From 448699d9b16be5c5dcbcff4a44a800574908cb47 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Prashanth Mundkur Date: Sat, 7 Sep 2013 16:21:05 -0700 Subject: [PATCH] restore media files --- media/text/bigfile.txt | 250097 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ media/text/chekhov.txt | 9732 ++ 2 files changed, 259829 insertions(+) create mode 100644 media/text/bigfile.txt create mode 100644 media/text/chekhov.txt diff --git a/media/text/bigfile.txt b/media/text/bigfile.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3e32d14 --- /dev/null +++ b/media/text/bigfile.txt @@ -0,0 +1,250097 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Best Russian Short Stories, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + +Title: Best Russian Short Stories + +Author: Various + +Release Date: September 11, 2004 [EBook #13437] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEST RUSSIAN SHORT STORIES *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, Keith M. Eckrich, and the Project Gutenberg +Online Distributed Proofreaders Team + + + + + + +[Illustration: ANTON P. CHEKHOV, RUSSIA'S GREATEST SHORT-STORY WRITER] + + +BEST RUSSIAN SHORT STORIES + + +Compiled and Edited by THOMAS SELTZER + + + + +CONTENTS + + + +INTRODUCTION + +THE QUEEN OF SPADES _A.S. Pushkin_ + +THE CLOAK _N.V. Gogol_ + +THE DISTRICT DOCTOR _I.S. Turgenev_ + +THE CHRISTMAS TREE AND THE WEDDING _F.M. Dostoyevsky_ + +GOD SEES THE TRUTH, BUT WAITS _L.N. Tolstoy_ + +HOW A MUZHIK FED TWO OFFICIALS _M.Y. Saltykov_ + +THE SHADES, A PHANTASY _V.G. Korolenko_ + +THE SIGNAL _V.N. Garshin_ + +THE DARLING _A.P. Chekhov_ + +THE BET _A.P. Chekhov_ + +VANKA _A.P. Chekhov_ + +HIDE AND SEEK _F.K. Sologub_ + +DETHRONED _I.N. Potapenko_ + +THE SERVANT _S.T. Semyonov_ + +ONE AUTUMN NIGHT _M. Gorky_ + +HER LOVER _M. Gorky_ + +LAZARUS _L.N. Andreyev_ + +THE REVOLUTIONIST _M.P. Artzybashev_ + +THE OUTRAGE _A.I. Kuprin_ + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +Conceive the joy of a lover of nature who, leaving the art galleries, +wanders out among the trees and wild flowers and birds that the +pictures of the galleries have sentimentalised. It is some such joy +that the man who truly loves the noblest in letters feels when tasting +for the first time the simple delights of Russian literature. French +and English and German authors, too, occasionally, offer works of +lofty, simple naturalness; but the very keynote to the whole of +Russian literature is simplicity, naturalness, veraciousness. + +Another essentially Russian trait is the quite unaffected conception +that the lowly are on a plane of equality with the so-called upper +classes. When the Englishman Dickens wrote with his profound pity and +understanding of the poor, there was yet a bit; of remoteness, +perhaps, even, a bit of caricature, in his treatment of them. He +showed their sufferings to the rest of the world with a "Behold how +the other half lives!" The Russian writes of the poor, as it were, +from within, as one of them, with no eye to theatrical effect upon the +well-to-do. There is no insistence upon peculiar virtues or vices. The +poor are portrayed just as they are, as human beings like the rest of +us. A democratic spirit is reflected, breathing a broad humanity, a +true universality, an unstudied generosity that proceed not from the +intellectual conviction that to understand all is to forgive all, but +from an instinctive feeling that no man has the right to set himself +up as a judge over another, that one can only observe and record. + +In 1834 two short stories appeared, _The Queen of Spades_, by Pushkin, +and _The Cloak_, by Gogol. The first was a finishing-off of the old, +outgoing style of romanticism, the other was the beginning of the new, +the characteristically Russian style. We read Pushkin's _Queen of +Spades_, the first story in the volume, and the likelihood is we shall +enjoy it greatly. "But why is it Russian?" we ask. The answer is, "It +is not Russian." It might have been printed in an American magazine +over the name of John Brown. But, now, take the very next story in the +volume, _The Cloak_. "Ah," you exclaim, "a genuine Russian story, +Surely. You cannot palm it off on me over the name of Jones or Smith." +Why? Because _The Cloak_ for the first time strikes that truly Russian +note of deep sympathy with the disinherited. It is not yet wholly free +from artificiality, and so is not yet typical of the purely realistic +fiction that reached its perfected development in Turgenev and +Tolstoy. + +Though Pushkin heads the list of those writers who made the literature +of their country world-famous, he was still a romanticist, in the +universal literary fashion of his day. However, he already gave strong +indication of the peculiarly Russian genius for naturalness or +realism, and was a true Russian in his simplicity of style. In no +sense an innovator, but taking the cue for his poetry from Byron and +for his prose from the romanticism current at that period, he was not +in advance of his age. He had a revolutionary streak in his nature, as +his _Ode to Liberty_ and other bits of verse and his intimacy with the +Decembrist rebels show. But his youthful fire soon died down, and he +found it possible to accommodate himself to the life of a Russian high +functionary and courtier under the severe despot Nicholas I, though, +to be sure, he always hated that life. For all his flirting with +revolutionarism, he never displayed great originality or depth of +thought. He was simply an extraordinarily gifted author, a perfect +versifier, a wondrous lyrist, and a delicious raconteur, endowed with +a grace, ease and power of expression that delighted even the exacting +artistic sense of Turgenev. To him aptly applies the dictum of +Socrates: "Not by wisdom do the poets write poetry, but by a sort of +genius and inspiration." I do not mean to convey that as a thinker +Pushkin is to be despised. Nevertheless, it is true that he would +occupy a lower position in literature did his reputation depend upon +his contributions to thought and not upon his value as an artist. + +"We are all descended from Gogol's _Cloak_," said a Russian writer. +And Dostoyevsky's novel, _Poor People_, which appeared ten years +later, is, in a way, merely an extension of Gogol's shorter tale. In +Dostoyevsky, indeed, the passion for the common people and the +all-embracing, all-penetrating pity for suffering humanity reach their +climax. He was a profound psychologist and delved deeply into the +human soul, especially in its abnormal and diseased aspects. Between +scenes of heart-rending, abject poverty, injustice, and wrong, and the +torments of mental pathology, he managed almost to exhaust the whole +range of human woe. And he analysed this misery with an intensity of +feeling and a painstaking regard for the most harrowing details that +are quite upsetting to normally constituted nerves. Yet all the +horrors must be forgiven him because of the motive inspiring them--an +overpowering love and the desire to induce an equal love in others. It +is not horror for horror's sake, not a literary _tour de force_, as in +Poe, but horror for a high purpose, for purification through +suffering, which was one of the articles of Dostoyevsky's faith. + +Following as a corollary from the love and pity for mankind that make +a leading element in Russian literature, is a passionate search for +the means of improving the lot of humanity, a fervent attachment to +social ideas and ideals. A Russian author is more ardently devoted to +a cause than an American short-story writer to a plot. This, in turn, +is but a reflection of the spirit of the Russian people, especially of +the intellectuals. The Russians take literature perhaps more seriously +than any other nation. To them books are not a mere diversion. They +demand that fiction and poetry be a true mirror of life and be of +service to life. A Russian author, to achieve the highest recognition, +must be a thinker also. He need not necessarily be a finished artist. +Everything is subordinated to two main requirements--humanitarian +ideals and fidelity to life. This is the secret of the marvellous +simplicity of Russian-literary art. Before the supreme function of +literature, the Russian writer stands awed and humbled. He knows he +cannot cover up poverty of thought, poverty of spirit and lack of +sincerity by rhetorical tricks or verbal cleverness. And if he +possesses the two essential requirements, the simplest language will +suffice. + +These qualities are exemplified at their best by Turgenev and Tolstoy. +They both had a strong social consciousness; they both grappled with +the problems of human welfare; they were both artists in the larger +sense, that is, in their truthful representation of life, Turgenev was +an artist also in the narrower sense--in a keen appreciation Of form. +Thoroughly Occidental in his tastes, he sought the regeneration of +Russia in radical progress along the lines of European democracy. +Tolstoy, on the other hand, sought the salvation of mankind in a +return to the primitive life and primitive Christian religion. + +The very first work of importance by Turgenev, _A Sportsman's +Sketches_, dealt with the question of serfdom, and it wielded +tremendous influence in bringing about its abolition. Almost every +succeeding book of his, from _Rudin_ through _Fathers and Sons_ to +_Virgin Soil_, presented vivid pictures of contemporary Russian +society, with its problems, the clash of ideas between the old and the +new generations, and the struggles, the aspirations and the thoughts +that engrossed the advanced youth of Russia; so that his collected +works form a remarkable literary record of the successive movements of +Russian society in a period of preparation, fraught with epochal +significance, which culminated in the overthrow of Czarism and the +inauguration of a new and true democracy, marking the beginning, +perhaps, of a radical transformation the world over. + +"The greatest writer of Russia." That is Turgenev's estimate of +Tolstoy. "A second Shakespeare!" was Flaubert's enthusiastic outburst. +The Frenchman's comparison is not wholly illuminating. The one point +of resemblance between the two authors is simply in the tremendous +magnitude of their genius. Each is a Colossus. Each creates a whole +world of characters, from kings and princes and ladies to servants and +maids and peasants. But how vastly divergent the angle of approach! +Anna Karenina may have all the subtle womanly charm of an Olivia or a +Portia, but how different her trials. Shakespeare could not have +treated Anna's problems at all. Anna could not have appeared in his +pages except as a sinning Gertrude, the mother of Hamlet. Shakespeare +had all the prejudices of his age. He accepted the world as it is with +its absurd moralities, its conventions and institutions and social +classes. A gravedigger is naturally inferior to a lord, and if he is +to be presented at all, he must come on as a clown. The people are +always a mob, the rabble. Tolstoy, is the revolutionist, the +iconoclast. He has the completest independence of mind. He utterly +refuses to accept established opinions just because they are +established. He probes into the right and wrong of things. His is a +broad, generous universal democracy, his is a comprehensive sympathy, +his an absolute incapacity to evaluate human beings according to +station, rank or profession, or any standard but that of spiritual +worth. In all this he was a complete contrast to Shakespeare. Each of +the two men was like a creature of a higher world, possessed of +supernatural endowments. Their omniscience of all things human, their +insight into the hiddenmost springs of men's actions appear +miraculous. But Shakespeare makes the impression of detachment from +his works. The works do not reveal the man; while in Tolstoy the +greatness of the man blends with the greatness of the genius. Tolstoy +was no mere oracle uttering profundities he wot not of. As the social, +religious and moral tracts that he wrote in the latter period of his +life are instinct with a literary beauty of which he never could +divest himself, and which gave an artistic value even to his sermons, +so his earlier novels show a profound concern for the welfare of +society, a broad, humanitarian spirit, a bigness of soul that included +prince and pauper alike. + +Is this extravagant praise? Then let me echo William Dean Howells: "I +know very well that I do not speak of Tolstoy's books in measured +terms; I cannot." + +The Russian writers so far considered have made valuable contributions +to the short story; but, with the exception of Pushkin, whose +reputation rests chiefly upon his poetry, their best work, generally, +was in the field of the long novel. It was the novel that gave Russian +literature its pre-eminence. It could not have been otherwise, since +Russia is young as a literary nation, and did not come of age until +the period at which the novel was almost the only form of literature +that counted. If, therefore, Russia was to gain distinction in the +world of letters, it could be only through the novel. Of the measure +of her success there is perhaps no better testimony than the words of +Matthew Arnold, a critic certainly not given to overstatement. "The +Russian novel," he wrote in 1887, "has now the vogue, and deserves to +have it... The Russian novelist is master of a spell to which the +secret of human nature--both what is external and internal, gesture +and manner no less than thought and feeling--willingly make themselves +known... In that form of imaginative literature, which in our day is +the most popular and the most possible, the Russians at the present +moment seem to me to hold the field." + +With the strict censorship imposed on Russian writers, many of them +who might perhaps have contented themselves with expressing their +opinions in essays, were driven to conceal their meaning under the +guise of satire or allegory; which gave rise to a peculiar genre of +literature, a sort of editorial or essay done into fiction, in which +the satirist Saltykov, a contemporary of Turgenev and Dostoyevsky, who +wrote under the pseudonym of Shchedrin, achieved the greatest success +and popularity. + +It was not however, until the concluding quarter of the last century +that writers like Korolenko and Garshin arose, who devoted themselves +chiefly to the cultivation of the short story. With Anton Chekhov the +short story assumed a position of importance alongside the larger +works of the great Russian masters. Gorky and Andreyev made the short +story do the same service for the active revolutionary period in the +last decade of the nineteenth century down to its temporary defeat in +1906 that Turgenev rendered in his series of larger novels for the +period of preparation. But very different was the voice of Gorky, the +man sprung from the people, the embodiment of all the accumulated +wrath and indignation of centuries of social wrong and oppression, +from the gentlemanly tones of the cultured artist Turgenev. Like a +mighty hammer his blows fell upon the decaying fabric of the old +society. His was no longer a feeble, despairing protest. With the +strength and confidence of victory he made onslaught upon onslaught on +the old institutions until they shook and almost tumbled. And when +reaction celebrated its short-lived triumph and gloom settled again +upon his country and most of his co-fighters withdrew from the battle +in despair, some returning to the old-time Russian mood of +hopelessness, passivity and apathy, and some even backsliding into +wild orgies of literary debauchery, Gorky never wavered, never lost +his faith and hope, never for a moment was untrue to his principles. +Now, with the revolution victorious, he has come into his right, one +of the most respected, beloved and picturesque figures in the Russian +democracy. + +Kuprin, the most facile and talented short-story writer next to +Chekhov, has, on the whole, kept well to the best literary traditions +of Russia, though he has frequently wandered off to extravagant sex +themes, for which he seems to display as great a fondness as +Artzybashev. Semyonov is a unique character in Russian literature, a +peasant who had scarcely mastered the most elementary mechanics of +writing when he penned his first story. But that story pleased +Tolstoy, who befriended and encouraged him. His tales deal altogether +with peasant life in country and city, and have a lifelikeness, an +artlessness, a simplicity striking even in a Russian author. + +There is a small group of writers detached from the main current of +Russian literature who worship at the shrine of beauty and mysticism. +Of these Sologub has attained the highest reputation. + +Rich as Russia has become in the short story, Anton Chekhov still +stands out as the supreme master, one of the greatest short-story +writers of the world. He was born in Taganarok, in the Ukraine, in +1860, the son of a peasant serf who succeeded in buying his freedom. +Anton Chekhov studied medicine, but devoted himself largely to +writing, in which, he acknowledged, his scientific training was of +great service. Though he lived only forty-four years, dying of +tuberculosis in 1904, his collected works consist of sixteen +fair-sized volumes of short stories, and several dramas besides. A few +volumes of his works have already appeared in English translation. + +Critics, among them Tolstoy, have often compared Chekhov to +Maupassant. I find it hard to discover the resemblance. Maupassant +holds a supreme position as a short-story writer; so does Chekhov. But +there, it seems to me, the likeness ends. + +The chill wind that blows from the atmosphere created by the +Frenchman's objective artistry is by the Russian commingled with the +warm breath of a great human sympathy. Maupassant never tells where +his sympathies lie, and you don't know; you only guess. Chekhov does +not tell you where his sympathies lie, either, but you know all the +same; you don't have to guess. And yet Chekhov is as objective as +Maupassant. In the chronicling of facts, conditions, and situations, +in the reproduction of characters, he is scrupulously true, hard, and +inexorable. But without obtruding his personality, he somehow manages +to let you know that he is always present, always at hand. If you +laugh, he is there to laugh with you; if you cry, he is there to shed +a tear with you; if you are horrified, he is horrified, too. It is a +subtle art by which he contrives to make one feel the nearness of +himself for all his objectiveness, so subtle that it defies analysis. +And yet it constitutes one of the great charms of his tales. + +Chekhov's works show an astounding resourcefulness and versatility. +There is no monotony, no repetition. Neither in incident nor in +character are any two stories alike. The range of Chekhov's knowledge +of men and things seems to be unlimited, and he is extravagant in the +use of it. Some great idea which many a writer would consider +sufficient to expand into a whole novel he disposes of in a story of a +few pages. Take, for example, _Vanka_, apparently but a mere episode +in the childhood of a nine-year-old boy; while it is really the +tragedy of a whole life in its tempting glimpses into a past +environment and ominous forebodings of the future--all contracted into +the space of four or five pages. Chekhov is lavish with his +inventiveness. Apparently, it cost him no effort to invent. + +I have used the word inventiveness for lack of a better name. It +expresses but lamely the peculiar faculty that distinguishes Chekhov. +Chekhov does not really invent. He reveals. He reveals things that no +author before him has revealed. It is as though he possessed a special +organ which enabled him to see, hear and feel things of which we other +mortals did not even dream the existence. Yet when he lays them bare +we know that they are not fictitious, not invented, but as real as the +ordinary familiar facts of life. This faculty of his playing on all +conceivable objects, all conceivable emotions, no matter how +microscopic, endows them with life and a soul. By virtue of this power +_The Steppe_, an uneventful record of peasants travelling day after +day through flat, monotonous fields, becomes instinct with dramatic +interest, and its 125 pages seem all too short. And by virtue of the +same attribute we follow with breathless suspense the minute +description of the declining days of a great scientist, who feels his +physical and mental faculties gradually ebbing away. _A Tiresome +Story_, Chekhov calls it; and so it would be without the vitality +conjured into it by the magic touch of this strange genius. + +Divination is perhaps a better term than invention. Chekhov divines +the most secret impulses of the soul, scents out what is buried in the +subconscious, and brings it up to the surface. Most writers are +specialists. They know certain strata of society, and when they +venture beyond, their step becomes uncertain. Chekhov's material is +only delimited by humanity. He is equally at home everywhere. The +peasant, the labourer, the merchant, the priest, the professional man, +the scholar, the military officer, and the government functionary, +Gentile or Jew, man, woman, or child--Chekhov is intimate with all of +them. His characters are sharply defined individuals, not types. In +almost all his stories, however short, the men and women and children +who play a part in them come out as clear, distinct personalities. +Ariadne is as vivid a character as Lilly, the heroine of Sudermann's +_Song of Songs_; yet _Ariadne_ is but a single story in a volume of +stories. Who that has read _The Darling_ can ever forget her--the +woman who had no separate existence of her own, but thought the +thoughts, felt the feelings, and spoke the words of the men she loved? +And when there was no man to love any more, she was utterly crushed +until she found a child to take care of and to love; and then she sank +her personality in the boy as she had sunk it before in her husbands +and lover, became a mere reflection of him, and was happy again. + +In the compilation of this volume I have been guided by the desire to +give the largest possible representation to the prominent authors of +the Russian short story, and to present specimens characteristic of +each. At the same time the element of interest has been kept in mind; +and in a few instances, as in the case of Korolenko, the selection of +the story was made with a view to its intrinsic merit and striking +qualities rather than as typifying the writer's art. It was, of +course, impossible in the space of one book to exhaust all that is +best. But to my knowledge, the present volume is the most +comprehensive anthology of the Russian short story in the English +language, and gives a fair notion of the achievement in that field. +All who enjoy good reading, I have no reason to doubt, will get +pleasure from it, and if, in addition, it will prove of assistance to +American students of Russian literature, I shall feel that the task +has been doubly worth the while. + +Korolenko's _Shades_ and Andreyev's _Lazarus_ first appeared in +_Current Opinion_, and Artzybashev's _The Revolutionist_ in the +_Metropolitan Magazine_. I take pleasure in thanking Mr. Edward J. +Wheeler, editor of _Current Opinion_, and Mr. Carl Hovey, editor of +the _Metropolitan Magazine_, for permission to reprint them. + +[Signature: Thomas Seltzer] + + + +"Everything is subordinated to two main requirements--humanitarian +ideals and fidelity to life. This is the secret of the marvellous +simplicity of Russian literary art."--THOMAS SELTZER. + + + + +BEST RUSSIAN SHORT STORIES + + + + +THE QUEEN OF SPADES + + +BY ALEXSANDR S. PUSHKIN + + + +I + + +There was a card party at the rooms of Narumov of the Horse Guards. +The long winter night passed away imperceptibly, and it was five +o'clock in the morning before the company sat down to supper. Those +who had won, ate with a good appetite; the others sat staring absently +at their empty plates. When the champagne appeared, however, the +conversation became more animated, and all took a part in it. + +"And how did you fare, Surin?" asked the host. + +"Oh, I lost, as usual. I must confess that I am unlucky: I play +mirandole, I always keep cool, I never allow anything to put me out, +and yet I always lose!" + +"And you did not once allow yourself to be tempted to back the red?... +Your firmness astonishes me." + +"But what do you think of Hermann?" said one of the guests, pointing +to a young Engineer: "he has never had a card in his hand in his life, +he has never in, his life laid a wager, and yet he sits here till five +o'clock in the morning watching our play." + +"Play interests me very much," said Hermann: "but I am not in the +position to sacrifice the necessary in the hope of winning the +superfluous." + +"Hermann is a German: he is economical--that is all!" observed Tomsky. +"But if there is one person that I cannot understand, it is my +grandmother, the Countess Anna Fedotovna." + +"How so?" inquired the guests. + +"I cannot understand," continued Tomsky, "how it is that my +grandmother does not punt." + +"What is there remarkable about an old lady of eighty not punting?" +said Narumov. + +"Then you do not know the reason why?" + +"No, really; haven't the faintest idea." + +"Oh! then listen. About sixty years ago, my grandmother went to Paris, +where she created quite a sensation. People used to run after her to +catch a glimpse of the 'Muscovite Venus.' Richelieu made love to her, +and my grandmother maintains that he almost blew out his brains in +consequence of her cruelty. At that time ladies used to play at faro. +On one occasion at the Court, she lost a very considerable sum to the +Duke of Orleans. On returning home, my grandmother removed the patches +from her face, took off her hoops, informed my grandfather of her loss +at the gaming-table, and ordered him to pay the money. My deceased +grandfather, as far as I remember, was a sort of house-steward to my +grandmother. He dreaded her like fire; but, on hearing of such a heavy +loss, he almost went out of his mind; he calculated the various sums +she had lost, and pointed out to her that in six months she had spent +half a million francs, that neither their Moscow nor Saratov estates +were in Paris, and finally refused point blank to pay the debt. My +grandmother gave him a box on the ear and slept by herself as a sign +of her displeasure. The next day she sent for her husband, hoping that +this domestic punishment had produced an effect upon him, but she +found him inflexible. For the first time in her life, she entered into +reasonings and explanations with him, thinking to be able to convince +him by pointing out to him that there are debts and debts, and that +there is a great difference between a Prince and a coachmaker. But it +was all in vain, my grandfather still remained obdurate. But the +matter did not rest there. My grandmother did not know what to do. She +had shortly before become acquainted with a very remarkable man. You +have heard of Count St. Germain, about whom so many marvellous stories +are told. You know that he represented himself as the Wandering Jew, +as the discoverer of the elixir of life, of the philosopher's stone, +and so forth. Some laughed at him as a charlatan; but Casanova, in his +memoirs, says that he was a spy. But be that as it may, St. Germain, +in spite of the mystery surrounding him, was a very fascinating +person, and was much sought after in the best circles of society. Even +to this day my grandmother retains an affectionate recollection of +him, and becomes quite angry if any one speaks disrespectfully of him. +My grandmother knew that St. Germain had large sums of money at his +disposal. She resolved to have recourse to him, and she wrote a letter +to him asking him to come to her without delay. The queer old man +immediately waited upon her and found her overwhelmed with grief. She +described to him in the blackest colours the barbarity of her husband, +and ended by declaring that her whole hope depended upon his +friendship and amiability. + +"St. Germain reflected. + +"'I could advance you the sum you want,' said he; 'but I know that you +would not rest easy until you had paid me back, and I should not like +to bring fresh troubles upon you. But there is another way of getting +out of your difficulty: you can win back your money.' + +"'But, my dear Count,' replied my grandmother, 'I tell you that I +haven't any money left.' + +"'Money is not necessary,' replied St. Germain: 'be pleased to listen +to me.' + +"Then he revealed to her a secret, for which each of us would give a +good deal..." + +The young officers listened with increased attention. Tomsky lit his +pipe, puffed away for a moment and then continued: + +"That same evening my grandmother went to Versailles to the _jeu de la +reine_. The Duke of Orleans kept the bank; my grandmother excused +herself in an off-hand manner for not having yet paid her debt, by +inventing some little story, and then began to play against him. She +chose three cards and played them one after the other: all three won +_sonika_, [Said of a card when it wins or loses in the quickest +possible time.] and my grandmother recovered every farthing that she +had lost." + +"Mere chance!" said one of the guests. + +"A tale!" observed Hermann. + +"Perhaps they were marked cards!" said a third. + +"I do not think so," replied Tomsky gravely. + +"What!" said Narumov, "you have a grandmother who knows how to hit +upon three lucky cards in succession, and you have never yet succeeded +in getting the secret of it out of her?" + +"That's the deuce of it!" replied Tomsky: "she had four sons, one of +whom was my father; all four were determined gamblers, and yet not to +one of them did she ever reveal her secret, although it would not have +been a bad thing either for them or for me. But this is what I heard +from my uncle, Count Ivan Ilyich, and he assured me, on his honour, +that it was true. The late Chaplitzky--the same who died in poverty +after having squandered millions--once lost, in his youth, about three +hundred thousand roubles--to Zorich, if I remember rightly. He was in +despair. My grandmother, who was always very severe upon the +extravagance of young men, took pity, however, upon Chaplitzky. She +gave him three cards, telling him to play them one after the other, at +the same time exacting from him a solemn promise that he would never +play at cards again as long as he lived. Chaplitzky then went to his +victorious opponent, and they began a fresh game. On the first card he +staked fifty thousand rubles and won _sonika_; he doubled the stake +and won again, till at last, by pursuing the same tactics, he won back +more than he had lost ... + +"But it is time to go to bed: it is a quarter to six already." + +And indeed it was already beginning to dawn: the young men emptied +their glasses and then took leave of each other. + + + +II + + +The old Countess A---- was seated in her dressing-room in front of her +looking--glass. Three waiting maids stood around her. One held a small +pot of rouge, another a box of hair-pins, and the third a tall can +with bright red ribbons. The Countess had no longer the slightest +pretensions to beauty, but she still preserved the habits of her +youth, dressed in strict accordance with the fashion of seventy years +before, and made as long and as careful a toilette as she would have +done sixty years previously. Near the window, at an embroidery frame, +sat a young lady, her ward. + +"Good morning, grandmamma," said a young officer, entering the room. +"_Bonjour, Mademoiselle Lise_. Grandmamma, I want to ask you +something." + +"What is it, Paul?" + +"I want you to let me introduce one of my friends to you, and to allow +me to bring him to the ball on Friday." + +"Bring him direct to the ball and introduce him to me there. Were you +at B----'s yesterday?" + +"Yes; everything went off very pleasantly, and dancing was kept up +until five o'clock. How charming Yeletzkaya was!" + +"But, my dear, what is there charming about her? Isn't she like her +grandmother, the Princess Daria Petrovna? By the way, she must be very +old, the Princess Daria Petrovna." + +"How do you mean, old?" cried Tomsky thoughtlessly; "she died seven +years ago." + +The young lady raised her head and made a sign to the young officer. +He then remembered that the old Countess was never to be informed of +the death of any of her contemporaries, and he bit his lips. But the +old Countess heard the news with the greatest indifference. + +"Dead!" said she; "and I did not know it. We were appointed maids of +honour at the same time, and when we were presented to the Empress..." + +And the Countess for the hundredth time related to her grandson one of +her anecdotes. + +"Come, Paul," said she, when she had finished her story, "help me to +get up. Lizanka, where is my snuff-box?" + +And the Countess with her three maids went behind a screen to finish +her toilette. Tomsky was left alone with the young lady. + +"Who is the gentleman you wish to introduce to the Countess?" asked +Lizaveta Ivanovna in a whisper. + +"Narumov. Do you know him?" + +"No. Is he a soldier or a civilian?" + +"A soldier." + +"Is he in the Engineers?" + +"No, in the Cavalry. What made you think that he was in the +Engineers?" + +The young lady smiled, but made no reply. + +"Paul," cried the Countess from behind the screen, "send me some new +novel, only pray don't let it be one of the present day style." + +"What do you mean, grandmother?" + +"That is, a novel, in which the hero strangles neither his father nor +his mother, and in which there are no drowned bodies. I have a great +horror of drowned persons." + +"There are no such novels nowadays. Would you like a Russian one?" + +"Are there any Russian novels? Send me one, my dear, pray send me +one!" + +"Good-bye, grandmother: I am in a hurry... Good-bye, Lizaveta +Ivanovna. What made you think that Narumov was in the Engineers?" + +And Tomsky left the boudoir. + +Lizaveta Ivanovna was left alone: she laid aside her work and began to +look out of the window. A few moments afterwards, at a corner house on +the other side of the street, a young officer appeared. A deep blush +covered her cheeks; she took up her work again and bent her head down +over the frame. At the same moment the Countess returned completely +dressed. + +"Order the carriage, Lizaveta," said she; "we will go out for a +drive." + +Lizaveta arose from the frame and began to arrange her work. + +"What is the matter with you, my child, are you deaf?" cried the +Countess. "Order the carriage to be got ready at once." + +"I will do so this moment," replied the young lady, hastening into the +ante-room. + +A servant entered and gave the Countess some books from Prince Paul +Aleksandrovich. + +"Tell him that I am much obliged to him," said the Countess. +"Lizaveta! Lizaveta! Where are you running to?" + +"I am going to dress." + +"There is plenty of time, my dear. Sit down here. Open the first +volume and read to me aloud." + +Her companion took the book and read a few lines. + +"Louder," said the Countess. "What is the matter with you, my child? +Have you lost your voice? Wait--give me that footstool--a little +nearer--that will do." + +Lizaveta read two more pages. The Countess yawned. + +"Put the book down," said she: "what a lot of nonsense! Send it back +to Prince Paul with my thanks... But where is the carriage?" + +"The carriage is ready," said Lizaveta, looking out into the street. + +"How is it that you are not dressed?" said the Countess: "I must +always wait for you. It is intolerable, my dear!" + +Liza hastened to her room. She had not been there two minutes, before +the Countess began to ring with all her might. The three waiting-maids +came running in at one door and the valet at another. + +"How is it that you cannot hear me when I ring for you?" said the +Countess. "Tell Lizaveta Ivanovna that I am waiting for her." + +Lizaveta returned with her hat and cloak on. + +"At last you are here!" said the Countess. "But why such an elaborate +toilette? Whom do you intend to captivate? What sort of weather is it? +It seems rather windy." + +"No, your Ladyship, it is very calm," replied the valet. + +"You never think of what you are talking about. Open the window. So it +is: windy and bitterly cold. Unharness the horses. Lizaveta, we won't +go out--there was no need for you to deck yourself like that." + +"What a life is mine!" thought Lizaveta Ivanovna. + +And, in truth, Lizaveta Ivanovna was a very unfortunate creature. "The +bread of the stranger is bitter," says Dante, "and his staircase hard +to climb." But who can know what the bitterness of dependence is so +well as the poor companion of an old lady of quality? The Countess +A---- had by no means a bad heart, bat she was capricious, like a +woman who had been spoilt by the world, as well as being avaricious +and egotistical, like all old people who have seen their best days, +and whose thoughts are with the past and not the present. She +participated in all the vanities of the great world, went to balls, +where she sat in a corner, painted and dressed in old-fashioned style, +like a deformed but indispensable ornament of the ball-room; all the +guests on entering approached her and made a profound bow, as if in +accordance with a set ceremony, but after that nobody took any further +notice of her. She received the whole town at her house, and observed +the strictest etiquette, although she could no longer recognise the +faces of people. Her numerous domestics, growing fat and old in her +ante-chamber and servants' hall, did just as they liked, and vied with +each other in robbing the aged Countess in the most bare-faced manner. +Lizaveta Ivanovna was the martyr of the household. She made tea, and +was reproached with using too much sugar; she read novels aloud to the +Countess, and the faults of the author were visited upon her head; she +accompanied the Countess in her walks, and was held answerable for the +weather or the state of the pavement. A salary was attached to the +post, but she very rarely received it, although she was expected to +dress like everybody else, that is to say, like very few indeed. In +society she played the most pitiable role. Everybody knew her, and +nobody paid her any attention. At balls she danced only when a partner +was wanted, and ladies would only take hold of her arm when it was +necessary to lead her out of the room to attend to their dresses. She +was very self-conscious, and felt her position keenly, and she looked +about her with impatience for a deliverer to come to her rescue; but +the young men, calculating in their giddiness, honoured her with but +very little attention, although Lizaveta Ivanovna was a hundred times +prettier than the bare-faced and cold-hearted marriageable girls +around whom they hovered. Many a time did she quietly slink away from +the glittering but wearisome drawing-room, to go and cry in her own +poor little room, in which stood a screen, a chest of drawers, a +looking-glass and a painted bedstead, and where a tallow candle burnt +feebly in a copper candle-stick. + +One morning--this was about two days after the evening party described +at the beginning of this story, and a week previous to the scene at +which we have just assisted--Lizaveta Ivanovna was seated near the +window at her embroidery frame, when, happening to look out into the +street, she caught sight of a young Engineer officer, standing +motionless with his eyes fixed upon her window. She lowered her head +and went on again with her work. About five minutes afterwards she +looked out again--the young officer was still standing in the same +place. Not being in the habit of coquetting with passing officers, she +did not continue to gaze out into the street, but went on sewing for a +couple of hours, without raising her head. Dinner was announced. She +rose up and began to put her embroidery away, but glancing casually +out of the window, she perceived the officer again. This seemed to her +very strange. After dinner she went to the window with a certain +feeling of uneasiness, but the officer was no longer there--and she +thought no more about him. + +A couple of days afterwards, just as she was stepping into the +carriage with the Countess, she saw him again. He was standing close +behind the door, with his face half-concealed by his fur collar, but +his dark eyes sparkled beneath his cap. Lizaveta felt alarmed, though +she knew not why, and she trembled as she seated herself in the +carriage. + +On returning home, she hastened to the window--the officer was +standing in his accustomed place, with his eyes fixed upon her. She +drew back, a prey to curiosity and agitated by a feeling which was +quite new to her. + +From that time forward not a day passed without the young officer +making his appearance under the window at the customary hour, and +between him and her there was established a sort of mute acquaintance. +Sitting in her place at work, she used to feel his approach; and +raising her head, she would look at him longer and longer each day. +The young man seemed to be very grateful to her: she saw with the +sharp eye of youth, how a sudden flush covered his pale cheeks each +time that their glances met. After about a week she commenced to smile +at him... + +When Tomsky asked permission of his grandmother the Countess to +present one of his friends to her, the young girl's heart beat +violently. But hearing that Narumov was not an Engineer, she regretted +that by her thoughtless question, she had betrayed her secret to the +volatile Tomsky. + +Hermann was the son of a German who had become a naturalised Russian, +and from whom he had inherited a small capital. Being firmly convinced +of the necessity of preserving his independence, Hermann did not touch +his private income, but lived on his pay, without allowing himself the +slightest luxury. Moreover, he was reserved and ambitious, and his +companions rarely had an opportunity of making merry at the expense of +his extreme parsimony. He had strong passions and an ardent +imagination, but his firmness of disposition preserved him from the +ordinary errors of young men. Thus, though a gamester at heart, he +never touched a card, for he considered his position did not allow +him--as he said--"to risk the necessary in the hope of winning the +superfluous," yet he would sit for nights together at the card table +and follow with feverish anxiety the different turns of the game. + +The story of the three cards had produced a powerful impression upon +his imagination, and all night long he could think of nothing else. +"If," he thought to himself the following evening, as he walked along +the streets of St. Petersburg, "if the old Countess would but reveal +her secret to me! if she would only tell me the names of the three +winning cards. Why should I not try my fortune? I must get introduced +to her and win her favour--become her lover... But all that will take +time, and she is eighty-seven years old: she might be dead in a week, +in a couple of days even!... But the story itself: can it really be +true?... No! Economy, temperance and industry: those are my three +winning cards; by means of them I shall be able to double my +capital--increase it sevenfold, and procure for myself ease and +independence." + +Musing in this manner, he walked on until he found himself in one of +the principal streets of St. Petersburg, in front of a house of +antiquated architecture. The street was blocked with equipages; +carriages one after the other drew up in front of the brilliantly +illuminated doorway. At one moment there stepped out on to the +pavement the well-shaped little foot of some young beauty, at another +the heavy boot of a cavalry officer, and then the silk stockings and +shoes of a member of the diplomatic world. Furs and cloaks passed in +rapid succession before the gigantic porter at the entrance. + +Hermann stopped. "Who's house is this?" he asked of the watchman at +the corner. + +"The Countess A----'s," replied the watchman. + +Hermann started. The strange story of the three cards again presented +itself to his imagination. He began walking up and down before the +house, thinking of its owner and her strange secret. Returning late to +his modest lodging, he could not go to sleep for a long time, and when +at last he did doze off, he could dream of nothing but cards, green +tables, piles of banknotes and heaps of ducats. He played one card +after the other, winning uninterruptedly, and then he gathered up the +gold and filled his pockets with the notes. When he woke up late the +next morning, be sighed over the loss of his imaginary wealth, and +then sallying out into the town, he found himself once more in front +of the Countess's residence. Some unknown power seemed to have +attracted him thither. He stopped and looked up at the windows. At one +of these he saw a head with luxuriant black hair, which was bent down +probably over some book or an embroidery frame. The head was raised. +Hermann saw a fresh complexion and a pair of dark eyes. That moment +decided his fate. + + + +III + + +Lizaveta Ivanovna had scarcely taken off her hat and cloak, when the +Countess sent for her and again ordered her to get the carriage ready. +The vehicle drew up before the door, and they prepared to take their +seats. Just at the moment when two footmen were assisting the old lady +to enter the carriage, Lizaveta saw her Engineer standing close beside +the wheel; he grasped her hand; alarm caused her to lose her presence +of mind, and the young man disappeared--but not before he had left a +letter between her fingers. She concealed it in her glove, and during +the whole of the drive she neither saw nor heard anything. It was the +custom of the Countess, when out for an airing in her carriage, to be +constantly asking such questions as: "Who was that person that met us +just now? What is the name of this bridge? What is written on that +signboard?" On this occasion, however, Lizaveta returned such vague +and absurd answers, that the Countess became angry with her. + +"What is the matter with you, my dear?" she exclaimed. "Have you taken +leave of your senses, or what is it? Do you not hear me or understand +what I say?... Heaven be thanked, I am still in my right mind and +speak plainly enough!" + +Lizaveta Ivanovna did not hear her. On returning home she ran to her +room, and drew the letter out of her glove: it was not sealed. +Lizaveta read it. The letter contained a declaration of love; it was +tender, respectful, and copied word for word from a German novel. But +Lizaveta did not know anything of the German language, and she was +quite delighted. + +For all that, the letter caused her to feel exceedingly uneasy. For +the first time in her life she was entering into secret and +confidential relations with a young man. His boldness alarmed her. She +reproached herself for her imprudent behaviour, and knew not what to +do. Should she cease to sit at the window and, by assuming an +appearance of indifference towards him, put a check upon the young +officer's desire for further acquaintance with her? Should she send +his letter back to him, or should she answer him in a cold and decided +manner? There was nobody to whom she could turn in her perplexity, for +she had neither female friend nor adviser... At length she resolved to +reply to him. + +She sat down at her little writing-table, took pen and paper, and +began to think. Several times she began her letter, and then tore it +up: the way she had expressed herself seemed to her either too +inviting or too cold and decisive. At last she succeeded in writing a +few lines with which she felt satisfied. + +"I am convinced," she wrote, "that your intentions are honourable, and +that you do not wish to offend me by any imprudent behaviour, but our +acquaintance must not begin in such a manner. I return you your +letter, and I hope that I shall never have any cause to complain of +this undeserved slight." + +The next day, as soon as Hermann made his appearance, Lizaveta rose +from her embroidery, went into the drawing-room, opened the ventilator +and threw the letter into the street, trusting that the young officer +would have the perception to pick it up. + +Hermann hastened forward, picked it up and then repaired to a +confectioner's shop. Breaking the seal of the envelope, he found +inside it his own letter and Lizaveta's reply. He had expected this, +and he returned home, his mind deeply occupied with his intrigue. + +Three days afterwards, a bright-eyed young girl from a milliner's +establishment brought Lizaveta a letter. Lizaveta opened it with great +uneasiness, fearing that it was a demand for money, when suddenly she +recognised Hermann's hand-writing. + +"You have made a mistake, my dear," said she: "this letter is not for +me." + +"Oh, yes, it is for you," replied the girl, smiling very knowingly. +"Have the goodness to read it." + +Lizaveta glanced at the letter. Hermann requested an interview. + +"It cannot be," she cried, alarmed at the audacious request, and the +manner in which it was made. "This letter is certainly not for me." + +And she tore it into fragments. + +"If the letter was not for you, why have you torn it up?" said the +girl. "I should have given it back to the person who sent it." + +"Be good enough, my dear," said Lizaveta, disconcerted by this remark, +"not to bring me any more letters for the future, and tell the person +who sent you that he ought to be ashamed..." + +But Hermann was not the man to be thus put off. Every day Lizaveta +received from him a letter, sent now in this way, now in that. They +were no longer translated from the German. Hermann wrote them under +the inspiration of passion, and spoke in his own language, and they +bore full testimony to the inflexibility of his desire and the +disordered condition of his uncontrollable imagination. Lizaveta no +longer thought of sending them back to him: she became intoxicated +with them and began to reply to them, and little by little her answers +became longer and more affectionate. At last she threw out of the +window to him the following letter: + +"This evening there is going to be a ball at the Embassy. The Countess +will be there. We shall remain until two o'clock. You have now an +opportunity of seeing me alone. As soon as the Countess is gone, the +servants will very probably go out, and there will be nobody left but +the Swiss, but he usually goes to sleep in his lodge. Come about +half-past eleven. Walk straight upstairs. If you meet anybody in the +ante-room, ask if the Countess is at home. You will be told 'No,' in +which case there will be nothing left for you to do but to go away +again. But it is most probable that you will meet nobody. The +maidservants will all be together in one room. On leaving the +ante-room, turn to the left, and walk straight on until you reach the +Countess's bedroom. In the bedroom, behind a screen, you will find two +doors: the one on the right leads to a cabinet, which the Countess +never enters; the one on the left leads to a corridor, at the end of +which is a little winding staircase; this leads to my room." + +Hermann trembled like a tiger, as he waited for the appointed time to +arrive. At ten o'clock in the evening he was already in front of the +Countess's house. The weather was terrible; the wind blew with great +violence; the sleety snow fell in large flakes; the lamps emitted a +feeble light, the streets were deserted; from time to time a sledge, +drawn by a sorry-looking hack, passed by, on the look-out for a +belated passenger. Hermann was enveloped in a thick overcoat, and felt +neither wind nor snow. + +At last the Countess's carriage drew up. Hermann saw two footmen carry +out in their arms the bent form of the old lady, wrapped in sable fur, +and immediately behind her, clad in a warm mantle, and with her head +ornamented with a wreath of fresh flowers, followed Lizaveta. The door +was closed. The carriage rolled away heavily through the yielding +snow. The porter shut the street-door; the windows became dark. + +Hermann began walking up and down near the deserted house; at length +he stopped under a lamp, and glanced at his watch: it was twenty +minutes past eleven. He remained standing under the lamp, his eyes +fixed upon the watch, impatiently waiting for the remaining minutes to +pass. At half-past eleven precisely, Hermann ascended the steps of the +house, and made his way into the brightly-illuminated vestibule. The +porter was not there. Hermann hastily ascended the staircase, opened +the door of the ante-room and saw a footman sitting asleep in an +antique chair by the side of a lamp. With a light firm step Hermann +passed by him. The drawing-room and dining-room were in darkness, but +a feeble reflection penetrated thither from the lamp in the ante-room. + +Hermann reached the Countess's bedroom. Before a shrine, which was +full of old images, a golden lamp was burning. Faded stuffed chairs +and divans with soft cushions stood in melancholy symmetry around the +room, the walls of which were hung with China silk. On one side of the +room hung two portraits painted in Paris by Madame Lebrun. One of +these represented a stout, red-faced man of about forty years of age +in a bright-green uniform and with a star upon his breast; the +other--a beautiful young woman, with an aquiline nose, forehead curls +and a rose in her powdered hair. In the corners stood porcelain +shepherds and shepherdesses, dining-room clocks from the workshop of +the celebrated Lefroy, bandboxes, roulettes, fans and the various +playthings for the amusement of ladies that were in vogue at the end +of the last century, when Montgolfier's balloons and Mesmer's +magnetism were the rage. Hermann stepped behind the screen. At the +back of it stood a little iron bedstead; on the right was the door +which led to the cabinet; on the left--the other which led to the +corridor. He opened the latter, and saw the little winding staircase +which led to the room of the poor companion... But he retraced his +steps and entered the dark cabinet. + +The time passed slowly. All was still. The clock in the drawing-room +struck twelve; the strokes echoed through the room one after the +other, and everything was quiet again. Hermann stood leaning against +the cold stove. He was calm; his heart beat regularly, like that of a +man resolved upon a dangerous but inevitable undertaking. One o'clock +in the morning struck; then two; and he heard the distant noise of +carriage-wheels. An involuntary agitation took possession of him. The +carriage drew near and stopped. He heard the sound of the +carriage-steps being let down. All was bustle within the house. The +servants were running hither and thither, there was a confusion of +voices, and the rooms were lit up. Three antiquated chamber-maids +entered the bedroom, and they were shortly afterwards followed by the +Countess who, more dead than alive, sank into a Voltaire armchair. +Hermann peeped through a chink. Lizaveta Ivanovna passed close by him, +and he heard her hurried steps as she hastened up the little spiral +staircase. For a moment his heart was assailed by something like a +pricking of conscience, but the emotion was only transitory, and his +heart became petrified as before. + +The Countess began to undress before her looking-glass. Her +rose-bedecked cap was taken off, and then her powdered wig was removed +from off her white and closely-cut hair. Hairpins fell in showers +around her. Her yellow satin dress, brocaded with silver, fell down at +her swollen feet. + +Hermann was a witness of the repugnant mysteries of her toilette; at +last the Countess was in her night-cap and dressing-gown, and in this +costume, more suitable to her age, she appeared less hideous and +deformed. + +Like all old people in general, the Countess suffered from +sleeplessness. Having undressed, she seated herself at the window in a +Voltaire armchair and dismissed her maids. The candles were taken +away, and once more the room was left with only one lamp burning in +it. The Countess sat there looking quite yellow, mumbling with her +flaccid lips and swaying to and fro. Her dull eyes expressed complete +vacancy of mind, and, looking at her, one would have thought that the +rocking of her body was not a voluntary action of her own, but was +produced by the action of some concealed galvanic mechanism. + +Suddenly the death-like face assumed an inexplicable expression. The +lips ceased to tremble, the eyes became animated: before the Countess +stood an unknown man. + +"Do not be alarmed, for Heaven's sake, do not be alarmed!" said he in +a low but distinct voice. "I have no intention of doing you any harm, +I have only come to ask a favour of you." + +The old woman looked at him in silence, as if she had not heard what +he had said. Hermann thought that she was deaf, and bending down +towards her ear, he repeated what he had said. The aged Countess +remained silent as before. + +"You can insure the happiness of my life," continued Hermann, "and it +will cost you nothing. I know that you can name three cards in +order--" + +Hermann stopped. The Countess appeared now to understand what he +wanted; she seemed as if seeking for words to reply. + +"It was a joke," she replied at last: "I assure you it was only a +joke." + +"There is no joking about the matter," replied Hermann angrily. +"Remember Chaplitzky, whom you helped to win." + +The Countess became visibly uneasy. Her features expressed strong +emotion, but they quickly resumed their former immobility. + +"Can you not name me these three winning cards?" continued Hermann. + +The Countess remained silent; Hermann continued: + +"For whom are you preserving your secret? For your grandsons? They are +rich enough without it; they do not know the worth of money. Your +cards would be of no use to a spendthrift. He who cannot preserve his +paternal inheritance, will die in want, even though he had a demon at +his service. I am not a man of that sort; I know the value of money. +Your three cards will not be thrown away upon me. Come!"... + +He paused and tremblingly awaited her reply. The Countess remained +silent; Hermann fell upon his knees. + +"If your heart has ever known the feeling of love," said he, "if you +remember its rapture, if you have ever smiled at the cry of your +new-born child, if any human feeling has ever entered into your +breast, I entreat you by the feelings of a wife, a lover, a mother, by +all that is most sacred in life, not to reject my prayer. Reveal to me +your secret. Of what use is it to you?... May be it is connected with +some terrible sin with the loss of eternal salvation, with some +bargain with the devil... Reflect,--you are old; you have not long to +live--I am ready to take your sins upon my soul. Only reveal to me +your secret. Remember that the happiness of a man is in your hands, +that not only I, but my children, and grandchildren will bless your +memory and reverence you as a saint..." + +The old Countess answered not a word. + +Hermann rose to his feet. + +"You old hag!" he exclaimed, grinding his teeth, "then I will make you +answer!" + +With these words he drew a pistol from his pocket. + +At the sight of the pistol, the Countess for the second time exhibited +strong emotion. She shook her head and raised her hands as if to +protect herself from the shot... then she fell backwards and remained +motionless. + +"Come, an end to this childish nonsense!" said Hermann, taking hold of +her hand. "I ask you for the last time: will you tell me the names of +your three cards, or will you not?" + +The Countess made no reply. Hermann perceived that she was dead! + + + +IV + + +Lizaveta Ivanovna was sitting in her room, still in her ball dress, +lost in deep thought. On returning home, she had hastily dismissed the +chambermaid who very reluctantly came forward to assist her, saying +that she would undress herself, and with a trembling heart had gone up +to her own room, expecting to find Hermann there, but yet hoping not +to find him. At the first glance she convinced herself that he was not +there, and she thanked her fate for having prevented him keeping the +appointment. She sat down without undressing, and began to recall to +mind all the circumstances which in so short a time had carried her so +far. It was not three weeks since the time when she first saw the +young officer from the window--and yet she was already in +correspondence with him, and he had succeeded in inducing her to grant +him a nocturnal interview! She knew his name only through his having +written it at the bottom of some of his letters; she had never spoken +to him, had never heard his voice, and had never heard him spoken of +until that evening. But, strange to say, that very evening at the +ball, Tomsky, being piqued with the young Princess Pauline N----, who, +contrary to her usual custom, did not flirt with him, wished to +revenge himself by assuming an air of indifference: he therefore +engaged Lizaveta Ivanovna and danced an endless mazurka with her. +During the whole of the time he kept teasing her about her partiality +for Engineer officers; he assured her that he knew far more than she +imagined, and some of his jests were so happily aimed, that Lizaveta +thought several times that her secret was known to him. + +"From whom have you learnt all this?" she asked, smiling. + +"From a friend of a person very well known to you," replied Tomsky, +"from a very distinguished man." + +"And who is this distinguished man?" + +"His name is Hermann." + +Lizaveta made no reply; but her hands and feet lost all sense of +feeling. + +"This Hermann," continued Tomsky, "is a man of romantic personality. +He has the profile of a Napoleon, and the soul of a Mephistopheles. I +believe that he has at least three crimes upon his conscience... How +pale you have become!" + +"I have a headache... But what did this Hermann--or whatever his name +is--tell you?" + +"Hermann is very much dissatisfied with his friend: he says that in +his place he would act very differently... I even think that Hermann +himself has designs upon you; at least, he listens very attentively to +all that his friend has to say about you." + +"And where has he seen me?" + +"In church, perhaps; or on the parade--God alone knows where. It may +have been in your room, while you were asleep, for there is nothing +that he--" + +Three ladies approaching him with the question: "_oubli ou regret_?" +interrupted the conversation, which had become so tantalisingly +interesting to Lizaveta. + +The lady chosen by Tomsky was the Princess Pauline herself. She +succeeded in effecting a reconciliation with him during the numerous +turns of the dance, after which he conducted her to her chair. On +returning to his place, Tomsky thought no more either of Hermann or +Lizaveta. She longed to renew the interrupted conversation, but the +mazurka came to an end, and shortly afterwards the old Countess took +her departure. + +Tomsky's words were nothing more than the customary small talk of the +dance, but they sank deep into the soul of the young dreamer. The +portrait, sketched by Tomsky, coincided with the picture she had +formed within her own mind, and thanks to the latest romances, the +ordinary countenance of her admirer became invested with attributes +capable of alarming her and fascinating her imagination at the same +time. She was now sitting with her bare arms crossed and with her +head, still adorned with flowers, sunk upon her uncovered bosom. +Suddenly the door opened and Hermann entered. She shuddered. + +"Where were you?" she asked in a terrified whisper. + +"In the old Countess's bedroom," replied Hermann: "I have just left +her. The Countess is dead." + +"My God! What do you say?" + +"And I am afraid," added Hermann, "that I am the cause of her death." + +Lizaveta looked at him, and Tomsky's words found an echo in her soul: +"This man has at least three crimes upon his conscience!" Hermann sat +down by the window near her, and related all that had happened. + +Lizaveta listened to him in terror. So all those passionate letters, +those ardent desires, this bold obstinate pursuit--all this was not +love! Money--that was what his soul yearned for! She could not satisfy +his desire and make him, happy I The poor girl had been nothing but +the blind tool of a robber, of the murderer of her aged +benefactress!... She wept bitter tears of agonised repentance. Hermann +gazed at her in silence: his heart, too, was a prey to violent +emotion, but neither the tears of the poor girl, nor the wonderful +charm of her beauty, enhanced by her grief, could produce any +impression upon his hardened soul. He felt no pricking of conscience +at the thought of the dead old woman. One thing only grieved him: the +irreparable loss of the secret from which he had expected to obtain +great wealth. + +"You are a monster!" said Lizaveta at last. + +"I did not wish for her death," replied Hermann: "my pistol was not +loaded." + +Both remained silent. + +The day began to dawn. Lizaveta extinguished her candle: a pale light +illumined her room. She wiped her tear-stained eyes and raised them +towards Hermann: he was sitting near the window, with his arms crossed +and with a fierce frown upon his forehead. In this attitude he bore a +striking resemblance to the portrait of Napoleon. This resemblance +struck Lizaveta even. + +"How shall I get you out of the house?" said she at last. "I thought +of conducting you down the secret staircase, but in that case it would +be necessary to go through the Countess's bedroom, and I am afraid." + +"Tell me how to find this secret staircase--I will go alone." + +Lizaveta arose, took from her drawer a key, handed it to Hermann and +gave him the necessary instructions. Hermann pressed her cold, limp +hand, kissed her bowed head, and left the room. + +He descended the winding staircase, and once more entered the +Countess's bedroom. The dead old lady sat as if petrified; her face +expressed profound tranquillity. Hermann stopped before her, and gazed +long and earnestly at her, as if he wished to convince himself of the +terrible reality; at last he entered the cabinet, felt behind the +tapestry for the door, and then began to descend the dark staircase, +filled with strange emotions. "Down this very staircase," thought he, +"perhaps coming from the very same room, and at this very same hour +sixty years ago, there may have glided, in an embroidered coat, with +his hair dressed _a l'oiseau royal_ and pressing to his heart his +three-cornered hat, some young gallant, who has long been mouldering +in the grave, but the heart of his aged mistress has only to-day +ceased to beat..." + +At the bottom of the staircase Hermann found a door, which he opened +with a key, and then traversed a corridor which conducted him into the +street. + + + +V + + +Three days after the fatal night, at nine o'clock in the morning, +Hermann repaired to the Convent of ----, where the last honours were +to be paid to the mortal remains of the old Countess. Although feeling +no remorse, he could not altogether stifle the voice of conscience, +which said to him: "You are the murderer of the old woman!" In spite +of his entertaining very little religious belief, he was exceedingly +superstitious; and believing that the dead Countess might exercise an +evil influence on his life, he resolved to be present at her obsequies +in order to implore her pardon. + +The church was full. It was with difficulty that Hermann made his way +through the crowd of people. The coffin was placed upon a rich +catafalque beneath a velvet baldachin. The deceased Countess lay +within it, with her hands crossed upon her breast, with a lace cap +upon her head and dressed in a white satin robe. Around the catafalque +stood the members of her household: the servants in black _caftans_, +with armorial ribbons upon their shoulders, and candles in their +hands; the relatives--children, grandchildren, and +great-grandchildren--in deep mourning. + +Nobody wept; tears would have been _une affectation_. The Countess was +so old, that her death could have surprised nobody, and her relatives +had long looked upon her as being out of the world. A famous preacher +pronounced the funeral sermon. In simple and touching words he +described the peaceful passing away of the righteous, who had passed +long years in calm preparation for a Christian end. "The angel of +death found her," said the orator, "engaged in pious meditation and +waiting for the midnight bridegroom." + +The service concluded amidst profound silence. The relatives went +forward first to take farewell of the corpse. Then followed the +numerous guests, who had come to render the last homage to her who for +so many years had been a participator in their frivolous amusements. +After these followed the members of the Countess's household. The last +of these was an old woman of the same age as the deceased. Two young +women led her forward by the hand. She had not strength enough to bow +down to the ground--she merely shed a few tears and kissed the cold +hand of her mistress. + +Hermann now resolved to approach the coffin. He knelt down upon the +cold stones and remained in that position for some minutes; at last he +arose, as pale as the deceased Countess herself; he ascended the steps +of the catafalque and bent over the corpse... At that moment it seemed +to him that the dead woman darted a mocking look at him and winked +with one eye. Hermann started back, took a false step and fell to the +ground. Several persons hurried forward and raised him up. At the same +moment Lizaveta Ivanovna was borne fainting into the porch of the +church. This episode disturbed for some minutes the solemnity of the +gloomy ceremony. Among the congregation arose a deep murmur, and a +tall thin chamberlain, a near relative of the deceased, whispered in +the ear of an Englishman who was standing near him, that the young +officer was a natural son of the Countess, to which the Englishman +coldly replied: "Oh!" + +During the whole of that day, Hermann was strangely excited. Repairing +to an out-of-the-way restaurant to dine, he drank a great deal of +wine, contrary to his usual custom, in the hope of deadening his +inward agitation. But the wine only served to excite his imagination +still more. On returning home, he threw himself upon his bed without +undressing, and fell into a deep sleep. + +When he woke up it was already night, and the moon was shining into +the room. He looked at his watch: it was a quarter to three. Sleep had +left him; he sat down upon his bed and thought of the funeral of the +old Countess. + +At that moment somebody in the street looked in at his window, and +immediately passed on again. Hermann paid no attention to this +incident. A few moments afterwards he heard the door of his ante-room +open. Hermann thought that it was his orderly, drunk as usual, +returning from some nocturnal expedition, but presently he heard +footsteps that were unknown to him: somebody was walking softly over +the floor in slippers. The door opened, and a woman dressed in white, +entered the room. Hermann mistook her for his old nurse, and wondered +what could bring her there at that hour of the night. But the white +woman glided rapidly across the room and stood before him--and Hermann +recognised the Countess! + +"I have come to you against my wish," she said in a firm voice: "but I +have been ordered to grant your request. Three, seven, ace, will win +for you if played in succession, but only on these conditions: that +you do not play more than one card in twenty-four hours, and that you +never play again during the rest of your life. I forgive you my death, +on condition that you marry my companion, Lizaveta Ivanovna." + +With these words she turned round very quietly, walked with a +shuffling gait towards the door and disappeared. Hermann heard the +street-door open and shut, and again he saw some one look in at him +through the window. + +For a long time Hermann could not recover himself. He then rose up and +entered the next room. His orderly was lying asleep upon the floor, +and he had much difficulty in waking him. The orderly was drunk as +usual, and no information could be obtained from him. The street-door +was locked. Hermann returned to his room, lit his candle, and wrote +down all the details of his vision. + + + +VI + + +Two fixed ideas can no more exist together in the moral world than two +bodies can occupy one and the same place in the physical world. +"Three, seven, ace," soon drove out of Hermann's mind the thought of +the dead Countess. "Three, seven, ace," were perpetually running +through his head and continually being repeated by his lips. If he saw +a young girl, he would say: "How slender she is! quite like the three +of hearts." If anybody asked: "What is the time?" he would reply: +"Five minutes to seven." Every stout man that he saw reminded him of +the ace. "Three, seven, ace" haunted him in his sleep, and assumed all +possible shapes. The threes bloomed before him in the forms of +magnificent flowers, the sevens were represented by Gothic portals, +and the aces became transformed into gigantic spiders. One thought +alone occupied his whole mind--to make a profitable use of the secret +which he had purchased so dearly. He thought of applying for a +furlough so as to travel abroad. He wanted to go to Paris and tempt +fortune in some of the public gambling-houses that abounded there. +Chance spared him all this trouble. + +There was in Moscow a society of rich gamesters, presided over by the +celebrated Chekalinsky, who had passed all his life at the card-table +and had amassed millions, accepting bills of exchange for his winnings +and paying his losses in ready money. His long experience secured for +him the confidence of his companions, and his open house, his famous +cook, and his agreeable and fascinating manners gained for him the +respect of the public. He came to St. Petersburg. The young men of the +capital flocked to his rooms, forgetting balls for cards, and +preferring the emotions of faro to the seductions of flirting. Narumov +conducted Hermann to Chekalinsky's residence. + +They passed through a suite of magnificent rooms, filled with +attentive domestics. The place was crowded. Generals and Privy +Counsellors were playing at whist; young men were lolling carelessly +upon the velvet-covered sofas, eating ices and smoking pipes. In the +drawing-room, at the head of a long table, around which were assembled +about a score of players, sat the master of the house keeping the +bank. He was a man of about sixty years of age, of a very dignified +appearance; his head was covered with silvery-white hair; his full, +florid countenance expressed good-nature, and his eyes twinkled with a +perpetual smile. Narumov introduced Hermann to him. Chekalinsky shook +him by the hand in a friendly manner, requested him not to stand on +ceremony, and then went on dealing. + +The game occupied some time. On the table lay more than thirty cards. +Chekalinsky paused after each throw, in order to give the players time +to arrange their cards and note down their losses, listened politely +to their requests, and more politely still, put straight the corners +of cards that some player's hand had chanced to bend. At last the game +was finished. Chekalinsky shuffled the cards and prepared to deal +again. + +"Will you allow me to take a card?" said Hermann, stretching out his +hand from behind a stout gentleman who was punting. + +Chekalinsky smiled and bowed silently, as a sign of acquiescence. +Narumov laughingly congratulated Hermann on his abjuration of that +abstention from cards which he had practised for so long a period, and +wished him a lucky beginning. + +"Stake!" said Hermann, writing some figures with chalk on the back of +his card. + +"How much?" asked the banker, contracting the muscles of his eyes; +"excuse me, I cannot see quite clearly." + +"Forty-seven thousand rubles," replied Hermann. + +At these words every head in the room turned suddenly round, and all +eyes were fixed upon Hermann. + +"He has taken leave of his senses!" thought Narumov. + +"Allow me to inform you," said Chekalinsky, with his eternal smile, +"that you are playing very high; nobody here has ever staked more than +two hundred and seventy-five rubles at once." + +"Very well," replied Hermann; "but do you accept my card or not?" + +Chekalinsky bowed in token of consent. + +"I only wish to observe," said he, "that although I have the greatest +confidence in my friends, I can only play against ready money. For my +own part, I am quite convinced that your word is sufficient, but for +the sake of the order of the game, and to facilitate the reckoning up, +I must ask you to put the money on your card." + +Hermann drew from his pocket a bank-note and handed it to Chekalinsky, +who, after examining it in a cursory manner, placed it on Hermann's +card. + +He began to deal. On the right a nine turned up, and on the left a +three. + +"I have won!" said Hermann, showing his card. + +A murmur of astonishment arose among the players. Chekalinsky frowned, +but the smile quickly returned to his face. + +"Do you wish me to settle with you?" he said to Hermann. + +"If you please," replied the latter. + +Chekalinsky drew from his pocket a number of banknotes and paid at +once. Hermann took up his money and left the table. Narumov could not +recover from his astonishment. Hermann drank a glass of lemonade and +returned home. + +The next evening he again repaired to Chekalinsky's. The host was +dealing. Hermann walked up to the table; the punters immediately made +room for him. Chekalinsky greeted him with a gracious bow. + +Hermann waited for the next deal, took a card and placed upon it his +forty-seven thousand roubles, together with his winnings of the +previous evening. + +Chekalinsky began to deal. A knave turned up on the right, a seven on +the left. + +Hermann showed his seven. + +There was a general exclamation. Chekalinsky was evidently ill at +ease, but he counted out the ninety-four thousand rubles and handed +them over to Hermann, who pocketed them in the coolest manner possible +and immediately left the house. + +The next evening Hermann appeared again at the table. Every one was +expecting him. The generals and Privy Counsellors left their whist in +order to watch such extraordinary play. The young officers quitted +their sofas, and even the servants crowded into the room. All pressed +round Hermann. The other players left off punting, impatient to see +how it would end. Hermann stood at the table and prepared to play +alone against the pale, but still smiling Chekalinsky. Each opened a +pack of cards. Chekalinsky shuffled. Hermann took a card and covered +it with a pile of bank-notes. It was like a duel. Deep silence reigned +around. + +Chekalinsky began to deal; his hands trembled. On the right a queen +turned up, and on the left an ace. + +"Ace has won!" cried Hermann, showing his card. + +"Your queen has lost," said Chekalinsky, politely. + +Hermann started; instead of an ace, there lay before him the queen of +spades! He could not believe his eyes, nor could he understand how he +had made such a mistake. + +At that moment it seemed to him that the queen of spades smiled +ironically and winked her eye at him. He was struck by her remarkable +resemblance... + +"The old Countess!" he exclaimed, seized with terror. + +Chekalinsky gathered up his winnings. For some time, Hermann remained +perfectly motionless. When at last he left the table, there was a +general commotion in the room. + +"Splendidly punted!" said the players. Chekalinsky shuffled the cards +afresh, and the game went on as usual. + + * * * * * + +Hermann went out of his mind, and is now confined in room Number 17 of +the Obukhov Hospital. He never answers any questions, but he +constantly mutters with unusual rapidity: "Three, seven, ace!" "Three, +seven, queen!" + +Lizaveta Ivanovna has married a very amiable young man, a son of the +former steward of the old Countess. He is in the service of the State +somewhere, and is in receipt of a good income. Lizaveta is also +supporting a poor relative. + +Tomsky has been promoted to the rank of captain, and has become the +husband of the Princess Pauline. + + + + +THE CLOAK + + + +BY NIKOLAY V. GOGOL + + +In the department of----, but it is better not to mention the +department. The touchiest things in the world are departments, +regiments, courts of justice, in a word, all branches of public +service. Each individual nowadays thinks all society insulted in his +person. Quite recently, a complaint was received from a district chief +of police in which he plainly demonstrated that all the imperial +institutions were going to the dogs, and that the Czar's sacred name +was being taken in vain; and in proof he appended to the complaint a +romance, in which the district chief of police is made to appear about +once in every ten pages, and sometimes in a downright drunken +condition. Therefore, in order to avoid all unpleasantness, it will be +better to designate the department in question, as a certain +department. + +So, in a certain department there was a certain official--not a very +notable one, it must be allowed--short of stature, somewhat +pock-marked, red-haired, and mole-eyed, with a bald forehead, wrinkled +cheeks, and a complexion of the kind known as sanguine. The St. +Petersburg climate was responsible for this. As for his official +rank--with us Russians the rank comes first--he was what is called a +perpetual titular councillor, over which, as is well known, some +writers make merry and crack their jokes, obeying the praiseworthy +custom of attacking those who cannot bite back. + +His family name was Bashmachkin. This name is evidently derived from +bashmak (shoe); but, when, at what time, and in what manner, is not +known. His father and grandfather, and all the Bashmachkins, always +wore boots, which were resoled two or three times a year. His name was +Akaky Akakiyevich. It may strike the reader as rather singular and +far-fetched; but he may rest assured that it was by no means +far-fetched, and that the circumstances were such that it would have +been impossible to give him any other. + +This was how it came about. + +Akaky Akakiyevich was born, if my memory fails me not, in the evening +on the 23rd of March. His mother, the wife of a Government official, +and a very fine woman, made all due arrangements for having the child +baptised. She was lying on the bed opposite the door; on her right +stood the godfather, Ivan Ivanovich Eroshkin, a most estimable man, +who served as the head clerk of the senate; and the godmother, Arina +Semyonovna Bielobrinshkova, the wife of an officer of the quarter, and +a woman of rare virtues. They offered the mother her choice of three +names, Mokiya, Sossiya, or that the child should be called after the +martyr Khozdazat. "No," said the good woman, "all those names are +poor." In order to please her, they opened the calendar at another +place; three more names appeared, Triphily, Dula, and Varakhasy. "This +is awful," said the old woman. "What names! I truly never heard the +like. I might have put up with Varadat or Varukh, but not Triphily and +Varakhasy!" They turned to another page and found Pavsikakhy and +Vakhtisy. "Now I see," said the old woman, "that it is plainly fate. +And since such is the case, it will be better to name him after his +father. His father's name was Akaky, so let his son's name be Akaky +too." In this manner he became Akaky Akakiyevich. They christened the +child, whereat he wept, and made a grimace, as though he foresaw that +he was to be a titular councillor. + +In this manner did it all come about. We have mentioned it in order +that the reader might see for himself that it was a case of necessity, +and that it was utterly impossible to give him any other name. + +When and how he entered the department, and who appointed him, no one +could remember. However much the directors and chiefs of all kinds +were changed, he was always to be seen in the same place, the same +attitude, the same occupation--always the letter-copying clerk--so +that it was afterwards affirmed that he had been born in uniform with +a bald head. No respect was shown him in the department. The porter +not only did not rise from his seat when he passed, but never even +glanced at him, any more than if a fly had flown through the +reception-room. His superiors treated him in coolly despotic fashion. +Some insignificant assistant to the head clerk would thrust a paper +under his nose without so much as saying, "Copy," or, "Here's an +interesting little case," or anything else agreeable, as is customary +amongst well-bred officials. And he took it, looking only at the +paper, and not observing who handed it to him, or whether he had the +right to do so; simply took it, and set about copying it. + +The young officials laughed at and made fun of him, so far as their +official wit permitted; told in his presence various stories concocted +about him, and about his landlady, an old woman of seventy; declared +that she beat him; asked when the wedding was to be; and strewed bits +of paper over his head, calling them snow. But Akaky Akakiyevich +answered not a word, any more than if there had been no one there +besides himself. It even had no effect upon his work. Amid all these +annoyances he never made a single mistake in a letter. But if the +joking became wholly unbearable, as when they jogged his head, and +prevented his attending to his work, he would exclaim: + +"Leave me alone! Why do you insult me?" + +And there was something strange in the words and the voice in which +they were uttered. There was in it something which moved to pity; so +much so that one young man, a newcomer, who, taking pattern by the +others, had permitted himself to make sport of Akaky, suddenly stopped +short, as though all about him had undergone a transformation, and +presented itself in a different aspect. Some unseen force repelled him +from the comrades whose acquaintance he had made, on the supposition +that they were decent, well-bred men. Long afterwards, in his gayest +moments, there recurred to his mind the little official with the bald +forehead, with his heart-rending words, "Leave me alone! Why do you +insult me?" In these moving words, other words resounded--"I am thy +brother." And the young man covered his face with his hand; and many a +time afterwards, in the course of his life, shuddered at seeing how +much inhumanity there is in man, how much savage coarseness is +concealed beneath refined, cultured, worldly refinement, and even, O +God! in that man whom the world acknowledges as honourable and +upright. + +It would be difficult to find another man who lived so entirely for +his duties. It is not enough to say that Akaky laboured with zeal; no, +he laboured with love. In his copying, he found a varied and agreeable +employment. Enjoyment was written on his face; some letters were even +favourites with him; and when he encountered these, he smiled, winked, +and worked with his lips, till it seemed as though each letter might +be read in his face, as his pen traced it. If his pay had been in +proportion to his zeal, he would, perhaps, to his great surprise, have +been made even a councillor of state. But he worked, as his +companions, the wits, put it, like a horse in a mill. + +However, it would be untrue to say that no attention was paid to him. +One director being a kindly man, and desirous of rewarding him for his +long service, ordered him to be given something more important than +mere copying. So he was ordered to make a report of an already +concluded affair, to another department; the duty consisting simply in +changing the heading and altering a few words from the first to the +third person. This caused him so much toil, that he broke into a +perspiration, rubbed his forehead, and finally said, "No, give me +rather something to copy." After that they let him copy on forever. + +Outside this copying, it appeared that nothing existed for him. He +gave no thought to his clothes. His uniform was not green, but a sort +of rusty-meal colour. The collar was low, so that his neck, in spite +of the fact that it was not long, seemed inordinately so as it emerged +from it, like the necks of the plaster cats which pedlars carry about +on their heads. And something was always sticking to his uniform, +either a bit of hay or some trifle. Moreover, he had a peculiar knack, +as he walked along the street, of arriving beneath a window just as +all sorts of rubbish was being flung out of it; hence he always bore +about on his hat scraps of melon rinds, and other such articles. Never +once in his life did he give heed to what was going on every day to +the street; while it is well known that his young brother officials +trained the range of their glances till they could see when any one's +trouser-straps came undone upon the opposite sidewalk, which always +brought a malicious smile to their faces. But Akaky Akakiyevich saw in +all things the clean, even strokes of his written lines; and only when +a horse thrust his nose, from some unknown quarter, over his shoulder, +and sent a whole gust of wind down his neck from his nostrils, did he +observe that he was not in the middle of a line, but in the middle of +the street. + +On reaching home, he sat down at once at the table, sipped his +cabbage-soup up quickly, and swallowed a bit of beef with onions, +never noticing their taste, and gulping down everything with flies and +anything else which the Lord happened to send at the moment. When he +saw that his stomach was beginning to swell, he rose from the table, +and copied papers which he had brought home. If there happened to be +none, he took copies for himself, for his own gratification, +especially if the document was noteworthy, not on account of its +style, but of its being addressed to some distinguished person. + +Even at the hour when the grey St. Petersburg sky had quite +disappeared, and all the official world had eaten or dined, each as he +could, in accordance with the salary he received and his own fancy; +when, all were resting from the department jar of pens, running to and +fro, for their own and other people's indispensable occupations', and +from all the work that an uneasy man makes willingly for himself, +rather than what is necessary; when, officials hasten to dedicate to +pleasure the time which is left to them, one bolder than the rest, +going to the theatre; another; into the street looking under the +bonnets; another, wasting his evening in compliments to some pretty +girl, the star of a small official circle; another--and this is the +common case of all--visiting his comrades on the third or fourth +floor, in two small rooms with an ante-room or kitchen, and some +pretensions to fashion, such as a lamp or some other trifle which has +cost many a sacrifice of dinner or pleasure trip; in a word, at the +hour when all officials disperse among the contracted quarters of +their friends, to play whist, as they sip their tea from glasses with +a kopek's worth of sugar, smoke long pipes, relate at time some bits +of gossip which a Russian man can never, under any circumstances, +refrain from, and when there is nothing else to talk of, repeat +eternal anecdotes about the commandant to whom they had sent word that +the tails of the horses on the Falconet Monument had been cut off; +when all strive to divert themselves, Akaky Akakiyevich indulged in no +kind of diversion. No one could even say that he had seen him at any +kind of evening party. Having written to his heart's content, he lay +down to sleep, smiling at the thought of the coming day--of what God +might send him to copy on the morrow. + +Thus flowed on the peaceful life of the man, who, with a salary of +four hundred rubles, understood how to be content with his lot; and +thus it would have continued to flow on, perhaps, to extreme old age, +were it not that there are various ills strewn along the path of life +for titular councillors as well as for private, actual, court, and +every other species of councillor, even to those who never give any +advice or take any themselves. + +There exists in St. Petersburg a powerful foe of all who receive a +salary of four hundred rubles a year, or there-abouts. This foe is no +other than the Northern cold, although it is said to be very healthy. +At nine o'clock in the morning, at the very hour when the streets are +filled with men bound for the various official departments, it begins +to bestow such powerful and piercing nips on all noses impartially, +that the poor officials really do not know what to do with them. At an +hour, when the foreheads of even those who occupy exalted positions +ache with the cold, and tears start to their eyes, the poor titular +councillors are sometimes quite unprotected. Their only salvation lies +in traversing as quickly as possible, in their thin little cloaks, +five or six streets, and then warming their feet in the porter's room, +and so thawing all their talents and qualifications for official +service, which had become frozen on the way. + +Akaky Akakiyevich had felt for some time that his back and shoulders +were paining with peculiar poignancy, in spite of the fact that he +tried to traverse the distance with all possible speed. He began +finally to wonder whether the fault did not lie in his cloak. He +examined it thoroughly at home, and discovered that in two places, +namely, on the back and shoulders, it had become thin as gauze. The +cloth was worn to such a degree that he could see through it, and the +lining had fallen into pieces. You must know that Akaky Akakiyevich's +cloak served as an object of ridicule to the officials. They even +refused it the noble name of cloak, and called it a cape. In fact, it +was of singular make, its collar diminishing year by year to serve to +patch its other parts. The patching did not exhibit great skill on the +part of the tailor, and was, in fact, baggy and ugly. Seeing how the +matter stood, Akaky Akakiyevich decided that it would be necessary to +take the cloak to Petrovich, the tailor, who lived somewhere on the +fourth floor up a dark staircase, and who, in spite of his having but +one eye and pock-marks all over his face, busied himself with +considerable success in repairing the trousers and coats of officials +and others; that is to say, when he was sober and not nursing some +other scheme in his head. + +It is not necessary to say much about this tailor, but as it is the +custom to have the character of each personage in a novel clearly +defined there is no help for it, so here is Petrovich the tailor. At +first he was called only Grigory, and was some gentleman's serf. He +commenced calling himself Petrovich from the time when he received his +free papers, and further began to drink heavily on all holidays, at +first on the great ones, and then on all church festivals without +discrimination, wherever a cross stood in the calendar. On this point +he was faithful to ancestral custom; and when quarrelling with his +wife, he called her a low female and a German. As we have mentioned +his wife, it will be necessary to say a word or two about her. +Unfortunately, little is known of her beyond the fact that Petrovich +had a wife, who wore a cap and a dress, but could not lay claim to +beauty, at least, no one but the soldiers of the guard even looked +under her cap when they met her. + +Ascending the staircase which led to Petrovich's room--which staircase +was all soaked with dish-water and reeked with the smell of spirits +which affects the eyes, and is an inevitable adjunct to all dark +stairways in St. Petersburg houses--ascending the stairs, Akaky +Akakiyevich pondered how much Petrovich would ask, and mentally +resolved not to give more than two rubles. The door was open, for the +mistress, in cooking some fish, had raised such a smoke in the kitchen +that not even the beetles were visible. Akaky Akakiyevich passed +through the kitchen unperceived, even by the housewife, and at length +reached a room where he beheld Petrovich seated on a large unpainted +table, with his legs tucked under him like a Turkish pasha. His feet +were bare, after the fashion of tailors as they sit at work; and the +first thing which caught the eye was his thumb, with a deformed nail +thick and strong as a turtle's shell. About Petrovich's neck hung a +skein of silk and thread, and upon his knees lay some old garment. He +had been trying unsuccessfully for three minutes to thread his needle, +and was enraged at the darkness and even at the thread, growling in a +low voice, "It won't go through, the barbarian! you pricked me, you +rascal!" + +Akaky Akakiyevich was vexed at arriving at the precise moment when +Petrovich was angry. He liked to order something of Petrovich when he +was a little downhearted, or, as his wife expressed it, "when he had +settled himself with brandy, the one-eyed devil!" Under such +circumstances Petrovich generally came down in his price very readily, +and even bowed and returned thanks. Afterwards, to be sure, his wife +would come, complaining that her husband had been drunk, and so had +fixed the price too low; but, if only a ten-kopek piece were added +then the matter would be settled. But now it appeared that Petrovich +was in a sober condition, and therefore rough, taciturn, and inclined +to demand, Satan only knows what price. Akaky Akakiyevich felt this, +and would gladly have beat a retreat, but he was in for it. Petrovich +screwed up his one eye very intently at him, and Akaky Akakiyevich +involuntarily said, "How do you do, Petrovich?" + +"I wish you a good morning, sir," said Petrovich squinting at Akaky +Akakiyevich's hands, to see what sort of booty he had brought. + +"Ah! I--to you, Petrovich, this--" It must be known that Akaky +Akakiyevich expressed himself chiefly by prepositions, adverbs, and +scraps of phrases which had no meaning whatever. If the matter was a +very difficult one, he had a habit of never completing his sentences, +so that frequently, having begun a phrase with the words, "This, in +fact, is quite--" he forgot to go on, thinking he had already finished +it. + +"What is it?" asked Petrovich, and with his one eye scanned Akaky +Akakiyevich's whole uniform from the collar down to the cuffs, the +back, the tails and the button-holes, all of which were well known to +him, since they were his own handiwork. Such is the habit of tailors; +it is the first thing they do on meeting one. + +"But I, here, this--Petrovich--a cloak, cloth--here you see, +everywhere, in different places, it is quite strong--it is a little +dusty and looks old, but it is new, only here in one place it is a +little--on the back, and here on one of the shoulders, it is a little +worn, yes, here on this shoulder it is a little--do you see? That is +all. And a little work--" + +Petrovich took the cloak, spread it out, to begin with, on the table, +looked at it hard, shook his head, reached out his hand to the +window-sill for his snuff-box, adorned with the portrait of some +general, though what general is unknown, for the place where the face +should have been had been rubbed through by the finger and a square +bit of paper had been pasted over it. Having taken a pinch of snuff, +Petrovich held up the cloak, and inspected it against the light, and +again shook his head. Then he turned it, lining upwards, and shook his +head once more. After which he again lifted the general-adorned lid +with its bit of pasted paper, and having stuffed his nose with snuff, +dosed and put away the snuff-box, and said finally, "No, it is +impossible to mend it. It is a wretched garment!" + +Akaky Akakiyevich's heart sank at these words. + +"Why is it impossible, Petrovich?" he said, almost in the pleading +voice of a child. "All that ails it is, that it is worn on the +shoulders. You must have some pieces--" + +"Yes, patches could be found, patches are easily found," said +Petrovich, "but there's nothing to sew them to. The thing is +completely rotten. If you put a needle to it--see, it will give way." + +"Let it give way, and you can put on another patch at once." + +"But there is nothing to put the patches on to. There's no use in +strengthening it. It is too far gone. It's lucky that it's cloth, for, +if the wind were to blow, it would fly away." + +"Well, strengthen it again. How this, in fact--" + +"No," said Petrovich decisively, "there is nothing to be done with it. +It's a thoroughly bad job. You'd better, when the cold winter weather +comes on, make yourself some gaiters out of it, because stockings are +not warm. The Germans invented them in order to make more money." +Petrovich loved on all occasions to have a fling at the Germans. "But +it is plain you must have a new cloak." + +At the word "new" all grew dark before Akaky Akakiyevich's eyes, and +everything in the room began to whirl round. The only thing he saw +clearly was the general with the paper face on the lid of Petrovich's +snuff-box. "A new one?" said he, as if still in a dream. "Why, I have +no money for that." + +"Yes, a new one," said Petrovich, with barbarous composure. + +"Well, if it came to a new one, how--it--" + +"You mean how much would it cost?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, you would have to lay out a hundred and fifty or more," said +Petrovich, and pursed up his lips significantly. He liked to produce +powerful effects, liked to stun utterly and suddenly, and then to +glance sideways to see what face the stunned person would put on the +matter. + +"A hundred and fifty rubles for a cloak!" shrieked poor Akaky +Akakiyevich, perhaps for the first time in his life, for his voice had +always been distinguished for softness. + +"Yes, sir," said Petrovich, "for any kind of cloak. If you have a +marten fur on the collar, or a silk-lined hood, it will mount up to +two hundred." + +"Petrovich, please," said Akaky Akakiyevich in a beseeching tone, not +hearing, and not trying to hear, Petrovich's words, and disregarding +all his "effects," "some repairs, in order that it may wear yet a +little longer." + +"No, it would only be a waste of time and money," said Petrovich. And +Akaky Akakiyevich went away after these words, utterly discouraged. +But Petrovich stood for some time after his departure, with +significantly compressed lips, and without betaking himself to his +work, satisfied that he would not be dropped, and an artistic tailor +employed. + +Akaky Akakiyevich went out into the street as if in a dream. "Such an +affair!" he said to himself. "I did not think it had come to--" and +then after a pause, he added, "Well, so it is! see what it has come to +at last! and I never imagined that it was so!" Then followed a long +silence, after which he exclaimed, "Well, so it is! see what +already--nothing unexpected that--it would be nothing--what a strange +circumstance!" So saying, instead of going home, he went in exactly +the opposite direction without suspecting it. On the way, a +chimney-sweep bumped up against him, and blackened his shoulder, and a +whole hatful of rubbish landed on him from the top of a house which +was building. He did not notice it, and only when he ran against a +watchman, who, having planted his halberd beside him, was shaking some +snuff from his box into his horny hand, did he recover himself a +little, and that because the watchman said, "Why are you poking +yourself into a man's very face? Haven't you the pavement?" This +caused him to look about him, and turn towards home. + +There only, he finally began to collect his thoughts, and to survey +his position in its clear and actual light, and to argue with himself, +sensibly and frankly, as with a reasonable friend, with whom one can +discuss private and personal matters. "No," said Akaky Akakiyevich, +"it is impossible to reason with Petrovich now. He is that--evidently, +his wife has been beating him. I'd better go to him on Sunday morning. +After Saturday night he will be a little cross-eyed and sleepy, for he +will want to get drunk, and his wife won't give him any money, and at +such a time, a ten-kopek piece in his hand will--he will become more +fit to reason with, and then the cloak and that--" Thus argued Akaky +Akakiyevich with himself regained his courage, and waited until the +first Sunday, when, seeing from afar that Petrovich's wife had left +the house, he went straight to him. + +Petrovich's eye was indeed very much askew after Saturday. His head +drooped, and he was very sleepy; but for all that, as soon as he knew +what it was a question of, it seemed as though Satan jogged his +memory. "Impossible," said he. "Please to order a new one." Thereupon +Akaky Akakiyevich handed over the ten-kopek piece. "Thank you, sir. I +will drink your good health," said Petrovich. "But as for the cloak, +don't trouble yourself about it; it is good for nothing. I will make +you a capital new one, so let us settle about it now." + +Akaky Akakiyevich was still for mending it, but Petrovich would not +hear of it, and said, "I shall certainly have to make you a new one, +and you may depend upon it that I shall do my best. It may even be, as +the fashion goes, that the collar can be fastened by silver hooks +under a flap." + +Then Akaky Akakiyevich saw that it was impossible to get along without +a new cloak, and his spirit sank utterly. How, in fact, was it to be +done? Where was the money to come from? He must have some new +trousers, and pay a debt of long standing to the shoemaker for putting +new tops to his old boots, and he must order three shirts from the +seamstress, and a couple of pieces of linen. In short, all his money +must be spent. And even if the director should be so kind as to order +him to receive forty-five or even fifty rubles instead of forty, it +would be a mere nothing, a mere drop in the ocean towards the funds +necessary for a cloak, although he knew that Petrovich was often +wrong-headed enough to blurt out some outrageous price, so that even +his own wife could not refrain from exclaiming, "Have you lost your +senses, you fool?" At one time he would not work at any price, and now +it was quite likely that he had named a higher sum than the cloak +would cost. + +But although he knew that Petrovich would undertake to make a cloak +for eighty rubles, still, where was he to get the eighty rubles from? +He might possibly manage half. Yes, half might be procured, but where +was the other half to come from? But the reader must first be told +where the first half came from. + +Akaky Akakiyevich had a habit of putting, for every ruble he spent, a +groschen into a small box, fastened with lock and key, and with a slit +in the top for the reception of money. At the end of every half-year +he counted over the heap of coppers, and changed it for silver. This +he had done for a long time, and in the course of years, the sum had +mounted up to over forty rubles. Thus he had one half on hand. But +where was he to find the other half? Where was he to get another forty +rubles from? Akaky Akakiyevich thought and thought, and decided that +it would be necessary to curtail his ordinary expenses, for the space +of one year at least, to dispense with tea in the evening, to burn no +candles, and, if there was anything which he must do, to go into his +landlady's room, and work by her light. When he went into the street, +he must walk as lightly as he could, and as cautiously, upon the +stones, almost upon tiptoe, in order not to wear his heels down in too +short a time. He must give the laundress as little to wash as +possible; and, in order not to wear out his clothes, he must take them +off as soon as he got home, and wear only his cotton dressing-gown, +which had been long and carefully saved. + +To tell the truth, it was a little hard for him at first to accustom +himself to these deprivations. But he got used to them at length, +after a fashion, and all went smoothly. He even got used to being +hungry in the evening, but he made up for it by treating himself, so +to say, in spirit, by bearing ever in mind the idea of his future +cloak. From that time forth, his existence seemed to become, in some; +way, fuller, as if he were married, or as if some other man lived in +him, as if, in fact, he were not alone, and some pleasant friend had +consented to travel along life's path with him, the friend being no +other than the cloak, with thick wadding and a strong lining incapable +of wearing out. He became more lively, and even his character grew +firmer, like that of a man who has made up his mind, and set himself a +goal. From his face and gait, doubt and indecision, all hesitating and +wavering disappeared of themselves. Fire gleamed in his eyes, and +occasionally the boldest and most daring ideas flitted through his +mind. Why not, for instance, have marten fur on the collar? The +thought of this almost made him absent-minded. Once, in copying a +letter, he nearly made a mistake, so that he exclaimed almost aloud, +"Ugh!" and crossed himself. Once, in the course of every month, he had +a conference with Petrovich on the subject of the cloak, where it +would be better to buy the cloth, and the colour, and the price. He +always returned home satisfied, though troubled, reflecting that the +time would come at last when it could all be bought, and then the +cloak made. + +The affair progressed more briskly than he had expected. For beyond +all his hopes, the director awarded neither forty nor forty-five +rubles for Akaky Akakiyevich's share, but sixty. Whether he suspected +that Akaky Akakiyevich needed a cloak, or whether it was merely +chance, at all events, twenty extra rubles were by this means +provided. This circumstance hastened matters. Two or three months more +of hunger and Akaky Akakiyevich had accumulated about eighty rubles. +His heart, generally so quiet, began to throb. On the first possible +day, he went shopping in company with Petrovich. They bought some very +good cloth, and at a reasonable rate too, for they had been +considering the matter for six months, and rarely let a month pass +without their visiting the shops to enquire prices. Petrovich himself +said that no better cloth could be had. For lining, they selected a +cotton stuff, but so firm and thick, that Petrovich declared it to be +better than silk, and even prettier and more glossy. They did not buy +the marten fur, because it was, in fact, dear, but in its stead, they +picked out the very best of cat-skin which could be found in the shop, +and which might, indeed, be taken for marten at a distance. + +Petrovich worked at the cloak two whole weeks, for there was a great +deal of quilting; otherwise it would have been finished sooner. He +charged twelve rubles for the job, it could not possibly have been +done for less. It was all sewed with silk, in small, double seams, and +Petrovich went over each seam afterwards with his own teeth, stamping +in various patterns. + +It was--it is difficult to say precisely on what day, but probably the +most glorious one in Akaky Akakiyevich's life, when Petrovich at +length brought home the cloak. He brought it in the morning, before +the hour when it was necessary to start for the department. Never did +a cloak arrive so exactly in the nick of time, for the severe cold had +set in, and it seemed to threaten to increase. Petrovich brought the +cloak himself as befits a good tailor. On his countenance was a +significant expression, such as Akaky; Akakiyevich had never beheld +there. He seemed fully sensible that he had done no small deed, and +crossed a gulf separating tailors who put in linings, and execute +repairs, from those who make new things. He took the cloak out of the +pocket-handkerchief in which he had brought it. The handkerchief was +fresh from the laundress, and he put it in his pocket for use. Taking +out the cloak, he gazed proudly at it, held it up with both hands, and +flung it skilfully over the shoulders of Akaky Akakiyevich. Then he +pulled it and fitted it down behind with his hand, and he draped it +around Akaky Akakiyevich without buttoning it. Akaky Akakiyevich, like +an experienced man, wished to try the sleeves. Petrovich helped him on +with them, and it turned out that the sleeves were satisfactory also. +In short, the cloak appeared to be perfect, and most seasonable. +Petrovich did not neglect to observe that it was only because he lived +in a narrow street, and had no signboard, and had known Akaky +Akakiyevich so long, that he had made it so cheaply; but that if he +had been in business on the Nevsky Prospect, he would have charged +seventy-five rubles for the making alone. Akaky Akakiyevich did not +care to argue this point with Petrovich. He paid him, thanked him, and +set out at once in his new cloak for the department. Petrovich +followed him, and pausing in the street, gazed long at the cloak in +the distance, after which he went to one side expressly to run through +a crooked alley, and emerge again into the street beyond to gaze once +more upon the cloak from another point, namely, directly in front. + +Meantime Akaky Akakiyevich went on in holiday mood. He was conscious +every second of the time that he had a new cloak on his shoulders, and +several times he laughed with internal satisfaction. In fact, there +were two advantages, one was its warmth, the other its beauty. He saw +nothing of the road, but suddenly found himself at the department. He +took off his cloak in the ante-room, looked it over carefully, and +confided it to the special care of the attendant. It is impossible to +say precisely how it was that every one in the department knew at once +that Akaky Akakiyevich had a new cloak, and that the "cape" no longer +existed. All rushed at the same moment into the ante-room to inspect +it. They congratulated him, and said pleasant things to him, so that +he began at first to smile, and then to grow ashamed. When all +surrounded him, and said that the new cloak must be "christened," and +that he must at least give them all a party, Akaky Akakiyevich lost +his head completely, and did not know where he stood, what to answer, +or how to get out of it. He stood blushing all over for several +minutes, trying to assure them with great simplicity that it was not a +new cloak, that it was in fact the old "cape." + +At length one of the officials, assistant to the head clerk, in order +to show that he was not at all proud, and on good terms with his +inferiors, said: + +"So be it, only I will give the party instead of Akaky Akakiyevich; I +invite you all to tea with me to-night. It just happens to be my +name-day too." + +The officials naturally at once offered the assistant clerk their +congratulations, and accepted the invitation with pleasure. Akaky +Akakiyevich would have declined; but all declared that it was +discourteous, that it was simply a sin and a shame, and that he could +not possibly refuse. Besides, the notion became pleasant to him when +he recollected that he should thereby have a chance of wearing his new +cloak in the evening also. + +That whole day was truly a most triumphant festival for Akaky +Akakiyevich. He returned home in the most happy frame of mind, took +off his cloak, and hung it carefully on the wall, admiring afresh the +cloth and the lining. Then he brought out his old, worn-out cloak, for +comparison. He looked at it, and laughed, so vast was the difference. +And long after dinner he laughed again when the condition of the +"cape" recurred to his mind. He dined cheerfully, and after dinner +wrote nothing, but took his ease for a while on the bed, until it got +dark. Then he dressed himself leisurely, put on his cloak, and stepped +out into the street. + +Where the host lived, unfortunately we cannot say. Our memory begins +to fail us badly. The houses and streets in St. Petersburg have become +so mixed up in our head that it is very difficult to get anything out +of it again in proper form. This much is certain, that the official +lived in the best part of the city; and therefore it must have been +anything but near to Akaky Akakiyevich's residence. Akaky Akakiyevich +was first obliged to traverse a kind of wilderness of deserted, +dimly-lighted streets. But in proportion as he approached the +official's quarter of the city, the streets became more lively, more +populous, and more brilliantly illuminated. Pedestrians began to +appear; handsomely dressed ladies were more frequently encountered; +the men had otter skin collars to their coats; shabby sleigh-men with +their wooden, railed sledges stuck over with brass-headed nails, +became rarer; whilst on the other hand, more and more drivers in red +velvet caps, lacquered sledges and bear-skin coats began to appear, +and carriages with rich hammer-cloths flew swiftly through the +streets, their wheels scrunching the snow. + +Akaky Akakiyevich gazed upon all this as upon a novel sight. He had +not been in the streets during the evening for years. He halted out of +curiosity before a shop-window, to look at a picture representing a +handsome woman, who had thrown off her shoe, thereby baring her whole +foot in a very pretty way; whilst behind her the head of a man with +whiskers and a handsome moustache peeped through the doorway of +another room. Akaky Akakiyevich shook his head, and laughed, and then +went on his way. Why did he laugh? Either because he had met with a +thing utterly unknown, but for which every one cherishes, +nevertheless, some sort of feeling, or else he thought, like many +officials, "Well, those French! What is to be said? If they do go in +for anything of that sort, why--" But possibly he did not think at +all. + +Akaky Akakiyevich at length reached the house in which the head +clerk's assistant lodged. He lived in fine style. The staircase was +lit by a lamp, his apartment being on the second floor. On entering +the vestibule, Akaky Akakiyevich beheld a whole row of goloshes on the +floor. Among them, in the centre of the room, stood a samovar, humming +and emitting clouds of steam. On the walls hung all sorts of coats and +cloaks, among which there were even some with beaver collars, or +velvet facings. Beyond, the buzz of conversation was audible, and +became clear and loud, when the servant came out with a trayful of +empty glasses, cream-jugs and sugar-bowls. It was evident that the +officials had arrived long before, and had already finished their +first glass of tea. + +Akaky Akakiyevich, having hung up his own cloak, entered the inner +room. Before him all at once appeared lights, officials, pipes, and +card-tables, and he was bewildered by a sound of rapid conversation +rising from all the tables, and the noise of moving chairs. He halted +very awkwardly in the middle of the room, wondering what he ought to +do. But they had seen him. They received him with a shout, and all +thronged at once into the ante-room, and there took another look at +his cloak. Akaky Akakiyevich, although somewhat confused, was +frank-hearted, and could not refrain from rejoicing when he saw how +they praised his cloak. Then, of course, they all dropped him and his +cloak, and returned, as was proper, to the tables set out for whist. + +All this, the noise, the talk, and the throng of people, was rather +overwhelming to Akaky Akakiyevich. He simply did not know where he +stood, or where to put his hands, his feet, and his whole body. +Finally he sat down by the players, looked at the cards, gazed at the +face of one and another, and after a while began to gape, and to feel +that it was wearisome, the more so, as the hour was already long past +when he usually went to bed. He wanted to take leave of the host, but +they would not let him go, saying that he must not fail to drink a +glass of champagne, in honour of his new garment. In the course of an +hour, supper, consisting of vegetable salad, cold veal, pastry, +confectioner's pies, and champagne, was served. They made Akaky +Akakiyevich drink two glasses of champagne, after which he felt things +grow livelier. + +Still, he could not forget that it was twelve o'clock, and that he +should have been at home long ago. In order that the host might not +think of some excuse for detaining him, he stole out of the room +quickly, sought out, in the ante-room, his cloak, which, to his +sorrow, he found lying on the floor, brushed it, picked off every +speck upon it, put it on his shoulders, and descended the stairs to +the street. + +In the street all was still bright. Some petty shops, those permanent +clubs of servants and all sorts of folks, were open. Others were shut, +but, nevertheless, showed a streak of light the whole length of the +door-crack, indicating that they were not yet free of company, and +that probably some domestics, male and female, were finishing their +stories and conversations, whilst leaving their masters in complete +ignorance as to their whereabouts. Akaky Akakiyevich went on in a +happy frame of mind. He even started to run, without knowing why, +after some lady, who flew past like a flash of lightning. But he +stopped short, and went on very quietly as before, wondering why he +had quickened his pace. Soon there spread before him these deserted +streets which are not cheerful in the daytime, to say no thing of the +evening. Now they were even mere dim and lonely. The lanterns began to +grow rarer, oil, evidently, had been less liberally supplied. Then +came wooden houses and fences. Not a soul anywhere; only the snow +sparkled in the streets, and mournfully veiled the low-roofed cabins +with their dosed shutters. He approached the spot where the street +crossed a vast square with houses barely visible on its farther side, +a square which seemed a fearful desert. + +Afar, a tiny spark glimmered from some watchman's-box, which seemed to +stand en the edge of the world. Ahaky Akakiyevich's cheerfulness +diminished at this point in a marked degree. He entered the square, +not without an involuntary sensation of fear, as though his heart +warned him of some evil. He glanced back, and on both sides it was +like a sea about him. "No, it is better not to look," he thought, and +went on, closing his eyes. When he opened them, to see whether he was +near the end of the square, he suddenly beheld, standing just before +his very nose, some bearded individuals of precisely what sort, he +could not make out. All grew dark before his eyes, and his heart +throbbed. + +"Of course, the cloak is mine!" said one of them in a loud voice, +seizing hold of his collar. Akaky Akakiyevich was about to shout +"Help!" when the second man thrust a fist, about the size of an +official's head, at his very mouth, muttering, "Just you dare to +scream!" + +Akaky Akakiyevich felt them strip off his cloak, and give him a kick. +He fell headlong upon the snow, and felt no more. + +In a few minutes he recovered consciousness, and rose to his feet, but +no one was there. He felt that it was cold in the square, and that his +cloak was gone. He began to shout, but his voice did not appear to +reach the outskirts of the square. In despair, but without ceasing to +shout, he started at a run across the square, straight towards the +watch-box, beside which stood the watchman, leaning on his halberd, +and apparently curious to know what kind of a customer was running +towards him shouting. Akaky Akakiyevich ran up to him, and began in a +sobbing voice to shout that he was asleep, and attended to nothing, +and did not see when a man was robbed. The watchman replied that he +had seen two men stop him in the middle of the square, but supposed +that they were friends of his, and that, instead of scolding vainly, +he had better go to the police on the morrow, so that they might make +a search for whoever had stolen the cloak. + +Akaky Akakiyevich ran home and arrived in a state of complete +disorder, his hair which grew very thinly upon his temples and the +back of his head all tousled, his body, arms and legs, covered with +snow. The old woman, who was mistress of his lodgings, on hearing a +terrible knocking, sprang hastily from her bed, and, with only one +shoe on, ran to open the door, pressing the sleeve of her chemise to +her bosom out of modesty. But when she had opened it, she fell back on +beholding Akaky Akakiyevich in such a condition. When he told her +about the affair, she clasped her hands, and said that he must go +straight to the district chief of police, for his subordinate would +turn up his nose, promise well, and drop the matter there. The very +best thing to do, therefore, would be to go to the district chief, +whom she knew, because Finnish Anna, her former cook, was now nurse at +his house. She often saw him passing the house, and he was at church +every Sunday, praying, but at the same time gazing cheerfully at +everybody; so that he must be a good man, judging from all +appearances. Having listened to this opinion, Akaky Akakiyevich betook +himself sadly to his room. And how he spent the night there, any one +who can put himself in another's place may readily imagine. + +Early in the morning, he presented himself at the district chief's, +but was told the official was asleep. He went again at ten and was +again informed that he was asleep. At eleven, and they said, "The +superintendent is not at home." At dinner time, and the clerks in the +ante-room would not admit him on any terms, and insisted upon knowing +his business. So that at last, for once in his life, Akaky Akakiyevich +felt an inclination to show some spirit, and said curtly that he must +see the chief in person, that they ought not to presume to refuse him +entrance, that he came from the department of justice, and that when +he complained of them, they would see. + +The clerks dared make no reply to this, and one of them went to call +the chief, who listened to the strange story of the theft of the coat. +Instead of directing his attention to the principal points of the +matter, he began to question Akaky Akakiyevich. Why was he going home +so late? Was he in the habit of doing so, or had he been to some +disorderly house? So that Akaky Akakiyevich got thoroughly confused, +and left him, without knowing whether the affair of his cloak was in +proper train or not. + +All that day, for the first time in his life, he never went near the +department. The next day he made his appearance, very pale, and in his +old cape, which had become even more shabby. The news of the robbery +of the cloak touched many, although there were some officials present +who never lost an opportunity, even such a one as the present, of +ridiculing Akaky Akakiyevich. They decided to make a collection for +him on the spot, but the officials had already spent a great deal in +subscribing for the director's portrait, and for some book, at the +suggestion of the head of that division, who was a friend of the +author; and so the sum was trifling. + +One of them, moved by pity, resolved to help Akaky Akakiyevich with +some good advice, at least, and told him that he ought not to go to +the police, for although it might happen that a police-officer, +wishing to win the approval of his superiors, might hunt up the cloak +by some means, still, his cloak would remain in the possession of the +police if he did not offer legal proof that it belonged to him. The +best thing for him, therefore, would be to apply to a certain +prominent personage; since this prominent personage, by entering into +relation with the proper persons, could greatly expedite the matter. + +As there was nothing else to be done, Akaky Akakiyevich decided to go +to the prominent personage. What was the exact official position of +the prominent personage, remains unknown to this day. The reader must +know that the prominent personage had but recently become a prominent +personage, having up to that time been only an insignificant person. +Moreover, his present position was not considered prominent in +comparison with others still more so. But there is always a circle of +people to whom what is insignificant in the eyes of others, is +important enough. Moreover, he strove to increase his importance by +sundry devices. For instance, he managed to have the inferior +officials meet him on the staircase when he entered upon his service; +no one was to presume to come directly to him, but the strictest +etiquette must be observed; the collegiate recorder must make a report +to the government secretary, the government secretary to the titular +councillor, or whatever other man was proper, and all business must +come before him in this manner. In Holy Russia, all is thus +contaminated with the love of imitation; every man imitates and copies +his superior. They even say that a certain titular councillor, when +promoted to the head of some small separate office, immediately +partitioned off a private room for himself, called it the audience +chamber, and posted at the door a lackey with red collar and braid, +who grasped the handle of the door, and opened to all comers, though +the audience chamber would hardly hold an ordinary writing table. + +The manners and customs of the prominent personage were grand and +imposing, but rather exaggerated. The main foundation of his system +was strictness. "Strictness, strictness, and always strictness!" he +generally said; and at the last word he looked significantly into the +face of the person to whom he spoke. But there was no necessity for +this, for the halfscore of subordinates, who formed the entire force +of the office, were properly afraid. On catching sight of him afar +off, they left their work, and waited, drawn up in line, until he had +passed through the room. His ordinary converse with his inferiors +smacked of sternness, and consisted chiefly of three phrases: "How +dare you?" "Do you know whom you are speaking to?" "Do you realise who +is standing before you?" + +Otherwise he was a very kind-hearted man, good to his comrades, and +ready to oblige. But the rank of general threw him completely off his +balance. On receiving any one of that rank, he became confused, lost +his way, as it were, and never knew what to do. If he chanced to be +amongst his equals, he was still a very nice kind of man, a very good +fellow in many respects, and not stupid, but the very moment that he +found himself in the society of people but one rank lower than +himself, he became silent. And his situation aroused sympathy, the +more so, as he felt himself that he might have been making an +incomparably better use of his time. In his eyes, there was sometimes +visible a desire to join some interesting conversation or group, but +he was kept back by the thought, "Would it not be a very great +condescension on his part? Would it not be familiar? And would he not +thereby lose his importance?" And in consequence of such reflections, +he always remained in the same dumb state, uttering from time to time +a few monosyllabic sounds, and thereby earning the name of the most +wearisome of men. + +To this prominent personage Akaky Akakiyevich presented himself, and +this at the most unfavourable time for himself, though opportune for +the prominent personage. The prominent personage was in his cabinet, +conversing very gaily with an old acquaintance and companion of his +childhood, whom he had not seen for several years, and who had just +arrived, when it was announced to him that a person named Bashmachkin +had come. He asked abruptly, "Who is he?"--"Some official," he was +informed. "Ah, he can wait! This is no time for him to call," said the +important man. + +It must be remarked here that the important man lied outrageously. He +had said all he had to say to his friend long before, and the +conversation had been interspersed for some time with very long +pauses, during which they merely slapped each other on the leg, and +said, "You think so, Ivan Abramovich!" "Just so, Stepan Varlamovich!" +Nevertheless, he ordered that the official should be kept waiting, in +order to show his friend, a man who had not been in the service for a +long time, but had lived at home in the country, how long officials +had to wait in his ante-room. + +At length, having talked himself completely out, and more than that, +having had his fill of pauses, and smoked a cigar in a very +comfortable arm-chair with reclining back, he suddenly seemed to +recollect, and said to the secretary, who stood by the door with +papers of reports, "So it seems that there is an official waiting to +see me. Tell him that he may come in." On perceiving Akaky +Akakiyevich's modest mien and his worn uniform, he turned abruptly to +him, and said, "What do you want?" in a curt hard voice, which he had +practised in his room in private, and before the looking-glass, for a +whole week before being raised to his present rank. + +Akaky Akakiyevich, who was already imbued with a due amount of fear, +became somewhat confused, and as well as his tongue would permit, +explained, with a rather more frequent addition than usual of the word +"that" that his cloak was quite new, and had been stolen in the most +inhuman manner; that he had applied to him, in order that he might, in +some way, by his intermediation--that he might enter into +correspondence with the chief of police, and find the cloak. + +For some inexplicable reason, this conduct seemed familiar to the +prominent personage. + +"What, my dear sir!" he said abruptly, "are you not acquainted with +etiquette? To whom have you come? Don't you know how such matters are +managed? You should first have presented a petition to the office. It +would have gone to the head of the department, then to the chief of +the division, then it would have been handed over to the secretary, +and the secretary would have given it to me." + +"But, your excellency," said Akaky Akakiyevich, trying to collect his +small handful of wits, and conscious at the same time that he was +perspiring terribly, "I, your excellency, presumed to trouble you +because secretaries--are an untrustworthy race." + +"What, what, what!" said the important personage. "Where did you get +such courage? Where did you get such ideas? What impudence towards +their chiefs and superiors has spread among the young generation!" The +prominent personage apparently had not observed that Akaky Akakiyevich +was already in the neighbourhood of fifty. If he could be called a +young man, it must have been in comparison with some one who was +seventy. "Do you know to whom you are speaking? Do you realise who is +standing before you? Do you realise it? Do you realise it, I ask you!" +Then he stamped his foot, and raised his voice to such a pitch that it +would have frightened even a different man from Akaky Akakiyevich. + +Akaky Akakiyevich's senses failed him. He staggered, trembled in every +limb, and, if the porters had not run in to support him, would have +fallen to the floor. They carried him out insensible. But the +prominent personage, gratified that the effect should have surpassed +his expectations, and quite intoxicated with the thought that his word +could even deprive a man of his senses, glanced sideways at his friend +in order to see how he looked upon this, and perceived, not without +satisfaction, that his friend was in a most uneasy frame of mind, and +even beginning on his part, to feel a trifle frightened. + +Akaky Akakiyevich could not remember how he descended the stairs, and +got into the street. He felt neither his hands nor feet. Never in his +life had he been so rated by any high official, let alone a strange +one. He went staggering on through the snow-storm, which was blowing +in the streets, with his mouth wide open. The wind, in St. Petersburg +fashion, darted upon him from all quarters, and down every +cross-street. In a twinkling it had blown a quinsy into his throat, +and he reached home unable to utter a word. His throat was swollen, +and he lay down on his bed. So powerful is sometimes a good scolding! + +The next day a violent fever developed. Thanks to the generous +assistance of the St. Petersburg climate, the malady progressed more +rapidly than could have been expected, and when the doctor arrived, he +found, on feeling the sick man's pulse, that there was nothing to be +done, except to prescribe a poultice, so that the patient might not be +left entirely without the beneficent aid of medicine. But at the same +time, he predicted his end in thirty-six hours. After this he turned +to the landlady, and said, "And as for you, don't waste your time on +him. Order his pine coffin now, for an oak one will be too expensive +for him." + +Did Akaky Akakiyevich hear these fatal words? And if he heard them, +did they produce any overwhelming effect upon him? Did he lament the +bitterness of his life?--We know not, for he continued in a delirious +condition. Visions incessantly appeared to him, each stranger than the +other. Now he saw Petrovich, and ordered him to make a cloak, with +some traps for robbers, who seemed to him to be always under the bed; +and he cried every moment to the landlady to pull one of them from +under his coverlet. Then he inquired why his old mantle hung before +him when he had a new cloak. Next he fancied that he was standing +before the prominent person, listening to a thorough setting-down and +saying, "Forgive me, your excellency!" but at last he began to curse, +uttering the most horrible words, so that his aged landlady crossed +herself, never in her life having heard anything of the kind from him, +and more so as these words followed directly after the words "your +excellency." Later on he talked utter nonsense, of which nothing could +be made, all that was evident being that these incoherent words and +thoughts hovered ever about one thing, his cloak. + +At length poor Akaky Akakiyevich breathed his last. They sealed up +neither his room nor his effects, because, in the first place, there +were no heirs, and, in the second, there was very little to inherit +beyond a bundle of goose-quills, a quire of white official paper, +three pairs of socks, two or three buttons which had burst off his +trousers, and the mantle already known to the reader. To whom all this +fell, God knows. I confess that the person who told me this tale took +no interest in the matter. They carried Akaky Akakiyevich out, and +buried him. + +And St. Petersburg was left without Akaky Akakiyevich, as though he +had never lived there. A being disappeared, who was protected by none, +dear to none, interesting to none, and who never even attracted to +himself the attention of those students of human nature who omit no +opportunity of thrusting a pin through a common fly and examining it +under the microscope. A being who bore meekly the jibes of the +department, and went to his grave without having done one unusual +deed, but to whom, nevertheless, at the close of his life, appeared a +bright visitant in the form of a cloak, which momentarily cheered his +poor life, and upon him, thereafter, an intolerable misfortune +descended, just as it descends upon the heads of the mighty of this +world! + +Several days after his death, the porter was sent from the department +to his lodgings, with an order for him to present himself there +immediately, the chief commanding it. But the porter had to return +unsuccessful, with the answer that he could not come; and to the +question, "Why?" replied, "Well, because he is dead! he was buried +four days ago." In this manner did they hear of Akaky Akakiyevich's +death at the department. And the next day a new official sat in his +place, with a handwriting by no means so upright, but more inclined +and slanting. + +But who could have imagined that this was not really the end of Akaky +Akakiyevich, that he was destined to raise a commotion after death, as +if in compensation for his utterly insignificant life? But so it +happened, and our poor story unexpectedly gains a fantastic ending. + +A rumour suddenly spread through St. Petersburg, that a dead man had +taken to appearing on the Kalinkin Bridge, and its vicinity, at night +in the form of an official seeking a stolen cloak, and that, under the +pretext of its being the stolen cloak, he dragged, without regard to +rank or calling, every one's cloak from his shoulders, be it cat-skin, +beaver, fox, bear, sable, in a word, every sort of fur and skin which +men adopted for their covering. One of the department officials saw +the dead man with his own eyes, and immediately recognised in him +Akaky Akakiyevich. This, however, inspired him with such terror, that +he ran off with all his might, and therefore did not scan the dead man +closely, but only saw how the latter threatened him from afar with his +finger. Constant complaints poured in from all quarters, that the +backs and shoulders, not only of titular but even of court +councillors, were exposed to the danger of a cold, on account of the +frequent dragging off of their cloaks. + +Arrangements were made by the police to catch the corpse, alive or +dead, at any cost, and punish him as an example to others, in the most +severe manner. In this they nearly succeeded, for a watchman, on guard +in Kirinshkin Lane, caught the corpse by the collar on the very scene +of his evil deeds, when attempting to pull off the frieze cloak of a +retired musician. Having seized him by the collar, he summoned, with a +shout, two of his comrades, whom he enjoined to hold him fast, while +he himself felt for a moment in his boot, in order to draw out his +snuff-box, and refresh his frozen nose. But the snuff was of a sort +which even a corpse could not endure. The watchman having closed his +right nostril with his finger, had no sooner succeeded in holding half +a handful up to the left, than the corpse sneezed so violently that he +completely filled the eyes of all three. While they raised their hands +to wipe them, the dead man vanished completely, so that they +positively did not know whether they had actually had him in their +grip at all. Thereafter the watchmen conceived such a terror of dead +men that they were afraid even to seize the living, and only screamed +from a distance. "Hey, there! go your way!" So the dead official began +to appear even beyond the Kalinkin Bridge, causing no little terror to +all timid people. + +But we have totally neglected that certain prominent personage who may +really be considered as the cause of the fantastic turn taken by this +true history. First of all, justice compels us to say, that after the +departure of poor, annihilated Akaky Akakiyevich, he felt something +like remorse. Suffering was unpleasant to him, for his heart was +accessible to many good impulses, in spite of the fact that his rank +often prevented his showing his true self. As soon as his friend had +left his cabinet, he began to think about poor Akaky Akakiyevich. And +from that day forth, poor Akaky Akakiyevich, who could not bear up +under an official reprimand, recurred to his mind almost every day. +The thought troubled him to such an extent, that a week later he even +resolved to send an official to him, to learn whether he really could +assist him. And when it was reported to him that Akaky Akakiyevich had +died suddenly of fever, he was startled, hearkened to the reproaches +of his conscience, and was out of sorts for the whole day. + +Wishing to divert his mind in some way and drive away the disagreeable +impression, he set out that evening for one of his friends' houses, +where he found quite a large party assembled. What was better, nearly +every one was of the same rank as himself, so that he need not feel in +the least constrained. This had a marvellous effect upon his mental +state. He grew expansive, made himself agreeable in conversation, in +short, he passed a delightful evening After supper he drank a couple +of glasses of champagne--not a bad recipe for cheerfulness, as every +one knows. The champagne inclined him to various adventures, and he +determined not to return home, but to go and see a certain well-known +lady, of German extraction, Karolina Ivanovna, a lady, it appears, +with whom he was on a very friendly footing. + +It must be mentioned that the prominent personage was no longer a +young man, but a good husband and respected father of a family. Two +sons, one of whom was already in the service, and a good-looking, +sixteen-year-old daughter, with a slightly arched but pretty little +nose, came every morning to kiss his hand and say, "_Bon jour_, papa." +His wife, a still fresh and good-looking woman, first gave him her +hand to kiss, and then, reversing the procedure, kissed his. But the +prominent personage, though perfectly satisfied in his domestic +relations, considered it stylish to have a friend in another quarter +of the city. This friend was scarcely prettier or younger than his +wife; but there are such puzzles in the world, and it is not our place +to judge them. So the important personage descended the stairs, +stepped into his sledge, said to the coachman, "To Karolina +Ivanovna's," and, wrapping himself luxuriously in his warm cloak, +found himself in that delightful frame of mind than which a Russian +can conceive nothing better, namely, when you think of nothing +yourself, yet when the thoughts creep into your mind of their own +accord, each more agreeable than the other, giving you no trouble +either to drive them away, or seek them. Fully satisfied, he recalled +all the gay features of the evening just passed and all the mots which +had made the little circle laugh. Many of them he repeated in a low +voice, and found them quite as funny as before; so it is not +surprising that he should laugh heartily at them. Occasionally, +however, he was interrupted by gusts of wind, which, coming suddenly, +God knows whence or why, cut his face, drove masses of snow into it, +filled out his cloak-collar like a sail, or suddenly blew it over his +head with supernatural force, and thus caused him constant trouble to +disentangle himself. + +Suddenly the important personage felt some one clutch him firmly by +the collar. Turning round, he perceived a man of short stature, in an +old, worn uniform, and recognised, not without terror, Akaky +Akakiyevich. The official's face was white as snow, and looked just +like a corpse's. But the horror of the important personage transcended +all bounds when he saw the dead man's mouth open, and heard it utter +the following remarks, while it breathed upon him the terrible odour +of the grave: "Ah, here you are at last! I have you, that--by the +collar! I need your cloak. You took no trouble about mine, but +reprimanded me. So now give up your own." + +The pallid prominent personage almost died of fright. Brave as he was +in the office and in the presence of inferiors generally, and +although, at the sight of his manly form and appearance, every one +said, "Ugh! how much character he has!" at this crisis, he, like many +possessed of an heroic exterior, experienced such terror, that, not +without cause, he began to fear an attack of illness. He flung his +cloak hastily from his shoulders and shouted to his coachman in an +unnatural voice, "Home at full speed!" The coachman, hearing the tone +which is generally employed at critical moments, and even accompanied +by something much more tangible, drew his head down between his +shoulders in case of an emergency, flourished his whip, and flew on +like an arrow. In a little more than six minutes the prominent +personage was at the entrance of his own house. Pale, thoroughly +scared, and cloakless, he went home instead of to Karolina Ivanovna's, +reached his room somehow or other, and passed the night in the direst +distress; so that the next morning over their tea, his daughter said, +"You are very pale to-day, papa." But papa remained silent, and said +not a word to any one of what had happened to him, where he had been, +or where he had intended to go. + +This occurrence made a deep impression upon him. He even began to say, +"How dare you? Do you realise who is standing before you?" less +frequently to the under-officials, and, if he did utter the words, it +was only after first having learned the bearings of the matter. But +the most noteworthy point was, that from that day forward the +apparition of the dead official ceased to be seen. Evidently the +prominent personage's cloak just fitted his shoulders. At all events, +no more instances of his dragging cloaks from people's shoulders were +heard of. But many active and solicitous persons could by no means +reassure themselves, and asserted that the dead official still showed +himself in distant parts of the city. + +In fact, one watchman in Kolomen saw with his own eyes the apparition +come from behind a house. But the watchman was not a strong man, so he +was afraid to arrest him, and followed him in the dark, until, at +length, the apparition looked round, paused, and inquired, "What do +you want?" at the same time showing such a fist as is never seen on +living men. The watchman said, "Nothing," and turned back instantly. +But the apparition was much too tall, wore huge moustaches, and, +directing its steps apparently towards the Obukhov Bridge, disappeared +in the darkness of the night. + + + + +THE DISTRICT DOCTOR + + + +BY IVAN S. TURGENEV + + +One day in autumn on my way back from a remote part of the country I +caught cold and fell ill. Fortunately the fever attacked me in the +district town at the inn; I sent for the doctor. In half-an-hour the +district doctor appeared, a thin, dark-haired man of middle height. He +prescribed me the usual sudorific, ordered a mustard-plaster to be put +on, very deftly slid a five-ruble note up his sleeve, coughing drily +and looking away as he did so, and then was getting up to go home, but +somehow fell into talk and remained. I was exhausted with +feverishness; I foresaw a sleepless night, and was glad of a little +chat with a pleasant companion. Tea was served. My doctor began to +converse freely. He was a sensible fellow, and expressed himself with +vigour and some humour. Queer things happen in the world: you may live +a long while with some people, and be on friendly terms with them, and +never once speak openly with them from your soul; with others you have +scarcely time to get acquainted, and all at once you are pouring out +to him--or he to you--all your secrets, as though you were at +confession. I don't know how I gained the confidence of my new +friend--anyway, with nothing to lead up to it, he told me a rather +curious incident; and here I will report his tale for the information +of the indulgent reader. I will try to tell it in the doctor's own +words. + +"You don't happen to know," he began in a weak and quavering voice +(the common result of the use of unmixed Berezov snuff); "you don't +happen to know the judge here, Mylov, Pavel Lukich?... You don't know +him?... Well, it's all the same." (He cleared his throat and rubbed +his eyes.) "Well, you see, the thing happened, to tell you exactly +without mistake, in Lent, at the very time of the thaws. I was sitting +at his house--our judge's, you know--playing preference. Our judge is +a good fellow, and fond of playing preference. Suddenly" (the doctor +made frequent use of this word, suddenly) "they tell me, 'There's a +servant asking for you.' I say, 'What does he want?' They say, He has +brought a note--it must be from a patient.' 'Give me the note,' I say. +So it is from a patient--well and good--you understand--it's our bread +and butter... But this is how it was: a lady, a widow, writes to me; +she says, 'My daughter is dying. Come, for God's sake!' she says, 'and +the horses have been sent for you.'... Well, that's all right. But she +was twenty miles from the town, and it was midnight out of doors, and +the roads in such a state, my word! And as she was poor herself, one +could not expect more than two silver rubles, and even that +problematic; and perhaps it might only be a matter of a roll of linen +and a sack of oatmeal in _payment_. However, duty, you know, before +everything: a fellow-creature may be dying. I hand over my cards at +once to Kalliopin, the member of the provincial commission, and return +home. I look; a wretched little trap was standing at the steps, with +peasant's horses, fat--too fat--and their coat as shaggy as felt; and +the coachman sitting with his cap off out of respect. Well, I think to +myself, 'It's clear, my friend, these patients aren't rolling in +riches.'... You smile; but I tell you, a poor man like me has to take +everything into consideration... If the coachman sits like a prince, +and doesn't touch his cap, and even sneers at you behind his beard, +and flicks his whip--then you may bet on six rubles. But this case, I +saw, had a very different air. However, I think there's no help for +it; duty before everything. I snatch up the most necessary drugs, and +set off. Will you believe it? I only just managed to get there at all. +The road was infernal: streams, snow, watercourses, and the dyke had +suddenly burst there--that was the worst of it! However, I arrived at +last. It was a little thatched house. There was a light in the +windows; that meant they expected me. I was met by an old lady, very +venerable, in a cap. 'Save her!' she says; 'she is dying.' I say, +'Pray don't distress yourself--Where is the invalid?' 'Come this way.' +I see a clean little room, a lamp in the corner; on the bed a girl of +twenty, unconscious. She was in a burning heat, and breathing +heavily--it was fever. There were two other girls, her sisters, scared +and in tears. 'Yesterday,' they tell me, 'she was perfectly well and +had a good appetite; this morning she complained of her head, and this +evening, suddenly, you see, like this.' I say again: 'Pray don't be +uneasy.' It's a doctor's duty, you know--and I went up to her and bled +her, told them to put on a mustard-plaster, and prescribed a mixture. +Meantime I looked at her; I looked at her, you know--there, by God! I +had never seen such a face!--she was a beauty, in a word! I felt quite +shaken with pity. Such lovely features; such eyes!... But, thank God! +she became easier; she fell into a perspiration, seemed to come to her +senses, looked round, smiled, and passed her hand over her face... Her +sisters bent over her. They ask, 'How are you?' 'All right,' she says, +and turns away. I looked at her; she had fallen asleep. 'Well,' I say, +'now the patient should be left alone.' So we all went out on tiptoe; +only a maid remained, in case she was wanted. In the parlour there was +a samovar standing on the table, and a bottle of rum; in our +profession one can't get on without it. They gave me tea; asked me to +stop the night... I consented: where could I go, indeed, at that time +of night? The old lady kept groaning. 'What is it?' I say; 'she will +live; don't worry yourself; you had better take a little rest +yourself; it is about two o'clock.' 'But will you send to wake me if +anything happens?' 'Yes, yes.' The old lady went away, and the girls +too went to their own room; they made up a bed for me in the parlour. +Well, I went to bed--but I could not get to sleep, for a wonder! for +in reality I was very tired. I could not get my patient out of my +head. At last I could not put up with it any longer; I got up +suddenly; I think to myself, 'I will go and see how the patient is +getting on.' Her bedroom was next to the parlour. Well, I got up, and +gently opened the door--how my heart beat! I looked in: the servant +was asleep, her mouth wide open, and even snoring, the wretch! but the +patient lay with her face towards me and her arms flung wide apart, +poor girl! I went up to her ... when suddenly she opened her eyes and +stared at me! 'Who is it? who is it?' I was in confusion. 'Don't be +alarmed, madam,' I say; 'I am the doctor; I have come to see how you +feel.' 'You the doctor?' 'Yes, the doctor; your mother sent for me +from the town; we have bled you, madam; now pray go to sleep, and in a +day or two, please God! we will set you on your feet again.' 'Ah, yes, +yes, doctor, don't let me die... please, please.' 'Why do you talk +like that? God bless you!' She is in a fever again, I think to myself; +I felt her pulse; yes, she was feverish. She looked at me, and then +took me by the hand. 'I will tell you why I don't want to die: I will +tell you... Now we are alone; and only, please don't you ... not to +any one ... Listen...' I bent down; she moved her lips quite to my +ear; she touched my cheek with her hair--I confess my head went +round--and began to whisper... I could make out nothing of it... Ah, +she was delirious! ... She whispered and whispered, but so quickly, +and as if it were not in Russian; at last she finished, and shivering +dropped her head on the pillow, and threatened me with her finger: +'Remember, doctor, to no one.' I calmed her somehow, gave her +something to drink, waked the servant, and went away." + +At this point the doctor again took snuff with exasperated energy, and +for a moment seemed stupefied by its effects. + +"However," he continued, "the next day, contrary to my expectations, +the patient was no better. I thought and thought, and suddenly decided +to remain there, even though my other patients were expecting me... +And you know one can't afford to disregard that; one's practice +suffers if one does. But, in the first place, the patient was really +in danger; and secondly, to tell the truth, I felt strongly drawn to +her. Besides, I liked the whole family. Though they were really badly +off, they were singularly, I may say, cultivated people... Their +father had been a learned man, an author; he died, of course, in +poverty, but he had managed before he died to give his children an +excellent education; he left a lot of books too. Either because I +looked after the invalid very carefully, or for some other reason; +anyway, I can venture to say all the household loved me as if I were +one of the family... Meantime the roads were in a worse state than +ever; all communications, so to say, were cut off completely; even +medicine could with difficulty be got from the town... The sick girl +was not getting better... Day after day, and day after day ... but ... +here..." (The doctor made a brief pause.) "I declare I don't know how +to tell you."... (He again took snuff, coughed, and swallowed a little +tea.) "I will tell you without beating about the bush. My patient ... +how should I say?... Well she had fallen in love with me ... or, no, +it was not that she was in love ... however ... really, how should one +say?" (The doctor looked down and grew red.) "No," he went on quickly, +"in love, indeed! A man should not over-estimate himself. She was an +educated girl, clever and well-read, and I had even forgotten my +Latin, one may say, completely. As to appearance" (the doctor looked +himself over with a smile) "I am nothing to boast of there either. But +God Almighty did not make me a fool; I don't take black for white; I +know a thing or two; I could see very clearly, for instance that +Aleksandra Andreyevna--that was her name--did not feel love for me, +but had a friendly, so to say, inclination--a respect or something for +me. Though she herself perhaps mistook this sentiment, anyway this was +her attitude; you may form your own judgment of it. But," added the +doctor, who had brought out all these disconnected sentences without +taking breath, and with obvious embarrassment, "I seem to be wandering +rather--you won't understand anything like this ... There, with your +leave, I will relate it all in order." + +He drank off a glass of tea, and began in a calmer voice. + +"Well, then. My patient kept getting worse and worse. You are not a +doctor, my good sir; you cannot understand what passes in a poor +fellow's heart, especially at first, when he begins to suspect that +the disease is getting the upper hand of him. What becomes of his +belief in himself? You suddenly grow so timid; it's indescribable. You +fancy then that you have forgotten everything you knew, and that the +patient has no faith in you, and that other people begin to notice how +distracted you are, and tell you the symptoms with reluctance; that +they are looking at you suspiciously, whispering... Ah! it's horrid! +There must be a remedy, you think, for this disease, if one could find +it. Isn't this it? You try--no, that's not it! You don't allow the +medicine the necessary time to do good... You clutch at one thing, +then at another. Sometimes you take up a book of medical +prescriptions--here it is, you think! Sometimes, by Jove, you pick one +out by chance, thinking to leave it to fate... But meantime a +fellow-creature's dying, and another doctor would have saved him. 'We +must have a consultation,' you say; 'I will not take the +responsibility on myself.' And what a fool you look at such times! +Well, in time you learn to bear it; it's nothing to you. A man has +died--but it's not your fault; you treated him by the rules. But +what's still more torture to you is to see blind faith in you, and to +feel yourself that you are not able to be of use. Well, it was just +this blind faith that the whole of Aleksandra Andreyevna's family had +in me; they had forgotten to think that their daughter was in danger. +I, too, on my side assure them that it's nothing, but meantime my +heart sinks into my boots. To add to our troubles, the roads were in +such a state that the coachman was gone for whole days together to get +medicine. And I never left the patient's room; I could not tear myself +away; I tell her amusing stories, you know, and play cards with her. I +watch by her side at night. The old mother thanks me with tears in her +eyes; but I think to myself, 'I don't deserve your gratitude.' I +frankly confess to you--there is no object in concealing it now--I was +in love with my patient. And Aleksandra Andreyevna had grown fond of +me; she would not sometimes let any one be in her room but me. She +began to talk to me, to ask me questions; where I had studied, how I +lived, who are my people, whom I go to see. I feel that she ought not +to talk; but to forbid her to--to forbid her resolutely, you know--I +could not. Sometimes I held my head in my hands, and asked myself, +"What are you doing, villain?"... And she would take my hand and hold +it, give me a long, long look, and turn away, sigh, and say, 'How good +you are!' Her hands were so feverish, her eyes so large and languid... +'Yes,' she says, 'you are a good, kind man; you are not like our +neighbours... No, you are not like that... Why did I not know you till +now!' 'Aleksandra Andreyevna, calm yourself,' I say... 'I feel, +believe me, I don't know how I have gained ... but there, calm +yourself... All will be right; you will be well again.' And meanwhile +I must tell you," continued the doctor, bending forward and raising +his eyebrows, "that they associated very little with the neighbours, +because the smaller people were not on their level, and pride hindered +them from being friendly with the rich. I tell you, they were an +exceptionally cultivated family; so you know it was gratifying for me. +She would only take her medicine from my hands ... she would lift +herself up, poor girl, with my aid, take it, and gaze at me... My +heart felt as if it were bursting. And meanwhile she was growing worse +and worse, worse and worse, all the time; she will die, I think to +myself; she must die. Believe me, I would sooner have gone to the +grave myself; and here were her mother and sisters watching me, +looking into my eyes ... and their faith in me was wearing away. +'Well? how is she?' 'Oh, all right, all right!' All right, indeed! My +mind was failing me. Well, I was sitting one night alone again by my +patient. The maid was sitting there too, and snoring away in full +swing; I can't find fault with the poor girl, though; she was worn out +too. Aleksandra Andreyevna had felt very unwell all the evening; she +was very feverish. Until midnight she kept tossing about; at last she +seemed to fall asleep; at least, she lay still without stirring. The +lamp was burning in the corner before the holy image. I sat there, you +know, with my head bent; I even dozed a little. Suddenly it seemed as +though some one touched me in the side; I turned round... Good God! +Aleksandra Andreyevna was gazing with intent eyes at me ... her lips +parted, her cheeks seemed burning. 'What is it?' 'Doctor, shall I +die?' 'Merciful Heavens!' 'No, doctor, no; please don't tell me I +shall live ... don't say so... If you knew... Listen! for God's sake +don't conceal my real position,' and her breath came so fast. 'If I +can know for certain that I must die ... then I will tell you all-- +all!' 'Aleksandra Andreyevna, I beg!' 'Listen; I have not been asleep +at all ... I have been looking at you a long while... For God's +sake!... I believe in you; you are a good man, an honest man; I +entreat you by all that is sacred in the world--tell me the truth! If +you knew how important it is for me... Doctor, for God's sake tell +me... Am I in danger?' 'What can I tell you, Aleksandra Andreyevna, +pray?' 'For God's sake, I beseech you!' 'I can't disguise from you,' I +say, 'Aleksandra Andreyevna; you are certainly in danger; but God is +merciful.' 'I shall die, I shall die.' And it seemed as though she +were pleased; her face grew so bright; I was alarmed. 'Don't be +afraid, don't be afraid! I am not frightened of death at all.' She +suddenly sat up and leaned on her elbow. 'Now ... yes, now I can tell +you that I thank you with my whole heart ... that you are kind and +good--that I love you!' I stare at her, like one possessed; it was +terrible for me, you know. 'Do you hear, I love you!' 'Aleksandra +Andreyevna, how have I deserved--' 'No, no, you don't--you don't +understand me.'... And suddenly she stretched out her arms, and taking +my head in her hands, she kissed it... Believe me, I almost screamed +aloud... I threw myself on my knees, and buried my head in the pillow. +She did not speak; her fingers trembled in my hair; I listen; she is +weeping. I began to soothe her, to assure her... I really don't know +what I did say to her. 'You will wake up the girl,' I say to her; +'Aleksandra Andreyevna, I thank you ... believe me ... calm yourself.' +'Enough, enough!' she persisted; 'never mind all of them; let them +wake, then; let them come in--it does not matter; I am dying, you +see... And what do you fear? why are you afraid? Lift up your head... +Or, perhaps, you don't love me; perhaps I am wrong... In that case, +forgive me.' 'Aleksandra Andreyevna, what are you saying!... I love +you, Aleksandra Andreyevna.' She looked straight into my eyes, and +opened her arms wide. 'Then take me in your arms.' I tell you frankly, +I don't know how it was I did not go mad that night. I feel that my +patient is killing herself; I see that she is not fully herself; I +understand, too, that if she did not consider herself on the point of +death, she would never have thought of me; and, indeed, say what you +will, it's hard to die at twenty without having known love; this was +what was torturing her; this was why, in, despair, she caught at +me--do you understand now? But she held me in her arms, and would not +let me go. 'Have pity on me, Aleksandra Andreyevna, and have pity on +yourself,' I say. 'Why,' she says; 'what is there to think of? You +know I must die.' ... This she repeated incessantly ... 'If I knew +that I should return to life, and be a proper young lady again, I +should be ashamed ... of course, ashamed ... but why now?' 'But who +has said you will die?' 'Oh, no, leave off! you will not deceive me; +you don't know how to lie--look at your face.' ... 'You shall live, +Aleksandra Andreyevna; I will cure you; we will ask your mother's +blessing ... we will be united--we will be happy.' 'No, no, I have +your word; I must die ... you have promised me ... you have told me.' +... It was cruel for me--cruel for many reasons. And see what trifling +things can do sometimes; it seems nothing at all, but it's painful. It +occurred to her to ask me, what is my name; not my surname, but my +first name. I must needs be so unlucky as to be called Trifon. Yes, +indeed; Trifon Ivanich. Every one in the house called me doctor. +However, there's no help for it. I say, 'Trifon, madam.' She frowned, +shook her head, and muttered something in French--ah, something +unpleasant, of course!--and then she laughed--disagreeably too. Well, +I spent the whole night with her in this way. Before morning I went +away, feeling as though I were mad. When I went again into her room it +was daytime, after morning tea. Good God! I could scarcely recognise +her; people are laid in their grave looking better than that. I swear +to you, on my honour, I don't understand--I absolutely don't +understand--now, how I lived through that experience. Three days and +nights my patient still lingered on. And what nights! What things she +said to me! And on the last night--only imagine to yourself--I was +sitting near her, and kept praying to God for one thing only: 'Take +her,' I said, 'quickly, and me with her.' Suddenly the old mother +comes unexpectedly into the room. I had already the evening before +told her---the mother--there was little hope, and it would be well to +send for a priest. When the sick girl saw her mother she said: 'It's +very well you have come; look at us, we love one another--we have +given each other our word.' 'What does she say, doctor? what does she +say?' I turned livid. 'She _is_ wandering,' I say; 'the fever.' But +she: 'Hush, hush; you told me something quite different just now, and +have taken my ring. Why do you pretend? My mother is good--she will +forgive--she will understand--and I am dying. ... I have no need to +tell lies; give me your hand.' I jumped up and ran out of the room. +The old lady, of course, guessed how it was. + +"I will not, however, weary you any longer, and to me too, of course, +it's painful to recall all this. My patient passed away the next day. +God rest her soul!" the doctor added, speaking quickly and with a +sigh. "Before her death she asked her family to go out and leave me +alone with her." + +"'Forgive me,' she said; 'I am perhaps to blame towards you ... my +illness ... but believe me, I have loved no one more than you ... do +not forget me ... keep my ring.'" + +The doctor turned away; I took his hand. + +"Ah!" he said, "let us talk of something else, or would you care to +play preference for a small stake? It is not for people like me to +give way to exalted emotions. There's only one thing for me to think +of; how to keep the children from crying and the wife from scolding. +Since then, you know, I have had time to enter into lawful wedlock, as +they say... Oh ... I took a merchant's daughter--seven thousand for +her dowry. Her name's Akulina; it goes well with Trifon. She is an +ill-tempered woman, I must tell you, but luckily she's asleep all +day... Well, shall it be preference?" + +We sat down to preference for halfpenny points. Trifon Ivanich won two +rubles and a half from me, and went home late, well pleased with his +success. + + + + +THE CHRISTMAS TREE AND THE WEDDING + + + +BY FIODOR M. DOSTOYEVSKY + + +The other day I saw a wedding... But no! I would rather tell you about +a Christmas tree. The wedding was superb. I liked it immensely. But +the other incident was still finer. I don't know why it is that the +sight of the wedding reminded me of the Christmas tree. This is the +way it happened: + +Exactly five years ago, on New Year's Eve, I was invited to a +children's ball by a man high up in the business world, who had his +connections, his circle of acquaintances, and his intrigues. So it +seemed as though the children's ball was merely a pretext for the +parents to come together and discuss matters of interest to +themselves, quite innocently and casually. + +I was an outsider, and, as I had no special matters to air, I was able +to spend the evening independently of the others. There was another +gentleman present who like myself had just stumbled upon this affair +of domestic bliss. He was the first to attract my attention. His +appearance was not that of a man of birth or high family. He was tall, +rather thin, very serious, and well dressed. Apparently he had no +heart for the family festivities. The instant he went off into a +corner by himself the smile disappeared from his face, and his thick +dark brows knitted into a frown. He knew no one except the host and +showed every sign of being bored to death, though bravely sustaining +the role of thorough enjoyment to the end. Later I learned that he was +a provincial, had come to the capital on some important, brain-racking +business, had brought a letter of recommendation to our host, and our +host had taken him under his protection, not at all _con amore_. It +was merely out of politeness that he had invited him to the children's +ball. + +They did not play cards with him, they did not offer him cigars. No +one entered into conversation with him. Possibly they recognised the +bird by its feathers from a distance. Thus, my gentleman, not knowing +what to do with his hands, was compelled to spend the evening stroking +his whiskers. His whiskers were really fine, but he stroked them so +assiduously that one got the feeling that the whiskers had come into +the world first and afterwards the man in order to stroke them. + +There was another guest who interested me. But he was of quite a +different order. He was a personage. They called him Julian +Mastakovich. At first glance one could tell he was an honoured guest +and stood in the same relation to the host as the host to the +gentleman of the whiskers. The host and hostess said no end of amiable +things to him, were most attentive, wining him, hovering over him, +bringing guests up to be introduced, but never leading him to any one +else. I noticed tears glisten in our host's eyes when Julian +Mastakovich remarked that he had rarely spent such a pleasant evening. +Somehow I began to feel uncomfortable in this personage's presence. +So, after amusing myself with the children, five of whom, remarkably +well-fed young persons, were our host's, I went into a little +sitting-room, entirely unoccupied, and seated myself at the end that +was a conservatory and took up almost half the room. + +The children were charming. They absolutely refused to resemble their +elders, notwithstanding the efforts of mothers and governesses. In a +jiffy they had denuded the Christmas tree down to the very last sweet +and had already succeeded in breaking half of their playthings before +they even found out which belonged to whom. + +One of them was a particularly handsome little lad, dark-eyed, +curly-haired, who stubbornly persisted in aiming at me with his wooden +gun. But the child that attracted the greatest attention was his +sister, a girl of about eleven, lovely as a Cupid. She was quiet and +thoughtful, with large, full, dreamy eyes. The children had somehow +offended her, and she left them and walked into the same room that I +had withdrawn into. There she seated herself with her doll in a +corner. + +"Her father is an immensely wealthy business man," the guests informed +each other in tones of awe. "Three hundred thousand rubles set aside +for her dowry already." + +As I turned to look at the group from which I heard this news item +issuing, my glance met Julian Mastakovich's. He stood listening to the +insipid chatter in an attitude of concentrated attention, with his +hands behind his back and his head inclined to one side. + +All the while I was quite lost in admiration of the shrewdness our +host displayed in the dispensing of the gifts. The little maid of the +many-rubied dowry received the handsomest doll, and the rest of the +gifts were graded in value according to the diminishing scale of the +parents' stations in life. The last child, a tiny chap of ten, thin, +red-haired, freckled, came into possession of a small book of nature +stories without illustrations or even head and tail pieces. He was the +governess's child. She was a poor widow, and her little boy, clad in a +sorry-looking little nankeen jacket, looked thoroughly crushed and +intimidated. He took the book of nature stories and circled slowly +about the children's toys. He would have given anything to play with +them. But he did not dare to. You could tell he already knew his +place. + +I like to observe children. It is fascinating to watch the +individuality in them struggling for self-assertion. I could see that +the other children's things had tremendous charm for the red-haired +boy, especially a toy theatre, in which he was so anxious to take a +part that he resolved to fawn upon the other children. He smiled and +began to play with them. His one and only apple he handed over to a +puffy urchin whose pockets were already crammed with sweets, and he +even carried another youngster pickaback--all simply that he might be +allowed to stay with the theatre. + +But in a few moments an impudent young person fell on him and gave him +a pummelling. He did not dare even to cry. The governess came and told +him to leave off interfering with the other children's games, and he +crept away to the same room the little girl and I were in. She let him +sit down beside her, and the two set themselves busily dressing the +expensive doll. + +Almost half an hour passed, and I was nearly dozing off, as I sat +there in the conservatory half listening to the chatter of the +red-haired boy and the dowered beauty, when Julian Mastakovich entered +suddenly. He had slipped out of the drawing-room under cover of a +noisy scene among the children. From my secluded corner it had not +escaped my notice that a few moments before he had been eagerly +conversing with the rich girl's father, to whom he had only just been +introduced. + +He stood still for a while reflecting and mumbling to himself, as if +counting something on his fingers. + +"Three hundred--three hundred--eleven--twelve--thirteen--sixteen--in +five years! Let's say four per cent--five times twelve--sixty, and on +these sixty----. Let us assume that in five years it will amount +to--well, four hundred. Hm--hm! But the shrewd old fox isn't likely to +be satisfied with four per cent. He gets eight or even ten, perhaps. +Let's suppose five hundred, five hundred thousand, at least, that's +sure. Anything above that for pocket money--hm--" + +He blew his nose and was about to leave the room when he spied the +girl and stood still. I, behind the plants, escaped his notice. He +seemed to me to be quivering with excitement. It must have been his +calculations that upset him so. He rubbed his hands and danced from +place to place, and kept getting more and more excited. Finally, +however, he conquered his emotions and came to a standstill. He cast a +determined look at the future bride and wanted to move toward her, but +glanced about first. Then, as if with a guilty conscience, he stepped +over to the child on tip-toe, smiling, and bent down and kissed her +head. + +His coming was so unexpected that she uttered a shriek of alarm. + +"What are you doing here, dear child?" he whispered, looking around +and pinching her cheek. + +"We're playing." + +"What, with him?" said Julian Mastakovich with a look askance at the +governess's child. "You should go into the drawing-room, my lad," he +said to him. + +The boy remained silent and looked up at the man with wide-open eyes. +Julian Mastakovich glanced round again cautiously and bent down over +the girl. + +"What have you got, a doll, my dear?" + +"Yes, sir." The child quailed a little, and her brow wrinkled. + +"A doll? And do you know, my dear, what dolls are made of?" + +"No, sir," she said weakly, and lowered her head. + +"Out of rags, my dear. You, boy, you go back to the drawing-room, to +the children," said Julian Mastakovich looking at the boy sternly. + +The two children frowned. They caught hold of each other and would not +part. + +"And do you know why they gave you the doll?" asked Julian +Mastakovich, dropping his voice lower and lower. + +"No." + +"Because you were a good, very good little girl the whole week." + +Saying which, Julian Mastakovich was seized with a paroxysm of +agitation. He looked round and said in a tone faint, almost inaudible +with excitement and impatience: + +"If I come to visit your parents will you love me, my dear?" + +He tried to kiss the sweet little creature, but the red-haired boy saw +that she was on the verge of tears, and he caught her hand and sobbed +out loud in sympathy. That enraged the man. + +"Go away! Go away! Go back to the other room, to your playmates." + +"I don't want him to. I don't want him to! You go away!" cried the +girl. "Let him alone! Let him alone!" She was almost weeping. + +There was a sound of footsteps in the doorway. Julian Mastakovich +started and straightened up his respectable body. The red-haired boy +was even more alarmed. He let go the girl's hand, sidled along the +wall, and escaped through the drawing-room into the dining-room. + +Not to attract attention, Julian Mastakovich also made for the +dining-room. He was red as a lobster. The sight of himself in a mirror +seemed to embarrass him. Presumably he was annoyed at his own ardour +and impatience. Without due respect to his importance and dignity, his +calculations had lured and pricked him to the greedy eagerness of a +boy, who makes straight for his object--though this was not as yet an +object; it only would be so in five years' time. I followed the worthy +man into the dining-room, where I witnessed a remarkable play. + +Julian Mastakovich, all flushed with vexation, venom in his look, +began to threaten the red-haired boy. The red-haired boy retreated +farther and farther until there was no place left for him to retreat +to, and he did not know where to turn in his fright. + +"Get out of here! What are you doing here? Get out, I say, you +good-for-nothing! Stealing fruit, are you? Oh, so, stealing fruit! Get +out, you freckle face, go to your likes!" + +The frightened child, as a last desperate resort, crawled quickly +under the table. His persecutor, completely infuriated, pulled out his +large linen handkerchief and used it as a lash to drive the boy out of +his position. + +Here I must remark that Julian Mastakovich was a somewhat corpulent +man, heavy, well-fed, puffy-cheeked, with a paunch and ankles as round +as nuts. He perspired and puffed and panted. So strong was his dislike +(or was it jealousy?) of the child that he actually began to carry on +like a madman. + +I laughed heartily. Julian Mastakovich turned. He was utterly confused +and for a moment, apparently, quite oblivious of his immense +importance. At that moment our host appeared in the doorway opposite. +The boy crawled out from under the table and wiped his knees and +elbows. Julian Mastakovich hastened to carry his handkerchief, which +he had been dangling by the corner, to his nose. Our host looked at +the three of us rather suspiciously. But, like a man who knows the +world and can readily adjust himself, he seized upon the opportunity +to lay hold of his very valuable guest and get what he wanted out of +him. + +"Here's the boy I was talking to you about," he said, indicating the +red-haired child. "I took the liberty of presuming on your goodness in +his behalf." + +"Oh," replied Julian Mastakovich, still not quite master of himself. + +"He's my governess's son," our host continued in a beseeching tone. +"She's a poor creature, the widow of an honest official. That's why, +if it were possible for you--" + +"Impossible, impossible!" Julian Mastakovich cried hastily. "You must +excuse me, Philip Alexeyevich, I really cannot. I've made inquiries. +There are no vacancies, and there is a waiting list of ten who have a +greater right--I'm sorry." + +"Too bad," said our host. "He's a quiet, unobtrusive child." + +"A very naughty little rascal, I should say," said Julian Mastakovich, +wryly. "Go away, boy. Why are you here still? Be off with you to the +other children." + +Unable to control himself, he gave me a sidelong glance. Nor could I +control myself. I laughed straight in his face. He turned away and +asked our host, in tones quite audible to me, who that odd young +fellow was. They whispered to each other and left the room, +disregarding me. + +I shook with laughter. Then I, too, went to the drawing-room. There +the great man, already surrounded by the fathers and mothers and the +host and the hostess, had begun to talk eagerly with a lady to whom he +had just been introduced. The lady held the rich little girl's hand. +Julian Mastakovich went into fulsome praise of her. He waxed ecstatic +over the dear child's beauty, her talents, her grace, her excellent +breeding, plainly laying himself out to flatter the mother, who +listened scarcely able to restrain tears of joy, while the father +showed his delight by a gratified smile. + +The joy was contagious. Everybody shared in it. Even the children were +obliged to stop playing so as not to disturb the conversation. The +atmosphere was surcharged with awe. I heard the mother of the +important little girl, touched to her profoundest depths, ask Julian +Mastakovich in the choicest language of courtesy, whether he would +honour them by coming to see them. I heard Julian Mastakovich accept +the invitation with unfeigned enthusiasm. Then the guests scattered +decorously to different parts of the room, and I heard them, with +veneration in their tones, extol the business man, the business man's +wife, the business man's daughter, and, especially, Julian +Mastakovich. + +"Is he married?" I asked out loud of an acquaintance of mine standing +beside Julian Mastakovich. + +Julian Mastakovich gave me a venomous look. + +"No," answered my acquaintance, profoundly shocked by +my--intentional--indiscretion. + + * * * * * + +Not long ago I passed the Church of----. I was struck by the concourse +of people gathered there to witness a wedding. It was a dreary day. A +drizzling rain was beginning to come down. I made my way through the +throng into the church. The bridegroom was a round, well-fed, +pot-bellied little man, very much dressed up. He ran and fussed about +and gave orders and arranged things. Finally word was passed that the +bride was coming. I pushed through the crowd, and I beheld a +marvellous beauty whose first spring was scarcely commencing. But the +beauty was pale and sad. She looked distracted. It seemed to me even +that her eyes were red from recent weeping. The classic severity of +every line of her face imparted a peculiar significance and solemnity +to her beauty. But through that severity and solemnity, through the +sadness, shone the innocence of a child. There was something +inexpressibly naive, unsettled and young in her features, which, +without words, seemed to plead for mercy. + +They said she was just sixteen years old. I looked at the bridegroom +carefully. Suddenly I recognised Julian Mastakovich, whom I had not +seen again in all those five years. Then I looked at the bride +again.--Good God! I made my way, as quickly as I could, out of the +church. I heard gossiping in the crowd about the bride's wealth--about +her dowry of five hundred thousand rubles--so and so much for pocket +money. + +"Then his calculations were correct," I thought, as I pressed out into +the street. + + + + +GOD SEES THE TRUTH, BUT WAITS + + + +BY LEO N. TOLSTOY + + +In the town of Vladimir lived a young merchant named Ivan Dmitrich +Aksionov. He had two shops and a house of his own. + +Aksionov was a handsome, fair-haired, curly-headed fellow, full of +fun, and very fond of singing. When quite a young man he had been +given to drink, and was riotous when he had had too much; but after he +married he gave up drinking, except now and then. + +One summer Aksionov was going to the Nizhny Fair, and as he bade +good-bye to his family, his wife said to him, "Ivan Dmitrich, do not +start to-day; I have had a bad dream about you." + +Aksionov laughed, and said, "You are afraid that when I get to the +fair I shall go on a spree." + +His wife replied: "I do not know what I am afraid of; all I know is +that I had a bad dream. I dreamt you returned from the town, and when +you took off your cap I saw that your hair was quite grey." + +Aksionov laughed. "That's a lucky sign," said he. "See if I don't sell +out all my goods, and bring you some presents from the fair." + +So he said good-bye to his family, and drove away. + +When he had travelled half-way, he met a merchant whom he knew, and +they put up at the same inn for the night. They had some tea together, +and then went to bed in adjoining rooms. + +It was not Aksionov's habit to sleep late, and, wishing to travel +while it was still cool, he aroused his driver before dawn, and told +him to put in the horses. + +Then he made his way across to the landlord of the inn (who lived in a +cottage at the back), paid his bill, and continued his journey. + +When he had gone about twenty-five miles, he stopped for the horses to +be fed. Aksionov rested awhile in the passage of the inn, then he +stepped out into the porch, and, ordering a samovar to be heated, got +out his guitar and began to play. + +Suddenly a troika drove up with tinkling bells and an official +alighted, followed by two soldiers. He came to Aksionov and began to +question him, asking him who he was and whence he came. Aksionov +answered him fully, and said, "Won't you have some tea with me?" But +the official went on cross-questioning him and asking him. "Where did +you spend last night? Were you alone, or with a fellow-merchant? Did +you see the other merchant this morning? Why did you leave the inn +before dawn?" + +Aksionov wondered why he was asked all these questions, but he +described all that had happened, and then added, "Why do you +cross-question me as if I were a thief or a robber? I am travelling on +business of my own, and there is no need to question me." + +Then the official, calling the soldiers, said, "I am the +police-officer of this district, and I question you because the +merchant with whom you spent last night has been found with his throat +cut. We must search your things." + +They entered the house. The soldiers and the police-officer unstrapped +Aksionov's luggage and searched it. Suddenly the officer drew a knife +out of a bag, crying, "Whose knife is this?" + +Aksionov looked, and seeing a blood-stained knife taken from his bag, +he was frightened. + +"How is it there is blood on this knife?" + +Aksionov tried to answer, but could hardly utter a word, and only +stammered: "I--don't know--not mine." Then the police-officer said: +"This morning the merchant was found in bed with his throat cut. You +are the only person who could have done it. The house was locked from +inside, and no one else was there. Here is this blood-stained knife in +your bag and your face and manner betray you! Tell me how you killed +him, and how much money you stole?" + +Aksionov swore he had not done it; that he had not seen the merchant +after they had had tea together; that he had no money except eight +thousand rubles of his own, and that the knife was not his. But his +voice was broken, his face pale, and he trembled with fear as though +he went guilty. + +The police-officer ordered the soldiers to bind Aksionov and to put +him in the cart. As they tied his feet together and flung him into the +cart, Aksionov crossed himself and wept. His money and goods were +taken from him, and he was sent to the nearest town and imprisoned +there. Enquiries as to his character were made in Vladimir. The +merchants and other inhabitants of that town said that in former days +he used to drink and waste his time, but that he was a good man. Then +the trial came on: he was charged with murdering a merchant from +Ryazan, and robbing him of twenty thousand rubles. + +His wife was in despair, and did not know what to believe. Her +children were all quite small; one was a baby at her breast. Taking +them all with her, she went to the town where her husband was in jail. +At first she was not allowed to see him; but after much begging, she +obtained permission from the officials, and was taken to him. When she +saw her husband in prison-dress and in chains, shut up with thieves +and criminals, she fell down, and did not come to her senses for a +long time. Then she drew her children to her, and sat down near him. +She told him of things at home, and asked about what had happened to +him. He told her all, and she asked, "What can we do now?" + +"We must petition the Czar not to let an innocent man perish." + +His wife told him that she had sent a petition to the Czar, but it had +not been accepted. + +Aksionov did not reply, but only looked downcast. + +Then his wife said, "It was not for nothing I dreamt your hair had +turned grey. You remember? You should not have started that day." And +passing her fingers through his hair, she said: "Vanya dearest, tell +your wife the truth; was it not you who did it?" + +"So you, too, suspect me!" said Aksionov, and, hiding his face in his +hands, he began to weep. Then a soldier came to say that the wife and +children must go away; and Aksionov said good-bye to his family for +the last time. + +When they were gone, Aksionov recalled what had been said, and when he +remembered that his wife also had suspected him, he said to himself, +"It seems that only God can know the truth; it is to Him alone we must +appeal, and from Him alone expect mercy." + +And Aksionov wrote no more petitions; gave up all hope, and only +prayed to God. + +Aksionov was condemned to be flogged and sent to the mines. So he was +flogged with a knot, and when the wounds made by the knot were healed, +he was driven to Siberia with other convicts. + +For twenty-six years Aksionov lived as a convict in Siberia. His hair +turned white as snow, and his beard grew long, thin, and grey. All his +mirth went; he stooped; he walked slowly, spoke little, and never +laughed, but he often prayed. + +In prison Aksionov learnt to make boots, and earned a little money, +with which he bought _The Lives of the Saints_. He read this book when +there was light enough in the prison; and on Sundays in the +prison-church he read the lessons and sang in the choir; for his voice +was still good. + +The prison authorities liked Aksionov for his meekness, and his +fellow-prisoners respected him: they called him "Grandfather," and +"The Saint." When they wanted to petition the prison authorities about +anything, they always made Aksionov their spokesman, and when there +were quarrels among the prisoners they came to him to put things +right, and to judge the matter. + +No news reached Aksionov from his home, and he did not even know if +his wife and children were still alive. + +One day a fresh gang of convicts came to the prison. In the evening +the old prisoners collected round the new ones and asked them what +towns or villages they came from, and what they were sentenced for. +Among the rest Aksionov sat down near the newcomers, and listened with +downcast air to what was said. + +One of the new convicts, a tall, strong man of sixty, with a +closely-cropped grey beard, was telling the others what be had been +arrested for. + +"Well, friends," he said, "I only took a horse that was tied to a +sledge, and I was arrested and accused of stealing. I said I had only +taken it to get home quicker, and had then let it go; besides, the +driver was a personal friend of mine. So I said, 'It's all right.' +'No,' said they, 'you stole it.' But how or where I stole it they +could not say. I once really did something wrong, and ought by rights +to have come here long ago, but that time I was not found out. Now I +have been sent here for nothing at all... Eh, but it's lies I'm +telling you; I've been to Siberia before, but I did not stay long." + +"Where are you from?" asked some one. + +"From Vladimir. My family are of that town. My name is Makar, and they +also call me Semyonich." + +Aksionov raised his head and said: "Tell me, Semyonich, do you know +anything of the merchants Aksionov of Vladimir? Are they still alive?" + +"Know them? Of course I do. The Aksionovs are rich, though their +father is in Siberia: a sinner like ourselves, it seems! As for you, +Gran'dad, how did you come here?" + +Aksionov did not like to speak of his misfortune. He only sighed, and +said, "For my sins I have been in prison these twenty-six years." + +"What sins?" asked Makar Semyonich. + +But Aksionov only said, "Well, well--I must have deserved it!" He +would have said no more, but his companions told the newcomers how +Aksionov came to be in Siberia; how some one had killed a merchant, +and had put the knife among Aksionov's things, and Aksionov had been +unjustly condemned. + +When Makar Semyonich heard this, he looked at Aksionov, slapped his +_own_ knee, and exclaimed, "Well, this is wonderful! Really wonderful! +But how old you've grown, Gran'dad!" + +The others asked him why he was so surprised, and where he had seen +Aksionov before; but Makar Semyonich did not reply. He only said: +"It's wonderful that we should meet here, lads!" + +These words made Aksionov wonder whether this man knew who had killed +the merchant; so he said, "Perhaps, Semyonich, you have heard of that +affair, or maybe you've seen me before?" + +"How could I help hearing? The world's full of rumours. But it's a +long time ago, and I've forgotten what I heard." + +"Perhaps you heard who killed the merchant?" asked Aksionov. + +Makar Semyonich laughed, and replied: "It must have been him in whose +bag the knife was found! If some one else hid the knife there, 'He's +not a thief till he's caught,' as the saying is. How could any one put +a knife into your bag while it was under your head? It would surely +have woke you up." + +When Aksionov heard these words, he felt sure this was the man who had +killed the merchant. He rose and went away. All that night Aksionov +lay awake. He felt terribly unhappy, and all sorts of images rose in +his mind. There was the image of his wife as she was when he parted +from her to go to the fair. He saw her as if she were present; her +face and her eyes rose before him; he heard her speak and laugh. Then +he saw his children, quite little, as they: were at that time: one +with a little cloak on, another at his mother's breast. And then he +remembered himself as he used to be-young and merry. He remembered how +he sat playing the guitar in the porch of the inn where he was +arrested, and how free from care he had been. He saw, in his mind, the +place where he was flogged, the executioner, and the people standing +around; the chains, the convicts, all the twenty-six years of his +prison life, and his premature old age. The thought of it all made him +so wretched that he was ready to kill himself. + +"And it's all that villain's doing!" thought Aksionov. And his anger +was so great against Makar Semyonich that he longed for vengeance, +even if he himself should perish for it. He kept repeating prayers all +night, but could get no peace. During the day he did not go near Makar +Semyonich, nor even look at him. + +A fortnight passed in this way. Aksionov could not sleep at night, and +was so miserable that he did not know what to do. + +One night as he was walking about the prison he noticed some earth +that came rolling out from under one of the shelves on which the +prisoners slept. He stopped to see what it was. Suddenly Makar +Semyonich crept out from under the shelf, and looked up at Aksionov +with frightened face. Aksionov tried to pass without looking at him, +but Makar seized his hand and told him that he had dug a hole under +the wall, getting rid of the earth by putting it into his high-boots, +and emptying it out every day on the road when the prisoners were +driven to their work. + +"Just you keep quiet, old man, and you shall get out too. If you blab, +they'll flog the life out of me, but I will kill you first." + +Aksionov trembled with anger as he looked at his enemy. He drew his +hand away, saying, "I have no wish to escape, and you have no need to +kill me; you killed me long ago! As to telling of you--I may do so or +not, as God shall direct." + +Next day, when the convicts were led out to work, the convoy soldiers +noticed that one or other of the prisoners emptied some earth out of +his boots. The prison was searched and the tunnel found. The Governor +came and questioned all the prisoners to find out who had dug the +hole. They all denied any knowledge of it. Those who knew would not +betray Makar Semyonich, knowing he would be flogged almost to death. +At last the Governor turned to Aksionov whom he knew to be a just man, +and said: + +"You are a truthful old man; tell me, before God, who dug the hole?" + +Makar Semyonich stood as if he were quite unconcerned, looking at the +Governor and not so much as glancing at Aksionov. Aksionov's lips and +hands trembled, and for a long time he could not utter a word. He +thought, "Why should I screen him who ruined my life? Let him pay for +what I have suffered. But if I tell, they will probably flog the life +out of him, and maybe I suspect him wrongly. And, after all, what good +would it be to me?" + +"Well, old man," repeated the Governor, "tell me the truth: who has +been digging under the wall?" + +Aksionov glanced at Makar Semyonich, and said, "I cannot say, your +honour. It is not God's will that I should tell! Do what you like with +me; I am your hands." + +However much the Governor! tried, Aksionov would say no more, and so +the matter had to be left. + +That night, when Aksionov was lying on his bed and just beginning to +doze, some one came quietly and sat down on his bed. He peered through +the darkness and recognised Makar. + +"What more do you want of me?" asked Aksionov. "Why have you come +here?" + +Makar Semyonich was silent. So Aksionov sat up and said, "What do you +want? Go away, or I will call the guard!" + +Makar Semyonich bent close over Aksionov, and whispered, "Ivan +Dmitrich, forgive me!" + +"What for?" asked Aksionov. + +"It was I who killed the merchant and hid the knife among your things. +I meant to kill you too, but I heard a noise outside, so I hid the +knife in your bag and escaped out of the window." + +Aksionov was silent, and did not know what to say. Makar Semyonich +slid off the bed-shelf and knelt upon the ground. "Ivan Dmitrich," +said he, "forgive me! For the love of God, forgive me! I will confess +that it was I who killed the merchant, and you will be released and +can go to your home." + +"It is easy for you to talk," said Aksionov, "but I have suffered for +you these twenty-six years. Where could I go to now?... My wife is +dead, and my children have forgotten me. I have nowhere to go..." + +Makar Semyonich did not rise, but beat his head on the floor. "Ivan +Dmitrich, forgive me!" he cried. "When they flogged me with the knot +it was not so hard to bear as it is to see you now ... yet you had +pity on me, and did not tell. For Christ's sake forgive me, wretch +that I am!" And he began to sob. + +When Aksionov heard him sobbing he, too, began to weep. "God will +forgive you!" said he. "Maybe I am a hundred times worse than you." +And at these words his heart grew light, and the longing for home left +him. He no longer had any desire to leave the prison, but only hoped +for his last hour to come. + +In spite of what Aksionov had said, Makar Semyonich confessed, his +guilt. But when the order for his release came, Aksionov was already +dead. + + + + +HOW A MUZHIK FED TWO OFFICIALS + + + +BY M.Y. SALTYKOV [_N.Shchedrin_] + + +Once upon a time there were two Officials. They were both +empty-headed, and so they found themselves one day suddenly +transported to an uninhabited isle, as if on a magic carpet. + +They had passed their whole life in a Government Department, where +records were kept; had been born there, bred there, grown old there, +and consequently hadn't the least understanding for anything outside +of the Department; and the only words they knew were: "With assurances +of the highest esteem, I am your humble servant." + +But the Department was abolished, and as the services of the two +Officials were no longer needed, they were given their freedom. So the +retired Officials migrated to Podyacheskaya Street in St. Petersburg. +Each had his own home, his own cook and his pension. + +Waking up on the uninhabited isle, they found themselves lying under +the same cover. At first, of course, they couldn't understand what had +happened to them, and they spoke as if nothing extraordinary had taken +place. + +"What a peculiar dream I had last night, your Excellency," said the +one Official. "It seemed to me as if I were on an uninhabited isle." + +Scarcely had he uttered the words, when he jumped to his feet. The +other Official also jumped up. + +"Good Lord, what does this mean! Where are we?" they cried out in +astonishment. + +They felt each other to make sure that they were no longer dreaming, +and finally convinced themselves of the sad reality. + +Before them stretched the ocean, and behind them was a little spot of +earth, beyond which the ocean stretched again. They began to cry--the +first time since their Department had been shut down. + +They looked at each other, and each noticed that the other was clad in +nothing but his night shirt with his order hanging about his neck. + +"We really should be having our coffee now," observed the one +Official. Then he bethought himself again of the strange situation he +was in and a second time fell to weeping. + +"What are we going to do now?" he sobbed. "Even supposing we were to +draw up a report, what good would that do?" + +"You know what, your Excellency," replied the other Official, "you go +to the east and I will go to the west. Toward evening we will come +back here again and, perhaps, we shall have found something." + +They started to ascertain which was the east and which was the west. +They recalled that the head of their Department had once said to them, +"If you want to know where the east is, then turn your face to the +north, and the east will be on your right." But when they tried to +find out which was the north, they turned to the right and to the left +and looked around on all sides. Having spent their whole life in the +Department of Records, their efforts were all in vain. + +"To my mind, your Excellency, the best thing to do would be for you to +go to the right and me to go to the left," said one Official, who had +served not only in the Department of Records, but had also been +teacher of handwriting in the School for Reserves, and so was a little +bit cleverer. + +So said, so done. The one Official went to the right. He came upon +trees, bearing all sorts of fruits. Gladly would he have plucked an +apple, but they all hung so high that he would have been obliged to +climb up. He tried to climb up in vain. All he succeeded in doing was +tearing his night shirt. Then he struck upon a brook. It was swarming +with fish. + +"Wouldn't it be wonderful if we had all this fish in Podyacheskaya +Street!" he thought, and his mouth watered. Then he entered woods and +found partridges, grouse and hares. + +"Good Lord, what an abundance of food!" he cried. His hunger was going +up tremendously. + +But he had to return to the appointed spot with empty hands. He found +the other Official waiting for him. + +"Well, Your Excellency, how went it? Did you find anything?" + +"Nothing but an old number of the _Moscow Gazette_, not another +thing." + +The Officials lay down to sleep again, but their empty stomachs gave +them no rest They were partly robbed of their sleep by the thought of +who was now enjoying their pension, and partly by the recollection of +the fruit, fishes, partridges, grouse and hares that they had seen +during the day. + +"The human pabulum in its original form flies, swims and grows on +trees. Who would have thought it your Excellency?" said the one +Official. + +"To be sure," rejoined the other Official. "I, too, must admit that I +had imagined that our breakfast rolls, came into the world just as +they appear on the table." + +"From which it is to be deduced that if we want to eat a pheasant, we +must catch it first, kill it, pull its feathers and roast it. But +how's that to be done?" + +"Yes, how's that to be done?" repeated the other Official. + +They turned silent and tried again to fall asleep, but their hunger +scared sleep away. Before their eyes swarmed flocks of pheasants and +ducks, herds of porklings, and they were all so juicy, done so +tenderly and garnished so deliciously with olives, capers and pickles. + +"I believe I could devour my own boots now," said the one Official. + +"Gloves, are not bad either, especially if they have been born quite +mellow," said the other Official. + +The two Officials stared at each other fixedly. In their glances +gleamed an evil-boding fire, their teeth chattered and a dull groaning +issued from their breasts. Slowly they crept upon each other and +suddenly they burst into a fearful frenzy. There was a yelling and +groaning, the rags flew about, and the Official who had been teacher +of handwriting bit off his colleague's order and swallowed it. +However, the sight of blood brought them both back to their senses. + +"God help us!" they cried at the same time. "We certainly don't mean +to eat each other up. How could we have come to such a pass as this? +What evil genius is making sport of us?" + +"We must, by all means, entertain each other to pass the time away, +otherwise there will be murder and death," said the, one Official. + +"You begin," said the other. + +"Can you explain why it is that the sun first rises and then sets? Why +isn't it the reverse?" + +"Aren't you a funny, man, your Excellency? You get up first, then you +go to your office and work there, and at night you lie down to sleep." + +"But why can't one assume the opposite, that is, that one goes to, +bed, sees all sorts of dream figures, and then gets up?" + +"Well, yes, certainly. But when I was still an Official, I always +thought this way: 'Now it is; dawn, then it will be day, then will +come supper, and finally will come the time to go to bed.'" + +The word "supper" recalled that incident in the day's doings, and the +thought of it made both Officials melancholy, so that the conversation +came to a halt. + +"A doctor once told me that human beings can sustain themselves for a +long time on their own juices," the one Official began again. + +"What does that mean?" + +"It is quite simple. You see, one's own juices generate other juices, +and these in their turn still other juices, and so it goes on until +finally all the juices are consumed." + +"And then what happens?" + +"Then food has to be taken into the system again." + +"The devil!" + +No matter what topic the Officials chose, the conversation invariably +reverted to the subject of eating; which only increased their appetite +more and more. So they decided to give up talking altogether, and, +recollecting the _Moscow Gazette_ that the one of them had found, they +picked it up and began to read eagerly. + + +BANQUET GIVEN BY THE MAYOR + +"The table was set for one hundred persons. The magnificence of it +exceeded all expectations. The remotest provinces were represented at +this feast of the gods by the costliest gifts. The golden sturgeon +from Sheksna and the silver pheasant from the Caucasian woods held a +rendezvous with strawberries so seldom to be had in our latitude in +winter..." + +"The devil! For God's sake, stop reading, your Excellency. Couldn't +you find something else to read about?" cried the other Official in +sheer desperation. He snatched the paper from his colleague's hands, +and started to read something else. + +"Our correspondent in Tula informs us that yesterday a sturgeon was +found in the Upa (an event which even the oldest inhabitants cannot +recall, and all the more remarkable since they recognised the former +police captain in this sturgeon). This was made the occasion for +giving a banquet in the club. The prime cause of the banquet was +served in a large wooden platter garnished with vinegar pickles. A +bunch of parsley stuck out of its mouth. Doctor P---- who acted as +toast-master saw to it that everybody present got a piece of the +sturgeon. The sauces to go with it were unusually varied and +delicate--" + +"Permit me, your Excellency, it seems to me you are not so careful +either in the selection of reading matter," interrupted the first +Official, who secured the _Gazette_ again and started to read: + +"One of the oldest inhabitants of Viatka has discovered a new and +highly original recipe for fish soup; A live codfish (_lota vulgaris_) +is taken and beaten with a rod until its liver swells up with +anger..." + +The Officials' heads drooped. Whatever their eyes fell upon had +something to do with eating. Even their own thoughts were fatal. No +matter how much they tried to keep their minds off beefsteak and the +like, it was all in vain; their fancy returned invariably, with +irresistible force, back to that for which they were so painfully +yearning. + +Suddenly an inspiration came to the Official who had once taught +handwriting. + +"I have it!" he cried delightedly. "What do you say to this, your +Excellency? What do you say to our finding a muzhik?" + +"A muzhik, your Excellency? What sort of a muzhik?" + +"Why a plain ordinary muzhik. A muzhik like all other muzhiks. He +would get the breakfast rolls for us right away, and he could also +catch partridges and fish for us." + +"Hm, a muzhik. But where are we to fetch one from, if there is no +muzhik here?" + +"Why shouldn't there be a muzhik here? There are muzhiks everywhere. +All one has to do is hunt for them. There certainly must be a muzhik +hiding here somewhere so as to get out of working." + +This thought so cheered the Officials that they instantly jumped up to +go in search of a muzhik. + +For a long while they wandered about on the island without the desired +result, until finally a concentrated smell of black bread and old +sheep skin assailed their nostrils and guided them in the right +direction. There under a tree was a colossal muzhik lying fast asleep +with his hands under his head. It was clear that to escape his duty to +work he had impudently withdrawn to this island. The indignation of +the Officials knew no bounds. + +"What, lying asleep here you lazy-bones you!" they raged at him, "It +is nothing to you that there are two Officials here who are fairly +perishing of hunger. Up, forward, march, work." + +The Muzhik rose and looked at the two severe gentlemen standing in +front of him. His first thought was to make his escape, but the +Officials held him fast. + +He had to submit to his fate. He had to work. + +First he climbed up on a tree and plucked several dozen of the finest +apples for the Officials. He kept a rotten one for himself. Then he +turned up the earth and dug out some potatoes. Next he started a fire +with two bits of wood that he rubbed against each other. Out of his +own hair he made a snare and caught partridges. Over the fire, by this +time burning brightly, he cooked so many kinds of food that the +question arose in the Officials' minds whether they shouldn't give +some to this idler. + +Beholding the efforts of the Muzhik, they rejoiced in their hearts. +They had already forgotten how the day before they had nearly been +perishing of hunger, and all they thought of now was: "What a good +thing it is to be an Official. Nothing bad can ever happen to an +Official." + +"Are you satisfied, gentlemen?" the lazy Muzhik asked. + +"Yes, we appreciate your industry," replied the Officials. + +"Then you will permit me to rest a little?" + +"Go take a little rest, but first make a good strong cord." + +The Muzhik gathered wild hemp stalks, laid them in water, beat them +and broke them, and toward evening a good stout cord was ready. The +Officials took the cord and bound the Muzhik to a tree, so that he +should not run away. Then they laid themselves to sleep. + +Thus day after day passed, and the Muzhik became so skilful that he +could actually cook soup for the Officials in his bare hands. The +Officials had become round and well-fed and happy. It rejoiced them +that here they needn't spend any money and that in the meanwhile their +pensions were accumulating in St. Petersburg. + +"What is your opinion, your Excellency," one said to the other after +breakfast one day, "is the Story of the Tower of Babel true? Don't you +think it is simply an allegory?" + +"By no means, your Excellency, I think it was something that really +happened. What other explanation is there for the existence of so many +different languages on earth?" + +"Then the Flood must really have taken place, too?" + +"Certainly, else; how would you explain the existence of Antediluvian +animals? Besides, the _Moscow Gazette_ says----" + +They made search for the old number of the _Moscow Gazette_, seated +themselves in the shade, and read the whole sheet from beginning to +end. They read of festivities in Moscow, Tula, Penza and Riazan, and +strangely enough felt no discomfort at the description of the +delicacies served. + +There is no saying how long this life might have lasted. Finally, +however, it began to bore the Officials. They often thought of their +cooks in St. Petersburg, and even shed a few tears in secret. + +"I wonder how it looks in Podyacheskaya Street now, your Excellency," +one of them said to the other. + +"Oh, don't remind me of it, your Excellency. I am pining away with +homesickness." + +"It is very nice here. There is really no fault to be found with this +place, but the lamb longs for its mother sheep. And it is a pity, too, +for the beautiful uniforms." + +"Yes, indeed, a uniform of the fourth class is no joke. The gold +embroidery alone is enough to make one dizzy." + +Now they began to importune the Muzhik to find some way of getting +them back to Podyacheskaya Street, and strange to say, the Muzhik even +knew where Podyacheskaya Street was. He had once drunk beer and mead +there, and as the saying goes, everything had run down his beard, +alas, but nothing into his mouth. The Officials rejoiced and said: "We +are Officials from Podyacheskaya Street." + +"And I am one of those men--do you remember?--who sit on a scaffolding +hung by ropes from the roofs and paint the outside walls. I am one of +those who crawl about on the roofs like flies. That is what I am," +replied the Muzhik. + +The Muzhik now pondered long and heavily on how to give great pleasure +to his Officials, who had been so gracious to him, the lazy-bones, and +had not scorned his work. And he actually succeeded in constructing a +ship. It was not really a ship, but still it was a vessel, that would +carry them across the ocean close to Podyacheskaya Street. + +"Now, take care, you dog, that you don't drown us," said the +Officials, when they saw the raft rising and falling on the waves. + +"Don't be afraid. We muzhiks are used to this," said the Muzhik, +making all the preparations for the journey. He gathered swan's-down +and made a couch for his two Officials, then he crossed himself and +rowed off from shore. + +How frightened the Officials were on the way, how seasick they were +during the storms, how they scolded the coarse Muzhik for his +idleness, can neither be told nor described. The Muzhik, however, just +kept rowing on and fed his Officials on herring. At last, they caught +sight of dear old Mother Neva. Soon they were in the glorious +Catherine Canal, and then, oh joy! they struck the grand Podyacheskaya +Street. When the cooks saw their Officials so well-fed, round and so +happy, they rejoiced immensely. The Officials drank coffee and rolls, +then put on their uniforms and drove to the Pension Bureau. How much +money they collected there is another thing that can neither be told +nor described. Nor was the Muzhik forgotten. The Officials sent a +glass of whiskey out to him and five kopeks. Now, Muzhik, rejoice. + + + + +THE SHADES, A PHANTASY + + + +BY VLADIMIR G. KORLENKO + + +I + +A month and two days had elapsed since the judges, amid the loud +acclaim of the Athenian people, had pronounced the death sentence +against the philosopher Socrates because he had sought to destroy +faith in the gods. What the gadfly is to the horse Socrates was to +Athens. The gadfly stings the horse in order to prevent it from dozing +off and to keep it moving briskly on its course. The philosopher said +to the people of Athens: + +"I am your gadfly. My sting pricks your conscience and arouses you +when you are caught napping. Sleep not, sleep not, people of Athens; +awake and seek the truth!" + +The people arose in their exasperation and cruelly demanded to be rid +of their gadfly. + +"Perchance both of his accusers, Meletus and Anytus, are wrong," said +the citizens, on leaving the court after sentence had been pronounced. + +"But after all whither do his doctrines tend? What would he do? He has +wrought confusion, he overthrows, beliefs that have existed since the +beginning, he speaks of new virtues which must be recognised and +sought for, he speaks of a Divinity hitherto unknown to us. The +blasphemer, he deems himself wiser than the gods! No, 'twere better we +remain true to the old gods whom we know. They may not always be just, +sometimes they may flare up in unjust wrath, and they may also be +seized with a wanton lust for the wives of mortals; but did not our +ancestors live with them in the peace of their souls, did not our +forefathers accomplish their heroic deeds with the help of these very +gods? And now the faces of the Olympians have paled and the old virtue +is out of joint. What does it all lead to? Should not an end be put to +this impious wisdom once for all?" + +Thus the citizens of Athens spoke to one another as they left the +place, and the blue twilight was falling. They had determined to kill +the restless gadfly in the hope that the countenances of the gods +would shine again. And yet--before their souls arose the mild figure +of the singular philosopher. There were some citizens who recalled how +courageously he had shared their troubles and dangers at Potidaea; how +he alone had prevented them from committing the sin of unjustly +executing the generals after the victory over the Arginusaee; how he +alone had dared to raise his voice against the tyrants who had had +fifteen hundred people put to death, speaking to the people on the +market-place concerning shepherds and their sheep. + +"Is not he a good shepherd," he asked, "who guards his flock and +watches over its increase? Or is it the work of the good shepherd to +reduce the number of his sheep and disperse them, and of the good +ruler to do the same with his people? Men of Athens, let us +investigate this question!" + +And at this question of the solitary, undefended philosopher, the +faces of the tyrants paled, while the eyes of the youths kindled with +the fire of just wrath and indignation. + +Thus, when on dispersing after the sentence the Athenians recalled all +these things of Socrates, their hearts were oppressed with heavy +doubt. + +"Have we not done a cruel wrong to the son of Sophroniscus?" + +But then the good Athenians looked upon the harbour and the sea, and +in the red glow of the dying day they saw the purple sails of the +sharp-keeled ship, sent to the Delian festival, shimmering in the +distance on the blue Pontus. The ship would not return until the +expiration of a month, and the Athenians recollected that during this +time no blood might be shed in Athens, whether the blood of the +innocent or the guilty. A month, moreover, has many days and still +more hours. Supposing the son of Sophroniscus had been unjustly +condemned, who would hinder his escaping from the prison, especially +since he had numerous friends to help him? Was it so difficult for the +rich Plato, for AEschines and others to bribe the guards? Then the +restless gadfly would flee from Athens to the barbarians in Thessaly, +or to the Peloponnesus, or, still farther, to Egypt; Athens would no +longer hear his blasphemous speeches; his death would not weigh upon +the conscience of the worthy citizens, and so everything would end for +the best of all. + +Thus said many to themselves that evening, while aloud they praised +the wisdom of the demos and the heliasts. In secret, however, they +cherished the hope that the restless philosopher would leave Athens, +fly from the hemlock to the barbarians, and so free the Athenians of +his troublesome presence and of the pangs of consciences that smote +them for inflicting death upon an innocent man. + +Two and thirty times since that evening had the sun risen from the +ocean and dipped down into it again. The ship had returned from Delos +and lay in the harbour with sadly drooping sails, as if ashamed of its +native city. The moon did not shine in the heavens, the sea heaved +under a heavy fog, and, on the, hills lights peered through the +obscurity like the eyes of men gripped by a sense of guilt. + +The stubborn Socrates did, not spare the conscience of the good +Athenians. + +"We part! You go home and I go to death," he said, to the judges after +the sentence had been pronounced. "I know not, my friends, which of us +chooses the better lot!" + +As the time had approached for the return of the ship, many of the +citizens had begun to feel uneasy. Must that obstinate fellow really +die? And they began to appeal to the consciences of AEschines, Phaedo, +and other pupils of Socrates, trying to urge them on to further +efforts for their master. + +"Will you permit your teacher to die?" they asked reproachfully in +biting tones. "Or do you grudge the few coins it would take to bribe +the guard?" + +In vain Crito besought Socrates to take to flight, and complained that +the public, was upbraiding his disciples with lack of friendship and +with avarice. The self-willed philosopher refused to gratify his +pupils or the good people of Athens. + +"Let us investigate." he said. "If it turns out that I must flee, I +will flee; but if I must die, I will die. Let us remember what we once +said--the wise man need not fear death, he need fear nothing but +falsehood. Is it right to abide by the laws we ourselves have made so +long as they are agreeable to us, and refuse to obey those which are +disagreeable? If my memory does not deceive me I believe we once spoke +of these things, did we not?" + +"Yes, we did," answered his pupil. + +"And I think all were agreed as to the answer?" + +"Yes." + +"But perhaps what is true for others is not true for us?" + +"No, truth is alike for all, including ourselves." + +"But perhaps when _we_ must die and not some one else, truth becomes +untruth?" + +"No, Socrates, truth remains the truth under all circumstances." + +After his pupil had thus agreed to each premise of Socrates in turn, +he smiled and drew his conclusion. + +"If that is so, my friend, mustn't I die? Or has my head already +become so weak that I am no longer in a condition to draw a logical +conclusion? Then correct me, my friend and show my erring brain the +right way." + +His pupil covered, his face with his mantle and turned aside. + +"Yes," he said, "now I see you must die." + +And on that evening when the sea tossed hither, and thither and roared +dully under the load of fog, and the whimsical wind in mournful +astonishment gently stirred the sails of the ships; when the citizens +meeting on the streets asked, one another: "Is, he dead?" and their +voices timidly betrayed the hope that he was not dead; when the first +breath of awakened conscience, touched the hearts of the Athenians +like the first messenger of the storm; and when, it seemed the very +faces of the gods were darkened with shame--on that evening at the +sinking of the sun the self-willed man drank the cup of death! + +The wind increased in violence and shrouded the city more closely in +the veil of mist, angrily tugging at the sails of the vessels delayed +in the harbour. And the Erinyes sang their gloomy songs to the hearts +of the citizens and whipped up in their breasts that tempest which was +later, to overwhelm the denouncers of Socrates. + +But in that hour the first stirrings of regret were still uncertain +and confused. The citizens found more fault with Socrates than ever +because he had not given them the satisfaction of fleeing to Thessaly; +they were annoyed with his pupils because in the last days they had +walked about in sombre mourning attire, a living reproach to the +Athenians; they were vexed with the judges because they had not had +the sense and the courage to resist the blind rage of the excited +people; they bore even the gods resentment. + +"To you, ye gods, have we brought this sacrifice," spoke many. +"Rejoice, ye unsatiable!" + +"I know not which of us chooses the better lot!" + +Those words of Socrates came back to their memory, those his last +words to the judges and to the people gathered in the court. Now he +lay in the prison quiet and motionless under his cloak, while over the +city hovered mourning, horror, and shame. + +Again he became the tormentor of the city, he who was himself no +longer accessible to torment. The gadfly had been killed, but it stung +the people more sharply than ever--sleep not, sleep not this night, O +men of Athens! Sleep not! You have committed an injustice, a cruel +injustice, which can never be erased! + + + +II + + +During those sad days Xenophon, the general, a pupil of Socrates, was +marching with his Ten Thousand in a distant land, amid dangers, +seeking a way of return to his beloved fatherland. + +AEschines, Crito, Critobulus, Phaedo, and Apollodorus were now occupied +with the preparations for the modest funeral. + +Plato was burning his lamp and bending over a parchment; the best +disciple of the philosopher was busy inscribing the deeds, words, and +teachings that marked the end of the sage's life. A thought is never +lost, and the truth discovered by a great intellect illumines the way +for future generations like a torch in the dark. + +There was one other disciple of Socrates. Not long before, the +impetuous Ctesippus had been one of the most frivolous and +pleasure-seeking of the Athenian youths. He had set up beauty as his +sole god, and had bowed before Clinias as its highest exemplar. But +since he had become acquainted with Socrates, all desire for pleasure +and all light-mindedness had gone from him. He looked on indifferently +while others took his place with Clinias. The grace of thought and the +harmony of spirit that he found in Socrates seemed a hundred times +more attractive than the graceful form and the harmonious features of +Clinias. With all the intensity of his stormy temperament he hung on +the man who had disturbed the serenity of his virginal soul, which for +the first time opened to doubts as the bud of a young oak opens to the +fresh winds of spring. + +Now that the master was dead, he could find peace neither at his own +hearth nor in the oppressive stillness of the streets nor among his +friends and fellow-disciples. The gods of hearth and home and the gods +of the people inspired him with repugnance. + +"I know not," he said, "whether ye are the best of all the gods to +whom numerous generations have burned incense and brought offerings; +all I know is that for your sake the blind mob extinguished the clear +torch of truth, and for your sake sacrificed the greatest and best of +mortals!" + +It almost seemed to Ctesippus as though the streets and market-places +still echoed with the shrieking of that unjust sentence. And he +remembered how it was here that the people clamoured for the execution +of the generals who had led them to victory against the Argunisae, and +how Socrates alone had opposed the savage sentence of the judges and +the blind rage of the mob. But when Socrates himself needed a +champion, no one had been found to defend him with equal strength. +Ctesippus blamed himself and his friends, and for that reason he +wanted to avoid everybody--even himself, if possible. + +That evening he went to the sea. But his grief grew only the more +violent. It seemed to him that the mourning daughters of Nereus were +tossing hither and thither on the shore bewailing the death of the +best of the Athenians and the folly of the frenzied city. The waves +broke on the rocky coast with a growl of lament. Their booming sounded +like a funeral dirge. + +He turned away, left, the shore, and went on further without looking +before him. He forgot time and space and his own ego, filled only with +the afflicting thought of Socrates! + +"Yesterday he still was, yesterday his mild words still could be +heard. How is it possible that to-day he no longer is? O night, O +giant mountain shrouded in mist, O heaving sea moved by your own life, +O restless winds that carry the breath of an immeasurable world on +your wings, O starry vault flecked with flying clouds--take me to you, +disclose to me the mystery of this death, if it is revealed to you! +And if ye know not, then grant my ignorant soul your own lofty +indifference. Remove from me these torturing questions. I no longer +have strength to carry them in my bosom without an answer, without +even the hope of an answer. For who shall answer them, now that the +lips of Socrates are sealed in eternal silence, and eternal darkness +is laid upon his lids?" + +Thus Ctesippus cried out to the sea and the mountains, and to the dark +night, which followed its invariable course, ceaselessly, invisibly, +over the slumbering world. Many hours passed before Ctesippus glanced +up and saw whither his steps had unconsciously led him. A dark horror +seized his soul as he looked about him. + + + +III + + +It seemed as if the unknown gods of eternal night had heard his +impious prayer. Ctesippus looked about, without being able to +recognise the place where he was. The lights of the city had long been +extinguished by the darkness. The roaring of the sea had died away in +the distance; his anxious soul had even lost the recollection of +having heard it. No single sound--no mournful cry of nocturnal bird, +nor whirr of wings, nor rustling of trees, nor murmur of a merry +stream--broke the deep silence. Only the blind will-o'-the-wisps +flickered here and there over rocks, and sheet-lightning, +unaccompanied by any sound, flared up and died down against +crag-peaks. This brief illumination merely emphasised the darkness; +and the dead light disclosed the outlines of dead deserts crossed by +gorges like crawling serpents, and rising into rocky heights in a wild +chaos. + +All the joyous gods that haunt green groves, purling brooks, and +mountain valleys seemed to have fled forever from these deserts. Pan +alone, the great and mysterious Pan, was hiding somewhere nearby in +the chaos of nature, and with mocking glance seemed to be pursuing the +tiny ant that a short time before had blasphemously asked to know the +secret of the world and of death. Dark, senseless horror overwhelmed +the soul of Ctesippus. It is thus that the sea in stormy floodtide +overwhelms a rock on the shore. + +Was it a dream, was it reality, or was it the revelation of the +unknown divinity? Ctesippus felt that in an instant he would step +across the threshold of life, and that his soul would melt into an +ocean of unending, inconceivable horror like a drop of rain in the +waves of the grey sea on a dark and stormy night. But at this moment +he suddenly heard voices that seemed familiar to him, and in the glare +of the sheet-lightning his eyes recognised human figures. + + + +IV + + +On a rocky slope sat a man in deep despair. He had thrown a cloak over +his head and was bowed to the ground. Another figure approached him +softly, cautiously climbing upward and carefully feeling every step. +The first man uncovered his face and exclaimed: + +"Is that you I just now saw, my good Socrates? Is that you passing by +me in this cheerless place? I have already spent many hours here +without knowing when day will relieve the night. I have been waiting +in vain for the dawn." + +"Yes, I am Socrates, my friend, and you, are you not Elpidias who died +three days before me?" + +"Yes, I am Elpidias, formerly the richest tanner in Athens, now the +most miserable of slaves. For the first time I understand the words of +the poet: 'Better to be a slave in this world than a ruler in gloomy +Hades.'" + +"My friend, if it is disagreeable for you where you are, why don't you +move to another spot?" + +"O Socrates, I marvel at you--how dare you wander about in this +cheerless gloom? I--I sit here overcome with grief and bemoan the joys +of a fleeting life." + +"Friend Elpidias, like you, I, too, was plunged in this gloom when the +light of earthly life was removed from my eyes. But an inner voice +told me: 'Tread this new path without hesitation, and I went." + +"But whither do you go, O son of Sophroniscus? Here there is no way, +no path, not even a ray of light; nothing but a chaos of rocks, mist, +and gloom." + +"True. But, my Elpidias, since you are aware of this sad truth, have +you not asked yourself what is the most distressing thing in your +present situation?" + +"Undoubtedly the dismal darkness." + +"Then one should seek for light. Perchance you will find here the +great law--that mortals must in darkness seek the source of life. Do +you not think it is better so to seek than to remain sitting in one +spot? _I_ think it is, therefore I keep walking. Farewell!" + +"Oh, good Socrates, abandon me not! You go with sure steps through the +pathless chaos in Hades. Hold out to me but a fold of your mantle--" + +"If you think it is better for you, too, then follow me, friend +Elpidias." + +And the two shades walked on, while the soul of Ctesippus, released by +sleep from its mortal envelop, flew after them, greedily absorbing the +tones of the clear Socratic speech. + +"Are you here, good Socrates?" the voice of the Athenian again was +heard. "Why are you silent? Converse shortens the way, and I swear, by +Hercules, never did I have to traverse such a horrid way." + +"Put questions, friend Elpidias! The question of one who seeks +knowledge brings forth answers and produces conversation." + +Elpidias maintained silence for a moment, and then, after he had +collected his thoughts, asked: + +"Yes, this is what I wanted to say--tell me, my poor Socrates, did +they at least give you a good burial?" + +"I must confess, friend Elpidias, I cannot satisfy your curiosity." + +"I understand, my poor Socrates, it doesn't help you cut a figure. Now +with me it was so different! Oh, how they buried me, how magnificently +they buried me, my poor fellow-Wanderer! I still think with great +pleasure of those lovely moments after my death. First they washed me +and sprinkled me with well-smelling balsam. Then my faithful Larissa +dressed me in garments of the finest weave. The best mourning-women of +the city tore their hair from their heads because they had been +promised good pay, and in the family vault they placed an amphora--a +crater with beautiful, decorated handles of bronze, and, besides, a +vial.--" + +"Stay, friend Elpidias. I am convinced that: the faithful Larissa +converted her love into several minas. Yet--" + +"Exactly ten minas and four drachmas, not counting the drinks for the +guests. I hardly think that the richest tanner can come before the +souls of his ancestors and boast of such respect on the part of the +living." + +"Friend Elpidias, don't you think that money would have been of more +use to the poor people who are still alive in Athens than to you at +this moment?" + +"Admit, Socrates, you are speaking in envy," responded Elpidias, +pained. "I am sorry for you, unfortunate Socrates, although, between +ourselves, you really deserved your fate. I myself in the family +circle said more than once that an end ought to be put to your impious +doings, because--" + +"Stay, friend, I thought you wanted to draw a conclusion, and I fear +you are straying from the straight path. Tell me, my good friend, +whither does your wavering thought tend?" + +"I wanted to say that in my goodness I am sorry for you. A month ago I +myself spoke against you in the assembly, but truly none of us who +shouted so loud wanted such a great ill to befall you. Believe me, now +I am all the sorrier for you, unhappy philosopher!" + +"I thank you. But tell me, my friend, do you perceive a brightness +before your eyes?" + +"No, on the contrary such darkness lies before me that I must ask +myself whether this is not the misty region of Orcus." + +"This way, therefore, is just as dark for you as for me?" + +"Quite right." + +"If I am not mistaken, you are even holding on to the folds of my +cloak?" + +"Also true." + +"Then we are in the same position? You see your ancestors are not +hastening to rejoice in the tale of your pompous burial. Where is the +difference between us, my good friend?" + +"But, Socrates, have the gods enveloped your reason in such obscurity +that the difference is not clear to you?" + +"Friend, if your situation is clearer to you, then give me your hand +and lead me, for I swear, by the dog, you let me go ahead in this +darkness." + +"Cease your scoffing, Socrates! Do not make sport, and do not compare +yourself, your godless self, with a man who died in his own bed----". + +"Ah, I believe I am beginning to understand you. But tell me, +Elpidias, do you hope ever again to rejoice in your bed?" + +"Oh, I think not." + +"And was there ever a time when you did not sleep in it?" + +"Yes. That was before I bought goods from Agesilaus at half their +value. You see, that Agesilaus is really a deep-dyed rogue----" + +"Ah, never mind about Agesilaus! Perhaps he is getting them back, from +your widow at a quarter their value. Then wasn't I right when I said +that you were in possession of your bed only part of the time?" + +"Yes, you were right." + +"Well, and I, too, was in possession of the bed in which I died part +of the time. Proteus, the good guard of the prison, lent it to me for +a period." + +"Oh, if I had known what you were aiming at with your talk, I wouldn't +have answered your wily questions. By Hercules, such profanation is +unheard of--he compares himself with me! Why, I could put an end to +you with two words, if it came to it----" + +"Say them, Elpidias, without fear. Words can scarcely be more +destructive to me than the hemlock." + +"Well, then, that is just what I wanted to say. You unfortunate man, +you died by the sentence of the court and had to drink hemlock!" + +"But I have known that since the day of my death, even long before. +And you, unfortunate Elpidias, tell me what caused your death?" + +"Oh, with me, it was different, entirely different! You see I got the +dropsy in my abdomen. An expensive physician from Corinth was called +who promised to cure me for two minas, and he was given half that +amount in advance. I am afraid that Larissa in her lack of experience +in such things gave him the other half, too----" + +"Then the physician did not keep his promise?" + +"That's it." + +"And you died from dropsy?" + +"Ah, Socrates, believe me, three times it wanted to, vanquish me, and +finally it quenched the flame of my life!" + +"Then tell me--did death by dropsy give you great pleasure?" + +"Oh, wicked Socrates, don't make sport of me. I told you it wanted to +vanquish me three times. I bellowed like a steer under the knife of +the slaughterer, and begged the Parcae to cut the thread of my life as +quickly as possible." + +"That doesn't surprise me. But from what do you conclude that the +dropsy was pleasanter to you than the hemlock to me? The hemlock made +an end of me in a moment." + +"I see, I fell into your snare again, you crafty sinner! I won't +enrage the gods still more by speaking with you, you destroyer of +sacred customs." + +Both were silent, and quiet reigned. But in a short while Elpidias was +again the first to begin a conversation. + +"Why are you silent, good Socrates?" + +"My friend; didn't you yourself ask for silence?" + +"I am not proud, and I can treat men who are worse than I am +considerately. Don't let us quarrel." + +"I did not quarrel with you, friend Elpidias, and did not wish to say +anything to insult you. I am merely accustomed to get at the truth of +things by comparisons. My situation is not clear to me. You consider +your situation better, and I should be glad to learn why. On the other +hand, it would not hurt you to learn the truth, whatever shape it may +take." + +"Well, no more of this." + +"Tell me, are you afraid? I don't think that the feeling I now have +can be called fear." + +"I am afraid, although I have less cause than you to be at odds with +the gods. But don't you think that the gods, in abandoning us to +ourselves here in this chaos, have cheated us of our hopes?" + +"That depends upon what sort of hopes they were. What did you expect +from the gods, Elpidias?" + +"Well, well, what did I expect from the gods! What curious questions +you ask, Socrates! If a man throughout life brings offerings, and at +his death passes away with a pious heart and with all that custom +demands, the gods might at least send some one to meet him, at least +one of the inferior gods, to show a man the way. ... But that reminds +me. Many a time when I begged for good luck in traffic in hides, I +promised Hermes calves----" + +"And you didn't have luck?" + +"Oh, yes, I had luck, good Socrates, but----". + +"I understand, you had no calf." + +"Bah! Socrates, a rich tanner and not have calves?" + +"Now I understand. You had luck, had calves, but you kept them for +yourself, and Hermes received nothing." + +"You're a clever man. I've often said so. I kept only three of my ten +oaths, and I didn't deal differently with the other gods. If the same +is the case with you, isn't that the reason, possibly, why we are now +abandoned by the gods? To be sure, I ordered Larissa to sacrifice a +whole hecatomb after my death." + +"But that is Larissa's affair, whereas it was you, friend Elpidias, +who made the promises." + +"That's true, that's true. But you, good Socrates, could you, godless +as you are, deal better with the gods than I who was a god-fearing +tanner?" + +"My friend, I know not whether I dealt better or worse. At first I +brought offerings without having made vows. Later I offered neither +calves nor vows." + +"What, not a single calf, you unfortunate man?" + +"Yes, friend, if Hermes had had to live by my gifts, I am afraid he +would have grown very thin." + +"I understand. You did not traffic in cattle, so you offered articles +of some other trade--probably a mina or so of what the pupils paid +you." + +"You know, my friend, I didn't ask pay of my pupils, and my trade +scarcely sufficed to support me. If the gods reckoned on the sorry +remnants of my meals they miscalculated." + +"Oh, blasphemer, in comparison with you I can be proud of my piety. Ye +gods, look upon this man! I did deceive you at times, but now and then +I shared with you the surplus of some fortunate deal. He who gives at +all gives much in comparison with a blasphemer who gives nothing. +Socrates, I think you had better go on alone! I fear that your +company, godless one, damages me in the eyes of the gods." + +"As you will, good Elpidias. I swear by the dog no one shall force his +company on another. Unhand the fold of my mantle, and farewell. I will +go on alone." + +And Socrates walked forward with a sure tread, feeling the ground, +however, at every step. + +But Elpidias behind him instantly cried out: + +"Wait, wait, my good fellow-citizen, do not leave an Athenian alone in +this horrible place! I was only making fun. Take what I said as a +joke, and don't go so quickly. I marvel how you can see a thing in +this hellish darkness." + +"Friend, I have accustomed my eyes to it." + +"That's good. Still I, can't approve of your not having brought +sacrifices to the gods. No, I can't, poor Socrates, I can't. The +honourable Sophroniscus certainly taught you better in your youth, and +you yourself used to take part in the prayers. I saw you. + +"Yes. But I am accustomed to examine all our motives and to accept +only those that after investigation prove to be reasonable. And so a +day came on which I said to myself: 'Socrates, here you are praying to +the Olympians. Why are you praying to them?'" + +Elpidias laughed. + +"Really you philosophers sometimes don't know how to answer the +simplest questions. I'm a plain tanner who never in my life studied +sophistry, yet I know why I must honour the Olympians." + +"Tell me quickly, so that I. too, may know why." + +"Why? Ha! Ha! It's too simple, you wise Socrates." + +"So much the better if it's simple. But don't keep your wisdom from, +me. Tell me--why must one honour the gods?" + +"Why. Because everybody does it." + +"Friend, you know very well that not every one honours the gods. +Wouldn't it be more correct to say 'many'?" + +"Very well, many." + +"But tell me, don't more men deal wickedly than righteously?" + +"I think so. You find more wicked people than good people." + +"Therefore, if you follow the majority, you ought to deal wickedly and +not righteously?" + +"What are you saying?" + +"_I'm_ not saying it, _you_ are. But I think the reason that men +reverence the Olympians is not because the majority worship them. We +must find another, more rational ground. Perhaps you mean they deserve +reverence?" + +"Yes, very right." + +"Good. But then arises a new question: Why do they deserve reverence?" + +"Because of their greatness." + +"Ah, that's more like it. Perhaps I will soon be agreeing with you. It +only remains for you to tell me wherein their greatness consists. +That's a difficult question, isn't it? Let us seek the answer +together. Homer says that the impetuous Ares, when stretched flat on +the ground by a stone thrown by Pallas Athene, covered with his body +the space that can be travelled in seven mornings. You see what an +enormous space." + +"Is that wherein greatness consists?" + +"There you have me, my friend. That raises another question. Do you +remember the athlete Theophantes? He towered over the people a whole +head's length, whereas Pericles was no larger than you. But whom do we +call great, Pericles or Theophantes?" + +"I see that greatness does not consist in size of body. In that you're +right. I am glad we agree. Perhaps greatness consists in virtue?" + +"Certainly." + +"I think so, too." + +"Well, then, who must bow to whom? The small before the large, or +those who are great in virtues before the wicked?" + +"The answer is clear." + +"I think so, too. Now we will look further into this matter. Tell me +truly, did you ever kill other people's children with arrows?" + +"It goes without saying, never! Do you think so ill of me?" + +"Nor have you, I trust, ever seduced the wives of other men?" + +"I was an upright tanner and a good husband. Don't forget that, +Socrates, I beg of you!" + +"You never became a brute, nor by your lustfulness gave your faithful +Larissa occasion to revenge herself on women whom you had ruined and +on their innocent children?" + +"You anger me, really, Socrates." + +"But perhaps you snatched your inheritance from your father and threw +him into prison?" + +"Never! Why these insulting questions?" + +"Wait, my friend. Perhaps we will both reach a conclusion. Tell me, +would you have considered a man great who had done all these things of +which I have spoken?" + +"No, no, no! I should have called such a man a scoundrel, and lodged +public complaint against him with the judges in the market-place." + +"Well, Elpidias, why did you not complain in the market-place against +Zeus and the Olympians? The son of Cronos carried on war with his own +father, and was seized with brutal lust for the daughters of men, +while Hera took vengeance upon innocent virgins. Did not both of them +convert the unhappy daughter of Inachos into a common cow? Did not +Apollo kill all the children of Niobe with his arrows? Did not +Callenius steal bulls? Well, then, Elpidias, if it is true that he who +has less virtue must do honour to him who has more, then you should +not build altars to the Olympians, but they to you." + +"Blaspheme not, impious Socrates! Keep quiet! How dare you judge the +acts of the gods?" + +"Friend, a higher power has judged them. Let us investigate the +question. What is the mark of divinity? I think you said, Greatness, +which consists in virtue. Now is not this greatness the one divine +spark in man? But if we test the greatness of the gods by our small +human virtues, and it turns out that that which measures is greater +than that which is measured, then it follows that the divine principle +itself condemns the Olympians. But, then--" + +"What, then?" + +"Then, friend Elpidias, they; are no gods, but deceptive phantoms, +creations of a dream. Is it not so?" + +"Ah, that's whither your talk leads, you bare-footed philosopher! Now +I see what they said of you is true. You are like that fish that takes +men captive with its look. So you took me captive in order to confound +my believing soul and awaken doubt in it. It was already beginning to +waver in its reverence for Zeus. Speak alone. I won't answer any +more." + +"Be not wrathful, Elpidias! I don't wish to inflict any evil upon you. +But if you are tired of following my arguments to their logical +conclusions, permit me to relate to you an allegory of a Milesian +youth. Allegories rest the mind, and the relaxation is not +unprofitable." + +"Speak, if your story is not too long and its purpose is good." + +"Its purpose is truth, friend Elpidias, and I will be brief. Once, you +know, in ancient times, Miletus was exposed to the attacks of the +barbarians. Among the youth who were seized was a son of the wisest +and best of all the citizens in the land. His precious child was +overtaken by a severe illness and became unconscious. He was abandoned +and allowed to lie like worthless booty. In the dead of night he came +to his senses. High above him glimmered the stars. Round about +stretched the desert; and in the distance he heard the howl of beasts +of prey. He was alone. + +"He was entirely alone, and, besides that, the gods had taken from him +the recollection of his former life. In vain he racked his brain--it +was as dark and empty as the inhospitable desert in which he found +himself. But somewhere, far away, behind the misty and obscure figures +conjured up by his reason, loomed the thought of his lost home, and a +vague realisation of the figure of the best of all men; and in his +heart resounded the word 'father.' Doesn't it seem to you that the +fate of this youth resembles the fate of all humanity?" + +"How so?" + +"Do we not all awake to life on earth with a hazy recollection of +another home? And does not the figure of the great unknown hover +before our souls?" + +"Continue, Socrates, I am listening." + +"The youth revived, arose, and walked cautiously, seeking to avoid all +dangers. When after long wanderings his strength was nearly gone, he +discerned a fire in the misty distance which illumined the darkness +and banished the cold. A faint hope crept into his weary soul, and the +recollections of his father's house again awoke within him. The youth +walked toward the light, and cried: 'It is you, my father, it is you!' + +"And was it his father's house?" + +"No, it was merely a night lodging of wild nomads. So for many years +he led the miserable life of a captive slave, and only in his dreams +saw the distant home and rested on his father's bosom. Sometimes with +weak hand he endeavoured to lure from dead clay or wood or stone the +face and form that ever hovered before him. There even came moments +when he grew weary and embraced his own handiwork and prayed to it and +wet it with his tears. But the stone remained cold stone. And as he +waxed in years the youth destroyed his creations, which already seemed +to him a vile defamation of his ever-present dreams. At last fate +brought him to a good barbarian, who asked him for the cause of his +constant mourning. When the youth, confided to him the hopes and +longings of his soul, the barbarian, a wise man, said: + +"'The world would be better did such a man and such a country exist as +that of which you speak. But by what mark would you recognise your +father?' + +"'In my country,' answered the youth, 'they reverenced wisdom and +virtue and looked up to my father as to the master.' + +"'Well and good,' answered the barbarian. 'I must assume that a kernel +of your father's teaching resides in you. Therefore take up the +wanderer's staff, and proceed on your way. Seek perfect wisdom and +truth, and when you have found them, cast aside your staff--there will +be your home and your father.' + +"And the youth went on his way at break of day--" + +"Did he find the one whom he sought?" + +"He is still seeking. Many countries, cities and men has he seen. He +has come to know all the ways by land; he has traversed the stormy +seas; he has searched the courses of the stars in heaven by which a +pilgrim can direct his course in the limitless deserts. And each time +that on his wearisome way an inviting fire lighted up the darkness +before his eyes, his heart beat faster and hope crept into his soul. +'That is my father's hospitable house,' he thought. + +"And when a hospitable host would greet the tired traveller and offer +him the peace and blessing of his hearth, the youth would fall at his +feet and say with emotion: 'I thank you, my father! Do you not +recognise your son?' + +"And many were prepared to take him as their son, for at that time +children were frequently kidnapped. But after the first glow of +enthusiasm, the youth would detect traces of imperfection, sometimes +even of wickedness. Then he would begin to investigate and to test his +host with questions concerning justice and injustice. And soon he +would be driven forth again upon the cold wearisome way. More than +once he said to himself: 'I will remain at this last hearth, I will +preserve my last belief. It shall be the home of my father.'" + +"Do you know, Socrates, perhaps that would have been the most sensible +thing to do." + +"So he thought sometimes. But the habit of investigating, the confused +dream of a father, gave him no peace. Again and again he shook the +dust from his feet; again and again he grasped his staff. Not a few +stormy nights found him shelterless. Doesn't it seem to you that the +fate of this youth resembles the fate of mankind?" + +"Why?" + +"Does not the race of man make trial of its childish belief and doubt +it while seeking the unknown? Doesn't it fashion the form of its +father in wood, stone, custom, and tradition? And then man finds the +form imperfect, destroys it, and again goes on his wanderings in the +desert of doubt. Always for the purpose of seeking something better--" + +"Oh, you cunning sage, now I understand the purpose of your allegory! +And I will tell you to your face that if only a ray of light were to +penetrate this gloom, I would not put the Lord on trial with +unnecessary questions--" + +"Friend, the light is already shining," answered Socrates. + + + +V + + +It seemed as if the words of the philosopher had taken effect. High up +in the distance a beam of light penetrated a vapoury envelop and +disappeared in the mountains. It was followed by a second and a third. +There beyond the darkness luminous genii seemed to be hovering, and a +great mystery seemed about to be revealed, as if the breath of life +were blowing, as if some great ceremony were in process. But it was +still very remote. The shades descended thicker and thicker; foggy +clouds rolled into masses, separated, and chased one another +endlessly, ceaselessly. + +A blue light from a distant peak fell upon a deep ravine; the clouds +rose and covered the heavens to the zenith. + +The rays disappeared and withdrew to a greater and greater distance, +as if fleeing from this vale of shades and horrors. Socrates stood and +looked after them sadly. Elpidias peered up at the peak full of dread. + +"Look, Socrates! What do you see there on the mountain?" + +"Friend," answered; the philosopher, "let us investigate our +situation. Since we are in motion, we must arrive somewhere, and since +earthly existence must have a limit, I believe that this limit is to +be found at the parting of two beginnings. In the struggle of light +with darkness we attain the crown of our endeavours. Since the ability +to think has not been taken from us, I believe that it is the will of +the divine being who called our power of thinking into existence that +we should investigate the goal of our endeavours ourselves. Therefore, +Elpidias, let us in dignified manner go to meet the dawn that lies +beyond those clouds. + +"Oh, my friend! If that is the dawn, I would rather the long cheerless +night: had endured forever, for it was quiet and peaceful. Don't you +think our time passed tolerably well in instructive converse? And now +my soul trembles before the tempest drawing nigh. Say what you will, +but there before us are no ordinary shades of the dead night." + +Zeus hurled a bolt into the bottomless gulf. + +Ctesippus looked up to the peak, and his soul was frozen with horror. +Huge sombre figures of the Olympian gods crowded on the mountain in a +circle. A last ray shot through the region of clouds and mists, and +died away like a faint memory. A storm was approaching now, and the +powers of night were once more in the ascendant. Dark figures covered +the heavens. In the centre Ctesippus could discern the all-powerful +son of Cronos surrounded by a halo. The sombre figures of the older +gods encircled him in wrathful excitement. Like flocks of birds +winging their way in the twilight, like eddies of dust driven by a +hurricane, like autumn leaves lashed by Boreas, numerous minor gods +hovered in long clouds and occupied the spaces. + +When the clouds gradually lifted from the peak and sent down dismal +horror to embrace the earth, Ctesippus fell upon his knees. Later, he +admitted that in this dreadful moment he forgot all his master's +deductions and conclusions. His courage failed him; and terror took +possession of his soul. + +He merely listened. + +Two voices resounded there where before had been silence, the one the +mighty and threatening voice of the Godhead, the other the weak voice +of a mortal which the wind carried from the mountain slope to the spot +where Ctesippus had left Socrates. + +"Are you," thus spake the voice from the clouds, "are you the +blasphemous Socrates who strives with the gods of heaven and earth? +Once there were none so joyous, so immortal, as we. Now, for long we +have passed our days in darkness because of the unbelief and doubt +that have come upon earth. Never has the mist closed in on us so +heavily as since the time your voice resounded in Athens, the city we +once so dearly loved. Why did you not follow the commands of your +father, Sophroniscus? The good man permitted himself a few little +sins, especially in his youth, yet by way of recompense, we frequently +enjoyed the smell of his offerings--" + +"Stay, son of Cronos, and solve my doubts! Do I understand that you +prefer cowardly hypocrisy to searchings for the truth?" + +At this question the crags trembled with the shock of a thundering +peal. The first breath of the tempest scattered in the distant gorges. +But the mountains still trembled, for he who was enthroned upon them +still trembled. And in the anxious quiet of the night only distant +sighs could be heard. + +In the very bowels of the earth the chained Titans seemed to be +groaning under the blow of the son of Cronos. + +"Where are you now, you impious questioner?" suddenly came the mocking +voice of the Olympian. + +"I am here, son of Cronos, on the same spot. Nothing but your answer +can move me from it. I am waiting." + +Thunder bellowed in the clouds like a wild animal amazed at the daring +of a Lybian tamer's fearless approach. At the end of a few moments the +Voice again rolled over the spaces: + +"Son of Sophroniscus! Is it not enough that you bred so much +scepticism on earth that the clouds of your doubt reached even to +Olympus? Indeed, many a time when you were carrying on your discourse +m the market-places or in the academies or on the promenades, it +seemed to me as if you had already destroyed all the altars on earth, +and the dust were rising from them up to us here on the mountain. Even +that is not enough! Here before my very face you will not recognise +the power of the immortals--" + +"Zeus, thou art wrathful. Tell me, who gave me the 'Daemon' which +spoke to my soul throughout my life and forced me to seek the truth +without resting?" + +Mysterious silence reigned in the clouds. + +"Was it not you? You are silent? Then I will investigate the matter. +Either this divine beginning emanates from you or from some one else. +If from you, I bring it to you as an offering. I offer you the ripe +fruit of my life, the flame of the spark of your own kindling! See, +son of Cronos, I preserved, my gift; in my deepest heart grew the seed +that you sowed. It is the very fire of my soul. It burned in those +crises when with my own hand I tore the thread of life. Why will you +not accept it? Would you have me regard you as a poor master whose age +prevents him from seeing that his own pupil obediently follows out his +commands? Who are you that would command me to stifle the flame that +has illuminated my whole life, ever since it was penetrated by the +first ray of sacred thought? The sun says not to the stars: 'Be +extinguished that I may rise.' The sun rises and the weak glimmer of +the stars is quenched by its far, far stronger light. The day says not +to the torch: 'Be extinguished; you interfere with me.' The day +breaks, and the torch smokes, but no longer shines. The divinity that +I am questing is not you who are afraid of doubt. That divinity is +like the day, like the sun, and shines without extinguishing other +lights. The god I seek is the god who would say to me: 'Wanderer, give +me your torch, you no longer need it, for I am the source of all +light. Searcher for truth, set upon my altar the little gift of your +doubt, because in me is its solution.' If you are that god, harken to +my questions. No one kills his own child, and my doubts are a branch +of the eternal spirit whose name is truth." + +Round about, the fires of heaven tore the dark clouds, and out of the +howling storm again resounded the powerful voice: + +"Whither did your doubts tend, you arrogant sage, who renounce +humility, the most beautiful adornment of earthly virtues? You +abandoned the friendly shelter of credulous simplicity to wander in +the desert of doubt. You have seen this dead space from which the +living gods have departed. Will you traverse it, you insignificant +worm, who crawl in the dust of your pitiful profanation of the gods? +Will you vivify the world? Will you conceive the unknown divinity to +whom you do not dare to pray? You miserable digger of dung, soiled by +the smut of ruined altars, are you perchance the architect who shall +build the new temple? Upon what do you base your hopes, you who +disavow the old gods and have no new gods to take their place? The +eternal night of doubts unsolved, the dead desert, deprived of the +living spirit--_this_ is your world, you pitiful worm, who gnawed at +the living belief which was a refuge for simple hearts, who converted +the world into a dead chaos. Now, then, where are you, you +insignificant, blasphemous sage?" + +Nothing was heard but the mighty storm roaring through the spaces. +Then the thunder died away, the wind folded its pinions, and torrents +of rain streamed through the darkness, like incessant floods of tears +which threatened to devour the earth and drown it in a deluge of +unquenchable grief. + +It seemed to Ctesippus that the master was overcome, and that the +fearless, restless, questioning voice had been silenced forever. But a +few moments later it issued again from the same spot. + +"Your words, son of Cronos, hit the mark better than your +thunderbolts. The thoughts you have cast into my terrified soul have +haunted me often, and it has sometimes seemed as if my heart would +break under the burden of their unendurable anguish. Yes, I abandoned +the friendly shelter of credulous simplicity. Yes, I have seen the +spaces from which the living gods have departed enveloped in the night +of eternal doubt. But I walked without fear, for my 'Daemon' lighted +the way, the divine beginning of all life. Let us investigate the +question. Are not offerings of incense burnt on your altars in the +name of Him who gives life? You are stealing what belongs to another! +Not you, but that other, is served by credulous simplicity. Yes, you +are right, I am no architect. I am not the builder of a new temple. +Not to me was it given to raise from the earth to the heavens the +glorious structure of the coming faith. I am one who digs dung, soiled +by the smut of destruction. But my conscience tells me, son of Cronos, +that the work of one who digs dung is also necessary for the future +temple. When the time comes for the proud and stately edifice to stand +on the purified place, and for the living divinity of the new belief +to erect his throne upon it, I, the modest digger of dung, will go to +him and say: 'Here am I who restlessly crawled in the dust of +disavowal. When surrounded by fog and soot, I had no time to raise my +eyes from the ground; my head had only a vague conception of the +future building. Will you reject me, you just one, Just, and True, and +Great?'" + +Silence and astonishment reigned in the spaces. Then Socrates raised +his voice, and continued: + +"The sunbeam falls upon the filthy puddle, and light vapour, leaving +heavy mud behind, rises to the sun, melts, and dissolves in the ether. +With your sunbeam you touched my dust-laden soul and it aspired to +you, Unknown One, whose name is mystery! I sought for you, because you +are Truth; I strove to attain to you, because you are Justice; I loved +you, because you are Love; I died for you, because you are the Source +of Life. Will you reject me, O Unknown? My torturing doubts, my +passionate search for truth, my difficult life, my voluntary +death--accept them as a bloodless offering, as a prayer, as a sigh! +Absorb them as the immeasurable ether absorbs the evaporating mists! +Take them, you whose name I do not know, let not the ghosts of the +night I have traversed bar the way to you, to eternal light! Give way, +you shades who dim the light of the dawn! I tell you, gods of my +people, you are unjust, and where there is no justice there can be no +truth, but only phantoms, creations of a dream. To this conclusion +have I come, I, Socrates, who sought to fathom all things. Rise, dead +mists, I go my way to Him whom I have sought all my life long!" + +The thunder burst again--a short, abrupt peal, as if the egis had +fallen from the weakened hand of the thunderer. Storm-voices trembled +from the mountains, sounding dully in the gorges, and died away in the +clefts. In their place resounded other, marvellous tones. + +When Ctesippus looked up in astonishment, a spectacle presented itself +such as no mortal eyes had ever seen. + +The night vanished. The clouds lifted, and godly figures floated in +the azure like golden ornaments on the hem of a festive robe. Heroic +forms glimmered over the remote crags and ravines, and Elpidias, whose +little figure was seen standing at the edge of a cleft in the rocks, +stretched his hands toward them, as if beseeching the vanishing gods +for a solution of his fate. + +A mountain-peak now stood out clearly above the mysterious mist, +gleaming like a torch over dark blue valleys. The son of Cronos, the +thunderer, was no longer enthroned upon it, and the other Olympians +too were gone. + +Socrates stood alone in the light of the sun under the high heavens. + +Ctesippus was distinctly conscious of the pulse-beat of a mysterious +life quivering throughout nature, stirring even the tiniest blade of +grass. + +A breath seemed to be stirring the balmy air, a voice to be sounding +in wonderful harmony, an invisible tread to be heard--the tread of the +radiant Dawn! + +And on the illumined peak a man still stood, stretching out his arms +in mute ecstasy, moved by a mighty impulse. + +A moment, and all disappeared, and the light of an ordinary day shone +upon the awakened soul of Ctesippus. It was like dismal twilight after +the revelation of nature that had blown upon him the breath of an +unknown life. + + * * * * * + +In deep silence the pupils of the philosopher listened to the +marvellous recital of Ctesippus. Plato broke the silence. + +"Let us investigate the dream and its significance," he said. + +"Let us investigate it," responded the others. + + + + +THE SIGNAL + + + +BY VSEVOLOD M. GARSHIN. + + +Semyon Ivanonv was a track-walker. His hut was ten versts away from a +railroad station in one direction and twelve versts away in the other. +About four versts away there was a cotton mill that had opened the +year before, and its tall chimney rose up darkly from behind the +forest. The only dwellings around were the distant huts of the other +track-walkers. + +Semyon Ivanov's health had been completely shattered. Nine years +before he had served right through the war as servant to an officer. +The sun had roasted him, the cold frozen him, and hunger famished him +on the forced marches of forty and fifty versts a day in the heat and +the cold and the rain and the shine. The bullets had whizzed about +him, but, thank God! none had struck him. + +Semyon's regiment had once been on the firing line. For a whole week +there had been skirmishing with the Turks, only a deep ravine +separating the two hostile armies; and from morn till eve there had +been a steady cross-fire. Thrice daily Semyon carried a steaming +samovar and his officer's meals from the camp kitchen to the ravine. +The bullets hummed about him and rattled viciously against the rocks. +Semyon was terrified and cried sometimes, but still he kept right on. +The officers were pleased with him, because he always had hot tea +ready for them. + +He returned from the campaign with limbs unbroken but crippled with +rheumatism. He had experienced no little sorrow since then. He arrived +home to find that his father, an old man, and his little four-year-old +son had died. Semyon remained alone with his wife. They could not do +much. It was difficult to plough with rheumatic arms and legs. They +could no longer stay in their village, so they started off to seek +their fortune in new places. They stayed for a short time on the line, +in Kherson and Donshchina, but nowhere found luck. Then the wife went +out to service, and Semyon continued to travel about. Once he happened +to ride on an engine, and at one of the stations the face of the +station-master seemed familiar to him. Semyon looked at the +station-master and the station-master looked at Semyon, and they +recognised each other. He had been an officer in Semyon's regiment. + +"You are Ivanov?" he said. + +"Yes, your Excellency." + +"How do you come to be here?" + +Semyon told him all. + +"Where are you off to?" + +"I cannot tell you, sir." + +"Idiot! What do you mean by 'cannot tell you?'" + +"I mean what I say, your Excellency. There is nowhere for me to go to. +I must hunt for work, sir." + +The station-master looked at him, thought a bit, and said: "See here, +friend, stay here a while at the station. You are married, I think. +Where is your wife?" + +"Yes, your Excellency, I am married. My wife is at Kursk, in service +with a merchant." + +"Well, write to your wife to come here. I will give you a free pass +for her. There is a position as track-walker open. I will speak to the +Chief on your behalf." + +"I shall be very grateful to you, your Excellency," replied Semyon. + +He stayed at the station, helped in the kitchen, cut firewood, kept +the yard clean, and swept the platform. In a fortnight's time his wife +arrived, and Semyon went on a hand-trolley to his hut. The hut was a +new one and warm, with as much wood as he wanted. There was a little +vegetable garden, the legacy of former track-walkers, and there was +about half a dessiatin of ploughed land on either side of the railway +embankment. Semyon was rejoiced. He began to think of doing some +farming, of purchasing a cow and a horse. + +He was given all necessary stores--a green flag, a red flag, lanterns, +a horn, hammer, screw-wrench for the nuts, a crow-bar, spade, broom, +bolts, and nails; they gave him two books of regulations and a +time-table of the train. At first Semyon could not sleep at night, and +learnt the whole time-table by heart. Two hours before a train was due +he would go over his section, sit on the bench at his hut, and look +and listen whether the rails were trembling or the rumble of the train +could be heard. He even learned the regulations by heart, although he +could only read by spelling out each word. + +It was summer; the work was not heavy; there was no snow to clear +away, and the trains on that line were infrequent. Semyon used to go +over his verst twice a day, examine and screw up nuts here and there, +keep the bed level, look at the water-pipes, and then go home to his +own affairs. There was only one drawback--he always had to get the +inspector's permission for the least little thing he wanted to do. +Semyon and his wife were even beginning to be bored. + +Two months passed, and Semyon commenced to make the acquaintance of +his neighbours, the track-walkers on either side of him. One was a +very old man, whom the authorities were always meaning to relieve. He +scarcely moved out of his hut. His wife used to do all his work. The +other track-walker, nearer the station, was a young man, thin, but +muscular. He and Semyon met for the first time on the line midway +between the huts. Semyon took off his hat and bowed. "Good health to +you, neighbour," he said. + +The neighbour glanced askance at him. "How do you do?" he replied; +then turned around and made off. + +Later the wives met. Semyon's wife passed the time of day with her +neighbour, but neither did she say much. + +On one occasion Semyon said to her: "Young woman, your husband is not +very talkative." + +The woman said nothing at first, then replied: "But what is there for +him to talk about? Every one has his own business. Go your way, and +God be with you." + +However, after another month or so they became acquainted. Semyon +would go with Vasily along the line, sit on the edge of a pipe, smoke, +and talk of life. Vasily, for the most part, kept silent, but Semyon +talked of his village, and of the campaign through which he had +passed. + +"I have had no little sorrow in my day," he would say; "and goodness +knows I have not lived long. God has not given me happiness, but what +He may give, so will it be. That's so, friend Vasily Stepanych." + +Vasily Stepanych knocked the ashes out of his pipe against a rail, +stood up, and said: "It is not luck which follows us in life, but +human beings. There is no crueller beast on this earth than man. Wolf +does not eat wolf, but man will readily devour man." + +"Come, friend, don't say that; a wolf eats wolf." + +"The words came into my mind and I said it. All the same, there is +nothing crueller than man. If it were not for his wickedness and +greed, it would be possible to live. Everybody tries to sting you to +the quick, to bite and eat you up." + +Semyon pondered a bit. "I don't know, brother," he said; "perhaps it +is as you say, and perhaps it is God's will." + +"And perhaps," said Vasily, "it is waste of time for me to talk to +you. To put everything unpleasant on God, and sit and suffer, means, +brother, being not a man but an animal. That's what I have to say." +And he turned and went off without saying good-bye. + +Semyon also got up. "Neighbour," he called, "why do you lose your +temper?" But his neighbour did not look round, and kept on his way. + +Semyon gazed after him until he was lost to sight in the cutting at +the turn. He went home and said to his wife: "Arina, our neighbour is +a wicked person, not a man." + +However, they did not quarrel. They met again and discussed the same +topics. + +"All, mend, if it were not for men we should not be poking in these +huts," said Vasily, on one occasion. + +"And what if we are poking in these huts? It's not so bad. You can +live in them." + +"Live in them, indeed! Bah, you!... You have lived long and learned +little, looked at much and seen little. What sort of life is there for +a poor man in a hut here or there? The cannibals are devouring you. +They are sucking up all your life-blood, and when you become old, they +will throw you out just as they do husks to feed the pigs on. What pay +do you get?" + +"Not much, Vasily Stepanych--twelve rubles." + +"And I, thirteen and a half rubles. Why? By the regulations the +company should give us fifteen rubles a month with firing and +lighting. Who decides that you should have twelve rubles, or I +thirteen and a half? Ask yourself! And you say a man can live on that? +You understand it is not a question of one and a half rubles or three +rubles--even if they paid us each the whole fifteen rubles. I was at +the station last month. The director passed through. I saw him. I had +that honour. He had a separate coach. He came out and stood on the +platform... I shall not stay here long; I shall go somewhere, +anywhere, follow my nose." + +"But where will you go, Stepanych? Leave well enough alone. Here you +have a house, warmth, a little piece of land. Your wife is a worker." + +"Land! You should look at my piece of land. Not a twig on it--nothing. +I planted some cabbages in the spring, just when the inspector came +along. He said: 'What is this? Why have you not reported this? Why +have you done this without permission? Dig them up, roots and all.' He +was drunk. Another time he would not have said a word, but this time +it struck him. Three rubles fine!..." + +Vasily kept silent for a while, pulling at his pipe, then added +quietly: "A little more and I should have done for him." + +"You are hot-tempered." + +"No, I am not hot-tempered, but I tell the truth and think. Yes, he +will still get a bloody nose from me. I will complain to the Chief. We +will see then!" And Vasily did complain to the Chief. + +Once the Chief came to inspect the line. Three days later important +personages were coming from St. Petersburg and would pass over the +line. They were conducting an inquiry, so that previous to their +journey it was necessary to put everything in order. Ballast was laid +down, the bed was levelled, the sleepers carefully examined, spikes +driven in a bit, nuts screwed up, posts painted, and orders given for +yellow sand to be sprinkled at the level crossings. The woman at the +neighbouring hut turned her old man out to weed. Semyon worked for a +whole week. He put everything in order, mended his kaftan, cleaned and +polished his brass plate until it fairly shone. Vasily also worked +hard. The Chief arrived on a trolley, four men working the handles and +the levers making the six wheels hum. The trolley travelled at twenty +versts an hour, but the wheels squeaked. It reached Semyon's hut, and +he ran out and reported in soldierly fashion. All appeared to be in +repair. + +"Have you been here long?" inquired the Chief. + +"Since the second of May, your Excellency." + +"All right. Thank you. And who is at hut No. 164?" + +The traffic inspector (he was travelling with the Chief on the +trolley) replied: "Vasily Spiridov." + +"Spiridov, Spiridov... Ah! is he the man against whom you made a note +last year?" + +"He is." + +"Well, we will see Vasily Spiridov. Go on!" The workmen laid to the +handles, and the trolley got under way. Semyon watched it, and +thought, "There will be trouble between them and my neighbour." + +About two hours later he started on his round. He saw some one coming +along the line from the cutting. Something white showed on his head. +Semyon began to look more attentively. It was Vasily. He had a stick +in his hand, a small bundle on his shoulder, and his cheek was bound +up in a handkerchief. + +"Where are you off to?" cried Semyon. + +Vasily came quite close. He was very pale, white as chalk, and his +eyes had a wild look. Almost choking, he muttered: "To town--to +Moscow--to the head office." + +"Head office? Ah, you are going to complain, I suppose. Give it up! +Vasily Stepanych, forget it." + +"No, mate, I will not forget. It is too late. See! He struck me in the +face, drew blood. So long as I live I will not forget. I will not +leave it like this!" + +Semyon took his hand. "Give it up, Stepanych. I am giving you good +advice. You will not better things..." + +"Better things! I know myself I shan't better things. You were right +about Fate. It would be better for me not to do it, but one must stand +up for the right." "But tell me, how did it happen?" + +"How? He examined everything, got down from the trolley, looked into +the hut. I knew beforehand that he would be strict, and so I had put +everything into proper order. He was just going when I made my +complaint. He immediately cried out: 'Here is a Government inquiry +coming, and you make a complaint about a vegetable garden. Here are +privy councillors coming, and you annoy me with cabbages!' I lost +patience and said something--not very much, but it offended him, and +he struck me in the face. I stood still; I did nothing, just as if +what he did was perfectly all right. They went off; I came to myself, +washed my face, and left." + +"And what about the hut?" + +"My wife is staying there. She will look after things. Never mind +about their roads." + +Vasily got up and collected himself. "Good-bye, Ivanov. I do not know +whether I shall get any one at the office to listen to me." + +"Surely you are not going to walk?" + +"At the station I will try to get on a freight train, and to-morrow I +shall be in Moscow." + +The neighbours bade each other farewell. Vasily was absent for some +time. His wife worked for him night and day. She never slept, and wore +herself out waiting for her husband. On the third day the commission +arrived. An engine, luggage-van, and two first-class saloons; but +Vasily was still away. Semyon saw his wife on the fourth day. Her face +was swollen from crying and her eyes were red. + +"Has your husband returned?" he asked. But the woman only made a +gesture with her hands, and without saying a word went her way. + +Semyon had learnt when still a lad to make flutes out of a kind of +reed. He used to burn out the heart of the stalk, make holes where +necessary, drill them, fix a mouthpiece at one end, and tune them so +well that it was possible to play almost any air on them. He made a +number of them in his spare time, and sent them by his friends amongst +the freight brakemen to the bazaar in the town. He got two kopeks +apiece for them. On the day following the visit of the commission he +left his wife at home to meet the six o'clock train, and started off +to the forest to cut some sticks. He went to the end of his +section--at this point the line made a sharp turn--descended the +embankment, and struck into the wood at the foot of the mountain. +About half a verst away there was a big marsh, around which splendid +reeds for his flutes grew. He cut a whole bundle of stalks and started +back home. The sun was already dropping low, and in the dead stillness +only the twittering of the birds was audible, and the crackle of the +dead wood under his feet. As he walked along rapidly, he fancied he +heard the clang of iron striking iron, and he redoubled his pace. +There was no repair going on in his section. What did it mean? He +emerged from the woods, the railway embankment stood high before him; +on the top a man was squatting on the bed of the line busily engaged +in something. Semyon commenced quietly to crawl up towards him. He +thought it was some one after the nuts which secure the rails. He +watched, and the man got up, holding a crow-bar in his hand. He had +loosened a rail, so that it would move to one side. A mist swam before +Semyon's eyes; he wanted to cry out, but could not. It was Vasily! +Semyon scrambled up the bank, as Vasily with crow-bar and wrench slid +headlong down the other side. + +"Vasily Stepanych! My dear friend, come back! Give me the crow-bar. We +will put the rail back; no one will know. Come back! Save your soul +from sin!" + +Vasily did not look back, but disappeared into the woods. + +Semyon stood before the rail which had been torn up. He threw down his +bundle of sticks. A train was due; not a freight, but a +passenger-train. And he had nothing with which to stop it, no flag. He +could not replace the rail and could not drive in the spikes with his +bare hands. It was necessary to run, absolutely necessary to run to +the hut for some tools. "God help me!" he murmured. + +Semyon started running towards his hut. He was out of breath, but +still ran, falling every now and then. He had cleared the forest; he +was only a few hundred feet from his hut, not more, when he heard the +distant hooter of the factory sound--six o'clock! In two minutes' time +No. 7 train was due. "Oh, Lord! Have pity on innocent souls!" In his +mind Semyon saw the engine strike against the loosened rail with its +left wheel, shiver, careen, tear up and splinter the sleepers--and +just there, there was a curve and the embankment seventy feet high, +down which the engine would topple--and the third-class carriages +would be packed ... little children... All sitting in the train now, +never dreaming of danger. "Oh, Lord! Tell me what to do!... No, it is +impossible to run to the hut and get back in time." + +Semyon did not run on to the hut, but turned back and ran faster than +before. He was running almost mechanically, blindly; he did not know +himself what was to happen. He ran as far as the rail which had been +pulled up; his sticks were lying in a heap. He bent down, seized one +without knowing why, and ran on farther. It seemed to him the train +was already coming. He heard the distant whistle; he heard the quiet, +even tremor of the rails; but his strength was exhausted, he could run +no farther, and came to a halt about six hundred feet from the awful +spot. Then an idea came into his head, literally like a ray of light. +Pulling off his cap, he took out of it a cotton scarf, drew his knife +out of the upper part of his boot, and crossed himself, muttering, +"God bless me!" + +He buried the knife in his left arm above the elbow; the blood spurted +out, flowing in a hot stream. In this he soaked his scarf, smoothed it +out, tied it to the stick and hung out his red flag. + +He stood waving his flag. The train was already in sight. The driver +would not see him--would come close up, and a heavy train cannot be +pulled up in six hundred feet. + +And the blood kept on flowing. Semyon pressed the sides of the wound +together so as to close it, but the blood did not diminish. Evidently +he had cut his arm very deep. His head commenced to swim, black spots +began to dance before his eyes, and then it became dark. There was a +ringing in his ears. He could not see the train or hear the noise. +Only one thought possessed him. "I shall not be able to keep standing +up. I shall fall and drop the flag; the train will pass over me. Help +me, oh Lord!" + +All turned black before him, his mind became a blank, and he dropped +the flag; but the blood-stained banner did not fall to the ground. A +hand seized it and held it high to meet the approaching train. The +engineer saw it, shut the regulator, and reversed steam. The train +came to a standstill. + +People jumped out of the carriages and collected in a crowd. They saw +a man lying senseless on the footway, drenched in blood, and another +man standing beside him with a blood-stained rag on a stick. + +Vasily looked around at all. Then, lowering his head, he said: "Bind +me. I tore up a rail!" + + + + +THE DARLING + + + +BY ANTON P. CHEKOV + + +Olenka, the daughter of the retired collegiate assessor Plemyanikov, +was sitting on the back-door steps of her house doing nothing. It was +hot, the flies were nagging and teasing, and it was pleasant to think +that it would soon be evening. Dark rain clouds were gathering from +the east, wafting a breath of moisture every now and then. + +Kukin, who roomed in the wing of the same house, was standing in the +yard looking up at the sky. He was the manager of the Tivoli, an +open-air theatre. + +"Again," he said despairingly. "Rain again. Rain, rain, rain! Every +day rain! As though to spite me. I might as well stick my head into a +noose and be done with it. It's ruining me. Heavy losses every day!" +He wrung his hands, and continued, addressing Olenka: "What a life, +Olga Semyonovna! It's enough to make a man weep. He works, he does his +best, his very best, he tortures himself, he passes sleepless nights, +he thinks and thinks and thinks how to do everything just right. And +what's the result? He gives the public the best operetta, the very +best pantomime, excellent artists. But do they want it? Have they the +least appreciation of it? The public is rude. The public is a great +boor. The public wants a circus, a lot of nonsense, a lot of stuff. +And there's the weather. Look! Rain almost every evening. It began to +rain on the tenth of May, and it's kept it up through the whole of +June. It's simply awful. I can't get any audiences, and don't I have +to pay rent? Don't I have to pay the actors?" + +The next day towards evening the clouds gathered again, and Kukin said +with an hysterical laugh: + +"Oh, I don't care. Let it do its worst. Let it drown the whole +theatre, and me, too. All right, no luck for me in this world or the +next. Let the actors bring suit against me and drag me to court. +What's the court? Why not Siberia at hard labour, or even the +scaffold? Ha, ha, ha!" + +It was the same on the third day. + +Olenka listened to Kukin seriously, in silence. Sometimes tears would +rise to her eyes. At last Kukin's misfortune touched her. She fell in +love with him. He was short, gaunt, with a yellow face, and curly hair +combed back from his forehead, and a thin tenor voice. His features +puckered all up when he spoke. Despair was ever inscribed on his face. +And yet he awakened in Olenka a sincere, deep feeling. + +She was always loving somebody. She couldn't get on without loving +somebody. She had loved her sick father, who sat the whole time in his +armchair in a darkened room, breathing heavily. She had loved her +aunt, who came from Brianska once or twice a year to visit them. And +before that, when a pupil at the progymnasium, she had loved her +French teacher. She was a quiet, kind-hearted, compassionate girl, +with a soft gentle way about her. And she made a very healthy, +wholesome impression. Looking at her full, rosy cheeks, at her soft +white neck with the black mole, and at the good naive smile that +always played on her face when something pleasant was said, the men +would think, "Not so bad," and would smile too; and the lady visitors, +in the middle of the conversation, would suddenly grasp her hand and +exclaim, "You darling!" in a burst of delight. + +The house, hers by inheritance, in which she had lived from birth, was +located at the outskirts of the city on the Gypsy Road, not far from +the Tivoli. From early evening till late at night she could hear the +music in the theatre and the bursting of the rockets; and it seemed to +her that Kukin was roaring and battling with his fate and taking his +chief enemy, the indifferent public, by assault. Her heart melted +softly, she felt no desire to sleep, and when Kukin returned home +towards morning, she tapped on her window-pane, and through the +curtains he saw her face and one shoulder and the kind smile she gave +him. + +He proposed to her, and they were married. And when he had a good look +of her neck and her full vigorous shoulders, he clapped his hands and +said: + +"You darling!" + +He was happy. But it rained on their wedding-day, and the expression +of despair never left his face. + +They got along well together. She sat in the cashier's box, kept the +theatre in order, wrote down the expenses, and paid out the salaries. +Her rosy cheeks, her kind naive smile, like a halo around her face, +could be seen at the cashier's window, behind the scenes, and in the +cafe. She began to tell her friends that the theatre was the greatest, +the most important, the most essential thing in the world, that it was +the only place to obtain true enjoyment in and become humanised and +educated. + +"But do you suppose the public appreciates it?" she asked. "What the +public wants is the circus. Yesterday Vanichka and I gave _Faust +Burlesqued_, and almost all the boxes were empty. If we had given some +silly nonsense, I assure you, the theatre would have been overcrowded. +To-morrow we'll put _Orpheus in Hades_ on. Do come." + +Whatever Kukin said about the theatre and the actors, she repeated. +She spoke, as he did, with contempt of the public, of its indifference +to art, of its boorishness. She meddled in the rehearsals, corrected +the actors, watched the conduct of the musicians; and when an +unfavourable criticism appeared in the local paper, she wept and went +to the editor to argue with him. + +The actors were fond of her and called her "Vanichka and I" and "the +darling." She was sorry for them and lent them small sums. When they +bilked her, she never complained to her husband; at the utmost she +shed a few tears. + +In winter, too, they got along nicely together. They leased a theatre +in the town for the whole winter and sublet it for short periods to a +Little Russian theatrical company, to a conjuror and to the local +amateur players. + +Olenka grew fuller and was always beaming with contentment; while +Kukin grew thinner and yellower and complained of his terrible losses, +though he did fairly well the whole winter. At night he coughed, and +she gave him raspberry syrup and lime water, rubbed him with eau de +Cologne, and wrapped him up in soft coverings. + +"You are my precious sweet," she said with perfect sincerity, stroking +his hair. "You are such a dear." + +At Lent he went to Moscow to get his company together, and, while +without him, Olenka was unable to sleep. She sat at the window the +whole time, gazing at the stars. She likened herself to the hens that +are also uneasy and unable to sleep when their rooster is out of the +coop. Kukin was detained in Moscow. He wrote he would be back during +Easter Week, and in his letters discussed arrangements already for the +Tivoli. But late one night, before Easter Monday, there was an +ill-omened knocking at the wicket-gate. It was like a knocking on a +barrel--boom, boom, boom! The sleepy cook ran barefooted, plashing +through the puddles, to open the gate. + +"Open the gate, please," said some one in a hollow bass voice. "I have +a telegram for you." + +Olenka had received telegrams from her husband before; but this time, +somehow, she was numbed with terror. She opened the telegram with +trembling hands and read: + +"Ivan Petrovich died suddenly to-day. Awaiting propt orders for +wuneral Tuesday." + +That was the way the telegram was written--"wuneral"--and another +unintelligible word--"propt." The telegram was signed by the manager +of the opera company. + +"My dearest!" Olenka burst out sobbing. "Vanichka, my dearest, my +sweetheart. Why did I ever meet you? Why did I ever get to know you +and love you? To whom have you abandoned your poor Olenka, your poor, +unhappy Olenka?" + +Kukin was buried on Tuesday in the Vagankov Cemetery in Moscow. Olenka +returned home on Wednesday; and as soon as she entered her house she +threw herself on her bed and broke into such loud sobbing that she +could be heard in the street and in the neighbouring yards. + +"The darling!" said the neighbours, crossing themselves. "How Olga +Semyonovna, the poor darling, is grieving!" + +Three months afterwards Olenka was returning home from mass, +downhearted and in deep mourning. Beside her walked a man also +returning from church, Vasily Pustovalov, the manager of the merchant +Babakayev's lumber-yard. He was wearing a straw hat, a white vest with +a gold chain, and looked more like a landowner than a business man. + +"Everything has its ordained course, Olga Semyonovna," he said +sedately, with sympathy in his voice. "And if any one near and dear to +us dies, then it means it was God's will and we should remember that +and bear it with submission." + +He took her to the wicket-gate, said good-bye and went away. After +that she heard his sedate voice the whole day; and on closing her eyes +she instantly had a vision of his dark beard. She took a great liking +to him. And evidently he had been impressed by her, too; for, not long +after, an elderly woman, a distant acquaintance, came in to have a cup +of coffee with her. As soon as the woman was seated at table she began +to speak about Pustovalov--how good he was, what a steady man, and any +woman could be glad to get him as a husband. Three days later +Pustovalov himself paid Olenka a visit. He stayed only about ten +minutes, and spoke little, but Olenka fell in love with him, fell in +love so desperately that she did not sleep the whole night and burned +as with fever. In the morning she sent for the elderly woman. Soon +after, Olenka and Pustovalov were engaged, and the wedding followed. + +Pustovalov and Olenka lived happily together. He usually stayed in the +lumber-yard until dinner, then went out on business. In his absence +Olenka took his place in the office until evening, attending to the +book-keeping and despatching the orders. + +"Lumber rises twenty per cent every year nowadays," she told her +customers and acquaintances. "Imagine, we used to buy wood from our +forests here. Now Vasichka has to go every year to the government of +Mogilev to get wood. And what a tax!" she exclaimed, covering her +cheeks with her hands in terror. "What a tax!" + +She felt as if she had been dealing in lumber for ever so long, that +the most important and essential thing in life was lumber. There was +something touching and endearing in the way she pronounced the words, +"beam," "joist," "plank," "stave," "lath," "gun-carriage," "clamp." At +night she dreamed of whole mountains of boards and planks, long, +endless rows of wagons conveying the wood somewhere, far, far from the +city. She dreamed that a whole regiment of beams, 36 ft. x 5 in., were +advancing in an upright position to do battle against the lumber-yard; +that the beams and joists and clamps were knocking against each other, +emitting the sharp crackling reports of dry wood, that they were all +falling and then rising again, piling on top of each other. Olenka +cried out in her sleep, and Pustovalov said to her gently: + +"Olenka my dear, what is the matter? Cross yourself." + +Her husband's opinions were all hers. If he thought the room was too +hot, she thought so too. If he thought business was dull, she thought +business was dull. Pustovalov was not fond of amusements and stayed +home on holidays; she did the same. + +"You are always either at home or in the office," said her friends. +"Why don't you go to the theatre or to the circus, darling?" + +"Vasichka and I never go to the theatre," she answered sedately. "We +have work to do, we have no time for nonsense. What does one get out +of going to theatre?" + +On Saturdays she and Pustovalov went to vespers, and on holidays to +early mass. On returning home they walked side by side with rapt +faces, an agreeable smell emanating from both of them and her silk +dress rustling pleasantly. At home they drank tea with milk-bread and +various jams, and then ate pie. Every day at noontime there was an +appetising odour in the yard and outside the gate of cabbage soup, +roast mutton, or duck; and, on fast days, of fish. You couldn't pass +the gate without being seized by an acute desire to eat. The samovar +was always boiling on the office table, and customers were treated to +tea and biscuits. Once a week the married couple went to the baths and +returned with red faces, walking side by side. + +"We are getting along very well, thank God," said Olenka to her +friends. "God grant that all should live as well as Vasichka and I." + +When Pustovalov went to the government of Mogilev to buy wood, she was +dreadfully homesick for him, did not sleep nights, and cried. +Sometimes the veterinary surgeon of the regiment, Smirnov, a young man +who lodged in the wing of her house, came to see her evenings. He +related incidents, or they played cards together. This distracted her. +The most interesting of his stories were those of his own life. He was +married and had a son; but he had separated from his wife because she +had deceived him, and now he hated her and sent her forty rubles a +month for his son's support. Olenka sighed, shook her head, and was +sorry for him. + +"Well, the Lord keep you," she said, as she saw him off to the door by +candlelight. "Thank you for coming to kill time with me. May God give +you health. Mother in Heaven!" She spoke very sedately, very +judiciously, imitating her husband. The veterinary surgeon had +disappeared behind the door when she called out after him: "Do you +know, Vladimir Platonych, you ought to make up with your wife. Forgive +her, if only for the sake of your son. The child understands +everything, you may be sure." + +When Pustovalov returned, she told him in a low voice about the +veterinary surgeon and his unhappy family life; and they sighed and +shook their heads, and talked about the boy who must be homesick for +his father. Then, by a strange association of ideas, they both stopped +before the sacred images, made genuflections, and prayed to God to +send them children. + +And so the Pustovalovs lived for full six years, quietly and +peaceably, in perfect love and harmony. But once in the winter Vasily +Andreyich, after drinking some hot tea, went out into the lumber-yard +without a hat on his head, caught a cold and took sick. He was treated +by the best physicians, but the malady progressed, and he died after +an illness of four months. Olenka was again left a widow. + +"To whom have you left me, my darling?" she wailed after the funeral. +"How shall I live now without you, wretched creature that I am. Pity +me, good people, pity me, fatherless and motherless, all alone in the +world!" + +She went about dressed in black and weepers, and she gave up wearing +hats and gloves for good. She hardly left the house except to go to +church and to visit her husband's grave. She almost led the life of a +nun. + +It was not until six months had passed that she took off the weepers +and opened her shutters. She began to go out occasionally in the +morning to market with her cook. But how she lived at home and what +went on there, could only be surmised. It could be surmised from the +fact that she was seen in her little garden drinking tea with the +veterinarian while he read the paper out loud to her, and also from +the fact that once on meeting an acquaintance at the post-office, she +said to her: + +"There is no proper veterinary inspection in our town. That is why +there is so much disease. You constantly hear of people getting sick +from the milk and becoming infected by the horses and cows. The health +of domestic animals ought really to be looked after as much as that of +human beings." + +She repeated the veterinarian's words and held the same opinions as he +about everything. It was plain that she could not exist a single year +without an attachment, and she found her new happiness in the wing of +her house. In any one else this would have been condemned; but no one +could think ill of Olenka. Everything in her life was so transparent. +She and the veterinary surgeon never spoke about the change in their +relations. They tried, in fact, to conceal it, but unsuccessfully; for +Olenka could have no secrets. When the surgeon's colleagues from the +regiment came to see him, she poured tea, and served the supper, and +talked to them about the cattle plague, the foot and mouth disease, +and the municipal slaughter houses. The surgeon was dreadfully +embarrassed, and after the visitors had left, he caught her hand and +hissed angrily: + +"Didn't I ask you not to talk about what you don't understand? When we +doctors discuss things, please don't mix in. It's getting to be a +nuisance." + +She looked at him in astonishment and alarm, and asked: + +"But, Volodichka, what _am_ I to talk about?" + +And she threw her arms round his neck, with tears in her eyes, and +begged him not to be angry. And they were both happy. + +But their happiness was of short duration. The veterinary surgeon went +away with his regiment to be gone for good, when it was transferred to +some distant place almost as far as Siberia, and Olenka was left +alone. + +Now she was completely alone. Her father had long been dead, and his +armchair lay in the attic covered with dust and minus one leg. She got +thin and homely, and the people who met her on the street no longer +looked at her as they had used to, nor smiled at her. Evidently her +best years were over, past and gone, and a new, dubious life was to +begin which it were better not to think about. + +In the evening Olenka sat on the steps and heard the music playing and +the rockets bursting in the Tivoli; but it no longer aroused any +response in her. She looked listlessly into the yard, thought of +nothing, wanted nothing, and when night came on, she went to bed and +dreamed of nothing but the empty yard. She ate and drank as though by +compulsion. + +And what was worst of all, she no longer held any opinions. She saw +and understood everything that went on around her, but she could not +form an opinion about it. She knew of nothing to talk about. And how +dreadful not to have opinions! For instance, you see a bottle, or you +see that it is raining, or you see a muzhik riding by in a wagon. But +what the bottle or the rain or the muzhik are for, or what the sense +of them all is, you cannot tell--you cannot tell, not for a thousand +rubles. In the days of Kukin and Pustovalov and then of the veterinary +surgeon, Olenka had had an explanation for everything, and would have +given her opinion freely no matter about what. But now there was the +same emptiness in her heart and brain as in her yard. It was as +galling and bitter as a taste of wormwood. + +Gradually the town grew up all around. The Gypsy Road had become a +street, and where the Tivoli and the lumber-yard had been, there were +now houses and a row of side streets. How quickly time flies! Olenka's +house turned gloomy, the roof rusty, the shed slanting. Dock and +thistles overgrew the yard. Olenka herself had aged and grown homely. +In the summer she sat on the steps, and her soul was empty and dreary +and bitter. When she caught the breath of spring, or when the wind +wafted the chime of the cathedral bells, a sudden flood of memories +would pour over her, her heart would expand with a tender warmth, and +the tears would stream down her cheeks. But that lasted only a moment. +Then would come emptiness again, and the feeling, What is the use of +living? The black kitten Bryska rubbed up against her and purred +softly, but the little creature's caresses left Olenka untouched. That +was not what she needed. What she needed was a love that would absorb +her whole being, her reason, her whole soul, that would give her +ideas, an object in life, that would warm her aging blood. And she +shook the black kitten off her skirt angrily, saying: + +"Go away! What are you doing here?" + +And so day after day, year after year not a single joy, not a single +opinion. Whatever Marva, the cook, said was all right. + +One hot day in July, towards evening, as the town cattle were being +driven by, and the whole yard was filled with clouds of dust, there +was suddenly a knocking at the gate. Olenka herself went to open it, +and was dumbfounded to behold the veterinarian Smirnov. He had turned +grey and was dressed as a civilian. All the old memories flooded into +her soul, she could not restrain herself, she burst out crying, and +laid her head on Smirnov's breast without saying a word. So overcome +was she that she was totally unconscious of how they walked into the +house and seated themselves to drink tea. + +"My darling!" she murmured, trembling with joy. "Vladimir Platonych, +from where has God sent you?" + +"I want to settle here for good," he told her. "I have resigned my +position and have come here to try my fortune as a free man and lead a +settled life. Besides, it's time to send my boy to the gymnasium. He +is grown up now. You know, my wife and I have become reconciled." + +"Where is she?" asked Olenka. + +"At the hotel with the boy. I am looking for lodgings." + +"Good gracious, bless you, take my house. Why won't my house do? Oh, +dear! Why, I won't ask any rent of you," Olenka burst out in the +greatest excitement, and began to cry again. "You live here, and the +wing will be enough for me. Oh, Heavens, what a joy!" + +The very next day the roof was being painted and the walls +whitewashed, and Olenka, arms akimbo, was going about the yard +superintending. Her face brightened with her old smile. Her whole +being revived and freshened, as though she had awakened from a long +sleep. The veterinarian's wife and child arrived. She was a thin, +plain woman, with a crabbed expression. The boy Sasha, small for his +ten years of age, was a chubby child, with clear blue eyes and dimples +in his cheeks. He made for the kitten the instant he entered the yard, +and the place rang with his happy laughter. + +"Is that your cat, auntie?" he asked Olenka. "When she has little +kitties, please give me one. Mamma is awfully afraid of mice." + +Olenka chatted with him, gave him tea, and there was a sudden warmth +in her bosom and a soft gripping at her heart, as though the boy were +her own son. + +In the evening, when he sat in the dining-room studying his lessons, +she looked at him tenderly and whispered to herself: + +"My darling, my pretty. You are such a clever child, so good to look +at." + +"An island is a tract of land entirely surrounded by water," he +recited. + +"An island is a tract of land," she repeated--the first idea +asseverated with conviction after so many years of silence and mental +emptiness. + +She now had her opinions, and at supper discussed with Sasha's parents +how difficult the studies had become for the children at the +gymnasium, but how, after all, a classical education was better than a +commercial course, because when you graduated from the gymnasium then +the road was open to you for any career at all. If you chose to, you +could become a doctor, or, if you wanted to, you could become an +engineer. + +Sasha began to go to the gymnasium. His mother left on a visit to her +sister in Kharkov and never came back. The father was away every day +inspecting cattle, and sometimes was gone three whole days at a time, +so that Sasha, it seemed to Olenka, was utterly abandoned, was treated +as if he were quite superfluous, and must be dying of hunger. So she +transferred him into the wing along with herself and fixed up a little +room for him there. + +Every morning Olenka would come into his room and find him sound +asleep with his hand tucked under his cheek, so quiet that he seemed +not to be breathing. What a shame to have to wake him, she thought. + +"Sashenka," she said sorrowingly, "get up, darling. It's time to go to +the gymnasium." + +He got up, dressed, said his prayers, then sat down to drink tea. He +drank three glasses of tea, ate two large cracknels and half a +buttered roll. The sleep was not yet out of him, so he was a little +cross. + +"You don't know your fable as you should, Sashenka," said Olenka, +looking at him as though he were departing on a long journey. "What a +lot of trouble you are. You must try hard and learn, dear, and mind +your teachers." + +"Oh, let me alone, please," said Sasha. + +Then he went down the street to the gymnasium, a little fellow wearing +a large cap and carrying a satchel on his back. Olenka followed him +noiselessly. + +"Sashenka," she called. + +He looked round and she shoved a date or a caramel into his hand. When +he reached the street of the gymnasium, he turned around and said, +ashamed of being followed by a tall, stout woman: + +"You had better go home, aunt. I can go the rest of the way myself." + +She stopped and stared after him until he had disappeared into the +school entrance. + +Oh, how she loved him! Not one of her other ties had been so deep. +Never before had she given herself so completely, so disinterestedly, +so cheerfully as now that her maternal instincts were all aroused. For +this boy, who was not hers, for the dimples in his cheeks and for his +big cap, she would have given her life, given it with joy and with +tears of rapture. Why? Ah, indeed, why? + +When she had seen Sasha off to the gymnasium, she returned home +quietly, content, serene, overflowing with love. Her face, which had +grown younger in the last half year, smiled and beamed. People who met +her were pleased as they looked at her. + +"How are you, Olga Semyonovna, darling? How are you getting on, +darling?" + +"The gymnasium course is very hard nowadays," she told at the market. +"It's no joke. Yesterday the first class had a fable to learn by +heart, a Latin translation, and a problem. How is a little fellow to +do all that?" + +And she spoke of the teacher and the lessons and the text-books, +repeating exactly what Sasha said about them. + +At three o'clock they had dinner. In the evening they prepared the +lessons together, and Olenka wept with Sasha over the difficulties. +When she put him to bed, she lingered a long time making the sign of +the cross over him and muttering a prayer. And when she lay in bed, +she dreamed of the far-away, misty future when Sasha would finish his +studies and become a doctor or an engineer, have a large house of his +own, with horses and a carriage, marry and have children. She would +fall asleep still thinking of the same things, and tears would roll +down her cheeks from her closed eyes. And the black cat would lie at +her side purring: "Mrr, mrr, mrr." + +Suddenly there was a loud knocking at the gate. Olenka woke up +breathless with fright, her heart beating violently. Half a minute +later there was another knock. + +"A telegram from Kharkov," she thought, her whole body in a tremble. +"His mother wants Sasha to come to her in Kharkov. Oh, great God!" + +She was in despair. Her head, her feet, her hands turned cold. There +was no unhappier creature in the world, she felt. But another minute +passed, she heard voices. It was the veterinarian coming home from the +club. + +"Thank God," she thought. The load gradually fell from her heart, she +was at ease again. And she went back to bed, thinking of Sasha who lay +fast asleep in the next room and sometimes cried out in his sleep: + +"I'll give it to you! Get away! Quit your scrapping!" + + + + +THE BET + + + +BY ANTON P. CHEKHOV + + +I + + +It was a dark autumn night. The old banker was pacing from corner to +corner of his study, recalling to his mind the party he gave in the +autumn fifteen years before. There were many clever people at the +party and much interesting conversation. They talked among other +things of capital punishment. The guests, among them not a few +scholars and journalists, for the most part disapproved of capital +punishment. They found it obsolete as a means of punishment, unfitted +to a Christian State and immoral. Some of them thought that capital +punishment should be replaced universally by life-imprisonment. + +"I don't agree with you," said the host. "I myself have experienced +neither capital punishment nor life-imprisonment, but if one may judge +_a priori_, then in my opinion capital punishment is more moral and +more humane than imprisonment. Execution kills instantly, +life-imprisonment kills by degrees. Who is the more humane +executioner, one who kills you in a few seconds or one who draws the +life out of you incessantly, for years?" + +"They're both equally immoral," remarked one of the guests, "because +their purpose is the same, to take away life. The State is not God. It +has no right to take away that which it cannot give back, if it should +so desire." + +Among the company was a lawyer, a young man of about twenty-five. On +being asked his opinion, he said: + +"Capital punishment and life-imprisonment are equally immoral; but if +I were offered the choice between them, I would certainly choose the +second. It's better to live somehow than not to live at all." + +There ensued a lively discussion. The banker who was then younger and +more nervous suddenly lost his temper, banged his fist on the table, +and turning to the young lawyer, cried out: + +"It's a lie. I bet you two millions you wouldn't stick in a cell even +for five years." + +"If you mean it seriously," replied the lawyer, "then I bet I'll stay +not five but fifteen." + +"Fifteen! Done!" cried the banker. "Gentlemen, I stake two millions." + +"Agreed. You stake two millions, I my freedom," said the lawyer. + +So this wild, ridiculous bet came to pass. The banker, who at that +time had too many millions to count, spoiled and capricious, was +beside himself with rapture. During supper he said to the lawyer +jokingly: + +"Come to your senses, young roan, before it's too late. Two millions +are nothing to me, but you stand to lose three or four of the best +years of your life. I say three or four, because you'll never stick it +out any longer. Don't forget either, you unhappy man, that voluntary +is much heavier than enforced imprisonment. The idea that you have the +right to free yourself at any moment will poison the whole of your +life in the cell. I pity you." + +And now the banker, pacing from corner to corner, recalled all this +and asked himself: + +"Why did I make this bet? What's the good? The lawyer loses fifteen +years of his life and I throw away two millions. Will it convince +people that capital punishment is worse or better than imprisonment +for life? No, no! all stuff and rubbish. On my part, it was the +caprice of a well-fed man; on the lawyer's pure greed of gold." + +He recollected further what happened after the evening party. It was +decided that the lawyer must undergo his imprisonment under the +strictest observation, in a garden wing of the banker's house. It was +agreed that during the period he would be deprived of the right to +cross the threshold, to see living people, to hear human voices, and +to receive letters and newspapers. He was permitted to have a musical +instrument, to read books, to write letters, to drink wine and smoke +tobacco. By the agreement he could communicate, but only in silence, +with the outside world through a little window specially constructed +for this purpose. Everything necessary, books, music, wine, he could +receive in any quantity by sending a note through the window. The +agreement provided for all the minutest details, which made the +confinement strictly solitary, and it obliged the lawyer to remain +exactly fifteen years from twelve o'clock of November 14th, 1870, to +twelve o'clock of November 14th, 1885. The least attempt on his part +to violate the conditions, to escape if only for two minutes before +the time freed the banker from the obligation to pay him the two +millions. + +During the first year of imprisonment, the lawyer, as far as it was +possible to judge from his short notes, suffered terribly from +loneliness and boredom. From his wing day and night came the sound of +the piano. He rejected wine and tobacco. "Wine," he wrote, "excites +desires, and desires are the chief foes of a prisoner; besides, +nothing is more boring than to drink good wine alone," and tobacco +spoils the air in his room. During the first year the lawyer was sent +books of a light character; novels with a complicated love interest, +stories of crime and fantasy, comedies, and so on. + +In the second year the piano was heard no longer and the lawyer asked +only for classics. In the fifth year, music was heard again, and the +prisoner asked for wine. Those who watched him said that during the +whole of that year he was only eating, drinking, and lying on his bed. +He yawned often and talked angrily to himself. Books he did not read. +Sometimes at nights he would sit down to write. He would write for a +long time and tear it all up in the morning. More than once he was +heard to weep. + +In the second half of the sixth year, the prisoner began zealously to +study languages, philosophy, and history. He fell on these subjects so +hungrily that the banker hardly had time to get books enough for him. +In the space of four years about six hundred volumes were bought at +his request. It was while that passion lasted that the banker received +the following letter from the prisoner: "My dear gaoler, I am writing +these lines in six languages. Show them to experts. Let them read +them. If they do not find one single mistake, I beg you to give orders +to have a gun fired off in the garden. By the noise I shall know that +my efforts have not been in vain. The geniuses of all ages and +countries speak in different languages; but in them all burns the same +flame. Oh, if you knew my heavenly happiness now that I can understand +them!" The prisoner's desire was fulfilled. Two shots were fired in +the garden by the banker's order. + +Later on, after the tenth year, the lawyer sat immovable before his +table and read only the New Testament. The banker found it strange +that a man who in four years had mastered six hundred erudite volumes, +should have spent nearly a year in reading one book, easy to +understand and by no means thick. The New Testament was then replaced +by the history of religions and theology. + +During the last two years of his confinement the prisoner read an +extraordinary amount, quite haphazard. Now he would apply himself to +the natural sciences, then he would read Byron or Shakespeare. Notes +used to come from him in which he asked to be sent at the same time a +book on chemistry, a text-book of medicine, a novel, and some treatise +on philosophy or theology. He read as though he were swimming in the +sea among broken pieces of wreckage, and in his desire to save his +life was eagerly grasping one piece after another. + + + +II + + +The banker recalled all this, and thought: + +"To-morrow at twelve o'clock he receives his freedom. Under the +agreement, I shall have to pay him two millions. If I pay, it's all +over with me. I am ruined for ever ..." + +Fifteen years before he had too many millions to count, but now he was +afraid to ask himself which he had more of, money or debts. Gambling +on the Stock-Exchange, risky speculation, and the recklessness of +which he could not rid himself even in old age, had gradually brought +his business to decay; and the fearless, self-confident, proud man of +business had become an ordinary banker, trembling at every rise and +fall in the market. + +"That cursed bet," murmured the old man clutching his head in +despair... "Why didn't the man die? He's only forty years old. He will +take away my last farthing, marry, enjoy life, gamble on the Exchange, +and I will look on like an envious beggar and hear the same words from +him every day: 'I'm obliged to you for the happiness of my life. Let +me help you.' No, it's too much! The only escape from bankruptcy and +disgrace--is that the man should die." + +The clock had just struck three. The banker was listening. In the +house every one was asleep, and one could hear only the frozen trees +whining outside the windows. Trying to make no sound, he took out of +his safe the key of the door which had not been opened for fifteen +years, put on his overcoat, and went out of the house. The garden was +dark and cold. It was raining. A damp, penetrating wind howled in the +garden and gave the trees no rest. Though he strained his eyes, the +banker could see neither the ground, nor the white statues, nor the +garden wing, nor the trees. Approaching the garden wing, he called the +watchman twice. There was no answer. Evidently the watchman had taken +shelter from the bad weather and was now asleep somewhere in the +kitchen or the greenhouse. + +"If I have the courage to fulfil my intention," thought the old man, +"the suspicion will fall on the watchman first of all." + +In the darkness he groped for the steps and the door and entered the +hall of the garden-wing, then poked his way into a narrow passage and +struck a match. Not a soul was there. Some one's bed, with no +bedclothes on it, stood there, and an iron stove loomed dark in the +corner. The seals on the door that led into the prisoner's room were +unbroken. + +When the match went out, the old man, trembling from agitation, peeped +into the little window. + +In the prisoner's room a candle was burning dimly. The prisoner +himself sat by the table. Only his back, the hair on his head and his +hands were visible. Open books were strewn about on the table, the two +chairs, and on the carpet near the table. + +Five minutes passed and the prisoner never once stirred. Fifteen +years' confinement had taught him to sit motionless. The banker tapped +on the window with his finger, but the prisoner made no movement in +reply. Then the banker cautiously tore the seals from the door and put +the key into the lock. The rusty lock gave a hoarse groan and the door +creaked. The banker expected instantly to hear a cry of surprise and +the sound of steps. Three minutes passed and it was as quiet inside as +it had been before. He made up his mind to enter. + +Before the table sat a man, unlike an ordinary human being. It was a +skeleton, with tight-drawn skin, with long curly hair like a woman's, +and a shaggy beard. The colour of his face was yellow, of an earthy +shade; the cheeks were sunken, the back long and narrow, and the hand +upon which he leaned his hairy head was so lean and skinny that it was +painful to look upon. His hair was already silvering with grey, and no +one who glanced at the senile emaciation of the face would have +believed that he was only forty years old. On the table, before his +bended head, lay a sheet of paper on which something was written in a +tiny hand. + +"Poor devil," thought the banker, "he's asleep and probably seeing +millions in his dreams. I have only to take and throw this half-dead +thing on the bed, smother him a moment with the pillow, and the most +careful examination will find no trace of unnatural death. But, first, +let us read what he has written here." + +The banker took the sheet from the table and read: + +"To-morrow at twelve o'clock midnight, I shall obtain my freedom and +the right to mix with people. But before I leave this room and see the +sun I think it necessary to say a few words to you. On my own clear +conscience and before God who sees me I declare to you that I despise +freedom, life, health, and all that your books call the blessings of +the world. + +"For fifteen years I have diligently studied earthly life. True, I saw +neither the earth nor the people, but in your books I drank fragrant +wine, sang songs, hunted deer and wild boar in the forests, loved +women... And beautiful women, like clouds ethereal, created by the +magic of your poets' genius, visited me by night and whispered to me +wonderful tales, which made my head drunken. In your books I climbed +the summits of Elbruz and Mont Blanc and saw from there how the sun +rose in the morning, and in the evening suffused the sky, the ocean +and lie mountain ridges with a purple gold. I saw from there how above +me lightnings glimmered cleaving the clouds; I saw green forests, +fields, rivers, lakes, cities; I heard syrens singing, and the playing +of the pipes of Pan; I touched the wings of beautiful devils who came +flying to me to speak of God... In your books I cast myself into +bottomless abysses, worked miracles, burned cities to the ground, +preached new religions, conquered whole countries... + +"Your books gave me wisdom. All that unwearying human thought created +in the centuries is compressed to a little lump in my skull. I know +that I am cleverer than you all. + +"And I despise your books, despise all worldly blessings and wisdom. +Everything is void, frail, visionary and delusive as a mirage. Though +you be proud and wise and beautiful, yet will death wipe you from the +face of the earth like the mice underground; and your posterity, your +history, and the immortality of your men of genius will be as frozen +slag, burnt down together with the terrestrial globe. + +"You are mad, and gone the wrong way. You take falsehood for truth and +ugliness for beauty. You would marvel if suddenly apple and orange +trees should bear frogs and lizards instead of fruit, and if roses +should begin to breathe the odour of a sweating horse. So do I marvel +at you, who have bartered heaven for earth. I do not want to +understand you. + +"That I may show you in deed my contempt for that by which you live, I +waive the two millions of which I once dreamed as of paradise, and +which I now despise. That I may deprive myself of my right to them, I +shall come out from here five minutes before the stipulated term, and +thus shall violate the agreement." + +When he had read, the banker put the sheet on the table, kissed the +head of the strange man, and began to weep. He went out of the wing. +Never at any other time, not even after his terrible losses on the +Exchange, had he felt such contempt for himself as now. Coming home, +he lay down on his bed, but agitation and tears kept him a long time +from sleeping... + +The next morning the poor watchman came running to him and told him +that they had seen the man who lived in the wing climb through the +window into the garden. He had gone to the gate and disappeared. The +banker instantly went with his servants to the wing and established +the escape of his prisoner. To avoid unnecessary rumours he took the +paper with the renunciation from the table and, on his return, locked +it in his safe. + + + + +VANKA + + + +BY ANTON P. CHEKHOV + + +Nine-year-old Vanka Zhukov, who had been apprentice to the shoemaker +Aliakhin for three months, did not go to bed the night before +Christmas. He waited till the master and mistress and the assistants +had gone out to an early church-service, to procure from his +employer's cupboard a small phial of ink and a penholder with a rusty +nib; then, spreading a crumpled sheet of paper in front of him, he +began to write. + +Before, however, deciding to make the first letter, he looked +furtively at the door and at the window, glanced several times at the +sombre ikon, on either side of which stretched shelves full of lasts, +and heaved a heart-rending sigh. The sheet of paper was spread on a +bench, and he himself was on his knees in front of it. + +"Dear Grandfather Konstantin Makarych," he wrote, "I am writing you a +letter. I wish you a Happy Christmas and all God's holy best. I have +no mamma or papa, you are all I have." + +Vanka gave a look towards the window in which shone the reflection of +his candle, and vividly pictured to himself his grandfather, +Konstantin Makarych, who was night-watchman at Messrs. Zhivarev. He +was a small, lean, unusually lively and active old man of sixty-five, +always smiling and blear-eyed. All day he slept in the servants' +kitchen or trifled with the cooks. At night, enveloped in an ample +sheep-skin coat, he strayed round the domain tapping with his cudgel. +Behind him, each hanging its head, walked the old bitch Kashtanka, and +the dog Viun, so named because of his black coat and long body and his +resemblance to a loach. Viun was an unusually civil and friendly dog, +looking as kindly at a stranger as at his masters, but he was not to +be trusted. Beneath his deference and humbleness was hid the most +inquisitorial maliciousness. No one knew better than he how to sneak +up and take a bite at a leg, or slip into the larder or steal a +muzhik's chicken. More than once they had nearly broken his hind-legs, +twice he had been hung up, every week he was nearly flogged to death, +but he always recovered. + +At this moment, for certain, Vanka's grandfather must be standing at +the gate, blinking his eyes at the bright red windows of the village +church, stamping his feet in their high-felt boots, and jesting with +the people in the yard; his cudgel will be hanging from his belt, he +will be hugging himself with cold, giving a little dry, old man's +cough, and at times pinching a servant-girl or a cook. + +"Won't we take some snuff?" he asks, holding out his snuff-box to the +women. The women take a pinch of snuff, and sneeze. + +The old man goes into indescribable ecstasies, breaks into loud +laughter, and cries: + +"Off with it, it will freeze to your nose!" + +He gives his snuff to the dogs, too. Kashtanka sneezes, twitches her +nose, and walks away offended. Viun deferentially refuses to sniff and +wags his tail. It is glorious weather, not a breath of wind, clear, +and frosty; it is a dark eight, but the whole village, its white roofs +and streaks of smoke from the chimneys, the trees silvered with +hoar-frost, and the snowdrifts, you can see it all. The sky +scintillates with bright twinkling stars, and the Milky Way stands out +so clearly that it looks as if it had been polished and rubbed over +with snow for the holidays... + +Vanka sighs, dips his pen in the ink, and continues to write: + +"Last night I got a thrashing, my master dragged me by my hair into +the yard, and belaboured me with a shoe-maker's stirrup, because, +while I was rocking his brat in its cradle, I unfortunately fell +asleep. And during the week, my mistress told me to clean a herring, +and I began by its tail, so she took the herring and stuck its snout +into my face. The assistants tease me, send me to the tavern for +vodka, make me steal the master's cucumbers, and the master beats me +with whatever is handy. Food there is none; in the morning it's bread, +at dinner gruel, and in the evening bread again. As for tea or +sour-cabbage soup, the master and the mistress themselves guzzle that. +They make me sleep in the vestibule, and when their brat cries, I +don't sleep at all, but have to rock the cradle. Dear Grandpapa, for +Heaven's sake, take me away from here, home to our village, I can't +bear this any more... I bow to the ground to you, and will pray to God +for ever and ever, take me from here or I shall die..." + +The corners of Vanka's mouth went down, he rubbed his eyes with his +dirty fist, and sobbed. + +"I'll grate your tobacco for you," he continued, "I'll pray to God for +you, and if there is anything wrong, then flog me like the grey goat. +And if you really think I shan't find work, then I'll ask the manager, +for Christ's sake, to let me clean the boots, or I'll go instead of +Fedya as underherdsman. Dear Grandpapa, I can't bear this any more, +it'll kill me... I wanted to run away to our village, but I have no +boots, and I was afraid of the frost, and when I grow up I'll look +after you, no one shall harm you, and when you die I'll pray for the +repose of your soul, just like I do for mamma Pelagueya. + +"As for Moscow, it is a large town, there are all gentlemen's houses, +lots of horses, no sheep, and the dogs are not vicious. The children +don't come round at Christmas with a star, no one is allowed to sing +in the choir, and once I saw in a shop window hooks on a line and +fishing rods, all for sale, and for every kind of fish, awfully +convenient. And there was one hook which would catch a sheat-fish +weighing a pound. And there are shops with guns, like the master's, +and I am sure they must cost 100 rubles each. And in the meat-shops +there are woodcocks, partridges, and hares, but who shot them or where +they come from, the shopman won't say. + +"Dear Grandpapa, and when the masters give a Christmas tree, take a +golden walnut and hide it in my green box. Ask the young lady, Olga +Ignatyevna, for it, say it's for Vanka." + +Vanka sighed convulsively, and again stared at the window. He +remembered that his grandfather always went to the forest for the +Christmas tree, and took his grandson with him. What happy times! The +frost crackled, his grandfather crackled, and as they both did, Vanka +did the same. Then before cutting down the Christmas tree his +grandfather smoked his pipe, took a long pinch of snuff, and made fun +of poor frozen little Vanka... The young fir trees, wrapt in +hoar-frost, stood motionless, waiting for which of them would die. +Suddenly a hare springing from somewhere would dart over the +snowdrift... His grandfather could not help shouting: + +"Catch it, catch it, catch it! Ah, short-tailed devil!" + +When the tree was down, his grandfather dragged it to the master's +house, and there they set about decorating it. The young lady, Olga +Ignatyevna, Vanka's great friend, busied herself most about it. When +little Vanka's mother, Pelagueya, was still alive, and was +servant-woman in the house, Olga Ignatyevna used to stuff him with +sugar-candy, and, having nothing to do, taught him to read, write, +count up to one hundred, and even to dance the quadrille. When +Pelagueya died, they placed the orphan Vanka in the kitchen with his +grandfather, and from the kitchen he was sent to Moscow to Aliakhin, +the shoemaker. + +"Come quick, dear Grandpapa," continued Vanka, "I beseech you for +Christ's sake take me from here. Have pity on a poor orphan, for here +they beat me, and I am frightfully hungry, and so sad that I can't +tell you, I cry all the time. The other day the master hit me on the +head with a last; I fell to the ground, and only just returned to +life. My life is a misfortune, worse than any dog's... I send +greetings to Aliona, to one-eyed Tegor, and the coachman, and don't +let any one have my mouth-organ. I remain, your grandson, Ivan Zhukov, +dear Grandpapa, do come." + +Vanka folded his sheet of paper in four, and put it into an envelope +purchased the night before for a kopek. He thought a little, dipped +the pen into the ink, and wrote the address: + +"The village, to my grandfather." He then scratched his head, thought +again, and added: "Konstantin Makarych." Pleased at not having been +interfered with in his writing, he put on his cap, and, without +putting on his sheep-skin coat, ran out in his shirt-sleeves into the +street. + +The shopman at the poulterer's, from whom he had inquired the night +before, had told him that letters were to be put into post-boxes, and +from there they were conveyed over the whole earth in mail troikas by +drunken post-boys and to the sound of bells. Vanka ran to the first +post-box and slipped his precious letter into the slit. + +An hour afterwards, lulled by hope, he was sleeping soundly. In his +dreams he saw a stove, by the stove his grandfather sitting with his +legs dangling down, barefooted, and reading a letter to the cooks, and +Viun walking round the stove wagging his tail. + + + + +HIDE AND SEEK + + + +BY FIODOR SOLOGUB + + +Everything in Lelechka's nursery was bright, pretty, and cheerful. +Lelechka's sweet voice charmed her mother. Lelechka was a delightful +child. There was no other such child, there never had been, and there +never would be. Lelechka's mother, Serafima Aleksandrovna, was sure of +that. Lelechka's eyes were dark and large, her cheeks were rosy, her +lips were made for kisses and for laughter. But it was not these +charms in Lelechka that gave her mother the keenest joy. Lelechka was +her mother's only child. That was why every movement of Lelechka's +bewitched her mother. It was great bliss to hold Lelechka on her knees +and to fondle her; to feel the little girl in her arms--a thing as +lively and as bright as a little bird. + +To tell the truth, Serafima Aleksandrovna felt happy only in the +nursery. She felt cold with her husband. + +Perhaps it was because he himself loved the cold--he loved to drink +cold water, and to breathe cold air. He was always fresh and cool, +with a frigid smile, and wherever he passed cold currents seemed to +move in the air. + +The Nesletyevs, Sergey Modestovich and Serafima Aleksandrovna, had +married without love or calculation, because it was the accepted +thing. He was a young man of thirty-five, she a young woman of +twenty-five; both were of the same circle and well brought up; he was +expected to take a wife, and the time had come for her to take a +husband. + +It even seemed to Serafima Aleksandrovna that she was in love with her +future husband, and this made her happy. He looked handsome and +well-bred; his intelligent grey eyes always preserved a dignified +expression; and he fulfilled his obligations of a fiance with +irreproachable gentleness. + +The bride was also good-looking; she was a tall, dark-eyed, +dark-haired girl, somewhat timid but very tactful. He was not after +her dowry, though it pleased him to know that she had something. He +had connexions, and his wife came of good, influential people. This +might, at the proper opportunity, prove useful. Always irreproachable +and tactful, Nesletyev got on in his position not so fast that any one +should envy him, nor yet so slow that he should envy any one +else--everything came in the proper measure and at the proper time. + +After their marriage there was nothing in the manner of Sergey +Modestovich to suggest anything wrong to his wife. Later, however, +when his wife was about to have a child, Sergey Modestovich +established connexions elsewhere of a light and temporary nature. +Serafima Aleksandrovna found this out, and, to her own astonishment, +was not particularly hurt; she awaited her infant with a restless +anticipation that swallowed every other feeling. + +A little girl was born; Serafima Aleksandrovna gave herself up to her. +At the beginning she used to tell her husband, with rapture, of all +the joyous details of Lekchka's existence. But she soon found that he +listened to her without the slightest interest, and only from the +habit of politeness. Serafima Aleksandrovna drifted farther and +farther away from him. She loved her little girl with the ungratified +passion that other women, deceived in their husbands, show their +chance young lovers. + +"_Mamochka_, let's play _priatki_" (hide and seek), cried Lelechka, +pronouncing the _r_ like the _l_, so that the word sounded "pliatki." + +This charming inability to speak always made, Serafima Aleksandrovna +smile with tender rapture. Lelechka then ran away, stamping with her +plump little legs over the carpets, and hid herself behind the +curtains near her bed. + +"_Tiu-tiu, mamochka!_" she cried out in her sweet, laughing voice, as +she looked out with a single roguish eye. + +"Where is my baby girl?" the mother asked, as she looked for Lelechka +and made believe that she did not see her. + +And Lelechka poured out her rippling laughter in her hiding place. +Then she came out a little farther, and her mother, as though she had +only just caught sight of her, seized her by her little shoulders and +exclaimed joyously: "Here she is, my Lelechka!" + +Lelechka laughed long and merrily, her head close to her mother's +knees, and all of her cuddled up between her mother's white hands. Her +mother's eyes glowed with passionate emotion. + +"Now, _mamochka_, you hide," said Lelechka, as she ceased laughing. + +Her mother went to hide. Lelechka turned away as though not to see, +but watched her _mamochka_ stealthily all the time. Mamma hid behind +the cupboard, and exclaimed: "_Tiu-tiu_, baby girl!" + +Lelechka ran round the room and looked into all the corners, making +believe, as her mother had done before, that she was seeking--though +she really knew all the time where her _mamochka_ was standing. + +"Where's my _mamochka_?" asked Lelechka. "She's not here, and she's +not here," she kept on repeating, as she ran from corner to corner. + +Her mother stood, with suppressed breathing, her head pressed against +the wall, her hair somewhat disarranged. A smile of absolute bliss +played on her red lips. + +The nurse, Fedosya, a good-natured and fine-looking, if somewhat +stupid woman, smiled as she looked at her mistress with her +characteristic expression, which seemed to say that it was not for her +to object to gentlewomen's caprices. She thought to herself: "The +mother is like a little child herself--look how excited she is." + +Lelechka was getting nearer her mother's corner. Her mother was +growing more absorbed every moment by her interest in the game; her +heart beat with short quick strokes, and she pressed even closer to +the wall, disarranging her hair still more. Lelechka suddenly glanced +toward her mother's corner and screamed with joy. + +"I've found 'oo," she cried out loudly and joyously, mispronouncing +her words in a way that again made her mother happy. + +She pulled her mother by her hands to the middle of the room, they +were merry and they laughed; and Lelechka again hid her head against +her mother's knees, and went on lisping and lisping, without end, her +sweet little words, so fascinating yet so awkward. + +Sergey Modestovich was coming at this moment toward the nursery. +Through the half-closed doors he heard the laughter, the joyous +outcries, the sound of romping. He entered the nursery, smiling his +genial cold smile; he was irreproachably dressed, and he looked fresh +and erect, and he spread round him an atmosphere of cleanliness, +freshness and coldness. He entered in the midst of the lively game, +and he confused them all by his radiant coldness. Even Fedosya felt +abashed, now for her mistress, now for herself. Serafima Aleksandrovna +at once became calm and apparently cold--and this mood communicated +itself to the little girl, who ceased to laugh, but looked instead, +silently and intently, at her father. + +Sergey Modestovich gave a swift glance round the room. He liked coming +here, where everything was beautifully arranged; this was done by +Serafima Aleksandrovna, who wished to surround her little girl, from +her very infancy, only with the loveliest things. Serafima +Aleksandrovna dressed herself tastefully; this, too, she did for +Lelechka, with the same end in view. One thing Sergey Modestovich had +not become reconciled to, and this was his wife's almost continuous +presence in the nursery. + +"It's just as I thought... I knew that I'd find you here," he said +with a derisive and condescending smile. + +They left the nursery together. As he followed his wife through the +door Sergey Modestovich said rather indifferently, in an incidental +way, laying no stress on his words: "Don't you think that it would be +well for the little girl if she were sometimes without your company? +Merely, you see, that the child should feel its own individuality," he +explained in answer to Serafima Aleksandrovna's puzzled glance. + +"She's still so little," said Serafima Aleksandrovna. + +"In any case, this is but my humble opinion. I don't insist. It's your +kingdom there." + +"I'll think it over," his wife answered, smiling, as he did, coldly +but genially. + +Then they began to talk of something else. + + + +II + + +Nurse Fedosya, sitting in the kitchen that evening, was telling the +silent housemaid Darya and the talkative old cook Agathya about the +young lady of the house, and how the child loved to play _priatki_ +with her mother--"She hides her little face, and cries '_tiutiu_'!" + +"And the mistress herself is like a little one," added Fedosya, +smiling. + +Agathya listened and shook her head ominously; while her face became +grave and reproachful. + +"That the mistress does it, well, that's one thing; but that the young +lady does it, that's bad." + +"Why?" asked Fedosya with curiosity. + +This expression of curiosity gave her face the look of a wooden, +roughly-painted doll. + +"Yes, that's bad," repeated Agathya with conviction. "Terribly bad!" + +"Well?" said Fedosya, the ludicrous expression of curiosity on her +face becoming more emphatic. + +"She'll hide, and hide, and hide away," said Agathya, in a mysterious +whisper, as she looked cautiously toward the door. + +"What are you saying?" exclaimed Fedosya, frightened. + +"It's the truth I'm saying, remember my words," Agathya went on with +the same assurance and secrecy. "It's the surest sign." + +The old woman had invented this sign, quite suddenly, herself; and she +was evidently very proud of it. + + + +III + + +Lelechka was asleep, and Serafima Aleksandrovna was sitting in her own +room, thinking with joy and tenderness of Lelechka. Lelechka was in +her thoughts, first a sweet, tiny girl, then a sweet, big girl, then +again a delightful little girl; and so until the end she remained +mamma's little Lelechka. + +Serafima Aleksandrovna did not even notice that Fedosya came up to her +and paused before her. Fedosya had a worried, frightened look. + +"Madam, madam," she said quietly, in a trembling voice. + +Serafima Aleksandrovna gave a start. Fedosya's face made her anxious. + +"What is it, Fedosya?" she asked with great concern. "Is there +anything wrong with Lelechka?" + +"No, madam," said Fedosya, as she gesticulated with her hands to +reassure her mistress and to make her sit down. "Lelechka is asleep, +may God be with her! Only I'd like to say something--you see--Lelechka +is always hiding herself--that's not good." + +Fedosya looked at her mistress with fixed eyes, which had grown round +from fright. + +"Why not good?" asked Serafima Aleksandrovna, with vexation, +succumbing involuntarily to vague fears. + +"I can't tell you how bad it is," said Fedosya, and her face expressed +the most decided confidence. + +"Please speak in a sensible way," observed Serafima Aleksandrovna +dryly. "I understand nothing of what you are saying." + +"You see, madam, it's a kind of omen," explained Fedosya abruptly, in +a shamefaced way. + +"Nonsense!" said Serafima Aleksandrovna. + +She did not wish to hear any further as to the sort of omen it was, +and what it foreboded. But, somehow, a sense of fear and of sadness +crept into her mood, and it was humiliating to feel that an absurd +tale should disturb her beloved fancies, and should agitate her so +deeply. + +"Of course I know that gentlefolk don't believe in omens, but it's a +bad omen, madam," Fedosya went on in a doleful voice, "the young lady +will hide, and hide..." + +Suddenly she burst into tears, sobbing out loudly: "She'll hide, and +hide, and hide away, angelic little soul, in a damp grave," she +continued, as she wiped her tears with her apron and blew her nose. + +"Who told you all this?" asked Serafima Aleksandrovna in an austere +low voice. + +"Agathya says so, madam," answered Fedosya; "it's she that knows." + +"Knows!" exclaimed Serafima Aleksandrovna in irritation, as though she +wished to protect herself somehow from this sudden anxiety. "What +nonsense! Please don't come to me with any such notions in the future. +Now you may go." + +Fedosya, dejected, her feelings hurt, left her mistress. + +"What nonsense! As though Lelechka could die!" thought Serafima +Aleksandrovna to herself, trying to conquer the feeling of coldness +and fear which took possession, of her at the thought of the possible +death of Lelechka. Serafima Aleksandrovna, upon reflection, attributed +these women's beliefs in omens to ignorance. She saw clearly that +there could be no possible connexion between a child's quite ordinary +diversion and the continuation of the child's life. She made a special +effort that evening to occupy her mind with other matters, but her +thoughts returned involuntarily to the fact that Lelechka loved to +hide herself. + +When Lelechka was still quite small, and had learned to distinguish +between her mother and her nurse, she sometimes, sitting in her +nurse's arms, made a sudden roguish grimace, and hid her laughing face +in the nurse's shoulder. Then she would look out with a sly glance. + +Of late, in those rare moments of the mistress' absence from the +nursery, Fedosya had again taught Lelechka to hide; and when +Lelechka's mother, on coming in, saw how lovely the child looked when +she was hiding, she herself began to play hide and seek with her tiny +daughter. + + + +IV + + +The next day Serafima Aleksandrovna, absorbed in her joyous cares for +Lelechka, had forgotten Fedosya's words of the day before. + +But when she returned to the nursery, after having ordered the dinner, +and she heard Lelechka suddenly cry _"Tiu-tiu!"_ from under the table, +a feeling of fear suddenly took hold of her. Though she reproached +herself at once for this unfounded, superstitious dread, nevertheless +she could not enter wholeheartedly into the spirit of Lelechka's +favourite game, and she tried to divert Lelechka's attention to +something else. + +Lelechka was a lovely and obedient child. She eagerly complied with +her mother's new wishes. But as she had got into the habit of hiding +from her mother in some corner, and of crying out _"Tiu-tiu!"_ so even +that day she returned more than once to the game. + +Serafima Aleksandrovna tried desperately to amuse Lelechka. This was +not so easy because restless, threatening thoughts obtruded themselves +constantly. + +"Why does Lelechka keep on recalling the _tiu-tiu_? Why does she not +get tired of the same thing--of eternally closing her eyes, and of +hiding her face? Perhaps," thought Serafima Aleksandrovna, "she is not +as strongly drawn to the world as other children, who are attracted by +many things. If this is so, is it not a sign of organic weakness? Is +it not a germ of the unconscious non-desire to live?" + +Serafima Aleksandrovna was tormented by presentiments. She felt +ashamed of herself for ceasing to play hide and seek with Lelechka +before Fedosya. But this game had become agonising to her, all the +more agonising because she had a real desire to play it, and because +something drew her very strongly to hide herself from Lelechka and to +seek out the hiding child. Serafima Aleksandrovna herself began the +game once or twice, though she played it with a heavy heart. She +suffered as though committing an evil deed with full consciousness. + +It was a sad day for Serafima Aleksandrovna. + + + + +V + + +Lelechka was about to fall asleep. No sooner had she climbed into her +little bed, protected by a network on all sides, than her eyes began +to close from fatigue. Her mother covered her with a blue blanket. +Lelechka drew her sweet little hands from under the blanket and +stretched them out to embrace her mother. Her mother bent down. +Lelechka, with a tender expression on her sleepy face, kissed her +mother and let her head fall on the pillow. As her hands hid +themselves under the blanket Lelechka whispered: "The hands +_tiu-tiu!_" + +The mother's heart seemed to stop--Lelechka lay there so small, so +frail, so quiet. Lelechka smiled gently, closed her eyes and said +quietly: "The eyes _tiu-tiu!_" + +Then even more quietly: "Lelechka _tiu-tiu!_" + +With these words she fell asleep, her face pressing the pillow. She +seemed so small and so frail under the blanket that covered her. Her +mother looked at her with sad eyes. + +Serafima Aleksandrovna remained standing over Lelechka's bed a long +while, and she kept looking at Lelechka with tenderness and fear. + +"I'm a mother: is it possible that I shouldn't be able to protect +her?" she thought, as she imagined the various ills that might befall +Lelechka. + +She prayed long that night, but the prayer did not relieve her +sadness. + + + +VI + + +Several days passed. Lelechka caught cold. The fever came upon her at +night. When Serafima Aleksandrovna, awakened by Fedosya, came to +Lelechka and saw her looking so hot, so restless, and so tormented, +she instantly recalled the evil omen, and a hopeless despair took +possession of her from the first moments. + +A doctor was called, and everything was done that is usual on such +occasions--but the inevitable happened. Serafima Aleksandrovna tried +to console herself with the hope that Lelechka would get well, and +would again laugh and play--yet this seemed to her an unthinkable +happiness! And Lelechka grew feebler from hour to hour. + +All simulated tranquillity, so as not to frighten Serafima +Aleksandrovna, but their masked faces only made her sad. + +Nothing made her so unhappy as the reiterations of Fedosya, uttered +between sobs: "She hid herself and hid herself, our Lelechka!" + +But the thoughts of Serafima Aleksandrovna were confused, and she +could not quite grasp what was happening. + +Fever was consuming Lelechka, and there were times when she lost +consciousness and spoke in delirium. But when she returned to herself +she bore her pain and her fatigue with gentle good nature; she smiled +feebly at her _mamochka_, so that her _mamochka_ should not see how +much she suffered. Three days passed, torturing like a nightmare. +Lelechka grew quite feeble. She did not know that she was dying. + +She glanced at her mother with her dimmed eyes, and lisped in a +scarcely audible, hoarse voice: "_Tiu-tiu, mamochka!_ Make _tiu-tiu, +mamochka!_" + +Serafima Aleksandrovna hid her face behind the curtains near +Lelechka's bed. How tragic! + +"_Mamochka!_" called Lelechka in an almost inaudible voice. + +Lelechka's mother bent over her, and Lelechka, her vision grown still +more dim, saw her mother's pale, despairing face for the last time. + +"A white _mamochka_!" whispered Lelechka. + +_Mamochka's_ white face became blurred, and everything grew dark +before Lelechka. She caught the edge of the bed-cover feebly with her +hands and whispered: "_Tiu-tiu!_" + +Something rattled in her throat; Lelechka opened and again closed her +rapidly paling lips, and died. + +Serafima Aleksandrovna was in dumb despair as she left Lelechka, and +went out of the room. She met her husband. + +"Lelechka is dead," she said in a quiet, dull voice. + +Sergey Modestovich looked anxiously at her pale face. He was struck by +the strange stupor in her formerly animated handsome features. + + + +VII + + + +Lelechka was dressed, placed in a little coffin, and carried into the +parlour. Serafima Aicksandrovna was standing by the coffin and looking +dully at her dead child. Sergey Modestovich went to his wife and, +consoling her with cold, empty words, tried to draw her away from the +coffin. Seranma Aleksandrovna smiled. + +"Go away," she said quietly. "Lelechka is playing. She'll be up in a +minute." + +"Sima, my dear, don't agitate yourself," said Sergey Modestovich in a +whisper. "You must resign yourself to your fate." + +"She'll be up in a minute," persisted Serafima Aleksandrovna, her eyes +fixed on the dead little girl. + +Sergey Modestovich looked round him cautiously: he was afraid of the +unseemly and of the ridiculous. + +"Sima, don't agitate yourself," he repeated. "This would be a miracle, +and miracles do not happen in the nineteenth century." + +No sooner had he said these words than Sergey Modestovich felt their +irrelevance to what had happened. He was confused and annoyed. + +He took his wife by the arm, and cautiously led her away from the +coffin. She did not oppose him. + +Her face seemed tranquil and her eyes were dry. She went into the +nursery and began to walk round the room, looking into those places +where Lelechka used to hide herself. She walked all about the room, +and bent now and then to look under the table or under the bed, and +kept on repeating cheerfully: "Where is my little one? Where is my +Lelechka?" + +After she had walked round the room once she began to make her quest +anew. Fedosya, motionless, with dejected face, sat in a corner, and +looked frightened at her mistress; then she suddenly burst out +sobbing, and she wailed loudly: + +"She hid herself, and hid herself, our Lelechka, our angelic little +soul!" + +Serafima Aleksandrovna trembled, paused, cast a perplexed look at +Fedosya, began to weep, and left the nursery quietly. + + + +VIII + + + +Sergey Modestovich hurried the funeral. He saw that Serafima +Aleksandrovna. was terribly shocked by her sudden misfortune, and as +he feared for her reason he thought she would more readily be diverted +and consoled when Lelechka was buried. + +Next morning Serafima Aleksandrovna dressed with particular care--for +Lelechka. When she entered the parlour there were several people +between her and Lelechka. The priest and deacon paced up and down the +room; clouds of blue smoke drifted in the air, and there was a smell +of incense. There was an oppressive feeling of heaviness in Serafima +Aleksandrovna's head as she approached Lelechka. Lelechka lay there +still and pale, and smiled pathetically. Serafima Aleksandrovna laid +her cheek upon the edge of Lelechka's coffin, and whispered: +"_Tiu-tiu_, little one!" + +The little one did not reply. Then there was some kind of stir and +confusion around Serafima Aleksandrovna; strange, unnecessary faces +bent over her, some one held her--and Lelechka was carried away +somewhere. + +Serafima Aleksandrovna stood up erect, sighed in a lost way, smiled, +and called loudly: "Lelechka!" + +Lelechka was being carried out. The mother threw herself after the +coffin with despairing sobs, but she was held back. She sprang behind +the door, through which Lelechka had passed, sat down there on the +floor, and as she looked through the crevice, she cried out: +"Lelechka, _tiu-tiu!_" + +Then she put her head out from behind the door, and began to laugh. + +Lelechka was quickly carried away from her mother, and those who +carried her seemed to run rather than to walk. + + + + +DETHRONED + + + +BY I.N. POTAPENKO + + +"Well?" Captain Zarubkin's wife called out impatiently to her husband, +rising from the sofa and turning to face him as he entered. + +"He doesn't know anything about it," he replied indifferently, as if +the matter were of no interest to him. Then he asked in a businesslike +tone: "Nothing for me from the office?" + +"Why should I know? Am I your errand boy?" + +"How they dilly-dally! If only the package doesn't come too late. It's +so important!" + +"Idiot!" + +"Who's an idiot?" + +"You, with your indifference, your stupid egoism." + +The captain said nothing. He was neither surprised nor insulted. On +the contrary, the smile on his face was as though he had received a +compliment. These wifely animadversions, probably oft-heard, by no +means interfered with his domestic peace. + +"It can't be that the man doesn't know when his wife is coming back +home," Mrs. Zarubkin continued excitedly. "She's written to him every +day of the four months that she's been away. The postmaster told me +so." + +"Semyonov! Ho, Semyonov! Has any one from the office been here?" + +"I don't know, your Excellency," came in a loud, clear voice from back +of the room. + +"Why don't you know? Where have you been?" + +"I went to Abramka, your Excellency." + +"The tailor again?" + +"Yes, your Excellency, the tailor Abramka." + +The captain spat in annoyance. + +"And where is Krynka?" + +"He went to market, your Excellency." + +"Was he told to go to market?" + +"Yes, your Excellency." + +The captain spat again. + +"Why do you keep spitting? Such vulgar manners!" his wife cried +angrily. "You behave at home like a drunken subaltern. You haven't the +least consideration for your wife. You are so coarse in your behaviour +towards me! Do, please, go to your office." + +"Semyonov." + +"Your Excellency?" + +"If the package comes, please have it sent back to the office and say +I've gone there. And listen! Some one must always be here. I won't +have everybody out of the house at the same time. Do you hear?" + +"Yes, your Excellency." + +The captain put on his cap to go. In the doorway he turned and +addressed his wife. + +"Please, Tasya, please don't send all the servants on your errands at +the same time. Something important may turn up, and then there's +nobody here to attend to it." + +He went out, and his wife remained reclining in the sofa corner as if +his plea were no concern of hers. But scarcely had he left the house, +when she called out: + +"Semyonov, come here. Quick!" + +A bare-footed unshaven man in dark blue pantaloons and cotton shirt +presented himself. His stocky figure and red face made a wholesome +appearance. He was the Captain's orderly. + +"At your service, your Excellency." + +"Listen, Semyonov, you don't seem to be stupid." + +"I don't know, your Excellency." + +"For goodness' sake, drop 'your Excellency.' I am not your superior +officer." + +"Yes, your Excel--" + +"Idiot!" + +But the lady's manner toward the servant was far friendlier than +toward her husband. Semyonov had it in his power to perform important +services for her, while the captain had not come up to her +expectations. + +"Listen, Semyonov, how do you and the doctor's men get along together? +Are you friendly?" + +"Yes, your Excellency." + +"Intolerable!" cried the lady, jumping up. "Stop using that silly +title. Can't you speak like a sensible man?" + +Semyonov had been standing in the stiff attitude of attention, with +the palms of his hands at the seams of his trousers. Now he suddenly +relaxed, and even wiped his nose with his fist. + +"That's the way we are taught to do," he said carelessly, with a +clownish grin. "The gentlemen, the officers, insist on it." + +"Now, tell me, you are on good terms with the doctor's men?" + +"You mean Podmar and Shuchok? Of course, we're friends." + +"Very well, then go straight to them and try to find out when Mrs. +Shaldin is expected back. They ought to know. They must be getting +things ready against her return--cleaning her bedroom and fixing it +up. Do you understand? But be careful to find out right. And also be +very careful not to let on for whom you are finding it out. Do you +understand?' + +"Of course, I understand." + +"Well, then, go. But one more thing. Since you're going out, you may +as well stop at Abramka's again and tell him to come here right away. +You understand?" + +"But his Excellency gave me orders to stay at home," said Semyonov, +scratching himself behind his ears. + +"Please don't answer back. Just do as I tell you. Go on, now." + +"At your service." And the orderly, impressed by the lady's severe +military tone, left the room. + +Mrs. Zarubkin remained reclining on the sofa for a while. Then she +rose and walked up and down the room and finally went to her bedroom, +where her two little daughters were playing in their nurse's care. She +scolded them a bit and returned to her former place on the couch. Her +every movement betrayed great excitement. + + * * * * * + +Tatyana Grigoryevna Zarubkin was one of the most looked-up to ladies +of the S---- Regiment and even of the whole town of Chmyrsk, where the +regiment was quartered. To be sure, you hardly could say that, outside +the regiment, the town could boast any ladies at all. There were very +respectable women, decent wives, mothers, daughters and widows of +honourable citizens; but they all dressed in cotton and flannel, and +on high holidays made a show of cheap Cashmere gowns over which they +wore gay shawls with borders of wonderful arabesques. Their hats and +other headgear gave not the faintest evidence of good taste. So they +could scarcely be dubbed "ladies." They were satisfied to be called +"women." Each one of them, almost, had the name of her husband's trade +or position tacked to her name--Mrs. Grocer so-and-so, Mrs. Mayor +so-and-so, Mrs. Milliner so-and-so, etc. Genuine _ladies_ in the +Russian society sense had never come to the town before the +S----Regiment had taken up its quarters there; and it goes without +saying that the ladies of the regiment had nothing in common, and +therefore no intercourse with, the women of the town. They were so +dissimilar that they were like creatures of a different species. + +There is no disputing that Tatyana Grigoryevna Zarubkin was one of the +most looked-up-to of the ladies. She invariably played the most +important part at all the regimental affairs--the amateur theatricals, +the social evenings, the afternoon teas. If the captain's wife was not +to be present, it was a foregone conclusion that the affair would not +be a success. + +The most important point was that Mrs. Zarubkin had the untarnished +reputation of being the best-dressed of all the ladies. She was always +the most distinguished looking at the annual ball. Her gown for the +occasion, ordered from Moscow, was always chosen with the greatest +regard for her charms and defects, and it was always exquisitely +beautiful. A new fashion could not gain admittance to the other ladies +of the regiment except by way of the captain's wife. Thanks to her +good taste in dressing, the stately blonde was queen at all the balls +and in all the salons of Chmyrsk. Another advantage of hers was that +although she was nearly forty she still looked fresh and youthful, so +that the young officers were constantly hovering about her and paying +her homage. + +November was a very lively month in the regiment's calendar. It was on +the tenth of November that the annual ball took place. The ladies, of +course, spent their best efforts in preparation for this event. +Needless to say that in these arduous activities, Abramka Stiftik, the +ladies' tailor, played a prominent role. He was the one man in Chmyrsk +who had any understanding at all for the subtle art of the feminine +toilet. Preparations had begun in his shop in August already. Within +the last weeks his modest parlour--furnished with six shabby chairs +placed about a round table, and a fly-specked mirror on the wall--the +atmosphere heavy with a smell of onions and herring, had been filled +from early morning to the evening hours with the most charming and +elegant of the fairer sex. There was trying-on and discussion of +styles and selection of material. It was all very nerve-racking for +the ladies. + +The only one who had never appeared in this parlour was the captain's +wife. That had been a thorn in Abramka's flesh. He had spent days and +nights going over in his mind how he could rid this lady of the, in +his opinion, wretched habit of ordering her clothes from Moscow. For +this ball, however, as she herself had told him, she had not ordered a +dress but only material from out of town, from which he deduced that +he was to make the gown for her. But there was only one week left +before the ball, and still she had not come to him. Abramka was in a +state of feverishness. He longed once to make a dress for Mrs. +Zarubkin. It would add to his glory. He wanted to prove that he +understood his trade just as well as any tailor in Moscow, and that it +was quite superfluous for her to order her gowns outside of Chmyrsk. +He would come out the triumphant competitor of Moscow. + +As each day passed and Mrs. Zarubkin did not appear in his shop, his +nervousness increased. Finally she ordered a dressing-jacket from +him--but not a word said of a ball gown. What was he to think of it? + +So, when Semyonov told him that Mrs. Zarubkin was expecting him at her +home, it goes without saying that he instantly removed the dozen pins +in his mouth, as he was trying on a customer's dress, told one of his +assistants to continue with the fitting, and instantly set off to call +on the captain's wife. In this case, it was not a question of a mere +ball gown, but of the acquisition of the best customer in town. + +Although Abramka wore a silk hat and a suit in keeping with the silk +hat, still he was careful not to ring at the front entrance, but +always knocked at the back door. At another time when the captain's +orderly was not in the house--for the captain's orderly also performed +the duties of the captain's cook--he might have knocked long and loud. +On other occasions a cannon might have been shot off right next to +Tatyana Grigoryevna's ears and she would not have lifted her fingers +to open the door. But now she instantly caught the sound of the modest +knocking and opened the back door herself for Abramka. + +"Oh!" she cried delightedly. "You, Abramka!" + +She really wanted to address him less familiarly, as was more +befitting so dignified a man in a silk hat; but everybody called him +"Abramka," and he would have been very much surprised had he been +honoured with his full name, Abram Srulevich Stiftik. So she thought +it best to address him as the others did. + +Mr. "Abramka" was tall and thin. There was always a melancholy +expression in his pale face. He had a little stoop, a long and very +heavy greyish beard. He had been practising his profession for thirty +years. Ever since his apprenticeship he had been called "Abramka," +which did not strike him as at all derogatory or unfitting. Even his +shingle read: "Ladies' Tailor: Abramka Stiftik"--the most valid proof +that he deemed his name immaterial, but that the chief thing to him +was his art. As a matter of fact, he had attained, if not perfection +in tailoring, yet remarkable skill. To this all the ladies of the +S---- Regiment could attest with conviction. + +Abramka removed his silk hat, stepped into the kitchen, and said +gravely, with profound feeling: + +"Mrs. Zarubkin, I am entirely at your service." + +"Come into the reception room. I have something very important to +speak to you about." + +Abramka followed in silence. He stepped softly on tiptoe, as if afraid +of waking some one. + +"Sit down, Abramka, listen--but give me your word of honour, you won't +tell any one?" Tatyana Grigoryevna began, reddening a bit. She was +ashamed to have to let the tailor Abramka into her secret, but since +there was no getting around it, she quieted herself and in an instant +had regained her ease. + +"I don't know what you are speaking of, Mrs. Zarubkin," Abramka +rejoined. He assumed a somewhat injured manner. "Have you ever heard +of Abramka ever babbling anything out? You certainly know that in my +profession--you know everybody has some secret to be kept." + +"Oh, you must have misunderstood me, Abramka. What sort of secrets do +you mean?" + +"Well, one lady is a little bit one-sided, another lady"--he pointed +to his breast--"is not quite full enough, another lady has scrawny +arms--such things as that have to be covered up or filled out or laced +in, so as to look better. That is where our art comes in. But we are +in duty bound not to say anything about it." + +Tatyana Grigoryevna smiled. + +"Well, I can assure you I am all right that way. There is nothing +about me that needs to be covered up or filled out." + +"Oh, as if I didn't know that! Everybody knows that Mrs. Zarubkin's +figure is perfect," Abramka cried, trying to flatter his new customer. + +Mrs. Zarubkin laughed and made up her mind to remember "Everybody +knows that Mrs. Zarubkin's figure is perfect." Then she said: + +"You know that the ball is to take place in a week." + +"Yes, indeed, Mrs. Zarubkin, in only one week; unfortunately, only one +week," replied Abramka, sighing. + +"But you remember your promise to make my dress for me for the ball +this time?" + +"Mrs. Zarubkin," Abramka cried, laying his hand on his heart. "Have I +said that I was not willing to make it? No, indeed, I said it must be +made and made right--for Mrs. Zarubkin, it must be better than for any +one else. That's the way I feel about it." + +"Splendid! Just what I wanted to know." + +"But why don't you show me your material? Why don't you say to me, +'Here, Abramka, here is the stuff, make a dress?' Abramka would work +on it day and night." + +"Ahem, that's just it--I can't order it. That is where the trouble +comes in. Tell me, Abramka, what is the shortest time you need for +making the dress? Listen, the very shortest?" + +Abramka shrugged his shoulders. + +"Well, is a week too much for a ball dress such as you will want? It's +got to be sewed, it can't be pasted together, You, yourself, know +that, Mrs. Zarubkin." + +"But supposing I order it only three days before the ball?" + +Abramka started. + +"Only three days before the ball? A ball dress? Am I a god, Mrs. +Zarubkin? I am nothing but the ladies' tailor, Abramka Stiftik." + +"Well, then you are a nice tailor!" said Tatyana Grigoryevna, +scornfully. "In Moscow they made a ball dress for me in two days." + +Abramka jumped up as if at a shot, and beat his breast. + +"Is that so? Then I say, Mrs. Zarubkin," he cried pathetically, "if +they made a ball gown for you in Moscow in two days, very well, then I +will make a ball gown for you, if I must, in one day. I will neither +eat nor sleep, and I won't let my help off either for one minute. How +does that suit you?" + +"Sit down, Abramka, thank you very much. I hope I shall not have to +put such a strain on you. It really does not depend upon me, otherwise +I should have ordered the dress from you long ago." + +"It doesn't depend upon you? Then upon whom does it depend?" + +"Ahem, it depends upon--but now, Abramka, remember this is just +between you and me--it depends upon Mrs. Shaldin." + +"Upon Mrs. Shaldin, the doctor's wife? Why she isn't even here." + +"That's just it. That is why I have to wait. How is it that a clever +man like you, Abramka, doesn't grasp the situation?" + +"Hm, hm! Let me see." Abramka racked his brains for a solution of the +riddle. How could it be that Mrs. Shaldin, who was away, should have +anything to do with Mrs. Zarubkin's order for a gown? No, that passed +his comprehension. + +"She certainly will get back in time for the ball," said Mrs. +Zarubkin, to give him a cue. + +"Well, yes." + +"And certainly will bring a dress back with her." + +"Certainly!" + +"A dress from abroad, something we have never seen here--something +highly original." + +"Mrs. Zarubkin!" Abramka cried, as if a truth of tremendous import had +been revealed to him. "Mrs. Zarubkin, I understand. Why certainly! +Yes, but that will be pretty hard." + +"That's just it." + +Abramka reflected a moment, then said: + +"I assure you, Mrs. Zarubkin, you need not be a bit uneasy. I will +make a dress for you that will be just as grand as the one from +abroad. I assure you, your dress will be the most elegant one at the +ball, just as it always has been. I tell you, my name won't be Abramka +Stiftik if--" + +His eager asseverations seemed not quite to satisfy the captain's +wife. Her mind was not quite set at ease. She interrupted him. + +"But the style, Abramka, the style! You can't possibly guess what the +latest fashion is abroad." + +"Why shouldn't I know what the latest fashion is, Mrs. Zarubkin? In +Kiev I have a friend who publishes fashion-plates. I will telegraph to +him, and he will immediately send me pictures of the latest French +models. The telegram will cost only eighty cents, Mrs. Zarubkin, and I +swear to you I will copy any dress he sends. Mrs. Shaldin can't +possibly have a dress like that." + +"All very well and good, and that's what we'll do. Still we must wait +until Mrs. Shaldin comes back. Don't you see, Abramka, I must have +exactly the same style that she has? Can't you see, so that nobody can +say that she is in the latest fashion?" + +At this point Semyonov entered the room cautiously. He was wearing the +oddest-looking jacket and the captain's old boots. His hair was +rumpled, and his eyes were shining suspiciously. There was every sign +that he had used the renewal of friendship with the doctor's men as a +pretext for a booze. + +"I had to stand them some brandy, your Excellency," he said saucily, +but catching his mistress's threatening look, he lowered his head +guiltily. + +"Idiot," she yelled at him, "face about. Be off with you to the +kitchen." + +In his befuddlement, Semyonov had not noticed Abramka's presence. Now +he became aware of him, faced about and retired to the kitchen +sheepishly. + +"What an impolite fellow," said Abramka reproachfully. + +"Oh, you wouldn't believe--" said the captain's wife, but instantly +followed Semyonov into the kitchen. + +Semyonov aware of his awful misdemeanour, tried to stand up straight +and give a report. + +"She will come back, your Excellency, day after to-morrow toward +evening. She sent a telegram." + +"Is that true now?" + +"I swear it's true. Shuchok saw it himself." + +"All right, very good. You will get something for this." + +"Yes, your Excellency." + +"Silence, you goose. Go on, set the table." + +Abramka remained about ten minutes longer with the captain's wife, and +on leaving said: + +"Let me assure you once again, Mrs. Zarubkin, you needn't worry; just +select the style, and I will make a gown for you that the best tailor +in Paris can't beat." He pressed his hand to his heart in token of his +intention to do everything in his power for Mrs. Zarubkin. + + * * * * * + +It was seven o'clock in the evening. Mrs. Shaldin and her trunk had +arrived hardly half an hour before, yet the captain's wife was already +there paying visit; which was a sign of the warm friendship that +existed between the two women. They kissed each other and fell to +talking. The doctor, a tall man of forty-five, seemed discomfited by +the visit, and passed unfriendly side glances at his guest. He had +hoped to spend that evening undisturbed with his wife, and he well +knew that when the ladies of the regiment came to call upon each other +"for only a second," it meant a whole evening of listening to idle +talk. + +"You wouldn't believe me, dear, how bored I was the whole time you +were away, how I longed for you, Natalie Semyonovna. But you probably +never gave us a thought." + +"Oh, how can you say anything like that. I was thinking of you every +minute, every second. If I hadn't been obliged to finish the cure, I +should have returned long ago. No matter how beautiful it may be away +from home, still the only place to live is among those that are near +and dear to you." + +These were only the preliminary soundings. They lasted with variations +for a quarter of an hour. First Mrs. Shaldin narrated a few incidents +of the trip, then Mrs. Zarubkin gave a report of some of the chief +happenings in the life of the regiment. When the conversation was in +full swing, and the samovar was singing on the table, and the pancakes +were spreading their appetising odour, the captain's wife suddenly +cried: + +"I wonder what the fashions are abroad now. I say, you must have +feasted your eyes on them!" + +Mrs. Shaldin simply replied with a scornful gesture. + +"Other people may like them, but I don't care for them one bit. I am +glad we here don't get to see them until a year later. You know, +Tatyana Grigoryevna, you sometimes see the ugliest styles." + +"Really?" asked the captain's wife eagerly, her eyes gleaming with +curiosity. The great moment of complete revelation seemed to have +arrived. + +"Perfectly hideous, I tell you. Just imagine, you know how nice the +plain skirts were. Then why change them? But no, to be in style now, +the skirts have to be draped. Why? It is just a sign of complete lack +of imagination. And in Lyons they got out a new kind of silk--but that +is still a French secret." + +"Why a secret? The silk is certainly being worn already?" + +"Yes, one does see it being worn already, but when it was first +manufactured, the greatest secret was made of it. They were afraid the +Germans would imitate. You understand?" + +"Oh, but what is the latest style?" + +"I really can't explain it to you. All I know is, it is something +awful." + +"She can't explain! That means she doesn't want to explain. Oh, the +cunning one. What a sly look she has in her eyes." So thought the +captain's wife. From the very beginning of the conversation, the two +warm friends, it need scarcely be said, were mutually distrustful. +Each had the conviction that everything the other said was to be taken +in the very opposite sense. They were of about the same age, Mrs. +Shaldin possibly one or two years younger than Mrs. Zarubkin. Mrs. +Zarubkin was rather plump, and had heavy light hair. Her appearance +was blooming. Mrs. Shaldin was slim, though well proportioned. She was +a brunette with a pale complexion and large dark eyes. They were two +types of beauty very likely to divide the gentlemen of the regiment +into two camps of admirers. But women are never content with halves. +Mrs. Zarubkin wanted to see all the officers of the regiment at her +feet, and so did Mrs. Shaldin. It naturally led to great rivalry +between the two women, of which they were both conscious, though they +always had the friendliest smiles for each other. + +Mrs. Shaldin tried to give a different turn to the conversation. + +"Do you think the ball will be interesting this year?" + +"Why should it be interesting?" rejoined the captain's wife +scornfully. "Always the same people, the same old humdrum jog-trot." + +"I suppose the ladies have been besieging our poor Abramka?" + +"I really can't tell you. So far as I am concerned, I have scarcely +looked at what he made for me." + +"Hm, how's that? Didn't you order your dress from Moscow again?" + +"No, it really does not pay. I am sick of the bother of it all. Why +all that trouble? For whom? Our officers don't care a bit how one +dresses. They haven't the least taste." + +"Hm, there's something back of that," thought Mrs. Shaldin. + +The captain's wife continued with apparent indifference: + +"I can guess what a gorgeous dress you had made abroad. Certainly in +the latest fashion?" + +"I?" Mrs. Shaldin laughed innocently. "How could I get the time during +my cure to think of a dress? As a matter of fact, I completely forgot +the ball, thought of it at the last moment, and bought the first piece +of goods I laid my hands on." + +"Pink?" + +"Oh, no. How can you say pink!" + +"Light blue, then?" + +"You can't call it exactly light blue. It is a very undefined sort of +colour. I really wouldn't know what to call it." + +"But it certainly must have some sort of a shade?" + +"You may believe me or not if you choose, but really I don't know. +It's a very indefinite shade." + +"Is it Sura silk?" + +"No, I can't bear Sura. It doesn't keep the folds well." + +"I suppose it is crepe de Chine?" + +"Heavens, no! Crepe de Chine is much too expensive for me." + +"Then what can it be?" + +"Oh, wait a minute, what _is_ the name of that goods? You know there +are so many funny new names now. They don't make any sense." + +"Then show me your dress, dearest. Do please show me your dress." + +Mrs. Shaldin seemed to be highly embarrassed. + +"I am so sorry I can't. It is way down at the bottom of the trunk. +There is the trunk. You see yourself I couldn't unpack it now." + +The trunk, close to the wall, was covered with oil cloth and tied +tight with heavy cords. The captain's wife devoured it with her eyes. +She would have liked to see through and through it. She had nothing to +say in reply, because it certainly was impossible to ask her friend, +tired out from her recent journey, to begin to unpack right away and +take out all her things just to show her her new dress. Yet she could +not tear her eyes away from the trunk. There was a magic in it that +held her enthralled. Had she been alone she would have begun to unpack +it herself, nor even have asked the help of a servant to undo the +knots. Now there was nothing left for her but to turn her eyes +sorrowfully away from the fascinating object and take up another topic +of conversation to which she would be utterly indifferent. But she +couldn't think of anything else to talk about. Mrs. Shaldin must have +prepared herself beforehand. She must have suspected something. So now +Mrs. Zarubkin pinned her last hope to Abramka's inventiveness. She +glanced at the clock. + +"Dear me," she exclaimed, as if surprised at the lateness of the hour. +"I must be going. I don't want to disturb you any longer either, +dearest. You must be very tired. I hope you rest well." + +She shook hands with Mrs. Shaldin, kissed her and left. + + * * * * * + +Abramka Stiftik had just taken off his coat and was doing some ironing +in his shirt sleeves, when a peculiar figure appeared in his shop. It +was that of a stocky orderly in a well-worn uniform without buttons +and old galoshes instead of boots. His face was gloomy-looking and was +covered with a heavy growth of hair. Abramka knew this figure well. It +seemed always just to have been awakened from the deepest sleep. + +"Ah, Shuchok, what do you want?" + +"Mrs. Shaldin would like you to call upon her," said Shuchok. He +behaved as if he had come on a terribly serious mission. + +"Ah, that's so, your lady has come back. I heard about it. You see I +am very busy. Still you may tell her I am coming right away. I just +want to finish ironing Mrs. Konopotkin's dress." + +Abramka simply wanted to keep up appearances, as always when he was +sent for. But his joy at the summons to Mrs. Shaldin was so great that +to the astonishment of his helpers and Shuchok he left immediately. + +He found Mrs. Shaldin alone. She had not slept well the two nights +before and had risen late that morning. Her husband had left long +before for the Military Hospital. She was sitting beside her open +trunk taking her things out very carefully. + +"How do you do, Mrs. Shaldin? Welcome back to Chmyrsk. I congratulate +you on your happy arrival." + +"Oh, how do you do, Abramka?" said Mrs. Shaldin delightedly; "we +haven't seen each other for a long time, have we? I was rather +homesick for you." + +"Oh, Mrs. Shaldin, you must have had a very good time abroad. But what +do you need me for? You certainly brought a dress back with you?" + +"Abramka always comes in handy," said Mrs. Shaldin jestingly. "We +ladies of the regiment are quite helpless without Abramka. Take a +seat." + +Abramka seated himself. He felt much more at ease in Mrs. Shaldin's +home than in Mrs. Zarubkin's. Mrs. Shaldin did not order her clothes +from Moscow. She was a steady customer of his. In this room he had +many a time circled about the doctor's wife with a yard measure, pins, +chalk and scissors, had kneeled down beside her, raised himself to his +feet, bent over again and stood puzzling over some difficult problem +of dressmaking--how low to cut the dress out at the neck, how long to +make the train, how wide the hem, and so on. None of the ladies of the +regiment ordered as much from him as Mrs. Shaldin. Her grandmother +would send her material from Kiev or the doctor would go on a +professional trip to Chernigov and always bring some goods back with +him; or sometimes her aunt in Voronesh would make her a gift of some +silk. + +"Abramka is always ready to serve Mrs. Shaldin first," said the +tailor, though seized with a little pang, as if bitten by a guilty +conscience. + +"Are you sure you are telling the truth? Is Abramka always to be +depended upon? Eh, is he?" She looked at him searchingly from beneath +drooping lids. + +"What a question," rejoined Abramka. His face quivered slightly. His +feeling of discomfort was waxing. "Has Abramka ever--" + +"Oh, things can happen. But, all right, never mind. I brought a dress +along with me. I had to have it made in a great hurry, and there is +just a little more to be done on it. Now if I give you this dress to +finish, can I be sure that you positively won't tell another soul how +it is made?" + +"Mrs. Shaldin, oh, Mrs. Shaldin," said Abramka reproachfully. +Nevertheless, the expression of his face was not so reassuring as +usual. + +"You give me your word of honour?" + +"Certainly! My name isn't Abramka Stiftik if I--" + +"Well, all right, I will trust you. But be careful. You know of whom +you must be careful?" + +"Who is that, Mrs. Shaldin?" + +"Oh, you know very well whom I mean. No, you needn't put your hand on +your heart. She was here to see me yesterday and tried in every way +she could to find out how my dress is made. But she couldn't get it +out of me." Abramka sighed. Mrs. Shaldin seemed to suspect his +betrayal. "I am right, am I not? She has not had her dress made yet, +has she? She waited to see my dress, didn't she? And she told you to +copy the style, didn't she?" Mrs, Shaldin asked with honest naivete. +"But I warn you, Abramka, if you give away the least little thing +about my dress, then all is over between you and me. Remember that." + +Abramka's hand went to his heart again, and the gesture carried the +same sense of conviction as of old. + +"Mrs. Shaldin, how can you speak like that?" + +"Wait a moment." + +Mrs. Shaldin left the room. About ten minutes passed during which +Abramka had plenty of time to reflect. How could he have given the +captain's wife a promise like that so lightly? What was the captain's +wife to him as compared with the doctor's wife? Mrs. Zarubkin had +never given him a really decent order--just a few things for the house +and some mending. Supposing he were now to perform this great service +for her, would that mean that he could depend upon her for the future? +Was any woman to be depended upon? She would wear this dress out and +go back to ordering her clothes from Moscow again. But _Mrs. Shaldin_, +she was very different. He could forgive her having brought this one +dress along from abroad. What woman in Russia would have refrained, +when abroad, from buying a new dress? Mrs. Shaldin would continue to +be his steady customer all the same. + +The door opened. Abramka rose involuntarily, and clasped his hands in +astonishment. + +"Well," he exclaimed rapturously, "that is a dress, that is--My, my!" +He was so stunned he could find nothing more to say. And how charming +Mrs. Shaldin looked in her wonderful gown! Her tall slim figure seemed +to have been made for it. What simple yet elegant lines. At first +glance you would think it was nothing more than an ordinary +house-gown, but only at first glance. If you looked at it again, you +could tell right away that it met all the requirements of a fancy +ball-gown. What struck Abramka most was that it had no waist line, +that it did not consist of bodice and skirt. That was strange. It was +just caught lightly together under the bosom, which it brought out in +relief. Draped over the whole was a sort of upper garment of exquisite +old-rose lace embroidered with large silk flowers, which fell from the +shoulders and broadened out in bold superb lines. The dress was cut +low and edged with a narrow strip of black down around the bosom, +around the bottom of the lace drapery, and around the hem of the +skirt. A wonderful fan of feathers to match the down edging gave the +finishing touch. + +"Well, how do you like it, Abramka!" asked Mrs. Shaldin with a +triumphant smile. + +"Glorious, glorious! I haven't the words at my command. What a dress! +No, I couldn't make a dress like that. And how beautifully it fits +you, as if you had been born in it, Mrs. Shaldin. What do you call the +style?" + +"Empire." + +"Ampeer?" he queried. "Is that a new style? Well, well, what people +don't think of. Tailors like us might just as well throw our needles +and scissors away." + +"Now, listen, Abramka, I wouldn't have shown it to you if there were +not this sewing to be done on it. You are the only one who will have +seen it before the ball. I am not even letting my husband look at it." + +"Oh, Mrs. Shaldin, you can rely upon me as upon a rock. But after the +ball may I copy it?" + +"Oh, yes, after the ball copy it as much as you please, but not now, +not for anything in the world." + +There were no doubts in Abramka's mind when he left the doctor's +house. He had arrived at his decision. That superb creation had +conquered him. It would be a piece of audacity on his part, he felt, +even to think of imitating such a gown. Why, it was not a gown. It was +a dream, a fantastic vision--without a bodice, without puffs or frills +or tawdry trimmings of any sort. Simplicity itself and yet so chic. + +Back in his shop he opened the package of fashion-plates that had just +arrived from Kiev. He turned the pages and stared in astonishment. +What was that? Could he trust his eyes? An Empire gown. There it was, +with the broad voluptuous drapery of lace hanging from the shoulders +and the edging of down. Almost exactly the same thing as Mrs. +Shaldin's. + +He glanced up and saw Semyonov outside the window. He had certainly +come to fetch him to the captain's wife, who must have ordered him to +watch the tailor's movements, and must have learned that he had just +been at Mrs. Shaldin's. Semyonov entered and told him his mistress +wanted to sec him right away. + +Abramks slammed the fashion magazine shut as if afraid that Semyonov +might catch a glimpse of the new Empire fashion and give the secret +away. + +"I will come immediately," he said crossly. + +He picked up his fashion plates, put the yard measure in his pocket, +rammed his silk hat sorrowfully on his head and set off for the +captain's house. He found Mrs. Zarubkin pacing the room excitedly, +greeted her, but carefully avoided meeting her eyes. + +"Well, what did you find out?" + +"Nothing, Mrs. Zarubkin," said Abramka dejectedly. "Unfortunately I +couldn't find out a thing." + +"Idiot! I have no patience with you. Where are the fashion plates?" + +"Here, Mrs. Zarubkin." + +She turned the pages, looked at one picture after the other, and +suddenly her eyes shone and her cheeks reddened. + +"Oh, Empire! The very thing. Empire is the very latest. Make this one +for me," she cried commandingly. + +Abramka turned pale. + +"Ampeer, Mrs. Zarubkin? I can't make that Ampeer dress for you," he +murmured. + +"Why not?" asked the captain's wife, giving him a searching look. + +"Because--because--I can't." + +"Oh--h--h, you can't? You know why you can't. Because that is the +style of Mrs. Shaldin's dress. So that is the reliability you boast so +about? Great!" + +"Mrs. Zarubkin, I will make any other dress you choose, but it is +absolutely impossible for me to make this one." + +"I don't need your fashion plates, do you hear me? Get out of here, +and don't ever show your face again." + +"Mrs. Zarubkin, I--" + +"Get out of here," repeated the captain's wife, quite beside herself. + +The poor tailor stuck his yard measure, which he had already taken +out, back into his pocket and left. + +Half an hour later the captain's wife was entering a train for Kiev, +carrying a large package which contained material for a dress. The +captain had accompanied her to the station with a pucker in his +forehead. That was five days before the ball. + + * * * * * + +At the ball two expensive Empire gowns stood out conspicuously from +among the more or less elegant gowns which had been finished in the +shop of Abramka Stiftik, Ladies' Tailor. The one gown adorned Mrs. +Shaldin's figure, the other the figure of the captain's wife. + +Mrs. Zarubkin had bought her gown ready made at Kiev, and had returned +only two hours before the beginning of the ball. She had scarcely had +time to dress. Perhaps it would have been better had she not appeared +at this one of the annual balls, had she not taken that fateful trip +to Kiev. For in comparison with the make and style of Mrs. Shaldin's +dress, which had been brought abroad, hers was like the botched +imitation of an amateur. + +That was evident to everybody, though the captain's wife had her +little group of partisans, who maintained with exaggerated eagerness +that she looked extraordinarily fascinating in her dress and Mrs. +Shaldin still could not rival her. But there was no mistaking it, +there was little justice in this contention. Everybody knew better; +what was worst of all, Mrs. Zarubkin herself knew better. Mrs. +Shaldin's triumph was complete. + +The two ladies gave each other the same friendly smiles as always, but +one of them was experiencing the fine disdain and the derision of the +conqueror, while the other was burning inside with the furious +resentment of a dethroned goddess--goddess of the annual ball. + +From that time on Abramka cautiously avoided passing the captain's +house. + + + + +THE SERVANT + + + +BY S.T. SEMYONOV + + + +I + + +Gerasim returned to Moscow just at a time when it was hardest to find +work, a short while before Christmas, when a man sticks even to a poor +job in the expectation of a present. For three weeks the peasant lad +had been going about in vain seeking a position. + +He stayed with relatives and friends from his village, and although he +had not yet suffered great want, it disheartened him that he, a strong +young man, should go without work. + +Gerasim had lived in Moscow from early boyhood. When still a mere +child, he had gone to work in a brewery as bottle-washer, and later as +a lower servant in a house. In the last two years he had been in a +merchant's employ, and would still have held that position, had he not +been summoned back to his village for military duty. However, he had +not been drafted. It seemed dull to him in the village, he was not +used to the country life, so he decided he would rather count the +stones in Moscow than stay there. + +Every minute it was getting to be more and more irk-some for him to be +tramping the streets in idleness. Not a stone did he leave unturned in +his efforts to secure any sort of work. He plagued all of his +acquaintances, he even held up people on the street and asked them if +they knew of a situation--all in vain. + +Finally Gerasim could no longer bear being a burden on his people. +Some of them were annoyed by his coming to them; and others had +suffered unpleasantness from their masters on his account. He was +altogether at a loss what to do. Sometimes he would go a whole day +without eating. + + + +II + + +One day Gerasim betook himself to a friend from his village, who lived +at the extreme outer edge of Moscow, near Sokolnik. The man was +coachman to a merchant by the name of Sharov, in whose service he had +been for many years. He had ingratiated himself with his master, so +that Sharov trusted him absolutely and gave every sign of holding him +in high favour. It was the man's glib tongue, chiefly, that had gained +him his master's confidence. He told on all the servants, and Sharov +valued him for it. + +Gerasim approached and greeted him. The coachman gave his guest a +proper reception, served him with tea and something to eat, and asked +him how he was doing. + +"Very badly, Yegor Danilych," said Gerasim. "I've been without a job +for weeks." + +"Didn't you ask your old employer to take you back?" + +"I did." + +"He wouldn't take you again?" + +"The position was filled already." + +"That's it. That's the way you young fellows are. You serve your +employers so-so, and when you leave your jobs, you usually have +muddied up the way back to them. You ought to serve your masters so +that they will think a lot of you, and when you come again, they will +not refuse you, but rather dismiss the man who has taken your place." + +"How can a man do that? In these days there aren't any employers like +that, and we aren't exactly angels, either." + +"What's the use of wasting words? I just want to tell you about +myself. If for some reason or other I should ever have to leave this +place and go home, not only would Mr. Sharov, if I came back, take me +on again without a word, but he would be glad to, too." + +Gerasim sat there downcast. He saw his friend was boasting, and it +occurred to him to gratify him. + +"I know it," he said. "But it's hard to find men like you, Yegor +Danilych. If you were a poor worker, your master would not have kept +you twelve years." + +Yegor smiled. He liked the praise. + +"That's it," he said. "If you were to live and serve as I do, you +wouldn't be out of work for months and months." + +Gerasim made no reply. + +Yegor was summoned to his master. + +"Wait a moment," he said to Gerasim. "I'll be right back." + +"Very well." + + + +III + + +Yegor came back and reported that inside of half an hour he would have +to have the horses harnessed, ready to drive his master to town. He +lighted his pipe and took several turns in the room. Then he came to a +halt in front of Gerasim. + +"Listen, my boy," he said, "if you want, I'll ask my master to take +you as a servant here." + +"Does he need a man?" + +"We have one, but he's not much good. He's getting old, and it's very +hard for him to do the work. It's lucky for us that the neighbourhood +isn't a lively one and the police don't make a fuss about things being +kept just so, else the old man couldn't manage to keep the place clean +enough for them." + +"Oh, if you can, then please do say a word for me, Yegor Danilych. +I'll pray for you all my life. I can't stand being without work any +longer." + +"All right, I'll speak for you. Come again to-morrow, and in the +meantime take this ten-kopek piece. It may come in handy." + +"Thanks, Yegor Danilych. Then you _will_ try for me? Please do me the +favour." + +"All right. I'll try for you." + +Gerasim left, and Yegor harnessed up his horses. Then he put on his +coachman's habit, and drove up to the front door. Mr. Sharov stepped +out of the house, seated himself in the sleigh, and the horses +galloped off. He attended to his business in town and returned home. +Yegor, observing that his master was in a good humour, said to him: + +"Yegor Fiodorych, I have a favour to ask of you." + +"What is it?" + +"There's a young man from my village here, a good boy He's without a +job." + +"Well?" + +"Wouldn't you take him?" + +"What do I want him for?" + +"Use him as man of all work round the place." + +"How about Polikarpych?" + +"What good is he? It's about time you dismissed him." + +"That wouldn't be fair. He has been with me so many years. I can't let +him go just so, without any cause." + +"Supposing he _has_ worked for you for years. He didn't work for +nothing. He got paid for it. He's certainly saved up a few dollars for +his old age." + +"Saved up! How could he? From what? He's not alone in the world. He +has a wife to support, and she has to eat and drink also." + +"His wife earns money, too, at day's work as charwoman." + +"A lot she could have made! Enough for _kvas_." + +"Why should you care about Polikarpych and his wife? To tell you the +truth, he's a very poor servant. Why should you throw your money away +on him? He never shovels the snow away on time, or does anything +right. And when it comes his turn to be night watchman, he slips away +at least ten times a night. It's too cold for him. You'll see, some +day, because of him, you will have trouble with the police. The +quarterly inspector will descend on us, and it won't be so agreeable +for you to be responsible for Polikarpych." + +"Still, it's pretty rough. He's been with me fifteen years. And to +treat him that way in his old age--it would be a sin." + +"A sin! Why, what harm would you be doing him? He won't starve. He'll +go to the almshouse. It will be better for him, too, to be quiet in +his old age." + +Sharov reflected. + +"All right," he said finally. "Bring your friend here. I'll see what I +can do." + +"Do take him, sir. I'm so sorry for him. He's a good boy, and he's +been without work for such a long time. I know he'll do his work well +and serve you faithfully. On account of having to report for military +duty, he lost his last position. If it hadn't been for that, his +master would never have let him go." + + + + +IV + + +The next evening Gerasim came again and asked: + +"Well, could you do anything for me?" + +"Something, I believe. First let's have some tea. Then we'll go see my +master." + +Even tea had no allurements for Gerasim. He was eager for a decision; +but under the compulsion of politeness to his host, he gulped down two +glasses of tea, and then they betook themselves to Sharov. + +Sharov asked Gerasim where he had lived before end what work he could +do. Then he told him he was prepared to engage him as man of all work, +and he should come back the next day ready to take the place. + +Gerasim was fairly stunned by the great stroke of fortune. So +overwhelming was his joy that his legs would scarcely carry him. He +went to the coachman's room, and Yegor said to him: + +"Well, my lad, see to it that you do your work right, so that I shan't +have to be ashamed of you. You know what masters are like. If you go +wrong once, they'll be at you forever after with their fault-finding, +and never give you peace." + +"Don't worry about that, Yegor Danilych." + +"Well--well." + +Gerasim took leave, crossing the yard to go out by the gate. +Polikarpych's rooms gave on the yard, and a broad beam of light from +the window fell across Gerasim's way. He was curio as to get a glimpse +of his future home, but the panes were all frosted over, and it was +impossible to peep through. However, he could hear what the people +inside were saying. + +"What will we do now?" was said in a woman's voice. + +"I don't know, I don't know," a man, undoubtedly Polikarpych, replied. +"Go begging, I suppose." + +"That's all we can do. There's nothing else left," said the woman. +"Oh, we poor people, what a miserable life we lead. We work and work +from early morning till late at night, day after day, and when we get +old, then it's, 'Away with you!'" + +"What can we do? Our master is not one of us. It wouldn't be worth the +while to say much to him about it. He cares only for his own +advantage." + +"All the masters are so mean. They don't think of any one but +themselves. It doesn't occur to them that we work for them honestly +and faithfully for years, and use up our best strength in their +service. They're afraid to keep us a year longer, even though we've +got all the strength we need to do their work. If we weren't strong +enough, we'd go of our own accord." + +"The master's not so much to blame as his coachman. Yegor Danilych +wants to get a good position for his friend." + +"Yes, he's a serpent. He knows how to wag his tongue. You wait, you +foul-mouthed beast, I'll get even with you. I'll go straight to the +master and tell him how the fellow deceives him, how he steals the hay +and fodder. I'll put it down in writing, and he can convince himself +how the fellow lies about us all." + +"Don't, old woman. Don't sin." + +"Sin? Isn't what I said all true? I know to a dot what I'm saying, and +I mean to tell it straight out to the master. He should see with his +own eyes. Why not? What can we do now anyhow? Where shall we go? He's +ruined us, ruined us." + +The old woman burst out sobbing. + +Gerasim heard all that, and it stabbed him like a dagger. He realised +what misfortune he would be bringing the old people, and it made him +sick at heart. He stood there a long while, saddened, lost in thought, +then he turned and went back into the coachman's room. + +"Ah, you forgot something?" + +"No, Yegor Danilych." Gerasim stammered out, "I've come--listen--I +want to thank you ever and ever so much--for the way you received +me--and--and all the trouble you took for me--but--I can't take the +place." + +"What! What does that mean?" + +"Nothing. I don't want the place. I will look for another one for +myself." + +Yegor flew into a rage. + +"Did you mean to make a fool of me, did you, you idiot? You come here +so meek--'Try for me, do try for me'--and then you refuse to take the +place. You rascal, you have disgraced me!" + +Gerasim found nothing to say in reply. He reddened, and lowered his +eyes. Yegor turned his back scornfully and said nothing more. + +Then Gerasim quietly picked up his cap and left the coachman's room. +He crossed the yard rapidly, went out by the gate, and hurried off +down the street. He felt happy and lighthearted. + + + + +ONE AUTUMN NIGHT + + + +BY MAXIM GORKY + + +Once in the autumn I happened to be in a very unpleasant and +inconvenient position. In the town where I had just arrived and where +I knew not a soul, I found myself without a farthing in my pocket and +without a night's lodging. + +Having sold during the first few days every part of my costume without +which it was still possible to go about, I passed from the town into +the quarter called "Yste," where were the steamship wharves--a quarter +which during the navigation season fermented with boisterous, +laborious life, but now was silent and deserted, for we were in the +last days of October. + +Dragging my feet along the moist sand, and obstinately scrutinising it +with the desire to discover in it any sort of fragment of food, I +wandered alone among the deserted buildings and warehouses, and +thought how good it would be to get a full meal. + +In our present state of culture hunger of the mind is more quickly +satisfied than hunger of the body. You wander about the streets, you +are surrounded by buildings not bad-looking from the outside and--you +may safely say it--not so badly furnished inside, and the sight of +them may excite within you stimulating ideas about architecture, +hygiene, and many other wise and high-flying subjects. You may meet +warmly and neatly dressed folks--all very polite, and turning away +from you tactfully, not wishing offensively to notice the lamentable +fact of your existence. Well, well, the mind of a hungry man is always +better nourished and healthier than the mind of the well-fed man; and +there you have a situation from which you may draw a very ingenious +conclusion in favour of the ill fed. + +The evening was approaching, the rain was falling, and the wind blew +violently from the north. It whistled in the empty booths and shops, +blew into the plastered window-panes of the taverns, and whipped into +foam the wavelets of the river which splashed noisily on the sandy +shore, casting high their white crests, racing one after another into +the dim distance, and leaping impetuously over one another's +shoulders. It seemed as if the river felt the proximity of winter, and +was running at random away from the fetters of ice which the north +wind might well have flung upon her that very night. The sky was heavy +and dark; down from it swept incessantly scarcely visible drops of +rain, and the melancholy elegy in nature all around me was emphasised +by a couple of battered and misshapen willow-trees and a boat, bottom +upwards, that was fastened to their roots. + +The overturned canoe with its battered keel and the miserable old +trees rifled by the cold wind--everything around me was bankrupt, +barren, and dead, and the sky flowed with undryable tears... +Everything around was waste and gloomy ... it seemed as if everything +were dead, leaving me alone among the living, and for me also a cold +death waited. + +I was then eighteen years old--a good time! + +I walked and walked along the cold wet sand, making my chattering +teeth warble in honour of cold and hunger, when suddenly, as I was +carefully searching for something to eat behind one of the empty +crates, I perceived behind it, crouching on the ground, a figure in +woman's clothes dank with the rain and clinging fast to her stooping +shoulders. Standing over her, I watched to see what she was doing. It +appeared that she was digging a trench in the sand with her +hands--digging away under one of the crates. + +"Why are you doing that?" I asked, crouching down on my heels quite +close to her. + +She gave a little scream and was quickly on her legs again. Now that +she stood there staring at me, with her wide-open grey eyes full of +terror, I perceived that it was a girl of my own age, with a very +pleasant face embellished unfortunately by three large blue marks. +This spoilt her, although these blue marks had been distributed with a +remarkable sense of proportion, one at a time, and all were of equal +size--two under the eyes, and one a little bigger on the forehead just +over the bridge of the nose. This symmetry was evidently the work of +an artist well inured to the business of spoiling the human +physiognomy. + +The girl looked at me, and the terror in her eyes gradually died +out... She shook the sand from her hands, adjusted her cotton +head-gear, cowered down, and said: + +"I suppose you too want something to eat? Dig away then! My hands are +tired. Over there"--she nodded her head in the direction of a +booth--"there is bread for certain ... and sausages too... That booth +is still carrying on business." + +I began to dig. She, after waiting a little and looking at me, sat +down beside me and began to help me. + +We worked in silence. I cannot say now whether I thought at that +moment of the criminal code, of morality, of proprietorship, and all +the other things about which, in the opinion of many experienced +persons, one ought to think every moment of one's life. Wishing to +keep as close to the truth as possible, I must confess that apparently +I was so deeply engaged in digging under the crate that I completely +forgot about everything else except this one thing: What could be +inside that crate? + +The evening drew on. The grey, mouldy, cold fog grew thicker and +thicker around us. The waves roared with a hollower sound than before, +and the rain pattered down on the boards of that crate more loudly and +more frequently. Somewhere or other the night-watchman began springing +his rattle. + +"Has it got a bottom or not?" softly inquired my assistant. I did not +understand what she was talking about, and I kept silence. + +"I say, has the crate got a bottom? If it has we shall try in vain to +break into it. Here we are digging a trench, and we may, after all, +come upon nothing but solid boards. How shall we take them off? Better +smash the lock; it is a wretched lock." + +Good ideas rarely visit the heads of women, but, as you see, they do +visit them sometimes. I have always valued good ideas, and have always +tried to utilise them as far as possible. + +Having found the lock, I tugged at it and wrenched off the whole +thing. My accomplice immediately stooped down and wriggled like a +serpent into the gaping-open, four cornered cover of the crate whence +she called to me approvingly, in a low tone: + +"You're a brick!" + +Nowadays a little crumb of praise from a woman is dearer to me than a +whole dithyramb from a man, even though he be more eloquent than all +the ancient and modern orators put together. Then, however, I was less +amiably disposed than I am now, and, paying no attention to the +compliment of my comrade, I asked her curtly and anxiously: + +"Is there anything?" + +In a monotonous tone she set about calculating our discoveries. + +"A basketful of bottles--thick furs--a sunshade--an iron pail." + +All this was uneatable. I felt that my hopes had vanished... But +suddenly she exclaimed vivaciously: + +"Aha! here it is!" + +"What?" + +"Bread ... a loaf ... it's only wet ... take it!" + +A loaf flew to my feet and after it herself, my valiant comrade. I had +already bitten off a morsel, stuffed it in my mouth, and was chewing +it... + +"Come, give me some too!... And we mustn't stay here... Where shall we +go?" she looked inquiringly about on all sides... It was dark, wet, +and boisterous. + +"Look! there's an upset canoe yonder ... let us go there." + +"Let us go then!" And off we set, demolishing our booty as we went, +and filling our mouths with large portions of it... The rain grew more +violent, the river roared; from somewhere or other resounded a +prolonged mocking whistle--just as if Someone great who feared nobody +was whistling down all earthly institutions and along with them this +horrid autumnal wind and us its heroes. This whistling made my heart +throb painfully, in spite of which I greedily went on eating, and in +this respect the girl, walking on my left hand, kept even pace with +me. + +"What do they call you?" I asked her--why I know not. + +"Natasha," she answered shortly, munching loudly. + +I stared at her. My heart ached within me; and then I stared into the +mist before me, and it seemed to me as if the inimical countenance of +my Destiny was smiling at me enigmatically and coldly. + + * * * * * + +The rain scourged the timbers of the skiff incessantly, and its soft +patter induced melancholy thoughts, and the wind whistled as it flew +down into the boat's battered bottom through a rift, where some loose +splinters of wood were rattling together--a disquieting and depressing +sound. The waves of the river were splashing on the shore, and sounded +so monotonous and hopeless, just as if they were telling something +unbearably dull and heavy, which was boring them into utter disgust, +something from which they wanted to run away and yet were obliged to +talk about all the same. The sound of the rain blended with their +splashing, and a long-drawn sigh seemed to be floating above the +overturned skiff--the endless, labouring sigh of the earth, injured +and exhausted by the eternal changes from the bright and warm summer +to the cold misty and damp autumn. The wind blew continually over the +desolate shore and the foaming river--blew and sang its melancholy +songs... + +Our position beneath the shelter of the skiff was utterly devoid of +comfort; it was narrow and damp, tiny cold drops of rain dribbled +through the damaged bottom; gusts of wind penetrated it. We sat in +silence and shivered with cold. I remembered that I wanted to go to +sleep. Natasha leaned her back against the hull of the boat and curled +herself up into a tiny ball. Embracing her knees with her hands, and +resting her chin upon them, she stared doggedly at the river with +wide-open eyes; on the pale patch of her face they seemed immense, +because of the blue marks below them. She never moved, and this +immobility and silence--I felt it--gradually produced within me a +terror of my neighbour. I wanted to talk to her, but I knew not how to +begin. + +It was she herself who spoke. + +"What a cursed thing life is!" she exclaimed plainly, abstractedly, +and in a tone of deep conviction. + +But this was no complaint. In these words there was too much of +indifference for a complaint. This simple soul thought according to +her understanding--thought and proceeded to form a certain conclusion +which she expressed aloud, and which I could not confute for fear of +contradicting myself. Therefore I was silent, and she, as if she had +not noticed me, continued to sit there immovable. + +"Even if we croaked ... what then...?" Natasha began again, this time +quietly and reflectively, and still there was not one note of +complaint in her words. It was plain that this person, in the course +of her reflections on life, was regarding her own case, and had +arrived at the conviction that in order to preserve herself from the +mockeries of life, she was not in a position to do anything else but +simply "croak"--to use her own expression. + +The clearness of this line of thought was inexpressibly sad and +painful to me, and I felt that if I kept silence any longer I was +really bound to weep... And it would have been shameful to have done +this before a woman, especially as she was not weeping herself. I +resolved to speak to her. + +"Who was it that knocked you about?" I asked. For the moment I could +not think of anything more sensible or more delicate. + +"Pashka did it all," she answered in a dull and level tone. + +"And who is he?" + +"My lover... He was a baker." + +"Did he beat you often?" + +"Whenever he was drunk he beat me... Often!" + +And suddenly, turning towards me, she began to talk about herself, +Pashka, and their mutual relations. He was a baker with red moustaches +and played very well on the banjo. He came to see her and greatly +pleased her, for he was a merry chap and wore nice clean clothes. He +had a vest which cost fifteen rubles and boots with dress tops. For +these reasons she had fallen in love with him, and he became her +"creditor." And when he became her creditor he made it his business to +take away from her the money which her other friends gave to her for +bonbons, and, getting drunk on this money, he would fall to beating +her; but that would have been nothing if he hadn't also begun to "run +after" other girls before her very eyes. + +"Now, wasn't that an insult? I am not worse than the others. Of course +that meant that he was laughing at me, the blackguard. The day before +yesterday I asked leave of my mistress to go out for a bit, went to +him, and there I found Dimka sitting beside him drunk. And he, too, +was half seas over. I said, 'You scoundrel, you!' And he gave me a +thorough hiding. He kicked me and dragged me by the hair. But that was +nothing to what came after. He spoiled everything I had on--left me +just as I am now! How could I appear before my mistress? He spoiled +everything ... my dress and my jacket too--it was quite a new one; I +gave a fiver for it ... and tore my kerchief from my head... Oh, Lord! +What will become of me now?" she suddenly whined in a lamentable +overstrained voice. + +The wind howled, and became ever colder and more boisterous... Again +my teeth began to dance up and down, and she, huddled up to avoid the +cold, pressed as closely to me as she could, so that I could see the +gleam of her eyes through the darkness. + +"What wretches all you men are! I'd burn you all in an oven; I'd cut +you in pieces. If any one of you was dying I'd spit in his mouth, and +not pity him a bit. Mean skunks! You wheedle and wheedle, you wag your +tails like cringing dogs, and we fools give ourselves up to you, and +it's all up with us! Immediately you trample us underfoot... Miserable +loafers'" + +She cursed us up and down, but there was no vigour, no malice, no +hatred of these "miserable loafers" in her cursing that I could hear. +The tone of her language by no means corresponded with its +subject-matter, for it was calm enough, and the gamut of her voice was +terribly poor. + +Yet all this made a stronger impression on me than the most eloquent +and convincing pessimistic bocks and speeches, of which I had read a +good many and which I still read to this day. And this, you see, was +because the agony of a dying person is much more natural and violent +than the most minute and picturesque descriptions of death. + +I felt really wretched--more from cold than from the words of my +neighbour. I groaned softly and ground my teeth. + +Almost at the same moment I felt two little arms about me--one of them +touched my neck and the other lay upon my face--and at the same time +an anxious, gentle, friendly voice uttered the question: + +"What ails you?" + +I was ready to believe that some one else was asking me this and not +Natasha, who had just declared that all men were scoundrels, and +expressed a wish for their destruction. But she it was, and now she +began speaking quickly, hurriedly. + +"What ails you, eh? Are you cold? Are you frozen? Ah, what a one you +are, sitting there so silent like a little owl! Why, you should have +told me long ago that you were cold. Come ... lie on the ground ... +stretch yourself out and I will lie ... there! How's that? Now put +your arms round me?... tighter! How's that? You shall be warm very +soon now... And then we'll lie back to back... The night will pass so +quickly, see if it won't. I say ... have you too been drinking?... +Turned out of your place, eh?... It doesn't matter." + +And she comforted me... She encouraged me. + +May I be thrice accursed! What a world of irony was in this single +fact for me! Just imagine! Here was I, seriously occupied at this very +time with the destiny of humanity, thinking of the re-organisation of +the social system, of political revolutions, reading all sorts of +devilishly-wise books whose abysmal profundity was certainly +unfathomable by their very authors--at this very time. I say, I was +trying with all my might to make of myself "a potent active social +force." It even seemed to me that I had partially accomplished my +object; anyhow, at this time, in my ideas about myself, I had got so +far as to recognise that I had an exclusive right to exist, that I had +the necessary greatness to deserve to live my life, and that I was +fully competent to play a great historical part therein. And a woman +was now warming me with her body, a wretched, battered, hunted +creature, who had no place and no value in life, and whom I had never +thought of helping till she helped me herself, and whom I really would +not have known how to help in any way even if the thought of it had +occurred to me. + +Ah! I was ready to think that all this was happening to me in a +dream--in a disagreeable, an oppressive dream. + +But, ugh! it was impossible for me to think that, for cold drops of +rain were dripping down upon me, the woman was pressing close to me, +her warm breath was fanning my face, and--despite a slight odor of +vodka--it did me good. The wind howled and raged, the rain smote upon +the skiff, the waves splashed, and both of us, embracing each other +convulsively, nevertheless shivered with cold. All this was only too +real, and I am certain that nobody ever dreamed such an oppressive and +horrid dream as that reality. + +But Natasha was talking all the time of something or other, talking +kindly and sympathetically, as only women can talk. Beneath the +influence of her voice and kindly words a little fire began to burn up +within me, and something inside my heart thawed in consequence. + +Then tears poured from my eyes like a hailstorm, washing away from my +heart much that was evil, much that war, stupid, much sorrow and dirt +which had fastened upon it before that night. Natasha comforted me. + +"Come, come, that will do, little one! Don't take on! That'll do! God +will give you another chance ... you will right yourself and stand in +your proper place again ... and it will be all right..." + +And she kept kissing me ... many kisses did she give me ... burning +kisses ... and all for nothing... + +Those were the first kisses from a woman that had ever been bestowed +upon me, and they were the best kisses too, for all the subsequent +kisses cost me frightfully dear, and really gave me nothing at all in +exchange. + +"Come, don't take on so, funny one! I'll manage for you to-morrow if +you cannot find a place." Her quiet persuasive whispering sounded in +my ears as if it came through a dream... + +There we lay till dawn... + +And when the dawn came, we crept from behind the skiff and went into +the town... Then we took friendly leave of each other and never met +again, although for half a year I searched in every hole and corner +for that kind Natasha, with whom I spent the autumn night just +described. + +If she be already dead--and well for her if it were so--may she rest +in peace! And if she be alive ... still I say "Peace to her soul!" And +may the consciousness of her fall never enter her soul ... for that +would be a superfluous and fruitless suffering if life is to be +lived... + + + + +HER LOVER + + + +BY MAXIM GORKY + + +An acquaintance of mine once told me the following story. + +When I was a student at Moscow I happened to live alongside one of +those ladies whose repute is questionable. She was a Pole, and they +called her Teresa. She was a tallish, powerfully-built brunette, with +black, bushy eyebrows and a large coarse face as if carved out by a +hatchet--the bestial gleam of her dark eyes, her thick bass voice, her +cabman-like gait and her immense muscular vigour, worthy of a +fishwife, inspired me with horror. I lived on the top flight and her +garret was opposite to mine. I never left my door open when I knew her +to be at home. But this, after all, was a very rare occurrence. +Sometimes I chanced to meet her on the staircase or in the yard, and +she would smile upon me with a smile which seemed to me to be sly and +cynical. Occasionally, I saw her drunk, with bleary eyes, tousled +hair, and a particularly hideous grin. On such occasions she would +speak to me. + +"How d'ye do, Mr. Student!" and her stupid laugh would still further +intensify my loathing of her. I should have liked to have changed my +quarters in order to have avoided such encounters and greetings; but +my little chamber was a nice one, and there was such a wide view from +the window, and it was always so quiet in the street below--so I +endured. + +And one morning I was sprawling on my couch, trying to find some sort +of excuse for not attending my class, when the door opened, and the +bass voice of Teresa the loathsome resounded from my threshold: + +"Good health to you, Mr. Student!" + +"What do you want?" I said. I saw that her face was confused and +supplicatory... It was a very unusual sort of face for her. + +"Sir! I want to beg a favour of you. Will you grant it me?" + +I lay there silent, and thought to myself: + +"Gracious!... Courage, my boy!" + +"I want to send a letter home, that's what it is," she said; her voice +was beseeching, soft, timid. + +"Deuce take you!" I thought; but up I jumped, sat down at my table, +took a sheet of paper, and said: + +"Come here, sit down, and dictate!" + +She came, sat down very gingerly on a chair, and looked at me with a +guilty look. + +"Well, to whom do you want to write?" + +"To Boleslav Kashput, at the town of Svieptziana, on the Warsaw +Road..." + +"Well, fire away!" + +"My dear Boles ... my darling ... my faithful lover. May the Mother of +God protect thee! Thou heart of gold, why hast thou not written for +such a long time to thy sorrowing little dove, Teresa?" + +I very nearly burst out laughing. "A sorrowing little dove!" more than +five feet high, with fists a stone and more in weight, and as black a +face as if the little dove had lived all its life in a chimney, and +had never once washed itself! Restraining myself somehow, I asked: + +"Who is this Bolest?" + +"Boles, Mr. Student," she said, as if offended with me for blundering +over the name, "he is Boles--my young man." + +"Young man!" + +"Why are you so surprised, sir? Cannot I, a girl, have a young man?" + +She? A girl? Well! + +"Oh, why not?" I said. "All things are possible. And has he been your +young man long?" + +"Six years." + +"Oh, ho!" I thought. "Well, let us write your letter..." + +And I tell you plainly that I would willingly have changed places with +this Boles if his fair correspondent had been not Teresa but something +less than she. + +"I thank you most heartily, sir, for your kind services," said Teresa +to me, with a curtsey. "Perhaps _I_ can show _you_ some service, eh?" + +"No, I most humbly thank you all the same." + +"Perhaps, sir, your shirts or your trousers may want a little +mending?" + +I felt that this mastodon in petticoats had made me grow quite red +with shame, and I told her pretty sharply that I had no need whatever +of her services. + +She departed. + +A week or two passed away. It was evening. I was sitting at my window +whistling and thinking of some expedient for enabling me to get away +from myself. I was bored; the weather was dirty. I didn't want to go +out, and out of sheer ennui I began a course of self-analysis and +reflection. This also was dull enough work, but I didn't care about +doing anything else. Then the door opened. Heaven be praised! Some one +came in. + +"Oh, Mr. Student, you have no pressing business, I hope?" + +It was Teresa. Humph! + +"No. What is it?" + +"I was going to ask you, sir, to write me another letter." + +"Very well! To Boles, eh?" + +"No, this time it is from him." + +"Wha-at?" + +"Stupid that I am! It is not for me, Mr. Student, I beg your pardon. +It is for a friend of mine, that is to say, not a friend but an +acquaintance--a man acquaintance. He has a sweetheart just like me +here, Teresa. That's how it is. Will you, sir, write a letter to this +Teresa?" + +I looked at her--her face was troubled, her fingers were trembling. I +was a bit fogged at first--and then I guessed how it was. + +"Look here, my lady," I said, "there are no Boleses or Teresas at all, +and you've been telling me a pack of lies. Don't you come sneaking +about me any longer. I have no wish whatever to cultivate your +acquaintance. Do you understand?" + +And suddenly she grew strangely terrified and distraught; she began to +shift from foot to foot without moving from the place, and spluttered +comically, as if she wanted to say something and couldn't. I waited to +see what would come of all this, and I saw and felt that, apparently, +I had made a great mistake in suspecting her of wishing to draw me +from the path of righteousness. It was evidently something very +different. + +"Mr. Student!" she began, and suddenly, waving her hand, she turned +abruptly towards the door and went out. I remained with a very +unpleasant feeling in my mind. I listened. Her door was flung +violently to--plainly the poor wench was very angry... I thought it +over, and resolved to go to her, and, inviting her to come in here, +write everything she wanted. + +I entered her apartment. I looked round. She was sitting at the table, +leaning on her elbows, with her head in her hands. + +"Listen to me," I said. + +Now, whenever I come to this point in my story, I always feel horribly +awkward and idiotic. Well, well! + +"Listen to me," I said. + +She leaped from her seat, came towards me with flashing eyes, and +laying her hands on my shoulders, began to whisper, or rather to hum +in her peculiar bass voice: + +"Look you, now! It's like this. There's no Boles at all, and there's +no Teresa either. But what's that to you? Is it a hard thing for you +to draw your pen over paper? Eh? Ah, and _you_, too! Still such a +little fair-haired boy! There's nobody at all, neither Boles, nor +Teresa, only me. There you have it, and much good may it do you!" + +"Pardon me!" said I, altogether flabbergasted by such a reception, +"what is it all about? There's no Boles, you say?" + +"No. So it is." + +"And no Teresa either?" + +"And no Teresa. I'm Teresa." + +I didn't understand it at all. I fixed my eyes upon her, and tried to +make out which of us was taking leave of his or her senses. But she +went again to the table, searched about for something, came back to +me, and said in an offended tone: + +"If it was so hard for you to write to Boles, look, there's your +letter, take it! Others will write for me." + +I looked. In her hand was my letter to Boles. Phew! + +"Listen, Teresa! What is the meaning of all this? Why must you get +others to write for you when I have already written it, and you +haven't sent it?" + +"Sent it where?" + +"Why, to this--Boles." + +"There's no such person." + +I absolutely did not understand it. There was nothing for me but to +spit and go. Then she explained. + +"What is it?" she said, still offended. "There's no such person, I +tell you," and she extended her arms as if she herself did not +understand why there should be no such person. "But I wanted him to +be... Am I then not a human creature like the rest of them? Yes, yes, +I know, I know, of course... Yet no harm was done to any one by my +writing to him that I can see..." + +"Pardon me--to whom?" + +"To Boles, of course." + +"But he doesn't exist." + +"Alas! alas! But what if he doesn't? He doesn't exist, but he _might!_ +I write to him, and it looks as if he did exist. And Teresa--that's +me, and he replies to me, and then I write to him again..." + +I understood at last. And I felt so sick, so miserable, so ashamed, +somehow. Alongside of me, not three yards away, lived a human creature +who had nobody in the world to treat her kindly, affectionately, and +this human being had invented a friend for herself! + +"Look, now! you wrote me a letter to Boles, and I gave it to some one +else to read it to me; and when they read it to me I listened and +fancied that Boles was there. And I asked you to write me a letter +from Boles to Teresa--that is to me. When they write such a letter for +me, and read it to me, I feel quite sure that Boles is there. And life +grows easier for me in consequence." + +"Deuce take you for a blockhead!" said I to myself when I heard this. + +And from thenceforth, regularly, twice a week, I wrote a letter to +Boles, and an answer from Boles to Teresa. I wrote those answers +well... She, of course, listened to them, and wept like anything, +roared, I should say, with her bass voice. And in return for my thus +moving her to tears by real letters from the imaginary Boles, she +began to mend the holes I had in my socks, shirts, and other articles +of clothing. Subsequently, about three months after this history +began, they put her in prison for something or other. No doubt by this +time she is dead. + +My acquaintance shook the ash from his cigarette, looked pensively up +at the sky, and thus concluded: + +Well, well, the more a human creature has tasted of bitter things the +more it hungers after the sweet things of life. And we, wrapped round +in the rags of our virtues, and regarding others through the mist of +our self-sufficiency, and persuaded of our universal impeccability, do +not understand this. + +And the whole thing turns out pretty stupidly--and very cruelly. The +fallen classes, we say. And who are the fallen classes, I should like +to know? They are, first of all, people with the same bones, flesh, +and blood and nerves as ourselves. We have been told this day after +day for ages. And we actually listen--and the devil only knows how +hideous the whole thing is. Or are we completely depraved by the loud +sermonising of humanism? In reality, we also are fallen folks, and, so +far as I can see, very deeply fallen into the abyss of +self-sufficiency and the conviction of our own superiority. But enough +of this. It is all as old as the hills--so old that it is a shame to +speak of it. Very old indeed--yes, that's what it is! + + + + +LAZARUS + + + +BY LEONID ANDREYEV + + + +I + + +When Lazarus rose from the grave, after three days and nights in the +mysterious thraldom of death, and returned alive to his home, it was a +long time before any one noticed the evil peculiarities in him that +were later to make his very name terrible. His friends and relatives +were jubilant that he had come back to life. They surrounded him with +tenderness, they were lavish of their eager attentions, spending the +greatest care upon his food and drink and the new garments they made +for him. They clad him gorgeously in the glowing colours of hope and +laughter, and when, arrayed like a bridegroom, he sat at table with +them again, ate again, and drank again, they wept fondly and summoned +the neighbours to look upon the man miraculously raised from the dead. + +The neighbours came and were moved with joy. Strangers arrived from +distant cities and villages to worship the miracle. They burst into +stormy exclamations, and buzzed around the house of Mary and Martha, +like so many bees. + +That which was new in Lazarus' face and gestures they explained +naturally, as the traces of his severe illness and the shock he had +passed through. It was evident that the disintegration of the body had +been halted by a miraculous power, but that the restoration had not +been complete; that death had left upon his face and body the effect +of an artist's unfinished sketch seen through a thin glass. On his +temples, under his eyes, and in the hollow of his cheek lay a thick, +earthy blue. His fingers were blue, too, and under his nails, which +had grown long in the grave, the blue had turned livid. Here and there +on his lips and body, the skin, blistered in the grave, had burst open +and left reddish glistening cracks, as if covered with a thin, glassy +slime. And he had grown exceedingly stout. His body was horribly +bloated and suggested the fetid, damp smell of putrefaction. But the +cadaverous, heavy odour that clung to his burial garments and, as it +seemed, to his very body, soon wore off, and after some time the blue +of his hands and face softened, and the reddish cracks of his skin +smoothed out, though they never disappeared completely. Such was the +aspect of Lazarus in his second life. It looked natural only to those +who had seen him buried. + +Not merely Lazarus' face, but his very character, it seemed, had +changed; though it astonished no one and did not attract the attention +it deserved. Before his death Lazarus had been cheerful and careless, +a lover of laughter and harmless jest. It was because of his good +humour, pleasant and equable, his freedom from meanness and gloom, +that he had been so beloved by the Master. Now he was grave and +silent; neither he himself jested nor did he laugh at the jests of +others; and the words he spoke occasionally were simple, ordinary and +necessary words--words as much devoid of sense and depth as are the +sounds with which an animal expresses pain and pleasure, thirst and +hunger. Such words a man may speak all his life and no one would ever +know the sorrows and joys that dwelt within him. + +Thus it was that Lazarus sat at the festive table among his friends +and relatives--his face the face of a corpse over which, for three +days, death had reigned in darkness, his garments gorgeous and +festive, glittering with gold, bloody-red and purple; his mien heavy +and silent. He was horribly changed and strange, but as yet +undiscovered. In high waves, now mild, now stormy, the festivities +went on around him. Warm glances of love caressed his face, still cold +with the touch of the grave; and a friend's warm hand patted his +bluish, heavy hand. And the music played joyous tunes mingled of the +sounds of the tympanum, the pipe, the zither and the dulcimer. It was +as if bees were humming, locusts buzzing and birds singing over the +happy home of Mary and Martha. + + + +II + + +Some one recklessly lifted the veil. By one breath of an uttered word +he destroyed the serene charm, and uncovered the truth in its ugly +nakedness. No thought was clearly defined in his mind, when his lips +smilingly asked: "Why do you not tell us, Lazarus, what was There?" +And all became silent, struck with the question. Only now it seemed to +have occurred to them that for three days Lazarus had been dead; and +they looked with curiosity, awaiting an answer. But Lazarus remained +silent. + +"You will not tell us?" wondered the inquirer. "Is it so terrible +There?" + +Again his thought lagged behind his words. Had it preceded them, he +would not have asked the question, for, at the very moment he uttered +it, his heart sank with a dread fear. All grew restless; they awaited +the words of Lazarus anxiously. But he was silent, cold and severe, +and his eyes were cast down. And now, as if for the first time, they +perceived the horrible bluishness of his face and the loathsome +corpulence of his body. On the table, as if forgotten by Lazarus, lay +his livid blue hand, and all eyes were riveted upon it, as though +expecting the desired answer from that hand. The musicians still +played; then silence fell upon them, too, and the gay sounds died +down, as scattered coals are extinguished by water. The pipe became +mute, and the ringing tympanum and the murmuring dulcimer; and as +though a chord were broken, as though song itself were dying, the +zither echoed a trembling broken sound. Then all was quiet. + +"You will not?" repeated the inquirer, unable to restrain his babbling +tongue. Silence reigned, and the livid blue hand lay motionless. It +moved slightly, and the company sighed with relief and raised their +eyes. Lazarus, risen from the dead, was looking straight at them, +embracing all with one glance, heavy and terrible. + +This was on the third day after Lazarus had arisen from the grave. +Since then many had felt that his gaze was the gaze of destruction, +but neither those who had been forever crushed by it, nor those who in +the prime of life (mysterious even as death) had found the will to +resist his glance, could ever explain the terror that lay immovable in +the depths of his black pupils. He looked quiet and simple. One felt +that he had no intention to hide anything, but also no intention to +tell anything. His look was cold, as of one who is entirely +indifferent to all that is alive. And many careless people who pressed +around him, and did not notice him, later learned with wonder and fear +the name of this stout, quiet man who brushed against them with his +sumptuous, gaudy garments. The sun did not stop shining when he +looked, neither did the fountain cease playing, and the Eastern sky +remained cloudless and blue as always; but the man who fell under his +inscrutable gaze could no longer feel the sun, nor hear the fountain, +nor recognise his native sky. Sometimes he would cry bitterly, +sometimes tear his hair in despair and madly call for help; but +generally it happened that the men thus stricken by the gaze of +Lazarus began to fade away listlessly and quietly and pass into a slow +death lasting many long years. They died in the presence of everybody, +colourless, haggard and gloomy, like trees withering on rocky ground. +Those who screamed in madness sometimes came back to life; but the +others, never. + +"So you will not tell us, Lazarus, what you saw There?" the inquirer +repeated for the third time. But now his voice was dull, and a dead, +grey weariness looked stupidly from out his eyes. The faces of all +present were also covered by the same dead grey weariness like a mist. +The guests stared at one another stupidly, not knowing why they had +come together or why they sat around this rich table. They stopped +talking, and vaguely felt it was time to leave; but they could not +overcome the lassitude that spread through their muscles. So they +continued to sit there, each one isolated, like little dim lights +scattered in the darkness of night. + +The musicians were paid to play, and they again took up the +instruments, and again played gay or mournful airs. But it was music +made to order, always the same tunes, and the guests listened +wonderingly. Why was this music necessary, they thought, why was it +necessary and what good did it do for people to pull at strings and +blow their cheeks into thin pipes, and produce varied and +strange-sounding noises? + +"How badly they play!" said some one. + +The musicians were insulted and left. Then the guests departed one by +one, for it was nearing night. And when the quiet darkness enveloped +them, and it became easier to breathe, the image of Lazarus suddenly +arose before each one in stern splendour. There he stood, with the +blue face of a corpse and the raiment of a bridegroom, sumptuous and +resplendent, in his eyes that cold stare in the depths of which lurked +_The Horrible!_ They stood still as if turned into stone. The darkness +surrounded them, and in the midst of this darkness flamed up the +horrible apparition, the supernatural vision, of the one who for three +days had lain under the measureless power of death. Three days he had +been dead. Thrice had the sun risen and set--and he had lain dead. The +children had played, the water had murmured as it streamed over the +rocks, the hot dust had clouded the highway--and he had been dead. And +now he was among men again--touched them--looked at them--_looked at +them!_ And through the black rings of his pupils, as through dark +glasses, the unfathomable _There_ gazed upon humanity. + + + +III + + +No one took care of Lazarus, and no friends or kindred remained with +him. Only the great desert, enfolding the Holy City, came close to the +threshold of his abode. It entered his home, and lay down on his couch +like a spouse, and put out all the fires. No one cared for Lazarus. +One after the other went away, even his sisters, Mary and Martha. For +a long while Martha did not want to leave him, for she knew not who +would nurse him or take care of him; and she cried and prayed. But one +night, when the wind was roaming about the desert, and the rustling +cypress trees were bending over the roof, she dressed herself quietly, +and quietly went away. Lazarus probably heard how the door was +slammed--it had not shut properly and the wind kept knocking it +continually against the post--but he did not rise, did not go out, did +not try to find out the reason. And the whole night until the morning +the cypress trees hissed over his head, and the door swung to and fro, +allowing the cold, greedily prowling desert to enter his dwelling. +Everybody shunned him as though he were a leper. They wanted to put a +bell on his neck to avoid meeting him. But some one, turning pale, +remarked it would be terrible if at night, under the windows, one +should happen to hear Lazarus' bell, and all grew pale and assented. + +Since he did nothing for himself, he would probably have starved had +not his neighbours, in trepidation, saved some food for him. Children +brought it to him. They did not fear him, neither did they laugh at +him in the innocent cruelty in which children often laugh at +unfortunates. They were indifferent to him, and Lazarus showed the +same indifference to them. He showed no desire to thank them for their +services; he did not try to pat the dark hands and look into the +simple shining little eyes. Abandoned to the ravages of time and the +desert, his house was falling to ruins, and his hungry, bleating goats +had long been scattered among his neighbours. His wedding garments had +grown old. He wore them without changing them, as he had donned them +on that happy day when the musicians played. He did not see the +difference between old and new, between torn and whole. The brilliant +colours were burnt and faded; the vicious dogs of the city and the +sharp thorns of the desert had rent the fine clothes to shreds. + +During the day, when the sun beat down mercilessly upon all living +things, and even the scorpions hid under the stones, convulsed with a +mad desire to sting, he sat motionless in the burning rays, lifting +high his blue face and shaggy wild beard. + +While yet the people were unafraid to speak to him, same one had asked +him: "Poor Lazarus! Do you find it pleasant to sit so, and look at the +sun?" And he answered: "Yes, it is pleasant." + +The thought suggested itself to people that the cold of the three days +in the grave had been so intense, its darkness so deep, that there was +not in all the earth enough heat or light to warm Lazarus and lighten +the gloom of his eyes; and inquirers turned away with a sigh. + +And when the setting sun, flat and purple-red, descended to earth, +Lazarus went into the desert and walked straight toward it, as though +intending to reach it. Always he walked directly toward the sun, and +those who tried to follow him and find out what he did at night in the +desert had indelibly imprinted upon their mind's vision the black +silhouette of a tall, stout man against the red background of an +immense disk. The horrors of the night drove them away, and so they +never found out what Lazarus did in the desert; but the image of the +black form against the red was burned forever into their brains. Like +an animal with a cinder in its eye which furiously rubs its muzzle +against its paws, they foolishly rubbed their eyes; but the impression +left by Lazarus was ineffaceable, forgotten only in death. + +There were people living far away who never saw Lazarus and only heard +of him. With an audacious curiosity which is stronger than fear and +feeds on fear, with a secret sneer in their hearts, some of them came +to him one day as he basked in the sun, and entered into conversation +with him. At that time his appearance had changed for the better and +was not so frightful. At first the visitors snapped their fingers and +thought disapprovingly of the foolish inhabitants of the Holy City. +But when the short talk came to an end and they went home, their +expression was such that the inhabitants of the Holy City at once knew +their errand and said: "Here go some more madmen at whom Lazarus has +looked." The speakers raised their hands in silent pity. + +Other visitors came, among them brave warriors in clinking armour, who +knew not fear, and happy youths who made merry with laughter and song. +Busy merchants, jingling their coins, ran in for awhile, and proud +attendants at the Temple placed their staffs at Lazarus' door. But no +one returned the same as he came. A frightful shadow fell upon their +souls, and gave a new appearance to the old familiar world. + +Those who felt any desire to speak, after they had been stricken by +the gaze of Lazarus, described the change that had come over them +somewhat like this: + +_All objects seen by the eye and palpable to the hand became empty, +light and transparent, as though they were light shadows in the +darkness; and this darkness enveloped the whole universe. It was +dispelled neither by the sun, nor by the moon, nor by the stars, but +embraced the earth like a mother, and clothed it in a boundless black +veil_. + +_Into all bodies it penetrated, even into iron and stone; and the +particles of the body lost their unity and became lonely. Even to the +heart of the particles it penetrated, and the particles of the +particles became lonely_. + +_The vast emptiness which surrounds the universe, was not filled with +things seen, with sun or moon or stars; it stretched boundless, +penetrating everywhere, disuniting everything, body from body, +particle from particle_. + +_In emptiness the trees spread their roots, themselves empty; in +emptiness rose phantom temples, palaces and houses--all empty; and in +the emptiness moved restless Man, himself empty and light, like a +shadow_. + +_There was no more a sense of time; the beginning of all things and +their end merged into one. In the very moment when a building was +being erected and one could hear the builders striking with their +hammers, one seemed already to see its ruins, and then emptiness where +the ruins were_. + +_A man was just born, and funeral candles were already lighted at his +head, and then were extinguished; and soon there was emptiness where +before had been the man and the candles._ + +_And surrounded by Darkness and Empty Waste, Man trembled hopelessly +before the dread of the Infinite_. + +So spoke those who had a desire to speak. But much more could probably +have been told by those who did not want to talk, and who died in +silence. + + + +IV + + +At that time there lived in Rome a celebrated sculptor by the name of +Aurelius. Out of clay, marble and bronze he created forms of gods and +men of such beauty that this beauty was proclaimed immortal. But he +himself was not satisfied, and said there was a supreme beauty that he +had never succeeded in expressing in marble or bronze. "I have not yet +gathered the radiance of the moon," he said; "I have not yet caught +the glare of the sun. There is no soul in my marble, there is no life +in my beautiful bronze." And when by moonlight he would slowly wander +along the roads, crossing the black shadows of the cypress-trees, his +white tunic flashing in the moonlight, those he met used to laugh +good-naturedly and say: "Is it moonlight that you are gathering, +Aurelius? Why did you not bring some baskets along?" + +And he, too, would laugh and point to his eyes and say: "Here are the +baskets in which I gather the light of the moon and the radiance of +the sun." + +And that was the truth. In his eyes shone moon and sun. But he could +not transmit the radiance to marble. Therein lay the greatest tragedy +of his life. He was a descendant of an ancient race of patricians, had +a good wife and children, and except in this one respect, lacked +nothing. + +When the dark rumour about Lazarus reached him, he consulted his wife +and friends and decided to make the long voyage to Judea, in order +that he might look upon the man miraculously raised from the dead. He +felt lonely in those days and hoped on the way to renew his jaded +energies. What they told him about Lazarus did not frighten him. He +had meditated much upon death. He did not like it, nor did he like +those who tried to harmonise it with life. On this side, beautiful +life; on the other, mysterious death, he reasoned, and no better lot +could befall a man than to live--to enjoy life and the beauty of +living. And he already had conceived a desire to convince Lazarus of +the truth of this view and to return his soul to life even as his body +had been returned. This task did not appear impossible, for the +reports about Lazarus, fearsome and strange as they were, did not tell +the whole truth about him, but only carried a vague warning against +something awful. + +Lazarus was getting up from a stone to follow in the path of the +setting sun, on the evening when the rich Roman, accompanied by an +armed slave, approached him, and in a ringing voice called to him: +"Lazarus!" + +Lazarus saw a proud and beautiful face, made radiant by fame, and +white garments and precious jewels shining in the sunlight. The ruddy +rays of the sun lent to the head and face a likeness to dimly shining +bronze--that was what Lazarus saw. He sank back to his seat +obediently, and wearily lowered his eyes. + +"It is true you are not beautiful, my poor Lazarus," said the Roman +quietly, playing with his gold chain. "You are even frightful, my poor +friend; and death was not lazy the day when you so carelessly fell +into its arms. But you are as fat as a barrel, and 'Fat people are not +bad,' as the great Caesar said. I do not understand why people are so +afraid of you. You will permit me to stay with you over night? It is +already late, and I have no abode." + +Nobody had ever asked Lazarus to be allowed to pass the night with +him. + +"I have no bed," said he. + +"I am somewhat of a warrior and can sleep sitting," replied the Roman. +"We shall make a light." + +"I have no light." + +"Then we will converse in the darkness like two friends. I suppose you +have some wine?" + +"I have no wine." + +The Roman laughed. + +"Now I understand why you are so gloomy and why you do not like your +second life. No wine? Well, we shall do without. You know there are +words that go to one's head even as Falernian wine." + +With a motion of his head he dismissed the slave, and they were alone. +And again the sculptor spoke, but it seemed as though the sinking sun +had penetrated into his words. They faded, pale and empty, as if +trembling on weak feet, as if slipping and falling, drunk with the +wine of anguish and despair. And black chasms appeared between the two +men--like remote hints of vast emptiness and vast darkness. + +"Now I am your guest and you will not ill-treat me, Lazarus!" said the +Roman. "Hospitality is binding even upon those who have been three +days dead. Three days, I am told, you were in the grave. It must have +been cold there... and it is from there that you have brought this bad +habit of doing without light and wine. I like a light. It gets dark so +quickly here. Your eyebrows and forehead have an interesting line: +even as the ruins of castles covered with the ashes of an earthquake. +But why in such strange, ugly clothes? I have seen the bridegrooms of +your country, they wear clothes like that--such ridiculous +clothes--such awful garments... Are you a bridegroom?" + +Already the sun had disappeared. A gigantic black shadow was +approaching fast from the west, as if prodigious bare feet were +rustling over the sand. And the chill breezes stole up behind. + +"In the darkness you seem even bigger, Lazarus, as though you had +grown stouter in these few minutes. Do you feed on darkness, +perchance?... And I would like a light... just a small light... just a +small light. And I am cold. The nights here are so barbarously cold... +If it were not so dark, I should say you were looking at me, Lazarus. +Yes, it seems, you are looking. You are looking. _You are looking at +me!_... I feel it--now you are smiling." + +The night had come, and a heavy blackness filled the air. + +"How good it will be when the sun rises again to-morrow... You know I +am a great sculptor... so my friends call me. I create, yes, they say +I create, but for that daylight is necessary. I give life to cold +marble. I melt the ringing bronze in the fire, in a bright, hot fire. +Why did you touch me with your hand?" + +"Come," said Lazarus, "you are my guest." And they went into the +house. And the shadows of the long evening fell on the earth... + +The slave at last grew tired waiting for his master, and when the sun +stood high he came to the house. And he saw, directly under its +burning rays, Lazarus and his master sitting close together. They +looked straight up and were silent. + +The slave wept and cried aloud: "Master, what ails you, Master!" + +The same day Aurelius left for Rome. The whole way he was thoughtful +and silent, attentively examining everything, the people, the ship, +and the sea, as though endeavouring to recall something. On the sea a +great storm overtook them, and all the while Aurelius remained on deck +and gazed eagerly at the approaching and falling waves. When he +reached home his family were shocked at the terrible change in his +demeanour, but he calmed them with the words: "I have found it!" + +In the dusty clothes which he had worn during the entire journey and +had not changed, he began his work, and the marble ringingly responded +to the resounding blows of the hammer. Long and eagerly he worked, +admitting no one. At last, one morning, he announced that the work was +ready, and gave instructions that all his friends, and the severe +critics and judges of art, be called together. Then he donned gorgeous +garments, shining with gold, glowing with the purple of the byssin. + +"Here is what I have created," he said thoughtfully. + +His friends looked, and immediately the shadow of deep sorrow covered +their faces. It was a thing monstrous, possessing none of the forms +familiar to the eye, yet not devoid of a hint of some new unknown +form. On a thin tortuous little branch, or rather an ugly likeness of +one, lay crooked, strange, unsightly, shapeless heaps of something +turned outside in, or something turned inside out--wild fragments +which seemed to be feebly trying to get away from themselves. And, +accidentally, under one of the wild projections, they noticed a +wonderfully sculptured butterfly, with transparent wings, trembling as +though with a weak longing to fly. + +"Why that wonderful butterfly, Aurelius?" timidly asked some one. + +"I do not know," answered the sculptor. + +The truth had to be told, and one of his friends, the one who loved +Aurelius best, said: "This is ugly, my poor friend. It must be +destroyed. Give me the hammer." And with two blows he destroyed the +monstrous mass, leaving only the wonderfully sculptured butterfly. + +After that Aurelius created nothing. He looked with absolute +indifference at marble and at bronze and at his own divine creations, +in which dwelt immortal beauty. In the hope of breathing into him once +again the old flame of inspiration, with the idea of awakening his +dead soul, his friends led him to see the beautiful creations of +others, but he remained indifferent and no smile warmed his closed +lips. And only after they spoke to him much and long of beauty, he +would reply wearily: + +"But all this is--a lie." + +And in the daytime, when the sun was shining, he would go into his +rich and beautifully laid-out garden, and finding a place where there +was no shadow, would expose his bare head and his dull eyes to the +glitter and burning heat of the sun. Red and white butterflies +fluttered around; down into the marble cistern ran splashing water +from the crooked mouth of a blissfully drunken Satyr; but he sat +motionless, like a pale shadow of that other one who, in a far land, +at the very gates of the stony desert, also sat motionless under the +fiery sun. + + + +V + + +And it came about finally that Lazarus was summoned to Rome by the +great Augustus. + +They dressed him in gorgeous garments as though it had been ordained +that he was to remain a bridegroom to an unknown bride until the very +day of his death. It was as if an old coffin, rotten and falling +apart, were regilded over and over, and gay tassels were hung on it. +And solemnly they conducted him in gala attire, as though in truth it +were a bridal procession, the runners loudly sounding the trumpet that +the way be made for the ambassadors of the Emperor. But the roads +along which he passed were deserted. His entire native land cursed the +execrable name of Lazarus, the man miraculously brought to life, and +the people scattered at the mere report of his horrible approach. The +trumpeters blew lonely blasts, and only the desert answered with a +dying echo. + +Then they carried him across the sea on the saddest and most gorgeous +ship that was ever mirrored in the azure waves of the Mediterranean. +There were many people aboard, but the ship was silent and still as a +coffin, and the water seemed to moan as it parted before the short +curved prow. Lazarus sat lonely, baring his head to the sun, and +listening in silence to the splashing of the waters. Further away the +seamen and the ambassadors gathered like a crowd of distressed +shadows. If a thunderstorm had happened to burst upon them at that +time or the wind had overwhelmed the red sails, the ship would +probably have perished, for none of those who were on her had strength +or desire enough to fight for life. With supreme effort some went to +the side of the ship and eagerly gazed at the blue, transparent abyss. +Perhaps they imagined they saw a naiad flashing a pink shoulder +through the waves, or an insanely joyous and drunken centaur galloping +by, splashing up the water with his hoofs. But the sea was deserted +and mute, and so was the watery abyss. + +Listlessly Lazarus set foot on the streets of the Eternal City, as +though all its riches, all the majesty of its gigantic edifices, all +the lustre and beauty and music of refined life, were simply the echo +of the wind in the desert, or the misty images of hot running sand. +Chariots whirled by; the crowd of strong, beautiful, haughty men +passed on, builders of the Eternal City and proud partakers of its +life; songs rang out; fountains laughed; pearly laughter of women +filled the air, while the drunkard philosophised and the sober ones +smilingly listened; horseshoes rattled on the pavement. And surrounded +on all sides by glad sounds, a fat, heavy man moved through the centre +of the city like a cold spot of silence, sowing in his path grief, +anger and vague, carking distress. Who dared to be sad in Rome? +indignantly demanded frowning citizens; and in two days the +swift-tongued Rome knew of Lazarus, the man miraculously raised from +the grave, and timidly evaded him. + +There were many brave men ready to try their strength, and at their +senseless call Lazarus came obediently. The Emperor was so engrossed +with state affairs that he delayed receiving the visitor, and for +seven days Lazarus moved among the people. + +A jovial drunkard met him with a smile on his red lips. "Drink, +Lazarus, drink!" he cried, "Would not Augustus laugh to see you +drink!" And naked, besotted women laughed, and decked the blue hands +of Lazarus with rose-leaves. But the drunkard looked into the eyes of +Lazarus--and his joy ended forever. Thereafter he was always drunk. He +drank no more, but was drunk all the time, shadowed by fearful dreams, +instead of the joyous reveries that wine gives. Fearful dreams became +the food of his broken spirit. Fearful dreams held him day and night +in the mists of monstrous fantasy, and death itself was no more +fearful than the apparition of its fierce precursor. + +Lazarus came to a youth and his lass who loved each other and were +beautiful in their love. Proudly and strongly holding in his arms his +beloved one, the youth said, with gentle pity: "Look at us, Lazarus, +and rejoice with us. Is there anything stronger than love?" + +And Lazarus looked at them. And their whole life they continued to +love one another, but their love became mournful and gloomy, even as +those cypress trees over the tombs that feed their roots on the +putrescence of the grave, and strive in vain in the quiet evening hour +to touch the sky with their pointed tops. Hurled by fathomless +life-forces into each other's arms, they mingled their kisses with +tears, their joy with pain, and only succeeded in realising the more +vividly a sense of their slavery to the silent Nothing. Forever +united, forever parted, they flashed like sparks, and like sparks went +out in boundless darkness. + +Lazarus came to a proud sage, and the sage said to him: "I already +know all the horrors that you may tell me, Lazarus. With what else can +you terrify me?" + +Only a few moments passed before the sage realised that the knowledge +of the horrible is not the horrible, and that the sight of death is +not death. And he felt that in the eyes of the Infinite wisdom and +folly are the same, for the Infinite knows them not. And the +boundaries between knowledge and ignorance, between truth and +falsehood, between top and bottom, faded and his shapeless thought was +suspended in emptiness. Then he grasped his grey head in his hands and +cried out insanely: "I cannot think! I cannot think!" + +Thus it was that under the cool gaze of Lazarus, the man miraculously +raised from the dead, all that serves to affirm life, its sense and +its joys, perished. And people began to say it was dangerous to allow +him to see the Emperor; that it were better to kill him and bury him +secretly, and swear he had disappeared. Swords were sharpened and +youths devoted to the welfare of the people announced their readiness +to become assassins, when Augustus upset the cruel plans by demanding +that Lazarus appear before him. + +Even though Lazarus could not be kept away, it was felt that the heavy +impression conveyed by his face might be somewhat softened. With that +end in view expert painters, barbers and artists were secured who +worked the whole night on Lazarus' head. His beard was trimmed and +curled. The disagreeable and deadly bluishness of his hands and face +was covered up with paint; his hands were whitened, his cheeks rouged. +The disgusting wrinkles of suffering that ridged his old face were +patched up and painted, and on the smooth surface, wrinkles of +good-nature and laughter, and of pleasant, good-humoured cheeriness, +were laid on artistically with fine brushes. + +Lazarus submitted indifferently to all they did with him, and soon was +transformed into a stout, nice-looking old man, for all the world a +quiet and good-humoured grandfather of numerous grandchildren. He +looked as though the smile with which he told funny stories had not +left his lips, as though a quiet tenderness still lay hidden in the +corner of his eyes. But the wedding-dress they did not dare to take +off; and they could not change his eyes--the dark, terrible eyes from +out of which stared the incomprehensible _There_. + + + +VI + + +Lazarus was untouched by the magnificence of the imperial apartments. +He remained stolidly indifferent, as though he saw no contrast between +his ruined house at the edge of the desert and the solid, beautiful +palace of stone. Under his feet the hard marble of the floor took on +the semblance of the moving sands of the desert, and to his eyes the +throngs of gaily dressed, haughty men were as unreal as the emptiness +of the air. They looked not into his face as he passed by, fearing to +come under the awful bane of his eyes; but when the sound of his heavy +steps announced that he had passed, heads were lifted, and eyes +examined with timid curiosity the figure of the corpulent, tall, +slightly stooping old man, as he slowly passed into the heart of the +imperial palace. If death itself had appeared men would not have +feared it so much; for hitherto death had been known to the dead only, +and life to the living only, and between these two there had been no +bridge. But this strange being knew death, and that knowledge of his +was felt to be mysterious and cursed. "He will kill our great, divine +Augustus," men cried with horror, and they hurled curses after him. +Slowly and stolidly he passed them by, penetrating ever deeper into +the palace. + +Caesar knew already who Lazarus was, and was prepared to meet him. He +was a courageous man; he felt his power was invincible, and in the +fateful encounter with the man "wonderfully raised from the dead" he +refused to lean on other men's weak help. Man to man, face to face, he +met Lazarus. + +"Do not fix your gaze on me, Lazarus," he commanded. "I have heard +that your head is like the head of Medusa, and turns into stone all +upon whom you look. But I should like to have a close look at you, and +to talk to you before I turn into stone," he added in a spirit of +playfulness that concealed his real misgivings. + +Approaching him, he examined closely Lazarus' face and his strange +festive clothes. Though his eyes were sharp and keen, he was deceived +by the skilful counterfeit. + +"Well, your appearance is not terrible, venerable sir. But all the +worse for men, when the terrible takes on such a venerable and +pleasant appearance. Now let us talk." + +Augustus sat down, and as much by glance as by words began the +discussion. "Why did you not salute me when you entered?" + +Lazarus answered indifferently: "I did not know it was necessary." + +"You are a Christian?" + +"No." + +Augustus nodded approvingly. "That is good. I do not like the +Christians. They shake the tree of life, forbidding it to bear fruit, +and they scatter to the wind its fragrant blossoms. But who are you?" + +With some effort Lazarus answered: "I was dead." + +"I heard about that. But who are you now?" + +Lazarus' answer came slowly. Finally he said again, listlessly and +indistinctly: "I was dead." + +"Listen to me, stranger," said the Emperor sharply, giving expression +to what had been in his mind before. "My empire is an empire of the +living; my people are a people of the living and not of the dead. You +are superfluous here. I do not know who you are, I do not know what +you have seen There, but if you lie, I hate your lies, and if you tell +the truth, I hate your truth. In my heart I feel the pulse of life; in +my hands I feel power, and my proud thoughts, like eagles, fly through +space. Behind my back, under the protection of my authority, under the +shadow of the laws I have created, men live and labour and rejoice. Do +you hear this divine harmony of life? Do you hear the war cry that men +hurl into the face of the future, challenging it to strife?" + +Augustus extended his arms reverently and solemnly cried out: "Blessed +art thou, Great Divine Life!" + +But Lazarus was silent, and the Emperor continued more severely: "You +are not wanted here. Pitiful remnant, half devoured of death, you fill +men with distress and aversion to life. Like a caterpillar on the +fields, you are gnawing away at the full seed of joy, exuding the +slime of despair and sorrow. Your truth is like a rusted sword in the +hands of a night assassin, and I shall condemn you to death as an +assassin. But first I want to look into your eyes. Mayhap only cowards +fear them, and brave men are spurred on to struggle and victory. Then +will you merit not death but a reward. Look at me, Lazarus." + +At first it seemed to divine Augustus as if a friend were looking at +him, so soft, so alluring, so gently fascinating was the gaze of +Lazarus. It promised not horror but quiet rest, and the Infinite dwelt +there as a fond mistress, a compassionate sister, a mother. And ever +stronger grew its gentle embrace, until he felt, as it were, the +breath of a mouth hungry for kisses... Then it seemed as if iron bones +protruded in a ravenous grip, and closed upon him in an iron band; and +cold nails touched his heart, and slowly, slowly sank into it. + +"It pains me," said divine Augustus, growing pale; "but look, Lazarus, +look!" + +Ponderous gates, shutting off eternity, appeared to be slowly swinging +open, and through the growing aperture poured in, coldly and calmly, +the awful horror of the Infinite. Boundless Emptiness and Boundless +Gloom entered like two shadows, extinguishing the sun, removing the +ground from under the feet, and the cover from over the head. And the +pain in his icy heart ceased. + +"Look at me, look at me, Lazarus!" commanded Augustus, staggering... + +Time ceased and the beginning of things came perilously near to the +end. The throne of Augustus, so recently erected, fell to pieces, and +emptiness took the place of the throne and of Augustus. Rome fell +silently into ruins. A new city rose in its place, and it too was +erased by emptiness. Like phantom giants, cities, kingdoms, and +countries swiftly fell and disappeared into emptiness--swallowed up in +the black maw of the Infinite... + +"Cease," commanded the Emperor. Already the accent of indifference was +in his voice. His arms hung powerless, and his eagle eyes flashed and +were dimmed again, struggling against overwhelming darkness. + +"You have killed me, Lazarus," he said drowsily. + +These words of despair saved him. He thought of the people, whose +shield he was destined to be, and a sharp, redeeming pang pierced his +dull heart. He thought of them doomed to perish, and he was filled +with anguish. First they seemed bright shadows in the gloom of the +Infinite.--How terrible! Then they appeared as fragile vessels with +life-agitated blood, and hearts that knew both sorrow and great +joy.--And he thought of them with tenderness. + +And so thinking and feeling, inclining the scales now to the side of +life, now to the side of death, he slowly returned to life, to find in +its suffering and joy a refuge from the gloom, emptiness and fear of +the Infinite. + +"No, you did not kill me, Lazarus," said he firmly. "But I will kill +you. Go!" + +Evening came and divine Augustus partook of food and drink with great +joy. But there were moments when his raised arm would remain suspended +in the air, and the light of his shining, eager eyes was dimmed. It +seemed as if an icy wave of horror washed against his feet. He was +vanquished but not killed, and coldly awaited his doom, like a black +shadow. His nights were haunted by horror, but the bright days still +brought him the joys, as well as the sorrows, of life. + +Next day, by order of the Emperor, they burned out Lazarus' eyes with +hot irons and sent him home. Even Augustus dared not kill him. + + * * * * * + +Lazarus returned to the desert and the desert received him with the +breath of the hissing wind and the ardour of the glowing sun. Again he +sat on the stone with matted beard uplifted; and two black holes, +where the eyes had once been, looked dull and horrible at the sky. In +the distance the Holy City surged and roared restlessly, but near him +all was deserted and still. No one approached the place where Lazarus, +miraculously raised from the dead, passed his last days, for his +neighbours had long since abandoned their homes. His cursed knowledge, +driven by the hot irons from his eyes deep into the brain, lay there +in ambush; as if from ambush it might spring out upon men with a +thousand unseen eyes. No one dared to look at Lazarus. + +And in the evening, when the sun, swollen crimson and growing larger, +bent its way toward the west, blind Lazarus slowly groped after it. He +stumbled against stones and fell; corpulent and feeble, he rose +heavily and walked on; and against the red curtain of sunset his dark +form and outstretched arms gave him the semblance of a cross. + +It happened once that he went and never returned. Thus ended the +second life of Lazarus, who for three days had been in the mysterious +thraldom of death and then was miraculously raised from the dead. + + + + +THE REVOLUTIONIST + + + +BY MICHAIL P. ARTZYBASHEV + + +I + + +Gabriel Andersen, the teacher, walked to the edge of the school +garden, where he paused, undecided what to do. Off in the distance, +two miles away, the woods hung like bluish lace over a field of pure +snow. It was a brilliant day. A hundred tints glistened on the white +ground and the iron bars of the garden railing. There was a lightness +and transparency in the air that only the days of early spring +possess. Gabriel Andersen turned his steps toward the fringe of blue +lace for a tramp in the woods. + +"Another spring in my life," he said, breathing deep and peering up at +the heavens through his spectacles. Andersen was rather given to +sentimental poetising. He walked with his hands folded behind him, +dangling his cane. + +He had gone but a few paces when he noticed a group of soldiers and +horses on the road beyond the garden rail. Their drab uniforms stood +out dully against the white of the snow, but their swords and horses' +coats tossed back the light. Their bowed cavalry legs moved awkwardly +on the snow. Andersen wondered what they were doing there Suddenly the +nature of their business flashed upon him. It was an ugly errand they +were upon, an instinct rather that his reason told him. Something +unusual and terrible was to happen. And the same instinct told him he +must conceal himself from the soldiers. He turned to the left quickly, +dropped on his knees, and crawled on the soft, thawing, crackling snow +to a low haystack, from behind which, by craning his neck, he could +watch what the soldiers were doing. + +There were twelve of them, one a stocky young officer in a grey cloak +caught in prettily at the waist by a silver belt. His face was so red +that even at that distance Andersen caught the odd, whitish gleam of +his light protruding moustache and eyebrows against the vivid colour +of his skin. The broken tones of his raucous voice reached distinctly +to where the teacher, listening intently, lay hidden. + +"I know what I am about. I don't need anybody's advice," the officer +cried. He clapped his arms akimbo and looked down at some one among +the group of bustling soldiers. "I'll show you how to be a rebel, you +damned skunk." + +Andersen's heart beat fast. "Good heavens!" he thought. "Is it +possible?" His head grew chill as if struck by a cold wave. + +"Officer," a quiet, restrained, yet distinct voice came from among the +soldiers, "you have no right--It's for the court to decide--you aren't +a judge--it's plain murder, not--" "Silence!" thundered the officer, +his voice choking with rage. "I'll give you a court. Ivanov, go +ahead." + +He put the spurs to his horse and rode away. Gabriel Andersen +mechanically observed how carefully the horse picked its way, placing +its feet daintily as if for the steps of a minuet. Its ears were +pricked to catch every sound. There was momentary bustle and +excitement among the soldiers. Then they dispersed in different +directions, leaving three persons in black behind, two tall men and +one very short and frail. Andersen could see the hair of the short +one's head. It was very light. And he saw his rosy ears sticking out +on each side. + +Now he fully understood what was to happen. But it was a thing so out +of the ordinary, so horrible, that he fancied he was dreaming. + +"It's so bright, so beautiful--the snow, the field, the woods, the +sky. The breath of spring is upon everything. Yet people are going to +be killed. How can it be? Impossible!" So his thoughts ran in +confusion. He had the sensation of a man suddenly gone insane, who +finds he sees, hears and feels what he is not accustomed to, and ought +not hear, see and feel. + +The three men in black stood next to one another hard by the railing, +two quite close together, the short one some distance away. + +"Officer!" one of them cried in a desperate voice--Andersen could not +see which it was--"God sees us! Officer!" + +Eight soldiers dismounted quickly, their spurs and sabres catching +awkwardly. Evidently they were in a hurry, as if doing a thief's job. + +Several seconds passed in silence until the soldiers placed themselves +in a row a few feet from the black figures and levelled their guns. In +doing so one soldier knocked his cap from his head. He picked it up +and put it on again without brushing off the wet snow. + +The officer's mount still kept dancing on one spot with his ears +pricked, while the other horses, also with sharp ears erect to catch +every sound, stood motionless looking at the men in black, their long +wise heads inclined to one side. + +"Spare the boy at least!" another voice suddenly pierced the air. "Why +kill a child, damn you! What has the child done?" + +"Ivanov, do what I told you to do," thundered the officer, drowning +the other voice. His face turned as scarlet as a piece of red flannel. + +There followed a scene savage and repulsive in its gruesomeness. The +short figure in black, with the light hair and the rosy ears, uttered +a wild shriek in a shrill child's tones and reeled to one side. +Instantly it was caught up by two or three soldiers. But the boy began +to struggle, and two more soldiers ran up. + +"Ow-ow-ow-ow!" the boy cried. "Let me go, let me go! Ow-ow!" + +His shrill voice cut the air like the yell of a stuck porkling not +quite done to death. Suddenly he grew quiet. Some one must have struck +him. An unexpected, oppressive silence ensued. The boy was being +pushed forward. Then there came a deafening report. Andersen started +back all in a tremble. He saw distinctly, yet vaguely as in a dream, +the dropping of two dark bodies, the flash of pale sparks, and a light +smoke rising in the clean, bright atmosphere. He saw the soldiers +hastily mounting their horses without even glancing at the bodies. He +saw them galloping along the muddy road, their arms clanking, their +horses' hoofs clattering. + +He saw all this, himself now standing in the middle of the road, not +knowing when and why he had jumped from behind the haystack. He was +deathly pale. His face was covered with dank sweat, his body was +aquiver. A physical sadness smote and tortured him. He could not make +out the nature of the feeling. It was akin to extreme sickness, though +far more nauseating and terrible. + +After the soldiers had disappeared beyond the bend toward the woods, +people came hurrying to the spot of the shooting, though till then not +a soul had been in sight. + +The bodies lay at the roadside on the other side of the railing, where +the snow was clean, brittle and untrampled and glistened cheerfully in +the bright atmosphere. There were three dead bodies, two men and a +boy. The boy lay with his long soft neck stretched on the snow. The +face of the man next to the boy was invisible. He had fallen face +downward in a pool of blood. The third was a big man with a black +beard and huge, muscular arms. He lay stretched out to the full length +of his big body, his arms extended over a large area of blood-stained +snow. + +The three men who had been shot lay black against the white snow, +motionless. From afar no one could have told the terror that was in +their immobility as they lay there at the edge of the narrow road +crowded with people. + +That night Gabriel Andersen in his little room in the schoolhouse did +not write poems as usual. He stood at the window and looked at the +distant pale disk of the moon in the misty blue sky, and thought. And +his thoughts were confused, gloomy, and heavy as if a cloud had +descended upon his brain. + +Indistinctly outlined in the dull moonlight he saw the dark railing, +the trees, the empty garden. It seemed to him that he beheld them--the +three men who had been shot, two grown up, one a child. They were +lying there now at the roadside, in the empty, silent field, looking +at the far-off cold moon with their dead, white eyes as he with his +living eyes. + +"The time will come some day," he thought, "when the killing of people +by others will be an utter impossibility The time will come when even +the soldiers and officers who killed these three men will realise what +they have done and will understand that what they killed them for is +just as necessary, important, and dear to them--to the officers and +soldiers--as to those whom they killed. + +"Yes," he said aloud and solemnly, his eyes moistening, "that time +will come. They will understand." And the pale disk of the moon was +blotted out by the moisture in his eyes. + +A large pity pierced his heart for the three victims whose eyes looked +at the moon, sad and unseeing. A feeling of rage cut him as with a +sharp knife and took possession of him. + +But Gabriel Andersen quieted his heart, whispering softly, "They know +not what they do." And this old and ready phrase gave him the strength +to stifle his rage and indignation. + + + +II + + +The day was as bright and white, but the spring was already advanced. +The wet soil smelt of spring. Clear cold water ran everywhere from +under the loose, thawing snow. The branches of the trees were springy +and elastic. For miles and miles around, the country opened up in +clear azure stretches. + +Yet the clearness and the joy of the spring day were not in the +village. They were somewhere outside the village, where there were no +people--in the fields, the woods and the mountains. In the village the +air was stifling, heavy and terrible as in a nightmare. + +Gabriel Andersen stood in the road near a crowd of dark, sad, +absent-minded people and craned his neck to see the preparations for +the flogging of seven peasants. + +They stood in the thawing snow, and Gabriel Andersen could not +persuade himself that they were people whom he had long known and +understood. By that which was about to happen to them, the shameful, +terrible, ineradicable thing that was to happen to them, they were +separated from all the rest of the world, and so were unable to feel +what he, Gabriel Andersen, felt, just as he was unable to feel what +they felt. Round them were the soldiers, confidently and beautifully +mounted on high upon their large steeds, who tossed their wise heads +and turned their dappled wooden faces slowly from side to side, +looking contemptuously at him, Gabriel Andersen, who was soon to +behold this horror, this disgrace, and would do nothing, would not +dare to do anything. So it seemed to Gabriel Andersen; and a sense of +cold, intolerable shame gripped him as between two clamps of ice +through which he could see everything without being able to move, cry +out or utter a groan. + +They took the first peasant. Gabriel Andersen saw his strange, +imploring, hopeless look. His lips moved, but no sound was heard, and +his eyes wandered. There was a bright gleam in them as in the eyes of +a madman. His mind, it was evident, was no longer able to comprehend +what was happening. + +And so terrible was that face, at once full of reason and of madness, +that Andersen felt relieved when they put him face downward on the +snow and, instead of the fiery eyes, he saw his bare back +glistening--a senseless, shameful, horrible sight. + +The large, red-faced soldier in a red cap pushed toward him, looked +down at his body with seeming delight, and then cried in a clear +voice: + +"Well, let her go, with God's blessing!" + +Andersen seemed not to see the soldiers, the sky, the horses or the +crowd. He did not feel the cold, the terror or the shame. He did not +hear the swish of the knout in the air or the savage howl of pain and +despair. He only saw the bare back of a man's body swelling up and +covered over evenly with white and purple stripes. Gradually the bare +back lost the semblance of human flesh. The blood oozed and squirted, +forming patches, drops and rivulets, which ran down on the white, +thawing snow. + +Terror gripped the soul of Gabriel Andersen as he thought of the +moment when the man would rise and face all the people who had seen +his body bared out in the open and reduced to a bloody pulp. He closed +his eyes. When he opened them, he saw four soldiers in uniform and red +hats forcing another man down on the snow, his back bared just as +shamefully, terribly and absurdly--a ludicrously tragic sight. + +Then came the third, the fourth, and so on, to the end. + +And Gabriel Andersen stood on the wet, thawing snow, craning his neck, +trembling and stuttering, though he did not say a word. Dank sweat +poured from his body. A sense of shame permeated his whole being. It +was a humiliating feeling, having to escape being noticed so that they +should not catch him and lay him there on the snow and strip him +bare--him, Gabriel Andersen. + +The soldiers pressed and crowded, the horses tossed their heads, the +knout swished in the air, and the bare, shamed human flesh swelled up, +tore, ran over with blood, and curled like a snake. Oaths, wild +shrieks rained upon the village through the clean white air of that +spring day. + +Andersen now saw five men's faces at the steps of the town hall, the +faces of those men who had already undergone their shame. He quickly +turned his eyes away. After seeing this a man must die, he thought. + + + +III + + +There were seventeen of them, fifteen soldiers, a subaltern and a +young beardless officer. The officer lay in front of the fire looking +intently into the flames. The soldiers were tinkering with the +firearms in the wagon. + +Their grey figures moved about quietly on the black thawing ground, +and occasionally stumbled across the logs sticking out from the +blazing fire. + +Gabriel Andersen, wearing an overcoat and carrying his cane behind his +back, approached them. The subaltern, a stout fellow with a moustache, +jumped up, turned from the fire, and looked at him. + +"Who are you? What do you want?" he asked excitedly. From his tone it +was evident that the soldiers feared everybody in that district, +through which they went scattering death, destruction and torture. + +"Officer," he said, "there is a man here I don't know." + +The officer looked at Andersen without speaking. + +"Officer," said Andersen in a thin, strained voice, "my name is +Michelson. I am a business man here, and I am going to the village on +business. I was afraid I might be mistaken for some one else--you +know." + +"Then what are you nosing about here for?" the officer said angrily, +and turned away. + +"A business man," sneered a soldier. "He ought to be searched, this +business man ought, so as not to be knocking about at night. A good +one in the jaw is what he needs." + +"He's a suspicious character, officer," said the subaltern. "Don't you +think we'd better arrest him, what?" + +"Don't," answered the officer lazily. "I'm sick of them, damn 'em." + +Gabriel Andersen stood there without saying anything. His eyes flashed +strangely in the dark by the firelight. And it was strange to see his +short, substantial, clean, neat figure in the field at night among the +soldiers, with his overcoat and cane and glasses glistening in the +firelight. + +The soldiers left him and walked away. Gabriel Andersen remained +standing for a while. Then he turned and left, rapidly disappearing in +the darkness. + +The night was drawing to a close. The air turned chilly, and the tops +of the bushes defined themselves more clearly in the dark. Gabriel +Andersen went again to the military post. But this time he hid, +crouching low as he made his way under the cover of the bushes. Behind +him people moved about quietly and carefully, bending the bushes, +silent as shadows. Next to Gabriel, on his right, walked a tall man +with a revolver in his hand. + +The figure of a soldier on the hill outlined itself strangely, +unexpectedly, not where they had been looking for it. It was faintly +illumined by the gleam from the dying fire. Gabriel Andersen +recognised the soldier. It was the one who had proposed that he should +be searched. Nothing stirred in Andersen's heart. His face was cold +and motionless, as of a man who is asleep. Round the fire the soldiers +lay stretched out sleeping, all except the subaltern, who sat with his +head drooping over his knees. + +The tall thin man on Andersen's right raised the revolver and pulled +the trigger. A momentary blinding flash, a deafening report. + +Andersen saw the guard lift his hands and then sit down on the ground +clasping his bosom. From all directions short, crackling sparks +flashed up which combined into one riving roar. The subaltern jumped +up and dropped straight into the fire. Grey soldiers' figures moved +about in all directions like apparitions, throwing up their hands and +falling and writhing on the black earth. The young officer ran past +Andersen, fluttering his hands like some strange, frightened bird. +Andersen, as if he were thinking of something else, raised his cane. +With all his strength he hit the officer on the head, each blow +descending with a dull, ugly thud. The officer reeled in a circle, +struck a bush, and sat down after the second blow, covering his head +with both hands, as children do. Some one ran up and discharged a +revolver as if from Andersen's own hand. The officer sank together in +a heap and lunged with great force head foremost on the ground. His +legs twitched for a while, then he curled up quietly. + +The shots ceased. Black men with white faces, ghostly grey in the +dark, moved about the dead bodies of the soldiers, taking away their +arms and ammunition. + +Andersen watched all this with a cold, attentive stare. When all was +over, he went up, took hold of the burned subaltern's legs, and tried +to remove the body from the fire. But it was too heavy for him, and he +let it go. + + + +IV + + +Andersen sat motionless on the steps of the town hall, and thought. He +thought of how he, Gabriel Andersen, with his spectacles, cane, +overcoat and poems, had lied and betrayed fifteen men. He thought it +was terrible, yet there was neither pity, shame nor regret in his +heart. Were he to be set free, he knew that he, Gabriel Andersen, with +the spectacles and poems, would go straightway and do it again. He +tried to examine himself, to see what was going on inside his soul. +But his thoughts were heavy and confused. For some reason it was more +painful for him to think of the three men lying on the snow, looking +at the pale disk of the far-off moon with their dead, unseeing eyes, +than of the murdered officer whom he had struck two dry, ugly blows on +the head. Of his own death he did not think. It seemed to him that he +had done with everything long, long ago. Something had died, had gone +out and left him empty, and he must not think about it. + +And when they grabbed him by the shoulder and he rose, and they +quickly led him through the garden where the cabbages raised their dry +heads, he could not formulate a single thought. + +He was conducted to the road and placed at the railing with his back +to one of the iron bars. He fixed his spectacles, put his hands behind +him, and stood there with his neat, stocky body, his head slightly +inclined to one side. + +At the last moment he looked in front of him and saw rifle barrels +pointing at his head, chest and stomach, and pale faces with trembling +lips. He distinctly saw how one barrel levelled at his forehead +suddenly dropped. + +Something strange and incomprehensible, as if no longer of this world, +no longer earthly, passed through Andersen's mind. He straightened +himself to the full height of his short body and threw back his head +in simple pride. A strange indistinct sense of cleanness, strength and +pride filled his soul, and everything--the sun and the sky and the +people and the field and death--seemed to him insignificant, remote +and useless. + +The bullets hit him in the chest, in the left eye, in the stomach, +went through his clean coat buttoned all the way up. His glasses +shivered into bits. He uttered a shriek, circled round, and fell with +his face against one of the iron bars, his one remaining eye wide +open. He clawed the ground with his outstretched hands as if trying to +support himself. + +The officer, who had turned green, rushed toward him, and senselessly +thrust the revolver against his neck, and fired twice. Andersen +stretched out on the ground. + +The soldiers left quickly. But Andersen remained pressed flat to the +ground. The index finger of his left hand continued to quiver for +about ten seconds. + + + + +THE OUTRAGE--A TRUE STORY + + + +BY ALEKSANDR I. KUPRIN + + +It was five o'clock on a July afternoon. The heat was terrible. The +whole of the huge stone-built town breathed out heat like a glowing +furnace. The glare of the white-walled house was insufferable. The +asphalt pavements grew soft and burned the feet. The shadows of the +acacias spread over the cobbled road, pitiful and weary. They too +seemed hot. The sea, pale in the sunlight, lay heavy and immobile as +one dead. Over the streets hung a white dust. + +In the foyer of one of the private theatres a small committee of local +barristers who had undertaken to conduct the cases of those who had +suffered in the last pogrom against the Jews was reaching the end of +its daily task. There were nineteen of them, all juniors, young, +progressive and conscientious men. The sitting was without formality, +and white suits of duck, flannel and alpaca were in the majority. They +sat anywhere, at little marble tables, and the chairman stood in front +of an empty counter where chocolates were sold in the winter. + +The barristers were quite exhausted by the heat which poured in +through the windows, with the dazzling sunlight and the noise of the +streets. The proceedings went lazily and with a certain irritation. + +A tall young man with a fair moustache and thin hair was in the chair. +He was dreaming voluptuously how he would be off in an instant on his +new-bought bicycle to the bungalow. He would undress quickly, and +without waiting to cool, still bathed in sweat, would fling himself +into the clear, cold, sweet-smelling sea. His whole body was enervated +and tense, thrilled by the thought. Impatiently moving the papers +before him, he spoke in a drowsy voice. + +"So, Joseph Moritzovich will conduct the case of Rubinchik... Perhaps +there is still a statement to be made on the order of the day?" + +His youngest colleague, a short, stout Karaite, very black and lively, +said in a whisper so that every one could hear: "On the order of the +day, the best thing would be iced _kvas_..." + +The chairman gave him a stern side-glance, but could not restrain a +smile. He sighed and put both his hands on the table to raise himself +and declare the meeting closed, when the doorkeeper, who stood at the +entrance to the theatre, suddenly moved forward and said: "There are +seven people outside, sir. They want to come in." + +The chairman looked impatiently round the company. + +"What is to be done, gentlemen?" + +Voices were heard. + +"Next time. _Basta!_" + +"Let 'em put it in writing." + +"If they'll get it over quickly... Decide it at once." + +"Let 'em go to the devil. Phew! It's like boiling pitch." + +"Let them in." The chairman gave a sign with his head, annoyed. "Then +bring me a Vichy, please. But it must be cold." + +The porter opened the door and called down the corridor: "Come in. +They say you may." + +Then seven of the most surprising and unexpected individuals filed +into the foyer. First appeared a full-grown, confident man in a smart +suit, of the colour of dry sea-sand, in a magnificent pink shirt with +white stripes and a crimson rose in his buttonhole. From the front his +head looked like an upright bean, from the side like a horizontal +bean. His face was adorned with a strong, bushy, martial moustache. He +wore dark blue pince-nez on his nose, on his hands straw-coloured +gloves. In his left hand he held a black walking-stick with a silver +mount, in his right a light blue handkerchief. + +The other six produced a strange, chaotic, incongruous impression, +exactly as though they had all hastily pooled not merely their +clothes, but their hands, feet and heads as well. There was a man with +the splendid profile of a Roman senator, dressed in rags and tatters. +Another wore an elegant dress waistcoat, from the deep opening of +which a dirty Little-Russian shirt leapt to the eye. Here were the +unbalanced faces of the criminal type, but looking with a confidence +that nothing could shake. All these men, in spite of their apparent +youth, evidently possessed a large experience of life, an easy manner, +a bold approach, and some hidden, suspicious cunning. + +The gentleman in the sandy suit bowed just his head, neatly and +easily, and said with a half-question in his voice: "Mr. Chairman?" + +"Yes. I am the chairman. What is your business?" + +"We--all whom you see before you," the gentleman began in a quiet +voice and turned round to indicate his companions, "we come as +delegates from the United Rostov-Kharkov-and-Odessa-Nikolayev +Association of Thieves." + +The barristers began to shift in their seats. + +The chairman flung himself back and opened his eyes wide. "Association +of _what_?" he said, perplexed. + +"The Association of Thieves," the gentleman in the sandy suit coolly +repeated. "As for myself, my comrades did me the signal honour of +electing me as the spokesman of the deputation." + +"Very ... pleased," the chairman said uncertainly. + +"Thank you. All seven of us are ordinary thieves--naturally of +different departments. The Association has authorised us to put before +your esteemed Committee"--the gentleman again made an elegant +bow--"our respectful demand for assistance." + +"I don't quite understand ... quite frankly ... what is the +connection..." The chairman waved his hands helplessly. "However, +please go on." + +"The matter about which we have the courage and the honour to apply to +you, gentlemen, is very clear, very simple, and very brief. It will +take only six or seven minutes. I consider it my duty to warn you of +this beforehand, in view of the late hour and the 115 degrees that +Fahrenheit marks in the shade." The orator expectorated slightly and +glanced at his superb gold watch. "You see, in the reports that have +lately appeared in the local papers of the melancholy and terrible +days of the last pogrom, there have very often been indications that +among the instigators of the pogrom who were paid and organised by the +police--the dregs of society, consisting of drunkards, tramps, +souteneurs, and hooligans from the slums--thieves were also to be +found. At first we were silent, but finally we considered ourselves +under the necessity of protesting against such an unjust and serious +accusation, before the face of the whole of intellectual society. I +know well that in the eye of the law we are offenders and enemies of +society. But imagine only for a moment, gentlemen, the situation of +this enemy of society when he is accused wholesale of an offence which +he not only never committed, but which he is ready to resist with the +whole strength of his soul. It goes without saying that he will feel +the outrage of such an injustice more keenly than a normal, average, +fortunate citizen. Now, we declare that the accusation brought against +us is utterly devoid of all basis, not merely of fact but even of +logic. I intend to prove this in a few words if the honourable +committee will kindly listen." + +"Proceed," said the chairman. + +"Please do ... Please ..." was heard from the barristers, now +animated. + +"I offer you my sincere thanks in the name of all my comrades. Believe +me, you will never repent your attention to the representatives of our +... well, let us say, slippery, but nevertheless difficult, +profession. 'So we begin,' as Giraldoni sings in the prologue to +_Pagliacci_. + +"But first I would ask your permission, Mr. Chairman, to quench my +thirst a little... Porter, bring me a lemonade and a glass of English +bitter, there's a good fellow. Gentlemen, I will not speak of the +moral aspect of our profession nor of its social importance. Doubtless +you know better than I the striking and brilliant paradox of Proudhon: +_La propriete c'est le vol_--a paradox if you like, but one that has +never yet been refuted by the sermons of cowardly bourgeois or fat +priests. For instance: a father accumulates a million by energetic and +clever exploitation, and leaves it to his son--a rickety, lazy, +ignorant, degenerate idiot, a brainless maggot, a true parasite. +Potentially a million rubles is a million working days, the absolutely +irrational right to labour, sweat, life, and blood of a terrible +number of men. Why? What is the ground of reason? Utterly unknown. +Then why not agree with the proposition, gentlemen, that our +profession is to some extent as it were a correction of the excessive +accumulation of values in the hands of individuals, and serves as a +protest against all the hardships, abominations, arbitrariness, +violence, and negligence of the human personality, against all the +monstrosities created by the bourgeois capitalistic organisation of +modern society? Sooner or later, this order of things will assuredly +be overturned by the social revolution. Property will pass away into +the limbo of melancholy memories and with it, alas! we will disappear +from the face of the earth, we, _les braves chevaliers d'industrie_." + +The orator paused to take the tray from the hands of the porter, and +placed it near to his hand on the table. + +"Excuse me, gentlemen... Here, my good man, take this,... and by the +way, when you go out shut the door close behind you." + +"Very good, your Excellency!" the porter bawled in jest. + +The orator drank off half a glass and continued: "However, let us +leave aside the philosophical, social, and economic aspects of the +question. I do not wish to fatigue your attention. I must nevertheless +point out that our profession very closely approaches the idea of that +which is called art. Into it enter all the elements which go to form +art--vocation, inspiration, fantasy, inventiveness, ambition, and a +long and arduous apprenticeship to the science. From it is absent +virtue alone, concerning which the great Karamzin wrote with such +stupendous and fiery fascination. Gentlemen, nothing is further from +my intention than to trifle with you and waste your precious time with +idle paradoxes; but I cannot avoid expounding my idea briefly. To an +outsider's ear it sounds absurdly wild and ridiculous to speak of the +vocation of a thief. However, I venture to assure you that this +vocation is a reality. There are men who possess a peculiarly strong +visual memory, sharpness and accuracy of eye, presence of mind, +dexterity of hand, and above all a subtle sense of touch, who are as +it were born into God's world for the sole and special purpose of +becoming distinguished card-sharpers. The pickpockets' profession +demands extraordinary nimbleness and agility, a terrific certainty of +movement, not to mention a ready wit, a talent for observation and +strained attention. Some have a positive vocation for breaking open +safes: from their tenderest childhood they are attracted by the +mysteries of every kind of complicated mechanism--bicycles, sewing +machines, clock-work toys and watches. Finally, gentlemen, there are +people with an hereditary animus against private property. You may +call this phenomenon degeneracy. But I tell you that you cannot entice +a true thief, and thief by vocation, into the prose of honest +vegetation by any gingerbread reward, or by the offer of a secure +position, or by the gift of money, or by a woman's love: because there +is here a permanent beauty of risk, a fascinating abyss of danger, the +delightful sinking of the heart, the impetuous pulsation of life, the +ecstasy! You are armed with the protection of the law, by locks, +revolvers, telephones, police and soldiery; but we only by our own +dexterity, cunning and fearlessness. We are the foxes, and society--is +a chicken-run guarded by dogs. Are you aware that the most artistic +and gifted natures in our villages become horse-thieves and poachers? +What would you have? Life is so meagre, so insipid, so intolerably +dull to eager and high-spirited souls! + +"I pass on to inspiration. Gentlemen, doubtless you have had to read +of thefts that were supernatural in design and execution. In the +headlines of the newspapers they are called 'An Amazing Robbery,' or +'An Ingenious Swindle,' or again 'A Clever Ruse of the Gangsters.' In +such cases our bourgeois paterfamilias waves his hands and exclaims: +'What a terrible thing! If only their abilities were turned to +good--their inventiveness, their amazing knowledge of human +psychology, their self-possession, their fearlessness, their +incomparable histrionic powers! What extraordinary benefits they would +bring to the country!' But it is well known that the bourgeois +paterfamilias was specially devised by Heaven to utter commonplaces +and trivialities. I myself sometimes--we thieves are sentimental +people, I confess--I myself sometimes admire a beautiful sunset in +Aleksandra Park or by the sea-shore. And I am always certain +beforehand that some one near me will say with infallible _aplomb_: +'Look at it. If it were put into picture no one would ever believe +it!' I turn round and naturally I see a self-satisfied, full-fed +paterfamilias, who delights in repeating some one else's silly +statement as though it were his own. As for our dear country, the +bourgeois paterfamilias looks upon it as though it were a roast +turkey. If you've managed to cut the best part of the bird for +yourself, eat it quietly in a comfortable corner and praise God. But +he's not really the important person. I was led away by my detestation +of vulgarity and I apologise for the digression. The real point is +that genius and inspiration, even when they are not devoted to the +service of the Orthodox Church, remain rare and beautiful things. +Progress is a law--and theft too has its creation. + +"Finally, our profession is by no means as easy and pleasant as it +seems to the first glance. It demands long experience, constant +practice, slow and painful apprenticeship. It comprises in itself +hundreds of supple, skilful processes that the cleverest juggler +cannot compass. That I may not give you only empty words, gentlemen, I +will perform a few experiments before you now. I ask you to have every +confidence in the demonstrators. We are all at present in the +enjoyment of legal freedom, and though we are usually watched, and +every one of us is known by face, and our photographs adorn the albums +of all detective departments, for the time being we are not under the +necessity of hiding ourselves from anybody. If any one of you should +recognise any of us in the future under different circumstances, we +ask you earnestly always to act in accordance with your professional +duties and your obligations as citizens. In grateful return for your +kind attention we have decided to declare your property inviolable, +and to invest it with a thieves' taboo. However, I proceed to +business." + +The orator turned round and gave an order: "Sesoi the Great, will you +come this way!" + +An enormous fellow with a stoop, whose hands reached to his knees, +without a forehead or a neck, like a big, fair Hercules, came forward. +He grinned stupidly and rubbed his left eyebrow in his confusion. + +"Can't do nothin' here," he said hoarsely. + +The gentleman in the sandy suit spoke for him, turning to the +committee. + +"Gentlemen, before you stands a respected member of our association. +His specialty is breaking open safes, iron strong boxes, and other +receptacles for monetary tokens. In his night work he sometimes avails +himself of the electric current of the lighting installation for +fusing metals. Unfortunately he has nothing on which he can +demonstrate the best items of his repertoire. He will open the most +elaborate lock irreproachably... By the way, this door here, it's +locked, is it not?" + +Every one turned to look at the door, on which a printed notice hung: +"Stage Door. Strictly Private." + +"Yes, the door's locked, evidently," the chairman agreed. + +"Admirable. Sesoi the Great, will you be so kind?" + +"'Tain't nothin' at all," said the giant leisurely. + +He went close to the door, shook it cautiously with his hand, took out +of his pocket a small bright instrument, bent down to the keyhole, +made some almost imperceptible movements with the tool, suddenly +straightened and flung the door wide in silence. The chairman had his +watch in his hands. The whole affair took only ten seconds. + +"Thank you, Sesoi the Great," said the gentleman in the sandy suit +politely. "You may go back to your seat." + +But the chairman interrupted in some alarm: "Excuse me. This is all +very interesting and instructive, but ... is it included in your +esteemed colleague's profession to be able to lock the door again?" + +"Ah, _mille pardons_." The gentleman bowed hurriedly. "It slipped my +mind. Sesoi the Great, would you oblige?" + +The door was locked with the same adroitness and the same silence. The +esteemed colleague waddled back to his friends, grinning. + +"Now I will have the honour to show you the skill of one of our +comrades who is in the line of picking pockets in theatres and +railway-stations," continued the orator. "He is still very young, but +you may to some extent judge from the delicacy of his present work of +the heights he will attain by diligence. Yasha!" A swarthy youth in a +blue silk blouse and long glace boots, like a gipsy, came forward with +a swagger, fingering the tassels of his belt, and merrily screwing up +his big, impudent black eyes with yellow whites. + +"Gentlemen," said the gentleman in the sandy suit persuasively, "I +must ask if one of you would be kind enough to submit himself to a +little experiment. I assure you this will be an exhibition only, just +a game." + +He looked round over the seated company. + +The short plump Karaite, black as a beetle, came forward from his +table. + +"At your service," he said amusedly. + +"Yasha!" The orator signed with his head. + +Yasha came close to the solicitor. On his left arm, which was bent, +hung a bright-coloured, figured scarf. + +"Suppose yer in church or at the bar in one of the halls,--or watchin' +a circus," he began in a sugary, fluent voice. "I see straight +off--there's a toff... Excuse me, sir. Suppose you're the toff. +There's no offence--just means a rich gent, decent enough, but don't +know his way about. First--what's he likely to have about 'im? All +sorts. Mostly, a ticker and a chain. Whereabouts does he keep 'em? +Somewhere in his top vest pocket--here. Others have 'em in the bottom +pocket. Just here. Purse--most always in the trousers, except when a +greeny keeps it in his jacket. Cigar-case. Have a look first what it +is--gold, silver--with a monogram. Leather--what decent man'd soil his +hands? Cigar-case. Seven pockets: here, here, here, up there, there, +here and here again. That's right, ain't it? That's how you go to +work." + +As he spoke the young man smiled. His eyes shone straight into the +barrister's. With a quick, dexterous movement of his right hand he +pointed to various portions of his clothes. + +"Then again you might see a pin here in the tie. However we do not +appropriate. Such _gents_ nowadays--they hardly ever wear a real +stone. Then I comes up to him. I begin straight off to talk to him +like a gent: 'Sir, would you be so kind as to give me a light from +your cigarette'--or something of the sort. At any rate, I enter into +conversation. What's next? I look him straight in the peepers, just +like this. Only two of me fingers are at it--just this and this." +Yasha lifted two fingers of his right hand on a level with the +solicitor's face, the forefinger and the middle finger and moved them +about. + +"D' you see? With these two fingers I run over the whole pianner. +Nothin' wonderful in it: one, two, three--ready. Any man who wasn't +stupid could learn easily. That's all it is. Most ordinary business. I +thank you." + +The pickpocket swung on his heel as if to return to his seat. + +"Yasha!" The gentleman in the sandy suit said with meaning weight. +"Yasha!" he repeated sternly. + +Yasha stopped. His back was turned to the barrister, but be evidently +gave his representative an imploring look, because the latter frowned +and shook his head. + +"Yasha!" he said for the third time, in a threatening tone. + +"Huh!" The young thief grunted in vexation and turned to face the +solicitor. "Where's your little watch, sir?" he said in a piping +voice. + +"Oh!" the Karaite brought himself up sharp. + +"You see--now you say 'Oh!'" Yasha continued reproachfully. "All the +while you were admiring me right hand, I was operatin' yer watch with +my left. Just with these two little fingers, under the scarf. That's +why we carry a scarf. Since your chain's not worth anything--a present +from some _mamselle_ and the watch is a gold one, I've left you the +chain as a keepsake. Take it," he added with a sigh, holding out the +watch. + +"But ... That is clever," the barrister said in confusion. "I didn't +notice it at all." + +"That's our business," Yasha said with pride. + +He swaggered back to his comrades. Meantime the orator took a drink +from his glass and continued. + +"Now, gentlemen, our next collaborator will give you an exhibition of +some ordinary card tricks, which are worked at fairs, on steamboats +and railways. With three cards, for instance, an ace, a queen, and a +six, he can quite easily... But perhaps you are tired of these +demonstrations, gentlemen."... + +"Not at all. It's extremely interesting," the chairman answered +affably. "I should like to ask one question--that is if it is not too +indiscreet--what is your own specialty?" + +"Mine... H'm... No, how could it be an indiscretion?... I work the big +diamond shops ... and my other business is banks," answered the orator +with a modest smile. "Don't think this occupation is easier than +others. Enough that I know four European languages, German, French, +English, and Italian, not to mention Polish, Ukrainian and Yiddish. +But shall I show you some more experiments, Mr. Chairman?" + +The chairman looked at his watch. + +"Unfortunately the time is too short," he said. "Wouldn't it be better +to pass on to the substance of your business? Besides, the experiments +we have just seen have amply convinced us of the talent of your +esteemed associates... Am I not right, Isaac Abramovich?" + +"Yes, yes ... absolutely," the Karaite barrister readily confirmed. + +"Admirable," the gentleman in the sandy suit kindly agreed. "My dear +Count"--he turned to a blond, curly-haired man, with a face like a +billiard-maker on a bank-holiday--"put your instruments away. They +will not be wanted. I have only a few words more to say, gentlemen. +Now that you have convinced yourselves that our art, although it does +not enjoy the patronage of high-placed individuals, is nevertheless an +art; and you have probably come to my opinion that this art is one +which demands many personal qualities besides constant labour, danger, +and unpleasant misunderstandings--you will also, I hope, believe that +it is possible to become attached to its practice and to love and +esteem it, however strange that may appear at first sight. Picture to +yourselves that a famous poet of talent, whose tales and poems adorn +the pages of our best magazines, is suddenly offered the chance of +writing verses at a penny a line, signed into the bargain, as an +advertisement for 'Cigarettes Jasmine'--or that a slander was spread +about one of you distinguished barristers, accusing you of making a +business of concocting evidence for divorce cases, or of writing +petitions from the cabmen to the governor in public-houses! Certainly +your relatives, friends and acquaintances wouldn't believe it. But the +rumour has already done its poisonous work, and you have to live +through minutes of torture. Now picture to yourselves that such a +disgraceful and vexatious slander, started by God knows whom, begins +to threaten not only your good name and your quiet digestion, but your +freedom, your health, and even your life! + +"This is the position of us thieves, now being slandered by the +newspapers. I must explain. There is in existence a class of +scum--_passez-moi le mot_--whom we call their 'Mothers' Darlings.' +With these we are unfortunately confused. They have neither shame nor +conscience, a dissipated riff-raff, mothers' useless darlings, idle, +clumsy drones, shop assistants who commit unskilful thefts. He thinks +nothing of living on his mistress, a prostitute, like the male +mackerel, who always swims after the female and lives on her +excrements. He is capable of robbing a child with violence in a dark +alley, in order to get a penny; he will kill a man in his sleep and +torture an old woman. These men are the pests of our profession. For +them the beauties and the traditions of the art have no existence. +They watch us real, talented thieves like a pack of jackals after a +lion. Suppose I've managed to bring off an important job--we won't +mention the fact that I have to leave two-thirds of what I get to the +receivers who sell the goods and discount the notes, or the customary +subsidies to our incorruptible police--I still have to share out +something to each one of these parasites, who have got wind of my job, +by accident, hearsay, or a casual glance. + +"So we call them _Motients_, which means 'half,' a corruption of +_moitie_ ... Original etymology. I pay him only because he knows and +may inform against me. And it mostly happens that even when he's got +his share he runs off to the police in order to get another dollar. +We, honest thieves... Yes, you may laugh, gentlemen, but I repeat it: +we honest thieves detest these reptiles. We have another name for +them, a stigma of ignominy; but I dare not utter it here out of +respect for the place and for my audience. Oh, yes, they would gladly +accept an invitation to a pogrom. The thought that we may be confused +with them is a hundred times more insulting to us even than the +accusation of taking part in a pogrom. + +"Gentlemen! While I have been speaking I have often noticed smiles on +your faces. I understand you. Our presence here, our application for +your assistance, and above all the unexpectedness of such a phenomenon +as a systematic organisation of thieves, with delegates who are +thieves, and a leader of the deputation, also a thief by +profession--it is all so original that it must inevitably arouse a +smile. But now I will speak from the depth of my heart. Let us be rid +of our outward wrappings, gentlemen, let us speak as men to men. + +"Almost all of us are educated, and all love books. We don't only read +the adventures of Roqueambole, as the realistic writers say of us. Do +you think our hearts did not bleed and our cheeks did not burn from +shame, as though we had been slapped in the face, all the time that +this unfortunate, disgraceful, accursed, cowardly war lasted. Do you +really think that our souls do not flame with anger when our country +is lashed with Cossack-whips, and trodden under foot, shot and spit at +by mad, exasperated men? Will you not believe that we thieves meet +every step towards the liberation to come with a thrill of ecstasy? + +"We understand, every one of us--perhaps only a little less than you +barristers, gentlemen--the real sense of the pogroms. Every time that +some dastardly event or some ignominious failure has occurred, after +executing a martyr in a dark corner of a fortress, or after deceiving +public confidence, some one who is hidden and unapproachable gets +frightened of the people's anger and diverts its vicious element upon +the heads of innocent Jews. Whose diabolical mind invents these +pogroms--these titanic blood-lettings, these cannibal amusements for +the dark, bestial souls? + +"We all see with certain clearness that the last convulsions of the +bureaucracy are at hand. Forgive me if I present it imaginatively. +There was a people that had a chief temple, wherein dwelt a +bloodthirsty deity, behind a curtain, guarded by priests. Once +fearless hands tore the curtain away. Then all the people saw, instead +of a god, a huge, shaggy, voracious spider, like a loathsome +cuttlefish. They beat it and shoot at it: it is dismembered already; +but still in the frenzy of its final agony it stretches over all the +ancient temple its disgusting, clawing tentacles. And the priests, +themselves under sentence of death, push into the monster's grasp all +whom they can seize in their terrified, trembling fingers. + +"Forgive me. What I have said is probably wild and incoherent. But I +am somewhat agitated. Forgive me. I continue. We thieves by profession +know better than any one else how these pogroms were organised. We +wander everywhere: into public houses, markets, tea-shops, +doss-houses, public places, the harbour. We can swear before God and +man and posterity that we have seen how the police organise the +massacres, without shame and almost without concealment. We know them +all by face, in uniform or disguise. They invited many of us to take +part; but there was none so vile among us as to give even the outward +consent that fear might have extorted. + +"You know, of course, how the various strata of Russian society behave +towards the police? It is not even respected by those who avail +themselves of its dark services. But we despise and hate it three, ten +times more--not because many of us have been tortured in the detective +departments, which are just chambers of horror, beaten almost to +death, beaten with whips of ox-hide and of rubber in order to extort a +confession or to make us betray a comrade. Yes, we hate them for that +too. But we thieves, all of us who have been in prison, have a mad +passion for freedom. Therefore we despise our gaolers with all the +hatred that a human heart can feel. I will speak for myself. I have +been tortured three times by police detectives till I was half dead. +My lungs and liver have been shattered. In the mornings I spit blood +until I can breathe no more. But if I were told that I will be spared +a fourth flogging only by shaking hands with a chief of the detective +police, I would refuse to do it! + +"And then the newspapers say that we took from these hands +Judas-money, dripping with human blood. No, gentlemen, it is a slander +which stabs our very soul, and inflicts insufferable pain. Not money, +nor threats, nor promises will suffice to make us mercenary murderers +of our brethren, nor accomplices with them." + +"Never ... No ... No ... ," his comrades standing behind him began to +murmur. + +"I will say more," the thief continued. "Many of us protected the +victims during this pogrom. Our friend, called Sesoi the Great--you +have just seen him, gentlemen--was then lodging with a Jewish +braid-maker on the Moldavanka. With a poker in his hands he defended +his landlord from a great horde of assassins. It is true, Sesoi the +Great is a man of enormous physical strength, and this is well known +to many of the inhabitants of the Moldavanka. But you must agree, +gentlemen, that in these moments Sesoi the Great looked straight into +the face of death. Our comrade Martin the Miner--this gentleman here" +--the orator pointed to a pale, bearded man with beautiful eyes who +was holding himself in the background--"saved an old Jewess, whom he +had never seen before, who was being pursued by a crowd of these +_canaille_. They broke his head with a crowbar for his pains, smashed +his arm in two places and splintered a rib. He is only just out of +hospital. That is the way our most ardent and determined members +acted. The others trembled for anger and wept for their own impotence. + +"None of us will forget the horrors of those bloody days and bloody +nights lit up by the glare of fires, those sobbing women, those little +children's bodies torn to pieces and left lying in the street. But for +all that not one of us thinks that the police and the mob are the real +origin of the evil. These tiny, stupid, loathsome vermin are only a +senseless fist that is governed by a vile, calculating mind, moved by +a diabolical will. + +"Yes, gentlemen," the orator continued, "we thieves have nevertheless +merited your legal contempt. But when you, noble gentlemen, need the +help of clever, brave, obedient men at the barricades, men who will be +ready to meet death with a song and a jest on their lips for the most +glorious word in the world--Freedom--will you cast us off then and +order us away because of an inveterate revulsion? Damn it all, the +first victim in the French Revolution was a prostitute. She jumped up +on to a barricade, with her skirt caught elegantly up into her hand +and called out: 'Which of you soldiers will dare to shoot a woman?' +Yes, by God." The orator exclaimed aloud and brought down his fist on +to the marble table top: "They killed her, but her action was +magnificent, and the beauty of her words immortal. + +"If you should drive us away on the great day, we will turn to you and +say: 'You spotless Cherubim--if human thoughts had the power to wound, +kill, and rob man of honour and property, then which of you innocent +doves would not deserve the knout and imprisonment for life?' Then we +will go away from you and build our own gay, sporting, desperate +thieves' barricade, and will die with such united songs on our lips +that you will envy us, you who are whiter than snow! + +"But I have been once more carried away. Forgive me. I am at the end. +You now see, gentlemen, what feelings the newspaper slanders have +excited in us. Believe in our sincerity and do what you can to remove +the filthy stain which has so unjustly been cast upon us. I have +finished." + +He went away from the table and joined his comrades. The barristers +were whispering in an undertone, very much as the magistrates of the +bench at sessions. Then the chairman rose. + +"We trust you absolutely, and we will make every effort to clear your +association of this most grievous charge. At the same time my +colleagues have authorised me, gentlemen, to convey to you their deep +respect for your passionate feelings as citizens. And for my own part +I ask the leader of the deputation for permission to shake him by the +hand." + +The two men, both tall and serious, held each other's hands in a +strong, masculine grip. + +The barristers were leaving the theatre; but four of them hung back a +little beside the clothes rack in the hall. Isaac Abramovich could not +find his new, smart grey hat anywhere. In its place on the wooden peg +hung a cloth cap jauntily flattened in on either side. + +"Yasha!" The stern voice of the orator was suddenly heard from the +other side of the door. "Yasha! It's the last time I'll speak to you, +curse you! ... Do you hear?" The heavy door opened wide. The gentleman +in the sandy suit entered. In his hands he held Isaac Abramovich's +hat; on his face was a well-bred smile. + +"Gentlemen, for Heaven's sake forgive us--an odd little +misunderstanding. One of our comrades exchanged his hat by accident... +Oh, it is yours! A thousand pardons. Doorkeeper! Why don't you keep an +eye on things, my good fellow, eh? Just give me that cap, there. Once +more, I ask you to forgive me, gentlemen." + +With a pleasant bow and the same well-bred smile he made his way +quickly into the street. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Best Russian Short Stories, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEST RUSSIAN SHORT STORIES *** + +***** This file should be named 13437.txt or 13437.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.net/1/3/4/3/13437/ + +Produced by David Starner, Keith M. Eckrich, and the Project Gutenberg +Online Distributed Proofreaders Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + +Title: Anna Karenina + +Author: Leo Tolstoy + +Translator: Constance Garnett + +Release Date: April 2, 2005 [EBook #1399] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANNA KARENINA *** + + + + +Etext prepared by David Brannan + + + + + + +Anna Karenina + +by Leo Tolstoy + + + + +Translated by Constance Garnett + + + + +Part One + + + +Chapter 1 + + +Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in +its own way. + +Everything was in confusion in the Oblonskys' house. The wife +had discovered that the husband was carrying on an intrigue with +a French girl, who had been a governess in their family, and she +had announced to her husband that she could not go on living in +the same house with him. This position of affairs had now lasted +three days, and not only the husband and wife themselves, but all +the members of their family and household, were painfully +conscious of it. Every person in the house felt that there was +no sense in their living together, and that the stray people +brought together by chance in any inn had more in common with one +another than they, the members of the family and household of the +Oblonskys. The wife did not leave her own room, the husband had +not been at home for three days. The children ran wild all over +the house; the English governess quarreled with the housekeeper, +and wrote to a friend asking her to look out for a new situation +for her; the man-cook had walked off the day before just at +dinner time; the kitchen-maid, and the coachman had given +warning. + +Three days after the quarrel, Prince Stepan Arkadyevitch +Oblonsky--Stiva, as he was called in the fashionable world-- +woke up at his usual hour, that is, at eight o'clock in the +morning, not in his wife's bedroom, but on the leather-covered +sofa in his study. He turned over his stout, well-cared-for +person on the springy sofa, as though he would sink into a long +sleep again; he vigorously embraced the pillow on the other side +and buried his face in it; but all at once he jumped up, sat up +on the sofa, and opened his eyes. + +"Yes, yes, how was it now?" he thought, going over his dream. +"Now, how was it? To be sure! Alabin was giving a dinner at +Darmstadt; no, not Darmstadt, but something American. Yes, but +then, Darmstadt was in America. Yes, Alabin was giving a dinner +on glass tables, and the tables sang, _Il mio tesoro_--not _Il mio +tesoro_ though, but something better, and there were some sort of +little decanters on the table, and they were women, too," he +remembered. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch's eyes twinkled gaily, and he pondered with a +smile. "Yes, it was nice, very nice. There was a great deal +more that was delightful, only there's no putting it into words, +or even expressing it in one's thoughts awake." And noticing a +gleam of light peeping in beside one of the serge curtains, he +cheerfully dropped his feet over the edge of the sofa, and felt +about with them for his slippers, a present on his last birthday, +worked for him by his wife on gold-colored morocco. And, as he +had done every day for the last nine years, he stretched out his +hand, without getting up, towards the place where his +dressing-gown always hung in his bedroom. And thereupon he +suddenly remembered that he was not sleeping in his wife's room, +but in his study, and why: the smile vanished from his face, he +knitted his brows. + +"Ah, ah, ah! Oo!..." he muttered, recalling everything that had +happened. And again every detail of his quarrel with his wife +was present to his imagination, all the hopelessness of his +position, and worst of all, his own fault. + +"Yes, she won't forgive me, and she can't forgive me. And the +most awful thing about it is that it's all my fault--all my +fault, though I'm not to blame. That's the point of the whole +situation," he reflected. "Oh, oh, oh!" he kept repeating in +despair, as he remembered the acutely painful sensations caused +him by this quarrel. + +Most unpleasant of all was the first minute when, on coming, +happy and good-humored, from the theater, with a huge pear in his +hand for his wife, he had not found his wife in the drawing-room, +to his surprise had not found her in the study either, and saw +her at last in her bedroom with the unlucky letter that revealed +everything in her hand. + +She, his Dolly, forever fussing and worrying over household +details, and limited in her ideas, as he considered, was sitting +perfectly still with the letter in her hand, looking at him with +an expression of horror, despair, and indignation. + +"What's this? this?" she asked, pointing to the letter. + +And at this recollection, Stepan Arkadyevitch, as is so often the +case, was not so much annoyed at the fact itself as at the way in +which he had met his wife's words. + +There happened to him at that instant what does happen to people +when they are unexpectedly caught in something very disgraceful. +He did not succeed in adapting his face to the position in which +he was placed towards his wife by the discovery of his fault. +Instead of being hurt, denying, defending himself, begging +forgiveness, instead of remaining indifferent even--anything +would have been better than what he did do--his face utterly +involuntarily (reflex spinal action, reflected Stepan +Arkadyevitch, who was fond of physiology)--utterly involuntarily +assumed its habitual, good-humored, and therefore idiotic smile. + +This idiotic smile he could not forgive himself. Catching sight +of that smile, Dolly shuddered as though at physical pain, broke +out with her characteristic heat into a flood of cruel words, and +rushed out of the room. Since then she had refused to see her +husband. + +"It's that idiotic smile that's to blame for it all," thought +Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +"But what's to be done? What's to be done?" he said to himself +in despair, and found no answer. + + + +Chapter 2 + + +Stepan Arkadyevitch was a truthful man in his relations with +himself. He was incapable of deceiving himself and persuading +himself that he repented of his conduct. He could not at this +date repent of the fact that he, a handsome, susceptible man of +thirty-four, was not in love with his wife, the mother of five +living and two dead children, and only a year younger than +himself. All he repented of was that he had not succeeded better +in hiding it from his wife. But he felt all the difficulty of +his position and was sorry for his wife, his children, and +himself. Possibly he might have managed to conceal his sins +better from his wife if he had anticipated that the knowledge of +them would have had such an effect on her. He had never clearly +thought out the subject, but he had vaguely conceived that his +wife must long ago have suspected him of being unfaithful to her, +and shut her eyes to the fact. He had even supposed that she, a +worn-out woman no longer young or good-looking, and in no way +remarkable or interesting, merely a good mother, ought from a +sense of fairness to take an indulgent view. It had turned out +quite the other way. + +"Oh, it's awful! oh dear, oh dear! awful!" Stepan Arkadyevitch +kept repeating to himself, and he could think of nothing to be +done. "And how well things were going up till now! how well we +got on! She was contented and happy in her children; I never +interfered with her in anything; I let her manage the children +and the house just as she liked. It's true it's bad _her_ having +been a governess in our house. That's bad! There's something +common, vulgar, in flirting with one's governess. But what a +governess!" (He vividly recalled the roguish black eyes of Mlle. +Roland and her smile.) "But after all, while she was in the +house, I kept myself in hand. And the worst of it all is that +she's already...it seems as if ill-luck would have it so! Oh, +oh! But what, what is to be done?" + +There was no solution, but that universal solution which life +gives to all questions, even the most complex and insoluble. +That answer is: one must live in the needs of the day--that is, +forget oneself. To forget himself in sleep was impossible now, +at least till nighttime; he could not go back now to the music +sung by the decanter-women; so he must forget himself in the +dream of daily life. + +"Then we shall see," Stepan Arkadyevitch said to himself, and +getting up he put on a gray dressing-gown lined with blue silk, +tied the tassels in a knot, and, drawing a deep breath of air +into his broad, bare chest, he walked to the window with his +usual confident step, turning out his feet that carried his full +frame so easily. He pulled up the blind and rang the bell +loudly. It was at once answered by the appearance of an old +friend, his valet, Matvey, carrying his clothes, his boots, and a +telegram. Matvey was followed by the barber with all the +necessaries for shaving. + +"Are there any papers from the office?" asked Stepan +Arkadyevitch, taking the telegram and seating himself at the +looking-glass. + +"On the table," replied Matvey, glancing with inquiring sympathy +at his master; and, after a short pause, he added with a sly +smile, "They've sent from the carriage-jobbers." + +Stepan Arkadyevitch made no reply, he merely glanced at Matvey in +the looking-glass. In the glance, in which their eyes met in the +looking-glass, it was clear that they understood one another. +Stepan Arkadyevitch's eyes asked: "Why do you tell me that? +don't you know?" + +Matvey put his hands in his jacket pockets, thrust out one leg, +and gazed silently, good-humoredly, with a faint smile, at his +master. + +"I told them to come on Sunday, and till then not to trouble you +or themselves for nothing," he said. He had obviously prepared +the sentence beforehand. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch saw Matvey wanted to make a joke and attract +attention to himself. Tearing open the telegram, he read it +through, guessing at the words, misspelt as they always are in +telegrams, and his face brightened. + +"Matvey, my sister Anna Arkadyevna will be here tomorrow," he +said, checking for a minute the sleek, plump hand of the barber, +cutting a pink path through his long, curly whiskers. + +"Thank God!" said Matvey, showing by this response that he, like +his master, realized the significance of this arrival--that is, +that Anna Arkadyevna, the sister he was so fond of, might bring +about a reconciliation between husband and wife. + +"Alone, or with her husband?" inquired Matvey. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch could not answer, as the barber was at work +on his upper lip, and he raised one finger. Matvey nodded at the +looking-glass. + +"Alone. Is the room to be got ready upstairs?" + +"Inform Darya Alexandrovna: where she orders." + +"Darya Alexandrovna?" Matvey repeated, as though in doubt. + +"Yes, inform her. Here, take the telegram; give it to her, and +then do what she tells you." + +"You want to try it on," Matvey understood, but he only said, +"Yes sir." + +Stepan Arkadyevitch was already washed and combed and ready to be +dressed, when Matvey, stepping deliberately in his creaky boots, +came back into the room with the telegram in his hand. The +barber +had gone. + +"Darya Alexandrovna told me to inform you that she is going away. +Let him do--that is you--do as he likes," he said, laughing only +with his eyes, and putting his hands in his pockets, he watched +his master with his head on one side. Stepan Arkadyevitch was +silent a minute. Then a good-humored and rather pitiful smile +showed itself on his handsome face. + +"Eh, Matvey?" he said, shaking his head. + +"It's all right, sir; she will come round," said Matvey. + +"Come round?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Do you think so? Who's there?" asked Stepan Arkadyevitch, +hearing the rustle of a woman's dress at the door. + +"It's I," said a firm, pleasant, woman's voice, and the stern, +pockmarked face of Matrona Philimonovna, the nurse, was thrust +in at the doorway. + +"Well, what is it, Matrona?" queried Stepan Arkadyevitch, going +up to her at the door. + +Although Stepan Arkadyevitch was completely in the wrong as +regards his wife, and was conscious of this himself, almost every +one in the house (even the nurse, Darya Alexandrovna's chief +ally) was on his side. + +"Well, what now?" he asked disconsolately. + +"Go to her, sir; own your fault again. Maybe God will aid you. +She is suffering so, it's sad to hee her; and besides, everything +in the house is topsy-turvy. You must have pity, sir, on the +children. Beg her forgiveness, sir. There's no help for it! One +must take the consequences..." + +"But she won't see me." + +"You do your part. God is merciful; pray to God, sir, pray to +God." + +"Come, that'll do, you can go," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, +blushing suddenly. "Well now, do dress me." He turned to Matvey +and threw off his dressing-gown decisively. + +Matvey was already holding up the shirt like a horse's collar, +and, blowing off some invisible speck, he slipped it with obvious +pleasure over the well-groomed body of his master. + + + +Chapter 3 + + +When he was dressed, Stepan Arkadyevitch sprinkled some scent on +himself, pulled down his shirt-cuffs, distributed into his +pockets his cigarettes, pocketbook, matches, and watch with its +double chain and seals, and shaking out his handkerchief, feeling +himself clean, fragrant, healthy, and physically at ease, in +spite of his unhappiness, he walked with a slight swing on each +leg into the dining-room, where coffee was already waiting for +him, and beside the coffee, letters and papers from the office. + +He read the letters. One was very unpleasant, from a merchant +who was buying a forest on his wife's property. To sell this +forest was absolutely essential; but at present, until he was +reconciled with his wife, the subject could not be discussed. +The most unpleasant thing of all was that his pecuniary interests +should in this way enter into the question of his reconciliation +with his wife. And the idea that he might be led on by his +interests, that he might seek a reconciliation with his wife on +account of the sale of the forest--that idea hurt him. + +When he had finished his letters, Stepan Arkadyevitch moved the +office-papers close to him, rapidly looked through two pieces of +business, made a few notes with a big pencil, and pushing away +the papers, turned to his coffee. As he sipped his coffee, he +opened a still damp morning paper, and began reading it. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch took in and read a liberal paper, not an +extreme one, but one advocating the views held by the majority. +And in spite of the fact that science, art, and politics had no +special interest for him, he firmly held those views on all these +subjects which were held by the majority and by his paper, and he +only changed them when the majority changed them--or, more +strictly speaking, he did not change them, but they imperceptibly +changed of themselves within him. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch had not chosen his political opinions or his +views; these political opinions and views had come to him of +themselves, just as he did not choose the shapes of his hat and +coat, but simply took those that were being worn. And for him, +living in a certain society--owing to the need, ordinarily +developed at years of discretion, for some degree of mental +activity--to have views was just as indispensable as to have a +hat. If there was a reason for his preferring liberal to +conservative views, which were held also by many of his circle, +it arose not from his considering liberalism more rational, but +from its being in closer accordance with his manner of life. The +liberal party said that in Russia everything is wrong, and +certainly Stepan Arkadyevitch had many debts and was decidedly +short of money. The liberal party said that marriage is an +institution quite out of date, and that it needs reconstruction; +and family life certainly afforded Stepan Arkadyevitch little +gratification, and forced him into lying and hypocrisy, which was +so repulsive to his nature. The liberal party said, or rather +allowed it to be understood, that religion is only a curb to keep +in check the barbarous classes of the people; and Stepan +Arkadyevitch could not get through even a short service without +his legs aching from standing up, and could never make out what +was the object of all the terrible and high-flown language about +another world when life might be so very amusing in this world. +And with all this, Stepan Arkadyevitch, who liked a joke, was +fond of puzzling a plain man by saying that if he prided himself +on his origin, he ought not to stop at Rurik and disown the first +founder of his family--the monkey. And so Liberalism had become +a habit of Stepan Arkadyevitch's, and he liked his newspaper, as +he did his cigar after dinner, for the slight fog it diffused in +his brain. He read the leading article, in which it was +maintained that it was quite senseless in our day to raise an +outcry that radicalism was threatening to swallow up all +conservative elements, and that the government ought to take +measures to crush the revolutionary hydra; that, on the contrary, +"in our opinion the danger lies not in that fantastic +revolutionary hydra, but in the obstinacy of traditionalism +clogging progress," etc., etc. He read another article, too, a +financial one, which alluded to Bentham and Mill, and dropped +some innuendoes reflecting on the ministry. With his +characteristic quickwittedness he caught the drift of each +innuendo, divined whence it came, at whom and on what ground it +was aimed, and that afforded him, as it always did, a certain +satisfaction. But today that satisfaction was embittered by +Matrona Philimonovna's advice and the unsatisfactory state of the +household. He read, too, that Count Beist was rumored to have +left for Wiesbaden, and that one need have no more gray hair, and +of the sale of a light carriage, and of a young person seeking a +situation; but these items of information did not give him, as +usual, a quiet, ironical gratification. Having finished the +paper, a second cup of coffee and a roll and butter, he got up, +shaking the crumbs of the roll off his waistcoat; and, squaring +his broad chest, he smiled joyously: not because there was +anything particularly agreeable in his mind--the joyous smile +was evoked by a good digestion. + +But this joyous smile at once recalled everything to +him, and he grew thoughtful. + +Two childish voices (Stepan Arkadyevitch recognized the voices of +Grisha, his youngest boy, and Tanya, his eldest girl) were heard +outside the door. They were carrying something, and dropped it. + +"I told you not to sit passengers on the roof," said the little +girl in English; "there, pick them up!" + +"Everything's in confusion," thought Stepan Arkadyevitch; "there +are the children running about by themselves." And going to the +door, he called them. They threw down the box, that represented +a train, and came in to their father. + +The little girl, her father's favorite, ran up boldly, embraced +him, and hung laughingly on his neck, enjoying as she always did +the smell of scent that came from his whiskers. At last the +little girl kissed his face, which was flushed from his stooping +posture and beaming with tenderness, loosed her hands, and was +about to run away again; but her father held her back. + +"How is mamma?" he asked, passing his hand over his daughter's +smooth, soft little neck. "Good morning," he said, smiling to +the boy, who had come up to greet him. He was conscious that he +loved the boy less, and always tried to be fair; but the boy felt +it, and did not respond with a smile to his father's chilly +smile. + +"Mamma? She is up," answered the girl. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch sighed. "That means that she's not slept +again all night," he thought. + +"Well, is she cheerful?" + +The little girl knew that there was a quarrel between her father +and mother, and that her mother could not be cheerful, and that +her father must be aware of this, and that he was pretending when +he asked about it so lightly. And she blushed for her father. +He at once perceived it, and blushed too. + +"I don't know," she said. "She did not say we must do our +lessons, but she said we were to go for a walk with Miss Hoole to +grandmamma's." + +"Well, go, Tanya, my darling. Oh, wait a minute, though," he +said, still holding her and stroking her soft little hand. + +He took off the mantelpiece, where he had put it yesterday, a +little box of sweets, and gave her two, picking out her +favorites, a chocolate and a fondant. + +"For Grisha?" said the little girl, pointing to the chocolate. + +"Yes, yes." And still stroking her little shoulder, he kissed +her on the roots of her hair and neck, and let her go. + +"The carriage is ready," said Matvey; "but there's some one to +see you with a petition." + +"Been here long?" asked Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +"Half an hour." + +"How many times have I told you to tell me at once?" + +"One must let you drink your coffee in peace, at least," said +Matvey, in the affectionately gruff tone with which it was +impossible to be angry. + +"Well, show the person up at once," said Oblonsky, frowning with +vexation. + +The petitioner, the widow of a staff captain Kalinin, came with a +request impossible and unreasonable; but Stepan Arkadyevitch, as +he generally did, made her sit down, heard her to the end +attentively without interrupting her, and gave her detailed +advice as to how and to whom to apply, and even wrote her, in his +large, sprawling, good and legible hand, a confident and fluent +little note to a personage who might be of use to her. Having +got rid of the staff captain's widow, Stepan Arkadyevitch took +his hat and stopped to recollect whether he had forgotten +anything. It appeared that he had forgotten nothing except what +he wanted to forget--his wife. + +"Ah, yes!" He bowed his head, and his handsome face assumed a +harassed expression. "To go, or not to go!" he said to himself; +and an inner voice told him he must not go, that nothing could +come of it but falsity; that to amend, to set right their +relations was impossible, because it was impossible to make her +attractive again and able to inspire love, or to make him an old +man, not susceptible to love. Except deceit and lying nothing +could come of it now; and deceit and lying were opposed to his +nature. + +"It must be some time, though: it can't go on like this," he +said, trying to give himself courage. He squared his chest, took +out a cigarette, took two whiffs at it, flung it into a +mother-of-pearl ashtray, and with rapid steps walked through the +drawing room, and opened the other door into his wife's bedroom. + + + +Chapter 4 + + +Darya Alexandrovna, in a dressing jacket, and with her now +scanty, once luxuriant and beautiful hair fastened up with +hairpins on the nape of her neck, with a sunken, thin face and +large, startled eyes, which looked prominent from the thinness of +her face, was standing among a litter of all sorts of things +scattered all over the room, before an open bureau, from which +she was taking something. Hearing her husband's steps, she +stopped, looking towards the door, and trying assiduously to give +her features a severe and contemptuous expression. She felt she +was afraid of him, and afraid of the coming interview. She was +just attempting to do what she had attempted to do ten times +already in these last three days--to sort out the children's +things and her own, so as to take them to her mother's--and +again she could not bring herself to do this; but now again, as +each time before, she kept saying to herself, "that things cannot +go on like this, that she must take some step" to punish him, put +him to shame, avenge on him some little part at least of the +suffering he had caused her. She still continued to tell +herself that she should leave him, but she was conscious that +this was impossible; it was impossible because she could not get +out of the habit of regarding him as her husband and loving him. +Besides this, she realized that if even here in her own house she +could hardly manage to look after her five children properly, +they would be still worse off where she was going with them all. +As it was, even in the course of these three days, the youngest +was unwell from being given unwholesome soup, and the others had +almost gone without their dinner the day before. She was +conscious that it was impossible to go away; but, cheating +herself, she went on all the same sorting out her things and +pretending she was going. + +Seeing her husband, she dropped her hands into the drawer of the +bureau as though looking for something, and only looked round at +him when he had come quite up to her. But her face, to which she +tried to give a severe and resolute expression, betrayed +bewilderment and suffering. + +"Dolly!" he said in a subdued and timid voice. He bent his head +towards his shoulder and tried to look pitiful and humble, but +for all that he was radiant with freshness and health. In a +rapid glance she scanned his figure that beamed with health and +freshness. "Yes, he is happy and content!" she thought; "while +I.... And that disgusting good nature, which every one likes him +for and praises--I hate that good nature of his," she thought. +Her mouth stiffened, the muscles of the cheek contracted on the +right side of her pale, nervous face. + +"What do you want?" she said in a rapid, deep, unnatural voice. + +"Dolly!" he repeated, with a quiver in his voice. "Anna is +coming today." + +"Well, what is that to me? I can't see her!" she cried. + +"But you must, really, Dolly..." + +"Go away, go away, go away!" she shrieked, not looking at him, as +though this shriek were called up by physical pain. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch could be calm when he thought of his wife, he +could hope that she would _come round_, as Matvey expressed it, and +could quietly go on reading his paper and drinking his coffee; +but when he saw her tortured, suffering face, heard the tone of +her voice, submissive to fate and full of despair, there was a +catch in his breath and a lump in his throat, and his eyes began +to shine with tears. + +"My God! what have I done? Dolly! For God's sake!.... You +know...." He could not go on; there was a sob in his throat. + +She shut the bureau with a slam, and glanced at him. + +"Dolly, what can I say?.... One thing: forgive...Remember, +cannot nine years of my life atone for an instant...." + +She dropped her eyes and listened, expecting what he would say, +as it were beseeching him in some way or other to make her +believe differently. + +"--instant of passion?" he said, and would have gone on, but at +that word, as at a pang of physical pain, her lips stiffened +again, and again the muscles of her right cheek worked. + +"Go away, go out of the room!" she shrieked still more shrilly, +"and don't talk to me of your passion and your loathsomeness." + +She tried to go out, but tottered, and clung to the back of a +chair to support herself. His face relaxed, his lips swelled, +his eyes were swimming with tears. + +"Dolly!" he said, sobbing now; "for mercy's sake, think of the +children; they are not to blame! I am to blame, and punish me, +make me expiate my fault. Anything I can do, I am ready to do +anything! I am to blame, no words can express how much I am to +blame! But, Dolly, forgive me!" + +She sat down. He listened to her hard, heavy breathing, and he +was unutterably sorry for her. She tried several times to begin +to speak, but could not. He waited. + +"You remember the children, Stiva, to play with them; but I +remember them, and know that this means their ruin," she +said--obviously one of the phrases she had more than once +repeated to herself in the course of the last few days. + +She had called him "Stiva," and he glanced at her with gratitude, +and moved to take her hand, but she drew back from him with +aversion. + +"I think of the children, and for that reason I would do anything +in the world to save them, but I don't myself know how to save +them. By taking them away from their father, or by leaving them +with a vicious father--yes, a vicious father.... Tell me, after +what...has happened, can we live together? Is that possible? +Tell me, eh, is it possible?" she repeated, raising her voice, +"after my husband, the father of my children, enters into a +love affair with his own children's governess?" + +"But what could I do? what could I do?" he kept saying in a +pitiful voice, not knowing what he was saying, as his head sank +lower and lower. + +"You are loathsome to me, repulsive!" she shrieked, getting more +and more heated. "Your tears mean nothing! You have never loved +me; you have neither heart nor honorable feeling! You are +hateful to me, disgusting, a stranger--yes, a complete +stranger!" With pain and wrath she uttered the word so terrible +to herself--_stranger_. + +He looked at her, and the fury expressed in her face alarmed and +amazed him. He did not understand how his pity for her +exasperated her. She saw in him sympathy for her, but not love. +"No, she hates me. She will not forgive me," he thought. + +"It is awful! awful!" he said. + +At that moment in the next room a child began to cry; probably it +had fallen down. Darya Alexandrovna listened, and her face +suddenly softened. + +She seemed to be pulling herself together for a few seconds, as +though she did not know where she was, and what she was doing, +and getting up rapidly, she moved towards the door. + +"Well, she loves my child," he thought, noticing the change of +her face at the child's cry, "my child: how can she hate me?" + +"Dolly, one word more," he said, following her. + +"If you come near me, I will call in the servants, the children! +They may all know you are a scoundrel! I am going away at once, +and you may live here with your mistress!" + +And she went out, slamming the door. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch sighed, wiped his face, and with a subdued +tread walked out of the room. "Matvey says she will come round; +but how? I don't see the least chance of it. Ah, oh, how +horrible it is! And how vulgarly she shouted," he said to +himself, remembering her shriek and the words--"scoundrel" and +"mistress." "And very likely the maids were listening! Horribly +vulgar! horrible!" Stepan Arkadyevitch stood a few seconds +alone, wiped his face, squared his chest, and walked out of the +room. + +It was Friday, and in the dining room the German watchmaker was +winding up the clock. Stepan Arkadyevitch remembered his joke +about this punctual, bald watchmaker, "that the German was wound +up for a whole lifetime himself, to wind up watches," and he +smiled. Stepan Arkadyevitch was fond of a joke: "And maybe she +will come round! That's a good expression, '_come round,_'" he +thought. "I must repeat that." + +"Matvey!" he shouted. "Arrange everything with Darya in the +sitting room for Anna Arkadyevna," he said to Matvey when he came +in. + +"Yes, sir." + +Stepan Arkadyevitch put on his fur coat and went out onto the +steps. + +"You won't dine at home?" said Matvey, seeing him off. + +"That's as it happens. But here's for the housekeeping," he +said, taking ten roubles from his pocketbook. "That'll be +enough." + +"Enough or not enough, we must make it do," said Matvey, slamming +the carriage door and stepping back onto the steps. + +Darya Alexandrovna meanwhile having pacified the child, and +knowing from the sound of the carriage that he had gone off, went +back again to her bedroom. It was her solitary refuge from the +household cares which crowded upon her directly she went out from +it. Even now, in the short time she had been in the nursery, the +English governess and Matrona Philimonovna had succeeded in +putting several questions to her, which did not admit of delay, +and which only she could answer: "What were the children to put +on for their walk? Should they have any milk? Should not a new +cook be sent for?" + +"Ah, let me alone, let me alone!" she said, and going back to her +bedroom she sat down in the same place as she had sat when +talking to her husband, clasping tightly her thin hands with the +rings that slipped down on her bony fingers, and fell to going +over in her memory all the conversation. "He has gone! But has +he broken it off with her?" she thought. "Can it be he sees her? +Why didn't I ask him! No, no, reconciliation is impossible. +Even if we remain in the same house, we are strangers--strangers +forever!" She repeated again with special significance the word +so dreadful to her. "And how I loved him! my God, how I loved +him!.... How I loved him! And now don't I love him? Don't I +love him more than before? The most horrible thing is," she +began, but did not finish her thought, because Matrona +Philimonovna put her head in at the door. + +"Let us send for my brother," she said; "he can get a dinner +anyway, or we shall have the children getting nothing to eat till +six again, like yesterday." + +"Very well, I will come directly and see about it. But did you +send for some new milk?" + +And Darya Alexandrovna plunged into the duties of the day, and +drowned her grief in them for a time. + + + +Chapter 5 + + +Stepan Arkadyevitch had learned easily at school, thanks to his +excellent abilities, but he had been idle and mischievous, and +therefore was one of the lowest in his class. But in spite of +his habitually dissipated mode of life, his inferior grade in the +service, and his comparative youth, he occupied the honorable and +lucrative position of president of one of the government boards +at Moscow. This post he had received through his sister Anna's +husband, Alexey Alexandrovitch Karenin, who held one of the most +important positions in the ministry to whose department the +Moscow office belonged. But if Karenin had not got his brother- +in-law this berth, then through a hundred other personages-- +brothers, sisters, cousins, uncles, and aunts--Stiva Oblonsky +would have received this post, or some other similar one, +together with the salary of six thousand absolutely needful for +him, as his affairs, in spite of his wife's considerable +property, were in an embarrassed condition. + +Half Moscow and Petersburg were friends and relations of Stepan +Arkadyevitch. He was born in the midst of those who had been and +are the powerful ones of this world. One-third of the men in the +government, the older men, had been friends of his father's, and +had known him in petticoats; another third were his intimate +chums, and the remainder were friendly acquaintances. +Consequently the distributors of earthly blessings in the shape +of places, rents, shares, and such, were all his friends, and +could not overlook one of their own set; and Oblonsky had no need +to make any special exertion to get a lucrative post. He had +only not to refuse things, not to show jealousy, not to be +quarrelsome or take offense, all of which from his +characteristic good nature he never did. It would have struck +him as absurd if he had been told that he would not get a +position with the salary he required, especially as he expected +nothing out of the way; he only wanted what the men of his own +age and standing did get, and he was no worse qualified for +performing duties of the kind than any other man. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch was not merely liked by all who knew him for +his good humor, but for his bright disposition, and his +unquestionable honesty. In him, in his handsome, radiant figure, +his sparkling eyes, black hair and eyebrows, and the white and +red of his face, there was something which produced a physical +effect of kindliness and good humor on the people who met him. +"Aha! Stiva! Oblonsky! Here he is!" was almost always said +with a smile of delight on meeting him. Even though it happened +at times that after a conversation with him it seemed that +nothing particularly delightful had happened, the next day, and +the next, every one was just as delighted at meeting him again. + +After filling for three years the post of president of one of the +government boards at Moscow, Stepan Arkadyevitch had won the +respect, as well as the liking, of his fellow-officials, +subordinates, and superiors, and all who had had business with +him. The principal qualities in Stepan Arkadyevitch which had +gained him this universal respect in the service consisted, in +the first place, of his extreme indulgence for others, founded on +a consciousness of his own shortcomings; secondly, of his perfect +liberalism--not the liberalism he read of in the papers, but the +liberalism that was in his blood, in virtue of which he treated +all men perfectly equally and exactly the same, whatever their +fortune or calling might be; and thirdly--the most important +point--his complete indifference to the business in which he was +engaged, in consequence of which he was never carried away, and +never made mistakes. + +On reaching the offices of the board, Stepan Arkadyevitch, +escorted by a deferential porter with a portfolio, went into his +little private room, put on his uniform, and went into the +boardroom. The clerks and copyists all rose, greeting him with +good-humored deference. Stepan Arkadyevitch moved quickly, as +ever, to his place, shook hands with his colleagues, and sat +down. He made a joke or two, and talked just as much as was +consistent with due decorum, and began work. No one knew better +than Stepan Arkadyevitch how to hit on the exact line between +freedom, simplicity, and official stiffness necessary for the +agreeable conduct of business. A secretary, with the +good-humored deference common to every one in Stepan +Arkadyevitch's office, came up with papers, and began to speak in +the familiar and easy tone which had been introduced by Stepan +Arkadyevitch. + +"We have succeeded in getting the information from the government +department of Penza. Here, would you care?...." + +"You've got them at last?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, laying his +finger on the paper. "Now, gentlemen...." + +And the sitting of the board began. + +"If they knew," he thought, bending his head with a significant +air as he listened to the report, "what a guilty little boy their +president was half an hour ago." And his eyes were laughing +during the reading of the report. Till two o'clock the sitting +would go on without a break, and at two o'clock there would be an +interval and luncheon. + +It was not yet two, when the large glass doors of the boardroom +suddenly opened and someone came in. + +All the officials sitting on the further side under the portrait +of the Tsar and the eagle, delighted at any distraction, looked +round at the door; but the doorkeeper standing at the door at +once drove out the intruder, and closed the glass door after him. + +When the case had been read through, Stepan Arkadyevitch got up +and stretched, and by way of tribute to the liberalism of the +times took out a cigarette in the boardroom and went into his +private room. Two of the members of the board, the old veteran +in the service, Nikitin, and the _Kammerjunker Grinevitch_, went +in with him. + +"We shall have time to finish after lunch," said Stepan +Arkadyevitch. + +"To be sure we shall!" said Nikitin. + +"A pretty sharp fellow this Fomin must be," said Grinevitch of +one of the persons taking part in the case they were examining. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch frowned at Grinevitch's words, giving him +thereby to understand that it was improper to pass judgment +prematurely, and made him no reply. + +"Who was that came in?" he asked the doorkeeper. + +"Someone, your excellency, crept in without permission directly +my back was turned. He was asking for you. I told him: when +the members come out, then..." + +"Where is he?" + +"Maybe he's gone into the passage, but here he comes anyway. +That is he," said the doorkeeper, pointing to a strongly built, +broad-shouldered man with a curly beard, who, without taking off +his sheepskin cap, was running lightly and rapidly up the worn +steps of the stone staircase. One of the members going down--a +lean official with a portfolio--stood out of his way and looked +disapprovingly at the legs of the stranger, then glanced +inquiringly at Oblonsky. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch was standing at the top of the stairs. His +good-naturedly beaming face above the embroidered collar of his +uniform beamed more than ever when he recognized the man coming +up. + +"Why, it's actually you, Levin, at last!" he said with a friendly +mocking smile, scanning Levin as he approached. "How is it you +have deigned to look me up in this den?" said Stepan +Arkadyevitch, and not content with shaking hands, he kissed his +friend. "Have you been here long?" + +"I have just come, and very much wanted to see you," said Levin, +looking shyly and at the same time angrily and uneasily around. + +"Well, let's go into my room," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, who knew +his friend's sensitive and irritable shyness, and, taking his +arm, he drew him along, as though guiding him through dangers. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch was on familiar terms with almost all his +acquaintances, and called almost all of them by their Christian +names: old men of sixty, boys of twenty, actors, ministers, +merchants, and adjutant-generals, so that many of his intimate +chums were to be found at the extreme ends of the social ladder, +and would have been very much surprised to learn that they had, +through the medium of Oblonsky, something in common. He was the +familiar friend of everyone with whom he took a glass of +champagne, and he took a glass of champagne with everyone, and +when in consequence he met any of his disreputable chums, as he +used in joke to call many of his friends, in the presence of his +subordinates, he well knew how, with his characteristic tact, to +diminish the disagreeable impression made on them. Levin was +not a disreputable chum, but Oblonsky, with his ready tact, felt +that Levin fancied he might not care to show his intimacy with +him before his subordinates, and so he made haste to take him off +into his room. + +Levin was almost of the same age as Oblonsky; their intimacy did +not rest merely on champagne. Levin had been the friend and +companion of his early youth. They were fond of one another in +spite of the difference of their characters and tastes, as +friends are fond of one another who have been together in early +youth. But in spite of this, each of them--as is often the way +with men who have selected careers of different kinds--though in +discussion he would even justify the other's career, in his heart +despised it. It seemed to each of them that the life he led +himself was the only real life, and the life led by his friend +was a mere phantasm. Oblonsky could not restrain a slight +mocking smile at the sight of Levin. How often he had seen him +come up to Moscow from the country where he was doing something, +but what precisely Stepan Arkadyevitch could never quite make +out, and indeed he took no interest in the matter. Levin arrived +in Moscow always excited and in a hurry, rather ill at ease and +irritated by his own want of ease, and for the most part with a +perfectly new, unexpected view of things. Stepan Arkadyevitch +laughed at this, and liked it. In the same way Levin in his +heart despised the town mode of life of his friend, and his +official duties, which he laughed at, and regarded as trifling. +But the difference was that Oblonsky, as he was doing the same as +every one did, laughed complacently and good-humoredly, while +Levin laughed without complacency and sometimes angrily. + +"We have long been expecting you," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, +going into his room and letting Levin's hand go as though to show +that here all danger was over. "I am very, very glad to see +you," he went on. "Well, how are you? Eh? When did you come?" + +Levin was silent, looking at the unknown faces of Oblonsky's two +companions, and especially at the hand of the elegant Grinevitch, +which had such long white fingers, such long yellow +filbert-shaped nails, and such huge shining studs on the +shirt-cuff, that apparently they absorbed all his attention, and +allowed him no freedom of thought. Oblonsky noticed this at +once, and smiled. + +"Ah, to be sure, let me introduce you," he said. "My colleagues: +Philip Ivanitch Nikitin, Mihail Stanislavitch Grinevitch"--and +turning to Levin--"a district councilor, a modern district +councilman, a gymnast who lifts thirteen stone with one hand, a +cattle-breeder and sportsman, and my friend, Konstantin +Dmitrievitch Levin, the brother of Sergey Ivanovitch Koznishev." + +"Delighted," said the veteran. + +"I have the honor of knowing your brother, Sergey Ivanovitch," +said Grinevitch, holding out his slender hand with its long +nails. + +Levin frowned, shook hands coldly, and at once turned to +Oblonsky. Though he had a great respect for his half-brother, an +author well known to all Russia, he could not endure it when +people treated him not as Konstantin Levin, but as the brother of +the celebrated Koznishev. + +"No, I am no longer a district councilor. I have quarreled with +them all, and don't go to the meetings any more," he said, +turning to Oblonsky. + +"You've been quick about it!" said Oblonsky with a smile. "But +how? why?" + +"It's a long story. I will tell you some time," said Levin, but +he began telling him at once. "Well, to put it shortly, I was +convinced that nothing was really done by the district councils, +or ever could be," he began, as though some one had just insulted +him. "On one side it's a plaything; they play at being a +parliament, and I'm neither young enough nor old enough to find +amusement in playthings; and on the other side" (he stammered) +"it's a means for the coterie of the district to make money. +Formerly they had wardships, courts of justice, now they have the +district council--not in the form of bribes, but in the form of +unearned salary," he said, as hotly as though someone of those +present had opposed his opinion. + +"Aha! You're in a new phase again, I see--a conservative," said +Stepan Arkadyevitch. "However, we can go into that later." + +"Yes, later. But I wanted to see you," said Levin, looking with +hatred at Grinevitch's hand. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch gave a scarcely perceptible smile. + +"How was it you used to say you would never wear European dress +again?" he said, scanning his new suit, obviously cut by a French +tailor. "Ah! I see: a new phase." + +Levin suddenly blushed, not as grown men blush, slightly, without +being themselves aware of it, but as boys blush, feeling that +they are ridiculous through their shyness, and consequently +ashamed of it and blushing still more, almost to the point of +tears. And it was so strange to see this sensible, manly face in +such a childish plight, that Oblonsky left off looking at him. + +"Oh, where shall we meet? You know I want very much to talk to +you," said Levin. + +Oblonsky seemed to ponder. + +"I'll tell you what: let's go to Gurin's to lunch, and there we +can talk. I am free till three." + +"No," answered Levin, after an instant's thought, "I have got to +go on somewhere else." + +"All right, then, let's dine together." + +"Dine together? But I have nothing very particular, only a few +words to say, and a question I want to ask you, and we can have a +talk afterwards." + +"Well, say the few words, then, at once, and we'll gossip after +dinner." + +"Well, it's this," said Levin; "but it's of no importance, +though." + +His face all at once took an expression of anger from the effort +he was making to surmount his shyness. + +"What are the Shtcherbatskys doing? Everything as it used to +be?" he said. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch, who had long known that Levin was in love +with his sister-in-law, Kitty, gave a hardly perceptible smile, +and his eyes sparkled merrily. + +"You said a few words, but I can't answer in a few words, +because.... Excuse me a minute..." + +A secretary came in, with respectful familiarity and the modest +consciousness, characteristic of every secretary, of superiority +to his chief in the knowledge of their business; he went up to +Oblonsky with some papers, and began, under pretense of asking a +question, to explain some objection. Stepan Arkadyevitch, +without hearing him out, laid his hand genially on the +secretary's sleeve. + +"No, you do as I told you," he said, softening his words with a +smile, and with a brief explanation of his view of the matter he +turned away from the papers, and said: "So do it that way, if you +please, Zahar Nikititch." + +The secretary retired in confusion. During the consultation with +the secretary Levin had completely recovered from his +embarrassment. He was standing with his elbows on the back of a +chair, and on his face was a look of ironical attention. + +"I don't understand it, I don't understand it," he said. + +"What don't you understand?" said Oblonsky, smiling as brightly +as ever, and picking up a cigarette. He expected some queer +outburst from Levin. + +"I don't understand what you are doing," said Levin, shrugging +his shoulders. "How can you do it seriously?" + +"Why not?" + +"Why, because there's nothing in it." + +"You think so, but we're overwhelmed with work." + +"On paper. But, there, you've a gift for it," added Levin. + +"That's to say, you think there's a lack of something in me?" + +"Perhaps so," said Levin. "But all the same I admire your +grandeur, and am proud that I've a friend in such a great person. +You've not answered my question, though," he went on, with a +desperate effort looking Oblonsky straight in the face. + +"Oh, that's all very well. You wait a bit, and you'll come to +this yourself. It's very nice for you to have over six thousand +acres in the Karazinsky district, and such muscles, and the +freshness of a girl of twelve; still you'll be one of us one day. +Yes, as to your question, there is no change, but it's a pity +you've been away so long." + +"Oh, why so?" Levin queried, panic-stricken. + +"Oh, nothing," responded Oblonsky. "We'll talk it over. But +what's brought you up to town?" + +"Oh, we'll talk about that, too, later on," said Levin, reddening +again up to his ears. + +"All right. I see," said Stepan Arkadyevitch. "I should ask you +to come to us, you know, but my wife's not quite the thing. But +I tell you what; if you want to see them, they're sure now to be +at the Zoological Gardens from four to five. Kitty skates. You +drive along there, and I'll come and fetch you, and we'll go and +dine somewhere together." + +"Capital. So good-bye till then." + +"Now mind, you'll forget, I know you, or rush off home to the +country!" Stepan Arkadyevitch called out laughing. + +"No, truly!" + +And Levin went out of the room, only when he was in the doorway +remembering that he had forgotten to take leave of Oblonsky's +colleagues. + +"That gentleman must be a man of great energy," said Grinevitch, +when Levin had gone away. + +"Yes, my dear boy," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, nodding his head, +"he's a lucky fellow! Over six thousand acres in the Karazinsky +district; everything before him; and what youth and vigor! Not +like some of us." + +"You have a great deal to complain of, haven't you, Stepan +Arkadyevitch?" + +"Ah, yes, I'm in a poor way, a bad way," said Stepan Arkadyevitch +with a heavy sigh. + + + +Chapter 6 + + +When Oblonsky asked Levin what had brought him to town, Levin +blushed, and was furious with himself for blushing, because he +could not answer, "I have come to make your sister-in-law an +offer," though that was precisely what he had come for. + +The families of the Levins and the Shtcherbatskys were old, noble +Moscow families, and had always been on intimate and friendly +terms. This intimacy had grown still closer during Levin's +student days. He had both prepared for the university with the +young Prince Shtcherbatsky, the brother of Kitty and Dolly, and +had entered at the same time with him. In those days Levin used +often to be in the Shtcherbatskys' house, and he was in love with +the Shtcherbatsky household. Strange as it may appear, it was +with the household, the family, that Konstantin Levin was in +love, especially with the feminine half of the household. Levin +did not remember his own mother, and his only sister was older +than he was, so that it was in the Shtcherbatskys' house that he +saw for the first time that inner life of an old, noble, +cultivated, and honorable family of which he had been deprived by +the death of his father and mother. All the members of that +family, especially the feminine half, were pictured by him, as +it were, wrapped about with a mysterious poetical veil, and he +not only perceived no defects whatever in them, but under the +poetical veil that shrouded them he assumed the existence of the +loftiest sentiments and every possible perfection. Why it was +the three young ladies had one day to speak French, and the next +English; why it was that at certain hours they played by turns on +the piano, the sounds of which were audible in their brother's +room above, where the students used to work; why they were +visited by those professors of French literature, of music, of +drawing, of dancing; why at certain hours all the three young +ladies, with Mademoiselle Linon, drove in the coach to the +Tversky boulevard, dressed in their satin cloaks, Dolly in a long +one, Natalia in a half-long one, and Kitty in one so short that +her shapely legs in tightly-drawn red stockings were visible to +all beholders; why it was they had to walk about the Tversky +boulevard escorted by a footman with a gold cockade in his +hat--all this and much more that was done in their mysterious +world he did not understand, but he was sure that everything that +was done there was very good, and he was in love precisely with +the mystery of the proceedings. + +In his student days he had all but been in love with the eldest, +Dolly, but she was soon married to Oblonsky. Then he began being +in love with the second. He felt, as it were, that he had to be +in love with one of the sisters, only he could not quite make out +which. But Natalia, too, had hardly made her appearance in the +world when she married the diplomat Lvov. Kitty was still a +child when Levin left the university. Young Shtcherbatsky went +into the navy, was drowned in the Baltic, and Levin's relations +with the Shtcherbatskys, in spite of his friendship with +Oblonsky, became less intimate. But when early in the winter of +this year Levin came to Moscow, after a year in the country, and +saw the Shtcherbatskys, he realized which of the three sisters he +was indeed destined to love. + +One would have thought that nothing could be simpler than for +him, a man of good family, rather rich than poor, and thirty-two +years old, to make the young Princess Shtcherbatskaya an offer of +marriage; in all likelihood he would at once have been looked +upon as a good match. But Levin was in love, and so it seemed to +him that Kitty was so perfect in every respect that she was a +creature far above everything earthly; and that he was a creature +so low and so earthly that it could not even be conceived that +other people and she herself could regard him as worthy of her. + +After spending two months in Moscow in a state of enchantment, +seeing Kitty almost every day in society, into which he went so +as to meet her, he abruptly decided that it could not be, and +went back to the country. + +Levin's conviction that it could not be was founded on the idea +that in the eyes of her family he was a disadvantageous and +worthless match for the charming Kitty, and that Kitty herself +could not love him. In her family's eyes he had no ordinary, +definite career and position in society, while his contemporaries +by this time, when he was thirty-two, were already, one a +colonel, and another a professor, another director of a bank and +railways, or president of a board like Oblonsky. But he (he knew +very well how he must appear to others) was a country gentleman, +occupied in breeding cattle, shooting game, and building barns; +in other words, a fellow of no ability, who had not turned out +well, and who was doing just what, according to the ideas of the +world, is done by people fit for nothing else. + +The mysterious, enchanting Kitty herself could not love such an +ugly person as he conceived himself to be, and, above all, such +an ordinary, in no way striking person. Moreover, his attitude +to Kitty in the past--the attitude of a grown-up person to a +child, arising from his friendship with her brother--seemed to +him yet another obstacle to love. An ugly, good-natured man, as +he considered himself, might, he supposed, be liked as a friend; +but to be loved with such a love as that with which he loved +Kitty, one would need to be a handsome and, still more, a +distinguished man. + +He had heard that women often did care for ugly and ordinary men, +but he did not believe it, for he judged by himself, and he could +not himself have loved any but beautiful, mysterious, and +exceptional women. + +But after spending two months alone in the country, he was +convinced that this was not one of those passions of which he had +had experience in his early youth; that this feeling gave him not +an instant's rest; that he could not live without deciding the +question, would she or would she not be his wife, and that his +despair had arisen only from his own imaginings, that he had no +sort of proof that he would be rejected. And he had now come to +Moscow with a firm determination to make an offer, and get +married if he were accepted. Or...he could not conceive what +would become of him if he were rejected. + + + +Chapter 7 + + +On arriving in Moscow by a morning train, Levin had put up at the +house of his elder half-brother, Koznishev. After changing his +clothes he went down to his brother's study, intending to talk to +him at once about the object of his visit, and to ask his advice; +but his brother was not alone. With him there was a well-known +professor of philosophy, who had come from Harkov expressly to +clear up a difference that had arisen between them on a very +important philosophical question. The professor was carrying on +a hot crusade against materialists. Sergey Koznishev had been +following this crusade with interest, and after reading the +professor's last article, he had written him a letter stating his +objections. He accused the professor of making too great +concessions to the materialists. And the professor had promptly +appeared to argue the matter out. The point in discussion was +the question then in vogue: Is there a line to be drawn between +psychological and physiological phenomena in man? and if so, +where? + +Sergey Ivanovitch met his brother with the smile of chilly +friendliness he always had for everyone, and introducing him to +the professor, went on with the conversation. + +A little man in spectacles, with a narrow forehead, tore himself +from the discussion for an instant to greet Levin, and then went +on talking without paying any further attention to him. Levin +sat down to wait till the professor should go, but he soon began +to get interested in the subject under discussion. + +Levin had come across the magazine articles about which they were +disputing, and had read them, interested in them as a development +of the first principles of science, familiar to him as a natural +science student at the university. But he had never connected +these scientific deductions as to the origin of man as an animal, +as to reflex action, biology, and sociology, with those questions +as to the meaning of life and death to himself, which had of late +been more and more often in his mind. + +As he listened to his brother's argument with the professor, he +noticed that they connected these scientific questions with those +spiritual problems, that at times they almost touched on the +latter; but every time they were close upon what seemed to him +the chief point, they promptly beat a hasty retreat, and plunged +again into a sea of subtle distinctions, reservations, +quotations, allusions, and appeals to authorities, and it was +with difficulty that he understood what they were talking about. + +"I cannot admit it," said Sergey Ivanovitch, with his habitual +clearness, precision of expression, and elegance of phrase. "I +cannot in any case agree with Keiss that my whole conception of +the external world has been derived from perceptions. The most +fundamental idea, the idea of existence, has not been received by +me through sensation; indeed, there is no special sense-organ for +the transmission of such an idea." + +"Yes, but they--Wurt, and Knaust, and Pripasov--would answer +that your consciousness of existence is derived from the +conjunction of all your sensations, that that consciousness of +existence is the result of your sensations. Wurt, indeed, says +plainly that, assuming there are no sensations, it follows that +there is no idea of existence." + +"I maintain the contrary," began Sergey Ivanovitch. + +But here it seemed to Levin that just as they were close upon the +real point of the matter, they were again retreating, and he made +up his mind to put a question to the professor. + +"According to that, if my senses are annihilated, if my body is +dead, I can have no existence of any sort?" he queried. + +The professor, in annoyance, and, as it were, mental suffering +at the interruption, looked round at the strange inquirer, more +like a bargeman than a philosopher, and turned his eyes upon +Sergey Ivanovitch, as though to ask: What's one to say to him? +But Sergey Ivanovitch, who had been talking with far less heat +and one-sidedness than the professor, and who had sufficient +breadth of mind to answer the professor, and at the same time to +comprehend the simple and natural point of view from which the +question was put, smiled and said: + +"That question we have no right to answer as yet." + +"We have not the requisite data," chimed in the professor, and he +went back to his argument. "No," he said; "I would point out the +fact that if, as Pripasov directly asserts, perception is based +on sensation, then we are bound to distinguish sharply between +these two conceptions." + +Levin listened no more, and simply waited for the professor to +go. + + + +Chapter 8 + + +When the professor had gone, Sergey Ivanovitch turned to his +brother. + +"Delighted that you've come. For some time, is it? How's your +farming getting on?" + +Levin knew that his elder brother took little interest in +farming, and only put the question in deference to him, and so he +only told him about the sale of his wheat and money matters. + +Levin had meant to tell his brother of his determination to get +married, and to ask his advice; he had indeed firmly resolved to +do so. But after seeing his brother, listening to his +conversation with the professor, hearing afterwards the +unconsciously patronizing tone in which his brother questioned +him about agricultural matters (their mother's property had not +been divided, and Levin took charge of both their shares), Levin +felt that he could not for some reason begin to talk to him of +his intention of marrying. He felt that his brother would not +look at it as he would have wished him to. + +"Well, how is your district council doing?" asked Sergey +Ivanovitch, who was greatly interested in these local boards and +attached great importance to them. + +"I really don't know." + +"What! Why, surely you're a member of the board?" + +"No, I'm not a member now; I've resigned," answered Levin, "and I +no longer attend the meetings." + +"What a pity!" commented Sergey Ivanovitch, frowning. + +Levin in self-defense began to describe what took place in the +meetings in his district. + +"That's how it always is!" Sergey Ivanovitch interrupted him. +"We Russians are always like that. Perhaps it's our strong +point, really, the faculty of seeing our own shortcomings; but we +overdo it, we comfort ourselves with irony which we always have +on the tip of our tongues. All I say is, give such rights as our +local self-government to any other European people--why, the +Germans or the English would have worked their way to freedom +from them, while we simply turn them into ridicule." + +"But how can it be helped?" said Levin penitently. "It was my +last effort. And I did try with all my soul. I can't. I'm no +good at it." + +"It's not that you're no good at it," said Sergey Ivanovitch; "it +is that you don't look at it as you should." + +"Perhaps not," Levin answered dejectedly. + +"Oh! do you know brother Nikolay's turned up again?" + +This brother Nikolay was the elder brother of Konstantin Levin, +and half-brother of Sergey Ivanovitch; a man utterly ruined, who +had dissipated the greater part of his fortune, was living in the +strangest and lowest company, and had quarreled with his +brothers. + +"What did you say?" Levin cried with horror. "How do you know?" + +"Prokofy saw him in the street." + +"Here in Moscow? Where is he? Do you know?" Levin got up from +his chair, as though on the point of starting off at once. + +"I am sorry I told you," said Sergey Ivanovitch, shaking his head +at his younger brother's excitement. "I sent to find out where +he is living, and sent him his IOU to Trubin, which I paid. This +is the answer he sent me." + +And Sergey Ivanovitch took a note from under a paper-weight and +handed it to his brother. + +Levin read in the queer, familiar handwriting: "I humbly beg you +to leave me in peace. That's the only favor I ask of my gracious +brothers.--Nikolay Levin." + +Levin read it, and without raising his head stood with the note +in his hands opposite Sergey Ivanovitch. + +There was a struggle in his heart between the desire to forget +his unhappy brother for the time, and the consciousness that it +would be base to do so. + +"He obviously wants to offend me," pursued Sergey Ivanovitch; +"but he cannot offend me, and I should have wished with all my +heart to assist him, but I know it's impossible to do that." + +"Yes, yes," repeated Levin. "I understand and appreciate your +attitude to him; but I shall go and see him." + +"If you want to, do; but I shouldn't advise it," said Sergey +Ivanovitch. "As regards myself, I have no fear of your doing so; +he will not make you quarrel with me; but for your own sake, I +should say you would do better not to go. You can't do him any +good; still, do as you please." + +"Very likely I can't do any good, but I feel--especially at such +a moment--but that's another thing--I feel I could not be at +peace." + +"Well, that I don't understand," said Sergey Ivanovitch. "One +thing I do understand," he added; "it's a lesson in humility. I +have come to look very differently and more charitably on what is +called infamous since brother Nikolay has become what he is...you +know what he did..." + +"Oh, it's awful, awful!" repeated Levin. + +After obtaining his brother's address from Sergey Ivanovitch's +footman, Levin was on the point of setting off at once to see +him, but on second thought he decided to put off his visit till +the evening. The first thing to do to set his heart at rest was +to accomplish what he had come to Moscow for. From his brother's +Levin went to Oblonsky's office, and on getting news of the +Shtcherbatskys from him, he drove to the place where he had been +told he might find Kitty. + + + +Chapter 9 + + +At four o'clock, conscious of his throbbing heart, Levin stepped +out of a hired sledge at the Zoological Gardens, and turned along +the path to the frozen mounds and the skating ground, knowing +that he would certainly find her there, as he had seen the +Shtcherbatskys' carriage at the entrance. + +It was a bright, frosty day. Rows of carriages, sledges, +drivers, and policemen were standing in the approach. Crowds of +well-dressed people, with hats bright in the sun, swarmed about +the entrance and along the well-swept little paths between the +little houses adorned with carving in the Russian style. The old +curly birches of the gardens, all their twigs laden with snow, +looked as though freshly decked in sacred vestments. + +He walked along the path towards the skating-ground, and kept +saying to himself--"You mustn't be excited, you must be calm. +What's the matter with you? What do you want? Be quiet, +stupid," he conjured his heart. And the more he tried to compose +himself, the more breathless he found himself. An acquaintance +met him and called him by his name, but Levin did not even +recognize him. He went towards the mounds, whence came the clank +of the chains of sledges as they slipped down or were dragged up, +the rumble of the sliding sledges, and the sounds of merry +voices. He walked on a few steps, and the skating-ground lay +open before his eyes, and at once, amidst all the skaters, he +knew her. + +He knew she was there by the rapture and the terror that seized +on his heart. She was standing talking to a lady at the opposite +end of the ground. There was apparently nothing striking either +in her dress or her attitude. But for Levin she was as easy to +find in that crowd as a rose among nettles. Everything was made +bright by her. She was the smile that shed light on all round +her. "Is it possible I can go over there on the ice, go up to +her?" he thought. The place where she stood seemed to him a holy +shrine, unapproachable, and there was one moment when he was +almost retreating, so overwhelmed was he with terror. He had to +make an effort to master himself, and to remind himself that +people of all sorts were moving about her, and that he too might +come there to skate. He walked down, for a long while avoiding +looking at her as at the sun, but seeing her, as one does the +sun, without looking. + +On that day of the week and at that time of day people of one +set, all acquainted with one another, used to meet on the ice. +There were crack skaters there, showing off their skill, and +learners clinging to chairs with timid, awkward movements, boys, +and elderly people skating with hygienic motives. They seemed to +Levin an elect band of blissful beings because they were here, +near her. All the skaters, it seemed, with perfect +self-possession, skated towards her, skated by her, even spoke to +her, and were happy, quite apart from her, enjoying the capital +ice and the fine weather. + +Nikolay Shtcherbatsky, Kitty's cousin, in a short jacket and +tight trousers, was sitting on a garden seat with his skates on. +Seeing Levin, he shouted to him: + +"Ah, the first skater in Russia! Been here long? First-rate +ice--do put your skates on." + +"I haven't got my skates," Levin answered, marveling at this +boldness and ease in her presence, and not for one second losing +sight of her, though he did not look at her. He felt as though +the sun were coming near him. She was in a corner, and turning +out her slender feet in their high boots with obvious timidity, +she skated towards him. A boy in Russian dress, desperately +waving his arms and bowed down to the ground, overtook her. She +skated a little uncertainly; taking her hands out of the little +muff that hung on a cord, she held them ready for emergency, and +looking towards Levin, whom she had recognized, she smiled at +him, and at her own fears. When she had got round the turn, she +gave herself a push off with one foot, and skated straight up to +Shtcherbatsky. Clutching at his arm, she nodded smiling to +Levin. She was more splendid than he had imagined her. + +When he thought of her, he could call up a vivid picture of her +to himself, especially the charm of that little fair head, so +freely set on the shapely girlish shoulders, and so full of +childish brightness and good humor. The childishness of her +expression, together with the delicate beauty of her figure, made +up her special charm, and that he fully realized. But what +always struck him in her as something unlooked for, was the +expression of her eyes, soft, serene, and truthful, and above +all, her smile, which always transported Levin to an enchanted +world, where he felt himself softened and tender, as he +remembered himself in some days of his early childhood. + +"Have you been here long?" she said, giving him her hand. "Thank +you," she added, as he picked up the handkerchief that had fallen +out of her muff. + +"I? I've not long...yesterday...I mean today...I arrived," +answered Levin, in his emotion not at once understanding her +question. "I was meaning to come and see you," he said; and +then, recollecting with what intention he was trying to see her, +he was promptly overcome with confusion and blushed. + +"I didn't know you could skate, and skate so well." + +She looked at him earnestly, as though wishing to make out the +cause of his confusion. + +"Your praise is worth having. The tradition is kept up here that +you are the best of skaters," she said, with her little +black-gloved hand brushing a grain of hoarfrost off her muff. + +"Yes, I used once to skate with passion; I wanted to reach +perfection." + +"You do everything with passion, I think," she said smiling. "I +should so like to see how you skate. Put on skates, and let us +skate together." + +"Skate together! Can that be possible?" thought Levin, gazing at +her. + +"I'll put them on directly," he said. + +And he went off to get skates. + +"It's a long while since we've seen you here, sir," said the +attendant, supporting his foot, and screwing on the heel of the +skate. "Except you, there's none of the gentlemen first-rate +skaters. Will that be all right?" said he, tightening the strap. + +"Oh, yes, yes; make haste, please," answered Levin, with +difficulty restraining the smile of rapture which would +overspread his face. "Yes," he thought, "this now is life, this +is happiness! _Together,_ she said; _let us skate together!_ Speak +to her now? But that's just why I'm afraid to speak--because I'm +happy now, happy in hope, anyway.... And then?.... But I must! +I must! I must! Away with weakness!" + +Levin rose to his feet, took off his overcoat, and scurrying over +the rough ice round the hut, came out on the smooth ice and +skated without effort, as it were, by simple exercise of will, +increasing and slackening speed and turning his course. He +approached with timidity, but again her smile reassured him. + +She gave him her hand, and they set off side by side, going +faster and faster, and the more rapidly they moved the more +tightly she grasped his hand. + +"With you I should soon learn; I somehow feel confidence in you," +she said to him. + +"And I have confidence in myself when you are leaning on me," he +said, but was at once panic-stricken at what he had said, and +blushed. And indeed, no sooner had he uttered these words, when +all at once, like the sun going behind a cloud, her face lost all +its friendliness, and Levin detected the familiar change in her +expression that denoted the working of thought; a crease showed +on her smooth brow. + +"Is there anything troubling you?--though I've no right to ask +such a question," he added hurriedly. + +"Oh, why so?.... No, I have nothing to trouble me," she +responded coldly; and she added immediately: "You haven't seen +Mlle. Linon, have you?" + +"Not yet." + +"Go and speak to her, she likes you so much." + +"What's wrong? I have offended her. Lord help me!" thought +Levin, and he flew towards the old Frenchwoman with the gray +ringlets, who was sitting on a bench. Smiling and showing her +false teeth, she greeted him as an old friend. + +"Yes, you see we're growing up," she said to him, glancing +towards Kitty, "and growing old. _Tiny bear_ has grown big now!" +pursued the Frenchwoman, laughing, and she reminded him of his +joke about the three young ladies whom he had compared to the +three bears in the English nursery tale. "Do you remember that's +what you used to call them?" + +He remembered absolutely nothing, but she had been laughing at +the joke for ten years now, and was fond of it. + +"Now, go and skate, go and skate. Our Kitty has learned to skate +nicely, hasn't she?" + +When Levin darted up to Kitty her face was no longer stern; her +eyes looked at him with the same sincerity and friendliness, but +Levin fancied that in her friendliness there was a certain note +of deliberate composure. And he felt depressed. After talking a +little of her old governess and her peculiarities, she questioned +him about his life. + +"Surely you must be dull in the country in the winter, aren't +you?" she said. + +"No, I'm not dull, I am very busy," he said, feeling that she was +holding him in check by her composed tone, which he would not +have the force to break through, just as it had been at the +beginning of the winter. + +"Are you going to stay in town long?" Kitty questioned him. + +"I don't know," he answered, not thinking of what he was saying. +The thought that if he were held in check by her tone of quiet +friendliness he would end by going back again without deciding +anything came into his mind, and he resolved to make a struggle +against it. + +"How is it you don't know?" + +"I don't know. It depends upon you," he said, and was +immediately horror-stricken at his own words. + +Whether it was that she had heard his words, or that she did not +want to hear them, she made a sort of stumble, twice struck out, +and hurriedly skated away from him. She skated up to Mlle. +Linon, said something to her, and went towards the pavilion where +the ladies took off their skates. + +"My God! what have I done! Merciful God! help me, guide me," +said Levin, praying inwardly, and at the same time, feeling a +need of violent exercise, he skated about describing inner and +outer circles. + +At that moment one of the young men, the best of the skaters of +the day, came out of the coffee-house in his skates, with a +cigarette in his mouth. Taking a run, he dashed down the steps +in his skates, crashing and bounding up and down. He flew down, +and without even changing the position of his hands, skated away +over the ice. + +"Ah, that's a new trick!" said Levin, and he promptly ran up to +the top to do this new trick. + +"Don't break your neck! it needs practice!" Nikolay Shtcherbatsky +shouted after him. + +Levin went to the steps, took a run from above as best he could, +and dashed down, preserving his balance in this unwonted movement +with his hands. On the last step he stumbled, but barely +touching the ice with his hand, with a violent effort recovered +himself, and skated off, laughing. + +"How splendid, how nice he is!" Kitty was thinking at that time, +as she came out of the pavilion with Mlle. Linon, and looked +towards him with a smile of quiet affection, as though he were a +favorite brother. "And can it be my fault, can I have done +anything wrong? They talk of flirtation. I know it's not he +that I love; but still I am happy with him, and he's so jolly. +Only, why did he say that?..." she mused. + +Catching sight of Kitty going away, and her mother meeting her at +the steps, Levin, flushed from his rapid exercise, stood still +and pondered a minute. He took off his skates, and overtook the +mother and daughter at the entrance of the gardens. + +"Delighted to see you," said Princess Shtcherbatskaya. "On +Thursdays we are home, as always." + +"Today, then?" + +"We shall be pleased to see you," the princess said stiffly. + +This stiffness hurt Kitty, and she could not resist the desire to +smooth over her mother's coldness. She turned her head, and with +a smile said: + +"Good-bye till this evening." + +At that moment Stepan Arkadyevitch, his hat cocked on one side, +with beaming face and eyes, strode into the garden like a +conquering hero. But as he approached his mother-in-law, he +responded in a mournful and crestfallen tone to her inquiries +about Dolly's health. After a little subdued and dejected +conversation with his mother-in-law, he threw out his chest +again, and put his arm in Levin's. + +"Well, shall we set off?" he asked. "I've been thinking about +you all this time, and I'm very, very glad you've come," he said, +looking him in the face with a significant air. + +"Yes, come along," answered Levin in ecstasy, hearing unceasingly +the sound of that voice saying, "Good-bye till this evening," and +seeing the smile with which it was said. + +"To the England or the Hermitage?" + +"I don't mind which." + +"All right, then, the England," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, +selecting that restaurant because he owed more there than at the +Hermitage, and consequently considered it mean to avoid it. +"Have you got a sledge? That's first-rate, for I sent my +carriage home." + +The friends hardly spoke all the way. Levin was wondering what +that change in Kitty's expression had meant, and alternately +assuring himself that there was hope, and falling into despair, +seeing clearly that his hopes were insane, and yet all the while +he felt himself quite another man, utterly unlike what he had +been before her smile and those words, "Good-bye till this +evening." + +Stepan Arkadyevitch was absorbed during the drive in composing +the menu of the dinner. + +"You like turbot, don't you?" he said to Levin as they were +arriving. + +"Eh?" responded Levin. "Turbot? Yes, I'm _awfully_ fond of +turbot." + + + +Chapter 10 + + +When Levin went into the restaurant with Oblonsky, he could not +help noticing a certain peculiarity of expression, as it were, a +restrained radiance, about the face and whole figure of Stepan +Arkadyevitch. Oblonsky took off his overcoat, and with his hat +over one ear walked into the dining room, giving directions to +the Tatar waiters, who were clustered about him in evening coats, +bearing napkins. Bowing to right and left to the people he met, +and here as everywhere joyously greeting acquaintances, he went +up to the sideboard for a preliminary appetizer of fish and +vodka, and said to the painted Frenchwoman decked in ribbons, +lace, and ringlets, behind the counter, something so amusing that +even that Frenchwoman was moved to genuine laughter. Levin for +his part refrained from taking any vodka simply because he felt +such a loathing of that Frenchwoman, all made up, it seemed, of +false hair, _poudre de riz,_ and _vinaigre de toilette_. He made +haste to move away from her, as from a dirty place. His whole +soul was filled with memories of Kitty, and there was a smile of +triumph and happiness shining in his eyes. + +"This way, your excellency, please. Your excellency won't be +disturbed here," said a particularly pertinacious, white-headed +old Tatar with immense hips and coat-tails gaping widely behind. +"Walk in, your excellency," he said to Levin; by way of showing +his respect to Stepan Arkadyevitch, being attentive to his guest +as well. + +Instantly flinging a fresh cloth over the round table under the +bronze chandelier, though it already had a table cloth on it, he +pushed up velvet chairs, and came to a standstill before Stepan +Arkadyevitch with a napkin and a bill of fare in his hands, +awaiting his commands. + +"If you prefer it, your excellency, a private room will be free +directly; Prince Golistin with a lady. Fresh oysters have come +in." + +"Ah! oysters." + +Stepan Arkadyevitch became thoughtful. + +"How if we were to change our program, Levin?" he said, keeping +his finger on the bill of fare. And his face expressed serious +hesitation. "Are the oysters good? Mind now." + +"They're Flensburg, your excellency. We've no Ostend." + +"Flensburg will do, but are they fresh?" + +"Only arrived yesterday." + +"Well, then, how if we were to begin with oysters, and so change +the whole program? Eh?" + +"It's all the same to me. I should like cabbage soup and +porridge better than anything; but of course there's nothing like +that here." + +"_Porridge a la Russe,_ your honor would like?" said the Tatar, +bending down to Levin, like a nurse speaking to a child. + +"No, joking apart, whatever you choose is sure to be good. I've +been skating, and I'm hungry. And don't imagine," he added, +detecting a look of dissatisfaction on Oblonsky's face, "that I +shan't appreciate your choice. I am fond of good things." + +"I should hope so! After all, it's one of the pleasures of +life," said Stepan Arkadyevitch. "Well, then, my friend, you +give us two--or better say three--dozen oysters, clear soup +with vegetables..." + +"Printaniere," prompted the Tatar. But Stepan Arkadyevitch +apparently did not care to allow him the satisfaction of giving +the French names of the dishes. + +"With vegetables in it, you know. Then turbot with thick sauce, +then...roast beef; and mind it's good. Yes, and capons, perhaps, +and then sweets." + +The Tatar, recollecting that it was Stepan Arkadyevitch's way not +to call the dishes by the names in the French bill of fare, did +not repeat them after him, but could not resist rehearsing the +whole menu to himself according to the bill:--"_Soupe +printaniere, turbot, sauce Beaumarchais, poulard a l'estragon, +macedoine de fruits_...etc.," and then instantly, as though worked +by springs, laying down one bound bill of fare, he took up +another, the list of wines, and submitted it to Stepan +Arkadyevitch. + +"What shall we drink?" + +"What you like, only not too much. Champagne," said Levin. + +"What! to start with? You're right though, I dare say. Do you +like the white seal?" + +"_Cachet blanc,_" prompted the Tatar. + +"Very well, then, give us that brand with the oysters, and then +we'll see." + +"Yes, sir. And what table wine?" + +"You can give us Nuits. Oh, no, better the classic Chablis." + +"Yes, sir. And _your_ cheese, your excellency?" + +"Oh, yes, Parmesan. Or would you like another?" + +"No, it's all the same to me," said Levin, unable to suppress a +smile. + +And the Tatar ran off with flying coat-tails, and in five minutes +darted in with a dish of opened oysters on mother-of-pearl +shells, and a bottle between his fingers. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch crushed the starchy napkin, tucked it into +his waistcoat, and settling his arms comfortably, started on the +oysters. + +"Not bad," he said, stripping the oysters from the pearly shell +with a silver fork, and swallowing them one after another. "Not +bad," he repeated, turning his dewy, brilliant eyes from Levin to +the Tatar. + +Levin ate the oysters indeed, though white bread and cheese would +have pleased him better. But he was admiring Oblonsky. Even the +Tatar, uncorking the bottle and pouring the sparkling wine into +the delicate glasses, glanced at Stepan Arkadyevitch, and settled +his white cravat with a perceptible smile of satisfaction. + +"You don't care much for oysters, do you?" said Stepan +Arkadyevitch, emptying his wine glass, "or you're worried about +something. Eh?" + +He wanted Levin to be in good spirits. But it was not that Levin +was not in good spirits; he was ill at ease. With what he had in +his soul, he felt sore and uncomfortable in the restaurant, in +the midst of private rooms where men were dining with ladies, in +all this fuss and bustle; the surroundings of bronzes, looking +glasses, gas, and waiters--all of it was offensive to him. He +was afraid of sullying what his soul was brimful of. + +"I? Yes, I am; but besides, all this bothers me," he said. "You +can't conceive how queer it all seems to a country person like +me, as queer as that gentleman's nails I saw at your place..." + +"Yes, I saw how much interested you were in poor Grinevitch's +nails," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, laughing. + +"It's too much for me," responded Levin. "Do try, now, and put +yourself in my place, take the point of view of a country person. +We in the country try to bring our hands into such a state as +will be most convenient for working with. So we cut our nails; +sometimes we turn up our sleeves. And here people purposely let +their nails grow as long as they will, and link on small saucers +by way of studs, so that they can do nothing with their hands." + +Stepan Arkadyevitch smiled gaily. + +"Oh, yes, that's just a sign that he has no need to do coarse +work. His work is with the mind..." + +"Maybe. But still it's queer to me, just as at this moment it +seems queer to me that we country folks try to get our meals over +as soon as we can, so as to be ready for our work, while here are +we trying to drag out our meal as long as possible, and with that +object eating oysters..." + +"Why, of course," objected Stepan Arkadyevitch. "But that's just +the aim of civilization--to make everything a source of +enjoyment." + +"Well, if that's its aim, I'd rather be a savage." + +"And so you are a savage. All you Levins are savages." + +Levin sighed. He remembered his brother Nikolay, and felt +ashamed and sore, and he scowled; but Oblonsky began speaking of +a subject which at once drew his attention. + +"Oh, I say, are you going tonight to our people, the +Shtcherbatskys', I mean?" he said, his eyes sparkling +significantly as he pushed away the empty rough shells, and drew +the cheese towards him. + +"Yes, I shall certainly go," replied Levin; "though I fancied the +princess was not very warm in her invitation." + +"What nonsense! That's her manner.... Come, boy, the soup!.... +That's her manner--_grande dame,_" said Stepan Arkadyevitch. "I'm +coming, too, but I have to go to the Countess Bonina's rehearsal. +Come, isn't it true that you're a savage? How do you explain the +sudden way in which you vanished from Moscow? The Shtcherbatskys +were continually asking me about you, as though I ought to know. +The only thing I know is that you always do what no one else +does." + +"Yes," said Levin, slowly and with emotion, "you're right. I am +a savage. Only, my savageness is not in having gone away, but in +coming now. Now I have come..." + +"Oh, what a lucky fellow you are!" broke in Stepan Arkadyevitch, +looking into Levin's eyes. + +"Why?" + + "I know a gallant steed by tokens sure, + And by his eyes I know a youth in love," + +declaimed Stepan Arkadyevitch. "Everything is before you." + +"Why, is it over for you already?" + +"No; not over exactly, but the future is yours, and the present +is mine, and the present--well, it's not all that it might be." + +"How so?" + +"Oh, things go wrong. But I don't want to talk of myself, and +besides I can't explain it all," said Stepan Arkadyevitch. +"Well, why have you come to Moscow, then?.... Hi! take away!" he +called to the Tatar. + +"You guess?" responded Levin, his eyes like deep wells of light +fixed on Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +"I guess, but I can't be the first to talk about it. You can see +by that whether I guess right or wrong," said Stepan +Arkadyevitch, gazing at Levin with a subtle smile. + +"Well, and what have you to say to me?" said Levin in a quivering +voice, feeling that all the muscles of his face were quivering +too. "How do you look at the question?" + +Stepan Arkadyevitch slowly emptied his glass of Chablis, never +taking his eyes off Levin. + +"I?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, "there's nothing I desire so much +as that--nothing! It would be the best thing that could be." + +"But you're not making a mistake? You know what we're speaking +of?" said Levin, piercing him with his eyes. "You think it's +possible?" + +"I think it's possible. Why not possible?" + +"No! do you really think it's possible? No, tell me all you +think! Oh, but if...if refusal's in store for me!... Indeed I +feel sure..." + +"Why should you think that?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, smiling at +his excitement. + +"It seems so to me sometimes. That will be awful for me, and for +her too." + +"Oh, well, anyway there's nothing awful in it for a girl. Every +girl's proud of an offer." + +"Yes, every girl, but not she." + +Stepan Arkadyevitch smiled. He so well knew that feeling of +Levin's, that for him all the girls in the world were divided +into two classes: one class--all the girls in the world except +her, and those girls with all sorts of human weaknesses, and very +ordinary girls: the other class--she alone, having no weaknesses +of any sort and higher than all humanity. + +"Stay, take some sauce," he said, holding back Levin's hand as it +pushed away the sauce. + +Levin obediently helped himself to sauce, but would not let +Stepan Arkadyevitch go on with his dinner. + +"No, stop a minute, stop a minute," he said. "You must +understand that it's a question of life and death for me. I have +never spoken to any one of this. And there's no one I could +speak of it to, except you. You know we're utterly unlike each +other, different tastes and views and everything; but I know +you're fond of me and understand me, and that's why I like you +awfully. But for God's sake, be quite straightforward with me." + +"I tell you what I think," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, smiling. +"But I'll say more: my wife is a wonderful woman..." Stepan +Arkadyevitch sighed, remembering his position with his wife, and, +after a moment's silence, resumed--"She has a gift of foreseeing +things. She sees right through people; but that's not all; she +knows what will come to pass, especially in the way of marriages. +She foretold, for instance, that Princess Shahovskaya would marry +Brenteln. No one would believe it, but it came to pass. And +she's on your side." + +"How do you mean?" + +"It's not only that she likes you--she says that Kitty is +certain to be your wife." + +At these words Levin's face suddenly lighted up with a smile, a +smile not far from tears of emotion. + +"She says that!" cried Levin. "I always said she was exquisite, +your wife. There, that's enough, enough said about it," he said, +getting up from his seat. + +"All right, but do sit down." + +But Levin could not sit down. He walked with his firm tread +twice up and down the little cage of a room, blinked his eyelids +that his tears might not fall, and only then sat down to the +table. + +"You must understand," said he, "it's not love. I've been in +love, but it's not that. It's not my feeling, but a sort of +force outside me has taken possession of me. I went away, you +see, because I made up my mind that it could never be, you +understand, as a happiness that does not come on earth; but I've +struggled with myself, I see there's no living without it. And +it must be settled." + +"What did you go away for?" + +"Ah, stop a minute! Ah, the thoughts that come crowding on one! +The questions one must ask oneself! Listen. You can't imagine +what you've done for me by what you said. I'm so happy that I've +become positively hateful; I've forgotten everything. I heard +today that my brother Nikolay...you know, he's here...I had even +forgotten him. It seems to me that he's happy too. It's a sort +of madness. But one thing's awful.... Here, you've been +married, you know the feeling...it's awful that we--old--with a +past... not of love, but of sins...are brought all at once so +near to a creature pure and innocent; it's loathsome, and that's +why one can't help feeling oneself unworthy." + +"Oh, well, you've not many sins on your conscience." + +"Alas! all the same," said Levin, "when with loathing I go over +my life, I shudder and curse and bitterly regret it.... Yes." + +"What would you have? The world's made so," said Stepan +Arkadyevitch. + +"The one comfort is like that prayer, which I always liked: +'Forgive me not according to my unworthiness, but according to +Thy lovingkindness.' That's the only way she can forgive me." + + + +Chapter 11 + + +Levin emptied his glass, and they were silent for a while. + +"There's one other thing I ought to tell you. Do you know +Vronsky?" Stepan Arkadyevitch asked Levin. + +"No, I don't. Why do you ask?" + +"Give us another bottle," Stepan Arkadyevitch directed the Tatar, +who was filling up their glasses and fidgeting round them just +when he was not wanted. + +"Why you ought to know Vronsky is that he's one of your rivals." + +"Who's Vronsky?" said Levin, and his face was suddenly +transformed from the look of childlike ecstasy which Oblonsky had +just been admiring to an angry and unpleasant expression. + +"Vronsky is one of the sons of Count Kirill Ivanovitch Vronsky, +and one of the finest specimens of the gilded youth of +Petersburg. I made his acquaintance in Tver when I was there on +official business, and he came there for the levy of recruits. +Fearfully rich, handsome, great connections, an aide-de-camp, and +with all that a very nice, good-natured fellow. But he's more +than simply a good-natured fellow, as I've found out here--he's +a cultivated man, too, and very intelligent; he's a man who'll +make his mark." + +Levin scowled and was dumb. + +"Well, he turned up here soon after you'd gone, and as I can see, +he's over head and ears in love with Kitty, and you know that her +mother..." + +"Excuse me, but I know nothing," said Levin, frowning gloomily. +And immediately he recollected his brother Nikolay and how +hateful he was to have been able to forget him. + +"You wait a bit, wait a bit," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, smiling +and touching his hand. "I've told you what I know, and I repeat +that in this delicate and tender matter, as far as one can +conjecture, I believe the chances are in your favor." + +Levin dropped back in his chair; his face was pale. + +"But I would advise you to settle the thing as soon as may be," +pursued Oblonsky, filling up his glass. + +"No, thanks, I can't drink any more," said Levin, pushing away +his glass. "I shall be drunk.... Come, tell me how are you +getting on?" he went on, obviously anxious to change the +conversation. + +"One word more: in any case I advise you to settle the question +soon. Tonight I don't advise you to speak," said Stepan +Arkadyevitch. "Go round tomorrow morning, make an offer in due +form, and God bless you..." + +"Oh, do you still think of coming to me for some shooting? Come +next spring, do," said Levin. + +Now his whole soul was full of remorse that he had begun this +conversation with Stepan Arkadyevitch. A feeling such as his was +profaned by talk of the rivalry of some Petersburg officer, of +the suppositions and the counsels of Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch smiled. He knew what was passing in Levin's +soul. + +"I'll come some day," he said. "But women, my boy, they're the +pivot everything turns upon. Things are in a bad way with me, +very bad. And it's all through women. Tell me frankly now," he +pursued, picking up a cigar and keeping one hand on his glass; +"give me your advice." + +"Why, what is it?" + +"I'll tell you. Suppose you're married, you love your wife, but +you're fascinated by another woman..." + +"Excuse me, but I'm absolutely unable to comprehend how...just as +I can't comprehend how I could now, after my dinner, go straight +to a baker's shop and steal a roll." + +Stepan Arkadyevitch's eyes sparkled more than usual. + +"Why not? A roll will sometimes smell so good one can't resist +it." + + "Himmlisch ist's, wenn ich bezwungen + Meine irdische Begier; + Aber doch wenn's nich gelungen + Hatt' ich auch recht huebsch Plaisir!" + +As he said this, Stepan Arkadyevitch smiled subtly. Levin, too, +could not help smiling. + +"Yes, but joking apart," resumed Stepan Arkadyevitch, "you must +understand that the woman is a sweet, gentle loving creature, +poor and lonely, and has sacrificed everything. Now, when the +thing's done, don't you see, can one possibly cast her off? Even +supposing one parts from her, so as not to break up one's family +life, still, can one help feeling for her, setting her on her +feet, softening her lot?" + +"Well, you must excuse me there. You know to me all women are +divided into two classes...at least no...truer to say: there are +women and there are...I've never seen exquisite fallen beings, +and I never shall see them, but such creatures as that painted +Frenchwoman at the counter with the ringlets are vermin to my +mind, and all fallen women are the same." + +"But the Magdalen?" + +"Ah, drop that! Christ would never have said those words if He +had known how they would be abused. Of all the Gospel those +words are the only ones remembered. However, I'm not saying so +much what I think, as what I feel. I have a loathing for fallen +women. You're afraid of spiders, and I of these vermin. Most +likely you've not made a study of spiders and don't know their +character; and so it is with me." + +"It's very well for you to talk like that; it's very much like +that gentleman in Dickens who used to fling all difficult +questions over his right shoulder. But to deny the facts is no +answer. What's to be done--you tell me that, what's to be done? +Your wife gets older, while you're full of life. Before you've +time to look round, you feel that you can't love your wife with +love, however much you may esteem her. And then all at once love +turns up, and you're done for, done for," Stepan Arkadyevitch +said with weary despair. + +Levin half smiled. + +"Yes, you're done for," resumed Oblonsky. "But what's to be +done?" + +"Don't steal rolls." + +Stepan Arkadyevitch laughed outright. + +"Oh, moralist! But you must understand, there are two women; one +insists only on her rights, and those rights are your love, which +you can't give her; and the other sacrifices everything for you +and asks for nothing. What are you to do? How are you to act? +There's a fearful tragedy in it." + +"If you care for my profession of faith as regards that, I'll +tell you that I don't believe there was any tragedy about it. +And this is why. To my mind, love...both the sorts of love, +which you remember Plato defines in his Banquet, served as the +test of men. Some men only understand one sort, and some only +the other. And those who only know the non-platonic love have no +need to talk of tragedy. In such love there can be no sort of +tragedy. 'I'm much obliged for the gratification, my humble +respects'--that's all the tragedy. And in platonic love there +can be no tragedy, because in that love all is clear and pure, +because..." + +At that instant Levin recollected his own sins and the inner +conflict he had lived through. And he added unexpectedly: + +"But perhaps you are right. Very likely...I don't know, I don't +know." + +"It's this, don't you see," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, "you're +very much all of a piece. That's your strong point and your +failing. You have a character that's all of a piece, and you +want the whole of life to be of a piece too--but that's not how +it is. You despise public official work because you want the +reality to be invariably corresponding all the while with the +aim--and that's not how it is. You want a man's work, too, +always to have a defined aim, and love and family life always to +be undivided--and that's not how it is. All the variety, all the +charm, all the beauty of life is made up of light and shadow." + +Levin sighed and made no reply. He was thinking of his own +affairs, and did not hear Oblonsky. + +And suddenly both of them felt that though they were friends, +though they had been dining and drinking together, which should +have drawn them closer, yet each was thinking only of his own +affairs, and they had nothing to do with one another. Oblonsky +had more than once experienced this extreme sense of aloofness, +instead of intimacy, coming on after dinner, and he knew what to +do in such cases. + +"Bill!" he called, and he went into the next room where he +promptly came across an aide-de-camp of his acquaintance and +dropped into conversation with him about an actress and her +protector. And at once in the conversation with the aide-de-camp +Oblonsky had a sense of relaxation and relief after the +conversation with Levin, which always put him to too great a +mental and spiritual strain. + +When the Tatar appeared with a bill for twenty-six roubles and +odd kopecks, besides a tip for himself, Levin, who would another +time have been horrified, like any one from the country, at his +share of fourteen roubles, did not notice it, paid, and set off +homewards to dress and go to the Shtcherbatskys' there to decide +his fate. + + + +Chapter 12 + + +The young Princess Kitty Shtcherbatskaya was eighteen. It was +the first winter that she had been out in the world. Her success +in society had been greater than that of either of her elder +sisters, and greater even than her mother had anticipated. To +say nothing of the young men who danced at the Moscow balls being +almost all in love with Kitty, two serious suitors had already +this first winter made their appearance: Levin, and immediately +after his departure, Count Vronsky. + +Levin's appearance at the beginning of the winter, his frequent +visits, and evident love for Kitty, had led to the first serious +conversations between Kitty's parents as to her future, and to +disputes between them. The prince was on Levin's side; he said +he wished for nothing better for Kitty. The princess for her +part, going round the question in the manner peculiar to women, +maintained that Kitty was too young, that Levin had done nothing +to prove that he had serious intentions, that Kitty felt no great +attraction to him, and other side issues; but she did not state +the principal point, which was that she looked for a better match +for her daughter, and that Levin was not to her liking, and she +did not understand him. When Levin had abruptly departed, the +princess was delighted, and said to her husband triumphantly: +"You see I was right." When Vronsky appeared on the scene, she +was still more delighted, confirmed in her opinion that Kitty was +to make not simply a good, but a brilliant match. + +In the mother's eyes there could be no comparison between Vronsky +and Levin. She disliked in Levin his strange and uncompromising +opinions and his shyness in society, founded, as she supposed, on +his pride and his queer sort of life, as she considered it, +absorbed in cattle and peasants. She did not very much like it +that he, who was in love with her daughter, had kept coming to +the house for six weeks, as though he were waiting for something, +inspecting, as though he were afraid he might be doing them too +great an honor by making an offer, and did not realize that a +man, who continually visits at a house where there is a young +unmarried girl, is bound to make his intentions clear. And +suddenly, without doing so, he disappeared. "It's as well he's +not attractive enough for Kitty to have fallen in love with him," +thought the mother. + +Vronsky satisfied all the mother's desires. Very wealthy, +clever, of aristocratic family, on the highroad to a brilliant +career in the army and at court, and a fascinating man. Nothing +better could be wished for. + +Vronsky openly flirted with Kitty at balls, danced with her, and +came continually to the house, consequently there could be no +doubt of the seriousness of his intentions. But, in spite of +that, the mother had spent the whole of that winter in a state of +terrible anxiety and agitation. + +Princess Shtcherbatskaya had herself been married thirty years +ago, her aunt arranging the match. Her husband, about whom +everything was well known before hand, had come, looked at his +future bride, and been looked at. The match-making aunt had +ascertained and communicated their mutual impression. That +impression had been favorable. Afterwards, on a day fixed +beforehand, the expected offer was made to her parents, and +accepted. All had passed very simply and easily. So it seemed, +at least, to the princess. But over her own daughters she had +felt how far from simple and easy is the business, apparently so +commonplace, of marrying off one's daughters. The panics that +had been lived through, the thoughts that had been brooded over, +the money that had been wasted, and the disputes with her husband +over marrying the two elder girls, Darya and Natalia! Now, since +the youngest had come out, she was going through the same +terrors, the same doubts, and still more violent quarrels with +her husband than she had over the elder girls. The old prince, +like all fathers indeed, was exceedingly punctilious on the score +of the honor and reputation of his daughters. He was +irrationally jealous over his daughters, especially over Kitty, +who was his favorite. At every turn he had scenes with the +princess for compromising her daughter. The princess had grown +accustomed to this already with her other daughters, but now she +felt that there was more ground for the prince's touchiness. She +saw that of late years much was changed in the manners of +society, that a mother's duties had become still more difficult. +She saw that girls of Kitty's age formed some sort of clubs, went +to some sort of lectures, mixed freely in men's society; drove +about the streets alone, many of them did not curtsey, and, what +was the most important thing, all the girls were firmly convinced +that to choose their husbands was their own affair, and not their +parents'. "Marriages aren't made nowadays as they used to be," +was thought and said by all these young girls, and even by their +elders. But how marriages were made now, the princess could not +learn from any one. The French fashion--of the parents +arranging their children's future--was not accepted; it was +condemned. The English fashion of the complete independence of +girls was also not accepted, and not possible in Russian society. +The Russian fashion of match-making by the offices of +intermediate persons was for some reason considered unseemly; it +was ridiculed by every one, and by the princess herself. But how +girls were to be married, and how parents were to marry them, no +one knew. Everyone with whom the princess had chanced to discuss +the matter said the same thing: "Mercy on us, it's high time in +our day to cast off all that old-fashioned business. It's the +young people have to marry; and not their parents; and so we +ought to leave the young people to arrange it as they choose." It +was very easy for anyone to say that who had no daughters, but +the princess realized that in the process of getting to know each +other, her daughter might fall in love, and fall in love with +someone who did not care to marry her or who was quite unfit to +be her husband. And, however much it was instilled into the +princess that in our times young people ought to arrange their +lives for themselves, she was unable to believe it, just as she +would have been unable to believe that, at any time whatever, the +most suitable playthings for children five years old ought to be +loaded pistols. And so the princess was more uneasy over Kitty +than she had been over her elder sisters. + +Now she was afraid that Vronsky might confine himself to simply +flirting with her daughter. She saw that her daughter was in +love with him, but tried to comfort herself with the thought that +he was an honorable man, and would not do this. But at the same +time she knew how easy it is, with the freedom of manners of +today, to turn a girl's head, and how lightly men generally +regard such a crime. The week before, Kitty had told her mother +of a conversation she had with Vronsky during a mazurka. This +conversation had partly reassured the princess; but perfectly at +ease she could not be. Vronsky had told Kitty that both he and +his brother were so used to obeying their mother that they never +made up their minds to any important undertaking without +consulting her. "And just now, I am impatiently awaiting my +mother's arrival from Petersburg, as peculiarly fortunate," he +told her. + +Kitty had repeated this without attaching any significance to the +words. But her mother saw them in a different light. She knew +that the old lady was expected from day to day, that she would be +pleased at her son's choice, and she felt it strange that he +should not make his offer through fear of vexing his mother. +However, she was so anxious for the marriage itself, and still +more for relief from her fears, that she believed it was so. +Bitter as it was for the princess to see the unhappiness of her +eldest daughter, Dolly, on the point of leaving her husband, her +anxiety over the decision of her youngest daughter's fate +engrossed all her feelings. Today, with Levin's reappearance, a +fresh source of anxiety arose. She was afraid that her daughter, +who had at one time, as she fancied, a feeling for Levin, might, +from extreme sense of honor, refuse Vronsky, and that Levin's +arrival might generally complicate and delay the affair so near +being concluded. + +"Why, has he been here long?" the princess asked about Levin, as +they returned home. + +"He came today, mamma." + +"There's one thing I want to say..." began the princess, and from +her serious and alert face, Kitty guessed what it would be. + +"Mamma," she said, flushing hotly and turning quickly to her, +"please, please don't say anything about that. I know, I know +all about it." + +She wished for what her mother wished for, but the motives of her +mother's wishes wounded her. + +"I only want to say that to raise hopes..." + +"Mamma, darling, for goodness' sake, don't talk about it. It's +so horrible to talk about it." + +"I won't," said her mother, seeing the tears in her daughter's +eyes; "but one thing, my love; you promised me you would have no +secrets from me. You won't?" + +"Never, mamma, none," answered Kitty, flushing a little, and +looking her mother straight in the face, "but there's no use in +my telling you anything, and I...I...if I wanted to, I don't know +what to say or how...I don't know..." + +"No, she could not tell an untruth with those eyes," thought the +mother, smiling at her agitation and happiness. The princess +smiled that what was taking place just now in her soul seemed to +the poor child so immense and so important. + + + +Chapter 13 + + +After dinner, and till the beginning of the evening, Kitty was +feeling a sensation akin to the sensation of a young man before a +battle. Her heart throbbed violently, and her thoughts would not +rest on anything. + +She felt that this evening, when they would both meet for the +first time, would be a turning point in her life. And she was +continually picturing them to herself, at one moment each +separately, and then both together. When she mused on the past, +she dwelt with pleasure, with tenderness, on the memories of her +relations with Levin. The memories of childhood and of Levin's +friendship with her dead brother gave a special poetic charm to +her relations with him. His love for her, of which she felt +certain, was flattering and delightful to her; and it was +pleasant for her to think of Levin. In her memories of Vronsky +there always entered a certain element of awkwardness, though he +was in the highest degree well-bred and at ease, as though there +were some false note--not in Vronsky, he was very simple and +nice, but in herself, while with Levin she felt perfectly simple +and clear. But, on the other hand, directly she thought of the +future with Vronsky, there arose before her a perspective of +brilliant happiness; with Levin the future seemed misty. + +When she went upstairs to dress, and looked into the +looking-glass, she noticed with joy that it was one of her good +days, and that she was in complete possession of all her +forces,--she needed this so for what lay before her: she was +conscious of external composure and free grace in her movements. + +At half-past seven she had only just gone down into the drawing +room, when the footman announced, "Konstantin Dmitrievitch +Levin." The princess was still in her room, and the prince had +not come in. "So it is to be," thought Kitty, and all the blood +seemed to rush to her heart. She was horrified at her paleness, +as she glanced into the looking-glass. At that moment she knew +beyond doubt that he had come early on purpose to find her alone +and to make her an offer. And only then for the first time the +whole thing presented itself in a new, different aspect; only +then she realized that the question did not affect her only-- +with whom she would be happy, and whom she loved--but that she +would have that moment to wound a man whom she liked. And to +wound him cruelly. What for? Because he, dear fellow, loved +her, was in love with her. But there was no help for it, so it +must be, so it would have to be. + +"My God! shall I myself really have to say it to him?" she +thought. "Can I tell him I don't love him? That will be a lie. +What am I to say to him? That I love someone else? No, that's +impossible. I'm going away, I'm going away." + +She had reached the door, when she heard his step. "No! it's not +honest. What have I to be afraid of? I have done nothing wrong. +What is to be, will be! I'll tell the truth. And with him one +can't be ill at ease. Here he is," she said to herself, seeing +his powerful, shy figure, with his shining eyes fixed on her. +She looked straight into his face, as though imploring him to +spare her, and gave her hand. + +"It's not time yet; I think I'm too early," he said glancing +round the empty drawing room. When he saw that his expectations +were realized, that there was nothing to prevent him from +speaking, his face became gloomy. + +"Oh, no," said Kitty, and sat down at the table. + +"But this was just what I wanted, to find you alone," he began, +not sitting down, and not looking at her, so as not to lose +courage. + +"Mamma will be down directly. She was very much tired.... +Yesterday..." + +She talked on, not knowing what her lips were uttering, and not +taking her supplicating and caressing eyes off him. + +He glanced at her; she blushed, and ceased speaking. + +"I told you I did not know whether I should be here long...that +it depended on you..." + +She dropped her head lower and lower, not knowing herself what +answer she should make to what was coming. + +"That it depended on you," he repeated. "I meant to say...I +meant to say...I came for this...to be my wife!" he brought out, +not knowing what he was saying; but feeling that the most +terrible thing was said, he stopped short and looked at her... + +She was breathing heavily, not looking at him. She was feeling +ecstasy. Her soul was flooded with happiness. She had never +anticipated that the utterance of love would produce such a +powerful effect on her. But it lasted only an instant. She +remembered Vronsky. She lifted her clear, truthful eyes, and +seeing his desperate face, she answered hastily: + +"That cannot be...forgive me." + +A moment ago, and how close she had been to him, of what +importance in his life! And how aloof and remote from him she +had become now! + +"It was bound to be so," he said, not looking at her. + +He bowed, and was meaning to retreat. + + +Chapter 14 + +But at that very moment the princess came in. There was a look +of horror on her face when she saw them alone, and their +disturbed faces. Levin bowed to her, and said nothing. Kitty +did not speak nor lift her eyes. "Thank God, she has refused +him," thought the mother, and her face lighted up with the +habitual smile with which she greeted her guests on Thursdays. +She sat down and began questioning Levin about his life in the +country. He sat down again, waiting for other visitors to +arrive, in order to retreat unnoticed. + +Five minutes later there came in a friend of Kitty's, married the +preceding winter, Countess Nordston. + +She was a thin, sallow, sickly, and nervous woman, with brilliant +black eyes. She was fond of Kitty, and her affection for her +showed itself, as the affection of married women for girls always +does, in the desire to make a match for Kitty after her own ideal +of married happiness; she wanted her to marry Vronsky. Levin she +had often met at the Shtcherbatskys' early in the winter, and she +had always disliked him. Her invariable and favorite pursuit, +when they met, consisted in making fun of him. + +"I do like it when he looks down at me from the height of his +grandeur, or breaks off his learned conversation with me because +I'm a fool, or is condescending to me. I like that so; to see +him condescending! I am so glad he can't bear me," she used to +say of him. + +She was right, for Levin actually could not bear her, and +despised her for what she was proud of and regarded as a fine +characteristic--her nervousness, her delicate contempt and +indifference for everything coarse and earthly. + +The Countess Nordston and Levin got into that relation with one +another not seldom seen in society, when two persons, who remain +externally on friendly terms, despise each other to such a degree +that they cannot even take each other seriously, and cannot even +be offended by each other. + +The Countess Nordston pounced upon Levin at once. + +"Ah, Konstantin Dmitrievitch! So you've come back to our corrupt +Babylon," she said, giving him her tiny, yellow hand, and +recalling what he had chanced to say early in the winter, that +Moscow was a Babylon. "Come, is Babylon reformed, or have you +degenerated?" she added, glancing with a simper at Kitty. + +"It's very flattering for me, countess, that you remember my +words so well," responded Levin, who had succeeded in recovering +his composure, and at once from habit dropped into his tone of +joking hostility to the Countess Nordston. "They must certainly +make a great impression on you." + +"Oh, I should think so! I always note them all down. Well, +Kitty, have you been skating again?..." + +And she began talking to Kitty. Awkward as it was for Levin to +withdraw now, it would still have been easier for him to +perpetrate this awkwardness than to remain all the evening and +see Kitty, who glanced at him now and then and avoided his eyes. +He was on the point of getting up, when the princess, noticing +that he was silent, addressed him. + +"Shall you be long in Moscow? You're busy with the district +council, though, aren't you, and can't be away for long?" + +"No, princess, I'm no longer a member of the council," he said. +"I have come up for a few days." + +"There's something the matter with him," thought Countess +Nordston, glancing at his stern, serious face. "He isn't in his +old argumentative mood. But I'll draw him out. I do love making +a fool of him before Kitty, and I'll do it." + +"Konstantin Dmitrievitch," she said to him, "do explain to me, +please, what's the meaning of it. You know all about such +things. At home in our village of Kaluga all the peasants and +all the women have drunk up all they possessed, and now they +can't pay us any rent. What's the meaning of that? You always +praise the peasants so." + +At that instant another lady came into the room, and Levin got +up. + +"Excuse me, countess, but I really know nothing about it, and +can't tell you anything," he said, and looked round at the +officer who came in behind the lady. + +"That must be Vronsky," thought Levin, and, to be sure of it, +glanced at Kitty. She had already had time to look at Vronsky, +and looked round at Levin. And simply from the look in her eyes, +that grew unconsciously brighter, Levin knew that she loved that +man, knew it as surely as if she had told him so in words. But +what sort of a man was he? Now, whether for good or for ill, +Levin could not choose but remain; he must find out what the man +was like whom she loved. + +There are people who, on meeting a successful rival, no matter in +what, are at once disposed to turn their backs on everything good +in him, and to see only what is bad. There are people, on the +other hand, who desire above all to find in that lucky rival the +qualities by which he has outstripped them, and seek with a +throbbing ache at heart only what is good. Levin belonged to the +second class. But he had no difficulty in finding what was good +and attractive in Vronsky. It was apparent at the first glance. +Vronsky was a squarely built, dark man, not very tall, with a +good-humored, handsome, and exceedingly calm and resolute face. +Everything about his face and figure, from his short-cropped +black hair and freshly shaven chin down to his loosely fitting, +brand-new uniform, was simple and at the same time elegant. +Making way for the lady who had come in, Vronsky went up to the +princess and then to Kitty. + +As he approached her, his beautiful eyes shone with a specially +tender light, and with a faint, happy, and modestly triumphant +smile (so it seemed to Levin), bowing carefully and respectfully +over her, he held out his small broad hand to her. + +Greeting and saying a few words to everyone, he sat down without +once glancing at Levin, who had never taken his eyes off him. + +"Let me introduce you," said the princess, indicating Levin. +"Konstantin Dmitrievitch Levin, Count Alexey Kirillovitch +Vronsky." + +Vronsky got up and, looking cordially at Levin, shook hands with +him. + +"I believe I was to have dined with you this winter," he said, +smiling his simple and open smile; "but you had unexpectedly left +for the country." + +"Konstantin Dmitrievitch despises and hates town and us +townspeople," said Countess Nordston. + +"My words must make a deep impression on you, since you remember +them so well," said Levin, and, suddenly conscious that he had +said just the same thing before, he reddened. + +Vronsky looked at Levin and Countess Nordston, and smiled. + +"Are you always in the country?" he inquired. "I should think it +must be dull in the winter." + +"It's not dull if one has work to do; besides, one's not dull by +oneself," Levin replied abruptly. + +"I am fond of the country," said Vronsky, noticing, and affecting +not to notice, Levin's tone. + +"But I hope, count, you would not consent to live in the country +always," said Countess Nordston. + +"I don't know; I have never tried for long. I experienced a queer +feeling once," he went on. "I never longed so for the country, +Russian country, with bast shoes and peasants, as when I was +spending a winter with my mother in Nice. Nice itself is dull +enough, you know. And indeed, Naples and Sorrento are only +pleasant for a short time. And it's just there that Russia comes +back to me most vividly, and especially the country. It's as +though..." + +He talked on, addressing both Kitty and Levin, turning his +serene, friendly eyes from one to the other, and saying obviously +just what came into his head. + +Noticing that Countess Nordston wanted to say something, he +stopped short without finishing what he had begun, and listened +attentively to her. + +The conversation did not flag for an instant, so that the +princess, who always kept in reserve, in case a subject should be +lacking, two heavy guns--the relative advantages of classical +and of modern education, and universal military service--had not +to move out either of them, while Countess Nordston had not a +chance of chaffing Levin. + +Levin wanted to, and could not, take part in the general +conversation; saying to himself every instant, "Now go," he still +did not go, as though waiting for something. + +The conversation fell upon table-turning and spirits, and +Countess Nordston, who believed in spiritualism, began to +describe the marvels she had seen. + +"Ah, countess, you really must take me, for pity's sake do take +me to see them! I have never seen anything extraordinary, though +I am always on the lookout for it everywhere," said Vronsky, +smiling. + +"Very well, next Saturday," answered Countess Nordston. "But +you, Konstantin Dmitrievitch, do you believe in it?" she asked +Levin. + +"Why do you ask me? You know what I shall say." + +"But I want to hear your opinion." + +"My opinion," answered Levin, "is only that this table-turning +simply proves that educated society--so called--is no higher +than the peasants. They believe in the evil eye, and in +witchcraft and omens, while we..." + +"Oh, then you don't believe in it?" + +"I can't believe in it, countess." + +"But if I've seen it myself?" + +"The peasant women too tell us they have seen goblins." + +"Then you think I tell a lie?" + +And she laughed a mirthless laugh. + +"Oh, no, Masha, Konstantin Dmitrievitch said he could not believe +in it," said Kitty, blushing for Levin, and Levin saw this, and, +still more exasperated, would have answered, but Vronsky with his +bright frank smile rushed to the support of the conversation, +which was threatening to become disagreeable. + +"You do not admit the conceivability at all?" he queried. "But +why not? We admit the existence of electricity, of which we know +nothing. Why should there not be some new force, still unknown +to us, which..." + +"When electricity was discovered," Levin interrupted hurriedly, +"it was only the phenomenon that was discovered, and it was +unknown from what it proceeded and what were its effects, and +ages passed before its applications were conceived. But the +spiritualists have begun with tables writing for them, and +spirits appearing to them, and have only later started saying +that it is an unknown force." + +Vronsky listened attentively to Levin, as he always did listen, +obviously interested in his words. + +"Yes, but the spiritualists say we don't know at present what +this force is, but there is a force, and these are the conditions +in which it acts. Let the scientific men find out what the force +consists in. No, I don't see why there should not be a new +force, if it..." + +"Why, because with electricity," Levin interrupted again, "every +time you rub tar against wool, a recognized phenomenon is +manifested, but in this case it does not happen every time, and +so it follows it is not a natural phenomenon." + +Feeling probably that the conversation was taking a tone too +serious for a drawing room, Vronsky made no rejoinder, but by way +of trying to change the conversation, he smiled brightly, and +turned to the ladies. + +"Do let us try at once, countess," he said; but Levin would +finish saying what he thought. + +"I think," he went on, "that this attempt of the spiritualists to +explain their marvels as some sort of new natural force is most +futile. They boldly talk of spiritual force, and then try to +subject it to material experiment." + +Every one was waiting for him to finish, and he felt it. + +"And I think you would be a first-rate medium," said Countess +Nordston; "there's something enthusiastic in you." + +Levin opened his mouth, was about to say something, reddened, and +said nothing. + +"Do let us try table-turning at once, please," said Vronsky. +"Princess, will you allow it?" + +And Vronsky stood up, looking for a little table. + +Kitty got up to fetch a table, and as she passed, her eyes met +Levin's. She felt for him with her whole heart, the more because +she was pitying him for suffering of which she was herself the +cause. "If you can forgive me, forgive me," said her eyes, "I am +so happy." + +"I hate them all, and you, and myself," his eyes responded, and +he took up his hat. But he was not destined to escape. Just as +they were arranging themselves round the table, and Levin was on +the point of retiring, the old prince came in, and after greeting +the ladies, addressed Levin. + +"Ah!" he began joyously. "Been here long, my boy? I didn't even +know you were in town. Very glad to see you." The old prince +embraced Levin, and talking to him did not observe Vronsky, who +had risen, and was serenely waiting till the prince should turn +to him. + +Kitty felt how distasteful her father's warmth was to Levin after +what had happened. She saw, too, how coldly her father responded +at last to Vronsky's bow, and how Vronsky looked with amiable +perplexity at her father, as though trying and failing to +understand how and why anyone could be hostilely disposed towards +him, and she flushed. + +"Prince, let us have Konstantin Dmitrievitch," said Countess +Nordston; "we want to try an experiment." + +"What experiment? Table-turning? Well, you must excuse me, +ladies and gentlemen, but to my mind it is better fun to play the +ring game," said the old prince, looking at Vronsky, and guessing +that it had been his suggestion. "There's some sense in that, +anyway." + +Vronsky looked wonderingly at the prince with his resolute eyes, +and, with a faint smile, began immediately talking to Countess +Nordston of the great ball that was to come off next week. + +"I hope you will be there?" he said to Kitty. As soon as the old +prince turned away from him, Levin went out unnoticed, and the +last impression he carried away with him of that evening was the +smiling, happy face of Kitty answering Vronsky's inquiry about +the ball. + + + +Chapter 15 + + +At the end of the evening Kitty told her mother of her +conversation with Levin, and in spite of all the pity she felt +for Levin, she was glad at the thought that she had received an +_offer_. She had no doubt that she had acted rightly. But after +she had gone to bed, for a long while she could not sleep. One +impression pursued her relentlessly. It was Levin's face, with +his scowling brows, and his kind eyes looking out in dark +dejection below them, as he stood listening to her father, and +glancing at her and at Vronsky. And she felt so sorry for him +that tears came into her eyes. But immediately she thought of +the man for whom she had given him up. She vividly recalled his +manly, resolute face, his noble self-possession, and the +good nature conspicuous in everything towards everyone. She +remembered the love for her of the man she loved, and once more +all was gladness in her soul, and she lay on the pillow, smiling +with happiness. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry; but what could I do? +It's not my fault," she said to herself; but an inner voice told +her something else. Whether she felt remorse at having won +Levin's love, or at having refused him, she did not know. But +her happiness was poisoned by doubts. "Lord, have pity on us; +Lord, have pity on us; Lord, have pity on us!" she repeated to +herself, till she fell asleep. + +Meanwhile there took place below, in the prince's little library, +one of the scenes so often repeated between the parents on +account of their favorite daughter. + +"What? I'll tell you what!" shouted the prince, waving his arms, +and at once wrapping his squirrel-lined dressing-gown round him +again. "That you've no pride, no dignity; that you're +disgracing, ruining your daughter by this vulgar, stupid +match-making!" + +"But, really, for mercy's sake, prince, what have I done?" said +the princess, almost crying. + +She, pleased and happy after her conversation with her daughter, +had gone to the prince to say good-night as usual, and though +she had no intention of telling him of Levin's offer and Kitty's +refusal, still she hinted to her husband that she fancied things +were practically settled with Vronsky, and that he would declare +himself so soon as his mother arrived. And thereupon, at those +words, the prince had all at once flown into a passion, and began +to use unseemly language. + +"What have you done? I'll tell you what. First of all, you're +trying to catch an eligible gentleman, and all Moscow will be +talking of it, and with good reason. If you have evening +parties, invite everyone, don't pick out the possible suitors. +Invite all the young bucks. Engage a piano player, and let them +dance, and not as you do things nowadays, hunting up good +matches. It makes me sick, sick to see it, and you've gone on +till you've turned the poor wench's head. Levin's a thousand +times the better man. As for this little Petersburg swell, +they're turned out by machinery, all on one pattern, and all +precious rubbish. But if he were a prince of the blood, my +daughter need not run after anyone." + +"But what have I done?" + +"Why, you've..." The prince was crying wrathfully. + +"I know if one were to listen to you," interrupted the princess, +"we should never marry our daughter. If it's to be so, we'd +better go into the country." + +"Well, and we had better." + +"But do wait a minute. Do I try and catch them? I don't try to +catch them in the least. A young man, and a very nice one, has +fallen in love with her, and she, I fancy..." + +"Oh, yes, you fancy! And how if she really is in love, and he's +no more thinking of marriage than I am!... Oh, that I should +live to see it! Ah! spiritualism! Ah! Nice! Ah! the ball!" +And the prince, imagining that he was mimicking his wife, made a +mincing curtsey at each word. "And this is how we're preparing +wretchedness for Kitty; and she's really got the notion into her +head..." + +"But what makes you suppose so?" + +"I don't suppose; I know. We have eyes for such things, though +women-folk haven't. I see a man who has serious intentions, +that's Levin: and I see a peacock, like this feather-head, who's +only amusing himself." + +"Oh, well, when once you get an idea into your head!..." + +"Well, you'll remember my words, but too late, just as with +Dolly." + +"Well, well, we won't talk of it," the princess stopped him, +recollecting her unlucky Dolly. + +"By all means, and good night!" + +And signing each other with the cross, the husband and wife +parted with a kiss, feeling that they each remained of their own +opinion. + +The princess had at first been quite certain that that evening +had settled Kitty's future, and that there could be no doubt of +Vronsky's intentions, but her husband's words had disturbed her. +And returning to her own room, in terror before the unknown +future, she, too, like Kitty, repeated several times in her +heart, "Lord, have pity; Lord, have pity; Lord, have pity." + + + +Chapter 16 + + +Vronsky had never had a real home life. His mother had been in +her youth a brilliant society woman, who had had during her +married life, and still more afterwards, many love affairs +notorious in the whole fashionable world. His father he scarcely +remembered, and he had been educated in the Corps of Pages. + +Leaving the school very young as a brilliant officer, he had at +once got into the circle of wealthy Petersburg army men. +Although he did go more or less into Petersburg society, his love +affairs had always hitherto been outside it. + +In Moscow he had for the first time felt, after his luxurious and +coarse life at Petersburg, all the charm of intimacy with a sweet +and innocent girl of his own rank, who cared for him. It never +even entered his head that there could be any harm in his +relations with Kitty. At balls he danced principally with her. +He was a constant visitor at their house. He talked to her as +people commonly do talk in society--all sorts of nonsense, but +nonsense to which he could not help attaching a special meaning +in her case. Although he said nothing to her that he could not +have said before everybody, he felt that she was becoming more +and more dependent upon him, and the more he felt this, the +better he liked it, and the tenderer was his feeling for her. He +did not know that his mode of behavior in relation to Kitty had a +definite character, that it is courting young girls with no +intention of marriage, and that such courting is one of the evil +actions common among brilliant young men such as he was. It +seemed to him that he was the first who had discovered this +pleasure, and he was enjoying his discovery. + +If he could have heard what her parents were saying that evening, +if he could have put himself at the point ov view of the family +and have heard that Kitty would be unhappy if he did not marry +her, he would have been greatly astonished, and would not have +believed it. He could not believe that what gave such great and +delicate pleasure to him, and above all to her, could be wrong. +Still less could he have believed that he ought to marry. + +Marriage had never presented itself to him as a possibility. He +not only disliked family life, but a family, and especially a +husband was, in accordance with the views general in the bachelor +world in which he lived, conceived as something alien, repellant, +and, above all, ridiculous. + +But though Vronsky had not the least suspicion what the parents +were saying, he felt on coming away from the Shtcherbatskys' that +the secret spiritual bond which existed between him and Kitty had +grown so much stronger that evening that some step must be taken. +But what step could and ought to be taken he could not imagine. + +"What is so exquisite," he thought, as he returned from the +Shtcherbatskys', carrying away with him, as he always did, a +delicious feeling of purity and freshness, arising partly from +the fact that he had not been smoking for a whole evening, and +with it a new feeling of tenderness at her love for him--"what +is so exquisite is that not a word has been said by me or by her, +but we understand each other so well in this unseen language of +looks and tones, that this evening more clearly than ever she +told me she loves me. And how secretly, simply, and most of all, +how trustfully! I feel myself better, purer. I feel that I have +a heart, and that there is a great deal of good in me. Those +sweet, loving eyes! When she said: Indeed I do...' + +"Well, what then? Oh, nothing. It's good for me, and good for +her." And he began wondering where to finish the evening. + +He passed in review of the places he might go to. "Club? a game +of bezique, champagne with Ignatov? No, I'm not going. _Chateau +des Fleurs_; there I shall find Oblonsky, songs, the cancan. No, +I'm sick of it. That's why I like the Shtcherbatskys', that I'm +growing better. I'll go home." He went straight to his room at +Dussot's Hotel, ordered supper, and then undressed, and as soon +as his head touched the pillow, fell into a sound sleep. + + + +Chapter 17 + + +Next day at eleven o'clock in the morning Vronsky drove to the +station of the Petersburg railway to meet his mother, and the +first person he came across on the great flight of steps was +Oblonsky, who was expecting his sister by the same train. + +"Ah! your excellency!" cried Oblonsky, "whom are you meeting?" + +"My mother," Vronsky responded, smiling, as everyone did who met +Oblonsky. He shook hands with him, and together they ascended +the steps. "She is to be here from Petersburg today." + +"I was looking out for you till two o'clock last night. Where +did you go after the Shtcherbatskys'?" + +"Home," answered Vronsky. "I must own I felt so well content +yesterday after the Shtcherbatskys' that I didn't care to go +anywhere." + + "I know a gallant steed by tokens sure, + And by his eyes I know a youth in love," + +declaimed Stepan Arkadyevitch, just as he had done before to +Levin. + +Vronsky smiled with a look that seemed to say that he did not +deny it, but he promptly changed the subject. + +"And whom are you meeting?" he asked. + +"I? I've come to meet a pretty woman," said Oblonsky. + +"You don't say so!" + +"_Honi soit qui mal y pense!_ My sister Anna." + +"Ah! that's Madame Karenina," said Vronsky. + +"You know her, no doubt?" + +"I think I do. Or perhaps not...I really am not sure," Vronsky +answered heedlessly, with a vague recollection of something stiff +and tedious evoked by the name Karenina. + +"But Alexey Alexandrovitch, my celebrated brother-in-law, you +surely must know. All the world knows him." + +"I know him by reputation and by sight. I know that he's clever, +learned, religious somewhat.... But you know that's not..._not +in my line,_" said Vronsky in English. + +"Yes, he's a very remarkable man; rather a conservative, but a +splendid man," observed Stepan Arkadyevitch, "a splendid man." + +"Oh, well, so much the better for him," said Vronsky smiling. +"Oh, you've come," he said, addressing a tall old footman of his +mother's, standing at the door; "come here." + +Besides the charm Oblonsky had in general for everyone, Vronsky +had felt of late specially drawn to him by the fact that in his +imagination he was associated with Kitty. + +"Well, what do you say? Shall we give a supper on Sunday for the +_diva?_" he said to him with a smile, taking his arm. + +"Of course. I'm collecting subscriptions. Oh, did you make the +acquaintance of my friend Levin?" asked Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +"Yes; but he left rather early." + +"He's a capital fellow," pursued Oblonsky. "Isn't he?" + +"I don't know why it is," responded Vronsky, "in all Moscow +people--present company of course excepted," he put in +jestingly, "there's something uncompromising. They are all on +the defensive, lose their tempers, as though they all want to +make one feel something..." + +"Yes, that's true, it is so," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, laughing +good-humoredly. + +"Will the train soon be in?" Vronsky asked a railway official. + +"The train's signaled," answered the man. + +The approach of the train was more and more evident by the +preparatory bustle in the station, the rush of porters, the +movement of policemen and attendants, and people meeting the +train. Through the frosty vapor could be seen workmen in short +sheepskins and soft felt boots crossing the rails of the curving +line. The hiss of the boiler could be heard on the distant +rails, and the rumble of something heavy. + +"No," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, who felt a great inclination to +tell Vronsky of Levin's intentions in regard to Kitty. "No, +you've not got a true impression of Levin. He's a very nervous +man, and is sometimes out of humor, it's true, but then he is +often very nice. He's such a true, honest nature, and a heart of +gold. But yesterday there were special reasons," pursued Stepan +Arkadyevitch, with a meaning smile, totally oblivious of the +genuine sympathy he had felt the day before for his friend, and +feeling the same sympathy now, only for Vronsky. "Yes, there +were reasons why he could not help being either particularly +happy or particularly unhappy." + +Vronsky stood still and asked directly: "How so? Do you mean he +made your _belle-soeur_ an offer yesterday?" + +"Maybe," said Stepan Arkadyevitch. "I fancied something of the +sort yesterday. Yes, if he went away early, and was out of humor +too, it must mean it.... He's been so long in love, and I'm very +sorry for him." + +"So that's it! I should imagine, though, she might reckon on a +better match," said Vronsky, drawing himself up and walking about +again, "though I don't know him, of course," he added. "Yes, +that is a hateful position! That's why most fellows prefer to +have to do with Klaras. If you don't succeed with them it only +proves that you've not enough cash, but in this case one's +dignity's at stake. But here's the train." + +The engine had already whistled in the distance. A few instants +later the platform was quivering, and with puffs of steam hanging +low in the air from the frost, the engine rolled up, with the +lever of the middle wheel rhythmically moving up and down, and +the stooping figure of the engine-driver covered with frost. +Behind the tender, setting the platform more and more slowly +swaying, came the luggage van with a dog whining in it. At last +the passenger carriages rolled in, oscillating before coming to a +standstill. + +A smart guard jumped out, giving a whistle, and after him one by +one the impatient passengers began to get down: an officer of +the guards, holding himself erect, and looking severely about +him; a nimble little merchant with a satchel, smiling gaily; a +peasant with a sack over his shoulder. + +Vronsky, standing beside Oblonsky, watched the carriages and the +passengers, totally oblivious of his mother. What he had just +heard about Kitty excited and delighted him. Unconsciously he +arched his chest, and his eyes flashed. He felt himself a +conqueror. + +"Countess Vronskaya is in that compartment," said the smart +guard, going up to Vronsky. + +The guard's words roused him, and forced him to think of his +mother and his approaching meeting with her. He did not in his +heart respect his mother, and without acknowledging it to +himself, he did not love her, though in accordance with the +ideas of the set in which he lived, and with his own education, +he could not have conceived of any behavior to his mother not in +the highest degree respectful and obedient, and the more +externally obedient and respectful his behavior, the less in his +heart he respected and loved her. + + + +Chapter 18 + + +Vronsky followed the guard to the carriage, and at the door of +the compartment he stopped short to make room for a lady who was +getting out. + +With the insight of a man of the world, from one glance at this +lady's appearance Vronsky classified her as belonging to the best +society. He begged pardon, and was getting into the carriage, +but felt he must glance at her once more; not that she was very +beautiful, not on account of the elegance and modest grace which +were apparent in her whole figure, but because in the expression +of her charming face, as she passed close by him, there was +something peculiarly caressing and soft. As he looked round, she +too turned her head. Her shining gray eyes, that looked dark +from the thick lashes, rested with friendly attention on his +face, as though she were recognizing him, and then promptly +turned away to the passing crowd, as though seeking someone. In +that brief look Vronsky had time to notice the suppressed +eagerness which played over her face, and flitted between the +brilliant eyes and the faint smile that curved her red lips. It +was as though her nature were so brimming over with something +that against her will it showed itself now in the flash of her +eyes, and now in her smile. Deliberately she shrouded the light +in her eyes, but it shone against her will in the faintly +perceptible smile. + +Vronsky stepped into the carriage. His mother, a dried-up old +lady with black eyes and ringlets, screwed up her eyes, scanning +her son, and smiled slightly with her thin lips. Getting up from +the seat and handing her maid a bag, she gave her little wrinkled +hand to her son to kiss, and lifting his head from her hand, +kissed him on the cheek. + +"You got my telegram? Quite well? Thank God." + +"You had a good journey?" said her son, sitting down beside her, +and involuntarily listening to a woman's voice outside the door. +He knew it was the voice of the lady he had met at the door. + +"All the same I don't agree with you," said the lady's voice. + +"It's the Petersburg view, madame." + +"Not Petersburg, but simply feminine," she responded. + +"Well, well, allow me to kiss your hand." + +"Good-bye, Ivan Petrovitch. And could you see if my brother is +here, and send him to me?" said the lady in the doorway, and +stepped back again into the compartment. + +"Well, have you found your brother?" said Countess Vronskaya, +addressing the lady. + +Vronsky understood now that this was Madame Karenina. + +"Your brother is here," he said, standing up. "Excuse me, I did +not know you, and, indeed, our acquaintance was so slight," said +Vronsky, bowing, "that no doubt you do not remember me." + +"Oh, no," said she, "I should have known you because your mother +and I have been talking, I think, of nothing but you all the +way." As she spoke she let the eagerness that would insist on +coming out show itself in her smile. "And still no sign of my +brother." + +"Do call him, Alexey," said the old countess. Vronsky stepped +out onto the platform and shouted: + +"Oblonsky! Here!" + +Madame Karenina, however, did not wait for her brother, but +catching sight of him she stepped out with her light, resolute +step. And as soon as her brother had reached her, with a gesture +that struck Vronsky by its decision and its grace, she flung her +left arm around his neck, drew him rapidly to her, and kissed him +warmly. Vronsky gazed, never taking his eyes from her, and +smiled, he could not have said why. But recollecting that his +mother was waiting for him, he went back again into the carriage. + +"She's very sweet, isn't she?" said the countess of Madame +Karenina. "Her husband put her with me, and I was delighted to +have her. We've been talking all the way. And so you, I +hear..._vous filez le parfait amour. Tant mieux, mon cher, tant +mieux._" + +"I don't know what you are referring to, maman," he answered +coldly. "Come, maman, let us go." + +Madame Karenina entered the carriage again to say good-bye to the +countess. + +"Well, countess, you have met your son, and I my brother," she +said. "And all my gossip is exhausted. I should have nothing +more to tell you." + +"Oh, no," said the countess, taking her hand. "I could go all +around the world with you and never be dull. You are one of +those delightful women in whose company it's sweet to be silent +as well as to talk. Now please don't fret over your son; you +can't expect never to be parted." + +Madame Karenina stood quite still, holding herself very erect, +and her eyes were smiling. + +"Anna Arkadyevna," the countess said in explanation to her son, +"has a little son eight years old, I believe, and she has never +been parted from him before, and she keeps fretting over leaving +him." + +"Yes, the countess and I have been talking all the time, I of my +son and she of hers," said Madame Karenina, and again a smile +lighted up her face, a caressing smile intended for him. + +"I am afraid that you must have been dreadfully bored," he said, +promptly catching the ball of coquetry she had flung him. But +apparently she did not care to pursue the conversation in that +strain, and she turned to the old countess. + +"Thank you so much. The time has passed so quickly. Good-bye, +countess." + +"Good-bye, my love," answered the countess. "Let me have a kiss +of your pretty face. I speak plainly, at my age, and I tell you +simply that I've lost my heart to you." + +Stereotyped as the phrase was, Madame Karenina obviously believed +it and was delighted by it. She flushed, bent down slightly, and +put her cheek to the countess's lips, drew herself up again, and +with the same smile fluttering between her lips and her eyes, she +gave her hand to Vronsky. He pressed the little hand she gave +him, and was delighted, as though at something special, by the +energetic squeeze with which she freely and vigorously shook his +hand. She went out with the rapid step which bore her rather +fully-developed figure with such strange lightness. + +"Very charming," said the countess. + +That was just what her son was thinking. His eyes followed her +till her graceful figure was out of sight, and then the smile +remained on his face. He saw out of the window how she went up +to her brother, put her arm in his, and began telling him +something eagerly, obviously something that had nothing to do +with him, Vronsky, and at that he felt annoyed. + +"Well, maman, are you perfectly well?" he repeated, turning to +his mother. + +"Everything has been delightful. Alexander has been very good, +and Marie has grown very pretty. She's very interesting." + +And she began telling him again of what interested her most--the +christening of her grandson, for which she had been staying in +Petersburg, and the special favor shown her elder son by the +Tsar. + +"Here's Lavrenty," said Vronsky, looking out of the window; "now +we can go, if you like." + +The old butler who had traveled with the countess, came to the +carriage to announce that everything was ready, and the countess +got up to go. + +"Come; there's not such a crowd now," said Vronsky. + +The maid took a handbag and the lap dog, the butler and a porter +the other baggage. Vronsky gave his mother his arm; but just as +they were getting out of the carriage several men ran suddenly by +with panic-stricken faces. The station-master, too, ran by in +his extraordinary colored cap. Obviously something unusual had +happened. The crowd who had left the train were running back +again. + +"What?... What?... Where?... Flung himself!... Crushed!..." +was heard among the crowd. Stepan Arkadyevitch, with his sister +on his arm, turned back. They too looked scared, and stopped at +the carriage door to avoid the crowd. + +The ladies got in, while Vronsky and Stepan Arkadyevitch followed +the crowd to find out details of the disaster. + +A guard, either drunk or too much muffled up in the bitter frost, +had not heard the train moving back, and had been crushed. + +Before Vronsky and Oblonsky came back the ladies heard the facts +from the butler. + +Oblonsky and Vronsky had both seen the mutilated corpse. +Oblonsky was evidently upset. He frowned and seemed ready to +cry. + +"Ah, how awful! Ah, Anna, if you had seen it! Ah, how awful!" +he said. + +Vronsky did not speak; his handsome face was serious, but +perfectly composed. + +"Oh, if you had seen it, countess," said Stepan Arkadyevitch. +"And his wife was there.... It was awful to see her!.... She +flung herself on the body. They say he was the only support of +an immense family. How awful!" + +"Couldn't one do anything for her?" said Madame Karenina in an +agitated whisper. + +Vronsky glanced at her, and immediately got out of the carriage. + +"I'll be back directly, maman," he remarked, turning round in the +doorway. + +When he came back a few minutes later, Stepan Arkadyevitch was +already in conversation with the countess about the new singer, +while the countess was impatiently looking towards the door, +waiting for her son. + +"Now let us be off," said Vronsky, coming in. They went out +together. Vronsky was in front with his mother. Behind walked +Madame Karenina with her brother. Just as they were going out of +the station the station-master overtook Vronsky. + +"You gave my assistant two hundred roubles. Would you kindly +explain for whose benefit you intend them?" + +"For the widow," said Vronsky, shrugging his shoulders. "I +should have thought there was no need to ask." + +"You gave that?" cried Oblonsky, behind, and, pressing his +sister's hand, he added: "Very nice, very nice! Isn't he a +splendid fellow? Good-bye, countess." + +And he and his sister stood still, looking for her maid. + +When they went out the Vronsky's carriage had already driven +away. People coming in were still talking of what happened. + +"What a horrible death!" said a gentleman, passing by. "They say +he was cut in two pieces." + +"On the contrary, I think it's the easiest--instantaneous," +observed another. + +"How is it they don't take proper precautions?" said a third. + +Madame Karenina seated herself in the carriage, and Stepan +Arkadyevitch saw with surprise that her lips were quivering, and +she was with difficulty restraining her tears. + +"What is it, Anna?" he asked, when they had driven a few hundred +yards. + +"It's an omen of evil," she said. + +"What nonsense!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch. "You've come, that's +the chief thing. You can't conceive how I'm resting my hopes on +you." + +"Have you known Vronsky long?" she asked. + +"Yes. You know we're hoping he will marry Kitty." + +"Yes?" said Anna softly. "Come now, let us talk of you," she +added, tossing her head, as though she would physically shake off +something superfluous oppressing her. "Let us talk of your +affairs. I got your letter, and here I am." + +"Yes, all my hopes are in you," said Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +"Well, tell me all about it." + +And Stepan Arkadyevitch began to tell his story. + +On reaching home Oblonsky helped his sister out, sighed, pressed +her hand, and set off to his office. + + + +Chapter 19 + + +When Anna went into the room, Dolly was sitting in the little +drawing-room with a white-headed fat little boy, already like his +father, giving him a lesson in French reading. As the boy read, +he kept twisting and trying to tear off a button that was nearly +off his jacket. His mother had several times taken his hand from +it, but the fat little hand went back to the button again. His +mother pulled the button off and put it in her pocket. + +"Keep your hands still, Grisha," she said, and she took up her +work, a coverlet she had long been making. She always set to +work on it at depressed moments, and now she knitted at it +nervously, twitching her fingers and counting the stitches. +Though she had sent word the day before to her husband that it +was nothing to her whether his sister came or not, she had made +everything ready for her arrival, and was expecting her +sister-in-law with emotion. + +Dolly was crushed by her sorrow, utterly swallowed up by it. +Still she did not forget that Anna, her sister-in-law, was the +wife of one of the most important personages in Petersburg, and +was a Petersburg _grande dame_. And, thanks to this circumstance, +she did not carry out her threat to her husband--that is to say, +she remembered that her sister-in-law was coming. "And, after +all, Anna is in no wise to blame," thought Dolly. "I know +nothing of her except the very best, and I have seen nothing but +kindness and affection from her towards myself." It was true +that as far as she could recall her impressions at Petersburg at +the Karenins', she did not like their household itself; there was +something artificial in the whole framework of their family life. +"But why should I not receive her? If only she doesn't take it +into her head to console me!" thought Dolly. "All consolation +and counsel and Christian forgiveness, all that I have thought +over a thousand times, and it's all no use." + +All these days Dolly had been alone with her children. She did +not want to talk of her sorrow, but with that sorrow in her heart +she could not talk of outside matters. She knew that in one way +or another she would tell Anna everything, and she was +alternately glad at the thought of speaking freely, and angry at +the necessity of speaking of her humiliation with her, his +sister, and of hearing her ready-made phrases of good advice and +comfort. She had been on the lookout for her, glancing at her +watch every minute, and, as so often happens, let slip just that +minute when her visitor arrived, so that she did not hear the +bell. + +Catching a sound of skirts and light steps at the door, she +looked round, and her care-worn face unconsciously expressed not +gladness, but wonder. She got up and embraced her sister-in-law. + +"What, here already!" she said as she kissed her. + +"Dolly, how glad I am to see you!" + +"I am glad, too," said Dolly, faintly smiling, and trying by the +expression of Anna's face to find out whether she knew. "Most +likely she knows," she thought, noticing the sympathy in Anna's +face. "Well, come along, I'll take you to your room," she went +on, trying to defer as long as possible the moment of +confidences. + +"Is this Grisha? Heavens, how he's grown!" said Anna; and +kissing him, never taking her eyes off Dolly, she stood still and +flushed a little. "No, please, let us stay here." + +She took off her kerchief and her hat, and catching it in a lock +of her black hair, which was a mass of curls, she tossed her head +and shook her hair down. + +"You are radiant with health and happiness!" said Dolly, almost +with envy. + +"I?.... Yes," said Anna. "Merciful heavens, Tanya! You're the +same age as my Seryozha," she added, addressing the little girl +as she ran in. She took her in her arms and kissed her. +"Delightful child, delightful! Show me them all." + +She mentioned them, not only remembering the names, but the +years, months, characters, illnesses of all the children, and +Dolly could not but appreciate that. + +"Very well, we will go to them," she said. "It's a pity Vassya's +asleep." + +After seeing the children, they sat down, alone now, in the +drawing room, to coffee. Anna took the tray, and then pushed it +away from her. + +"Dolly," she said, "he has told me." + +Dolly looked coldly at Anna; she was waiting now for phrases of +conventional sympathy, but Anna said nothing of the sort. + +"Dolly, dear," she said, "I don't want to speak for him to you, +nor to try to comfort you; that's impossible. But, darling, I'm +simply sorry, sorry from my heart for you!" + +Under the thick lashes of her shining eyes tears suddenly +glittered. She moved nearer to her sister-in-law and took her +hand in her vigorous little hand. Dolly did not shrink away, but +her face did not lose its frigid expression. She said: + +"To comfort me's impossible. Everything's lost after what has +happened, everything's over!" + +And directly she had said this, her face suddenly softened. Anna +lifted the wasted, thin hand of Dolly, kissed it and said: + +"But, Dolly, what's to be done, what's to be done? How is it +best to act in this awful position--that's what you must think +of." + +"All's over, and there's nothing more," said Dolly. "And the +worst of all is, you see, that I can't cast him off: there are +the children, I am tied. And I can't live with him! it's a +torture to me to see him." + +"Dolly, darling, he has spoken to me, but I want to hear it from +you: tell me about it." + +Dolly looked at her inquiringly. + +Sympathy and love unfeigned were visible on Anna's face. + +"Very well," she said all at once. "But I will tell you it from +the beginning. You know how I was married. With the education +mamma gave us I was more than innocent, I was stupid. I knew +nothing. I know they say men tell their wives of their former +lives, but Stiva"--she corrected herself--"Stepan Arkadyevitch +told me nothing. You'll hardly believe it, but till now I +imagined that I was the only woman he had known. So I lived +eight years. You must understand that I was so far from +suspecting infidelity, I regarded it as impossible, and then-- +try to imagine it--with such ideas, to find out suddenly all the +horror, all the loathsomeness.... You must try and understand +me. To be fully convinced of one's happiness, and all at +once..." continued Dolly, holding back her sobs, "to get a +letter...his letter to his mistress, my governess. No, it's too +awful!" She hastily pulled out her handkerchief and hid her face +in it. "I can understand being carried away by feeling," she +went on after a brief silence, "but deliberately, slyly deceiving +me...and with whom?... To go on being my husband together with +her...it's awful! You can't understand..." + +"Oh, yes, I understand! I understand! Dolly, dearest, I do +understand," said Anna, pressing her hand. + +"And do you imagine he realizes all the awfulness of my +position?" Dolly resumed. "Not the slightest! He's happy and +contented." + +"Oh, no!" Anna interposed quickly. "He's to be pitied, he's +weighed down by remorse..." + +"Is he capable of remorse?" Dolly interrupted, gazing intently +into her sister-in-law's face. + +"Yes. I know him. I could not look at him without feeling sorry +for him. We both know him. He's good-hearted, but he's proud, +and now he's so humiliated. What touched me most..." (and here +Anna guessed what would touch Dolly most) "he's tortured by two +things: that he's ashamed for the children's sake, and that, +loving you--yes, yes, loving you beyond everything on earth," +she hurriedly interrupted Dolly, who would have answered--"he +has hurt you, pierced you to the heart. 'No, no, she cannot +forgive me,' he keeps saying." + +Dolly looked dreamily away beyond her sister-in-law as she +listened to her words. + +"Yes, I can see that his position is awful; it's worse for the +guilty than the innocent," she said, "if he feels that all the +misery comes from his fault. But how am I to forgive him, how am +I to be his wife again after her? For me to live with him now +would be torture, just because I love my past love for him..." + +And sobs cut short her words. But as though of set design, each +time she was softened she began to speak again of what +exasperated her. + +"She's young, you see, she's pretty," she went on. "Do you know, +Anna, my youth and my beauty are gone, taken by whom? By him and +his children. I have worked for him, and all I had has gone in +his service, and now of course any fresh, vulgar creature has +more charm for him. No doubt they talked of me together, or, +worse still, they were silent. Do you understand?" + +Again her eyes glowed with hatred. + +"And after that he will tell me.... What! can I believe him? +Never! No, everything is over, everything that once made my +comfort, the reward of my work, and my sufferings.... Would you +believe it, I was teaching Grisha just now: once this was a joy +to me, now it is a torture. What have I to strive and toil for? +Why are the children here? What's so awful is that all at once +my heart's turned, and instead of love and tenderness, I have +nothing but hatred for him; yes, hatred. I could kill him." + +"Darling Dolly, I understand, but don't torture yourself. You +are so distressed, so overwrought, that you look at many things +mistakenly." + +Dolly grew calmer, and for two minutes both were silent. + +"What's to be done? Think for me, Anna, help me. I have thought +over everything, and I see nothing." + +Anna could think of nothing, but her heart responded instantly to +each word, to each change of expression of her sister-in-law. + +"One thing I would say," began Anna. "I am his sister, I know +his character, that faculty of forgetting everything, everything" +(she waved her hand before her forehead), "that faculty for being +completely carried away, but for completely repenting too. He +cannot believe it, he cannot comprehend now how he can have acted +as he did." + +"No; he understands, he understood!" Dolly broke in. "But +I...you are forgetting me...does it make it easier for me?" + +"Wait a minute. When he told me, I will own I did not realize +all the awfulness of your position. I saw nothing but him, and +that the family was broken up. I felt sorry for him, but after +talking to you, I see it, as a woman, quite differently. I see +your agony, and I can't tell you how sorry I am for you! But, +Dolly, darling, I fully realize your sufferings, only there is +one thing I don't know; I don't know...I don't know how much love +there is still in your heart for him. That you know--whether +there is enough for you to be able to forgive him. If there is, +forgive him!" + +"No," Dolly was beginning, but Anna cut her short, kissing her +hand once more. + +"I know more of the world than you do," she said. "I know how +men like Stiva look at it. You speak of his talking of you with +her. That never happened. Such men are unfaithful, but their +home and wife are sacred to them. Somehow or other these women +are still looked on with contempt by them, and do not touch on +their feeling for their family. They draw a sort of line that +can't be crossed between them and their families. I don't +understand it, but it is so." + +"Yes, but he has kissed her..." + +"Dolly, hush, darling. I saw Stiva when he was in love with you. +I remember the time when he came to me and cried, talking of you, +and all the poetry and loftiness of his feeling for you, and I +know that the longer he has lived with you the loftier you have +been in his eyes. You know we have sometimes laughed at him for +putting in at every word: 'Dolly's a marvelous woman.' You have +always been a divinity for him, and you are that still, and this +has not been an infidelity of the heart..." + +"But if it is repeated?" + +"It cannot be, as I understand it..." + +"Yes, but could you forgive it?" + +"I don't know, I can't judge.... Yes, I can," said Anna, +thinking a moment; and grasping the position in her thought and +weighing it in her inner balance, she added: "Yes, I can, I can, +I can. Yes, I could forgive it. I could not be the same, no; +but I could forgive it, and forgive it as though it had never +been, never been at all..." + +"Oh, of course," Dolly interposed quickly, as though saying what +she had more than once thought, "else it would not be +forgiveness. If one forgives, it must be completely, completely. +Come, let us go; I'll take you to your room," she said, getting +up, and on the way she embraced Anna. "My dear, how glad I am +you came. It has made things better, ever so much better." + + + +Chapter 20 + + +The whole of that day Anna spent at home, that's to say at the +Oblonskys', and received no one, though some of her acquaintances +had already heard of her arrival, and came to call; the same day. +Anna spent the whole morning with Dolly and the children. She +merely sent a brief note to her brother to tell him that he must +not fail to dine at home. "Come, God is merciful," she wrote. + +Oblonsky did dine at home: the conversation was general, and his +wife, speaking to him, addressed him as "Stiva," as she had not +done before. In the relations of the husband and wife the same +estrangement still remained, but there was no talk now of +separation, and Stepan Arkadyevitch saw the possibility of +explanation and reconciliation. + +Immediately after dinner Kitty came in. She knew Anna +Arkadyevna, but only very slightly, and she came now to her +sister's with some trepidation, at the prospect of meeting this +fashionable Petersburg lady, whom everyone spoke so highly of. +But she made a favorable impression on Anna Arkadyevna--she saw +that at once. Anna was unmistakably admiring her loveliness and +her youth: before Kitty knew where she was she found herself not +merely under Anna's sway, but in love with her, as young girls do +fall in love with older and married women. Anna was not like a +fashionable lady, nor the mother of a boy of eight years old. In +the elasticity of her movements, the freshness and the unflagging +eagerness which persisted in her face, and broke out in her smile +and her glance, she would rather have passed for a girl of +twenty, had it not been for a serious and at times mournful look +in her eyes, which struck and attracted Kitty. Kitty felt that +Anna was perfectly simple and was concealing nothing, but that +she had another higher world of interests inaccessible to her, +complex and poetic. + +After dinner, when Dolly went away to her own room, Anna rose +quickly and went up to her brother, who was just lighting a +cigar. + +"Stiva," she said to him, winking gaily, crossing him and +glancing towards the door, "go, and God help you." + +He threw down the cigar, understanding her, and departed through +the doorway. + +When Stepan Arkadyevitch had disappeared, she went back to the +sofa where she had been sitting, surrounded by the children. +Either because the children saw that their mother was fond of +this aunt, or that they felt a special charm in her themselves, +the two elder ones, and the younger following their lead, as +children so often do, had clung about their new aunt since +before dinner, and would not leave her side. And it had become a +sort of game among them to sit a close as possible to their aunt, +to touch her, hold her little hand, kiss it, play with her ring, +or even touch the flounce of her skirt. + +"Come, come, as we were sitting before," said Anna Arkadyevna, +sitting down in her place. + +And again Grisha poked his little face under her arm, and nestled +with his head on her gown, beaming with pride and happiness. + +"And when is your next ball?" she asked Kitty. + +"Next week, and a splendid ball. One of those balls where one +always enjoys oneself." + +"Why, are there balls where one always enjoys oneself?" Anna +said, with tender irony. + +"It's strange, but there are. At the Bobrishtchevs' one always +enjoys oneself, and at the Nikitins' too, while at the Mezhkovs' +it's always dull. Haven't you noticed it?" + +"No, my dear, for me there are no balls now where one enjoys +oneself," said Anna, and Kitty detected in her eyes that +mysterious world which was not open to her. "For me there are +some less dull and tiresome." + +"How can _you_ be dull at a ball?" + +"Why should not _I_ be dull at a ball?" inquired Anna. + +Kitty perceived that Anna knew what answer would follow. + +"Because you always look nicer than anyone." + +Anna had the faculty of blushing. She blushed a little, and +said: + +"In the first place it's never so; and secondly, if it were, what +difference would it make to me?" + +"Are you coming to this ball?" asked Kitty. + +"I imagine it won't be possible to avoid going. Here, take it," +she said to Tanya, who was pulling the loosely-fitting ring off +her white, slender-tipped finger. + +"I shall be so glad if you go. I should so like to see you at a +ball." + +"Anyway, if I do go, I shall comfort myself with the thought that +it's a pleasure to you...Grisha, don't pull my hair. It's untidy +enough without that," she said, putting up a straying lock, which +Grisha had been playing with. + +"I imagine you at the ball in lilac." + +"And why in lilac precisely?" asked Anna, smiling. "Now, +children, run along, run along. Do you hear? Miss Hoole is +calling you to tea," she said, tearing the children from her, and +sending them off to the dining room. + +"I know why you press me to come to the ball. You expect a great +deal of this ball, and you want everyone to be there to take part +in it." + +"How do you know? Yes." + +"Oh! what a happy time you are at," pursued Anna. "I remember, +and I know that blue haze like the mist on the mountains in +Switzerland. That mist which covers everything in that blissful +time when childhood is just ending, and out of that vast circle, +happy and gay, there is a path growing narrower and narrower, and +it is delightful and alarming to enter the ballroom, bright and +splendid as it is.... Who has not been through it?" + +Kitty smiled without speaking. "But how did she go through it? +How I should like to know all her love story!" thought Kitty, +recalling the unromantic appearance of Alexey Alexandrovitch, her +husband. + +"I know something. Stiva told me, and I congratulate you. I +liked him so much," Anna continued. "I met Vronsky at the +railway station." + +"Oh, was he there?" asked Kitty, blushing. "What was it Stiva +told you?" + +"Stiva gossiped about it all. And I should be so glad...I +traveled yesterday with Vronsky's mother," she went on; "and his +mother talked without a pause of him, he's her favorite. I know +mothers are partial, but..." + +"What did his mother tell you?" + +"Oh, a great deal! And I know that he's her favorite; still one +can see how chivalrous he is.... Well, for instance, she told me +that he had wanted to give up all his property to his brother, +that he had done something extraordinary when he was quite a +child, saved a woman out of the water. He's a hero, in fact," +said Anna, smiling and recollecting the two hundred roubles he +had given at the station. + +But she did not tell Kitty about the two hundred roubles. For +some reason it was disagreeable to her to think of it. She felt +that there was something that had to do with her in it, and +something that ought not to have been. + +"She pressed me very much to go and see her," Anna went on; "and +I shall be glad to go to see her tomorrow. Stiva is staying a +long while in Dolly's room, thank God," Anna added, changing the +subject, and getting up, Kitty fancied, displeased with +something. + +"No, I'm first! No, I!" screamed the children, who had finished +tea, running up to their Aunt Anna. + +"All together," said Anna, and she ran laughing to meet them, and +embraced and swung round all the throng of swarming children, +shrieking with delight. + + + +Chapter 21 + + +Dolly came out of her room to the tea of the grown-up people. +Stepan Arkadyevitch did not come out. He must have left his +wife's room by the other door. + +"I am afraid you'll be cold upstairs," observed Dolly, addressing +Anna; "I want to move you downstairs, and we shall be nearer." + +"Oh, please, don't trouble about me," answered Anna, looking +intently into Dolly's face, trying to make out whether there had +been a reconciliation or not. + +"It will be lighter for you here," answered her sister-in-law. + +"I assure you that I sleep everywhere, and always like a marmot." + +"What's the question?" inquired Stepan Arkadyevitch, coming out +of his room and addressing his wife. + +From his tone both Kitty and Anna knew that a reconciliation had +taken place. + +"I want to move Anna downstairs, but we must hang up blinds. No +one knows how to do it; I must see to it myself," answered Dolly +addressing him. + +"God knows whether they are fully reconciled," thought Anna, +hearing her tone, cold and composed. + +"Oh, nonsense, Dolly, always making difficulties," answered her +husband. "Come, I'll do it all, if you like..." + +"Yes, they must be reconciled," thought Anna. + +"I know how you do everything," answered Dolly. "You tell Matvey +to do what can't be done, and go away yourself, leaving him to +make a muddle of everything," and her habitual, mocking smile +curved the corners of Dolly's lips as she spoke. + +"Full, full reconciliation, full," thought Anna; "thank God!" and +rejoicing that she was the cause of it, she went up to Dolly and +kissed her. + +"Not at all. Why do you always look down on me and Matvey?" said +Stepan Arkadyevitch, smiling hardly perceptibly, and addressing +his wife. + +The whole evening Dolly was, as always, a little mocking in her +tone to her husband, while Stepan Arkadyevitch was happy and +cheerful, but not so as to seem as though, having been forgiven, +he had forgotten his offense. + +At half-past nine o'clock a particularly joyful and pleasant +family conversation over the tea-table at the Oblonskys' was +broken up by an apparently simple incident. But this simple +incident for some reason struck everyone as strange. Talking +about common acquaintances in Petersburg, Anna got up quickly. + +"She is in my album," she said; "and, by the way, I'll show you +my Seryozha," she added, with a mother's smile of pride. + +Towards ten o'clock, when she usually said good-night to her son, +and often before going to a ball put him to bed herself, she felt +depressed at being so far from him; and whatever she was talking +about, she kept coming back in thought to her curly-headed +Seryozha. She longed to look at his photograph and talk of him. +Seizing the first pretext, she got up, and with her light, +resolute step went for her album. The stairs up to her room came +out on the landing of the great warm main staircase. + +Just as she was leaving the drawing room, a ring was heard in the +hall. + +"Who can that be?" said Dolly. + +"It's early for me to be fetched, and for anyone else it's late," +observed Kitty. + +"Sure to be someone with papers for me," put in Stepan +Arkadyevitch. When Anna was passing the top of the staircase, a +servant was running up to announce the visitor, while the visitor +himself was standing under a lamp. Anna glancing down at once +recognized Vronsky, and a strange feeling of pleasure and at the +same time of dread of something stirred in her heart. He was +standing still, not taking off his coat, pulling something out of +his pocket. At the instant when she was just facing the stairs, +he raised his eyes, caught sight of her, and into the expression +of his face there passed a shade of embarrassment and dismay. +With a slight inclination of her head she passed, hearing behind +her Stepan Arkadyevitch's loud voice calling him to come up, and +the quiet, soft, and composed voice of Vronsky refusing. + +When Anna returned with the album, he was already gone, and +Stepan Arkadyevitch was telling them that he had called to +inquire about the dinner they were giving next day to a celebrity +who had just arrived. "And nothing would induce him to come up. +What a queer fellow he is!" added Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +Kitty blushed. She thought that she was the only person who knew +why he had come, and why he would not come up. "He has been at +home," she thought, "and didn't find me, and thought I should be +here, but he did not come up because he thought it late, and +Anna's here." + +All of them looked at each other, saying nothing, and began to +look at Anna's album. + +There was nothing either exceptional or strange in a man's +calling at half-past nine on a friend to inquire details of a +proposed dinner party and not coming in, but it seemed strange to +all of them. Above all, it seemed strange and not right to Anna. + + + +Chapter 22 + + +The ball was only just beginning as Kitty and her mother walked +up the great staircase, flooded with light, and lined with +flowers and footmen in powder and red coats. From the rooms came +a constant, steady hum, as from a hive, and the rustle of +movement; and while on the landing between trees they gave last +touches to their hair and dresses before the mirror, they heard +from the ballroom the careful, distinct notes of the fiddles of +the orchestra beginning the first waltz. A little old man in +civilian dress, arranging his gray curls before another mirror, +and diffusing an odor of scent, stumbled against them on the +stairs, and stood aside, evidently admiring Kitty, whom he did +not know. A beardless youth, one of those society youths whom +the old Prince Shtcherbatsky called "young bucks," in an +exceedingly open waistcoat, straightening his white tie as he +went, bowed to them, and after running by, came back to ask Kitty +for a quadrille. As the first quadrille had already been given +to Vronsky, she had to promise this youth the second. An +officer, buttoning his glove, stood aside in the doorway, and +stroking his mustache, admired rosy Kitty. + +Although her dress, her coiffure, and all the preparations for +the ball had cost Kitty great trouble and consideration, at this +moment she walked into the ballroom in her elaborate tulle dress +over a pink slip as easily and simply as though all the rosettes +and lace, all the minute details of her attire, had not cost her +or her family a moment's attention, as though she had been born +in that tulle and lace, with her hair done up high on her head, +and a rose and two leaves on the top of it. + +When, just before entering the ballroom, the princess, her +mother, tried to turn right side out of the ribbon of her sash, +Kitty had drawn back a little. She felt that everything must be +right of itself, and graceful, and nothing could need setting +straight. + +It was one of Kitty's best days. Her dress was not +uncomfortable anywhere; her lace berthe did not droop anywhere; +her rosettes were not crushed nor torn off; her pink slippers +with high, hollowed-out heels did not pinch, but gladdened her +feet; and the thick rolls of fair chignon kept up on her head as +if they were her own hair. All the three buttons buttoned up +without tearing on the long glove that covered her hand without +concealing its lines. The black velvet of her locket nestled +with special softness round her neck. That velvet was delicious; +at home, looking at her neck in the looking glass, Kitty had felt +that that velvet was speaking. About all the rest there might be +a doubt, but the velvet was delicious. Kitty smiled here too, at +the ball, when she glanced at it in the glass. Her bare +shoulders and arms gave Kitty a sense of chill marble, a feeling +she particularly liked. Her eyes sparkled, and her rosy lips +could not keep from smiling from the consciousness of her own +attractiveness. She had scarcely entered the ballroom and +reached the throng of ladies, all tulle, ribbons, lace, and +flowers, waiting to be asked to dance--Kitty was never one of +that throng--when she was asked for a waltz, and asked by the +best partner, the first star in the hierarchy of the ballroom, a +renowned director of dances, a married man, handsome and +well-built, Yegorushka Korsunsky. He had only just left the +Countess Bonina, with whom he had danced the first half of the +waltz, and, scanning his kingdom--that is to say, a few couples +who had started dancing--he caught sight of Kitty, entering, and +flew up to her with that peculiar, easy amble which is confined +to directors of balls. Without even asking her if she cared to +dance, he put out his arm to encircle her slender waist. She +looked round for someone to give her fan to, and their hostess, +smiling to her, took it. + +"How nice you've come in good time," he said to her, embracing +her waist; "such a bad habit to be late." Bending her left hand, +she laid it on his shoulder, and her little feet in their pink +slippers began swiftly, lightly, and rhythmically moving over the +slippery floor in time to the music. + +"It's a rest to waltz with you," he said to her, as they fell +into the first slow steps of the waltz. "It's exquisite--such +lightness, precision." He said to her the same thing he said to +almost all his partners whom he knew well. + +She smiled at his praise, and continued to look about the room +over his shoulder. She was not like a girl at her first ball, +for whom all faces in the ballroom melt into one vision of +fairyland. And she was not a girl who had gone the stale round +of balls till every face in the ballroom was familiar and +tiresome. But she was in the middle stage between these two; she +was excited, and at the same time she had sufficient +self-possession to be able to observe. In the left corner of the +ballroom she saw the cream of society gathered together. +There--incredibly naked--was the beauty Lidi, Korsunsky's wife; +there was the lady of the house; there shone the bald head of +Krivin, always to be found where the best people were. In that +direction gazed the young men, not venturing to approach. There, +too, she descried Stiva, and there she saw the exquisite figure +and head of Anna in a black velvet gown. And _he_ was there. +Kitty had not seen him since the evening she refused Levin. With +her long-sighted eyes, she knew him at once, and was even aware +that he was looking at her. + +"Another turn, eh? You're not tired?" said Korsunsky, a little +out of breath. + +"No, thank you!" + +"Where shall I take you?" + +"Madame Karenina's here, I think...take me to her." + +"Wherever you command." + +And Korsunsky began waltzing with measured steps straight towards +the group in the left corner, continually saying, "Pardon, +mesdames, pardon, pardon, mesdames"; and steering his course +through the sea of lace, tulle, and ribbon, and not disarranging +a feather, he turned his partner sharply round, so that her slim +ankles, in light transparent stockings, were exposed to view, and +her train floated out in fan shape and covered Krivin's knees. +Korsunsky bowed, set straight his open shirt front, and gave her +his arm to conduct her to Anna Arkadyevna. Kitty, flushed, took +her train from Krivin's knees, and, a little giddy, looked round, +seeking Anna. Anna was not in lilac, as Kitty had so urgently +wished, but in a black, low-cut, velvet gown, showing her full +throat and shoulders, that looked as though carved in old ivory, +and her rounded arms, with tiny, slender wrists. The whole gown +was trimmed with Venetian guipure. On her head, among her black +hair--her own, with no false additions--was a little wreath of +pansies, and a bouquet of the same in the black ribbon of her +sash among white lace. Her coiffure was not striking. All that +was noticeable was the little wilful tendrils of her curly hair +that would always break free about her neck and temples. Round +her well-cut, strong neck was a thread of pearls. + +Kitty had been seeing Anna every day; she adored her, and had +pictured her invariably in lilac. But now seeing her in black, +she felt that she had not fully seen her charm. She saw her now +as someone quite new and surprising to her. Now she understood +that Anna could not have been in lilac, and that her charm was +just that she always stood out against her attire, that her dress +could never be noticeable on her. And her black dress, with its +sumptuous lace, was not noticeable on her; it was only the frame, +and all that was seen was she--simple, natural, elegant, and at +the same time gay and eager. + +She was standing holding herself, as always, very erect, and when +Kitty drew near the group she was speaking to the master of the +house, her head slightly turned towards him. + +"No, I don't throw stones," she was saying, in answer to +something, "though I can't understand it," she went on, shrugging +her shoulders, and she turned at once with a soft smile of +protection towards Kitty. With a flying, feminine glance she +scanned her attire, and made a movement of her head, hardly +perceptible, but understood by Kitty, signifying approval of her +dress and her looks. "You came into the room dancing," she +added. + +"This is one of my most faithful supporters," said Korsunsky, +bowing to Anna Arkadyevna, whom he had not yet seen. "The +princess helps to make balls happy and successful. Anna +Arkadyevna, a waltz?" he said, bending down to her. + +"Why, have you met?" inquired their host. + +"Is there anyone we have not met? My wife and I are like white +wolves--everyone knows us," answered Korsunsky. "A waltz, Anna +Arkadyevna?" + +"I don't dance when it's possible not to dance," she said. + +"But tonight it's impossible," answered Korsunsky. + +At that instant Vronsky came up. + +"Well, since it's impossible tonight, let us start," she said, +not noticing Vronsky's bow, and she hastily put her hand on +Korsunsky's shoulder. + +"What is she vexed with him about?" thought Kitty, discerning +that Anna had intentionally not responded to Vronsky's bow. +Vronsky went up to Kitty reminding her of the first quadrille, +and expressing his regret that he had not seen her all this time. +Kitty gazed in admiration at Anna waltzing, and listened to him. +She expected him to ask her for a waltz, but he did not, and she +glanced wonderingly at him. He flushed slightly, and hurriedly +asked her to waltz, but he had only just put his arm round her +waist and taken the first step when the music suddenly stopped. +Kitty looked into his face, which was so close to her own, and +long afterwards--for several years after--that look, full of +love, to which he made no response, cut her to the heart with an +agony of shame. + +"_Pardon! pardon!_ Waltz! waltz!" shouted Korsunsky from the other +side of the room, and seizing the first young lady he came across +he began dancing himself. + + + +Chapter 23 + + +Vronsky and Kitty waltzed several times round the room. After +the first waltz Kitty went to her mother, and she had hardly time +to say a few words to Countess Nordston when Vronsky came up +again for the first quadrille. During the quadrille nothing of +any significance was said: there was disjointed talk between +them of the Korsunskys, husband and wife, whom he described very +amusingly, as delightful children at forty, and of the future +town theater; and only once the conversation touched her to the +quick, when he asked her about Levin, whether he was here, and +added that he liked him so much. But Kitty did not expect much +from the quadrille. She looked forward with a thrill at her +heart to the mazurka. She fancied that in the mazurka everything +must be decided. The fact that he did not during the quadrille +ask her for the mazurka did not trouble her. She felt sure she +would dance the mazurka with him as she had done at former balls, +and refused five young men, saying she was engaged for the +mazurka. The whole ball up to the last quadrille was for Kitty +an enchanted vision of delightful colors, sounds, and motions. +She only sat down when she felt too tired and begged for a rest. +But as she was dancing the last quadrille with one of the +tiresome young men whom she could not refuse, she chanced to be +vis-a-vis with Vronsky and Anna. She had not been near Anna +again since the beginning of the evening, and now again she saw +her suddenly quite new and surprising. She saw in her the signs +of that excitement of success she knew so well in herself; she +saw that she was intoxicated with the delighted admiration she +was exciting. She knew that feeling and knew its signs, and saw +them in Anna; saw the quivering, flashing light in her eyes, and +the smile of happiness and excitement unconsciously playing on +her lips, and the deliberate grace, precision, and lightness of +her movements. + +"Who?" she asked herself. "All or one?" And not assisting the +harassed young man she was dancing with in the conversation, the +thread of which he had lost and could not pick up again, she +obeyed with external liveliness the peremptory shouts of +Korsunsky starting them all into the _grand rond_, and then into +the _chaine_, and at the same time she kept watch with a growing +pang at her heart. "No, it's not the admiration of the crowd has +intoxicated her, but the adoration of one. And that one? can it +be he?" Every time he spoke to Anna the joyous light flashed +into her eyes, and the smile of happiness curved her red lips. +she seemed to make an effort to control herself, to try not to +show these signs of delight, but they came out on her face +of themselves. "But what of him?" Kitty looked at him and was +filled with terror. What was pictured so clearly to Kitty in the +mirror of Anna's face she saw in him. What had become of his +always self-possessed resolute manner, and the carelessly serene +expression of his face? Now every time he turned to her, he bent +his head, as though he would have fallen at her feet, and in his +eyes there was nothing but humble submission and dread. "I would +not offend you," his eyes seemed every time to be saying, "but I +want to save myself, and I don't know how." On his face was a +look such as Kitty had never seen before. + +They were speaking of common acquaintances, keeping up the most +trivial conversation, but to Kitty it seemed that every word they +said was determining their fate and hers. And strange it was +that they were actually talking of how absurd Ivan Ivanovitch was +with his French, and how the Eletsky girl might have made a +better match, yet these words had all the while consequence for +them, and they were feeling just as Kitty did. The whole ball, +the whole world, everything seemed lost in fog in Kitty's soul. +Nothing but the stern discipline of her bringing-up supported her +and forced her to do what was expected of her, that is, to dance, +to answer questions, to talk, even to smile. But before the +mazurka, when they were beginning to rearrange the chairs and a +few couples moved out of the smaller rooms into the big room, a +moment of despair and horror came for Kitty. She had refused +five partners, and now she was not dancing the mazurka. She had +not even a hope of being asked for it, because she was so +successful in society that the idea would never occur to anyone +that she had remained disengaged till now. She would have to +tell her mother she felt ill and go home, but she had not the +strength to do this. She felt crushed. She went to the furthest +end of the little drawing room and sank into a low chair. Her +light, transparent skirts rose like a cloud about her slender +waist; one bare, thin, soft, girlish arm, hanging listlessly, was +lost in the folds of her pink tunic; in the other she held her +fan, and with rapid, short strokes fanned her burning face. But +while she looked like a butterfly, clinging to a blade of grass, +and just about to open its rainbow wings for fresh flight, her +heart ached with a horrible despair. + +"But perhaps I am wrong, perhaps it was not so?" And again she +recalled all she had seen. + +"Kitty, what is it?" said Countess Nordston, stepping noiselessly +over the carpet towards her. "I don't understand it." + +Kitty's lower lip began to quiver; she got up quickly. + +"Kitty, you're not dancing the mazurka?" + +"No, no," said Kitty in a voice shaking with tears. + +"He asked her for the mazurka before me," said Countess Nordston, +knowing Kitty would understand who were "he" and "her." "She +said: 'Why, aren't you going to dance it with Princess +Shtcherbatskaya?'" + +"Oh, I don't care!" answered Kitty. + +No one but she herself understood her position; no one knew that +she had just refused the man whom perhaps she loved, and refused +him because she had put her faith in another. + +Countess Nordston found Korsunsky, with whom she was to dance the +mazurka, and told him to ask Kitty. + +Kitty danced in the first couple, and luckily for her she had not +to talk, because Korsunsky was all the time running about +directing the figure. Vronsky and Anna sat almost opposite her. +She saw them with her long-sighted eyes, and saw them, too, close +by, when they met in the figures, and the more she saw of them +the more convinced was she that her unhappiness was complete. +She saw that they felt themselves alone in that crowded room. +And on Vronsky's face, always so firm and independent, she saw +that look that had struck her, of bewilderment and humble +submissiveness, like the expression of an intelligent dog when it +has done wrong. + +Anna smiled, and her smile was reflected by him. She grew +thoughtful, and he became serious. Some supernatural force drew +Kitty's eyes to Anna's face. She was fascinating in her simple +black dress, fascinating were her round arms with their +bracelets, fascinating was her firm neck with its thread of +pearls, fascinating the straying curls of her loose hair, +fascinating the graceful, light movements of her little feet and +hands, fascinating was that lovely face in its eagerness, but +there was something terrible and cruel in her fascination. + +Kitty admired her more than ever, and more and more acute was her +suffering. Kitty felt overwhelmed, and her face showed it. When +Vronsky saw her, coming across her in the mazurka, he did not at +once recognize her, she was so changed. + +"Delightful ball!" he said to her, for the sake of saying +something. + +"Yes," she answered. + +In the middle of the mazurka, repeating a complicated figure, +newly invented by Korsunsky, Anna came forward into the center of +the circle, chose two gentlemen, and summoned a lady and Kitty. +Kitty gazed at her in dismay as she went up. Anna looked at her +with drooping eyelids, and smiled, pressing her hand. But, +noticing that Kitty only responded to her smile by a look of +despair and amazement, she turned away from her, and began gaily +talking to the other lady. + +"Yes, there is something uncanny, devilish and fascinating in +her," Kitty said to herself. + +Anna did not mean to stay to supper, but the master of the house +began to press her to do so. + +"Nonsense, Anna Arkadyevna," said Korsunsky, drawing her bare arm +under the sleeve of his dress coat, "I've such an idea for a +_cotillion! Un bijou!_" + +And he moved gradually on, trying to draw her along with him. +Their host smiled approvingly. + +"No, I am not going to stay," answered Anna, smiling, but in +spite of her smile, both Korsunsky and the master of the house +saw from her resolute tone that she would not stay. + +"No; why, as it is, I have danced more at your ball in Moscow than +I have all the winter in Petersburg," said Anna, looking round at +Vronsky, who stood near her. "I must rest a little before my +journey." + +"Are you certainly going tomorrow then?" asked Vronsky. + +"Yes, I suppose so," answered Anna, as it were wondering at the +boldness of his question; but the irrepressible, quivering +brilliance of her eyes and her smile set him on fire as she said +it. + +Anna Arkadyevna did not stay to supper, but went home. + + + +Chapter 24 + + +"Yes, there is something in me hateful, repulsive," thought Levin, +as he came away from the Shtcherbatskys', and walked in the +direction of his brother's lodgings. "And I don't get on with +other people. Pride, they say. No, I have no pride. If I had +any pride, I should not have put myself in such a position." And +he pictured to himself Vronsky, happy, good-natured, clever, and +self-possessed, certainly never placed in the awful position in +which he had been that evening. "Yes, she was bound to choose +him. So it had to be, and I cannot complain of anyone or +anything. I am myself to blame. What right had I to imagine she +would care to join her life to mine? Who am I and what am I? A +nobody, not wanted by any one, nor of use to anybody." And he +recalled his brother Nikolay, and dwelt with pleasure on the +thought of him. "Isn't he right that everything in the world is +base and loathsome? And are we fair in our judgment of brother +Nikolay? Of course, from the point of view of Prokofy, seeing +him in a torn cloak and tipsy, he's a despicable person. But I +know him differently. I know his soul, and know that we are like +him. And I, instead of going to seek him out, went out to +dinner, and came here." Levin walked up to a lamppost, read his +brother's address, which was in his pocketbook, and called a +sledge. All the long way to his brother's, Levin vividly +recalled all the facts familiar to him of his brother Nikolay's +life. He remembered how his brother, while at the university, +and for a year afterwards, had, in spite of the jeers of his +companions, lived like a monk, strictly observing all religious +rites, services, and fasts, and avoiding every sort of pleasure, +especially women. And afterwards, how he had all at once broken +out: he had associated with the most horrible people, and rushed +into the most senseless debauchery. He remembered later the +scandal over a boy, whom he had taken from the country to bring +up, and, in a fit of rage, had so violently beaten that +proceedings were brought against him for unlawfully wounding. +Then he recalled the scandal with a sharper, to whom he had lost +money, and given a promissory note, and against whom he had +himself lodged a complaint, asserting that he had cheated him. +(This was the money Sergey Ivanovitch had paid.) Then he +remembered how he had spent a night in the lockup for disorderly +conduct in the street. He remembered the shameful proceedings he +had tried to get up against his brother Sergey Ivanovitch, +accusing him of not having paid him his share of his mother's +fortune, and the last scandal, when he had gone to a western +province in an official capacity, and there had got into trouble +for assaulting a village elder.... It was all horribly +disgusting, yet to Levin it appeared not at all in the same +disgusting light as it inevitably would to those who did not know +Nikolay, did not know all his story, did not know his heart. + +Levin remembered that when Nikolay had been in the devout stage, +the period of fasts and monks and church services, when he was +seeking in religion a support and a curb for his passionate +temperament, everyone, far from encouraging him, had jeered at +him, and he, too, with the others. They had teased him, called +him Noah and Monk; and, when he had broken out, no one had helped +him, but everyone had turned away from him with horror and +disgust. + +Levin felt that, in spite of all the ugliness of his life, his +brother Nikolay, in his soul, in the very depths of his soul, was +no more in the wrong than the people who despised him. He was +not to blame for having been born with his unbridled temperament +and his somehow limited intelligence. But he had always wanted +to be good. "I will tell him everything, without reserve, and I +will make him speak without reserve, too, and I'll show him that +I love him, and so understand him," Levin resolved to himself, +as, towards eleven o'clock, he reached the hotel of which he had +the address. + +"At the top, 12 and 13," the porter answered Levin's inquiry. + +"At home?" + +"Sure to be at home." + +The door of No. 12 was half open, and there came out into the +streak of light thick fumes of cheap, poor tobacco, and the sound +of a voice, unknown to Levin; but he knew at once that his +brother was there; he heard his cough. + +As he went in the door, the unknown voice was saying: + +"It all depends with how much judgment and knowledge the thing's +done." + +Konstantin Levin looked in at the door, and saw that the speaker +was a young man with an immense shock of hair, wearing a Russian +jerkin, and that a pockmarked woman in a woolen gown, without +collar or cuffs, was sitting on the sofa. His brother was not to +be seen. Konstantin felt a sharp pang at his heart at the +thought of the strange company in which his brother spent his +life. No one had heard him, and Konstantin, taking off his +galoshes, listened to what the gentleman in the jerkin was +saying. He was speaking of some enterprise. + +"Well, the devil flay them, the privileged classes," his +brother's voice responded, with a cough. "Masha! get us some +supper and some wine if there's any left; or else go and get +some." + +The woman rose, came out from behind the screen, and saw +Konstantin. + +"There's some gentleman, Nikolay Dmitrievitch," she said. + +"Whom do you want?" said the voice of Nikolay Levin, angrily. + +"It's I," answered Konstantin Levin, coming forward into the +light. + +"Who's _I_?" Nikolay's voice said again, still more angrily. He +could be heard getting up hurriedly, stumbling against something, +and Levin saw, facing him in the doorway, the big, scared eyes, +and the huge, thin, stooping figure of his brother, so familiar, +and yet astonishing in its weirdness and sickliness. + +He was even thinner than three years before, when Konstantin +Levin had seen him last. He was wearing a short coat, and his +hands and big bones seemed huger than ever. His hair had grown +thinner, the same straight mustaches hid his lips, the same eyes +gazed strangely and naively at his visitor. + +"Ah, Kostya!" he exclaimed suddenly, recognizing his brother, and +his eyes lit up with joy. But the same second he looked round at +the young man, and gave the nervous jerk of his head and neck +that Konstantin knew so well, as if his neckband hurt him; and a +quite different expression, wild, suffering, and cruel, rested +on his emaciated face. + +"I wrote to you and Sergey Ivanovitch both that I don't know you +and don't want to know you. What is it you want?" + +He was not at all the same as Konstantin had been fancying him. +The worst and most tiresome part of his character, what made all +relations with him so difficult, had been forgotten by Konstantin +Levin when he thought of him, and now, when he saw his face, and +especially that nervous twitching of his head, he remembered it +all. + +"I didn't want to see you for anything," he answered timidly. +"I've simply come to see you." + +His brother's timidity obviously softened Nikolay. His lips +twitched. + +"Oh, so that's it?" he said. "Well, come in; sit down. Like +some supper? Masha, bring supper for three. No, stop a minute. +Do you know who this is?" he said, addressing his brother, and +indicating the gentleman in the jerkin: "This is Mr. Kritsky, my +friend from Kiev, a very remarkable man. He's persecuted by the +police, of course, because he's not a scoundrel." + +And he looked round in the way he always did at everyone in the +room. Seeing that the woman standing in the doorway was moving +to go, he shouted to her, "Wait a minute, I said." And with the +inability to express himself, the incoherence that Konstantin +knew so well, he began, with another look round at everyone, to +tell his brother Kritsky's story: how he had been expelled from +the university for starting a benefit society for the poor +students and Sunday schools; and how he had afterwards been a +teacher in a peasant school, and how he had been driven out of +that too, and had afterwards been condemned for something. + +"You're of the Kiev university?" said Konstantin Levin to +Kritsky, to break the awkward silence that followed. + +"Yes, I was of Kiev," Kritsky replied angrily, his face +darkening. + +"And this woman," Nikolay Levin interrupted him, pointing to her, +"is the partner of my life, Marya Nikolaevna. I took her out of +a bad house," and he jerked his neck saying this; "but I love her +and respect her, and any one who wants to know me," he added, +raising his voice and knitting his brows, "I beg to love her and +respect her. She's just the same as my wife, just the same. So +now you know whom you've to do with. And if you think you're +lowering yourself, well, here's the floor, there's the door." + +And again his eyes traveled inquiringly over all of them. + +"Why I should be lowering myself, I don't understand." + +"Then, Masha, tell them to bring supper; three portions, spirits +and wine.... No, wait a minute.... No, it doesn't matter.... +Go along." + + + +Chapter 25 + + +"So you see," pursued Nikolay Levin, painfully wrinkling his +forehead and twitching. + +It was obviously difficult for him to think of what to say and +do. + +"Here, do you see?"... He pointed to some sort of iron bars, +fastened together with strings, lying in a corner of the room. +"Do you see that? That's the beginning of a new thing we're +going into. It's a productive association..." + +Konstantin scarcely heard him. He looked into his sickly, +consumptive face, and he was more and more sorry for him, and he +could not force himself to listen to what his brother was telling +him about the association. He saw that this association was a +mere anchor to save him from self-contempt. Nikolay Levin went +on talking: + +"You know that capital oppresses the laborer. The laborers with +us, the peasants, bear all the burden of labor, and are so placed +that however much they work they can't escape from their position +of beasts of burden. All the profits of labor, on which they +might improve their position, and gain leisure for themselves, +and after that education, all the surplus values are taken from +them by the capitalists. And society's so constituted that the +harder they work, the greater the profit of the merchants and +landowners, while they stay beasts of burden to the end. And +that state of things must be changed," he finished up, and he +looked questioningly at his brother. + +"Yes, of course," said Konstantin, looking at the patch of red +that had come out on his brother's projecting cheek bones. + +"And so we're founding a locksmiths' association, where all the +production and profit and the chief instruments of production +will be in common." + +"Where is the association to be?" asked Konstantin Levin. + +"In the village of Vozdrem, Kazan government." + +"But why in a village? In the villages, I think, there is plenty +of work as it is. Why a locksmiths' association in a village?" + +"Why? Because the peasants are just as much slaves as they ever +were, and that's why you and Sergey Ivanovitch don't like people +to try and get them out of their slavery," said Nikolay Levin, +exasperated by the objection. + +Konstantin Levin sighed, looking meanwhile about the cheerless +and dirty room. This sigh seemed to exasperate Nikolay still +more. + +"I know your and Sergey Ivanovitch's aristocratic views. I know +that he applies all the power of his intellect to justify +existing evils." + +"No; and what do you talk of Sergey Ivanovitch for?" said Levin, +smiling. + +"Sergey Ivanovitch? I'll tell you what for!" Nikolay Levin +shrieked suddenly at the name of Sergey Ivanovitch. "I'll tell +you what for.... But what's the use of talking? There's only one +thing.... What did you come to me for? You look down on this, +and you're welcome to,--and go away, in God's name go away!" he +shrieked, getting up from his chair. "And go away, and go away!" + +"I don't look down on it at all," said Konstantin Levin timidly. +"I don't even dispute it." + +At that instant Marya Nikolaevna came back. Nikolay Levin +looked round angrily at her. She went quickly to him, and +whispered something. + +"I'm not well; I've grown irritable," said Nikolay Levin, getting +calmer and breathing painfully; "and then you talk to me of +Sergey Ivanovitch and his article. It's such rubbish, such +lying, such self-deception. What can a man write of justice who +knows nothing of it? Have you read his article?" he asked +Kritsky, sitting down again at the table, and moving back off +half of it the scattered cigarettes, so as to clear a space. + +"I've not read it," Kritsky responded gloomily, obviously not +desiring to enter into the conversation. + +"Why not?" said Nikolay Levin, now turning with exasperation upon +Kritsky. + +"Because I didn't see the use of wasting my time over it." + +"Oh, but excuse me, how did you know it would be wasting your +time? That article's too deep for many people--that's to say +it's over their heads. But with me, it's another thing; I see +through his ideas, and I know where its weakness lies." + +Everyone was mute. Kritsky got up deliberately and reached his +cap. + +"Won't you have supper? All right, good-bye! Come round +tomorrow with the locksmith." + +Kritsky had hardly gone out when Nikolay Levin smiled and winked. + +"He's no good either," he said. "I see, of course..." + +But at that instant Kritsky, at the door, called him... + +"What do you want now?" he said, and went out to him in the +passage. Left alone with Marya Nikolaevna, Levin turned to her. + +"Have you been long with my brother?" he said to her. + +"Yes, more than a year. Nikolay Dmitrievitch's health has become +very poor. Nikolay Dmitrievitch drinks a great deal," she said. + +"That is...how does he drink?" + +"Drinks vodka, and it's bad for him." + +"And a great deal?" whispered Levin. + +"Yes," she said, looking timidly towards the doorway, where +Nikolay Levin had reappeared. + +"What were you talking about?" he said, knitting his brows, and +turning his scared eyes from one to the other. "What was it?" + +"Oh, nothing," Konstantin answered in confusion. + +"Oh, if you don't want to say, don't. Only it's no good your +talking to her. She's a wench, and you're a gentleman," he said +with a jerk of the neck. "You understand everything, I see, and +have taken stock of everything, and look with commiseration on my +shortcomings," he began again, raising his voice. + +"Nikolay Dmitrievitch, Nikolay Dmitrievitch," whispered Marya +Nikolaevna, again going up to him. + +"Oh, very well, very well!... But where's the supper? Ah, here +it is," he said, seeing a waiter with a tray. "Here, set it +here," he added angrily, and promptly seizing the vodka, he +poured out a glassful and drank it greedily. "Like a drink?" he +turned to his brother, and at once became better humored. + +"Well, enough of Sergey Ivanovitch. I'm glad to see you, anyway. +After all's said and done, we're not strangers. Come, have a +drink. Tell me what you're doing," he went on, greedily munching +a piece of bread, and pouring out another glassful. "How are you +living?" + +"I live alone in the country, as I used to. I'm busy looking +after the land," answered Konstantin, watching with horror the +greediness with which his brother ate and drank, and trying to +conceal that he noticed it. + +"Why don't you get married?" + +"It hasn't happened so," Konstantin answered, reddening a little. + +"Why not? For me now...everything's at an end! I've made a mess +of my life. But this I've said, and I say still, that if my +share had been given me when I needed it, my whole life would +have been different." + +Konstantin made haste to change the conversation. + +"Do you know your little Vanya's with me, a clerk in the +countinghouse at Pokrovskoe." + +Nikolay jerked his neck, and sank into thought. + +"Yes, tell me what's going on at Pokrovskoe. Is the house +standing still, and the birch trees, and our schoolroom? And +Philip the gardener, is he living? How I remember the arbor and +the seat! Now mind and don't alter anything in the house, but +make haste and get married, and make everything as it used to be +again. Then I'll come and see you, if your wife is nice." + +"But come to me now," said Levin. "How nicely we would arrange +it!" + +"I'd come and see you if I were sure I should not find Sergey +Ivanovitch." + +"You wouldn't find him there. I live quite independently of +him." + +"Yes, but say what you like, you will have to choose between me +and him," he said, looking timidly into his brother's face. + +This timidity touched Konstantin. + +"If you want to hear my confession of faith on the subject, I +tell you that in your quarrel with Sergey Ivanovitch I take +neither side. You're both wrong. You're more wrong externally, +and he inwardly." + +"Ah, ah! You see that, you see that!" Nikolay shouted joyfully. + +"But I personally value friendly relations with you more +because..." + +"Why, why?" + +Konstantin could not say that he valued it more because Nikolay +was unhappy, and needed affection. But Nikolay knew that this +was just what he meant to say, and scowling he took up the vodka +again. + +"Enough, Nikolay Dmitrievitch!" said Marya Nikolaevna, stretching +out her plump, bare arm towards the decanter. + +"Let it be! Don't insist! I'll beat you!" he shouted. + +Marya Nikolaevna smiled a sweet and good-humored smile, which was +at once reflected on Nikolay's face, and she took the bottle. + +"And do you suppose she understands nothing?" said Nikolay. "She +understands it all better than any of us. Isn't it true there's +something good and sweet in her?" + +"Were you never before in Moscow?" Konstantin said to her, for +the sake of saying something. + +"Only you mustn't be polite and stiff with her. It frightens +her. No one ever spoke to her so but the justices of the peace +who tried her for trying to get out of a house of ill-fame. +Mercy on us, the senselessness in the world!" he cried suddenly. +"These new institutions, these justices of the peace, rural +councils, what hideousness it all is!" + +And he began to enlarge on his encounters with the new +institutions. + +Konstantin Levin heard him, and the disbelief in the sense of +all public institutions, which he shared with him, and often +expressed, was distasteful to him now from his brother's lips. + +"In another world we shall understand it all," he said lightly. + +"In another world! Ah, I don't like that other world! I don't +like it," he said, letting his scared eyes rest on his brother's +eyes. "Here one would think that to get out of all the baseness +and the mess, one's own and other people's, would be a good +thing, and yet I'm afraid of death, awfully afraid of death." He +shuddered. "But do drink something. Would you like some +champagne? Or shall we go somewhere? Let's go to the Gypsies! +Do you know I have got so fond of the Gypsies and Russian songs." + +His speech had begun to falter, and he passed abruptly from one +subject to another. Konstantin with the help of Masha persuaded +him not to go out anywhere, and got him to bed hopelessly drunk. + +Masha promised to write to Konstantin in case of need, and to +persuade Nikolay Levin to go and stay with his brother. + + + +Chapter 26 + + +In the morning Konstantin Levin left Moscow, and towards evening +he reached home. On the journey in the train he talked to his +neighbors about politics and the new railways, and, just as in +Moscow, he was overcome by a sense of confusion of ideas, +dissatisfaction with himself, shame of something or other. But +when he got out at his own station, when he saw his one-eyed +coachman, Ignat, with the collar of his coat turned up; when, in +the dim light reflected by the station fires, he saw his own +sledge, his own horses with their tails tied up, in their harness +trimmed with rings and tassels; when the coachman Ignat, as he +put in his luggage, told him the village news, that the +contractor had arrived, and that Pava had calved,--he felt that +little by little the confusion was clearing up, and the shame and +self-dissatisfaction were passing away. He felt this at the mere +sight of Ignat and the horses; but when he had put on the +sheepskin brought for him, had sat down wrapped up in the sledge, +and had driven off pondering on the work that lay before him in +the village, and staring at the side-horse, that had been his +saddle-horse, past his prime now, but a spirited beast from the +Don, he began to see what had happened to him in quite a +different light. He felt himself, and did not want to be any one +else. All he wanted now was to be better than before. In the +first place he resolved that from that day he would give up +hoping for any extraordinary happiness, such as marriage must +have given him, and consequently he would not so disdain what he +really had. Secondly, he would never again let himself give way +to low passion, the memory of which had so tortured him when he +had been making up his mind to make an offer. Then remembering +his brother Nikolay, he resolved to himself that he would never +allow himself to forget him, that he would follow him up, and not +lose sight of him, so as to be ready to help when things should +go ill with him. And that would be soon, he felt. Then, too, +his brother's talk of communism, which he had treated so lightly +at the time, now made him think. He considered a revolution in +economic conditions nonsense. But he always felt the injustice +of his own abundance in comparison with the poverty of the +peasants, and now he determined that so as to feel quite in the +right, though he had worked hard and lived by no means +luxuriously before, he would now work still harder, and would +allow himself even less luxury. And all this seemed to him so +easy a conquest over himself that he spent the whole drive in the +pleasantest daydreams. With a resolute feeling of hope in a new, +better life, he reached home before nine o'clock at night. + +The snow of the little quadrangle before the house was lit up by +a light in the bedroom windows of his old nurse, Agafea +Mihalovna, who performed the duties of housekeeper in his house. +She was not yet asleep. Kouzma, waked up by her, came sidling +sleepily out onto the steps. A setter bitch, Laska, ran out too, +almost upsetting Kouzma, and whining, turned round about Levin's +knees, jumping up and longing, but not daring, to put her +forepaws on his chest. + +"You're soon back again, sir," said Agafea Mihalovna. + +"I got tired of it, Agafea Mihalovna. With friends, one is well; +but at home, one is better," he answered, and went into his +study. + +The study was slowly lit up as the candle was brought in. The +familiar details came out: the stag's horns, the bookshelves, +the looking-glass, the stove with its ventilator, which had long +wanted mending, his father's sofa, a large table, on the table an +open book, a broken ash tray, a manuscript book with his +handwriting. As he saw all this, there came over him for an +instant a doubt of the possibility of arranging the new life, of +which he had been dreaming on the road. All these traces of his +life seemed to clutch him, and to say to him: "No, you're not +going to get away from us, and you're not going to be different, +but you're going to be the same as you've always been; with +doubts, everlasting dissatisfaction with yourself, vain efforts +to amend, and falls, and everlasting expectation, of a happiness +which you won't get, and which isn't possible for you." + +This the things said to him, but another voice in his heart was +telling him that he must not fall under the sway of the past, and +that one can do anything with oneself. And hearing that voice, +he went into the corner where stood his two heavy dumbbells, and +began brandishing them like a gymnast, trying to restore his +confident temper. There was a creak of steps at the door. He +hastily put down the dumbbells. + +The bailiff came in, and said everything, thank God, was doing +well; but informed him that the buckwheat in the new drying +machine had been a little scorched. This piece of news irritated +Levin. The new drying machine had been constructed and partly +invented by Levin. The bailiff had always been against the +drying machine, and now it was with suppressed triumph that he +announced that the buckwheat had been scorched. Levin was firmly +convinced that if the buckwheat had been scorched, it was only +because the precautions had not been taken, for which he had +hundreds of times given orders. He was annoyed, and reprimanded +the bailiff. But there had been an important and joyful event: +Pava, his best cow, an expensive beast, bought at a show, had +calved. + +"Kouzma, give me my sheepskin. And you tell them to take a +lantern. I'll come and look at her," he said to the bailiff. + +The cowhouse for the more valuable cows was just behind the +house. Walking across the yard, passing a snowdrift by the lilac +tree, he went into the cowhouse. There was the warm, steamy +smell of dung when the frozen door was opened, and the cows, +astonished at the unfamiliar light of the lantern, stirred on the +fresh straw. He caught a glimpse of the broad, smooth, black and +piebald back of Hollandka. Berkoot, the bull, was lying down +with his ring in his lip, and seemed about to get up, but thought +better of it, and only gave two snorts as they passed by him. +Pava, a perfect beauty, huge as a hippopotamus, with her back +turned to them, prevented their seeing the calf, as she sniffed +her all over. + +Levin went into the pen, looked Pava over, and lifted the red and +spotted calf onto her long, tottering legs. Pava, uneasy, began +lowing, but when Levin put the calf close to her she was soothed, +and, sighing heavily, began licking her with her rough tongue. +The calf, fumbling, poked her nose under her mother's udder, and +stiffened her tail out straight. + +"Here, bring the light, Fyodor, this way," said Levin, examining +the calf. "Like the mother! though the color takes after the +father; but that's nothing. Very good. Long and broad in the +haunch. Vassily Fedorovitch, isn't she splendid?" he said to the +bailiff, quite forgiving him for the buckwheat under the +influence of his delight in the calf. + +"How could she fail to be? Oh, Semyon the contractor came the +day after you left. You must settle with him, Konstantin +Dmitrievitch," said the bailiff. "I did inform you about the +machine." + +This question was enough to take Levin back to all the details of +his work on the estate, which was on a large scale, and +complicated. He went straight from the cowhouse to the counting +house, and after a little conversation with the bailiff and +Semyon the contractor, he went back to the house and straight +upstairs to the drawing room. + + + +Chapter 27 + + +The house was big and old-fashioned, and Levin, though he lived +alone, had the whole house heated and used. He knew that this +was stupid, he knew that it was positively not right, and +contrary to his present new plans, but this house was a whole +world to Levin. It was the world in which his father and mother +had lived and died. They had lived just the life that to Levin +seemed the ideal of perfection, and that he had dreamed of +beginning with his wife, his family. + +Levin scarcely remembered his mother. His conception of her was +for him a sacred memory, and his future wife was bound to be in +his imagination a repetition of that exquisite, holy ideal of a +woman that his mother had been. + +He was so far from conceiving of love for woman apart from +marriage that he positively pictured to himself first the family, +and only secondarily the woman who would give him a family. His +ideas of marriage were, consequently, quite unlike those of the +great majority of his acquaintances, for whom getting married was +one of the numerous facts of social life. For Levin it was the +chief affair of life, on which its whole happiness turned. And +now he had to give up that. + +When he had gone into the little drawing room, where he always +had tea, and had settled himself in his armchair with a book, +and Agafea Mihalovna had brought him tea, and with her usual, +"Well, I'll stay a while, sir," had taken a chair in the window, +he felt that, however strange it might be, he had not parted from +his daydreams, and that he could not live without them. Whether +with her, or with another, still it would be. He was reading a +book, and thinking of what he was reading, and stopping to listen +to Agafea Mihalovna, who gossiped away without flagging, and yet +with all that, all sorts of pictures of family life and work in +the future rose disconnectedly before his imagination. He felt +that in the depth of his soul something had been put in its +place, settled down, and laid to rest. + +He heard Agafea Mihalovna talking of how Prohor had forgotten his +duty to God, and with the money Levin had given him to buy a +horse, had been drinking without stopping, and had beaten his +wife till he'd half killed her. He listened, and read his book, +and recalled the whole train of ideas suggested by his reading. +It was Tyndall's _Treatise on Heat_. He recalled his own +criticisms of Tyndall of his complacent satisfaction in the +cleverness of his experiments, and for his lack of philosophic +insight. And suddenly there floated into his mind the joyful +thought: "In two years' time I shall have two Dutch cows; Pava +herself will perhaps still be alive, a dozen young daughters of +Berkoot and the three others--how lovely!" + +He took up his book again. "Very good, electricity and heat are +the same thing; but is it possible to substitute the one quantity +for the other in the equation for the solution of any problem? +No. Well, then what of it? The connection between all the +forces of nature is felt instinctively.... It's particulary nice +if Pava's daughter should be a red-spotted cow, and all the herd +will take after her, and the other three, too! Splendid! To go +out with my wife and visitors to meet the herd.... My wife says, +Kostya and I looked after that calf like a child.' 'How can it +interest you so much?' says a visitor. 'Everything that +interests him, interests me.' But who will she be?" And he +remembered what had happened at Moscow.... "Well, there's +nothing to be done.... It's not my fault. But now everything +shall go on in a new way. It's nonsense to pretend that life +won't let one, that the past won't let one. One must struggle to +live better, much better."... He raised his head, and fell to +dreaming. Old Laska, who had not yet fully digested her delight +at his return, and had run out into the yard to bark, came back +wagging her tail, and crept up to him, bringing in the scent of +fresh air, put her head under his hand, and whined plaintively, +asking to be stroked. + +"There, who'd have thought it?" said Agafea Mihalovna. "The dog +now...why, she understands that her master's come home, and that +he's low-spirited." + +"Why low-spirited?" + +"Do you suppose I don't see it, sir? It's high time I should know +the gentry. Why, I've grown up from a little thing with them. +It's nothing, sir, so long as there's health and a clear +conscience." + +Levin looked intently at her, surprised at how well she knew his +thought. + +"Shall I fetch you another cup?" said she, and taking his cup she +went out. + +Laska kept poking her head under his hand. He stroked her, and +she promptly curled up at his feet, laying her head on a hindpaw. +And in token of all now being well and satisfactory, she opened +her mouth a little, smacked her lips, and settling her sticky +lips more comfortably about her old teeth, she sank into blissful +repose. Levin watched all her movements attentively. + +"That's what I'll do," he said to himself; "that's what I'll do! +Nothing's amiss.... All's well." + + + +Chapter 28 + + +After the ball, early next morning, Anna Arkadyevna sent her +husband a telegram that she was leaving Moscow the same day. + +"No, I must go, I must go"; she explained to her sister-in-law +the change in her plans in a tone that suggested that she had to +remember so many things that there was no enumerating them: "no, +it had really better be today!" + +Stepan Arkadyevitch was not dining at home, but he promised to +come and see his sister off at seven o'clock. + +Kitty, too, did not come, sending a note that she had a headache. +Dolly and Anna dined alone with the children and the English +governess. Whether it was that the children were fickle, or that +they had acute senses, and felt that Anna was quite different +that day from what she had been when they had taken such a fancy +to her, that she was not now interested in them,--but they had +abruptly dropped their play with their aunt, and their love for +her, and were quite indifferent that she was going away. Anna +was absorbed the whole morning in preparations for her +departure. She wrote notes to her Moscow acquaintances, put down +her accounts, and packed. Altogether Dolly fancied she was not +in a placid state of mind, but in that worried mood, which Dolly +knew well with herself, and which does not come without cause, +and for the most part covers dissatisfaction with self. After +dinner, Anna went up to her room to dress, and Dolly followed +her. + +"How queer you are today!" Dolly said to her. + +"I? Do you think so? I'm not queer, but I'm nasty. I am like +that sometimes. I keep feeling as if I could cry. It's very +stupid, but it'll pass off," said Anna quickly, and she bent her +flushed face over a tiny bag in which she was packing a nightcap +and some cambric handkerchiefs. Her eyes were particularly +bright, and were continually swimming with tears. "In the same +way I didn't want to leave Petersburg, and now I don't want to go +away from here." + +"You came here and did a good deed," said Dolly, looking intently +at her. + +Anna looked at her with eyes wet with tears. + +"Don't say that, Dolly. I've done nothing, and could do nothing. +I often wonder why people are all in league to spoil me. What +have I done, and what could I do? In your heart there was found +love enough to forgive..." + +"If it had not been for you, God knows what would have happened! +How happy you are, Anna!" said Dolly. "Everything is clear and +good in your heart." + +"Every heart has its own _skeletons_, as the English say." + +"You have no sort of _skeleton_, have you? Everything is so clear +in you." + +"I have!" said Anna suddenly, and, unexpectedly after her tears, +a sly, ironical smile curved her lips. + +"Come, he's amusing, anyway, your _skeleton_, and not depressing," +said Dolly, smiling. + +"No, he's depressing. Do you know why I'm going today instead of +tomorrow? It's a confession that weighs on me; I want to make it +to you," said Anna, letting herself drop definitely into an +armchair, and looking straight into Dolly's face. + +And to her surprise Dolly saw that Anna was blushing up to her +ears, up to the curly black ringlets on her neck. + +"Yes," Anna went on. "Do you know why Kitty didn't come to +dinner? She's jealous of me. I have spoiled...I've been the +cause of that ball being a torture to her instead of a pleasure. +But truly, truly, it's not my fault, or only my fault a little +bit," she said, daintily drawling the words "a little bit." + +"Oh, how like Stiva you said that!" said Dolly, laughing. + +Anna was hurt. + +"Oh no, oh no! I'm not Stiva," she said, knitting her brows. +"That's why I'm telling you, just because I could never let +myself doubt myself for an instant," said Anna. + +But at the very moment she was uttering the words, she felt that +they were not true. She was not merely doubting herself, she +felt emotion at the thought of Vronsky, and was going away sooner +than she had meant, simply to avoid meeting him. + +"Yes, Stiva told me you danced the mazurka with him, and that +he..." + +"You can't imagine how absurdly it all came about. I only meant +to be matchmaking, and all at once it turned out quite +differently. Possibly against my own will..." + +She crimsoned and stopped. + +"Oh, they feel it directly?" said Dolly. + +"But I should be in despair if there were anything serious in it +on his side," Anna interrupted her. "And I am certain it will +all be forgotten, and Kitty will leave off hating me." + +"All the same, Anna, to tell you the truth, I'm not very anxious +for this marriage for Kitty. And it's better it should come to +nothing, if he, Vronsky, is capable of falling in love with you +in a single day." + +"Oh, heavens, that would be too silly!" said Anna, and again a +deep flush of pleasure came out on her face, when she heard the +idea, that absorbed her, put into words. "And so here I am going +away, having made an enemy of Kitty, whom I liked so much! Ah, +how sweet she is! But you'll make it right, Dolly? Eh?" + +Dolly could scarcely suppress a smile. She loved Anna, but she +enjoyed seeing that she too had her weaknesses. + +"An enemy? That can't be." + +"I did so want you all to care for me, as I do for you, and now I +care for you more than ever," said Anna, with tears in her eyes. +"Ah, how silly I am today!" + +She passed her handkerchief over her face and began dressing. + +At the very moment of starting Stepan Arkadyevitch arrived, late, +rosy and good-humored, smelling of wine and cigars. + +Anna's emotionalism infected Dolly, and when she embraced her +sister-in-law for the last time, she whispered: "Remember, Anna, +what you've done for me--I shall never forget. And remember +that I love you, and shall always love you as my dearest friend!" + +"I don't know why," said Anna, kissing her and hiding her tears. + +"You understood me, and you understand. Good-bye, my darling!" + + + +Chapter 29 + + +"Come, it's all over, and thank God!" was the first thought that +came to Anna Arkadyevna, when she had said good-bye for the last +time to her brother, who had stood blocking up the entrance to +the carriage till the third bell rang. She sat down on her +lounge beside Annushka, and looked about her in the twilight of +the sleeping-carriage. "Thank God! tomorrow I shall see Seryozha +and Alexey Alexandrovitch, and my life will go on in the old way, +all nice and as usual." + +Still in the same anxious frame of mind, as she had been all that +day, Anna took pleasure in arranging herself for the journey with +great care. With her little deft hands she opened and shut her +little red bag, took out a cushion, laid it on her knees, and +carefully wrapping up her feet, settled herself comfortably. An +invalid lady had already lain down to sleep. Two other ladies +began talking to Anna, and a stout elderly lady tucked up her +feet, and made observations about the heating of the train. Anna +answered a few words, but not foreseeing any entertainment from +the conversation, she asked Annushka to get a lamp, hooked it +onto the arm of her seat, and took from her bag a paper knife and +an English novel. At first her reading made no progress. The +fuss and bustle were disturbing; then when the train had started, +she could not help listening to the noises; then the snow beating +on the left window and sticking to the pane, and the sight of the +muffled guard passing by, covered with snow on one side, and the +conversations about the terrible snowstorm raging outside, +distracted her attention. Farther on, it was continually the +same again and again: the same shaking and rattling, the same +snow on the window, the same rapid transitions from steaming +heat to cold, and back again to heat, the same passing glimpses +of the same figures in the twilight, and the same voices, and +Anna began to read and to understand what she read. Annushka was +already dozing, the red bag on her lap, clutched by her broad +hands, in gloves, of which one was torn. Anna Arkadyevna read +and understood, but it was distasteful to her to read, that is, +to follow the reflection of other people's lives. She had too +great a desire to live herself. If she read that the heroine of +the novel was nursing a sick man, she longed to move with +noiseless steps about the room of a sick man; if she read of a +member of Parliament making a speech, she longed to be delivering +the speech; if she read of how Lady Mary had ridden after the +hounds, and had provoked her sister-in-law, and had surprised +everyone by her boldness, she too wished to be doing the same. +But there was no chance of doing anything; and twisting the +smooth paper knife in her little hands, she forced herself to +read. + +The hero of the novel was already almost reaching his English +happiness, a baronetcy and an estate, and Anna was feeling a +desire to go with him to the estate, when she suddenly felt that +_he_ ought to feel ashamed, and that she was ashamed of the same +thing. But what had he to be ashamed of? "What have I to be +ashamed of?" she asked herself in injured surprise. She laid +down the book and sank against the back of the chair, tightly +gripping the paper cutter in both hands. There was nothing. She +went over all her Moscow recollections. All were good, pleasant. +She remembered the ball, remembered Vronsky and his face of +slavish adoration, remembered all her conduct with him: there +was nothing shameful. And for all that, at the same point in her +memories, the feeling of shame was intensified, as though some +inner voice, just at the point when she thought of Vronsky, were +saying to her, "Warm, very warm, hot." "Well, what is it?" she +said to herself resolutely, shifting her seat in the lounge. +"What does it mean? Am I afraid to look it straight in the face? +Why, what is it? Can it be that between me and this officer boy +there exist, or can exist, any other relations than such as are +common with every acquaintance?" She laughed contemptuously and +took up her book again; but now she was definitely unable to +follow what she read. She passed the paper knife over the window +pane, then laid its smooth, cool surface to her cheek, and almost +laughed aloud at the feeling of delight that all at once without +cause came over her. She felt as though her nerves were strings +being strained tighter and tighter on some sort of screwing peg. +She felt her eyes opening wider and wider, her fingers and toes +twitching nervously, something within oppressing her breathing, +while all shapes and sounds seemed in the uncertain half-light to +strike her with unaccustomed vividness. Moments of doubt were +continually coming upon her, when she was uncertain whether the +train were going forwards or backwards, or were standing still +altogether; whether it were Annushka at her side or a stranger. +"What's that on the arm of the chair, a fur cloak or some beast? +And what am I myself? Myself or some other woman?" She was +afraid of giving way to this delirium. But something drew her +towards it, and she could yield to it or resist it at will. She +got up to rouse herself, and slipped off her plaid and the cape +of her warm dress. For a moment she regained her +self-possession, and realized that the thin peasant who had come +in wearing a long overcoat, with buttons missing from it, was the +stoveheater, that he was looking at the thermometer, that it was +the wind and snow bursting in after him at the door; but then +everything grew blurred again.... That peasant with the long +waist seemed to be gnawing something on the wall, the old lady +began stretching her legs the whole length of the carriage, and +filling it with a black cloud; then there was a fearful shrieking +and banging, as though someone were being torn to pieces; then +there was a blinding dazzle of red fire before her eyes and a +wall seemed to rise up and hide everything. Anna felt as though +she were sinking down. But it was not terrible, but delightful. +The voice of a man muffled up and covered with snow shouted +something in her ear. She got up and pulled herself together; +she realized that they had reached a station and that this was +the guard. She asked Annushka to hand her the cape she had taken +off and her shawl, put them on and moved towards the door. + +"Do you wish to get out?" asked Annushka. + +"Yes, I want a little air. It's very hot in here." And she +opened the door. The driving snow and the wind rushed to meet +her and struggled with her over the door. But she enjoyed the +struggle. + +She opened the door and went out. The wind seemed as though +lying in wait for her; with gleeful whistle it tried to snatch +her up and bear her off, but she clung to the cold door post, and +holding her skirt got down onto the platform and under the +shelter of the carriages. The wind had been powerful on the +steps, but on the platform, under the lee of the carriages, there +was a lull. With enjoyment she drew deep breaths of the frozen, +snowy air, and standing near the carriage looked about the +platform and the lighted station. + + + +Chapter 30 + + +The raging tempest rushed whistling between the wheels of the +carriages, about the scaffolding, and round the corner of the +station. The carriages, posts, people, everything that was to be +seen was covered with snow on one side, and was getting more and +more thickly covered. For a moment there would come a lull in +the storm, but then it would swoop down again with such +onslaughts that it seemed impossible to stand against it. +Meanwhile men ran to and fro, talking merrily together, their +steps crackling on the platform as they continually opened and +closed the big doors. The bent shadow of a man glided by at her +feet, and she heard sounds of a hammer upon iron. "Hand over +that telegram!" came an angry voice out of the stormy darkness on +the other side. "This way! No. 28!" several different voices +shouted again, and muffled figures ran by covered with snow. Two +gentlemen with lighted cigarettes passed by her. She drew one +more deep breath of the fresh air, and had just put her hand out +of her muff to take hold of the door post and get back into the +carriage, when another man in a military overcoat, quite close +beside her, stepped between her and the flickering light of the +lamp post. She looked round, and the same instant recognized +Vronsky's face. Putting his hand to the peak of his cap, he +bowed to her and asked, Was there anything she wanted? Could he +be of any service to her? She gazed rather a long while at him +without answering, and, in spite of the shadow in which he was +standing, she saw, or fancied she saw, both the expression of his +face and his eyes. It was again that expression of reverential +ecstasy which had so worked upon her the day before. More than +once she had told herself during the past few days, and again +only a few moments before, that Vronsky was for her only one of +the hundreds of young men, forever exactly the same, that are met +everywhere, that she would never allow herself to bestow a +thought upon him. But now at the first instant of meeting him, +she was seized by a feeling of joyful pride. She had no need to +ask why he had come. She knew as certainly as if he had told her +that he was here to be where she was. + +"I didn't know you were going. What are you coming for?" she +said, letting fall the hand with which she had grasped the door +post. And irrepressible delight and eagerness shone in her face. + +"What am I coming for?" he repeated, looking straight into her +eyes. "You know that I have come to be where you are," he said; +"I can't help it." + +At that moment the wind, as it were, surmounting all obstacles, +sent the snow flying from the carriage roofs, and clanked some +sheet of iron it had torn off, while the hoarse whistle of the +engine roared in front, plaintively and gloomily. All the +awfulness of the storm seemed to her more splendid now. He had +said what her soul longed to hear, though she feared it with her +reason. She made no answer, and in her face he saw conflict. + +"Forgive me, if you dislike what I said," he said humbly. + +He had spoken courteously, deferentially, yet so firmly, so +stubbornly, that for a long while she could make no answer. + +"It's wrong, what you say, and I beg you, if you're a good man, +to forget what you've said, as I forget it," she said at last. + +"Not one word, not one gesture of yours shall I, could I, ever +forget..." + +"Enough, enough!" she cried trying assiduously to give a stern +expression to her face, into which he was gazing greedily. And +clutching at the cold door post, she clambered up the steps and +got rapidly into the corridor of the carriage. But in the little +corridor she paused, going over in her imagination what had +happened. Though she could not recall her own words or his, she +realized instinctively that the momentary conversation had +brought them fearfully closer; and she was panic-stricken and +blissful at it. After standing still a few seconds, she went +into the carriage and sat down in her place. The overstrained +condition which had tormented her before did not only come back, +but was intensified, and reached such a pitch that she was afraid +every minute that something would snap within her from the +excessive tension. She did not sleep all night. But in that +nervous tension, and in the visions that filled her imagination, +there was nothing disagreeable or gloomy: on the contrary there +was something blissful, glowing, and exhilarating. Towards +morning Anna sank into a doze, sitting in her place, and when she +waked it was daylight and the train was near Petersburg. At once +thoughts of home, of husband and of son, and the details of that +day and the following came upon her. + +At Petersburg, as soon as the train stopped and she got out, the +first person that attracted her attention was her husband. "Oh, +mercy! why do his ears look like that?" she thought, looking at +his frigid and imposing figure, and especially the ears that +struck her at the moment as propping up the brim of his round +hat. Catching sight of her, he came to meet her, his lips +falling into their habitual sarcastic smile, and his big, tired +eyes looking straight at her. An unpleasant sensation gripped at +her heart when she met his obstinate and weary glance, as though +she had expected to see him different. She was especially struck +by the feeling of dissatisfaction with herself that she +experienced on meeting him. That feeling was an intimate, +familiar feeling, like a consciousness of hypocrisy, which she +experienced in her relations with her husband. But hitherto she +had not taken note of the feeling, now she was clearly and +painfully aware of it. + +"Yes, as you see, your tender spouse, as devoted as the first +year after marriage, burned with impatience to see you," he said +in his deliberate, high-pitched voice, and in that tone which he +almost always took with her, a tone of jeering at anyone who +should say in earnest what he said. + +"Is Seryozha quite well?" she asked. + +"And is this all the reward," said he, "for my ardor? He's quite +well..." + + + +Chapter 31 + + +Vronsky had not even tried to sleep all that night. He sat in +his armchair, looking straight before him or scanning the people +who got in and out. If he had indeed on previous occasions +struck and impressed people who did not know him by his air of +unhesitating composure, he seemed now more haughty and +self-possessed than ever. He looked at people as if they were +things. A nervous young man, a clerk in a law court, sitting +opposite him, hated him for that look. The young man asked him +for a light, and entered into conversation with him, and even +pushed against him, to make him feel that he was not a thing, but +a person. But Vronsky gazed at him exactly as he did at the +lamp, and the young man made a wry face, feeling that he was +losing his self-possession under the oppression of this refusal +to recognize him as a person. + +Vronsky saw nothing and no one. He felt himself a king, not +because he believed that he had made an impression on Anna--he +did not yet believe that,--but because the impression she had +made on him gave him happiness and pride. + +What would come of it all he did not know, he did not even think. +He felt that all his forces, hitherto dissipated, wasted, were +centered on one thing, and bent with fearful energy on one +blissful goal. And he was happy at it. He knew only that he had +told her the truth, that he had come where she was, that all the +happiness of his life, the only meaning in life for him, now lay +in seeing and hearing her. And when he got out of the carriage +at Bologova to get some seltzer water, and caught sight of Anna, +involuntarily his first word had told her just what he thought. +And he was glad he had told her it, that she knew it now and was +thinking of it. He did not sleep all night. When he was back in +the carriage, he kept unceasingly going over every position in +which he had seen her, every word she had uttered, and before his +fancy, making his heart faint with emotion, floated pictures of a +possible future. + +When he got out of the train at Petersburg, he felt after his +sleepless night as keen and fresh as after a cold bath. He +paused near his compartment, waiting for her to get out. "Once +more," he said to himself, smiling unconsciously, "once more I +shall see her walk, her face; she will say something, turn her +head, glance, smile, maybe." But before he caught sight of her, +he saw her husband, whom the station-master was deferentially +escorting through the crowd. "Ah, yes! The husband." Only now +for the first time did Vronsky realize clearly the fact that +there was a person attached to her, a husband. He knew that she +had a husband, but had hardly believed in his existence, and only +now fully believed in him, with his head and shoulders, and his +legs clad in black trousers; especially when he saw this husband +calmly take her arm with a sense of property. + +Seeing Alexey Alexandrovitch with his Petersburg face and +severely self-confident figure, in his round hat, with his rather +prominent spine, he believed in him, and was aware of a +disagreeable sensation, such as a man might feel tortured by +thirst, who, on reaching a spring, should find a dog, a sheep, or +a pig, who has drunk of it and muddied the water. Alexey +Alexandrovitch's manner of walking, with a swing of the hips and +flat feet, particularly annoyed Vronsky. He could recognize in +no one but himself an indubitable right to love her. But she was +still the same, and the sight of her affected him the same way, +physically reviving him, stirring him, and filling his soul with +rapture. He told his German valet, who ran up to him from the +second class, to take his things and go on, and he himself went +up to her. He saw the first meeting between the husband and +wife, and noted with a lover's insight the signs of slight +reserve with which she spoke to her husband. "No, she does not +love him and cannot love him," he decided to himself. + +At the moment when he was approaching Anna Arkadyevna he noticed +too with joy that she was conscious of his being near, and looked +round, and seeing him, turned again to her husband. + +"Have you passed a good night?" he asked, bowing to her and her +husband together, and leaving it up to Alexey Alexandrovitch to +accept the bow on his own account, and to recognize it or not, as +he might see fit. + +"Thank you, very good," she answered. + +Her face looked weary, and there was not that play of eagerness +in it, peeping out in her smile and her eyes; but for a single +instant, as she glanced at him, there was a flash of something in +her eyes, and although the flash died away at once, he was happy +for that moment. She glanced at her husband to find out whether +he knew Vronsky. Alexey Alexandrovitch looked at Vronsky with +displeasure, vaguely recalling who this was. Vronsky's composure +and self-confidence here struck, like a scythe against a stone, +upon the cold self-confidence of Alexey Alexandrovitch. + +"Count Vronsky," said Anna. + +"Ah! We are acquainted, I believe," said Alexey Alexandrovitch +indifferently, giving his hand. + +"You set off with the mother and you return with the son," he +said, articulating each syllable, as though each were a separate +favor he was bestowing. + +"You're back from leave, I suppose?" he said, and without waiting +for a reply, he turned to his wife in his jesting tone: "Well, +were a great many tears shed at Moscow at parting?" + +By addressing his wife like this he gave Vronsky to understand +that he wished to be left alone, and, turning slightly towards +him, he touched his hat; but Vronsky turned to Anna Arkadyevna. + +"I hope I may have the honor of calling on you," he said. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch glanced with his weary eyes at Vronsky. + +"Delighted," he said coldly. "On Mondays we're at home. Most +fortunate," he said to his wife, dismissing Vronsky altogether, +"that I should just have half an hour to meet you, so that I can +prove my devotion," he went on in the same jesting tone. + +"You lay too much stress on your devotion for me to value it +much," she responded in the same jesting tone, involuntarily +listening to the sound of Vronsky's steps behind them. "But what +has it to do with me?" she said to herself, and she began asking +her husband how Seryozha had got on without her. + +"Oh, capitally! Mariette says he has been very good, And...I +must disappoint you...but he has not missed you as your husband +has. But once more _merci,_ my dear, for giving me a day. Our +dear _Samovar_ will be delighted." (He used to call the Countess +Lidia Ivanovna, well known in society, a samovar, because she was +always bubbling over with excitement.) "She has been continually +asking after you. And, do you know, if I may venture to advise +you, you should go and see her today. You know how she takes +everything to heart. Just now, with all her own cares, she's +anxious about the Oblonskys being brought together." + +The Countess Lidia Ivanovna was a friend of her husband's, and +the center of that one of the coteries of the Petersburg world +with which Anna was, through her husband, in the closest +relations. + +"But you know I wrote to her?" + +"Still she'll want to hear details. Go and see her, if you're +not too tired, my dear. Well, Kondraty will take you in the +carriage, while I go to my committee. I shall not be alone at +dinner again," Alexey Alexandrovitch went on, no longer in a +sarcastic tone. "You wouldn't believe how I've missed..." And +with a long pressure of her hand and a meaning smile, he put her +in her carriage. + + + + +Chapter 32 + + +The first person to meet Anna at home was her son. He dashed +down the stairs to her, in spite of the governess's call, and +with desperate joy shrieked: "Mother! mother!" Running up to +her, he hung on her neck. + +"I told you it was mother!" he shouted to the governess. "I +knew!" + +And her son, like her husband, aroused in Anna a feeling akin to +disappointment. She had imagined him better than he was in +reality. She had to let herself drop down to the reality to +enjoy him as he really was. But even as he was, he was charming, +with his fair curls, his blue eyes, and his plump, graceful +little legs in tightly pulled-up stockings. Anna experienced +almost physical pleasure in the sensation of his nearness, and +his caresses, and moral soothing, when she met his simple, +confiding, and loving glance, and heard his naive questions. +Anna took out the presents Dolly's children had sent him, and +told her son what sort of little girl was Tanya at Moscow, and +how Tanya could read, and even taught the other children. + +"Why, am I not so nice as she?" asked Seryozha. + +"To me you're nicer than anyone in the world." + +"I know that," said Seryozha, smiling. + +Anna had not had time to drink her coffee when the Countess Lidia +Ivanovna was announced. The Countess Lidia Ivanovna was a tall, +stout woman, with an unhealthily sallow face and splendid, +pensive black eyes. Anna liked her, but today she seemed to be +seeing her for the first time with all her defects. + +"Well, my dear, so you took the olive branch?" inquired Countess +Lidia Ivanovna, as soon as she came into the room. + +"Yes, it's all over, but it was all much less serious than we had +supposed," answered Anna. "My _belle-soeur_ is in general too +hasty." + +But Countess Lidia Ivanovna, though she was interested in +everything that did not concern her, had a habit of never +listening to what interested her; she interrupted Anna: + +"Yes, there's plenty of sorrow and evil in the world. I am so +worried today." + +"Oh, why?" asked Anna, trying to suppress a smile. + +"I'm beginning to be weary of fruitlessly championing the truth, +and sometimes I'm quite unhinged by it. The Society of the +Little Sisters" (this was a religiously-patriotic, philanthropic +institution) "was going splendidly, but with these gentlemen it's +impossible to do anything," added Countess Lidia Ivanovna in a +tone of ironical submission to destiny. "They pounce on the +idea, and distort it, and then work it out so pettily and +unworthily. Two or three people, your husband among them, +understand all the importance of the thing, but the others simply +drag it down. Yesterday Pravdin wrote to me..." + +Pravdin was a well-known Panslavist abroad, and Countess Lidia +Ivanovna described the purport of his letter. + +Then the countess told her of more disagreements and intrigues +against the work of the unification of the churches, and departed +in haste, as she had that day to be at the meeting of some +society and also at the Slavonic committee. + +"It was all the same before, of course; but why was it I didn't +notice it before?" Anna asked herself. "Or has she been very +much irritated today? It's really ludicrous; her object is doing +good; she a Christian, yet she's always angry; and she always has +enemies, and always enemies in the name of Christianity and doing +good." + +After Countess Lidia Ivanovna another friend came, the wife of a +chief secretary, who told her all the news of the town. At three +o'clock she too went away, promising to come to dinner. Alexey +Alexandrovitch was at the ministry. Anna, left alone, spent the +time till dinner in assisting at her son's dinner (he dined apart +from his parents) and in putting her things in order, and in +reading and answering the notes and letters which had accumulated +on her table. + +The feeling of causeless shame, which she had felt on the +journey, and her excitement, too, had completely vanished. In +the habitual conditions of her life she felt again resolute and +irreproachable. + +She recalled with wonder her state of mind on the previous day. +"What was it? Nothing. Vronsky said something silly, which it +was easy to put a stop to, and I answered as I ought to have +done. To speak of it to my husband would be unnecessary and out +of the question. To speak of it would be to attach importance to +what has no importance." She remembered how she had told her +husband of what was almost a declaration made her at Petersburg +by a young man, one of her husband's subordinates, and how Alexey +Alexandrovitch had answered that every woman living in the world +was exposed to such incidents, but that he had the fullest +confidence in her tact, and could never lower her and himself by +jealousy. "So then there's no reason to speak of it? And +indeed, thank God, there's nothing to speak of," she told +herself. + + + +Chapter 33 + + +Alexey Alexandrovitch came back from the meeting of the ministers +at four o'clock, but as often happened, he had not time to come +in to her. He went into his study to see the people waiting for +him with petitions, and to sign some papers brought him by his +chief secretary. At dinner time (there were always a few people +dining with the Karenins) there arrived an old lady, a cousin of +Alexey Alexandrovitch, the chief secretary of the department and +his wife, and a young man who had been recommended to Alexey +Alexandrovitch for the service. Anna went into the drawing room +to receive these guests. Precisely at five o'clock, before the +bronze Peter the First clock had struck the fifth stroke, Alexey +Alexandrovitch came in, wearing a white tie and evening coat with +two stars, as he had to go out directly after dinner. Every +minute of Alexey Alexandrovitch's life was portioned out and +occupied. And to make time to get through all that lay before +him every day, he adhered to the strictest punctuality. +"Unhasting and unresting," was his motto. He came into the +dining hall, greeted everyone, and hurriedly sat down, smiling to +his wife. + +"Yes, my solitude is over. You wouldn't believe how +uncomfortable" (he laid stress on the word _uncomfortable_) "it +is to dine alone." + +At dinner he talked a little to his wife about Moscow matters, +and, with a sarcastic smile, asked her after Stepan Arkadyevitch; +but the conversation was for the most part general, dealing with +Petersburg official and public news. After dinner he spent half +an hour with his guests, and again, with a smile, pressed his +wife's hand, withdrew, and drove off to the council. Anna did +not go out that evening either to the Princess Betsy Tverskaya, +who, hearing of her return, had invited her, nor to the theater, +where she had a box for that evening. She did not go out +principally because the dress she had reckoned upon was not +ready. Altogether, Anna, on turning, after the departure of her +guests, to the consideration of her attire, was very much +annoyed. She was generally a mistress of the art of dressing +well without great expense, and before leaving Moscow she had +given her dressmaker three dresses to transform. The dresses had +to be altered so that they could not be recognized, and they +ought to have been ready three days before. It appeared that two +dresses had not been done at all, while the other one had not +been altered as Anna had intended. The dressmaker came to +explain, declaring that it would be better as she had done it, +and Anna was so furious that she felt ashamed when she thought of +it afterwards. To regain her serenity completely she went into +the nursery, and spent the whole evening with her son, put him to +bed herself, signed him with the cross, and tucked him up. She +was glad she had not gone out anywhere, and had spent the evening +so well. She felt so light-hearted and serene, she saw so +clearly that all that had seemed to her so important on her +railway journey was only one of the common trivial incidents of +fashionable life, and that she had no reason to feel ashamed +before anyone else or before herself. Anna sat down at the +hearth with an English novel and waited for her husband. Exactly +at half-past nine she heard his ring, and he came into the room. + +"Here you are at last!" she observed, holding out her hand to +him. + +He kissed her hand and sat down beside her. + +"Altogether then, I see your visit was a success," he said to +her. + +"Oh, yes," she said, and she began telling him about everything +from the beginning: her journey with Countess Vronskaya, her +arrival, the accident at the station. Then she described the +pity she had felt, first for her brother, and afterwards for +Dolly. + +"I imagine one cannot exonerate such a man from blame, though he +is your brother," said Alexey Alexandrovitch severely. + +Anna smiled. She knew that he said that simply to show that +family considerations could not prevent him from expressing his +genuine opinion. She knew that characteristic in her husband, +and liked it. + +"I am glad it has all ended so satisfactorily, and that you are +back again," he went on. "Come, what do they say about the new +act I have got passed in the council?" + +Anna had heard nothing of this act, And she felt +conscience-stricken at having been able so readily to forget what +was to him of such importance. + +"Here, on the other hand, it has made a great sensation," he +said, with a complacent smile. + +She saw that Alexey Alexandrovitch wanted to tell her something +pleasant to him about it, and she brought him by questions to +telling it. With the same complacent smile he told her of the +ovations he had received in consequence of the act he had +passed. + +"I was very, very glad. It shows that at last a reasonable and +steady view of the matter is becoming prevalent among us." + +Having drunk his second cup of tea with cream, and bread, Alexey +Alexandrovitch got up, and was going towards his study. + +"And you've not been anywhere this evening? You've been dull, I +expect?" he said. + +"Oh, no!" she answered, getting up after him and accompanying him +across the room to his study. "What are you reading now?" she +asked. + +"Just now I'm reading Duc de Lille, _Poesie des Enfers,_" +he answered. "A very remarkable book." + +Anna smiled, as people smile at the weaknesses of those they +love, and, putting her hand under his, she escorted him to the +door of the study. She knew his habit, that had grown into a +necessity, of reading in the evening. She knew, too, that in +spite of his official duties, which swallowed up almost the whole +of his time, he considered it his duty to keep up with everything +of note that appeared in the intellectual world. She knew, too, +that he was really interested in books dealing with politics, +philosophy, and theology, that art was utterly foreign to his +nature; but, in spite of this, or rather, in consequence of it, +Alexey Alexandrovitch never passed over anything in the world of +art, but made it his duty to read everything. She knew that in +politics, in philosophy, in theology, Alexey Alexandrovitch often +had doubts, and made investigations; but on questions of art and +poetry, and, above all, of music, of which he was totally devoid +of understanding, he had the most distinct and decided opinions. +He was fond of talking about Shakespeare, Raphael, Beethoven, of +the significance of new schools of poetry and music, all of which +were classified by him with very conspicuous consistency. + +"Well, God be with you," she said at the door of the study, where +a shaded candle and a decanter of water were already put by his +armchair. "And I'll write to Moscow." + +He pressed her hand, and again kissed it. + +"All the same he's a good man; truthful, good-hearted, and +remarkable in his own line," Anna said to herself going back to +her room, as though she were defending him to someone who had +attacked him and said that one could not love him. "But why is +it his ears stick out so strangely? Or has he had his hair cut?" + +Precisely at twelve o'clock, when Anna was still sitting at her +writing table, finishing a letter to Dolly, she heard the sound +of measured steps in slippers, and Alexey Alexandrovitch, freshly +washed and combed, with a book under his arm, came in to her. + +"It's time, it's time," said he, with a meaning smile, and he +went into their bedroom. + +"And what right had he to look at him like that?" thought Anna, +recalling Vronsky's glance at Alexey Alexandrovitch. + +Undressing, she went into the bedroom; but her face had none of +the eagerness which, during her stay in Moscow, had fairly +flashed from her eyes and her smile; on the contrary, now the +fire seemed quenched in her, hidden somewhere far away. + + + +Chapter 34 + + +When Vronsky went to Moscow from Petersburg, he had left his +large set of rooms in Morskaia to his friend and favorite comrade +Petritsky. + +Petritsky was a young lieutenant, not particularly +well-connected, and not merely not wealthy, but always hopelessly +in debt. Towards evening he was always drunk, and he had often +been locked up after all sorts of ludicrous and disgraceful +scandals, but he was a favorite both of his comrades and his +superior officers. On arriving at twelve o'clock from the +station at his flat, Vronsky saw, at the outer door, a hired +carriage familiar to him. While still outside his own door, as +he rang, he heard masculine laughter, the lisp of a feminine +voice, and Petritsky's voice. "If that's one of the villains, +don't let him in!" Vronsky told the servant not to announce him, +and slipped quietly into the first room. Baroness Shilton, a +friend of Petritsky's, with a rosy little face and flaxen hair, +resplendent in a lilac satin gown, and filling the whole room, +like a canary, with her Parisian chatter, sat at the round table +making coffee. Petritsky, in his overcoat, and the cavalry +captain Kamerovsky, in full uniform, probably just come from +duty, were sitting each side of her. + +"Bravo! Vronsky!" shouted Petritsky, jumping up, scraping his +chair. "Our host himself! Baroness, some coffee for him out of +the new coffee pot. Why, we didn't expect you! Hope you're +satisfied with the ornament of your study," he said, indicating +the baroness. "You know each other, of course?" + +"I should think so," said Vronsky, with a bright smile, pressing +the baroness's little hand. "What next! I'm an old friend." + +"You're home after a journey," said the baroness, "so I'm flying. +Oh, I'll be off this minute, if I'm in the way." + +"You're home, wherever you are, baroness," said Vronsky. "How do +you do, Kamerovsky?" he added, coldly shaking hands with +Kamerovsky. + +"There, you never know how to say such pretty things," said the +baroness, turning to Petritsky. + +"No; what's that for? After dinner I say things quite as good." + +"After dinner there's no credit in them? Well, then, I'll make +you some coffee, so go and wash and get ready," said the +baroness, sitting down again, and anxiously turning the screw in +the new coffee pot. "Pierre, give me the coffee," she said, +addressing Petritsky, whom she called Pierre as a contraction of +his surname, making no secret of her relations with him. "I'll +put it in." + +"You'll spoil it!" + +"No, I won't spoil it! Well, and your wife?" said the baroness +suddenly, interrupting Vronsky's conversation with his comrade. +"We've been marrying you here. Have you brought your wife?" + +"No, baroness. I was born a Bohemian, and a Bohemian I shall +die." + +"So much the better, so much the better. Shake hands on it." + +And the baroness, detaining Vronsky, began telling him, with many +jokes, about her last new plans of life, asking his advice. + +"He persists in refusing to give me a divorce! Well, what am I +to do?" (_He_ was her husband.) "Now I want to begin a suit +against him. What do you advise? Kamerovsky, look after the +coffee; it's boiling over. You see, I'm engrossed with business! +I want a lawsuit, because I must have my property. Do you +understand the folly of it, that on the pretext of my being +unfaithful to him," she said contemptuously, "he wants to get the +benefit of my fortune." + +Vronsky heard with pleasure this light-hearted prattle of a +pretty woman, agreed with her, gave her half-joking counsel, and +altogether dropped at once into the tone habitual to him in +talking to such women. In his Petersburg world all people were +divided into utterly opposed classes. One, the lower class, +vulgar, stupid, and, above all, ridiculous people, who believe +that one husband ought to live with the one wife whom he has +lawfully married; that a girl should be innocent, a woman modest, +and a man manly, self-controlled, and strong; that one ought to +bring up one's children, earn one's bread, and pay one's debts; +and various similar absurdities. This was the class of +old-fashioned and ridiculous people. But there was another class +of people, the real people. To this class they all belonged, and +in it the great thing was to be elegant, generous, plucky, gay, +to abandon oneself without a blush to every passion, and to laugh +at everything else. + +For the first moment only, Vronsky was startled after the +impression of a quite different world that he had brought with +him from Moscow. But immediately as though slipping his feet +into old slippers, he dropped back into the light-hearted, +pleasant world he had always lived in. + +The coffee was never really made, but spluttered over every one, +and boiled away, doing just what was required of it--that is, +providing much cause for much noise and laughter, and spoiling a +costly rug and the baroness's gown. + +"Well now, good-bye, or you'll never get washed, and I shall have +on my conscience the worst sin a gentleman can commit. So you +would advise a knife to his throat?" + +"To be sure, and manage that your hand may not be far from his +lips. He'll kiss your hand, and all will end satisfactorily," +answered Vronsky. + +"So at the Francais!" and, with a rustle of her skirts, she +vanished. + +Kamerovsky got up too, and Vronsky, not waiting for him to go, +shook hands and went off to his dressing room. + +While he was washing, Petritsky described to him in brief +outlines his position, as far as it had changed since Vronsky had +left Petersburg. No money at all. His father said he wouldn't +give him any and pay his debts. His tailor was trying to get him +locked up, and another fellow, too, was threatening to get him +locked up. The colonel of the regiment had announced that if +these scandals did not cease he would have to leave. As for the +baroness, he was sick to death of her, especially since she'd +taken to offering continually to lend him money. But he had +found a girl--he'd show her to Vronsky--a marvel, exquisite, in +the strict Oriental style, "genre of the slave Rebecca, don't +you know." He'd had a row, too, with Berkoshov, and was going to +send seconds to him, but of course it would come to nothing. +Altogether everything was supremely amusing and jolly. And, not +letting his comrade enter into further details of his position, +Petritsky proceeded to tell him all the interesting news. As he +listened to Petritsky's familiar stories in the familiar setting +of the rooms he had spent the last three years in, Vronsky felt a +delightful sense of coming back to the careless Petersburg life +that he was used to. + +"Impossible!" he cried, letting down the pedal of the washing +basin in which he had been sousing his healthy red neck. +"Impossible!" he cried, at the news that Laura had flung over +Fertinghof and had made up to Mileev. "And is he as stupid and +pleased as ever? Well, and how's Buzulukov?" + +"Oh, there is a tale about Buzulukov--simply lovely!" cried +Petritsky. "You know his weakness for balls, and he never misses +a single court ball. He went to a big ball in a new helmet. +Have you seen the new helmets? Very nice, lighter. Well, so +he's standing.... No, I say, do listen." + +"I am listening," answered Vronsky, rubbing himself with a rough +towel. + +"Up comes the Grand Duchess with some ambassador or other, and, +as ill-luck would have it, she begins talking to him about the +new helmets. The Grand Duchess positively wanted to show the new +helmet to the ambassador. They see our friend standing there." +(Petritsky mimicked how he was standing with the helmet.) "The +Grand Duchess asked him to give her the helmet; he doesn't give +it to her. What do you think of that? Well, every one's winking +at him, nodding, frowning--give it to her, do! He doesn't give +it to her. He's mute as a fish. Only picture it!... Well, +the...what's his name, whatever he was...tries to take the helmet +from him...he won't give it up!... He pulls it from him, and +hands it to the Grand Duchess. 'Here, your Highness,' says he, +'is the new helmet.' She turned the helmet the other side up, +And--just picture it!--plop went a pear and sweetmeats out of it, +two pounds of sweetmeats!...He'd been storing them up, the +darling!" + +Vronsky burst into roars of laughter. And long afterwards, when +he was talking of other things, he broke out into his healthy +laugh, showing his strong, close rows of teeth, when he thought +of the helmet. + +Having heard all the news, Vronsky, with the assistance of his +valet, got into his uniform, and went off to report himself. He +intended, when he had done that, to drive to his brother's and to +Betsy's and to pay several visits with a view to beginning to go +into that society where he might meet Madame Karenina. As he +always did in Petersburg, he left home not meaning to return till +late at night. + + + + + +PART TWO + + + + +Chapter 1 + + +At the end of the winter, in the Shtcherbatskys' house, a +consultation was being held, which was to pronounce on the state +of Kitty's health and the measures to be taken to restore her +failing strength. She had been ill, and as spring came on she +grew worse. The family doctor gave her cod liver oil, then iron, +then nitrate of silver, but as the first and the second and the +third were alike in doing no good, and as his advice when spring +came was to go abroad, a celebrated physician was called in. The +celebrated physician, a very handsome man, still youngish, asked +to examine the patient. He maintained, with peculiar +satisfaction, it seemed, that maiden modesty is a mere relic of +barbarism, and that nothing could be more natural than for a man +still youngish to handle a young girl naked. He thought it +natural because he did it every day, and felt and thought, as it +seemed to him, no harm as he did it and consequently he +considered modesty in the girl not merely as a relic of +barbarism, but also as an insult to himself. + +There was nothing for it but to submit, since, although all the +doctors had studied in the same school, had read the same books, +and learned the same science, and though some people said this +celebrated doctor was a bad doctor, in the princess's household +and circle it was for some reason accepted that this celebrated +doctor alone had some special knowledge, and that he alone could +save Kitty. After a careful examination and sounding of the +bewildered patient, dazed with shame, the celebrated doctor, +having scrupulously washed his hands, was standing in the drawing +room talking to the prince. The prince frowned and coughed, +listening to the doctor. As a man who had seen something of +life, and neither a fool nor an invalid, he had no faith in +medicine, and in his heart was furious at the whole farce, +specially as he was perhaps the only one who fully comprehended +the cause of Kitty's illness. "Conceited blockhead!" he thought, +as he listened to the celebrated doctor's chatter about his +daughter's symptoms. The doctor was meantime with difficulty +restraining the expression of his contempt for this old +gentleman, and with difficulty condescending to the level of his +intelligence. He perceived that it was no good talking to the +old man, and that the principal person in the house was the +mother. Before her he decided to scatter his pearls. At that +instant the princess came into the drawing room with the family +doctor. The prince withdrew, trying not to show how ridiculous +he thought the whole performance. The princess was distracted, +and did not know what to do. She felt she had sinned against +Kitty. + +"Well, doctor, decide our fate," said the princess. "Tell me +everything." + +"Is there hope?" she meant to say, but her lips quivered, and she +could not utter the question. "Well, doctor?" + +"Immediately, princess. I will talk it over with my colleague, +and then I will have the honor of laying my opinion before you." + +"So we had better leave you?" + +"As you please." + +The princess went out with a sigh. + +When the doctors were left alone, the family doctor began timidly +explaining his opinion, that there was a commencement of +tuberculous trouble, but...and so on. The celebrated doctor +listened to him, and in the middle of his sentence looked at his +big gold watch. + +"Yes," said he. "But..." + +The family doctor respectfully ceased in the middle of his +observations. + +"The commencement of the tuberculous process we are not, as you +are aware, able to define; till there are cavities, there is +nothing definite. But we may suspect it. And there are +indications; malnutrition, nervous excitability, and so on. The +question stands thus: in presence of indications of tuberculous +process, what is to be done to maintain nutrition?" + +"But, you know, there are always moral, spiritual causes at the +back in these cases," the family doctor permitted himself to +interpolate with a subtle smile. + +"Yes, that's an understood thing," responded the celebrated +physician, again glancing at his watch. "Beg pardon, is the +Yausky bridge done yet, or shall I have to drive around?" he +asked. "Ah! it is. Oh, well, then I can do it in twenty +minutes. So we were saying the problem may be put thus: to +maintain nutrition and to give tone to the nerves. The one is in +close connection with the other, one must attack both sides at +once." + +"And how about a tour abroad?" asked the family doctor. + +"I've no liking for foreign tours. And take note: if there is +an early stage of tuberculous process, of which we cannot be +certain, a foreign tour will be of no use. What is wanted is +means of improving nutrition, and not for lowering it." And the +celebrated doctor expounded his plan of treatment with Soden +waters, a remedy obviously prescribed primarily on the ground +that they could do no harm. + +The family doctor listened attentively and respectfully. + +"But in favor of foreign travel I would urge the change of +habits, the removal from conditions calling up reminiscences. +And then the mother wishes it," he added. + +"Ah! Well, in that case, to be sure, let them go. Only, those +German quacks are mischievous.... They ought to be persuaded.... +Well, let them go then." + +He glanced once more at his watch. + +"Oh! time's up already," And he went to the door. The celebrated +doctor announced to the princess (a feeling of what was due from +him dictated his doing so) that he ought to see the patient once +more. + +"What! another examination!" cried the mother, with horror. + +"Oh, no, only a few details, princess." + +"Come this way." + +And the mother, accompanied by the doctor, went into the drawing +room to Kitty. Wasted and flushed, with a peculiar glitter in +her eyes, left there by the agony of shame she had been put +through, Kitty stood in the middle of the room. When the doctor +came in she flushed crimson, and her eyes filled with tears. All +her illness and treatment struck her as a thing so stupid, +ludicrous even! Doctoring her seemed to her as absurd as +putting together the pieces of a broken vase. Her heart was +broken. Why would they try to cure her with pills and powders? +But she could not grieve her mother, especially as her mother +considered herself to blame. + +"May I trouble you to sit down, princess?" the celebrated doctor +said to her. + +He sat down with a smile, facing her, felt her pulse, and again +began asking her tiresome questions. She answered him, and all at +once got up, furious. + +"Excuse me, doctor, but there is really no object in this. This +is the third time you've asked me the same thing." + +The celebrated doctor did not take offense. + +"Nervous irritability," he said to the princess, when Kitty had +left the room. "However, I had finished..." + +And the doctor began scientifically explaining to the princess, +as an exceptionally intelligent woman, the condition of the young +princess, and concluded by insisting on the drinking of +the waters, which were certainly harmless. At the question: +Should they go abroad? the doctor plunged into deep meditation, +as though resolving a weighty problem. Finally his decision was +pronounced: they were to go abroad, but to put no faith in +foreign quacks, and to apply to him in any need. + +It seemed as though some piece of good fortune had come to pass +after the doctor had gone. The mother was much more cheerful +when she went back to her daughter, and Kitty pretended to be +more cheerful. She had often, almost always, to be pretending +now. + +"Really, I'm quite well, mamma. But if you want to go abroad, +let's go!" she said, and trying to appear interested in the +proposed tour, she began talking of the preparations for the +journey. + + + +Chapter 2 + + +Soon after the doctor, Dolly had arrived. She knew that there +was to be a consultation that day, and though she was only just +up after her confinement (she had another baby, a little girl, +born at the end of the winter), though she had trouble and +anxiety enough of her own, she had left her tiny baby and a sick +child, to come and hear Kitty's fate, which was to be decided +that day. + +"Well, well?" she said, coming into the drawing room, without +taking off her hat. "You're all in good spirits. Good news, +then?" + +They tried to tell her what the doctor had said, but it appeared +that though the doctor had talked distinctly enough and at great +length, it was utterly impossible to report what he had said. +The only point of interest was that it was settled they should go +abroad. + +Dolly could not help sighing. Her dearest friend, her sister, +was going away. And her life was not a cheerful one. Her +relations with Stepan Arkadyevitch after their reconciliation had +become humiliating. The union Anna had cemented turned out to be +of no solid character, and family harmony was breaking down again +at the same point. There had been nothing definite, but Stepan +Arkadyevitch was hardly ever at home; money, too, was hardly ever +forthcoming, and Dolly was continually tortured by suspicions of +infidelity, which she tried to dismiss, dreading the agonies of +jealousy she had been through already. The first onslaught of +jealousy, once lived through, could never come back again, and +even the discovery of infidelities could never now affect her as +it had the first time. Such a discovery now would only mean +breaking up family habits, and she let herself be deceived, +despising him and still more herself, for the weakness. Besides +this, the care of her large family was a constant worry to her: +first, the nursing of her young baby did not go well, then the +nurse had gone away, now one of the children had fallen ill. + +"Well, how are all of you?" asked her mother. + +"Ah, mamma, we have plenty of troubles of our own. Lili is ill, +and I'm afraid it's scarlatina. I have come here now to hear +about Kitty, and then I shall shut myself up entirely, if--God +forbid--it should be scarlatina." + +The old prince too had come in from his study after the doctor's +departure, and after presenting his cheek to Dolly, and saying a +few words to her, he turned to his wife: + +"How have you settled it? you're going? Well, and what do you +mean to do with me?" + +"I suppose you had better stay here, Alexander," said his wife. + +"That's as you like." + +"Mamma, why shouldn't father come with us?" said Kitty. "It +would be nicer for him and for us too." + +The old prince got up and stroked Kitty's hair. She lifted her +head and looked at him with a forced smile. It always seemed to +her that he understood her better than anyone in the family, +though he did not say much about her. Being the youngest, she +was her father's favorite, and she fancied that his love gave him +insight. When now her glance met his blue kindly eyes looking +intently at her, it seemed to her that he saw right through her, +and understood all that was not good that was passing within her. +Reddening, she stretched out towards him expecting a kiss, but he +only patted her hair and said: + +"These stupid chignons! There's no getting at the real daughter. +One simply strokes the bristles of dead women. Well, Dolinka," +he turned to his elder daughter, "what's your young buck about, +hey?" + +"Nothing, father," answered Dolly, understanding that her husband +was meant. "He's always out; I scarcely ever see him," she could +not resist adding with a sarcastic smile. + +"Why, hasn't he gone into the country yet--to see about selling +that forest?" + +"No, he's still getting ready for the journey." + +"Oh, that's it!" said the prince. "And so am I to be getting +ready for a journey too? At your service," he said to his wife, +sitting down. "And I tell you what, Katia," he went on to his +younger daughter, "you must wake up one fine day and say to +yourself: Why, I'm quite well, and merry, and going out again +with father for an early morning walk in the frost. Hey?" + +What her father said seemed simple enough, yet at these words +Kitty became confused and overcome like a detected criminal. +"Yes, he sees it all, he understands it all, and in these words +he's telling me that though I'm ashamed, I must get over my +shame." She could not pluck up spirit to make any answer. She +tried to begin, and all at once burst into tears, and rushed out +of the room. + +"See what comes of your jokes!" the princess pounced down on her +husband. "You're always..." she began a string of reproaches. + +The prince listened to the princess's scolding rather a long +while without speaking, but his face was more and more frowning. + +"She's so much to be pitied, poor child, so much to be pitied, +and you don't feel how it hurts her to hear the slightest +reference to the cause of it. Ah! to be so mistaken in people!" +said the princess, and by the change in her tone both Dolly and +the prince knew she was speaking of Vronsky. "I don't know why +there aren't laws against such base, dishonorable people." + +"Ah, I can't bear to hear you!" said the prince gloomily, getting +up from his low chair, and seeming anxious to get away, yet +stopping in the doorway. "There are laws, madam, and since +you've challenged me to it, I'll tell you who's to blame for it +all: you and you, you and nobody else. Laws against such young +gallants there have always been, and there still are! Yes, if +there has been nothing that ought not to have been, old as I am, +I'd have called him out to the barrier, the young dandy. Yes, +and now you physic her and call in these quacks." + +The prince apparently had plenty more to say, but as soon as the +princess heard his tone she subsided at once, and became +penitent, as she always did on serious occasions. + +"Alexander, Alexander," she whispered, moving to him and +beginning to weep. + +As soon as she began to cry the prince too calmed down. He went +up to her. + +"There, that's enough, that's enough! You're wretched too, I +know. It can't be helped. There's no great harm done. God is +merciful...thanks..." he said, not knowing what he was saying, as +he responded to the tearful kiss of the princess that he felt on +his hand. And the prince went out of the room. + +Before this, as soon as Kitty went out of the room in tears, +Dolly, with her motherly, family instincts, had promptly +perceived that here a woman's work lay before her, and she +prepared to do it. She took off her hat, and, morally speaking, +tucked up her sleeves and prepared for action. While her mother +was attacking her father, she tried to restrain her mother, so +far as filial reverence would allow. During the prince's +outburst she was silent; she felt ashamed for her mother, and +tender towards her father for so quickly being kind again. But +when her father left them she made ready for what was the chief +thing needful--to go to Kitty and console her. + +"I'd been meaning to tell you something for a long while, mamma: +did you know that Levin meant to make Kitty an offer when he was +here the last time? He told Stiva so." + +"Well, what then? I don't understand..." + +"So did Kitty perhaps refuse him?... She didn't tell you so?" + +"No, she has said nothing to me either of one or the other; she's +too proud. But I know it's all on account of the other." + +"Yes, but suppose she has refused Levin, and she wouldn't have +refused him if it hadn't been for the other, I know. And then, +he has deceived her so horribly." + +It was too terrible for the princess to think how she had sinned +against her daughter, and she broke out angrily. + +"Oh, I really don't understand! Nowadays they will all go their +own way, and mothers haven't a word to say in anything, and +then..." + +"Mamma, I'll go up to her." + +"Well, do. Did I tell you not to?" said her mother. + + + +Chapter 3 + + +When she went into Kitty's little room, a pretty, pink little +room, full of knick-knacks in _vieux saxe,_ as fresh, and pink, +and white, and gay as Kitty herself had been two months ago, +Dolly remembered how they had decorated the room the year before +together, with what love and gaiety. Her heart turned cold when +she saw Kitty sitting on a low chair near the door, her eyes +fixed immovably on a corner of the rug. Kitty glanced at her +sister, and the cold, rather ill-tempered expression of her face +did not change. + +"I'm just going now, and I shall have to keep in and you won't be +able to come to see me," said Dolly, sitting down beside her. "I +want to talk to you." + +"What about?" Kitty asked swiftly, lifting her head in dismay. + +"What should it be, but your trouble?" + +"I have no trouble." + +"Nonsense, Kitty. Do you suppose I could help knowing? I know +all about it. And believe me, it's of so little +consequence.... We've all been through it." + +Kitty did not speak, and her face had a stern expression. + +"He's not worth your grieving over him," pursued Darya +Alexandrovna, coming straight to the point. + +"No, because he has treated me with contempt," said Kitty, in a +breaking voice. "Don't talk of it! Please, don't talk of it!" + +"But who can have told you so? No one has said that. I'm +certain he was in love with you, and would still be in love with +you, if it hadn't... + +"Oh, the most awful thing of all for me is this sympathizing!" +shrieked Kitty, suddenly flying into a passion. She turned round +on her chair, flushed crimson, and rapidly moving her fingers, +pinched the clasp of her belt first with one hand and then with +the other. Dolly knew this trick her sister had of clenching her +hands when she was much excited; she knew, too, that in moments +of excitement Kitty was capable of forgetting herself and saying +a great deal too much, and Dolly would have soothed her, but it +was too late. + +"What, what is it you want to make me feel, eh?" said Kitty +quickly. "That I've been in love with a man who didn't care a +straw for me, and that I'm dying of love for him? And this is +said to me by my own sister, who imagines that...that...that +she's sympathizing with me!...I don't want these condolences +and humbug!" + +"Kitty, you're unjust." + +"Why are you tormenting me?" + +"But I...quite the contrary...I see you're unhappy..." + +But Kitty in her fury did not hear her. + +"I've nothing to grieve over and be comforted about. I am too +proud ever to allow myself to care for a man who does not love +me." + +"Yes, I don't say so either.... Only one thing. Tell me the +truth," said Darya Alexandrovna, taking her by the hand: "tell +me, did Levin speak to you?..." + +The mention of Levin's name seemed to deprive Kitty of the last +vestige of self-control. She leaped up from her chair, and +flinging her clasp on the ground, she gesticulated rapidly with +her hands and said: + +"Why bring Levin in too? I can't understand what you want to +torment me for. I've told you, and I say it again, that I have +some pride, and never, _never_ would I do as you're doing--go back +to a man who's deceived you, who has cared for another woman. I +can't understand it! You may, but I can't!" + +And saying these words she glanced at her sister, and seeing that +Dolly sat silent, her head mournfully bowed, Kitty, instead of +running out of the room as she had meant to do, sat down near the +door, and hid her face in her handkerchief. + +The silence lasted for two minutes: Dolly was thinking of +herself. That humiliation of which she was always conscious came +back to her with a peculiar bitterness when her sister reminded +her of it. She had not looked for such cruelty in her sister, +and she was angry with her. But suddenly she heard the rustle of +a skirt, and with it the sound of heart-rending, smothered +sobbing, and felt arms about her neck. Kitty was on her knees +before her. + +"Dolinka, I am so, so wretched!" she whispered penitently. And +the sweet face covered with tears hid itself in Darya +Alexandrovna's skirt. + +As though tears were the indispensable oil, without which the +machinery of mutual confidence could not run smoothly between the +two sisters, the sisters after their tears talked, not of what +was uppermost in their minds, but, though they talked of outside +matters, they understood each other. Kitty knew that the words +she had uttered in anger about her husband's infidelity and her +humiliating position had cut her poor sister to the heart, but +that she had forgiven her. Dolly for her part knew all she had +wanted to find out. She felt certain that her surmises were +correct; that Kitty's misery, her inconsolable misery, was due +precisely to the fact that Levin had made her an offer and she +had refused him, and Vronsky had deceived her, and that she was +fully prepared to love Levin and to detest Vronsky. Kitty said +not a word of that; she talked of nothing but her spiritual +condition. + +"I have nothing to make me miserable," she said, getting calmer; +"but can you understand that everything has become hateful, +loathsome, coarse to me, and I myself most of all? You can't +imagine what loathsome thoughts I have about everything." + +"Why, whatever loathsome thoughts can you have?" asked Dolly, +smiling. + +"The most utterly loathsome and coarse: I can't tell you. It's +not unhappiness, or low spirits, but much worse. As though +everything that was good in me was all hidden away, and nothing +was left but the most loathsome. Come, how am I to tell you?" +she went on, seeing the puzzled look in her sister's eyes. +"Father began saying something to me just now.... It seems to me +he thinks all I want is to be married. Mother takes me to a +ball: it seems to me she only takes me to get me married off as +soon as may be, and be rid of me. I know it's not the truth, but +I can't drive away such thoughts. Eligible suitors, as they call +them--I can't bear to see them. It seems to me they're taking +stock of me and summing me up. In old days to go anywhere in a +ball dress was a simple joy to me, I admired myself; now I feel +ashamed and awkward. And then! The doctor.... Then..." Kitty +hesitated; she wanted to say further that ever since this change +had taken place in her, Stepan Arkadyevitch had become +insufferably repulsive to her, and that she could not see him +without the grossest and most hideous conceptions rising before +her imagination. + +"Oh, well, everything presents itself to me, in the coarsest, +most loathsome light," she went on. "That's my illness. Perhaps +it will pass off." + +"But you mustn't think about it." + +"I can't help it. I'm never happy except with the children at +your house." + +"What a pity you can't be with me!" + +"Oh, yes, I'm coming. I've had scarlatina, and I'll persuade +mamma to let me." + +Kitty insisted on having her way, and went to stay at her +sister's and nursed the children all through the scarlatina, for +scarlatina it turned out to be. The two sisters brought all the +six children successfully through it, but Kitty was no better in +health, and in Lent the Shtcherbatskys went abroad. + + + +Chapter 4 + + +The highest Petersburg society is essentially one: in it everyone +knows everyone else, everyone even visits everyone else. But +this great set has its subdivisions. Anna Arkadyevna Karenina +had friends and close ties in three different circles of this +highest society. One circle was her husband's government +official set, consisting of his colleagues and subordinates, +brought together in the most various and capricious manner, and +belonging to different social strata. Anna found it difficult +now to recall the feeling of almost awe-stricken reverence which +she had at first entertained for these persons. Now she knew all +of them as people know one another in a country town; she knew +their habits and weaknesses, and where the shoe pinched each one +of them. She knew their relations with one another and with the +head authorities, knew who was for whom, and how each one +maintained his position, and where they agreed and disagreed. +But the circle of political, masculine interests had never +interested her, in spite of countess Lidia Ivanovna's influence, +and she avoided it. + +Another little set with which Anna was in close relations was the +one by means of which Alexey Alexandrovitch had made his career. +The center of this circle was the Countess Lidia Ivanovna. It +was a set made up of elderly, ugly, benevolent, and godly women, +and clever, learned, and ambitious men. One of the clever people +belonging to the set had called it "the conscience of Petersburg +society." Alexey Alexandrovitch had the highest esteem for this +circle, and Anna with her special gift for getting on with +everyone, had in the early days of her life in Petersburg made +friends in this circle also. Now, since her return from Moscow, +she had come to feel this set insufferable. It seemed to her +that both she and all of them were insincere, and she felt so +bored and ill at ease in that world that she went to see the +Countess Lidia Ivanovna as little as possible. + +The third circle with which Anna had ties was preeminently the +fashionable world--the world of balls, of dinners, of sumptuous +dresses, the world that hung on to the court with one hand, so as +to avoid sinking to the level of the demi-monde. For the +demi-monde the members of that fashionable world believed that +they despised, though their tastes were not merely similar, but +in fact identical. Her connection with this circle was kept up +through Princess Betsy Tverskaya, her cousin's wife, who had an +income of a hundred and twenty thousand roubles, and who had +taken a great fancy to Anna ever since she first came out, showed +her much attention, and drew her into her set, making fun of +Countess Lidia Ivanovna's coterie. + +"When I'm old and ugly I'll be the same," Betsy used to say; "but +for a pretty young woman like you it's early days for that house +of charity." + +Anna had at first avoided as far as she could Princess +Tverskaya's world, because it necessitated an expenditure beyond +her means, and besides in her heart she preferred the first +circle. But since her visit to Moscow she had done quite the +contrary. She avoided her serious-minded friends, and went out +into the fashionable world. There she met Vronsky, and +experienced an agitating joy at those meetings. She met Vronsky +specially often at Betsy's for Betsy was a Vronsky by birth and +his cousin. Vronsky was everywhere where he had any chance of +meeting Anna, and speaking to her, when he could, of his love. +She gave him no encouragement, but every time she met him there +surged up in her heart that same feeling of quickened life that +had come upon her that day in the railway carriage when she saw +him for the first time. She was conscious herself that her +delight sparkled in her eyes and curved her lips into a smile, +and she could not quench the expression of this delight. + +At first Anna sincerely believed that she was displeased with him +for daring to pursue her. Soon after her return from Moscow, on +arriving at a soiree where she had expected to meet him, and not +finding him there, she realized distinctly from the rush of +disappointment that she had been deceiving herself, and that this +pursuit was not merely not distasteful to her, but that it made +the whole interest of her life. + +A celebrated singer was singing for the second time, and all the +fashionable world was in the theater. Vronsky, seeing his +cousin from his stall in the front row, did not wait till the +entr'acte, but went to her box. + +"Why didn't you come to dinner?" she said to him. "I marvel at +the second sight of lovers," she added with a smile, so that no +one but he could hear; "_she wasn't there_. But come after the +opera." + +Vronsky looked inquiringly at her. She nodded. He thanked her +by a smile, and sat down beside her. + +"But how I remember your jeers!" continued Princess Betsy, who +took a peculiar pleasure in following up this passion to a +successful issue. "What's become of all that? You're caught, my +dear boy." + +"That's my one desire, to be caught," answered Vronsky, with his +serene, good-humored smile. "If I complain of anything it's only +that I'm not caught enough, to tell the truth. I begin to lose +hope." + +"Why, whatever hope can you have?" said Betsy, offended on behalf +of her friend. "_Enendons nous...._" But in her eyes there were +gleams of light that betrayed that she understood perfectly and +precisely as he did what hope he might have. + +"None whatever," said Vronsky, laughing and showing his even rows +of teeth. "Excuse me," he added, taking an opera glass out of +her hand, and proceeding to scrutinize, over her bare shoulder, +the row of boxes facing them. "I'm afraid I'm becoming +ridiculous." + +He was very well aware that he ran no risk of being ridiculous in +the eyes of Betsy or any other fashionable people. He was very +well aware that in their eyes the position of an unsuccessful +lover of a girl, or of any woman free to marry, might be +ridiculous. But the position of a man pursuing a married woman, +and, regardless of everything, staking his life on drawing her +into adultery, has something fine and grand about it, and can +never be ridiculous; and so it was with a proud and gay smile +under his mustaches that he lowered the opera glass and looked at +his cousin. + +"But why was it you didn't come to dinner?" she said, admiring +him. + +"I must tell you about that. I was busily employed, and doing +what, do you suppose? I'll give you a hundred guesses, a +thousand...you'd never guess. I've been reconciling a husband +with a man who'd insulted his wife. Yes, really!" + +"Well, did you succeed?" + +"Almost." + +"You really must tell me about it," she said, getting up. "Come +to me in the next _entr'acte._" + +"I can't; I'm going to the French theater." + +"From Nilsson?" Betsy queried in horror, though she could not +herself have distinguished Nilsson's voice from any chorus +girl's. + +"Can't help it. I've an appointment there, all to do with my +mission of peace." + +"Blessed are the peacemakers; theirs is the kingdom of heaven,'" +said Betsy, vaguely recollecting she had heard some similar +saying from someone. "Very well, then, sit down, and tell me +what it's all about." + +And she sat down again. + + + + + +Chapter 5 + + +"This is rather indiscreet, but it's so good it's an awful +temptation to tell the story," said Vronsky, looking at her with +his laughing eyes. "I'm not going to mention any names." + +"But I shall guess, so much the better." + +"Well, listen: two festive young men were driving--" + +"Officers of your regiment, of course?" + +"I didn't say they were officers,--two young men who had been +lunching." + +"In other words, drinking." + +"Possibly. They were driving on their way to dinner with a +friend in the most festive state of mind. And they beheld a +pretty woman in a hired sledge; she overtakes them, looks round +at them, and, so they fancy anyway, nods to them and laughs. +They, of course, follow her. They gallop at full speed. To +their amazement, the fair one alights at the entrance of the very +house to which they were going. The fair one darts upstairs to +the top story. They get a glimpse of red lips under a short +veil, and exquisite little feet." + +"You describe it with such feeling that I fancy you must be one +of the two." + +"And after what you said, just now! Well, the young men go in to +their comrade's; he was giving a farewell dinner. There they +certainly did drink a little too much, as one always does at +farewell dinners. And at dinner they inquire who lives at the +top in that house. No one knows; only their host's valet, in +answer to their inquiry whether any 'young ladies' are living on +the top floor, answered that there were a great many of them +about there. After dinner the two young men go into their host's +study, and write a letter to the unknown fair one. They compose +an ardent epistle, a declaration in fact, and they carry the +letter upstairs themselves, so as to elucidate whatever might +appear not perfectly intelligible in the letter." + +"Why are you telling me these horrible stories? Well?" + +"They ring. A maidservant opens the door, they hand her the +letter, and assure the maid that they're both so in love that +they'll die on the spot at the door. The maid, stupefied, +carries in their messages. All at once a gentleman appears with +whiskers like sausages, as red as a lobster, announces that there +is no one living in the flat except his wife, and sends them both +about their business." + +"How do you know he had whiskers like sausages, as you say?" + +"Ah, you shall hear. I've just been to make peace between them." + +"Well, and what then?" + +"That's the most interesting part of the story. It appears that +it's a happy couple, a government clerk and his lady. The +government clerk lodges a complaint, and I became a mediator, and +such a mediator!... I assure you Talleyrand couldn't hold a +candle to me." + +"Why, where was the difficulty?" + +"Ah, you shall hear.... We apologize in due form: we are in +despair, we entreat forgiveness for the unfortunate +misunderstanding. The government clerk with the sausages begins +to melt, but he, too, desires to express his sentiments, and as +soon as ever he begins to express them, he begins to get hot and +say nasty things, and again I'm obliged to trot out all my +diplomatic talents. I allowed that their conduct was bad, but I +urged him to take into consideration their heedlessness, their +youth; then, too, the young men had only just been lunching +together. 'You understand. They regret it deeply, and beg you +to overlook their misbehavior.' The government clerk was +softened once more. 'I consent, count, and am ready to overlook +it; but you perceive that my wife--my wife's a respectable woman +--has been exposed to the persecution, and insults, and +effrontery of young upstarts, scoundrels....' And you must +understand, the young upstarts are present all the while, and I +have to keep the peace between them. Again I call out all my +diplomacy, and again as soon as the thing was about at an end, +our friend the government clerk gets hot and red, and his +sausages stand on end with wrath, and once more I launch out into +diplomatic wiles." + +"Ah, he must tell you this story!" said Betsy, laughing, to a +lady who came into her box. "He has been making me laugh so." + +"Well, _bonne chance_!" she added, giving Vronsky one finger of the +hand in which she held her fan, and with a shrug of her shoulders +she twitched down the bodice of her gown that had worked up, so +as to be duly naked as she moved forward towards the footlights +into the light of the gas, and the sight of all eyes. + +Vronsky drove to the French theater, where he really had to see +the colonel of his regiment, who never missed a single +performance there. He wanted to see him, to report on the result +of his mediation, which had occupied and amused him for the last +three days. Petritsky, whom he liked, was implicated in the +affair, and the other culprit was a capital fellow and first-rate +comrade, who had lately joined the regiment, the young Prince +Kedrov. And what was most important, the interests of the +regiment were involved in it too. + +Both the young men were in Vronsky's company. The colonel of the +regiment was waited upon by the government clerk, Venden, with a +complaint against his officers, who had insulted his wife. His +young wife, so Venden told the story--he had been married half a +year--was at church with her mother, and suddenly overcome by +indisposition, arising from her interesting condition, she could +not remain standing, she drove home in the first sledge, a +smart-looking one, she came across. On the spot the officers set +off in pursuit of her; she was alarmed, and feeling still more +unwell, ran up the staircase home. Venden himself, on returning +from his office, heard a ring at their bell and voices, went out, +and seeing the intoxicated officers with a letter, he had turned +them out. He asked for exemplary punishment. + +"Yes, it's all very well," said the colonel to Vronsky, whom he +had invited to come and see him. "Petritsky's becoming +impossible. Not a week goes by without some scandal. This +government clerk won't let it drop, he'll go on with the thing." + +Vronsky saw all the thanklessness of the business, and that there +could be no question of a duel in it, that everything must be +done to soften the government clerk, and hush the matter up. The +colonel had called in Vronsky just because he knew him to be an +honorable and intelligent man, and, more than all, a man who +cared for the honor of the regiment. They talked it over, and +decided that Petritsky and Kedrov must go with Vronsky to +Venden's to apologize. The colonel and Vronsky were both fully +aware that Vronsky's name and rank would be sure to contribute +greatly to the softening of the injured husband's feelings. + +And these two influences were not in fact without effect; though +the result remained, as Vronsky had described, uncertain. + +On reaching the French theater, Vronsky retired to the foyer with +the colonel, and reported to him his success, or non-success. +The colonel, thinking it all over, made up his mind not to pursue +the matter further, but then for his own satisfaction proceeded +to cross-examine Vronsky about his interview; and it was a long +while before he could restrain his laughter, as Vronsky described +how the government clerk, after subsiding for a while, would +suddenly flare up again, as he recalled the details, and how +Vronsky, at the last half word of conciliation, skillfully +maneuvered a retreat, shoving Petritsky out before him. + +"It's a disgraceful story, but killing. Kedrov really can't +fight the gentleman! Was he so awfully hot?" he commented, +laughing. "But what do you say to Claire today? She's +marvelous," he went on, speaking of a new French actress. +"However often you see her, every day she's different. It's only +the French who can do that." + + + +Chapter 6 + + +Princess Betsy drove home from the theater, without waiting for +the end of the last act. She had only just time to go into her +dressing room, sprinkle her long, pale face with powder, rub it, +set her dress to rights, and order tea in the big drawing room, +when one after another carriages drove up to her huge house in +Bolshaia Morskaia. Her guests stepped out at the wide entrance, +and the stout porter, who used to read the newspapers in the +mornings behind the glass door, to the edification of the +passers-by, noiselessly opened the immense door, letting the +visitors pass by him into the house. + +Almost at the same instant the hostess, with freshly arranged +coiffure and freshened face, walked in at one door and her guests +at the other door of the drawing room, a large room with dark +walls, downy rugs, and a brightly lighted table, gleaming with +the light of candles, white cloth, silver samovar, and +transparent china tea things. + +The hostess sat down at the table and took off her gloves. +Chairs were set with the aid of footmen, moving almost +imperceptibly about the room; the party settled itself, divided +into two groups: one round the samovar near the hostess, the +other at the opposite end of the drawing room, round the handsome +wife of an ambassador, in black velvet, with sharply defined +black eyebrows. In both groups conversation wavered, as it +always does, for the first few minutes, broken up by meetings, +greetings, offers of tea, and as it were, feeling about for +something to rest upon. + +"She's exceptionally good as an actress; one can see she's +studied Kaulbach," said a diplomatic attache in the group round +the ambassador's wife. "Did you notice how she fell down?..." + +"Oh, please, don't let us talk about Nilsson! No one can +possibly say anything new about her," said a fat, red-faced, +flaxen-headed lady, without eyebrows and chignon, wearing an old +silk dress. This was Princess Myakaya, noted for her simplicity +and the roughness of her manners, and nicknamed _enfant terrible_. +Princess Myakaya, sitting in the middle between the two groups, +and listening to both, took part in the conversation first of one +and then of the other. "Three people have used that very phrase +about Kaulbach to me today already, just as though they had made +a compact about it. And I can't see why they liked that remark +so." + +The conversation was cut short by this observation, and a new +subject had to be thought of again. + +"Do tell me something amusing but not spiteful," said the +ambassador's wife, a great proficient in the art of that elegant +conversation called by the English, _small talk_. She addressed +the attache, who was at a loss now what to begin upon. + +"They say that that's a difficult task, that nothing's amusing +that isn't spiteful," he began with a smile. "But I'll try. Get +me a subject. It all lies in the subject. If a subject's given +me, it's easy to spin something round it. I often think that the +celebrated talkers of the last century would have found it +difficult to talk cleverly now. Everything clever is so +stale..." + +"That has been said long ago," the ambassador's wife interrupted +him, laughing. + +The conversation began amiably, but just because it was too +amiable, it came to a stop again. They had to have recourse to +the sure, never-failing topic--gossip. + +"Don't you think there's something Louis Quinze about +Tushkevitch?" he said, glancing towards a handsome, fair-haired +young man, standing at the table. + +"Oh, yes! He's in the same style as the drawing room and that's +why it is he's so often here." + +This conversation was maintained, since it rested on allusions to +what could not be talked of in that room--that is to say, of the +relations of Tushkevitch with their hostess. + +Round the samovar and the hostess the conversation had been +meanwhile vacillating in just the same way between three +inevitable topics: the latest piece of public news, the +theater, and scandal. It, too, came finally to rest on the last +topic, that is, ill-natured gossip. + +"Have you heard the Maltishtcheva woman--the mother, not the +daughter--has ordered a costume in _diable rose_ color?" + +"Nonsense! No, that's too lovely!" + +"I wonder that with her sense--for she's not a fool, you know-- +that she doesn't see how funny she is." + +Everyone had something to say in censure or ridicule of the +luckless Madame Maltishtcheva, and the conversation crackled +merrily, like a burning faggot-stack. + +The husband of Princess Betsy, a good-natured fat man, an ardent +collector of engravings, hearing that his wife had visitors, came +into the drawing room before going to his club. Stepping +noiselessly over the thick rugs, he went up to Princess Myakaya. + +"How did you like Nilsson?" he asked. + +"Oh, how can you steal upon anyone like that! How you startled +me!" she responded. "Please don't talk to me about the opera; +you know nothing about music. I'd better meet you on your own +ground, and talk about your majolica and engravings. Come now, +what treasure have you been buying lately at the old curiosity +shops?" + +"Would you like me to show you? But you don't understand such +things." + +"Oh, do show me! I've been learning about them at those--what's +their names?...the bankers...they've some splendid engravings. +They showed them to us." + +"Why, have you been at the Schuetzburgs?" asked the hostess from +the samovar. + +"Yes, _ma chere_. They asked my husband and me to dinner, and told +us the sauce at that dinner cost a hundred pounds," Princess +Myakaya said, speaking loudly, and conscious everyone was +listening; "and very nasty sauce it was, some green mess. We had +to ask them, and I made them sauce for eighteen pence, and +everybody was very much pleased with it. I can't run to +hundred-pound sauces." + +"She's unique!" said the lady of the house. + +"Marvelous!" said someone. + +The sensation produced by Princess Myakaya's speeches was always +unique, and the secret of the sensation she produced lay in the +fact that though she spoke not always appropriately, as now, she +said simple things with some sense in them. In the society in +which she lived such plain statements produced the effect of the +wittiest epigram. Princess Myakaya could never see why it had +that effect, but she knew it had, and took advantage of it. + +As everyone had been listening while Princess Myakaya spoke, and +so the conversation around the ambassador's wife had dropped, +Princess Betsy tried to bring the whole party together, and +turned to the ambassador's wife. + +"Will you really not have tea? You should come over here by us." + +"No, we're very happy here," the ambassador's wife responded with +a smile, and she went on with the conversation that had been +begun. + +"It was a very agreeable conversation. They were criticizing the +Karenins, husband and wife. + +"Anna is quite changed since her stay in Moscow. There's +something strange about her," said her friend. + +"The great change is that she brought back with her the shadow of +Alexey Vronsky," said the ambassador's wife. + +"Well, what of it? There's a fable of Grimm's about a man +without a shadow, a man who's lost his shadow. And that's his +punishment for something. I never could understand how it was a +punishment. But a woman must dislike being without a shadow." + +"Yes, but women with a shadow usually come to a bad end," said +Anna's friend. + +"Bad luck to your tongue!" said Princess Myakaya suddenly. +"Madame Karenina's a splendid woman. I don't like her husband, +but I like her very much." + +"Why don't you like her husband? He's such a remarkable man," +said the ambassador's wife. "My husband says there are few +statesmen like him in Europe." + +"And my husband tells me just the same, but I don't believe it," +said Princess Myakaya. "If our husbands didn't talk to us, we +should see the facts as they are. Alexey Alexandrovitch, to my +thinking, is simply a fool. I say it in a whisper...but doesn't +it really make everything clear? Before, when I was told to +consider him clever, I kept looking for his ability, and thought +myself a fool for not seeing it; but directly I said, _he's a fool,_ +though only in a whisper, everything's explained, isn't it?" + +"How spiteful you are today!" + +"Not a bit. I'd no other way out of it. One of the two had to +be a fool. And, well, you know one can't say that of oneself." + +"'No one is satisfied with his fortune, and everyone is +satisfied with his wit.'" The attache repeated the French +saying. + +"That's just it, just it," Princess Myakaya turned to him. "But +the point is that I won't abandon Anna to your mercies. She's so +nice, so charming. How can she help it if they're all in love +with her, and follow her about like shadows?" + +"Oh, I had no idea of blaming her for it," Anna's friend said in +self-defense. + +"If no one follows us about like a shadow, that's no proof that +we've any right to blame her." + +And having duly disposed of Anna's friend, the Princess Myakaya +got up, and together with the ambassador's wife, joined the group +at the table, where the conversation was dealing with the king of +Prussia. + +"What wicked gossip were you talking over there?" asked Betsy. + +"About the Karenins. The princess gave us a sketch of Alexey +Alexandrovitch," said the ambassador's wife with a smile, as she +sat down at the table. + +"Pity we didn't hear it!" said Princess Betsy, glancing towards +the door. "Ah, here you are at last!" she said, turning with a +smile to Vronsky, as he came in. + +Vronsky was not merely acquainted with all the persons whom he +was meeting here; he saw them all every day; and so he came in +with the quiet manner with which one enters a room full of people +from whom one has only just parted. + +"Where do I come from?" he said, in answer to a question from the +ambassador's wife. "Well, there's no help for it, I must +confess. From the _opera bouffe_. I do believe I've seen it a +hundred times, and always with fresh enjoyment. It's exquisite! +I know it's disgraceful, but I go to sleep at the opera, and I +sit out the _opera bouffe_ to the last minute, and enjoy it. +This evening..." + +He mentioned a French actress, and was going to tell something +about her; but the ambassador's wife, with playful horror, cut +him short. + +"Please don't tell us about that horror." + +"All right, I won't especially as everyone knows those horrors." + +"And we should all go to see them if it were accepted as the +correct thing, like the opera," chimed in Princess Myakaya. + + + +Chapter 7 + + +Steps were heard at the door, and Princess Betsy, knowing it was +Madame Karenina, glanced at Vronsky. He was looking towards the +door, and his face wore a strange new expression. Joyfully, +intently, and at the same time timidly, he gazed at the +approaching figure, and slowly he rose to his feet. Anna walked +into the drawing room. Holding herself extremely erect, as +always, looking straight before her, and moving with her swift, +resolute, and light step, that distinguished her from all other +society women, she crossed the short space to her hostess, shook +hands with her, smiled, and with the same smile looked around at +Vronsky. Vronsky bowed low and pushed a chair up for her. + +She acknowledged this only by a slight nod, flushed a little, and +frowned. But immediately, while rapidly greeting her +acquaintances, and shaking the hands proffered to her, she +addressed Princess Betsy: + +"I have been at Countess Lidia's, and meant to have come here +earlier, but I stayed on. Sir John was there. He's very +interesting." + +"Oh, that's this missionary?" + +"Yes; he told us about the life in India, most interesting +things." + +The conversation, interrupted by her coming in, flickered up +again like the light of a lamp being blown out. + +"Sir John! Yes, Sir John; I've seen him. He speaks well. The +Vlassieva girl's quite in love with him." + +"And is it true the younger Vlassieva girl's to marry Topov?" + +"Yes, they say it's quite a settled thing." + +"I wonder at the parents! They say it's a marriage for love." + +"For love? What antediluvian notions you have! Can one talk of +love in these days?" said the ambassador's wife. + +"What's to be done? It's a foolish old fashion that's kept up +still," said Vronsky. + +"So much the worse for those who keep up the fashion. The only +happy marriages I know are marriages of prudence." + +"Yes, but then how often the happiness of these prudent marriages +flies away like dust just because that passion turns up that they +have refused to recognize," said Vronsky. + +"But by marriages of prudence we mean those in which both parties +have sown their wild oats already. That's like scarlatina--one +has to go through it and get it over." + +"Then they ought to find out how to vaccinate for love, like +smallpox." + +"I was in love in my young days with a deacon," said the Princess +Myakaya. "I don't know that it did me any good." + +"No; I imagine, joking apart, that to know love, one must make +mistakes and then correct them," said Princess Betsy. + +"Even after marriage?" said the ambassador's wife playfully. + +"'It's never too late to mend.'" The attache repeated the +English proverb. + +"Just so," Betsy agreed; "one must make mistakes and correct +them. What do you think about it?" she turned to Anna, who, with +a faintly perceptible resolute smile on her lips, was listening +in silence to the conversation. + +"I think," said Anna, playing with the glove she had taken off, +"I think...of so many men, so many minds, certainly so many +hearts, so many kinds of love." + +Vronsky was gazing at Anna, and with a fainting heart waiting for +what she would say. He sighed as after a danger escaped when she +uttered these words. + +Anna suddenly turned to him. + +"Oh, I have had a letter from Moscow. They write me that Kitty +Shtcherbatskaya's very ill." + +"Really?" said Vronsky, knitting his brows. + +Anna looked sternly at him. + +"That doesn't interest you?" + +"On the contrary, it does, very much. What was it exactly they +told you, if I may know?" he questioned. + +Anna got up and went to Betsy. + +"Give me a cup of tea," she said, standing at her table. + +While Betsy was pouring out the tea, Vronsky went up to Anna. + +"What is it they write to you?" he repeated. + +"I often think men have no understanding of what's not honorable +though they're always talking of it," said Anna, without +answering him. "I've wanted to tell you so a long while," she +added, and moving a few steps away, she sat down at a table in a +corner covered with albums. + +"I don't quite understand the meaning of your words," he said, +handing her the cup. + +She glanced towards the sofa beside her, and he instantly sat +down. + +"Yes, I have been wanting to tell you," she said, not looking at +him. "You behaved wrongly, very wrongly." + +"Do you suppose I don't know that I've acted wrongly? But who +was the cause of my doing so?" + +"What do you say that to me for?" she said, glancing severely at +him. + +"You know what for," he answered boldly and joyfully, meeting her +glance and not dropping his eyes. + +Not he, but she, was confused. + +"That only shows you have no heart," she said. But her eyes said +that she knew he had a heart, and that was why she was afraid of +him. + +"What you spoke of just now was a mistake, and not love." + +"Remember that I have forbidden you to utter that word, that +hateful word," said Anna, with a shudder. But at once she felt +that by that very word "forbidden" she had shown that she +acknowledged certain rights over him, and by that very fact was +encouraging him to speak of love. "I have long meant to tell you +this," she went on, looking resolutely into his eyes, and hot all +over from the burning flush on her cheeks. "I've come on purpose +this evening, knowing I should meet you. I have come to tell you +that this must end. I have never blushed before anyone, and you +force me to feel to blame for something." + +He looked at her and was struck by a new spiritual beauty in her +face. + +"What do you wish of me?" he said simply and seriously. + +"I want you to go to Moscow and ask for Kitty's forgiveness," she +said. + +"You don't wish that?" he said. + +He saw she was saying what she forced herself to say, not what +she wanted to say. + +"If you love me, as you say," she whispered, "do so that I may +be at peace." + +His face grew radiant. + +"Don't you know that you're all my life to me? But I know no +peace, and I can't give it to you; all myself--and love...yes. I +can't think of you and myself apart. You and I are one to me. +And I see no chance before us of peace for me or for you. I see +a chance of despair, of wretchedness...or I see a chance of +bliss, what bliss!... Can it be there's no chance of it?" he +murmured with his lips; but she heard. + +She strained every effort of her mind to say what ought to be +said. But instead of that she let her eyes rest on him, full of +love, and made no answer. + +"It's come!" he thought in ecstasy. "When I was beginning to +despair, and it seemed there would be no end--it's come! She +loves me! She owns it!" + +"Then do this for me: never say such things to me, and let us be +friends," she said in words; but her eyes spoke quite +differently. + +"Friends we shall never be, you know that yourself. Whether we +shall be the happiest or the wretchedest of people--that's in +your hands." + +She would have said something, but he interrupted her. + +"I ask one thing only: I ask for the right to hope, to suffer as +I do. But if even that cannot be, command me to disappear, and +I disappear. You shall not see me if my presence is distasteful +to you." + +"I don't want to drive you away." + +"Only don't change anything, leave everything as it is," he said +in a shaky voice. "Here's your husband." + +At that instant Alexey Alexandrovitch did in fact walk into the +room with his calm, awkward gait. + +Glancing at his wife and Vronsky, he went up to the lady of the +house, and sitting down for a cup of tea, began talking in his +deliberate, always audible voice, in his habitual tone of banter, +ridiculing someone. + +"Your Rambouillet is in full conclave," he said, looking round at +all the party; "the graces and the muses." + +But Princess Betsy could not endure that tone of his-- +"sneering," as she called it, using the English word, and like a +skillful hostess she at once brought him into a serious +conversation on the subject of universal conscription. Alexey +Alexandrovitch was immediately interested in the subject, and +began seriously defending the new imperial decree against +Princess Betsy, who had attacked it. + +Vronsky and Anna still sat at the little table. + +"This is getting indecorous," whispered one lady, with an +expressive glance at Madame Karenina, Vronsky, and her husband. + +"What did I tell you?" said Anna's friend. + +But not only those ladies, almost everyone in the room, even the +Princess Myakaya and Betsy herself, looked several times in the +direction of the two who had withdrawn from the general circle, +as though that were a disturbing fact. Alexey Alexandrovitch was +the only person who did not once look in that direction, and was +not diverted from the interesting discussion he had entered upon. + +Noticing the disagreeable impression that was being made on +everyone, Princess Betsy slipped someone else into her place to +listen to Alexey Alexandrovitch, and went up to Anna. + +"I'm always amazed at the clearness and precision of your +husband's language," she said. "The most transcendental ideas +seem to be within my grasp when he's speaking." + +"Oh, yes!" said Anna, radiant with a smile of happiness, and not +understanding a word of what Betsy had said. She crossed over to +the big table and took part in the general conversation. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch, after staying half an hour, went up to his +wife and suggested that they should go home together. But she +answered, not looking at him, that she was staying to supper. +Alexey Alexandrovitch made his bows and withdrew. + +The fat old Tatar, Madame Karenina's coachman, was with +difficulty holding one of her pair of grays, chilled with the +cold and rearing at the entrance. A footman stood opening the +carriage door. The hall porter stood holding open the great door +of the house. Anna Arkadyevna, with her quick little hand, was +unfastening the lace of her sleeve, caught in the hook of her fur +cloak, and with bent head listening to the words Vronsky murmured +as he escorted her down. + +"You've said nothing, of course, and I ask nothing," he was +saying; "but you know that friendship's not what I want: that +there's only one happiness in life for me, that word that you +dislike so...yes, love!..." + +"Love," she repeated slowly, in an inner voice, and suddenly, at +the very instant she unhooked the lace, she added, "Why I don't +like the word is that it means too much to me, far more than you +can understand," and she glanced into his face. "_Au revoir!_" + +She gave him her hand, and with her rapid, springy step she +passed by the porter and vanished into the carriage. + +Her glance, the touch of her hand, set him aflame. He kissed the +palm of his hand where she had touched it, and went home, happy +in the sense that he had got nearer to the attainment of his aims +that evening than during the last two months. + + + +Chapter 8 + + +Alexey Alexandrovitch had seen nothing striking or improper in +the fact that his wife was sitting with Vronsky at a table apart, +in eager conversation with him about something. But he noticed +that to the rest of the party this appeared something striking +and improper, and for that reason it seemed to him too to be +improper. He made up his mind that he must speak of it to his +wife. + +On reaching home Alexey Alexandrovitch went to his study, as he +usually did, seated himself in his low chair, opened a book on +the Papacy at the place where he had laid the paper-knife in it, +and read till one o'clock, just as he usually did. But from time +to time he rubbed his high forehead and shook his head, as +though to drive away something. At his usual time he got up and +made his toilet for the night. Anna Arkadyevna had not yet come +in. With a book under his arm he went upstairs. But this +evening, instead of his usual thoughts and meditations upon +official details, his thoughts were absorbed by his wife and +something disagreeable connected with her. Contrary to his usual +habit, he did not get into bed, but fell to walking up and down +the rooms with his hands clasped behind his back. He could not +go to bed, feeling that it was absolutely needful for him first +to think thoroughly over the position that had just arisen. + +When Alexey Alexandrovitch had made up his mind that he must talk +to his wife about it, it had seemed a very easy and simple +matter. But now, when he began to think over the question that +had just presented itself, it seemed to him very complicated and +difficult. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch was not jealous. Jealousy according to +his notions was an insult to one's wife, and one ought to have +confidence in one's wife. Why one ought to have confidence-- +that is to say, complete conviction that his young wife would +always love him--he did not ask himself. But he had no +experience of lack of confidence, because he had confidence in +her, and told himself that he ought to have it. Now, though his +conviction that jealousy was a shameful feeling and that one +ought to feel confidence, had not broken down, he felt that he +was standing face to face with something illogical and +irrational, and did not know what was to be done. Alexey +Alexandrovitch was standing face to face with life, with the +possibility of his wife's loving someone other than himself, and +this seemed to him very irrational and incomprehensible because +it was life itself. All his life Alexey Alexandrovitch had lived +and worked in official spheres, having to do with the reflection +of life. And every time he had stumbled against life itself he +had shrunk away from it. Now he experienced a feeling akin to +that of a man who, while calmly crossing a precipice by a bridge, +should suddenly discover that the bridge is broken, and that +there is a chasm below. That chasm was life itself, the bridge +that artificial life in which Alexey Alexandrovitch had lived. +For the first time the question presented itself to him of the +possibility of his wife's loving someone else, and he was +horrified at it. + +He did not undress, but walked up and down with his regular tread +over the resounding parquet of the dining room, where one lamp +was burning, over the carpet of the dark drawing room, in which +the light was reflected on the big new portrait of himself +hanging over the sofa, and across her boudoir, where two candles +burned, lighting up the portraits of her parents and woman +friends, and the pretty knick-knacks of her writing table, that +he knew so well. He walked across her boudoir to the bedroom +door, and turned back again. At each turn in his walk, +especially at the parquet of the lighted dining room, he halted +and said to himself, "Yes, this I must decide and put a stop to; +I must express my view of it and my decision." And he turned +back again. "But express what--what decision?" he said to +himself in the drawing room, and he found no reply. "But after +all," he asked himself before turning into the boudoir, "what has +occurred? Nothing. She was talking a long while with him. But +what of that? Surely women in society can talk to whom they +please. And then, jealousy means lowering both myself and her," +he told himself as he went into her boudoir; but this dictum, +which had always had such weight with him before, had now no +weight and no meaning at all. And from the bedroom door he +turned back again; but as he entered the dark drawing room some +inner voice told him that it was not so, and that if others +noticed it that showed that there was something. And he said to +himself again in the dining room, "Yes, I must decide and put a +stop to it, and express my view of it..." And again at the turn +in the drawing room he asked himself, "Decide how?" And again +he asked himself, "What had occurred?" and answered, "Nothing," +and recollected that jealousy was a feeling insulting to his +wife; but again in the drawing room he was convinced that +something had happened. His thoughts, like his body, went round +a complete circle, without coming upon anything new. He noticed +this, rubbed his forehead, and sat down in her boudoir. + +There, looking at her table, with the malachite blotting case +lying at the top and an unfinished letter, his thoughts suddenly +changed. He began to think of her, of what she was thinking and +feeling. For the first time he pictured vividly to himself her +personal life, her ideas, her desires, and the idea that she +could and should have a separate life of her own seemed to him so +alarming that he made haste to dispel it. It was the chasm which +he was afraid to peep into. To put himself in thought and +feeling in another person's place was a spiritual exercise not +natural to Alexey Alexandrovitch. He looked on this spiritual +exercise as a harmful and dangerous abuse of the fancy. + +"And the worst of it all," thought he, "is that just now, at the +very moment when my great work is approaching completion" (he was +thinking of the project he was bringing forward at the time), +"when I stand in need of all my mental peace and all my energies, +just now this stupid worry should fall foul of me. But what's to +be done? I'm not one of those men who submit to uneasiness and +worry without having the force of character to face them. + +"I must think it over, come to a decision, and put it out of my +mind," he said aloud. + +"The question of her feelings, of what has passed and may be +passing in her soul, that's not my affair; that's the affair of +her conscience, and falls under the head of religion," he said to +himself, feeling consolation in the sense that he had found to +which division of regulating principles this new circumstance +could be properly referred. + +"And so," Alexey Alexandrovitch said to himself, "questions as to +her feelings, and so on, are questions for her conscience, with +which I can have nothing to do. My duty is clearly defined. As +the head of the family, I am a person bound in duty to guide her, +and consequently, in part the person responsible; I am bound to +point out the danger I perceive, to warn her, even to use my +authority. I ought to speak plainly to her." And everything that +he would say tonight to his wife took clear shape in Alexey +Alexandrovitch's head. Thinking over what he would say, he +somewhat regretted that he should have to use his time and mental +powers for domestic consumption, with so little to show for it, +but, in spite of that, the form and contents of the speech before +him shaped itself as clearly and distinctly in his head as a +ministerial report. + +"I must say and express fully the following points: first, +exposition of the value to be attached to public opinion and to +decorum; secondly, exposition of religious significance of +marriage; thirdly, if need be, reference to the calamity possibly +ensuing to our son; fourthly, reference to the unhappiness likely +to result to herself." And, interlacing his fingers, Alexey +Alexandrovitch stretched them, and the joints of the fingers +cracked. This trick, a bad habit, the cracking of his fingers, +always soothed him, and gave precision to his thoughts, so +needful to him at this juncture. + +There was the sound of a carriage driving up to the front door. +Alexey Alexandrovitch halted in the middle of the room. + +A woman's step was heard mounting the stairs. Alexey +Alexandrovitch, ready for his speech, stood compressing his +crossed fingers, waiting to see if the crack would not come +again. One joint cracked. + +Already, from the sound of light steps on the stairs, he was +aware that she was close, and though he was satisfied with his +speech, he felt frightened of the explanation confronting him... + + + +Chapter 9 + + +Anna came in with hanging head, playing with the tassels of her +hood. Her face was brilliant and glowing; but this glow was not +one of brightness; it suggested the fearful glow of a +conflagration in the midst of a dark night. On seeing her +husband, Anna raised her head and smiled, as though she had just +waked up. + +"You're not in bed? What a wonder!" she said, letting fall her +hood, and without stopping, she went on into the dressing room. +"It's late, Alexey Alexandrovitch," she said, when she had gone +through the doorway. + +"Anna, it's necessary for me to have a talk with you." + +"With me?" she said, wonderingly. She came out from behind the +door of the dressing room, and looked at him. "Why, what is it? +What about?" she asked, sitting down. "Well, let's talk, if it's +so necessary. But it would be better to get to sleep." + +Anna said what came to her lips, and marveled, hearing herself, +at her own capacity for lying. How simple and natural were her +words, and how likely that she was simply sleepy! She felt +herself clad in an impenetrable armor of falsehood. She felt +that some unseen force had come to her aid and was supporting +her. + +"Anna, I must warn you," he began. + +"Warn me?" she said. "Of what?" + +She looked at him so simply, so brightly, that anyone who did +not know her as her husband knew her could not have noticed +anything unnatural, either in the sound or the sense of her +words. But to him, knowing her, knowing that whenever he went to +bed five minutes later than usual, she noticed it, and asked him +the reason; to him, knowing that every joy, every pleasure and +pain that she felt she communicated to him at once; to him, now +to see that she did not care to notice his state of mind, that +she did not care to say a word about herself, meant a great deal. +He saw that the inmost recesses of her soul, that had always +hitherto lain open before him, were closed against him. More +than that, he saw from her tone that she was not even perturbed +at that, but as it were said straight out to him: "Yes, it's shut +up, and so it must be, and will be in future." Now he +experienced a feeling such as a man might have, returning home +and finding his own house locked up. "But perhaps the key may +yet be found," thought Alexey Alexandrovitch. + +"I want to warn you," he said in a low voice, "that through +thoughtlessness and lack of caution you may cause yourself to be +talked about in society. Your too animated conversation this +evening with Count Vronsky" (he enunciated the name firmly and +with deliberate emphasis) "attracted attention." + +He talked and looked at her laughing eyes, which frightened him +now with their impenetrable look, and, as he talked, he felt all +the uselessness and idleness of his words. + +"You're always like that," she answered, as though completely +misapprehending him, and of all he had said only taking in the +last phrase. "One time you don't like my being dull, and another +time you don't like my being lively. I wasn't dull. Does that +offend you?" + +Alexey Alexandrovitch shivered, and bent his hands to make the +joints crack. + +"Oh, please, don't do that, I do so dislike it," she said. + +"Anna, is this you?" said Alexey Alexandrovitch, quietly making +an effort over himself, and restraining the motion of his +fingers. + +"But what is it all about?" she said, with such genuine and droll +wonder. "What do you want of me?" + +Alexey Alexandrovitch paused, and rubbed his forehead and his +eyes. He saw that instead of doing as he had intended--that is +to say, warning his wife against a mistake in the eyes of the +world--he had unconsciously become agitated over what was the +affair of her conscience, and was struggling against the barrier +he fancied between them. + +"This is what I meant to say to you," he went on coldly and +composedly, "and I beg you to listen to it. I consider jealousy, +as you know, a humiliating and degrading feeling, and I shall +never allow myself to be influenced by it; but there are certain +rules of decorum which cannot be disregarded with impunity. This +evening it was not I observed it, but judging by the impression +made on the company, everyone observed that your conduct and +deportment were not altogether what could be desired." + +"I positively don't understand," said Anna, shrugging her +shoulders--"He doesn't care," she thought. "But other people +noticed it, and that's what upsets him."--"You're not well, +Alexey Alexandrovitch," she added, and she got up, and would have +gone towards the door; but he moved forward as though he would +stop her. + +His face was ugly and forbidding, as Anna had never seen him. +She stopped, and bending her head back and on one side, began +with her rapid hand taking out her hairpins. + +"Well, I'm listening to what's to come," she said, calmly and +ironically; "and indeed I listen with interest, for I should +like to understand what's the matter." + +She spoke, and marveled at the confident, calm, and natural tone +in which she was speaking, and the choice of the words she used. + +"To enter into all the details of your feelings I have no right, +and besides, I regard that as useless and even harmful," began +Alexey Alexandrovitch. "Ferreting in one's soul, one often +ferrets out something that might have lain there unnoticed. Your +feelings are an affair of your own conscience; but I am in duty +bound to you, to myself, and to God, to point out to you your +duties. Our life has been joined, not by man, but by God. That +union can only be severed by a crime, and a crime of that nature +brings its own chastisement." + +"I don't understand a word. And, oh dear! how sleepy I am, +unluckily," she said, rapidly passing her hand through her hair, +feeling for the remaining hairpins. + +"Anna, for God's sake don't speak like that!" he said gently. +"Perhaps I am mistaken, but believe me, what I say, I say as much +for myself as for you. I am your husband, and I love you." + +For an instant her face fell, and the mocking gleam in her eyes +died away; but the word love threw her into revolt again. She +thought: "Love? Can he love? If he hadn't heard there was such +a thing as love, he would never have used the word. He doesn't +even know what love is." + +"Alexey Alexandrovitch, really I don't understand," she said. +"Define what it is you find..." + +"Pardon, let me say all I have to say. I love you. But I am not +speaking of myself; the most important persons in this matter are +our son and yourself. It may very well be, I repeat, that my +words seem to you utterly unnecessary and out of place; it may be +that they are called forth by my mistaken impression. In that +case, I beg you to forgive me. But if you are conscious +yourself of even the smallest foundation for them, then I beg you +to think a little, and if your heart prompts you, to speak out to +me..." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch was unconsciously saying something utterly +unlike what he had prepared. + +"I have nothing to say. And besides," she said hurriedly, with +difficulty repressing a smile, "it's really time to be in bed." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch sighed, and, without saying more, went into +the bedroom. + +When she came into the bedroom, he was already in bed. His lips +were sternly compressed, and his eyes looked away from her. Anna +got into her bed, and lay expecting every minute that he would +begin to speak to her again. She both feared his speaking and +wished for it. But he was silent. She waited for a long while +without moving, and had forgotten about him. She thought of that +other; she pictured him, and felt how her heart was flooded with +emotion and guilty delight at the thought of him. Suddenly she +heard an even, tranquil snore. For the first instant Alexey +Alexandrovitch seemed, as it were, appalled at his own snoring, +and ceased; but after an interval of two breathings the snore +sounded again, with a new tranquil rhythm. + +"It's late, it's late," she whispered with a smile. A long while +she lay, not moving, with open eyes, whose brilliance she almost +fancied she could herself see in the darkness. + + + +Chapter 10 + + +From that time a new life began for Alexey Alexandrovitch and for +his wife. Nothing special happened. Anna went out into society, +as she had always done, was particularly often at Princess +Betsy's, and met Vronsky everywhere. Alexey Alexandrovitch saw +this, but could do nothing. All his efforts to draw her into +open discussion she confronted with a barrier which he could not +penetrate, made up of a sort of amused perplexity. Outwardly +everything was the same, but their inner relations were +completely changed. Alexey Alexandrovitch, a man of great power +in the world of politics, felt himself helpless in this. Like an +ox with head bent, submissively he awaited the blow which he felt +was lifted over him. Every time he began to think about it, he +felt that he must try once more, that by kindness, tenderness, +and persuasion there was still hope of saving her, of bringing +her back to herself, and every day he made ready to talk to her. +But every time he began talking to her, he felt that the spirit +of evil and deceit, which had taken possession of her, had +possession of him too, and he talked to her in a tone quite +unlike that in which he had meant to talk. Involuntarily he +talked to her in his habitual tone of jeering at anyone who +should say what he was saying. And in that tone it was +impossible to say what needed to be said to her. + + + +Chapter 11 + + +That which for Vronsky had been almost a whole year the one +absorbing desire of his life, replacing all his old desires; that +which for Anna had been an impossible, terrible, and even for +that reason more entrancing dream of bliss, that desire had been +fulfilled. He stood before her, pale, his lower jaw quivering, +and besought her to be calm, not knowing how or why. + +"Anna! Anna!" he said with a choking voice, "Anna, for pity's +sake!..." + +But the louder he spoke, the lower she dropped her once proud and +gay, now shame-stricken head, and she bowed down and sank from +the sofa where she was sitting, down on the floor, at his feet; +she would have fallen on the carpet if he had not held her. + +"My God! Forgive me!" she said, sobbing, pressing his hands to +her bosom. + +She felt so sinful, so guilty, that nothing was left her but to +humiliate herself and beg forgiveness; and as now there was no +one in her life but him, to him she addressed her prayer for +forgiveness. Looking at him, she had a physical sense of her +humiliation, and she could say nothing more. He felt what a +murderer must feel, when he sees the body he has robbed of life. +That body, robbed by him of life, was their love, the first stage +of their love. There was something awful and revolting in the +memory of what had been bought at this fearful price of shame. +Shame at their spiritual nakedness crushed her and infected him. +But in spite of all the murderer's horror before the body of his +victim, he must hack it to pieces, hide the body, must use what +he has gained by his murder. + +And with fury, as it were with passion, the murderer falls on the +body, and drags it and hacks at it; so he covered her face and +shoulders with kisses. She held his hand, and did not stir. +"Yes, these kisses--that is what has been bought by this shame. +Yes, and one hand, which will always be mine--the hand of my +accomplice." She lifted up that hand and kissed it. He sank on +his knees and tried to see her face; but she hid it, and said +nothing. At last, as though making an effort over herself, she +got up and pushed him away. Her face was still as beautiful, but +it was only the more pitiful for that. + +"All is over," she said; "I have nothing but you. Remember +that." + +"I can never forget what is my whole life. For one instant of +this happiness..." + +"Happiness!" she said with horror and loathing and her horror +unconsciously infected him. "For pity's sake, not a word, not a +word more." + +She rose quickly and moved away from him. + +"Not a word more," she repeated, and with a look of chill +despair, incomprehensible to him, she parted from him. She felt +that at that moment she could not put into words the sense of +shame, of rapture, and of horror at this stepping into a new +life, and she did not want to speak of it, to vulgarize this +feeling by inappropriate words. But later too, and the next day +and the third day, she still found no words in which she could +express the complexity of her feelings; indeed, she could not +even find thoughts in which she could clearly think out all that +was in her soul. + +She said to herself: "No, just now I can't think of it, later on, +when I am calmer." But this calm for thought never came; every +time the thought rose of what she had done and what would happen +to her, and what she ought to do, a horror came over her and she +drove those thoughts away. + +"Later, later," she said--"when I am calmer." + +But in dreams, when she had no control over her thoughts, her +position presented itself to her in all its hideous nakedness. +One dream haunted her almost every night. She dreamed that both +were her husbands at once, that both were lavishing caresses on +her. Alexey Alexandrovitch was weeping, kissing her hands, and +saying, "How happy we are now!" And Alexey Vronsky was there +too, and he too was her husband. And she was marveling that it +had once seemed impossible to her, was explaining to them, +laughing, that this was ever so much simpler, and that now both +of them were happy and contented. But this dream weighed on her +like a nightmare, and she awoke from it in terror. + + + +Chapter 12 + + +In the early days after his return from Moscow, whenever Levin +shuddered and grew red, remembering the disgrace of his +rejection, he said to himself: "This was just how I used to +shudder and blush, thinking myself utterly lost, when I was +plucked in physics and did not get my remove; and how I thought +myself utterly ruined after I had mismanaged that affair of my +sister's that was entrusted to me. And yet, now that years have +passed, I recall it and wonder that it could distress me so +much. It will be the same thing too with this trouble. Time +will go by and I shall not mind about this either." + +But three months had passed and he had not left off minding about +it; and it was as painful for him to think of it as it had been +those first days. He could not be at peace because after +dreaming so long of family life, and feeling himself so ripe for +it, he was still not married, and was further than ever from +marriage. He was painfully conscious himself, as were all about +him, that at his years it is not well for man to be alone. He +remembered how before starting for Moscow he had once said to his +cowman Nikolay, a simple-hearted peasant, whom he liked talking +to: "Well, Nikolay! I mean to get married," and how Nikolay had +promptly answered, as of a matter on which there could be no +possible doubt: "And high time too, Konstantin Demitrievitch." +But marriage had now become further off than ever. The place was +taken, and whenever he tried to imagine any of the girls he knew +in that place, he felt that it was utterly impossible. Moreover, +the recollection of the rejection and the part he had played in +the affair tortured him with shame. However often he told +himself that he was in no wise to blame in it, that recollection, +like other humiliating reminiscences of a similar kind, made him +twinge and blush. There had been in his past, as in every man's, +actions, recognized by him as bad, for which his conscience ought +to have tormented him; but the memory of these evil actions was +far from causing him so much suffering as those trivial but +humiliating reminiscences. These wounds never healed. And with +these memories was now ranged his rejection and the pitiful +position in which he must have appeared to others that evening. +But time and work did their part. Bitter memories were more and +more covered up by the incidents--paltry in his eyes, but really +important--of his country life. Every week he thought less +often of Kitty. He was impatiently looking forward to the news +that she was married, or just going to be married, hoping that +such news would, like having a tooth out, completely cure him. + +Meanwhile spring came on, beautiful and kindly, without the +delays and treacheries of spring,--one of those rare springs in +which plants, beasts, and man rejoice alike. This lovely spring +roused Levin still more, and strengthened him in his resolution +of renouncing all his past and building up his lonely life firmly +and independently. Though many of the plans with which he had +returned to the country had not been carried out, still his most +important resolution--that of purity--had been kept by him. He +was free from that shame, which had usually harassed him after a +fall; and he could look everyone straight in the face. In +February he had received a letter from Marya Nikolaevna telling +him that his brother Nikolay's health was getting worse, but that +he would not take advice, and in consequence of this letter Levin +went to Moscow to his brother's and succeeded in persuading him +to see a doctor and to go to a watering-place abroad. He +succeeded so well in persuading his brother, and in lending him +money for the journey without irritating him, that he was +satisfied with himself in that matter. In addition to his +farming, which called for special attention in spring, and in +addition to reading, Levin had begun that winter a work on +agriculture, the plan of which turned on taking into account the +character of the laborer on the land as one of the unalterable +data of the question, like the climate and the soil, and +consequently deducing all the principles of scientific culture, +not simply from the data of soil and climate, but from the data +of soil, climate, and a certain unalterable character of the +laborer. Thus, in spite of his solitude, or in consequence of +his solitude, his life was exceedingly full. Only rarely he +suffered from an unsatisfied desire to communicate his stray +ideas to someone besides Agafea Mihalovna. With her indeed he +not infrequently fell into discussion upon physics, the theory of +agriculture, and especially philosophy; philosophy was Agafea +Mihalovna's favorite subject. + +Spring was slow in unfolding. For the last few weeks it had been +steadily fine frosty weather. In the daytime it thawed in the +sun, but at night there were even seven degrees of frost. There +was such a frozen surface on the snow that they drove the wagons +anywhere off the roads. Easter came in the snow. Then all of a +sudden, on Easter Monday, a warm wind sprang up, storm clouds +swooped down, and for three days and three nights the warm, +driving rain fell in streams. On Thursday the wind dropped, and +a thick gray fog brooded over the land as though hiding the +mysteries of the transformations that were being wrought in +nature. Behind the fog there was the flowing of water, the +cracking and floating of ice, the swift rush of turbid, foaming +torrents; and on the following Monday, in the evening, the fog +parted, the storm clouds split up into little curling crests of +cloud, the sky cleared, and the real spring had come. In the +morning the sun rose brilliant and quickly wore away the thin +layer of ice that covered the water, and all the warm air was +quivering with the steam that rose up from the quickened earth. +The old grass looked greener, and the young grass thrust up its +tiny blades; the buds of the guelder-rose and of the currant and +the sticky birch-buds were swollen with sap, and an exploring bee +was humming about the golden blossoms that studded the willow. +Larks trilled unseen above the velvety green fields and the +ice-covered stubble-land; peewits wailed over the low lands and +marshes flooded by the pools; cranes and wild geese flew high +across the sky uttering their spring calls. The cattle, bald in +patches where the new hair had not grown yet, lowed in the +pastures; the bowlegged lambs frisked round their bleating +mothers. Nimble children ran about the drying paths, covered +with the prints of bare feet. There was a merry chatter of +peasant women over their linen at the pond, and the ring of axes +in the yard, where the peasants were repairing ploughs and +harrows. The real spring had come. + + + +Chapter 13 + + +Levin put on his big boots, and, for the first time, a cloth +jacket, instead of his fur cloak, and went out to look after his +farm, stepping over streams of water that flashed in the sunshine +and dazzled his eyes, and treading one minute on ice and the next +into sticky mud. + +Spring is the time of plans and projects. And, as he came out +into the farmyard, Levin, like a tree in spring that knows not +what form will be taken by the young shoots and twigs imprisoned +in its swelling buds, hardly knew what undertakings he was going +to begin upon now in the farm work that was so dear to him. But +he felt that he was full of the most splendid plans and projects. +First of all he went to the cattle. The cows had been let out +into their paddock, and their smooth sides were already shining +with their new, sleek, spring coats; they basked in the sunshine +and lowed to go to the meadow. Levin gazed admiringly at the +cows he knew so intimately to the minutest detail of their +condition, and gave orders for them to be driven out into the +meadow, and the calves to be let into the paddock. The herdsman +ran gaily to get ready for the meadow. The cowherd girls, +picking up their petticoats, ran splashing through the mud with +bare legs, still white, not yet brown from the sun, waving brush +wood in their hands, chasing the calves that frolicked in the +mirth of spring. + +After admiring the young ones of that year, who were particularly +fine--the early calves were the size of a peasant's cow, and +Pava's daughter, at three months old, was as big as a yearling-- +Levin gave orders for a trough to be brought out and for them to +be fed in the paddock. But it appeared that as the paddock had +not been used during the winter, the hurdles made in the autumn +for it were broken. He sent for the carpenter, who, according to +his orders, ought to have been at work at the thrashing machine. +But it appeared that the carpenter was repairing the harrows, +which ought to have been repaired before Lent. This was very +annoying to Levin. It was annoying to come upon that everlasting +slovenliness in the farm work against which he had been striving +with all his might for so many years. The hurdles, as he +ascertained, being not wanted in winter, had been carried to +the cart-horses' stable; and there broken, as they were of light +construction, only meant for feeding calves. Moreover, it was +apparent also that the harrows and all the agricultural +implements, which he had directed to be looked over and repaired +in the winter, for which very purpose he had hired three +carpenters, had not been put into repair, and the harrows were +being repaired when they ought to have been harrowing the field. +Levin sent for his bailiff, but immediately went off himself to +look for him. The bailiff, beaming all over, like everyone that +day, in a sheepskin bordered with astrachan, came out of the +barn, twisting a bit of straw in his hands. + +"Why isn't the carpenter at the thrashing machine?" + +"Oh, I meant to tell you yesterday, the harrows want repairing. +Here it's time they got to work in the fields." + +"But what were they doing in the winter, then?" + +"But what did you want the carpenter for?" + +"Where are the hurdles for the calves' paddock?" + +"I ordered them to be got ready. What would you have with those +peasants!" said the bailiff, with a wave of his hand. + +"It's not those peasants but this bailiff!" said Levin, getting +angry. "Why, what do I keep you for?" he cried. But, bethinking +himself that this would not help matters, he stopped short in the +middle of a sentence, and merely sighed. "Well, what do you say? +Can sowing begin?" he asked, after a pause. + +"Behind Turkin tomorrow or the next day they might begin." + +"And the clover?" + +"I've sent Vassily and Mishka; they're sowing. Only I don't know +if they'll manage to get through; it's so slushy." + +"How many acres?" + +"About fifteen." + +"Why not sow all?" cried Levin. + +That they were only sowing the clover on fifteen acres, not on +all the forty-five, was still more annoying to him. Clover, as +he knew, both from books and from his own experience, never did +well except when it was sown as early as possible, almost in the +snow. And yet Levin could never get this done. + +"There's no one to send. What would you have with such a set of +peasants? Three haven't turned up. And there's Semyon..." + +"Well, you should have taken some men from the thatching." + +"And so I have, as it is." + +"Where are the peasants, then?" + +"Five are making compote" (which meant compost), "four are +shifting the oats for fear of a touch of mildew, Konstantin +Dmitrievitch." + +Levin knew very well that "a touch of mildew" meant that his +English seed oats were already ruined. Again they had not done +as he had ordered. + +"Why, but I told you during Lent to put in pipes," he cried. + +"Don't put yourself out; we shall get it all done in time." + +Levin waved his hand angrily, went into the granary to glance at +the oats, and then to the stable. The oats were not yet spoiled. +But the peasants were carrying the oats in spades when they might +simply let them slide down into the lower granary; and arranging +for this to be done, and taking two workmen from there for sowing +clover, Levin got over his vexation with the bailiff. Indeed, it +was such a lovely day that one could not be angry. + +"Ignat!" he called to the coachman, who, with his sleeves tucked +up, was washing the carriage wheels, "saddle me..." + +"Which, sir?" + +"Well, let it be Kolpik." + +"Yes, sir." + +While they were saddling his horse, Levin again called up the +bailiff, who was hanging about in sight, to make it up with him, +and began talking to him about the spring operations before them, +and his plans for the farm. + +The wagons were to begin carting manure earlier, so as to get all +done before the early mowing. And the ploughing of the further +land to go on without a break so as to let it ripen lying fallow. +And the mowing to be all done by hired labor, not on +half-profits. The bailiff listened attentively, and obviously +made an effort to approve of his employer's projects. But still +he had that look Levin knew so well that always irritated him, a +look of hopelessness and despondency. That look said: "That's +all very well, but as God wills." + +Nothing mortified Levin so much as that tone. But it was the +tone common to all the bailiffs he had ever had. They had all +taken up that attitude to his plans, and so now he was not +angered by it, but mortified, and felt all the more roused to +struggle against this, as it seemed, elemental force continually +ranged against him, for which he could find no other expression +than "as God wills." + +"If we can manage it, Konstantin Dmitrievitch," said the bailiff. + +"Why ever shouldn't you manage it?" + +"We positively must have another fifteen laborers. And they +don't turn up. There were some here today asking seventy roubles +for the summer." + +Levin was silent. Again he was brought face to face with that +opposing force. He knew that however much they tried, they could +not hire more than forty--thirty-seven perhaps or thirty-eight-- +laborers for a reasonable sum. Some forty had been taken on, and +there were no more. But still he could not help struggling +against it. + +"Send to Sury, to Tchefirovka; if they don't come we must look +for them." + +"Oh, I'll send, to be sure," said Vassily Fedorovitch +despondently. "But there are the horses, too, they're not good +for much." + +"We'll get some more. I know, of course," Levin added laughing, +"you always want to do with as little and as poor quality as +possible; but this year I'm not going to let you have things your +own way. I'll see to everything myself." + +"Why, I don't think you take much rest as it is. It cheers us up +to work under the master's eye..." + +"So they're sowing clover behind the Birch Dale? I'll go and +have a look at them," he said, getting on to the little bay cob, +Kolpik, who was led up by the coachman. + +"You can't get across the streams, Konstantin Dmitrievitch," the +coachman shouted. + +"All right, I'll go by the forest." + +And Levin rode through the slush of the farmyard to the gate and +out into the open country, his good little horse, after his long +inactivity, stepping out gallantly, snorting over the pools, and +asking, as it were, for guidance. If Levin had felt happy before +in the cattle pens and farmyard, he felt happier yet in the open +country. Swaying rhythmically with the ambling paces of his good +little cob, drinking in the warm yet fresh scent of the snow and +the air, as he rode through his forest over the crumbling, wasted +snow, still left in parts, and covered with dissolving tracks, he +rejoiced over every tree, with the moss reviving on its bark and +the buds swelling on its shoots. When he came out of the forest, +in the immense plain before him, his grass fields stretched in an +unbroken carpet of green, without one bare place or swamp, only +spotted here and there in the hollows with patches of melting +snow. He was not put out of temper even by the sight of the +peasants' horses and colts trampling down his young grass (he +told a peasant he met to drive them out), nor by the sarcastic +and stupid reply of the peasant Ipat, whom he met on the way, and +asked, "Well, Ipat, shall we soon be sowing?" "We must get the +ploughing done first, Konstantin Dmitrievitch," answered Ipat. +The further he rode, the happier he became, and plans for the +land rose to his mind each better than the last; to plant all his +fields with hedges along the southern borders, so that the snow +should not lie under them; to divide them up into six fields of +arable and three of pasture and hay; to build a cattle yard at +the further end of the estate, and to dig a pond and to construct +movable pens for the cattle as a means of manuring the land. And +then eight hundred acres of wheat, three hundred of potatoes, and +four hundred of clover, and not one acre exhausted. + +Absorbed in such dreams, carefully keeping his horse by the +hedges, so as not to trample his young crops, he rode up to the +laborers who had been sent to sow clover. A cart with the seed +in it was standing, not at the edge, but in the middle of the +crop, and the winter corn had been torn up by the wheels and +trampled by the horse. Both the laborers were sitting in the +hedge, probably smoking a pipe together. The earth in the cart, +with which the seed was mixed, was not crushed to powder, but +crusted together or adhering in clods. Seeing the master, the +laborer, Vassily, went towards the cart, while Mishka set to work +sowing. This was not as it should be, but with the laborers +Levin seldom lost his temper. When Vassily came up, Levin told +him to lead the horse to the hedge. + +"It's all right, sir, it'll spring up again," responded Vassily. + +"Please don't argue," said Levin, "but do as you're told." + +"Yes, sir," answered Vassily, and he took the horse's head. +"What a sowing, Konstantin Dmitrievitch," he said, hesitating; +"first rate. Only it's a work to get about! You drag a ton of +earth on your shoes." + +"Why is it you have earth that's not sifted?" said Levin. + +"Well, we crumble it up," answered Vassily, taking up some seed +and rolling the earth in his palms. + +Vassily was not to blame for their having filled up his cart with +unsifted earth, but still it was annoying. + +Levin had more than once already tried a way he knew for stifling +his anger, and turning all that seemed dark right again, and he +tried that way now. He watched how Mishka strode along, swinging +the huge clods of earth that clung to each foot; and getting off +his horse, he took the sieve from Vassily and started sowing +himself. + +"Where did you stop?" + +Vassily pointed to the mark with his foot, and Levin went forward +as best he could, scattering the seed on the land. Walking was as +difficult as on a bog, and by the time Levin had ended the row he +was in a great heat, and he stopped and gave up the sieve to +Vassily. + +"Well, master, when summer's here, mind you don't scold me for +these rows," said Vassily. + +"Eh?" said Levin cheerily, already feeling the effect of his +method. + +"Why, you'll see in the summer time. It'll look different. Look +you where I sowed last spring. How I did work at it! I do my +best, Konstantin Dmitrievitch, d'ye see, as I would for my own +father. I don't like bad work myself, nor would I let another +man do it. What's good for the master's good for us too. To +look out yonder now," said Vassily, pointing, "it does one's +heart good." + +"It's a lovely spring, Vassily." + +"Why, it's a spring such as the old men don't remember the like +of. I was up home; an old man up there has sown wheat too, about +an acre of it. He was saying you wouldn't know it from rye." + +"Have you been sowing wheat long?" + +"Why, sir, it was you taught us the year before last. You gave +me two measures. We sold about eight bushels and sowed a rood." + +"Well, mind you crumble up the clods," said Levin, going towards +his horse, "and keep an eye on Mishka. And if there's a good +crop you shall have half a rouble for every acre." + +"Humbly thankful. We are very well content, sir, as it is." + +Levin got on his horse and rode towards the field where was last +year's clover, and the one which was ploughed ready for the +spring corn. + +The crop of clover coming up in the stubble was magnificent. It +had survived everything, and stood up vividly green through the +broken stalks of last year's wheat. The horse sank in up to +the pasterns, and he drew each hoof with a sucking sound out of +the half-thawed ground. Over the ploughland riding was utterly +impossible; the horse could only keep a foothold where there was +ice, and in the thawing furrows he sank deep in at each step. +The ploughland was in splendid condition; in a couple of days it +would be fit for harrowing and sowing. Everything was capital, +everything was cheering. Levin rode back across the streams, +hoping the water would have gone down. And he did in fact get +across, and startled two ducks. "There must be snipe too," he +thought, and just as he reached the turning homewards he met the +forest keeper, who confirmed his theory about the snipe. + +Levin went home at a trot, so as to have time to eat his dinner +and get his gun ready for the evening. + + + +Chapter 14 + + +As he rode up to the house in the happiest frame of mind, Levin +heard the bell ring at the side of the principal entrance of the +house. + +"Yes, that's someone from the railway station," he thought, +"just the time to be here from the Moscow train...Who could it +be? What if it's brother Nikolay? He did say: 'Maybe I'll go +to the waters, or maybe I'll come down to you.'" He felt +dismayed and vexed for the first minute, that his brother +Nikolay's presence should come to disturb his happy mood of +spring. But he felt ashamed of the feeling, and at once he +opened, as it were, the arms of his soul, and with a softened +feeling of joy and expectation, now he hoped with all his heart +that it was his brother. He pricked up his horse, and riding out +from behind the acacias he saw a hired three-horse sledge from +the railway station, and a gentleman in a fur coat. It was not +his brother. "Oh, if it were only some nice person one could +talk to a little!" he thought. + +"Ah," cried Levin joyfully, flinging up both his hands. "Here's +a delightful visitor! Ah, how glad I am to see you!" he shouted, +recognizing Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +"I shall find out for certain whether she's married, or when +she's going to be married," he thought. And on that delicious +spring day he felt that the thought of her did not hurt him at +all. + +"Well, you didn't expect me, eh?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, +getting out of the sledge, splashed with mud on the bridge of his +nose, on his cheek, and on his eyebrows, but radiant with health +and good spirits. "I've come to see you in the first place," he +said, embracing and kissing him, "to have some stand-shooting +second, and to sell the forest at Ergushovo third." + +"Delightful! What a spring we're having! How ever did you get +along in a sledge?" + +"In a cart it would have been worse still, Konstantin +Dmitrievitch," answered the driver, who knew him. + +"Well, I'm very, very glad to see you," said Levin, with a +genuine smile of childlike delight. + +Levin led his friend to the room set apart for visitors, where +Stepan Arkadyevitch's things were carried also--a bag, a gun in +a case, a satchel for cigars. Leaving him there to wash and +change his clothes, Levin went off to the counting house to speak +about the ploughing and clover. Agafea Mihalovna, always very +anxious for the credit of the house, met him in the hall with +inquiries about dinner. + +"Do just as you like, only let it be as soon as possible," he +said, and went to the bailiff. + +When he came back, Stepan Arkadyevitch, washed and combed, came +out of his room with a beaming smile, and they went upstairs +together. + +"Well, I am glad I managed to get away to you! Now I shall +understand what the mysterious business is that you are always +absorbed in here. No, really, I envy you. What a house, how +nice it all is! So bright, so cheerful!" said Stepan +Arkadyevitch, forgetting that it was not always spring and fine +weather like that day. "And your nurse is simply charming! A +pretty maid in an apron might be even more agreeable, perhaps; +but for your severe monastic style it does very well." + +Stepan Arkadyevitch told him many interesting pieces of news; +especially interesting to Levin was the news that his brother, +Sergey Ivanovitch, was intending to pay him a visit in the +summer. + +Not one word did Stepan Arkadyevitch say in reference to Kitty +and the Shtcherbatskys; he merely gave him greetings from his +wife. Levin was grateful to him for his delicacy and was very +glad of his visitor. As always happened with him during his +solitude, a mass of ideas and feelings had been accumulating +within him, which he could not communicate to those about him. +And now he poured out upon Stepan Arkadyevitch his poetic joy in +the spring, and his failures and plans for the land, and his +thoughts and criticisms on the books he had been reading, and the +idea of his own book, the basis of which really was, though he +was unaware of it himself, a criticism of all the old books on +agriculture. Stepan Arkadyevitch, always charming, understanding +everything at the slightest reference, was particularly charming +on this visit, and Levin noticed in him a special tenderness, as +it were, and a new tone of respect that flattered him. + +The efforts of Agafea Mihalovna and the cook, that the dinner +should be particularly good, only ended in the two famished friends +attacking the preliminary course, eating a great deal of bread +and butter, salt goose and salted mushrooms, and in Levin's +finally ordering the soup to be served without the accompaniment +of little pies, with which the cook had particularly meant to +impress their visitor. But though Stepan Arkadyevitch was +accustomed to very different dinners, he thought everything +excellent: the herb brandy, and the bread, and the butter, and +above all the salt goose and the mushrooms, and the nettle soup, +and the chicken in white sauce, and the white Crimean wine-- +everything was superb and delicious. + +"Splendid, splendid!" he said, lighting a fat cigar after the +roast. "I feel as if, coming to you, I had landed on a peaceful +shore after the noise and jolting of a steamer. And so you +maintain that the laborer himself is an element to be studied and +to regulate the choice of methods in agriculture. Of course, I'm +an ignorant outsider; but I should fancy theory and its +application will have its influence on the laborer too." + +"Yes, but wait a bit. I'm not talking of political economy, I'm +talking of the science of agriculture. It ought to be like the +natural sciences, and to observe given phenomena and the laborer +in his economic, ethnographical..." + +At that instant Agafea Mihalovna came in with jam. + +"Oh, Agafea Mihalovna," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, kissing the +tips of his plump fingers, "what salt goose, what herb +brandy!...What do you think, isn't it time to start, Kostya?" he +added. + +Levin looked out of the window at the sun sinking behind the bare +tree-tops of the forest. + +"Yes, it's time," he said. "Kouzma, get ready the trap," and he +ran downstairs. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch, going down, carefully took the canvas cover +off his varnished gun case with his own hands, and opening it, +began to get ready his expensive new-fashioned gun. Kouzma, who +already scented a big tip, never left Stepan Arkadyevitch's side, +and put on him both his stockings and boots, a task which Stepan +Arkadyevitch readily left him. + +"Kostya, give orders that if the merchant Ryabinin comes...I told +him to come today, he's to be brought in and to wait for me..." + +"Why, do you mean to say you're selling the forest to Ryabinin?" + +"Yes. Do you know him?" + +"To be sure I do. I have had to do business with him, +'positively and conclusively.'" + +Stepan Arkadyevitch laughed. "Positively and conclusively" were +the merchant's favorite words. + +"Yes, it's wonderfully funny the way he talks. She knows where +her master's going!" he added, patting Laska, who hung about +Levin, whining and licking his hands, his boots, and his gun. + +The trap was already at the steps when they went out. + +"I told them to bring the trap round; or would you rather walk?" + +"No, we'd better drive," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, getting into +the trap. He sat down, tucked the tiger-skin rug round him, and +lighted a cigar. "How is it you don't smoke? A cigar is a sort +of thing, not exactly a pleasure, but the crown and outward sign +of pleasure. Come, this is life! How splendid it is! This is +how I should like to live!" + +"Why, who prevents you?" said Levin, smiling. + +"No, you're a lucky man! You've got everything you like. You +like horses--and you have them; dogs--you have them; shooting-- +you have it; farming--you have it." + +"Perhaps because I rejoice in what I have, and don't fret for +what I haven't," said Levin, thinking of Kitty. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch comprehended, looked at him, but said +nothing. + +Levin was grateful to Oblonsky for noticing, with his +never-failing tact, that he dreaded conversation about the +Shtcherbatskys, and so saying nothing about them. But now Levin +was longing to find out what was tormenting him so, yet he had +not the courage to begin. + +"Come, tell me how things are going with you," said Levin, +bethinking himself that it was not nice of him to think only of +himself. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch's eyes sparkled merrily. + +"You don't admit, I know, that one can be fond of new rolls when +one has had one's rations of bread--to your mind it's a crime; +but I don't count life as life without love," he said, taking +Levin's question his own way. "What am I to do? I'm made that +way. And really, one does so little harm to anyone, and gives +oneself so much pleasure..." + +"What! is there something new, then?" queried Levin. + +"Yes, my boy, there is! There, do you see, you know the type of +Ossian's women.... Women, such as one sees in dreams.... Well, +these women are sometimes to be met in reality...and these women +are terrible. Woman, don't you know, is such a subject that +however much you study it, it's always perfectly new." + +"Well, then, it would be better not to study it." + +"No. Some mathematician has said that enjoyment lies in the +search for truth, not in the finding it." + +Levin listened in silence, and in spite of all the efforts he +made, he could not in the least enter into the feelings of his +friend and understand his sentiments and the charm of studying +such women. + + + +Chapter 15 + + +The place fixed on for the stand-shooting was not far above a +stream in a little aspen copse. On reaching the copse, Levin got +out of the trap and led Oblonsky to a corner of a mossy, swampy +glade, already quite free from snow. He went back himself to a +double birch tree on the other side, and leaning his gun on the +fork of a dead lower branch, he took off his full overcoat, +fastened his belt again, and worked his arms to see if they were +free. + +Gray old Laska, who had followed them, sat down warily opposite +him and pricked up her ears. The sun was setting behind a thick +forest, and in the glow of sunset the birch trees, dotted about +in the aspen copse, stood out clearly with their hanging twigs, +and their buds swollen almost to bursting. + +From the thickest parts of the copse, where the snow still +remained, came the faint sound of narrow winding threads of water +running away. Tiny birds twittered, and now and then fluttered +from tree to tree. + +In the pauses of complete stillness there came the rustle of last +year's leaves, stirred by the thawing of the earth and the growth +of the grass. + +"Imagine! One can hear and see the grass growing!" Levin said +to himself, noticing a wet, slate-colored aspen leaf moving +beside a blade of young grass. He stood, listened, and gazed +sometimes down at the wet mossy ground, sometimes at Laska +listening all alert, sometimes at the sea of bare tree tops that +stretched on the slope below him, sometimes at the darkening sky, +covered with white streaks of cloud. + +A hawk flew high over a forest far away with slow sweep of its +wings; another flew with exactly the same motion in the same +direction and vanished. The birds twittered more and more loudly +and busily in the thicket. An owl hooted not far off, and Laska, +starting, stepped cautiously a few steps forward, and putting her +head on one side, began to listen intently. Beyond the stream +was heard the cuckoo. Twice she uttered her usual cuckoo call, +and then gave a hoarse, hurried call and broke down. + +"Imagine! the cuckoo already!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, coming +out from behind a bush. + +"Yes, I hear it," answered Levin, reluctantly breaking the +stillness with his voice, which sounded disagreeable to himself. +"Now it's coming!" + +Stepan Arkadyevitch's figure again went behind the bush, and +Levin saw nothing but the bright flash of a match, followed by +the red glow and blue smoke of a cigarette. + +"Tchk! tchk!" came the snapping sound of Stepan Arkadyevitch +cocking his gun. + +"What's that cry?" asked Oblonsky, drawing Levin's attention to +a prolonged cry, as though a colt were whinnying in a high voice, +in play. + +"Oh, don't you know it? That's the hare. But enough talking! +Listen, it's flying!" almost shrieked Levin, cocking his gun. + +They heard a shrill whistle in the distance, and in the exact +time, so well known to the sportsman, two seconds later-- +another, a third, and after the third whistle the hoarse, +guttural cry could be heard. + +Levin looked about him to right and to left, and there, just +facing him against the dusky blue sky above the confused mass of +tender shoots of the aspens, he saw the flying bird. It was +flying straight towards him; the guttural cry, like the even +tearing of some strong stuff, sounded close to his ear; the long +beak and neck of the bird could be seen, and at the very +instant when Levin was taking aim, behind the bush where Oblonsky +stood, there was a flash of red lightning: the bird dropped like +an arrow, and darted upwards again. Again came the red flash and +the sound of a blow, and fluttering its wings as though trying to +keep up in the air, the bird halted, stopped still an instant, +and fell with a heavy splash on the slushy ground. + +"Can I have missed it?" shouted Stepan Arkadyevitch, who could +not see for the smoke. + +"Here it is!" said Levin, pointing to Laska, who with one ear +raised, wagging the end of her shaggy tail, came slowly back as +though she would prolong the pleasure, and as it were smiling, +brought the dead bird to her master. "Well, I'm glad you were +successful," said Levin, who, at the same time, had a sense of +envy that he had not succeeded in shooting the snipe. + +"It was a bad shot from the right barrel," responded Stepan +Arkadyevitch, loading his gun. "Sh...it's flying!" + +The shrill whistles rapidly following one another were heard +again. Two snipe, playing and chasing one another, and only +whistling, not crying, flew straight at the very heads of the +sportsmen. There was the report of four shots, and like swallows +the snipe turned swift somersaults in the air and vanished from +sight. + + +The stand-shooting was capital. Stepan Arkadyevitch shot two +more birds and Levin two, of which one was not found. It began +to get dark. Venus, bright and silvery, shone with her soft +light low down in the west behind the birch trees, and high up in +the east twinkled the red lights of Arcturus. Over his head +Levin made out the stars of the Great Bear and lost them again. +The snipe had ceased flying; but Levin resolved to stay a little +longer, till Venus, which he saw below a branch of birch, should +be above it, and the stars of the Great Bear should be perfectly +plain. Venus had risen above the branch, and the ear of the +Great Bear with its shaft was now all plainly visible against the +dark blue sky, yet still he waited. + +"Isn't it time to go home?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +It was quite still now in the copse, and not a bird was stirring. + +"Let's stay a little while," answered Levin. + +"As you like." + +They were standing now about fifteen paces from one another. + +"Stiva!" said Levin unexpectedly; "how is it you don't tell me +whether your sister-in-law's married yet, or when she's going to +be?" + +Levin felt so resolute and serene that no answer, he fancied, +could affect him. But he had never dreamed of what Stepan +Arkadyevitch replied. + +"She's never thought of being married, and isn't thinking of it; +but she's very ill, and the doctors have sent her abroad. +They're positively afraid she may not live." + +"What!" cried Levin. "Very ill? What is wrong with her? How +has she...?" + +While they were saying this, Laska, with ears pricked up, was +looking upwards at the sky, and reproachfully at them. + +"They have chosen a time to talk," she was thinking. "It's on +the wing.... Here it is, yes, it is. They'll miss it," thought +Laska. + +But at that very instant both suddenly heard a shrill whistle +which, as it were, smote on their ears, and both suddenly seized +their guns and two flashes gleamed, and two gangs sounded at the +very same instant. The snipe flying high above instantly folded +its wings and fell into a thicket, bending down the delicate +shoots. + +"Splendid! Together!" cried Levin, and he ran with Laska into the +thicket to look for the snipe. + +"Oh, yes, what was it that was unpleasant?" he wondered. "Yes, +Kitty's ill.... Well, it can't be helped; I'm very sorry," he +thought. + +"She's found it! Isn't she a clever thing?" he said, taking the +warm bird from Laska's mouth and packing it into the almost full +game bag. "I've got it, Stiva!" he shouted. + + + +Chapter 16 + + +On the way home Levin asked all details of Kitty's illness and +the Shtcherbatskys' plans, and though he would have been ashamed +to admit it, he was pleased at what he heard. He was pleased +that there was still hope, and still more pleased that she should +be suffering who had made him suffer so much. But when Stepan +Arkadyevitch began to speak of the causes of Kitty's illness, and +mentioned Vronsky's name, Levin cut him short. + +"I have no right whatever to know family matters, and, to tell +the truth, no interest in them either." + +Stepan Arkadyevitch smiled hardly perceptibly, catching the +instantaneous change he knew so well in Levin's face, which had +become as gloomy as it had been bright a minute before. + +"Have you quite settled about the forest with Ryabinin?" asked +Levin. + +"Yes, it's settled. The price is magnificent; thirty-eight +thousand. Eight straight away, and the rest in six years. I've +been bothering about it for ever so long. No one would give +more." + +"Then you've as good as given away your forest for nothing," said +Levin gloomily. + +"How do you mean for nothing?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch with a +good-humored smile, knowing that nothing would be right in +Levin's eyes now. + +"Because the forest is worth at least a hundred and fifty roubles +the acre," answered Levin. + +"Oh, these farmers!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch playfully. "Your +tone of contempt for us poor townsfolk!... But when it comes to +business, we do it better than anyone. I assure you I have +reckoned it all out," he said, "and the forest is fetching a very +good price--so much so that I'm afraid of this fellow's crying +off, in fact. You know it's not 'timber,'" said Stepan +Arkadyevitch, hoping by this distinction to convince Levin +completely of the unfairness of his doubts. "And it won't run to +more than twenty-five yards of fagots per acre, and he's giving +me at the rate of seventy roubles the acre." + +Levin smiled contemptuously. "I know," he thought, "that fashion +not only in him, but in all city people, who, after being twice +in ten years in the country, pick up two or three phrases and use +them in season and out of season, firmly persuaded that they know +all about it. '_Timber, run to so many yards the acre._' He says +those words without understanding them himself." + +"I wouldn't attempt to teach you what you write about in your +office," said he, "and if need arose, I should come to you to ask +about it. But you're so positive you know all the lore of the +forest. It's difficult. Have you counted the trees?" + +"How count the trees?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, laughing, still +trying to draw his friend out of his ill-temper. "Count the +sands of the sea, number the stars. Some higher power might do +it." + +"Oh, well, the higher power of Ryabinin can. Not a single +merchant ever buys a forest without counting the trees, unless +they get it given them for nothing, as you're doing now. I know +your forest. I go there every year shooting, and your forest's +worth a hundred and fifty roubles an acre paid down, while he's +giving you sixty by installments. So that in fact you're making +him a present of thirty thousand." + +"Come, don't let your imagination run away with you," said Stepan +Arkadyevitch piteously. "Why was it none would give it, then?" + +"Why, because he has an understanding with the merchants; he's +bought them off. I've had to do with all of them; I know them. +They're not merchants, you know: they're speculators. He +wouldn't look at a bargain that gave him ten, fifteen per cent +profit, but holds back to buy a rouble's worth for twenty +kopecks." + +"Well, enough of it! You're out of temper." + +"Not the least," said Levin gloomily, as they drove up to the +house. + +At the steps there stood a trap tightly covered with iron and +leather, with a sleek horse tightly harnessed with broad +collar-straps. In the trap sat the chubby, tightly belted clerk +who served Ryabinin as coachman. Ryabinin himself was already in +the house, and met the friends in the hall. Ryabinin was a tall, +thinnish, middle-aged man, with mustache and a projecting +clean-shaven chin, and prominent muddy-looking eyes. He was +dressed in a long-skirted blue coat, with buttons below the waist +at the back, and wore high boots wrinkled over the ankles and +straight over the calf, with big galoshes drawn over them. He +rubbed his face with his handkerchief, and wrapping round him his +coat, which sat extremely well as it was, he greeted them with a +smile, holding out his hand to Stepan Arkadyevitch, as though he +wanted to catch something. + +"So here you are," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, giving him his hand. +"That's capital." + +"I did not venture to disregard your excellency's commands, +though the road was extremely bad. I positively walked the whole +way, but I am here at my time. Konstantin Dmitrievitch, my +respects"; he turned to Levin, trying to seize his hand too. But +Levin, scowling, made as though he did not notice his hand, and +took out the snipe. "Your honors have been diverting yourselves +with the chase? What kind of bird may it be, pray?" added +Ryabinin, looking contemptuously at the snipe: "a great +delicacy, I suppose." And he shook his head disapprovingly, as +though he had grave doubts whether this game were worth the +candle. + +"Would you like to go into my study?" Levin said in French to +Stepan Arkadyevitch, scowling morosely. "Go into my study; you +can talk there." + +"Quite so, where you please," said Ryabinin with contemptuous +dignity, as though wishing to make it felt that others might be +in difficulties as to how to behave, but that he could never be +in any difficulty about anything. + +On entering the study Ryabinin looked about, as his habit was, as +though seeking the holy picture, but when he had found it, he did +not cross himself. He scanned the bookcases and bookshelves, and +with the same dubious air with which he had regarded the snipe, +he smiled contemptuously and shook his head disapprovingly, as +though by no means willing to allow that this game were worth the +candle. + +"Well, have you brought the money?" asked Oblonsky. "Sit down." + +"Oh, don't trouble about the money. I've come to see you to talk +it over." + +"What is there to talk over? But do sit down." + +"I don't mind if I do," said Ryabinin, sitting down and leaning +his elbows on the back of his chair in a position of the +intensest discomfort to himself. "You must knock it down a bit, +prince. It would be too bad. The money is ready conclusively to +the last farthing. As to paying the money down, there'll be no +hitch there." + +Levin, who had meanwhile been putting his gun away in the +cupboard, was just going out of the door, but catching the +merchant's words, he stopped. + +"Why, you've got the forest for nothing as it is," he said. "He +came to me too late, or I'd have fixed the price for him." + +Ryabinin got up, and in silence, with a smile, he looked Levin +down and up. + +"Very close about money is Konstantin Dmitrievitch," he said with +a smile, turning to Stepan Arkadyevitch; "there's positively no +dealing with him. I was bargaining for some wheat of him, and a +pretty price I offered too." + +"Why should I give you my goods for nothing? I didn't pick it up +on the ground, nor steal it either." + +"Mercy on us! nowadays there's no chance at all of stealing. +With the open courts and everything done in style, nowadays +there's no question of stealing. We are just talking things over +like gentlemen. His excellency's asking too much for the forest. +I can't make both ends meet over it. I must ask for a little +concession." + +"But is the thing settled between you or not? If it's settled, +it's useless haggling; but if it's not," said Levin, "I'll buy +the forest." + +The smile vanished at once from Ryabinin's face. A hawklike, +greedy, cruel expression was left upon it. With rapid, bony +fingers he unbuttoned his coat, revealing a shirt, bronze +waistcoat buttons, and a watch chain, and quickly pulled out a +fat old pocketbook. + +"Here you are, the forest is mine," he said, crossing himself +quickly, and holding out his hand. "Take the money; it's my +forest. That's Ryabinin's way of doing business; he doesn't +haggle over every half-penny," he added, scowling and waving the +pocketbook. + +"I wouldn't be in a hurry if I were you," said Levin. + +"Come, really," said Oblonsky in surprise. "I've given my word, +you know." + +Levin went out of the room, slamming the door. Ryabinin looked +towards the door and shook his head with a smile. + +"It's all youthfulness--positively nothing but boyishness. Why, +I'm buying it, upon my honor, simply, believe me, for the glory +of it, that Ryabinin, and no one else, should have bought the +copse of Oblonsky. And as to the profits, why, I must make what +God gives. In God's name. If you would kindly sign the +title-deed..." + +Within an hour the merchant, stroking his big overcoat neatly +down, and hooking up his jacket, with the agreement in his +pocket, seated himself in his tightly covered trap, and drove +homewards. + +"Ugh, these gentlefolks!" he said to the clerk. "They--they're +a nice lot!" + +"That's so," responded the clerk, handing him the reins and +buttoning the leather apron. "But I can congratulate you on the +purchase, Mihail Ignatitch?" + +"Well, well..." + + + +Chapter 17 + + +Stepan Arkadyevitch went upstairs with his pocket bulging with +notes, which the merchant had paid him for three months in +advance. The business of the forest was over, the money in his +pocket; their shooting had been excellent, and Stepan +Arkadyevitch was in the happiest frame of mind, and so he felt +specially anxious to dissipate the ill-humor that had come upon +Levin. He wanted to finish the day at supper as pleasantly as it +had been begun. + +Levin certainly was out of humor, and in spite of all his desire +to be affectionate and cordial to his charming visitor, he could +not control his mood. The intoxication of the news that Kitty +was not married had gradually begun to work upon him. + +Kitty was not married, but ill, and ill from love for a man who +had slighted her. This slight, as it were, rebounded upon him. +Vronsky had slighted her, and she had slighted him, Levin. +Consequently Vronsky had the right to despise Levin, and +therefore he was his enemy. But all this Levin did not think +out. He vaguely felt that there was something in it insulting to +him, and he was not angry now at what had disturbed him, but he +fell foul of everything that presented itself. The stupid sale +of the forest, the fraud practiced upon Oblonsky and concluded in +his house, exasperated him. + +"Well, finished?" he said, meeting Stepan Arkadyevitch upstairs. +"Would you like supper?" + +"Well, I wouldn't say no to it. What an appetite I get in the +country! Wonderful! Why didn't you offer Ryabinin something?" + +"Oh, damn him!" + +"Still, how you do treat him!" said Oblonsky. "You didn't even +shake hands with him. Why not shake hands with him?" + +"Because I don't shake hands with a waiter, and a waiter's a +hundred times better than he is." + +"What a reactionist you are, really! What about the amalgamation +of classes?" said Oblonsky. + +"Anyone who likes amalgamating is welcome to it, but it sickens +me." + +"You're a regular reactionist, I see." + +"Really, I have never considered what I am. I am Konstantin +Levin, and nothing else." + +"And Konstantin Levin very much out of temper," said Stepan +Arkadyevitch, smiling. + +"Yes, I am out of temper, and do you know why? Because--excuse +me--of your stupid sale..." + +Stepan Arkadyevitch frowned good-humoredly, like one who feels +himself teased and attacked for no fault of his own. + +"Come, enough about it!" he said. "When did anybody ever sell +anything without being told immediately after the sale, 'It was +worth much more'? But when one wants to sell, no one will give +anything.... No, I see you've a grudge against that unlucky +Ryabinin." + +"Maybe I have. And do you know why? You'll say again that I'm a +reactionist, or some other terrible word; but all the same it +does annoy and anger me to see on all sides the impoverishing of +the nobility to which I belong, and, in spite of the amalgamation +of classes, I'm glad to belong. And their impoverishment is not +due to extravagance--that would be nothing; living in good style +--that's the proper thing for noblemen; it's only the nobles who +know how to do it. Now the peasants about us buy land, and I +don't mind that. The gentleman does nothing, while the peasant +works and supplants the idle man. That's as it ought to be. And +I'm very glad for the peasant. But I do mind seeing the process +of impoverishment from a sort of--I don't know what to call it-- +innocence. Here a Polish speculator bought for half its value a +magnificent estate from a young lady who lives in Nice. And +there a merchant will get three acres of land, worth ten roubles, +as security for the loan of one rouble. Here, for no kind of +reason, you've made that rascal a present of thirty thousand +roubles." + +"Well, what should I have done? Counted every tree?" + +"Of course, they must be counted. You didn't count them, but +Ryabinin did. Ryabinin's children will have means of livelihood +and education, while yours maybe will not!" + +"Well, you must excuse me, but there's something mean in this +counting. We have our business and they have theirs, and they +must make their profit. Anyway, the thing's done, and there's an +end of it. And here come some poached eggs, my favorite dish. +And Agafea Mihalovna will give us that marvelous herb-brandy..." + +Stepan Arkadyevitch sat down at the table and began joking with +Agafea Mihalovna, assuring her that it was long since he had +tasted such a dinner and such a supper. + +"Well, you do praise it, anyway," said Agafea Mihalovna, "but +Konstantin Dmitrievitch, give him what you will--a crust of +bread--he'll eat it and walk away." + +Though Levin tried to control himself, he was gloomy and silent. +He wanted to put one question to Stepan Arkadyevitch, but he +could not bring himself to the point, and could not find the +words or the moment in which to put it. Stepan Arkadyevitch had +gone down to his room, undressed, again washed, and attired in a +nightshirt with goffered frills, he had got into bed, but Levin +still lingered in his room, talking of various trifling matters, +and not daring to ask what he wanted to know. + +"How wonderfully they make this soap," he said gazing at a piece +of soap he was handling, which Agafea Mihalovna had put ready for +the visitor but Oblonsky had not used. "Only look; why, it's a +work of art." + +"Yes, everything's brought to such a pitch of perfection +nowadays," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, with a moist and blissful +yawn. "The theater, for instance, and the entertainments... +a--a--a!" he yawned. "The electric light everywhere...a--a--a!" + +"Yes, the electric light," said Levin. "Yes. Oh, and where's +Vronsky now?" he asked suddenly, laying down the soap. + +"Vronsky?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, checking his yawn; "he's in +Petersburg. He left soon after you did, and he's not once been +in Moscow since. And do you know, Kostya, I'll tell you the +truth," he went on, leaning his elbow on the table, and propping +on his hand his handsome ruddy face, in which his moist, +good-natured, sleepy eyes shone like stars. "It's your own +fault. You took fright at the sight of your rival. But, as I +told you at the time, I couldn't say which had the better +chance. Why didn't you fight it out? I told you at the time +that...." He yawned inwardly, without opening his mouth. + +"Does he know, or doesn't he, that I did make an offer?" Levin +wondered, gazing at him. "Yes, there's something humbugging, +diplomatic in his face," and feeling he was blushing, he looked +Stepan Arkadyevitch straight in the face without speaking. + +"If there was anything on her side at the time, it was nothing +but a superficial attraction," pursued Oblonsky. "His being such +a perfect aristocrat, don't you know, and his future position in +society, had an influence not with her, but with her mother." + +Levin scowled. The humiliation of his rejection stung him to the +heart, as though it were a fresh wound he had only just received. +But he was at home, and the walls of home are a support. + +"Stay, stay," he began, interrupting Oblonsky. "You talk of his +being an aristocrat. But allow me to ask what it consists in, +that aristocracy of Vronsky or of anybody else, beside which I +can be looked down upon? You consider Vronsky an aristocrat, +but I don't. A man whose father crawled up from nothing at all +by intrigue, and whose mother--God knows whom she wasn't mixed +up with.... No, excuse me, but I consider myself aristocratic, +and people like me, who can point back in the past to three or +four honorable generations of their family, of the highest degree +of breeding (talent and intellect, of course that's another +matter), and have never curried favor with anyone, never depended +on anyone for anything, like my father and my grandfather. And I +know many such. You think it mean of me to count the trees in my +forest, while you make Ryabinin a present of thirty thousand; but +you get rents from your lands and I don't know what, while I +don't and so I prize what's come to me from my ancestors or been +won by hard work.... We are aristocrats, and not those who can +only exist by favor of the powerful of this world, and who can be +bought for twopence halfpenny." + +"Well, but whom are you attacking? I agree with you," said +Stepan Arkadyevitch, sincerely and genially; though he was aware +that in the class of those who could be bought for twopence +halfpenny Levin was reckoning him too. Levin's warmth gave him +genuine pleasure. "Whom are you attacking? Though a good deal +is not true that you say about Vronsky, but I won't talk about +that. I tell you straight out, if I were you, I should go back +with me to Moscow, and..." + +"No; I don't know whether you know it or not, but I don't care. +And I tell you--I did make an offer and was rejected, and +Katerina Alexandrovna is nothing now to me but a painful and +humiliating reminiscence." + +"What ever for? What nonsense!" + +"But we won't talk about it. Please forgive me, if I've been +nasty," said Levin. Now that he had opened his heart, he became +as he had been in the morning. "You're not angry with me, Stiva? +Please don't be angry," he said, and smiling, he took his hand. + +"Of course not; not a bit, and no reason to be. I'm glad we've +spoken openly. And do you know, stand-shooting in the morning is +unusually good--why not go? I couldn't sleep the night anyway, +but I might go straight from shooting to the station." + +"Capital." + + + +Chapter 18 + + +Although all Vronsky's inner life was absorbed in his passion, +his external life unalterably and inevitably followed along the +old accustomed lines of his social and regimental ties and +interests. The interests of his regiment took an important place +in Vronsky's life, both because he was fond of the regiment, and +because the regiment was fond of him. They were not only fond of +Vronsky in his regiment, they respected him too, and were proud +of him; proud that this man, with his immense wealth, his +brilliant education and abilities, and the path open before him +to every kind of success, distinction, and ambition, had +disregarded all that, and of all the interests of life had the +interests of his regiment and his comrades nearest to his heart. +Vronsky was aware of his comrades' view of him, and in addition +to his liking for the life, he felt bound to keep up that +reputation. + +It need not be said that he did not speak of his love to any of +his comrades, nor did he betray his secret even in the wildest +drinking bouts (though indeed he was never so drunk as to lose +all control of himself). And he shut up any of his thoughtless +comrades who attempted to allude to his connection. But in spite +of that, his love was known to all the town; everyone guessed +with more or less confidence at his relations with Madame +Karenina. The majority of the younger men envied him for just +what was the most irksome factor in his love--the exalted +position of Karenin, and the consequent publicity of their +connection in society. + +The greater number of the young women, who envied Anna and had +long been weary of hearing her called _virtuous_, rejoiced at the +fulfillment of their predictions, and were only waiting for a +decisive turn in public opinion to fall upon her with all the +weight of their scorn. They were already making ready their +handfuls of mud to fling at her when the right moment arrived. +The greater number of the middle-aged people and certain great +personages were displeased at the prospect of the impending +scandal in society. + +Vronsky's mother, on hearing of his connection, was at first +pleased at it, because nothing to her mind gave such a finishing +touch to a brilliant young man as a _liaison_ in the highest +society; she was pleased, too, that Madame Karenina, who had so +taken her fancy, and had talked so much of her son, was, after +all, just like all other pretty and well-bred women,--at least +according to the Countess Vronskaya's ideas. But she had heard +of late that her son had refused a position offered him of great +importance to his career, simply in order to remain in the +regiment, where he could be constantly seeing Madame Karenina. +She learned that great personages were displeased with him on +this account, and she changed her opinion. She was vexed, too, +that from all she could learn of this connection it was not that +brilliant, graceful, worldly _liaison_ which she would have +welcomed, but a sort of Wertherish, desperate passion, so she was +told, which might well lead him into imprudence. She had not +seen him since his abrupt departure from Moscow, and she sent her +elder son to bid him come to see her. + +This elder son, too, was displeased with his younger brother. He +did not distinguish what sort of love his might be, big or +little, passionate or passionless, lasting or passing (he kept a +ballet girl himself, though he was the father of a family, so he +was lenient in these matters), but he knew that this love affair +was viewed with displeasure by those whom it was necessary to +please, and therefore he did not approve of his brother's +conduct. + +Besides the service and society, Vronsky had another great +interest--horses; he was passionately fond of horses. + +That year races and a steeplechase had been arranged for the +officers. Vronsky had put his name down, bought a thoroughbred +English mare, and in spite of his love affair, he was looking +forward to the races with intense, though reserved, excitement... + +These two passions did not interfere with one another. On the +contrary, he needed occupation and distraction quite apart from +his love, so as to recruit and rest himself from the violent +emotions that agitated him. + + +Chapter 19 + + +On the day of the races at Krasnoe Selo, Vronsky had come earlier +than usual to eat beefsteak in the common messroom of the +regiment. He had no need to be strict with himself, as he had +very quickly been brought down to the required light weight; but +still he had to avoid gaining flesh, and so he eschewed +farinaceous and sweet dishes. He sat with his coat unbuttoned +over a white waistcoat, resting both elbows on the table, and +while waiting for the steak he had ordered he looked at a French +novel that lay open on his plate. He was only looking at the +book to avoid conversation with the officers coming in and out; +he was thinking. + +He was thinking of Anna's promise to see him that day after the +races. But he had not seen her for three days, and as her +husband had just returned from abroad, he did not know whether +she would be able to meet him today or not, and he did not know +how to find out. He had had his last interview with her at his +cousin Betsy's summer villa. He visited the Karenins' summer +villa as rarely as possible. Now he wanted to go there, and he +pondered the question how to do it. + +"Of course I shall say Betsy has sent me to ask whether she's +coming to the races. Of course, I'll go," he decided, lifting +his head from the book. And as he vividly pictured the happiness +of seeing her, his face lighted up. + +"Send to my house, and tell them to have out the carriage and +three horses as quick as they can," he said to the servant, who +handed him the steak on a hot silver dish, and moving the dish up +he began eating. + +From the billiard room next door came the sound of balls +knocking, of talk and laughter. Two officers appeared at the +entrance-door: one, a young fellow, with a feeble, delicate +face, who had lately joined the regiment from the Corps of Pages; +the other, a plump, elderly officer, with a bracelet on his +wrist, and little eyes, lost in fat. + +Vronsky glanced at them, frowned, and looking down at his book as +though he had not noticed them, he proceeded to eat and read at +the same time. + +"What? Fortifying yourself for your work?" said the plump +officer, sitting down beside him. + +"As you see," responded Vronsky, knitting his brows, wiping his +mouth, and not looking at the officer. + +"So you're not afraid of getting fat?" said the latter, turning a +chair round for the young officer. + +"What?" said Vronsky angrily, making a wry face of disgust, and +showing his even teeth. + +"You're not afraid of getting fat?" + +"Waiter, sherry!" said Vronsky, without replying, and moving the +book to the other side of him, he went on reading. + +The plump officer took up the list of wines and turned to the +young officer. + +"You choose what we're to drink," he said, handing him the card, +and looking at him. + +"Rhine wine, please," said the young officer, stealing a timid +glance at Vronsky, and trying to pull his scarcely visible +mustache. Seeing that Vronsky did not turn round, the young +officer got up. + +"Let's go into the billiard room," he said. + +The plump officer rose submissively, and they moved towards the +door. + +At that moment there walked into the room the tall and well-built +Captain Yashvin. Nodding with an air of lofty contempt to the +two officers, he went up to Vronsky. + +"Ah! here he is!" he cried, bringing his big hand down heavily on +his epaulet. Vronsky looked round angrily, but his face lighted +up immediately with his characteristic expression of genial and +manly serenity. + +"That's it, Alexey," said the captain, in his loud baritone. +"You must just eat a mouthful, now, and drink only one tiny +glass." + +"Oh, I'm not hungry." + +"There go the inseparables," Yashvin dropped, glancing +sarcastically at the two officers who were at that instant +leaving the room. And he bent his long legs, swathed in tight +riding breeches, and sat down in the chair, too low for him, so +that his knees were cramped up in a sharp angle. + +"Why didn't you turn up at the Red Theater yesterday? Numerova +wasn't at all bad. Where were you?" + +"I was late at the Tverskoys'," said Vronsky. + +"Ah!" responded Yashvin. + +Yashvin, a gambler and a rake, a man not merely without moral +principles, but of immoral principles, Yashvin was Vronsky's +greatest friend in the regiment. Vronsky liked him both for his +exceptional physical strength, which he showed for the most part +by being able to drink like a fish, and do without sleep without +being in the slightest degree affected by it; and for his great +strength of character, which he showed in his relations with his +comrades and superior officers, commanding both fear and respect, +and also at cards, when he would play for tens of thousands and +however much he might have drunk, always with such skill and +decision that he was reckoned the best player in the English +Club. Vronsky respected and liked Yashvin particularly because +he felt Yashvin liked him, not for his name and his money, but +for himself. And of all men he was the only one with whom +Vronsky would have liked to speak of his love. He felt that +Yashvin, in spite of his apparent contempt for every sort of +feeling, was the only man who could, so he fancied, comprehend +the intense passion which now filled his whole life. Moreover, +he felt certain that Yashvin, as it was, took no delight in +gossip and scandal, and interpreted his feeling rightly, that is +to say, knew and believed that this passion was not a jest, not a +pastime, but something more serious and important. + +Vronsky had never spoken to him of his passion, but he was aware +that he knew all about it, and that he put the right +interpretation on it, and he was glad to see that in his eyes. + +"Ah! yes," he said, to the announcement that Vronsky had been at +the Tverskoys'; and his black eyes shining, he plucked at his +left mustache, and began twisting it into his mouth, a bad habit +he had. + +"Well, and what did you do yesterday? Win anything?" asked +Vronsky. + +"Eight thousand. But three don't count; he won't pay up." + +"Oh, then you can afford to lose over me," said Vronsky, +laughing. (Yashvin had bet heavily on Vronsky in the races.) + +"No chance of my losing. Mahotin's the only one that's risky." + +And the conversation passed to forecasts of the coming race, the +only thing Vronsky could think of just now. + +"Come along, I've finished," said Vronsky, and getting up he went +to the door. Yashvin got up too, stretching his long legs and +his long back. + +"It's too early for me to dine, but I must have a drink. I'll +come along directly. Hi, wine!" he shouted, in his rich voice, +that always rang out so loudly at drill, and set the windows +shaking now. + +"No, all right," he shouted again immediately after. "You're +going home, so I'll go with you." + +And he walked out with Vronsky. + + + +Chapter 20 + + +Vronsky was staying in a roomy, clean, Finnish hut, divided into +two by a partition. Petritsky lived with him in camp too. +Petritsky was asleep when Vronsky and Yashvin came into the hut. + +"Get up, don't go on sleeping," said Yashvin, going behind the +partition and giving Petritsky, who was lying with ruffled hair +and with his nose in the pillow, a prod on the shoulder. + +Petritsky jumped up suddenly onto his knees and looked round. + +"Your brother's been here," he said to Vronsky. "He waked me up, +damn him, and said he'd look in again." And pulling up the rug +he flung himself back on the pillow. "Oh, do shut up, Yashvin!" +he said, getting furious with Yashvin, who was pulling the rug +off him. "Shut up!" He turned over and opened his eyes. "You'd +better tell me what to drink; such a nasty taste in my mouth, +that..." + +"Brandy's better than anything," boomed Yashvin. "Tereshtchenko! +brandy for your master and cucumbers," he shouted, obviously +taking pleasure in the sound of his own voice. + +"Brandy, do you think? Eh?" queried Petritsky, blinking and +rubbing his eyes. "And you'll drink something? All right then, +we'll have a drink together! Vronsky, have a drink?" said +Petritsky, getting up and wrapping the tiger-skin rug round him. +He went to the door of the partition wall, raised his hands, and +hummed in French, "There was a king in Thule." "Vronsky, will +you have a drink?" + +"Go along," said Vronsky, putting on the coat his valet handed to +him. + +"Where are you off to?" asked Yashvin. "Oh, here are your three +horses," he added, seeing the carriage drive up. + +"To the stables, and I've got to see Bryansky, too, about the +horses," said Vronsky. + +Vronsky had as a fact promised to call at Bryansky's, some eight +miles from Peterhof, and to bring him some money owing for some +horses; and he hoped to have time to get that in too. But his +comrades were at once aware that he was not only going there. + +Petritsky, still humming, winked and made a pout with his lips, +as though he would say: "Oh, yes, we know your Bryansky." + +"Mind you're not late!" was Yashvin's only comment; and to change +the conversation: "How's my roan? is he doing all right?" he +inquired, looking out of the window at the middle one of the +three horses, which he had sold Vronsky. + +"Stop!" cried Petritsky to Vronsky as he was just going out. +"Your brother left a letter and a note for you. Wait a bit; +where are they?" + +Vronsky stopped. + +"Well, where are they?" + +"Where are they? That's just the question!" said Petritsky +solemnly, moving his forefinger upwards from his nose. + +"Come, tell me; this is silly!" said Vronsky smiling. + +"I have not lighted the fire. Here somewhere about." + +"Come, enough fooling! Where is the letter?" + +"No, I've forgotten really. Or was it a dream? Wait a bit, wait +a bit! But what's the use of getting in a rage. If you'd drunk +four bottles yesterday as I did you'd forget where you were +lying. Wait a bit, I'll remember!" + +Petritsky went behind the partition and lay down on his bed. + +"Wait a bit! This was how I was lying, and this was how he was +standing. Yes--yes--yes.... Here it is!"--and Petritsky pulled +a letter out from under the mattress, where he had hidden it. + +Vronsky took the letter and his brother's note. It was the +letter he was expecting--from his mother, reproaching him for +not having been to see her--and the note was from his brother to +say that he must have a little talk with him. Vronsky knew that +it was all about the same thing. "What business is it of +theirs!" thought Vronsky, and crumpling up the letters he thrust +them between the buttons of his coat so as to read them carefully +on the road. In the porch of the hut he was met by two officers; +one of his regiment and one of another. + +Vronsky's quarters were always a meeting place for all the +officers. + +"Where are you off to?" + +"I must go to Peterhof." + +"Has the mare come from Tsarskoe?" + +"Yes, but I've not seen her yet." + +"They say Mahotin's Gladiator's lame." + +"Nonsense! But however are you going to race in this mud?" said +the other. + +"Here are my saviors!" cried Petritsky, seeing them come in. +Before him stood the orderly with a tray of brandy and salted +cucumbers. "Here's Yashvin ordering me to drink a pick-me-up." + +"Well, you did give it to us yesterday," said one of those who +had come in; "you didn't let us get a wink of sleep all night." + +"Oh, didn't we make a pretty finish!" said Petritsky. "Volkov +climbed onto the roof and began telling us how sad he was. I +said: 'Let's have music, the funeral march!' He fairly dropped +asleep on the roof over the funeral march." + +"Drink it up; you positively must drink the brandy, and then +seltzer water and a lot of lemon," said Yashvin, standing over +Petritsky like a mother making a child take medicine, "and then a +little champagne--just a small bottle." + +"Come, there's some sense in that. Stop a bit, Vronsky. We'll +all have a drink." + +"No; good-bye all of you. I'm not going to drink today." + +"Why, are you gaining weight? All right, then we must have it +alone. Give us the seltzer water and lemon." + +"Vronsky!" shouted someone when he was already outside. + +"Well?" + +"You'd better get your hair cut, it'll weigh you down, especially +at the top." + +Vronsky was in fact beginning, prematurely, to get a little bald. +He laughed gaily, showing his even teeth, and pulling his cap over +the thin place, went out and got into his carriage. + +"To the stables!" he said, and was just pulling out the letters +to read them through, but he thought better of it, and put off +reading them so as not to distract his attention before looking +at the mare. "Later!" + + + +Chapter 21 + + +The temporary stable, a wooden shed, had been put up close to the +race course, and there his mare was to have been taken the +previous day. He had not yet seen her there. + +During the last few days he had not ridden her out for exercise +himself, but had put her in the charge of the trainer, and so now +he positively did not know in what condition his mare had arrived +yesterday and was today. He had scarcely got out of his carriage +when his groom, the so-called "stable boy," recognizing the +carriage some way off, called the trainer. A dry-looking +Englishman, in high boots and a short jacket, clean-shaven, +except for a tuft below his chin, came to meet him, walking with +the uncouth gait of jockey, turning his elbows out and swaying +from side to side. + +"Well, how's Frou-Frou?" Vronsky asked in English. + +"All right, sir," the Englishman's voice responded somewhere in +the inside of his throat. "Better not go in," he added, touching +his hat. "I've put a muzzle on her, and the mare's fidgety. +Better not go in, it'll excite the mare." + +"No, I'm going in. I want to look at her." + +"Come along, then," said the Englishman, frowning, and speaking +with his mouth shut, and, with swinging elbows, he went on in +front with his disjointed gait. + +They went into the little yard in front of the shed. A stable +boy, spruce and smart in his holiday attire, met them with a +broom in his hand, and followed them. In the shed there were +five horses in their separate stalls, and Vronsky knew that his +chief rival, Gladiator, a very tall chestnut horse, had been +brought there, and must be standing among them. Even more than +his mare, Vronsky longed to see Gladiator, whom he had never +seen. But he knew that by the etiquette of the race course it +was not merely impossible for him to see the horse, but improper +even to ask questions about him. Just as he was passing along +the passage, the boy opened the door into the second horse-box on +the left, and Vronsky caught a glimpse of a big chestnut horse +with white legs. He knew that this was Gladiator, but, with the +feeling of a man turning away from the sight of another man's +open letter, he turned round and went into Frou-Frou's stall. + +"The horse is here belonging to Mak...Mak...I never can say the +name," said the Englishman, over his shoulder, pointing his big +finger and dirty nail towards Gladiator's stall. + +"Mahotin? Yes, he's my most serious rival," said Vronsky. + +"If you were riding him," said the Englishman, "I'd bet on you." + +"Frou-Frou's more nervous; he's stronger," said Vronsky, smiling +at the compliment to his riding. + +"In a steeplechase it all depends on riding and on pluck," said +the Englishman. + +Of pluck--that is, energy and courage--Vronsky did not merely +feel that he had enough; what was of far more importance, he was +firmly convinced that no one in the world could have more of this +"pluck" than he had. + +"Don't you think I want more thinning down?" + +"Oh, no," answered the Englishman. "Please, don't speak loud. +The mare's fidgety," he added, nodding towards the horse-box, +before which they were standing, and from which came the sound of +restless stamping in the straw. + +He opened the door, and Vronsky went into the horse-box, dimly +lighted by one little window. In the horse-box stood a dark bay +mare, with a muzzle on, picking at the fresh straw with her +hoofs. Looking round him in the twilight of the horse-box, +Vronsky unconsciously took in once more in a comprehensive glance +all the points of his favorite mare. Frou-Frou was a beast of +medium size, not altogether free from reproach, from a +breeder's point of view. She was small-boned all over; though +her chest was extremely prominent in front, it was narrow. Her +hind-quarters were a little drooping, and in her fore-legs, and +still more in her hind-legs, there was a noticeable curvature. +The muscles of both hind- and fore-legs were not very thick; but +across her shoulders the mare was exceptionally broad, a +peculiarity specially striking now that she was lean from +training. The bones of her legs below the knees looked no +thicker than a finger from in front, but were extraordinarily +thick seen from the side. She looked altogether, except across +the shoulders, as it were, pinched in at the sides and pressed +out in depth. But she had in the highest degree the quality that +makes all defects forgotten: that quality was _blood_, the blood +_that tells_, as the English expression has it. The muscles stood +up sharply under the network of sinews, covered with the +delicate, mobile skin, soft as satin, and they were hard as bone. +Her clean-cut head, with prominent, bright, spirited eyes, +broadened out at the open nostrils, that showed the red blood in +the cartilage within. About all her figure, and especially her +head, there was a certain expression of energy, and, at the same +time, of softness. She was one of those creatures which seem +only not to speak because the mechanism of their mouth does not +allow them to. + +To Vronsky, at any rate, it seemed that she understood all he +felt at that moment, looking at her. + +Directly Vronsky went towards her, she drew in a deep breath, +and, turning back her prominent eye till the white looked +bloodshot, she started at the approaching figures from the +opposite side, shaking her muzzle, and shifting lightly from one +leg to the other. + +"There, you see how fidgety she is," said the Englishman. + +"There, darling! There!" said Vronsky, going up to the mare and +speaking soothingly to her. + +But the nearer he came, the more excited she grew. Only when he +stood by her head, she was suddenly quieter, while the muscles +quivered under her soft, delicate coat. Vronsky patted her +strong neck, straightened over her sharp withers a stray lock of +her mane that had fallen on the other side, and moved his face +near her dilated nostrils, transparent as a bat's wing. She drew +a loud breath and snorted out through her tense nostrils, +started, pricked up her sharp ear, and put out her strong, black +lip towards Vronsky, as though she would nip hold of his sleeve. +But remembering the muzzle, she shook it and again began +restlessly stamping one after the other her shapely legs. + +"Quiet, darling, quiet!" he said, patting her again over her +hind-quarters; and with a glad sense that his mare was in the +best possible condition, he went out of the horse-box. + +The mare's excitement had infected Vronsky. He felt that his +heart was throbbing, and that he, too, like the mare, longed to +move, to bite; it was both dreadful and delicious. + +"Well, I rely on you, then," he said to the Englishman; +"half-past six on the ground." + +"All right," said the Englishman. "Oh, where are you going, my +lord?" he asked suddenly, using the title "my lord," which he had +scarcely ever used before. + +Vronsky in amazement raised his head, and stared, as he knew how +to stare, not into the Englishman's eyes, but at his forehead, +astounded at the impertinence of his question. But realizing +that in asking this the Englishman had been looking at him not as +an employer, but as a jockey, he answered: + +"I've got to go to Bryansky's; I shall be home within an hour." + +"How often I'm asked that question today!" he said to himself, +and he blushed, a thing which rarely happened to him. The +Englishman looked gravely at him; and, as though he, too, knew +where Vronsky was going, he added: + +"The great thing's to keep quiet before a race," said he; "don't +get out of temper or upset about anything." + +"All right," answered Vronsky, smiling; and jumping into his +carriage, he told the man to drive to Peterhof. + +Before he had driven many paces away, the dark clouds that had +been threatening rain all day broke, and there was a heavy +downpour of rain. + +"What a pity!" thought Vronsky, putting up the roof of the +carriage. "It was muddy before, now it will be a perfect swamp." +As he sat in solitude in the closed carriage, he took out his +mother's letter and his brother's note, and read them through. + +Yes, it was the same thing over and over again. Everyone, his +mother, his brother, everyone thought fit to interfere in the +affairs of his heart. This interference aroused in him a feeling +of angry hatred--a feeling he had rarely known before. "What +business is it of theirs? Why does everybody feel called upon to +concern himself about me? And why do they worry me so? Just +because they see that this is something they can't understand. +If it were a common, vulgar, worldly intrigue, they would have +left me alone. They feel that this is something different, that +this is not a mere pastime, that this woman is dearer to me than +life. And this is incomprehensible, and that's why it annoys +them. Whatever our destiny is or may be, we have made it +ourselves, and we do not complain of it," he said, in the word +_we_ linking himself with Anna. "No, they must needs teach us +how to live. They haven't an idea of what happiness is; they +don't know that without our love, for us there is neither +happiness nor unhappiness--no life at all," he thought. + +He was angry with all of them for their interference just because +he felt in his soul that they, all these people, were right. He +felt that the love that bound him to Anna was not a momentary +impulse, which would pass, as worldly intrigues do pass, leaving +no other traces in the life of either but pleasant or unpleasant +memories. He felt all the torture of his own and her position, +all the difficulty there was for them, conspicuous as they were +in the eye of all the world, in concealing their love, in lying +and deceiving; and in lying, deceiving, feigning, and continually +thinking of others, when the passion that united them was so +intense that they were both oblivious of everything else but +their love. + +He vividly recalled all the constantly recurring instances of +inevitable necessity for lying and deceit, which were so against +his natural bent. He recalled particularly vividly the shame he +had more than once detected in her at this necessity for lying +and deceit. And he experienced the strange feeling that had +sometimes come upon him since his secret love for Anna. This was +a feeling of loathing for something--whether for Alexey +Alexandrovitch, or for himself, or for the whole world, he could +not have said. But he always drove away this strange feeling. +Now, too, he shook it off and continued the thread of his +thoughts. + +"Yes, she was unhappy before, but proud and at peace; and now she +cannot be at peace and feel secure in her dignity, though she +does not show it. Yes, we must put an end to it," he decided. + +And for the first time the idea clearly presented itself that it +was essential to put an end to this false position, and the +sooner the better. "Throw up everything, she and I, and hide +ourselves somewhere alone with our love," he said to himself. + + + +Chapter 22 + + +The rain did not last long, and by the time Vronsky arrived, his +shaft-horse trotting at full speed and dragging the trace-horses +galloping through the mud, with their reins hanging loose, the +sun had peeped out again, the roofs of the summer villas and the +old limetrees in the gardens on both sides of the principal +streets sparkled with wet brilliance, and from the twigs came a +pleasant drip and from the roofs rushing streams of water. He +thought no more of the shower spoiling the race course, but was +rejoicing now that--thanks to the rain--he would be sure to +find her at home and alone, as he knew that Alexey +Alexandrovitch, who had lately returned from a foreign watering +place, had not moved from Petersburg. + +Hoping to find her alone, Vronsky alighted, as he always did, to +avoid attracting attention, before crossing the bridge, and +walked to the house. He did not go up the steps to the street +door, but went into the court. + +"Has your master come?" he asked a gardener. + +"No, sir. The mistress is at home. But will you please go to +the front door; there are servants there," the gardener answered. +"They'll open the door." + +"No, I'll go in from the garden." + +And feeling satisfied that she was alone, and wanting to take her +by surprise, since he had not promised to be there today, and she +would certainly not expect him to come before the races, he +walked, holding his sword and stepping cautiously over the sandy +path, bordered with flowers, to the terrace that looked out upon +the garden. Vronsky forgot now all that he had thought on the +way of the hardships and difficulties of their position. He +thought of nothing but that he would see her directly, not in +imagination, but living, all of her, as she was in reality. He +was just going in, stepping on his whole foot so as not to creak, +up the worn steps of the terrace, when he suddenly remembered +what he always forgot, and what caused the most torturing side of +his relations with her, her son with his questioning--hostile, +as he fancied--eyes. + +This boy was more often than anyone else a check upon their +freedom. When he was present, both Vronsky and Anna did not +merely avoid speaking of anything that they could not have +repeated before everyone; they did not even allow themselves to +refer by hints to anything the boy did not understand. They had +made no agreement about this, it had settled itself. They would +have felt it wounding themselves to deceive the child. In his +presence they talked like acquaintances. But in spite of this +caution, Vronsky often saw the child's intent, bewildered glance +fixed upon him, and a strange shyness, uncertainty, at one time +friendliness, at another, coldness and reserve, in the boy's +manner to him; as though the child felt that between this man and +his mother there existed some important bond, the significance of +which he could not understand. + +As a fact, the boy did feel that he could not understand this +relation, and he tried painfully, and was not able to make clear +to himself what feeling he ought to have for this man. With a +child's keen instinct for every manifestation of feeling, he saw +distinctly that his father, his governess, his nurse,--all did +not merely dislike Vronsky, but looked on him with horror and +aversion, though they never said anything about him, while his +mother looked on him as her greatest friend. + +"What does it mean? Who is he? How ought I to love him? If I +don't know, it's my fault; either I'm stupid or a naughty boy," +thought the child. And this was what caused his dubious, +inquiring, sometimes hostile, expression, and the shyness and +uncertainty which Vronsky found so irksome. This child's +presence always and infallibly called up in Vronsky that strange +feeling of inexplicable loathing which he had experienced of +late. This child's presence called up both in Vronsky and in +Anna a feeling akin to the feeling of a sailor who sees by the +compass that the direction in which he is swiftly moving is far +from the right one, but that to arrest his motion is not in his +power, that every instant is carrying him further and further +away, and that to admit to himself his deviation from the right +direction is the same as admitting his certain ruin. + +This child, with his innocent outlook upon life, was the compass +that showed them the point to which they had departed from what +they knew, but did not want to know. + +This time Seryozha was not at home, and she was completely alone. +She was sitting on the terrace waiting for the return of her son, +who had gone out for his walk and been caught in the rain. She +had sent a manservant and a maid out to look for him. Dressed +in a white gown, deeply embroidered, she was sitting in a corner +of the terrace behind some flowers, and did not hear him. +Bending her curly black head, she pressed her forehead against a +cool watering pot that stood on the parapet, and both her lovely +hands, with the rings he knew so well, clasped the pot. The +beauty of her whole figure, her head, her neck, her hands, struck +Vronsky every time as something new and unexpected. He stood +still, gazing at her in ecstasy. But, directly he would have +made a step to come nearer to her, she was aware of his presence, +pushed away the watering pot, and turned her flushed face towards +him. + +"What's the matter? You are ill?" he said to her in French, +going up to her. He would have run to her, but remembering that +there might be spectators, he looked round towards the balcony +door, and reddened a little, as he always reddened, feeling that +he had to be afraid and be on his guard. + +"No, I'm quite well," she said, getting up and pressing his +outstretched hand tightly. "I did not expect...thee." + +"Mercy! what cold hands!" he said. + +"You startled me," she said. "I'm alone, and expecting +Seryozha; he's out for a walk; they'll come in from this side." + +But, in spite of her efforts to be calm, her lips were quivering. + +"Forgive me for coming, but I couldn't pass the day without +seeing you," he went on, speaking French, as he always did to +avoid using the stiff Russian plural form, so impossibly frigid +between them, and the dangerously intimate singular. + +"Forgive you? I'm so glad!" + +"But you're ill or worried," he went on, not letting go her hands +and bending over her. "What were you thinking of?" + +"Always the same thing," she said, with a smile. + +She spoke the truth. If ever at any moment she had been asked +what she was thinking of, she could have answered truly: of the +same thing, of her happiness and her unhappiness. She was +thinking, just when he came upon her, of this: why was it, she +wondered, that to others, to Betsy (she knew of her secret +connection with Tushkevitch) it was all easy, while to her it was +such torture? Today this thought gained special poignancy from +certain other considerations. She asked him about the races. He +answered her questions, and, seeing that she was agitated, trying +to calm her, he began telling her in the simplest tone the +details of his preparations for the races. + +"Tell him or not tell him?" she thought, looking into his quiet, +affectionate eyes. "He is so happy, so absorbed in his races +that he won't understand as he ought, he won't understand all the +gravity of this fact to us." + +"But you haven't told me what you were thinking of when I came +in," he said, interrupting his narrative; "please tell me!" + +She did not answer, and, bending her head a little, she looked +inquiringly at him from under her brows, her eyes shining under +their long lashes. Her hand shook as it played with a leaf she +had picked. He saw it, and his face expressed that utter +subjection, that slavish devotion, which had done so much to win +her. + +"I see something has happened. Do you suppose I can be at peace, +knowing you have a trouble I am not sharing? Tell me, for God's +sake," he repeated imploringly. + +"Yes, I shan't be able to forgive him if he does not realize all +the gravity of it. Better not tell; why put him to the proof?" +she thought, still staring at him in the same way, and feeling +the hand that held the leaf was trembling more and more. + +"For God's sake!" he repeated, taking her hand. + +"Shall I tell you?" + +"Yes, yes, yes . . ." + +"I'm with child," she said, softly and deliberately. The leaf in +her hand shook more violently, but she did not take her eyes off +him, watching how he would take it. He turned white, would have +said something, but stopped; he dropped her hand, and his head +sank on his breast. "Yes, he realizes all the gravity of it," +she thought, and gratefully she pressed his hand. + +But she was mistaken in thinking he realized the gravity of the +fact as she, a woman, realized it. On hearing it, he felt come +upon him with tenfold intensity that strange feeling of loathing +of someone. But at the same time, he felt that the turning-point +he had been longing for had come now; that it was impossible to +go on concealing things from her husband, and it was inevitable +in one way or another that they should soon put an end to their +unnatural position. But, besides that, her emotion physically +affected him in the same way. He looked at her with a look of +submissive tenderness, kissed her hand, got up, and, in silence, +paced up and down the terrace. + +"Yes," he said, going up to her resolutely. "Neither you nor I +have looked on our relations as a passing amusement, and now our +fate is sealed. It is absolutely necessary to put an end"--he +looked round as he spoke--"to the deception in which we are +living." + +"Put an end? How put an end, Alexey?" she said softly. + +She was calmer now, and her face lighted up with a tender smile. + +"Leave your husband and make our life one." + +"It is one as it is," she answered, scarcely audibly. + +"Yes, but altogether; altogether." + +"But how, Alexey, tell me how?" she said in melancholy mockery at +the hopelessness of her own position. "Is there any way out of +such a position? Am I not the wife of my husband?" + +"There is a way out of every position. We must take our line," +he said. "Anything's better than the position in which you're +living. Of course, I see how you torture yourself over +everything--the world and your son and your husband." + +"Oh, not over my husband," she said, with a quiet smile. "I +don't know him, I don't think of him. He doesn't exist." + +"You're not speaking sincerely. I know you. You worry about him +too." + +"Oh, he doesn't even know," she said, and suddenly a hot flush +came over her face; her cheeks, her brow, her neck crimsoned, and +tears of shame came into her eyes. "But we won't talk of him." + + + +Chapter 23 + + +Vronsky had several times already, though not so resolutely as +now, tried to bring her to consider their position, and every +time he had been confronted by the same superficiality and +triviality with which she met his appeal now. It was as though +there were something in this which she could not or would not +face, as though directly she began to speak of this, she, the +real Anna, retreated somehow into herself, and another strange +and unaccountable woman came out, whom he did not love, and whom +he feared, and who was in opposition to him. But today he was +resolved to have it out. + +"Whether he knows or not," said Vronsky, in his usual quiet and +resolute tone, "that's nothing to do with us. We cannot...you +cannot stay like this, especially now." + +"What's to be done, according to you?" she asked with the same +frivolous irony. She who had so feared he would take her +condition too lightly was now vexed with him for deducing from it +the necessity of taking some step. + +"Tell him everything, and leave him." + +"Very well, let us suppose I do that," she said. "Do you know +what the result of that would be? I can tell you it all +beforehand," and a wicked light gleamed in her eyes, that had +been so soft a minute before. "'Eh, you love another man, and +have entered into criminal intrigues with him?'" (Mimicking her +husband, she threw an emphasis on the word "criminal," as Alexey +Alexandrovitch did.) "'I warned you of the results in the +religious, the civil, and the domestic relation. You have not +listened to me. Now I cannot let you disgrace my name,--'" +"and my son," she had meant to say, but about her son she could +not jest,--"'disgrace my name, and'--and more in the same +style," she added. "In general terms, he'll say in his official +manner, and with all distinctness and precision, that he cannot +let me go, but will take all measures in his power to prevent +scandal. And he will calmly and punctually act in accordance +with his words. That's what will happen. He's not a man, but a +machine, and a spiteful machine when he's angry," she added, +recalling Alexey Alexandrovitch as she spoke, with all the +peculiarities of his figure and manner of speaking, and reckoning +against him every defect she could find in him, softening nothing +for the great wrong she herself was doing him. + +"But, Anna," said Vronsky, in a soft and persuasive voice, trying +to soothe her, "we absolutely must, anyway, tell him, and then be +guided by the line he takes." + +"What, run away?" + +"And why not run away? I don't see how we can keep on like this. +And not for my sake--I see that you suffer." + +"Yes, run away, and become your mistress," she said angrily. + +"Anna," he said, with reproachful tenderness. + +"Yes," she went on, "become your mistress, and complete the ruin +of..." + +Again she would have said "my son," but she could not utter that +word. + +Vronsky could not understand how she, with her strong and +truthful nature, could endure this state of deceit, and not long +to get out of it. But he did not suspect that the chief cause of +it was the word--_son_, which she could not bring herself to +pronounce. When she thought of her son, and his future attitude +to his mother, who had abandoned his father, she felt such terror +at what she had done, that she could not face it; but, like a +woman, could only try to comfort herself with lying assurances +that everything would remain as it always had been, and that it +was possible to forget the fearful question of how it would be +with her son. + +"I beg you, I entreat you," she said suddenly, taking his hand, +and speaking in quite a different tone, sincere and tender, +"never speak to me of that!" + +"But, Anna..." + +"Never. Leave it to me. I know all the baseness, all the horror +of my position; but it's not so easy to arrange as you think. +And leave it to me, and do what I say. Never speak to me of it. +Do you promise me?...No, no, promise!..." + +"I promise everything, but I can't be at peace, especially after +what you have told me. I can't be at peace, when you can't be at +peace...." + +"I?" she repeated. "Yes, I am worried sometimes; but that will +pass, if you will never talk about this. When you talk about +it--it's only then it worries me." + +"I don't understand," he said. + +"I know," she interrupted him, "how hard it is for your truthful +nature to lie, and I grieve for you. I often think that you have +ruined your whole life for me." + +"I was just thinking the very same thing," he said; "how could +you sacrifice everything for my sake? I can't forgive myself +that you're unhappy!" + +"I unhappy?" she said, coming closer to him, and looking at him +with an ecstatic smile of love. "I am like a hungry man who has +been given food. He may be cold, and dressed in rags, and +ashamed, but he is not unhappy. I unhappy? No, this is my +unhappiness...." + +She could hear the sound of her son's voice coming towards them, +and glancing swiftly round the terrace, she got up impulsively. +Her eyes glowed with the fire he knew so well; with a rapid +movement she raised her lovely hands, covered with rings, took +his head, looked a long look into his face, and, putting up her +face with smiling, parted lips, swiftly kissed his mouth and both +eyes, and pushed him away. She would have gone, but he held her +back. + +"When?" he murmured in a whisper, gazing in ecstasy at her. + +"Tonight, at one o'clock," she whispered, and, with a heavy +sigh, she walked with her light, swift step to meet her son. + +Seryozha had been caught by the rain in the big garden, and he +and his nurse had taken shelter in an arbor. + +"Well, _au revoir_," she said to Vronsky. "I must soon be getting +ready for the races. Betsy promised to fetch me." + +Vronsky, looking at his watch, went away hurriedly. + + + +Chapter 24 + + +When Vronsky looked at his watch on the Karenins' balcony, he was +so greatly agitated and lost in his thoughts that he saw the +figures on the watch's face, but could not take in what time it +was. He came out on to the high road and walked, picking his way +carefully through the mud, to his carriage. He was so completely +absorbed in his feeling for Anna, that he did not even think what +o'clock it was, and whether he had time to go to Bryansky's. He +had left him, as often happens, only the external faculty of +memory, that points out each step one has to take, one after the +other. He went up to his coachman, who was dozing on the box in +the shadow, already lengthening, of a thick limetree; he admired +the shifting clouds of midges circling over the hot horses, and, +waking the coachman, he jumped into the carriage, and told him to +drive to Bryansky's. It was only after driving nearly five miles +that he had sufficiently recovered himself to look at his watch, +and realize that it was half-past five, and he was late. + +There were several races fixed for that day: the Mounted Guards' +race, then the officers' mile-and-a-half race, then the +three-mile race, and then the race for which he was entered. He +could still be in time for his race, but if he went to Bryansky's +he could only just be in time, and he would arrive when the whole +of the court would be in their places. That would be a pity. +But he had promised Bryansky to come, and so he decided to drive +on, telling the coachman not to spare the horses. + +He reached Bryansky's, spent five minutes there, and galloped +back. This rapid drive calmed him. All that was painful in his +relations with Anna, all the feeling of indefiniteness left by +their conversation, had slipped out of his mind. He was thinking +now with pleasure and excitement of the race, of his being +anyhow, in time, and now and then the thought of the blissful +interview awaiting him that night flashed across his imagination +like a flaming light. + +The excitement of the approaching race gained upon him as he +drove further and further into the atmosphere of the races, +overtaking carriages driving up from the summer villas or out of +Petersburg. + +At his quarters no one was left at home; all were at the races, +and his valet was looking out for him at the gate. While he was +changing his clothes, his valet told him that the second race had +begun already, that a lot of gentlemen had been to ask for him, +and a boy had twice run up from the stables. Dressing without +hurry (he never hurried himself, and never lost his +self-possession), Vronsky drove to the sheds. From the sheds he +could see a perfect sea of carriages, and people on foot, +soldiers surrounding the race course, and pavilions swarming with +people. The second race was apparently going on, for just as he +went into the sheds he heard a bell ringing. Going towards the +stable, he met the white-legged chestnut, Mahotin's Gladiator, +being led to the race-course in a blue forage horsecloth, with +what looked like huge ears edged with blue. + +"Where's Cord?" he asked the stable-boy. + +"In the stable, putting on the saddle." + +In the open horse-box stood Frou-Frou, saddled ready. They were +just going to lead her out. + +"I'm not too late?" + +"All right! All right!" said the Englishman; "don't upset +yourself!" + +Vronsky once more took in in one glance the exquisite lines of +his favorite mare; who was quivering all over, and with an effort +he tore himself from the sight of her, and went out of the +stable. He went towards the pavilions at the most favorable +moment for escaping attention. The mile-and-a-half race was just +finishing, and all eyes were fixed on the horse-guard in front +and the light hussar behind, urging their horses on with a last +effort close to the winning post. From the center and outside of +the ring all were crowding to the winning post, and a group of +soldiers and officers of the horse-guards were shouting loudly +their delight at the expected triumph of their officer and +comrade. Vronsky moved into the middle of the crowd unnoticed, +almost at the very moment when the bell rang at the finish of the +race, and the tall, mudspattered horse-guard who came in first, +bending over the saddle, let go the reins of his panting gray +horse that looked dark with sweat. + +The horse, stiffening out its legs, with an effort stopped its +rapid course, and the officer of the horse-guards looked round +him like a man waking up from a heavy sleep, and just managed to +smile. A crowd of friends and outsiders pressed round him. + +Vronsky intentionally avoided that select crowd of the upper +world, which was moving and talking with discreet freedom before +the pavilions. He knew that Madame Karenina was there, and +Betsy, and his brother's wife, and he purposely did not go near +them for fear of something distracting his attention. But he was +continually met and stopped by acquaintances, who told him about +the previous races, and kept asking him why he was so late. + +At the time when the racers had to go to the pavilion to receive +the prizes, and all attention was directed to that point, +Vronsky's elder brother, Alexander, a colonel with heavy fringed +epaulets, came up to him. He was not tall, though as broadly +built as Alexey, and handsomer and rosier than he; he had a red +nose, and an open, drunken-looking face. + +"Did you get my note?" he said. "There's never any finding you." + +Alexander Vronsky, in spite of the dissolute life, and in +especial the drunken habits, for which he was notorious, was +quite one of the court circle. + +Now, as he talked to his brother of a matter bound to be +exceedingly disagreeable to him, knowing that the eyes of many +people might be fixed upon him, he kept a smiling countenance, as +though he were jesting with his brother about something of little +moment. + +"I got it, and I really can't make out what _you_ are worrying +yourself about," said Alexey. + +"I'm worrying myself because the remark has just been made to me +that you weren't here, and that you were seen in Peterhof on +Monday." + +"There are matters which only concern those directly interested +in them, and the matter you are so worried about is..." + +"Yes, but if so, you may as well cut the service...." + +"I beg you not to meddle, and that's all I have to say." + +Alexey Vronsky's frowning face turned white, and his prominent +lower jaw quivered, which happened rarely with him. Being a man +of very warm heart, he was seldom angry; but when he was angry, +and when his chin quivered, then, as Alexander Vronsky knew, he +was dangerous. Alexander Vronsky smiled gaily. + +"I only wanted to give you Mother's letter. Answer it, and don't +worry about anything just before the race. Bonne chance," he +added, smiling and he moved away from him. But after him another +friendly greeting brought Vronsky to a standstill. + +"So you won't recognize your friends! How are you, mon cher?" +said Stepan Arkadyevitch, as conspicuously brilliant in the midst +of all the Petersburg brilliance as he was in Moscow, his face +rosy, and his whiskers sleek and glossy. "I came up yesterday, +and I'm delighted that I shall see your triumph. When shall we +meet?" + +"Come tomorrow to the messroom," said Vronsky, and squeezing +him by the sleeve of his coat, with apologies, he moved away to +the center of the race course, where the horses were being led +for the great steeplechase. + +The horses who had run in the last race were being led home, +steaming and exhausted, by the stable-boys, and one after another +the fresh horses for the coming race made their appearance, for +the most part English racers, wearing horsecloths, and looking +with their drawn-up bellies like strange, huge birds. On the +right was led in Frou-Frou, lean and beautiful, lifting up her +elastic, rather long pasterns, as though moved by springs. Not +far from her they were taking the rug off the lop-eared +Gladiator. The strong, exquisite, perfectly correct lines of the +stallion, with his superb hind-quarters and excessively short +pasterns almost over his hoofs, attracted Vronsky's attention in +spite of himself. He would have gone up to his mare, but he was +again detained by an acquaintance. + +"Oh, there's Karenin!" said the acquaintance with whom he was +chatting. "He's looking for his wife, and she's in the middle of +the pavilion. Didn't you see her?" + +"No," answered Vronsky, and without even glancing round towards +the pavilion where his friend was pointing out Madame Karenina, +he went up to his mare. + +Vronsky had not had time to look at the saddle, about which he +had to give some direction, when the competitors were summoned to +the pavilion to receive their numbers and places in the row at +starting. Seventeen officers, looking serious and severe, many +with pale faces, met together in the pavilion and drew the +numbers. Vronsky drew the number seven. The cry was heard: +"Mount!" + +Feeling that with the others riding in the race, he was the +center upon which all eyes were fastened, Vronsky walked up to +his mare in that state of nervous tension in which he usually +became deliberate and composed in his movements. Cord, in honor +of the races, had put on his best clothes, a black coat buttoned +up, a stiffly starched collar, which propped up his cheeks, a +round black hat, and top boots. He was calm and dignified as +ever, and was with his own hands holding Frou-Frou by both reins, +standing straight in front of her. Frou-Frou was still trembling +as though in a fever. Her eye, full of fire, glanced sideways at +Vronsky. Vronsky slipped his finger under the saddle-girth. The +mare glanced aslant at him, drew up her lip, and twitched her +ear. The Englishman puckered up his lips, intending to indicate +a smile that anyone should verify his saddling. + +"Get up; you won't feel so excited." + +Vronsky looked round for the last time at his rivals. He knew +that he would not see them during the race. Two were already +riding forward to the point from which they were to start. +Galtsin, a friend of Vronsky's and one of his more formidable +rivals, was moving round a bay horse that would not let him +mount. A little light hussar in tight riding breeches rode off +at a gallop, crouched up like a cat on the saddle, in imitation +of English jockeys. Prince Kuzovlev sat with a white face on his +thoroughbred mare from the Grabovsky stud, while an English groom +led her by the bridle. Vronsky and all his comrades knew +Kuzovlev and his peculiarity of "weak nerves" and terrible +vanity. They knew that he was afraid of everything, afraid of +riding a spirited horse. But now, just because it was terrible, +because people broke their necks, and there was a doctor standing +at each obstacle, and an ambulance with a cross on it, and a +sister of mercy, he had made up his mind to take part in the +race. Their eyes met, and Vronsky gave him a friendly and +encouraging nod. Only one he did not see, his chief rival, +Mahotin on Gladiator. + +"Don't be in a hurry," said Cord to Vronsky, "and remember one +thing: don't hold her in at the fences, and don't urge her on; +let her go as she likes." + +"All right, all right," said Vronsky, taking the reins. + +"If you can, lead the race; but don't lose heart till the last +minute, even if you're behind." + +Before the mare had time to move, Vronsky stepped with an agile, +vigorous movement into the steel-toothed stirrup, and lightly and +firmly seated himself on the creaking leather of the saddle. +Getting his right foot in the stirrup, he smoothed the double +reins, as he always did, between his fingers, and Cord let go. + +As though she did not know which foot to put first, Frou-Frou +started, dragging at the reins with her long neck, and as though +she were on springs, shaking her rider from side to side. Cord +quickened his step, following him. The excited mare, trying to +shake off her rider first on one side and then the other, pulled +at the reins, and Vronsky tried in vain with voice and hand to +soothe her. + +They were just reaching the dammed-up stream on their way to the +starting point. Several of the riders were in front and several +behind, when suddenly Vronsky heard the sound of a horse +galloping in the mud behind him, and he was overtaken by Mahotin +on his white-legged, lop-eared Gladiator. Mahotin smiled, +showing his long teeth, but Vronsky looked angrily at him. He +did not like him, and regarded him now as his most formidable +rival. He was angry with him for galloping past and exciting his +mare. Frou-Frou started into a gallop, her left foot forward, +made two bounds, and fretting at the tightened reins, passed into +a jolting trot, bumping her rider up and down. Cord, too, +scowled, and followed Vronsky almost at a trot. + + + +Chapter 25 + + +There were seventeen officers in all riding in this race. The +race course was a large three-mile ring of the form of an ellipse +in front of the pavilion. On this course nine obstacles had been +arranged: the stream, a big and solid barrier five feet high, +just before the pavilion, a dry ditch, a ditch full of water, a +precipitous slope, an Irish barricade (one of the most difficult +obstacles, consisting of a mound fenced with brushwood, beyond +which was a ditch out of sight for the horses, so that the horse +had to clear both obstacles or might be killed); then two more +ditches filled with water, and one dry one; and the end of the +race was just facing the pavilion. But the race began not in the +ring, but two hundred yards away from it, and in that part of the +course was the first obstacle, a dammed-up stream, seven feet in +breadth, which the racers could leap or wade through as they +preferred. + +Three times they were ranged ready to start, but each time some +horse thrust itself out of line, and they had to begin again. +The umpire who was starting them, Colonel Sestrin, was beginning +to lose his temper, when at last for the fourth time he shouted +"Away!" and the racers started. + +Every eye, every opera glass, was turned on the brightly colored +group of riders at the moment they were in line to start. + +"They're off! They're starting!" was heard on all sides after +the hush of expectation. + +And little groups and solitary figures among the public began +running from place to place to get a better view. In the very +first minute the close group of horsemen drew out, and it could +be seen that they were approaching the stream in twos and +threes and one behind another. To the spectators it seemed as +though they had all started simultaneously, but to the racers +there were seconds of difference that had great value to them. + +Frou-Frou, excited and over-nervous, had lost the first moment, +and several horses had started before her, but before reaching +the stream, Vronsky, who was holding in the mare with all his +force as she tugged at the bridle, easily overtook three, and +there were left in front of him Mahotin's chestnut Gladiator, +whose hind-quarters were moving lightly and rhythmically up and +down exactly in front of Vronsky, and in front of all, the dainty +mare Diana bearing Kuzovlev more dead than alive. + +For the first instant Vronsky was not master either of himself or +his mare. Up to the first obstacle, the stream, he could not +guide the motions of his mare. + +Gladiator and Diana came up to it together and almost at the same +instant; simultaneously they rose above the stream and flew +across to the other side; Frou-Frou darted after them, as if +flying; but at the very moment when Vronsky felt himself in the +air, he suddenly saw almost under his mare's hoofs Kuzovlev, who +was floundering with Diana on the further side of the stream. +(Kuzovlev had let go the reins as he took the leap, and the mare +had sent him flying over her head.) Those details Vronsky learned +later; at the moment all he saw was that just under him, where +Frou-Frou must alight, Diana's legs or head might be in the way. +But Frou-Frou drew up her legs and back in the very act of +leaping, like a falling cat, and, clearing the other mare, +alighted beyond her. + +"O the darling!" thought Vronsky. + +After crossing the stream Vronsky had complete control of his +mare, and began holding her in, intending to cross the great +barrier behind Mahotin, and to try to overtake him in the clear +ground of about five hundred yards that followed it. + +The great barrier stood just in front of the imperial pavilion. +The Tsar and the whole court and crowds of people were all gazing +at them--at him, and Mahotin a length ahead of him, as they drew +near the "devil," as the solid barrier was called. Vronsky was +aware of those eyes fastened upon him from all sides, but he saw +nothing except the ears and neck of his own mare, the ground +racing to meet him, and the back and white legs of Gladiator +beating time swiftly before him, and keeping always the same +distance ahead. Gladiator rose, with no sound of knocking +against anything. With a wave of his short tail he disappeared +from Vronsky's sight. + +"Bravo!" cried a voice. + +At the same instant, under Vronsky's eyes, right before him +flashed the palings of the barrier. Without the slightest change +in her action his mare flew over it; the palings vanished, and he +heard only a crash behind him. The mare, excited by Gladiator's +keeping ahead, had risen too soon before the barrier, and grazed +it with her hind hoofs. But her pace never changed, and Vronsky, +feeling a spatter of mud in his face, realized that he was once +more the same distance from Gladiator. Once more he perceived in +front of him the same back and short tail, and again the same +swiftly moving white legs that got no further away. + +At the very moment when Vronsky thought that now was the time to +overtake Mahotin, Frou-Frou herself, understanding his thoughts, +without any incitement on his part, gained ground considerably, +and began getting alongside of Mahotin on the most favorable +side, close to the inner cord. Mahotin would not let her pass +that side. Vronsky had hardly formed the thought that he could +perhaps pass on the outer side, when Frou-Frou shifted her pace +and began overtaking him on the other side. Frou-Frou's +shoulder, beginning by now to be dark with sweat, was even with +Gladiator's back. For a few lengths they moved evenly. But +before the obstacle they were approaching, Vronsky began working +at the reins, anxious to avoid having to take the outer circle, +and swiftly passed Mahotin just upon the declivity. He caught a +glimpse of his mud-stained face as he flashed by. He even +fancied that he smiled. Vronsky passed Mahotin, but he was +immediately aware of him close upon him, and he never ceased +hearing the even-thudding hoofs and the rapid and still quite +fresh breathing of Gladiator. + +The next two obstacles, the water course and the barrier, were +easily crossed, but Vronsky began to hear the snorting and thud +of Gladiator closer upon him. He urged on his mare, and to his +delight felt that she easily quickened her pace, and the thud of +Gladiator's hoofs was again heard at the same distance away. + +Vronsky was at the head of the race, just as he wanted to be and +as Cord had advised, and now he felt sure of being the winner. +His excitement, his delight, and his tenderness for Frou-Frou +grew keener and keener. He longed to look round again, but he +did not dare do this, and tried to be cool and not to urge on his +mare so to keep the same reserve of force in her as he felt that +Gladiator still kept. There remained only one obstacle, the most +difficult; if he could cross it ahead of the others he would come +in first. He was flying towards the Irish barricade, Frou-Frou +and he both together saw the barricade in the distance, and both +the man and the mare had a moment's hesitation. He saw the +uncertainty in the mare's ears and lifted the whip, but at the +same time felt that his fears were groundless; the mare knew what +was wanted. She quickened her pace and rose smoothly, just as he +had fancied she would, and as she left the ground gave herself up +to the force of her rush, which carried her far beyond the ditch; +and with the same rhythm, without effort, with the same leg +forward, Frou-Frou fell back into her pace again. + +"Bravo, Vronsky!" he heard shouts from a knot of men--he knew +they were his friends in the regiment--who were standing at the +obstacle. He could not fail to recognize Yashvin's voice though +he did not see him. + +"O my sweet!" he said inwardly to Frou-Frou, as he listened for +what was happening behind. "He's cleared it!" he thought, +catching the thud of Gladiator's hoofs behind him. There +remained only the last ditch, filled with water and five feet +wide. Vronsky did not even look at it, but anxious to get in a +long way first began sawing away at the reins, lifting the mare's +head and letting it go in time with her paces. He felt that the +mare was at her very last reserve of strength; not her neck and +shoulders merely were wet, but the sweat was standing in drops on +her mane, her head, her sharp ears, and her breath came in short, +sharp gasps. But he knew that she had strength left more than +enough for the remaining five hundred yards. It was only from +feeling himself nearer the ground and from the peculiar +smoothness of his motion that Vronsky knew how greatly the mare +had quickened her pace. She flew over the ditch as though not +noticing it. She flew over it like a bird; but at the same +instant Vronsky, to his horror, felt that he had failed to keep +up with the mare's pace, that he had, he did not know how, made a +fearful, unpardonable mistake, in recovering his seat in the +saddle. All at once his position had shifted and he knew that +something awful had happened. He could not yet make out what had +happened, when the white legs of a chestnut horse flashed by +close to him, and Mahotin passed at a swift gallop. Vronsky was +touching the ground with one foot, and his mare was sinking on +that foot. He just had time to free his leg when she fell on one +side, gasping painfully, and, making vain efforts to rise with +her delicate, soaking neck, she fluttered on the ground at his +feet like a shot bird. The clumsy movement made by Vronsky had +broken her back. But that he only knew much later. At that +moment he knew only that Mahotin had flown swiftly by, while he +stood staggering alone on the muddy, motionless ground, and +Frou-Frou lay gasping before him, bending her head back and +gazing at him with her exquisite eyes. Still unable to realize +what had happened, Vronsky tugged at his mare's reins. Again she +struggled all over like a fish, and her shoulders setting the +saddle heaving, she rose on her front legs but unable to lift her +back, she quivered all over and again fell on her side. With a +face hideous with passion, his lower jaw trembling, and his +cheeks white, Vronsky kicked her with his heel in the stomach and +again fell to tugging at the rein. She did not stir, but +thrusting her nose into the ground, she simply gazed at her +master with her speaking eyes. + +"A--a--a!" groaned Vronsky, clutching at his head. "Ah! what +have I done!" he cried. "The race lost! And my fault! shameful, +unpardonable! And the poor darling, ruined mare! Ah! what have +I done!" + +A crowd of men, a doctor and his assistant, the officers of his +regiment, ran up to him. To his misery he felt that he was whole +and unhurt. The mare had broken her back, and it was decided to +shoot her. Vronsky could not answer questions, could not speak +to anyone. He turned, and without picking up his cap that had +fallen off, walked away from the race course, not knowing where +he was going. He felt utterly wretched. For the first time in +his life he knew the bitterest sort of misfortune, misfortune +beyond remedy, and caused by his own fault. + +Yashvin overtook him with his cap, and led him home, and half an +hour later Vronsky had regained his self-possession. But the +memory of that race remained for long in his heart, the cruelest +and bitterest memory of his life. + + + +Chapter 26 + + +The external relations of Alexey Alexandrovitch and his wife had +remained unchanged. The sole difference lay in the fact that he +was more busily occupied than ever. As in former years, at the +beginning of the spring he had gone to a foreign watering-place +for the sake of his health, deranged by the winter's work that +every year grew heavier. And just as always he returned in July +and at once fell to work as usual with increased energy. As +usual, too, his wife had moved for the summer to a villa out of +town, while he remained in Petersburg. From the date of their +conversation after the party at Princess Tverskaya's he had never +spoken again to Anna of his suspicions and his jealousies, and +that habitual tone of his bantering mimicry was the most +convenient tone possible for his present attitude to his wife. +He was a little colder to his wife. He simply seemed to be +slightly displeased with her for that first midnight +conversation, which she had repelled. In his attitude to her +there was a shade of vexation, but nothing more. "You would not +be open with me," he seemed to say, mentally addressing her; "so +much the worse for you. Now you may beg as you please, but I +won't be open with you. So much the worse for you!" he said +mentally, like a man who, after vainly attempting to extinguish a +fire, should fly in a rage with his vain efforts and say, "Oh, +very well then! you shall burn for this!" This man, so subtle +and astute in official life, did not realize all the +senselessness of such an attitude to his wife. He did not +realize it, because it was too terrible to him to realize his +actual position, and he shut down and locked and sealed up in his +heart that secret place where lay hid his feelings towards his +family, that is, his wife and son. He who had been such a +careful father, had from the end of that winter become peculiarly +frigid to his son, and adopted to him just the same bantering +tone he used with his wife. "Aha, young man!" was the greeting +with which he met him. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch asserted and believed that he had never in +any previous year had so much official business as that year. +But he was not aware that he sought work for himself that year, +that this was one of the means for keeping shut that secret place +where lay hid his feelings towards his wife and son and his +thoughts about them, which became more terrible the longer they +lay there. If anyone had had the right to ask Alexey +Alexandrovitch what he thought of his wife's behavior, the mild +and peaceable Alexey Alexandrovitch would have made no answer, +but he would have been greatly angered with any man who should +question him on that subject. For this reason there positively +came into Alexey Alexandrovitch's face a look of haughtiness and +severity whenever anyone inquired after his wife's health. +Alexey Alexandrovitch did not want to think at all about his +wife's behavior, and he actually succeeded in not thinking about +it at all. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch's permanent summer villa was in Peterhof, +and the Countess Lidia Ivanovna used as a rule to spend the +summer there, close to Anna, and constantly seeing her. That +year Countess Lidia Ivanovna declined to settle in Peterhof, was +not once at Anna Arkadyevna's, and in conversation with Alexey +Alexandrovitch hinted at the unsuitability of Anna's close +intimacy with Betsy and Vronsky. Alexey Alexandrovitch sternly +cut her short, roundly declaring his wife to be above suspicion, +and from that time began to avoid Countess Lidia Ivanovna. He +did not want to see, and did not see, that many people in society +cast dubious glances on his wife; he did not want to understand, +and did not understand, why his wife had so particularly insisted +on staying at Tsarskoe, where Betsy was staying, and not far from +the camp of Vronsky's regiment. He did not allow himself to +think about it, and he did not think about it; but all the same +though he never admitted it to himself, and had no proofs, not +even suspicious evidence, in the bottom of his heart he knew +beyond all doubt that he was a deceived husband, and he was +profoundly miserable about it. + +How often during those eight years of happy life with his wife +Alexey Alexandrovitch had looked at other men's faithless wives +and other deceived husbands and asked himself: "How can people +descend to that? how is it they don't put an end to such a +hideous position?" But now, when the misfortune had come upon +himself, he was so far from thinking of putting an end to the +position that he would not recognize it at all, would not +recognize it just because it was too awful, too unnatural. + +Since his return from abroad Alexey Alexandrovitch had twice been +at their country villa. Once he dined there, another time he +spent the evening there with a party of friends, but he had not +once stayed the night there, as it had been his habit to do in +previous years. + +The day of the races had been a very busy day for Alexey +Alexandrovitch; but when mentally sketching out the day in the +morning, he made up his mind to go to their country house to see +his wife immediately after dinner, and from there to the races, +which all the Court were to witness, and at which he was bound to +be present. He was going to see his wife, because he had +determined to see her once a week to keep up appearances. And +besides, on that day, as it was the fifteenth, he had to give his +wife some money for her expenses, according to their usual +arrangement. + +With his habitual control over his thoughts, though he thought +all this about his wife, he did not let his thoughts stray +further in regard to her. + +That morning was a very full one for Alexey Alexandrovitch. The +evening before, Countess Lidia Ivanovna had sent him a pamphlet +by a celebrated traveler in China, who was staying in Petersburg, +and with it she enclosed a note begging him to see the traveler +himself, as he was an extremely interesting person from various +points of view, and likely to be useful. Alexey Alexandrovitch +had not had time to read the pamphlet through in the evening, and +finished it in the morning. Then people began arriving with +petitions, and there came the reports, interviews, appointments, +dismissals, apportionment of rewards, pensions, grants, notes, +the workaday round, as Alexey Alexandrovitch called it, that +always took up so much time. Then there was private business of +his own, a visit from the doctor and the steward who managed his +property. The steward did not take up much time. He simply gave +Alexey Alexandrovitch the money he needed together with a brief +statement of the position of his affairs, which was not +altogether satisfactory, as it had happened that during that +year, owing to increased expenses, more had been paid out than +usual, and there was a deficit. But the doctor, a celebrated +Petersburg doctor, who was an intimate acquaintance of Alexey +Alexandrovitch, took up a great deal of time. Alexey +Alexandrovitch had not expected him that day, and was surprised +at his visit, and still more so when the doctor questioned him +very carefully about his health, listened to his breathing, and +tapped at his liver. Alexey Alexandrovitch did not know that his +friend Lidia Ivanovna, noticing that he was not as well as usual +that year, had begged the doctor to go and examine him. "Do this +for my sake," the Countess Lidia Ivanovna had said to him. + +"I will do it for the sake of Russia, countess," replied the +doctor. + +"A priceless man!" said the Countess Lidia Ivanovna. + +The doctor was extremely dissatisfied with Alexey Alexandrovitch. +He found the liver considerably enlarged, and the digestive +powers weakened, while the course of mineral waters had been +quite without effect. He prescribed more physical exercise as +far as possible, and as far as possible less mental strain, and +above all no worry--in other words, just what was as much out of +Alexey Alexandrovitch's power as abstaining from breathing. Then +he withdrew, leaving in Alexey Alexandrovitch an unpleasant sense +that something was wrong with him, and that there was no chance +of curing it. + +As he was coming away, the doctor chanced to meet on the +staircase an acquaintance of his, Sludin, who was secretary of +Alexey Alexandrovitch's department. They had been comrades at +the university, and though they rarely met, they thought highly +of each other and were excellent friends, and so there was no one +to whom the doctor would have given his opinion of a patient so +freely as to Sludin. + +"How glad I am you've been seeing him!" said Sludin. "He's not +well, and I fancy.... Well, what do you think of him?" + +"I'll tell you," said the doctor, beckoning over Sludin's head to +his coachman to bring the carriage round. "It's just this," said +the doctor, taking a finger of his kid glove in his white hands +and pulling it, "if you don't strain the strings, and then try to +break them, you'll find it a difficult job; but strain a string +to its very utmost, and the mere weight of one finger on the +strained string will snap it. And with his close assiduity, his +conscientious devotion to his work, he's strained to the utmost; +and there's some outside burden weighing on him, and not a light +one," concluded the doctor, raising his eyebrows significantly. +"Will you be at the races?" he added, as he sank into his seat in +the carriage. + +"Yes, yes, to be sure; it does waste a lot of time," the doctor +responded vaguely to some reply of Sludin's he had not caught. + +Directly after the doctor, who had taken up so much time, came +the celebrated traveler, and Alexey Alexandrovitch, by means of +the pamphlet he had only just finished reading and his previous +acquaintance with the subject, impressed the traveler by the +depth of his knowledge of the subject and the breadth and +enlightenment of his view of it. + +At the same time as the traveler there was announced a provincial +marshal of nobility on a visit to Petersburg, with whom Alexey +Alexandrovitch had to have some conversation. After his +departure, he had to finish the daily routine of business with +his secretary, and then he still had to drive round to call on a +certain great personage on a matter of grave and serious import. +Alexey Alexandrovitch only just managed to be back by five +o'clock, his dinner-hour, and after dining with his secretary, he +invited him to drive with him to his country villa and to the +races. + +Though he did not acknowledge it to himself, Alexey +Alexandrovitch always tried nowadays to secure the presence of a +third person in his interviews with his wife. + + + +Chapter 27 + + +Anna was upstairs, standing before the looking glass, and, with +Annushka's assistance, pinning the last ribbon on her gown when +she heard carriage wheels crunching the gravel at the entrance. + +"It's too early for Betsy," she thought, and glancing out of the +window she caught sight of the carriage and the black hat of +Alexey Alexandrovitch, and the ears that she knew so well +sticking up each side of it. "How unlucky! Can he be going to +stay the night?" she wondered, and the thought of all that might +come of such a chance struck her as so awful and terrible that, +without dwelling on it for a moment, she went down to meet him +with a bright and radiant face; and conscious of the presence of +that spirit of falsehood and deceit in herself that she had come +to know of late, she abandoned herself to that spirit and began +talking, hardly knowing what she was saying. + +"Ah, how nice of you!" she said, giving her husband her hand, and +greeting Sludin, who was like one of the family, with a smile. +"You're staying the night, I hope?" was the first word the spirit +of falsehood prompted her to utter; "and now we'll go together. +Only it's a pity I've promised Betsy. She's coming for me." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch knit his brows at Betsy's name. + +"Oh, I'm not going to separate the inseparables," he said in his +usual bantering tone. "I'm going with Mihail Vassilievitch. I'm +ordered exercise by the doctors too. I'll walk, and fancy myself +at the springs again." + +"There's no hurry," said Anna. "Would you like tea?" + +She rang. + +"Bring in tea, and tell Seryozha that Alexey Alexandrovitch is +here. Well, tell me, how have you been? Mihail Vassilievitch, +you've not been to see me before. Look how lovely it is out on +the terrace," she said, turning first to one and then to the +other. + +She spoke very simply and naturally, but too much and too fast. +She was the more aware of this from noticing in the inquisitive +look Mihail Vassilievitch turned on her that he was, as it were, +keeping watch on her. + +Mihail Vassilievitch promptly went out on the terrace. + +She sat down beside her husband. + +"You don't look quite well," she said. + +"Yes," he said; "the doctor's been with me today and wasted an +hour of my time. I feel that some one of our friends must have +sent him: my health's so precious, it seems." + +"No; what did he say?" + +She questioned him about his health and what he had been doing, +and tried to persuade him to take a rest and come out to her. + +All this she said brightly, rapidly, and with a peculiar +brilliance in her eyes. But Alexey Alexandrovitch did not now +attach any special significance to this tone of hers. He heard +only her words and gave them only the direct sense they bore. +And he answered simply, though jestingly. There was nothing +remarkable in all this conversation, but never after could Anna +recall this brief scene without an agonizing pang of shame. + +Seryozha came in preceded by his governess. If Alexey +Alexandrovitch had allowed himself to observe he would have +noticed the timid and bewildered eyes with which Seryozha glanced +first at his father and then at his mother. But he would not see +anything, and he did not see it. + +"Ah, the young man! He's grown. Really, he's getting quite a +man. How are you, young man?" + +And he gave his hand to the scared child. Seryozha had been shy +of his father before, and now, ever since Alexey Alexandrovitch +had taken to calling him young man, and since that insoluble +question had occurred to him whether Vronsky were a friend or a +foe, he avoided his father. He looked round towards his mother +as though seeking shelter. It was only with his mother that he +was at ease. Meanwhile, Alexey Alexandrovitch was holding his +son by the shoulder while he was speaking to the governess, and +Seryozha was so miserably uncomfortable that Anna saw he was on +the point of tears. + +Anna, who had flushed a little the instant her son came in, +noticing that Seryozha was uncomfortable, got up hurriedly, took +Alexey Alexandrovitch's hand from her son's shoulder, and kissing +the boy, led him out onto the terrace, and quickly came back. + +"It's time to start, though," said she, glancing at her watch. +"How is it Betsy doesn't come?..." + +"Yes," said Alexey Alexandrovitch, and getting up, he folded his +hands and cracked his fingers. "I've come to bring you some +money, too, for nightingales, we know, can't live on fairy +tales," he said. "You want it, I expect?" + +"No, I don't...yes, I do," she said, not looking at him, and +crimsoning to the roots of her hair. "But you'll come back here +after the races, I suppose?" + +"Oh, yes!" answered Alexey Alexandrovitch. "And here's the glory +of Peterhof, Princess Tverskaya," he added, looking out of the +window at the elegant English carriage with the tiny seats placed +extremely high. "What elegance! Charming! Well, let us be +starting too, then." + +Princess Tverskaya did not get out of her carriage, but her +groom, in high boots, a cape, and black hat, darted out at the +entrance. + +"I'm going; good-bye!" said Anna, and kissing her son, she went +up to Alexey Alexandrovitch and held out her hand to him. "It +was ever so nice of you to come." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch kissed her hand. + +"Well, _au revoir_, then! You'll come back for some tea; that's +delightful!" she said, and went out, gay and radiant. But as +soon as she no longer saw him, she was aware of the spot on her +hand that his lips had touched, and she shuddered with repulsion. + + + +Chapter 28 + + +When Alexey Alexandrovitch reached the race-course, Anna was +already sitting in the pavilion beside Betsy, in that pavilion +where all the highest society had gathered. She caught sight of +her husband in the distance. Two men, her husband and her lover, +were the two centers of her existence, and unaided by her +external senses she was aware of their nearness. She was aware +of her husband approaching a long way off, and she could not help +following him in the surging crowd in the midst of which he was +moving. She watched his progress towards the pavilion, saw him +now responding condescendingly to an ingratiating bow, now +exchanging friendly, nonchalant greetings with his equals, now +assiduously trying to catch the eye of some great one of this +world, and taking off his big round hat that squeezed the tips of +his ears. All these ways of his she knew, and all were hateful +to her. "Nothing but ambition, nothing but the desire to get on, +that's all there is in his soul," she thought; "as for these +lofty ideals, love of culture, religion, they are only so many +tools for getting on." + +From his glances towards the ladies' pavilion (he was staring +straight at her, but did not distinguish his wife in the sea of +muslin, ribbons, feathers, parasols and flowers) she saw that he +was looking for her, but she purposely avoided noticing him. + +"Alexey Alexandrovitch!" Princess Betsy called to him; "I'm sure +you don't see your wife: here she is." + +He smiled his chilly smile. + +"There's so much splendor here that one's eyes are dazzled," he +said, and he went into the pavilion. He smiled to his wife as a +man should smile on meeting his wife after only just parting from +her, and greeted the princess and other acquaintances, giving to +each what was due--that is to say, jesting with the ladies and +dealing out friendly greetings among the men. Below, near the +pavilion, was standing an adjutant-general of whom Alexey +Alexandrovitch had a high opinion, noted for his intelligence and +culture. Alexey Alexandrovitch entered into conversation with +him. + +There was an interval between the races, and so nothing hindered +conversation. The adjutant-general expressed his disapproval of +races. Alexey Alexandrovitch replied defending them. Anna heard +his high, measured tones, not losing one word, and every word +struck her as false, and stabbed her ears with pain. + +When the three-mile steeplechase was beginning, she bent forward +and gazed with fixed eyes at Vronsky as he went up to his horse +and mounted, and at the same time she heard that loathsome, +never-ceasing voice of her husband. She was in an agony of +terror for Vronsky, but a still greater agony was the +never-ceasing, as it seemed to her, stream of her husband's +shrill voice with its familiar intonations. + +"I'm a wicked woman, a lost woman," she thought; "but I don't +like lying, I can't endure falsehood, while as for _him_ (her +husband) it's the breath of his life--falsehood. He knows all +about it, he sees it all; what does he care if he can talk so +calmly? If he were to kill me, if he were to kill Vronsky, I +might respect him. No, all he wants is falsehood and propriety," +Anna said to herself, not considering exactly what it was she +wanted of her husband, and how she would have liked to see him +behave. She did not understand either that Alexey +Alexandrovitch's peculiar loquacity that day, so exasperating to +her, was merely the expression of his inward distress and +uneasiness. As a child that has been hurt skips about, putting +all his muscles into movement to drown the pain, in the same way +Alexey Alexandrovitch needed mental exercise to drown the +thoughts of his wife that in her presence and in Vronsky's, and +with the continual iteration of his name, would force themselves +on his attention. And it was as natural for him to talk well and +cleverly, as it is natural for a child to skip about. He was +saying: + +"Danger in the races of officers, of cavalry men, is an essential +element in the race. If England can point to the most brilliant +feats of cavalry in military history, it is simply owing to the +fact that she has historically developed this force both in +beasts and in men. Sport has, in my opinion, a great value, and +as is always the case, we see nothing but what is most +superficial." + +"It's not superficial," said Princess Tverskaya. "One of the +officers, they say, has broken two ribs." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled his smile, which uncovered his +teeth, but revealed nothing more. + +"We'll admit, princess, that that's not superficial," he said, +"but internal. But that's not the point," and he turned again to +the general with whom he was talking seriously; "we mustn't +forget that those who are taking part in the race are military +men, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that every +calling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part of +the duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prize-fighting or +Spanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specialized +trials of skill are a sign of development." + +"No, I shan't come another time; it's too upsetting," said +Princess Betsy. "Isn't it, Anna?" + +"It is upsetting, but one can't tear oneself away," said another +lady. "If I'd been a Roman woman I should never have missed a +single circus." + +Anna said nothing, and keeping her opera glass up, gazed always +at the same spot. + +At that moment a tall general walked through the pavilion. +Breaking off what he was saying, Alexey Alexandrovitch got up +hurriedly, though with dignity, and bowed low to the general. + +"You're not racing?" the officer asked, chaffing him. + +"My race is a harder one," Alexey Alexandrovitch responded +deferentially. + +And though the answer meant nothing, the general looked as though +he had heard a witty remark from a witty man, and fully relished +_la pointe de la sauce_. + +"There are two aspects," Alexey Alexandrovitch resumed: "those +who take part and those who look on; and love for such spectacles +is an unmistakable proof of a low degree of development in the +spectator, I admit, but..." + +"Princess, bets!" sounded Stepan Arkadyevitch's voice from +below, addressing Betsy. "Who's your favorite?" + +"Anna and I are for Kuzovlev," replied Betsy. + +"I'm for Vronsky. A pair of gloves?" + +"Done!" + +"But it is a pretty sight, isn't it?" + +Alexey Alexandrovitch paused while there was talking about him, +but he began again directly. + +"I admit that manly sports do not..." he was continuing. + +But at that moment the racers started, and all conversation +ceased. Alexey Alexandrovitch too was silent, and everyone stood +up and turned towards the stream. Alexey Alexandrovitch took no +interest in the race, and so he did not watch the racers, but +fell listlessly to scanning the spectators with his weary eyes. +His eyes rested upon Anna. + +Her face was white and set. She was obviously seeing nothing and +no one but one man. Her hand had convulsively clutched her fan, +and she held her breath. He looked at her and hastily turned +away, scrutinizing other faces. + +"But here's this lady too, and others very much moved as well; +it's very natural," Alexey Alexandrovitch told himself. He tried +not to look at her, but unconsciously his eyes were drawn to her. +He examined that face again, trying not to read what was so +plainly written on it, and against his own will, with horror read +on it what he did not want to know. + +The first fall--Kuzovlev's, at the stream--agitated everyone, +but Alexey Alexandrovitch saw distinctly on Anna's pale, +triumphant face that the man she was watching had not fallen. +When, after Mahotin and Vronsky had cleared the worst barrier, +the next officer had been thrown straight on his head at it and +fatally injured, and a shudder of horror passed over the whole +public, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that Anna did not even notice +it, and had some difficulty in realizing what they were talking +of about her. But more and more often, and with greater +persistence, he watched her. Anna, wholly engrossed as she was +with the race, became aware of her husband's cold eyes fixed +upon her from one side. + +She glanced round for an instant, looked inquiringly at him, and +with a slight frown turned away again. + +"Ah, I don't care!" she seemed to say to him, and she did not +once glance at him again. + +The race was an unlucky one, and of the seventeen officers who +rode in it more than half were thrown and hurt. Towards the end +of the race everyone was in a state of agitation, which was +intensified by the fact that the Tsar was displeased. + + + +Chapter 29 + + +Everyone was loudly expressing disapprobation, everyone was +repeating a phrase some one had uttered--"The lions and +gladiators will be the next thing," and everyone was feeling +horrified; so that when Vronsky fell to the ground, and Anna +moaned aloud, there was nothing very out of the way in it. But +afterwards a change came over Anna's face which really was beyond +decorum. She utterly lost her head. She began fluttering like a +caged bird, at one moment would have got up and moved away, at +the next turned to Betsy. + +"Let us go, let us go!" she said. + +But Betsy did not hear her. She was bending down, talking to a +general who had come up to her. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch went up to Anna and courteously offered her +his arm. + +"Let us go, if you like," he said in French, but Anna was +listening to the general and did not notice her husband. + +"He's broken his leg too, so they say," the general was saying. +"This is beyond everything." + +Without answering her husband, Anna lifted her opera glass and +gazed towards the place where Vronsky had fallen; but it was so +far off, and there was such a crowd of people about it, that she +could make out nothing. She laid down the opera glass, and would +have moved away, but at that moment an officer galloped up and +made some announcement to the Tsar. Anna craned forward, +listening. + +"Stiva! Stiva!" she cried to her brother. + +But her brother did not hear her. Again she would have moved +away. + +"Once more I offer you my arm if you want to be going," said +Alexey Alexandrovitch, reaching towards her hand. + +She drew back from him with aversion, and without looking in his +face answered: + +"No, no, let me be, I'll stay." + +She saw now that from the place of Vronsky's accident an officer +was running across the course towards the pavilion. Betsy waved +her handkerchief to him. The officer brought the news that the +rider was not killed, but the horse had broken its back. + +On hearing this Anna sat down hurriedly, and hid her face in her +fan. Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that she was weeping, and could +not control her tears, nor even the sobs that were shaking her +bosom. Alexey Alexandrovitch stood so as to screen her, giving +her time to recover herself. + +"For the third time I offer you my arm," he said to her after a +little time, turning to her. Anna gazed at him and did not know +what to say. Princess Betsy came to her rescue. + +"No, Alexey Alexandrovitch; I brought Anna and I promised to take +her home," put in Betsy. + +"Excuse me, princess," he said, smiling courteously but looking +her very firmly in the face, "but I see that Anna's not very +well, and I wish her to come home with me." + +Anna looked about her in a frightened way, got up submissively, +and laid her hand on her husband's arm. + +"I'll send to him and find out, and let you know," Betsy +whispered to her. + +As they left the pavilion, Alexey Alexandrovitch, as always, +talked to those he met, and Anna had, as always, to talk and +answer; but she was utterly beside herself, and moved hanging on +her husband's arm as though in a dream. + +"Is he killed or not? Is it true? Will he come or not? Shall I +see him today?" she was thinking. + +She took her seat in her husband's carriage in silence, and in +silence drove out of the crowd of carriages. In spite of all he +had seen, Alexey Alexandrovitch still did not allow himself to +consider his wife's real condition. He merely saw the outward +symptoms. He saw that she was behaving unbecomingly, and +considered it his duty to tell her so. But it was very difficult +for him not to say more, to tell her nothing but that. He opened +his mouth to tell her she had behaved unbecomingly, but he could +not help saying something utterly different. + +"What an inclination we all have, though, for these cruel +spectacles," he said. "I observe..." + +"Eh? I don't understand," said Anna contemptuously. + +He was offended, and at once began to say what he had meant to +say. + +"I am obliged to tell you," he began. + +"So now we are to have it out," she thought, and she felt +frightened. + +"I am obliged to tell you that your behavior has been unbecoming +today," he said to her in French. + +"In what way has my behavior been unbecoming?" she said aloud, +turning her head swiftly and looking him straight in the face, +not with the bright expression that seemed covering something, +but with a look of determination, under which she concealed with +difficulty the dismay she was feeling. + +"Mind," he said, pointing to the open window opposite the +coachman. + +He got up and pulled up the window. + +"What did you consider unbecoming?" she repeated. + +"The despair you were unable to conceal at the accident to one of +the riders." + +He waited for her to answer, but she was silent, looking straight +before her. + +"I have already begged you so to conduct yourself in society that +even malicious tongues can find nothing to say against you. +There was a time when I spoke of your inward attitude, but I am +not speaking of that now. Now I speak only of your external +attitude. You have behaved improperly, and I would wish it not +to occur again." + +She did not hear half of what he was saying; she felt +panic-stricken before him, and was thinking whether it was true +that Vronsky was not killed. Was it of him they were speaking +when they said the rider was unhurt, but the horse had broken its +back? She merely smiled with a pretense of irony when he +finished, and made no reply, because she had not heard what he +said. Alexey Alexandrovitch had begun to speak boldly, but as he +realized plainly what he was speaking of, the dismay she was +feeling infected him too. He saw the smile, and a strange +misapprehension came over him. + +"She is smiling at my suspicions. Yes, she will tell me directly +what she told me before; that there is no foundation for my +suspicions, that it's absurd." + +At that moment, when the revelation of everything was hanging +over him, there was nothing he expected so much as that she would +answer mockingly as before that his suspicions were absurd and +utterly groundless. So terrible to him was what he knew that now +he was ready to believe anything. But the expression of her +face, scared and gloomy, did not now promise even deception. + +"Possibly I was mistaken," said he. "If so, I beg your pardon." + +"No, you were not mistaken," she said deliberately, looking +desperately into his cold face. "You were not mistaken. I was, +and I could not help being in despair. I hear you, but I am +thinking of him. I love him, I am his mistress; I can't bear +you; I'm afraid of you, and I hate you.... You can do what you +like to me." + +And dropping back into the corner of the carriage, she broke into +sobs, hiding her face in her hands. Alexey Alexandrovitch did +not stir, and kept looking straight before him. But his whole +face suddenly bore the solemn rigidity of the dead, and his +expression did not change during the whole time of the drive +home. On reaching the house he turned his head to her, still +with the same expression. + +"Very well! But I expect a strict observance of the external +forms of propriety till such time"--his voice shook--"as I may +take measures to secure my honor and communicate them to you." + +He got out first and helped her to get out. Before the servants +he pressed her hand, took his seat in the carriage, and drove +back to Petersburg. Immediately afterwards a footman came from +Princess Betsy and brought Anna a note. + +"I sent to Alexey to find out how he is, and he writes me he is +quite well and unhurt, but in despair." + +"So _he_ will be here," she thought. "What a good thing I told +him all!" + +She glanced at her watch. She had still three hours to wait, and +the memories of their last meeting set her blood in flame. + +"My God, how light it is! It's dreadful, but I do love to see +his face, and I do love this fantastic light.... My husband! +Oh! yes.... Well, thank God! everything's over with him." + + + +Chapter 30 + + +In the little German watering-place to which the Shtcherbatskys +had betaken themselves, as in all places indeed where people are +gathered together, the usual process, as it were, of the +crystallization of society went on, assigning to each member of +that society a definite and unalterable place. Just as the +particle of water in frost, definitely and unalterably, takes the +special form of the crystal of snow, so each new person that +arrived at the springs was at once placed in his special place. + +_Fuerst_ Shtcherbatsky, _sammt Gemahlin und Tochter_, by the +apartments they took, and from their name and from the friends +they made, were immediately crystallized into a definite place +marked out for them. + +There was visiting the watering-place that year a real German +Fuerstin, in consequence of which the crystallizing process went +on more vigorously than ever. Princess Shtcherbatskaya wished, +above everything, to present her daughter to this German +princess, and the day after their arrival she duly performed this +rite. Kitty made a low and graceful curtsey in the _very simple_, +that is to say, very elegant frock that had been ordered her from +Paris. The German princess said, "I hope the roses will soon +come back to this pretty little face," and for the Shtcherbatskys +certain definite lines of existence were at once laid down from +which there was no departing. The Shtcherbatskys made the +acquaintance too of the family of an English Lady Somebody, and +of a German countess and her son, wounded in the last war, and of +a learned Swede, and of M. Canut and his sister. But yet +inevitably the Shtcherbatskys were thrown most into the society +of a Moscow lady, Marya Yevgenyevna Rtishtcheva and her daughter, +whom Kitty disliked, because she had fallen ill, like herself, +over a love affair, and a Moscow colonel, whom Kitty had known +from childhood, and always seen in uniform and epaulets, and who +now, with his little eyes and his open neck and flowered cravat, +was uncommonly ridiculous and tedious, because there was no +getting rid of him. When all this was so firmly established, +Kitty began to be very much bored, especially as the prince went +away to Carlsbad and she was left alone with her mother. She +took no interest in the people she knew, feeling that nothing +fresh would come of them. Her chief mental interest in the +watering-place consisted in watching and making theories about +the people she did not know. It was characteristic of Kitty that +she always imagined everything in people in the most favorable +light possible, especially so in those she did not know. And now +as she made surmises as to who people were, what were their +relations to one another, and what they were like, Kitty endowed +them with the most marvelous and noble characters, and found +confirmation of her idea in her observations. + +Of these people the one that attracted her most was a Russian +girl who had come to the watering-place with an invalid Russian +lady, Madame Stahl, as everyone called her. Madame Stahl +belonged to the highest society, but she was so ill that she +could not walk, and only on exceptionally fine days made her +appearance at the springs in an invalid carriage. But it was not +so much from ill-health as from pride--so Princess +Shtcherbatskaya interpreted it--that Madame Stahl had not made +the acquaintance of anyone among the Russians there. The Russian +girl looked after Madame Stahl, and besides that, she was, as +Kitty observed, on friendly terms with all the invalids who were +seriously ill, and there were many of them at the springs, and +looked after them in the most natural way. This Russian girl was +not, as Kitty gathered, related to Madame Stahl, nor was she a +paid attendant. Madame Stahl called her Varenka, and other +people called her "Mademoiselle Varenka." Apart from the +interest Kitty took in this girl's relations with Madame Stahl +and with other unknown persons, Kitty, as often happened, felt an +inexplicable attraction to Mademoiselle Varenka, and was aware +when their eyes met that she too liked her. + +Of Mademoiselle Varenka one would not say that she had passed her +first youth, but she was, as it were, a creature without youth; +she might have been taken for nineteen or for thirty. If her +features were criticized separately, she was handsome rather than +plain, in spite of the sickly hue of her face. She would have +been a good figure, too, if it had not been for her extreme +thinness and the size of her head, which was too large for her +medium height. But she was not likely to be attractive to men. +She was like a fine flower, already past its bloom and without +fragrance, though the petals were still unwithered. Moreover, +she would have been unattractive to men also from the lack of +just what Kitty had too much of--of the suppressed fire of +vitality, and the consciousness of her own attractiveness. + +She always seemed absorbed in work about which there could be no +doubt, and so it seemed she could not take interest in anything +outside it. It was just this contrast with her own position that +was for Kitty the great attraction of Mademoiselle Varenka. +Kitty felt that in her, in her manner of life, she would find an +example of what she was now so painfully seeking: interest in +life, a dignity in life--apart from the worldly relations of +girls with men, which so revolted Kitty, and appeared to her now +as a shameful hawking about of goods in search of a purchaser. +The more attentively Kitty watched her unknown friend, the more +convinced she was this girl was the perfect creature she fancied +her, and the more eagerly she wished to make her acquaintance. + +The two girls used to meet several times a day, and every time +they met, Kitty's eyes said: "Who are you? What are you? Are +you really the exquisite creature I imagine you to be? But for +goodness' sake don't suppose," her eyes added, "that I would +force my acquaintance on you, I simply admire you and like you." +"I like you too, and you're very, very sweet. And I should like +you better still, if I had time," answered the eyes of the +unknown girl. Kitty saw indeed, that she was always busy. +Either she was taking the children of a Russian family home from +the springs, or fetching a shawl for a sick lady, and wrapping +her up in it, or trying to interest an irritable invalid, or +selecting and buying cakes for tea for someone. + +Soon after the arrival of the Shtcherbatskys there appeared in +the morning crowd at the springs two persons who attracted +universal and unfavorable attention. These were a tall man with +a stooping figure, and huge hands, in an old coat too short for +him, with black, simple, and yet terrible eyes, and a pockmarked, +kind-looking woman, very badly and tastelessly dressed. +Recognizing these persons as Russians, Kitty had already in her +imagination begun constructing a delightful and touching romance +about them. But the princess, having ascertained from the +visitors' list that this was Nikolay Levin and Marya Nikolaevna, +explained to Kitty what a bad man this Levin was, and all her +fancies about these two people vanished. Not so much from what +her mother told her, as from the fact that it was Konstantin's +brother, this pair suddenly seemed to Kitty intensely unpleasant. +This Levin, with his continual twitching of his head, aroused in +her now an irrepressible feeling of disgust. + +It seemed to her that his big, terrible eyes, which persistently +pursued her, expressed a feeling of hatred and contempt, and she +tried to avoid meeting him. + + + +Chapter 31 + + +It was a wet day; it had been raining all the morning, and the +invalids, with their parasols, had flocked into the arcades. + +Kitty was walking there with her mother and the Moscow colonel, +smart and jaunty in his European coat, bought ready-made at +Frankfort. They were walking on one side of the arcade, trying +to avoid Levin, who was walking on the other side. Varenka, in +her dark dress, in a black hat with a turn-down brim, was walking +up and down the whole length of the arcade with a blind +Frenchwoman, and, every time she met Kitty, they exchanged +friendly glances. + +"Mamma, couldn't I speak to her?" said Kitty, watching her +unknown friend, and noticing that she was going up to the spring, +and that they might come there together. + +"Oh, if you want to so much, I'll find out about her first and +make her acquaintance myself," answered her mother. "What do you +see in her out of the way? A companion, she must be. If you +like, I'll make acquaintance with Madame Stahl; I used to know +her _belle-soeur_," added the princess, lifting her head haughtily. + +Kitty knew that the princess was offended that Madame Stahl had +seemed to avoid making her acquaintance. Kitty did not insist. + +"How wonderfully sweet she is!" she said, gazing at Varenka just +as she handed a glass to the Frenchwoman. "Look how natural and +sweet it all is." + +"It's so funny to see your _engouements_," said the princess. +"No, we'd better go back," she added, noticing Levin coming towards +them with his companion and a German doctor, to whom he was +talking very noisily and angrily. + +They turned to go back, when suddenly they heard, not noisy talk, +but shouting. Levin, stopping short, was shouting at the doctor, +and the doctor, too, was excited. A crowd gathered about them. +The princess and Kitty beat a hasty retreat, while the colonel +joined the crowd to find out what was the matter. + +A few minutes later the colonel overtook them. + +"What was it?" inquired the princess. + +"Scandalous and disgraceful!" answered the colonel. "The one +thing to be dreaded is meeting Russians abroad. That tall +gentleman was abusing the doctor, flinging all sorts of insults +at him because he wasn't treating him quite as he liked, and he +began waving his stick at him. It's simply a scandal!" + +"Oh, how unpleasant!" said the princess. "Well, and how did it +end?" + +"Luckily at that point that...the one in the mushroom hat... +intervened. A Russian lady, I think she is," said the colonel. + +"Mademoiselle Varenka?" asked Kitty. + +"Yes, yes. She came to the rescue before anyone; she took the +man by the arm and led him away." + +"There, mamma," said Kitty; "you wonder that I'm enthusiastic +about her." + +The next day, as she watched her unknown friend, Kitty noticed +that Mademoiselle Varenka was already on the same terms with +Levin and his companion as with her other _proteges_. She went up +to them, entered into conversation with them, and served as +interpreter for the woman, who could not speak any foreign +language. + +Kitty began to entreat her mother still more urgently to let her +make friends with Varenka. And, disagreeable as it was to the +princess to seem to take the first step in wishing to make the +acquaintance of Madame Stahl, who thought fit to give herself +airs, she made inquiries about Varenka, and, having ascertained +particulars about her tending to prove that there could be no +harm though little good in the acquaintance, she herself +approached Varenka and made acquaintance with her. + +Choosing a time when her daughter had gone to the spring, while +Varenka had stopped outside the baker's, the princess went up to +her. + +"Allow me to make your acquaintance," she said, with her +dignified smile. "My daughter has lost her heart to you," she +said. "Possibly you do not know me. I am..." + +"That feeling is more than reciprocal, princess," Varenka +answered hurriedly. + +"What a good deed you did yesterday to our poor compatriot!" said +the princess. + +Varenka flushed a little. "I don't remember. I don't think I +did anything," she said. + +"Why, you saved that Levin from disagreeable consequences." + +"Yes, _sa compagne_ called me, and I tried to pacify him, he's +very ill, and was dissatisfied with the doctor. I'm used to +looking after such invalids." + +"Yes, I've heard you live at Mentone with your aunt--I think-- +Madame Stahl: I used to know her _belle-soeur_." + +"No, she's not my aunt. I call her mamma, but I am not related +to her; I was brought up by her," answered Varenka, flushing a +little again. + +This was so simply said, and so sweet was the truthful and candid +expression of her face, that the princess saw why Kitty had taken +such a fancy to Varenka. + +"Well, and what's this Levin going to do?" asked the princess. + +"He's going away," answered Varenka. + +At that instant Kitty came up from the spring beaming with +delight that her mother had become acquainted with her unknown +friend. + +"Well, see, Kitty, your intense desire to make friends with +Mademoiselle. . ." + +"Varenka," Varenka put in smiling, "that's what everyone calls +me." + +Kitty blushed with pleasure, and slowly, without speaking, +pressed her new friend's hand, which did not respond to her +pressure, but lay motionless in her hand. The hand did not +respond to her pressure, but the face of Mademoiselle Varenka +glowed with a soft, glad, though rather mournful smile, that +showed large but handsome teeth. + +"I have long wished for this too," she said. + +"But you are so busy." + +"Oh, no, I'm not at all busy," answered Varenka, but at that +moment she had to leave her new friends because two little +Russian girls, children of an invalid, ran up to her. + +"Varenka, mamma's calling!" they cried. + +And Varenka went after them. + + + +Chapter 32 + + +The particulars which the princess had learned in regard to +Varenka's past and her relations with Madame Stahl were as +follows: + +Madame Stahl, of whom some people said that she had worried her +husband out of his life, while others said it was he who had made +her wretched by his immoral behavior, had always been a woman of +weak health and enthusiastic temperament. When, after her +separation from her husband, she gave birth to her only child, +the child had died almost immediately, and the family of Madame +Stahl, knowing her sensibility, and fearing the news would kill +her, had substituted another child, a baby born the same night +and in the same house in Petersburg, the daughter of the chief +cook of the Imperial Household. This was Varenka. Madame Stahl +learned later on that Varenka was not her own child, but she went +on bringing her up, especially as very soon afterwards Varenka +had not a relation of her own living. Madame Stahl had now been +living more than ten years continuously abroad, in the south, +never leaving her couch. And some people said that Madame Stahl +had made her social position as a philanthropic, highly religious +woman; other people said she really was at heart the highly +ethical being, living for nothing but the good of her +fellow creatures, which she represented herself to be. No one +knew what her faith was--Catholic, Protestant, or Orthodox. But +one fact was indubitable--she was in amicable relations with the +highest dignitaries of all the churches and sects. + +Varenka lived with her all the while abroad, and everyone who +knew Madame Stahl knew and liked Mademoiselle Varenka, as +everyone called her. + +Having learned all these facts, the princess found nothing to +object to in her daughter's intimacy with Varenka, more +especially as Varenka's breeding and education were of the +best--she spoke French and English extremely well--and what was +of the most weight, brought a message from Madame Stahl +expressing her regret that she was prevented by her ill health +from making the acquaintance of the princess. + +After getting to know Varenka, Kitty became more and more +fascinated by her friend, and every day she discovered new +virtues in her. + +The princess, hearing that Varenka had a good voice, asked her to +come and sing to them in the evening. + +"Kitty plays, and we have a piano; not a good one, it's true, but +you will give us so much pleasure," said the princess with her +affected smile, which Kitty disliked particularly just then, +because she noticed that Varenka had no inclination to sing. +Varenka came, however, in the evening and brought a roll of music +with her. The princess had invited Marya Yevgenyevna and her +daughter and the colonel. + +Varenka seemed quite unaffected by there being persons present +she did not know, and she went directly to the piano. She could +not accompany herself, but she could sing music at sight very +well. Kitty, who played well, accompanied her. + +"You have an extraordinary talent," the princess said to her +after Varenka had sung the first song extremely well. + +Marya Yevgenyevna and her daughter expressed their thanks and +admiration. + +"Look," said the colonel, looking out of the window, "what an +audience has collected to listen to you." There actually was +quite a considerable crowd under the windows. + +"I am very glad it gives you pleasure," Varenka answered simply. + +Kitty looked with pride at her friend. She was enchanted by her +talent, and her voice, and her face, but most of all by her +manner, by the way Varenka obviously thought nothing of her +singing and was quite unmoved by their praises. She seemed only +to be asking: "Am I to sing again, or is that enough?" + +"If it had been I," thought Kitty, "how proud I should have been! +How delighted I should have been to see that crowd under the +windows! But she's utterly unmoved by it. Her only motive is to +avoid refusing and to please mamma. What is there in her? What +is it gives her the power to look down on everything, to be calm +independently of everything? How I should like to know it and to +learn it of her!" thought Kitty, gazing into her serene face. +The princess asked Varenka to sing again, and Varenka sang +another song, also smoothly, distinctly, and well, standing erect +at the piano and beating time on it with her thin, dark-skinned +hand. + +The next song in the book was an Italian one. Kitty played the +opening bars, and looked round at Varenka. + +"Let's skip that," said Varenka, flushing a little. Kitty let +her eyes rest on Varenka's face, with a look of dismay and +inquiry. + +"Very well, the next one," she said hurriedly, turning over the +pages, and at once feeling that there was something connected +with the song. + +"No," answered Varenka with a smile, laying her hand on the +music, "no, let's have that one." And she sang it just as +quietly, as coolly, and as well as the others. + +When she had finished, they all thanked her again, and went off +to tea. Kitty and Varenka went out into the little garden that +adjoined the house. + +"Am I right, that you have some reminiscences connected with +that song?" said Kitty. "Don't tell me," she added hastily, +"only say if I'm right." + +"No, why not? I'll tell you simply," said Varenka, and, without +waiting for a reply, she went on: "Yes, it brings up memories, +once painful ones. I cared for someone once, and I used to sing +him that song." + +Kitty with big, wide-open eyes gazed silently, sympathetically at +Varenka. + +"I cared for him, and he cared for me; but his mother did not +wish it, and he married another girl. He's living now not far +from us, and I see him sometimes. You didn't think I had a +love story too," she said, and there was a faint gleam in her +handsome face of that fire which Kitty felt must once have glowed +all over her. + +"I didn't think so? Why, if I were a man, I could never care for +anyone else after knowing you. Only I can't understand how he +could, to please his mother, forget you and make you unhappy; he +had no heart." + +"Oh, no, he's a very good man, and I'm not unhappy; quite the +contrary, I'm very happy. Well, so we shan't be singing any more +now," she added, turning towards the house. + +"How good you are! how good you are!" cried Kitty, and stopping +her, she kissed her. "If I could only be even a little like +you!" + +"Why should you be like anyone? You're nice as you are," said +Varenka, smiling her gentle, weary smile. + +"No, I'm not nice at all. Come, tell me.... Stop a minute, +let's sit down," said Kitty, making her sit down again beside +her. "Tell me, isn't it humiliating to think that a man has +disdained your love, that he hasn't cared for it?..." + +"But he didn't disdain it; I believe he cared for me, but he was +a dutiful son..." + +"Yes, but if it hadn't been on account of his mother, if it had +been his own doing?..." said Kitty, feeling she was giving away +her secret, and that her face, burning with the flush of shame, +had betrayed her already. + +"In that case he would have done wrong, and I should not have +regretted him," answered Varenka, evidently realizing that they +were now talking not of her, but of Kitty. + +"But the humiliation," said Kitty, "the humiliation one can never +forget, can never forget," she said, remembering her look at the +last ball during the pause in the music. + +"Where is the humiliation? Why, you did nothing wrong?" + +"Worse than wrong--shameful." + +Varenka shook her head and laid her hand on Kitty's hand. + +"Why, what is there shameful?" she said. "You didn't tell a man, +who didn't care for you, that you loved him, did you?" + +"Of course not; I never said a word, but he knew it. No, no, +there are looks, there are ways; I can't forget it, if I live a +hundred years." + +"Why so? I don't understand. The whole point is whether you +love him now or not," said Varenka, who called everything by its +name. + +"I hate him; I can't forgive myself." + +"Why, what for?" + +"The shame, the humiliation!" + +"Oh! if everyone were as sensitive as you are!" said Varenka. +"There isn't a girl who hasn't been through the same. And it's +all so unimportant." + +"Why, what is important?" said Kitty, looking into her face with +inquisitive wonder. + +"Oh, there's so much that's important," said Varenka, smiling. + +"Why, what?" + +"Oh, so much that's more important," answered Varenka, not +knowing what to say. But at that instant they heard the +princess's voice from the window. "Kitty, it's cold! Either get +a shawl, or come indoors." + +"It really is time to go in!" said Varenka, getting up. "I have +to go on to Madame Berthe's; she asked me to." + +Kitty held her by the hand, and with passionate curiosity and +entreaty her eyes asked her: "What is it, what is this of such +importance that gives you such tranquillity? You know, tell me!" +But Varenka did not even know what Kitty's eyes were asking her. +She merely thought that she had to go to see Madame Berthe too +that evening, and to make haste home in time for _maman's_ tea at +twelve o'clock. She went indoors, collected her music, and +saying good-bye to everyone, was about to go. + +"Allow me to see you home," said the colonel. + +"Yes, how can you go alone at night like this?" chimed in the +princess. "Anyway, I'll send Parasha." + +Kitty saw that Varenka could hardly restrain a smile at the idea +that she needed an escort. + +"No, I always go about alone and nothing ever happens to me," she +said, taking her hat. And kissing Kitty once more, without +saying what was important, she stepped out courageously with the +music under her arm and vanished into the twilight of the summer +night, bearing away with her her secret of what was important and +what gave her the calm and dignity so much to be envied. + + + +Chapter 33 + + +Kitty made the acquaintance of Madame Stahl too, and this +acquaintance, together with her friendship with Varenka, did not +merely exercise a great influence on her, it also comforted her +in her mental distress. She found this comfort through a +completely new world being opened to her by means of this +acquaintance, a world having nothing in common with her past, an +exalted, noble world, from the height of which she could +contemplate her past calmly. It was revealed to her that besides +the instinctive life to which Kitty had given herself up hitherto +there was a spiritual life. This life was disclosed in religion, +but a religion having nothing in common with that one which Kitty +had known from childhood, and which found expression in litanies +and all-night services at the Widow's Home, where one might meet +one's friends, and in learning by heart Slavonic texts with the +priest. This was a lofty, mysterious religion connected with a +whole series of noble thoughts and feelings, which one could do +more than merely believe because one was told to, which one could +love. + +Kitty found all this out not from words. Madame Stahl talked to +Kitty as to a charming child that one looks on with pleasure as +on the memory of one's youth, and only once she said in passing +that in all human sorrows nothing gives comfort but love and +faith, and that in the sight of Christ's compassion for us no +sorrow is trifling--and immediately talked of other things. But +in every gesture of Madame Stahl, in every word, in every +heavenly--as Kitty called it--look, and above all in the whole +story of her life, which she heard from Varenka, Kitty recognized +that something "that was important," of which, till then, she had +known nothing. + +Yet, elevated as Madame Stahl's character was, touching as was +her story, and exalted and moving as was her speech, Kitty could +not help detecting in her some traits which perplexed her. She +noticed that when questioning her about her family, Madame Stahl +had smiled contemptuously, which was not in accord with Christian +meekness. She noticed, too, that when she had found a Catholic +priest with her, Madame Stahl had studiously kept her face in the +shadow of the lamp-shade and had smiled in a peculiar way. +Trivial as these two observations were, they perplexed her, and +she had her doubts as to Madame Stahl. But on the other hand +Varenka, alone in the world, without friends or relations, with a +melancholy disappointment in the past, desiring nothing, +regretting nothing, was just that perfection of which Kitty dared +hardly dream. In Varenka she realized that one has but to forget +oneself and love others, and one will be calm, happy, and noble. +And that was what Kitty longed to be. Seeing now clearly what +was _the most important_, Kitty was not satisfied with being +enthusiastic over it; she at once gave herself up with her whole +soul to the new life that was opening to her. From Varenka's +accounts of the doings of Madame Stahl and other people whom she +mentioned, Kitty had already constructed the plan of her own +future life. She would, like Madame Stahl's niece, Aline, of +whom Varenka had talked to her a great deal, seek out those who +were in trouble, wherever she might be living, help them as far +as she could, give them the Gospel, read the Gospel to the sick, +to criminals, to the dying. The idea of reading the Gospel to +criminals, as Aline did, particularly fascinated Kitty. But all +these were secret dreams, of which Kitty did not talk either to +her mother or to Varenka. + +While awaiting the time for carrying out her plans on a large +scale, however, Kitty, even then at the springs, where there were +so many people ill and unhappy, readily found a chance for +practicing her new principles in imitation of Varenka. + +At first the princess noticed nothing but that Kitty was much +under the influence of her _engouement_, as she called it, for +Madame Stahl, and still more for Varenka. She saw that Kitty did +not merely imitate Varenka in her conduct, but unconsciously +imitated her in her manner of walking, of talking, of blinking +her eyes. But later on the princess noticed that, apart from +this adoration, some kind of serious spiritual change was taking +place in her daughter. + +The princess saw that in the evenings Kitty read a French +testament that Madame Stahl had given her--a thing she had never +done before; that she avoided society acquaintances and +associated with the sick people who were under Varenka's +protection, and especially one poor family, that of a sick +painter, Petrov. Kitty was unmistakably proud of playing the +part of a sister of mercy in that family. All this was well +enough, and the princess had nothing to say against it, +especially as Petrov's wife was a perfectly nice sort of woman, +and that the German princess, noticing Kitty's devotion, praised +her, calling her an angel of consolation. All this would have +been very well, if there had been no exaggeration. But the +princess saw that her daughter was rushing into extremes, and so +indeed she told her. + +"_Il ne faut jamais rien outrer_," she said to her. + +Her daughter made her no reply, only in her heart she thought +that one could not talk about exaggeration where Christianity was +concerned. What exaggeration could there be in the practice of a +doctrine wherein one was bidden to turn the other cheek when one +was smitten, and give one's cloak if one's coat were taken? But +the princess disliked this exaggeration, and disliked even more +the fact that she felt her daughter did not care to show her all +her heart. Kitty did in fact conceal her new views and feelings +from her mother. She concealed them not because she did not +respect or did not love her mother, but simply because she was +her mother. She would have revealed them to anyone sooner than +to her mother. + +"How is it Anna Pavlovna's not been to see us for so long?" the +princess said one day of Madame Petrova. "I've asked her, but +she seems put out about something." + +"No, I've not noticed it, maman," said Kitty, flushing hotly. + +"Is it long since you went to see them?" + +"We're meaning to make an expedition to the mountains tomorrow," +answered Kitty, + +"Well, you can go," answered the princess, gazing at her +daughter's embarrassed face and trying to guess the cause of her +embarrassment. + +That day Varenka came to dinner and told them that Anna Pavlovna +had changed her mind and given up the expedition for the morrow. +And the princess noticed again that Kitty reddened. + +"Kitty, haven't you had some misunderstanding with the Petrovs?" +said the princess, when they were left alone. "Why has she given +up sending the children and coming to see us?" + +Kitty answered that nothing had happened between them, and that +she could not tell why Anna Pavlovna seemed displeased with her. +Kitty answered perfectly truly. She did not know the reason Anna +Pavlovna had changed to her, but she guessed it. She guessed at +something which she could not tell her mother, which she did not +put into words to herself. It was one of those things which one +knows but which one can never speak of even to oneself, so +terrible and shameful would it be to be mistaken. + +Again and again she went over in her memory all her relations +with the family. She remembered the simple delight expressed on +the round, good-humored face of Anna Pavlovna at their meetings; +she remembered their secret confabulations about the invalid, +their plots to draw him away from the work which was forbidden +him, and to get him out-of-doors; the devotion of the youngest +boy, who used to call her "my Kitty," and would not go to bed +without her. How nice it all was! Then she recalled the thin, +terribly thin figure of Petrov, with his long neck, in his brown +coat, his scant, curly hair, his questioning blue eyes that were +so terrible to Kitty at first, and his painful attempts to seem +hearty and lively in her presence. She recalled the efforts she +had made at first to overcome the repugnance she felt for him, as +for all consumptive people, and the pains it had cost her to +think of things to say to him. She recalled the timid, softened +look with which he gazed at her, and the strange feeling of +compassion and awkwardness, and later of a sense of her own +goodness, which she had felt at it. How nice it all was! But +all that was at first. Now, a few days ago, everything was +suddenly spoiled. Anna Pavlovna had met Kitty with affected +cordiality, and had kept continual watch on her and on her +husband. + +Could that touching pleasure he showed when she came near be the +cause of Anna Pavlovna's coolness? + +"Yes," she mused, "there was something unnatural about Anna +Pavlovna, and utterly unlike her good nature, when she said +angrily the day before yesterday: 'There, he will keep waiting +for you; he wouldn't drink his coffee without you, though he's +grown so dreadfully weak.'" + +"Yes, perhaps, too, she didn't like it when I gave him the rug. +It was all so simple, but he took it so awkwardly, and was so +long thanking me, that I felt awkward too. And then that +portrait of me he did so well. And most of all that look of +confusion and tenderness! Yes, yes, that's it!" Kitty repeated +to herself with horror. "No, it can't be, it oughtn't to be! +He's so much to be pitied!" she said to herself directly after. + +This doubt poisoned the charm of her new life. + + + +Chapter 34 + + +Before the end of the course of drinking the waters, Prince +Shtcherbatsky, who had gone on from Carlsbad to Baden and +Kissingen to Russian friends--to get a breath of Russian air, as +he said--came back to his wife and daughter. + +The views of the prince and of the princess on life abroad were +completely opposed. The princess thought everything delightful, +and in spite of her established position in Russian society, she +tried abroad to be like a European fashionable lady, which she +was not--for the simple reason that she was a typical Russian +gentlewoman; and so she was affected, which did not altogether +suit her. The prince, on the contrary, thought everything +foreign detestable, got sick of European life, kept to his +Russian habits, and purposely tried to show himself abroad less +European than he was in reality. + +The prince returned thinner, with the skin hanging in loose bags +on his cheeks, but in the most cheerful frame of mind. His +good humor was even greater when he saw Kitty completely +recovered. The news of Kitty's friendship with Madame Stahl and +Varenka, and the reports the princess gave him of some kind of +change she had noticed in Kitty, troubled the prince and aroused +his habitual feeling of jealousy of everything that drew his +daughter away from him, and a dread that his daughter might have +got out of the reach of his influence into regions inaccessible +to him. But these unpleasant matters were all drowned in the sea +of kindliness and good humor which was always within him, and +more so than ever since his course of Carlsbad waters. + +The day after his arrival the prince, in his long overcoat, with +his Russian wrinkles and baggy cheeks propped up by a starched +collar, set off with his daughter to the spring in the greatest +good humor. + +It was a lovely morning: the bright, cheerful houses with their +little gardens, the sight of the red-faced, red-armed, +beer-drinking German waitresses, working away merrily, did the +heart good. But the nearer they got to the springs the oftener +they met sick people; and their appearance seemed more pitiable +than ever among the everyday conditions of prosperous German +life. Kitty was no longer struck by this contrast. The bright +sun, the brilliant green of the foliage, the strains of the music +were for her the natural setting of all these familiar faces, +with their changes to greater emaciation or to convalescence, for +which she watched. But to the prince the brightness and gaiety +of the June morning, and the sound of the orchestra playing a gay +waltz then in fashion, and above all, the appearance of the +healthy attendants, seemed something unseemly and monstrous, in +conjunction with these slowly moving, dying figures gathered +together from all parts of Europe. In spite of his feeling of +pride and, as it were, of the return of youth, with his favorite +daughter on his arm, he felt awkward, and almost ashamed of his +vigorous step and his sturdy, stout limbs. He felt almost like a +man not dressed in a crowd. + +"Present me to your new friends," he said to his daughter, +squeezing her hand with his elbow. "I like even your horrid +Soden for making you so well again. Only it's melancholy, very +melancholy here. Who's that?" + +Kitty mentioned the names of all the people they met, with some +of whom she was acquainted and some not. At the entrance of the +garden they met the blind lady, Madame Berthe, with her guide, +and the prince was delighted to see the old Frenchwoman's face +light up when she heard Kitty's voice. She at once began talking +to him with French exaggerated politeness, applauding him for +having such a delightful daughter, extolling Kitty to the skies +before her face, and calling her a treasure, a pearl, and a +consoling angel. + +"Well, she's the second angel, then," said the prince, smiling. +"she calls Mademoiselle Varenka angel number one." + +"Oh! Mademoiselle Varenka, she's a real angel, allez," Madame +Berthe assented. + +In the arcade they met Varenka herself. She was walking rapidly +towards them carrying an elegant red bag. + +"Here is papa come," Kitty said to her. + +Varenka made--simply and naturally as she did everything--a +movement between a bow and a curtsey, and immediately began +talking to the prince, without shyness, naturally, as she +talked to everyone. + +"Of course I know you; I know you very well," the prince said +to her with a smile, in which Kitty detected with joy that her +father liked her friend. "Where are you off to in such haste?" + +"Maman's here," she said, turning to Kitty. "She has not slept +all night, and the doctor advised her to go out. I'm taking her +her work." + +"So that's angel number one?" said the prince when Varenka had +gone on. + +Kitty saw that her father had meant to make fun of Varenka, but +that he could not do it because he liked her. + +"Come, so we shall see all your friends," he went on, "even +Madame Stahl, if she deigns to recognize me." + +"Why, did you know her, papa?" Kitty asked apprehensively, +catching the gleam of irony that kindled in the prince's eyes at +the mention of Madame Stahl. + +"I used to know her husband, and her too a little, before she'd +joined the Pietists." + +"What is a Pietist, papa?" asked Kitty, dismayed to find that +what she prized so highly in Madame Stahl had a name. + +"I don't quite know myself. I only know that she thanks God +for everything, for every misfortune, and thanks God too that her +husband died. And that's rather droll, as they didn't get on +together." + +"Who's that? What a piteous face!" he asked, noticing a sick man +of medium height sitting on a bench, wearing a brown overcoat and +white trousers that fell in strange folds about his long, +fleshless legs. This man lifted his straw hat, showed his scanty +curly hair and high forehead, painfully reddened by the pressure +of the hat. + +"That's Petrov, an artist," answered Kitty, blushing. "And +that's his wife," she added, indicating Anna Pavlovna, who, as +though on purpose, at the very instant they approached walked +away after a child that had run off along a path. + +"Poor fellow! and what a nice face he has!" said the prince. +"Why don't you go up to him? He wanted to speak to you." + +"Well, let us go, then," said Kitty, turning round resolutely. +"How are you feeling today?" she asked Petrov. + +Petrov got up, leaning on his stick, and looked shyly at the +prince. + +"This is my daughter," said the prince. "Let me introduce +myself." + +The painter bowed and smiled, showing his strangely dazzling +white teeth. + +"We expected you yesterday, princess," he said to Kitty. He +staggered as he said this, and then repeated the motion, trying +to make it seem as if it had been intentional. + +"I meant to come, but Varenka said that Anna Pavlovna sent word +you were not going." + +"Not going!" said Petrov, blushing, and immediately beginning to +cough, and his eyes sought his wife. "Anita! Anita!" he said +loudly, and the swollen veins stood out like cords on his thin +white neck. + +Anna Pavlovna came up. + +"So you sent word to the princess that we weren't going!" he +whispered to her angrily, losing his voice. + +"Good morning, princess," said Anna Pavlovna, with an assumed +smile utterly unlike her former manner. "Very glad to make your +acquaintance," she said to the prince. "You've long been +expected, prince." + +"What did you send word to the princess that we weren't going +for?" the artist whispered hoarsely once more, still more +angrily, obviously exasperated that his voice failed him so that +he could not give his words the expression he would have liked +to. + +"Oh, mercy on us! I thought we weren't going," his wife answered +crossly. + +"What, when...." He coughed and waved his hand. The prince took +off his hat and moved away with his daughter. + +"Ah! ah!" he sighed deeply. "Oh, poor things!" + +"Yes, papa," answered Kitty. "And you must know they've three +children, no servant, and scarcely any means. He gets something +from the Academy," she went on briskly, trying to drown the +distress that the queer change in Anna Pavlovna's manner to her +had aroused in her. + +"Oh, here's Madame Stahl," said Kitty, indicating an invalid +carriage, where, propped on pillows, something in gray and blue +was lying under a sunshade. This was Madame Stahl. Behind her +stood the gloomy, healthy-looking German workman who pushed the +carriage. Close by was standing a flaxen-headed Swedish count, +whom Kitty knew by name. Several invalids were lingering near +the low carriage, staring at the lady as though she were some +curiosity. + +The prince went up to her, and Kitty detected that disconcerting +gleam of irony in his eyes. He went up to Madame Stahl, and +addressed her with extreme courtesy and affability in that +excellent French that so few speak nowadays. + +"I don't know if you remember me, but I must recall myself to +thank you for your kindness to my daughter," he said, taking off +his hat and not putting it on again. + +"Prince Alexander Shtcherbatsky," said Madame Stahl, lifting upon +him her heavenly eyes, in which Kitty discerned a look of +annoyance. "Delighted! I have taken a great fancy to your +daughter." + +"You are still in weak health?" + +"Yes; I'm used to it," said Madame Stahl, and she introduced the +prince to the Swedish count. + +"You are scarcely changed at all," the prince said to her. "It's +ten or eleven years since I had the honor of seeing you." + +"Yes; God sends the cross and sends the strength to bear it. +Often one wonders what is the goal of this life?... The other +side!" she said angrily to Varenka, who had rearranged the rug +over her feet not to her satisfaction. + +"To do good, probably," said the prince with a twinkle in his +eye. + +"That is not for us to judge," said Madame Stahl, perceiving the +shade of expression on the prince's face. "So you will send me +that book, dear count? I'm very grateful to you," she said to +the young Swede. + +"Ah!" cried the prince, catching sight of the Moscow colonel +standing near, and with a bow to Madame Stahl he walked away with +his daughter and the Moscow colonel, who joined them. + +"That's our aristocracy, prince!" the Moscow colonel said with +ironical intention. He cherished a grudge against Madame Stahl +for not making his acquaintance. + +"She's just the same," replied the prince. + +"Did you know her before her illness, prince--that's to say +before she took to her bed?" + +"Yes. She took to her bed before my eyes," said the prince. + +"They say it's ten years since she has stood on her feet." + +"She doesn't stand up because her legs are too short. She's a +very bad figure." + +"Papa, it's not possible!" cried Kitty. + +"That's what wicked tongues say, my darling. And your Varenka +catches it too," he added. "Oh, these invalid ladies!" + +"Oh, no, papa!" Kitty objected warmly. "Varenka worships her. +And then she does so much good! Ask anyone! Everyone knows her +and Aline Stahl." + +"Perhaps so," said the prince, squeezing her hand with his elbow; +"but it's better when one does good so that you may ask everyone +and no one knows." + +Kitty did not answer, not because she had nothing to say, but +because she did not care to reveal her secret thoughts even to +her father. But, strange to say, although she had so made up her +mind not to be influenced by her father's views, not to let him +into her inmost sanctuary, she felt that the heavenly image of +Madame Stahl, which she had carried for a whole month in her +heart, had vanished, never to return, just as the fantastic +figure made up of some clothes thrown down at random vanishes +when one sees that it is only some garment lying there. All that +was left was a woman with short legs, who lay down because she +had a bad figure, and worried patient Varenka for not arranging +her rug to her liking. And by no effort of the imagination could +Kitty bring back the former Madame Stahl. + + + +Chapter 35 + + +The prince communicated his good humor to his own family and his +friends, and even to the German landlord in whose rooms the +Shtcherbatskys were staying. + +On coming back with Kitty from the springs, the prince, who had +asked the colonel, and Marya Yevgenyevna, and Varenka all to come +and have coffee with them, gave orders for a table and chairs to +be taken into the garden under the chestnut tree, and lunch to be +laid there. The landlord and the servants, too, grew brisker +under the influence of his good spirits. They knew his +open-handedness; and half an hour later the invalid doctor from +Hamburg, who lived on the top floor, looked enviously out of the +window at the merry party of healthy Russians assembled under the +chestnut tree. In the trembling circles of shadow cast by the +leaves, at a table, covered with a white cloth, and set with +coffeepot, bread-and-butter, cheese, and cold game, sat the +princess in a high cap with lilac ribbons, distributing cups and +bread-and-butter. At the other end sat the prince, eating +heartily, and talking loudly and merrily. The prince had spread +out near him his purchases, carved boxes, and knick-knacks, +paper-knives of all sorts, of which he bought a heap at every +watering-place, and bestowed them upon everyone, including +Lieschen, the servant girl, and the landlord, with whom he jested +in his comically bad German, assuring him that it was not the +water had cured Kitty, but his splendid cookery, especially his +plum soup. The princess laughed at her husband for his Russian +ways, but she was more lively and good-humored than she had been +all the while she had been at the waters. The colonel smiled, as +he always did, at the prince's jokes, but as far as regards +Europe, of which he believed himself to be making a careful +study, he took the princess's side. The simple-hearted Marya +Yevgenyevna simply roared with laughter at everything absurd the +prince said, and his jokes made Varenka helpless with feeble but +infectious laughter, which was something Kitty had never seen +before. + +Kitty was glad of all this, but she could not be light-hearted. +She could not solve the problem her father had unconsciously set +her by his goodhumored view of her friends, and of the life that +had so attracted her. To this doubt there was joined the change +in her relations with the Petrovs, which had been so +conspicuously and unpleasantly marked that morning. Everyone was +good humored, but Kitty could not feel good humored, and this +increased her distress. She felt a feeling such as she had known +in childhood, when she had been shut in her room as a punishment, +and had heard her sisters' merry laughter outside. + +"Well, but what did you buy this mass of things for?" said the +princess, smiling, and handing her husband a cup of coffee. + +"One goes for a walk, one looks in a shop, and they ask you to buy. +'_Erlaucht, Durchlaucht?_' Directly they say '_Durchlaucht_,' I +can't hold out. I lose ten thalers." + +"It's simply from boredom," said the princess. + +"Of course it is. Such boredom, my dear, that one doesn't know +what to do with oneself." + +"How can you be bored, prince? There's so much that's interesting +now in Germany," said Marya Yevgenyevna. + +"But I know everything that's interesting: the plum soup I know, +and the pea sausages I know. I know everything." + +"No, you may say what you like, prince, there's the interest of +their institutions," said the colonel. + +"But what is there interesting about it? They're all as pleased +as brass halfpence. They've conquered everybody, and why am I +to be pleased at that? I haven't conquered anyone; and I'm +obliged to take off my own boots, yes, and put them away too; in +the morning, get up and dress at once, and go to the dining room +to drink bad tea! How different it is at home! You get up in no +haste, you get cross, grumble a little, and come round again. +You've time to think things over, and no hurry." + +"But time's money, you forget that," said the colonel. + +"Time, indeed, that depends! Why, there's time one would give a +month of for sixpence, and time you wouldn't give half an hour of +for any money. Isn't that so, Katinka? What is it? why are you +so depressed?" + +"I'm not depressed." + +"Where are you off to? Stay a little longer," he said to +Varenka. + +"I must be going home," said Varenka, getting up, and again she +went off into a giggle. When she had recovered, she said +good-bye, and went into the house to get her hat. + +Kitty followed her. Even Varenka struck her as different. She +was not worse, but different from what she had fancied her +before. + +"Oh, dear! it's a long while since I've laughed so much!" said +Varenka, gathering up her parasol and her bag. "How nice he is, +your father!" + +Kitty did not speak. + +"When shall I see you again?" asked Varenka. + +"Mamma meant to go and see the Petrovs. Won't you be there?" +said Kitty, to try Varenka. + +"Yes," answered Varenka. "They're getting ready to go away, so +I promised to help them pack." + +"Well, I'll come too, then." + +"No, why should you?" + +"Why not? why not? why not?" said Kitty, opening her eyes wide, +and clutching at Varenka's parasol, so as not to let her go. +"No, wait a minute; why not?" + +"Oh, nothing; your father has come, and besides, they will feel +awkward at your helping." + +"No, tell me why you don't want me to be often at the Petrovs'. +You don't want me to--why not?" + +"I didn't say that," said Varenka quietly. + +"No, please tell me!" + +"Tell you everything?" asked Varenka. + +"Everything, everything!" Kitty assented. + +"Well, there's really nothing of any consequence; only that +Mihail Alexeyevitch" (that was the artist's name) "had meant to +leave earlier, and now he doesn't want to go away," said Varenka, +smiling. + +"Well, well!" Kitty urged impatiently, looking darkly at Varenka. + +"Well, and for some reason Anna Pavlovna told him that he didn't +want to go because you are here. Of course, that was nonsense; +but there was a dispute over it--over you. You know how +irritable these sick people are." + +Kitty, scowling more than ever, kept silent, and Varenka went on +speaking alone, trying to soften or soothe her, and seeing a +storm coming--she did not know whether of tears or of words. + +"So you'd better not go.... You understand; you won't be +offended?..." + +"And it serves me right! And it serves me right!" Kitty cried +quickly, snatching the parasol out of Varenka's hand, and looking +past her friend's face. + +Varenka felt inclined to smile, looking at her childish fury, but +she was afraid of wounding her. + +"How does it serve you right? I don't understand," she said. + +"It serves me right, because it was all sham; because it was all +done on purpose, and not from the heart. What business had I to +interfere with outsiders? And so it's come about that I'm a +cause of quarrel, and that I've done what nobody asked me to do. +Because it was all a sham! a sham! a sham!..." + +"A sham! with what object?" said Varenka gently. + +"Oh, it's so idiotic! so hateful! There was no need whatever for +me.... Nothing but sham!" she said, opening and shutting the +parasol. + +"But with what object?" + +"To seem better to people, to myself, to God; to deceive +everyone. No! now I won't descend to that. I'll be bad; but +anyway not a liar, a cheat." + +"But who is a cheat?" said Varenka reproachfully. "You speak as +if..." + +But Kitty was in one of her gusts of fury, and she would not let +her finish. + +"I don't talk about you, not about you at all. You're +perfection. Yes, yes, I know you're all perfection; but what am +I to do if I'm bad? This would never have been if I weren't bad. +So let me be what I am. I won't be a sham. What have I to do +with Anna Pavlovna? Let them go their way, and me go mine. I +can't be different.... And yet it's not that, it's not that." + +"What is not that?" asked Varenka in bewilderment. + +"Everything. I can't act except from the heart, and you act +from principle. I liked you simply, but you most likely only +wanted to save me, to improve me." + +"You are unjust," said Varenka. + +"But I'm not speaking of other people, I'm speaking of myself." + +"Kitty," they heard her mother's voice, "come here, show papa +your necklace." + +Kitty, with a haughty air, without making peace with her friend, +took the necklace in a little box from the table and went to her +mother. + +"What's the matter? Why are you so red?" her mother and father +said to her with one voice. + +"Nothing," she answered. "I'll be back directly," and she ran +back. + +"She's still here," she thought. "What am I to say to her? Oh, +dear! what have I done, what have I said? Why was I rude to +her? What am I to do? What am I to say to her?" thought Kitty, +and she stopped in the doorway. + +Varenka in her hat and with the parasol in her hands was sitting +at the table examining the spring which Kitty had broken. She +lifted her head. + +"Varenka, forgive me, do forgive me," whispered Kitty, going up +to her. "I don't remember what I said. I..." + +"I really didn't mean to hurt you," said Varenka, smiling. + +Peace was made. But with her father's coming all the world in +which she had been living was transformed for Kitty. She did not +give up everything she had learned, but she became aware that she +had deceived herself in supposing she could be what she wanted to +be. Her eyes were, it seemed, opened; she felt all the +difficulty of maintaining herself without hypocrisy and +self-conceit on the pinnacle to which she had wished to mount. +Moreover, she became aware of all the dreariness of the world of +sorrow, of sick and dying people, in which she had been living. +The efforts she had made to like it seemed to her intolerable, +and she felt a longing to get back quickly into the fresh air, to +Russia, to Ergushovo, where, as she knew from letters, her sister +Dolly had already gone with her children. + +But her affection for Varenka did not wane. As she said +good-bye, Kitty begged her to come to them in Russia. + +"I'll come when you get married," said Varenka. + +"I shall never marry." + +"Well, then, I shall never come." + +"Well, then, I shall be married simply for that. Mind now, +remember your promise," said Kitty. + +The doctor's prediction was fulfilled. Kitty returned home to +Russia cured. She was not so gay and thoughtless as before, but +she was serene. Her Moscow troubles had become a memory to her. + + + + + +PART THREE + + + +Chapter 1 + + +Sergey Ivanovitch Koznishev wanted a rest from mental work, and +instead of going abroad as he usually did, he came towards the +end of May to stay in the country with his brother. In his +judgment the best sort of life was a country life. He had come +now to enjoy such a life at his brother's. Konstantin Levin was +very glad to have him, especially as he did not expect his +brother Nikolay that summer. But in spite of his affection and +respect for Sergey Ivanovitch, Konstantin Levin was uncomfortable +with his brother in the country. It made him uncomfortable, and +it positively annoyed him to see his brother's attitude to the +country. To Konstantin Levin the country was the background of +life, that is of pleasures, endeavors, labor. To Sergey +Ivanovitch the country meant on one hand rest from work, on the +other a valuable antidote to the corrupt influences of town, +which he took with satisfaction and a sense of its utility. To +Konstantin Levin the country was good first because it afforded a +field for labor, of the usefulness of which there could be no +doubt. To Sergey Ivanovitch the country was particularly good, +because there it was possible and fitting to do nothing. +Moreover, Sergey Ivanovitch's attitude to the peasants rather +piqued Konstantin. Sergey Ivanovitch used to say that he knew +and liked the peasantry, and he often talked to the peasants, +which he knew how to do without affectation or condescension, and +from every such conversation he would deduce general conclusions +in favor of the peasantry and in confirmation of his knowing +them. Konstantin Levin did not like such an attitude to the +peasants. To Konstantin the peasant was simply the chief partner +in their common labor, and in spite of all the respect and the +love, almost like that of kinship, he had for the peasant-- +sucked in probably, as he said himself, with the milk of his +peasant nurse--still as a fellow-worker with him, while +sometimes enthusiastic over the vigor, gentleness, and justice of +these men, he was very often, when their common labors called for +other qualities, exasperated with the peasant for his +carelessness, lack of method, drunkenness, and lying. If he had +been asked whether he liked or didn't like the peasants, +Konstantin Levin would have been absolutely at a loss what to +reply. He liked and did not like the peasants, just as he liked +and did not like men in general. Of course, being a good-hearted +man, he liked men rather than he disliked them, and so too with +the peasants. But like or dislike "the people" as something +apart he could not, not only because he lived with "the people," +and all his interests were bound up with theirs, but also because +he regarded himself as a part of "the people," did not see any +special qualities or failings distinguishing himself and "the +people," and could not contrast himself with them. Moreover, +although he had lived so long in the closest relations with the +peasants, as farmer and arbitrator, and what was more, as adviser +(the peasants trusted him, and for thirty miles round they would +come to ask his advice), he had no definite views of "the +people," and would have been as much at a loss to answer the +question whether he knew "the people" as the question whether he +liked them. For him to say he knew the peasantry would have been +the same as to say he knew men. He was continually watching and +getting to know people of all sorts, and among them peasants, +whom he regarded as good and interesting people, and he was +continually observing new points in them, altering his former +views of them and forming new ones. With Sergey Ivanovitch it +was quite the contrary. Just as he liked and praised a country +life in comparison with the life he did not like, so too he liked +the peasantry in contradistinction to the class of men he did not +like, and so too he knew the peasantry as something distinct from +and opposed to men generally. In his methodical brain there were +distinctly formulated certain aspects of peasant life, deduced +partly from that life itself, but chiefly from contrast with +other modes of life. He never changed his opinion of the +peasantry and his sympathetic attitude towards them. + +In the discussions that arose between the brothers on their views +of the peasantry, Sergey Ivanovitch always got the better of his +brother, precisely because Sergey Ivanovitch had definite ideas +about the peasant--his character, his qualities, and his tastes. +Konstantin Levin had no definite and unalterable idea on the +subject, and so in their arguments Konstantin was readily +convicted of contradicting himself. + +In Sergey Ivanovitch's eyes his younger brother was a capital +fellow, _with his heart in the right place_ (as he expressed it in +French), but with a mind which, though fairly quick, was too much +influenced by the impressions of the moment, and consequently +filled with contradictions. With all the condescension of an +elder brother he sometimes explained to him the true import of +things, but he derived little satisfaction from arguing with him +because he got the better of him too easily. + +Konstantin Levin regarded his brother as a man of immense +intellect and culture, as generous in the highest sense of the +word, and possessed of a special faculty for working for the +public good. But in the depths of his heart, the older he +became, and the more intimately he knew his brother, the more and +more frequently the thought struck him that this faculty of +working for the public good, of which he felt himself utterly +devoid, was possibly not so much a quality as a lack of something +--not a lack of good, honest, noble desires and tastes, but a +lack of vital force, of what is called heart, of that impulse +which drives a man to choose someone out of the innumerable +paths of life, and to care only for that one. The better he knew +his brother, the more he noticed that Sergey Ivanovitch, and many +other people who worked for the public welfare, were not led by +an impulse of the heart to care for the public good, but reasoned +from intellectual considerations that it was a right thing to +take interest in public affairs, and consequently took interest +in them. Levin was confirmed in this generalization by observing +that his brother did not take questions affecting the public +welfare or the question of the immortality of the soul a bit more +to heart than he did chess problems, or the ingenious +construction of a new machine. + +Besides this, Konstantin Levin was not at his ease with his +brother, because in summer in the country Levin was continually +busy with work on the land, and the long summer day was not long +enough for him to get through all he had to do, while Sergey +Ivanovitch was taking a holiday. But though he was taking a +holiday now, that is to say, he was doing no writing, he was so +used to intellectual activity that he liked to put into concise +and eloquent shape the ideas that occurred to him, and liked to +have someone to listen to him. His most usual and natural +listener was his brother. And so in spite of the friendliness +and directness of their relations, Konstantin felt an awkwardness +in leaving him alone. Sergey Ivanovitch liked to stretch himself +on the grass in the sun, and to lie so, basking and chatting +lazily. + +"You wouldn't believe," he would say to his brother, "what a +pleasure this rural laziness is to me. Not an idea in one's +brain, as empty as a drum!" + +But Konstantin Levin found it dull sitting and listening to him, +especially when he knew that while he was away they would be +carting dung onto the fields not ploughed ready for it, and +heaping it all up anyhow; and would not screw the shares in the +ploughs, but would let them come off and then say that the new +ploughs were a silly invention, and there was nothing like the +old Andreevna plough, and so on. + +"Come, you've done enough trudging about in the heat," Sergey +Ivanovitch would say to him. + +"No, I must just run round to the counting-house for a minute," +Levin would answer, and he would run off to the fields. + + + +Chapter 2 + + +Early in June it happened that Agafea Mihalovna, the old nurse +and housekeeper, in carrying to the cellar a jar of mushrooms she +had just pickled, slipped, fell, and sprained her wrist. The +district doctor, a talkative young medical student, who had just +finished his studies, came to see her. He examined the wrist, +said it was not broken, was delighted at a chance of talking to +the celebrated Sergey Ivanovitch Koznishev, and to show his +advanced views of things told him all the scandal of the +district, complaining of the poor state into which the district +council had fallen. Sergey Ivanovitch listened attentively, +asked him questions, and, roused by a new listener, he talked +fluently, uttered a few keen and weighty observations, +respectfully appreciated by the young doctor, and was soon in +that eager frame of mind his brother knew so well, which always, +with him, followed a brilliant and eager conversation. After the +departure of the doctor, he wanted to go with a fishing rod to +the river. Sergey Ivanovitch was fond of angling, and was, it +seemed, proud of being able to care for such a stupid occupation. + +Konstantin Levin, whose presence was needed in the plough land +and meadows, had come to take his brother in the trap. + +It was that time of the year, the turning-point of summer, when +the crops of the present year are a certainty, when one begins to +think of the sowing for next year, and the mowing is at hand; +when the rye is all in ear, though its ears are still light, not +yet full, and it waves in gray-green billows in the wind; when +the green oats, with tufts of yellow grass scattered here and +there among it, droop irregularly over the late-sown fields; when +the early buckwheat is already out and hiding the ground; when +the fallow lands, trodden hard as stone by the cattle, are +half ploughed over, with paths left untouched by the plough; when +from the dry dung-heaps carted onto the fields there comes at +sunset a smell of manure mixed with meadow-sweet, and on the +low-lying lands the riverside meadows are a thick sea of grass +waiting for the mowing, with blackened heaps of the stalks of +sorrel among it. + +It was the time when there comes a brief pause in the toil of the +fields before the beginning of the labors of harvest--every year +recurring, every year straining every nerve of the peasants. The +crop was a splendid one, and bright, hot summer days had set in +with short, dewy nights. + +The brothers had to drive through the woods to reach the meadows. +Sergey Ivanovitch was all the while admiring the beauty of the +woods, which were a tangled mass of leaves, pointing out to his +brother now an old lime tree on the point of flowering, dark on +the shady side, and brightly spotted with yellow stipules, now +the young shoots of this year's saplings brilliant with emerald. +Konstantin Levin did not like talking and hearing about the +beauty of nature. Words for him took away the beauty of what he +saw. He assented to what his brother said, but he could not help +beginning to think of other things. When they came out of the +woods, all his attention was engrossed by the view of the +fallow land on the upland, in parts yellow with grass, in parts +trampled and checkered with furrows, in parts dotted with ridges +of dung, and in parts even ploughed. A string of carts was +moving across it. Levin counted the carts, and was pleased that +all that were wanted had been brought, and at the sight of the +meadows his thoughts passed to the mowing. He always felt +something special moving him to the quick at the hay-making. On +reaching the meadow Levin stopped the horse. + +The morning dew was still lying on the thick undergrowth of the +grass, and that he might not get his feet wet, Sergey Ivanovitch +asked his brother to drive him in the trap up to the willow tree +from which the carp was caught. Sorry as Konstantin Levin was to +crush down his mowing grass, he drove him into the meadow. The +high grass softly turned about the wheels and the horse's legs, +leaving its seeds clinging to the wet axles and spokes of the +wheels. His brother seated himself under a bush, arranging his +tackle, while Levin led the horse away, fastened him up, and +walked into the vast gray-green sea of grass unstirred by the +wind. The silky grass with its ripe seeds came almost to his +waist in the dampest spots. + +Crossing the meadow, Konstantin Levin came out onto the road, and +met an old man with a swollen eye, carrying a skep on his +shoulder. + +"What? taken a stray swarm, Fomitch?" he asked. + +"No, indeed, Konstantin Dmitrich! All we can do to keep our own! +This is the second swarm that has flown away.... Luckily the +lads caught them. They were ploughing your field. They unyoked +the horses and galloped after them." + +"Well, what do you say, Fomitch--start mowing or wait a bit?" + +"Eh, well. Our way's to wait till St. Peter's Day. But you +always mow sooner. Well, to be sure, please God, the hay's good. +There'll be plenty for the beasts." + +"What do you think about the weather?" + +"That's in God's hands. Maybe it will be fine." + +Levin went up to his brother. + +Sergey Ivanovitch had caught nothing, but he was not bored, and +seemed in the most cheerful frame of mind. Levin saw that, +stimulated by his conversation with the doctor, he wanted to +talk. Levin, on the other hand, would have liked to get home as +soon as possible to give orders about getting together the mowers +for next day, and to set at rest his doubts about the mowing, +which greatly absorbed him. + +"Well, let's be going," he said. + +"Why be in such a hurry? Let's stay a little. But how wet you +are! Even though one catches nothing, it's nice. That's the +best thing about every part of sport, that one has to do with +nature. How exquisite this steely water is!" said Sergey +Ivanovitch. "These riverside banks always remind me of the +riddle--do you know it? 'The grass says to the water: we +quiver and we quiver.'" + +"I don't know the riddle," answered Levin wearily. + + + + +Chapter 3 + + +"Do you know, I've been thinking about you," said Sergey +Ivanovitch. "It's beyond everything what's being done in the +district, according to what this doctor tells me. He's a very +intelligent fellow. And as I've told you before, I tell you +again: it's not right for you not to go to the meetings, and +altogether to keep out of the district business. If decent +people won't go into it, of course it's bound to go all wrong. +We pay the money, and it all goes in salaries, and there are no +schools, nor district nurses, nor midwives, nor drugstores-- +nothing." + +"Well, I did try, you know," Levin said slowly and unwillingly. +"I can't! and so there's no help for it." + +"But why can't you? I must own I can't make it out. +Indifference, incapacity--I won't admit; surely it's not simply +laziness?" + +"None of those things. I've tried, and I see I can do nothing," +said Levin. + +He had hardly grasped what his brother was saying. Looking +towards the plough land across the river, he made out something +black, but he could not distinguish whether it was a horse or the +bailiff on horseback. + +"Why is it you can do nothing? You made an attempt and didn't +succeed, as you think, and you give in. How can you have so +little self-respect?" + +"Self-respect!" said Levin, stung to the quick by his brother's +words; "I don't understand. If they'd told me at college that +other people understood the integral calculus, and I didn't, +then pride would have come in. But in this case one wants first +to be convinced that one has certain qualifications for this sort +of business, and especially that all this business is of great +importance." + +"What! do you mean to say it's not of importance?" said Sergey +Ivanovitch, stung to the quick too at his brother's considering +anything of no importance that interested him, and still more at +his obviously paying little attention to what he was saying. + +"I don't think it important; it does not take hold of me, I +can't help it," answered Levin, making out that what he saw was +the bailiff, and that the bailiff seemed to be letting the +peasants go off the ploughed land. They were turning the plough +over. "Can they have finished ploughing?" he wondered. + +"Come, really though," said the elder brother, with a frown on +his handsome, clever face, "there's a limit to everything. It's +very well to be original and genuine, and to dislike everything +conventional--I know all about that; but really, what you're +saying either has no meaning, or it has a very wrong meaning. +How can you think it a matter of no importance whether the +peasant, whom you love as you assert..." + +"I never did assert it," thought Konstantin Levin. + +"...dies without help? The ignorant peasant-women starve the +children, and the people stagnate in darkness, and are helpless +in the hands of every village clerk, while you have at your +disposal a means of helping them, and don't help them because to +your mind it's of no importance." + +And Sergey Ivanovitch put before him the alternative: either you +are so undeveloped that you can't see all that you can do, or you +won't sacrifice your ease, your vanity, or whatever it is, to do +it. + +Konstantin Levin felt that there was no course open to him but to +submit, or to confess to a lack of zeal for the public good. And +this mortified him and hurt his feelings. + +"It's both," he said resolutely: "I don't see that it was +possible..." + +"What! was it impossible, if the money were properly laid out, to +provide medical aid?" + +"Impossible, as it seems to me.... For the three thousand square +miles of our district, what with our thaws, and the storms, and +the work in the fields, I don't see how it is possible to +provide medical aid all over. And besides, I don't believe in +medicine." + +"Oh, well, that's unfair...I can quote to you thousands of +instances.... But the schools, anyway." + +"Why have schools?" + +"What do you mean? Can there be two opinions of the advantage of +education? If it's a good thing for you, it's a good thing for +everyone." + +Konstantin Levin felt himself morally pinned against a wall, and +so he got hot, and unconsciously blurted out the chief cause of +his indifference to public business. + +"Perhaps it may all be very good; but why should I worry myself +about establishing dispensaries which I shall never make use of, +and schools to which I shall never send my children, to which +even the peasants don't want to send their children, and to which +I've no very firm faith that they ought to send them?" said he. + +Sergey Ivanovitch was for a minute surprised at this unexpected +view of the subject; but he promptly made a new plan of attack. +He was silent for a little, drew out a hook, threw it in again, +and turned to his brother smiling. + +"Come, now.... In the first place, the dispensary is needed. We +ourselves sent for the district doctor for Agafea Mihalovna." + +"Oh, well, but I fancy her wrist will never be straight again." + +"That remains to be proved.... Next, the peasant who can read +and write is as a workman of more use and value to you." + +"No, you can ask anyone you like," Konstantin Levin answered +with decision, "the man that can read and write is much inferior +as a workman. And mending the highroads is an impossibility; and +as soon as they put up bridges they're stolen." + +"Still, that's not the point," said Sergey Ivanovitch, frowning. +He disliked contradiction, and still more, arguments that were +continually skipping from one thing to another, introducing new +and disconnected points, so that there was no knowing to which to +reply. "Do you admit that education is a benefit for the +people?" + +"Yes, I admit it," said Levin without thinking, and he was +conscious immediately that he had said what he did not think. He +felt that if he admitted that, it would be proved that he had +been talking meaningless rubbish. How it would be proved he +could not tell, but he knew that this would inevitably be +logically proved to him, and he awaited the proofs. + +The argument turned out to be far simpler than he had expected. + +"If you admit that it is a benefit," said Sergey Ivanovitch, +"then, as an honest man, you cannot help caring about it and +sympathizing with the movement, and so wishing to work for it." + +"But I still do not admit this movement to be just," said +Konstantin Levin, reddening a little. + +"What! But you said just now..." + +"That's to say, I don't admit it's being either good or +possible." + +"That you can't tell without making the trial." + +"Well, supposing that's so," said Levin, though he did not +suppose so at all, "supposing that is so, still I don't see, all +the same, what I'm to worry myself about it for." + +"How so?" + +"No; since we are talking, explain it to me from the +philosophical point of view," said Levin. + +"I can't see where philosophy comes in," said Sergey Ivanovitch, +in a tone, Levin fancied, as though he did not admit his +brother's right to talk about philosophy. And that irritated +Levin. + +"I'll tell you, then," he said with heat, "I imagine the +mainspring of all our actions is, after all, self-interest. Now +in the local institutions I, as a nobleman, see nothing that +could conduce to my prosperity, and the roads are not better and +could not be better; my horses carry me well enough over bad +ones. Doctors and dispensaries are no use to me. An arbitrator +of disputes is no use to me. I never appeal to him, and never +shall appeal to him. The schools are no good to me, but +positively harmful, as I told you. For me the district +institutions simply mean the liability to pay fourpence halfpenny +for every three acres, to drive into the town, sleep with bugs, +and listen to all sorts of idiocy and loathsomeness, and +self-interest offers me no inducement." + +"Excuse me," Sergey Ivanovitch interposed with a smile, +"self-interest did not induce us to work for the emancipation of +the serfs, but we did work for it." + +"No!" Konstantin Levin broke in with still greater heat; "the +emancipation of the serfs was a different matter. There +self-interest did come in. One longed to throw off that yoke +that crushed us, all decent people among us. But to be a +town councilor and discuss how many dustmen are needed, and how +chimneys shall be constructed in the town in which I don't +live--to serve on a jury and try a peasant who's stolen a flitch +of bacon, and listen for six hours at a stretch to all sorts of +jabber from the counsel for the defense and the prosecution, and +the president cross-examining my old half-witted Alioshka, 'Do +you admit, prisoner in the dock, the fact of the removal of the +bacon?' 'Eh?'" + +Konstantin Levin had warmed to his subject, and began mimicking +the president and the half-witted Alioshka: it seemed to him that +it was all to the point. + +But Sergey Ivanovitch shrugged his shoulders. + +"Well, what do you mean to say, then?" + +"I simply mean to say that those rights that touch me...my +interest, I shall always defend to the best of my ability; that +when they made raids on us students, and the police read our +letters, I was ready to defend those rights to the utmost, to +defend my rights to education and freedom. I can understand +compulsory military service, which affects my children, my +brothers, and myself, I am ready to deliberate on what concerns +me; but deliberating on how to spend forty thousand roubles of +district council money, or judging the half-witted Alioshka--I +don't understand, and I can't do it." + +Konstantin Levin spoke as though the floodgates of his speech had +burst open. Sergey Ivanovitch smiled. + +"But tomorrow it'll be your turn to be tried; would it have +suited your tastes better to be tried in the old criminal +tribunal?" + +"I'm not going to be tried. I shan't murder anybody, and I've +no need of it. Well, I tell you what," he went on, flying off +again to a subject quite beside the point, "our district +self-government and all the rest of it--it's just like the +birch branches we stick in the ground on Trinity Day, for +instance, to look like a copse which has grown up of itself in +Europe, and I can't gush over these birch branches and believe +in them." + +Sergey Ivanovitch merely shrugged his shoulders, as though to +express his wonder how the birch branches had come into their +argument at that point, though he did really understand at once +what his brother meant. + +"Excuse me, but you know one really can't argue in that way," he +observed. + +But Konstantin Levin wanted to justify himself for the failing, +of which he was conscious, of lack of zeal for the public +welfare, and he went on. + +"I imagine," he said, "that no sort of activity is likely to be +lasting if it is not founded on self-interest, that's a universal +principle, a philosophical principle," he said, repeating the +word "philosophical" with determination, as though wishing to +show that he had as much right as any one else to talk of +philosophy. + +Sergey Ivanovitch smiled. "He too has a philosophy of his own at +the service of his natural tendencies," he thought. + +"Come, you'd better let philosophy alone," he said. "The chief +problem of the philosophy of all ages consists just in finding +the indispensable connection which exists between individual and +social interests. But that's not to the point; what is to the +point is a correction I must make in your comparison. The +birches are not simply stuck in, but some are sown and some are +planted, and one must deal carefully with them. It's only those +peoples that have an intuitive sense of what's of importance and +significance in their institutions, and know how to value them, +that have a future before them--it's only those peoples that one +can truly call historical." + +And Sergey Ivanovitch carried the subject into the regions of +philosophical history where Konstantin Levin could not follow +him, and showed him all the incorrectness of his view. + +"As for your dislike of it, excuse my saying so, that's simply +our Russian sloth and old serf-owner's ways, and I'm convinced +that in you it's a temporary error and will pass." + +Konstantin was silent. He felt himself vanquished on all sides, +but he felt at the same time that what he wanted to say was +unintelligible to his brother. Only he could not make up his +mind whether it was unintelligible because he was not capable of +expressing his meaning clearly, or because his brother would not +or could not understand him. But he did not pursue the +speculation, and without replying, he fell to musing on a quite +different and personal matter. + +Sergey Ivanovitch wound up the last line, untied the horse, and +they drove off. + + + +Chapter 4 + + +The personal matter that absorbed Levin during his conversation +with his brother was this. Once in a previous year he had gone +to look at the mowing, and being made very angry by the bailiff +he had recourse to his favorite means for regaining his temper,-- +he took a scythe from a peasant and began mowing. + +He liked the work so much that he had several times tried his +hand at mowing since. He had cut the whole of the meadow in +front of his house, and this year ever since the early spring he +had cherished a plan for mowing for whole days together with the +peasants. Ever since his brother's arrival, he had been in doubt +whether to mow or not. He was loath to leave his brother alone +all day long, and he was afraid his brother would laugh at him +about it. But as he drove into the meadow, and recalled the +sensations of mowing, he came near deciding that he would go +mowing. After the irritating discussion with his brother, he +pondered over this intention again. + +"I must have physical exercise, or my temper'll certainly be +ruined," he thought, and he determined he would go mowing, +however awkward he might feel about it with his brother or the +peasants. + +Towards evening Konstantin Levin went to his counting house, gave +directions as to the work to be done, and sent about the village +to summon the mowers for the morrow, to cut the hay in Kalinov +meadow, the largest and best of his grass lands. + +"And send my scythe, please, to Tit, for him to set it, and bring +it round tomorrow. I shall maybe do some mowing myself too," he +said, trying not to be embarrassed. + +The bailiff smiled and said: "Yes, sir." + +At tea the same evening Levin said to his brother: + +"I fancy the fine weather will last. Tomorrow I shall start +mowing." + +"I'm so fond of that form of field labor," said Sergey +Ivanovitch. + +"I'm awfully fond of it. I sometimes mow myself with the +peasants, and tomorrow I want to try mowing the whole day." + +Sergey Ivanovitch lifted his head, and looked with interest at +his brother. + +"How do you mean? Just like one of the peasants, all day long?" + +"Yes, it's very pleasant," said Levin. + +"It's splendid as exercise, only you'll hardly be able to stand +it," said Sergey Ivanovitch, without a shade of irony. + +"I've tried it. It's hard work at first, but you get into it. +I dare say I shall manage to keep it up..." + +"Really! what an idea! But tell me, how do the peasants look at +it? I suppose they laugh in their sleeves at their master's +being such a queer fish?" + +"No, I don't think so; but it's so delightful, and at the same +time such hard work, that one has no time to think about it." + +"But how will you do about dining with them? To send you a +bottle of Lafitte and roast turkey out there would be a little +awkward." + +"No, I'll simply come home at the time of their noonday rest." + +Next morning Konstantin Levin got up earlier than usual, but he +was detained giving directions on the farm, and when he reached +the mowing grass the mowers were already at their second row. + +From the uplands he could get a view of the shaded cut part of +the meadow below, with its grayish ridges of cut grass, and the +black heaps of coats, taken off by the mowers at the place from +which they had started cutting. + +Gradually, as he rode towards the meadow, the peasants came into +sight, some in coats, some in their shirts mowing, one behind +another in a long string, swinging their scythes differently. He +counted forty-two of them. + +They were mowing slowly over the uneven, low-lying parts of the +meadow, where there had been an old dam. Levin recognized some +of his own men. Here was old Yermil in a very long white smock, +bending forward to swing a scythe; there was a young fellow, +Vaska, who had been a coachman of Levin's, taking every row with +a wide sweep. Here, too, was Tit, Levin's preceptor in the art +of mowing, a thin little peasant. He was in front of all, and +cut his wide row without bending, as though playing with the +scythe. + +Levin got off his mare, and fastening her up by the roadside went +to meet Tit, who took a second scythe out of a bush and gave it +to him. + +"It's ready, sir; it's like a razor, cuts of itself," said Tit, +taking off his cap with a smile and giving him the scythe. + +Levin took the scythe, and began trying it. As they finished +their rows, the mowers, hot and good-humored, came out into the +road one after another, and, laughing a little, greeted the +master. They all stared at him, but no one made any remark, till +a tall old man, with a wrinkled, beardless face, wearing a short +sheepskin jacket, came out into the road and accosted him. + +"Look'ee now, master, once take hold of the rope there's no +letting it go!" he said, and Levin heard smothered laughter among +the mowers. + +"I'll try not to let it go," he said, taking his stand behind +Tit, and waiting for the time to begin. + +"Mind'ee," repeated the old man. + +Tit made room, and Levin started behind him. The grass was short +close to the road, and Levin, who had not done any mowing for a +long while, and was disconcerted by the eyes fastened upon him, +cut badly for the first moments, though he swung his scythe +vigorously. Behind him he heard voices: + +"It's not set right; handle's too high; see how he has to stoop +to it," said one. + +"Press more on the heel," said another. + +"Never mind, he'll get on all right," the old man resumed. + +"He's made a start.... You swing it too wide, you'll tire +yourself out.... The master, sure, does his best for himself! +But see the grass missed out! For such work us fellows would +catch it!" + +The grass became softer, and Levin, listening without answering, +followed Tit, trying to do the best he could. They moved a +hundred paces. Tit kept moving on, without stopping, not showing +the slightest weariness, but Levin was already beginning to be +afraid he would not be able to keep it up: he was so tired. + +He felt as he swung his scythe that he was at the very end of his +strength, and was making up his mind to ask Tit to stop. But at +that very moment Tit stopped of his own accord, and stooping down +picked up some grass, rubbed his scythe, and began whetting it. +Levin straightened himself, and drawing a deep breath looked +round. Behind him came a peasant, and he too was evidently +tired, for he stopped at once without waiting to mow up to Levin, +and began whetting his scythe. Tit sharpened his scythe and +Levin's, and they went on. The next time it was just the same. +Tit moved on with sweep after sweep of his scythe, not stopping +nor showing signs of weariness. Levin followed him, trying not to +get left behind, and he found it harder and harder: the moment +came when he felt he had no strength left, but at that very +moment Tit stopped and whetted the scythes. + +So they mowed the first row. And this long row seemed +particularly hard work to Levin; but when the end was reached and +Tit, shouldering his scythe, began with deliberate stride +returning on the tracks left by his heels in the cut grass, and +Levin walked back in the same way over the space he had cut, in +spite of the sweat that ran in streams over his face and fell in +drops down his nose, and drenched his back as though he had been +soaked in water, he felt very happy. What delighted him +particularly was that now he knew he would be able to hold out. + +His pleasure was only disturbed by his row not being well cut. +"I will swing less with my arm and more with my whole body," he +thought, comparing Tit's row, which looked as if it had been cut +with a line, with his own unevenly and irregularly lying grass. + +The first row, as Levin noticed, Tit had mowed specially quickly, +probably wishing to put his master to the test, and the row +happened to be a long one. The next rows were easier, but still +Levin had to strain every nerve not to drop behind the peasants. + +He thought of nothing, wished for nothing, but not to be left +behind the peasants, and to do his work as well as possible. He +heard nothing but the swish of scythes, and saw before him Tit's +upright figure mowing away, the crescent-shaped curve of the cut +grass, the grass and flower heads slowly and rhythmically falling +before the blade of his scythe, and ahead of him the end of the +row, where would come the rest. + +Suddenly, in the midst of his toil, without understanding what it +was or whence it came, he felt a pleasant sensation of chill on +his hot, moist shoulders. He glanced at the sky in the interval +for whetting the scythes. A heavy, lowering storm cloud had +blown up, and big raindrops were falling. Some of the peasants +went to their coats and put them on; others--just like Levin +himself--merely shrugged their shoulders, enjoying the pleasant +coolness of it. + +Another row, and yet another row, followed--long rows and short +rows, with good grass and with poor grass. Levin lost all sense +of time, and could not have told whether it was late or early +now. A change began to come over his work, which gave him +immense satisfaction. In the midst of his toil there were +moments during which he forgot what he was doing, and it came all +easy to him, and at those same moments his row was almost as +smooth and well cut as Tit's. But so soon as he recollected what +he was doing, and began trying to do better, he was at once +conscious of all the difficulty of his task, and the row was +badly mown. + +On finishing yet another row he would have gone back to the top +of the meadow again to begin the next, but Tit stopped, and going +up to the old man said something in a low voice to him. They +both looked at the sun. "What are they talking about, and why +doesn't he go back?" thought Levin, not guessing that the +peasants had been mowing no less than four hours without +stopping, and it was time for their lunch. + +"Lunch, sir," said the old man. + +"Is it really time? That's right; lunch, then." + +Levin gave his scythe to Tit, and together with the peasants, who +were crossing the long stretch of mown grass, slightly sprinkled +with rain, to get their bread from the heap of coats, he went +towards his house. Only then he suddenly awoke to the fact that +he had been wrong about the weather and the rain was drenching +his hay. + +"The hay will be spoiled," he said. + +"Not a bit of it, sir; mow in the rain, and you'll rake in fine +weather!" said the old man. + +Levin untied his horse and rode home to his coffee. Sergey +Ivanovitch was only just getting up. When he had drunk his +coffee, Levin rode back again to the mowing before Sergey +Ivanovitch had had time to dress and come down to the +dining room. + + + +Chapter 5 + + +After lunch Levin was not in the same place in the string of +mowers as before, but stood between the old man who had accosted +him jocosely, and now invited him to be his neighbor, and a young +peasant, who had only been married in the autumn, and who was +mowing this summer for the first time. + +The old man, holding himself erect, moved in front, with his feet +turned out, taking long, regular strides, and with a precise and +regular action which seemed to cost him no more effort than +swinging one's arms in walking, as though it were in play, he +laid down the high, even row of grass. It was as though it were +not he but the sharp scythe of itself swishing through the juicy +grass. + +Behind Levin came the lad Mishka. His pretty, boyish face, with +a twist of fresh grass bound round his hair, was all working with +effort; but whenever anyone looked at him he smiled. He would +clearly have died sooner than own it was hard work for him. + +Levin kept between them. In the very heat of the day the mowing +did not seem such hard work to him. The perspiration with which +he was drenched cooled him, while the sun, that burned his back, +his head, and his arms, bare to the elbow, gave a vigor and +dogged energy to his labor; and more and more often now came +those moments of unconsciousness, when it was possible not to +think what one was doing. The scythe cut of itself. These were +happy moments. Still more delightful were the moments when they +reached the stream where the rows ended, and the old man rubbed +his scythe with the wet, thick grass, rinsed its blade in +the fresh water of the stream, ladled out a little in a tin +dipper, and offered Levin a drink. + +"What do you say to my home-brew, eh? Good, eh?" said he, +winking. + +And truly Levin had never drunk any liquor so good as this warm +water with green bits floating in it, and a taste of rust from +the tin dipper. And immediately after this came the delicious, +slow saunter, with his hand on the scythe, during which he could +wipe away the streaming sweat, take deep breaths of air, and look +about at the long string of mowers and at what was happening +around in the forest and the country. + +The longer Levin mowed, the oftener he felt the moments of +unconsciousness in which it seemed not his hands that swung the +scythe, but the scythe mowing of itself, a body full of life and +consciousness of its own, and as though by magic, without +thinking of it, the work turned out regular and well-finished of +itself. These were the most blissful moments. + +It was only hard work when he had to break off the motion, which +had become unconscious, and to think; when he had to mow round a +hillock or a tuft of sorrel. The old man did this easily. When +a hillock came he changed his action, and at one time with the +heel, and at another with the tip of his scythe, clipped the +hillock round both sides with short strokes. And while he did +this he kept looking about and watching what came into his view: +at one moment he picked a wild berry and ate it or offered it to +Levin, then he flung away a twig with the blade of the scythe, +then he looked at a quail's nest, from which the bird flew just +under the scythe, or caught a snake that crossed his path, and +lifting it on the scythe as though on a fork showed it to Levin +and threw it away. + +For both Levin and the young peasant behind him, such changes of +position were difficult. Both of them, repeating over and over +again the same strained movement, were in a perfect frenzy of +toil, and were incapable of shifting their position and at the +same time watching what was before them. + +Levin did not notice how time was passing. If he had been asked +how long he had been working he would have said half an hour-- +and it was getting on for dinner time. As they were walking back +over the cut grass, the old man called Levin's attention to the +little girls and boys who were coming from different directions, +hardly visible through the long grass, and along the road towards +the mowers, carrying sacks of bread dragging at their little +hands and pitchers of the sour rye-beer, with cloths wrapped +round them. + +"Look'ee, the little emmets crawling!" he said, pointing to them, +and he shaded his eyes with his hand to look at the sun. They +mowed two more rows; the old man stopped. + +"Come, master, dinner time!" he said briskly. And on reaching +the stream the mowers moved off across the lines of cut grass +towards their pile of coats, where the children who had brought +their dinners were sitting waiting for them. The peasants +gathered into groups--those further away under a cart, those +nearer under a willow bush. + +Levin sat down by them; he felt disinclined to go away. + +All constraint with the master had disappeared long ago. The +peasants got ready for dinner. Some washed, the young lads +bathed in the stream, others made a place comfortable for a rest, +untied their sacks of bread, and uncovered the pitchers of +rye-beer. The old man crumbled up some bread in a cup, stirred +it with the handle of a spoon, poured water on it from the +dipper, broke up some more bread, and having seasoned it with +salt, he turned to the east to say his prayer. + +"Come, master, taste my sop," said he, kneeling down before the +cup. + +The sop was so good that Levin gave up the idea of going home. +He dined with the old man, and talked to him about his family +affairs, taking the keenest interest in them, and told him about +his own affairs and all the circumstances that could be of +interest to the old man. He felt much nearer to him than to his +brother, and could not help smiling at the affection he felt for +this man. When the old man got up again, said his prayer, and +lay down under a bush, putting some grass under his head for a +pillow, Levin did the same, and in spite of the clinging flies +that were so persistent in the sunshine, and the midges that +tickled his hot face and body, he fell asleep at once and only +waked when the sun had passed to the other side of the bush and +reached him. The old man had been awake a long while, and was +sitting up whetting the scythes of the younger lads. + +Levin looked about him and hardly recognized the place, +everything was so changed. The immense stretch of meadow had +been mown and was sparkling with a peculiar fresh brilliance, +with its lines of already sweet-smelling grass in the slanting +rays of the evening sun. And the bushes about the river had been +cut down, and the river itself, not visible before, now gleaming +like steel in its bends, and the moving, ascending, peasants, and +the sharp wall of grass of the unmown part of the meadow, and the +hawks hovering over the stripped meadow--all was perfectly new. +Raising himself, Levin began considering how much had been cut +and how much more could still be done that day. + +The work done was exceptionally much for forty-two men. They had +cut the whole of the big meadow, which had, in the years of serf +labor, taken thirty scythes two days to mow. Only the corners +remained to do, where the rows were short. But Levin felt a +longing to get as much mowing done that day as possible, and was +vexed with the sun sinking so quickly in the sky. He felt no +weariness; all he wanted was to get his work done more and more +quickly and as much done as possible. + +"Could you cut Mashkin Upland too?--what do you think?" he said +to the old man. + +"As God wills, the sun's not high. A little vodka for the lads?" + +At the afternoon rest, when they were sitting down again, and +those who smoked had lighted their pipes, the old man told the +men that "Mashkin Upland's to be cut--there'll be some vodka." + +"Why not cut it? Come on, Tit! We'll look sharp! We can eat at +night. Come on!" cried voices, and eating up their bread, the +mowers went back to work. + +"Come, lads, keep it up!" said Tit, and ran on ahead almost at a +trot. + +"Get along, get along!" said the old man, hurrying after him and +easily overtaking him, "I'll mow you down, look out!" + +And young and old mowed away, as though they were racing with one +another. But however fast they worked, they did not spoil the +grass, and the rows were laid just as neatly and exactly. The +little piece left uncut in the corner was mown in five minutes. +The last of the mowers were just ending their rows while the +foremost snatched up their coats onto their shoulders, and +crossed the road towards Mashkin Upland. + +The sun was already sinking into the trees when they went with +their jingling dippers into the wooded ravine of Mashkin Upland. +The grass was up to their waists in the middle of the hollow, +soft, tender, and feathery, spotted here and there among the +trees with wild heart's-ease. + +After a brief consultation--whether to take the rows lengthwise +or diagonally--Prohor Yermilin, also a renowned mower, a huge, +black-haired peasant, went on ahead. He went up to the top, +turned back again and started mowing, and they all proceeded to +form in line behind him, going downhill through the hollow and +uphill right up to the edge of the forest. The sun sank behind +the forest. The dew was falling by now; the mowers were in the +sun only on the hillside, but below, where a mist was rising, and +on the opposite side, they mowed into the fresh, dewy shade. The +work went rapidly. The grass cut with a juicy sound, and was at +once laid in high, fragrant rows. The mowers from all sides, +brought closer together in the short row, kept urging one another +on to the sound of jingling dippers and clanging scythes, and the +hiss of the whetstones sharpening them, and good-humored shouts. + +Levin still kept between the young peasant and the old man. The +old man, who had put on his short sheepskin jacket, was just as +good-humored, jocose, and free in his movements. Among the trees +they were continually cutting with their scythes the so-called +"birch mushrooms," swollen fat in the succulent grass. But the +old man bent down every time he came across a mushroom, picked it +up and put it in his bosom. "Another present for my old woman," +he said as he did so. + +Easy as it was to mow the wet, soft grass, it was hard work going +up and down the steep sides of the ravine. But this did not +trouble the old man. Swinging his scythe just as ever, and +moving his feet in their big, plaited shoes with firm, little +steps, he climbed slowly up the steep place, and though his +breeches hanging out below his smock, and his whole frame +trembled with effort, he did not miss one blade of grass or one +mushroom on his way, and kept making jokes with the peasants and +Levin. Levin walked after him and often thought he must fall, as +he climbed with a scythe up a steep cliff where it would have +been hard work to clamber without anything. But he climbed up +and did what he had to do. He felt as though some external force +were moving him. + + + +Chapter 6 + + +Mashkin Upland was mown, the last row finished, the peasants had +put on their coats and were gaily trudging home. Levin got on +his horse and, parting regretfully from the peasants, rode +homewards. On the hillside he looked back; he could not see them +in the mist that had risen from the valley; he could only hear +rough, good-humored voices, laughter, and the sound of clanking +scythes. + +Sergey Ivanovitch had long ago finished dinner, and was drinking +iced lemon and water in his own room, looking through the reviews +and papers which he had only just received by post, when Levin +rushed into the room, talking merrily, with his wet and matted +hair sticking to his forehead, and his back and chest grimed and +moist. + +"We mowed the whole meadow! Oh, it is nice, delicious! And how +have you been getting on?" said Levin, completely forgetting the +disagreeable conversation of the previous day. + +"Mercy! what do you look like!" said Sergey Ivanovitch, for the +first moment looking round with some dissatisfaction. "And the +door, do shut the door!" he cried. "You must have let in a dozen +at least." + +Sergey Ivanovitch could not endure flies, and in his own room he +never opened the window except at night, and carefully kept the +door shut. + +"Not one, on my honor. But if I have, I'll catch them. You +wouldn't believe what a pleasure it is! How have you spent the +day?" + +"Very well. But have you really been mowing the whole day? I +expect you're as hungry as a wolf. Kouzma has got everything +ready for you." + +"No, I don't feel hungry even. I had something to eat there. +But I'll go and wash." + +"Yes, go along, go along, and I'll come to you directly," said +Sergey Ivanovitch, shaking his head as he looked at his brother. +"Go along, make haste," he added smiling, and gathering up his +books, he prepared to go too. He, too, felt suddenly +good-humored and disinclined to leave his brother's side. "But +what did you do while it was raining?" + +"Rain? Why, there was scarcely a drop. I'll come directly. So +you had a nice day too? That's first-rate." And Levin went off +to change his clothes. + +Five minutes later the brothers met in the dining room. Although +it seemed to Levin that he was not hungry, and he sat down to +dinner simply so as not to hurt Kouzma's feelings, yet when he +began to eat the dinner struck him as extraordinarily good. +Sergey Ivanovitch watched him with a smile. + +"Oh, by the way, there's a letter for you," said he. "Kouzma, +bring it down, please. And mind you shut the doors." + +The letter was from Oblonsky. Levin read it aloud. Oblonsky +wrote to him from Petersburg: "I have had a letter from Dolly; +she's at Ergushovo, and everything seems going wrong there. Do +ride over and see her, please; help her with advice; you know all +about it. She will be so glad to see you. She's quite alone, +poor thing. My mother-in-law and all of them are still abroad." + +"That's capital! I will certainly ride over to her," said Levin. +"Or we'll go together. She's such a splendid woman, isn't she?" + +"They're not far from here, then?" + +"Twenty-five miles. Or perhaps it is thirty. But a capital +road. Capital, we'll drive over." + +"I shall be delighted," said Sergey Ivanovitch, still smiling. +The sight of his younger brother's appearance had immediately put +him in a good humor. + +"Well, you have an appetite!" he said, looking at his dark-red, +sunburnt face and neck bent over the plate. + +"Splendid! You can't imagine what an effectual remedy it is for +every sort of foolishness. I want to enrich medicine with a new +word: _Arbeitskur_." + +"Well, but you don't need it, I should fancy." + +"No, but for all sorts of nervous invalids." + +"Yes, it ought to be tried. I had meant to come to the mowing to +look at you, but it was so unbearably hot that I got no further +than the forest. I sat there a little, and went on by the +forest to the village, met your old nurse, and sounded her as to +the peasants' view of you. As far as I can make out, they don't +approve of this. She said: 'It's not a gentleman's work.' +Altogether, I fancy that in the people's ideas there are very +clear and definite notions of certain, as they call it, +'gentlemanly' lines of action. And they don't sanction the +gentry's moving outside bounds clearly laid down in their ideas." + +"Maybe so; but anyway it's a pleasure such as I have never known +in my life. And there's no harm in it, you know. Is there?" +answered Levin. "I can't help it if they don't like it. Though +I do believe it's all right. Eh?" + +"Altogether," pursued Sergey Ivanovitch, "you're satisfied with +your day?" + +"Quite satisfied. We cut the whole meadow. And such a splendid +old man I made friends with there! You can't fancy how +delightful he was!" + +"Well, so you're content with your day. And so am I. First, I +solved two chess problems, and one a very pretty one--a pawn +opening. I'll show it you. And then--I thought over our +conversation yesterday." + +"Eh! our conversation yesterday?" said Levin, blissfully dropping +his eyelids and drawing deep breaths after finishing his dinner, +and absolutely incapable of recalling what their conversation +yesterday was about. + +"I think you are partly right. Our difference of opinion amounts +to this, that you make the mainspring self-interest, while I +suppose that interest in the common weal is bound to exist in +every man of a certain degree of advancement. Possibly you are +right too, that action founded on material interest would be more +desirable. You are altogether, as the French say, too +_primesautiere_ a nature; you must have intense, energetic action, +or nothing." + +Levin listened to his brother and did not understand a single +word, and did not want to understand. He was only afraid his +brother might ask him some question which would make it evident +he had not heard. + +"So that's what I think it is, my dear boy," said Sergey +Ivanovitch, touching him on the shoulder. + +"Yes, of course. But, do you know? I won't stand up for my +view," answered Levin, with a guilty, childlike smile. "Whatever +was it I was disputing about?" he wondered. "Of course, I'm +right, and he's right, and it's all first-rate. Only I must go +round to the counting house and see to things." He got up, +stretching and smiling. Sergey Ivanovitch smiled too. + +"If you want to go out, let's go together," he said, disinclined +to be parted from his brother, who seemed positively breathing +out freshness and energy. "Come, we'll go to the counting house, +if you have to go there." + +"Oh, heavens!" shouted Levin, so loudly that Sergey Ivanovitch +was quite frightened. + +"What, what is the matter?" + +"How's Agafea Mihalovna's hand?" said Levin, slapping himself on +the head. "I'd positively forgotten her even." + +"It's much better." + +"Well, anyway I'll run down to her. Before you've time to get +your hat on, I'll be back." + +And he ran downstairs, clattering with his heels like a +spring-rattle. + + + +Chapter 7 + + +Stephan Arkadyevitch had gone to Petersburg to perform the most +natural and essential official duty--so familiar to everyone in +the government service, though incomprehensible to outsiders-- +that duty, but for which one could hardly be in government +service, of reminding the ministry of his existence--and having, +for the due performance of this rite, taken all the available +cash from home, was gaily and agreeably spending his days at the +races and in the summer villas. Meanwhile Dolly and the children +had moved into the country, to cut down expenses as much as +possible. She had gone to Ergushovo, the estate that had been +her dowry, and the one where in spring the forest had been sold. +It was nearly forty miles from Levin's Pokrovskoe. The big, old +house at Ergushovo had been pulled down long ago, and the old +prince had had the lodge done up and built on to. Twenty years +before, when Dolly was a child, the lodge had been roomy and +comfortable, though, like all lodges, it stood sideways to the +entrance avenue, and faced the south. But by now this lodge was +old and dilapidated. When Stepan Arkadyevitch had gone down in +the spring to sell the forest, Dolly had begged him to look over +the house and order what repairs might be needed. Stepan +Arkadyevitch, like all unfaithful husbands indeed, was very +solicitous for his wife's comfort, and he had himself looked over +the house, and given instructions about everything that he +considered necessary. What he considered necessary was to cover +all the furniture with cretonne, to put up curtains, to weed the +garden, to make a little bridge on the pond, and to plant +flowers. But he forgot many other essential matters, the want of +which greatly distressed Darya Alexandrovna later on. + +In spite of Stepan Arkadyevitch's efforts to be an attentive +father and husband, he never could keep in his mind that he had a +wife and children. He had bachelor tastes, and it was in +accordance with them that he shaped his life. On his return to +Moscow he informed his wife with pride that everything was ready, +that the house would be a little paradise, and that he advised +her most certainly to go. His wife's staying away in the country +was very agreeable to Stepan Arkadyevitch from every point of +view: it did the children good, it decreased expenses, and it +left him more at liberty. Darya Alexandrovna regarded staying in +the country for the summer as essential for the children, +especially for the little girl, who had not succeeded in +regaining her strength after the scarlatina, and also as a means +of escaping the petty humiliations, the little bills owing to the +wood-merchant, the fishmonger, the shoemaker, which made her +miserable. Besides this, she was pleased to go away to the +country because she was dreaming of getting her sister Kitty to +stay with her there. Kitty was to be back from abroad in the +middle of the summer, and bathing had been prescribed for her. +Kitty wrote that no prospect was so alluring as to spend the +summer with Dolly at Ergushovo, full of childish associations for +both of them. + +The first days of her existence in the country were very hard for +Dolly. She used to stay in the country as a child, and the +impression she had retained of it was that the country was a +refuge from all the unpleasantness of the town, that life there, +though not luxurious--Dolly could easily make up her mind to +that--was cheap and comfortable; that there was plenty of +everything, everything was cheap, everything could be got, and +children were happy. But now coming to the country as the head +of a family, she perceived that it was all utterly unlike what +she had fancied. + +The day after their arrival there was a heavy fall of rain, and +in the night the water came through in the corridor and in the +nursery, so that the beds had to be carried into the drawing +room. There was no kitchen maid to be found; of the nine cows, +it appeared from the words of the cowherd-woman that some were +about to calve, others had just calved, others were old, and +others again hard-uddered; there was not butter nor milk enough +even for the children. There were no eggs. They could get no +fowls; old, purplish, stringy cocks were all they had for +roasting and boiling. Impossible to get women to scrub the +floors--all were potato-hoeing. Driving was out of the +question, because one of the horses was restive, and bolted in +the shafts. There was no place where they could bathe; the whole +of the river-bank was trampled by the cattle and open to the +road; even walks were impossible, for the cattle strayed into the +garden through a gap in the hedge, and there was one terrible +bull, who bellowed, and therefore might be expected to gore +somebody. There were no proper cupboards for their clothes; what +cupboards there were either would not close at all, or burst open +whenever anyone passed by them. There were no pots and pans; +there was no copper in the washhouse, nor even an ironing-board +in the maids' room. + +Finding instead of peace and rest all these, from her point of +view, fearful calamities, Darya Alexandrovna was at first in +despair. She exerted herself to the utmost, felt the +hopelessness of the position, and was every instant suppressing +the tears that started into her eyes. The bailiff, a retired +quartermaster, whom Stepan Arkadyevitch had taken a fancy to and +had appointed bailiff on account of his handsome and respectful +appearance as a hall-porter, showed no sympathy for Darya +Alexandrovna's woes. He said respectfully, "nothing can be done, +the peasants are such a wretched lot," and did nothing to help +her. + +The position seemed hopeless. But in the Oblonskys' household, +as in all families indeed, there was one inconspicuous but most +valuable and useful person, Marya Philimonovna. She soothed her +mistress, assured her that everything would _come round_ (it was +her expression, and Matvey had borrowed it from her), and without +fuss or hurry proceeded to set to work herself. She had +immediately made friends with the bailiff's wife, and on the very +first day she drank tea with her and the bailiff under the +acacias, and reviewed all the circumstances of the position. +Very soon Marya Philimonovna had established her club, so to say, +under the acacias, and there it was, in this club, consisting of +the bailiff's wife, the village elder, and the counting house +clerk, that the difficulties of existence were gradually smoothed +away, and in a week's time everything actually had come round. +The roof was mended, a kitchen maid was found--a crony of the +village elder's--hens were bought, the cows began giving milk, +the garden hedge was stopped up with stakes, the carpenter made a +mangle, hooks were put in the cupboards, and they ceased to burst +open spontaneously, and an ironing-board covered with army cloth +was placed across from the arm of a chair to the chest of +drawers, and there was a smell of flatirons in the maids' room. + +"Just see, now, and you were quite in despair," said Marya +Philimonovna, pointing to the ironing-board. They even rigged up +a bathing-shed of straw hurdles. Lily began to bathe, and Darya +Alexandrovna began to realize, if only in part, her expectations, +if not of a peaceful, at least of a comfortable, life in the +country. Peaceful with six children Darya Alexandrovna could not +be. One would fall ill, another might easily become so, a third +would be without something necessary, a fourth would show +symptoms of a bad disposition, and so on. Rare indeed were the +brief periods of peace. But these cares and anxieties were for +Darya Alexandrovna the sole happiness possible. Had it not been +for them, she would have been left alone to brood over her +husband who did not love her. And besides, hard though it was +for the mother to bear the dread of illness, the illnesses +themselves, and the grief of seeing signs of evil propensities in +her children--the children themselves were even now repaying her +in small joys for her sufferings. Those joys were so small that +they passed unnoticed, like gold in sand, and at bad moments she +could see nothing but the pain, nothing but sand; but there were +good moments too when she saw nothing but the joy, nothing but +gold. + +Now in the solitude of the country, she began to be more and more +frequently aware of those joys. Often, looking at them, she +would make every possible effort to persuade herself that she was +mistaken, that she as a mother was partial to her children. All +the same, she could not help saying to herself that she had +charming children, all six of them in different ways, but a set +of children such as is not often to be met with, and she was +happy in them, and proud of them. + + + +Chapter 8 + + +Towards the end of May, when everything had been more or less +satisfactorily arranged, she received her husband's answer to her +complaints of the disorganized state of things in the country. +He wrote begging her forgiveness for not having thought of +everything before, and promised to come down at the first chance. +This chance did not present itself, and till the beginning of +June Darya Alexandrovna stayed alone in the country. + +On the Sunday in St. Peter's week Darya Alexandrovna drove to +mass for all her children to take the sacrament. Darya +Alexandrovna in her intimate, philosophical talks with her +sister, her mother, and her friends very often astonished them by +the freedom of her views in regard to religion. She had a +strange religion of transmigration of souls all her own, in which +she had firm faith, troubling herself little about the dogmas of +the Church. But in her family she was strict in carrying out all +that was required by the Church--and not merely in order to set +an example, but with all her heart in it. The fact that the +children had not been at the sacrament for nearly a year worried +her extremely, and with the full approval and sympathy of Marya +Philimonovna she decided that this should take place now in the +summer. + +For several days before, Darya Alexandrovna was busily +deliberating on how to dress all the children. Frocks were made +or altered and washed, seams and flounces were let out, buttons +were sewn on, and ribbons got ready. One dress, Tanya's, which +the English governess had undertaken, cost Darya Alexandrovna +much loss of temper. The English governess in altering it had +made the seams in the wrong place, had taken up the sleeves too +much, and altogether spoilt the dress. It was so narrow on +Tanya's shoulders that it was quite painful to look at her. But +Marya Philimonovna had the happy thought of putting in gussets, +and adding a little shoulder-cape. The dress was set right, but +there was nearly a quarrel with the English governess. On the +morning, however, all was happily arranged, and towards ten +o'clock--the time at which they had asked the priest to wait for +them for the mass--the children in their new dresses, with +beaming faces, stood on the step before the carriage waiting +for their mother. + +To the carriage, instead of the restive Raven, they had +harnessed, thanks to the representations of Marya Philimonovna, +the bailiff's horse, Brownie, and Darya Alexandrovna, delayed by +anxiety over her own attire, came out and got in, dressed in a +white muslin gown. + +Darya Alexandrovna had done her hair, and dressed with care and +excitement. In the old days she had dressed for her own sake to +look pretty and be admired. Later on, as she got older, dress +became more and more distasteful to her. She saw that she was +losing her good looks. But now she began to feel pleasure and +interest in dress again. Now she did not dress for her own sake, +not for the sake of her own beauty, but simply that as the mother +of those exquisite creatures she might not spoil the general +effect. And looking at herself for the last time in the +looking-glass she was satisfied with herself. She looked nice. +Not nice as she would have wished to look nice in old days at a +ball, but nice for the object which she now had in view. + +In the church there was no one but the peasants, the servants and +their women-folk. But Darya Alexandrovna saw, or fancied she +saw, the sensation produced by her children and her. The +children were not only beautiful to look at in their smart little +dresses, but they were charming in the way they behaved. +Aliosha, it is true, did not stand quite correctly; he kept +turning round, trying to look at his little jacket from behind; +but all the same he was wonderfully sweet. Tanya behaved like a +grownup person, and looked after the little ones. And the +smallest, Lily, was bewitching in her naive astonishment at +everything, and it was difficult not to smile when, after taking +the sacrament, she said in English, "Please, some more." + +On the way home the children felt that something solemn had +happened, and were very sedate. + +Everything went happily at home too; but at lunch Grisha began +whistling, and, what was worse, was disobedient to the English +governess, and was forbidden to have any tart. Darya +Alexandrovna would not have let things go so far on such a day +had she been present; but she had to support the English +governess's authority, and she upheld her decision that Grisha +should have no tart. This rather spoiled the general good humor. +Grisha cried, declaring that Nikolinka had whistled too, and he +was not punished, and that he wasn't crying for the tart--he +didn't care--but at being unjustly treated. This was really too +tragic, and Darya Alexandrovna made up her mind to persuade the +English governess to forgive Grisha, and she went to speak to +her. But on the way, as she passed the drawing room, she beheld +a scene, filling her heart with such pleasure that the tears came +into her eyes, and she forgave the delinquent herself. + +The culprit was sitting at the window in the corner of the +drawing room; beside him was standing Tanya with a plate. On the +pretext of wanting to give some dinner to her dolls, she had +asked the governess's permission to take her share of tart to the +nursery, and had taken it instead to her brother. While still +weeping over the injustice of his punishment, he was eating the +tart, and kept saying through his sobs, "Eat yourself; let's eat +it together...together." + +Tanya had at first been under the influence of her pity for +Grisha, then of a sense of her noble action, and tears were +standing in her eyes too; but she did not refuse, and ate her +share. + +On catching sight of their mother they were dismayed, but, +looking into her face, they saw they were not doing wrong. They +burst out laughing, and, with their mouths full of tart, they +began wiping their smiling lips with their hands, and smearing +their radiant faces all over with tears and jam. + +"Mercy! Your new white frock! Tanya! Grisha!" said their +mother, trying to save the frock, but with tears in her eyes, +smiling a blissful, rapturous smile. + +The new frocks were taken off, and orders were given for the +little girls to have their blouses put on, and the boys their old +jackets, and the wagonette to be harnessed; with Brownie, to the +bailiff's annoyance, again in the shafts, to drive out for +mushroom picking and bathing. A roar of delighted shrieks arose +in the nursery, and never ceased till they had set off for the +bathing-place. + +They gathered a whole basketful of mushrooms; even Lily found a +birch mushroom. It had always happened before that Miss Hoole +found them and pointed them out to her; but this time she found a +big one quite of herself, and there was a general scream of +delight, "Lily has found a mushroom!" + +Then they reached the river, put the horses under the birch +trees, and went to the bathing-place. The coachman, Terenty, +fastened the horses, who kept whisking away the flies, to a tree, +and, treading down the grass, lay down in the shade of a birch +and smoked his shag, while the never-ceasing shrieks of delight +of the children floated across to him from the bathing-place. + +Though it was hard work to look after all the children and +restrain their wild pranks, though it was difficult too to keep +in one's head and not mix up all the stockings, little breeches, +and shoes for the different legs, and to undo and to do up again +all the tapes and buttons, Darya Alexandrovna, who had always +liked bathing herself, and believed it to be very good for the +children, enjoyed nothing so much as bathing with all the +children. To go over all those fat little legs, pulling on their +stockings, to take in her arms and dip those little naked bodies, +and to hear their screams of delight and alarm, to see the +breathless faces with wide-open, scared, and happy eyes of all +her splashing cherubs, was a great pleasure to her. + +When half the children had been dressed, some peasant women in +holiday dress, out picking herbs, came up to the bathing-shed and +stopped shyly. Marya Philimonovna called one of them and handed +her a sheet and a shirt that had dropped into the water for her +to dry them, and Darya Alexandrovna began to talk to the women. +At first they laughed behind their hands and did not understand +her questions, but soon they grew bolder and began to talk, +winning Darya Alexandrovna's heart at once by the genuine +admiration of the children that they showed. + +"My, what a beauty! as white as sugar," said one, admiring +Tanitchka, and shaking her head; "but thin..." + +"Yes, she has been ill." + +"And so they've been bathing you too," said another to the baby. + +"No; he's only three months old," answered Darya Alexandrovna +with pride. + +"You don't say so!" + +"And have you any children?" + +"I've had four; I've two living--a boy and a girl. I weaned her +last carnival." + +"How old is she?" + +"Why, two years old." + +"Why did you nurse her so long?" + +"It's our custom; for three fasts..." + +And the conversation became most interesting to Darya +Alexandrovna. What sort of time did she have? What was the +matter with the boy? Where was her husband? Did it often +happen? + +Darya Alexandrovna felt disinclined to leave the peasant women, +so interesting to her was their conversation, so completely +identical were all their interests. What pleased her most of all +was that she saw clearly what all the women admired more than +anything was her having so many children, and such fine ones. +The peasant women even made Darya Alexandrovna laugh, and +offended the English governess, because she was the cause of the +laughter she did not understand. One of the younger women kept +staring at the Englishwoman, who was dressing after all the rest, +and when she put on her third petticoat she could not refrain +from the remark, "My, she keeps putting on and putting on, and +she'll never have done!" she said, and they all went off into +roars. + + + +Chapter 9 + + +On the drive home, as Darya Alexandrovna, with all her children +round her, their heads still wet from their bath, and a kerchief +tied over her own head, was getting near the house, the coachman +said, "There's some gentleman coming: the master of Pokrovskoe, +I do believe." + +Darya Alexandrovna peeped out in front, and was delighted when +she recognized in the gray hat and gray coat the familiar figure +of Levin walking to meet them. She was glad to see him at any +time, but at this moment she was specially glad he should see her +in all her glory. No one was better able to appreciate her +grandeur than Levin. + +Seeing her, he found himself face to face with one of the +pictures of his daydream of family life. + +"You're like a hen with your chickens, Darya Alexandrovna." + +"Ah, how glad I am to see you!" she said, holding out her hand +to him. + +"Glad to see me, but you didn't let me know. My brother's +staying with me. I got a note from Stiva that you were here." + +"From Stiva?" Darya Alexandrovna asked with surprise. + +"Yes; he writes that you are here, and that he thinks you might +allow me to be of use to you," said Levin, and as he said it he +became suddenly embarrassed, and, stopping abruptly, he walked on +in silence by the wagonette, snapping off the buds of the +lime trees and nibbling them. He was embarrassed through a sense +that Darya Alexandrovna would be annoyed by receiving from an +outsider help that should by rights have come from her own +husband. Darya Alexandrovna certainly did not like this little +way of Stepan Arkadyevitch's of foisting his domestic duties on +others. And she was at once aware that Levin was aware of this. +It was just for this fineness of perception, for this delicacy, +that Darya Alexandrovna liked Levin. + +"I know, of course," said Levin, "that that simply means that you +would like to see me, and I'm exceedingly glad. Though I can +fancy that, used to town housekeeping as you are, you must feel +in the wilds here, and if there's anything wanted, I'm altogether +at your disposal." + +"Oh, no!" said Dolly. "At first things were rather +uncomfortable, but now we've settled everything capitally-- +thanks to my old nurse," she said, indicating Marya Philimonovna, +who, seeing that they were speaking of her, smiled brightly and +cordially to Levin. She knew him, and knew that he would be a +good match for her young lady, and was very keen to see the +matter settled. + +"Won't you get in, sir, we'll make room this side!" she said to +him. + +"No, I'll walk. Children, who'd like to race the horses with +me?" The children knew Levin very little, and could not remember +when they had seen him, but they experienced in regard to him +none of that strange feeling of shyness and hostility which +children so often experience towards hypocritical, grown-up +people, and for which they are so often and miserably punished. +Hypocrisy in anything whatever may deceive the cleverest and most +penetrating man, but the least wide-awake of children recognizes +it, and is revolted by it, however ingeniously it may be +disguised. Whatever faults Levin had, there was not a trace of +hypocrisy in him, and so the children showed him the same +friendliness that they saw in their mother's face. On his +invitation, the two elder ones at once jumped out to him and ran +with him as simply as they would have done with their nurse or +Miss Hoole or their mother. Lily, too, began begging to go to +him, and her mother handed her to him; he sat her on his shoulder +and ran along with her. + +"Don't be afraid, don't be afraid, Darya Alexandrovna!" he said, +smiling good-humoredly to the mother; "there's no chance of my +hurting or dropping her." + +And, looking at his strong, agile, assiduously careful and +needlessly wary movements, the mother felt her mind at rest, and +smiled gaily and approvingly as she watched him. + +Here, in the country, with children, and with Darya Alexandrovna, +with whom he was in sympathy, Levin was in a mood not infrequent +with him, of childlike light-heartedness that she particularly +liked in him. As he ran with the children, he taught them +gymnastic feats, set Miss Hoole laughing with his queer English +accent, and talked to Darya Alexandrovna of his pursuits in the +country. + +After dinner, Darya Alexandrovna, sitting alone with him on the +balcony, began to speak of Kitty. + +"You know, Kitty's coming here, and is going to spend the summer +with me." + +"Really," he said, flushing, and at once, to change the +conversation, he said: "Then I'll send you two cows, shall I? If +you insist on a bill you shall pay me five roubles a month; but +it's really too bad of you." + +"No, thank you. We can manage very well now." + +"Oh, well, then, I'll have a look at your cows, and if you'll +allow me, I'll give directions about their food. Everything +depends on their food." + +And Levin, to turn the conversation, explained to Darya +Alexandrovna the theory of cow-keeping, based on the principle +that the cow is simply a machine for the transformation of food +into milk, and so on. + +He talked of this, and passionately longed to hear more of Kitty, +and, at the same time, was afraid of hearing it. He dreaded the +breaking up of the inward peace he had gained with such effort. + +"Yes, but still all this has to be looked after, and who is there +to look after it?" Darya Alexandrovna responded, without +interest. + +She had by now got her household matters so satisfactorily +arranged, thanks to Marya Philimonovna, that she was disinclined +to make any change in them; besides, she had no faith in Levin's +knowledge of farming. General principles, as to the cow being a +machine for the production of milk, she looked on with suspicion. +It seemed to her that such principles could only be a hindrance +in farm management. It all seemed to her a far simpler matter: +all that was needed, as Marya Philimonovna had explained, was to +give Brindle and Whitebreast more food and drink, and not to let +the cook carry all the kitchen slops to the laundry maid's cow. +That was clear. But general propositions as to feeding on meal +and on grass were doubtful and obscure. And, what was most +important, she wanted to talk about Kitty. + + + +Chapter 10 + + +"Kitty writes to me that there's nothing she longs for so much as +quiet and solitude," Dolly said after the silence that had +followed. + +"And how is she--better?" Levin asked in agitation. + +"Thank God, she's quite well again. I never believed her lungs +were affected." + +"Oh, I'm very glad!" said Levin, and Dolly fancied she saw +something touching, helpless, in his face as he said this and +looked silently into her face. + +"Let me ask you, Konstantin Dmitrievitch," said Darya +Alexandrovna, smiling her kindly and rather mocking smile, "why +is it you are angry with Kitty?" + +"I? I'm not angry with her," said Levin. + +"Yes, you are angry. Why was it you did not come to see us nor +them when you were in Moscow?" + +"Darya Alexandrovna," he said, blushing up to the roots of his +hair, "I wonder really that with your kind heart you don't feel +this. How it is you feel no pity for me, if nothing else, when +you know..." + +"What do I know?" + +"You know I made an offer and that I was refused," said Levin, +and all the tenderness he had been feeling for Kitty a minute +before was replaced by a feeling of anger for the slight he had +suffered. + +"What makes you suppose I know?" + +"Because everybody knows it..." + +"That's just where you are mistaken; I did not know it, though +I had guessed it was so." + +"Well, now you know it." + +"All I knew was that something had happened that made her +dreadfully miserable, and that she begged me never to speak of +it. And if she would not tell me, she would certainly not speak +of it to anyone else. But what did pass between you? Tell me." + +"I have told you." + +"When was it?" + +"When I was at their house the last time." + +"Do you know that," said Darya Alexandrovna, "I am awfully, +awfully sorry for her. You suffer only from pride...." + +"Perhaps so," said Levin, "but..." + +She interrupted him. + +"But she, poor girl...I am awfully, awfully sorry for her. Now I +see it all." + +"Well, Darya Alexandrovna, you must excuse me," he said, getting +up. "Good-bye, Darya Alexandrovna, till we meet again." + +"No, wait a minute," she said, clutching him by the sleeve. +"Wait a minute, sit down." + +"Please, please, don't let us talk of this," he said, sitting +down, and at the same time feeling rise up and stir within his +heart a hope he had believed to be buried. + +"If I did not like you," she said, and tears came into her eyes; +"if I did not know you, as I do know you . . ." + +The feeling that had seemed dead revived more and more, rose up +and took possession of Levin's heart. + +"Yes, I understand it all now," said Darya Alexandrovna. "You +can't understand it; for you men, who are free and make your own +choice, it's always clear whom you love. But a girl's in a +position of suspense, with all a woman's or maiden's modesty, a +girl who sees you men from afar, who takes everything on trust,-- +a girl may have, and often has, such a feeling that she cannot +tell what to say." + +"Yes, if the heart does not speak..." + +"No, the heart does speak; but just consider: you men have views +about a girl, you come to the house, you make friends, you +criticize, you wait to see if you have found what you love, and +then, when you are sure you love her, you make an offer...." + +"Well, that's not quite it." + +"Anyway you make an offer, when your love is ripe or when the +balance has completely turned between the two you are choosing +from. But a girl is not asked. She is expected to make her +choice, and yet she cannot choose, she can only answer 'yes' or +'no.'" + +"Yes, to choose between me and Vronsky," thought Levin, and the +dead thing that had come to life within him died again, and only +weighed on his heart and set it aching. + +"Darya Alexandrovna," he said, "that's how one chooses a new +dress or some purchase or other, not love. The choice has been +made, and so much the better.... And there can be no repeating +it." + +"Ah, pride, pride!" said Darya Alexandrovna, as though despising +him for the baseness of this feeling in comparison with that +other feeling which only women know. "At the time when you made +Kitty an offer she was just in a position in which she could not +answer. She was in doubt. Doubt between you and Vronsky. Him +she was seeing every day, and you she had not seen for a long +while. Supposing she had been older...I, for instance, in her +place could have felt no doubt. I always disliked him, and so it +has turned out." + +Levin recalled Kitty's answer. She had said: "_No, that cannot +be_..." + +"Darya Alexandrovna," he said dryly, "I appreciate your +confidence in me; I believe you are making a mistake. But +whether I am right or wrong, that pride you so despise makes any +thought of Katerina Alexandrovna out of the question for me,-- +you understand, utterly out of the question." + +"I will only say one thing more: you know that I am speaking of +my sister, whom I love as I love my own children. I don't say +she cared for you, all I meant to say is that her refusal at that +moment proves nothing." + +"I don't know!" said Levin, jumping up. "If you only knew how +you are hurting me. It's just as if a child of yours were dead, +and they were to say to you: He would have been like this and +like that, and he might have lived, and how happy you would have +been in him. But he's dead, dead, dead!..." + +"How absurd you are!" said Darya Alexandrovna, looking with +mournful tenderness at Levin's excitement. "Yes, I see it all +more and more clearly," she went on musingly. "So you won't come +to see us, then, when Kitty's here?" + +"No, I shan't come. Of course I won't avoid meeting Katerina +Alexandrovna, but as far as I can, I will try to save her the +annoyance of my presence." + +"You are very, very absurd," repeated Darya Alexandrovna, looking +with tenderness into his face. "Very well then, let it be as +though we had not spoken of this. What have you come for, +Tanya?" she said in French to the little girl who had come in. + +"Where's my spade, mamma?" + +"I speak French, and you must too." + +The little girl tried to say it in French, but could not remember +the French for spade; the mother prompted her, and then told her +in French where to look for the spade. And this made a +disagreeable impression on Levin. + +Everything in Darya Alexandrovna's house and children struck him +now as by no means so charming as a little while before. "And +what does she talk French with the children for?" he thought; +"how unnatural and false it is! And the children feel it so: +Learning French and unlearning sincerity," he thought to himself, +unaware that Darya Alexandrovna had thought all that over twenty +times already, and yet, even at the cost of some loss of +sincerity, believed it necessary to teach her children French in +that way. + +"But why are you going? Do stay a little." + +Levin stayed to tea; but his good-humor had vanished, and he felt +ill at ease. + +After tea he went out into the hall to order his horses to be put +in, and, when he came back, he found Darya Alexandrovna greatly +disturbed, with a troubled face, and tears in her eyes. While +Levin had been outside, an incident had occurred which had +utterly shattered all the happiness she had been feeling that +day, and her pride in her children. Grisha and Tanya had been +fighting over a ball. Darya Alexandrovna, hearing a scream in +the nursery, ran in and saw a terrible sight. Tanya was pulling +Grisha's hair, while he, with a face hideous with rage, was +beating her with his fists wherever he could get at her. +Something snapped in Darya Alexandrovna's heart when she saw +this. It was as if darkness had swooped down upon her life; she +felt that these children of hers, that she was so proud of, were +not merely most ordinary, but positively bad, ill-bred children, +with coarse, brutal propensities--wicked children. + +She could not talk or think of anything else, and she could not +speak to Levin of her misery. + +Levin saw she was unhappy and tried to comfort her, saying that +it showed nothing bad, that all children fight; but, even as he +said it, he was thinking in his heart: "No, I won't be +artificial and talk French with my children; but my children +won't be like that. All one has to do is not spoil children, not +to distort their nature, and they'll be delightful. No, my +children won't be like that." + +He said good-bye and drove away, and she did not try to keep him. + + + +Chapter 11 + + +In the middle of July the elder of the village on Levin's +sister's estate, about fifteen miles from Pokrovskoe, came to +Levin to report on how things were going there and on the hay. +The chief source of income on his sister's estate was from the +riverside meadows. In former years the hay had been bought by +the peasants for twenty roubles the three acres. When Levin took +over the management of the estate, he thought on examining the +grasslands that they were worth more, and he fixed the price at +twenty-five roubles the three acres. The peasants would not give +that price, and, as Levin suspected, kept off other purchasers. +Then Levin had driven over himself, and arranged to have the +grass cut, partly by hired labor, partly at a payment of a +certain proportion of the crop. His own peasants put every +hindrance they could in the way of this new arrangement, but it +was carried out, and the first year the meadows had yielded a +profit almost double. The previous year--which was the third +year--the peasants had maintained the same opposition to the +arrangement, and the hay had been cut on the same system. This +year the peasants were doing all the mowing for a third of the +hay crop, and the village elder had come now to announce that the +hay had been cut, and that, fearing rain, they had invited the +counting-house clerk over, had divided the crop in his presence, +and had raked together eleven stacks as the owner's share. From +the vague answers to his question how much hay had been cut on +the principal meadow, from the hurry of the village elder who had +made the division, not asking leave, from the whole tone of the +peasant, Levin perceived that there was something wrong in the +division of the hay, and made up his mind to drive over himself +to look into the matter. + +Arriving for dinner at the village, and leaving his horse at the +cottage of an old friend of his, the husband of his brother's +wet-nurse, Levin went to see the old man in his bee-house, +wanting to find out from him the truth about the hay. +Parmenitch, a talkative, comely old man, gave Levin a very warm +welcome, showed him all he was doing, told him everything about +his bees and the swarms of that year; but gave vague and +unwilling answers to Levin's inquiries about the mowing. This +confirmed Levin still more in his suspicions. He went to the +hay fields and examined the stacks. The haystacks could not +possibly contain fifty wagon-loads each, and to convict the +peasants Levin ordered the wagons that had carried the hay to be +brought up directly, to lift one stack, and carry it into the +barn. There turned out to be only thirty-two loads in the stack. +In spite of the village elder's assertions about the +compressibility of hay, and its having settled down in the +stacks, and his swearing that everything had been done in the +fear of God, Levin stuck to his point that the hay had been +divided without his orders, and that, therefore, he would not +accept that hay as fifty loads to a stack. After a prolonged +dispute the matter was decided by the peasants taking these +eleven stacks, reckoning them as fifty loads each. The arguments +and the division of the haycocks lasted the whole afternoon. +When the last of the hay had been divided, Levin, intrusting the +superintendence of the rest to the counting-house clerk, sat down +on a haycock marked off by a stake of willow, and looked +admiringly at the meadow swarming with peasants. + +In front of him, in the bend of the river beyond the marsh, moved +a bright-colored line of peasant women, and the scattered hay was +being rapidly formed into gray winding rows over the pale green +stubble. After the women came the men with pitchforks, and from +the gray rows there were growing up broad, high, soft haycocks. +To the left, carts were rumbling over the meadow that had been +already cleared, and one after another the haycocks vanished, +flung up in huge forkfuls, and in their place there were rising +heavy cartloads of fragrant hay hanging over the horses' +hind-quarters. + +"What weather for haying! What hay it'll be!" said an old man, +squatting down beside Levin. "It's tea, not hay! It's like +scattering grain to the ducks, the way they pick it up!" he +added, pointing to the growing haycocks. "Since dinnertime +they've carried a good half of it." + +"The last load, eh?" he shouted to a young peasant, who drove by, +standing in the front of an empty cart, shaking the cord reins. + +"The last, dad!" the lad shouted back, pulling in the horse, and, +smiling, he looked round at a bright, rosy-checked peasant girl +who sat in the cart smiling too, and drove on. + +"Who's that? Your son?" asked Levin. + +"My baby," said the old man with a tender smile. + +"What a fine fellow!" + +"The lad's all right." + +"Married already?" + +"Yes, it's two years last St. Philip's day." + +"Any children?" + +"Children indeed! Why, for over a year he was innocent as a babe +himself, and bashful too," answered the old man. "Well, the hay! +It's as fragrant as tea!" he repeated, wishing to change the +subject. + +Levin looked more attentively at Ivan Parmenov and his wife. +They were loading a haycock onto the cart not far from him. Ivan +Parmenov was standing on the cart, taking, laying in place, and +stamping down the huge bundles of hay, which his pretty young +wife deftly handed up to him, at first in armfuls, and then on +the pitchfork. The young wife worked easily, merrily, and +dexterously. The close-packed hay did not once break away off +her fork. First she gathered it together, stuck the fork into +it, then with a rapid, supple movement leaned the whole weight of +her body on it, and at once with a bend of her back under the red +belt she drew herself up, and arching her full bosom under the +white smock, with a smart turn swung the fork in her arms, and +flung the bundle of hay high onto the cart. Ivan, obviously +doing his best to save her every minute of unnecessary labor, +made haste, opening his arms to clutch the bundle and lay it in +the cart. As she raked together what was left of the hay, the +young wife shook off the bits of hay that had fallen on her neck, +and straightening the red kerchief that had dropped forward over +her white brow, not browned like her face by the sun, she crept +under the cart to tie up the load. Ivan directed her how to +fasten the cord to the cross-piece, and at something she said he +laughed aloud. In the expressions of both faces was to be seen +vigorous, young, freshly awakened love. + + + +Chapter 12 + + +The load was tied on. Ivan jumped down and took the quiet, sleek +horse by the bridle. The young wife flung the rake up on the +load, and with a bold step, swinging her arms, she went to join +the women, who were forming a ring for the haymakers' dance. +Ivan drove off to the road and fell into line with the other +loaded carts. The peasant women, with their rakes on their +shoulders, gay with bright flowers, and chattering with ringing, +merry voices, walked behind the hay cart. One wild untrained +female voice broke into a song, and sang it alone through a +verse, and then the same verse was taken up and repeated by half +a hundred strong healthy voices, of all sorts, coarse and fine, +singing in unison. + +The women, all singing, began to come close to Levin, and he felt +as though a storm were swooping down upon him with a thunder of +merriment. The storm swooped down, enveloped him and the haycock +on which he was lying, and the other haycocks, and the +wagon-loads, and the whole meadow and distant fields all seemed +to be shaking and singing to the measures of this wild merry song +with its shouts and whistles and clapping. Levin felt envious of +this health and mirthfulness; he longed to take part in the +expression of this joy of life. But he could do nothing, and had +to lie and look on and listen. When the peasants, with their +singing, had vanished out of sight and hearing, a weary feeling +of despondency at his own isolation, his physical inactivity, his +alienation from this world, came over Levin. + +Some of the very peasants who had been most active in wrangling +with him over the hay, some whom he had treated with contumely, +and who had tried to cheat him, those very peasants had greeted +him goodhumoredly, and evidently had not, were incapable of +having any feeling of rancor against him, any regret, any +recollection even of having tried to deceive him. All that was +drowned in a sea of merry common labor. God gave the day, God +gave the strength. And the day and the strength were consecrated +to labor, and that labor was its own reward. For whom the labor? +What would be its fruits? These were idle considerations-- +beside the point. + +Often Levin had admired this life, often he had a sense of envy +of the men who led this life; but today for the first time, +especially under the influence of what he had seen in the +attitude of Ivan Parmenov to his young wife, the idea presented +itself definitely to his mind that it was in his power to +exchange the dreary, artificial, idle, and individualistic life +he was leading for this laborious, pure, and socially delightful +life. + +The old man who had been sitting beside him had long ago gone +home; the people had all separated. Those who lived near had +gone home, while those who came from far were gathered into a +group for supper, and to spend the night in the meadow. Levin, +unobserved by the peasants, still lay on the haycock, and still +looked on and listened and mused. The peasants who remained for +the night in the meadow scarcely slept all the short summer +night. At first there was the sound of merry talk and laughing +all together over the supper, then singing again and laughter. + +All the long day of toil had left no trace in them but lightness +of heart. Before the early dawn all was hushed. Nothing was to +be heard but the night sounds of the frogs that never ceased in +the marsh, and the horses snorting in the mist that rose over the +meadow before the morning. Rousing himself, Levin got up from +the haycock, and looking at the stars, he saw that the night was +over. + +"Well, what am I going to do? How am I to set about it?" he +said to himself, trying to express to himself all the thoughts +and feelings he had passed through in that brief night. All the +thoughts and feelings he had passed through fell into three +separate trains of thought. One was the renunciation of his old +life, of his utterly useless education. This renunciation gave +him satisfaction, and was easy and simple. Another series of +thoughts and mental images related to the life he longed to live +now. The simplicity, the purity, the sanity of this life he felt +clearly, and he was convinced he would find in it the content, +the peace, and the dignity, of the lack of which he was so +miserably conscious. But a third series of ideas turned upon the +question how to effect this transition from the old life to the +new. And there nothing took clear shape for him. "Have a wife? +Have work and the necessity of work? Leave Pokrovskoe? Buy +land? Become a member of a peasant community? Marry a peasant +girl? How am I to set about it?" he asked himself again, and +could not find an answer. "I haven't slept all night, though, +and I can't think it out clearly," he said to himself. "I'll +work it out later. One thing's certain, this night has decided +my fate. All my old dreams of home life were absurd, not the +real thing," he told himself. "It's all ever so much simpler and +better..." + +"How beautiful!" he thought, looking at the strange, as it were, +mother-of-pearl shell of white fleecy cloudlets resting right +over his head in the middle of the sky. "How exquisite it all is +in this exquisite night! And when was there time for that +cloud-shell to form? Just now I looked at the sky, and there was +nothing in it--only two white streaks. Yes, and so +imperceptibly too my views of life changed!" + +He went out of the meadow and walked along the highroad towards +the village. A slight wind arose, and the sky looked gray and +sullen. The gloomy moment had come that usually precedes the +dawn, the full triumph of light over darkness. + +Shrinking from the cold, Levin walked rapidly, looking at the +ground. "What's that? Someone coming," he thought, catching the +tinkle of bells, and lifting his head. Forty paces from him a +carriage with four horses harnessed abreast was driving towards +him along the grassy road on which he was walking. The +shaft-horses were tilted against the shafts by the ruts, but the +dexterous driver sitting on the box held the shaft over the ruts, +so that the wheels ran on the smooth part of the road. + +This was all Levin noticed, and without wondering who it could +be, he gazed absently at the coach. + +In the coach was an old lady dozing in one corner, and at the +window, evidently only just awake, sat a young girl holding in +both hands the ribbons of a white cap. With a face full of light +and thought, full of a subtle, complex inner life, that was +remote from Levin, she was gazing beyond him at the glow of the +sunrise. + +At the very instant when this apparition was vanishing, the +truthful eyes glanced at him. She recognized him, and her face +lighted up with wondering delight. + +He could not be mistaken. There were no other eyes like those in +the world. There was only one creature in the world that could +concentrate for him all the brightness and meaning of life. It +was she. It was Kitty. He understood that she was driving to +Ergushovo from the railway station. And everything that had been +stirring Levin during that sleepless night, all the resolutions +he had made, all vanished at once. He recalled with horror his +dreams of marrying a peasant girl. There only, in the carriage +that had crossed over to the other side of the road, and was +rapidly disappearing, there only could he find the solution of +the riddle of his life, which had weighed so agonizingly upon him +of late. + +She did not look out again. The sound of the carriage-springs +was no longer audible, the bells could scarcely be heard. The +barking of dogs showed the carriage had reached the village, and +all that was left was the empty fields all round, the village in +front, and he himself isolated and apart from it all, wandering +lonely along the deserted highroad. + +He glanced at the sky, expecting to find there the cloud shell he +had been admiring and taking as the symbol of the ideas and +feelings of that night. There was nothing in the sky in the +least like a shell. There, in the remote heights above, a +mysterious change had been accomplished. There was no trace of +shell, and there was stretched over fully half the sky an even +cover of tiny and ever tinier cloudlets. The sky had grown blue +and bright; and with the same softness, but with the same +remoteness, it met his questioning gaze. + +"No," he said to himself, "however good that life of simplicity +and toil may be, I cannot go back to it. I love _her_." + + + +Chapter 13 + + +None but those who were most intimate with Alexey Alexandrovitch +knew that, while on the surface the coldest and most reasonable +of men, he had one weakness quite opposed to the general trend of +his character. Alexey Alexandrovitch could not hear or see a +child or woman crying without being moved. The sight of tears +threw him into a state of nervous agitation, and he utterly lost +all power of reflection. The chief secretary of his department +and his private secretary were aware of this, and used to warn +women who came with petitions on no account to give way to tears, +if they did not want to ruin their chances. "He will get angry, +and will not listen to you," they used to say. And as a fact, in +such cases the emotional disturbance set up in Alexey +Alexandrovitch by the sight of tears found expression in hasty +anger. "I can do nothing. Kindly leave the room!" he would +commonly cry in such cases. + +When returning from the races Anna had informed him of her +relations with Vronsky, and immediately afterwards had burst into +tears, hiding her face in her hands, Alexey Alexandrovitch, for +all the fury aroused in him against her, was aware at the same +time of a rush of that emotional disturbance always produced in +him by tears. Conscious of it, and conscious that any expression +of his feelings at that minute would be out of keeping with the +position, he tried to suppress every manifestation of life in +himself, and so neither stirred nor looked at her. This was what +had caused that strange expression of deathlike rigidity in his +face which had so impressed Anna. + +When they reached the house he helped her to get out of the +carriage, and making an effort to master himself, took leave of +her with his usual urbanity, and uttered that phrase that bound +him to nothing; he said that tomorrow he would let her know his +decision. + +His wife's words, confirming his worst suspicions, had sent a +cruel pang to the heart of Alexey Alexandrovitch. That pang was +intensified by the strange feeling of physical pity for her set +up by her tears. But when he was all alone in the carriage +Alexey Alexandrovitch, to his surprise and delight, felt complete +relief both from this pity and from the doubts and agonies of +jealousy. + +He experienced the sensations of a man who has had a tooth out +after suffering long from toothache. After a fearful agony and a +sense of something huge, bigger than the head itself, being torn +out of his jaw, the sufferer, hardly able to believe in his own +good luck, feels all at once that what has so long poisoned his +existence and enchained his attention, exists no longer, and that +he can live and think again, and take interest in other things +besides his tooth. This feeling Alexey Alexandrovitch was +experiencing. The agony had been strange and terrible, but now +it was over; he felt that he could live again and think of +something other than his wife. + +"No honor, no heart, no religion; a corrupt woman. I always +knew it and always saw it, though I tried to deceive myself to +spare her," he said to himself. And it actually seemed to him +that he always had seen it: he recalled incidents of their past +life, in which he had never seen anything wrong before--now +these incidents proved clearly that she had always been a corrupt +woman. "I made a mistake in linking my life to hers; but there +was nothing wrong in my mistake, and so I cannot be unhappy. +It's not I that am to blame," he told himself, "but she. But I +have nothing to do with her. She does not exist for me..." + +Everything relating to her and her son, towards whom his +sentiments were as much changed as towards her, ceased to +interest him. The only thing that interested him now was the +question of in what way he could best, with most propriety and +comfort for himself, and thus with most justice, extricate +himself from the mud with which she had spattered him in her +fall, and then proceed along his path of active, honorable, and +useful existence. + +"I cannot be made unhappy by the fact that a contemptible woman +has committed a crime. I have only to find the best way out of +the difficult position in which she has placed me. And I shall +find it," he said to himself, frowning more and more. "I'm not +the first nor the last." And to say nothing of historical +instances dating from the "Fair Helen" of Menelaus, recently +revived in the memory of all, a whole list of contemporary +examples of husbands with unfaithful wives in the highest society +rose before Alexey Alexandrovitch's imagination. "Daryalov, +Poltavsky, Prince Karibanov, Count Paskudin, Dram.... Yes, even +Dram, such an honest, capable fellow...Semyonov, Tchagin, +Sigonin," Alexey Alexandrovitch remembered. "Admitting that a +certain quite irrational _ridicule_ falls to the lot of these men, +yet I never saw anything but a misfortune in it, and always felt +sympathy for it," Alexey Alexandrovitch said to himself, though +indeed this was not the fact, and he had never felt sympathy for +misfortunes of that kind, but the more frequently he had heard of +instances of unfaithful wives betraying their husbands, the more +highly he had thought of himself. "It is a misfortune which may +befall anyone. And this misfortune has befallen me. The only +thing to be done is to make the best of the position." + +And he began passing in review the methods of proceeding of men +who had been in the same position that he was in. + +"Daryalov fought a duel...." + +The duel had particularly fascinated the thoughts of Alexey +Alexandrovitch in his youth, just because he was physically a +coward, and was himself well aware of the fact. Alexey +Alexandrovitch could not without horror contemplate the idea of a +pistol aimed at himself, and had never made use of any weapon in his +life. This horror had in his youth set him pondering on dueling, +and picturing himself in a position in which he would have to +expose his life to danger. Having attained success and an +established position in the world, he had long ago forgotten this +feeling; but the habitual bent of feeling reasserted itself, and +dread of his own cowardice proved even now so strong that Alexey +Alexandrovitch spent a long while thinking over the question of +dueling in all its aspects, and hugging the idea of a duel, +though he was fully aware beforehand that he would never under +any circumstances fight one. + +"There's no doubt our society is still so barbarous (it's not the +same in England) that very many"--and among these were those +whose opinion Alexey Alexandrovitch particularly valued--"look +favorably on the duel; but what result is attained by it? Suppose +I call him out," Alexey Alexandrovitch went on to himself, and +vividly picturing the night he would spend after the challenge, +and the pistol aimed at him, he shuddered, and knew that he never +would do it--"suppose I call him out. Suppose I am taught," he +went on musing, "to shoot; I press the trigger," he said to +himself, closing his eyes, "and it turns out I have killed him," +Alexey Alexandrovitch said to himself, and he shook his head as +though to dispel such silly ideas. "What sense is there in +murdering a man in order to define one's relation to a guilty +wife and son? I should still just as much have to decide what I +ought to do with her. But what is more probable and what would +doubtless occur--I should be killed or wounded. I, the +innocent person, should be the victim--killed or wounded. It's +even more senseless. But apart from that, a challenge to fight +would be an act hardly honest on my side. Don't I know perfectly +well that my friends would never allow me to fight a duel--would +never allow the life of a statesman, needed by Russia, to be +exposed to danger? Knowing perfectly well beforehand that the +matter would never come to real danger, it would amount to my +simply trying to gain a certain sham reputation by such a +challenge. That would be dishonest, that would be false, that +would be deceiving myself and others. A duel is quite +irrational, and no one expects it of me. My aim is simply to +safeguard my reputation, which is essential for the uninterrupted +pursuit of my public duties." Official duties, which had always +been of great consequence in Alexey Alexandrovitch's eyes, seemed +of special importance to his mind at this moment. Considering +and rejecting the duel, Alexey Alexandrovitch turned to +divorce--another solution selected by several of the husbands he +remembered. Passing in mental review all the instances he knew +of divorces (there were plenty of them in the very highest +society with which he was very familiar), Alexey Alexandrovitch +could not find a single example in which the object of divorce +was that which he had in view. In all these instances the +husband had practically ceded or sold his unfaithful wife, and +the very party which, being in fault, had not the right to +contract a fresh marriage, had formed counterfeit, +pseudo-matrimonial ties with a self-styled husband. In his own +case, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that a legal divorce, that is to +say, one in which only the guilty wife would be repudiated, was +impossible of attainment. He saw that the complex conditions of +the life they led made the coarse proofs of his wife's guilt, +required by the law, out of the question; he saw that a certain +refinement in that life would not admit of such proofs being +brought forward, even if he had them, and that to bring forward +such proofs would damage him in the public estimation more than +it would her. + +An attempt at divorce could lead to nothing but a public scandal, +which would be a perfect godsend to his enemies for calumny and +attacks on his high position in society. His chief object, to +define the position with the least amount of disturbance +possible, would not be attained by divorce either. Moreover, in +the event of divorce, or even of an attempt to obtain a divorce, +it was obvious that the wife broke off all relations with the +husband and threw in her lot with the lover. And in spite of the +complete, as he supposed, contempt and indifference he now felt +for his wife, at the bottom of his heart Alexey Alexandrovitch +still had one feeling left in regard to her--a disinclination to +see her free to throw in her lot with Vronsky, so that her crime +would be to her advantage. The mere notion of this so +exasperated Alexey Alexandrovitch, that directly it rose to his +mind he groaned with inward agony, and got up and changed his +place in the carriage, and for a long while after, he sat with +scowling brows, wrapping his numbed and bony legs in the fleecy +rug. + +"Apart from formal divorce, One might still do like Karibanov, +Paskudin, and that good fellow Dram--that is, separate from +one's wife," he went on thinking, when he had regained his +composure. But this step too presented the same drawback of +public scandal as a divorce, and what was more, a separation, +quite as much as a regular divorce, flung his wife into the arms +of Vronsky. "No, it's out of the question, out of the question!" +he said again, twisting his rug about him again. "I cannot be +unhappy, but neither she nor he ought to be happy." + +The feeling of jealousy, which had tortured him during the period +of uncertainty, had passed away at the instant when the tooth had +been with agony extracted by his wife's words. But that feeling +had been replaced by another, the desire, not merely that she +should not be triumphant, but that she should get due punishment +for her crime. He did not acknowledge this feeling, but at the +bottom of his heart he longed for her to suffer for having +destroyed his peace of mind--his honor. And going once again +over the conditions inseparable from a duel, a divorce, a +separation, and once again rejecting them, Alexey Alexandrovitch +felt convinced that there was only one solution,--to keep her +with him, concealing what had happened from the world, and using +every measure in his power to break off the intrigue, and still +more--though this he did not admit to himself--to punish her. +"I must inform her of my conclusion, that thinking over the +terrible position in which she has placed her family, all other +solutions will be worse for both sides than an external _status +quo_, and that such I agree to retain, on the strict condition of +obedience on her part to my wishes, that is to say, cessation of +all intercourse with her lover." When this decision had been +finally adopted, another weighty consideration occurred to Alexey +Alexandrovitch in support of it. "By such a course only shall I +be acting in accordance with the dictates of religion," he told +himself. "In adopting this course, I am not casting off a +guilty wife, but giving her a chance of amendment; and, indeed, +difficult as the task will be to me, I shall devote part of my +energies to her reformation and salvation." + +Though Alexey Alexandrovitch was perfectly aware that he could +not exert any moral influence over his wife, that such an attempt +at reformation could lead to nothing but falsity; though in +passing through these difficult moments he had not once thought +of seeking guidance in religion, yet now, when his conclusion +corresponded, as it seemed to him, with the requirements of +religion, this religious sanction to his decision gave him +complete satisfaction, and to some extent restored his peace of +mind. He was pleased to think that, even in such an important +crisis in life, no one would be able to say that he had not acted +in accordance with the principles of that religion whose banner +he had always held aloft amid the general coolness and +indifference. As he pondered over subsequent developments, +Alexey Alexandrovitch did not see, indeed, why his relations with +his wife should not remain practically the same as before. No +doubt, she could never regain his esteem, but there was not, and +there could not be, any sort of reason that his existence should +be troubled, and that he should suffer because she was a bad and +faithless wife. "Yes, time will pass; time, which arranges all +things, and the old relations will be reestablished," Alexey +Alexandrovitch told himself; "so far reestablished, that is, that +I shall not be sensible of a break in the continuity of my life. +She is bound to be unhappy, but I am not to blame, and so I +cannot be unhappy." + + + +Chapter 14 + + +As he neared Petersburg, Alexey Alexandrovitch not only adhered +entirely to his decision, but was even composing in his head the +letter he would write to his wife. Going into the porter's room, +Alexey Alexandrovitch glanced at the letters and papers brought +from his office, and directed that they should be brought to him +in his study. + +"The horses can be taken out and I will see no one," he said in +answer to the porter, with a certain pleasure, indicative of his +agreeable frame of mind, emphasizing the words, "see no one." + +In his study Alexey Alexandrovitch walked up and down twice, and +stopped at an immense writing-table, on which six candles had +already been lighted by the valet who had preceded him. He +cracked his knuckles and sat down, sorting out his writing +appurtenances. Putting his elbows on the table, he bent his head +on one side, thought a minute, and began to write, without +pausing for a second. He wrote without using any form of address +to her, and wrote in French, making use of the plural "_vous_," +which has not the same note of coldness as the corresponding +Russian form. + +"At our last conversation, I notified you of my intention to +communicate to you my decision in regard to the subject of that +conversation. Having carefully considered everything, I am +writing now with the object of fulfilling that promise. My +decision is as follows. Whatever your conduct may have been, I +do not consider myself justified in breaking the ties in which we +are bound by a Higher Power. The family cannot be broken up by a +whim, a caprice, or even by the sin of one of the partners in the +marriage, and our life must go on as it has done in the past. +This is essential for me, for you, and for our son. I am fully +persuaded that you have repented and do repent of what has called +forth the present letter, and that you will cooperate with me in +eradicating the cause of our estrangement, and forgetting the +past. In the contrary event, you can conjecture what awaits you +and your son. All this I hope to discuss more in detail in a +personal interview. As the season is drawing to a close, I +would beg you to return to Petersburg as quickly as possible, not +later than Tuesday. All necessary preparations shall be made for +your arrival here. I beg you to note that I attach particular +significance to compliance with this request. + +A. Karenin + +"P.S.--I enclose the money which may be needed for your +expenses." + +He read the letter through and felt pleased with it, and +especially that he had remembered to enclose money: there was +not a harsh word, not a reproach in it, nor was there undue +indulgence. Most of all, it was a golden bridge for return. +Folding the letter and smoothing it with a massive ivory knife, +and putting it in an envelope with the money, he rang the bell +with the gratification it always afforded him to use the +well arranged appointments of his writing-table. + +"Give this to the courier to be delivered to Anna Arkadyevna +tomorrow at the summer villa," he said, getting up. + +"Certainly, your excellency; tea to be served in the study?" + +Alexey Alexandrovitch ordered tea to be brought to the study, and +playing with the massive paper-knife, he moved to his easy chair, +near which there had been placed ready for him a lamp and the +French work on Egyptian hieroglyphics that he had begun. Over +the easy chair there hung in a gold frame an oval portrait of +Anna, a fine painting by a celebrated artist. Alexey +Alexandrovitch glanced at it. The unfathomable eyes gazed +ironically and insolently at him. Insufferably insolent and +challenging was the effect in Alexey Alexandrovitch's eyes of the +black lace about the head, admirably touched in by the painter, +the black hair and handsome white hand with one finger lifted, +covered with rings. After looking at the portrait for a minute, +Alexey Alexandrovitch shuddered so that his lips quivered and he +uttered the sound "brrr," and turned away. He made haste to sit +down in his easy chair and opened the book. He tried to read, +but he could not revive the very vivid interest he had felt +before in Egyptian hieroglyphics. He looked at the book and +thought of something else. He thought not of his wife, but of a +complication that had arisen in his official life, which at the +time constituted the chief interest of it. He felt that he had +penetrated more deeply than ever before into this intricate +affair, and that he had originated a leading idea--he could say +it without self-flattery--calculated to clear up the whole +business, to strengthen him in his official career, to discomfit +his enemies, and thereby to be of the greatest benefit to the +government. Directly the servant had set the tea and left the +room, Alexey Alexandrovitch got up and went to the writing-table. +Moving into the middle of the table a portfolio of papers, with a +scarcely perceptible smile of self-satisfaction, he took a pencil +from a rack and plunged into the perusal of a complex report +relating to the present complication. The complication was of +this nature: Alexey Alexandrovitch's characteristic quality as a +politician, that special individual qualification that every +rising functionary possesses, the qualification that with his +unflagging ambition, his reserve, his honesty, and with his +self-confidence had made his career, was his contempt for red +tape, his cutting down of correspondence, his direct contact, +wherever possible, with the living fact, and his economy. It +happened that the famous Commission of the 2nd of June had set on +foot an inquiry into the irrigation of lands in the Zaraisky +province, which fell under Alexey Alexandrovitch's department, +and was a glaring example of fruitless expenditure and paper +reforms. Alexey Alexandrovitch was aware of the truth of this. +The irrigation of these lands in the Zaraisky province had been +initiated by the predecessor of Alexey Alexandrovitch's +predecessor. And vast sums of money had actually been spent and +were still being spent on this business, and utterly +unproductively, and the whole business could obviously lead to +nothing whatever. Alexey Alexandrovitch had perceived this at +once on entering office, and would have liked to lay hands on the +Board of Irrigation. But at first, when he did not yet feel +secure in his position, he knew it would affect too many +interests, and would be injudicious. Later on he had been +engrossed in other questions, and had simply forgotten the Board +of Irrigation. It went of itself, like all such boards, by the +mere force of inertia. (Many people gained their livelihood by +the Board of Irrigation, especially one highly conscientious and +musical family: all the daughters played on stringed instruments, +and Alexey Alexandrovitch knew the family and had stood godfather +to one of the elder daughters.) The raising of this question by a +hostile department was in Alexey Alexandrovitch's opinion a +dishonorable proceeding, seeing that in every department there +were things similar and worse, which no one inquired into, for +well-known reasons of official etiquette. However, now that the +glove had been thrown down to him, he had boldly picked it up and +demanded the appointment of a special commission to investigate +and verify the working of the Board of Irrigation of the lands in +the Zaraisky province. But in compensation he gave no quarter to +the enemy either. He demanded the appointment of another special +commission to inquire into the question of the Native Tribes +Organization Committee. The question of the Native Tribes had +been brought up incidentally in the Commission of the 2nd of +June, and had been pressed forward actively by Alexey +Alexandrovitch as one admitting of no delay on account of the +deplorable condition of the native tribes. In the commission +this question had been a ground of contention between several +departments. The department hostile to Alexey Alexandrovitch +proved that the condition of the native tribes was exceedingly +flourishing, that the proposed reconstruction might be the ruin +of their prosperity, and that if there were anything wrong, it +arose mainly from the failure on the part of Alexey +Alexandrovitch's department to carry out the measures prescribed +by law. Now Alexey Alexandrovitch intended to demand: First, +that a new commission should be formed which should be empowered +to investigate the condition of the native tribes on the spot; +secondly, if it should appear that the condition of the native +tribes actually was such as it appeared to be from the official +documents in the hands of the committee, that another new +scientific commission should be appointed to investigate the +deplorable condition of the native tribes from the--(1) +political, (2) administrative, (3) economic, (4) ethnographical, +(5) material, and (6) religious points of view; thirdly, that +evidence should be required from the rival department of the +measures that had been taken during the last ten years by that +department for averting the disastrous conditions in which the +native tribes were now placed; and fourthly and finally, that +that department explain why it had, as appeared from the evidence +before the committee, from No. 17,015 and 18,038, from December +5, 1863, and June 7, 1864, acted in direct contravention of the +intent of the law T...Act 18, and the note to Act 36. A flash +of eagerness suffused the face of Alexey Alexandrovitch as he +rapidly wrote out a synopsis of these ideas for his own benefit. +Having filled a sheet of paper, he got up, rang, and sent a note +to the chief secretary of his department to look up certain +necessary facts for him. Getting up and walking about the room, +he glanced again at the portrait, frowned, and smiled +contemptuously. After reading a little more of the book on +Egyptian hieroglyphics, and renewing his interest in it, Alexey +Alexandrovitch went to bed at eleven o'clock, and recollecting as +he lay in bed the incident with his wife, he saw it now in by no +means such a gloomy light. + + + +Chapter 15 + + +Though Anna had obstinately and with exasperation contradicted +Vronsky when he told her their position was impossible, at the +bottom of her heart she regarded her own position as false and +dishonorable, and she longed with her whole soul to change it. +On the way home from the races she had told her husband the truth +in a moment of excitement, and in spite of the agony she had +suffered in doing so, she was glad of it. After her husband had +left her, she told herself that she was glad, that now everything +was made clear, and at least there would be no more lying and +deception. It seemed to her beyond doubt that her position was +now made clear forever. It might be bad, this new position, but +it would be clear; there would be no indefiniteness or falsehood +about it. The pain she had caused herself and her husband in +uttering those words would be rewarded now by everything being +made clear, she thought. That evening she saw Vronsky, but she +did not tell him of what had passed between her and her husband, +though, to make the position definite, it was necessary to tell +him. + +When she woke up next morning the first thing that rose to her +mind was what she had said to her husband, and those words seemed +to her so awful that she could not conceive now how she could +have brought herself to utter those strange, coarse words, and +could not imagine what would come of it. But the words were +spoken, and Alexey Alexandrovitch had gone away without saying +anything. "I saw Vronsky and did not tell him. At the very +instant he was going away I would have turned him back and told +him, but I changed my mind, because it was strange that I had +not told him the first minute. Why was it I wanted to tell him +and did not tell him?" And in answer to this question a burning +blush of shame spread over her face. She knew what had kept her +from it, she knew that she had been ashamed. Her position, which +had seemed to her simplified the night before, suddenly struck +her now as not only not simple, but as absolutely hopeless. She +felt terrified at the disgrace, of which she had not ever thought +before. Directly she thought of what her husband would do, the +most terrible ideas came to her mind. She had a vision of being +turned out of the house, of her shame being proclaimed to all the +world. She asked herself where she should go when she was turned +out of the house, and she could not find an answer. + +When she thought of Vronsky, it seemed to her that he did not +love her, that he was already beginning to be tired of her, that +she could not offer herself to him, and she felt bitter against +him for it. It seemed to her that the words that she had spoken +to her husband, and had continually repeated in her imagination, +she had said to everyone, and everyone had heard them. She could +not bring herself to look those of her own household in the face. +She could not bring herself to call her maid, and still less go +downstairs and see her son and his governess. + +The maid, who had been listening at her door for a long while, +came into her room of her own accord. Anna glanced inquiringly +into her face, and blushed with a scared look. The maid begged +her pardon for coming in, saying that she had fancied the bell +rang. She brought her clothes and a note. The note was from +Betsy. Betsy reminded her that Liza Merkalova and Baroness +Shtoltz were coming to play croquet with her that morning with +their adorers, Kaluzhsky and old Stremov. "Come, if only as a +study in morals. I shall expect you," she finished. + +Anna read the note and heaved a deep sigh. + +"Nothing, I need nothing," she said to Annushka, who was +rearranging the bottles and brushes on the dressing table. "You +can go. I'll dress at once and come down. I need nothing." + +Annushka went out, but Anna did not begin dressing, and sat in +the same position, her head and hands hanging listlessly, and +every now and then she shivered all over, seemed as though she +would make some gesture, utter some word, and sank back into +lifelessness again. She repeated continually, "My God! my God!" +But neither "God" nor "my" had any meaning to her. The idea of +seeking help in her difficulty in religion was as remote from her +as seeking help from Alexey Alexandrovitch himself, although she +had never had doubts of the faith in which she had been brought +up. She knew that the support of religion was possible only upon +condition of renouncing what made up for her the whole meaning of +life. She was not simply miserable, she began to feel alarm at +the new spiritual condition, never experienced before, in which +she found herself. She felt as though everything were beginning +to be double in her soul, just as objects sometimes appear double +to over-tired eyes. She hardly knew at times what it was she +feared, and what she hoped for. Whether she feared or desired +what had happened, or what was going to happen, and exactly what +she longed for, she could not have said. + +"Ah, what am I doing!" she said to herself, feeling a sudden +thrill of pain in both sides of her head. When she came to +herself, she saw that she was holding her hair in both hands, +each side of her temples, and pulling it. She jumped up, and +began walking about. + +"The coffee is ready, and mademoiselle and Seryozha are waiting," +said Annushka, coming back again and finding Anna in the same +position. + +"Seryozha? What about Seryozha?" Anna asked, with sudden +eagerness, recollecting her son's existence for the first time +that morning. + +"He's been naughty, I think," answered Annushka with a smile. + +"In what way?" + +"Some peaches were lying on the table in the corner room. I +think he slipped in and ate one of them on the sly." + +The recollection of her son suddenly roused Anna from the +helpless condition in which she found herself. She recalled the +partly sincere, though greatly exaggerated, role of the mother +living for her child, which she had taken up of late years, and +she felt with joy that in the plight in which she found herself +she had a support, quite apart from her relation to her husband +or to Vronsky. This support was her son. In whatever position +she might be placed, she could not lose her son. Her husband +might put her to shame and turn her out, Vronsky might grow cold +to her and go on living his own life apart (she thought of him +again with bitterness and reproach); she could not leave her son. +She had an aim in life. And she must act; act to secure this +relation to her son, so that he might not be taken from her. +Quickly indeed, as quickly as possible, she must take action +before he was taken from her. She must take her son and go away. +Here was the one thing she had to do now. She needed +consolation. She must be calm, and get out of this insufferable +position. The thought of immediate action binding her to her +son, of going away somewhere with him, gave her this consolation. + +She dressed quickly, went downstairs, and with resolute steps +walked into the drawing room, where she found, as usual, waiting +for her, the coffee, Seryozha, and his governess. Seryozha, all +in white, with his back and head bent, was standing at a table +under a looking-glass, and with an expression of intense +concentration which she knew well, and in which he resembled his +father, he was doing something to the flowers he carried. + +The governess had a particularly severe expression. Seryozha +screamed shrilly, as he often did, "Ah, mamma!" and stopped, +hesitating whether to go to greet his mother and put down the +flowers, or to finish making the wreath and go with the flowers. + +The governess, after saying good-morning, began a long and +detailed account of Seryozha's naughtiness, but Anna did not hear +her; she was considering whether she would take her with her or +not. "No, I won't take her," she decided. "I'll go alone with +my child." + +"Yes, it's very wrong," said Anna, and taking her son by the +shoulder she looked at him, not severely, but with a timid glance +that bewildered and delighted the boy, and she kissed him. +"Leave him to me," she said to the astonished governess, and not +letting go of her son, she sat down at the table, where coffee +was set ready for her. + +"Mamma! I...I...didn't..." he said, trying to make out from her +expression what was in store for him in regard to the peaches. + +"Seryozha," she said, as soon as the governess had left the room, +"that was wrong, but you'll never do it again, will you?... You +love me?" + +She felt that the tears were coming into her eyes. "Can I help +loving him?" she said to herself, looking deeply into his scared +and at the same time delighted eyes. "And can he ever join his +father in punishing me? Is it possible he will not feel for me?" +Tears were already flowing down her face, and to hide them she +got up abruptly and almost ran out on to the terrace. + +After the thunder showers of the last few days, cold, bright +weather had set in. The air was cold in the bright sun that +filtered through the freshly washed leaves. + +She shivered, both from the cold and from the inward horror which +had clutched her with fresh force in the open air. + +"Run along, run along to Mariette," she said to Seryozha, who had +followed her out, and she began walking up and down on the straw +matting of the terrace. "Can it be that they won't forgive me, +won't understand how it all couldn't be helped?" she said to +herself. + +Standing still, and looking at the tops of the aspen trees waving +in the wind, with their freshly washed, brightly shining leaves +in the cold sunshine, she knew that they would not forgive her, +that everyone and everything would be merciless to her now as +was that sky, that green. And again she felt that everything was +split in two in her soul. "I mustn't, mustn't think," she said +to herself. "I must get ready. To go where? When? Whom to +take with me? Yes, to Moscow by the evening train. Annushka and +Seryozha, and only the most necessary things. But first I must +write to them both." She went quickly indoors into her boudoir, +sat down at the table, and wrote to her husband:--"After what +has happened, I cannot remain any longer in your house. I am +going away, and taking my son with me. I don't know the law, and +so I don't know with which of the parents the son should remain; +but I take him with me because I cannot live without him. Be +generous, leave him to me." + +Up to this point she wrote rapidly and naturally, but the appeal +to his generosity, a quality she did not recognize in him, and +the necessity of winding up the letter with something touching, +pulled her up. "Of my fault and my remorse I cannot speak, +because..." + +She stopped again, finding no connection in her ideas. "No," she +said to herself, "there's no need of anything," and tearing up +the letter, she wrote it again, leaving out the allusion to +generosity, and sealed it up. + +Another letter had to be written to Vronsky. "I have told my +husband," she wrote, and she sat a long while unable to write +more. It was so coarse, so unfeminine. "And what more am I to +write to him?" she said to herself. Again a flush of shame spread +over her face; she recalled his composure, and a feeling of anger +against him impelled her to tear the sheet with the phrase she +had written into tiny bits. "No need of anything," she said to +herself, and closing her blotting-case she went upstairs, told +the governess and the servants that she was going that day to +Moscow, and at once set to work to pack up her things. + + + +Chapter 16 + + +All the rooms of the summer villa were full of porters, +gardeners, and footmen going to and fro carrying out things. +Cupboards and chests were open; twice they had sent to the shop +for cord; pieces of newspaper were tossing about on the floor. +Two trunks, some bags and strapped-up rugs, had been carried down +into the hall. The carriage and two hired cabs were waiting at +the steps. Anna, forgetting her inward agitation in the work of +packing, was standing at a table in her boudoir, packing her +traveling bag, when Annushka called her attention to the rattle +of some carriage driving up. Anna looked out of the window and +saw Alexey Alexandrovitch's courier on the steps, ringing at the +front door bell. + +"Run and find out what it is," she said, and with a calm sense of +being prepared for anything, she sat down in a low chair, folding +her hands on her knees. A footman brought in a thick packet +directed in Alexey Alexandrovitch's hand. + +"The courier has orders to wait for an answer," he said. + +"Very well," she said, and as soon as he had left the room she +tore open the letter with trembling fingers. A roll of unfolded +notes done up in a wrapper fell out of it. She disengaged the +letter and began reading it at the end. "Preparations shall be +made for your arrival here...I attach particular significance to +compliance..." she read. She ran on, then back, read it all +through, and once more read the letter all through again from the +beginning. When she had finished, she felt that she was cold all +over, and that a fearful calamity, such as she had not expected, +had burst upon her. + +In the morning she had regretted that she had spoken to her +husband, and wished for nothing so much as that those words could +be unspoken. And here this letter regarded them as unspoken, and +gave her what she had wanted. But now this letter seemed to her +more awful than anything she had been able to conceive. + +"He's right!" she said; "of course, he's always right; he's a +Christian, he's generous! Yes, vile, base creature! And no one +understands it except me, and no one ever will; and I can't +explain it. They say he's so religious, so high-principled, so +upright, so clever; but they don't see what I've seen. They +don't know how he has crushed my life for eight years, crushed +everything that was living in me--he has not once even thought +that I'm a live woman who must have love. They don't know how at +every step he's humiliated me, and been just as pleased with +himself. Haven't I striven, striven with all my strength, to +find something to give meaning to my life? Haven't I struggled +to love him, to love my son when I could not love my husband? +But the time came when I knew that I couldn't cheat myself any +longer, that I was alive, that I was not to blame, that God has +made me so that I must love and live. And now what does he do? +If he'd killed me, if he'd killed him, I could have borne +anything, I could have forgiven anything; but, no, he.... How +was it I didn't guess what he would do? He's doing just what's +characteristic of his mean character. He'll keep himself in the +right, while me, in my ruin, he'll drive still lower to worse +ruin yet..." + +She recalled the words from the letter. "You can conjecture what +awaits you and your son...." "That's a threat to take away my +child, and most likely by their stupid law he can. But I know +very well why he says it. He doesn't believe even in my love for +my child, or he despises it (just as he always used to ridicule +it). He despises that feeling in me, but he knows that I won't +abandon my child, that I can't abandon my child, that there +could be no life for me without my child, even with him whom I +love; but that if I abandoned my child and ran away from him, I +should be acting like the most infamous, basest of women. He +knows that, and knows that I am incapable of doing that." + +She recalled another sentence in the letter. "Our life must go +on as it has done in the past...." "That life was miserable +enough in the old days; it has been awful of late. What will it +be now? And he knows all that; he knows that I can't repent that +I breathe, that I love; he knows that it can lead to nothing but +lying and deceit; but he wants to go on torturing me. I know +him; I know that he's at home and is happy in deceit, like a fish +swimming in the water. No, I won't give him that happiness. +I'll break through the spiderweb of lies in which he wants to +catch me, come what may. Anything's better than lying and +deceit. + +"But how? My God! my God! Was ever a woman so miserable as I +am?..." + +"No; I will break through it, I will break through it!" she +cried, jumping up and keeping back her tears. And she went to +the writing table to write him another letter. But at the bottom +of her heart she felt that she was not strong enough to break +through anything, that she was not strong enough to get out of +her old position, however false and dishonorable it might be. + +She sat down at the writing table, but instead of writing she +clasped her hands on the table, and, laying her head on them, +burst into tears, with sobs and heaving breast like a child +crying. She was weeping that her dream of her position being +made clear and definite had been annihilated forever. She knew +beforehand that everything would go on in the old way, and far +worse, indeed, than in the old way. She felt that the position +in the world that she enjoyed, and that had seemed to her of so +little consequence in the morning, that this position was +precious to her, that she would not have the strength to exchange +it for the shameful position of a woman who has abandoned husband +and child to join her lover; that however much she might +struggle, she could not be stronger than herself. She would +never know freedom in love, but would remain forever a guilty +wife, with the menace of detection hanging over her at every +instant; deceiving her husband for the sake of a shameful +connection with a man living apart and away from her, whose life +she could never share. She knew that this was how it would be, +and at the same time it was so awful that she could not even +conceive what it would end in. And she cried without restraint, +as children cry when they are punished. + +The sound of the footman's steps forced her to rouse herself, +and, hiding her face from him, she pretended to be writing. + +"The courier asks if there's an answer," the footman announced. + +"An answer? Yes," said Anna. "Let him wait. I'll ring." + +"What can I write?" she thought. "What can I decide upon +alone? What do I know? What do I want? What is there I care +for?" Again she felt that her soul was beginning to be split in +two. She was terrified again at this feeling, and clutched at +the first pretext for doing something which might divert her +thoughts from herself. "I ought to see Alexey" (so she called +Vronsky in her thoughts); "no one but he can tell me what I ought +to do. I'll go to Betsy's, perhaps I shall see him there," she +said to herself, completely forgetting that when she had told him +the day before that she was not going to Princess Tverskaya's, he +had said that in that case he should not go either. She went up +to the table, wrote to her husband, "I have received your letter. +--A."; and, ringing the bell, gave it to the footman. + +"We are not going," she said to Annushka, as she came in. + +"Not going at all?" + +"No; don't unpack till tomorrow, and let the carriage wait. I'm +going to the princess's." + +"Which dress am I to get ready?" + + + +Chapter 17 + + +The croquet party to which the Princess Tverskaya had invited +Anna was to consist of two ladies and their adorers. These two +ladies were the chief representatives of a select new Petersburg +circle, nicknamed, in imitation of some imitation, _les sept +merveilles du monde_. These ladies belonged to a circle which, +though of the highest society, was utterly hostile to that in +which Anna moved. Moreover, Stremov, one of the most influential +people in Petersburg, and the elderly admirer of Liza Merkalova, +was Alexey Alexandrovitch's enemy in the political world. From +all these considerations Anna had not meant to go, and the hints +in Princess Tverskaya's note referred to her refusal. But now +Anna was eager to go, in the hope of seeing Vronsky. + +Anna arrived at Princess Tverskaya's earlier than the other +guests. + +At the same moment as she entered, Vronsky's footman, with +side-whiskers combed out like a _Kammerjunker_, went in too. +He stopped at the door, and, taking off his cap, let her pass. +Anna recognized him, and only then recalled that Vronsky had +told her the day before that he would not come. Most likely +he was sending a note to say so. + +As she took off her outer garment in the hall, she heard the +footman, pronouncing his "r's" even like a _Kammerjunker_, say, +"From the count for the princess," and hand the note. + +She longed to question him as to where his master was. She +longed to turn back and send him a letter to come and see her, or +to go herself to see him. But neither the first nor the second +nor the third course was possible. Already she heard bells +ringing to announce her arrival ahead of her, and Princess +Tverskaya's footman was standing at the open door waiting for her +to go forward into the inner rooms. + +"The princess is in the garden; they will inform her immediately. +Would you be pleased to walk into the garden?" announced another +footman in another room. + +The position of uncertainty, of indecision, was still the same as +at home--worse, in fact, since it was impossible to take any +step, impossible to see Vronsky, and she had to remain here among +outsiders, in company so uncongenial to her present mood. But +she was wearing a dress that she knew suited her. She was not +alone; all around was that luxurious setting of idleness that she +was used to, and she felt less wretched than at home. She was +not forced to think what she was to do. Everything would be done +of itself. On meeting Betsy coming towards her in a white gown +that struck her by its elegance, Anna smiled at her just as she +always did. Princess Tverskaya was walking with Tushkevitch and +a young lady, a relation, who, to the great joy of her parents in +the provinces, was spending the summer with the fashionable +princess. + +There was probably something unusual about Anna, for Betsy +noticed it at once. + +"I slept badly," answered Anna, looking intently at the footman +who came to meet them, and, as she supposed, brought Vronsky's +note. + +"How glad I am you've come!" said Betsy. "I'm tired, and was +just longing to have some tea before they come. You might go"-- +she turned to Tushkevitch--"with Masha, and try the croquet +ground over there where they've been cutting it. We shall have +time to talk a little over tea; we'll have a cozy chat, eh?" she +said in English to Anna, with a smile, pressing the hand with +which she held a parasol. + +"Yes, especially as I can't stay very long with you. I'm forced +to go on to old Madame Vrede. I've been promising to go for a +century," said Anna, to whom lying, alien as it was to her +nature, had become not merely simple and natural in society, but +a positive source of satisfaction. Why she said this, which she +had not thought of a second before, she could not have explained. +She had said it simply from the reflection that as Vronsky would +not be here, she had better secure her own freedom, and try to +see him somehow. But why she had spoken of old Madame Vrede, +whom she had to go and see, as she had to see many other people, +she could not have explained; and yet, as it afterwards turned +out, had she contrived the most cunning devices to meet Vronsky, +she could have thought of nothing better. + +"No. I'm not going to let you go for anything," answered Betsy, +looking intently into Anna's face. "Really, if I were not fond +of you, I should feel offended. One would think you were afraid +my society would compromise you. Tea in the little dining room, +please," she said, half closing her eyes, as she always did when +addressing the footman. + +Taking the note from him, she read it. + +"Alexey's playing us false," she said in French; "he writes that +he can't come," she added in a tone as simple and natural as +though it could never enter her head that Vronsky could mean +anything more to Anna than a game of croquet. Anna knew that +Betsy knew everything, but, hearing how she spoke of Vronsky +before her, she almost felt persuaded for a minute that she knew +nothing. + +"Ah!" said Anna indifferently, as though not greatly interested +in the matter, and she went on smiling: "How can you or your +friends compromise anyone?" + +This playing with words, this hiding of a secret, had a great +fascination for Anna, as, indeed, it has for all women. And it +was not the necessity of concealment, not the aim with which the +concealment was contrived, but the process of concealment itself +which attracted her. + +"I can't be more Catholic than the Pope," she said. "Stremov +and Liza Merkalova, why, they're the cream of the cream of +society. Besides, they're received everywhere, and _I_"--she +laid special stress on the I--"have never been strict and +intolerant. It's simply that I haven't the time." + +"No; you don't care, perhaps, to meet Stremov? Let him and +Alexey Alexandrovitch tilt at each other in the committee-- +that's no affair of ours. But in the world, he's the most +amiable man I know, and a devoted croquet player. You shall see. +And, in spite of his absurd position as Liza's lovesick swain at +his age, you ought to see how he carries off the absurd position. +He's very nice. Sappho Shtoltz you don't know? Oh, that's a new +type, quite new." + +Betsy said all this, and, at the same time, from her +good-humored, shrewd glance, Anna felt that she partly guessed +her plight, and was hatching something for her benefit. They +were in the little boudoir. + +"I must write to Alexey though," and Betsy sat down to the +table, scribbled a few lines, and put the note in an envelope. + +"I'm telling him to come to dinner. I've one lady extra to +dinner with me, and no man to take her in. Look what I've said, +will that persuade him? Excuse me, I must leave you for a +minute. Would you seal it up, please, and send it off?" she said +from the door; "I have to give some directions." + +Without a moment's thought, Anna sat down to the table with +Betsy's letter, and, without reading it, wrote below: "It's +essential for me to see you. Come to the Vrede garden. I shall +be there at six o'clock." She sealed it up, and, Betsy coming +back, in her presence handed the note to be taken. + +At tea, which was brought them on a little tea-table in the cool +little drawing room, the cozy chat promised by Princess Tverskaya +before the arrival of her visitors really did come off between +the two women. They criticized the people they were expecting, +and the conversation fell upon Liza Merkalova. + +"She's very sweet, and I always liked her," said Anna. + +"You ought to like her. She raves about you. Yesterday she came +up to me after the races and was in despair at not finding you. +She says you're a real heroine of romance, and that if she were a +man she would do all sorts of mad things for your sake. Stremov +says she does that as it is." + +"But do tell me, please, I never could make it out," said Anna, +after being silent for some time, speaking in a tone that showed +she was not asking an idle question, but that what she was asking +was of more importance to her than it should have been; "do tell +me, please, what are her relations with Prince Kaluzhsky, Mishka, +as he's called? I've met them so little. What does it mean?" + +Betsy smiled with her eyes, and looked intently at Anna. + +"It's a new manner," she said. "They've all adopted that manner. +They've flung their caps over the windmills. But there are ways +and ways of flinging them." + +"Yes, but what are her relations precisely with Kaluzhsky?" + +Betsy broke into unexpectedly mirthful and irrepressible +laughter, a thing which rarely happened with her. + +"You're encroaching on Princess Myakaya's special domain now. +That's the question of an _enfant terrible_," and Betsy obviously +tried to restrain herself, but could not, and went off into peals +of that infectious laughter that people laugh who do not laugh +often. "You'd better ask them," she brought out, between tears +of laughter. + +"No; you laugh," said Anna, laughing too in spite of herself, +"but I never could understand it. I can't understand the +husband's role in it." + +"The husband? Liza Merkalova's husband carries her shawl, and is +always ready to be of use. But anything more than that in +reality, no one cares to inquire. You know in decent society one +doesn't talk or think even of certain details of the toilet. +That's how it is with this." + +"Will you be at Madame Rolandak's fete?" asked Anna, to change +the conversation. + +"I don't think so," answered Betsy, and, without looking at her +friend, she began filling the little transparent cups with +fragrant tea. Putting a cup before Anna, she took out a +cigarette, and, fitting it into a silver holder, she lighted it. + +"It's like this, you see: I'm in a fortunate position," she +began, quite serious now, as she took up her cup. "I understand +you, and I understand Liza. Liza now is one of those naive +natures that, like children, don't know what's good and what's +bad. Anyway, she didn't comprehend it when she was very young. +And now she's aware that the lack of comprehension suits her. +Now, perhaps, she doesn't know on purpose," said Betsy, with a +subtle smile. "But, anyway, it suits her. The very same thing, +don't you see, may be looked at tragically, and turned into a +misery, or it may be looked at simply and even humorously. +Possibly you are inclined to look at things too tragically." + +"How I should like to know other people just as I know myself!" +said Anna, seriously and dreamily. "Am I worse than other +people, or better? I think I'm worse." + +"_Enfant terrible, enfant terrible!_" repeated Betsy. "But here +they are." + + + +Chapter 18 + + +They heard the sound of steps and a man's voice, then a woman's +voice and laughter, and immediately thereafter there walked in +the expected guests: Sappho Shtoltz, and a young man beaming with +excess of health, the so-called Vaska. It was evident that ample +supplies of beefsteak, truffles, and Burgundy never failed to +reach him at the fitting hour. Vaska bowed to the two ladies, +and glanced at them, but only for one second. He walked after +Sappho into the drawing-room, and followed her about as though he +were chained to her, keeping his sparkling eyes fixed on her as +though he wanted to eat her. Sappho Shtoltz was a blonde beauty +with black eyes. She walked with smart little steps in +high-heeled shoes, and shook hands with the ladies vigorously +like a man. + +Anna had never met this new star of fashion, and was struck by +her beauty, the exaggerated extreme to which her dress was +carried, and the boldness of her manners. On her head there was +such a superstructure of soft, golden hair--her own and false +mixed--that her head was equal in size to the elegantly rounded +bust, of which so much was exposed in front. The impulsive +abruptness of her movements was such that at every step the lines +of her knees and the upper part of her legs were distinctly +marked under her dress, and the question involuntarily rose to +the mind where in the undulating, piled-up mountain of material +at the back the real body of the woman, so small and slender, so +naked in front, and so hidden behind and below, really came to an +end. + +Betsy made haste to introduce her to Anna. + +"Only fancy, we all but ran over two soldiers," she began telling +them at once, using her eyes, smiling and twitching away her +tail, which she flung back at one stroke all on one side. "I +drove here with Vaska.... Ah, to be sure, you don't know each +other." And mentioning his surname she introduced the young man, +and reddening a little, broke into a ringing laugh at her +mistake--that is, at her having called him Vaska to a stranger. +Vaska bowed once more to Anna, but he said nothing to her. He +addressed Sappho: "You've lost your bet. We got here first. Pay +up," said he, smiling. + +Sappho laughed still more festively. + +"Not just now," said she. + +"Oh, all right, I'll have it later." + +"Very well, very well. Oh, yes." She turned suddenly to +Princess Betsy: "I am a nice person...I positively forgot it... +I've brought you a visitor. And here he comes." The unexpected +young visitor, whom Sappho had invited, and whom she had +forgotten, was, however, a personage of such consequence that, in +spite of his youth, both the ladies rose on his entrance. + +He was a new admirer of Sappho's. He now dogged her footsteps, +like Vaska. + +Soon after Prince Kaluzhsky arrived, and Liza Merkalova with +Stremov. Liza Merkalova was a thin brunette, with an Oriental, +languid type of face, and--as everyone used to say--exquisite +enigmatic eyes. The tone of her dark dress (Anna immediately +observed and appreciated the fact) was in perfect harmony with +her style of beauty. Liza was as soft and enervated as Sappho +was smart and abrupt. + +But to Anna's taste Liza was far more attractive. Betsy had said +to Anna that she had adopted the pose of an innocent child, but +when Anna saw her, she felt that this was not the truth. She +really was both innocent and corrupt, but a sweet and passive +woman. It is true that her tone was the same as Sappho's; that +like Sappho, she had two men, one young and one old, tacked onto +her, and devouring her with their eyes. But there was something +in her higher than what surrounded her. There was in her the +glow of the real diamond among glass imitations. This glow shone +out in her exquisite, truly enigmatic eyes. The weary, and at +the same time passionate, glance of those eyes, encircled by dark +rings, impressed one by its perfect sincerity. Everyone looking +into those eyes fancied he knew her wholly, and knowing her, +could not but love her. At the sight of Anna, her whole face +lighted up at once with a smile of delight. + +"Ah, how glad I am to see you!" she said, going up to her. +"Yesterday at the races all I wanted was to get to you, but +you'd gone away. I did so want to see you, yesterday especially. +Wasn't it awful?" she said, looking at Anna with eyes that seemed +to lay bare all her soul. + +"Yes; I had no idea it would be so thrilling," said Anna, +blushing. + +The company got up at this moment to go into the garden. + +"I'm not going," said Liza, smiling and settling herself close to +Anna. "You won't go either, will you? Who wants to play +croquet?" + +"Oh, I like it," said Anna. + +"There, how do you manage never to be bored by things? It's +delightful to look at you. You're alive, but I'm bored." + +"How can you be bored? Why, you live in the liveliest set in +Petersburg," said Anna. + +"Possibly the people who are not of our set are even more bored; +but we--I certainly--are not happy, but awfully, awfully +bored." + +Sappho smoking a cigarette went off into the garden with the two +young men. Betsy and Stremov remained at the tea-table. + +"What, bored!" said Betsy. "Sappho says they did enjoy +themselves tremendously at your house last night." + +"Ah, how dreary it all was!" said Liza Merkalova. "We all drove +back to my place after the races. And always the same people, +always the same. Always the same thing. We lounged about on +sofas all the evening. What is there to enjoy in that? No; do +tell me how you manage never to be bored?" she said, addressing +Anna again. "One has but to look at you and one sees, here's a +woman who may be happy or unhappy, but isn't bored. Tell me how +you do it?" + +"I do nothing," answered Anna, blushing at these searching +questions. + +"That's the best way," Stremov put in. Stremov was a man of +fifty, partly gray, but still vigorous-looking, very ugly, but +with a characteristic and intelligent face. Liza Merkalova was +his wife's niece, and he spent all his leisure hours with her. +On meeting Anna Karenina, as he was Alexey Alexandrovitch's enemy +in the government, he tried, like a shrewd man and a man of the +world, to be particularly cordial with her, the wife of his +enemy. + +"'Nothing,'" he put in with a subtle smile, "that's the very best +way. I told you long ago," he said, turning to Liza Merkalova, +"that if you don't want to be bored, you mustn't think you're +going to be bored. It's just as you mustn't be afraid of not +being able to fall asleep, if you're afraid of sleeplessness. +That's just what Anna Arkadyevna has just said." + +"I should be very glad if I had said it, for it's not only +clever but true," said Anna, smiling. + +"No, do tell me why it is one can't go to sleep, and one can't +help being bored?" + +"To sleep well one ought to work, and to enjoy oneself one ought +to work too." + +"What am I to work for when my work is no use to anybody? And I +can't and won't knowingly make a pretense about it." + +"You're incorrigible," said Stremov, not looking at her, and he +spoke again to Anna. As he rarely met Anna, he could say nothing +but commonplaces to her, but he said those commonplaces as to +when she was returning to Petersburg, and how fond Countess Lidia +Ivanovna was of her, with an expression which suggested that he +longed with his whole soul to please her and show his regard for +her and even more than that. + +Tushkevitch came in, announcing that the party were awaiting the +other players to begin croquet. + +"No, don't go away, please don't," pleaded Liza Merkalova, +hearing that Anna was going. Stremov joined in her entreaties. + +"It's too violent a transition," he said, "to go from such +company to old Madame Vrede. And besides, you will only give her +a chance for talking scandal, while here you arouse none but such +different feelings of the highest and most opposite kind," he +said to her. + +Anna pondered for an instant in uncertainty. This shrewd man's +flattering words, the naive, childlike affection shown her by +Liza Merkalova, and all the social atmosphere she was used to,-- +it was all so easy, and what was in store for her was so +difficult, that she was for a minute in uncertainty whether to +remain, whether to put off a little longer the painful moment of +explanation. But remembering what was in store for her alone at +home, if she did not come to some decision, remembering that +gesture--terrible even in memory--when she had clutched her +hair in both hands--she said good-bye and went away. + + + +Chapter 19 + + +In spite of Vronsky's apparently frivolous life in society, he +was a man who hated irregularity. In early youth in the Corps of +Pages, he had experienced the humiliation of a refusal, when he +had tried, being in difficulties, to borrow money, and since then +he had never once put himself in the same position again. + +In order to keep his affairs in some sort of order, he used about +five times a year (more or less frequently, according to +circumstances) to shut himself up alone and put all his affairs +into definite shape. This he used to call his day of reckoning +or _faire la lessive_. + +On waking up the day after the races, Vronsky put on a white +linen coat, and without shaving or taking his bath, he +distributed about the table moneys, bills, and letters, and set +to work. Petritsky, who knew he was ill-tempered on such +occasions, on waking up and seeing his comrade at the +writing-table, quietly dressed and went out without getting in +his way. + +Every man who knows to the minutest details all the complexity of +the conditions surrounding him, cannot help imagining that the +complexity of these conditions, and the difficulty of making them +clear, is something exceptional and personal, peculiar to +himself, and never supposes that others are surrounded by just as +complicated an array of personal affairs as he is. So indeed it +seemed to Vronsky. And not without inward pride, and not +without reason, he thought that any other man would long ago have +been in difficulties, would have been forced to some dishonorable +course, if he had found himself in such a difficult position. +But Vronsky felt that now especially it was essential for him to +clear up and define his position if he were to avoid getting into +difficulties. + +What Vronsky attacked first as being the easiest was his +pecuniary position. Writing out on note paper in his minute hand +all that he owed, he added up the amount and found that his debts +amounted to seventeen thousand and some odd hundreds, which he +left out for the sake of clearness. Reckoning up his money and +his bank book, he found that he had left one thousand eight +hundred roubles, and nothing coming in before the New Year. +Reckoning over again his list of debts, Vronsky copied it, +dividing it into three classes. In the first class he put the +debts which he would have to pay at once, or for which he must in +any case have the money ready so that on demand for payment there +could not be a moment's delay in paying. Such debts amounted to +about four thousand: one thousand five hundred for a horse, and +two thousand five hundred as surety for a young comrade, +Venovsky, who had lost that sum to a cardsharper in Vronsky's +presence. Vronsky had wanted to pay the money at the time (he +had that amount then), but Venovsky and Yashvin had insisted that +they would pay and not Vronsky, who had not played. That was so +far well, but Vronsky knew that in this dirty business, though +his only share in it was undertaking by word of mouth to be +surety for Venovsky, it was absolutely necessary for him to have +the two thousand five hundred roubles so as to be able to fling +it at the swindler, and have no more words with him. And so for +this first and most important division he must have four thousand +roubles. The second class--eight thousand roubles--consisted +of less important debts. These were principally accounts owing +in connection with his race horses, to the purveyor of oats and +hay, the English saddler, and so on. He would have to pay some +two thousand roubles on these debts too, in order to be quite +free from anxiety. The last class of debts--to shops, to +hotels, to his tailor--were such as need not be considered. So +that he needed at least six thousand roubles for current +expenses, and he only had one thousand eight hundred. For a man +with one hundred thousand roubles of revenue, which was what +everyone fixed as Vronsky's income, such debts, one would +suppose, could hardly be embarrassing; but the fact was that he +was far from having one hundred thousand. His father's immense +property, which alone yielded a yearly income of two hundred +thousand, was left undivided between the brothers. At the time +when the elder brother, with a mass of debts, married Princess +Varya Tchirkova, the daughter of a Decembrist without any fortune +whatever, Alexey had given up to his elder brother almost the +whole income from his father's estate, reserving for himself only +twenty-five thousand a year from it. Alexey had said at the time +to his brother that that sum would be sufficient for him until he +married, which he probably never would do. And his brother, who +was in command of one of the most expensive regiments, and was +only just married, could not decline the gift. His mother, who +had her own separate property, had allowed Alexey every year +twenty thousand in addition to the twenty-five thousand he had +reserved, and Alexey had spent it all. Of late his mother, +incensed with him on account of his love affair and his leaving +Moscow, had given up sending him the money. And in consequence +of this, Vronsky, who had been in the habit of living on the +scale of forty-five thousand a year, having only received twenty +thousand that year, found himself now in difficulties. To get +out of these difficulties, he could not apply to his mother for +money. Her last letter, which he had received the day before, +had particularly exasperated him by the hints in it that she was +quite ready to help him to succeed in the world and in the army, +but not to lead a life which was a scandal to all good society. +His mother's attempt to buy him stung him to the quick and made +him feel colder than ever to her. But he could not draw back +from the generous word when it was once uttered, even though he +felt now, vaguely foreseeing certain eventualities in his +intrigue with Madame Karenina, that this generous word had been +spoken thoughtlessly, and that even though he were not married he +might need all the hundred thousand of income. But it was +impossible to draw back. He had only to recall his brother's +wife, to remember how that sweet, delightful Varya sought, at +every convenient opportunity, to remind him that she remembered +his generosity and appreciated it, to grasp the impossibility of +taking back his gift. It was as impossible as beating a woman, +stealing, or lying. One thing only could and ought to be done, +and Vronsky determined upon it without an instant's hesitation: +to borrow money from a money-lender, ten thousand roubles, a +proceeding which presented no difficulty, to cut down his +expenses generally, and to sell his race horses. Resolving on +this, he promptly wrote a note to Rolandak, who had more than +once sent to him with offers to buy horses from him. Then he +sent for the Englishman and the money-lender, and divided what +money he had according to the accounts he intended to pay. +Having finished this business, he wrote a cold and cutting answer +to his mother. Then he took out of his notebook three notes of +Anna's, read them again, burned them, and remembering their +conversation on the previous day, he sank into meditation. + + + +Chapter 20 + + +Vronsky's life was particularly happy in that he had a code of +principles, which defined with unfailing certitude what he ought +and what he ought not to do. This code of principles covered +only a very small circle of contingencies, but then the +principles were never doubtful, and Vronsky, as he never went +outside that circle, had never had a moment's hesitation about +doing what he ought to do. These principles laid down as +invariable rules: that one must pay a cardsharper, but need not +pay a tailor; that one must never tell a lie to a man, but one +may to a woman; that one must never cheat anyone, but one may a +husband; that one must never pardon an insult, but one may give +one and so on. These principles were possibly not reasonable and +not good, but they were of unfailing certainty, and so long as he +adhered to them, Vronsky felt that his heart was at peace and he +could hold his head up. Only quite lately in regard to his +relations with Anna, Vronsky had begun to feel that his code of +principles did not fully cover all possible contingencies, and to +foresee in the future difficulties and perplexities for which he +could find no guiding clue. + +His present relation to Anna and to her husband was to his mind +clear and simple. It was clearly and precisely defined in the +code of principles by which he was guided. + +She was an honorable woman who had bestowed her love upon him, +and he loved her, and therefore she was in his eyes a woman who +had a right to the same, or even more, respect than a lawful +wife. He would have had his hand chopped off before he would +have allowed himself by a word, by a hint, to humiliate her, or +even to fall short of the fullest respect a woman could look for. + +His attitude to society, too, was clear. Everyone might know, +might suspect it, but no one might dare to speak of it. If any +did so, he was ready to force all who might speak to be silent +and to respect the non-existent honor of the woman he loved. + +His attitude to the husband was the clearest of all. From the +moment that Anna loved Vronsky, he had regarded his own right +over her as the one thing unassailable. Her husband was simply a +superfluous and tiresome person. No doubt he was in a pitiable +position, but how could that be helped? The one thing the +husband had a right to was to demand satisfaction with a weapon +in his hand, and Vronsky was prepared for this at any minute. + +But of late new inner relations had arisen between him and her, +which frightened Vronsky by their indefiniteness. Only the day +before she had told him that she was with child. And he felt +that this fact and what she expected of him called for something +not fully defined in that code of principles by which he had +hitherto steered his course in life. And he had been indeed +caught unawares, and at the first moment when she spoke to him of +her position, his heart had prompted him to beg her to leave her +husband. He had said that, but now thinking things over he saw +clearly that it would be better to manage to avoid that; and at +the same time, as he told himself so, he was afraid whether it +was not wrong. + +"If I told her to leave her husband, that must mean uniting her +life with mine; am I prepared for that? How can I take her away +now, when I have no money? Supposing I could arrange.... But +how can I take her away while I'm in the service? If I say +that--I ought to be prepared to do it, that is, I ought to have +the money and to retire from the army." + +And he grew thoughtful. The question whether to retire from the +service or not brought him to the other and perhaps the chief +though hidden interest of his life, of which none knew but he. + +Ambition was the old dream of his youth and childhood, a dream +which he did not confess even to himself, though it was so +strong that now this passion was even doing battle with his love. +His first steps in the world and in the service had been +successful, but two years before he had made a great mistake. +Anxious to show his independence and to advance, he had refused a +post that had been offered him, hoping that this refusal would +heighten his value; but it turned out that he had been too bold, +and he was passed over. And having, whether he liked or not, +taken up for himself the position of an independent man, he +carried it off with great tact and good sense, behaving as though +he bore no grudge against anyone, did not regard himself as +injured in any way, and cared for nothing but to be left alone +since he was enjoying himself. In reality he had ceased to enjoy +himself as long ago as the year before, when he went away to +Moscow. He felt that this independent attitude of a man who +might have done anything, but cared to do nothing, was already +beginning to pall, that many people were beginning to fancy that +he was not really capable of anything but being a +straightforward, good-natured fellow. His connection with Madame +Karenina, by creating so much sensation and attracting general +attention, had given him a fresh distinction which soothed his +gnawing worm of ambition for a while, but a week before that worm +had been roused up again with fresh force. The friend of his +childhood, a man of the same set, of the same coterie, his +comrade in the Corps of Pages, Serpuhovskoy, who had left school +with him and had been his rival in class, in gymnastics, in their +scrapes and their dreams of glory, had come back a few days +before from Central Asia, where he had gained two steps up in +rank, and an order rarely bestowed upon generals so young. + +As soon as he arrived in Petersburg, people began to talk about +him as a newly risen star of the first magnitude. A schoolfellow +of Vronsky's and of the same age, he was a general and was +expecting a command, which might have influence on the course of +political events; while Vronsky, independent and brilliant and +beloved by a charming woman though he was, was simply a cavalry +captain who was readily allowed to be as independent as ever he +liked. "Of course I don't envy Serpuhovskoy and never could +envy him; but his advancement shows me that one has only to watch +one's opportunity, and the career of a man like me may be very +rapidly made. Three years ago he was in just the same position +as I am. If I retire, I burn my ships. If I remain in the army, +I lose nothing. She said herself she did not wish to change her +position. And with her love I cannot feel envious of +Serpuhovskoy." And slowly twirling his mustaches, he got up from +the table and walked about the room. His eyes shone particularly +brightly, and he felt in that confident, calm, and happy frame of +mind which always came after he had thoroughly faced his +position. Everything was straight and clear, just as after +former days of reckoning. He shaved, took a cold bath, dressed +and went out. + + + +Chapter 21 + + +"We've come to fetch you. Your _lessive_ lasted a good time +today," said Petritsky. "Well, is it over?" + +"It is over," answered Vronsky, smiling with his eyes only, and +twirling the tips of his mustaches as circumspectly as though +after the perfect order into which his affairs had been brought +any over-bold or rapid movement might disturb it. + +"You're always just as if you'd come out of a bath after it," +said Petritsky. "I've come from Gritsky's" (that was what they +called the colonel); "they're expecting you." + +Vronsky, without answering, looked at his comrade, thinking of +something else. + +"Yes; is that music at his place?" he said, listening to the +familiar sounds of polkas and waltzes floating across to him. +"What's the fete?" + +"Serpuhovskoy's come." + +"Aha!" said Vronsky, "why, I didn't know." + +The smile in his eyes gleamed more brightly than ever. + +Having once made up his mind that he was happy in his love, that +he sacrificed his ambition to it--having anyway taken up this +position, Vronsky was incapable of feeling either envious of +Serpuhovskoy or hurt with him for not coming first to him when he +came to the regiment. Serpuhovskoy was a good friend, and he was +delighted he had come. + +"Ah, I'm very glad!" + +The colonel, Demin, had taken a large country house. The whole +party were in the wide lower balcony. In the courtyard the first +objects that met Vronsky's eyes were a band of singers in white +linen coats, standing near a barrel of vodka, and the robust, +good-humored figure of the colonel surrounded by officers. He +had gone out as far as the first step of the balcony and was +loudly shouting across the band that played Offenbach's +quadrille, waving his arms and giving some orders to a few +soldiers standing on one side. A group of soldiers, a +quartermaster, and several subalterns came up to the balcony with +Vronsky. The colonel returned to the table, went out again onto +the steps with a tumbler in his hand, and proposed the toast, "To +the health of our former comrade, the gallant general, Prince +Serpuhovskoy. Hurrah!" + +The colonel was followed by Serpuhovskoy, who came out onto the +steps smiling, with a glass in his hand. + +"You always get younger, Bondarenko," he said to the +rosy-checked, smart-looking quartermaster standing just before +him, still youngish looking though doing his second term of +service. + +It was three years since Vronsky had seen Serpuhovskoy. He +looked more robust, had let his whiskers grow, but was still the +same graceful creature, whose face and figure were even more +striking from their softness and nobility than their beauty. The +only change Vronsky detected in him was that subdued, continual +radiance of beaming content which settles on the faces of men who +are successful and are sure of the recognition of their success +by everyone. Vronsky knew that radiant air, and immediately +observed it in Serpuhovskoy. + +As Serpuhovskoy came down the steps he saw Vronsky. A smile of +pleasure lighted up his face. He tossed his head upwards and +waved the glass in his hand, greeting Vronsky, and showing him by +the gesture that he could not come to him before the +quartermaster, who stood craning forward his lips ready to be +kissed. + +"Here he is!" shouted the colonel. "Yashvin told me you were in +one of your gloomy tempers." + +Serpuhovskoy kissed the moist, fresh lips of the gallant-looking +quartermaster, and wiping his mouth with his handkerchief, went +up to Vronsky. + +"How glad I am!" he said, squeezing his hand and drawing him on +one side. + +"You look after him," the colonel shouted to Yashvin, pointing to +Vronsky; and he went down below to the soldiers. + +"Why weren't you at the races yesterday? I expected to see you +there," said Vronsky, scrutinizing Serpuhovskoy. + +"I did go, but late. I beg your pardon," he added, and he +turned to the adjutant: "Please have this divided from me, each +man as much as it runs to." And he hurriedly took notes for +three hundred roubles from his pocketbook, blushing a little. + +"Vronsky! Have anything to eat or drink?" asked Yashvin. "Hi, +something for the count to eat! Ah, here it is: have a glass!" + +The fete at the colonel's lasted a long while. There was a great +deal of drinking. They tossed Serpuhovskoy in the air and caught +him again several times. Then they did the same to the colonel. +Then, to the accompaniment of the band, the colonel himself +danced with Petritsky. Then the colonel, who began to show signs +of feebleness, sat down on a bench in the courtyard and began +demonstrating to Yashvin the superiority of Russia over Poland, +especially in cavalry attack, and there was a lull in the revelry +for a moment. Serpuhovskoy went into the house to the bathroom +to wash his hands and found Vronsky there; Vronsky was drenching +his head with water. He had taken off his coat and put his +sunburnt, hairy neck under the tap, and was rubbing it and his +head with his hands. When he had finished, Vronsky sat down by +Serpuhovskoy. They both sat down in the bathroom on a lounge, +and a conversation began which was very interesting to both of +them. + +"I've always been hearing about you through my wife," said +Serpuhovskoy. "I'm glad you've been seeing her pretty often." + +"She's friendly with Varya, and they're the only women in +Petersburg I care about seeing," answered Vronsky, smiling. He +smiled because he foresaw the topic the conversation would turn +on, and he was glad of it. + +"The only ones?" Serpuhovskoy queried, smiling. + +"Yes; and I heard news of you, but not only through your wife," +said Vronsky, checking his hint by a stern expression of face. +"I was greatly delighted to hear of your success, but not a bit +surprised. I expected even more." + +Serpuhovskoy smiled. Such an opinion of him was obviously +agreeable to him, and he did not think it necessary to conceal +it. + +"Well, I on the contrary expected less--I'll own frankly. But +I'm glad, very glad. I'm ambitious; that's my weakness, and I +confess to it." + +"Perhaps you wouldn't confess to it if you hadn't been +successful," said Vronsky. + +"I don't suppose so," said Serpuhovskoy, smiling again. "I +won't say life wouldn't be worth living without it, but it would +be dull. Of course I may be mistaken, but I fancy I have a +certain capacity for the line I've chosen, and that power of any +sort in my hands, if it is to be, will be better than in the +hands of a good many people I know," said Serpuhovskoy, with +beaming consciousness of success; "and so the nearer I get to it, +the better pleased I am." + +"Perhaps that is true for you, but not for everyone. I used to +think so too, but here I live and think life worth living not +only for that." + +"There it's out! here it comes!" said Serpuhovskoy, laughing. +"Ever since I heard about you, about your refusal, I began.... +Of course, I approved of what you did. But there are ways of +doing everything. And I think your action was good in itself, +but you didn't do it quite in the way you ought to have done." + +"What's done can't be undone, and you know I never go back on +what I've done. And besides, I'm very well off." + +"Very well off--for the time. But you're not satisfied with +that. I wouldn't say this to your brother. He's a nice child, +like our host here. There he goes!" he added, listening to the +roar of "hurrah!"--"and he's happy, but that does not satisfy +you." + +"I didn't say it did satisfy me." + +"Yes, but that's not the only thing. Such men as you are +wanted." + +"By whom?" + +"By whom? By society, by Russia. Russia needs men; she needs a +party, or else everything goes and will go to the dogs." + +"How do you mean? Bertenev's party against the Russian +communists?" + +"No," said Serpuhovskoy, frowning with vexation at being +suspected of such an absurdity. "_Tout ca est une blague_. +That's always been and always will be. There are no communists. +But intriguing people have to invent a noxious, dangerous party. +It's an old trick. No, what's wanted is a powerful party of +independent men like you and me." + +"But why so?" Vronsky mentioned a few men who were in power. +"Why aren't they independent men?" + +"Simply because they have not, or have not had from birth, an +independent fortune; they've not had a name, they've not been +close to the sun and center as we have. They can be bought +either by money or by favor. And they have to find a support for +themselves in inventing a policy. And they bring forward some +notion, some policy that they don't believe in, that does harm; +and the whole policy is really only a means to a government house +and so much income. _Cela n'est pas plus fin que ca_, when you get +a peep at their cards. I may be inferior to them, stupider +perhaps, though I don't see why I should be inferior to them. +But you and I have one important advantage over them for certain, +in being more difficult to buy. And such men are more needed +than ever." + +Vronsky listened attentively, but he was not so much interested +by the meaning of the words as by the attitude of Serpuhovskoy +who was already contemplating a struggle with the existing +powers, and already had his likes and dislikes in that higher +world, while his own interest in the governing world did not go +beyond the interests of his regiment. Vronsky felt, too, how +powerful Serpuhovskoy might become through his unmistakable +faculty for thinking things out and for taking things in, through +his intelligence and gift of words, so rarely met with in the +world in which he moved. And, ashamed as he was of the feeling, +he felt envious. + +"Still I haven't the one thing of most importance for that," he +answered; "I haven't the desire for power. I had it once, but +it's gone." + +"Excuse me, that's not true," said Serpuhovskoy, smiling. + +"Yes, it is true, it is true...now!" Vronsky added, to be +truthful. + +"Yes, it's true now, that's another thing; but that _now_ won't +last forever." + +"Perhaps," answered Vronsky. + +"You say _perhaps_," Serpuhovskoy went on, as though guessing his +thoughts, "but I say _for certain_. And that's what I wanted to +see you for. Your action was just what it should have been. I +see that, but you ought not to keep it up. I only ask you to +give me carte blanche. I'm not going to offer you my +protection...though, indeed, why shouldn't I protect you?-- +you've protected me often enough! I should hope our friendship +rises above all that sort of thing. Yes," he said, smiling to +him as tenderly as a woman, "give me _carte blanche_, retire from +the regiment, and I'll draw you upwards imperceptibly." + +"But you must understand that I want nothing," said Vronsky, +"except that all should be as it is." + +Serpuhovskoy got up and stood facing him. + +"You say that all should be as it is. I understand what that +means. But listen: we're the same age, you've known a greater +number of women perhaps than I have." Serpohovskoy's smile and +gestures told Vronsky that he mustn't be afraid, that he would be +tender and careful in touching the sore place. "But I'm married, +and believe me, in getting to know thoroughly one's wife, if one +loves her, as someone has said, one gets to know all women better +than if one knew thousands of them." + +"We're coming directly!" Vronsky shouted to an officer, who +looked into the room and called them to the colonel. + +Vronsky was longing now to hear to the end and know what +Serpuhovskey would say to him. + +"And here's my opinion for you. Women are the chief stumbling +block in a man's career. It's hard to love a woman and do +anything. There's only one way of having love conveniently +without its being a hindrance--that's marriage. How, how am I +to tell you what I mean?" said Serpuhovskoy, who liked similes. +"Wait a minute, wait a minute! Yes, just as you can only carry a +_fardeau_ and do something with your hands, when the fardeau is +tied on your back, and that's marriage. And that's what I felt +when I was married. My hands were suddenly set free. But to +drag that _fardeau_ about with you without marriage, your hands +will always be so full that you can do nothing. Look at +Mazankov, at Krupov. They've ruined their careers for the sake +of women." + +"What women!" said Vronsky, recalling the Frenchwoman and the +actress with whom the two men he had mentioned were connected. + +"The firmer the woman's footing in society, the worse it is. +That's much the same as--not merely carrying the _fardeau_ in +your arms--but tearing it away from someone else." + +"You have never loved," Vronsky said softly, looking straight +before him and thinking of Anna. + +"Perhaps. But you remember what I've said to you. And another +thing, women are all more materialistic than men. We make +something immense out of love, but they are always +_terre-a-terre_." + +"Directly, directly!" he cried to a footman who came in. But the +footman had not come to call them again, as he supposed. The +footman brought Vronsky a note. + +"A man brought it from Princess Tverskaya." + +Vronsky opened the letter, and flushed crimson. + +"My head's begun to ache; I'm going home," he said to +Serpuhovskoy. + +"Oh, good-bye then. You give me _carte blanche!_" + +"We'll talk about it later on; I'll look you up in Petersburg." + + + +Chapter 22 + + +It was six o'clock already, and so, in order to be there quickly, +and at the same time not to drive with his own horses, known to +everyone, Vronsky got into Yashvin's hired fly, and told the +driver to drive as quickly as possible. It was a roomy, +old-fashioned fly, with seats for four. He sat in one corner, +stretched his legs out on the front seat, and sank into +meditation. + +A vague sense of the order into which his affairs had been +brought, a vague recollection of the friendliness and flattery of +Serpuhovskoy, who had considered him a man that was needed, and +most of all, the anticipation of the interview before him--all +blended into a general, joyous sense of life. This feeling was +so strong that he could not help smiling. He dropped his legs, +crossed one leg over the other knee, and taking it in his hand, +felt the springy muscle of the calf, where it had been grazed the +day before by his fall, and leaning back he drew several deep +breaths. + +"I'm happy, very happy!" he said to himself. He had often before +had this sense of physical joy in his own body, but he had never +felt so fond of himself, of his own body, as at that moment. He +enjoyed the slight ache in his strong leg, he enjoyed the +muscular sensation of movement in his chest as he breathed. The +bright, cold August day, which had made Anna feel so hopeless, +seemed to him keenly stimulating, and refreshed his face and neck +that still tingled from the cold water. The scent of +brilliantine on his whiskers struck him as particularly pleasant +in the fresh air. Everything he saw from the carriage window, +everything in that cold pure air, in the pale light of the +sunset, was as fresh, and gay, and strong as he was himself: the +roofs of the houses shining in the rays of the setting sun, the +sharp outlines of fences and angles of buildings, the figures of +passers-by, the carriages that met him now and then, the +motionless green of the trees and grass, the fields with evenly +drawn furrows of potatoes, and the slanting shadows that fell +from the houses, and trees, and bushes, and even from the rows of +potatoes--everything was bright like a pretty landscape just +finished and freshly varnished. + +"Get on, get on!" he said to the driver, putting his head out of +the window, and pulling a three-rouble note out of his pocket he +handed it to the man as he looked round. The driver's hand +fumbled with something at the lamp, the whip cracked, and the +carriage rolled rapidly along the smooth highroad. + +"I want nothing, nothing but this happiness," he thought, +staring at the bone button of the bell in the space between the +windows, and picturing to himself Anna just as he had seen her +last time. "And as I go on, I love her more and more. Here's +the garden of the Vrede Villa. Whereabouts will she be? Where? +How? Why did she fix on this place to meet me, and why does she +write in Betsy's letter?" he thought, wondering now for the first +time at it. But there was now no time for wonder. He called to +the driver to stop before reaching the avenue, and opening the +door, jumped out of the carriage as it was moving, and went into +the avenue that led up to the house. There was no one in the +avenue; but looking round to the right he caught sight of her. +Her face was hidden by a veil, but he drank in with glad eyes the +special movement in walking, peculiar to her alone, the slope of +the shoulders, and the setting of the head, and at once a sort of +electric shock ran all over him. With fresh force, he felt +conscious of himself from the springy motions of his legs to the +movements of his lungs as he breathed, and something set his lips +twitching. + +Joining him, she pressed his hand tightly. + +"You're not angry that I sent for you? I absolutely had to see +you," she said; and the serious and set line of her lips, which +he saw under the veil, transformed his mood at once. + +"I angry! But how have you come, where from?" + +"Never mind," she said, laying her hand on his, "come along, I +must talk to you." + +He saw that something had happened, and that the interview would +not be a joyous one. In her presence he had no will of his own: +without knowing the grounds of her distress, he already felt the +same distress unconsciously passing over him. + +"What is it? what?" he asked her, squeezing her hand with his +elbow, and trying to read her thoughts in her face. + +She walked on a few steps in silence, gathering up her courage; +then suddenly she stopped. + +"I did not tell you yesterday," she began, breathing quickly and +painfully, "that coming home with Alexey Alexandrovitch I told +him everything...told him I could not be his wife, that...and +told him everything." + +He heard her, unconsciously bending his whole figure down to her +as though hoping in this way to soften the hardness of her +position for her. But directly she had said this he suddenly +drew himself up, and a proud and hard expression came over his +face. + +"Yes, yes, that's better, a thousand times better! I know how +painful it was," he said. But she was not listening to his +words, she was reading his thoughts from the expression of his +face. She could not guess that that expression arose from the +first idea that presented itself to Vronsky--that a duel was now +inevitable. The idea of a duel had never crossed her mind, and +so she put a different interpretation on this passing expression +of hardness. + +When she got her husband's letter, she knew then at the bottom of +her heart that everything would go on in the old way, that she +would not have the strength of will to forego her position, to +abandon her son, and to join her lover. The morning spent at +Princess Tverskaya's had confirmed her still more in this. But +this interview was still of the utmost gravity for her. She +hoped that this interview would transform her position, and save +her. If on hearing this news he were to say to her resolutely, +passionately, without an instant's wavering: "Throw up everything +and come with me!" she would give up her son and go away with +him. But this news had not produced what she had expected in +him; he simply seemed as though he were resenting some affront. + +"It was not in the least painful to me. It happened of itself," +she said irritably; "and see..." she pulled her husband's letter +out of her glove. + +"I understand, I understand," he interrupted her, taking the +letter, but not reading it, and trying to soothe her. "The one +thing I longed for, the one thing I prayed for, was to cut +short this position, so as to devote my life to your happiness." + +"Why do you tell me that?" she said. "Do you suppose I can doubt +it? If I doubted..." + +"Who's that coming?" said Vronsky suddenly, pointing to two +ladies walking towards them. "Perhaps they know us!" and he +hurriedly turned off, drawing her after him into a side path. + +"Oh, I don't care!" she said. Her lips were quivering. And he +fancied that her eyes looked with strange fury at him from under +the veil. "I tell you that's not the point--I can't doubt that; +but see what he writes to me. Read it." She stood still again. + +Again, just as at the first moment of hearing of her rupture with +her husband, Vronsky, on reading the letter, was unconsciously +carried away by the natural sensation aroused in him by his own +relation to the betrayed husband. Now while he held his letter +in his hands, he could not help picturing the challenge, which he +would most likely find at home today or tomorrow, and the duel +itself, in which, with the same cold and haughty expression that +his face was assuming at this moment he would await the injured +husband's shot, after having himself fired into the air. And at +that instant there flashed across his mind the thought of what +Serpuhovskoy had just said to him, and what he had himself been +thinking in the morning--that it was better not to bind himself +--and he knew that this thought he could not tell her. + +Having read the letter, he raised his eyes to her, and there was +no determination in them. She saw at once that he had been +thinking about it before by himself. She knew that whatever he +might say to her, he would not say all he thought. And she knew +that her last hope had failed her. This was not what she had +been reckoning on. + +"You see the sort of man he is," she said, with a shaking voice; +"he..." + +"Forgive me, but I rejoice at it," Vronsky interrupted. "For +God's sake, let me finish!" he added, his eyes imploring her to +give him time to explain his words. "I rejoice, because things +cannot, cannot possibly remain as he supposes." + +"Why can't they?" Anna said, restraining her tears, and obviously +attaching no sort of consequence to what he said. She felt that +her fate was sealed. + +Vronsky meant that after the duel--inevitable, he thought-- +things could not go on as before, but he said something +different. + +"It can't go on. I hope that now you will leave him. I hope"-- +he was confused, and reddened--"that you will let me arrange and +plan our life. Tomorrow..." he was beginning. + +She did not let him go on. + +"But my child!" she shrieked. "You see what he writes! I should +have to leave him, and I can't and won't do that." + +"But, for God's sake, which is better?--leave your child, or +keep up this degrading position?" + +"To whom is it degrading?" + +"To all, and most of all to you." + +"You say degrading...don't say that. Those words have no meaning +for me," she said in a shaking voice. She did not want him now +to say what was untrue. She had nothing left her but his love, +and she wanted to love him. "Don't you understand that from the +day I loved you everything has changed for me? For me there is +one thing, and one thing only--your love. If that's mine, I +feel so exalted, so strong, that nothing can be humiliating to +me. I am proud of my position, because...proud of being... +proud...." She could not say what she was proud of. Tears of +shame and despair choked her utterance. She stood still and +sobbed. + +He felt, too, something swelling in his throat and twitching in +his nose, and for the first time in his life he felt on the point +of weeping. He could not have said exactly what it was touched +him so. He felt sorry for her, and he felt he could not help +her, and with that he knew that he was to blame for her +wretchedness, and that he had done something wrong. + +"Is not a divorce possible?" he said feebly. She shook her head, +not answering. "Couldn't you take your son, and still leave +him?" + +"Yes; but it all depends on him. Now I must go to him," she +said shortly. Her presentiment that all would again go on in the +old way had not deceived her. + +"On Tuesday I shall be in Petersburg, and everything can be +settled." + +"Yes," she said. "But don't let us talk any more of it." + +Anna's carriage, which she had sent away, and ordered to come +back to the little gate of the Vrede garden, drove up. Anna said +good-bye to Vronsky, and drove home. + + + +Chapter 23 + + +On Monday there was the usual sitting of the Commission of the +2nd of June. Alexey Alexandrovitch walked into the hall where +the sitting was held, greeted the members and the president, as +usual, and sat down in his place, putting his hand on the papers +laid ready before him. Among these papers lay the necessary +evidence and a rough outline of the speech he intended to make. +But he did not really need these documents. He remembered every +point, and did not think it necessary to go over in his memory +what he would say. He knew that when the time came, and when he +saw his enemy facing him, and studiously endeavoring to assume an +expression of indifference, his speech would flow of itself +better than he could prepare it now. He felt that the import of +his speech was of such magnitude that every word of it would have +weight. Meantime, as he listened to the usual report, he had the +most innocent and inoffensive air. No one, looking at his white +hands, with their swollen veins and long fingers, so softly +stroking the edges of the white paper that lay before him, and at +the air of weariness with which his head drooped on one side, +would have suspected that in a few minutes a torrent of words +would flow from his lips that would arouse a fearful storm, set +the members shouting and attacking one another, and force the +president to call for order. When the report was over, Alexey +Alexandrovitch announced in his subdued, delicate voice that he +had several points to bring before the meeting in regard to the +Commission for the Reorganization of the Native Tribes. All +attention was turned upon him. Alexey Alexandrovitch cleared his +throat, and not looking at his opponent, but selecting, as he +always did while he was delivering his speeches, the first person +sitting opposite him, an inoffensive little old man, who never +had an opinion of any sort in the Commission, began to expound +his views. When he reached the point about the fundamental and +radical law, his opponent jumped up and began to protest. +Stremov, who was also a member of the Commission, and also stung +to the quick, began defending himself, and altogether a stormy +sitting followed; but Alexey Alexandrovitch triumphed, and his +motion was carried, three new commissions were appointed, and the +next day in a certain Petersburg circle nothing else was talked +of but this sitting. Alexey Alexandrovitch's success had been +even greater than he had anticipated. + +Next morning, Tuesday, Alexey Alexandrovitch, on waking up, +recollected with pleasure his triumph of the previous day, and he +could not help smiling, though he tried to appear indifferent, +when the chief secretary of his department, anxious to flatter +him, informed him of the rumors that had reached him concerning +what had happened in the Commission. + +Absorbed in business with the chief secretary, Alexey +Alexandrovitch had completely forgotten that it was Tuesday, the +day fixed by him for the return of Anna Arkadyevna, and he was +surprised and received a shock of annoyance when a servant came +in to inform him of her arrival. + +Anna had arrived in Petersburg early in the morning; the carriage +had been sent to meet her in accordance with her telegram, and so +Alexey Alexandrovitch might have known of her arrival. But when +she arrived, he did not meet her. She was told that he had not +yet gone out, but was busy with his secretary. She sent word to +her husband that she had come, went to her own room, and occupied +herself in sorting out her things, expecting he would come to +her. But an hour passed; he did not come. She went into the +dining room on the pretext of giving some directions, and spoke +loudly on purpose, expecting him to come out there; but he did +not come, though she heard him go to the door of his study as he +parted from the chief secretary. She knew that he usually went +out quickly to his office, and she wanted to see him before that, +so that their attitude to one another might be defined. + +She walked across the drawing room and went resolutely to him. +When she went into his study he was in official uniform, +obviously ready to go out, sitting at a little table on which he +rested his elbows, looking dejectedly before him. She saw him +before he saw her, and she saw that he was thinking of her. + +On seeing her, he would have risen, but changed his mind, then +his face flushed hotly--a thing Anna had never seen before, and +he got up quickly and went to meet her, looking not at her eyes, +but above them at her forehead and hair. He went up to her, took +her by the hand, and asked her to sit down. + +"I am very glad you have come," he said, sitting down beside her, +and obviously wishing to say something, he stuttered. Several +times he tried to begin to speak, but stopped. In spite of the +fact that, preparing herself for meeting him, she had schooled +herself to despise and reproach him, she did not know what to say +to him, and she felt sorry for him. And so the silence lasted +for some time. "Is Seryozha quite well?" he said, and not +waiting for an answer, he added: "I shan't be dining at home +today, and I have got to go out directly." + +"I had thought of going to Moscow," she said. + +"No, you did quite, quite right to come," he said, and was silent +again. + +Seeing that he was powerless to begin the conversation, she began +herself. + +"Alexey Alexandrovitch," she said, looking at him and not +dropping her eyes under his persistent gaze at her hair, "I'm a +guilty woman, I'm a bad woman, but I am the same as I was, as I +told you then, and I have come to tell you that I can change +nothing." + +"I have asked you no question about that," he said, all at once, +resolutely and with hatred looking her straight in the face; +"that was as I had supposed." Under the influence of anger he +apparently regained complete possession of all his faculties. +"But as I told you then, and have written to you," he said in a +thin, shrill voice, "I repeat now, that I am not bound to know +this. I ignore it. Not all wives are so kind as you, to be in +such a hurry to communicate such agreeable news to their +husbands." He laid special emphasis on the word "agreeable." "I +shall ignore it so long as the world knows nothing of it, so long +as my name is not disgraced. And so I simply inform you that +our relations must be just as they have always been, and that +only in the event of your compromising me I shall be obliged to +take steps to secure my honor." + +"But our relations cannot be the same as always," Anna began in a +timid voice, looking at him with dismay. + +When she saw once more those composed gestures, heard that +shrill, childish, and sarcastic voice, her aversion for him +extinguished her pity for him, and she felt only afraid, but at +all costs she wanted to make clear her position. + +"I cannot be your wife while I..." she began. + +He laughed a cold and malignant laugh. + +"The manner of life you have chosen is reflected, I suppose, in +your ideas. I have too much respect or contempt, or both...I +respect your past and despise your present...that I was far from +the interpretation you put on my words." + +Anna sighed and bowed her head. + +"Though indeed I fail to comprehend how, with the independence +you show," he went on, getting hot, "--announcing your infidelity +to your husband and seeing nothing reprehensible in it, +apparently--you can see anything reprehensible in performing a +wife's duties in relation to your husband." + +"Alexey Alexandrovitch! What is it you want of me?" + +"I want you not to meet that man here, and to conduct yourself so +that neither the world nor the servants can reproach you...not to +see him. That's not much, I think. And in return you will enjoy +all the privileges of a faithful wife without fulfilling her +duties. That's all I have to say to you. Now it's time for me +to go. I'm not dining at home." He got up and moved towards the +door. + +Anna got up too. Bowing in silence, he let her pass before him. + + + +Chapter 24 + + +The night spent by Levin on the haycock did not pass without +result for him. The way in which he had been managing his land +revolted him and had lost all attraction for him. In spite of +the magnificent harvest, never had there been, or, at least, +never it seemed to him, had there been so many hindrances and so +many quarrels between him and the peasants as that year, and the +origin of these failures and this hostility was now perfectly +comprehensible to him. The delight he had experienced in the +work itself, and the consequent greater intimacy with the +peasants, the envy he felt of them, of their life, the desire to +adopt that life, which had been to him that night not a dream but +an intention, the execution of which he had thought out in detail +--all this had so transformed his view of the farming of the land +as he had managed it, that he could not take his former interest +in it, and could not help seeing that unpleasant relation between +him and the workpeople which was the foundation of it all. The +herd of improved cows such as Pava, the whole land ploughed over +and enriched, the nine level fields surrounded with hedges, the +two hundred and forty acres heavily manured, the seed sown in +drills, and all the rest of it--it was all splendid if only the +work had been done for themselves, or for themselves and comrades +--people in sympathy with them. But he saw clearly now (his work +on a book of agriculture, in which the chief element in husbandry +was to have been the laborer, greatly assisted him in this) that +the sort of farming he was carrying on was nothing but a cruel +and stubborn struggle between him and the laborers, in which +there was on one side--his side--a continual intense effort to +change everything to a pattern he considered better; on the other +side, the natural order of things. And in this struggle he saw +that with immense expenditure of force on his side, and with no +effort or even intention on the other side, all that was attained +was that the work did not go to the liking of either side, and +that splendid tools, splendid cattle and land were spoiled with +no good to anyone. Worst of all, the energy expended on this +work was not simply wasted. He could not help feeling now, since +the meaning of this system had become clear to him, that the aim +of his energy was a most unworthy one. In reality, what was the +struggle about? He was struggling for every farthing of his +share (and he could not help it, for he had only to relax his +efforts, and he would not have had the money to pay his laborers' +wages), while they were only struggling to be able to do their +work easily and agreeably, that is to say, as they were used to +doing it. It was for his interests that every laborer should +work as hard as possible, and that while doing so he should keep +his wits about him, so as to try not to break the winnowing +machines, the horse rakes, the thrashing machines, that he should +attend to what he was doing. What the laborer wanted was to work +as pleasantly as possible, with rests, and above all, carelessly +and heedlessly, without thinking. That summer Levin saw this at +every step. He sent the men to mow some clover for hay, picking +out the worst patches where the clover was overgrown with grass +and weeds and of no use for seed; again and again they mowed the +best acres of clover, justifying themselves by the pretense that +the bailiff had told them to, and trying to pacify him with the +assurance that it would be splendid hay; but he knew that it was +owing to those acres being so much easier to mow. He sent out a +hay machine for pitching the hay--it was broken at the first row +because it was dull work for a peasant to sit on the seat in +front with the great wings waving above him. And he was told, +"Don't trouble, your honor, sure, the womenfolks will pitch it +quick enough." The ploughs were practically useless, because it +never occurred to the laborer to raise the share when he turned +the plough, and forcing it round, he strained the horses and tore +up the ground, and Levin was begged not to mind about it. The +horses were allowed to stray into the wheat because not a single +laborer would consent to be night-watchman, and in spite of +orders to the contrary, the laborers insisted on taking turns for +night duty, and Ivan, after working all day long, fell asleep, +and was very penitent for his fault, saying, "Do what you will to +me, your honor." + +They killed three of the best calves by letting them into the +clover aftermath without care as to their drinking, and nothing +would make the men believe that they had been blown out by the +clover, but they told him, by way of consolation, that one of his +neighbors had lost a hundred and twelve head of cattle in three +days. All this happened, not because anyone felt ill-will to +Levin or his farm; on the contrary, he knew that they liked him, +thought him a simple gentleman (their highest praise); but it +happened simply because all they wanted was to work merrily and +carelessly, and his interests were not only remote and +incomprehensible to them, but fatally opposed to their most just +claims. Long before, Levin had felt dissatisfaction with his own +position in regard to the land. He saw where his boat leaked, +but he did not look for the leak, perhaps purposely deceiving +himself. (Nothing would be left him if he lost faith in it.) But +now he could deceive himself no longer. The farming of the land, +as he was managing it, had become not merely unattractive but +revolting to him, and he could take no further interest in it. + +To this now was joined the presence, only twenty-five miles off, +of Kitty Shtcherbatskaya, whom he longed to see and could not +see. Darya Alexandrovna Oblonskaya had invited him, when he was +over there, to come; to come with the object of renewing his +offer to her sister, who would, so she gave him to understand, +accept him now. Levin himself had felt on seeing Kitty +Shtcherbatskaya that he had never ceased to love her; but he +could not go over to the Oblonskys', knowing she was there. The +fact that he had made her an offer, and she had refused him, +had placed an insuperable barrier between her and him. "I can't +ask her to be my wife merely because she can't be the wife of the +man she wanted to marry," he said to himself. The thought of +this made him cold and hostile to her. "I should not be able to +speak to her without a feeling of reproach; I could not look at +her without resentment; and she will only hate me all the more, +as she's bound to. And besides, how can I now, after what Darya +Alexandrovna told me, go to see them? Can I help showing that I +know what she told me? And me to go magnanimously to forgive +her, and have pity on her! Me go through a performance before +her of forgiving, and deigning to bestow my love on her!... What +induced Darya Alexandrovna to tell me that? By chance I might +have seen her, then everything would have happened of itself; +but, as it is, it's out of the question, out of the question!" + +Darya Alexandrovna sent him a letter, asking him for a +side-saddle for Kitty's use. "I'm told you have a side-saddle," +she wrote to him; "I hope you will bring it over yourself." + +This was more than he could stand. How could a woman of any +intelligence, of any delicacy, put her sister in such a +humiliating position! He wrote ten notes, and tore them all up, +and sent the saddle without any reply. To write that he would go +was impossible, because he could not go; to write that he could +not come because something prevented him, or that he would be +away, that was still worse. He sent the saddle without an +answer, and with a sense of having done something shameful; he +handed over all the now revolting business of the estate to the +bailiff, and set off next day to a remote district to see his +friend Sviazhsky, who had splendid marshes for grouse in his +neighborhood, and had lately written to ask him to keep a +long-standing promise to stay with him. The grouse-marsh, in the +Surovsky district, had long tempted Levin, but he had continually +put off this visit on account of his work on the estate. Now he +was glad to get away from the neighborhood of the Shtcherbatskys, +and still more from his farm work, especially on a shooting +expedition, which always in trouble served as the best +consolation. + + + +Chapter 25 + + +In the Surovsky district there was no railway nor service of +post horses, and Levin drove there with his own horses in his +big, old-fashioned carriage. + +He stopped halfway at a well-to-do peasant's to feed his horses. +A bald, well-preserved old man, with a broad, red beard, gray on +his cheeks, opened the gate, squeezing against the gatepost to +let the three horses pass. Directing the coachman to a place +under the shed in the big, clean, tidy yard, with charred, +old-fashioned ploughs in it, the old man asked Levin to come into +the parlor. A cleanly dressed young woman, with clogs on her +bare feet, was scrubbing the floor in the new outer room. She +was frightened of the dog, that ran in after Levin, and uttered a +shriek, but began laughing at her own fright at once when she was +told the dog would not hurt her. Pointing Levin with her bare +arm to the door into the parlor, she bent down again, hiding her +handsome face, and went on scrubbing. + +"Would you like the samovar?" she asked. + +"Yes, please." + +The parlor was a big room, with a Dutch stove, and a screen +dividing it into two. Under the holy pictures stood a table +painted in patterns, a bench, and two chairs. Near the entrance +was a dresser full of crockery. The shutters were closed, there +were few flies, and it was so clean that Levin was anxious that +Laska, who had been running along the road and bathing in +puddles, should not muddy the floor, and ordered her to a place +in the corner by the door. After looking round the parlor, Levin +went out in the back yard. The good-looking young woman in +clogs, swinging the empty pails on the yoke, ran on before him to +the well for water. + +"Look sharp, my girl!" the old man shouted after her, +good-humoredly, and he went up to Levin. "Well, sir, are you +going to Nikolay Ivanovitch Sviazhsky? His honor comes to us +too," he began, chatting, leaning his elbows on the railing of +the steps. In the middle of the old man's account of his +acquaintance with Sviazhsky, the gates creaked again, and +laborers came into the yard from the fields, with wooden ploughs +and harrows. The horses harnessed to the ploughs and harrows +were sleek and fat. The laborers were obviously of the +household: two were young men in cotton shirts and caps, the two +others were hired laborers in homespun shirts, one an old man, +the other a young fellow. Moving off from the steps, the old man +went up to the horses and began unharnessing them. + +"What have they been ploughing?" asked Levin. + +"Ploughing up the potatoes. We rent a bit of land too. Fedot, +don't let out the gelding, but take it to the trough, and we'll +put the other in harness." + +"Oh, father, the ploughshares I ordered, has he brought them +along?" asked the big, healthy-looking fellow, obviously the old +man's son. + +"There...in the outer room," answered the old man, bundling +together the harness he had taken off, and flinging it on the +ground. "You can put them on, while they have dinner." + +The good-looking young woman came into the outer room with the +full pails dragging at her shoulders. More women came on the +scene from somewhere, young and handsome, middle-aged, old and +ugly, with children and without children. + +The samovar was beginning to sing; the laborers and the family, +having disposed of the horses, came in to dinner. Levin, getting +his provisions out of his carriage, invited the old man to take +tea with him. + +"Well, I have had some today already," said the old man, +obviously accepting the invitation with pleasure. "But just a +glass for company." + +Over their tea Levin heard all about the old man's farming. Ten +years before, the old man had rented three hundred acres from the +lady who owned them, and a year ago he had bought them and rented +another three hundred from a neighboring landowner. A small part +of the land--the worst part--he let out for rent, while a +hundred acres of arable land he cultivated himself with his +family and two hired laborers. The old man complained that +things were doing badly. But Levin saw that he simply did so +from a feeling of propriety, and that his farm was in a +flourishing condition. If it had been unsuccessful he would not +have bought land at thirty-five roubles the acre, he would not +have married his three sons and a nephew, he would not have +rebuilt twice after fires, and each time on a larger scale. In +spite of the old man's complaints, it was evident that he was +proud, and justly proud, of his prosperity, proud of his sons, +his nephew, his sons' wives, his horses and his cows, and +especially of the fact that he was keeping all this farming +going. From his conversation with the old man, Levin thought he +was not averse to new methods either. He had planted a great +many potatoes, and his potatoes, as Levin had seen driving past, +were already past flowering and beginning to die down, while +Levin's were only just coming into flower. He earthed up his +potatoes with a modern plough borrowed from a neighboring +landowner. He sowed wheat. The trifling fact that, thinning out +his rye, the old man used the rye he thinned out for his horses, +specially struck Levin. How many times had Levin seen this +splendid fodder wasted, and tried to get it saved; but always it +had turned out to be impossible. The peasant got this done, and +he could not say enough in praise of it as food for the beasts. + +"What have the wenches to do? They carry it out in bundles to +the roadside, and the cart brings it away." + +"Well, we landowners can't manage well with our laborers," said +Levin, handing him a glass of tea. + +"Thank you," said the old man, and he took the glass, but refused +sugar, pointing to a lump he had left. "They're simple +destruction," said he. "Look at Sviazhsky's, for instance. We +know what the land's like--first-rate, yet there's not much of a +crop to boast of. It's not looked after enough--that's all it +is!" + +"But you work your land with hired laborers?" + +"We're all peasants together. We go into everything ourselves. +If a man's no use, he can go, and we can manage by ourselves." + +"Father, Finogen wants some tar," said the young woman in the +clogs, coming in. + +"Yes, yes, that's how it is, sir!" said the old man, getting up, +and crossing himself deliberately, he thanked Levin and went out. + +When Levin went into the kitchen to call his coachman he saw the +whole family at dinner. The women were standing up waiting on +them. The young, sturdy-looking son was telling something funny +with his mouth full of pudding, and they were all laughing, the +woman in the clogs, who was pouring cabbage soup into a bowl, +laughing most merrily of all. + +Very probably the good-looking face of the young woman in the +clogs had a good deal to do with the impression of well-being this +peasant household made upon Levin, but the impression was so +strong that Levin could never get rid of it. And all the way +from the old peasant's to Sviazhsky's he kept recalling this +peasant farm as though there were something in this impression +that demanded his special attention. + + + +Chapter 26 + + +Sviazhsky was the marshal of his district. He was five years +older than Levin, and had long been married. His sister-in-law, +a young girl Levin liked very much, lived in his house; and Levin +knew that Sviazhsky and his wife would have greatly liked to +marry the girl to him. He knew this with certainty, as so-called +eligible young men always know it, though he could never have +brought himself to speak of it to anyone; and he knew too that, +although he wanted to get married, and although by every token +this very attractive girl would make an excellent wife, he could +no more have married her, even if he had not been in love with +Kitty Shtcherbatskaya, than he could have flown up to the sky. +And this knowledge poisoned the pleasure he had hoped to find in +the visit to Sviazhsky. + +On getting Sviazhsky's letter with the invitation for shooting, +Levin had immediately thought of this; but in spite of it he had +made up his mind that Sviazhsky's having such views for him was +simply his own groundless supposition, and so he would go, all +the same. Besides, at the bottom of his heart he had a desire to +try himself, put himself to the test in regard to this girl. The +Sviazhskys' home-life was exceedingly pleasant, and Sviazhsky +himself, the best type of man taking part in local affairs that +Levin knew, was very interesting to him. + +Sviazhsky was one of those people, always a source of wonder to +Levin, whose convictions, very logical though never original, go +one way by themselves, while their life, exceedingly definite and +firm in its direction, goes its way quite apart and almost always +in direct contradiction to their convictions. Sviazhsky was an +extremely advanced man. He despised the nobility, and believed +the mass of the nobility to be secretly in favor of serfdom, and +only concealing their views from cowardice. He regarded Russia +as a ruined country, rather after the style of Turkey, and the +government of Russia as so bad that he never permitted himself to +criticize its doings seriously, and yet he was a functionary of +that government and a model marshal of nobility, and when he +drove about he always wore the cockade of office and the cap with +the red band. He considered human life only tolerable abroad, +and went abroad to stay at every opportunity, and at the same +time he carried on a complex and improved system of agriculture +in Russia, and with extreme interest followed everything and knew +everything that was being done in Russia. He considered the +Russian peasant as occupying a stage of development intermediate +between the ape and the man, and at the same time in the local +assemblies no one was readier to shake hands with the peasants +and listen to their opinion. He believed neither in God nor the +devil, but was much concerned about the question of the +improvement of the clergy and the maintenance of their revenues, +and took special trouble to keep up the church in his village. + +On the woman question he was on the side of the extreme advocates +of complete liberty for women, and especially their right to +labor. But he lived with his wife on such terms that their +affectionate childless home life was the admiration of everyone, +and arranged his wife's life so that she did nothing and could do +nothing but share her husband's efforts that her time should pass +as happily and as agreeably as possible. + +If it had not been a characteristic of Levin's to put the most +favorable interpretation on people, Sviazhsky's character would +have presented no doubt or difficulty to him: he would have said +to himself, "a fool or a knave," and everything would have seemed +clear. But he could not say "a fool," because Sviazhsky was +unmistakably clever, and moreover, a highly cultivated man, who +was exceptionally modest over his culture. There was not a +subject he knew nothing of. But he did not display his knowledge +except when he was compelled to do so. Still less could Levin +say that he was a knave, as Sviazhsky was unmistakably an honest, +good-hearted, sensible man, who worked good-humoredly, keenly, +and perseveringly at his work; he was held in high honor by +everyone about him, and certainly he had never consciously done, +and was indeed incapable of doing, anything base. + +Levin tried to understand him, and could not understand him, and +looked at him and his life as at a living enigma. + +Levin and he were very friendly, and so Levin used to venture to +sound Sviazhsky, to try to get at the very foundation of his view +of life; but it was always in vain. Every time Levin tried to +penetrate beyond the outer chambers of Sviazhsky's mind, which +were hospitably open to all, he noticed that Sviazhsky was +slightly disconcerted; faint signs of alarm were visible in his +eyes, as though he were afraid Levin would understand him, and he +would give him a kindly, good-humored repulse. + +Just now, since his disenchantment with farming, Levin was +particularly glad to stay with Sviazhsky. Apart from the fact +that the sight of this happy and affectionate couple, so pleased +with themselves and everyone else, and their well-ordered home +had always a cheering effect on Levin, he felt a longing, now +that he was so dissatisfied with his own life, to get at that +secret in Sviazhsky that gave him such clearness, definiteness, +and good courage in life. Moreover, Levin knew that at +Sviazhsky's he should meet the landowners of the neighborhood, +and it was particularly interesting for him just now to hear and +take part in those rural conversations concerning crops, +laborers' wages, and so on, which, he was aware, are +conventionally regarded as something very low, but which seemed +to him just now to constitute the one subject of importance. "It +was not, perhaps, of importance in the days of serfdom, and it +may not be of importance in England. In both cases the +conditions of agriculture are firmly established; but among us +now, when everything has been turned upside down and is only just +taking shape, the question what form these conditions will take +is the one question of importance in Russia," thought Levin. + +The shooting turned out to be worse than Levin had expected. The +marsh was dry and there were no grouse at all. He walked about +the whole day and only brought back three birds, but to make up +for that--he brought back, as he always did from shooting, an +excellent appetite, excellent spirits, and that keen, +intellectual mood which with him always accompanied violent +physical exertion. And while out shooting, when he seemed to be +thinking of nothing at all, suddenly the old man and his family +kept coming back to his mind, and the impression of them seemed +to claim not merely his attention, but the solution of some +question connected with them. + +In the evening at tea, two landowners who had come about some +business connected with a wardship were of the party, and the +interesting conversation Levin had been looking forward to sprang +up. + +Levin was sitting beside his hostess at the tea table, and was +obliged to keep up a conversation with her and her sister, who +was sitting opposite him. Madame Sviazhskaya was a round-faced, +fair-haired, rather short woman, all smiles and dimples. Levin +tried through her to get a solution of the weighty enigma her +husband presented to his mind; but he had not complete freedom of +ideas, because he was in an agony of embarrassment. This agony +of embarrassment was due to the fact that the sister-in-law was +sitting opposite to him, in a dress, specially put on, as he +fancied, for his benefit, cut particularly open, in the shape of +a trapeze, on her white bosom. This quadrangular opening, in +spite of the bosom's being very white, or just because it was +very white, deprived Levin of the full use of his faculties. He +imagined, probably mistakenly, that this low-necked bodice had +been made on his account, and felt that he had no right to look +at it, and tried not to look at it; but he felt that he was to +blame for the very fact of the low-necked bodice having been +made. It seemed to Levin that he had deceived someone, that he +ought to explain something, but that to explain it was +impossible, and for that reason he was continually blushing, was +ill at ease and awkward. His awkwardness infected the pretty +sister-in-law too. But their hostess appeared not to observe +this, and kept purposely drawing her into the conversation. + +"You say," she said, pursuing the subject that had been started, +"that my husband cannot be interested in what's Russian. It's +quite the contrary; he is always in cheerful spirits abroad, but +not as he is here. Here, he feels in his proper place. He has +so much to do, and he has the faculty of interesting himself in +everything. Oh, you've not been to see our school, have you?" + +"I've seen it.... The little house covered with ivy, isn't it?" + +"Yes; that's Nastia's work," she said, indicating her sister. + +"You teach in it yourself?" asked Levin, trying to look above the +open neck, but feeling that wherever he looked in that direction +he should see it. + +"Yes; I used to teach in it myself, and do teach still, but we +have a first-rate schoolmistress now. And we've started +gymnastic exercises." + +"No, thank you, I won't have any more tea," said Levin, and +conscious of doing a rude thing, but incapable of continuing the +conversation, he got up, blushing. "I hear a very interesting +conversation," he added, and walked to the other end of the +table, where Sviazhsky was sitting with the two gentlemen of the +neighborhood. Sviazhsky was sitting sideways, with one elbow on +the table, and a cup in one hand, while with the other hand he +gathered up his beard, held it to his nose and let it drop again, +as though he were smelling it. His brilliant black eyes were +looking straight at the excited country gentleman with gray +whiskers, and apparently he derived amusement from his remarks. +The gentleman was complaining of the peasants. It was evident to +Levin that Sviazhsky knew an answer to this gentleman's +complaints, which would at once demolish his whole contention, +but that in his position he could not give utterance to this +answer, and listened, not without pleasure, to the landowner's +comic speeches. + +The gentleman with the gray whiskers was obviously an inveterate +adherent of serfdom and a devoted agriculturist, who had lived +all his life in the country. Levin saw proofs of this in his +dress, in the old-fashioned threadbare coat, obviously not his +everyday attire, in his shrewd, deep-set eyes, in his idiomatic, +fluent Russian, in the imperious tone that had become habitual +from long use, and in the resolute gestures of his large, red, +sunburnt hands, with an old betrothal ring on the little finger. + + + +Chapter 27 + + +"If I'd only the heart to throw up what's been set going...such a +lot of trouble wasted...I'd turn my back on the whole business, +sell up, go off like Nikolay Ivanovitch...to hear _La Belle +Helene_," said the landowner, a pleasant smile lighting up his +shrewd old face. + +"But you see you don't throw it up," said Nikolay Ivanovitch +Sviazhsky; "so there must be something gained." + +"The only gain is that I live in my own house, neither bought +nor hired. Besides, one keeps hoping the people will learn +sense. Though, instead of that, you'd never believe it--the +drunkenness, the immorality! They keep chopping and changing +their bits of land. Not a sight of a horse or a cow. The +peasant's dying of hunger, but just go and take him on as a +laborer, he'll do his best to do you a mischief, and then bring +you up before the justice of the peace." + +"But then you make complaints to the justice too," said +Sviazhsky. + +"I lodge complaints? Not for anything in the world! Such a +talking, and such a to-do, that one would have cause to regret +it. At the works, for instance, they pocketed the advance-money +and made off. What did the justice do? Why, acquitted them. +Nothing keeps them in order but their own communal court and +their village elder. He'll flog them in the good old style! But +for that there'd be nothing for it but to give it all up and run +away." + +Obviously the landowner was chaffing Sviazhsky, who, far from +resenting it, was apparently amused by it. + +"But you see we manage our land without such extreme measures," +said he, smiling: "Levin and I and this gentleman." + +He indicated the other landowner. + +"Yes, the thing's done at Mihail Petrovitch's, but ask him how +it's done. Do you call that a rational system?" said the +landowner, obviously rather proud of the word "rational." + +"My system's very simple," said Mihail Petrovitch, "thank God. +All my management rests on getting the money ready for the autumn +taxes, and the peasants come to me, 'Father, master, help us!' +Well, the peasants are all one's neighbors; one feels for them. +So one advances them a third, but one says: 'Remember, lads, I +have helped you, and you must help me when I need it--whether +it's the sowing of the oats, or the haycutting, or the harvest'; +and well, one agrees, so much for each taxpayer--though there +are dishonest ones among them too, it's true." + +Levin, who had long been familiar with these patriarchal methods, +exchanged glances with Sviazhsky and interrupted Mihail +Petrovitch, turning again to the gentleman with the gray +whiskers. + +"Then what do you think?" he asked; "what system is one to adopt +nowadays?" + +"Why, manage like Mihail Petrovitch, or let the land for half the +crop or for rent to the peasants; that one can do--only that's +just how the general prosperity of the country is being ruined. +Where the land with serf-labor and good management gave a yield +of nine to one, on the half-crop system it yields three to one. +Russia has been ruined by the emancipation!" + +Sviazhsky looked with smiling eyes at Levin, and even made a +faint gesture of irony to him; but Levin did not think the +landowner's words absurd, he understood them better than he did +Sviazhsky. A great deal more of what the gentleman with the gray +whiskers said to show in what way Russia was ruined by the +emancipation struck him indeed as very true, new to him, and +quite incontestable. The landowner unmistakably spoke his own +individual thought--a thing that very rarely happens--and a +thought to which he had been brought not by a desire of finding +some exercise for an idle brain, but a thought which had grown up +out of the conditions of his life, which he had brooded over in +the solitude of his village, and had considered in every aspect. + +"The point is, don't you see, that progress of every sort is only +made by the use of authority," he said, evidently wishing to show +he was not without culture. "Take the reforms of Peter, of +Catherine, of Alexander. Take European history. And progress in +agriculture more than anything else--the potato, for instance, +that was introduced among us by force. The wooden plough too +wasn't always used. It was introduced maybe in the days before +the Empire, but it was probably brought in by force. Now, in our +own day, we landowners in the serf times used various +improvements in our husbandry: drying machines and thrashing +machines, and carting manure and all the modern implements--all +that we brought into use by our authority, and the peasants +opposed it at first, and ended by imitating us. Now, by the +abolition of serfdom we have been deprived of our authority; and +so our husbandry, where it had been raised to a high level, is +bound to sink to the most savage primitive condition. That's how +I see it." + +"But why so? If it's rational, you'll be able to keep up the +same system with hired labor," said Sviazhsky. + +"We've no power over them. With whom am I going to work the +system, allow me to ask?" + +"There it is--the labor force--the chief element in +agriculture," thought Levin. + +"With laborers." + +"The laborers won't work well, and won't work with good +implements. Our laborer can do nothing but get drunk like a pig, +and when he's drunk he ruins everything you give him. He makes +the horses ill with too much water, cuts good harness, barters +the tires of the wheels for drink, drops bits of iron into the +thrashing machine, so as to break it. He loathes the sight of +anything that's not after his fashion. And that's how it is the +whole level of husbandry has fallen. Lands gone out of +cultivation, overgrown with weeds, or divided among the peasants, +and where millions of bushels were raised you get a hundred +thousand; the wealth of the country has decreased. If the same +thing had been done, but with care that..." + +And he proceeded to unfold his own scheme of emancipation by +means of which these drawbacks might have been avoided. + +This did not interest Levin, but when he had finished, Levin went +back to his first position, and, addressing Sviazhsky, and trying +to draw him into expressing his serious opinion:-- + +"That the standard of culture is falling, and that with our +present relations to the peasants there is no possibility of +farming on a rational system to yield a profit--that's perfectly +true," said he. + +"I don't believe it," Sviazhsky replied quite seriously; "all I +see is that we don't know how to cultivate the land, and that our +system of agriculture in the serf days was by no means too high, +but too low. We have no machines, no good stock, no efficient +supervision; we don't even know how to keep accounts. Ask any +landowner; he won't be able to tell you what crop's profitable, +and what's not." + +"Italian bookkeeping," said the gentleman of the gray whiskers +ironically. "You may keep your books as you like, but if they +spoil everything for you, there won't be any profit." + +"Why do they spoil things? A poor thrashing machine, or your +Russian presser, they will break, but my steam press they don't +break. A wretched Russian nag they'll ruin, but keep good +dray-horses--they won't ruin them. And so it is all round. We +must raise our farming to a higher level." + +"Oh, if one only had the means to do it, Nikolay Ivanovitch! +It's all very well for you; but for me, with a son to keep at the +university, lads to be educated at the high school--how am I +going to buy these dray-horses?" + +"Well, that's what the land banks are for." + +"To get what's left me sold by auction? No, thank you." + +"I don't agree that it's necessary or possible to raise the level +of agriculture still higher," said Levin. "I devote myself to +it, and I have means, but I can do nothing. As to the banks, I +don't know to whom they're any good. For my part, anyway, +whatever I've spent money on in the way of husbandry, it has been +a loss: stock--a loss, machinery--a loss." + +"That's true enough," the gentleman with the gray whiskers chimed +in, positively laughing with satisfaction. + +"And I'm not the only one," pursued Levin. "I mix with all the +neighboring landowners, who are cultivating their land on a +rational system; they all, with rare exceptions, are doing so at +a loss. Come, tell us how does your land do--does it pay?" said +Levin, and at once in Sviazhsky's eyes he detected that fleeting +expression of alarm which he had noticed whenever he had tried to +penetrate beyond the outer chambers of Sviazhsky's mind. + +Moreover, this question on Levin's part was not quite in good +faith. Madame Sviazhskaya had just told him at tea that they had +that summer invited a German expert in bookkeeping from Moscow, +who for a consideration of five hundred roubles had investigated +the management of their property, and found that it was costing +them a loss of three thousand odd roubles. She did not remember +the precise sum, but it appeared that the German had worked it +out to the fraction of a farthing. + +The gray-whiskered landowner smiled at the mention of the profits +of Sviazhsky's famling, obviously aware how much gain his +neighbor and marshal was likely to be making. + +"Possibly it does not pay," answered Sviazhsky. "That merely +proves either that I'm a bad manager, or that I've sunk my +capital for the increase of my rents." + +"Oh, rent!" Levin cried with horror. "Rent there may be in +Europe, where land has been improved by the labor put into it, +but with us all the land is deteriorating from the labor put into +it--in other words they're working it out; so there's no +question of rent." + +"How no rent? It's a law." + +"Then we're outside the law; rent explains nothing for us, but +simply muddles us. No, tell me how there can be a theory of +rent?..." + +"Will you have some junket? Masha, pass us some junket or +raspberries." He turned to his wife. "Extraordinarily late the +raspberries are lasting this year." + +And in the happiest frame of mind Sviazhsky got up and walked +off, apparently supposing the conversation to have ended at the +very point when to Levin it seemed that it was only just +beginning. + +Having lost his antagonist, Levin continued the conversation with +the gray-whiskered landowner, trying to prove to him that all the +difficulty arises from the fact that we don't find out the +peculiarities and habits of our laborer; but the landowner, like +all men who think independently and in isolation, was slow in +taking in any other person's idea, and particularly partial to +his own. He stuck to it that the Russian peasant is a swine and +likes swinishness, and that to get him out of his swinishness one +must have authority, and there is none; one must have the stick, +and we have become so liberal that we have all of a sudden +replaced the stick that served us for a thousand years by lawyers +and model prisons, where the worthless, stinking peasant is fed +on good soup and has a fixed allowance of cubic feet of air. + +"What makes you think," said Levin, trying to get back to the +question, "that it's impossible to find some relation to the +laborer in which the labor would become productive?" + +"That never could be so with the Russian peasantry; we've no +power over them," answered the landowner. + +"How can new conditions be found?" said Sviazhsky. Having eaten +some junket and lighted a cigarette, he came back to the +discussion. "All possible relations to the labor force have been +defined and studied," he said. "The relic of barbarism, the +primitive commune with each guarantee for all, will disappear of +itself; serfdom has been abolished--there remains nothing but +free labor, and its forms are fixed and ready made, and must be +adopted. Permanent hands, day-laborers, rammers--you can't get +out of those forms." + +"But Europe is dissatisfied with these forms." + +"Dissatisfied, and seeking new ones. And will find them, in all +probability." + +"That's just what I was meaning," answered Levin. "Why +shouldn't we seek them for ourselves?" + +"Because it would be just like inventing afresh the means for +constructing railways. They are ready, invented." + +"But if they don't do for us, if they're stupid?" said Levin. + +And again he detected the expression of alarm in the eyes of +Sviazhsky. + +"Oh, yes; we'll bury the world under our caps! We've found the +secret Europe was seeking for! I've heard all that; but, excuse +me, do you know all that's been done in Europe on the question of +the organization of labor?" + +"No, very little." + +"That question is now absorbing the best minds in Europe. The +Schulze-Delitsch movement.... And then all this enormous +literature of the labor question, the most liberal Lassalle +movement...the Mulhausen experiment? That's a fact by now, as +you're probably aware." + +"I have some idea of it, but very vague." + +"No, you only say that; no doubt you know all about it as well as +I do. I'm not a professor of sociology, of course, but it +interested me, and really, if it interests you, you ought to +study it." + +"But what conclusion have they come to?" + +"Excuse me..." + +The two neighbors had risen, and Sviazhsky, once more checking +Levin in his inconvenient habit of peeping into what was beyond +the outer chambers of his mind, went to see his guests out. + + + +Chapter 28 + + +Levin was insufferably bored that evening with the ladies; he was +stirred as he had never been before by the idea that the +dissatisfaction he was feeling with his system of managing his +land was not an exceptional case, but the general condition of +things in Russia; that the organization of some relation of the +laborers to the soil in which they would work, as with the +peasant he had met half-way to the Sviazhskys', was not a dream, +but a problem which must be solved. And it seemed to him that +the problem could be solved, and that he ought to try and solve +it. + +After saying good-night to the ladies, and promising to stay the +whole of the next day, so as to make an expedition on horseback +with them to see an interesting ruin in the crown forest, Levin +went, before going to bed, into his host's study to get the books +on the labor question that Sviazhsky had offered him. +Sviazhsky's study was a huge room, surrounded by bookcases and +with two tables in it--one a massive writing table, standing in +the middle of the room, and the other a round table, covered with +recent numbers of reviews and journals in different languages, +ranged like the rays of a star round the lamp. On the writing +table was a stand of drawers marked with gold lettering, and full +of papers of various sorts. + +Sviazhsky took out the books, and sat down in a rocking-chair. + +"What are you looking at there?" he said to Levin, who was +standing at the round table looking through the reviews. + +"Oh, yes, there's a very interesting article here," said +Sviazhsky of the review Levin was holding in his hand. "It +appears," he went on, with eager interest, "that Friedrich was +not, after all, the person chiefly responsible for the partition +of Poland. It is proved..." + +And with his characteristic clearness, he summed up those new, +very important, and interesting revelations. Although Levin was +engrossed at the moment by his ideas about the problem of the +land, he wondered, as he heard Sviazhsky: "What is there inside +of him? And why, why is he interested in the partition of +Poland?" When Sviazhsky had finished, Levin could not help +asking: "Well, and what then?" But there was nothing to follow. +It was simply interesting that it had been proved to be so and +so. But Sviazhsky did not explain, and saw no need to explain +why it was interesting to him. + +"Yes, but I was very much interested by your irritable neighbor," +said Levin, sighing. "He's a clever fellow, and said a lot that +was true." + +"Oh, get along with you! An inveterate supporter of serfdom at +heart, like all of them!" said Sviazhsky. + +"Whose marshal you are." + +"Yes, only I marshal them in the other direction," said +Sviazhsky, laughing. + +"I'll tell you what interests me very much," said Levin. "He's +right that our system, that's to say of rational farming, doesn't +answer, that the only thing that answers is the money-lender +system, like that meek-looking gentleman's, or else the very +simplest.... Whose fault is it?" + +"Our own, of course. Besides, it's not true that it doesn't +answer. It answers with Vassiltchikov." + +"A factory..." + +"But I really don't know what it is you are surprised at. The +people are at such a low stage of rational and moral development, +that it's obvious they're bound to oppose everything that's +strange to them. In Europe, a rational system answers because +the people are educated; it follows that we must educate the +people--that's all." + +"But how are we to educate the people?" + +"To educate the people three things are needed: schools, and +schools, and schools. + +"But you said yourself the people are at such a low stage of +material development: what help are schools for that?" + +"Do you know, you remind me of the story of the advice given to +the sick man--You should try purgative medicine. Taken: worse. +Try leeches. Tried them: worse. Well, then, there's nothing +left but to pray to God. Tried it: worse. That's just how it is +with us. I say political economy; you say--worse. I say +socialism: worse. Education: worse." + +"But how do schools help matters?" + +"They give the peasant fresh wants." + +"Well, that's a thing I've never understood," Levin replied with +heat. "In what way are schools going to help the people to +improve their material position? You say schools, education, +will give them fresh wants. So much the worse, since they won't +be capable of satisfying them. And in what way a knowledge of +addition and subtraction and the catechism is going to improve +their material condition, I never could make out. The day +before yesterday, I met a peasant woman in the evening with a +little baby, and asked her where she was going. She said she was +going to the wise woman; her boy had screaming fits, so she was +taking him to be doctored. I asked, 'Why, how does the wise +woman cure screaming fits?' 'She puts the child on the hen-roost +and repeats some charm....' " + +"Well, you're saying it yourself! What's wanted to prevent her +taking her child to the hen-roost to cure it of screaming fits is +just..." Sviazhsky said, smiling good-humoredly. + +"Oh, no!" said Levin with annoyance; "that method of doctoring I +merely meant as a simile for doctoring the people with schools. +The people are poor and ignorant--that we see as surely as the +peasant woman sees the baby is ill because it screams. But in +what way this trouble of poverty and ignorance is to be cured by +schools is as incomprehensible as how the hen-roost affects the +screaming. What has to be cured is what makes him poor." + +"Well, in that, at least, you're in agreement with Spencer, whom +you dislike so much. He says, too, that education may be the +consequence of greater prosperity and comfort, of more frequent +washing, as he says, but not of being able to read and write..." + +"Well, then, I'm very glad--or the contrary, very sorry, that +I'm in agreement with Spencer; only I've known it a long while. +Schools can do no good; what will do good is an economic +organization in which the people will become richer, will have +more leisure--and then there will be schools." + +"Still, all over Europe now schools are obligatory." + +"And how far do you agree with Spencer yourself about it?" asked +Levin. + +But there was a gleam of alarm in Sviazhsky's eyes, and he said +smiling: + +"No; that screaming story is positively capital! Did you really +hear it yourself?" + +Levin saw that he was not to discover the connection between this +man's life and his thoughts. Obviously he did not care in the +least what his reasoning led him to; all he wanted was the +process of reasoning. And he did not like it when the process of +reasoning brought him into a blind alley. That was the only +thing he disliked, and avoided by changing the conversation to +something agreeable and amusing. + +All the impressions of the day, beginning with the impression +made by the old peasant, which served, as it were, as the +fundamental basis of all the conceptions and ideas of the day, +threw Levin into violent excitement. This dear good Sviazhsky, +keeping a stock of ideas simply for social purposes, and +obviously having some other principles hidden from Levin, while +with the crowd, whose name is legion, he guided public opinion by +ideas he did not share; that irascible country gentleman, +perfectly correct in the conclusions that he had been worried +into by life, but wrong in his exasperation against a whole +class, and that the best class in Russia; his own dissatisfaction +with the work he had been doing, and the vague hope of finding a +remedy for all this--all was blended in a sense of inward +turmoil, and anticipation of some solution near at hand. + +Left alone in the room assigned him, lying on a spring mattress +that yielded unexpectedly at every movement of his arm or his +leg, Levin did not fall asleep for a long while. Not one +conversation with Sviazhsky, though he had said a great deal that +was clever, had interested Levin; but the conclusions of the +irascible landowner required consideration. Levin could not help +recalling every word he had said, and in imagination amending his +own replies. + +"Yes, I ought to have said to him: You say that our husbandry +does not answer because the peasant hates improvements, and that +they must be forced on him by authority. If no system of +husbandry answered at all without these improvements, you would +be quite right. But the only system that does answer is where +laborer is working in accordance with his habits, just as on the +old peasant's land half-way here. Your and our general +dissatisfaction with the system shows that either we are to blame +or the laborers. We have gone our way--the European way--a +long while, without asking ourselves about the qualities of our +labor force. Let us try to look upon the labor force not as an +abstract force, but as the _Russian peasant_ with his instincts, +and we shall arrange our system of culture in accordance with +that. Imagine, I ought to have said to him, that you have the +same system as the old peasant has, that you have found means of +making your laborers take an interest in the success of the work, +and have found the happy mean in the way of improvements which +they will admit, and you will, without exhausting the soil, get +twice or three times the yield you got before. Divide it in +halves, give half as the share of labor, the surplus left you +will be greater, and the share of labor will be greater too. And +to do this one must lower the standard of husbandry and interest +the laborers in its success. How to do this?--that's a matter +of detail; but undoubtedly it can be done." + +This idea threw Levin into a great excitement. He did not sleep +half the night, thinking over in detail the putting of his idea +into practice. He had not intended to go away next day, but he +now determined to go home early in the morning. Besides, the +sister-in-law with her low-necked bodice aroused in him a feeling +akin to shame and remorse for some utterly base action. Most +important of all--he must get back without delay: he would have +to make haste to put his new project to the peasants before the +sowing of the winter wheat, so that the sowing might be +undertaken on a new basis. He had made up his mind to +revolutionize his whole system. + + + +Chapter 29 + + +The carrying out of Levin's plan presented many difficulties; but +he struggled on, doing his utmost, and attained a result which, +though not what he desired, was enough to enable him, without +self-deception, to believe that the attempt was worth the +trouble. One of the chief difficulties was that the process of +cultivating the land was in full swing, that it was impossible to +stop everything and begin it all again from the beginning, and +the machine had to be mended while in motion. + +When on the evening that he arrived home he informed the bailiff +of his plans, the latter with visible pleasure agreed with what +he said so long as he was pointing out that all that had been +done up to that time was stupid and useless. The bailiff said +that he had said so a long while ago, but no heed had been paid +him. But as for the proposal made by Levin--to take a part as +shareholder with his laborers in each agricultural undertaking-- +at this the bailiff simply expressed a profound despondency, and +offered no definite opinion, but began immediately talking of the +urgent necessity of carrying the remaining sheaves of rye the +next day, and of sending the men out for the second ploughing, so +that Levin felt that this was not the time for discussing it. + +On beginning to talk to the peasants about it, and making a +proposition to cede them the land on new terms, he came into +collision with the same great difficulty that they were so much +absorbed by the current work of the day, that they had not time +to consider the advantages and disadvantages of the proposed +scheme. + +The simple-hearted Ivan, the cowherd, seemed completely to grasp +Levin's proposal--that he should with his family take a share of +the profits of the cattle-yard--and he was in complete sympathy +with the plan. But when Levin hinted at the future advantages, +Ivan's face expressed alarm and regret that he could not hear all +he had to say, and he made haste to find himself some task that +would admit of no delay: he either snatched up the fork to pitch +the hay out of the pens, or ran to get water or to clear out the +dung. + +Another difficulty lay in the invincible disbelief of the peasant +that a landowner's object could be anything else than a desire to +squeeze all he could out of them. They were firmly convinced +that his real aim (whatever he might say to them) would always be +in what he did not say to them. And they themselves, in giving +their opinion, said a great deal but never said what was their +real object. Moreover (Levin felt that the irascible landowner +had been right) the peasants made their first and unalterable +condition of any agreement whatever that they should not be +forced to any new methods of tillage of any kind, nor to use new +implements. They agreed that the modern plough ploughed better, +that the scarifier did the work more quickly, but they found +thousands of reasons that made it out of the question for them to +use either of them; and though he had accepted the conviction +that he would have to lower the standard of cultivation, he felt +sorry to give up improved methods, the advantages of which were +so obvious. But in spite of all these difficulties he got his +way, and by autumn the system was working, or at least so it +seemed to him. + +At first Levin had thought of giving up the whole farming of the +land just as it was to the peasants, the laborers, and the +bailiff on new conditions of partnership; but he was very soon +convinced that this was impossible, and determined to divide it +up. The cattle-yard, the garden, hay fields, and arable land, +divided into several parts, had to be made into separate lots. +The simple-hearted cowherd, Ivan, who, Levin fancied, understood +the matter better than any of them, collecting together a gang of +workers to help him, principally of his own family, became a +partner in the cattle-yard. A distant part of the estate, a +tract of waste land that had lain fallow for eight years, was +with the help of the clever carpenter, Fyodor Ryezunov, taken by +six families of peasants on new conditions of partnership, and +the peasant Shuraev took the management of all the vegetable +gardens on the same terms. The remainder of the land was still +worked on the old system, but these three associated partnerships +were the first step to a new organization of the whole, and they +completely took up Levin's time. + +It is true that in the cattle-yard things went no better than +before, and Ivan strenuously opposed warm housing for the cows +and butter made of fresh cream, affirming that cows require less +food if kept cold, and that butter is more profitable made from +sour cream, and he asked for wages just as under the old system, +and took not the slightest interest in the fact that the money he +received was not wages but an advance out of his future share in +the profits. + +It is true that Fyodor Ryezunov's company did not plough over the +ground twice before sowing, as had been agreed, justifying +themselves on the plea that the time was too short. It is true +that the peasants of the same company, though they had agreed to +work the land on new conditions, always spoke of the land, not as +held in partnership, but as rented for half the crop, and more +than once the peasants and Ryezunov himself said to Levin, "If +you would take a rent for the land, it would save you trouble, +and we should be more free." Moreover the same peasants kept +putting off, on various excuses, the building of a cattleyard and +barn on the land as agreed upon, and delayed doing it till the +winter. + +It is true that Shuraev would have liked to let out the kitchen +gardens he had undertaken in small lots to the peasants. He +evidently quite misunderstood, and apparently intentionally +misunderstood, the conditions upon which the land had been given +to him. + +Often, too, talking to the peasants and explaining to them all +the advantages of the plan, Levin felt that the peasants heard +nothing but the sound of his voice, and were firmly resolved, +whatever he might say, not to let themselves be taken in. He +felt this especially when he talked to the cleverest of the +peasants, Ryezunov, and detected the gleam in Ryezunov's eyes +which showed so plainly both ironical amusement at Levin, and the +firm conviction that, if any one were to be taken in, it would +not be he, Ryezunov. But in spite of all this Levin thought the +system worked, and that by keeping accounts strictly and +insisting on his own way, he would prove to them in the future +the advantages of the arrangement, and then the system would go +of itself. + +These matters, together with the management of the land still +left on his hands, and the indoor work over his book, so +engrossed Levin the whole summer that he scarcely ever went out +shooting. At the end of August he heard that the Oblonskys had +gone away to Moscow, from their servant who brought back the +side-saddle. He felt that in not answering Darya Alexandrovna's +letter he had by his rudeness, of which he could not think +without a flush of shame, burned his ships, and that he would +never go and see them again. He had been just as rude with the +Sviazhskys, leaving them without saying good-bye. But he would +never go to see them again either. He did not care about that +now. The business of reorganizing the farming of his land +absorbed him as completely as though there would never be +anything else in his life. He read the books lent him by +Sviazhsky, and copying out what he had not got, he read both the +economic and socialistic books on the subject, but, as he had +anticipated, found nothing bearing on the scheme he had +undertaken. In the books on political economy--in Mill, for +instance, whom he studied first with great ardor, hoping every +minute to find an answer to the questions that were engrossing +him--he found laws deduced from the condition of land culture in +Europe; but he did not see why these laws, which did not apply in +Russia, must be general. He saw just the same thing in the +socialistic books: either they were the beautiful but +impracticable fantasies which had fascinated him when he was a +student, or they were attempts at improving, rectifying the +economic position in which Europe was placed, with which the +system of land tenure in Russia had nothing in common. Political +economy told him that the laws by which the wealth of Europe had +been developed, and was developing, were universal and unvarying. +Socialism told him that development along these lines leads to +ruin. And neither of them gave an answer, or even a hint, in +reply to the question what he, Levin, and all the Russian +peasants and landowners, were to do with their millions of hands +and millions of acres, to make them as productive as possible for +the common weal. + +Having once taken the subject up, he read conscientiously +everything bearing on it, and intended in the autumn to go abroad +to study land systems on the spot, in order that he might not on +this question be confronted with what so often met him on various +subjects. Often, just as he was beginning to understand the idea +in the mind of anyone he was talking to, and was beginning to +explain his own, he would suddenly be told: "But Kauffmann, but +Jones, but Dubois, but Michelli? You haven't read them: they've +thrashed that question out thoroughly." + +He saw now distinctly that Kauffmann and Michelli had nothing to +tell him. He knew what he wanted. He saw that Russia has +splendid land, splendid laborers, and that in certain cases, as +at the peasant's on the way to Sviazhsky's, the produce raised by +the laborers and the land is great--in the majority of cases +when capital is applied in the European way the produce is small, +and that this simply arises from the fact that the laborers want +to work and work well only in their own peculiar way, and that +this antagonism is not incidental but invariable, and has its +roots in the national spirit. He thought that the Russian people +whose task it was to colonize and cultivate vast tracts of +unoccupied land, consciously adhered, till all their land was +occupied, to the methods suitable to their purpose, and that +their methods were by no means so bad as was generally supposed. +And he wanted to prove this theoretically in his book and +practically on his land. + + + +Chapter 30 + + +At the end of September the timber had been carted for building +the cattleyard on the land that had been allotted to the +association of peasants, and the butter from the cows was sold +and the profits divided. In practice the system worked +capitally, or, at least, so it seemed to Levin. In order to work +out the whole subject theoretically and to complete his book, +which, in Levin's daydreams, was not merely to effect a +revolution in political economy, but to annihilate that science +entirely and to lay the foundation of a new science of the +relation of the people to the soil, all that was left to do was +to make a tour abroad, and to study on the spot all that had been +done in the same direction, and to collect conclusive evidence +that all that had been done there was not what was wanted. Levin +was only waiting for the delivery of his wheat to receive the +money for it and go abroad. But the rains began, preventing the +harvesting of the corn and potatoes left in the fields, and +putting a stop to all work, even to the delivery of the wheat. + +The mud was impassable along the roads; two mills were carried +away, and the weather got worse and worse. + +On the 30th of September the sun came out in the morning, and +hoping for fine weather, Levin began making final preparations +for his journey. He gave orders for the wheat to be delivered, +sent the bailiff to the merchant to get the money owing him, and +went out himself to give some final directions on the estate +before setting off. + +Having finished all his business, soaked through with the streams +of water which kept running down the leather behind his neck and +his gaiters, but in the keenest and most confident temper, Levin +returned homewards in the evening. The weather had become worse +than ever towards evening; the hail lashed the drenched mare so +cruelly that she went along sideways, shaking her head and ears; +but Levin was all right under his hood, and he looked cheerfully +about him at the muddy streams running under the wheels, at the +drops hanging on every bare twig, at the whiteness of the patch +of unmelted hailstones on the planks of the bridge, at the thick +layer of still juicy, fleshy leaves that lay heaped up about the +stripped elm-tree. In spite of the gloominess of nature around +him, he felt peculiarly eager. The talks he had been having with +the peasants in the further village had shown that they were +beginning to get used to their new position. The old servant to +whose hut he had gone to get dry evidently approved of Levin's +plan, and of his own accord proposed to enter the partnership by +the purchase of cattle. + +"I have only to go stubbornly on towards my aim, and I shall +attain my end," thought Levin; "and it's something to work and +take trouble for. This is not a matter of myself individually; +the question of the public welfare comes into it. The whole +system of culture, the chief element in the condition of the +people, must be completely transformed. Instead of poverty, +general prosperity and content; instead of hostility, harmony and +unity of interests. In short, a bloodless revolution, but a +revolution of the greatest magnitude, beginning in the little +circle of our district, then the province, then Russia, the whole +world. Because a just idea cannot but be fruitful. Yes, it's an +aim worth working for. And its being me, Kostya Levin, who went +to a ball in a black tie, and was refused by the Shtcherbatskaya +girl, and who was intrinsically such a pitiful, worthless +creature--that proves nothing; I feel sure Franklin felt just as +worthless, and he too had no faith in himself, thinking of +himself as a whole. That means nothing. And he too, most +likely, had an Agafea Mihalovna to whom he confided his secrets." + +Musing on such thoughts Levin reached home in the darkness. + +The bailiff, who had been to the merchant, had come back and +brought part of the money for the wheat. An agreement had been +made with the old servant, and on the road the bailiff had +learned that everywhere the corn was still standing in the +fields, so that his one hundred and sixty shocks that had not +been carried were nothing in comparison with the losses of +others. + +After dinner Levin was sitting, as he usually did, in an +easy chair with a book, and as he read he went on thinking of the +journey before him in connection with his book. Today all the +significance of his book rose before him with special +distinctness, and whole periods ranged themselves in his mind in +illustration of his theories. "I must write that down," he +thought. "That ought to form a brief introduction, which I +thought unnecessary before." He got up to go to his writing +table, and Laska, lying at his feet, got up too, stretching and +looking at him as though to inquire where to go. But he had not +time to write it down, for the head peasants had come round, and +Levin went out into the hall to them. + +After his levee, that is to say, giving directions about the +labors of the next day, and seeing all the peasants who had +business with him, Levin went back to his study and sat down to +work. + +Laska lay under the table; Agafea Mihalovna settled herself in +her place with her stocking. + +After writing for a little while, Levin suddenly thought with +exceptional vividness of Kitty, her refusal, and their last +meeting. He got up and began walking about the room. + +"What's the use of being dreary?" said Agafea Mihalovna. "Come, +why do you stay on at home? You ought to go to some warm +springs, especially now you're ready for the journey." + +"Well, I am going away the day after tomorrow, Agafea Mihalovna; +I must finish my work." + +"There, there, your work, you say! As if you hadn't done enough +for the peasants! Why, as 'tis, they're saying, 'Your master +will be getting some honor from the Tsar for it.' Indeed and it +is a strange thing; why need you worry about the peasants?" + +"I'm not worrying about them; I'm doing it for my own good." + +Agafea Mihalovna knew every detail of Levin's plans for his land. +Levin often put his views before her in all their complexity, and +not uncommonly he argued with her and did not agree with her +comments. But on this occasion she entirely misinterpreted what +he had said. + +"Of one's soul's salvation we all know and must think before all +else," she said with a sigh. "Parfen Denisitch now, for all he +was no scholar, he died a death that God grant every one of us +the like," she said, referring to a servant who had died +recently. "Took the sacrament and all." + +"That's not what I mean," said he. "I mean that I'm acting for +my own advantage. It's all the better for me if the peasants do +their work better." + +"Well, whatever you do, if he's a lazy good-for-nought, +everything'll be at sixes and sevens. If he has a conscience, +he'll work, and if not, there's no doing anything." + +"Oh, come, you say yourself Ivan has begun looking after the +cattle better." + +"All I say is," answered Agafea Mihalovna, evidently not speaking +at random, but in strict sequence of idea, "that you ought to get +married, that's what I say." + +Agafea Mihalovna's allusion to the very subject he had only just +been thinking about, hurt and stung him. Levin scowled, and +without answering her, he sat down again to his work, repeating +to himself all that he had been thinking of the real significance +of that work. Only at intervals he listened in the stillness to +the click of Agafea Mihalovna's needles, and recollecting what he +did not want to remember, he frowned again. + +At nine o'clock they heard the bell and the faint vibration of a +carriage over the mud. + +"Well, here's visitors come to us, and you won't be dull," said +Agafea Mihalovna, getting up and going to the door. But Levin +overtook her. His work was not going well now, and he was glad +of a visitor, whoever it might be. + + + +Chapter 31 + + +Running halfway down the staircase, Levin caught a sound he +knew, a familiar cough in the hall. But he heard it indistinctly +through the sound of his own footsteps, and hoped he was +mistaken. Then he caught sight of a long, bony, familiar figure, +and now it seemed there was no possibility of mistake; and yet he +still went on hoping that this tall man taking off his fur cloak +and coughing was not his brother Nikolay. + +Levin loved his brother, but being with him was always a torture. +Just now, when Levin, under the influence of the thoughts that +had come to him, and Agafea Mihalovna's hint, was in a troubled +and uncertain humor, the meeting with his brother that he had to +face seemed particularly difficult. Instead of a lively, healthy +visitor, some outsider who would, he hoped, cheer him up in his +uncertain humor, he had to see his brother, who knew him through +and through, who would call forth all the thoughts nearest his +heart, would force him to show himself fully. And that he was +not disposed to do. + +Angry with himself for so base a feeling, Levin ran into the +hall; as soon as he had seen his brother close, this feeling of +selfish disappointment vanished instantly and was replaced by +pity. Terrible as his brother Nikolay had been before in his +emaciation and sickliness, now he looked still more emaciated, +still more wasted. He was a skeleton covered with skin. + +He stood in the hall, jerking his long thin neck, and pulling the +scarf off it, and smiled a strange and pitiful smile. When he +saw that smile, submissive and humble, Levin felt something +clutching at his throat. + +"You see, I've come to you," said Nikolay in a thick voice, never +for one second taking his eyes off his brother's face. "I've +been meaning to a long while, but I've been unwell all the time. +Now I'm ever so much better," he said, rubbing his beard with his +big thin hands. + +"Yes, yes!" answered Levin. And he felt still more frightened +when, kissing him, he felt with his lips the dryness of his +brother's skin and saw close to him his big eyes, full of a +strange light. + +A few weeks before, Konstantin Levin had written to his brother +that through the sale of the small part of the property, that had +remained undivided, there was a sum of about two thousand roubles +to come to him as his share. + +Nikolay said that he had come now to take this money and, what +was more important, to stay a while in the old nest, to get in +touch with the earth, so as to renew his strength like the heroes +of old for the work that lay before him. In spite of his +exaggerated stoop, and the emaciation that was so striking from +his height, his movements were as rapid and abrupt as ever. +Levin led him into his study. + +His brother dressed with particular care--a thing he never used +to do--combed his scanty, lank hair, and, smiling, went +upstairs. + +He was in the most affectionate and good-humored mood, just as +Levin often remembered him in childhood. He even referred to +Sergey Ivanovitch without rancor. When he saw Agafea Mihalovna, +he made jokes with her and asked after the old servants. The +news of the death of Parfen Denisitch made a painful impression +on him. A look of fear crossed his face, but he regained his +serenity immediately. + +"Of course he was quite old," he said, and changed the subject. +"Well, I'll spend a month or two with you, and then I'm off to +Moscow. Do you know, Myakov has promised me a place there, and +I'm going into the service. Now I'm going to arrange my life +quite differently," he went on. "You know I got rid of that +woman." + +"Marya Nikolaevna? Why, what for?" + +"Oh, she was a horrid woman! She caused me all sorts of +worries." But he did not say what the annoyances were. He could +not say that he had cast off Marya Nikolaevna because the tea was +weak, and, above all, because she would look after him, as though +he were an invalid. + +"Besides, I want to turn over a new leaf completely now. I've +done silly things, of course, like everyone else, but money's +the last consideration; I don't regret it. So long as there's +health, and my health, thank God, is quite restored." + +Levin listened and racked his brains, but could think of nothing +to say. Nikolay probably felt the same; he began questioning his +brother about his affairs; and Levin was glad to talk about +himself, because then he could speak without hypocrisy. He told +his brother of his plans and his doings. + +His brother listened, but evidently he was not interested by it. + +These two men were so akin, so near each other, that the +slightest gesture, the tone of voice, told both more than could +be said in words. + +Both of them now had only one thought--the illness of Nikolay +and the nearness of his death--which stifled all else. But +neither of them dared to speak of it, and so whatever they said-- +not uttering the one thought that filled their minds--was all +falsehood. Never had Levin been so glad when the evening was +over and it was time to go to bed. Never with any outside +person, never on any official visit had he been so unnatural and +false as he was that evening. And the consciousness of this +unnaturalness, and the remorse he felt at it, made him even +more unnatural. He wanted to weep over his dying, dearly loved +brother, and he had to listen and keep on talking of how he meant +to live. + +As the house was damp, and only one bedroom had been kept heated, +Levin put his brother to sleep in his own bedroom behind a +screen. + +His brother got into bed, and whether he slept or did not sleep, +tossed about like a sick man, coughed, and when he could not get +his throat clear, mumbled something. Sometimes when his +breathing was painful, he said, "Oh, my God!" Sometimes when he +was choking he muttered angrily, "Ah, the devil!" Levin could +not sleep for a long while, hearing him. His thoughts were of +the most various, but the end of all his thoughts was the same-- +death. Death, the inevitable end of all, for the first time +presented itself to him with irresistible force. And death, +which was here in this loved brother, groaning half asleep and +from habit calling without distinction on God and the devil, was +not so remote as it had hitherto seemed to him. It was in +himself too, he felt that. If not today, tomorrow, if not +tomorrow, in thirty years, wasn't it all the same! And what was +this inevitable death--he did not know, had never thought about +it, and what was more, had not the power, had not the courage to +think about it. + +"I work, I want to do something, but I had forgotten it must +all end; I had forgotten--death." + +He sat on his bed in the darkness, crouched up, hugging his +knees, and holding his breath from the strain of thought, he +pondered. But the more intensely he thought, the clearer it +became to him that it was indubitably so, that in reality, +looking upon life, he had forgotten one little fact--that death +will come, and all ends; that nothing was even worth beginning, +and that there was no helping it anyway. Yes, it was awful, but +it was so. + +"But I am alive still. Now what's to be done? what's to be +done?" he said in despair. He lighted a candle, got up +cautiously and went to the looking-glass, and began looking at +his face and hair. Yes, there were gray hairs about his temples. +He opened his mouth. His back teeth were beginning to decay. He +bared his muscular arms. Yes, there was strength in them. But +Nikolay, who lay there breathing with what was left of lungs, had +had a strong, healthy body too. And suddenly he recalled how +they used to go to bed together as children, and how they only +waited till Fyodor Bogdanitch was out of the room to fling +pillows at each other and laugh, laugh irrepressibly, so that +even their awe of Fyodor Bogdanitch could not check the +effervescing, overbrimming sense of life and happiness. "And now +that bent, hollow chest...and I, not knowing what will become of +me, or wherefore..." + +"K...ha! K...ha! Damnation! Why do you keep fidgeting, why +don't you go to sleep?" his brother's voice called to him. + +"Oh, I don't know, I'm not sleepy." + +"I have had a good sleep, I'm not in a sweat now. Just see, feel +my shirt; it's not wet, is it?" + +Levin felt, withdrew behind the screen, and put out the candle, +but for a long while he could not sleep. The question how to +live had hardly begun to grow a little clearer to him, when a +new, insoluble question presented itself--death. + +"Why, he's dying--yes, he'll die in the spring, and how help +him? What can I say to him? What do I know about it? I'd even +forgotten that it was at all." + + + +Chapter 32 + + +Levin had long before made the observation that when one is +uncomfortable with people from their being excessively amenable +and meek, one is apt very soon after to find things intolerable +from their touchiness and irritability. He felt that this was +how it would be with his brother. And his brother Nikolay's +gentleness did in fact not last out for long. The very next +morning he began to be irritable, and seemed doing his best to +find fault with his brother, attacking him on his tenderest +points. + +Levin felt himself to blame, and could not set things right. He +felt that if they had both not kept up appearances, but had +spoken, as it is called, from the heart--that is to say, had +said only just what they were thinking and feeling--they would +simply have looked into each other's faces, and Konstantin could +only have said, "You're dying, you're dying!" and Nikolay could +only have answered, "I know I'm dying, but I'm afraid, I'm +afraid, I'm afraid!" And they could have said nothing more, if +they had said only what was in their hearts. But life like that +was impossible, and so Konstantin tried to do what he had been +trying to do all his life, and never could learn to do, though, +as far as he could observe, many people knew so well how to do +it, and without it there was no living at all. He tried to say +what he was not thinking, but he felt continually that it had a +ring of falsehood, that his brother detected him in it, and was +exasperated at it. + +The third day Nikolay induced his brother to explain his plan to +him again, and began not merely attacking it, but intentionally +confounding it with communism. + +"You've simply borrowed an idea that's not your own, but you've +distorted it, and are trying to apply it where it's not +applicable." + +"But I tell you it's nothing to do with it. They deny the +justice of property, of capital, of inheritance, while I do not +deny this chief stimulus." (Levin felt disgusted himself at +using such expressions, but ever since he had been engrossed by +his work, he had unconsciously come more and more frequently to +use words not Russian.) "All I want is to regulate labor." + +"Which means, you've borrowed an idea, stripped it of all that +gave it its force, and want to make believe that it's something +new," said Nikolay, angrily tugging at his necktie. + +"But my idea has nothing in common..." + +"That, anyway," said Nikolay Levin, with an ironical smile, his +eyes flashing malignantly, "has the charm of--what's one to call +it?--geometrical symmetry, of clearness, of definiteness. It +may be a Utopia. But if once one allows the possibility of +making of all the past a _tabula rasa_--no property, no family-- +then labor would organize itself. But you gain nothing..." + +"Why do you mix things up? I've never been a communist." + +"But I have, and I consider it's premature, but rational, and +it has a future, just like Christianity in its first ages." + +"All that I maintain is that the labor force ought to be +investigated from the point of view of natural science; that is +to say, it ought to be studied, its qualities ascertained..." + +"But that's utter waste of time. That force finds a certain form +of activity of itself, according to the stage of its development. +There have been slaves first everywhere, then metayers; and we +have the half-crop system, rent, and day laborers. What are you +trying to find?" + +Levin suddenly lost his temper at these words, because at the +bottom of his heart he was afraid that it was true--true that he +was trying to hold the balance even between communism and the +familiar forms, and that this was hardly possible. + +"I am trying to find means of working productively for myself and +for the laborers. I want to organize..." he answered hotly. + +"You don't want to organize anything; it's simply just as you've +been all your life, that you want to be original to pose as not +exploiting the peasants simply, but with some idea in view." + +"Oh, all right, that's what you think--and let me alone!" +answered Levin, feeling the muscles of his left cheek twitching +uncontrollably. + +"You've never had, and never have, convictions; all you want is +to please your vanity." + +"Oh, very well; then let me alone!" + +"And I will let you alone! and it's high time I did, and go to +the devil with you! and I'm very sorry I ever came!" + +In spite of all Levin's efforts to soothe his brother afterwards, +Nikolay would listen to nothing he said, declaring that it was +better to part, and Konstantin saw that it simply was that life +was unbearable to him. + +Nikolay was just getting ready to go, when Konstantin went in to +him again and begged him, rather unnaturally, to forgive him if +he had hurt his feelings in any way. + +"Ah, generosity!" said Nikolay, and he smiled. "If you want to +be right, I can give you that satisfaction. You're in the right; +but I'm going all the same." + +It was only just at parting that Nikolay kissed him, and said, +looking with sudden strangeness and seriousness at his brother: + +"Anyway, don't remember evil against me, Kostya!" and his voice +quivered. These were the only words that had been spoken +sincerely between them. Levin knew that those words meant, "You +see, and you know, that I'm in a bad way, and maybe we shall not +see each other again." Levin knew this, and the tears gushed +from his eyes. He kissed his brother once more, but he could not +speak, and knew not what to say. + +Three days after his brother's departure, Levin too set off for +his foreign tour. Happening to meet Shtcherbatsky, Kitty's +cousin, in the railway train, Levin greatly astonished him by his +depression. + +"What's the matter with you?" Shtcherbatsky asked him. + +"Oh, nothing; there's not much happiness in life." + +"Not much? You come with me to Paris instead of to Mulhausen. +You shall see how to be happy." + +"No, I've done with it all. It's time I was dead." + +"Well, that's a good one!" said Shtcherbatsky, laughing; "why, +I'm only just getting ready to begin." + +"Yes, I thought the same not long ago, but now I know I shall +soon be dead." + +Levin said what he had genuinely been thinking of late. He saw +nothing but death or the advance towards death in everything. +But his cherished scheme only engrossed him the more. Life had +to be got through somehow till death did come. Darkness had +fallen upon everything for him; but just because of this darkness +he felt that the one guiding clue in the darkness was his work, +and he clutched it and clung to it with all his strength. + + + + + + +PART 4 + + + + + +Chapter 1 + + +The Karenins, husband and wife, continued living in the same +house, met every day, but were complete strangers to one another. +Alexey Alexandrovitch made it a rule to see his wife every day, +so that the servants might have no grounds for suppositions, but +avoided dining at home. Vronsky was never at Alexey +Alexandrovitch's house, but Anna saw him away from home, and her +husband was aware of it. + +The position was one of misery for all three; and not one of them +would have been equal to enduring this position for a single day, +if it had not been for the expectation that it would change, that +it was merely a temporary painful ordeal which would pass over. +Alexey Alexandrovitch hoped that this passion would pass, as +everything does pass, that everyone would forget about it, and +his name would remain unsullied. Anna, on whom the position +depended, and for whom it was more miserable than for anyone, +endured it because she not merely hoped, but firmly believed, +that it would all very soon be settled and come right. She had +not the least idea what would settle the position, but she firmly +believed that something would very soon turn up now. Vronsky, +against his own will or wishes, followed her lead, hoped too that +something, apart from his own action, would be sure to solve all +difficulties. + +In the middle of the winter Vronsky spent a very tiresome week. +A foreign prince, who had come on a visit to Petersburg, was put +under his charge, and he had to show him the sights worth seeing. +Vronsky was of distinguished appearance; he possessed, moreover, +the art of behaving with respectful dignity, and was used to +having to do with such grand personages--that was how he came to +be put in charge of the prince. But he felt his duties very +irksome. The prince was anxious to miss nothing of which he +would be asked at home, had he seen that in Russia? And on his +own account he was anxious to enjoy to the utmost all Russian +forms of amusement. Vronsky was obliged to be his guide in +satisfying both these inclinations. The mornings they spent +driving to look at places of interest; the evenings they passed +enjoying the national entertainments. The prince rejoiced in +health exceptional even among princes. By gymnastics and careful +attention to his health he had brought himself to such a point +that in spite of his excess in pleasure he looked as fresh as a +big glossy green Dutch cucumber. The prince had traveled a great +deal, and considered one of the chief advantages of modern +facilities of communication was the accessibility of the +pleasures of all nations. + +He had been in Spain, and there had indulged in serenades and had +made friends with a Spanish girl who played the mandolin. In +Switzerland he had killed chamois. In England he had galloped in +a red coat over hedges and killed two hundred pheasants for a +bet. In Turkey he had got into a harem; in India he had hunted +on an elephant, and now in Russia he wished to taste all the +specially Russian forms of pleasure. + +Vronsky, who was, as it were, chief master of the ceremonies to +him, was at great pains to arrange all the Russian amusements +suggested by various persons to the prince. They had race +horses, and Russian pancakes and bear hunts and three-horse +sledges, and gypsies and drinking feasts, with the Russian +accompaniment of broken crockery. And the prince with surprising +ease fell in with the Russian spirit, smashed trays full of +crockery, sat with a gypsy girl on his knee, and seemed to be +asking--what more, and does the whole Russian spirit consist in +just this? + +In reality, of all the Russian entertainments the prince liked +best French actresses and ballet dancers and white-seal +champagne. Vronsky was used to princes, but, either because he +had himself changed of late, or that he was in too close +proximity to the prince, that week seemed fearfully wearisome to +him. The whole of that week he experienced a sensation such as a +man might have set in charge of a dangerous madman, afraid of the +madman, and at the same time, from being with him, fearing for +his own reason. Vronsky was continually conscious of the +necessity of never for a second relaxing the tone of stern +official respectfulness, that he might not himself be insulted. +The prince's manner of treating the very people who, to Vronsky's +surprise, were ready to descend to any depths to provide him with +Russian amusements, was contemptuous. His criticisms of Russian +women, whom he wished to study, more than once made Vronsky +crimson with indignation. The chief reason why the prince was so +particularly disagreeable to Vronsky was that he could not help +seeing himself in him. And what he saw in this mirror did not +gratify his self-esteem. He was a very stupid and very +self-satisfied and very healthy and very well-washed man, and +nothing else. He was a gentleman--that was true, and Vronsky +could not deny it. He was equable and not cringing with his +superiors, was free and ingratiating in his behavior with his +equals, and was contemptuously indulgent with his inferiors. +Vronsky was himself the same, and regarded it as a great merit to +be so. But for this prince he was an inferior, and his +contemptuous and indulgent attitude to him revolted him. + +"Brainless beef! can I be like that?" he thought. + +Be that as it might, when, on the seventh day, he parted from the +prince, who was starting for Moscow, and received his thanks, he +was happy to be rid of his uncomfortable position and the +unpleasant reflection of himself. He said good-bye to him at the +station on their return from a bear hunt, at which they had had a +display of Russian prowess kept up all night. + + + +Chapter 2 + + +When he got home, Vronsky found there a note from Anna. She +wrote, "I am ill and unhappy. I cannot come out, but I cannot go +on longer without seeing you. Come in this evening. Alexey +Alexandrovitch goes to the council at seven and will be there +till ten." Thinking for an instant of the strangeness of her +bidding him come straight to her, in spite of her husband's +insisting on her not receiving him, he decided to go. + +Vronsky had that winter got his promotion, was now a colonel, had +left the regimental quarters, and was living alone. After having +some lunch, he lay down on the sofa immediately, and in five +minutes memories of the hideous scenes he had witnessed during +the last few days were confused together and joined on to a +mental image of Anna and of the peasant who had played an +important part in the bear hunt, and Vronsky fell asleep. He +waked up in the dark, trembling with horror, and made haste to +light a candle. "What was it? What? What was the dreadful +thing I dreamed? Yes, yes; I think a little dirty man with a +disheveled beard was stooping down doing something, and all of a +sudden he began saying some strange words in French. Yes, there +was nothing else in the dream," he said to himself. "But why was +it so awful?" He vividly recalled the peasant again and those +incomprehensible French words the peasant had uttered, and a +chill of horror ran down his spine. + +"What nonsense!" thought Vronsky, and glanced at his watch. + +It was half-past eight already. He rang up his servant, dressed +in haste, and went out onto the steps, completely forgetting the +dream and only worried at being late. As he drove up to the +Karenins' entrance he looked at his watch and saw it was ten +minutes to nine. A high, narrow carriage with a pair of grays +was standing at the entrance. He recognized Anna's carriage. +"She is coming to me," thought Vronsky, "and better she should. +I don't like going into that house. But no matter; I can't hide +myself," he thought, and with that manner peculiar to him from +childhood, as of a man who has nothing to be ashamed of, Vronsky +got out of his sledge and went to the door. The door opened, and +the hall porter with a rug on his arm called the carriage. +Vronsky, though he did not usually notice details, noticed at +this moment the amazed expression with which the porter glanced +at him. In the very doorway Vronsky almost ran up against Alexey +Alexandrovitch. The gas jet threw its full light on the +bloodless, sunken face under the black hat and on the white +cravat, brilliant against the beaver of the coat. Karenin's +fixed, dull eyes were fastened upon Vronsky's face. Vronsky +bowed, and Alexey Alexandrovitch, chewing his lips, lifted his +hand to his hat and went on. Vronsky saw him without looking +round get into the carriage, pick up the rug and the opera-glass +at the window and disappear. Vronsky went into the hall. His +brows were scowling, and his eyes gleamed with a proud and angry +light in them. + +"What a position!" he thought. "If he would fight, would stand +up for his honor, I could act, could express my feelings; but +this weakness or baseness.... He puts me in the position of +playing false, which I never meant and never mean to do." + +Vronsky's ideas had changed since the day of his conversation +with Anna in the Vrede garden. Unconsciously yielding to the +weakness of Anna--who had surrendered herself up to him utterly, +and simply looked to him to decide her fate, ready to submit to +anything--he had long ceased to think that their tie might end +as he had thought then. His ambitious plans had retreated into +the background again, and feeling that he had got out of that +circle of activity in which everything was definite, he had given +himself entirely to his passion, and that passion was binding him +more and more closely to her. + +He was still in the hall when he caught the sound of her +retreating footsteps. He knew she had been expecting him, had +listened for him, and was now going back to the drawing room. + +"No," she cried, on seeing him, and at the first sound of her +voice the tears came into her eyes. "No; if things are to go on +like this, the end will come much, much too soon." + +"What is it, dear one?" + +"What? I've been waiting in agony for an hour, two hours...No, +I won't...I can't quarrel with you. Of course you couldn't +come. No, I won't." She laid her two hands on his shoulders, +and looked a long while at him with a profound, passionate, and +at the same time searching look. She was studying his face to +make up for the time she had not seen him. She was, every time +she saw him, making the picture of him in her imagination +(incomparably superior, impossible in reality) fit with him as he +really was. + + + +Chapter 3 + + +"You met him?" she asked, when they had sat down at the table in +the lamplight. "You're punished, you see, for being late." + +"Yes; but how was it? Wasn't he to be at the council?" + +"He had been and come back, and was going out somewhere again. +But that's no matter. Don't talk about it. Where have you been? +With the prince still?" + +She knew every detail of his existence. He was going to say that +he had been up all night and had dropped asleep, but looking at +her thrilled and rapturous face, he was ashamed. And he said he +had had to go to report on the prince's departure. + +"But it's over now? He is gone?" + +"Thank God it's over! You wouldn't believe how insufferable it's +been for me." + +"Why so? Isn't it the life all of you, all young men, always +lead?" she said, knitting her brows; and taking up the crochet +work that was lying on the table, she began drawing the hook out +of it, without looking at Vronsky. + +"I gave that life up long ago," said he, wondering at the change +in her face, and trying to divine its meaning. "And I confess," +he said, with a smile, showing his thick, white teeth, "this week +I've been, as it were, looking at myself in a glass, seeing that +life, and I didn't like it." + +She held the work in her hands, but did not crochet, and looked +at him with strange, shining, and hostile eyes. + +"This morning Liza came to see me--they're not afraid to call on +me, in spite of the Countess Lidia Ivanovna," she put in--"and +she told me about your Athenian evening. How loathsome!" + +"I was just going to say..." + +She interrupted him. "It was that Therese you used to know?" + +"I was just saying..." + +"How disgusting you are, you men! How is it you can't understand +that a woman can never forget that," she said, getting more and +more angry, and so letting him see the cause of her irritation, +"especially a woman who cannot know your life? What do I know? +What have I ever known?" she said, "what you tell me. And how +do I know whether you tell me the truth?..." + +"Anna, you hurt me. Don't you trust me? Haven't I told you that +I haven't a thought I wouldn't lay bare to you?" + +"Yes, yes," she said, evidently trying to suppress her jealous +thoughts. "But if only you knew how wretched I am! I believe +you, I believe you.... What were you saying?" + +But he could not at once recall what he had been going to say. +These fits of jealousy, which of late had been more and more +frequent with her, horrified him, and however much he tried to +disguise the fact, made him feel cold to her, although he knew +the cause of her jealousy was her love for him. How often he had +told himself that her love was happiness; and now she loved him +as a woman can love when love has outweighed for her all the good +things of life--and he was much further from happiness than when +he had followed her from Moscow. Then he had thought himself +unhappy, but happiness was before him; now he felt that the best +happiness was already left behind. She was utterly unlike what +she had been when he first saw her. Both morally and physically +she had changed for the worse. She had broadened out all over, +and in her face at the time when she was speaking of the actress +there was an evil expression of hatred that distorted it. He +looked at her as a man looks at a faded flower he has gathered, +with difficulty recognizing in it the beauty for which he picked +and ruined it. And in spite of this he felt that then, when his +love was stronger, he could, if he had greatly wished it, have +torn that love out of his heart; but now, when as at that moment +it seemed to him he felt no love for her, he knew that what bound +him to her could not be broken. + +"Well, well, what was it you were going to say about the prince? +I have driven away the fiend," she added. The fiend was the +name they had given her jealousy. "What did you begin to tell me +about the prince? Why did you find it so tiresome?" + +"Oh, it was intolerable!" he said, trying to pick up the thread +of his interrupted thought. "He does not improve on closer +acquaintance. If you want him defined, here he is: a prime, +well-fed beast such as takes medals at the cattle shows, and +nothing more," he said, with a tone of vexation that interested +her. + +"No; how so?" she replied. "He's seen a great deal, anyway; he's +cultured?" + +"It's an utterly different culture--their culture. He's +cultivated, one sees, simply to be able to despise culture, as +they despise everything but animal pleasures." + +"But don't you all care for these animal pleasures?" she said, +and again he noticed a dark look in her eyes that avoided him. + +"How is it you're defending him?" he said, smiling. + +"I'm not defending him, it's nothing to me; but I imagine, if you +had not cared for those pleasures yourself, you might have got +out of them. But if it affords you satisfaction to gaze at +Therese in the attire of Eve..." + +"Again, the devil again," Vronsky said, taking the hand she had +laid on the table and kissing it. + +"Yes; but I can't help it. You don't know what I have suffered +waiting for you. I believe I'm not jealous. I'm not jealous: I +believe you when you're here; but when you're away somewhere +leading your life, so incomprehensible to me..." + +She turned away from him, pulled the hook at last out of the +crochet work, and rapidly, with the help of her forefinger, began +working loop after loop of the wool that was dazzling white in +the lamplight, while the slender wrist moved swiftly, nervously +in the embroidered cuff. + +"How was it, then? Where did you meet Alexey Alexandrovitch?" +Her voice sounded in an unnatural and jarring tone. + +"We ran up against each other in the doorway." + +"And he bowed to you like this?" + +She drew a long face, and half-closing her eyes, quickly +transformed her expression, folded her hands, and Vronsky +suddenly saw in her beautiful face the very expression with which +Alexey Alexandrovitch had bowed to him. He smiled, while she +laughed gaily, with that sweet, deep laugh, which was one of her +greatest charms. + +"I don't understand him in the least," said Vronsky. "If after +your avowal to him at your country house he had broken with you, +if he had called me out--but this I can't understand. How can he +put up with such a position? He feels it, that's evident." + +"He?" she said sneeringly. "He's perfectly satisfied." + +"What are we all miserable for, when everything might be so +happy?" + +"Only not he. Don't I know him, the falsity in which he's +utterly steeped?... Could one, with any feeling, live as he is +living with me? He understands nothing, and feels nothing. +Could a man of any feeling live in the same house with his +unfaithful wife? Could he talk to her, call her 'my dear'?" + +And again she could not help mimicking him: "'Anna, _ma chere_; +Anna, dear'!" + +"He's not a man, not a human being--he's a doll! No one knows +him; but I know him. Oh, if I'd been in his place, I'd long ago +have killed, have torn to pieces a wife like me. I wouldn't +have said, 'Anna, ma chere'! He's not a man, he's an official +machine. He doesn't understand that I'm your wife, that he's +outside, that he's superfluous.... Don't let's talk of him!..." + +"You're unfair, very unfair, dearest," said Vronsky, trying to +soothe her. "But never mind, don't let's talk of him. Tell me +what you've been doing? What is the matter? What has been wrong +with you, and what did the doctor say?" + +She looked at him with mocking amusement. Evidently she had hit +on other absurd and grotesque aspects in her husband and was +awaiting the moment to give expression to them. + +But he went on: + +"I imagine that it's not illness, but your condition. When will +it be?" + +The ironical light died away in her eyes, but a different smile, +a consciousness of something, he did not know what, and of quiet +melancholy, came over her face. + +"Soon, soon. You say that our position is miserable, that we +must put an end to it. If you knew how terrible it is to me, +what I would give to be able to love you freely and boldly! I +should not torture myself and torture you with my jealousy.... +And it will come soon, but not as we expect." + +And at the thought of how it would come, she seemed so pitiable +to herself that tears came into her eyes, and she could not go +on. She laid her hand on his sleeve, dazzling and white with its +rings in the lamplight. + +"It won't come as we suppose. I didn't mean to say this to you, +but you've made me. Soon, soon, all will be over, and we shall +all, all be at peace, and suffer no more." + +"I don't understand," he said, understanding her. + +"You asked when? Soon. And I shan't live through it. Don't +interrupt me!" and she made haste to speak. "I know it; I know +for certain. I shall die; and I'm very glad I shall die, and +release myself and you." + +Tears dropped from her eyes; he bent down over her hand and began +kissing it, trying to hide his emotion, which, he knew, had no +sort of grounds, though he could not control it. + +"Yes, it's better so," she said, tightly gripping his hand. +"That's the only way, the only way left us." + +He had recovered himself, and lifted his head. + +"How absurd! What absurd nonsense you are talking!" + +"No, it's the truth." + +"What, what's the truth?" + +"That I shall die. I have had a dream." + +"A dream?" repeated Vronsky, and instantly he recalled the +peasant of his dream. + +"Yes, a dream," she said. "It's a long while since I dreamed it. +I dreamed that I ran into my bedroom, that I had to get something +there, to find out something; you know how it is in dreams," she +said, her eyes wide with horror; "and in the bedroom, in the +corner, stood something." + +"Oh, what nonsense! How can you believe..." + +But she would not let him interrupt her. What she was saying was +too important to her. + +"And the something turned round, and I saw it was a peasant with +a disheveled beard, little, and dreadful looking. I wanted to +run away, but he bent down over a sack, and was fumbling there +with his hands..." + +She showed how he had moved his hands. There was terror in her +face. And Vronsky, remembering his dream, felt the same terror +filling his soul. + +"He was fumbling and kept talking quickly, quickly in French, you +know: _Il faut le battre, le fer, le brayer, le petrir_.... And in +my horror I tried to wake up, and woke up...but woke up in +the dream. And I began asking myself what it meant. And Korney +said to me: 'In childbirth you'll die, ma'am, you'll die....' +And I woke up." + +"What nonsense, what nonsense!" said Vronsky; but he felt himself +that there was no conviction in his voice. + +"But don't let's talk of it. Ring the bell, I'll have tea. And +stay a little now; it's not long I shall..." + +But all at once she stopped. The expression of her face +instantaneously changed. Horror and excitement were suddenly +replaced by a look of soft, solemn, blissful attention. He could +not comprehend the meaning of the change. She was listening to +the stirring of the new life within her. + + + +Chapter 4 + + +Alexey Alexandrovitch, after meeting Vronsky on his own steps, +drove, as he had intended, to the Italian opera. He sat +through two acts there, and saw everyone he had wanted to see. +On returning home, he carefully scrutinized the hat stand, and +noticing that there was not a military overcoat there, he went, +as usual, to his own room. But, contrary to his usual habit, he +did not go to bed, he walked up and down his study till three +o'clock in the morning. The feeling of furious anger with his +wife, who would not observe the proprieties and keep to the one +stipulation he had laid on her, not to receive her lover in her +own home, gave him no peace. She had not complied with his +request, and he was bound to punish her and carry out his +threat--obtain a divorce and take away his son. He knew all the +difficulties connected with this course, but he had said he would +do it, and now he must carry out his threat. Countess Lidia +Ivanovna had hinted that this was the best way out of his +position, and of late the obtaining of divorces had been brought +to such perfection that Alexey Alexandrovitch saw a possibility +of overcoming the formal difficulties. Misfortunes never come +singly, and the affairs of the reorganization of the native +tribes, and of the irrigation of the lands of the Zaraisky +province, had brought such official worries upon Alexey +Alexandrovitch that he had been of late in a continual condition +of extreme irritability. + +He did not sleep the whole night, and his fury, growing in a sort +of vast, arithmetical progression, reached its highest limits in +the morning. He dressed in haste, and as though carrying his cup +full of wrath, and fearing to spill any over, fearing to lose +with his wrath the energy necessary for the interview with his +wife, he went into her room directly he heard she was up. + +Anna, who had thought she knew her husband so well, was amazed at +his appearance when he went in to her. His brow was lowering, +and his eyes stared darkly before him, avoiding her eyes; his +mouth was tightly and contemptuously shut. In his walk, in his +gestures, in the sound of his voice there was a determination and +firmness such as his wife had never seen in him. He went into +her room, and without greeting her, walked straight up to her +writing-table, and taking her keys, opened a drawer. + +"What do you want?" she cried. + +"Your lover's letters," he said. + +"They're not here," she said, shutting the drawer; but from that +action he saw he had guessed right, and roughly pushing away her +hand, he quickly snatched a portfolio in which he knew she used +to put her most important papers. She tried to pull the +portfolio away, but he pushed her back. + +"Sit down! I have to speak to you," he said, putting the +portfolio under his arm, and squeezing it so tightly with his +elbow that his shoulder stood up. Amazed and intimidated, she +gazed at him in silence. + +"I told you that I would not allow you to receive your lover in +this house." + +"I had to see him to..." + +She stopped, not finding a reason. + +"I do not enter into the details of why a woman wants to see her +lover." + +"I meant, I only..." she said, flushing hotly. This coarseness +of his angered her, and gave her courage. "Surely you must feel +how easy it is for you to insult me?" she said. + +"An honest man and an honest woman may be insulted, but to tell a +thief he's a thief is simply _la constatation d'un fait_." + +"This cruelty is something new I did not know in you." + +"You call it cruelty for a husband to give his wife liberty, +giving her the honorable protection of his name, simply on the +condition of observing the proprieties: is that cruelty?" + +"It's worse than cruel--it's base, if you want to know!" Anna +cried, in a rush of hatred, and getting up, she was going away. + +"No!" he shrieked, in his shrill voice, which pitched a note +higher than usual even, and his big hands clutching her by the +arm so violently that red marks were left from the bracelet he +was squeezing, he forcibly sat her down in her place. + +"Base! If you care to use that word, what is base is to forsake +husband and child for a lover, while you eat your husband's +bread!" + +She bowed her head. She did not say what she had said the +evening before to her lover, that _he_ was her husband, and her +husband was superfluous; she did not even think that. She felt +all the justice of his words, and only said softly: + +"You cannot describe my position as worse than I feel it to be +myself; but what are you saying all this for?" + +"What am I saying it for? what for?" he went on, as angrily. +"That you may know that since you have not carried out my wishes +in regard to observing outward decorum, I will take measures to +put an end to this state of things." + +"Soon, very soon, it will end, anyway," she said; and again, at +the thought of death near at hand and now desired, tears came +into her eyes. + +"It will end sooner than you and your lover have planned! If you +must have the satisfaction of animal passion..." + +"Alexey Alexandrovitch! I won't say it's not generous, but it's +not like a gentleman to strike anyone who's down." + +"Yes, you only think of yourself! But the sufferings of a man +who was your husband have no interest for you. You don't care +that his whole life is ruined, that he is thuff...thuff..." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch was speaking so quickly that he stammered, +and was utterly unable to articulate the word "suffering." In +the end he pronounced it "thuffering." She wanted to laugh, and +was immediately ashamed that anything could amuse her at such a +moment. And for the first time, for an instant, she felt for +him, put herself in his place, and was sorry for him. But what +could she say or do? Her head sank, and she sat silent. He too +was silent for some time, and then began speaking in a frigid, +less shrill voice, emphasizing random words that had no +special significance. + +"I came to tell you..." he said. + +She glanced at him. "No, it was my fancy," she thought, +recalling the expression of his face when he stumbled over the +word "suffering." "No; can a man with those dull eyes, with that +self-satisfied complacency, feel anything?" + +"I cannot change anything," she whispered. + +"I have come to tell you that I am going tomorrow to Moscow, and +shall not return again to this house, and you will receive notice +of what I decide through the lawyer into whose hands I shall +intrust the task of getting a divorce. My son is going to my +sister's," said Alexey Alexandrovitch, with an effort recalling +what he had meant to say about his son. + +"You take Seryozha to hurt me," she said, looking at him from +under her brows. "You do not love him.... Leave me Seryozha!" + +"Yes, I have lost even my affection for my son, because he is +associated with the repulsion I feel for you. But still I +shall take him. Goodbye!" + +And he was going away, but now she detained him. + +"Alexey Alexandrovitch, leave me Seryozha!" she whispered once +more. "I have nothing else to say. Leave Seryozha till my...I +shall soon be confined; leave him!" + +Alexey Alexandrovitch flew into a rage, and, snatching his hand +from her, he went out of the room without a word. + + + +Chapter 5 + + +The waiting-room of the celebrated Petersburg lawyer was full +when Alexey Alexandrovitch entered it. Three ladies--an old +lady, a young lady, and a merchant's wife--and three gentlemen-- +one a German banker with a ring on his finger, the second a +merchant with a beard, and the third a wrathful-looking +government clerk in official uniform, with a cross on his neck-- +had obviously been waiting a long while already. Two clerks were +writing at tables with scratching pens. The appurtenances of the +writing-tables, about which Alexey Alexandrovitch was himself +very fastidious, were exceptionally good. He could not help +observing this. One of the clerks, without getting up, turned +wrathfully to Alexey Alexandrovitch, half closing his eyes. +"What are you wanting?" + +He replied that he had to see the lawyer on some business. + +"He is engaged," the clerk responded severely, and he pointed +with his pen at the persons waiting, and went on writing. + +"Can't he spare time to see me?" said Alexey Alexandrovitch. + +"He has no time free; he is always busy. Kindly wait your +turn." + +"Then I must trouble you to give him my card," Alexey +Alexandrovitch said with dignity, seeing the impossibility of +preserving his incognito. + +The clerk took the card and, obviously not approving of what he +read on it, went to the door. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch was in principle in favor of the publicity +of legal proceedings, though for some higher official +considerations he disliked the application of the principle in +Russia, and disapproved of it, as far as he could disapprove of +anything instituted by authority of the Emperor. His whole life +had been spent in administrative work, and consequently, when he +did not approve of anything, his disapproval was softened by the +recognition of the inevitability of mistakes and the possibility +of reform in every department. In the new public law courts he +disliked the restrictions laid on the lawyers conducting cases. +But till then he had had nothing to do with the law courts, and +so had disapproved of their publicity simply in theory; now his +disapprobation was strengthened by the unpleasant impression made +on him in the lawyer's waiting room. + +"Coming immediately," said the clerk; and two minutes later there +did actually appear in the doorway the large figure of an old +solicitor who had been consulting with the lawyer himself. + +The lawyer was a little, squat, bald man, with a dark, reddish +beard, light-colored long eyebrows, and an overhanging brow. He +was attired as though for a wedding, from his cravat to his +double watch-chain and varnished boots. His face was clever and +manly, but his dress was dandified and in bad taste. + +"Pray walk in," said the lawyer, addressing Alexey +Alexandrovitch; and, gloomily ushering Karenin in before him, he +closed the door. + +"Won't you sit down?" He indicated an armchair at a writing table +covered with papers. He sat down himself, and, rubbing his +little hands with short fingers covered with white hairs, he bent +his head on one side. But as soon as he was settled in this +position a moth flew over the table. The lawyer, with a +swiftness that could never have been expected of him, opened his +hands, caught the moth, and resumed his former attitude. + +"Before beginning to speak of my business," said Alexey +Alexandrovitch, following the lawyer's movements with wondering +eyes, "I ought to observe that the business about which I have to +speak to you is to be strictly private." + +The lawyer's overhanging reddish mustaches were parted in a +scarcely perceptible smile. + +"I should not be a lawyer if I could not keep the secrets +confided to me. But if you would like proof..." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch glanced at his face, and saw that the +shrewd, gray eyes were laughing, and seemed to know all about it +already. + +"You know my name?" Alexey Alexandrovitch resumed. + +"I know you and the good"--again he caught a moth--"work you are +doing, like every Russian," said the lawyer, bowing. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch sighed, plucking up his courage. But +having once made up his mind he went on in his shrill voice, +without timidity--or hesitation, accentuating here and there a +word. + +"I have the misfortune," Alexey Alexandrovitch began, "to have +been deceived in my married life, and I desire to break off all +relations with my wife by legal means--that is, to be divorced, +but to do this so that my son may not remain with his mother." + +The lawyer's gray eyes tried not to laugh, but they were dancing +with irrepressible glee, and Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that it +was not simply the delight of a man who has just got a profitable +job: there was triumph and joy, there was a gleam like the +malignant gleam he saw in his wife's eyes. + +"You desire my assistance in securing a divorce?" + +"Yes, precisely so; but I ought to warn you that I may be +wasting your time and attention. I have come simply to consult +you as a preliminary step. I want a divorce, but the form in +which it is possible is of great consequence to me. It is very +possible that if that form does not correspond with my +requirements I may give up a legal divorce." + +"Oh, that's always the case," said the lawyer, "and that's always +for you to decide." + +He let his eyes rest on Alexey Alexandrovitch's feet, feeling +that he might offend his client by the sight of his irrepressible +amusement. He looked at a moth that flew before his nose, and +moved his hands, but did not catch it from regard for Alexey +Alexandrovitch's position. + +"Though in their general features our laws on this subject are +known to me," pursued Alexey Alexandrovitch, "I should be glad +to have an idea of the forms in which such things are done in +practice." + +"You would be glad," the lawyer, without lifting his eyes, +responded, adopting, with a certain satisfaction, the tone of his +client's remarks, "for me to lay before you all the methods by +which you could secure what you desire?" + +And on receiving an assuring nod from Alexey Alexandrovitch, he +went on, stealing a glance now and then at Alexey +Alexandrovitch's face, which was growing red in patches. + +"Divorce by our laws," he said, with a slight shade of +disapprobation of our laws, "is possible, as you are aware, in +the following cases.... Wait a little!" he called to a clerk +who put his head in at the door, but he got up all the same, said +a few words to him, and sat down again. "...In the following +cases: physical defect in the married parties, desertion without +communication for five years," he said, crooking a short finger +covered with hair, "adultery" (this word he pronounced with +obvious satisfaction), "subdivided as follows" (he continued to +crook his fat fingers, though the three cases and their +subdivisions could obviously not be classified together): +"physical defect of the husband or of the wife, adultery of the +husband or of the wife." As by now all his fingers were used up, +he uncrooked all his fingers and went on: "This is the +theoretical view; but I imagine you have done me the honor to +apply to me in order to learn its application in practice. And +therefore, guided by precedents, I must inform you that in +practice cases of divorce may all be reduced to the following-- +there's no physical defect, I may assume, nor desertion?..." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch bowed his head in assent. + +"--May be reduced to the following: adultery of one of the +married parties, and the detection in the fact of the guilty +party by mutual agreement, and failing such agreement, accidental +detection. It must be admitted that the latter case is rarely +met with in practice," said the lawyer, and stealing a glance at +Alexey Alexandrovitch he paused, as a man selling pistols, after +enlarging on the advantages of each weapon, might await his +customer's choice. But Alexey Alexandrovitch said nothing, and +therefore the lawyer went on: "The most usual and simple, the +sensible course, I consider, is adultery by mutual consent. I +should not permit myself to express it so, speaking with a man of +no education," he said, "but I imagine that to you this is +comprehensible." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch was, however, so perturbed that he did not +immediately comprehend all the good sense of adultery by mutual +consent, and his eyes expressed this uncertainty; but the lawyer +promptly came to his assistance. + +"People cannot go on living together--here you have a fact. And +if both are agreed about it, the details and formalities become a +matter of no importance. And at the same time this is the +simplest and most certain method." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch fully understood now. But he had religious +scruples, which hindered the execution of such a plan. + +"That is out of the question in the present case," he said. +"Only one alternative is possible: undesigned detection, +supported by letters which I have." + +At the mention of letters the lawyer pursed up his lips, and gave +utterance to a thin little compassionate and contemptuous sound. + +"Kindly consider," he began, "cases of that kind are, as you are +aware, under ecclesiastical jurisdiction; the reverend fathers +are fond of going into the minutest details in cases of that +kind," he said with a smile, which betrayed his sympathy with the +reverend fathers' taste. "Letters may, of course, be a partial +confirmation; but detection in the fact there must be of the most +direct kind, that is, by eyewitnesses. In fact, if you do me the +honor to intrust your confidence to me, you will do well to leave +me the choice of the measures to be employed. If one wants the +result, one must admit the means." + +"If it is so..." Alexey Alexandrovitch began, suddenly turning +white; but at that moment the lawyer rose and again went to the +door to speak to the intruding clerk. + +"Tell her we don't haggle over fees!" he said, and returned to +Alexey Alexandrovitch. + +On his way back he caught unobserved another moth. "Nice state +my rep curtains will be in by the summer!" he thought, frowning. + +"And so you were saying?..." he said. + +"I will communicate my decision to you by letter," said Alexey +Alexandrovitch, getting up, and he clutched at the table. After +standing a moment in silence, he said: "From your words I may +consequently conclude that a divorce may be obtained? I would +ask you to let me know what are your terms." + +"It may be obtained if you give me complete liberty of action," +said the lawyer, not answering his question. "When can I reckon +on receiving information from you?" he asked, moving towards the +door, his eyes and his varnished boots shining. + +"In a week's time. Your answer as to whether you will undertake +to conduct the case, and on what terms, you will be so good as to +communicate to me." + +"Very good." + +The lawyer bowed respectfully, let his client out of the door, +and, left alone, gave himself up to his sense of amusement. He +felt so mirthful that, contrary to his rules, he made a reduction +in his terms to the haggling lady, and gave up catching moths, +finally deciding that next winter he must have the furniture +covered with velvet, like Sigonin's. + + + +Chapter 6 + + +Alexey Alexandrovitch had gained a brilliant victory at the +sitting of the Commission of the 17th of August, but in the +sequel this victory cut the ground from under his feet. The new +commission for the inquiry into the condition of the native +tribes in all its branches had been formed and despatched to its +destination with an unusual speed and energy inspired by Alexey +Alexandrovitch. Within three months a report was presented. The +condition of the native tribes was investigated in its political, +administrative, economic, ethnographic, material, and religious +aspects. To all these questions there were answers admirably +stated, and answers admitting no shade of doubt, since they were +not a product of human thought, always liable to error, but were +all the product of official activity. The answers were all based +on official data furnished by governors and heads of churches, +and founded on the reports of district magistrates and +ecclesiastical superintendents, founded in their turn on the +reports of parochial overseers and parish priests; and so all of +these answers were unhesitating and certain. All such questions +as, for instance, of the cause of failure of crops, of the +adherence of certain tribes to their ancient beliefs, etc.-- +questions which, but for the convenient intervention of the +official machine, are not, and cannot be solved for ages-- +received full, unhesitating solution. And this solution was in +favor of Alexey Alexandrovitch's contention. But Stremov, who +had felt stung to the quick at the last sitting, had, on the +reception of the commission's report, resorted to tactics which +Alexey Alexandrovitch had not anticipated. Stremov, carrying +with him several members, went over to Alexey Alexandrovitch's +side, and not contenting himself with warmly defending the +measure proposed by Karenin, proposed other more extreme measures +in the same direction. These measures, still further exaggerated +in opposition to what was Alexey Alexandrovitch's fundamental +idea, were passed by the commission, and then the aim of +Stremov's tactics became apparent. Carried to an extreme, the +measures seemed at once to be so absurd that the highest +authorities, and public opinion, and intellectual ladies, and the +newspapers, all at the same time fell foul of them, expressing +their indignation both with the measures and their nominal +father, Alexey Alexandrovitch. Stremov drew back, affecting to +have blindly followed Karenin, and to be astounded and distressed +at what had been done. This meant the defeat of Alexey +Alexandrovitch. But in spite of failing health, in spite of his +domestic griefs, he did not give in. There was a split in the +commission. Some members, with Stremov at their head, justified +their mistake on the ground that they had put faith in the +commission of revision, instituted by Alexey Alexandrovitch, and +maintained that the report of the commission was rubbish, and +simply so much waste paper. Alexey Alexandrovitch, with a +following of those who saw the danger of so revolutionary an +attitude to official documents, persisted in upholding the +statements obtained by the revising commission. In consequence +of this, in the higher spheres, and even in society, all was +chaos, and although everyone was interested, no one could tell +whether the native tribes really were becoming impoverished and +ruined, or whether they were in a flourishing condition. The +position of Alexey Alexandrovitch, owing to this, and partly +owing to the contempt lavished on him for his wife's infidelity, +became very precarious. And in this position he took an +important resolution. To the astonishment of the commission, he +announced that he should ask permission to go himself to +investigate the question on the spot. And having obtained +permission, Alexey Alexandrovitch prepared to set off to these +remote provinces. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch's departure made a great sensation, the +more so as just before he started he officially returned the +posting-fares allowed him for twelve horses, to drive to his +destination. + +"I think it very noble," Betsy said about this to the Princess +Myakaya. "Why take money for posting-horses when everyone knows +that there are railways everywhere now?" + +But Princess Myakaya did not agree, and the Princess Tverskaya's +opinion annoyed her indeed. + +"It's all very well for you to talk," said she, "when you have I +don't know how many millions; but I am very glad when my husband +goes on a revising tour in the summer. It's very good for him +and pleasant traveling about, and it's a settled arrangement for +me to keep a carriage and coachman on the money." + +On his way to the remote provinces Alexey Alexandrovitch stopped +for three days at Moscow. + +The day after his arrival he was driving back from calling on the +governor-general. At the crossroads by Gazetoy Place, where +there are always crowds of carriages and sledges, Alexey +Alexandrovitch suddenly heard his name called out in such a loud +and cheerful voice that he could not help looking round. At the +corner of the pavement, in a short, stylish overcoat and a +low-crowned fashionable hat, jauntily askew, with a smile that +showed a gleam of white teeth and red lips, stood Stepan +Arkadyevitch, radiant, young, and beaming. He called him +vigorously and urgently, and insisted on his stopping. He had +one arm on the window of a carriage that was stopping at the +corner, and out of the window were thrust the heads of a lady in +a velvet hat, and two children. Stepan Arkadyevitch was smiling +and beckoning to his brother-in-law. The lady smiled a kindly +smile too, and she too waved her hand to Alexey Alexandrovitch. +It was Dolly with her children. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch did not want to see anyone in Moscow, and +least of all his wife's brother. He raised his hat and would +have driven on, but Stepan Arkadyevitch told his coachman to +stop, and ran across the snow to him. + +"Well, what a shame not to have let us know! Been here long? I +was at Dussot's yesterday and saw 'Karenin' on the visitors' +list, but it never entered my head that it was you," said Stepan +Arkadyevitch, sticking his head in at the window of the carriage, +"or I should have looked you up. I am glad to see you!" he +said, knocking one foot against the other to shake the snow off. +"What a shame of you not to let us know!" he repeated. + +"I had no time; I am very busy," Alexey Alexandrovitch responded +dryly. + +"Come to my wife, she does so want to see you." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch unfolded the rug in which his frozen feet +were wrapped, and getting out of his carriage made his way over +the snow to Darya Alexandrovna. + +"Why, Alexey Alexandrovitch, what are you cutting us like this +for?" said Dolly, smiling. + +"I was very busy. Delighted to see you!" he said in a tone +clearly indicating that he was annoyed by it. "How are you?" + +"Tell me, how is my darling Anna?" + +Alexey Alexandrovitch mumbled something and would have gone on. +But Stepan Arkadyevitch stopped him. + +"I tell you what we'll do tomorrow. Dolly, ask him to dinner. +We'll ask Koznishev and Pestsov, so as to entertain him with our +Moscow celebrities." + +"Yes, please, do come," said Dolly; "we will expect you at five, +or six o'clock, if you like. How is my darling Anna? How +long..." + +"She is quite well," Alexey Alexandrovitch mumbled, frowning. +"Delighted!" and he moved away towards his carriage. + +"You will come?" Dolly called after him. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch said something which Dolly could not catch +in the noise of the moving carriages. + +"I shall come round tomorrow!" Stepan Arkadyevitch shouted to +him. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch got into his carriage, and buried himself +in it so as neither to see nor be seen. + +"Queer fish!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch to his wife, and glancing +at his watch, he made a motion of his hand before his face, +indicating a caress to his wife and children, and walked jauntily +along the pavement. + +"Stiva! Stiva!" Dolly called, reddening. + +He turned round. + +"I must get coats, you know, for Grisha and Tanya. Give me the +money." + +"Never mind; you tell them I'll pay the bill!" and he vanished, +nodding genially to an acquaintance who drove by. + + + +Chapter 7 + + +The next day was Sunday. Stepan Arkadyevitch went to the Grand +Theater to a rehearsal of the ballet, and gave Masha Tchibisova, +a pretty dancing-girl whom he had just taken under his +protection, the coral necklace he had promised her the evening +before, and behind the scenes in the dim daylight of the theater, +managed to kiss her pretty little face, radiant over her present. +Besides the gift of the necklace he wanted to arrange with her +about meeting after the ballet. After explaining that he could +not come at the beginning of the ballet, he promised he would +come for the last act and take her to supper. From the theater +Stepan Arkadyevitch drove to Ohotny Row, selected himself the +fish and asparagus for dinner, and by twelve o'clock was at +Dussot's, where he had to see three people, luckily all staying +at the same hotel: Levin, who had recently come back from abroad +and was staying there; the new head of his department, who had +just been promoted to that position, and had come on a tour of +revision to Moscow; and his brother-in-law, Karenin, whom he must +see, so as to be sure of bringing him to dinner. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch liked dining, but still better he liked to +give a dinner, small, but very choice, both as regards the food +and drink and as regards the selection of guests. He +particularly liked the program of that day's dinner. There would +be fresh perch, asparagus, and _la piece de resistance_-- +first-rate, but quite plain, roast beef, and wines to suit: so +much for the eating and drinking. Kitty and Levin would be of +the party, and that this might not be obtrusively evident, there +would be a girl cousin too, and young Shtcherbatsky, and _la piece +de resistance_ among the guests--Sergey Koznishev and Alexey +Alexandrovitch. Sergey Ivanovitch was a Moscow man, and a +philosopher; Alexey Alexandrovitch a Petersburger, and a +practical politician. He was asking, too, the well-known +eccentric enthusiast, Pestsov, a liberal, a great talker, a +musician, an historian, and the most delightfully youthful person +of fifty, who would be a sauce or garnish for Koznishev and +Karenin. He would provoke them and set them off. + +The second installment for the forest had been received from the +merchant and was not yet exhausted; Dolly had been very amiable +and goodhumored of late, and the idea of the dinner pleased +Stepan Arkadyevitch from every point of view. He was in the most +light-hearted mood. There were two circumstances a little +unpleasant, but these two circumstances were drowned in the sea +of good-humored gaiety which flooded the soul of Stepan +Arkadyevitch. These two circumstances were: first, that on +meeting Alexey Alexandrovitch the day before in the street he had +noticed that he was cold and reserved with him, and putting the +expression of Alexey Alexandrovitch's face and the fact that he +had not come to see them or let them know of his arrival with the +rumors he had heard about Anna and Vronsky, Stepan Arkadyevitch +guessed that something was wrong between the husband and wife. + +That was one disagreeable thing. The other slightly disagreeable +fact was that the new head of his department, like all new heads, +had the reputation already of a terrible person, who got up at +six o'clock in the morning, worked like a horse, and insisted on +his subordinates working in the same way. Moreover, this new +head had the further reputation of being a bear in his manners, +and was, according to all reports, a man of a class in all +respects the opposite of that to which his predecessor had +belonged, and to which Stepan Arkadyevitch had hitherto belonged +himself. On the previous day Stepan Arkadyevitch had appeared at +the office in a uniform, and the new chief had been very affable +and had talked to him as to an acquaintance. Consequently Stepan +Arkadyevitch deemed it his duty to call upon him in his +non-official dress. The thought that the new chief might not +tender him a warm reception was the other unpleasant thing. But +Stepan Arkadyevitch instinctively felt that everything would _come +round_ all right. "They're all people, all men, like us poor +sinners; why be nasty and quarrelsome?" he thought as he went +into the hotel. + +"Good-day, Vassily," he said, walking into the corridor with his +hat cocked on one side, and addressing a footman he knew; "why, +you've let your whiskers grow! Levin, number seven, eh? Take me +up, please. And find out whether Count Anitchkin" (this was the +new head) "is receiving." + +"Yes, sir," Vassily responded, smiling. "You've not been to see +us for a long while." + +"I was here yesterday, but at the other entrance. Is this +number seven?" + +Levin was standing with a peasant from Tver in the middle of the +room, measuring a fresh bearskin, when Stepan Arkadyevitch went +in. + +"What! you killed him?" cried Stepan Arkadyevitch. "Well done! +A she-bear? How are you, Arhip!" + +He shook hands with the peasant and sat down on the edge of a +chair, without taking off his coat and hat. + +"Come, take off your coat and stay a little," said Levin, taking +his hat. + +"No, I haven't time; I've only looked in for a tiny second," +answered Stepan Arkadyevitch. He threw open his coat, but +afterwards did take it off, and sat on for a whole hour, talking +to Levin about hunting and the most intimate subjects. + +"Come, tell me, please, what you did abroad? Where have you +been?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, when the peasant had gone. + +"Oh, I stayed in Germany, in Prussia, in France, and in England-- +not in the capitals, but in the manufacturing towns, and saw a +great deal that was new to me. And I'm glad I went." + +"Yes, I knew your idea of the solution of the labor question." + +"Not a bit: in Russia there can be no labor question. In Russia +the question is that of the relation of the working people to the +land; though the question exists there too--but there it's a +matter of repairing what's been ruined, while with us..." + +Stepan Arkadyevitch listened attentively to Levin. + +"Yes, yes!" he said, "it's very possible you're right. But I'm +glad you're in good spirits, and are hunting bears, and working, +and interested. Shtcherbatsky told me another story--he met +you--that you were in such a depressed state, talking of nothing +but death...." + +"Well, what of it? I've not given up thinking of death," said +Levin. "It's true that it's high time I was dead; and that all +this is nonsense. It's the truth I'm telling you. I do value +my idea and my work awfully; but in reality only consider this: +all this world of ours is nothing but a speck of mildew, which +has grown up on a tiny planet. And for us to suppose we can have +something great--ideas, work--it's all dust and ashes." + +"But all that's as old as the hills, my boy!" + +"It is old; but do you know, when you grasp this fully, then +somehow everything becomes of no consequence. When you +understand that you will die tomorrow, if not today, and nothing +will be left, then everything is so unimportant! And I consider +my idea very important, but it turns out really to be as +unimportant too, even if it were carried out, as doing for that +bear. So one goes on living, amusing oneself with hunting, with +work--anything so as not to think of death!" + +Stepan Arkadyevitch smiled a subtle affectionate smile as he +listened to Levin. + +"Well, of course! Here you've come round to my point. Do you +remember you attacked me for seeking enjoyment in life? Don't be +so severe, O moralist!" + +"No; all the same, what's fine in life is..." Levin hesitated-- +"oh, I don't know. All I know is that we shall soon be dead." + +"Why so soon?" + +"And do you know, there's less charm in life, when one thinks of +death, but there's more peace." + +"On the contrary, the finish is always the best. But I must be +going," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, getting up for the tenth time. + +"Oh, no, stay a bit!" said Levin, keeping him. "Now, when shall +we see each other again? I'm going tomorrow." + +"I'm a nice person! Why, that's just what I came for! You simply +must come to dinner with us today. Your brother's coming, and +Karenin, my brother-in-law." + +"You don't mean to say he's here?" said Levin, and he wanted to +inquire about Kitty. He had heard at the beginning of the winter +that she was at Petersburg with her sister, the wife of the +diplomat, and he did not know whether she had come back or not; +but he changed his mind and did not ask. "Whether she's coming +or not, I don't care," he said to himself. + +"So you'll come?" + +"Of course." + +"At five o'clock, then, and not evening dress." + +And Stepan Arkadyevitch got up and went down below to the new +head of his department. Instinct had not misled Stepan +Arkadyevitch. The terrible new head turned out to be an +extremely amenable person, and Stepan Arkadyevitch lunched with +him and stayed on, so that it was four o'clock before he got to +Alexey Alexandrovitch. + + + +Chapter 8 + + +Alexey Alexandrovitch, on coming back from church service, had +spent the whole morning indoors. He had two pieces of business +before him that morning; first, to receive and send on a +deputation from the native tribes which was on its way to +Petersburg, and now at Moscow; secondly, to write the promised +letter to the lawyer. The deputation, though it had been +summoned at Alexey Alexandrovitch's instigation, was not without +its discomforting and even dangerous aspect, and he was glad he +had found it in Moscow. The members of this deputation had not +the slightest conception of their duty and the part they were to +play. They naively believed that it was their business to lay +before the commission their needs and the actual condition of +things, and to ask assistance of the government, and utterly +failed to grasp that some of their statements and requests +supported the contention of the enemy's side, and so spoiled the +whole business. Alexey Alexandrovitch was busily engaged with +them for a long while, drew up a program for them from which they +were not to depart, and on dismissing them wrote a letter to +Petersburg for the guidance of the deputation. He had his chief +support in this affair in the Countess Lidia Ivanovna. She was a +specialist in the matter of deputations, and no one knew better +than she how to manage them, and put them in the way they should +go. Having completed this task, Alexey Alexandrovitch wrote the +letter to the lawyer. Without the slightest hesitation he gave +him permission to act as he might judge best. In the letter he +enclosed three of Vronsky's notes to Anna, which were in the +portfolio he had taken away. + +Since Alexey Alexandrovitch had left home with the intention of +not returning to his family again, and since he had been at the +lawyer's and had spoken, though only to one man, of his +intention, since especially he had translated the matter from the +world of real life to the world of ink and paper, he had grown +more and more used to his own intention, and by now distinctly +perceived the feasibility of its execution. + +He was sealing the envelope to the lawyer, when he heard the loud +tones of Stepan Arkadyevitch's voice. Stepan Arkadyevitch was +disputing with Alexey Alexandrovitch's servant, and insisting on +being announced. + +"No matter," thought Alexey Alexandrovitch, "so much the better. +I will inform him at once of my position in regard to his +sister, and explain why it is I can't dine with him." + +"Come in!" he said aloud, collecting his papers, and putting them +in the blotting-paper. + +"There, you see, you're talking nonsense, and he's at home!" +responded Stepan Arkadyevitch's voice, addressing the servant, +who had refused to let him in, and taking off his coat as he +went, Oblonsky walked into the room. "Well, I'm awfully glad +I've found you! So I hope..." Stepan Arkadyevitch began +cheerfully. + +"I cannot come," Alexey Alexandrovitch said coldly, standing and +not asking his visitor to sit down. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch had thought to pass at once into those +frigid relations in which he ought to stand with the brother of a +wife against whom he was beginning a suit for divorce. But he +had not taken into account the ocean of kindliness brimming over +in the heart of Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch opened wide his clear, shining eyes. + +"Why can't you? What do you mean?" he asked in perplexity, +speaking in French. "Oh, but it's a promise. And we're all +counting on you." + +"I want to tell you that I can't dine at your house, because the +terms of relationship which have existed between us must cease." + +"How? How do you mean? What for?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch with +a smile. + +"Because I am beginning an action for divorce against your +sister, my wife. I ought to have..." + +But, before Alexey Alexandrovitch had time to finish his +sentence, Stepan Arkadyevitch was behaving not at all as he had +expected. He groaned and sank into an armchair. + +"No, Alexey Alexandrovitch! What are you saying?" cried +Oblonsky, and his suffering was apparent in his face. + +"It is so." + +"Excuse me, I can't, I can't believe it!" + +Alexey Alexandrovitch sat down, feeling that his words had not +had the effect he anticipated, and that it would be unavoidable +for him to explain his position, and that, whatever explanations +he might make, his relations with his brother-in-law would remain +unchanged. + +"Yes, I am brought to the painful necessity of seeking a +divorce," he said. + +"I will say one thing, Alexey Alexandrovitch. I know you for an +excellent, upright man; I know Anna--excuse me, I can't change my +opinion of her--for a good, an excellent woman; and so, excuse +me, I cannot believe it. There is some misunderstanding," said +he. + +"Oh, if it were merely a misunderstanding!..." + +"Pardon, I understand," interposed Stepan Arkadyevitch. "But of +course.... One thing: you must not act in haste. You must not, +you must not act in haste!" + +"I am not acting in haste," Alexey Alexandrovitch said coldly, +"but one cannot ask advice of anyone in such a matter. I have +quite made up my mind." + +"This is awful!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch. "I would do one +thing, Alexey Alexandrovitch. I beseech you, do it!" he said. +"No action has yet been taken, if I understand rightly. Before +you take advice, see my wife, talk to her. She loves Anna like a +sister, she loves you, and she's a wonderful woman. For God's +sake, talk to her! Do me that favor, I beseech you!" + +Alexey Alexandrovitch pondered, and Stepan Arkadyevitch looked at +him sympathetically, without interrupting his silence. + +"You will go to see her?" + +"I don't know. That was just why I have not been to see you. I +imagine our relations must change." + +"Why so? I don't see that. Allow me to believe that apart from +our connection you have for me, at least in part, the same +friendly feeling I have always had for you...and sincere esteem," +said Stepan Arkadyevitch, pressing his hand. "Even if your worst +suppositions were correct, I don't--and never would--take on +myself to judge either side, and I see no reason why our +relations should be affected. But now, do this, come and see my +wife." + +"Well, we look at the matter differently," said Alexey +Alexandrovitch coldly. "However, we won't discuss it." + +"No; why shouldn't you come today to dine, anyway? My wife's +expecting you. Please, do come. And, above all, talk it over +with her. She's a wonderful woman. For God's sake, on my knees, +I implore you!" + +"If you so much wish it, I will come," said Alexey +Alexandrovitch, sighing. + +And, anxious to change the conversation, he inquired about what +interested them both--the new head of Stepan Arkadyevitch's +department, a man not yet old, who had suddenly been promoted to +so high a position. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch had previously felt no liking for Count +Anitchkin, and had always differed from him in his opinions. But +now, from a feeling readily comprehensible to officials--that +hatred felt by one who has suffered a defeat in the service for +one who has received a promotion, he could not endure him. + +"Well, have you seen him?" said Alexey Alexandrovitch with a +malignant smile. + +"Of course; he was at our sitting yesterday. He seems to know +his work capitally, and to be very energetic." + +"Yes, but what is his energy directed to?" said Alexey +Alexandrovitch. "Is he aiming at doing anything, or simply +undoing what's been done? It's the great misfortune of our +government--this paper administration, of which he's a worthy +representative." + +"Really, I don't know what fault one could find with him. His +policy I don't know, but one thing--he's a very nice fellow," +answered Stepan Arkadyevitch. "I've just been seeing him, and +he's really a capital fellow. We lunched together, and I taught +him how to make, you know that drink, wine and oranges. It's so +cooling. And it's a wonder he didn't know it. He liked it +awfully. No, really he's a capital fellow." + +Stepan Arkadyevitch glanced at his watch. + +"Why, good heavens, it's four already, and I've still to go to +Dolgovushin's! So please come round to dinner. You can't +imagine how you will grieve my wife and me." + +The way in which Alexey Alexandrovitch saw his brother-in-law out +was very different from the manner in which he had met him. + +"I've promised, and I'll come," he answered wearily. + +"Believe me, I appreciate it, and I hope you won't regret it," +answered Stepan Arkadyevitch, smiling. + +And, putting on his coat as he went, he patted the footman on the +head, chuckled, and went out. + +"At five o'clock, and not evening dress, please," he shouted once +more, turning at the door. + + + +Chapter 9 + + +It was past five, and several guests had already arrived, before +the host himself got home. He went in together with Sergey +Ivanovitch Koznishev and Pestsov, who had reached the street door +at the same moment. These were the two leading representatives +of the Moscow intellectuals, as Oblonsky had called them. Both +were men respected for their character and their intelligence. +They respected each other, but were in complete and hopeless +disagreement upon almost every subject, not because they belonged +to opposite parties, but precisely because they were of the same +party (their enemies refused to see any distinction between their +views); but, in that party, each had his own special shade of +opinion. And since no difference is less easily overcome than +the difference of opinion about semi-abstract questions, they +never agreed in any opinion, and had long, indeed, been +accustomed to jeer without anger, each at the other's +incorrigible aberrations. + +They were just going in at the door, talking of the weather, when +Stepan Arkadyevitch overtook them. In the drawing room there +were already sitting Prince Alexander Dmitrievitch Shtcherbatsky, +young Shtcherbatsky, Turovtsin, Kitty, and Karenin. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch saw immediately that things were not going +well in the drawing-room without him. Darya Alexandrovna, in her +best gray silk gown, obviously worried about the children, who +were to have their dinner by themselves in the nursery, and by +her husband's absence, was not equal to the task of making the +party mix without him. All were sitting like so many priests' +wives on a visit (so the old prince expressed it), obviously +wondering why they were there, and pumping up remarks simply to +avoid being silent. Turovtsin--good, simple man--felt +unmistakably a fish out of water, and the smile with which his +thick lips greeted Stepan Arkadyevitch said, as plainly as words: +"Well, old boy, you have popped me down in a learned set! A +drinking party now, or the _Chateau des Fleurs_, would be more in +my line!" The old prince sat in silence, his bright little eyes +watching Karenin from one side, and Stepan Arkadyevitch saw that +he had already formed a phrase to sum up that politician of whom +guests were invited to partake as though he were a sturgeon. +Kitty was looking at the door, calling up all her energies to +keep her from blushing at the entrance of Konstantin Levin. +Young Shtcherbatsky, who had not been introduced to Karenin, was +trying to look as though he were not in the least conscious of +it. Karenin himself had followed the Petersburg fashion for a +dinner with ladies and was wearing evening dress and a white tie. +Stepan Arkadyevitch saw by his face that he had come simply to +keep his promise, and was performing a disagreeable duty in being +present at this gathering. He was indeed the person chiefly +responsible for the chill benumbing all the guests before Stepan +Arkadyevitch came in. + +On entering the drawing room Stepan Arkadyevitch apologized, +explaining that he had been detained by that prince, who was +always the scapegoat for all his absences and unpunctualities, +and in one moment he had made all the guests acquainted with each +other, and, bringing together Alexey Alexandrovitch and Sergey +Koznishev, started them on a discussion of the Russification of +Poland, into which they immediately plunged with Pestsov. +Slapping Turovtsin on the shoulder, he whispered something comic +in his ear, and set him down by his wife and the old prince. +Then he told Kitty she was looking very pretty that evening, and +presented Shtcherbatsky to Karenin. In a moment he had so +kneaded together the social dough that the drawing room became +very lively, and there was a merry buzz of voices. Konstantin +Levin was the only person who had not arrived. But this was so +much the better, as going into the dining room, Stepan +Arkadyevitch found to his horror that the port and sherry had +been procured from Depre, and not from Levy, and, directing that +the coachman should be sent off as speedily as possible to +Levy's, he was going back to the drawing room. + +In the dining room he was met by Konstantin Levin. + +"I'm not late?" + +"You can never help being late!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, taking +his arm. + +"Have you a lot of people? Who's here?" asked Levin, unable to +help blushing, as he knocked the snow off his cap with his glove. + +"All our own set. Kitty's here. Come along, I'll introduce you +to Karenin." + +Stepan Arkadyevitch, for all his liberal views, was well aware +that to meet Karenin was sure to be felt a flattering +distinction, and so treated his best friends to this honor. But +at that instant Konstantin Levin was not in a condition to feel +all the gratification of making such an acquaintance. He had not +seen Kitty since that memorable evening when he met Vronsky, not +counting, that is, the moment when he had had a glimpse of her on +the highroad. He had known at the bottom of his heart that he +would see her here today. But to keep his thoughts free, he had +tried to persuade himself that he did not know it. Now when he +heard that she was here, he was suddenly conscious of such +delight, and at the same time of such dread, that his breath +failed him and he could not utter what he wanted to say. + +"What is she like, what is she like? Like what she used to be, +or like what she was in the carriage? What if Darya Alexandrovna +told the truth? Why shouldn't it be the truth?" he thought. + +"Oh, please, introduce me to Karenin," he brought out with an +effort, and with a desperately determined step he walked into the +drawing room and beheld her. + +She was not the same as she used to be, nor was she as she had +been in the carriage; she was quite different. + +She was scared, shy, shame-faced, and still more charming from +it. She saw him the very instant he walked into the room. She +had been expecting him. She was delighted, and so confused at +her own delight that there was a moment, the moment when he went +up to her sister and glanced again at her, when she, and he, and +Dolly, who saw it all, thought she would break down and would +begin to cry. She crimsoned, turned white, crimsoned again, and +grew faint, waiting with quivering lips for him to come to her. +He went up to her, bowed, and held out his hand without speaking. +Except for the slight quiver of her lips and the moisture in her +eyes that made them brighter, her smile was almost calm as she +said: + +"How long it is since we've seen each other!" and with desperate +determination she pressed his hand with her cold hand. + +"You've not seen me, but I've seen you," said Levin, with a +radiant smile of happiness. "I saw you when you were driving +from the railway station to Ergushovo." + +"When?" she asked, wondering. + +"You were driving to Ergushovo," said Levin, feeling as if he +would sob with the rapture that was flooding his heart. "And how +dared I associate a thought of anything not innocent with this +touching creature? And, yes, I do believe it's true what Darya +Alexandrovna told me," he thought. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch took him by the arm and led him away to +Karenin. + +"Let me introduce you." He mentioned their names. + +"Very glad to meet you again," said Alexey Alexandrovitch coldly, +shaking hands with Levin. + +"You are acquainted?" Stepan Arkadyevitch asked in surprise. + +"We spent three hours together in the train," said Levin smiling, +"but got out, just as in a masquerade, quite mystified--at least +I was." + +"Nonsense! Come along, please," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, +pointing in the direction of the dining room. + +The men went into the dining-room and went up to a table, laid +with six sorts of spirits and as many kinds of cheese, some with +little silver spades and some without, caviar, herrings, +preserves of various kinds, and plates with slices of French +bread. + +The men stood round the strong-smelling spirits and salt +delicacies, and the discussion of the Russification of Poland +between Koznishev, Karenin, and Pestsov died down in anticipation +of dinner. + +Sergey Ivanovitch was unequaled in his skill in winding up the +most heated and serious argument by some unexpected pinch of +Attic salt that changed the disposition of his opponent. He did +this now. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch had been maintaining that the Russification +of Poland could only be accomplished as a result of larger +measures which ought to be introduced by the Russian government. + +Pestsov insisted that one country can only absorb another when it +is the more densely populated. + +Koznishev admitted both points, but with limitations. As they +were going out of the drawing room to conclude the argument, +Koznishev said, smiling: + +"So, then, for the Russification of our foreign populations there +is but one method--to bring up as many children as one can. My +brother and I are terribly in fault, I see. You married men, +especially you, Stepan Arkadyevitch, are the real patriots: what +number have you reached?" he said, smiling genially at their host +and holding out a tiny wine glass to him. + +Everyone laughed, and Stepan Arkadyevitch with particular good +humor. + +"Oh, yes, that's the best method!" he said, munching cheese and +filling the wine-glass with a special sort of spirit. The +conversation dropped at the jest. + +"This cheese is not bad. Shall I give you some?" said the master +of the house. "Why, have you been going in for gymnastics +again?" he asked Levin, pinching his muscle with his left hand. +Levin smiled, bent his arm, and under Stepan Arkadyevitch's +fingers the muscles swelled up like a sound cheese, hard as a +knob of iron, through the fine cloth of the coat. + +"What biceps! A perfect Samson!" + +"I imagine great strength is needed for hunting bears," observed +Alexey Alexandrovitch, who had the mistiest notions about the +chase. He cut off and spread with cheese a wafer of bread fine +as a spider-web. + +Levin smiled. + +"Not at all. Quite the contrary; a child can kill a bear," he +said, with a slight bow moving aside for the ladies, who were +approaching the table. + +"You have killed a bear, I've been told!" said Kitty, trying +assiduously to catch with her fork a perverse mushroom that would +slip away, and setting the lace quivering over her white arm. +"Are there bears on your place?" she added, turning her charming +little head to him and smiling. + +There was apparently nothing extraordinary in what she said, but +what unutterable meaning there was for him in every sound, in +every turn of her lips, her eyes, her hand as she said it! There +was entreaty for forgiveness, and trust in him, and tenderness-- +soft, timid tenderness--and promise and hope and love for him, +which he could not but believe in and which choked him with +happiness. + +"No, we've been hunting in the Tver province. It was coming back +from there that I met your _beaufrere_ in the train, or your +_beaufrere's_ brother-in-law," he said with a smile. "It was an +amusing meeting." + +And he began telling with droll good-humor how, after not +sleeping all night, he had, wearing an old fur-lined, +full-skirted coat, got into Alexey Alexandrovitch's compartment. + +"The conductor, forgetting the proverb, would have chucked me out +on account of my attire; but thereupon I began expressing my +feelings in elevated language, and...you, too," he said, +addressing Karenin and forgetting his name, "at first would have +ejected me on the ground of the old coat, but afterwards you took +my part, for which I am extremely grateful." + +"The rights of passengers generally to choose their seats are too +ill-defined," said Alexey Alexandrovitch, rubbing the tips of his +fingers on his handkerchief. + +"I saw you were in uncertainty about me," said Levin, smiling +good-naturedly, "but I made haste to plunge into intellectual +conversation to smooth over the defects of my attire." +Sergey Ivanovitch, while he kept up a conversation with their +hostess, had one ear for his brother, and he glanced askance at +him. "What is the matter with him today? Why such a conquering +hero?" he thought. He did not know that Levin was feeling as +though he had grown wings. Levin knew she was listening to his +words and that she was glad to listen to him. And this was the +only thing that interested him. Not in that room only, but in +the whole world, there existed for him only himself, with +enormously increased importance and dignity in his own eyes, and +she. He felt himself on a pinnacle that made him giddy, and far +away down below were all those nice excellent Karenins, +Oblonskys, and all the world. + +Quite without attracting notice, without glancing at them, as +though there were no other places left, Stepan Arkadyevitch put +Levin and Kitty side by side. + +"Oh, you may as well sit there," he said to Levin. + +The dinner was as choice as the china, in which Stepan +Arkadyevitch was a connoisseur. The _soupe Marie-Louise_ was a +splendid success; the tiny pies eaten with it melted in the mouth +and were irreproachable. The two footmen and Matvey, in white +cravats, did their duty with the dishes and wines unobtrusively, +quietly, and swiftly. On the material side the dinner was a +success; it was no less so on the immaterial. The conversation, +at times general and at times between individuals, never paused, +and towards the end the company was so lively that the men rose +from the table, without stopping speaking, and even Alexey +Alexandrovitch thawed. + + + +Chapter 10 + + +Pestsov liked thrashing an argument out to the end, and was not +satisfied with Sergey Ivanovitch's words, especially as he felt +the injustice of his view. + +"I did not mean," he said over the soup, addressing Alexey +Alexandrovitch, "mere density of population alone, but in +conjunction with fundamental ideas, and not by means of +principles." + +"It seems to me," Alexey Alexandrovitch said languidly, and with +no haste, "that that's the same thing. In my opinion, influence +over another people is only possible to the people which has the +higher development, which..." + +"But that's just the question," Pestsov broke in in his bass. + +He was always in a hurry to speak, and seemed always to put his +whole soul into what he was saying. "In what are we to make +higher development consist? The English, the French, the +Germans, which is at the highest stage of development? Which of +them will nationalize the other? We see the Rhine provinces have +been turned French, but the Germans are not at a lower stage!" he +shouted. "There is another law at work there." + +"I fancy that the greater influence is always on the side of true +civilization," said Alexey Alexandrovitch, slightly lifting his +eyebrows. + +"But what are we to lay down as the outward signs of true +civilization?" said Pestsov. + +"I imagine such signs are generally very well known," said Alexey +Alexandrovitch. + +"But are they fully known?" Sergey Ivanovitch put in with a +subtle smile. "It is the accepted view now that real culture +must be purely classical; but we see most intense disputes on +each side of the question, and there is no denying that the +opposite camp has strong points in its favor." + +"You are for classics, Sergey Ivanovitch. Will you take red +wine?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +"I am not expressing my own opinion of either form of culture," +Sergey Ivanovitch said, holding out his glass with a smile of +condescension, as to a child. "I only say that both sides have +strong arguments to support them," he went on, addressing Alexey +Alexandrovitch. "My sympathies are classical from education, but +in this discussion I am personally unable to arrive at a +conclusion. I see no distinct grounds for classical studies +being given a preeminence over scientific studies." + +"The natural sciences have just as great an educational value," +put in Pestsov. "Take astronomy, take botany, or zoology with +its system of general principles." + +"I cannot quite agree with that," responded Alexey Alexandrovitch +"It seems to me that one must admit that the very process of +studying the forms of language has a peculiarly favorable +influence on intellectual development. Moreover, it cannot be +denied that the influence of the classical authors is in the +highest degree moral, while, unfortunately, with the study of the +natural sciences are associated the false and noxious doctrines +which are the curse of our day." + +Sergey Ivanovitch would have said something, but Pestsov +interrupted him in his rich bass. He began warmly contesting the +justice of this view. Sergey Ivanovitch waited serenely to +speak, obviously with a convincing reply ready. + +"But," said Sergey Ivanovitch, smiling subtly, and addressing +Karenin, "One must allow that to weigh all the advantages and +disadvantages of classical and scientific studies is a difficult +task, and the question which form of education was to be +preferred would not have been so quickly and conclusively decided +if there had not been in favor of classical education, as you +expressed it just now, its moral--disons le mot--anti-nihilist +influence." + +"Undoubtedly." + +"If it had not been for the distinctive property of +anti-nihilistic influence on the side of classical studies, we +should have considered the subject more, have weighed the +arguments on both sides," said Sergey Ivanovitch with a subtle +smile, "we should have given elbow-room to both tendencies. But +now we know that these little pills of classical learning possess +the medicinal property of anti-nihilism, and we boldly prescribe +them to our patients.... But what if they had no such medicinal +property?" he wound up humorously. + +At Sergey Ivanovitch's little pills, everyone laughed; Turovtsin +in especial roared loudly and jovially, glad at last to have +found something to laugh at, all he ever looked for in listening +to conversation. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch had not made a mistake in inviting Pestsov. +With Pestsov intellectual conversation never flagged for an +instant. Directly Sergey Ivanovitch had concluded the +conversation with his jest, Pestsov promptly started a new one. + +"I can't agree even," said he, "that the government had that aim. +The government obviously is guided by abstract considerations, +and remains indifferent to the influence its measures may +exercise. The education of women, for instance, would naturally +be regarded as likely to be harmful, but the government opens +schools and universities for women." + +And the conversation at once passed to the new subject of the +education of women. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch expressed the idea that the education of +women is apt to be confounded with the emancipation of women, and +that it is only so that it can be considered dangerous. + +"I consider, on the contrary, that the two questions are +inseparably connected together," said Pestsov; "it is a vicious +circle. Woman is deprived of rights from lack of education, and +the lack of education results from the absence of rights. We +must not forget that the subjection of women is so complete, and +dates from such ages back that we are often unwilling to +recognize the gulf that separates them from us," said he. + +"You said rights," said Sergey Ivanovitch, waiting till Pestsov +had finished, "meaning the right of sitting on juries, of voting, +of presiding at official meetings, the right of entering the +civil service, of sitting in parliament..." + +"Undoubtedly." + +"But if women, as a rare exception, can occupy such positions, it +seems to me you are wrong in using the expression 'rights.' It +would be more correct to say duties. Every man will agree that +in doing the duty of a juryman, a witness, a telegraph clerk, we +feel we are performing duties. And therefore it would be correct +to say that women are seeking duties, and quite legitimately. +And one can but sympathize with this desire to assist in the +general labor of man." + +"Quite so," Alexey Alexandrovitch assented. "The question, I +imagine, is simply whether they are fitted for such duties." + +"They will most likely be perfectly fitted," said Stepan +Arkadyevitch, "when education has become general among them. We +see this..." + +"How about the proverb?" said the prince, who had a long while +been intent on the conversation, his little comical eyes +twinkling. "I can say it before my daughter: her hair is long, +because her wit is..." + +"Just what they thought of the negroes before their +emancipation!" said Pestsov angrily. + +"What seems strange to me is that women should seek fresh +duties," said Sergey Ivanovitch, "while we see, unhappily, that +men usually try to avoid them." + +"Duties are bound up with rights--power, money, honor; those are +what women are seeking," said Pestsov. + +"Just as though I should seek the right to be a wet-nurse and +feel injured because women are paid for the work, while no one +will take me," said the old prince. + +Turovtsin exploded in a loud roar of laughter and Sergey +Ivanovitch regretted that he had not made this comparison. Even +Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled. + +"Yes, but a man can't nurse a baby," said Pestsov, "while a +woman..." + +"No, there was an Englishman who did suckle his baby on board +ship," said the old prince, feeling this freedom in conversation +permissible before his own daughters. + +"There are as many such Englishmen as there would be women +officials," said Sergey Ivanovitch. + +"Yes, but what is a girl to do who has no family?" put in Stepan +Arkadyevitch, thinking of Masha Tchibisova, whom he had had in +his mind all along, in sympathizing with Pestsov and supporting +him. + +"If the story of such a girl were thoroughly sifted, you would +find she had abandoned a family--her own or a sister's, where she +might have found a woman's duties," Darya Alexandrovna broke in +unexpectedly in a tone of exasperation, probably suspecting what +sort of girl Stepan Arkadyevitch was thinking of. + +"But we take our stand on principle as the ideal," replied +Pestsov in his mellow bass. "Woman desires to have rights, to be +independent, educated. She is oppressed, humiliated by the +consciousness of her disabilities." + +"And I'm oppressed and humiliated that they won't engage me at +the Foundling," the old prince said again, to the huge delight of +Turovtsin, who in his mirth dropped his asparagus with the thick +end in the sauce. + + + +Chapter 11 + + +Everyone took part in the conversation except Kitty and Levin. +At first, when they were talking of the influence that one people +has on another, there rose to Levin's mind what he had to say on +the subject. But these ideas, once of such importance in his +eyes, seemed to come into his brain as in a dream, and had now +not the slightest interest for him. It even struck him as +strange that they should be so eager to talk of what was of no +use to anyone. Kitty, too, should, one would have supposed, have +been interested in what they were saying of the rights and +education of women. How often she had mused on the subject, +thinking of her friend abroad, Varenka, of her painful state of +dependence, how often she had wondered about herself what would +become of her if she did not marry, and how often she had argued +with her sister about it! But it did not interest her at all. +She and Levin had a conversation of their own, yet not a +conversation, but some sort of mysterious communication, which +brought them every moment nearer, and stirred in both a sense of +glad terror before the unknown into which they were entering. + +At first Levin, in answer to Kitty's question how he could have +seen her last year in the carriage, told her how he had been +coming home from the mowing along the highroad and had met her. + +"It was very, very early in the morning. You were probably only +just awake. Your mother was asleep in the corner. It was an +exquisite morning. I was walking along wondering who it could be +in a four-in-hand? It was a splendid set of four horses with +bells, and in a second you flashed by, and I saw you at the +window--you were sitting like this, holding the strings of your +cap in both hands, and thinking awfully deeply about something," +he said, smiling. "How I should like to know what you were +thinking about then! Something important?" + +"Wasn't I dreadfully untidy?" she wondered, but seeing the smile +of ecstasy these reminiscences called up, she felt that the +impression she had made had been very good. She blushed and +laughed with delight; "Really I don't remember." + +"How nicely Turovtsin laughs!" said Levin, admiring his moist +eyes and shaking chest. + +"Have you known him long?" asked Kitty. + +"Oh, everyone knows him!" + +"And I see you think he's a horrid man?" + +"Not horrid, but nothing in him." + +"Oh, you're wrong! And you must give up thinking so directly!" +said Kitty. "I used to have a very poor opinion of him too, but +he, he's an awfully nice and wonderfully good-hearted man. He +has a heart of gold." + +"How could you find out what sort of heart he has?" + +"We are great friends. I know him very well. Last winter, soon +after...you came to see us," she said, with a guilty and at +the same time confiding smile, "all Dolly's children had scarlet +fever, and he happened to come and see her. And only fancy," she +said in a whisper, "he felt so sorry for her that he stayed and +began to help her look after the children. Yes, and for three +weeks he stopped with them, and looked after the children like a +nurse." + +"I am telling Konstantin Dmitrievitch about Turovtsin in the +scarlet fever," she said, bending over to her sister. + +"Yes, it was wonderful, noble!" said Dolly, glancing towards +Turovtsin, who had become aware they were talking of him, and +smiling gently to him. Levin glanced once more at Turovtsin, and +wondered how it was he had not realized all this man's goodness +before. + +"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, and I'll never think ill of people again!" +he said gaily, genuinely expressing what he felt at the moment. + + + +Chapter 12 + + +Connected with the conversation that had sprung up on the rights +of women there were certain questions as to the inequality of +rights in marriage improper to discuss before the ladies. +Pestsov had several times during dinner touched upon these +questions, but Sergey Ivanovitch and Stepan Arkadyevitch +carefully drew him off them. + +When they rose from the table and the ladies had gone out, +Pestsov did not follow them, but addressing Alexey +Alexandrovitch, began to expound the chief ground of inequality. +The inequality in marriage, in his opinion, lay in the fact that +the infidelity of the wife and the infidelity of the husband +are punished unequally, both by the law and by public opinion. +Stepan Arkadyevitch went hurriedly up to Alexey Alexandrovitch +and offered him a cigar. + +"No, I don't smoke," Alexey Alexandrovitch answered calmly, and +as though purposely wishing to show that he was not afraid of the +subject, he turned to Pestsov with a chilly smile. + +"I imagine that such a view has a foundation in the very nature +of things," he said, and would have gone on to the drawing room. +But at this point Turovtsin broke suddenly and unexpectedly into +the conversation, addressing Alexey Alexandrovitch. + +"You heard, perhaps, about Pryatchnikov?" said Turovtsin, warmed +up by the champagne he had drunk, and long waiting for an +opportunity to break the silence that had weighed on him. "Vasya +Pryatchnikov," he said, with a good-natured smile on his damp, +red lips, addressing himself principally to the most important +guest, Alexey Alexandrovitch, "they told me today he fought a +duel with Kvitsky at Tver, and has killed him." + +Just as it always seems that one bruises oneself on a sore place, +so Stepan Arkadyevitch felt now that the conversation would by +ill luck fall every moment on Alexey Alexandrovitch's sore spot. +He would again have got his brother-in-law away, but Alexey +Alexandrovitch himself inquired, with curiosity: + +"What did Pryatchnikov fight about?" + +"His wife. Acted like a man, he did! Called him out and shot +him!" + +"Ah!" said Alexey Alexandrovitch indifferently, and lifting his +eyebrows, he went into the drawing room. + +"How glad I am you have come," Dolly said with a frightened +smile, meeting him in the outer drawing room. "I must talk to +you. Let's sit here." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch, with the same expression of indifference, +given him by his lifted eyebrows, sat down beside Darya +Alexandrovna, and smiled affectedly. + +"It's fortunate," said he, "especially as I was meaning to ask +you to excuse me, and to be taking leave. I have to start +tomorrow." + +Darya Alexandrovna was firmly convinced of Anna's innocence, and +she felt herself growing pale and her lips quivering with anger +at this frigid, unfeeling man, who was so calmly intending to +ruin her innocent friend. + +"Alexey Alexandrovitch," she said, with desperate resolution +looking him in the face, "I asked you about Anna, you made me no +answer. How is she?" + +"She is, I believe, quite well, Darya Alexandrovna," replied +Alexey Alexandrovitch, not looking at her. + +"Alexey Alexandrovitch, forgive me, I have no right...but I +love Anna as a sister, and esteem her; I beg, I beseech you to +tell me what is wrong between you? what fault do you find with +her?" + +Alexey Alexandrovitch frowned, and almost closing his eyes, +dropped his head. + +"I presume that your husband has told you the grounds on which I +consider it necessary to change my attitude to Anna Arkadyevna?" +he said, not looking her in the face, but eyeing with displeasure +Shtcherbatsky, who was walking across the drawing room. + +"I don't believe it, I don't believe it, I can't believe it!" +Dolly said, clasping her bony hands before her with a vigorous +gesture. She rose quickly, and laid her hand on Alexey +Alexandrovitch's sleeve. "We shall be disturbed here. Come this +way, please." + +Dolly's agitation had an effect on Alexey Alexandrovitch. He got +up and submissively followed her to the schoolroom. They sat +down to a table covered with an oilcloth cut in slits by +penknives. + +"I don't, I don't believe it!" Dolly said, trying to catch his +glance that avoided her. + +"One cannot disbelieve facts, Darya Alexandrovna," said he, with +an emphasis on the word "facts." + +"But what has she done?" said Darya Alexandrovna. "What +precisely has she done?" + +"She has forsaken her duty, and deceived her husband. That's +what she has done," said he. + +"No, no, it can't be! No, for God's sake, you are mistaken," +said Dolly, putting her hands to her temples and closing her +eyes. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled coldly, with his lips alone, meaning +to signify to her and to himself the firmness of his conviction; +but this warm defense, though it could not shake him, reopened +his wound. He began to speak with greater heat. + +"It is extremely difficult to be mistaken when a wife herself +informs her husband of the fact--informs him that eight years of +her life, and a son, all that's a mistake, and that she wants to +begin life again," he said angrily, with a snort. + +"Anna and sin--I cannot connect them, I cannot believe it!" + +"Darya Alexandrovna," he said, now looking straight into Dolly's +kindly, troubled face, and feeling that his tongue was being +loosened in spite of himself, "I would give a great deal for +doubt to be still possible. When I doubted, I was miserable, but +it was better than now. When I doubted, I had hope; but now +there is no hope, and still I doubt of everything. I am in such +doubt of everything that I even hate my son, and sometimes do not +believe he is my son. I am very unhappy." + +He had no need to say that. Darya Alexandrovna had seen that as +soon as he glanced into her face; and she felt sorry for him, and +her faith in the innocence of her friend began to totter. + +"Oh, this is awful, awful! But can it be true that you are +resolved on a divorce?" + +"I am resolved on extreme measures. There is nothing else for me +to do." + +"Nothing else to do, nothing else to do..." she replied, with +tears in her eyes. "Oh no, don't say nothing else to do!" she +said. + +"What is horrible in a trouble of this kind is that one cannot, +as in any other--in loss, in death--bear one's trouble in peace, +but that one must act," said he, as though guessing her thought. +"One must get out of the humiliating position in which one is +placed; one can't live _a trois_." + +"I understand, I quite understand that," said Dolly, and her head +sank. She was silent for a little, thinking of herself, of her +own grief in her family, and all at once, with an impulsive +movement, she raised her head and clasped her hands with an +imploring gesture. "But wait a little! You are a Christian. +Think of her! What will become of her, if you cast her off?" + +"I have thought, Darya Alexandrovna, I have thought a great +deal," said Alexey Alexandrovitch. His face turned red in +patches, and his dim eyes looked straight before him. Darya +Alexandrovna at that moment pitied him with all her heart. "That +was what I did indeed when she herself made known to me my +humiliation; I left everything as of old. I gave her a chance to +reform, I tried to save her. And with what result? She would +not regard the slightest request--that she should observe +decorum," he said, getting heated. "One may save anyone who does +not want to be ruined; but if the whole nature is so corrupt, so +depraved, that ruin itself seems to be her salvation, what's to +be done?" + +"Anything, only not divorce!" answered Darya Alexandrovna + +"But what is anything?" + +"No, it is awful! She will be no one's wife, she will be lost!" + +"What can I do?" said Alexey Alexandrovitch, raising his +shoulders and his eyebrows. The recollection of his wife's last +act had so incensed him that he had become frigid, as at the +beginning of the conversation. "I am very grateful for your +sympathy, but I must be going," he said, getting up. + +"No, wait a minute. You must not ruin her. Wait a little; I +will tell you about myself. I was married, and my husband +deceived me; in anger and jealousy, I would have thrown up +everything, I would myself.... But I came to myself again; and +who did it? Anna saved me. And here I am living on. The +children are growing up, my husband has come back to his family, +and feels his fault, is growing purer, better, and I live on.... +I have forgiven it, and you ought to forgive!" + +Alexey Alexandrovitch heard her, but her words had no effect on +him now. All the hatred of that day when he had resolved on a +divorce had sprung up again in his soul. He shook himself, and +said in a shrill, loud voice:-- + +"Forgive I cannot, and do not wish to, and I regard it as wrong. +I have done everything for this woman, and she has trodden it all +in the mud to which she is akin. I am not a spiteful man, I have +never hated anyone, but I hate her with my whole soul, and I +cannot even forgive her, because I hate her too much for all the +wrong she has done me!" he said, with tones of hatred in his +voice. + +"Love those that hate you...." Darya Alexandrovna whispered +timorously. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled contemptuously. That he knew long +ago, but it could not be applied to his case. + +"Love those that hate you, but to love those one hates is +impossible. Forgive me for having troubled you. Everyone has +enough to bear in his own grief!" And regaining his +self-possession, Alexey Alexandrovitch quietly took leave and +went away. + + + +Chapter 13 + + +When they rose from table, Levin would have liked to follow Kitty +into the drawing room; but he was afraid she might dislike this, +as too obviously paying her attention. He remained in the little +ring of men, taking part in the general conversation, and without +looking at Kitty, he was aware of her movements, her looks, and +the place where she was in the drawing room. + +He did at once, and without the smallest effort, keep the promise +he had made her--always to think well of all men, and to like +everyone always. The conversation fell on the village commune, +in which Pestsov saw a sort of special principle, called by him +the choral principle. Levin did not agree with Pestsov, nor with +his brother, who had a special attitude of his own, both +admitting and not admitting the significance of the Russian +commune. But he talked to them, simply trying to reconcile and +soften their differences. He was not in the least interested in +what he said himself, and even less so in what they said; all he +wanted was that they and everyone should be happy and contented. +He knew now the one thing of importance; and that one thing was +at first there, in the drawing room, and then began moving across +and came to a standstill at the door. Without turning round he +felt the eyes fixed on him, and the smile, and he could not help +turning round. She was standing in the doorway with +Shtcherbatsky, looking at him. + +"I thought you were going towards the piano," said he, going up +to her. "That's something I miss in the country--music." + +"No; we only came to fetch you and thank you," she said, +rewarding him with a smile that was like a gift, "for coming. +What do they want to argue for? No one ever convinces anyone, +you know." + +"Yes; that's true," said Levin; "it generally happens that one +argues warmly simply because one can't make out what one's +opponent wants to prove." + +Levin had often noticed in discussions between the most +intelligent people that after enormous efforts, and an enormous +expenditure of logical subtleties and words, the disputants +finally arrived at being aware that what they had so long been +struggling to prove to one another had long ago, from the +beginning of the argument, been known to both, but that they +liked different things, and would not define what they liked for +fear of its being attacked. He had often had the experience of +suddenly in a discussion grasping what it was his opponent liked +and at once liking it too, and immediately he found himself +agreeing, and then all arguments fell away as useless. +Sometimes, too, he had experienced the opposite, expressing at +last what he liked himself, which he was devising arguments to +defend, and, chancing to express it well and genuinely, he had +found his opponent at once agreeing and ceasing to dispute his +position. He tried to say this. + +She knitted her brow, trying to understand. But directly he +began to illustrate his meaning, she understood at once. + +"I know: one must find out what he is arguing for, what is +precious to him, then one can..." + +She had completely guessed and expressed his badly expressed +idea. Levin smiled joyfully; he was struck by this transition +from the confused, verbose discussion with Pestsov and his +brother to this laconic, clear, almost wordless communication of +the most complex ideas. + +Shtcherbatsky moved away from them, and Kitty, going up to a +card table, sat down, and, taking up the chalk, began drawing +diverging circles over the new green cloth. + +They began again on the subject that had been started at dinner-- +the liberty and occupations of women. Levin was of the opinion +of Darya Alexandrovna that a girl who did not marry should find a +woman's duties in a family. He supported this view by the fact +that no family can get on without women to help; that in every +family, poor or rich, there are and must be nurses, either +relations or hired. + +"No," said Kitty, blushing, but looking at him all the more +boldly with her truthful eyes; "a girl may be so circumstanced +that she cannot live in the family without humiliation, while she +herself..." + +At the hint he understood her. + +"Oh, yes," he said. "Yes, yes, yes--you're right; you're right!" + +And he saw all that Pestsov had been maintaining at dinner of the +liberty of woman, simply from getting a glimpse of the terror of +an old maid's existence and its humiliation in Kitty's heart; and +loving her, he felt that terror and humiliation, and at once gave +up his arguments. + +A silence followed. She was still drawing with the chalk on the +table. Her eyes were shining with a soft light. Under the +influence of her mood he felt in all his being a continually +growing tension of happiness. + +"Ah! I've scribbled all over the table!" she said, and, laying +down the chalk, she made a movement as though to get up. + +"What! shall I be left alone--without her?" he thought with +horror, and he took the chalk. "Wait a minute," he said, sitting +down to the table. "I've long wanted to ask you one thing." + +He looked straight into her caressing, though frightened eyes. + +"Please, ask it." + +"Here," he said; and he wrote the initial letters, _w, y, t, m, i, +c, n, b, d, t, m, n, o, t_. These letters meant, "When you told +me it could never be, did that mean never, or then?" There +seemed no likelihood that she could make out this complicated +sentence; but he looked at her as though his life depended on her +understanding the words. She glanced at him seriously, then +leaned her puckered brow on her hands and began to read. Once or +twice she stole a look at him, as though asking him, "Is it what +I think?" + +"I understand," she said, flushing a little. + +"What is this word?" he said, pointing to the n that stood for +_never_. + +"It means _never_," she said; "but that's not true!" + +He quickly rubbed out what he had written, gave her the chalk, +and stood up. She wrote, _t, i, c, n, a, d_. + +Dolly was completely comforted in the depression caused by her +conversation with Alexey Alexandrovitch when she caught sight of +the two figures: Kitty with the chalk in her hand, with a shy and +happy smile looking upwards at Levin, and his handsome figure +bending over the table with glowing eyes fastened one minute on +the table and the next on her. He was suddenly radiant: he had +understood. It meant, "Then I could not answer differently." + +He glanced at her questioningly, timidly. + +"Only then?" + +"Yes," her smile answered. + +"And n...and now?" he asked. + +"Well, read this. I'll tell you what I should like--should like +so much!" she wrote the initial letters, i, y, c, f, a, f, w, h. +This meant, "If you could forget and forgive what happened." + +He snatched the chalk with nervous, trembling fingers, and +breaking it, wrote the initial letters of the following phrase, +"I have nothing to forget and to forgive; I have never ceased to +love you." + +She glanced at him with a smile that did not waver. + +"I understand," she said in a whisper. + +He sat down and wrote a long phrase. She understood it all, and +without asking him, "Is it this?" took the chalk and at once +answered. + +For a long while he could not understand what she had written, +and often looked into her eyes. He was stupefied with happiness. +He could not supply the word she had meant; but in her charming +eyes, beaming with happiness, he saw all he needed to know. And +he wrote three letters. But he had hardly finished writing when +she read them over her arm, and herself finished and wrote the +answer, "Yes." + +"You're playing _secretaire_?" said the old prince. "But we must +really be getting along if you want to be in time at the +theater." + +Levin got up and escorted Kitty to the door. + +In their conversation everything had been said; it had been said +that she loved him, and that she would tell her father and mother +that he would come tomorrow morning. + + + +Chapter 14 + + +When Kitty had gone and Levin was left alone, he felt such +uneasiness without her, and such an impatient longing to get as +quickly, as quickly as possible, to tomorrow morning, when he +would see her again and be plighted to her forever, that he felt +afraid, as though of death, of those fourteen hours that he had +to get through without her. It was essential for him to be with +someone to talk to, so as not to be left alone, to kill time. +Stepan Arkadyevitch would have been the companion most congenial +to him, but he was going out, he said, to a _soiree_, in reality to +the ballet. Levin only had time to tell him he was happy, and +that he loved him, and would never, never forget what he had done +for him. The eyes and the smile of Stepan Arkadyevitch showed +Levin that he comprehended that feeling fittingly. + +"Oh, so it's not time to die yet?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, +pressing Levin's hand with emotion. + +"N-n-no!" said Levin. + +Darya Alexandrovna too, as she said good-bye to him, gave him a +sort of congratulation, saying, "How glad I am you have met +Kitty again! One must value old friends." Levin did not like +these words of Darya Alexandrovna's. She could not understand +how lofty and beyond her it all was, and she ought not to have +dared to allude to it. Levin said good-bye to them, but, not to +be left alone, he attached himself to his brother. + +"Where are you going?" + +"I'm going to a meeting." + +"Well, I'll come with you. May I?" + +"What for? Yes, come along," said Sergey Ivanovitch, smiling. +"What is the matter with you today?" + +"With me? Happiness is the matter with me!" said Levin, letting +down the window of the carriage they were driving in. "You don't +mind?--it's so stifling. It's happiness is the matter with me! +Why is it you have never married?" + +Sergey Ivanovitch smiled. + +"I am very glad, she seems a nice gi..." Sergey Ivanovitch was +beginning. + +"Don't say it! don't say it!" shouted Levin, clutching at the +collar of his fur coat with both hands, and muffling him up in +it. "She's a nice girl" were such simple, humble words, so out +of harmony with his feeling. + +Sergey Ivanovitch laughed outright a merry laugh, which was rare +with him. "Well, anyway, I may say that I'm very glad of it." + +"That you may do tomorrow, tomorrow and nothing more! Nothing, +nothing, silence," said Levin, and muffling him once more in his +fur coat, he added: "I do like you so! Well, is it possible for +me to be present at the meeting?" + +"Of course it is." + +"What is your discussion about today?" asked Levin, never ceasing +smiling. + +They arrived at the meeting. Levin heard the secretary +hesitatingly read the minutes which he obviously did not himself +understand; but Levin saw from this secretary's face what a good, +nice, kind-hearted person he was. This was evident from his +confusion and embarrassment in reading the minutes. Then the +discussion began. They were disputing about the misappropriation +of certain sums and the laying of certain pipes, and Sergey +Ivanovitch was very cutting to two members, and said something at +great length with an air of triumph; and another member, +scribbling something on a bit of paper, began timidly at first, +but afterwards answered him very viciously and delightfully. And +then Sviazhsky (he was there too) said something too, very +handsomely and nobly. Levin listened to them, and saw clearly +that these missing sums and these pipes were not anything real, +and that they were not at all angry, but were all the nicest, +kindest people, and everything was as happy and charming as +possible among them. They did no harm to anyone, and were all +enjoying it. What struck Levin was that he could see through +them all today, and from little, almost imperceptible signs knew +the soul of each, and saw distinctly that they were all good at +heart. And Levin himself in particular they were all extremely +fond of that day. That was evident from the way they spoke to +him, from the friendly, affectionate way even those he did not +know looked at him. + +"Well, did you like it?" Sergey Ivanovitch asked him. + +"Very much. I never supposed it was so interesting! Capital! +Splendid!" + +Sviazhsky went up to Levin and invited him to come round to tea +with him. Levin was utterly at a loss to comprehend or recall +what it was he had disliked in Sviazhsky, what he had failed to +find in him. He was a clever and wonderfully good-hearted man. + +"Most delighted," he said, and asked after his wife and +sister-in-law. And from a queer association of ideas, because in +his imagination the idea of Sviazhsky's sister-in-law was +connected with marriage, it occurred to him that there was no one +to whom he could more suitably speak of his happiness, and he was +very glad to go and see them. + +Sviazhsky questioned him about his improvements on his estate, +presupposing, as he always did, that there was no possibility of +doing anything not done already in Europe, and now this did not +in the least annoy Levin. On the contrary, he felt that +Sviazhsky was right, that the whole business was of little value, +and he saw the wonderful softness and consideration with which +Sviazhsky avoided fully expressing his correct view. The ladies +of the Sviazhsky household were particularly delightful. It +seemed to Levin that they knew all about it already and +sympathized with him, saying nothing merely from delicacy. He +stayed with them one hour, two, three, talking of all sorts of +subjects but the one thing that filled his heart, and did not +observe that he was boring them dreadfully, and that it was long +past their bedtime. + +Sviazhsky went with him into the hall, yawning and wondering at +the strange humor his friend was in. It was past one o'clock. +Levin went back to his hotel, and was dismayed at the thought +that all alone now with his impatience he had ten hours still +left to get through. The servant, whose turn it was to be up all +night, lighted his candles, and would have gone away, but Levin +stopped him. This servant, Yegor, whom Levin had noticed before, +struck him as a very intelligent, excellent, and, above all, +good-hearted man. + +"Well, Yegor, it's hard work not sleeping, isn't it?" + +"One's got to put up with it! It's part of our work, you see. +In a gentleman's house it's easier; but then here one makes +more." + +It appeared that Yegor had a family, three boys and a daughter, a +sempstress, whom he wanted to marry to a cashier in a saddler's +shop. + +Levin, on hearing this, informed Yegor that, in his opinion, in +marriage the great thing was love, and that with love one would +always be happy, for happiness rests only on oneself. Yegor +listened attentively, and obviously quite took in Levin's idea, +but by way of assent to it he enunciated, greatly to Levin's +surprise, the observation that when he had lived with good +masters he had always been satisfied with his masters, and now +was perfectly satisfied with his employer, though he was a +Frenchman. + +"Wonderfully good-hearted fellow!" thought Levin. + +"Well, but you yourself, Yegor, when you got married, did you +love your wife?" + +"Ay! and why not?" responded Yegor. + +And Levin saw that Yegor too was in an excited state and +intending to express all his most heartfelt emotions. + +"My life, too, has been a wonderful one. From a child up..." he +was beginning with flashing eyes, apparently catching Levin's +enthusiasm, just as people catch yawning. + +But at that moment a ring was heard. Yegor departed, and Levin +was left alone. He had eaten scarcely anything at dinner, had +refused tea and supper at Sviazhsky's, but he was incapable of +thinking of supper. He had not slept the previous night, but was +incapable of thinking of sleep either. His room was cold, but he +was oppressed by heat. He opened both the movable panes in his +window and sat down to the table opposite the open panes. Over +the snow-covered roofs could be seen a decorated cross with +chains, and above it the rising triangle of Charles's Wain with +the yellowish light of Capella. He gazed at the cross, then at +the stars, drank in the fresh freezing air that flowed evenly +into the room, and followed as though in a dream the images and +memories that rose in his imagination. At four o'clock he heard +steps in the passage and peeped out at the door. It was the +gambler Myaskin, whom he knew, coming from the club. He walked +gloomily, frowning and coughing. "Poor, unlucky fellow!" thought +Levin, and tears came into his eyes from love and pity for this +man. He would have talked with him, and tried to comfort him, +but remembering that he had nothing but his shirt on, he changed +his mind and sat down again at the open pane to bathe in the cold +air and gaze at the exquisite lines of the cross, silent, but +full of meaning for him, and the mounting lurid yellow star. At +seven o'clock there was a noise of people polishing the floors, +and bells ringing in some servants' department, and Levin felt +that he was beginning to get frozen. He closed the pane, washed, +dressed, and went out into the street. + + + + +Chapter 15 + + +The streets were still empty. Levin went to the house of the +Shtcherbatskys. The visitors' doors were closed and everything +was asleep. He walked back, went into his room again, and asked +for coffee. The day servant, not Yegor this time, brought it to +him. Levin would have entered into conversation with him, but a +bell rang for the servant, and he went out. Levin tried to drink +coffee and put some roll in his mouth, but his mouth was quite at +a loss what to do with the roll. Levin, rejecting the roll, put +on his coat and went out again for a walk. It was nine o'clock +when he reached the Shtcherbatskys' steps the second time. In +the house they were only just up, and the cook came out to go +marketing. He had to get through at least two hours more. + +All that night and morning Levin lived perfectly unconsciously, +and felt perfectly lifted out of the conditions of material life. +He had eaten nothing for a whole day, he had not slept for two +nights, had spent several hours undressed in the frozen air, and +felt not simply fresher and stronger than ever, but felt utterly +independent of his body; he moved without muscular effort, and +felt as if he could do anything. He was convinced he could fly +upwards or lift the corner of the house, if need be. He spent +the remainder of the time in the street, incessantly looking at +his watch and gazing about him. + +And what he saw then, he never saw again after. The children +especially going to school, the bluish doves flying down from +the roofs to the pavement, and the little loaves covered with +flour, thrust out by an unseen hand, touched him. Those loaves, +those doves, and those two boys were not earthly creatures. It +all happened at the same time: a boy ran towards a dove and +glanced smiling at Levin; the dove, with a whir of her wings, +darted away, flashing in the sun, amid grains of snow that +quivered in the air, while from a little window there came a +smell of fresh-baked bread, and the loaves were put out. All of +this together was so extraordinarily nice that Levin laughed and +cried with delight. Going a long way round by Gazetny Place and +Kislovka, he went back again to the hotel, and putting his watch +before him, he sat down to wait for twelve o'clock. In the next +room they were talking about some sort of machines, and +swindling, and coughing their morning coughs. They did not +realize that the hand was near twelve. The hand reached it. +Levin went out onto the steps. The sledge-drivers clearly knew +all about it. They crowded round Levin with happy faces, +quarreling among themselves, and offering their services. Trying +not to offend the other sledge drivers, and promising to drive +with them too, Levin took one and told him to drive to the +Shtcherbatskys'. The sledge-driver was splendid in a white +shirt-collar sticking out over his overcoat and into his strong, +full-blooded red neck. The sledge was high and comfortable, and +altogether such a one as Levin never drove in after, and the +horse was a good one, and tried to gallop but didn't seem to +move. The driver knew the Shtcherbatskys' house, and drew up at +the entrance with a curve of his arm and a "Wo!" especially +indicative of respect for his fare. The Shtcherbatskys' +hall-porter certainly knew all about it. This was evident from +the smile in his eyes and the way he said: + +"Well, it's a long while since you've been to see us, Konstantin +Demitrievitch!" + +Not only he knew all about it, but he was unmistakably delighted +and making efforts to conceal his joy. Looking into his kindly +old eyes, Levin realized even something new in his happiness. + +"Are they up?" + +"Pray walk in! Leave it here," said he, smiling, as Levin would +have come back to take his hat. That meant something. + +"To whom shall I announce your honor?" asked the footman. + +The footman, though a young man, and one of the new school of +footmen, a dandy, was a very kind-hearted, good fellow, and he +too knew all about it. + +"The princess...the prince...the young princess..." said Levin. + +The first person he saw was Mademoiselle Linon. She walked +across the room, and her ringlets and her face were beaming. He +had only just spoken to her, when suddenly he heard the rustle of +a skirt at the door, and Mademoiselle Linon vanished from Levin's +eyes, and a joyful terror came over him at the nearness of his +happiness. Mademoiselle Linon was in great haste, and leaving +him, went out at the other door. Directly she had gone out, +swift, swift light steps sounded on the parquet, and his bliss, +his life, himself--what was best in himself, what he had so long +sought and longed for--was quickly, so quickly approaching him. +She did not walk, but seemed, by some unseen force, to float to +him. He saw nothing but her clear, truthful eyes, frightened by +the same bliss of love that flooded his heart. Those eyes were +shining nearer and nearer, blinding him with their light of love. +She stopped still close to him, touching him. Her hands rose and +dropped onto his shoulders. + +She had done all she could--she had run up to him and given +herself up entirely, shy and happy. He put his arms round her +and pressed his lips to her mouth that sought his kiss. + +She too had not slept all night, and had been expecting him all +the morning. + +Her mother and father had consented without demur, and were happy +in her happiness. She had been waiting for him. She wanted to +be the first to tell him her happiness and his. She had got +ready to see him alone, and had been delighted at the idea, and +had been shy and ashamed, and did not know herself what she was +doing. She had heard his steps and voice, and had waited at the +door for Mademoiselle Linon to go. Mademoiselle Linon had gone +away. Without thinking, without asking herself how and what, she +had gone up to him, and did as she was doing. + +"Let us go to mamma!" she said, taking him by the hand. For a +long while he could say nothing, not so much because he was +afraid of desecrating the loftiness of his emotion by a word, as +that every time he tried to say something, instead of words he +felt that tears of happiness were welling up. He took her hand +and kissed it. + +"Can it be true?" he said at last in a choked voice. "I can't +believe you love me, dear!" + +She smiled at that "dear," and at the timidity with which he +glanced at her. + +"Yes!" she said significantly, deliberately. "I am so happy!" + +Not letting go his hands, she went into the drawing room. The +princess, seeing them, breathed quickly, and immediately began to +cry and then immediately began to laugh, and with a vigorous step +Levin had not expected, ran up to him, and hugging his head, +kissed him, wetting his cheeks with her tears. + +"So it is all settled! I am glad. Love her. I am glad.... +Kitty!" + +"You've not been long settling things," said the old prince, +trying to seem unmoved; but Levin noticed that his eyes were wet +when he turned to him. + +"I've long, always wished for this!" said the prince, taking +Levin by the arm and drawing him towards himself. "Even when +this little feather-head fancied..." + +"Papa!" shrieked Kitty, and shut his mouth with her hands. + +"Well, I won't!" he said. "I'm very, very ...plea ...Oh, +what a fool I am..." + +He embraced Kitty, kissed her face, her hand, her face again, and +made the sign of the cross over her. + +And there came over Levin a new feeling of love for this man, +till then so little known to him, when he saw how slowly and +tenderly Kitty kissed his muscular hand. + + + +Chapter 16 + + +The princess sat in her armchair, silent and smiling; the prince +sat down beside her. Kitty stood by her father's chair, still +holding his hand. All were silent. + +The princess was the first to put everything into words, and to +translate all thoughts and feelings into practical questions. +And all equally felt this strange and painful for the first +minute. + +"When is it to be? We must have the benediction and +announcement. And when's the wedding to be? What do you think, +Alexander?" + +"Here he is," said the old prince, pointing to Levin--"he's the +principal person in the matter." + +"When?" said Levin blushing. "Tomorrow; If you ask me, I should +say, the benediction today and the wedding tomorrow." + +"Come, _mon cher_, that's nonsense!" + +"Well, in a week." + +"He's quite mad." + +"No, why so?" + +"Well, upon my word!" said the mother, smiling, delighted at this +haste. "How about the trousseau?" + +"Will there really be a trousseau and all that?" Levin thought +with horror. "But can the trousseau and the benediction and all +that--can it spoil my happiness? Nothing can spoil it!" He +glanced at Kitty, and noticed that she was not in the least, not +in the very least, disturbed by the idea of the trousseau. "Then +it must be all right," he thought. + +"Oh, I know nothing about it; I only said what I should like," +he said apologetically. + +"We'll talk it over, then. The benediction and announcement can +take place now. That's very well." + +The princess went up to her husband, kissed him, and would have +gone away, but he kept her, embraced her, and, tenderly as a young +lover, kissed her several times, smiling. The old people were +obviously muddled for a moment, and did not quite know whether it +was they who were in love again or their daughter. When the +prince and the princess had gone, Levin went up to his betrothed +and took her hand. He was self-possessed now and could speak, +and he had a great deal he wanted to tell her. But he said not +at all what he had to say. + +"How I knew it would be so! I never hoped for it; and yet in my +heart I was always sure," he said. "I believe that it was +ordained." + +"And I!" she said. "Even when...." She stopped and went on +again, looking at him resolutely with her truthful eyes, "Even +when I thrust from me my happiness. I always loved you alone, +but I was carried away. I ought to tell you.... Can you forgive +that?" + +"Perhaps it was for the best. You will have to forgive me so +much. I ought to tell you..." + +This was one of the things he had meant to speak about. He had +resolved from the first to tell her two things--that he was not +chaste as she was, and that he was not a believer. It was +agonizing, but he considered he ought to tell her both these +facts. + +"No, not now, later!" he said. + +"Very well, later, but you must certainly tell me. I'm not +afraid of anything. I want to know everything. Now it is +settled." + +He added: "Settled that you'll take me whatever I may be--you +won't give me up? Yes?" + +"Yes, yes." + +Their conversation was interrupted by Mademoiselle Linon, who +with an affected but tender smile came to congratulate her +favorite pupil. Before she had gone, the servants came in with +their congratulations. Then relations arrived, and there began +that state of blissful absurdity from which Levin did not emerge +till the day after his wedding. Levin was in a continual state +of awkwardness and discomfort, but the intensity of his happiness +went on all the while increasing. He felt continually that a +great deal was being expected of him--what, he did not know; and +he did everything he was told, and it all gave him happiness. He +had thought his engagement would have nothing about it like +others, that the ordinary conditions of engaged couples would +spoil his special happiness; but it ended in his doing exactly as +other people did, and his happiness being only increased thereby +and becoming more and more special, more and more unlike anything +that had ever happened. + +"Now we shall have sweetmeats to eat," said Mademoiselle Linon-- +and Levin drove off to buy sweetmeats. + +"Well, I'm very glad," said Sviazhsky. "I advise you to get the +bouquets from Fomin's." + +"Oh, are they wanted?" And he drove to Fomin's. + +His brother offered to lend him money, as he would have so many +expenses, presents to give.... + +"Oh, are presents wanted?" And he galloped to Foulde's. + +And at the confectioner's, and at Fomin's, and at Foulde's he saw +that he was expected; that they were pleased to see him, and +prided themselves on his happiness, just as every one whom he had +to do with during those days. What was extraordinary was that +everyone not only liked him, but even people previously +unsympathetic, cold, and callous, were enthusiastic over him, +gave way to him in everything, treated his feeling with +tenderness and delicacy, and shared his conviction that he was +the happiest man in the world because his betrothed was beyond +perfection. Kitty too felt the same thing. When Countess +Nordston ventured to hint that she had hoped for something +better, Kitty was so angry and proved so conclusively that +nothing in the world could be better than Levin, that Countess +Nordston had to admit it, and in Kitty's presence never met Levin +without a smile of ecstatic admiration. + +The confession he had promised was the one painful incident of +this time. He consulted the old prince, and with his sanction +gave Kitty his diary, in which there was written the confession +that tortured him. He had written this diary at the time with a +view to his future wife. Two things caused him anguish: his lack +of purity and his lack of faith. His confession of unbelief +passed unnoticed. She was religious, had never doubted the +truths of religion, but his external unbelief did not affect her +in the least. Through love she knew all his soul, and in his +soul she saw what she wanted, and that such a state of soul +should be called unbelieving was to her a matter of no account. +The other confession set her weeping bitterly. + +Levin, not without an inner struggle, handed her his diary. He +knew that between him and her there could not be, and should not +be, secrets, and so he had decided that so it must be. But he +had not realized what an effect it would have on her, he had not +put himself in her place. It was only when the same evening he +came to their house before the theater, went into her room and +saw her tear-stained, pitiful, sweet face, miserable with +suffering he had caused and nothing could undo, he felt the abyss +that separated his shameful past from her dovelike purity, and +was appalled at what he had done. + +"Take them, take these dreadful books!" she said, pushing away +the notebooks lying before her on the table. "Why did you give +them me? No, it was better anyway," she added, touched by his +despairing face. "But it's awful, awful!" + +His head sank, and he was silent. He could say nothing. + +"You can't forgive me," he whispered. + +"Yes, I forgive you; but it's terrible!" + +But his happiness was so immense that this confession did not +shatter it, it only added another shade to it. She forgave him; +but from that time more than ever he considered himself unworthy +of her, morally bowed down lower than ever before her, and prized +more highly than ever his undeserved happiness. + + + +Chapter 17 + + +Unconsciously going over in his memory the conversations that had +taken place during and after dinner, Alexey Alexandrovitch +returned to his solitary room. Darya Alexandrovna's words about +forgiveness had aroused in him nothing but annoyance. The +applicability or non-applicability of the Christian precept to +his own case was too difficult a question to be discussed +lightly, and this question had long ago been answered by Alexey +Alexandrovitch in the negative. Of all that had been said, what +stuck most in his memory was the phrase of stupid, good-natured +Turovtsin--"_Acted like a man, he did! Called him out and shot +him!_" Everyone had apparently shared this feeling, though from +politeness they had not expressed it. + +"But the matter is settled, it's useless thinking about it," +Alexey Alexandrovitch told himself. And thinking of nothing but +the journey before him, and the revision work he had to do, he +went into his room and asked the porter who escorted him where +his man was. The porter said that the man had only just gone +out. Alexey Alexandrovitch ordered tea to be sent him, sat down +to the table, and taking the guidebook, began considering the +route of his journey. + +"Two telegrams," said his manservant, coming into the room. "I +beg your pardon, your excellency; I'd only just that minute gone +out." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch took the telegrams and opened them. The +first telegram was the announcement of Stremov's appointment to +the very post Karenin had coveted. Alexey Alexandrovitch flung +the telegram down, and flushing a little, got up and began to +pace up and down the room. "_Quos vult perdere dementat_," he +said, meaning by _quos_ the persons responsible for this +appointment. He was not so much annoyed that he had not received +the post, that he had been conspicuously passed over; but it was +incomprehensible, amazing to him that they did not see that the +wordy phrase-monger Stremov was the last man fit for it. How +could they fail to see how they were ruining themselves, lowering +their _prestige_ by this appointment? + +"Something else in the same line," he said to himself bitterly, +opening the second telegram. The telegram was from his wife. +Her name, written in blue pencil, "Anna," was the first thing +that caught his eye. "I am dying; I beg, I implore you to come. +I shall die easier with your forgiveness," he read. He smiled +contemptuously, and flung down the telegram. That this was a +trick and a fraud, of that, he thought for the first minute, +there could be no doubt. + +"There is no deceit she would stick at. She was near her +confinement. Perhaps it is the confinement. But what can be +their aim? To legitimize the child, to compromise me, and +prevent a divorce," he thought. "But something was said in it: I +am dying...." He read the telegram again, and suddenly the plain +meaning of what was said in it struck him. + +"And if it is true?" he said to himself. "If it is true that in +the moment of agony and nearness to death she is genuinely +penitent, and I, taking it for a trick, refuse to go? That would +not only be cruel, and everyone would blame me, but it would be +stupid on my part." + +"Piotr, call a coach; I am going to Petersburg," he said to his +servant. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch decided that he would go to Petersburg and +see his wife. If her illness was a trick, he would say nothing +and go away again. If she was really in danger, and wished to +see him before her death, he would forgive her if he found her +alive, and pay her the last duties if he came too late. + +All the way he thought no more of what he ought to do. + +With a sense of weariness and uncleanness from the night spent in +the train, in the early fog of Petersburg Alexey Alexandrovitch +drove through the deserted Nevsky and stared straight before him, +not thinking of what was awaiting him. He could not think about +it, because in picturing what would happen, he could not drive +away the reflection that her death would at once remove all the +difficulty of his position. Bakers, closed shops, night-cabmen, +porters sweeping the pavements flashed past his eyes, and he +watched it all, trying to smother the thought of what was +awaiting him, and what he dared not hope for, and yet was hoping +for. He drove up to the steps. A sledge and a carriage with the +coachman asleep stood at the entrance. As he went into the +entry, Alexey Alexandrovitch, as it were, got out his resolution +from the remotest corner of his brain, and mastered it +thoroughly. Its meaning ran: "If it's a trick, then calm +contempt and departure. If truth, do what is proper." + +The porter opened the door before Alexey Alexandrovitch rang. +The porter, Kapitonitch, looked queer in an old coat, without a +tie, and in slippers. + +"How is your mistress?" + +"A successful confinement yesterday." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch stopped short and turned white. He felt +distinctly now how intensely he had longed for her death. + +"And how is she?" + +Korney in his morning apron ran downstairs. + +"Very ill," he answered. "There was a consultation yesterday, +and the doctor's here now." + +"Take my things," said Alexey Alexandrovitch, and feeling some +relief at the news that there was still hope of her death, he +went into the hall. + +On the hatstand there was a military overcoat. Alexey +Alexandrovitch noticed it and asked: + +"Who is here?" + +"The doctor, the midwife, and Count Vronsky." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch went into the inner rooms. + +In the drawing room there was no one; at the sound of his steps +there came out of her boudoir the midwife in a cap with lilac +ribbons. + +She went up to Alexey Alexandrovitch, and with the familiarity +given by the approach of death took him by the arm and drew him +towards the bedroom. + +"Thank God you've come! She keeps on about you and nothing but +you," she said. + +"Make haste with the ice!" the doctor's peremptory voice said +from the bedroom. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch went into her boudoir. + +At the table, sitting sideways in a low chair, was Vronsky, his +face hidden in his hands, weeping. He jumped up at the doctor's +voice, took his hands from his face, and saw Alexey +Alexandrovitch. Seeing the husband, he was so overwhelmed that +he sat down again, drawing his head down to his shoulders, as if +he wanted to disappear; but he made an effort over himself, got +up and said: + +"She is dying. The doctors say there is no hope. I am entirely +in your power, only let me be here...though I am at your +disposal. I..." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch, seeing Vronsky's tears, felt a rush of +that nervous emotion always produced in him by the sight of other +people's suffering, and turning away his face, he moved hurriedly +to the door, without hearing the rest of his words. From the +bedroom came the sound of Anna's voice saying something. Her +voice was lively, eager, with exceedingly distinct intonations. +Alexey Alexandrovitch went into the bedroom, and went up to the +bed. She was lying turned with her face towards him. Her cheeks +were flushed crimson, her eyes glittered, her little white hands +thrust out from the sleeves of her dressing gown were playing +with the quilt, twisting it about. It seemed as though she were +not only well and blooming, but in the happiest frame of mind. +She was talking rapidly, musically, and with exceptionally +correct articulation and expressive intonation. + +"For Alexey--I am speaking of Alexey Alexandrovitch (what a +strange and awful thing that both are Alexey, isn't it?)--Alexey +would not refuse me. I should forget, he would forgive.... But +why doesn't he come? He's so good he doesn't know himself how +good he is. Ah, my God, what agony! Give me some water, quick! +Oh, that will be bad for her, my little girl! Oh, very well +then, give her to a nurse. Yes, I agree, it's better in fact. +He'll be coming; it will hurt him to see her. Give her to the +nurse." + +"Anna Arkadyevna, he has come. Here he is!" said the midwife, +trying to attract her attention to Alexey Alexandrovitch. + +"Oh, what nonsense!" Anna went on, not seeing her husband. "No, +give her to me; give me my little one! He has not come yet. You +say he won't forgive me, because you don't know him. No one +knows him. I'm the only one, and it was hard for me even. His +eyes I ought to know--Seryozha has just the same eyes--and I +can't bear to see them because of it. Has Seryozha had his +dinner? I know everyone will forget him. He would not forget. +Seryozha must be moved into the corner room, and Mariette must be +asked to sleep with him." + +All of a sudden she shrank back, was silent; and in terror, as +though expecting a blow, as though to defend herself, she raised +her hands to her face. She had seen her husband. + +"No, no!" she began. "I am not afraid of him; I am afraid of +death. Alexey, come here. I am in a hurry, because I've no +time, I've not long left to live; the fever will begin directly +and I shall understand nothing more. Now I understand, I +understand it all, I see it all!" + +Alexey Alexandrovitch's wrinkled face wore an expression of +agony; he took her by the hand and tried to say something, but he +could not utter it; his lower lip quivered, but he still went on +struggling with his emotion, and only now and then glanced at +her. And each time he glanced at her, he saw her eyes gazing at +him with such passionate and triumphant tenderness as he had +never seen in them. + +"Wait a minute, you don't know...stay a little, stay!..." She +stopped, as though collecting her ideas. "Yes," she began; "yes, +yes, yes. This is what I wanted to say. Don't be surprised at +me. I'm still the same.... But there is another woman in me, +I'm afraid of her: she loved that man, and I tried to hate you, +and could not forget about her that used to be. I'm not that +woman. Now I'm my real self, all myself. I'm dying now, I know +I shall die, ask him. Even now I feel--see here, the weights on +my feet, on my hands, on my fingers. My fingers--see how huge +they are! But this will soon all be over.... Only one thing I +want: forgive me, forgive me quite. I'm terrible, but my nurse +used to tell me; the holy martyr--what was her name? She was +worse. And I'll go to Rome; there's a wilderness, and there I +shall be no trouble to any one, only I'll take Seryozha and the +little one.... No, you can't forgive me! I know, it can't be +forgiven! No, no, go away, you're too good!" She held his hand +in one burning hand, while she pushed him away with the other. + +The nervous agitation of Alexey Alexandrovitch kept increasing, +and had by now reached such a point that he ceased to struggle +with it. He suddenly felt that what he had regarded as nervous +agitation was on the contrary a blissful spiritual condition that +gave him all at once a new happiness he had never known. He did +not think that the Christian law that he had been all his life +trying to follow, enjoined on him to forgive and love his +enemies; but a glad feeling of love and forgiveness for his +enemies filled his heart. He knelt down, and laying his head in +the curve of her arm, which burned him as with fire through the +sleeve, he sobbed like a little child. She put her arm around +his head, moved towards him, and with defiant pride lifted up her +eyes. + +"That is he. I knew him! Now, forgive me, everyone, forgive +me!... They've come again; why don't they go away?... Oh, take +these cloaks off me!" + +The doctor unloosed her hands, carefully laying her on the +pillow, and covered her up to the shoulders. She lay back +submissively, and looked before her with beaming eyes. + +"Remember one thing, that I needed nothing but forgiveness, and +I want nothing more.... Why doesn't _he_ come?" she said, turning +to the door towards Vronsky. "Do come, do come! Give him your +hand." + +Vronsky came to the side of the bed, and seeing Anna, again hid +his face in his hands. + +"Uncover your face--look at him! He's a saint," she said. "Oh! +uncover your face, do uncover it!" she said angrily. "Alexey +Alexandrovitch, do uncover his face! I want to see him." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch took Vronsky's hands and drew them away +from his face, which was awful with the expression of agony and +shame upon it. + +"Give him your hand. Forgive him." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch gave him his hand, not attempting to +restrain the tears that streamed from his eyes. + +"Thank God, thank God!" she said, "now everything is ready. Only +to stretch my legs a little. There, that's capital. How badly +these flowers are done--not a bit like a violet," she said, +pointing to the hangings. "My God, my God! when will it end? +Give me some morphine. Doctor, give me some morphine! Oh, my +God, my God!" + +And she tossed about on the bed. + +The doctors said that it was puerperal fever, and that it was +ninety-nine chances in a hundred it would end in death. The +whole day long there was fever, delirium, and unconsciousness. +At midnight the patient lay without consciousness, and almost +without pulse. + +The end was expected every minute. + +Vronsky had gone home, but in the morning he came to inquire, and +Alexey Alexandrovitch meeting him in the hall, said: "Better +stay, she might ask for you," and himself led him to his wife's +boudoir. Towards morning, there was a return again of +excitement, rapid thought and talk, and again it ended in +unconsciousness. On the third day it was the same thing, and the +doctors said there was hope. That day Alexey Alexandrovitch went +into the boudoir where Vronsky was sitting, and closing the door +sat down opposite him. + +"Alexey Alexandrovitch," said Vronsky, feeling that a statement +of the position was coming, "I can't speak, I can't understand. +Spare me! However hard it is for you, believe me, it is more +terrible for me." + +He would have risen; but Alexey Alexandrovitch took him by the +hand and said: + +"I beg you to hear me out; it is necessary. I must explain my +feelings, the feelings that have guided me and will guide me, so +that you may not be in error regarding me. You know I had +resolved on a divorce, and had even begun to take proceedings. +I won't conceal from you that in beginning this I was in +uncertainty, I was in misery; I will confess that I was pursued +by a desire to revenge myself on you and on her. When I got the +telegram, I came here with the same feelings; I will say more, I +longed for her death. But...." He paused, pondering whether to +disclose or not to disclose his feeling to him. "But I saw her +and forgave her. And the happiness of forgiveness has revealed +to me my duty. I forgive completely. I would offer the other +cheek, I would give my cloak if my coat be taken. I pray to God +only not to take from me the bliss of forgiveness!" + +Tears stood in his eyes, and the luminous, serene look in them +impressed Vronsky. + +"This is my position: you can trample me in the mud, make me the +laughing-stock of the world, I will not abandon her, and I will +never utter a word of reproach to you," Alexey Alexandrovitch +went on. "My duty is clearly marked for me; I ought to be with +her, and I will be. If she wishes to see you, I will let you +know, but now I suppose it would be better for you to go away." + +He got up, and sobs cut short his words. Vronsky too was getting +up, and in a stooping, not yet erect posture, looked up at him +from under his brows. He did not understand Alexey +Alexandrovitch's feeling, but he felt that it was something +higher and even unattainable for him with his view of life. + + + +Chapter 18 + + +After the conversation with Alexey Alexandrovitch, Vronsky went +out onto the steps of the Karenins' house and stood still, with +difficulty remembering where he was, and where he ought to walk +or drive. He felt disgraced, humiliated, guilty, and deprived of +all possibility of washing away his humiliation. He felt thrust +out of the beaten track along which he had so proudly and lightly +walked till then. All the habits and rules of his life that had +seemed so firm, had turned out suddenly false and inapplicable. +The betrayed husband, who had figured till that time as a +pitiful creature, an incidental and somewhat ludicrous obstacle +to his happiness, had suddenly been summoned by her herself, +elevated to an awe-inspiring pinnacle, and on the pinnacle that +husband had shown himself, not malignant, not false, not +ludicrous, but kind and straightforward and large. Vronsky could +not but feel this, and the parts were suddenly reversed. Vronsky +felt his elevation and his own abasement, his truth and his own +falsehood. He felt that the husband was magnanimous even in his +sorrow, while he had been base and petty in his deceit. But this +sense of his own humiliation before the man he had unjustly +despised made up only a small part of his misery. He felt +unutterably wretched now, for his passion for Anna, which had +seemed to him of late to be growing cooler, now that he knew he +had lost her forever, was stronger than ever it had been. He had +seen all of her in her illness, had come to know her very soul, +and it seemed to him that he had never loved her till then. And +now when he had learned to know her, to love her as she should be +loved, he had been humiliated before her, and had lost her +forever, leaving with her nothing of himself but a shameful +memory. Most terrible of all had been his ludicrous, shameful +position when Alexey Alexandrovitch had pulled his hands away +from his humiliated face. He stood on the steps of the Karenins' +house like one distraught, and did not know what to do. + +"A sledge, sir?" asked the porter. + +"Yes, a sledge." + +On getting home, after three sleepless nights, Vronsky, without +undressing, lay down flat on the sofa, clasping his hands and +laying his head on them. His head was heavy. Images, memories, +and ideas of the strangest description followed one another with +extraordinary rapidity and vividness. First it was the medicine +he had poured out for the patient and spilt over the spoon, then +the midwife's white hands, then the queer posture of Alexey +Alexandrovitch on the floor beside the bed. + +"To sleep! To forget!" he said to himself with the serene +confidence of a healthy man that if he is tired and sleepy, he +will go to sleep at once. And the same instant his head did +begin to feel drowsy and he began to drop off into forgetfulness. +The waves of the sea of unconsciousness had begun to meet over +his head, when all at once--it was as though a violent shock of +electricity had passed over him. He started so that he leaped up +on the springs of the sofa, and leaning on his arms got in a +panic onto his knees. His eyes were wide open as though he had +never been asleep. The heaviness in his head and the weariness +in his limbs that he had felt a minute before had suddenly gone. + +"You may trample me in the mud," he heard Alexey Alexandrovitch's +words and saw him standing before him, and saw Anna's face with +its burning flush and glittering eyes, gazing with love and +tenderness not at him but at Alexey Alexandrovitch; he saw his +own, as he fancied, foolish and ludicrous figure when Alexey +Alexandrovitch took his hands away from his face. He stretched +out his legs again and flung himself on the sofa in the same +position and shut his eyes. + +"To sleep! To forget!" he repeated to himself. But with his +eyes shut he saw more distinctly than ever Anna's face as it had +been on the memorable evening before the races. + +"That is not and will not be, and she wants to wipe it out of her +memory. But I cannot live without it. How can we be reconciled? +how can we be reconciled?" he said aloud, and unconsciously began +to repeat these words. This repetition checked the rising up of +fresh images and memories, which he felt were thronging in his +brain. But repeating words did not check his imagination for +long. Again in extraordinarily rapid succession his best moments +rose before his mind, and then his recent humiliation. "Take +away his hands," Anna's voice says. He takes away his hands and +feels the shamestruck and idiotic expression of his face. + +He still lay down, trying to sleep, though he felt there was not +the smallest hope of it, and kept repeating stray words from some +chain of thought, trying by this to check the rising flood of +fresh images. He listened, and heard in a strange, mad whisper +words repeated: "I did not appreciate it, did not make enough of +it. I did not appreciate it, did not make enough of it." + +"What's this? Am I going out of my mind?" he said to himself. +"Perhaps. What makes men go out of their minds; what makes men +shoot themselves?" he answered himself, and opening his eyes, he +saw with wonder an embroidered cushion beside him, worked by +Varya, his brother's wife. He touched the tassel of the cushion, +and tried to think of Varya, of when he had seen her last. But +to think of anything extraneous was an agonizing effort. "No, I +must sleep!" He moved the cushion up, and pressed his head into +it, but he had to make an effort to keep his eyes shut. He +jumped up and sat down. "That's all over for me," he said to +himself. "I must think what to do. What is left?" His mind +rapidly ran through his life apart from his love of Anna. + +"Ambition? Serpuhovskoy? Society? The court?" He could not +come to a pause anywhere. All of it had had meaning before, but +now there was no reality in it. He got up from the sofa, took +off his coat, undid his belt, and uncovering his hairy chest to +breathe more freely, walked up and down the room. "This is how +people go mad," he repeated, "and how they shoot themselves...to +escape humiliation," he added slowly. + +He went to the door and closed it, then with fixed eyes and +clenched teeth he went up to the table, took a revolver, looked +round him, turned it to a loaded barrel, and sank into thought. +For two minutes, his head bent forward with an expression of an +intense effort of thought, he stood with the revolver in his +hand, motionless, thinking. + +"Of course," he said to himself, as though a logical, continuous, +and clear chain of reasoning had brought him to an indubitable +conclusion. In reality this "of course," that seemed convincing +to him, was simply the result of exactly the same circle of +memories and images through which he had passed ten times already +during the last hour--memories of happiness lost forever. There +was the same conception of the senselessness of everything to +come in life, the same consciousness of humiliation. Even the +sequence of these images and emotions was the same. + +"Of course," he repeated, when for the third time his thought +passed again round the same spellbound circle of memories and +images, and pulling the revolver to the left side of his chest, +and clutching it vigorously with his whole hand, as it were, +squeezing it in his fist, he pulled the trigger. He did not hear +the sound of the shot, but a violent blow on his chest sent him +reeling. He tried to clutch at the edge of the table, dropped +the revolver, staggered, and sat down on the ground, looking +about him in astonishment. He did not recognize his room, +looking up from the ground, at the bent legs of the table, at the +wastepaper basket, and the tiger-skin rug. The hurried, creaking +steps of his servant coming through the drawing room brought him +to his senses. He made an effort at thought, and was aware that +he was on the floor; and seeing blood on the tiger-skin rug and +on his arm, he knew he had shot himself. + +"Idiotic! Missed!" he said, fumbling after the revolver. The +revolver was close beside him--he sought further off. Still +feeling for it, he stretched out to the other side, and not being +strong enough to keep his balance, fell over, streaming with +blood. + +The elegant, whiskered manservant, who used to be continually +complaining to his acquaintances of the delicacy of his nerves, +was so panic-stricken on seeing his master lying on the floor, +that he left him losing blood while he ran for assistance. An +hour later Varya, his brother's wife, had arrived, and with the +assistance of three doctors, whom she had sent for in all +directions, and who all appeared at the same moment, she got the +wounded man to bed, and remained to nurse him. + + + +Chapter 19 + + +The mistake made by Alexey Alexandrovitch in that, when preparing +for seeing his wife, he had overlooked the possibility that her +repentance might be sincere, and he might forgive her, and she +might not die--this mistake was two months after his return from +Moscow brought home to him in all its significance. But the +mistake made by him had arisen not simply from his having +overlooked that contingency, but also from the fact that until +that day of his interview with his dying wife, he had not known +his own heart. At his sick wife's bedside he had for the first +time in his life given way to that feeling of sympathetic +suffering always roused in him by the sufferings of others, and +hitherto looked on by him with shame as a harmful weakness. And +pity for her, and remorse for having desired her death, and most +of all, the joy of forgiveness, made him at once conscious, not +simply of the relief of his own sufferings, but of a spiritual +peace he had never experienced before. He suddenly felt that the +very thing that was the source of his sufferings had become the +source of his spiritual joy; that what had seemed insoluble while +he was judging, blaming, and hating, had become clear and simple +when he forgave and loved. + +He forgave his wife and pitied her for her sufferings and her +remorse. He forgave Vronsky, and pitied him, especially after +reports reached him of his despairing action. He felt more for +his son than before. And he blamed himself now for having taken +too little interest in him. But for the little newborn baby he +felt a quite peculiar sentiment, not of pity, only, but of +tenderness. At first, from a feeling of compassion alone, he had +been interested in the delicate little creature, who was not his +child, and who was cast on one side during her mother's illness, +and would certainly have died if he had not troubled about her, +and he did not himself observe how fond he became of her. He +would go into the nursery several times a day, and sit there for +a long while, so that the nurses, who were at first afraid of +him, got quite used to his presence. Sometimes for half an hour +at a stretch he would sit silently gazing at the saffron-red, +downy, wrinkled face of the sleeping baby, watching the movements +of the frowning brows, and the fat little hands, with clenched +fingers, that rubbed the little eyes and nose. At such moments +particularly, Alexey Alexandrovitch had a sense of perfect peace +and inward harmony, and saw nothing extraordinary in his +position, nothing that ought to be changed. + +But as time went on, he saw more and more distinctly that however +natural the position now seemed to him, he would not long be +allowed to remain in it. He felt that besides the blessed +spiritual force controlling his soul, there was another, a brutal +force, as powerful, or more powerful, which controlled his life, +and that this force would not allow him that humble peace he +longed for. He felt that everyone was looking at him with +inquiring wonder, that he was not understood, and that something +was expected of him. Above all, he felt the instability and +unnaturalness of his relations with his wife. + +When the softening effect of the near approach of death had +passed away, Alexey Alexandrovitch began to notice that Anna was +afraid of him, ill at ease with him, and could not look him +straight in the face. She seemed to be wanting, and not daring, +to tell him something; and as though foreseeing their present +relations could not continue, she seemed to be expecting +something from him. + +Towards the end of February it happened that Anna's baby +daughter, who had been named Anna too, fell ill. Alexey +Alexandrovitch was in the nursery in the morning, and leaving +orders for the doctor to be sent for, he went to his office. On +finishing his work, he returned home at four. Going into the +hall he saw a handsome groom, in a braided livery and a bear fur +cape, holding a white fur cloak. + +"Who is here?" asked Alexey Alexandrovitch. + +"Princess Elizaveta Federovna Tverskaya," the groom answered, and +it seemed to Alexey Alexandrovitch that he grinned. + +During all this difficult time Alexey Alexandrovitch had noticed +that his worldly acquaintances, especially women, took a peculiar +interest in him and his wife. All these acquaintances he +observed with difficulty concealing their mirth at something; the +same mirth that he had perceived in the lawyer's eyes, and just +now in the eyes of this groom. Everyone seemed, somehow, hugely +delighted, as though they had just been at a wedding. When they +met him, with ill-disguised enjoyment they inquired after his +wife's health. The presence of Princess Tverskaya was unpleasant +to Alexey Alexandrovitch from the memories associated with her, +and also because he disliked her, and he went straight to the +nursery. In the day nursery Seryozha, leaning on the table with +his legs on a chair, was drawing and chatting away merrily. The +English governess, who had during Anna's illness replaced the +French one, was sitting near the boy knitting a shawl. She +hurriedly got up, curtseyed, and pulled Seryozha. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch stroked his son's hair, answered the +governess's inquiries about his wife, and asked what the doctor +had said of the baby. + +"The doctor said it was nothing serious, and he ordered a bath, +sir." + +"But she is still in pain," said Alexey Alexandrovitch, listening +to the baby's screaming in the next room. + +"I think it's the wet-nurse, sir," the Englishwoman said firmly. + +"What makes you think so?" he asked, stopping short. + +"It's just as it was at Countess Paul's, sir. They gave the baby +medicine, and it turned out that the baby was simply hungry: the +nurse had no milk, sir." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch pondered, and after standing still a few +seconds he went in at the other door. The baby was lying with +its head thrown back, stiffening itself in the nurse's arms, and +would not take the plump breast offered it; and it never ceased +screaming in spite of the double hushing of the wet-nurse and the +other nurse, who was bending over her. + +"Still no better?" said Alexey Alexandrovitch. + +"She's very restless," answered the nurse in a whisper. + +"Miss Edwarde says that perhaps the wet-nurse has no milk," he +said. + +"I think so too, Alexey Alexandrovitch." + +"Then why didn't you say so?" + +"Who's one to say it to? Anna Arkadyevna still ill..." said the +nurse discontentedly. + +The nurse was an old servant of the family. And in her simple +words there seemed to Alexey Alexandrovitch an allusion to his +position. + +The baby screamed louder than ever, struggling and sobbing. The +nurse, with a gesture of despair, went to it, took it from the +wet-nurse's arms, and began walking up and down, rocking it. + +"You must ask the doctor to examine the wet-nurse," said Alexey +Alexandrovitch. The smartly dressed and healthy-looking nurse, +frightened at the idea of losing her place, muttered something to +herself, and covering her bosom, smiled contemptuously at the +idea of doubts being cast on her abundance of milk. In that +smile, too, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw a sneer at his position. + +"Luckless child!" said the nurse, hushing the baby, and still +walking up and down with it. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch sat down, and with a despondent and +suffering face watched the nurse walking to and fro. + +When the child at last was still, and had been put in a deep bed, +and the nurse, after smoothing the little pillow, had left her, +Alexey Alexandrovitch got up, and walking awkwardly on tiptoe, +approached the baby. For a minute he was still, and with the +same despondent face gazed at the baby; but all at once a smile, +that moved his hair and the skin of his forehead, came out on his +face, and he went as softly out of the room. + +In the dining room he rang the bell, and told the servant who +came in to send again for the doctor. He felt vexed with his +wife for not being anxious about this exquisite baby, and in this +vexed humor he had no wish to go to her; he had no wish, either, +to see Princess Betsy. But his wife might wonder why he did not +go to her as usual; and so, overcoming his disinclination, he +went towards the bedroom. As he walked over the soft rug towards +the door, he could not help overhearing a conversation he did not +want to hear. + +"If he hadn't been going away, I could have understood your +answer and his too. But your husband ought to be above that," +Betsy was saying. + +"It's not for my husband; for myself I don't wish it. Don't say +that!" answered Anna's excited voice. + +"Yes, but you must care to say good-bye to a man who has shot +himself on your account...." + +"That's just why I don't want to." + +With a dismayed and guilty expression, Alexey Alexandrovitch +stopped and would have gone back unobserved. But reflecting that +this would be undignified, he turned back again, and clearing his +throat, he went up to the bedroom. The voices were silent, and +he went in. + +Anna, in a gray dressing gown, with a crop of short clustering +black curls on her round head, was sitting on a settee. The +eagerness died out of her face, as it always did, at the sight of +her husband; she dropped her head and looked round uneasily at +Betsy. Betsy, dressed in the height of the latest fashion, in a +hat that towered somewhere over her head like a shade on a lamp, +in a blue dress with violet crossway stripes slanting one way on +the bodice and the other way on the skirt, was sitting beside +Anna, her tall flat figure held erect. Bowing her head, she +greeted Alexey Alexandrovitch with an ironical smile. + +"Ah!" she said, as though surprised. "I'm very glad you're at +home. You never put in an appearance anywhere, and I haven't +seen you ever since Anna has been ill. I have heard all about +it--your anxiety. Yes, you're a wonderful husband!" she said, +with a meaning and affable air, as though she were bestowing an +order of magnanimity on him for his conduct to his wife. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch bowed frigidly, and kissing his wife's +hand, asked how she was. + +"Better, I think," she said, avoiding his eyes. + +"But you've rather a feverish-looking color," he said, laying +stress on the word "feverish." + +"We've been talking too much," said Betsy. "I feel it's +selfishness on my part, and I am going away." + +She got up, but Anna, suddenly flushing, quickly caught at her +hand. + +"No, wait a minute, please. I must tell you...no, you." she +turned to Alexey Alexandrovitch, and her neck and brow were +suffused with crimson. "I won't and can't keep anything secret +from you," she said. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch cracked his fingers and bowed his head. + +"Betsy's been telling me that Count Vronsky wants to come here to +say good-bye before his departure for Tashkend." She did not +look at her husband, and was evidently in haste to have +everything out, however hard it might be for her. "I told her I +could not receive him." + +"You said, my dear, that it would depend on Alexey +Alexandrovitch," Betsy corrected her. + +"Oh, no, I can't receive him; and what object would there...." +She stopped suddenly, and glanced inquiringly at her husband (he +did not look at her). "In short, I don't wish it...." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch advanced and would have taken her hand. + +Her first impulse was to jerk back her hand from the damp hand +with big swollen veins that sought hers, but with an obvious +effort to control herself she pressed his hand. + +"I am very grateful to you for your confidence, but..." he said, +feeling with confusion and annoyance that what he could decide +easily and clearly by himself, he could not discuss before +Princess Tverskaya, who to him stood for the incarnation of that +brute force which would inevitably control him in the life he led +in the eyes of the world, and hinder him from giving way to his +feeling of love and forgiveness. He stopped short, looking at +Princess Tverskaya. + +"Well, good-bye, my darling," said Betsy, getting up. She kissed +Anna, and went out. Alexey Alexandrovitch escorted her out. + +"Alexey Alexandrovitch! I know you are a truly magnanimous man," +said Betsy, stopping in the little drawing-room, and with special +warmth shaking hands with him once more. "I am an outsider, but +I so love her and respect you that I venture to advise. Receive +him. Alexey Vronsky is the soul of honor, and he is going away +to Tashkend." + +"Thank you, princess, for your sympathy and advice. But the +question of whether my wife can or cannot see anyone she must +decide herself." + +He said this from habit, lifting his brows with dignity, and +reflected immediately that whatever his words might be, there +could be no dignity in his position. And he saw this by the +suppressed, malicious, and ironical smile with which Betsy +glanced at him after this phrase. + + + +Chapter 20 + + +Alexey Alexandrovitch took leave of Betsy in the drawing room, +and went to his wife. She was lying down, but hearing his steps +she sat up hastily in her former attitude, and looked in a scared +way at him. He saw she had been crying. + +"I am very grateful for your confidence in me." He repeated +gently in Russian the phrase he had said in Betsy's presence in +French, and sat down beside her. When he spoke to her in +Russian, using the Russian "thou" of intimacy and affection, it +was insufferably irritating to Anna. "And I am very grateful for +your decision. I, too, imagine that since he is going away, +there is no sort of necessity for Count Vronsky to come here. +However, if..." + +"But I've said so already, so why repeat it?" Anna suddenly +interrupted him with an irritation she could not succeed in +repressing. "No sort of necessity," she thought, "for a man to +come and say good-bye to the woman he loves, for whom he was +ready to ruin himself, and has ruined himself, and who cannot +live without him. No sort of necessity!" she compressed her +lips, and dropped her burning eyes to his hands with their +swollen veins. They were rubbing each other. + +"Let us never speak of it," she added more calmly. + +"I have left this question to you to decide, and I am very glad +to see..." Alexey Alexandrovitch was beginning. + +"That my wish coincides with your own," she finished quickly, +exasperated at his talking so slowly while she knew beforehand +all he would say. + +"Yes," he assented; "and Princess Tverskaya's interference in the +most difficult private affairs is utterly uncalled for. She +especially..." + +"I don't believe a word of what's said about her," said Anna +quickly. "I know she really cares for me." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch sighed and said nothing. She played +nervously with the tassel of her dressing-gown, glancing at him +with that torturing sensation of physical repulsion for which she +blamed herself, though she could not control it. Her only desire +now was to be rid of his oppressive presence. + +"I have just sent for the doctor," said Alexey Alexandrovitch. + +"I am very well; what do I want the doctor for?" + +"No, the little one cries, and they say the nurse hasn't enough +milk." + +"Why didn't you let me nurse her, when I begged to? Anyway" +(Alexey Alexandrovitch knew what was meant by that "anyway"), +"she's a baby, and they're killing her." She rang the bell and +ordered the baby to be brought her. "I begged to nurse her, I +wasn't allowed to, and now I'm blamed for it." + +"I don't blame..." + +"Yes, you do blame me! My God! why didn't I die!" And she broke +into sobs. "Forgive me, I'm nervous, I'm unjust," she said, +controlling herself, "but do go away..." + +"No, it can't go on like this," Alexey Alexandrovitch said to +himself decidedly as he left his wife's room. + +Never had the impossibility of his position in the world's eyes, +and his wife's hatred of him, and altogether the might of that +mysterious brutal force that guided his life against his +spiritual inclinations, and exacted conformity with its decrees +and change in his attitude to his wife, been presented to him +with such distinctness as that day. He saw clearly that all the +world and his wife expected of him something, but what exactly, +he could not make out. He felt that this was rousing in his soul +a feeling of anger destructive of his peace of mind and of all +the good of his achievement. He believed that for Anna herself +it would be better to break off all relations with Vronsky; but +if they all thought this out of the question, he was even ready +to allow these relations to be renewed, so long as the children +were not disgraced, and he was not deprived of them nor forced to +change his position. Bad as this might be, it was anyway better +than a rupture, which would put her in a hopeless and shameful +position, and deprive him of everything he cared for. But he +felt helpless; he knew beforehand that every one was against him, +and that he would not be allowed to do what seemed to him now so +natural and right, but would be forced to do what was wrong, +though it seemed the proper thing to them. + + + +Chapter 21 + + +Before Betsy had time to walk out of the drawing-room, she was +met in the doorway by Stepan Arkadyevitch, who had just come from +Yeliseev's, where a consignment of fresh oysters had been +received. + +"Ah! princess! what a delightful meeting!" he began. "I've been +to see you." + +"A meeting for one minute, for I'm going," said Betsy, smiling +and putting on her glove. + +"Don't put on your glove yet, princess; let me kiss your hand. +There's nothing I'm so thankful to the revival of the old +fashions for as the kissing the hand." He kissed Betsy's hand. +"When shall we see each other?" + +"You don't deserve it," answered Betsy, smiling. + +"Oh, yes, I deserve a great deal, for I've become a most serious +person. I don't only manage my own affairs, but other people's +too," he said, with a significant expression. + +"Oh, I'm so glad!" answered Betsy, at once understanding that he +was speaking of Anna. And going back into the drawing room, they +stood in a corner. "He's killing her," said Betsy in a whisper +full of meaning. "It's impossible, impossible..." + +"I'm so glad you think so," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, shaking his +head with a serious and sympathetically distressed expression, +"that's what I've come to Petersburg for." + +"The whole town's talking of it," she said. "It's an impossible +position. She pines and pines away. He doesn't understand that +she's one of those women who can't trifle with their feelings. +One of two things: either let him take her away, act with +energy, or give her a divorce. This is stifling her." + +"Yes, yes...just so..." Oblonsky said, sighing. "That's what +I've come for. At least not solely for that...I've been made a +_Kammerherr_; of course, one has to say thank you. But the chief +thing was having to settle this." + +"Well, God help you!" said Betsy. + +After accompanying Betsy to the outside hall, once more kissing +her hand above the glove, at the point where the pulse beats, and +murmuring to her such unseemly nonsense that she did not know +whether to laugh or be angry, Stepan Arkadyevitch went to his +sister. He found her in tears. + +Although he happened to be bubbling over with good spirits, +Stepan Arkadyevitch immediately and quite naturally fell into the +sympathetic, poetically emotional tone which harmonized with her +mood. He asked her how she was, and how she had spent the +morning. + +"Very, very miserably. Today and this morning and all past days +and days to come," she said. + +"I think you're giving way to pessimism. You must rouse +yourself, you must look life in the face. I know it's hard, +but..." + +"I have heard it said that women love men even for their vices," +Anna began suddenly, "but I hate him for his virtues. I can't +live with him. Do you understand? the sight of him has a +physical effect on me, it makes me beside myself. I can't, I +can't live with him. What am I to do? I have been unhappy, and +used to think one couldn't be more unhappy, but the awful state +of things I am going through now, I could never have conceived. +Would you believe it, that knowing he's a good man, a splendid +man, that I'm not worth his little finger, still I hate him. I +hate him for his generosity. And there's nothing left for me +but..." + +She would have said death, but Stepan Arkadyevitch would not let +her finish. + +"You are ill and overwrought," he said; "believe me, you're +exaggerating dreadfully. There's nothing so terrible in it." + +And Stepan Arkadyevitch smiled. No one else in Stepan +Arkadyevitch's place, having to do with such despair, would have +ventured to smile (the smile would have seemed brutal); but in +his smile there was so much of sweetness and almost feminine +tenderness that his smile did not wound, but softened and +soothed. His gentle, soothing words and smiles were as soothing +and softening as almond oil. And Anna soon felt this. + +"No, Stiva," she said, "I'm lost, lost! worse than lost! I can't +say yet that all is over; on the contrary, I feel that it's not +over. I'm an overstrained string that must snap. But it's not +ended yet...and it will have a fearful end." + +"No matter, we must let the string be loosened, little by little. +There's no position from which there is no way of escape." + +"I have thought, and thought. Only one..." + +Again he knew from her terrified eyes that this one way of escape +in her thought was death, and he would not let her say it. + +"Not at all," he said. "Listen to me. You can't see your own +position as I can. Let me tell you candidly my opinion." Again +he smiled discreetly his almond-oil smile. "I'll begin from the +beginning. You married a man twenty years older than yourself. +You married him without love and not knowing what love was. It +was a mistake, let's admit." + +"A fearful mistake!" said Anna. + +"But I repeat, it's an accomplished fact. Then you had, let us +say, the misfortune to love a man not your husband. That was a +misfortune; but that, too, is an accomplished fact. And your +husband knew it and forgave it." He stopped at each sentence, +waiting for her to object, but she made no answer. "That's so. +Now the question is: can you go on living with your husband? Do +you wish it? Does he wish it?" + +"I know nothing, nothing." + +"But you said yourself that you can't endure him." + +"No, I didn't say so. I deny it. I can't tell, I don't know +anything about it." + +"Yes, but let..." + +"You can't understand. I feel I'm lying head downwards in a sort +of pit, but I ought not to save myself. And I can't . . ." + +"Never mind, we'll slip something under and pull you out. I +understand you: I understand that you can't take it on yourself +to express your wishes, your feelings." + +"There's nothing, nothing I wish...except for it to be all +over." + +"But he sees this and knows it. And do you suppose it weighs on +him any less than on you? You're wretched, he's wretched, and +what good can come of it? while divorce would solve the +difficulty completely." With some effort Stepan Arkadyevitch +brought out his central idea, and looked significantly at her. + +She said nothing, and shook her cropped head in dissent. But +from the look in her face, that suddenly brightened into its old +beauty, he saw that if she did not desire this, it was simply +because it seemed to her unattainable happiness. + +"I'm awfully sorry for you! And how happy I should be if I could +arrange things!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, smiling more boldly. +"Don't speak, don't say a word! God grant only that I may speak +as I feel. I'm going to him." + +Anna looked at him with dreamy, shining eyes, and said nothing. + + + +Chapter 22 + + +Stepan Arkadyevitch, with the same somewhat solemn expression +with which he used to take his presidential chair at his board, +walked into Alexey Alexandrovitch's room. Alexey Alexandrovitch +was walking about his room with his hands behind his back, +thinking of just what Stepan Arkadyevitch had been discussing +with his wife. + +"I'm not interrupting you?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, on the +sight of his brother-in-law becoming suddenly aware of a sense of +embarrassment unusual with him. To conceal this embarrassment he +took out a cigarette case he had just bought that opened in a new +way, and sniffing the leather, took a cigarette out of it. + +"No. Do you want anything?" Alexey Alexandrovitch asked without +eagerness. + +"Yes, I wished...I wanted...yes, I wanted to talk to you," said +Stepan Arkadyevitch, with surprise aware of an unaccustomed +timidity. + +This feeling was so unexpected and so strange that he did not +believe it was the voice of conscience telling him that what he +was meaning to do was wrong. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch made an effort and struggled with the +timidity that had come over him. + +"I hope you believe in my love for my sister and my sincere +affection and respect for you," he said, reddening. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch stood still and said nothing, but his face +struck Stepan Arkadyevitch by its expression of an unresisting +sacrifice. + +"I intended...I wanted to have a little talk with you about my +sister and your mutual position," he said, still struggling with +an unaccustomed constraint. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled mournfully, looked at his +brother-in-law, and without answering went up to the table, took +from it an unfinished letter, and handed it to his +brother-in-law. + +"I think unceasingly of the same thing. And here is what I had +begun writing, thinking I could say it better by letter, and +that my presence irritates her," he said, as he gave him the +letter. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch took the letter, looked with incredulous +surprise at the lusterless eyes fixed so immovably on him, and +began to read. + +"I see that my presence is irksome to you. Painful as it is to +me to believe it, I see that it is so, and cannot be otherwise. +I don't blame you, and God is my witness that on seeing you at +the time of your illness I resolved with my whole heart to forget +all that had passed between us and to begin a new life. I do not +regret, and shall never regret, what I have done; but I have +desired one thing--your good, the good of your soul--and now I +see I have not attained that. Tell me yourself what will give +you true happiness and peace to your soul. I put myself entirely +in your hands, and trust to your feeling of what's right." + +Stepan Arkadyevitch handed back the letter, and with the same +surprise continued looking at his brother-in-law, not knowing +what to say. This silence was so awkward for both of them that +Stepan Arkadyevitch's lips began twitching nervously, while he +still gazed without speaking at Karenin's face. + +"That's what I wanted to say to her," said Alexey Alexandrovitch, +turning away. + +"Yes, yes..." said Stepan Arkadyevitch, not able to answer for +the tears that were choking him. + +"Yes, yes, I understand you," he brought out at last. + +"I want to know what she would like," said Alexey Alexandrovitch. + +"I am afraid she does not understand her own position. She is +not a judge," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, recovering himself. "She +is crushed, simply crushed by your generosity. If she were to +read this letter, she would be incapable of saying anything, she +would only hang her head lower than ever." + +"Yes, but what's to be done in that case? how explain, how find +out her wishes?" + +"If you will allow me to give my opinion, I think that it lies +with you to point out directly the steps you consider necessary +to end the position." + +"So you consider it must be ended?" Alexey Alexandrovitch +interrupted him. "But how?" he added, with a gesture of his +hands before his eyes not usual with him. "I see no possible way +out of it." + +"There is some way of getting out of every position," said Stepan +Arkadyevitch, standing up and becoming more cheerful. "There was +a time when you thought of breaking off.... If you are convinced +now that you cannot make each other happy..." + +"Happiness may be variously understood. But suppose that I agree +to everything, that I want nothing: what way is there of getting +out of our position?" + +"If you care to know my opinion," said Stepan Arkadyevitch with +the same smile of softening, almond-oil tenderness with which he +had been talking to Anna. His kindly smile was so winning that +Alexey Alexandrovitch, feeling his own weakness and unconsciously +swayed by it, was ready to believe what Stepan Arkadyevitch was +saying. + +"She will never speak out about it. But one thing is possible, +one thing she might desire," he went on, "that is the cessation +of your relations and all memories associated with them. To my +thinking, in your position what's essential is the formation of a +new attitude to one another. And that can only rest on a basis +of freedom on both sides." + +"Divorce," Alexey Alexandrovitch interrupted, in a tone of +aversion. + +"Yes, I imagine that divorce--yes, divorce," Stepan Arkadyevitch +repeated, reddening. "That is from every point of view the most +rational course for married people who find themselves in the +position you are in. What can be done if married people find +that life is impossible for them together? That may always +happen." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch sighed heavily and closed his eyes. + +"There's only one point to be considered: is either of the +parties desirous of forming new ties? If not, it is very +simple," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, feeling more and more free +from constraint. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch, scowling with emotion, muttered something +to himself, and made no answer. All that seemed so simple to +Stepan Arkadyevitch, Alexey Alexandrovitch had thought over +thousands of times. And, so far from being simple, it all seemed +to him utterly impossible. Divorce, the details of which he knew +by this time, seemed to him now out of the question, because the +sense of his own dignity and respect for religion forbade his +taking upon himself a fictitious charge of adultery, and still +more suffering his wife, pardoned and beloved by him, to be +caught in the fact and put to public shame. Divorce appeared to +him impossible also on other still more weighty grounds. + +What would become of his son in case of a divorce? To leave him +with his mother was out of the question. The divorced mother +would have her own illegitimate family, in which his position as +a stepson and his education would not be good. Keep him with +him? He knew that would be an act of vengeance on his part, and +that he did not want. But apart from this, what more than all +made divorce seem impossible to Alexey Alexandrovitch was, that +by consenting to a divorce he would be completely ruining Anna. +The saying of Darya Alexandrovna at Moscow, that in deciding on a +divorce he was thinking of himself, and not considering that by +this he would be ruining her irrevocably, had sunk into his +heart. And connecting this saying with his forgiveness of her, +with his devotion to the children, he understood it now in his +own way. To consent to a divorce, to give her her freedom, meant +in his thoughts to take from himself the last tie that bound him +to life--the children whom he loved; and to take from her the +last prop that stayed her on the path of right, to thrust her +down to her ruin. If she were divorced, he knew she would join +her life to Vronsky's, and their tie would be an illegitimate and +criminal one, since a wife, by the interpretation of the +ecclesiastical law, could not marry while her husband was living. +"She will join him, and in a year or two he will throw her over, +or she will form a new tie," thought Alexey Alexandrovitch. "And +I, by agreeing to an unlawful divorce, shall be to blame for her +ruin." He had thought it all over hundreds of times, and was +convinced that a divorce was not at all simple, as Stepan +Arkadyevitch had said, but was utterly impossible. He did not +believe a single word Stepan Arkadyevitch said to him; to every +word he had a thousand objections to make, but he listened to +him, feeling that his words were the expression of that mighty +brutal force which controlled his life and to which he would have +to submit. + +"The only question is on what terms you agree to give her a +divorce. She does not want anything, does not dare ask you for +anything, she leaves it all to your generosity." + +"My God, my God! what for?" thought Alexey Alexandrovitch, +remembering the details of divorce proceedings in which the +husband took the blame on himself, and with just the same gesture +with which Vronsky had done the same, he hid his face for shame +in his hands. + +"You are distressed, I understand that. But if you think it +over..." + +"Whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the +other also; and if any man take away thy coat, let him have thy +cloak also," thought Alexey Alexandrovitch. + +"Yes, yes!" he cried in a shrill voice. "I will take the +disgrace on myself, I will give up even my son, but...but +wouldn't it be better to let it alone? Still you may do as you +like..." + +And turning away so that his brother-in-law could not see him, he +sat down on a chair at the window. There was bitterness, there +was shame in his heart, but with bitterness and shame he felt joy +and emotion at the height of his own meekness. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch was touched. He was silent for a space. + +"Alexey Alexandrovitch, believe me, she appreciates your +generosity," he said. "But it seems it was the will of God," he +added, and as he said it felt how foolish a remark it was, and +with difficulty repressed a smile at his own foolishness. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch would have made some reply, but tears +stopped him. + +"This is an unhappy fatality, and one must accept it as such. I +accept the calamity as an accomplished fact, and am doing my best +to help both her and you," said Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +When he went out of his brother-in-law's room he was touched, but +that did not prevent him from being glad he had successfully +brought the matter to a conclusion, for he felt certain Alexey +Alexandrovitch would not go back on his words. To this +satisfaction was added the fact that an idea had just struck him +for a riddle turning on his successful achievement, that when the +affair was over he would ask his wife and most intimate friends. +He put this riddle into two or three different ways. "But I'll +work it out better than that," he said to himself with a smile. + + + +Chapter 23 + + +Vronsky's wound had been a dangerous one, though it did not +touch the heart, and for several days he had lain between life +and death. The first time he was able to speak, Varya, his +brother's wife, was alone in the room. + +"Varya," he said, looking sternly at her, "I shot myself by +accident. And please never speak of it, and tell everyone so. +Or else it's too ridiculous." + +Without answering his words, Varya bent over him, and with a +delighted smile gazed into his face. His eyes were clear, not +feverish; but their expression was stern. + +"Thank God!" she said. "You're not in pain?" + +"A little here." He pointed to his breast. + +"Then let me change your bandages." + +In silence, stiffening his broad jaws, he looked at her while she +bandaged him up. When she had finished he said: + +"I'm not delirious. Please manage that there may be no talk of +my having shot myself on purpose." + +"No one does say so. Only I hope you won't shoot yourself by +accident any more," she said, with a questioning smile. + +"Of course I won't, but it would have been better..." + +And he smiled gloomily. + +In spite of these words and this smile, which so frightened +Varya, when the inflammation was over and he began to recover, he +felt that he was completely free from one part of his misery. By +his action he had, as it were, washed away the shame and +humiliation he had felt before. He could now think calmly of +Alexey Alexandrovitch. He recognized all his magnanimity, but he +did not now feel himself humiliated by it. Besides, he got back +again into the beaten track of his life. He saw the possibility +of looking men in the face again without shame, and he could live +in accordance with his own habits. One thing he could not pluck +out of his heart, though he never ceased struggling with it, was +the regret, amounting to despair, that he had lost her forever. +That now, having expiated his sin against the husband, he was +bound to renounce her, and never in future to stand between her +with her repentance and her husband, he had firmly decided in his +heart; but he could not tear out of his heart his regret at the +loss of her love, he could not erase from his memory those +moments of happiness that he had so little prized at the time, +and that haunted him in all their charm. + +Serpuhovskoy had planned his appointment at Tashkend, and Vronsky +agreed to the proposition without the slightest hesitation. But +the nearer the time of departure came, the bitterer was the +sacrifice he was making to what he thought his duty. + +His wound had healed, and he was driving about making +preparations for his departure for Tashkend. + +"To see her once and then to bury myself, to die," he thought, +and as he was paying farewell visits, he uttered this thought to +Betsy. Charged with this commission, Betsy had gone to Anna, and +brought him back a negative reply. + +"So much the better," thought Vronsky, when he received the news. +"It was a weakness, which would have shattered what strength I +have left." + +Next day Betsy herself came to him in the morning, and announced +that she had heard through Oblonsky as a positive fact that +Alexey Alexandrovitch had agreed to a divorce, and that therefore +Vronsky could see Anna. + +Without even troubling himself to see Betsy out of his flat, +forgetting all his resolutions, without asking when he could see +her, where her husband was, Vronsky drove straight to the +Karenins'. He ran up the stairs seeing no one and nothing, and +with a rapid step, almost breaking into a run, he went into her +room. And without considering, without noticing whether there +was anyone in the room or not, he flung his arms round her, and +began to cover her face, her hands, her neck with kisses. + +Anna had been preparing herself for this meeting, had thought +what she would say to him, but she did not succeed in saying +anything of it; his passion mastered her. She tried to calm him, +to calm herself, but it was too late. His feeling infected her. +Her lips trembled so that for a long while she could say nothing. + +"Yes, you have conquered me, and I am yours," she said at last, +pressing his hands to her bosom. + +"So it had to be," he said. "So long as we live, it must be so. +I know it now." + +"That's true," she said, getting whiter and whiter, and embracing +his head. "Still there is something terrible in it after all +that has happened." + +"It will all pass, it will all pass; we shall be so happy. Our +love, if it could be stronger, will be strengthened by there +being something terrible in it," he said, lifting his head and +parting his strong teeth in a smile. + +And she could not but respond with a smile--not to his words, but +to the love in his eyes. She took his hand and stroked her +chilled cheeks and cropped head with it. + +"I don't know you with this short hair. You've grown so pretty. +A boy. But how pale you are!" + +"Yes, I'm very weak," she said, smiling. And her lips began +trembling again. + +"We'll go to Italy; you will get strong," he said. + +"Can it be possible we could be like husband and wife, alone, +your family with you?" she said, looking close into his eyes. + +"It only seems strange to me that it can ever have been +otherwise." + +"Stiva says that _he_ has agreed to everything, but I can't accept +_his_ generosity," she said, looking dreamily past Vronsky's face. +"I don't want a divorce; it's all the same to me now. Only I +don't know what he will decide about Seryozha." + +He could not conceive how at this moment of their meeting she +could remember and think of her son, of divorce. What did it all +matter? + +"Don't speak of that, don't think of it," he said, turning her +hand in his, and trying to draw her attention to him; but still +she did not look at him. + +"Oh, why didn't I die! it would have been better," she said, and +silent tears flowed down both her cheeks; but she tried to smile, +so as not to wound him. + +To decline the flattering and dangerous appointment at Tashkend +would have been, Vronsky had till then considered, disgraceful +and impossible. But now, without an instant's consideration, he +declined it, and observing dissatisfaction in the most exalted +quarters at this step, he immediately retired from the army. + +A month later Alexey Alexandrovitch was left alone with his son +in his house at Petersburg, while Anna and Vronsky had gone +abroad, not having obtained a divorce, but having absolutely +declined all idea of one. + + + + +PART 5 + + + +Chapter 1 + + +Princess Shtcherbatskaya considered that it was out of the +question for the wedding to take place before Lent, just five +weeks off, since not half the trousseau could possibly be ready +by that time. But she could not but agree with Levin that to fix +it for after Lent would be putting it off too late, as an old +aunt of Prince Shtcherbatsky's was seriously ill and might die, +and then the mourning would delay the wedding still longer. And +therefore, deciding to divide the trousseau into two parts--a +larger and smaller trousseau--the princess consented to have the +wedding before Lent. She determined that she would get the +smaller part of the trousseau all ready now, and the larger part +should be made later, and she was much vexed with Levin because +he was incapable of giving her a serious answer to the question +whether he agreed to this arrangement or not. The arrangement +was the more suitable as, immediately after the wedding, the +young people were to go to the country, where the more important +part of the trousseau would not be wanted. + +Levin still continued in the same delirious condition in which it +seemed to him that he and his happiness constituted the chief and +sole aim of all existence, and that he need not now think or care +about anything, that everything was being done and would be done +for him by others. He had not even plans and aims for the +future, he left its arrangement to others, knowing that +everything would be delightful. His brother Sergey Ivanovitch, +Stepan Arkadyevitch, and the princess guided him in doing what he +had to do. All he did was to agree entirely with everything +suggested to him. His brother raised money for him, the princess +advised him to leave Moscow after the wedding. Stepan +Arkadyevitch advised him to go abroad. He agreed to everything. +"Do what you choose, if it amuses you. I'm happy, and my +happiness can be no greater and no less for anything you do," he +thought. When he told Kitty of Stepan Arkadyevitch's advice that +they should go abroad, he was much surprised that she did not +agree to this, and had some definite requirements of her own in +regard to their future. She knew Levin had work he loved in the +country. She did not, as he saw, understand this work, she did +not even care to understand it. But that did not prevent her +from regarding it as a matter of great importance. And then she +knew their home would be in the country, and she wanted to go, +not abroad where she was not going to live, but to the place +where their home would be. This definitely expressed purpose +astonished Levin. But since he did not care either way, he +immediately asked Stepan Arkadyevitch, as though it were his +duty, to go down to the country and to arrange everything there +to the best of his ability with the taste of which he had so +much. + +"But I say," Stepan Arkadyevitch said to him one day after he had +come back from the country, where he had got everything ready for +the young people's arrival, "have you a certificate of having +been at confession?" + +"No. But what of it?" + +"You can't be married without it." + +"_Aie, aie, aie!_" cried Levin. "Why, I believe it's nine years +since I've taken the sacrament! I never thought of it." + +"You're a pretty fellow!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch laughing, "and +you call me a Nihilist! But this won't do, you know. You must +take the sacrament." + +"When? There are four days left now." + +Stepan Arkadyevitch arranged this also, and Levin had to go to +confession. To Levin, as to any unbeliever who respects the +beliefs of others, it was exceedingly disagreeable to be present +at and take part in church ceremonies. At this moment, in his +present softened state of feeling, sensitive to everything, this +inevitable act of hypocrisy was not merely painful to Levin, it +seemed to him utterly impossible. Now, in the heyday of his +highest glory, his fullest flower, he would have to be a liar or +a scoffer. He felt incapable of being either. But though he +repeatedly plied Stepan Arkadyevitch with questions as to the +possibility of obtaining a certificate without actually +communicating, Stepan Arkadyevitch maintained that it was out of +the question. + +"Besides, what is it to you--two days? And he's an awfully nice +clever old fellow. He'll pull the tooth out for you so gently, +you won't notice it." + +Standing at the first litany, Levin attempted to revive in +himself his youthful recollections of the intense religious +emotion he had passed through between the ages of sixteen and +seventeen. + +But he was at once convinced that it was utterly impossible to +him. He attempted to look at it all as an empty custom, having +no sort of meaning, like the custom of paying calls. But he felt +that he could not do that either. Levin found himself, like the +majority of his contemporaries, in the vaguest position in regard +to religion. Believe he could not, and at the same time he had +no firm conviction that it was all wrong. And consequently, not +being able to believe in the significance of what he was doing +nor to regard it with indifference as an empty formality, during +the whole period of preparing for the sacrament he was conscious +of a feeling of discomfort and shame at doing what he did not +himself understand, and what, as an inner voice told him, was +therefore false and wrong. + +During the service he would first listen to the prayers, trying +to attach some meaning to them not discordant with his own views; +then feeling that he could not understand and must condemn them, +he tried not to listen to them, but to attend to the thoughts, +observations, and memories which floated through his brain with +extreme vividness during this idle time of standing in church. + +He had stood through the litany, the evening service and the +midnight service, and the next day he got up earlier than usual, +and without having tea went at eight o'clock in the morning to +the church for the morning service and the confession. + +There was no one in the church but a beggar soldier, two old +women, and the church officials. A young deacon, whose long back +showed in two distinct halves through his thin undercassock, met +him, and at once going to a little table at the wall read the +exhortation. During the reading, especially at the frequent and +rapid repetition of the same words, "Lord, have mercy on us!" +which resounded with an echo, Levin felt that thought was shut +and sealed up, and that it must not be touched or stirred now or +confusion would be the result; and so standing behind the deacon +he went on thinking of his own affairs, neither listening nor +examining what was said. "It's wonderful what expression there +is in her hand," he thought, remembering how they had been +sitting the day before at a corner table. They had nothing to +talk about, as was almost always the case at this time, and +laying her hand on the table she kept opening and shutting it, +and laughed herself as she watched her action. He remembered how +he had kissed it and then had examined the lines on the pink +palm. "Have mercy on us again!" thought Levin, crossing himself, +bowing, and looking at the supple spring of the deacon's back +bowing before him. "She took my hand then and examined the lines +'You've got a splendid hand,' she said." And he looked at his own +hand and the short hand of the deacon. "Yes, now it will soon be +over," he thought. "No, it seems to be beginning again," he +thought, listening to the prayers. "No, it's just ending: there +he is bowing down to the ground. That's always at the end." + +The deacon's hand in a plush cuff accepted a three-rouble note +unobtrusively, and the deacon said he would put it down in the +register, and his new boots creaking jauntily over the flagstones +of the empty church, he went to the altar. A moment later he +peeped out thence and beckoned to Levin. Thought, till then +locked up, began to stir in Levin's head, but he made haste to +drive it away. "It will come right somehow," he thought, and +went towards the altar-rails. He went up the steps, and turning +to the right saw the priest. The priest, a little old man with a +scanty grizzled beard and weary, good-natured eyes, was standing +at the altar-rails, turning over the pages of a missal. With a +slight bow to Levin he began immediately reading prayers in the +official voice. When he had finished them he bowed down to the +ground and turned, facing Levin. + +"Christ is present here unseen, receiving your confession," he +said, pointing to the crucifix. "Do you believe in all the +doctrines of the Holy Apostolic Church?" the priest went on, +turning his eyes away from Levin's face and folding his hands +under his stole. + +"I have doubted, I doubt everything," said Levin in a voice that +jarred on himself, and he ceased speaking. + +The priest waited a few seconds to see if he would not say more, +and closing his eyes he said quickly, with a broad, Vladimirsky +accent: + +"Doubt is natural to the weakness of mankind, but we must pray +that God in His mercy will strengthen us. What are your special +sins?" he added, without the slightest interval, as though +anxious not to waste time. + +"My chief sin is doubt. I have doubts of everything, and for the +most part I am in doubt." + +"Doubt is natural to the weakness of mankind," the priest +repeated the same words. "What do you doubt about principally?" + +"I doubt of everything. I sometimes even have doubts of the +existence of God," Levin could not help saying, and he was +horrified at the impropriety of what he was saying. But Levin's +words did not, it seemed, make much impression on the priest. + +"What sort of doubt can there be of the existence of God?" he +said hurriedly, with a just perceptible smile. + +Levin did not speak. + +"What doubt can you have of the Creator when you behold His +creation?" the priest went on in the rapid customary jargon. +"Who has decked the heavenly firmament with its lights? Who has +clothed the earth in its beauty? How explain it without the +Creator?" he said, looking inquiringly at Levin. + +Levin felt that it would be improper to enter upon a metaphysical +discussion with the priest, and so he said in reply merely what +was a direct answer to the question. + +"I don't know," he said. + +"You don't know! Then how can you doubt that God created all?" +the priest said, with good-humored perplexity. + +"I don't understand it at all," said Levin, blushing, and feeling +that his words were stupid, and that they could not be anything +but stupid in such a position. + +"Pray to God and beseech Him. Even the holy fathers had doubts, +and prayed to God to strengthen their faith. The devil has great +power, and we must resist him. Pray to God, beseech Him. Pray +to God," he repeated hurriedly. + +The priest paused for some time, as though meditating. + +"You're about, I hear, to marry the daughter of my parishioner +and son in the spirit, Prince Shtcherbatsky?" he resumed, with a +smile. "An excellent young lady." + +"Yes," answered Levin, blushing for the priest. "What does he +want to ask me about this at confession for?" he thought. + +And, as though answering his thought, the priest said to him: + +"You are about to enter into holy matrimony, and God may bless +you with offspring. Well, what sort of bringing-up can you give +your babes if you do not overcome the temptation of the devil, +enticing you to infidelity?" he said, with gentle +reproachfulness. "If you love your child as a good father, you +will not desire only wealth, luxury, honor for your infant; you +will be anxious for his salvation, his spiritual enlightenment +with the light of truth. Eh? What answer will you make him when +the innocent babe asks you: 'Papa! who made all that enchants me +in this world--the earth, the waters, the sun, the flowers, the +grass?' Can you say to him: 'I don't know'? You cannot but know, +since the Lord God in His infinite mercy has revealed it to us. +Or your child will ask you: 'What awaits me in the life beyond +the tomb?' What will you say to him when you know nothing? How +will you answer him? Will you leave him to the allurements of +the world and the devil? That's not right," he said, and he +stopped, putting his head on one side and looking at Levin with +his kindly, gentle eyes. + +Levin made no answer this time, not because he did not want to +enter upon a discussion with the priest, but because, so far, no +one had ever asked him such questions, and when his babes did ask +him those questions, it would be time enough to think about +answering them. + +"You are entering upon a time of life," pursued the priest, "when +you must choose your path and keep to it. Pray to God that He +may in His mercy aid you and have mercy on you!" he concluded. +"Our Lord and God, Jesus Christ, in the abundance and riches of +His lovingkindness, forgives this child..." and, finishing the +prayer of absolution, the priest blessed him and dismissed him. + +On getting home that day, Levin had a delightful sense of relief +at the awkward position being over and having been got through +without his having to tell a lie. Apart from this, there +remained a vague memory that what the kind, nice old fellow had +said had not been at all so stupid as he had fancied at first, +and that there was something in it that must be cleared up. + +"Of course, not now," thought Levin, "but some day later on." +Levin felt more than ever now that there was something not clear +and not clean in his soul, and that, in regard to religion, he +was in the same position which he perceived so clearly and +disliked in others, and for which he blamed his friend Sviazhsky. + +Levin spent that evening with his betrothed at Dolly's, and was +in very high spirits. To explain to Stepan Arkadyevitch the +state of excitement in which he found himself, he said that he +was happy like a dog being trained to jump through a hoop, who, +having at last caught the idea, and done what was required of +him, whines and wags its tail, and jumps up to the table and the +windows in its delight. + + + +Chapter 2 + + +On the day of the wedding, according to the Russian custom (the +princess and Darya Alexandrovna insisted on strictly keeping all +the customs), Levin did not see his betrothed, and dined at his +hotel with three bachelor friends, casually brought together at +his rooms. These were Sergey Ivanovitch, Katavasov, a university +friend, now professor of natural science, whom Levin had met in +the street and insisted on taking home with him, and Tchirikov, +his best man, a Moscow conciliation-board judge, Levin's +companion in his bear-hunts. The dinner was a very merry one: +Sergey Ivanovitch was in his happiest mood, and was much amused +by Katavasov's originality. Katavasov, feeling his originality +was appreciated and understood, made the most of it. Tchirikov +always gave a lively and good-humored support to conversation of +any sort. + +"See, now," said Katavasov, drawling his words from a habit +acquired in the lecture-room, "what a capable fellow was our +friend Konstantin Dmitrievitch. I'm not speaking of present +company, for he's absent. At the time he left the university he +was fond of science, took an interest in humanity; now one-half +of his abilities is devoted to deceiving himself, and the other +to justifying the deceit." + +"A more determined enemy of matrimony than you I never saw," said +Sergey Ivanovitch. + +"Oh, no, I'm not an enemy of matrimony. I'm in favor of division +of labor. People who can do nothing else ought to rear people +while the rest work for their happiness and enlightenment. +That's how I look at it. To muddle up two trades is the error of +the amateur; I'm not one of their number." + +"How happy I shall be when I hear that you're in love!" said +Levin. "Please invite me to the wedding." + +"I'm in love now." + +"Yes, with a cuttlefish! You know," Levin turned to his brother, +"Mihail Semyonovitch is writing a work on the digestive organs of +the..." + +"Now, make a muddle of it! It doesn't matter what about. And +the fact is, I certainly do love cuttlefish." + +"But that's no hindrance to your loving your wife." + +"The cuttlefish is no hindrance. The wife is the hindrance." + +"Why so?" + +"Oh, you'll see! You care about farming, hunting,--well, you'd +better look out!" + +"Arhip was here today; he said there were a lot of elks in +Prudno, and two bears," said Tchirikov. + +"Well, you must go and get them without me." + +"Ah, that's the truth," said Sergey Ivanovitch. "And you may say +good-bye to bear-hunting for the future--your wife won't allow +it!" + +Levin smiled. The picture of his wife not letting him go was so +pleasant that he was ready to renounce the delights of looking +upon bears forever. + +"Still, it's a pity they should get those two bears without you. +Do you remember last time at Hapilovo? That was a delightful +hunt!" said Tchirikov. + +Levin had not the heart to disillusion him of the notion that +there could be something delightful apart from her, and so said +nothing. + +"There's some sense in this custom of saying good-bye to bachelor +life," said Sergey Ivanovitch. "However happy you may be, you +must regret your freedom." + +"And confess there is a feeling that you want to jump out of the +window, like Gogol's bridegroom?" + +"Of course there is, but it isn't confessed," said Katavasov, and +he broke into loud laughter. + +"Oh, well, the window's open. Let's start off this instant to +Tver! There's a big she-bear; one can go right up to the lair. +Seriously, let's go by the five o'clock! And here let them do +what they like," said Tchirikov, smiling. + +"Well, now, on my honor," said Levin, smiling, "I can't find in +my heart that feeling of regret for my freedom." + +"Yes, there's such a chaos in your heart just now that you can't +find anything there," said Katavasov. "Wait a bit, when you set +it to rights a little, you'll find it!" + +"No; if so, I should have felt a little, apart from my feeling" +(he could not say love before them) "and happiness, a certain +regret at losing my freedom.... On the contrary, I am glad at +the very loss of my freedom." + +"Awful! It's a hopeless case!" said Katavasov. "Well, let's +drink to his recovery, or wish that a hundredth part of his +dreams may be realized--and that would be happiness such as never +has been seen on earth!" + +Soon after dinner the guests went away to be in time to be +dressed for the wedding. + +When he was left alone, and recalled the conversation of these +bachelor friends, Levin asked himself: had he in his heart that +regret for his freedom of which they had spoken? He smiled at +the question. "Freedom! What is freedom for? Happiness is only +in loving and wishing her wishes, thinking her thoughts, that is +to say, not freedom at all--that's happiness!" + +"But do I know her ideas, her wishes, her feelings?" some voice +suddenly whispered to him. The smile died away from his face, +and he grew thoughtful. And suddenly a strange feeling came upon +him. There came over him a dread and doubt--doubt of everything. + +"What if she does not love me? What if she's marrying me simply +to be married? What if she doesn't see herself what she's +doing?" he asked himself. "She may come to her senses, and only +when she is being married realize that she does not and cannot +love me." And strange, most evil thoughts of her began to come +to him. He was jealous of Vronsky, as he had been a year ago, as +though the evening he had seen her with Vronsky had been +yesterday. He suspected she had not told him everything. + +He jumped up quickly. "No, this can't go on!" he said to himself +in despair. "I'll go to her; I'll ask her; I'll say for the last +time: we are free, and hadn't we better stay so? Anything's +better than endless misery, disgrace, unfaithfulness!" With +despair in his heart and bitter anger against all men, against +himself, against her, he went out of the hotel and drove to her +house. + +He found her in one of the back rooms. She was sitting on a +chest and making some arrangements with her maid, sorting over +heaps of dresses of different colors, spread on the backs of +chairs and on the floor. + +"Ah!" she cried, seeing him, and beaming with delight. "Kostya! +Konstantin Dmitrievitch!" (These latter days she used these names +almost alternately.) "I didn't expect you! I'm going through my +wardrobe to see what's for whom..." + +"Oh! that's very nice!" he said gloomily, looking at the maid. + +"You can go, Dunyasha, I'll call you presently," said Kitty. +"Kostya, what's the matter?" she asked, definitely adopting this +familiar name as soon as the maid had gone out. She noticed his +strange face, agitated and gloomy, and a panic came over her. + +"Kitty! I'm in torture. I can't suffer alone," he said with +despair in his voice, standing before her and looking imploringly +into her eyes. He saw already from her loving, truthful face, +that nothing could come of what he had meant to say, but yet he +wanted her to reassure him herself. "I've come to say that +there's still time. This can all be stopped and set right." + +"What? I don't understand. What is the matter?" + +"What I have said a thousand times over, and can't help thinking +...that I'm not worthy of you. You couldn't consent to marry +me. Think a little. You've made a mistake. Think it over +thoroughly. You can't love me.... If...better say so," he said, +not looking at her. "I shall be wretched. Let people say what +they like; anything's better than misery.... Far better now +while there's still time...." + +"I don't understand," she answered, panic-stricken; "you mean you +want to give it up...don't want it?" + +"Yes, if you don't love me." + +"You're out of your mind!" she cried, turning crimson with +vexation. But his face was so piteous, that she restrained her +vexation, and flinging some clothes off an arm-chair, she sat +down beside him. "What are you thinking? tell me all." + +"I am thinking you can't love me. What can you love me for?" + +"My God! what can I do?..." she said, and burst into tears. + +"Oh! what have I done?" he cried, and kneeling before her, he +fell to kissing her hands. + +When the princess came into the room five minutes later, she +found them completely reconciled. Kitty had not simply assured +him that she loved him, but had gone so far--in answer to his +question, what she loved him for--as to explain what for. She +told him that she loved him because she understood him +completely, because she knew what he would like, and because +everything he liked was good. And this seemed to him perfectly +clear. When the princess came to them, they were sitting side by +side on the chest, sorting the dresses and disputing over Kitty's +wanting to give Dunyasha the brown dress she had been wearing +when Levin proposed to her, while he insisted that that dress +must never be given away, but Dunyasha must have the blue one. + +"How is it you don't see? She's a brunette, and it won't suit +her.... I've worked it all out." + +Hearing why he had come, the princess was half humorously, half +seriously angry with him, and sent him home to dress and not to +hinder Kitty's hair-dressing, as Charles the hair-dresser was +just coming. + +"As it is, she's been eating nothing lately and is losing her +looks, and then you must come and upset her with your nonsense," +she said to him. "Get along with you, my dear!" + +Levin, guilty and shamefaced, but pacified, went back to his +hotel. His brother, Darya Alexandrovna, and Stepan Arkadyevitch, +all in full dress, were waiting for him to bless him with the +holy picture. There was no time to lose. Darya Alexandrovna had +to drive home again to fetch her curled and pomaded son, who was +to carry the holy pictures after the bride. Then a carriage had +to be sent for the best man, and another that would take Sergey +Ivanovitch away would have to be sent back.... Altogether +there were a great many most complicated matters to be considered +and arranged. One thing was unmistakable, that there must be no +delay, as it was already half-past six. + +Nothing special happened at the ceremony of benediction with the +holy picture. Stepan Arkadyevitch stood in a comically solemn +pose beside his wife, took the holy picture, and telling Levin +to bow down to the ground, he blessed him with his kindly, +ironical smile, and kissed him three times; Darya Alexandrovna +did the same, and immediately was in a hurry to get off, and +again plunged into the intricate question of the destinations of +the various carriages. + +"Come, I'll tell you how we'll manage: you drive in our carriage +to fetch him, and Sergey Ivanovitch, if he'll be so good, will +drive there and then send his carriage." + +"Of course; I shall be delighted." + +"We'll come on directly with him. Are your things sent off?" +said Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +"Yes," answered Levin, and he told Kouzma to put out his clothes +for him to dress. + + + +Chapter 3 + + +A crowd of people, principally women, was thronging round the +church lighted up for the wedding. Those who had not succeeded +in getting into the main entrance were crowding about the +windows, pushing, wrangling, and peeping through the gratings. + +More than twenty carriages had already been drawn up in ranks +along the street by the police. A police officer, regardless of +the frost, stood at the entrance, gorgeous in his uniform. More +carriages were continually driving up, and ladies wearing flowers +and carrying their trains, and men taking off their helmets or +black hats kept walking into the church. Inside the church both +lusters were already lighted, and all the candles before the holy +pictures. The gilt on the red ground of the holy picture-stand, +and the gilt relief on the pictures, and the silver of the +lusters and candlesticks, and the stones of the floor, and the +rugs, and the banners above in the choir, and the steps of the +altar, and the old blackened books, and the cassocks and +surplices--all were flooded with light. On the right side of the +warm church, in the crowd of frock coats and white ties, uniforms +and broadcloth, velvet, satin, hair and flowers, bare shoulders +and arms and long gloves, there was discreet but lively +conversation that echoed strangely in the high cupola. Every +time there was heard the creak of the opened door the +conversation in the crowd died away, and everybody looked round +expecting to see the bride and bridegroom come in. But the door +had opened more than ten times, and each time it was either a +belated guest or guests, who joined the circle of the invited on +the right, or a spectator, who had eluded or softened the police +officer, and went to join the crowd of outsiders on the left. +Both the guests and the outside public had by now passed through +all the phases of anticipation. + +At first they imagined that the bride and bridegroom would arrive +immediately, and attached no importance at all to their being +late. Then they began to look more and more often towards the +door, and to talk of whether anything could have happened. Then +the long delay began to be positively discomforting, and +relations and guests tried to look as if they were not thinking +of the bridegroom but were engrossed in conversation. + +The head deacon, as though to remind them of the value of his +time, coughed impatiently, making the window-panes quiver in +their frames. In the choir the bored choristers could be heard +trying their voices and blowing their noses. The priest was +continually sending first the beadle and then the deacon to find +out whether the bridegroom had not come, more and more often he +went himself, in a lilac vestment and an embroidered sash, to the +side door, expecting to see the bridegroom. At last one of the +ladies, glancing at her watch, said, "It really is strange, +though!" and all the guests became uneasy and began loudly +expressing their wonder and dissatisfaction. One of the +bridegroom's best men went to find out what had happened. Kitty +meanwhile had long ago been quite ready, and in her white dress +and long veil and wreath of orange blossoms she was standing in +the drawing-room of the Shtcherbatskys' house with her sister, +Madame Lvova, who was her bridal-mother. She was looking out of +the window, and had been for over half an hour anxiously +expecting to hear from the best man that her bridegroom was at +the church. + +Levin meanwhile, in his trousers, but without his coat and +waistcoat, was walking to and fro in his room at the hotel, +continually putting his head out of the door and looking up and +down the corridor. But in the corridor there was no sign of the +person he was looking for and he came back in despair, and +frantically waving his hands addressed Stepan Arkadyevitch, who +was smoking serenely. + +"Was ever a man in such a fearful fool's position?" he said. + +"Yes, it is stupid," Stepan Arkadyevitch assented, smiling +soothingly. "But don't worry, it'll be brought directly." + +"No, what is to be done!" said Levin, with smothered fury. "And +these fools of open waistcoats! Out of the question!" he said, +looking at the crumpled front of his shirt. "And what if the +things have been taken on to the railway station!" he roared in +desperation. + +"Then you must put on mine." + +"I ought to have done so long ago, if at all." + +"It's not nice to look ridiculous.... Wait a bit! it will +_come round_." + +The point was that when Levin asked for his evening suit, Kouzma, +his old servant, had brought him the coat, waistcoat, and +everything that was wanted. + +"But the shirt!" cried Levin. + +"You've got a shirt on," Kouzma answered, with a placid smile. + +Kouzma had not thought of leaving out a clean shirt, and on +receiving instructions to pack up everything and send it round to +the Shtcherbatskys' house, from which the young people were to +set out the same evening, he had done so, packing everything but +the dress suit. The shirt worn since the morning was crumpled +and out of the question with the fashionable open waistcoat. It +was a long way to send to the Shtcherbatskys'. They sent out to +buy a shirt. The servant came back; everything was shut up--it +was Sunday. They sent to Stepan Arkadyevitch's and brought a +shirt--it was impossibly wide and short. They sent finally to +the Shtcherbatskys' to unpack the things. The bridegroom was +expected at the church while he was pacing up and down his room +like a wild beast in a cage, peeping out into the corridor, and +with horror and despair recalling what absurd things he had said +to Kitty and what she might be thinking now. + +At last the guilty Kouzma flew panting into the room with the +shirt. + +"Only just in time. They were just lifting it into the van," +said Kouzma. + +Three minutes later Levin ran full speed into the corridor, not +looking at his watch for fear of aggravating his sufferings. + +"You won't help matters like this," said Stepan Arkadyevitch with +a smile, hurrying with more deliberation after him. "It will +come round, it will come round...I tell you." + + + +Chapter 4 + + +"They've come!" "Here he is!" "Which one?" "Rather young, eh?" +"Why, my dear soul, she looks more dead than alive!" were the +comments in the crowd, when Levin, meeting his bride in the +entrance, walked with her into the church. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch told his wife the cause of the delay, and the +guests were whispering it with smiles to one another. Levin saw +nothing and no one; he did not take his eyes off his bride. + +Everyone said she had lost her looks dreadfully of late, and was +not nearly so pretty on her wedding day as usual; but Levin did +not think so. He looked at her hair done up high, with the long +white veil and white flowers and the high, stand-up, scalloped +collar, that in such a maidenly fashion hid her long neck at the +sides and only showed it in front, her strikingly slender figure, +and it seemed to him that she looked better than ever--not +because these flowers, this veil, this gown from Paris added +anything to her beauty; but because, in spite of the elaborate +sumptuousness of her attire, the expression of her sweet face, of +her eyes, of her lips was still her own characteristic expression +of guileless truthfulness. + +"I was beginning to think you meant to run away," she said, and +smiled to him. + +"It's so stupid, what happened to me, I'm ashamed to speak of +it!" he said, reddening, and he was obliged to turn to Sergey +Ivanovitch, who came up to him. + +"This is a pretty story of yours about the shirt!" said Sergey +Ivanovitch, shaking his head and smiling. + +"Yes, yes!" answered Levin, without an idea of what they were +talking about. + +"Now, Kostya, you have to decide," said Stepan Arkadyevitch with +an air of mock dismay, "a weighty question. You are at this +moment just in the humor to appreciate all its gravity. They ask +me, are they to light the candles that have been lighted before +or candles that have never been lighted? It's a matter of ten +roubles," he added, relaxing his lips into a smile. "I have +decided, but I was afraid you might not agree." + +Levin saw it was a joke, but he could not smile. + +"Well, how's it to be then?--unlighted or lighted candles? that's +the question." + +"Yes, yes, unlighted." + +"Oh, I'm very glad. The question's decided!" said Stepan +Arkadyevitch, smiling. "How silly men are, though, in this +position," he said to Tchirikov, when Levin, after looking +absently at him, had moved back to his bride. + +"Kitty, mind you're the first to step on the carpet," said +Countess Nordston, coming up. "You're a nice person!" she said +to Levin. + +"Aren't you frightened, eh?" said Marya Dmitrievna, an old aunt. + +"Are you cold? You're pale. Stop a minute, stoop down," said +Kitty's sister, Madame Lvova, and with her plump, handsome arms +she smilingly set straight the flowers on her head. + +Dolly came up, tried to say something, but could not speak, +cried, and then laughed unnaturally. + +Kitty looked at all of them with the same absent eyes as Levin. + +Meanwhile the officiating clergy had got into their vestments, +and the priest and deacon came out to the lectern, which stood in +the forepart of the church. The priest turned to Levin saying +something. Levin did not hear what the priest said. + +"Take the bride's hand and lead her up," the best man said to +Levin. + +It was a long while before Levin could make out what was expected +of him. For a long time they tried to set him right and made him +begin again--because he kept taking Kitty by the wrong arm or +with the wrong arm--till he understood at last that what he had +to do was, without changing his position, to take her right hand +in his right hand. When at last he had taken the bride's hand in +the correct way, the priest walked a few paces in front of them +and stopped at the lectern. The crowd of friends and relations +moved after them, with a buzz of talk and a rustle of skirts. +Someone stooped down and pulled out the bride's train. The +church became so still that the drops of wax could be heard +falling from the candles. + +The little old priest in his ecclesiastical cap, with his long +silvery-gray locks of hair parted behind his ears, was fumbling +with something at the lectern, putting out his little old hands +from under the heavy silver vestment with the gold cross on the +back of it. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch approached him cautiously, whispered +something, and making a sign to Levin, walked back again. + +The priest lighted two candles, wreathed with flowers, and +holding them sideways so that the wax dropped slowly from them he +turned, facing the bridal pair. The priest was the same old man +that had confessed Levin. He looked with weary and melancholy +eyes at the bride and bridegroom, sighed, and putting his right +hand out from his vestment, blessed the bridegroom with it, and +also with a shade of solicitous tenderness laid the crossed +fingers on the bowed head of Kitty. Then he gave them the +candles, and taking the censer, moved slowly away from them. + +"Can it be true?" thought Levin, and he looked round at his +bride. Looking down at her he saw her face in profile, and from +the scarcely perceptible quiver of her lips and eyelashes he knew +she was aware of his eyes upon her. She did not look round, but +the high scalloped collar, that reached her little pink ear, +trembled faintly. He saw that a sigh was held back in her +throat, and the little hand in the long glove shook as it held +the candle. + +All the fuss of the shirt, of being late, all the talk of friends +and relations, their annoyance, his ludicrous position--all +suddenly passed away and he was filled with joy and dread. + +The handsome, stately head-deacon wearing a silver robe and his +curly locks standing out at each side of his head, stepped +smartly forward, and lifting his stole on two fingers, stood +opposite the priest. + +"Blessed be the name of the Lord," the solemn syllables rang out +slowly one after another, setting the air quivering with waves of +sound. + +"Blessed is the name of our God, from the beginning, is now, and +ever shall be," the little old priest answered in a submissive, +piping voice, still fingering something at the lectern. And the +full chorus of the unseen choir rose up, filling the whole +church, from the windows to the vaulted roof, with broad waves of +melody. It grew stronger, rested for an instant, and slowly died +away. + +They prayed, as they always do, for peace from on high and for +salvation, for the Holy Synod, and for the Tsar; they prayed, +too, for the servants of God, Konstantin and Ekaterina, now +plighting their troth. + +"Vouchsafe to them love made perfect, peace and help, O Lord, we +beseech Thee," the whole church seemed to breathe with the voice +of the head deacon. + +Levin heard the words, and they impressed him. "How did they +guess that it is help, just help that one wants?" he thought, +recalling all his fears and doubts of late. "What do I know? +what can I do in this fearful business," he thought, "without +help? Yes, it is help I want now." + +When the deacon had finished the prayer for the Imperial family, +the priest turned to the bridal pair with a book: "Eternal God, +that joinest together in love them that were separate," he read +in a gentle, piping voice: "who hast ordained the union of holy +wedlock that cannot be set asunder, Thou who didst bless Isaac +and Rebecca and their descendants, according to Thy Holy +Covenant; bless Thy servants, Konstantin and Ekaterina, leading +them in the path of all good works. For gracious and merciful +art Thou, our Lord, and glory be to Thee, the Father, the Son, +and the Holy Ghost, now and ever shall be." + +"Amen!" the unseen choir sent rolling again upon the air. + +"'Joinest together in love them that were separate.' What deep +meaning in those words, and how they correspond with what one +feels at this moment," thought Levin. "Is she feeling the same +as I?" + +And looking round, he met her eyes, and from their expression he +concluded that she was understanding it just as he was. But this +was a mistake; she almost completely missed the meaning of the +words of the service; she had not heard them, in fact. She could +not listen to them and take them in, so strong was the one +feeling that filled her breast and grew stronger and stronger. +That feeling was joy at the completion of the process that for +the last month and a half had been going on in her soul, and had +during those six weeks been a joy and a torture to her. On the +day when in the drawing room of the house in Arbaty Street she +had gone up to him in her brown dress, and given herself to him +without a word--on that day, at that hour, there took place in +her heart a complete severance from all her old life, and a quite +different, new, utterly strange life had begun for her, while the +old life was actually going on as before. Those six weeks had +for her been a time of the utmost bliss and the utmost misery. +All her life, all her desires and hopes were concentrated on this +one man, still uncomprehended by her, to whom she was bound by a +feeling of alternate attraction and repulsion, even less +comprehended than the man himself, and all the while she was +going on living in the outward conditions of her old life. +Living the old life, she was horrified at herself, at her utter +insurmountable callousness to all her own past, to things, to +habits, to the people she had loved, who loved her--to her +mother, who was wounded by her indifference, to her kind, tender +father, till then dearer than all the world. At one moment she +was horrified at this indifference, at another she rejoiced at +what had brought her to this indifference. She could not frame a +thought, not a wish apart from life with this man; but this new +life was not yet, and she could not even picture it clearly to +herself. There was only anticipation, the dread and joy of the +new and the unknown. And now behold--anticipation and +uncertainty and remorse at the abandonment of the old life--all +was ending, and the new was beginning. This new life could not +but have terrors for her inexperience; but, terrible or not, the +change had been wrought six weeks before in her soul, and this +was merely the final sanction of what had long been completed in +her heart. + +Turning again to the lectern, the priest with some difficulty +took Kitty's little ring, and asking Levin for his hand, put it +on the first joint of his finger. "The servant of God, +Konstantin, plights his troth to the servant of God, Ekaterina." +And putting his big ring on Kitty's touchingly weak, pink little +finger, the priest said the same thing. + +And the bridal pair tried several times to understand what they +had to do, and each time made some mistake and were corrected by +the priest in a whisper. At last, having duly performed the +ceremony, having signed the rings with the cross, the priest +handed Kitty the big ring, and Levin the little one. Again they +were puzzled, and passed the rings from hand to hand, still +without doing what was expected. + +Dolly, Tchirikov, and Stepan Arkadyevitch stepped forward to set +them right. There was an interval of hesitation, whispering, and +smiles; but the expression of solemn emotion on the faces of the +betrothed pair did not change: on the contrary, in their +perplexity over their hands they looked more grave and deeply +moved than before, and the smile with which Stepan Arkadyevitch +whispered to them that now they would each put on their own ring +died away on his lips. He had a feeling that any smile would jar +on them. + +"Thou who didst from the beginning create male and female," the +priest read after the exchange of rings, "from Thee woman was +given to man to be a helpmeet to him, and for the procreation of +children. O Lord, our God, who hast poured down the blessings of +Thy Truth according to Thy Holy Covenant upon Thy chosen +servants, our fathers, from generation to generation, bless Thy +servants Konstantin and Ekaterina, and make their troth fast in +faith, and union of hearts, and truth, and love...." + +Levin felt more and more that all his ideas of marriage, all his +dreams of how he would order his life, were mere childishness, +and that it was something he had not understood hitherto, and now +understood less than ever, though it was being performed upon +him. The lump in his throat rose higher and higher, tears that +would not be checked came into his eyes. + + + +Chapter 5 + + +In the church there was all Moscow, all the friends and +relations; and during the ceremony of plighting troth, in the +brilliantly lighted church, there was an incessant flow of +discreetly subdued talk in the circle of gaily dressed women and +girls, and men in white ties, frockcoats, and uniforms. The talk +was principally kept up by the men, while the women were absorbed +in watching every detail of the ceremony, which always means so +much to them. + +In the little group nearest to the bride were her two sisters: +Dolly, and the other one, the self-possessed beauty, Madame +Lvova, who had just arrived from abroad. + +"Why is it Marie's in lilac, as bad as black, at a wedding?" said +Madame Korsunskaya. + +"With her complexion, it's the one salvation," responded Madame +Trubetskaya. "I wonder why they had the wedding in the evening? +It's like shop-people..." + +"So much prettier. I was married in the evening too..." answered +Madame Korsunskaya, and she sighed, remembering how charming she +had been that day, and how absurdly in love her husband was, and +how different it all was now. + +"They say if anyone's best man more than ten times, he'll never +be married. I wanted to be for the tenth time, but the post was +taken," said Count Siniavin to the pretty Princess Tcharskaya, +who had designs on him. + +Princess Tcharskaya only answered with a smile. She looked at +Kitty, thinking how and when she would stand with Count Siniavin +in Kitty's place, and how she would remind him then of his joke +today. + +Shtcherbatsky told the old maid of honor, Madame Nikolaeva, that +he meant to put the crown on Kitty's chignon for luck. + +"She ought not to have worn a chignon," answered Madame +Nikolaeva, who had long ago made up her mind that if the elderly +widower she was angling for married her, the wedding should be of +the simplest. "I don't like such grandeur." + +Sergey Ivanovitch was talking to Darya Dmitrievna, jestingly +assuring her that the custom of going away after the wedding was +becoming common because newly married people always felt a little +ashamed of themselves. + +"Your brother may feel proud of himself. She's a marvel of +sweetness. I believe you're envious." + +"Oh, I've got over that, Darya Dmitrievna," he answered, and a +melancholy and serious expression suddenly came over his face. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch was telling his sister-in-law his joke about +divorce. + +"The wreath wants setting straight," she answered, not hearing +him. + +"What a pity she's lost her looks so," Countess Nordston said to +Madame Lvova. "Still he's not worth her little finger, is he?" + +"Oh, I like him so--not because he's my future _beau-frere_," +answered Madame Lvova. "And how well he's behaving! It's so +difficult, too, to look well in such a position, not to be +ridiculous. And he's not ridiculous, and not affected; one can +see he's moved." + +"You expected it, I suppose?" + +"Almost. She always cared for him." + +"Well, we shall see which of them will step on the rug first. I +warned Kitty." + +"It will make no difference," said Madame Lvova; "we're all +obedient wives; it's in our family." + +"Oh, I stepped on the rug before Vassily on purpose. And you, +Dolly?" + +Dolly stood beside them; she heard them, but she did not answer. +She was deeply moved. The tears stood in her eyes, and she could +not have spoken without crying. She was rejoicing over Kitty and +Levin; going back in thought to her own wedding, she glanced at +the radiant figure of Stepan Arkadyevitch, forgot all the +present, and remembered only her own innocent love. She recalled +not herself only, but all her women-friends and acquaintances. +She thought of them on the one day of their triumph, when they +had stood like Kitty under the wedding crown, with love and hope +and dread in their hearts, renouncing the past, and stepping +forward into the mysterious future. Among the brides that came +back to her memory, she thought too of her darling Anna, of whose +proposed divorce she had just been hearing. And she had stood +just as innocent in orange flowers and bridal veil. And now? +"It's terribly strange," she said to herself. It was not merely +the sisters, the women-friends and female relations of the bride +who were following every detail of the ceremony. Women who were +quite strangers, mere spectators, were watching it excitedly, +holding their breath, in fear of losing a single movement or +expression of the bride and bridegroom, and angrily not +answering, often not hearing, the remarks of the callous men, who +kept making joking or irrelevant observations. + +"Why has she been crying? Is she being married against her +will?" + +"Against her will to a fine fellow like that? A prince, isn't +he?" + +"Is that her sister in the white satin? Just listen how the +deacon booms out, 'And fearing her husband.'" + +"Are the choristers from Tchudovo?" + +"No, from the Synod." + +"I asked the footman. He says he's going to take her home to +his country place at once. Awfully rich, they say. That's why +she's being married to him." + +"No, they're a well-matched pair." + +"I say, Marya Vassilievna, you were making out those fly-away +crinolines were not being worn. Just look at her in the puce +dress--an ambassador's wife they say she is--how her skirt +bounces out from side to side!" + +"What a pretty dear the bride is--like a lamb decked with +flowers! Well, say what you will, we women feel for our sister." + +Such were the comments in the crowd of gazing women who had +succeeded in slipping in at the church doors. + + + +Chapter 6 + + +When the ceremony of plighting troth was over, the beadle spread +before the lectern in the middle of the church a piece of pink +silken stuff, the choir sang a complicated and elaborate psalm, +in which the bass and tenor sang responses to one another, and +the priest turning round pointed the bridal pair to the pink silk +rug. Though both had often heard a great deal about the saying +that the one who steps first on the rug will be the head of the +house, neither Levin nor Kitty were capable of recollecting it, +as they took the few steps towards it. They did not hear the +loud remarks and disputes that followed, some maintaining he had +stepped on first, and others that both had stepped on together. + +After the customary questions, whether they desired to enter upon +matrimony, and whether they were pledged to anyone else, and +their answers, which sounded strange to themselves, a new +ceremony began. Kitty listened to the words of the prayer, +trying to make out their meaning, but she could not. The feeling +of triumph and radiant happiness flooded her soul more and more +as the ceremony went on, and deprived her of all power of +attention. + +They prayed: "Endow them with continence and fruitfulness, and +vouchsafe that their hearts may rejoice looking upon their sons +and daughters." They alluded to God's creation of a wife from +Adam's rib "and for this cause a man shall leave father and +mother, and cleave unto his wife, and they two shall be one +flesh," and that "this is a great mystery"; they prayed that God +would make them fruitful and bless them, like Isaac and Rebecca, +Joseph, Moses and Zipporah, and that they might look upon their +children's children. "That's all splendid," thought Kitty, +catching the words, "all that's just as it should be," and a +smile of happiness, unconsciously reflected in everyone who +looked at her, beamed on her radiant face. + +"Put it on quite," voices were heard urging when the priest had +put on the wedding crowns and Shtcherbatsky, his hand shaking in +its three-button glove, held the crown high above her head. + +"Put it on!" she whispered, smiling. + +Levin looked round at her, and was struck by the joyful radiance +on her face, and unconsciously her feeling infected him. He too, +like her felt glad and happy. + +They enjoyed hearing the epistle read, and the roll of the head +deacon's voice at the last verse, awaited with such impatience by +the outside public. They enjoyed drinking out of the shallow cup +of warm red wine and water, and they were still more pleased when +the priest, flinging back his stole and taking both their hands +in his, led them round the lectern to the accompaniment of bass +voices chanting "Glory to God." + +Shtcherbatsky and Tchirikov, supporting the crowns and stumbling +over the bride's train, smiling too and seeming delighted at +something, were at one moment left behind, at the next treading +on the bridal pair as the priest came to a halt. The spark of +joy kindled in Kitty seemed to have infected everyone in the +church. It seemed to Levin that the priest and the deacon too +wanted to smile just as he did. + +Taking the crowns off their heads the priest read the last prayer +and congratulated the young people. Levin looked at Kitty, and +he had never before seen her look as she did. She was charming +with the new radiance of happiness in her face. Levin longed to +say something to her, but he did not know whether it was all +over. The priest got him out of his difficulty. He smiled his +kindly smile and said gently, "Kiss your wife, and you kiss your +husband," and took the candles out of their hands. + +Levin kissed her smiling lips with timid care, gave her his arm, +and with a new strange sense of closeness, walked out of the +church. He did not believe, he could not believe, that it was +true. It was only when their wondering and timid eyes met that +he believed in it, because he felt that they were one. + +After supper, the same night, the young people left for the +country. + + + +Chapter 7 + + +Vronsky and Anna had been traveling for three months together in +Europe. They had visited Venice, Rome, and Naples, and had just +arrived at a small Italian town where they meant to stay some +time. A handsome head waiter, with thick pomaded hair parted +from the neck upwards, an evening coat, a broad white cambric +shirt front, and a bunch of trinkets hanging above his rounded +stomach, stood with his hands in the full curve of his pockets, +looking contemptuously from under his eyelids while he gave some +frigid reply to a gentleman who had stopped him. Catching the +sound of footsteps coming from the other side of the entry +towards the staircase, the head waiter turned round, and seeing +the Russian count, who had taken their best rooms, he took his +hands out of his pockets deferentially, and with a bow informed +him that a courier had been, and that the business about the +palazzo had been arranged. The steward was prepared to sign the +agreement. + +"Ah! I'm glad to hear it," said Vronsky. "Is madame at home or +not?" + +"Madame has been out for a walk but has returned now," answered +the waiter. + +Vronsky took off his soft, wide-brimmed hat and passed his +handkerchief over his heated brow and hair, which had grown half +over his ears, and was brushed back covering the bald patch on +his head. And glancing casually at the gentleman, who still +stood there gazing intently at him, he would have gone on. + +"This gentleman is a Russian, and was inquiring after you," said +the head waiter. + +With mingled feelings of annoyance at never being able to get +away from acquaintances anywhere, and longing to find some sort +of diversion from the monotony of his life, Vronsky looked once +more at the gentleman, who had retreated and stood still again, +and at the same moment a light came into the eyes of both. + +"Golenishtchev!" + +"Vronsky!" + +It really was Golenishtchev, a comrade of Vronsky's in the Corps +of Pages. In the corps Golenishtchev had belonged to the liberal +party; he left the corps without entering the army, and had never +taken office under the government. Vronsky and he had gone +completely different ways on leaving the corps, and had only met +once since. + +At that meeting Vronsky perceived that Golenishtchev had taken up +a sort of lofty, intellectually liberal line, and was +consequently disposed to look down upon Vronsky's interests and +calling in life. Hence Vronsky had met him with the chilling and +haughty manner he so well knew how to assume, the meaning of +which was: "You may like or dislike my way of life, that's a +matter of the most perfect indifference to me; you will have to +treat me with respect if you want to know me." Golenishtchev had +been contemptuously indifferent to the tone taken by Vronsky. +This second meeting might have been expected, one would have +supposed, to estrange them still more. But now they beamed and +exclaimed with delight on recognizing one another. Vronsky would +never have expected to be so pleased to see Golenishtchev, but +probably he was not himself aware how bored he was. He forgot +the disagreeable impression of their last meeting, and with a +face of frank delight held out his hand to his old comrade. The +same expression of delight replaced the look of uneasiness on +Golenishtchev's face. + +"How glad I am to meet you!" said Vronsky, showing his strong +white teeth in a friendly smile. + +"I heard the name Vronsky, but I didn't know which one. I'm +very, very glad!" + +"Let's go in. Come, tell me what you're doing." + +"I've been living here for two years. I'm working." + +"Ah!" said Vronsky, with sympathy; "let's go in." And with the +habit common with Russians, instead of saying in Russian what he +wanted to keep from the servants, he began to speak in French. + +"Do you know Madame Karenina? We are traveling together. I am +going to see her now," he said in French, carefully scrutinizing +Golenishtchev's face. + +"Ah! I did not know" (though he did know), Golenishtchev answered +carelessly. "Have you been here long?" he added. + +"Four days," Vronsky answered, once more scrutinizing his +friend's face intently. + +"Yes, he's a decent fellow, and will look at the thing properly," +Vronsky said to himself, catching the significance of +Golenishtchev's face and the change of subject. "I can introduce +him to Anna, he looks at it properly." + +During those three months that Vronsky had spent abroad with +Anna, he had always on meeting new people asked himself how the +new person would look at his relations with Anna, and for the +most part, in men, he had met with the "proper" way of looking at +it. But if he had been asked, and those who looked at it +"properly" had been asked, exactly how they did look at it, both +he and they would have been greatly puzzled to answer. + +In reality, those who in Vronsky's opinion had the "proper" view +had no sort of view at all, but behaved in general as well-bred +persons do behave in regard to all the complex and insoluble +problems with which life is encompassed on all sides; they +behaved with propriety, avoiding allusions and unpleasant +questions. They assumed an air of fully comprehending the import +and force of the situation, of accepting and even approving of +it, but of considering it superfluous and uncalled for to put all +this into words. + +Vronsky at once divined that Golenishtchev was of this class, and +therefore was doubly pleased to see him. And in fact, +Golenishtchev's manner to Madame Karenina, when he was taken to +call on her, was all that Vronsky could have desired. Obviously +without the slightest effort he steered clear of all subjects +which might lead to embarrassment. + +He had never met Anna before, and was struck by her beauty, and +still more by the frankness with which she accepted her position. +She blushed when Vronsky brought in Golenishtchev, and he was +extremely charmed by this childish blush overspreading her candid +and handsome face. But what he liked particularly was the way in +which at once, as though on purpose that there might be no +misunderstanding with an outsider, she called Vronsky simply +Alexey, and said they were moving into a house they had just +taken, what was here called a palazzo. Golenishtchev liked this +direct and simple attitude to her own position. Looking at +Anna's manner of simple-hearted, spirited gaiety, and knowing +Alexey Alexandrovitch and Vronsky, Golenishtchev fancied that he +understood her perfectly. He fancied that he understood what she +was utterly unable to understand: how it was that, having made +her husband wretched, having abandoned him and her son and lost +her good name, she yet felt full of spirits, gaiety, and +happiness. + +"It's in the guide-book," said Golenishtchev, referring to the +palazzo Vronsky had taken. "There's a first-rate Tintoretto +there. One of his latest period." + +"I tell you what: it's a lovely day, let's go and have another +look at it," said Vronsky, addressing Anna. + +"I shall be very glad to; I'll go and put on my hat. Would you +say it's hot?" she said, stopping short in the doorway and +looking inquiringly at Vronsky. And again a vivid flush +overspread her face. + +Vronsky saw from her eyes that she did not know on what terms he +cared to be with Golenishtchev, and so was afraid of not behaving +as he would wish. + +He looked a long, tender look at her. + +"No, not very," he said. + +And it seemed to her that she understood everything, most of all, +that he was pleased with her; and smiling to him, she walked with +her rapid step out at the door. + +The friends glanced at one another, and a look of hesitation came +into both faces, as though Golenishtchev, unmistakably admiring +her, would have liked to say something about her, and could not +find the right thing to say, while Vronsky desired and dreaded +his doing so. + +"Well then," Vronsky began to start a conversation of some sort; +"so you're settled here? You're still at the same work, then?" +he went on, recalling that he had been told Golenishtchev was +writing something. + +"Yes, I'm writing the second part of the _Two Elements_," said +Golenishtchev, coloring with pleasure at the question--"that is, +to be exact, I am not writing it yet; I am preparing, collecting +materials. It will be of far wider scope, and will touch on +almost all questions. We in Russia refuse to see that we are the +heirs of Byzantium," and he launched into a long and heated +explanation of his views. + +Vronsky at the first moment felt embarrassed at not even knowing +of the first part of the _Two Elements_, of which the author spoke +as something well known. But as Golenishtchev began to lay down +his opinions and Vronsky was able to follow them even without +knowing the _Two Elements_, he listened to him with some interest, +for Golenishtchev spoke well. But Vronsky was startled and +annoyed by the nervous irascibility with which Golenishtchev +talked of the subject that engrossed him. As he went on talking, +his eyes glittered more and more angrily; he was more and more +hurried in his replies to imaginary opponents, and his face grew +more and more excited and worried. Remembering Golenishtchev, a +thin, lively, good-natured and well-bred boy, always at the head +of the class, Vronsky could not make out the reason of his +irritability, and he did not like it. What he particularly +disliked was that Golenishtchev, a man belonging to a good set, +should put himself on a level with some scribbling fellows, with +whom he was irritated and angry. Was it worth it? Vronsky +disliked it, yet he felt that Golenishtchev was unhappy, and was +sorry for him. Unhappiness, almost mental derangement, was +visible on his mobile, rather handsome face, while without even +noticing Anna's coming in, he went on hurriedly and hotly +expressing his views. + +When Anna came in in her hat and cape, and her lovely hand +rapidly swinging her parasol, and stood beside him, it was with a +feeling of relief that Vronsky broke away from the plaintive eyes +of Golenishtchev which fastened persistently upon him, and with a +fresh rush of love looked at his charming companion, full of life +and happiness. Golenishtchev recovered himself with an effort, +and at first was dejected and gloomy, but Anna, disposed to feel +friendly with everyone as she was at that time, soon revived his +spirits by her direct and lively manner. After trying various +subjects of conversation, she got him upon painting, of which he +talked very well, and she listened to him attentively. They +walked to the house they had taken, and looked over it. + +"I am very glad of one thing," said Anna to Golenishtchev when +they were on their way back, "Alexey will have a capital _atelier_. +You must certainly take that room," she said to Vronsky in +Russian, using the affectionately familiar form as though she saw +that Golenishtchev would become intimate with them in their +isolation, and that there was no need of reserve before him. + +"Do you paint?" said Golenishtchev, turning round quickly to +Vronsky. + +"Yes, I used to study long ago, and now I have begun to do a +little," said Vronsky, reddening. + +"He has great talent," said Anna with a delighted smile. "I'm no +judge, of course. But good judges have said the same." + + + +Chapter 8 + + +Anna, in that first period of her emancipation and rapid return +to health, felt herself unpardonably happy and full of the joy +of life. The thought of her husband's unhappiness did not poison +her happiness. On one side that memory was too awful to be +thought of. On the other side her husband's unhappiness had +given her too much happiness to be regretted. The memory of all +that had happened after her illness: her reconciliation with her +husband, its breakdown, the news of Vronsky's wound, his visit, +the preparations for divorce, the departure from her husband's +house, the parting from her son--all that seemed to her like a +delirious dream, from which she had waked up alone with Vronsky +abroad. The thought of the harm caused to her husband aroused in +her a feeling like repulsion, and akin to what a drowning man +might feel who has shaken off another man clinging to him. That +man did drown. It was an evil action, of course, but it was the +sole means of escape, and better not to brood over these fearful +facts. + +One consolatory reflection upon her conduct had occurred to her +at the first moment of the final rupture, and when now she +recalled all the past, she remembered that one reflection. "I +have inevitably made that man wretched," she thought; "but I +don't want to profit by his misery. I too am suffering, and +shall suffer; I am losing what I prized above everything--I am +losing my good name and my son. I have done wrong, and so I +don't want happiness, I don't want a divorce, and shall suffer +from my shame and the separation from my child." But, however +sincerely Anna had meant to suffer, she was not suffering. Shame +there was not. With the tact of which both had such a large +share, they had succeeded in avoiding Russian ladies abroad, and +so had never placed themselves in a false position, and +everywhere they had met people who pretended that they perfectly +understood their position, far better indeed than they did +themselves. Separation from the son she loved--even that did not +cause her anguish in these early days. The baby girl--_his_ +child--was so sweet, and had so won Anna's heart, since she was +all that was left her, that Anna rarely thought of her son. + +The desire for life, waxing stronger with recovered health, was +so intense, and the conditions of life were so new and pleasant, +that Anna felt unpardonably happy. The more she got to know +Vronsky, the more she loved him. She loved him for himself, and +for his love for her. Her complete ownership of him was a +continual joy to her. His presence was always sweet to her. All +the traits of his character, which she learned to know better and +better, were unutterably dear to her. His appearance, changed by +his civilian dress, was as fascinating to her as though she were +some young girl in love. In everything he said, thought, and +did, she saw something particularly noble and elevated. Her +adoration of him alarmed her indeed; she sought and could not +find in him anything not fine. She dared not show him her sense +of her own insignificance beside him. It seemed to her that, +knowing this, he might sooner cease to love her; and she dreaded +nothing now so much as losing his love, though she had no grounds +for fearing it. But she could not help being grateful to him for +his attitude to her, and showing that she appreciated it. He, +who had in her opinion such a marked aptitude for a political +career, in which he would have been certain to play a leading +part--he had sacrificed his ambition for her sake, and never +betrayed the slightest regret. He was more lovingly respectful +to her than ever, and the constant care that she should not feel +the awkwardness of her position never deserted him for a single +instant. He, so manly a man, never opposed her, had indeed, with +her, no will of his own, and was anxious, it seemed, for nothing +but to anticipate her wishes. And she could not but appreciate +this, even though the very intensity of his solicitude for her, +the atmosphere of care with which he surrounded her, sometimes +weighed upon her. + +Vronsky, meanwhile, in spite of the complete realization of what +he had so long desired, was not perfectly happy. He soon felt +that the realization of his desires gave him no more than a grain +of sand out of the mountain of happiness he had expected. It +showed him the mistake men make in picturing to themselves +happiness as the realization of their desires. For a time after +joining his life to hers, and putting on civilian dress, he had +felt all the delight of freedom in general of which he had known +nothing before, and of freedom in his love,--and he was content, +but not for long. He was soon aware that there was springing up +in his heart a desire for desires--_ennui_. Without conscious +intention he began to clutch at every passing caprice, taking it +for a desire and an object. Sixteen hours of the day must be +occupied in some way, since they were living abroad in complete +freedom, outside the conditions of social life which filled up +time in Petersburg. As for the amusements of bachelor existence, +which had provided Vronsky with entertainment on previous tours +abroad, they could not be thought of, since the sole attempt of +the sort had led to a sudden attack of depression in Anna, quite +out of proportion with the cause--a late supper with bachelor +friends. Relations with the society of the place--foreign and +Russian--were equally out of the question owing to the +irregularity of their position. The inspection of objects of +interest, apart from the fact that everything had been seen +already, had not for Vronsky, a Russian and a sensible man, the +immense significance Englishmen are able to attach to that +pursuit. + +And just as the hungry stomach eagerly accepts every object it +can get, hoping to find nourishment in it, Vronsky quite +unconsciously clutched first at politics, then at new books, and +then at pictures. + +As he had from a child a taste for painting, and as, not knowing +what to spend his money on, he had begun collecting engravings, +he came to a stop at painting, began to take interest in it, and +concentrated upon it the unoccupied mass of desires which +demanded satisfaction. + +He had a ready appreciation of art, and probably, with a taste +for imitating art, he supposed himself to have the real thing +essential for an artist, and after hesitating for some time which +style of painting to select--religious, historical, realistic, or +genre painting--he set to work to paint. He appreciated all +kinds, and could have felt inspired by any one of them; but he +had no conception of the possibility of knowing nothing at all of +any school of painting, and of being inspired directly by what is +within the soul, without caring whether what is painted will +belong to any recognized school. Since he knew nothing of this, +and drew his inspiration, not directly from life, but indirectly +from life embodied in art, his inspiration came very quickly and +easily, and as quickly and easily came his success in painting +something very similar to the sort of painting he was trying to +imitate. + +More than any other style he liked the French--graceful and +effective--and in that style he began to paint Anna's portrait in +Italian costume, and the portrait seemed to him, and to everyone +who saw it, extremely successful. + + + +Chapter 9 + + +The old neglected palazzo, with its lofty carved ceilings and +frescoes on the walls, with its floors of mosaic, with its heavy +yellow stuff curtains on the windows, with its vases on +pedestals, and its open fireplaces, its carved doors and gloomy +reception rooms, hung with pictures--this palazzo did much, by +its very appearance after they had moved into it, to confirm in +Vronsky the agreeable illusion that he was not so much a Russian +country gentleman, a retired army officer, as an enlightened +amateur and patron of the arts, himself a modest artist who had +renounced the world, his connections, and his ambition for the +sake of the woman he loved. + +The pose chosen by Vronsky with their removal into the palazzo +was completely successful, and having, through Golenishtchev, +made acquaintance with a few interesting people, for a time he +was satisfied. He painted studies from nature under the guidance +of an Italian professor of painting, and studied mediaeval +Italian life. Mediaeval Italian life so fascinated Vronsky that +he even wore a hat and flung a cloak over his shoulder in the +mediaeval style, which, indeed, was extremely becoming to him. + +"Here we live, and know nothing of what's going on," Vronsky said +to Golenishtchev as he came to see him one morning. "Have you +seen Mihailov's picture?" he said, handing him a Russian gazette +he had received that morning, and pointing to an article on a +Russian artist, living in the very same town, and just finishing +a picture which had long been talked about, and had been bought +beforehand. The article reproached the government and the +academy for letting so remarkable an artist be left without +encouragement and support. + +"I've seen it," answered Golenishtchev. "Of course, he's not +without talent, but it's all in a wrong direction. It's all the +Ivanov-Strauss-Renan attitude to Christ and to religious +painting." + +"What is the subject of the picture?" asked Anna. + +"Christ before Pilate. Christ is represented as a Jew with all +the realism of the new school." + +And the question of the subject of the picture having brought him +to one of his favorite theories, Golenishtchev launched forth +into a disquisition on it. + +"I can't understand how they can fall into such a gross mistake. +Christ always has His definite embodiment in the art of the great +masters. And therefore, if they want to depict, not God, but a +revolutionist or a sage, let them take from history a Socrates, a +Franklin, a Charlotte Corday, but not Christ. They take the very +figure which cannot be taken for their art, and then..." + +"And is it true that this Mihailov is in such poverty?" asked +Vronsky, thinking that, as a Russian Maecenas, it was his duty to +assist the artist regardless of whether the picture were good or +bad. + +"I should say not. He's a remarkable portrait-painter. Have you +ever seen his portrait of Madame Vassiltchikova? But I believe he +doesn't care about painting any more portraits, and so very +likely he is in want. I maintain that..." + +"Couldn't we ask him to paint a portrait of Anna Arkadyevna?" +said Vronsky. + +"Why mine?" said Anna. "After yours I don't want another +portrait. Better have one of Annie" (so she called her baby +girl). "Here she is," she added, looking out of the window at +the handsome Italian nurse, who was carrying the child out into +the garden, and immediately glancing unnoticed at Vronsky. The +handsome nurse, from whom Vronsky was painting a head for his +picture, was the one hidden grief in Anna's life. He painted +with her as his model, admired her beauty and mediaevalism, and +Anna dared not confess to herself that she was afraid of becoming +jealous of this nurse, and was for that reason particularly +gracious and condescending both to her and her little son. +Vronsky, too, glanced out of the window and into Anna's eyes, +and, turning at once to Golenishtchev, he said: + +"Do you know this Mihailov?" + +"I have met him. But he's a queer fish, and quite without +breeding. You know, one of those uncouth new people one's so +often coming across nowadays, one of those free-thinkers you +know, who are reared _d'emblee_ in theories of atheism, scepticism, +and materialism. In former days," said Golenishtchev, not +observing, or not willing to observe, that both Anna and Vronsky +wanted to speak, "in former days the free-thinker was a man who +had been brought up in ideas of religion, law, and morality, and +only through conflict and struggle came to free-thought; but now +there has sprung up a new type of born free-thinkers who grow up +without even having heard of principles of morality or of +religion, of the existence of authorities, who grow up directly +in ideas of negation in everything, that is to say, savages. +Well, he's of that class. He's the son, it appears, of some +Moscow butler, and has never had any sort of bringing-up. When +he got into the academy and made his reputation he tried, as he's +no fool, to educate himself. And he turned to what seemed to him +the very source of culture--the magazines. In old times, you +see, a man who wanted to educate himself--a Frenchman, for +instance--would have set to work to study all the classics and +theologians and tragedians and historiaris and philosophers, and, +you know, all the intellectual work that came in his way. But in +our day he goes straight for the literature of negation, very +quickly assimilates all the extracts of the science of negation, +and he's ready. And that's not all--twenty years ago he would +have found in that literature traces of conflict with +authorities, with the creeds of the ages; he would have perceived +from this conflict that there was something else; but now he +comes at once upon a literature in which the old creeds do not +even furnish matter for discussion, but it is stated baldly that +there is nothing else--evolution, natural selection, struggle for +existence--and that's all. In my article I've..." + +"I tell you what," said Anna, who had for a long while been +exchanging wary glances with Vronsky, and knew that he was not in +the least interested in the education of this artist, but was +simply absorbed by the idea of assisting him, and ordering a +portrait of him; "I tell you what," she said, resolutely +interrupting Golenishtchev, who was still talking away, "let's go +and see him!" + +Golenishtchev recovered his self-possession and readily agreed. +But as the artist lived in a remote suburb, it was decided to +take the carriage. + +An hour later Anna, with Golenishtchev by her side and Vronsky on +the front seat of the carriage, facing them, drove up to a new +ugly house in the remote suburb. On learning from the porter's +wife, who came out to them, that Mihailov saw visitors at his +studio, but that at that moment he was in his lodging only a +couple of steps off, they sent her to him with their cards, +asking permission to see his picture. + + + +Chapter 10 + + + +The artist Mihailov was, as always, at work when the cards of +Count Vronsky and Golenishtchev were brought to him. In the +morning he had been working in his studio at his big picture. On +getting home he flew into a rage with his wife for not having +managed to put off the landlady, who had been asking for money. + +"I've said it to you twenty times, don't enter into details. +You're fool enough at all times, and when you start explaining +things in Italian you're a fool three times as foolish," he said +after a long dispute. + +"Don't let it run so long; it's not my fault. If I had the +money..." + +"Leave me in peace, for God's sake!" Mihailov shrieked, with +tears in his voice, and, stopping his ears, he went off into his +working room, the other side of a partition wall, and closed the +door after him. "Idiotic woman!" he said to himself, sat down to +the table, and, opening a portfolio, he set to work at once with +peculiar fervor at a sketch he had begun. + +Never did he work with such fervor and success as when things +went ill with him, and especially when he quarreled with his +wife. "Oh! damn them all!" he thought as he went on working. He +was making a sketch for the figure of a man in a violent rage. A +sketch had been made before, but he was dissatisfied with it. +"No, that one was better...where is it?" He went back to his +wife, and scowling, and not looking at her, asked his eldest +little girl, where was that piece of paper he had given them? +The paper with the discarded sketch on it was found, but it was +dirty, and spotted with candle-grease. Still, he took the +sketch, laid it on his table, and, moving a little away, screwing +up his eyes, he fell to gazing at it. All at once he smiled and +gesticulated gleefully. + +"That's it! that's it!" he said, and, at once picking up the +pencil, he began rapidly drawing. The spot of tallow had given +the man a new pose. + +He had sketched this new pose, when all at once he recalled the +face of a shopkeeper of whom he had bought cigars, a vigorous +face with a prominent chin, and he sketched this very face, this +chin on to the figure of the man. He laughed aloud with delight. +The figure from a lifeless imagined thing had become living, and +such that it could never be changed. That figure lived, and was +clearly and unmistakably defined. The sketch might be corrected +in accordance with the requirements of the figure, the legs, +indeed, could and must be put differently, and the position of +the left hand must be quite altered; the hair too might be thrown +back. But in making these corrections he was not altering the +figure but simply getting rid of what concealed the figure. He +was, as it were, stripping off the wrappings which hindered it +from being distinctly seen. Each new feature only brought out +the whole figure in all its force and vigor, as it had suddenly +come to him from the spot of tallow. He was carefully finishing +the figure when the cards were brought him. + +"Coming, coming!" + +He went in to his wife. + +"Come, Sasha, don't be cross!" he said, smiling timidly and +affectionately at her. "You were to blame. I was to blame. +I'll make it all right." And having made peace with his wife he +put on an olive-green overcoat with a velvet collar and a hat, +and went towards his studio. The successful figure he had +already forgotten. Now he was delighted and excited at the visit +of these people of consequence, Russians, who had come in their +carriage. + +Of his picture, the one that stood now on his easel, he had at +the bottom of his heart one conviction--that no one had ever +painted a picture like it. He did not believe that his picture +was better than all the pictures of Raphael, but he knew that +what he tried to convey in that picture, no one ever had +conveyed. This he knew positively, and had known a long while, +ever since he had begun to paint it. But other people's +criticisms, whatever they might be, had yet immense consequence +in his eyes, and they agitated him to the depths of his soul. +Any remark, the most insignificant, that showed that the critic +saw even the tiniest part of what he saw in the picture, agitated +him to the depths of his soul. He always attributed to his +critics a more profound comprehension than he had himself, and +always expected from them something he did not himself see in the +picture. And often in their criticisms he fancied that he had +found this. + +He walked rapidly to the door of his studio, and in spite of his +excitement he was struck by the soft light on Anna's figure as +she stood in the shade of the entrance listening to +Golenishtchev, who was eagerly telling her something, while she +evidently wanted to look round at the artist. He was himself +unconscious how, as he approached them, he seized on this +impression and absorbed it, as he had the chin of the shopkeeper +who had sold him the cigars, and put it away somewhere to be +brought out when he wanted it. The visitors, not agreeably +impressed beforehand by Golenishtchev's account of the artist, +were still less so by his personal appearance. Thick-set and of +middle height, with nimble movements, with his brown hat, +olive-green coat and narrow trousers--though wide trousers had +been a long while in fashion,--most of all, with the ordinariness +of his broad face, and the combined expression of timidity and +anxiety to keep up his dignity, Mihailov made an unpleasant +impression. + +"Please step in," he said, trying to look indifferent, and going +into the passage he took a key out of his pocket and opened the +door. + + + +Chapter 11 + + +On entering the studio, Mihailov once more scanned his visitors +and noted down in his imagination Vronsky's expression too, and +especially his jaws. Although his artistic sense was unceasingly +at work collecting materials, although he felt a continually +increasing excitement as the moment of criticizing his work drew +nearer, he rapidly and subtly formed, from imperceptible signs, a +mental image of these three persons. + +That fellow (Golenishtchev) was a Russian living here. Mihailov +did not remember his surname nor where he had met him, nor what +he had said to him. He only remembered his face as he remembered +all the faces he had ever seen; but he remembered, too, that it +was one of the faces laid by in his memory in the immense class +of the falsely consequential and poor in expression. The +abundant hair and very open forehead gave an appearance of +consequence to the face, which had only one expression--a petty, +childish, peevish expression, concentrated just above the bridge +of the narrow nose. Vronsky and Madame Karenina must be, +Mihailov supposed, distinguished and wealthy Russians, knowing +nothing about art, like all those wealthy Russians, but posing as +amateurs and connoisseurs. "Most likely they've already looked +at all the antiques, and now they're making the round of the +studios of the new people, the German humbug, and the cracked +Pre-Raphaelite English fellow, and have only come to me to make +the point of view complete," he thought. He was well acquainted +with the way dilettanti have (the cleverer they were the worse he +found them) of looking at the works of contemporary artists with +the sole object of being in a position to say that art is a thing +of the past, and that the more one sees of the new men the more +one sees how inimitable the works of the great old masters have +remained. He expected all this; he saw it all in their faces, he +saw it in the careless indifference with which they talked among +themselves, stared at the lay figures and busts, and walked about +in leisurely fashion, waiting for him to uncover his picture. +But in spite of this, while he was turning over his studies, +pulling up the blinds and taking off the sheet, he was in intense +excitement, especially as, in spite of his conviction that all +distinguished and wealthy Russians were certain to be beasts and +fools, he liked Vronsky, and still more Anna. + +"Here, if you please," he said, moving on one side with his +nimble gait and pointing to his picture, "it's the exhortation to +Pilate. Matthew, chapter xxvii," he said, feeling his lips were +beginning to tremble with emotion. He moved away and stood +behind them. + +For the few seconds during which the visitors were gazing at the +picture in silence Mihailov too gazed at it with the indifferent +eye of an outsider. For those few seconds he was sure in +anticipation that a higher, juster criticism would be uttered by +them, by those very visitors whom he had been so despising a +moment before. He forgot all he had thought about his picture +before during the three years he had been painting it; he forgot +all its qualities which had been absolutely certain to him--he +saw the picture with their indifferent, new, outside eyes, and +saw nothing good in it. He saw in the foreground Pilate's +irritated face and the serene face of Christ, and in the +background the figures of Pilate's retinue and the face of John +watching what was happening. Every face that, with such agony, +such blunders and corrections had grown up within him with its +special character, every face that had given him such torments +and such raptures, and all these faces so many times transposed +for the sake of the harmony of the whole, all the shades of color +and tones that he had attained with such labor--all of this +together seemed to him now, looking at it with their eyes, the +merest vulgarity, something that had been done a thousand times +over. The face dearest to him, the face of Christ, the center of +the picture, which had given him such ecstasy as it unfolded +itself to him, was utterly lost to him when he glanced at the +picture with their eyes. He saw a well-painted (no, not even +that--he distinctly saw now a mass of defects) repetition of +those endless Christs of Titian, Raphael, Rubens, and the same +soldiers and Pilate. It was all common, poor, and stale, and +positively badly painted--weak and unequal. They would be +justified in repeating hypocritically civil speeches in the +presence of the painter, and pitying him and laughing at him when +they were alone again. + +The silence (though it lasted no more than a minute) became too +intolerable to him. To break it, and to show he was not +agitated, he made an effort and addressed Golenishtchev. + +"I think I've had the pleasure of meeting you," he said, looking +uneasily first at Anna, then at Vronsky, in fear of losing any +shade of their expression. + +"To be sure! We met at Rossi's, do you remember, at that _soiree_ +when that Italian lady recited--the new Rachel?" Golenishtchev +answered easily, removing his eyes without the slightest regret +from the picture and turning to the artist. + +Noticing, however, that Mihailov was expecting a criticism of the +picture, he said: + +"Your picture has got on a great deal since I saw it last time; +and what strikes me particularly now, as it did then, is the +figure of Pilate. One so knows the man: a good-natured, capital +fellow, but an official through and through, who does not know +what it is he's doing. But I fancy..." + +All Mihailov's mobile face beamed at once; his eyes sparkled. He +tried to say something, but he could not speak for excitement, +and pretended to be coughing. Low as was his opinion of +Golenishtchev's capacity for understanding art, trifling as was +the true remark upon the fidelity of the expression of Pilate as +an official, and offensive as might have seemed the utterance of +so unimportant an observation while nothing was said of more +serious points, Mihailov was in an ecstasy of delight at this +observation. He had himself thought about Pilate's figure just +what Golenishtchev said. The fact that this reflection was but +one of millions of reflections, which as Mihailov knew for +certain would be true, did not diminish for him the significance +of Golenishtchev's remark. His heart warmed to Golenishtchev for +this remark, and from a state of depression he suddenly passed to +ecstasy. At once the whole of his picture lived before him in +all the indescribable complexity of everything living. Mihailov +again tried to say that that was how he understood Pilate, but +his lips quivered intractably, and he could not pronounce the +words. Vronsky and Anna too said something in that subdued voice +in which, partly to avoid hurting the artist's feelings and +partly to avoid saying out loud something silly--so easily said +when talking of art--people usually speak at exhibitions of +pictures. Mihailov fancied that the picture had made an +impression on them too. He went up to them. + +"How marvelous Christ's expression is!" said Anna. Of all she +saw she liked that expression most of all, and she felt that it +was the center of the picture, and so praise of it would be +pleasant to the artist. "One can see that He is pitying Pilate." + +This again was one of the million true reflections that could be +found in his picture and in the figure of Christ. She said that +He was pitying Pilate. In Christ's expression there ought to be +indeed an expression of pity, since there is an expression of +love, of heavenly peace, of readiness for death, and a sense of +the vanity of words. Of course there is the expression of an +official in Pilate and of pity in Christ, seeing that one is the +incarnation of the fleshly and the other of the spiritual life. +All this and much more flashed into Mihailov's thoughts. + +"Yes, and how that figure is done--what atmosphere! One can walk +round it," said Golenishtchev, unmistakably betraying by this +remark that he did not approve of the meaning and idea of the +figure. + +"Yes, there's a wonderful mastery!" said Vronsky. "How those +figures in the background stand out! There you have technique," +he said, addressing Golenishtchev, alluding to a conversation +between them about Vronsky's despair of attaining this technique. + +"Yes, yes, marvelous!" Golenishtchev and Anna assented. In spite +of the excited condition in which he was, the sentence about +technique had sent a pang to Mihailov's heart, and looking +angrily at Vronsky he suddenly scowled. He had often heard this +word technique, and was utterly unable to understand what was +understood by it. He knew that by this term was understood a +mechanical facility for painting or drawing, entirely apart from +its subject. He had noticed often that even in actual praise +technique was opposed to essential quality, as though one could +paint well something that was bad. He knew that a great deal of +attention and care was necessary in taking off the coverings, to +avoid injuring the creation itself, and to take off all the +coverings; but there was no art of painting--no technique of any +sort--about it. If to a little child or to his cook were +revealed what he saw, it or she would have been able to peel the +wrappings off what was seen. And the most experienced and adroit +painter could not by mere mechanical facility paint anything if +the lines of the subject were not revealed to him first. +Besides, he saw that if it came to talking about technique, it +was impossible to praise him for it. In all he had painted and +repainted he saw faults that hurt his eyes, coming from want of +care in taking off the wrappings--faults he could not correct now +without spoiling the whole. And in almost all the figures and +faces he saw, too, remnants of the wrappings not perfectly +removed that spoiled the picture. + +"One thing might be said, if you will allow me to make the +remark..." observed Golenishtchev. + +"Oh, I shall be delighted, I beg you," said Mihailov with a +forced smile. + +"That is, that you make Him the man-god, and not the God-man. +But I know that was what you meant to do." + +"I cannot paint a Christ that is not in my heart," said Mihailov +gloomily. + +"Yes; but in that case, if you will allow me to say what I +think.... Your picture is so fine that my observation cannot +detract from it, and, besides, it is only my personal opinion. +With you it is different. Your very motive is different. But +let us take Ivanov. I imagine that if Christ is brought down to +the level of an historical character, it would have been better +for Ivanov to select some other historical subject, fresh, +untouched." + +"But if this is the greatest subject presented to art?" + +"If one looked one would find others. But the point is that art +cannot suffer doubt and discussion. And before the picture of +Ivanov the question arises for the believer and the unbeliever +alike, 'Is it God, or is it not God?' and the unity of the +impression is destroyed." + +"Why so? I think that for educated people," said Mihailov, "the +question cannot exist." + +Golenishtchev did not agree with this, and confounded Mihailov by +his support of his first idea of the unity of the impression +being essential to art. + +Mihailov was greatly perturbed, but he could say nothing in +defense of his own idea. + + + +Chapter 12 + + +Anna and Vronsky had long been exchanging glances, regretting +their friend's flow of cleverness. At last Vronsky, without +waiting for the artist, walked away to another small picture. + +"Oh, how exquisite! What a lovely thing! A gem! How +exquisite!" they cried with one voice. + +"What is it they're so pleased with?" thought Mihailov. He had +positively forgotten that picture he had painted three years ago. +He had forgotten all the agonies and the ecstasies he had lived +through with that picture when for several months it had been the +one thought haunting him day and night. He had forgotten, as he +always forgot, the pictures he had finished. He did not even +like to look at it, and had only brought it out because he was +expecting an Englishman who wanted to buy it. + +"Oh, that's only an old study," he said. + +"How fine!" said Golenishtchev, he too, with unmistakable +sincerity, falling under the spell of the picture. + +Two boys were angling in the shade of a willow-tree. The elder +had just dropped in the hook, and was carefully pulling the float +from behind a bush, entirely absorbed in what he was doing. The +other, a little younger, was lying in the grass leaning on his +elbows, with his tangled, flaxen head in his hands, staring at +the water with his dreamy blue eyes. What was he thinking of? + +The enthusiasm over this picture stirred some of the old feeling +for it in Mihailov, but he feared and disliked this waste of +feeling for things past, and so, even though this praise was +grateful to him, he tried to draw his visitors away to a third +picture. + +But Vronsky asked whether the picture was for sale. To Mihailov +at that moment, excited by visitors, it was extremely distasteful +to speak of money matters. + +"It is put up there to be sold," he answered, scowling gloomily. + +When the visitors had gone, Mihailov sat down opposite the +picture of Pilate and Christ, and in his mind went over what had +been said, and what, though not said, had been implied by those +visitors. And, strange to say, what had had such weight with +him, while they were there and while he mentally put himself at +their point of view, suddenly lost all importance for him. He +began to look at his picture with all his own full artist vision, +and was soon in that mood of conviction of the perfectibility, +and so of the significance, of his picture--a conviction +essential to the most intense fervor, excluding all other +interests--in which alone he could work. + +Christ's foreshortened leg was not right, though. He took his +palette and began to work. As he corrected the leg he looked +continually at the figure of John in the background, which his +visitors had not even noticed, but which he knew was beyond +perfection. When he had finished the leg he wanted to touch that +figure, but he felt too much excited for it. He was equally +unable to work when he was cold and when he was too much affected +and saw everything too much. There was only one stage in the +transition from coldness to inspiration, at which work was +possible. Today he was too much agitated. He would have covered +the picture, but he stopped, holding the cloth in his hand, and, +smiling blissfully, gazed a long while at the figure of John. At +last, as it were regretfully tearing himself away, he dropped the +cloth, and, exhausted but happy, went home. + +Vronsky, Anna, and Golenishtchev, on their way home, were +particularly lively and cheerful. They talked of Mihailov and +his pictures. The word _talent_, by which they meant an inborn, +almost physical, aptitude apart from brain and heart, and in +which they tried to find an expression for all the artist had +gained from life, recurred particularly often in their talk, as +though it were necessary for them to sum up what they had no +conception of, though they wanted to talk of it. They said that +there was no denying his talent, but that his talent could not +develop for want of education--the common defect of our Russian +artists. But the picture of the boys had imprinted itself on +their memories, and they were continually coming back to it. +"What an exquisite thing! How he has succeeded in it, and how +simply! He doesn't even comprehend how good it is. Yes, I +mustn't let it slip; I must buy it," said Vronsky. + + + +Chapter 13 + + +Mihailov sold Vronsky his picture, and agreed to paint a +portrait of Anna. On the day fixed he came and began the work. + +From the fifth sitting the portrait impressed everyone, +especially Vronsky, not only by its resemblance, but by its +characteristic beauty. It was strange how Mihailov could have +discovered just her characteristic beauty. "One needs to know +and love her as I have loved her to discover the very sweetest +expression of her soul," Vronsky thought, though it was only from +this portrait that he had himself learned this sweetest +expression of her soul. But the expression was so true that he, +and others too, fancied they had long known it. + +"I have been struggling on for ever so long without doing +anything," he said of his own portrait of her, "and he just +looked and painted it. That's where technique comes in." + +"That will come," was the consoling reassurance given him by +Golenishtchev, in whose view Vronsky had both talent, and what +was most important, culture, giving him a wider outlook on art. +Golenishtchev's faith in Vronsky's talent was propped up by his +own need of Vronsky's sympathy and approval for his own articles +and ideas, and he felt that the praise and support must be +mutual. + +In another man's house, and especially in Vronsky's palazzo, +Mihailov was quite a different man from what he was in his +studio. He behaved with hostile courtesy, as though he were +afraid of coming closer to people he did not respect. He called +Vronsky "your excellency," and notwithstanding Anna's and +Vronsky's invitations, he would never stay to dinner, nor come +except for the sittings. Anna was even more friendly to him than +to other people, and was very grateful for her portrait. Vronsky +was more than cordial with him, and was obviously interested to +know the artist's opinion of his picture. Golenishtchev never +let slip an opportunity of instilling sound ideas about art into +Mihailov. But Mihailov remained equally chilly to all of them. +Anna was aware from his eyes that he liked looking at her, but he +avoided conversation with her. Vronsky's talk about his painting +he met with stubborn silence, and he was as stubbornly silent +when he was shown Vronsky's picture. He was unmistakably bored +by Golenishtchev's conversation, and he did not attempt to oppose +him. + +Altogether Mihailov, with his reserved and disagreeable, as it +were, hostile attitude, was quite disliked by them as they got to +know him better; and they were glad when the sittings were over, +and they were left with a magnificent portrait in their +possession, and he gave up coming. Golenishtchev was the first +to give expression to an idea that had occurred to all of them, +which was that Mihailov was simply jealous of Vronsky. + +"Not envious, let us say, since he has _talent_; but it annoys him +that a wealthy man of the highest society, and a count, too (you +know they all detest a title), can, without any particular +trouble, do as well, if not better, than he who has devoted all +his life to it. And more than all, it's a question of culture, +which he is without." + +Vronsky defended Mihailov, but at the bottom of his heart he +believed it, because in his view a man of a different, lower +world would be sure to be envious. + +Anna's portrait--the same subject painted from nature both by him +and by Mihailov--ought to have shown Vronsky the difference +between him and Mihailov; but he did not see it. Only after +Mihailov's portrait was painted he left off painting his portrait +of Anna, deciding that it was now not needed. His picture of +mediaeval life he went on with. And he himself, and +Golenishtchev, and still more Anna, thought it very good, because +it was far more like the celebrated pictures they knew than +Mihailov's picture. + +Mihailov meanwhile, although Anna's portrait greatly fascinated +him, was even more glad than they were when the sittings were +over, and he had no longer to listen to Golenishtchev's +disquisitions upon art, and could forget about Vronsky's +painting. He knew that Vronsky could not be prevented from +amusing himself with painting; he knew that he and all dilettanti +had a perfect right to paint what they liked, but it was +distasteful to him. A man could not be prevented from making +himself a big wax doll, and kissing it. But if the man were to +come with the doll and sit before a man in love, and begin +caressing his doll as the lover caressed the woman he loved, it +would be distasteful to the lover. Just such a distasteful +sensation was what Mihailov felt at the sight of Vronsky's +painting: he felt it both ludicrous and irritating, both pitiable +and offensive. + +Vronsky's interest in painting and the Middle Ages did not last +long. He had enough taste for painting to be unable to finish +his picture. The picture came to a standstill. He was vaguely +aware that its defects, inconspicuous at first, would be glaring +if he were to go on with it. The same experience befell him as +Golenishtchev, who felt that he had nothing to say, and +continually deceived himself with the theory that his idea was +not yet mature, that he was working it out and collecting +materials. This exasperated and tortured Golenishtchev, but +Vronsky was incapable of deceiving and torturing himself, and +even more incapable of exasperation. With his characteristic +decision, without explanation or apology, he simply ceased +working at painting. + +But without this occupation, the life of Vronsky and of Anna, who +wondered at his loss of interest in it, struck them as +intolerably tedious in an Italian town. The palazzo suddenly +seemed so obtrusively old and dirty, the spots on the curtains, +the cracks in the floors, the broken plaster on the cornices +became so disagreeably obvious, and the everlasting sameness of +Golenishtchev, and the Italian professor and the German traveler +became so wearisome, that they had to make some change. They +resolved to go to Russia, to the country. In Petersburg Vronsky +intended to arrange a partition of the land with his brother, +while Anna meant to see her son. The summer they intended to +spend on Vronsky's great family estate. + + + +Chapter 14 + + +Levin had been married three months. He was happy, but not at +all in the way he had expected to be. At every step he found his +former dreams disappointed, and new, unexpected surprises of +happiness. He was happy; but on entering upon family life he saw +at every step that it was utterly different from what he had +imagined. At every step he experienced what a man would +experience who, after admiring the smooth, happy course of a +little boat on a lake, should get himself into that little boat. +He saw that it was not all sitting still, floating smoothly; that +one had to think too, not for an instant to forget where one was +floating; and that there was water under one, and that one must +row; and that his unaccustomed hands would be sore; and that it +was only to look at it that was easy; but that doing it, though +very delightful, was very difficult. + +As a bachelor, when he had watched other people's married life, +seen the petty cares, the squabbles, the jealousy, he had only +smiled contemptuously in his heart. In his future married life +there could be, he was convinced, nothing of that sort; even the +external forms, indeed, he fancied, must be utterly unlike the +life of others in everything. And all of a sudden, instead of +his life with his wife being made on an individual pattern, it +was, on the contrary, entirely made up of the pettiest details, +which he had so despised before, but which now, by no will of his +own, had gained an extraordinary importance that it was useless +to contend against. And Levin saw that the organization of all +these details was by no means so easy as he had fancied before. +Although Levin believed himself to have the most exact +conceptions of domestic life, unconsciously, like all men, he +pictured domestic life as the happiest enjoyment of love, with +nothing to hinder and no petty cares to distract. He ought, as +he conceived the position, to do his work, and to find repose +from it in the happiness of love. She ought to be beloved, and +nothing more. But, like all men, he forgot that she too would +want work. And he was surprised that she, his poetic, exquisite +Kitty, could, not merely in the first weeks, but even in the +first days of their married life, think, remember, and busy +herself about tablecloths, and furniture, about mattresses for +visitors, about a tray, about the cook, and the dinner, and so +on. While they were still engaged, he had been struck by the +definiteness with which she had declined the tour abroad and +decided to go into the country, as though she knew of something +she wanted, and could still think of something outside her love. +This had jarred upon him then, and now her trivial cares and +anxieties jarred upon him several times. But he saw that this +was essential for her. And, loving her as he did, though he did +not understand the reason of them, and jeered at these domestic +pursuits, he could not help admiring them. He jeered at the way +in which she arranged the furniture they had brought from Moscow; +rearranged their room; hung up curtains; prepared rooms for +visitors; a room for Dolly; saw after an abode for her new maid; +ordered dinner of the old cook; came into collision with Agafea +Mihalovna, taking from her the charge of the stores. He saw how +the old cook smiled, admiring her, and listening to her +inexperienced, impossible orders, how mournfully and tenderly +Agafea Mihalovna shook her head over the young mistress's new +arrangements. He saw that Kitty was extraordinarily sweet when, +laughing and crying, she came to tell him that her maid, Masha, +was used to looking upon her as her young lady, and so no one +obeyed her. It seemed to him sweet, but strange, and he thought +it would have been better without this. + +He did not know how great a sense of change she was experiencing; +she, who at home had sometimes wanted some favorite dish, or +sweets, without the possibility of getting either, now could +order what she liked, buy pounds of sweets, spend as much money +as she liked, and order any puddings she pleased. + +She was dreaming with delight now of Dolly's coming to them with +her children, especially because she would order for the children +their favorite puddings and Dolly would appreciate all her new +housekeeping. She did not know herself why and wherefore, but +the arranging of her house had an irresistible attraction for +her. Instinctively feeling the approach of spring, and knowing +that there would be days of rough weather too, she built her nest +as best she could, and was in haste at the same time to build it +and to learn how to do it. + +This care for domestic details in Kitty, so opposed to Levin's +ideal of exalted happiness, was at first one of the +disappointments; and this sweet care of her household, the aim of +which he did not understand, but could not help loving, was one +of the new happy surprises. + +Another disappointment and happy surprise came in their quarrels. +Levin could never have conceived that between him and his wife +any relations could arise other than tender, respectful and +loving, and all at once in the very early days they quarreled, so +that she said he did not care for her, that he cared for no one +but himself, burst into tears, and wrung her arms. + +This first quarrel arose from Levin's having gone out to a new +farmhouse and having been away half an hour too long, because he +had tried to get home by a short cut and had lost his way. He +drove home thinking of nothing but her, of her love, of his own +happiness, and the nearer he drew to home, the warmer was his +tenderness for her. He ran into the room with the same feeling, +with an even stronger feeling than he had had when he reached the +Shtcherbatskys' house to make his offer. And suddenly he was met +by a lowering expression he had never seen in her. He would have +kissed her; she pushed him away. + +"What is it?" + +"You've been enjoying yourself," she began, trying to be calm and +spiteful. But as soon as she opened her mouth, a stream of +reproach, of senseless jealousy, of all that had been torturing +her during that half hour which she had spent sitting motionless +at the window, burst from her. It was only then, for the first +time, that he clearly understood what he had not understood when +he led her out of the church after the wedding. He felt now that +he was not simply close to her, but that he did not know where he +ended and she began. He felt this from the agonizing sensation +of division that he experienced at that instant. He was offended +for the first instant, but the very same second he felt that he +could not be offended by her, that she was himself. He felt for +the first moment as a man feels when, having suddenly received a +violent blow from behind, he turns round, angry and eager to +avenge himself, to look for his antagonist, and finds that it is +he himself who has accidentally struck himself, that there is no +one to be angry with, and that he must put up with and try to +soothe the pain. + +Never afterwards did he feel it with such intensity, but this +first time he could not for a long while get over it. His +natural feeling urged him to defend himself, to prove to her she +was wrong; but to prove her wrong would mean irritating her still +more and making the rupture greater that was the cause of all his +suffering. One habitual feeling impelled him to get rid of the +blame and to pass it on to her. Another feeling, even stronger, +impelled him as quickly as possible to smooth over the rupture +without letting it grow greater. To remain under such undeserved +reproach was wretched, but to make her suffer by justifying +himself was worse still. Like a man half-awake in an agony of +pain, he wanted to tear out, to fling away the aching place, and +coming to his senses, he felt that the aching place was himself. +He could do nothing but try to help the aching place to bear it, +and this he tried to do. + +They made peace. She, recognizing that she was wrong, though she +did not say so, became tenderer to him, and they experienced new, +redoubled happiness in their love. But that did not prevent such +quarrels from happening again, and exceedingly often too, on the +most unexpected and trivial grounds. These quarrels frequently +arose from the fact that they did not yet know what was of +importance to each other and that all this early period they were +both often in a bad temper. When one was in a good temper, and +the other in a bad temper, the peace was not broken; but when +both happened to be in an ill-humor, quarrels sprang up from such +incomprehensibly trifling causes, that they could never remember +afterwards what they had quarreled about. It is true that when +they were both in a good temper their enjoyment of life was +redoubled. But still this first period of their married life was +a difficult time for them. + +During all this early time they had a peculiarly vivid sense of +tension, as it were, a tugging in opposite directions of the +chain by which they were bound. Altogether their honeymoon--that +is to say, the month after their wedding--from which from +tradition Levin expected so much, was not merely not a time of +sweetness, but remained in the memories of both as the bitterest +and most humiliating period in their lives. They both alike +tried in later life to blot out from their memories all the +monstrous, shameful incidents of that morbid period, when both +were rarely in a normal frame of mind, both were rarely quite +themselves. + +It was only in the third month of their married life, after their +return from Moscow, where they had been staying for a month, that +their life began to go more smoothly. + + + +Chapter 15 + + +They had just come back from Moscow, and were glad to be alone. +He was sitting at the writing table in his study, writing. She, +wearing the dark lilac dress she had worn during the first days +of their married life, and put on again today, a dress +particularly remembered and loved by him, was sitting on the +sofa, the same old-fashioned leather sofa which had always stood +in the study in Levin's father's and grandfather's days. She was +sewing at _broderie anglaise_. He thought and wrote, never losing +the happy consciousness of her presence. His work, both on the +land and on the book, in which the principles of the new land +system were to be laid down, had not been abandoned; but just as +formerly these pursuits and ideas had seemed to him petty and +trivial in comparison with the darkness that overspread all life, +now they seemed as unimportant and petty in comparison with the +life that lay before him suffused with the brilliant light of +happiness. He went on with his work, but he felt now that the +center of gravity of his attention had passed to something else, +and that consequently he looked at his work quite differently and +more clearly. Formerly this work had been for him an escape from +life. Formerly he had felt that without this work his life would +be too gloomy. Now these pursuits were necessary for him that +life might not be too uniformly bright. Taking up his +manuscript, reading through what he had written, he found with +pleasure that the work was worth his working at. Many of his old +ideas seemed to him superfluous and extreme, but many blanks +became distinct to him when he reviewed the whole thing in his +memory. He was writing now a new chapter on the causes of the +present disastrous condition of agriculture in Russia. He +maintained that the poverty of Russia arises not merely from the +anomalous distribution of landed property and misdirected +reforms, but that what had contributed of late years to this +result was the civilization from without abnormally grafted upon +Russia, especially facilities of communication, as railways, +leading to centralization in towns, the development of luxury, +and the consequent development of manufactures, credit and its +accompaniment of speculation--all to the detriment of +agriculture. It seemed to him that in a normal development of +wealth in a state all these phenomena would arise only when a +considerable amount of labor had been put into agriculture, when +it had come under regular, or at least definite, conditions; that +the wealth of a country ought to increase proportionally, and +especially in such a way that other sources of wealth should not +outstrip agriculture; that in harmony with a certain stage of +agriculture there should be means of communication corresponding +to it, and that in our unsettled condition of the land, railways, +called into being by political and not by economic needs, were +premature, and instead of promoting agriculture, as was expected +of them, they were competing with agriculture and promoting the +development of manufactures and credit, and so arresting its +progress; and that just as the one-sided and premature +development of one organ in an animal would hinder its general +development, so in the general development of wealth in Russia, +credit, facilities of communication, manufacturing activity, +indubitably necessary in Europe, where they had arisen in their +proper time, had with us only done harm, by throwing into the +background the chief question calling for settlement--the +question of the organization of agriculture. + +While he was writing his ideas she was thinking how unnaturally +cordial her husband had been to young Prince Tcharsky, who had, +with great want of tact, flirted with her the day before they +left Moscow. "He's jealous," she thought. "Goodness! how sweet +and silly he is! He's jealous of me! If he knew that I think no +more of them than of Piotr the cook," she thought, looking at his +head and red neck with a feeling of possession strange to +herself. "Though it's a pity to take him from his work (but he +has plenty of time!), I must look at his face; will he feel I'm +looking at him? I wish he'd turn round...I'll _will_ him to!" +and she opened her eyes wide, as though to intensify the +influence of her gaze. + +"Yes, they draw away all the sap and give a false appearance of +prosperity," he muttered, stopping to write, and, feeling that +she was looking at him and smiling, he looked round. + +"Well?" he queried, smiling, and getting up. + +"He looked round," she thought. + +"It's nothing; I wanted you to look round," she said, watching +him, and trying to guess whether he was vexed at being +interrupted or not. + +"How happy we are alone together!--I am, that is," he said, +going up to her with a radiant smile of happiness. + +"I'm just as happy. I'll never go anywhere, especially not to +Moscow." + +"And what were you thinking about?" + +"I? I was thinking.... No, no, go along, go on writing; don't +break off," she said, pursing up her lips, "and I must cut out +these little holes now, do you see?" + +She took up her scissors and began cutting them out. + +"No; tell me, what was it?" he said, sitting down beside her and +watching the tiny scissors moving round. + +"Oh! what was I thinking about? I was thinking about Moscow, +about the back of your head." + +"Why should I, of all people, have such happiness! It's +unnatural, too good," he said, kissing her hand. + +"I feel quite the opposite; the better things are, the more +natural it seems to me." + +"And you've got a little curl loose," he said, carefully turning +her head round. + +"A little curl, oh yes. No, no, we are busy at our work!" + +Work did not progress further, and they darted apart from one +another like culprits when Kouzma came in to announce that tea +was ready. + +"Have they come from the town?" Levin asked Kouzma. + +"They've just come; they're unpacking the things." + +"Come quickly," she said to him as she went out of the study, "or +else I shall read your letters without you." + +Left alone, after putting his manuscripts together in the new +portfolio bought by her, he washed his hands at the new washstand +with the elegant fittings, that had all made their appearance +with her. Levin smiled at his own thoughts, and shook his head +disapprovingly at those thoughts; a feeling akin to remorse +fretted him. There was something shameful, effeminate, Capuan, +as he called it to himself, in his present mode of life. "It's +not right to go on like this," he thought. "It'll soon be three +months, and I'm doing next to nothing. Today, almost for the +first time, I set to work seriously, and what happened? I did +nothing but begin and throw it aside. Even my ordinary pursuits +I have almost given up. On the land I scarcely walk or drive +about at all to look after things. Either I am loath to leave +her, or I see she's dull alone. And I used to think that, before +marriage, life was nothing much, somehow didn't count, but that +after marriage, life began in earnest. And here almost three +months have passed, and I have spent my time so idly and +unprofitably. No, this won't do; I must begin. Of course, it's +not her fault. She's not to blame in any way. I ought myself to +be firmer, to maintain my masculine independence of action; or +else I shall get into such ways, and she'll get used to them +too.... Of course she's not to blame," he told himself. + +But it is hard for anyone who is dissatisfied not to blame +someone else, and especially the person nearest of all to him, +for the ground of his dissatisfaction. And it vaguely came into +Levin's mind that she herself was not to blame (she could not be +to blame for anything), but what was to blame was her education, +too superficial and frivolous. ("That fool Tcharsky: she wanted, +I know, to stop him, but didn't know how to.") "Yes, apart from +her interest in the house (that she has), apart from dress and +_broderie anglaise_, she has no serious interests. No interest in +her work, in the estate, in the peasants, nor in music, though +she's rather good at it, nor in reading. She does nothing, and +is perfectly satisfied." Levin, in his heart, censured this, and +did not as yet understand that she was preparing for that period +of activity which was to come for her when she would at once be +the wife of her husband and mistress of the house, and would +bear, and nurse, and bring up children. He knew not that she was +instinctively aware of this, and preparing herself for this time +of terrible toil, did not reproach herself for the moments of +carelessness and happiness in her love that she enjoyed now while +gaily building her nest for the future. + + + +Chapter 16 + + +When Levin went upstairs, his wife was sitting near the new +silver samovar behind the new tea service, and, having settled +old Agafea Mihalovna at a little table with a full cup of tea, +was reading a letter from Dolly, with whom they were in continual +and frequent correspondence. + +"You see, your good lady's settled me here, told me to sit a bit +with her," said Agafea Mihalovna, smiling affectionately at +Kitty. + +In these words of Agafea Mihalovna, Levin read the final act of +the drama which had been enacted of late between her and Kitty. +He saw that, in spite of Agafea Mihalovna's feelings being hurt +by a new mistress taking the reins of government out of her +hands, Kitty had yet conquered her and made her love her. + +"Here, I opened your letter too," said Kitty, handing him an +illiterate letter. "It's from that woman, I think, your +brother's..." she said. "I did not read it through. This is +from my people and from Dolly. Fancy! Dolly took Tanya and +Grisha to a children's ball at the Sarmatskys': Tanya was a +French marquise." + +But Levin did not hear her. Flushing, he took the letter from +Marya Nikolaevna, his brother's former mistress, and began to +read it. This was the second letter he had received from Marya +Nikolaevna. In the first letter, Marya Nikolaevna wrote that his +brother had sent her away for no fault of hers, and, with +touching simplicity, added that though she was in want again, she +asked for nothing, and wished for nothing, but was only tormented +by the thought that Nikolay Dmitrievitch would come to grief +without her, owing to the weak state of his health, and begged +his brother to look after him. Now she wrote quite differently. +She had found Nikolay Dmitrievitch, had again made it up with him +in Moscow, and had moved with him to a provincial town, where he +had received a post in the government service. But that he had +quarreled with the head official, and was on his way back to +Moscow, only he had been taken so ill on the road that it was +doubtful if he would ever leave his bed again, she wrote. "It's +always of you he has talked, and, besides, he has no more money +left." + +"Read this; Dolly writes about you," Kitty was beginning, with a +smile; but she stopped suddenly, noticing the changed expression +on her husband's face. + +"What is it? What's the matter?" + +"She writes to me that Nikolay, my brother, is at death's door. +I shall go to him." + +Kitty's face changed at once. Thoughts of Tanya as a marquise, +of Dolly, all had vanished. + +"When are you going?" she said. + +"Tomorrow." + +"And I will go with you, can I?" she said. + +"Kitty! What are you thinking of?" he said reproachfully. + +"How do you mean?" offended that he should seem to take her +suggestion unwillingly and with vexation. "Why shouldn't I go? +I shan't be in your way. I..." + +"I'm going because my brother is dying," said Levin. "Why should +you..." + +"Why? For the same reason as you." + +"And, at a moment of such gravity for me, she only thinks of her +being dull by herself," thought Levin. And this lack of candor +in a matter of such gravity infuriated him. + +"It's out of the question," he said sternly. + +Agafea Mihalovna, seeing that it was coming to a quarrel, gently +put down her cup and withdrew. Kitty did not even notice her. +The tone in which her husband had said the last words wounded +her, especially because he evidently did not believe what she had +said. + +"I tell you, that if you go, I shall come with you; I shall +certainly come," she said hastily and wrathfully. "Why out of +the question? Why do you say it's out of the question?" + +"Because it'll be going God knows where, by all sorts of roads +and to all sorts of hotels. You would be a hindrance to me," +said Levin, trying to be cool. + +"Not at all. I don't want anything. Where you can go, I +can...." + +"Well, for one thing then, because this woman's there whom you +can't meet." + +"I don't know and don't care to know who's there and what. I +know that my husband's brother is dying and my husband is going +to him, and I go with my husband too...." + +"Kitty! Don't get angry. But just think a little: this is a +matter of such importance that I can't bear to think that you +should bring in a feeling of weakness, of dislike to being left +alone. Come, you'll be dull alone, so go and stay at Moscow a +little." + +"There, you always ascribe base, vile motives to me," she said +with tears of wounded pride and fury. "I didn't mean, it wasn't +weakness, it wasn't...I feel that it's my duty to be with my +husband when he's in trouble, but you try on purpose to hurt me, +you try on purpose not to understand...." + +"No; this is awful! To be such a slave!" cried Levin, getting +up, and unable to restrain his anger any longer. But at the same +second he felt that he was beating himself. + +"Then why did you marry? You could have been free. Why did you, +if you regret it?" she said, getting up and running away into the +drawing room. + +When he went to her, she was sobbing. + +He began to speak, trying to find words not to dissuade but +simply to soothe her. But she did not heed him, and would not +agree to anything. He bent down to her and took her hand, which +resisted him. He kissed her hand, kissed her hair, kissed her +hand again--still she was silent. But when he took her face in +both his hands and said "Kitty!" she suddenly recovered herself, +and began to cry, and they were reconciled. + +It was decided that they should go together the next day. Levin +told his wife that he believed she wanted to go simply in order +to be of use, agreed that Marya Nikolaevna's being with his +brother did not make her going improper, but he set off at the +bottom of his heart dissatisfied both with her and with himself. +He was dissatisfied with her for being unable to make up her mind +to let him go when it was necessary (and how strange it was for +him to think that he, so lately hardly daring to believe in such +happiness as that she could love him--now was unhappy because she +loved him too much!), and he was dissatisfied with himself for +not showing more strength of will. Even greater was the feeling +of disagreement at the bottom of his heart as to her not needing +to consider the woman who was with his brother, and he thought +with horror of all the contingencies they might meet with. The +mere idea of his wife, his Kitty, being in the same room with a +common wench, set him shuddering with horror and loathing. + + + +Chapter 17 + + +The hotel of the provincial town where Nikolay Levin was lying +ill was one of those provincial hotels which are constructed on +the newest model of modern improvements, with the best intentions +of cleanliness, comfort, and even elegance, but owing to the +public that patronizes them, are with astounding rapidity +transformed into filthy taverns with a pretension of modern +improvement that only makes them worse than the old-fashioned, +honestly filthy hotels. This hotel had already reached that +stage, and the soldier in a filthy uniform smoking in the entry, +supposed to stand for a hall-porter, and the cast-iron, slippery, +dark, and disagreeable staircase, and the free and easy waiter in +a filthy frock coat, and the common dining room with a dusty +bouquet of wax flowers adorning the table, and filth, dust, and +disorder everywhere, and at the same time the sort of modern +up-to-date self-complacent railway uneasiness of this hotel, +aroused a most painful feeling in Levin after their fresh young +life, especially because the impression of falsity made by the +hotel was so out of keeping with what awaited them. + +As is invariably the case, after they had been asked at what +price they wanted rooms, it appeared that there was not one +decent room for them; one decent room had been taken by the +inspector of railroads, another by a lawyer from Moscow, a third +by Princess Astafieva from the country. There remained only one +filthy room, next to which they promised that another should be +empty by the evening. Feeling angry with his wife because what +he had expected had come to pass, which was that at the moment of +arrival, when his heart throbbed with emotion and anxiety to know +how his brother was getting on, he should have to be seeing after +her, instead of rushing straight to his brother, Levin conducted +her to the room assigned them. + +"Go, do go!" she said, looking at him with timid and guilty eyes. + +He went out of the door without a word, and at once stumbled over +Marya Nikolaevna, who had heard of his arrival and had not dared +to go in to see him. She was just the same as when he saw her in +Moscow; the same woolen gown, and bare arms and neck, and the +same good-naturedly stupid, pockmarked face, only a little +plumper. + +"Well, how is he? how is he?" + +"Very bad. He can't get up. He has kept expecting you. He.... +Are you...with your wife?" + +Levin did not for the first moment understand what it was +confused her, but she immediately enlightened him. + +"I'll go away. I'll go down to the kitchen," she brought out. +"Nikolay Dmitrievitch will be delighted. He heard about it, and +knows your lady, and remembers her abroad." + +Levin realized that she meant his wife, and did not know what +answer to make. + +"Come along, come along to him!" he said. + +But as soon as he moved, the door of his room opened and Kitty +peeped out. Levin crimsoned both from shame and anger with his +wife, who had put herself and him in such a difficult position; +but Marya Nikolaevna crimsoned still more. She positively shrank +together and flushed to the point of tears, and clutching the +ends of her apron in both hands, twisted them in her red fingers +without knowing what to say and what to do. + +For the first instant Levin saw an expression of eager curiosity +in the eyes with which Kitty looked at this awful woman, so +incomprehensible to her; but it lasted only a single instant. + +"Well! how is he?" she turned to her husband and then to her. + +"But one can't go on talking in the passage like this!" Levin +said, looking angrily at a gentleman who walked jauntily at that +instant across the corridor, as though about his affairs. + +"Well then, come in," said Kitty, turning to Marya Nikolaevna, +who had recovered herself, but noticing her husband's face of +dismay, "or go on; go, and then come for me," she said, and went +back into the room. + +Levin went to his brother's room. He had not in the least +expected what he saw and felt in his brother's room. He had +expected to find him in the same state of self-deception which he +had heard was so frequent with the consumptive, and which had +struck him so much during his brother's visit in the autumn. He +had expected to find the physical signs of the approach of death +more marked--greater weakness, greater emaciation, but still +almost the same condition of things. He had expected himself to +feel the same distress at the loss of the brother he loved and +the same horror in face of death as he had felt then, only in a +greater degree. And he had prepared himself for this; but he +found something utterly different. + +In a little dirty room with the painted panels of its walls +filthy with spittle, and conversation audible through the thin +partition from the next room, in a stifling atmosphere saturated +with impurities, on a bedstead moved away from the wall, there +lay covered with a quilt, a body. One arm of this body was above +the quilt, and the wrist, huge as a rake-handle, was attached, +inconceivably it seemed, to the thin, long bone of the arm smooth +from the beginning to the middle. The head lay sideways on the +pillow. Levin could see the scanty locks wet with sweat on the +temples and tense, transparent-looking forehead. + +"It cannot be that that fearful body was my brother Nikolay?" +thought Levin. But he went closer, saw the face, and doubt +became impossible. In spite of the terrible change in the face, +Levin had only to glance at those eager eyes raised at his +approach, only to catch the faint movement of the mouth under the +sticky mustache, to realize the terrible truth that this +death-like body was his living brother. + +The glittering eyes looked sternly and reproachfully at his +brother as he drew near. And immediately this glance established +a living relationship between living men. Levin immediately felt +the reproach in the eyes fixed on him, and felt remorse at his +own happiness. + +When Konstantin took him by the hand, Nikolay smiled. The smile +was faint, scarcely perceptible, and in spite of the smile the +stern expression of the eyes was unchanged. + +"You did not expect to find me like this," he articulated with +effort. + +"Yes...no," said Levin, hesitating over his words. "How was +it you didn't let me know before, that is, at the time of my +wedding? I made inquiries in all directions." + +He had to talk so as not to be silent, and he did not know what +to say, especially as his brother made no reply, and simply +stared without dropping his eyes, and evidently penetrated to the +inner meaning of each word. Levin told his brother that his wife +had come with him. Nikolay expressed pleasure, but said he was +afraid of frightening her by his condition. A silence followed. +Suddenly Nikolay stirred, and began to say something. Levin +expected something of peculiar gravity and importance from the +expression of his face, but Nikolay began speaking of his health. +He found fault with the doctor, regretting he had not a +celebrated Moscow doctor. Levin saw that he still hoped. + +Seizing the first moment of silence, Levin got up, anxious to +escape, if only for an instant, from his agonizing emotion, and +said that he would go and fetch his wife. + +"Very well, and I'll tell her to tidy up here. It's dirty and +stinking here, I expect. Marya! clear up the room," the sick +man said with effort. "Oh, and when you've cleared up, go away +yourself," he added, looking inquiringly at his brother. + +Levin made no answer. Going out into the corridor, he stopped +short. He had said he would fetch his wife, but now, taking +stock of the emotion he was feeling, he decided that he would try +on the contrary to persuade her not to go in to the sick man. +"Why should she suffer as I am suffering?" he thought. + +"Well, how is he?" Kitty asked with a frightened face. + +"Oh, it's awful, it's awful! What did you come for?" said Levin. + +Kitty was silent for a few seconds, looking timidly and ruefully +at her husband; then she went up and took him by the elbow with +both hands. + +"Kostya! take me to him; it will be easier for us to bear it +together. You only take me, take me to him, please, and go +away," she said. "You must understand that for me to see you, +and not to see him, is far more painful. There I might be a help +to you and to him. Please, let me!" she besought her husband, as +though the happiness of her life depended on it. + +Levin was obliged to agree, and regaining his composure, and +completely forgetting about Marya Nikolaevna by now, he went +again in to his brother with Kitty. + +Stepping lightly, and continually glancing at her husband, +showing him a valorous and sympathetic face, Kitty went into the +sick-room, and, turning without haste, noiselessly closed the +door. With inaudible steps she went quickly to the sick man's +bedside, and going up so that he had not to turn his head, she +immediately clasped in her fresh young hand the skeleton of his +huge hand, pressed it, and began speaking with that soft +eagerness, sympathetic and not jarring, which is peculiar to +women. + +"We have met, though we were not acquainted, at Soden," she said. +"You never thought I was to be your sister?" + +"You would not have recognized me?" he said, with a radiant smile +at her entrance. + +"Yes, I should. What a good thing you let us know! Not a day +has passed that Kostya has not mentioned you, and been anxious." + +But the sick man's interest did not last long. + +Before she had finished speaking, there had come back into his +face the stern, reproachful expression of the dying man's envy of +the living. + +"I am afraid you are not quite comfortable here," she said, +turning away from his fixed stare, and looking about the room. +"We must ask about another room," she said to her husband, "so +that we might be nearer." + + + +Chapter 18 + + +Levin could not look calmly at his brother; he could not himself +be natural and calm in his presence. When he went in to the sick +man, his eyes and his attention were unconsciously dimmed, and he +did not see and did not distinguish the details of his brother's +position. He smelt the awful odor, saw the dirt, disorder, and +miserable condition, and heard the groans, and felt that nothing +could be done to help. It never entered his head to analyze the +details of the sick man's situation, to consider how that body +was lying under the quilt, how those emaciated legs and thighs +and spine were lying huddled up, and whether they could not be +made more comfortable, whether anything could not be done to make +things, if not better, at least less bad. It made his blood run +cold when he began to think of all these details. He was +absolutely convinced that nothing could be done to prolong his +brother's life or to relieve his suffering. But a sense of his +regarding all aid as out of the question was felt by the sick +man, and exasperated him. And this made it still more painful +for Levin. To be in the sick-room was agony to him, not to be +there still worse. And he was continually, on various pretexts, +going out of the room, and coming in again, because he was unable +to remain alone. + +But Kitty thought, and felt, and acted quite differently. On +seeing the sick man, she pitied him. And pity in her womanly +heart did not arouse at all that feeling of horror and loathing +that it aroused in her husband, but a desire to act, to find out +all the details of his state, and to remedy them. And since she +had not the slightest doubt that it was her duty to help him, she +had no doubt either that it was possible, and immediately set to +work. The very details, the mere thought of which reduced her +husband to terror, immediately engaged her attention. She sent +for the doctor, sent to the chemist's, set the maid who had come +with her and Marya Nikolaevna to sweep and dust and scrub; she +herself washed up something, washed out something else, laid +something under the quilt. Something was by her directions +brought into the sick-room, something else was carried out. She +herself went several times to her room, regardless of the men she +met in the corridor, got out and brought in sheets, pillow cases, +towels, and shirts. + +The waiter, who was busy with a party of engineers dining in the +dining hall, came several times with an irate countenance in +answer to her summons, and could not avoid carrying out her +orders, as she gave them with such gracious insistence that there +was no evading her. Levin did not approve of all this; he did +not believe it would be of any good to the patient. Above all, +he feared the patient would be angry at it. But the sick man, +though he seemed and was indifferent about it, was not angry, but +only abashed, and on the whole as it were interested in what she +was doing with him. Coming back from the doctor to whom Kitty +had sent him, Levin, on opening the door, came upon the sick man +at the instant when, by Kitty's directions, they were changing +his linen. The long white ridge of his spine, with the huge, +prominent shoulder blades and jutting ribs and vertebrae, was +bare, and Marya Nikolaevna and the waiter were struggling with +the sleeve of the night shirt, and could not get the long, limp +arm into it. Kitty, hurriedly closing the door after Levin, was +not looking that way; but the sick man groaned, and she moved +rapidly towards him. + +"Make haste," she said. + +"Oh, don't you come," said the sick man angrily. "I'll do it my +myself...." + +"What say?" queried Marya Nikolaevna. But Kitty heard and saw he +was ashamed and uncomfortable at being naked before her. + +"I'm not looking, I'm not looking!" she said, putting the arm in. +"Marya Nikolaevna, you come this side, you do it," she added. + +"Please go for me, there's a little bottle in my small bag," she +said, turning to her husband, "you know, in the side pocket; +bring it, please, and meanwhile they'll finish clearing up here." + +Returning with the bottle, Levin found the sick man settled +comfortably and everything about him completely changed. The +heavy smell was replaced by the smell of aromatic vinegar, which +Kitty with pouting lips and puffed-out, rosy cheeks was squirting +through a little pipe. There was no dust visible anywhere, a rug +was laid by the bedside. On the table stood medicine bottles and +decanters tidily arranged, and the linen needed was folded up +there, and Kitty's _broderie anglaise_. On the other table by the +patient's bed there were candles and drink and powders. The sick +man himself, washed and combed, lay in clean sheets on high +raised pillows, in a clean night-shirt with a white collar about +his astoundingly thin neck, and with a new expression of hope +looked fixedly at Kitty. + +The doctor brought by Levin, and found by him at the club, was +not the one who had been attending Nikolay Levin, as the patient +was dissatisfied with him. The new doctor took up a stethoscope +and sounded the patient, shook his head, prescribed medicine, and +with extreme minuteness explained first how to take the medicine +and then what diet was to be kept to. He advised eggs, raw or +hardly cooked, and seltzer water, with warm milk at a certain +temperature. When the doctor had gone away the sick man said +something to his brother, of which Levin could distinguish only +the last words: "Your Katya." By the expression with which he +gazed at her, Levin saw that he was praising her. He called +indeed to Katya, as he called her. + +"I'm much better already," he said. "Why, with you I should have +got well long ago. How nice it is!" he took her hand and drew it +towards his lips, but as though afraid she would dislike it he +changed his mind, let it go, and only stroked it. Kitty took his +hand in both hers and pressed it. + +"Now turn me over on the left side and go to bed," he said. + +No one could make out what he said but Kitty; she alone +understood. She understood because she was all the while +mentally keeping watch on what he needed. + +"On the other side," she said to her husband, "he always sleeps +on that side. Turn him over, it's so disagreeable calling the +servants. I'm not strong enough. Can you?" she said to Marya +Nikolaevna. + +"I'm afraid not," answered Marya Nikolaevna. + +Terrible as it was to Levin to put his arms round that terrible +body, to take hold of that under the quilt, of which he preferred +to know nothing, under his wife's influence he made his resolute +face that she knew so well, and putting his arms into the bed +took hold of the body, but in spite of his own strength he was +struck by the strange heaviness of those powerless limbs. While +he was turning him over, conscious of the huge emaciated arm +about his neck, Kitty swiftly and noiselessly turned the pillow, +beat it up and settled in it the sick man's head, smoothing back +his hair, which was sticking again to his moist brow. + +The sick man kept his brother's hand in his own. Levin felt that +he meant to do something with his hand and was pulling it +somewhere. Levin yielded with a sinking heart: yes, he drew it +to his mouth and kissed it. Levin, shaking with sobs and unable +to articulate a word, went out of the room. + + + +Chapter 19 + + +"Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast +revealed them unto babes." So Levin thought about his wife as he +talked to her that evening. + +Levin thought of the text, not because he considered himself +"wise and prudent." He did not so consider himself, but he could +not help knowing that he had more intellect than his wife and +Agafea Mihalovna, and he could not help knowing that when he +thought of death, he thought with all the force of his intellect. +He knew too that the brains of many great men, whose thoughts he +had read, had brooded over death and yet knew not a hundredth +part of what his wife and Agafea Mihalovna knew about it. +Different as those two women were, Agafea Mihalovna and Katya, as +his brother Nikolay had called her, and as Levin particularly +liked to call her now, they were quite alike in this. Both knew, +without a shade of doubt, what sort of thing life was and what +was death, and though neither of them could have answered, and +would even not have understood the questions that presented +themselves to Levin, both had no doubt of the significance of +this event, and were precisely alike in their way of looking at +it, which they shared with millions of people. The proof that +they knew for a certainty the nature of death lay in the fact +that they knew without a second of hesitation how to deal with +the dying, and were not frightened of them. Levin and other men +like him, though they could have said a great deal about death, +obviously did not know this since they were afraid of death, and +were absolutely at a loss what to do when people were dying. If +Levin had been alone now with his brother Nikolay, he would have +looked at him with terror, and with still greater terror waited, +and would not have known what else to do. + +More than that, he did not know what to say, how to look, how to +move. To talk of outside things seemed to him shocking, +impossible, to talk of death and depressing subjects--also +impossible. To be silent, also impossible. "If I look at him he +will think I am studying him, I am afraid; if I don't look at +him, he'll think I'm thinking of other things. If I walk on +tiptoe, he will be vexed; to tread firmly, I'm ashamed." Kitty +evidently did not think of herself, and had no time to think +about herself: she was thinking about him because she knew +something, and all went well. She told him about herself even +and about her wedding, and smiled and sympathized with him and +petted him, and talked of cases of recovery and all went well; so +then she must know. The proof that her behavior and Agafea +Mihalovna's was not instinctive, animal, irrational, was that +apart from the physical treatment, the relief of suffering, both +Agafea Mihalovna and Kitty required for the dying man something +else more important than the physical treatment, and something +which had nothing in common with physical conditions. Agafea +Mihalovna, speaking of the man just dead, had said: "Well, thank +God, he took the sacrament and received absolution; God grant +each one of us such a death." Katya in just the same way, +besides all her care about linen, bedsores, drink, found time the +very first day to persuade the sick man of the necessity of +taking the sacrament and receiving absolution. + +On getting back from the sick-room to their own two rooms for the +night, Levin sat with hanging head not knowing what to do. Not +to speak of supper, of preparing for bed, of considering what +they were going to do, he could not even talk to his wife; he was +ashamed to. Kitty, on the contrary, was more active than usual. +She was even livelier than usual. She ordered supper to be +brought, herself unpacked their things, and herself helped to +make the beds, and did not even forget to sprinkle them with +Persian powder. She showed that alertness, that swiftness of +reflection comes out in men before a battle, in conflict, in the +dangerous and decisive moments of life--those moments when a man +shows once and for all his value, and that all his past has not +been wasted but has been a preparation for these moments. + +Everything went rapidly in her hands, and before it was twelve +o'clock all their things were arranged cleanly and tidily in her +rooms, in such a way that the hotel rooms seemed like home: the +beds were made, brushes, combs, looking-glasses were put out, +table napkins were spread. + +Levin felt that it was unpardonable to eat, to sleep, to talk +even now, and it seemed to him that every movement he made was +unseemly. She arranged the brushes, but she did it all so that +there was nothing shocking in it. + +They could neither of them eat, however, and for a long while +they could not sleep, and did not even go to bed. + +"I am very glad I persuaded him to receive extreme unction +tomorrow," she said, sitting in her dressing jacket before her +folding looking glass, combing her soft, fragrant hair with a +fine comb. "I have never seen it, but I know, mamma has told me, +there are prayers said for recovery." + +"Do you suppose he can possibly recover?" said Levin, watching a +slender tress at the back of her round little head that was +continually hidden when she passed the comb through the front. + +"I asked the doctor; he said he couldn't live more than three +days. But can they be sure? I'm very glad, anyway, that I +persuaded him," she said, looking askance at her husband through +her hair. "Anything is possible," she added with that peculiar, +rather sly expression that was always in her face when she spoke +of religion. + +Since their conversation about religion when they were engaged +neither of them had ever started a discussion of the subject, but +she performed all the ceremonies of going to church, saying her +prayers, and so on, always with the unvarying conviction that +this ought to be so. In spite of his assertion to the contrary, +she was firmly persuaded that he was as much a Christian as she, +and indeed a far better one; and all that he said about it was +simply one of his absurd masculine freaks, just as he would say +about her _broderie anglaise_ that good people patch holes, but +that she cut them on purpose, and so on. + +"Yes, you see this woman, Marya Nikolaevna, did not know how to +manage all this," said Levin. "And...I must own I'm very, +very glad you came. You are such purity that...." He took her +hand and did not kiss it (to kiss her hand in such closeness to +death seemed to him improper); he merely squeezed it with a +penitent air, looking at her brightening eyes. + +"It would have been miserable for you to be alone," she said, and +lifting her hands which hid her cheeks flushing with pleasure, +twisted her coil of hair on the nape of her neck and pinned it +there. "No," she went on, "she did not know how.... Luckily, I +learned a lot at Soden." + +"Surely there are not people there so ill?" + +"Worse." + +"What's so awful to me is that I can't see him as he was when he +was young. You would not believe how charming he was as a youth, +but I did not understand him then." + +"I can quite, quite believe it. How I feel that we might have +been friends!" she said; and, distressed at what she had said, +she looked round at her husband, and tears came into her eyes. + +"Yes, _might have been_," he said mournfully. "He's just one of +those people of whom they say they're not for this world." + +"But we have many days before us; we must go to bed," said Kitty, +glancing at her tiny watch. + + + +Chapter 20 + + +The next day the sick man received the sacrament and extreme +unction. During the ceremony Nikolay Levin prayed fervently. +His great eyes, fastened on the holy image that was set out on a +card table covered with a colored napkin, expressed such +passionate prayer and hope that it was awful to Levin to see it. +Levin knew that this passionate prayer and hope would only make +him feel more bitterly parting from the life he so loved. Levin +knew his brother and the workings of his intellect: he knew that +his unbelief came not from life being easier for him without +faith, but had grown up because step by step the contemporary +scientific interpretation of natural phenomena crushed out the +possibility of faith; and so he knew that his present return was +not a legitimate one, brought about by way of the same working of +his intellect, but simply a temporary, interested return to faith +in a desperate hope of recovery. Levin knew too that Kitty had +strengthened his hope by accounts of the marvelous recoveries she +had heard of. Levin knew all this; and it was agonizingly +painful to him to behold the supplicating, hopeful eyes and the +emaciated wrist, lifted with difficulty, making the sign of the +cross on the tense brow, and the prominent shoulders and hollow, +gasping chest, which one could not feel consistent with the life +the sick man was praying for. During the sacrament Levin did +what he, an unbeliever, had done a thousand times. He said, +addressing God, "If Thou dost exist, make this man to recover" +(of course this same thing has been repeated many times), "and +Thou wilt save him and me." + +After extreme unction the sick man became suddenly much better. +He did not cough once in the course of an hour, smiled, kissed +Kitty's hand, thanking her with tears, and said he was +comfortable, free from pain, and that he felt strong and had an +appetite. He even raised himself when his soup was brought, and +asked for a cutlet as well. Hopelessly ill as he was, obvious as +it was at the first glance that he could not recover, Levin and +Kitty were for that hour both in the same state of excitement, +happy, though fearful of being mistaken. + +"Is he better?" + +"Yes, much." + +"It's wonderful." + +"There's nothing wonderful in it." + +"Anyway, he's better," they said in a whisper, smiling to one +another. + +This self-deception was not of long duration. The sick man fell +into a quiet sleep, but he was waked up half an hour later by his +cough. And all at once every hope vanished in those about him +and in himself. The reality of his suffering crushed all hopes +in Levin and Kitty and in the sick man himself, leaving no doubt, +no memory even of past hopes. + +Without referring to what he had believed in half an hour before, +as though ashamed even to recall it, he asked for iodine to +inhale in a bottle covered with perforated paper. Levin gave him +the bottle, and the same look of passionate hope with which he +had taken the sacrament was now fastened on his brother, +demanding from him the confirmation of the doctor's words that +inhaling iodine worked wonders. + +"Is Katya not here?" he gasped, looking round while Levin +reluctantly assented to the doctor's words. "No; so I can say +it.... It was for her sake I went through that farce. She's so +sweet; but you and I can't deceive ourselves. This is what I +believe in," he said, and, squeezing the bottle in his bony hand, +he began breathing over it. + +At eight o'clock in the evening Levin and his wife were drinking +tea in their room when Marya Nikolaevna ran in to them +breathlessly. She was pale, and her lips were quivering. "He is +dying!" she whispered. "I'm afraid will die this minute." + +Both of them ran to him. He was sitting raised up with one elbow +on the bed, his long back bent, and his head hanging low. + +"How do you feel?" Levin asked in a whisper, after a silence. + +"I feel I'm setting off," Nikolay said with difficulty, but with +extreme distinctness, screwing the words out of himself. He did +not raise his head, but simply turned his eyes upwards, without +their reaching his brother's face. "Katya, go away!" he added. + +Levin jumped up, and with a peremptory whisper made her go out. + +"I'm setting off," he said again. + +"Why do you think so?" said Levin, so as to say something. + +"Because I'm setting off," he repeated, as though he had a liking +for the phrase. "It's the end." + +Marya Nikolaevna went up to him. + +"You had better lie down; you'd be easier," she said. + +"I shall lie down soon enough," he pronounced slowly, "when I'm +dead," he said sarcastically, wrathfully. "Well, you can lay me +down if you like." + +Levin laid his brother on his back, sat down beside him, and +gazed at his face, holding his breath. The dying man lay with +closed eyes, but the muscles twitched from time to time on his +forehead, as with one thinking deeply and intensely. Levin +involuntarily thought with him of what it was that was happening +to him now, but in spite of all his mental efforts to go along +with him he saw by the expression of that calm, stern face that +for the dying man all was growing clearer and clearer that was +still as dark as ever for Levin. + +"Yes, yes, so," the dying man articulated slowly at intervals. +"Wait a little." He was silent. "Right!" he pronounced all at +once reassuringly, as though all were solved for him. "O Lord!" +he murmured, and sighed deeply. + +Marya Nikolaevna felt his feet. "They're getting cold," she +whispered. + +For a long while, a very long while it seemed to Levin, the sick +man lay motionless. But he was still alive, and from time to +time he sighed. Levin by now was exhausted from mental strain. +He felt that, with no mental effort, could he understand what it +was that was _right_. He could not even think of the problem of +death itself, but with no will of his own thoughts kept coming to +him of what he had to do next; closing the dead man's eyes, +dressing him, ordering the coffin. And, strange to say, he felt +utterly cold, and was not conscious of sorrow nor of loss, less +still of pity for his brother. If he had any feeling for his +brother at that moment, it was envy for the knowledge the dying +man had now that he could not have. + +A long time more he sat over him so, continually expecting the +end. But the end did not come. The door opened and Kitty +appeared. Levin got up to stop her. But at the moment he was +getting up, he caught the sound of the dying man stirring. + +"Don't go away," said Nikolay and held out his hand. Levin gave +him his, and angrily waved to his wife to go away. + +With the dying man's hand in his hand, he sat for half an hour, +an hour, another hour. He did not think of death at all now. He +wondered what Kitty was doing; who lived in the next room; +whether the doctor lived in a house of his own. He longed for +food and for sleep. He cautiously drew away his hand and felt +the feet. The feet were cold, but the sick man was still +breathing. Levin tried again to move away on tiptoe, but the +sick man stirred again and said: "Don't go." + + * * * * * * * * + +The dawn came; the sick man's condition was unchanged. Levin +stealthily withdrew his hand, and without looking at the dying +man, went off to his own room and went to sleep. When he woke +up, instead of news of his brother's death which he expected, he +learned that the sick man had returned to his earlier condition. +He had begun sitting up again, coughing, had begun eating again, +talking again, and again had ceased to talk of death, again had +begun to express hope of his recovery, and had become more +irritable and more gloomy than ever. No one, neither his brother +nor Kitty, could soothe him. He was angry with everyone, and +said nasty things to everyone, reproached everyone for his +sufferings, and insisted that they should get him a celebrated +doctor from Moscow. To all inquiries made him as to how he felt, +he made the same answer with an expression of vindictive +reproachfulness, "I'm suffering horribly, intolerably!" + +The sick man was suffering more and more, especially from +bedsores, which it was impossible now to remedy, and grew more +and more angry with everyone about him, blaming them for +everything, and especially for not having brought him a doctor +from Moscow. Kitty tried in every possible way to relieve him, +to soothe him; but it was all in vain, and Levin saw that she +herself was exhausted both physically and morally, though she +would not admit it. The sense of death, which had been evoked in +all by his taking leave of life on the night when he had sent for +his brother, was broken up. Everyone knew that he must +inevitably die soon, that he was half dead already. Everyone +wished for nothing but that he should die as soon as possible, +and everyone, concealing this, gave him medicines, tried to find +remedies and doctors, and deceived him and themselves and each +other. All this was falsehood, disgusting, irreverent deceit. +And owing to the bent of his character, and because he loved the +dying man more than anyone else did, Levin was most painfully +conscious of this deceit. + +Levin, who had long been possessed by the idea of reconciling his +brothers, at least in face of death, had written to his brother, +Sergey Ivanovitch, and having received an answer from him, he +read this letter to the sick man. Sergey Ivanovitch wrote that +he could not come himself, and in touching terms he begged his +brother's forgiveness. + +The sick man said nothing. + +"What am I to write to him?" said Levin. "I hope you are not +angry with him?" + +"No, not the least!" Nikolay answered, vexed at the question. +"Tell him to send me a doctor." + +Three more days of agony followed; the sick man was still in the +same condition. The sense of longing for his death was felt by +everyone now at the mere sight of him, by the waiters and the +hotel-keeper and all the people staying in the hotel, and the +doctor and Marya Nikolaevna and Levin and Kitty. The sick man +alone did not express this feeling, but on the contrary was +furious at their not getting him doctors, and went on taking +medicine and talking of life. Only at rare moments, when the +opium gave him an instant's relief from the never-ceasing pain, +he would sometimes, half asleep, utter what was ever more intense +in his heart than in all the others: "Oh, if it were only the +end!" or: "When will it be over?" + +His sufferings, steadily growing more intense, did their work and +prepared him for death. There was no position in which he was +not in pain, there was not a minute in which he was unconscious +of it, not a limb, not a part of his body that did not ache and +cause him agony. Even the memories, the impressions, the +thoughts of this body awakened in him now the same aversion as +the body itself. The sight of other people, their remarks, his +own reminiscences, everything was for him a source of agony. +Those about him felt this, and instinctively did not allow +themselves to move freely, to talk, to express their wishes +before him. All his life was merged in the one feeling of +suffering and desire to be rid of it. + +There was evidently coming over him that revulsion that would +make him look upon death as the goal of his desires, as +happiness. Hitherto each individual desire, aroused by suffering +or privation, such as hunger, fatigue, thirst, had been satisfied +by some bodily function giving pleasure. But now no physical +craving or suffering received relief, and the effort to relieve +them only caused fresh suffering. And so all desires were merged +in one--the desire to be rid of all his sufferings and their +source, the body. But he had no words to express this desire of +deliverance, and so he did not speak of it, and from habit asked +for the satisfaction of desires which could not now be satisfied. +"Turn me over on the other side," he would say, and immediately +after he would ask to be turned back again as before. "Give me +some broth. Take away the broth. Talk of something: why are you +silent?" And directly they began to talk he would close his eyes, +and would show weariness, indifference, and loathing. + +On the tenth day from their arrival at the town, Kitty was +unwell. She suffered from headache and sickness, and she could +not get up all the morning. + +The doctor opined that the indisposition arose from fatigue and +excitement, and prescribed rest. + +After dinner, however, Kitty got up and went as usual with her +work to the sick man. He looked at her sternly when she came in, +and smiled contemptuously when she said she had been unwell. +That day he was continually blowing his nose, and groaning +piteously. + +"How do you feel?" she asked him. + +"Worse," he articulated with difficulty. "In pain!" + +"In pain, where?" + +"Everywhere." + +"It will be over today, you will see," said Marya Nikolaevna. +Though it was said in a whisper, the sick man, whose hearing +Levin had noticed was very keen, must have heard. Levin said +hush to her, and looked round at the sick man. Nikolay had +heard; but these words produced no effect on him. His eyes had +still the same intense, reproachful look. + +"Why do you think so?" Levin asked her, when she had followed him +into the corridor. + +"He has begun picking at himself," said Marya Nikolaevna. + +"How do you mean?" + +"Like this," she said, tugging at the folds of her woolen skirt. +Levin noticed, indeed, that all that day the patient pulled at +himself, as it were, trying to snatch something away. + +Marya Nikolaevna's prediction came true. Towards night the sick +man was not able to lift his hands, and could only gaze before +him with the same intensely concentrated expression in his eyes. +Even when his brother or Kitty bent over him, so that he could +see them, he looked just the same. Kitty sent for the priest to +read the prayer for the dying. + +While the priest was reading it, the dying man did not show any +sign of life; his eyes were closed. Levin, Kitty, and Marya +Nikolaevna stood at the bedside. The priest had not quite +finished reading the prayer when the dying man stretched, sighed, +and opened his eyes. The priest, on finishing the prayer, put +the cross to the cold forehead, then slowly returned it to the +stand, and after standing for two minutes more in silence, he +touched the huge, bloodless hand that was turning cold. + +"He is gone," said the priest, and would have moved away; but +suddenly there was a faint stir in the mustaches of the dead man +that seemed glued together, and quite distinctly in the hush they +heard from the bottom of the chest the sharply defined sounds: + +"Not quite...soon." + +And a minute later the face brightened, a smile came out under +the mustaches, and the women who had gathered round began +carefully laying out the corpse. + +The sight of his brother, and the nearness of death, revived in +Levin that sense of horror in face of the insoluble enigma, +together with the nearness and inevitability of death, that had +come upon him that autumn evening when his brother had come to +him. This feeling was now even stronger than before; even less +than before did he feel capable of apprehending the meaning of +death, and its inevitability rose up before him more terrible +than ever. But now, thanks to his wife's presence, that feeling +did not reduce him to despair. In spite of death, he felt the +need of life and love. He felt that love saved him from despair, +and that this love, under the menace of despair, had become still +stronger and purer. The one mystery of death, still unsolved, +had scarcely passed before his eyes, when another mystery had +arisen, as insoluble, urging him to love and to life. + +The doctor confirmed his suppositions in regard to Kitty. Her +indisposition was a symptom that she was with child. + + + +Chapter 21 + + +From the moment when Alexey Alexandrovitch understood from his +interviews with Betsy and with Stepan Arkadyevitch that all that +was expected of him was to leave his wife in peace, without +burdening her with his presence, and that his wife herself +desired this, he felt so distraught that he could come to no +decision of himself; he did not know himself what he wanted now, +and putting himself in the hands of those who were so pleased to +interest themselves in his affairs, he met everything with +unqualified assent. It was only when Anna had left his house, +and the English governess sent to ask him whether she should dine +with him or separately, that for the first time he clearly +comprehended his position, and was appalled by it. Most +difficult of all in this position was the fact that he could not +in any way connect and reconcile his past with what was now. It +was not the past when he had lived happily with his wife that +troubled him. The transition from that past to a knowledge of +his wife's unfaithfulness he had lived through miserably already; +that state was painful, but he could understand it. If his wife +had then, on declaring to him her unfaithfulness, left him, he +would have been wounded, unhappy, but he would not have been in +the hopeless position--incomprehensible to himself--in which he +felt himself now. He could not now reconcile his immediate past, +his tenderness, his love for his sick wife, and for the other +man's child with what was now the case, that is with the fact +that, as it were, in return for all this he now found himself +alone, put to shame, a laughing-stock, needed by no one, and +despised by everyone. + +For the first two days after his wife's departure Alexey +Alexandrovitch received applicants for assistance and his chief +secretary, drove to the committee, and went down to dinner in the +dining room as usual. Without giving himself a reason for what +he was doing, he strained every nerve of his being for those two +days, simply to preserve an appearance of composure, and even of +indifference. Answering inquiries about the disposition of Anna +Arkadyevna's rooms and belongings, he had exercised immense +self-control to appear like a man in whose eyes what had occurred +was not unforeseen nor out of the ordinary course of events, and +he attained his aim: no one could have detected in him signs of +despair. But on the second day after her departure, when Korney +gave him a bill from a fashionable draper's shop, which Anna had +forgotten to pay, and announced that the clerk from the shop was +waiting, Alexey Alexandrovitch told him to show the clerk up. + +"Excuse me, your excellency, for venturing to trouble you. But +if you direct us to apply to her excellency, would you graciously +oblige us with her address?" + +Alexey Alexandrovitch pondered, as it seemed to the clerk, and +all at once, turning round, he sat down at the table. Letting +his head sink into his hands, he sat for a long while in that +position, several times attempted to speak and stopped short. +Korney, perceiving his master's emotion, asked the clerk to call +another time. Left alone, Alexey Alexandrovitch recognized that +he had not the strength to keep up the line of firmness and +composure any longer. He gave orders for the carriage that was +awaiting him to be taken back, and for no one to be admitted, and +he did not go down to dinner. + +He felt that he could not endure the weight of universal contempt +and exasperation, which he had distinctly seen in the face of the +clerk and of Korney, and of everyone, without exception, whom he +had met during those two days. He felt that he could not turn +aside from himself the hatred of men, because that hatred did not +come from his being bad (in that case he could have tried to be +better), but from his being shamefully and repulsively unhappy. +He knew that for this, for the very fact that his heart was torn +with grief, they would be merciless to him. He felt that men +would crush him as dogs strangle a torn dog yelping with pain. +He knew that his sole means of security against people was to +hide his wounds from them, and instinctively he tried to do this +for two days, but now he felt incapable of keeping up the unequal +struggle. + +His despair was even intensified by the consciousness that he was +utterly alone in his sorrow. In all Petersburg there was not a +human being to whom he could express what he was feeling, who +would feel for him, not as a high official, not as a member of +society, but simply as a suffering man; indeed he had not such a +one in the whole world. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch grew up an orphan. There were two +brothers. They did not remember their father, and their mother +died when Alexey Alexandrovitch was ten years old. The property +was a small one. Their uncle, Karenin, a government official of +high standing, at one time a favorite of the late Tsar, had +brought them up. + +On completing his high school and university courses with medals, +Alexey Alexandrovitch had, with his uncle's aid, immediately +started in a prominent position in the service, and from that +time forward he had devoted himself exclusively to political +ambition. In the high school and the university, and afterwards +in the service, Alexey Alexandrovitch had never formed a close +friendship with anyone. His brother had been the person nearest +to his heart, but he had a post in the Ministry of Foreign +Affairs, and was always abroad, where he had died shortly after +Alexey Alexandrovitch's marriage. + +While he was governor of a province, Anna's aunt, a wealthy +provincial lady, had thrown him--middle-aged as he was, though +young for a governor--with her niece, and had succeeded in +putting him in such a position that he had either to declare +himself or to leave the town. Alexey Alexandrovitch was not long +in hesitation. There were at the time as many reasons for the +step as against it, and there was no overbalancing consideration +to outweigh his invariable rule of abstaining when in doubt. But +Anna's aunt had through a common acquaintance insinuated that he +had already compromised the girl, and that he was in honor bound +to make her an offer. He made the offer, and concentrated on his +betrothed and his wife all the feeling of which he was capable. + +The attachment he felt to Anna precluded in his heart every need +of intimate relations with others. And now among all his +acquaintances he had not one friend. He had plenty of so-called +connections, but no friendships. Alexey Alexandrovitch had +plenty of people whom he could invite to dinner, to whose +sympathy he could appeal in any public affair he was concerned +about, whose interest he could reckon upon for anyone he wished +to help, with whom he could candidly discuss other people's +business and affairs of state. But his relations with these +people were confined to one clearly defined channel, and had a +certain routine from which it was impossible to depart. There +was one man, a comrade of his at the university, with whom he had +made friends later, and with whom he could have spoken of a +personal sorrow; but this friend had a post in the Department of +Education in a remote part of Russia. Of the people in +Petersburg the most intimate and most possible were his chief +secretary and his doctor. + +Mihail Vassilievitch Sludin, the chief secretary, was a +straightforward, intelligent, good-hearted, and conscientious +man, and Alexey Alexandrovitch was aware of his personal +goodwill. But their five years of official work together seemed +to have put a barrier between them that cut off warmer relations. + +After signing the papers brought him, Alexey Alexandrovitch had +sat for a long while in silence, glancing at Mihail +Vassilievitch, and several times he attempted to speak, but could +not. He had already prepared the phrase: "You have heard of my +trouble?" But he ended by saying, as usual: "So you'll get this +ready for me?" and with that dismissed him. + +The other person was the doctor, who had also a kindly feeling +for him; but there had long existed a taciturn understanding +between them that both were weighed down by work, and always in a +hurry. + +Of his women friends, foremost amongst them Countess Lidia +Ivanovna, Alexey Alexandrovitch never thought. All women, simply +as women, were terrible and distasteful to him. + + + +Chapter 22 + + +Alexey Alexandrovitch had forgotten the Countess Lidia Ivanovna, +but she had not forgotten him. At the bitterest moment of his +lonely despair she came to him, and without waiting to be +announced, walked straight into his study. She found him as he +was sitting with his head in both hands. + +"_J'ai force la consigne_," she said, walking in with rapid steps +and breathing hard with excitement and rapid exercise. "I have +heard all! Alexey Alexandrovitch! Dear friend!" she went on, +warmly squeezing his hand in both of hers and gazing with her +fine pensive eyes into his. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch, frowning, got up, and disengaging his +hand, moved her a chair. + +"Won't you sit down, countess? I'm seeing no one because I'm +unwell, countess," he said, and his lips twitched. + +"Dear friend!" repeated Countess Lidia Ivanovna, never taking her +eyes off his, and suddenly her eyebrows rose at the inner +corners, describing a triangle on her forehead, her ugly yellow +face became still uglier, but Alexey Alexandrovitch felt that she +was sorry for him and was preparing to cry. And he too was +softened; he snatched her plump hand and proceeded to kiss it. + +"Dear friend!" she said in a voice breaking with emotion. "You +ought not to give way to grief. Your sorrow is a great one, but +you ought to find consolation." + +"I am crushed, I am annihilated, I am no longer a man!" said +Alexey Alexandrovitch, letting go her hand, but still gazing into +her brimming eyes. "My position is so awful because I can find +nowhere, I cannot find within me strength to support me." + +"You will find support; seek it--not in me, though I beseech you +to believe in my friendship," she said, with a sigh. "Our +support is love, that love that He has vouchsafed us. His burden +is light," she said, with the look of ecstasy Alexey +Alexandrovitch knew so well. "He will be your support and your +succor." + +Although there was in these words a flavor of that sentimental +emotion at her own lofty feelings, and that new mystical fervor +which had lately gained ground in Petersburg, and which seemed to +Alexey Alexandrovitch disproportionate, still it was pleasant to +him to hear this now. + +"I am weak. I am crushed. I foresaw nothing, and now I +understand nothing." + +"Dear friend," repeated Lidia Ivanovna. + +"It's not the loss of what I have not now, it's not that!" +pursued Alexey Alexandrovitch. "I do not grieve for that. But +I cannot help feeling humiliated before other people for the +position I am placed in. It is wrong, but I can't help it, I +can't help it." + +"Not you it was performed that noble act of forgiveness, at which +I was moved to ecstasy, and everyone else too, but He, working +within your heart," said Countess Lidia Ivanovna, raising her +eyes rapturously, "and so you cannot be ashamed of your act." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch knitted his brows, and crooking his hands, +he cracked his fingers. + +"One must know all the facts," he said in his thin voice. "A +man's strength has its limits, countess, and I have reached my +limits. The whole day I have had to be making arrangements, +arrangements about household matters arising" (he emphasized the +word _arising_) "from my new, solitary position. The servants, +the governess, the accounts.... These pinpricks have stabbed me to +the heart, and I have not the strength to bear it. At dinner... +yesterday, I was almost getting up from the dinner table. I +could not bear the way my son looked at me. He did not ask me +the meaning of it all, but he wanted to ask, and I could not bear +the look in his eyes. He was afraid to look at me, but that is +not all...." Alexey Alexandrovitch would have referred to the +bill that had been brought him, but his voice shook, and he +stopped. That bill on blue paper, for a hat and ribbons, he +could not recall without a rush of self-pity. + +"I understand, dear friend," said Lidia Ivanovna. "I understand +it all. Succor and comfort you will find not in me, though I +have come only to aid you if I can. If I could take from off you +all these petty, humiliating cares...I understand that a woman's +word, a woman's superintendence is needed. You will intrust it +to me?" + +Silently and gratefully Alexey Alexandrovitch pressed her hand. + +"Together we will take care of Seryozha. Practical affairs are +not my strong point. But I will set to work. I will be your +housekeeper. Don't thank me. I do it not from myself..." + +"I cannot help thanking you." + +"But, dear friend, do not give way to the feeling of which you +spoke--being ashamed of what is the Christian's highest glory: +_he who humbles himself shall be exalted_. And you cannot thank +me. You must thank Him, and pray to Him for succor. In Him +alone we find peace, consolation, salvation, and love," she said, +and turning her eyes heavenwards, she began praying, as Alexey +Alexandrovitch gathered from her silence. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch listened to her now, and those expressions +which had seemed to him, if not distasteful, at least +exaggerated, now seemed to him natural and consolatory. Alexey +Alexandrovitch had disliked this new enthusiastic fervor. He was +a believer, who was interested in religion primarily in its +political aspect, and the new doctrine which ventured upon +several new interpretations, just because it paved the way to +discussion and analysis, was in principle disagreeable to him. +He had hitherto taken up a cold and even antagonistic attitude to +this new doctrine, and with Countess Lidia Ivanovna, who had been +carried away by it, he had never argued, but by silence had +assiduously parried her attempts to provoke him into argument. +Now for the first time he heard her words with pleasure, and did +not inwardly oppose them. + +"I am very, very grateful to you, both for your deeds and for +your words," he said, when she had finished praying. + +Countess Lidia Ivanovna once more pressed both her friend's +hands. + +"Now I will enter upon my duties," she said with a smile after a +pause, as she wiped away the traces of tears. "I am going to +Seryozha. Only in the last extremity shall I apply to you." And +she got up and went out. + +Countess Lidia Ivanovna went into Seryozha's part of the house, +and dropping tears on the scared child's cheeks, she told him +that his father was a saint and his mother was dead. + +Countess Lidia Ivanovna kept her promise. She did actually take +upon herself the care of the organization and management of +Alexey Alexandrovitch's household. But she had not overstated +the case when saying that practical affairs were not her strong +point. All her arrangements had to be modified because they +could not be carried out, and they were modified by Korney, +Alexey Alexandrovitch's valet, who, though no one was aware of +the fact, now managed Karenin's household, and quietly and +discreetly reported to his master while he was dressing all it +was necessary for him to know. But Lidia Ivanovna's help was +none the less real; she gave Alexey Alexandrovitch moral support +in the consciousness of her love and respect for him, and still +more, as it was soothing to her to believe, in that she almost +turned him to Christianity--that is, from an indifferent and +apathetic believer she turned him into an ardent and steadfast +adherent of the new interpretation of Christian doctrine, which +had been gaining ground of late in Petersburg. It was easy for +Alexey Alexandrovitch to believe in this teaching. Alexey +Alexandrovitch, like Lidia Ivanovna indeed, and others who shared +their views, was completely devoid of vividness of imagination, +that spiritual faculty in virtue of which the conceptions evoked +by the imagination become so vivid that they must needs be in +harmony with other conceptions, and with actual fact. He saw +nothing impossible and inconceivable in the idea that death, +though existing for unbelievers, did not exist for him, and that, +as he was possessed of the most perfect faith, of the measure of +which he was himself the judge, therefore there was no sin in his +soul, and he was experiencing complete salvation here on earth. + +It is true that the erroneousness and shallowness of this +conception of his faith was dimly perceptible to Alexey +Alexandrovitch, and he knew that when, without the slightest idea +that his forgiveness was the action of a higher power, he had +surrendered directly to the feeling of forgiveness, he had felt +more happiness than now when he was thinking every instant that +Christ was in his heart, and that in signing official papers he +was doing His will. But for Alexey Alexandrovitch it was a +necessity to think in that way; it was such a necessity for him +in his humiliation to have some elevated standpoint, however +imaginary, from which, looked down upon by all, he could look +down on others, that he clung, as to his one salvation, to his +delusion of salvation. + + + +Chapter 23 + + +The Countess Lidia Ivanovna had, as a very young and sentimental +girl, been married to a wealthy man of high rank, an extremely +good-natured, jovial, and extremely dissipated rake. Two months +after marriage her husband abandoned her, and her impassioned +protestations of affection he met with a sarcasm and even +hostility that people knowing the count's good heart, and seeing +no defects in the sentimental Lidia, were at a loss to explain. +Though they were divorced and lived apart, yet whenever the +husband met the wife, he invariably behaved to her with the same +malignant irony, the cause of which was incomprehensible. + +Countess Lidia Ivanovna had long given up being in love with her +husband, but from that time she had never given up being in love +with someone. She was in love with several people at once, both +men and women; she had been in love with almost everyone who had +been particularly distinguished in any way. She was in love with +all the new princes and princesses who married into the imperial +family; she had been in love with a high dignitary of the Church, +a vicar, and a parish priest; she had been in love with a +journalist, three Slavophiles, with Komissarov, with a minister, +a doctor, an English missionary and Karenin. All these passions +constantly waning or growing more ardent, did not prevent her +from keeping up the most extended and complicated relations with +the court and fashionable society. But from the time that after +Karenin's trouble she took him under her special protection, from +the time that she set to work in Karenin's household looking +after his welfare, she felt that all her other attachments were +not the real thing, and that she was now genuinely in love, and +with no one but Karenin. The feeling she now experienced for him +seemed to her stronger than any of her former feelings. +Analyzing her feeling, and comparing it with former passions, she +distinctly perceived that she would not have been in love with +Komissarov if he had not saved the life of the Tsar, that she +would not have been in love with Ristitch-Kudzhitsky if there had +been no Slavonic question, but that she loved Karenin for +himself, for his lofty, uncomprehended soul, for the sweet--to +her--high notes of his voice, for his drawling intonation, his +weary eyes, his character, and his soft white hands with their +swollen veins. She was not simply overjoyed at meeting him, but +she sought in his face signs of the impression she was making on +him. She tried to please him, not by her words only, but in her +whole person. For his sake it was that she now lavished more +care on her dress than before. She caught herself in reveries on +what might have been, if she had not been married and he had been +free. She blushed with emotion when he came into the room, she +could not repress a smile of rapture when he said anything +amiable to her. + +For several days now Countess Lidia Ivanovna had been in a state +of intense excitement. She had learned that Anna and Vronsky +were in Petersburg. Alexey Alexandrovitch must be saved from +seeing her, he must be saved even from the torturing knowledge +that that awful woman was in the same town with him, and that he +might meet her any minute. + +Lidia Ivanovna made inquiries through her friends as to what +those _infamous people_, as she called Anna and Vronsky, intended +doing, and she endeavored so to guide every movement of her +friend during those days that he could not come across them. The +young adjutant, an acquaintance of Vronsky, through whom she +obtained her information, and who hoped through Countess Lidia +Ivanovna to obtain a concession, told her that they had finished +their business and were going away next day. Lidia Ivanovna had +already begun to calm down, when the next morning a note was +brought her, the handwriting of which she recognized with horror. +It was the handwriting of Anna Karenina. The envelope was of +paper as thick as bark; on the oblong yellow paper there was a +huge monogram, and the letter smelt of agreeable scent. + +"Who brought it?" + +"A commissionaire from the hotel." + +It was some time before Countess Lidia Ivanovna could sit down to +read the letter. Her excitement brought on an attack of asthma, +to which she was subject. When she had recovered her composure, +she read the following letter in French: + +"Madame la Comtesse, + +"The Christian feelings with which your heart is filled give me +the, I feel, unpardonable boldness to write to you. I am +miserable at being separated from my son. I entreat permission +to see him once before my departure. Forgive me for recalling +myself to your memory. I apply to you and not to Alexey +Alexandrovitch, simply because I do not wish to cause that +generous man to suffer in remembering me. Knowing your +friendship for him, I know you will understand me. Could you +send Seryozha to me, or should I come to the house at some fixed +hour, or will you let me know when and where I could see him away +from home? I do not anticipate a refusal, knowing the +magnanimity of him with whom it rests. You cannot conceive the +craving I have to see him, and so cannot conceive the gratitude +your help will arouse in me. + +Anna" + +Everything in this letter exasperated Countess Lidia Ivanovna: +its contents and the allusion to magnanimity, and especially its +free and easy--as she considered--tone. + +"Say that there is no answer," said Countess Lidia Ivanovna, and +immediately opening her blotting-book, she wrote to Alexey +Alexandrovitch that she hoped to see him at one o'clock at the +levee. + +"I must talk with you of a grave and painful subject. There we +will arrange where to meet. Best of all at my house, where I +will order tea _as you like it_. Urgent. He lays the cross, but +He gives the strength to bear it," she added, so as to give him +some slight preparation. Countess Lidia Ivanovna usually wrote +some two or three letters a day to Alexey Alexandrovitch. She +enjoyed that form of communication, which gave opportunity for a +refinement and air of mystery not afforded by their personal +interviews. + + + +Chapter 24 + + +The levee was drawing to a close. People met as they were going +away, and gossiped of the latest news, of the newly bestowed +honors and the changes in the positions of the higher +functionaries. + +"If only Countess Marya Borissovna were Minister of War, and +Princess Vatkovskaya were Commander-in-Chief," said a +gray-headed, little old man in a gold-embroidered uniform, +addressing a tall, handsome maid of honor who had questioned him +about the new appointments. + +"And me among the adjutants," said the maid of honor, smiling. + +"You have an appointment already. You're over the ecclesiastical +department. And your assistant's Karenin." + +"Good-day, prince!" said the little old man to a man who came up +to him. + +"What were you saying of Karenin?" said the prince. + +"He and Putyatov have received the Alexander Nevsky." + +"I thought he had it already." + +"No. Just look at him," said the little old man, pointing with +his embroidered hat to Karenin in a court uniform with the new +red ribbon across his shoulders, standing in the doorway of the +hall with an influential member of the Imperial Council. +"Pleased and happy as a brass farthing," he added, stopping to +shake hands with a handsome gentleman of the bedchamber of +colossal proportions. + +"No; he's looking older," said the gentleman of the bedchamber. + +"From overwork. He's always drawing up projects nowadays. He +won't let a poor devil go nowadays till he's explained it all to +him under heads." + +"Looking older, did you say? _Il fait des passions_. I believe +Countess Lidia Ivanovna's jealous now of his wife." + +"Oh, come now, please don't say any harm of Countess Lidia +Ivanovna." + +"Why, is there any harm in her being in love with Karenin?" + +"But is it true Madame Karenina's here?" + +"Well, not here in the palace, but in Petersburg. I met her +yesterday with Alexey Vronsky, _bras dessous, bras dessous_, +in the Morsky." + +"C'est un homme qui n'a pas..." the gentleman of the bedchamber +was beginning, but he stopped to make room, bowing, for a member +of the Imperial family to pass. + +Thus people talked incessantly of Alexey Alexandrovitch, finding +fault with him and laughing at him, while he, blocking up the way +of the member of the Imperial Council he had captured, was +explaining to him point by point his new financial project, never +interrupting his discourse for an instant for fear he should +escape. + +Almost at the same time that his wife left Alexey Alexandrovitch +there had come to him that bitterest moment in the life of an +official--the moment when his upward career comes to a full stop. +This full stop had arrived and everyone perceived it, but Alexey +Alexandrovitch himself was not yet aware that his career was +over. Whether it was due to his feud with Stremov, or his +misfortune with his wife, or simply that Alexey Alexandrovitch +had reached his destined limits, it had become evident to +everyone in the course of that year that his career was at an +end. He still filled a position of consequence, he sat on many +commissions and committees, but he was a man whose day was over, +and from whom nothing was expected. Whatever he said, whatever +he proposed, was heard as though it were something long familiar, +and the very thing that was not needed. But Alexey +Alexandrovitch was not aware of this, and, on the contrary, being +cut off from direct participation in governmental activity, he +saw more clearly than ever the errors and defects in the action +of others, and thought it his duty to point out means for their +correction. Shortly after his separation from his wife, he began +writing his first note on the new judicial procedure, the first +of the endless series of notes he was destined to write in the +future. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch did not merely fail to observe his hopeless +position in the official world, he was not merely free from +anxiety on this head, he was positively more satisfied than ever +with his own activity. + +"He that is unmarried careth for the things that belong to the +Lord, how he may please the Lord: But he that is married careth +for the things that are of the world, how he may please his +wife," says the Apostle Paul, and Alexey Alexandrovitch, who was +now guided in every action by Scripture, often recalled this +text. It seemed to him that ever since he had been left without +a wife, he had in these very projects of reform been serving the +Lord more zealously than before. + +The unmistakable impatience of the member of the Council trying +to get away from him did not trouble Alexey Alexandrovitch; he +gave up his exposition only when the member of the Council, +seizing his chance when one of the Imperial family was passing, +slipped away from him. + +Left alone, Alexey Alexandrovitch looked down, collecting his +thoughts, then looked casually about him and walked towards the +door, where he hoped to meet Countess Lidia Ivanovna. + +"And how strong they all are, how sound physically," thought +Alexey Alexandrovitch, looking at the powerfully built gentleman +of the bedchamber with his well-combed, perfumed whiskers, and at +the red neck of the prince, pinched by his tight uniform. He had +to pass them on his way. "Truly is it said that all the world is +evil," he thought, with another sidelong glance at the calves of +the gentleman of the bedchamber. + +Moving forward deliberately, Alexey Alexandrovitch bowed with his +customary air of weariness and dignity to the gentleman who had +been talking about him, and looking towards the door, his eyes +sought Countess Lidia Ivanovna. + +"Ah! Alexey Alexandrovitch!" said the little old man, with a +malicious light in his eyes, at the moment when Karenin was on a +level with them, and was nodding with a frigid gesture, "I +haven't congratulated you yet," said the old man, pointing to his +newly received ribbon. + +"Thank you," answered Alexey Alexandrovitch. "What an _exquisite_ +day to-day," he added, laying emphasis in his peculiar way on the +word _exquisite_. + +That they laughed at him he was well aware, but he did not expect +anything but hostility from them; he was used to that by now. + +Catching sight of the yellow shoulders of Lidia Ivanovna jutting +out above her corset, and her fine pensive eyes bidding him to +her, Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled, revealing untarnished white +teeth, and went towards her. + +Lidia Ivanovna's dress had cost her great pains, as indeed all +her dresses had done of late. Her aim in dress was now quite the +reverse of that she had pursued thirty years before. Then her +desire had been to adorn herself with something, and the more +adorned the better. Now, on the contrary, she was perforce +decked out in a way so inconsistent with her age and her figure, +that her one anxiety was to contrive that the contrast between +these adornments and her own exterior should not be too +appalling. And as far as Alexey Alexandrovitch was concerned she +succeeded, and was in his eyes attractive. For him she was the +one island not only of goodwill to him, but of love in the midst +of the sea of hostility and jeering that surrounded him. + +Passing through rows of ironical eyes, he was drawn as naturally +to her loving glance as a plant to the sun. + +"I congratulate you," she said to him, her eyes on his ribbon. + +Suppressing a smile of pleasure, he shrugged his shoulders, +closing his eyes, as though to say that that could not be a +source of joy to him. Countess Lidia Ivanovna was very well +aware that it was one of his chief sources of satisfaction, +though he never admitted it. + +"How is our angel?" said Countess Lidia Ivanovna, meaning +Seryozha. + +"I can't say I was quite pleased with him," said Alexey +Alexandrovitch, raising his eyebrows and opening his eyes. "And +Sitnikov is not satisfied with him." (Sitnikov was the tutor to +whom Seryozha's secular education had been intrusted.) "As I +have mentioned to you, there's a sort of coldness in him towards +the most important questions which ought to touch the heart of +every man and every child...." Alexey Alexandrovitch began +expounding his views on the sole question that interested him +besides the service--the education of his son. + +When Alexey Alexandrovitch with Lidia Ivanovna's help had been +brought back anew to life and activity, he felt it his duty to +undertake the education of the son left on his hands. Having +never before taken any interest in educational questions, Alexey +Alexandrovitch devoted some time to the theoretical study of the +subject. After reading several books on anthropology, education, +and didactics, Alexey Alexandrovitch drew up a plan of education, +and engaging the best tutor in Petersburg to superintend it, he +set to work, and the subject continually absorbed him. + +"Yes, but the heart. I see in him his father's heart, and with +such a heart a child cannot go far wrong," said Lidia Ivanovna +with enthusiasm. + +"Yes, perhaps.... As for me, I do my duty. It's all I can +do." + +"You're coming to me," said Countess Lidia Ivanovna, after a +pause; "we have to speak of a subject painful for you. I would +give anything to have spared you certain memories, but others +are not of the same mind. I have received a letter from _her_. +_She_ is here in Petersburg." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch shuddered at the allusion to his wife, but +immediately his face assumed the deathlike rigidity which +expressed utter helplessness in the matter. + +"I was expecting it," he said. + +Countess Lidia Ivanovna looked at him ecstatically, and tears of +rapture at the greatness of his soul came into her eyes. + + + +Chapter 25 + + +When Alexey Alexandrovitch came into the Countess Lidia +Ivanovna's snug little boudoir, decorated with old china and hung +with portraits, the lady herself had not yet made her appearance. + +She was changing her dress. + +A cloth was laid on a round table, and on it stood a china +tea service and a silver spirit-lamp and tea kettle. Alexey +Alexandrovitch looked idly about at the endless familiar +portraits which adorned the room, and sitting down to the table, +he opened a New Testament lying upon it. The rustle of the +countess's silk skirt drew his attention off. + +"Well now, we can sit quietly," said Countess Lidia Ivanovna, +slipping hurriedly with an agitated smile between the table and +the sofa, "and talk over our tea." + +After some words of preparation, Countess Lidia Ivanovna, +breathing hard and flushing crimson, gave into Alexey +Alexandrovitch's hands the letter she had received. + +After reading the letter, he sat a long while in silence. + +"I don't think I have the right to refuse her," he said, +timidly lifting his eyes. + +"Dear friend, you never see evil in anyone!" + +"On the contrary, I see that all is evil. But whether it is +just..." + +His face showed irresolution, and a seeking for counsel, support, +and guidance in a matter he did not understand. + +"No," Countess Lidia Ivanovna interrupted him; "there are limits +to everything. I can understand immorality," she said, not +quite truthfully, since she never could understand that which +leads women to immorality; "but I don't understand cruelty: to +whom? to you! How can she stay in the town where you are? No, +the longer one lives the more one learns. And I'm learning to +understand your loftiness and her baseness." + +"Who is to throw a stone?" said Alexey Alexandrovitch, +unmistakably pleased with the part he had to play. "I have +forgiven all, and so I cannot deprive her of what is exacted by +love in her--by her love for her son...." + +"But is that love, my friend? Is it sincere? Admitting that you +have forgiven--that you forgive--have we the right to work on the +feelings of that angel? He looks on her as dead. He prays for +her, and beseeches God to have mercy on her sins. And it is +better so. But now what will he think?" + +"I had not thought of that," said Alexey Alexandrovitch, +evidently agreeing. + +Countess Lidia Ivanovna hid her face in her hands and was silent. +she was praying. + +"If you ask my advice," she said, having finished her prayer and +uncovered her face, "I do not advise you to do this. Do you +suppose I don't see how you are suffering, how this has torn open +your wounds? But supposing that, as always, you don't think of +yourself, what can it lead to?--to fresh suffering for you, to +torture for the child. If there were a trace of humanity left in +her, she ought not to wish for it herself. No, I have no +hesitation in saying I advise not, and if you will intrust it to +me, I will write to her." + +And Alexey Alexandrovitch consented, and Countess Lidia Ivanovna +sent the following letter in French: + +"Dear Madame, + +"To be reminded of you might have results for your son in leading +to questions on his part which could not be answered without +implanting in the child's soul a spirit of censure towards what +should be for him sacred, and therefore I beg you to interpret +your husband's refusal in the spirit of Christian love. I pray +to Almighty God to have mercy on you. + Countess Lidia" + +This letter attained the secret object which Countess Lidia +Ivanovna had concealed from herself. It wounded Anna to the +quick. + +For his part, Alexey Alexandrovitch, on returning home from Lidia +Ivanovna's, could not all that day concentrate himself on his +usual pursuits, and find that spiritual peace of one saved and +believing which he had felt of late. + +The thought of his wife, who had so greatly sinned against him, +and towards whom he had been so saintly, as Countess Lidia +Ivanovna had so justly told him, ought not to have troubled him; +but he was not easy; he could not understand the book he was +reading; he could not drive away harassing recollections of his +relations with her, of the mistake which, as it now seemed, he +had made in regard to her. The memory of how he had received her +confession of infidelity on their way home from the races +(especially that he had insisted only on the observance of +external decorum, and had not sent a challenge) tortured him like +a remorse. He was tortured too by the thought of the letter he +had written her; and most of all, his forgiveness, which nobody +wanted, and his care of the other man's child made his heart burn +with shame and remorse. + +And just the same feeling of shame and regret he felt now, as he +reviewed all his past with her, recalling the awkward words in +which, after long wavering, he had made her an offer. + +"But how have I been to blame?" he said to himself. And this +question always excited another question in him--whether they +felt differently, did their loving and marrying differently, +these Vronskys and Oblonskys...these gentlemen of the +bedchamber, with their fine calves. And there passed before his +mind a whole series of these mettlesome, vigorous, self- +confident men, who always and everywhere drew his inquisitive +attention in spite of himself. He tried to dispel these +thoughts, he tried to persuade himself that he was not living for +this transient life, but for the life of eternity, and that there +was peace and love in his heart. + +But the fact that he had in this transient, trivial life made, as +it seemed to him, a few trivial mistakes tortured him as though +the eternal salvation in which he believed had no existence. But +this temptation did not last long, and soon there was +reestablished once more in Alexey Alexandrovitch's soul the peace +and the elevation by virtue of which he could forget what he did +not want to remember. + + + +Chapter 26 + + +"Well, Kapitonitch?" said Seryozha, coming back rosy and good- +humored from his walk the day before his birthday, and giving his +overcoat to the tall old hall porter, who smiled down at the +little person from the height of his long figure. "Well, has the +bandaged clerk been here today? Did papa see him?" + +"He saw him. The minute the chief secretary came out, I +announced him," said the hall porter with a good-humored wink. +"Here, I'll take it off." + +"Seryozha!" said the tutor, stopping in the doorway leading to +the inner rooms. "Take it off yourself." But Seryozha, though +he heard his tutor's feeble voice, did not pay attention to it. +He stood keeping hold of the hall porter's belt, and gazing into +his face. + +"Well, and did papa do what he wanted for him?" + +The hall porter nodded his head affirmatively. The clerk with +his face tied up, who had already been seven times to ask some +favor of Alexey Alexandrovitch, interested both Seryozha and the +hall porter. Seryozha had come upon him in the hall, and had +heard him plaintively beg the hall porter to announce him, saying +that he and his children had death staring them in the face. + +Since then Seryozha, having met him a second time in the hall, +took great interest in him. + +"Well, was he very glad?" he asked. + +"Glad? I should think so! Almost dancing as he walked away." + +"And has anything been left?" asked Seryozha, after a pause. + +"Come, sir," said the hall-porter; then with a shake of his head +he whispered, "Something from the countess." + +Seryozha understood at once that what the hall porter was +speaking of was a present from Countess Lidia Ivanovna for his +birthday. + +"What do you say? Where?" + +"Korney took it to your papa. A fine plaything it must be too!" + +"How big? Like this?" + +"Rather small, but a fine thing." + +"A book." + +"No, a thing. Run along, run along, Vassily Lukitch is calling +you," said the porter, hearing the tutor's steps approaching, and +carefully taking away from his belt the little hand in the glove +half pulled off, he signed with his head towards the tutor. + +"Vassily Lukitch, in a tiny minute!" answered Seryozha with that +gay and loving smile which always won over the conscientious +Vassily Lukitch. + +Seryozha was too happy, everything was too delightful for him to +be able to help sharing with his friend the porter the family +good fortune of which he had heard during his walk in the public +gardens from Lidia Ivanovna's niece. This piece of good news +seemed to him particularly important from its coming at the same +time with the gladness of the bandaged clerk and his own gladness +at toys having come for him. It seemed to Seryozha that this was +a day on which everyone ought to be glad and happy. + +"You know papa's received the Alexander Nevsky today?" + +"To be sure I do! People have been already to congratulate him." + +"And is he glad?" + +"Glad at the Tsar's gracious favor! I should think so! It's a +proof he's deserved it," said the porter severely and seriously. + +Seryozha fell to dreaming, gazing up at the face of the porter, +which he had thoroughly studied in every detail, especially the +chin that hung down between the gray whiskers, never seen by +anyone but Seryozha, who saw him only from below. + +"Well, and has your daughter been to see you lately?" + +The porter's daughter was a ballet dancer. + +"When is she to come on week-days? They've their lessons to +learn too. And you've your lesson, sir; run along." + +On coming into the room, Seryozha, instead of sitting down to his +lessons, told his tutor of his supposition that what had been +brought him must be a machine. "What do you think?" he inquired. + +But Vassily Lukitch was thinking of nothing but the necessity of +learning the grammar lesson for the teacher, who was coming at +two. + +"No, do just tell me, Vassily Lukitch," he asked suddenly, when +he was seated at their work table with the book in his hands, +"what is greater than the Alexander Nevsky? You know papa's +received the Alexander Nevsky?" + +Vassily Lukitch replied that the Vladimir was greater than the +Alexander Nevsky. + +"And higher still?" + +"Well, highest of all is the Andrey Pervozvanny." + +"And higher than the Andrey?" + +"I don't know." + +"What, you don't know?" and Seryozha, leaning on his elbows, sank +into deep meditation. + +His meditations were of the most complex and diverse character. +He imagined his father's having suddenly been presented with both +the Vladimir and the Andrey today, and in consequence being much +better tempered at his lesson, and dreamed how, when he was grown +up, he would himself receive all the orders, and what they might +invent higher than the Andrey. Directly any higher order were +invented, he would win it. They would make a higher one still, +and he would immediately win that too. + +The time passed in such meditations, and when the teacher came, +the lesson about the adverbs of place and time and manner of +action was not ready, and the teacher was not only displeased, +but hurt. This touched Seryozha. He felt he was not to blame +for not having learned the lesson; however much he tried, he was +utterly unable to do that. As long as the teacher was explaining +to him, he believed him and seemed to comprehend, but as soon as +he was left alone, he was positively unable to recollect and to +understand that the short and familiar word "suddenly" is an +adverb of manner of action. Still he was sorry that he had +disappointed the teacher. + +He chose a moment when the teacher was looking in silence at the +book. + +"Mihail Ivanitch, when is your birthday?" he asked all, of a +sudden. + +"You'd much better be thinking about your work. Birthdays are of +no importance to a rational being. It's a day like any other on +which one has to do one's work." + +Seryozha looked intently at the teacher, at his scanty beard, at +his spectacles, which had slipped down below the ridge on his +nose, and fell into so deep a reverie that he heard nothing of +what the teacher was explaining to him. He knew that the teacher +did not think what he said; he felt it from the tone in which it +was said. "But why have they all agreed to speak just in the +same manner always the dreariest and most useless stuff? Why +does he keep me off; why doesn't he love me?" he asked himself +mournfully, and could not think of an answer. + + + +Chapter 27 + + +After the lesson with the grammar teacher came his father's +lesson. While waiting for his father, Seryozha sat at the table +playing with a penknife, and fell to dreaming. Among Seryozha's +favorite occupations was searching for his mother during his +walks. He did not believe in death generally, and in her death +in particular, in spite of what Lidia Ivanovna had told him and +his father had confirmed, and it was just because of that, and +after he had been told she was dead, that he had begun looking +for her when out for a walk. Every woman of full, graceful +figure with dark hair was his mother. At the sight of such a +woman such a feeling of tenderness was stirred within him that +his breath failed him, and tears came into his eyes. And he was +on the tiptoe of expectation that she would come up to him, would +lift her veil. All her face would be visible, she would smile, +she would hug him, he would sniff her fragrance, feel the +softness of her arms, and cry with happiness, just as he had one +evening lain on her lap while she tickled him, and he laughed and +bit her white, ring-covered fingers. Later, when he accidentally +learned from his old nurse that his mother was not dead, and his +father and Lidia Ivanovna had explained to him that she was dead +to him because she was wicked (which he could not possibly +believe, because he loved her), he went on seeking her and +expecting her in the same way. That day in the public gardens +there had been a lady in a lilac veil, whom he had watched with a +throbbing heart, believing it to be she as she came towards them +along the path. The lady had not come up to them, but had +disappeared somewhere. That day, more intensely than ever, +Seryozha felt a rush of love for her, and now, waiting for his +father, he forgot everything, and cut all round the edge of the +table with his penknife, staring straight before him with +sparkling eyes and dreaming of her. + +"Here is your papa!" said Vassily Lukitch, rousing him. + +Seryozha jumped up and went up to his father, and kissing his +hand, looked at him intently, trying to discover signs of his joy +at receiving the Alexander Nevsky. + +"Did you have a nice walk?" said Alexey Alexandrovitch, sitting +down in his easy chair, pulling the volume of the Old Testament +to him and opening it. Although Alexey Alexandrovitch had more +than once told Seryozha that every Christian ought to know +Scripture history thoroughly, he often referred to the Bible +himself during the lesson, and Seryozha observed this. + +"Yes, it was very nice indeed, papa," said Seryozha, sitting +sideways on his chair and rocking it, which was forbidden. "I +saw Nadinka" (Nadinka was a niece of Lidia Ivanovna's who was +being brought up in her house). "She told me you'd been given a +new star. Are you glad, papa?" + +"First of all, don't rock your chair, please," said Alexey +Alexandrovitch. "And secondly, it's not the reward that's +precious, but the work itself. And I could have wished you +understood that. If you now are going to work, to study in order +to win a reward, then the work will seem hard to you; but when +you work" (Alexey Alexandrovitch, as he spoke, thought of how he +had been sustained by a sense of duty through the wearisome labor +of the morning, consisting of signing one hundred and eighty +papers), "loving your work, you will find your reward in it." + +Seryozha's eyes, that had been shining with gaiety and +tenderness, grew dull and dropped before his father's gaze. This +was the same long-familiar tone his father always took with him, +and Seryozha had learned by now to fall in with it. His father +always talked to him--so Seryozha felt--as though he were +addressing some boy of his own imagination, one of those boys +that exist in books, utterly unlike himself. And Seryozha always +tried with his father to act being the story-book boy. + +"You understand that, I hope?" said his father. + +"Yes, papa," answered Seryozha, acting the part of the imaginary +boy. + +The lesson consisted of learning by heart several verses out of +the Gospel and the repetition of the beginning of the Old +Testament. The verses from the Gospel Seryozha knew fairly well, +but at the moment when he was saying them he became so absorbed +in watching the sharply protruding, bony knobbiness of his +father's forehead, that he lost the thread, and he transposed the +end of one verse and the beginning of another. So it was evident +to Alexey Alexandrovitch that he did not understand what he was +saying, and that irritated him. + +He frowned, and began explaining what Seryozha had heard many +times before and never could remember, because he understood it +too well, just as that "suddenly" is an adverb of manner of +action. Seryozha looked with scared eyes at his father, and +could think of nothing but whether his father would make him +repeat what he had said, as he sometimes did. And this thought +so alarmed Seryozha that he now understood nothing. But his +father did not make him repeat it, and passed on to the lesson +out of the Old Testament. Seryozha recounted the events +themselves well enough, but when he had to answer questions as to +what certain events prefigured, he knew nothing, though he had +already been punished over this lesson. The passage at which he +was utterly unable to say anything, and began fidgeting and +cutting the table and swinging his chair, was where he had to +repeat the patriarchs before the Flood. He did not know one of +them, except Enoch, who had been taken up alive to heaven. Last +time he had remembered their names, but now he had forgotten them +utterly, chiefly because Enoch was the personage he liked best in +the whole of the Old Testament, and Enoch's translation to heaven +was connected in his mind with a whole long train of thought, in +which he became absorbed now while he gazed with fascinated eyes +at his father's watch-chain and a half-unbuttoned button on his +waistcoat. + +In death, of which they talked to him so often, Seryozha +disbelieved entirely. He did not believe that those he loved +could die, above all that he himself would die. That was to him +something utterly inconceivable and impossible. But he had been +told that all men die; he had asked people, indeed, whom he +trusted, and they too, had confirmed it; his old nurse, too, said +the same, though reluctantly. But Enoch had not died, and so it +followed that everyone did not die. "And why cannot anyone else +so serve God and be taken alive to heaven?" thought Seryozha. +Bad people, that is those Seryozha did not like, they might die, +but the good might all be like Enoch. + +"Well, what are the names of the patriarchs?" + +"Enoch, Enos--" + +"But you have said that already. This is bad, Seryozha, very +bad. If you don't try to learn what is more necessary than +anything for a Christian," said his father, getting up, "whatever +can interest you? I am displeased with you, and Piotr Ignatitch" +(this was the most important of his teachers) "is displeased with +you.... I shall have to punish you." + +His father and his teacher were both displeased with Seryozha, +and he certainly did learn his lessons very badly. But still it +could not be said he was a stupid boy. On the contrary, he was +far cleverer than the boys his teacher held up as examples to +Seryozha. In his father's opinion, he did not want to learn what +he was taught. In reality he could not learn that. He could +not, because the claims of his own soul were more binding on him +than those claims his father and his teacher made upon him. +Those claims were in opposition, and he was in direct conflict +with his education. He was nine years old; he was a child; but +he knew his own soul, it was precious to him, he guarded it as +the eyelid guards the eye, and without the key of love he let no +one into his soul. His teachers complained that he would not +learn, while his soul was brimming over with thirst for +knowledge. And he learned from Kapitonitch, from his nurse, from +Nadinka, from Vassily Lukitch, but not from his teachers. The +spring his father and his teachers reckoned upon to turn their +mill-wheels had long dried up at the source, but its waters did +their work in another channel. + +His father punished Seryozha by not letting him go to see +Nadinka, Lidia Ivanovna's niece; but this punishment turned out +happily for Seryozha. Vassily Lukitch was in a good humor, and +showed him how to make windmills. The whole evening passed over +this work and in dreaming how to make a windmill on which he +could turn himself--clutching at the sails or tying himself on +and whirling round. Of his mother Seryozha did not think all the +evening, but when he had gone to bed, he suddenly remembered her, +and prayed in his own words that his mother tomorrow for his +birthday might leave off hiding herself and come to him. + +"Vassily Lukitch, do you know what I prayed for tonight extra +besides the regular things?" + +"That you might learn your lessons better?" + +"No." + +"Toys?" + +"No. You'll never guess. A splendid thing; but it's a secret! +When it comes to pass I'll tell you. Can't you guess!" + +"No, I can't guess. You tell me," said Vassily Lukitch with a +smile, which was rare with him. "Come, lie down, I'm putting out +the candle." + +"Without the candle I can see better what I see and what I prayed +for. There! I was almost telling the secret!" said Seryozha, +laughing gaily. + +When the candle was taken away, Seryozha heard and felt his +mother. She stood over him, and with loving eyes caressed him. +But then came windmills, a knife, everything began to be mixed +up, and he fell asleep. + + + +Chapter 28 + + +On arriving in Petersburg, Vronsky and Anna stayed at one of the +best hotels; Vronsky apart in a lower story, Anna above with +her child, its nurse, and her maid, in a large suite of four +rooms. + +On the day of his arrival Vronsky went to his brother's. There +he found his mother, who had come from Moscow on business. His +mother and sister-in-law greeted him as usual: they asked him +about his stay abroad, and talked of their common acquaintances, +but did not let drop a single word in allusion to his connection +with Anna. His brother came the next morning to see Vronsky, and +of his own accord asked him about her, and Alexey Vronsky told +him directly that he looked upon his connection with Madame +Karenina as marriage; that he hoped to arrange a divorce, and +then to marry her, and until then he considered her as much a +wife as any other wife, and he begged him to tell their mother +and his wife so. + +"If the world disapproves, I don't care," said Vronsky; "but if +my relations want to be on terms of relationship with me, they +will have to be on the same terms with my wife." + +The elder brother, who had always a respect for his younger +brother's judgment, could not well tell whether he was right or +not till the world had decided the question; for his part he had +nothing against it, and with Alexey he went up to see Anna. + +Before his brother, as before everyone, Vronsky addressed Anna +with a certain formality, treating her as he might a very +intimate friend, but it was understood that his brother knew +their real relations, and they talked about Anna's going to +Vronsky's estate. + +In spite of all his social experience Vronsky was, in consequence +of the new position in which he was placed, laboring under a +strange misapprehension. One would have thought he must have +understood that society was closed for him and Anna; but now some +vague ideas had sprung up in his brain that this was only the +case in old-fashioned days, and that now with the rapidity of +modern progress (he had unconsciously become by now a partisan of +every sort of progress) the views of society had changed, and +that the question whether they would be received in society was +not a foregone conclusion. "Of course," he thought, "she would +not be received at court, but intimate friends can and must look +at it in the proper light." One may sit for several hours at a +stretch with one's legs crossed in the same position, if one +knows that there's nothing to prevent one's changing one's +position; but if a man knows that he must remain sitting so with +crossed legs, then cramps come on, the legs begin to twitch and +to strain towards the spot to which one would like to draw them. +This was what Vronsky was experiencing in regard to the world. +Though at the bottom of his heart he knew that the world was shut +on them, he put it to the test whether the world had not changed +by now and would not receive them. But he very quickly perceived +that though the world was open for him personally, it was closed +for Anna. Just as in the game of cat and mouse, the hands raised +for him were dropped to bar the way for Anna. + +One of the first ladies of Petersburg society whom Vronsky saw +was his cousin Betsy. + +"At last!" she greeted him joyfully. "And Anna? How glad I am! +Where are you stopping? I can fancy after your delightful +travels you must find our poor Petersburg horrid. I can fancy +your honeymoon in Rome. How about the divorce? Is that all +over?" + +Vronsky noticed that Betsy's enthusiasm waned when she learned +that no divorce had as yet taken place. + +"People will throw stones at me, I know," she said, "but I shall +come and see Anna; yes, I shall certainly come. You won't be +here long, I suppose?" + +And she did certainly come to see Anna the same day, but her tone +was not at all the same as in former days. She unmistakably +prided herself on her courage, and wished Anna to appreciate the +fidelity of her friendship. She only stayed ten minutes, talking +of society gossip, and on leaving she said: + +"You've never told me when the divorce is to be? Supposing I'm +ready to fling my cap over the mill, other starchy people will +give you the cold shoulder until you're married. And that's so +simple nowadays. _Ca se fait_. So you're going on Friday? Sorry +we shan't see each other again." + +From Betsy's tone Vronsky might have grasped what he had to +expect from the world; but he made another effort in his own +family. His mother he did not reckon upon. He knew that his +mother, who had been so enthusiastic over Anna at their first +acquaintance, would have no mercy on her now for having ruined +her son's career. But he had more hope of Varya, his brother's +wife. He fancied she would not throw stones, and would go simply +and directly to see Anna, and would receive her in her own +house. + +The day after his arrival Vronsky went to her, and finding her +alone, expressed his wishes directly. + +"You know, Alexey," she said after hearing him, "how fond I am of +you, and how ready I am to do anything for you; but I have not +spoken, because I knew I could be of no use to you and to Anna +Arkadyevna," she said, articulating the name "Anna Arkadyevna" +with particular care. "Don't suppose, please, that I judge her. +Never; perhaps in her place I should have done the same. I don't +and can't enter into that," she said, glancing timidly at his +gloomy face. "But one must call things by their names. You want +me to go and see her, to ask her here, and to rehabilitate her in +society; but do understand that I _cannot_ do so. I have daughters +growing up, and I must live in the world for my husband's sake. +Well, I'm ready to come and see Anna Arkadyevna: she will +understand that I can't ask her here, or I should have to do so +in such a way that she would not meet people who look at things +differently; that would offend her. I can't raise her..." + +"Oh, I don't regard her as fallen more than hundreds of women you +do receive!" Vronsky interrupted her still more gloomily, and he +got up in silence, understanding that his sister-in-law's +decision was not to be shaken. + +"Alexey! don't be angry with me. Please understand that I'm not +to blame," began Varya, looking at him with a timid smile. + +"I'm not angry with you," he said still as gloomily; "but I'm +sorry in two ways. I'm sorry, too, that this means breaking up +our friendship--if not breaking up, at least weakening it. You +will understand that for me, too, it cannot be otherwise." + +And with that he left her. + +Vronsky knew that further efforts were useless, and that he had +to spend these few days in Petersburg as though in a strange +town, avoiding every sort of relation with his own old circle in +order not to be exposed to the annoyances and humiliations which +were so intolerable to him. One of the most unpleasant features +of his position in Petersburg was that Alexey Alexandrovitch and +his name seemed to meet him everywhere. He could not begin to +talk of anything without the conversation turning on Alexey +Alexandrovitch; he could not go anywhere without risk of meeting +him. So at least it seemed to Vronsky, just as it seems to a man +with a sore finger that he is continually, as though on purpose, +grazing his sore finger on everything. + +Their stay in Petersburg was the more painful to Vronsky that he +perceived all the time a sort of new mood that he could not +understand in Anna. At one time she would seem in love with him, +and then she would become cold, irritable, and impenetrable. She +was worrying over something, and keeping something back from him, +and did not seem to notice the humiliations which poisoned his +existence, and for her, with her delicate intuition, must have +been still more unbearable. + + + +Chapter 29 + + +One of Anna's objects in coming back to Russia had been to see +her son. From the day she left Italy the thought of it had never +ceased to agitate her. And as she got nearer to Petersburg, the +delight and importance of this meeting grew ever greater in her +imagination. She did not even put to herself the question how to +arrange it. It seemed to her natural and simple to see her son +when she should be in the same town with him. But on her arrival +in Petersburg she was suddenly made distinctly aware of her +present position in society, and she grasped the fact that to +arrange this meeting was no easy matter. + +She had now been two days in Petersburg. The thought of her son +never left her for a single instant, but she had not yet seen +him. To go straight to the house, where she might meet Alexey +Alexandrovitch, that she felt she had no right to do. She might +be refused admittance and insulted. To write and so enter into +relations with her husband--that it made her miserable to think +of doing; she could only be at peace when she did not think of +her husband. To get a glimpse of her son out walking, finding +out where and when he went out, was not enough for her; she had +so looked forward to this meeting, she had so much she must say +to him, she so longed to embrace him, to kiss him. Seryozha's +old nurse might be a help to her and show her what to do. But +the nurse was not now living in Alexey Alexandrovitch's house. +In this uncertainty, and in efforts to find the nurse, two days +had slipped by. + +Hearing of the close intimacy between Alexey Alexandrovitch and +Countess Lidia Ivanovna, Anna decided on the third day to write +to her a letter, which cost her great pains, and in which she +intentionally said that permission to see her son must depend on +her husband's generosity. She knew that if the letter were shown +to her husband, he would keep up his character of magnanimity, +and would not refuse her request. + +The commissionaire who took the letter had brought her back the +most cruel and unexpected answer, that there was no answer. She +had never felt so humiliated as at the moment when, sending for +the commissionaire, she heard from him the exact account of how +he had waited, and how afterwards he had been told there was no +answer. Anna felt humiliated, insulted, but she saw that from +her point of view Countess Lidia Ivanovna was right. Her +suffering was the more poignant that she had to bear it in +solitude. She could not and would not share it with Vronsky. +She knew that to him, although he was the primary cause of her +distress, the question of her seeing her son would seem a matter +of very little consequence. She knew that he would never be +capable of understanding all the depth of her suffering, that for +his cool tone at any allusion to it she would begin to hate him. +And she dreaded that more than anything in the world, and so she +hid from him everything that related to her son. Spending the +whole day at home she considered ways of seeing her son, and had +reached a decision to write to her husband. She was just +composing this letter when she was handed the letter from Lidia +Ivanovna. The countess's silence had subdued and depressed her, +but the letter, all that she read between the lines in it, so +exasperated her, this malice was so revolting beside her +passionate, legitimate tenderness for her son, that she turned +against other people and left off blaming herself. + +"This coldness--this pretense of feeling!" she said to herself. +"They must needs insult me and torture the child, and I am to +submit to it! Not on any consideration! She is worse than I am. +I don't lie, anyway." And she decided on the spot that next day, +Seryozha's birthday, she would go straight to her husband's +house, bribe or deceive the servants, but at any cost see her son +and overturn the hideous deception with which they were +encompassing the unhappy child. + +She went to a toy shop, bought toys and thought over a plan of +action. She would go early in the morning at eight o'clock, when +Alexey Alexandrovitch would be certain not to be up. She would +have money in her hand to give the hall porter and the footman, +so that they should let her in, and not raising her veil, she +would say that she had come from Seryozha's godfather to +congratulate him, and that she had been charged to leave the toys +at his bedside. She had prepared everything but the words she +should say to her son. Often as she had dreamed of it, she could +never think of anything. + +The next day, at eight o'clock in the morning, Anna got out of a +hired sledge and rang at the front entrance of her former home. + +"Run and see what's wanted. Some lady," said Kapitonitch, who, +not yet dressed, in his overcoat and galoshes, had peeped out of +the window and seen a lady in a veil standing close up to the +door. His assistant, a lad Anna did not know, had no sooner +opened the door to her than she came in, and pulling a +three-rouble note out of her muff put it hurriedly into his hand. + +"Seryozha--Sergey Alexeitch," she said, and was going on. +Scrutinizing the note, the porter's assistant stopped her at the +second glass door. + +"Whom do you want?" he asked. + +She did not hear his words and made no answer. + +Noticing the embarrassment of the unknown lady, Kapitonitch went +out to her, opened the second door for her, and asked her what +she was pleased to want. + +"From Prince Skorodumov for Sergey Alexeitch," she said. + +"His honor's not up yet," said the porter, looking at her +attentively. + +Anna had not anticipated that the absolutely unchanged hall of +the house where she had lived for nine years would so greatly +affect her. Memories sweet and painful rose one after another in +her heart, and for a moment she forgot what she was here for. + +"Would you kindly wait?" said Kapitonitch, taking off her fur +cloak. + +As he took off the cloak, Kapitonitch glanced at her face, +recognized her, and made her a low bow in silence. + +"Please walk in, your excellency," he said to her. + +She tried to say something, but her voice refused to utter any +sound; with a guilty and imploring glance at the old man she went +with light, swift steps up the stairs. Bent double, and his +galoshes catching in the steps, Kapitonitch ran after her, trying +to overtake her. + +"The tutor's there; maybe he's not dressed. I'll let him know." + +Anna still mounted the familiar staircase, not understanding what +the old man was saying. + +"This way, to the left, if you please. Excuse its not being +tidy. His honor's in the old parlor now," the hall porter said, +panting. "Excuse me, wait a little, your excellency; I'll just +see," he said, and overtaking her, he opened the high door and +disappeared behind it. Anna stood still waiting. "He's only +just awake," said the hall porter, coming out. And at the very +instant the porter said this, Anna caught the sound of a childish +yawn. From the sound of this yawn alone she knew her son and +seemed to see him living before her eyes. + +"Let me in; go away!" she said, and went in through the high +doorway. On the right of the door stood a bed, and sitting up in +the bed was the boy. His little body bent forward with his +nightshirt unbuttoned, he was stretching and still yawning. The +instant his lips came together they curved into a blissfully +sleepy smile, and with that smile he slowly and deliciously +rolled back again. + +"Seryozha!" she whispered, going noiselessly up to him. + +When she was parted from him, and all this latter time when she +had been feeling a fresh rush of love for him, she had pictured +him as he was at four years old, when she had loved him most of +all. Now he was not even the same as when she had left him; he +was still further from the four-year-old baby, more grown and +thinner. How thin his face was, how short his hair was! What +long hands! How he had changed since she left him! But it was +he with his head, his lips, his soft neck and broad little +shoulders. + +"Seryozha!" she repeated just in the child's ear. + +He raised himself again on his elbow, turned his tangled head +from side to side as though looking for something, and opened his +eyes. Slowly and inquiringly he looked for several seconds at +his mother standing motionless before him, then all at once he +smiled a blissful smile, and shutting his eyes, rolled not +backwards but towards her into her arms. + +"Seryozha! my darling boy!" she said, breathing hard and putting +her arms round his plump little body. "Mother!" he said, +wriggling about in her arms so as to touch her hands with +different parts of him. + +Smiling sleepily still with closed eyes, he flung fat little arms +round her shoulders, rolled towards her, with the delicious +sleepy warmth and fragrance that is only found in children, and +began rubbing his face against her neck and shoulders. + +"I know," he said, opening his eyes; "it's my birthday today. I +knew you'd come. I'll get up directly." + +And saying that he dropped asleep. + +Anna looked at him hungrily; she saw how he had grown and changed +in her absence. She knew, and did not know, the bare legs so +long now, that were thrust out below the quilt, those +short-cropped curls on his neck in which she had so often kissed +him. She touched all this and could say nothing; tears choked +her. + +"What are you crying for, mother?" he said, waking completely up. +"Mother, what are you crying for?" he cried in a tearful voice. + +"I won't cry...I'm crying for joy. It's so long since I've seen +you. I won't, I won't," she said, gulping down her tears and +turning away. "Come, it's time for you to dress now," she added, +after a pause, and, never letting go his hands, she sat down by +his bedside on the chair, where his clothes were put ready for +him. + +"How do you dress without me? How..." she tried to begin talking +simply and cheerfully, but she could not, and again she turned +away. + +"I don't have a cold bath, papa didn't order it. And you've not +seen Vassily Lukitch? He'll come in soon. Why, you're sitting +on my clothes!" + +And Seryozha went off into a peal of laughter. She looked at him +and smiled. + +"Mother, darling, sweet one!" he shouted, flinging himself on her +again and hugging her. It was as though only now, on seeing her +smile, he fully grasped what had happened. + +"I don't want that on," he said, taking off her hat. And as it +were, seeing her afresh without her hat, he fell to kissing her +again. + +"But what did you think about me? You didn't think I was dead?" + +"I never believed it." + +"You didn't believe it, my sweet?" + +"I knew, I knew!" he repeated his favorite phrase, and snatching +the hand that was stroking his hair, he pressed the open palm to +his mouth and kissed it. + + + +Chapter 30 + + +Meanwhile Vassily Lukitch had not at first understood who this +lady was, and had learned from their conversation that it was no +other person than the mother who had left her husband, and whom +he had not seen, as he had entered the house after her departure. +He was in doubt whether to go in or not, or whether to +communicate with Alexey Alexandrovitch. Reflecting finally that +his duty was to get Seryozha up at the hour fixed, and that it +was therefore not his business to consider who was there, the +mother or anyone else, but simply to do his duty, he finished +dressing, went to the door and opened it. + +But the embraces of the mother and child, the sound of their +voices, and what they were saying, made him change his mind. + +He shook his head, and with a sigh he closed the door. "I'll +wait another ten minutes," he said to himself, clearing his +throat and wiping away tears. + +Among the servants of the household there was intense excitement +all this time. All had heard that their mistress had come, and +that Kapitonitch had let her in, and that she was even now in the +nursery, and that their master always went in person to the +nursery at nine o'clock, and every one fully comprehended that it +was impossible for the husband and wife to meet, and that they +must prevent it. Korney, the valet, going down to the +hall porter's room, asked who had let her in, and how it was he +had done so, and ascertaining that Kapitonitch had admitted her +and shown her up, he gave the old man a talking-to. The +hall porter was doggedly silent, but when Korney told him he +ought to be sent away, Kapitonitch darted up to him, and waving +his hands in Korney's face, began: + +"Oh yes, to be sure you'd not have let her in! After ten years' +service, and never a word but of kindness, and there you'd up and +say, 'Be off, go along, get away with you!' Oh yes, you're a +shrewd one at politics, I dare say! You don't need to be taught +how to swindle the master, and to filch fur coats!" + +"Soldier!" said Korney contemptuously, and he turned to the nurse +who was coming in. "Here, what do you think, Marya Efimovna: he +let her in without a word to anyone," Korney said addressing +her. "Alexey Alexandrovitch will be down immediately--and go +into the nursery!" + +"A pretty business, a pretty business!" said the nurse. "You, +Korney Vassilievitch, you'd best keep him some way or other, the +master, while I'll run and get her away somehow. A pretty +business!" + +When the nurse went into the nursery, Seryozha was telling his +mother how he and Nadinka had had a fall in sledging downhill, +and had turned over three times. She was listening to the sound +of his voice, watching his face and the play of expression on it, +touching his hand, but she did not follow what he was saying. +She must go, she must leave him,--this was the only thing she was +thinking and feeling. She heard the steps of Vassily Lukitch +coming up to the door and coughing; she heard, too, the steps of +the nurse as she came near; but she sat like one turned to stone, +incapable of beginning to speak or to get up. + +"Mistress, darling!" began the nurse, going up to Anna and +kissing her hands and shoulders. "God has brought joy indeed to +our boy on his birthday. You aren't changed one bit." + +"Oh, nurse dear, I didn't know you were in the house," said Anna, +rousing herself for a moment. + +"I'm not living here, I'm living with my daughter. I came for +the birthday, Anna Arkadyevna, darling!" + +The nurse suddenly burst into tears, and began kissing her hand +again. + +Seryozha, with radiant eyes and smiles, holding his mother by one +hand and his nurse by the other, pattered on the rug with his fat +little bare feet. The tenderness shown by his beloved nurse to +his mother threw him into an ecstasy. + +"Mother! She often comes to see me, and when she comes..." he +was beginning, but he stopped, noticing that the nurse was saying +something in a whisper to his mother, and that in his mother's +face there was a look of dread and something like shame, which +was so strangely unbecoming to her. + +She went up to him. + +"My sweet!" she said. + +She could not say _good-bye_, but the expression on her face said +it, and he understood. "Darling, darling Kootik!" she used the +name by which she had called him when he was little, "you won't +forget me? You..." but she could not say more. + +How often afterwards she thought of words she might have said. +But now she did not know how to say it, and could say nothing. +But Seryozha knew all she wanted to say to him. He understood +that she was unhappy and loved him. He understood even what the +nurse had whispered. He had caught the words "always at nine +o'clock," and he knew that this was said of his father, and that +his father and mother could not meet. That he understood, but +one thing he could not understand--why there should be a look of +dread and shame in her face?... She was not in fault, but she +was afraid of him and ashamed of something. He would have liked +to put a question that would have set at rest this doubt, but he +did not dare; he saw that she was miserable, and he felt for her. +Silently he pressed close to her and whispered, "Don't go yet. +He won't come just yet." + +The mother held him away from her to see what he was thinking, +what to say to him, and in his frightened face she read not only +that he was speaking of his father, but, as it were, asking her +what he ought to think about his father. + +"Seryozha, my darling," she said, "love him; he's better and +kinder than I am, and I have done him wrong. When you grow up +you will judge." + +"There's no one better than you!..." he cried in despair through +his tears, and, clutching her by the shoulders, he began +squeezing her with all his force to him, his arms trembling with +the strain. + +"My sweet, my little one!" said Anna, and she cried as weakly and +childishly as he. + +At that moment the door opened. Vassily Lukitch came in. + +At the other door there was the sound of steps, and the nurse in +a scared whisper said, "He's coming," and gave Anna her hat. + +Seryozha sank onto the bed and sobbed, hiding his face in his +hands. Anna removed his hands, once more kissed his wet face, +and with rapid steps went to the door. Alexey Alexandrovitch +walked in, meeting her. Seeing her, he stopped short and bowed +his head. + +Although she had just said he was better and kinder than she, in +the rapid glance she flung at him, taking in his whole figure in +all its details, feelings of repulsion and hatred for him and +jealousy over her son took possession of her. With a swift +gesture she put down her veil, and, quickening her pace, almost +ran out of the room. + +She had not time to undo, and so carried back with her, the +parcel of toys she had chosen the day before in a toy shop with +such love and sorrow. + + + +Chapter 31 + + +As intensely as Anna had longed to see her son, and long as she +had been thinking of it and preparing herself for it, she had +not in the least expected that seeing him would affect her so +deeply. On getting back to her lonely rooms in the hotel she +could not for a long while understand why she was there. "Yes, +it's all over, and I am again alone," she said to herself, and +without taking off her hat she sat down in a low chair by the +hearth. Fixing her eyes on a bronze clock standing on a table +between the windows, she tried to think. + +The French maid brought from abroad came in to suggest she should +dress. She gazed at her wonderingly and said, "Presently." A +footman offered her coffee. "Later on," she said. + +The Italian nurse, after having taken the baby out in her best, +came in with her, and brought her to Anna. The plump, well-fed +little baby, on seeing her mother, as she always did, held out +her fat little hands, and with a smile on her toothless mouth, +began, like a fish with a float, bobbing her fingers up and down +the starched folds of her embroidered skirt, making them rustle. +It was impossible not to smile, not to kiss the baby, impossible +not to hold out a finger for her to clutch, crowing and prancing +all over; impossible not to offer her a lip which she sucked into +her little mouth by way of a kiss. And all this Anna did, and +took her in her arms and made her dance, and kissed her fresh +little cheek and bare little elbows; but at the sight of this +child it was plainer than ever to her that the feeling she had +for her could not be called love in comparison with what she felt +for Seryozha. Everything in this baby was charming, but for some +reason all this did not go deep to her heart. On her first +child, though the child of an unloved father, had been +concentrated all the love that had never found satisfaction. Her +baby girl had been born in the most painful circumstances and had +not had a hundredth part of the care and thought which had been +concentrated on her first child. Besides, in the little girl +everything was still in the future, while Seryozha was by now +almost a personality, and a personality dearly loved. In him +there was a conflict of thought and feeling; he understood her, +he loved her, he judged her, she thought, recalling his words and +his eyes. And she was forever--not physically only but +spiritually--divided from him, and it was impossible to set this +right. + +She gave the baby back to the nurse, let her go, and opened the +locket in which there was Seryozha's portrait when he was almost +of the same age as the girl. She got up, and, taking off her +hat, took up from a little table an album in which there were +photographs of her son at different ages. She wanted to compare +them, and began taking them out of the album. She took them all +out except one, the latest and best photograph. In it he was in +a white smock, sitting astride a chair, with frowning eyes and +smiling lips. It was his best, most characteristic expression. +With her little supple hands, her white, delicate fingers, that +moved with a peculiar intensity today, she pulled at a corner of +the photograph, but the photograph had caught somewhere, and she +could not get it out. There was no paper knife on the table, and +so, pulling out the photograph that was next to her son's (it was +a photograph of Vronsky taken at Rome in a round hat and with +long hair), she used it to push out her son's photograph. "Oh, +here is he!" she said, glancing at the portrait of Vronsky, and +she suddenly recalled that he was the cause of her present +misery. She had not once thought of him all the morning. But +now, coming all at once upon that manly, noble face, so familiar +and so dear to her, she felt a sudden rush of love for him. + +"But where is he? How is it he leaves me alone in my misery?" +she thought all at once with a feeling of reproach, forgetting +she had herself kept from him everything concerning her son. She +sent to ask him to come to her immediately; with a throbbing +heart she awaited him, rehearsing to herself the words in which +she would tell him all, and the expressions of love with which he +would console her. The messenger returned with the answer that +he had a visitor with him, but that he would come immediately, +and that he asked whether she would let him bring with him Prince +Yashvin, who had just arrived in Petersburg. "He's not coming +alone, and since dinner yesterday he has not seen me," she +thought; "he's not coming so that I could tell him everything, +but coming with Yashvin." And all at once a strange idea came to +her: what if he had ceased to love her? + +And going over the events of the last few days, it seemed to her +that she saw in everything a confirmation of this terrible idea. +The fact that he had not dined at home yesterday, and the fact +that he had insisted on their taking separate sets of rooms in +Petersburg, and that even now he was not coming to her alone, as +though he were trying to avoid meeting her face to face. + +"But he ought to tell me so. I must know that it is so. If I +knew it, then I know what I should do," she said to herself, +utterly unable to picture to herself the position she would be in +if she were convinced of his not caring for her. She thought he +had ceased to love her, she felt close upon despair, and +consequently she felt exceptionally alert. She rang for her maid +and went to her dressing room. As she dressed, she took more +care over her appearance than she had done all those days, as +though he might, if he had grown cold to her, fall in love with +her again because she had dressed and arranged her hair in the +way most becoming to her. + +She heard the bell ring before she was ready. When she went into +the drawing room it was not he, but Yashvin, who met her eyes. +Vronsky was looking through the photographs of her son, which she +had forgotten on the table, and he made no haste to look round at +her. + +"We have met already," she said, putting her little hand into the +huge hand of Yashvin, whose bashfulness was so queerly out of +keeping with his immense frame and coarse face. "We met last +year at the races. Give them to me," she said, with a rapid +movement snatching from Vronsky the photographs of her son, and +glancing significantly at him with flashing eyes. "Were the +races good this year? Instead of them I saw the races in the +Corso in Rome. But you don't care for life abroad," she said +with a cordial smile. "I know you and all your tastes, though I +have seen so little of you." + +"I'm awfully sorry for that, for my tastes are mostly bad," said +Yashvin, gnawing at his left mustache. + +Having talked a little while, and noticing that Vronsky glanced +at the clock, Yashvin asked her whether she would be staying much +longer in Petersburg, and unbending his huge figure reached after +his cap. + +"Not long, I think," she said hesitatingly, glancing at Vronsky. + +"So then we shan't meet again?" + +"Come and dine with me," said Anna resolutely, angry it seemed +with herself for her embarrassment, but flushing as she always +did when she defined her position before a fresh person. "The +dinner here is not good, but at least you will see him. There is +no one of his old friends in the regiment Alexey cares for as he +does for you." + +"Delighted," said Yashvin with a smile, from which Vronsky could +see that he liked Anna very much. + +Yashvin said good-bye and went away; Vronsky stayed behind. + +"Are you going too?" she said to him. + +"I'm late already," he answered. "Run along! I'll catch you up +in a moment," he called to Yashvin. + +She took him by the hand, and without taking her eyes off him, +gazed at him while she ransacked her mind for the words to say +that would keep him. + +"Wait a minute, there's something I want to say to you," and +taking his broad hand she pressed it on her neck. "Oh, was it +right my asking him to dinner?" + +"You did quite right," he said with a serene smile that showed +his even teeth, and he kissed her hand. + +"Alexey, you have not changed to me?" she said, pressing his hand +in both of hers. "Alexey, I am miserable here. When are we +going away?" + +"Soon, soon. You wouldn't believe how disagreeable our way of +living here is to me too," he said, and he drew away his hand. + +"Well, go, go!" she said in a tone of offense, and she walked +quickly away from him. + + + +Chapter 32 + + +When Vronsky returned home, Anna was not yet home. Soon after he +had left, some lady, so they told him, had come to see her, and +she had gone out with her. That she had gone out without leaving +word where she was going, that she had not yet come back, and +that all the morning she had been going about somewhere without a +word to him--all this, together with the strange look of +excitement in her face in the morning, and the recollection of +the hostile tone with which she had before Yashvin almost +snatched her son's photographs out of his hands, made him +serious. He decided he absolutely must speak openly with her. +And he waited for her in her drawing room. But Anna did not +return alone, but brought with her her old unmarried aunt, +Princess Oblonskaya. This was the lady who had come in the +morning, and with whom Anna had gone out shopping. Anna appeared +not to notice Vronsky's worried and inquiring expression, and +began a lively account of her morning's shopping. He saw that +there was something working within her; in her flashing eyes, +when they rested for a moment on him, there was an intense +concentration, and in her words and movements there was that +nervous rapidity and grace which, during the early period of +their intimacy, had so fascinated him, but which now so disturbed +and alarmed him. + +The dinner was laid for four. All were gathered together and +about to go into the little dining room when Tushkevitch made his +appearance with a message from Princess Betsy. Princess Betsy +begged her to excuse her not having come to say good-bye; she had +been indisposed, but begged Anna to come to her between half-past +six and nine o'clock. Vronsky glanced at Anna at the precise +limit of time, so suggestive of steps having been taken that she +should meet no one; but Anna appeared not to notice it. + +"Very sorry that I can't come just between half-past six and +nine," she said with a faint smile. + +"The princess will be very sorry." + +"And so am I." + +"You're going, no doubt, to hear Patti?" said Tushkevitch. + +"Patti? You suggest the idea to me. I would go if it were +possible to get a box." + +"I can get one," Tushkevitch offered his services. + +"I should be very, very grateful to you," said Anna. "But won't +you dine with us?" + +Vronsky gave a hardly perceptible shrug. He was at a complete +loss to understand what Anna was about. What had she brought the +old Princess Oblonskaya home for, what had she made Tushkevitch +stay to dinner for, and, most amazing of all, why was she sending +him for a box? Could she possibly think in her position of going +to Patti's benefit, where all the circle of her acquaintances +would be? He looked at her with serious eyes, but she responded +with that defiant, half-mirthful, half-desperate look, the +meaning of which he could not comprehend. At dinner Anna was in +aggressively high spirits--she almost flirted both with +Tushkevitch and with Yashvin. When they got up from dinner and +Tushkevitch had gone to get a box at the opera, Yashvin went to +smoke, and Vronsky went down with him to his own rooms. After +sitting there for some time he ran upstairs. Anna was already +dressed in a low-necked gown of light silk and velvet that she +had had made in Paris, and with costly white lace on her head, +framing her face, and particularly becoming, showing up her +dazzling beauty. + +"Are you really going to the theater?" he said, trying not to +look at her. + +"Why do you ask with such alarm?" she said, wounded again at his +not looking at her. "Why shouldn't I go?" + +She appeared not to understand the motive of his words. + +"Oh, of course, there's no reason whatever," he said, frowning. + +"That's just what I say," she said, willfully refusing to see the +irony of his tone, and quietly turning back her long, perfumed +glove. + +"Anna, for God's sake! what is the matter with you?" he said, +appealing to her exactly as once her husband had done. + +"I don't understand what you are asking." + +"You know that it's out of the question to go." + +"Why so? I'm not going alone. Princess Varvara has gone to +dress, she is going with me." + +He shrugged his shoulders with an air of perplexity and despair. + +"But do you mean to say you don't know?..." he began. + +"But I don't care to know!" she almost shrieked. "I don't care +to. Do I regret what I have done? No, no, no! If it were all +to do again from the beginning, it would be the same. For us, +for you and for me, there is only one thing that matters, whether +we love each other. Other people we need not consider. Why are +we living here apart and not seeing each other? Why can't I go? +I love you, and I don't care for anything," she said in Russian, +glancing at him with a peculiar gleam in her eyes that he could +not understand. "If you have not changed to me, why don't you +look at me?" + +He looked at her. He saw all the beauty of her face and full +dress, always so becoming to her. But now her beauty and +elegance were just what irritated him. + +"My feeling cannot change, you know, but I beg you, I entreat +you," he said again in French, with a note of tender supplication +in his voice, but with coldness in his eyes. + +She did not hear his words, but she saw the coldness of his eyes, +and answered with irritation: + +"And I beg you to explain why I should not go." + +"Because it might cause you..." he hesitated. + +"I don't understand. Yashvin _n'est pas compromettant_, and +Princess Varvara is no worse than others. Oh, here she is!" + + + +Chapter 33 + + +Vronsky for the first time experienced a feeling of anger against +Anna, almost a hatred for her willfully refusing to understand +her own position. This feeling was aggravated by his being +unable to tell her plainly the cause of his anger. If he had +told her directly what he was thinking, he would have said: + +"In that dress, with a princess only too well known to everyone, +to show yourself at the theater is equivalent not merely to +acknowledging your position as a fallen woman, but is flinging +down a challenge to society, that is to say, cutting yourself off +from it forever." + +He could not say that to her. "But how can she fail to see it, +and what is going on in her?" he said to himself. He felt at the +same time that his respect for her was diminished while his sense +of her beauty was intensified. + +He went back scowling to his rooms, and sitting down beside +Yashvin, who, with his long legs stretched out on a chair, was +drinking brandy and seltzer water, he ordered a glass of the same +for himself. + +"You were talking of Lankovsky's Powerful. That's a fine horse, +and I would advise you to buy him," said Yashvin, glancing at +his comrade's gloomy face. "His hind-quarters aren't quite +first-rate, but the legs and head--one couldn't wish for anything +better." + +"I think I will take him," answered Vronsky. + +Their conversation about horses interested him, but he did not +for an instant forget Anna, and could not help listening to the +sound of steps in the corridor and looking at the clock on the +chimney piece. + +"Anna Arkadyevna gave orders to announce that she has gone to the +theater." + +Yashvin, tipping another glass of brandy into the bubbling water, +drank it and got up, buttoning his coat. + +"Well, let's go," he said, faintly smiling under his mustache, +and showing by this smile that he knew the cause of Vronsky's +gloominess, and did not attach any significance to it. + +"I'm not going," Vronsky answered gloomily. + +"Well, I must, I promised to. Good-bye, then. If you do, come +to the stalls; you can take Kruzin's stall," added Yashvin as he +went out. + +"No, I'm busy." + +"A wife is a care, but it's worse when she's not a wife," thought +Yashvin, as he walked out of the hotel. + +Vronsky, left alone, got up from his chair and began pacing up +and down the room. + +"And what's today? The fourth night.... Yegor and his wife are +there, and my mother, most likely. Of course all Petersburg's +there. Now she's gone in, taken off her cloak and come into the +light. Tushkevitch, Yashvin, Princess Varvara," he pictured them +to himself.... "What about me? Either that I'm frightened or +have given up to Tushkevitch the right to protect her? From +every point of view--stupid, stupid!... And why is she putting +me in such a position?" he said with a gesture of despair. + +With that gesture he knocked against the table, on which there +was standing the seltzer water and the decanter of brandy, and +almost upset it. He tried to catch it, let it slip, and angrily +kicked the table over and rang. + +"If you care to be in my service," he said to the valet who came +in, "you had better remember your duties. This shouldn't be +here. You ought to have cleared away." + +The valet, conscious of his own innocence, would have defended +himself, but glancing at his master, he saw from his face that +the only thing to do was to be silent, and hurriedly threading +his way in and out, dropped down on the carpet and began +gathering up the whole and broken glasses and bottles. + +"That's not your duty; send the waiter to clear away, and get my +dress coat out." + + +Vronsky went into the theater at half-past eight. The +performance was in full swing. The little old box-keeper, +recognizing Vronsky as he helped him off with his fur coat, +called him "Your Excellency," and suggested he should not take a +number but should simply call Fyodor. In the brightly lighted +corridor there was no one but the box-opener and two attendants +with fur cloaks on their arms listening at the doors. Through +the closed doors came the sounds of the discreet _staccato_ +accompaniment of the orchestra, and a single female voice +rendering distinctly a musical phrase. The door opened to let +the box-opener slip through, and the phrase drawing to the end +reached Vronsky's hearing clearly. But the doors were closed +again at once, and Vronsky did not hear the end of the phrase and +the cadence of the accompaniment, though he knew from the thunder +of applause that it was over. When he entered the hall, +brilliantly lighted with chandeliers and gas jets, the noise was +still going on. On the stage the singer, bowing and smiling, +with bare shoulders flashing with diamonds, was, with the help of +the tenor who had given her his arm, gathering up the bouquets +that were flying awkwardly over the footlights. Then she went up +to a gentleman with glossy pomaded hair parted down the center, +who was stretching across the footlights holding out something to +her, and all the public in the stalls as well as in the boxes was +in excitement, craning forward, shouting and clapping. The +conductor in his high chair assisted in passing the offering, and +straightened his white tie. Vronsky walked into the middle of +the stalls, and, standing still, began looking about him. That +day less than ever was his attention turned upon the familiar, +habitual surroundings, the stage, the noise, all the familiar, +uninteresting, particolored herd of spectators in the packed +theater. + +There were, as always, the same ladies of some sort with officers +of some sort in the back of the boxes; the same gaily dressed +women--God knows who--and uniforms and black coats; the same +dirty crowd in the upper gallery; and among the crowd, in the +boxes and in the front rows, were some forty of the _real_ people. +And to those oases Vronsky at once directed his attention, and +with them he entered at once into relation. + +The act was over when he went in, and so he did not go straight +to his brother's box, but going up to the first row of stalls +stopped at the footlights with Serpuhovskoy, who, standing with +one knee raised and his heel on the footlights, caught sight of +him in the distance and beckoned to him, smiling. + +Vronsky had not yet seen Anna. He purposely avoided looking in +her direction. But he knew by the direction of people's eyes +where she was. He looked round discreetly, but he was not +seeking her; expecting the worst, his eyes sought for Alexey +Alexandrovitch. To his relief Alexey Alexandrovitch was not in +the theater that evening. + +"How little of the military man there is left in you!" +Serpuhovskoy was saying to him. "A diplomat, an artist, +something of that sort, one would say." + +"Yes, it was like going back home when I put on a black coat," +answered Vronsky, smiling and slowly taking out his opera glass. + +"Well, I'll own I envy you there. When I come back from abroad +and put on this," he touched his epaulets, "I regret my +freedom." + +Serpuhovskoy had long given up all hope of Vronsky's career, but +he liked him as before, and was now particularly cordial to him. + +"What a pity you were not in time for the first act!" + +Vronsky, listening with one ear, moved his opera glass from the +stalls and scanned the boxes. Near a lady in a turban and a bald +old man, who seemed to wave angrily in the moving opera glass, +Vronsky suddenly caught sight of Anna's head, proud, strikingly +beautiful, and smiling in the frame of lace. She was in the +fifth box, twenty paces from him. She was sitting in front, and +slightly turning, was saying something to Yashvin. The setting +of her head on her handsome, broad shoulders, and the restrained +excitement and brilliance of her eyes and her whole face reminded +him of her just as he had seen her at the ball in Moscow. But he +felt utterly different towards her beauty now. In his feeling +for her now there was no element of mystery, and so her beauty, +though it attracted him even more intensely than before, gave him +now a sense of injury. She was not looking in his direction, but +Vronsky felt that she had seen him already. + +When Vronsky turned the opera glass again in that direction, he +noticed that Princess Varvara was particularly red, and kept +laughing unnaturally and looking round at the next box. Anna, +folding her fan and tapping it on the red velvet, was gazing away +and did not see, and obviously did not wish to see, what was +taking place in the next box. Yashvin's face wore the expression +which was common when he was losing at cards. Scowling, he +sucked the left end of his mustache further and further into his +mouth, and cast sidelong glances at the next box. + +In that box on the left were the Kartasovs. Vronsky knew them, +and knew that Anna was acquainted with them. Madame Kartasova, a +thin little woman, was standing up in her box, and, her back +turned upon Anna, she was putting on a mantle that her husband +was holding for her. Her face was pale and angry, and she was +talking excitedly. Kartasov, a fat, bald man, was continually +looking round at Anna, while he attempted to soothe his wife. +When the wife had gone out, the husband lingered a long while, +and tried to catch Anna's eye, obviously anxious to bow to her. +But Anna, with unmistakable intention, avoided noticing him, and +talked to Yashvin, whose cropped head was bent down to her. +Kartasov went out without making his salutation, and the box was +left empty. + +Vronsky could not understand exactly what had passed between the +Kartasovs and Anna, but he saw that something humiliating for +Anna had happened. He knew this both from what he had seen, and +most of all from the face of Anna, who, he could see, was taxing +every nerve to carry through the part she had taken up. And in +maintaining this attitude of external composure she was +completely successful. Anyone who did not know her and her +circle, who had not heard all the utterances of the women +expressive of commiseration, indignation, and amazement, that she +should show herself in society, and show herself so conspicuously +with her lace and her beauty, would have admired the serenity and +loveliness of this woman without a suspicion that she was +undergoing the sensations of a man in the stocks. + +Knowing that something had happened, but not knowing precisely +what, Vronsky felt a thrill of agonizing anxiety, and hoping to +find out something, he went towards his brother's box. Purposely +choosing the way round furthest from Anna's box, he jostled as he +came out against the colonel of his old regiment talking to two +acquaintances. Vronsky heard the name of Madame Karenina, and +noticed how the colonel hastened to address Vronsky loudly by +name, with a meaning glance at his companions. + +"Ah, Vronsky! When are you coming to the regiment? We can't let +you off without a supper. You're one of the old set," said the +colonel of his regiment. + +"I can't stop, awfully sorry, another time," said Vronsky, and +he ran upstairs towards his brother's box. + +The old countess, Vronsky's mother, with her steel-gray curls, +was in his brother's box. Varya with the young Princess Sorokina +met him in the corridor. + +Leaving the Princess Sorokina with her mother, Varya held out her +hand to her brother-in-law, and began immediately to speak of +what interested him. She was more excited than he had ever seen +her. + +"I think it's mean and hateful, and Madame Kartasova had no +right to do it. Madame Karenina..." she began. + +"But what is it? I don't know." + +"What? you've not heard?" + +"You know I should be the last person to hear of it." + +"There isn't a more spiteful creature than that Madame +Kartasova!" + +"But what did she do?" + +"My husband told me.... She has insulted Madame Karenina. Her +husband began talking to her across the box, and Madame Kartasova +made a scene. She said something aloud, he says, something +insulting, and went away." + +"Count, your maman is asking for you," said the young Princess +Sorokina, peeping out of the door of the box. + +"I've been expecting you all the while," said his mother, smiling +sarcastically. "You were nowhere to be seen." + +Her son saw that she could not suppress a smile of delight. + +"Good evening, maman. I have come to you," he said coldly. + +"Why aren't you going to _faire la cour a Madame Karenina_?" she +went on, when Princess Sorokina had moved away. "_Elle fait +sensation. On oublie la Patti pour elle_." + +"Maman, I have asked you not to say anything to me of that," he +answered, scowling. + +"I'm only saying what everyone's saying." + +Vronsky made no reply, and saying a few words to Princess +Sorokina, he went away. At the door he met his brother. + +"Ah, Alexey!" said his brother. "How disgusting! Idiot of a +woman, nothing else.... I wanted to go straight to her. Let's +go together." + +Vronsky did not hear him. With rapid steps he went downstairs; +he felt that he must do something, but he did not know what. +Anger with her for having put herself and him in such a false +position, together with pity for her suffering, filled his heart. +He went down, and made straight for Anna's box. At her box stood +Stremov, talking to her. + +"There are no more tenors. _Le moule en est brise!_" + +Vronsky bowed to her and stopped to greet Stremov. + +"You came in late, I think, and have missed the best song," Anna +said to Vronsky, glancing ironically, he thought, at him. + +"I am a poor judge of music," he said, looking sternly at her. + +"Like Prince Yashvin," she said smiling, "who considers that +Patti sings too loud." + +"Thank you," she said, her little hand in its long glove taking +the playbill Vronsky picked up, and suddenly at that instant her +lovely face quivered. She got up and went into the interior of +the box. + +Noticing in the next act that her box was empty, Vronsky, rousing +indignant "hushes" in the silent audience, went out in the middle +of a solo and drove home. + +Anna was already at home. When Vronsky went up to her, she was +in the same dress as she had worn at the theater. She was +sitting in the first armchair against the wall, looking straight +before her. She looked at him, and at once resumed her former +position. + +"Anna," he said. + +"You, you are to blame for everything!" she cried, with tears of +despair and hatred in her voice, getting up. + +"I begged, I implored you not to go, I knew it would be +unpleasant...." + +"Unpleasant!" she cried--"hideous! As long as I live I shall +never forget it. She said it was a disgrace to sit beside me." + +"A silly woman's chatter," he said: "but why risk it, why +provoke?..." + +"I hate your calm. You ought not to have brought me to this. If +you had loved me..." + +"Anna! How does the question of my love come in?" + +"Oh, if you loved me, as I love, if you were tortured as I +am!..." she said, looking at him with an expression of terror. + +He was sorry for her, and angry notwithstanding. He assured her +of his love because he saw that this was the only means of +soothing her, and he did not reproach her in words, but in his +heart he reproached her. + +And the asseverations of his love, which seemed to him so vulgar +that he was ashamed to utter them, she drank in eagerly, and +gradually became calmer. The next day, completely reconciled, +they left for the country. + + + + +PART 6 + + + + +Chapter 1 + + + +Darya Alexandrovna spent the summer with her children at +Pokrovskoe, at her sister Kitty Levin's. The house on her own +estate was quite in ruins, and Levin and his wife had persuaded +her to spend the summer with them. Stepan Arkadyevitch greatly +approved of the arrangement. He said he was very sorry his +official duties prevented him from spending the summer in the +country with his family, which would have been the greatest +happiness for him; and remaining in Moscow, he came down to the +country from time to time for a day or two. Besides the +Oblonskys, with all their children and their governess, the old +princess too came to stay that summer with the Levins, as she +considered it her duty to watch over her inexperienced daughter in +her _interesting condition_. Moreover, Varenka, Kitty's friend +abroad, kept her promise to come to Kitty when she was married, +and stayed with her friend. All of these were friends or +relations of Levin's wife. And though he liked them all, he +rather regretted his own Levin world and ways, which was +smothered by this influx of the "Shtcherbatsky element," as he +called it to himself. Of his own relations there stayed with him +only Sergey Ivanovitch, but he too was a man of the Koznishev and +not the Levin stamp, so that the Levin spirit was utterly +obliterated. + +In the Levins' house, so long deserted, there were now so many +people that almost all the rooms were occupied, and almost every +day it happened that the old princess, sitting down to table, +counted them all over, and put the thirteenth grandson or +granddaughter at a separate table. And Kitty, with her careful +housekeeping, had no little trouble to get all the chickens, +turkeys, and geese, of which so many were needed to satisfy the +summer appetites of the visitors and children. + +The whole family were sitting at dinner. Dolly's children, with +their governess and Varenka, were making plans for going to look +for mushrooms. Sergey Ivanovitch, who was looked up to by all +the party for his intellect and learning, with a respect that +almost amounted to awe, surprised everyone by joining in the +conversation about mushrooms. + +"Take me with you. I am very fond of picking mushrooms," he +said, looking at Varenka; "I think it's a very nice occupation." + +"Oh, we shall be delighted," answered Varenka, coloring a little. +Kitty exchanged meaningful glances with Dolly. The proposal of +the learned and intellectual Sergey Ivanovitch to go looking for +mushrooms with Varenka confirmed certain theories of Kitty's with +which her mind had been very busy of late. She made haste to +address some remark to her mother, so that her look should not be +noticed. After dinner Sergey Ivanovitch sat with his cup of +coffee at the drawing-room window, and while he took part in a +conversation he had begun with his brother, he watched the door +through which the children would start on the mushroom-picking +expedition. Levin was sitting in the window near his brother. + +Kitty stood beside her husband, evidently awaiting the end of a +conversation that had no interest for her, in order to tell him +something. + +"You have changed in many respects since your marriage, and for +the better," said Sergey Ivanovitch, smiling to Kitty, and +obviously little interested in the conversation, "but you have +remained true to your passion for defending the most paradoxical +theories." + +"Katya, it's not good for you to stand," her husband said to her, +putting a chair for her and looking significantly at her. + +"Oh, and there's no time either," added Sergey Ivanovitch, seeing +the children running out. + +At the head of them all Tanya galloped sideways, in her tightly- +drawn stockings, and waving a basket and Sergey Ivanovitch's hat, +she ran straight up to him. + +Boldly running up to Sergey Ivanovitch with shining eyes, so like +her father's fine eyes, she handed him his hat and made as though +she would put it on for him, softening her freedom by a shy and +friendly smile. + +"Varenka's waiting," she said, carefully putting his hat on, +seeing from Sergey Ivanovitch's smile that she might do so. + +Varenka was standing at the door, dressed in a yellow print gown, +with a white kerchief on her head. + +"I'm coming, I'm coming, Varvara Andreevna," said Sergey +Ivanovitch, finishing his cup of coffee, and putting into their +separate pockets his handkerchief and cigar-case. + +"And how sweet my Varenka is! eh?" said Kitty to her husband, as +soon as Sergey Ivanovitch rose. She spoke so that Sergey +Ivanovitch could hear, and it was clear that she meant him to do +so. "And how good-looking she is--such a refined beauty! +Varenka!" Kitty shouted. "Shall you be in the mill copse? We'll +come out to you." + +"You certainly forget your condition, Kitty," said the old +princess, hurriedly coming out at the door. "You mustn't shout +like that." + +Varenka, hearing Kitty's voice and her mother's reprimand, went +with light, rapid steps up to Kitty. The rapidity of her +movement, her flushed and eager face, everything betrayed that +something out of the common was going on in her. Kitty knew what +this was, and had been watching her intently. She called Varenka +at that moment merely in order mentally to give her a blessing +for the important event which, as Kitty fancied, was bound to +come to pass that day after dinner in the wood. + +"Varenka, I should be very happy if a certain something were to +happen," she whispered as she kissed her. + +"And are you coming with us?" Varenka said to Levin in confusion, +pretending not to have heard what had been said. + +"I am coming, but only as far as the threshing-floor, and there I +shall stop." + +"Why, what do you want there?" said Kitty. + +"I must go to have a look at the new wagons, and to check the +invoice," said Levin; "and where will you be?" + +"On the terrace." + + + +Chapter 2 + + +On the terrace were assembled all the ladies of the party. They +always liked sitting there after dinner, and that day they had +work to do there too. Besides the sewing and knitting of +baby clothes, with which all of them were busy, that afternoon +jam was being made on the terrace by a method new to Agafea +Mihalovna, without the addition of water. Kitty had introduced +this new method, which had been in use in her home. Agafea +Mihalovna, to whom the task of jam-making had always been +intrusted, considering that what had been done in the Levin +household could not be amiss, had nevertheless put water with the +strawberries, maintaining that the jam could not be made without +it. She had been caught in the act, and was now making jam +before everyone, and it was to be proved to her conclusively that +jam could be very well made without water. + +Agafea Mihalovna, her face heated and angry, her hair untidy, and +her thin arms bare to the elbows, was turning the preserving-pan +over the charcoal stove, looking darkly at the raspberries and +devoutly hoping they would stick and not cook properly. The +princess, conscious that Agafea Mihalovna's wrath must be chiefly +directed against her, as the person responsible for the raspberry +jam-making, tried to appear to be absorbed in other things and +not interested in the jam, talked of other matters, but cast +stealthy glances in the direction of the stove. + +"I always buy my maids' dresses myself, of some cheap material," +the princess said, continuing the previous conversation. "Isn't +it time to skim it, my dear?" she added, addressing Agafea +Mihalovna. "There's not the slightest need for you to do it, and +it's hot for you," she said, stopping Kitty. + +"I'll do it," said Dolly, and getting up, she carefully passed +the spoon over the frothing sugar, and from time to time shook +off the clinging jam from the spoon by knocking it on a plate +that was covered with yellow-red scum and blood-colored syrup. +"How they'll enjoy this at tea-time!" she thought of her +children, remembering how she herself as a child had wondered how +it was the grown-up people did not eat what was best of all--the +scum of the jam. + +"Stiva says it's much better to give money." Dolly took up +meanwhile the weighty subject under discussion, what presents +should be made to servants. "But..." + +"Money's out of the question!" the princess and Kitty exclaimed +with one voice. "They appreciate a present..." + +"Well, last year, for instance, I bought our Matrona Semyenovna, +not a poplin, but something of that sort," said the princess. + +"I remember she was wearing it on your nameday." + +"A charming pattern--so simple and refined,--I should have liked +it myself, if she hadn't had it. Something like Varenka's. So +pretty and inexpensive." + +"Well, now I think it's done," said Dolly, dropping the syrup +from the spoon. + +"When it sets as it drops, it's ready. Cook it a little longer, +Agafea Mihalovna." + +"The flies!" said Agafea Mihalovna angrily. "It'll be just the +same," she added. + +"Ah! how sweet it is! don't frighten it!" Kitty said suddenly, +looking at a sparrow that had settled on the step and was pecking +at the center of a raspberry. + +"Yes, but you keep a little further from the stove," said her +mother. + +"_A propos de Varenka_," said Kitty, speaking in French, as they +had been doing all the while, so that Agafea Mihalovna should not +understand them, "you know, mamma, I somehow expect things to be +settled today. You know what I mean. How splendid it would be!" + +"But what a famous matchmaker she is!" said Dolly. "How +carefully and cleverly she throws them together!..." + +"No; tell me, mamma, what do you think?" + +"Why, what is one to think? He" (_he_ meant Sergey Ivanovitch) +"might at any time have been a match for anyone in Russia; now, +of course, he's not quite a young man, still I know ever so many +girls would be glad to marry him even now.... She's a very nice +girl, but he might..." + +"Oh, no, mamma, do understand why, for him and for her too, +nothing better could be imagined. In the first place, she's +charming!" said Kitty, crooking one of her fingers. + +"He thinks her very attractive, that's certain," assented Dolly. + +"Then he occupies such a position in society that he has no need +to look for either fortune or position in his wife. All he needs +is a good, sweet wife--a restful one." + +"Well, with her he would certainly be restful," Dolly assented. + +"Thirdly, that she should love him. And so it is...that is, +it would be so splendid!...I look forward to seeing them +coming out of the forest--and everything settled. I shall see at +once by their eyes. I should be so delighted! What do you +think, Dolly?" + +"But don't excite yourself. It's not at all the thing for you to +be excited," said her mother. + +"Oh, I'm not excited, mamma. I fancy he will make her an offer +today." + +"Ah, that's so strange, how and when a man makes an offer!... +There is a sort of barrier, and all at once it's broken down," +said Dolly, smiling pensively and recalling her past with Stepan +Arkadyevitch. + +"Mamma, how did papa make you an offer?" Kitty asked suddenly. + +"There was nothing out of the way, it was very simple," answered +the princess, but her face beamed all over at the recollection. + +"Oh, but how was it? You loved him, anyway, before you were +allowed to speak?" + +Kitty felt a peculiar pleasure in being able now to talk to her +mother on equal terms about those questions of such paramount +interest in a woman's life. + +"Of course I did; he had come to stay with us in the country." + +"But how was it settled between you, mamma?" + +"You imagine, I dare say, that you invented something quite new? +It's always just the same: it was settled by the eyes, by +smiles..." + +"How nicely you said that, mamma! It's just by the eyes, by +smiles that it's done," Dolly assented. + +"But what words did he say?" + +"What did Kostya say to you?" + +"He wrote it in chalk. It was wonderful.... How long ago it +seems!" she said. + +And the three women all fell to musing on the same thing. Kitty +was the first to break the silence. She remembered all that last +winter before her marriage, and her passion for Vronsky. + +"There's one thing ...that old love affair of Varenka's," she +said, a natural chain of ideas bringing her to this point. "I +should have liked to say something to Sergey Ivanovitch, to +prepare him. They're all--all men, I mean," she added, "awfully +jealous over our past." + +"Not all," said Dolly. "You judge by your own husband. It makes +him miserable even now to remember Vronsky. Eh? that's true, +isn't it?" + +"Yes," Kitty answered, a pensive smile in her eyes. + +"But I really don't know," the mother put in in defense of her +motherly care of her daughter, "what there was in your past that +could worry him? That Vronsky paid you attentions--that happens +to every girl." + +"Oh, yes, but we didn't mean that," Kitty said, flushing a +little. + +"No, let me speak," her mother went on, "why, you yourself would +not let me have a talk to Vronsky. Don't you remember?" + +"Oh, mamma!" said Kitty, with an expression of suffering. + +"There's no keeping you young people in check nowadays.... Your +friendship could not have gone beyond what was suitable. I +should myself have called upon him to explain himself. But, my +darling, it's not right for you to be agitated. Please remember +that, and calm yourself." + +"I'm perfectly calm, maman." + +"How happy it was for Kitty that Anna came then," said Dolly, +"and how unhappy for her. It turned out quite the opposite," she +said, struck by her own ideas. "Then Anna was so happy, and +Kitty thought herself unhappy. Now it is just the opposite. I +often think of her." + +"A nice person to think about! Horrid, repulsive woman--no +heart," said her mother, who could not forget that Kitty had +married not Vronsky, but Levin. + +"What do you want to talk of it for?" Kitty said with annoyance. +"I never think about it, and I don't want to think of it.... +And I don't want to think of it," she said, catching the sound of +her husband's well-known step on the steps of the terrace. + +"What's that you don't want to think about?" inquired Levin, +coming onto the terrace. + +But no one answered him, and he did not repeat the question. + +"I'm sorry I've broken in on your feminine parliament," he said, +looking round on every one discontentedly, and perceiving that +they had been talking of something which they would not talk +about before him. + +For a second he felt that he was sharing the feeling of Agafea +Mihalovna, vexation at their making jam without water, and +altogether at the outside Shtcherbatsky element. He smiled, +however, and went up to Kitty. + +"Well, how are you?" he asked her, looking at her with the +expression with which everyone looked at her now. + +"Oh, very well," said Kitty, smiling, "and how have things gone +with you?" + +"The wagons held three times as much as the old carts did. Well, +are we going for the children? I've ordered the horses to be put +in." + +"What! you want to take Kitty in the wagonette?" her mother said +reproachfully. + +"Yes, at a walking pace, princess." + +Levin never called the princess "maman" as men often do call +their mothers-in-law, and the princess disliked his not doing so. +But though he liked and respected the princess, Levin could not +call her so without a sense of profaning his feeling for his dead +mother. + +"Come with us, maman," said Kitty. + +"I don't like to see such imprudence." + +"Well, I'll walk then, I'm so well." Kitty got up and went to her +husband and took his hand. + +"You may be well, but everything in moderation," said the +princess. + +"Well, Agafea Mihalovna, is the jam done?" said Levin, smiling to +Agafea Mihalovna, and trying to cheer her up. "Is it all right +in the new way?" + +"I suppose it's all right. For our notions it's boiled too +long." + +"It'll be all the better, Agafea Mihalovna, it won't mildew, even +though our ice has begun to thaw already, so that we've no cool +cellar to store it," said Kitty, at once divining her husband's +motive, and addressing the old housekeeper with the same feeling; +"but your pickle's so good, that mamma says she never tasted any +like it," she added, smiling, and putting her kerchief straight. + +Agafea Mihalovna looked angrily at Kitty. + +"You needn't try to console me, mistress. I need only to look at +you with him, and I feel happy," she said, and something in the +rough familiarity of that _with him_ touched Kitty. + +"Come along with us to look for mushrooms, you will show us the +best places." Agafea Mihalovna smiled and shook her head, as +though to say: "I should like to be angry with you too, but I +can't." + +"Do it, please, by my receipt," said the princess; "put some +paper over the jam, and moisten it with a little rum, and without +even ice, it will never go mildewy." + + + +Chapter 3 + + + +Kitty was particularly glad of a chance of being alone with her +husband, for she had noticed the shade of mortification that +had passed over his face--always so quick to reflect every +feeling--at the moment when he had come onto the terrace and +asked what they were talking of, and had got no answer. + +When they had set off on foot ahead of the others, and had come +out of sight of the house onto the beaten dusty road, marked with +rusty wheels and sprinkled with grains of corn, she clung faster +to his arm and pressed it closer to her. He had quite forgotten +the momentary unpleasant impression, and alone with her he felt, +now that the thought of her approaching motherhood was never for +a moment absent from his mind, a new and delicious bliss, quite +pure from all alloy of sense, in the being near to the woman he +loved. There was no need of speech, yet he longed to hear the +sound of her voice, which like her eyes had changed since she had +been with child. In her voice, as in her eyes, there was that +softness and gravity which is found in people continually +concentrated on some cherished pursuit. + +"So you're not tired? Lean more on me," said he. + +"No, I'm so glad of a chance of being alone with you, and I must +own, though I'm happy with them, I do regret our winter evenings +alone." + +"That was good, but this is even better. Both are better," he +said, squeezing her hand. + +"Do you know what we were talking about when you came in?" + +"About jam?" + +"Oh, yes, about jam too; but afterwards, about how men make +offers." + +"Ah!" said Levin, listening more to the sound of her voice than +to the words she was saying, and all the while paying attention +to the road, which passed now through the forest, and avoiding +places where she might make a false step. + +"And about Sergey Ivanovitch and Varenka. You've noticed?... +I'm very anxious for it," she went on. "What do you think about +it?" And she peeped into his face. + +"I don't know what to think," Levin answered, smiling. "Sergey +seems very strange to me in that way. I told you, you know..." + +"Yes, that he was in love with that girl who died...." + +"That was when I was a child; I know about it from hearsay and +tradition. I remember him then. He was wonderfully sweet. But +I've watched him since with women; he is friendly, some of them +he likes, but one feels that to him they're simply people, not +women." + +"Yes, but now with Varenka...I fancy there's something..." + +"Perhaps there is.... But one has to know him.... He's a +peculiar, wonderful person. He lives a spiritual life only. +He's too pure, too exalted a nature." + +"Why? Would this lower him, then?" + +"No, but he's so used to a spiritual life that he can't reconcile +himself with actual fact, and Varenka is after all fact." + +Levin had grown used by now to uttering his thought boldly, +without taking the trouble of clothing it in exact language. He +knew that his wife, in such moments of loving tenderness as now, +would understand what he meant to say from a hint, and she did +understand him. + +"Yes, but there's not so much of that actual fact about her as +about me. I can see that he would never have cared for me. She +is altogether spiritual." + +"Oh, no, he is so fond of you, and I am always so glad when my +people like you...." + +"Yes, he's very nice to me; but..." + +"It's not as it was with poor Nikolay...you really cared for +each other," Levin finished. "Why not speak of him?" he added. +"I sometimes blame myself for not; it ends in one's forgetting. +Ah, how terrible and dear he was!... Yes, what were we talking +about?" Levin said, after a pause. + +"You think he can't fall in love," said Kitty, translating into +her own language. + +"It's not so much that he can't fall in love," Levin said, +smiling, "but he has not the weakness necessary.... I've always +envied him, and even now, when I'm so happy, I still envy him." + +"You envy him for not being able to fall in love?" + +"I envy him for being better than I," said Levin. "He does not +live for himself. His whole life is subordinated to his duty. +And that's why he can be calm and contented." + +"And you?" Kitty asked, with an ironical and loving smile. + +She could never have explained the chain of thought that made her +smile; but the last link in it was that her husband, in exalting +his brother and abasing himself, was not quite sincere. Kitty +knew that this insincerity came from his love for his brother, +from his sense of shame at being too happy, and above all from +his unflagging craving to be better--she loved it in him, and so +she smiled. + +"And you? What are you dissatisfied with?" she asked, with the +same smile. + +Her disbelief in his self-dissatisfaction delighted him, and +unconsciously he tried to draw her into giving utterance to the +grounds of her disbelief. + +"I am happy, but dissatisfied with myself..." he said. + +"Why, how can you be dissatisfied with yourself if you are +happy?" + +"Well, how shall I say?... In my heart I really care for nothing +whatever but that you should not stumble--see? Oh, but really +you mustn't skip about like that!" he cried, breaking off to +scold her for too agile a movement in stepping over a branch that +lay in the path. "But when I think about myself, and compare +myself with others, especially with my brother, I feel I'm a poor +creature." + +"But in what way?" Kitty pursued with the same smile. "Don't you +too work for others? What about your co-operative settlement, +and your work on the estate, and your book?..." + +"Oh, but I feel, and particularly just now--it's your fault," he +said, pressing her hand--"that all that doesn't count. I do it +in a way halfheartedly. If I could care for all that as I care +for you!... Instead of that, I do it in these days like a task +that is set me." + +"Well, what would you say about papa?" asked Kitty. "Is he a +poor creature then, as he does nothing for the public good?" + +"He?--no! But then one must have the simplicity, the +straightforwardness, the goodness of your father: and I haven't +got that. I do nothing, and I fret about it. It's all your +doing. Before there was you--and _this_ too," he added with a +glance towards her waist that she understood--"I put all my +energies into work; now I can't, and I'm ashamed; I do it just as +though it were a task set me, I'm pretending...." + +"Well, but would you like to change this minute with Sergey +Ivanovitch?" said Kitty. "Would you like to do this work for the +general good, and to love the task set you, as he does, and +nothing else?" + +"Of course not," said Levin. "But I'm so happy that I don't +understand anything. So you think he'll make her an offer +today?" he added after a brief silence. + +"I think so, and I don't think so. Only, I'm awfully anxious for +it. Here, wait a minute." She stooped down and picked a wild +camomile at the edge of the path. "Come, count: he does propose, +he doesn't," she said, giving him the flower. + +"He does, he doesn't," said Levin, tearing off the white petals. + +"No, no!" Kitty, snatching at his hand, stopped him. She had +been watching his fingers with interest. "You picked off two." + +"Oh, but see, this little one shan't count to make up," said +Levin, tearing off a little half-grown petal. "Here's the +wagonette overtaking us." + +"Aren't you tired, Kitty?" called the princess. + +"Not in the least." + +"If you are you can get in, as the horses are quiet and walking." + +But it was not worth while to get in, they were quite near the +place, and all walked on together. + + +Chapter 4 + +Varenka, with her white kerchief on her black hair, surrounded +by the children, gaily and good-humoredly looking after them, and +at the same time visibly excited at the possibility of receiving +a declaration from the man she cared for, was very attractive. +Sergey Ivanovitch walked beside her, and never left off admiring +her. Looking at her, he recalled all the delightful things he +had heard from her lips, all the good he knew about her, and +became more and more conscious that the feeling he had for her +was something special that he had felt long, long ago, and only +once, in his early youth. The feeling of happiness in being near +her continually grew, and at last reached such a point that, as +he put a huge, slender-stalked agaric fungus in her basket, he +looked straight into her face, and noticing the flush of glad and +alarmed excitement that overspread her face, he was confused +himself, and smiled to her in silence a smile that said too much. + +"If so," he said to himself, "I ought to think it over and make +up my mind, and not give way like a boy to the impulse of a +moment." + +"I'm going to pick by myself apart from all the rest, or else my +efforts will make no show," he said, and he left the edge of the +forest where they were walking on low silky grass between old +birch trees standing far apart, and went more into the heart of +the wood, where between the white birch trunks there were gray +trunks of aspen and dark bushes of hazel. Walking some forty +paces away, Sergey Ivanovitch, knowing he was out of sight, stood +still behind a bushy spindle-tree in full flower with its rosy +red catkins. It was perfectly still all round him. Only +overhead in the birches under which he stood, the flies, like a +swarm of bees, buzzed unceasingly, and from time to time the +children's voices were floated across to him. All at once he +heard, not far from the edge of the wood, the sound of Varenka's +contralto voice, calling Grisha, and a smile of delight passed +over Sergey Ivanovitch's face. Conscious of this smile, he shook +his head disapprovingly at his own condition, and taking out a +cigar, he began lighting it. For a long while he could not get a +match to light against the trunk of a birch tree. The soft +scales of the white bark rubbed off the phosphorus, and the light +went out. At last one of the matches burned, and the fragrant +cigar smoke, hovering uncertainly in flat, wide coils, stretched +away forwards and upwards over a bush under the overhanging +branches of a birch tree. Watching the streak of smoke, Sergey +Ivanovitch walked gently on, deliberating on his position. + +"Why not?" he thought. "If it were only a passing fancy or a +passion, if it were only this attraction--this mutual attraction +(I can call it a _mutual_ attraction), but if I felt that it was +in contradiction with the whole bent of my life--if I felt that +in giving way to this attraction I should be false to my vocation +and my duty...but it's not so. The only thing I can say +against it is that, when I lost Marie, I said to myself that I +would remain faithful to her memory. That's the only thing I can +say against my feeling.... That's a great thing," Sergey +Ivanovitch said to himself, feeling at the same time that this +consideration had not the slightest importance for him +personally, but would only perhaps detract from his romantic +character in the eyes of others. "But apart from that, however +much I searched, I should never find anything to say against my +feeling. If I were choosing by considerations of suitability +alone, I could not have found anything better." + +However many women and girls he thought of whom he knew, he could +not think of a girl who united to such a degree all, positively +all, the qualities he would wish to see in his wife. She had all +the charm and freshness of youth, but she was not a child; and if +she loved him, she loved him consciously as a woman ought to +love; that was one thing. Another point: she was not only far +from being worldly, but had an unmistakable distaste for worldly +society, and at the same time she knew the world, and had all the +ways of a woman of the best society, which were absolutely +essential to Sergey Ivanovitch's conception of the woman who was +to share his life. Thirdly: she was religious, and not like a +child, unconsciously religious and good, as Kitty, for example, +was, but her life was founded on religious principles. Even in +trifling matters, Sergey Ivanovitch found in her all that he +wanted in his wife: she was poor and alone in the world, so she +would not bring with her a mass of relations and their influence +into her husband's house, as he saw now in Kitty's case. She +would owe everything to her husband, which was what he had always +desired too for his future family life. And this girl, who +united all these qualities, loved him. He was a modest man, but +he could not help seeing it. And he loved her. There was one +consideration against it--his age. But he came of a long-lived +family, he had not a single gray hair, no one would have taken +him for forty, and he remembered Varenka's saying that it was +only in Russia that men of fifty thought themselves old, and that +in France a man of fifty considers himself _dans la force de +l'age_, while a man of forty is _un jeune homme_. But what did +the mere reckoning of years matter when he felt as young in heart +as he had been twenty years ago? Was it not youth to feel as he +felt now, when coming from the other side to the edge of the wood +he saw in the glowing light of the slanting sunbeams the gracious +figure of Varenka in her yellow gown with her basket, walking +lightly by the trunk of an old birch tree, and when this +impression of the sight of Varenka blended so harmoniously with +the beauty of the view, of the yellow oatfield lying bathed in +the slanting sunshine, and beyond it the distant ancient forest +flecked with yellow and melting into the blue of the distance? +His heart throbbed joyously. A softened feeling came over him. +He felt that he had made up his mind. Varenka, who had just +crouched down to pick a mushroom, rose with a supple movement and +looked round. Flinging away the cigar, Sergey Ivanovitch +advanced with resolute steps towards her. + + +Chapter 5 + + +"Varvara Andreevna, when I was very young, I set before myself +the ideal of the woman I loved and should be happy to call my +wife. I have lived through a long life, and now for the first +time I have met what I sought--in you. I love you, and offer you +my hand." + +Sergey Ivanovitch was saying this to himself while he was ten +paces from Varvara. Kneeling down, with her hands over the +mushrooms to guard them from Grisha, she was calling little +Masha. + +"Come here, little ones! There are so many!" she was saying in +her sweet, deep voice. + +Seeing Sergey Ivanovitch approaching, she did not get up and did +not change her position, but everything told him that she felt +his presence and was glad of it. + +"Well, did you find some?" she asked from under the white +kerchief, turning her handsome, gently smiling face to him. + +"Not one," said Sergey Ivanovitch. "Did you?" + +She did not answer, busy with the children who thronged about +her. + +"That one too, near the twig," she pointed out to little Masha a +little fungus, split in half across its rosy cap by the dry grass +from under which it thrust itself. Varenka got up while Masha +picked the fungus, breaking it into two white halves. "This +brings back my childhood," she added, moving apart from the +children beside Sergey Ivanovitch. + +They walked on for some steps in silence. Varenka saw that he +wanted to speak; she guessed of what, and felt faint with joy and +panic. They had walked so far away that no one could hear them +now, but still he did not begin to speak. It would have been +better for Varenka to be silent. After a silence it would have +been easier for them to say what they wanted to say than after +talking about mushrooms. But against her own will, as it were +accidentally, Varenka said: + +"So you found nothing? In the middle of the wood there are +always fewer, though." Sergey Ivanovitch sighed and made no +answer. He was annoyed that she had spoken about the mushrooms. +He wanted to bring her back to the first words she had uttered +about her childhood; but after a pause of some length, as though +against his own will, he made an observation in response to her +last words. + +"I have heard that the white edible funguses are found +principally at the edge of the wood, though I can't tell them +apart." + +Some minutes more passed, they moved still further away from the +children, and were quite alone. Varenka's heart throbbed so that +she heard it beating, and felt that she was turning red and pale +and red again. + +To be the wife of a man like Koznishev, after her position with +Madame Stahl, was to her imagination the height of happiness. +Besides, she was almost certain that she was in love with him. +And this moment it would have to be decided. She felt +frightened. She dreaded both his speaking and his not speaking. + +Now or never it must be said--that Sergey Ivanovitch felt too. +Everything in the expression, the flushed cheeks and the downcast +eyes of Varenka betrayed a painful suspense. Sergey Ivanovitch +saw it and felt sorry for her. He felt even that to say nothing +now would be a slight to her. Rapidly in his own mind he ran +over all the arguments in support of his decision. He even said +over to himself the words in which he meant to put his offer, but +instead of those words, some utterly unexpected reflection that +occurred to him made him ask: + +"What is the difference between the 'birch' mushroom and the +'white' mushroom?" + +Varenka's lips quivered with emotion as she answered: + +"In the top part there is scarcely any difference, it's in the +stalk." + +And as soon as these words were uttered, both he and she felt +that it was over, that what was to have been said would not be +said; and their emotion, which had up to then been continually +growing more intense, began to subside. + +"The birch mushroom's stalk suggests a dark man's chin after two +days without shaving," said Sergey Ivanovitch, speaking quite +calmly now. + +"Yes, that's true," answered Varenka smiling, and unconsciously +the direction of their walk changed. They began to turn towards +the children. Varenka felt both sore and ashamed; at the same +time she had a sense of relief. + +When he had got home again and went over the whole subject, +Sergey Ivanovitch thought his previous decision had been a +mistaken one. He could not be false to the memory of Marie. + +"Gently, children, gently!" Levin shouted quite angrily to the +children, standing before his wife to protect her when the crowd +of children flew with shrieks of delight to meet them. + +Behind the children Sergey Ivanovitch and Varenka walked out of +the wood. Kitty had no need to ask Varenka; she saw from the +calm and somewhat crestfallen faces of both that her plans had +not come off. + +"Well?" her husband questioned her as they were going home again. + +"It doesn't bite," said Kitty, her smile and manner of speaking +recalling her father, a likeness Levin often noticed with +pleasure. + +"How doesn't bite?" + +"I'll show you," she said, taking her husband's hand, lifting it +to her mouth, and just faintly brushing it with closed lips. +"Like a kiss on a priest's hand." + +"Which didn't it bite with?" he said, laughing. + +"Both. But it should have been like this..." + +"There are some peasants coming..." + +"Oh, they didn't see." + + +Chapter 6 + + +During the time of the children's tea the grown-up people sat in +the balcony and talked as though nothing had happened, though +they all, especially Sergey Ivanovitch and Varenka, were very +well aware that there had happened an event which, though +negative, was of very great importance. They both had the same +feeling, rather like that of a schoolboy after an examination, +which has left him in the same class or shut him out of the +school forever. Everyone present, feeling too that something +had happened, talked eagerly about extraneous subjects. Levin +and Kitty were particularly happy and conscious of their love +that evening. And their happiness in their love seemed to imply +a disagreeable slur on those who would have liked to feel the +same and could not--and they felt a prick of conscience. + +"Mark my words, Alexander will not come," said the old princess. + +That evening they were expecting Stepan Arkadyevitch to come down +by train, and the old prince had written that possibly he might +come too. + +"And I know why," the princess went on; "he says that young +people ought to be left alone for a while at first." + +"But papa has left us alone. We've never seen him," said Kitty. +"Besides, we're not young people!--we're old, married people by +now." + +"Only if he doesn't come, I shall say good-bye to you children," +said the princess, sighing mournfully. + +"What nonsense, mamma!" both the daughters fell upon her at once. + +"How do you suppose he is feeling? Why, now..." + +And suddenly there was an unexpected quiver in the princess's +voice. Her daughters were silent, and looked at one another. +"Maman always finds something to be miserable about," they said +in that glance. They did not know that happy as the princess was +in her daughter's house, and useful as she felt herself to be +there, she had been extremely miserable, both on her own account +and her husband's, ever since they had married their last and +favorite daughter, and the old home had been left empty. + +"What is it, Agafea Mihalovna?" Kitty asked suddenly of Agafea +Mihalovna, who was standing with a mysterious air, and a face +full of meaning. + +"About supper." + +"Well, that's right," said Dolly; "you go and arrange about it, +and I'll go and hear Grisha repeat his lesson, or else he will +have nothing done all day." + +"That's my lesson! No, Dolly, I'm going," said Levin, jumping +up. + +Grisha, who was by now at a high school, had to go over the +lessons of the term in the summer holidays. Darya Alexandrovna, +who had been studying Latin with her son in Moscow before, had +made it a rule on coming to the Levins' to go over with him, at +least once a day, the most difficult lessons of Latin and +arithmetic. Levin had offered to take her place, but the mother, +having once overheard Levin's lesson, and noticing that it was +not given exactly as the teacher in Moscow had given it, said +resolutely, though with much embarrassment and anxiety not to +mortify Levin, that they must keep strictly to the book as the +teacher had done, and that she had better undertake it again +herself. Levin was amazed both at Stepan Arkadyevitch, who, by +neglecting his duty, threw upon the mother the supervision of +studies of which she had no comprehension, and at the teachers +for teaching the children so badly. But he promised his +sister-in-law to give the lessons exactly as she wished. And he +went on teaching Grisha, not in his own way, but by the book, and +so took little interest in it, and often forgot the hour of the +lesson. So it had been today. + +"No, I'm going, Dolly, you sit still," he said. "We'll do it all +properly, like the book. Only when Stiva comes, and we go out +shooting, then we shall have to miss it." + +And Levin went to Grisha. + +Varenka was saying the same thing to Kitty. Even in the happy, +well-ordered household of the Levins Varenka had succeeded in +making herself useful. + +"I'll see to the supper, you sit still," she said, and got up to +go to Agafea Mihalovna. + +"Yes, yes, most likely they've not been able to get chickens. If +so, ours..." + +"Agafea Mihalovna and I will see about it," and Varenka vanished +with her. + +"What a nice girl!" said the princess. + +"Not nice, maman; she's an exquisite girl; there's no one else +like her." + +"So you are expecting Stepan Arkadyevitch today?" said Sergey +Ivanovitch, evidently not disposed to pursue the conversation +about Varenka. "It would be difficult to find two sons-in-law +more unlike than yours," he said with a subtle smile. "One all +movement, only living in society, like a fish in water; the other +our Kostya, lively, alert, quick in everything, but as soon as he +is in society, he either sinks into apathy, or struggles +helplessly like a fish on land." + +"Yes, he's very heedless," said the princess, addressing Sergey +Ivanovitch. "I've been meaning, indeed, to ask you to tell him +that it's out of the question for her" (she indicated Kitty) "to +stay here; that she positively must come to Moscow. He talks of +getting a doctor down..." + +"Maman, he'll do everything; he has agreed to everything," Kitty +said, angry with her mother for appealing to Sergey Ivanovitch to +judge in such a matter. + +In the middle of their conversation they heard the snorting of +horses and the sound of wheels on the gravel. Dolly had not time +to get up to go and meet her husband, when from the window of the +room below, where Grisha was having his lesson, Levin leaped out +and helped Grisha out after him. + +"It's Stiva!" Levin shouted from under the balcony. "We've +finished, Dolly, don't be afraid!" he added, and started running +like a boy to meet the carriage. + +"_Is ea id, ejus, ejus, ejus!_" shouted Grisha, skipping along +the avenue. + +"And some one else too! Papa, of course!" cried Levin, stopping +at the entrance of the avenue. "Kitty, don't come down the steep +staircase, go round." + +But Levin had been mistaken in taking the person sitting in the +carriage for the old prince. As he got nearer to the carriage he +saw beside Stepan Arkadyevitch not the prince but a handsome, +stout young man in a Scotch cap, with long ends of ribbon behind. +This was Vassenka Veslovsky, a distant cousin of the +Shtcherbatskys, a brilliant young gentleman in Petersburg and +Moscow society. "A capital fellow, and a keen sportsman," as +Stepan Arkadyevitch said, introducing him. + +Not a whit abashed by the disappointment caused by his having +come in place of the old prince, Veslovsky greeted Levin gaily, +claiming acquaintance with him in the past, and snatching up +Grisha into the carriage, lifted him over the pointer that Stepan +Arkadyevitch had brought with him. + +Levin did not get into the carriage, but walked behind. He was +rather vexed at the non-arrival of the old prince, whom he liked +more and more the more he saw of him, and also at the arrival of +this Vassenka Veslovsky, a quite uncongenial and superfluous +person. He seemed to him still more uncongenial and superfluous +when, on approaching the steps where the whole party, children +and grown-up, were gathered together in much excitement, Levin +saw Vassenka Veslovsky, with a particularly warm and gallant air, +kissing Kitty's hand. + +"Your wife and I are cousins and very old friends," said +Vassenka Veslovsky, once more shaking Levin's hand with great +warmth. + +"Well, are there plenty of birds?" Stepan Arkadyevitch said to +Levin, hardly leaving time for everyone to utter their greetings. +"We've come with the most savage intentions. Why, maman, they've +not been in Moscow since! Look, Tanya, here's something for you! +Get it, please, it's in the carriage, behind!" he talked in all +directions. "How pretty you've grown, Dolly," he said to his +wife, once more kissing her hand, holding it in one of his, and +patting it with the other. + +Levin, who a minute before had been in the happiest frame of +mind, now looked darkly at everyone, and everything displeased +him. + +"Who was it he kissed yesterday with those lips?" he thought, +looking at Stepan Arkadyevitch's tender demonstrations to his +wife. He looked at Dolly, and he did not like her either. + +"She doesn't believe in his love. So what is she so pleased +about? Revolting!" thought Levin. + +He looked at the princess, who had been so dear to him a minute +before, and he did not like the manner in which she welcomed this +Vassenka, with his ribbons, just as though she were in her own +house. + +Even Sergey Ivanovitch, who had come out too onto the steps, +seemed to him unpleasant with the show of cordiality with which +he met Stepan Arkadyevitch, though Levin knew that his brother +neither liked nor respected Oblonsky. + +And Varenka, even she seemed hateful, with her air _sainte +nitouche_ making the acquaintance of this gentleman, while all +the while she was thinking of nothing but getting married. + +And more hateful than anyone was Kitty for falling in with the +tone of gaiety with which this gentleman regarded his visit in +the country, as though it were a holiday for himself and everyone +else. And, above all, unpleasant was that particular smile with +which she responded to his smile. + +Noisily talking, they all went into the house; but as soon as +they were all seated, Levin turned and went out. + +Kitty saw something was wrong with her husband. She tried to +seize a moment to speak to him alone, but he made haste to get +away from her, saying he was wanted at the counting-house. It +was long since his own work on the estate had seemed to him so +important as at that moment. "It's all holiday for them," he +thought; "but these are no holiday matters, they won't wait, and +there's no living without them." + + +Chapter 7 + + +Levin came back to the house only when they sent to summon him to +supper. On the stairs were standing Kitty and Agafea Mihalovna, +consulting about wines for supper. + +"But why are you making all this fuss? Have what we usually do." + +"No, Stiva doesn't drink...Kostya, stop, what's the matter?" +Kitty began, hurrying after him, but he strode ruthlessly away to +the dining room without waiting for her, and at once joined in +the lively general conversation which was being maintained there +by Vassenka Veslovsky and Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +"Well, what do you say, are we going shooting tomorrow?" said +Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +"Please, do let's go," said Veslovsky, moving to another chair, +where he sat down sideways, with one fat leg crossed under him. + +"I shall be delighted, we will go. And have you had any shooting +yet this year?" said Levin to Veslovsky, looking intently at his +leg, but speaking with that forced amiability that Kitty knew so +well in him, and that was so out of keeping with him. "I can't +answer for our finding grouse, but there are plenty of snipe. +Only we ought to start early. You're not tired? Aren't you +tired, Stiva?" + +"Me tired? I've never been tired yet. Suppose we stay up all +night. Let's go for a walk!" + +"Yes, really, let's not go to bed at all! Capital!" Veslovsky +chimed in. + +"Oh, we all know you can do without sleep, and keep other people +up too," Dolly said to her husband, with that faint note of irony +in her voice which she almost always had now with her husband. +"But to my thinking, it's time for bed now.... I'm going, I +don't want supper." + +"No, do stay a little, Dolly," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, going +round to her side behind the table where they were having supper. +"I've so much still to tell you." + +"Nothing really, I suppose." + +"Do you know Veslovsky has been at Anna's, and he's going to them +again? You know they're hardly fifty miles from you, and I too +must certainly go over there. Veslovsky, come here!" + +Vassenka crossed over to the ladies, and sat down beside Kitty. + +"Ah, do tell me, please; you have stayed with her? How was she?" +Darya Alexandrovna appealed to him. + +Levin was left at the other end of the table, and though never +pausing in his conversation with the princess and Varenka, he saw +that there was an eager and mysterious conversation going on +between Stepan Arkadyevitch, Dolly, Kitty, and Veslovsky. And +that was not all. He saw on his wife's face an expression of +real feeling as she gazed with fixed eyes on the handsome face of +Vassenka, who was telling them something with great animation. + +"It's exceedingly nice at their place," Veslovsky was telling +them about Vronsky and Anna. "I can't, of course, take it upon +myself to judge, but in their house you feel the real feeling of +home." + +"What do they intend doing?" + +"I believe they think of going to Moscow." + +"How jolly it would be for us all to go over to them together! +When are you going there?" Stepan Arkadyevitch asked Vassenka. + +"I'm spending July there." + +"Will you go?" Stepan Arkadyevitch said to his wife. + +"I've been wanting to a long while; I shall certainly go," said +Dolly. "I am sorry for her, and I know her. She's a splendid +woman. I will go alone, when you go back, and then I shall be in +no one's way. And it will be better indeed without you." + +"To be sure," said Stepan Arkadyevitch. "And you, Kitty?" + +"I? Why should I go?" Kitty said, flushing all over, and she +glanced round at her husband. + +"Do you know Anna Arkadyevna, then?" Veslovsky asked her. "She's +a very fascinating woman." + +"Yes," she answered Veslovsky, crimsoning still more. She got up +and walked across to her husband. + +"Are you going shooting, then, tomorrow?" she said. + +His jealousy had in these few moments, especially at the flush +that had overspread her cheeks while she was talking to +Veslovsky, gone far indeed. Now as he heard her words, he +construed them in his own fashion. Strange as it was to him +afterwards to recall it, it seemed to him at the moment clear +that in asking whether he was going shooting, all she cared to +know was whether he would give that pleasure to Vassenka +Veslovsky, with whom, as he fancied, she was in love. + +"Yes, I'm going," he answered her in an unnatural voice, +disagreeable to himself. + +"No, better spend the day here tomorrow, or Dolly won't see +anything of her husband, and set off the day after," said Kitty. + +The motive of Kitty's words was interpreted by Levin thus: "Don't +separate me from _him_. I don't care about _your_ going, but do +let me enjoy the society of this delightful young man." + +"Oh, if you wish, we'll stay here tomorrow," Levin answered, +with peculiar amiability. + +Vassenka meanwhile, utterly unsuspecting the misery his presence +had occasioned, got up from the table after Kitty, and watching +her with smiling and admiring eyes, he followed her. + +Levin saw that look. He turned white, and for a minute he could +hardly breathe. "How dare he look at my wife like that!" was the +feeling that boiled within him. + +"Tomorrow, then? Do, please, let us go," said Vassenka, sitting +down on a chair, and again crossing his leg as his habit was. + +Levin's jealousy went further still. Already he saw himself a +deceived husband, looked upon by his wife and her lover as simply +necessary to provide them with the conveniences and pleasures of +life.... But in spite of that he made polite and hospitable +inquiries of Vassenka about his shooting, his gun, and his boots, +and agreed to go shooting next day. + +Happily for Levin, the old princess cut short his agonies by +getting up herself and advising Kitty to go to bed. But even at +this point Levin could not escape another agony. As he said +good-night to his hostess, Vassenka would again have kissed her +hand, but Kitty, reddening, drew back her hand and said with a +naive bluntness, for which the old princess scolded her +afterwards: + +"We don't like that fashion." + +In Levin's eyes she was to blame for having allowed such +relations to arise, and still more to blame for showing so +awkwardly that she did not like them. + +"Why, how can one want to go to bed!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, +who, after drinking several glasses of wine at supper, was now in +his most charming and sentimental humor. "Look, Kitty," he said, +pointing to the moon, which had just risen behind the lime trees +--"how exquisite! Veslovsky, this is the time for a serenade. +You know, he has a splendid voice; we practiced songs together +along the road. He has brought some lovely songs with him, two +new ones. Varvara Andreevna and he must sing some duets." + +When the party had broken up, Stepan Arkadyevitch walked a long +while about the avenue with Veslovsky; their voices could be +heard singing one of the new songs. + +Levin hearing these voices sat scowling in an easy-chair in his +wife's bedroom, and maintained an obstinate silence when she +asked him what was wrong. But when at last with a timid glance +she hazarded the question: "Was there perhaps something you +disliked about Veslovsky?"--it all burst out, and he told her +all. He was humiliated himself at what he was saying, and that +exasperated him all the more. + +He stood facing her with his eyes glittering menacingly under his +scowling brows, and he squeezed his strong arms across his chest, +as though he were straining every nerve to hold himself in. The +expression of his face would have been grim, and even cruel, if +it had not at the same time had a look of suffering which touched +her. His jaws were twitching, and his voice kept breaking. + +"You must understand that I'm not jealous, that's a nasty word. +I can't be jealous, and believe that.... I can't say what I +feel, but this is awful.... I'm not jealous, but I'm wounded, +humiliated that anybody dare think, that anybody dare look at +you with eyes like that." + +"Eyes like what?" said Kitty, trying as conscientiously as +possible to recall every word and gesture of that evening and +every shade implied in them. + +At the very bottom of her heart she did think there had been +something precisely at the moment when he had crossed over after +her to the other end of the table; but she dared not own it even +to herself, and would have been even more unable to bring herself +to say so to him, and so increase his suffering. + +"And what can there possibly be attractive about me as I am +now?..." + +"Ah!" he cried, clutching at his head, "you shouldn't say +that!... If you had been attractive then..." + +"Oh, no, Kostya, oh, wait a minute, oh, do listen!" she said, +looking at him with an expression of pained commiseration. "Why, +what can you be thinking about! When for me there's no one in +the world, no one, no one!... Would you like me never to see +anyone?" + +For the first minute she had been offended at his jealousy; she +was angry that the slightest amusement, even the most innocent, +should be forbidden her; but now she would readily have +sacrificed, not merely such trifles, but everything, for his +peace of mind, to save him from the agony he was suffering. + +"You must understand the horror and comedy of my position," he +went on in a desperate whisper; "that he's in my house, that he's +done nothing improper positively except his free and easy airs +and the way he sits on his legs. He thinks it's the best +possible form, and so I'm obliged to be civil to him." + +"But, Kostya, you're exaggerating," said Kitty, at the bottom of +her heart rejoicing at the depth of his love for her, shown now +in his jealousy. + +"The most awful part of it all is that you're just as you always +are, and especially now when to me you're something sacred, and +we're so happy, so particularly happy--and all of a sudden a +little wretch.... He's not a little wretch; why should I abuse +him? I have nothing to do with him. But why should my, and +your, happiness..." + +"Do you know, I understand now what it's all come from," Kitty +was beginning. + +"Well, what? what?" + +"I saw how you looked while we were talking at supper." + +"Well, well!" Levin said in dismay. + +She told him what they had been talking about. And as she told +him, she was breathless with emotion. Levin was silent for a +space, then he scanned her pale and distressed face, and suddenly +he clutched at his head. + +"Katya, I've been worrying you! Darling, forgive me! It's +madness! Katya, I'm a criminal. And how could you be so +distressed at such idiocy?" + +"Oh, I was sorry for you." + +"For me? for me? How mad I am!... But why make you miserable? +It's awful to think that any outsider can shatter our happiness." + +"It's humiliating too, of course." + +"Oh, then I'll keep him here all the summer, and will overwhelm +him with civility," said Levin, kissing her hands. "You shall +see. Tomorrow.... Oh, yes, we are going tomorrow." + + +Chapter 8 + + +Next day, before the ladies were up, the wagonette and a trap for +the shooting party were at the door, and Laska, aware since early +morning that they were going shooting, after much whining and +darting to and fro, had sat herself down in the wagonette beside +the coachman, and, disapproving of the delay, was excitedly +watching the door from which the sportsmen still did not come +out. The first to come out was Vassenka Veslovsky, in new high +boots that reached half-way up his thick thighs, in a green +blouse, with a new Russian leather cartridge-belt, and in his +Scotch cap with ribbons, with a brand-new English gun without a +sling. Laska flew up to him, welcomed him, and jumping up, asked +him in her own way whether the others were coming soon, but +getting no answer from him, she returned to her post of +observation and sank into repose again, her head on one side, and +one ear pricked up to listen. At last the door opened with a +creak, and Stepan Arkadyevitch's spot-and-tan pointer Krak flew +out, running round and round and turning over in the air. Stepan +Arkadyevitch himself followed with a gun in his hand and a cigar +in his mouth. + +"Good dog, good dog, Krak!" he cried encouragingly to the dog, +who put his paws up on his chest, catching at his game bag. +Stepan Arkadyevitch was dressed in rough leggings and spats, in +torn trousers and a short coat. On his head there was a wreck of +a hat of indefinite form, but his gun of a new patent was a +perfect gem, and his game bag and cartridge belt, though worn, +were of the very best quality. + +Vassenka Veslovsky had had no notion before that it was truly +_chic_ for a sportsman to be in tatters, but to have his shooting +outfit of the best quality. He saw it now as he looked at Stepan +Arkadyevitch, radiant in his rags, graceful, well-fed, and +joyous, a typical Russian nobleman. And he made up his mind that +next time he went shooting he would certainly adopt the same +get-up. + +"Well, and what about our host?" he asked. + +"A young wife," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, smiling. + +"Yes, and such a charming one!" + +"He came down dressed. No doubt he's run up to her again." + +Stepan Arkadyevitch guessed right. Levin had run up again to his +wife to ask her once more if she forgave him for his idiocy +yesterday, and, moreover, to beg her for Christ's sake to be more +careful. The great thing was for her to keep away from the +children--they might any minute push against her. Then he had +once more to hear her declare that she was not angry with him for +going away for two days, and to beg her to be sure to send him a +note next morning by a servant on horseback, to write him, if it +were but two words only, to let him know that all was well with +her. + +Kitty was distressed, as she always was, at parting for a couple +of days from her husband, but when she saw his eager figure, +looking big and strong in his shooting-boots and his white +blouse, and a sort of sportsman elation and excitement +incomprehensible to her, she forgot her own chagrin for the sake +of his pleasure, and said good-bye to him cheerfully. + +"Pardon, gentlemen!" he said, running out onto the steps. "Have +you put the lunch in? Why is the chestnut on the right? Well, +it doesn't matter. Laska, down; go and lie down!" + +"Put it with the herd of oxen," he said to the herdsman, who was +waiting for him at the steps with some question. "Excuse me, +here comes another villain." + +Levin jumped out of the wagonette, in which he had already taken +his seat, to meet the carpenter, who came towards the steps with +a rule in his hand. + +"You didn't come to the counting house yesterday, and now you're +detaining me. Well, what is it?" + +"Would your honor let me make another turning? It's only three +steps to add. And we make it just fit at the same time. It will +be much more convenient." + +"You should have listened to me," Levin answered with annoyance. +"I said: Put the lines and then fit in the steps. Now there's +no setting it right. Do as I told you, and make a new +staircase." + +The point was that in the lodge that was being built the +carpenter had spoiled the staircase, fitting it together without +calculating the space it was to fill, so that the steps were all +sloping when it was put in place. Now the carpenter wanted, +keeping the same staircase, to add three steps. + +"It will be much better." + +"But where's your staircase coming out with its three steps?" + +"Why, upon my word, sir," the carpenter said with a contemptuous +smile. "It comes out right at the very spot. It starts, so to +speak," he said, with a persuasive gesture; "it comes down, and +comes down, and comes out." + +"But three steps will add to the length too...where is it to +come out?" + +"Why, to be sure, it'll start from the bottom and go up and go +up, and come out so," the carpenter said obstinately and +convincingly. + +"It'll reach the ceiling and the wall." + +"Upon my word! Why, it'll go up, and up, and come out like +this." + +Levin took out a ramrod and began sketching him the staircase in +the dust. + +"There, do you see?" + +"As your honor likes," said the carpenter, with a sudden gleam in +his eyes, obviously understanding the thing at last. "It seems +it'll be best to make a new one." + +"Well, then, do it as you're told," Levin shouted, seating +himself in the wagonette. "Down! Hold the dogs, Philip!" + +Levin felt now at leaving behind all his family and household +cares such an eager sense of joy in life and expectation that he +was not disposed to talk. Besides that, he had that feeling of +concentrated excitement that every sportsman experiences as he +approaches the scene of action. If he had anything on his mind +at that moment, it was only the doubt whether they would start +anything in the Kolpensky marsh, whether Laska would show to +advantage in comparison with Krak, and whether he would shoot +well that day himself. Not to disgrace himself before a new +spectator--not to be outdone by Oblonsky--that too was a thought +that crossed his brain. + +Oblonsky was feeling the same, and he too was not talkative. +Vassenka Veslovsky kept up alone a ceaseless flow of cheerful +chatter. As he listened to him now, Levin felt ashamed to think +how unfair he had been to him the day before. Vassenka was +really a nice fellow, simple, good-hearted, and very +good-humored. If Levin had met him before he was married, he +would have made friends with him. Levin rather disliked his +holiday attitude to life and a sort of free and easy assumption +of elegance. It was as though he assumed a high degree of +importance in himself that could not be disputed, because he had +long nails and a stylish cap, and everything else to correspond; +but this could be forgiven for the sake of his good nature and +good breeding. Levin liked him for his good education, for +speaking French and English with such an excellent accent, and +for being a man of his world. + +Vassenka was extremely delighted with the left horse, a horse of +the Don Steppes. He kept praising him enthusiastically. "How +fine it must be galloping over the steppes on a steppe horse! +Eh? isn't it?" he said. He had imagined riding on a steppe horse +as something wild and romantic, and it turned out nothing of the +sort. But his simplicity, particularly in conjunction with his +good looks, his amiable smile, and the grace of his movements, +was very attractive. Either because his nature was sympathetic +to Levin, or because Levin was trying to atone for his sins of +the previous evening by seeing nothing but what was good in him, +anyway he liked his society. + +After they had driven over two miles from home, Veslovsky all at +once felt for a cigar and his pocketbook, and did not know +whether he had lost them or left them on the table. In the +pocketbook there were thirty-seven pounds, and so the matter +could not be left in uncertainty. + +"Do you know what, Levin, I'll gallop home on that left +trace-horse. That will be splendid. Eh?" he said, preparing to +get out. + +"No, why should you?" answered Levin, calculating that Vassenka +could hardly weigh less than seventeen stone. "I'll send the +coachman." + +The coachman rode back on the trace-horse, and Levin himself +drove the remaining pair. + + +Chapter 9 + + +"Well, now what's our plan of campaign? Tell us all about it," +said Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +"Our plan is this. Now we're driving to Gvozdyov. In Gvozdyov +there's a grouse marsh on this side, and beyond Gvozdyov come +some magnificent snipe marshes where there are grouse too. It's +hot now, and we'll get there--it's fifteen miles or so--towards +evening and have some evening shooting; we'll spend the night +there and go on tomorrow to the bigger moors." + +"And is there nothing on the way?" + +"Yes; but we'll reserve ourselves; besides it's hot. There are +two nice little places, but I doubt there being anything to +shoot." + +Levin would himself have liked to go into these little places, +but they were near home; he could shoot them over any time, and +they were only little places--there would hardly be room for +three to shoot. And so, with some insincerity, he said that he +doubted there being anything to shoot. When they reached a +little marsh Levin would have driven by, but Stepan Arkadyevitch, +with the experienced eye of a sportsman, at once detected reeds +visible from the road. + +"Shan't we try that?" he said, pointing to the little marsh. + +"Levin, do, please! how delightful!" Vassenka Veslovsky began +begging, and Levin could but consent. + +Before they had time to stop, the dogs had flown one before the +other into the marsh. + +"Krak! Laska!..." + +The dogs came back. + +"There won't be room for three. I'll stay here," said Levin, +hoping they would find nothing but peewits, who had been startled +by the dogs, and turning over in their flight, were plaintively +wailing over the marsh. + +"No! Come along, Levin, let's go together!" Veslovsky called. + +"Really, there's not room. Laska, back, Laska! You won't want +another dog, will you?" + +Levin remained with the wagonette, and looked enviously at the +sportsmen. They walked right across the marsh. Except little +birds and peewits, of which Vassenka killed one, there was +nothing in the marsh. + +"Come, you see now that it was not that I grudged the marsh," +said Levin, "only it's wasting time." + +"Oh, no, it was jolly all the same. Did you see us?" said +Vassenka Veslovsky, clambering awkwardly into the wagonette with +his gun and his peewit in his hands. "How splendidly I shot +this bird! Didn't I? Well, shall we soon be getting to the real +place?" + +The horses started off suddenly, Levin knocked his head against +the stock of someone's gun, and there was the report of a shot. +The gun did actually go off first, but that was how it seemed to +Levin. It appeared that Vassenka Veslovsky had pulled only one +trigger, and had left the other hammer still cocked. The charge +flew into the ground without doing harm to anyone. Stepan +Arkadyevitch shook his head and laughed reprovingly at Veslovsky. +But Levin had not the heart to reprove him. In the first place, +any reproach would have seemed to be called forth by the danger +he had incurred and the bump that had come up on Levin's +forehead. And besides, Veslovsky was at first so naively +distressed, and then laughed so good-humoredly and infectiously +at their general dismay, that one could not but laugh with him. + +When they reached the second marsh, which was fairly large, and +would inevitably take some time to shoot over, Levin tried to +persuade them to pass it by. But Veslovsky again overpersuaded +him. Again, as the marsh was narrow, Levin, like a good host, +remained with the carriage. + +Krak made straight for some clumps of sedge. Vassenka Veslovsky +was the first to run after the dog. Before Stepan Arkadyevitch +had time to come up, a grouse flew out. Veslovsky missed it and +it flew into an unmown meadow. This grouse was left for +Veslovsky to follow up. Krak found it again and pointed, and +Veslovsky shot it and went back to the carriage. "Now you go and +I'll stay with the horses," he said. + +Levin had begun to feel the pangs of a sportsman's envy. He +handed the reins to Veslovsky and walked into the marsh. + +Laska, who had been plaintively whining and fretting against the +injustice of her treatment, flew straight ahead to a hopeful +place that Levin knew well, and that Krak had not yet come upon. + +"Why don't you stop her?" shouted Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +"She won't scare them," answered Levin, sympathizing with his +bitch's pleasure and hurrying after her. + +As she came nearer and nearer to the familiar breeding places +there was more and more earnestness in Laska's exploration. A +little marsh bird did not divert her attention for more than an +instant. She made one circuit round the clump of reeds, was +beginning a second, and suddenly quivered with excitement and +became motionless. + +"Come, come, Stiva!" shouted Levin, feeling his heart beginning +to beat more violently; and all of a sudden, as though some sort +of shutter had been drawn back from his straining ears, all +sounds, confused but loud, began to beat on his hearing, losing +all sense of distance. He heard the steps of Stepan +Arkadyevitch, mistaking them for the tramp of the horses in the +distance; he heard the brittle sound of the twigs on which he had +trodden, taking this sound for the flying of a grouse. He heard +too, not far behind him, a splashing in the water, which he could +not explain to himself. + +Picking his steps, he moved up to the dog. + +"Fetch it!" + +Not a grouse but a snipe flew up from beside the dog. Levin had +lifted his gun, but at the very instant when he was taking aim, +the sound of splashing grew louder, came closer, and was joined +with the sound of Veslovsky's voice, shouting something with +strange loudness. Levin saw he had his gun pointed behind the +snipe, but still he fired. + +When he had made sure he had missed, Levin looked round and saw +the horses and the wagonette not on the road but in the marsh. + +Veslovsky, eager to see the shooting, had driven into the marsh, +and got the horses stuck in the mud. + +"Damn the fellow!" Levin said to himself, as he went back to the +carriage that had sunk in the mire. "What did you drive in for?" +he said to him dryly, and calling the coachman, he began pulling +the horses out. + +Levin was vexed both at being hindered from shooting and at his +horses getting stuck in the mud, and still more at the fact that +neither Stepan Arkadyevitch nor Veslovsky helped him and the +coachman to unharness the horses and get them out, since neither +of them had the slightest notion of harnessing. Without +vouchsafing a syllable in reply to Vassenka's protestations that +it had been quite dry there, Levin worked in silence with the +coachman at extricating the horses. But then, as he got warm at +the work and saw how assiduously Veslovsky was tugging at the +wagonette by one of the mud-guards, so that he broke it indeed, +Levin blamed himself for having under the influence of +yesterday's feelings been too cold to Veslovsky, and tried to be +particularly genial so as to smooth over his chilliness. When +everything had been put right, and the carriage had been brought +back to the road, Levin had the lunch served. + +"_Bon appetit--bonne conscience! Ce poulet va tomber jusqu'au +fond de mes bottes_," Vassenka, who had recovered his spirits, +quoted the French saying as he finished his second chicken. +"Well, now our troubles are over, now everything's going to go +well. Only, to atone for my sins, I'm bound to sit on the box. +That's so? eh? No, no! I'll be your Automedon. You shall see +how I'll get you along," he answered, not letting go the rein, +when Levin begged him to let the coachman drive. "No, I must +atone for my sins, and I'm very comfortable on the box." And he +drove. + +Levin was a little afraid he would exhaust the horses, especially +the chestnut, whom he did not know how to hold in; but +unconsciously he fell under the influence of his gaiety and +listened to the songs he sang all the way on the box, or the +descriptions and representations he gave of driving in the +English fashion, four-in-hand; and it was in the very best of +spirits that after lunch they drove to the Gvozdyov marsh. + + +Chapter 10 + + +Vassenka drove the horses so smartly that they reached the marsh +too early, while it was still hot. + +As they drew near this more important marsh, the chief aim of +their expedition, Levin could not help considering how he could +get rid of Vassenka and be free in his movements. Stepan +Arkadyevitch evidently had the same desire, and on his face Levin +saw the look of anxiety always present in a true sportsman when +beginning shooting, together with a certain good-humored slyness +peculiar to him. + +"How shall we go? It's a splendid marsh, I see, and there are +hawks," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, pointing to two great birds +hovering over the reeds. "Where there are hawks, there is sure +to be game." + +"Now, gentlemen," said Levin, pulling up his boots and examining +the lock of his gun with rather a gloomy expression, "do you see +those reeds?" He pointed to an oasis of blackish green in the +huge half-mown wet meadow that stretched along the right bank of +the river. "The marsh begins here, straight in front of us, do +you see--where it is greener? From here it runs to the right +where the horses are; there are breeding places there, and +grouse, and all round those reeds as far as that alder, and right +up to the mill. Over there, do you see, where the pools are? +That's the best place. There I once shot seventeen snipe. +We'll separate with the dogs and go in different directions, and +then meet over there at the mill." + +"Well, which shall go to left and which to right?" asked Stepan +Arkadyevitch. "It's wider to the right; you two go that way and +I'll take the left," he said with apparent carelessness. + +"Capital! we'll make the bigger bag! Yes, come along, come +along!" Vassenka exclaimed. + +Levin could do nothing but agree, and they divided. + +As soon as they entered the marsh, the two dogs began hunting +about together and made towards the green, slime-covered pool. +Levin knew Laska's method, wary and indefinite; he knew the place +too and expected a whole covey of snipe. + +"Veslovsky, beside me, walk beside me!" he said in a faint voice +to his companion splashing in the water behind him. Levin could +not help feeling an interest in the direction his gun was +pointed, after that casual shot near the Kolpensky marsh. + +"Oh, I won't get in your way, don't trouble about me." + +But Levin could not help troubling, and recalled Kitty's words at +parting: "Mind you don't shoot one another." The dogs came +nearer and nearer, passed each other, each pursuing its own +scent. The expectation of snipe was so intense that to Levin the +squelching sound of his own heel, as he drew it up out of the +mire, seemed to be the call of a snipe, and he clutched and +pressed the lock of his gun. + +"Bang! bang!" sounded almost in his ear. Vassenka had fired at a +flock of ducks which was hovering over the marsh and flying at +that moment towards the sportsmen, far out of range. Before +Levin had time to look round, there was the whir of one snipe, +another, a third, and some eight more rose one after another. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch hit one at the very moment when it was +beginning its zigzag movements, and the snipe fell in a heap into +the mud. Oblonsky aimed deliberately at another, still flying +low in the reeds, and together with the report of the shot, that +snipe too fell, and it could be seen fluttering out where the +sedge had been cut, its unhurt wing showing white beneath. + +Levin was not so lucky: he aimed at his first bird too low, and +missed; he aimed at it again, just as it was rising, but at that +instant another snipe flew up at his very feet, distracting him +so that he missed again. + +While they were loading their guns, another snipe rose, and +Veslovsky, who had had time to load again, sent two charges of +small-shot into the water. Stepan Arkadyevitch picked up his +snipe, and with sparkling eyes looked at Levin. + +"Well, now let us separate," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, and +limping on his left foot, holding his gun in readiness and +whistling to his dog, he walked off in one direction. Levin and +Veslovsky walked in the other. + +It always happened with Levin that when his first shots were a +failure he got hot and out of temper, and shot badly the whole +day. So it was that day. The snipe showed themselves in +numbers. They kept flying up from just under the dogs, from +under the sportsmen's legs, and Levin might have retrieved his +ill luck. But the more he shot, the more he felt disgraced in +the eyes of Veslovsky, who kept popping away merrily and +indiscriminately, killing nothing, and not in the slightest +abashed by his ill success. Levin, in feverish haste, could not +restrain himself, got more and more out of temper, and ended by +shooting almost without a hope of hitting. Laska, indeed, seemed +to understand this. She began looking more languidly, and gazed +back at the sportsmen, as it were, with perplexity or reproach in +her eyes. Shots followed shots in rapid succession. The smoke +of the powder hung about the sportsmen, while in the great roomy +net of the game bag there were only three light little snipe. +And of these one had been killed by Veslovsky alone, and one by +both of them together. Meanwhile from the other side of the +marsh came the sound of Stepan Arkadyevitch's shots, not +frequent, but, as Levin fancied, well-directed, for almost after +each they heard "Krak, Krak, _apporte_!" + +This excited Levin still more. The snipe were floating +continually in the air over the reeds. Their whirring wings +close to the earth, and their harsh cries high in the air, could +be heard on all sides; the snipe that had risen first and flown +up into the air, settled again before the sportsmen. Instead of +two hawks there were now dozens of them hovering with shrill +cries over the marsh. + +After walking through the larger half of the marsh, Levin and +Veslovsky reached the place where the peasants' mowing-grass was +divided into long strips reaching to the reeds, marked off in one +place by the trampled grass, in another by a path mown through +it. Half of these strips had already been mown. + +Though there was not so much hope of finding birds in the uncut +part as the cut part, Levin had promised Stepan Arkadyevitch to +meet him, and so he walked on with his companion through the cut +and uncut patches. + +"Hi, sportsmen!" shouted one of a group of peasants, sitting on +an unharnessed cart; "come and have some lunch with us! Have a +drop of wine!" + +Levin looked round. + +"Come along, it's all right!" shouted a good-humored-looking +bearded peasant with a red face, showing his white teeth in a +grin, and holding up a greenish bottle that flashed in the +sunlight. + +"_Qu'est-ce qu'ils disent_?" asked Veslovsky. + +"They invite you to have some vodka. Most likely they've been +dividing the meadow into lots. I should have some," said Levin, +not without some guile, hoping Veslovsky would be tempted by the +vodka, and would go away to them. + +"Why do they offer it?" + +"Oh, they're merry-making. Really, you should join them. You +would be interested." + +"_Allons, c'est curieux_." + +"You go, you go, you'll find the way to the mill!" cried Levin, +and looking round he perceived with satisfaction that Veslovsky, +bent and stumbling with weariness, holding his gun out at arm's +length, was making his way out of the marsh towards the +peasants. + +"You come too!" the peasants shouted to Levin. "Never fear! You +taste our cake!" + +Levin felt a strong inclination to drink a little vodka and to +eat some bread. He was exhausted, and felt it a great effort to +drag his staggering legs out of the mire, and for a minute he +hesitated. But Laska was setting. And immediately all his +weariness vanished, and he walked lightly through the swamp +towards the dog. A snipe flew up at his feet; he fired and +killed it. Laska still pointed.--"Fetch it!" Another bird flew +up close to the dog. Levin fired. But it was an unlucky day for +him; he missed it, and when he went to look for the one he had +shot, he could not find that either. He wandered all about the +reeds, but Laska did not believe he had shot it, and when he sent +her to find it, she pretended to hunt for it, but did not really. +And in the absence of Vassenka, on whom Levin threw the blame of +his failure, things went no better. There were plenty of snipe +still, but Levin made one miss after another. + +The slanting rays of the sun were still hot; his clothes, soaked +through with perspiration, stuck to his body; his left boot full +of water weighed heavily on his leg and squeaked at every step; +the sweat ran in drops down his powder-grimed face, his mouth +was full of the bitter taste, his nose of the smell of powder and +stagnant water, his ears were ringing with the incessant whir of +the snipe; he could not touch the stock of his gun, it was so +hot; his heart beat with short, rapid throbs; his hands shook +with excitement, and his weary legs stumbled and staggered over +the hillocks and in the swamp, but still he walked on and still +he shot. At last, after a disgraceful miss, he flung his gun and +his hat on the ground. + +"No, I must control myself," he said to himself. Picking up his +gun and his hat, he called Laska, and went out of the swamp. +When he got on to dry ground he sat down, pulled off his boot and +emptied it, then walked to the marsh, drank some stagnant-tasting +water, moistened his burning hot gun, and washed his face and +hands. Feeling refreshed, he went back to the spot where a snipe +had settled, firmly resolved to keep cool. + +He tried to be calm, but it was the same again. His finger +pressed the cock before he had taken a good aim at the bird. It +got worse and worse. + +He had only five birds in his game-bag when he walked out of the +marsh towards the alders where he was to rejoin Stepan +Arkadyevitch. + +Before he caught sight of Stepan Arkadyevitch he saw his dog. +Krak darted out from behind the twisted root of an alder, black +all over with the stinking mire of the marsh, and with the air of +a conqueror sniffed at Laska. Behind Krak there came into view +in the shade of the alder tree the shapely figure of Stepan +Arkadyevitch. He came to meet him, red and perspiring, with +unbuttoned neckband, still limping in the same way. + +"Well? You have been popping away!" he said, smiling +good-humoredly. + +"How have you got on?" queried Levin. But there was no need to +ask, for he had already seen the full game bag. + +"Oh, pretty fair." + +He had fourteen birds. + +"A splendid marsh! I've no doubt Veslovsky got in your way. +It's awkward too, shooting with one dog," said Stepan +Arkadyevitch, to soften his triumph. + + +Chapter 11 + + +When Levin and Stepan Arkadyevitch reached the peasant's hut +where Levin always used to stay, Veslovsky was already there. He +was sitting in the middle of the hut, clinging with both hands to +the bench from which he was being pulled by a soldier, the +brother of the peasant's wife, who was helping him off with his +miry boots. Veslovsky was laughing his infectious, good-humored +laugh. + +"I've only just come. _Ils ont ete charmants_. Just fancy, they +gave me drink, fed me! Such bread, it was exquisite! _Delicieux!_ +And the vodka, I never tasted any better. And they would not +take a penny for anything. And they kept saying: 'Excuse our +homely ways.'" + +"What should they take anything for? They were entertaining you, +to be sure. Do you suppose they keep vodka for sale?" said the +soldier, succeeding at last in pulling the soaked boot off the +blackened stocking. + +In spite of the dirtiness of the hut, which was all muddied by +their boots and the filthy dogs licking themselves clean, and the +smell of marsh mud and powder that filled the room, and the +absence of knives and forks, the party drank their tea and ate +their supper with a relish only known to sportsmen. Washed and +clean, they went into a hay-barn swept ready for them, where the +coachman had been making up beds for the gentlemen. + +Though it was dusk, not one of them wanted to go to sleep. + +After wavering among reminiscences and anecdotes of guns, of +dogs, and of former shooting parties, the conversation rested on +a topic that interested all of them. After Vassenka had several +times over expressed his appreciation of this delightful +sleeping place among the fragrant hay, this delightful broken +cart (he supposed it to be broken because the shafts had been +taken out), of the good nature of the peasants that had treated +him to vodka, of the dogs who lay at the feet of their respective +masters, Oblonsky began telling them of a delightful shooting +party at Malthus's, where he had stayed the previous summer. + +Malthus was a well-known capitalist, who had made his money by +speculation in railway shares. Stepan Arkadyevitch described +what grouse moors this Malthus had bought in the Tver province, +and how they were preserved, and of the carriages and dogcarts in +which the shooting party had been driven, and the luncheon +pavilion that had been rigged up at the marsh. + +"I don't understand you," said Levin, sitting up in the hay; "how +is it such people don't disgust you? I can understand a lunch +with Lafitte is all very pleasant, but don't you dislike just +that very sumptuousness? All these people, just like our spirit +monopolists in old days, get their money in a way that gains them +the contempt of everyone. They don't care for their contempt, +and then they use their dishonest gains to buy off the contempt +they have deserved." + +"Perfectly true!" chimed in Vassenka Veslovsky. "Perfectly! +Oblonsky, of course, goes out of _bonhomie_, but other people say: +'Well, Oblonsky stays with them.'..." + +"Not a bit of it." Levin could hear that Oblonsky was smiling as +he spoke. "I simply don't consider him more dishonest than any +other wealthy merchant or nobleman. They've all made their money +alike--by their work and their intelligence." + +"Oh, by what work? Do you call it work to get hold of +concessions and speculate with them?" + +"Of course it's work. Work in this sense, that if it were not +for him and others like him, there would have been no railways." + +"But that's not work, like the work of a peasant or a learned +profession." + +"Granted, but it's work in the sense that his activity produces a +result--the railways. But of course you think the railways +useless." + +"No, that's another question; I am prepared to admit that +they're useful. But all profit that is out of proportion to the +labor expended is dishonest." + +"But who is to define what is proportionate?" + +"Making profit by dishonest means, by trickery," said Levin, +conscious that he could not draw a distinct line between honesty +and dishonesty. "Such as banking, for instance," he went on. +"It's an evil--the amassing of huge fortunes without labor, just +the same thing as with the spirit monopolies, it's only the form +that's changed. _Le roi est mort, vive le roi_. No sooner were +the spirit monopolies abolished than the railways came up, and +banking companies; that, too, is profit without work." + +"Yes, that may all be very true and clever.... Lie down, Krak!" +Stepan Arkadyevitch called to his dog, who was scratching and +turning over all the hay. He was obviously convinced of the +correctness of his position, and so talked serenely and without +haste. "But you have not drawn the line between honest and +dishonest work. That I receive a bigger salary than my chief +clerk, though he knows more about the work than I do--that's +dishonest, I suppose?" + +"I can't say." + +"Well, but I can tell you: your receiving some five thousand, +let's say, for your work on the land, while our host, the peasant +here, however hard he works, can never get more than fifty +roubles, is just as dishonest as my earning more than my chief +clerk, and Malthus getting more than a station-master. No, quite +the contrary; I see that society takes up a sort of antagonistic +attitude to these people, which is utterly baseless, and I fancy +there's envy at the bottom of it...." + +"No, that's unfair," said Veslovsky; "how could envy come in? +There is something not nice about that sort of business." + +"You say," Levin went on, "that it's unjust for me to receive +five thousand, while the peasant has fifty; that's true. It is +unfair, and I feel it, but..." + +"It really is. Why is it we spend our time riding, drinking, +shooting, doing nothing, while they are forever at work?" said +Vassenka Veslovsky, obviously for the first time in his life +reflecting on the question, and consequently considering it with +perfect sincerity. + +"Yes, you feel it, but you don't give him your property," said +Stepan Arkadyevitch, intentionally, as it seemed, provoking +Levin. + +There had arisen of late something like a secret antagonism +between the two brothers-in-law; as though, since they had +married sisters, a kind of rivalry had sprung up between them as +to which was ordering his life best, and now this hostility +showed itself in the conversation, as it began to take a personal +note. + +"I don't give it away, because no one demands that from me, and +if I wanted to, I could not give it away," answered Levin, "and +have no one to give it to." + +"Give it to this peasant, he would not refuse it." + +"Yes, but how am I to give it up? Am I to go to him and make a +deed of conveyance?" + +"I don't know; but if you are convinced that you have no +right..." + +"I'm not at all convinced. On the contrary, I feel I have no +right to give it up, that I have duties both to the land and to +my family." + +"No, excuse me, but if you consider this inequality is unjust, +why is it you don't act accordingly?..." + +"Well, I do act negatively on that idea, so far as not trying to +increase the difference of position existing between him and me." + +"No, excuse me, that's a paradox." + +"Yes, there's something of a sophistry about that," Veslovsky +agreed. "Ah! our host; so you're not asleep yet?" he said to the +peasant who came into the barn, opening the creaking door. "How +is it you're not asleep?" + +"No, how's one to sleep! I thought our gentlemen would be +asleep, but I heard them chattering. I want to get a hook from +here. She won't bite?" he added, stepping cautiously with his +bare feet. + +"And where are you going to sleep?" + +"We are going out for the night with the beasts." + +"Ah, what a night!" said Veslovsky, looking out at the edge of +the hut and the unharnessed wagonette that could be seen in the +faint light of the evening glow in the great frame of the open +doors. "But listen, there are women's voices singing, and, on my +word, not badly too. Who's that singing, my friend?" + +"That's the maids from hard by here." + +"Let's go, let's have a walk! We shan't go to sleep, you know. +Oblonsky, come along!" + +"If one could only do both, lie here and go," answered Oblonsky, +stretching. "It's capital lying here." + +"Well, I shall go by myself," said Veslovsky, getting up +eagerly, and putting on his shoes and stockings. "Good-bye, +gentlemen. If it's fun, I'll fetch you. You've treated me to +some good sport, and I won't forget you." + +"He really is a capital fellow, isn't he?" said Stepan +Arkadyevitch, when Veslovsky had gone out and the peasant had +closed the door after him. + +"Yes, capital," answered Levin, still thinking of the subject of +their conversation just before. It seemed to him that he had +clearly expressed his thoughts and feelings to the best of his +capacity, and yet both of them, straightforward men and not +fools, had said with one voice that he was comforting himself +with sophistries. This disconcerted him. + +"It's just this, my dear boy. One must do one of two things: +either admit that the existing order of society is just, and then +stick up for one's rights in it; or acknowledge that you are +enjoying unjust privileges, as I do, and then enjoy them and be +satisfied." + +"No, if it were unjust, you could not enjoy these advantages and +be satisfied--at least I could not. The great thing for me is +to feel that I'm not to blame." + +"What do you say, why not go after all?" said Stepan +Arkadyevitch, evidently weary of the strain of thought. "We +shan't go to sleep, you know. Come, let's go!" + +Levin did not answer. What they had said in the conversation, +that he acted justly only in a negative sense, absorbed his +thoughts. "Can it be that it's only possible to be just +negatively?" he was asking himself. + +"How strong the smell of the fresh hay is, though," said Stepan +Arkadyevitch, getting up. "There's not a chance of sleeping. +Vassenka has been getting up some fun there. Do you hear the +laughing and his voice? Hadn't we better go? Come along!" + +"No, I'm not coming," answered Levin. + +"Surely that's not a matter of principle too," said Stepan +Arkadyevitch, smiling, as he felt about in the dark for his cap. + +"It's not a matter of principle, but why should I go?" + +"But do you know you are preparing trouble for yourself," said +Stepan Arkadyevitch, finding his cap and getting up. + +"How so?" + +"Do you suppose I don't see the line you've taken up with your +wife? I heard how it's a question of the greatest consequence, +whether or not you're to be away for a couple of days' shooting. +That's all very well as an idyllic episode, but for your whole +life that won't answer. A man must be independent; he has his +masculine interests. A man has to be manly," said Oblonsky, +opening the door. + +"In what way? To go running after servant girls?" said Levin. + +"Why not, if it amuses him? _Ca ne tire pas a consequence_. It +won't do my wife any harm, and it'll amuse me. The great thing +is to respect the sanctity of the home. There should be nothing +in the home. But don't tie your own hands." + +"Perhaps so," said Levin dryly, and he turned on his side. +"Tomorrow, early, I want to go shooting, and I won't wake anyone, +and shall set off at daybreak." + +"_Messieurs, venez vite!_" they heard the voice of Veslovsky coming +back. "_Charmante!_ I've made such a discovery. _Charmante!_ a +perfect Gretchen, and I've already made friends with her. +Really, exceedingly pretty," he declared in a tone of approval, +as though she had been made pretty entirely on his account, and +he was expressing his satisfaction with the entertainment that +had been provided for him. + +Levin pretended to be asleep, while Oblonsky, putting on his +slippers, and lighting a cigar, walked out of the barn, and soon +their voices were lost. + +For a long while Levin could not get to sleep. He heard the +horses munching hay, then he heard the peasant and his elder boy +getting ready for the night, and going off for the night watch +with the beasts, then he heard the soldier arranging his bed on +the other side of the barn, with his nephew, the younger son of +their peasant host. He heard the boy in his shrill little voice +telling his uncle what he thought about the dogs, who seemed to +him huge and terrible creatures, and asking what the dogs were +going to hunt next day, and the soldier in a husky, sleepy voice, +telling him the sportsmen were going in the morning to the marsh, +and would shoot with their guns; and then, to check the boy's +questions, he said, "Go to sleep, Vaska; go to sleep, or you'll +catch it," and soon after he began snoring himself, and +everything was still. He could only hear the snort of the +horses, and the guttural cry of a snipe. + +"Is it really only negative?" he repeated to himself. "Well, +what of it? It's not my fault." And he began thinking about the +next day. + +"Tomorrow I'll go out early, and I'll make a point of keeping +cool. There are lots of snipe; and there are grouse too. When +I come back there'll be the note from Kitty. Yes, Stiva may be +right, I'm not manly with her, I'm tied to her apron-strings.... +Well, it can't be helped! Negative again...." + +Half asleep, he heard the laughter and mirthful talk of Veslovsky +and Stepan Arkadyevitch. For an instant he opened his eyes: the +moon was up, and in the open doorway, brightly lighted up by the +moonlight, they were standing talking. Stepan Arkadyevitch was +saying something of the freshness of one girl, comparing her to a +freshly peeled nut, and Veslovsky with his infectious laugh was +repeating some words, probably said to him by a peasant: "Ah, you +do your best to get round her!" Levin, half asleep, said: + +"Gentlemen, tomorrow before daylight!" and fell asleep. + + +Chapter 12 + + +Waking up at earliest dawn, Levin tried to wake his companions. +Vassenka, lying on his stomach, with one leg in a stocking thrust +out, was sleeping so soundly that he could elicit no response. +Oblonsky, half asleep, declined to get up so early. Even Laska, +who was asleep, curled up in the hay, got up unwillingly, and +lazily stretched out and straightened her hind legs one after the +other. Getting on his boots and stockings, taking his gun, and +carefully opening the creaking door of the barn, Levin went out +into the road. The coachmen were sleeping in their carriages, +the horses were dozing. Only one was lazily eating oats, dipping +its nose into the manger. It was still gray out-of-doors. + +"Why are you up so early, my dear?" the old woman, their hostess, +said, coming out of the hut and addressing him affectionately as +an old friend. + +"Going shooting, granny. Do I go this way to the marsh?" + +"Straight out at the back; by our threshing floor, my dear, and +hemp patches; there's a little footpath." Stepping carefully +with her sunburnt, bare feet, the old woman conducted Levin, and +moved back the fence for him by the threshing floor. + +"Straight on and you'll come to the marsh. Our lads drove the +cattle there yesterday evening." + +Laska ran eagerly forward along the little path. Levin followed +her with a light, rapid step, continually looking at the sky. He +hoped the sun would not be up before he reached the marsh. But +the sun did not delay. The moon, which had been bright when he +went out, by now shone only like a crescent of quicksilver. The +pink flush of dawn, which one could not help seeing before, now +had to be sought to be discerned at all. What were before +undefined, vague blurs in the distant countryside could now be +distinctly seen. They were sheaves of rye. The dew, not visible +till the sun was up, wetted Levin's legs and his blouse above his +belt in the high growing, fragrant hemp patch, from which the +pollen had already fallen out. In the transparent stillness of +morning the smallest sounds were audible. A bee flew by Levin's +ear with the whizzing sound of a bullet. He looked carefully, +and saw a second and a third. They were all flying from the +beehives behind the hedge, and they disappeared over the hemp +patch in the direction of the marsh. The path led straight to +the marsh. The marsh could be recognized by the mist which rose +from it, thicker in one place and thinner in another, so that the +reeds and willow bushes swayed like islands in this mist. At the +edge of the marsh and the road, peasant boys and men, who had +been herding for the night, were lying, and in the dawn all were +asleep under their coats. Not far from them were three hobbled +horses. One of them clanked a chain. Laska walked beside her +master, pressing a little forward and looking round. Passing the +sleeping peasants and reaching the first reeds, Levin examined +his pistols and let his dog off. One of the horses, a sleek, +dark-brown three-year-old, seeing the dog, started away, switched +its tail and snorted. The other horses too were frightened, and +splashing through the water with their hobbled legs, and drawing +their hoofs out of the thick mud with a squelching sound, they +bounded out of the marsh. Laska stopped, looking ironically at +the horses and inquiringly at Levin. Levin patted Laska, and +whistled as a sign that she might begin. + +Laska ran joyfully and anxiously through the slush that swayed +under her. + +Running into the marsh among the familiar scents of roots, marsh +plants, and slime, and the extraneous smell of horse dung, Laska +detected at once a smell that pervaded the whole marsh, the scent +of that strong-smelling bird that always excited her more than +any other. Here and there among the moss and marsh plants this +scent was very strong, but it was impossible to determine in +which direction it grew stronger or fainter. To find the +direction, she had to go farther away from the wind. Not feeling +the motion of her legs, Laska bounded with a stiff gallop, so +that at each bound she could stop short, to the right, away from +the wind that blew from the east before sunrise, and turned +facing the wind. Sniffing in the air with dilated nostrils, she +felt at once that not their tracks only but they themselves were +here before her, and not one, but many. Laska slackened her +speed. They were here, but where precisely she could not yet +determine. To find the very spot, she began to make a circle, +when suddenly her master's voice drew her off. "Laska! here?" he +asked, pointing her to a different direction. She stopped, +asking him if she had better not go on doing as she had begun. +But he repeated his command in an angry voice, pointing to a spot +covered with water, where there could not be anything. She +obeyed him, pretending she was looking, so as to please him, went +round it, and went back to her former position, and was at once +aware of the scent again. Now when he was not hindering her, she +knew what to do, and without looking at what was under her feet, +and to her vexation stumbling over a high stump into the water, +but righting herself with her strong, supple legs, she began +making the circle which was to make all clear to her. The scent +of them reached her, stronger and stronger, and more and more +defined, and all at once it became perfectly clear to her that +one of them was here, behind this tuft of reeds, five paces in +front of her; she stopped, and her whole body was still and +rigid. On her short legs she could see nothing in front of her, +but by the scent she knew it was sitting not more than five paces +off. She stood still, feeling more and more conscious of it, and +enjoying it in anticipation. Her tail was stretched straight and +tense, and only wagging at the extreme end. Her mouth was +slightly open, her ears raised. One ear had been turned wrong +side out as she ran up, and she breathed heavily but warily, and +still more warily looked round, but more with her eyes than her +head, to her master. He was coming along with the face she knew +so well, though the eyes were always terrible to her. He +stumbled over the stump as he came, and moved, as she thought, +extraordinarily slowly. She thought he came slowly, but he was +running. + +Noticing Laska's special attitude as she crouched on the ground, +as it were, scratching big prints with her hind paws, and with +her mouth slightly open, Levin knew she was pointing at grouse, +and with an inward prayer for luck, especially with the first +bird, he ran up to her. Coming quite close up to her, he could +from his height look beyond her, and he saw with his eyes what +she was seeing with her nose. In a space between two little +thickets, at a couple of yards' distance, he could see a +grouse. Turning its head, it was listening. Then lightly +preening and folding its wings, it disappeared round a corner +with a clumsy wag of its tail. + +"Fetch it, fetch it!" shouted Levin, giving Laska a shove from +behind. + +"But I can't go," thought Laska. "Where am I to go? From here I +feel them, but if I move forward I shall know nothing of where +they are or who they are." But then he shoved her with his knee, +and in an excited whisper said, "Fetch it, Laska." + +"Well, if that's what he wishes, I'll do it, but I can't answer +for myself now," she thought, and darted forward as fast as her +legs would carry her between the thick bushes. She scented +nothing now; she could only see and hear, without understanding +anything. + +Ten paces from her former place a grouse rose with a guttural cry +and the peculiar round sound of its wings. And immediately after +the shot it splashed heavily with its white breast on the wet +mire. Another bird did not linger, but rose behind Levin without +the dog. When Levin turned towards it, it was already some way +off. But his shot caught it. Flying twenty paces further, the +second grouse rose upwards, and whirling round like a ball, +dropped heavily on a dry place. + +"Come, this is going to be some good!" thought Levin, packing the +warm and fat grouse into his game bag. "Eh, Laska, will it be +good?" + +When Levin, after loading his gun, moved on, the sun had fully +risen, though unseen behind the storm-clouds. The moon had lost +all of its luster, and was like a white cloud in the sky. Not a +single star could be seen. The sedge, silvery with dew before, +now shone like gold. The stagnant pools were all like amber. +The blue of the grass had changed to yellow-green. The marsh +birds twittered and swarmed about the brook and upon the bushes +that glittered with dew and cast long shadows. A hawk woke up +and settled on a haycock, turning its head from side to side and +looking discontentedly at the marsh. Crows were flying about the +field, and a bare-legged boy was driving the horses to an old +man, who had got up from under his long coat and was combing his +hair. The smoke from the gun was white as milk over the green of +the grass. + +One of the boys ran up to Levin. + +"Uncle, there were ducks here yesterday!" he shouted to him, and +he walked a little way off behind him. + +And Levin was doubly pleased, in sight of the boy, who expressed +his approval, at killing three snipe, one after another, straight +off. + + +Chapter 13 + + +The sportsman's saying, that if the first beast or the first bird +is not missed, the day will be lucky, turned out correct. + +At ten o'clock Levin, weary, hungry, and happy after a tramp of +twenty miles, returned to his night's lodging with nineteen head +of fine game and one duck, which he tied to his belt, as it would +not go into the game bag. His companions had long been awake, +and had had time to get hungry and have breakfast. + +"Wait a bit, wait a bit, I know there are nineteen," said Levin, +counting a second time over the grouse and snipe, that looked so +much less important now, bent and dry and bloodstained, with +heads crooked aside, than they did when they were flying. + +The number was verified, and Stepan Arkadyevitch's envy pleased +Levin. He was pleased too on returning to find the man sent by +Kitty with a note was already there. + +"I am perfectly well and happy. If you were uneasy about me, you +can feel easier than ever. I've a new bodyguard, Marya +Vlasyevna,"--this was the midwife, a new and important personage +in Levin's domestic life. "She has come to have a look at me. +She found me perfectly well, and we have kept her till you are +back. All are happy and well, and please, don't be in a hurry to +come back, but, if the sport is good, stay another day." + +These two pleasures, his lucky shooting and the letter from his +wife, were so great that two slightly disagreeable incidents +passed lightly over Levin. One was that the chestnut trace +horse, who had been unmistakably overworked on the previous day, +was off his feed and out of sorts. The coachman said he was +"Overdriven yesterday, Konstantin Dmitrievitch. Yes, indeed! +driven ten miles with no sense!" + +The other unpleasant incident, which for the first minute +destroyed his good humor, though later he laughed at it a great +deal, was to find that of all the provisions Kitty had provided +in such abundance that one would have thought there was enough +for a week, nothing was left. On his way back, tired and hungry +from shooting, Levin had so distinct a vision of meat-pies that +as he approached the hut he seemed to smell and taste them, as +Laska had smelt the game, and he immediately told Philip to give +him some. It appeared that there were no pies left, nor even any +chicken. + +"Well, this fellow's appetite!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, +laughing and pointing at Vassenka Veslovsky. "I never suffer +from loss of appetite, but he's really marvelous!..." + +"Well, it can't be helped," said Levin, looking gloomily at +Veslovsky. "Well, Philip, give me some beef, then." + +"The beef's been eaten, and the bones given to the dogs," +answered Philip. + +Levin was so hurt that he said, in a tone of vexation, "You might +have left me something!" and he felt ready to cry. + +"Then put away the game," he said in a shaking voice to Philip, +trying not to look at Vassenka, "and cover them with some +nettles. And you might at least ask for some milk for me." + +But when he had drunk some milk, he felt ashamed immediately at +having shown his annoyance to a stranger, and he began to laugh +at his hungry mortification. + +In the evening they went shooting again, and Veslovsky had +several successful shots, and in the night they drove home. + +Their homeward journey was as lively as their drive out had been. +Veslovsky sang songs and related with enjoyment his adventures +with the peasants, who had regaled him with vodka, and said to +him, "Excuse our homely ways," and his night's adventures with +kiss-in-the-ring and the servant-girl and the peasant, who had +asked him was he married, and on learning that he was not, said +to him, "Well, mind you don't run after other men's wives--you'd +better get one of your own." These words had particularly amused +Veslovsky. + +"Altogether, I've enjoyed our outing awfully. And you, Levin?" + +"I have, very much," Levin said quite sincerely. It was +particularly delightful to him to have got rid of the hostility +he had been feeling towards Vassenka Veslovsky at home, and to +feel instead the most friendly disposition to him. + + + +Chapter 14 + + +Next day at ten o'clock Levin, who had already gone his rounds, +knocked at the room where Vassenka had been put for the night. + +"_Entrez!_" Veslovsky called to him. "Excuse me, I've only just +finished my ablutions," he said, smiling, standing before him in +his underclothes only. + +"Don't mind me, please." Levin sat down in the window. "Have +you slept well?" + +"Like the dead. What sort of day is it for shooting?" + +"What will you take, tea or coffee?" + +"Neither. I'll wait till lunch. I'm really ashamed. I suppose +the ladies are down? A walk now would be capital. You show me +your horses." + +After walking about the garden, visiting the stable, and even +doing some gymnastic exercises together on the parallel bars, +Levin returned to the house with his guest, and went with him +into the drawing room. + +"We had splendid shooting, and so many delightful experiences!" +said Veslovsky, going up to Kitty, who was sitting at the +samovar. "What a pity ladies are cut off from these delights!" + +"Well, I suppose he must say something to the lady of the house," +Levin said to himself. Again he fancied something in the smile, +in the all-conquering air with which their guest addressed +Kitty.... + +The princess, sitting on the other side of the table with Marya +Vlasyevna and Stepan Arkadyevitch, called Levin to her side, and +began to talk to him about moving to Moscow for Kitty's +confinement, and getting ready rooms for them. Just as Levin +had disliked all the trivial preparations for his wedding, as +derogatory to the grandeur of the event, now he felt still more +offensive the preparations for the approaching birth, the date of +which they reckoned, it seemed, on their fingers. He tried to +turn a deaf ear to these discussions of the best patterns of long +clothes for the coming baby; tried to turn away and avoid seeing +the mysterious, endless strips of knitting, the triangles of +linen, and so on, to which Dolly attached special importance. +The birth of a son (he was certain it would be a son) which was +promised him, but which he still could not believe in--so +marvelous it seemed--presented itself to his mind, on one hand, +as a happiness so immense, and therefore so incredible; on the +other, as an event so mysterious, that this assumption of a +definite knowledge of what would be, and consequent preparation +for it, as for something ordinary that did happen to people, +jarred on him as confusing and humiliating. + +But the princess did not understand his feelings, and put down +his reluctance to think and talk about it to carelessness and +indifference, and so she gave him no peace. She had commissioned +Stepan Arkadyevitch to look at a flat, and now she called Levin +up. + +"I know nothing about it, princess. Do as you think fit," he +said. + +"You must decide when you will move." + +"I really don't know. I know millions of children are born away +from Moscow, and doctors...why..." + +"But if so..." + +"Oh, no, as Kitty wishes." + +"We can't talk to Kitty about it! Do you want me to frighten +her? Why, this spring Natalia Golitzina died from having an +ignorant doctor." + +"I will do just what you say," he said gloomily. + +The princess began talking to him, but he did not hear her. +Though the conversation with the princess had indeed jarred upon +him, he was gloomy, not on account of that conversation, but from +what he saw at the samovar. + +"No, it's impossible," he thought, glancing now and then at +Vassenka bending over Kitty, telling her something with his +charming smile, and at her, flushed and disturbed. + +There was something not nice in Vassenka's attitude, in his eyes, +in his smile. Levin even saw something not nice in Kitty's +attitude and look. And again the light died away in his eyes. +Again, as before, all of a sudden, without the slightest +transition, he felt cast down from a pinnacle of happiness, +peace, and dignity, into an abyss of despair, rage, and +humiliation. Again everything and everyone had become hateful to +him. + +"You do just as you think best, princess," he said again, looking +round. + +"Heavy is the cap of Monomach," Stepan Arkadyevitch said +playfully, hinting, evidently, not simply at the princess's +conversation, but at the cause of Levin's agitation, which he had +noticed. + +"How late you are today, Dolly!" + +Everyone got up to greet Darya Alexandrovna. Vassenka only rose +for an instant, and with the lack of courtesy to ladies +characteristic of the modern young man, he scarcely bowed, and +resumed his conversation again, laughing at something. + +"I've been worried about Masha. She did not sleep well, and is +dreadfully tiresome today," said Dolly. + +The conversation Vassenka had started with Kitty was running on +the same lines as on the previous evening, discussing Anna, and +whether love is to be put higher than worldly considerations. +Kitty disliked the conversation, and she was disturbed both by +the subject and the tone in which it was conducted, and also by +the knowledge of the effect it would have on her husband. But +she was too simple and innocent to know how to cut short this +conversation, or even to conceal the superficial pleasure +afforded her by the young man's very obvious admiration. She +wanted to stop it, but she did not know what to do. Whatever she +did she knew would be observed by her husband, and the worst +interpretation put on it. And, in fact, when she asked Dolly +what was wrong with Masha, and Vassenka, waiting till this +uninteresting conversation was over, began to gaze indifferently +at Dolly, the question struck Levin as an unnatural and +disgusting piece of hypocrisy. + +"What do you say, shall we go and look for mushrooms today?" said +Dolly. + +"By all means, please, and I shall come too," said Kitty, and she +blushed. She wanted from politeness to ask Vassenka whether he +would come, and she did not ask him. "Where are you going, +Kostya?" she asked her husband with a guilty face, as he passed +by her with a resolute step. This guilty air confirmed all his +suspicions. + +"The mechanician came when I was away; I haven't seen him yet," +he said, not looking at her. + +He went downstairs, but before he had time to leave his study he +heard his wife's familiar footsteps running with reckless speed +to him. + +"What do you want?" he said to her shortly. "We are busy." + +"I beg your pardon," she said to the German mechanician; "I want +a few words with my husband." + +The German would have left the room, but Levin said to him: + +"Don't disturb yourself." + +"The train is at three?" queried the German. "I mustn't be +late." + +Levin did not answer him, but walked out himself with his wife. + +"Well, what have you to say to me?" he said to her in French. + +He did not look her in the face, and did not care to see that she +in her condition was trembling all over, and had a piteous, +crushed look. + +"I...I want to say that we can't go on like this; that this +is misery..." she said. + +"The servants are here at the sideboard," he said angrily; "don't +make a scene." + +"Well, let's go in here!" + +They were standing in the passage. Kitty would have gone into +the next room, but there the English governess was giving Tanya a +lesson. + +"Well, come into the garden." + +In the garden they came upon a peasant weeding the path. And no +longer considering that the peasant could see her tear-stained +and his agitated face, that they looked like people fleeing from +some disaster, they went on with rapid steps, feeling that they +must speak out and clear up misunderstandings, must be alone +together, and so get rid of the misery they were both feeling. + +"We can't go on like this! It's misery! I am wretched; you are +wretched. What for?" she said, when they had at last reached a +solitary garden seat at a turn in the lime tree avenue. + +"But tell me one thing: was there in his tone anything unseemly, +not nice, humiliatingly horrible?" he said, standing before her +again in the same position with his clenched fists on his chest, +as he had stood before her that night. + +"Yes," she said in a shaking voice; "but, Kostya, surely you see +I'm not to blame? All the morning I've been trying to take a +tone...but such people ...Why did he come? How happy we were!" +she said, breathless with the sobs that shook her. + +Although nothing had been pursuing them, and there was nothing to +run away from, and they could not possibly have found anything +very delightful on that garden seat, the gardener saw with +astonishment that they passed him on their way home with +comforted and radiant faces. + + + +Chapter 15 + + +After escorting his wife upstairs, Levin went to Dolly's part of +the house. Darya Alexandrovna, for her part, was in great +distress too that day. She was walking about the room, talking +angrily to a little girl, who stood in the corner roaring. + +"And you shall stand all day in the corner, and have your dinner +all alone, and not see one of your dolls, and I won't make you a +new frock," she said, not knowing how to punish her. + +"Oh, she is a disgusting child!" she turned to Levin. "Where +does she get such wicked propensities?" + +"Why, what has she done?" Levin said without much interest, for +he had wanted to ask her advice, and so was annoyed that he had +come at an unlucky moment. + +"Grisha and she went into the raspberries, and there...I can't +tell you really what she did. It's a thousand pities Miss +Elliot's not with us. This one sees to nothing--she's a +machine.... _Figurez-vous que la petite_?..." + +And Darya Alexandrovna described Masha's crime. + +"That proves nothing; it's not a question of evil propensities at +all, it's simply mischief," Levin assured her. + +"But you are upset about something? What have you come for?" +asked Dolly. "What's going on there?" + +And in the tone of her question Levin heard that it would be easy +for him to say what he had meant to say. + +"I've not been in there, I've been alone in the garden with +Kitty. We've had a quarrel for the second time since...Stiva +came." + +Dolly looked at him with her shrewd, comprehending eyes. + +"Come, tell me, honor bright, has there been...not in Kitty, but +in that gentleman's behavior, a tone which might be unpleasant-- +not unpleasant, but horrible, offensive to a husband?" + +"You mean, how shall I say.... Stay, stay in the corner!" she +said to Masha, who, detecting a faint smile in her mother's face, +had been turning round. "The opinion of the world would be that +he is behaving as young men do behave. _Il fait la cour a une +jeune et jolie femme_, and a husband who's a man of the world +should only be flattered by it." + +"Yes, yes," said Levin gloomily; "but you noticed it?" + +"Not only I, but Stiva noticed it. Just after breakfast he said +to me in so many words, _Je crois que Veslovsky fait un petit brin +de cour a Kitty_." + +"Well, that's all right then; now I'm satisfied. I'll send him +away," said Levin. + +"What do you mean! Are you crazy?" Dolly cried in horror; +"nonsense, Kostya, only think!" she said, laughing. "You can go +now to Fanny," she said to Masha. "No, if you wish it, I'll +speak to Stiva. He'll take him away. He can say you're +expecting visitors. Altogether he doesn't fit into the house." + +"No, no, I'll do it myself." + +"But you'll quarrel with him?" + +"Not a bit. I shall so enjoy it," Levin said, his eyes flashing +with real enjoyment. "Come, forgive her, Dolly, she won't do it +again," he said of the little sinner, who had not gone to Fanny, +but was standing irresolutely before her mother, waiting and +looking up from under her brows to catch her mother's eye. + +The mother glanced at her. The child broke into sobs, hid her +face on her mother's lap, and Dolly laid her thin, tender hand on +her head. + +"And what is there in common between us and him?" thought Levin, +and he went off to look for Veslovsky. + +As he passed through the passage he gave orders for the carriage +to be got ready to drive to the station. + +"The spring was broken yesterday," said the footman. + +"Well, the covered trap, then, and make haste. Where's the +visitor?" + +"The gentleman's gone to his room." + +Levin came upon Veslovsky at the moment when the latter, having +unpacked his things from his trunk, and laid out some new songs, +was putting on his gaiters to go out riding. + +Whether there was something exceptional in Levin's face, or that +Vassenka was himself conscious that _ce petit brin de cour_ he was +making was out of place in this family, but he was somewhat (as +much as a young man in society can be) disconcerted at Levin's +entrance. + +"You ride in gaiters?" + +"Yes, it's much cleaner," said Vassenka, putting his fat leg on a +chair, fastening the bottom hook, and smiling with simple-hearted +good humor. + +He was undoubtedly a good-natured fellow, and Levin felt sorry +for him and ashamed of himself, as his host, when he saw the shy +look on Vassenka's face. + +On the table lay a piece of stick which they had broken together +that morning, trying their strength. Levin took the fragment in +his hands and began smashing it up, breaking bits off the stick, +not knowing how to begin. + +"I wanted...." He paused, but suddenly, remembering Kitty and +everything that had happened, he said, looking him resolutely in +the face: "I have ordered the horses to be put-to for you." + +"How so?" Vassenka began in surprise. "To drive where?" + +"For you to drive to the station," Levin said gloomily. + +"Are you going away, or has something happened?" + +"It happens that I expect visitors," said Levin, his strong +fingers more and more rapidly breaking off the ends of the split +stick. "And I'm not expecting visitors, and nothing has +happened, but I beg you to go away. You can explain my rudeness +as you like." + +Vassenka drew himself up. + +"I beg you to explain..." he said with dignity, understanding at +last. + +"I can't explain," Levin said softly and deliberately, trying to +control the trembling of his jaw; "and you'd better not ask." + +And as the split ends were all broken off, Levin clutched the +thick ends in his finger, broke the stick in two, and carefully +caught the end as it fell. + +Probably the sight of those nervous fingers, of the muscles he +had proved that morning at gymnastics, of the glittering eyes, +the soft voice, and quivering jaws, convinced Vassenka better +than any words. He bowed, shrugging his shoulders, and smiling +contemptuously. + +"Can I not see Oblonsky?" + +The shrug and the smile did not irritate Levin. + +"What else was there for him to do?" he thought. + +"I'll send him to you at once." + +"What madness is this?" Stepan Arkadyevitch said when, after +hearing from his friend that he was being turned out of the +house, he found Levin in the garden, where he was walking about +waiting for his guest's departure. "_Mais c'est ridicule!_ What +fly has stung you? _Mais c'est du dernier ridicule!_ What did you +think, if a young man..." + +But the place where Levin had been stung was evidently still +sore, for he turned pale again, when Stepan Arkadyevitch would +have enlarged on the reason, and he himself cut him short. + +"Please don't go into it! I can't help it. I feel ashamed of +how I'm treating you and him. But it won't be, I imagine, a +great grief to him to go, and his presence was distasteful to me +and to my wife." + +"But it's insulting to him! _Et puis c'est ridicule_." + +"And to me it's both insulting and distressing! And I'm not at +fault in any way, and there's no need for me to suffer." + +"Well, this I didn't expect of you! _On peut etre jaloux, mais +a ce point, c'est du dernier ridicule!_" + +Levin turned quickly, and walked away from him into the depths of +the avenue, and he went on walking up and down alone. Soon he +heard the rumble of the trap, and saw from behind the trees how +Vassenka, sitting in the hay (unluckily there was no seat in the +trap) in his Scotch cap, was driven along the avenue, jolting up +and down over the ruts. + +"What's this?" Levin thought, when a footman ran out of the house +and stopped the trap. It was the mechanician, whom Levin had +totally forgotten. The mechanician, bowing low, said something +to Veslovsky, then clambered into the trap, and they drove off +together. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch and the princess were much upset by Levin's +action. And he himself felt not only in the highest degree +_ridicule_, but also utterly guilty and disgraced. But remembering +what sufferings he and his wife had been through, when he asked +himself how he should act another time, he answered that he +should do just the same again. + +In spite of all this, towards the end of that day, everyone +except the princess, who could not pardon Levin's action, became +extraordinarily lively and good humored, like children after a +punishment or grown-up people after a dreary, ceremonious +reception, so that by the evening Vassenka's dismissal was spoken +of, in the absence of the princess, as though it were some remote +event. And Dolly, who had inherited her father's gift of +humorous storytelling, made Varenka helpless with laughter as she +related for the third and fourth time, always with fresh humorous +additions, how she had only just put on her new shoes for the +benefit of the visitor, and on going into the drawing room, heard +suddenly the rumble of the trap. And who should be in the trap +but Vassenka himself, with his Scotch cap, and his songs and his +gaiters, and all, sitting in the hay. + +"If only you'd ordered out the carriage! But no! and then I +hear: 'Stop!' Oh, I thought they've relented. I look out, and +behold a fat German being sat down by him and driving away.... +And my new shoes all for nothing!..." + + + +Chapter 16 + + +Darya Alexandrovna carried out her intention and went to see +Anna. She was sorry to annoy her sister and to do anything Levin +disliked. She quite understood how right the Levins were in not +wishing to have anything to do with Vronsky. But she felt she +must go and see Anna, and show her that her feelings could not be +changed, in spite of the change in her position. That she might +be independent of the Levins in this expedition, Darya +Alexandrovna sent to the village to hire horses for the drive; +but Levin learning of it went to her to protest. + +"What makes you suppose that I dislike your going? But, even if +I did dislike it, I should still more dislike your not taking my +horses," he said. "You never told me that you were going for +certain. Hiring horses in the village is disagreeable to me, +and, what's of more importance, they'll undertake the job and +never get you there. I have horses. And if you don't want to +wound me, you'll take mine." + +Darya Alexandrovna had to consent, and on the day fixed Levin had +ready for his sister-in-law a set of four horses and relays, +getting them together from the farm- and saddle-horses--not at +all a smart-looking set, but capable of taking Darya Alexandrovna +the whole distance in a single day. At that moment, when horses +were wanted for the princess, who was going, and for the midwife, +it was a difficult matter for Levin to make up the number, but +the duties of hospitality would not let him allow Darya +Alexandrovna to hire horses when staying in his house. Moreover, +he was well aware that the twenty roubles that would be asked for +the journey were a serious matter for her; Darya Alexandrovna's +pecuniary affairs, which were in a very unsatisfactory state, +were taken to heart by the Levins as if they were their own. + +Darya Alexandrovna, by Levin's advice, started before daybreak. +The road was good, the carriage comfortable, the horses trotted +along merrily, and on the box, besides the coachman, sat the +counting-house clerk, whom Levin was sending instead of a groom +for greater security. Darya Alexandrovna dozed and waked up only +on reaching the inn where the horses were to be changed. + +After drinking tea at the same well-to-do peasant's with whom +Levin had stayed on the way to Sviazhsky's, and chatting with the +women about their children, and with the old man about Count +Vronsky, whom the latter praised very highly, Darya Alexandrovna, +at ten o'clock, went on again. At home, looking after her +children, she had no time to think. So now, after this journey +of four hours, all the thoughts she had suppressed before rushed +swarming into her brain, and she thought over all her life as she +never had before, and from the most different points of view. +Her thoughts seemed strange even to herself. At first she +thought about the children, about whom she was uneasy, although +the princess and Kitty (she reckoned more upon her) had promised +to look after them. "If only Masha does not begin her naughty +tricks, if Grisha isn't kicked by a horse, and Lily's stomach +isn't upset again!" she thought. But these questions of the +present were succeeded by questions of the immediate future. She +began thinking how she had to get a new flat in Moscow for the +coming winter, to renew the drawing room furniture, and to make +her elder girl a cloak. Then questions of the more remote future +occurred to her: how she was to place her children in the world. +"The girls are all right," she thought; "but the boys?" + +"It's very well that I'm teaching Grisha, but of course that's +only because I am free myself now, I'm not with child. Stiva, +of course, there's no counting on. And with the help of +good-natured friends I can bring them up; but if there's another +baby coming?..." And the thought struck her how untruly it was +said that the curse laid on woman was that in sorrow she should +bring forth children. + +"The birth itself, that's nothing; but the months of carrying the +child--that's what's so intolerable," she thought, picturing to +herself her last pregnancy, and the death of the last baby. And +she recalled the conversation she had just had with the young +woman at the inn. On being asked whether she had any children, +the handsome young woman had answered cheerfully: + +"I had a girl baby, but God set me free; I buried her last Lent." + +"Well, did you grieve very much for her?" asked Darya +Alexandrovna. + +"Why grieve? The old man has grandchildren enough as it is. It +was only a trouble. No working, nor nothing. Only a tie." + +This answer had struck Darya Alexandrovna as revolting in spite +of the good-natured and pleasing face of the young woman; but now +she could not help recalling these words. In those cynical words +there was indeed a grain of truth. + +"Yes, altogether," thought Darya Alexandrovna, looking back over +her whole existence during those fifteen years of her married +life, "pregnancy, sickness, mental incapacity, indifference to +everything, and most of all--hideousness. Kitty, young and +pretty as she is, even Kitty has lost her looks; and I when I'm +with child become hideous, I know it. The birth, the agony, the +hideous agonies, that last moment...then the nursing, the +sleepless nights, the fearful pains...." + +Darya Alexandrovna shuddered at the mere recollection of the pain +from sore breasts which she had suffered with almost every child. +"Then the children's illnesses, that everlasting apprehension; +then bringing them up; evil propensities" (she thought of little +Masha's crime among the raspberries), "education, Latin--it's all +so incomprehensible and difficult. And on the top of it all, the +death of these children." And there rose again before her +imagination the cruel memory, that always tore her mother's +heart, of the death of her last little baby, who had died of +croup; his funeral, the callous indifference of all at the little +pink coffin, and her own torn heart, and her lonely anguish at +the sight of the pale little brow with its projecting temples, +and the open, wondering little mouth seen in the coffin at the +moment when it was being covered with the little pink lid with a +cross braided on it. + +"And all this, what's it for? What is to come of it all? That +I'm wasting my life, never having a moment's peace, either with +child, or nursing a child, forever irritable, peevish, wretched +myself and worrying others, repulsive to my husband, while the +children are growing up unhappy, badly educated, and penniless. +Even now, if it weren't for spending the summer at the Levins', +I don't know how we should be managing to live. Of course Kostya +and Kitty have so much tact that we don't feel it; but it can't +go on. They'll have children, they won't be able to keep us; +it's a drag on them as it is. How is papa, who has hardly +anything left for himself, to help us? So that I can't even +bring the children up by myself, and may find it hard with the +help of other people, at the cost of humiliation. Why, even if +we suppose the greatest good luck, that the children don't die, +and I bring them up somehow. At the very best they'll simply be +decent people. That's all I can hope for. And to gain simply +that--what agonies, what toil!... One's whole life ruined!" +Again she recalled what the young peasant woman had said, and +again she was revolted at the thought; but she could not help +admitting that there was a grain of brutal truth in the words. + +"Is it far now, Mihail?" Darya Alexandrovna asked the +counting house clerk, to turn her mind from thoughts that were +frightening her. + +"From this village, they say, it's five miles." The carriage +drove along the village street and onto a bridge. On the bridge +was a crowd of peasant women with coils of ties for the sheaves +on their shoulders, gaily and noisily chattering. They stood +still on the bridge, staring inquisitively at the carriage. All +the faces turned to Darya Alexandrovna looked to her healthy and +happy, making her envious of their enjoyment of life. "They're +all living, they're all enjoying life," Darya Alexandrovna still +mused when she had passed the peasant women and was driving +uphill again at a trot, seated comfortably on the soft springs of +the old carriage, "while I, let out, as it were from prison, from +the world of worries that fret me to death, am only looking about +me now for an instant. They all live; those peasant women and my +sister Natalia and Varenka and Anna, whom I am going to see--all, +but not I. + +"And they attack Anna. What for? am I any better? I have, +anyway, a husband I love--not as I should like to love him, still +I do love him, while Anna never loved hers. How is she to blame? +She wants to live. God has put that in our hearts. Very likely +I should have done the same. Even to this day I don't feel sure +I did right in listening to her at that terrible time when she +came to me in Moscow. I ought then to have cast off my husband +and have begun my life fresh. I might have loved and have been +loved in reality. And is it any better as it is? I don't +respect him. He's necessary to me," she thought about her +husband, "and I put up with him. Is that any better? At that +time I could still have been admired, I had beauty left me +still," Darya Alexandrovna pursued her thoughts, and she would +have liked to look at herself in the looking glass. She had a +traveling looking glass in her handbag, and she wanted to take +it out; but looking at the backs of the coachman and the swaying +counting house clerk, she felt that she would be ashamed if +either of them were to look round, and she did not take out the +glass. + +But without looking in the glass, she thought that even now it +was not too late; and she thought of Sergey Ivanovitch, who was +always particularly attentive to her, of Stiva's good-hearted +friend, Turovtsin, who had helped her nurse her children through +the scarlatina, and was in love with her. And there was someone +else, a quite young man, who--her husband had told her it as a +joke--thought her more beautiful than either of her sisters. And +the most passionate and impossible romances rose before Darya +Alexandrovna's imagination. "Anna did quite right, and certainly +I shall never reproach her for it. She is happy, she makes +another person happy, and she's not broken down as I am, but most +likely just as she always was, bright, clever, open to every +impression," thought Darya Alexandrovna,--and a sly smile curved +her lips, for, as she pondered on Anna's love affair, Darya +Alexandrovna constructed on parallel lines an almost identical +love affair for herself, with an imaginary composite figure, the +ideal man who was in love with her. She, like Anna, confessed +the whole affair to her husband. And the amazement and +perplexity of Stepan Arkadyevitch at this avowal made her smile. + +In such daydreams she reached the turning of the highroad that +led to Vozdvizhenskoe. + + + +Chapter 17 + + +The coachman pulled up his four horses and looked round to the +right, to a field of rye, where some peasants were sitting on a +cart. The counting house clerk was just going to jump down, but +on second thoughts he shouted peremptorily to the peasants +instead, and beckoned to them to come up. The wind, that seemed +to blow as they drove, dropped when the carriage stood still; +gadflies settled on the steaming horses that angrily shook them +off. The metallic clank of a whetstone against a scythe, that +came to them from the cart, ceased. One of the peasants got up +and came towards the carriage. + +"Well, you are slow!" the counting house clerk shouted angrily to +the peasant who was stepping slowly with his bare feet over the +ruts of the rough dry road. "Come along, do!" + +A curly-headed old man with a bit of bast tied round his hair, +and his bent back dark with perspiration, came towards the +carriage, quickening his steps, and took hold of the mud-guard +with his sunburnt hand. + +"Vozdvizhenskoe, the manor house? the count's?" he repeated; "go +on to the end of this track. Then turn to the left. Straight +along the avenue and you'll come right upon it. But whom do you +want? The count himself?" + +"Well, are they at home, my good man?" Darya Alexandrovna said +vaguely, not knowing how to ask about Anna, even of this peasant. + +"At home for sure," said the peasant, shifting from one bare foot +to the other, and leaving a distinct print of five toes and a +heel in the dust. "Sure to be at home," he repeated, evidently +eager to talk. "Only yesterday visitors arrived. There's a +sight of visitors come. What do you want?" He turned round and +called to a lad, who was shouting something to him from the cart. +"Oh! They all rode by here not long since, to look at a reaping +machine. They'll be home by now. And who will you be belonging +to?..." + +"We've come a long way," said the coachman, climbing onto the +box. "So it's not far?" + +"I tell you, it's just here. As soon as you get out..." he said, +keeping hold all the while of the carriage. + +A healthy-looking, broad-shouldered young fellow came up too. + +"What, is it laborers they want for the harvest?" he asked. + +"I don't know, my boy." + +"So you keep to the left, and you'll come right on it," said the +peasant, unmistakably loth to let the travelers go, and eager to +converse. + +The coachman started the horses, but they were only just turning +off when the peasant shouted: "Stop! Hi, friend! Stop!" called +the two voices. The coachman stopped. + +"They're coming! They're yonder!" shouted the peasant. "See +what a turn-out!" he said, pointing to four persons on horseback, +and two in a _char-a-banc_, coming along the road. + +They were Vronsky with a jockey, Veslovsky and Anna on horseback, +and Princess Varvara and Sviazhsky in the _char-a-banc_. They had +gone out to look at the working of a new reaping machine. + +When the carriage stopped, the party on horseback were coming at +a walking pace. Anna was in front beside Veslovsky. Anna, +quietly walking her horse, a sturdy English cob with cropped mane +and short tail, her beautiful head with her black hair straying +loose under her high hat, her full shoulders, her slender waist +in her black riding habit, and all the ease and grace of her +deportment, impressed Dolly. + +For the first minute it seemed to her unsuitable for Anna to be +on horseback. The conception of riding on horseback for a lady +was, in Darya Alexandrovna's mind, associated with ideas of +youthful flirtation and frivolity, which, in her opinion, was +unbecoming in Anna's position. But when she had scrutinized her, +seeing her closer, she was at once reconciled to her riding. In +spite of her elegance, everything was so simple, quiet, and +dignified in the attitude, the dress and the movements of Anna, +that nothing could have been more natural. + +Beside Anna, on a hot-looking gray cavalry horse, was Vassenka +Veslovsky in his Scotch cap with floating ribbons, his stout +legs stretched out in front, obviously pleased with his own +appearance. Darya Alexandrovna could not suppress a good-humored +smile as she recognized him. Behind rode Vronsky on a dark bay +mare, obviously heated from galloping. He was holding her in, +pulling at the reins. + +After him rode a little man in the dress of a jockey. Sviazhsky +and Princess Varvara in a new _char-a-banc_ with a big, raven-black +trotting horse, overtook the party on horseback. + +Anna's face suddenly beamed with a joyful smile at the instant +when, in the little figure huddled in a corner of the old +carriage, she recognized Dolly. She uttered a cry, started in +the saddle, and set her horse into a gallop. On reaching the +carriage she jumped off without assistance, and holding up her +riding habit, she ran up to greet Dolly. + +"I thought it was you and dared not think it. How delightful! +You can't fancy how glad I am!" she said, at one moment pressing +her face against Dolly and kissing her, and at the next holding +her off and examining her with a smile. + +"Here's a delightful surprise, Alexey!" she said, looking round +at Vronsky, who had dismounted, and was walking towards them. + +Vronsky, taking off his tall gray hat, went up to Dolly. + +"You wouldn't believe how glad we are to see you," he said, +giving peculiar significance to the words, and showing his strong +white teeth in a smile. + +Vassenka Veslovsky, without getting off his horse, took off his +cap and greeted the visitor by gleefully waving the ribbons over +his head. + +"That's Princess Varvara," Anna said in reply to a glance of +inquiry from Dolly as the _char-a-banc_ drove up. + +"Ah!" said Darya Alexandrovna, and unconsciously her face +betrayed her dissatisfaction. + +Princess Varvara was her husband's aunt, and she had long known +her, and did not respect her. She knew that Princess Varvara had +passed her whole life toadying on her rich relations, but that +she should now be sponging on Vronsky, a man who was nothing to +her, mortified Dolly on account of her kinship with her husband. +Anna noticed Dolly's expression, and was disconcerted by it. She +blushed, dropped her riding habit, and stumbled over it. + +Darya Alexandrovna went up to the _char-a-banc_ and coldly greeted +Princess Varvara. Sviazhsky too she knew. He inquired how his +queer friend with the young wife was, and running his eyes over +the ill-matched horses and the carriage with its patched +mud-guards, proposed to the ladies that they should get into the +_char-a-banc_. + +"And I'll get into this vehicle," he said. "The horse is quiet, +and the princess drives capitally." + +"No, stay as you were," said Anna, coming up, "and we'll go in +the carriage," and taking Dolly's arm, she drew her away. + +Darya Alexandrovna's eyes were fairly dazzled by the elegant +carriage of a pattern she had never seen before, the splendid +horses, and the elegant and gorgeous people surrounding her. But +what struck her most of all was the change that had taken place +in Anna, whom she knew so well and loved. Any other woman, a +less close observer, not knowing Anna before, or not having +thought as Darya Alexandrovna had been thinking on the road, +would not have noticed anything special in Anna. But now Dolly +was struck by that temporary beauty, which is only found in +women during the moments of love, and which she saw now in Anna's +face. Everything in her face, the clearly marked dimples in her +cheeks and chin, the line of her lips, the smile which, as it +were, fluttered about her face, the brilliance of her eyes, the +grace and rapidity of her movements, the fulness of the notes of +her voice, even the manner in which, with a sort of angry +friendliness, she answered Veslovsky when he asked permission to +get on her cob, so as to teach it to gallop with the right leg +foremost--it was all peculiarly fascinating, and it seemed as if +she were herself aware of it, and rejoicing in it. + +When both the women were seated in the carriage, a sudden +embarrassment came over both of them. Anna was disconcerted by +the intent look of inquiry Dolly fixed upon her. Dolly was +embarrassed because after Sviazhsky's phrase about "this +vehicle," she could not help feeling ashamed of the dirty old +carriage in which Anna was sitting with her. The coachman Philip +and the counting house clerk were experiencing the same +sensation. The counting house clerk, to conceal his confusion, +busied himself settling the ladies, but Philip the coachman +became sullen, and was bracing himself not to be overawed in +future by this external superiority. He smiled ironically, +looking at the raven horse, and was already deciding in his own +mind that this smart trotter in the _char-a-banc_ was only good for +_promenade_, and wouldn't do thirty miles straight off in the heat. + +The peasants had all got up from the cart and were inquisitively +and mirthfully staring at the meeting of the friends, making +their comments on it. + +"They're pleased, too; haven't seen each other for a long while," +said the curly-headed old man with the bast round his hair. + +"I say, Uncle Gerasim, if we could take that raven horse now, to +cart the corn, that 'ud be quick work!" + +"Look-ee! Is that a woman in breeches?" said one of them, +pointing to Vassenka Veslovsky sitting in a side saddle. + +"Nay, a man! See how smartly he's going it!" + +"Eh, lads! seems we're not going to sleep, then?" + +"What chance of sleep today!" said the old man, with a sidelong +look at the sun. "Midday's past, look-ee! Get your hooks, and +come along!" + + + +Chapter 18 + + +Anna looked at Dolly's thin, care-worn face, with its wrinkles +filled with dust from the road, and she was on the point of +saying what she was thinking, that is, that Dolly had got +thinner. But, conscious that she herself had grown handsomer, +and that Dolly's eyes were telling her so, she sighed and began +to speak about herself. + +"You are looking at me," she said, "and wondering how I can be +happy in my position? Well! it's shameful to confess, but I... +I'm inexcusably happy. Something magical has happened to me, +like a dream, when you're frightened, panic-stricken, and all of +a sudden you wake up and all the horrors are no more. I have +waked up. I have lived through the misery, the dread, and now +for a long while past, especially since we've been here, I've +been so happy!..." she said, with a timid smile of inquiry +looking at Dolly. + +"How glad I am!" said Dolly smiling, involuntarily speaking more +coldly than she wanted to. "I'm very glad for you. Why haven't +you written to me?" + +"Why?... Because I hadn't the courage.... You forget my +position..." + +"To me? Hadn't the courage? If you knew how I...I look at..." + +Darya Alexandrovna wanted to express her thoughts of the morning, +but for some reason it seemed to her now out of place to do so. + +"But of that we'll talk later. What's this, what are all these +buildings?" she asked, wanting to change the conversation and +pointing to the red and green roofs that came into view behind +the green hedges of acacia and lilac. "Quite a little town." + +But Anna did not answer. + +"No, no! How do you look at my position, what do you think of +it?" she asked. + +"I consider..." Darya Alexandrovna was beginning, but at that +instant Vassenka Veslovsky, having brought the cob to gallop with +the right leg foremost, galloped past them, bumping heavily up +and down in his short jacket on the chamois leather of the +side saddle. "He's doing it, Anna Arkadyevna!" he shouted. + +Anna did not even glance at him; but again it seemed to Darya +Alexandrovna out of place to enter upon such a long conversation +in the carriage, and so she cut short her thought. + +"I don't think anything," she said, "but I always loved you, and +if one loves anyone, one loves the whole person, just as they +are and not as one would like them to be...." + +Anna, taking her eyes off her friend's face and dropping her +eyelids (this was a new habit Dolly had not seen in her before), +pondered, trying to penetrate the full significance of the words. +And obviously interpreting them as she would have wished, she +glanced at Dolly. + +"If you had any sins," she said, "they would all be forgiven you +for your coming to see me and these words." + +And Dolly saw that tears stood in her eyes. She pressed Anna's +hand in silence. + +"Well, what are these buildings? How many there are of them!" +After a moment's silence she repeated her question. + +"These are the servants' houses, barns, and stables," answered +Anna. "And there the park begins. It had all gone to ruin, but +Alexey had everything renewed. He is very fond of this place, +and, what I never expected, he has become intensely interested in +looking after it. But his is such a rich nature! Whatever he +takes up, he does splendidly. So far from being bored by it, he +works with passionate interest. He--with his temperament as I +know it--he has become careful and businesslike, a first-rate +manager, he positively reckons every penny in his management of +the land. But only in that. When it's a question of tens of +thousands, he doesn't think of money." She spoke with that +gleefully sly smile with which women often talk of the secret +characteristics only known to them--of those they love. "Do you +see that big building? that's the new hospital. I believe it +will cost over a hundred thousand; that's his hobby just now. +And do you know how it all came about? The peasants asked him +for some meadowland, I think it was, at a cheaper rate, and he +refused, and I accused him of being miserly. Of course it was +not really because of that, but everything together, he began +this hospital to prove, do you see, that he was not miserly about +money. _C'est une petitesse_, if you like, but I love him all the +more for it. And now you'll see the house in a moment. It was +his grandfather's house, and he has had nothing changed outside." + +"How beautiful!" said Dolly, looking with involuntary admiration +at the handsome house with columns, standing out among the +different-colored greens of the old trees in the garden. + +"Isn't it fine? And from the house, from the top, the view is +wonderful." + +They drove into a courtyard strewn with gravel and bright with +flowers, in which two laborers were at work putting an edging of +stones round the light mould of a flower bed, and drew up in a +covered entry. + +"Ah, they're here already!" said Anna, looking at the saddle +horses, which were just being led away from the steps. "It is a +nice horse, isn't it? It's my cob; my favorite. Lead him here +and bring me some sugar. Where is the count?" she inquired of +two smart footmen who darted out. "Ah, there he is!" she said, +seeing Vronsky coming to meet her with Veslovsky. + +"Where are you going to put the princess?" said Vronsky in +French, addressing Anna, and without waiting for a reply, he once +more greeted Darya Alexandrovna, and this time he kissed her +hand. "I think the big balcony room." + +"Oh, no, that's too far off! Better in the corner room, we shall +see each other more. Come, let's go up," said Anna, as she gave +her favorite horse the sugar the footman had brought her. + +"_Et vous oubliez votre devoir_," she said to Veslovsky, who came +out too on the steps. + +"_Pardon, j'en ai tout plein les poches_," he answered, smiling, +putting his fingers in his waistcoat pocket. + +"_Mais vous venez trop tard_," she said, rubbing her handkerchief +on her hand, which the horse had made wet in taking the sugar. + +Anna turned to Dolly. "You can stay some time? For one day +only? That's impossible!" + +"I promised to be back, and the children..." said Dolly, feeling +embarrassed both because she had to get her bag out of the +carriage, and because she knew her face must be covered with +dust. + +"No, Dolly, darling!... Well, we'll see. Come along, come +along!" and Anna led Dolly to her room. + +That room was not the smart guest chamber Vronsky had suggested, +but the one of which Anna had said that Dolly would excuse it. +And this room, for which excuse was needed, was more full of +luxury than any in which Dolly had ever stayed, a luxury that +reminded her of the best hotels abroad. + +"Well, darling, how happy I am!" Anna said, sitting down in her +riding habit for a moment beside Dolly. "Tell me about all of +you. Stiva I had only a glimpse of, and he cannot tell one +about the children. How is my favorite, Tanya? Quite a big +girl, I expect?" + +"Yes, she's very tall," Darya Alexandrovna answered shortly, +surprised herself that she should respond so coolly about her +children. "We are having a delightful stay at the Levins'," she +added. + +"Oh, if I had known," said Anna, "that you do not despise me!... +You might have all come to us. Stiva's an old friend and a great +friend of Alexey's, you know," she added, and suddenly she +blushed. + +"Yes, but we are all..." Dolly answered in confusion. + +"But in my delight I'm talking nonsense. The one thing, darling, +is that I am so glad to have you!" said Anna, kissing her again. +"You haven't told me yet how and what you think about me, and I +keep wanting to know. But I'm glad you will see me as I am. +The chief thing I shouldn't like would be for people to imagine I +want to prove anything. I don't want to prove anything; I +merely want to live, to do no one harm but myself. I have the +right to do that, haven't I? But it is a big subject, and we'll +talk over everything properly later. Now I'll go and dress and +send a maid to you." + + + +Chapter 19 + + +Left alone, Darya Alexandrovna, with a good housewife's eye, +scanned her room. All she had seen in entering the house and +walking through it, and all she saw now in her room, gave her an +impression of wealth and sumptuousness and of that modern +European luxury of which she had only read in English novels, but +had never seen in Russia and in the country. Everything was new +from the new French hangings on the walls to the carpet which +covered the whole floor. The bed had a spring mattress, and a +special sort of bolster and silk pillowcases on the little +pillows. The marble washstand, the dressing table, the little +sofa, the tables, the bronze clock on the chimney piece, the +window curtains, and the _portieres_ were all new and expensive. + +The smart maid, who came in to offer her services, with her hair +done up high, and a gown more fashionable than Dolly's, was as +new and expensive as the whole room. Darya Alexandrovna liked +her neatness, her deferential and obliging manners, but she felt +ill at ease with her. She felt ashamed of her seeing the patched +dressing jacket that had unluckily been packed by mistake for +her. She was ashamed of the very patches and darned places of +which she had been so proud at home. At home it had been so +clear that for six dressing jackets there would be needed +twenty-four yards of nainsook at sixteen pence the yard, which +was a matter of thirty shillings besides the cutting-out and +making, and these thirty shillings had been saved. But before +the maid she felt, if not exactly ashamed, at least +uncomfortable. + +Darya Alexandrovna had a great sense of relief when Annushka, +whom she had known for years, walked in. The smart maid was sent +for to go to her mistress, and Annushka remained with Darya +Alexandrovna. + +Annushka was obviously much pleased at that lady's arrival, and +began to chatter away without a pause. Dolly observed that she +was longing to express her opinion in regard to her mistress's +position, especially as to the love and devotion of the count to +Anna Arkadyevna, but Dolly carefully interrupted her whenever she +began to speak about this. + +"I grew up with Anna Arkadyevna; my lady's dearer to me than +anything. Well, it's not for us to judge. And, to be sure, +there seems so much love..." + +"Kindly pour out the water for me to wash now, please," Darya +Alexandrovna cut her short. + +"Certainly. We've two women kept specially for washing small +things, but most of the linen's done by machinery. The count +goes into everything himself. Ah, what a husband!..." + +Dolly was glad when Anna came in, and by her entrance put a stop +to Annushka's gossip. + +Anna had put on a very simple batiste gown. Dolly scrutinized +that simple gown attentively. She knew what it meant, and the +price at which such simplicity was obtained. + +"An old friend," said Anna of Annushka. + +Anna was not embarrassed now. She was perfectly composed and at +ease. Dolly saw that she had now completely recovered from the +impression her arrival had made on her, and had assumed that +superficial, careless tone which, as it were, closed the door on +that compartment in which her deeper feelings and ideas were +kept. + +"Well, Anna, and how is your little girl?" asked Dolly. + +"Annie?" (This was what she called her little daughter Anna.) +"Very well. She has got on wonderfully. Would you like to see +her? Come, I'll show her to you. We had a terrible bother," she +began telling her, "over nurses. We had an Italian wet-nurse. A +good creature, but so stupid! We wanted to get rid of her, but +the baby is so used to her that we've gone on keeping her still." + +"But how have you managed?..." Dolly was beginning a question +as to what name the little girl would have; but noticing a sudden +frown on Anna's face, she changed the drift of her question. + +"How did you manage? have you weaned her yet?" + +But Anna had understood. + +"You didn't mean to ask that? You meant to ask about her +surname. Yes? That worries Alexey. She has no name--that is, +she's a Karenina," said Anna, dropping her eyelids till nothing +could be seen but the eyelashes meeting. "But we'll talk about +all that later," her face suddenly brightening. "Come, I'll show +you her. _Elle est tres gentille_. She crawls now." + +In the nursery the luxury which had impressed Dolly in the whole +house struck her still more. There were little go-carts ordered +from England, and appliances for learning to walk, and a sofa +after the fashion of a billiard table, purposely constructed for +crawling, and swings and baths, all of special pattern, and +modern. They were all English, solid, and of good make, and +obviously very expensive. The room was large, and very light and +lofty. + +When they went in, the baby, with nothing on but her little smock, +was sitting in a little elbow chair at the table, having her +dinner of broth, which she was spilling all over her little chest. +The baby was being fed, and the Russian nursery maid was +evidently sharing her meal. Neither the wet-nurse nor the +head nurse were there; they were in the next room, from which +came the sound of their conversation in the queer French which +was their only means of communication. + +Hearing Anna's voice, a smart, tall, English nurse with a +disagreeable face and a dissolute expression walked in at the +door, hurriedly shaking her fair curls, and immediately began to +defend herself though Anna had not found fault with her. At +every word Anna said, the English nurse said hurriedly several +times, "Yes, my lady." + +The rosy baby with her black eyebrows and hair, her sturdy red +little body with tight goose-flesh skin, delighted Darya +Alexandrovna in spite of the cross expression with which she +stared at the stranger. She positively envied the baby's healthy +appearance. She was delighted, too, at the baby's crawling. Not +one of her own children had crawled like that. When the baby was +put on the carpet and its little dress tucked up behind, it was +wonderfully charming. Looking round like some little wild animal +at the grown-up big people with her bright black eyes, she +smiled, unmistakably pleased at their admiring her, and holding +her legs sideways, she pressed vigorously on her arms, and +rapidly drew her whole back up after, and then made another step +forward with her little arms. + +But the whole atmosphere of the nursery, and especially the +English nurse, Darya Alexandrovna did not like at all. It was +only on the supposition that no good nurse would have entered so +irregular a household as Anna's that Darya Alexandrovna could +explain to herself how Anna with her insight into people could +take such an unprepossessing, disreputable-looking woman as nurse +to her child. + +Besides, from a few words that were dropped, Darya Alexandrovna +saw at once that Anna, the two nurses, and the child had no +common existence, and that the mother's visit was something +exceptional. Anna wanted to get the baby her plaything, and +could not find it. + +Most amazing of all was the fact that on being asked how many +teeth the baby had, Anna answered wrong, and knew nothing about +the two last teeth. + +"I sometimes feel sorry I'm so superfluous here," said Anna, +going out of the nursery and holding up her skirt so as to escape +the plaything standing in the doorway. "It was very different +with my first child." + +"I expected it to be the other way," said Darya Alexandrovna +shyly. + +"Oh, no! By the way, do you know I saw Seryozha?" said Anna, +screwing up her eyes, as though looking at something far away. +"But we'll talk about that later. You wouldn't believe it, I'm +like a hungry beggar woman when a full dinner is set before her, +and she does not know what to begin on first. The dinner is you, +and the talks I have before me with you, which I could never have +with anyone else; and I don't know which subject to begin upon +first. _Mais je ne vous ferai grace de rien_. I must have +everything out with you." + +"Oh, I ought to give you a sketch of the company you will meet +with us," she went on. "I'll begin with the ladies. Princess +Varvara--you know her, and I know your opinion and Stiva's about +her. Stiva says the whole aim of her existence is to prove her +superiority over Auntie Katerina Pavlovna: that's all true; but +she's a good-natured woman, and I am so grateful to her. In +Petersburg there was a moment when a chaperon was absolutely +essential for me. Then she turned up. But really she is good- +natured. She did a great deal to alleviate my position. I see +you don't understand all the difficulty of my position...there in +Petersburg," she added. "Here I'm perfectly at ease and happy. +Well, of that later on, though. Then Sviazhsky--he's the marshal +of the district, and he's a very good sort of a man, but he wants +to get something out of Alexey. You understand, with his +property, now that we are settled in the country, Alexey can +exercise great influence. Then there's Tushkevitch--you have +seen him, you know--Betsy's admirer. Now he's been thrown over +and he's come to see us. As Alexey says, he's one of those +people who are very pleasant if one accepts them for what they +try to appear to be, _et puis il est comme il faut_, as Princess +Varvara says. Then Veslovsky...you know him. A very nice boy," +she said, and a sly smile curved her lips. "What's this wild +story about him and the Levins? Veslovsky told Alexey about it, +and we don't believe it. _Il est tres gentil et naif_," she said +again with the same smile. "Men need occupation, and Alexey +needs a circle, so I value all these people. We have to have the +house lively and gay, so that Alexey may not long for any +novelty. Then you'll see the steward--a German, a very good +fellow, and he understands his work. Alexey has a very high +opinion of him. Then the doctor, a young man, not quite a +Nihilist perhaps, but you know, eats with his knife...but a very +good doctor. Then the architect.... _Une petite cour!_" + + + +Chapter 20 + + +"Here's Dolly for you, princess, you were so anxious to see her," +said Anna, coming out with Darya Alexandrovna onto the stone +terrace where Princess Varvara was sitting in the shade at an +embroidery frame, working at a cover for Count Alexey +Kirillovitch's easy chair. "She says she doesn't want anything +before dinner, but please order some lunch for her, and I'll go +and look for Alexey and bring them all in." + +Princess Varvara gave Dolly a cordial and rather patronizing +reception, and began at once explaining to her that she was +living with Anna because she had always cared more for her than +her sister Katerina Pavlovna, the aunt that had brought Anna up, +and that now, when every one had abandoned Anna, she thought it +her duty to help her in this most difficult period of transition. + +"Her husband will give her a divorce, and then I shall go back to +my solitude; but now I can be of use, and I am doing my duty, +however difficult it may be for me--not like some other people. +And how sweet it is of you, how right of you to have come! They +live like the best of married couples; it's for God to judge +them, not for us. And didn't Biryuzovsky and Madame +Avenieva...and Sam Nikandrov, and Vassiliev and Madame Mamonova, +and Liza Neptunova... Did no one say anything about them? And +it has ended by their being received by everyone. And then, +_c'est un interieur si joli, si comme il faut. Tout-a-fait a +l'anglaise. On se reunit le matin au breakfast, et puis on se +separe._ Everyone does as he pleases till dinnertime. Dinner at +seven o'clock. Stiva did very rightly to send you. He needs +their support. You know that through his mother and brother he +can do anything. And then they do so much good. He didn't tell +you about his hospital? _Ce sera admirable_--everything from +Paris." + +Their conversation was interrupted by Anna, who had found the men +of the party in the billiard room, and returned with them to the +terrace. There was still a long time before the dinner-hour, it +was exquisite weather, and so several different methods of +spending the next two hours were proposed. There were very many +methods of passing the time at Vozdvizhenskoe, and these were all +unlike those in use at Pokrovskoe. + +"_Une partie de lawn-tennis,_" Veslovsky proposed, with his +handsome smile. "We'll be partners again, Anna Arkadyevna." + +"No, it's too hot; better stroll about the garden and have a row +in the boat, show Darya Alexandrovna the river banks." Vronsky +proposed. + +"I agree to anything," said Sviazhsky. + +"I imagine that what Dolly would like best would be a stroll-- +wouldn't you? And then the boat, perhaps," said Anna. + +So it was decided. Veslovsky and Tushkevitch went off to the +bathing place, promising to get the boat ready and to wait there +for them. + +They walked along the path in two couples, Anna with Sviazhsky, +and Dolly with Vronsky. Dolly was a little embarrassed and +anxious in the new surroundings in which she found herself. +Abstractly, theoretically, she did not merely justify, she +positively approved of Anna's conduct. As is indeed not +unfrequent with women of unimpeachable virtue, weary of the +monotony of respectable existence, at a distance she not only +excused illicit love, she positively envied it. Besides, she +loved Anna with all her heart. But seeing Anna in actual life +among these strangers, with this fashionable tone that was so new +to Darya Alexandrovna, she felt ill at ease. What she disliked +particularly was seeing Princess Varvara ready to overlook +everything for the sake of the comforts she enjoyed. + +As a general principle, abstractly, Dolly approved of Anna's +action; but to see the man for whose sake her action had been +taken was disagreeable to her. Moreover, she had never liked +Vronsky. She thought him very proud, and saw nothing in him of +which he could be proud except his wealth. But against her own +will, here in his own house, he overawed her more than ever, and +she could not be at ease with him. She felt with him the same +feeling she had had with the maid about her dressing jacket. +Just as with the maid she had felt not exactly ashamed, but +embarrassed at her darns, so she felt with him not exactly +ashamed, but embarrassed at herself. + +Dolly was ill at ease, and tried to find a subject of +conversation. Even though she supposed that, through his pride, +praise of his house and garden would be sure to be disagreeable +to him, she did all the same tell him how much she liked his +house. + +"Yes, it's a very fine building, and in the good old-fashioned +style," he said. + +"I like so much the court in front of the steps. Was that +always so?" + +"Oh, no!" he said, and his face beamed with pleasure. "If you +could only have seen that court last spring!" + +And he began, at first rather diffidently, but more and more +carried away by the subject as he went on, to draw her attention +to the various details of the decoration of his house and garden. +It was evident that, having devoted a great deal of trouble to +improve and beautify his home, Vronsky felt a need to show off +the improvements to a new person, and was genuinely delighted at +Darya Alexandrovna's praise. + +"If you would care to look at the hospital, and are not tired, +indeed, it's not far. Shall we go?" he said, glancing into her +face to convince himself that she was not bored. "Are you +coming, Anna?" he turned to her. + +"We will come, won't we?" she said, addressing Sviazhsky. "_Mais +il ne faut pas laisser le pauvre Veslovsky et Tushkevitch se +morfondre la dans le bateau._ We must send and tell them." + +"Yes, this is a monument he is setting up here," said Anna, +turning to Dolly with that sly smile of comprehension with which +she had previously talked about the hospital. + +"Oh, it's a work of real importance!" said Sviazhsky. But to +show he was not trying to ingratiate himself with Vronsky, he +promptly added some slightly critical remarks. + +"I wonder, though, count," he said, "that while you do so much +for the health of the peasants, you take so little interest in +the schools." + +"_C'est devenu tellement commun les ecoles,_" said Vronsky. "You +understand it's not on that account, but it just happens so, my +interest has been diverted elsewhere. This way then to the +hospital," he said to Darya Alexandrovna, pointing to a turning +out of the avenue. + +The ladies put up their parasols and turned into the side path. +After going down several turnings, and going through a little +gate, Darya Alexandrovna saw standing on rising ground before her +a large pretentious-looking red building, almost finished. The +iron roof, which was not yet painted, shone with dazzling +brightness in the sunshine. Beside the finished building another +had been begun, surrounded by scaffolding. Workmen in aprons, +standing on scaffolds, were laying bricks, pouring mortar out of +vats, and smoothing it with trowels. + +"How quickly work gets done with you!" said Sviazhsky. "When I +was here last time the roof was not on." + +"By the autumn it will all be ready. Inside almost everything is +done," said Anna. + +"And what's this new building?" + +"That's the house for the doctor and the dispensary," answered +Vronsky, seeing the architect in a short jacket coming towards +him; and excusing himself to the ladies, he went to meet him. + +Going round a hole where the workmen were slaking lime, he stood +still with the architect and began talking rather warmly. + +"The front is still too low," he said to Anna, who had asked what +was the matter. + +"I said the foundation ought to be raised," said Anna. + +"Yes, of course it would have been much better, Anna Arkadyevna," +said the architect, "but now it's too late." + +"Yes, I take a great interest in it," Anna answered Sviazhsky, +who was expressing his surprise at her knowledge of architecture. +"This new building ought to have been in harmony with the +hospital. It was an afterthought, and was begun without a plan." + +Vronsky, having finished his talk with the architect, joined the +ladies, and led them inside the hospital. + +Although they were still at work on the cornices outside and were +painting on the ground floor, upstairs almost all the rooms were +finished. Going up the broad cast-iron staircase to the landing, +they walked into the first large room. The walls were stuccoed +to look like marble, the huge plate-glass windows were already +in, only the parquet floor was not yet finished, and the +carpenters, who were planing a block of it, left their work, +taking off the bands that fastened their hair, to greet the +gentry. + +"This is the reception room," said Vronsky. "Here there will be +a desk, tables, and benches, and nothing more." + +"This way; let us go in here. Don't go near the window," said +Anna, trying the paint to see if it were dry. "Alexey, the +paint's dry already," she added. + +From the reception room they went into the corridor. Here +Vronsky showed them the mechanism for ventilation on a novel +system. Then he showed them marble baths, and beds with +extraordinary springs. Then he showed them the wards one after +another, the storeroom, the linen room, then the heating stove +of a new pattern, then the trolleys, which would make no noise as +they carried everything needed along the corridors, and many +other things. Sviazhsky, as a connoisseur in the latest +mechanical improvements, appreciated everything fully. Dolly +simply wondered at all she had not seen before, and, anxious to +understand it all, made minute inquiries about everything, which +gave Vronsky great satisfaction. + +"Yes, I imagine that this will be the solitary example of a +properly fitted hospital in Russia," said Sviazhsky. + +"And won't you have a lying-in ward?" asked Dolly. "That's so +much needed in the country. I have often..." + +In spite of his usual courtesy, Vronsky interrupted her. + +"This is not a lying-in home, but a hospital for the sick, and is +intended for all diseases, except infectious complaints," he +said. "Ah! look at this," and he rolled up to Darya Alexandrovna +an invalid chair that had just been ordered for the +convalescents. "Look." He sat down in the chair and began +moving it. "The patient can't walk--still too weak, perhaps, or +something wrong with his legs, but he must have air, and he +moves, rolls himself along...." + +Darya Alexandrovna was interested by everything. She liked +everything very much, but most of all she liked Vronsky himself +with his natural, simple-hearted eagerness. "Yes, he's a very +nice, good man," she thought several times, not hearing what he +said, but looking at him and penetrating into his expression, +while she mentally put herself in Anna's place. She liked him so +much just now with his eager interest that she saw how Anna could +be in love with him. + + + +Chapter 21 + + +"No, I think the princess is tired, and horses don't interest +her," Vronsky said to Anna, who wanted to go on to the stables, +where Sviazhsky wished to see the new stallion. "You go on, +while I escort the princess home, and we'll have a little talk," +he said, "if you would like that?" he added, turning to her. + +"I know nothing about horses, and I shall be delighted," +answered Darya Alexandrovna, rather astonished. + +She saw by Vronsky's face that he wanted something from her. She +was not mistaken. As soon as they had passed through the little +gate back into the garden, he looked in the direction Anna had +taken, and having made sure that she could neither hear nor see +them, he began: + +"You guess that I have something I want to say to you," he said, +looking at her with laughing eyes. "I am not wrong in believing +you to be a friend of Anna's." He took off his hat, and taking +out his handkerchief, wiped his head, which was growing bald. + +Darya Alexandrovna made no answer, and merely stared at him with +dismay. When she was left alone with him, she suddenly felt +afraid; his laughing eyes and stern expression scared her. + +The most diverse suppositions as to what he was about to speak of +to her flashed into her brain. "He is going to beg me to come to +stay with them with the children, and I shall have to refuse; or +to create a set that will receive Anna in Moscow.... Or isn't it +Vassenka Veslovsky and his relations with Anna? Or perhaps about +Kitty, that he feels he was to blame?" All her conjectures were +unpleasant, but she did not guess what he really wanted to talk +about to her. + +"You have so much influence with Anna, she is so fond of you," he +said; "do help me." + +Darya Alexandrovna looked with timid inquiry into his energetic +face, which under the lime-trees was continually being lighted up +in patches by the sunshine, and then passing into complete shadow +again. She waited for him to say more, but he walked in silence +beside her, scratching with his cane in the gravel. + +"You have come to see us, you, the only woman of Anna's former +friends--I don't count Princess Varvara--but I know that you have +done this not because you regard our position as normal, but +because, understanding all the difficulty of the position, you +still love her and want to be a help to her. Have I understood +you rightly?" he asked, looking round at her. + +"Oh, yes," answered Darya Alexandrovna, putting down her +sunshade, "but..." + +"No," he broke in, and unconsciously, oblivious of the awkward +position into which he was putting his companion, he stopped +abruptly, so that she had to stop short too. "No one feels more +deeply and intensely than I do all the difficulty of Anna's +position; and that you may well understand, if you do me the +honor of supposing I have any heart. I am to blame for that +position, and that is why I feel it." + +"I understand," said Darya Alexandrovna, involuntarily admiring +the sincerity and firmness with which he said this. "But just +because you feel yourself responsible, you exaggerate it, I am +afraid," she said. "Her position in the world is difficult, I +can well understand." + +"In the world it is hell!" he brought out quickly, frowning +darkly. "You can't imagine moral sufferings greater than what +she went through in Petersburg in that fortnight...and I beg you +to believe it." + +"Yes, but here, so long as neither Anna...nor you miss +society..." + +"Society!" he said contemptuously, "how could I miss society?" + +"So far--and it may be so always--you are happy and at peace. I +see in Anna that she is happy, perfectly happy, she has had time +to tell me so much already," said Darya Alexandrovna, smiling; +and involuntarily, as she said this, at the same moment a doubt +entered her mind whether Anna really were happy. + +But Vronsky, it appeared, had no doubts on that score. + +"Yes, yes," he said, "I know that she has revived after all her +sufferings; she is happy. She is happy in the present. But +I?... I am afraid of what is before us...I beg your pardon, you +would like to walk on?" + +"No, I don't mind." + +"Well, then, let us sit here." + +Darya Alexandrovna sat down on a garden seat in a corner of the +avenue. He stood up facing her. + +"I see that she is happy," he repeated, and the doubt whether she +were happy sank more deeply into Darya Alexandrovna's mind. "But +can it last? Whether we have acted rightly or wrongly is another +question, but the die is cast," he said, passing from Russian to +French, "and we are bound together for life. We are united by +all the ties of love that we hold most sacred. We have a child, +we may have other children. But the law and all the conditions +of our position are such that thousands of complications arise +which she does not see and does not want to see. And that one +can well understand. But I can't help seeing them. My daughter +is by law not my daughter, but Karenin's. I cannot bear this +falsity!" he said, with a vigorous gesture of refusal, and he +looked with gloomy inquiry towards Darya Alexandrovna. + +She made no answer, but simply gazed at him. He went on: + +"One day a son may be born, my son, and he will be legally a +Karenin; he will not be the heir of my name nor of my property, +and however happy we may be in our home life and however many +children we may have, there will be no real tie between us. They +will be Karenins. You can understand the bitterness and horror +of this position! I have tried to speak of this to Anna. It +irritates her. She does not understand, and to her I cannot +speak plainly of all this. Now look at another side. I am +happy, happy in her love, but I must have occupation. I have +found occupation, and am proud of what I am doing and consider it +nobler than the pursuits of my former companions at court and in +the army. And most certainly I would not change the work I am +doing for theirs. I am working here, settled in my own place, +and I am happy and contented, and we need nothing more to make +us happy. I love my work here. _Ce n'est pas un pis-aller,_ +on the contrary..." + +Darya Alexandrovna noticed that at this point in his explanation +he grew confused, and she did not quite understand this +digression, but she felt that having once begun to speak of +matters near his heart, of which he could not speak to Anna, he +was now making a clean breast of everything, and that the +question of his pursuits in the country fell into the same +category of matters near his heart, as the question of his +relations with Anna. + +"Well, I will go on," he said, collecting himself. "The great +thing is that as I work I want to have a conviction that what I +am doing will not die with me, that I shall have heirs to come +after me,--and this I have not. Conceive the position of a man +who knows that his children, the children of the woman he loves, +will not be his, but will belong to someone who hates them and +cares nothing about them! It is awful!" + +He paused, evidently much moved. + +"Yes, indeed, I see that. But what can Anna do?" queried Darya +Alexandrovna. + +"Yes, that brings me to the object of my conversation," he said, +calming himself with an effort. "Anna can, it depends on +her.... Even to petition the Tsar for legitimization, a divorce +is essential. And that depends on Anna. Her husband agreed to a +divorce--at that time your husband had arranged it completely. +And now, I know, he would not refuse it. It is only a matter of +writing to him. He said plainly at that time that if she +expressed the desire, he would not refuse. Of course," he said +gloomily, "it is one of those Pharisaical cruelties of which only +such heartless men are capable. He knows what agony any +recollection of him must give her, and knowing her, he must have +a letter from her. I can understand that it is agony to her. +But the matter is of such importance, that one must _passer +pardessus toutes ces finesses de sentiment. Il y va du bonheur +et de l'existence d'Anne et de ses enfants._ I won't speak of +myself, though it's hard for me, very hard," he said, with an +expression as though he were threatening someone for its being +hard for him. "And so it is, princess, that I am shamelessly +clutching at you as an anchor of salvation. Help me to persuade +her to write to him and ask for a divorce." + +"Yes, of course," Darya Alexandrovna said dreamily, as she +vividly recalled her last interview with Alexey Alexandrovitch. +"Yes, of course," she repeated with decision, thinking of Anna. + +"Use your influence with her, make her write. I don't like--I'm +almost unable to speak about this to her." + +"Very well, I will talk to her. But how is it she does not +think of it herself?" said Darya Alexandrovna, and for some +reason she suddenly at that point recalled Anna's strange new +habit of half-closing her eyes. And she remembered that Anna +drooped her eyelids just when the deeper questions of life were +touched upon. "Just as though she half-shut her eyes to her own +life, so as not to see everything," thought Dolly. "Yes, indeed, +for my own sake and for hers I will talk to her," Dolly said in +reply to his look of gratitude. + +They got up and walked to the house. + + + +Chapter 22 + + +When Anna found Dolly at home before her, she looked intently in +her eyes, as though questioning her about the talk she had had +with Vronsky, but she made no inquiry in words. + +"I believe it's dinner time," she said. "We've not seen each +other at all yet. I am reckoning on the evening. Now I want to +go and dress. I expect you do too; we all got splashed at the +buildings." + +Dolly went to her room and she felt amused. To change her dress +was impossible, for she had already put on her best dress. But +in order to signify in some way her preparation for dinner, she +asked the maid to brush her dress, changed her cuffs and tie, and +put some lace on her head. + +"This is all I can do," she said with a smile to Anna, who came +in to her in a third dress, again of extreme simplicity. + +"Yes, we are too formal here," she said, as it were apologizing +for her magnificence. "Alexey is delighted at your visit, as he +rarely is at anything. He has completely lost his heart to you," +she added. "You're not tired?" + +There was no time for talking about anything before dinner. +Going into the drawing room they found Princess Varvara already +there, and the gentlemen of the party in black frock-coats. The +architect wore a swallow-tail coat. Vronsky presented the +doctor and the steward to his guest. The architect he had +already introduced to her at the hospital. + +A stout butler, resplendent with a smoothly shaven round chin and +a starched white cravat, announced that dinner was ready, and the +ladies got up. Vronsky asked Sviazhsky to take in Anna +Arkadyevna, and himself offered his arm to Dolly. Veslovsky was +before Tushkevitch in offering his arm to Princess Varvara, so +that Tushkevitch with the steward and the doctor walked in alone. + +The dinner, the dining room, the service, the waiting at table, +the wine, and the food, were not simply in keeping with the +general tone of modern luxury throughout all the house, but +seemed even more sumptuous and modern. Darya Alexandrovna +watched this luxury which was novel to her, and as a good +housekeeper used to managing a household--although she never +dreamed of adapting anything she saw to her own household, as it +was all in a style of luxury far above her own manner of +living--she could not help scrutinizing every detail, and +wondering how and by whom it was all done. Vassenka Veslovsky, +her husband, and even Sviazhsky, and many other people she knew, +would never have considered this question, and would have readily +believed what every well-bred host tries to make his guests feel, +that is, that all that is well-ordered in his house has cost him, +the host, no trouble whatever, but comes of itself. Darya +Alexandrovna was well aware that even porridge for the children's +breakfast does not come of itself, and that therefore, where so +complicated and magnificent a style of luxury was maintained, +someone must give earnest attention to its organization. And +from the glance with which Alexey Kirillovitch scanned the table, +from the way he nodded to the butler, and offered Darya +Alexandrovna her choice between cold soup and hot soup, she saw +that it was all organized and maintained by the care of the +master of the house himself. It was evident that it all rested +no more upon Anna than upon Veslovsky. She, Sviazhsky, the +princess, and Veslovsky, were equally guests, with light hearts +enjoying what had been arranged for them. + +Anna was the hostess only in conducting the conversation. The +conversation was a difficult one for the lady of the house at a +small table with persons present, like the steward and the +architect, belonging to a completely different world, struggling +not to be overawed by an elegance to which they were +unaccustomed, and unable to sustain a large share in the general +conversation. But this difficult conversation Anna directed with +her usual tact and naturalness, and indeed she did so with actual +enjoyment, as Darya Alexandrovna observed. The conversation +began about the row Tushkevitch and Veslovsky had taken alone +together in the boat, and Tushkevitch began describing the last +boat races in Petersburg at the Yacht Club. But Anna, seizing +the first pause, at once turned to the architect to draw him out +of his silence. + +"Nikolay Ivanitch was struck," she said, meaning Sviazhsky, "at +the progress the new building had made since he was here last; +but I am there every day, and every day I wonder at the rate at +which it grows." + +"It's first-rate working with his excellency," said the architect +with a smile (he was respectful and composed, though with a sense +of his own dignity). "It's a very different matter to have to do +with the district authorities. Where one would have to write out +sheaves of papers, here I call upon the count, and in three words +we settle the business." + +"The American way of doing business," said Sviazhsky, with a +smile. + +"Yes, there they build in a rational fashion..." + +The conversation passed to the misuse of political power in the +United States, but Anna quickly brought it round to another +topic, so as to draw the steward into talk. + +"Have you ever seen a reaping machine?" she said, addressing +Darya Alexandrovna. "We had just ridden over to look at one when +we met. It's the first time I ever saw one." + +"How do they work?" asked Dolly. + +"Exactly like little scissors. A plank and a lot of little +scissors. Like this." + +Anna took a knife and fork in her beautiful white hands covered +with rings, and began showing how the machine worked. It was +clear that she saw nothing would be understood from her +explanation; but aware that her talk was pleasant and her hands +beautiful she went on explaining. + +"More like little penknives," Veslovsky said playfully, never +taking his eyes off her. + +Anna gave a just perceptible smile, but made no answer. "Isn't +it true, Karl Fedoritch, that it's just like little scissors?" +she said to the steward. + +"_Oh, ja,_" answered the German. _"Es it ein ganz einfaches Ding,"_ +and he began to explain the construction of the machine. + +"It's a pity it doesn't bind too. I saw one at the Vienna +exhibition, which binds with a wire," said Sviazhsky. "They +would be more profitable in use." + +_"Es kommt drauf an.... Der Preis vom Draht muss ausgerechnet +werden."_ And the German, roused from his taciturnity, turned to +Vronsky. _"Das laesst sich ausrechnen, Erlaucht."_ The German was +just feeling in the pocket where were his pencil and the +notebook he always wrote in, but recollecting that he was at a +dinner, and observing Vronsky's chilly glance, he checked +himself. _"Zu compliziert, macht zu viel Klopot,"_ he concluded. + +_"Wuenscht man Dochots, so hat man auch Klopots,"_ said Vassenka +Veslovsky, mimicking the German. _"J'adore l'allemand,"_ he +addressed Anna again with the same smile. + +_"Cessez,"_ she said with playful severity. + +"We expected to find you in the fields, Vassily Semyonitch," she +said to the doctor, a sickly-looking man; "have you been there?" + +"I went there, but I had taken flight," the doctor answered +with gloomy jocoseness. + +"Then you've taken a good constitutional?" + +"Splendid!" + +"Well, and how was the old woman? I hope it's not typhus?" + +"Typhus it is not, but it's taking a bad turn." + +"What a pity!" said Anna, and having thus paid the dues of +civility to her domestic circle, she turned to her own friends. + +"It would be a hard task, though, to construct a machine from +your description, Anna Arkadyevna," Sviazhsky said jestingly. + +"Oh, no, why so?" said Anna with a smile that betrayed that she +knew there was something charming in her disquisitions upon the +machine that had been noticed by Sviazhsky. This new trait of +girlish coquettishness made an unpleasant impression on Dolly. + +"But Anna Arkadyevna's knowledge of architecture is marvelous," +said Tushkevitch. + +"To be sure, I heard Anna Arkadyevna talking yesterday about +plinths and damp-courses," said Veslovsky. "Have I got it +right?" + +"There's nothing marvelous about it, when one sees and hears so +much of it," said Anna. "But, I dare say, you don't even know +what houses are made of?" + +Darya Alexandrovna saw that Anna disliked the tone of raillery +that existed between her and Veslovsky, but fell in with it +against her will. + +Vronsky acted in this matter quite differently from Levin. He +obviously attached no significance to Veslovsky's chattering; on +the contrary, he encouraged his jests. + +"Come now, tell us, Veslovsky, how are the stones held together?" + +"By cement, of course." + +"Bravo! And what is cement?" + +"Oh, some sort of paste...no, putty," said Veslovsky, raising +a general laugh. + +The company at dinner, with the exception of the doctor, the +architect, and the steward, who remained plunged in gloomy +silence, kept up a conversation that never paused, glancing off +one subject, fastening on another, and at times stinging one or +the other to the quick. Once Darya Alexandrovna felt wounded to +the quick, and got so hot that she positively flushed and +wondered afterwards whether she had said anything extreme or +unpleasant. Sviazhsky began talking of Levin, describing his +strange view that machinery is simply pernicious in its effects +on Russian agriculture. + +"I have not the pleasure of knowing this M. Levin," Vronsky said, +smiling, "but most likely he has never seen the machines he +condemns; or if he has seen and tried any, it must have been +after a queer fashion, some Russian imitation, not a machine from +abroad. What sort of views can anyone have on such a subject?" + +"Turkish views, in general," Veslovsky said, turning to Anna with +a smile. + +"I can't defend his opinions," Darya Alexandrovna said, firing +up; "but I can say that he's a highly cultivated man, and if he +were here he would know very well how to answer you, though I am +not capable of doing so." + +"I like him extremely, and we are great friends," Sviazhsky said, +smiling good-naturedly. "_Mais pardon, il est un petit peu toque;_ +he maintains, for instance, that district councils and +arbitration boards are all of no use, and he is unwilling to take +part in anything." + +"It's our Russian apathy," said Vronsky, pouring water from an +iced decanter into a delicate glass on a high stem; "we've no +sense of the duties our privileges impose upon us, and so we +refuse to recognize these duties." + +"I know no man more strict in the performance of his duties," +said Darya Alexandrovna, irritated by Vronsky's tone of +superiority. + +"For my part," pursued Vronsky, who was evidently for some reason +or other keenly affected by this conversation, "such as I am, I +am, on the contrary, extremely grateful for the honor they have +done me, thanks to Nikolay Ivanitch" (he indicated Sviazhsky), +"in electing me a justice of the peace. I consider that for me +the duty of being present at the session, of judging some +peasants' quarrel about a horse, is as important as anything I +can do. And I shall regard it as an honor if they elect me for +the district council. It's only in that way I can pay for the +advantages I enjoy as a landowner. Unluckily they don't +understand the weight that the big landowners ought to have in +the state." + +It was strange to Darya Alexandrovna to hear how serenely +confident he was of being right at his own table. She thought +how Levin, who believed the opposite, was just as positive in his +opinions at his own table. But she loved Levin, and so she was +on his side. + +"So we can reckon upon you, count, for the coming elections?" +said Sviazhsky. "But you must come a little beforehand, so as to +be on the spot by the eighth. If you would do me the honor to +stop with me." + +"I rather agree with your beau-frere," said Anna, "though not +quite on the same ground as he," she added with a smile. "I'm +afraid that we have too many of these public duties in these +latter days. Just as in old days there were so many government +functionaries that one had to call in a functionary for every +single thing, so now everyone's doing some sort of public duty. +Alexey has been here now six months, and he's a member, I do +believe, of five or six different public bodies. _Du train que +cela va,_ the whole time will be wasted on it. And I'm afraid +that with such a multiplicity of these bodies, they'll end in +being a mere form. How many are you a member of, Nikolay +Ivanitch?" she turned to Sviazhsky--"over twenty, I fancy." + +Anna spoke lightly, but irritation could be discerned in her +tone. Darya Alexandrovna, watching Anna and Vronsky attentively, +detected it instantly. She noticed, too, that as she spoke +Vronsky's face had immediately taken a serious and obstinate +expression. Noticing this, and that Princess Varvara at once +made haste to change the conversation by talking of Petersburg +acquaintances, and remembering what Vronsky had without apparent +connection said in the garden of his work in the country, Dolly +surmised that this question of public activity was connected with +some deep private disagreement between Anna and Vronsky. + +The dinner, the wine, the decoration of the table were all very +good; but it was all like what Darya Alexandrovna had seen at +formal dinners and balls which of late years had become quite +unfamiliar to her; it all had the same impersonal and constrained +character, and so on an ordinary day and in a little circle of +friends it made a disagreeable impression on her. + +After dinner they sat on the terrace, then they proceeded to play +lawn tennis. The players, divided into two parties, stood on +opposite sides of a tightly drawn net with gilt poles on the +carefully leveled and rolled croquet-ground. Darya Alexandrovna +made an attempt to play, but it was a long time before she could +understand the game, and by the time she did understand it, she +was so tired that she sat down with Princess Varvara and simply +looked on at the players. Her partner, Tushkevitch, gave up +playing too, but the others kept the game up for a long time. +Sviazhsky and Vronsky both played very well and seriously. They +kept a sharp lookout on the balls served to them, and without +haste or getting in each other's way, they ran adroitly up to +them, waited for the rebound, and neatly and accurately returned +them over the net. Veslovsky played worse than the others. He +was too eager, but he kept the players lively with his high +spirits. His laughter and outcries never paused. Like the other +men of the party, with the ladies' permission, he took off his +coat, and his solid, comely figure in his white shirt-sleeves, +with his red perspiring face and his impulsive movements, made a +picture that imprinted itself vividly on the memory. + +When Darya Alexandrovna lay in bed that night, as soon as she +closed her eyes, she saw Vassenka Veslovsky flying about the +croquet ground. + +During the game Darya Alexandrovna was not enjoying herself. She +did not like the light tone of raillery that was kept up all the +time between Vassenka Veslovsky and Anna, and the unnaturalness +altogether of grown-up people, all alone without children, +playing at a child's game. But to avoid breaking up the party +and to get through the time somehow, after a rest she joined the +game again, and pretended to be enjoying it. All that day it +seemed to her as though she were acting in a theater with actors +cleverer than she, and that her bad acting was spoiling the whole +performance. She had come with the intention of staying two +days, if all went well. But in the evening, during the game, she +made up her mind that she would go home next day. The maternal +cares and worries, which she had so hated on the way, now, after +a day spent without them, struck her in quite another light, and +tempted her back to them. + +When, after evening tea and a row by night in the boat, Darya +Alexandrovna went alone to her room, took off her dress, and +began arranging her thin hair for the night, she had a great +sense of relief. + +It was positively disagreeable to her to think that Anna was +coming to see her immediately. She longed to be alone with her +own thoughts. + + + +Chapter 23 + + +Dolly was wanting to go to bed when Anna came in to see her, +attired for the night. In the course of the day Anna had several +times begun to speak of matters near her heart, and every time +after a few words she had stopped: "Afterwards, by ourselves, +we'll talk about everything. I've got so much I want to tell +you," she said. + +Now they were by themselves, and Anna did not know what to talk +about. She sat in the window looking at Dolly, and going over in +her own mind all the stores of intimate talk which had seemed so +inexhaustible beforehand, and she found nothing. At that moment +it seemed to her that everything had been said already. + +"Well, what of Kitty?" she said with a heavy sigh, looking +penitently at Dolly. "Tell me the truth, Dolly: isn't she angry +with me?" + +"Angry? Oh, no!" said Darya Alexandrovna, smiling. + +"But she hates me, despises me?" + +"Oh, no! But you know that sort of thing isn't forgiven." + +"Yes, yes," said Anna, turning away and looking out of the open +window. "But I was not to blame. And who is to blame? What's +the meaning of being to blame? Could it have been otherwise? +What do you think? Could it possibly have happened that you +didn't become the wife of Stiva?" + +"Really, I don't know. But this is what I want you to tell +me..." + +"Yes, yes, but we've not finished about Kitty. Is she happy? +He's a very nice man, they say." + +"He's much more than very nice. I don't know a better man." + +"Ah, how glad I am! I'm so glad! Much more than very nice," she +repeated. + +Dolly smiled. + +"But tell me about yourself. We've a great deal to talk about. +And I've had a talk with..." Dolly did not know what to call +him. She felt it awkward to call him either the count or Alexey +Kirillovitch. + +"With Alexey," said Anna, "I know what you talked about. But I +wanted to ask you directly what you think of me, of my life?" + +"How am I to say like that straight off? I really don't know." + +"No, tell me all the same.... You see my life. But you mustn't +forget that you're seeing us in the summer, when you have come to +us and we are not alone.... But we came here early in the +spring, lived quite alone, and shall be alone again, and I desire +nothing better. But imagine me living alone without him, alone, +and that will be...I see by everything that it will often be +repeated, that he will be half the time away from home," she +said, getting up and sitting down close by Dolly. + +"Of course," she interrupted Dolly, who would have answered, "of +course I won't try to keep him by force. I don't keep him +indeed. The races are just coming, his horses are running, he +will go. I'm very glad. But think of me, fancy my position.... +But what's the use of talking about it?" She smiled. "Well, +what did he talk about with you?" + +"He spoke of what I want to speak about of myself, and it's easy +for me to be his advocate; of whether there is not a possibility +...whether you could not..." (Darya Alexandrovna hesitated) +"correct, improve your position.... You know how I look at +it.... But all the same, if possible, you should get +married...." + +"Divorce, you mean?" said Anna. "Do you know, the only woman who +came to see me in Petersburg was Betsy Tverskaya? You know her, +of course? _Au fond, c'est la femme la plus depravee qui existe._ +She had an intrigue with Tushkevitch, deceiving her husband in +the basest way. And she told me that she did not care to know me +so long as my position was irregular. Don't imagine I would +compare...I know you, darling. But I could not help +remembering.... Well, so what did he say to you?" she repeated. + +"He said that he was unhappy on your account and his own. +Perhaps you will say that it's egoism, but what a legitimate and +noble egoism. He wants first of all to legitimize his daughter, +and to be your husband, to have a legal right to you." + +"What wife, what slave can be so utterly a slave as I, in my +position?" she put in gloomily. + +"The chief thing he desires...he desires that you should not +suffer." + +"That's impossible. Well?" + +"Well, and the most legitimate desire--he wishes that your +children should have a name." + +"What children?" Anna said, not looking at Dolly, and half +closing her eyes. + +"Annie and those to come..." + +"He need not trouble on that score; I shall have no more +children." + +"How can you tell that you won't?" + +"I shall not, because I don't wish it." And, in spite of all her +emotion, Anna smiled, as she caught the naive expression of +curiosity, wonder, and horror on Dolly's face. + +"The doctor told me after my illness..." + +"Impossible!" said Dolly, opening her eyes wide. + +For her this was one of those discoveries the consequences and +deductions from which are so immense that all that one feels for +the first instant is that it is impossible to take it all in, and +that one will have to reflect a great, great deal upon it. + +This discovery, suddenly throwing light on all those families of +one or two children, which had hitherto been so incomprehensible +to her, aroused so many ideas, reflections, and contradictory +emotions, that she had nothing to say, and simply gazed with +wide-open eyes of wonder at Anna. This was the very thing she +had been dreaming of, but now learning that it was possible, she +was horrified. She felt that it was too simple a solution of too +complicated a problem. + +_"N'est-ce pas immoral?"_ was all she said, after a brief pause. + +"Why so? Think, I have a choice between two alternatives: either +to be with child, that is an invalid, or to be the friend and +companion of my husband--practically my husband," Anna said in a +tone intentionally superficial and frivolous. + +"Yes, yes," said Darya Alexandrovna, hearing the very arguments +she had used to herself, and not finding the same force in them +as before. + +"For you, for other people," said Anna, as though divining her +thoughts, "there may be reason to hesitate; but for me.... You +must consider, I am not his wife; he loves me as long as he +loves me. And how am I to keep his love? Not like this!" + +She moved her white hands in a curve before her waist with +extraordinary rapidity, as happens during moments of excitement; +ideas and memories rushed into Darya Alexandrovna's head. "I," +she thought, "did not keep my attraction for Stiva; he left me +for others, and the first woman for whom he betrayed me did not +keep him by being always pretty and lively. He deserted her and +took another. And can Anna attract and keep Count Vronsky in +that way? If that is what he looks for, he will find dresses and +manners still more attractive and charming. And however white +and beautiful her bare arms are, however beautiful her full +figure and her eager face under her black curls, he will find +something better still, just as my disgusting, pitiful, and +charming husband does." + +Dolly made no answer, she merely sighed. Anna noticed this sigh, +indicating dissent, and she went on. In her armory she had other +arguments so strong that no answer could be made to them. + +"Do you say that it's not right? But you must consider," she +went on; "you forget my position. How can I desire children? +I'm not speaking of the suffering, I'm not afraid of that. Think +only, what are my children to be? Ill-fated children, who will +have to bear a stranger's name. For the very fact of their birth +they will be forced to be ashamed of their mother, their father, +their birth." + +"But that is just why a divorce is necessary." But Anna did not +hear her. She longed to give utterance to all the arguments with +which she had so many times convinced herself. + +"What is reason given me for, if I am not to use it to avoid +bringing unhappy beings into the world!" She looked at Dolly, +but without waiting for a reply she went on: + +"I should always feel I had wronged these unhappy children," she +said. "If they are not, at any rate they are not unhappy; while +if they are unhappy, I alone should be to blame for it." + +These were the very arguments Darya Alexandrovna had used in her +own reflections; but she heard them without understanding them. +"How can one wrong creatures that don't exist?" she thought. And +all at once the idea struck her: could it possibly, under any +circumstances, have been better for her favorite Grisha if he had +never existed? And this seemed to her so wild, so strange, that +she shook her head to drive away this tangle of whirling, mad +ideas. + +"No, I don't know; it's not right," was all she said, with an +expression of disgust on her face. + +"Yes, but you mustn't forget that you and I.... And besides +that," added Anna, in spite of the wealth of her arguments and +the poverty of Dolly's objections, seeming still to admit that it +was not right, "don't forget the chief point, that I am not now +in the same position as you. For you the question is: do you +desire not to have any more children; while for me it is: do I +desire to have them? And that's a great difference. You must +see that I can't desire it in my position." + +Darya Alexandrovna made no reply. She suddenly felt that she had +got far away from Anna; that there lay between them a barrier of +questions on which they could never agree, and about which it was +better not to speak. + + + +Chapter 24 + + +"Then there is all the more reason for you to legalize your +position, if possible," said Dolly. + +"Yes, if possible," said Anna, speaking all at once in an utterly +different tone, subdued and mournful. + +"Surely you don't mean a divorce is impossible? I was told your +husband had consented to it." + +"Dolly, I don't want to talk about that." + +"Oh, we won't then," Darya Alexandrovna hastened to say, noticing +the expression of suffering on Anna's face. "All I see is that +you take too gloomy a view of things." + +"I? Not at all! I'm always bright and happy. You see, _je fais +des passions._ Veslovsky..." + +"Yes, to tell the truth, I don't like Veslovsky's tone," said +Darya Alexandrovna, anxious to change the subject. + +"Oh, that's nonsense! It amuses Alexey, and that's all; but he's +a boy, and quite under my control. You know, I turn him as I +please. It's just as it might be with your Grisha.... Dolly!"-- +she suddenly changed the subject--"you say I take too gloomy a +view of things. You can't understand. It's too awful! I try not +to take any view of it at all." + +"But I think you ought to. You ought to do all you can." + +"But what can I do? Nothing. You tell me to marry Alexey, and +say I don't think about it. I don't think about it!" she +repeated, and a flush rose into her face. She got up, +straightening her chest, and sighed heavily. With her light step +she began pacing up and down the room, stopping now and then. "I +don't think of it? Not a day, not an hour passes that I don't +think of it, and blame myself for thinking of it...because +thinking of that may drive me mad. Drive me mad!" she repeated. +"When I think of it, I can't sleep without morphine. But never +mind. Let us talk quietly. They tell me, divorce. In the first +place, he won't give me a divorce. He's under the influence of +Countess Lidia Ivanovna now." + +Darya Alexandrovna, sitting erect on a chair, turned her head, +following Anna with a face of sympathetic suffering. + +"You ought to make the attempt," she said softly. + +"Suppose I make the attempt. What does it mean?" she said, +evidently giving utterance to a thought, a thousand times thought +over and learned by heart. "It means that I, hating him, but +still recognizing that I have wronged him--and I consider him +magnanimous--that I humiliate myself to write to him.... Well, +suppose I make the effort; I do it. Either I receive a +humiliating refusal or consent.... Well, I have received his +consent, say..." Anna was at that moment at the furthest end +of the room, and she stopped there, doing something to the +curtain at the window. "I receive his consent, but my...my +son? They won't give him up to me. He will grow up despising +me, with his father, whom I've abandoned. Do you see, I love... +equally, I think, but both more than myself--two creatures, +Seryozha and Alexey." + +She came out into the middle of the room and stood facing Dolly, +with her arms pressed tightly across her chest. In her white +dressing gown her figure seemed more than usually grand and +broad. She bent her head, and with shining, wet eyes looked from +under her brows at Dolly, a thin little pitiful figure in her +patched dressing jacket and nightcap, shaking all over with +emotion. + +"It is only those two creatures that I love, and one excludes the +other. I can't have them together, and that's the only thing I +want. And since I can't have that, I don't care about the rest. +I don't care about anything, anything. And it will end one way +or another, and so I can't, I don't like to talk of it. So don't +blame me, don't judge me for anything. You can't with your pure +heart understand all that I'm suffering." She went up, sat down +beside Dolly, and with a guilty look, peeped into her face and +took her hand. + +"What are you thinking? What are you thinking about me? Don't +despise me. I don't deserve contempt. I'm simply unhappy. If +anyone is unhappy, I am," she articulated, and turning away, she +burst into tears. + +Left alone, Darya Alexandrovna said her prayers and went to bed. +She had felt for Anna with all her heart while she was speaking +to her, but now she could not force herself to think of her. The +memories of home and of her children rose up in her imagination +with a peculiar charm quite new to her, with a sort of new +brilliance. That world of her own seemed to her now so sweet and +precious that she would not on any account spend an extra day +outside it, and she made up her mind that she would certainly go +back next day. + +Anna meantime went back to her boudoir, took a wine glass and +dropped into it several drops of a medicine, of which the +principal ingredient was morphine. After drinking it off and +sitting still a little while, she went into her bedroom in a +soothed and more cheerful frame of mind. + +When she went into the bedroom, Vronsky looked intently at her. +He was looking for traces of the conversation which he knew that, +staying so long in Dolly's room, she must have had with her. But +in her expression of restrained excitement, and of a sort of +reserve, he could find nothing but the beauty that always +bewitched him afresh though he was used to it, the consciousness +of it, and the desire that it should affect him. He did not want +to ask her what they had been talking of, but he hoped that she +would tell him something of her own accord. But she only said: + +"I am so glad you like Dolly. You do, don't you?" + +"Oh, I've known her a long while, you know. She's very +good-hearted, I suppose, _mais excessivement terre-a-terre._ +Still, I'm very glad to see her." + +He took Anna's hand and looked inquiringly into her eyes. + +Misinterpreting the look, she smiled to him. Next morning, in +spite of the protests of her hosts, Darya Alexandrovna prepared +for her homeward journey. Levin's coachman, in his by no means +new coat and shabby hat, with his ill-matched horses and his +coach with the patched mud-guards, drove with gloomy +determination into the covered gravel approach. + +Darya Alexandrovna disliked taking leave of Princess Varvara and +the gentlemen of the party. After a day spent together, both she +and her hosts were distinctly aware that they did not get on +together, and that it was better for them not to meet. Only Anna +was sad. She knew that now, from Dolly's departure, no one again +would stir up within her soul the feelings that had been roused +by their conversation. It hurt her to stir up these feelings, +but yet she knew that that was the best part of her soul, and +that that part of her soul would quickly be smothered in the life +she was leading. + +As she drove out into the open country, Darya Alexandrovna had a +delightful sense of relief, and she felt tempted to ask the two +men how they had liked being at Vronsky's, when suddenly the +coachman, Philip, expressed himself unasked: + +"Rolling in wealth they may be, but three pots of oats was all +they gave us. Everything cleared up till there wasn't a grain +left by cockcrow. What are three pots? A mere mouthful! And +oats now down to forty-five kopecks. At our place, no fear, all +comers may have as much as they can eat." + +"The master's a screw," put in the counting house clerk. + +"Well, did you like their horses?" asked Dolly. + +"The horses!--there's no two opinions about them. And the food +was good. But it seemed to me sort of dreary there, Darya +Alexandrovna. I don't know what you thought," he said, turning +his handsome, good-natured face to her. + +"I thought so too. Well, shall we get home by evening?" + +"Eh, we must!" + +On reaching home and finding everyone entirely satisfactory and +particularly charming, Darya Alexandrovna began with great +liveliness telling them how she had arrived, how warmly they had +received her, of the luxury and good taste in which the Vronskys +lived, and of their recreations, and she would not allow a word +to be said against them. + +"One has to know Anna and Vronsky--I have got to know him better +now--to see how nice they are, and how touching," she said, +speaking now with perfect sincerity, and forgetting the vague +feeling of dissatisfaction and awkwardness she had experienced +there. + + + +Chapter 25 + + +Vronsky and Anna spent the whole summer and part of the winter +in the country, living in just the same condition, and still +taking no steps to obtain a divorce. It was an understood thing +between them that they should not go away anywhere; but both +felt, the longer they lived alone, especially in the autumn, +without guests in the house, that they could not stand this +existence, and that they would have to alter it. + +Their life was apparently such that nothing better could be +desired. They had the fullest abundance of everything; they had +a child, and both had occupation. Anna devoted just as much care +to her appearance when they had no visitors, and she did a great +deal of reading, both of novels and of what serious literature +was in fashion. She ordered all the books that were praised in +the foreign papers and reviews she received, and read them with +that concentrated attention which is only given to what is read +in seclusion. Moreover, every subject that was of interest to +Vronsky, she studied in books and special journals, so that he +often went straight to her with questions relating to agriculture +or architecture, sometimes even with questions relating to +horse-breeding or sport. He was amazed at her knowledge, her +memory, and at first was disposed to doubt it, to ask for +confirmation of her facts; and she would find what he asked for +in some book, and show it to him. + +The building of the hospital, too, interested her. She did not +merely assist, but planned and suggested a great deal herself. +But her chief thought was still of herself--how far she was dear +to Vronsky, how far she could make up to him for all he had given +up. Vronsky appreciated this desire not only to please, but to +serve him, which had become the sole aim of her existence, but at +the same time he wearied of the loving snares in which she tried +to hold him fast. As time went on, and he saw himself more and +more often held fast in these snares, he had an ever growing +desire, not so much to escape from them, as to try whether they +hindered his freedom. Had it not been for this growing desire to +be free, not to have scenes every time he wanted to go to the +town to a meeting or a race, Vronsky would have been perfectly +satisfied with his life. The role he had taken up, the role of a +wealthy landowner, one of that class which ought to be the very +heart of the Russian aristocracy, was entirely to his taste; and +now, after spending six months in that character, he derived even +greater satisfaction from it. And his management of his estate, +which occupied and absorbed him more and more, was most +successful. In spite of the immense sums cost him by the +hospital, by machinery, by cows ordered from Switzerland, and +many other things, he was convinced that he was not wasting, but +increasing his substance. In all matters affecting income, the +sales of timber, wheat, and wool, the letting of lands, Vronsky +was hard as a rock, and knew well how to keep up prices. In all +operations on a large scale on this and his other estates, he +kept to the simplest methods involving no risk, and in trifling +details he was careful and exacting to an extreme degree. In +spite of all the cunning and ingenuity of the German steward, who +would try to tempt him into purchases by making his original +estimate always far larger than really required, and then +representing to Vronsky that he might get the thing cheaper, and +so make a profit, Vronsky did not give in. He listened to his +steward, cross-examined him, and only agreed to his suggestions +when the implement to be ordered or constructed was the very +newest, not yet known in Russia, and likely to excite wonder. +Apart from such exceptions, he resolved upon an increased outlay +only where there was a surplus, and in making such an outlay he +went into the minutest details, and insisted on getting the very +best for his money; so that by the method on which he managed his +affairs, it was clear that he was not wasting, but increasing his +substance. + +In October there were the provincial elections in the Kashinsky +province, where were the estates of Vronsky, Sviazhsky, +Koznishev, Oblonsky, and a small part of Levin's land. + +These elections were attracting public attention from several +circumstances connected with them, and also from the people +taking part in them. There had been a great deal of talk about +them, and great preparations were being made for them. Persons +who never attended the elections were coming from Moscow, from +Petersburg, and from abroad to attend these. Vronsky had long +before promised Sviazhsky to go to them. Before the elections +Sviazhsky, who often visited Vozdvizhenskoe, drove over to fetch +Vronsky. On the day before there had been almost a quarrel +between Vronsky and Anna over this proposed expedition. It was +the very dullest autumn weather, which is so dreary in the +country, and so, preparing himself for a struggle, Vronsky, with +a hard and cold expression, informed Anna of his departure as he +had never spoken to her before. But, to his surprise, Anna +accepted the information with great composure, and merely asked +when he would be back. He looked intently at her, at a loss to +explain this composure. She smiled at his look. He knew that +way she had of withdrawing into herself, and knew that it only +happened when she had determined upon something without letting +him know her plans. He was afraid of this; but he was so anxious +to avoid a scene that he kept up appearances, and half sincerely +believed in what he longed to believe in--her reasonableness. + +"I hope you won't be dull?" + +"I hope not," said Anna. "I got a box of books yesterday from +Gautier's. No, I shan't be dull." + +"She's trying to take that tone, and so much the better," he +thought, "or else it would be the same thing over and over +again." + +And he set off for the elections without appealing to her for a +candid explanation. It was the first time since the beginning of +their intimacy that he had parted from her without a full +explanation. From one point of view this troubled him, but on +the other side he felt that it was better so. "At first there +will be, as this time, something undefined kept back, and then +she will get used to it. In any case I can give up anything for +her, but not my masculine independence," he thought. + + + +Chapter 26 + + +In September Levin moved to Moscow for Kitty's confinement. He +had spent a whole month in Moscow with nothing to do, when Sergey +Ivanovitch, who had property in the Kashinsky province, and took +great interest in the question of the approaching elections, made +ready to set off to the elections. He invited his brother, who +had a vote in the Seleznevsky district, to come with him. Levin +had, moreover, to transact in Kashin some extremely important +business relating to the wardship of land and to the receiving of +certain redemption money for his sister, who was abroad. + +Levin still hesitated, but Kitty, who saw that he was bored in +Moscow, and urged him to go, on her own authority ordered him the +proper nobleman's uniform, costing seven pounds. And that seven +pounds paid for the uniform was the chief cause that finally +decided Levin to go. He went to Kashin.... + +Levin had been six days in Kashin, visiting the assembly each +day, and busily engaged about his sister's business, which still +dragged on. The district marshals of nobility were all occupied +with the elections, and it was impossible to get the simplest +thing done that depended upon the court of wardship. The other +matter, the payment of the sums due, was met too by difficulties. +After long negotiations over the legal details, the money was at +last ready to be paid; but the notary, a most obliging person, +could not hand over the order, because it must have the signature +of the president, and the president, though he had not given over +his duties to a deputy, was at the elections. All these worrying +negotiations, this endless going from place to place, and talking +with pleasant and excellent people, who quite saw the +unpleasantness of the petitioner's position, but were powerless +to assist him--all these efforts that yielded no result, led to a +feeling of misery in Levin akin to the mortifying helplessness +one experiences in dreams when one tries to use physical force. +He felt this frequently as he talked to his most good-natured +solicitor. This solicitor did, it seemed, everything possible, +and strained every nerve to get him out of his difficulties. "I +tell you what you might try," he said more than once; "go to +so-and-so and so-and-so," and the solicitor drew up a regular +plan for getting round the fatal point that hindered everything. +But he would add immediately, "It'll mean some delay, anyway, but +you might try it." And Levin did try, and did go. Everyone was +kind and civil, but the point evaded seemed to crop up again in +the end, and again to bar the way. What was particularly trying, +was that Levin could not make out with whom he was struggling, to +whose interest it was that his business should not be done. That +no one seemed to know; the solicitor certainly did not know. If +Levin could have understood why, just as he saw why one can only +approach the booking office of a railway station in single file, +it would not have been so vexatious and tiresome to him. But +with the hindrances that confronted him in his business, no one +could explain why they existed. + +But Levin had changed a good deal since his marriage; he was +patient, and if he could not see why it was all arranged like +this, he told himself that he could not judge without knowing all +about it, and that most likely it must be so, and he tried not to +fret. + +In attending the elections, too, and taking part in them, he +tried now not to judge, not to fall foul of them, but to +comprehend as fully as he could the question which was so +earnestly and ardently absorbing honest and excellent men whom he +respected. Since his marriage there had been revealed to Levin +so many new and serious aspects of life that had previously, +through his frivolous attitude to them, seemed of no importance, +that in the question of the elections too he assumed and tried to +find some serious significance. + +Sergey Ivanovitch explained to him the meaning and object of the +proposed revolution at the elections. The marshal of the +province in whose hands the law had placed the control of so many +important public functions--the guardianship of wards (the very +department which was giving Levin so much trouble just now), the +disposal of large sums subscribed by the nobility of the +province, the high schools, female, male, and military, and +popular instruction on the new model, and finally, the district +council--the marshal of the province, Snetkov, was a nobleman of +the old school,--dissipating an immense fortune, a good-hearted +man, honest after his own fashion, but utterly without any +comprehension of the needs of modern days. He always took, in +every question, the side of the nobility; he was positively +antagonistic to the spread of popular education, and he succeeded +in giving a purely party character to the district council which +ought by rights to be of such an immense importance. What was +needed was to put in his place a fresh, capable, perfectly modern +man, of contemporary ideas, and to frame their policy so as from +the rights conferred upon the nobles, not as the nobility, but as +an element of the district council, to extract all the powers of +self-government that could possibly be derived from them. In the +wealthy Kashinsky province, which always took the lead of other +provinces in everything, there was now such a preponderance of +forces that this policy, once carried through properly there, +might serve as a model for other provinces for all Russia. And +hence the whole question was of the greatest importance. It was +proposed to elect as marshal in place of Snetkov either +Sviazhsky, or, better still, Nevyedovsky, a former university +professor, a man of remarkable intelligence and a great friend of +Sergey Ivanovitch. + +The meeting was opened by the governor, who made a speech to the +nobles, urging them to elect the public functionaries, not from +regard for persons, but for the service and welfare of their +fatherland, and hoping that the honorable nobility of the +Kashinsky province would, as at all former elections, hold their +duty as sacred, and vindicate the exalted confidence of the +monarch. + +When he had finished with his speech, the governor walked out of +the hall, and the noblemen noisily and eagerly--some even +enthusiastically--followed him and thronged round him while he +put on his fur coat and conversed amicably with the marshal of +the province. Levin, anxious to see into everything and not to +miss anything, stood there too in the crowd, and heard the +governor say: "Please tell Marya Ivanovna my wife is very sorry +she couldn't come to the Home." And thereupon the nobles in high +good-humor sorted out their fur coats and all drove off to the +cathedral. + +In the cathedral Levin, lifting his hand like the rest and +repeating the words of the archdeacon, swore with most terrible +oaths to do all the governor had hoped they would do. Church +services always affected Levin, and as he uttered the words "I +kiss the cross," and glanced round at the crowd of young and old +men repeating the same, he felt touched. + +On the second and third days there was business relating to the +finances of the nobility and the female high school, of no +importance whatever, as Sergey Ivanovitch explained, and Levin, +busy seeing after his own affairs, did not attend the meetings. +On the fourth day the auditing of the marshal's accounts took +place at the high table of the marshal of the province. And then +there occurred the first skirmish between the new party and the +old. The committee who had been deputed to verify the accounts +reported to the meeting that all was in order. The marshal of +the province got up, thanked the nobility for their confidence, +and shed tears. The nobles gave him a loud welcome, and shook +hands with him. But at that instant a nobleman of Sergey +Ivanovitch's party said that he had heard that the committee had +not verified the accounts, considering such a verification an +insult to the marshal of the province. One of the members of the +committee incautiously admitted this. Then a small gentleman, +very young-looking but very malignant, began to say that it would +probably be agreeable to the marshal of the province to give an +account of his expenditures of the public moneys, and that the +misplaced delicacy of the members of the committee was depriving +him of this moral satisfaction. Then the members of the +committee tried to withdraw their admission, and Sergey +Ivanovitch began to prove that they must logically admit either +that they had verified the accounts or that they had not, and he +developed this dilemma in detail. Sergey Ivanovitch was answered +by the spokesman of the opposite party. Then Sviazhsky spoke, +and then the malignant gentleman again. The discussion lasted a +long time and ended in nothing. Levin was surprised that they +should dispute upon this subject so long, especially as, when he +asked Sergey Ivanovitch whether he supposed that money had been +misappropriated, Sergey Ivanovitch answered: + +"Oh, no! He's an honest man. But those old-fashioned methods of +paternal family arrangements in the management of provincial +affairs must be broken down." + +On the fifth day came the elections of the district marshals. It +was rather a stormy day in several districts. In the Seleznevsky +district Sviazhsky was elected unanimously without a ballot, and +he gave a dinner that evening. + + + +Chapter 27 + + +The sixth day was fixed for the election of the marshal of the +province. + +The rooms, large and small, were full of noblemen in all sorts of +uniforms. Many had come only for that day. Men who had not seen +each other for years, some from the Crimea, some from Petersburg, +some from abroad, met in the rooms of the Hall of Nobility. +There was much discussion around the governor's table under the +portrait of the Tsar. + +The nobles, both in the larger and the smaller rooms, grouped +themselves in camps, and from their hostile and suspicious +glances, from the silence that fell upon them when outsiders +approached a group, and from the way that some, whispering +together, retreated to the farther corridor, it was evident that +each side had secrets from the other. In appearance the noblemen +were sharply divided into two classes: the old and the new. The +old were for the most part either in old uniforms of the +nobility, buttoned up closely, with spurs and hats, or in their +own special naval, cavalry, infantry, or official uniforms. The +uniforms of the older men were embroidered in the old-fashioned +way with epaulets on their shoulders; they were unmistakably +tight and short in the waist, as though their wearers had grown +out of them. The younger men wore the uniform of the nobility +with long waists and broad shoulders, unbuttoned over white +waistcoats, or uniforms with black collars and with the +embroidered badges of justices of the peace. To the younger men +belonged the court uniforms that here and there brightened up the +crowd. + +But the division into young and old did not correspond with the +division of parties. Some of the young men, as Levin observed, +belonged to the old party; and some of the very oldest noblemen, +on the contrary, were whispering with Sviazhsky, and were +evidently ardent partisans of the new party. + +Levin stood in the smaller room, where they were smoking and +taking light refreshments, close to his own friends, and +listening to what they were saying, he conscientiously exerted +all his intelligence trying to understand what was said. Sergey +Ivanovitch was the center round which the others grouped +themselves. He was listening at that moment to Sviazhsky and +Hliustov, the marshal of another district, who belonged to their +party. Hliustov would not agree to go with his district to ask +Snetkov to stand, while Sviazhsky was persuading him to do so, +and Sergey Ivanovitch was approving of the plan. Levin could not +make out why the opposition was to ask the marshal to stand whom +they wanted to supersede. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch, who had just been drinking and taking some +lunch, came up to them in his uniform of a gentleman of the +bedchamber, wiping his lips with a perfumed handkerchief of +bordered batiste. + +"We are placing our forces," he said, pulling out his whiskers, +"Sergey Ivanovitch!" + +And listening to the conversation, he supported Sviazhsky's +contention. + +"One district's enough, and Sviazhsky's obviously of the +opposition," he said, words evidently intelligible to all except +Levin. + +"Why, Kostya, you here too! I suppose you're converted, eh?" he +added, turning to Levin and drawing his arm through his. Levin +would have been glad indeed to be converted, but could not make +out what the point was, and retreating a few steps from the +speakers, he explained to Stepan Arkadyevitch his inability to +understand why the marshal of the province should be asked to +stand. + +_"O sancta simplicitas!"_ said Stepan Arkadyevitch, and briefly and +clearly he explained it to Levin. If, as at previous elections, +all the districts asked the marshal of the province to stand, +then he would be elected without a ballot. That must not be. +Now eight districts had agreed to call upon him: if two refused +to do so, Snetkov might decline to stand at all; and then the old +party might choose another of their party, which would throw them +completely out in their reckoning. But if only one district, +Sviazhsky's, did not call upon him to stand, Snetkov would let +himself be balloted for. They were even, some of them, going to +vote for him, and purposely to let him get a good many votes, so +that the enemy might be thrown off the scent, and when a +candidate of the other side was put up, they too might give him +some votes. Levin understood to some extent, but not fully, and +would have put a few more questions, when suddenly everyone +began talking and making a noise and they moved towards the big +room. + +"What is it? eh? whom?" "No guarantee? whose? what?" "They won't +pass him?" "No guarantee?" "They won't let Flerov in?" "Eh, +because of the charge against him?" "Why, at this rate, they +won't admit anyone. It's a swindle!" "The law!" Levin heard +exclamations on all sides, and he moved into the big room +together with the others, all hurrying somewhere and afraid of +missing something. Squeezed by the crowding noblemen, he drew +near the high table where the marshal of the province, Sviazhsky, +and the other leaders were hotly disputing about something. + + + +Chapter 28 + + +Levin was standing rather far off. A nobleman breathing heavily +and hoarsely at his side, and another whose thick boots were +creaking, prevented him from hearing distinctly. He could only +hear the soft voice of the marshal faintly, then the shrill voice +of the malignant gentleman, and then the voice of Sviazhsky. +They were disputing, as far as he could make out, as to the +interpretation to be put on the act and the exact meaning of the +words: "liable to be called up for trial." + +The crowd parted to make way for Sergey Ivanovitch approaching +the table. Sergey Ivanovitch, waiting till the malignant +gentleman had finished speaking, said that he thought the best +solution would be to refer to the act itself, and asked the +secretary to find the act. The act said that in case of +difference of opinion, there must be a ballot. + +Sergey Ivanovitch read the act and began to explain its meaning, +but at that point a tall, stout, round-shouldered landowner, with +dyed whiskers, in a tight uniform that cut the back of his neck, +interrupted him. He went up to the table, and striking it with +his finger ring, he shouted loudly: "A ballot! Put it to the +vote! No need for more talking!" Then several voices began to +talk all at once, and the tall nobleman with the ring, getting +more and more exasperated, shouted more and more loudly. But it +was impossible to make out what he said. + +He was shouting for the very course Sergey Ivanovitch had +proposed; but it was evident that he hated him and all his party, +and this feeling of hatred spread through the whole party and +roused in opposition to it the same vindictiveness, though in a +more seemly form, on the other side. Shouts were raised, and for +a moment all was confusion, so that the marshal of the province +had to call for order. + +"A ballot! A ballot! Every nobleman sees it! We shed our blood +for our country!... The confidence of the monarch.... No +checking the accounts of the marshal; he's not a cashier.... But +that's not the point.... Votes, please! Beastly!..." shouted +furious and violent voices on all sides. Looks and faces were +even more violent and furious than their words. They expressed +the most implacable hatred. Levin did not in the least +understand what was the matter, and he marveled at the passion +with which it was disputed whether or not the decision about +Flerov should be put to the vote. He forgot, as Sergey +Ivanovitch explained to him afterwards, this syllogism: that it +was necessary for the public good to get rid of the marshal of +the province; that to get rid of the marshal it was necessary to +have a majority of votes; that to get a majority of votes it was +necessary to secure Flerov's right to vote; that to secure the +recognition of Flerov's right to vote they must decide on the +interpretation to be put on the act. + +"And one vote may decide the whole question, and one must be +serious and consecutive, if one wants to be of use in public +life," concluded Sergey Ivanovitch. But Levin forgot all that, +and it was painful to him to see all these excellent persons, for +whom he had a respect, in such an unpleasant and vicious state of +excitement. To escape from this painful feeling he went away +into the other room where there was nobody except the waiters at +the refreshment bar. Seeing the waiters busy over washing up the +crockery and setting in order their plates and wine glasses, +seeing their calm and cheerful faces, Levin felt an unexpected +sense of relief as though he had come out of a stuffy room into +the fresh air. He began walking up and down, looking with +pleasure at the waiters. He particularly liked the way one +gray-whiskered waiter, who showed his scorn for the other younger +ones and was jeered at by them, was teaching them how to fold up +napkins properly. Levin was just about to enter into +conversation with the old waiter, when the secretary of the court +of wardship, a little old man whose specialty it was to know all +the noblemen of the province by name and patronymic, drew him +away. + +"Please come, Konstantin Dmitrievitch," he said, "your brother's +looking for you. They are voting on the legal point." + +Levin walked into the room, received a white ball, and followed +his brother, Sergey Ivanovitch, to the table where Sviazhsky was +standing with a significant and ironical face, holding his beard +in his fist and sniffing at it. Sergey Ivanovitch put his hand +into the box, put the ball somewhere, and making room for Levin, +stopped. Levin advanced, but utterly forgetting what he was to +do, and much embarrassed, he turned to Sergey Ivanovitch with the +question, "Where am I to put it?" He asked this softly, at a +moment when there was talking going on near, so that he had hoped +his question would not be overheard. But the persons speaking +paused, and his improper question was overheard. Sergey +Ivanovitch frowned. + +"That is a matter for each man's own decision," he said severely. + +Several people smiled. Levin crimsoned, hurriedly thrust his +hand under the cloth, and put the ball to the right as it was in +his right hand. Having put it in, he recollected that he ought +to have thrust his left hand too, and so he thrust it in though +too late, and, still more overcome with confusion, he beat a +hasty retreat into the background. + +"A hundred and twenty-six for admission! Ninety-eight against!" +sang out the voice of the secretary, who could not pronounce the +letter _r_. Then there was a laugh; a button and two nuts were +found in the box. The nobleman was allowed the right to vote, +and the new party had conquered. + +But the old party did not consider themselves conquered. Levin +heard that they were asking Snetkov to stand, and he saw that a +crowd of noblemen was surrounding the marshal, who was saying +something. Levin went nearer. In reply Snetkov spoke of the +trust the noblemen of the province had placed in him, the +affection they had shown him, which he did not deserve, as his +only merit had been his attachment to the nobility, to whom he +had devoted twelve years of service. Several times he repeated +the words: "I have served to the best of my powers with truth and +good faith, I value your goodness and thank you," and suddenly he +stopped short from the tears that choked him, and went out of the +room. Whether these tears came from a sense of the injustice +being done him, from his love for the nobility, or from the +strain of the position he was placed in, feeling himself +surrounded by enemies, his emotion infected the assembly, the +majority were touched, and Levin felt a tenderness for Snetkov. + +In the doorway the marshal of the province jostled against Levin. + +"Beg pardon, excuse me, please," he said as to a stranger, but +recognizing Levin, he smiled timidly. It seemed to Levin that he +would have liked to say something, but could not speak for +emotion. His face and his whole figure in his uniform with the +crosses, and white trousers striped with braid, as he moved +hurriedly along, reminded Levin of some hunted beast who sees +that he is in evil case. This expression in the marshal's face +was particularly touching to Levin, because, only the day before, +he had been at his house about his trustee business and had seen +him in all his grandeur, a kind-hearted, fatherly man. The big +house with the old family furniture; the rather dirty, far from +stylish, but respectful footmen, unmistakably old house serfs who +had stuck to their master; the stout, good-natured wife in a cap +with lace and a Turkish shawl, petting her pretty grandchild, her +daughter's daughter; the young son, a sixth form high school boy, +coming home from school, and greeting his father, kissing his big +hand; the genuine, cordial words and gestures of the old man--all +this had the day before roused an instinctive feeling of respect +and sympathy in Levin. This old man was a touching and pathetic +figure to Levin now, and he longed to say something pleasant to +him. + +"So you're sure to be our marshal again," he said. + +"It's not likely," said the marshal, looking round with a scared +expression. "I'm worn out, I'm old. If there are men younger +and more deserving than I, let them serve." + +And the marshal disappeared through a side door. + +The most solemn moment was at hand. They were to proceed +immediately to the election. The leaders of both parties were +reckoning white and black on their fingers. + +The discussion upon Flerov had given the new party not only +Flerov's vote, but had also gained time for them, so that they +could send to fetch three noblemen who had been rendered unable +to take part in the elections by the wiles of the other party. +Two noble gentlemen, who had a weakness for strong drink, had +been made drunk by the partisans of Snetkov, and a third had been +robbed of his uniform. + +On learning this, the new party had made haste, during the +dispute about Flerov, to send some of their men in a sledge to +clothe the stripped gentleman, and to bring along one of the +intoxicated to the meeting. + +"I've brought one, drenched him with water," said the landowner, +who had gone on this errand, to Sviazhsky. "He's all right? +he'll do." + +"Not too drunk, he won't fall down?" said Sviazhsky, shaking his +head. + +"No, he's first-rate. If only they don't give him any more +here.... I've told the waiter not to give him anything on any +account." + + + +Chapter 29 + + +The narrow room, in which they were smoking and taking refreshments, +was full of noblemen. The excitement grew more intense, +and every face betrayed some uneasiness. The excitement was +specially keen for the leaders of each party, who knew every +detail, and had reckoned up every vote. They were the generals +organizing the approaching battle. The rest, like the rank and +file before an engagement, though they were getting ready for the +fight, sought for other distractions in the interval. Some were +lunching, standing at the bar, or sitting at the table; others +were walking up and down the long room, smoking cigarettes, and +talking with friends whom they had not seen for a long while. + +Levin did not care to eat, and he was not smoking; he did not +want to join his own friends, that is Sergey Ivanovitch, Stepan +Arkadyevitch, Sviazhsky and the rest, because Vronsky in his +equerry's uniform was standing with them in eager conversation. +Levin had seen him already at the meeting on the previous day, +and he had studiously avoided him, not caring to greet him. He +went to the window and sat down, scanning the groups, and +listening to what was being said around him. He felt depressed, +especially because everyone else was, as he saw, eager, anxious, +and interested, and he alone, with an old, toothless little man +with mumbling lips wearing a naval uniform, sitting beside him, +had no interest in it and nothing to do. + +"He's such a blackguard! I have told him so, but it makes no +difference. Only think of it! He couldn't collect it in three +years!" he heard vigorously uttered by a round-shouldered, short, +country gentleman, who had pomaded hair hanging on his +embroidered collar, and new boots obviously put on for the +occasion, with heels that tapped energetically as he spoke. +Casting a displeased glance at Levin, this gentleman sharply +turned his back. + +"Yes, it's a dirty business, there's no denying," a small +gentleman assented in a high voice. + +Next, a whole crowd of country gentlemen, surrounding a stout +general, hurriedly came near Levin. These persons were +unmistakably seeking a place where they could talk without being +overheard. + +"How dare he say I had his breeches stolen! Pawned them for +drink, I expect. Damn the fellow, prince indeed! He'd better +not say it, the beast!" + +"But excuse me! They take their stand on the act," was being +said in another group; "the wife must be registered as noble." + +"Oh, damn your acts! I speak from my heart. We're all +gentlemen, aren't we? Above suspicion." + +"Shall we go on, your excellency, _fine champagne?_" + +Another group was following a nobleman, who was shouting +something in a loud voice; it was one of the three intoxicated +gentlemen. + +"I always advised Marya Semyonovna to let for a fair rent, for +she can never save a profit," he heard a pleasant voice say. The +speaker was a country gentleman with gray whiskers, wearing the +regimental uniform of an old general staff-officer. It was the +very landowner Levin had met at Sviazhsky's. He knew him at +once. The landowner too stared at Levin, and they exchanged +greetings. + +"Very glad to see you! To be sure! I remember you very well. +Last year at our district marshal, Nikolay Ivanovitch's." + +"Well, and how is your land doing?" asked Levin. + +"Oh, still just the same, always at a loss," the landowner +answered with a resigned smile, but with an expression of +serenity and conviction that so it must be. "And how do you come +to be in our province?" he asked. "Come to take part in our _coup +d'etat?_" he said, confidently pronouncing the French words with a +bad accent. "All Russia's here--gentlemen of the bedchamber, +and everything short of the ministry." He pointed to the +imposing figure of Stepan Arkadyevitch in white trousers and his +court uniform, walking by with a general. + +"I ought to own that I don't very well understand the drift of +the provincial elections," said Levin. + +The landowner looked at him. + +"Why, what is there to understand? There's no meaning in it at +all. It's a decaying institution that goes on running only by +the force of inertia. Just look, the very uniforms tell you that +it's an assembly of justices of the peace, permanent members of +the court, and so on, but not of noblemen." + +"Then why do you come?" asked Levin. + +"From habit, nothing else. Then, too, one must keep up +connections. It's a moral obligation of a sort. And then, to +tell the truth, there's one's own interests. My son-in-law wants +to stand as a permanent member; they're not rich people, and he +must be brought forward. These gentlemen, now, what do they come +for?" he said, pointing to the malignant gentleman, who was +talking at the high table. + +"That's the new generation of nobility." + +"New it may be, but nobility it isn't. They're proprietors of a +sort, but we're the landowners. As noblemen, they're cutting +their own throats." + +"But you say it's an institution that's served its time." + +"That it may be, but still it ought to be treated a little more +respectfully. Snetkov, now...We may be of use, or we may not, +but we're the growth of a thousand years. If we're laying out a +garden, planning one before the house, you know, and there you've +a tree that's stood for centuries in the very spot.... Old and +gnarled it may be, and yet you don't cut down the old fellow to +make room for the flowerbeds, but lay out your beds so as to take +advantage of the tree. You won't grow him again in a year," he +said cautiously, and he immediately changed the conversation. +"Well, and how is your land doing?" + +"Oh, not very well. I make five per cent." + +"Yes, but you don't reckon your own work. Aren't you worth +something too? I'll tell you my own case. Before I took to +seeing after the land, I had a salary of three hundred pounds +from the service. Now I do more work than I did in the service, +and like you I get five per cent. on the land, and thank God for +that. But one's work is thrown in for nothing." + +"Then why do you do it, if it's a clear loss?" + +"Oh, well, one does it! What would you have? It's habit, and +one knows it's how it should be. And what's more," the landowner +went on, leaning his elbows on the window and chatting on, "my +son, I must tell you, has no taste for it. There's no doubt +he'll be a scientific man. So there'll be no one to keep it up. +And yet one does it. Here this year I've planted an orchard." + +"Yes, yes," said Levin, "that's perfectly true. I always feel +there's no real balance of gain in my work on the land, and yet +one does it.... It's a sort of duty one feels to the land." + +"But I tell you what," the landowner pursued; "a neighbor of +mine, a merchant, was at my place. We walked about the fields +and the garden. 'No,' said he, 'Stepan Vassilievitch, +everything's well looked after, but your garden's neglected.' +But, as a fact, it's well kept up. 'To my thinking, I'd cut down +that lime-tree. Here you've thousands of limes, and each would +make two good bundles of bark. And nowadays that bark's worth +something. I'd cut down the lot.'" + +"And with what he made he'd increase his stock, or buy some land +for a trifle, and let it out in lots to the peasants," Levin +added, smiling. He had evidently more than once come across +those commercial calculations. "And he'd make his fortune. But +you and I must thank God if we keep what we've got and leave it +to our children." + +"You're married, I've heard?" said the landowner. + +"Yes," Levin answered, with proud satisfaction. "Yes, it's +rather strange," he went on. "So we live without making +anything, as though we were ancient vestals set to keep in a +fire." + +The landowner chuckled under his white mustaches. + +"There are some among us, too, like our friend Nikolay +Ivanovitch, or Count Vronsky, that's settled here lately, who try +to carry on their husbandry as though it were a factory; but so +far it leads to nothing but making away with capital on it." + +"But why is it we don't do like the merchants? Why don't we cut +down our parks for timber?" said Levin, returning to a thought +that had struck him. + +"Why, as you said, to keep the fire in. Besides that's not work +for a nobleman. And our work as noblemen isn't done here at the +elections, but yonder, each in our corner. There's a class +instinct, too, of what one ought and oughtn't to do. There's the +peasants, too, I wonder at them sometimes; any good peasant tries +to take all the land he can. However bad the land is, he'll work +it. Without a return too. At a simple loss." + +"Just as we do," said Levin. "Very, very glad to have met you," +he added, seeing Sviazhsky approaching him. + +"And here we've met for the first time since we met at your +place," said the landowner to Sviazhsky, "and we've had a good +talk too." + +"Well, have you been attacking the new order of things?" said +Sviazhsky with a smile. + +"That we're bound to do." + +"You've relieved your feelings?" + + + +Chapter 30 + + +Sviazhsky took Levin's arm, and went with him to his own friends. +This time there was no avoiding Vronsky. He was standing with +Stepan Arkadyevitch and Sergey Ivanovitch, and looking straight +at Levin as he drew near. + +"Delighted! I believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you...at +Princess Shtcherbatskaya's," he said, giving Levin his hand. + +"Yes, I quite remember our meeting," said Levin, and blushing +crimson, he turned away immediately, and began talking to his +brother. + +With a slight smile Vronsky went on talking to Sviazhsky, +obviously without the slightest inclination to enter into +conversation with Levin. But Levin, as he talked to his brother, +was continually looking round at Vronsky, trying to think of +something to say to him to gloss over his rudeness. + +"What are we waiting for now?" asked Levin, looking at Sviazhsky +and Vronsky. + +"For Snetkov. He has to refuse or to consent to stand," answered +Sviazhsky. + +"Well, and what has he done, consented or not?" + +"That's the point, that he's done neither," said Vronsky. + +"And if he refuses, who will stand then?" asked Levin, looking at +Vronsky. + +"Whoever chooses to," said Sviazhsky. + +"Shall you?" asked Levin. + +"Certainly not I," said Sviazhsky, looking confused, and turning +an alarmed glance at the malignant gentleman, who was standing +beside Sergey Ivanovitch. + +"Who then? Nevyedovsky?" said Levin, feeling he was putting his +foot into it. + +But this was worse still. Nevyedovsky and Sviazhsky were the two +candidates. + +"I certainly shall not, under any circumstances," answered the +malignant gentleman. + +This was Nevyedovsky himself. Sviazhsky introduced him to Levin. + +"Well, you find it exciting too?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, +winking at Vronsky. "It's something like a race. One might bet +on it." + +"Yes, it is keenly exciting," said Vronsky. "And once taking the +thing up, one's eager to see it through. It's a fight!" he said, +scowling and setting his powerful jaws. + +"What a capable fellow Sviazhsky is! Sees it all so clearly." + +"Oh, yes!" Vronsky assented indifferently. + +A silence followed, during which Vronsky--since he had to look at +something--looked at Levin, at his feet, at his uniform, then at +his face, and noticing his gloomy eyes fixed upon him, he said, +in order to say something: + +"How is it that you, living constantly in the country, are not a +justice of the peace? You are not in the uniform of one." + +"It's because I consider that the justice of the peace is a silly +institution," Levin answered gloomily. He had been all the time +looking for an opportunity to enter into conversation with +Vronsky, so as to smooth over his rudeness at their first +meeting. + +"I don't think so, quite the contrary," Vronsky said, with quiet +surprise. + +"It's a plaything," Levin cut him short. "We don't want justices +of the peace. I've never had a single thing to do with them +during eight years. And what I have had was decided wrongly by +them. The justice of the peace is over thirty miles from me. +For some matter of two roubles I should have to send a lawyer, +who costs me fifteen." + +And he related how a peasant had stolen some flour from the +miller, and when the miller told him of it, had lodged a +complaint for slander. All this was utterly uncalled for and +stupid, and Levin felt it himself as he said it. + +"Oh, this is such an original fellow!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch +with his most soothing, almond-oil smile. "But come along; I +think they're voting...." + +And they separated. + +"I can't understand," said Sergey Ivanovitch, who had observed +his brother's clumsiness, "I can't understand how anyone can be +so absolutely devoid of political tact. That's where we Russians +are so deficient. The marshal of the province is our opponent, +and with him you're _ami cochon_, and you beg him to stand. Count +Vronsky, now ...I'm not making a friend of him; he's asked me +to dinner, and I'm not going; but he's one of our side--why make +an enemy of him? Then you ask Nevyedovsky if he's going to +stand. That's not a thing to do." + +"Oh, I don't understand it at all! And it's all such nonsense," +Levin answered gloomily. + +"You say it's all such nonsense, but as soon as you have anything +to do with it, you make a muddle." + +Levin did not answer, and they walked together into the big room. + +The marshal of the province, though he was vaguely conscious in +the air of some trap being prepared for him, and though he had +not been called upon by all to stand, had still made up his mind +to stand. All was silence in the room. The secretary announced +in a loud voice that the captain of the guards, Mihail +Stepanovitch Snetkov, would now be balloted for as marshal of the +province. + +The district marshals walked carrying plates, on which were +balls, from their tables to the high table, and the election +began. + +"Put it in the right side," whispered Stepan Arkadyevitch, as +with his brother Levin followed the marshal of his district to +the table. But Levin had forgotten by now the calculations that +had been explained to him, and was afraid Stepan Arkadyevitch +might be mistaken in saying "the right side." Surely Snetkov was +the enemy. As he went up, he held the ball in his right hand, +but thinking he was wrong, just at the box he changed to the left +hand, and undoubtedly put the ball to the left. An adept in the +business, standing at the box and seeing by the mere action of +the elbow where each put his ball, scowled with annoyance. It +was no good for him to use his insight. + +Everything was still, and the counting of the balls was heard. +Then a single voice rose and proclaimed the numbers for and +against. The marshal had been voted for by a considerable +majority. All was noise and eager movement towards the doors. +Snetkov came in, and the nobles thronged round him, +congratulating him. + +"Well, now is it over?" Levin asked Sergey Ivanovitch. + +"It's only just beginning," Sviazhsky said, replying for Sergey +Ivanovitch with a smile. "Some other candidate may receive more +votes than the marshal." + +Levin had quite forgotten about that. Now he could only remember +that there was some sort of trickery in it, but he was too bored +to think what it was exactly. He felt depressed, and longed to +get out of the crowd. + +As no one was paying any attention to him, and no one apparently +needed him, he quietly slipped away into the little room where +the refreshments were, and again had a great sense of comfort +when he saw the waiters. The little old waiter pressed him to +have something, and Levin agreed. After eating a cutlet with +beans and talking to the waiters of their former masters, Levin, +not wishing to go back to the hall, where it was all so +distasteful to him, proceeded to walk through the galleries. The +galleries were full of fashionably dressed ladies, leaning over +the balustrade and trying not to lose a single word of what was +being said below. With the ladies were sitting and standing +smart lawyers, high school teachers in spectacles, and officers. +Everywhere they were talking of the election, and of how worried +the marshal was, and how splendid the discussions had been. In +one group Levin heard his brother's praises. One lady was +telling a lawyer: + +"How glad I am I heard Koznishev! It's worth losing one's +dinner. He's exquisite! So clear and distinct all of it! +There's not one of you in the law courts that speaks like that. +The only one is Meidel, and he's not so eloquent by a long way." + +Finding a free place, Levin leaned over the balustrade and began +looking and listening. + +All the noblemen were sitting railed off behind barriers +according to their districts. In the middle of the room stood a +man in a uniform, who shouted in a loud, high voice: + +"As a candidate for the marshalship of the nobility of the +province we call upon staff-captain Yevgeney Ivanovitch Apuhtin!" +A dead silence followed, and then a weak old voice was heard: +"Declined!" + +"We call upon the privy councilor Pyotr Petrovitch Bol," the +voice began again. + +"Declined!" a high boyish voice replied. + +Again it began, and again "Declined." And so it went on for about +an hour. Levin, with his elbows on the balustrade, looked and +listened. At first he wondered and wanted to know what it meant; +then feeling sure that he could not make it out he began to be +bored. Then recalling all the excitement and vindictiveness he +had seen on all the faces, he felt sad; he made up his mind to +go, and went downstairs. As he passed through the entry to the +galleries he met a dejected high school boy walking up and down +with tired-looking eyes. On the stairs he met a couple--a lady +running quickly on her high heels and the jaunty deputy +prosecutor. + +"I told you you weren't late," the deputy prosecutor was saying +at the moment when Levin moved aside to let the lady pass. + +Levin was on the stairs to the way out, and was just feeling in +his waistcoat pocket for the number of his overcoat, when the +secretary overtook him. + +"This way, please, Konstantin Dmitrievitch; they are voting." + +The candidate who was being voted on was Nevyedovsky, who had so +stoutly denied all idea of standing. Levin went up to the door +of the room; it was locked. The secretary knocked, the door +opened, and Levin was met by two red-faced gentlemen, who darted +out. + +"I can't stand any more of it," said one red-faced gentleman. + +After them the face of the marshal of the province was poked out. +His face was dreadful-looking from exhaustion and dismay. + +"I told you not to let any one out!" he cried to the doorkeeper. + +"I let someone in, your excellency!" + +"Mercy on us!" and with a heavy sigh the marshal of the province +walked with downcast head to the high table in the middle of the +room, his legs staggering in his white trousers. + +Nevyedovsky had scored a higher majority, as they had planned, +and he was the new marshal of the province. Many people were +amused, many were pleased and happy, many were in ecstasies, many +were disgusted and unhappy. The former marshal of the province +was in a state of despair, which he could not conceal. When +Nevyedovsky went out of the room, the crowd thronged round him +and followed him enthusiastically, just as they had followed the +governor who had opened the meetings, and just as they had +followed Snetkov when he was elected. + + + +Chapter 31 + + +The newly elected marshal and many of the successful party dined +that day with Vronsky. + +Vronsky had come to the elections partly because he was bored in +the country and wanted to show Anna his right to independence, +and also to repay Sviazhsky by his support at the election for +all the trouble he had taken for Vronsky at the district council +election, but chiefly in order strictly to perform all those +duties of a nobleman and landowner which he had taken upon +himself. But he had not in the least expected that the election +would so interest him, so keenly excite him, and that he would be +so good at this kind of thing. He was quite a new man in the +circle of the nobility of the province, but his success was +unmistakable, and he was not wrong in supposing that he had +already obtained a certain influence. This influence was due to +his wealth and reputation, the capital house in the town lent him +by his old friend Shirkov, who had a post in the department of +finances and was director of a flourishing bank in Kashin; the +excellent cook Vronsky had brought from the country, and his +friendship with the governor, who was a schoolfellow of +Vronsky's--a schoolfellow he had patronized and protected indeed. +But what contributed more than all to his success was his direct, +equable manner with everyone, which very quickly made the +majority of the noblemen reverse the current opinion of his +supposed haughtiness. He was himself conscious that, except that +whimsical gentleman married to Kitty Shtcherbatskaya, who had _a +propos de bottes_ poured out a stream of irrelevant absurdities +with such spiteful fury, every nobleman with whom he had made +acquaintance had become his adherent. He saw clearly, and other +people recognized it, too, that he had done a great deal to +secure the success of Nevyedovsky. And now at his own table, +celebrating Nevyedovsky's election, he was experiencing an +agreeable sense of triumph over the success of his candidate. +The election itself had so fascinated him that, if he could +succeed in getting married during the next three years, he began +to think of standing himself--much as after winning a race ridden +by a jockey, he had longed to ride a race himself. + +Today he was celebrating the success of his jockey. Vronsky sat +at the head of the table, on his right hand sat the young +governor, a general of high rank. To all the rest he was the +chief man in the province, who had solemnly opened the elections +with his speech, and aroused a feeling of respect and even of awe +in many people, as Vronsky saw; to Vronsky he was little Katka +Maslov--that had been his nickname in the Pages' Corps--whom he +felt to be shy and tried to _mettre a son aise_. On the left hand +sat Nevyedovsky with his youthful, stubborn, and malignant face. +With him Vronsky was simple and deferential. + +Sviazhsky took his failure very light-heartedly. It was indeed +no failure in his eyes, as he said himself, turning, glass in +hand, to Nevyedovsky; they could not have found a better +representative of the new movement, which the nobility ought to +follow. And so every honest person, as he said, was on the side +of today's success and was rejoicing over it. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch was glad, too, that he was having a good +time, and that everyone was pleased. The episode of the +elections served as a good occasion for a capital dinner. +Sviazhsky comically imitated the tearful discourse of the +marshal, and observed, addressing Nevyedovsky, that his +excellency would have to select another more complicated method +of auditing the accounts than tears. Another nobleman jocosely +described how footmen in stockings had been ordered for the +marshal's ball, and how now they would have to be sent back +unless the new marshal would give a ball with footmen in +stockings. + +Continually during dinner they said of Nevyedovsky: "our +marshal," and "your excellency." + +This was said with the same pleasure with which a bride is called +"Madame" and her husband's name. Nevyedovsky affected to be not +merely indifferent but scornful of this appellation, but it was +obvious that he was highly delighted, and had to keep a curb on +himself not to betray the triumph which was unsuitable to their +new liberal tone. + +After dinner several telegrams were sent to people interested in +the result of the election. And Stepan Arkadyevitch, who was in +high good humor, sent Darya Alexandrovna a telegram: "Nevyedovsky +elected by twenty votes. Congratulations. Tell people." He +dictated it aloud, saying: "We must let them share our +rejoicing." Darya Alexandrovna, getting the message, simply +sighed over the rouble wasted on it, and understood that it was +an after-dinner affair. She knew Stiva had a weakness after +dining for _faire jouer le telegraphe._ + +Everything, together with the excellent dinner and the wine, not +from Russian merchants, but imported direct from abroad, was +extremely dignified, simple, and enjoyable. The party--some +twenty--had been selected by Sviazhsky from among the more active +new liberals, all of the same way of thinking, who were at the +same time clever and well bred. They drank, also half in jest, +to the health of the new marshal of the province, of the +governor, of the bank director, and of "our amiable host." + +Vronsky was satisfied. He had never expected to find so pleasant +a tone in the provinces. + +Towards the end of dinner it was still more lively. The governor +asked Vronsky to come to a concert for the benefit of the +Servians which his wife, who was anxious to make his +acquaintance, had been getting up. + +"There'll be a ball, and you'll see the belle of the province. +Worth seeing, really." + +"Not in my line," Vronsky answered. He liked that English +phrase. But he smiled, and promised to come. + +Before they rose from the table, when all of them were smoking, +Vronsky's valet went up to him with a letter on a tray. + +"From Vozdvizhenskoe by special messenger," he said with a +significant expression. + +"Astonishing! how like he is to the deputy prosecutor +Sventitsky," said one of the guests in French of the valet, while +Vronsky, frowning, read the letter. + +The letter was from Anna. Before he read the letter, he knew its +contents. Expecting the elections to be over in five days, he +had promised to be back on Friday. Today was Saturday, and he +knew that the letter contained reproaches for not being back at +the time fixed. The letter he had sent the previous evening had +probably not reached her yet. + +The letter was what he had expected, but the form of it was +unexpected, and particularly disagreeable to him. "Annie is very +ill, the doctor says it may be inflammation. I am losing my +head all alone. Princess Varvara is no help, but a hindrance. I +expected you the day before yesterday, and yesterday, and now I +am sending to find out where you are and what you are doing. I +wanted to come myself, but thought better of it, knowing you +would dislike it. Send some answer, that I may know what to +do." + +The child ill, yet she had thought of coming herself. Their +daughter ill, and this hostile tone. + +The innocent festivities over the election, and this gloomy, +burdensome love to which he had to return struck Vronsky by their +contrast. But he had to go, and by the first train that night he +set off home. + + + +Chapter 32 + + +Before Vronsky's departure for the elections, Anna had reflected +that the scenes constantly repeated between them each time he +left home, might only make him cold to her instead of attaching +him to her, and resolved to do all she could to control herself +so as to bear the parting with composure. But the cold, severe +glance with which he had looked at her when he came to tell her +he was going had wounded her, and before he had started her peace +of mind was destroyed. + +In solitude afterwards, thinking over that glance which had +expressed his right to freedom, she came, as she always did, to +the same point--the sense of her own humiliation. "He has the +right to go away when and where he chooses. Not simply to go +away, but to leave me. He has every right, and I have none. +But knowing that, he ought not to do it. What has he done, +though?... He looked at me with a cold, severe expression. Of +course that is something indefinable, impalpable, but it has +never been so before, and that glance means a great deal," she +thought. "That glance shows the beginning of indifference." + +And though she felt sure that a coldness was beginning, there was +nothing she could do, she could not in any way alter her +relations to him. Just as before, only by love and by charm +could she keep him. And so, just as before, only by occupation +in the day, by morphine at night, could she stifle the fearful +thought of what would be if he ceased to love her. It is true +there was still one means; not to keep him--for that she wanted +nothing more than his love--but to be nearer to him, to be in +such a position that he would not leave her. That means was +divorce and marriage. And she began to long for that, and made +up her mind to agree to it the first time he or Stiva approached +her on the subject. + +Absorbed in such thoughts, she passed five days without him, the +five days that he was to be at the elections. + +Walks, conversation with Princess Varvara, visits to the +hospital, and, most of all, reading--reading of one book after +another--filled up her time. But on the sixth day, when the +coachman came back without him, she felt that now she was utterly +incapable of stifling the thought of him and of what he was doing +there, just at that time her little girl was taken ill. Anna +began to look after her, but even that did not distract her mind, +especially as the illness was not serious. However hard she +tried, she could not love this little child, and to feign love +was beyond her powers. Towards the evening of that day, still +alone, Anna was in such a panic about him that she decided to +start for the town, but on second thoughts wrote him the +contradictory letter that Vronsky received, and without reading +it through, sent it off by a special messenger. The next morning +she received his letter and regretted her own. She dreaded a +repetition of the severe look he had flung at her at parting, +especially when he knew that the baby was not dangerously ill. +But still she was glad she had written to him. At this moment +Anna was positively admitting to herself that she was a burden to +him, that he would relinquish his freedom regretfully to return +to her, and in spite of that she was glad he was coming. Let him +weary of her, but he would be here with her, so that she would +see him, would know of every action he took. + +She was sitting in the drawing room near a lamp, with a new +volume of Taine, and as she read, listening to the sound of the +wind outside, and every minute expecting the carriage to arrive. +Several times she had fancied she heard the sound of wheels, but +she had been mistaken. At last she heard not the sound of +wheels, but the coachman's shout and the dull rumble in the +covered entry. Even Princess Varvara, playing patience, +confirmed this, and Anna, flushing hotly, got up; but instead of +going down, as she had done twice before, she stood still. She +suddenly felt ashamed of her duplicity, but even more she dreaded +how he might meet her. All feeling of wounded pride had passed +now; she was only afraid of the expression of his displeasure. +She remembered that her child had been perfectly well again for +the last two days. She felt positively vexed with her for +getting better from the very moment her letter was sent off. +Then she thought of him, that he was here, all of him, with his +hands, his eyes. She heard his voice. And forgetting +everything, she ran joyfully to meet him. + +"Well, how is Annie?" he said timidly from below, looking up to +Anna as she ran down to him. + +He was sitting on a chair, and a footman was pulling off his warm +over-boot. + +"Oh, she is better." + +"And you?" he said, shaking himself. + +She took his hand in both of hers, and drew it to her waist, +never taking her eyes off him. + +"Well, I'm glad," he said, coldly scanning her, her hair, her +dress, which he knew she had put on for him. All was charming, +but how many times it had charmed him! And the stern, stony +expression that she so dreaded settled upon his face. + +"Well, I'm glad. And are you well?" he said, wiping his damp +beard with his handkerchief and kissing her hand. + +"Never mind," she thought, "only let him be here, and so long as +he's here he cannot, he dare not, cease to love me." + +The evening was spent happily and gaily in the presence of +Princess Varvara, who complained to him that Anna had been taking +morphine in his absence. + +"What am I to do? I couldn't sleep.... My thoughts prevented +me. When he's here I never take it--hardly ever." + +He told her about the election, and Anna knew how by adroit +questions to bring him to what gave him most pleasure--his own +success. She told him of everything that interested him at home; +and all that she told him was of the most cheerful description. + +But late in the evening, when they were alone, Anna, seeing that +she had regained complete possession of him, wanted to erase the +painful impression of the glance he had given her for her letter. +She said: + +"Tell me frankly, you were vexed at getting my letter, and you +didn't believe me?" + +As soon as she had said it, she felt that however warm his +feelings were to her, he had not forgiven her for that. + +"Yes," he said, "the letter was so strange. First, Annie ill, +and then you thought of coming yourself." + +"It was all the truth." + +"Oh, I don't doubt it." + +"Yes, you do doubt it. You are vexed, I see." + +"Not for one moment. I'm only vexed, that's true, that you seem +somehow unwilling to admit that there are duties..." + +"The duty of going to a concert..." + +"But we won't talk about it," he said. + +"Why not talk about it?" she said. + +"I only meant to say that matters of real importance may turn up. +Now, for instance, I shall have to go to Moscow to arrange about +the house.... Oh, Anna, why are you so irritable? Don't you +know that I can't live without you?" + +"If so," said Anna, her voice suddenly changing, "it means that +you are sick of this life.... Yes, you will come for a day and +go away, as men do..." + +"Anna, that's cruel. I am ready to give up my whole life." + +But she did not hear him. + +"If you go to Moscow, I will go too. I will not stay here. +Either we must separate or else live together." + +"Why, you know, that's my one desire. But for that..." + +"We must get a divorce. I will write to him. I see I cannot go +on like this.... But I will come with you to Moscow." + +"You talk as if you were threatening me. But I desire nothing +so much as never to be parted from you," said Vronsky, smiling. + +But as he said these words there gleamed in his eyes not merely a +cold look, but the vindictive look of a man persecuted and made +cruel. + +She saw the look and correctly divined its meaning. + +"If so, it's a calamity!" that glance told her. It was a +moment's impression, but she never forgot it. + +Anna wrote to her husband asking him about a divorce, and towards +the end of November, taking leave of Princess Varvara, who wanted +to go to Petersburg, she went with Vronsky to Moscow. Expecting +every day an answer from Alexey Alexandrovitch, and after that +the divorce, they now established themselves together like +married people. + + + + + +PART 7 + + + +Chapter 1 + + +The Levins had been three months in Moscow. The date had long +passed on which, according to the most trustworthy calculations +of people learned in such matters, Kitty should have been +confined. But she was still about, and there was nothing to show +that her time was any nearer than two months ago. The doctor, +the monthly nurse, and Dolly and her mother, and most of all +Levin, who could not think of the approaching event without +terror, began to be impatient and uneasy. Kitty was the only +person who felt perfectly calm and happy. + +She was distinctly conscious now of the birth of a new feeling of +love for the future child, for her to some extent actually +existing already, and she brooded blissfully over this feeling. +He was not by now altogether a part of herself, but sometimes +lived his own life independently of her. Often this separate +being gave her pain, but at the same time she wanted to laugh +with a strange new joy. + +All the people she loved were with her, and all were so good to +her, so attentively caring for her, so entirely pleasant was +everything presented to her, that if she had not known and felt +that it must all soon be over, she could not have wished for a +better and pleasanter life. The only thing that spoiled the +charm of this manner of life was that her husband was not here as +she loved him to be, and as he was in the country. + +She liked his serene, friendly, and hospitable manner in the +country. In the town he seemed continually uneasy and on his +guard, as though he were afraid someone would be rude to him, and +still more to her. At home in the country, knowing himself +distinctly to be in his right place, he was never in haste to be +off elsewhere. He was never unoccupied. Here in town he was in +a continual hurry, as though afraid of missing something, and yet +he had nothing to do. And she felt sorry for him. To others, +she knew, he did not appear an object of pity. On the contrary, +when Kitty looked at him in society, as one sometimes looks at +those one loves, trying to see him as if he were a stranger, so +as to catch the impression he must make on others, she saw with a +panic even of jealous fear that he was far indeed from being a +pitiable figure, that he was very attractive with his fine +breeding, his rather old-fashioned, reserved courtesy with women, +his powerful figure, and striking, as she thought, and expressive +face. But she saw him not from without, but from within; she saw +that here he was not himself; that was the only way she could +define his condition to herself. Sometimes she inwardly +reproached him for his inability to live in the town; sometimes +she recognized that it was really hard for him to order his life +here so that he could be satisfied with it. + +What had he to do, indeed? He did not care for cards; he did not +go to a club. Spending the time with jovial gentlemen of +Oblonsky's type--she knew now what that meant...it meant drinking +and going somewhere after drinking. She could not think without +horror of where men went on such occasions. Was he to go into +society? But she knew he could only find satisfaction in that if +he took pleasure in the society of young women, and that she +could not wish for. Should he stay at home with her, her mother +and her sisters? But much as she liked and enjoyed their +conversations forever on the same subjects--"Aline-Nadine," as +the old prince called the sisters' talks--she knew it must bore +him. What was there left for him to do? To go on writing at his +book he had indeed attempted, and at first he used to go to the +library and make extracts and look up references for his book. +But, as he told her, the more he did nothing, the less time he +had to do anything. And besides, he complained that he had +talked too much about his book here, and that consequently all +his ideas about it were muddled and had lost their interest for +him. + +One advantage in this town life was that quarrels hardly ever +happened between them here in town. Whether it was that their +conditions were different, or that they had both become more +careful and sensible in that respect, they had no quarrels in +Moscow from jealousy, which they had so dreaded when they moved +from the country. + +One event, an event of great importance to both from that point +of view, did indeed happen--that was Kitty's meeting with +Vronsky. + +The old Princess Marya Borissovna, Kitty's godmother, who had +always been very fond of her, had insisted on seeing her. Kitty, +though she did not go into society at all on account of her +condition, went with her father to see the venerable old lady, +and there met Vronsky. + +The only thing Kitty could reproach herself for at this meeting +was that at the instant when she recognized in his civilian dress +the features once so familiar to her, her breath failed her, the +blood rushed to her heart, and a vivid blush--she felt it-- +overspread her face. But this lasted only a few seconds. Before +her father, who purposely began talking in a loud voice to +Vronsky, had finished, she was perfectly ready to look at +Vronsky, to speak to him, if necessary, exactly as she spoke to +Princess Marya Borissovna, and more than that, to do so in such a +way that everything to the faintest intonation and smile would +have been approved by her husband, whose unseen presence she +seemed to feel about her at that instant. + +She said a few words to him, even smiled serenely at his joke +about the elections, which he called "our parliament." (She had +to smile to show she saw the joke.) But she turned away +immediately to Princess Marya Borissovna, and did not once glance +at him till he got up to go; then she looked at him, but +evidently only because it would be uncivil not to look at a man +when he is saying good-bye. + +She was grateful to her father for saying nothing to her about +their meeting Vronsky, but she saw by his special warmth to her +after the visit during their usual walk that he was pleased with +her. She was pleased with herself. She had not expected she +would have had the power, while keeping somewhere in the bottom +of her heart all the memories of her old feeling for Vronsky, not +only to seem but to be perfectly indifferent and composed with +him. + +Levin flushed a great deal more than she when she told him she +had met Vronsky at Princess Marya Borissovna's. It was very hard +for her to tell him this, but still harder to go on speaking of +the details of the meeting, as he did not question her, but +simply gazed at her with a frown. + +"I am very sorry you weren't there," she said. "Not that you +weren't in the room...I couldn't have been so natural in your +presence...I am blushing now much more, much, much more," she +said, blushing till the tears came into her eyes. "But that you +couldn't see through a crack." + +The truthful eyes told Levin that she was satisfied with herself, +and in spite of her blushing he was quickly reassured and began +questioning her, which was all she wanted. When he had heard +everything, even to the detail that for the first second she +could not help flushing, but that afterwards she was just as +direct and as much at her ease as with any chance acquaintance, +Levin was quite happy again and said he was glad of it, and would +not now behave as stupidly as he had done at the election, but +would try the first time he met Vronsky to be as friendly as +possible. + +"It's so wretched to feel that there's a man almost an enemy whom +it's painful to meet," said Levin. "I'm very, very glad." + + + +Chapter 2 + + +"Go, please, go then and call on the Bols," Kitty said to her +husband, when he came in to see her at eleven o'clock before +going out. "I know you are dining at the club; papa put down +your name. But what are you going to do in the morning?" + +"I am only going to Katavasov," answered Levin. + +"Why so early?" + +"He promised to introduce me to Metrov. I wanted to talk to him +about my work. He's a distinguished scientific man from +Petersburg," said Levin. + +"Yes; wasn't it his article you were praising so? Well, and +after that?" said Kitty. + +"I shall go to the court, perhaps, about my sister's business." + +"And the concert?" she queried. + +"I shan't go there all alone." + +"No? do go; there are going to be some new things.... That +interested you so. I should certainly go." + +"Well, anyway, I shall come home before dinner," he said, looking +at his watch. + +"Put on your frock coat, so that you can go straight to call on +Countess Bola." + +"But is it absolutely necessary?" + +"Oh, absolutely! He has been to see us. Come, what is it? You +go in, sit down, talk for five minutes of the weather, get up and +go away." + +"Oh, you wouldn't believe it! I've got so out of the way of all +this that it makes me feel positively ashamed. It's such a +horrible thing to do! A complete outsider walks in, sits down, +stays on with nothing to do, wastes their time and worries +himself, and walks away!" + +Kitty laughed. + +"Why, I suppose you used to pay calls before you were married, +didn't you?" + +"Yes, I did, but I always felt ashamed, and now I'm so out of the +way of it that, by Jove! I'd sooner go two days running without +my dinner than pay this call! One's so ashamed! I feel all the +while that they're annoyed, that they're saying, 'What has he +come for?'" + +"No, they won't. I'll answer for that," said Kitty, looking into +his face with a laugh. She took his hand. "Well, good-bye.... +Do go, please." + +He was just going out after kissing his wife's hand, when she +stopped him. + +"Kostya, do you know I've only fifty roubles left?" + +"Oh, all right, I'll go to the bank and get some. How much?" he +said, with the expression of dissatisfaction she knew so well. + +"No, wait a minute." She held his hand. "Let's talk about it, +it worries me. I seem to spend nothing unnecessary, but money +seems to fly away simply. We don't manage well, somehow." + +"Oh, it's all right," he said with a little cough, looking at her +from under his brows. + +That cough she knew well. It was a sign of intense +dissatisfaction, not with her, but with himself. He certainly +was displeased not at so much money being spent, but at being +reminded of what he, knowing something was unsatisfactory, wanted +to forget. + +"I have told Sokolov to sell the wheat, and to borrow an advance +on the mill. We shall have money enough in any case." + +"Yes, but I'm afraid that altogether..." + +"Oh, it's all right, all right," he repeated. "Well, good-bye, +darling." + +"No, I'm really sorry sometimes that I listened to mamma. How +nice it would have been in the country! As it is, I'm worrying +you all, and we're wasting our money." + +"Not at all, not at all. Not once since I've been married have +I said that things could have been better than they are...." + +"Truly?" she said, looking into his eyes. + +He had said it without thinking, simply to console her. But when +he glanced at her and saw those sweet truthful eyes fastened +questioningly on him, he repeated it with his whole heart. "I +was positively forgetting her," he thought. And he remembered +what was before them, so soon to come. + +"Will it be soon? How do you feel?" he whispered, taking her two +hands. + +"I have so often thought so, that now I don't think about it or +know anything about it." + +"And you're not frightened?" + +She smiled contemptuously. + +"Not the least little bit," she said. + +"Well, if anything happens, I shall be at Katavasov's." + +"No, nothing will happen, and don't think about it. I'm going +for a walk on the boulevard with papa. We're going to see Dolly. +I shall expect you before dinner. Oh, yes! Do you know that +Dolly's position is becoming utterly impossible? She's in debt +all round; she hasn't a penny. We were talking yesterday with +mamma and Arseny" (this was her sister's husband Lvov), "and we +determined to send you with him to talk to Stiva. It's really +unbearable. One can't speak to papa about it.... But if you and +he..." + +"Why, what can we do?" said Levin. + +"You'll be at Arseny's, anyway; talk to him, he will tell what we +decided." + +"Oh, I agree to everything Arseny thinks beforehand. I'll go and +see him. By the way, if I do go to the concert, I'll go with +Natalia. Well, good-bye." + +On the steps Levin was stopped by his old servant Kouzma, who had +been with him before his marriage, and now looked after their +household in town. + +"Beauty" (that was the left shaft-horse brought up from the +country) "has been badly shod and is quite lame," he said. "What +does your honor wish to be done?" + +During the first part of their stay in Moscow, Levin had used his +own horses brought up from the country. He had tried to arrange +this part of their expenses in the best and cheapest way +possible; but it appeared that their own horses came dearer than +hired horses, and they still hired too. + +"Send for the veterinary, there may be a bruise." + +"And for Katerina Alexandrovna?" asked Kouzma. + +Levin was not by now struck as he had been at first by the fact +that to get from one end of Moscow to the other he had to have +two powerful horses put into a heavy carriage, to take the +carriage three miles through the snowy slush and to keep it +standing there four hours, paying five roubles every time. + +Now it seemed quite natural. + +"Hire a pair for our carriage from the jobmaster," said he. + +"Yes, sir." + +And so, simply and easily, thanks to the facilities of town life, +Levin settled a question which, in the country, would have called +for so much personal trouble and exertion, and going out onto the +steps, he called a sledge, sat down, and drove to Nikitsky. On +the way he thought no more of money, but mused on the +introduction that awaited him to the Petersburg savant, a writer +on sociology, and what he would say to him about his book. + +Only during the first days of his stay in Moscow Levin had been +struck by the expenditure, strange to one living in the country, +unproductive but inevitable, that was expected of him on every +side. But by now he had grown used to it. That had happened to +him in this matter which is said to happen to drunkards--the +first glass sticks in the throat, the second flies down like a +hawk, but after the third they're like tiny little birds. When +Levin had changed his first hundred-rouble note to pay for +liveries for his footmen and hall-porter he could not help +reflecting that these liveries were of no use to anyone--but +they were indubitably necessary, to judge by the amazement of the +princess and Kitty when he suggested that they might do without +liveries,--that these liveries would cost the wages of two +laborers for the summer, that is, would pay for about three +hundred working days from Easter to Ash Wednesday, and each a day +of hard work from early morning to late evening--and that +hundred-rouble note did stick in his throat. But the next note, +changed to pay for providing a dinner for their relations, that +cost twenty-eight roubles, though it did excite in Levin the +reflection that twenty-eight roubles meant nine measures of oats, +which men would with groans and sweat have reaped and bound and +thrashed and winnowed and sifted and sown,--this next one he +parted with more easily. And now the notes he changed no longer +aroused such reflections, and they flew off like little birds. +Whether the labor devoted to obtaining the money corresponded to +the pleasure given by what was bought with it, was a +consideration he had long ago dismissed. His business +calculation that there was a certain price below which he could +not sell certain grain was forgotten too. The rye, for the price +of which he had so long held out, had been sold for fifty kopecks +a measure cheaper than it had been fetching a month ago. Even +the consideration that with such an expenditure he could not go +on living for a year without debt, that even had no force. Only +one thing was essential: to have money in the bank, without +inquiring where it came from, so as to know that one had the +wherewithal to buy meat for tomorrow. And this condition had +hitherto been fulfilled; he had always had the money in the bank. +But now the money in the bank had gone, and he could not quite +tell where to get the next installment. And this it was which, +at the moment when Kitty had mentioned money, had disturbed him; +but he had no time to think about it. He drove off, thinking of +Katavasov and the meeting with Metrov that was before him. + + + +Chapter 3 + + +Levin had on this visit to town seen a great deal of his old +friend at the university, Professor Katavasov, whom he had not +seen since his marriage. He liked in Katavasov the clearness and +simplicity of his conception of life. Levin thought that the +clearness of Katavasov's conception of life was due to the +poverty of his nature; Katavasov thought that the +disconnectedness of Levin's ideas was due to his lack of +intellectual discipline; but Levin enjoyed Katavasov's clearness, +and Katavasov enjoyed the abundance of Levin's untrained ideas, +and they liked to meet and to discuss. + +Levin had read Katavasov some parts of his book, and he had liked +them. On the previous day Katavasov had met Levin at a public +lecture and told him that the celebrated Metrov, whose article +Levin had so much liked, was in Moscow, that he had been much +interested by what Katavasov had told him about Levin's work, and +that he was coming to see him tomorrow at eleven, and would be +very glad to make Levin's acquaintance. + +"You're positively a reformed character, I'm glad to see," said +Katavasov, meeting Levin in the little drawing room. "I heard +the bell and thought: Impossible that it can be he at the exact +time!... Well, what do you say to the Montenegrins now? They're +a race of warriors." + +"Why, what's happened?" asked Levin. + +Katavasov in a few words told him the last piece of news from the +war, and going into his study, introduced Levin to a short, +thick-set man of pleasant appearance. This was Metrov. The +conversation touched for a brief space on politics and on how +recent events were looked at in the higher spheres in Petersburg. +Metrov repeated a saying that had reached him through a most +trustworthy source, reported as having been uttered on this +subject by the Tsar and one of the ministers. Katavasov had +heard also on excellent authority that the Tsar had said +something quite different. Levin tried to imagine circumstances +in which both sayings might have been uttered, and the +conversation on that topic dropped. + +"Yes, here he's written almost a book on the natural conditions +of the laborer in relation to the land," said Katavasov; "I'm not +a specialist, but I, as a natural science man, was pleased at +his not taking mankind as something outside biological laws; but, +on the contrary, seeing his dependence on his surroundings, and +in that dependence seeking the laws of his development." + +"That's very interesting," said Metrov. + +"What I began precisely was to write a book on agriculture; but +studying the chief instrument of agriculture, the laborer," said +Levin, reddening, "I could not help coming to quite unexpected +results." + +And Levin began carefully, as it were, feeling his ground, to +expound his views. He knew Metrov had written an article against +the generally accepted theory of political economy, but to what +extent he could reckon on his sympathy with his own new views he +did not know and could not guess from the clever and serene face +of the learned man. + +"But in what do you see the special characteristics of the +Russian laborer?" said Metrov; "in his biological +characteristics, so to speak, or in the condition in which he is +placed?" + +Levin saw that there was an idea underlying this question with +which he did not agree. But he went on explaining his own idea +that the Russian laborer has a quite special view of the land, +different from that of other people; and to support this +proposition he made haste to add that in his opinion this +attitude of the Russian peasant was due to the consciousness of +his vocation to people vast unoccupied expanses in the East. + +"One may easily be led into error in basing any conclusion on the +general vocation of a people," said Metrov, interrupting Levin. +"The condition of the laborer will always depend on his relation +to the land and to capital." + +And without letting Levin finish explaining his idea, Metrov +began expounding to him the special point of his own theory. + +In what the point of his theory lay, Levin did not understand, +because he did not take the trouble to understand. He saw that +Metrov, like other people, in spite of his own article, in which +he had attacked the current theory of political economy, looked +at the position of the Russian peasant simply from the point of +view of capital, wages, and rent. He would indeed have been +obliged to admit that in the eastern--much the larger--part of +Russia rent was as yet nil, that for nine-tenths of the eighty +millions of the Russian peasants wages took the form simply of +food provided for themselves, and that capital does not so far +exist except in the form of the most primitive tools. Yet it was +only from that point of view that he considered every laborer, +though in many points he differed from the economists and had his +own theory of the wage-fund, which he expounded to Levin. + +Levin listened reluctantly, and at first made objections. He +would have liked to interrupt Metrov, to explain his own thought, +which in his opinion would have rendered further exposition of +Metrov's theories superfluous. But later on, feeling convinced +that they looked at the matter so differently, that they could +never understand one another, he did not even oppose his +statements, but simply listened. Although what Metrov was saying +was by now utterly devoid of interest for him, he yet experienced +a certain satisfaction in listening to him. It flattered his +vanity that such a learned man should explain his ideas to him so +eagerly, with such intensity and confidence in Levin's +understanding of the subject, sometimes with a mere hint +referring him to a whole aspect of the subject. He put this down +to his own credit, unaware that Metrov, who had already discussed +his theory over and over again with all his intimate friends, +talked of it with special eagerness to every new person, and in +general was eager to talk to anyone of any subject that +interested him, even if still obscure to himself. + +"We are late though," said Katavasov, looking at his watch +directly Metrov had finished his discourse. + +"Yes, there's a meeting of the Society of Amateurs today in +commemoration of the jubilee of Svintitch," said Katavasov in +answer to Levin's inquiry. "Pyotr Ivanovitch and I were going. +I've promised to deliver an address on his labors in zoology. +Come along with us, it's very interesting." + +"Yes, and indeed it's time to start," said Metrov. "Come with +us, and from there, if you care to, come to my place. I should +very much like to hear your work." + +"Oh, no! It's no good yet, it's unfinished. But I shall be very +glad to go to the meeting." + +"I say, friends, have you heard? He has handed in the separate +report," Katavasov called from the other room, where he was +putting on his frock coat. + +And a conversation sprang up upon the university question, which +was a very important event that winter in Moscow. Three old +professors in the council had not accepted the opinion of the +younger professors. The young ones had registered a separate +resolution. This, in the judgment of some people, was monstrous, +in the judgment of others it was the simplest and most just thing +to do, and the professors were split up into two parties. + +One party, to which Katavasov belonged, saw in the opposite party +a scoundrelly betrayal and treachery, while the opposite party +saw in them childishness and lack of respect for the authorities. +Levin, though he did not belong to the university, had several +times already during his stay in Moscow heard and talked about +this matter, and had his own opinion on the subject. He took +part in the conversation that was continued in the street, as +they all three walked to the buildings of the old university. + +The meeting had already begun. Round the cloth-covered table, at +which Katavasov and Metrov seated themselves, there were some +half-dozen persons, and one of these was bending close over a +manuscript, reading something aloud. Levin sat down in one of +the empty chairs that were standing round the table, and in a +whisper asked a student sitting near what was being read. The +student, eyeing Levin with displeasure, said: + +"Biography." + +Though Levin was not interested in the biography, he could not +help listening, and learned some new and interesting facts about +the life of the distinguished man of science. + +When the reader had finished, the chairman thanked him and read +some verses of the poet Ment sent him on the jubilee, and said a +few words by way of thanks to the poet. Then Katavasov in his +loud, ringing voice read his address on the scientific labors of +the man whose jubilee was being kept. + +When Katavasov had finished, Levin looked at his watch, saw it +was past one, and thought that there would not be time before the +concert to read Metrov his book, and indeed, he did not now care +to do so. During the reading he had thought over their +conversation. He saw distinctly now that though Metrov's ideas +might perhaps have value, his own ideas had a value too, and +their ideas could only be made clear and lead to something if +each worked separately in his chosen path, and that nothing would +be gained by putting their ideas together. And having made up +his mind to refuse Metrov's invitation, Levin went up to him at +the end of the meeting. Metrov introduced Levin to the chairman, +with whom he was talking of the political news. Metrov told the +chairman what he had already told Levin, and Levin made the same +remarks on his news that he had already made that morning, but +for the sake of variety he expressed also a new opinion which had +only just struck him. After that the conversation turned again +on the university question. As Levin had already heard it all, +he made haste to tell Metrov that he was sorry he could not take +advantage of his invitation, took leave, and drove to Lvov's. + + + +Chapter 4 + + +Lvov, the husband of Natalia, Kitty's sister, had spent all his +life in foreign capitals, where he had been educated, and had +been in the diplomatic service. + +During the previous year he had left the diplomatic service, not +owing to any "unpleasantness" (he never had any "unpleasantness" +with anyone), and was transferred to the department of the court +of the palace in Moscow, in order to give his two boys the best +education possible. + +In spite of the striking contrast in their habits and views and +the fact that Lvov was older than Levin, they had seen a great +deal of one another that winter, and had taken a great liking to +each other. + +Lvov was at home, and Levin went in to him unannounced. + +Lvov, in a house coat with a belt and in chamois leather shoes, +was sitting in an armchair, and with a pince-nez with blue +glasses he was reading a book that stood on a reading desk, while +in his beautiful hand he held a half-burned cigarette daintily +away from him. + +His handsome, delicate, and still youthful-looking face, to which +his curly, glistening silvery hair gave a still more aristocratic +air, lighted up with a smile when he saw Levin. + +"Capital! I was meaning to send to you. How's Kitty? Sit here, +it's more comfortable." He got up and pushed up a rocking chair. +"Have you read the last circular in the _Journal de St. +Petersbourg?_ I think it's excellent," he said, with a slight +French accent. + +Levin told him what he had heard from Katavasov was being said in +Petersburg, and after talking a little about politics, he told +him of his interview with Metrov, and the learned society's +meeting. To Lvov it was very interesting. + +"That's what I envy you, that you are able to mix in these +interesting scientific circles," he said. And as he talked, he +passed as usual into French, which was easier to him. "It's true +I haven't the time for it. My official work and the children +leave me no time; and then I'm not ashamed to own that my +education has been too defective." + +"That I don't believe," said Levin with a smile, feeling, as he +always did, touched at Lvov's low opinion of himself, which was +not in the least put on from a desire to seem or to be modest, +but was absolutely sincere. + +"Oh, yes, indeed! I feel now how badly educated I am. To +educate my children I positively have to look up a great deal, +and in fact simply to study myself. For it's not enough to have +teachers, there must be someone to look after them, just as on +your land you want laborers and an overseer. See what I'm +reading"--he pointed to Buslaev's _Grammar_ on the desk--"it's +expected of Misha, and it's so difficult.... Come, explain to +me.... Here he says..." + +Levin tried to explain to him that it couldn't be understood, but +that it had to be taught; but Lvov would not agree with him. + +"Oh, you're laughing at it!" + +"On the contrary, you can't imagine how, when I look at you, I'm +always learning the task that lies before me, that is the +education of one's children." + +"Well, there's nothing for you to learn," said Lvov. + +"All I know," said Levin, "is that I have never seen better +brought-up children than yours, and I wouldn't wish for children +better than yours." + +Lvov visibly tried to restrain the expression of his delight, but +he was positively radiant with smiles. + +"If only they're better than I! That's all I desire. You don't +know yet all the work," he said, "with boys who've been left like +mine to run wild abroad." + +"You'll catch all that up. They're such clever children. The +great thing is the education of character. That's what I learn +when I look at your children." + +"You talk of the education of character. You can't imagine how +difficult that is! You have hardly succeeded in combating one +tendency when others crop up, and the struggle begins again. If +one had not a support in religion--you remember we talked about +that--no father could bring children up relying on his own +strength alone without that help." + +This subject, which always interested Levin, was cut short by the +entrance of the beauty Natalia Alexandrovna, dressed to go out. + +"I didn't know you were here," she said, unmistakably feeling no +regret, but a positive pleasure, in interrupting this +conversation on a topic she had heard so much of that she was by +now weary of it. "Well, how is Kitty? I am dining with you +today. I tell you what, Arseny," she turned to her husband, "you +take the carriage." + +And the husband and wife began to discuss their arrangements for +the day. As the husband had to drive to meet someone on official +business, while the wife had to go to the concert and some public +meeting of a committee on the Eastern Question, there was a great +deal to consider and settle. Levin had to take part in their +plans as one of themselves. It was settled that Levin should go +with Natalia to the concert and the meeting, and that from there +they should send the carriage to the office for Arseny, and he +should call for her and take her to Kitty's; or that, if he had +not finished his work, he should send the carriage back and Levin +would go with her. + +"He's spoiling me," Lvov said to his wife; "he assures me that +our children are splendid, when I know how much that's bad there +is in them." + +"Arseny goes to extremes, I always say," said his wife. "If you +look for perfection, you will never be satisfied. And it's true, +as papa says,--that when we were brought up there was one +extreme--we were kept in the basement, while our parents lived in +the best rooms; now it's just the other way--the parents are in +the wash house, while the children are in the best rooms. +Parents now are not expected to live at all, but to exist +altogether for their children." + +"Well, what if they like it better?" Lvov said, with his +beautiful smile, touching her hand. "Anyone who didn't know you +would think you were a stepmother, not a true mother." + +"No, extremes are not good in anything," Natalia said serenely, +putting his paper knife straight in its proper place on the +table. + +"Well, come here, you perfect children," Lvov said to the two +handsome boys who came in, and after bowing to Levin, went up to +their father, obviously wishing to ask him about something. + +Levin would have liked to talk to them, to hear what they would +say to their father, but Natalia began talking to him, and then +Lvov's colleague in the service, Mahotin, walked in, wearing his +court uniform, to go with him to meet someone, and a conversation +was kept up without a break upon Herzegovina, Princess +Korzinskaya, the town council, and the sudden death of Madame +Apraksina. + +Levin even forgot the commission intrusted to him. He +recollected it as he was going into the hall. + +"Oh, Kitty told me to talk to you about Oblonsky," he said, as +Lvov was standing on the stairs, seeing his wife and Levin off. + +"Yes, yes, maman wants us, _les beaux-freres,_ to attack him," +he said, blushing. "But why should I?" + +"Well, then, I will attack him," said Madame Lvova, with a smile, +standing in her white sheepskin cape, waiting till they had +finished speaking. "Come, let us go." + + + +Chapter 5 + + +At the concert in the afternoon two very interesting things were +performed. One was a fantasia, _King Lear;_ the other was a +quartette dedicated to the memory of Bach. Both were new and in +the new style, and Levin was eager to form an opinion of them. +After escorting his sister-in-law to her stall, he stood against +a column and tried to listen as attentively and conscientiously +as possible. He tried not to let his attention be distracted, +and not to spoil his impression by looking at the conductor in a +white tie, waving his arms, which always disturbed his enjoyment +of music so much, or the ladies in bonnets, with strings +carefully tied over their ears, and all these people either +thinking of nothing at all or thinking of all sorts of things +except the music. He tried to avoid meeting musical connoisseurs +or talkative acquaintances, and stood looking at the floor +straight before him, listening. + +But the more he listened to the fantasia of King Lear the further +he felt from forming any definite opinion of it. There was, as +it were, a continual beginning, a preparation of the musical +expression of some feeling, but it fell to pieces again directly, +breaking into new musical motives, or simply nothing but the +whims of the composer, exceedingly complex but disconnected +sounds. And these fragmentary musical expressions, though +sometimes beautiful, were disagreeable, because they were utterly +unexpected and not led up to by anything. Gaiety and grief and +despair and tenderness and triumph followed one another without +any connection, like the emotions of a madman. And those +emotions, like a madman's, sprang up quite unexpectedly. + +During the whole of the performance Levin felt like a deaf man +watching people dancing, and was in a state of complete +bewilderment when the fantasia was over, and felt a great +weariness from the fruitless strain on his attention. Loud +applause resounded on all sides. Everyone got up, moved about, +and began talking. Anxious to throw some light on his own +perplexity from the impressions of others, Levin began to walk +about, looking for connoisseurs, and was glad to see a well-known +musical amateur in conversation with Pestsov, whom he knew. + +"Marvelous!" Pestsov was saying in his mellow bass. "How are +you, Konstantin Dmitrievitch? Particularly sculpturesque and +plastic, so to say, and richly colored is that passage where you +feel Cordelia's approach, where woman, _das ewig Weibliche,_ +enters into conflict with fate. Isn't it?" + +"You mean...what has Cordelia to do with it?" Levin asked +timidly, forgetting that the fantasia was supposed to represent +King Lear. + +"Cordelia comes in...see here!" said Pestsov, tapping his finger +on the satiny surface of the program he held in his hand and +passing it to Levin. + +Only then Levin recollected the title of the fantasia, and made +haste to read in the Russian translation the lines from +Shakespeare that were printed on the back of the program. + +"You can't follow it without that," said Pestsov, addressing +Levin, as the person he had been speaking to had gone away, and +he had no one to talk to. + +In the _entr'acte_ Levin and Pestsov fell into an argument upon +the merits and defects of music of the Wagner school. Levin +maintained that the mistake of Wagner and all his followers lay +in their trying to take music into the sphere of another art, +just as poetry goes wrong when it tries to paint a face as the +art of painting ought to do, and as an instance of this mistake +he cited the sculptor who carved in marble certain poetic +phantasms flitting round the figure of the poet on the pedestal. +"These phantoms were so far from being phantoms that they were +positively clinging on the ladder," said Levin. The comparison +pleased him, but he could not remember whether he had not used +the same phrase before, and to Pestsov, too, and as he said it he +felt confused. + +Pestsov maintained that art is one, and that it can attain its +highest manifestations only by conjunction with all kinds of art. + +The second piece that was performed Levin could not hear. +Pestsov, who was standing beside him, was talking to him almost +all the time, condemning the music for its excessive affected +assumption of simplicity, and comparing it with the simplicity of +the Pre-Raphaelites in painting. As he went out Levin met many +more acquaintances, with whom he talked of politics, of music, +and of common acquaintances. Among others he met Count Bol, whom +he had utterly forgotten to call upon. + +"Well, go at once then," Madame Lvova said, when he told her; +"perhaps they'll not be at home, and then you can come to the +meeting to fetch me. You'll find me still there." + + + +Chapter 6 + + +"Perhaps they're not at home?" said Levin, as he went into the +hall of Countess Bola's house. + +"At home; please walk in," said the porter, resolutely removing +his overcoat. + +"How annoying!" thought Levin with a sigh, taking off one glove +and stroking his hat. "What did I come for? What have I to say +to them?" + +As he passed through the first drawing room Levin met in the +doorway Countess Bola, giving some order to a servant with a +care-worn and severe face. On seeing Levin she smiled, and asked +him to come into the little drawing room, where he heard voices. +In this room there were sitting in armchairs the two daughters of +the countess, and a Moscow colonel, whom Levin knew. Levin went +up, greeted them, and sat down beside the sofa with his hat on +his knees. + +"How is your wife? Have you been at the concert? We couldn't +go. Mamma had to be at the funeral service." + +"Yes, I heard.... What a sudden death!" said Levin. + +The countess came in, sat down on the sofa, and she too asked +after his wife and inquired about the concert. + +Levin answered, and repeated an inquiry about Madame Apraksina's +sudden death. + +"But she was always in weak health." + +"Were you at the opera yesterday?" + +"Yes, I was." + +"Lucca was very good." + +"Yes, very good," he said, and as it was utterly of no +consequence to him what they thought of him, he began repeating +what they had heard a hundred times about the characteristics of +the singer's talent. Countess Bola pretended to be listening. +Then, when he had said enough and paused, the colonel, who had +been silent till then, began to talk. The colonel too talked of +the opera, and about culture. At last, after speaking of the +proposed _folle journee_ at Turin's, the colonel laughed, got up +noisily, and went away. Levin too rose, but he saw by the face +of the countess that it was not yet time for him to go. He must +stay two minutes longer. He sat down. + +But as he was thinking all the while how stupid it was, he could +not find a subject for conversation, and sat silent. + +"You are not going to the public meeting? They say it will be +very interesting," began the countess. + +"No, I promised my belle-soeur to fetch her from it," said +Levin. + +A silence followed. The mother once more exchanged glances with +a daughter. + +"Well, now I think the time has come," thought Levin, and he got +up. The ladies shook hands with him, and begged him to say +_mille choses_ to his wife for them. + +The porter asked him, as he gave him his coat, "Where is your +honor staying?" and immediately wrote down his address in a big +handsomely bound book. + +"Of course I don't care, but still I feel ashamed and awfully +stupid," thought Levin, consoling himself with the reflection +that everyone does it. He drove to the public meeting, where he +was to find his sister-in-law, so as to drive home with her. + +At the public meeting of the committee there were a great many +people, and almost all the highest society. Levin was in time +for the report which, as everyone said, was very interesting. +When the reading of the report was over, people moved about, and +Levin met Sviazhsky, who invited him very pressingly to come that +evening to a meeting of the Society of Agriculture, where a +celebrated lecture was to be delivered, and Stepan Arkadyevitch, +who had only just come from the races, and many other +acquaintances; and Levin heard and uttered various criticisms on +the meeting, on the new fantasia, and on a public trial. But, +probably from the mental fatigue he was beginning to feel, he +made a blunder in speaking of the trial, and this blunder he +recalled several times with vexation. Speaking of the sentence +upon a foreigner who had been condemned in Russia, and of how +unfair it would be to punish him by exile abroad, Levin repeated +what he had heard the day before in conversation from an +acquaintance. + +"I think sending him abroad is much the same as punishing a carp +by putting it into the water," said Levin. Then he recollected +that this idea, which he had heard from an acquaintance and +uttered as his own, came from a fable of Krilov's, and that the +acquaintance had picked it up from a newspaper article. + +After driving home with his sister-in-law, and finding Kitty in +good spirits and quite well, Levin drove to the club. + + + +Chapter 7 + + +Levin reached the club just at the right time. Members and +visitors were driving up as he arrived. Levin had not been at +the club for a very long while--not since he lived in Moscow, +when he was leaving the university and going into society. He +remembered the club, the external details of its arrangement, but +he had completely forgotten the impression it had made on him in +old days. But as soon as, driving into the wide semicircular +court and getting out of the sledge, he mounted the steps, and +the hall porter, adorned with a crossway scarf, noiselessly +opened the door to him with a bow; as soon as he saw in the +porter's room the cloaks and galoshes of members who thought it +less trouble to take them off downstairs; as soon as he heard the +mysterious ringing bell that preceded him as he ascended the +easy, carpeted staircase, and saw the statue on the landing, and +the third porter at the top doors, a familiar figure grown older, +in the club livery, opening the door without haste or delay, and +scanning the visitors as they passed in--Levin felt the old +impression of the club come back in a rush, an impression of +repose, comfort, and propriety. + +"Your hat, please," the porter said to Levin, who forgot the club +rule to leave his hat in the porter's room. "Long time since +you've been. The prince put your name down yesterday. Prince +Stepan Arkadyevitch is not here yet." + +The porter did not only know Levin, but also all his ties and +relationships, and so immediately mentioned his intimate friends. + +Passing through the outer hall, divided up by screens, and the +room partitioned on the right, where a man sits at the fruit +buffet, Levin overtook an old man walking slowly in, and entered +the dining room full of noise and people. + +He walked along the tables, almost all full, and looked at the +visitors. He saw people of all sorts, old and young; some he +knew a little, some intimate friends. There was not a single +cross or worried-looking face. All seemed to have left their +cares and anxieties in the porter's room with their hats, and +were all deliberately getting ready to enjoy the material +blessings of life. Sviazhsky was here and Shtcherbatsky, +Nevyedovsky and the old prince, and Vronsky and Sergey +Ivanovitch. + +"Ah! why are you late?" the prince said smiling, and giving him +his hand over his own shoulder. "How's Kitty?" he added, +smoothing out the napkin he had tucked in at his waistcoat +buttons. + +"All right; they are dining at home, all the three of them." + +"Ah, 'Aline-Nadine,' to be sure! There's no room with us. Go to +that table, and make haste and take a seat," said the prince, and +turning away he carefully took a plate of eel soup. + +"Levin, this way!" a good-natured voice shouted a little farther +on. It was Turovtsin. He was sitting with a young officer, and +beside them were two chairs turned upside down. Levin gladly +went up to them. He had always liked the good-hearted rake, +Turovtsin--he was associated in his mind with memories of his +courtship--and at that moment, after the strain of intellectual +conversation, the sight of Turovtsin's good-natured face was +particularly welcome. + +"For you and Oblonsky. He'll be here directly." + +The young man, holding himself very erect, with eyes forever +twinkling with enjoyment, was an officer from Petersburg, Gagin. +Turovtsin introduced them. + +"Oblonsky's always late." + +"Ah, here he is!" + +"Have you only just come?" said Oblonsky, coming quickly towards +them. "Good day. Had some vodka? Well, come along then." + +Levin got up and went with him to the big table spread with +spirits and appetizers of the most various kinds. One would have +thought that out of two dozen delicacies one might find something +to one's taste, but Stepan Arkadyevitch asked for something +special, and one of the liveried waiters standing by immediately +brought what was required. They drank a wine glassful and +returned to their table. + +At once, while they were still at the soup, Gagin was served with +champagne, and told the waiter to fill four glasses. Levin did +not refuse the wine, and asked for a second bottle. He was very +hungry, and ate and drank with great enjoyment, and with still +greater enjoyment took part in the lively and simple conversation +of his companions. Gagin, dropping his voice, told the last good +story from Petersburg, and the story, though improper and stupid, +was so ludicrous that Levin broke into roars of laughter so loud +that those near looked round. + +"That's in the same style as, 'that's a thing I can't endure!' +You know the story?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch. "Ah, that's +exquisite! Another bottle," he said to the waiter, and he began +to relate his good story. + +"Pyotr Illyitch Vinovsky invites you to drink with him," a little +old waiter interrupted Stepan Arkadyevitch, bringing two delicate +glasses of sparkling champagne, and addressing Stepan +Arkadyevitch and Levin. Stepan Arkadyevitch took the glass, and +looking towards a bald man with red mustaches at the other end of +the table, he nodded to him, smiling. + +"Who's that?" asked Levin. + +"You met him once at my place, don't you remember? A +good-natured fellow." + +Levin did the same as Stepan Arkadyevitch and took the glass. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch's anecdote too was very amusing. Levin told +his story, and that too was successful. Then they talked of +horses, of the races, of what they had been doing that day, and +of how smartly Vronsky's Atlas had won the first prize. Levin +did not notice how the time passed at dinner. + +"Ah! and here they are!" Stepan Arkadyevitch said towards the end +of dinner, leaning over the back of his chair and holding out his +hand to Vronsky, who came up with a tall officer of the Guards. +Vronsky's face too beamed with the look of good-humored enjoyment +that was general in the club. He propped his elbow playfully on +Stepan Arkadyevitch's shoulder, whispering something to him, and +he held out his hand to Levin with the same good-humored smile. + +"Very glad to meet you," he said. "I looked out for you at the +election, but I was told you had gone away." + +"Yes, I left the same day. We've just been talking of your +horse. I congratulate you," said Levin. "It was very rapidly +run." + +"Yes; you've race horses too, haven't you?" + +"No, my father had; but I remember and know something about it." + +"Where have you dined?" asked Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +"We were at the second table, behind the columns." + +"We've been celebrating his success," said the tall colonel. +"It's his second Imperial prize. I wish I might have the luck at +cards he has with horses. Well, why waste the precious time? +I'm going to the 'infernal regions,'" added the colonel, and he +walked away. + +"That's Yashvin," Vronsky said in answer to Turovtsin, and he sat +down in the vacated seat beside them. He drank the glass offered +him, and ordered a bottle of wine. Under the influence of the +club atmosphere or the wine he had drunk, Levin chatted away to +Vronsky of the best breeds of cattle, and was very glad not to +feel the slightest hostility to this man. He even told him, +among other things, that he had heard from his wife that she had +met him at Princess Marya Borissovna's. + +"Ah, Princess Marya Borissovna, she's exquisite!" said Stepan +Arkadyevitch, and he told an anecdote about her which set them +all laughing. Vronsky particularly laughed with such +simplehearted amusement that Levin felt quite reconciled to him. + +"Well, have we finished?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, getting up +with a smile. "Let us go." + + + +Chapter 8 + + +Getting up from the table, Levin walked with Gagin through the +lofty room to the billiard room, feeling his arms swing as he +walked with a peculiar lightness and ease. As he crossed the big +room, he came upon his father-in-law. + +"Well, how do you like our Temple of Indolence?" said the prince, +taking his arm. "Come along, come along!" + +"Yes, I wanted to walk about and look at everything. It's +interesting." + +"Yes, it's interesting for you. But its interest for me is quite +different. You look at those little old men now," he said, +pointing to a club member with bent back and projecting lip, +shuffling towards them in his soft boots, "and imagine that they +were _shlupiks_ like that from their birth up." + +"How _shlupiks_?" + +"I see you don't know that name. That's our club designation. +You know the game of rolling eggs: when one's rolled a long while +it becomes a _shlupik_. So it is with us; one goes on coming and +coming to the club, and ends by becoming a _shlupik_. Ah, you +laugh! but we look out, for fear of dropping into it ourselves. +You know Prince Tchetchensky?" inquired the prince; and Levin saw +by his face that he was just going to relate something funny. + +"No, I don't know him." + +"You don't say so! Well, Prince Tchetchensky is a well-known +figure. No matter, though. He's always playing billiards here. +Only three years ago he was not a _shlupik_ and kept up his spirits +and even used to call other people _shlupiks_. But one day he +turns up, and our porter...you know Vassily? Why, that fat one; +he's famous for his _bon mots_. And so Prince Tchetchensky asks +him, 'Come, Vassily, who's here? Any _shlupiks_ here yet?' And he +says, 'You're the third.' Yes, my dear boy, that he did!" + +Talking and greeting the friends they met, Levin and the prince +walked through all the rooms: the great room where tables had +already been set, and the usual partners were playing for small +stakes; the divan room, where they were playing chess, and Sergey +Ivanovitch was sitting talking to somebody; the billiard room, +where, about a sofa in a recess, there was a lively party +drinking champagne--Gagin was one of them. They peeped into the +"infernal regions," where a good many men were crowding round one +table, at which Yashvin was sitting. Trying not to make a noise, +they walked into the dark reading room, where under the shaded +lamps there sat a young man with a wrathful countenance, turning +over one journal after another, and a bald general buried in a +book. They went, too, into what the prince called the +intellectual room, where three gentlemen were engaged in a heated +discussion of the latest political news. + +"Prince, please come, we're ready," said one of his card party, +who had come to look for him, and the prince went off. Levin sat +down and listened, but recalling all the conversation of the +morning he felt all of a sudden fearfully bored. He got up +hurriedly, and went to look for Oblonsky and Turovtsin, with whom +it had been so pleasant. + +Turovtsin was one of the circle drinking in the billiard room, +and Stepan Arkadyevitch was talking with Vronsky near the door at +the farther corner of the room. + +"It's not that she's dull; but this undefined, this unsettled +position," Levin caught, and he was hurrying away, but Stepan +Arkadyevitch called to him. + +"Levin," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, and Levin noticed that his +eyes were not full of tears exactly, but moist, which always +happened when he had been drinking, or when he was touched. Just +now it was due to both causes. "Levin, don't go," he said, and +he warmly squeezed his arm above the elbow, obviously not at all +wishing to let him go. + +"This is a true friend of mine--almost my greatest friend," he +said to Vronsky. "You have become even closer and dearer to me. +And I want you, and I know you ought, to be friends, and great +friends, because you're both splendid fellows." + +"Well, there's nothing for us now but to kiss and be friends," +Vronsky said, with good-natured playfulness, holding out his +hand. + +Levin quickly took the offered hand, and pressed it warmly. + +"I'm very, very glad," said Levin. + +"Waiter, a bottle of champagne," said Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +"And I'm very glad," said Vronsky. + +But in spite of Stepan Arkadyevitch's desire, and their own +desire, they had nothing to talk about, and both felt it. + +"Do you know, he has never met Anna?" Stepan Arkadyevitch said to +Vronsky. "And I want above everything to take him to see her. +Let us go, Levin!" + +"Really?" said Vronsky. "She will be very glad to see you. I +should be going home at once," he added, "but I'm worried about +Yashvin, and I want to stay on till he finishes." + +"Why, is he losing?" + +"He keeps losing, and I'm the only friend that can restrain him." + +"Well, what do you say to pyramids? Levin, will you play? +Capital!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch. "Get the table ready," he +said to the marker. + +"It has been ready a long while," answered the marker, who had +already set the balls in a triangle, and was knocking the red one +about for his own diversion. + +"Well, let us begin." + +After the game Vronsky and Levin sat down at Gagin's table, and +at Stepan Arkadyevitch's suggestion Levin took a hand in the +game. + +Vronsky sat down at the table, surrounded by friends, who were +incessantly coming up to him. Every now and then he went to the +"infernal" to keep an eye on Yashvin. Levin was enjoying a +delightful sense of repose after the mental fatigue of the +morning. He was glad that all hostility was at an end with +Vronsky, and the sense of peace, decorum, and comfort never left +him. + +When the game was over, Stepan Arkadyevitch took Levin's arm. + +"Well, let us go to Anna's, then. At once? Eh? She is at home. +I promised her long ago to bring you. Where were you meaning to +spend the evening?" + +"Oh, nowhere specially. I promised Sviazhsky to go to the +Society of Agriculture. By all means, let us go," said Levin. + +"Very good; come along. Find out if my carriage is here," Stepan +Arkadyevitch said to the waiter. + +Levin went up to the table, paid the forty roubles he had lost; +paid his bill, the amount of which was in some mysterious way +ascertained by the little old waiter who stood at the counter, +and swinging his arms he walked through all the rooms to the way +out. + + + +Chapter 9 + + +"Oblonsky's carriage!" the porter shouted in an angry bass. The +carriage drove up and both got in. It was only for the first few +moments, while the carriage was driving out of the clubhouse +gates, that Levin was still under the influence of the club +atmosphere of repose, comfort, and unimpeachable good form. But +as soon as the carriage drove out into the street, and he felt it +jolting over the uneven road, heard the angry shout of a sledge +driver coming towards them, saw in the uncertain light the red +blind of a tavern and the shops, this impression was dissipated, +and he began to think over his actions, and to wonder whether he +was doing right in going to see Anna. What would Kitty say? But +Stepan Arkadyevitch gave him no time for reflection, and, as +though divining his doubts, he scattered them. + +"How glad I am," he said, "that you should know her! You know +Dolly has long wished for it. And Lvov's been to see her, and +often goes. Though she is my sister," Stepan Arkadyevitch +pursued, "I don't hesitate to say that she's a remarkable woman. +But you will see. Her position is very painful, especially now." + +"Why especially now?" + +"We are carrying on negotiations with her husband about a +divorce. And he's agreed; but there are difficulties in regard +to the son, and the business, which ought to have been arranged +long ago, has been dragging on for three months past. As soon as +the divorce is over, she will marry Vronsky. How stupid these +old ceremonies are, that no one believes in, and which only +prevent people being comfortable!" Stepan Arkadyevitch put in. +"Well, then their position will be as regular as mine, as yours." + +"What is the difficulty?" said Levin. + +"Oh, it's a long and tedious story! The whole business is in +such an anomalous position with us. But the point is she has +been for three months in Moscow, where everyone knows her, +waiting for the divorce; she goes out nowhere, sees no woman +except Dolly, because, do you understand, she doesn't care to +have people come as a favor. That fool Princess Varvara, even +she has left her, considering this a breach of propriety. Well, +you see, in such a position any other woman would not have found +resources in herself. But you'll see how she has arranged her +life--how calm, how dignified she is. To the left, in the +crescent opposite the church!" shouted Stepan Arkadyevitch, +leaning out of the window. "Phew! how hot it is!" he said, in +spite of twelve degrees of frost, flinging his open overcoat +still wider open. + +"But she has a daughter: no doubt she's busy looking after her?" +said Levin. + +"I believe you picture every woman simply as a female, _une +couveuse,_" said Stepan Arkadyevitch. "If she's occupied, it +must be with her children. No, she brings her up capitally, I +believe, but one doesn't hear about her. She's busy, in the +first place, with what she writes. I see you're smiling +ironically, but you're wrong. She's writing a children's book, +and doesn't talk about it to anyone, but she read it to me and I +gave the manuscript to Vorkuev...you know the publisher...and +he's an author himself too, I fancy. He understands those +things, and he says it's a remarkable piece of work. But are you +fancying she's an authoress?--not a bit of it. She's a woman +with a heart, before everything, but you'll see. Now she has a +little English girl with her, and a whole family she's looking +after." + +"Oh, something in a philanthropic way?" + +"Why, you will look at everything in the worst light. It's not +from philanthropy, it's from the heart. They--that is, Vronsky-- +had a trainer, an Englishman, first-rate in his own line, but a +drunkard. He's completely given up to drink--delirium tremens-- +and the family were cast on the world. She saw them, helped +them, got more and more interested in them, and now the whole +family is on her hands. But not by way of patronage, you know, +helping with money; she's herself preparing the boys in Russian +for the high school, and she's taken the little girl to live with +her. But you'll see her for yourself." + +The carriage drove into the courtyard, and Stepan Arkadyevitch +rang loudly at the entrance where sledges were standing. + +And without asking the servant who opened the door whether the +lady were at home, Stepan Arkadyevitch walked into the hall. +Levin followed him, more and more doubtful whether he was doing +right or wrong. + +Looking at himself in the glass, Levin noticed that he was red in +the face, but he felt certain he was not drunk, and he followed +Stepan Arkadyevitch up the carpeted stairs. At the top Stepan +Arkadyevitch inquired of the footman, who bowed to him as to an +intimate friend, who was with Anna Arkadyevna, and received the +answer that it was M. Vorkuev. + +"Where are they?" + +"In the study." + +Passing through the dining room, a room not very large, with +dark, paneled walls, Stepan Arkadyevitch and Levin walked over +the soft carpet to the half-dark study, lighted up by a single +lamp with a big dark shade. Another lamp with a reflector was +hanging on the wall, lighting up a big full-length portrait of +a woman, which Levin could not help looking at. It was the +portrait of Anna, painted in Italy by Mihailov. While Stepan +Arkadyevitch went behind the _treillage_, and the man's voice +which had been speaking paused, Levin gazed at the portrait, +which stood out from the frame in the brilliant light thrown +on it, and he could not tear himself away from it. He positively +forgot where he was, and not even hearing what was said, he could +not take his eyes off the marvelous portrait. It was not a +picture, but a living, charming woman, with black curling hair, +with bare arms and shoulders, with a pensive smile on the lips, +covered with soft down; triumphantly and softly she looked at him +with eyes that baffled him. She was not living only because she +was more beautiful than a living woman can be. + +"I am delighted!" He heard suddenly near him a voice, +unmistakably addressing him, the voice of the very woman he had +been admiring in the portrait. Anna had come from behind the +treillage to meet him, and Levin saw in the dim light of the +study the very woman of the portrait, in a dark blue shot gown, +not in the same position nor with the same expression, but with +the same perfection of beauty which the artist had caught in the +portrait. She was less dazzling in reality, but, on the other +hand, there was something fresh and seductive in the living woman +which was not in the portrait. + + + +Chapter 10 + + +She had risen to meet him, not concealing her pleasure at seeing +him; and in the quiet ease with which she held out her little +vigorous hand, introduced him to Vorkuev and indicated a +red-haired, pretty little girl who was sitting at work, calling +her her pupil, Levin recognized and liked the manners of a woman +of the great world, always self-possessed and natural. + +"I am delighted, delighted," she repeated, and on her lips these +simple words took for Levin's ears a special significance. "I +have known you and liked you for a long while, both from your +friendship with Stiva and for your wife's sake.... I knew her +for a very short time, but she left on me the impression of an +exquisite flower, simply a flower. And to think she will soon be +a mother!" + +She spoke easily and without haste, looking now and then from +Levin to her brother, and Levin felt that the impression he was +making was good, and he felt immediately at home, simple and +happy with her, as though he had known her from childhood. + +"Ivan Petrovitch and I settled in Alexey's study," she said in +answer to Stepan Arkadyevitch's question whether he might smoke, +"just so as to be able to smoke"--and glancing at Levin, instead +of asking whether he would smoke, she pulled closer a +tortoise-shell cigar-case and took a cigarette. + +"How are you feeling today?" her brother asked her. + +"Oh, nothing. Nerves, as usual." + +"Yes, isn't it extraordinarily fine?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, +noticing that Levin was scrutinizing the picture. + +"I have never seen a better portrait." + +"And extraordinarily like, isn't it?" said Vorkuev. + +Levin looked from the portrait to the original. A peculiar +brilliance lighted up Anna's face when she felt his eyes on her. +Levin flushed, and to cover his confusion would have asked +whether she had seen Darya Alexandrovna lately; but at that +moment Anna spoke. "We were just talking, Ivan Petrovitch and I, +of Vashtchenkov's last pictures. Have you seen them?" + +"Yes, I have seen them," answered Levin. + +"But, I beg your pardon, I interrupted you...you were saying?..." + +Levin asked if she had seen Dolly lately. + +"She was here yesterday. She was very indignant with the high +school people on Grisha's account. The Latin teacher, it seems, +had been unfair to him." + +"Yes, I have seen his pictures. I didn't care for them very +much," Levin went back to the subject she had started. + +Levin talked now not at all with that purely businesslike +attitude to the subject with which he had been talking all the +morning. Every word in his conversation with her had a special +significance. And talking to her was pleasant; still pleasanter +it was to listen to her. + +Anna talked not merely naturally and cleverly, but cleverly and +carelessly, attaching no value to her own ideas and giving great +weight to the ideas of the person she was talking to. + +The conversation turned on the new movement in art, on the new +illustrations of the Bible by a French artist. Vorkuev attacked +the artist for a realism carried to the point of coarseness. + +Levin said that the French had carried conventionality further +than anyone, and that consequently they see a great merit in the +return to realism. In the fact of not lying they see poetry. + +Never had anything clever said by Levin given him so much +pleasure as this remark. Anna's face lighted up at once, as at +once she appreciated the thought. She laughed. + +"I laugh," she said, "as one laughs when one sees a very true +portrait. What you said so perfectly hits off French art now, +painting and literature too, indeed--Zola, Daudet. But perhaps +it is always so, that men form their conceptions from fictitious, +conventional types, and then--all the _combinaisons_ made--they +are tired of the fictitious figures and begin to invent more +natural, true figures." + +"That's perfectly true," said Vorknev. + +"So you've been at the club?" she said to her brother. + +"Yes, yes, this is a woman!" Levin thought, forgetting himself +and staring persistently at her lovely, mobile face, which at +that moment was all at once completely transformed. Levin did +not hear what she was talking of as she leaned over to her +brother, but he was struck by the change of her expression. Her +face--so handsome a moment before in its repose--suddenly wore a +look of strange curiosity, anger, and pride. But this lasted +only an instant. She dropped her eyelids, as though recollecting +something. + +"Oh, well, but that's of no interest to anyone," she said, and +she turned to the English girl. + +"Please order the tea in the drawing room," she said in English. + +The girl got up and went out. + +"Well, how did she get through her examination?" asked Stepan +Arkadyevitch. + +"Splendidly! She's a very gifted child and a sweet character." + +"It will end in your loving her more than your own." + +"There a man speaks. In love there's no more nor less. I love +my daughter with one love, and her with another." + +"I was just telling Anna Arkadyevna," said Vorkuev, "that if she +were to put a hundredth part of the energy she devotes to this +English girl to the public question of the education of Russian +children, she would be doing a great and useful work." + +"Yes, but I can't help it; I couldn't do it. Count Alexey +Kirillovitch urged me very much" (as she uttered the words _Count +Alexey Kirillovitch_ she glanced with appealing timidity at Levin, +and he unconsciously responded with a respectful and reassuring +look); "he urged me to take up the school in the village. I +visited it several times. The children were very nice, but I +could not feel drawn to the work. You speak of energy. Energy +rests upon love; and come as it will, there's no forcing it. I +took to this child--I could not myself say why." + +And she glanced again at Levin. And her smile and her glance-- +all told him that it was to him only she was addressing her +words, valuing his good opinion, and at the same time sure +beforehand that they understood each other. + +"I quite understand that," Levin answered. "It's impossible to +give one's heart to a school or such institutions in general, and +I believe that's just why philanthropic institutions always +give such poor results." + +She was silent for a while, then she smiled. + +"Yes, yes," she agreed; "I never could. _Je n'ai pas le coeur +assez_ large to love a whole asylum of horrid little girls. +_Cela ne m'a jamais reussi._ There are so many women who have +made themselves _une position sociale_ in that way. And now more +than ever," she said with a mournful, confiding expression, +ostensibly addressing her brother, but unmistakably intending her +words only for Levin, "now when I have such need of some occupation, +I cannot." And suddenly frowning (Levin saw that she was frowning +at herself for talking about herself) she changed the subject. +"I know about you," she said to Levin; "that you're not a +public-spirited citizen, and I have defended you to the best of +my ability." + +"How have you defended me?" + +"Oh, according to the attacks made on you. But won't you have +some tea?" She rose and took up a book bound in morocco. + +"Give it to me, Anna Arkadyevna," said Vorkuev, indicating the +book. "It's well worth taking up." + +"Oh, no, it's all so sketchy." + +"I told him about it," Stepan Arkadyevitch said to his sister, +nodding at Levin. + +"You shouldn't have. My writing is something after the fashion +of those little baskets and carving which Liza Mertsalova used to +sell me from the prisons. She had the direction of the prison +department in that society," she turned to Levin; "and they were +miracles of patience, the work of those poor wretches." + +And Levin saw a new trait in this woman, who attracted him so +extraordinarily. Besides wit, grace, and beauty, she had truth. +She had no wish to hide from him all the bitterness of her +position. As she said that she sighed, and her face suddenly +taking a hard expression, looked as it were turned to stone. +With that expression on her face she was more beautiful than +ever; but the expression was new; it was utterly unlike that +expression, radiant with happiness and creating happiness, which +had been caught by the painter in her portrait. Levin looked +more than once at the portrait and at her figure, as taking her +brother's arm she walked with him to the high doors and he felt +for her a tenderness and pity at which he wondered himself. + +She asked Levin and Vorkuev to go into the drawing room, while +she stayed behind to say a few words to her brother. "About her +divorce, about Vronsky, and what he's doing at the club, about +me?" wondered Levin. And he was so keenly interested by the +question of what she was saying to Stepan Arkadyevitch, that he +scarcely heard what Vorkuev was telling him of the qualities of +the story for children Anna Arkadyevna had written. + +At tea the same pleasant sort of talk, full of interesting +matter, continued. There was not a single instant when a subject +for conversation was to seek; on the contrary, it was felt that +one had hardly time to say what one had to say, and eagerly held +back to hear what the others were saying. And all that was said, +not only by her, but by Vorkuev and Stepan Arkadyevitch--all, so +it seemed to Levin, gained peculiar significance from her +appreciation and her criticism. While he followed this +interesting conversation, Levin was all the time admiring her-- +her beauty, her intelligence, her culture, and at the same time +her directness and genuine depth of feeling. He listened and +talked, and all the while he was thinking of her inner life, +trying to divine her feelings. And though he had judged her so +severely hitherto, now by some strange chain of reasoning he was +justifying her and was also sorry for her, and afraid that +Vronsky did not fully understand her. At eleven o'clock, when +Stepan Arkadyevitch got up to go (Vorkuev had left earlier), it +seemed to Levin that he had only just come. Regretfully Levin +too rose. + +"Good-bye," she said, holding his hand and glancing into his face +with a winning look. "I am very glad _que la glace est rompue._" + +She dropped his hand, and half closed her eyes. + +"Tell your wife that I love her as before, and that if she cannot +pardon me my position, then my wish for her is that she may never +pardon it. To pardon it, one must go through what I have gone +through, and may God spare her that." + +"Certainly, yes, I will tell her..." Levin said, blushing. + + + +Chapter 11 + + +"What a marvelous, sweet and unhappy woman!" he was thinking, +as he stepped out into the frosty air with Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +"Well, didn't I tell you?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, seeing that +Levin had been completely won over. + +"Yes," said Levin dreamily, "an extraordinary woman! It's not +her cleverness, but she has such wonderful depth of feeling. I'm +awfully sorry for her!" + +"Now, please God, everything will soon be settled. Well, well, +don't be hard on people in future," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, +opening the carriage door. "Good-bye; we don't go the same way." + +Still thinking of Anna, of everything, even the simplest phrase +in their conversation with her, and recalling the minutest +changes in her expression, entering more and more into her +position, and feeling sympathy for her, Levin reached home. + + +At home Kouzma told Levin that Katerina Alexandrovna was quite +well, and that her sisters had not long been gone, and he handed +him two letters. Levin read them at once in the hall, that he +might not over look them later. One was from Sokolov, his +bailiff. Sokolov wrote that the corn could not be sold, that it +was fetching only five and a half roubles, and that more than +that could not be got for it. The other letter was from his +sister. She scolded him for her business being still unsettled. + +"Well, we must sell it at five and a half if we can't get more," +Levin decided the first question, which had always before seemed +such a weighty one, with extraordinary facility on the spot. +"It's extraordinary how all one's time is taken up here," he +thought, considering the second letter. He felt himself to blame +for not having got done what his sister had asked him to do for +her. "Today, again, I've not been to the court, but today I've +certainly not had time." And resolving that he would not fail to +do it next day, he went up to his wife. As he went in, Levin +rapidly ran through mentally the day he had spent. All the +events of the day were conversations, conversations he had heard +and taken part in. All the conversations were upon subjects +which, if he had been alone at home, he would never have taken +up, but here they were very interesting. And all these +conversations were right enough, only in two places there was +something not quite right. One was what he had said about the +carp, the other was something not "quite the thing" in the tender +sympathy he was feeling for Anna. + +Levin found his wife low-spirited and dull. The dinner of the +three sisters had gone off very well, but then they had waited +and waited for him, all of them had felt dull, the sisters had +departed, and she had been left alone. + +"Well, and what have you been doing?" she asked him, looking +straight into his eyes, which shone with rather a suspicious +brightness. But that she might not prevent his telling her +everything, she concealed her close scrutiny of him, and with an +approving smile listened to his account of how he had spent the +evening. + +"Well, I'm very glad I met Vronsky. I felt quite at ease and +natural with him. You understand, I shall try not to see him, +but I'm glad that this awkwardness is all over," he said, and +remembering that by way of trying not to see him, he had +immediately gone to call on Anna, he blushed. "We talk about the +peasants drinking; I don't know which drinks most, the peasantry +or our own class; the peasants do on holidays, but..." + +But Kitty took not the slightest interest in discussing the +drinking habits of the peasants. She saw that he blushed, and +she wanted to know why. + +"Well, and then where did you go?" + +"Stiva urged me awfully to go and see Anna Arkadyevna." + +And as he said this, Levin blushed even more, and his doubts as +to whether he had done right in going to see Anna were settled +once for all. He knew now that he ought not to have done so. + +Kitty's eyes opened in a curious way and gleamed at Anna's name, +but controlling herself with an effort, she concealed her emotion +and deceived him. + +"Oh!" was all she said. + +"I'm sure you won't be angry at my going. Stiva begged me to, +and Dolly wished it," Levin went on. + +"Oh, no!" she said, but he saw in her eyes a constraint that +boded him no good. + +"She is a very sweet, very, very unhappy, good woman," he said, +telling her about Anna, her occupations, and what she had told +him to say to her. + +"Yes, of course, she is very much to be pitied," said Kitty, when +he had finished. "Whom was your letter from?" + +He told her, and believing in her calm tone, he went to change +his coat. + +Coming back, he found Kitty in the same easy chair. When he went +up to her, she glanced at him and broke into sobs. + +"What? what is it?" he asked, knowing beforehand what. + +"You're in love with that hateful woman; she has bewitched you! +I saw it in your eyes. Yes, yes! What can it all lead to? You +were drinking at the club, drinking and gambling, and then you +went...to her of all people! No, we must go away.... I shall go +away tomorrow." + +It was a long while before Levin could soothe his wife. At last +he succeeded in calming her, only by confessing that a feeling of +pity, in conjunction with the wine he had drunk, had been too +much for him, that he had succumbed to Anna's artful influence, +and that he would avoid her. One thing he did with more +sincerity confess to was that living so long in Moscow, a life of +nothing but conversation, eating and drinking, he was +degenerating. They talked till three o'clock in the morning. +Only at three o'clock were they sufficiently reconciled to be +able to go to sleep. + + + +Chapter 12 + + +After taking leave of her guests, Anna did not sit down, but +began walking up and down the room. She had unconsciously the +whole evening done her utmost to arouse in Levin a feeling of +love--as of late she had fallen into doing with all young men-- +and she knew she had attained her aim, as far as was possible in +one evening, with a married and conscientious man. She liked him +indeed extremely, and, in spite of the striking difference, from +the masculine point of view, between Vronsky and Levin, as a +woman she saw something they had in common, which had made Kitty +able to love both. Yet as soon as he was out of the room, she +ceased to think of him. + +One thought, and one only, pursued her in different forms, and +refused to be shaken off. "If I have so much effect on others, +on this man, who loves his home and his wife, why is it _he_ is +so cold to me?...not cold exactly, he loves me, I know that! But +something new is drawing us apart now. Why wasn't he here all +the evening? He told Stiva to say he could not leave Yashvin, +and must watch over his play. Is Yashvin a child? But supposing +it's true. He never tells a lie. But there's something else in +it if it's true. He is glad of an opportunity of showing me that +he has other duties; I know that, I submit to that. But why +prove that to me? He wants to show me that his love for me is +not to interfere with his freedom. But I need no proofs, I need +love. He ought to understand all the bitterness of this life for +me here in Moscow. Is this life? I am not living, but waiting +for an event, which is continually put off and put off. No +answer again! And Stiva says he cannot go to Alexey +Alexandrovitch. And I can't write again. I can do nothing, can +begin nothing, can alter nothing; I hold myself in, I wait, +inventing amusements for myself--the English family, writing, +reading--but it's all nothing but a sham, it's all the same as +morphine. He ought to feel for me," she said, feeling tears of +self-pity coming into her eyes. + +She heard Vronsky's abrupt ring and hurriedly dried her tears-- +not only dried her tears, but sat down by a lamp and opened a +book, affecting composure. She wanted to show him that she was +displeased that he had not come home as he had promised-- +displeased only, and not on any account to let him see her +distress, and least of all, her self-pity. She might pity +herself, but he must not pity her. She did not want strife, she +blamed him for wanting to quarrel, but unconsciously put herself +into an attitude of antagonism. + +"Well, you've not been dull?" he said, eagerly and +good-humoredly, going up to her. "What a terrible passion it +is--gambling!" + +"No, I've not been dull; I've learned long ago not to be dull. +Stiva has been here and Levin." + +"Yes, they meant to come and see you. Well, how did you like +Levin?" he said, sitting down beside her. + +"Very much. They have not long been gone. What was Yashvin +doing?" + +"He was winning--seventeen thousand. I got him away. He had +really started home, but he went back again, and now he's +losing." + +"Then what did you stay for?" she asked, suddenly lifting her +eyes to him. The expression of her face was cold and ungracious. +"You told Stiva you were staying on to get Yashvin away. And you +have left him there." + +The same expression of cold readiness for the conflict appeared +on his face too. + +"In the first place, I did not ask him to give you any message; +and secondly, I never tell lies. But what's the chief point, I +wanted to stay, and I stayed," he said, frowning. "Anna, what +is it for, why will you?" he said after a moment's silence, +bending over towards her, and he opened his hand, hoping she +would lay hers in it. + +She was glad of this appeal for tenderness. But some strange +force of evil would not let her give herself up to her feelings, +as though the rules of warfare would not permit her to surrender. + +"Of course you wanted to stay, and you stayed. You do everything +you want to. But what do you tell me that for? With what +object?" she said, getting more and more excited. "Does anyone +contest your rights? But you want to be right, and you're +welcome to be right." + +His hand closed, he turned away, and his face wore a still more +obstinate expression. + +"For you it's a matter of obstinacy," she said, watching him +intently and suddenly finding the right word for that expression +that irritated her, "simply obstinacy. For you it's a question +of whether you keep the upper hand of me, while for me...." +Again she felt sorry for herself, and she almost burst into +tears. "If you knew what it is for me! When I feel as I do now +that you are hostile, yes, hostile to me, if you knew what this +means for me! If you knew how I feel on the brink of calamity at +this instant, how afraid I am of myself!" And she turned away, +hiding her sobs. + +"But what are you talking about?" he said, horrified at her +expression of despair, and again bending over her, he took her +hand and kissed it. "What is it for? Do I seek amusements +outside our home? Don't I avoid the society of women?" + +"Well, yes! If that were all!" she said. + +"Come, tell me what I ought to do to give you peace of mind? I +am ready to do anything to make you happy," he said, touched by +her expression of despair; "what wouldn't I do to save you from +distress of any sort, as now, Anna!" he said. + +"It's nothing, nothing!" she said. "I don't know myself whether +it's the solitary life, my nerves.... Come, don't let us talk +of it. What about the race? You haven't told me!" she inquired, +trying to conceal her triumph at the victory, which had anyway +been on her side. + +He asked for supper, and began telling her about the races; but +in his tone, in his eyes, which became more and more cold, she +saw that he did not forgive her for her victory, that the feeling +of obstinacy with which she had been struggling had asserted +itself again in him. He was colder to her than before, as though +he were regretting his surrender. And she, remembering the words +that had given her the victory, "how I feel on the brink of +calamity, how afraid I am of myself," saw that this weapon was a +dangerous one, and that it could not be used a second time. And +she felt that beside the love that bound them together there had +grown up between them some evil spirit of strife, which she could +not exorcise from his, and still less from her own heart. + + + +Chapter 13 + + +There are no conditions to which a man cannot become used, +especially if he sees that all around him are living in the same +way. Levin could not have believed three months before that he +could have gone quietly to sleep in the condition in which he was +that day, that leading an aimless, irrational life, living too +beyond his means, after drinking to excess (he could not call +what happened at the club anything else), forming inappropriately +friendly relations with a man with whom his wife had once been in +love, and a still more inappropriate call upon a woman who could +only be called a lost woman, after being fascinated by that woman +and causing his wife distress--he could still go quietly to +sleep. But under the influence of fatigue, a sleepless night, +and the wine he had drunk, his sleep was sound and untroubled. + +At five o'clock the creak of a door opening waked him. He jumped +up and looked round. Kitty was not in bed beside him. But there +was a light moving behind the screen, and he heard her steps. + +"What is it?...what is it?" he said, half-asleep. "Kitty! +What is it?" + +"Nothing," she said, coming from behind the screen with a candle +in her hand. "I felt unwell," she said, smiling a particularly +sweet and meaning smile. + +"What? has it begun?" he said in terror. "We ought to send..." +and hurriedly he reached after his clothes. + +"No, no," she said, smiling and holding his hand. "It's sure to +be nothing. I was rather unwell, only a little. It's all over +now." + +And getting into bed, she blew out the candle, lay down and was +still. Though he thought her stillness suspicious, as though she +were holding her breath, and still more suspicious the expression +of peculiar tenderness and excitement with which, as she came +from behind the screen, she said "nothing," he was so sleepy that +he fell asleep at once. Only later he remembered the stillness +of her breathing, and understood all that must have been passing +in her sweet, precious heart while she lay beside him, not +stirring, in anticipation of the greatest event in a woman's +life. At seven o'clock he was waked by the touch of her hand on +his shoulder, and a gentle whisper. She seemed struggling +between regret at waking him, and the desire to talk to him. + +"Kostya, don't be frightened. It's all right. But I fancy.... +We ought to send for Lizaveta Petrovna." + +The candle was lighted again. She was sitting up in bed, holding +some knitting, which she had been busy upon during the last few +days. + +"Please, don't be frightened, it's all right. I'm not a bit +afraid," she said, seeing his scared face, and she pressed his +hand to her bosom and then to her lips. + +He hurriedly jumped up, hardly awake, and kept his eyes fixed on +her, as he put on his dressing gown; then he stopped, still +looking at her. He had to go, but he could not tear himself from +her eyes. He thought he loved her face, knew her expression, her +eyes, but never had he seen it like this. How hateful and +horrible he seemed to himself, thinking of the distress he had +caused her yesterday. Her flushed face, fringed with soft +curling hair under her night cap, was radiant with joy and +courage. + +Though there was so little that was complex or artificial in +Kitty's character in general, Levin was struck by what was +revealed now, when suddenly all disguises were thrown off and the +very kernel of her soul shone in her eyes. And in this +simplicity and nakedness of her soul, she, the very woman he +loved in her, was more manifest than ever. She looked at him, +smiling; but all at once her brows twitched, she threw up her +head, and going quickly up to him, clutched his hand and pressed +close up to him, breathing her hot breath upon him. She was in +pain and was, as it were, complaining to him of her suffering. +And for the first minute, from habit, it seemed to him that he +was to blame. But in her eyes there was a tenderness that told +him that she was far from reproaching him, that she loved him for +her sufferings. "If not I, who is to blame for it?" he thought +unconsciously, seeking someone responsible for this suffering for +him to punish; but there was no one responsible. She was +suffering, complaining, and triumphing in her sufferings, and +rejoicing in them, and loving them. He saw that something +sublime was being accomplished in her soul, but what? He could +not make it out. It was beyond his understanding. + +"I have sent to mamma. You go quickly to fetch Lizaveta Petrovna +...Kostya!... Nothing, it's over." + +She moved away from him and rang the bell. + +"Well, go now; Pasha's coming. I am all right." + +And Levin saw with astonishment that she had taken up the +knitting she had brought in in the night and begun working at it +again. + +As Levin was going out of one door, he heard the maid-servant +come in at the other. He stood at the door and heard Kitty +giving exact directions to the maid, and beginning to help her +move the bedstead. + +He dressed, and while they were putting in his horses, as a hired +sledge was not to be seen yet, he ran again up to the bedroom, +not on tiptoe, it seemed to him, but on wings. Two maid-servants +were carefully moving something in the bedroom. + +Kitty was walking about knitting rapidly and giving directions. + +"I'm going for the doctor. They have sent for Lizaveta Petrovna, +but I'll go on there too. Isn't there anything wanted? Yes, +shall I go to Dolly's?" + +She looked at him, obviously not hearing what he was saying. + +"Yes, yes. Do go," she said quickly, frowning and waving her +hand to him. + +He had just gone into the drawing room, when suddenly a plaintive +moan sounded from the bedroom, smothered instantly. He stood +still, and for a long while he could not understand. + +"Yes, that is she," he said to himself, and clutching at his head +he ran downstairs. + +"Lord have mercy on us! pardon us! aid us!" he repeated the words +that for some reason came suddenly to his lips. And he, an +unbeliever, repeated these words not with his lips only. At that +instant he knew that all his doubts, even the impossibility of +believing with his reason, of which he was aware in himself, did +not in the least hinder his turning to God. All of that now +floated out of his soul like dust. To whom was he to turn if not +to Him in whose hands he felt himself, his soul, and his love? + +The horse was not yet ready, but feeling a peculiar concentration +of his physical forces and his intellect on what he had to do, he +started off on foot without waiting for the horse, and told +Kouzma to overtake him. + +At the corner he met a night cabman driving hurriedly. In the +little sledge, wrapped in a velvet cloak, sat Lizaveta Petrovna +with a kerchief round her head. "Thank God! thank God!" he said, +overjoyed to recognize her little fair face which wore a +peculiarly serious, even stern expression. Telling the driver +not to stop, he ran along beside her. + +"For two hours, then? Not more?" she inquired. "You should let +Pyotr Dmitrievitch know, but don't hurry him. And get some opium +at the chemist's." + +"So you think that it may go on well? Lord have mercy on us and +help us!" Levin said, seeing his own horse driving out of the +gate. Jumping into the sledge beside Kouzma, he told him to +drive to the doctor's. + + + +Chapter 14 + + +The doctor was not yet up, and the footman said that "he had been +up late, and had given orders not to be waked, but would get up +soon." The footman was cleaning the lamp-chimneys, and seemed +very busy about them. This concentration of the footman upon his +lamps, and his indifference to what was passing in Levin, at +first astounded him, but immediately on considering the question +he realized that no one knew or was bound to know his feelings, +and that it was all the more necessary to act calmly, sensibly, +and resolutely to get through this wall of indifference and +attain his aim. + +"Don't be in a hurry or let anything slip," Levin said to +himself, feeling a greater and greater flow of physical energy +and attention to all that lay before him to do. + +Having ascertained that the doctor was not getting up, Levin +considered various plans, and decided on the following one: that +Kouzma should go for another doctor, while he himself should go +to the chemist's for opium, and if when he came back the doctor +had not yet begun to get up, he would either by tipping the +footman, or by force, wake the doctor at all hazards. + +At the chemist's the lank shopman sealed up a packet of powders +for a coachman who stood waiting, and refused him opium with the +same callousness with which the doctor's footman had cleaned his +lamp chimneys. Trying not to get flurried or out of temper, +Levin mentioned the names of the doctor and midwife, and +explaining what the opium was needed for, tried to persuade him. +The assistant inquired in German whether he should give it, and +receiving an affirmative reply from behind the partition, he took +out a bottle and a funnel, deliberately poured the opium from a +bigger bottle into a little one, stuck on a label, sealed it up, +in spite of Levin's request that he would not do so, and was +about to wrap it up too. This was more than Levin could stand; +he took the bottle firmly out of his hands, and ran to the big +glass doors. The doctor was not even now getting up, and the +footman, busy now in putting down the rugs, refused to wake him. +Levin deliberately took out a ten rouble note, and, careful to +speak slowly, though losing no time over the business, he handed +him the note, and explained that Pyotr Dmitrievitch (what a great +and important personage he seemed to Levin now, this Pyotr +Dmitrievitch, who had been of so little consequence in his eyes +before!) had promised to come at any time; that he would +certainly not be angry! and that he must therefore wake him at +once. + +The footman agreed, and went upstairs, taking Levin into the +waiting room. + +Levin could hear through the door the doctor coughing, moving +about, washing, and saying something. Three minutes passed; it +seemed to Levin that more than an hour had gone by. He could not +wait any longer. + +"Pyotr Dmitrievitch, Pyotr Dmitrievitch!" he said in an imploring +voice at the open door. "For God's sake, forgive me! See me as +you are. It's been going on more than two hours already." + +"In a minute; in a minute!" answered a voice, and to his +amazement Levin heard that the doctor was smiling as he spoke. + +"For one instant." + +"In a minute." + +Two minutes more passed while the doctor was putting on his +boots, and two minutes more while the doctor put on his coat and +combed his hair. + +"Pyotr Dmitrievitch!" Levin was beginning again in a plaintive +voice, just as the doctor came in dressed and ready. "These +people have no conscience," thought Levin. "Combing his hair, +while we're dying!" + +"Good morning!" the doctor said to him, shaking hands, and, as it +were, teasing him with his composure. "There's no hurry. Well +now?" + +Trying to be as accurate as possible, Levin began to tell him +every unnecessary detail of his wife's condition, interrupting +his account repeatedly with entreaties that the doctor would come +with him at once. + +"Oh, you needn't be in any hurry. You don't understand, you +know. I'm certain I'm not wanted, still I've promised, and if +you like, I'll come. But there's no hurry. Please sit down; +won't you have some coffee?" + +Levin stared at him with eyes that asked whether he was laughing +at him; but the doctor had no notion of making fun of him. + +"I know, I know," the doctor said, smiling; "I'm a married man +myself; and at these moments we husbands are very much to be +pitied. I've a patient whose husband always takes refuge in the +stables on such occasions." + +"But what do you think, Pyotr Dmitrievitch? Do you suppose it +may go all right?" + +"Everything points to a favorable issue." + +"So you'll come immediately?" said Levin, looking wrathfully at +the servant who was bringing in the coffee. + +"In an hour's time." + +"Oh, for mercy's sake!" + +"Well, let me drink my coffee, anyway." + +The doctor started upon his coffee. Both were silent. + +"The Turks are really getting beaten, though. Did you read +yesterday's telegrams?" said the doctor, munching some roll. + +"No, I can't stand it!" said Levin, jumping up. "So you'll be +with us in a quarter of an hour." + +"In half an hour." + +"On your honor?" + +When Levin got home, he drove up at the same time as the +princess, and they went up to the bedroom door together. The +princess had tears in her eyes, and her hands were shaking. +Seeing Levin, she embraced him, and burst into tears. + +"Well, my dear Lizaveta Petrovna?" she queried, clasping the hand +of the midwife, who came out to meet them with a beaming and +anxious face. + +"She's going on well," she said; "persuade her to lie down. She +will be easier so." + +From the moment when he had waked up and understood what was +going on, Levin had prepared his mind to bear resolutely what was +before him, and without considering or anticipating anything, to +avoid upsetting his wife, and on the contrary to soothe her and +keep up her courage. Without allowing himself even to think of +what was to come, of how it would end, judging from his inquiries +as to the usual duration of these ordeals, Levin had in his +imagination braced himself to bear up and to keep a tight rein on +his feelings for five hours, and it had seemed to him he could do +this. But when he came back from the doctor's and saw her +sufferings again, he fell to repeating more and more frequently: +"Lord, have mercy on us, and succor us!" He sighed, and flung his +head up, and began to feel afraid he could not bear it, that he +would burst into tears or run away. Such agony it was to him. +And only one hour had passed. + +But after that hour there passed another hour, two hours, three, +the full five hours he had fixed as the furthest limit of his +sufferings, and the position was still unchanged; and he was +still bearing it because there was nothing to be done but bear +it; every instant feeling that he had reached the utmost limits +of his endurance, and that his heart would break with sympathy +and pain. + +But still the minutes passed by and the hours, and still hours +more, and his misery and horror grew and were more and more +intense. + +All the ordinary conditions of life, without which one can form +no conception of anything, had ceased to exist for Levin. He +lost all sense of time. Minutes--those minutes when she sent for +him and he held her moist hand, that would squeeze his hand with +extraordinary violence and then push it away--seemed to him +hours, and hours seemed to him minutes. He was surprised when +Lizaveta Petrovna asked him to light a candle behind a screen, +and he found that it was five o'clock in the afternoon. If he +had been told it was only ten o'clock in the morning, he would not +have been more surprised. Where he was all this time, he knew as +little as the time of anything. He saw her swollen face, +sometimes bewildered and in agony, sometimes smiling and trying +to reassure him. He saw the old princess too, flushed and +overwrought, with her gray curls in disorder, forcing herself to +gulp down her tears, biting her lips; he saw Dolly too and the +doctor, smoking fat cigarettes, and Lizaveta Petrovna with a +firm, resolute, reassuring face, and the old prince walking up +and down the hall with a frowning face. But why they came in and +went out, where they were, he did not know. The princess was +with the doctor in the bedroom, then in the study, where a table +set for dinner suddenly appeared; then she was not there, but +Dolly was. Then Levin remembered he had been sent somewhere. +Once he had been sent to move a table and sofa. He had done this +eagerly, thinking it had to be done for her sake, and only later +on he found it was his own bed he had been getting ready. Then +he had been sent to the study to ask the doctor something. The +doctor had answered and then had said something about the +irregularities in the municipal council. Then he had been sent +to the bedroom to help the old princess to move the holy picture +in its silver and gold setting, and with the princess's old +waiting maid he had clambered on a shelf to reach it and had +broken the little lamp, and the old servant had tried to reassure +him about the lamp and about his wife, and he carried the holy +picture and set it at Kitty's head, carefully tucking it in +behind the pillow. But where, when, and why all this had +happened, he could not tell. He did not understand why the old +princess took his hand, and looking compassionately at him, +begged him not to worry himself, and Dolly persuaded him to eat +something and led him out of the room, and even the doctor looked +seriously and with commiseration at him and offered him a drop of +something. + +All he knew and felt was that what was happening was what had +happened nearly a year before in the hotel of the country town at +the deathbed of his brother Nikolay. But that had been grief-- +this was joy. Yet that grief and this joy were alike outside all +the ordinary conditions of life; they were loop-holes, as it were, +in that ordinary life through which there came glimpses of +something sublime. And in the contemplation of this sublime +something the soul was exalted to inconceivable heights of which +it had before had no conception, while reason lagged behind, +unable to keep up with it. + +"Lord, have mercy on us, and succor us!" he repeated to himself +incessantly, feeling, in spite of his long and, as it seemed, +complete alienation from religion, that he turned to God just as +trustfully and simply as he had in his childhood and first youth. + +All this time he had two distinct spiritual conditions. One was +away from her, with the doctor, who kept smoking one fat +cigarette after another and extinguishing them on the edge of a +full ash tray, with Dolly, and with the old prince, where there +was talk about dinner, about politics, about Marya Petrovna's +illness, and where Levin suddenly forgot for a minute what was +happening, and felt as though he had waked up from sleep; the +other was in her presence, at her pillow, where his heart seemed +breaking and still did not break from sympathetic suffering, and +he prayed to God without ceasing. And every time he was brought +back from a moment of oblivion by a scream reaching him from the +bedroom, he fell into the same strange terror that had come upon +him the first minute. Every time he heard a shriek, he jumped +up, ran to justify himself, remembered on the way that he was not +to blame, and he longed to defend her, to help her. But as he +looked at her, he saw again that help was impossible, and he was +filled with terror and prayed: "Lord, have mercy on us, and help +us!" And as time went on, both these conditions became more +intense; the calmer he became away from her, completely +forgetting her, the more agonizing became both her sufferings and +his feeling of helplessness before them. He jumped up, would +have liked to run away, but ran to her. + +Sometimes, when again and again she called upon him, he blamed +her; but seeing her patient, smiling face, and hearing the words, +"I am worrying you," he threw the blame on God; but thinking of +God, at once he fell to beseeching God to forgive him and have +mercy. + + + + + + +He did not know whether it was late or early. The candles had +all burned out. Dolly had just been in the study and had +suggested to the doctor that he should lie down. Levin sat +listening to the doctor's stories of a quack mesmerizer and +looking at the ashes of his cigarette. There had been a period +of repose, and he had sunk into oblivion. He had completely +forgotten what was going on now. He heard the doctor's chat and +understood it. Suddenly there came an unearthly shriek. The +shriek was so awful that Levin did not even jump up, but holding +his breath, gazed in terrified inquiry at the doctor. The doctor +put his head on one side, listened, and smiled approvingly. +Everything was so extraordinary that nothing could strike Levin +as strange. "I suppose it must be so," he thought, and still sat +where he was. Whose scream was this? He jumped up, ran on +tiptoe to the bedroom, edged round Lizaveta Petrovna and the +princess, and took up his position at Kitty's pillow. The scream +had subsided, but there was some change now. What it was he did +not see and did not comprehend, and he had no wish to see or +comprehend. But he saw it by the face of Lizaveta Petrovna. +Lizaveta Petrovna's face was stern and pale, and still as +resolute, though her jaws were twitching, and her eyes were fixed +intently on Kitty. Kitty's swollen and agonized face, a tress of +hair clinging to her moist brow, was turned to him and sought his +eyes. Her lifted hands asked for his hands. Clutching his chill +hands in her moist ones, she began squeezing them to her face. + +"Don't go, don't go! I'm not afraid, I'm not afraid!" she said +rapidly. "Mamma, take my earrings. They bother me. You're not +afraid? Quick, quick, Lizaveta Petrovna..." + +She spoke quickly, very quickly, and tried to smile. But +suddenly her face was drawn, she pushed him away. + +"Oh, this is awful! I'm dying, I'm dying! Go away!" she +shrieked, and again he heard that unearthly scream. + +Levin clutched at his head and ran out of the room. + +"It's nothing, it's nothing, it's all right," Dolly called after +him. + +But they might say what they liked, he knew now that all was +over. He stood in the next room, his head leaning against the +door post, and heard shrieks, howls such as he had never heard +before, and he knew that what had been Kitty was uttering these +shrieks. He had long ago ceased to wish for the child. By now +he loathed this child. He did not even wish for her life now, +all he longed for was the end of this awful anguish. + +"Doctor! What is it? What is it? By God!" he said, snatching at +the doctor's hand as he came up. + +"It's the end," said the doctor. And the doctor's face was so +grave as he said it that Levin took _the end_ as meaning her death. + +Beside himself, he ran into the bedroom. The first thing he saw +was the face of Lizaveta Petrovna. It was even more frowning and +stern. Kitty's face he did not know. In the place where it had +been was something that was fearful in its strained distortion +and in the sounds that came from it. He fell down with his head +on the wooden framework of the bed, feeling that his heart was +bursting. The awful scream never paused, it became still more +awful, and as though it had reached the utmost limit of terror, +suddenly it ceased. Levin could not believe his ears, but there +could be no doubt; the scream had ceased and he heard a subdued +stir and bustle, and hurried breathing, and her voice, gasping, +alive, tender, and blissful, uttered softly, "It's over!" + +He lifted his head. With her hands hanging exhausted on the +quilt, looking extraordinarily lovely and serene, she looked at +him in silence and tried to smile, and could not. + +And suddenly, from the mysterious and awful far-away world in +which he had been living for the last twenty-two hours, Levin +felt himself all in an instant borne back to the old every-day +world, glorified though now, by such a radiance of happiness that +he could not bear it. The strained chords snapped, sobs and +tears of joy which he had never foreseen rose up with such +violence that his whole body shook, that for long they prevented +him from speaking. + +Falling on his knees before the bed, he held his wife's hand +before his lips and kissed it, and the hand, with a weak movement +of the fingers, responded to his kiss. And meanwhile, there at +the foot of the bed, in the deft hands of Lizaveta Petrovna, like +a flickering light in a lamp, lay the life of a human creature, +which had never existed before, and which would now with the same +right, with the same importance to itself, live and create in its +own image. + +"Alive! alive! And a boy too! Set your mind at rest!" Levin +heard Lizaveta Petrovna saying, as she slapped the baby's back +with a shaking hand. + +"Mamma, is it true?" said Kitty's voice. + +The princess's sobs were all the answers she could make. And in +the midst of the silence there came in unmistakable reply to the +mother's question, a voice quite unlike the subdued voices +speaking in the room. It was the bold, clamorous, self-assertive +squall of the new human being, who had so incomprehensibly +appeared. + +If Levin had been told before that Kitty was dead, and that he +had died with her, and that their children were angels, and that +God was standing before him, he would have been surprised at +nothing. But now, coming back to the world of reality, he had to +make great mental efforts to take in that she was alive and well, +and that the creature squalling so desperately was his son. +Kitty was alive, her agony was over. And he was unutterably +happy. That he understood; he was completely happy in it. But +the baby? Whence, why, who was he?... He could not get used to +the idea. It seemed to him something extraneous, superfluous, to +which he could not accustom himself. + + + +Chapter 16 + + +At ten o'clock the old prince, Sergey Ivanovitch, and Stepan +Arkadyevitch were sitting at Levin's. Having inquired after +Kitty, they had dropped into conversation upon other subjects. +Levin heard them, and unconsciously, as they talked, going over +the past, over what had been up to that morning, he thought of +himself as he had been yesterday till that point. It was as +though a hundred years had passed since then. He felt himself +exalted to unattainable heights, from which he studiously lowered +himself so as not to wound the people he was talking to. He +talked, and was all the time thinking of his wife, of her +condition now, of his son, in whose existence he tried to school +himself into believing. The whole world of woman, which had +taken for him since his marriage a new value he had never +suspected before, was now so exalted that he could not take it in +in his imagination. He heard them talk of yesterday's dinner at +the club, and thought: "What is happening with her now? Is she +asleep? How is she? What is she thinking of? Is he crying, my +son Dmitri?" And in the middle of the conversation, in the +middle of a sentence, he jumped up and went out of the room. + +"Send me word if I can see her," said the prince. + +"Very well, in a minute," answered Levin, and without stopping, +he went to her room. + +She was not asleep, she was talking gently with her mother, +making plans about the christening. + +Carefully set to rights, with hair well-brushed, in a smart +little cap with some blue in it, her arms out on the quilt, she +was lying on her back. Meeting his eyes, her eyes drew him to +her. Her face, bright before, brightened still more as he drew +near her. There was the same change in it from earthly to +unearthly that is seen in the face of the dead. But then it +means farewell, here it meant welcome. Again a rush of emotion, +such as he had felt at the moment of the child's birth, flooded +his heart. She took his hand and asked him if he had slept. He +could not answer, and turned away, struggling with his weakness. + +"I have had a nap, Kostya!" she said to him; "and I am so +comfortable now." + +She looked at him, but suddenly her expression changed. + +"Give him to me," she said, hearing the baby's cry. "Give him to +me, Lizaveta Petrovna, and he shall look at him." + +"To be sure, his papa shall look at him," said Lizaveta Petrovna, +getting up and bringing something red, and queer, and wriggling. +"Wait a minute, we'll make him tidy first," and Lizaveta +Petrovna laid the red wobbling thing on the bed, began untrussing +and trussing up the baby, lifting it up and turning it over with +one finger and powdering it with something. + +Levin, looking at the tiny, pitiful creature, made strenuous +efforts to discover in his heart some traces of fatherly feeling +for it. He felt nothing towards it but disgust. But when it was +undressed and he caught a glimpse of wee, wee, little hands, +little feet, saffron-colored, with little toes, too, and +positively with a little big toe different from the rest, and +when he saw Lizaveta Petrovna closing the wide-open little hands, +as though they were soft springs, and putting them into linen +garments, such pity for the little creature came upon him, and +such terror that she would hurt it, that he held her hand back. + +Lizaveta Petrovna laughed. + +"Don't be frightened, don't be frightened!" + +When the baby had been put to rights and transformed into a firm +doll, Lizaveta Petrovna dandled it as though proud of her +handiwork, and stood a little away so that Levin might see his +son in all his glory. + +Kitty looked sideways in the same direction, never taking her +eyes off the baby. "Give him to me! give him to me!" she said, +and even made as though she would sit up. + +"What are you thinking of, Katerina Alexandrovna, you mustn't +move like that! Wait a minute. I'll give him to you. Here +we're showing papa what a fine fellow we are!" + +And Lizaveta Petrovna, with one hand supporting the wobbling +head, lifted up on the other arm the strange, limp, red creature, +whose head was lost in its swaddling clothes. But it had a nose, +too, and slanting eyes and smacking lips. + +"A splendid baby!" said Lizaveta Petrovna. + +Levin sighed with mortification. This splendid baby excited in +him no feeling but disgust and compassion. It was not at all the +feeling he had looked forward to. + +He turned away while Lizaveta Petrovna put the baby to the +unaccustomed breast. + +Suddenly laughter made him look round. The baby had taken the +breast. + +"Come, that's enough, that's enough!" said Lizaveta Petrovna, but +Kitty would not let the baby go. He fell asleep in her arms. + +"Look, now," said Kitty, turning the baby so that he could see +it. The aged-looking little face suddenly puckered up still more +and the baby sneezed. + +Smiling, hardly able to restrain his tears, Levin kissed his wife +and went out of the dark room. What he felt towards this little +creature was utterly unlike what he had expected. There was +nothing cheerful and joyous in the feeling; on the contrary, it +was a new torture of apprehension. It was the consciousness of a +new sphere of liability to pain. And this sense was so painful +at first, the apprehension lest this helpless creature should +suffer was so intense, that it prevented him from noticing the +strange thrill of senseless joy and even pride that he had felt +when the baby sneezed. + + + +Chapter 17 + + +Stepan Arkadyevitch's affairs were in a very bad way. + +The money for two-thirds of the forest had all been spent +already, and he had borrowed from the merchant in advance at ten +per cent discount, almost all the remaining third. The merchant +would not give more, especially as Darya Alexandrovna, for the +first time that winter insisting on her right to her own +property, had refused to sign the receipt for the payment of the +last third of the forest. All his salary went on household +expenses and in payment of petty debts that could not be put off. +There was positively no money. + +This was unpleasant and awkward, and in Stepan Arkadyevitch's +opinion things could not go on like this. The explanation of the +position was, in his view, to be found in the fact that his +salary was too small. The post he filled had been unmistakably +very good five years ago, but it was so no longer. + +Petrov, the bank director, had twelve thousand; Sventitsky, a +company director, had seventeen thousand; Mitin, who had founded +a bank, received fifty thousand. + +"Clearly I've been napping, and they've overlooked me," Stepan +Arkadyevitch thought about himself. And he began keeping his +eyes and ears open, and towards the end of the winter he had +discovered a very good berth and had formed a plan of attack upon +it, at first from Moscow through aunts, uncles, and friends, and +then, when the matter was well advanced, in the spring, he went +himself to Petersburg. It was one of those snug, lucrative +berths of which there are so many more nowadays than there used +to be, with incomes ranging from one thousand to fifty thousand +roubles. It was the post of secretary of the committee of the +amalgamated agency of the southern railways, and of certain +banking companies. This position, like all such appointments, +called for such immense energy and such varied qualifications, +that it was difficult for them to be found united in any one man. +And since a man combining all the qualifications was not to be +found, it was at least better that the post be filled by an +honest than by a dishonest man. And Stepan Arkadyevitch was not +merely an honest man--unemphatically--in the common acceptation +of the words, he was an honest man--emphatically--in that special +sense which the word has in Moscow, when they talk of an "honest" +politician, an "honest" writer, an "honest" newspaper, an +"honest" institution, an "honest" tendency, meaning not simply +that the man or the institution is not dishonest, but that they +are capable on occasion of taking a line of their own in +opposition to the authorities. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch moved in those circles in Moscow in which +that expression had come into use, was regarded there as an +honest man, and so had more right to this appointment than +others. + +The appointment yielded an income of from seven to ten thousand a +year, and Oblonsky could fill it without giving up his government +position. It was in the hands of two ministers, one lady, and +two Jews, and all these people, though the way had been paved +already with them, Stepan Arkadyevitch had to see in Petersburg. +Besides this business, Stepan Arkadyevitch had promised his +sister Anna to obtain from Karenin a definite answer on the +question of divorce. And begging fifty roubles from Dolly, he +set off for Petersburg. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch sat in Karenin's study listening to his +report on the causes of the unsatisfactory position of Russian +finance, and only waiting for the moment when he would finish to +speak about his own business or about Anna. + +"Yes, that's very true," he said, when Alexey Alexandrovitch took +off the pince-nez, without which he could not read now, and +looked inquiringly at his former brother-in-law, "that's very +true in particular cases, but still the principle of our day is +freedom." + +"Yes, but I lay down another principle, embracing the principle +of freedom," said Alexey Alexandrovitch, with emphasis on the +word "embracing," and he put on his pince-nez again, so as to +read the passage in which this statement was made. And turning +over the beautifully written, wide-margined manuscript, Alexey +Alexandrovitch read aloud over again the conclusive passage. + +"I don't advocate protection for the sake of private interests, +but for the public weal, and for the lower and upper classes +equally," he said, looking over his pince-nez at Oblonsky. "But +_they_ cannot grasp that, _they_ are taken up now with personal +interests, and carried away by phrases." + +Stepan Arkadyevitch knew that when Karenin began to talk of what +_they_ were doing and thinking, the persons who would not accept +his report and were the cause of everything wrong in Russia, that +it was coming near the end. And so now he eagerly abandoned the +principle of free-trade, and fully agreed. Alexey Alexandrovitch +paused, thoughtfully turning over the pages of his manuscript. + +"Oh, by the way," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, "I wanted to ask +you, some time when you see Pomorsky, to drop him a hint that I +should be very glad to get that new appointment of secretary of +the committee of the amalgamated agency of the southern railways +and banking companies." Stepan Arkadyevitch was familiar by now +with the title of the post he coveted, and he brought it out +rapidly without mistake. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch questioned him as to the duties of this new +committee, and pondered. He was considering whether the new +committee would not be acting in some way contrary to the views +he had been advocating. But as the influence of the new +committee was of a very complex nature, and his views were of +very wide application, he could not decide this straight off, and +taking off his pince-nez, he said: + +"Of course, I can mention it to him; but what is your reason +precisely for wishing to obtain the appointment?" + +"It's a good salary, rising to nine thousand, and my means..." + +"Nine thousand!" repeated Alexey Alexandrovitch, and he frowned. +The high figure of the salary made him reflect that on that side +Stepan Arkadyevitch's proposed position ran counter to the main +tendency of his own projects of reform, which always leaned +towards economy. + +"I consider, and I have embodied my views in a note on the +subject, that in our day these immense salaries are evidence of +the unsound economic _assiette_ of our finances." + +"But what's to be done?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch. "Suppose a +bank director gets ten thousand--well, he's worth it; or an +engineer gets twenty thousand--after all, it's a growing thing, +you know!" + +"I assume that a salary is the price paid for a commodity, and it +ought to conform with the law of supply and demand. If the +salary is fixed without any regard for that law, as, for +instance, when I see two engineers leaving college together, both +equally well trained and efficient, and one getting forty +thousand while the other is satisfied with two; or when I see +lawyers and hussars, having no special qualifications, appointed +directors of banking companies with immense salaries, I conclude +that the salary is not fixed in accordance with the law of supply +and demand, but simply through personal interest. And this is an +abuse of great gravity in itself, and one that reacts injuriously +on the government service. I consider..." + +Stepan Arkadyevitch made haste to interrupt his brother-in-law. + +"Yes; but you must agree that it's a new institution of undoubted +utility that's being started. After all, you know, it's a +growing thing! What they lay particular stress on is the thing +being carried on honestly," said Stepan Arkadyevitch with +emphasis. + +But the Moscow significance of the word "honest" was lost on +Alexey Alexandrovitch. + +"Honesty is only a negative qualification," he said. + +"Well, you'll do me a great service, anyway," said Stepan +Arkadyevitch, "by putting in a word to Pomorsky--just in the way +of conversation...." + +"But I fancy it's more in Volgarinov's hands," said Alexey +Alexandrovitch. + +"Volgarinov has fully assented, as far as he's concerned," said +Stepan Arkadyevitch, turning red. Stepan Arkadyevitch reddened +at the mention of that name, because he had been that morning at +the Jew Volgarinov's, and the visit had left an unpleasant +recollection. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch believed most positively that the committee +in which he was trying to get an appointment was a new, genuine, +and honest public body, but that morning when Volgarinov had-- +intentionally, beyond a doubt--kept him two hours waiting with +other petitioners in his waiting room, he had suddenly felt +uneasy. + +Whether he was uncomfortable that he, a descendant of Rurik, +Prince Oblonsky, had been kept for two hours waiting to see a +Jew, or that for the first time in his life he was not following +the example of his ancestors in serving the government, but was +turning off into a new career, anyway he was very uncomfortable. +During those two hours in Volgarinov's waiting room Stepan +Arkadyevitch, stepping jauntily about the room, pulling his +whiskers, entering into conversation with the other petitioners, +and inventing an epigram on his position, assiduously concealed +from others, and even from himself, the feeling he was +experiencing. + +But all the time he was uncomfortable and angry, he could not +have said why--whether because he could not get his epigram just +right, or from some other reason. When at last Volgarinov had +received him with exaggerated politeness and unmistakable triumph +at his humiliation, and had all but refused the favor asked of +him, Stepan Arkadyevitch had made haste to forget it all as soon +as possible. And now, at the mere recollection, he blushed. + + + +Chapter 18 + + +"Now there is something I want to talk about, and you know what +it is. About Anna," Stepan Arkadyevitch said, pausing for a +brief space, and shaking off the unpleasant impression. + +As soon as Oblonsky uttered Anna's name, the face of Alexey +Alexandrovitch was completely transformed; all the life was gone +out of it, and it looked weary and dead. + +"What is it exactly that you want from me?" he said, moving in +his chair and snapping his pince-nez. + +"A definite settlement, Alexey Alexandrovitch, some settlement of +the position. I'm appealing to you" ("not as an injured +husband," Stepan Arkadyevitch was going to say, but afraid of +wrecking his negotiation by this, he changed the words) "not as a +statesman" (which did not sound _a propos_), "but simply as a man, +and a good-hearted man and a Christian. You must have pity on +her," he said. + +"That is, in what way precisely?" Karenin said softly. + +"Yes, pity on her. If you had seen her as I have!--I have been +spending all the winter with her--you would have pity on her. +Her position is awful, simply awful!" + +"I had imagined," answered Alexey Alexandrovitch in a higher, +almost shrill voice, "that Anna Arkadyevna had everything she had +desired for herself." + +"Oh, Alexey Alexandrovitch, for heaven's sake, don't let us +indulge in recriminations! What is past is past, and you know +what she wants and is waiting for--divorce." + +"But I believe Anna Arkadyevna refuses a divorce, if I make it a +condition to leave me my son. I replied in that sense, and +supposed that the matter was ended. I consider it at an end," +shrieked Alexey Alexandrovitch. + +"But, for heaven's sake, don't get hot!" said Stepan +Arkadyevitch, touching his brother-in-law's knee. "The matter is +not ended. If you will allow me to recapitulate, it was like +this: when you parted, you were as magnanimous as could possibly +be; you were ready to give her everything--freedom, divorce even. +She appreciated that. No, don't think that. She did appreciate +it--to such a degree that at the first moment, feeling how she +had wronged you, she did not consider and could not consider +everything. She gave up everything. But experience, time, have +shown that her position is unbearable, impossible." + +"The life of Anna Arkadyevna can have no interest for me," Alexey +Alexandrovitch put in, lifting his eyebrows. + +"Allow me to disbelieve that," Stepan Arkadyevitch replied +gently. "Her position is intolerable for her, and of no benefit +to anyone whatever. She has deserved it, you will say. She +knows that and asks you for nothing; she says plainly that she +dare not ask you. But I, all of us, her relatives, all who love +her, beg you, entreat you. Why should she suffer? Who is any +the better for it?" + +"Excuse me, you seem to put me in the position of the guilty +party," observed Alexey Alexandrovitch. + +"Oh, no, oh, no, not at all! please understand me," said Stepan +Arkadyevitch, touching his hand again, as though feeling sure +this physical contact would soften his brother-in-law. "All I +say is this: her position is intolerable, and it might be +alleviated by you, and you will lose nothing by it. I will +arrange it all for you, so that you'll not notice it. You did +promise it, you know." + +"The promise was given before. And I had supposed that the +question of my son had settled the matter. Besides, I had hoped +that Anna Arkadyevna had enough generosity..." Alexey +Alexandrovitch articulated with difficulty, his lips twitching +and his face white. + +"She leaves it all to your generosity. She begs, she implores +one thing of you--to extricate her from the impossible position +in which she is placed. She does not ask for her son now. +Alexey Alexandrovitch, you are a good man. Put yourself in her +position for a minute. The question of divorce for her in her +position is a question of life and death. If you had not +promised it once, she would have reconciled herself to her +position, she would have gone on living in the country. But you +promised it, and she wrote to you, and moved to Moscow. And here +she's been for six months in Moscow, where every chance meeting +cuts her to the heart, every day expecting an answer. Why, it's +like keeping a condemned criminal for six months with the rope +round his neck, promising him perhaps death, perhaps mercy. Have +pity on her, and I will undertake to arrange everything. _Vos +scrupules_..." + +"I am not talking about that, about that..." Alexey +Alexandrovitch interrupted with disgust. "But, perhaps, I +promised what I had no right to promise." + +"So you go back from your promise?" + +"I have never refused to do all that is possible, but I want time +to consider how much of what I promised is possible." + +"No, Alexey Alexandrovitch!" cried Oblonsky, jumping up, "I won't +believe that! She's unhappy as only an unhappy woman can be, and +you cannot refuse in such..." + +"As much of what I promised as is possible. _Vous professez +d'etre libre penseur._ But I as a believer cannot, in a matter of +such gravity, act in opposition to the Christian law." + +"But in Christian societies and among us, as far as I'm aware, +divorce is allowed," said Stepan Arkadyevitch. "Divorce is +sanctioned even by our church. And we see..." + +"It is allowed, but not in the sense..." + +"Alexey Alexandrovitch, you are not like yourself," said +Oblonsky, after a brief pause. "Wasn't it you (and didn't we all +appreciate it in you?) who forgave everything, and moved simply +by Christian feeling was ready to make any sacrifice? You said +yourself: if a man take thy coat, give him thy cloak also, and +now..." + +"I beg," said Alexey Alexandrovitch shrilly, getting suddenly +onto his feet, his face white and his jaws twitching, "I beg you +to drop this...to drop...this subject!" + +"Oh, no! Oh, forgive me, forgive me if I have wounded you," said +Stepan Arkadyevitch, holding out his hand with a smile of +embarrassment; "but like a messenger I have simply performed the +commission given me." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch gave him his hand, pondered a little, and +said: + +"I must think it over and seek for guidance. The day after +tomorrow I will give you a final answer," he said, after +considering a moment. + + + +Chapter 19 + + +Stepan Arkadyevitch was about to go away when Korney came in to +announce: + +"Sergey Alexyevitch!" + +"Who's Sergey Alexyevitch?" Stepan Arkadyevitch was beginning, +but he remembered immediately. + +"Ah, Seryozha!" he said aloud. "Sergey Alexyevitch! I thought it +was the director of a department. Anna asked me to see him too," +he thought. + +And he recalled the timid, piteous expression with which Anna had +said to him at parting: "Anyway, you will see him. Find out +exactly where he is, who is looking after him. And Stiva...if +it were possible! Could it be possible?" Stepan Arkadyevitch +knew what was meant by that "if it were possible,"--if it were +possible to arrange the divorce so as to let her have her son.... +Stepan Arkadyevitch saw now that it was no good to dream of that, +but still he was glad to see his nephew. + +Alexey Alexandrovitch reminded his brother-in-law that they never +spoke to the boy of his mother, and he begged him not to mention +a single word about her. + +"He was very ill after that interview with his mother, which we +had not foreseen," said Alexey Alexandrovitch. "Indeed, we +feared for his life. But with rational treatment, and +sea-bathing in the summer, he regained his strength, and now, by +the doctor's advice, I have let him go to school. And certainly +the companionship of school has had a good effect on him, and he +is perfectly well, and making good progress." + +"What a fine fellow he's grown! He's not Seryozha now, but quite +full-fledged Sergey Alexyevitch!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, +smiling, as he looked at the handsome, broad-shouldered lad in +blue coat and long trousers, who walked in alertly and +confidently. The boy looked healthy and good-humored. He bowed +to his uncle as to a stranger, but recognizing him, he blushed +and turned hurriedly away from him, as though offended and +irritated at something. The boy went up to his father and handed +him a note of the marks he had gained in school. + +"Well, that's very fair," said his father, "you can go." + +"He's thinner and taller, and has grown out of being a child into +a boy; I like that," said Stepan Arkadyevitch. "Do you remember +me?" + +The boy looked back quickly at his uncle. + +"Yes, _mon oncle_," he answered, glancing at his father, and +again he looked downcast. + +His uncle called him to him, and took his hand. + +"Well, and how are you getting on?" he said, wanting to talk to +him, and not knowing what to say. + +The boy, blushing and making no answer, cautiously drew his hand +away. As soon as Stepan Arkadyevitch let go his hand, he glanced +doubtfully at his father, and like a bird set free, he darted out +of the room. + +A year had passed since the last time Seryozha had seen his +mother. Since then he had heard nothing more of her. And in the +course of that year he had gone to school, and made friends among +his schoolfellows. The dreams and memories of his mother, which +had made him ill after seeing her, did not occupy his thoughts +now. When they came back to him, he studiously drove them away, +regarding them as shameful and girlish, below the dignity of a +boy and a schoolboy. He knew that his father and mother were +separated by some quarrel, he knew that he had to remain with his +father, and he tried to get used to that idea. + +He disliked seeing his uncle, so like his mother, for it called +up those memories of which he was ashamed. He disliked it all +the more as from some words he had caught as he waited at the +study door, and still more from the faces of his father and +uncle, he guessed that they must have been talking of his mother. +And to avoid condemning the father with whom he lived and on whom +he was dependent, and, above all, to avoid giving way to +sentimentality, which he considered so degrading, Seryozha tried +not to look at his uncle who had come to disturb his peace of +mind, and not to think of what he recalled to him. + +But when Stepan Arkadyevitch, going out after him, saw him on the +stairs, and calling to him, asked him how he spent his playtime +at school, Seryozha talked more freely to him away from his +father's presence. + +"We have a railway now," he said in answer to his uncle's +question. "It's like this, do you see: two sit on a bench-- +they're the passengers; and one stands up straight on the bench. +And all are harnessed to it by their arms or by their belts, and +they run through all the rooms--the doors are left open +beforehand. Well, and it's pretty hard work being the +conductor!" + +"That's the one that stands?" Stepan Arkadyevitch inquired, +smiling. + +"Yes, you want pluck for it, and cleverness too, especially when +they stop all of a sudden, or someone falls down." + +"Yes, that must be a serious matter," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, +watching with mournful interest the eager eyes, like his +mother's; not childish now--no longer fully innocent. And though +he had promised Alexey Alexandrovitch not to speak of Anna, he +could not restrain himself. + +"Do you remember your mother?" he asked suddenly. + +"No, I don't," Seryozha said quickly. He blushed crimson, and +his face clouded over. And his uncle could get nothing more out +of him. His tutor found his pupil on the staircase half an hour +later, and for a long while he could not make out whether he was +ill-tempered or crying. + +"What is it? I expect you hurt yourself when you fell down?" +said the tutor. "I told you it was a dangerous game. And we +shall have to speak to the director." + +"If I had hurt myself, nobody should have found it out, that's +certain." + +"Well, what is it, then?" + +"Leave me alone! If I remember, or if I don't remember?...what +business is it of his? Why should I remember? Leave me in +peace!" he said, addressing not his tutor, but the whole world. + + + +Chapter 20 + + +Stepan Arkadyevitch, as usual, did not waste his time in +Petersburg. In Petersburg, besides business, his sister's +divorce, and his coveted appointment, he wanted, as he always +did, to freshen himself up, as he said, after the mustiness of +Moscow. + +In spite of its _cafes chantants_ and its omnibuses, Moscow was +yet a stagnant bog. Stepan Arkadyevitch always felt it. After +living for some time in Moscow, especially in close relations +with his family, he was conscious of a depression of spirits. +After being a long time in Moscow without a change, he reached a +point when he positively began to be worrying himself over his +wife's ill-humor and reproaches, over his children's health and +education, and the petty details of his official work; even the +fact of being in debt worried him. But he had only to go and +stay a little while in Petersburg, in the circle there in which +he moved, where people lived--really lived--instead of vegetating +as in Moscow, and all such ideas vanished and melted away at +once, like wax before the fire. His wife?... Only that day he +had been talking to Prince Tchetchensky. Prince Tchetchensky had +a wife and family, grown-up pages in the corps,...and he had +another illegitimate family of children also. Though the first +family was very nice too, Prince Tchetchensky felt happier in his +second family; and he used to take his eldest son with him to +his second family, and told Stepan Arkadyevitch that he thought +it good for his son, enlarging his ideas. What would have been +said to that in Moscow? + +His children? In Petersburg children did not prevent their +parents from enjoying life. The children were brought up in +schools, and there was no trace of the wild idea that prevailed +in Moscow, in Lvov's household, for instance, that all the +luxuries of life were for the children, while the parents have +nothing but work and anxiety. Here people understood that a man +is in duty bound to live for himself, as every man of culture +should live. + +His official duties? Official work here was not the stiff, +hopeless drudgery that it was in Moscow. Here there was some +interest in official life. A chance meeting, a service rendered, +a happy phrase, a knack of facetious mimicry, and a man's career +might be made in a trice. So it had been with Bryantsev, whom +Stepan Arkadyevitch had met the previous day, and who was one of +the highest functionaries in government now. There was some +interest in official work like that. + +The Petersburg attitude on pecuniary matters had an especially +soothing effect on Stepan Arkadyevitch. Bartnyansky, who must +spend at least fifty thousand to judge by the style he lived in, +had made an interesting comment the day before on that subject. + +As they were talking before dinner, Stepan Arkadyevitch said to +Bartnyansky: + +"You're friendly, I fancy, with Mordvinsky; you might do me a +favor: say a word to him, please, for me. There's an appointment +I should like to get--secretary of the agency..." + +"Oh, I shan't remember all that, if you tell it to me.... But +what possesses you to have to do with railways and Jews?... Take +it as you will, it's a low business." + +Stepan Arkadyevitch did not say to Bartnyansky that it was a +"growing thing"--Bartnyansky would not have understood that. + +"I want the money, I've nothing to live on." + +"You're living, aren't you?" + +"Yes, but in debt." + +"Are you, though? Heavily?" said Bartnyansky sympathetically. + +"Very heavily: twenty thousand." + +Bartnyansky broke into good-humored laughter. + +"Oh, lucky fellow!" said he. "My debts mount up to a million and +a half, and I've nothing, and still I can live, as you see!" + +And Stepan Arkadyevitch saw the correctness of this view not in +words only but in actual fact. Zhivahov owed three hundred +thousand, and hadn't a farthing to bless himself with, and he +lived, and in style too! Count Krivtsov was considered a +hopeless case by everyone, and yet he kept two mistresses. +Petrovsky had run through five millions, and still lived in just +the same style, and was even a manager in the financial +department with a salary of twenty thousand. But besides this, +Petersburg had physically an agreeable effect on Stepan +Arkadyevitch. It made him younger. In Moscow he sometimes found +a gray hair in his head, dropped asleep after dinner, stretched, +walked slowly upstairs, breathing heavily, was bored by the +society of young women, and did not dance at balls. In +Petersburg he always felt ten years younger. + +His experience in Petersburg was exactly what had been described +to him on the previous day by Prince Pyotr Oblonsky, a man of +sixty, who had just come back from abroad: + +"We don't know the way to live here," said Pyotr Oblonsky. "I +spent the summer in Baden, and you wouldn't believe it, I felt +quite a young man. At a glimpse of a pretty woman, my +thoughts.... One dines and drinks a glass of wine, and feels +strong and ready for anything. I came home to Russia--had to see +my wife, and, what's more, go to my country place; and there, +you'd hardly believe it, in a fortnight I'd got into a dressing +gown and given up dressing for dinner. Needn't say I had no +thoughts left for pretty women. I became quite an old gentleman. +There was nothing left for me but to think of my eternal +salvation. I went off to Paris--I was as right as could be at +once." + +Stepan Arkadyevitch felt exactly the difference that Pyotr +Oblonsky described. In Moscow he degenerated so much that if he +had had to be there for long together, he might in good earnest +have come to considering his salvation; in Petersburg he felt +himself a man of the world again. + +Between Princess Betsy Tverskaya and Stepan Arkadyevitch there +had long existed rather curious relations. Stepan Arkadyevitch +always flirted with her in jest, and used to say to her, also in +jest, the most unseemly things, knowing that nothing delighted +her so much. The day after his conversation with Karenin, Stepan +Arkadyevitch went to see her, and felt so youthful that in this +jesting flirtation and nonsense he recklessly went so far that he +did not know how to extricate himself, as unluckily he was so far +from being attracted by her that he thought her positively +disagreeable. What made it hard to change the conversation was +the fact that he was very attractive to her. So that he was +considerably relieved at the arrival of Princess Myakaya, which +cut short their _tete-a-tete_. + +"Ah, so you're here!" said she when she saw him. "Well, and what +news of your poor sister? You needn't look at me like that," she +added. "Ever since they've all turned against her, all those +who're a thousand times worse than she, I've thought she did a +very fine thing. I can't forgive Vronsky for not letting me know +when she was in Petersburg. I'd have gone to see her and gone +about with her everywhere. Please give her my love. Come, tell +me about her." + +"Yes, her position is very difficult; she..." began Stepan +Arkadyevitch, in the simplicity of his heart accepting as +sterling coin Princess Myakaya's words "tell me about her." +Princess Myakaya interrupted him immediately, as she always did, +and began talking herself. + +"She's done what they all do, except me--only they hide it. But +she wouldn't be deceitful, and she did a fine thing. And she did +better still in throwing up that crazy brother-in-law of yours. +You must excuse me. Everybody used to say he was so clever, so +very clever; I was the only one that said he was a fool. Now +that he's so thick with Lidia Ivanovna and Landau, they all say +he's crazy, and I should prefer not to agree with everybody, but +this time I can't help it." + +"Oh, do please explain," said Stepan Arkadyevitch; "what does it +mean? Yesterday I was seeing him on my sister's behalf, and I +asked him to give me a final answer. He gave me no answer, and +said he would think it over. But this morning, instead of an +answer, I received an invitation from Countess Lidia Ivanovna +for this evening." + +"Ah, so that's it, that's it!" said Princess Myakaya gleefully, +"they're going to ask Landau what he's to say." + +"Ask Landau? What for? Who or what's Landau?" + +"What! you don't know Jules Landau, _le fameux Jules Landau, +le clairvoyant_? He's crazy too, but on him your sister's fate +depends. See what comes of living in the provinces--you know +nothing about anything. Landau, do you see, was a _commis_ in +a shop in Paris, and he went to a doctor's; and in the doctor's +waiting room he fell asleep, and in his sleep he began giving +advice to all the patients. And wonderful advice it was! Then +the wife of Yury Meledinsky--you know, the invalid?--heard of +this Landau, and had him to see her husband. And he cured her +husband, though I can't say that I see he did him much good, for +he's just as feeble a creature as ever he was, but they believed +in him, and took him along with them and brought him to Russia. +Here there's been a general rush to him, and he's begun doctoring +everyone. He cured Countess Bezzubova, and she took such a fancy +to him that she adopted him." + +"Adopted him?" + +"Yes, as her son. He's not Landau any more now, but Count +Bezzubov. That's neither here nor there, though; but Lidia--I'm +very fond of her, but she has a screw loose somewhere--has lost +her heart to this Landau now, and nothing is settled now in her +house or Alexey Alexandrovitch's without him, and so your +sister's fate is now in the hands of Landau, _alias_ Count +Bezzubov." + + + +Chapter 21 + + +After a capital dinner and a great deal of cognac drunk at +Bartnyansky's, Stepan Arkadyevitch, only a little later than the +appointed time, went in to Countess Lidia Ivanovna's. + +"Who else is with the countess?--a Frenchman?" Stepan +Arkadyevitch asked the hall porter, as he glanced at the familiar +overcoat of Alexey Alexandrovitch and a queer, rather +artless-looking overcoat with clasps. + +"Alexey Alexandrovitch Karenin and Count Bezzubov," the porter +answered severely. + +"Princess Myakaya guessed right," thought Stepan Arkadyevitch, as +he went upstairs. "Curious! It would be quite as well, though, +to get on friendly terms with her. She has immense influence. +If she would say a word to Pomorsky, the thing would be a +certainty." + +It was still quite light out-of-doors, but in Countess Lidia +Ivanovna's little drawing room the blinds were drawn and the +lamps lighted. At a round table under a lamp sat the countess +and Alexey Alexandrovitch, talking softly. A short, thinnish +man, very pale and handsome, with feminine hips and knock-kneed +legs, with fine brilliant eyes and long hair lying on the collar +of his coat, was standing at the end of the room gazing at the +portraits on the wall. After greeting the lady of the house and +Alexey Alexandrovitch, Stepan Arkadyevitch could not resist +glancing once more at the unknown man. + +"Monsieur Landau!" the countess addressed him with a softness and +caution that impressed Oblonsky. And she introduced them. + +Landau looked round hurriedly, came up, and smiling, laid his +moist, lifeless hand in Stepan Arkadyevitch's outstretched hand +and immediately walked away and fell to gazing at the portraits +again. The countess and Alexey Alexandrovitch looked at each +other significantly. + +"I am very glad to see you, particularly today," said Countess +Lidia Ivanovna, pointing Stepan Arkadyevitch to a seat beside +Karenin. + +"I introduced you to him as Landau," she said in a soft voice, +glancing at the Frenchman and again immediately after at Alexey +Alexandrovitch, "but he is really Count Bezzubov, as you're +probably aware. Only he does not like the title." + +"Yes, I heard so," answered Stepan Arkadyevitch; "they say he +completely cured Countess Bezzubova." + +"She was here today, poor thing!" the countess said, turning to +Alexey Alexandrovitch. "This separation is awful for her. It's +such a blow to her!" + +"And he positively is going?" queried Alexey Alexandrovitch. + +"Yes, he's going to Paris. He heard a voice yesterday," said +Countess Lidia Ivanovna, looking at Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +"Ah, a voice!" repeated Oblonsky, feeling that he must be as +circumspect as he possibly could in this society, where something +peculiar was going on, or was to go on, to which he had not the +key. + +A moment's silence followed, after which Countess Lidia Ivanovna, +as though approaching the main topic of conversation, said with a +fine smile to Oblonsky: + +"I've known you for a long while, and am very glad to make a +closer acquaintance with you. _Les amis de nos amis sont nos +amis._ But to be a true friend, one must enter into the spiritual +state of one's friend, and I fear that you are not doing so in +the case of Alexey Alexandrovitch. You understand what I mean?" +she said, lifting her fine pensive eyes. + +"In part, countess, I understand the position of Alexey +Alexandrovitch..." said Oblonsky. Having no clear idea what they +were talking about, he wanted to confine himself to generalities. + +"The change is not in his external position," Countess Lidia +Ivanovna said sternly, following with eyes of love the figure of +Alexey Alexandrovitch as he got up and crossed over to Landau; +"his heart is changed, a new heart has been vouchsafed him, and +I fear you don't fully apprehend the change that has taken place +in him." + +"Oh, well, in general outlines I can conceive the change. We +have always been friendly, and now..." said Stepan Arkadyevitch, +responding with a sympathetic glance to the expression of the +countess, and mentally balancing the question with which of the +two ministers she was most intimate, so as to know about which to +ask her to speak for him. + +"The change that has taken place in him cannot lessen his love +for his neighbors; on the contrary, that change can only +intensify love in his heart. But I am afraid you do not +understand me. Won't you have some tea?" she said, with her eyes +indicating the footman, who was handing round tea on a tray. + +"Not quite, countess. Of course, his misfortune..." + +"Yes, a misfortune which has proved the highest happiness, when +his heart was made new, was filled full of it," she said, gazing +with eyes full of love at Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +"I do believe I might ask her to speak to both of them," thought +Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +"Oh, of course, countess," he said; "but I imagine such changes +are a matter so private that no one, even the most intimate +friend, would care to speak of them." + +"On the contrary! We ought to speak freely and help one +another." + +"Yes, undoubtedly so, but there is such a difference of +convictions, and besides..." said Oblonsky with a soft smile. + +"There can be no difference where it is a question of holy +truth." + +"Oh, no, of course; but..." and Stepan Arkadyevitch paused in +confusion. He understood at last that they were talking of +religion. + +"I fancy he will fall asleep immediately," said Alexey +Alexandrovitch in a whisper full of meaning, going up to Lidia +Ivanovna. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch looked round. Landau was sitting at the +window, leaning on his elbow and the back of his chair, his head +drooping. Noticing that all eyes were turned on him he raised +his head and smiled a smile of childlike artlessness. + +"Don't take any notice," said Lidia Ivanovna, and she lightly +moved a chair up for Alexey Alexandrovitch. "I have observed..." +she was beginning, when a footman came into the room with a +letter. Lidia Ivanovna rapidly ran her eyes over the note, and +excusing herself, wrote an answer with extraordinary rapidity, +handed it to the man, and came back to the table. "I have +observed," she went on, "that Moscow people, especially the men, +are more indifferent to religion than anyone." + +"Oh, no, countess, I thought Moscow people had the reputation of +being the firmest in the faith," answered Stepan Arkadyevitch. + +"But as far as I can make out, you are unfortunately one of the +indifferent ones," said Alexey Alexandrovitch, turning to him +with a weary smile. + +"How anyone can be indifferent!" said Lidia Ivanovna. + +"I am not so much indifferent on that subject as I am waiting in +suspense," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, with his most deprecating +smile. "I hardly think that the time for such questions has come +yet for me." + +Alexey Alexandrovitch and Lidia Ivanovna looked at each other. + +"We can never tell whether the time has come for us or not," said +Alexey Alexandrovitch severely. "We ought not to think whether +we are ready or not ready. God's grace is not guided by human +considerations: sometimes it comes not to those that strive for +it, and comes to those that are unprepared, like Saul." + +"No, I believe it won't be just yet," said Lidia Ivanovna, who +had been meanwhile watching the movements of the Frenchman. +Landau got up and came to them. + +"Do you allow me to listen?" he asked. + +"Oh, yes; I did not want to disturb you," said Lidia Ivanovna, +gazing tenderly at him; "sit here with us." + +"One has only not to close one's eyes to shut out the light," +Alexey Alexandrovitch went on. + +"Ah, if you knew the happiness we know, feeling His presence ever +in our hearts!" said Countess Lidia Ivanovna with a rapturous +smile. + +"But a man may feel himself unworthy sometimes to rise to that +height," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, conscious of hypocrisy in +admitting this religious height, but at the same time unable to +bring himself to acknowledge his free-thinking views before a +person who, by a single word to Pomorsky, might procure him the +coveted appointment. + +"That is, you mean that sin keeps him back?" said Lidia Ivanovna. +"But that is a false idea. There is no sin for believers, their +sin has been atoned for. _Pardon,_" she added, looking at the +footman, who came in again with another letter. She read it and +gave a verbal answer: "Tomorrow at the Grand Duchess's, say." +"For the believer sin is not," she went on. + +"Yes, but faith without works is dead," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, +recalling the phrase from the catechism, and only by his smile +clinging to his independence. + +"There you have it--from the epistle of St. James," said Alexey +Alexandrovitch, addressing Lidia Ivanovna, with a certain +reproachfulness in his tone. It was unmistakably a subject they +had discussed more than once before. "What harm has been done by +the false interpretation of that passage! Nothing holds men back +from belief like that misinterpretation. 'I have not works, so I +cannot believe,' though all the while that is not said. But the +very opposite is said." + +"Striving for God, saving the soul by fasting," said Countess +Lidia Ivanovna, with disgusted contempt, "those are the crude +ideas of our monks.... Yet that is nowhere said. It is far +simpler and easier," she added, looking at Oblonsky with the same +encouraging smile with which at court she encouraged youthful +maids of honor, disconcerted by the new surroundings of the +court. + +"We are saved by Christ who suffered for us. We are saved by +faith," Alexey Alexandrovitch chimed in, with a glance of +approval at her words. + +_"Vous comprenez l'anglais?"_ asked Lidia Ivanovna, and receiving +a reply in the affirmative, she got up and began looking through +a shelf of books. + +"I want to read him 'Safe and Happy,' or 'Under the Wing,'" she +said, looking inquiringly at Karenin. And finding the book, and +sitting down again in her place, she opened it. "It's very +short. In it is described the way by which faith can be reached, +and the happiness, above all earthly bliss, with which it fills +the soul. The believer cannot be unhappy because he is not +alone. But you will see." She was just settling herself to read +when the footman came in again. "Madame Borozdina? Tell her, +tomorrow at two o'clock. Yes," she said, putting her finger in +the place in the book, and gazing before her with her fine +pensive eyes, "that is how true faith acts. You know Marie +Sanina? You know about her trouble? She lost her only child. +She was in despair. And what happened? She found this +comforter, and she thanks God now for the death of her child. +Such is the happiness faith brings!" + +"Oh, yes, that is most..." said Stepan Arkadyevitch, glad they +were going to read, and let him have a chance to collect his +faculties. "No, I see I'd better not ask her about anything +today," he thought. "If only I can get out of this without +putting my foot in it!" + +"It will be dull for you," said Countess Lidia Ivanovna, +addressing Landau; "you don't know English, but it's short." + +"Oh, I shall understand," said Landau, with the same smile, and +he closed his eyes. Alexey Alexandrovitch and Lidia Ivanovna +exchanged meaningful glances, and the reading began. + + + +Chapter 22 + + +Stepan Arkadyevitch felt completely nonplussed by the strange +talk which he was hearing for the first time. The complexity of +Petersburg, as a rule, had a stimulating effect on him, rousing +him out of his Moscow stagnation. But he liked these +complications, and understood them only in the circles he knew +and was at home in. In these unfamiliar surroundings he was +puzzled and disconcerted, and could not get his bearings. As he +listened to Countess Lidia Ivanovna, aware of the beautiful, +artless--or perhaps artful, he could not decide which--eyes of +Landau fixed upon him, Stepan Arkadyevitch began to be conscious +of a peculiar heaviness in his head. + +The most incongruous ideas were in confusion in his head. "Marie +Sanina is glad her child's dead.... How good a smoke would be +now!... To be saved, one need only believe, and the monks +don't know how the thing's to be done, but Countess Lidia +Ivanovna does know.... And why is my head so heavy? Is it the +cognac, or all this being so queer? Anyway, I fancy I've done +nothing unsuitable so far. But anyway, it won't do to ask her +now. They say they make one say one's prayers. I only hope +they won't make me! That'll be too imbecile. And what stuff it +is she's reading! but she has a good accent. Landau--Bezzubov-- +what's he Bezzubov for?" All at once Stepan Arkadyevitch became +aware that his lower jaw was uncontrollably forming a yawn. He +pulled his whiskers to cover the yawn, and shook himself +together. But soon after he became aware that he was dropping +asleep and on the very point of snoring. He recovered himself at +the very moment when the voice of Countess Lidia Ivanovna was +saying "he's asleep." Stepan Arkadyevitch started with dismay, +feeling guilty and caught. But he was reassured at once by +seeing that the words "he's asleep" referred not to him, but to +Landau. The Frenchman was asleep as well as Stepan Arkadyevitch. +But Stepan Arkadyevitch's being asleep would have offended them, +as he thought (though even this, he thought, might not be so, as +everything seemed so queer), while Landau's being asleep +delighted them extremely, especially Countess Lidia Ivanovna. + +_"Mon ami,"_ said Lidia Ivanovna, carefully holding the folds of +her silk gown so as not to rustle, and in her excitement calling +Karenin not Alexey Alexandrovitch, but _"mon ami," "donnez-lui la +main. Vous voyez? Sh!"_ she hissed at the footman as he came in +again. "Not at home." + +The Frenchman was asleep, or pretending to be asleep, with his +head on the back of his chair, and his moist hand, as it lay on +his knee, made faint movements, as though trying to catch +something. Alexey Alexandrovitch got up, tried to move +carefully, but stumbled against the table, went up and laid his +hand in the Frenchman's hand. Stepan Arkadyevitch got up too, +and opening his eyes wide, trying to wake himself up if he were +asleep, he looked first at one and then at the other. It was all +real. Stepan Arkadyevitch felt that his head was getting worse +and worse. + +_"Que la personne qui est arrivee la derniere, celle qui demande, +qu'elle sorte! Qu'elle sorte!"_ articulated the Frenchman, +without opening his eyes. + +_"Vous m'excuserez, mais vous voyez.... Revenez vers dix heures, +encore mieux demain."_ + +_"Qu'elle sorte!"_ repeated the Frenchman impatiently. + +_"C'est moi, n'est-ce pas?"_ And receiving an answer in the +affirmative, Stepan Arkadyevitch, forgetting the favor he had +meant to ask of Lidia Ivanovna, and forgetting his sister's +affairs, caring for nothing, but filled with the sole desire to +get away as soon as possible, went out on tiptoe and ran out into +the street as though from a plague-stricken house. For a long +while he chatted and joked with his cab-driver, trying to recover +his spirits. + +At the French theater where he arrived for the last act, and +afterwards at the Tatar restaurant after his champagne, Stepan +Arkadyevitch felt a little refreshed in the atmosphere he was +used to. But still he felt quite unlike himself all that +evening. + +On getting home to Pyotr Oblonsky's, where he was staying, Stepan +Arkadyevitch found a note from Betsy. She wrote to him that she +was very anxious to finish their interrupted conversation, and +begged him to come next day. He had scarcely read this note, and +frowned at its contents, when he heard below the ponderous tramp +of the servants, carrying something heavy. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch went out to look. It was the rejuvenated +Pyotr Oblonsky. He was so drunk that he could not walk upstairs; +but he told them to set him on his legs when he saw Stepan +Arkadyevitch, and clinging to him, walked with him into his room +and there began telling him how he had spent the evening, and +fell asleep doing so. + +Stepan Arkadyevitch was in very low spirits, which happened +rarely with him, and for a long while he could not go to sleep. +Everything he could recall to his mind, everything was +disgusting; but most disgusting of all, as if it were something +shameful, was the memory of the evening he had spent at Countess +Lidia Ivanovna's. + +Next day he received from Alexey Alexandrovitch a final answer, +refusing to grant Anna's divorce, and he understood that this +decision was based on what the Frenchman had said in his real or +pretended trance. + + + +Chapter 23 + + +In order to carry through any undertaking in family life, there +must necessarily be either complete division between the husband +and wife, or loving agreement. When the relations of a couple +are vacillating and neither one thing nor the other, no sort of +enterprise can be undertaken. + +Many families remain for years in the same place, though both +husband and wife are sick of it, simply because there is neither +complete division nor agreement between them. + +Both Vronsky and Anna felt life in Moscow insupportable in the +heat and dust, when the spring sunshine was followed by the glare +of summer, and all the trees in the boulevards had long since +been in full leaf, and the leaves were covered with dust. But +they did not go back to Vozdvizhenskoe, as they had arranged to +do long before; they went on staying in Moscow, though they both +loathed it, because of late there had been no agreement between +them. + +The irritability that kept them apart had no external cause, and +all efforts to come to an understanding intensified it, instead +of removing it. It was an inner irritation, grounded in her mind +on the conviction that his love had grown less; in his, on regret +that he had put himself for her sake in a difficult position, +which she, instead of lightening, made still more difficult. +Neither of them gave full utterance to their sense of grievance, +but they considered each other in the wrong, and tried on every +pretext to prove this to one another. + +In her eyes the whole of him, with all his habits, ideas, +desires, with all his spiritual and physical temperament, was one +thing--love for women, and that love, she felt, ought to be +entirely concentrated on her alone. That love was less; +consequently, as she reasoned, he must have transferred part of +his love to other women or to another woman--and she was jealous. +She was jealous not of any particular woman but of the decrease +of his love. Not having got an object for her jealousy, she was +on the lookout for it. At the slightest hint she transferred her +jealousy from one object to another. At one time she was jealous +of those low women with whom he might so easily renew his old +bachelor ties; then she was jealous of the society women he might +meet; then she was jealous of the imaginary girl whom he might +want to marry, for whose sake he would break with her. And this +last form of jealousy tortured her most of all, especially as he +had unwarily told her, in a moment of frankness, that his mother +knew him so little that she had had the audacity to try and +persuade him to marry the young Princess Sorokina. + +And being jealous of him, Anna was indignant against him and +found grounds for indignation in everything. For everything that +was difficult in her position she blamed him. The agonizing +condition of suspense she had passed in Moscow, the tardiness and +indecision of Alexey Alexandrovitch, her solitude--she put it all +down to him. If he had loved her he would have seen all the +bitterness of her position, and would have rescued her from it. +For her being in Moscow and not in the country, he was to blame +too. He could not live buried in the country as she would have +liked to do. He must have society, and he had put her in this +awful position, the bitterness of which he would not see. And +again, it was his fault that she was forever separated from her +son. + +Even the rare moments of tenderness that came from time to time +did not soothe her; in his tenderness now she saw a shade of +complacency, of self-confidence, which had not been of old, +and which exasperated her. + +It was dusk. Anna was alone, and waiting for him to come back +from a bachelor dinner. She walked up and down in his study (the +room where the noise from the street was least heard), and +thought over every detail of their yesterday's quarrel. Going +back from the well-remembered, offensive words of the quarrel to +what had been the ground of it, she arrived at last at its +origin. For a long while she could hardly believe that their +dissension had arisen from a conversation so inoffensive, of so +little moment to either. But so it actually had been. It all +arose from his laughing at the girls' high schools, declaring +they were useless, while she defended them. He had spoken +slightingly of women's education in general, and had said that +Hannah, Anna's English protegee, had not the slightest need to +know anything of physics. + +This irritated Anna. She saw in this a contemptuous reference to +her occupations. And she bethought her of a phrase to pay him +back for the pain he had given her. "I don't expect you to +understand me, my feelings, as anyone who loved me might, but +simple delicacy I did expect," she said. + +And he had actually flushed with vexation, and had said something +unpleasant. She could not recall her answer, but at that point, +with an unmistakable desire to wound her too, he had said: + +"I feel no interest in your infatuation over this girl, that's +true, because I see it's unnatural." + +The cruelty with which he shattered the world she had built up +for herself so laboriously to enable her to endure her hard life, +the injustice with which he had accused her of affectation, of +artificiality, aroused her. + +"I am very sorry that nothing but what's coarse and material is +comprehensible and natural to you," she said and walked out of +the room. + +When he had come in to her yesterday evening, they had not +referred to the quarrel, but both felt that the quarrel had been +smoothed over, but was not at an end. + +Today he had not been at home all day, and she felt so lonely +and wretched in being on bad terms with him that she wanted to +forget it all, to forgive him, and be reconciled with him; she +wanted to throw the blame on herself and to justify him. + +"I am myself to blame. I'm irritable, I'm insanely jealous. I +will make it up with him, and we'll go away to the country; there +I shall be more at peace." + +"Unnatural!" She suddenly recalled the word that had stung her +most of all, not so much the word itself as the intent to wound +her with which it was said. "I know what he meant; he meant-- +unnatural, not loving my own daughter, to love another person's +child. What does he know of love for children, of my love for +Seryozha, whom I've sacrificed for him? But that wish to wound +me! No, he loves another woman, it must be so." + +And perceiving that, while trying to regain her peace of mind, +she had gone round the same circle that she had been round so +often before, and had come back to her former state of +exasperation, she was horrified at herself. "Can it be +impossible? Can it be beyond me to control myself?" she said to +herself, and began again from the beginning. "He's truthful, +he's honest, he loves me. I love him, and in a few days the +divorce will come. What more do I want? I want peace of mind +and trust, and I will take the blame on myself. Yes, now when he +comes in, I will tell him I was wrong, though I was not wrong, +and we will go away tomorrow." + +And to escape thinking any more, and being overcome by +irritability, she rang, and ordered the boxes to be brought up +for packing their things for the country. + +At ten o'clock Vronsky came in. + + + +Chapter 24 + + +"Well, was it nice?" she asked, coming out to meet him with a +penitent and meek expression. + +"Just as usual," he answered, seeing at a glance that she was in +one of her good moods. He was used by now to these transitions, +and he was particularly glad to see it today, as he was in a +specially good humor himself. + +"What do I see? Come, that's good!" he said, pointing to the +boxes in the passage. + +"Yes, we must go. I went out for a drive, and it was so fine I +longed to be in the country. There's nothing to keep you, is +there?" + +"It's the one thing I desire. I'll be back directly, and we'll +talk it over; I only want to change my coat. Order some tea." + +And he went into his room. + +There was something mortifying in the way he had said "Come, +that's good," as one says to a child when it leaves off being +naughty, and still more mortifying was the contrast between her +penitent and his self-confident tone; and for one instant she +felt the lust of strife rising up in her again, but making an +effort she conquered it, and met Vronsky as good-humoredly as +before. + +When he came in she told him, partly repeating phrases she had +prepared beforehand, how she had spent the day, and her plans for +going away. + +"You know it came to me almost like an inspiration," she said. +"Why wait here for the divorce? Won't it be just the same in the +country? I can't wait any longer! I don't want to go on hoping, +I don't want to hear anything about the divorce. I have made up +my mind it shall not have any more influence on my life. Do you +agree?" + +"Oh, yes!" he said, glancing uneasily at her excited face. + +"What did you do? Who was there?" she said, after a pause. + +Vronsky mentioned the names of the guests. "The dinner was +first rate, and the boat race, and it was all pleasant enough, +but in Moscow they can never do anything without something +_ridicule_. A lady of a sort appeared on the scene, teacher of +swimming to the Queen of Sweden, and gave us an exhibition of her +skill." + +"How? did she swim?" asked Anna, frowning. + +"In an absurd red _costume de natation;_ she was old and hideous +too. So when shall we go?" + +"What an absurd fancy! Why, did she swim in some special way, +then?" said Anna, not answering. + +"There was absolutely nothing in it. That's just what I say, it +was awfully stupid. Well, then, when do you think of going?" + +Anna shook her head as though trying to drive away some +unpleasant idea. + +"When? Why, the sooner the better! By tomorrow we shan't be +ready. The day after tomorrow." + +"Yes...oh, no, wait a minute! The day after to-morrow's Sunday, +I have to be at maman's," said Vronsky, embarrassed, because as +soon as he uttered his mother's name he was aware of her intent, +suspicious eyes. His embarrassment confirmed her suspicion. She +flushed hotly and drew away from him. It was now not the Queen +of Sweden's swimming-mistress who filled Anna's imagination, but +the young Princess Sorokina. She was staying in a village near +Moscow with Countess Vronskaya. + +"Can't you go tomorrow?" she said. + +"Well, no! The deeds and the money for the business I'm going +there for I can't get by tomorrow," he answered. + +"If so, we won't go at all." + +"But why so?" + +"I shall not go later. Monday or never!" + +"What for?" said Vronsky, as though in amazement. "Why, there's +no meaning in it!" + +"There's no meaning in it to you, because you care nothing for +me. You don't care to understand my life. The one thing that I +cared for here was Hannah. You say it's affectation. Why, you +said yesterday that I don't love my daughter, that I love this +English girl, that it's unnatural. I should like to know what +life there is for me that could be natural!" + +For an instant she had a clear vision of what she was doing, and +was horrified at how she had fallen away from her resolution. +But even though she knew it was her own ruin, she could not +restrain herself, could not keep herself from proving to him that +he was wrong, could not give way to him. + +"I never said that; I said I did not sympathize with this sudden +passion." + +"How is it, though you boast of your straightforwardness, you +don't tell the truth?" + +"I never boast, and I never tell lies," he said slowly, +restraining his rising anger. "It's a great pity if you can't +respect..." + +"Respect was invented to cover the empty place where love should +be. And if you don't love me any more, it would be better and +more honest to say so." + +"No, this is becoming unbearable!" cried Vronsky, getting up from +his chair; and stopping short, facing her, he said, speaking +deliberately: "What do you try my patience for?" looking as +though he might have said much more, but was restraining himself. +"It has limits." + +"What do you mean by that?" she cried, looking with terror at the +undisguised hatred in his whole face, and especially in his +cruel, menacing eyes. + +"I mean to say..." he was beginning, but he checked himself. "I +must ask what it is you want of me?" + +"What can I want? All I can want is that you should not desert +me, as you think of doing," she said, understanding all he had +not uttered. "But that I don't want; that's secondary. I want +love, and there is none. So then all is over." + +She turned towards the door. + +"Stop! sto-op!" said Vronsky, with no change in the gloomy lines +of his brows, though he held her by the hand. "What is it all +about? I said that we must put off going for three days, and on +that you told me I was lying, that I was not an honorable man." + +"Yes, and I repeat that the man who reproaches me with having +sacrificed everything for me," she said, recalling the words of a +still earlier quarrel, "that he's worse than a dishonorable man-- +he's a heartless man." + +"Oh, there are limits to endurance!" he cried, and hastily let go +her hand. + +"He hates me, that's clear," she thought, and in silence, without +looking round, she walked with faltering steps out of the room. +"He loves another woman, that's even clearer," she said to +herself as she went into her own room. "I want love, and there +is none. So, then, all is over." She repeated the words she had +said, "and it must be ended." + +"But how?" she asked herself, and she sat down in a low chair +before the looking glass. + +Thoughts of where she would go now, whether to the aunt who had +brought her up, to Dolly, or simply alone abroad, and of what +_he_ was doing now alone in his study; whether this was the final +quarrel, or whether reconciliation were still possible; and of +what all her old friends at Petersburg would say of her now; and +of how Alexey Alexandrovitch would look at it, and many other +ideas of what would happen now after this rupture, came into her +head; but she did not give herself up to them with all her heart. +At the bottom of her heart was some obscure idea that alone +interested her, but she could not get clear sight of it. +Thinking once more of Alexey Alexandrovitch, she recalled the +time of her illness after her confinement, and the feeling which +never left her at that time. "Why didn't I die?" and the words +and the feeling of that time came back to her. And all at once +she knew what was in her soul. Yes, it was that idea which alone +solved all. "Yes, to die!... And the shame and disgrace of +Alexey Alexandrovitch and of Seryozha, and my awful shame, it +will all be saved by death. To die! and he will feel remorse; +will be sorry; will love me; he will suffer on my account." With +the trace of a smile of commiseration for herself she sat down in +the armchair, taking off and putting on the rings on her left +hand, vividly picturing from different sides his feelings after +her death. + +Approaching footsteps--his steps--distracted her attention. As +though absorbed in the arrangement of her rings, she did not even +turn to him. + +He went up to her, and taking her by the hand, said softly: + +"Anna, we'll go the day after tomorrow, if you like. I agree +to everything." + +She did not speak. + +"What is it?" he urged. + +"You know," she said, and at the same instant, unable to restrain +herself any longer, she burst into sobs. + +"Cast me off!" she articulated between her sobs. "I'll go away +tomorrow...I'll do more. What am I? An immoral woman! A stone +round your neck. I don't want to make you wretched, I don't want +to! I'll set you free. You don't love me; you love someone +else!" + +Vronsky besought her to be calm, and declared that there was no +trace of foundation for her jealousy; that he had never ceased, +and never would cease, to love her; that he loved her more than +ever. + +"Anna, why distress yourself and me so?" he said to her, kissing +her hands. There was tenderness now in his face, and she fancied +she caught the sound of tears in his voice, and she felt them wet +on her hand. And instantly Anna's despairing jealousy changed to +a despairing passion of tenderness. She put her arms round him, +and covered with kisses his head, his neck, his hands. + + + +Chapter 25 + + +Feeling that the reconciliation was complete, Anna set eagerly +to work in the morning preparing for their departure. Though it +was not settled whether they should go on Monday or Tuesday, as +they had each given way to the other, Anna packed busily, feeling +absolutely indifferent whether they went a day earlier or later. +She was standing in her room over an open box, taking things out +of it, when he came in to see her earlier than usual, dressed +to go out. + +"I'm going off at once to see maman; she can send me the money by +Yegorov. And I shall be ready to go tomorrow," he said. + +Though she was in such a good mood, the thought of his visit to +his mother's gave her a pang. + +"No, I shan't be ready by then myself," she said; and at once +reflected, "so then it was possible to arrange to do as I +wished." "No, do as you meant to do. Go into the dining room, +I'm coming directly. It's only to turn out those things that +aren't wanted," she said, putting something more on the heap of +frippery that lay in Annushka's arms. + +Vronsky was eating his beefsteak when she came into the dining- +room. + +"You wouldn't believe how distasteful these rooms have become to +me," she said, sitting down beside him to her coffee. "There's +nothing more awful than these _chambres garnies_. There's no +individuality in them, no soul. These clocks, and curtains, and, +worst of all, the wallpapers--they're a nightmare. I think of +Vozdvizhenskoe as the promised land. You're not sending the +horses off yet?" + +"No, they will come after us. Where are you going to?" + +"I wanted to go to Wilson's to take some dresses to her. So it's +really to be tomorrow?" she said in a cheerful voice; but +suddenly her face changed. + +Vronsky's valet came in to ask him to sign a receipt for a +telegram from Petersburg. There was nothing out of the way in +Vronsky's getting a telegram, but he said, as though anxious to +conceal something from her, that the receipt was in his study, +and he turned hurriedly to her. + +"By tomorrow, without fail, I will finish it all." + +"From whom is the telegram?" she asked, not hearing him. + +"From Stiva," he answered reluctantly. + +"Why didn't you show it to me? What secret can there be between +Stiva and me?" + +Vronsky called the valet back, and told him to bring the +telegram. + +"I didn't want to show it to you, because Stiva has such a +passion for telegraphing: why telegraph when nothing is settled?" + +"About the divorce?" + +"Yes; but he says he has not been able to come at anything yet. +He has promised a decisive answer in a day or two. But here it +is; read it." + +With trembling hands Anna took the telegram, and read what +Vronsky had told her. At the end was added: "Little hope; but +I will do everything possible and impossible." + +"I said yesterday that it's absolutely nothing to me when I get, +or whether I never get, a divorce," she said, flushing crimson. +"There was not the slightest necessity to hide it from me." "So +he may hide and does hide his correspondence with women from me," +she thought. + +"Yashvin meant to come this morning with Voytov," said Vronsky; +"I believe he's won from Pyevtsov all and more than he can pay, +about sixty thousand." + +"No," she said, irritated by his so obviously showing by this +change of subject that he was irritated, "why did you suppose +that this news would affect me so, that you must even try to +hide it? I said I don't want to consider it, and I should have +liked you to care as little about it as I do." + +"I care about it because I like definiteness," he said. + +"Definiteness is not in the form but the love," she said, more +and more irritated, not by his words, but by the tone of cool +composure in which he spoke. "What do you want it for?" + +"My God! love again," he thought, frowning. + +"Oh, you know what for; for your sake and your children's in the +future." + +"There won't be children in the future." + +"That's a great pity," he said. + +"You want it for the children's sake, but you don't think of me?" +she said, quite forgetting or not having heard that he had said, +"_for your sake_ and the children's." + +The question of the possibility of having children had long been +a subject of dispute and irritation to her. His desire to have +children she interpreted as a proof he did not prize her beauty. + +"Oh, I said: for your sake. Above all for your sake," he +repeated, frowning as though in pain, "because I am certain that +the greater part of your irritability comes from the +indefiniteness of the position." + +"Yes, now he has laid aside all pretense, and all his cold hatred +for me is apparent," she thought, not hearing his words, but +watching with terror the cold, cruel judge who looked mocking her +out of his eyes. + +"The cause is not that," she said, "and, indeed, I don't see how +the cause of my irritability, as you call it, can be that I am +completely in your power. What indefiniteness is there in the +position? on the contrary..." + +"I am very sorry that you don't care to understand," he +interrupted, obstinately anxious to give utterance to his +thought. "The indefiniteness consists in your imagining that I +am free." + +"On that score you can set your mind quite at rest," she said, +and turning away from him, she began drinking her coffee. + +She lifted her cup, with her little finger held apart, and put it +to her lips. After drinking a few sips she glanced at him, and +by his expression, she saw clearly that he was repelled by her +hand, and her gesture, and the sound made by her lips. + +"I don't care in the least what your mother thinks, and what +match she wants to make for you," she said, putting the cup down +with a shaking hand. + +"But we are not talking about that." + +"Yes, that's just what we are talking about. And let me tell you +that a heartless woman, whether she's old or not old, your mother +or anyone else, is of no consequence to me, and I would not +consent to know her." + +"Anna, I beg you not to speak disrespectfully of my mother." + +"A woman whose heart does not tell her where her son's happiness +and honor lie has no heart." + +"I repeat my request that you will not speak disrespectfully of +my mother, whom I respect," he said, raising his voice and +looking sternly at her. + +She did not answer. Looking intently at him, at his face, his +hands, she recalled all the details of their reconciliation the +previous day, and his passionate caresses. "There, just such +caresses he has lavished, and will lavish, and longs to lavish on +other women!" she thought. + +"You don't love your mother. That's all talk, and talk, and +talk!" she said, looking at him with hatred in her eyes. + +"Even if so, you must..." + +"Must decide, and I have decided," she said, and she would have +gone away, but at that moment Yashvin walked into the room. Anna +greeted him and remained. + +Why, when there was a tempest in her soul, and she felt she was +standing at a turning point in her life, which might have fearful +consequences--why, at that minute, she had to keep up appearances +before an outsider, who sooner or later must know it all--she did +not know. But at once quelling the storm within her, she sat +down and began talking to their guest. + +"Well, how are you getting on? Has your debt been paid you?" she +asked Yashvin. + +"Oh, pretty fair; I fancy I shan't get it all, but I shall get a +good half. And when are you off?" said Yashvin, looking at +Vronsky, and unmistakably guessing at a quarrel. + +"The day after tomorrow, I think," said Vronsky. + +"You've been meaning to go so long, though." + +"But now it's quite decided," said Anna, looking Vronsky straight +in the face with a look which told him not to dream of the +possibility of reconciliation. + +"Don't you feel sorry for that unlucky Pyevtsov?" she went on, +talking to Yashvin. + +"I've never asked myself the question, Anna Arkadyevna, whether +I'm sorry for him or not. You see, all my fortune's here"--he +touched his breast pocket--"and just now I'm a wealthy man. But +today I'm going to the club, and I may come out a beggar. You +see, whoever sits down to play with me--he wants to leave me +without a shirt to my back, and so do I him. And so we fight it +out, and that's the pleasure of it." + +"Well, but suppose you were married," said Anna, "how would it be +for your wife?" + +Yashvin laughed. + +"That's why I'm not married, and never mean to be." + +"And Helsingfors?" said Vronsky, entering into the conversation +and glancing at Anna's smiling face. Meeting his eyes, Anna's +face instantly took a coldly severe expression as though she were +saying to him: "It's not forgotten. It's all the same." + +"Were you really in love?" she said to Yashvin. + +"Oh heavens! ever so many times! But you see, some men can play +but only so that they can always lay down their cards when the +hour of a _rendezvous_ comes, while I can take up love, but only +so as not to be late for my cards in the evening. That's how I +manage things." + +"No, I didn't mean that, but the real thing." She would have +said _Helsingfors_, but would not repeat the word used by Vronsky. + +Voytov, who was buying the horse, came in. Anna got up and went +out of the room. + +Before leaving the house, Vronsky went into her room. She would +have pretended to be looking for something on the table, but +ashamed of making a pretense, she looked straight in his face +with cold eyes. + +"What do you want?" she asked in French. + +"To get the guarantee for Gambetta, I've sold him," he said, in a +tone which said more clearly than words, "I've no time for +discussing things, and it would lead to nothing." + +"I'm not to blame in any way," he thought. "If she will punish +herself, _tant pis pour elle._" But as he was going he fancied +that she said something, and his heart suddenly ached with pity +for her. + +"Eh, Anna?" he queried. + +"I said nothing," she answered just as coldly and calmly. + +"Oh, nothing, tant pis then," he thought, feeling cold again, and +he turned and went out. As he was going out he caught a glimpse +in the looking glass of her face, white, with quivering lips. He +even wanted to stop and to say some comforting word to her, but +his legs carried him out of the room before he could think what +to say. The whole of that day he spent away from home, and when +he came in late in the evening the maid told him that Anna +Arkadyevna had a headache and begged him not to go in to her. + + + +Chapter 26 + + +Never before had a day been passed in quarrel. Today was the +first time. And this was not a quarrel. It was the open +acknowledgment of complete coldness. Was it possible to glance +at her as he had glanced when he came into the room for the +guarantee?--to look at her, see her heart was breaking with +despair, and go out without a word with that face of callous +composure? He was not merely cold to her, he hated her because +he loved another woman--that was clear. + +And remembering all the cruel words he had said, Anna supplied, +too, the words that he had unmistakably wished to say and could +have said to her, and she grew more and more exasperated. + +"I won't prevent you," he might say. "You can go where you like. +You were unwilling to be divorced from your husband, no doubt so +that you might go back to him. Go back to him. If you want +money, I'll give it to you. How many roubles do you want?" + +All the most cruel words that a brutal man could say, he said to +her in her imagination, and she could not forgive him for them, +as though he had actually said them. + +"But didn't he only yesterday swear he loved me, he, a truthful +and sincere man? Haven't I despaired for nothing many times +already?" she said to herself afterwards. + +All that day, except for the visit to Wilson's, which occupied +two hours, Anna spent in doubts whether everything were over or +whether there were still hope of reconciliation, whether she +should go away at once or see him once more. She was expecting +him the whole day, and in the evening, as she went to her own +room, leaving a message for him that her head ached, she said to +herself, "If he comes in spite of what the maid says, it means +that he loves me still. If not, it means that all is over, and +then I will decide what I'm to do!..." + +In the evening she heard the rumbling of his carriage stop at the +entrance, his ring, his steps and his conversation with the +servant; he believed what was told him, did not care to find out +more, and went to his own room. So then everything was over. + +And death rose clearly and vividly before her mind as the sole +means of bringing back love for her in his heart, of punishing +him and of gaining the victory in that strife which the evil +spirit in possession of her heart was waging with him. + +Now nothing mattered: going or not going to Vozdvizhenskoe, +getting or not getting a divorce from her husband--all that did +not matter. The one thing that mattered was punishing him. When +she poured herself out her usual dose of opium, and thought that +she had only to drink off the whole bottle to die, it seemed to +her so simple and easy, that she began musing with enjoyment on +how he would suffer, and repent and love her memory when it would +be too late. She lay in bed with open eyes, by the light of a +single burned-down candle, gazing at the carved cornice of the +ceiling and at the shadow of the screen that covered part of it, +while she vividly pictured to herself how he would feel when she +would be no more, when she would be only a memory to him. "How +could I say such cruel things to her?" he would say. "How could +I go out of the room without saying anything to her? But now she +is no more. She has gone away from us forever. She is...." +Suddenly the shadow of the screen wavered, pounced on the whole +cornice, the whole ceiling; other shadows from the other side +swooped to meet it, for an instant the shadows flitted back, but +then with fresh swiftness they darted forward, wavered, +commingled, and all was darkness. "Death!" she thought. And +such horror came upon her that for a long while she could not +realize where she was, and for a long while her trembling hands +could not find the matches and light another candle, instead of +the one that had burned down and gone out. "No, anything--only +to live! Why, I love him! Why, he loves me! This has been +before and will pass," she said, feeling that tears of joy at the +return to life were trickling down her cheeks. And to escape +from her panic she went hurriedly to his room. + +He was asleep there, and sleeping soundly. She went up to him, +and holding the light above his face, she gazed a long while at +him. Now when he was asleep, she loved him so that at the sight +of him she could not keep back tears of tenderness. But she knew +that if he waked up he would look at her with cold eyes, +convinced that he was right, and that before telling him of her +love, she would have to prove to him that he had been wrong in +his treatment of her. Without waking him, she went back, and +after a second dose of opium she fell towards morning into a +heavy, incomplete sleep, during which she never quite lost +consciousness. + +In the morning she was waked by a horrible nightmare, which had +recurred several times in her dreams, even before her connection +with Vronsky. A little old man with unkempt beard was doing +something bent down over some iron, muttering meaningless French +words, and she, as she always did in this nightmare (it was what +made the horror of it), felt that this peasant was taking no +notice of her, but was doing something horrible with the iron-- +over her. And she waked up in a cold sweat. + +When she got up, the previous day came back to her as though +veiled in mist. + +"There was a quarrel. Just what has happened several times. I +said I had a headache, and he did not come in to see me. +Tomorrow we're going away; I must see him and get ready for the +journey," she said to herself. And learning that he was in his +study, she went down to him. As she passed through the +drawing room she heard a carriage stop at the entrance, and +looking out of the window she saw the carriage, from which a +young girl in a lilac hat was leaning out giving some direction +to the footman ringing the bell. After a parley in the hall, +someone came upstairs, and Vronsky's steps could be heard passing +the drawing room. He went rapidly downstairs. Anna went again +to the window. She saw him come out onto the steps without his +hat and go up to the carriage. The young girl in the lilac hat +handed him a parcel. Vronsky, smiling, said something to her. +The carriage drove away, he ran rapidly upstairs again. + +The mists that had shrouded everything in her soul parted +suddenly. The feelings of yesterday pierced the sick heart with +a fresh pang. She could not understand now how she could have +lowered herself by spending a whole day with him in his house. +She went into his room to announce her determination. + +"That was Madame Sorokina and her daughter. They came and +brought me the money and the deeds from maman. I couldn't get +them yesterday. How is your head, better?" he said quietly, not +wishing to see and to understand the gloomy and solemn expression +of her face. + +She looked silently, intently at him, standing in the middle of +the room. He glanced at her, frowned for a moment, and went on +reading a letter. She turned, and went deliberately out of the +room. He still might have turned her back, but she had reached +the door, he was still silent, and the only sound audible was the +rustling of the note paper as he turned it. + +"Oh, by the way," he said at the very moment she was in the +doorway, "we're going tomorrow for certain, aren't we?" + +"You, but not I," she said, turning round to him. + +"Anna, we can't go on like this..." + +"You, but not I," she repeated. + +"This is getting unbearable!" + +"You...you will be sorry for this," she said, and went out. + +Frightened by the desperate expression with which these words +were uttered, he jumped up and would have run after her, but on +second thoughts he sat down and scowled, setting his teeth. This +vulgar--as he thought it--threat of something vague exasperated +him. "I've tried everything," he thought; "the only thing left +is not to pay attention," and he began to get ready to drive into +town, and again to his mother's to get her signature to the +deeds. + +She heard the sound of his steps about the study and the dining +room. At the drawing room he stood still. But he did not turn +in to see her, he merely gave an order that the horse should be +given to Voytov if he came while he was away. Then she heard the +carriage brought round, the door opened, and he came out again. +But he went back into the porch again, and someone was running +upstairs. It was the valet running up for his gloves that had +been forgotten. She went to the window and saw him take the +gloves without looking, and touching the coachman on the back he +said something to him. Then without looking up at the window he +settled himself in his usual attitude in the carriage, with his +legs crossed, and drawing on his gloves he vanished round the +corner. + + + +Chapter 27 + + +"He has gone! It is over!" Anna said to herself, standing at the +window; and in answer to this statement the impression of the +darkness when the candle had flickered out, and of her fearful +dream mingling into one, filled her heart with cold terror. + +"No, that cannot be!" she cried, and crossing the room she rang +the bell. She was so afraid now of being alone, that without +waiting for the servant to come in, she went out to meet him. + +"Inquire where the count has gone," she said. The servant +answered that the count had gone to the stable. + +"His honor left word that if you cared to drive out, the carriage +would be back immediately." + +"Very good. Wait a minute. I'll write a note at once. Send +Mihail with the note to the stables. Make haste." + +She sat down and wrote: + +"I was wrong. Come back home; I must explain. For God's sake +come! I'm afraid." + +She sealed it up and gave it to the servant. + +She was afraid of being left alone now; she followed the servant +out of the room, and went to the nursery. + +"Why, this isn't it, this isn't he! Where are his blue eyes, his +sweet, shy smile?" was her first thought when she saw her chubby, +rosy little girl with her black, curly hair instead of Seryozha, +whom in the tangle of her ideas she had expected to see in the +nursery. The little girl sitting at the table was obstinately +and violently battering on it with a cork, and staring aimlessly +at her mother with her pitch-black eyes. Answering the English +nurse that she was quite well, and that she was going to the +country tomorrow, Anna sat down by the little girl and began +spinning the cork to show her. But the child's loud, ringing +laugh, and the motion of her eyebrows, recalled Vronsky so +vividly that she got up hurriedly, restraining her sobs, and went +away. "Can it be all over? No, it cannot be!" she thought. "He +will come back. But how can he explain that smile, that +excitement after he had been talking to her? But even if he +doesn't explain, I will believe. If I don't believe, there's +only one thing left for me, and I can't." + +She looked at her watch. Twenty minutes had passed. "By now he +has received the note and is coming back. Not long, ten minutes +more.... But what if he doesn't come? No, that cannot be. He +mustn't see me with tear-stained eyes. I'll go and wash. Yes, +yes; did I do my hair or not?" she asked herself. And she could +not remember. She felt her head with her hand. "Yes, my hair +has been done, but when I did it I can't in the least remember." +She could not believe the evidence of her hand, and went up to +the pier glass to see whether she really had done her hair. She +certainly had, but she could not think when she had done it. +"Who's that?" she thought, looking in the looking glass at the +swollen face with strangely glittering eyes, that looked in a +scared way at her. "Why, it's I!" she suddenly understood, and +looking round, she seemed all at once to feel his kisses on her, +and twitched her shoulders, shuddering. Then she lifted her hand +to her lips and kissed it. + +"What is it? Why, I'm going out of my mind!" and she went into +her bedroom, where Annushka was tidying the room. + +"Annushka," she said, coming to a standstill before her, and she +stared at the maid, not knowing what to say to her. + +"You meant to go and see Darya Alexandrovna," said the girl, as +though she understood. + +"Darya Alexandrovna? Yes, I'll go." + +"Fifteen minutes there, fifteen minutes back. He's coming, he'll +be here soon." She took out her watch and looked at it. "But +how could he go away, leaving me in such a state? How can he +live, without making it up with me?" She went to the window and +began looking into the street. Judging by the time, he might be +back now. But her calculations might be wrong, and she began +once more to recall when he had started and to count the minutes. + +At the moment when she had moved away to the big clock to compare +it with her watch, someone drove up. Glancing out of the window, +she saw his carriage. But no one came upstairs, and voices could +be heard below. It was the messenger who had come back in the +carriage. She went down to him. + +"We didn't catch the count. The count had driven off on the +lower city road." + +"What do you say? What!..." she said to the rosy, good-humored +Mihail, as he handed her back her note. + +"Why, then, he has never received it!" she thought. + +"Go with this note to Countess Vronskaya's place, you know? and +bring an answer back immediately," she said to the messenger. + +"And I, what am I going to do?" she thought. "Yes, I'm going to +Dolly's, that's true or else I shall go out of my mind. Yes, and +I can telegraph, too." And she wrote a telegram. "I absolutely +must talk to you; come at once." After sending off the telegram, +she went to dress. When she was dressed and in her hat, she +glanced again into the eyes of the plump, comfortable-looking +Annushka. There was unmistakable sympathy in those good-natured +little gray eyes. + +"Annushka, dear, what am I to do?" said Anna, sobbing and sinking +helplessly into a chair. + +"Why fret yourself so, Anna Arkadyevna? Why, there's nothing out +of the way. You drive out a little, and it'll cheer you up," +said the maid. + +"Yes, I'm going," said Anna, rousing herself and getting up. +"And if there's a telegram while I'm away, send it on to Darya +Alexandrovna's...but no, I shall be back myself." + +"Yes, I mustn't think, I must do something, drive somewhere, and +most of all, get out of this house," she said, feeling with +terror the strange turmoil going on in her own heart, and she +made haste to go out and get into the carriage. + +"Where to?" asked Pyotr before getting onto the box. + +"To Znamenka, the Oblonskys'." + + + +Chapter 28 + + +It was bright and sunny. A fine rain had been falling all the +morning, and now it had not long cleared up. The iron roofs, the +flags of the roads, the flints of the pavements, the wheels and +leather, the brass and the tinplate of the carriages--all +glistened brightly in the May sunshine. It was three o'clock, +and the very liveliest time in the streets. + +As she sat in a corner of the comfortable carriage, that hardly +swayed on its supple springs, while the grays trotted swiftly, in +the midst of the unceasing rattle of wheels and the changing +impressions in the pure air, Anna ran over the events of the last +days, and she saw her position quite differently from how it had +seemed at home. Now the thought of death seemed no longer so +terrible and so clear to her, and death itself no longer seemed +so inevitable. Now she blamed herself for the humiliation to +which she had lowered herself. "I entreat him to forgive me. I +have given in to him. I have owned myself in fault. What for? +Can't I live without him?" And leaving unanswered the question +how she was going to live without him, she fell to reading the +signs on the shops. "Office and warehouse. Dental surgeon. +Yes, I'll tell Dolly all about it. She doesn't like Vronsky. I +shall be sick and ashamed, but I'll tell her. She loves me, and +I'll follow her advice. I won't give in to him; I won't let him +train me as he pleases. Filippov, bun shop. They say they send +their dough to Petersburg. The Moscow water is so good for it. +Ah, the springs at Mitishtchen, and the pancakes!" + +And she remembered how, long, long ago, when she was a girl of +seventeen, she had gone with her aunt to Troitsa. "Riding, too. +Was that really me, with red hands? How much that seemed to me +then splendid and out of reach has become worthless, while what +I had then has gone out of my reach forever! Could I ever have +believed then that I could come to such humiliation? How +conceited and self-satisfied he will be when he gets my note! +But I will show him.... How horrid that paint smells! Why is it +they're always painting and building? _Modes et robes,_" she read. +A man bowed to her. It was Annushka's husband. "Our parasites"; +she remembered how Vronsky had said that. "Our? Why our? +What's so awful is that one can't tear up the past by its roots. +One can't tear it out, but one can hide one's memory of it. And +I'll hide it." And then she thought of her past with Alexey +Alexandrovitch, of how she had blotted the memory of it out of +her life. "Dolly will think I'm leaving my second husband, and +so I certainly must be in the wrong. As if I cared to be right! +I can't help it!" she said, and she wanted to cry. But at once +she fell to wondering what those two girls could be smiling +about. "Love, most likely. They don't know how dreary it is, +how low.... The boulevard and the children. Three boys running, +playing at horses. Seryozha! And I'm losing everything and not +getting him back. Yes, I'm losing everything, if he doesn't +return. Perhaps he was late for the train and has come back by +now. Longing for humiliation again!" she said to herself. "No, +I'll go to Dolly, and say straight out to her, I'm unhappy, I +deserve this, I'm to blame, but still I'm unhappy, help me. +These horses, this carriage--how loathsome I am to myself in this +carriage--all his; but I won't see them again." + +Thinking over the words in which she would tell Dolly, and +mentally working her heart up to great bitterness, Anna went +upstairs. + +"Is there anyone with her?" she asked in the hall. + +"Katerina Alexandrovna Levin," answered the footman. + +"Kitty! Kitty, whom Vronsky was in love with!" thought Anna, +"the girl he thinks of with love. He's sorry he didn't marry +her. But me he thinks of with hatred, and is sorry he had +anything to do with me." + +The sisters were having a consultation about nursing when Anna +called. Dolly went down alone to see the visitor who had +interrupted their conversation. + +"Well, so you've not gone away yet? I meant to have come to +you," she said; "I had a letter from Stiva today." + +"We had a telegram too," answered Anna, looking round for Kitty. + +"He writes that he can't make out quite what Alexey +Alexandrovitch wants, but he won't go away without a decisive +answer." + +"I thought you had someone with you. Can I see the letter?" + +"Yes; Kitty," said Dolly, embarrassed. "She stayed in the +nursery. She has been very ill." + +"So I heard. May I see the letter?" + +"I'll get it directly. But he doesn't refuse; on the contrary, +Stiva has hopes," said Dolly, stopping in the doorway. + +"I haven't, and indeed I don't wish it," said Anna. + +"What's this? Does Kitty consider it degrading to meet me?" +thought Anna when she was alone. "Perhaps she's right, too. But +it's not for her, the girl who was in love with Vronsky, it's not +for her to show me that, even if it is true. I know that in my +position I can't be received by any decent woman. I knew that +from the first moment I sacrificed everything to him. And this +is my reward! Oh, how I hate him! And what did I come here for? +I'm worse here, more miserable." She heard from the next room +the sisters' voices in consultation. "And what am I going to say +to Dolly now? Amuse Kitty by the sight of my wretchedness, +submit to her patronizing? No; and besides, Dolly wouldn't +understand. And it would be no good my telling her. It would +only be interesting to see Kitty, to show her how I despise +everyone and everything, how nothing matters to me now." + +Dolly came in with the letter. Anna read it and handed it back +in silence. + +"I knew all that," she said, "and it doesn't interest me in the +least." + +"Oh, why so? On the contrary, I have hopes," said Dolly, looking +inquisitively at Anna. She had never seen her in such a +strangely irritable condition. "When are you going away?" she +asked. + +Anna, half-closing her eyes, looked straight before her and did +not answer. + +"Why does Kitty shrink from me?" she said, looking at the door +and flushing red. + +"Oh, what nonsense! She's nursing, and things aren't going right +with her, and I've been advising her.... She's delighted. +She'll be here in a minute," said Dolly awkwardly, not clever at +lying. "Yes, here she is." + +Hearing that Anna had called, Kitty had wanted not to appear, but +Dolly persuaded her. Rallying her forces, Kitty went in, walked +up to her, blushing, and shook hands. + +"I am so glad to see you," she said with a trembling voice. + +Kitty had been thrown into confusion by the inward conflict +between her antagonism to this bad woman and her desire to be +nice to her. But as soon as she saw Anna's lovely and attractive +face, all feeling of antagonism disappeared. + +"I should not have been surprised if you had not cared to meet +me. I'm used to everything. You have been ill? Yes, you are +changed," said Anna. + +Kitty felt that Anna was looking at her with hostile eyes. She +ascribed this hostility to the awkward position in which Anna, +who had once patronized her, must feel with her now, and she felt +sorry for her. + +They talked of Kitty's illness, of the baby, of Stiva, but it was +obvious that nothing interested Anna. + +"I came to say good-bye to you," she said, getting up. + +"Oh, when are you going?" + +But again not answering, Anna turned to Kitty. + +"Yes, I am very glad to have seen you," she said with a smile. +"I have heard so much of you from everyone, even from your +husband. He came to see me, and I liked him exceedingly," she +said, unmistakably with malicious intent. "Where is he?" + +"He has gone back to the country," said Kitty, blushing. + +"Remember me to him, be sure you do." + +"I'll be sure to!" Kitty said naively, looking compassionately +into her eyes. + +"So good-bye, Dolly." And kissing Dolly and shaking hands with +Kitty, Anna went out hurriedly. + +"She's just the same and just as charming! She's very lovely!" +said Kitty, when she was alone with her sister. "But there's +something piteous about her. Awfully piteous!" + +"Yes, there's something unusual about her today," said Dolly. +"When I went with her into the hall, I fancied she was almost +crying." + + + +Chapter 29 + + +Anna got into the carriage again in an even worse frame of mind +than when she set out from home. To her previous tortures was +added now that sense of mortification and of being an outcast +which she had felt so distinctly on meeting Kitty. + +"Where to? Home?" asked Pyotr. + +"Yes, home," she said, not even thinking now where she was going. + +"How they looked at me as something dreadful, incomprehensible, +and curious! What can he be telling the other with such warmth?" +she thought, staring at two men who walked by. "Can one ever +tell anyone what one is feeling? I meant to tell Dolly, and it's +a good thing I didn't tell her. How pleased she would have been +at my misery! She would have concealed it, but her chief feeling +would have been delight at my being punished for the happiness +she envied me for. Kitty, she would have been even more pleased. +How I can see through her! She knows I was more than usually +sweet to her husband. And she's jealous and hates me. And she +despises me. In her eyes I'm an immoral woman. If I were an +immoral woman I could have made her husband fall in love with me +...if I'd cared to. And, indeed, I did care to. There's someone +who's pleased with himself," she thought, as she saw a fat, +rubicund gentleman coming towards her. He took her for an +acquaintance, and lifted his glossy hat above his bald, glossy +head, and then perceived his mistake. "He thought he knew me. +Well, he knows me as well as anyone in the world knows me. I +don't know myself. I know my appetites, as the French say. They +want that dirty ice cream, that they do know for certain," she +thought, looking at two boys stopping an ice cream seller, who +took a barrel off his head and began wiping his perspiring face +with a towel. "We all want what is sweet and nice. If not +sweetmeats, then a dirty ice. And Kitty's the same--if not +Vronsky, then Levin. And she envies me, and hates me. And we +all hate each other. I Kitty, Kitty me. Yes, that's the truth. +_'Tiutkin, coiffeur.' Je me fais coiffer par Tiutkin...._ I'll +tell him that when he comes," she thought and smiled. But the +same instant she remembered that she had no one now to tell +anything amusing to. "And there's nothing amusing, nothing +mirthful, really. It's all hateful. They're singing for +vespers, and how carefully that merchant crosses himself! as if +he were afraid of missing something. Why these churches and this +singing and this humbug? Simply to conceal that we all hate each +other like these cab drivers who are abusing each other so +angrily. Yashvin says, 'He wants to strip me of my shirt, and I +him of his.' Yes, that's the truth!" + +She was plunged in these thoughts, which so engrossed her that +she left off thinking of her own position, when the carriage drew +up at the steps of her house. It was only when she saw the +porter running out to meet her that she remembered she had sent +the note and the telegram. + +"Is there an answer?" she inquired. + +"I'll see this minute," answered the porter, and glancing into +his room, he took out and gave her the thin square envelope of a +telegram. "I can't come before ten o'clock.--Vronsky," she +read. + +"And hasn't the messenger come back?" + +"No," answered the porter. + +"Then, since it's so, I know what I must do," she said, and +feeling a vague fury and craving for revenge rising up within +her, she ran upstairs. "I'll go to him myself. Before going +away forever, I'll tell him all. Never have I hated anyone as I +hate that man!" she thought. Seeing his hat on the rack, she +shuddered with aversion. She did not consider that his telegram +was an answer to her telegram and that he had not yet received +her note. She pictured him to herself as talking calmly to his +mother and Princess Sorokina and rejoicing at her sufferings. +"Yes, I must go quickly," she said, not knowing yet where she was +going. She longed to get away as quickly as possible from the +feelings she had gone through in that awful house. The servants, +the walls, the things in that house--all aroused repulsion and +hatred in her and lay like a weight upon her. + +"Yes, I must go to the railway station, and if he's not there, +then go there and catch him." Anna looked at the railway +timetable in the newspapers. An evening train went at two +minutes past eight. "Yes, I shall be in time." She gave orders +for the other horses to be put in the carriage, and packed in a +traveling-bag the things needed for a few days. She knew she +would never come back here again. + +Among the plans that came into her head she vaguely determined +that after what would happen at the station or at the countess's +house, she would go as far as the first town on the Nizhni road +and stop there. + +Dinner was on the table; she went up, but the smell of the bread +and cheese was enough to make her feel that all food was +disgusting. She ordered the carriage and went out. The house +threw a shadow now right across the street, but it was a bright +evening and still warm in the sunshine. Annushka, who came down +with her things, and Pyotr, who put the things in the carriage, +and the coachman, evidently out of humor, were all hateful to +her, and irritated her by their words and actions. + +"I don't want you, Pyotr." + +"But how about the ticket?" + +"Well, as you like, it doesn't matter," she said crossly. + +Pyotr jumped on the box, and putting his arms akimbo, told the +coachman to drive to the booking-office. + + + +Chapter 30 + + +"Here it is again! Again I understand it all!" Anna said to +herself, as soon as the carriage had started and swaying lightly, +rumbled over the tiny cobbles of the paved road, and again one +impression followed rapidly upon another. + +"Yes; what was the last thing I thought of so clearly?" she tried +to recall it. "_'Tiutkin, coiffeur?'_--no, not that. Yes, of what +Yashvin says, the struggle for existence and hatred is the one +thing that holds men together. No, it's a useless journey you're +making," she said, mentally addressing a party in a coach and +four, evidently going for an excursion into the country. "And +the dog you're taking with you will be no help to you. You can't +get away from yourselves." Turning her eyes in the direction +Pyotr had turned to look, she saw a factory hand almost dead +drunk, with hanging head, being led away by a policeman. "Come, +he's found a quicker way," she thought. "Count Vronsky and I did +not find that happiness either, though we expected so much from +it." And now for the first time Anna turned that glaring light +in which she was seeing everything on to her relations with him, +which she had hitherto avoided thinking about. "What was it he +sought in me? Not love so much as the satisfaction of vanity." +She remembered his words, the expression of his face, that +recalled an abject setter-dog, in the early days of their +connection. And everything now confirmed this. "Yes, there was +the triumph of success in him. Of course there was love too, but +the chief element was the pride of success. He boasted of me. +Now that's over. There's nothing to be proud of. Not to be +proud of, but to be ashamed of. He has taken from me all he +could, and now I am no use to him. He is weary of me and is +trying not to be dishonorable in his behavior to me. He let that +out yesterday--he wants divorce and marriage so as to burn his +ships. He loves me, but how? The zest is gone, as the English +say. That fellow wants everyone to admire him and is very much +pleased with himself," she thought, looking at a red-faced clerk, +riding on a riding school horse. "Yes, there's not the same +flavor about me for him now. If I go away from him, at the +bottom of his heart he will be glad." + +This was not mere supposition, she saw it distinctly in the +piercing light, which revealed to her now the meaning of life and +human relations. + +"My love keeps growing more passionate and egoistic, while his is +waning and waning, and that's why we're drifting apart." She +went on musing. "And there's no help for it. He is everything +for me, and I want him more and more to give himself up to me +entirely. And he wants more and more to get away from me. We +walked to meet each other up to the time of our love, and then we +have been irresistibly drifting in different directions. And +there's no altering that. He tells me I'm insanely jealous, and +I have told myself that I am insanely jealous; but it's not true. +I'm not jealous, but I'm unsatisfied. But..." she opened her +lips, and shifted her place in the carriage in the excitement, +aroused by the thought that suddenly struck her. "If I could be +anything but a mistress, passionately caring for nothing but his +caresses; but I can't and I don't care to be anything else. And +by that desire I rouse aversion in him, and he rouses fury in me, +and it cannot be different. Don't I know that he wouldn't +deceive me, that he has no schemes about Princess Sorokina, that +he's not in love with Kitty, that he won't desert me! I know all +that, but it makes it no better for me. If without loving me, +from _duty_ he'll be good and kind to me, without what I want, +that's a thousand times worse than unkindness! That's--hell! +And that's just how it is. For a long while now he hasn't loved +me. And where love ends, hate begins. I don't know these +streets at all. Hills it seems, and still houses, and houses +.... And in the houses always people and people.... How many of +them, no end, and all hating each other! Come, let me try and +think what I want, to make me happy. Well? Suppose I am +divorced, and Alexey Alexandrovitch lets me have Seryozha, and I +marry Vronsky." Thinking of Alexey Alexandrovitch, she at once +pictured him with extraordinary vividness as though he were alive +before her, with his mild, lifeless, dull eyes, the blue veins in +his white hands, his intonations and the cracking of his fingers, +and remembering the feeling which had existed between them, and +which was also called love, she shuddered with loathing. "Well, +I'm divorced, and become Vronsky's wife. Well, will Kitty cease +looking at me as she looked at me today? No. And will Seryozha +leave off asking and wondering about my two husbands? And is +there any new feeling I can awaken between Vronsky and me? Is +there possible, if not happiness, some sort of ease from misery? +No, no!" she answered now without the slightest hesitation. +"Impossible! We are drawn apart by life, and I make his +unhappiness, and he mine, and there's no altering him or me. +Every attempt has been made, the screw has come unscrewed. Oh, a +beggar woman with a baby. She thinks I'm sorry for her. Aren't +we all flung into the world only to hate each other, and so to +torture ourselves and each other? Schoolboys coming--laughing +Seryozha?" she thought. "I thought, too, that I loved him, and +used to be touched by my own tenderness. But I have lived +without him, I gave him up for another love, and did not regret +the exchange till that love was satisfied." And with loathing +she thought of what she meant by that love. And the clearness +with which she saw life now, her own and all men's, was a +pleasure to her. "It's so with me and Pyotr, and the coachman, +Fyodor, and that merchant, and all the people living along the +Volga, where those placards invite one to go, and everywhere and +always," she thought when she had driven under the low-pitched +roof of the Nizhigorod station, and the porters ran to meet her. + +"A ticket to Obiralovka?" said Pyotr. + +She had utterly forgotten where and why she was going, and only +by a great effort she understood the question. + +"Yes," she said, handing him her purse, and taking a little red +bag in her hand, she got out of the carriage. + +Making her way through the crowd to the first-class waiting-room, +she gradually recollected all the details of her position, and +the plans between which she was hesitating. And again at the old +sore places, hope and then despair poisoned the wounds of her +tortured, fearfully throbbing heart. As she sat on the +star-shaped sofa waiting for the train, she gazed with aversion +at the people coming and going (they were all hateful to her), +and thought how she would arrive at the station, would write him +a note, and what she would write to him, and how he was at this +moment complaining to his mother of his position, not +understanding her sufferings, and how she would go into the room, +and what she would say to him. Then she thought that life might +still be happy, and how miserably she loved and hated him, and +how fearfully her heart was beating. + + + +Chapter 31 + + +A bell rang, some young men, ugly and impudent, and at the same +time careful of the impression they were making, hurried by. +Pyotr, too, crossed the room in his livery and top-boots, with +his dull, animal face, and came up to her to take her to the +train. Some noisy men were quiet as she passed them on the +platform, and one whispered something about her to another-- +something vile, no doubt. She stepped up on the high step, and +sat down in a carriage by herself on a dirty seat that had been +white. Her bag lay beside her, shaken up and down by the +springiness of the seat. With a foolish smile Pyotr raised his +hat, with its colored band, at the window, in token of farewell; +an impudent conductor slammed the door and the latch. A +grotesque-looking lady wearing a bustle (Anna mentally undressed +the woman, and was appalled at her hideousness), and a little +girl laughing affectedly ran down the platform. + +"Katerina Andreevna, she's got them all, _ma tante!_" cried the +girl. + +"Even the child's hideous and affected," thought Anna. To avoid +seeing anyone, she got up quickly and seated herself at the +opposite window of the empty carriage. A misshapen-looking +peasant covered with dirt, in a cap from which his tangled hair +stuck out all round, passed by that window, stooping down to the +carriage wheels. "There's something familiar about that hideous +peasant," thought Anna. And remembering her dream, she moved +away to the opposite door, shaking with terror. The conductor +opened the door and let in a man and his wife. + +"Do you wish to get out?" + +Anna made no answer. The conductor and her two fellow-passengers +did not notice under her veil her panic-stricken face. She went +back to her corner and sat down. The couple seated themselves on +the opposite side, and intently but surreptitiously scrutinized +her clothes. Both husband and wife seemed repulsive to Anna. +The husband asked, would she allow him to smoke, obviously not +with a view to smoking but to getting into conversation with her. +Receiving her assent, he said to his wife in French something +about caring less to smoke than to talk. They made inane and +affected remarks to one another, entirely for her benefit. Anna +saw clearly that they were sick of each other, and hated each +other. And no one could have helped hating such miserable +monstrosities. + +A second bell sounded, and was followed by moving of luggage, +noise, shouting and laughter. It was so clear to Anna that there +was nothing for anyone to be glad of, that this laughter +irritated her agonizingly, and she would have liked to stop up +her ears not to hear it. At last the third bell rang, there was +a whistle and a hiss of steam, and a clank of chains, and the man +in her carriage crossed himself. "It would be interesting to ask +him what meaning he attaches to that," thought Anna, looking +angrily at him. She looked past the lady out of the window at +the people who seemed whirling by as they ran beside the train or +stood on the platform. The train, jerking at regular intervals +at the junctions of the rails, rolled by the platform, past a +stone wall, a signal-box, past other trains; the wheels, moving +more smoothly and evenly, resounded with a slight clang on the +rails. The window was lighted up by the bright evening sun, and +a slight breeze fluttered the curtain. Anna forgot her fellow +passengers, and to the light swaying of the train she fell to +thinking again, as she breathed the fresh air. + +"Yes, what did I stop at? That I couldn't conceive a position in +which life would not be a misery, that we are all created to be +miserable, and that we all know it, and all invent means of +deceiving each other. And when one sees the truth, what is one +to do?" + +"That's what reason is given man for, to escape from what worries +him," said the lady in French, lisping affectedly, and obviously +pleased with her phrase. + +The words seemed an answer to Anna's thoughts. + +"To escape from what worries him," repeated Anna. And glancing +at the red-cheeked husband and the thin wife, she saw that the +sickly wife considered herself misunderstood, and the husband +deceived her and encouraged her in that idea of herself. Anna +seemed to see all their history and all the crannies of their +souls, as it were turning a light upon them. But there was +nothing interesting in them, and she pursued her thought. + +"Yes, I'm very much worried, and that's what reason was given me +for, to escape; so then one must escape: why not put out the +light when there's nothing more to look at, when it's sickening +to look at it all? But how? Why did the conductor run along the +footboard, why are they shrieking, those young men in that train? +why are they talking, why are they laughing? It's all falsehood, +all lying, all humbug, all cruelty!..." + +When the train came into the station, Anna got out into the crowd +of passengers, and moving apart from them as if they were lepers, +she stood on the platform, trying to think what she had come here +for, and what she meant to do. Everything that had seemed to her +possible before was now so difficult to consider, especially in +this noisy crowd of hideous people who would not leave her alone. +One moment porters ran up to her proffering their services, then +young men, clacking their heels on the planks of the platform and +talking loudly, stared at her; people meeting her dodged past on +the wrong side. Remembering that she had meant to go on further +if there were no answer, she stopped a porter and asked if her +coachman were not here with a note from Count Vronsky. + +"Count Vronsky? They sent up here from the Vronskys just this +minute, to meet Princess Sorokina and her daughter. And what is +the coachman like?" + +Just as she was talking to the porter, the coachman Mihail, red +and cheerful in his smart blue coat and chain, evidently proud of +having so successfully performed his commission, came up to her +and gave her a letter. She broke it open, and her heart ached +before she had read it. + +"I am very sorry your note did not reach me. I will be home at +ten," Vronsky had written carelessly.... + +"Yes, that's what I expected!" she said to herself with an evil +smile. + +"Very good, you can go home then," she said softly, addressing +Mihail. She spoke softly because the rapidity of her heart's +beating hindered her breathing. "No, I won't let you make me +miserable," she thought menacingly, addressing not him, not +herself, but the power that made her suffer, and she walked along +the platform. + +Two maidservants walking along the platform turned their heads, +staring at her and making some remarks about her dress. "Real," +they said of the lace she was wearing. The young men would not +leave her in peace. Again they passed by, peering into her face, +and with a laugh shouting something in an unnatural voice. The +station-master coming up asked her whether she was going by +train. A boy selling kvas never took his eyes off her. "My God! +where am I to go?" she thought, going farther and farther along +the platform. At the end she stopped. Some ladies and children, +who had come to meet a gentleman in spectacles, paused in their +loud laughter and talking, and stared at her as she reached them. +She quickened her pace and walked away from them to the edge of +the platform. A luggage train was coming in. The platform began +to sway, and she fancied she was in the train again. + +And all at once she thought of the man crushed by the train the +day she had first met Vronsky, and she knew what she had to do. +With a rapid, light step she went down the steps that led from +the tank to the rails and stopped quite near the approaching +train. + +She looked at the lower part of the carriages, at the screws and +chains and the tall cast-iron wheel of the first carriage slowly +moving up, and trying to measure the middle between the front and +back wheels, and the very minute when that middle point would be +opposite her. + +"There," she said to herself, looking into the shadow of the +carriage, at the sand and coal dust which covered the sleepers-- +"there, in the very middle, and I will punish him and escape +from everyone and from myself." + +She tried to fling herself below the wheels of the first carriage +as it reached her; but the red bag which she tried to drop out of +her hand delayed her, and she was too late; she missed the +moment. She had to wait for the next carriage. A feeling such +as she had known when about to take the first plunge in bathing +came upon her, and she crossed herself. That familiar gesture +brought back into her soul a whole series of girlish and childish +memories, and suddenly the darkness that had covered everything +for her was torn apart, and life rose up before her for an +instant with all its bright past joys. But she did not take her +eyes from the wheels of the second carriage. And exactly at the +moment when the space between the wheels came opposite her, she +dropped the red bag, and drawing her head back into her +shoulders, fell on her hands under the carriage, and lightly, as +though she would rise again at once, dropped on to her knees. +And at the same instant she was terror-stricken at what she was +doing. "Where am I? What am I doing? What for?" She tried to +get up, to drop backwards; but something huge and merciless +struck her on the head and rolled her on her back. "Lord, +forgive me all!" she said, feeling it impossible to struggle. A +peasant muttering something was working at the iron above her. +And the light by which she had read the book filled with +troubles, falsehoods, sorrow, and evil, flared up more brightly +than ever before, lighted up for her all that had been in +darkness, flickered, began to grow dim, and was quenched forever. + + + + + +PART 8 + + + + +Chapter 1 + + +Almost two months had passed. The hot summer was half over, but +Sergey Ivanovitch was only just preparing to leave Moscow. + +Sergey Ivanovitch's life had not been uneventful during this +time. A year ago he had finished his book, the fruit of six +years' labor, "Sketch of a Survey of the Principles and Forms of +Government in Europe and Russia." Several sections of this book +and its introduction had appeared in periodical publications, and +other parts had been read by Sergey Ivanovitch to persons of his +circle, so that the leading ideas of the work could not be +completely novel to the public. But still Sergey Ivanovitch had +expected that on its appearance his book would be sure to make a +serious impression on society, and if it did not cause a +revolution in social science it would, at any rate, make a great +stir in the scientific world. + +After the most conscientious revision the book had last year been +published, and had been distributed among the booksellers. + +Though he asked no one about it, reluctantly and with feigned +indifference answered his friends' inquiries as to how the book +was going, and did not even inquire of the booksellers how the +book was selling, Sergey Ivanovitch was all on the alert, with +strained attention, watching for the first impression his book +would make in the world and in literature. + +But a week passed, a second, a third, and in society no +impression whatever could be detected. His friends who were +specialists and savants, occasionally--unmistakably from +politeness--alluded to it. The rest of his acquaintances, not +interested in a book on a learned subject, did not talk of it at +all. And society generally--just now especially absorbed in +other things--was absolutely indifferent. In the press, too, for +a whole month there was not a word about his book. + +Sergey Ivanovitch had calculated to a nicety the time necessary +for writing a review, but a month passed, and a second, and still +there was silence. + +Only in the _Northern Beetle_, in a comic article on the singer +Drabanti, who had lost his voice, there was a contemptuous +allusion to Koznishev's book, suggesting that the book had been +long ago seen through by everyone, and was a subject of general +ridicule. + +At last in the third month a critical article appeared in a +serious review. Sergey Ivanovitch knew the author of the +article. He had met him once at Golubtsov's. + +The author of the article was a young man, an invalid, very bold +as a writer, but extremely deficient in breeding and shy in +personal relations. + +In spite of his absolute contempt for the author, it was with +complete respect that Sergey Ivanovitch set about reading the +article. The article was awful. + +The critic had undoubtedly put an interpretation upon the book +which could not possibly be put on it. But he had selected +quotations so adroitly that for people who had not read the book +(and obviously scarcely anyone had read it) it seemed absolutely +clear that the whole book was nothing but a medley of high-flown +phrases, not even--as suggested by marks of interrogation--used +appropriately, and that the author of the book was a person +absolutely without knowledge of the subject. And all this was +so wittily done that Sergey Ivanovitch would not have disowned +such wit himself. But that was just what was so awful. + +In spite of the scrupulous conscientiousness with which Sergey +Ivanovitch verified the correctness of the critic's arguments, he +did not for a minute stop to ponder over the faults and mistakes +which were ridiculed; but unconsciously he began immediately +trying to recall every detail of his meeting and conversation +with the author of the article. + +"Didn't I offend him in some way?" Sergey Ivanovitch wondered. + +And remembering that when they met he had corrected the young man +about something he had said that betrayed ignorance, Sergey +Ivanovitch found the clue to explain the article. + +This article was followed by a deadly silence about the book both +in the press and in conversation, and Sergey Ivanovitch saw that +his six years' task, toiled at with such love and labor, had +gone, leaving no trace. + +Sergey Ivanovitch's position was still more difficult from the +fact that, since he had finished his book, he had had no more +literary work to do, such as had hitherto occupied the greater +part of his time. + +Sergey Ivanovitch was clever, cultivated, healthy, and energetic, +and he did not know what use to make of his energy. +Conversations in drawing rooms, in meetings, assemblies, and +committees--everywhere where talk was possible--took up part of +his time. But being used for years to town life, he did not +waste all his energies in talk, as his less experienced younger +brother did, when he was in Moscow. He had a great deal of +leisure and intellectual energy still to dispose of. + +Fortunately for him, at this period so difficult for him from the +failure of his book, the various public questions of the +dissenting sects, of the American alliance, of the Samara famine, +of exhibitions, and of spiritualism, were definitely replaced in +public interest by the Slavonic question, which had hitherto +rather languidly interested society, and Sergey Ivanovitch, who +had been one of the first to raise this subject, threw himself +into it heart and soul. + +In the circle to which Sergey Ivanovitch belonged, nothing was +talked of or written about just now but the Servian War. +Everything that the idle crowd usually does to kill time was done +now for the benefit of the Slavonic States. Balls, concerts, +dinners, matchboxes, ladies' dresses, beer, restaurants-- +everything testified to sympathy with the Slavonic peoples. + +From much of what was spoken and written on the subject, Sergey +Ivanovitch differed on various points. He saw that the Slavonic +question had become one of those fashionable distractions which +succeed one another in providing society with an object and an +occupation. He saw, too, that a great many people were taking up +the subject from motives of self-interest and self-advertisement. +He recognized that the newspapers published a great deal that was +superfluous and exaggerated, with the sole aim of attracting +attention and outbidding one another. He saw that in this +general movement those who thrust themselves most forward and +shouted the loudest were men who had failed and were smarting +under a sense of injury--generals without armies, ministers not +in the ministry, journalists not on any paper, party leaders +without followers. He saw that there was a great deal in it that +was frivolous and absurd. But he saw and recognized an +unmistakable growing enthusiasm, uniting all classes, with which +it was impossible not to sympathize. The massacre of men who +were fellow Christians, and of the same Slavonic race, excited +sympathy for the sufferers and indignation against the +oppressors. And the heroism of the Servians and Montenegrins +struggling for a great cause begot in the whole people a longing +to help their brothers not in word but in deed. + +But in this there was another aspect that rejoiced Sergey +Ivanovitch. That was the manifestation of public opinion. The +public had definitely expressed its desire. The soul of the +people had, as Sergey Ivanovitch said, found expression. And the +more he worked in this cause, the more incontestable it seemed to +him that it was a cause destined to assume vast dimensions, to +create an epoch. + +He threw himself heart and soul into the service of this great +cause, and forgot to think about his book. His whole time now +was engrossed by it, so that he could scarcely manage to answer +all the letters and appeals addressed to him. He worked the +whole spring and part of the summer, and it was only in July that +he prepared to go away to his brother's in the country. + +He was going both to rest for a fortnight, and in the very heart +of the people, in the farthest wilds of the country, to enjoy the +sight of that uplifting of the spirit of the people, of which, +like all residents in the capital and big towns, he was fully +persuaded. Katavasov had long been meaning to carry out his +promise to stay with Levin, and so he was going with him. + + + +Chapter 2 + + +Sergey Ivanovitch and Katavasov had only just reached the station +of the Kursk line, which was particularly busy and full of +people that day, when, looking round for the groom who was +following with their things, they saw a party of volunteers +driving up in four cabs. Ladies met them with bouquets of +flowers, and followed by the rushing crowd they went into the +station. + +One of the ladies, who had met the volunteers, came out of the +hall and addressed Sergey Ivanovitch. + +"You too come to see them off?" she asked in French. + +"No, I'm going away myself, princess. To my brother's for a +holiday. Do you always see them off?" said Sergey Ivanovitch with +a hardly perceptible smile. + +"Oh, that would be impossible!" answered the princess. "Is it +true that eight hundred have been sent from us already? +Malvinsky wouldn't believe me." + +"More than eight hundred. If you reckon those who have been sent +not directly from Moscow, over a thousand," answered Sergey +Ivanovitch. + +"There! That's just what I said!" exclaimed the lady. "And it's +true too, I suppose, that more than a million has been +subscribed?" + +"Yes, princess." + +"What do you say to today's telegram? Beaten the Turks again." + +"Yes, so I saw," answered Sergey Ivanovitch. They were speaking +of the last telegram stating that the Turks had been for three +days in succession beaten at all points and put to flight, and +that tomorrow a decisive engagement was expected. + +"Ah, by the way, a splendid young fellow has asked leave to go, +and they've made some difficulty, I don't know why. I meant to +ask you; I know him; please write a note about his case. He's +being sent by Countess Lidia Ivanovna." + +Sergey Ivanovitch asked for all the details the princess knew +about the young man, and going into the first-class waiting-room, +wrote a note to the person on whom the granting of leave of +absence depended, and handed it to the princess. + +"You know Count Vronsky, the notorious one...is going by this +train?" said the princess with a smile full of triumph and +meaning, when he found her again and gave her the letter. + +"I had heard he was going, but I did not know when. By this +train?" + +"I've seen him. He's here: there's only his mother seeing him +off. It's the best thing, anyway, that he could do." + +"Oh, yes, of course." + +While they were talking the crowd streamed by them into the +dining room. They went forward too, and heard a gentleman with a +glass in his hand delivering a loud discourse to the volunteers. +"In the service of religion, humanity, and our brothers," the +gentleman said, his voice growing louder and louder; "to this +great cause mother Moscow dedicates you with her blessing. +_Jivio!_" he concluded, loudly and tearfully. + +Everyone shouted _Jivio!_ and a fresh crowd dashed into the hall, +almost carrying the princess off her legs. + +"Ah, princess! that was something like!" said Stepan +Arkadyevitch, suddenly appearing in the middle of the crowd and +beaming upon them with a delighted smile. "Capitally, warmly +said, wasn't it? Bravo! And Sergey Ivanovitch! Why, you ought +to have said something--just a few words, you know, to encourage +them; you do that so well," he added with a soft, respectful, and +discreet smile, moving Sergey Ivanovitch forward a little by the +arm. + +"No, I'm just off." + +"Where to?" + +"To the country, to my brother's," answered Sergey Ivanovitch. + +"Then you'll see my wife. I've written to her, but you'll see +her first. Please tell her that they've seen me and that it's +'all right,' as the English say. She'll understand. Oh, and be +so good as to tell her I'm appointed secretary of the +committee.... But she'll understand! You know, _les petites +miseres de la vie humaine,_" he said, as it were apologizing to +the princess. "And Princess Myakaya--not Liza, but Bibish--is +sending a thousand guns and twelve nurses. Did I tell you?" + +"Yes, I heard so," answered Koznishev indifferently. + +"It's a pity you're going away," said Stepan Arkadyevitch. +"Tomorrow we're giving a dinner to two who're setting off-- +Dimer-Bartnyansky from Petersburg and our Veslovsky, Grisha. +They're both going. Veslovsky's only lately married. There's a +fine fellow for you! Eh, princess?" he turned to the lady. + +The princess looked at Koznishev without replying. But the fact +that Sergey Ivanovitch and the princess seemed anxious to get rid +of him did not in the least disconcert Stepan Arkadyevitch. +Smiling, he stared at the feather in the princess's hat, and then +about him as though he were going to pick something up. Seeing a +lady approaching with a collecting box, he beckoned her up and +put in a five-rouble note. + +"I can never see these collecting boxes unmoved while I've money +in my pocket," he said. "And how about today's telegram? Fine +chaps those Montenegrins!" + +"You don't say so!" he cried, when the princess told him that +Vronsky was going by this train. For an instant Stepan +Arkadyevitch's face looked sad, but a minute later, when, +stroking his mustaches and swinging as he walked, he went into +the hall where Vronsky was, he had completely forgotten his own +despairing sobs over his sister's corpse, and he saw in Vronsky +only a hero and an old friend. + +"With all his faults one can't refuse to do him justice," said +the princess to Sergey Ivanovitch as soon as Stepan Arkadyevitch +had left them. "What a typically Russian, Slav nature! Only, +I'm afraid it won't be pleasant for Vronsky to see him. Say what +you will, I'm touched by that man's fate. Do talk to him a +little on the way," said the princess. + +"Yes, perhaps, if it happens so." + +"I never liked him. But this atones for a great deal. He's not +merely going himself, he's taking a squadron at his own expense." + +"Yes, so I heard." + +A bell sounded. Everyone crowded to the doors. "Here he is!" said +the princess, indicating Vronsky, who with his mother on his arm +walked by, wearing a long overcoat and wide-brimmed black hat. +Oblonsky was walking beside him, talking eagerly of something. + +Vronsky was frowning and looking straight before him, as though +he did not hear what Stepan Arkadyevitch was saying. + +Probably on Oblonsky's pointing them out, he looked round in the +direction where the princess and Sergey Ivanovitch were standing, +and without speaking lifted his hat. His face, aged and worn by +suffering, looked stony. + +Going onto the platform, Vronsky left his mother and disappeared +into a compartment. + +On the platform there rang out "God save the Tsar," then shouts +of "hurrah!" and _"jivio!"_ One of the volunteers, a tall, very +young man with a hollow chest, was particularly conspicuous, +bowing and waving his felt hat and a nosegay over his head. Then +two officers emerged, bowing too, and a stout man with a big +beard, wearing a greasy forage cap. + + + +Chapter 3 + + +Saying good-bye to the princess, Sergey Ivanovitch was joined by +Katavasov; together they got into a carriage full to overflowing, +and the train started. + +At Tsaritsino station the train was met by a chorus of young men +singing "Hail to Thee!" Again the volunteers bowed and poked +their heads out, but Sergey Ivanovitch paid no attention to them. +He had had so much to do with the volunteers that the type was +familiar to him and did not interest him. Katavasov, whose +scientific work had prevented his having a chance of observing +them hitherto, was very much interested in them and questioned +Sergey Ivanovitch. + +Sergey Ivanovitch advised him to go into the second-class and +talk to them himself. At the next station Katavasov acted on +this suggestion. + +At the first stop he moved into the second-class and made the +acquaintance of the volunteers. They were sitting in a corner of +the carriage, talking loudly and obviously aware that the +attention of the passengers and Katavasov as he got in was +concentrated upon them. More loudly than all talked the tall, +hollow-chested young man. He was unmistakably tipsy, and was +relating some story that had occurred at his school. Facing him +sat a middle-aged officer in the Austrian military jacket of the +Guards uniform. He was listening with a smile to the hollow- +chested youth, and occasionally pulling him up. The third, in an +artillery uniform, was sitting on a box beside them. A fourth +was asleep. + +Entering into conversation with the youth, Katavasov learned that +he was a wealthy Moscow merchant who had run through a large +fortune before he was two-and-twenty. Katavasov did not like +him, because he was unmanly and effeminate and sickly. He was +obviously convinced, especially now after drinking, that he was +performing a heroic action, and he bragged of it in the most +unpleasant way. + +The second, the retired officer, made an unpleasant impression +too upon Katavasov. He was, it seemed, a man who had tried +everything. He had been on a railway, had been a land-steward, +and had started factories, and he talked, quite without +necessity, of all he had done, and used learned expressions quite +inappropriately. + +The third, the artilleryman, on the contrary, struck Katavasov +very favorably. He was a quiet, modest fellow, unmistakably +impressed by the knowledge of the officer and the heroic +self-sacrifice of the merchant and saying nothing about himself. +When Katavasov asked him what had impelled him to go to Servia, +he answered modestly: + +"Oh, well, everyone's going. The Servians want help, too. I'm +sorry for them." + +"Yes, you artillerymen especially are scarce there," said +Katavasov. + +"Oh, I wasn't long in the artillery, maybe they'll put me into +the infantry or the cavalry." + +"Into the infantry when they need artillery more than anything?" +said Katavasov, fancying from the artilleryman's apparent age +that he must have reached a fairly high grade. + +"I wasn't long in the artillery; I'm a cadet retired," he said, +and he began to explain how he had failed in his examination. + +All of this together made a disagreeable impression on Katavasov, +and when the volunteers got out at a station for a drink, +Katavasov would have liked to compare his unfavorable impression +in conversation with someone. There was an old man in the +carriage, wearing a military overcoat, who had been listening all +the while to Katavasov's conversation with the volunteers. When +they were left alone, Katavasov addressed him. + +"What different positions they come from, all those fellows who +are going off there," Katavasov said vaguely, not wishing to +express his own opinion, and at the same time anxious to find out +the old man's views. + +The old man was an officer who had served on two campaigns. He +knew what makes a soldier, and judging by the appearance and the +talk of those persons, by the swagger with which they had +recourse to the bottle on the journey, he considered them poor +soldiers. Moreover, he lived in a district town, and he was +longing to tell how one soldier had volunteered from his town, a +drunkard and a thief whom no one would employ as a laborer. But +knowing by experience that in the present condition of the public +temper it was dangerous to express an opinion opposed to the +general one, and especially to criticize the volunteers +unfavorably, he too watched Katavasov without committing himself. + +"Well, men are wanted there," he said, laughing with his eyes. +And they fell to talking of the last war news, and each concealed +from the other his perplexity as to the engagement expected next +day, since the Turks had been beaten, according to the latest +news, at all points. And so they parted, neither giving +expression to his opinion. + +Katavasov went back to his own carriage, and with reluctant +hypocrisy reported to Sergey Ivanovitch his observations of the +volunteers, from which it would appear that they were capital +fellows. + +At a big station at a town the volunteers were again greeted with +shouts and singing, again men and women with collecting boxes +appeared, and provincial ladies brought bouquets to the +volunteers and followed them into the refreshment room; but all +this was on a much smaller and feebler scale than in Moscow. + + + +Chapter 4 + + +While the train was stopping at the provincial town, Sergey +Ivanovitch did not go to the refreshment room, but walked up and +down the platform. + +The first time he passed Vronsky's compartment he noticed that +the curtain was drawn over the window; but as he passed it the +second time he saw the old countess at the window. She beckoned +to Koznishev. + +"I'm going, you see, taking him as far as Kursk," she said. + +"Yes, so I heard," said Sergey Ivanovitch, standing at her window +and peeping in. "What a noble act on his part!" he added, +noticing that Vronsky was not in the compartment. + +"Yes, after his misfortune, what was there for him to do?" + +"What a terrible thing it was!" said Sergey Ivanovitch. + +"Ah, what I have been through! But do get in.... Ah, what I +have been through!" she repeated, when Sergey Ivanovitch had got +in and sat down beside her. "You can't conceive it! For six +weeks he did not speak to anyone, and would not touch food +except when I implored him. And not for one minute could we +leave him alone. We took away everything he could have used +against himself. We lived on the ground floor, but there was no +reckoning on anything. You know, of course, that he had shot +himself once already on her account," she said, and the old +lady's eyelashes twitched at the recollection. "Yes, hers was +the fitting end for such a woman. Even the death she chose was +low and vulgar." + +"It's not for us to judge, countess," said Sergey Ivanovitch; +"but I can understand that it has been very hard for you." + +"Ah, don't speak of it! I was staying on my estate, and he was +with me. A note was brought him. He wrote an answer and sent it +off. We hadn't an idea that she was close by at the station. In +the evening I had only just gone to my room, when my Mary told me +a lady had thrown herself under the train. Something seemed to +strike me at once. I knew it was she. The first thing I said +was, he was not to be told. But they'd told him already. His +coachman was there and saw it all. When I ran into his room, he +was beside himself--it was fearful to see him. He didn't say a +word, but galloped off there. I don't know to this day what +happened there, but he was brought back at death's door. I +shouldn't have known him. _Prostration complete,_ the doctor said. +And that was followed almost by madness. Oh, why talk of it!" +said the countess with a wave of her hand. "It was an awful +time! No, say what you will, she was a bad woman. Why, what is +the meaning of such desperate passions? It was all to show +herself something out of the way. Well, and that she did do. +She brought herself to ruin and two good men--her husband and my +unhappy son." + +"And what did her husband do?" asked Sergey Ivanovitch. + +"He has taken her daughter. Alexey was ready to agree to +anything at first. Now it worries him terribly that he should +have given his own child away to another man. But he can't take +back his word. Karenin came to the funeral. But we tried to +prevent his meeting Alexey. For him, for her husband, it was +easier, anyway. She had set him free. But my poor son was +utterly given up to her. He had thrown up everything, his +career, me, and even then she had no mercy on him, but of set +purpose she made his ruin complete. No, say what you will, her +very death was the death of a vile woman, of no religious +feeling. God forgive me, but I can't help hating the memory of +her, when I look at my son's misery!" + +"But how is he now?" + +"It was a blessing from Providence for us--this Servian war. I'm +old, and I don't understand the rights and wrongs of it, but it's +come as a providential blessing to him. Of course for me, as his +mother, it's terrible; and what's worse, they say, _ce n'est pas +tres bien vu a Petersbourg_. But it can't be helped! It was the +one thing that could rouse him. Yashvin--a friend of his--he had +lost all he had at cards and he was going to Servia. He came to +see him and persuaded him to go. Now it's an interest for him. +Do please talk to him a little. I want to distract his mind. +He's so low-spirited. And as bad luck would have it, he has +toothache too. But he'll be delighted to see you. Please do +talk to him; he's walking up and down on that side." + +Sergey Ivanovitch said he would be very glad to, and crossed over +to the other side of the station. + + + +Chapter 5 + + +In the slanting evening shadows cast by the baggage piled up on +the platform, Vronsky in his long overcoat and slouch hat, with +his hands in his pockets, strode up and down, like a wild beast +in a cage, turning sharply after twenty paces. Sergey Ivanovitch +fancied, as he approached him, that Vronsky saw him but was +pretending not to see. This did not affect Sergey Ivanovitch in +the slightest. He was above all personal considerations with +Vronsky. + +At that moment Sergey Ivanovitch looked upon Vronsky as a man +taking an important part in a great cause, and Koznishev thought +it his duty to encourage him and express his approval. He went +up to him. + +Vronsky stood still, looked intently at him, recognized him, and +going a few steps forward to meet him, shook hands with him very +warmly. + +"Possibly you didn't wish to see me," said Sergey Ivanovitch, +"but couldn't I be of use to you?" + +"There's no one I should less dislike seeing than you," said +Vronsky. "Excuse me; and there's nothing in life for me to +like." + +"I quite understand, and I merely meant to offer you my +services," said Sergey Ivanovitch, scanning Vronsky's face, full +of unmistakable suffering. "Wouldn't it be of use to you to have +a letter to Ristitch--to Milan?" + +"Oh, no!" Vronsky said, seeming to understand him with +difficulty. "If you don't mind, let's walk on. It's so stuffy +among the carriages. A letter? No, thank you; to meet death one +needs no letters of introduction. Nor for the Turks..." he said, +with a smile that was merely of the lips. His eyes still kept +their look of angry suffering. + +"Yes; but you might find it easier to get into relations, which +are after all essential, with anyone prepared to see you. But +that's as you like. I was very glad to hear of your intention. +There have been so many attacks made on the volunteers, and a man +like you raises them in public estimation." + +"My use as a man," said Vronsky, "is that life's worth nothing to +me. And that I've enough bodily energy to cut my way into their +ranks, and to trample on them or fall--I know that. I'm glad +there's something to give my life for, for it's not simply +useless but loathsome to me. Anyone's welcome to it." And his +jaw twitched impatiently from the incessant gnawing toothache, +that prevented him from even speaking with a natural expression. + +"You will become another man, I predict," said Sergey +Ivanovitch, feeling touched. "To deliver one's brother-men from +bondage is an aim worth death and life. God grant you success +outwardly--and inwardly peace," he added, and he held out his +hand. Vronsky warmly pressed his outstretched hand. + +"Yes, as a weapon I may be of some use. But as a man, I'm a +wreck," he jerked out. + +He could hardly speak for the throbbing ache in his strong teeth, +that were like rows of ivory in his mouth. He was silent, and +his eyes rested on the wheels of the tender, slowly and smoothly +rolling along the rails. + +And all at once a different pain, not an ache, but an inner +trouble, that set his whole being in anguish, made him for an +instant forget his toothache. As he glanced at the tender and +the rails, under the influence of the conversation with a friend +he had not met since his misfortune, he suddenly recalled +_her_--that is, what was left of her when he had run like one +distraught into the cloak room of the railway station--on the +table, shamelessly sprawling out among strangers, the +bloodstained body so lately full of life; the head unhurt +dropping back with its weight of hair, and the curling tresses +about the temples, and the exquisite face, with red, half-opened +mouth, the strange, fixed expression, piteous on the lips and +awful in the still open eyes, that seemed to utter that fearful +phrase--that he would be sorry for it--that she had said when +they were quarreling. + +And he tried to think of her as she was when he met her the first +time, at a railway station too, mysterious, exquisite, loving, +seeking and giving happiness, and not cruelly revengeful as he +remembered her on that last moment. He tried to recall his best +moments with her, but those moments were poisoned forever. He +could only think of her as triumphant, successful in her menace +of a wholly useless remorse never to be effaced. He lost all +consciousness of toothache, and his face worked with sobs. + +Passing twice up and down beside the baggage in silence and +regaining his self-possession, he addressed Sergey Ivanovitch +calmly: + +"You have had no telegrams since yesterday's? Yes, driven back +for a third time, but a decisive engagement expected for +tomorrow." + +And after talking a little more of King Milan's proclamation, and +the immense effect it might have, they parted, going to their +carriages on hearing the second bell. + + + +Chapter 6 + + +Sergey Ivanovitch had not telegraphed to his brother to send to +meet him, as he did not know when he should be able to leave +Moscow. Levin was not at home when Katavasov and Sergey +Ivanovitch in a fly hired at the station drove up to the steps of +the Pokrovskoe house, as black as Moors from the dust of the +road. Kitty, sitting on the balcony with her father and sister, +recognized her brother-in-law, and ran down to meet him. + +"What a shame not to have let us know," she said, giving her hand +to Sergey Ivanovitch, and putting her forehead up for him to +kiss. + +"We drove here capitally, and have not put you out," answered +Sergey Ivanovitch. "I'm so dirty. I'm afraid to touch you. +I've been so busy, I didn't know when I should be able to tear +myself away. And so you're still as ever enjoying your peaceful, +quiet happiness," he said, smiling, "out of the reach of the +current in your peaceful backwater. Here's our friend Fyodor +Vassilievitch who has succeeded in getting here at last." + +"But I'm not a negro, I shall look like a human being when I +wash," said Katavasov in his jesting fashion, and he shook hands +and smiled, his teeth flashing white in his black face. + +"Kostya will be delighted. He has gone to his settlement. It's +time he should be home." + +"Busy as ever with his farming. It really is a peaceful +backwater," said Katavasov; "while we in town think of nothing +but the Servian war. Well, how does our friend look at it? He's +sure not to think like other people." + +"Oh, I don't know, like everybody else," Kitty answered, a little +embarrassed, looking round at Sergey Ivanovitch. "I'll send to +fetch him. Papa's staying with us. He's only just come home +from abroad." + +And making arrangements to send for Levin and for the guests to +wash, one in his room and the other in what had been Dolly's, and +giving orders for their luncheon, Kitty ran out onto the balcony, +enjoying the freedom, and rapidity of movement, of which she had +been deprived during the months of her pregnancy. + +"It's Sergey Ivanovitch and Katavasov, a professor," she said. + +"Oh, that's a bore in this heat," said the prince. + +"No, papa, he's very nice, and Kostya's very fond of him," Kitty +said, with a deprecating smile, noticing the irony on her +father's face. + +"Oh, I didn't say anything." + +"You go to them, darling," said Kitty to her sister, "and +entertain them. They saw Stiva at the station; he was quite +well. And I must run to Mitya. As ill-luck would have it, I +haven't fed him since tea. He's awake now, and sure to be +screaming." And feeling a rush of milk, she hurried to the +nursery. + +This was not a mere guess; her connection with the child was +still so close, that she could gauge by the flow of her milk his +need of food, and knew for certain he was hungry. + +She knew he was crying before she reached the nursery. And he +was indeed crying. She heard him and hastened. But the faster +she went, the louder he screamed. It was a fine healthy scream, +hungry and impatient. + +"Has he been screaming long, nurse, very long?" said Kitty +hurriedly, seating herself on a chair, and preparing to give the +baby the breast. "But give me him quickly. Oh, nurse, how +tiresome you are! There, tie the cap afterwards, do!" + +The baby's greedy scream was passing into sobs. + +"But you can't manage so, ma'am," said Agafea Mihalovna, who was +almost always to be found in the nursery. "He must be put +straight. A-oo! a-oo!" she chanted over him, paying no attention +to the mother. + +The nurse brought the baby to his mother. Agafea Mihalovna +followed him with a face dissolving with tenderness. + +"He knows me, he knows me. In God's faith, Katerina +Alexandrovna, ma'am, he knew me!" Agafea Mihalovna cried above +the baby's screams. + +But Kitty did not hear her words. Her impatience kept growing, +like the baby's. + +Their impatience hindered things for a while. The baby could not +get hold of the breast right, and was furious. + +At last, after despairing, breathless screaming, and vain +sucking, things went right, and mother and child felt +simultaneously soothed, and both subsided into calm. + +"But poor darling, he's all in perspiration!" said Kitty in a +whisper, touching the baby. + +"What makes you think he knows you?" she added, with a sidelong +glance at the baby's eyes, that peered roguishly, as she fancied, +from under his cap, at his rhythmically puffing cheeks, and the +little red-palmed hand he was waving. + +"Impossible! If he knew anyone, he would have known me," said +Kitty, in response to Agafea Mihalovna's statement, and she +smiled. + +She smiled because, though she said he could not know her, in her +heart she was sure that he knew not merely Agafea Mihalovna, but +that he knew and understood everything, and knew and understood a +great deal too that no one else knew, and that she, his mother, +had learned and come to understand only through him. To Agafea +Mihalovna, to the nurse, to his grandfather, to his father even, +Mitya was a living being, requiring only material care, but for +his mother he had long been a mortal being, with whom there had +been a whole series of spiritual relations already. + +"When he wakes up, please God, you shall see for yourself. Then +when I do like this, he simply beams on me, the darling! Simply +beams like a sunny day!" said Agafea Mihalovna. + +"Well, well; then we shall see," whispered Kitty. "But now go +away, he's going to sleep." + + + +Chapter 7 + + +Agafea Mihalovna went out on tiptoe; the nurse let down the +blind, chased a fly out from under the muslin canopy of the crib, +and a bumblebee struggling on the window-frame, and sat down +waving a faded branch of birch over the mother and the baby. + +"How hot it is! if God would send a drop of rain," she said. + +"Yes, yes, sh--sh--sh--" was all Kitty answered, rocking a +little, and tenderly squeezing the plump little arm, with rolls +of fat at the wrist, which Mitya still waved feebly as he opened +and shut his eyes. That hand worried Kitty; she longed to kiss +the little hand, but was afraid to for fear of waking the baby. +At last the little hand ceased waving, and the eyes closed. Only +from time to time, as he went on sucking, the baby raised his +long, curly eyelashes and peeped at his mother with wet eyes, +that looked black in the twilight. The nurse had left off +fanning, and was dozing. From above came the peals of the old +prince's voice, and the chuckle of Katavasov. + +"They have got into talk without me," thought Kitty, "but still +it's vexing that Kostya's out. He's sure to have gone to the +bee house again. Though it's a pity he's there so often, still +I'm glad. It distracts his mind. He's become altogether happier +and better now than in the spring. He used to be so gloomy and +worried that I felt frightened for him. And how absurd he is!" +she whispered, smiling. + +She knew what worried her husband. It was his unbelief. +Although, if she had been asked whether she supposed that in the +future life, if he did not believe, he would be damned, she would +have had to admit that he would be damned, his unbelief did not +cause her unhappiness. And she, confessing that for an +unbeliever there can be no salvation, and loving her husband's +soul more than anything in the world, thought with a smile of his +unbelief, and told herself that he was absurd. + +"What does he keep reading philosophy of some sort for all this +year?" she wondered. "If it's all written in those books, he can +understand them. If it's all wrong, why does he read them? He +says himself that he would like to believe. Then why is it he +doesn't believe? Surely from his thinking so much? And he +thinks so much from being solitary. He's always alone, alone. +He can't talk about it all to us. I fancy he'll be glad of these +visitors, especially Katavasov. He likes discussions with them," +she thought, and passed instantly to the consideration of where +it would be more convenient to put Katavasov, to sleep alone or +to share Sergey Ivanovitch's room. And then an idea suddenly +struck her, which made her shudder and even disturb Mitya, who +glanced severely at her. "I do believe the laundress hasn't sent +the washing yet, and all the best sheets are in use. If I don't +see to it, Agafea Mihalovna will give Sergey Ivanovitch the wrong +sheets," and at the very idea of this the blood rushed to Kitty's +face. + +"Yes, I will arrange it," she decided, and going back to her +former thoughts, she remembered that some spiritual question of +importance had been interrupted, and she began to recall what. +"Yes, Kostya, an unbeliever," she thought again with a smile. + +"Well, an unbeliever then! Better let him always be one than +like Madame Stahl, or what I tried to be in those days abroad. +No, he won't ever sham anything." + +And a recent instance of his goodness rose vividly to her mind. +A fortnight ago a penitent letter had come from Stepan +Arkadyevitch to Dolly. He besought her to save his honor, to +sell her estate to pay his debts. Dolly was in despair, she +detested her husband, despised him, pitied him, resolved on a +separation, resolved to refuse, but ended by agreeing to sell +part of her property. After that, with an irrepressible smile of +tenderness, Kitty recalled her husband's shamefaced +embarrassment, his repeated awkward efforts to approach the +subject, and how at last, having thought of the one means of +helping Dolly without wounding her pride, he had suggested to +Kitty--what had not occurred to her before--that she should give +up her share of the property. + +"He an unbeliever indeed! With his heart, his dread of offending +anyone, even a child! Everything for others, nothing for +himself. Sergey Ivanovitch simply considers it as Kostya's duty +to be his steward. And it's the same with his sister. Now Dolly +and her children are under his guardianship; all these peasants +who come to him every day, as though he were bound to be at their +service." + +"Yes, only be like your father, only like him," she said, handing +Mitya over to the nurse, and putting her lips to his cheek. + + + +Chapter 8 + + +Ever since, by his beloved brother's deathbed, Levin had first +glanced into the questions of life and death in the light of +these new convictions, as he called them, which had during the +period from his twentieth to his thirty-fourth year imperceptibly +replaced his childish and youthful beliefs--he had been stricken +with horror, not so much of death, as of life, without any +knowledge of whence, and why, and how, and what it was. The +physical organization, its decay, the indestructibility of +matter, the law of the conservation of energy, evolution, were +the words which usurped the place of his old belief. These words +and the ideas associated with them were very well for +intellectual purposes. But for life they yielded nothing, and +Levin felt suddenly like a man who has changed his warm fur cloak +for a muslin garment, and going for the first time into the frost +is immediately convinced, not by reason, but by his whole nature +that he is as good as naked, and that he must infallibly perish +miserably. + +From that moment, though he did not distinctly face it, and still +went on living as before, Levin had never lost this sense of +terror at his lack of knowledge. + +He vaguely felt, too, that what he called his new convictions +were not merely lack of knowledge, but that they were part of a +whole order of ideas, in which no knowledge of what he needed was +possible. + +At first, marriage, with the new joys and duties bound up with +it, had completely crowded out these thoughts. But of late, +while he was staying in Moscow after his wife's confinement, with +nothing to do, the question that clamored for solution had more +and more often, more and more insistently, haunted Levin's mind. + +The question was summed up for him thus: "If I do not accept the +answers Christianity gives to the problems of my life, what +answers do I accept?" And in the whole arsenal of his +convictions, so far from finding any satisfactory answers, he was +utterly unable to find anything at all like an answer. + +He was in the position of a man seeking food in toy shops and +tool shops. + +Instinctively, unconsciously, with every book, with every +conversation, with every man he met, he was on the lookout for +light on these questions and their solution. + +What puzzled and distracted him above everything was that the +majority of men of his age and circle had, like him, exchanged +their old beliefs for the same new convictions, and yet saw +nothing to lament in this, and were perfectly satisfied and +serene. So that, apart from the principal question, Levin was +tortured by other questions too. Were these people sincere? he +asked himself, or were they playing a part? or was it that they +understood the answers science gave to these problems in some +different, clearer sense than he did? And he assiduously studied +both these men's opinions and the books which treated of these +scientific explanations. + +One fact he had found out since these questions had engrossed his +mind, was that he had been quite wrong in supposing from the +recollections of the circle of his young days at college, that +religion had outlived its day, and that it was now practically +non-existent. All the people nearest to him who were good in +their lives were believers. The old prince, and Lvov, whom he +liked so much, and Sergey Ivanovitch, and all the women believed, +and his wife believed as simply as he had believed in his +earliest childhood, and ninety-nine hundredths of the Russian +people, all the working people for whose life he felt the deepest +respect, believed. + +Another fact of which he became convinced, after reading many +scientific books, was that the men who shared his views had no +other construction to put on them, and that they gave no +explanation of the questions which he felt he could not live +without answering, but simply ignored their existence and +attempted to explain other questions of no possible interest to +him, such as the evolution of organisms, the materialistic theory +of consciousness, and so forth. + +Moreover, during his wife's confinement, something had happened +that seemed extraordinary to him. He, an unbeliever, had fallen +into praying, and at the moment he prayed, he believed. But that +moment had passed, and he could not make his state of mind at +that moment fit into the rest of his life. + +He could not admit that at that moment he knew the truth, and +that now he was wrong; for as soon as he began thinking calmly +about it, it all fell to pieces. He could not admit that he was +mistaken then, for his spiritual condition then was precious to +him, and to admit that it was a proof of weakness would have been +to desecrate those moments. He was miserably divided against +himself, and strained all his spiritual forces to the utmost to +escape from this condition. + + + +Chapter 9 + + +These doubts fretted and harassed him, growing weaker or stronger +from time to time, but never leaving him. He read and thought, +and the more he read and the more he thought, the further he felt +from the aim he was pursuing. + +Of late in Moscow and in the country, since he had become +convinced that he would find no solution in the materialists, he +had read and re-read thoroughly Plato, Spinoza, Kant, Schelling, +Hegel, and Schopenhauer, the philosophers who gave a +non-materialistic explanation of life. + +Their ideas seemed to him fruitful when he was reading or was +himself seeking arguments to refute other theories, especially +those of the materialists; but as soon as he began to read or +sought for himself a solution of problems, the same thing always +happened. As long as he followed the fixed definition of obscure +words such as _spirit, will, freedom, essence,_ purposely letting +himself go into the snare of words the philosophers set for him, +he seemed to comprehend something. But he had only to forget the +artificial train of reasoning, and to turn from life itself to +what had satisfied him while thinking in accordance with the +fixed definitions, and all this artificial edifice fell to pieces +at once like a house of cards, and it became clear that the +edifice had been built up out of those transposed words, apart +from anything in life more important than reason. + +At one time, reading Schopenhauer, he put in place of his will +the word _love_, and for a couple of days this new philosophy +charmed him, till he removed a little away from it. But then, +when he turned from life itself to glance at it again, it fell +away too, and proved to be the same muslin garment with no warmth +in it. + +His brother Sergey Ivanovitch advised him to read the theological +works of Homiakov. Levin read the second volume of Homiakov's +works, and in spite of the elegant, epigrammatic, argumentative +style which at first repelled him, he was impressed by the +doctrine of the church he found in them. He was struck at first +by the idea that the apprehension of divine truths had not been +vouchsafed to man, but to a corporation of men bound together by +love--to the church. What delighted him was the thought how much +easier it was to believe in a still existing living church, +embracing all the beliefs of men, and having God at its head, and +therefore holy and infallible, and from it to accept the faith in +God, in the creation, the fall, the redemption, than to begin +with God, a mysterious, far-away God, the creation, etc. But +afterwards, on reading a Catholic writer's history of the church, +and then a Greek orthodox writer's history of the church, and +seeing that the two churches, in their very conception +infallible, each deny the authority of the other, Homiakov's +doctrine of the church lost all its charm for him, and this +edifice crumbled into dust like the philosophers' edifices. + +All that spring he was not himself, and went through fearful +moments of horror. + +"Without knowing what I am and why I am here, life's impossible; +and that I can't know, and so I can't live," Levin said to +himself. + +"In infinite time, in infinite matter, in infinite space, is +formed a bubble-organism, and that bubble lasts a while and +bursts, and that bubble is Me." + +It was an agonizing error, but it was the sole logical result of +ages of human thought in that direction. + +This was the ultimate belief on which all the systems elaborated +by human thought in almost all their ramifications rested. It +was the prevalent conviction, and of all other explanations Levin +had unconsciously, not knowing when or how, chosen it, as anyway +the clearest, and made it his own. + +But it was not merely a falsehood, it was the cruel jeer of some +wicked power, some evil, hateful power, to whom one could not +submit. + +He must escape from this power. And the means of escape every +man had in his own hands. He had but to cut short this +dependence on evil. And there was one means--death. + +And Levin, a happy father and husband, in perfect health, was +several times so near suicide that he hid the cord that he might +not be tempted to hang himself, and was afraid to go out with his +gun for fear of shooting himself. + +But Levin did not shoot himself, and did not hang himself; he +went on living. + + + +Chapter 10 + + +When Levin thought what he was and what he was living for, he +could find no answer to the questions and was reduced to despair, +but he left off questioning himself about it. It seemed as +though he knew both what he was and for what he was living, for +he acted and lived resolutely and without hesitation. Indeed, in +these latter days he was far more decided and unhesitating in +life than he had ever been. + +When he went back to the country at the beginning of June, he +went back also to his usual pursuits. The management of the +estate, his relations with the peasants and the neighbors, the +care of his household, the management of his sister's and +brother's property, of which he had the direction, his relations +with his wife and kindred, the care of his child, and the new +bee-keeping hobby he had taken up that spring, filled all his +time. + +These things occupied him now, not because he justified them to +himself by any sort of general principles, as he had done in +former days; on the contrary, disappointed by the failure of his +former efforts for the general welfare, and too much occupied +with his own thought and the mass of business with which he was +burdened from all sides, he had completely given up thinking of +the general good, and he busied himself with all this work simply +because it seemed to him that he must do what he was doing--that +he could not do otherwise. In former days--almost from +childhood, and increasingly up to full manhood--when he had tried +to do anything that would be good for all, for humanity, for +Russia, for the whole village, he had noticed that the idea of it +had been pleasant, but the work itself had always been +incoherent, that then he had never had a full conviction of its +absolute necessity, and that the work that had begun by seeming +so great, had grown less and less, till it vanished into nothing. +But now, since his marriage, when he had begun to confine himself +more and more to living for himself, though he experienced no +delight at all at the thought of the work he was doing, he felt a +complete conviction of its necessity, saw that it succeeded far +better than in old days, and that it kept on growing more and +more. + +Now, involuntarily it seemed, he cut more and more deeply into +the soil like a plough, so that he could not be drawn out without +turning aside the furrow. + +To live the same family life as his father and forefathers--that +is, in the same condition of culture--and to bring up his +children in the same, was incontestably necessary. It was as +necessary as dining when one was hungry. And to do this, just as +it was necessary to cook dinner, it was necessary to keep the +mechanism of agriculture at Pokrovskoe going so as to yield an +income. Just as incontestably as it was necessary to repay a +debt was it necessary to keep the property in such a condition +that his son, when he received it as a heritage, would say "thank +you" to his father as Levin had said "thank you" to his +grandfather for all he built and planted. And to do this it was +necessary to look after the land himself, not to let it, and to +breed cattle, manure the fields, and plant timber. + +It was impossible not to look after the affairs of Sergey +Ivanovitch, of his sister, of the peasants who came to him for +advice and were accustomed to do so--as impossible as to fling +down a child one is carrying in one's arms. It was necessary to +look after the comfort of his sister-in-law and her children, and +of his wife and baby, and it was impossible not to spend with +them at least a short time each day. + +And all this, together with shooting and his new bee-keeping, +filled up the whole of Levin's life, which had no meaning at all +for him, when he began to think. + +But besides knowing thoroughly what he had to do, Levin knew in +just the same way _how_ he had to do it all, and what was more +important than the rest. + +He knew he must hire laborers as cheaply as possible; but to hire +men under bond, paying them in advance at less than the current +rate of wages, was what he must not do, even though it was very +profitable. Selling straw to the peasants in times of scarcity +of provender was what he might do, even though he felt sorry for +them; but the tavern and the pothouse must be put down, though +they were a source of income. Felling timber must be punished as +severely as possible, but he could not exact forfeits for cattle +being driven onto his fields; and though it annoyed the keeper +and made the peasants not afraid to graze their cattle on his +land, he could not keep their cattle as a punishment. + +To Pyotr, who was paying a money-lender 10 per cent. a month, he +must lend a sum of money to set him free. But he could not let +off peasants who did not pay their rent, nor let them fall into +arrears. It was impossible to overlook the bailiff's not having +mown the meadows and letting the hay spoil; and it was equally +impossible to mow those acres where a young copse had been +planted. It was impossible to excuse a laborer who had gone home +in the busy season because his father was dying, however sorry he +might feel for him, and he must subtract from his pay those +costly months of idleness. But it was impossible not to allow +monthly rations to the old servants who were of no use for +anything. + +Levin knew that when he got home he must first of all go to his +wife, who was unwell, and that the peasants who had been waiting +for three hours to see him could wait a little longer. He knew +too that, regardless of all the pleasure he felt in taking a +swarm, he must forego that pleasure, and leave the old man to see +to the bees alone, while he talked to the peasants who had come +after him to the bee-house. + +Whether he were acting rightly or wrongly he did not know, and +far from trying to prove that he was, nowadays he avoided all +thought or talk about it. + +Reasoning had brought him to doubt, and prevented him from seeing +what he ought to do and what he ought not. When he did not +think, but simply lived, he was continually aware of the presence +of an infallible judge in his soul, determining which of two +possible courses of action was the better and which was the +worse, and as soon as he did not act rightly, he was at once +aware of it. + +So he lived, not knowing and not seeing any chance of knowing +what he was and what he was living for, and harassed at this lack +of knowledge to such a point that he was afraid of suicide, and +yet firmly laying down his own individual definite path in life. + + + +Chapter 11 + + +The day on which Sergey Ivanovitch came to Pokrovskoe was one of +Levin's most painful days. It was the very busiest working time, +when all the peasantry show an extraordinary intensity of +self-sacrifice in labor, such as is never shown in any other +conditions of life, and would be highly esteemed if the men who +showed these qualities themselves thought highly of them, and if +it were not repeated every year, and if the results of this +intense labor were not so simple. + +To reap and bind the rye and oats and to carry it, to mow the +meadows, turn over the fallows, thrash the seed and sow the +winter corn--all this seems so simple and ordinary; but to +succeed in getting through it all everyone in the village, from +the old man to the young child, must toil incessantly for three +or four weeks, three times as hard as usual, living on rye-beer, +onions, and black bread, thrashing and carrying the sheaves at +night, and not giving more than two or three hours in the +twenty-four to sleep. And every year this is done all over +Russia. + +Having lived the greater part of his life in the country and in +the closest relations with the peasants, Levin always felt in +this busy time that he was infected by this general quickening of +energy in the people. + +In the early morning he rode over to the first sowing of the rye, +and to the oats, which were being carried to the stacks, and +returning home at the time his wife and sister-in-law were +getting up, he drank coffee with them and walked to the farm, +where a new thrashing machine was to be set working to get ready +the seed-corn. + +He was standing in the cool granary, still fragrant with the +leaves of the hazel branches interlaced on the freshly peeled +aspen beams of the new thatch roof. He gazed through the open +door in which the dry bitter dust of the thrashing whirled and +played, at the grass of the thrashing floor in the sunlight and +the fresh straw that had been brought in from the barn, then at +the speckly-headed, white-breasted swallows that flew chirping in +under the roof and, fluttering their wings, settled in the +crevices of the doorway, then at the peasants bustling in the +dark, dusty barn, and he thought strange thoughts. + +"Why is it all being done?" he thought. "Why am I standing here, +making them work? What are they all so busy for, trying to show +their zeal before me? What is that old Matrona, my old friend, +toiling for? (I doctored her, when the beam fell on her in the +fire)" he thought, looking at a thin old woman who was raking up +the grain, moving painfully with her bare, sun-blackened feet +over the uneven, rough floor. "Then she recovered, but today or +tomorrow or in ten years she won't; they'll bury her, and +nothing will be left either of her or of that smart girl in the +red jacket, who with that skillful, soft action shakes the ears +out of their husks. They'll bury her and this piebald horse, and +very soon too," he thought, gazing at the heavily moving, panting +horse that kept walking up the wheel that turned under him. "And +they will bury her and Fyodor the thrasher with his curly beard +full of chaff and his shirt torn on his white shoulders--they +will bury him. He's untying the sheaves, and giving orders, and +shouting to the women, and quickly setting straight the strap on +the moving wheel. And what's more, it's not them alone--me +they'll bury too, and nothing will be left. What for?" + +He thought this, and at the same time looked at his watch to +reckon how much they thrashed in an hour. He wanted to know this +so as to judge by it the task to set for the day. + +"It'll soon be one, and they're only beginning the third sheaf," +thought Levin. He went up to the man that was feeding the +machine, and shouting over the roar of the machine he told him to +put it in more slowly. "You put in too much at a time, Fyodor. +Do you see--it gets choked, that's why it isn't getting on. Do +it evenly." + +Fyodor, black with the dust that clung to his moist face, shouted +something in response, but still went on doing it as Levin did +not want him to. + +Levin, going up to the machine, moved Fyodor aside, and began +feeding the corn in himself. Working on till the peasants' +dinner hour, which was not long in coming, he went out of the +barn with Fyodor and fell into talk with him, stopping beside a +neat yellow sheaf of rye laid on the thrashing floor for seed. + +Fyodor came from a village at some distance from the one in which +Levin had once allotted land to his cooperative association. Now +it had been let to a former house porter. + +Levin talked to Fyodor about this land and asked whether Platon, +a well-to-do peasant of good character belonging to the same +village, would not take the land for the coming year. + +"It's a high rent; it wouldn't pay Platon, Konstantin +Dmitrievitch," answered the peasant, picking the ears off his +sweat-drenched shirt. + +"But how does Kirillov make it pay?" + +"Mituh!" (so the peasant called the house porter, in a tone of +contempt), "you may be sure he'll make it pay, Konstantin +Dmitrievitch! He'll get his share, however he has to squeeze to +get it! He's no mercy on a Christian. But Uncle Fokanitch" (so +he called the old peasant Platon), "do you suppose he'd flay the +skin off a man? Where there's debt, he'll let anyone off. And +he'll not wring the last penny out. He's a man too." + +"But why will he let anyone off?" + +"Oh, well, of course, folks are different. One man lives for his +own wants and nothing else, like Mituh, he only thinks of filling +his belly, but Fokanitch is a righteous man. He lives for his +soul. He does not forget God." + +"How thinks of God? How does he live for his soul?" Levin almost +shouted. + +"Why, to be sure, in truth, in God's way. Folks are different. +Take you now, you wouldn't wrong a man...." + +"Yes, yes, good-bye!" said Levin, breathless with excitement, and +turning round he took his stick and walked quickly away towards +home. At the peasant's words that Fokanitch lived for his soul, +in truth, in God's way, undefined but significant ideas seemed to +burst out as though they had been locked up, and all striving +towards one goal, they thronged whirling through his head, +blinding him with their light. + + + +Chapter 12 + + +Levin strode along the highroad, absorbed not so much in his +thoughts (he could not yet disentangle them) as in his spiritual +condition, unlike anything he had experienced before. + +The words uttered by the peasant had acted on his soul like an +electric shock, suddenly transforming and combining into a single +whole the whole swarm of disjointed, impotent, separate thoughts +that incessantly occupied his mind. These thoughts had +unconsciously been in his mind even when he was talking about the +land. + +He was aware of something new in his soul, and joyfully tested +this new thing, not yet knowing what it was. + +"Not living for his own wants, but for God? For what God? And +could one say anything more senseless than what he said? He said +that one must not live for one's own wants, that is, that one +must not live for what we understand, what we are attracted by, +what we desire, but must live for something incomprehensible, for +God, whom no one can understand nor even define. What of it? +Didn't I understand those senseless words of Fyodor's? And +understanding them, did I doubt of their truth? Did I think them +stupid, obscure, inexact? No, I understood him, and exactly as +he understands the words. I understood them more fully and +clearly than I understand anything in life, and never in my life +have I doubted nor can I doubt about it. And not only I, but +everyone, the whole world understands nothing fully but this, and +about this only they have no doubt and are always agreed. + +"And I looked out for miracles, complained that I did not see a +miracle which would convince me. A material miracle would have +persuaded me. And here is a miracle, the sole miracle possible, +continually existing, surrounding me on all sides, and I never +noticed it! + +"Fyodor says that Kirillov lives for his belly. That's +comprehensible and rational. All of us as rational beings can't +do anything else but live for our belly. And all of a sudden the +same Fyodor says that one mustn't live for one's belly, but must +live for truth, for God, and at a hint I understand him! And I +and millions of men, men who lived ages ago and men living now-- +peasants, the poor in spirit and the learned, who have thought +and written about it, in their obscure words saying the same +thing--we are all agreed about this one thing: what we must live +for and what is good. I and all men have only one firm, +incontestable, clear knowledge, and that knowledge cannot be +explained by the reason--it is outside it, and has no causes and +can have no effects. + +"If goodness has causes, it is not goodness; if it has effects, a +reward, it is not goodness either. So goodness is outside the +chain of cause and effect. + +"And yet I know it, and we all know it. + +"What could be a greater miracle than that? + +"Can I have found the solution of it all? can my sufferings be +over?" thought Levin, striding along the dusty road, not noticing +the heat nor his weariness, and experiencing a sense of relief +from prolonged suffering. This feeling was so delicious that it +seemed to him incredible. He was breathless with emotion and +incapable of going farther; he turned off the road into the +forest and lay down in the shade of an aspen on the uncut grass. +He took his hat off his hot head and lay propped on his elbow in +the lush, feathery, woodland grass. + +"Yes, I must make it clear to myself and understand," he thought, +looking intently at the untrampled grass before him, and +following the movements of a green beetle, advancing along a +blade of couch-grass and lifting up in its progress a leaf of +goat-weed. "What have I discovered?" he asked himself, bending +aside the leaf of goat-weed out of the beetle's way and twisting +another blade of grass above for the beetle to cross over onto +it. "What is it makes me glad? What have I discovered? + +"I have discovered nothing. I have only found out what I knew. +I understand the force that in the past gave me life, and now too +gives me life. I have been set free from falsity, I have found +the Master. + +"Of old I used to say that in my body, that in the body of this +grass and of this beetle (there, she didn't care for the grass, +she's opened her wings and flown away), there was going on a +transformation of matter in accordance with physical, chemical, +and physiological laws. And in all of us, as well as in the +aspens and the clouds and the misty patches, there was a process +of evolution. Evolution from what? into what?--Eternal evolution +and struggle.... As though there could be any sort of tendency +and struggle in the eternal! And I was astonished that in spite +of the utmost effort of thought along that road I could not +discover the meaning of life, the meaning of my impulses and +yearnings. Now I say that I know the meaning of my life: 'To +live for God, for my soul.' And this meaning, in spite of its +clearness, is mysterious and marvelous. Such, indeed, is the +meaning of everything existing. Yes, pride," he said to himself, +turning over on his stomach and beginning to tie a noose of +blades of grass, trying not to break them. + +"And not merely pride of intellect, but dulness of intellect. +And most of all, the deceitfulness; yes, the deceitfulness of +intellect. The cheating knavishness of intellect, that's it," he +said to himself. + +And he briefly went through, mentally, the whole course of his +ideas during the last two years, the beginning of which was the +clear confronting of death at the sight of his dear brother +hopelessly ill. + +Then, for the first time, grasping that for every man, and +himself too, there was nothing in store but suffering, death, and +forgetfulness, he had made up his mind that life was impossible +like that, and that he must either interpret life so that it +would not present itself to him as the evil jest of some devil, +or shoot himself. + +But he had not done either, but had gone on living, thinking, and +feeling, and had even at that very time married, and had had many +joys and had been happy, when he was not thinking of the meaning +of his life. + +What did this mean? It meant that he had been living rightly, +but thinking wrongly. + +He had lived (without being aware of it) on those spiritual +truths that he had sucked in with his mother's milk, but he had +thought, not merely without recognition of these truths, but +studiously ignoring them. + +Now it was clear to him that he could only live by virtue of the +beliefs in which he had been brought up. + +"What should I have been, and how should I have spent my life, if +I had not had these beliefs, if I had not known that I must live +for God and not for my own desires? I should have robbed and +lied and killed. Nothing of what makes the chief happiness of my +life would have existed for me." And with the utmost stretch of +imagination he could not conceive the brutal creature he would +have been himself, if he had not known what he was living for. + +"I looked for an answer to my question. And thought could not +give an answer to my question--it is incommensurable with my +question. The answer has been given me by life itself, in my +knowledge of what is right and what is wrong. And that knowledge +I did not arrive at in any way, it was given to me as to all +men, _given_, because I could not have got it from anywhere. + +"Where could I have got it? By reason could I have arrived at +knowing that I must love my neighbor and not oppress him? I was +told that in my childhood, and I believed it gladly, for they +told me what was already in my soul. But who discovered it? Not +reason. Reason discovered the struggle for existence, and the +law that requires us to oppress all who hinder the satisfaction +of our desires. That is the deduction of reason. But loving +one's neighbor reason could never discover, because it's +irrational." + + + +Chapter 13 + + +And Levin remembered a scene he had lately witnessed between +Dolly and her children. The children, left to themselves, had +begun cooking raspberries over the candles and squirting milk +into each other's mouths with a syringe. Their mother, catching +them at these pranks, began reminding them in Levin's presence of +the trouble their mischief gave to the grown-up people, and that +this trouble was all for their sake, and that if they smashed the +cups they would have nothing to drink their tea out of, and that +if they wasted the milk, they would have nothing to eat, and die +of hunger. + +And Levin had been struck by the passive, weary incredulity with +which the children heard what their mother said to them. They +were simply annoyed that their amusing play had been interrupted, +and did not believe a word of what their mother was saying. They +could not believe it indeed, for they could not take in the +immensity of all they habitually enjoyed, and so could not +conceive that what they were destroying was the very thing they +lived by. + +"That all comes of itself," they thought, "and there's nothing +interesting or important about it because it has always been so, +and always will be so. And it's all always the same. We've no +need to think about that, it's all ready. But we want to invent +something of our own, and new. So we thought of putting +raspberries in a cup, and cooking them over a candle, and +squirting milk straight into each other's mouths. That's fun, +and something new, and not a bit worse than drinking out of +cups." + +"Isn't it just the same that we do, that I did, searching by the +aid of reason for the significance of the forces of nature and +the meaning of the life of man?" he thought. + +"And don't all the theories of philosophy do the same, trying by +the path of thought, which is strange and not natural to man, to +bring him to a knowledge of what he has known long ago, and knows +so certainly that he could not live at all without it? Isn't it +distinctly to be seen in the development of each philosopher's +theory, that he knows what is the chief significance of life +beforehand, just as positively as the peasant Fyodor, and not a +bit more clearly than he, and is simply trying by a dubious +intellectual path to come back to what everyone knows? + +"Now then, leave the children to themselves to get things alone +and make their crockery, get the milk from the cows, and so on. +Would they be naughty then? Why, they'd die of hunger! Well, +then, leave us with our passions and thoughts, without any idea +of the one God, of the Creator, or without any idea of what is +right, without any idea of moral evil. + +"Just try and build up anything without those ideas! + +"We only try to destroy them, because we're spiritually provided +for. Exactly like the children! + +"Whence have I that joyful knowledge, shared with the peasant, +that alone gives peace to my soul? Whence did I get it? + +"Brought up with an idea of God, a Christian, my whole life +filled with the spiritual blessings Christianity has given me, +full of them, and living on those blessings, like the children I +did not understand them, and destroy, that is try to destroy, +what I live by. And as soon as an important moment of life +comes, like the children when they are cold and hungry, I turn to +Him, and even less than the children when their mother scolds +them for their childish mischief, do I feel that my childish +efforts at wanton madness are reckoned against me. + +"Yes, what I know, I know not by reason, but it has been given to +me, revealed to me, and I know it with my heart, by faith in the +chief thing taught by the church. + +"The church! the church!" Levin repeated to himself. He turned +over on the other side, and leaning on his elbow, fell to gazing +into the distance at a herd of cattle crossing over to the river. + +"But can I believe in all the church teaches?" he thought, trying +himself, and thinking of everything that could destroy his +present peace of mind. Intentionally he recalled all those +doctrines of the church which had always seemed most strange and +had always been a stumbling block to him. + +"The Creation? But how did I explain existence? By existence? +By nothing? The devil and sin. But how do I explain evil?... +The atonement?... + +"But I know nothing, nothing, and I can know nothing but what has +been told to me and all men." + +And it seemed to him that there was not a single article of faith +of the church which could destroy the chief thing--faith in God, +in goodness, as the one goal of man's destiny. + +Under every article of faith of the church could be put the faith +in the service of truth instead of one's desires. And each +doctrine did not simply leave that faith unshaken, each doctrine +seemed essential to complete that great miracle, continually +manifest upon earth, that made it possible for each man and +millions of different sorts of men, wise men and imbeciles, old +men and children--all men, peasants, Lvov, Kitty, beggars and +kings to understand perfectly the same one thing, and to build up +thereby that life of the soul which alone is worth living, and +which alone is precious to us. + +Lying on his back, he gazed up now into the high, cloudless sky. +"Do I not know that that is infinite space, and that it is not a +round arch? But, however I screw up my eyes and strain my sight, +I cannot see it not round and not bounded, and in spite of my +knowing about infinite space, I am incontestably right when I see +a solid blue dome, and more right than when I strain my eyes to +see beyond it." + +Levin ceased thinking, and only, as it were, listened to +mysterious voices that seemed talking joyfully and earnestly +within him. + +"Can this be faith?" he thought, afraid to believe in his +happiness. "My God, I thank Thee!" he said, gulping down his +sobs, and with both hands brushing away the tears that filled his +eyes. + + + +Chapter 14 + + +Levin looked before him and saw a herd of cattle, then he caught +sight of his trap with Raven in the shafts, and the coachman, +who, driving up to the herd, said something to the herdsman. +Then he heard the rattle of the wheels and the snort of the sleek +horse close by him. But he was so buried in his thoughts that he +did not even wonder why the coachman had come for him. + +He only thought of that when the coachman had driven quite up to +him and shouted to him. "The mistress sent me. Your brother has +come, and some gentleman with him." + +Levin got into the trap and took the reins. As though just +roused out of sleep, for a long while Levin could not collect his +faculties. He stared at the sleek horse flecked with lather +between his haunches and on his neck, where the harness rubbed, +stared at Ivan the coachman sitting beside him, and remembered +that he was expecting his brother, thought that his wife was most +likely uneasy at his long absence, and tried to guess who was the +visitor who had come with his brother. And his brother and his +wife and the unknown guest seemed to him now quite different from +before. He fancied that now his relations with all men would be +different. + +"With my brother there will be none of that aloofness there +always used to be between us, there will be no disputes; with +Kitty there shall never be quarrels; with the visitor, whoever he +may be, I will be friendly and nice; with the servants, with +Ivan, it will all be different." + +Pulling the stiff rein and holding in the good horse that snorted +with impatience and seemed begging to be let go, Levin looked +round at Ivan sitting beside him, not knowing what to do with his +unoccupied hand, continually pressing down his shirt as it puffed +out, and he tried to find something to start a conversation about +with him. He would have said that Ivan had pulled the +saddle-girth up too high, but that was like blame, and he longed +for friendly, warm talk. Nothing else occurred to him. + +"Your honor must keep to the right and mind that stump," said the +coachman, pulling the rein Levin held. + +"Please don't touch and don't teach me!" said Levin, angered by +this interference. Now, as always, interference made him angry, +and he felt sorrowfully at once how mistaken had been his +supposition that his spiritual condition could immediately change +him in contact with reality. + +He was not a quarter of a mile from home when he saw Grisha and +Tanya running to meet him. + +"Uncle Kostya! mamma's coming, and grandfather, and Sergey +Ivanovitch, and someone else," they said, clambering up into the +trap. + +"Who is he?" + +"An awfully terrible person! And he does like this with his +arms," said Tanya, getting up in the trap and mimicking +Katavasov. + +"Old or young?" asked Levin, laughing, reminded of someone, he +did not know whom, by Tanya's performance. + +"Oh, I hope it's not a tiresome person!" thought Levin. + +As soon as he turned, at a bend in the road, and saw the party +coming, Levin recognized Katavasov in a straw hat, walking along +swinging his arms just as Tanya had shown him. Katavasov was +very fond of discussing metaphysics, having derived his notions +from natural science writers who had never studied metaphysics, +and in Moscow Levin had had many arguments with him of late. + +And one of these arguments, in which Katavasov had obviously +considered that he came off victorious, was the first thing Levin +thought of as he recognized him. + +"No, whatever I do, I won't argue and give utterance to my ideas +lightly," he thought. + +Getting out of the trap and greeting his brother and Katavasov, +Levin asked about his wife. + +"She has taken Mitya to Kolok" (a copse near the house). "She +meant to have him out there because it's so hot indoors," said +Dolly. Levin had always advised his wife not to take the baby to +the wood, thinking it unsafe, and he was not pleased to hear +this. + +"She rushes about from place to place with him," said the prince, +smiling. "I advised her to try putting him in the ice cellar." + +"She meant to come to the bee house. She thought you would be +there. We are going there," said Dolly. + +"Well, and what are you doing?" said Sergey Ivanovitch, falling +back from the rest and walking beside him. + +"Oh, nothing special. Busy as usual with the land," answered +Levin. "Well, and what about you? Come for long? We have been +expecting you for such a long time." + +"Only for a fortnight. I've a great deal to do in Moscow." + +At these words the brothers' eyes met, and Levin, in spite of the +desire he always had, stronger than ever just now, to be on +affectionate and still more open terms with his brother, felt an +awkwardness in looking at him. He dropped his eyes and did not +know what to say. + +Casting over the subjects of conversation that would be pleasant +to Sergey Ivanovitch, and would keep him off the subject of the +Servian war and the Slavonic question, at which he had hinted by +the allusion to what he had to do in Moscow, Levin began to talk +of Sergey Ivanovitch's book. + +"Well, have there been reviews of your book?" he asked. + +Sergey Ivanovitch smiled at the intentional character of the +question. + +"No one is interested in that now, and I less than anyone," he +said. "Just look, Darya Alexandrovna, we shall have a shower," +he added, pointing with a sunshade at the white rain clouds that +showed above the aspen tree-tops. + +And these words were enough to re-establish again between the +brothers that tone--hardly hostile, but chilly--which Levin had +been so longing to avoid. + +Levin went up to Katavasov. + +"It was jolly of you to make up your mind to come," he said to +him. + +"I've been meaning to a long while. Now we shall have some +discussion, we'll see to that. Have you been reading Spencer?" + +"No, I've not finished reading him," said Levin. "But I don't +need him now." + +"How's that? that's interesting. Why so?" + +"I mean that I'm fully convinced that the solution of the +problems that interest me I shall never find in him and his like. +Now..." + +But Katavasov's serene and good-humored expression suddenly +struck him, and he felt such tenderness for his own happy mood, +which he was unmistakably disturbing by this conversation, that +he remembered his resolution and stopped short. + +"But we'll talk later on," he added. "If we're going to the +bee house, it's this way, along this little path," he said, +addressing them all. + +Going along the narrow path to a little uncut meadow covered on +one side with thick clumps of brilliant heart's-ease among which +stood up here and there tall, dark green tufts of hellebore, +Levin settled his guests in the dense, cool shade of the young +aspens on a bench and some stumps purposely put there for +visitors to the bee house who might be afraid of the bees, and he +went off himself to the hut to get bread, cucumbers, and fresh +honey, to regale them with. + +Trying to make his movements as deliberate as possible, and +listening to the bees that buzzed more and more frequently past +him, he walked along the little path to the hut. In the very +entry one bee hummed angrily, caught in his beard, but he +carefully extricated it. Going into the shady outer room, he +took down from the wall his veil, that hung on a peg, and putting +it on, and thrusting his hands into his pockets, he went into the +fenced-in bee-garden, where there stood in the midst of a closely +mown space in regular rows, fastened with bast on posts, all the +hives he knew so well, the old stocks, each with its own history, +and along the fences the younger swarms hived that year. In +front of the openings of the hives, it made his eyes giddy to +watch the bees and drones whirling round and round about the same +spot, while among them the working bees flew in and out with +spoils or in search of them, always in the same direction into +the wood to the flowering lime trees and back to the hives. + +His ears were filled with the incessant hum in various notes, now +the busy hum of the working bee flying quickly off, then the +blaring of the lazy drone, and the excited buzz of the bees on +guard protecting their property from the enemy and preparing to +sting. On the farther side of the fence the old bee-keeper was +shaving a hoop for a tub, and he did not see Levin. Levin stood +still in the midst of the beehives and did not call him. + +He was glad of a chance to be alone to recover from the influence +of ordinary actual life, which had already depressed his happy +mood. He thought that he had already had time to lose his temper +with Ivan, to show coolness to his brother, and to talk +flippantly with Katavasov. + +"Can it have been only a momentary mood, and will it pass and +leave no trace?" he thought. But the same instant, going back to +his mood, he felt with delight that something new and important +had happened to him. Real life had only for a time overcast the +spiritual peace he had found, but it was still untouched within +him. + +Just as the bees, whirling round him, now menacing him and +distracting his attention, prevented him from enjoying complete +physical peace, forced him to restrain his movements to avoid +them, so had the petty cares that had swarmed about him from the +moment he got into the trap restricted his spiritual freedom; but +that lasted only so long as he was among them. Just as his +bodily strength was still unaffected, in spite of the bees, so +too was the spiritual strength that he had just become aware of. + + + +Chapter 15 + + +"Do you know, Kostya, with whom Sergey Ivanovitch traveled on his +way here?" said Dolly, doling out cucumbers and honey to the +children; "with Vronsky! He's going to Servia." + +"And not alone; he's taking a squadron out with him at his own +expense," said Katavasov. + +"That's the right thing for him," said Levin. "Are volunteers +still going out then?" he added, glancing at Sergey Ivanovitch. + +Sergey Ivanovitch did not answer. He was carefully with a blunt +knife getting a live bee covered with sticky honey out of a cup +full of white honeycomb. + +"I should think so! You should have seen what was going on at the +station yesterday!" said Katavasov, biting with a juicy sound +into a cucumber. + +"Well, what is one to make of it? For mercy's sake, do explain +to me, Sergey Ivanovitch, where are all those volunteers going, +whom are they fighting with?" asked the old prince, unmistakably +taking up a conversation that had sprung up in Levin's absence. + +"With the Turks," Sergey Ivanovitch answered, smiling serenely, +as he extricated the bee, dark with honey and helplessly kicking, +and put it with the knife on a stout aspen leaf. + +"But who has declared war on the Turks?--Ivan Ivanovitch Ragozov +and Countess Lidia Ivanovna, assisted by Madame Stahl?" + +"No one has declared war, but people sympathize with their +neighbors' sufferings and are eager to help them," said Sergey +Ivanovitch. + +"But the prince is not speaking of help," said Levin, coming to +the assistance of his father-in-law, "but of war. The prince +says that private persons cannot take part in war without the +permission of the government." + +"Kostya, mind, that's a bee! Really, they'll sting us!" said +Dolly, waving away a wasp. + +"But that's not a bee, it's a wasp," said Levin. + +"Well now, well, what's your own theory?" Katavasov said to Levin +with a smile, distinctly challenging him to a discussion. "Why +have not private persons the right to do so?" + +"Oh, my theory's this: war is on one side such a beastly, cruel, +and awful thing, that no one man, not to speak of a Christian, +can individually take upon himself the responsibility of +beginning wars; that can only be done by a government, which is +called upon to do this, and is driven inevitably into war. On +the other hand, both political science and common sense teach us +that in matters of state, and especially in the matter of war, +private citizens must forego their personal individual will." + +Sergey Ivanovitch and Katavasov had their replies ready, and both +began speaking at the same time. + +"But the point is, my dear fellow, that there may be cases when +the government does not carry out the will of the citizens and +then the public asserts its will," said Katavasov. + +But evidently Sergey Ivanovitch did not approve of this answer. +His brows contracted at Katavasov's words and he said something +else. + +"You don't put the matter in its true light. There is no +question here of a declaration of war, but simply the expression +of a human Christian feeling. Our brothers, one with us in +religion and in race, are being massacred. Even supposing they +were not our brothers nor fellow-Christians, but simply +children, women, old people, feeling is aroused and Russians go +eagerly to help in stopping these atrocities. Fancy, if you were +going along the street and saw drunken men beating a woman or a +child--I imagine you would not stop to inquire whether war had +been declared on the men, but would throw yourself on them, and +protect the victim." + +"But I should not kill them," said Levin. + +"Yes, you would kill them." + +"I don't know. If I saw that, I might give way to my impulse of +the moment, but I can't say beforehand. And such a momentary +impulse there is not, and there cannot be, in the case of the +oppression of the Slavonic peoples." + +"Possibly for you there is not; but for others there is," said +Sergey Ivanovitch, frowning with displeasure. "There are +traditions still extant among the people of Slavs of the true +faith suffering under the yoke of the 'unclean sons of Hagar.' +The people have heard of the sufferings of their brethren and +have spoken." + +"Perhaps so," said Levin evasively; "but I don't see it. I'm one +of the people myself, and I don't feel it." + +"Here am I too," said the old prince. "I've been staying abroad +and reading the papers, and I must own, up to the time of the +Bulgarian atrocities, I couldn't make out why it was all the +Russians were all of a sudden so fond of their Slavonic brethren, +while I didn't feel the slightest affection for them. I was very +much upset, thought I was a monster, or that it was the influence +of Carlsbad on me. But since I have been here, my mind's been +set at rest. I see that there are people besides me who're only +interested in Russia, and not in their Slavonic brethren. Here's +Konstantin too." + +"Personal opinions mean nothing in such a case," said Sergey +Ivanovitch; "it's not a matter of personal opinions when all +Russia--the whole people--has expressed its will." + +"But excuse me, I don't see that. The people don't know anything +about it, if you come to that," said the old prince. + +"Oh, papa!...how can you say that? And last Sunday in church?" +said Dolly, listening to the conversation. "Please give me a +cloth," she said to the old man, who was looking at the children +with a smile. "Why, it's not possible that all..." + +"But what was it in church on Sunday? The priest had been told +to read that. He read it. They didn't understand a word of it. +Then they were told that there was to be a collection for a pious +object in church; well, they pulled out their halfpence and gave +them, but what for they couldn't say." + +"The people cannot help knowing; the sense of their own destinies +is always in the people, and at such moments as the present that +sense finds utterance," said Sergey Ivanovitch with conviction, +glancing at the old bee-keeper. + +The handsome old man, with black grizzled beard and thick silvery +hair, stood motionless, holding a cup of honey, looking down from +the height of his tall figure with friendly serenity at the +gentlefolk, obviously understanding nothing of their conversation +and not caring to understand it. + +"That's so, no doubt," he said, with a significant shake of his +head at Sergey Ivanovitch's words. + +"Here, then, ask him. He knows nothing about it and thinks +nothing," said Levin. "Have you heard about the war, Mihalitch?" +he said, turning to him. "What they read in the church? What do +you think about it? Ought we to fight for the Christians?" + +"What should we think? Alexander Nikolaevitch our Emperor has +thought for us; he thinks for us indeed in all things. It's +clearer for him to see. Shall I bring a bit more bread? Give +the little lad some more?" he said addressing Darya Alexandrovna +and pointing to Grisha, who had finished his crust. + +"I don't need to ask," said Sergey Ivanovitch, "we have seen and +are seeing hundreds and hundreds of people who give up everything +to serve a just cause, come from every part of Russia, and +directly and clearly express their thought and aim. They bring +their halfpence or go themselves and say directly what for. What +does it mean?" + +"It means, to my thinking," said Levin, who was beginning to get +warm, "that among eighty millions of people there can always be +found not hundreds, as now, but tens of thousands of people who +have lost caste, ne'er-do-wells, who are always ready to go +anywhere--to Pogatchev's bands, to Khiva, to Serbia..." + +"I tell you that it's not a case of hundreds or of +ne'er-do-wells, but the best representatives of the people!" said +Sergey Ivanovitch, with as much irritation as if he were +defending the last penny of his fortune. "And what of the +subscriptions? In this case it is a whole people directly +expressing their will." + +"That word 'people' is so vague," said Levin. "Parish clerks, +teachers, and one in a thousand of the peasants, maybe, know what +it's all about. The rest of the eighty millions, like Mihalitch, +far from expressing their will, haven't the faintest idea what +there is for them to express their will about. What right have +we to say that this is the people's will?" + + + +Chapter 16 + + +Sergey Ivanovitch, being practiced in argument, did not reply, +but at once turned the conversation to another aspect of the +subject. + +"Oh, if you want to learn the spirit of the people by +arithmetical computation, of course it's very difficult to arrive +at it. And voting has not been introduced among us and cannot be +introduced, for it does not express the will of the people; but +there are other ways of reaching that. It is felt in the air, it +is felt by the heart. I won't speak of those deep currents which +are astir in the still ocean of the people, and which are evident +to every unprejudiced man; let us look at society in the narrow +sense. All the most diverse sections of the educated public, +hostile before, are merged in one. Every division is at an end, +all the public organs say the same thing over and over again, all +feel the mighty torrent that has overtaken them and is carrying +them in one direction." + +"Yes, all the newspapers do say the same thing," said the prince. +"That's true. But so it is the same thing that all the frogs +croak before a storm. One can hear nothing for them." + +"Frogs or no frogs, I'm not the editor of a paper and I don't +want to defend them; but I am speaking of the unanimity in the +intellectual world," said Sergey Ivanovitch, addressing his +brother. Levin would have answered, but the old prince +interrupted him. + +"Well, about that unanimity, that's another thing, one may say," +said the prince. "There's my son-in-law, Stepan Arkadyevitch, +you know him. He's got a place now on the committee of a +commission and something or other, I don't remember. Only +there's nothing to do in it--why, Dolly, it's no secret!--and a +salary of eight thousand. You try asking him whether his post is +of use, he'll prove to you that it's most necessary. And he's a +truthful man too, but there's no refusing to believe in the +utility of eight thousand roubles." + +"Yes, he asked me to give a message to Darya Alexandrovna about +the post," said Sergey Ivanovitch reluctantly, feeling the +prince's remark to be ill-timed. + +"So it is with the unanimity of the press. That's been explained +to me: as soon as there's war their incomes are doubled. How can +they help believing in the destinies of the people and the +Slavonic races...and all that?" + +"I don't care for many of the papers, but that's unjust," said +Sergey Ivanovitch. + +"I would only make one condition," pursued the old prince. +"Alphonse Karr said a capital thing before the war with Prussia: +'You consider war to be inevitable? Very good. Let everyone who +advocates war be enrolled in a special regiment of +advance-guards, for the front of every storm, of every attack, to +lead them all!'" + +"A nice lot the editors would make!" said Katavasov, with a loud +roar, as he pictured the editors he knew in this picked legion. + +"But they'd run," said Dolly, "they'd only be in the way." + +"Oh, if they ran away, then we'd have grape-shot or Cossacks with +whips behind them," said the prince. + +"But that's a joke, and a poor one too, if you'll excuse my +saying so, prince," said Sergey Ivanovitch. + +"I don't see that it was a joke, that..." Levin was beginning, +but Sergey Ivanovitch interrupted him. + +"Every member of society is called upon to do his own special +work," said he. "And men of thought are doing their work when +they express public opinion. And the single-hearted and full +expression of public opinion is the service of the press and a +phenomenon to rejoice us at the same time. Twenty years ago we +should have been silent, but now we have heard the voice of the +Russian people, which is ready to rise as one man and ready to +sacrifice itself for its oppressed brethren; that is a great step +and a proof of strength." + +"But it's not only making a sacrifice, but killing Turks," said +Levin timidly. "The people make sacrifices and are ready to make +sacrifices for their soul, but not for murder," he added, +instinctively connecting the conversation with the ideas that had +been absorbing his mind. + +"For their soul? That's a most puzzling expression for a natural +science man, do you understand? What sort of thing is the soul?" +said Katavasov, smiling. + +"Oh, you know!" + +"No, by God, I haven't the faintest idea!" said Katavasov with a +loud roar of laughter. + +"'I bring not peace, but a sword,' says Christ," Sergey +Ivanovitch rejoined for his part, quoting as simply as though it +were the easiest thing to understand the very passage that had +always puzzled Levin most. + +"That's so, no doubt," the old man repeated again. He was +standing near them and responded to a chance glance turned in his +direction. + +"Ah, my dear fellow, you're defeated, utterly defeated!" cried +Katavasov good-humoredly. + +Levin reddened with vexation, not at being defeated, but at +having failed to control himself and being drawn into argument. + +"No, I can't argue with them," he thought; "they wear +impenetrable armor, while I'm naked." + +He saw that it was impossible to convince his brother and +Katavasov, and he saw even less possibility of himself agreeing +with them. What they advocated was the very pride of intellect +that had almost been his ruin. He could not admit that some +dozens of men, among them his brother, had the right, on the +ground of what they were told by some hundreds of glib volunteers +swarming to the capital, to say that they and the newspapers were +expressing the will and feeling of the people, and a feeling +which was expressed in vengeance and murder. He could not admit +this, because he neither saw the expression of such feelings in +the people among whom he was living, nor found them in himself +(and he could not but consider himself one of the persons making +up the Russian people), and most of all because he, like the +people, did not know and could not know what is for the general +good, though he knew beyond a doubt that this general good could +be attained only by the strict observance of that law of right +and wrong which has been revealed to every man, and therefore he +could not wish for war or advocate war for any general objects +whatever. He said as Mihalitch did and the people, who had +expressed their feeling in the traditional invitations of the +Varyagi: "Be princes and rule over us. Gladly we promise +complete submission. All the labor, all humiliations, all +sacrifices we take upon ourselves; but we will not judge and +decide." And now, according to Sergey Ivanovitch's account, the +people had foregone this privilege they had bought at such a +costly price. + +He wanted to say too that if public opinion were an infallible +guide, then why were not revolutions and the commune as lawful as +the movement in favor of the Slavonic peoples? But these were +merely thoughts that could settle nothing. One thing could be +seen beyond doubt--that was that at the actual moment the +discussion was irritating Sergey Ivanovitch, and so it was wrong +to continue it. And Levin ceased speaking and then called the +attention of his guests to the fact that the storm clouds were +gathering, and that they had better be going home before it +rained. + + + +Chapter 17 + + +The old prince and Sergey Ivanovitch got into the trap and drove +off; the rest of the party hastened homewards on foot. + +But the storm-clouds, turning white and then black, moved down so +quickly that they had to quicken their pace to get home before +the rain. The foremost clouds, lowering and black as soot-laden +smoke, rushed with extraordinary swiftness over the sky. They +were still two hundred paces from home and a gust of wind had +already blown up, and every second the downpour might be looked +for. + +The children ran ahead with frightened and gleeful shrieks. +Darya Alexandrovna, struggling painfully with her skirts that +clung round her legs, was not walking, but running, her eyes +fixed on the children. The men of the party, holding their hats +on, strode with long steps beside her. They were just at the +steps when a big drop fell splashing on the edge of the iron +guttering. The children and their elders after them ran into the +shelter of the house, talking merrily. + +"Katerina Alexandrovna?" Levin asked of Agafea Mihalovna, who met +them with kerchiefs and rugs in the hall. + +"We thought she was with you," she said. + +"And Mitya?" + +"In the copse, he must be, and the nurse with him." + +Levin snatched up the rugs and ran towards the copse. + +In that brief interval of time the storm clouds had moved on, +covering the sun so completely that it was dark as an eclipse. +Stubbornly, as though insisting on its rights, the wind stopped +Levin, and tearing the leaves and flowers off the lime trees and +stripping the white birch branches into strange unseemly +nakedness, it twisted everything on one side--acacias, flowers, +burdocks, long grass, and tall tree-tops. The peasant girls +working in the garden ran shrieking into shelter in the servants' +quarters. The streaming rain had already flung its white veil +over all the distant forest and half the fields close by, and was +rapidly swooping down upon the copse. The wet of the rain +spurting up in tiny drops could be smelt in the air. + +Holding his head bent down before him, and struggling with the +wind that strove to tear the wraps away from him, Levin was +moving up to the copse and had just caught sight of something +white behind the oak tree, when there was a sudden flash, the +whole earth seemed on fire, and the vault of heaven seemed +crashing overhead. Opening his blinded eyes, Levin gazed through +the thick veil of rain that separated him now from the copse, and +to his horror the first thing he saw was the green crest of the +familiar oak-tree in the middle of the copse uncannily changing +its position. "Can it have been struck?" Levin hardly had time +to think when, moving more and more rapidly, the oak tree +vanished behind the other trees, and he heard the crash of the +great tree falling upon the others. + +The flash of lightning, the crash of thunder, and the +instantaneous chill that ran through him were all merged for +Levin in one sense of terror. + +"My God! my God! not on them!" he said. + +And though he thought at once how senseless was his prayer that +they should not have been killed by the oak which had fallen now, +he repeated it, knowing that he could do nothing better than +utter this senseless prayer. + +Running up to the place where they usually went, he did not find +them there. + +They were at the other end of the copse under an old lime-tree; +they were calling him. Two figures in dark dresses (they had +been light summer dresses when they started out) were standing +bending over something. It was Kitty with the nurse. The rain +was already ceasing, and it was beginning to get light when Levin +reached them. The nurse was not wet on the lower part of her +dress, but Kitty was drenched through, and her soaked clothes +clung to her. Though the rain was over, they still stood in the +same position in which they had been standing when the storm +broke. Both stood bending over a perambulator with a green +umbrella. + +"Alive? Unhurt? Thank God!" he said, splashing with his soaked +boots through the standing water and running up to them. + +Kitty's rosy wet face was turned towards him, and she smiled +timidly under her shapeless sopped hat. + +"Aren't you ashamed of yourself? I can't think how you can be so +reckless!" he said angrily to his wife. + +"It wasn't my fault, really. We were just meaning to go, when he +made such a to-do that we had to change him. We were just..." +Kitty began defending herself. + +Mitya was unharmed, dry, and still fast asleep. + +"Well, thank God! I don't know what I'm saying!" + +They gathered up the baby's wet belongings; the nurse picked up +the baby and carried it. Levin walked beside his wife, and, +penitent for having been angry, he squeezed her hand when the +nurse was not looking. + + + +Chapter 18 + + +During the whole of that day, in the extremely different +conversations in which he took part, only as it were with the top +layer of his mind, in spite of the disappointment of not finding +the change he expected in himself, Levin had been all the while +joyfully conscious of the fulness of his heart. + +After the rain it was too wet to go for a walk; besides, the +storm clouds still hung about the horizon, and gathered here and +there, black and thundery, on the rim of the sky. The whole +party spent the rest of the day in the house. + +No more discussions sprang up; on the contrary, after dinner +every one was in the most amiable frame of mind. + +At first Katavasov amused the ladies by his original jokes, which +always pleased people on their first acquaintance with him. Then +Sergey Ivanovitch induced him to tell them about the very +interesting observations he had made on the habits and +characteristics of common houseflies, and their life. Sergey +Ivanovitch, too, was in good spirits, and at tea his brother drew +him on to explain his views of the future of the Eastern +question, and he spoke so simply and so well, that everyone +listened eagerly. + +Kitty was the only one who did not hear it all--she was summoned +to give Mitya his bath. + +A few minutes after Kitty had left the room she sent for Levin to +come to the nursery. + +Leaving his tea, and regretfully interrupting the interesting +conversation, and at the same time uneasily wondering why he had +been sent for, as this only happened on important occasions, +Levin went to the nursery. + +Although he had been much interested by Sergey Ivanovitch's views +of the new epoch in history that would be created by the +emancipation of forty millions of men of Slavonic race acting +with Russia, a conception quite new to him, and although he was +disturbed by uneasy wonder at being sent for by Kitty, as soon as +he came out of the drawing room and was alone, his mind reverted +at once to the thoughts of the morning. And all the theories of +the significance of the Slav element in the history of the world +seemed to him so trivial compared with what was passing in his +own soul, that he instantly forgot it all and dropped back into +the same frame of mind that he had been in that morning. + +He did not, as he had done at other times, recall the whole train +of thought--that he did not need. He fell back at once into the +feeling which had guided him, which was connected with those +thoughts, and he found that feeling in his soul even stronger and +more definite than before. He did not, as he had had to do with +previous attempts to find comforting arguments, need to revive a +whole chain of thought to find the feeling. Now, on the +contrary, the feeling of joy and peace was keener than ever, and +thought could not keep pace with feeling. + +He walked across the terrace and looked at two stars that had +come out in the darkening sky, and suddenly he remembered. "Yes, +looking at the sky, I thought that the dome that I see is not a +deception, and then I thought something, I shirked facing +something," he mused. "But whatever it was, there can be no +disproving it! I have but to think, and all will come clear!" + +Just as he was going into the nursery he remembered what it was +he had shirked facing. It was that if the chief proof of the +Divinity was His revelation of what is right, how is it this +revelation is confined to the Christian church alone? What +relation to this revelation have the beliefs of the Buddhists, +Mohammedans, who preached and did good too? + +It seemed to him that he had an answer to this question; but he +had not time to formulate it to himself before he went into the +nursery. + +Kitty was standing with her sleeves tucked up over the baby in +the bath. Hearing her husband's footstep, she turned towards +him, summoning him to her with her smile. With one hand she was +supporting the fat baby that lay floating and sprawling on its +back, while with the other she squeezed the sponge over him. + +"Come, look, look!" she said, when her husband came up to her. +"Agafea Mihalovna's right. He knows us!" + +Mitya had on that day given unmistakable, incontestable signs of +recognizing all his friends. + +As soon as Levin approached the bath, the experiment was tried, +and it was completely successful. The cook, sent for with this +object, bent over the baby. He frowned and shook his head +disapprovingly. Kitty bent down to him, he gave her a beaming +smile, propped his little hands on the sponge and chirruped, +making such a queer little contented sound with his lips, that +Kitty and the nurse were not alone in their admiration. Levin, +too, was surprised and delighted. + +The baby was taken out of the bath, drenched with water, wrapped +in towels, dried, and after a piercing scream, handed to his +mother. + +"Well, I am glad you are beginning to love him," said Kitty to +her husband, when she had settled herself comfortably in her +usual place, with the baby at her breast. "I am so glad! It had +begun to distress me. You said you had no feeling for him." + +"No; did I say that? I only said I was disappointed." + +"What! disappointed in him?" + +"Not disappointed in him, but in my own feeling; I had expected +more. I had expected a rush of new delightful emotion to come +as a surprise. And then instead of that--disgust, pity..." + +She listened attentively, looking at him over the baby, while she +put back on her slender fingers the rings she had taken off while +giving Mitya his bath. + +"And most of all, at there being far more apprehension and pity +than pleasure. Today, after that fright during the storm, I +understand how I love him." + +Kitty's smile was radiant. + +"Were you very much frightened?" she said. "So was I too, but I +feel it more now that it's over. I'm going to look at the oak. +How nice Katavasov is! And what a happy day we've had +altogether. And you're so nice with Sergey Ivanovitch, when you +care to be.... Well, go back to them. It's always so hot and +steamy here after the bath." + + + +Chapter 19 + + +Going out of the nursery and being again alone, Levin went back +at once to the thought, in which there was something not clear. + +Instead of going into the drawing room, where he heard voices, he +stopped on the terrace, and leaning his elbows on the parapet, he +gazed up at the sky. + +It was quite dark now, and in the south, where he was looking, +there were no clouds. The storm had drifted on to the opposite +side of the sky, and there were flashes of lightning and distant +thunder from that quarter. Levin listened to the monotonous drip +from the lime trees in the garden, and looked at the triangle of +stars he knew so well, and the Milky Way with its branches that +ran through its midst. At each flash of lightning the Milky Way, +and even the bright stars, vanished, but as soon as the lightning +died away, they reappeared in their places as though some hand +had flung them back with careful aim. + +"Well, what is it perplexes me?" Levin said to himself, feeling +beforehand that the solution of his difficulties was ready in his +soul, though he did not know it yet. "Yes, the one unmistakable, +incontestable manifestation of the Divinity is the law of right +and wrong, which has come into the world by revelation, and which +I feel in myself, and in the recognition of which--I don't make +myself, but whether I will or not--I am made one with other men +in one body of believers, which is called the church. Well, but +the Jews, the Mohammedans, the Confucians, the Buddhists--what of +them?" he put to himself the question he had feared to face. +"Can these hundreds of millions of men be deprived of that +highest blessing without which life has no meaning?" He pondered +a moment, but immediately corrected himself. "But what am I +questioning?" he said to himself. "I am questioning the relation +to Divinity of all the different religions of all mankind. I am +questioning the universal manifestation of God to all the world +with all those misty blurs. What am I about? To me +individually, to my heart has been revealed a knowledge beyond +all doubt, and unattainable by reason, and here I am obstinately +trying to express that knowledge in reason and words. + +"Don't I know that the stars don't move?" he asked himself, +gazing at the bright planet which had shifted its position up to +the topmost twig of the birch-tree. "But looking at the +movements of the stars, I can't picture to myself the rotation of +the earth, and I'm right in saying that the stars move. + +"And could the astronomers have understood and calculated +anything, if they had taken into account all the complicated and +varied motions of the earth? All the marvelous conclusions they +have reached about the distances, weights, movements, and +deflections of the heavenly bodies are only founded on the +apparent motions of the heavenly bodies about a stationary earth, +on that very motion I see before me now, which has been so for +millions of men during long ages, and was and will be always +alike, and can always be trusted. And just as the conclusions of +the astronomers would have been vain and uncertain if not founded +on observations of the seen heavens, in relation to a single +meridian and a single horizon, so would my conclusions be vain +and uncertain if not founded on that conception of right, which +has been and will be always alike for all men, which has been +revealed to me as a Christian, and which can always be trusted in +my soul. The question of other religions and their relations to +Divinity I have no right to decide, and no possibility of +deciding." + +"Oh, you haven't gone in then?" he heard Kitty's voice all at +once, as she came by the same way to the drawing-room. + +"What is it? you're not worried about anything?" she said, +looking intently at his face in the starlight. + +But she could not have seen his face if a flash of lightning had +not hidden the stars and revealed it. In that flash she saw his +face distinctly, and seeing him calm and happy, she smiled at +him. + +"She understands," he thought; "she knows what I'm thinking +about. Shall I tell her or not? Yes, I'll tell her." But at the +moment he was about to speak, she began speaking. + +"Kostya! do something for me," she said; "go into the corner room +and see if they've made it all right for Sergey Ivanovitch. I +can't very well. See if they've put the new wash stand in it." + +"Very well, I'll go directly," said Levin, standing up and +kissing her. + +"No, I'd better not speak of it," he thought, when she had gone +in before him. "It is a secret for me alone, of vital importance +for me, and not to be put into words. + +"This new feeling has not changed me, has not made me happy and +enlightened all of a sudden, as I had dreamed, just like the +feeling for my child. There was no surprise in this either. +Faith--or not faith--I don't know what it is--but this feeling +has come just as imperceptibly through suffering, and has taken +firm root in my soul. + +"I shall go on in the same way, losing my temper with Ivan the +coachman, falling into angry discussions, expressing my opinions +tactlessly; there will be still the same wall between the holy of +holies of my soul and other people, even my wife; I shall still +go on scolding her for my own terror, and being remorseful for +it; I shall still be as unable to understand with my reason why +I pray, and I shall still go on praying; but my life now, my +whole life apart from anything that can happen to me, every +minute of it is no more meaningless, as it was before, but it has +the positive meaning of goodness, which I have the power to put +into it." + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Anna Karenina, by Leo Tolstoy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANNA KARENINA *** + +***** This file should be named 1399.txt or 1399.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/9/1399/ + +Etext prepared by David Brannan + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + + + + +Title: The Awakening + The Resurrection + + +Author: Leo Nikoleyevich Tolstoy + + + +Release Date: December 19, 2005 [eBook #17352] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AWAKENING*** + + +E-text prepared by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Diane Monico, and the +Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net/ + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 17352-h.htm or 17352-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/7/3/5/17352/17352-h/17352-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/7/3/5/17352/17352-h.zip) + + + + + +THE AWAKENING + +(The Resurrection) + +by + +COUNT LEO TOLSTOI + +Author of + +"War and Peace," "The Kreutzer Sonata," +"Anna Karenina," Etc. + +Translated by William E. Smith + + + + + + + +[Illustration: COUNT LEO TOLSTOI.] + + + + +New York +Street & Smith, Publishers +238 William Street +Entered according to act of Congress in the year 1900 +By Street & Smith +In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D.C. + + + + + + "Then came Peter to Him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my + brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven + times?"--_Matthew, c. xviii.; v. 21._ + + "Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven + times: but until seventy times seven."--_Idem, v. 22._ + + "And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's + eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own + eye!"--_Idem, c. vii.; v. 3._ + + "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a + stone at her."--_John, c. viii.; v. 7._ + + "The disciple is not above his master: but every one that is + perfect shall be as his master."--_Luke, c. vi.; v. 40._ + + + + +THE AWAKENING. + + +PART FIRST. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +All the efforts of several hundred thousand people, crowded in a small +space, to disfigure the land on which they lived; all the stone they +covered it with to keep it barren; how so diligently every sprouting +blade of grass was removed; all the smoke of coal and naphtha; all the +cutting down of trees and driving off of cattle could not shut out the +spring, even from the city. The sun was shedding its light; the grass, +revivified, was blooming forth, where it was left uncut, not only on +the greenswards of the boulevard, but between the flag-stones, and the +birches, poplars and wild-berry trees were unfolding their viscous +leaves; the limes were unfolding their buds; the daws, sparrows and +pigeons were joyfully making their customary nests, and the flies were +buzzing on the sun-warmed walls. Plants, birds, insects and children +were equally joyful. Only men--grown-up men--continued cheating and +tormenting themselves and each other. People saw nothing holy in this +spring morning, in this beauty of God's world--a gift to all living +creatures--inclining to peace, good-will and love, but worshiped their +own inventions for imposing their will on each other. + +The joy of spring felt by animals and men did not penetrate the office +of the county jail, but the one thing of supreme importance there was +a document received the previous evening, with title, number and seal, +which ordered the bringing into court for trial, this 28th day of +April, at nine o'clock in the morning, three prisoners--two women and +one man. One of the women, as the more dangerous criminal, was to be +brought separately. So, in pursuance of that order, on the 28th day of +April, at eight o'clock in the morning, the jail warden entered the +dingy corridor of the woman's ward. Immediately behind him came a +woman with weary countenance and disheveled gray hair, wearing a +crown-laced jacket, and girdled with a blue-edged sash. She was the +matron. + +"You want Maslova?" she asked the warden, as they neared one of the +cells opening into the corridor. + +The warden, with a loud clanking of iron, unlocked and opened the door +of the cell, releasing an even fouler odor than permeated the +corridor, and shouted: + +"Maslova to the court!" and again closing the door he waited for her +appearance. + +The fresh, vivifying air of the fields, carried to the city by the +wind, filled even the court-yard of the jail. But in the corridor the +oppressive air, laden with the smell of tar and putrescence, saddened +and dejected the spirit of every new-comer. The same feeling was +experienced by the jail matron, notwithstanding she was accustomed to +bad air. On entering the corridor she suddenly felt a weariness coming +over her that inclined her to slumber. + +There was a bustling in the cell; women's voices and steps of bare +feet were heard. + +"Hurry up, Maslova! Come on, I say!" shouted the warden into the +cell-door. + +Presently at the cell-door appeared a middle-sized, full-breasted +young woman, dressed in a long, gray coat over a white waist and +skirt. She approached with firm step, and, facing about, stood before +the warden. Over her linen stockings she wore jail shoes; her head was +covered with a white 'kerchief, from under which black curls were +evidently purposely brushed over the forehead. The face of the woman +was of that whiteness peculiar to people who have been a long time in +confinement, and which reminds one of potato-sprouts in a cellar. Her +small, wide hands, her white, full neck, showing from under the large +collar of the coat, were of a similar hue. On the dull pallor of that +face the most striking feature was the black, sparkling eyes, somewhat +swollen, but very bright eyes, one of which slightly squinted. She +held herself erect, putting forth her full chest. Emerging into the +corridor, throwing her head back a little, she looked into the eyes of +the warden and stood ready to do his bidding. The warden was about to +shut the door, when a pale, severe, wrinkled face of an old woman with +disheveled hair was thrust out. The old woman began to say something +to Maslova. But the warden pressed the door against the head of the +woman, and she disappeared. In the cell a woman's voice burst into +laughter. Maslova also smiled, and turned to the grated little opening +in the door. The old woman pressed her forehead to the grating, and +said in a hoarse voice: + +"Above all, don't speak too much; stick to one thing, and that is +all." + +"Of course. It cannot be any worse," said Maslova. + +"You certainly cannot stick to two things," said the chief warden, +with official assurance of his own wit. "Follow me, now! Forward! +March!" + +The eye looking from behind the grating disappeared, and Maslova took +to the middle of the corridor, and with short, but rapid strides, +followed the warden. They descended the stone stairway, and as they +passed the men's ward, noisy and more noisome even than the woman's +ward, scores of eyes followed them from behind the gratings. They +entered the office, where an armed escort of two soldiers stood. The +clerk handed one of the soldiers a document, reeking of tobacco smoke, +and, pointing to the prisoner, said: + +"Take her." + +The soldier, a Nijhni peasant with a red and pock-marked face, placed +the paper into the cuff of his coat sleeve, and, smiling, winked to +his muscular comrade. The soldiers and prisoner descended the stairs +and went in the direction of the main entrance. + +A small door in the gate opened, and, crossing the threshold, they +passed through the inclosure and took the middle of the paved street. + +Drivers, shop-keepers, kitchen maids, laborers and officials halted +and gazed with curiosity at the prisoner. Some shook their heads and +thought: "There is the result of evil conduct--how unlike ours!" +Children looked with horror at the cut-throat, but the presence of the +soldiers reassured them, for she was now powerless to do harm. A +villager, returning from the mart, where he had disposed of his +charcoal and visited an inn, offered her a kopeck. The prisoner +blushed, drooped her head and murmured something. + +Conscious of the attention that was shown her, without turning her +head she looked askance at the onlookers and rather enjoyed it. She +also enjoyed the comparatively pure spring air, but the walking on the +cobblestones was painful to her feet, unused as they were to walking, +and shod in clumsy prison shoes. She looked at her feet and endeavored +to step as lightly as possible. Passing by a food store, in front of +which some pigeons were picking grain, she came near striking with her +foot a dove-colored bird. It rose with a flutter of its wings, and +flew past the very ear of the prisoner, fanning her face with its +wings. She smiled, then sighed deeply, remembering her own condition. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +The history of the prisoner Maslova was a very common one. Maslova was +the daughter of an unmarried menial who lived with her mother, a +cowherd, on the estate of two spinsters. This unmarried woman gave +birth to a child every year, and, as is the custom in the villages, +baptized them; then neglected the troublesome newcomers, and they +finally starved to death. + +Thus five children died. Every one of these was baptized, then it +starved and finally died. The sixth child, begotten of a passing +gypsy, was a girl, who would have shared the same fate, but it +happened that one of the two old maidens entered the cow-shed to +reprimand the milkmaids for carelessness in skimming the cream, and +there saw the mother with the healthy and beautiful child. The old +maiden chided them for the cream and for permitting the woman to lie +in the cow-shed, and was on the point of departing, but noticing the +child, was moved to pity, and afterward consented to stand godmother +to the child. She baptized the child, and in pity for her +god-daughter, furnished her with milk, gave the mother some money, +and the babe thrived. Wherefore the old maidens called it "the saved +one." + +The child was three years old when the mother fell ill and died. She +was a great burden to her grandmother, so the old maidens adopted her. +The dark-eyed girl became unusually lively and pretty, and her +presence cheered them. + +Of the two old maidens, the younger one--Sophia Ivanovna--was the +kindlier, while the older one--Maria Ivanovna--was of austere +disposition. Sophia Ivanovna kept the girl in decent clothes, taught +her to read and intended to give her an education. Maria Ivanovna said +that the girl ought to be taught to work that she might become a +useful servant, was exacting, punished, and even beat her when in bad +humor. Under such conditions the girl grew up half servant, half lady. +Her position was reflected even in her name, for she was not called by +the gentle Katinka, nor yet by the disdainful Katka, but Katiousha, +which stands sentimentally between the two. She sewed, cleaned the +rooms, cleaned the ikons with chalk, ground, cooked and served coffee, +washed, and sometimes she read for the ladies. + +She was wooed, but would marry no one, feeling that life with any one +of her wooers would be hard, spoiled, as she was, more or less, by the +comparative ease she enjoyed in the manor. + +She had just passed her sixteenth year when the ladies were visited by +their nephew, a rich student, and Katiousha, without daring to confess +it to him, or even to herself, fell in love with him. Two years +afterward, while on his way to the war, he again visited his aunts, +and during his four days' stay, consummated her ruin. Before his +departure he thrust a hundred ruble bill into her hand. + +Thenceforward life ceased to have any charms for her, and her only +thought was to escape the shame which awaited her, and not only did +she become lax in her duties, but--and she did not know herself how it +happened--all of a sudden she gave vent to her ill temper. She said +some rude things to the ladies, of which she afterward repented, and +left them. + +Dissatisfied with her behavior, they did not detain her. She then +obtained employment as servant in the house of the commissary of rural +police, but was obliged to give up the position at the end of the +third month, for the commissary, a fifty-year old man, pursued her +with his attentions, and when, on one occasion, he became too +persistent, she flared up, called him an old fool, and threw him to +the ground. Then she was driven from the house. She was now so far +advanced on the road to maternity that to look for a position was out +of the question. Hence she took lodgings with an old midwife, who was +also a wine dealer. The confinement came off painlessly. But the +midwife was attending a sick woman in the village, infected Katiousha +with puerperal fever, and the child, a boy, was taken to a foundling +asylum where, she was told, he died immediately after his arrival +there. + +When Katiousha took lodgings with the midwife she had 127 rubles; 27 +rubles of which she had earned, and 100 rubles which had been given +her by her seducer. When she left her she had but six rubles left. She +was not economical, and spent on herself as well as others. She paid +40 rubles to the midwife for two months' board; 25 rubles it cost her +to have the child taken away; 40 rubles the midwife borrowed of her to +buy a cow with; the balance was spent on dresses, presents, etc., so +that after the confinement she was practically penniless, and was +compelled to look for a position. She was soon installed in the house +of a forester who was married, and who, like the commissary, began to +pay court to her. His wife became aware of it, and when, on one +occasion, she found them both in the room, she fell on Katiousha and +began to beat her. The latter resented it, and the result was a +scrimmage, after which she was driven out of the house, without being +paid the wages due her. Katiousha went to the city, where she stopped +with her aunt. Her aunt's husband was a bookbinder. Formerly he used +to earn a competence, but had lost his customers, and was now given to +drink, spending everything that came into his hands. + +With the aid of a small laundry she was keeping, her aunt supported +her children as well as her husband. She offered Maslova work as a +washerwoman, but seeing what a hard life the washerwomen at her +aunt's establishment were leading, she searched through the +intelligence offices for a position as servant. She found such a place +with a lady who was living with her two student boys. A week after she +had entered upon her duties, the oldest son neglected his studies and +made life miserable for Maslova. The mother threw all blame upon +Maslova and discharged her. She was some time without any occupation. +In one of these intelligence offices she once met a lady richly +dressed and adorned with diamonds. This lady, learning of the +condition of Maslova, who was looking for a position, gave her her +card and invited her to call. The lady received Maslova +affectionately, treated her to choice cakes and sweet wine, while she +dispatched her servant somewhere with a note. In the evening a tall +man with long hair just turning gray, and gray beard, came into the +room. The old man immediately seated himself beside Maslova and began +to jest. The hostess called him into an adjoining room, and Maslova +overheard her say: "As fresh as a rose; just from the country." Then +the hostess called in Maslova and told her that the man was an author, +very rich, _and will be very generous if he takes a liking to her_. He +did take a liking to her, gave her twenty-five rubles, and promised to +call on her often. The money was soon spent in settling for her board +at her aunt's, for a new dress, hat and ribbons. A few days afterward +the author sent for her a second time. She called. He gave her another +twenty-five ruble bill and offered to rent apartments for her where +she could reside separately. + +While living in the apartments rented by the author, Maslova became +infatuated with a jolly clerk living in the same house. She herself +told the author of her infatuation, and moved into a smaller +apartment. The clerk, who had promised to marry her, without saying +anything, left for Nijhni, evidently casting her off, and Maslova +remained alone. She wished to remain in the apartment, but the +landlord would not permit a single woman to occupy it, and she +returned to her aunt. Her fashionable dress, cape and hat won her the +respect of her aunt, who no longer dared to offer her work as a +washerwoman, considering her present position far above it. The +question of working in the laundry did not even occur to Maslova now. +She looked with compassion on the life of drudgery led by these pale, +emaciated washerwomen, some of whom showed symptoms of consumption, +washing and ironing in a stifling, steam-laden atmosphere with the +windows open summer and winter, and she was horrified at the thought +that she, too, might be driven to such drudgery. + +Maslova had for a long time been addicted to cigarette smoking, but of +late she had been getting more and more accustomed to drink. The wine +attracted her, not because of its taste, but because it enabled her to +forget her past life, to comfort herself with ease, and the confidence +of her own worth that it gave her. Without wine she was despondent and +abashed. There was the choice of two things before her; either the +humiliating occupation of a servant, with the certain unwelcome +attentions of the men, or a secure, quiet and legitimatized position +of everybody's mistress. She wished to revenge herself on her seducer, +as well as the clerk, and all those that brought misfortune upon her. +Besides, she could not withstand the temptation of having all the +dresses her heart desired--dresses made of velvet, gauze and +silk--ball dresses, with open neck and short sleeves. And when Maslova +imagined herself in a bright yellow silk dress, with velvet trimmings, +decolette, she made her choice. + +From this day on Maslova began to lead a life to which hundreds of +thousands of women are driven, and which, in nine cases out of ten, +ends in painful disease, premature decrepitude and death. + +After a night's orgies there would come a deep slumber till three or +four o'clock in the afternoon; then the weary rising from a dirty +couch; seltzer-water to remove the effect of excessive drinking, +coffee. Then came the sauntering through the rooms in dressing-gown, +looking through the windows; the languid quarrels; then the perfuming +of her body and hair, the trying on of dresses, and the quarrels with +the mistress which they occasioned; contemplating herself in the +mirror, rouging her face, darkening her eyebrows. Then came the sweet, +rich food, the bright silk dress, the entry into the brightly lighted +parlor, the arrival of the guests, music, dancing, confectionery, wine +and cigarettes. + +Thus Maslova lived for seven years. On the eighth, when she had +reached her twenty-sixth year, there happened that for which she had +been jailed, and for which she was now led to the court, after six +months of confinement among thieves and murderers. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +At the time when Maslova, exhausted by the long walk, was approaching +with the armed convoy the building in which court was held, the same +nephew of the ladies that brought her up, Prince Dmitri Ivanovitch +Nekhludoff, who deceived her, lay on his high, soft, spring +feather-bed, in spotless Holland linen, smoking a cigarette. He was +gazing before him, contemplating the events of the previous day and +considering what he had before him for that day. As he thought of the +previous evening, spent at the Korchagins, a wealthy and influential +family, whose daughter, rumor had it, he was to marry, he sighed, and +throwing away the butt of his cigarette, he was on the point of taking +another from the silver cigarette holder, but changed his mind. Half +rising, he slipped his smooth, white feet into the slippers, threw a +silk morning gown over his broad shoulders, and with quick and heavy +stride, walked into the adjoining dressing-room, which was permeated +with the artificial odors of elixirs, perfumes, cosmetics. There he +washed his partly gold-filled teeth with a tooth-powder, rinsed them +with a perfumed mouth-wash, then began to sponge himself and dry his +body with Turkish towels. After washing his hands with perfumed soap, +carefully brushing his trimmed nails and washing his face and stout +neck in a marble basin, he walked into a third room, where a +shower-bath was ready. Here he received a cold-water douche, and after +rubbing his white and muscular body with coarse towels and donning his +white linen, he seated himself before the mirror and began to brush +his short, curly beard and the thinning curls of his forehead. + +Everything used by him--the linen, clothing, shoes, scarfs, +scarf-pins, cuff-buttons, were of the very best quality, simple, +tasteful and expensive. + +He then picked out the first of a dozen scarfs and pins that came into +his hand--it was no more novel and amusing, as it used to be--and he +was quite indifferent as to which he put on. He dressed himself in his +brushed clothes which lay on the chair and went out, though not quite +refreshed, yet clean and fragrant. In the oblong dining-room, the +inlaid floor of which had been polished by three of his men the day +before, and containing a massive oaken sideboard and a similar +extension table, the legs of which were carved in the shape of lion's +paws, giving it a pompous appearance, breakfast stood ready for him. A +fine, starched cloth with large monograms was spread on the table, on +which stood a silver coffee-pot, containing fragrant, steaming coffee, +a sugar bowl and cream pitcher to match, fresh rolls and various kinds +of biscuits. Beside them lay the last number of the "Revue des deux +Mondes," newspapers and his mail. Nekhludoff was about to open the +letters, when a middle-aged woman, with a lace head-gear over her +unevenly parted hair, glided into the room. This was Agrippina +Petrovna, servant of his mother, who died in this very house. She was +now stewardess to the son. + +Agrippina Petrovna had traveled many years abroad with Nekhludoff's +mother, and had acquired the manners of a lady. She had lived in the +house of the Nekhludoffs since childhood, and knew Dmitri Ivanovitch +when he was called by the diminutive Mitenka. + +"Good-morning, Dmitri Ivanovitch." + +"How do you do, Agrippina Petrovna? What's the news?" asked +Nekhludoff, jesting. + +"A letter from the old Princess, or the young one, perhaps. The maid +brought it long ago, and is now waiting in my room," said Agrippina +Petrovna, handing him the letter with a significant smile. + +"Very well; I will attend to it immediately," said Nekhludoff, taking +the letter and then, noticing the smile on Agrippina's face, he +frowned. + +The smile on Agrippina's face signified that the letter came from +Princess Korchagin, whom, according to Agrippina Petrovna, he was to +marry. And this supposition, expressed by her smile, displeased +Nekhludoff. + +"Then I will bid her wait," and Agrippina Petrovna glided out of the +dining-room, first replacing the crumb-brush, which lay on the table, +in its holder. + +Nekhludoff opened the perfumed letter and began to read: + + "In fulfillment of the duty I assumed of being your memory," + the letter ran, "I call to your mind that you have been + summoned to serve as juror to-day, the 28th of April, and + that, therefore, you cannot accompany us and Kolosoff to the + art exhibition, as you promised yesterday in your customary + forgetfulness; a moins que vous ne soyez dispose a payer a + la cour d'assises les 300 rubles d'amende que vous vous + refusez pour votre cheval, for your failure to appear in + time. I remembered it yesterday, when you had left. So keep + it in mind. + + "PRINCESS M. KORCHAGIN." + +On the other side was a postscript: + + "Maman vous fait dire que votre couvert vous attendra jusqu' + a la nuit. Venez absolument a quelle heure que cela soit. M. K." + +Nekhludoff knit his brows. The note was the continuation of a skillful +strategem whereby the Princess sought, for the last two months, to +fasten him with invisible bonds. But Nekhludoff, besides the usual +irresoluteness before marriage of people of his age, and who are not +passionately in love, had an important reason for withholding his +offer of marriage for the time being. The reason was not that ten +years before he had ruined and abandoned Katiousha, which incident he +had entirely forgotten, but that at this very time he was sustaining +relations with a married woman, and though he now considered them at +an end, they were not so considered by her. + +In the presence of women, Nekhludoff was very shy, but it was this +very shyness that determined the married woman to conquer him. This +woman was the wife of the commander of the district in which +Nekhludoff was one of the electors. She led him into relations with +her which held him fast, and at the same time grew more and more +repulsive to him. At first Nekhludoff could not resist her wiles, +then, feeling himself at fault, he could not break off the relations +against her will. This was the reason why Nekhludoff considered that +he had no right, even if he desired, to ask for the hand of Korchagin. +A letter from the husband of that woman happened to lay on the table. +Recognizing the handwriting and the stamp, Nekhludoff flushed and +immediately felt an influx of that energy which he always experienced +in the face of danger. But there was no cause for his agitation; the +husband, as commander of the district where Nekhludoff's estates were +situated, informed the latter of a special meeting of the local +governing body, and asked him to be present without fail, and donner +un coup d'epaule in the important measures to be submitted concerning +the schools and roads, and that the reactionary party was expected to +offer strong opposition. + +The commander was a liberal-minded man, entirely absorbed with the +struggles, and knew nothing about his wretched family life. + +Nekhludoff recalled all the tortures this man had occasioned him; how +on one occasion he thought that the husband had discovered all, and he +was preparing to fight a duel with him, intending to use a blank +cartridge, and the ensuing scene where she, in despair, ran to the +pond, intending to drown herself, while he ran to search for her. "I +cannot go now, and can undertake nothing until I have heard from her," +thought Nekhludoff. The preceding week he had written to her a +decisive letter, acknowledging his guilt, and expressing his readiness +to redeem it in any manner she should suggest, but for her own good, +considered their relations ended. It is to this letter that he +expected a reply. He considered it a favorable sign that no reply +came. If she had not consented to a separation, she would have +answered long ago, or would have come personally, as she often did +before. Nekhludoff had heard that an army officer was courting her, +and while he was tormented by jealousy, he was at the same time +gladdened by the hope of release from the oppressive lie. + +The other letter was from the steward in charge of his estates. +Nekhludoff was requested to return and establish his right to the +inheritance and also to decide on the future management of the +estates; whether the same system of letting out to the peasants, which +prevailed during the lifetime of his mother, was to be continued, or, +as the steward had strongly advised the deceased Princess, and now +advised the young Prince, to augment the stock and work all the land +himself. The steward wrote that the land could thus best be exploited. +He also apologized for his failure to send the three thousand rubles +due on the first of the month, which he would send by the next mail, +explaining it by the difficulty of collecting the rents from the +peasants whose bad faith had reached a point where it became necessary +to resort to the courts to collect them. This letter was partly +agreeable and partly disagreeable to Nekhludoff. It was agreeable to +feel the power of authority over so vast an estate, and it was +disagreeable, because in his youth he was an enthusiastic adherent of +Herbert Spencer, and being himself a large land owner, was struck by +the proposition in _Social Statics_ that private ownership of land is +contrary to the dictates of justice. With the frankness and boldness +of youth, he not only _then_ spoke of the injustice of private +ownership of land; not only did he compose theses in the university on +the subject, but he actually distributed among the peasants the few +hundred acres of land left him by his father, not desiring to own land +contrary to his convictions. Now that he found himself the owner of +vast estates, he was confronted by two alternatives: either to waive +his ownership in favor of the peasants, as he did ten years ago with +the two hundred acres, or, by tacit acquiescence, confess that all his +former ideas were erroneous and false. + +He could not carry out the first, because he possessed no resources +outside of the land. He did not wish to go into service, and yet he +had luxurious habits of life which he thought he could not abandon. +Indeed, there was no necessity of abandoning these habits, since he +had lost the strength of conviction as well as the resolution, the +vanity and the desire to astonish people that he had possessed in his +youth. The other alternative--to reject all the arguments against +private ownership of land which he gathered from Spencer's _Social +Statics_, and of which he found confirmation in the works of Henry +George--he could follow even less. + +For this reason the steward's letter was disagreeable to him. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Having breakfasted, Nekhludoff went to the cabinet to see for what +hour he was summoned to appear at court, and to answer the Princess' +note. In the work-room stood an easel with a half-finished painting +turned face downward, and on the wall hung studies in drawing. On +seeing that painting, on which he had worked two years, and those +drawings, he called to mind the feeling of impotence, which he +experienced of late with greatest force, to make further advance in +the art. He explained this feeling by the development of a fine +aesthetic taste, and yet this consciousness caused him unpleasant +sensations. + +Seven years before he had retired from active service he decided that +his true vocation in life was painting, and from the height of his +artistic activity he looked down upon all other occupations. And now +it appeared that he had no right to do so, and every recollection of +it was disagreeable to him. He looked on all the luxurious +appointments of the work-room with heavy heart, and walked into the +cabinet in ill humor. The cabinet was a high room, profusely +ornamented, and containing every imaginable device of comfort and +necessity. + +He produced from one of the drawers of a large table the summons, and, +ascertaining that he must appear at eleven o'clock, he sat down and +wrote to the Princess, thanking her for the invitation, and saying +that he should try to call for dinner. The tone of the note seemed to +him too intimate, and he tore it up; he wrote another, but that was +too formal, almost offensive. Again he tore it up, and touched a +button on the wall. A servant, morose, with flowing side-whiskers and +in a gray apron, entered. + +"Please send for a carriage." + +"Yes, sir." + +"And tell the Korchagins' maid that I thank them; I will try to call." + +"Yes, sir." + +"It is impolite, but I cannot write. But I will see her to-day," +thought Nekhludoff, and started to dress himself. + +When he emerged from the house a carriage with rubber tires awaited +him. + +"You had scarcely left Prince Korchagin's house yesterday when I +called for you," said the driver, half-turning his stout, sun-burned +neck in the white collar of his shirt, "and the footman said that you +had just gone." + +"Even the drivers know of my relations to the Korchagins," thought +Nekhludoff, and the unsolved question which continually occupied his +mind of late--whether or not he ought to marry Princess +Korchagin--again occurred to him, and, like most questions that he was +called upon to decide at that time, it remained unsolved. + +He had many reasons for, and as many against, marriage. There was the +pleasure of domestic life, which made it possible to lead a moral +life, as he called married life; then, and principally, the family and +children would infuse his present aimless life with a purpose. This +was for marriage generally. On the other hand there was, first, the +loss of freedom which all elderly bachelors fear so much; and, second, +an unconscious awe of that mysterious creature, woman. + +However, in favor of marrying Missy in particular (Korchagin's name +was Maria, but, as usual in families of the higher classes, she +received a nickname) there was, first, the fact that she came of good +stock, and was in everything, from her dress to her manner of +speaking, walking and laughing, distinguished not by any exceptional +qualities, but by "good breeding"--he knew no other expression for the +quality which he prized very highly. Second, she valued him above all +other men, hence, he thought she understood him. And this appreciation +of him, that is, acknowledging his high qualities, was proof to +Nekhludoff of her intelligence and correct judgment. Finally, against +marrying Missy in particular, was, first, the extreme probability of +his finding a girl of much better qualities than Missy, and, +consequently, more worthy of him; and, second, Missy was twenty-seven +years old and had probably loved other men before him. This thought +tormented him. His pride could not reconcile itself to the thought +that she could love some one else, even in the past. Of course, she +could not be expected to know that she would meet him, but the very +thought that she could have loved some one else before offended him. + +So that there were as many reasons for as there were against marriage +in general and marrying Missy in particular. At all events the +arguments were equally strong on both sides, and Nekhludoff laughed as +he compared himself to the ass in the fable who, while deciding which +of the two bales of hay before him he should have his meal from, +starved himself. + +"However, until I have heard from Maria Vasilieona, the wife of the +commander, and have done with her for good, I can do nothing," he said +to himself. + +And the consciousness that he could and must defer his decision +pleased him. + +"Ah, but I will consider it all later," he said to himself, as his +cabriolet silently approached the asphalt pavement of the court-house. + +"And now I must do my duty to the community conscientiously, as I +always do, and think it one's duty to do. Besides, it is often +interesting," he said, and went past the door-keeper into the +vestibule of the court. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +There was great commotion in the corridors of the court when +Nekhludoff entered. + +The attendants flitted to and fro breathlessly, delivering orders and +documents. Police captains, lawyers and clerks passed now one way, now +the other; complainants and defendants under bail leaned sadly against +the walls, or were sitting and waiting. + +"Where is the Circuit Court?" asked Nekhludoff of one of the +attendants. + +"Which one? There is a civil division and a criminal one." + +"I am a juror." + +"Criminal division. You should have said so. This way, to the right, +then turn to your left. The second door." + +Nekhludoff went as directed. + +At the door two men stood waiting. One was a tall, stout merchant, a +good-natured man, who had evidently partaken of some liquor and was in +very high spirits; the other was a clerk of Jewish extraction. They +were talking about the price of wool when Nekhludoff approached them +and asked if that was the jury's room. + +"Here, sir, here. Are you also one of the jurymen?" mirthfully winking +his eyes, the good-natured merchant asked. + +"Well, we will drudge together, I suppose," he continued in response +to Nekhludoff's affirmative answer. "My name is Baklashoff, merchant +of the second guild," he introduced himself, extending his soft, broad +hand; "we must do our duty. Whom have I the honor of addressing?" + +Nekhludoff gave his name and passed into the jury-room. + +In the small jury-room there were about ten men of every description. +They had just arrived; some were sitting, others walked about, eyeing, +and making each other's acquaintance. One was a retired officer in +uniform; others were in short coats, and but one in peasant garb. + +Notwithstanding that they were all complaining that the jury duty was +burdensome, and was taking them away from their business, they all +seemed to be pleased with the consciousness of performing an important +civic duty. + +The jurymen talked among themselves of the weather, of the premature +spring, of the business before them. Those who were not acquainted +with Nekhludoff hastened to become so, evidently considering it an +honor. And Nekhludoff, as was usual with him among strangers, received +it as his due. If he were asked why he considered himself above the +majority of people he would not be able to answer, as there was +nothing in his life transcending the commonplace. The fact that he +spoke English, French and German fluently; that his linen, clothing, +scarf and cuff-buttons were of superior make would not be sufficient +reason for assuming his superiority, as he himself well understood. +And yet he doubtless acknowledged in himself this superiority, and +regarded the respect shown him as his due, and was offended when it +was not forthcoming. It just happened that in the jury-room Nekhludoff +experienced this disagreeable feeling of being treated with +disrespect. Among the jurymen there was an acquaintance of Nekhludoff. +This was Peter Gerasimovitch (Nekhludoff never knew, and even boasted +of the fact that he did not know his surname), who was at one time +tutor to his sister's children. Peter Gerasimovitch was now teacher in +a college. Nekhludoff could never bear his familiarity, his +self-satisfied laughter--in a word, his "communizing," as Nekhludoff's +sister used to put it. + +"Ha, ha! So you are also trapped?" he greeted Nekhludoff with a loud +burst of laughter. "You did not escape it?" + +"I never intended to evade my duty," sternly and gloomily said +Nekhludoff. + +"That I call civic virtue. But wait till you are hungry and sleepy, +you will sing another tune," Peter Gerasimovitch said, laughing still +louder. + +"This son of an archdeacon will soon begin to 'thou' me," thought +Nekhludoff, with an expression of sadness on his face, as though he +had just learned of a grievous loss in his family. He turned from the +ex-tutor and approached a group of people that had formed around a +clean-faced, tall man, of dignified carriage, who were holding a +spirited conversation. The man was speaking of a case that was being +tried in the civil division, showing his familiarity with the judges +and the famous lawyers by referring to them by name. He was telling +them of the remarkable turn given to the probable result of the case +by the dexterity of a famous lawyer, by which an old lady, who was in +the right, would be obliged to pay an enormous sum to the adverse +side. + +"He is a most ingenious attorney," he said. + +He was listened to with respect, and some attempted to interrupt him +with some remarks, but he cut them short as if he alone knew the true +facts. + +Although Nekhludoff arrived late, there was a long wait before him, +which was caused by the failure of one of the judges to appear. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +The presiding justice arrived early. He was a tall, stout man, with +long, grayish side-whiskers. He was married, but, like his wife, led a +very dissolute life. They did not interfere with each other. On the +morning in question he received a note from a Swiss governess, who had +lived in his house during the summer, and was now passing on her way +from the South to St. Petersburg. She wrote that she would be in town +between three and six o'clock p.m., and wait for him at the "Hotel +Italia." He was, therefore, anxious to end his day's sitting before +six o'clock, that he might meet the red-haired Clara Vasilievna. + +Entering his private chamber, and locking the door behind him, he +produced from the lower shelf of a book-case two dumb-bells, made +twenty motions upward, forward, sidewise and downward, and three times +lowered himself, holding the bells above his head. + +"Nothing so refreshes one as a cold-water bath and exercise," he +thought, feeling with his left hand, on the fourth finger of which was +a gold ring, the biceps of his right arm. He had to go through two +more movements (these exercises he went through every day before court +opened), when the door rattled. Some one was attempting to open it. +The judge quickly replaced the dumb-bells and opened the door. + +"I beg your pardon," he said. + +One of the members of the court, wearing gold eye-glasses, of medium +height, with high shoulders and frowning countenance, entered. + +"Matvei Nikitich is late again," said the newcomer, with an air of +displeasure. + +"Yes," said the presiding judge, donning his robes. "He is always +late." + +"It is a shame," said the member, and sat down angrily, then lighted a +cigarette. + +This member of the court, a very punctilious man, had this morning had +an unpleasant encounter with his wife, which was caused by her +spending her monthly allowance before the month was up. She asked for +a sum of money in advance, and he refused. The result was a quarrel. +She said that unless he gave her the money there would be no dinner +that night, and that he would have to dine outside. He departed in +fear that she would carry out her threat, as anything might be +expected from her. + +"Is it worth while leading a good, moral life?" he thought, as he +looked at the beaming, healthy, joyful and good-natured presiding +justice, who, spreading his elbows, stroked his long, gray whiskers; +"he is always contented and cheerful, while I am suffering." + +The secretary entered and handed the presiding justice a document. + +"Thank you," he said, and lighted a cigarette. "Which case shall be +taken up first?" + +"The poison case, I think," the secretary answered, with feigned +indifference. + +"Very well; so let it be the poison case," said the justice, +considering that that case could be disposed of by four o'clock and +make it possible for him to keep the appointment. "Has Matvei Nikitich +arrived?" + +"Not yet." + +"Is Breae here?" + +"Yes," answered the secretary. + +"Then tell him that we shall try the poisoning case." + +Breae was an assistant prosecuting attorney and was assigned to this +term of the court. + +The secretary met Breae in the corridor. With uplifted shoulders, his +robe unbuttoned, and portfolio under his arm, he almost ran, his heels +clattering on the floor, and his disengaged hand outstretched in the +direction in which he was going. + +"Michael Petrovich desires to know if you are ready," said the +secretary. + +"Certainly; I am always ready," said the assistant prosecutor; "which +is the first case?" + +"The poisoning case." + +"Very well," said the assistant prosecutor, but he did not consider it +well at all--he had not slept all night. A send-off had been given to +a departing friend, and he drank and played till two in the morning, +so that he was entirely unfamiliar with this case, and now hastened to +glance over the indictment. The secretary had purposely suggested the +case, knowing that the prosecutor had not read it. The secretary was a +man of liberal, even radical, ideas. Breae was conservative, and the +secretary disliked him, and envied his position. + +"And what about the Skoptzy?"[A] + +"I have already said that I cannot prosecute them in the absence of +witnesses," said the assistant prosecutor, "and I will so declare to +the court." + +"But you don't need----" + +"I cannot," said the assistant prosecutor, and waving his hand, ran to +his office. + +He was postponing the case against the Skoptzy, although the absent +witness was an entirely unnecessary one. The real reason of the +postponement was that the prosecutor feared that their trial before an +intelligent jury might end in their acquittal. By an understanding +with the presiding justice their case was to be transferred to the +session of the District Court, where the preponderance of peasants on +the jury would insure their conviction. + +The commotion in the corridor increased. The greatest crowd was before +the Civil Court, where the case of which the portly gentleman was +telling the jurymen was being tried. During a recess the same old lady +from whom the ingenious attorney managed to win her property in favor +of his shrewd client, came out of the court-room. That he was not +entitled to the property was known to the judges as well as to the +claimant and his attorney, but the mode of their procedure was such +that it was impossible to dismiss their claim. The old lady was stout, +in smart attire, and with large flowers on her hat. As she passed +into the corridor she stopped, and turning to her lawyer, kept +repeating: + +"How can it be? Great heavens! I don't understand it!" + +The lawyer did not listen to her, but looked at the flowers on her +hat, making mental calculations. + +Behind the old lady, beaming in his wide-open vest, and with a +self-sufficient smile on his face, came that same famous lawyer who so +managed the case that the lady with the large flowers lost all her +property, while his shrewd client, who paid him ten thousand rubles, +received over a hundred thousand. All eyes were directed toward him. +He was conscious of it and seemed to say by his demeanor: + +"Never mind your expressions of devotion," and brushed past the crowd. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote A: A sect of eunuchs.] + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Finally Matvei Nikitich arrived, and the usher, a long-necked and lean +man, with a sideling gait and protruding lower lip, entered the +jury-room. + +The usher was an honest man, with a university education, but he could +not hold any employment on account of his tippling habit. A countess, +his wife's patroness, had obtained him his present position three +months ago; he still retained it, and was exceedingly glad. + +"Are you all here, gentlemen?" he asked, putting on his pince-nez and +looking through it. + +"I think so," said the cheerful merchant. + +"Let us see," said the usher, and drawing a sheet of paper from his +pocket, began to call the names of the jury, looking at those that +responded to their names now through his pince-nez, now over it. + +"Counsilor of State E. M. Nikiforoff." + +"Here," said the portly gentleman, who was familiar with all the +litigations. + +"Retired Colonel Ivan Semionovich Ivanoff." + +"Present," answered a lank man in the uniform of a retired officer. + +"Merchant of the second guild, Peter Baklashoff." + +"Here," said the good-natured merchant, smiling from ear to ear. "We +are ready." + +"Lieutenant of the Guards, Prince Dmitri Nekhludoff." + +"Here," answered Nekhludoff. + +The usher, looking politely and pleasantly through his pince-nez, +bowed, thereby distinguishing him from the rest, as it were. + +"Captain Uri Dmitrievich Danchenko; merchant Gregory Ephimovich +Kouleshoff," etc., etc., etc. + +There were but two missing from the panel. + +"You will now, gentlemen, walk into the court," said the usher, +pointing to the door with a polite sweep of the hand. + +They all rose from their seats, and passing each other through the +door, made their way through the corridor to the court-room. + +The court was held in a large, oblong room. At one end was a platform, +reached by three steps. In the middle of the platform stood a table, +covered with green cloth, which was fringed with a dark-green lace. +Behind the table stood three arm-chairs with high, carved backs. In an +image-case suspended in the right corner was a representation of +Christ with a crown of thorns, and beneath it a reading-desk, and on +the same side stood the prosecutor's desk. To the left, opposite this +desk, was the secretary's table, and dividing these from the seats +reserved for spectators was a carved railing, along which stood the +prisoners' bench, as yet unoccupied. + +On an elevation to the right were two rows of chairs, also with high +backs, reserved for the jury; below these were tables for the +attorneys. All this was in the front part of the court-room, which was +divided in two by a railing. In the rear part of the room benches in +lines extended to the wall. In the front row sat four women, either +servants or factory employees, and two men, also workmen, who were +evidently awed by the grandeur of the ornamentations, and were timidly +whispering to each other. + +Soon after the jurymen came the usher, who, walking sidewise to the +middle of the room, shouted, as if he meant to frighten those present: + +"The court is coming!" + +Everybody stood up, and the judges ascended the platform. First came +the presiding judge with his muscles and beautiful whiskers. Then came +the gold-spectacled, gloomy member of the court--now even more gloomy, +for before the opening of the session he met his brother-in-law, a +candidate for a judicial office, who told him that he had seen his +sister, and that she declared that there would be no dinner at home +this day. + +"So that, it seems, we will have to dine at an inn," said the +brother-in-law, laughing. + +"What is there droll about it?" said the gloomy member of the court, +and sank into a still deeper gloom. + +And last of all came the third member of the court, that same Matvei +Nikitich, who was always late. He wore a long beard, and had large, +kindly eyes, with drooping eyelids. He suffered from catarrh of the +stomach, and by the advice of his physician had adopted a new regimen, +and this new regimen detained him this morning longer than usual. When +he ascended the platform he seemed to be wrapped in thought, but only +because he had the habit of making riddles of every question that +occurred to him. At this moment he was occupied with the following +enigmatical proposition: + +If the number of steps in the distance between the cabinet-door and +the arm-chair will divide by three without a remainder, then the new +regimen will cure him; but if it does not so divide, then it will not. +There were twenty-six steps, but he made one short step and reached +the chair with the twenty-seventh. + +As the judges ascended the elevation in their uniforms, with +gold-laced collars, they presented an imposing array. They themselves +felt it, and all three, as if confused by their own greatness, +modestly lowered their eyes, and hastily seated themselves behind the +table on which clean paper and freshly-pointed lead pencils of all +sizes had been placed. The prosecutor, who entered with the judges, +also hastily walked to his place near the window, his portfolio still +under his arm, and waving his hand he began to read the papers in the +case, utilizing every moment to prepare himself. + +This was his fifth case as prosecuting attorney. He was ambitious, and +was determined to make his career, and hence he endeavored to obtain +a conviction in every case he prosecuted. He knew the main points of +the poisoning case, and had already planned his speech; but he needed +to know some particulars of which he was now making extracts from the +papers. + +The secretary sat on the opposite side of the elevation, and, having +prepared all the papers that might be necessary to produce on trial, +was glancing over a newspaper article, which he had obtained and read +the day before. He was anxious to talk to the member of the court with +the long beard, who shared his views, and before doing so wished to +better familiarize himself with it. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +The presiding justice looked over the papers, asked some questions of +the usher, and receiving affirmative answers, ordered that the +prisoners be brought into court. Immediately a door beyond the grating +opened, and two gendarmes with unsheathed swords and caps on their +heads, stepped into the court-room. Behind them came a freckled, +red-haired man and two women. The man was dressed in prisoner's garb +which was too long and too wide for him. As he entered the court-room +he held up with outspread fingers the sleeves which were too long. +Without looking at the judges or the spectators, his attention was +absorbed by the bench around which he was led. When he had passed +around he carefully seated himself on the edge, and making room for +the others, began to stare at the presiding justice, the muscles of +his cheeks moving as if he were whispering something. He was followed +by a middle-aged woman, also dressed in a prisoner's coat. A white +prison cap covered her head; her face was grayish, and her eyes were +devoid of either eye-lashes or eyebrows. She seemed quite composed. As +she was passing the railing to take her seat, her coat caught at +something; without haste, she carefully disengaged it, then smoothed +it and took her seat. + +The third prisoner was Maslova. + +No sooner did she enter than all the male spectators turned their +eyes toward her, attracted by her white face, lustrous black eyes and +high breast. Even the gendarme whom she passed gazed at her until she +seated herself; then, as if feeling himself guilty, he quickly turned +his head from her and straightening himself, he began to gaze into the +window directly in front of him. + +The presiding justice waited until all the prisoners took their +places, and as soon as Maslova was seated, he turned to the secretary. + +Then commenced the customary proceeding; calling of the jurymen, +fining the absent ones, listening to the claims of exemption from jury +duty and filling the panel from a number of reserves. Then the +presiding justice folded the slips of paper, placed them in a glass +vase, and turning up his gold-laced sleeve drew the slips one by one, +unrolled them and read them aloud. Then he straightened his sleeve and +called on the priest to swear in the jury. + +An old little priest with a swollen, pale yellow face, in a brown +cassock and gold cross on his breast and some small badges pinned to +the cassock, slowly moving his swollen feet under the cassock, +approached the reading desk under the image. + +The jury rose and, crowding each other, came forward. + +"Come nearer, please," said the priest, touching with his swollen hand +the cross on his breast, and waiting until all the jury were near him. + +While the jury were mounting the steps to the elevation where the desk +stood, the priest wriggled his bald, hoary head through the opening of +the stole, then rearranging his scanty hair, he turned to the jury: + +"Raise your right hands and keep your fingers thus," he said, in a +slow, feeble voice, raising his bloated hand and pointing at his +forehead with the first three of its dimpled fingers. "Now repeat +after me: 'I promise and swear by the Almighty God, His Holy Gospel, +and by the life-giving cross of our Lord, that in the case'"--he +continued, resting after each phrase. "Don't drop your hand; hold it +thus," he turned to a young man who let his hand fall--"'that in the +case which----'" + +The portly, whiskered gentleman, the colonel, merchant and others +held their hands as directed by the priest, and seemed to do so with +particular pleasure, holding their hands quite high, and their fingers +most proper; others seemed to do it against their will, and +carelessly. Some repeated the words too loudly, in a provoking manner, +with an expression on the face which seemed to say: "I will repeat as +I please;" others whispered, fell behind the priest and then, as if +frightened, hastened to catch up with him. Some held their fingers +tightly closed, as if challenging anyone to part them; others, again, +loosened them, now closed them again. After the jury was sworn, the +presiding justice directed them to choose a foreman. They arose and, +crowding each other, went into the consultation room, where almost +every one produced cigarettes and began to smoke. Some one proposed +the portly gentleman, who was immediately chosen, then they threw away +their cigarettes and returned to the court. The gentleman declared to +the presiding justice that he was chosen foreman, and stepping over +the feet of each other, the jury again seated themselves in the two +rows of high-backed chairs. + +Everything proceeded smoothly, quickly and not without solemnity, and +the regularity, order and solemnity evidently pleased the +participants, confirming their sense of rendering important public +service. Nekhludoff also experienced this feeling. + +As soon as the jury seated themselves the presiding justice instructed +them in their rights, duties and responsibilities. While speaking, he +was constantly changing his attitude; now he leaned on his right hand, +now on his left; then he reclined in his chair, or rested his hands on +the arms of the chair, smoothed the corners of the paper on the table, +polished the paper-knife or clutched the lead pencil. + +Their rights, according to him, consisted in that they were allowed to +question prisoners, through the presiding justice; they might keep +pencils and paper, and might also view exhibits. Their duties +consisted in not giving a false verdict. And their responsibilities +consisted in that if they failed to keep secret their deliberations, +or spoke to outsiders, they would be liable to punishment. + +They all listened with respectful attention. The merchant, from whom +the fumes of wine spread through the jury box, and who was suppressing +the noisy rising of gases in his stomach, approvingly nodded at every +sentence. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +After he had finished the instructions, the presiding justice turned +to the prisoners. + +"Simon Kartinkin, rise!" he said. + +Simon sprang up nervously. The muscles of his cheeks began to twitch +still quicker. + +"What is your name?" + +"Simon Petroff Kartinkin," he said quickly, in a sharp voice, +evidently prepared for the question. + +"What estate?" + +"Peasant." + +"What government, district?" + +"Government of Tula, district of Krapivensk, Kupian township, village +of Borki." + +"How old are you?" + +"Thirty-four; born in eighteen hundred----" + +"What faith?" + +"Of the Russian orthodox faith." + +"Are you married?" + +"O, no!" + +"What is your occupation?" + +"I was employed in the Hotel Mauritania." + +"Were you ever arrested before?" + +"I was never arrested before, because where I lived----" + +"You were not arrested?" + +"God forbid! Never!" + +"Have you received a copy of the indictment?" + +"Yes." + +"Sit down. Euphemia Ivanovna Bochkova!" The presiding justice turned +to the next prisoner. + +But Simon remained standing in front of Bochkova. + +"Kartinkin, sit down!" + +Kartinkin still remained standing. + +"Kartinkin, sit down!" + +But Kartinkin stood still until the usher, his head leaning to the +side, and with wide-open eyes, whispered to him in a tragic tone: + +"Sit down, sit down!" + +Kartinkin sat down as quickly as he rose, and wrapping himself in his +coat began to move his cheeks. + +"Your name?" With a sigh of weariness the presiding justice turned to +the next prisoner without looking at her, and consulted a paper before +him. He was so accustomed to the business that to expedite matters he +could try two cases at once. + +Bochkova was forty-two years old, a burgess of the town of Koloma; by +occupation a servant--in the same Hotel Mauritania. Was never arrested +before, and had received a copy of the indictment. She gave the +answers very boldly and with an intonation which seemed to add to +every answer. + +"Yes, Bochkova, Euphemia, have received a copy, and am proud of it, +and will permit no one to laugh at me." + +Without waiting to be told to sit down, Bochkova sat down immediately +after the questioning ceased. + +"Your name?" asked the presiding justice of the third prisoner. "You +must rise," he added, gently and courteously, seeing Maslova still in +her seat. + +With quick movement Maslova rose with an air of submissiveness, and +throwing back her shoulders, looked into the face of the presiding +justice with her smiling, somewhat squinting black eyes. + +"What are you called?" + +"They used to call me Lubka," she answered, rapidly. + +Meanwhile Nekhludoff put on his pince-nez and examined the prisoners +while they were questioned. + +"It is impossible," he thought, looking intently at the prisoner. "But +her name is Lubka," he thought, as he heard her answer. + +The presiding justice was about to continue his interrogation when the +member with the eye-glasses, angrily whispering something, stopped +him. The presiding justice nodded his assent and turned to the +prisoner. + +"You say 'Lubka,' but a different name is entered here." + +The prisoner was silent. + +"I ask you what is your real name?" + +"What name did you receive at baptism?" asked the angry member. + +"Formerly I was called Katherine." + +"It is impossible," Nekhludoff continued to repeat, although there was +no doubt in his mind now that it was she, that same servant ward with +whom he had been in love at one time--yes, in love, real love, and +whom in a moment of mental fever he led astray, then abandoned, and to +whom he never gave a second thought, because the recollection of it +was too painful, revealed too manifestly that he, who prided himself +of his good breeding, not only did not treat her decently, but basely +deceived her. + +Yes, it was she. He saw plainly the mysterious peculiarity that +distinguishes every individual from every other individual. +Notwithstanding the unnatural whiteness and fullness of her face, this +pleasant peculiarity was in the face, in the lips, in the slightly +squinting eyes, and, principally, in the naive, smiling glance, and in +the expression of submissiveness not only in the face, but in the +whole figure. + +"You should have said so," again very gently said the presiding +justice. "What is your patronymic?" + +"I am illegitimate," said Maslova. + +"But yet you were named after your godfather?" + +"Michailova." + +"What crime could she have committed?" Nekhludoff thought meanwhile, +his breath almost failing him. + +"What is your surname--your family name?" continued the presiding +justice. + +"Maslova--after my mother." + +"Your estate?" + +"Burgess." + +"Of the orthodox faith?" + +"Yes." + +"Your occupation? What was your occupation?" + +Maslova was silent. + +"What was your occupation?" repeated the justiciary. + +"You know!" said Maslova. She smiled and quickly glanced around, then +looked squarely at the justiciary. + +There was something so unusual in the expression of her +face--something so terrible and piteous in the meaning of her words, +in that smile, that quick glance which she cast over the +court-room--that the justiciary hung his head, and for a moment there +was perfect silence. + +A burst of laughter from some spectator interrupted the silence. Some +one hissed. The justiciary raised his head and continued the +interrogation. + +"Were you ever arrested?" + +"No." Maslova said in an undertone, sighing. + +"Have you received a copy of the indictment?" + +"Yes." + +"Sit down." + +The prisoner raised her skirt with the customary movement of a +fashionable lady, arranging her train, and sat down, folding her hands +in the sleeves of her coat, and still looking at the justiciary. + +Then began the recounting of witnesses, their removal to a separate +room, the decision on the evidence of the medical expert. Then the +secretary arose and began to read the indictment, loud and with +distinctness, but so rapidly that his incorrect sounding of the +letters l and r turned his reading into one continuous, weary drone. +The judges leaned now on one side, now on the other side of their +arm-chairs, then on the table, and again on the backs of the chairs, +or closed their eyes, or opened them and whispered to each other. One +of the gendarmes several times stifled a yawn. + +The convulsions of Kartinkin's cheeks did not cease. Bochkova sat +quietly and erect, now and then scratching with her finger under her +cap. + +Maslova sat motionless, listening to the reading, and looking at the +clerk; at times she shuddered and made a movement as if desiring to +object, blushed, then sighed deeply, changed the position of her +hands, glanced around and again looked at the clerk. + +Nekhludoff sat on the high-backed chair in the front row, second to +the aisle, and without removing his pince-nez looked at Maslova, while +his soul was being racked by a fierce and complicated struggle. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +The indictment read as follows: + +"On the 17th of January, 18--, suddenly died in the Hotel Mauritania, +merchant of the second guild, Therapont Emelianovich Smelkoff. + +"The local police physician certified that the cause of death of said +Smelkoff was rupture of the heart, caused by excessive use of liquor. + +"The body of Smelkoff was interred. + +"On the 21st day of January, a townsman and comrade of Smelkoff, on +returning from St. Petersburg, and hearing of the circumstances of his +death, declared his suspicion that Smelkoff was poisoned with a view +of robbing him of the money he carried about his person. + +"This suspicion was confirmed at the preliminary inquest, by which it +was established: 1. That Smelkoff had drawn from the bank, some time +before his death, three thousand eight hundred rubles; that, after a +due and careful inventory of the money of the deceased, only three +hundred and twelve rubles and sixteen kopecks were found. 2. That the +entire day and evening preceding his death deceased passed in the +company of a girl named Lubka (Katherine Maslova) in the Hotel +Mauritania, whither said Maslova came at the request of Smelkoff for +money; that she obtained the money from Smelkoff's trunk, first +unlocking it with a key intrusted to her by Smelkoff; that the money +was thus taken in the presence of two servants of the said +hotel--Euphemia Bochkova and Simon Kartinkin; that at the opening of +said trunk by the said Maslova in the presence of the aforementioned +Bochkova and Kartinkin, there were rolls of hundred ruble bills. 3. +That on the return of said Smelkoff and Maslova to the said hotel, the +said Maslova, on the advice of the said servant Kartinkin, +administered to the deceased a glass of brandy, in which she put a +white powder given her by said Kartinkin. 4. That on the following +morning Lubka (Katherine Maslova) sold to her mistress, Rosanova, a +diamond ring belonging to Smelkoff, said ring she alleged to have +been presented to her by said Smelkoff. 5. That the servant of said +Hotel Mauritania, Euphemia Bochkova, deposited in her name in the +local Bank of Commerce the sum of eighteen hundred rubles. + +"At the autopsy held on the body of Smelkoff, and after the removal of +the intestines, the presence of poison was readily discovered, leaving +no doubt that death was caused by poisoning. + +"The prisoners, Maslova, Bochkova and Kartinkin pleaded not guilty. +Maslova declared that she did go to the Hotel Mauritania, as stated, +for the purpose of fetching some money for the merchant, and that +opening the trunk with the key given to her by the merchant, she took +only forty rubles, as she was directed, but took no more, which fact +can be substantiated by Bochkova and Kartinkin, in whose presence she +took the money and locked the trunk. She further testified that during +her second visit to the room of the merchant she gave him, at the +instigation of Kartinkin, several powders in a glass of brandy, which +she considered to be narcotic, in order that she might get away from +him. The ring was presented to her by Smelkoff when she cried and was +about to leave him after he had beaten her. + +"Euphemia Bochkova testified that she knew nothing about the missing +money, never entered the merchant's room, which Lubka herself kept in +order, and that if anything was stolen from the merchant, it was done +by Lubka when she came to the room for the money." + +At this point Maslova shuddered, and with open mouth looked at +Bochkova. + +"And when Euphemia Bochkova was shown her bank account of eighteen +hundred rubles," continued the secretary, "and asked how she came by +the money, she testified that the money was saved from their earnings +by herself and Simon Kartinkin, whom she intended to marry. + +"Simon Kartinkin, on his part, at the first examination, confessed +that, at the instigation of Maslova, who brought the key to the trunk, +he and Bochkova stole the money, which was afterwards divided between +the three." + +At this Maslova shuddered again, sprang to her feet, turned red in +the face, and began to say something, but the usher bade her be quiet. + +"Finally," continued the secretary, "Kartinkin also confessed to +giving Maslova the powders to put the merchant to sleep. On the second +examination, however, he denied having either stolen the money, or +given Maslova the powders, but charged Maslova with both. As to the +money placed by Bochkova in the bank, he declared, in accordance with +Bochkova's testimony, that they had saved it during their twelve +years' service in the hotel." + +The indictment wound up as follows: + +"In view of the aforesaid the defendants, Simon Kartinkin, peasant of +the village of Borkoff, thirty-three years of age; burgess Euphemia +Ivanova Bochkova, forty-two years of age, and burgess Katherine +Maslova, twenty-seven years of age, conspired on the 17th day of +January, 188-, to administer poison to merchant Smelkoff with intent +to kill and rob him, and did on said day administer to said Smelkoff +poison, from which poison the said Smelkoff died, and did thereafter +rob him of a diamond ring and twenty-five hundred rubles, contrary to +the laws in such cases made and provided. Chapter 1453, sections 4 and +5, Penal Code. + +"Wherefore, in accordance with chapter 201 of the Code of Criminal +Procedure, the said peasant, Simon Kartinkin, burgess Euphemia +Bochkova and burgess Katherine Maslova are subject to trial by jury, +the case being within the jurisdiction of the Circuit Court." + +The clerk having finished the reading of the long indictment, folded +the papers, seated himself at his desk and began to arrange his long +hair. Every one present gave a sigh of relief, and with the +consciousness that the trial had already begun, everything would be +cleared up and justice would finally be done, leaned back on their +chairs. + +Nekhludoff alone did not experience this feeling. He was absorbed in +the horrible thought that the same Maslova, whom he knew as an +innocent and beautiful girl ten years ago, could be guilty of such a +crime. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +When the reading of the indictment was finished, the justiciary, +having consulted with his associates, turned to Kartinkin with an +expression on his face which plainly betokened confidence in his +ability to bring forth all the truth. + +"Simon Kartinkin," he called, leaning to the left. + +Simon Kartinkin rose, put out his chest, incessantly moving his +cheeks. + +"You are charged, together with Euphemia Bochkova and Katherine +Maslova, with stealing from the trunk of the merchant Smelkoff money +belonging to him, and subsequently brought arsenic and induced Maslova +to administer it to Smelkoff, by reason of which he came to his death. +Are you guilty or not guilty?" he said, leaning to the right. + +"It is impossible, because our business is to attend the guests----" + +"You will speak afterwards. Are you guilty or not?" + +"No, indeed. I only----" + +"You can speak later. Do you admit that you are guilty?" calmly but +firmly repeated the justiciary. + +"I cannot do it because----" + +Again the usher sprang toward Simon and with a tragic whisper stopped +him. + +The justiciary, with an expression showing that the questioning was at +an end, moved the hand in which he held a document to another place, +and turned to Euphemia Bochkova. + +"Euphemia Bochkova, you, with Kartinkin and Maslova, are charged with +stealing, on the 17th day of January, 188-, at the Hotel Mauritania, +from the trunk of the merchant Smelkoff, money and a ring, and +dividing the same among yourselves, and with a view of hiding your +crime, administered poison to him, from the effects of which he died. +Are you guilty?" + +"I am not guilty of anything," boldly and firmly answered the +prisoner. "I never entered the room--and as that scurvy woman did go +into the room, she, then, did the business----" + +"You will speak afterwards," again said the justiciary, with the same +gentleness and firmness. "So you are not guilty?" + +"I did not take the money, did not give him the poison, did not go +into the room. If I were in the room I should have thrown her out." + +"You are not guilty, then?" + +"Never." + +"Very well." + +"Katherine Maslova," began the justiciary, turning to the third +prisoner. "The charge against you is that, having come to the Hotel +Mauritania with the key to Smelkoff's trunk, you stole therefrom money +and a ring," he said, like one repeating a lesson learned by rote, and +leaning his ear to the associate sitting on his left, who said that he +noticed that the phial mentioned in the list of exhibits was missing. +"Stole therefrom money and a ring," repeated the justiciary, "and +after dividing the money again returned with the merchant Smelkoff to +the Hotel Mauritania, and there administered to him poison, from the +effects of which he died. Are you guilty or not guilty?" + +"I am not guilty of anything," she answered, quickly. "As I said +before, so I repeat now: I never, never, never took the money; I did +not take anything, and the ring he gave me himself." + +"You do not plead guilty of stealing twenty-five hundred rubles?" said +the justiciary. + +"I say I didn't take anything but forty rubles." + +"And do you plead guilty to the charge of giving the merchant Smelkoff +powders in his wine?" + +"To that I plead guilty. Only I thought, as I was told, that they +would put him to sleep, and that no harm could come from them. I did +not wish, nor thought of doing him any harm. Before God, I say that I +did not," she said. + +"So you deny that you are guilty of stealing the money and ring from +the merchant Smelkoff," said the justiciary, "but you admit that you +gave him the powders?" + +"Of course, I admit, only I thought that they were sleeping powders. +I only gave them to him that he might fall asleep--never wished, nor +thought----" + +"Very well," said the justiciary, evidently satisfied with the results +of the examinations. "Now tell us how it happened," he said, leaning +his elbows on the arms of the chair and putting his hands on the +table. "Tell us everything. By confessing frankly you will improve +your present condition." + +Maslova, still looking straight at the justiciary, was silent. + +"Tell us what took place." + +"What took place?" suddenly said Maslova. "I came to the hotel; I was +taken to the room; he was there, and was already very drunk." (She +pronounced the word "he" with a peculiar expression of horror and with +wide-open eyes.) "I wished to depart; he would not let me." + +She became silent, as if she had lost the thread of the story, or +thought of something else. + +"What then?" + +"What then? Then I remained there awhile and went home." + +At this point the assistant public prosecutor half rose from his seat, +uncomfortably resting on one elbow. + +"Do you wish to question the prisoner?" asked the justiciary, and +receiving an affirmative answer, motioned his assent. + +"I would like to put this question: Has the prisoner been acquainted +with Simon Kartinkin before?" asked the assistant prosecutor without +looking at Maslova. + +And having asked the question he pressed his lips and frowned. + +The justiciary repeated the question. Maslova looked with frightened +eyes at the prosecutor. + +"With Simon? I was," she said. + +"I would like to know now, what was the character of the acquaintance +that existed between them. Have they met often?" + +"What acquaintance? He invited me to meet guests; there was no +acquaintance," answered Maslova, throwing restless glances now at the +prosecutor, now at the justiciary. + +"I would like to know why did Kartinkin invite Maslova only, and not +other girls?" asked the prosecutor, with a Mephistophelian smile, +winking his eyes. + +"I don't know. How can I tell?" answered Maslova, glancing around her, +frightened, and for a moment resting her eyes on Nekhludoff. "He +invited whomever he wished." + +"Is it possible that she recognized me?" Nekhludoff thought, with +horror. He felt his blood rising to his head, but Maslova did not +recognize him. She turned away immediately, and with frightened eyes +gazed at the prosecutor. + +"Then the prisoner denies that she had intimate relations with +Kartinkin? Very well. I have no more questions to ask." + +He removed his elbow from the desk, and began to make notes. In +reality, instead of making notes, he merely drew lines across his +notes, having seen prosecutors and attorneys, after an adroit +question, making memoranda of questions which were to crush their +opponents. + +The justiciary did not turn immediately to the prisoner, because he +was at the moment asking his associate in the eye-glasses whether he +consented to the questions previously outlined and committed to +writing. + +"What followed?" the justiciary continued. + +"I came home," Maslova continued, looking somewhat bolder, "and went +to sleep. As soon as I was asleep our girl, Bertha, came and woke me. +'Your merchant is here again. Wake up.' Then he"--again she pronounced +it with evident horror--"he wished to send for wine, but was short of +money. Then he sent me to the hotel, telling me where the money was +and how much to take, and I went." + +The justiciary was whispering at the time to his associate on the +left, and did not listen to Maslova, but to make it appear that he had +heard everything he repeated her last words. + +"And you went. Well, what else?" he asked. + +"I came there and did as he told me. I went to his room. I did not +enter it alone, but called Simon Michaelovich and her," she said, +pointing to Bochkova. + +"She lies; I never entered----" Bochkova began, but she was stopped. + +"In their presence I took four ten ruble bills," she continued. + +"And while taking this money, did the prisoner see how much money +there was?" asked the prosecutor. + +Maslova shuddered as soon as the prosecutor began to speak. She could +not tell why, but she felt that he was her enemy. + +"I did not count it, but I saw that it was all hundred ruble bills." + +"The prisoner saw hundred ruble bills. I have no other questions." + +"Well, did you bring back the money?" asked the justiciary, looking at +the clock. + +"I did." + +"Well, what then?" + +"Then he again took me with him," said Maslova. + +"And how did you give him the powder in the wine?" asked the +justiciary. + +"How? Poured it into the wine and gave it to him." + +"Why did you give it to him?" + +Without answering, she sighed deeply. After a short silence she said: + +"He would not let me go. He exhausted me. I went into the corridor and +said to Simon Michaelovich: 'If he would only let me go; I am so +tired.' And Simon Michaelovich said: 'We are also tired of him. We +intend to give him sleeping powders. When he is asleep you can go.' +'All right,' I said. I thought that it was a harmless powder. He gave +me a package. I entered. He lay behind the partition, and ordered me +to bring him some brandy. I took from the table a bottle of +feen-champagne, poured into two glasses--for myself and him--threw the +powder into his glass and handed it to him. I would not have given it +to him if I had known it." + +"And how did you come by the ring?" asked the justiciary. + +"He presented it to me." + +"When did he present it to you?" + +"When we reached his room. I wished to depart. Then he struck me on +the head and broke my comb. I was angered, and wished to go. Then he +took the ring from his finger and gave it to me, asking me to stay," +she said. + +Here the assistant prosecutor again rose, and with a dissimulating +naiveness asked permission to ask a few more questions, which was +granted, and leaning his head on his gold-embroidered collar, he +asked: + +"I would like to know how long was the prisoner in the room with +Smelkoff?" + +Maslova was again terror-stricken, and with her frightened eyes +wandering from the prosecutor to the justiciary, she answered, +hurriedly: + +"I do not remember how long." + +"And does the prisoner remember entering another part of the hotel +after she had left Smelkoff?" + +Maslova was thinking. + +"Into the next room--an empty one," she said. + +"Why did you enter that room?" said the assistant prosecutor, +impulsively. + +"To wait for a cabriolet." + +"Was not Kartinkin in the room with the prisoner?" + +"He also came in." + +"Why did he come in?" + +"There was the merchant's feen-champagne left, and we drank it +together." + +"Oh, drank together. Very well." + +"And did the prisoner have any conversation with Simon, and what was +the subject of the conversation?" + +Maslova suddenly frowned, her face turned red, and she quickly +answered: + +"What I said? I know nothing more. Do what you please with me. I am +innocent, and that is all. I did not say anything. I told everything +that happened." + +"I have no more questions to ask," said the prosecutor to the court, +and uplifting his shoulders he began to add to the memorandums of his +speech that the prisoner herself confessed to entering an empty room +with Simon. + +There was a short silence. + +"Have you anything else to say?" + +"I have told everything," she said, sighing, and took her seat. + +The justiciary then made some notes, and after he had listened to a +suggestion whispered by the associate on the left, declared a recess +of ten minutes, and, hastily rising, walked out of the court-room. + +After the judges had risen, the jury, lawyers and witness also rose, +and with the pleasant feeling of having already performed part of an +important work, began to move hither and thither. + +Nekhludoff walked into the jury-room and took a seat near the window. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +Yes, it was Katiousha. + +The relations of Nekhludoff to Katiousha were the following: + +Nekhludoff first met Katiousha when he went to stay one summer out at +the estate of his aunts in order that he might quietly prepare his +thesis on the private ownership of land. Ordinarily he lived on the +estate of his mother, near Moskow, with his mother and sister. But +that year his sister married, and his mother went abroad. Nekhludoff +had to write a composition in the course of his university studies, +and decided to pass the summer at his aunts'. There in the woods it +was quiet, and there was nothing to distract him from his studies. +Besides, the aunts loved their nephew and heir, and he loved them, +loved their old-fashioned way of living. + +During that summer Nekhludoff experienced that exaltation which youth +comes to know not by the teaching of others, but when it naturally +begins to recognize the beauty and importance of life, and man's +serious place in it; when it sees the possibility of infinite +perfection of which the world is capable, and devotes itself to that +endeavor, not only with the hope, but with a full conviction of +reaching that perfection which it imagines possible. While in the +university he had that year read Spencer's Social Statics, and +Spencer's reasoning bearing on private ownership of land produced a +strong impression on him, especially because he was himself the son of +a landed proprietress. His father was not rich, but his mother +received as her marriage portion ten thousand acres of land. He then +for the first time understood all the injustice of private ownership +of land, and being one of those to whom any sacrifice in the name of +moral duty was a lofty spiritual enjoyment, he forthwith divided the +land he had inherited from his father among the peasants. On this +subject he was then composing a disquisition. + +His life on the estate of his aunts was ordered in the following way: +He rose very early, some times at three o'clock, and till sunrise +bathed in the river under a hill, often in the morning mist, and +returned when the dew was yet on the grass and flowers. Some mornings +he would, after partaking of coffee, sit down to write his +composition, or read references bearing on the subject. But, above +all, he loved to ramble in the woods. Before dinner he would lie down +in the woods and sleep; then, at dinner, he made merry, jesting with +his aunts; then went out riding or rowing. In the evening he read +again, or joined his aunts, solving riddles for them. On moonlit +nights he seldom slept, because of the immense joy of life that +pervaded him, and instead of sleeping, he sometimes rambled in the +garden till daylight, absorbed in his thoughts and phantasies. + +Thus he lived happily the first month under the roof of his aunts' +dwelling, paying no attention to the half-servant, half-ward, the +black-eyed, nimble-footed Katiousha. + +Nekhludoff, raised under the protecting wing of his mother, was at +nineteen a perfectly innocent youth. He dreamed of woman, but only as +wife. All those women who, according to his view, could not be +considered as likely to become his wife, were to him not women, but +people. But it happened on Ascension Day that there was visiting his +aunts a lady from the neighborhood with her two young daughters, her +son and a local artist who was staying with them. + +After tea had been served the entire company, as usual, repaired to +the meadow, where they played blind man's buff. Katiousha went with +them. After some exchanges came Nekhludoff's turn to run with +Katiousha. Nekhludoff always liked to see Katiousha, but it had never +occurred to him that their relations could ever be any but the most +formal. + +"It will be difficult to catch them now," said the cheerful artist, +whose short and curved legs carried him very swiftly, "unless they +stumble." + +"You could not catch them." + +"One, two, three!" + +They clapped their hands three times. Almost bursting into laughter, +Katiousha quickly changed places with Nekhludoff, and pressing with +her strong, rough little hand his large hand she ran to the left, +rustling her starched skirt. + +Nekhludoff was a swift runner; he wished to out-distance the artist, +and ran with all his might. As he turned around he saw the artist +catching up with Katiousha, but with her supple limbs she gained on +him and ran to the left. In front of them was a patch of lilac bushes, +behind which no one ran, but Katiousha, turning toward Nekhludoff, +motioned him with her head to join her there. He understood her, and +ran behind the bushes. But here was a ditch overgrown with nettles, +whose presence was unknown to Nekhludoff. He stumbled and fell, +stinging and wetting his hands in the evening dew that was now +falling, but, laughing, he straightened himself and ran into the open. + +Katiousha, her black eyes beaming with joy, ran toward him. They met +and caught each others' hands. + +"You were stung by the nettles, I suppose," she said, arranging with +her free hand her loosened braid, breathing heavily, and looking up +into his eyes. + +"I did not know there was a ditch," he said, also smiling, and still +keeping her hand in his. + +She advanced a little, and he, without being able to account for it, +inclined his face toward hers. She did not draw back. He pressed her +hand and kissed her on the lips. + +She uttered an exclamation, and with a swift movement, releasing her +hand, she ran in the direction of the crowd. + +Plucking two lilac twigs from the lilac bush, fanning her flushed face +with them, and glancing around toward him, she ran to the players, +briskly waving her hands. + +From this day on the relations between Nekhludoff and Katiousha were +changed, and there were established between them those peculiar +relations which are customary between two innocent young people who +are attached to each other. + +As soon as Katiousha entered the room, or even when Nekhludoff saw her +white apron from afar, everything became immediately as if lit by the +sun; everything became more interesting, more cheerful, more +important; life became more joyful. She experienced the same feeling. +But not alone the presence and proximity of Katiousha had such effect +upon Nekhludoff; the very thought of her existence had the same power +upon him as that of his had upon her. Whether he received an +unpleasant letter from his mother, or was backward in his composition, +or felt the ceaseless sadness of youth, it would suffice for him to +see her and his spirit resumed its wonted good cheer. + +Katiousha had to do all the housework, but she managed to do her duty +and found spare time for reading. He gave her the works of Dostoievsky +and Tourgenieff to read. Those descriptive of the beauties of nature +she liked best. Their conversations were but momentary, when they met +in the corridor, on the veranda, in the court-yard, or in the room of +the aunts' old servant, Matriena Pavlovna, with whom Katiousha roomed, +or in the servants' chamber, whither Nekhludoff sometimes went to +drink tea. And these conversations in the presence of Matriena +Pavlovna were the pleasantest. When they were alone their conversation +flagged. Then the eyes would speak something different, more +important, than the mouth; the lips were drawn up, they felt +uncomfortable, and quickly parted. + +These relations continued during the time of his first visit to his +aunts. The aunts noticed them, were dismayed, and immediately wrote to +the Princess Elena Ivanovna, Nekhludoff's mother. But their anxiety +was unfounded; Nekhludoff, without knowing it, loved Katiousha, as +innocent people love, and this very love was the principal safeguard +against either his or her fall. Not only did he not desire to possess +her physically, but the very thought of such relation horrified him. +There was more reason in the poetical Sophia Ivanovna's fear that +Nekhludoff's having fallen in love with a girl, might take a notion to +marry her without regard to her birth or station. + +If Nekhludoff were clearly conscious of his love for Katiousha; +especially if it were sought to persuade him that he could and must +not link his fate to that of the girl, he would very likely have +decided in his plumb-line mind that there was no reason why he should +not marry her, no matter who she was, provided he loved her. But the +aunts did not speak of their fears, and he departed without knowing +that he was enamored of Katiousha. + +He was certain that his feeling toward Katiousha was but a +manifestation of that joy which pervaded his entire being, and which +was shared by that lovely, cheerful girl. However, when he was taking +leave, and Katiousha, standing on the veranda with the aunts, followed +him with her black, tearful and somewhat squinting eyes, he felt that +he was leaving behind him something beautiful, precious, which would +never recur. And he became very sad. + +"Good-by, Katiousha. I thank you for everything," he said, over the +cap of Sophia Ivanovna, and seated himself in the cabriolet. + +"Good-by, Dmitri Ivanovich," she said, in her pleasant, caressing +voice, and holding back the tears which filled her eyes, ran into her +room, where she could cry freely. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +For three years afterward Nekhludoff did not see Katiousha. But when, +as staff-officer, he was on his way to his army post, he paid a short +visit to his aunts, but an entirely different man. Three years ago he +was an honest, self-denying youth, ready to devote himself to every +good cause; now he was a corrupt and refined egotist, given over to +personal enjoyment. Then, the world appeared to him as a mystery which +he joyfully and enthusiastically tried to solve; now, everything in +this world was plain and simple, and was determined by those +conditions of life in which he found himself. Then, it was necessary +and important to hold communion with nature and with those people who +lived, thought and felt before him (philosophers, poets); now, human +institutions were the only things necessary and important, and +communion he held with his comrades. Woman, then, appeared to him a +mysterious and charming creature; now, he looked on woman, on every +woman, except nearest relations and wives of friends, as a means of +gratifying now tried pleasures. Then, he needed no money, and wanted +not a third part what his mother gave him, disclaimed title to his +father's land, distributing it among the peasants; now, the fifteen +hundred rubles' monthly allowance he received from his mother did not +suffice for his needs, and he often made it the cause of unpleasant +conversation with her. His true self he then considered his spiritual +being; now, his healthy, vigorous, animal self was his true ego. + +And all this terrible transformation took place in him only because he +ceased to have faith in himself, and began to believe in others. To +live according to the faith that was in him was burdensome; every +question would have to be decided almost always against his animal +ego, which was seeking light pleasures; but reposing his faith in +others, there remained nothing to decide, everything having been +decided, and decided always against the spiritual and in favor of the +animal ego. Besides, following his inner faith, he was always subject +to the censure of people; in the other case he received the approval +of the people that surrounded him. + +Thus, when Nekhludoff was thinking, reading, speaking of God, of +truth, of wealth, of poverty, everybody considered it out of place and +somewhat queer, while his mother and aunt, with good-natured irony, +called him notre cher philosophe. When, however, he was reading +novels, relating indecent anecdotes or seeing droll vaudevilles in the +French theatre, and afterward merrily repeated them, everybody praised +and encouraged him. When he considered it necessary to curtail his +needs, wore an old coat and gave up wine-drinking, everybody +considered it eccentric and vain originality; but when he spent large +sums in organizing a chase, or building an unusual, luxurious cabinet, +everybody praised his taste and sent him valuable gifts. When he was +chaste, and wished to preserve his chastity till marriage, his +relatives were anxious about his health, and his mother, so far from +being mortified, rather rejoiced when she learned that he had become a +real man, and had enticed the French mistress of some friend of his. +As to the Katiousha episode--that the thought might occur to him of +marrying her, she could not even think of without horror. + +Similarly, when Nekhludoff, on reaching his majority, distributed the +estate he inherited from his father among the peasants, because he +considered the ownership of land unjust, this act of his horrified his +mother and relatives, who constantly reproached and ridiculed him for +it. He was told unceasingly that so far from enriching it only +impoverished the peasants, who opened three liquor stores and stopped +working entirely. When, however, Nekhludoff joined the Guards, and +spent and gambled away so much money that Elena Ivanovna had to draw +from her capital, she scarcely grieved, considering it quite natural +and even beneficial to be thus inoculated when young and in good +society. + +Nekhludoff at first struggled, but the struggle was very hard, for +whatever he did, following the faith that was in him, was considered +wrong by others, and, contrariwise, whatever he considered wrong was +approved of by his relatives. The result was that Nekhludoff ceased to +have faith in himself and began to follow others. At first this +renunciation of self was unpleasant, but it was short lived, and +Nekhludoff, who now began to smoke and drink wine, soon ceased to +experience this unpleasant feeling, and was even greatly relieved. + +Passionate by nature, Nekhludoff gave himself up entirely to this new +life, approved of by all those that surrounded him, and completely +stifled in himself that voice which demanded something different. It +commenced with his removal to St. Petersburg, and ended with his entry +upon active service. + +During this period of his life Nekhludoff felt the ecstasy of freedom +from all those moral impediments which he had formerly placed before +himself, and continued in a chronic condition of insane egotism. + +He was in this condition when, three years afterward, he visited his +aunts. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +Nekhludoff called at his aunts because their manor lay on the road +through which his regiment had preceded him, and also because they +requested him to do so, but principally in order that he might see +Katiousha. It may be that in the depth of his soul there was already a +mischievous intention toward Katiousha, prompted by his now unbridled +animal ego, but he was not aware of it, he merely desired to visit +those places in which he lived so happily, and see his somewhat queer, +but amiable and good-natured, aunts, who always surrounded the +atmosphere around him with love and admiration, and also to see the +lovely Katiousha, of whom he had such pleasant recollections. + +He arrived toward the end of March, on Good Friday, in the season of +bad roads, when the rain was falling in torrents, and was wet all +through, and chilled to the marrow of his bones, but courageous and +excited, as he always felt at that time of the year. + +"I wonder if she is still there?" he thought, as he drove into the +familiar court-yard of the old manor, which was covered with snow that +fell from the roofs, and was surrounded by a low brick wall. He +expected that the ringing of the bell would bring her running to meet +him, but on the perron of the servants' quarters appeared two +bare-footed women with tucked-up skirts, carrying buckets, who were +apparently scrubbing floors. She was not on the front perron, either; +only Timon, the lackey, came forth in an apron, also apparently +occupied with cleaning. Sophia Ivanovna came into the ante-chamber, +attired in a silk dress and cap. + +"How glad I am that you came!" said Sophia Ivanovna. "Masheuka[B] is +somewhat ill. We were to church, receiving the sacrament. She is very +tired." + +"I congratulate you, Aunt Sonia,"[C] said Nekhludoff, kissing the hand +of Sophia Ivanovna. "Pardon me, I have soiled you." + +"Go to your room. You are wet all through. Oh, what a mustache! +Katiousha! Katiousha! Bring him some coffee quickly." + +"All right!" responded a familiar, pleasant voice. Nekhludoff's heart +fluttered. "She is here!" To him it was like the sun rising from +behind the clouds, and he cheerfully went with Timon to his old room +to change his clothing. + +Nekhludoff wished to ask Timon about Katiousha. Was she well? How did +she fare? Was she not engaged to be married? But Timon was so +respectful, and at the same time so rigid; he so strictly insisted on +himself pouring the water from the pitcher over Nekhludoff's hands, +that the latter could not decide to ask him about Katiousha, and only +inquired about his grand-children, about the old stallion, about the +watch-dog Polkan. They were all well, except Polkan, who had gone mad +the previous year. + +After he had thrown off his wet clothes, and as he was about to dress +himself, Nekhludoff heard quick steps and a rapping at the door. He +recognized both the steps and the rapping. Only _she_ walked and +rapped thus. + +It was Katiousha--the same Katiousha--only more lovely than before. +The naive, smiling, somewhat squinting black eyes still looked up; she +wore a clean white apron, as before. She brought a perfumed piece of +soap, just taken from the wrapper, and two towels--one Russian and the +other Turkish. The freshly unpacked soap, the towels and she herself, +were all equally clean, fresh, pure and pleasant. The lovely, firm, +red lips became creased from unrestrainable happiness at sight of him. + +"How do you do, Dmitri Ivanovich?" she said, with difficulty, her face +becoming flushed. + +"How art--how are you?" He did not know whether to "thou" her or not, +and became as red in the face as she was.[D] "Are you well?" + +"Very well. Your aunt sent you your favorite soap, rose-scented," she +said, placing the soap on the table, and the towels on the arms of the +chair. + +"The gentleman has his own," Timon stood up for the independence of +the guest, proudly pointing to the open traveling bag with silver +lids, containing a large number of bottles, brushes, perfumes and all +sorts of toilet articles. + +"My thanks to auntie. But how glad I am that I came," said Nekhludoff, +feeling the old brightness and emotions recurring to his soul. + +In answer to this she only smiled and left the room. + +The aunts, who always loved Nekhludoff, received him this time with +greater joy than usual. Dmitri was going to active service, where he +might be wounded or killed. This affected the aunts. + +Nekhludoff had arranged his trip so that he might spend twenty-four +hours with his aunts, but, seeing Katiousha, decided to remain over +Easter Sunday, which was two days later, and wired to his friend and +commander Shenbok, whom he was to meet at Odessa, to come to his +aunts. + +From the very first day Nekhludoff experienced the old feeling toward +Katiousha. Again he could not see without agitation the white apron of +Katiousha; he could not listen without joy to her steps, her voice, +her laugh; he could not, without emotion, look into her black eyes, +especially when she smiled; he could not, above all, see, without +confusion, how she blushed when they met. He felt that he was in love, +but not as formerly, when this love was to him a mystery, and he had +not the courage to confess it to himself; when he was convinced that +one can love only once. Now he loved knowingly, rejoiced at it, and +confusedly knowing, though he concealed it from himself, what it +consisted of, and what might come of it. + +In Nekhludoff, as in all people, there were two beings; one spiritual, +who sought only such happiness for himself as also benefited others; +and the animal being, seeking his own happiness for the sake of which +he is willing to sacrifice that of the world. During this period of +his insane egotism, called forth by the life in the army and in St. +Petersburg, the animal man dominated him and completely suppressed the +spiritual man. But, seeing Katiousha, and being again imbued with the +feelings he formerly experienced toward her, the spiritual man raised +his head and began to assert his rights. And during the two days +preceding Easter an incessant struggle was going on within Nekhludoff +of which he was quite unconscious. + +In the depth of his soul he knew that he had to depart; that his stay +at his aunts was unnecessary, that nothing good could come of it, but +it was so joyous and pleasant that he did not heed it, and remained. + +On the eve of Easter Sunday, the priest and deacon who, as they +afterward related, with difficulty covered the three miles from the +church to the aunts' manor, arrived on a sleigh to perform the morning +services. + +Nekhludoff, with his aunts and the servants, went through the motions, +without ceasing to look on Katiousha, who brought a censer and was +standing at the door; then, in the customary fashion, kissed the +priest and the aunts, and was about to retire to his room when he +heard Matriena Pavlovna, the old servant of Maria Ivanovna, making +preparations with Katiousha to go to church and witness the +consecration of the paschal bread. "I will go there, too," he thought. + +There was no wagon or sleigh road to the church, so Nekhludoff gave +command, as he would in his own house, to have a horse saddled, and, +instead of going to bed, donned a brilliant uniform and tight +knee-breeches, threw on his military coat, and, mounting the snorting +and constantly neighing, heavy stallion, he drove off to the church in +the dark, over pools and snow mounds. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote B: Diminutive of Maria.] + +[Footnote C: Diminutive of Sophia.] + +[Footnote D: The Russian thou cannot be rendered into English with any +degree of accuracy. The greeting to which the impulsive Nekhludoff was +about to give expression is that used toward a beloved person.] + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +That morning service formed the brightest and most impressive +reminiscence of Nekhludoff's after life. + +The darkness of the night was only relieved here and there by white +patches of snow, and as the stallion, splashing through the mud-pools, +and his ears pricked up at the sight of the fire-pots surrounding the +church, entered its inclosure, the service had already begun. + +The peasants, recognizing Maria Ivanovna's nephew, led his horse to +the driest spot, where he dismounted, then they escorted him to the +church filled with a holiday crowd. + +To the right were the male peasants; old men in homespun coats and +bast shoes, and young men in new cloth caftans, bright-colored belts +and boots. To the left the women, with red silk 'kerchiefs on their +heads, shag caftans with bright red sleeves, and blue, green, red, +striped and dotted skirts and iron-heeled shoes. Behind them stood the +more modest women in white 'kerchiefs and gray caftans and ancient +skirts, in shoes or bast slippers. Among these and the others were +dressed-up children with oiled hair. The peasants made the sign of the +cross and bowed, disheveling their hair; the women, especially the old +women, gazing with their lustreless eyes on one image, before which +candles burned, pressed hard with the tips of their fingers on the +'kerchief of the forehead, the shoulders and the abdomen, and, +mumbling something, bent forward standing, or fell on their knees. The +children, imitating their elders, prayed fervently when they were +looked at. The gold iconostasis was aflame with innumerable candles, +which surrounded a large one in the centre wound in a narrow strip of +gilt paper. The church lustre was dotted with candles, joyful melodies +of volunteer singers with roaring bass and piercing contralto mingled +with the chant of the choir. + +Nekhludoff went forward. In the middle of the church stood the +aristocracy; a country squire with his wife and son in a sailor +blouse, the commissary of the rural police, a telegraph operator, a +merchant in high boots, the local syndic with a medal on his breast, +and to the right of the tribune, behind the squire's wife, Matriena +Pavlovna, in a lilac-colored chatoyant dress and white shawl with +colored border, and beside her was Katiousha in a white dress, +gathered in folds at the waist, a blue belt, and a red bow in her +black hair. + +Everything was solemn, joyous and beautiful; the priest in his bright, +silver chasuble, dotted with gilt crosses, the deacon, the chanters in +holiday surplice of gold and silver, the spruce volunteer singers with +oiled hair, the joyous melodies of holiday songs, the ceaseless +blessing of the throng by the priests with flower-bedecked tern +candles with the constantly repeated exclamations: "Christ has risen! +Christ has risen!" Everything was beautiful, but more beautiful than +all was Katiousha, in her white dress, blue belt and red bow in her +hair, and her eyes radiant with delight. + +Nekhludoff felt that she saw him without turning round. He saw it +while passing near her to the altar. He had nothing to tell her, but +tried to think of something, and said, when passing her: + +"Auntie said that she would receive the sacrament after mass." + +Her young blood, as it always happened when she looked at him, rose to +her cheeks, and her black eyes, naively looking up, fixed themselves +on Nekhludoff. + +"I know it," she said, smiling. + +At that moment a chanter with a copper coffee-pot in his hand passed +close to Katiousha, and, without looking at her, grazed her with the +skirt of the surplice. The chanter, evidently out of respect for +Nekhludoff, wished to sweep around him, and thus it happened that he +grazed Katiousha. + +Nekhludoff, however, was surprised that that chanter did not +understand that everything in the church, and in the whole world, for +that matter, existed only for Katiousha, and that one might spurn the +entire world, but must not slight her, because she was the centre of +it. It was for her that the gold iconostasis shone brightly, and these +candles in the church-lustre burned; for her were the joyful chants: +"Be happy, man; it is the Lord's Easter." All the good in the world +was for her. And it seemed to him that Katiousha understood that all +this was for her. It seemed to Nekhludoff, when he looked at her erect +figure in the white dress with little folds at the waist, and by the +expression of her happy face, that the very thing that filled his soul +with song, also filled hers. + +In the interval between early and late mass Nekhludoff left the +church. The people made way for him and bowed. Some recognized him; +others asked: "Who is he?" He stopped at the porch. Beggars surrounded +him, and, distributing such change as he had in his pocket, he +descended the stairs. + +The day began to break, but the sun was yet beyond the horizon. The +people seated themselves on the grass around the church-yard, but +Katiousha remained in the church, and Nekhludoff waited on the porch +for her appearance. + +The crowd was still pouring out of the church, their hob-nailed shoes +clattering against the stone pavement, and spread about the cemetery. + +An old man, confectioner to Maria Ivanovna, stopped Nekhludoff and +kissed him, and his wife, an old woman with a wrinkled Adam's apple +under a silk 'kerchief, unrolled a yellow saffron egg from her +handkerchief and gave it to him. At the same time a young, smiling and +muscular peasant, in a new caftan, approached. + +"Christ has risen!" he said, with smiling eyes and, nearing +Nekhludoff, spread around him a peculiar, pleasant, peasant odor, and, +tickling him with his curly beard, three times kissed him on the lips. + +While Nekhludoff was thus exchanging the customary kisses with the +peasant and taking from him a dark-brown egg, he noticed the chatoyant +dress of Matriena Pavlovna and the lovely head with the red bow. + +No sooner did she catch sight of him over the heads of those in front +of her, than her face brightened up. + +On reaching the porch they also stopped, distributing alms. One of the +beggars, with a red, cicatrized slough instead of a nose, approached +Katiousha. She produced some coins from her handkerchief, gave them to +him, and without the slightest expression of disgust, but, on the +contrary, her eyes beaming with delight, kissed him three times. While +she was thus kissing with the beggar, her eyes met those of +Nekhludoff, and she seemed to ask him: "Is it not right? Is it not +proper?" + +"Yes, yes, darling; it is right; everything is beautiful. I love you." + +As they descended the stairs he came near her. He did not wish to kiss +her, but merely wished to be by her side. + +"Christ has risen!" said Matriena Pavlovna, leaning her head forward +and smiling. By the intonation of her voice she seemed to say, "All +are equal to-day," and wiping her mouth with a bandana handkerchief +which she kept under her arm-pit, she extended her lips. + +"He has risen, indeed," answered Nekhludoff, and they kissed each +other. + +He turned to look at Katiousha. She flushed and at the same moment +approached him. + +"Christ has risen, Dmitri Ivanovich." + +"He has risen, indeed," he said. They kissed each other twice, and +seemed to be reflecting whether or not it was necessary to kiss a +third time, and having decided, as it were, that it was necessary, +they kissed again. + +"Will you go to the priest?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"No, we will stay here, Dmitri Ivanovich," answered Katiousha, +laboriously, as though after hard, pleasant exertion, breathing with +her full breast and looking straight in his eyes, with her submissive, +chaste, loving and slightly squinting eyes. + +There is a point in the love between man and woman when that love +reaches its zenith; when it is free from consciousness, reason and +sensuality. Such a moment arrived for Nekhludoff that Easter morn. + +Now, whenever he thought of Katiousha, her appearance at that moment +obscured every other recollection of her. The dark, smooth, +resplendent head; the white dress with folds clinging to her graceful +bust and undulating breast; those vermilion cheeks, those brilliant +black eyes, and two main traits in all her being: the virgin purity of +her love, not only for himself, but for everything and everybody--he +knew it--not only the good and beautiful, but even that beggar whom +she had kissed. + +He knew that she possessed that love, because that night and that +morning he felt it within him, and felt that in that love his soul +mingled into one with hers. + +Ah, if that feeling had continued unchanged! "Yes, that awful affair +occurred after that notable commemoration of Christ's resurrection!" +he thought now, sitting at the window of the jury-room. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +Returning from the church, Nekhludoff broke his fast with the aunts, +and to repair his strength, drank some brandy and wine--a habit he +acquired in the army--and going to his room immediately fell asleep +with his clothes on. He was awakened by a rap at the door. By the rap +he knew that it was she, so he rose, rubbing his eyes and stretching +himself. + +"Is it you, Katiousha? Come in," he said, rising. + +She opened the door. + +"You are wanted to breakfast," she said. She was in the same white +dress, but without the bow in her hair. + +As she looked in his eyes she brightened up, as if she had announced +something unusually pleasant. + +"I shall come immediately," he answered, taking a comb to rearrange +his hair. + +She lingered for a moment. He noticed it, and putting down the comb, +he moved toward her. But at the same moment she quickly turned and +walked off with her customary light and agile step along the narrow +mat of the corridor. + +"What a fool I am!" Nekhludoff said to himself. "Why did I not detain +her?" And he ran after her. + +He did not know himself what he wished of her, but it seemed to him +that when she entered his room he ought to have done something that +any one in his place would have done, but which he failed to do. + +"Wait, Katiousha," he said. + +She looked around. + +"What is it?" she said, stopping. + +"Nothing. I only----" + +With some effort he overcame his shyness, and remembering how people +generally act in such a case, he put his arm about Katiousha's waist. + +She stopped and looked in his eyes. + +"Don't, Ivanovich, don't," she said, blushing until her eyes filled +with tears. Then with her rough, strong hands she removed his arm. + +Nekhludoff released her, and for a moment felt not only awkward and +ashamed, but seemed odious to himself. He should have believed in +himself, but he failed to understand that this awkwardness and shame +were the noblest feelings of his soul begging for recognition, and, on +the contrary, it seemed to him that it was his foolishness that was +speaking within him, that he ought to have done as everybody does in a +similar case. + +He overtook her again, again embraced her and kissed her on the neck. +This kiss was entirely unlike the other two kisses. The first was +given unconsciously, behind the lilac bush; the second, in the morning +in church. The last one was terrible, and she felt it. + +"But what are you doing?" she exclaimed in such a voice, as if he had +irrecoverably destroyed something infinitely precious, and ran away +from him. + +He went to the dining-room. His aunts in holiday attire, the doctor +and a neighbor were taking lunch standing. Everything was as usual, +but a storm raged in Nekhludoff's soul. He did not understand what was +said to him, his answers were inappropriate, and he was thinking only +of Katiousha, recalling the sensation of the last kiss he gave her +when he overtook her in the corridor. He could think of nothing else. +When she entered the room, without looking at her, he felt her +presence with all his being, and had to make an effort not to look at +her. + +After lunch he went immediately to his room, and in great agitation +walked to and fro, listening to the sounds in the house and waiting to +hear her steps. The animal man that dwelled in him not only raised his +head, but crushed under foot the spiritual man that he was when he +first arrived at the manor, and was even this very morning in church, +and that terrible animal man now held sway in his soul. Although +Nekhludoff was watching an opportunity to meet Katiousha that day, he +did not succeed in seeing her face to face even once. She was probably +avoiding him. But in the evening it happened that she had to enter a +room adjoining his. The physician was to remain over night, and +Katiousha had to make the bed for him. Hearing her steps, Nekhludoff, +stepping on tip-toe and holding his breath, as though preparing to +commit a crime, followed her into the room. + +Thrusting both her hands into a white pillow-case, and taking hold of +two corners of the pillow, she turned her head and looked at him +smiling, but it was not the old, cheerful, happy smile, but a +frightened, piteous smile. The smile seemed to tell him that what he +was doing was wrong. For a moment he stood still. There was still the +possibility of a struggle. Though weak, the voice of his true love to +her was still heard; it spoke of her, of her feelings, of her life. +The other voice reminded him of his enjoyment, his happiness. And this +second voice stifled the first. He approached her with determination. +And the terrible, irresistible animal feeling mastered him. + +Without releasing her from his embrace, Nekhludoff seated her on the +bed, and feeling that something else ought to be done, seated himself +beside her. + +"Dmitri Ivanovich, darling, please let me go," she said in a piteous +voice. "Matriena Pavlovna is coming!" she suddenly exclaimed, tearing +herself away. + +Matriena Pavlovna was really approaching the door. She entered the +room, holding a quilt on her arm, and, looking reproachfully at +Nekhludoff, angrily rebuked Katiousha for taking the wrong quilt. + +Nekhludoff went out in silence. He was not even ashamed. By the +expression of Matriena Pavlovna's face he saw that she condemned him, +and justly so; he knew that what he was doing was wrong, but the +animal feeling, which succeeded his former feeling of pure love to +her, seized him and held sole sway over him; recognizing no other +feeling. He knew now what was necessary to do in order to satisfy that +feeling, and was looking for means to that end. + +He was out of sorts all that night. Now he would go to his aunts; now +he returned to his room, or went to the perron, thinking but of one +thing: how to meet her alone. But she avoided him, and Matriena +Pavlovna strove not to lose sight of her. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Thus the entire evening passed, and when night came the doctor went to +bed. The aunts were also preparing to retire. Nekhludoff knew that +Matriena Pavlovna was in the aunts' dormitory, and that Katiousha was +in the servants' quarters--alone. He again went out on the perron. It +was dark, damp and warm, and that white mist which in the spring thaws +the last snow, filled the air. Strange noises came from the river, +which was a hundred feet from the house. It was the breaking up of the +ice. + +Nekhludoff came down from the perron, and stepping over pools and the +thin ice-covering formed on the snow, walked toward the window of the +servants' quarters. His heart beat so violently that he could hear it; +his breathing at times stopped, at others it escaped in a heavy sigh. +A small lamp was burning in the maid-servants' room. + +Katiousha was sitting at the table alone, musing and looking at the +wall before her. Without moving Nekhludoff for some time stood gazing +at her, wishing to know what she would do while thinking herself +unobserved. For about two minutes she sat motionless, then raised her +eyes, smiled, reproachfully shook her head, at herself apparently, +and, changing her position, with a start placed both hands on the +table and fixed her eyes before her. + +He remained looking at her, and involuntarily listened to the beating +of his heart and the strange sounds coming from the river. There, on +the misty river some incessant, slow work was going on. Now something +snuffled, then it crackled, and again the thin layer of ice resounded +like a mass of crushed glass. + +He stood looking at the thoughtful face of Katiousha, tormented by an +internal struggle, and he pitied her. But, strange to say, this pity +only increased his longing for her. + +He rapped at the window. She trembled from head to foot, as if an +electric current had passed through her, and terror was reflected on +her face. Then she sprang up, and, going to the window, placed her +face against the window-pane. The expression of terror did not leave +her even when, shading her eyes with the palms of her hands, she +recognized him. Her face was unusually grave--he had never seen such +an expression on it. When he smiled she smiled also--she smiled as if +only in submission to him, but in her soul, instead of a smile, there +was terror. He motioned her with his hand to come out. But she shook +her head and remained at the window. Again he leaned toward the window +and was about to speak when she turned toward the door. Some one had +apparently called her. Nekhludoff moved away from the window. The fog +was so dense that when five feet away he saw only a darkening mass +from which a red, seemingly large, light of the lamp was reflected. +From the river came the same strange sounds of snuffling, crackling +and grinding of the ice. In the court-yard a cock crowed, others near +by responded; then from the village, first singly, interrupting each +other, then mingling into one chorus, was heard the crowing of all the +cocks. Except for the noise of the river, it was perfectly quiet all +around. + +After walking twice around the corner of the house, and stepping +several times into mud-pools, Nekhludoff returned to the window of the +maid-servants' quarters. The lamp was still burning, and Katiousha sat +alone at the table as if in indecision. As soon as he came near the +window she looked at him. He rapped. Without stopping to see who had +rapped, she immediately ran from the room, and he heard the opening +and closing of the door. He was already waiting for her in the +passage, and immediately silently embraced her. She pressed against +his bosom, lifted her head, and with her lips met his kiss. + + * * * * * + +When Nekhludoff returned to his room it was getting brighter. Below, +the noises on the river increased, and a buzzing was added to the +other sounds. The mist began to settle, and from behind the wall of +mist the waning moon appeared, gloomily, lighting up something dark +and terrible. + +"Is it good fortune or a great misfortune that has happened to me?" he +asked himself. "It is always thus; they all act in that way," and he +returned to his room. + +[Illustration: PRINCE NEKHLUDOFF.] + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +On the following day the brilliant and jovial Shenbok called at the +aunts for Nekhludoff, and completely charmed them with his elegance, +amiability, cheerfulness, liberality, and his love for Dmitri. Though +his liberality pleased the aunts, they were somewhat perplexed by the +excess to which he carried it. He gave a ruble to a blind beggar; the +servants received as tips fifteen rubles, and when Sophia Ivanovna's +lap-dog, Suzette, hurt her leg so that it bled, he volunteered to +bandage it, and without a moment's consideration tore his fine linen +handkerchief (Sophia Ivanovna knew that those handkerchiefs were worth +fifteen rubles a dozen) and made bandages of it for the dog. The aunts +had never seen such men, nor did they know that his debts ran up to +two hundred thousand rubles, which--he knew--would never be paid, and +that therefore twenty-five rubles more or less made no appreciable +difference in his accounts. + +Shenbok remained but one day, and the following evening departed with +Nekhludoff. They could remain no longer, for the time for joining +their regiment had arrived. + +On this last day spent at the aunts, when the events of the preceding +evening were fresh in his memory, two antagonistic feelings struggled +in Nekhludoff's soul; one was the burning, sensual recollection of +love, although it failed to fulfill its promises, and some +satisfaction of having gained his ends; the other, a consciousness of +having committed a wrong, and that that wrong must be righted--not for +her sake, but for his own sake. + +In that condition of insane egotism Nekhludoff thought only of +himself--whether he would be condemned, and how far, if his act should +be discovered, but never gave a thought to the question, "How does she +feel about it, and what will become of her?" + +He thought that Shenbok divined his relations to Katiousha, and his +ambition was flattered. + +"That's why you so suddenly began to like your aunts," Shenbok said +to him when he saw Katiousha. "In your place I should stay here even +longer. She is charming!" + +He also thought that while it was a pity to leave now, without +enjoying his love in its fullness, the necessity of going was +advantageous in that he was able to break the relations which it were +difficult to keep up. He further thought it was necessary to give her +money, not because she might need it, but because it was customary to +do so. So he gave as much money as he thought was proper, considering +their respective positions. + +On the day of his departure, after dinner he waited in the passage +until she came by. She flushed as she saw him, and wished to pass on, +pointing with her eyes to the door of her room, but he detained her. + +"I came to bid you farewell," he said, crumpling an envelope +containing a hundred ruble bill. "How is----" + +She suspected it, frowned, shook her head and thrust aside his hand. + +"Yes, take it," he murmured, thrusting the envelope in the bosom of +her waist, and, as if it had burned his fingers, he ran to his room. + +For a long time he paced his room to and fro, frowning, and even +jumping, and moaning aloud as if from physical pain, as he thought of +the scene. + +But what is to be done? It is always thus. Thus it was with Shenbok +and the governess whom he had told about; it was thus with Uncle +Gregory; with his father, when he lived in the country, and the +illegitimate son Miteuka, who is still living, was born to him. And if +everybody acts thus, consequently it ought to be so. Thus he was +consoling himself, but he could not be consoled. The recollection of +it stung his conscience. + +In the depth of his soul he knew that his action was so base, +abominable and cruel that, with that action upon his conscience, not +only would he have no right to condemn others but he should not be +able to look others in the face, to say nothing of considering himself +the good, noble, magnanimous man he esteemed himself. And he had to +esteem himself as such in order to be able to continue to lead a +valiant and joyous life. And there was but one way of doing so, and +that was not to think of it. This he endeavored to do. + +The life into which he had just entered--new scenes, comrades, and +active service--helped him on. The more he lived, the less he thought +of it, and in the end really forgot it entirely. + +Only once, on his return from active service, when, in the hope of +seeing her, he paid a visit to his aunts, he was told that Katiousha, +soon after his departure, had left them; that she had given birth to a +child, and, as the aunts were informed, had gone to the bad. As he +heard it his heart was oppressed with grief. From the statement of the +time when she gave birth to the child it might be his, and it might +not be his. The aunts said that she was vicious and of a depraved +nature, just like her mother. And this opinion of the aunts pleased +him, because it exculpated him, as it were. At first he intended to +find her and the child, but as it pained him very much, and he was +ashamed to think of it, he did not make the necessary efforts, and +gradually ceased to think of his sin. + +But now, this fortuitous meeting brought everything to his mind, and +compelled the acknowledgment of his heartlessness, cruelty and +baseness which made it possible for him to live undisturbed by the sin +which lay on his conscience. He was yet far from such acknowledgment, +and at this moment was only thinking how to avoid disclosure which +might be made by her, or her attorney, and thus disgrace him before +everybody. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +Nekhludoff was in this state of mind when he left the court-room and +entered the jury-room. He sat near the window, listening to the +conversations of his fellow jurymen, and smoked incessantly. + +The cheerful merchant evidently sympathized with Merchant Smelkoff's +manner of passing his time. + +"Well, well! He went on his spree just like a Siberian! Seems to have +known a good thing when he saw it. What a beauty!" + +The foreman expressed the opinion that the whole case depended on the +expert evidence. Peter Gerasimovich was jesting with the Jewish clerk, +and both of them burst out laughing. Nekhludoff answered all questions +in monosyllables, and only wished to be left in peace. + +When the usher with the sidling gait called the jury into court +Nekhludoff was seized with fear, as if judgment was to be passed on +him, and not he to pass judgment on others. + +In the depth of his soul he already felt that he was a rascal, who +ought to be ashamed to look people in the face, and yet, by force of +habit, he walked to the elevation with his customary air of +self-confidence, and took his seat next to the foreman, crossed his +legs and began to play with his pince-nez. + +The prisoners, who had also been removed from the court, were brought +in again. + +The new faces of witnesses were now seen in the court-room, and +Nekhludoff noticed Maslova constantly turning her head in the +direction of a smartly attired, stout woman in silk and plush, with an +elegant reticule hanging on her half-bare arm. This was, as Nekhludoff +afterward learned, Maslova's mistress and a witness against her. + +The examination of the witnesses began as to their names, age, +religion, et cetera. After being questioned as to whether they +preferred to testify under oath, the same old priest, with difficulty +moving his legs, came, and again arranging the gold cross on his +silk-covered breast, with the same calmness and confidence, began to +administer the oath to the witnesses and the expert. When the swearing +in was over, the witnesses were removed to an adjoining room, leaving +only Kitaeva, Maslova's mistress. She was asked what she knew of the +affair. Kitaeva, with a feigned smile, a German accent, and +straightening her hat at every sentence, fluently and circumstantially +related the following: + +Simon came first to her house for Liubasha.[E] In a little while +Liubasha returned with the merchant. "The merchant was already in +ecstasy," slightly smiling, said Kitaeva, "and he continued to drink +and treat himself, but as he was short of money he sent to his room +this same Liubasha, for whom he acquired a predilection," she said, +looking at Maslova. + +It seemed to Nekhludoff that Maslova smiled at this, and the smile +seemed to him disgusting. A strange feeling of squeamishness mingled +with compassion rose in his breast. + +"What opinion did you entertain of Maslova?" timidly and blushingly +asked the attorney assigned by the court to defend Maslova. + +"Very excellent," answered Kitaeva. "The girl is very well educated +and elegant in her manners. She was raised in a very good family, and +could read French. She sometimes drank a little too much, but she +never forgot herself. She is a very good girl." + +Katiousha looked at her mistress, then suddenly turned her eyes on the +jury and rested them on Nekhludoff, her face becoming serious and even +stern. One of the stern eyes squinted. These strangely gazing eyes +were turned on Nekhludoff for a considerable time. Notwithstanding the +terror that seized him, he could not remove his own gaze from those +squinting eyes with their shining whites. He recalled that awful night +with the breaking ice, the fog, and especially that waning, upturned +moon which rose in the morning and lit up something dark and terrible. +These two black eyes which looked at and at the same time by him +reminded him of something dark and terrible. + +"She recognized me!" he thought. And Nekhludoff shrank, as it were, +waiting for the blow. But she did not recognize him. She sighed calmly +and again fixed her eyes on the justiciary. Nekhludoff also sighed. +"Ah, if they would only hasten it through," he thought. He felt now as +he did once when out game shooting, when he was obliged to kill a +wounded bird--he was filled with disgust, pity and vexation. The +wounded bird is struggling in the game bag; he feels disgust and pity, +and wishes to kill it quickly and forget it. + +Such mingled feelings filled Nekhludoff's breast as he sat listening +to the examination of the witnesses. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote E: A contemptuous diminutive of Liuba. Tr.] + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +As if to spite him, the case dragged out to a weary length. After the +examination of the witnesses and the expert, and after all the +unnecessary questions by the prosecutor and the attorneys, usually +made with an important air, the justiciary told the jury to look at +the exhibits, which consisted of an enormous ring with a diamond +rosette, evidently made for the forefinger, and a glass tube +containing the poison. These were sealed and labeled. + +The jury were preparing to view these things, when the prosecutor rose +again and demanded that before the exhibits were examined the medical +report of the condition of the body be read. + +The justiciary was hurrying the case, and though he knew that the +reading of the report would only bring ennui and delay the dinner, and +that the prosecutor demanded it only because he had the right to do +so, he could not refuse the request and gave his consent. The +secretary produced the report, and, lisping the letters l and r, began +to read in a sad voice. + +The external examination disclosed: + +1. The height of Therapout Smelkoff was six feet five inches. + +"But what a huge fellow," the merchant whispered in Nekhludoff's ear +with solicitude. + +2. From external appearances he seemed to be about forty years of age. + +3. The body had a swollen appearance. + +4. The color of the pall was green, streaked with dark spots. + +5. The skin on the surface of the body rose in bubbles of various +sizes, and in places hung in patches. + +6. The hair was dark and thick, and fell off at a slight touch. + +7. The eyes came out of their orbits, and the pupils were dull. + +8. A frothy, serous fluid flowed continuously from the cavity of the +mouth, the nostrils and ears. The mouth was half open. + +9. The neck almost disappeared in the swelling of the face and breast, +et cetera, et cetera. + +Thus, over four pages and twenty-seven clauses, ran the description of +the external appearance of the terrible, large, stout, swollen and +decomposing body of the merchant who amused himself in the city. The +loathing which Nekhludoff felt increased with the reading of the +description. Katiousha's life, the sanies running from the nostrils, +the eyes that came out of their sockets, and his conduct toward +her--all seemed to him to belong to the same order, and he was +surrounded and swallowed up by these things. When the reading was +finally over, the justiciary sighed deeply and raised his head in the +hope that it was all over, but the secretary immediately began to read +the report on the internal condition of the body. + +The justiciary again bent his head, and, leaning on his hand, closed +his eyes. The merchant, who sat near Nekhludoff, barely kept awake, +and from time to time swayed his body. The prisoners as well as the +gendarmes behind them sat motionless. + +The internal examination disclosed: + +1. The skin covering of the skull easily detached, and no hemorrhage +was noticeable. 2. The skull bones were of average thickness and +uninjured. 3. On the hard membrane of the skull there were two small +discolored spots of about the size of four centimetres, the membrane +itself being of a dull gray color, et cetera, et cetera, to the end of +thirteen more clauses. + +Then came the names of the witnesses, the signature and deduction of +the physician, from which it appeared that the changes found in the +stomach, intestines and kidneys justified the conclusion "to a large +degree probable" that the death of Smelkoff was due to poison taken +into the stomach with a quantity of wine. That it was impossible to +tell by the changes in the stomach and intestines the name of the +poison; and that the poison came into the stomach mixed with wine +could be inferred from the fact that Smelkoff's stomach contained a +large quantity of wine. + +"He must have drank like a fish," again whispered the awakened +merchant. + +The reading of this official report, which lasted about two hours, did +not satisfy, however, the prosecutor. When it was over the justiciary +turned to him, saying: + +"I suppose it is superfluous to read the record of the examination of +the intestines." + +"I would ask that it be read," sternly said the prosecutor without +looking at the justiciary, sidewise raising himself, and impressing by +the tone of his voice that it was his right to demand it, that he +would insist on it, and that a refusal would be ground for appeal. + +The associate with the long beard and kind, drooping eyes, who was +suffering from catarrh, feeling very weak, turned to the justiciary: + +"What is the good of reading it? It will only drag the matter out. +These new brooms only take a longer time to sweep, but do not sweep +any cleaner." + +The associate in the gold eye-glasses said nothing, and gloomily and +determinedly looked in front of him, expecting nothing good either +from his wife or from the world. + +The report commenced thus: "February 15th, 188-. The undersigned, in +pursuance of an order, No. 638, of the Medical Department," began the +secretary with resolution, raising the pitch of his voice, as if to +dispel the drowsiness that seized upon every one present, "and in the +presence of the assistant medical director, examined the following +intestines: + +"1. The right lung and heart (contained in a five-pound glass vial). + +"2. The contents of the stomach (contained in a five-pound glass +vial). + +"3. The stomach itself (contained in a five-pound glass vial). + +"4. The kidneys, liver and spleen (contained in a two-and-a-half-pound +glass vial). + +"5. The entrails (contained in a five-pound earthen jar)." + +As the reading of this report began the justiciary leaned over to one +of his associates and whispered something, then to the other, and, +receiving affirmative answers, interrupted the reading at this point. + +"The Court finds the reading of the report superfluous," he said. + +The secretary closed reading and gathered up his papers, while the +prosecutor angrily began to make notes. + +"The gentlemen of the jury may now view the exhibits," said the +justiciary. + +The foreman and some of the jury rose from their seats, and, holding +their hands in awkward positions, approached the table and looked in +turn on the ring, vials and jars. The merchant even tried the ring on +his finger. + +"What a finger he had," he said, returning to his seat. "It must have +been the size of a large cucumber," he added, evidently amused by the +giant figure of the merchant, as he imagined him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +When the examination of the exhibits was over, the justiciary +announced the investigation closed, and, desiring to end the session, +gave the word to the prosecutor, in the hope that as he, too, was +mortal, he might also wish to smoke or dine, and would have pity on +the others. But the prosecutor pitied neither himself nor them. When +the word was given him, he rose slowly, displaying his elegant figure, +and, placing both hands on the desk, and slightly bending his head, he +cast a glance around the court-room, his eyes avoiding the prisoners. + +"Gentlemen of the jury, the case which is now to be submitted to your +consideration," he began his speech, prepared while the indictment and +reports were being read, "is a characteristic crime, if I may so +express myself." + +The speech of a prosecuting attorney, according to his idea, had to be +invested with a social significance, according to the manner of those +lawyers who became famous. True, among his hearers were three women; a +seamstress, a cook and Simon's sister, also a driver, but that made +no difference. Those celebrities also began on a small scale. The +prosecutor made it a rule to view the situation from the eminence of +his position, i. e., to penetrate into the profound psychological +meaning of crime, and bare the ulcers of society. + +"Here is before you, gentlemen of the jury, a crime characteristic, if +I may so express myself, of the end of our century, bearing, as it +were, all the specific features of the first symptoms of +decomposition, to which those elements of our society, which are +exposed, as it were, to the more scorching rays of that process, are +subject." + +The prosecutor spoke at great length, endeavoring on the one hand to +remember all those wise sayings which he had prepared for the +occasion, and on the other, most important, hand, not to stop for a +moment, but to make his speech flow uninterruptedly for an hour and a +quarter. He stopped only once, for a long time swallowing his saliva, +but he immediately mastered himself and made up for the lost time by a +greater flow of eloquence. He spoke in a gentle, insinuating voice, +resting now on one foot, now on the other, and looking at the jury; +then changed to a calm, business tone, consulting his note-book, and +again he thundered accusations, turning now to the spectators, now to +the jury. But he never looked at the prisoners, all three of whom +stared at him. He incorporated into his speech all the latest ideas +then in vogue in the circle of his acquaintances, and what was then +and is now received as the last word of scientific wisdom. He spoke of +heredity, of innate criminality, of Lombroso, of Charcot, of +evolution, of the struggle for existence, of hypnotism, of hypnotic +suggestion, and of decadence. + +The merchant Smelkoff, according to the prosecutor, was a type of the +great, pure Russian, with his broad nature, who, in consequence of his +trusting nature and generosity, had become a victim of a gang of +corrupt people, into whose hands he had fallen. + +Simon Kartinkin was the atavistic production of serfdom, stupid, +without education, and even without religion. Euphemia was his +mistress, and a victim of heredity. All the symptoms of degenerate +life were in her. But the ruling spirit in this crime was Maslova, who +was the mouthpiece of the lowest phenomenon of decadence. "This +woman," said the prosecutor without looking at her, "received an +education--you have heard here the evidence of her mistress. Not only +can she read and write, but she can speak French. She is an orphan, +and probably bears the germs of criminality in her. She was raised in +an intelligent, noble family, and could make her living by honest +toil, but she leaves them, yields to her passions, and displays an +intelligence, and especially, as you have heard here, gentlemen of the +jury, an ability to exert influence on people by that mysterious, +lately discovered by science, especially by the school of Charcot, +power known by the name of hypnotic suggestion. By the aid of this +power she gets control over this hero--a kind, trustful, rich guest, +and uses his confidence first to rob him, and then to pitilessly +murder him." + +"But he is wandering away," said the justiciary, smiling and leaning +over to the stern associate. + +"What an awful blockhead!" said the stern associate. + +"Gentlemen of the jury!" the prosecutor continued meanwhile, +gracefully swaying his slim body. "The fate of these people is in your +hands, as is to some extent the fate of society, which is influenced +by your verdict. You must fathom the significance of this crime, the +danger to society that lurks in such pathological, as it were, +individuals as Maslova. You must guard it against infection; it is +your duty to guard the innocent, healthy elements of society against +contagion, if not destruction." + +And as if himself impressed with the importance of the verdict, and +evidently greatly delighted with his speech, the prosecutor took his +seat. + +The burden of his speech, if we eliminate the flights of eloquence, +was to the effect that Maslova, after gaining the merchant's +confidence, hypnotized him, and that, arriving at the inn with the key +to the merchant's trunk, she intended to steal the money herself, but, +being discovered by Simon and Euphemia, was obliged to divide with +them. That afterward, desiring to conceal the traces of her crime, +she returned with the merchant to the inn and administered poison to +him. + +When the prosecutor had finished his speech, a middle-aged man, in a +dress coat and wide semi-circle of starched shirt front, rose from the +lawyer's bench, and boldly began to deliver a speech in defense of +Kartinkin and Bochkova. He was a lawyer hired by them for three +hundred rubles. He declared them both innocent, and threw all the +blame on Maslova. + +He belittled the deposition of Maslova relating to the presence of +Bochkova and Kartinkin when she took the money, and insisted that, as +she had confessed to poisoning the merchant, her evidence could have +no weight. The twenty-five hundred rubles could have been earned by +two hard working and honest persons, who were receiving in tips three +to four rubles a day from guests. The merchant's money was stolen by +Maslova, who either gave it to some one for safe keeping, or lost it, +which was not unlikely, as she was not in a normal condition. The +poisoning was done by Maslova alone. + +For these reasons he asked the jury to acquit Kartinkin and Bochkova +of stealing the money; or, if they found them guilty of stealing he +asked for a verdict of theft, but without participation in the +poisoning, and without conspiracy. + +In conclusion, this lawyer made a thrust at the prosecuting attorney +by remarking that, although the splendid reasonings of the prosecutor +on heredity explain the scientific questions of heredity, they hardly +hold good in the case of Bochkova, since her parentage was unknown. + +The prosecutor, growling, began to make notes, and shrugged his +shoulders in contemptuous surprise. + +Next rose Maslova's lawyer, and timidly and falteringly began his +speech in her defense. Without denying that Maslova participated in +the theft, he insisted that she had no intention of poisoning +Smelkoff, but gave him the powder in order to make him sleep. When he +described Maslova's unfortunate life, telling how she had been drawn +into a life of vice by a man who went unpunished, while she was left +to bear the whole burden of her fall, he attempted to become eloquent, +but his excursion into the domain of psychology failed, so that +everybody felt awkward. When he began to mutter about man's cruelty +and woman's helplessness, the justiciary, desiring to help him, asked +him to confine himself to the facts of the case. + +After this lawyer had finished the prosecutor rose again and defended +his position on the question of heredity against the first lawyer, +stating that the fact that Bochkova's parentage was unknown did not +invalidate the truth of the theory of heredity; that the law of +heredity is so well established by science that not only can one +deduce the crime from heredity, but heredity from the crime. As to the +statement of the defense that Maslova was drawn into a vicious life by +an imaginary (he pronounced the word imaginary with particular +virulence) man, he could say that all facts rather pointed to her +being the seducer of many victims who were unfortunate enough to fall +into her hands. Saying which he sat down in triumph. + +The prisoners were then allowed to make any statements they wished in +their behalf. + +Euphemia Bochkova repeated her statement that she knew nothing, had +not taken part in anything, and persistently pointed at Maslova as the +only guilty person. Simon only repeated several times: + +"Do what you please with me, only it is all for nothing." + +Maslova was silent. When asked what she had to say in her defense, she +only lifted her eyes on the justiciary, looked around like a hunted +animal, and immediately lowering them began to sob aloud. + +"What is the matter?" asked the merchant of Nekhludoff, hearing a +strange sound escaping the latter's lips. It was a suppressed sob. + +Nekhludoff did not yet realize the significance of his present +position, and the scarcely suppressed sob and the tears that welled up +in his eyes he ascribed to the weakness of his nerves. He put on his +pince-nez to hide them, and, drawing a handkerchief from his pocket, +began to blow his nose. + +His fear of the disgrace that would fall upon him if everybody in the +court-room were to find out his conduct toward her stifled the +struggle that was going on within him. At this time fear outweighed +in him every other feeling. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +After the last words of the prisoners had been heard, and the lengthy +arguments over the form in which the questions were to be put to the +jury were over, the questions were finally agreed upon, and the +justiciary began to deliver his instructions to the jury. + +Although he was anxious to finish the case, he was so carried away +that when he started to speak he could not stop himself. He told the +jury at great length that if they found the prisoners guilty, they had +the right to return a verdict of guilty, and if they found them not +guilty, they had the right to return a verdict of not guilty. If, +however they found them guilty of one charge, and not guilty of the +other, they might bring in a verdict of guilty of the one and not +guilty of the other. He further explained to them that they must +exercise this power intelligently. He also intended to explain to them +that if they gave an affirmative answer to a question, they would +thereby affirm everything involved in the question, and that if they +did not desire to affirm everything involved in the question, they +must distinguish the part they affirmed from the part they +disaffirmed. But, seeing on the clock that it was five minutes of +three, he decided to pass over to a statement of the case. + +"The facts of this case are the following," he began, repeating +everything that had been stated over and over again by the defendants' +attorneys, the prosecutor and the witnesses. While the justiciary was +charging the jury his associates thoughtfully listened, and now and +then glanced at the clock. They thought that although his charge was +sound, i. e., as it should be, it was too long. Of the same opinion was +the prosecutor, as well as all those connected with the court, +including the spectators. The justiciary concluded his charge. + +It was thought he had finished. But the justiciary found it necessary +to add a few words concerning the importance of the power given to +the jury; that it should be used with care, and should not be abused; +that they had taken an oath; that they were the conscience of society, +and that the secrecy of the consultation room was sacred, etc., etc. + +From the moment the justiciary began to speak, Maslova kept her eyes +on him, as if she feared to miss a word, so that Nekhludoff was not +afraid to meet her gaze, and constantly looked at her. And before his +imagination arose that common phenomenon of the appearance of a long +absent, beloved face, which, after the first shock produced by the +external changes which have taken place during the long absence, +gradually becomes the same as it was many years ago--all the past +changes disappear, and before the spiritual eyes stands forth the main +expression of the peculiar spiritual individuality. This happened with +Nekhludoff. + +Yes, notwithstanding the prison garb, the bloated body and the high +breast; notwithstanding the distended lower part of the face, the +wrinkles on the forehead and the temples, and the swelling under the +eyes, it was undoubtedly that same Katiousha who on Easter Sunday +looked up to him, her beloved, with her enamored, smiling, happy, +lively eyes. + +"What a remarkable coincidence! That this case should be tried during +my term! That, without seeing her for ten years, I should meet her +here in the prisoner's dock! And what will be the end? Ah, I wish it +were over!" + +He would not yield to the feeling of repentance which spoke within +him. He considered it an incident which would soon pass away without +disturbing his life. He felt himself in the position of a puppy who +had misbehaved in his master's rooms, and whom his master, taking him +by the neck, thrust into the dirt he had made. The puppy squeals, +pulls back in his effort to escape the consequences of his deed, which +he wishes to forget, but the inexorable master holds him fast. Thus +Nekhludoff felt the foulness of his act, and he also felt the powerful +hand of the master, but did not yet understand the significance of his +act, did not recognize the master. He did not wish to believe that +what he saw before him was the result of his own deed. But the +inexorable, invisible hand held him fast, and he had a foreboding that +he should not escape. He summoned up his courage, crossed his legs, as +was his wont, and, negligently playing with his pince-nez, he sat with +an air of self-confidence on the second chair of the front row. +Meanwhile he already felt in the depth of his soul all the cruelty, +dastardliness and baseness not only of that act of his, but of his +whole idle, dissolute, cruel and wayward life. And the terrible veil, +which during these twelve years in such marvelous manner had hidden +from him that crime and all his subsequent life, already began to +stir, and now and then he caught a glimpse behind it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +The justiciary finally finished his speech and handed the list of +questions to the foreman. The jury rose from their seats, glad of an +opportunity to leave the court-room, and, not knowing what to do with +their hands, as if ashamed of something, they filed into the +consultation-room. As soon as the door closed behind them a gendarme, +with drawn sword resting on his shoulder, placed himself in front of +it. The judges rose and went out. The prisoners also were led away. + +On entering the consultation-room the jury immediately produced +cigarettes and began to smoke. The sense of their unnatural and false +position, of which they were to a greater or less degree cognizant, +while sitting in the court-room, passed away as soon as they entered +their room and lighted their cigarettes, and, with a feeling of +relief, they seated themselves and immediately started an animated +conversation. + +"The girl is not guilty, she was confused," said the kind-hearted +merchant. + +"That is what we are going to consider," retorted the foreman. "We +must not yield to our personal impressions." + +"The judge's summing up was good," said the colonel. + +"Do you call it good? It nearly sent me to sleep." + +"The important point is that the servants could not have known that +there was money in the room if Maslova had no understanding with +them," said the clerk with the Jewish face. + +"So you think that she stole it?" asked one of the jury. + +"I will never believe that," shouted the kind-hearted merchant. "It is +all the work of that red-eyed wench." + +"They are all alike," said the colonel. + +"But she said that she did not go into the room." + +"Do you believe her more than the other? I should never believe that +worthless woman." + +"That does not decide the question," said the clerk. + +"She had the key." + +"What if she had?" answered the merchant. + +"And the ring?" + +"She explained it," again shouted the merchant. "It is quite likely +that being drunk he struck her. Well, and then he was sorry, of +course. 'There, don't cry! Take this ring.' And what a big man! They +said he weighed about two hundred and fifty pounds, I believe." + +"That is not the point," interrupted Peter Gerasimovich. "The question +is, Was she the instigator, or were the servants?" + +"The servants could not have done it without her. She had the key." + +This incoherent conversation lasted for a long time. + +"Excuse me, gentlemen," said the foreman. "Let us sit down and +consider the matter. Take your seats," he added, seating himself in +the foreman's chair. + +"These girls are rogues," said the clerk, and to sustain his opinion +that Maslova was the chief culprit, he related how one of those girls +once stole a watch from a friend of his. + +As a case in point the colonel related the bolder theft of a silver +_samovar_. + +"Gentlemen, let us take up the questions," said the foreman, rapping +on the table with a pencil. + +They became silent. The questions submitted were: + +1. Is the peasant of the village of Barkoff, district of Krapivensk, +Simon Petroff Kartinkin, thirty-three years of age, guilty of having, +with the design of taking the life of Smelkoff and robbing him, +administered to him poison in a glass of brandy, which caused the +death of Smelkoff, and of afterward robbing him of twenty-five hundred +rubles and a diamond ring? + +2. Is the burgess Euphemia Ivanovna Bochkova, forty-seven years of +age, guilty of the crime mentioned in the first question? + +3. Is the burgess Katherine Michaelovna Maslova, twenty-seven years of +age, guilty of the crime mentioned in the first question? + +4. If the prisoner Euphemia Bochkova is not guilty of the crime set +forth in the first question, is she not guilty of secretly stealing, +while employed in the Hotel Mauritania, on the 17th day of January, +188-, twenty-five hundred rubles from the trunk of the merchant +Smelkoff, to which end she opened the trunk in the hotel with a key +brought and fitted by her? + +The foreman read the first question. + +"Well, gentlemen, what do you think?" + +This question was quickly answered. They all agreed to answer +"Guilty." The only one that dissented was an old laborer, whose answer +to all questions was "Not guilty." + +The foreman thought that he did not understand the questions and +proceeded to explain that from all the facts it was evident that +Kartinkin and Bochkova were guilty, but the laborer answered that he +did understand them, and that he thought that they ought to be +charitable. "We are not saints ourselves," he said, and did not change +his opinion. + +The second question, relating to Bochkova, after many arguments and +elucidations, was answered "Not guilty," because there was no clear +proof that she participated in the poisoning--a fact on which her +lawyer put much stress. + +The merchant, desiring to acquit Maslova, insisted that Bochkova was +the author of the conspiracy. Many of the jurymen agreed with him, but +the foreman, desiring to conform strictly to the law, said that there +was no foundation for the charge of poisoning against her. After a +lengthy argument the foreman's opinion triumphed. + +The fourth question, relating to Bochkova, was answered "Guilty," but +at the insistence of the laborer, she was recommended to the mercy of +the court. + +The third question called forth fierce argument. The foreman insisted +that she was guilty of both the poisoning and robbery; the merchant, +colonel, clerk and laborer opposed this view, while the others +hesitated, but the opinion of the foreman began to predominate, +principally because the jury were tired out, and they willingly joined +the side which promised to prevail the sooner, and consequently +release them quicker. + +From all that occurred at the trial and his knowledge of Maslova, +Nekhludoff was convinced that she was innocent, and at first was +confident that the other jurors would so find her, but when he saw +that because of the merchant's bungling defense of Maslova, evidently +prompted by his undisguised liking for her, and the foreman's +resistance which it caused, but chiefly because of the weariness of +the jury, there was likely to be a verdict of guilty, he wished to +make objection, but feared to speak in her favor lest his relations +toward her should be disclosed. At the same time he felt that he could +not let things go on without making his objections. He blushed and +grew pale in turn, and was about to speak, when Peter Gerasimovich, +heretofore silent, evidently exasperated by the authoritative manner +of the foreman, suddenly began to make the very objections Nekhludoff +intended to make. + +"Permit me to say a few words," he began. "You say that she stole the +money because she had the key; but the servants could have opened the +trunk with a false key after she was gone." + +"Of course, of course," the merchant came to his support. + +"She could not have taken the money because she would have nowhere to +hide it." + +"That is what I said," the merchant encouraged him. + +"It is more likely that her coming to the hotel for the money +suggested to the servants the idea of stealing it; that they stole it +and then threw it all upon her." + +Peter Gerasimovich spoke provokingly, which communicated itself to the +foreman. As a result the latter began to defend his position more +persistently. But Peter Gerasimovich spoke so convincingly that he won +over the majority, and it was finally decided that she was not guilty +of the theft. When, however, they began to discuss the part she had +taken in the poisoning, her warm supporter, the merchant, argued that +this charge must also be dismissed, as she had no motive for poisoning +him. The foreman insisted that she could not be declared innocent on +that charge, because she herself confessed to giving him the powder. + +"But she thought that it was opium," said the merchant. + +"She could have killed him even with the opium," retorted the colonel, +who liked to make digressions, and he began to relate the case of his +brother-in-law's wife, who had been poisoned by opium and would have +died had not antidotes promptly been administered by a physician who +happened to be in the neighborhood. The colonel spoke so impressively +and with such self-confidence and dignity that no one dared to +interrupt him. Only the clerk, infected by the example set by the +colonel, thought of telling a story of his own. + +"Some people get so accustomed to opium," he began, "that they can +take forty drops at a time. A relative of mine----" + +But the colonel would brook no interruption, and went on to tell of +the effect of the opium on his brother-in-law's wife. + +"It is five o'clock, gentlemen," said one of the jury. + +"What do you say, gentlemen," said the foreman. "We find her guilty, +but without the intent to rob, and without stealing any property--is +that correct?" + +Peter Gerasimovich, pleased with the victory he had gained, agreed to +the verdict. + +"And we recommend her to the mercy of the court," added the merchant. + +Every one agreed except the laborer, who insisted on a verdict of "Not +guilty." + +"But that is the meaning of the verdict," explained the foreman. +"Without the intent to rob, and without stealing any property--hence +she is not guilty." + +"Don't forget to throw in the recommendation to mercy. If there be +anything left that will wipe it out," joyfully said the merchant. They +were so tired and the arguments had so confused them that it did not +occur to any one to add "but without the intent to cause the death of +the merchant." + +Nekhludoff was so excited that he did not notice it. The answers were +in this form taken to the court. + +Rabelais relates the story of a jurist who was trying a case, and who, +after citing innumerable laws and reading twenty pages of +incomprehensible judicial Latin, made an offer to the litigants to +throw dice; if an even number fell then the plaintiff was right; if an +odd number the defendant was right. + +It was the same here. The verdict was reached not because the majority +of the jury agreed to it, but first because the justiciary had so +drawn out his speech that he failed to properly instruct the jury; +second, because the colonel's story about his brother-in-law's wife +was tedious; third, because Nekhludoff was so excited that he did not +notice the omission of the clause limiting the intent in the answer, +and thought that the words "without intent to rob" negatively answered +the question; fourth, because Peter Gerasimovich was not in the room +when the foreman read the questions and answers, and chiefly because +the jury were tired out and were anxious to get away, and therefore +agreed to the verdict which it was easiest to reach. + +They rang the bell. The gendarme sheathed his sword and stood aside. +The judges, one by one, took their seats and the jury filed out. + +The foreman held the list with a solemn air. He approached the +justiciary and handed it to him. The justiciary read it, and, with +evident surprise, turned to consult with his associates. He was +surprised that the jury, in limiting the charge by the words, "without +intent to rob," should fail to add also "without intent to cause +death." It followed from the decision of the jury, that Maslova had +not stolen or robbed, but had poisoned a man without any apparent +reason. + +"Just see what an absurd decision they have reached," he said to the +associate on his left. "This means hard labor for her, and she is not +guilty." + +"Why not guilty?" said the stern associate. + +"She is simply not guilty. I think that chapter 818 might properly be +applied to this case." (Chapter 818 gives the court the power to set +aside an unjust verdict.) + +"What do you think?" he asked the kind associate. + +"I agree with you." + +"And you?" he asked the choleric associate. + +"By no means," he answered, decidedly. "As it is, the papers say that +too many criminals are discharged by juries. What will they say, then, +if the court should discharge them? I will not agree under any +circumstances." + +The justiciary looked at the clock. + +"It is a pity, but what can I do?" and he handed the questions to the +foreman. + +They all rose, and the foreman, standing now on one foot, now on the +other, cleared his throat and read the questions and answers. All the +officers of the court--the secretary, the lawyers and even the +prosecutor--expressed surprise. + +The prisoners, who evidently did not understand the significance of +the answers, were serene. When the reading was over, the justiciary +asked the prosecutor what punishment he thought should be imposed on +the prisoners. + +The prosecutor, elated by the successful verdict against Maslova, +which he ascribed to his eloquence, consulted some books, then rose +and said: + +"Simon Kartinkin, I think, should be punished according to chapter +1,452, sec. 4, and chapter 1,453; Euphemia Bochkova according to +chapter 1,659, and Katherine Maslova according to chapter 1,454." + +All these were the severest punishments that could be imposed for the +crimes. + +"The court will retire to consider their decision," said the +justiciary, rising. + +Everybody then rose, and, with a relieved and pleasant feeling of +having fulfilled an important duty, walked around the court-room. + +"What a shameful mess we have made of it," said Peter Gerasimovitch, +approaching Nekhludoff, to whom the foreman was telling a story. "Why, +we have sentenced her to hard labor." + +"Is it possible?" exclaimed Nekhludoff, taking no notice at all this +time of the unpleasant familiarity of the tutor. + +"Why, of course," he said. "We have not inserted in the answer, +'Guilty, but without intent to cause death.' The secretary has just +told me that the law cited by the prosecutor provides fifteen years' +hard labor." + +"But that was our verdict," said the foreman. + +Peter Gerasimovitch began to argue that it was self-evident that as +she did not steal the money she could not have intended to take the +merchant's life. + +"But I read the questions before we left the room," the foreman +justified himself, "and no one objected." + +"I was leaving the room at the time," said Peter Gerasimovitch. "But +how did you come to miss it?" + +"I did not think of it," answered Nekhludoff. + +"You did not!" + +"We can right it yet," said Nekhludoff. + +"No, we cannot--it is all over now." + +Nekhludoff looked at the prisoners. While their fate was being +decided, they sat motionless behind the grating in front of the +soldiers. Maslova was smiling. + +Nekhludoff's soul was stirred by evil thoughts. When he thought that +she would be freed and remain in the city, he was undecided how he +should act toward her, and it was a difficult matter. But Siberia and +penal servitude at once destroyed the possibility of their meeting +again. The wounded bird would stop struggling in the game-bag, and +would no longer remind him of its existence. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +The apprehensions of Peter Gerasimovitch were justified. + +On returning from the consultation-room the justiciary produced a +document and read the following: + +"By order of His Imperial Majesty, the Criminal Division of the ---- +Circuit Court, in conformity with the finding of the jury, and in +accordance with ch. 771, s. 3, and ch. 776, s. 3, and ch. 777 of the +Code of Criminal Procedure, this 28th day of April, 188-, decrees +that Simon Kartinkin, thirty-three years of age, and Katherine +Maslova, twenty-seven years of age, be deprived of all civil rights, +and sent to penal servitude, Kartinkin for eight, Maslova for the term +of four years, under conditions prescribed by ch. 25 of the Code. +Euphemia Bochkova is deprived of all civil and special rights and +privileges, and is to be confined in jail for the period of three +years under conditions prescribed by ch. 49 of the Code, with the +costs of the trial to be borne by all three, and in case of their +inability to pay, to be paid out of the treasury. + +"The exhibits are to be sold, the ring returned, and the vials +destroyed." + +Kartinkin stood like a post, and with outstretched fingers held up the +sleeves of his coat, moving his jaws. Bochkova seemed to be calm. When +Maslova heard the decision, she turned red in the face. + +"I am innocent, I am innocent!" she suddenly cried. "It is a sin. I am +innocent. I never wished; never thought. It is the truth." And sinking +to the bench, she began to cry aloud. + +When Kartinkin and Bochkova left the court-room she was still standing +and crying, so that the gendarme had to touch the sleeve of her coat. + +"She cannot be left to her fate," said Nekhludoff to himself, entirely +forgetting his evil thoughts, and, without knowing why, he ran into +the corridor to look at her again. He was detained at the door for a +few minutes by the jostling, animated crowd of jurors and lawyers, who +were glad that the case was over, so that when he reached the corridor +Maslova was some distance away. Without thinking of the attention he +was attracting, with quick step he overtook her, walked a little ahead +of her and stopped. She had ceased to cry, only a sob escaped her now +and then while she wiped her tears with a corner of her 'kerchief. She +passed him without turning to look at him. He then hastily returned to +see the justiciary. The latter had left his room, and Nekhludoff found +him in the porter's lodge. + +"Judge," said Nekhludoff, approaching him at the moment when he was +putting on a light overcoat and taking a silver-handled cane which the +porter handed him, "may I speak to you about the case that has just +been tried? I am a juror." + +"Why, of course, Prince Nekhludoff! I am delighted to see you. We have +met before," said the justiciary, pressing his hand, and recalling +with pleasure that he was the jolliest fellow and best dancer of all +the young men on the evening he had met him. "What can I do for you?" + +"There was a mistake in the jury's finding against Maslova. She is not +guilty of poisoning, and yet she is sent to penal servitude," he said, +with a gloomy countenance. + +"The court gave its decision in accordance with your own finding," +answered the justiciary, moving toward the door, "although the answers +did not seem to suit the case." + +He remembered that he intended to explain to the jury that an answer +of guilty without a denial of intent to kill involved an intent to +kill, but, as he was hastening to terminate the proceedings, he failed +to do so. + +"But could not the mistake be rectified?" + +"Cause for appeal can always be found. You must see a lawyer," said +the justiciary, putting on his hat a little on one side and continuing +to move toward the door. + +"But this is terrible." + +"You see, one of two things confronted Maslova," the justiciary said, +evidently desiring to be as pleasant and polite with Nekhludoff as +possible. Then, arranging his side-whiskers over his coat collar, and +taking Nekhludoff's arm, he led him toward the door. "You are also +going?" he continued. + +"Yes," said Nekhludoff, hastily donning his overcoat and following +him. + +They came out into the bright, cheerful sunlight, where the rattling +of wheels on the pavement made it necessary to raise their voices. + +"The situation, you see, is a very curious one," continued the +justiciary. "Maslova was confronted by one of two things: either a +short term in jail, in which case her lengthy confinement would have +been taken into consideration, or penal servitude; no other sentence +was possible. Had you added the words, 'without intent to kill,' she +would have been discharged." + +"It is unpardonable neglect on my part," said Nekhludoff. + +"That is the whole trouble," the justiciary said, smiling and looking +at his watch. + +There was only three-quarters of an hour left to the latest hour fixed +in Clara's appointment. + +"You can apply to a lawyer, if you wish. It is necessary to find +grounds for appeal. But that can always be found. To the +Dvorianskaia," he said to the cab-driver. "Thirty kopecks--I never pay +more." + +"All right, Your Excellency." + +"Good-day. If I can be of any service to you, please let me know. You +will easily remember my address: Dvornikoff's house, on the +Dvorinskaia." + +And, making a graceful bow, he rode off. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +The conversation with the justiciary and the pure air somewhat calmed +Nekhludoff. The feeling he experienced he now ascribed to the fact +that he had passed the day amid surroundings to which he was +unaccustomed. + +"It is certainly a remarkable coincidence! I must do what is necessary +to alleviate her lot, and do it quickly. Yes, I must find out here +where Fanarin or Mikishin lives." Nekhludoff called to mind these two +well-known lawyers. + +Nekhludoff returned to the court-house, took off his overcoat and +walked up the stairs. In the very first corridor he met Fanarin. He +stopped him and told him that he had some business with him. Fanarin +knew him by sight, and also his name. He told Nekhludoff that he would +be glad to do anything to please him. + +"I am rather tired, but, if it won't take long, I will listen to your +case. Let us walk into that room." + +And Fanarin led Nekhludoff into a room, probably the cabinet of some +judge. They seated themselves at a table. + +"Well, state your case." + +"First of all, I will ask you," said Nekhludoff, "not to disclose that +I am interesting myself in this case." + +"That is understood. Well?" + +"I was on a jury to-day, and we sent an innocent woman to Siberia. It +torments me." + +To his own surprise, Nekhludoff blushed and hesitated. Fanarin glanced +at him, then lowered his eyes and listened. + +"Well?" + +"We condemned an innocent woman, and I would like to have the case +appealed to a higher court." + +"To the Senate?" Fanarin corrected him. + +"And I wish you to take the case." + +Nekhludoff wanted to get through the most difficult part, and +therefore immediately added: + +"I take all expenses on myself, whatever they may be," he said, +blushing. + +"Well, we will arrange all that," said the lawyer, condescendingly +smiling at Nekhludoff's inexperience. + +"What are the facts of the case?" + +Nekhludoff related them. + +"Very well; I will examine the record to-morrow. Call at my office the +day after--no, better on Thursday, at six o'clock in the evening, and +I will give you an answer. And now let us go; I must make some +inquiries here." + +Nekhludoff bade him good-by, and departed. + +His conversation with the lawyer, and the fact that he had already +taken steps to defend Maslova, still more calmed his spirit. The +weather was fine, and when Nekhludoff found himself on the street, he +gladly inhaled the spring air. Cab drivers offered their services, but +he preferred to walk, and a swarm of thoughts and recollections of +Katiousha and his conduct toward her immediately filled his head. He +became sad, and everything appeared to him gloomy. "No, I will +consider it later," he said to himself, "and now I must have some +diversion from these painful impressions." + +The dinner at the Korchagin's came to his mind, and he looked at his +watch. It was not too late to reach there for dinner. A tram-car +passed by. He ran after it, and boarded it at a bound. On the square +he jumped off, took one of the best cabs, and ten minutes later he +alighted in front of Korchagin's large dwelling. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + +"Walk in, Your Excellency, you are expected," said the fat porter, +pushing open the swinging, oaken door of the entrance. "They are +dining, but I was told to admit you." + +The porter walked to the stairway and rang the bell. + +"Are there any guests?" Nekhludoff asked, while taking off his coat. + +"Mr. Kolosoff, also Michael Sergeievich, besides the family," answered +the porter. + +A fine-looking lackey in dress coat and white gloves looked down from +the top of the stairs. + +"Please to walk in, Your Excellency," he said. + +Nekhludoff mounted the stairs, and through the spacious and +magnificent parlor he entered the dining-room. Around the table were +seated the entire family, except Princess Sophia Vasilievna, who never +left her own apartments. At the head of the table sat old Korchagin, +on his left the physician; on his right, a visitor, Ivan Ivanovich +Kolosoff, an ex-district commander, and now a bank manager, who was a +friend of the family, and of liberal tendencies; further to the left +was Miss Rader, governess to Missy's four-year-old sister, with the +little girl herself; then to the right, Missy's only brother, Peter, a +high-school pupil, on account of whose forthcoming examinations the +entire family remained in the city, and his tutor, also a student; +then again to the left, Katherine Alexeievna, a forty-year-old girl +Slavophile; opposite to her was Michael Sergeievich, or Misha Telegin, +Missy's cousin, and at the foot of the table, Missy herself, and +beside her, on the table, lay an extra cover. + +"Ah, very glad you came! Take a seat! We are still at the fish," +chewing carefully with his false teeth old Korchagin said, lifting his +bloodshot eyes on Nekhludoff. "Stepan!" he turned with a full mouth to +the fat, majestic servant, pointing with his eyes to Nekhludoff's +plate. Although Nekhludoff had often dined with and knew Korchagin +well, this evening his old face, his sensual, smacking lips, the +napkin stuck under his vest, the fat neck, and especially the +well-fed, military figure made an unpleasant impression on him. + +"It is all ready, Your Excellency," said Stepan, taking a soup ladle +from the sideboard and nodding to the fine-looking servant with the +side-whiskers, who immediately began to set the table beside Missy. + +Nekhludoff went around the table shaking hands with every one. All, +except Korchagin and the ladies, rose from their seats when he +approached them. And this walking around the table and his +handshaking, although most of the people were comparative strangers to +him, this evening seemed to Nekhludoff particularly unpleasant and +ridiculous. He excused himself for his late coming, and was about to +seat himself at the end of the table between Missy and Katherine +Alexeievna, when old Korchagin demanded that, since he would not take +any brandy, he should first take a bite at the table, on which were +lobster, caviare, cheese and herring. Nekhludoff did not know he was +as hungry as he turned out to be, and when he tasted of some cheese +and bread he could not stop eating, and ate ravenously. + +"Well? Have you been undermining the bases of society?" asked +Kolosoff, ironically, using an expression of a retrogressive +newspaper, which was attacking the jury system. "You have acquitted +the guilty and condemned the innocent? Have you?" + +"Undermining the bases--undermining the bases"--smilingly repeated the +Prince, who had boundless confidence in the intelligence and honesty +of his liberal comrade and friend. + +Nekhludoff, at the risk of being impolite, did not answer Kolosoff, +and, seating himself before the steaming soup, continued to eat. + +"Do let him eat," said Missy, smiling. By the pronoun "him," she +meant to call attention to her intimacy with Nekhludoff. + +Meanwhile Kolosoff was energetically and loudly discussing the article +against trial by jury which had roused his indignation. Michael +Sergeievich supported his contentions and quoted the contents of +another similar article. + +Missy, as usual, was very _distingue_ and unobtrusively well dressed. +She waited until Nekhludoff had swallowed the mouthful he was chewing, +and then said: "You must be very tired and hungry." + +"Not particularly. Are you? Have you been to the exhibition?" he +asked. + +"No, we postponed it. But we went to play lawn tennis at the +Salamatoff's. Mister Crooks is really a remarkable player." + +Nekhludoff had came here for recreation, and it was always pleasant to +him to be in this house, not only because of the elegant luxury, which +acted pleasantly on his senses, but because of the adulating +kindnesses with which they invisibly surrounded him. To-day, +however--it is wonderful to relate--everything in this house disgusted +him; the porter, the broad stairway, the flowers, the lackeys, the +table decorations, and even Missy herself, who, just now, seemed to +him unattractive and unnatural. He was disgusted with that +self-confident, vulgar, liberal tone of Kolosoff, the bull-like, +sensual, figure of old Korchagin, the French phrases of the Slavophile +maiden, the ceremonious faces of the governess and the tutor. But +above all, he was disgusted with the pronoun "him" that Missy had +used. Nekhludoff was always wavering between two different relations +he sustained toward Missy. Sometimes he looked at her as through +blinking eyes or by moonlight, and then she seemed to him beautiful, +fresh, pretty, clever and natural. At other times he looked at her as +if under a bright sun, and then he saw only her defects. To-day was +such a day. He saw the wrinkles on her face; saw the artificial +arrangement of her hair; the pointed elbows, and, above all, her large +thumb nail, resembling that of her father. + +"It is the dullest game," Kolosoff said, speaking of tennis, +"baseball, as we played it when we were boys, is much more amusing." + +"You have not tried it. It is awfully interesting," retorted Missy, +unnaturally accentuating the word "awfully," as it seemed to +Nekhludoff. + +A discussion arose in which Michael Sergeievich and Katherine +Alexeievna took part. Only the governess, the tutor and the children +were silent, evidently from ennui. + +"They are eternally disputing!" laughing aloud, said old Korchagin. He +pulled the napkin from his vest, and, noisily pushing back his chair, +which was immediately removed by a servant, rose from the table. They +all rose after him and went to a small table, on which stood figured +bowls filled with perfumed water; then they washed their finger-tips +and rinsed their mouths, and continued their conversation, in which no +one took any interest. + +"Is it not true?" Missy said to Nekhludoff, desiring to receive +confirmation of her opinion that man's character can best be learned +in play. She noticed on his thoughtful face an expression of reproach, +which inspired her with fear, and she wished to know the cause of it. + +"I really don't know. I never thought of it," answered Nekhludoff. + +"Will you go to mamma?" asked Missy. + +"Yes, yes," he said, producing a cigarette. The tone of his voice +plainly betrayed that he did not wish to go. + +She looked at him inquiringly, but was silent. He felt ashamed. "It is +hardly proper for me to come here to put people out of temper," he +thought, and, in an effort to be pleasant, he said that he would go +with pleasure if the Princess were in a mood to receive him. + +"Yes, yes; mamma will be glad. You can smoke there also. And Ivan +Ivanovich is with her." + +The mistress of the house, Sophia Vasilievna, was an invalid. For +eight years she had reclined in laces and ribbons, amid velvet, +gilding, ivory, bronzes and flowers. She never drove out, and received +only her "friends," i. e., whoever, according to her view, in any way +distinguished himself from the crowd. Nekhludoff was one of these +friends, not only because he was considered a clever young man, but +also because his mother was a close friend of the family and he was a +desirable match for Missy. + +Her room was beyond the small and large drawing-rooms. In the large +drawing-room Missy, who preceded Nekhludoff, suddenly stopped, and +placing her hands on the back of a gilt chair, looked at him. + +Missy was very anxious to be married, and Nekhludoff was a desirable +party. Besides, she liked him, and had become accustomed to the +thought that he would belong to her, and not she to him, and, with the +unconscious but persistent craftiness of heart-sick persons, she +gained her end. She addressed him now with the intention of bringing +forth an explanation. + +"I see that something has happened to you," she said. "What is the +matter with you?" + +The meeting in the court came to his mind, and he frowned and blushed. + +"Yes, something has happened," he said, desiring to be truthful. "It +was a strange, extraordinary and important event." + +"What was it? Can't you tell me?" + +"Not now. Don't press me for an answer. I have not had the time to +think over the matter," he said, blushing still more. + +"And you will not tell me?" The muscles on her cheek quivered, and she +pushed away the chair. + +"No, I cannot," he answered, feeling that answering her thus he +answered himself--admitted to himself that something very important +had really happened to him. + +"Well, then, come!" + +She shook her head as if desiring to drive away undesirable thoughts, +and walked forward with a quicker step than usual. + +It seemed to him that she unnaturally compressed her lips in order to +suppress her tears. It was painful to him to grieve her, but he knew +that the slightest weakness would ruin him, i. e., bind him. And this +he feared more than anything else to-day, so he silently followed her +to the door of the Princess' apartments. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + +Princess Sophia Vasilievna had finished her meal of choice and +nourishing dishes, which she always took alone, that no one might see +her performing that unpoetical function. A cup of coffee stood on a +small table near her couch, and she was smoking a cigarette. Princess +Sophia Vasilievna was a lean and tall brunette, with long teeth and +large black eyes, who desired to pass for a young woman. + +People were making unpleasant remarks about her relations with the +doctor. Formerly Nekhludoff had paid no attention to them. But to-day, +the sight of the doctor, with his oily, sleek head, which was parted +in the middle, sitting near her couch, was repulsive to him. + +Beside the Princess sat Kolosoff, stirring the coffee. A glass of +liquor was on the table. + +Missy entered, together with Nekhludoff, but she did not remain in the +room. + +"When mamma gets tired of you and drives you away, come to my room," +she said, turning to Nekhludoff, as if nothing had happened, and, +smiling cheerfully, she walked out of the room, her steps deadened by +the heavy carpet. + +"Well, how do you do, my friend? Sit down and tell us the news," said +Sophia Vasilievna, with an artful, feigned, resembling a perfectly +natural, smile, which displayed her beautiful, long, skillfully made, +almost natural-looking teeth. "I am told that you returned from the +court in very gloomy spirits. It must be very painful to people with a +heart," she said in French. + +"Yes, that is true," said Nekhludoff. "One often feels his--feels that +he has no right to judge others." + +"Comme c'est vrai!" she exclaimed, as if struck by the truth of the +remark, and, as usual, artfully flattering her friend. + +"And what about your picture? It interests me very much," she added. +"Were it not for my indisposition, I should have visited you long +ago." + +"I have given up painting entirely," he answered dryly. Her unjust +flattery was as apparent to him to-day as was her age, which she +attempted to conceal. Try as he would, he could not force himself to +be pleasant. + +"It is too bad! You know, Riepin himself told me that Nekhludoff +possesses undoubted talent," she said, turning to Kolosoff. + +"What a shameless liar!" Nekhludoff thought, frowning. + +Seeing that Nekhludoff was in ill humor, and could not be drawn into +pleasant and clear conversation, Sophia Vasilievna turned to Kolosoff +for his opinion of the new drama, with an air as if Kolosoff's opinion +would dispel all doubt and every word of his was destined to become +immortalized. Kolosoff condemned the drama and took occasion to state +his views on art. The correctness of his views seemed to impress her; +she attempted to defend the author of the drama, but immediately +yielded, or found a middle ground. Nekhludoff looked and listened and +yet saw and heard but little. + +Listening now to Sophia Vasilievna, now to Kolosoff, Nekhludoff saw, +first, that neither of them cared either for the drama or for each +other, and that they were talking merely to satisfy a physiological +craving to exercise, after dinner, the muscles of the tongue and +throat. Secondly, he saw that Kolosoff, who had drunk brandy, wine and +liquors, was somewhat tipsy--not as drunk as a drinking peasant, but +like a man to whom wine-drinking has become a habit. He did not reel, +nor did he talk nonsense, but was in an abnormal, excited and +contented condition. Thirdly, Nekhludoff saw that Princess Sophia +Vasilievna, during the conversation, now and again anxiously glanced +at the window, through which a slanting ray of the sun was creeping +toward her, threatening to throw too much light on her aged face. + +"How true it is," she said of some remark of Kolosoff, and pressed a +button on the wall near the couch. + +At this moment the doctor rose with as little ceremony as one of the +family, and walked out of the room. Sophia Vasilievna followed him +with her eyes. + +"Please, Phillip, let down that curtain," she said to the +fine-looking servant who responded to the bell, her eyes pointing to +the window. + +"Say what you will, but there is something mystical about him, and +without mysticism there is no poetry," she said, with one black eye +angrily following the movements of the servant who was lowering the +curtain. + +"Mysticism without poetry is superstition, and poetry without +mysticism is prose," she continued, smiling sadly, still keeping her +eye on the servant, who was smoothing down the curtain. + +"Not that curtain, Phillip--the one at the large window," she said in +a sad voice, evidently pitying herself for the efforts she was +compelled to make to say these words, and to calm herself, with her +ring-bedecked hand, she lifted to her lips the fragrant, smoking +cigarette. + +The broad-chested, muscular Phillip bowed slightly, as if excusing +himself, and submissively and silently stepped over to the next +window, and, carefully looking at the Princess, so arranged the +curtain that no stray ray should fall on her. It was again +unsatisfactory, and again the exhausted Princess was obliged to +interrupt her conversation about mysticism and correct the +unintelligent Phillip, who was pitilessly tormenting her. For a moment +Phillip's eyes flashed fire. + +"'The devil knows what you want,' he is probably saying to himself," +Nekhludoff thought, as he watched this play. But the handsome, strong +Phillip concealed his impatience, and calmly carried out the +instructions of the enervated, weak, artificial Princess Sophia +Vasilievna. + +"Of course there is considerable truth in Darwin's theory," said the +returning Kolosoff, stretching himself on a low arm-chair and looking +through sleepy eyes at the Princess, "but he goes too far." + +"And do you believe in heredity?" she asked Nekhludoff, oppressed by +his silence. + +"In heredity?" repeated Nekhludoff. "No, I do not," he said, being +entirely absorbed at the moment by those strange forms which, for some +reason, appeared to his imagination. Alongside of the strong, handsome +Phillip, whom he looked upon as a model, he imagined Kolosoff, naked, +his abdomen like a water-melon, bald-headed, and his arms hanging +like two cords. He also dimly imagined what the silk-covered shoulders +of Sophia Vasilievna would appear like in reality, but the picture was +too terrible, and he drove it from his mind. + +Sophia Vasilievna scanned him from head to foot. + +"Missy is waiting for you," she said. "Go to her room; she wished to +play for you a new composition by Schuman. It is very interesting." + +"It isn't true. Why should she lie so!" Nekhludoff thought, rising and +pressing her transparent, bony, ring-bedecked hand. + +In the drawing-room he met Katherine Alexeievna, returning to her +mother's apartments. As usual, she greeted him in French. + +"I see that the duties of juryman act depressingly upon you," she +said. + +"Yes, pardon me. I am in low spirits to-day, and I have no right to +bore people," answered Nekhludoff. + +"Why are you in low spirits?" + +"Permit me not to speak of it," he said, looking for his hat as they +entered the Princess' cabinet. + +"And do you remember telling us that one ought to tell the truth? And +what cruel truths you used to tell us! Why don't you tell us now? Do +you remember, Missy?" the Princess turned to Missy, who had just +entered. + +"Because that was in play," answered Nekhludoff gravely. "In play it +is permissible, but in reality we are so bad, that is, I am so bad, +that I, at least, cannot tell the truth." + +"Don't correct yourself, but rather say that we are so bad," said +Katherine Alexeievna, playing with the words, and pretending not to +see Nekhludoff's gravity. + +"There is nothing worse than to confess being in low spirits," said +Missy. "I never confess it to myself, and that is why I am always +cheerful. Well, come to my room. We shall try to drive away your +mauvais humeur." + +Nekhludoff experienced the feeling which a horse must feel when +brushed down before the bridle is put on and it is led to be harnessed +to the wagon. But to-day he was not at all disposed to draw. He +excused himself and began to take leave. Missy kept his hand longer +than usual. + +"Remember that what is important to you is important to your friends," +she said. "Will you come to-morrow?" + +"I don't think I will," said Nekhludoff. And feeling ashamed, without +knowing himself whether for her or for himself, he blushed and hastily +departed. + +"What does it mean? Comme cela m'intrigue," said Katherine Alexeievna, +when Nekhludoff had left. "I must find it out. Some affaire d'amour +propre; il est tres susceptible notre cher Mitia." + +"Plutot une affaire d'amour sale," Missy was going to say. Her face +was now wan and pale. But she did not give expression to that passage, +and only said: "We all have our bright days and gloomy days." + +"Is it possible that he, too, should deceive me?" she thought. "After +all that has happened, it would be very wrong of him." + +If Missy had had to explain what she meant by the words, "After all +that has happened," she could have told nothing definite, and yet she +undoubtedly knew that not only had he given her cause to hope, but he +had almost made his promise--not in so many words, but by his glances, +his smiles, his innuendos, his silence. She considered him her own, +and to lose him would be very painful to her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + + +"It is shameful and disgusting," Nekhludoff meditated, while returning +home on foot along the familiar streets. The oppressive feeling which +he had experienced while speaking to Missy clung to him. He understood +that nominally, if one may so express himself, he was in the right; he +had never said anything to bind himself to her; had made no offer, but +in reality he felt that he had bound himself to her, that he had +promised to be hers. Yet he felt in all his being that he could not +marry her. + +"It is shameful and disgusting," he repeated, not only of his +relations to Missy, but of everything. "Everything is disgusting and +shameful," he repeated to himself, as he ascended the steps of his +house. + +"I shall take no supper," he said to Kornei, who followed him into the +dining-room, where the table was set for his supper. "You may go." + +"All right," said Kornei, but did not go, and began to clear the +table. Nekhludoff looked at Kornei and an ill feeling sprung up in his +heart toward him. He wished to be left in peace, and it seemed as if +everybody were spitefully worrying him. When Kornei had left, +Nekhludoff went over to the _samovar_, intending to make some tea, +but, hearing the footsteps of Agrippina Petrovna, he hastily walked +into the drawing-room, closing the door behind him. This was the room +in which, three months ago, his mother had died. Now, as he entered +this room, lighted by two lamps with reflectors--one near a portrait +of his father, the other near a portrait of his mother--he thought of +his relations toward his mother, and these relations seemed to him +unnatural and repulsive. These, too, were shameful and disgusting. He +remembered how, during her last sickness, he wished her to die. He +said to himself that he wished it so that she might be spared the +suffering, but in reality he wished to spare himself the sight of her +suffering. + +Desiring to call forth pleasant recollections about her, he looked at +her portrait, painted by a famous artist for five thousand rubles. She +was represented in a black velvet dress with bared breast. The artist +had evidently drawn with particular care the breast and the beautiful +shoulders and neck. That was particularly shameful and disgusting. +There was something revolting and sacriligious to him in this +representation of his mother as a denuded beauty, the more so because +three months ago she lay in this very room shrunken like a mummy, and +filling the entire house with an oppressive odor. He thought he could +smell the odor now. He remembered how, on the day before she died, she +took his strong, white hand into her own emaciated, discolored one, +and, looking into his eyes, said: "Do not judge me, Mitia, if I have +not done as I should," and her faded eyes filled with tears. + +"How disgusting!" he again repeated to himself, glancing at the +half-nude woman with splendid marble shoulders and arms and a +triumphant smile on her lips. The bared bosom of that portrait +reminded him of another young woman whom he had seen dressed in a +similar way a few days before. It was Missy, who had invited him to +the house under some pretext, in order to display before him her +ball-dress. He recalled with disgust her beautiful shoulders and arms; +and her coarse, brutal father, with his dark past, his cruelties, and +her mother with her doubtful reputation. All this was disgusting and +at the same time shameful. + +"No, no; I must free myself from all these false relations with the +Korchagins, with Maria Vasilievna, with the inheritance and all the +rest," he thought. "Yes, to breathe freely; to go abroad--to Rome--and +continue to work on my picture." He remembered his doubts about his +talent. "Well, it is all the same; I will simply breathe freely. +First, I will go to Constantinople, then to Rome--away from this jury +duty. Yes, and to fix matters with the lawyer----" + +And suddenly, before his imagination, appeared with uncommon vividness +the picture of the prisoner with the black, squinting eyes. And how +she wept when the last words of the prisoners were spoken! He hastily +crushed the cigarette he was smoking, lit another, and began pacing up +and down the room. One after another the scenes he had lived through +with her rose up in his mind. He recalled their last meeting, the +passion which seized him at the time, and the disappointment that +followed. He recalled the white dress with the blue ribbon; he +recalled the morning mass. "Why, I loved her with a pure love that +night; I loved her even before, and how I loved her when I first came +to my aunts and was writing my composition!" That freshness, youth, +fullness of life swept over him and he became painfully sad. + +The difference between him as he was then and as he was now was great; +it was equally great, if not greater, than the difference between +Katiousha in the church and that girl whom they had tried this +morning. Then he was a courageous, free man, before whom opened +endless possibilities; now he felt himself caught in the tenets of a +stupid, idle, aimless, miserable life, from which there was no escape; +aye, from which, for the most part, he would not escape. He +remembered how he once had prided himself upon his rectitude; how he +always made it a rule to tell the truth, and was in reality truthful, +and how he was now steeped in falsehood--falsehood which was +recognized as truth by all those around him. + +And there was no escape from this falsehood; at all events, he did not +see any escape. He had sunk in it, became accustomed to it, and +indulged himself in it. + +The questions that absorbed him now were: How to break loose from +Maria Vasilievna and her husband, so that he might be able to look +them in the face? How, without falsehood, to disentangle his relations +with Missy? How to get out of the inconsistency of considering the +private holding of land unjust and keeping his inheritance? How to +blot out his sin against Katiousha? "I cannot abandon the woman whom I +have loved and content myself with paying money to the lawyer to save +her from penal servitude, which she does not even deserve." To blot +out the sin, as he did then, when he thought that he was atoning for +his wrong by giving her money! Impossible! + +He vividly recalled the moment when he ran after her in the corridor, +thrust money in her bosom, and ran away from her. "Oh, that money!" +With the same horror and disgust he recalled that moment. "Oh, how +disgusting!" he said aloud, as he did then. "Only a scoundrel and +rascal could do it! And I am that scoundrel, that rascal!" he said +aloud. "It is possible that I--" and he stopped in the middle of the +room--"Is it possible that I am really a scoundrel? Who but I?" he +answered himself. "And is this the only thing?" he continued, still +censuring himself. "Are not my relations toward Maria Vasilievna base +and detestable? And my position with regard to property? Under the +plea that I inherited it from my mother I am using wealth, the +ownership of which I consider unlawful. And the whole of this idle, +abominable life? And to crown all, my conduct toward Katiousha? +Scoundrel! Villain! Let people judge me as they please--I can deceive +them, but I cannot deceive myself." + +And he suddenly understood that the disgust which he had lately felt +toward everybody, and especially to-day toward the Prince and Maria +Vasilievna, and Missy, and Kornei, was disgust with himself. And in +this confession of his own baseness there was something painful, and +at the same time joyous and calming. + +In the course of his life Nekhludoff often experienced what he called +a "cleansing of the soul." This happened when, after a long period of +retardation, or, perhaps, entire cessation of his inner life, he +suddenly became aware of it, and proceeded to cleanse his soul of all +the accumulated filth that caused this standstill. + +After such awakenings Nekhludoff always laid down some rules for +himself which he intended to follow all the rest of his life; kept a +diary and began a new life, which he hoped he should never change +again--"turning a new leaf," he used to call it. But the temptations +of life entrapped him anew, after every awakening, and, without +knowing it, he sank again, often to a lower depth than he was in +before. + +Thus he cleansed himself and revived several times. His first +cleansing happened when he visited his aunts. That was the brightest +and most enthusiastic awakening. And it lasted a long time. The next +happened when he left the civil service, and, desiring to sacrifice +his life, he entered, during the war, the military service. Here he +began to sink quickly. The next awakening occurred when he retired +from the military service, and, going abroad, gave himself up to +painting. + +From that day to this there was a long period of uncleanliness, the +longest he had gone through yet, and, therefore, he had never sunk so +deep, and never before was there such discord between the demands of +his conscience and the life which he was leading. So, when he saw the +chasm which separated the two, he was horrified. + +The discord was so great, the defilement so thorough, that at first he +despaired of the possibility of a complete cleansing. "Why, you have +tried to improve before, and failed," the tempter in his soul +whispered. "What is the good of trying again? You are not the only +one--all are alike. Such is life." But the free, spiritual being which +alone is true, alone powerful, alone eternal, was already awake in +Nekhludoff. And he could not help believing it. However great the +difference between that which he was and that which he wished to be, +for the awakened spiritual being everything was possible. + +"I shall break this lie that binds me at any cost. I will confess the +truth to everybody, and will act the truth," he said aloud, +resolutely. "I will tell Missy the truth--that I am a profligate and +cannot marry her; that I have trifled with her. I will tell Maria +Vasilevna (the wife of the marshal of nobility)--but no, what is the +good of telling her? I will tell her husband that I am a scoundrel, +that I have deceived him. I will dispose of my inheritance in +accordance with the demands of justice. I will tell her, Katiousha, +that I am a knave, that I have wronged her, and will do everything in +my power to alleviate her condition. Yes, I shall see her, and beg her +forgiveness--I will beg like a child." + +He stopped. + +"I will marry her, if necessary." + +He crossed his hands on his breast, as he used to do when a child, +raised his eyes and said: + +"Lord, help me, teach me; come and enter within me and purify me of +all this abomination." + +He prayed, asked God to help him and purify him, while that which he +was praying for had already happened. Not only did he feel the +freedom, vigor and gladness of life, but he also felt the power of +good. He felt himself capable of doing the best that man can do. + +There were tears in his eyes when he said these things--tears of +joy--on the awakening within him of that spiritual being, and tears of +emotion over his own virtue. + +He felt warm and opened a window which looked into a garden. It was a +moonlit, fresh and quiet night. Past the street rattled some vehicle, +and then everything was quiet. Directly beneath the window a tall, +denuded poplar threw its shadow on the gravel of the landing-place, +distinctly showing all the ramifications of its bare branches. To the +left the roof of a shed seemed white under the bright light of the +moon; in front were the tangled branches of the trees, through which +was seen the dark shadow of the garden inclosure. + +Nekhludoff looked at the moonlit garden and roof, the shadows of the +poplar, and drank in the fresh, invigorating air. + +"How delightful! My God, how delightful!" he said of that which was in +his soul. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + + +It was six o'clock when Maslova returned to her cell, weary and +foot-sore from the long tramp over the stone pavement. Besides, she +was crushed by the unexpectedly severe sentence, and was also hungry. + +When, during a recess, her guards had lunched on bread and hard-boiled +eggs her mouth watered and she felt that she was hungry, but +considered it humiliating to ask them for some food. Three hours after +that her hunger had passed, and she only felt weak. In this condition +she heard the sentence. At first she thought that she misunderstood +it; she could not believe what she heard, and could not reconcile +herself to the idea that she was a convict. But, seeing the calm, +serious faces of the judges and the jury, who received the verdict as +something quite natural, she revolted and cried out that she was +innocent. And when she saw also that her outcry, too, was taken as +something natural and anticipated, and which could not alter the case, +she began to weep. She felt that she must submit to the cruel +injustice which was perpetrated on her. What surprised her most was +that she should be so cruelly condemned by men--not old men, but those +same young men who looked at her so kindly. + +The prosecuting attorney was the only man whose glances were other +than kind. While she was sitting in the prisoners' room, and during +recesses she saw these men passing by her and entering the room under +various pretexts, but with the obvious intention of looking at her. +And now these same men, for some reason, sentenced her to hard labor, +although she was innocent of the crime. For some time she wept, then +became calm, and in a condition of complete exhaustion she waited to +be taken away. She desired but one thing now--a cigarette. She was in +this frame of mind when Bochkova and Kartinkin were brought into the +room. Bochkova immediately began to curse her. + +"You are innocent, aren't you? Why weren't you discharged, you vile +thing? You got your deserts! You will drop your fineries in Siberia!" + +Maslova sat with lowered head, her hands folded in the sleeves of her +coat, and gazed on the smoothly trampled ground. + +"I am not interfering with you, so leave me in peace," she repeated +several times, then became silent. She became enlivened again when, +after Bochkova and Kartinkin had been removed from the room, the guard +entered, bringing her three rubles. + +"Are you Maslova?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"Here is some money which a lady sent you," he said. + +"What lady?" + +"Take it, and ask no questions." + +The money was sent by Kitaeva. When leaving the court she asked the +usher if she could send some money to Maslova, and, receiving an +affirmative answer, she removed a chamois glove, and, from the back +folds of her silk dress, produced a stylish pocket-book, and counted +out the money into the hands of the usher who, in her presence, handed +it to the guard. + +"Please be sure to give it to her," said Karolina Albertoona to the +guard. + +The guard was offended by this distrust shown to him, which was the +cause of his speaking angrily to Maslova. + +Maslova was overjoyed by the receipt of the money, for it could give +her the one thing she wished for now. + +All her thoughts were now centered on her desire to inhale the smoke +of a cigarette. So strong was this desire that she greedily inhaled +the smoke-laden air which was wafted in from the corridor and through +the cabinet door. But there was a long wait before her, for the +secretary, who was to deliver to the guard the order for her removal, +forgetting the prisoners, engaged one of the lawyers in the discussion +of an editorial that had appeared in a newspaper. + +At five o'clock she was finally led down through the rear door. While +in the waiting-room she gave one of the guards twenty kopecks, asking +him to buy for her two lunch rolls and some cigarettes. The guard +laughed, took the money, honestly made the purchase and returned the +change to her. She could not smoke on the road, so Maslova arrived at +the jail with the same unsatisfied craving for a cigarette. At that +moment about a hundred prisoners were brought from the railroad +station. Maslova met them in the passageway. + +The prisoners, bearded, clean-shaven, old, young, Russians and +foreigners--some with half-shaved heads, and with a clinking of iron +fetters, filled the passage with dust, tramping of feet, conversation +and a sharp odor of perspiration. The prisoners, as they passed +Maslova, scanned her from head to foot; some approached and teased +her. + +"Fine girl, that!" said one. "My compliments, auntie," said another, +winking one eye. A dark man with a shaven, blue neck and long +mustache, tangling in his fetters, sprang toward her and embraced her. + +"Don't you recognize your friend? Come, don't put on such style!" he +exclaimed, grinning as she pushed him away. + +"What are you doing, you rascal?" shouted the officer in charge of the +prisoners. + +The prisoner hastily hid himself in the crowd. The officer fell upon +Maslova. + +"What are you doing here?" + +Maslova was going to say that she had been brought from the court, but +she was very tired and too lazy to speak. + +"She is just from the court, sir," said one of the guards, elbowing +his way through the passing crowd, and raising his hand to his cap. + +"Then take her to the warden. What indecencies!" + +"Very well, sir!" + +"Sokoloff! Take her away!" shouted the officer. + +Sokoloff came and angrily pushed Maslova by the shoulder, and, +motioning to her to follow him, he led her into the woman's corridor. +There she was thoroughly searched, and as nothing was found upon her +(the box of cigarettes was hidden in the lunch roll), she was admitted +into the same cell from which she had emerged in the morning. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + + +The cell in which Maslova was confined was an oblong room, twenty feet +by fifteen. The kalsomining of the walls was peeled off, and the dry +boards of the cots occupied two-thirds of the space. In the middle of +the room, opposite the door, was a dark iron, with a wax candle stuck +on it, and a dusty bouquet of immortelles hanging under it. To the +left, behind the door, on a darkened spot of the floor, stood an +ill-smelling vat. The women had been locked up for the night. + +There were fifteen inmates of this cell, twelve women and three +children. + +It was not dark yet, and only two women lay in their cots; one a +foolish little woman--she was constantly crying--who had been arrested +because she had no written evidence of her identity, had her head +covered with her coat; the other, a consumptive, was serving a +sentence for theft. She was not sleeping, but lay, her coat under her +head, with wide-open eyes, and with difficulty retaining in her throat +the tickling, gurgling phlegm, so as not to cough. The other women +were with bare heads and skirts of coarse linen; some sat on their +cots sewing; others stood at the window gazing on the passing +prisoners. Of the three women who were sewing, one, Korableva, was the +one who had given Maslova the instructions when the latter left the +cell. She was a tall, strong woman, with a frowning, gloomy face, all +wrinkled, a bag of skin hanging under her chin, a short braid of light +hair, turning gray at the temples, and a hairy wart on her cheek. This +old woman was sentenced to penal servitude for killing her husband +with an axe. The killing was committed because he annoyed her daughter +with improper advances. She was the overseer of the cell, and also +sold wine to the inmates. She was sewing with eye-glasses, and held +the needle, after the fashion of the peasants, with three fingers, +the sharp point turned toward her breast. Beside her, also sewing, sat +a little woman, good-natured and talkative, dark, snub-nosed and with +little black eyes. She was the watch-woman at a flag-station, and was +sentenced to three months' imprisonment for negligently causing an +accident on the railroad. The third of the women who were occupied +with sewing was Theodosia--called Fenichka by her fellow-prisoners--of +light complexion, and with rosy cheeks; young, lovely, with bright, +childish blue eyes, and two long, flaxen braids rolled up on her small +head. She was imprisoned for attempting to poison her husband. She was +sixteen years old when she was married, and she made the attempt +immediately after her marriage. During the eight months that she was +out on bail, she not only became reconciled to her husband, but became +so fond of him that the court officers found them living in perfect +harmony. In spite of all the efforts of her husband, her +father-in-law, and especially her mother-in-law, who had grown very +fond of her, to obtain her discharge, she was sentenced to hard labor +in Siberia. The kind, cheerful and smiling Theodosia, whose cot was +next to Maslova's, not only took a liking to her, but considered it +her duty to help her in every possible way. Two other women were +sitting idly on their cots; one of about forty years, who seemed to +have been pretty in her youth, but was now pale and slim, was feeding +a child with her long, white breast. Her crime consisted in that, when +the people of the village she belonged to attempted to stop a +recruiting officer who had drafted, illegally, as they thought, her +nephew, she was the first to take hold of the bridle of his horse. +There was another little white-haired, wrinkled woman, good-natured +and hunch-backed, who sat near the oven and pretended to be catching a +four-year-old, short-haired and stout boy, who, in a short little +shirt, was running past her, laughing and repeating: "You tan't tatch +me!" This old woman, who, with her son, was charged with incendiarism, +bore her confinement good-naturedly, grieving only over her son, who +was also in jail, but above all, her heart was breaking for her old +man who, she feared, would be eaten up by lice, as her daughter-in-law +had returned to her parents, and there was no one to wash him. + +Besides these seven women, there were four others who stood near the +open windows, their hands resting on the iron gratings, and conversing +by signs and shouts with the prisoners whom Maslova had met in the +passageway. One of these, who was serving a sentence for theft, was a +flabby, large, heavy, red-haired woman with white-yellow freckles over +her face, and a stout neck which was exposed by the open waist collar. +In a hoarse voice she shouted indecent words through the window. +Beside her stood a woman of the size of a ten-year-old girl, very +dark, with a long back and very short legs. Her face was red and +blotched; her black eyes wide open, and her short, thick lips failed +to hide her white, protruding teeth. She laughed in shrill tones at +the antics of the prisoners. This prisoner, who was nicknamed Miss +Dandy, because of her stylishness, was under indictment for theft and +incendiarism. Behind them, in a very dirty, gray shirt, stood a +wretched-looking woman, big with child, who was charged with +concealing stolen property. This woman was silent, but she approvingly +smiled at the actions of the prisoners without. The fourth of the +women who stood at the window, and was undergoing sentence for illicit +trading in spirits, was a squat little country woman with bulging eyes +and kindly face. She was the mother of the boy who was playing with +the old woman, and of another seven-year-old girl, both of whom were +in jail with her, because they had no one else to take care of them. +Knitting a stocking, she was looking through the window and +disapprovingly frowned and closed her eyes at the language used by the +passing prisoners. The girl who stood near the red-haired woman, with +only a shirt on her back, and clinging with one hand to the woman's +skirt, attentively listened to the abusive words the men were +exchanging with the women, and repeated them in a whisper, as if +committing them to memory. The twelfth was the daughter of a church +clerk and chanter who had drowned her child in a well. She was a tall +and stately girl, with large eyes and tangled hair sticking out of her +short, thick, flaxen braid. She paid no attention to what was going on +around her, but paced, bare-footed, and in a dirty gray shirt, over +the floor of the cell, making sharp and quick turns when she reached +the wall. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + + +When with a rattling of chains the cell door was unlocked and Maslova +admitted, all eyes were turned toward her. Even the chanter's daughter +stopped for a moment and looked at her with raised eyebrows, but +immediately resumed walking with long, resolute strides. Korableva +stuck her needle into the sack she was sewing and gazed inquiringly +through her glasses at Maslova. + +"Ah me! So she has returned," she said in a hoarse basso voice. "And I +was sure she would be set right. She must have got it." + +She removed her glasses and placed them with her sewing beside her. + +"I have been talking with auntie, dear, and we thought that they might +discharge you at once. They say it happens. And they sometimes give +you money, if you strike the right time," the watch-woman started in a +singing voice. "What ill-luck! It seems we were wrong. God has His own +way, dear," she went on in her caressing and melodious voice. + +"It is possible that they convicted you?" asked Theodosia, with gentle +compassion, looking at Maslova with her childish, light-blue eyes, and +her cheerful, young face changed, and she seemed to be ready to cry. + +Maslova made no answer, but silently went to her place, next to +Korableva's, and sat down. + +"You have probably not eaten anything," said Theodosia, rising and +going over to Maslova. + +Again Maslova did not answer, but placed the two lunch-rolls at the +head of the cot and began to undress. She took off the dusty coat, and +the 'kerchief from her curling black hair and sat down. + +The hunch-backed old woman also came and stopped in front of Maslova, +compassionately shaking her head. + +The boy came behind the old woman, and, with a protruding corner of +the upper lip and wide-open eyes, gazed on the rolls brought by +Maslova. Seeing all these compassionate faces, after what had +happened, Maslova almost cried and her lips began to twitch. She +tried to and did restrain herself until the old woman and the child +approached. When, however, she heard the kind, compassionate +exclamation of pity from the old woman, and, especially, when her eyes +met the serious eyes of the boy who looked now at her, now at the +rolls, she could restrain herself no longer. Her whole face began to +twitch and she burst into sobs. + +"I told her to take a good lawyer," said Korableva. "Well? To +Siberia?" she asked. + +Maslova wished to answer but could not, and, crying, she produced from +the roll the box of cigarettes, on which a picture of a red lady with +a high chignon and triangle-shaped, low cut neck was printed, and gave +it to Korableva. The latter looked at the picture, disapprovingly +shook her head, chiefly because Maslova spent money so foolishly, and, +lighting a cigarette over the lamp, inhaled the smoke several times, +then thrust it at Maslova. Maslova, without ceasing to cry, eagerly +began to inhale the smoke. + +"Penal servitude," she murmured, sobbing. + +"They have no fear of God, these cursed blood-suckers!" said +Korableva. "They have condemned an innocent girl." + +At this moment there was a loud outburst of laughter among those +standing near the window. The delicate laughter of the little girl +mingled with the hoarse and shrill laughter of the women. This +merriment was caused by some act of a prisoner without. + +"Oh, the scoundrel! See what he is doing!" said the red-headed woman, +pressing her face against the grating, her whole massive frame +shaking. + +"What is that drum-hide shouting about?" said Korableva, shaking her +head at the red-haired woman, and then again turning to Maslova. "How +many years?" + +"Four," said Maslova, and the flow of her tears was so copious that +one of them fell on the cigarette. She angrily crushed it, threw it +away and took another. + +The watch-woman, although she was no smoker, immediately picked up the +cigarette-end and began to straighten it, talking at the same time. + +"As I said to Matveievna, dear," she said, "it is ill-luck. They do +what they please. And we thought they would discharge you. Matveievna +said you would be discharged, and I said that you would not, I said. +'My heart tells me,' I said, 'that they will condemn her,' and so it +happened," she went on, evidently listening to the sounds of her own +voice with particular pleasure. + +The prisoners had now passed through the court-yard, and the four +women left the window and approached Maslova. The larged-eyed illicit +seller of spirits was the first to speak. + +"Well, is the sentence very severe?" she asked, seating herself near +Maslova and continuing to knit her stocking. + +"It is severe because she has no money. If she had money to hire a +good lawyer, I am sure they would not have held her," said Korableva. +"That lawyer--what's his name?--that clumsy, big-nosed one can, my +dear madam, lead one out of the water dry. That's the man you should +take." + +"To hire him!" grinned Miss Dandy. "Why, he would not look at you for +less than a thousand rubles." + +"It seems to be your fate," said the old woman who was charged with +incendiarism. "I should say he is severe! He drove my boy's wife from +her; put him in jail, and me, too, in my old age," for the hundredth +time she began to repeat her story. "Prison and poverty are our lot. +If it is not prison, it is poverty." + +"Yes, it is always the same with them," said the woman-moonshiner, +and, closely inspecting the girl's head, she put her stocking aside, +drew the girl over between her overhanging legs and with dexterous +fingers began to search in her head. "Why do you deal in wine? But I +have to feed my children," she said, continuing her search. + +These words reminded Maslova of wine. + +"Oh, for a drop of wine," she said to Korableva, wiping her tears with +the sleeve of her shirt and sobbing from time to time. + +"Some booze? Why, of course!" said Korableva. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + + +Maslova produced the money from one of the lunch-rolls and gave it to +Korableva, who climbed up to the draught-hole of the oven for a flask +of wine she had hidden there. Seeing which, those women who were not +her immediate neighbors went to their places. Meantime Maslova shook +the dust from her 'kerchief and coat, climbed up on her cot and began +to eat a roll. + +"I saved some tea for you, but I fear it is cold," said Theodosia, +bringing down from a shelf a pot, wrapped in a rag, and a tin cup. + +The beverage was perfectly cold, and tasted more of tin than of tea, +but Maslova poured out a cupful and began to drink. + +"Here, Finashka!" she called, and breaking a piece from the roll +thrust it toward the boy, who gazed at her open-mouthed. + +Korableva, meanwhile, brought the flask of wine. Maslova offered some +to Korableva and Miss Dandy. These three prisoners constituted the +aristocracy of the cell, because they had money and divided among +themselves what they had. + +In a few minutes Maslova became brighter and energetically began to +relate what had transpired at the court, mockingly imitating the +prosecutor and rehearsing such parts as had appealed to her most. She +was particularly impressed by the fact that the men paid considerable +attention to her wherever she went. In the court-room every one looked +at her, she said, and for that purpose constantly came into the +prisoners' room. + +"Even the guard said: 'It is to look at you that they come here.' Some +one would come and ask for some document or something, but I saw that +it was not for the document that he came. He would devour me with his +eyes," she said, smiling and shaking her head as if perplexed. "They +are good ones!" + +"Yes, that is how it is," chimed in the watch-woman in her melodious +voice. "They are like flies on sugar. If you needed them for any other +purpose, be sure they would not come so quickly. They know a good +thing when they see it." + +"It was the same here," interrupted Maslova. "As soon as I was brought +here I met with a party coming from the depot. They gave me no rest, +and I could hardly get rid of them. Luckily the warden drove them off. +One of them bothered me particularly." + +"How did he look?" asked Miss Dandy. + +"He had a dark complexion, and wore a mustache." + +"It is he." + +"Who?" + +"Stchegloff. He passed here just now." + +"Who is Stchegloff?" + +"She don't know Stchegloff! He twice escaped from Siberia. Now he has +been caught, but he will escape again. Even the officers fear him," +said Miss Dandy, who delivered notes to prisoners, and knew everything +that transpired in the jail. "He will surely escape." + +"If he does he won't take either of us with him," said Korableva. +"You'd better tell me this: What did the lawyer say to you about a +petition--you must send one now." + +Maslova said that she did not know anything about a petition. + +At this moment the red-haired woman, burying her two freckled hands +into her tangled, thick hair, and scratching her head with her nails, +approached the wine-drinking aristocrats. + +"I will tell you, Katherine, everything," she began. "First of all, +you must write on paper: 'I am not satisfied with the trial,' and then +hand it to the prosecutor." + +"What do you want here?" Korableva turned to her, speaking in an angry +basso. "You have smelled the wine! We know you. We don't need your +advice; we know what we have to do." + +"Who is talking to you?" + +"You want some wine--that's what you want." + +"Let her alone. Give her some," said Maslova, who always divided with +others what she had. + +"Yes, I will give her," and Korableva clenched her fist. + +"Try it! Try it!" moving toward Korableva, said the red-haired woman. +"I am not afraid of you." + +"You jail bird!" + +"You are another!" + +"You gutter rake!" + +"I am a rake--am I? You convict, murderess!" shrieked the red-haired +woman. + +"Go away, I tell you!" said Korableva frowning. + +But the red-haired woman only came nearer, and Korableva gave her a +push on the open, fat breast. The other seemingly only waited for +this, for with an unexpected, quick movement of one hand she seized +Korableva's hair and was about to strike her in the face with the +other, when Korableva seized this hand. Maslova and Miss Dandy sprang +up and took hold of the hands of the red-haired woman, endeavoring to +release her hold on Korableva, but the hand that clutched the hair +would not open. For a moment she released the hair, but only to wind +it around her fist. Korableva, her head bent, with one hand kept +striking her antagonist over the body and catching the latter's hand +with her teeth. The women crowded around the fighters, parting them +and shouting. Even the consumptive came near them, and, coughing, +looked on. The children huddled together and cried. The noise +attracted the warden and the matron. They were finally parted. +Korableva loosened her gray braid and began to pick out the pieces of +torn hair, while the other held the tattered remnant of her shirt to +her breast--both shouting, explaining and complaining against one +another. + +"I know it is the wine--I can smell it," said the matron. "I will tell +the superintendent to-morrow. Now, remove everything, or there will be +trouble. There is no time to listen to you. To your places, and be +silent!" + +But for a long time there was no silence. The women continued to curse +each other; they began to relate how it all commenced, and whose fault +it was. The warden and matron finally departed; the women quieted down +and took to their cots. The old woman stood up before the image and +began to pray. + +"Two Siberian convicts," suddenly said the red-haired woman in a +hoarse voice, accompanying every word with a torrent of abuse. + +"Look out, or you will get it again," quickly answered Korableva, +adding similar revilement. Then they became silent. + +"If they had not prevented me, I should have knocked out your eyes," +the red-haired one began again, and again came a quick and sharp +retort. + +Then came another interval of silence, followed by more abuse. The +intervals became longer and longer, and finally silence settled over +the cell. + +They were all falling asleep; some began to snore; only the old woman, +who always prayed for a long time, was still bowing before the image, +while the chanter's daughter, as soon as the matron left the cell, +came down from her cot and began to walk up and down the cell. + +Maslova was awake and incessantly thinking of herself as a convict, +the word which had been twice applied to her--once by Bochkova, and +again by the red-haired woman. She could not be reconciled to the +thought. Korableva, who was lying with her back turned toward Maslova, +turned around. + +"I never dreamed of such a thing," she said, in a low voice. "Others +commit heaven knows what crimes, and they go scot free, while I must +suffer for nothing." + +"Don't worry, girl. People live also in Siberia. You will not be lost +even there," Korableva consoled her. + +"I know that I will not be lost, but it is painful to be treated that +way. I deserved a better fate. I am used to a comfortable life." + +"You can do nothing against God's will," Korableva said, with a sigh. +"You can do nothing against His will." + +"I know, auntie, but it is hard, nevertheless." + +They became silent. + +"Listen to that wanton," said Korableva, calling Maslova's attention +to the strange sounds that came from the other end of the cell. + +These sounds were the suppressed sobbing of the red-haired woman. She +wept because she had just been abused, beaten, and got no wine, for +which she so yearned. She also wept because her whole life was one +round of abuse, scorn, insults and blows. She meant to draw some +consolation from the recollection of her first love for the factory +hand, Fedka Molodenkoff, but, recalling this first love, she also +recalled the manner of its ending. The end of it was that this +Molodenkoff, while in his cups, by way of jest, smeared her face with +vitriol, and afterward laughed with his comrades as he watched her +writhing in pain. She remembered this, and she pitied herself; and, +thinking that no one heard her, she began to weep, and wept like a +child--moaning, snuffling and swallowing salty tears. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + + +Nekhludoff rose the following morning with a consciousness that some +change had taken place within him, and before he could recall what it +was he already knew that it was good and important. + +"Katiousha--the trial. Yes, and I must stop lying, and tell all the +truth." And what a remarkable coincidence! That very morning finally +came the long-expected letter of Maria Vasilievna, the wife of the +marshal of the nobility--that same letter that he wanted so badly now. +She gave him his liberty and wished him happiness in his proposed +marriage. + +"Marriage!" he repeated ironically. "How far I am from it!" + +And his determination of the day before to tell everything to her +husband, to confess his sin before him, and to hold himself ready for +any satisfaction he might demand, came to his mind. But this morning +it did not seem to him so easy as it had yesterday. "And then, what is +the good of making a man miserable? If he asks me, I will tell him; +but to call on him specially for that purpose---- No, it is not +necessary." + +It seemed to him equally difficult this morning to tell all the truth +to Missy. He thought it would be offering an insult. It was +inevitable, as in all worldly affairs, that there should remain +something unexpressed but understood. One thing, however, he decided +upon this morning--that he would not go there, and would tell the +truth when asked. But in his relations toward Katiousha there was to +be nothing unsaid. + +"I will go to the jail--will tell her, beg of her to forgive me. And, +if necessary--yes, if necessary--I will marry her," he thought. + +The idea that for the sake of moral satisfaction he would sacrifice +everything and marry her this morning particularly affected him. + +It was a long time since he had risen with so much energy in him. When +Agrippina Petrovna entered his room he declared to her with a +determination which he himself did not expect, that he had no further +need of the house, and that he would dispense with her services. There +was a tacit understanding that the large house was kept up for his +contemplated marriage. The closing up of the house consequently had +some particular significance. Agrippina Petrovna looked at him with +surprise. + +"I thank you very much, Agrippina Petrovna, for your solicitude in my +behalf, but I do not now need such a large house, or any of the +servants. If you wish to help me, then be so kind as to pack away the +things as you used to do in mamma's lifetime. Natasha will dispose of +them when she arrives." Natasha was Nekhludoff's sister. + +Agrippina Petrovna shook her head. + +"Dispose of them? Why, they will be needed," she said. + +"No, they will not, Agrippina Petrovna--they will positively not be +needed," said Nekhludoff, answering what she meant by shaking his +head. "Please tell Kornei that his salary will be paid for two months +in advance, but that I do not need him." + +"You are wrong in doing this, Dmitri Ivanovich," she said. "You will +need a house even if you go abroad." + +"You misunderstand me, Agrippina Petrovna. I will not go abroad, and +if I do go, it will be to an entirely different place." + +His face suddenly turned a purple color. + +"Yes, it is necessary to tell her," he thought. "I must tell all to +everybody. + +"A very strange and important thing has happened to me. Do you +remember Katiousha, who lived with Aunt Maria Ivanovna?" + +"Of course; I taught her to sew." + +"Well, then, she was tried in court yesterday, and I was one of the +jury." + +"Ah, good Lord! what a pity!" said Agrippina Petrovna. "What was she +tried for?" + +"Murder, and it was all caused by me." + +"How could you have caused it? You are talking very strangely," said +Agrippina Petrovna, and fire sparkled in her old eyes. + +She knew of the incident with Katiousha. + +"Yes, it is my fault. And this causes me to change my plans." + +"What change can this cause in your plans?" said Agrippina Petrovna, +suppressing a smile. + +"This: That since it was through my fault that she is in her present +condition, I consider it my duty to help her to the extent of my +ability." + +"That is your affair, but I cannot see that you are so much in fault. +It happens to everybody, and if one is guided by common sense the +matter is usually arranged and forgotten, and one lives on like the +rest of the world," said Agrippina Petrovna, sternly and seriously. +"There is no reason why you should take it so much to heart. I heard +long ago that she had gone to the bad, so whose fault is it?" + +"It is my fault, and that is why I wish to make amends." + +"Well, it is hard to set that right." + +"That is my affair. If you are thinking of yourself, then that which +mother wished----" + +"I am not thinking of myself. Your deceased mother showed me so many +favors that I do not desire anything. My niece, Lizauka, wishes me to +come to her, so I will go as soon as you need me no longer. Only you +are taking it too much to heart; it happens with everybody." + +"Well, I do not think so. I still ask you to help me rent the house +and pack away the things. And do not be angry with me. I am very, very +thankful to you for everything." + +It is remarkable that since Nekhludoff understood that he was +disgusted with himself, others ceased to be repulsive to him. On the +contrary, he had a kindly and respectful feeling for Agrippina +Petrovna and Kornei. He wished to confess also before Kornei, but the +latter was so impressively respectful that he could not make up his +mind to do it. + +On his way to the court, passing along the familiar streets and in the +same carriage, Nekhludoff was himself surprised what a different man +he felt himself to-day. + +His marriage to Missy, which but yesterday seemed to be so near, +to-day appeared to him absolutely impossible. Yesterday he understood +his position to be such that there could be no doubt that she would be +happy to marry him; to-day he felt himself unworthy not only of +marrying her, but of being her friend. "If she only knew who I was, +she would never receive me, and yet I taunted her with coquetting with +that gentleman. But no, even if she married me I should never have +peace, even though I were happy, while that one is in jail, and may +any day be sent under escort to Siberia. While the woman whom I have +ruined is tramping the weary road to penal servitude, I will be +receiving congratulations, and paying visits with my young wife. Or I +will be counting the votes for and against school inspection, etc., +with the marshal, whom I have shamefully deceived, and afterward make +appointments with his wife (what abomination!). Or I will work on my +picture, which will, evidently, never be finished, for I had no +business to occupy myself with such trifles. And I can do neither of +these things now," he said to himself, happy at the inward change +which he felt. + +"First of all," he thought, "I must see the lawyer, and then--then see +her in jail--the convict of yesterday--and tell her everything." + +And when he thought how he would see her, confess his guilt before +her, how he would declare to her that he would do everything in his +power, marry her in order to wipe out his guilt, he became +enraptured, and tears filled his eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + + +Arriving at the court-house, Nekhludoff met the usher in the corridor +and asked him where the prisoners already sentenced were kept, and +from whom permission could be obtained to see them. The usher told him +that the prisoners were kept in various places, and that before final +judgment the public prosecutor was the only person from whom +permission to see them could be obtained. "The prosecutor has not +arrived yet; when he does I will let you know, and will escort you +myself to him after the session. And now, please to walk into the +court. The session is commencing." + +Nekhludoff thanked the usher, who seemed to him particularly pitiful +to-day, and went into the jury-room. + +As Nekhludoff was approaching the jury-room his fellow jurors were +coming out, repairing to the court-room. The merchant was as cheerful, +had lunched as well as yesterday, and greeted Nekhludoff like an old +friend. The loud laughter and familiarity of Peter Gerasimovitch did +not give rise to-day in Nekhludoff of the unpleasant sensation of +yesterday. + +Nekhludoff wished to tell all the jurymen of his relations to the +woman whom they had convicted yesterday. "It would have been proper," +he thought, "yesterday to rise in court and publicly confess my +guilt." But when with the other jurymen he entered the court-room and +witnessed the same procedure, the same "Hear ye! Hear ye!" the three +judges in high collars on the elevation, the silence, the seating of +the jury on high-backed chairs, the gendarmes, the priest--he felt +that, though it was necessary to do it, he would not have been able +even yesterday to break this solemnity. + +They went through the same preliminaries, except the swearing in of +the jury and the justiciary's speech to them. + +A case of burglary was before the court. The prisoner, who was guarded +by two gendarmes with unsheathed swords, was a twenty-year-old boy +with a bloodless face and in a gray coat. He sat alone on the +prisoners' bench and scanned from under his eyebrows all those that +entered the court-room. This boy and another were charged with +breaking the lock of a shed and stealing therefrom mats of the value +of three rubles and sixty-seven kopecks. It appeared from the +indictment that a policeman caught the boy when he was walking with +the other, who carried the mats on his shoulder. Both of them +immediately confessed, and they were put in jail. The comrade of this +boy, a locksmith, died in jail, and he was tried alone. The old mats +lay on the table reserved for exhibits. + +The case was conducted in the same order as yesterday, with all the +proofs, witnesses, experts, oath-taking, examinations and +cross-examinations. The policeman, when questioned by the justiciary, +complainant and the defense, made listless answers--"Yes, sir," "Can't +tell," and again "Yes, sir"--but notwithstanding this, it was apparent +that he pitied the boy and testified involuntarily against him. + +Another witness, a splenetic old man who owned those mats, when asked +if they belonged to him, unwillingly testified that they were his. +When, however, the prosecutor asked him what use he intended to make +of them, and whether he needed them much, he became angry and +answered: "I wish they had been lost entirely, these mats. I don't +need them at all. And if I had known that you would make so much fuss +about them, I would gladly have given ten rubles, or twenty, rather +than be dragged into court. I have spent five rubles on carriages +coming here and going back again. And I am sick; I am suffering from +rupture and rheumatism." + +The prisoner admitted the charge against him, and, like a trapped +animal, stupidly looked now to one side, now to the other, and in a +halting voice related everything as it happened. + +It was a clear case, but the prosecutor, as he did yesterday, raised +his shoulders and propounded subtle questions which were calculated to +entrap the clever criminal. + +In his speech he argued that the theft was committed in a +dwelling-house by breaking and entering it, and that therefore the +severest punishment should be meted out to him. + +Counsel for the defense, appointed by the court, argued that the +theft was committed not in a dwelling-house, and that, though the +prisoner pleaded guilty, he was not as dangerous to society as the +prosecutor would have them believe. + +The justiciary was the personification of impartiality and justice, +and endeavored to impress on the jury that which they already knew and +could not help knowing. Again they took recesses and smoked +cigarettes, and again the usher shouted "Hear ye!" and the two +gendarmes sat trying to keep awake. + +It developed during the trial that this boy had been apprenticed in a +tobacco factory, in which he worked five years. This year he was +discharged by his employer after a misunderstanding with the +employees, and, going idly about the city, he spent all he had on +drink. At an inn he met a locksmith who had also been discharged and +was drinking hard, and the two went at night, while drunk, to that +shed, broke the lock, and took the first thing they saw. They were +caught, and as they confessed they were imprisoned. The locksmith, +while waiting for a trial, died. The boy was now being tried as a +dangerous creature from whom it was necessary to protect society. + +"As dangerous a creature as the prisoner of yesterday," Nekhludoff +thought while watching the proceedings. "They are dangerous, but are +we not dangerous? I am a libertine, an impostor; and all of us, all +those that know me as I am, not only do not detest but respect me." + +It is evident that this boy is no villain, but a very ordinary +person--every one sees that--and that he became what he is only +because he lived amid conditions that beget such people. It is +therefore plain that such boys will exist as long as the conditions +producing these unfortunates remain unchanged. If any one had taken +pity on this boy, Nekhludoff thought while looking at the sickly, +frightened face of the boy, before want had driven him from the +village to the city, and relieved that want, or, when, after twelve +hours' work in the factory, he was visiting inns with grown-up +comrades, some one had told him, "Don't go, Vania; it is bad," the boy +would not have gone, or got drunk, and the burglary would never have +occurred. + +But no one pitied the boy during the time that he, like an animal, +spent his school years in the city, and, with close-cropped hair, to +prevent his getting vermin, ran errands for the workmen. On the +contrary, the only thing he had heard from the workmen and his +comrades was to the effect that a brave fellow was he who cheated, +drank, reviled, fought, or led a depraved life. + +And when, sickly and depraved from the unhealthy work, from drink and +lewdness, foolish and capricious, he aimlessly prowled around the +city, as in a dream, entered some shed and abstracted a few worthless +mats, then, instead of destroying the causes that led this boy into +his present condition, we intend to mend matters by punishing him! + +It is dreadful! + +Thus Nekhludoff thought, and no longer listened to what was going on +around him. He was himself terrified at this revelation. He wondered +why he had not seen it before--how others failed to see it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + + +As soon as the first recess was taken, Nekhludoff rose and went out of +the court, intending to return no more. They might do with him what +they pleased, but he could no longer take part in that farce. + +Having inquired where the prosecutor's room was, he directed his steps +toward that dignitary. The messenger would not admit him, declaring +that the prosecutor was busy, but Nekhludoff brushed past him and +asked an officer who met him to announce him to the prosecutor, saying +that he was on important business. His title and dress helped +Nekhludoff. The officer announced him, and he was admitted. The +prosecutor received him standing, evidently dissatisfied with +Nekhludoff's persistence in seeking an audience with him. + +"What do you wish?" the prosecutor asked, sternly. + +"I am a juryman, my name is Nekhludoff, and I want to see the +prisoner Maslova," he said, resolutely and quickly. He blushed, and +felt that his act would have a decisive influence on his life. + +The prosecutor was a tall, swarthy man with short hair just turning +gray, bright eyes and a trimmed, bushy beard on the protruding lower +jaw. + +"Maslova? Yes, I know her. She was charged with poisoning," he said +calmly. "Why do you want to see her?" And then, as if desiring to +soften his harsh demeanor, he added: "I cannot give you the permission +before I know what you want to see her for." + +"It is very important for me to see her," Nekhludoff burst out. + +"I see," said the prosecutor, and, raising his eyes, looked intently +at Nekhludoff. "Has her case been tried?" + +"She was tried yesterday and sentenced to four years' penal servitude. +The conviction was irregular; she is innocent." + +"I see. If she has only been sentenced yesterday," said the prosecutor +without paying attention to Nekhludoff's declaration about her +innocence, "then she will be detained until final judgment in the +place where she is now. The jail is open to visitors on certain days +only. I advise you to apply there." + +"But I must see her as soon as possible," with trembling lower jaw +Nekhludoff said, feeling that a critical moment was approaching. + +"Why are you so anxious about seeing her?" the prosecutor asked, +raising his eyebrows with some alarm. + +"Because she is innocent of the crime for which she was sentenced to +penal servitude. The guilt is mine, not hers," Nekhludoff said in a +trembling voice, feeling that he was saying what he should not. + +"How so?" asked the prosecutor. + +"I deceived her, and brought her to the condition in which she is now. +If I had not driven her to the position in which she was, she would +not have been charged here with such a crime." + +"Still I fail to see what all this has to do with visiting her." + +"It has, because I want to follow her and--marry her," said +Nekhludoff. And, as it usually happened when he spoke of this, his +eyes filled with tears. + +[Illustration: THE PRISONERS.] + +"Ah, is that so?" said the prosecutor. "This is really an exceptional +case. Are you not a member of the Krasnopersk town council?" asked the +prosecutor, as if recalling that he had heard of this Nekhludoff who +was now making such a strange statement. + +"Excuse me, but I fail to see what this has to do with my request," +fuming, Nekhludoff answered with rancor. + +"Nothing, of course," the prosecutor said, with a faint smile on his +face, and not in the least disturbed. "But your request is so unusual +and beside all customary forms----" + +"Well, can I get the permission?" + +"Permission? Why, yes. I will give you a pass immediately. Please be +seated." + +He went to the table, sat down and began to write. + +"Please be seated." + +Nekhludoff stood still. + +When he had made out the pass the prosecutor handed it to Nekhludoff +and eyed him with curiosity. + +"I must also tell you," said Nekhludoff, "that I cannot continue to +serve as juror." + +"As you know, satisfactory reasons must be given to the court in such +cases." + +"The reasons are that I consider all courts useless and immoral." + +"I see," said the prosecutor, with the same faint smile which seemed +to indicate that such statements were familiar to him, and belonged to +an amusing class of people well known to him. "I see, but you +understand that, as public prosecutor, I cannot agree with you. I +therefore advise you to state so to the court, which will either find +your reasons satisfactory or unsatisfactory, and in the latter case +will impose a fine on you. Apply to the court." + +"I have already stated my reasons, and I will not go there," +Nekhludoff said angrily. + +"I have the honor to salute you," said the prosecutor, bowing, +evidently desiring to rid himself of the strange visitor. + +"Who was the man that just left your room?" asked one of the judges +who entered the prosecutor's cabinet after Nekhludoff had left. + +"Nekhludoff. You know, the one who made such strange suggestions in +the Krasnopersk town council. Just imagine, he is on the jury, and +among the prisoners there was a woman, or girl, who was sentenced to +penal servitude, and who, he says, was deceived by him. And now he +wishes to marry her." + +"It is impossible!" + +"That is what he told me. And how strangely excited he was!" + +"There is something wrong with our young men." + +"He is not so very young." + +"What a bore your famous Ivasheukoff is, my dear! He wins his cases by +tiring us out--there is no end to his talking." + +"They must be curbed, or they become real obstructionists." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + + +From the public prosecutor Nekhludoff went straight to the +detention-house. But no one by the name of Maslova was there. The +inspector told him that she might be found in the old temporary +prison. Nekhludoff went there and found that Katherine Moslova was one +of the inmates. + +The distance between the detention-house and the old prison was great, +and Nekhludoff did not arrive there until toward evening. He was about +to open the door of the huge, gloomy building, when the guard stopped +him and rang the bell. The warden responded to the bell. Nekhludoff +showed the pass, but the warden told him that he could not be admitted +without authority from the inspector. While climbing the stairs to the +inspector's dwelling, Nekhludoff heard the sounds of an intricate +bravura played on the piano. And when the servant, with a handkerchief +tied around one eye, opened the door, a flood of music dazed his +senses. It was a tiresome rhapsody by Lizst, well played, but only to +a certain place. When that place was reached, the melody repeated +itself. Nekhludoff asked the servant if the inspector was in. + +The servant said that he was not. + +"Will he be in soon?" + +The rhapsody again ceased, and with a noisy flourish again repeated +itself. + +"I will go and inquire." And the servant went away. + +The rhapsody again went on at full speed, when suddenly, reaching a +certain point, it came to a stand-still and a voice from within was +heard. + +"Tell him that he is not home, and will not come to-day. He is +visiting--why do they bother us?" a woman's voice was heard to say, +and the rhapsody continued, then ceased, and the sound of a chair +moved back was heard. The angry pianist herself evidently wished to +reprimand the importunate visitor who came at such a late hour. + +"Papa is not home," angrily said a pale, wretched looking girl with +puffed-up hair and blue spots under her eyes, who came to the door. +Seeing a young man in a good overcoat, she became calm. "Walk in, +please. What do you wish to see him for?" + +"I would like to see a prisoner. I hold a pass from the prosecutor." + +"Well, I don't know; papa is not in. Why, walk in, please," she again +called from the entrance hall. "Or apply to his assistant, who is now +in the office. You may talk to him. And what is your name?" + +"Thank you," said Nekhludoff, without answering the question, and went +away. + +Scarcely had the door closed when the same vigorous, merry sound, so +inappropriate to the place and so persistently rehearsed by the +wretched girl, was heard. In the court-yard Nekhludoff met a young +officer with a stiff, dyed mustache, of whom he inquired for the +assistant. He himself was the assistant. He took the pass, looked at +it, and said that he could not admit any one to the prison on a pass +for the detention-house. Besides, it was late. + +"At ten o'clock to-morrow the prison is open to all visitors, and the +inspector will be here. You could then see her in the common +reception-room, or, if the inspector permits it, in the office." + +So, without gaining an interview, Nekhludoff returned home. Agitated +by the expectation of seeing her, he walked along the streets, +thinking not of the court, but of his conversations with the +prosecutor and the inspectors. That he was seeking an interview with +her, and told the prosecutor of his intention, and visited two prisons +preparing for the ordeal, had so excited him that he could not calm +down. On returning home he immediately brought forth his unused diary, +read some parts and made the following entry: "For two years I have +kept no diary, and thought that I should never again return to this +childishness. But it was no childishness, but a discourse with myself, +with that true, divine _I_ which lives in every man. All this time +this _I_ was slumbering and I had no one to discourse with. It was +awakened by the extraordinary event of the 28th of April, in court, +where I sat as jurymen. I saw her, Katiousha, whom I had deceived, on +the prisoners' bench, in a prison coat. Through a strange +misunderstanding and my mistake, she was sentenced to penal servitude. +I have just returned from the prosecutor and the prison. I was not +permitted to see her, but I am determined to do anything to see her, +acknowledge my guilt and make reparation even by marrying her. Lord, +help me! My soul is rejoicing." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + + +For a long time that night Maslova lay awake with open eyes, and, +looking at the door, mused. + +She was thinking that under no circumstances would she marry a convict +on the island of Saghalin, but would settle down some other way--with +some inspector, or clerk, or even the warden, or an assistant. They +are all eager for such a thing. "Only I must not get thin. Otherwise I +am done for." And she recalled how she was looked at by her lawyer, +the justiciary--in fact, everybody in the court-room. She recalled how +Bertha, who visited her in prison, told her that the student, whom she +loved while she was an inmate at Kitaeva's, inquired about her and +expressed his regrets when told of her condition. She recalled the +fight with the red-haired woman, and pitied her. She called to mind +the baker who sent her an extra lunch roll, and many others, but not +Nekhludoff. Of her childhood and youth, and especially of her love for +Nekhludoff, she never thought. That was too painful. These +recollections were hidden deeply in her soul. She never saw Nekhludoff +even in a dream. She failed to recognize him in court, not so much +because when she last saw him he was an army officer, beardless, with +small mustache and thick, short hair, while now he was no longer young +in appearance, and wore a beard, but more because she never thought of +him. She had buried all recollections of her past relations with him +in that terrible dark night when, on his return from the army, he +visited his aunts. + +Up to that night, while she hoped for his return, the child which she +bore under her heart was not irksome to her. But from that night +forward everything changed, and the coming child was only a hindrance. + +The aunts had asked Nekhludoff to stop off at their station and call +on them, but he wired that he would not be able to do it, as he had to +reach St. Petersburg in time. When Katiousha learned this, she decided +to go to the railroad station to see him. The train was to pass at two +o'clock in the morning. Katiousha helped the ladies to bed, and, +having induced the cook's girl, Mashka, to accompany her, she put on +an old pair of shoes, threw a shawl over her head, gathered up her +skirts and ran to the station. + +It was a dark, rainy, windy, autumn night. The rain now poured down in +large, warm drops, now ceased. The road could not be distinguished in +the field, and it was pitch dark in the woods. Although Katiousha was +familiar with the road she lost her way in the woods, and reached a +sub-station, where the train only stopped for three minutes. Running +on the platform, she espied Nekhludoff through the window of a +first-class car. The car was brightly illuminated. Two officers sat on +plush seats playing cards. On the table near the window two thick +candles were burning. Nekhludoff sat on the arm of the seat, his elbow +resting on the back, laughing. As soon as she recognized him she +tapped on the window with her cold hand. But at that moment the third +bell rang, and the train began to move, the cars jostling each other +forward. One of the players rose with the cards in his hands and began +to look through the window. She tapped again, and pressed her face +against the window-pane. At that moment the car beside which she stood +was tugged forward, and it moved along. She ran alongside, looking in +the window. The officer tried to lower the window, but could not. +Nekhludoff rose, and, pushing the officer aside, began lowering it. +The train went faster, so that Katiousha was obliged to run. The train +moved still faster when the window was lowered. At that moment the +conductor pushed her aside and jumped on the car. She fell back, but +continued to run along the wet boards of the platform, and when she +reached the end of the platform and began to descend the steps to the +ground, she almost fell exhausted. The first-class car was far ahead +of her, and while she was running the second-class cars passed her, +then came with greater speed those of the third class. When the last +car with the lanterns flew by her she was already beyond the +water-tank, unsheltered from the wind which lashed her, blowing the +shawl from her head and tangling her feet in her skirt. But still she +ran on. + +"Aunt Michaelovna!" shouted the little girl, "you have lost your +shawl." + +Katiousha stopped, threw back her head, and, covering her face with +her hands, began to sob. + +"He is gone!" she cried. + +"While he is in a lighted car, sitting on a plush seat, jesting and +drinking, I stand here in the mud, rain and wind, crying," she +thought. She sat down on the ground and began to sob aloud. The little +girl was frightened, and, embracing her wet clothing, she said: + +"Auntie, let's go home." + +"I will wait for the next train, throw myself under the wheels, and +that will end it all," Katiousha was meanwhile thinking, not heeding +the girl. + +She made up her mind to carry out her intention. But as it always +happens in the first moment of calm after a period of agitation, the +child, _his_ child, suddenly shuddered. Immediately all that which so +tortured her that she was willing to die, all her wrath and her +desire to revenge herself even by death, passed. She became calm, +arranged her clothing, put the shawl on her head, and went away. + +She returned home exhausted, wet and muddy. From that day began in her +that spiritual transformation which ended in her present condition. +From that terrible night on she ceased to believe in God and in +goodness. Before that night she herself believed in God, and believed +that other people believed in Him; but after that night she became +convinced that no one believed, and all that was said of God and His +law was false and wrong. The one whom she loved, and who loved +her--she knew it--abandoned her and made sport of her feelings. And he +was the best of all the men she knew. All the others were even worse. +This she saw confirmed in all that had happened. His aunts, pious old +ladies, drove her out when she was no longer as useful as she used to +be. All the women with whom she came in contact tried to make money by +her; the men, beginning with the commissary and down to the prison +officers, all looked upon her as a means of pleasure. The whole world +was after pleasure. Her belief in this was strengthened by the old +author whom she met during the second year of her independent life. He +had told her frankly that this--he called it poetical and esthetic--is +all of life's happiness. + +Every one lived for himself only, for his own pleasure, and all the +words about God and goodness were deception. And if the questions +sometimes occurred to her, Why were the affairs of the world so ill +arranged that people harm each other, and all suffer, she thought it +best not to dwell on it. If she became lonesome, she took a drink, +smoked a cigarette, and the feeling would pass away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + + +When at five o'clock the following morning, which was Sunday, the +customary whistle blew, Korableva, who was already awake, roused +Maslova. + +"A convict," Maslova thought with horror, rubbing her eyes and +involuntarily inhaling the foul morning air. She wished to fall +asleep again, to transfer herself into a state of unconsciousness, but +fear overcame her drowsiness. She raised herself, crossed her legs +under her, and looked around. The women were already up, only the +children were still sleeping. The moonshining woman with bulging eyes +was carefully removing her coat from under them. The rioter was drying +near the oven some rags which served for swaddling cloths, while the +child, in the hands of the blue-eyed Theodosia, was crying at the top +of its lungs, the woman lulling it in a gentle voice. The consumptive, +seizing her breast, coughed violently, and, sighing at intervals, +almost screamed. The red-headed woman lay prone on her back relating a +dream she had had. The old incendiary stood before the image, +whispering the same words, crossing herself and bowing. The chanter's +daughter sat motionless on her cot, and with dull, half-open eyes was +looking into space. Miss Dandy was curling on her finger her oily, +rough, black hair. + +Presently resounding steps were heard in the corridor, the lock +creaked open, and two prisoners in short jackets and gray trousers +scarcely reaching their ankles entered, and, raising the ill-smelling +vat on a yoke, carried it away. The women went to the faucets in the +corridor to wash themselves. The red-headed woman got into a quarrel +with a woman from the adjoining cell. Again there were cursing, +shouting and complaints. + +"You will get into the dark-room yet," shouted the warden, and he +slapped the red-headed woman on her fat, bare back, so that it +resounded through the entire corridor. "Don't let me hear you again." + +"Fooling again, you old man?" she said, treating it as a caress. + +"Hurry up! It is time for mass." + +Scarcely had Maslova arranged her hair when the inspector entered with +his attendants. + +"Make ready for inspection!" shouted the warden. + +The women of the two cells formed in two rows along the corridor, +those of the back row placing their hands on the shoulders of the +women in the front row. Then they were counted. + +After the count came the woman inspector and led the prisoners to the +church. Maslova and Theodosia were in the middle of the column, which +consisted of over a hundred women from all the cells. They all had +white 'kerchiefs on their heads, and some few wore their own colored +dresses. These were the wives and children of convicts. The procession +covered the whole stairway. A soft clatter of prison shoes was heard, +here and there some conversation, and sometimes laughter. At a turn +Maslova noticed the malicious face of her enemy, Bochkova, who was +walking in the front row, and pointed her out to Theodosia. At the +foot of the stairs the women became silent, and, making the sign of +the cross and bowing, they filed into the open door of the empty, +gold-bedecked chapel. Their place was on the right, where, crowding +each other, they began to arrange themselves in rows, standing. Behind +the women came the male convicts who were serving terms or detained +for transportation under sentence by the communities. Loudly clearing +their throats, they formed a dense crowd on the left and the middle of +the chapel. Above, on the gallery, were other convicts with heads half +shaven, whose presence was manifested by a clanking of chains. + +This prison chapel had been rebuilt and remodeled by a rich merchant, +who had spent about thirty thousand rubles on it, and it was all +ornamented with gilt and bright colors. + +For a few seconds there was silence, which was broken only by the +blowing of noses, coughing, and clanking of chains. Suddenly the +prisoners who stood in the middle began to press back, making a +passage for the inspector, who walked to the middle of the chapel, and +the services commenced. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + + +Nekhludoff left the house early. A peasant was driving along a side +alley, shouting in a strange voice: "Milk! milk! milk!" + +The first warm, spring rain had fallen the evening before. Wherever +there was a patch of unpaved ground the green grass burst forth; the +lindens were covered with green nap; the fowl-cherry and poplar +unfolded their long, fragrant leaves. In the market-place, through +which Nekhludoff had to pass, dense crowds in rags swarmed before the +tents, some carrying boots under their arms, others smoothly pressed +trousers and vests on their shoulders. + +The working people were already crowding near the traktirs +(tea-houses), the men in clean, long coats gathered in folds in the +back of the waist, and in shining boots; the women in bright-colored +silk shawls and cloaks with glass-bead trimmings. Policemen, with +pistols attached to yellow cords fastened around their waists, stood +at their posts. Children and dogs played on the grass-plots, and gay +nurses sat chatting on the benches. + +On the streets, the left sides of which were yet cool, moist and +shady, heavy carts and light cabs rumbled and jostled, the tram-cars +rang their bells. The air was agitated by the pealing of the +church-bells summoning the people to mass. + +The driver stopped at a turn some distance from the prison. A few men +and women stood around, most of them with bundles in their hands. To +the right stood a few frame houses; to the left a two-story building +over which hung a large sign. The large prison itself was directly in +front. An armed soldier walked to and fro challenging every one +attempting to pass him. + +At the gate of the frame buildings sat the warden in uniform, with an +entry booklet in his hand. He made entries of visitors and those whom +they wished to see. Nekhludoff approached him, gave his name and that +of Moslova, and the officer entered them in his book. + +"Why don't they open the door?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"The morning service is on. As soon as it is over you will be +admitted." + +Nekhludoff returned among the waiting crowd. + +A man in threadbare clothing, rumpled hat and slippers on his bare +feet, and his face full of red lines, pushed his way through the crowd +and walked toward the prison door. + +"Where are you going?" shouted the soldier. + +"What are you bawling about?" answered the man, entirely undisturbed +by the soldier's challenge. "If I can't go in, I will wait. No use +bawling as if you were a general." + +The crowd laughed approvingly. Most of the visitors were poorly +dressed, even ragged, but, judging by outward appearance, there were +also some decent men and women among them. Beside Nekhludoff stood a +well-dressed man, clean shaven, stout and with rosy cheeks, who +carried a bundle of what looked like linen. Nekhludoff asked him if +that was his first visit. The man answered that he came there every +Sunday, and they entered into conversation. He was an employee of a +bank, whose brother was under indictment for forgery. This +kind-hearted man told Nekhludoff all his story, and was about to ask +him about his own when their attention was attracted by a rubber-tired +carriage drawn by a blooded chestnut horse. The carriage was occupied +by a student and a lady whose face was hidden under a veil. The +student alighted, holding in his hand a large bundle. He approached +Nekhludoff and asked him where and how he should deliver the loaves of +bread he had brought for the prisoners. "I brought them at the request +of my bride. That is my bride. Her parents advised us to bring some +alms for the prisoners." + +"I really don't know, for I am here for the first time, but I think +that that officer will tell you," said Nekhludoff, pointing to the +warden in the crown-laced uniform. + +While Nekhludoff was talking to the student the large iron gate of the +prison opened and a uniformed officer with another warden came out. +The one with the booklet in his hand announced that the prison was +open for visitors. The guard stood aside, and all the visitors, as if +fearing to be late, with quick step, and some even running, pressed +toward the prison gate. One of the wardens stationed himself at the +gate, and in a loud voice counted the passing visitors--16, 17, 18, +etc. The other warden, within the gate, touching each with his hand, +also counted the visitors as they entered another door. This was to +make sure that at their departure no visitor remained in prison, and +no prisoner made his way out. The tallying officer, without regard to +the person of the visitor, slapped Nekhludoff on the back. This at +first offended the latter, but he immediately remembered his mission, +and he became ashamed that his feelings should be thus wounded. + +The second door opened into a large, vaulted room with small +iron-grated windows. In this room, which was called the meeting-room, +Nekhludoff saw in a niche a large image of the Crucifixion. + +Nekhludoff went on slowly, letting the hurrying visitors pass before, +and experienced a mingled feeling of horror at the malefactors +imprisoned in this jail, compassion for those innocent people who, +like the boy and Katiousha, must be here, and timidity and tenderness +before the meeting that was before him. When he reached the end of the +room the warden said something, but Nekhludoff, who was absorbed in +his thoughts, paid no attention to it, and followed in the direction +led by the crowd, that is, to the men's ward instead of the women's. + +Letting the hurrying visitors pass, he walked into the next room +designated for interviews. On opening the door he was struck by the +deafening shouts of a hundred throats turned into a continuous humming +noise. Only as he neared the people, who, like flies swarming on sugar +pressed their faces against a net which divided the room in two, did +Nekhludoff understand the cause of the noise. This room with windows +in the rear wall was divided in two not by one, but by two wire nets +which stretched from the ceiling to the floor. Two wardens walked +between the nets. The prisoners were on the other side of the nets, +between which there was a space of about seven feet for visitors, so +that not only was it difficult to converse with them but a +short-sighted man could not even see the face of the prisoner he was +visiting. In order to be heard, it was necessary to shout at the top +of one's voice. On both sides, pressing against the nets, were the +faces of wives, husbands, fathers, mothers, children, who endeavored +to see and speak to each other. But as every one tried to speak so +that he could be heard by the person spoken to, and his neighbor did +the same, their voices interfered with each other, and each tried to +outcry the other. The result was the noise which astonished Nekhludoff +when he entered the room. It was absolutely impossible to understand +the conversations. Only by the expression of the people's faces could +one judge what they were speaking about, and what relation the +speakers sustained toward each other. Near Nekhludoff was an old woman +with a small 'kerchief on her head, who, with trembling chin, shouted +to a pale young man with head half shaven. The prisoner, knitting his +brow, was listening to her with raised eyebrows. Beside the old woman +stood a young man in a long coat, who was nodding his head while +listening to a prisoner with a weary face and beard turning gray, who +greatly resembled him. Further on stood a ragamuffin waving his hand, +shouting and laughing. On the floor beside this man sat a woman in a +good woolen dress, with a child in her arms. She wept bitterly, +evidently seeing for the first time that gray-haired man on the other +side of the net, manacled, in a prison jacket, and with head half +shaven. Over this woman stood the bank employee shouting at the top of +his voice to a bald-headed prisoner with shining eyes. + +Nekhludoff remained in this room about five minutes, experiencing a +strange feeling of anguish, a consciousness of his impotence at the +discord in the world, and he was seized with a sensation like a +rocking on board of a ship. + +"But I must fulfill my mission," he said to himself, taking heart. +"What am I to do?" + +As he looked around for some officer, he saw a middle-sized man with +mustache, wearing epaulets, who was walking behind the crowd. + +"Sir, could you not tell me where the women are kept, and where it is +permitted to see them?" he asked, making a particular effort to be +polite. + +"You wish to go to the women's ward?" + +"Yes; I would like to see one of the women prisoners," Nekhludoff +said, with the same strained politeness. + +"You should have said so in the meeting-room. Whom do you wish to see, +then?" + +"I wish to see Katherine Maslova." + +"Has she been sentenced?" + +"Yes, she was sentenced the other day," he said humbly, as if fearing +to ruffle the temper of the officer, who seemed to be interested in +him. + +"Then this way, please," said the inspector, who had evidently +decided from Nekhludoff's appearance that he deserved attention. +"Sidoroff!" he turned to a warrant-officer wearing a mustache, and +medals on his breast. "Show this gentleman to the women's ward." + +"All right, sir." + +At that moment heart-rending cries came from the direction of the +grating. + +All this seemed strange to Nekhludoff, and strangest of all was that +he was obliged to thank and feel himself under obligation to the +inspector and warden. + +The warden led Nekhludoff from the men's ward into the corridor, and +through the open door opposite admitted him to the women's +meeting-room. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + + +This room, like the one in the men's ward, was also divided in three, +by two nets, but it was considerably smaller. There were also fewer +visitors and fewer prisoners, but the noise was as great as in the +men's room. Here, also, the authorities stood guard between the nets. +The authorities were here represented by a matron in uniform with +crown-laced sleeves and fringed with blue braid and a belt of the same +color. Here, too, people pressed against the nets--in the +passage--city folks in divers dresses; behind the nets, female +prisoners, some in white, others in their own dresses. The whole net +was lined with people. Some stood on tip-toe, speaking over the heads +of others; others, again, sat on the floor and conversed. + +The most remarkable of the women prisoners, both in her shouting and +appearance, was a thin, ragged gipsy, with a 'kerchief which had +slipped from her head, who stood almost in the middle of the room, +near a post, behind the net, gesticulating and shouting to a short and +tightly belted gipsy in a blue coat. A soldier sat beside him on the +floor, talking to a prisoner. Beyond stood a young peasant with a +light beard and in bast shoes, pressing his flushed face to the net, +evidently with difficulty suppressing his tears. He was talking to a +pretty, light-haired prisoner who gazed at him with her bright, blue +eyes. This was Theodosia, with her husband. Beside them stood a tramp, +who was talking to a disheveled, broad-faced woman. Further on there +were two women, a man, and again a woman, and opposite each was a +prisoner. Maslova was not among them. But behind the prisoners stood +another woman. Nekhludoff felt the beating of his heart increasing and +his breath failing him. The decisive moment was approaching. He neared +the net and recognized Katiousha. She stood behind the blue-eyed +Theodosia, and, smiling, listened to her conversation. She did not +wear the prison coat, but a white waist, tightly belted, and rising +high above the breast. As in the court, her black hair hung in curls +over her 'kerchiefed forehead. + +"It will all be over in a moment," he thought. "Shall I address her, +or shall I wait till she addresses me?" + +But she did not address him. She was waiting for Clara, and never +thought that that man came to see her. + +"Whom do you wish to see?" the matron asked Nekhludoff, approaching +him. + +"Katherine Maslova," he stammered. + +"Maslova, you are wanted," shouted the matron. + +Maslova turned round, raised her head, and with the familiar +expression of submissiveness, came to the net. She did not recognize +Nekhludoff, and gazed at him in surprise. However, judging by his +dress that he was a rich man, she smiled. + +"What are you?" she asked, pressing her smiling face with squinting +eyes against the net. + +"I wish to see--" He did not know whether to use the respectful "you" +or the endearing "thou," and decided on the former. He spoke no louder +than usual. "I wish to see you--I----" + +"Don't give me any of your song and dance----" the tramp beside him +shouted. "Did you take it, or did you not?" + +"She is dying; she is very weak," some one shouted on the other side. + +Maslova could not hear Nekhludoff, but the expression of his face, as +she spoke, suddenly reminded her of that which she did not wish to +think of. The smile disappeared from her face, and a wrinkle on her +brow evidenced her suffering. + +"I cannot hear what you are saying," she shouted, blinking and still +more knitting her brows. + +"I came----" + +"Yes, I am doing my duty; I am repenting," thought Nekhludoff, and +immediately tears filled his eyes, and he felt a choking sensation in +his throat. His fingers clutched at the net and he made efforts to +keep from sobbing. + +"I should not have gone if you were well," came from one side. + +"I swear by God I know nothing about it!" cried a prisoner from the +other side. + +Maslova noticed his agitation, and it communicated itself to her. Her +eyes sparkled, and her puffy, white cheeks became covered with red +spots, but her face retained its severity, and her squinting eyes +stared past him. + +"You are like him, but I don't know you," she shouted. + +"I came here to ask your forgiveness," he said in a loud voice, +without intonation, as if repeating a lesson he had learned by heart. + +As he said these words he felt ashamed and looked round. But the +thought immediately came to his mind that it was well that he was +ashamed, for he ought to bear the shame. And in a loud voice he +continued: + +"I acted meanly, infamously--forgive me." + +She stood motionless, her squinting eyes fixed on him. + +He could not continue and left the net, making efforts to stifle the +sobbing which was convulsing his breast. + +The inspector who directed Nekhludoff to the women's ward, evidently +becoming interested in him, came into the room, and, seeing him in the +middle of the passage, asked him why he was not speaking with the +prisoner he had inquired about. Nekhludoff blew his nose, and, +endeavoring to assume an air of calmness, said: + +"I can't speak through the net; nothing can be heard." + +The inspector mused awhile. + +"Well, then, she can be brought out for awhile." + +"Maria Karlovna!" he turned to the matron. "Lead Maslova out." + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + + +A moment afterward Maslova came out through a side door. With gentle +step she came up to Nekhludoff; stopped and glanced at him from under +her lowered eyebrows. Her black hair stood out on her forehead in +curly ringlets; her unhealthy, bloated, white face was pretty and very +calm, only her shining-black, squinting eyes sparkled from under their +swollen lashes. + +"You may talk here," said the inspector and went aside. + +Nekhludoff moved toward a bench standing beside the wall. + +Maslova glanced inquiringly at the inspector, and shrugging her +shoulders, as if in wonder, followed Nekhludoff to the bench, and +straightening her skirt, sat down beside him. + +"I know that it is hard for you to forgive me," began Nekhludoff, but +feeling the tears flooding his eyes, again stopped, "but if the past +cannot be mended, I will do now everything in my power. Tell me----" + +"How did you find me?" she asked without answering his question, her +squinting eyes looking and not looking at him. + +"Oh, Lord! Help me, teach me what to do!" Nekhludoff said to himself +as he looked at her face so completely changed. + +"I was on the jury when you were tried," he said. "You did not +recognize me?" + +"No, I did not. I had no time to recognize you. Besides, I did not +look," she answered. + +"Wasn't there a child?" he asked, and he felt his face turning red. + +"It died at that time, thank God," she said with bitterness, turning +away her head. + +"How did it happen?" + +"I was ill myself--nearly died," she said without raising her eyes. + +"How could the aunts let you go?" + +"Who would keep a servant with a child? As soon as they noticed it +they drove me out. But what is the use of talking! I don't remember +anything. It is all over now." + +"No, it is not over. I cannot leave it thus. I now wish to atone for +my sin." + +"There is nothing to atone for; what's gone is gone," she said, and, +all unexpected to him, she suddenly looked at him and smiled in an +alluring and piteous manner. + +His appearance was entirely unexpected to Maslova, especially at this +time and place, and therefore the astonishment of the first moment +brought to her mind that of which she never thought before. At the +first moment she hazily recalled that new, wonderful world of feeling +and thought which had been opened to her by that charming young man +who loved her, and whom she loved, and then his inexplicable cruelty +and the long chain of humiliation and suffering which followed as the +direct result of that enchanting bliss, and it pained her. But being +unable to account for it all, she did the customary thing for +her--banished all these recollections from her mind, and endeavored to +obscure them by a life of dissipation. At first she associated this +man who sat beside her with that young man whom she had loved once, +but as the thought pained her, she drove it from her mind. And now +this neatly dressed gentleman, with perfumed beard, was to her not +that Nekhludoff whom she had loved, but one of those people who, as +opportunity afforded, were taking advantage of such creatures as she, +and of whom such creatures as she ought to take advantage as +opportunity offers. For this reason she smiled alluringly. + +She was silent, thinking how to profit by him. + +"All that is over now," she said. "And here I am, sentenced to penal +servitude." + +Her lips trembled as she spoke the terrible word. + +"I knew, I was certain that you were innocent," said Nekhludoff. + +"Of course I was innocent. I am no thief or robber. They say here that +it all depends on the lawyer; that it is necessary to appeal. Only +they say it comes very high----" + +"Yes, certainly," said Nekhludoff. "I have already seen a lawyer." + +"One must not be sparing, and get a good one," she said. + +"I will do everything in my power." + +They were silent. She again smiled as before. + +"I would like to ask you--for some money, if you have it--not much, +say ten rubles," she said suddenly. + +"Yes, yes," said Nekhludoff, abashed, and thrust his hand in his +pocket. + +She quickly glanced at the inspector, who was walking up and down the +aisle. + +"Don't let him see it, or he will take it away." + +Nekhludoff took out his pocketbook as soon as the director turned his +back on them, but before he could hand her the ten-ruble bill the +inspector turned round, facing them. He crumpled the bill in his hand. + +"Why, she is a dead woman," thought Nekhludoff as he looked at her +once lovely, but now defiled, bloated face with the unhealthy sparkle +in her black, squinting eyes, which looked now at the inspector, now +at Nekhludoff's hand with the crumpled bill. And a moment of +hesitation came over him. + +Again the tempter of the night before whispered in his soul, +endeavoring to turn the question, What would be the best thing to do? +into, What will be the end of it? + +"You can do nothing with that woman," whispered the voice. "She will +be like a stone around your neck, which will drag you down, and +prevent your being useful to others. Give her all the money you have, +bid her good-by and put an end to it for all time." + +And immediately he became aware that something important was taking +place in his soul; that his inner life was on a wavering scale, which +could by the slightest effort be made to overbalance to one side or +the other. And he made that effort, calling on that God whom the other +day he felt in his soul, and God immediately came to his aid. He +resolved to tell her all. + +"Katiousha! I came to ask your forgiveness, but you have not answered +me whether you have forgiven me, or ever will forgive me," he said +suddenly. + +She was not listening to him, but looked now at his hand, now at the +inspector. When the latter turned away, she quickly stretched forth +her hand, seized the money from Nekhludoff's hand and stuck it behind +her belt. + +"How funny!" she said, smiling contemptuously as it seemed to him. + +Nekhludoff saw that there was something inimical to him in her, which +stood guard, as it were, over her as she was now, and prevented him +from penetrating into her heart. + +But--wonderful to relate--so far from repulsing him, this only drew +him to her by some new peculiar force. He felt that he ought to awaken +her spirit; that it was extremely difficult to do so; but the very +difficulty of the undertaking attracted him. He experienced a feeling +toward her which he had never experienced before, either toward her or +any one else, and in which there was nothing personal. He desired +nothing of her for himself, and only wished her to to cease to be what +she was now, and become what she had been before. + +"Katiousha, why do you speak thus? I know you, I remember you as you +were in Panoff----" + +But she did not yield--she would not yield. + +"Why recall the past!" she said dryly, frowning even more. + +"Because I wish to efface, to expiate my sin. Katiousha----" he began, +and was about to tell her that he would marry her, but he met her eyes +in which he read something so terrible, rude and repulsive that he +could not finish. + +At that moment the visitors began to take leave. The inspector +approached Nekhludoff and told him that the time for interviewing was +ended. Maslova rose and submissively waited to be dismissed. + +"Good-by. I have a great deal to tell you yet, but, as you see, I +cannot do it now," said Nekhludoff, and extended his hand. "I will +call again." + +"I think you have said everything----" + +She extended her hand, but did not press his. + +"No. I will try to see you again, where we can speak together, and +then I will tell you something very important," said Nekhludoff. + +"Well, all right," she said, smiling as she used to do when she +wished to please a man. + +"You are more to me than a sister," said Nekhludoff. + +"Funny," she repeated, and, shaking her head, she went behind the +grating. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + + +Nekhludoff expected that at the first meeting Katiousha, learning of +his intention to serve her, and of his repentance, would be moved to +rejoicing, would become again Katiousha, but to his surprise and +horror, he saw that Katiousha was no more; that only Maslova remained. + +It surprised him particularly that not only was Maslova not ashamed of +her condition, but, on the contrary, she seemed to be content with, +and even took pride in it. And yet it could not be different. + +It is usually thought that a thief or murderer, acknowledging the +harmfulness of his occupation, ought to be ashamed of it. The truth is +just the contrary. People, whom fate and their sinful mistakes have +placed in a given condition, form such views of life generally that +they are enabled to consider their condition useful and morally +tenable. In order, however, to maintain such views they instinctively +cling to such circles in which the same views are held. We are +surprised when we hear thieves boasting of their cleverness, or +murderers boasting of their cruelty, but that is only because their +circle is limited, and because we are outside of it. + +This was the case also with Maslova. She was sentenced to penal +servitude, and yet she formed such views of life and her place in it +that she could find reasons for self-approval and even boast before +people of her condition. + +The substance of this view was that the greatest welfare of all men, +without exception--young, old, students, generals, educated and +uneducated--consisted in associating with attractive women, and that +therefore all men, while pretending to occupy themselves with other +business, in reality desire nothing else. Now, she is an attractive +woman, and can satisfy that desire of theirs, or not, as she wishes, +hence she is a necessary and important person. All her life, past and +present, attested the justice of this view. + +Whomever she met during ten years, beginning with Nekhludoff and the +old commissary of police, and ending with the jailers, all wanted her. +She had not met any one who did not want her. Hence the world appeared +to her as an aggregation of people who watched her from all sides and +by all possible means--deceit, violence, gold or craftiness--strewn to +possess her. + +With such an idea of life, Maslova considered herself a most important +person. And she cherished this view above all else in the world, +because to change it would be to lose that standing among people which +it assured her. And in order not to lose her standing she +instinctively clung to that circle which held the same views of life. +Seeing, however, that Nekhludoff wished to lead her into another +world, she resisted it, feeling that in that other world into which he +was luring her she would lose her present standing which gave her +confidence and self-respect. For the same reason she drove from her +mind all recollection of her first youth and her first relations to +Nekhludoff. These recollections clashed with her present views of +life, and for that reason were entirely effaced from her memory, or, +rather, were preserved somewhere in her memory, but were covered up, +as it were, with a thick plastering, to prevent any access to them. +Nekhludoff was, therefore, to her not that man whom she had loved with +a pure love, but merely a rich gentleman by whom one may and ought to +profit, and who was to be treated like any other man. + +"I did not tell her the most important thing," thought Nekhludoff, as +with the other people he walked toward the door. "I did not tell her +that I would marry her, but I will do it." + +The inspectors at the doors counted the visitors each with one hand +slapping every visitor on the back. But Nekhludoff was not offended by +it now; he even took no notice of it. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + + +It was Nekhludoff's intention to alter his manner of living--discharge +the servants, let the house and take rooms in a hotel. But Agrippina +Petrovna argued that no one would rent the house in the summer, and +that as it was necessary to live somewhere and keep the furniture and +things, he might as well remain where he was. So that all efforts of +Nekhludoff to lead a simple, student life, came to naught. Not only +was the old arrangement of things continued, but, as in former times, +the house received a general cleaning. First were brought out and hung +on a rope uniforms and strange fur garments which were never used by +anybody; then carpets, furniture, and the porter, with his assistant, +rolling up the sleeves on their muscular arms, began to beat these +things, and the odor of camphor rose all over the house. Walking +through the court-yard and looking out of the window, Nekhludoff +wondered at the great number of unnecessary things kept in the house. +The only purpose these things served, he thought, was to afford the +servants an opportunity of exercise. + +"It isn't worth while to alter my mode of life while Maslova's affair +is unsettled," he thought. "Besides, it is too hard. When she is +discharged or transported and I follow her, things will change of +their own accord." + +On the day appointed by the lawyer Fanirin, Nekhludoff called on him. +On entering the magnificently appointed apartments of the house owned +by the lawyer himself, with its huge plants, remarkable curtains and +other evidences of luxury, attesting easily earned wealth, Nekhludoff +found in the reception-room a number of people sitting dejectedly +around tables on which lay illustrated journals intended for their +diversion. The lawyer's clerk, who was sitting in this room at a high +desk, recognizing Nekhludoff, greeted him and said that he would +announce him. But before the clerk reached the door of the cabinet, +the door opened and the animated voices of a thick-set man with a red +face and stubby mustache, wearing a new suit, and Fanirin himself were +heard. The expression on their faces was such as is seen on people +who had just made a profitable, but not very honest, bargain. + +"It is your own fault, my dear sir," Fanirin said, smiling. + +"I would gladly go to heaven, but my sins prevent me." + +"That is all right." + +And both laughed unnaturally. + +"Ah, Prince Nekhludoff! Pleased to see you," said Fanirin, and bowing +again to the departing merchant, he led Nekhludoff into his +business-like cabinet. "Please take a cigarette," said the lawyer, +seating himself opposite Nekhludoff and suppressing a smile, called +forth by the success of the preceding affair. + +"Thank you. I came to inquire about Maslova's case." + +"Yes, yes, immediately. My, what rogues these moneybags are!" he said. +"You have seen that fellow; he is worth twelve millions, and is the +meanest skinflint I ever met." + +Nekhludoff felt an irresistible loathing toward this ready talker who, +by his tone of voice, meant to show that he and Nekhludoff belonged to +a different sphere than the other clients. + +"He worried me to death. He is an awful rogue. I wanted to ease my +mind," said the lawyer, as if justifying his not speaking about +Nekhludoff's case. "And now as to your case. I have carefully examined +it, 'and could not approve the contents thereof,' as Tourgeniff has +it. That is to say, the lawyer was a wretched one, and he let slip all +the grounds of appeal." + +"What have you decided to do?" + +"One moment. Tell him," he turned to his clerk, who had just entered, +"that I will not change my terms. He can accept them or not, as he +pleases." + +"He does not accept them." + +"Well, then, let him go," said the lawyer, and his benign and joyful +countenance suddenly assumed a gloomy and angry expression. + +"They say that lawyers take money for nothing," he said, again +assuming a pleasant expression. "I succeeded in obtaining the +discharge of an insolent debtor who was incarcerated on flimsy +accusations of fraud, and now they all run after me. And every such +case requires great labor. We, too, you know, leave some of our flesh +in the ink-pot, as some author said." + +"Well, now, your case, or rather the case in which you are +interested," he continued; "was badly conducted. There are no good +grounds for appeal, but, of course, we can make an attempt. This is +what I have written." + +He took a sheet of paper, and quickly swallowing some uninteresting, +formal words, and emphasizing others, he began to read: + +"To the Department of Cassation, etc., etc., Katherine, etc. Petition. +By the decision, etc., of the etc., rendered, etc., a certain Maslova +was found guilty of taking the life, by poisoning, of a certain +merchant Smelkoff, and in pursuance of Chapter 1,454 of the Code, was +sentenced to etc., with hard labor, etc." + +He stopped, evidently listening with pleasure to his own composition, +although from constant use he knew the forms by heart. + +"'This sentence is the result of grave errors,' he continued with +emphasis, 'and ought to be reversed for the following reasons: +First, the reading in the indictment of the description of the +entrails of Smelkoff was interrupted by the justiciary at the very +beginning.'--One." + +"But the prosecutor demanded its reading," Nekhludoff said with +surprise. + +"That is immaterial; the defense could have demanded the same thing." + +"But that was entirely unnecessary." + +"No matter, it is a ground of appeal. Further: 'Second. Maslova's +attorney,' he continued to read, 'was interrupted while addressing the +jury, by the justiciary, when, desiring to depict the character of +Maslova, he touched upon the inner causes of her fall. The ground for +refusing to permit him to continue his address was stated to be +irrelevancy to the question at issue. But as has often been pointed +out by the Senate, the character and moral features generally of an +accused are to be given the greatest weight in determining the +question of intent.'--Two." + +"But he spoke so badly that we could not understand him," said +Nekhludoff with still greater surprise. + +"He is a very foolish fellow and, of course, could say nothing +sensible," Fanirin said, laughing. "However, it is a ground for +appeal. 'Third. In his closing words the justiciary, contrary to the +positive requirements of section 1, chapter 801 of the Code of +Criminal Procedure, failed to explain to the jury of what legal +elements the theory of guilt consisted; nor did he tell them that if +they found that Maslova gave the poison to Smelkoff, but without +intent to kill, they had the power to discharge her.' This is the +principal point." + +"We could have known that. That was our mistake." + +"And finally: 'Fourth,'" continued the lawyer. "'The answer of the +jury to the question of Maslova's guilt was made in a form which was +obviously contradictory. Maslova was charged with intentional +poisoning of Smelkoff, and with robbery as a motive, while the jury, +in their answer, denied her guilt of the robbery, from which it was +evident that they intended to acquit her of the intent to kill. Their +failure to do so was due to the incomplete charge of the justiciary. +Such an answer, therefore, demanded the application of chapters 816 +and 808 of the Code. That is to say, it was the duty of the presiding +justice to explain to the jury their mistake and refer the question of +the guilt of the accused to them for further deliberation.'" + +"Why, then, did he not do it?" + +"That is just what I would like to know myself," said Fanirin, +laughing. + +"So the Senate will correct the mistake." + +"That will depend on who will be sitting there when the case is +heard." + +"Well, and then we continue: 'Under these circumstances the court +erred in imposing on Maslova punishment, and the application to her of +section 3, chapter 771 of the Code was a serious violation of the +basic principles of the criminal law. Wherefore applicant demands, +etc., etc., be revised in accordance with chs. 909, 910, s. 2, 912 and +928 of the Code, etc., etc., and referring the case back for a new +trial to a different part of the same court.' Well, now, everything +that could be done was done. But I will be frank with you; the +probabilities of success are slight. However, everything depends on +who will be sitting in the Senate. If you know any one among them, +bestir yourself." + +"Yes, I know some." + +"Then you must hasten, for they will soon be gone on their vacation, +and won't return for three months. In case of failure, the only +recourse will be to petition the Czar. I shall be at your service also +in that contingency." + +"I thank you. And now as to your honorarium?" + +"My clerk will hand you the petition and also my bill." + +"One more question I would like to ask you. The prosecutor gave me a +pass for the prison, but I was told there that it was necessary to +obtain the Governor's permission to visit the prison on other than +visitors' days. Is it necessary?" + +"I think so. But he is away, and the lieutenant is in his place." + +"You mean Maslenikoff?" + +"Yes." + +"I know him," said Nekhludoff, rising to leave. + +At that moment the lawyer's wife, an extremely ugly, pug-nosed and +bony woman, rushed into the room. Not only was her attire unusually +original--she was fairly loaded down with plush and silk things, +bright yellow and green--but her oily hair was done up in curls, and +she triumphantly rushed into the reception-room, accompanied by a +tall, smiling man with an earth-colored face, in a cut-away coat with +silk facings and a white tie. This was an author. He knew Nekhludoff +by sight. + +"Anatal," she said, opening the door, "come here. Semion Ivanovitch +promised to read to us his poem, and you must read something from +Garshin." + +Nekhludoff was preparing to go, but the lawyer's wife whispered +something to her husband and turned to him: + +"I know you, Prince, and consider an introduction unnecessary. Won't +you please attend our literary breakfast? It will be very interesting. +Anatal is an excellent reader." + +"You see what variety of duties I have," said Anatal, smiling and +pointing at his wife, thereby expressing the impossibility of +resisting that bewitching person. + +With a sad and grave face and with the greatest politeness, Nekhludoff +thanked the lawyer's wife for the invitation, pleaded other +engagements and went into the reception-room. + +"What faces he makes!" the lawyer's wife said of him, when he had left +the room. + +In the reception-room the clerk handed him the petition, and in answer +to Nekhludoff's question about the honorarium, said that Anatal +Semionovitch set his fee at a thousand rubles; that he really does not +take such cases, but does it for Nekhludoff. + +"And who is to sign the petition?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"The prisoner may sign it herself, and if that be troublesome, she may +empower Anatal Semionovitch." + +"No, I will go to the prison and obtain her signature," said +Nekhludoff, rejoicing at the opportunity of seeing Katiousha before +the appointed day. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + + +At the usual hour the jailers' whistles were heard in the corridors of +the prison; with a rattling of irons the doors of the corridors and +cells opened, and the patter of bare feet and the clatter of prison +shoes resounded through the corridors; the men and women prisoners +washed and dressed, and after going through the morning inspection, +proceeded to brew their tea. + +During the tea-drinking animated conversations were going on among the +prisoners in the cells and corridors. Two prisoners were to be flogged +that day. One of these was a fairly intelligent young clerk who, in a +fit of jealousy, had killed his mistress. He was loved by his +fellow-prisoners for his cheerfulness, liberality and firmness in +dealing with the authorities. He knew the laws and demanded compliance +with them. Three weeks ago the warden struck one of the chambermen for +spilling some soup on his new uniform. The clerk, Vasilieff, took the +chamberman's part, saying that there was no law permitting an official +to beat prisoners. "I will show you the law," said the warden, +reviling Vasilieff. The latter answered in kind. The warden was about +to strike him, but Vasilieff caught hold of his hands and held him +fast for about three minutes and then pushed him out of the door. The +warden complained and the inspector ordered Vasilieff placed in +solitary confinement. + +These cells for solitary confinement were dark closets iron-bolted +from the outside. In these cold, damp cells, devoid of bed, table or +chair, the prisoners were obliged to sit or lie on the dirty floor. +The rats, of which there was a large number, crawled all over them, +and were so bold that they devoured the prisoner's bread and often +attacked the prisoners themselves when they remained motionless. +Vasilieff resisted, and with the aid of two other prisoners, tore +himself loose from the jailers, but they were finally overcome and all +three were thrust into cells. It was reported to the Governor that +something like a mutiny occurred, and in answer came a document +ordering that the two chief culprits, Vasilieff and the tramp +Don'tremember (an application given to some tramps and jail birds who, +to conceal the identity, with characteristic ingenuity and stupidity +make that answer to all questions relating to their names), be given +thirty lashes each. + +The flogging was to take place in the women's reception-room. + +This was known to all the inmates of the prison since the previous +evening, and every one was talking of the coming flogging. + +Korableva, Miss Dandy, Theodosia and Maslova, flushed and animated, +for they had already partaken of vodka which Maslova now had in +abundance, were sitting in their corner, talking of the same thing. + +"Why, he has not misbehaved," Korableva said of Vasilieff, biting off +a piece of sugar with her strong teeth. "He only sided with a comrade. +Fighting, you know, is not allowed nowadays." + +"They say he is a fine fellow," added Theodosia, who was sitting on a +log on which stood a tea-pot. + +"If you were to tell him, Michaelovna," the watch-woman said to +Maslova, meaning Nekhludoff. + +"I will. He will do anything for me," Maslova answered, smiling and +shaking her head. + +"It will be too late; they are going to fetch him now," said +Theodosia. "It is awful," she added, sighing. + +"I have seen once a peasant flogged in the town hall. My +father-in-law had sent me to the Mayor of the borough, and when I came +there I was surprised to see him----" The watch-woman began a long +story. + +Her story was interrupted by voices and steps on the upper corridor. + +The women became silent, listening. + +"They are bringing him, the fiends," said Miss Dandy. "Won't he get it +now! The jailers are very angry, for he gave them no rest." + +It became quiet in the upper corridor, and the watch-woman finished +her story, how she was frightened when she saw the peasant flogged, +and how it turned her stomach. Miss Dandy told how Schezloff was +flogged with a lash while he never uttered a word. Theodosia then +removed the pots and bowls; Korableva and the watch-woman took to +their sewing, while Maslova, hugging her knees, became sad from ennui. +She was about to lay down to sleep when the matron called her into the +office, where a visitor was waiting for her. + +"Don't fail to tell him about us," said the old Menshova, while +Maslova was arranging her headgear before a looking-glass half void of +mercury. "It was not me who set the fire, but he, the villain, himself +did it, and the laborer saw it. He would not kill a man. Tell him to +call Dmitry. Dmitry will explain to him everything. They locked us up +here for nothing, while the villain is living with another man's wife +and sits around in dram-shops." + +"That's wrong!" affirmed Korableva. + +"I will tell him--yes, I will," answered Maslova. "Suppose we have a +drink, for courage?" she added, winking one eye. + +Korableva poured out half a cup for her. Maslova drank it and wiped +her mouth. Her spirits rose, and repeating the words "for courage," +shaking her head and smiling, she followed the matron. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + + +Nekhludoff had been waiting for a long time in the vestibule. + +Arriving at the prison he rang the front-door bell and handed his pass +to the warden on duty. + +"What do you want?" + +"I wish to see the prisoner Maslova." + +"Can't see her now; the inspector is busy." + +"In the office?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"No, here in the visitors' room," the warden answered, somewhat +embarrassed, as it seemed to Nekhludoff. + +"Why, are visitors admitted to-day?" + +"No--special business," he answered. + +"Where can I see him, then?" + +"He will come out presently. Wait." + +At that moment a sergeant-major in bright crown-laced uniform, his +face radiant, and his mustache impregnated with smoke, appeared from a +side door. + +"Why did you admit him here? What is the office for?" he said sternly, +turning to the warden. + +"I was told that the inspector was here," said Nekhludoff, surprised +at the embarrassment noticeable on the officer's face. + +At that moment the inner door opened and Petroff, flushed and +perspiring, came out. + +"He will remember it," he said, turning to the sergeant-major. + +The latter pointed with his eyes to Nekhludoff, and Petroff became +silent, frowned and walked out through the rear door. + +"Who will remember? What? Why are they all so embarrassed? Why did the +sergeant make that sign?" thought Nekhludoff. + +"You cannot wait here; please walk into the office," the +sergeant-major turned to Nekhludoff, who was about to go out when the +inspector came in through the inner door, more embarrassed even than +his assistants. He was sighing incessantly. Seeing Nekhludoff, he +turned to the warden: + +"Fedotoff, call Maslova." + +"Follow me, please," he said to Nekhludoff. They passed up a winding +stairway leading into a small room with one window and containing a +writing table and a few chairs. The inspector sat down. + +"Mine are disagreeable duties," he said, turning to Nekhludoff and +lighting a thick cigarette. + +"You seem tired," said Nekhludoff. + +"I am very tired of all this business; my duties are very onerous. I +am trying my best to alleviate the condition of the prisoners and +things are getting only worse. I am very anxious to get away from +here; the duties are very, very unpleasant." + +Nekhludoff could not understand what it was that made it so unpleasant +for the inspector, but to-day he noticed on the inspector's face an +expression of despondency and hopelessness which was pitiful to +behold. + +"Yes, I think they are very trying," he said. "But why do you not +resign?" + +"I have a family and am without means." + +"But if it is difficult----" + +"Well, you see, I manage to improve somewhat their lot after all. +Another one in my place would hardly exert himself as I do. It is no +easy matter to handle two thousand people. They are also human and one +feels pity for them, and yet they can't be allowed to have all their +own way." + +And the inspector related the case of a recent fight among the +prisoners which ended in murder. + +His story was interrupted by the entrance of Maslova, who was preceded +by the warden. + +Nekhludoff got sight of her when she appeared on the threshold and +before she saw the inspector. Her face was red, and she walked briskly +behind the warden, smiling and shaking her head. Noticing the +inspector she gazed at him with frightened face, but immediately +recovered herself and boldly and cheerfully turned to Nekhludoff. + +"How do you do?" she said, drawlingly, smiling and vigorously shaking +his hand, not as on the former occasion. + +"Here I have brought you the petition to sign," said Nekhludoff, +somewhat surprised at the forward manner in which she accosted him. +"The lawyer wrote it. It must be signed and sent to St. Petersburg." + +"Why, certainly. I will do anything," she said, winking one eye and +smiling. + +"May she sign it here?" Nekhludoff asked of the inspector. + +"Come here and sit down," said the inspector. "Here is a pen for you. +Can you write?" + +"I could write once," she said, smiling, and, arranging her skirt and +waist-sleeve, sat down, clumsily took the pen into her small, +energetic hand, began to laugh and looked round at Nekhludoff. + +He pointed out to her where to sign. + +Diligently dipping and shaking the pen she signed her name. + +"Do you wish anything else?" she asked, looking now at Nekhludoff, now +at the inspector, and depositing the pen now on the ink-stand, now on +the paper. + +"I wish to tell you something," said Nekhludoff, taking the pen from +her hand. + +"Very well; go on," she uttered, and suddenly, as though meditating or +growing sleepy, her face became grave. + +The inspector rose and walked out, leaving Nekhludoff with her alone. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + + +The warden who brought Maslova to the office seated himself on the +window-sill, away from the table. This was a decisive moment for +Nekhludoff. He had been constantly reproaching himself for not telling +her at their first meeting of his intention to marry her, and was now +determined to do so. She was sitting on one side of the table, and +Nekhludoff seated himself on the other side, opposite her. The room +was well lighted, and for the first time Nekhludoff clearly saw her +face from a short distance, and noticed wrinkles around the eyes and +lips and a slight swelling under her eyes, and he pitied her even more +than before. + +Resting his elbows on the table so that he should not be heard by the +warden, whose face was of a Jewish type, with grayish side-whiskers, +he said: + +"If this petition fails we will appeal to His Majesty. Nothing will be +left undone." + +"If it had been done before--if I had had a good lawyer"--she +interrupted him. "That lawyer of mine was such a little fool. He was +only making me compliments," she said, and began to laugh. "If they +had only known that I was your acquaintance, it would have been +different. They think that everybody is a thief." + +"How strange she is to-day," thought Nekhludoff, and was about to tell +her what he had on his mind when she again began to speak. + +"I wanted to tell you. There is an old woman here--we are even +surprised--such a good little woman, but there she is--she and her +son, both in prison, and everybody knows that they are innocent. They +are accused of setting fire, so they are in prison. She learned, you +know, that I am acquainted with you," said Maslova, turning her head +and casting glances at him, "and she says to me: 'Tell him,' she says, +'to call my son; he will tell him the whole story.' Menshoff is his +name. Well, will you do it? Such a good little woman. You can see for +yourself that she is not guilty. You will help them, dear, won't you?" +she said, glancing at him; then she lowered her eyes and smiled. + +"Very well; I will do it," said Nekhludoff, his surprise at her easy +manner growing, "but I would like to talk to you about my own affair. +Do you remember what I told you that time?" + +"You have spoken so much. What did you say that time?" she said, +continuing to smile and turning her head now to one side, now to the +other. + +"I said that I came to ask your forgiveness," he said. + +"Oh! Forgiveness, forgiveness! That is all nonsense. You had better----" + +"That I wish to atone for my sin," continued Nekhludoff, "and to +atone not by words but by deed. I have decided to marry you." + +Her face suddenly showed fright. Her squinting eyes became fixed, and +they looked and did not look at him. + +"What is that for?" And she frowned maliciously. + +"I feel that before God I must do it." + +"What God, now, are you talking about? You are not talking to the +point. God? What God? Why didn't you think of God then?" she said, and +opening her mouth, stopped short. + +Nekhludoff only now smelled a strong odor of liquor and understood the +cause of her excitement. + +"Be calm," he said. + +"I have nothing to be calm about. You think I am drunk? Yes, I am +drunk, but I know what I am talking about," she said quickly, and her +face became purple. "I am a convict, while you are a lord, a prince, +and needn't stay here to soil your hands. Go to your princesses----" + +"You cannot be too cruel to me; you do not know how I feel," he said +in a low voice, his whole body trembling. "You cannot imagine how +strongly I feel my guilt before you!" + +"Feel my guilt," she mocked him maliciously. "You did not feel it +then, but thrust a hundred rubles in my hands. 'That's your price----'" + +"I know, I know, but what am I to do now? I have decided not to leave +you," he repeated; "and what I say I will do." + +"And I say that you will not!" she said, and laughed aloud. + +"Katinsha!" he began. + +"Leave me. I am a convict, and you are a prince; and you have no +business here," she shrieked, violently releasing her hand from his, +her wrath knowing no limit. + +"You wish to save yourself through me," she continued, hastening to +pour out all that had accumulated in her soul. "You have made me the +means of your enjoyment in life, and now you wish to make me the means +of saving you after death! You disgust me, as do your eye-glasses and +that fat, dirty face of yours. Go, go away!" she shrieked, +energetically springing to her feet. + +The warden approached them. + +"Don't you make so much noise! You know whom----" + +"Please desist," said Nekhludoff. + +"She must not forget herself," said the warden. + +"Please wait a while," said Nekhludoff. + +The warden returned to his seat on the window-sill. + +Maslova again seated herself, her eyes downcast and her little hands +clutching each other. + +Nekhludoff stood over her, not knowing what to do. + +"You do not believe me," he said. + +"That you wish to marry me? That will never happen. I will sooner hang +myself." + +"But I will serve you anyway." + +"That is your business. Only I don't want anything from you. Now, that +is certain," she said. "Oh, why did I not die then!" she added, and +began to cry piteously. + +Nekhludoff could not speak; her tears called forth tears in his own +eyes. + +She raised her eyes, looked at him, as if surprised, and with her +'kerchief began to wipe the tears streaming down her cheeks. + +The warden again approached them and reminded them that it was time to +part. Maslova rose. + +"You are excited now. If possible I will call to-morrow. Meantime, +think it over," said Nekhludoff. + +She made no answer, and without looking at him left the room, preceded +by the warden. + + * * * * * + +"Well, girl, good times are coming," said Korableva to Maslova when +the latter returned to the cell. "He seems to be stuck on you, so make +the most of it while he is calling. He will get you released. The rich +can do anything." + +"That's so," drawled the watch-woman. "The poor man will think ten +times before he will marry, while the rich man can satisfy his every +whim. Yes, my dear; there was a respectable man in our village, and +he----" + +"Have you spoken to him of my case?" asked the old woman. + +But Maslova was silent. She lay down on her bunk, gazing with her +squinting eyes into the corner, and remained in that position till +evening. Her soul was in torment. That which Nekhludoff told her +opened to her that world in which she had suffered and which she had +left, hating without understanding it. She had now lost that +forgetfulness in which she had lived, and to live with a clear +recollection of the past was painful. In the evening she again bought +wine, which she drank with her fellow-prisoners. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + + +"So, that is how it is!" thought Nekhludoff as he made his way out of +the prison, and he only now realized the extent of his guilt. Had he +not attempted to efface and atone for his conduct, he should never +have felt all the infamy of it, nor she all the wrong perpetrated +against her. Only now it all came out in all its horror. He now for +the first time perceived how her soul had been debased, and she +finally understood it. At first Nekhludoff had played with his +feelings and delighted in his own contrition; now he was simply +horrified. He now felt that to abandon her was impossible. And yet he +could not see the result of these relations. + +At the prison gate some one handed Nekhludoff a note. He read it when +on the street. The note was written in a bold hand, with pencil, and +contained the following: + + "Having learned that you are visiting the prison I thought + it would be well to see you. You can see me by asking the + authorities for an interview with me. I will tell you + something very important to your protege as well as to the + politicals. Thankfully, Vera Bogodukhovskaia" + +"Bogodukhovskaia! Who is Bogodukhovskaia?" thought Nekhludoff, +entirely absorbed in the impression of his meeting with Maslova, and +failing at the first moment to recall either the name or the +handwriting. "Oh, yes!" he suddenly recalled. "The deacon's daughter +at the bear-hunt." + +Vera Bogodukhovskaia was a teacher in the obscure district of +Novgorod, whither Nekhludoff, on one occasion, went bear hunting with +his friends. This teacher had asked Nekhludoff to give her some money +to enable her to study. He gave it to her, and the incident dropped +from his memory. And now it seemed that this lady was a political +prisoner, had probably learned his history in prison, and was now +offering her services. At that time everything was easy and simple; +now everything was difficult and complex. Nekhludoff readily and +joyfully recalled that time and his acquaintance with Bogodukhovskaia. +It was on the eve of Shrovetide, in the wilds about sixty versts from +the railroad. The hunt was successful; two bears were bagged, and they +were dining before their journey home, when the woodsman, in whose hut +they were stopping, came to tell them that the deacon's daughter had +come and wished to see Prince Nekhludoff. + +"Is she good looking?" some one asked. + +"Come, come!" said Nekhludoff, rising, and wondering why the deacon's +daughter should want him, assumed a grave expression and went to the +woodsman's hut. + +In the hut there was a girl in a felt hat and short fur coat, sinewy, +and with an ugly and unpleasant face, relieved, however, by her +pleasant eyes and raised eyebrows. + +"This is the Prince, Vera Efremovna," said the old hostess. "I will +leave you." + +"What can I do for you?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"I--I--You see, you are rich and throw away your money on trifles, on +a chase. I know," began the girl, becoming confused, "but I wish but +one thing; I wish to be useful to people, and can do nothing because I +know nothing." + +"What, then, can I do for you?" + +"I am a teacher, and would like to enter college, but they don't let +me. It is not exactly that they don't let me, but we have no means. +Let me have some money; when I am through with my studies I shall +return it to you." + +Her eyes were truthful and kindly, and the expression of resolution +and timidity on her face was so touching that Nekhludoff, as it was +usual with him, suddenly mentally placed himself in her position, +understood and pitied her. + +"I think it is wrong for rich people to kill bears and get the +peasants drunk. Why don't they make themselves useful? I only need +eighty rubles. Oh, if you don't wish to, it is all the same to me," +she said, angrily, interpreting the grave expression on Nekhludoff's +face to her disadvantage. + +"On the contrary, I am very thankful to you for the opportunity----" + +When she understood that he consented her face turned a purple color +and she became silent. + +"I will fetch it immediately," said Nekhludoff. + +He went into the entrance hall where he found an eavesdropping friend. +Without taking notice of his comrade's jests, he took the money from +his hand-bag and brought it to her. + +"Please don't be thanking me. It is I who ought to be thankful to +you." + +It was pleasant to Nekhludoff to recall all that; it was pleasant to +recall how he came near quarreling with the army officer who attempted +to make a bad joke of it; how another comrade sided with him, which +drew them more closely together; how merry and successful was the +hunt, and how happy he felt that night returning to the railroad +station. A long file of sleighs moved noiselessly in pairs at a gentle +trot along the narrow fir-lined path of the forests, which were +covered with a heavy layer of snowflakes. Some one struck a red light +in the dark, and the pleasant aroma of a good cigarette was wafted +toward him. Osip, the sleigh-tender, ran from sleigh to sleigh, +knee-deep in snow, telling of the elks that were roaming in the deep +snow, nibbling the bark of aspen trees, and of the bears emitting +their warm breath through the airholes of their wild haunts. + +Nekhludoff remembered all that, and above all the happy consciousness +of his own health, strength and freedom from care. His lungs, +straining his tight-fitting fur coat, inhaled the frosty air; the +trees, grazed by the shaft, sent showers of white flakes into his +face; his body was warm, his face ruddy; his soul was without a care +or blemish, or fear or desire. How happy he was! But now? My God! How +painful and unbearable it all was! + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + + +Rising the next morning Nekhludoff recalled the events of the previous +day and was seized with fear. + +But, notwithstanding this fear, he was even more determined than +before to carry out his plan already begun. + +With this consciousness of the duty that lay upon him he drove to +Maslenikoff for permission to visit in jail, besides Maslova, the old +woman Menshova and her son, of whom Maslova had spoken to him. +Besides, he also wished to see Bogodukhovskaia, who might be useful to +Maslova. + +Nekhludoff had known Maslenikoff since they together served in the +army. Maslenikoff was the treasurer of the regiment. He was the most +kind-hearted officer, and possessed executive ability. Nothing in +society was of any interest to him, and he was entirely absorbed in +the affairs of the regiment. Nekhludoff now found him an administrator +in the civil government. He was married to a rich and energetic woman +to whom was due his change of occupation. + +She laughed at him and patted him as she would a tamed animal. +Nekhludoff had visited them once the previous winter, but the couple +seemed so uninteresting to him that he never called again. + +Maslenikoff's face became radiant when he saw Nekhludoff. His face was +as fat and red, his dress as excellent as when he served in the army. +As an army officer he was always neat, dressed in a tight uniform made +according to the latest style; now his dress fitted his well-fed body +as perfectly. He wore a uniform. Notwithstanding the difference in +their age--Maslenikoff was about forty--they familiarly "thoued" each +other. + +"Very glad you remembered me. Come to my wife. I have just ten minutes +to spare, and then I must to the session. My chief, you know, is away. +I am directing the affairs of the district," he said, with joy which +he could not conceal. + +"I came to you on business." + +"What's that?" Maslenikoff said in a frightened and somewhat stern +voice, suddenly pricking his ears. + +"There is a person in jail in whom I am very much interested;" at the +word "jail" Maslenikoff's face became even more stern, "and I would +like to have the right of interview in the office instead of the +common reception room, and oftener than on the appointed days. I was +told that it depended on you." + +"Of course, mon cher, I am always ready to do anything for you," +Maslenikoff said, touching his knees with both hands, as if desiring +to soften his own greatness. "I can do it, but you know I am caliph +only for an hour." + +"So you can give me a pass that will enable me to see her?" + +"It is a woman?" + +"Yes." + +"What is the charge against her?" + +"Poisoning. But she was irregularly convicted." + +"Yes, there is justice for you! Ils n'en font point d'autres," he +said, for some reason in French. "I know that you do not agree with +me, but c'est mon opinion bien arretee," he added, repeating the +opinion that had been reiterated during the past year by a retrograde, +conservative newspaper. "I know you are a liberal." + +"I don't know whether I am a liberal or something else," smilingly +said Nekhludoff, who always wondered at being joined to some party, or +called a liberal only because he held that a man must not be judged +without being heard; that all are equal before the law; that it is +wrong to torture and beat people generally, especially those that are +not convicted. "I don't know whether I am a liberal or not, but I do +know that our present courts, bad as they are, are nevertheless better +than those that preceded them." + +"And what lawyer have you retained?" + +"I have retained Fanarin." + +"Ah, Fanarin!" Maslenikoff said, frowning as he recalled how Fanarin, +examining him as a witness the year before, in the most polite manner +made him the butt of ridicule. + +"I would not advise you to have anything to do with him. Fanarin est +un homme tare." + +"I have another request to make of you," Nekhludoff said, without +answering him. "A long time ago I made the acquaintance of a girl +teacher, a very wretched creature. She is now in jail and desires to +see me. Can you give me a pass to her?" + +Maslenikoff leaned his head to one side and began to reflect. + +"She is a political." + +"Yes, I was told so." + +"You know politicals can only be seen by their relatives, but I will +give you a general pass. Je sais que vous n'abuserez pas----" + +"What is the name of this your protege? Bogodukhovskaia? Elle est +jolie?" + +"Hideuse." + +Maslenikoff disapprovingly shook his head, went to the table and on a +sheet of paper with a printed letter-head wrote in a bold hand: "The +bearer, Prince Dmitri Ivanovich Nekhludoff, is hereby permitted to +visit the prisoners, Maslova and Bogodukhovskaia, now detained in the +prison," and signed his name to it with a broad flourish. + +"You will see now what order there is in prison. And to keep order +there is very difficult, because it is overcrowded, especially by +those to be transported. But I watch over them, and like the +occupation. You will see there are very many there, but they are +content, and are faring well. It is necessary to know how to deal with +them. Some unpleasantness occurred there a few days ago--disobedience. +Another man in my place would have treated it as a riot and made many +people miserable, but we arranged it all pleasantly. What is necessary +is solicitude on the one hand, and prompt and vigorous dealing on the +other," he said, clenching his soft, white fist projecting from under +a white, starched cuff and adorned with a turquoise ring--"solicitude +and vigorous dealing." + +"Well, I don't know about that," said Nekhludoff. "I was there twice, +and I was very much distressed by the sight." + +"You know what I will tell you? You ought to get acquainted with +Princess Passek," continued Maslenikoff, who had become talkative; +"she has entirely devoted herself to this cause. Elle fait beaucoup +de bien. Thanks to her and, without false modesty, to myself, +everything has been changed, and changed so that none of the old +horrors can be found there, and they are decidedly well off there. You +will see it. There is Fanarin. I am not personally acquainted with +him; besides, our roads do not meet because of my position in society, +but he is decidedly a bad man, and allows himself to state in court +such things, such things!" + +"Well, thank you," said Nekhludoff, taking the document, and took +leave of his old comrade. + +"Would you not like to see my wife?" + +"No, thank you; I have no time now." + +"Well, now, she will never forgive me," said Maslenikoff, conducting +his old comrade to the first landing, as he did with people of +secondary importance, among whom he reckoned Nekhludoff. "Do come but +for a moment." + +But Nekhludoff was firm, and while the footman and porter sprang +toward him, handing him his overcoat and cane, and opening the door, +before which a policeman stood, he excused himself, pleading want of +time. + +"Well, then, Thursday, please. That is her reception day. I will tell +her!" Maslenikoff shouted from the top of the stairs. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + + +From Maslenikoff, Nekhludoff went directly to the prison and +approached the familiar apartments of the inspector. The sounds of a +tuneless piano again assailed his ears, but this time it was not a +rhapsody that was played, but a study by Clementi, and, as before, +with unusual force, precision and rapidity. The servant with a +handkerchief around one eye said that the captain was in, and showed +Nekhludoff into the small reception-room, in which was a lounge, a +table and a lamp, one side of the rose-colored shade of which was +scorched, standing on a knitted woolen napkin. The inspector appeared +with an expression of sadness and torment on his face. + +"Glad to see you. What can I do for you?" he said, buttoning up the +middle button of his uniform. + +"I went to the vice-governor, and here is my pass," said Nekhludoff, +handing him the document. "I would like to see Maslova." + +"Markova?" asked the inspector, who could not hear him on account of +the music. + +"Maslova." + +"O, yes! O, yes!" + +The inspector rose and approached the door through which Clementi's +roulade was heard. + +"Marusia; if you would only stop for a little while," he said in a +voice which showed that this music was the cross of his life; "I +cannot hear anything." + +The music ceased; discontented steps were heard, and some one looked +through the door. + +The inspector, as if relieved by the cessation of the music, lit a +thick cigarette of light tobacco and offered one to Nekhludoff, which +he refused. + +"Can Maslova----" + +"It is not convenient to see Maslova to-day," said the inspector. + +"Why?" + +"It is your own fault," slightly smiling, said the inspector. "Prince, +you must not give her any money. If you wish to give her money, leave +it with me; I will keep it for her. You see, you must have given her +money yesterday, for she bought wine--it is hard to eradicate that +evil--and is intoxicated to-day. In fact, she became unruly." + +"Is it possible?" + +"Why, I even had to employ strict measures, had her transferred to +another cell. She is very tractable, but, please do not give her +money. That is their failing." + +Nekhludoff quickly recalled the incident of yesterday, and he was +seized with fear. + +"And may I see Bogodukhovskaia, the political?" Nekhludoff asked, +after some silence. + +"Well, yes," said the inspector. "What are you doing here?" he turned +to a five-year-old girl who came into the room, walking toward her +father, her eyes riveted on Nekhludoff. "Look out, or you will fall," +he said, smiling, as the little girl, walking with her head turned +toward Nekhludoff, tripped on the carpet and ran to her father. + +"If she may be seen, I would go now." + +"Oh yes; she may be seen, of course," said the inspector, embracing +the little girl, who was still looking at Nekhludoff. "All right----" + +The inspector rose and gently turning the girl aside, walked into the +vestibule. + +He had scarcely donned the overcoat handed him by the girl with the +bandaged eye and crossed the threshold when the distinct sounds of +Clementi's roulade broke out. + +"She was at the Conservatory, but there is disorder in that +institution. But she is very gifted," said the inspector, walking down +the stairs. "She intends to appear at concerts." + +The inspector and Nekhludoff neared the prison. The wicket immediately +opened at the approach of the inspector. The wardens standing to +attention followed him with their eyes. Four men with heads half +shaved, carrying large vessels, met him in the vestibule, and as they +spied him slunk back. One of them, in a particularly gloomy way, knit +his brow, his black eyes flashing fire. + +"Of course, her talent must be perfected; it cannot be neglected. But +in a small apartment it is hard, you know," the inspector continued +the conversation without paying any attention to the prisoners, and +dragging his tired legs passed into the meeting-room, followed by +Nekhludoff. + +"Whom do you wish to see?" asked the inspector. + +"Bogodukhovskaia." + +"That is from the tower. You will have to wait a little," he turned to +Nekhludoff. + +"Couldn't you let me see, meantime, the prisoners Menshov--mother and +son--who are charged with incendiarism?" + +"That is from cell 21. Why, yes; they may be called out." + +"Would you allow me to see the son in his cell?" + +"It is quieter in the meeting-room." + +"But it is interesting to see him there." + +"Interesting!" + +At that moment a dashing officer, the inspector's assistant, appeared +at a side door. + +"Conduct the Prince to Menshov's cell--No. 21," said the inspector to +his assistant. "Then show him to the office. And I will call--what is +her name?" + +"Vera Bogodukhovskaia," said Nekhludoff. + +The inspector's assistant was a light-haired young officer with dyed +mustache, who spread around him the odor of perfume. + +"Follow me, please." He turned to Nekhludoff with a pleasant smile. +"Does our institution interest you?" + +"Yes. And I am also interested in that man who, I was told, is +innocent." The assistant shrugged his shoulders. + +"Yes, that may be," he said calmly, courteously admitting the guest +into the ill-smelling corridor. "But they also lie often. Walk in, +please." + +The doors of the cells were open, and some prisoners stood in the +corridor. Slightly nodding to the wardens and looking askance at the +prisoners, who either pressed against the walls, entered their cells, +or, stopping at the doors, stood erect like soldiers, the assistant +escorted Nekhludoff through one corridor into another, on the left, +which was iron-bolted. + +This corridor was darker and more ill-smelling than the first. There +was a row of cells on each side, the doors of which were locked. There +was a hole in each door--eyelet, so called--of about an inch in +diameter. There was no one in this corridor except an old warden with +a wrinkled, sad face. + +"Where is Menshov's cell?" asked the assistant. + +"The eighth one on the left." + +"Are these occupied?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"All but one." + + + + +CHAPTER L. + + +"May I look in?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"If you please," the assistant said with a pleasant smile, and began +to make inquiries of the warden. Nekhludoff looked through one of the +openings. A tall young man with a small black beard, clad only in his +linen, walked rapidly up and down the floor of his cell. Hearing a +rustle at the door, he looked up, frowned, and continued to walk. + +Nekhludoff looked into the second opening. His eye met another large, +frightened eye. He hastily moved away. Looking into the third, he saw +a small-sized man sleeping curled up on a cot, his head covered with +his prison coat. In the fourth cell a broad-faced, pale-looking man +sat with lowered head, his elbows resting on his knees. Hearing steps, +this man raised his head and looked up. In his face and eyes was an +expression of hopeless anguish. He was apparently unconcerned about +who it was that looked into his cell. Whoever it might be, he +evidently hoped for no good from any one. Nekhludoff was seized with +fear, and he hastened to Number 21--Menshov's cell. The warden +unlocked and opened the door. A young, muscular man with a long neck, +kindly, round eyes and small beard, stood beside his cot, hastily +donning his prison coat and, with frightened face, looking at the two +men who had entered. Nekhludoff was particularly struck by the kindly, +round eyes whose wondering and startled look ran from him to the +warden and back. + +"This gentleman wishes to ask you about your case." + +"Thank you." + +"Yes, I was told about your case," said Nekhludoff, going into the +depth of the cell and stopping at the barred, dirty window, "and would +like to hear it from yourself." + +Menshov also drew near the window and immediately began to relate the +particulars of his case--at first timidly, from time to time glancing +at the warden, then growing bolder and bolder. And when the warden +had left the cell to give some orders, his timidity left him entirely. +Judging by his speech and manner, his was a story of a simple, honest +peasant, and it seemed very strange to Nekhludoff to hear it from the +lips of a prisoner in the garb of disgrace and in prison. While +listening to him, Nekhludoff examined the low cot, with its straw +mattress, the window, with its thick iron bars, the damp, plastered +walls, the pitiful face and the figure of the unfortunate, mutilated +peasant in bast shoes and prison coat, and he became sad; he would not +believe that what this kind-hearted man told him was true. And it was +still harder to think that this truthful story should be false, and +that kindly face should deceive him. His story, in short, was that +soon after his wedding a tapster enticed away his wife. He had +recourse to the law everywhere, and the tapster was everywhere +acquitted. Once he took her away by force, but she ran away the +following day. He went to the seducer, demanding his wife. The tapster +told him that she was not there, although he saw her when coming in, +and ordered him to depart. He would not go. Then the tapster and +another workman beat him until he bled, and the following day the +tapster's house took fire. He and his mother were charged with +incendiarism, although at the time the fire broke out he was visiting +a friend. + +"And you really did not set the fire?" + +"I never even thought of such a thing, master. The villain must have +done it himself. They say that he had just insured his house. And he +said that I and my mother came and threatened him. It is true, I +abused him at that time--couldn't help it--but I did not set the fire, +and was not even in the neighborhood when the fire started. He set the +fire purposely on the day I was there with my mother. He did it for +the insurance money, and threw it on us." + +"Is it possible?" + +"As true as there is a living God, master. Do help us!" He was about +to bow to the ground, but Nekhludoff forcibly prevented him. "Release +me. I am suffering here innocently," he continued. His face suddenly +began to twitch; tears welled up in his eyes, and, rolling up the +sleeve of his coat, he began to wipe his eyes with the dirty sleeve +of his shirt. + +"Have you finished?" asked the warden. + +"Yes. Cheer up; I will do what I can for you," Nekhludoff said, and +walked out. Menshov stood in the door, so that when the warden closed +it he pushed him in. While the warden was locking the door, Menshov +looked through the hole. + + + + +CHAPTER LI. + + +It was dinner time when Nekhludoff retraced his steps through the wide +corridor, and the cells were open. The prisoners, in light yellow +coats, short, wide trousers and prison shoes, eyed him greedily. +Nekhludoff experienced strange feelings and commiseration for the +prisoners, and, for some reason, shame that he should so calmly view +it. + +In one of the corridors a man, clattering with his prison shoes, ran +into one of the cells, and immediately a crowd of people came out, +placed themselves in his way, and bowed. + +"Your Excellency--I don't know what to call you--please order that our +case be decided." + +"I am not the commander. I do not know anything." + +"No matter. Tell them, the authorities, or somebody," said an +indignant voice, "to look into our case. We are guilty of no offense, +and have been in prison the second month now." + +"How so? Why?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"We don't know ourselves why, but we have been here the second month." + +"That is true," said the assistant inspector. "They were taken because +they had no passports, and they were to be transported to their +district, but the prison had burned down there, and the authorities +asked us to keep them here. Those belonging to other districts were +transported, but these we keep here." + +"Is that the only reason?" asked Nekhludoff, stopping in the doorway. + +The crowd, consisting of about forty men, all in prison garb, +surrounded Nekhludoff and the assistant. Several voices began talking +at once. The assistant stopped them. + +"Let one of you speak." + +A tall old man of good mien came forward. He told Nekhludoff that they +were all imprisoned on the ground that they had no passports, but +that, as a matter of fact, they had passports which had expired and +were not renewed for about two weeks. It happened every year, but they +were never even fined. And now they were imprisoned like criminals. + +"We are all masons and belong to the same association. They say that +the prison has burned down, but that isn't our fault. For God's sake, +help us!" + +Nekhludoff listened, but scarcely understood what the old man was +saying. + +"How is that? Can it be possible that they are kept in prison for that +sole reason?" said Nekhludoff, turning to the assistant. + +"Yes, they ought to be sent to their homes," said the assistant. + +At that moment a small-sized man, also in prison attire, pushed his +way through the crowd and began to complain excitedly that they were +being tortured without any cause. + +"Worse than dogs----" he began. + +"Tut, tut! do not talk too much, or else you know----" + +"Know what?" said the little man desperately. "Are we guilty of +anything?" + +"Silence!" shouted the assistant, and the little man subsided. + +"What a peculiar state of things!" Nekhludoff said to himself as he +ran the gauntlet, as it were, of a hundred eyes that followed him +through the corridor. + +"Is it possible that innocent people are held in durance here?" +Nekhludoff said, when they emerged from the corridor. + +"What can we do? However, many of them are lying. If you ask them, +they all claim to be innocent," said the assistant inspector; +"although some are there really without any cause whatever." + +"But these masons don't seem to be guilty of any offense." + +"That is true so far as the masons are concerned. But those people +are spoiled. Some measure of severity is necessary. They are not all +as innocent as they look. Only yesterday we were obliged to punish two +of them." + +"Punish, how?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"By flogging. It was ordered----" + +"But corporal punishment has been abolished." + +"Not for those that have been deprived of civil rights." + +Nekhludoff recalled what he had seen the other day while waiting in +the vestibule, and understood that the punishment had then been taking +place, and with peculiar force came upon him that mingled feeling of +curiosity, sadness, doubt, and moral, almost passing over into +physical, nausea which he had felt before, but never with such force. + +Without listening to the assistant or looking around him, he hastily +passed through the corridor and ascended to the office. The inspector +was in the corridor, and, busying himself with some affair, had forgot +to send for Bogodukhovskaia. He only called it to mind when Nekhludoff +entered the office. + +"I will send for her immediately. Take a seat," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER LII. + + +The office consisted of two rooms. In the first room, which had two +dirty windows and the plastering on the walls peeled off, a black +measuring rod, for determining the height of prisoners, stood in one +corner, while in another hung a picture of Christ. A few wardens stood +around in this room. In the second room, in groups and pairs, about +twenty men and women were sitting along the walls, talking in low +voices. A writing table stood near one of the windows. + +The inspector seated himself at the writing table and offered +Nekhludoff a chair standing near by. Nekhludoff seated himself and +began to examine the people in the room. + +His attention was first of all attracted by a young man with a +pleasant face, wearing a short jacket, who was standing before a man +prisoner and a girl, gesticulating and talking to them in a heated +manner. Beside them sat an old man in blue eye-glasses, immovably +holding the hand of a woman in prison garb and listening to her. A boy +in high-school uniform, with an expression of fright on his face, +stood gazing on the old man. Not far from them, in the corner, a pair +of lovers were sitting. She was a very young, pretty, stylishly-dressed +girl with short-cropped, flaxen hair and an energetic face; he was a +fine-featured, handsome youth, with wavy hair, and in a prison coat. +They occupied the corner, whispering to each other, apparently wrapped +in their love. Nearest of all to the table was a gray-haired woman in +black, evidently the mother of a consumptive young man in a rubber +jacket, who stood before her. Her eyes were fixed on him, and her +tears prevented her speaking, which she several times attempted to do, +but was forced to desist. The young man held a piece of paper in his +hand, and, evidently not knowing what to do, with an angry expression +on his face was folding and crumpling it. Sitting beside the weeping +mother, and patting her on the shoulder, was a stout, pretty girl with +red cheeks, in a gray dress and cape. Everything in this girl was +beautiful--the white hands, the wavy, short hair, the strong nose and +lips; but the principal charm of her face were her hazel, kindly, +truthful, sheep eyes. Her beautiful eyes turned on Nekhludoff at the +moment he entered, and met his. But she immediately turned them again +on her mother, and whispered to her something. Not far from the lovers +a dark man with gloomy face sat talking angrily to a clean-shaven +visitor resembling a Skopetz (a sect of castrates). At the very door +stood a young man in a rubber jacket, evidently more concerned about +the impression he was making on the visitors than what he was saying. +Nekhludoff sat down beside the inspector and looked around him with +intense curiosity. He was amused by a short-haired boy coming near him +and asking him in a shrill voice: + +"And whom are you waiting for?" + +The question surprised Nekhludoff, but, seeing the boy's serious, +intelligent face, with bright, attentive eyes, gravely answered that +he was awaiting a woman acquaintance. + +"Well, is she your sister?" asked the boy. + +"No, she is not my sister," Nekhludoff answered with surprise. "And +with whom are you?" + +"I am with mamma. She is a political," said the boy. + +"Maria Pavlovna, take away Kolia!" said the inspector, evidently +finding Nekhludoff's conversation with the boy contrary to the law. + +Maria Pavlovna, the same beautiful woman who had attracted +Nekhludoff's attention, rose and with heavy, long strides approached +him. + +"What is he asking you? Who you are?" she asked, slightly smiling with +her beautifully curved lips, and confidingly looking at him with her +prominent, kindly eyes, as though expecting Nekhludoff to know that +her relations to everybody always have been, are and ought to be +simple, affable, and brotherly. "He must know everything," she said, +and smiled into the face of the boy with such a kindly, charming smile +that both the boy and Nekhludoff involuntarily also smiled. + +"Yes, he asked me whom I came to see." + +"Maria Pavlovna, you know that it is not permitted to speak to +strangers," said the inspector. + +"All right," she said, and, taking the little hand of the boy into her +own white hand, she returned to the consumptive's mother. + +"Whose boy is that?" Nekhludoff asked the inspector. + +"He is the son of a political prisoner, and was born in prison." + +"Is it possible?" + +"Yes, and now he is following his mother to Siberia." + +"And that girl?" + +"I cannot answer it," said the inspector, shrugging his shoulders. +"Ah, there is Bogodukhovskaia." + + + + +CHAPTER LIII. + + +The short-haired, lean, yellow-faced Vera Efremovna, with her large, +kindly eyes, entered timidly through the rear door. + +"Well, I thank you for coming here," she said, pressing Nekhludoff's +hand. "You remember me? Let us sit down." + +"I did not expect to find you here." + +"Oh, I am doing excellently--so well, indeed, that I desire nothing +better," said Vera Efremovna, looking frightened, as usual, with her +kindly, round eyes at Nekhludoff, and turning her very thin, sinewy +neck, which projected from under the crumpled, dirty collar of her +waist. + +Nekhludoff asked her how she came to be in prison. She related her +case to him with great animation. Her discourse was interspersed with +foreign scientific terms about propaganda, disorganization, groups, +sections and sub-sections, which, she was perfectly certain, everybody +knew, but of which Nekhludoff had never even heard. + +She was evidently sure that it was both interesting and pleasant to +him to know all that she was relating. Nekhludoff, however, looked at +her pitiful neck, her thin, tangled hair, and wondered why she was +telling him all that. He pitied her, but not as he pitied the peasant +Menshov with his hands and face white as potato sprouts, and +innocently languishing in an ill-smelling prison. He pitied her on +account of the evident confusion that reigned in her head. She seemed +to consider herself a heroine, and showed off before him. And this +made her particularly pitiful. This trait Nekhludoff noticed in other +people then in the room. His arrival attracted their attention, and he +felt that they changed their demeanor because of his presence. This +trait was also present in the young man in the rubber jacket, in the +woman in prison clothes, and even in the actions of the two lovers. +The only people who did not possess this trait were the consumptive +young man, the beautiful girl with sheep eyes, and the dark-featured +man who was talking to the beardless man who resembled a Skopetz. + +The affair of which Vera Efremovna wished to speak to Nekhludoff +consisted of the following: A chum of hers, Shustova, who did not even +belong to her sub-section, was arrested because in her dwelling were +found books and papers which had been left with her for safe keeping. +Vera Efremovna thought that it was partly her fault that Shustova was +imprisoned, and implored Nekhludoff, who was well connected, to do +everything in his power to effect her release. + +Of herself, she related that, after having graduated as midwife, she +joined some party. At first everything went on smoothly, but afterward +one of the party was caught, the papers were seized, and then all were +taken in a police drag-net. + +"They also took me, and now I am going to be transported," she wound +up her story. "But that is nothing. I feel excellently," and she +smiled piteously. + +Nekhludoff asked her about the girl with the sheep eyes, and Vera +Efremovna told him that she was the daughter of a general, that she +had assumed the guilt of another person, and was now going to serve at +hard labor in Siberia. + +"An altruistic, honest person," said Vera Efremovna. + +The other case of which Vera Efremovna wished to speak concerned +Maslova. As the history of every prisoner was known to everyone in +prison, she knew Maslova's history, and advised him to procure her +removal to the ward for politicals, or, at least, to the hospital, +which was just now crowded, requiring a larger staff of nurses. + +Nekhludoff said that he could hardly do anything, but promised to make +an attempt when he reached St. Petersburg. + + + + +CHAPTER LIV. + + +Their conversation was interrupted by the inspector, who announced +that it was time to depart. Nekhludoff rose, took leave of Vera +Efremovna, and strode to the door, where he stopped to observe what +was taking place before him. + +"Ladies and gentlemen, the time is up," said the inspector as he was +going out. But neither visitors nor prisoners stirred. + +The inspector's demand only called forth greater animation, but no one +thought of departing. Some got up and talked standing; some continued +to talk sitting; others began to cry and take leave. The young man +continued to crumple the bit of paper, and he made such a good effort +to remain calm that his face seemed to bear an angry expression. His +mother, hearing that the visit was over, fell on his shoulder and +began to sob. The girl with the sheep eyes--Nekhludoff involuntarily +followed her movements--stood before the sobbing mother, pouring words +of consolation into her ear. The old man with the blue eye-glasses +held his daughter by the hand and nodded affirmatively to her words. +The young lovers rose, holding each other's hands and silently looking +into each other's eyes. + +"Those are the only happy people here," said the young man in the +rubber jacket who stood near Nekhludoff, pointing to the young lovers. + +Seeing the glances of Nekhludoff and the young man, the lovers--the +convict and the flaxen-haired girl--stretched their clasping hands, +threw back their heads, and began to dance in a circle. + +"They will be married this evening in the prison, and she will go with +him to Siberia," said the young man. + +"Who is he, then?" + +"He is a penal convict. Although they are making merry, it is very +painful to listen," added the young man, listening to the sobbing of +the old man with the blue eye-glasses. + +"Please, please don't compel me to take severe measures," said the +inspector, several times repeating the same thing. "Please, please," +he said, weakly and irresolutely. "Well, now, this cannot go on. +Please, now come. For the last time I repeat it," he said, in a sad +voice, seating himself and rising again; lighting and then +extinguishing his cigarette. + +Finally the prisoners and visitors began to depart--the former passing +through the inner, the latter through the outer, door. First the man +in the rubber coat passed out; then the consumptive and the +dark-featured convict; next Vera Efremovna and Maria Pavlovna, and the +boy who was born in the prison. + +The visitors also filed out. The old man with the blue eye-glasses +started with a heavy gait, and after him came Nekhludoff. + +"What a peculiar state of things!" said the talkative young man to +Nekhludoff on the stairs, as though continuing the interrupted +conversation. "It is fortunate that the captain is a kind-hearted +man, and does not enforce the rules. But for him it would be +tantalizing. As it is, they talk together and relieve their feelings." + +When Nekhludoff, talking to this man, who gave his name as Medyntzev, +reached the entrance-hall, the inspector, with weary countenance, +approached him. + +"So, if you wish to see Maslova, then please call to-morrow," he said, +evidently desiring to be pleasant. + +"Very well," said Nekhludoff, and hastened away. As on the former +occasion, besides pity he was seized with a feeling of doubt and a +sort of moral nausea. + +"What is all that for?" he asked himself, but found no answer. + + + + +CHAPTER LV. + + +On the following day Nekhludoff drove to the lawyer and told him of +the Menshovs' case, asking him to take up their defense. The lawyer +listened to him attentively, and said that if the facts were really as +told to Nekhludoff, he would undertake their defense without +compensation. Nekhludoff also told him of the hundred and thirty men +kept in prison through some misunderstanding, and asked him whose +fault he thought it was. The lawyer was silent for a short while, +evidently desiring to give an accurate answer. + +"Whose fault it is? No one's," he said decisively. "If you ask the +prosecutor, he will tell you that it is Maslenikoff's fault, and if +you ask Maslenikoff, he will tell you that it is the prosecutor's +fault. It is no one's fault." + +"I will go to Maslenikoff and tell him." + +"That is useless," the lawyer retorted, smiling. "He is--he is not +your friend or relative, is he? He is such a blockhead, and, saving +your presence, at the same time such a sly beast!" + +Nekhludoff recalled what Maslenikoff had said about the lawyer, made +no answer, and, taking leave, directed his steps toward Maslenikoff's +residence. + +Two things Nekhludoff wanted of Maslenikoff. First, to obtain +Maslova's transfer to the hospital, and to help, if possible, the +hundred and thirty unfortunates. Although it was hard for him to be +dealing with this man, and especially to ask favors of him, yet it was +the only way of gaining his end, and he had to go through it. + +As Nekhludoff approached Maslenikoff's house, he saw a number of +carriages, cabs and traps standing in front of it, and he recalled +that this was the reception day to which he had been invited. While +Nekhludoff was approaching the house a carriage was standing near the +curb, opposite the door, and a lackey in a cockaded silk hat and cape, +was seating a lady, who, raising the long train of her skirt, +displayed the sharp joints of her toes through the thin slippers. +Among the carriages he recognized the covered landau of the +Korchagins. The gray-haired, rosy-cheeked driver deferentially raised +his hat. Nekhludoff had scarcely asked the porter where Michael +Ivanovich (Maslenikoff) was, when the latter appeared on the carpeted +stairway, escorting a very important guest, such as he usually +escorted not to the upper landing, but to the vestibule. This very +important military guest, while descending the stairs, was conversing +in French about a lottery for the benefit of orphan asylums, giving +his opinion that it was a good occupation for ladies. "They enjoy +themselves while they are raising money." + +"Qu'elles s'amusent et que le bon Dieu les benisse. Ah, Nekhludoff, +how do you do? You haven't shown yourself for a long time," he greeted +Nekhludoff. "Allez presenter vos devoirs a madame. The Korchagins are +here, too. Toutes les jolies femmes de la ville," he said, holding out +and somewhat raising his military shoulders for his overcoat, which +was being placed on him by his own magnificent lackey in gold-braided +uniform. "Au revoir, mon cher." Then he shook Maslenikoff's hand. + +"Well, now let us go upstairs. How glad I am," Maslenikoff began +excitedly, seizing Nekhludoff by the arm, and, notwithstanding his +corpulence, nimbly leading him up the stairs. Maslenikoff was in a +particularly happy mood, which Nekhludoff could not help ascribing to +the attention shown him by the important person. Every attention shown +him by an important person put him into such an ecstasy as may be +observed in a fawning little dog when its master pats it, strokes it, +and scratches under its ears. It wags its tail, shrinks, wriggles, +and, straightening its ears, madly runs in a circle. Maslenikoff was +ready to do the same thing. He did not notice the grave expression on +Nekhludoff's face, nor hear what he was saying, but irresistibly +dragged him into the reception-room. Nekhludoff involuntarily +followed. + +"Business afterward. I will do anything you wish," said Maslenikoff, +leading him through the parlor. "Announce Prince Nekhludoff to Her +Excellency," he said on the way to a lackey. The lackey, in an ambling +gait, ran ahead of them. "Vous n'avez qu'a ordonner. But you must see +my wife without fail. She would not forgive my failure to present you +last time you were here." + +The lackey had already announced him when they entered, and Anna +Ignatievna, the vice-governess--Mrs. General, as she called +herself--sat on a couch surrounded by ladies. As Nekhludoff approached +she was already leaning forward with a radiant smile on her face. At +the other end of the reception-room women sat around a table, while +men in military uniforms and civil attire stood over them. An +incessant cackle came from that direction. + +"Enfin! Why do you estrange yourself? Have we offended you in any +way?" + +With these words, presupposing an intimacy between her and Nekhludoff, +which never existed, Anna Ignatievna greeted him. + +"Are you acquainted? Madam Beliavskaia--Michael Ivanovich Chernoff. +Take a seat here." + +"Missy, venez donc a notre table. On vous opportera votre the. And +you," she turned to the officer who was conversing with Missy, +evidently forgetting his name, "come here, please. Will you have some +tea, Prince?" + +"No, no; I will never agree with you. She simply did not love him," +said a woman's voice. + +"But she loved pie." + +"Eternally those stupid jests," laughingly interfered another lady in +a high hat and dazzling with gold and diamonds. + +"C'est excellent, these waffles, and so light! Let us have some more." + +"Well, how soon are you going to leave us?" + +"Yes, this is the last day. That is why we came here." + +"Such a beautiful spring! How pleasant it is in the country!" + +Missy in her hat and some dark, striped dress which clasped her waist +without a wrinkle, was very pretty. She blushed when she saw +Nekhludoff. + +"I thought you had left the city," she said to him. + +"Almost. Business keeps me here. I come here also for business." + +"Call on mamma. She is very anxious to see you," she said, and, +feeling that she was lying, and that he understood it, her face turned +a still deeper purple. + +"I shall hardly have the time," gloomily answered Nekhludoff, +pretending not to see that she was blushing. + +Missy frowned angrily, shrugged her shoulders, and turned to an +elegant officer, who took from her hands the empty teacup and +valiantly carried it to another table, his sword striking every object +it encountered. + +"You must also contribute toward the asylum." + +"I am not refusing, only I wish to keep my contribution for the +lottery. There I will show all my liberality." + +"Don't forget, now," a plainly dissimulating laugh was heard. + +The reception day was brilliant, and Anna Ignatievna was delighted. + +"Mika told me that you busy yourself in the prisons. I understand it +very well," she said to Nekhludoff. "Mika"--she meant her stout +husband, Maslenikoff--"may have his faults, but you know that he is +kind. All these unfortunate prisoners are his children. He does not +look on them in any other light. Il est d'une bonte----" + +She stopped, not finding words to express bonte of a husband, and +immediately, smiling, turned to an old, wrinkled woman in +lilac-colored bows who had just entered. + +Having talked as much and as meaninglessly as it was necessary to +preserve the decorum, Nekhludoff arose and went over to Maslenikoff. + +"Will you please hear me now?" + +"Ah! yes. Well, what is it?" + +"Come in here." + +They entered a small Japanese cabinet and seated themselves near the +window. + + + + +CHAPTER LVI. + + +"Well, je suis a vous. Will you smoke a cigarette? But wait; we must +not soil the things here," and he brought an ash-holder. "Well?" + +"I want two things of you." + +"Is that so?" + +Maslenikoff's face became gloomy and despondent. All traces of that +animation of the little dog whom its master had scratched under the +ears entirely disappeared. Voices came from the reception-room. One, a +woman's voice, said: "Jamais, jamais je ne croirais;" another, a man's +voice from the other corner, was telling something, constantly +repeating: "La Comtesse Vorouzoff" and "Victor Apraksine." From the +third side only a humming noise mingled with laughter was heard. +Maslenikoff listened to the voices; so did Nekhludoff. + +"I want to talk to you again about that woman." + +"Yes; who was innocently condemned. I know, I know." + +"I would like her to be transferred to the hospital. I was told that +it can be done." + +Maslenikoff pursed up his lips and began to meditate. + +"It can hardly be done," he said. "However, I will consult about it, +and will wire you to-morrow." + +"I was told that there are many sick people in the hospital, and they +need assistants." + +"Well, yes. But I will let you know, as I said." + +"Please do," said Nekhludoff. + +There was a burst of general and even natural laughter in the +reception-room. + +"That is caused by Victor," said Maslenikoff, smiling. "He is +remarkably witty when in high spirits." + +"Another thing," said Nekhludoff. "There are a hundred and thirty men +languishing in prison for the only reason that their passports were +not renewed in time. They have been in prison now for a month." + +And he related the causes that kept them there. + +"How did you come to know it?" asked Nekhludoff, and his face showed +disquietude and displeasure. + +"I was visiting a prisoner, and these people surrounded me and +asked----" + +"What prisoner were you visiting?" + +"The peasant who is innocently accused, and for whom I have obtained +counsel. But that is not to the point. Is it possible that these +innocent people are kept in prison only because they failed to renew +their passports?" + +"That is the prosecutor's business," interrupted Maslenikoff, somewhat +vexed. "Now, you say that trials must be speedy and just. It is the +duty of the assistant prosecutor to visit the prisons and see that no +one is innocently kept there. But these assistants do nothing but play +cards." + +"So you can do nothing for them?" Nekhludoff asked gloomily, recalling +the words of the lawyer, that the governor would shift the +responsibility. + +"I will see to it. I will make inquiries immediately." + +"So much the worse for her. C'est un souffre-douleur," came from the +reception-room, the voice of a woman apparently entirely indifferent +to what she was saying. + +"So much the better; I will take this," from the other side was heard +a man's playful voice, and the merry laughter of a woman who refused +him something. + +"No, no, for no consideration," said a woman's voice. + +"Well, then, I will do everything," repeated Maslenikoff, +extinguishing the cigarette with his white hand, on which was a +turquoise ring. "Now, let us go to the ladies." + +"And yet another question," said Nekhludoff, without going into the +reception-room, and stopping at the door. "I was told that some people +in the prison were subjected to corporal punishment. Is it true?" + +Maslenikoff's face flushed. + +"Ah! you have reference to that affair? No, mon cher, you must +positively not be admitted there--you want to know everything. Come, +come; Annette is calling us," he said, seizing Nekhludoff's arm with +the same excitement he evinced after the attention shown him by the +important person, but this time alarming, and not joyful. + +Nekhludoff tore himself loose, and, without bowing or saying +anything, gloomily passed through the reception-room, the parlor and +by the lackeys, who sprang to their feet in the ante-chamber, to the +street. + +"What is the matter with him? What did you do to him?" Annette asked +her husband. + +"That is a la francaise," said some one. + +"Rather a la zoulon." + +"Oh, he has always been queer." + +Some one arose, some one arrived, and the chirping continued. + +The following morning Nekhludoff received from Maslenikoff a letter on +heavy, glossy paper, bearing a coat-of-arms and seals, written in a +fine, firm hand, in which he said that he had written to the prison +physician asking that Maslova be transferred, and that he hoped his +request would be acceded to. It was signed, "Your loving senior +comrade," followed by a remarkably skillful flourish. + +"Fool!" Nekhludoff could not help exclaiming, especially because he +felt that by the word "comrade" Maslenikoff was condescending, i. e., +although he considered himself a very important personage, he +nevertheless was not too proud of his greatness, and called himself +his comrade. + + + + +CHAPTER LVII. + + +One of the most popular superstitions consists in the belief that +every man is endowed with definite qualities--that some men are kind, +some wicked; some wise, some foolish; some energetic, some apathetic, +etc. This is not true. We may say of a man that he is oftener kind +than wicked; oftener wise than foolish; oftener energetic than +apathetic, and vice versa. But it would not be true to say of one man +that he is always kind or wise, and of another that he is always +wicked or foolish. And yet we thus divide people. This is erroneous. +Men are like rivers--the water in all of them, and at every point, is +the same, but every one of them is now narrow, now swift, now wide, +now calm, now clear, now cold, now muddy, now warm. So it is with +men. Every man bears within him the germs of all human qualities, +sometimes manifesting one quality, sometimes another; and often does +not resemble himself at all, manifesting no change. With some people +these changes are particularly sharp. And to this class Nekhludoff +belonged. These changes in him had both physical and spiritual causes; +and one of these changes he was now undergoing. + +That feeling of solemnity and joy of rejuvenation which he had +experienced after the trial and after his first meeting with Katiousha +had passed away, and, after the last meeting, fear and even disgust +toward her had taken its place. He was also conscious that his duty +was burdensome to him. He had decided not to leave her, to carry out +his intention of marrying her, if she so desired; but this was painful +and tormenting to him. + +On the day following his visit to Maslenikoff he again went to the +prison to see her. + +The inspector permitted him to see her; not in the office, however, +nor in the lawyer's room, but in the women's visiting-room. +Notwithstanding his kind-heartedness, the inspector was more reserved +than formerly. Evidently Nekhludoff's conversations with Maslenikoff +had resulted in instructions being given to be more careful with this +visitor. + +"You may see her," he said, "only please remember what I told you as +to giving her money. And as to her transfer to the hospital, about +which His Excellency has written, there is no objection to it, and the +physician also consented. But she herself does not wish it. 'I don't +care to be chambermaid to that scurvy lot,' she said. That is the kind +of people they are, Prince," he added. + +Nekhludoff made no answer and asked to be admitted to her. The +inspector sent the warden, and Nekhludoff followed him into the empty +visiting-room. + +Maslova was already there, quietly and timidly emerging from behind +the grating. She approached close to Nekhludoff, and, looking past +him, quietly said: + +"Forgive me, Dmitri Ivanovich; I have spoken improperly the other +day." + +"It is not for me to forgive you----" Nekhludoff began. + +"But you must leave me," she added, and in the fearfully squinting +eyes with which she glanced at him Nekhludoff again saw a strained and +spiteful expression. + +[Illustration: EASTER SERVICES.] + +"But why should I leave you?" + +"So." + +"Why so?" + +She again looked at him with that spiteful glance, as it seemed to +him. + +"Well, then, I will tell you," she said. "You leave me--I tell you +that truly. I cannot. You must drop that entirely," she said, with +quivering lips, and became silent. "That is true. I would rather hang +myself." + +Nekhludoff felt that in this answer lurked a hatred for him, an +unforgiven wrong, but also something else--something good and +important. This reiteration of her refusal in a perfectly calm state +destroyed in Nekhludoff's soul all his doubts, and brought him back to +his former grave, solemn and benign state of mind. + +"Katiousha, I repeat what I said," he said, with particular gravity. +"I ask you to marry me. If, however, you do not wish to, and so long +as you do not wish to, I will be wherever you will be, and follow you +wherever you may be sent." + +"That is your business. I will speak no more," she said, and again her +lips quivered. + +He was also silent, feeling that he had no strength to speak. + +"I am now going to the country, and from there to St. Petersburg," he +said finally. "I will press your--our case, and with God's help the +sentence will be set aside." + +"I don't care if they don't. I deserved it, if not for that, for +something else," she said, and he saw what great effort she had to +make to repress her tears. + +"Well, have you seen Menshova?" she asked suddenly, in order to hide +her agitation. "They are innocent, are they not?" + +"Yes, I think so." + +"Such a wonderful little woman!" she said. + +He related everything he had learned from Menshova, and asked her if +she needed anything. She said she needed nothing. + +They were silent again. + +"Well, and as to the hospital," she said suddenly, casting on him her +squinting glance, "if you wish me to go, I will go; and I will stop +wine drinking, too." + +Nekhludoff silently looked in her eyes. They were smiling. + +"That is very good," was all he could say. + +"Yes, yes; she is an entirely different person," thought Nekhludoff, +for the first time experiencing, after his former doubts, the to him +entirely new feeling of confidence in the invincibility of love. + + * * * * * + +Returning to her ill-smelling cell, Maslova removed her coat and sat +down on her cot, her hands resting on her knees. In the cell were only +the consumptive with her babe, the old woman, Menshova, and the +watch-woman with her two children. The deacon's daughter had been +removed to the hospital; the others were washing. The old woman lay on +the cot sleeping; the children were in the corridor, the door to which +was open. The consumptive with the child in her arms and the +watch-woman, who did not cease knitting a stocking with her nimble +fingers, approached Maslova. + +"Well, have you seen him?" they asked. + +Maslova dangled her feet, which did not reach the floor, and made no +answer. + +"What are you whimpering about?" said the watch-woman. "Above all, +keep up your spirits. Oh, Katiousha! Well?" she said, rapidly moving +her fingers. + +Maslova made no answer. + +"The women went washing. They say that to-day's alms were larger. Many +things have been brought, they say," said the consumptive. + +"Finashka!" shouted the watch-woman. "Where are you, you little +rogue?" She drew out one of the knitting needles, stuck it into the +ball of thread and stocking, and went out into the corridor. + +At this moment the inmates of the cell, with bare feet in their prison +shoes, entered, each bearing a loaf of twisted bread, some even two. +Theodosia immediately approached Maslova. + +"Why, anything wrong?" she asked, lovingly, looking with her bright, +blue eyes at Maslova. "And here is something for our tea," and she +placed the leaves on the shelf. + +"Well, has he changed his mind about marrying you?" asked Korableva. + +"No, he has not, but I do not wish to," answered Maslova, "and I told +him so." + +"What a fool!" said Korableva, in her basso voice. + +"What is the good of marrying if they cannot live together?" asked +Theodosia. + +"Is not your husband going with you?" answered the watch-woman. + +"We are legally married," said Theodosia. "But why should he marry her +legally if he cannot live with her?" + +"What a fool! Why, if he marries her he will make her rich!" + +"He said: 'Wherever you may be, I will be with you,'" said Maslova. + +"He may go if he likes; he needn't if he don't. I will not ask him. He +is now going to St. Petersburg to try to get me out. All the ministers +there are his relatives," she continued, "but I don't care for them." + +"Sure enough," Korableva suddenly assented, reaching down into her +bag, and evidently thinking of something else. "What do you say--shall +we have some wine?" + +"Not I," answered Maslova. "Drink yourselves." + + + + +PART SECOND. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +The Senate could hear the case in two weeks, and by that time +Nekhludoff intended to be in St. Petersburg, and, in case of an +adverse decision, to petition the Emperor, as the lawyer had advised. +In case the appeal failed, for which, his lawyer had told him, he must +be prepared, as the grounds of appeal were very weak, the party of +convicts to which Maslova belonged would be transported in May. It was +therefore necessary, in order to be prepared to follow Maslova to +Siberia, upon which Nekhludoff was firmly resolved, to go to the +villages and arrange his affairs there. + +First of all, he went to the Kusminskoie estate, the nearest, largest +black-earth estate, which brought the greatest income. He had lived on +the estate in his childhood and youth, and had also twice visited it +in his manhood, once when, upon the request of his mother, he brought +a German manager with whom he went over the affairs of the estate. So +that he knew its condition and the relations the peasants sustained +toward the office, i. e., the landowner. Their relations toward the +office were such that they have always been in absolute dependence +upon it. Nekhludoff had already known it when as a student he +professed and preached the doctrines of Henry George, and in carrying +out which he had distributed his father's estate among the peasants. +True, after his military career, when he was spending twenty thousand +rubles a year, those doctrines ceased to be necessary to the life he +was leading, were forgotten, and not only did he not ask himself where +the money came from, but tried not to think of it. But the death of +his mother, the inheritance, and the necessity of taking care of his +property, i. e., his lands, again raised the question in his mind of +his relation to private ownership of land. A month before Nekhludoff +would have argued that he was powerless to change the existing order +of things; that he was not managing the estate, and living and +receiving his income far away from the estate, would feel more or less +at ease. But now he resolved that, although there was before him a +trip to Siberia and complex and difficult relations to the prison +world, for which social standing, and especially money, were +necessary, he could not, nevertheless, leave his affairs in their +former condition, but must, to his own detriment, change them. For +this purpose he had decided not to work the land himself, but, by +renting it at a low price to the peasants, to make it possible for +them to live independent of the landlord. Often, while comparing the +position of the landlord with that of the owner of serfs, Nekhludoff +found a parallel in the renting of the land to the peasants, instead +of working it by hired labor, to what the slave-owners did when they +substituted tenancy for serfdom. That did not solve the question, but +it was a step toward its solution; it was a transition from a grosser +to a less gross form of ownership of man. He also intended to act +thus. + +Nekhludoff arrived at Kusminskoie about noon. In everything +simplifying his life, he did not wire from the station of his arrival, +but hired a two-horse country coach. The driver was a young fellow in +a nankeen regulation coat, belted below the waist, sitting sidewise on +the box. He was the more willing to carry on a conversation because +the broken-down, lame, emaciated, foaming shaft-horse could then walk, +which these horses always preferred. + +The driver spoke about the manager of the Kusminskoie estate, not +knowing that he was carrying its master, Nekhludoff purposely +refrained from enlightening him. + +"A dandy German," he said, turning half around, cracking his long whip +now over the heads, now under the horses. "There is nothing here to +compare with his fine team of three bay horses. You ought to see him +driving out with his wife! I took some guests to his house last +Christmas--he had a fine tree. You couldn't find the like of it in the +whole district! He robbed everybody, right and left. But what does he +care? He is bossing everybody. They say he bought a fine estate." + +Nekhludoff thought that he was indifferent to the manner of the +German's management, and to the way he was profiting by it. But the +story of the driver with the long waist was unpleasant to him. He was +enchanted with the fine weather; the darkening clouds, sometimes +obscuring the sun; the fields over which the larks soared; the woods, +just covering up the top and bottom with green; the meadows on which +the flocks and horses browsed, and the fields on which plowmen were +already seen--but a feeling of dissatisfaction crept over him. And +when he asked himself the reason for it, he recalled the driver's +account of the German's management. + +But by the time he was busying himself with the affairs of Kusminskoie +he had forgotten it. + +After an examination of the books and his conversation with the clerk, +who artlessly set forth the advantages of the peasants having small +holdings and the fact that they were hemmed in by the master's land, +Nekhludoff grew only more determined to put an end to his ownership, +and give the land to the peasants. From the books and his +conversations with the clerk he learned that, as before, two-thirds of +the best arable land was cultivated by his own men, and the rest by +peasants who were paid five rubles per acre--that is to say, for five +rubles the peasant undertook to plow, harrow and sow an acre of land +three times, then mow it, bind or press it, and carry it to the barn. +In other words, he was paid five rubles for what hired, cheap labor +would cost at least ten rubles. Again, the prices paid by the peasants +to the office for necessaries were enormous. They worked for meadow, +for wood, for potatoe seed, and they were almost all in debt to the +office. Thus, the rent charged the peasants for lands beyond the +fields was four times as great as it could bring on a five per cent. +basis. + +Nekhludoff knew all that before, but he was now learning it as +something new, and only wondered why he and all those who stood in a +similar position could fail to see the enormity of such relations. The +arguments of the clerk that not one-fourth of the value of the stock +could be realized on a sale, that the peasants would permit the land +to run to waste, only strengthened his determination and confirmed +him in his belief that he was doing a good deed by giving the land to +the peasants, and depriving himself of the greater part of his income. +Desiring to dispose of the land forthwith, he asked the manager to +call together the peasants of the three villages surrounded by his +lands the very next day, for the purpose of declaring to them his +intention and agreeing with them as to the price. + +With a joyful consciousness of his firmness, in spite of the arguments +of the manager, and his readiness to make sacrifices for the peasants, +Nekhludoff left the office, and, reflecting on the coming arrangement, +he strolled around the house, through the flower-garden, which lay +opposite the manager's house, and was neglected this year; over the +lawn-tennis ground, overgrown with chicory, and through the alleys +lined with lindens, where it had been his wont to smoke his cigar, and +where, three years before, the pretty visitor, Kirimova, flirted with +him. Having made an outline of a speech, which he was to deliver to +the peasants the following day, Nekhludoff went to the manager's +house, and after further deliberating upon the proper disposition of +the stock, he calmly and contentedly retired to a room prepared for +him in the large building. + +In this clean room, the walls of which were covered with views of +Venice, and with a mirror hung between two windows, there was placed a +clean spring bedstead and a small table with water and matches. On a +large table near the mirror lay his open traveling-bag with toilet +articles and books which he brought with him; one Russian book on +criminology, one in German, and a third in English treating of the +same subject. He intended to read them in spare moments while +traveling through the villages, but as he looked on them now he felt +that his mind was far from these subjects. Something entirely +different occupied him. + +In one corner of the room there stood an ancient arm-chair with +incrustations, and the sight of this chair standing in his mother's +bed-room suddenly raised in his soul an unexpected feeling. He +suddenly felt sorry for the house that would decay, the gardens which +would be neglected, the woods which would be cut down, and all the +cattle-houses, courts, stables, sheds, machinery, horses, cows which +had been accumulated with such effort, although not by him. At first +it seemed to him easy to abandon all that, but now he was loth to part +with it, as well as the land and one-half of the income which would be +so useful now. And immediately serviceable arguments come to his aid, +by which it appeared that it was not wise to give the land to the +peasants and destroy his estate. + +"I have no right to own the land. And if I do not own the land, I +cannot keep the property intact. Besides, I will now go to Siberia, +and for that reason I need neither the house nor the estate," +whispered one voice. "All that is true," whispered another voice, "but +you will not pass all your life in Siberia. If you should marry, you +may have children. And you must hand over the estate to them in the +same condition in which you found it. There are duties toward the +land. It is easy to give away the land, to destroy everything; but it +is very hard to accumulate it. Above all, you must mark out a plan of +your life, and dispose of your property accordingly. And, then, are +you acting as you do in order to satisfy conscientious scruples, or +for the praise you expect of people?" Nekhludoff asked himself, and +could not help acknowledging that the talk that it would occasion +influenced his decision. And the more he thought the more questions +raised themselves, and the more perplexing they appeared. To rid +himself of these thoughts he lay down on the fresh-made bed, intending +to go over them again the next day with a clearer mind. But he could +not fall asleep for a long time. Along with the fresh air, through the +open window, came the croaking of frogs, interrupted by the whistling +of nightingales, one of which was in a lilac bush under the window. +Listening to the nightingales and the frogs, Nekhludoff recalled the +music of the inspector's daughter; and, thinking of that music, he +recalled Maslova--how, like the croaking of a frog, her lips trembled +when she said, "You must drop that." Then the German manager descended +to the frogs. He should have been held back, but not only did he come +down, but he was transformed into Maslova and started to taunt him: "I +am a convict, and you are a Prince." "No, I shall not yield," thought +Nekhludoff, and came to. "Am I acting properly or improperly?" he +asked himself. "I don't know; I will know to-morrow." And he began to +descend to where the manager and Maslova were. And there everything +ended. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +With a feeling of timidity and shame Nekhludoff the following morning, +walked out to meet the peasants who had gathered at a small square in +front of the house. As he approached them the peasants removed their +caps, and for a long time Nekhludoff could not say anything. Although +he was going to do something for the peasants which they never dared +even to think of, his conscience was troubled. The peasants stood in a +fine, drizzling rain, waiting to hear what their master had to say, +and Nekhludoff was so confused that he could not open his mouth. The +calm, self-confident German came to his relief. This strong, overfed +man, like Nekhludoff himself, made a striking contrast to the +emaciated, wrinkled faces of the peasants, and the bare shoulder-bones +sticking out from under their caftans. + +"The Prince came to befriend you--to give you the land, but you are +not worthy of it," said the German. + +"Why not worthy, Vasily Karlych? Have we not labored for you? We are +much satisfied with our late mistress--may she enjoy eternal +life!--and we are grateful to the young Prince for thinking of us," +began a red-haired peasant with a gift of gab. + +"We are not complaining of our masters," said a broad-faced peasant +with a long beard. "Only we are too crowded here." + +"That is what I called you here for--to give you the land, if you wish +it," said Nekhludoff. + +The peasants were silent, as if misunderstanding him, or incredulous. + +"In what sense do you mean to give us the land?" asked a middle-aged +peasant in a caftan. + +"To rent it to you, that you might use it at a low price." + +"That is the loveliest thing," said an old man. + +"If the payment is not above our means," said another. + +"Of course we will take the land." + +"It is our business--we get our sustenance from the land." + +"So much the better for you. All you have to do is to take the money. +And what sins you will spare yourself----" + +"The sin is on you," said the German. "If you would only work and keep +things in order----" + +"We cannot, Vasily Karlych," said a lean old man with a pointed nose. +"You ask, Who let the horse feed in the field? But who did it? Day in +and day out--and every day is as long as a year--I worked with the +scythe, and as I fell asleep the horse went among the oats. And now +you are fleecing me." + +"You should keep order." + +"It is easy for you to say keep order. But we have no strength," +retorted a middle-aged peasant, all covered with hair. + +"I told you to fence it in." + +"You give us the timber," said an unsightly little peasant. "When I +cut a joist last summer, intending to make a fence, you locked me up +for three months in the castle to feed the insects. There was a fence +for you!" + +"Is that true?" asked Nekhludoff of the manager. + +"Der erste dich im dorfe," said the manager in German. "He was caught +every year in the woods. You must learn to respect other people's +property." + +"Do we not respect you?" said an old man. "We cannot help respecting +you, because you have us in your hands, and you are twisting us into +rope." + +"If you would only abstain from doing wrong," said the manager. "It is +pretty hard to wrong you." + +"And who battered my face last summer? Of course, there is no use +going to law with a rich man." + +"You only keep within bounds of the law." + +This was evidently a wordy tourney of which the participants hardly +knew the purpose. Nekhludoff tried to get back to business. + +"Well, what do you say? Do you wish the land, and what price do you +set on it?" + +"It is your goods; you name the price." + +Nekhludoff set the price, and though much lower than the prevailing +price, the peasants began to bargain, finding it high. He expected +that his offer would be accepted with pleasure, but there was no sign +of satisfaction. Only when the question was raised whether the whole +community would take the land, or have individual arrangements did he +know that it was profitable for them. For there resulted fierce +quarrels between those who wished to exclude the weak ones and bad +payers from participating in the land, and those whom it was sought to +exclude. But the German finally arranged the price and time of +payment, and the peasants, noisily talking, returned to the village. + +The price was about thirty per cent. lower than the one prevailing in +the district, and Nekhludoff's income was reduced to almost one-half, +but, with money realized from the sale of the timber and yet to be +realized from the sale of the stock, it was amply sufficient for him. +Everything seemed to be satisfactory, and yet Nekhludoff felt sad and +lonesome, but, above all, his conscience troubled him. He saw that +although the peasants spoke words of thanks, they were not satisfied +and expected something more. The result was that while he deprived +himself of much, he failed to do that which the peasants expected. + +On the following day, after the contract was signed, Nekhludoff, with +an unpleasant feeling of having left something undone, seated himself +in the "dandy" three-horse team and took leave of the peasants, who +were shaking their heads in doubt and dissatisfaction. Nekhludoff was +dissatisfied with himself--he could not tell why, but he felt sad, and +was ashamed of something. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +From Kusminskoie Nekhludoff went to Panovo, the estate left him by his +aunts, and where he had first seen Katiousha. He intended to dispose +of this land in the same manner as he disposed of the other, and also +desired to learn all there was known about Katiousha, and to find out +if it was true that their child had died. + +As he sat at the window observing the familiar scenery of the now +somewhat neglected estate, he not only recalled, but felt himself as +he was fourteen years ago; fresh, pure and filled with the hope of +endless possibilities. But as it happens in a dream, he knew that that +was gone, and he became very sad. + +Before breakfast he made his way to the hut of Matrena Kharina, +Katiousha's aunt, who was selling liquor surreptitiously, for +information about the child, but all he could learn from her was that +the child had died on the way to a Moskow asylum; in proof of which +the midwife had brought a certificate. + +On his way back he entered the huts of some peasants, and inquired +about their mode of living. The same complaints of the paucity of +land, hunger and degradation he heard everywhere. He saw the same +pinched faces, threadbare homespuns, bare feet and bent shoulders. + +In front of a particularly dilapidated hut stood a number of women +with children in their arms, and among them he noticed a lean, +pale-faced woman, easily holding a bloodless child in a short garment +made of pieces of stuff. This child was incessantly smiling. +Nekhludoff knew that it was the smile of suffering. He asked who that +woman was. + +It transpired that the woman's husband had been in prison for the past +six months--"feeding the insects"--as they termed it, for cutting down +two lindens. + +Nekhludoff turned to the woman, Anisia. + +"How do you fare?" he asked. "What do you live on?" + +"How do I live? I sometimes get some food," and she began to sob. + +The grave face of the child, however, spread into a broad smile, and +its thin legs began to wriggle. + +Nekhludoff produced his pocketbook and gave the woman ten rubles. He +had scarcely made ten steps when he was overtaken by another woman +with a child; then an old woman, and again another woman. They all +spoke of their poverty and implored his help. Nekhludoff distributed +the sixty rubles that were in his pocketbook and returned home, i. e., +to the wing inhabited by the clerk. The clerk, smiling, met Nekhludoff +with the information that the peasants would gather in the evening, +as he had ordered. Nekhludoff thanked him and strolled about the +garden, meditating on what he had seen. "The people are dying in large +numbers, and are used to it; they have acquired modes of living +natural to a people who are becoming extinct--the death of children, +exhausting toil for women, insufficiency of food for all, especially +for the aged--all comes and is received naturally. They were reduced +to this condition gradually, so that they cannot see the horror of it, +and bear it uncomplainingly. Afterward, we, too, come to consider this +condition natural; that it ought to be so." + +All this was so clear to him now that he could not cease wondering how +it was that people could not see it; that he himself could not see +that which is so patent. It was perfectly clear that children and old +people were dying for want of milk, and they had no milk because they +had not land enough to feed the cattle and also raise bread and hay. +And he devised a scheme by which he was to give the land to the +people, and they were to pay an annual rent which was to go to the +community, to be used for common utilities and taxes. This was not the +single-tax, but it was the nearest approach to it under present +conditions. The important part consisted in that he renounced his +right to own land. + +When he returned to the house, the clerk, with a particularly happy +smile on his face, offered him dinner, expressing his fear that it +might spoil. + +The table was covered with a gloomy cloth, an embroidered towel +serving as a napkin, and on the table, in vieux-saxe, stood a +soup-bowl with a broken handle, filled with potato soup and containing +the same rooster that he had seen carried into the house on his +arrival. After the soup came the same rooster, fried with feathers, +and cakes made of cheese-curds, bountifully covered with butter and +sugar. Although the taste of it all was poor, Nekhludoff kept on +eating, being absorbed in the thoughts which relieved him of the +sadness that oppressed him on his return from the village. + +After dinner Nekhludoff with difficulty seated the superserviceable +clerk, and in order to make sure of himself and at the same time to +confide to some one the thoughts uppermost in his mind, told him of +his project and asked his opinion. The clerk smiled, as though he had +been thinking of the same thing, and was very glad to hear it, but in +reality did not understand it, not because Nekhludoff did not express +himself plainly enough, but because, according to this project, +Nekhludoff deprived himself of advantages for the benefit of others, +whereas the truth that every man strives to obtain advantages at the +expense of others, was so firmly rooted in the clerk's mind, that he +thought that he misunderstood Nekhludoff when the latter said that the +entire income of the land was to go into the community's treasury. + +"I understand. So you will draw the interest on the capital?" he said, +becoming radiant. + +"No, no. I transfer the land to them entirely." + +"In that case you will get no income?" asked the clerk and he ceased +to smile. + +"I relinquish that." + +The clerk sighed deeply, then began to smile again. Now he understood. +He understood that Nekhludoff's mind was not entirely sound, and he +immediately tried to find a way of profiting by Nekhludoff's project, +and endeavored to so construe it that he might turn it to his own +advantage. + +When, however, he understood that there was no such opportunity, he +ceased to take interest in the projects, and continued to smile only +to please his master. Seeing that the clerk could not understand him, +Nekhludoff dismissed him from his presence, seated himself at the +ink-stained table and proceeded to commit his project to paper. + +The sun was already descending behind the unfolding lindens, and the +mosquitos filled the room, stinging him. While he was finishing his +notes, Nekhludoff heard the lowing of cattle in the village, the +creaking of the opening gates and the voices of the peasants who were +coming to meet their master. Nekhludoff told the clerk not to call +them before the office, that he would go and meet them at any place in +the village, and gulping down a glass of tea offered him by the clerk, +he went to the village. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +The crowd stood talking in front of the house of the bailiff, and as +Nekhludoff approached, the conversation ceased and the peasants, like +those of Kusminskoie, removed their caps. It was a coarser crowd than +the peasants of Kusminskoie, and almost all the peasants wore bast +shoes and homespun shirts and caftans. Some of them were bare-footed +and only in their shirts. + +With some effort Nekhludoff began his speech by declaring that he +intended to surrender the land to them. The peasants were silent, and +there was no change in the expression of their faces. + +"Because I consider," said Nekhludoff, blushing, "that every man ought +to have the right to use the land." + +"Why, certainly." "That is quite right," voices of peasants were +heard. + +Nekhludoff continued, saying that the income from the land should be +distributed among all, and he therefore proposed that they take the +land and pay into the common treasury such rent as they may decide +upon, such money to be used for their own benefit. Exclamations of +consent and approbation continued to be heard, but the faces of the +peasants became more and more grave, and the eyes that at first were +fixed on the master were lowered, as if desiring not to shame him with +the fact that his cunning was understood by all, and that he could not +fool anybody. + +Nekhludoff spoke very clearly, and the peasants were sensible folks; +but he was not understood, and could not be understood by them for the +same reason which prevented the clerk from understanding him for a +long time. They were convinced that it was natural for every man to +look out for his own interest. And as to the land owners, the +experience of several generations had taught them long ago that these +were always serving their own interests. + +"Well, what rate do you intend to assess," asked Nekhludoff. + +"Why assess? We cannot do that? The land is yours; it is for you to +say," some in the crowd said. + +"But understand that you are to use the money for the common wants." + +"We cannot do it. The community is one thing, and this is another +thing." + +"You must understand," said the smiling clerk, wishing to explain the +offer, "that the Prince is giving you the land for money which is to +go into the community's treasury." + +"We understand it very well," said a toothless old man without raising +his eyes. "Something like a bank, only we must pay in time. We cannot +do it; it is hard enough as it is. That will ruin us entirely." + +"That is to no purpose. We would rather continue as before," said +several dissatisfied and even rough voices. + +The resistance was particularly hot when Nekhludoff mentioned that he +would draw a contract which he himself and they would have to sign. + +"What is the good of a contract? We will keep on working as we did +before. We don't care for it. We are ignorant people." + +"We cannot consent, because that is an uncustomary thing. Let it be as +it was before. If you would only do away with the seed," several +voices were heard. + +"Doing away with the seed" meant that under the present regime the +sowing-seed was chargeable to the peasants, and they asked that it be +furnished by the master. + +"So you refuse to take the land?" asked Nekhludoff, turning to a +middle-aged, bare-footed peasant in tattered caftan and with a radiant +face who held his cap straight in front of him, like a soldier hearing +"Hats off!" + +"Yes, sir," said this peasant. + +"Then you have enough land?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"No, sir," said the ex-soldier, with artificial cheerfulness, holding +his torn cap before him, as though offering it to anyone deserving to +take it. + +"Think it over at your leisure," said the surprised Nekhludoff, again +repeating his offer. + +"There is nothing to think over; as we said, so it will be," the +toothless, gloomy old man said angrily. + +"I will stay here all day to-morrow. If you alter your decision, let +me know." + +The peasants made no answer. + +On their return to the office the clerk explained to Nekhludoff that +it was not a want of good sense that prevented their acceptance of the +offer; that when gathered in assembly they always acted in that +stubborn manner. + +Nekhludoff then asked him to summon for the following day several of +the most intelligent peasants to whom he would explain his project at +greater length. + +Immediately after the departure of the smiling clerk, Nekhludoff heard +angry women's voices interrupted by the voice of the clerk. He +listened. + +"I have no more strength. You want the cross on my breast," said an +exasperated voice. + +"She only ran in," said another voice. "Give her up, I say. Why do you +torture the beast, and keep the milk from the children?" + +Nekhludoff walked around the house where he saw two disheveled women, +one of whom was evidently pregnant, standing near the staircase. On +the stairs, with his hands in the pockets of his crash overcoat, stood +the clerk. Seeing their master, the women became silent and began to +arrange their 'kerchiefs, which had fallen from their heads, while the +clerk took his hands out of his pockets and began to smile. + +The clerk explained that the peasants purposely permitted their +calves, and even cows, to roam over the master's meadows. That two +cows belonging to these women had been caught on the meadow and driven +into an inclosure. The clerk demanded from the women thirty copecks +per cow, or two days' work. + +"Time and again I told them," said the smiling clerk, looking around +at Nekhludoff, as if calling him to witness, "to look out for cows +when driving them to feed." + +"I just went to see to the child, and they walked away." + +"Don't leave them when you undertake to look after them." + +"And who would feed my child?" + +"If they had only grazed, at least, they would have no pains in their +stomachs. But they only walked in." + +"All the meadows are spoiled," the clerk turned to Nekhludoff. "If +they are not made to pay there will be no hay left." + +"Don't be sinning," cried the pregnant woman. "My cow was never +caught." + +"But now that she was caught, pay for her, or work." + +"Well, then, I will work. But return me the cow; don't torture her," +she cried angrily. "It is bad enough as it is; I get no rest, either +day or night. Mother-in-law is sick; my husband is drunk. +Single-handed I have to do all the work, and I have no strength. May +you choke yourself!" she shouted and began to weep. + +Nekhludoff asked the clerk to release the cows and returned to the +house, wondering why people do not see what is so plain. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +Whether it was because there were fewer peasants present, or because +he was not occupied with himself, but with the matter in hand, +Nekhludoff felt no agitation when the seven peasants chosen from the +villagers responded to the summons. + +He first of all expressed his views on private ownership of land. + +"As I look upon it," he said, "land ought not to be the subject of +purchase and sale, for if land can be sold, then those who have money +will buy it all in and charge the landless what they please for the +use of it. People will then be compelled to pay for the right to stand +on the earth," he added, quoting Spencer's argument. + +"There remains to put on wings and fly," said an old man with smiling +eyes and gray beard. + +"That's so," said a long-nosed peasant in a deep basso. + +"Yes, sir," said the ex-soldier. + +"The old woman took some grass for the cow. They caught her, and to +jail she went," said a good-natured, lame peasant. + +"There is land for five miles around, but the rent is higher than the +land can produce," said the toothless, angry old man. + +"I am of the same opinion as you," said Nekhludoff, "and that is the +reason I want to give you the land." + +"Well, that would be a kind deed," said a broad-shouldered old peasant +with a curly, grayish beard like that of Michael Angelo's Moses, +evidently thinking that Nekhludoff intended to rent out the land. + +"That is why I came here. I do not wish to own the land any longer, +but it is necessary to consider how to dispose of it." + +"You give it to the peasants--that's all," said the toothless, angry +peasant. + +For a moment Nekhludoff was confused, seeing in these words doubt of +the sincerity of his purpose. But he shook it off, and took advantage +of the remark to say what he intended. + +"I would be only too glad to give it," he said, "but to whom and how +shall I give it? Why should I give it to your community rather than to +the Deminsky community?" Deminsky was a neighboring village with very +little land. + +They were all silent. Only the ex-soldier said, "Yes, sir." + +"And now tell me how would you distribute the land?" + +"How? We would give each an equal share," said an oven-builder, +rapidly raising and lowering his eyebrows. + +"How else? Of course divide it equally," said a good-natured, lame +peasant, whose feet, instead of socks, were wound in a white strip of +linen. + +This decision was acquiesced in by all as being satisfactory. + +"But how?" asked Nekhludoff, "are the domestics also to receive equal +shares?" + +"No, sir," said the ex-soldier, assuming a cheerful mood. But the +sober-minded tall peasant disagreed with him. + +"If it is to be divided, everybody is to get an equal share," after +considering awhile, he said in a deep basso. + +"That is impossible," said Nekhludoff, who was already prepared with +his objection. "If everyone was to get an equal share, then those who +do not themselves work would sell their shares to the rich. Thus the +land would again get into the hands of the rich. Again, the people +that worked their own shares would multiply, and the landlords would +again get the landless into their power." + +"Yes, sir," the ex-soldier hastily assented. + +"The selling of land should be prohibited; only those that cultivate +it themselves should be allowed to own it," said the oven-builder, +angrily interrupting the soldier. + +To this Nekhludoff answered that it would be difficult to determine +whether one cultivated the land for himself or for others. + +Then the sober-minded old man suggested that the land should be given +to them as an association, and that only those that took part in +cultivating it should get their share. + +Nekhludoff was ready with arguments against this communistic scheme, +and he retorted that in such case it would be necessary that all +should have plows, that each should have the same number of horses, +and that none should lag behind, or that everything should belong to +society, for which the consent of every one was necessary. + +"Our people will never agree," said the angry old man. + +"There will be incessant fighting among them," said the white-bearded +peasant with the shining eyes. "The women will scratch each other's +eyes out." + +"The next important question is," said Nekhludoff, "how to divide the +land according to quality. You cannot give black soil to some and clay +and sand to others." + +"Let each have a part of both," said the oven-builder. + +To this Nekhludoff answered that it was not a question of dividing the +land in one community, but of the division of land generally among all +the communities. If the land is to be given gratis to the peasants, +then why should some get good land, and others poor land? There would +be a rush for the good land. + +"Yes, sir," said the ex-soldier. + +The others were silent. + +"You see, it is not as simple as it appears at first sight," said +Nekhludoff. "We are not the only ones, there are other people thinking +of the same thing. And now, there is an American, named George, who +devised the following scheme, and I agree with him." + +"What is that to you? You are the master; you distribute the land, +and there is an end to it," said the angry peasant. + +This interruption somewhat confused Nekhludoff, but he was glad to see +that others were also dissatisfied with this interruption. + +"Hold on, Uncle Semen; let him finish," said the old man in an +impressive basso. + +This encouraged Nekhludoff, and he proceeded to explain the single-tax +theory of Henry George. + +"The land belongs to no one--it belongs to the Creator." + +"That's so!" + +"Yes, sir." + +"The land belongs to all in common. Every one has an equal right to +it. But there is good land, and there is poor land. And the question +is, how to divide the land equally. The answer to this is, that those +who own the better land should pay to those who own the poorer the +value of the better land. But as it is difficult to determine how much +anyone should pay, and to whom, and as society needs money for common +utilities, let every land owner pay to society the full value of his +land--less, if it is poorer; more, if it is better. And those who do +not wish to own land will have their taxes paid by the land owners." + +"That's correct," said the oven-builder. "Let the owner of the better +land pay more." + +"What a head that Jhorga had on him!" said the portly old peasant with +the curls. + +"If only the payments were reasonable," said the tall peasant, +evidently understanding what it was leading to. + +"The payments should be such that it would be neither too cheap nor +too dear. If too dear, it would be unprofitable; if too cheap, people +would begin to deal in land. This is the arrangement I would like you +to make." + +Voices of approval showed that the peasants understood him perfectly. + +"What a head!" repeated the broad-shouldered peasant with the curls, +meaning "Jhorga." + +"And what if I should choose to take land?" said the clerk, smiling. + +"If there is an unoccupied section, take and cultivate it," said +Nekhludoff. + +"What do you want land for? You are not hungering without land," said +the old man with the smiling eyes. + +Here the conference ended. + +Nekhludoff repeated his offer, telling the peasants to consult the +wish of the community, before giving their answer. + +The peasants said that they would do so, took leave of Nekhludoff and +departed in a state of excitement. For a long time their loud voices +were heard, and finally died away about midnight. + + * * * * * + +The peasants did not work the following day, but discussed their +master's proposition. The community was divided into two factions. One +declared the proposition profitable and safe; the other saw in the +proposition a plot which it feared the more because it could not +understand it. On the third day, however, the proposition was +accepted, the fears of the peasants having been allayed by an old +woman who explained the master's action by the suggestion that he +began to think of saving his soul. This explanation was confirmed by +the large amount of money Nekhludoff had distributed while he remained +in Panov. These money gifts were called forth by the fact that here, +for the first time, he learned to what poverty the peasants had been +reduced and though he knew that it was unwise, he could not help +distributing such money as he had, which was considerable. + +As soon as it became known that the master was distributing money, +large crowds of people from the entire surrounding country came to him +asking to be helped. He had no means of determining the respective +needs of the individuals, and yet he could not help giving these +evidently poor people money. Again, to distribute money +indiscriminately was absurd. His only way out of the difficulty was to +depart, which he hastened to do. + +On the third day of his visit to Panov, Nekhludoff, while looking over +the things in the house, in one of the drawers of his aunt's +chiffonnier, found a picture representing a group of Sophia Ivanovna, +Catherine Ivanovna, himself, as student, and Katiousha--neat, fresh, +beautiful and full of life. Of all the things in the house Nekhludoff +removed this picture and the letters. The rest he sold to the miller +for a tenth part of its value. + +Recalling now the feeling of pity over the loss of his property which +he had experienced in Kusminskoie, Nekhludoff wondered how he could +have done so. Now he experienced the gladness of release and the +feeling of novelty akin to that experienced by an explorer who +discovers new lands. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +It was evening when Nekhludoff arrived in the city, and as he drove +through the gas-lit streets to his house, it looked to him like a new +city. The odor of camphor still hung in the air through all the rooms, +and Agrippina, Petrovna and Kornei seemed tired out and dissatisfied, +and even quarreled about the packing of the things, the use of which +seemed to consist chiefly in being hung out, dried and packed away +again. His room was not occupied, but was not arranged for his coming, +and the trunks blocked all the passages, so that his coming interfered +with those affairs which, by some strange inertia, were taking place +in this house. This evident foolishness, to which he had once been a +party, seemed so unpleasant to Nekhludoff, after the impressions he +had gained of the want in the villages, that he decided to move to a +hotel the very next day, leaving the packing to Agrippina until the +arrival of his sister. + +He left the house in the morning, hired two modest and not over-clean +furnished rooms near the prison, and went to his lawyer. + +After the storms and rains came those cold, piercing winds that +usually occur in the fall. Protected only by a light overcoat, +Nekhludoff was chilled to the bone. He walked quickly in order to warm +himself. + +The village scenes came to his mind--the women, children and old men, +whose poverty and exhaustion he had noticed as if for the first time, +especially that oldish child which twisted its little calfless +legs--and he involuntarily compared them with the city folks. Passing +by the butcher, fish and clothing shops, he was struck, as if it was +the first time he looked upon them--by the physical evidences of the +well-being of such a large number of clean, well-fed shopkeepers which +was not to be seen anywhere in the villages. Equally well fed were the +drivers in quilted coats and buttons on their backs, porters, servant +girls, etc. In all these people he now involuntarily saw those same +village folks whom privation had driven to the city. Some of them were +able to take advantage of the conditions in the city and became happy +proprietors themselves; others were reduced to even greater straits +and became even more wretched. Such wretchedness Nekhludoff saw in a +number of shoemakers that he saw working near the window of a +basement; in the lean, pale, disheveled washerwomen ironing with bare +hands before open windows from which soap-laden steam poured out; in +two painters, aproned and bare-footed, who were covered with paint +from temple to heel. In their sunburnt, sinewy, weak hands, bared +above the elbows, they carried a bucket of paint and incessantly +cursed each other. Their faces were wearied and angry. The same +expression of weariness and anger he saw in the dusty faces of the +truck drivers; on the swollen and tattered men, women and children who +stood begging on the street corners. Similar faces were seen in the +windows of the tea-houses which Nekhludoff passed. Around the dirty +tables, loaded with bottles and tea services, perspiring men with red, +stupefied faces sat shouting and singing, and white-aproned servants +flitted to and fro. + +"Why have they all gathered here?" thought Nekhludoff, involuntarily +inhaling, together with the dust, the odor of rancid oil spread by the +fresh paint. + +On one of the streets he suddenly heard his name called above the +rattling of the trucks. It was Shenbok, with curled and stiffened +mustache and radiant face. Nekhludoff had lost sight of him long ago, +but heard that on leaving his regiment and joining the cavalry, +notwithstanding his debts he managed to hold his own in rich society. + +"I am glad I met you. There is not a soul in the city. How old you +have grown, my boy! I only recognized you by your walk. Well, shall +we have dinner together? Where can we get a good meal here?" + +"I hardly think I will have the time," answered Nekhludoff, who wished +to get rid of his friend without offending him. "What brings you +here?" he asked. + +"Business, my boy. Guardianship affairs. I am a guardian, you know. I +have charge of Samanoff's business--the rich Samanoff, you know. He is +a spendthrift, and there are fifty-four thousand acres of land!" he +said with particular pride, as if he had himself made all these acres. +"The affairs were fearfully neglected. The land was rented to the +peasants, who did not pay anything and were eighty thousand rubles in +arrears. In one year I changed everything, and realized seventy per +cent. more for the estate. Eh?" he asked, with pride. + +Nekhludoff recalled a rumor that for the very reason that Shenbok +squandered his own wealth and was inextricably in debt, he was +appointed guardian over a rich old spendthrift, and was now evidently +obtaining an income from the guardianship. + +Nekhludoff refused to take dinner with Shenbok, or accompany him to +the horse races, to which the latter invited him, and after an +exchange of commonplaces the two parted. + +"Is it possible that I was like him?" thought Nekhludoff. "Not +exactly, but I sought to be like him, and thought that I would thus +pass my life." + + * * * * * + +The lawyer received him immediately on his arrival, although it was +not his turn. The lawyer expressed himself strongly on the detention +of the Menshovs, declaring that there was not a particle of evidence +against them on record. + +"If the case is tried here, and not in the district, I will stake +anything on their discharge. And the petition in behalf of Theodosia +Brinkova is ready. You had better take it with you to St. Petersburg +and present it there. Otherwise there will begin an inquiry which will +have no end. Try to reach some people who have influence with the +commission on petitions. Well, that's all, isn't it?" + +"No. Here they write me----" + +"You seem to be the funnel into which all the prison complaints are +poured. I fear you will not hold them all." + +"But this case is simply shocking," said Nekhludoff, and related the +substance of it. + +"What is it that surprises you?" + +"Everything. I can understand the orderly who acted under orders, but +the assistant prosecutor who drew the indictment is an educated man----" + +"That is the mistake. We are used to think that the prosecuting +officers--the court officers generally--are a kind of new, liberal +men. And so they were at one time, but not now. The only thing that +concerns these officers is to draw their salaries on the 20th of every +month. Their principles begin and end with their desire to get more. +They will arrest, try and convict anybody----. I am always telling these +court officers that I never look upon them without gratitude," +continued the lawyer, "because it is due to their kindness that I, you +and all of us are not in jail. To deprive any one of us of all civil +rights and send him to Siberia is the easiest thing imaginable." + +"But if everything depends on the pleasure of the prosecutor, who can +enforce the law or not, then what is the use of the courts?" + +The lawyer laughed merrily. + +"That is the question you are raising. Well, my dear sir, that is +philosophy. However, we can discuss that. Come to my house next +Saturday. You will find there scholars, litterateurs, artists. We will +have a talk on social questions," said the lawyer, pronouncing the +words "social questions" with ironical pathos. "Are you acquainted +with my wife? Call on Saturday." + +"I will try," answered Nekhludoff, feeling that he was saying an +untruth; that if there was anything he would try hard to do it was not +to be present at the lawyer's amid the scholars, litterateurs and +artists. + +The laughter with which the lawyer met Nekhludoff's remark concerning +the uselessness of courts if the prosecutors can do what they please, +and the intonation with which he pronounced the words "philosophy" and +"social questions," showed how utterly unlike himself were the lawyer +and the people of his circle, both in character and in views of life. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +It was late and the distance to the prison was long, so Nekhludoff +hired a trap. On one of the streets the driver, who was a middle-aged +man with an intelligent and good-natured face, turned to Nekhludoff +and pointed to an immense building going up. + +"What a huge building there is going up!" he said with pride, as if he +had a part in the building of it. + +It was really a huge structure, built in a complex, unusual style. A +scaffolding of heavy pine logs surrounded the structure, which was +fenced in by deal boards. It was as busy a scene as an ant hill. + +Nekhludoff wondered that these people, while their wives were killing +themselves with work at home, and their children starving, should +think it necessary to build that foolish and unnecessary house for +some foolish and unnecessary man. + +"Yes, a foolish building," he spoke his thought aloud. + +"How foolish?" retorted the offended driver. "Thanks to them, the +people get work. It is not foolish." + +"But the work is unnecessary." + +"It must be necessary if they are building it," said the driver. "It +gives the people food." + +Nekhludoff became silent, the more so because it was too noisy to be +heard. When they had reached the macadamized road near the prison the +driver again turned to Nekhludoff. + +"And what a lot of people are coming to the city--awful," he said, +turning around on the box and pointing to a party of laborers with +saws, axes, coats and sacks thrown over their shoulders, and coming +from the opposite direction. + +"More than in former years?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"No comparison. The masters are kicking them about like shavings. The +market places are glutted with them." + +"What is the reason?" + +"They have multiplied. They have no homes." + +"And what if they have multiplied! Why do they not remain in the +villages?" + +"There is nothing to do there. There is no land." + +Nekhludoff experienced that which happens with a sore place--it is +struck oftener than any other part of the body. But it only seems so +because it is more noticeable. + +"Can it be possible that it is everywhere the same?" he thought, and +asked the driver how much land there was in his village; how much he +himself owned, and why he lived in the city. + +"There is but an acre to every person. We are renting three acres. +There is my father and brother. Another brother is in the army. They +are managing it. But there is really nothing to manage, and my brother +intended to go to Moskow." + +"Is there no land for rent?" + +"Where could one get land nowadays? The masters' children have +squandered theirs. The merchants have it all in their hands. One +cannot rent it from them; they cultivate it themselves. Our lands are +held by a Frenchman who bought them of the former landlord. He won't +rent any of it, and that is all." + +"What Frenchman?" + +"Dufar, the Frenchman--you may have heard. He is making wigs for the +actors. He is now our master, and does what he pleases with us. He is +a good man himself, but his wife is Russian--and what a cur! She is +robbing the people--simply awful! But here is the prison. Shall I +drive up to the front? I think they don't admit through the front." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +With a faint heart and with horror at the thought that he might find +Maslova in an inebriate condition and persistently antagonistic, and +at the mystery which she was to him, Nekhludoff rang the bell and +inquired of the inspector about Maslova. She was in the hospital. + +A young physician, impregnated with carbolic acid, came out into the +corridor and sternly asked Nekhludoff what he wanted. The physician +indulged the prisoners' shortcomings and often relaxed the rules in +their favor, for which he often ran afoul of the prison officials and +even the head physician. Fearing that Nekhludoff might ask something +not permitted by the rules, and, moreover, desiring to show that he +made no exceptions in favor of anybody, he feigned anger. + +"There are no women here; this is the children's ward," he said. + +"I know it, but there is a nurse here who had been transferred from +the prison." + +"Yes, there are two. What do you wish, then?" + +"I am closely related to one of them, Maslova," said Nekhludoff, "and +would like to see her. I am going to St. Petersburg to enter an appeal +in her case. I would like to hand her this; it is only a photograph," +and he produced an envelope from his pocket. + +"Yes, you may do that," said the softened physician, and turning to an +old nurse in a white apron, told her to call Maslova. "Won't you take +a seat, or come into the reception-room?" + +"Thank you," said Nekhludoff, and taking advantage of the favorable +change in the physician's demeanor, asked him what they thought of +Maslova in the hospital. + +"Her work is fair, considering the conditions amid which she had +lived," answered the physician. "But there she comes." + +The old nurse appeared at one of the doors, and behind her came +Maslova. She wore a white apron over a striped skirt; a white cap on +her head hid her hair. Seeing Nekhludoff she flushed, stopped +waveringly, then frowned, and with downcast eyes approached him with +quick step. Coming near him she stood for a moment without offering +her hand, then she did offer her hand and became even more flushed. +Nekhludoff had not seen her since the conversation in which she +excused herself for her impetuosity, and he expected to find her in a +similar mood. But she was entirely different to-day; there was +something new in the expression of her face; something timid and +reserved, and, as it seemed to him, malevolent toward him. He repeated +the words he had said to the physician and handed her the envelope +with the photograph which he had brought from Panov. + +"It is an old picture which I came across in Panov. It may please you +to have it. Take it." + +Raising her black eyebrows she looked at him with her squinting eyes, +as though asking, "What is that for?" Then she silently took the +envelope and tucked it under her apron. + +"I saw your aunt there," said Nekhludoff. + +"Did you?" she said, with indifference. + +"How do you fare here?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"Fairly well," she said. + +"It is not very hard?" + +"Not very. I am not used to it yet." + +"I am very glad. At any rate, it is better than there." + +"Than where?" she said, and her face became purple. + +"There, in the prison," Nekhludoff hastened to say. + +"Why better?" she asked. + +"I think the people here are better. There are no such people here as +there." + +"There are many good people there." + +"I did what I could for the Menshovs and hope they will be freed," +said Nekhludoff. + +"May God grant it. Such a wonderful little woman," she said, repeating +her description of the old woman, and slightly smiled. + +"I am going to-day to St. Petersburg. Your case will be heard soon, +and, I hope, will be reversed." + +"It is all the same now, whether they reverse it or not," she said. + +"Why now?" + +"So," she answered, and stealthily glanced at him inquiringly. + +Nekhludoff understood this answer and this glance as a desire on her +part to know if he were still holding to his decision, or had changed +it since her refusal. + +"I don't know why it is all the same to you," he said, "but to me it +really is all the same whether you are acquitted or not. In either +case, I am ready to do what I said," he said, with determination. + +She raised her head, and her black, squinting eyes fixed themselves on +his face and past it, and her whole face became radiant with joy. But +her words were in an entirely different strain. + +"Oh, you needn't talk that way," she said. + +"I say it that you may know." + +"Everything has been already said, and there is no use talking any +more," she said, with difficulty repressing a smile. + +There was some noise in the ward. A child was heard crying. + +"I think I am called," she said, looking around with anxiety. + +"Well, then, good-by," he said. + +She pretended not to see his extended hand, turned round, and +endeavoring to hide her elation, she walked away with quick step. + +"What is taking place in her? What is she thinking? What are her +feelings? Is she putting me to a test, or is she really unable to +forgive me? Can she not say what she thinks and feels, or simply will +not? Is she pacified or angered?" Nekhludoff asked himself, but could +give no answer. One thing he knew, however, and that was that she had +changed; that a spiritual transformation was taking place in her, and +this transformation united him not only to her, but to Him in whose +name it was taking place. And this union caused him joyful agitation. + +Returning to the ward where eight children lay in their beds, Maslova +began to remake one of the beds, by order of the Sister, and, leaning +over too far with the sheet, slipped and nearly fell. The convalescing +boy, wound in bandages to his neck, began to laugh. Maslova could +restrain herself no longer, and seating herself on the bedstead she +burst into loud laughter, infecting several children, who also began +to laugh. The Sister angrily shouted: + +"What are you roaring about? Think you this is like the place you came +from? Go fetch the rations." + +Maslova stopped laughing, and taking a dish went on her errand, but +exchanging looks with the bandaged boy, who giggled again. + +Several times during the day, when Maslova remained alone, she drew +out a corner of the picture and looked at it with admiration, but in +the evening, when she and another nurse retired for the night, she +removed the picture from the envelope and immovably looked with +admiration at the faces; her own, his and the aunt's, their dresses, +the stairs of the balcony, the bushes in the background, her eyes +feasting especially on herself, her young, beautiful face with the +hair hanging over her forehead. She was so absorbed that she failed to +notice that the other nurse had entered. + +"What is that? Did he give it you?" asked the stout, good-natured +nurse, leaning over the photograph. + +"Is it possible that that is you?" + +"Who else?" Maslova said, smiling and looking into her companion's +face. + +"And who is that? He himself? And that is his mother?" + +"His aunt. Couldn't you recognize me?" asked Maslova. + +"Why, no. I could never recognize you. The face is entirely different. +That must have been taken about ten years ago." + +"Not years, but a lifetime," said Maslova, and suddenly her face +became sullen and a wrinkle formed between her eyebrows. + +"Yours was an easy life, wasn't it?" + +"Yes, easy," Maslova repeated, closing her eyes and shaking her head. +"Worse than penal servitude." + +"Why so?" + +"Because. From eight in the evening to four in the morning--every day +the same." + +"Then why don't they get out?" + +"They like to, but cannot. But what is the use of talking!" cried +Maslova, and she sprang to her feet, threw the photograph into the +drawer of the table, and suppressing her angry tears, ran into the +corridor, slamming the door. Looking on the photograph she imagined +herself as she had been at the time the photograph was made, and +dreamed how happy she had been and might still be with him. The words +of her companion reminded her what she was now--reminded her of all +the horror of that life which she then felt but confusedly, and would +not allow herself to admit. Only now she vividly recalled all those +terrible nights, particularly one Shrovetide night. She recalled how +she, in a low-cut, wine-bespattered, red silk dress, with a red bow in +her dishevelled hair, weak, jaded and tipsy, after dancing attendance +upon the guest, had seated herself, at two in the morning, near the +thin, bony, pimpled girl-pianist and complained of her hard life. The +girl said that her life was also disagreeable to her, and that she +wished to change her occupation. Afterward their friend Clara joined +them, and all three suddenly decided to change their life. They were +about to leave the place when the drunken guests became noisy, the +fiddler struck up a lively song of the first figure of a Russian +quadrille, the pianist began to thump in unison, a little drunken man +in a white necktie and dress coat caught her up. Another man, stout +and bearded, and also in a dress coat, seized Clara, and for a long +time they whirled, danced, shouted and drank. Thus a year passed, a +second and a third. How could she help changing! And the cause of it +all was he. And suddenly her former wrath against him rose in her; and +she felt like chiding and reproving him. She was sorry that she had +missed the opportunity of telling him again that she knew him, and +would not yield to him; that she would not allow him to take advantage +of her spiritually as he had done corporeally; that she would not +allow him to make her the subject of his magnanimity. And in order to +deaden the painful feeling of pity for herself and the useless +reprobation of him, she yearned for wine. And she would have broken +her word and drunk some wine had she been in the prison. But here wine +could only be obtained from the assistant surgeon, and she was afraid +of him, because he pursued her with his attentions, and all relations +with men were disgusting to her. For some time she sat on a bench in +the corridor, and returning to her closet, without heeding her +companion's questions, she wept for a long time over her ruined life. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +Nekhludoff had four cases in hand: Maslova's appeal, the petition of +Theodosia Birukova, the case of Shustova's release, by request of Vera +Bogodukhovskaia, and the obtaining of permission for a mother to visit +her son kept in a fortress, also by Bogodukhovskaia's request. + +Since his visit to Maslenikoff, especially since his trip to the +country, Nekhludoff felt an aversion for that sphere in which he had +been living heretofore, and in which the sufferings borne by millions +of people in order to secure the comforts and pleasures of a few, were +so carefully concealed that the people of that sphere did not and +could not see these sufferings, and consequently the cruelty and +criminality of their own lives. + +Nekhludoff could no longer keep up relations with these people without +reproving himself. And yet the habits of his past life, the ties of +friendship and kinship, and especially his one great aim of helping +Maslova and the other unfortunates, drew him into that sphere against +his will; and he was compelled to ask the aid and services of people +whom he had not only ceased to respect but who called forth his +indignation and contempt. + +Arriving at St. Petersburg, and stopping at his aunt's, the wife of an +ex-Minister of State, he found himself in the very heart of the +aristocratic circle. It was unpleasant to him, but he could do no +different. Not to stop at his aunt's was to offend her. Besides, +through her connections she could be of great service to him in those +affairs for the sake of which he came to St. Petersburg. + +"What wonders I hear about you!" said Countess Catherine Ivanovna +Charskaia, while Nekhludoff was drinking the coffee brought him +immediately after his arrival. "Vous posez pour un Howard. You are +helping the convicts; making the rounds of the prisons; reforming +them." + +"You are mistaken; I never had such intentions." + +"Why, that is not bad. Only, I understand, there is some love +affair--come, tell me." + +Nekhludoff related the story of Maslova, exactly as it happened. + +"Yes, yes, I remember. Poor Hellen told me at the time you lived at +the old maids' house that, I believe, they wished you to marry their +ward." Countess Catherine Ivanovna always hated Nekhludoff's aunts on +his father's side. "So, that is she? Elle est encore jolie?" + +Aunt Catherine Ivanovna was a sixty-year-old, healthy, jolly, +energetic, talkative woman. She was tall, very stout, with a black, +downy mustache on her upper lip. Nekhludoff loved her, and since +childhood had been accustomed to get infected with her energy and +cheerfulness. + +"No, ma tante, all that belongs to the past. I only wish to help her, +because she is innocent, and it is my fault that she was condemned, +her whole wrecked life is upon my conscience. I feel it to be my duty +to do for her what I can." + +"But how is it? I was told that you wish to marry her." + +"I do wish it, it is true; but she doesn't." + +Catherine Ivanovna raised her eyebrows and silently looked at +Nekhludoff in surprise. Suddenly her face changed and assumed a +pleased expression. + +"Well, she is wiser than you are. Ah! what a fool you are! And you +would marry her?" + +"Certainly." + +"After what she has been?" + +"The more so--is it not all my fault?" + +"Well, you are simply a crank," said the aunt, suppressing a smile. +"You are an awful crank, but I love you for the very reason that you +are such an awful crank," she repeated, the word evidently well +describing, according to her view, the mental and moral condition of +her nephew. "And how opportune. You know, Aline has organized a +wonderful asylum for Magdalens. I visited it once. How disgusting they +are! I afterward washed myself from head to foot. But Aline is corps +et ame in this affair. So we will send her, your Magdalen, to her. If +any one will reform her, it is Aline." + +"But she was sentenced to penal servitude. I came here for the +express purpose of obtaining a reversal of her sentence. That is my +first business to you." + +"Is that so? Where is the case now?" + +"In the Senate." + +"In the Senate? Why, my dear cousin Levoushka is in the Senate. +However, he is in the Heraldry Department. Let me see. No, of the real +ones I do not know any. Heaven knows what a mixture they are: either +Germans, such as Ge, Fe, De--tout l'alphabet--or all sorts of Ivanvas, +Semenovs, Nikitins, or Ivaneukos, Semeneukos, Nikitenkas pour varier. +Des gens de l'autre monde. However, I will tell my husband. He knows +all sorts of people. I will tell him. You explain it to him, for he +never understands me. No matter what I may say, he always says that he +cannot understand me. C'est un parti pris. Everybody understands, only +he does not understand." + +At that moment a servant in knee-breeches entered with a letter on a +silver tray. + +"Ah, that is from Aline. Now you will have an opportunity to hear +Kisiweather." + +"Who is that Kisiweather?" + +"Kisiweather? Come around to-day and you will find out who he is. He +speaks so that the most hardened criminals fall on their knees and +weep, and repent." + +Countess Catherine Ivanovna, however strange it might be, and how so +little it agreed with her character, was a follower of that teaching +which held that essence of Christianity consisted in a belief in +redemption. She visited the meetings where sermons were delivered on +this teaching then in vogue, and invited the adherents to her own +house. Although this teaching rejected all rites, images and even the +sacraments, the Princess had images hanging in all her rooms, even +over her bedstead, and she complied with all the ritual requirements +of the church, seeing nothing contradictory in that. + +"Your Magdalen ought to hear him; she would become converted," said +the Countess. "Don't fail to come to-night. You will hear him then. He +is a remarkable man." + +"It is not interesting to me, ma tante." + +"I tell you it is interesting. You must come to-night. Now, what else +do you want me to do? Videz votre sac." + +"There is the man in the fortress." + +"In the fortress? Well, I can give you a note to Baron Kriegmuth. +C'est un tres-brave homme. But you know him yourself. He was your +father's comrade. Il donne dans le spiritisme. But that is nothing. He +is a kind man. What do you want there?" + +"It is necessary to obtain permission for a mother to visit her son +who is incarcerated there. But I was told that Cherviansky and not +Kriegmuth is the person to be applied to." + +"I do not like Cherviansky, but he is Mariette's husband. I will ask +her; she will do it for me. Elle est tres gentille." + +"There is another woman I wish you would speak to her about. She has +been in prison for several months, and no one knows for what." + +"Oh, no; she herself surely knows for what. They know very well. And +it serves them right, those short-haired ones." + +"I do not know whether it serves them right or not. But they are +suffering. You are a Christian, and believe in the Gospel, and yet are +so pitiless." + +"That has nothing to do with it. The Gospel is one thing; what I +dislike is another thing. It would be worse if I pretended to like the +Nihilists, especially the female Nihilists, when as a matter of fact I +hate them." + +"Why do you hate them?" + +"Why do they meddle in other people's affairs? It is not a woman's +business." + +"But you have nothing against Mariette occupying herself with +business," said Nekhludoff. + +"Mariette? Mariette is Mariette, but who is she? A conceited ignoramus +who wants to teach everybody." + +"They do not wish to teach; they only wish to help the people." + +"We know without them who should and who should not be helped." + +"But the people are impoverished. I have just been in the country. Is +it proper that peasants should overwork themselves without getting +enough to eat, while we are living in such wasteful luxury?" + +"What do you wish me to do? You would like to see me work and not eat +anything?" + +"No, I do not wish you not to eat," smiling involuntarily, answered +Nekhludoff. "I only wish that we should all work, and all have enough +to eat." + +The aunt again raised her eyebrows and gazed at him with curiosity. + +"Mon cher, vous finirez mal," she said. + +At that moment a tall, broad-shouldered general entered the room. It +was Countess Charskaia's husband, a retired Minister of State. + +"Ah, Dmitri, how do you do?" he said, putting out his clean-shaven +cheek. "When did you get here?" + +He silently kissed his wife on the forehead. + +"Non, il est impayable." Countess Catherine Ivanovna turned to her +husband. "He wants me to do washing on the river and feast on +potatoes. He is an awful fool, but, nevertheless, do for him what he +asks. An awful crank," she corrected herself. "By the way, they say +that Kamenskaia is in a desperate condition; her life is despaired +of," she turned to her husband. "You ought to visit her." + +"Yes, it is awful," said the husband. + +"Go, now, and have a talk together; I must write some letters." + +Nekhludoff had just reached the room next to the reception-room when +she shouted after him: + +"Shall I write then to Mariette?" + +"If you please, ma tante." + +"I will learn that which you want to say about the short-haired en +blanc, and she will have her husband attend to it. Don't think that I +am angry. They are hateful, your protegees, but--je ne leur veux pas +de mal. But God forgive them. Now, go, and don't forget to come in the +evening; you will hear Kisiweather. We will also pray. And if you do +not resist, ca vous fera beaucoup de bien. I know that Hellen and all +of you are very backward in that respect. Now, au revoir." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +The man in whose power it was to lighten the condition of the +prisoners in St. Petersburg had earned a great number of medals, +which, except for a white cross in his button-hole, he did not wear, +however. The old general was of the German barons, and, as it was said +of him, had become childish. He had served in the Caucasus, where he +had received this cross; then in Poland and in some other place, and +now he held the office which gave him good quarters, maintenance and +honor. He always strictly carried out the orders of his superiors, and +considered their execution of great importance and significance, so +much so that while everything in the world could be changed, these +orders, according to him, were above the possibility of any +alteration. + +As Nekhludoff was approaching the old general's house the tower clock +struck two. The general was at the time sitting with a young artist in +the darkened reception-room, at a table, the top of which was of +inlaid work, both of them turning a saucer on a sheet of paper. +Holding each others fingers over the saucer, placed face downward, +they pulled in different directions over the paper on which were +printed all the letters of the alphabet. The saucer was answering the +general's question. How would souls recognize each other after death? + +At the moment one of the servants entered with Nekhludoff's card, the +soul of Jeanne D'Arc was speaking through the saucer. The soul had +already said, "They will recognize each other," which was duly entered +on a sheet of paper. When the servant entered, the saucer, stopping +first on the letter p, then on the letter o, reached the letter s and +began to jerk one way and another. That was because, as the general +thought, the next letter was to be l, that is to say, Jeanne D'Arc, +according to his idea, intended to say that souls would recognize each +other only after they had been purged of everything mundane, or +something to that effect, and that therefore the next letter ought to +be l (_posl, i. e._, after); the artist, on the other hand, thought +that the next letter would be v; that the soul intended to say that +souls would recognize each other by the light--_posv_ (_ietu_) that +would issue from the ethereal body of the souls. The general, gloomily +knitting his brow, gazed fixedly on the hands, and imagining that the +saucer moved itself, pulled it toward the letter l. The young, anaemic +artist, with his oily hair brushed behind his ears, looked into the +dark corner of the room, with his blue, dull eyes, and nervously +twitching his lips, pulled toward the letter v. The general frowned at +the interruption, and, after a moment's silence, took the card, put on +his pince-nez and, groaning from pain in his loins, rose to his full +height, rubbing his benumbed fingers. + +"Show him into the cabinet." + +"Permit me, Your Excellency, to finish it myself," said the artist, +rising. "I feel a presence." + +"Very well; finish it," said the general with austerity, and went, +with firm, long strides, into the cabinet. + +"Glad to see you," said the general in a rough voice to Nekhludoff, +pointing to an arm-chair near the desk. "How long have you been in St. +Petersburg?" + +Nekhludoff said that he had but lately arrived. + +"Is your mother, the Princess, well?" + +"My mother is dead." + +"Beg pardon; I was very sorry. My son told me that he had met you." + +The general's son was making the same career as his father, and was +very proud of the business with which he was entrusted. + +"Why, I served with your father. We were friends, comrades. Are you in +service?" + +"No, I am not." + +The general disapprovingly shook his head. + +"I have a request to make of you, general," said Nekhludoff. + +"Very glad. What can I do for you?" + +"If my request be out of season, please forgive me. But I must state +it." + +"What is it?" + +"There is a man, Gurkevitch, kept in prison under your jurisdiction. +His mother asks to be permitted to visit him, or, at least to send him +books." + +The general expressed neither satisfaction nor dissatisfaction at +Nekhludoff's request, but, inclining his head to one side, seemed to +reflect. As a matter of fact he was not reflecting; Nekhludoff's +question did not even interest him, knowing very well that his answer +would be as the law requires. He was simply resting mentally without +thinking of anything. + +"That is not in my discretion, you know," he said, having rested +awhile. "There is a law relating to visits, and whatever that law +permits, that is permitted. And as to books, there is a library, and +they are given such books as are allowed." + +"Yes, but he wants scientific books; he wishes to study." + +"Don't believe that." The general paused. "It is not for study that +they want them, but so, it is simply unrest." + +"But their time must be occupied somehow?" + +"They are always complaining," retorted the general. "We know them." + +He spoke of them in general as of some peculiar race of people. + +"They have such conveniences here as is seldom seen in a prison," he +continued. + +And as though justifying himself, he began to recount all the +conveniences enjoyed by the prisoners in a manner to make one believe +that the chief aim of the institution consisted in making it a +pleasant place of abode. + +"Formerly, it is true, the regulations were very harsh, but now their +condition is excellent. They get three dishes, one of which is always +of meat--chopped meat or cutlet. Sundays they get a fourth +dish--dessert. May God grant that every Russian could feed so well." + +The general, like all old men, evidently having committed to memory +the oft-repeated words, proceeded to prove how exacting and ungrateful +the prisoners were by repeating what he had told many times before. + +"They are furnished books on spiritual topics, also old journals. We +have a library of suitable books, but they seldom read them. At first +they appear to be interested, and then it is found that the pages of +all the new books are barely half cut, and of the old ones there is no +evidence of any thumb-marks at all. We even tried," with a remote +semblance of a smile the general continued, "to put a piece of paper +between the pages, and it remained untouched. Writing, too, is +allowed. A slate is given them, also a slate-pencil, so that they may +write for diversion. They can wipe it out and write again. And yet +they don't write. No, they become quiet very soon. At first they are +uneasy, but afterward they even grow stout and become very quiet." + +Nekhludoff listened to the hoarse, feeble voice; looked on that +fleshless body, those faded eyes under the gray eyebrows, those +sunken, shaved cheeks, supported by a military collar, that white +cross, and understood that to argue and explain to him the meaning of +those words were futile. But, making another effort, he asked him +about the prisoner, Shustova, whose release, he had received +information, had been ordered, through the efforts of Mariette. + +"Shustova? Shustova--I don't remember them all by name. There are so +many of them," he said, evidently reproving them for being so +numerous. He rang the bell and called for the secretary. + +While a servant was going after the secretary he admonished Nekhludoff +to go into service, saying that the country was in need of honest, +noble men. + +"I am old, and yet I am serving to the extent of my ability." + +The secretary came and reported that there were no papers received +relating to Shustova, who was still in prison. + +"As soon as we receive an order we release them the very same day. We +do not keep them; we do not particularly value their presence," said +the general, again with a waggish smile, which had the effect only of +making his face wry. + +"Good-by, my dear," he continued. "Don't be offended for advising you, +for I do so only because I love you. Have nothing to do with the +prisoners. You will never find innocent people among them. They are +the most immoral set. We know them," he said, in a tone of voice which +did not permit the possibility of doubt. "You had better take an +office. The Emperor and the country need honest people. What if I and +such as you refused to serve? Who would be left? We are complaining +of conditions, but refuse to aid the government." + +Nekhludoff sighed deeply, made a low bow, pressed the bony hand +condescendingly extended, and departed. + +The general disapprovingly shook his head, and, rubbing his loins, +went to the reception-room, where the artist awaited him with the +answer of Jeanne D'Arc. The general put on his pince-nez and read: +"They will recognize each other by the light issuing from the ethereal +bodies." + +"Ah!" said the general, approvingly, closing his eyes. "But how will +one recognize another when all have the same light?" he asked, and +again crossing his fingers with those of the artist, seated himself at +the table. + + * * * * * + +Nekhludoff's driver drove up to the gate. + +"It is very dull here, sir," he said, turning to Nekhludoff. "It was +very tiresome, and I was about to drive away." + +"Yes, tiresome," assented Nekhludoff with a deep sigh, resting his +eyes on the clouds and the Neva, dotted with variegated boats and +steamers. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +With a note from Prince Ivan Michaelovitch, Nekhludoff went to Senator +Wolf--un homme tres comme il faut, as the Prince had described him. + +Wolf had just breakfasted and, as usual, was smoking a cigar, to aid +his digestion, when Nekhludoff arrived. Vladimir Vasilievitch Wolf was +really un homme tres comme il faut, and this quality he placed above +all else; from the height of it he looked upon all other people, and +could not help valuing this quality, because, thanks to it, he had +gained a brilliant career--the same career he strove for; that is to +say, through marriage he obtained a fortune, which brought him a +yearly income of eighteen thousand rubles, and by his own efforts he +obtained a senatorship. He considered himself not only un homme tres +comme il faut, but a man of chivalric honesty. By honesty he +understood the refusal to take bribes from private people. But to do +everything in his power to obtain all sorts of traveling expenses, +rents and disbursements he did not consider dishonest. Nor did he +consider it dishonest to rob his wife and sister-in-law of their +fortunes. On the contrary, he considered that a wise arrangement of +his family affairs. + +The home circle of Vladimir Vasilievitch consisted of his +characterless wife, her sister, whose fortune he managed to get into +his own hands by selling her property and depositing the money in his +own name, and his gentle, scared, homely daughter, who was leading a +solitary, hard life, and whose only diversion consisted in visiting +the religious meetings at Aline's and Countess Catherine Ivanovna's. + +The son of Vladimir Vasilievitch, a good-natured, bearded boy of +fifteen, who at that age had already commenced to drink and lead a +depraved life which lasted till he was twenty years old, was driven +from the house for the reason that he did not pass examinations in any +school, and keeping bad company, and, running into debt, he had +compromised his father. The father paid once for his son two hundred +and thirty rubles, and paid six hundred rubles a second time, but +declared that that was the last time, and if the son did not reform he +would drive him from the house and have nothing to do with him. Not +only did the son not reform, but contracted another debt of a thousand +rubles, and told his father that he did not care if he was driven from +the house, since life at home was torture to him. Then Vladimir +Vasilievitch told his son that he could go where he pleased; that he +was no longer his son. Since then no one in the house dared to speak +of his son to him. And Vladimir Vasilievitch was quite certain that he +had arranged his family affairs in the best possible manner. + +Wolf, with a flattering and somewhat derisive smile--it was an +involuntary expression of his consciousness of his comme il faut +superiority--halted in his exercise long enough to greet Nekhludoff +and read the note. + +"Please take a seat, but you must excuse me. If you have no objection +I will walk," he said, putting his hands in the pockets of his +jacket, and treading lightly up and down the diagonal of the large +cabinet, furnished in an austere style. "Very glad to make your +acquaintance, and, of course, to please the Count Ivan Michaelovitch," +emitting the fragrant, blue smoke, and carefully removing the cigar +from his mouth so as not to lose the ashes. + +"I would like to ask you to hasten the hearing of the appeal, because +if the prisoner is to go to Siberia, it would be desirable that she go +as soon as possible," said Nekhludoff. + +"Yes, yes, with the first steamer from Nijhni; I know," said Wolf, +with his condescending smile, who always knew everything in advance, +whatever the subject mentioned to him. "What is the name of the +prisoner?" + +"Maslova." + +Wolf walked to the table and looked into the papers. + +"That's right--Maslova. Very well; I will ask my associates. We will +hear the case Wednesday." + +"May I wire my lawyer?" + +"So you have a lawyer? What for? But if you wish it, all right." + +"The grounds of appeal may be insufficient," said Nekhludoff, "but I +think it may be seen from the case that the sentence was the result of +a misunderstanding." + +"Yes, yes; that may be so, but the Senate cannot enter into the merits +of the case," said Vladimir Vasilievitch, sternly, glancing at the +ashes of his cigar. "The Senate only looks after the proper +interpretation and application of the law." + +"This, I think, is an exceptional case." + +"I know; I know. All cases are exceptional. We will do what the law +requires. That is all." The ashes were still intact, but had already +cracked and were in danger of collapse. "And do you often visit St. +Petersburg?" asked Wolf, holding the cigar so that the ashes would not +fall. The ashes were unstable, however, and Wolf carefully carried +them to the ash-holder, into which they were finally precipitated. + +"What an awful catastrophe Kamensky met with," said Wolf. "A fine +young man, and an only son. Especially the condition of the +mother"--he went on repeating almost word for word the story of a duel +of which all St. Petersburg was talking at the time. After a few more +words about Countess Catherine Ivanovna and her passion for the new +religious tendency which Vladimir Vasilievitch neither praised nor +condemned, but which, for un homme tres comme il faut, was evidently +superfluous, he rang the bell. + +Nekhludoff bowed himself out. + +"If it is convenient for you, come to dinner," said Wolf, extending +his hand, "say on Wednesday. I will then give you a definite answer." + +It was already late, and Nekhludoff drove home, that is, to his +aunt's. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +Maslova's case was to be heard the following day, and Nekhludoff went +to the Senate. He met Fanirin at the entrance to the magnificent +Senate building, where several carriages were already waiting. Walking +up the grand, solemn staircase to the second floor, the lawyer, who +was familiar with all the passages, turned into a room to the left, on +the door of which was carved the year of the institution of the Code. +The lawyer removed his overcoat, remaining in his dress-coat and black +tie on a white bosom, and with cheerful self-confidence walked into +the next room. There were about fifteen spectators present, among whom +were a young woman in a pince-nez, and a gray-haired lady. A +gray-haired old man of patriarchal mien, wearing a box-coat and gray +trousers, and attended by two men, attracted particular attention. He +crossed the room and entered a wardrobe. + +An usher, a handsome man with red cheeks and in a pompous uniform, +approached Fanirin with a piece of paper in his hand and asked him in +what case he appeared. Being told that in Maslova's case, the usher +made a note of something and went away. At that time the door of the +wardrobe opened and the patriarchal looking old man came forth, no +longer in the coat, but in a brilliant uniform which made him resemble +a bird. His uniform evidently embarrassed the old man, and he walked +into the room opposite the entrance with quicker than his ordinary +step. + +Fanirin pointed him out to Nekhludoff as Be, "a most honorable +gentleman." The spectators, including Fanirin, went into the next room +and seated themselves behind the grating on benches reserved for +spectators. Only the St. Petersburg lawyer took a seat behind a desk +on the other side of the grating. + +The session room of the Senate was smaller than the room of the +Circuit Court, was furnished in simpler style, only the table behind +which the Senators sat was of crimson plush instead of green cloth, +bordered with gold lace. + +There were four Senators. The President, Nikitin, with a closely +shaved, narrow face and steel-gray eyes; Wolf, with thin lips and +small white hands, with which he was turning over the papers before +him; then Skovorodnikoff, stout, massive and pock-marked, and a very +learned jurist, and finally, Be, the same partriarchal old man, who +was the last to arrive. Immediately behind the Senators came the Chief +Secretary and Associate Attorney General. He was a young man of medium +height, shaved, lean, with a very dark face and black, sad eyes. +Nekhludoff recognized him, notwithstanding his strange uniform and the +fact that he had not seen him for about six years, as one of his best +friends during his student life. + +"Is the associate's name Selenin?" he asked the lawyer. + +"Yes, why?" + +"I know him very well; he is an excellent man----" + +"And a good associate of the Attorney General--very sensible. It would +have been well to see him," said Fanirin. + +"At all events, he will follow the dictates of his conscience," said +Nekhludoff, remembering his close relations with and friendship for +Selenin, and the latter's charming qualities of purity, honesty and +good breeding, in the best sense of the word. + +The first case before the Senate was an appeal from the decision of +the Circuit Court of Appeals affirming a judgment in favor of the +publisher of a newspaper in a libel suit brought against him. + +Nekhludoff listened and tried to understand the arguments in the +case, but as in the Circuit Court, the chief difficulty in +understanding what was going on was found in the fact that the +discussion centered not on what appeared naturally to be the main +point, but on side issues. + +The libel consisted in an article accusing the president of a stock +company of swindling. It seemed, then, that the main point to consider +was, whether or not the president was guilty of swindling the +stockholders, and what was to be done to stop his swindling. But this +was never mentioned. The questions discussed were: Had the publisher +the legal right to print the article of its reporter? What crime has +he committed by printing it--defamation or libel? And does defamation +include libel, or libel defamation? And a number of other things +unintelligible to ordinary people, including various laws and +decisions of some "General Department." + +The only thing Nekhludoff did understand was that, though Wolf had +sternly suggested but yesterday that the Senate could not consider the +substance of a case, in the case at bar he argued with evident +partiality in favor of reversing the judgment, and that Selenin, in +spite of his characteristic reserve, argued in favor of affirming the +judgment with unexpected fervor. The cause of Selenin's ardor lay in +the fact that he knew the president of the stock company to be +dishonest in money affairs, while he accidentally learned that Wolf, +almost on the eve of the hearing of the case, had attended a sumptuous +dinner at the president's house. And now, when Wolf, though with great +caution, showed undoubted partiality, Selenin became excited and +expressed his opinion with more nervousness than an ordinary case +would justify. Wolf was evidently offended by the speech; he twitched +nervously, changed color, made silent gestures of wonder, and with an +haughty air of being offended he departed with the other Senators into +the deliberation-room. + +"What case are you interested in?" the usher again asked Fanirin, as +soon as the Senators had left the room. + +"I have already told you that I am here in behalf of Maslova." + +"That is so. The case will be heard to-day. But----" + +"What is that?" asked the lawyer. + +"You see, the case was to be argued without counsel, so that the +Senators would hardly consider it in open session. But--I will +announce----" and he made a note on the piece of paper. + +The Senators really intended, after announcing their decision in the +libel case, to consider the other cases, including Maslova's, while +drinking their tea and smoking cigarettes in the consultation-room. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +As soon as the Senators seated themselves at the table in the +consultation-room, Wolf began to set forth in an animated manner the +grounds upon which he thought the case ought to be reversed. + +The President, always an ill-natured man, was in a particularly bad +humor to-day. While listening to the case during the session he formed +his opinion, and sat, absorbed in his thoughts, without listening to +Wolf. These thoughts consisted in a recollection of what note he had +made the other day in his memoirs anent the appointment of Velianoff +to an important post which he desired for himself. The President, +Nikitin, quite sincerely thought that the officials with whom his +duties brought him in contact were worthy of a place in history. +Having written an article the other day in which some of these +officials were vehemently denounced for interfering with his plan to +save Russia from ruin, as he put it, but in reality for interfering +with his getting a larger salary than he was now getting, he was now +thinking that posterity would give an entirely new interpretation to +that incident. + +"Why, certainly," he said to Wolf, who was addressing him, although he +did not hear what Wolf said. + +Be listened to Wolf with a sad face, drawing garlands on a piece of +paper which lay before him. Be was a liberal of the deepest dye. He +scarcely held to the traditions of the sixties, and if he ever +deviated from strict impartiality, it was invariably in favor of +liberality. Thus, in this case, besides the consideration that the +complaining president of the stock company was an unclean man, Be was +in favor of affirming the judgment, also because this charge of libel +against a journalist was a restriction on the freedom of the press. +When Wolf had finished his argument, Be, leaving the garland +unfinished, in a sad--it was sad for him to be obliged to prove such +truisms--soft, pleasant voice, convincingly proved in a few simple +words that the charge had no foundation, and, again drooping his hoary +head, continued to complete the garland. + +Skovorodnikoff, who was sitting opposite Wolf, continually gathering +with his thick fingers his beard and mustache into his mouth, as soon +as Be was through with his argument, stopped chewing his beard, and, +in a loud, rasping voice, said that although the president of the +stock company was a villain, he should favor a reversal if there were +legal grounds to sustain it, but as there were none, he joined in the +opinion of Ivan Semenovitch (Be), and he invariably rejoiced at this +shot aimed at Wolf. The President supported Skovorodnikoff's opinion, +and the judgment was confirmed. + +Wolf was dissatisfied, especially because by this judgment he seemed +to stand convicted of arguing in bad faith; but, feigning +indifference, he opened his papers in the next case, Maslova's, and +began to peruse it attentively. The other Senators in the meantime +called for tea, and began a talk about Kamensky's duel and his death, +which was then the subject of conversation throughout the city. + +The usher entered and announced the desire of the lawyer and +Nekhludoff to be present at the hearing of the case. + +"This case here," said Wolf, "is a whole romantic story," and he +related what he knew of Nekhludoff's relations to Maslova. + +After talking awhile of the story, smoking cigarettes and finishing +their tea, the Senators returned to the session-room, announced their +decision in the preceding case, and began to consider Maslova's case. + +Wolf very circumstantially set forth Maslova's appeal from the +sentence, and again not without partiality, but with the evident +desire to reverse the judgment. + +"Have you anything to add?" the President asked Fanirin. + +Fanirin rose, and, projecting his broad, starched front, with +remarkable precision of expression began to discuss the errors of the +court below in the application of the law on the six points raised, +and permitted himself, though briefly, to touch upon the merits of the +case and the crying injustice of the decision. By the tone of his +short but strong speech, he seemed to excuse himself, to insist that +the honorable Senators with their power of penetration and judicial +wisdom saw and understood better than he, but that he was speaking +only because his duties demanded it. After Fanirin's speech there +seemed to be no doubt left that the Senate had to reverse the +judgment. When he was through, Fanirin smiled triumphantly. Looking at +his lawyer and seeing that smile, Nekhludoff was convinced that the +case was won. But as he looked at the Senators Nekhludoff saw that +Fanirin alone was smiling and triumphant. The Senators and Associate +Attorney General were neither smiling nor triumphant, but wore the air +of people suffering from ennui and saying: "Oh, we know these cases! +You are wasting your time." They were all evidently relieved only when +the lawyer had finished, and they were no longer unnecessarily +detained. After the speech the President turned to Selenin, who +plainly, briefly and accurately expressed himself against a reversal. +Then the Senators arose and went to consult. + +The Senators were divided. Wolf favored a reversal. Be, who thoroughly +understood the case, warmly argued also in favor of a reversal, and in +glowing terms pictured the court scene and the misunderstanding of the +jury. Nikitin, who, as usual, stood for severity and for strict +formality, was against it. The whole case, then, depended on +Skovorodnikoff's vote. And his vote was thrown against a reversal, +principally for the reason that Nekhludoff's determination to marry +the girl on moral grounds was extremely repugnant to him. + +Skovorodnikoff was a materialist, a Darwinist, and considered every +manifestation of abstract morality, or, worse still, piety, not only +as contemptible and absurd but as an affront to his person. All this +bustle about a fallen girl, and the presence there in the Senate of +her famous counsel and Nekhludoff himself, was to him simply +disgusting. And, stuffing his mouth with his beard, and making +grimaces, he in a very natural manner pretended to know nothing of the +entire affair, except that the grounds of appeal were insufficient, +and therefore agreed with the President to affirm the judgment. + +The appeal was denied. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +"It is awful!" said Nekhludoff to the lawyer, as they entered the +waiting-room. "In the plainest possible case they cavil at idle forms. +It is awful!" + +"The case was spoiled at the trial," said Fanirin. + +"Selenin, too, was against reversal. It is awful, awful!" Nekhludoff +continued to repeat. "What is to be done now?" + +"We will petition the Emperor. Head it yourself while you are here. I +will prepare the petition." + +At that moment Wolf in his uniform and stars hung on his breast +entered the waiting-room and approached Nekhludoff. + +"I am sorry, my dear Prince, but the grounds were insufficient," he +said, shrugging his narrow shoulders; and, closing his eyes, he +proceeded on his way. + +After Wolf came Selenin, who had learned from the Senators that +Nekhludoff, his former friend, was present. + +"I did not expect to meet you here," he said, approaching Nekhludoff +and smiling with his lips, while his eyes remained sad. + +"And I did not know that you were the Attorney General." + +"Associate," Selenin corrected him. "But what brought you to the +Senate?" + +"I came here hoping to find justice, and to save an innocent woman." + +"What woman?" + +"The case that has just been decided." + +"Oh, the Maslova case!" said Selenin. "An entirely groundless +appeal." + +"The question is not of the appeal, but of the woman, who is innocent +and undergoing punishment." + +Selenin sighed. + +"Quite possible, but----" + +"It is not merely possible, but certain." + +"How do you know?" + +"I know because I was on the jury. I know wherein we made the +mistake." + +Selenin became thoughtful. + +"It should have been declared on the trial," he said. + +"I did so." + +"It should have been made part of the record. If that had appeared in +the appeal----" + +Selenin, who was always busy, and did not mingle in society, had +evidently not heard of Nekhludoff's romance. Nekhludoff, however, +decided not to speak to him of his relations to Maslova. + +"But it is evident even now that the verdict was preposterous," he +said. + +"The Senate has no right to say so. If the Senate attempted to +interfere with the verdicts of the courts upon its own view of the +justness of the verdicts themselves, there would be greater risks of +justice being miscarried than established," he said, recalling the +preceding case. "Besides, the verdicts of juries would lose their +significance." + +"I only know one thing, and that is that the woman is entirely +innocent, and the last hope of saving her from an undeserved +punishment is gone. The highest judicial institution has affirmed what +was absolutely unjust." + +"It has not affirmed because it has not and could not consider the +merits of the case," said Selenin, blinking his eyes. "You have +probably stopped at your aunts," he added, evidently wishing to change +the subject of conversation. "I learned yesterday that you were in St. +Petersburg. Countess Catherine Ivanovna had invited me and you to be +present at the meeting of the English preacher," said Selenin, smiling +only with his lips. + +"Yes, I was present, but left with disgust," Nekhludoff said angrily, +vexed at Selenin's leading away from the conversation. + +"Why should you be disgusted? At all events it is a manifestation of +religious feeling, although one-sided and sectarian," said Selenin. + +"It is such strange nonsense," said Nekhludoff. + +"Well, no. The only strange thing here is that we know so little of +the teachings of our church that we receive an exposition of its +fundamental dogmas as a new revelation," said Selenin, as though +hastening to tell his former friends his new views. + +Nekhludoff gazed at Selenin with wonder. Selenin did not lower his +eyes, in which there was an expression not only of sadness, but of +ill-will. + +"But we will discuss it later," said Selenin. "I am coming," he turned +to the usher who approached him deferentially. "We must meet again," +he added, sighing; "but you can never be found. You will always find +me at home at seven. I live on Nadeghinskaia," and he mentioned the +number. "It is a long time since we met," he added, again smiling with +his lips. + +"I will come if I have the time," said Nekhludoff, feeling that the +man whom he had once loved was made strange and incomprehensible to +him, if not hostile, by this short conversation. + + * * * * * + +As student Nekhludoff knew Selenin as a dutiful son, a true friend, +and, for his years, an educated, worldly man, with great tact, always +elegant and handsome, and uncommonly truthful and honest withal. He +studied diligently, without any difficulty and without the slightest +ostentation, receiving gold medals for his compositions. + +He had made it the aim of his young life, not merely by word, but in +reality, to serve others, and thought he saw his chance of doing so in +government service. Systematically looking over the various activities +to which he might devote his energies, he decided that he could be +most useful in the legislative department, and entered it. But +notwithstanding his most accurate and conscientious attention to his +duties, he found nothing in them to satisfy his desire to be useful. +His discontent, due to the pettiness and vanity of his immediate +superiors, grew until an opportunity offered to enter the Senate. He +was better off in the Senate, but the same feeling of dissatisfaction +pursued him. He constantly felt that things were not what he expected +them to be, and what they should be. During his service in the Senate, +his relations obtained for him the post of gentleman of the Emperor's +bed-chamber, and he was obliged to drive around in gorgeous uniform to +thank various people. In this post he felt even more than before out +of place. At the same time, on the one hand, he could not refuse the +appointment, because he would not disappoint those who thought they +were pleasing him by it, and, on the other hand, the appointment +flattered his vanity. It pleased him to see himself in a looking-glass +in a gold embroidered uniform, and to receive the tokens of respect +shown him by some people on his appointment. + +The same thing happened with respect to his marriage. A brilliant +match was arranged for him, as it is regarded from the world's +standpoint. And he married principally because to refuse would have +been to offend and cause pain to the bride and those who had arranged +the match. Hence the marriage to a young, pretty, distinguished girl +flattered his vanity and gave him pleasure. But the marriage soon +turned out to be "not the thing, you know," more so even than Court +service. After her first child, his wife did not wish to have any +more, and plunged into luxurious social life, in which he was obliged +to participate nolens volens. Although this poisoned the life of her +husband, and brought her only exertion and fatigue, she nevertheless +diligently pursued it. All his efforts to change her mode of life +could not alter her confidence, supported by all her relatives and +acquaintances, that it was quite proper. + +The child, a girl with long, golden curls, was an entire stranger to +her father, mainly because she was brought up not in accord with his +desires. The result was the customary misunderstanding between the +husband and wife, and even in a want of desire to understand each +other, and a quiet, silent struggle, hidden from strangers and +tempered by propriety, which made Selenin's life at home very +burdensome. So that his family life turned out to be "not the thing, +you know," in still greater degree than his service or the Court +appointment. + +These were the reasons why his eyes were always sad. And this was why, +seeing Nekhludoff, whom he had known before all these lies had +fastened themselves upon him, he thought of himself as he had been +then, and more than ever felt the discord between his character and +his surroundings, and he became painfully sad. The same feeling came +over Nekhludoff, after the first impression of joy at meeting an old +friend. + +That was why, having promised that they would meet each other, neither +sought that meeting, nor had they seen each other on this visit of +Nekhludoff to St. Petersburg. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +On leaving the Senate, Nekhludoff and his lawyer walked along the +sidewalk. Fanirin told his driver to follow him, and he began to +relate to Nekhludoff how the mistress of so-and-so had made millions +on 'Change, how so-and-so had sold, and another had bought, his wife. +He also related some stories of swindling and all sorts of crimes +committed by well-known people who were not occupying cells in prison, +but presidents' chairs in various institutions. These stories, of +which he seemed to possess an inexhaustible source, afforded the +lawyer great pleasure, as showing most conclusively that the means +employed by him as a lawyer to make money were perfectly innocent in +comparison with those used by the more noted public men of St. +Petersburg. And the lawyer was greatly surprised when Nekhludoff, in +the middle of one of these stories, hailed a trap, took leave and +drove home. Nekhludoff was very sad. He was sad because the Senate's +judgment continued the unreasonable suffering of the innocent Maslova, +and also because it made it more difficult for him to carry out his +unalterable intention of joining his fate to hers. His sadness +increased as the lawyer related with so much pleasure the frightful +stories of the prevailing wickedness. Besides, the unkind, cold, +repelling gaze of the once charming, open-hearted and noble Selenin +constantly recurred to his mind. Nekhludoff, after the impressions of +his stay in St. Petersburg, was almost in despair of ever reaching any +results. All the plans he had laid out in Moskow seemed to him like +those youthful dreams which usually end in disappointment. However, he +considered it his duty, while in St. Petersburg, to exhaust his +resources in endeavoring to fulfill his mission. + +Soon after he reached his room, a servant called him upstairs for tea. +Mariette, in a multi-colored dress, was sitting beside the Countess, +sipping tea. On Nekhludoff's entering the room, Mariette had just +dropped some funny, indecent joke. Nekhludoff noticed it by the +character of their laughter. The good-natured, mustached Countess +Catherine Ivanovna was shaking in all her stout body with laughter, +while Mariette, with a particularly mischievous expression, and her +energetic and cheerful face somewhat bent to one side, was silently +looking at her companion. + +"You will be the death of me," said the Countess, in a fit of +coughing. + +No sooner had Nekhludoff seated himself than Mariette, noticing the +serious and slightly displeased expression on his face, immediately +changed not only her expression, but her frame of mind. This was with +the intention she had in mind since she first saw him--to get him to +like her. She suddenly became grave, dissatisfied with her life, +seeking something, striving after something. She not merely feigned, +but actually induced in herself a state of mind similar to that in +which Nekhludoff was, although she would not be able to say what it +consisted of. In a sympathetic conversation about the injustice of the +strong, the poverty of the people, the awful condition of the +prisoners, she succeeded in rousing in him the least expected feeling +of physical attraction, and under the din of conversation their eyes +plainly queried, "Can you love me?" and they answered, "Yes, I can." + +On leaving, she told him that she was always ready to be of service to +him, and asked him to visit her at the theatre the next day, if only +for a minute, saying that she wished to have a talk with him on a +matter of importance. + +"When will I see you again?" she added, sighing, and carefully +putting the gloves on her ring-bedecked hand. "Tell me that you will +come." + +Nekhludoff promised to come. + +For a long time that night Nekhludoff could not fall asleep. When he +recalled Maslova, the decision of the Senate, and his determination to +follow her; when he recalled his relinquishment of his right to the +land, there suddenly appeared before him, as if in answer to these +questions, the face of Mariette; her sigh and glance when she said, +"When will I see you again?" and her smile--all so distinct that she +seemed to stand before him, and he smiled himself. "Would it be proper +for me to follow her to Siberia? And would it be proper to deprive +myself of my property?" he asked himself. + +And the answers to these questions on that bright St. Petersburg night +were indefinite. His mind was all in confusion. He called forth his +former trend of thought, but those thoughts had lost their former +power of conviction. + +"And what if all my ideas are due to an over-wrought imagination, and +I should be unable to live up to them? If I should repent of what I +have done?" he asked himself, and, being unable to find answers to +these questions, he was stricken with such sadness and despair as he +had rarely experienced before, and he fell into that deep slumber +which had been habitual with him after heavy losses at cards. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +Nekhludoff's first feeling on rising the following morning was that he +had committed something abominable the preceding evening. + +He began to recall what had happened. There was nothing abominable; he +had done nothing wrong. He had only thought that all his present +intentions--that of marrying Katiousha, giving the land to the +peasants--artificial, unnatural, and that he must continued to live as +he had lived before. + +He could recall no wrong act, but he remembered what was worse than a +wrong act--there were the bad thoughts in which all bad acts have +their origin. Bad acts may not be repeated; one may repent of them, +while bad thoughts give birth to bad acts. + +A bad act only smooths the way to other bad acts, while bad thoughts +irresistibly lead toward them. + +Recalling his thoughts of the day before, Nekhludoff wondered how he +could have believed them. How so novel and difficult might be that +which he intended to do, he knew that it was the only life possible to +him now, and that, however easy it might be for him to return to his +old mode of life, he knew that that was death, not life. This +temptation of the day before was similar to that of a man who, after a +night's sound sleep, feels like taking his ease on the soft mattress +for a while, although he knows that it is time to be up and away on an +important affair. + + * * * * * + +Nekhludoff would have left the same evening but for his promise to +Mariette to visit her at the theatre. Though he knew that it was wrong +to do it, he went there, contrary to the dictates of his own +conscience, considering himself bound to keep his word. Besides his +wish to see Mariette again, he also wished, as he thought, to measure +himself against that world lately so near, but now so strange to him. + +"Could I withstand these temptations?" he thought, but not with entire +sincerity. "I will try it for the last time." + +Attired in a dress-coat, he arrived in the theatre where the eternal +"Dame aux Camelias" was being played. A French actress was showing in +a novel way how consumptive women die. + +Nekhludoff was shown to the box occupied by Mariette. In the corridor +a liveried servant bowed and opened the door for him. + +All the spectators in the circle of boxes--sitting and standing, +gray-haired, bald and pomaded heads--were intently following the +movements of a slim actress making wry faces and in an unnatural voice +reading a monologue. Some one hissed when the door was opened, and +two streams of cold and warm air were wafted on Nekhludoff's face. + +In the box he found Mariette and a strange lady with a red mantle over +her shoulders and high head-dress, and two men--a general, Mariette's +husband, a handsome, tall man with a high, artificial, military +breast, and a flaxen haired, bald-headed man with shaved chin and +solemn side-whiskers. Mariette, graceful, slim, elegant, decolette, +with her strong, muscular shoulders sloping down from the neck, at the +jointure of which was a darkening little mole, immediately turned +around, and, pointing with her fan to a chair behind her, greeted him +with a welcome, grateful, and, as it seemed to Nekhludoff, significant +smile. Her husband calmly, as was his wont, looked at Nekhludoff and +bowed his head. In the glance which he exchanged with his wife, as in +everything else, he looked the master, the owner, of a beautiful +woman. + +There was a thunder of applause when the monologue ended. Mariette +rose, and, holding in one hand her rustling silk skirt, walked to the +rear of the box and introduced Nekhludoff to her husband. The general +incessantly smiled with his eyes, said he was glad, and remained calm +and mute. + +"I had to leave to-day, but I promised you," said Nekhludoff, turning +to Mariette. + +"If you don't wish to see me, you will see a remarkable actress," +Mariette said, answering the meaning of his words. "Wasn't she great +in the last scene?" she turned to her husband. + +The general bowed his head. + +"That does not affect me," said Nekhludoff. "I have seen so much real +misfortune to-day that----" + +"Sit down and tell us what you have seen." + +The husband listened, and ironically smiled with his eyes. + +"I went to see that woman who has been released. She is entirely +broken down." + +"That is the woman of whom I have spoken to you," Mariette said to her +husband. + +"Yes; I was very glad that she could be released," he calmly said, +nodding his head and smiling ironically, as it seemed to Nekhludoff, +under his mustache. "I will go to the smoking-room." + +Nekhludoff waited, expecting that Mariette would tell him that +something which she said she had to tell him, but instead she only +jested and talked of the performance, which, she thought, ought to +affect him particularly. + +Nekhludoff understood that the only purpose for which she had brought +him to the theatre was to display her evening toilet with her +shoulders and mole, and he was both pleased and disgusted. Now he saw +what was under the veil of the charm that at first attracted him. +Looking on Mariette, he admired her, but he knew that she was a +prevaricator who was living with her career-making husband; that what +she had said the other day was untrue, and that she only wished--and +neither knew why--to make him love her. And, as has been said, he was +both pleased and disgusted. Several times he attempted to leave, took +his hat but still remained. But finally, when the general, his thick +mustache reeking with tobacco, returned to the box and glanced at +Nekhludoff patronizingly disdainful, as if he did not recognize him, +Nekhludoff walked out before the door closed behind the general, and, +finding his overcoat, left the theatre. + +On his way home he suddenly noticed before him a tall, well-built, +loudly-dressed woman. Every passer-by turned to look at her. +Nekhludoff walked quicker than the woman, and also involuntarily +looked her in the face. Her face, probably rouged, was pretty; her +eyes flashed at him, and she smiled. Nekhludoff involuntarily thought +of Mariette, for he experienced the same feeling of attraction and +disgust which took hold of him in the theatre. Passing her hastily, +Nekhludoff turned the corner of the street, and, to the surprise of +the policeman, began to walk up and down the water-front. + +"That one in the theatre also smiled that way when I entered," he +thought, "and the smile of the former conveyed the same meaning as +that of the latter. The only difference between them is that this one +speaks openly and plainly, while the other pretends to be exercising +higher and refined feelings. But in reality they are alike. This one +is at least truthful, while the other is lying." Nekhludoff recalled +his relations with the wife of the district commander, and a flood of +shameful recollections came upon him. "There is a disgusting +bestiality in man," he thought; "but when it is in a primitive state, +one looks down upon and despises it, whether he is carried away with +or withstands it. But when this same bestiality hides itself under a +so-called aesthetic, poetic cover, and demands to be worshiped, then, +deifying the beast, one gives himself up to it, without distinguishing +between the good and the bad. Then it is horrible." + +As there was no soothing, rest-giving darkness that night, but instead +there was a hazy, cheerless, unnatural light, so even was there no +rest-giving darkness--ignorance--for Nekhludoff's soul. Everything was +clear. It was plain that all that is considered important and useful +is really insignificant and wicked, and that all that splendor and +luxury were hiding old crimes, familiar to every one, and not only +stalking unpunished, but triumphing and adorned with all the +allurements man is capable of conceiving. + +Nekhludoff wished to forget it, not to see it, but he could no longer +help seeing it. Although he did not see the source of the light which +revealed these things to him, as he did not see the source of the +light which spread over St. Petersburg, and though this light seemed +to him hazy, cheerless and unnatural, he could not help seeing that +which the light revealed to him, and he felt at the same time both joy +and alarm. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Immediately upon his arrival in Moskow, Nekhludoff made his way to the +prison hospital, intending to make known to Maslova the Senate's +decision and to tell her to prepare for the journey to Siberia. + +Of the petition which he brought for Maslova's signature, he had +little hope. And, strange to say, he no longer wished to succeed. He +had accustomed himself to the thought of going to Siberia, and living +among the exiles and convicts, and it was difficult for him to imagine +how he should order his life and that of Maslova if she were freed. + +The door-keeper at the hospital, recognizing Nekhludoff, immediately +informed him that Maslova was no longer there. + +"Where is she, then?" + +"Why, again in the prison." + +"Why was she transferred?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"Your Excellency knows their kind," said the door-keeper, with a +contemptuous smile. "She was making love to the assistant, so the +chief physician sent her back." + +Nekhludoff did not suspect that Maslova and her spiritual condition +were so close to him. This news stunned him. The feeling he +experienced was akin to that which people experience when hearing +suddenly of some great misfortune. He was deeply grieved. The first +feeling he experienced was that of shame. His joyful portraying of her +spiritual awakening now seemed to him ridiculous. Her reluctance to +accept his sacrifice, the reproaches and the tears, were the mere +cunning, he thought, of a dissolute woman who wished to make the most +use of him. It seemed to him now that at his last visit he had seen in +her the symptoms of incorrigibility which were now evident. All this +flashed through his mind at the time he instinctively donned his hat +and left the hospital. + +"But what's to be done now?" he asked himself. "Am I bound to her? Am +I not released now by this, her act?" + +But no sooner did he form the question than he understood that in +considering himself released and leaving her to her fate he would be +punishing not her, which he desired, but himself, and he was +terrified. + +"No! That will not alter my decision--it will only strengthen it. Let +her do whatever her soul prompts her to do; if she would make love to +the assistant, let her do so. It is her business. It is my business to +do what my conscience demands," he said to himself. "And my conscience +demands that I sacrifice my liberty in expiation of my sin, and my +decision to marry her, although but fictitiously, and follow her +wherever she may be sent, remains unaltered," he said to himself, with +spiteful obstinacy, and, leaving the hospital, he made his way with +resolute step to the prison gate. + +Coming to the gate, he asked the officer on duty to tell the +inspector that he wished to see Maslova. The officer knew Nekhludoff, +and told him an important piece of prison news. The captain had +resigned, and another man, who was very strict, had taken his place. + +The inspector, who was in the prison at the time, soon made his +appearance. He was tall, bony, very slow in his movements, and gloomy. + +"Visitors are allowed only on certain days," he said, without looking +at Nekhludoff. + +"But I have a petition here which she must sign." + +"You may give it to me." + +"I must see the prisoner myself. I was always permitted to see her +before." + +"That was before," said the inspector, glancing at Nekhludoff. + +"I have a pass from the Governor," Nekhludoff insisted, producing his +pocket-book. + +"Let me see it," said the inspector, without looking in Nekhludoff's +eyes, and taking the document with his skinny, long, white hand, on +the index finger of which there was a gold ring, he slowly read it. +"Walk into the office, please," he said. + +On this occasion there was no one in the office. The inspector seated +himself at the table, looking through the papers that lay on it, +evidently intending to stay through the meeting. When Nekhludoff asked +him if Bogodukhovskaia could be seen, he answered: "Visiting the +politicals is not allowed," and again buried his head in the papers. + +When Maslova entered the room, the inspector raised his eyes, and, +without looking either at Maslova or Nekhludoff, said: "You may go +ahead," and continued to busy himself with his papers. + +Maslova was again dressed in a white skirt, waist and 'kerchief. +Coming near Nekhludoff and seeing his cold, angry face, her own turned +a purple color, and, with downcast eyes, she began to pick a corner of +her waist. Her confusion Nekhludoff considered as confirmation of the +hospital porter's words. + +So abhorent was she to him now that he _could not_ extend his hand to +her, as he desired. + +[Illustration: WARDEN AND MATRON.] + +"I bring you bad news," he said in an even voice, without looking at +her. "The Senate affirmed the verdict." + +"I knew it would be so," she said in a strange voice, as if choking. + +If it had happened before, Nekhludoff would have asked her why she +knew it; now he only looked at her. Her eyes were filled with tears, +but this not only did not soften him, but made him even more inflamed +against her. + +The inspector rose and began to walk up and down the room. + +Notwithstanding the abhorence Nekhludoff felt for Maslova, he thought +it proper to express his regret at the Senate's action. + +"Do not despair," he said. "This petition may be more successful, and +I hope that----" + +"Oh, it is not that," she said, looking at him with the tearful and +squinting eyes. + +"What, then?" + +"You have been in the hospital, and they must have told you there +about me." + +"What of it? That is your business," frowning, Nekhludoff said with +indifference. The cruel feeling of offended pride rose in him with +greater force at her mention of the hospital. "I, a man of the world, +whom any girl of the upper class would be only too happy to marry, +offered to become the husband of that woman, and she could not wait, +but made love to the assistant surgeon," he thought, looking at her +with hatred. + +"Sign this petition," he said, and, taking from his pocket a large +envelope, placed it on the table. She wiped her tears with a corner of +her 'kerchief, seated herself at the table, and asked him where to +sign. + +He showed her where, and she, seating herself, smoothed with her left +hand the sleeve of the right. He stood over her, silently looking at +her back bent over the table, and now and then shaking from the sobs +she tried to suppress, and his soul was convulsed by a struggle +between good and evil, between offended pride and pity for her +sufferings. The feeling of pity conquered. + +Whether it was the feeling of pity that first asserted itself, or the +recollection of his own deeds of the same character for which he +reproached her, he scarcely knew, but suddenly he felt himself guilty +and pitied her. + +Having signed the petition and wiped her soiled fingers on her skirt, +she rose and glanced at him. + +"Whatever the result, and no matter what happens, I shall keep my +word," said Nekhludoff. + +The thought that he was forgiving her strengthened in him the feeling +of pity and tenderness for her, and he wished to console her. + +"I will do what I said. I will be with you wherever you may be." + +"That's no use," she hastened to say, and her face became radiant. + +"Make note of what you need for the road." + +"Nothing particular, I think. Thank you." + +The inspector approached them, and Nekhludoff, without waiting to be +told that the time was up, took leave of her, experiencing a new +feeling of quiet happiness, calmness and love for all mankind. It was +the consciousness that no act of Maslova could alter his love for her +that raised his spirit and made him feel happy. Let her make love to +the assistant--that was her business. He loved her not for himself, +but for her and for God. + + * * * * * + +The love-making for which Maslova was expelled from the hospital, and +to which Nekhludoff gave credence, consisted only in that, when +Maslova, coming to the drug department for some pectoral herbs, +prescribed by her superior, she found there an assistant, named +Ustinoff. This Ustinoff had been pursuing her with his attentions for +a long time, and as he tried to embrace her she pushed him away with +such force that he struck the shelving, and two bottles came crashing +to the floor. + +The chief physician was passing at the time, and, hearing the sound of +the breaking glass, and seeing Maslova running out, all flushed, he +angrily shouted to her: + +"Well, girl, if you begin to flirt here, I will send you back. What is +the matter?" he turned to the assistant, sternly looking over his +spectacles. + +The assistant, smiling, began to apologize. The doctor, without +hearing him to the last, raised his head so that he began to look +through the glasses, and walked into the ward. On the same day he +asked the inspector to send a more sedate nurse in place of Maslova. +Maslova's expulsion from the hospital on the ground of flirting was +particularly painful to her by reason of the fact that, after her +meeting with Nekhludoff, all association with men, which had _been_ so +repugnant to her, became even more disgusting. + +The fact that, judging her by her past and present condition, +everybody, including the pimpled assistant, thought that they had the +right to insult her, and were surprised when she refused their +attentions, was very painful to her and called forth her tears and +pity for herself. Now, coming out to see Nekhludoff, she wished to +explain the injustice of the charge which he had probably heard. But +as she attempted to do so, she felt that he would not believe her; +that her explanation would only tend to corroborate the suspicion, and +her tears welled up in her throat, and she became silent. + +Maslova was still thinking, and continued to assure herself that, as +she had told him on his second visit, she had not forgiven him; that +she hated him, but, in reality, she had long since begun to love him +again, and loved him so that she involuntarily carried out his wishes. +She ceased to drink and smoke, she gave up flirting, and willingly +went as servant to the hospital. All this she did because she knew he +wished it. Her repeated refusal to accept his sacrifice was partly due +to the fact that she wished to repeat those proud words which she had +once told him, and mainly because she knew that their marriage would +make him unhappy. She was firmly resolved not to accept his sacrifice, +and yet it was painful for her to think that he despised her; that he +thought her to be the same as she had been, and did not see the change +she was undergoing. The fact that he was at that moment thinking that +she did something wrong in the hospital pained her more than the news +that she was finally sentenced to hard labor. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +Maslova might be sent away with the first party of exiles; hence +Nekhludoff was preparing for departure. But he had so many things to +attend to that he felt that he could never get through with them, no +matter how much time there might be left for preparations. It was +different in former times. Then it was necessary to devise something +to do, and the interest in all his affairs centered in Dmitri +Ivanovich Nekhludoff. But though all interest in life centered in +Dmitri Ivanovich, he always suffered from ennui. Now, however, all his +affairs related to people other than Dmitri Ivanovich, and were all +interesting and attractive, as well as inexhaustible. + +Besides, formerly the occupation with the affairs of Dmitri Ivanovich +always caused vexation and irritation; while these affairs of others +for the most part put him in a happy mood. + +Nekhludoff's affairs were now divided into three parts. He himself, in +his habitual pedantism, thus divided them, and according placed them +in three different portfolios. + +The first was that of Maslova. This consisted in efforts to obtain a +successful result in the pending petition, and preparations for +departure to Siberia. + +The second part related to the settlement of his estates. The Panov +land was granted to the peasants on condition of their paying a rent +to be used for common necessities. But, in order to complete that +arrangement, it was necessary to sign an agreement and also make his +will. The arrangement made for the Kusminskoie estate was to remain in +force, only there remained to be determined what part of the rent he +was to appropriate to himself, and what was to be left for the benefit +of the peasants. Without knowing what his necessary disbursements +would be on his trip to Siberia, he could not make up his mind to +deprive himself of his income, although he reduced it by one-half. + +The third part related to aid to prisoners, who were now applying to +him more and more frequently. + +At first, when written to for aid, he proceeded immediately to +intercede for the applicants, endeavoring to relieve their condition, +but in the end their number became so great that he found it +impossible to help every one, and was involuntarily brought to a +fourth matter, which had of late occupied him more than either of the +others. + +His fourth concern consisted in solving the question, Why, how and +whence came that remarkable institution called the Criminal Court, to +which was due the existence of that prison, with the inmates of which +he had become somewhat familiar, and all those places of confinement, +beginning with the fortress dedicated to two saints, Peter and Paul, +and ending with the island of Saghalin, where hundreds and thousands +of victims of that wonderful criminal law were languishing? + +From personal contact with prisoners, and from information received +from the lawyer, the prison chaplain, the inspector, and from the +prison register, Nekhludoff came to the conclusion that the prisoners, +so-called criminals, could be divided into five classes. The first +class consisted of people entirely innocent, victims of judicial +mistakes, such as that would-be incendiary, Menshov, or Maslova, and +others. There were comparatively few people of this class, according +to the observations of the chaplain--about seven per cent.--but their +condition attracted particular attention. The second class consisted +of people convicted for offenses committed under exceptional +circumstances, such as anger, jealousy, drunkenness, etc.--offenses +which, under similar circumstances, would almost invariably have been +committed by all those who judged and punished them. This class made +up, according to Nekhludoff's observations, more than one-half of all +the prisoners. To the third class belonged those who committed, +according to their own ideas, the most indifferent or even good acts, +but which were considered criminal by people--entire strangers to +them--who were making the laws. To this class belonged all those who +carried on a secret trade in wine, or were bringing in contraband +goods, or were picking herbs, or gathering wood, in private or +government forests. To this class also belonged the predatory +mountaineers. + +The fourth class consisted of people who, according to Nekhludoff, +were reckoned among the criminals only because they were morally above +the average level of society. Among these the percentage of those who +resisted interference with their affairs, or were sentenced for +resisting the authorities, was very large. + +The fifth class, finally, was composed of people who were more sinned +against by society than they sinned themselves. These were the +helpless people, blunted by constant oppression and temptation, like +that boy with the mats, and hundreds of others whom Nekhludoff saw +both in and out of prison, and the conditions of those whose lives +systematically drove them to the necessity of committing those acts +which are called crimes. To these people belonged, according to +Nekhludoff's observations, many thieves and murderers, with some of +whom Nekhludoff had come in contact. Among these Nekhludoff found, on +close acquaintance, those spoiled and depraved people whom the new +school calls the criminal type, and the existence of which in society +is given as the reason for the necessity of criminal law and +punishment. These so-called depraved types, deviating from the normal, +were, according to Nekhludoff, none other than those very people who +have sinned less against society than society has sinned against them, +and against whom society has sinned, not directly, but through their +ancestors. + +Nekhludoff's attention was attracted by a habitual thief, Okhotin, who +came under this head. He was the son of a fallen woman; had grown up +in lodging-houses, and till the age of thirty had never met a moral +man. In childhood he had fallen in with a gang of thieves, but he +possessed a humorous vein which attracted people to him. While asking +Nekhludoff for aid he jested at himself, the judges, the prison and +all the laws, not only criminal, but even divine. There was also a +fine-looking man, Fedorff, who, in company with a gang of which he was +the leader, had killed and robbed an old official. This one was a +peasant whose father's house had been illegally taken from him, and +who, while in the army, suffered for falling in love with an officer's +mistress. He was attractive and passionate. His sole desire in life +was to enjoy himself, and he had never met any people who, out of any +consideration, tempered their passions, nor had he ever heard that +there was any other aim in life than personal enjoyment. It was plain +to Nekhludoff that these two were richly endowed by nature, and were +only neglected and mutilated as plants are sometimes neglected and +mutilated. He also came across a vagabond, and a woman, whose +stupidity and apparent cruelty were repulsive, but he failed to find +in them that criminal type spoken of by the Italian school. He only +saw in them people who were disagreeable to him personally, like some +he had met in dress-coats, uniforms, and laces. + +Thus the investigation of the question: Why are people of such great +variety of character confined in prisons, while others, no different +than those, enjoy freedom and even judge those people? was the fourth +concern of Nekhludoff. + +At first he hoped to find an answer to this question in books, and +bought every book bearing on the subject. He bought the works of +Lombroso, Garofalo, Ferri, Mandsley and Tard, and read them carefully. +But the more he read them, the greater was his disappointment. The +same thing happened with him that happens with people who appeal to +science with direct, simple, vital questions, and not with a view of +playing the part of an expounder, writer or teacher in it. Science +solved a thousand and one various abstruse, complicated questions +bearing on criminal law, but failed to give an answer to the question +he had formed. His question was very simple: Why and by what right do +some people confine, torture, exile, flog and kill other people no +different than they are themselves? And in answer they argued the +questions: Whether or not man is a free agent? Can a criminal be +distinguished by the measurements of his cranium? To what extent is +crime due to heredity? What is morality? What is insanity? What is +degeneracy? What is temperament? How does climate, food, ignorance, +emulation, hypnotism, passion affect crime? What is society? What are +its duties? etc., etc. + +These arguments reminded Nekhludoff of an answer he had once received +from a schoolboy. He asked the boy whether he had learned the +declension of nouns. "Yes," answered the boy. "Well, then decline +'Paw.'" "What paw? A dog's paw?" the boy answered, with a sly +expression on his face. Similar answers in the form of questions +Nekhludoff found in scientific books to his one basic question. + +He found there many wise, learned and interesting things, but there +was no answer to his principal question: By what right do some people +punish others? Not only was there no answer, but all reasoning tended +to explain and justify punishment, the necessity of which was +considered an axiom. Nekhludoff read much, but only by fits and +starts, and the want of an answer he ascribed to such superficial +reading. He, therefore, refused to believe in the justice of the +answer which constantly occurred to him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +The deportation of the party of convicts to which Maslova belonged was +set for the fifth of July, and Nekhludoff was prepared to follow her +on that day. The day before his departure his sister, with her +husband, arrived in town to see him. + +Nekhludoff's sister, Natalie Ivanovna Ragojhinsky, was ten years his +senior. He had grown up partly under her influence. She loved him when +he was a boy, and before her marriage they treated each other as +equals; she was twenty-five and he was fifteen. She had been in love +then with his deceased friend, Nikolenka Irtenieff. They both loved +Nikolenka, and loved in him and in themselves the good that was in +them, and which unifies all people. + +Since that time they had both became corrupted--he by the bad life he +was leading; she by her marriage to a man whom she loved sensually, +but who not only did not love all that which she and Dimitri at one +time considered most holy and precious, but did not even understand +it, and all those aspirations to moral perfection and to serving +others, to which she had once devoted herself, he ascribed to +selfishness and a desire to show off before people. + +Ragojhinsky was a man without reputation or fortune, but a clever +fortune hunter, who, by skillful manoeuvering between liberalism and +conservatism, availing himself of that dominating tendency which +promised bitter results in life, but principally by something peculiar +which attracted women to him, he succeeded in making a relatively +brilliant judicial career. He was already past his youth when he met +Nekhludoff abroad, made Natalie, who was also not very young, to fall +in love with him, and married her almost against the wish of her +mother, who said that it would be a mesalliance. Nekhludoff, although +he concealed it from himself and struggled against the feeling, hated +his brother-in-law. He disliked his vulgar feelings, his +self-confident narrowness of mind, but, principally, because of his +sister, who should so passionately, egotistically and sensually love +such a poor nature, and to please whom she should stifle all her noble +sentiments. It was always painful to Nekhludoff to think of Natalie as +the wife of that hairy, self-confident man, with shining bald head. He +could not even suppress his aversion to his children. And whenever he +heard that she was about to become a mother, he experienced a feeling +of compassion for her being again infected with something bad by the +man who was so unlike all of them. + +The Ragojhinskys arrived without their children, and engaged the best +suite in the best hotel. Natalie Ivanovna immediately went to the old +home of her mother, and learning there that her brother had moved to +furnished rooms, she went to his new home. The dirty servant, meeting +her in the dark, ill-smelling corridor, which was lit up by a lamp +during the day, announced that the Prince was away. + +Desiring to leave a note, Natalie Ivanovna was shown into his +apartments. She closely examined the two small rooms. She noticed in +every corner the familiar cleanliness and order, and she was struck by +the modesty of the appointments. On the writing table she saw a +familiar paper-press, with the bronze figure of a dog, neatly arranged +portfolios, papers, volumes of the Criminal Code and an English book +of Henry George, and a French one by Tard, between the leaves of which +was an ivory paper knife. + +She left a note asking him to call on her the same evening, and, +shaking her head in wonder at what she had seen, returned to her +hotel. + +There were two questions relating to her brother that interested +Natalie Ivanovna--his marriage to Katiousha, of which she had heard in +her city, where it was a matter of common gossip, and the distribution +by him of his land to the peasants, upon which some people looked as +something political and dangerous. From one point of view, she rather +liked the idea of his marrying Katiousha. She admired his resolution, +seeing in it herself and him as they had been before her marriage. At +the same time, she was horror-stricken at the thought that her brother +was to marry such an awful woman. The latter feeling was the stronger, +and she decided to dissuade him from marrying her, although she knew +how hard that would be. + +The other affair, that of his parting with his land, she did not take +so close to heart, but her husband was indignant at such folly, and +demanded that she influence her brother to abandon the attempt. +Ignatius Nikiforovitch said that it was the height of inconsistency, +foolhardiness and pride; that such an act could only be explained, if +at all, by a desire to be odd, to have something to brag about, and to +make people talk about one's self. + +"What sense is there in giving the land to the peasants and making +them pay rent to themselves?" he said. "If his mind was set on doing +it, he could sell them the land through the bank. There would be some +sense in that. Taking all in all, his act is very eccentric," said +Ignatius Nikiforovitch, already considering the necessity of a +guardianship, and he demanded that his wife should seriously speak to +her brother of this, his strange intention. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +In the evening Nekhludoff went to his sister. Ignatius Nikiforovitch +was resting in another room, and Natalie Ivanovna alone met him. She +wore a tight-fitting black silk dress, with a knot of red ribbon, and +her hair was done up according to the latest fashion. She was +evidently making herself look young for her husband. Seeing her +brother, she quickly rose from the divan, and, rustling with her silk +skirt, she went out to meet him. They kissed and, smiling, looked at +each other. There was an exchange of those mysterious, significant +glances in which everything was truth; then followed an exchange of +words in which that truth was lacking. They had not met since the +death of their mother. + +"You have grown stout and young," he said. + +Her lips contracted with pleasure. + +"And you have grown thin." + +"Well, how is Ignatius Nikiforovitch?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"He is resting. He has not slept all night." + +A great deal should have been said here, but their words said nothing, +and their glances said that that which interested them most was left +unsaid. + +"I have been at your lodging." + +"Yes, I know it. I have moved from the house. I am so lonely and +weary. I do not need any of those things, so you take them--the +furniture--everything." + +"Yes, Agrippina Petrovna told me. I have been there. I thank you very +much. But----" + +At that moment the servant brought in a silver tea service. Natalie +Ivanovna busied herself with making the tea. Nekhludoff was silent. + +"Well, Dimitri, I know everything," Natalie said, resolutely, glancing +at him. + +"I am very glad that you know." + +"Do you think it possible to reform her after such a life?" + +He was sitting erect on a small chair, attentively listening to her, +prepared to answer satisfactorily her every question. He was still in +that frame of mind which, after his last meeting with Maslova, filled +his soul with tranquil happiness and love for all mankind. + +"It is not her that I intend to reform, but myself," he answered. + +Natalie Ivanovna sighed. + +"There are other means besides marriage." + +"And I think that that is the best. Besides, that will bring me into +that world in which I can be useful." + +"I do not think," said Natalie Ivanovna, "that you could be happy." + +"It is not a question of my happiness." + +"Of course; but if she possesses a heart, she cannot be happy--she +cannot even desire it." + +"She does not." + +"I understand, but life--demands something different." + +"Life only demands that we do what is right," said Nekhludoff, looking +at her face, still beautiful, although covered with fine wrinkles +around the eyes and mouth. + +"Poor dear! How she has changed!" thought Nekhludoff, recalling +Natalie as she had been before her marriage, and a tender feeling, +woven of countless recollections of their childhood, rose in his +breast toward her. + +At that moment Ignatius Nikiforovitch, as usual holding his head high +and projecting his broad chest, entered the room, with shining +eye-glasses, bald head and black beard. + +"How do you do? How do you do?" he greeted Nekhludoff, unnaturally +accentuating his words. + +They pressed each other's hand, and Ignatius Nikiforovitch lowered +himself into an arm-chair. + +"Am I disturbing you?" + +"No, I do not conceal anything I say or do from anybody." + +As soon as Nekhludoff saw that face, those hairy hands and heard that +patronizing tone, his gentle disposition immediately disappeared. + +"Yes, we have been speaking about his intention," said Natalie +Ivanovna. "Shall I pour out some tea for you?" she added, taking the +tea-pot. + +"Yes, if you please. What intention do you refer to?" + +"My intention of going to Siberia with that party of convicts, among +whom there is a woman I have wronged," said Nekhludoff. + +"I heard that you intended more than that." + +"Yes, and marry her, if she only desires it." + +"I see! And may I ask you to explain your motives, if it is not +unpleasant to you? I do not understand them." + +"My motives are that that woman--that the first step on her downward +career----" Nekhludoff became angry because he could not find the proper +expression. "My motives are that I am guilty, while she is punished." + +"If she is punished, then she is also, probably, guilty." + +"She is perfectly innocent." + +And, with unnecessary agitation, Nekhludoff related the whole case. + +"Yes, that was an omission by the presiding justice. But in such cases +there is the Senate." + +"The Senate sustained the verdict." + +"Ah, then there were no grounds of appeal," said Ignatius +Nikiforovitch, evidently sharing the well-known opinion that truth is +the product of court proceedings. "The Senate cannot go into the +merits of a case. But if there is really a judicial error, a petition +should be made to the Emperor." + +"That was done, but there is no chance of success. Inquiries will be +made at the Ministry, which will refer them to the Senate, and the +Senate will repeat its decision, and, as usual, the innocent will be +punished." + +"In the first place, the Ministry will not refer to the Senate," and +Ignatius Nikiforovitch smiled condescendingly, "but will call for all +the documents in the case, and, if it finds an error, will so decide. +In the second place, an innocent person is never, or, at least, very +seldom punished. Only the guilty is punished." + +"And I am convinced that the contrary is true," said Nekhludoff, with +an unkind feeling toward his brother-in-law. "I am convinced that the +majority of the people convicted by courts are innocent." + +"How so?" + +"They are innocent in the ordinary sense of the word, as that woman +was innocent of poisoning; as that peasant is innocent of the murder +which he has not committed; as that mother and son are innocent of the +arson which was committed by the owner himself, and for which they +came near being convicted." + +"Of course, there always have been and always will be judicial errors. +Human institutions cannot be perfect." + +"And, then, a large part of the innocent, because they have been +brought up amid certain conditions, do not consider the acts committed +by them criminal." + +"Pardon me; that is unfair. Every thief knows that stealing is wrong; +that theft is immoral," Ignatius Nikiforovitch said, with the calm, +self-confident, and, at the same time, somewhat contemptuous, smile +which particularly provoked Nekhludoff. + +"No, he does not know. He is told not to steal, but he sees and knows +that the employers steal his labor, keep back his pay, and that the +officials are constantly robbing him." + +"That is anarchism," Ignatius calmly defined the meaning of his +brother-in-law's words. + +"I do not know what it is, but I am speaking of facts," Nekhludoff +continued. "He knows that the officials are robbing him. He knows that +we, the landlords, own the land which ought to be common property, and +when he gathers some twigs for his oven we send him to jail and try to +convince him that he is a thief." + +"I do not understand, and if I do, I cannot agree with you. The land +cannot be nobody's property. If you divide it," Ignatius Nikiforovitch +began, being fully convinced that Nekhludoff was a socialist, and that +the theory of socialism demands that all the land should be divided +equally; that such division is foolish, and that he can easily refute +it. "If you should divide the land to-day, giving each inhabitant an +equal share, to-morrow it will again find its way into the hands of +the more industrious and able among them----" + +"Nobody even thinks of dividing the land into equal shares. There +ought to be no property in land, and it ought not to be the subject of +purchase and sale or renting." + +"The right of property is a natural right. Without property right +there would be no interest in cultivating the land. Destroy property +right and we will return to the condition of the savage," +authoritatively said Ignatius Nikiforovitch. + +"On the contrary, only then will land not lie idle, as it is now." + +"But, Dimitri Ivanovich, it is perfect madness! Is it possible in our +time to destroy property in land? I know it is your old hobby. But +permit me to tell you plainly----" Ignatius Nikiforovitch turned pale +and his voice trembled. The question was evidently of particular +concern to him. "I would advise you to consider that question well +before attempting its practical solution." + +"You are speaking of my personal affairs?" + +"Yes. I assume that we are all placed in a certain position, and must +assume the duties that result from that position, must support those +conditions of existence into which we were born, which we have +inherited from our forefathers, and which we must hand over to our +posterity." + +"I consider it my duty----" + +"Excuse me," continued Ignatius Nikiforovitch, who would not be +interrupted. "I am not speaking of myself and my children. The fortune +of my children is secure, and I earn enough to live in easy +circumstances, and, therefore, my protest against your, permit me to +say, ill-considered actions is not based on personal interest, but on +principle. And I would advise you to give it a little more thought, to +read----" + +"You had better let me decide my own affairs. I think I know what to +read and what not to read," said Nekhludoff, turning pale, and, +feeling that he could not control himself, became silent and began to +drink his tea. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +"Well, how are the children?" Nekhludoff asked his sister, having +calmed down. + +Thus the unpleasant conversation was changed. Natalie became calm and +talked about her children. She would not speak, however, about those +things which only her brother understood in the presence of her +husband, and in order to continue the conversation she began to talk +of the latest news, the killing of Kanesky in the duel. + +Ignatius Nikiforovitch expressed his disapproval of the condition of +things which excluded the killing in a duel from the category of +crimes. + +His remark called forth Nekhludoff's reply, and a hot discussion +followed on the same subject, neither expressing fully his opinion, +and in the end they were again at loggerheads. + +Ignatius Nikiforovitch felt that Nekhludoff condemned him, hating all +his activity, and he wished to prove the injustice of his reasoning. +Nekhludoff, on the other hand, to say nothing of the vexation caused +him by his brother-in-law's interference in his affairs (in the depth +of his soul he felt that his brother-in-law, his sister and their +children, as heirs, had the right to do so), was indignant at the calm +and confident manner of that narrow-minded man who continued to +consider legal and just that which to Nekhludoff was undoubtedly +foolish. This self-confidence irritated him. + +"What should the court do?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"Sentence one of the duelists, as it would a common murderer, to hard +labor." + +Nekhludoff's hands again turned cold, and he continued with warmth: + +"Well, what would be then?" + +"Justice would be done." + +"As if the aim of courts was to do justice!" said Nekhludoff. + +"What else?" + +"Their aim is to support class interests. Courts, according to my +idea, are only instruments for the perpetuation of conditions +profitable to our class." + +"That is an entirely new view," said Ignatius Nikiforovitch, smiling +calmly. "Usually somewhat different aims are ascribed to courts." + +"In theory, but not in practice, as I have learned. The only aim of +the courts is to preserve the existing state of things, and for this +reason they persecute and kill all those who are above the common +level and who wish to raise it as well as those who are below it." + +"I cannot agree with the view that criminals are executed because they +are above the level of the average. For the most part they are the +excrescence of society, just as perverted, though in a different +manner, as are those criminal types whom you consider below the level +of the average." + +"And I know people who are far above their judges." + +But Ignatius Nikiforovitch, not accustomed to being interrupted when +speaking, did not listen to Nekhludoff, which was particularly +irritating to the latter, and continued to talk while Nekhludoff was +talking. + +"I cannot agree with you that the aim of courts is to support the +existing order of things. The courts have their aims: either the +correction----" + +"Prisons are great places for correction," Nekhludoff put in. + +"Or the removal," persistently continued Ignatius Nikiforovitch, "of +those depraved and savage people who threaten the existence of +society." + +"That is just where the trouble is. Courts can do neither the one nor +the other. Society has no means of doing it." + +"How is that? I don't understand----" asked Ignatius Nikiforovitch, with +a forced smile. + +"I mean to say that there are only two sensible modes of +punishment--those that have been used in olden times: corporal +punishment and capital punishment. But with the advance of +civilization they have gone out of existence." + +"That is both new and surprising to hear from you." + +"Yes, there is sense in inflicting pain on a man that he might not +repeat that for which the pain was inflicted; and it is perfectly +sensible to cut the head off a harmful and dangerous member of +society. But what sense is there in imprisoning a man, who is depraved +by idleness and bad example, and keeping him in secure and compulsory +idleness in the society of the most depraved people? Or to transport +him, for some reason, at an expense to the government of five hundred +roubles, from the District of Tula to the District of Irkutsk, or from +Kursk----" + +"But people seem to fear these journeys at government expense. And +were it not for these journeys, we would not be sitting here as we are +sitting now." + +"Prisons cannot secure our safety, because people are not imprisoned +for life, but are released. On the contrary, these institutions are +the greatest breeders of vice and corruption--_i. e._, they increase +the danger." + +"You mean to say that the penitentiary system ought to be perfected?" + +"It cannot be perfected. Perfected prisons would cost more than is +spent on popular education and would be a new burden on the populace." + +"But the deficiencies of the penitentiary system do not invalidate the +judicial system," Ignatius Nikiforovitch again continued, without +listening to his brother-in-law. + +"These deficiencies cannot be corrected," said Nekhludoff, raising +his voice. + +"What then? Would you kill? Or, as a certain statesman suggested, +pluck out their eyes?" said Ignatius Nikiforovitch, smiling +triumphantly. + +"Yes; that would be cruel, but expedient. What we are doing now is +both cruel and inexpedient." + +"And I am taking part in it," said Ignatius Nikiforovitch, paling. + +"That is your business. But I do not understand it." + +"I think there are many things you do not understand," said Ignatius +Nikiforovitch, with a quiver in his voice. + +"I saw a public prosecutor in court trying his utmost to convict an +unfortunate boy, who could only arouse compassion in any unperverted +man----" + +"If I thought so, I should give up my position," said Ignatius +Nikiforovitch, rising. + +Nekhludoff noticed a peculiar glitter under his brother-in-law's +eye-glasses. "Can it be tears?" thought Nekhludoff. They really were +tears. Ignatius Nikiforovitch was offended. Going toward the window, +he drew a handkerchief from his pocket, coughed, and began to wipe his +eye-glasses, and, removing them, he also wiped his eyes. Returning to +the couch, Ignatius Nikiforovitch lit a cigar and spoke no more. +Nekhludoff was pained and ashamed at the grief that he had caused his +brother-in-law and sister, especially as he was leaving the next day +and would not see them again. In great agitation he took leave of them +and departed. + +"It is quite possible that what I said was true. At any rate, he did +not refute me. But it was wrong to speak that way. Little have I +changed if I could insult him and grieve poor Natalie," he thought. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +The party of convicts, which included Maslova, was to leave on the +three o'clock train, and in order to see them coming out of the prison +and follow them to the railroad station Nekhludoff decided to get to +the prison before twelve. + +While packing his clothes and papers, Nekhludoff came across his +diary and began to read the entry he had made before leaving for St. +Petersburg. "Katiusha does not desire my sacrifice, but is willing to +sacrifice herself," it ran. "She has conquered, and I have conquered. +I am rejoicing at that inner change which she seems to me to be +undergoing. I fear to believe it, but it appears to me that she is +awakening." Immediately after this was the following entry: "I have +lived through a very painful and very joyous experience. I was told +that she had misbehaved in the hospital. It was very painful to hear +it. Did not think it would so affect me. Have spoken to her with +contempt and hatred, but suddenly remembered how often I myself have +been guilty--am even now, although only in thought, of that for which +I hated her, and suddenly I was seized with disgust for myself and +pity for her, and I became very joyful. If we would only see in time +the beam in our own eye, how much kinder we would be." Then he made +the following entry for the day: "Have seen Katiusha, and, because of +my self-content, was unkind and angry, and departed with a feeling of +oppression. But what can I do? A new life begins to-morrow. Farewell +to the old life! My mind is filled with numberless impressions, but I +cannot yet reduce them to order." + +On awakening the following morning, Nekhludoff's first feeling was one +of sorrow for the unpleasant incident with his brother-in-law. + +"I must go to see them," he thought, "and smooth it over." + +But, looking at the clock, he saw that there was no time left, and +that he must hasten to the prison to see the departure of the +convicts. Hastily packing up his things and sending them to the depot, +Nekhludoff hired a trap and drove to the prison. + + * * * * * + +The hot July days had set in. The stones of the street, the houses, +and the tins of the roofs, failing to cool off during the suffocating +night, exhaled their warmth into the hot, still air. There was no +breeze, and such as rose every now and then was laden with dust and +the stench of oil paint. The few people that were on the streets +sought shelter in the shade of the houses. Only sun-burnt +street-pavers in bast shoes were sitting in the middle of the street, +setting boulders into the hot sand; gloomy policemen in unstarched +blouses and carrying revolvers attached to yellow cords, were lazily +shuffling about, and tram-cars with drawn blinds on the sides exposed +to the sun, and drawn by white-hooded horses, were running up and down +the street. + +When Nekhludoff arrived at the prison, the formal delivery and +acceptance of the departing convicts, which began at four in the +morning, were still going on. The party consisted of six hundred and +twenty-three men and sixty-four women; all had to be counted, the weak +and sick had to be separated, and they were to be delivered to the +convoy. The new inspector, two assistants, a physician, his assistant, +the officer of the convoy and a clerk were sitting in the shade around +a table with papers and documents, calling and examining each convict +and making entries in their books. + +One-half of the table was already exposed to the sun. It was getting +warm and close from want of air, and from the breathing of the +convicts standing near by. + +"Will there ever be an end?" said a tall, stout, red-faced captain of +the convoy, incessantly smoking a cigarette and blowing the smoke +through the moustache which covered his mouth. "I am exhausted. Where +have you taken so many? How many more are there?" + +The clerk consulted the books. + +"Twenty-four men and the women." + +"Why are you standing there? Come forward!" shouted the captain to the +crowding convicts. + +The convicts had already been standing three hours in a broiling sun, +waiting their turn. + +All this was taking place in the court-yard of the prison, while +without the prison stood the usual armed soldier, about two dozen +trucks for the baggage, and the infirm convicts, and on the corner a +crowd of relatives and friends of the convicts, waiting for a chance +to see the exiles as they emerged from the prison, and, if possible, +to have a last few words with them, or deliver some things they had +brought for them. Nekhludoff joined this crowd. + +He stood there about an hour. At the end of the hour, from behind the +gates came the clatter of chains, the tramping of feet, voices of +command, coughing and the low conversation of a large crowd. This +lasted about five minutes, during which time prison officers flitted +in and out through the wicket. Finally there was heard a sharp +command. + +The gates were noisily flung open, the clatter of the chains became +more distinct, and a detachment of guardsmen in white blouses and +shouldering guns marched forth and arranged themselves, evidently as a +customary manoeuvre, in a large semi-circle before the gates. Again +a command was heard, and the hard-labor convicts, in pairs, began to +pour out. With pancake-shaped caps on their shaved heads, and sacks on +their shoulders, they dragged their fettered legs, holding up the +sacks with one hand and waving the other. First came the men convicts, +all in gray trousers and long coats with diamond aces on their backs. +All of them--young, old, slim, stout, pale, and red-faced, +dark-haired, moustached, bearded and beardless, Russians, Tartars, +Jews--came, clanging their chains and briskly waving their hands as +though going on a long journey; but after making about ten steps they +stopped and humbly arranged themselves in rows of four. Immediately +behind these came another contingent, also with shaved heads and +similarly dressed, without leg-fetters, but handcuffed to each other. +These were exiles. They walked as briskly as the others, stopped, and +formed in rows of four. Then came the women in the same order, in gray +coats and 'kerchiefs, those sentenced to hard labor coming first; then +the exiles, and finally those voluntarily following their husbands, in +their native costumes. Some of the women carried infants under the +skirts of their coats. + +Children--boys and girls--followed them on foot, hanging on to the +skirts of their mothers. The men stood silently, coughing now and +then, or exchanging remarks, while the women carried on incessant +conversation. Nekhludoff thought that he saw Maslova as she was coming +out, but she was soon lost in the large crowd, and he only saw a lot +of gray creatures almost deprived of all womanly features, with their +children and sacks, grouping themselves behind the men. + +Although the convicts had been counted within the walls of the prison, +the guard began to count them over again. This counting took a long +time, because the convicts, moving from one place to another, confused +the count of the officers. The officers cursed and pushed the humbly +but angrily compliant convicts and counted them again. When the +counting was finally over, the officer of the guard gave some command, +and suddenly all became confusion in the crowd. Infirm men, women and +children hastened to the trucks, on which they first placed their +sacks, then climbed in themselves, the infants crying in their +mothers' arms, the children quarreling about the places, the men +looking gloomy and despondent. + +Some of the convicts, removing their caps, approached the officer and +made some request. As Nekhludoff afterward learned, they were asking +to be taken on the wagons. The guard officer, without looking at the +applicants, silently inhaled the smoke of his cigarette, then suddenly +swung his short hand at one of the convicts that approached him, who +dodged and sprang back. + +"I will elevate you to the nobility with a rope! You can walk!" +shouted the officer. + +Only a tall, staggering old man in irons was permitted to ride on a +wagon. The old man removed his cap, and making the sign of the cross, +dragged himself to the wagon; but his fettered legs prevented his +climbing up until an old woman, sitting on the wagon, took his hand +and helped him in. + +When all the wagons were loaded with sacks and those that were +permitted to ride, the guard officer uncovered his bald head, wiped +with a handkerchief his pate, forehead and red, stout neck, made the +sign of the cross, and gave command to proceed. + +There was a clatter of weapons; the convicts, removing their caps, +began to make the sign of the cross, some with their left hands; the +escorting crowd shouted something, the convicts shouted in answer; a +great wailing arose among the women, and the party, surrounded by +soldiers in white blouses moved forward, raising a cloud of dust with +their fettered feet. They marched in the order in which they formed at +the prison gates, in rows of four, preceded by a detachment of +soldiers. The rear was brought up by the wagons loaded with the sacks +and the infirm. On top of one of the wagons, above all the others, sat +a woman, wrapped up in her coat and sobbing incessantly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +When Nekhludoff reached the railroad station the prisoners were +already seated in the cars, behind grated windows. There were a few +people on the platform, come to see their departing relatives, but +they were not allowed to come near the cars. The guards were greatly +troubled this day. On the way from the prison to the station five men +had died from sunstroke. Three of them had been taken to the nearest +police station from the street, while two were stricken at the +railroad station.[F] They were troubled not because five men had died +while under their guard. That did not bother them; but they were +chiefly concerned with doing all that the law required them to do +under the circumstances--to make proper transfer of the dead, their +papers and belongings, and to exclude them from the list of those that +were to be transferred to Nijhni, which was very troublesome, +especially on such a warm day. + +This it was that occupied the convoy, and this was the reason why +Nekhludoff and others were not permitted to approach the cars while +the formalities were unfinished. However, upon bribing one of the +sergeants, Nekhludoff was permitted to come near the cars, the +sergeant asking him to do his errand so that the captain would not see +him. There were eighteen cars, and all, except the one reserved for +the authorities, were literally packed with prisoners. Passing by the +windows, Nekhludoff listened to the sounds within. Everywhere he heard +the rattling of chains, bustle, and the hum of conversation, +interspersed with stupid profanity; but nowhere did he hear, as he +expected, any reference to the dead comrades. Their conversation +related more to sacks, drinking-water, and the choice of seats. +Looking into the window of one of the cars, Nekhludoff saw some +guardsmen removing the handcuffs from the wrists of the prisoners. The +prisoners stretched out their hands, while one of the guards with a +key opened the locks of the handcuffs, which were collected by +another. When Nekhludoff reached the second car occupied by the women +he heard a woman's moan, "Oh, heavens! Oh, heavens!" + +Nekhludoff passed by and approached one of the windows of the third +car, pointed out to him by one of the guards. Overheated air, +impregnated with a thick odor of perspiration, assailed his nostrils, +and shrill women's voices were distinctly heard. All the benches were +occupied by flushed, perspiring women in waists and coats, loudly +conversing. His approach attracted their attention. Those sitting +nearest to the grated window became silent. Maslova, in a waist and +without headgear, was sitting near the opposite window. The smiling +Theodosia, who was sitting near Maslova, seeing Nekhludoff, pushed her +with her elbow and pointed to Nekhludoff. Maslova hurriedly rose, +threw a 'kerchief over her black hair, and, with an animated, red, +perspiring and smiling face, came near the window and placed her hands +on the grating. + +"But how warm it is!" she said, smiling joyously. + +"Did you get the things?" + +"I did, thank you." + +"Do you need anything?" asked Nekhludoff, feeling the heat issuing +from the window as from a steam bath. + +"I do not need anything. Thank you." + +"If we could only get some water," said Theodosia. + +"Yes, some water," repeated Maslova. + +"I will ask one of the guards," said Nekhludoff. "We will not meet now +until we reach Nijhni." + +"Why, are you going there?" she said, as if she did not know it, but +joyously glancing at Nekhludoff. + +"I am going on the next train." + +Maslova was silent for a few moments; then sighed deeply. + +"Is it true, master, that twelve people have died from the heat?" said +a churlish old woman in a hoarse voice. + +It was Korableva. + +"I don't know that twelve have died. I have seen two," said +Nekhludoff. + +"They say twelve. They ought to be punished for it, the devils!" + +"How is it with the women?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"Women are stronger," said another prisoner, smiling. "Only there is +one who has taken it into her head to give birth to a child. Listen to +her wailing," she said, pointing to the adjacent car, from which the +moaning proceeded. + +"You asked if anything was needed," said Maslova, endeavoring to +restrain a happy smile. "Could not that woman be taken off the train? +She suffers so. Won't you tell the authorities?" + +"Yes, I will." + +"Another thing--could you not get her to see her husband, Tarass?" she +added, pointing to the smiling Theodosia. "He is going with you, isn't +he?" + +At this point the voice of a sergeant was heard reminding Nekhludoff +that talking with the prisoners was prohibited. It was not the +sergeant who passed Nekhludoff. + +Nekhludoff walked off to find the captain, intending to see him about +the sick woman and Tarass, but for a long time could not find him, the +guards being too busy to answer his inquiries. Some were leading away +one of the convicts; others were hurrying away to buy their +provisions; still others were attending a lady who was traveling with +the captain of the convoy. + +Nekhludoff found the captain after the second bell. The captain, +wiping his thick moustache with his short hand and raising his +shoulders, was reprimanding one of the sergeants. + +"What is it you want?" he asked Nekhludoff. + +"There is a woman giving birth to a child, so I thought it would be +well----" + +"Well, let her. When the child is born we will see to it," said the +captain, passing to his car. + +The conductor came with a whistle in his hand. The third bell +sounded, and a loud wailing rose among the female prisoners and their +friends and relatives on the platform. Nekhludoff was standing beside +Tarass, and watched the cars passing before him, with the grated +windows and the shaved heads seen through them. As the one in which +Maslova was passed, he saw her standing with others at the window, +looking at him and smiling piteously. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote F: Early in the eighties five prisoners died from sunstroke +while being transferred from the Boutyr prison to the Nijhni railroad +station.--L. T.] + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +The passenger train which was to carry away Nekhludoff was to start in +two hours. Nekhludoff at first thought of utilizing these two hours in +visiting his sister, but after the impressions of the morning he felt +so excited and exhausted that he seated himself on a sofa in the +saloon for first-class passengers. But he unexpectedly felt so drowsy +that he turned on his side, placed his palm under his cheek, and +immediately fell asleep. + +He was awakened by a servant in dress-coat holding a napkin in his +hand. + +"Mister, mister, are you not Prince Nekhludoff? A lady is looking for +you." + +Nekhludoff quickly raised himself, rubbing his eyes, and the incidents +of the morning passed before his mind's eye--the procession of the +convicts, the men who had died from the heat, the grated windows of +the cars, and the women huddled behind them, one of whom was laboring +in child-birth without aid, and another piteously smiling to him from +behind the iron grating. But in reality he saw a table covered with +bottles, vases, chandeliers, and fruit stands; nimble servants +bustling around the table, and in the depth of the saloon, before the +lunch-counter, loaded with viands and fruits, the backs of passengers +leisurely eating their luncheon. + +While Nekhludoff was raising himself and shaking off the slumber, he +noticed that everybody in the saloon was curiously watching the +entrance. He turned his eyes in the same direction, and saw a +procession of people who bore an arm-chair in which was seated a lady, +her head covered with tulle. The first bearer was a lackey who seemed +familiar to Nekhludoff. The one behind was also a familiar porter, +with white crown lace around his cap. Behind the arm-chair came an +elegantly dressed maid-servant with curly hair, carrying a round +leather box and a sunshade. Further behind came the short-necked +Prince Korchagin, his shoulders thrown back; then Missy, Misha, their +cousin, and a diplomat Osten, unfamiliar to Nekhludoff, with his long +neck and prominent Adam's apple and an ever cheerful appearance. He +walked impressively, but evidently jestingly talking to the smiling +Missy. Behind them came the doctor, angrily smoking a cigarette. + +The Korchagins were moving from their estate to the Prince's sister, +whose estate was situated on the Nijhni road. + +The procession passed into the ladies' room. The old Prince, however, +seating himself at the table, immediately called over a waiter and +began to order something. Missy with Osten also stopped in the +dining-room, and were about to sit down when they saw an acquaintance +in the doorway and went to meet her. It was Natalia Ivanovna. She was +escorted by Agrippina Petrovna, and as she entered the dining-room she +looked around. At almost the same moment she noticed Missy and her +brother. She first approached Missy, only nodding her head to +Nekhludoff. But after kissing Missy she immediately turned to him. + +"At last I have found you," she said. + +After greeting his sister, Nekhludoff entered into conversation with +Missy, who told him that their house had burned down, necessitating +their removal to her aunt's. Osten began to relate a droll anecdote +anent the fire. Nekhludoff, without listening to Osten, turned to his +sister: + +"How glad I am that you came!" + +In the course of their conversation he told her how sorry he felt for +having fallen out with her husband; that he had intended to return and +confess that he was at fault, but that he knew not how her husband +would take it. + +"I spoke improperly to him, and it tortured me," he said. + +"I knew it. I was sure you didn't intend it," said his sister. "Don't +you know----" + +The tears welled up in her eyes, and she touched her brother's hand. +It was spoken tenderly; he understood her, and was affected. The +meaning of her words was that, besides her love for her husband, her +love for her brother was dear and important to her, and that any +disagreement with him caused her suffering. + +"Thank you, thank you. Oh, what I have seen to-day!" he said, suddenly +recalling the two dead convicts. "Two convicts have been killed." + +"How killed?" + +"So, simply killed. They have been brought here in this heat, and two +of them died from sunstroke." + +"Impossible! How? To-day? Just now?" + +"Yes, just now. I have seen their corpses." + +"Why were they killed? Who killed them?" asked Natalia Ivanovna. + +"Those who forcibly brought them here," said Nekhludoff excitedly, +feeling that she took the same view of this as her husband. + +"Oh, my God!" said Agrippina Petrovna, coming nearer to them. + +"Yes, we have no conception of the life these unfortunates are +leading, and it is necessary to know it," Nekhludoff added, looking at +the old Prince, who, sitting at the table with a napkin tucked under +his chin and a large glass before him, at that moment glanced at +Nekhludoff. + +"Nekhludoff," he shouted. "Won't you take sauce to cool off? It is +excellent stuff." + +Nekhludoff refused and turned away. + +"But what will you do?" continued Natalia Ivanovna. + +"I will do what I can. I do not know what, but I feel that I must do +something. And I will do what I can." + +"Yes, yes, I understand that. And what about him?" she said, smiling +and nodding in the direction of Korchagin. "Is it really all over?" + +"Yes, it is and I think without regret on either side." + +"I am very sorry. I like her. But I suppose it must be so. But why +should you bind yourself? Why are you following her?" + +"Because it is proper that I should," Nekhludoff said dryly, as +though desiring to change the subject. + +But he immediately felt ashamed of his coldness to his sister. "Why +should I not tell her what I think?" he thought; "and let Agrippina +Petrovna also know it," he said to himself, looking at the old +servant. + +The presence of Agrippina Petrovna only encouraged him to repeat his +decision to his sister. + +"You are speaking of my intention to marry Katiusha. You see, I have +decided to do it, but she firmly and decidedly refused me," he said, +and his voice trembled, as it always did when he spoke of it. "She +does not desire my sacrifice, and in her position she sacrifices very +much, and I could not accept her sacrifice, even if it were only +momentary. That is why I am following her, and I will be near her, and +will endeavor to relieve her condition as far as I am able." + +Natalia Ivanovna was silent. Agrippina Petrovna looked inquiringly at +Natalia Ivanovna, shaking her head. At that moment the procession +started again from the ladies' room. The same handsome Phillip and the +porter were bearing the Princess. She stopped the bearers, beckoned +Nekhludoff to her side, and in a piteously languid manner extended her +white, ring-bedecked hand, with horror anticipating the hard pressure +of his. + +"_Epouvantable!_" she said of the heat. "It is unbearable. _Ce climat +me tue._" And having said a few words of the horrors of the Russian +climate, and invited Nekhludoff to visit them, she gave a sign to the +bearers. "Don't fail to come, now," she added, turning her long face +to Nekhludoff. + +Nekhludoff went out on the platform. The procession turned to the +right, toward the first-class coaches. Nekhludoff, with a porter who +carried his baggage, and Tarass, with his bags, turned to the left. + +"That is my comrade," Nekhludoff said to his sister, pointing to +Tarass, whose story he had told her before. + +"What, are you taking the third class?" asked Natalia Ivanovna, when +Nekhludoff stopped before a third-class car and the porter, with +Tarass, entered it. + +"Yes, I will have it more convenient then. Tarass is with me. Another +thing," he added. "I have not yet given the Kusminskoie land to the +peasants. So that, in case of my death, your children will inherit +it." + +"Dmitri, don't talk that way," said Natalia Ivanovna. + +"And if I do give it away, then all I have to tell you is that the +remainder will be theirs, for I shall hardly marry. And if I do, there +will be no children--so that----" + +"Dmitri, please stop it," said Natalia Ivanovna; but Nekhludoff saw +that she was glad to hear what he was saying. + +The time for parting had come. The conductors were closing the doors, +inviting the passengers to take seats, others to leave the cars. + +Nekhludoff entered the heated and ill-smelling car and immediately +appeared on its platform. Natalia Ivanovna was standing opposite, and +evidently wished to say something, but could not find words. She could +not say "_ecrivez_," because they had long been ridiculing the +customary phrase of parting friends. The conversation about financial +affairs and the inheritance at once destroyed the tender relations +they had resumed. They now felt themselves estranged from each other. +So that Natalia Ivanovna was glad when the train began to move and she +could say, with a smile: "Well, Dmitri, good-by!" As soon as the train +left she began to think how to tell her husband of her conversation +with her brother, and her face became grave and worried. + +And though Nekhludoff entertained the best sentiments toward his +sister, and he concealed nothing from her, he now felt estranged from +her, and was glad to be rid of her. He felt that the Natasha of old +was no more; that there was only a slave of an unpleasant, dark, hairy +man with whom he had nothing in common. He plainly saw this, because +her face became illumined with peculiar animation only when he spoke +of that which interested her husband--of the distribution of the land +among the peasants, and of the inheritance. This made him sad. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +The heat in the large car of the third class, due to its exposure to +the scorching sun rays and the large crowd within, was so suffocating +that Nekhludoff remained on the platform. But there was no relief even +there, and he drew in long breaths when the train rolled out beyond +the houses and the movement of the train created a draught. "Yes, +killed," he repeated to himself. And to his imagination appeared with +unusual vividness the beautiful face of the second dead convict, with +a smile on his lips, the forbidding expression of his forehead, and +the small, strong ear under the shaved, bluish scalp. "And the worst +part of it is that he was killed, and no one knows who killed him. Yet +he was killed. He was forwarded, like the others, at the order of +Maslenikoff. Maslenikoff probably signed the usual order with his +foolish flourish, on a printed letter-head, and, of course, does not +consider himself guilty. The prison physician, who inspected the +convicts, has still less reason for considering himself guilty. He +carefully fulfilled his duties, separated the weak ones, and could not +possibly foresee either the terrible heat, or that they would be taken +away so late and in such a crowd. The inspector? But the inspector +only carried out the order that on such a day so many men and women +prisoners should be sent away. No more guilty was the officer of the +convoy, whose duty consisted in receiving so many people at such a +place and delivering them at another place. He led the party in the +usual way, according to instructions, and could not possibly foresee +that such strong men, like the two whom Nekhludoff had seen, would +succumb and die. No one was guilty, and yet the men were killed by +these very people who were innocent of their death. + +"All this happened," thought Nekhludoff, "because all those +people--the governor, inspector and the other officers--saw before +them, not human beings and their duties toward them, but the service +and its requirements. Therein lies the difficulty." + +In his meditation Nekhludoff did not notice how the weather had +changed. The sun had hidden behind a low strip of cloud, and from the +southern sky a light-gray mass, from which a slanting rain was already +pouring in the distance over the fields and forests, was coming on. +Now and then a flash of lightning rent the clouds, and the rattle of +the train mingled with the rattle of thunder. The clouds came nearer +and nearer, the slanting drops of rain, driven by the wind, pattered +on the platform of the car and stained Nekhludoff's overcoat. He moved +to the other side, and drawing in the fresh, humid air and the odor of +the wheat coming from the parched ground, he looked on the passing +gardens, forests; the rye fields just turning yellow, the emerald +streaks of oats, and the furrows of the dark-green, flowering potato. +Everything looked as if covered with varnish: the green and yellow +colors became brighter; the black became blacker. + +"More, more," said Nekhludoff, rejoicing at the reviving fields and +gardens under the abundant rain. + +The heavy rain did not last long. The clouds partly dissipated, and +the last fine shower fell straight on the wet ground. The sun came +forth again, the earth brightened, and a low but brilliant violet +tinged rainbow, broken at one end, appeared in the eastern horizon. + +"What was I thinking of?" Nekhludoff asked himself, when all these +changes of nature came to an end and the train descended into a vale. +"Yes, I was thinking that all those people--the inspector, the guard +and all those servants, for the most part gentle, kind people--have +become wicked." + +He recalled the indifference of Maslenikoff when he told the latter of +what was going on in the prison, of the severity of the inspector, the +cruelty of the sergeant who refused the use of the wagons to the weak +convicts and paid no attention to the suffering of the woman in +child-birth. All those people were evidently proof against the feeling +of sympathy, "as is this paved ground against rain," he thought, +looking at the incline paved with multi-colored stone, from which the +water streamed off. "May be it is necessary to lay the stones on the +incline, but it is sad to see the soil deprived of vegetation when it +could be made to grow grain, grass, shrubs and trees like those seen +on those heights. It is the same with people," thought Nekhludoff. +"The whole trouble lies in that people think that there are conditions +excluding the necessity of love in their intercourse with man, but +such conditions do not exist. Things may be treated without love; one +may chop wood, make bricks, forge iron without love, but one can no +more deal with people without love than one can handle bees without +care. The nature of bees is such that if you handle them carelessly +you will harm them as well as yourself. It is the same with people. +And it cannot be different, because mutual love is the basic law of +human life. True, man cannot compel himself to love, as he can compel +himself to work, but it does not follow from this that in his dealings +with men he can leave love out of consideration, especially if he +wants something from them. If you feel no love for people, then keep +away from them," Nekhludoff said to himself. "Occupy yourself with +things, yourself--anything; only keep away from people. As it is +harmful to eat except when one is hungry, so is it harmful to have +intercourse with people when one does not love them. If one permits +himself to deal with people without having any love for them, as I did +yesterday with my brother-in-law, there is no limit to the cruelty and +brutality one is liable to display toward others, as I have seen +to-day, and there is no limit to one's own suffering, as I have +learned from all the experiences of my own life. Yes, yes, that is +so," thought Nekhludoff, experiencing the double pleasure of a cool +breeze after the intolerable heat, and the consciousness of having +reached the highest degree of lucidity in the question which had so +long occupied him. + + + + +PART THIRD. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +The party of convicts to which Maslova belonged had gone about +thirty-five hundred miles. It was not until Perm was reached that +Nekhludoff succeeded in obtaining Maslova's transfer to the contingent +of politicals, as he was advised to do by Bogodukhovskaia, who was +among them. + +The journey to Perm was very burdensome to Maslova, both physically +and morally--physically because of the crowded condition of their +quarters, the uncleanliness and disgusting insects, which gave her no +rest; morally because of the equally loathsome men who, though they +changed at every stopping place, were like the insects, always +insolent, intrusive and gave her little rest. The cynicism prevailing +among the convicts and their overseers was such that every woman, +especially the young women, had to be on the alert. Maslova was +particularly subject to these attacks because of her attractive looks +and her well-known past. This condition of constant dread and struggle +was very burdensome to her. The firm repulse with which she met the +impertinent advances of the men was taken by them as an insult and +exasperated them. Her condition in this respect was somewhat relieved +by the presence of Theodosia and Tarass, who, learning that his wife +was subjected to these insults, had himself included among the +prisoners, and riding as such from Nijhni, was able to protect her to +some extent. + +Maslova's transfer to the division of the politicals bettered her +situation in every respect. Besides the improvement in the quarters, +food and treatment, her condition was also made easier by the fact +that the persecution of the men ceased and she was no longer reminded +of her past, which she was so anxious to forget now. The principal +advantage of the transfer, however, lay in the acquaintance she made +of some people who exerted a decisive influence over her. + +At stopping places she was permitted to mingle with the politicals, +but, being a strong woman, she was compelled to walk with the other +prisoners. She thus walked from Tomsk. There were two politicals who +traveled on foot with her--Maria Pablovna Stchetinina, the same pretty +girl with the sheepish eyes who had attracted Nekhludoff's attention +when visiting Bogodukhovskaia, and one Simonson, banished to +Yakoutsk--that same shaggy man with deep-set eyes whom Nekhludoff had +noticed on the same occasion. Maria Pablovna walked, because she +yielded her place on the wagon to a pregnant woman; Simonson, because +he would not profit by class advantages. These three started on foot +with the other convicts in the early morning, the politicals following +them later in wagons. It was at the last stopping place, near a large +city, where the party was handed over to another convoy officer. + +It was a chill September morning. Snow and rain fell alternately +between cold blasts of wind. All the prisoners--400 men and 50 +women--were already in the court-yard, some crowding around the chief +officer of the convoy, who was paying out money to the overseers for +the day's rations; others were buying food of the hucksters who had +been admitted into the court-yard. There were a din of prisoners' +voices counting money and the shrill conversation of the hucksters. + +Katiousha and Maria Pablovna, both in boots and short fur coats and +girdled with 'kerchiefs, came into the court-yard from the house and +walked toward the hucksters, who were sitting under the northern wall +and calling out their wares--fresh meat-pies, fish, boiled shred +paste, buckwheat mush, meat, eggs, milk; one woman even offered +roasted pig. + +Simonson, in rubber jacket and similar galoshes, bound with whip-cord +over woolen socks (he was a vegetarian and did not use the skin of +animals), was also awaiting the departure of the party. He stood near +the entrance of the house, writing down in a note-book a thought that +occurred to him. "If," he wrote, "a bacterium were to observe and +analyze the nail of a man, it would declare him an inorganic being. +Similarly, from an observation of the earth's surface, we declare it +to be inorganic. That is wrong." + +Having bought eggs, buns, fish and fresh wheat bread, Maslova packed +them away in a bag while Maria Pablovna settled for the food, when +among the prisoners there arose a commotion. Every one became silent, +and the prisoners began to form into ranks. An officer came forth and +gave final orders. + +Everything proceeded as usual--the prisoners were counted over, the +chains were examined and men were handcuffed in pairs. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +After six years of luxurious and pampered life in the city and two +months in prison among the politicals, her present life, +notwithstanding the hard conditions, seemed to Katiousha very +satisfactory. The journeys of fifteen or twenty miles on foot between +stopping places, the food and day's rest after two days' tramp, +strengthened her physically, while her association with her new +comrades opened up to her new phases of life of which she had formerly +no conception. + +She was charmed with all her new comrades. But above all, with Maria +Pablovna--nay, she even came to love her with a respectful and +exulting love. She was struck by the fact that a beautiful girl of a +rich and noble family, and speaking three languages, should conduct +herself like a common workingwoman, distribute everything sent her by +her rich brother, dress herself not only simply, but poorly, and pay +no attention to her appearance. This entire absence of coquetry +surprised and completely captivated Maslova. She saw that Maria +Pablovna knew, and that it even pleased her to know, that she was +pretty, but that so far from rejoicing at the impression she was +making on the men, she only feared it, and rather looked at love with +disgust and dread. If her male comrades, who knew her, felt any +attraction toward her they never showed it. But strangers often +attempted familiarities with her, and in such cases her great physical +strength stood her in good stead. "Once," she laughingly related, "I +was approached by a stranger on the street, whom I could not get rid +of. I then gave him such a shaking up that he ran away in fright." + +She also said that from childhood she had felt an aversion for the +life of the gentry, but loved the common folks, and was often chidden +for staying in the servants' quarters, the kitchen and the stable, +instead of the parlor. + +"But among the cooks and drivers I was always cheerful, while our +ladies and gentlemen used to worry me. Afterward, when I began to +understand, I saw that we were leading a wicked life. I had no mother, +and I did not like my father. At nineteen I left the house with a girl +friend and went to work in a factory," she said. + +From the factory she went to the country, then returned to the city, +where she was arrested and sentenced to hard labor. Maria Pablovna +never related it herself, but Katiousha learned from others that she +was sentenced to hard labor because she assumed the guilt of another. + +Since Katiousha came to know her she saw that Maria Pablovna, +everywhere and under all circumstances, never thought of herself, but +was always occupied in helping some one else. One of her present +comrades, jesting, said of her that she had given herself up to the +sport of charity. And that was true. Like a sportsman looking for +game, her entire activity consisted in finding occasion for serving +others. And this sport became a habit with her, her life's aim. And +she did it so naturally that all those that knew her ceased to +appreciate it, and demanded it as by right. + +When Maslova entered their ranks, Maria Pablovna felt a disgust and +loathing for her. Katiousha noticed it. But she also noticed afterward +that Maria Pablovna, making some effort, became particularly kind and +gentle toward her. The kindness and gentleness of such an uncommon +person so affected Maslova that she gave herself up to her with her +whole soul, unconsciously acquired her glance and involuntarily +imitated her in everything. + +They were also drawn together by that disgust which both felt toward +physical love. The one hated it, because she had experienced all the +horror of it; the other, because not having experienced it, she looked +upon it as something strange and at the same time disgusting and +offensive to human dignity. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +The influence exerted by Maria Pablovna over Katiousha was due to the +fact that Katiousha loved Maria Pablovna. There was another +influence--that of Simonson, and that was due to the fact that +Simonson loved Katiousha. + +Simonson decided everything by the light of his reason, and having +once decided upon a thing, he never swerved. While yet a student he +made up his mind that the wealth of his father, who was an officer of +the Commissary Department, was dishonestly accumulated. He then +declared to him that his wealth ought to be returned to the people. +And when he was reprimanded he left the house and refused to avail +himself of his father's means. Having come to the conclusion that all +evil can be traced to the people's ignorance, he joined the Democrats, +on leaving the university, and obtaining the position of village +teacher, he boldly preached before his pupils and the peasants that +which he considered to be just, and denounced that which he considered +unjust and false. + +He was arrested and prosecuted. + +During the trial he decided that the court had no right to judge him, +and said so. The judges disagreeing with him and proceeding with the +trial, he concluded not to answer their questions and remained silent. +He was sentenced to exile in the Government of Archangel. There he +formulated a religious creed defining all his actions. According to +this religious teaching nothing in the world is dead, there is life in +everything; all those things which we consider dead, inorganic, are +but parts of a huge organic body which we cannot embrace, and that, as +a part of a huge organism, man's aim should be to conserve the life of +that organism and the lives of all its parts. He therefore considered +it a crime to destroy life; was against war, executions, the killing +in any manner not only of human beings, but of animals. He also had +his theory of marriage, according to which the breeding of people was +man's lower function, his higher function consisting in conserving +life already existing. He found confirmation of this idea in the +existence of phagocites in the blood. Bachelors, according to him, +were the same phagocites whose function was to help the weak, sickly +parts of the organism. And true to his convictions, he had been +performing this function since he became convinced of the truth of the +theory, although as a youth he had led a different life. He called +himself, as well as Maria Pablovna, a phagocite of the world. + +His love for Katiousha did not violate this theory, since it was +purely platonic. He assumed that such love not only did not prevent +his phagocite activity, but aided it. + +And it was this man who, falling in love with Katiousha, had a +decisive influence over her. With the instincts of a woman, Maslova +soon discovered it, and the consciousness that she could arouse the +feeling of love in such a remarkable man raised her in her own +estimation. Nekhludoff offered to marry her out of magnanimity, and +the obligation for the past, but Simonson loved her as she was now, +and loved her simply because he loved her. She felt, besides, that he +considered her an unusual woman, distinguished from all other women, +and possessing high moral qualities. She did not know exactly what +those qualities were, but, at all events, not to deceive him, she +endeavored with all her power to call forth her best qualities and, +necessarily, be as good as she could be. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Nekhludoff managed to see Maslova only twice between Nijhni and +Perm--once in Nijhni while the prisoners were being placed on a +net-covered lighter, and again in the office of the Perm prison. On +both occasions he found her secretive and unkind. When he asked her +about her prison conditions, or whether she wanted anything, she +became confused and answered evasively and, as it seemed to him, with +that hostile feeling of reproach which she had manifested before. And +this gloomy temper, due only to the persecutions to which she was +being subjected by the men, tormented him. + +But at their very first meeting in Tomsk she became again as she was +before her departure. She no longer frowned or became confused when +she saw him, but, on the contrary, met him cheerfully and simply, +thanking him for what he had done for her, especially for bringing her +in contact with her present company. + +After two months of journey from prison to prison, this change also +manifested itself in her appearance. She became thin, sun-burnt and +apparently older; wrinkles appeared on her temples and around her +mouth; she no longer curled her hair on her forehead, but wore a +'kerchief on her head, and neither in her dress, coiffure, nor in her +conduct were there any signs of her former coquetry. And this change +called forth in Nekhludoff a particularly joyous feeling. The feeling +he now experienced toward her was unlike any he had experienced +before. It had nothing in common with his first poetic impulse, nor +with that sentimental love which he felt afterward, nor even with that +consciousness of a duty performed, coupled with self-admiration, which +impelled him, after the trial, to resolve on marrying her. It was that +same simple feeling of pity and contrition which he experienced at +their first meeting in the prison and afterward, with greater force, +when he conquered his disgust and forgave her conduct with the +physician's assistant in the hospital (the injustice he had done her +had subsequently become plain). It was the same feeling with the +difference that, while it was temporary then, now it was permanent. + +During this period, because of Maslova's transfer to the politicals, +Nekhludoff became acquainted with many political prisoners. On closer +acquaintance he was convinced that they were not all villains, as many +people imagined them to be, nor all heroes, as some of them considered +the members of their party, but that they were ordinary people, among +whom, as in other parties, some were good, some bad, the others +indifferent. + +He became particularly attached to a consumptive young man who was on +his way to a life term at hard labor. The story of the young man was a +very short one. His father, a rich Southern landlord, died while he +was a child. He was the only son, and was brought up by his mother. He +was the best scholar in the university, making his specialty +mathematics. He was offered a chair in the university and a course +abroad. But he hesitated. There was a girl of whom he became enamored, +so he contemplated marriage and political activity. He wished +everything, but resolved on nothing. At that time his college chums +asked him for money for a common cause. He knew what that common cause +was, and at the time took no interest in it whatever, but from a +feeling of fellowship and egoism gave the money, that it might not be +thought that he was afraid. Those who took the money were arrested; a +note was found from which it was learned that the money had been given +by Kryltzoff. He was arrested, taken to the police station, then to +the prison. + +After his discharge he traveled now South, now to St. Petersburg, then +abroad, and again to Kieff and to Odessa. He was denounced by a man in +whom he placed great faith. He was arrested, tried, kept in prison two +years and finally death sentence was imposed on him, but was afterward +commuted to hard labor for life. + +He was stricken with consumption while in prison, and under the +present circumstances had but a few months to live, and he knew it. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +At last Nekhludoff succeeded in obtaining permission to visit Maslova +in her cell among the politicals. + +While passing the dimly-lighted court-yard from the officers' +headquarters to "No. 5," escorted by a messenger, he heard a stir and +buzzing of voices coming from the one-story dwelling occupied by the +prisoners. And when he came nearer and the door was opened, the +buzzing increased and turned into a Babel of shouting, cursing and +laughing. A rattling of chains was heard, and a familiar noisome air +was wafted from the doorway. The din of voices with the rattle of +chains, and the dreadful odor always produced in Nekhludoff the +tormenting feeling of some moral nausea, turning into physical +nausea. These two impressions, mingling, strengthened each other. + +The apartment occupied by the political prisoners consisted of two +small cells, the doors of which opened into the corridor, partitioned +off from the rest. As Nekhludoff got beyond the partition he noticed +Simonson feeding a billet of pine wood into the oven. + +Spying Nekhludoff he looked up without rising and extended his hand. + +"I am glad you came; I want to see you!" he said, with a significant +glance, looking Nekhludoff straight in the eyes. + +"What is it?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"I will tell you later; I am busy now." + +And Simonson again occupied himself with making the fire, which he did +according to his special theory of the greatest conservation of heat +energy. + +Nekhludoff was about to enter the first door when Maslova, broom in +hand, and sweeping a heap of dirt and dust toward the oven, emerged +from the second door. She wore a white waist and white stockings and +her skirt was tucked up under the waist. A white 'kerchief covered her +head to her very eyebrows. Seeing Nekhludoff, she unbent herself and, +all red and animated, put aside the broom, and wiping her hands on her +skirt, she stood still. + +"You are putting things in order?" asked Nekhludoff, extending his +hand. + +"Yes, my old occupation," she answered and smiled. "There is such dirt +here; there is no end to our cleaning." + +"Well, is the plaid dry?" she turned to Simonson. + +"Almost," said Simonson, glancing at her in a manner which struck +Nekhludoff as very peculiar. + +"Then I will fetch the furs to dry. All our people are there," she +said to Nekhludoff, going to the further room and pointing to the +nearest door. + +Nekhludoff opened the door and walked into a small cell, dimly lighted +by a little metallic lamp standing on a low bunk. The cell was cold +and there was an odor of dust, dampness and tobacco. The tin lamp +threw a bright light on those around it, but the bunks were in the +shade and vacillating shadows moved along the walls. In the small +room were all the prisoners, except two men who had gone for boiling +water and provisions. There was an old acquaintance of Nekhludoff, the +yellow-faced and thin Vera Efremovna, with her large, frightened eyes +and a big vein on her forehead. She was sitting nervously rolling +cigarettes from a heap of tobacco lying on a newspaper in front of +her. + +In the far corner there was also Maria Pablovna. + +"How opportune your coming! How you seen Katia?" she asked Nekhludoff. + +There was also Anatolie Kryltzoff. Pale and wasted, his legs crossed +under him, bending forward and shivering, he sat in the far corner, +his hands hidden in the sleeves of his fur jacket, and with feverish +eyes looked at Nekhludoff. Nekhludoff was about to approach him, but +to the right of the entrance, sorting something in a bag and talking +to the pretty and smiling Grabetz, sat a man with curly red hair, in a +rubber jacket and with spectacles. His name was Novodvoroff, and +Nekhludoff hastened to greet him. Of all political prisoners, +Nekhludoff liked him best. Novodvoroff glanced over his spectacles at +Nekhludoff and, frowning, he extended his thin hand. + +"Well, are you enjoying your journey?" he said, evidently in irony. + +"Yes, there are many interesting things," answered Nekhludoff, +pretending not to see the irony, and treating it as a civility. Then +he went over to Kryltzoff. In appearance Nekhludoff seemed to be +indifferent, but in reality he was far from being so to Novodvoroff. +These words of Novodvoroff, and his evident desire to say something +unpleasant, jarred upon his kindly sentiments, and he became gloomy +and despondent. + +"Well, how is your health?" he said, pressing Kryltzoff's cold and +trembling hand. + +"Pretty fair, only I cannot get warm; I am all wet," said Kryltzoff, +hastily hiding his hand in the sleeve of his coat. "Those windows are +broken." He pointed to the windows behind the iron gratings. "Why did +you not come before?" + +Expecting to have a private conversation with Katiousha, Nekhludoff +sat conversing with Kryltzoff. Kryltzoff listened attentively, fixedly +gazing at Nekhludoff. + +"Yes," he said, suddenly, "I have often thought that we were going +into exile with those very people on account of whom we were banished. +And yet we not only do not know them, but do not wish to know them. +And, worse of all, they hate us and consider us their enemies. This is +dreadful." + +"There is nothing dreadful about it," said Novodvoroff, overhearing +the conversation. "The masses are always churlish and ignorant." + +At that moment there was an outburst of curses behind the partition +wall, followed by a jostling and banging against walls, a clatter of +chains, screaming and shouting. Some one was being beaten; some one +shouted "Help!" + +"See those beasts! What have they in common with us?" calmly asked +Novodvoroff. + +"You call them beasts, but you should have heard Nekhludoff telling of +the conduct of one of them," Kryltzoff said excitedly. + +"You are sentimental!" Novodvoroff said, ironically. "It is hard for +us to understand the emotions of these people and the motives of their +acts. Where you see magnanimity, there may only be envy." + +"Why is it you do not wish to see good in others?" said Maria +Pablovna, suddenly becoming excited. + +"I cannot see that which does not exist." + +"How can you say it does not exist when a man risks a terrible death?" + +"I think," said Novodvoroff, "that if we wish to serve our cause +effectively it is necessary that we stop dreaming and look at things +as they are. We must do everything for the masses, and expect nothing +from them. The masses are the object of our activity, but they cannot +be our collaborators while they are as inert as they are now. And it +is, therefore, perfectly illusive to expect aid from them before they +have gone through the process of development--that process of +development for which we are preparing them." + +"What process of development?" said Kryltzoff, becoming red in the +face. "We say that we are against the use of force, but is this not +force in its worst form?" + +"There is no force here," calmly said Novodvoroff. "I only said that +I know the path the people must follow, and can point it out." + +"But how do you know that yours is the right path? Is it not the same +despotism which gave rise to the Inquisition and the executions of the +Great Revolution? They, too, knew the only scientific path." + +"The fact that people erred does not prove that I am erring. Besides, +there is a great difference between the ravings of ideologists and the +data of positive economic science." + +Novodvoroff's voice filled the entire cell. He alone was speaking; all +the others were silent. + +"Those eternal discussions!" said Maria Pablovna at a momentary lull. + +"And what do you think of it?" Nekhludoff asked Maria Pablovna. + +"I think that Anatolie is right--that we have no right to force our +ideas on the people." + +"That is a strange conception of our ideas," said Novodvoroff, and he +began to smoke angrily. + +"I cannot talk to them," Kryltzoff said in a whisper, and became +silent. + +"And it is much better not to talk," said Nekhludoff. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +An officer entered the cell and announced that the time for departing +had arrived. He counted every prisoner, pointing at every one with his +finger. When he reached Nekhludoff he said, familiarly: + +"It is too late to remain now, Prince; it is time to go." + +Nekhludoff, knowing what that meant, approached him and thrust three +rubles into his hand. + +"Nothing can be done with you--stay here a while longer." + +Simonson, who was all the while silently sitting on his bunk, his +hands clasped behind his head, firmly arose, and carefully making his +way through those sitting around the bunk, went over to Nekhludoff. + +"Can you hear me now?" asked Simonson. + +"Certainly," said Nekhludoff, also rising to follow him. + +Maslova saw Nekhludoff rising, and their eyes meeting, she turned red +in the face and doubtfully, as it seemed, shook her head. + +"My business with you is the following," began Simonson, when they +reached the corridor. "Knowing your relations toward Catherine +Michaelovna," and he looked straight into Nekhludoff's face, "I +consider it my duty----" But at the very door two voices were shouting +at the same time. + +"I tell you, heathen, they are not mine," shouted one voice. + +"Choke yourself, you devil!" the other said, hoarsely. + +At that moment Maria Pablovna entered the corridor. + +"You cannot talk here," she said. "Walk in here; only Verotchka is +there." And she opened the door of a tiny cell, evidently intended for +solitary confinement, and now at the disposal of the political +prisoners. On one of the bunks lay Vera Efremovna, with her head +covered. + +"She is ill and asleep; she cannot hear you, and I will go," said +Maria Pablovna. + +"On the contrary, stay here," said Simonson. "I keep nothing secret, +especially from you." + +"Very well," said Maria Pablovna, and childishly moving her whole body +from side to side, and thus getting into a snug corner of the bunks, +she prepared to listen, at the same time looking somewhere in the +distance with her beautiful, sheepish eyes. + +"Well, then, knowing your relations toward Catherine Michaelovna, I +consider it my duty to let you know my relations to her." + +"Well, go on," said Nekhludoff, involuntarily admiring Simonson's +simplicity and straightforwardness. + +"I wished to tell you that I would like to marry Catherine +Michaelovna----" + +"Remarkable!" exclaimed Maria Pablovna, fixing her gaze on Simonson. + +"And I have decided to ask her to be my wife," continued Simonson. + +"What, then, can I do? It depends on her," said Nekhludoff. + +"Yes; but she would not decide the matter without you." + +"Why?" + +"Because, while the question of your relations remains undecided, she +cannot choose." + +"On my part the question is definitely decided. I only wished to do +that which I considered it my duty to do, and also to relieve her +condition, but in no case did I intend to influence her choice." + +"Yes; but she does not wish your sacrifice." + +"There is no sacrifice." + +"And I also know that her decision is irrevocable." + +"Why, then, talk to me?" said Nekhludoff. + +"It is necessary for her that you should also approve of it." + +"I can only say that I am not free, but she is free to do what she +wishes." + +Simonson began to ponder. + +"Very well, I will tell her so. Do not think that I am in love with +her," he continued. "I admire her as a good, rare person who has +suffered much. I wish nothing from her, but I would very much like to +help her, to relieve her----" + +Simonson's trembling voice surprised Nekhludoff. + +"To relieve her condition," continued Simonson. "If she does not wish +to accept your help, let her accept mine. If she consented, I would +ask permission to join her in prison. Four years is not an eternity. I +would live near her, and perhaps lighten her fate----" His emotion again +compelled him to stop. + +"What can I say?" said Nekhludoff. "I am glad that she has found such +a protector." + +"That is just what I wanted to know," continued Simonson. "I wished to +know whether you, loving her and seeking her good, could approve of +her marrying me?" + +"Oh, yes," Nekhludoff answered, decisively. + +"It is all for her; all I wish is that that woman, who had suffered so +much, should have some rest," said Simonson, with a childlike +gentleness that no one would expect from a man of such gloomy aspect. + +Simonson rose, took Nekhludoff's hand, smiled bashfully and embraced +him. + +"Well, I will so tell her," he said, and left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +"What do you think of him?" said Maria Pablovna. "In love, and +earnestly in love! I never thought that Vladimir Simonson could fall +in love in such a very stupid, childish fashion. It is remarkable, and +to tell the truth, sad," she concluded, sighing. + +"But Katia? How do you think she will take it?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"She?" Maria Pablovna stopped, evidently desiring to give a precise +answer. "She? You see, notwithstanding her past, she is naturally of a +most moral character. And her feelings are so refined. She loves +you--very much so--and is happy to be able to do you the negative good +of not binding you to herself. Marriage with you would be a dreadful +fall to her, worse than all her past. For this reason she would never +consent to it. At the same time, your presence perplexes her." + +"Ought I then to disappear?" asked Nekhludoff. + +Maria Pablovna smiled in her pleasant, childish way. + +"Yes, partly." + +"How can I partly disappear?" + +"I take it back. But I will tell you that she probably sees the +absurdity of that exalted love of his (he has not spoken to her about +it), is flattered by it, and fears it. You know that I am not +competent in these matters, but I think that his love is that of the +ordinary man, although it is masked. He says that it rouses his energy +and that it is a platonic love; but it has nothing but nastiness for +its basis." + +"But what am I to do?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"I think it is best that you have a talk with her. It is always better +to make everything clear. Shall I call her?" said Maria Pablovna. + +"If you please," answered Nekhludoff, and Maria Pablovna went out. + +Nekhludoff was seized with a strange feeling when, alone in the small +cell, he listened to the quiet breathing of Vera Efremovna, +interrupted by an occasional moan, and the constant din coming from +the cells of the convicts. + +That which Simonson had told him freed him from his self-imposed +obligation, which, in a moment of weakness, seemed to him burdensome +and dreadful; and yet it was not only unpleasant, but painful. The +offer of Simonson destroyed the exclusiveness of his act, minimized in +his own and other people's eyes the value of the sacrifice he was +making. If such a good man as Simonson, who was under no obligation to +her, wished to join his fate to hers, then his own sacrifice was no +longer so important. Maybe there was also the ordinary feeling of +jealousy; he was so used to her love that he could not think that she +was capable of loving any one else. Besides, his plans were now +shattered, especially the plan of living near her while she served her +sentence. If she married Simonson, his presence was no longer +necessary, and that required a rearrangement of his projects. He could +scarcely collect his thoughts, when Katiousha entered the cell. + +With quick step she approached him. + +"Maria Pablovna sent me," she said, stopping near him. + +"Yes, I would like to talk with you. Take a seat. Vladimir Ivanovitch +spoke to me." + +She seated herself, crossed her hands on her knees, and seemed calm. +But as soon as Nekhludoff pronounced Simonson's name, her face turned +a purple color. + +"What did he tell you?" she asked. + +"He told me that he wishes to marry you." + +Her face suddenly became wrinkled, evidencing suffering, but she +remained silent, only looking at the floor. + +"He asked my consent or advice. I told him that it all rests with you; +that you must decide." + +"Oh, what is it all for?" she said, and looked at Nekhludoff with that +squinting glance that always peculiarly affected him. For a few +seconds they looked silently at each other. That glance was +significant to both. + +"You must decide," repeated Nekhludoff. + +"Decide what?" she said. "It has all been decided long ago. It is you +who must decide whether you will accept the offer of Vladimir +Ivanovitch," she continued, frowning. + +"But if a pardon should come?" said Nekhludoff. + +"Oh, leave me alone. It is useless to talk any more," she answered, +and, rising, left the cell. + +Gaining the street, Nekhludoff stopped, and, expanding his chest, drew +in the frosty air. + +The following morning a soldier brought him a note from Maria +Pablovna, in which she said that Kryltzoff's condition was worse than +they thought it to be. + +"At one time we intended to remain here with him, but they would not +allow it. So we are taking him with us, but we fear the worst. Try to +so arrange in town that if he is left behind some one of us shall +remain with him. If it is necessary for that purpose that I should +marry him, then, of course, I am ready to do it." + +Nekhludoff obtained horses and hastened to catch up with the party of +prisoners. He stopped his team near the wagon carrying Kryltzoff on a +bed of hay and pillows. Beside Kryltzoff sat Maria Pablovna. +Kryltzoff, in a fur coat and lambskin cap, seemed thinner and more +pale than before. His beautiful eyes seemed particularly larger and +sparkling. Weakly rolling from side to side from the jostling of the +wagon, he steadily looked at Nekhludoff, and in answer to questions +about his health, he only closed his eyes and angrily shook his head. +It required all his energy to withstand the jostling of the wagon. +Maria Pablovna exchanged glances with Nekhludoff, expressing +apprehension concerning Kryltzoff's condition. + +"The officer seems to have some shame in him," she shouted, so as to +be heard above the rattling of the wheels. "He removed the handcuffs +from Bouzovkin, who is now carrying his child. With him are Katia, +Simonson and, in my place, Verotchka." + +Kryltzoff, pointing at Maria Pablovna, said something which could not, +however, be heard. Nekhludoff leaned over him in order to hear him. +Then Kryltzoff removed the handkerchief, which was tied around his +mouth, and whispered: + +"Now I am better. If I could only keep from catching cold." + +Nekhludoff nodded affirmatively and glanced at Maria Pablovna. + +"Have you received my note, and will you do it?" asked Maria Pablovna. + +"Without fail," said Nekhludoff, and seeing the dissatisfied face of +Kryltzoff, went over to his own team, climbed into the wagon, and +holding fast to the sides of it, drove along the line of gray-coated +and fettered prisoners which stretched for almost a mile. + +Nekhludoff crossed the river to a town, and his driver took him to a +hotel, where, notwithstanding the poor appointments, he found a +measure of comfort entirely wanting in the inns of his stopping +places. He took a bath, dressed himself in city clothes and drove to +the governor of the district. He alighted at a large, handsome +building, in front of which stood a sentry and a policeman. + +The general was ill, and did not receive. Nekhludoff, nevertheless, +asked the porter to take his card to the general, and the porter +returned with a favorable answer: + +"You are asked to step in." + +The vestibule, the porter, the messenger, the shining floor of the +hall--everything reminded him of St. Petersburg, only it was somewhat +dirtier and more majestic. Nekhludoff was admitted to the cabinet. + +The general, bloated, with a potato nose and prominent bumps on his +forehead, hairless pate and bags under his eyes, a man of sanguine +temperament, was reclining in a silk morning gown, and with a +cigarette in his hand, was drinking tea from a silver saucer. + +"How do you do, sir? Excuse my receiving you in a morning gown; it is +better than not receiving at all," he said, covering his stout, +wrinkled neck with the collar of his gown. "I am not quite well, and +do not go out. What brought you into these wilds?" + +"I was following a party of convicts, among whom is a person near to +me," said Nekhludoff. "And now I come to see Your Excellency about +that person, and also another affair." + +The general inhaled the smoke of his cigarette, took a sip of tea, +placed his cigarette in a malachite ash-holder, and steadily gazing +with his watery, shining eyes at Nekhludoff, listened gravely. He only +interrupted Nekhludoff to ask him if he wished to smoke. + +Nekhludoff told the general that the person in whom he was interested +was a woman, that she was unjustly convicted, and that His Majesty's +clemency had been appealed to. + +"Yes. Well?" said the general. + +"I was promised in St. Petersburg that the news of this woman's fate +would be sent to this place not later than this month." + +Looking steadily at Nekhludoff, the general asked: + +"Anything else?" + +"My second request would be concerning the political prisoner who is +going to Siberia with this detachment." + +"Is that so?" said the general. + +"He is very sick--he is a dying man. And he will probably be left here +in the hospital; for this reason one of the female prisoners would +like to remain with him." + +"Is she a relative of his?" + +"No. But she wishes to marry him, if it will allow her to stay with +him." + +The general looked sharply at Nekhludoff from his shining eyes, and, +smoking continually, he kept silence, as if wishing to confound his +companion. + +When Nekhludoff had finished he took a book from the table, and +frequently wetting the fingers with which he turned the leaves, he +lighted on the chapter treating of marriage and perused it. + +"What's her sentence?" he asked, lifting his eyes from the book. + +"Hers? Hard labor." + +"If this is the case, the sentence cannot be changed by marriage." + +"But----" + +"I beg your pardon! If a free man would marry her she would have to +serve her sentence all the same. Whose sentence is harder, his or +hers?" + +"Both are sentenced to hard labor." + +"So they are quits," the general said, laughing. "An equal share for +both of them. He may be left here on account of his sickness," he +continued, "and, of course, everything will be done to ameliorate his +condition, but she, even if she should marry him, cannot remain here. +Anyhow, I will think it over. What are their names? Write them down +here." + +Nekhludoff did as he was asked. + +"And this I cannot do either," said the general, concerning his +request to see the patient. "Of course I don't suspect you, but you +are interested in them and in others. You have money, and the people +here are corrupt. How, then, is it possible for me to watch a person +who is five thousand miles distant from me? There he is king, as I am +here," and he began to laugh. "You have surely seen the political +prisoners. You have surely given them money," he added, smiling. +"Isn't it so?" + +"Yes, it is true." + +"I understand that you must act in this way. You want to see the +political prisoner, and you all sorrow for him, and the soldier on +guard will surely take money, because he has a family, and his salary +amounts to something less than nothing; he cannot afford to refuse. I +would do the same were I in yours or his place. But, being situated as +I am now, I cannot permit myself to disobey one iota of the law, for +the very reason that I, too, am no more than a man, and am liable to +yield to pity. They confide in me under certain conditions, and I, by +my actions, must prove that I am trustworthy. So this question is +settled. Well, now tell me what is going on at the metropolis?" + +Then the general put various questions, as if he would like to learn +some news. + +"Well, tell me now whom you are stopping with--at Duke's? It is +unpleasant there. Come to us to dinner," he said, finally, dismissing +Nekhludoff, "at five. Do you speak English?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Well, that is good. You see, there is an English traveler here. He is +studying the exile system, and the prisons in Siberia. So he will dine +with us, and you come, too. We dine at five, and madam wants us to be +punctual. I will let you know what will be done with that woman, and +also with the patient. Maybe it will be possible to leave somebody +with him." + +Having taken leave of the general, Nekhludoff drove to the +postoffice. Receiving his mail, he walked up to a wooden bench, on +which a soldier was sitting, probably waiting for something; he sat +down beside him, and started to look through the letters. Among them +he found a registered letter in a beautiful, large envelope, with a +large seal of red wax on it. He tore open the envelope, and, seeing a +letter from Selenin with some official document, he felt the blood +mounting to his cheeks, and his heart grow weak. This document was the +decision concerning Katiousha's trial. What was it? Was it possible +that it contained a refusal? Nekhludoff hastily ran over the letter, +written in small, hardly legible, broken handwriting, and breathed +freely. The decision was a favorable one. + +"Dear friend," wrote Selenin, "our last conversation made a strong +impression upon me. You were right concerning Maslova. I have looked +through the accusation. This could be corrected only through the +Commission for Petitions, to which you sent your petition. They let me +have a copy of the pardon, and here I send it to you, to the address +which the Countess Catherine Ivanovna gave me. I press your hand in +friendship." + +The news was pleasant and important. All that Nekhludoff could wish +for Katiousha and himself was realized. True, those changes in his +life changed his relations to her. But now, he thought, all that was +most important was to see her as quick as possible and bring her the +good news of her freedom. He thought that the copy he had in his hand +was sufficient for that. So he bade the cabman drive at once to the +prison. + +The superintendent of the prison told him that he could not admit him +without a permit from the general. The copy of the petition from their +majesty's bureau also did not prevail with the superintendent. He +positively refused admittance. He also refused to admit him to see +Kryltzoff. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +After the disappointment at the prison, Nekhludoff drove down to the +Governor's Bureau to find out whether they had received there any news +concerning the pardon of Maslova. There was no news there, so he drove +back to his hotel, and wrote at once to the lawyer and to Selenin +concerning it. Having finished the letters, he glanced at his watch; +it was already time to go to the general. + +On the way he thought again of how he might hand over the pardon to +Katiousha; of the place she would be sent to, and how he would live +with her. + +At dinner in the general's house all were not only very friendly to +Nekhludoff, but, as it seemed, very favorably inclined to him, as he +was a new, interesting personality. The general, who came in to dinner +with a white cross on his breast, greeted Nekhludoff like an old +friend. On the general's inquiry as to what he had done since he saw +him in the morning, Nekhludoff answered that he had been at the +postoffice, that he had found out the facts concerning the pardoning +of the person they were talking of in the morning, and he asked +permission to visit her. + +The general seemed displeased, began to frown and said nothing. + +"Will you have some whisky?" he said in French to the Englishman who +had walked up to him. The Englishman took some, and related that he +had been to see the cathedral of the city, and the factory, and +expressed the desire to see the great jail in which criminals were +confined on their way to Siberia. + +"This idea is excellent!" exclaimed the general, turning to +Nekhludoff. "You may go together. Give them a pass!" he added, turning +to his lieutenant. + +"What time do you wish to go?" Nekhludoff asked the Englishman. + +"I prefer to visit prisons in the evening," the Englishman replied. +"All are then at home, and there are no preparations." + +After dinner, Nekhludoff followed her into the ante-chamber, where +the Englishman was already waiting for him to visit the prison, as +they had agreed. Having taken leave of the whole family, he walked +out, followed by the Englishman. + +The sombre looking prison, the soldier on guard, the lantern behind +the gate, notwithstanding the pure white layer of snow which had +covered everything--the sidewalk, the roof and the walls--made a +gloomy impression. The proud looking superintendent, walking out to +the gate and glancing at Nekhludoff's pass in the light of the +lantern, shrugged his broad shoulders, but obeyed the order and +invited the visitors to follow him. He first led them to the yard, and +then to a door on the right hand and up the stairs leading to the +office. Offering them seats, he asked them in what way he could serve +them, and learning from Nekhludoff that he wished to see Maslova, he +sent the jailer for her and prepared himself to answer the questions +which the Englishman wished to ask him, before going to the cell. + +Nekhludoff translated the Englishman's questions. While they were +conversing they heard approaching footsteps, the door opened and the +jailer entered, followed by Katiousha in her prison garb, with a scarf +tied around her head. + +Nekhludoff rose and made a few steps toward her. She said nothing, but +her excited expression surprised him. Her face was lit up with a +wonderful decision. He had never seen her look like that. Now the +blood rushed to her face, and now she turned pale; now her fingers +twisted convulsively the edges of her jacket, now she looked at him, +and now she dropped her eyes. + +"You know what I called you for?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"Yes, he told me. But now I am decided. I will ask permission to go +with Vladimir Ivanovitch." She said this quickly, as if she had made +up her mind before what to say. + +"How with Vladimir Ivanovitch?" asked Nekhludoff. But she interrupted +him. + +"But if he wants me to live with him?" Here she stopped in fear, and +added, "I mean to stay with him. I could expect nothing better, and +perhaps I may be useful to him and others. What difference does it +make to me?" + +One of the two things had happened--either she had fallen in love +with Simonson and did not wish his sacrifice, which weighed so heavily +on him, or she was still in love with Nekhludoff and renounced him for +his own good, burning all bridges behind her, and throwing her +fortunes in the same scale with those of Simonson. Nekhludoff +understood it, and felt ashamed. + +"If you are in love with him," he said. + +"I never knew such people, you know. It is impossible not to love +them. And Vladimir is entirely unlike any person I have ever known." + +"Yes, certainly," said Nekhludoff. "He is an excellent man, and I +think----" + +Here she interrupted him, as if she were afraid that he would speak +too much, or she would not say everything. + +"You will forgive me for doing that which you did not wish. You, too, +must love." + +She said the very thing that he had just said to himself. + +But now he was no longer thinking so, but felt altogether different. +He felt not only shame, but pity. + +"Is it possible that all is at an end between us?" he said. + +"Yes, it looks like it," she answered, with a strange smile. + +"But nevertheless I would like to be useful to you." + +"To us," she said, glancing at Nekhludoff. "We don't need anything. I +am very much obliged to you. If it were not for you"--she wished to +say something, but her voice began to tremble. + +"I don't know which of us is under greater obligation to the other. +God will settle our accounts," said Nekhludoff. + +"Yes, God will settle them," she whispered. + +"Are you ready?" asked the Englishman. + +"Directly," answered Nekhludoff, and then he inquired of her what she +knew of Kryltzoff. + +She quieted down and calmly told him: + +"Kryltzoff became very weak on the road and was taken to the hospital. +Maria Pablovna wanted to become a nurse, but there is no answer yet." + +"Well, may I go?" she asked, noticing the Englishman who was waiting +for him. + +"I am not yet taking leave of you," said Nekhludoff, holding out his +hand to her. + +"Pardon me," she said in a low tone. + +Their eyes met, and in that strange, stern look, and in that pitiful +smile, with which she said not "good-by," but "pardon me," Nekhludoff +understood, that of the two suppositions concerning her decision the +latter was the right one. She still loved him and thought she would +mar his life by a union with him, and would free him by living with +Simonson. + +She pressed his hand, turned quickly, and left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +Passing through the hall and the ill-smelling corridors, the +superintendent passed into the first building of the prison in which +those condemned to hard labor were confined. Entering the first room +in that building they found the prisoners stretched on their berths, +which occupied the middle of the room. Hearing the visitors enter they +all jumped down, and, clinking their chains, placed themselves beside +their berths, while their half-shaven heads were distinctly set off +against the gloom of the prison. Only two of the prisoners remained at +their places. One of them was a young man whose face was evidently +heated with fever; the other was an old man, who never left off +groaning. + +The Englishman asked whether the young man had been sick for a long +time. The superintendent replied that he had been taken sick that very +same morning, that the old man had had convulsions for a long time, +and that they kept him in prison because there was no place for him in +the hospital. + +The Englishman shook his head discontentedly, said that he would like +to say a few words to the prisoners, and asked Nekhludoff to translate +his remarks. It turned out that, besides the aim of his journey, which +was the description of the exile system--he had another one--the +preaching of the gospel, of salvation through faith. + +"Tell them that Christ pitied and loved them," he said to Nekhludoff, +"and that He died for them. He who will believe in Him will be saved." + +While he was saying this, all the prisoners were standing erect with +their hands by their sides. + +"Tell them," continued the Englishman, "that all I said will be found +in this book. Are there any among them who can read?" It turned out +that there were more than twenty who could. + +The Englishman took out a few leather-bound Bibles from his traveling +bag, and soon a number of muscular hands, terminating in long black +nails, were stretched out toward him, pushing each other aside in +order to reach the Testaments. He left two Testaments in this room, +and went to the next one. + +There the same thing occurred. There prevailed the same dampness and +ill-smells. But in this room, between the windows, an image of the +Virgin, before which a small lamp burned dimly, was hung up. To the +left side of the door stood the large vat. Here the prisoners were +stretched out on their berths, and in the same way they rose and +placed themselves in a row. Three of them remained in their places. +Two of these three lifted themselves and sat up, but the third one +remained stretched out, and did not even look at the visitors. These +latter ones were sick. The Englishman addressed them in the same +manner, and left two Testaments. + +From the cells in which those condemned to hard labor were imprisoned, +they passed over to the cells of the exiles, and finally those in +which the relatives who escorted the prisoners to Siberia were +awaiting the day appointed to start hence. + +Everywhere the same cold, hungry, idling, sickly, degraded, brutalized +human beings could be seen. + +The Englishman distributed his Bibles, and, being tired out, he walked +through the rooms saying "All right" to whatever the superintendent +told him concerning the prisons. + +They went out into the corridor. + +The Englishman, pointing to an open door, asked what that room was +for. + +"This is the prison morgue." + +"Oh!" exclaimed the Englishman, and he expressed a desire to enter. +This room was an ordinary room. A small lamp, fastened to the wall, +lit up the four bodies which were stretched on berths, with their +heads toward the wall and the feet protruding toward the door. The +first body, in a plain shirt, was that of a tall young man, with a +small, pointed beard and half-shaven head. The corpse was already +chilled, and its blue hands were folded over the breast. Beside him, +in a white dress and jacket, lay a bare-footed old woman, with thin +hair and wrinkled, yellowish face. Beside this old woman lay a corpse, +attired in blue. + +This color recalled something in Nekhludoff's memory. + +"And who is this third one?" he asked, mistrusting his own eyesight. + +"This one is a gentleman who was sent hither from the hospital," +replied the superintendent. + +Nekhludoff walked up to the body and touched the icy cold feet of +Kryltzoff. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +Nekhludoff, after parting with the Englishman, went straight to his +hotel, and walked about his room for a long time. The affair with +Katiousha was at an end. There was something ugly in the very memory +of it. But it was not that which grieved him. Some other affair of his +was yet unsettled--an affair which tortured him and required his +attention. In his imagination rose the gloomy scenes of the hundreds +and thousands of human beings pent up in the pestiferous air. The +laughter of the prisoners resounded in his ears. He saw again among +the dead bodies the beautiful, angry, waxen face of the dead +Kryltzoff; and the question whether he was mad, or all those who +commit those evils and think themselves wise were mad, bore in upon +his mind with renewed power, and he found no answer to it. The +principal difficulty consisted in finding an answer to the principal +question, which was: What should be done with those who became +brutalized in the struggle for life? + +When he became tired walking about the room he sat down on the +lounge, close by the lamp, and mechanically opened the Bible which the +Englishman had presented him, and which he had thrown on the table +while emptying his pockets. They say, he thought, that this Bible +contains the solution to all questions. So, opening it, he began to +read at the place at which it opened itself--Matt. x., 8. After a +while he inclined close to the lamp and became like one petrified. An +exultation, the like of which he had not experienced for a long time, +took possession of his soul, as though, after long suffering and +weariness, he found at last liberty and rest. He did not sleep the +whole night. As is the case with many who read the Bible for the first +time, he now, on reading it again, grasped the full meaning of words +which he had known long ago, but which he had not understood before. +Like a sponge that absorbs everything, so he absorbed everything that +was important, necessary and joyful. + +"That is the principal thing," thought Nekhludoff. "We all live in the +silly belief that we ourselves are the lords of our world, that this +world has been given us for our enjoyment. But this is evidently +untrue. Somebody must have sent us here for some reason. And for this +reason it is plain that we will suffer like those laborers suffer who +do not fulfill the wishes of their Master. The will of the Lord is +expressed in the teachings of Christ. Let man obey Him, and the +Kingdom of the Lord will come on earth, and man will derive the +greatest possible good. + +"_Seek the truth and the Kingdom of God, and the rest will come of +itself._ We seek that which is to come, and do not find it, and not +only do we not build the Kingdom of God, but we destroy it. + +"So this will henceforth be the task of my life!" + +And indeed, from that night a new life began for Nekhludoff; not so +much because he had risen into a new stage of existence, but because +all that had happened to him till then assumed for him an altogether +new meaning. + + +THE END. + + + * * * * * + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES: +(Not part of the original book.) + +Below are listed the spelling inconsistencies in the names of certain +characters. The names were transcribed to match the original text +except where typos are assumed to have caused the variations. Changes +from the original are noted below, except for minor punctuation +corrections. + +Absence changed to absent from original sentence (Part 1, Ch. VI, + Pg. 25): + + He was postponing the case against the Skoptzy, although + the absence witness was an entirely unnecessary one. + +Birukova (Theodosia) (1 time) +Brinkova (Theodosia) (1 time) + +Borki (village) (1 time) +Borkoff (village) (1 time) +Barkoff (village) (1 time) + +Chapter (3 times) +Chepter (1 time), changed to Chapter from original sentence (Part 1, + Ch. XLIII, Pg. 153): + + "To the Department of Cassation, etc., etc., Katherine, etc. + Petition. By the decision, etc., of the etc., rendered, etc., + a certain Maslova was found guilty of taking the life, by + poisoning, of a certain merchant Smelkoff, and in pursuance + of Chepter 1,454 of the Code, was sentenced to etc., with + hard labor, etc." + +Daus changed to dans, from original sentence (Part 2, Ch. IX, Pg. 229): + + Il donne daus le spiritisme. + +Dmitri (22 times) +Dimitri (3 times) + +Dvorianskaia (1 time) +Dvorinskaia (1 time) + +Fanarin (11 times) +Fanirin (19 times) + +Fomer changed to former, from original sentence (Part 1, Ch. XLIII, + Pg. 151): + + Not only was the old arrangement of things continued, but, + as in fomer times, the house received a general cleaning. + +Gerasimovich (7 times) +Gerasimovitch (8 times) + +Ivanova (Bochkova) (1 time) +Ivanovna (Bochkova) (1 time) + +Ivanovich (Dmitri) (14 times) +Ivanovitch (Dmitri) (3 time) + +Kamensky (2 times) +Kanesky (1 time) + +Katherine (Michaelovna Maslova) (15 times) +Catherine (Michaelovna Maslova) (3 times) + +Katiousha (122 times) +Katiusha (3 times) + +Korableva (39 times) +Korabeva (1 time), changed to Korableva from original sentence (Part 1, + Ch. XLVI, Pg. 164): + + "Well, girl, good times are coming," said Korabeva to + Maslova when the latter returned to the cell. + +Kornei (8 times) +Kornci (1 time), changed to Kornei from original sentence (Part 2, + Ch. VI, Pg. 215): + + The odor of camphor still hung in the air through all the + rooms, and Agrippina, Petrovna and Kornci seemed tired out + and dissatisfied, and even quarreled about the packing of + the things, the use of which seemed to consist chiefly in + being hung out, dried and packed away again. + +Kryltzoff (22 times) +Kyrltzoff (1 time), changed to Kryltzoff from original sentence + (Part 3, Ch. V, Pg. 301): + + "I cannot talk to them," Kyrltzoff said in a whisper, and + became silent. + +Kusminskoie (8 times) +Kusminskoi (1 time), changed to Kusminskoie from original sentence + (Part 2, Ch. V, Pg. 215): + + Recalling now the feeling of pity over the loss of his + property which he had experienced in Kusminskoi, Nekhludoff + wondered how he could have done so. + +Kusminskoe (1 time), changed to Kusminskoie from original sentence + (Part 2, Ch. XXIV, Pg. 286): + + "I have not yet given the Kusminskoe land to the peasants." + +Maslova (294 times) +Moslova (3 times) + +Two occurrences of Moslova kept as in original, as they could be +interpreted as her name misspelled on the prison list, and Nekhludoff +asking for her by that name. The third was considered a typo and +changed from the original sentence (Part 1, Ch. XI, Pg. 41): + + "What took place?" suddenly said Moslova. + +Menshov (9 times) +Menshova (5 times) +Menshoff (1 time) + +Michaelovna (5 times) +Michaelova (1 time), changed to Michaelovna from original sentence + (Part 1, Ch. XXIII, Pg. 82): + + 3. Is the burgess Katherine Michaelova Maslova, twenty-seven + years of age, guilty of the crime mentioned in the first + question? + +Natalie (15 times) +Natalia (10 times) +Natasha (3 times) + +Nekhludoff (970 times) +Nekludoff (1 time), changed to Nekhludoff from original sentence + (Part 1, Ch. XXV, Pg. 90): + + Nekludoff called to mind these two well-known lawyers. + +Nekhuldoff (1 time), changed to Nekhludoff from original sentence + (Part 1, Ch. XLII, Pg. 149): + + Nekhuldoff expected that at the first meeting Katiousha, + learning of his intention to serve her, and of his + repentance, would be moved to rejoicing, would become again + Katiousha, but to his surprise and horror, he saw that + Katiousha was no more; that only Maslova remained. + +Nikiforovitch (26 times) +Nikiforvitch (1 time), changed to Nikiforovitch from original sentence + (Part 2, Ch. XX, Pg. 269): + + "In the first place, the Ministry will not refer to the + Senate," and Ignatius Nikiforvitch smiled condescendingly, + "but will call for all the documents in the case, and, if it + finds an error, will so decide." + +Panov (5 times) +Panovo (1 time) +Panoff (1 time) + +Petrovna (25 times) +Petrovana (1 time), changed to Petrovna from original sentence (Part 1, + Ch. III, Pg. 15): + + "Then I will bid her wait," and Agrippina Petrovana glided + out of the dining-room, first replacing the crumb-brush, + which lay on the table, in its holder. + +Replusive was changed to repulsive from the original sentence (Part 1, + Ch. XLI, Pg. 148): + + "Because I wish to efface, to expiate my sin. Katiousha----" + he began, and was about to tell her that he would marry her, + but he met her eyes in which he read something so terrible, + rude and replusive that he could not finish. + +Selenin (21 times) +Selinin (1 time), changed to Selenin from original sentence (Part 3, + Ch. VIII, Pg. 311): + + There was no news there, so he drove back to his hotel, and + wrote at once to the lawyer and to Selinin concerning it. + +Silenin (3 times), changed to Selenin from original sentences (Part 2, + Ch. XII, Pg. 239 and Part 3, Ch. VII, Pg. 310): + + "Is the associate's name Silenin?" he asked the lawyer. + + He tore open the envelope, and, seeing a letter from Silenin + with some official document, he felt the blood mounting to + his cheeks, and his heart grow weak. + + "Dear friend," wrote Silenin, "our last conversation made a + strong impression upon me." + +Shouleds was changed to shoulders from the original sentence (Part 2, + Ch. XVI, Pg. 252): + + In the box he found Mariette and a strange lady with a red + mantle over her shouleds and high head-dress, and two men--a + general, Mariette's husband, a handsome, tall man with a + high, artificial, military breast, and a flaxen haired, + bald-headed man with shaved chin and solemn side-whiskers. + +Simonson (31 times) +Simsonson (1 time), changed to Simonson from the original sentence + (Part 3, Ch. VII, Pg. 304): + + I never thought that Vladimir Simsonson could fall in love in + such a very stupid, childish fashion. + +Smelkoff (34 times) +Smeldoff (1 time), changed to Smelkoff from the original sentence + (Part 1, Ch. XI, Pg. 39): + + "You are charged, together with Euphemia Bochkova and + Katherine Maslova, with stealing from the trunk of the + merchant Smeldoff money belonging to him, and subsequently + brought arsenic and induced Maslova to administer it to + Smelkoff, by reason of which he came to his death." + +Smothly changed to smoothly from the original sentence + (Part 1, Ch. LIII, Pg. 183): + + At first everything went on smothly, but afterward one of + the party was caught, the papers were seized, and then all + were taken in a police drag-net. + +Tarass (7 times) +Taras (1 time), changed to Tarass from original sentence (Part 3, + Ch. 1, Pg. 290): + + Her condition in this respect was somewhat relieved by the + presence of Theodosia and Taras, who, learning that his wife + was subjected to these insults, had himself included among + the prisoners, and riding as such from Nijhni, was able to + protect her to some extent. + +Therapout (1 time) +Therapont (1 time) + +TOLSTOY (Count Leo, author) (correct spelling) (0 times) +TOLSTOI (Count Leo, author) (2 times) left variation as in original. + +Tourgenieff (1 time) (correct spelling.) +Tourgeniff (1 time) Could be misquoted by character, left as original. + +Vasilevna (Maria) (1 time) +Vasilieona (Maria) (1 time) + +Vodk changed to vodka from original sentence (Part 1, Ch. XLIV, + Pg. 157): + + Korableva, Miss Dandy, Theodosia and Maslova, flushed and + animated, for they had already partaken of vodk which Maslova + now had in abundance, were sitting in their corner, talking + of the same thing. + +Maslenikoff, Nekhludoff character error: + +Nekhludoff was kept in the following sentence to match the original, +and because it wasn't a simple printer's typo. It should have been +Maslenikoff speaking in place of Nekhludoff as can be seen by the +surrounding paragraphs (Part 1, Ch. LVI, Pg. 190): + + "How did you come to know it?" asked Nekhludoff, and his + face showed disquietude and displeasure. + + "I was visiting a prisoner, and these people surrounded me + and asked----" + + "What prisoner were you visiting?" + + "The peasant who is innocently accused, and for whom I have + obtained counsel. But that is not to the point. Is it + possible that these innocent people are kept in prison only + because they failed to renew their passports?" + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AWAKENING*** + + +******* This file should be named 17352.txt or 17352.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/3/5/17352 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Childhood + +Author: Leo Tolstoy + +Release Date: March 21, 2006 [EBook #2142] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILDHOOD *** + + + + +Produced by Martin Adamson and David Widger + + + + + +CHILDHOOD + +By Leo Tolstoy + + +Translated by C.J. Hogarth + + + + +I -- THE TUTOR, KARL IVANITCH + +On the 12th of August, 18-- (just three days after my tenth birthday, +when I had been given such wonderful presents), I was awakened at seven +o'clock in the morning by Karl Ivanitch slapping the wall close to my +head with a fly-flap made of sugar paper and a stick. He did this so +roughly that he hit the image of my patron saint suspended to the oaken +back of my bed, and the dead fly fell down on my curls. I peeped out +from under the coverlet, steadied the still shaking image with my hand, +flicked the dead fly on to the floor, and gazed at Karl Ivanitch with +sleepy, wrathful eyes. He, in a parti-coloured wadded dressing-gown +fastened about the waist with a wide belt of the same material, a red +knitted cap adorned with a tassel, and soft slippers of goat skin, went +on walking round the walls and taking aim at, and slapping, flies. + +"Suppose," I thought to myself, "that I am only a small boy, yet why +should he disturb me? Why does he not go killing flies around Woloda's +bed? No; Woloda is older than I, and I am the youngest of the family, so +he torments me. That is what he thinks of all day long--how to tease +me. He knows very well that he has woken me up and frightened me, but he +pretends not to notice it. Disgusting brute! And his dressing-gown and +cap and tassel too--they are all of them disgusting." + +While I was thus inwardly venting my wrath upon Karl Ivanitch, he had +passed to his own bedstead, looked at his watch (which hung suspended in +a little shoe sewn with bugles), and deposited the fly-flap on a nail, +then, evidently in the most cheerful mood possible, he turned round to +us. + +"Get up, children! It is quite time, and your mother is already in the +drawing-room," he exclaimed in his strong German accent. Then he crossed +over to me, sat down at my feet, and took his snuff-box out of his +pocket. I pretended to be asleep. Karl Ivanitch sneezed, wiped his +nose, flicked his fingers, and began amusing himself by teasing me and +tickling my toes as he said with a smile, "Well, well, little lazy one!" + +For all my dread of being tickled, I determined not to get out of bed +or to answer him, but hid my head deeper in the pillow, kicked out with +all my strength, and strained every nerve to keep from laughing. + +"How kind he is, and how fond of us!" I thought to myself. "Yet to think +that I could be hating him so just now!" + +I felt angry, both with myself and with Karl Ivanitch, I wanted to laugh +and to cry at the same time, for my nerves were all on edge. + +"Leave me alone, Karl!" I exclaimed at length, with tears in my eyes, as +I raised my head from beneath the bed-clothes. + +Karl Ivanitch was taken aback, He left off tickling my feet, and asked +me kindly what the matter was, Had I had a disagreeable dream? His good +German face and the sympathy with which he sought to know the cause +of my tears made them flow the faster. I felt conscience-stricken, and +could not understand how, only a minute ago, I had been hating Karl, +and thinking his dressing-gown and cap and tassel disgusting. On the +contrary, they looked eminently lovable now. Even the tassel seemed +another token of his goodness. I replied that I was crying because I had +had a bad dream, and had seen Mamma dead and being buried. Of course it +was a mere invention, since I did not remember having dreamt anything +at all that night, but the truth was that Karl's sympathy as he tried to +comfort and reassure me had gradually made me believe that I HAD dreamt +such a horrible dream, and so weep the more--though from a different +cause to the one he imagined. + +When Karl Ivanitch had left me, I sat up in bed and proceeded to draw +my stockings over my little feet. The tears had quite dried now, yet the +mournful thought of the invented dream was still haunting me a little. +Presently Uncle [This term is often applied by children to old servants +in Russia] Nicola came in--a neat little man who was always grave, +methodical, and respectful, as well as a great friend of Karl's, He +brought with him our clothes and boots--at least, boots for Woloda, and +for myself the old detestable, be-ribanded shoes. In his presence I +felt ashamed to cry, and, moreover, the morning sun was shining so gaily +through the window, and Woloda, standing at the washstand as he mimicked +Maria Ivanovna (my sister's governess), was laughing so loud and so +long, that even the serious Nicola--a towel over his shoulder, the soap +in one hand, and the basin in the other--could not help smiling as he +said, "Will you please let me wash you, Vladimir Petrovitch?" I had +cheered up completely. + +"Are you nearly ready?" came Karl's voice from the schoolroom. The tone +of that voice sounded stern now, and had nothing in it of the kindness +which had just touched me so much. In fact, in the schoolroom Karl was +altogether a different man from what he was at other times. There he was +the tutor. I washed and dressed myself hurriedly, and, a brush still +in my hand as I smoothed my wet hair, answered to his call. Karl, +with spectacles on nose and a book in his hand, was sitting, as usual, +between the door and one of the windows. To the left of the door were +two shelves--one of them the children's (that is to say, ours), and the +other one Karl's own. Upon ours were heaped all sorts of books--lesson +books and play books--some standing up and some lying down. The only +two standing decorously against the wall were two large volumes of a +Histoire des Voyages, in red binding. On that shelf could be seen books +thick and thin and books large and small, as well as covers without +books and books without covers, since everything got crammed up together +anyhow when play time arrived and we were told to put the "library" (as +Karl called these shelves) in order The collection of books on his own +shelf was, if not so numerous as ours, at least more varied. Three of +them in particular I remember, namely, a German pamphlet (minus a cover) +on Manuring Cabbages in Kitchen-Gardens, a History of the Seven Years' +War (bound in parchment and burnt at one corner), and a Course of +Hydrostatics. Though Karl passed so much of his time in reading that he +had injured his sight by doing so, he never read anything beyond these +books and The Northern Bee. + +Another article on Karl's shelf I remember well. This was a round piece +of cardboard fastened by a screw to a wooden stand, with a sort of comic +picture of a lady and a hairdresser glued to the cardboard. Karl was +very clever at fixing pieces of cardboard together, and had devised this +contrivance for shielding his weak eyes from any very strong light. + +I can see him before me now--the tall figure in its wadded dressing-gown +and red cap (a few grey hairs visible beneath the latter) sitting beside +the table; the screen with the hairdresser shading his face; one hand +holding a book, and the other one resting on the arm of the chair. +Before him lie his watch, with a huntsman painted on the dial, a +check cotton handkerchief, a round black snuff-box, and a green +spectacle-case, The neatness and orderliness of all these articles show +clearly that Karl Ivanitch has a clear conscience and a quiet mind. + +Sometimes, when tired of running about the salon downstairs, I would +steal on tiptoe to the schoolroom and find Karl sitting alone in his +armchair as, with a grave and quiet expression on his face, he perused +one of his favourite books. Yet sometimes, also, there were moments when +he was not reading, and when the spectacles had slipped down his large +aquiline nose, and the blue, half-closed eyes and faintly smiling lips +seemed to be gazing before them with a curious expression, All would be +quiet in the room--not a sound being audible save his regular breathing +and the ticking of the watch with the hunter painted on the dial. He +would not see me, and I would stand at the door and think: "Poor, poor +old man! There are many of us, and we can play together and be happy, +but he sits there all alone, and has nobody to be fond of him. Surely +he speaks truth when he says that he is an orphan. And the story of his +life, too--how terrible it is! I remember him telling it to Nicola, How +dreadful to be in his position!" Then I would feel so sorry for him that +I would go to him, and take his hand, and say, "Dear Karl Ivanitch!" +and he would be visibly delighted whenever I spoke to him like this, and +would look much brighter. + +On the second wall of the schoolroom hung some maps--mostly torn, but +glued together again by Karl's hand. On the third wall (in the middle of +which stood the door) hung, on one side of the door, a couple of rulers +(one of them ours--much bescratched, and the other one his--quite a new +one), with, on the further side of the door, a blackboard on which our +more serious faults were marked by circles and our lesser faults by +crosses. To the left of the blackboard was the corner in which we had to +kneel when naughty. How well I remember that corner--the shutter on the +stove, the ventilator above it, and the noise which it made when turned! +Sometimes I would be made to stay in that corner till my back and knees +were aching all over, and I would think to myself. "Has Karl Ivanitch +forgotten me? He goes on sitting quietly in his arm-chair and reading +his Hydrostatics, while I--!" Then, to remind him of my presence, I +would begin gently turning the ventilator round. Or scratching some +plaster off the wall; but if by chance an extra large piece fell upon +the floor, the fright of it was worse than any punishment. I would +glance round at Karl, but he would still be sitting there quietly, book +in hand, and pretending that he had noticed nothing. + +In the middle of the room stood a table, covered with a torn black +oilcloth so much cut about with penknives that the edge of the table +showed through. Round the table stood unpainted chairs which, through +use, had attained a high degree of polish. The fourth and last wall +contained three windows, from the first of which the view was as +follows, Immediately beneath it there ran a high road on which every +irregularity, every pebble, every rut was known and dear to me. Beside +the road stretched a row of lime-trees, through which glimpses could be +caught of a wattled fence, with a meadow with farm buildings on one side +of it and a wood on the other--the whole bounded by the keeper's hut at +the further end of the meadow, The next window to the right overlooked +the part of the terrace where the "grownups" of the family used to sit +before luncheon. Sometimes, when Karl was correcting our exercises, I +would look out of that window and see Mamma's dark hair and the backs +of some persons with her, and hear the murmur of their talking and +laughter. Then I would feel vexed that I could not be there too, and +think to myself, "When am I going to be grown up, and to have no more +lessons, but sit with the people whom I love instead of with these +horrid dialogues in my hand?" Then my anger would change to sadness, and +I would fall into such a reverie that I never heard Karl when he scolded +me for my mistakes. + +At last, on the morning of which I am speaking, Karl Ivanitch took +off his dressing-gown, put on his blue frockcoat with its creased and +crumpled shoulders, adjusted his tie before the looking-glass, and took +us down to greet Mamma. + + + + +II -- MAMMA + +Mamma was sitting in the drawing-room and making tea. In one hand she +was holding the tea-pot, while with the other one she was drawing water +from the urn and letting it drip into the tray. Yet though she appeared +to be noticing what she doing, in reality she noted neither this fact +nor our entry. + +However vivid be one's recollection of the past, any attempt to recall +the features of a beloved being shows them to one's vision as through +a mist of tears--dim and blurred. Those tears are the tears of the +imagination. When I try to recall Mamma as she was then, I see, true, +her brown eyes, expressive always of love and kindness, the small mole +on her neck below where the small hairs grow, her white embroidered +collar, and the delicate, fresh hand which so often caressed me, +and which I so often kissed; but her general appearance escapes me +altogether. + +To the left of the sofa stood an English piano, at which my dark-haired +sister Lubotshka was sitting and playing with manifest effort (for +her hands were rosy from a recent washing in cold water) Clementi's +"Etudes." Then eleven years old, she was dressed in a short cotton frock +and white lace-frilled trousers, and could take her octaves only in +arpeggio. Beside her was sitting Maria Ivanovna, in a cap adorned +with pink ribbons and a blue shawl, Her face was red and cross, and it +assumed an expression even more severe when Karl Ivanitch entered the +room. Looking angrily at him without answering his bow, she went on +beating time with her foot and counting, "One, two, three--one, two, +three," more loudly and commandingly than ever. + +Karl Ivanitch paid no attention to this rudeness, but went, as usual, +with German politeness to kiss Mamma's hand, She drew herself up, shook +her head as though by the movement to chase away sad thoughts from her, +and gave Karl her hand, kissing him on his wrinkled temple as he bent +his head in salutation. + +"I thank you, dear Karl Ivanitch," she said in German, and then, still +using the same language asked him how we (the children) had slept. +Karl Ivanitch was deaf in one ear, and the added noise of the piano now +prevented him from hearing anything at all. He moved nearer to the sofa, +and, leaning one hand upon the table and lifting his cap above his +head, said with, a smile which in those days always seemed to me the +perfection of politeness: "You, will excuse me, will you not, Natalia +Nicolaevna?" + +The reason for this was that, to avoid catching cold, Karl never took +off his red cap, but invariably asked permission, on entering the +drawing-room, to retain it on his head. + +"Yes, pray replace it, Karl Ivanitch," said Mamma, bending towards him +and raising her voice, "But I asked you whether the children had slept +well?" + +Still he did not hear, but, covering his bald head again with the red +cap, went on smiling more than ever. + +"Stop a moment, Mimi." said Mamma (now smiling also) to Maria Ivanovna. +"It is impossible to hear anything." + +How beautiful Mamma's face was when she smiled! It made her so +infinitely more charming, and everything around her seemed to grow +brighter! If in the more painful moments of my life I could have seen +that smile before my eyes, I should never have known what grief is. In +my opinion, it is in the smile of a face that the essence of what we +call beauty lies. If the smile heightens the charm of the face, then the +face is a beautiful one. If the smile does not alter the face, then the +face is an ordinary one. But if the smile spoils the face, then the face +is an ugly one indeed. + +Mamma took my head between her hands, bent it gently backwards, looked +at me gravely, and said: "You have been crying this morning?" + +I did not answer. She kissed my eyes, and said again in German: "Why did +you cry?" + +When talking to us with particular intimacy she always used this +language, which she knew to perfection. + +"I cried about a dream, Mamma" I replied, remembering the invented +vision, and trembling involuntarily at the recollection. + +Karl Ivanitch confirmed my words, but said nothing as to the subject of +the dream. Then, after a little conversation on the weather, in which +Mimi also took part, Mamma laid some lumps of sugar on the tray for +one or two of the more privileged servants, and crossed over to her +embroidery frame, which stood near one of the windows. + +"Go to Papa now, children," she said, "and ask him to come to me before +he goes to the home farm." + +Then the music, the counting, and the wrathful looks from Mimi began +again, and we went off to see Papa. Passing through the room which had +been known ever since Grandpapa's time as "the pantry," we entered the +study. + + + + +III -- PAPA + +He was standing near his writing-table, and pointing angrily to some +envelopes, papers, and little piles of coin upon it as he addressed some +observations to the bailiff, Jakoff Michaelovitch, who was standing in +his usual place (that is to say, between the door and the barometer) +and rapidly closing and unclosing the fingers of the hand which he held +behind his back, The more angry Papa grew, the more rapidly did those +fingers twirl, and when Papa ceased speaking they came to rest also. +Yet, as soon as ever Jakoff himself began to talk, they flew here, +there, and everywhere with lightning rapidity. These movements always +appeared to me an index of Jakoff's secret thoughts, though his face was +invariably placid, and expressive alike of dignity and submissiveness, +as who should say, "I am right, yet let it be as you wish." On seeing +us, Papa said, "Directly--wait a moment," and looked towards the door as +a hint for it to be shut. + +"Gracious heavens! What can be the matter with you to-day, Jakoff?" he +went on with a hitch of one shoulder (a habit of his). "This envelope +here with the 800 roubles enclosed,"--Jacob took out a set of tablets, +put down "800" and remained looking at the figures while he waited +for what was to come next--"is for expenses during my absence. Do you +understand? From the mill you ought to receive 1000 roubles. Is not +that so? And from the Treasury mortgage you ought to receive some 8000 +roubles. From the hay--of which, according to your calculations, we +shall be able to sell 7000 poods [The pood = 40 lbs.]at 45 copecks a +piece there should come in 3000, Consequently the sum-total that you +ought to have in hand soon is--how much?--12,000 roubles. Is that +right?" + +"Precisely," answered Jakoff, Yet by the extreme rapidity with which +his fingers were twitching I could see that he had an objection to make. +Papa went on: + +"Well, of this money you will send 10,000 roubles to the Petrovskoe +local council, As for the money already at the office, you will remit it +to me, and enter it as spent on this present date." Jakoff turned over +the tablet marked "12,000," and put down "21,000"--seeming, by his +action, to imply that 12,000 roubles had been turned over in the +same fashion as he had turned the tablet. "And this envelope with the +enclosed money," concluded Papa, "you will deliver for me to the person +to whom it is addressed." + +I was standing close to the table, and could see the address. It was "To +Karl Ivanitch Mayer." Perhaps Papa had an idea that I had read something +which I ought not, for he touched my shoulder with his hand and made me +aware, by a slight movement, that I must withdraw from the table. Not +sure whether the movement was meant for a caress or a command, I kissed +the large, sinewy hand which rested upon my shoulder. + +"Very well," said Jakoff. "And what are your orders about the accounts +for the money from Chabarovska?" (Chabarovska was Mamma's village.) + +"Only that they are to remain in my office, and not to be taken thence +without my express instructions." + +For a minute or two Jakoff was silent. Then his fingers began to twitch +with extraordinary rapidity, and, changing the expression of deferential +vacancy with which he had listened to his orders for one of shrewd +intelligence, he turned his tablets back and spoke. + +"Will you allow me to inform you, Peter Alexandritch," he said, with +frequent pauses between his words, "that, however much you wish it, it +is out of the question to repay the local council now. You enumerated +some items, I think, as to what ought to come in from the mortgage, the +mill, and the hay (he jotted down each of these items on his tablets +again as he spoke). Yet I fear that we must have made a mistake +somewhere in the accounts." Here he paused a while, and looked gravely +at Papa. + +"How so?" + +"Well, will you be good enough to look for yourself? There is the +account for the mill. The miller has been to me twice to ask for time, +and I am afraid that he has no money whatever in hand. He is here now. +Would you like to speak to him?" + +"No. Tell me what he says," replied Papa, showing by a movement of his +head that he had no desire to have speech with the miller. + +"Well, it is easy enough to guess what he says. He declares that there +is no grinding to be got now, and that his last remaining money has gone +to pay for the dam. What good would it do for us to turn him out? As to +what you were pleased to say about the mortgage, you yourself are aware +that your money there is locked up and cannot be recovered at a moment's +notice. I was sending a load of flour to Ivan Afanovitch to-day, and +sent him a letter as well, to which he replies that he would have been +glad to oblige you, Peter Alexandritch, were it not that the matter is +out of his hands now, and that all the circumstances show that it would +take you at least two months to withdraw the money. From the hay I +understood you to estimate a return of 3000 roubles?" (Here Jakoff +jotted down "3000" on his tablets, and then looked for a moment from the +figures to Papa with a peculiar expression on his face.) "Well, surely +you see for yourself how little that is? And even then we should lose if +we were to sell the stuff now, for you must know that--" + +It was clear that he would have had many other arguments to adduce had +not Papa interrupted him. + +"I cannot make any change in my arrangements," said Papa. "Yet if there +should REALLY have to be any delay in the recovery of these sums, we +could borrow what we wanted from the Chabarovska funds." + +"Very well, sir." The expression of Jakoff's face and the way in which +he twitched his fingers showed that this order had given him great +satisfaction. He was a serf, and a most zealous, devoted one, but, +like all good bailiffs, exacting and parsimonious to a degree in the +interests of his master. Moreover, he had some queer notions of his own. +He was forever endeavouring to increase his master's property at the +expense of his mistress's, and to prove that it would be impossible to +avoid using the rents from her estates for the benefit of Petrovskoe (my +father's village, and the place where we lived). This point he had now +gained and was delighted in consequence. + +Papa then greeted ourselves, and said that if we stayed much longer in +the country we should become lazy boys; that we were growing quite big +now, and must set about doing lessons in earnest, + +"I suppose you know that I am starting for Moscow to-night?" he went on, +"and that I am going to take you with me? You will live with Grandmamma, +but Mamma and the girls will remain here. You know, too, I am sure, that +Mamma's one consolation will be to hear that you are doing your lessons +well and pleasing every one around you." + +The preparations which had been in progress for some days past had +made us expect some unusual event, but this news left us thunderstruck, +Woloda turned red, and, with a shaking voice, delivered Mamma's message +to Papa. + +"So this was what my dream foreboded!" I thought to myself. "God send +that there come nothing worse!" I felt terribly sorry to have to leave +Mamma, but at the same rejoiced to think that I should soon be grown up, +"If we are going to-day, we shall probably have no lessons to do, and +that will be splendid, However, I am sorry for Karl Ivanitch, for he +will certainly be dismissed now. That was why that envelope had been +prepared for him. I think I would almost rather stay and do lessons here +than leave Mamma or hurt poor Karl. He is miserable enough already." + +As these thoughts crossed my mind I stood looking sadly at the black +ribbons on my shoes, After a few words to Karl Ivanitch about the +depression of the barometer and an injunction to Jakoff not to feed +the hounds, since a farewell meet was to be held after luncheon, Papa +disappointed my hopes by sending us off to lessons--though he also +consoled us by promising to take us out hunting later. + +On my way upstairs I made a digression to the terrace. Near the door +leading on to it Papa's favourite hound, Milka, was lying in the sun and +blinking her eyes. + +"Miloshka," I cried as I caressed her and kissed her nose, "we are going +away today. Good-bye. Perhaps we shall never see each other again." I +was crying and laughing at the same time. + + + + +IV -- LESSONS + +Karl Ivanitch was in a bad temper, This was clear from his contracted +brows, and from the way in which he flung his frockcoat into a drawer, +angrily donned his old dressing-gown again, and made deep dints with +his nails to mark the place in the book of dialogues to which we were +to learn by heart. Woloda began working diligently, but I was too +distracted to do anything at all. For a long while I stared vacantly +at the book; but tears at the thought of the impending separation kept +rushing to my eyes and preventing me from reading a single word. When at +length the time came to repeat the dialogues to Karl (who listened to us +with blinking eyes--a very bad sign), I had no sooner reached the place +where some one asks, "Wo kommen Sie her?" ("Where do you come from?") +and some one else answers him, "Ich komme vom Kaffeehaus" ("I come from +the coffee-house"), than I burst into tears and, for sobbing, could not +pronounce, "Haben Sie die Zeitung nicht gelesen?" ("Have you not read the +newspaper?") at all. Next, when we came to our writing lesson, the tears +kept falling from my eyes and, making a mess on the paper, as though +some one had written on blotting-paper with water, Karl was very +angry. He ordered me to go down upon my knees, declared that it was all +obstinacy and "puppet-comedy playing" (a favourite expression of his) +on my part, threatened me with the ruler, and commanded me to say that +I was sorry. Yet for sobbing and crying I could not get a word out. At +last--conscious, perhaps, that he was unjust--he departed to Nicola's +pantry, and slammed the door behind him. Nevertheless their conversation +there carried to the schoolroom. + +"Have you heard that the children are going to Moscow, Nicola?" said +Karl. + +"Yes. How could I help hearing it?" + +At this point Nicola seemed to get up for Karl said, "Sit down, Nicola," +and then locked the door. However, I came out of my corner and crept to +the door to listen. + +"However much you may do for people, and however fond of them you may +be, never expect any gratitude, Nicola," said Karl warmly. Nicola, who +was shoe-cobbling by the window, nodded his head in assent. + +"Twelve years have I lived in this house," went on Karl, lifting his +eyes and his snuff-box towards the ceiling, "and before God I can say +that I have loved them, and worked for them, even more than if they had +been my own children. You recollect, Nicola, when Woloda had the fever? +You recollect how, for nine days and nights, I never closed my eyes as +I sat beside his bed? Yes, at that time I was 'the dear, good Karl +Ivanitch'--I was wanted then; but now"--and he smiled ironically--"the +children are growing up, and must go to study in earnest. Perhaps they +never learnt anything with me, Nicola? Eh?" + +"I am sure they did," replied Nicola, laying his awl down and +straightening a piece of thread with his hands. + +"No, I am wanted no longer, and am to be turned out. What good are +promises and gratitude? Natalia Nicolaevna"--here he laid his hand upon +his heart--"I love and revere, but what can SHE I do here? Her will is +powerless in this house." + +He flung a strip of leather on the floor with an angry gesture. "Yet I +know who has been playing tricks here, and why I am no longer wanted. It +is because I do not flatter and toady as certain people do. I am in +the habit of speaking the truth in all places and to all persons," he +continued proudly, "God be with these children, for my leaving them will +benefit them little, whereas I--well, by God's help I may be able to +earn a crust of bread somewhere. Nicola, eh?" + +Nicola raised his head and looked at Karl as though to consider whether +he would indeed be able to earn a crust of bread, but he said nothing. +Karl said a great deal more of the same kind--in particular how much +better his services had been appreciated at a certain general's where +he had formerly lived (I regretted to hear that). Likewise he spoke of +Saxony, his parents, his friend the tailor, Schonheit (beauty), and so +on. + +I sympathised with his distress, and felt dreadfully sorry that he and +Papa (both of whom I loved about equally) had had a difference. Then I +returned to my corner, crouched down upon my heels, and fell to thinking +how a reconciliation between them might be effected. + +Returning to the study, Karl ordered me to get up and prepare to write +from dictation. When I was ready he sat down with a dignified air in +his arm-chair, and in a voice which seemed to come from a profound abyss +began to dictate: "Von al-len Lei-den-shaf-ten die grau-samste ist. Have +you written that?" He paused, took a pinch of snuff, and began again: +"Die grausamste ist die Un-dank-bar-keit [The most cruel of all passions +is ingratitude.] a capital U, mind." + +The last word written, I looked at him, for him to go on. + +"Punctum" (stop), he concluded, with a faintly perceptible smile, as he +signed to us to hand him our copy-books. + +Several times, and in several different tones, and always with an +expression of the greatest satisfaction, did he read out that sentence, +which expressed his predominant thought at the moment, Then he set us +to learn a lesson in history, and sat down near the window. His face did +not look so depressed now, but, on the contrary, expressed eloquently +the satisfaction of a man who had avenged himself for an injury dealt +him. + +By this time it was a quarter to one o'clock, but Karl Ivanitch never +thought of releasing us, He merely set us a new lesson to learn. My +fatigue and hunger were increasing in equal proportions, so that I +eagerly followed every sign of the approach of luncheon. First came the +housemaid with a cloth to wipe the plates, Next, the sound of crockery +resounded in the dining-room, as the table was moved and chairs placed +round it, After that, Mimi, Lubotshka, and Katenka. (Katenka was Mimi's +daughter, and twelve years old) came in from the garden, but Foka (the +servant who always used to come and announce luncheon) was not yet to be +seen. Only when he entered was it lawful to throw one's books aside and +run downstairs. + +Hark! Steps resounded on the staircase, but they were not Foka's. Foka's +I had learnt to study, and knew the creaking of his boots well. The door +opened, and a figure unknown to me made its appearance. + + + + +V -- THE IDIOT + +The man who now entered the room was about fifty years old, with a pale, +attenuated face pitted with smallpox, long grey hair, and a scanty beard +of a reddish hue. Likewise he was so tall that, on coming through the +doorway, he was forced not only to bend his head, but to incline his +whole body forward. He was dressed in a sort of smock that was much +torn, and held in his hand a stout staff. As he entered he smote this +staff upon the floor, and, contracting his brows and opening his mouth +to its fullest extent, laughed in a dreadful, unnatural way. He had lost +the sight of one eye, and its colourless pupil kept rolling about and +imparting to his hideous face an even more repellent expression than it +otherwise bore. + +"Hullo, you are caught!" he exclaimed as he ran to Woloda with little +short steps and, seizing him round the head, looked at it searchingly. +Next he left him, went to the table, and, with a perfectly serious +expression on his face, began to blow under the oil-cloth, and to make +the sign of the cross over it, "O-oh, what a pity! O-oh, how it hurts! +They are angry! They fly from me!" he exclaimed in a tearful choking +voice as he glared at Woloda and wiped away the streaming tears with his +sleeve, His voice was harsh and rough, all his movements hysterical and +spasmodic, and his words devoid of sense or connection (for he used no +conjunctions). Yet the tone of that voice was so heartrending, and his +yellow, deformed face at times so sincere and pitiful in its expression, +that, as one listened to him, it was impossible to repress a mingled +sensation of pity, grief, and fear. + +This was the idiot Grisha. Whence he had come, or who were his parents, +or what had induced him to choose the strange life which he led, no +one ever knew. All that I myself knew was that from his fifteenth year +upwards he had been known as an imbecile who went barefooted both in +winter and summer, visited convents, gave little images to any one who +cared to take them, and spoke meaningless words which some people took +for prophecies; that nobody remembered him as being different; that at, +rate intervals he used to call at Grandmamma's house; and that by some +people he was said to be the outcast son of rich parents and a pure, +saintly soul, while others averred that he was a mere peasant and an +idler. + +At last the punctual and wished-for Foka arrived, and we went +downstairs. Grisha followed us sobbing and continuing to talk nonsense, +and knocking his staff on each step of the staircase. When we entered +the drawing-room we found Papa and Mamma walking up and down there, with +their hands clasped in each other's, and talking in low tones. Maria +Ivanovna was sitting bolt upright in an arm-chair placed at tight angles +to the sofa, and giving some sort of a lesson to the two girls sitting +beside her. When Karl Ivanitch entered the room she looked at him for a +moment, and then turned her eyes away with an expression which seemed to +say, "You are beneath my notice, Karl Ivanitch." It was easy to see from +the girls' eyes that they had important news to communicate to us as +soon as an opportunity occurred (for to leave their seats and approach +us first was contrary to Mimi's rules). It was for us to go to her +and say, "Bon jour, Mimi," and then make her a low bow; after which we +should possibly be permitted to enter into conversation with the girls. + +What an intolerable creature that Mimi was! One could hardly say a word +in her presence without being found fault with. Also whenever we wanted +to speak in Russian, she would say, "Parlez, donc, francais," as though +on purpose to annoy us, while, if there was any particularly nice +dish at luncheon which we wished to enjoy in peace, she would keep on +ejaculating, "Mangez, donc, avec du pain!" or, "Comment est-ce que vous +tenez votre fourchette?" "What has SHE got to do with us?" I used to +think to myself. "Let her teach the girls. WE have our Karl Ivanitch." I +shared to the full his dislike of "certain people." + +"Ask Mamma to let us go hunting too," Katenka whispered to me, as she +caught me by the sleeve just when the elders of the family were making a +move towards the dining-room. + +"Very well. I will try." + +Grisha likewise took a seat in the dining-room, but at a little table +apart from the rest. He never lifted his eyes from his plate, but kept +on sighing and making horrible grimaces, as he muttered to himself: +"What a pity! It has flown away! The dove is flying to heaven! The stone +lies on the tomb!" and so forth. + +Ever since the morning Mamma had been absent-minded, and Grisha's +presence, words, and actions seemed to make her more so. + +"By the way, there is something I forgot to ask you," she said, as she +handed Papa a plate of soup. + +"What is it?" + +"That you will have those dreadful dogs of yours tied up, They nearly +worried poor Grisha to death when he entered the courtyard, and I am +sure they will bite the children some day." + +No sooner did Grisha hear himself mentioned that he turned towards our +table and showed us his torn clothes. Then, as he went on with his meal, +he said: "He would have let them tear me in pieces, but God would not +allow it! What a sin to let the dogs loose--a great sin! But do not beat +him, master; do not beat him! It is for God to forgive! It is past now!" + +"What does he say?" said Papa, looking at him gravely and sternly. "I +cannot understand him at all." + +"I think he is saying," replied Mamma, "that one of the huntsmen set +the dogs on him, but that God would not allow him to be torn in pieces, +Therefore he begs you not to punish the man." + +"Oh, is that it?" said Papa, "How does he know that I intended to +punish the huntsman? You know, I am not very fond of fellows like this," +he added in French, "and this one offends me particularly. Should it +ever happen that--" + +"Oh, don't say so," interrupted Mamma, as if frightened by some thought. +"How can you know what he is?" + +"I think I have plenty of opportunities for doing so, since no lack of +them come to see you--all of them the same sort, and probably all with +the same story." + +I could see that Mamma's opinion differed from his, but that she did not +mean to quarrel about it. + +"Please hand me the cakes," she said to him, "Are they good to-day or +not?" + +"Yes, I AM angry," he went on as he took the cakes and put them where +Mamma could not reach them, "very angry at seeing supposedly reasonable +and educated people let themselves be deceived," and he struck the table +with his fork. + +"I asked you to hand me the cakes," she repeated with outstretched hand. + +"And it is a good thing," Papa continued as he put the hand aside, "that +the police run such vagabonds in. All they are good for is to play upon +the nerves of certain people who are already not over-strong in +that respect," and he smiled, observing that Mamma did not like the +conversation at all. However, he handed her the cakes. + +"All that I have to say," she replied, "is that one can hardly believe +that a man who, though sixty years of age, goes barefooted winter and +summer, and always wears chains of two pounds' weight, and never +accepts the offers made to him to live a quiet, comfortable life--it is +difficult to believe that such a man should act thus out of laziness." +Pausing a moment, she added with a sigh: "As to predictions, je suis +payee pour y croire, I told you, I think, that Grisha prophesied the +very day and hour of poor Papa's death?" + +"Oh, what HAVE you gone and done?" said Papa, laughing and putting his +hand to his cheek (whenever he did this I used to look for something +particularly comical from him). "Why did you call my attention to his +feet? I looked at them, and now can eat nothing more." + +Luncheon was over now, and Lubotshka and Katenka were winking at us, +fidgeting about in their chairs, and showing great restlessness. The +winking, of course, signified, "Why don't you ask whether we too may go +to the hunt?" I nudged Woloda, and Woloda nudged me back, until at last +I took heart of grace, and began (at first shyly, but gradually with +more assurance) to ask if it would matter much if the girls too were +allowed to enjoy the sport. Thereupon a consultation was held among the +elder folks, and eventually leave was granted--Mamma, to make things +still more delightful, saying that she would come too. + + + + +VI -- PREPARATIONS FOR THE CHASE + +During dessert Jakoff had been sent for, and orders given him to have +ready the carriage, the hounds, and the saddle-horses--every detail +being minutely specified, and every horse called by its own particular +name. As Woloda's usual mount was lame, Papa ordered a "hunter" to be +saddled for him; which term, "hunter" so horrified Mamma's ears, that +she imagined it to be some kind of an animal which would at once run +away and bring about Woloda's death. Consequently, in spite of all +Papa's and Woloda's assurances (the latter glibly affirming that it was +nothing, and that he liked his horse to go fast), poor Mamma continued +to exclaim that her pleasure would be quite spoilt for her. + +When luncheon was over, the grown-ups had coffee in the study, while +we younger ones ran into the garden and went chattering along the +undulating paths with their carpet of yellow leaves. We talked about +Woloda's riding a hunter and said what a shame it was that Lubotshka, +could not run as fast as Katenka, and what fun it would be if we could +see Grisha's chains, and so forth; but of the impending separation +we said not a word. Our chatter was interrupted by the sound of the +carriage driving up, with a village urchin perched on each of its +springs. Behind the carriage rode the huntsmen with the hounds, and +they, again, were followed by the groom Ignat on the steed intended +for Woloda, with my old horse trotting alongside. After running to +the garden fence to get a sight of all these interesting objects, and +indulging in a chorus of whistling and hallooing, we rushed upstairs to +dress--our one aim being to make ourselves look as like the huntsmen as +possible. The obvious way to do this was to tuck one's breeches inside +one's boots. We lost no time over it all, for we were in a hurry to run +to the entrance steps again there to feast our eyes upon the horses and +hounds, and to have a chat with the huntsmen. The day was exceedingly +warm while, though clouds of fantastic shape had been gathering on the +horizon since morning and driving before a light breeze across the sun, +it was clear that, for all their menacing blackness, they did not +really intend to form a thunderstorm and spoil our last day's pleasure. +Moreover, towards afternoon some of them broke, grew pale and elongated, +and sank to the horizon again, while others of them changed to the +likeness of white transparent fish-scales. In the east, over Maslovska, +a single lurid mass was louring, but Karl Ivanitch (who always seemed to +know the ways of the heavens) said that the weather would still continue +to be fair and dry. + +In spite of his advanced years, it was in quite a sprightly manner that +Foka came out to the entrance steps, to give the order "Drive up." +In fact, as he planted his legs firmly apart and took up his station +between the lowest step and the spot where the coachman was to halt, +his mien was that of a man who knew his duties and had no need to be +reminded of them by anybody. Presently the ladies, also came out, and +after a little discussions as to seats and the safety of the girls (all +of which seemed to me wholly superfluous), they settled themselves in +the vehicle, opened their parasols, and started. As the carriage was, +driving away, Mamma pointed to the hunter and asked nervously "Is that +the horse intended for Vladimir Petrovitch?" On the groom answering +in the affirmative, she raised her hands in horror and turned her head +away. As for myself, I was burning with impatience. Clambering on to +the back of my steed (I was just tall enough to see between its ears), I +proceeded to perform evolutions in the courtyard. + +"Mind you don't ride over the hounds, sir," said one of the huntsmen. + +"Hold your tongue, It is not the first time I have been one of the +party." I retorted with dignity. + +Although Woloda had plenty of pluck, he was not altogether free from +apprehensions as he sat on the hunter. Indeed, he more than once asked +as he patted it, "Is he quiet?" He looked very well on horseback--almost +a grown-up young man, and held himself so upright in the saddle that I +envied him since my shadow seemed to show that I could not compare with +him in looks. + +Presently Papa's footsteps sounded on the flagstones, the whip collected +the hounds, and the huntsmen mounted their steeds. Papa's horse came up +in charge of a groom, the hounds of his particular leash sprang up from +their picturesque attitudes to fawn upon him, and Milka, in a collar +studded with beads, came bounding joyfully from behind his heels to +greet and sport with the other dogs. Finally, as soon as Papa had +mounted we rode away. + + + + +VII -- THE HUNT + +AT the head of the cavalcade rode Turka, on a hog-backed roan. On his +head he wore a shaggy cap, while, with a magnificent horn slung across +his shoulders and a knife at his belt, he looked so cruel and inexorable +that one would have thought he was going to engage in bloody strife with +his fellow men rather than to hunt a small animal. Around the hind legs +of his horse the hounds gambolled like a cluster of checkered, restless +balls. If one of them wished to stop, it was only with the greatest +difficulty that it could do so, since not only had its leash-fellow +also to be induced to halt, but at once one of the huntsmen would wheel +round, crack his whip, and shout to the delinquent, + +"Back to the pack, there!" + +Arrived at a gate, Papa told us and the huntsmen to continue our way +along the road, and then rode off across a cornfield. The harvest was at +its height. On the further side of a large, shining, yellow stretch of +cornland lay a high purple belt of forest which always figured in my +eyes as a distant, mysterious region behind which either the world ended +or an uninhabited waste began. This expanse of corn-land was dotted with +swathes and reapers, while along the lanes where the sickle had passed +could be seen the backs of women as they stooped among the tall, thick +grain or lifted armfuls of corn and rested them against the shocks. In +one corner a woman was bending over a cradle, and the whole stubble was +studded with sheaves and cornflowers. In another direction shirt-sleeved +men were standing on waggons, shaking the soil from the stalks of +sheaves, and stacking them for carrying. As soon as the foreman (dressed +in a blouse and high boots, and carrying a tally-stick) caught sight of +Papa, he hastened to take off his lamb's-wool cap and, wiping his red +head, told the women to get up. Papa's chestnut horse went trotting +along with a prancing gait as it tossed its head and swished its tail +to and fro to drive away the gadflies and countless other insects which +tormented its flanks, while his two greyhounds--their tails curved like +sickles--went springing gracefully over the stubble. Milka was always +first, but every now and then she would halt with a shake of her head +to await the whipper-in. The chatter of the peasants; the rumbling of +horses and waggons; the joyous cries of quails; the hum of insects as +they hung suspended in the motionless air; the smell of the soil and +grain and steam from our horses; the thousand different lights and +shadows which the burning sun cast upon the yellowish-white cornland; +the purple forest in the distance; the white gossamer threads which were +floating in the air or resting on the soil-all these things I observed +and heard and felt to the core. + +Arrived at the Kalinovo wood, we found the carriage awaiting us +there, with, beside it, a one-horse waggonette driven by the butler--a +waggonette in which were a tea-urn, some apparatus for making ices, and +many other attractive boxes and bundles, all packed in straw! There was +no mistaking these signs, for they meant that we were going to have tea, +fruit, and ices in the open air. This afforded us intense delight, since +to drink tea in a wood and on the grass and where none else had ever +drunk tea before seemed to us a treat beyond expressing. + +When Turka arrived at the little clearing where the carriage was +halted he took Papa's detailed instructions as to how we were to divide +ourselves and where each of us was to go (though, as a matter of fact, +he never acted according to such instructions, but always followed his +own devices). Then he unleashed the hounds, fastened the leashes to +his saddle, whistled to the pack, and disappeared among the young birch +trees the liberated hounds jumping about him in high delight, wagging +their tails, and sniffing and gambolling with one another as they +dispersed themselves in different directions. + +"Has anyone a pocket-handkerchief to spare?" asked Papa. I took mine +from my pocket and offered it to him. + +"Very well, Fasten it to this greyhound here." + +"Gizana?" I asked, with the air of a connoisseur. + +"Yes. Then run him along the road with you. When you come to a little +clearing in the wood stop and look about you, and don't come back to me +without a hare." + +Accordingly I tied my handkerchief round Gizana's soft neck, and set off +running at full speed towards the appointed spot, Papa laughing as he +shouted after me, "Hurry up, hurry up or you'll be late!" + +Every now and then Gizana kept stopping, pricking up his ears, and +listening to the hallooing of the beaters. Whenever he did this I was +not strong enough to move him, and could do no more than shout, "Come +on, come on!" Presently he set off so fast that I could not restrain +him, and I encountered more than one fall before we reached our +destination. Selecting there a level, shady spot near the roots of a +great oak-tree, I lay down on the turf, made Gizana crouch beside me, +and waited. As usual, my imagination far outstripped reality. I fancied +that I was pursuing at least my third hare when, as a matter of fact, +the first hound was only just giving tongue. Presently, however, Turka's +voice began to sound through the wood in louder and more excited tones, +the baying of a hound came nearer and nearer, and then another, and then +a third, and then a fourth, deep throat joined in the rising and falling +cadences of a chorus, until the whole had united their voices in one +continuous, tumultuous burst of melody. As the Russian proverb expresses +it, "The forest had found a tongue, and the hounds were burning as with +fire." + +My excitement was so great that I nearly swooned where I stood. My lips +parted themselves as though smiling, the perspiration poured from me in +streams, and, in spite of the tickling sensation caused by the drops as +they trickled over my chin, I never thought of wiping them away. I felt +that a crisis was approaching. Yet the tension was too unnatural to +last. Soon the hounds came tearing along the edge of the wood, and +then--behold, they were racing away from me again, and of hares there +was not a sign to be seen! I looked in every direction and Gizana did +the same--pulling at his leash at first and whining. Then he lay down +again by my side, rested his muzzle on my knees, and resigned himself to +disappointment. Among the naked roots of the oak-tree under which I was +sitting. I could see countless ants swarming over the parched grey earth +and winding among the acorns, withered oak-leaves, dry twigs, russet +moss, and slender, scanty blades of grass. In serried files they kept +pressing forward on the level track they had made for themselves--some +carrying burdens, some not. I took a piece of twig and barred their way. +Instantly it was curious to see how they made light of the obstacle. +Some got past it by creeping underneath, and some by climbing over it. A +few, however, there were (especially those weighted with loads) who were +nonplussed what to do. They either halted and searched for a way round, +or returned whence they had come, or climbed the adjacent herbage, with +the evident intention of reaching my hand and going up the sleeve of my +jacket. From this interesting spectacle my attention was distracted by +the yellow wings of a butterfly which was fluttering alluringly before +me. Yet I had scarcely noticed it before it flew away to a little +distance and, circling over some half-faded blossoms of white clover, +settled on one of them. Whether it was the sun's warmth that delighted +it, or whether it was busy sucking nectar from the flower, at all events +it seemed thoroughly comfortable. It scarcely moved its wings at all, +and pressed itself down into the clover until I could hardly see +its body. I sat with my chin on my hands and watched it with intense +interest. + +Suddenly Gizana sprang up and gave me such a violent jerk that I nearly +rolled over. I looked round. At the edge of the wood a hare had just +come into view, with one ear bent down and the other one sharply +pricked, The blood rushed to my head, and I forgot everything else as +I shouted, slipped the dog, and rushed towards the spot. Yet all was in +vain. The hare stopped, made a rush, and was lost to view. + +How confused I felt when at that moment Turka stepped from the +undergrowth (he had been following the hounds as they ran along the +edges of the wood)! He had seen my mistake (which had consisted in my +not biding my time), and now threw me a contemptuous look as he said, +"Ah, master!" And you should have heard the tone in which he said it! It +would have been a relief to me if he had then and there suspended me to +his saddle instead of the hare. For a while I could only stand miserably +where I was, without attempting to recall the dog, and ejaculate as I +slapped my knees, "Good heavens! What a fool I was!" I could hear the +hounds retreating into the distance, and baying along the further side +of the wood as they pursued the hare, while Turka rallied them with +blasts on his gorgeous horn: yet I did not stir. + + + + +VIII -- WE PLAY GAMES + +THE hunt was over, a cloth had been spread in the shade of some young +birch-trees, and the whole party was disposed around it. The butler, +Gabriel, had stamped down the surrounding grass, wiped the plates in +readiness, and unpacked from a basket a quantity of plums and peaches +wrapped in leaves. + +Through the green branches of the young birch-trees the sun glittered +and threw little glancing balls of light upon the pattern of my napkin, +my legs, and the bald moist head of Gabriel. A soft breeze played in +the leaves of the trees above us, and, breathing softly upon my hair and +heated face, refreshed me beyond measure, When we had finished the +fruit and ices, nothing remained to be done around the empty cloth, so, +despite the oblique, scorching rays of the sun, we rose and proceeded to +play. + +"Well, what shall it be?" said Lubotshka, blinking in the sunlight and +skipping about the grass, "Suppose we play Robinson?" + +"No, that's a tiresome game," objected Woloda, stretching himself lazily +on the turf and gnawing some leaves, "Always Robinson! If you want to +play at something, play at building a summerhouse." + +Woloda was giving himself tremendous airs. Probably he was proud of +having ridden the hunter, and so pretended to be very tired. Perhaps, +also, he had too much hard-headedness and too little imagination +fully to enjoy the game of Robinson. It was a game which consisted of +performing various scenes from The Swiss Family Robinson, a book which +we had recently been reading. + +"Well, but be a good boy. Why not try and please us this time?" the +girls answered. "You may be Charles or Ernest or the father, whichever +you like best," added Katenka as she tried to raise him from the ground +by pulling at his sleeve. + +"No, I'm not going to; it's a tiresome game," said Woloda again, though +smiling as if secretly pleased. + +"It would be better to sit at home than not to play at ANYTHING," +murmured Lubotshka, with tears in her eyes. She was a great weeper. + +"Well, go on, then. Only, DON'T cry; I can't stand that sort of thing." + +Woloda's condescension did not please us much. On the contrary, his +lazy, tired expression took away all the fun of the game. When we sat +on the ground and imagined that we were sitting in a boat and either +fishing or rowing with all our might, Woloda persisted in sitting with +folded hands or in anything but a fisherman's posture. I made a remark +about it, but he replied that, whether we moved our hands or not, we +should neither gain nor lose ground--certainly not advance at all, and I +was forced to agree with him. Again, when I pretended to go out hunting, +and, with a stick over my shoulder, set off into the wood, Woloda only +lay down on his back with his hands under his head, and said that he +supposed it was all the same whether he went or not. Such behaviour and +speeches cooled our ardour for the game and were very disagreeable--the +more so since it was impossible not to confess to oneself that Woloda +was right, I myself knew that it was not only impossible to kill birds +with a stick, but to shoot at all with such a weapon. Still, it was +the game, and if we were once to begin reasoning thus, it would become +equally impossible for us to go for drives on chairs. I think that even +Woloda himself cannot at that moment have forgotten how, in the long +winter evenings, we had been used to cover an arm-chair with a shawl +and make a carriage of it--one of us being the coachman, another one the +footman, the two girls the passengers, and three other chairs the trio +of horses abreast. With what ceremony we used to set out, and with what +adventures we used to meet on the way! How gaily and quickly those long +winter evenings used to pass! If we were always to judge from reality, +games would be nonsense; but if games were nonsense, what else would +there be left to do? + + + + +IX -- A FIRST ESSAY IN LOVE + +PRETENDING to gather some "American fruit" from a tree, Lubotshka +suddenly plucked a leaf upon which was a huge caterpillar, and throwing +the insect with horror to the ground, lifted her hands and sprang away +as though afraid it would spit at her. The game stopped, and we crowded +our heads together as we stooped to look at the curiosity. + +I peeped over Katenka's shoulder as she was trying to lift the +caterpillar by placing another leaf in its way. I had observed before +that the girls had a way of shrugging their shoulders whenever they were +trying to put a loose garment straight on their bare necks, as well as +that Mimi always grew angry on witnessing this manoeuvre and declared +it to be a chambermaid's trick. As Katenka bent over the caterpillar she +made that very movement, while at the same instant the breeze lifted the +fichu on her white neck. Her shoulder was close to my lips, I looked at +it and kissed it, She did not turn round, but Woloda remarked without +raising his head, "What spooniness!" I felt the tears rising to my eyes, +and could not take my gaze from Katenka. I had long been used to her +fair, fresh face, and had always been fond of her, but now I looked at +her more closely, and felt more fond of her, than I had ever done or +felt before. + +When we returned to the grown-ups, Papa informed us, to our great joy, +that, at Mamma's entreaties, our departure was to be postponed until +the following morning. We rode home beside the carriage--Woloda and +I galloping near it, and vieing with one another in our exhibition of +horsemanship and daring. My shadow looked longer now than it had done +before, and from that I judged that I had grown into a fine rider. Yet +my complacency was soon marred by an unfortunate occurrence, Desiring +to outdo Woloda before the audience in the carriage, I dropped a little +behind. Then with whip and spur I urged my steed forward, and at the +same time assumed a natural, graceful attitude, with the intention of +whooting past the carriage on the side on which Katenka was seated. My +only doubt was whether to halloo or not as I did so. In the event, my +infernal horse stopped so abruptly when just level with the carriage +horses that I was pitched forward on to its neck and cut a very sorry +figure! + + + + +X -- THE SORT OF MAN MY FATHER WAS + +Papa was a gentleman of the last century, with all the chivalrous +character, self-reliance, and gallantry of the youth of that time. Upon +the men of the present day he looked with a contempt arising partly from +inborn pride and partly from a secret feeling of vexation that, in this +age of ours, he could no longer enjoy the influence and success which +had been his in his youth. His two principal failings were gambling and +gallantry, and he had won or lost, in the course of his career, several +millions of roubles. + +Tall and of imposing figure, he walked with a curiously quick, mincing +gait, as well as had a habit of hitching one of his shoulders. His eyes +were small and perpetually twinkling, his nose large and aquiline, his +lips irregular and rather oddly (though pleasantly) compressed, his +articulation slightly defective and lisping, and his head quite bald. +Such was my father's exterior from the days of my earliest recollection. +It was an exterior which not only brought him success and made him a +man a bonnes fortunes but one which pleased people of all ranks and +stations. Especially did it please those whom he desired to please. + +At all junctures he knew how to take the lead, for, though not deriving +from the highest circles of society, he had always mixed with them, and +knew how to win their respect. He possessed in the highest degree that +measure of pride and self-confidence which, without giving offence, +maintains a man in the opinion of the world. He had much originality, +as well as the ability to use it in such a way that it benefited him as +much as actual worldly position or fortune could have done. Nothing in +the universe could surprise him, and though not of eminent attainments +in life, he seemed born to have acquired them. He understood so +perfectly how to make both himself and others forget and keep at +a distance the seamy side of life, with all its petty troubles +and vicissitudes, that it was impossible not to envy him. He was a +connoisseur in everything which could give ease and pleasure, as well +as knew how to make use of such knowledge. Likewise he prided himself on +the brilliant connections which he had formed through my mother's family +or through friends of his youth, and was secretly jealous of any one of +a higher rank than himself--any one, that is to say, of a rank higher +than a retired lieutenant of the Guards. Moreover, like all ex-officers, +he refused to dress himself in the prevailing fashion, though he attired +himself both originally and artistically--his invariable wear being +light, loose-fitting suits, very fine shirts, and large collars and +cuffs. Everything seemed to suit his upright figure and quiet, assured +air. He was sensitive to the pitch of sentimentality, and, when reading +a pathetic passage, his voice would begin to tremble and the tears to +come into his eyes, until he had to lay the book aside. Likewise he was +fond of music, and could accompany himself on the piano as he sang the +love songs of his friend A-- or gipsy songs or themes from operas; +but he had no love for serious music, and would frankly flout received +opinion by declaring that, whereas Beethoven's sonatas wearied him and +sent him to sleep, his ideal of beauty was "Do not wake me, youth" +as Semenoff sang it, or "Not one" as the gipsy Taninsha rendered that +ditty. His nature was essentially one of those which follow public +opinion concerning what is good, and consider only that good which the +public declares to be so. [It may be noted that the author has said +earlier in the chapter that his father possessed "much originality."] +God only knows whether he had any moral convictions. His life was so +full of amusement that probably he never had time to form any, and was +too successful ever to feel the lack of them. + +As he grew to old age he looked at things always from a fixed point +of view, and cultivated fixed rules--but only so long as that point or +those rules coincided with expediency, The mode of life which offered +some passing degree of interest--that, in his opinion, was the right +one and the only one that men ought to affect. He had great fluency of +argument; and this, I think, increased the adaptability of his morals +and enabled him to speak of one and the same act, now as good, and now, +with abuse, as abominable. + + + + +XI -- IN THE DRAWING-ROOM AND THE STUDY + +Twilight had set in when we reached home. Mamma sat down to the piano, +and we to a table, there to paint and draw in colours and pencil. Though +I had only one cake of colour, and it was blue, I determined to draw a +picture of the hunt. In exceedingly vivid fashion I painted a blue boy +on a blue horse, and--but here I stopped, for I was uncertain whether +it was possible also to paint a blue HARE. I ran to the study to consult +Papa, and as he was busy reading he never lifted his eyes from his book +when I asked, "Can there be blue hares?" but at once replied, "There +can, my boy, there can." Returning to the table I painted in my blue +hare, but subsequently thought it better to change it into a blue bush. +Yet the blue bush did not wholly please me, so I changed it into a tree, +and then into a rick, until, the whole paper having now become one blur +of blue, I tore it angrily in pieces, and went off to meditate in the +large arm-chair. + +Mamma was playing Field's second concerto. Field, it may be said, had +been her master. As I dozed, the music brought up before my imagination +a kind of luminosity, with transparent dream-shapes. Next she played the +"Sonate Pathetique" of Beethoven, and I at once felt heavy, depressed, +and apprehensive. Mamma often played those two pieces, and therefore I +well recollect the feelings they awakened in me. Those feelings were a +reminiscence--of what? Somehow I seemed to remember something which had +never been. + +Opposite to me lay the study door, and presently I saw Jakoff enter it, +accompanied by several long-bearded men in kaftans. Then the door shut +again. + +"Now they are going to begin some business or other," I thought. I +believed the affairs transacted in that study to be the most important +ones on earth. This opinion was confirmed by the fact that people only +approached the door of that room on tiptoe and speaking in whispers. +Presently Papa's resonant voice sounded within, and I also scented +cigar smoke--always a very attractive thing to me. Next, as I dozed, I +suddenly heard a creaking of boots that I knew, and, sure enough, +saw Karl Ivanitch go on tiptoe, and with a depressed, but resolute, +expression on his face and a written document in his hand, to the study +door and knock softly. It opened, and then shut again behind him. + +"I hope nothing is going to happen," I mused. "Karl Ivanitch is +offended, and might be capable of anything--" and again I dozed off. + +Nevertheless something DID happen. An hour later I was disturbed by +the same creaking of boots, and saw Karl come out, and disappear up +the stairs, wiping away a few tears from his cheeks with his pocket +handkerchief as he went and muttering something between his teeth. Papa +came out behind him and turned aside into the drawing-room. + +"Do you know what I have just decided to do?" he asked gaily as he laid +a hand upon Mamma's shoulder. + +"What, my love?" + +"To take Karl Ivanitch with the children. There will be room enough for +him in the carriage. They are used to him, and he seems greatly attached +to them. Seven hundred roubles a year cannot make much difference to us, +and the poor devil is not at all a bad sort of a fellow." I could not +understand why Papa should speak of him so disrespectfully. + +"I am delighted," said Mamma, "and as much for the children's sake as +his own. He is a worthy old man." + +"I wish you could have seen how moved he was when I told him that he +might look upon the 500 roubles as a present! But the most amusing thing +of all is this bill which he has just handed me. It is worth +seeing," and with a smile Papa gave Mamma a paper inscribed in Karl's +handwriting. "Is it not capital?" he concluded. + +The contents of the paper were as follows: [The joke of this bill +consists chiefly in its being written in very bad Russian, with +continual mistakes as to plural and singular, prepositions and so +forth.] + +"Two book for the children--70 copeck. Coloured paper, gold frames, and +a pop-guns, blockheads [This word has a double meaning in Russian.] for +cutting out several box for presents--6 roubles, 55 copecks. Several +book and a bows, presents for the childrens--8 roubles, 16 copecks. A +gold watches promised to me by Peter Alexandrovitch out of Moscow, in +the years 18-- for 140 roubles. Consequently Karl Mayer have to receive +139 rouble, 79 copecks, beside his wage." + +If people were to judge only by this bill (in which Karl Ivanitch +demanded repayment of all the money he had spent on presents, as well as +the value of a present promised to himself), they would take him to have +been a callous, avaricious egotist yet they would be wrong. + +It appears that he had entered the study with the paper in his hand and +a set speech in his head, for the purpose of declaiming eloquently to +Papa on the subject of the wrongs which he believed himself to have +suffered in our house, but that, as soon as ever he began to speak in +the vibratory voice and with the expressive intonations which he used in +dictating to us, his eloquence wrought upon himself more than upon Papa; +with the result that, when he came to the point where he had to say, +"however sad it will be for me to part with the children," he lost his +self-command utterly, his articulation became choked, and he was obliged +to draw his coloured pocket-handkerchief from his pocket. + +"Yes, Peter Alexandrovitch," he said, weeping (this formed no part of +the prepared speech), "I am grown so used to the children that I cannot +think what I should do without them. I would rather serve you without +salary than not at all," and with one hand he wiped his eyes, while with +the other he presented the bill. + +Although I am convinced that at that moment Karl Ivanitch was speaking +with absolute sincerity (for I know how good his heart was), I confess +that never to this day have I been able quite to reconcile his words +with the bill. + +"Well, if the idea of leaving us grieves you, you may be sure that the +idea of dismissing you grieves me equally," said Papa, tapping him on +the shoulder. Then, after a pause, he added, "But I have changed my +mind, and you shall not leave us." + +Just before supper Grisha entered the room. Ever since he had entered +the house that day he had never ceased to sigh and weep--a portent, +according to those who believed in his prophetic powers, that misfortune +was impending for the household. He had now come to take leave of us, +for to-morrow (so he said) he must be moving on. I nudged Woloda, and we +moved towards the door. + +"What is the matter?" he said. + +"This--that if we want to see Grisha's chains we must go upstairs at +once to the men-servants' rooms. Grisha is to sleep in the second one, +so we can sit in the store-room and see everything." + +"All right. Wait here, and I'll tell the girls." + +The girls came at once, and we ascended the stairs, though the question +as to which of us should first enter the store-room gave us some little +trouble. Then we cowered down and waited. + + + + +XII -- GRISHA + +WE all felt a little uneasy in the thick darkness, so we pressed close +to one another and said nothing. Before long Grisha arrived with his +soft tread, carrying in one hand his staff and in the other a tallow +candle set in a brass candlestick. We scarcely ventured to breathe. + +"Our Lord Jesus Christ! Holy Mother of God! Father, Son, and Holy +Ghost!" he kept repeating, with the different intonations and +abbreviations which gradually become peculiar to persons who are +accustomed to pronounce the words with great frequency. + +Still praying, he placed his staff in a corner and looked at the bed; +after which he began to undress. Unfastening his old black girdle, he +slowly divested himself of his torn nankeen kaftan, and deposited +it carefully on the back of a chair. His face had now lost its usual +disquietude and idiocy. On the contrary, it had in it something restful, +thoughtful, and even grand, while all his movements were deliberate and +intelligent. + +Next, he lay down quietly in his shirt on the bed, made the sign of the +cross towards every side of him, and adjusted his chains beneath his +shirt--an operation which, as we could see from his face, occasioned him +considerable pain. Then he sat up again, looked gravely at his ragged +shirt, and rising and taking the candle, lifted the latter towards the +shrine where the images of the saints stood. That done, he made the sign +of the cross again, and turned the candle upside down, when it went out +with a hissing noise. + +Through the window (which overlooked the wood) the moon (nearly full) +was shining in such a way that one side of the tall white figure of the +idiot stood out in the pale, silvery moonlight, while the other side was +lost in the dark shadow which covered the floor, walls, and ceiling. In +the courtyard the watchman was tapping at intervals upon his brass alarm +plate. For a while Grisha stood silently before the images and, with +his large hands pressed to his breast and his head bent forward, gave +occasional sighs. Then with difficulty he knelt down and began to pray. + +At first he repeated some well-known prayers, and only accented a word +here and there. Next, he repeated thee same prayers, but louder and +with increased accentuation. Lastly he repeated them again and with even +greater emphasis, as well as with an evident effort to pronounce them in +the old Slavonic Church dialect. Though disconnected, his prayers were +very touching. He prayed for all his benefactors (so he called every one +who had received him hospitably), with, among them, Mamma and ourselves. +Next he prayed for himself, and besought God to forgive him his sins, +at the same time repeating, "God forgive also my enemies!" Then, moaning +with the effort, he rose from his knees--only to fall to the floor again +and repeat his phrases afresh. At last he regained his feet, despite +the weight of the chains, which rattled loudly whenever they struck the +floor. + +Woloda pinched me rudely in the leg, but I took no notice of that +(except that I involuntarily touched the place with my hand), as I +observed with a feeling of childish astonishment, pity, and respect +the words and gestures of Grisha. Instead of the laughter and amusement +which I had expected on entering the store-room, I felt my heart beating +and overcome. + +Grisha continued for some time in this state of religious ecstasy as he +improvised prayers and repeated again and yet again, "Lord, have mercy +upon me!" Each time that he said, "Pardon me, Lord, and teach me to +do what Thou wouldst have done," he pronounced the words with added +earnestness and emphasis, as though he expected an immediate answer to +his petition, and then fell to sobbing and moaning once more. Finally, +he went down on his knees again, folded his arms upon his breast, and +remained silent. I ventured to put my head round the door (holding my +breath as I did so), but Grisha still made no movement except for the +heavy sighs which heaved his breast. In the moonlight I could see a tear +glistening on the white patch of his blind eye. + +"Yes, Thy will be done!" he exclaimed suddenly, with an expression which +I cannot describe, as, prostrating himself with his forehead on the +floor, he fell to sobbing like a child. + +Much sand has run out since then, many recollections of the past have +faded from my memory or become blurred in indistinct visions, and poor +Grisha himself has long since reached the end of his pilgrimage; but the +impression which he produced upon me, and the feelings which he aroused +in my breast, will never leave my mind. O truly Christian Grisha, your +faith was so strong that you could feel the actual presence of God; your +love so great that the words fell of themselves from your lips. You had +no reason to prove them, for you did so with your earnest praises of His +majesty as you fell to the ground speechless and in tears! + +Nevertheless the sense of awe with which I had listened to Grisha could +not last for ever. I had now satisfied my curiosity, and, being cramped +with sitting in one position so long, desired to join in the tittering +and fun which I could hear going on in the dark store-room behind me. +Some one took my hand and whispered, "Whose hand is this?" Despite the +darkness, I knew by the touch and the low voice in my ear that it was +Katenka. I took her by the arm, but she withdrew it, and, in doing so, +pushed a cane chair which was standing near. Grisha lifted his head +looked quietly about him, and, muttering a prayer, rose and made the +sign of the cross towards each of the four corners of the room. + + + + +XIII -- NATALIA SAVISHNA + +In days gone by there used to run about the seignorial courtyard of the +country-house at Chabarovska a girl called Natashka. She always wore a +cotton dress, went barefooted, and was rosy, plump, and gay. It was at +the request and entreaties of her father, the clarionet player Savi, +that my grandfather had "taken her upstairs"--that is to say, made +her one of his wife's female servants. As chamber-maid, Natashka so +distinguished herself by her zeal and amiable temper that when Mamma +arrived as a baby and required a nurse Natashka was honoured with the +charge of her. In this new office the girl earned still further praises +and rewards for her activity, trustworthiness, and devotion to her young +mistress. Soon, however, the powdered head and buckled shoes of the +young and active footman Foka (who had frequent opportunities of +courting her, since they were in the same service) captivated her +unsophisticated, but loving, heart. At last she ventured to go and ask +my grandfather if she might marry Foka, but her master took the request +in bad part, flew into a passion, and punished poor Natashka by exiling +her to a farm which he owned in a remote quarter of the Steppes. At +length, when she had been gone six months and nobody could be found to +replace her, she was recalled to her former duties. Returned, and with +her dress in rags, she fell at Grandpapa's feet, and besought him to +restore her his favour and kindness, and to forget the folly of which +she had been guilty--folly which, she assured him, should never recur +again. And she kept her word. + +From that time forth she called herself, not Natashka, but Natalia +Savishna, and took to wearing a cap, All the love in her heart was now +bestowed upon her young charge. When Mamma had a governess appointed +for her education, Natalia was awarded the keys as housekeeper, and +henceforth had the linen and provisions under her care. These new duties +she fulfilled with equal fidelity and zeal. She lived only for her +master's advantage. Everything in which she could detect fraud, +extravagance, or waste she endeavoured to remedy to the best of her +power. When Mamma married and wished in some way to reward Natalia +Savishna for her twenty years of care and labour, she sent for her and, +voicing in the tenderest terms her attachment and love, presented +her with a stamped charter of her (Natalia's) freedom, [It will be +remembered that this was in the days of serfdom] telling her at the same +time that, whether she continued to serve in the household or not, she +should always receive an annual pension Of 300 roubles. Natalia listened +in silence to this. Then, taking the document in her hands and regarding +it with a frown, she muttered something between her teeth, and darted +from the room, slamming the door behind her. Not understanding the +reason for such strange conduct, Mamma followed her presently to her +room, and found her sitting with streaming eyes on her trunk, crushing +her pocket-handkerchief between her fingers, and looking mournfully +at the remains of the document, which was lying torn to pieces on the +floor. + +"What is the matter, dear Natalia Savishna?" said Mamma, taking her +hand. + +"Nothing, ma'am," she replied; "only--only I must have displeased you +somehow, since you wish to dismiss me from the house. Well, I will go." + +She withdrew her hand and, with difficulty restraining her tears, rose +to leave the room, but Mamma stopped her, and they wept a while in one +another's arms. + +Ever since I can remember anything I can remember Natalia Savishna and +her love and tenderness; yet only now have I learnt to appreciate them +at their full value. In early days it never occurred to me to think what +a rare and wonderful being this old domestic was. Not only did she never +talk, but she seemed never even to think, of herself. Her whole life +was compounded of love and self-sacrifice. Yet so used was I to her +affection and singleness of heart that I could not picture things +otherwise. I never thought of thanking her, or of asking myself, "Is she +also happy? Is she also contented?" Often on some pretext or another I +would leave my lessons and run to her room, where, sitting down, I +would begin to muse aloud as though she were not there. She was forever +mending something, or tidying the shelves which lined her room, +or marking linen, so that she took no heed of the nonsense which I +talked--how that I meant to become a general, to marry a beautiful +woman, to buy a chestnut horse, to, build myself a house of glass, to +invite Karl Ivanitch's relatives to come and visit me from Saxony, and +so forth; to all of which she would only reply, "Yes, my love, yes." +Then, on my rising, and preparing to go, she would open a blue trunk +which had pasted on the inside of its lid a coloured picture of a hussar +which had once adorned a pomade bottle and a sketch made by Woloda, and +take from it a fumigation pastille, which she would light and shake for +my benefit, saying: + +"These, dear, are the pastilles which your grandfather (now in Heaven) +brought back from Otchakov after fighting against the Turks." Then she +would add with a sigh: "But this is nearly the last one." + +The trunks which filled her room seemed to contain almost everything in +the world. Whenever anything was wanted, people said, "Oh, go and ask +Natalia Savishna for it," and, sure enough, it was seldom that she did +not produce the object required and say, "See what comes of taking care +of everything!" Her trunks contained thousands of things which nobody in +the house but herself would have thought of preserving. + +Once I lost my temper with her. This was how it happened. + +One day after luncheon I poured myself out a glass of kvass, and then +dropped the decanter, and so stained the tablecloth. + +"Go and call Natalia, that she may come and see what her darling has +done," said Mamma. + +Natalia arrived, and shook her head at me when she saw the damage I had +done; but Mamma whispered something in her car, threw a look at myself, +and then left the room. + +I was just skipping away, in the sprightliest mood possible, when +Natalia darted out upon me from behind the door with the tablecloth in +her hand, and, catching hold of me, rubbed my face hard with the stained +part of it, repeating, "Don't thou go and spoil tablecloths any more!" + +I struggled hard, and roared with temper. + +"What?" I said to myself as I fled to the drawing-room in a mist of +tears, "To think that Natalia Savishna-just plain Natalia-should say +'THOU' to me and rub my face with a wet tablecloth as though I were a +mere servant-boy! It is abominable!" + +Seeing my fury, Natalia departed, while I continued to strut about and +plan how to punish the bold woman for her offence. Yet not more than a +few moments had passed when Natalia returned and, stealing to my side, +began to comfort me, + +"Hush, then, my love. Do not cry. Forgive me my rudeness. It was wrong +of me. You WILL pardon me, my darling, will you not? There, there, +that's a dear," and she took from her handkerchief a cornet of pink +paper containing two little cakes and a grape, and offered it me with +a trembling hand. I could not look the kind old woman in the face, but, +turning aside, took the paper, while my tears flowed the faster--though +from love and shame now, not from anger. + + + + +XIV -- THE PARTING + +ON the day after the events described, the carriage and the luggage-cart +drew up to the door at noon. Nicola, dressed for the journey, with his +breeches tucked into his boots and an old overcoat belted tightly about +him with a girdle, got into the cart and arranged cloaks and cushions on +the seats. When he thought that they were piled high enough he sat down +on them, but finding them still unsatisfactory, jumped up and arranged +them once more. + +"Nicola Dimitvitch, would you be so good as to take master's +dressing-case with you?" said Papa's valet, suddenly standing up in the +carriage, "It won't take up much room." + +"You should have told me before, Michael Ivanitch," answered Nicola +snappishly as he hurled a bundle with all his might to the floor of the +cart. "Good gracious! Why, when my head is going round like a whirlpool, +there you come along with your dressing-case!" and he lifted his cap to +wipe away the drops of perspiration from his sunburnt brow. + +The courtyard was full of bareheaded peasants in kaftans or simple +shirts, women clad in the national dress and wearing striped +handkerchiefs, and barefooted little ones--the latter holding their +mothers' hands or crowding round the entrance-steps. All were chattering +among themselves as they stared at the carriage. One of the postillions, +an old man dressed in a winter cap and cloak, took hold of the pole of +the carriage and tried it carefully, while the other postillion (a +young man in a white blouse with pink gussets on the sleeves and a black +lamb's-wool cap which he kept cocking first on one side and then on the +other as he arranged his flaxen hair) laid his overcoat upon the box, +slung the reins over it, and cracked his thonged whip as he looked now +at his boots and now at the other drivers where they stood greasing the +wheels of the cart--one driver lifting up each wheel in turn and the +other driver applying the grease. Tired post-horses of various hues +stood lashing away flies with their tails near the gate--some stamping +their great hairy legs, blinking their eyes, and dozing, some leaning +wearily against their neighbours, and others cropping the leaves and +stalks of dark-green fern which grew near the entrance-steps. Some of +the dogs were lying panting in the sun, while others were slinking under +the vehicles to lick the grease from the wheels. The air was filled with +a sort of dusty mist, and the horizon was lilac-grey in colour, though +no clouds were to be seen, A strong wind from the south was raising +volumes of dust from the roads and fields, shaking the poplars and +birch-trees in the garden, and whirling their yellow leaves away. I +myself was sitting at a window and waiting impatiently for these various +preparations to come to an end. + +As we sat together by the drawing-room table, to pass the last few +moments en famille, it never occurred to me that a sad moment was +impending. On the contrary, the most trivial thoughts were filling my +brain. Which driver was going to drive the carriage and which the cart? +Which of us would sit with Papa, and which with Karl Ivanitch? Why must +I be kept forever muffled up in a scarf and padded boots? + +"Am I so delicate? Am I likely to be frozen?" I thought to myself. +"I wish it would all come to an end, and we could take our seats and +start." + +"To whom shall I give the list of the children's linen?" asked Natalia +Savishna of Mamma as she entered the room with a paper in her hand and +her eyes red with weeping. + +"Give it to Nicola, and then return to say good-bye to them," replied +Mamma. The old woman seemed about to say something more, but suddenly +stopped short, covered her face with her handkerchief, and left the +room. Something seemed to prick at my heart when I saw that gesture of +hers, but impatience to be off soon drowned all other feeling, and +I continued to listen indifferently to Papa and Mamma as they talked +together. They were discussing subjects which evidently interested +neither of them. What must be bought for the house? What would Princess +Sophia or Madame Julie say? Would the roads be good?--and so forth. + +Foka entered, and in the same tone and with the same air as though he +were announcing luncheon said, "The carriages are ready." I saw Mamma +tremble and turn pale at the announcement, just as though it were +something unexpected. + +Next, Foka was ordered to shut all the doors of the room. This amused +me highly. As though we needed to be concealed from some one! When +every one else was seated, Foka took the last remaining chair. Scarcely, +however, had he done so when the door creaked and every one looked that +way. Natalia Savishna entered hastily, and, without raising her eyes, +sat own on the same chair as Foka. I can see them before me now-Foka's +bald head and wrinkled, set face, and, beside him, a bent, kind figure +in a cap from beneath which a few grey hairs were straggling. The pair +settled themselves together on the chair, but neither of them looked +comfortable. + +I continued preoccupied and impatient. In fact, the ten minutes during +which we sat there with closed doors seemed to me an hour. At last every +one rose, made the sign of the cross, and began to say good-bye. Papa +embraced Mamma, and kissed her again and again. + +"But enough," he said presently. "We are not parting for ever." + +"No, but it is-so-so sad!" replied Mamma, her voice trembling with +emotion. + +When I heard that faltering voice, and saw those quivering lips and +tear-filled eyes, I forgot everything else in the world. I felt so ill +and miserable that I would gladly have run away rather than bid +her farewell. I felt, too, that when she was embracing Papa she was +embracing us all. She clasped Woloda to her several times, and made the +sign of the cross over him; after which I approached her, thinking that +it was my turn. Nevertheless she took him again and again to her heart, +and blessed him. Finally I caught hold of her, and, clinging to her, +wept--wept, thinking of nothing in the world but my grief. + +As we passed out to take our seats, other servants pressed round us in +the hall to say good-bye. Yet their requests to shake hands with +us, their resounding kisses on our shoulders, [The fashion in which +inferiors salute their superiors in Russia.] and the odour of their +greasy heads only excited in me a feeling akin to impatience with these +tiresome people. The same feeling made me bestow nothing more than a +very cross kiss upon Natalia's cap when she approached to take leave of +me. It is strange that I should still retain a perfect recollection of +these servants' faces, and be able to draw them with the most minute +accuracy in my mind, while Mamma's face and attitude escape me entirely. +It may be that it is because at that moment I had not the heart to look +at her closely. I felt that if I did so our mutual grief would burst +forth too unrestrainedly. + +I was the first to jump into the carriage and to take one of the hinder +seats. The high back of the carriage prevented me from actually seeing +her, yet I knew by instinct that Mamma was still there. + +"Shall I look at her again or not?" I said to myself. "Well, just for +the last time," and I peeped out towards the entrance-steps. Exactly at +that moment Mamma moved by the same impulse, came to the opposite side +of the carriage, and called me by name. Rearing her voice behind me. I +turned round, but so hastily that our heads knocked together. She gave a +sad smile, and kissed me convulsively for the last time. + +When we had driven away a few paces I determined to look at her once +more. The wind was lifting the blue handkerchief from her head as, bent +forward and her face buried in her hands, she moved slowly up the steps. +Foka was supporting her. Papa said nothing as he sat beside me. I felt +breathless with tears--felt a sensation in my throat as though I were +going to choke, just as we came out on to the open road I saw a white +handkerchief waving from the terrace. I waved mine in return, and the +action of so doing calmed me a little. I still went on crying, but the +thought that my tears were a proof of my affection helped to soothe and +comfort me. + +After a little while I began to recover, and to look with interest at +objects which we passed and at the hind-quarters of the led horse which +was trotting on my side. I watched how it would swish its tail, how it +would lift one hoof after the other, how the driver's thong would fall +upon its back, and how all its legs would then seem to jump together and +the back-band, with the rings on it, to jump too--the whole covered with +the horse's foam. Then I would look at the rolling stretches of ripe +corn, at the dark ploughed fields where ploughs and peasants and horses +with foals were working, at their footprints, and at the box of the +carriage to see who was driving us; until, though my face was still wet +with tears, my thoughts had strayed far from her with whom I had just +parted--parted, perhaps, for ever. Yet ever and again something would +recall her to my memory. I remembered too how, the evening before, I +had found a mushroom under the birch-trees, how Lubotshka had quarrelled +with Katenka as to whose it should be, and how they had both of them +wept when taking leave of us. I felt sorry to be parted from them, and +from Natalia Savishna, and from the birch-tree avenue, and from Foka. +Yes, even the horrid Mimi I longed for. I longed for everything at home. +And poor Mamma!--The tears rushed to my eyes again. Yet even this mood +passed away before long. + + + + +XV -- CHILDHOOD + +HAPPY, happy, never-returning time of childhood! How can we help loving +and dwelling upon its recollections? They cheer and elevate the soul, +and become to one a source of higher joys. + +Sometimes, when dreaming of bygone days, I fancy that, tired out with +running about, I have sat down, as of old, in my high arm-chair by the +tea-table. It is late, and I have long since drunk my cup of milk. My +eyes are heavy with sleep as I sit there and listen. How could I not +listen, seeing that Mamma is speaking to somebody, and that the sound +of her voice is so melodious and kind? How much its echoes recall to +my heart! With my eyes veiled with drowsiness I gaze at her wistfully. +Suddenly she seems to grow smaller and smaller, and her face vanishes +to a point; yet I can still see it--can still see her as she looks at me +and smiles. Somehow it pleases me to see her grown so small. I blink and +blink, yet she looks no larger than a boy reflected in the pupil of an +eye. Then I rouse myself, and the picture fades. Once more I half-close +my eyes, and cast about to try and recall the dream, but it has gone. + +I rise to my feet, only to fall back comfortably into the armchair. + +"There! You are failing asleep again, little Nicolas," says Mamma. "You +had better go to by-by." + +"No, I won't go to sleep, Mamma," I reply, though almost inaudibly, for +pleasant dreams are filling all my soul. The sound sleep of childhood is +weighing my eyelids down, and for a few moments I sink into slumber and +oblivion until awakened by some one. I feel in my sleep as though a +soft hand were caressing me. I know it by the touch, and, though still +dreaming, I seize hold of it and press it to my lips. Every one else has +gone to bed, and only one candle remains burning in the drawing-room. +Mamma has said that she herself will wake me. She sits down on the arm +of the chair in which I am asleep, with her soft hand stroking my hair, +and I hear her beloved, well-known voice say in my ear: + +"Get up, my darling. It is time to go by-by." + +No envious gaze sees her now. She is not afraid to shed upon me the +whole of her tenderness and love. I do not wake up, yet I kiss and kiss +her hand. + +"Get up, then, my angel." + +She passes her other arm round my neck, and her fingers tickle me as +they move across it. The room is quiet and in half-darkness, but the +tickling has touched my nerves and I begin to awake. Mamma is sitting +near me--that I can tell--and touching me; I can hear her voice and +feel her presence. This at last rouses me to spring up, to throw my arms +around her neck, to hide my head in her bosom, and to say with a sigh: + +"Ah, dear, darling Mamma, how much I love you!" + +She smiles her sad, enchanting smile, takes my head between her two +hands, kisses me on the forehead, and lifts me on to her lap. + +"Do you love me so much, then?" she says. Then, after a few moments' +silence, she continues: "And you must love me always, and never forget +me. If your Mamma should no longer be here, will you promise never to +forget her--never, Nicolinka? and she kisses me more fondly than ever. + +"Oh, but you must not speak so, darling Mamma, my own darling Mamma!" +I exclaim as I clasp her knees, and tears of joy and love fall from my +eyes. + +How, after scenes like this, I would go upstairs, and stand before the +ikons, and say with a rapturous feeling, "God bless Papa and Mamma!" and +repeat a prayer for my beloved mother which my childish lips had learnt +to lisp-the love of God and of her blending strangely in a single +emotion! + +After saying my prayers I would wrap myself up in the bedclothes. My +heart would feel light, peaceful, and happy, and one dream would follow +another. Dreams of what? They were all of them vague, but all of them +full of pure love and of a sort of expectation of happiness. I remember, +too, that I used to think about Karl Ivanitch and his sad lot. He was +the only unhappy being whom I knew, and so sorry would I feel for him, +and so much did I love him, that tears would fall from my eyes as I +thought, "May God give him happiness, and enable me to help him and to +lessen his sorrow. I could make any sacrifice for him!" Usually, also, +there would be some favourite toy--a china dog or hare--stuck into the +bed-corner behind the pillow, and it would please me to think how warm +and comfortable and well cared-for it was there. Also, I would pray God +to make every one happy, so that every one might be contented, and also +to send fine weather to-morrow for our walk. Then I would turn myself +over on to the other side, and thoughts and dreams would become jumbled +and entangled together until at last I slept soundly and peacefully, +though with a face wet with tears. + +Do in after life the freshness and light-heartedness, the craving for +love and for strength of faith, ever return which we experience in our +childhood's years? What better time is there in our lives than when +the two best of virtues--innocent gaiety and a boundless yearning for +affection--are our sole objects of pursuit? + +Where now are our ardent prayers? Where now are our best gifts--the pure +tears of emotion which a guardian angel dries with a smile as he sheds +upon us lovely dreams of ineffable childish joy? Can it be that life has +left such heavy traces upon one's heart that those tears and ecstasies +are for ever vanished? Can it be that there remains to us only the +recollection of them? + + + + +XVI -- VERSE-MAKING + +RATHER less than a month after our arrival in Moscow I was sitting +upstairs in my Grandmamma's house and doing some writing at a large +table. Opposite to me sat the drawing master, who was giving a few +finishing touches to the head of a turbaned Turk, executed in black +pencil. Woloda, with out-stretched neck, was standing behind the drawing +master and looking over his shoulder. The head was Woloda's first +production in pencil and to-day--Grandmamma's name-day--the masterpiece +was to be presented to her. + +"Aren't you going to put a little more shadow there?" said Woloda to +the master as he raised himself on tiptoe and pointed to the Turk's +neck. + +"No, it is not necessary," the master replied as he put pencil and +drawing-pen into a japanned folding box. "It is just right now, and +you need not do anything more to it. As for you, Nicolinka," he added, +rising and glancing askew at the Turk, "won't you tell us your great +secret at last? What are you going to give your Grandmamma? I think +another head would be your best gift. But good-bye, gentlemen," and +taking his hat and cardboard he departed. + +I too had thought that another head than the one at which I had been +working would be a better gift; so, when we were told that Grandmamma's +name-day was soon to come round and that we must each of us have a +present ready for her, I had taken it into my head to write some +verses in honour of the occasion, and had forthwith composed two rhymed +couplets, hoping that the rest would soon materialise. I really do not +know how the idea--one so peculiar for a child--came to occur to me, but +I know that I liked it vastly, and answered all questions on the subject +of my gift by declaring that I should soon have something ready for +Grandmamma, but was not going to say what it was. + +Contrary to my expectation, I found that, after the first two couplets +executed in the initial heat of enthusiasm, even my most strenuous +efforts refused to produce another one. I began to read different poems +in our books, but neither Dimitrieff nor Derzhavin could help me. On +the contrary, they only confirmed my sense of incompetence. Knowing, +however, that Karl Ivanitch was fond of writing verses, I stole softly +upstairs to burrow among his papers, and found, among a number of German +verses, some in the Russian language which seemed to have come from his +own pen. + + To L + + Remember near + Remember far, + Remember me. + To-day be faithful, and for ever-- + Aye, still beyond the grave--remember + That I have well loved thee. + + "KARL MAYER." + +These verses (which were written in a fine, round hand on thin +letter-paper) pleased me with the touching sentiment with which they +seemed to be inspired. I learnt them by heart, and decided to take them +as a model. The thing was much easier now. By the time the name-day had +arrived I had completed a twelve-couplet congratulatory ode, and sat +down to the table in our school-room to copy them out on vellum. + +Two sheets were soon spoiled--not because I found it necessary to alter +anything (the verses seemed to me perfect), but because, after the third +line, the tail-end of each successive one would go curving upward and +making it plain to all the world that the whole thing had been written +with a want of adherence to the horizontal--a thing which I could not +bear to see. + +The third sheet also came out crooked, but I determined to make it do. +In my verses I congratulated Grandmamma, wished her many happy returns, +and concluded thus: + + "Endeavouring you to please and cheer, + We love you like our Mother dear." + +This seemed to me not bad, yet it offended my ear somehow. + +"Lo-ve you li-ike our Mo-ther dear," I repeated to myself. "What other +rhyme could I use instead of 'dear'? Fear? Steer? Well, it must go at +that. At least the verses are better than Karl Ivanitch's." + +Accordingly I added the last verse to the rest. Then I went into +our bedroom and recited the whole poem aloud with much feeling and +gesticulation. The verses were altogether guiltless of metre, but I +did not stop to consider that. Yet the last one displeased me more than +ever. As I sat on my bed I thought: + +"Why on earth did I write 'like our Mother dear'? She is not here, and +therefore she need never have been mentioned. True, I love and respect +Grandmamma, but she is not quite the same as--Why DID I write that? +What did I go and tell a lie for? They may be verses only, yet I needn't +quite have done that." + +At that moment the tailor arrived with some new clothes for us. + +"Well, so be it!" I said in much vexation as I crammed the verses +hastily under my pillow and ran down to adorn myself in the new Moscow +garments. + +They fitted marvellously-both the brown jacket with yellow buttons (a +garment made skin-tight and not "to allow room for growth," as in +the country) and the black trousers (also close-fitting so that they +displayed the figure and lay smoothly over the boots). + +"At last I have real trousers on!" I thought as I looked at my legs with +the utmost satisfaction. I concealed from every one the fact that the +new clothes were horribly tight and uncomfortable, but, on the contrary, +said that, if there were a fault, it was that they were not tight +enough. For a long while I stood before the looking-glass as I combed +my elaborately pomaded head, but, try as I would, I could not reduce the +topmost hairs on the crown to order. As soon as ever I left off combing +them, they sprang up again and radiated in different directions, thus +giving my face a ridiculous expression. + +Karl Ivanitch was dressing in another room, and I heard some one +bring him his blue frockcoat and under-linen. Then at the door leading +downstairs I heard a maid-servant's voice, and went to see what she +wanted. In her hand she held a well-starched shirt which she said she +had been sitting up all night to get ready. I took it, and asked if +Grandmamma was up yet. + +"Oh yes, she has had her coffee, and the priest has come. My word, but +you look a fine little fellow!" added the girl with a smile at my new +clothes. + +This observation made me blush, so I whirled round on one leg, snapped +my fingers, and went skipping away, in the hope that by these manoeuvres +I should make her sensible that even yet she had not realised quite what +a fine fellow I was. + +However, when I took the shirt to Karl I found that he did not need it, +having taken another one. Standing before a small looking-glass, he tied +his cravat with both hands--trying, by various motions of his head, to +see whether it fitted him comfortably or not--and then took us down to +see Grandmamma. To this day I cannot help laughing when I remember what +a smell of pomade the three of us left behind us on the staircase as we +descended. + +Karl was carrying a box which he had made himself, Woloda, his drawing, +and I my verses, while each of us also had a form of words ready with +which to present his gift. Just as Karl opened the door, the priest put +on his vestment and began to say prayers. + +During the ceremony Grandmamma stood leaning over the back of a chair, +with her head bent down. Near her stood Papa. He turned and smiled at us +as we hurriedly thrust our presents behind our backs and tried to remain +unobserved by the door. The whole effect of a surprise, upon which we +had been counting, was entirely lost. When at last every one had made +the sign of the cross I became intolerably oppressed with a sudden, +invincible, and deadly attack of shyness, so that the courage to, offer +my present completely failed me. I hid myself behind Karl Ivanitch, who +solemnly congratulated Grandmamma and, transferring his box from his +right hand to his left, presented it to her. Then he withdrew a few +steps to make way for Woloda. Grandmamma seemed highly pleased with +the box (which was adorned with a gold border), and smiled in the most +friendly manner in order to express her gratitude. Yet it was evident +that, she did not know where to set the box down, and this probably +accounts for the fact that she handed it to Papa, at the same time +bidding him observe how beautifully it was made. + +His curiosity satisfied, Papa handed the box to the priest, who also +seemed particularly delighted with it, and looked with astonishment, +first at the article itself, and then at the artist who could make +such wonderful things. Then Woloda presented his Turk, and received a +similarly flattering ovation on all sides. + +It was my turn now, and Grandmamma turned to me with her kindest smile. +Those who have experienced what embarrassment is know that it is a +feeling which grows in direct proportion to delay, while decision +decreases in similar measure. In other words the longer the condition +lasts, the more invincible does it become, and the smaller does the +power of decision come to be. + +My last remnants of nerve and energy had forsaken me while Karl and +Woloda had been offering their presents, and my shyness now reached its +culminating point, I felt the blood rushing from my heart to my head, +one blush succeeding another across my face, and drops of perspiration +beginning to stand out on my brow and nose. My ears were burning, I +trembled from head to foot, and, though I kept changing from one foot to +the other, I remained rooted where I stood. + +"Well, Nicolinka, tell us what you have brought?" said Papa. "Is it a +box or a drawing?" + +There was nothing else to be done. With a trembling hand held out the +folded, fatal paper, but my voiced failed me completely and I stood +before Grandmamma in silence. I could not get rid of the dreadful idea +that, instead of a display of the expected drawing, some bad verses of +mine were about to be read aloud before every one, and that the words +"our Mother dear" would clearly prove that I had never loved, but had +only forgotten, her. How shall I express my sufferings when Grandmamma +began to read my poetry aloud?--when, unable to decipher it, she stopped +half-way and looked at Papa with a smile (which I took to be one of +ridicule)?--when she did not pronounce it as I had meant it to be +pronounced?--and when her weak sight not allowing her to finish it, she +handed the paper to Papa and requested him to read it all over again +from the beginning? I fancied that she must have done this last because +she did not like to read such a lot of stupid, crookedly written stuff +herself, yet wanted to point out to Papa my utter lack of feeling. I +expected him to slap me in the face with the verses and say, "You bad +boy! So you have forgotten your Mamma! Take that for it!" Yet nothing +of the sort happened. On the contrary, when the whole had been read, +Grandmamma said, "Charming!" and kissed me on the forehead. Then our +presents, together with two cambric pocket-handkerchiefs and a snuff-box +engraved with Mamma's portrait, were laid on the table attached to the +great Voltairian arm-chair in which Grandmamma always sat. + +"The Princess Barbara Ilinitsha!" announced one of the two footmen who +used to stand behind Grandmamma's carriage, but Grandmamma was looking +thoughtfully at the portrait on the snuff-box, and returned no answer. + +"Shall I show her in, madam?" repeated the footman. + + + + +XVII -- THE PRINCESS KORNAKOFF + +"Yes, show her in," said Grandmamma, settling herself as far back in +her arm-chair as possible. The Princess was a woman of about +forty-five, small and delicate, with a shrivelled skin and disagreeable, +greyish-green eyes, the expression of which contradicted the unnaturally +suave look of the rest of her face. Underneath her velvet bonnet, +adorned with an ostrich feather, was visible some reddish hair, while +against the unhealthy colour of her skin her eyebrows and eyelashes +looked even lighter and redder that they would other wise have done. +Yet, for all that, her animated movements, small hands, and peculiarly +dry features communicated something aristocratic and energetic to her +general appearance. She talked a great deal, and, to judge from her +eloquence, belonged to that class of persons who always speak as though +some one were contradicting them, even though no one else may be saying +a word. First she would raise her voice, then lower it and then take on +a fresh access of vivacity as she looked at the persons present, but not +participating in the conversation, with an air of endeavouring to draw +them into it. + +Although the Princess kissed Grandmamma's hand and repeatedly called her +"my good Aunt," I could see that Grandmamma did not care much about her, +for she kept raising her eyebrows in a peculiar way while listening +to the Princess's excuses why Prince Michael had been prevented from +calling, and congratulating Grandmamma "as he would like so-much to +have done." At length, however, she answered the Princess's French with +Russian, and with a sharp accentuation of certain words. + +"I am much obliged to you for your kindness," she said. "As for Prince +Michael's absence, pray do not mention it. He has so much else to do. +Besides, what pleasure could he find in coming to see an old woman like +me?" Then, without allowing the Princess time to reply, she went on: +"How are your children my dear?" + +"Well, thank God, Aunt, they grow and do their lessons and +play--particularly my eldest one, Etienne, who is so wild that it +is almost impossible to keep him in order. Still, he is a clever and +promising boy. Would you believe it, cousin," (this last to Papa, since +Grandmamma altogether uninterested in the Princess's children, had +turned to us, taken my verses out from beneath the presentation box, and +unfolded them again), "would you believe it, but one day not long ago--" +and leaning over towards Papa, the Princess related something or other +with great vivacity. Then, her tale concluded, she laughed, and, with a +questioning look at Papa, went on: + +"What a boy, cousin! He ought to have been whipped, but the trick was +so spirited and amusing that I let him off." Then the Princess looked at +Grandmamma and laughed again. + +"Ah! So you WHIP your children, do you" said Grandmamma, with a +significant lift of her eyebrows, and laying a peculiar stress on the +word "WHIP." + +"Alas, my good Aunt," replied the Princess in a sort of tolerant tone +and with another glance at Papa, "I know your views on the subject, but +must beg to be allowed to differ with them. However much I have thought +over and read and talked about the matter, I have always been forced to +come to the conclusion that children must be ruled through FEAR. To make +something of a child, you must make it FEAR something. Is it not so, +cousin? And what, pray, do children fear so much as a rod?" + +As she spoke she seemed, to look inquiringly at Woloda and myself, and I +confess that I did not feel altogether comfortable. + +"Whatever you may say," she went on, "a boy of twelve, or even of +fourteen, is still a child and should be whipped as such; but with +girls, perhaps, it is another matter." + +"How lucky it is that I am not her son!" I thought to myself. + +"Oh, very well," said Grandmamma, folding up my verses and replacing +them beneath the box (as though, after that exposition of views, the +Princess was unworthy of the honour of listening to such a production). +"Very well, my dear," she repeated "But please tell me how, in return, +you can look for any delicate sensibility from your children?" + +Evidently Grandmamma thought this argument unanswerable, for she cut the +subject short by adding: + +"However, it is a point on which people must follow their own opinions." + +The Princess did not choose to reply, but smiled condescendingly, and as +though out of indulgence to the strange prejudices of a person whom she +only PRETENDED to revere. + +"Oh, by the way, pray introduce me to your young people," she went on +presently as she threw us another gracious smile. + +Thereupon we rose and stood looking at the Princess, without in the +least knowing what we ought to do to show that we were being introduced. + +"Kiss the Princess's hand," said Papa. + +"Well, I hope you will love your old aunt," she said to Woloda, kissing +his hair, "even though we are not near relatives. But I value friendship +far more than I do degrees of relationship," she added to Grandmamma, +who nevertheless, remained hostile, and replied: + +"Eh, my dear? Is that what they think of relationships nowadays?" + +"Here is my man of the world," put in Papa, indicating Woloda; "and here +is my poet," he added as I kissed the small, dry hand of the Princess, +with a vivid picture in my mind of that same hand holding a rod and +applying it vigorously. + +"WHICH one is the poet?" asked the Princess. + +"This little one," replied Papa, smiling; "the one with the tuft of hair +on his top-knot." + +"Why need he bother about my tuft?" I thought to myself as I retired +into a corner. "Is there nothing else for him to talk about?" + +I had strange ideas on manly beauty. I considered Karl Ivanitch one of +the handsomest men in the world, and myself so ugly that I had no need +to deceive myself on that point. Therefore any remark on the subject of +my exterior offended me extremely. I well remember how, one day after +luncheon (I was then six years of age), the talk fell upon my personal +appearance, and how Mamma tried to find good features in my face, and +said that I had clever eyes and a charming smile; how, nevertheless, +when Papa had examined me, and proved the contrary, she was obliged to +confess that I was ugly; and how, when the meal was over and I went +to pay her my respects, she said as she patted my cheek; "You know, +Nicolinka, nobody will ever love you for your face alone, so you must +try all the more to be a good and clever boy." + +Although these words of hers confirmed in me my conviction that I was +not handsome, they also confirmed in me an ambition to be just such +a boy as she had indicated. Yet I had my moments of despair at my +ugliness, for I thought that no human being with such a large nose, such +thick lips, and such small grey eyes as mine could ever hope to attain +happiness on this earth. I used to ask God to perform a miracle by +changing me into a beauty, and would have given all that I possessed, or +ever hoped to possess, to have a handsome face. + + + + +XVIII -- PRINCE IVAN IVANOVITCH + +When the Princess had heard my verses and overwhelmed the writer of them +with praise, Grandmamma softened to her a little. She began to address +her in French and to cease calling her "my dear." Likewise she invited +her to return that evening with her children. This invitation having +been accepted, the Princess took her leave. After that, so many other +callers came to congratulate Grandmamma that the courtyard was crowded +all day long with carriages. + +"Good morning, my dear cousin," was the greeting of one guest in +particular as he entered the room and kissed Grandmamma's hand, He was +a man of seventy, with a stately figure clad in a military uniform and +adorned with large epaulettes, an embroidered collar, and a white cross +round the neck. His face, with its quiet and open expression, as well +as the simplicity and ease of his manners, greatly pleased me, for, in +spite of the thin half-circle of hair which was all that was now left +to him, and the want of teeth disclosed by the set of his upper lip, his +face was a remarkably handsome one. + +Thanks to his fine character, handsome exterior, remarkable valour, +influential relatives, and, above all, good fortune, Prince, Ivan +Ivanovitch had early made himself a career. As that career progressed, +his ambition had met with a success which left nothing more to be sought +for in that direction. From his earliest youth upward he had prepared +himself to fill the exalted station in the world to which fate actually +called him later; wherefore, although in his prosperous life (as in the +lives of all) there had been failures, misfortunes, and cares, he had +never lost his quietness of character, his elevated tone of thought, or +his peculiarly moral, religious bent of mind. Consequently, though he +had won the universal esteem of his fellows, he had done so less through +his important position than through his perseverance and integrity. +While not of specially distinguished intellect, the eminence of his +station (whence he could afford to look down upon all petty questions) +had caused him to adopt high points of view. Though in reality he was +kind and sympathetic, in manner he appeared cold and haughty--probably +for the reason that he had forever to be on his guard against the +endless claims and petitions of people who wished to profit through +his influence. Yet even then his coldness was mitigated by the polite +condescension of a man well accustomed to move in the highest circles +of society. Well-educated, his culture was that of a youth of the end of +the last century. He had read everything, whether philosophy or belles +lettres, which that age had produced in France, and loved to quote from +Racine, Corneille, Boileau, Moliere, Montaigne, and Fenelon. Likewise he +had gleaned much history from Segur, and much of the old classics from +French translations of them; but for mathematics, natural philosophy, or +contemporary literature he cared nothing whatever. However, he knew how +to be silent in conversation, as well as when to make general remarks +on authors whom he had never read--such as Goethe, Schiller, and Byron. +Moreover, despite his exclusively French education, he was simple in +speech and hated originality (which he called the mark of an untutored +nature). Wherever he lived, society was a necessity to him, and, both in +Moscow and the country he had his reception days, on which practically +"all the town" called upon him. An introduction from him was a passport +to every drawing-room; few young and pretty ladies in society objected +to offering him their rosy cheeks for a paternal salute; and people even +in the highest positions felt flattered by invitations to his parties. + +The Prince had few friends left now like Grandmamma--that is to say, few +friends who were of the same standing as himself, who had had the same +sort of education, and who saw things from the same point of view: +wherefore he greatly valued his intimate, long-standing friendship with +her, and always showed her the highest respect. + +I hardly dared to look at the Prince, since the honour paid him on all +sides, the huge epaulettes, the peculiar pleasure with which Grandmamma +received him, and the fact that he alone, seemed in no way afraid of +her, but addressed her with perfect freedom (even being so daring as to +call her "cousin"), awakened in me a feeling of reverence for his person +almost equal to that which I felt for Grandmamma herself. + +On being shown my verses, he called me to his side, and said: + +"Who knows, my cousin, but that he may prove to be a second Derzhavin?" +Nevertheless he pinched my cheek so hard that I was only prevented from +crying by the thought that it must be meant for a caress. + +Gradually the other guests dispersed, and with them Papa and Woloda. +Thus only Grandmamma, the Prince, and myself were left in the +drawing-room. + +"Why has our dear Natalia Nicolaevna not come to-day" asked the Prince +after a silence. + +"Ah, my friend," replied Grandmamma, lowering her voice and laying a +hand upon the sleeve of his uniform, "she would certainly have come if +she had been at liberty to do what she likes. She wrote to me that Peter +had proposed bringing her with him to town, but that she had refused, +since their income had not been good this year, and she could see +no real reason why the whole family need come to Moscow, seeing that +Lubotshka was as yet very young and that the boys were living with me--a +fact, she said, which made her feel as safe about them as though she had +been living with them herself." + +"True, it is good for the boys to be here," went on Grandmamma, yet in +a tone which showed clearly that she did not think it was so very good, +"since it was more than time that they should be sent to Moscow to +study, as well as to learn how to comport themselves in society. What +sort of an education could they have got in the country? The eldest boy +will soon be thirteen, and the second one eleven. As yet, my cousin, +they are quite untaught, and do not know even how to enter a room." + +"Nevertheless" said the Prince, "I cannot understand these complaints +of ruined fortunes. He has a very handsome income, and Natalia has +Chabarovska, where we used to act plays, and which I know as well as +I do my own hand. It is a splendid property, and ought to bring in an +excellent return." + +"Well," said Grandmamma with a sad expression on her face, "I do not +mind telling you, as my most intimate friend, that all this seems to me +a mere pretext on his part for living alone, for strolling about from +club to club, for attending dinner-parties, and for resorting to--well, +who knows what? She suspects nothing; you know her angelic sweetness and +her implicit trust of him in everything. He had only to tell her that +the children must go to Moscow and that she must be left behind in the +country with a stupid governess for company, for her to believe him! I +almost think that if he were to say that the children must be whipped +just as the Princess Barbara whips hers, she would believe even that!" +and Grandmamma leant back in her arm-chair with an expression of +contempt. Then, after a moment of silence, during which she took her +handkerchief out of her pocket to wipe away a few tears which had stolen +down her cheeks, she went, on: + +"Yes, my friend, I often think that he cannot value and understand +her properly, and that, for all her goodness and love of him and her +endeavours to conceal her grief (which, however as I know only too well, +exists). She cannot really he happy with him. Mark my words if he does +not--" Here Grandmamma buried her face in the handkerchief. + +"Ah, my dear old friend," said the Prince reproachfully. "I think you +are unreasonable. Why grieve and weep over imagined evils? That is +not right. I have known him a long time, and feel sure that he is an +attentive, kind, and excellent husband, as well as (which is the chief +thing of all) a perfectly honourable man." + +At this point, having been an involuntary auditor of a conversation +not meant for my ears, I stole on tiptoe out of the room, in a state of +great distress. + + + + +XIX -- THE IWINS + +"Woloda, Woloda! The Iwins are just coming." I shouted on seeing from +the window three boys in blue overcoats, and followed by a young tutor, +advancing along the pavement opposite our house. + +The Iwins were related to us, and of about the same age as ourselves. We +had made their acquaintance soon after our arrival in Moscow. The second +brother, Seriosha, had dark curly hair, a turned-up, strongly pronounced +nose, very bright red lips (which, never being quite shut, showed a +row of white teeth), beautiful dark-blue eyes, and an uncommonly bold +expression of face. He never smiled but was either wholly serious or +laughing a clear, merry, agreeable laugh. His striking good looks had +captivated me from the first, and I felt an irresistible attraction +towards him. Only to see him filled me with pleasure, and at one time my +whole mental faculties used to be concentrated in the wish that I +might do so. If three or four days passed without my seeing him I felt +listless and ready to cry. Awake or asleep, I was forever dreaming of +him. On going to bed I used to see him in my dreams, and when I had +shut my eyes and called up a picture of him I hugged the vision as +my choicest delight. So much store did I set upon this feeling for my +friend that I never mentioned it to any one. Nevertheless, it must have +annoyed him to see my admiring eyes constantly fixed upon him, or else +he must have felt no reciprocal attraction, for he always preferred to +play and talk with Woloda. Still, even with that I felt satisfied, and +wished and asked for nothing better than to be ready at any time to make +any sacrifice for him. Likewise, over and above the strange fascination +which he exercised upon me, I always felt another sensation, namely, +a dread of making him angry, of offending him, of displeasing him. Was +this because his face bore such a haughty expression, or because I, +despising my own exterior, over-rated the beautiful in others, or, +lastly (and most probably), because it is a common sign of affection? +At all events, I felt as much fear, of him as I did love. The first time +that he spoke to me I was so overwhelmed with sudden happiness that I +turned pale, then red, and could not utter a word. He had an ugly habit +of blinking when considering anything seriously, as well as of twitching +his nose and eyebrows. Consequently every one thought that this habit +marred his face. Yet I thought it such a nice one that I involuntarily +adopted it for myself, until, a few days after I had made his +acquaintance, Grandmamma suddenly asked me whether my eyes were hurting +me, since I was winking like an owl! Never a word of affection passed +between us, yet he felt his power over me, and unconsciously but +tyrannically, exercised it in all our childish intercourse. I used to +long to tell him all that was in my heart, yet was too much afraid of +him to be frank in any way, and, while submitting myself to his will, +tried to appear merely careless and indifferent. Although at times his +influence seemed irksome and intolerable, to throw it off was beyond my +strength. + +I often think with regret of that fresh, beautiful feeling of boundless, +disinterested love which came to an end without having ever found +self-expression or return. It is strange how, when a child, I always +longed to be like grown-up people, and yet how I have often longed, +since childhood's days, for those days to come back to me! Many times, +in my relations with Seriosha, this wish to resemble grown-up people +put a rude check upon the love that was waiting to expand, and made me +repress it. Not only was I afraid of kissing him, or of taking his hand +and saying how glad I was to see him, but I even dreaded calling him +"Seriosha" and always said "Sergius" as every one else did in our +house. Any expression of affection would have seemed like evidence of +childishness, and any one who indulged in it, a baby. Not having yet +passed through those bitter experiences which enforce upon older years +circumspection and coldness, I deprived myself of the pure delight of +a fresh, childish instinct for the absurd purpose of trying to resemble +grown-up people. + +I met the Iwins in the ante-room, welcomed them, and then ran to tell +Grandmamma of their arrival with an expression as happy as though she +were certain to be equally delighted. Then, never taking my eyes off +Seriosha, I conducted the visitors to the drawing-room, and eagerly +followed every movement of my favourite. When Grandmamma spoke to +and fixed her penetrating glance upon him, I experienced that mingled +sensation of pride and solicitude which an artist might feel when +waiting for revered lips to pronounce a judgment upon his work. + +With Grandmamma's permission, the Iwins' young tutor, Herr Frost, +accompanied us into the little back garden, where he seated himself +upon a bench, arranged his legs in a tasteful attitude, rested his +brass-knobbed cane between them, lighted a cigar, and assumed the air +of a man well-pleased with himself. He was a German, but of a very +different sort to our good Karl Ivanitch. In the first place, he spoke +both Russian and French correctly, though with a hard accent Indeed, +he enjoyed--especially among the ladies--the reputation of being a very +accomplished fellow. In the second place, he wore a reddish moustache, +a large gold pin set with a ruby, a black satin tie, and a very +fashionable suit. Lastly, he was young, with a handsome, self-satisfied +face and fine muscular legs. It was clear that he set the greatest store +upon the latter, and thought them beyond compare, especially as regards +the favour of the ladies. Consequently, whether sitting or standing, he +always tried to exhibit them in the most favourable light. In short, +he was a type of the young German-Russian whose main desire is to be +thought perfectly gallant and gentlemanly. + +In the little garden merriment reigned. In fact, the game of "robbers" +never went better. Yet an incident occurred which came near to spoiling +it. Seriosha was the robber, and in pouncing upon some travellers he +fell down and knocked his leg so badly against a tree that I thought +the leg must be broken. Consequently, though I was the gendarme and +therefore bound to apprehend him, I only asked him anxiously, when I +reached him, if he had hurt himself very much. Nevertheless this threw +him into a passion, and made him exclaim with fists clenched and in a +voice which showed by its faltering what pain he was enduring, "Why, +whatever is the matter? Is this playing the game properly? You ought +to arrest me. Why on earth don't you do so?" This he repeated several +times, and then, seeing Woloda and the elder Iwin (who were taking the +part of the travellers) jumping and running about the path, he suddenly +threw himself upon them with a shout and loud laughter to effect +their capture. I cannot express my wonder and delight at this valiant +behaviour of my hero. In spite of the severe pain, he had not only +refrained from crying, but had repressed the least symptom of suffering +and kept his eye fixed upon the game! Shortly after this occurrence +another boy, Ilinka Grap, joined our party. We went upstairs, and +Seriosha gave me an opportunity of still further appreciating and taking +delight in his manly bravery and fortitude. This was how it was. + +Ilinka was the son of a poor foreigner who had been under certain +obligations to my Grandpapa, and now thought it incumbent upon him to +send his son to us as frequently as possible. Yet if he thought that the +acquaintance would procure his son any advancement or pleasure, he was +entirely mistaken, for not only were we anything but friendly to Ilinka, +but it was seldom that we noticed him at all except to laugh at him. He +was a boy of thirteen, tall and thin, with a pale, birdlike face, and +a quiet, good-tempered expression. Though poorly dressed, he always had +his head so thickly pomaded that we used to declare that on warm days +it melted and ran down his neck. When I think of him now, it seems to +me that he was a very quiet, obliging, and good-tempered boy, but at +the time I thought him a creature so contemptible that he was not worth +either attention or pity. + +Upstairs we set ourselves to astonish each other with gymnastic tours de +force. Ilinka watched us with a faint smile of admiration, but refused +an invitation to attempt a similar feat, saying that he had no strength. + +Seriosha was extremely captivating. His face and eyes glowed with +laughter as he surprised us with tricks which we had never seen before. +He jumped over three chairs put together, turned somersaults right +across the room, and finally stood on his head on a pyramid of +Tatistchev's dictionaries, moving his legs about with such comical +rapidity that it was impossible not to help bursting with merriment. + +After this last trick he pondered for a moment (blinking his eyes as +usual), and then went up to Ilinka with a very serious face. + +"Try and do that," he said. "It is not really difficult." + +Ilinka, observing that the general attention was fixed upon him, +blushed, and said in an almost inaudible voice that he could not do the +feat. + +"Well, what does he mean by doing nothing at all? What a girl the fellow +is! He has just GOT to stand on his head," and Seriosha, took him by the +hand. + +"Yes, on your head at once! This instant, this instant!" every one +shouted as we ran upon Ilinka and dragged him to the dictionaries, +despite his being visibly pale and frightened. + +"Leave me alone! You are tearing my jacket!" cried the unhappy victim, +but his exclamations of despair only encouraged us the more. We were +dying with laughter, while the green jacket was bursting at every seam. + +Woloda and the eldest Iwin took his head and placed it on the +dictionaries, while Seriosha, and I seized his poor, thin legs (his +struggles had stripped them upwards to the knees), and with boisterous, +laughter held them uptight--the youngest Iwin superintending his general +equilibrium. + +Suddenly a moment of silence occurred amid our boisterous laughter--a +moment during which nothing was to be heard in the room but the panting +of the miserable Ilinka. It occurred to me at that moment that, after +all, there was nothing so very comical and pleasant in all this. + +"Now, THAT'S a boy!" cried Seriosha, giving Ilinka a smack with his +hand. Ilinka said nothing, but made such desperate movements with his +legs to free himself that his foot suddenly kicked Seriosha in the +eye: with the result that, letting go of Ilinka's leg and covering the +wounded member with one hand, Seriosha hit out at him with all his might +with the other one. Of course Ilinka's legs slipped down as, sinking +exhausted to the floor and half-suffocated with tears, he stammered out: + +"Why should you bully me so?" + +The poor fellow's miserable figure, with its streaming tears, ruffled +hair, and crumpled trousers revealing dirty boots, touched us a little, +and we stood silent and trying to smile. + +Seriosha was the first to recover himself. + +"What a girl! What a gaby!" he said, giving Ilinka a slight kick. "He +can't take things in fun a bit. Well, get up, then." + +"You are an utter beast! That's what YOU are!" said Ilinka, turning +miserably away and sobbing. + +"Oh, oh! Would it still kick and show temper, then?" cried Seriosha, +seizing a dictionary and throwing it at the unfortunate boy's head. +Apparently it never occurred to Ilinka to take refuge from the missile; +he merely guarded his head with his hands. + +"Well, that's enough now," added Seriosha, with a forced laugh. "You +DESERVE to be hurt if you can't take things in fun. Now let's go +downstairs." + +I could not help looking with some compassion at the miserable creature +on the floor as, his face buried in the dictionary, he lay there sobbing +almost as though he were in a fit. + +"Oh, Sergius!" I said. "Why have you done this?" + +"Well, you did it too! Besides, I did not cry this afternoon when I +knocked my leg and nearly broke it." + +"True enough," I thought. "Ilinka is a poor whining sort of a chap, +while Seriosha is a boy--a REAL boy." + +It never occurred to my mind that possibly poor Ilinka was suffering +far less from bodily pain than from the thought that five companions +for whom he may have felt a genuine liking had, for no reason at all, +combined to hurt and humiliate him. + +I cannot explain my cruelty on this occasion. Why did I not step forward +to comfort and protect him? Where was the pitifulness which often made +me burst into tears at the sight of a young bird fallen from its nest, +or of a puppy being thrown over a wall, or of a chicken being killed by +the cook for soup? + +Can it be that the better instinct in me was overshadowed by my +affection for Seriosha and the desire to shine before so brave a boy? If +so, how contemptible were both the affection and the desire! They alone +form dark spots on the pages of my youthful recollections. + + + + +XX -- PREPARATIONS FOR THE PARTY + +To judge from the extraordinary activity in the pantry, the shining +cleanliness which imparted such a new and festal guise to certain +articles in the salon and drawing-room which I had long known as +anything but resplendent, and the arrival of some musicians whom Prince +Ivan would certainly not have sent for nothing, no small amount of +company was to be expected that evening. + +At the sound of every vehicle which chanced to pass the house I ran +to the window, leaned my head upon my arms, and peered with impatient +curiosity into the street. + +At last a carriage stopped at our door, and, in the full belief that +this must be the Iwins, who had promised to come early, I at once ran +downstairs to meet them in the hall. + +But, instead of the Iwins, I beheld from behind the figure of the +footman who opened the door two female figures-one tall and wrapped in a +blue cloak trimmed with marten, and the other one short and wrapped in +a green shawl from beneath which a pair of little feet, stuck into fur +boots, peeped forth. + +Without paying any attention to my presence in the hall (although I +thought it my duty, on the appearance of these persons to salute them), +the shorter one moved towards the taller, and stood silently in front of +her. Thereupon the tall lady untied the shawl which enveloped the head +of the little one, and unbuttoned the cloak which hid her form; until, +by the time that the footmen had taken charge of these articles and +removed the fur boots, there stood forth from the amorphous chrysalis +a charming girl of twelve, dressed in a short muslin frock, white +pantaloons, and smart black satin shoes. Around her, white neck she wore +a narrow black velvet ribbon, while her head was covered with flaxen +curls which so perfectly suited her beautiful face in front and her bare +neck and shoulders behind that I, would have believed nobody, not even +Karl Ivanitch, if he, or she had told me that they only hung so nicely +because, ever since the morning, they had been screwed up in fragments +of a Moscow newspaper and then warmed with a hot iron. To me it seemed +as though she must have been born with those curls. + +The most prominent feature in her face was a pair of unusually large +half-veiled eyes, which formed a strange, but pleasing, contrast to the +small mouth. Her lips were closed, while her eyes looked so grave that +the general expression of her face gave one the impression that a smile +was never to be looked for from her: wherefore, when a smile did come, +it was all the more pleasing. + +Trying to escape notice, I slipped through the door of the salon, +and then thought it necessary to be seen pacing to and fro, seemingly +engaged in thought, as though unconscious of the arrival of guests. + +BY the time, however, that the ladies had advanced to the middle of +the salon I seemed suddenly to awake from my reverie and told them that +Grandmamma was in the drawing room, Madame Valakhin, whose face pleased +me extremely (especially since it bore a great resemblance to her +daughter's), stroked my head kindly. + +Grandmamma seemed delighted to see Sonetchka, She invited her to come +to her, put back a curl which had fallen over her brow, and looking +earnestly at her said, "What a charming child!" + +Sonetchka blushed, smiled, and, indeed, looked so charming that I myself +blushed as I looked at her. + +"I hope you are going to enjoy yourself here, my love," said +Grandmamma. "Pray be as merry and dance as much as ever you can. See, we +have two beaux for her already," she added, turning to Madame Valakhin, +and stretching out her hand to me. + +This coupling of Sonetchka and myself pleased me so much that I blushed +again. + +Feeling, presently, that, my embarrassment was increasing, and hearing +the sound of carriages approaching, I thought it wise to retire. In the +hall I encountered the Princess Kornakoff, her son, and an incredible +number of daughters. They had all of them the same face as their mother, +and were very ugly. None of them arrested my attention. They talked in +shrill tones as they took off their cloaks and boas, and laughed as they +bustled about--probably at the fact that there were so many of them! + +Etienne was a boy of fifteen, tall and plump, with a sharp face, +deep-set bluish eyes, and very large hands and feet for his age. +Likewise he was awkward, and had a nervous, unpleasing voice. +Nevertheless he seemed very pleased with himself, and was, in my +opinion, a boy who could well bear being beaten with rods. + +For a long time we confronted one another without speaking as we took +stock of each other. When the flood of dresses had swept past I made +shift to begin a conversation by asking him whether it had not been very +close in the carriage. + +"I don't know," he answered indifferently. "I never ride inside it, for +it makes me feel sick directly, and Mamma knows that. Whenever we are +driving anywhere at night-time I always sit on the box. I like that, for +then one sees everything. Philip gives me the reins, and sometimes the +whip too, and then the people inside get a regular--well, you know," he +added with a significant gesture "It's splendid then." + +"Master Etienne," said a footman, entering the hall, "Philip wishes me +to ask you where you put the whip." + +"Where I put it? Why, I gave it back to him." + +"But he says that you did not." + +"Well, I laid it across the carriage-lamps!" + +"No, sir, he says that you did not do that either. You had better +confess that you took it and lashed it to shreds. I suppose poor Philip +will have to make good your mischief out of his own pocket." The footman +(who looked a grave and honest man) seemed much put out by the affair, +and determined to sift it to the bottom on Philip's behalf. + +Out of delicacy I pretended to notice nothing and turned aside, but the +other footmen present gathered round and looked approvingly at the old +servant. + +"Hm--well, I DID tear it in pieces," at length confessed Etienne, +shrinking from further explanations. "However, I will pay for it. Did +you ever hear anything so absurd?" he added to me as he drew me towards +the drawing-room. + +"But excuse me, sir; HOW are you going to pay for it? I know your ways +of paying. You have owed Maria Valericana twenty copecks these eight +months now, and you have owed me something for two years, and Peter +for--" + +"Hold your tongue, will you!" shouted the young fellow, pale with rage, +"I shall report you for this." + +"Oh, you may do so," said the footman. "Yet it is not fair, your +highness," he added, with a peculiar stress on the title, as he departed +with the ladies' wraps to the cloak-room. We ourselves entered the +salon. + +"Quite right, footman," remarked someone approvingly from the ball +behind us. + +Grandmamma had a peculiar way of employing, now the second person +singular, now the second person plural, in order to indicate her opinion +of people. When the young Prince Etienne went up to her she addressed +him as "YOU," and altogether looked at him with such an expression +of contempt that, had I been in his place, I should have been utterly +crestfallen. Etienne, however, was evidently not a boy of that sort, +for he not only took no notice of her reception of him, but none of her +person either. In fact, he bowed to the company at large in a way which, +though not graceful, was at least free from embarrassment. + +Sonetchka now claimed my whole attention. I remember that, as I stood +in the salon with Etienne and Woloda, at a spot whence we could both +see and be seen by Sonetchka, I took great pleasure in talking very loud +(and all my utterances seemed to me both bold and comical) and glancing +towards the door of the drawing-room, but that, as soon as ever we +happened to move to another spot whence we could neither see nor be seen +by her, I became dumb, and thought the conversation had ceased to be +enjoyable. The rooms were now full of people--among them (as at all +children's parties) a number of elder children who wished to dance and +enjoy themselves very much, but who pretended to do everything merely in +order to give pleasure to the mistress of the house. + +When the Iwins arrived I found that, instead of being as delighted as +usual to meet Seriosha, I felt a kind of vexation that he should see and +be seen by Sonetchka. + + + + +XXI -- BEFORE THE MAZURKA + +"HULLO, Woloda! So we are going to dance to-night," said Seriosha, +issuing from the drawing-room and taking out of his pocket a brand new +pair of gloves. "I suppose it IS necessary to put on gloves?" + +"Goodness! What shall I do? We have no gloves," I thought to myself. +"I must go upstairs and search about." Yet though I rummaged in every +drawer, I only found, in one of them, my green travelling mittens, and, +in another, a single lilac-coloured glove, a thing which could be of no +use to me, firstly, because it was very old and dirty, secondly, because +it was much too large for me, and thirdly (and principally), because the +middle finger was wanting--Karl having long ago cut it off to wear over +a sore nail. + +However, I put it on--not without some diffident contemplation of the +blank left by the middle finger and of the ink-stained edges round the +vacant space. + +"If only Natalia Savishna had been here," I reflected, "we should +certainly have found some gloves. I can't go downstairs in this +condition. Yet, if they ask me why I am not dancing, what am I to say? +However, I can't remain here either, or they will be sending upstairs to +fetch me. What on earth am I to do?" and I wrung my hands. + +"What are you up to here?" asked Woloda as he burst into the room. "Go +and engage a partner. The dancing will be beginning directly." + +"Woloda," I said despairingly, as I showed him my hand with two fingers +thrust into a single finger of the dirty glove, "Woloda, you, never +thought of this." + +"Of what?" he said impatiently. "Oh, of gloves," he added with a +careless glance at my hand. "That's nothing. We can ask Grandmamma what +she thinks about it," and without further ado he departed downstairs. I +felt a trifle relieved by the coolness with which he had met a situation +which seemed to me so grave, and hastened back to the drawing-room, +completely forgetful of the unfortunate glove which still adorned my +left hand. + +Cautiously approaching Grandmamma's arm-chair, I asked her in a whisper: + +"Grandmamma, what are we to do? We have no gloves." + +"What, my love?" + +"We have no gloves," I repeated, at the same time bending over towards +her and laying both hands on the arm of her chair. + +"But what is that?" she cried as she caught hold of my left hand. +"Look, my dear!" she continued, turning to Madame Valakhin. "See how +smart this young man has made himself to dance with your daughter!" + +As Grandmamma persisted in retaining hold of my hand and gazing with a +mock air of gravity and interrogation at all around her, curiosity was +soon aroused, and a general roar of laughter ensued. + +I should have been infuriated at the thought that Seriosha was present +to see this, as I scowled with embarrassment and struggled hard to free +my hand, had it not been that somehow Sonetchka's laughter (and she was +laughing to such a degree that the tears were standing in her eyes +and the curls dancing about her lovely face) took away my feeling +of humiliation. I felt that her laughter was not satirical, but only +natural and free; so that, as we laughed together and looked at one +another, there seemed to begin a kind of sympathy between us. Instead +of turning out badly, therefore, the episode of the glove served only +to set me at my ease among the dreaded circle of guests, and to make +me cease to feel oppressed with shyness. The sufferings of shy people +proceed only from the doubts which they feel concerning the opinions +of their fellows. No sooner are those opinions expressed (whether +flattering or the reverse) than the agony disappears. + +How lovely Sonetchka looked when she was dancing a quadrille as my +vis-a-vis, with, as her partner, the loutish Prince Etienne! How +charmingly she smiled when, en chaine, she accorded me her hand! How +gracefully the curls, around her head nodded to the rhythm, and how +naively she executed the jete assemble with her little feet! + +In the fifth figure, when my partner had to leave me for the other +side and I, counting the beats, was getting ready to dance my solo, she +pursed her lips gravely and looked in another direction; but her fears +for me were groundless. Boldly I performed the chasse en avant and +chasse en arriere glissade, until, when it came to my turn to move +towards her and I, with a comic gesture, showed her the poor glove with +its crumpled fingers, she laughed heartily, and seemed to move her tiny +feet more enchantingly than ever over the parquetted floor. + +How well I remember how we formed the circle, and how, without +withdrawing her hand from mine, she scratched her little nose with +her glove! All this I can see before me still. Still can I hear the +quadrille from "The Maids of the Danube" to which we danced that night. + +The second quadrille, I danced with Sonetchka herself; yet when we went +to sit down together during the interval, I felt overcome with shyness +and as though I had nothing to say. At last, when my silence had lasted +so long that I began to be afraid that she would think me a stupid boy, +I decided at all hazards to counteract such a notion. + +"Vous etes une habitante de Moscou?" I began, and, on receiving an +affirmative answer, continued. "Et moi, je n'ai encore jamais frequente +la capitale" (with a particular emphasis on the word "frequente"). Yet I +felt that, brilliant though this introduction might be as evidence of my +profound knowledge of the French language, I could not long keep up the +conversation in that manner. Our turn for dancing had not yet arrived, +and silence again ensued between us. I kept looking anxiously at her in +the hope both of discerning what impression I had produced and of her +coming to my aid. + +"Where did you get that ridiculous glove of yours?" she asked me all of +a sudden, and the question afforded me immense satisfaction and relief. +I replied that the glove belonged to Karl Ivanitch, and then went on +to speak ironically of his appearance, and to describe how comical he +looked in his red cap, and how he and his green coat had once fallen +plump off a horse into a pond. + +The quadrille was soon over. Yet why had I spoken ironically of poor +Karl Ivanitch? Should I, forsooth, have sunk in Sonetchka's esteem if, +on the contrary, I had spoken of him with the love and respect which I +undoubtedly bore him? + +The quadrille ended, Sonetchka said, "Thank you," with as lovely an +expression on her face as though I had really conferred, upon her a +favour. I was delighted. In fact I hardly knew myself for joy and could +not think whence I derived such case and confidence and even daring. + +"Nothing in the world can abash me now," I thought as I wandered +carelessly about the salon. "I am ready for anything." + +Just then Seriosha came and requested me to be his vis-a-vis. + +"Very well," I said. "I have no partner as yet, but I can soon find +one." + +Glancing round the salon with a confident eye, I saw that every lady was +engaged save one--a tall girl standing near the drawing-room door. Yet a +grown-up young man was approaching her-probably for the same purpose as +myself! He was but two steps from her, while I was at the further end +of the salon. Doing a glissade over the polished floor, I covered the +intervening space, and in a brave, firm voice asked the favour of her +hand in the quadrille. Smiling with a protecting air, the young lady +accorded me her hand, and the tall young man was left without a partner. +I felt so conscious of my strength that I paid no attention to his +irritation, though I learnt later that he had asked somebody who the +awkward, untidy boy was who, had taken away his lady from him. + + + + +XXII -- THE MAZURKA + +AFTERWARDS the same young man formed one of the first couple in a +mazurka. He sprang to his feet, took his partner's hand, and then, +instead of executing the pas de Basques which Mimi had taught us, glided +forward till he arrived at a corner of the room, stopped, divided his +feet, turned on his heels, and, with a spring, glided back again. I, who +had found no partner for this particular dance and was sitting on the +arm of Grandmamma's chair, thought to myself: + +"What on earth is he doing? That is not what Mimi taught us. And there +are the Iwins and Etienne all dancing in the same way-without the pas de +Basques! Ah! and there is Woloda too! He too is adopting the new style, +and not so badly either. And there is Sonetchka, the lovely one! Yes, +there she comes!" I felt immensely happy at that moment. + +The mazurka came to an end, and already some of the guests were saying +good-bye to Grandmamma. She was evidently tired, yet she assured them +that she felt vexed at their early departure. Servants were gliding +about with plates and trays among the dancers, and the musicians were +carelessly playing the same tune for about the thirteenth time in +succession, when the young lady whom I had danced with before, and who +was just about to join in another mazurka, caught sight of me, and, with +a kindly smile, led me to Sonetchka And one of the innumerable Kornakoff +princesses, at the same time asking me, "Rose or Hortie?" + +"Ah, so it's YOU!" said Grandmamma as she turned round in her armchair. +"Go and dance, then, my boy." + +Although I would fain have taken refuge behind the armchair rather than +leave its shelter, I could not refuse; so I got up, said, "Rose," and +looked at Sonetchka. Before I had time to realise it, however, a hand in +a white glove laid itself on mine, and the Kornakoff girl stepped forth +with a pleased smile and evidently no suspicion that I was ignorant of +the steps of the dance. I only knew that the pas de Basques (the only +figure of it which I had been taught) would be out of place. However, +the strains of the mazurka falling upon my ears, and imparting their +usual impulse to my acoustic nerves (which, in their turn, imparted +their usual impulse to my feet), I involuntarily, and to the amazement +of the spectators, began executing on tiptoe the sole (and fatal) pas +which I had been taught. + +So long as we went straight ahead I kept fairly right, but when it came +to turning I saw that I must make preparations to arrest my course. +Accordingly, to avoid any appearance of awkwardness, I stopped short, +with the intention of imitating the "wheel about" which I had seen the +young man perform so neatly. + +Unfortunately, just as I divided my feet and prepared to make a spring, +the Princess Kornakoff looked sharply round at my legs with such an +expression of stupefied amazement and curiosity that the glance undid +me. Instead of continuing to dance, I remained moving my legs up and +down on the same spot, in a sort of extraordinary fashion which bore +no relation whatever either to form or rhythm. At last I stopped +altogether. Every-one was looking at me--some with curiosity, some with +astonishment, some with disdain, and some with compassion, Grandmamma +alone seemed unmoved. + +"You should not dance if you don't know the step," said Papa's angry +voice in my ear as, pushing me gently aside, he took my partner's hand, +completed the figures with her to the admiration of every one, and +finally led her back to, her place. The mazurka was at an end. + +Ah me! What had I done to be punished so heavily? + +***** + +"Every one despises me, and will always despise me," I thought to +myself. "The way is closed for me to friendship, love, and fame! All, +all is lost!" + +Why had Woloda made signs to me which every one saw, yet which could in +no way help me? Why had that disgusting princess looked at my legs? Why +had Sonetchka--she was a darling, of course!--yet why, oh why, had she +smiled at that moment? + +Why had Papa turned red and taken my hand? Can it be that he was ashamed +of me? + +Oh, it was dreadful! Alas, if only Mamma had been there she would never +have blushed for her Nicolinka! + +How on the instant that dear image led my imagination captive! I seemed +to see once more the meadow before our house, the tall lime-trees in the +garden, the clear pond where the ducks swain, the blue sky dappled with +white clouds, the sweet-smelling ricks of hay. How those memories--aye, +and many another quiet, beloved recollection--floated through my mind at +that time! + + + + +XXIII -- AFTER THE MAZURKA + +At supper the young man whom I have mentioned seated himself beside +me at the children's table, and treated me with an amount of attention +which would have flattered my self-esteem had I been able, after the +occurrence just related, to give a thought to anything beyond my failure +in the mazurka. However, the young man seemed determined to cheer me +up. He jested, called me "old boy," and finally (since none of the +elder folks were looking at us) began to help me to wine, first from one +bottle and then from another and to force me to drink it off quickly. + +By the time (towards the end of supper) that a servant had poured me out +a quarter of a glass of champagne, and the young man had straightway bid +him fill it up and urged me to drink the beverage off at a draught, I +had begun to feel a grateful warmth diffusing itself through my body. +I also felt well-disposed towards my kind patron, and began to laugh +heartily at everything. Suddenly the music of the Grosvater dance struck +up, and every one rushed from the table. My friendship with the young +man had now outlived its day; so, whereas he joined a group of the older +folks, I approached Madame Valakhin hear what she and her daughter had +to say to one another. + +"Just HALF-an-hour more?" Sonetchka was imploring her. + +"Impossible, my dearest." + +"Yet, only to please me--just this ONCE?" Sonetchka went on +persuasively. + +"Well, what if I should be ill to-morrow through all this dissipation?" +rejoined her mother, and was incautious enough to smile. + +"There! You DO consent, and we CAN stay after all!" exclaimed Sonetchka, +jumping for joy. + +"What is to be done with such a girl?" said Madame. "Well, run away and +dance. See," she added on perceiving myself, "here is a cavalier ready +waiting for you." + +Sonetchka gave me her hand, and we darted off to the salon, The wine, +added to Sonetchka's presence and gaiety, had at once made me forget +all about the unfortunate end of the mazurka. I kept executing the most +splendid feats with my legs--now imitating a horse as he throws out his +hoofs in the trot, now stamping like a sheep infuriated at a dog, and +all the while laughing regardless of appearances. + +Sonetchka also laughed unceasingly, whether we were whirling round in +a circle or whether we stood still to watch an old lady whose painful +movements with her feet showed the difficulty she had in walking. +Finally Sonetchka nearly died of merriment when I jumped half-way to the +ceiling in proof of my skill. + +As I passed a mirror in Grandmamma's boudoir and glanced at myself +I could see that my face was all in a perspiration and my hair +dishevelled--the top-knot, in particular, being more erect than ever. +Yet my general appearance looked so happy, healthy, and good-tempered +that I felt wholly pleased with myself. + +"If I were always as I am now," I thought, "I might yet be able to +please people with my looks." Yet as soon as I glanced at my partner's +face again, and saw there not only the expression of happiness, health, +and good temper which had just pleased me in my own, but also a fresh +and enchanting beauty besides, I felt dissatisfied with myself again. +I understood how silly of me it was to hope to attract the attention +of such a wonderful being as Sonetchka. I could not hope for +reciprocity--could not even think of it, yet my heart was overflowing +with happiness. I could not imagine that the feeling of love which was +filling my soul so pleasantly could require any happiness still greater, +or wish for more than that that happiness should never cease. I felt +perfectly contented. My heart beat like that of a dove, with the blood +constantly flowing back to it, and I almost wept for joy. + +As we passed through the hall and peered into a little dark store-room +beneath the staircase I thought: "What bliss it would be if I could pass +the rest of my life with her in that dark corner, and never let anybody +know that we were there!" + +"It HAS been a delightful evening, hasn't it?" I asked her in a low, +tremulous voice. Then I quickened my steps--as much out of fear of what +I had said as out of fear of what I had meant to imply. + +"Yes, VERY!" she answered, and turned her face to look at me with an +expression so kind that I ceased to be afraid. I went on: + +"Particularly since supper. Yet if you could only know how I regret" (I +had nearly said) "how miserable I am at your going, and to think that +we shall see each other no more!" + +"But why SHOULDN'T we?" she asked, looking gravely at the corner of +her pocket-handkerchief, and gliding her fingers over a latticed screen +which we were passing. "Every Tuesday and Friday I go with Mamma to the +Iverskoi Prospect. I suppose you go for walks too sometimes?" + +"Well, certainly I shall ask to go for one next Tuesday, and, if they +won't take me I shall go by myself--even without my hat, if necessary. I +know the way all right." + +"Do you know what I have just thought of?" she went on. "You know, I +call some of the boys who come to see us THOU. Shall you and I call each +other THOU too? Wilt THOU?" she added, bending her head towards me and +looking me straight in the eyes. + +At this moment a more lively section of the Grosvater dance began. + +"Give me your hand," I said, under the impression that the music and din +would drown my exact words, but she smilingly replied, "THY hand, not +YOUR hand." Yet the dance was over before I had succeeded in saying +THOU, even though I kept conning over phrases in which the pronoun could +be employed--and employed more than once. All that I wanted was the +courage to say it. + +"Wilt THOU?" and "THY hand" sounded continually in my ears, and caused +in me a kind of intoxication I could hear and see nothing but Sonetchka. +I watched her mother take her curls, lay them flat behind her ears (thus +disclosing portions of her forehead and temples which I had not yet +seen), and wrap her up so completely in the green shawl that nothing was +left visible but the tip of her nose. Indeed, I could see that, if her +little rosy fingers had not made a small, opening near her mouth, she +would have been unable to breathe. Finally I saw her leave her mother's +arm for an instant on the staircase, and turn and nod to us quickly +before she disappeared through the doorway. + +Woloda, the Iwins, the young Prince Etienne, and myself were all of us +in love with Sonetchka and all of us standing on the staircase to follow +her with our eyes. To whom in particular she had nodded I do not know, +but at the moment I firmly believed it to be myself. In taking leave +of the Iwins, I spoke quite unconcernedly, and even coldly, to Seriosha +before I finally shook hands with him. Though he tried to appear +absolutely indifferent, I think that he understood that from that day +forth he had lost both my affection and his power over me, as well as +that he regretted it. + + + + +XXIV -- IN BED + +"How could I have managed to be so long and so passionately devoted to +Seriosha?" I asked myself as I lay in bed that night. "He never either +understood, appreciated, or deserved my love. But Sonetchka! What a +darling SHE is! 'Wilt THOU?'--'THY hand'!" + +I crept closer to the pillows, imagined to myself her lovely face, +covered my head over with the bedclothes, tucked the counterpane in on +all sides, and, thus snugly covered, lay quiet and enjoying the warmth +until I became wholly absorbed in pleasant fancies and reminiscences. + +If I stared fixedly at the inside of the sheet above me I found that I +could see her as clearly as I had done an hour ago could talk to her in +my thoughts, and, though it was a conversation of irrational tenor, I +derived the greatest delight from it, seeing that "THOU" and "THINE" and +"for THEE" and "to THEE" occurred in it incessantly. These fancies were +so vivid that I could not sleep for the sweetness of my emotion, and +felt as though I must communicate my superabundant happiness to some +one. + +"The darling!" I said, half-aloud, as I turned over; then, "Woloda, are +you asleep?" + +"No," he replied in a sleepy voice. "What's the matter?" + +"I am in love, Woloda--terribly in love with Sonetchka" + +"Well? Anything else?" he replied, stretching himself. + +"Oh, but you cannot imagine what I feel just now, as I lay covered over +with the counterpane, I could see her and talk to her so clearly that +it was marvellous! And, do you know, while I was lying thinking about +her--I don't know why it was, but all at once I felt so sad that I could +have cried." + +Woloda made a movement of some sort. + +"One thing only I wish for," I continued; "and that is that I could +always be with her and always be seeing her. Just that. You are in love +too, I believe. Confess that you are." + +It was strange, but somehow I wanted every one to be in love with +Sonetchka, and every one to tell me that they were so. + +"So that's how it is with you? " said Woloda, turning round to me. +"Well, I can understand it." + +"I can see that you cannot sleep," I remarked, observing by his bright +eyes that he was anything but drowsy. "Well, cover yourself over SO" +(and I pulled the bedclothes over him), "and then let us talk about her. +Isn't she splendid? If she were to say to me, 'Nicolinka, jump out of +the window,' or 'jump into the fire,' I should say, 'Yes, I will do it +at once and rejoice in doing it.' Oh, how glorious she is!" + +I went on picturing her again and again to my imagination, and, to enjoy +the vision the better, turned over on my side and buried my head in the +pillows, murmuring, "Oh, I want to cry, Woloda." + +"What a fool you are!" he said with a slight laugh. Then, after a +moment's silence he added: "I am not like you. I think I would rather +sit and talk with her." + +"Ah! Then you ARE in love with her!" I interrupted. + +"And then," went on Woloda, smiling tenderly, "kiss her fingers and eyes +and lips and nose and feet--kiss all of her." + +"How absurd!" I exclaimed from beneath the pillows. + +"Ah, you don't understand things," said Woloda with contempt. + +"I DO understand. It's you who don't understand things, and you talk +rubbish, too," I replied, half-crying. + +"Well, there is nothing to cry about," he concluded. "She is only a +girl." + + + + +XXV -- THE LETTER + +ON the 16th of April, nearly six months after the day just described, +Papa entered our schoolroom and told us that that night we must start +with him for our country house. I felt a pang at my heart when I heard +the news, and my thoughts at once turned to Mamma, The cause of our +unexpected departure was the following letter: + +"PETROVSKOE, 12th April. + +"Only this moment (i.e. at ten o'clock in the evening) have I received +your dear letter of the 3rd of April, but as usual, I answer it at once. +Fedor brought it yesterday from town, but, as it was late, he did not +give it to Mimi till this morning, and Mimi (since I was unwell) kept +it from me all day. I have been a little feverish. In fact, to tell the +truth, this is the fourth day that I have been in bed. + +"Yet do not be uneasy. I feel almost myself again now, and if Ivan +Vassilitch should allow me, I think of getting up to-morrow. + +"On Friday last I took the girls for a drive, and, close to the little +bridge by the turning on to the high road (the place which always makes +me nervous), the horses and carriage stuck fast in the mud. Well, the +day being fine, I thought that we would walk a little up the road until +the carriage should be extricated, but no sooner had we reached the +chapel than I felt obliged to sit down, I was so tired, and in this way +half-an-hour passed while help was being sent for to get the carriage +dug out. I felt cold, for I had only thin boots on, and they had been +wet through. After luncheon too, I had alternate cold and hot fits, yet +still continued to follow our ordinary routine. + +"When tea was over I sat down to the piano to play a duct with +Lubotshka, (you would be astonished to hear what progress she has +made!), but imagine my surprise when I found that I could not count the +beats! Several times I began to do so, yet always felt confused in +my head, and kept hearing strange noises in my ears. I would begin +'One-two-three--' and then suddenly go on '-eight-fifteen,' and so on, +as though I were talking nonsense and could not help it. At last Mimi +came to my assistance and forced me to retire to bed. That was how my +illness began, and it was all through my own fault. The next day I had +a good deal of fever, and our good Ivan Vassilitch came. He has not left +us since, but promises soon to restore me to the world. + +"What a wonderful old man he is! While I was feverish and delirious he +sat the whole night by my bedside without once closing his eyes; and at +this moment (since he knows I am busy writing) he is with the girls in +the divannaia, and I can hear him telling them German stories, and them +laughing as they listen to him. + +"'La Belle Flamande,' as you call her, is now spending her second week +here as my guest (her mother having gone to pay a visit somewhere), and +she is most attentive and attached to me, She even tells me her secret +affairs. Under different circumstances her beautiful face, good temper, +and youth might have made a most excellent girl of her, but in the +society in which according to her own account, she moves she will be +wasted. The idea has more than once occurred to me that, had I not had +so many children of my own, it would have been a deed of mercy to have +adopted her. + +"Lubotshka had meant to write to you herself, but she has torn up three +sheets of paper, saying: 'I know what a quizzer Papa always is. If he +were to find a single fault in my letter he would show it to everybody.' +Katenka is as charming as usual, and Mimi, too, is good, but tiresome. + +"Now let me speak of more serious matters. You write to me that your +affairs are not going well this winter, and that you wish to break into +the revenues of Chabarovska. It seems to me strange that you should +think it necessary to ask my consent. Surely what belongs to me belongs +no less to you? You are so kind-hearted, dear, that, for fear of +worrying me, you conceal the real state of things, but I can guess that +you have lost a great deal at cards, as also that you are afraid of my +being angry at that. Yet, so long as you can tide over this crisis, I +shall not think much of it, and you need not be uneasy, I have grown +accustomed to no longer relying, so far as the children are concerned, +upon your gains at play, nor yet--excuse me for saying so--upon your +income. Therefore your losses cause me as little anxiety as your gains +give me pleasure. What I really grieve over is your unhappy passion +itself for gambling--a passion which bereaves me of part of your tender +affection and obliges me to tell you such bitter truths as (God knows +with what pain) I am now telling you. I never cease to beseech Him that +He may preserve us, not from poverty (for what is poverty?), but from +the terrible juncture which would arise should the interests of the +children, which I am called upon to protect, ever come into collision +with our own. Hitherto God has listened to my prayers. You have never +yet overstepped the limit beyond which we should be obliged either +to sacrifice property which would no longer belong to us, but to the +children, or--It is terrible to think of, but the dreadful misfortune +at which I hint is forever hanging over our heads. Yes, it is the heavy +cross which God has given us both to carry. + +"Also, you write about the children, and come back to our old point +of difference by asking my consent to your placing them at a +boarding-school. You know my objection to that kind of education. I +do not know, dear, whether you will accede to my request, but I +nevertheless beseech you, by your love for me, to give me your promise +that never so long as I am alive, nor yet after my death (if God should +see fit to separate us), shall such a thing be done. + +"Also you write that our affairs render it indispensable for you to +visit St. Petersburg. The Lord go with you! Go and return as, soon as +possible. Without you we shall all of us be lonely. + +"Spring is coming in beautifully. We keep the door on to the terrace +always open now, while the path to the orangery is dry and the +peach-trees are in full blossom. Only here and there is there a little +snow remaining, The swallows are arriving, and to-day Lubotshka brought +me the first flowers. The doctor says that in about three days' time I +shall be well again and able to take the open air and to enjoy the April +sun. Now, au revoir, my dearest one. Do not be alarmed, I beg of you, +either on account of my illness or on account of your losses at play. +End the crisis as soon as possible, and then return here with the +children for the summer. I am making wonderful plans for our passing of +it, and I only need your presence to realise them." + +The rest of the letter was written in French, as well as in a strange, +uncertain hand, on another piece of paper. I transcribe it word for +word: + +"Do not believe what I have just written to you about my illness. It is +more serious than any one knows. I alone know that I shall never leave +my bed again. Do not, therefore, delay a minute in coming here with the +children. Perhaps it may yet be permitted me to embrace and bless them. +It is my last wish that it should be so. I know what a terrible blow +this will be to you, but you would have had to hear it sooner or +later--if not from me, at least from others. Let us try to, bear the +Calamity with fortitude, and place our trust in the mercy of God. Let +us submit ourselves to His will. Do not think that what I am writing is +some delusion of my sick imagination. On the contrary, I am perfectly +clear at this moment, and absolutely calm. Nor must you comfort yourself +with the false hope that these are the unreal, confused feelings of a +despondent spirit, for I feel indeed, I know, since God has deigned to +reveal it to me--that I have now but a very short time to live. Will my +love for you and the children cease with my life? I know that that can +never be. At this moment I am too full of that love to be capable of +believing that such a feeling (which constitutes a part of my very +existence) can ever, perish. My soul can never lack its love for you; +and I know that that love will exist for ever, since such a feeling +could never have been awakened if it were not to be eternal. I shall no +longer be with you, yet I firmly believe that my love will cleave to +you always, and from that thought I glean such comfort that I await the +approach of death calmly and without fear. Yes, I am calm, and God knows +that I have ever looked, and do look now, upon death as no mere than the +passage to a better life. Yet why do tears blind my eyes? Why should the +children lose a mother's love? Why must you, my husband, experience such +a heavy and unlooked-for blow? Why must I die when your love was making +life so inexpressibly happy for me? + +"But His holy will be done! + +"The tears prevent my writing more. It may be that I shall never see you +again. I thank you, my darling beyond all price, for all the felicity +with which you have surrounded me in this life. Soon I shall appear +before God Himself to pray that He may reward you. Farewell, my dearest! +Remember that, if I am no longer here, my love will none the less NEVER +AND NOWHERE fail you. Farewell, Woloda--farewell, my pet! Farewell, my +Benjamin, my little Nicolinka! Surely they will never forget me?" + +With this letter had come also a French note from Mimi, in which the +latter said: + +"The sad circumstances of which she has written to you are but too +surely confirmed by the words of the doctor. Yesterday evening she +ordered the letter to be posted at once, but, thinking at she did so in +delirium, I waited until this morning, with the intention of sealing and +sending it then. Hardly had I done so when Natalia Nicolaevna asked +me what I had done with the letter and told me to burn it if not yet +despatched. She is forever speaking of it, and saying that it will kill +you. Do not delay your departure for an instant if you wish to see the +angel before she leaves us. Pray excuse this scribble, but I have not +slept now for three nights. You know how much I love her." + +Later I heard from Natalia Savishna (who passed the whole of the night +of the 11th April at Mamma's bedside) that, after writing the first part +of the letter, Mamma laid it down upon the table beside her and went to +sleep for a while. + +"I confess," said Natalia Savishna, "that I too fell asleep in the +arm-chair, and let my knitting slip from my hands. Suddenly, towards one +o'clock in the morning, I heard her saying something; whereupon I opened +my eyes and looked at her. My darling was sitting up in bed, with her +hands clasped together and streams of tears gushing from her eyes. + +"'It is all over now,' she said, and hid her face in her hands. + +"I sprang to my feet, and asked what the matter was. + +"'Ah, Natalia Savishna, if you could only know what I have just +seen!' she said; yet, for all my asking, she would say no more, +beyond commanding me to hand her the letter. To that letter she added +something, and then said that it must be sent off directly. From that +moment she grew, rapidly worse." + + + + +XXVI -- WHAT AWAITED US AT THE COUNTRY-HOUSE + +On the 18th of April we descended from the carriage at the front door +of the house at Petrovskoe. All the way from Moscow Papa had been +preoccupied, and when Woloda had asked him "whether Mamma was ill" he +had looked at him sadly and nodded an affirmative. Nevertheless he had +grown more composed during the journey, and it was only when we were +actually approaching the house that his face again began to grow +anxious, until, as he leaped from the carriage and asked Foka (who +had run breathlessly to meet us), "How is Natalia Nicolaevna now?" his +voice, was trembling, and his eyes had filled with tears. The good, old +Foka looked at us, and then lowered his gaze again. Finally he said as +he opened the hall-door and turned his head aside: "It is the sixth day +since she has not left her bed." + +Milka (who, as we afterwards learned, had never ceased to whine from the +day when Mamma was taken ill) came leaping, joyfully to meet Papa, and +barking a welcome as she licked his hands, but Papa put her aside, and +went first to the drawing-room, and then into the divannaia, from which +a door led into the bedroom. The nearer he approached the latter, the +more, did his movements express the agitation that he felt. Entering the +divannaia he crossed it on tiptoe, seeming to hold his breath. Even then +he had to stop and make the sign of the cross before he could summon up +courage to turn the handle. At the same moment Mimi, with dishevelled +hair and eyes red with weeping came hastily out of the corridor. + +"Ah, Peter Alexandritch!" she said in a whisper and with a marked +expression of despair. Then, observing that Papa was trying to open the +door, she whispered again: + +"Not here. This door is locked. Go round to the door on the other side." + +Oh, how terribly all this wrought upon my imagination, racked as it was +by grief and terrible forebodings! + +So we went round to the other side. In the corridor we met the gardener, +Akim, who had been wont to amuse us with his grimaces, but at this +moment I could see nothing comical in him. Indeed, the sight of his +thoughtless, indifferent face struck me more painfully than anything +else. In the maidservants' hall, through which we had to pass, two maids +were sitting at their work, but rose to salute us with an expression so +mournful that I felt completely overwhelmed. + +Passing also through Mimi's room, Papa opened the door of the bedroom, +and we entered. The two windows on the right were curtained over, and +close to them was seated, Natalia Savishna, spectacles on nose and +engaged in darning stockings. She did not approach us to kiss me as she +had been used to do, but just rose and looked at us, her tears beginning +to flow afresh. Somehow it frightened me to see every one, on beholding +us, begin to cry, although they had been calm enough before. + +On the left stood the bed behind a screen, while in the great arm-chair +the doctor lay asleep. Beside the bed a young, fair-haired and +remarkably beautiful girl in a white morning wrapper was applying ice to +Mamma's head, but Mamma herself I could not see. This girl was "La +Belle Flamande" of whom Mamma had written, and who afterwards played so +important a part in our family life. As we entered she disengaged one +of her hands, straightened the pleats of her dress on her bosom, and +whispered, "She is insensible." Though I was in an agony of grief, I +observed at that moment every little detail. + +It was almost dark in the room, and very hot, while the air was heavy +with the mingled, scent of mint, eau-de-cologne, camomile, and Hoffman's +pastilles. The latter ingredient caught my attention so strongly that +even now I can never hear of it, or even think of it, without my memory +carrying me back to that dark, close room, and all the details of that +dreadful time. + +Mamma's eyes were wide open, but they could not see us. Never shall I +forget the terrible expression in them--the expression of agonies of +suffering! + +Then we were taken away. + +When, later, I was able to ask Natalia Savishna about Mamma's last +moments she told me the following: + +"After you were taken out of the room, my beloved one struggled for a +long time, as though some one were trying to strangle her. Then at last +she laid her head back upon the pillow, and slept softly, peacefully, +like an angel from Heaven. I went away for a moment to see about her +medicine, and just as I entered the room again my darling was throwing +the bedclothes from off her and calling for your Papa. He stooped over +her, but strength failed her to say what she wanted to. All she could +do was to open her lips and gasp, 'My God, my God! The children, the +children!' I would have run to fetch you, but Ivan Vassilitch stopped +me, saying that it would only excite her--it were best not to do so. +Then suddenly she stretched her arms out and dropped them again. What +she meant by that gesture the good God alone knows, but I think that in +it she was blessing you--you the children whom she could not see. God +did not grant her to see her little ones before her death. Then she +raised herself up--did my love, my darling--yes, just so with her hands, +and exclaimed in a voice which I cannot bear to remember, 'Mother of +God, never forsake them!'" + +"Then the pain mounted to her heart, and from her eyes it as, plain that +she suffered terribly, my poor one! She sank back upon the pillows, tore +the bedclothes with her teeth, and wept--wept--" + +"Yes and what then?" I asked but Natalia Savishna could say no more. She +turned away and cried bitterly. + +Mamma had expired in terrible agonies. + + + + +XXVII -- GRIEF + +LATE the following evening I thought I would like to look at her once +more; so, conquering an involuntary sense of fear, I gently opened the +door of the salon and entered on tiptoe. + +In the middle of the room, on a table, lay the coffin, with wax candles +burning all round it on tall silver candelabra. In the further corner +sat the chanter, reading the Psalms in a low, monotonous voice. I +stopped at the door and tried to look, but my eyes were so weak with +crying, and my nerves so terribly on edge, that I could distinguish +nothing. Every object seemed to mingle together in a strange blur--the +candles, the brocade, the velvet, the great candelabra, the pink satin +cushion trimmed with lace, the chaplet of flowers, the ribboned cap, and +something of a transparent, wax-like colour. I mounted a chair to see +her face, yet where it should have been I could see only that wax-like, +transparent something. I could not believe it to be her face. Yet, as +I stood grazing at it, I at last recognised the well-known, beloved +features. I shuddered with horror to realise that it WAS she. Why were +those eyes so sunken? What had laid that dreadful paleness upon her +cheeks, and stamped the black spot beneath the transparent skin on one +of them? Why was the expression of the whole face so cold and severe? +Why were the lips so white, and their outline so beautiful, so majestic, +so expressive of an unnatural calm that, as I looked at them, a chill +shudder ran through my hair and down my back? + +Somehow, as I gazed, an irrepressible, incomprehensible power seemed +to compel me to keep my eyes fixed upon that lifeless face. I could not +turn away, and my imagination began to picture before me scenes of her +active life and happiness. I forgot that the corpse lying before me +now--the THING at which I was gazing unconsciously as at an object which +had nothing in common with my dreams--was SHE. I fancied I could +see her--now here, now there, alive, happy, and smiling. Then some +well-known feature in the face at which I was gazing would suddenly +arrest my attention, and in a flash I would recall the terrible reality +and shudder-though still unable to turn my eyes away. + +Then again the dreams would replace reality--then again the reality put +to flight the dreams. At last the consciousness of both left me, and for +a while I became insensible. + +How long I remained in that condition I do not know, nor yet how it +occurred. I only know that for a time I lost all sense of existence, and +experienced a kind of vague blissfulness which though grand and sweet, +was also sad. It may be that, as it ascended to a better world, her +beautiful soul had looked down with longing at the world in which she +had left us--that it had seen my sorrow, and, pitying me, had returned +to earth on the wings of love to console and bless me with a heavenly +smile of compassion. + +The door creaked as the chanter entered who was to relieve his +predecessor. The noise awakened me, and my first thought was that, +seeing me standing on the chair in a posture which had nothing touching +in its aspect, he might take me for an unfeeling boy who had climbed +on to the chair out of mere curiosity: wherefore I hastened to make the +sign of the cross, to bend down my head, and to burst out crying. As I +recall now my impressions of that episode I find that it was only during +my moments of self-forgetfulness that my grief was wholehearted. True, +both before and after the funeral I never ceased to cry and to look +miserable, yet I feel conscience-stricken when I recall that grief +of mine, seeing that always present in it there was an element of +conceit--of a desire to show that I was more grieved than any one else, +of an interest which I took in observing the effect, produced upon +others by my tears, and of an idle curiosity leading me to remark +Mimi's bonnet and the faces of all present. The mere circumstance that +I despised myself for not feeling grief to the exclusion of everything +else, and that I endeavoured to conceal the fact, shows that my sadness +was insincere and unnatural. I took a delight in feeling that I was +unhappy, and in trying to feel more so. Consequently this egotistic +consciousness completely annulled any element of sincerity in my woe. + +That night I slept calmly and soundly (as is usual after any great +emotion), and awoke with my tears dried and my nerves restored. At ten +o'clock we were summoned to attend the pre-funeral requiem. + +The room was full of weeping servants and peasants who had come to bid +farewell to their late mistress. During the service I myself wept +a great deal, made frequent signs of the cross, and performed many +genuflections, but I did not pray with, my soul, and felt, if anything, +almost indifferent, My thoughts were chiefly centred upon the new coat +which I was wearing (a garment which was tight and uncomfortable) and +upon how to avoid soiling my trousers at the knees. Also I took the most +minute notice of all present. + +Papa stood at the head of the coffin. He was as white as snow, and +only with difficulty restrained his tears. His tall figure in its black +frockcoat, his pale, expressive face, the graceful, assured manner in +which, as usual, he made the sign of the cross or bowed until he touched +the floor with his hand [A custom of the Greek funeral rite.] or took +the candle from the priest or went to the coffin--all were exceedingly +effective; yet for some reason or another I felt a grudge against him +for that very ability to appear effective at such a moment. Mimi stood +leaning against the wall as though scarcely able to support herself. Her +dress was all awry and covered with feathers, and her cap cocked to one +side, while her eyes were red with weeping, her legs trembling under +her, and she sobbed incessantly in a heartrending manner as ever and +again she buried her face in her handkerchief or her hands. I imagine +that she did this to check her continual sobbing without being seen by +the spectators. I remember, too, her telling Papa, the evening before, +that Mamma's death had come upon her as a blow from which she could +never hope to recover; that with Mamma she had lost everything; but that +"the angel," as she called my mother, had not forgotten her when at the +point of death, since she had declared her wish to render her (Mimi's) +and Katenka's fortunes secure for ever. Mimi had shed bitter tears +while relating this, and very likely her sorrow, if not wholly pure and +disinterested, was in the main sincere. Lubotshka, in black garments +and suffused with tears, stood with her head bowed upon her breast. She +rarely looked at the coffin, yet whenever she did so her face expressed +a sort of childish fear. Katenka stood near her mother, and, despite +her lengthened face, looked as lovely as ever. Woloda's frank nature +was frank also in grief. He stood looking grave and as though he were +staring at some object with fixed eyes. Then suddenly his lips would +begin to quiver, and he would hastily make the sign of the cross, and +bend his head again. + +Such of those present as were strangers I found intolerable. In fact, +the phrases of condolence with which they addressed Papa (such, for +instance, as that "she is better off now" "she was too good for this +world," and so on) awakened in me something like fury. What right had +they to weep over or to talk about her? Some of them, in referring to +ourselves, called us "orphans"--just as though it were not a matter of +common knowledge that children who have lost their mother are known as +orphans! Probably (I thought) they liked to be the first to give us that +name, just as some people find pleasure in being the first to address a +newly-married girl as "Madame." + +In a far corner of the room, and almost hidden by the open door, of the +dining-room, stood a grey old woman with bent knees. With hands clasped +together and eyes lifted to heaven, she prayed only--not wept. Her soul +was in the presence of God, and she was asking Him soon to reunite her +to her whom she had loved beyond all beings on this earth, and whom she +steadfastly believed that she would very soon meet again. + +"There stands one who SINCERELY loved her," I thought to myself, and +felt ashamed. + +The requiem was over. They uncovered the face of the deceased, and all +present except ourselves went to the coffin to give her the kiss of +farewell. + +One of the last to take leave of her departed mistress was a peasant +woman who was holding by the hand a pretty little girl of five whom she +had brought with her, God knows for what reason. Just at a moment when +I chanced to drop my wet handkerchief and was stooping to pick it up +again, a loud, piercing scream startled me, and filled me with such +terror that, were I to live a hundred years more, I should never forget +it. Even now the recollection always sends a cold shudder through my +frame. I raised my head. Standing on the chair near the coffin was the +peasant woman, while struggling and fighting in her arms was the +little girl, and it was this same poor child who had screamed with such +dreadful, desperate frenzy as, straining her terrified face away, she +still, continued to gaze with dilated eyes at the face of the corpse. +I too screamed in a voice perhaps more dreadful still, and ran headlong +from the room. + +Only now did I understand the source of the strong, oppressive smell +which, mingling with the scent of the incense, filled the chamber, while +the thought that the face which, but a few days ago, had been full of +freshness and beauty--the face which I loved more than anything else in +all the world--was now capable of inspiring horror at length revealed to +me, as though for the first time, the terrible truth, and filled my soul +with despair. + + + + +XXVIII -- SAD RECOLLECTIONS + +Mamma was no longer with us, but our life went on as usual. We went +to bed and got up at the same times and in the same rooms; breakfast, +luncheon, and supper continued to be at their usual hours; everything +remained standing in its accustomed place; nothing in the house or in +our mode of life was altered: only, she was not there. + +Yet it seemed to me as though such a misfortune ought to have changed +everything. Our old mode of life appeared like an insult to her memory. +It recalled too vividly her presence. + +The day before the funeral I felt as though I should like to rest a +little after luncheon, and accordingly went to Natalia Savishna's room +with the intention of installing myself comfortably under the warm, soft +down of the quilt on her bed. When I entered I found Natalia herself +lying on the bed and apparently asleep, but, on hearing my footsteps, +she raised herself up, removed the handkerchief which had been +protecting her face from the flies, and, adjusting her cap, sat forward +on the edge of the bed. Since it frequently happened that I came to lie +down in her room, she guessed my errand at once, and said: + +"So you have come to rest here a little, have you? Lie down, then, my +dearest." + +"Oh, but what is the matter with you, Natalia Savishna?" I exclaimed +as I forced her back again. "I did not come for that. No, you are tired +yourself, so you LIE down." + +"I am quite rested now, darling," she said (though I knew that it was +many a night since she had closed her eyes). "Yes, I am indeed, and have +no wish to sleep again," she added with a deep sigh. + +I felt as though I wanted to speak to her of our misfortune, since I +knew her sincerity and love, and thought that it would be a consolation +to me to weep with her. + +"Natalia Savishna," I said after a pause, as I seated myself upon the +bed, "who would ever have thought of this?" + +The old woman looked at me with astonishment, for she did not quite +understand my question. + +"Yes, who would ever have thought of it?" I repeated. + +"Ah, my darling," she said with a glance of tender compassion, "it is +not only 'Who would ever have thought of it?' but 'Who, even now, would +ever believe it?' I am old, and my bones should long ago have gone to +rest rather than that I should have lived to see the old master, your +Grandpapa, of blessed memory, and Prince Nicola Michaelovitch, and his +two brothers, and your sister Amenka all buried before me, though all +younger than myself--and now my darling, to my never-ending sorrow, gone +home before me! Yet it has been God's will. He took her away because she +was worthy to be taken, and because He has need of the good ones." + +This simple thought seemed to me a consolation, and I pressed closer to +Natalia, She laid her hands upon my head as she looked upward with eyes +expressive of a deep, but resigned, sorrow. In her soul was a sure and +certain hope that God would not long separate her from the one upon whom +the whole strength of her love had for many years been concentrated. + +"Yes, my dear," she went on, "it is a long time now since I used to +nurse and fondle her, and she used to call me Natasha. She used to come +jumping upon me, and caressing and kissing me, and say, 'MY Nashik, MY +darling, MY ducky,' and I used to answer jokingly, 'Well, my love, I +don't believe that you DO love me. You will be a grown-up young +lady soon, and going away to be married, and will leave your Nashik +forgotten.' Then she would grow thoughtful and say, 'I think I had +better not marry if my Nashik cannot go with me, for I mean never to +leave her.' Yet, alas! She has left me now! Who was there in the world +she did not love? Yes, my dearest, it must never be POSSIBLE for you to +forget your Mamma. She was not a being of earth--she was an angel from +Heaven. When her soul has entered the heavenly kingdom she will continue +to love you and to be proud of you even there." + +"But why do you say 'when her soul has entered the heavenly kingdom'?" I +asked. "I believe it is there now." + +"No, my dearest," replied Natalia as she lowered her voice and pressed +herself yet closer to me, "her soul is still here," and she pointed +upwards. She spoke in a whisper, but with such an intensity of +conviction that I too involuntarily raised my eyes and looked at the +ceiling, as though expecting to see something there. "Before the souls +of the just enter Paradise they have to undergo forty trials for forty +days, and during that time they hover around their earthly home." [A +Russian popular legend.] + +She went on speaking for some time in this strain--speaking with the +same simplicity and conviction as though she were relating common things +which she herself had witnessed, and to doubt which could never enter +into any one's head. I listened almost breathlessly, and though I did +not understand all she said, I never for a moment doubted her word. + +"Yes, my darling, she is here now, and perhaps looking at us and +listening to what we are saying," concluded Natalia. Raising her head, +she remained silent for a while. At length she wiped away the tears +which were streaming from her eyes, looked me straight in the face, and +said in a voice trembling with emotion: + +"Ah, it is through many trials that God is leading me to Him. Why, +indeed, am I still here? Whom have I to live for? Whom have I to love?" + +"Do you not love US, then?" I asked sadly, and half-choking with my +tears. + +"Yes, God knows that I love you, my darling; but to love any one as I +loved HER--that I cannot do." + +She could say no more, but turned her head aside and wept bitterly. As +for me, I no longer thought of going to sleep, but sat silently with her +and mingled my tears with hers. + +Presently Foka entered the room, but, on seeing our emotion and not +wishing to disturb us, stopped short at the door. + +"Do you want anything, my good Foka?" asked Natalia as she wiped away +her tears. + +"If you please, half-a-pound of currants, four pounds of sugar, and +three pounds of rice for the kutia." [Cakes partaken of by the mourners +at a Russian funeral.] + +"Yes, in one moment," said Natalia as she took a pinch of snuff and +hastened to her drawers. All traces of the grief, aroused by our +conversation disappeared on, the instant that she had duties to fulfil, +for she looked upon those duties as of paramount importance. + +"But why FOUR pounds?" she objected as she weighed the sugar on a +steelyard. "Three and a half would be sufficient," and she withdrew a +few lumps. "How is it, too, that, though I weighed out eight pounds of +rice yesterday, more is wanted now? No offence to you, Foka, but I am +not going to waste rice like that. I suppose Vanka is glad that there +is confusion in the house just now, for he thinks that nothing will be +looked after, but I am not going to have any careless extravagance with +my master's goods. Did one ever hear of such a thing? Eight pounds!" + +"Well, I have nothing to do with it. He says it is all gone, that's +all." + +"Hm, hm! Well, there it is. Let him take it." + +I was struck by the sudden transition from the touching sensibility +with which she had just been speaking to me to this petty reckoning and +captiousness. Yet, thinking it over afterwards, I recognised that it was +merely because, in spite of what was lying on her heart, she retained +the habit of duty, and that it was the strength of that habit which +enabled her to pursue her functions as of old. Her grief was too strong +and too true to require any pretence of being unable to fulfil trivial +tasks, nor would she have understood that any one could so pretend. +Vanity is a sentiment so entirely at variance with genuine grief, yet +a sentiment so inherent in human nature, that even the most poignant +sorrow does not always drive it wholly forth. Vanity mingled with grief +shows itself in a desire to be recognised as unhappy or resigned; +and this ignoble desire--an aspiration which, for all that we may +not acknowledge it is rarely absent, even in cases of the utmost +affliction--takes off greatly from the force, the dignity, and the +sincerity of grief. Natalia Savishna had been so sorely smitten by her +misfortune that not a single wish of her own remained in her soul--she +went on living purely by habit. + +Having handed over the provisions to Foka, and reminded him of the +refreshments which must be ready for the priests, she took up her +knitting and seated herself by my side again. The conversation reverted +to the old topic, and we once more mourned and shed tears together. +These talks with Natalia I repeated every day, for her quiet tears +and words of devotion brought me relief and comfort. Soon, however, a +parting came. Three days after the funeral we returned to Moscow, and I +never saw her again. + +Grandmamma received the sad tidings only on our return to her house, and +her grief was extraordinary. At first we were not allowed to see her, +since for a whole week she was out of her mind, and the doctors were +afraid for her life. Not only did she decline all medicine whatsoever, +but she refused to speak to anybody or to take nourishment, and never +closed her eyes in sleep. Sometimes, as she sat alone in the arm-chair in +her room, she would begin laughing and crying at the same time, with a +sort of tearless grief, or else relapse into convulsions, and scream out +dreadful, incoherent words in a horrible voice. It was the first dire +sorrow which she had known in her life, and it reduced her almost +to distraction. She would begin accusing first one person, and then +another, of bringing this misfortune upon her, and rail at and blame +them with the most extraordinary virulence, Finally she would rise from +her arm-chair, pace the room for a while, and end by falling senseless +to the floor. + +Once, when I went to her room, she appeared to be sitting quietly in her +chair, yet with an air which struck me as curious. Though her eyes were +wide open, their glance was vacant and meaningless, and she seemed to +gaze in my direction without seeing me. Suddenly her lips parted slowly +in a smile, and she said in a touchingly, tender voice: "Come here, +then, my dearest one; come here, my angel." Thinking that it was myself +she was addressing, I moved towards her, but it was not I whom she was +beholding at that moment. "Oh, my love," she went on, "if only you could +know how distracted I have been, and how delighted I am to see you once +more!" I understood then that she believed herself to be looking +upon Mamma, and halted where I was. "They told me you were gone," she +concluded with a frown; "but what nonsense! As if you could die before +ME!" and she laughed a terrible, hysterical laugh. + +Only those who can love strongly can experience an overwhelming grief. +Yet their very need of loving sometimes serves to throw off their grief +from them and to save them. The moral nature of man is more tenacious of +life than the physical, and grief never kills. + +After a time Grandmamma's power of weeping came back to her, and she +began to recover. Her first thought when her reason returned was for us +children, and her love for us was greater than ever. We never left her +arm-chair, and she would talk of Mamma, and weep softly, and caress us. + +Nobody who saw her grief could say that it was consciously exaggerated, +for its expression was too strong and touching; yet for some reason or +another my sympathy went out more to Natalia Savishna, and to this day +I am convinced that nobody loved and regretted Mamma so purely and +sincerely as did that simple-hearted, affectionate being. + +With Mamma's death the happy time of my childhood came to an end, and +a new epoch--the epoch of my boyhood--began; but since my memories of +Natalia Savishna (who exercised such a strong and beneficial influence +upon the bent of my mind and the development of my sensibility) belong +rather to the first period, I will add a few words about her and her +death before closing this portion of my life. + +I heard later from people in the village that, after our return to +Moscow, she found time hang very heavy on her hands. Although the +drawers and shelves were still under her charge, and she never ceased +to arrange and rearrange them--to take things out and to dispose of them +afresh--she sadly missed the din and bustle of the seignorial mansion to +which she had been accustomed from her childhood up. Consequently +grief, the alteration in her mode of life, and her lack of activity soon +combined to develop in her a malady to which she had always been more or +less subject. + +Scarcely more than a year after Mamma's death dropsy showed itself, and +she took to her bed. I can imagine how sad it must have been for her +to go on living--still more, to die--alone in that great empty house +at Petrovskoe, with no relations or any one near her. Every one there +esteemed and loved her, but she had formed no intimate friendships in +the place, and was rather proud of the fact. That was because, enjoying +her master's confidence as she did, and having so much property +under her care, she considered that intimacies would lead to culpable +indulgence and condescension, Consequently (and perhaps, also, because +she had nothing really in common with the other servants) she kept them +all at a distance, and used to say that she "recognised neither kinsman +nor godfather in the house, and would permit of no exceptions with +regard to her master's property." + +Instead, she sought and found consolation in fervent prayers to God. Yet +sometimes, in those moments of weakness to which all of us are +subject, and when man's best solace is the tears and compassion of his +fellow-creatures, she would take her old dog Moska on to her bed, and +talk to it, and weep softly over it as it answered her caresses by +licking her hands, with its yellow eyes fixed upon her. When Moska +began to whine she would say as she quieted it: "Enough, enough! I know +without thy telling me that my time is near." A month before her death +she took out of her chest of drawers some fine white calico, white +cambric, and pink ribbon, and, with the help of the maidservants, +fashioned the garments in which she wished to be buried. Next she put +everything on her shelves in order and handed the bailiff an inventory +which she had made out with scrupulous accuracy. All that she kept +back was a couple of silk gowns, an old shawl, and Grandpapa's military +uniform--things which had been presented to her absolutely, and which, +thanks to her care and orderliness, were in an excellent state of +preservation--particularly the handsome gold embroidery on the uniform. + +Just before her death, again, she expressed a wish that one of the gowns +(a pink one) should be made into a robe de chambre for Woloda; that the +other one (a many-coloured gown) should be made into a similar garment +for myself; and that the shawl should go to Lubotshka. As for the +uniform, it was to devolve either to Woloda or to myself, according as +the one or the other of us should first become an officer. All the rest +of her property (save only forty roubles, which she set aside for her +commemorative rites and to defray the costs of her burial) was to pass +to her brother, a person with whom, since he lived a dissipated life +in a distant province, she had had no intercourse during her lifetime. +When, eventually, he arrived to claim the inheritance, and found that +its sum-total only amounted to twenty-five roubles in notes, he refused +to believe it, and declared that it was impossible that his sister-a +woman who for sixty years had had sole charge in a wealthy house, as +well as all her life had been penurious and averse to giving away even +the smallest thing should have left no more: yet it was a fact. + +Though Natalia's last illness lasted for two months, she bore her +sufferings with truly Christian fortitude. Never did she fret or +complain, but, as usual, appealed continually to God. An hour before +the end came she made her final confession, received the Sacrament with +quiet joy, and was accorded extreme unction. Then she begged forgiveness +of every one in the house for any wrong she might have done them, and +requested the priest to send us word of the number of times she had +blessed us for our love of her, as well as of how in her last moments +she had implored our forgiveness if, in her ignorance, she had ever at +any time given us offence. "Yet a thief have I never been. Never have I +used so much as a piece of thread that was not my own." Such was the one +quality which she valued in herself. + +Dressed in the cap and gown prepared so long beforehand, and with her +head resting, upon the cushion made for the purpose, she conversed with +the priest up to the very last moment, until, suddenly, recollecting +that she had left him nothing for the poor, she took out ten roubles, +and asked him to distribute them in the parish. Lastly she made the sign +of the cross, lay down, and expired--pronouncing with a smile of joy the +name of the Almighty. + +She quitted life without a pang, and, so far from fearing death, +welcomed it as a blessing. How often do we hear that said, and how +seldom is it a reality! Natalia Savishna had no reason to fear death +for the simple reason that she died in a sure and certain faith and in +strict obedience to the commands of the Gospel. Her whole life had +been one of pure, disinterested love, of utter self-negation. Had her +convictions been of a more enlightened order, her life directed to a +higher aim, would that pure soul have been the more worthy of love and +reverence? She accomplished the highest and best achievement in this +world: she died without fear and without repining. + +They buried her where she had wished to lie--near the little mausoleum +which still covers Mamma's tomb. The little mound beneath which she +sleeps is overgrown with nettles and burdock, and surrounded by a black +railing, but I never forget, when leaving the mausoleum, to approach +that railing, and to salute the plot of earth within by bowing +reverently to the ground. + +Sometimes, too, I stand thoughtfully between the railing and the +mausoleum, and sad memories pass through my mind. Once the idea came to +me as I stood there: "Did Providence unite me to those two beings solely +in order to make me regret them my life long?" + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Childhood, by Leo Tolstoy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILDHOOD *** + +***** This file should be named 2142.txt or 2142.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/4/2142/ + +Produced by Martin Adamson and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. +Project Gutenberg's The Forged Coupon and Other Stories, by Leo Tolstoy + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Forged Coupon and Other Stories + +Author: Leo Tolstoy + +Release Date: March 14, 2006 [EBook #243] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FORGED COUPON AND OTHER *** + + + + +Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger + + + + + +THE FORGED COUPON + +And Other Stories + +By Leo Tolstoy + + + + +CONTENTS + + INTRODUCTION + THE FORGED COUPON + AFTER THE DANCE + ALYOSHA THE POT + MY DREAM + THERE ARE NO GUILTY PEOPLE + THE YOUNG TSAR + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +IN an age of materialism like our own the phenomenon of spiritual power +is as significant and inspiring as it is rare. No longer associated with +the "divine right" of kings, it has survived the downfall of feudal and +theocratic systems as a mystic personal emanation in place of a coercive +weapon of statecraft. + +Freed from its ancient shackles of dogma and despotism it eludes +analysis. We know not how to gauge its effect on others, nor even upon +ourselves. Like the wind, it permeates the atmosphere we breathe, and +baffles while it stimulates the mind with its intangible but compelling +force. + +This psychic power, which the dead weight of materialism is impotent +to suppress, is revealed in the lives and writings of men of the most +diverse creeds and nationalities. Apart from those who, like Buddha +and Mahomet, have been raised to the height of demi-gods by worshipping +millions, there are names which leap inevitably to the mind--such names +as Savonarola, Luther, Calvin, Rousseau--which stand for types and +exemplars of spiritual aspiration. To this high priesthood of the quick +among the dead, who can doubt that time will admit Leo Tolstoy--a genius +whose greatness has been obscured from us rather than enhanced by his +duality; a realist who strove to demolish the mysticism of Christianity, +and became himself a mystic in the contemplation of Nature; a man of +ardent temperament and robust physique, keenly susceptible to human +passions and desires, who battled with himself from early manhood until +the spirit, gathering strength with years, inexorably subdued the flesh. + +Tolstoy the realist steps without cavil into the front rank of modern +writers; Tolstoy the idealist has been constantly derided and scorned by +men of like birth and education with himself--his altruism denounced as +impracticable, his preaching compared with his mode of life to prove +him inconsistent, if not insincere. This is the prevailing attitude of +politicians and literary men. + +Must one conclude that the mass of mankind has lost touch with idealism? +On the contrary, in spite of modern materialism, or even because of it, +many leaders of spiritual thought have arisen in our times, and have won +the ear of vast audiences. Their message is a call to a simpler life, to +a recognition of the responsibilities of wealth, to the avoidance of war +by arbitration, and sinking of class hatred in a deep sense of universal +brotherhood. + +Unhappily, when an idealistic creed is formulated in precise and +dogmatic language, it invariably loses something of its pristine beauty +in the process of transmutation. Hence the Positivist philosophy +of Comte, though embodying noble aspirations, has had but a limited +influence. Again, the poetry of Robert Browning, though less frankly +altruistic than that of Cowper or Wordsworth, is inherently ethical, and +reveals strong sympathy with sinning and suffering humanity, but it is +masked by a manner that is sometimes uncouth and frequently obscure. +Owing to these, and other instances, idealism suggests to the world +at large a vague sentimentality peculiar to the poets, a bloodless +abstraction toyed with by philosophers, which must remain a closed book +to struggling humanity. + +Yet Tolstoy found true idealism in the toiling peasant who believed in +God, rather than in his intellectual superior who believed in himself +in the first place, and gave a conventional assent to the existence of a +deity in the second. For the peasant was still religious at heart with +a naive unquestioning faith--more characteristic of the fourteenth or +fifteenth century than of to-day--and still fervently aspired to God +although sunk in superstition and held down by the despotism of the +Greek Church. It was the cumbrous ritual and dogma of the orthodox state +religion which roused Tolstoy to impassioned protests, and led him step +by step to separate the core of Christianity from its sacerdotal shell, +thus bringing upon himself the ban of excommunication. + +The signal mark of the reprobation of "Holy Synod" was slow in +coming--it did not, in fact, become absolute until a couple of years +after the publication of "Resurrection," in 1901, in spite of the +attitude of fierce hostility to Church and State which Tolstoy had +maintained for so long. This hostility, of which the seeds were +primarily sown by the closing of his school and inquisition of his +private papers in the summer of 1862, soon grew to proportions +far greater than those arising from a personal wrong. The dumb and +submissive moujik found in Tolstoy a living voice to express his +sufferings. + +Tolstoy was well fitted by nature and circumstances to be the peasant's +spokesman. He had been brought into intimate contact with him in the +varying conditions of peace and war, and he knew him at his worst and +best. The old home of the family, Yasnaya Polyana, where Tolstoy, his +brothers and sister, spent their early years in charge of two guardian +aunts, was not only a halting-place for pilgrims journeying to and from +the great monastic shrines, but gave shelter to a number of persons of +enfeebled minds belonging to the peasant class, with whom the devout and +kindly Aunt Alexandra spent many hours daily in religious conversation +and prayer. + +In "Childhood" Tolstoy apostrophises with feeling one of those +"innocents," a man named Grisha, "whose faith was so strong that you +felt the nearness of God, your love so ardent that the words flowed from +your lips uncontrolled by your reason. And how did you celebrate his +Majesty when, words failing you, you prostrated yourself on the ground, +bathed in tears" This picture of humble religious faith was amongst +Tolstoy's earliest memories, and it returned to comfort him and uplift +his soul when it was tossed and engulfed by seas of doubt. But the +affection he felt in boyhood towards the moujiks became tinged with +contempt when his attempts to improve their condition--some of which are +described in "Anna Karenina" and in the "Landlord's Morning"--ended in +failure, owing to the ignorance and obstinacy of the people. It was not +till he passed through the ordeal of war in Turkey and the Crimea +that he discovered in the common soldier who fought by his side an +unconscious heroism, an unquestioning faith in God, a kindliness and +simplicity of heart rarely possessed by his commanding officer. + +The impressions made upon Tolstoy during this period of active service +gave vivid reality to the battle-scenes in "War and Peace," and are +traceable in the reflections and conversation of the two heroes, Prince +Andre and Pierre Besukhov. On the eve of the battle of Borodino, +Prince Andre, talking with Pierre in the presence of his devoted +soldier-servant Timokhine, says,--"'Success cannot possibly be, nor has +it ever been, the result of strategy or fire-arms or numbers.' + +"'Then what does it result from?' said Pierre. + +"'From the feeling that is in me, that is in him'--pointing to +Timokhine--'and that is in each individual soldier.'" + +He then contrasts the different spirit animating the officers and the +men. + +"'The former,' he says, 'have nothing in view but their personal +interests. The critical moment for them is the moment at which they are +able to supplant a rival, to win a cross or a new order. I see only one +thing. To-morrow one hundred thousand Russians and one hundred thousand +Frenchmen will meet to fight; they who fight the hardest and spare +themselves the least will win the day.' + +"'There's the truth, your Excellency, the real truth,' murmurs +Timokhine; 'it is not a time to spare oneself. Would you believe it, the +men of my battalion have not tasted brandy? "It's not a day for that," +they said.'" + +During the momentous battle which followed, Pierre was struck by the +steadfastness under fire which has always distinguished the Russian +soldier. + +"The fall of each man acted as an increasing stimulus. The faces of the +soldiers brightened more and more, as if challenging the storm let loose +on them." + +In contrast with this picture of fine "morale" is that of the young +white-faced officer, looking nervously about him as he walks backwards +with lowered sword. + +In other places Tolstoy does full justice to the courage and patriotism +of all grades in the Russian army, but it is constantly evident that +his sympathies are most heartily with the rank and file. What genuine +feeling and affection rings in this sketch of Plato, a common soldier, +in "War and Peace!" + +"Plato Karataev was about fifty, judging by the number of campaigns in +which he had served; he could not have told his exact age himself, and +when he laughed, as he often did, he showed two rows of strong, white +teeth. There was not a grey hair on his head or in his beard, and his +bearing wore the stamp of activity, resolution, and above all, stoicism. +His face, though much lined, had a touching expression of simplicity, +youth, and innocence. When he spoke, in his soft sing-song voice, his +speech flowed as from a well-spring. He never thought about what he +had said or was going to say next, and the vivacity and the rhythmical +inflections of his voice gave it a penetrating persuasiveness. Night and +morning, when going to rest or getting up, he said, 'O God, let me +sleep like a stone and rise up like a loaf.' And, sure enough, he had no +sooner lain down than he slept like a lump of lead, and in the morning +on waking he was bright and lively, and ready for any work. He could +do anything, just not very well nor very ill; he cooked, sewed, planed +wood, cobbled his boots, and was always occupied with some job or other, +only allowing himself to chat and sing at night. He sang, not like a +singer who knows he has listeners, but as the birds sing to God, the +Father of all, feeling it as necessary as walking or stretching himself. +His singing was tender, sweet, plaintive, almost feminine, in keeping +with his serious countenance. When, after some weeks of captivity his +beard had grown again, he seemed to have got rid of all that was not his +true self, the borrowed face which his soldiering life had given him, +and to have become, as before, a peasant and a man of the people. In the +eyes of the other prisoners Plato was just a common soldier, whom they +chaffed at times and sent on all manner of errands; but to Pierre he +remained ever after the personification of simplicity and truth, such as +he had divined him to be since the first night spent by his side." + +This clearly is a study from life, a leaf from Tolstoy's "Crimean +Journal." It harmonises with the point of view revealed in the "Letters +from Sebastopol" (especially in the second and third series), and shows, +like them, the change effected by the realities of war in the intolerant +young aristocrat, who previously excluded all but the comme-il-faut from +his consideration. With widened outlook and new ideals he returned to +St. Petersburg at the close of the Crimean campaign, to be welcomed by +the elite of letters and courted by society. A few years before he would +have been delighted with such a reception. Now it jarred on his awakened +sense of the tragedy of existence. He found himself entirely out of +sympathy with the group of literary men who gathered round him, with +Turgenev at their head. In Tolstoy's eyes they were false, paltry, and +immoral, and he was at no pains to disguise his opinions. Dissension, +leading to violent scenes, soon broke out between Turgenev and Tolstoy; +and the latter, completely disillusioned both in regard to his great +contemporary and to the literary world of St. Petersburg, shook off the +dust of the capital, and, after resigning his commission in the army, +went abroad on a tour through Germany, Switzerland, and France. + +In France his growing aversion from capital punishment became +intensified by his witnessing a public execution, and the painful +thoughts aroused by the scene of the guillotine haunted his sensitive +spirit for long. He left France for Switzerland, and there, among +beautiful natural surroundings, and in the society of friends, he +enjoyed a respite from mental strain. + +"A fresh, sweet-scented flower seemed to have blossomed in my spirit; to +the weariness and indifference to all things which before possessed +me had succeeded, without apparent transition, a thirst for love, a +confident hope, an inexplicable joy to feel myself alive." + +Those halcyon days ushered in the dawn of an intimate friendship between +himself and a lady who in the correspondence which ensued usually +styled herself his aunt, but was in fact a second cousin. This lady, the +Countess Alexandra A. Tolstoy, a Maid of Honour of the Bedchamber, moved +exclusively in Court circles. She was intelligent and sympathetic, but +strictly orthodox and mondaine, so that, while Tolstoy's view of +life gradually shifted from that of an aristocrat to that of a social +reformer, her own remained unaltered; with the result that at the end +of some forty years of frank and affectionate interchange of ideas, +they awoke to the painful consciousness that the last link of mutual +understanding had snapped and that their friendship was at an end. + +But the letters remain as a valuable and interesting record of one +of Tolstoy's rare friendships with women, revealing in his unguarded +confidences fine shades of his many-sided nature, and throwing light on +the impression he made both on his intimates and on those to whom he was +only known as a writer, while his moral philosophy was yet in embryo. +They are now about to appear in book form under the auspices of M. +Stakhovich, to whose kindness in giving me free access to the originals +I am indebted for the extracts which follow. From one of the countess's +first letters we learn that the feelings of affection, hope, and +happiness which possessed Tolstoy in Switzerland irresistibly +communicated themselves to those about him. + +"You are good in a very uncommon way," she writes, "and that is why +it is difficult to feel unhappy in your company. I have never seen you +without wishing to be a better creature. Your presence is a consoling +idea . . . know all the elements in you that revive one's heart, +possibly without your being even aware of it." + +A few years later she gives him an amusing account of the impression his +writings had already made on an eminent statesman. + +"I owe you a small episode. Not long ago, when lunching with the +Emperor, I sat next our little Bismarck, and in a spirit of mischief I +began sounding him about you. But I had hardly uttered your name when he +went off at a gallop with the greatest enthusiasm, firing off the list +of your perfections left and right, and so long as he declaimed your +praises with gesticulations, cut and thrust, powder and shot, it was +all very well and quite in character; but seeing that I listened with +interest and attention my man took the bit in his teeth, and flung +himself into a psychic apotheosis. On reaching full pitch he began to +get muddled, and floundered so helplessly in his own phrases! all the +while chewing an excellent cutlet to the bone, that at last I realised +nothing but the tips of his ears--those two great ears of his. What a +pity I can't repeat it verbatim! but how? There was nothing left but a +jumble of confused sounds and broken words." + +Tolstoy on his side is equally expansive, and in the early stages of the +correspondence falls occasionally into the vein of self-analysis which +in later days became habitual. + +"As a child I believed with passion and without any thought. Then at the +age of fourteen I began to think about life and preoccupied myself with +religion, but it did not adjust itself to my theories and so I broke +with it. Without it I was able to live quite contentedly for ten years +. . . everything in my life was evenly distributed, and there was no +room for religion. Then came a time when everything grew intelligible; +there were no more secrets in life, but life itself had lost its +significance." + +He goes on to tell of the two years that he spent in the Caucasus before +the Crimean War, when his mind, jaded by youthful excesses, gradually +regained its freshness, and he awoke to a sense of communion with Nature +which he retained to his life's end. + +"I have my notes of that time, and now reading them over I am not able +to understand how a man could attain to the state of mental exaltation +which I arrived at. It was a torturing but a happy time." + +Further on he writes,--"In those two years of intellectual work, I +discovered a truth which is ancient and simple, but which yet I know +better than others do. I found out that immortal life is a reality, that +love is a reality, and that one must live for others if one would be +unceasingly happy." + +At this point one realises the gulf which divides the Slavonic from +the English temperament. No average Englishman of seven-and-twenty (as +Tolstoy was then) would pursue reflections of this kind, or if he did, +he would in all probability keep them sedulously to himself. + +To Tolstoy and his aunt, on the contrary, it seemed the most natural +thing in the world to indulge in egoistic abstractions and to expatiate +on them; for a Russian feels none of the Anglo-Saxon's mauvaise honte +in describing his spiritual condition, and is no more daunted by +metaphysics than the latter is by arguments on politics and sport. + +To attune the Anglo-Saxon reader's mind to sympathy with a mentality +so alien to his own, requires that Tolstoy's environment should be +described more fully than most of his biographers have cared to do. This +prefatory note aims, therefore, at being less strictly biographical +than illustrative of the contributory elements and circumstances which +sub-consciously influenced Tolstoy's spiritual evolution, since it is +apparent that in order to judge a man's actions justly one must be able +to appreciate the motives from which they spring; those motives in turn +requiring the key which lies in his temperament, his associations, his +nationality. Such a key is peculiarly necessary to English or American +students of Tolstoy, because of the marked contrast existing between the +Russian and the Englishman or American in these respects, a contrast +by which Tolstoy himself was forcibly struck during the visit to +Switzerland, of which mention has been already made. It is difficult +to restrain a smile at the poignant mental discomfort endured by +the sensitive Slav in the company of the frigid and silent English +frequenters of the Schweitzerhof ("Journal of Prince D. Nekhludov," +Lucerne, 1857), whose reserve, he realised, was "not based on pride, +but on the absence of any desire to draw nearer to each other"; while he +looked back regretfully to the pension in Paris where the table d' hote +was a scene of spontaneous gaiety. The problem of British taciturnity +passed his comprehension; but for us the enigma of Tolstoy's temperament +is half solved if we see him not harshly silhouetted against a +blank wall, but suffused with his native atmosphere, amid his native +surroundings. Not till we understand the main outlines of the Russian +temperament can we realise the individuality of Tolstoy himself: the +personality that made him lovable, the universality that made him great. + +So vast an agglomeration of races as that which constitutes the Russian +empire cannot obviously be represented by a single type, but it will +suffice for our purposes to note the characteristics of the inhabitants +of Great Russia among whom Tolstoy spent the greater part of his +lifetime and to whom he belonged by birth and natural affinities. + +It may be said of the average Russian that in exchange for a precocious +childhood he retains much of a child's lightness of heart throughout +his later years, alternating with attacks of morbid despondency. He +is usually very susceptible to feminine charm, an ardent but unstable +lover, whose passions are apt to be as shortlived as they are violent. +Story-telling and long-winded discussions give him keen enjoyment, +for he is garrulous, metaphysical, and argumentative. In money +matters careless and extravagant, dilatory and venal in affairs; fond, +especially in the peasant class, of singing, dancing, and carousing; but +his irresponsible gaiety and heedlessness of consequences balanced by +a fatalistic courage and endurance in the face of suffering and danger. +Capable, besides, of high flights of idealism, which result in epics, +but rarely in actions, owing to the Slavonic inaptitude for sustained +and organised effort. The Englishman by contrast appears cold and +calculating, incapable of rising above questions of practical utility; +neither interested in other men's antecedents and experiences nor +willing to retail his own. The catechism which Plato puts Pierre +through on their first encounter ("War and Peace") as to his family, +possessions, and what not, are precisely similar to those to which +I have been subjected over and over again by chance acquaintances in +country-houses or by fellow travellers on journeys by boat or train. The +naivete and kindliness of the questioner makes it impossible to resent, +though one may feebly try to parry his probing. On the other hand he +offers you free access to the inmost recesses of his own soul, and +stupefies you with the candour of his revelations. This, of course, +relates more to the landed and professional classes than to the peasant, +who is slower to express himself, and combines in a curious way a firm +belief in the omnipotence and wisdom of his social superiors with a +rooted distrust of their intentions regarding himself. He is like a +beast of burden who flinches from every approach, expecting always a +kick or a blow. On the other hand, his affection for the animals +who share his daily work is one of the most attractive points +in his character, and one which Tolstoy never wearied of +emphasising--describing, with the simple pathos of which he was master, +the moujik inured to his own privations but pitiful to his horse, +shielding him from the storm with his own coat, or saving him from +starvation with his own meagre ration; and mindful of him even in his +prayers, invoking, like Plato, the blessings of Florus and Laura, patron +saints of horses, because "one mustn't forget the animals." + +The characteristics of a people so embedded in the soil bear a closer +relation to their native landscape than our own migratory populations, +and patriotism with them has a deep and vital meaning, which is +expressed unconsciously in their lives. + +This spirit of patriotism which Tolstoy repudiated is none the less +the animating power of the noble epic, "War and Peace," and of his +peasant-tales, of his rare gift of reproducing the expressive Slav +vernacular, and of his magical art of infusing his pictures of Russian +scenery not merely with beauty, but with spiritual significance. I can +think of no prose writer, unless it be Thoreau, so wholly under the +spell of Nature as Tolstoy; and while Thoreau was preoccupied with +the normal phenomena of plant and animal life, Tolstoy, coming near to +Pantheism, found responses to his moods in trees, and gained spiritual +expansion from the illimitable skies and plains. He frequently brings +his heroes into touch with Nature, and endows them with all the innate +mysticism of his own temperament, for to him Nature was "a guide to +God." So in the two-fold incident of Prince Andre and the oak tree ("War +and Peace") the Prince, though a man of action rather than of sentiment +and habitually cynical, is ready to find in the aged oak by the +roadside, in early spring, an animate embodiment of his own despondency. + +"'Springtime, love, happiness?--are you still cherishing those deceptive +illusions?' the old oak seemed to say. 'Isn't it the same fiction ever? +There is neither spring, nor love, nor happiness! Look at those poor +weather-beaten firs, always the same . . . look at the knotty arms +issuing from all up my poor mutilated trunk--here I am, such as they +have made me, and I do not believe either in your hopes or in your +illusions.'" + +And after thus exercising his imagination, Prince Andre still casts +backward glances as he passes by, "but the oak maintained its obstinate +and sullen immovability in the midst of the flowers and grass growing at +its feet. 'Yes, that oak is right, right a thousand times over. One must +leave illusions to youth. But the rest of us know what life is worth; it +has nothing left to offer us.'" + +Six weeks later he returns homeward the same way, roused from his +melancholy torpor by his recent meeting with Natasha. + +"The day was hot, there was storm in the air; a slight shower watered +the dust on the road and the grass in the ditch; the left side of the +wood remained in the shade; the right side, lightly stirred by the wind, +glittered all wet in the sun; everything was in flower, and from near +and far the nightingales poured forth their song. 'I fancy there was an +oak here that understood me,' said Prince Andre to himself, looking +to the left and attracted unawares by the beauty of the very tree he +sought. The transformed old oak spread out in a dome of deep, luxuriant, +blooming verdure, which swayed in a light breeze in the rays of the +setting sun. There were no longer cloven branches nor rents to be seen; +its former aspect of bitter defiance and sullen grief had disappeared; +there were only the young leaves, full of sap that had pierced through +the centenarian bark, making the beholder question with surprise if this +patriarch had really given birth to them. 'Yes, it is he, indeed!' cried +Prince Andre, and he felt his heart suffused by the intense joy which +the springtime and this new life gave him . . . 'No, my life cannot end +at thirty-one! . . . It is not enough myself to feel what is within me, +others must know it too! Pierre and that "slip" of a girl, who would +have fled into cloudland, must learn to know me! My life must colour +theirs, and their lives must mingle with mine!'" + +In letters to his wife, to intimate friends, and in his diary, Tolstoy's +love of Nature is often-times expressed. The hair shirt of the ascetic +and the prophet's mantle fall from his shoulders, and all the poet in +him wakes when, "with a feeling akin to ecstasy," he looks up from his +smooth-running sledge at "the enchanting, starry winter sky overhead," +or in early spring feels on a ramble "intoxicated by the beauty of the +morning," while he notes that the buds are swelling on the lilacs, and +"the birds no longer sing at random," but have begun to converse. + +But though such allusions abound in his diary and private +correspondence, we must turn to "The Cossacks," and "Conjugal Happiness" +for the exquisitely elaborated rural studies, which give those early +romances their fresh idyllic charm. + +What is interesting to note is that this artistic freshness and joy in +Nature coexisted with acute intermittent attacks of spiritual lassitude. +In "The Cossacks," the doubts, the mental gropings of Olenine--whose +personality but thinly veils that of Tolstoy--haunt him betimes even +among the delights of the Caucasian woodland; Serge, the fatalistic +hero of "Conjugal Happiness," calmly acquiesces in the inevitableness +of "love's sad satiety" amid the scent of roses and the songs of +nightingales. + +Doubt and despondency, increased by the vexations and failures attending +his philanthropic endeavours, at length obsessed Tolstoy to the verge of +suicide. + +"The disputes over arbitration had become so painful to me, the +schoolwork so vague, my doubts arising from the wish to teach others, +while dissembling my own ignorance of what should be taught, were so +heartrending that I fell ill. I might then have reached the despair to +which I all but succumbed fifteen years later, if there had not been a +side of life as yet unknown to me which promised me salvation: this was +family life" ("My Confession"). + +In a word, his marriage with Mademoiselle Sophie Andreevna Bers +(daughter of Dr. Bers of Moscow) was consummated in the autumn of +1862--after a somewhat protracted courtship, owing to her extreme +youth--and Tolstoy entered upon a period of happiness and mental peace +such as he had never known. His letters of this period to Countess A. A. +Tolstoy, his friend Fet, and others, ring with enraptured allusions to +his new-found joy. Lassitude and indecision, mysticism and altruism, all +were swept aside by the impetus of triumphant love and of all-sufficing +conjugal happiness. When in June of the following year a child was born, +and the young wife, her features suffused with "a supernatural beauty" +lay trying to smile at the husband who knelt sobbing beside her, Tolstoy +must have realised that for once his prophetic intuition had been +unequal to its task. If his imagination could have conceived in +prenuptial days what depths of emotion might be wakened by fatherhood, +he would not have treated the birth of Masha's first child in "Conjugal +Happiness" as a trivial material event, in no way affecting the mutual +relations of the disillusioned pair. He would have understood that at +this supreme crisis, rather than in the vernal hour of love's avowal, +the heart is illumined with a joy which is fated "never to return." + +The parting of the ways, so soon reached by Serge and Masha, was in fact +delayed in Tolstoy's own life by his wife's intelligent assistance in +his literary work as an untiring amanuensis, and in the mutual anxieties +and pleasures attending the care of a large family of young children. +Wider horizons opened to his mental vision, his whole being was +quickened and invigorated. "War and Peace," "Anna Karenina," all the +splendid fruit of the teeming years following upon his marriage, bear +witness to the stimulus which his genius had received. His dawning +recognition of the power and extent of female influence appears +incidentally in the sketches of high society in those two masterpieces +as well as in the eloquent closing passages of "What then must we do?" +(1886). Having affirmed that "it is women who form public opinion, and +in our day women are particularly powerful," he finally draws a picture +of the ideal wife who shall urge her husband and train her children +to self-sacrifice. "Such women rule men and are their guiding stars. O +women--mothers! The salvation of the world lies in your hands!" In that +appeal to the mothers of the world there lurks a protest which in +later writings developed into overwhelming condemnation. True, he chose +motherhood for the type of self-sacrificing love in the treatise "On +Life," which appeared soon after "What then must we do?" but maternal +love, as exemplified in his own home and elsewhere, appeared to him as a +noble instinct perversely directed. + +The roots of maternal love are sunk deep in conservatism. The child's +physical well-being is the first essential in the mother's eyes--the +growth of a vigorous body by which a vigorous mind may be fitly +tenanted--and this form of materialism which Tolstoy as a father +accepted, Tolstoy as idealist condemned; while the penury he courted as +a lightening of his soul's burden was averted by the strenuous exertions +of his wife. So a rift grew without blame attaching to either, and +Tolstoy henceforward wandered solitary in spirit through a wilderness +of thought, seeking rest and finding none, coming perilously near to +suicide before he reached haven. + +To many it will seem that the finest outcome of that period of mental +groping, internal struggle, and contending with current ideas, lies in +the above-mentioned "What then must we do?" Certain it is that no human +document ever revealed the soul of its author with greater sincerity. +Not for its practical suggestions, but for its impassioned humanity, its +infectious altruism, "What then must we do?" takes its rank among the +world's few living books. It marks that stage of Tolstoy's evolution +when he made successive essays in practical philanthropy which filled +him with discouragement, yet were "of use to his soul" in teaching him +how far below the surface lie the seeds of human misery. The slums of +Moscow, crowded with beings sunk beyond redemption; the famine-stricken +plains of Samara where disease and starvation reigned, notwithstanding +the stream of charity set flowing by Tolstoy's appeals and +notwithstanding his untiring personal devotion, strengthened further the +conviction, so constantly affirmed in his writings, of the impotence of +money to alleviate distress. Whatever negations of this dictum our own +systems of charitable organizations may appear to offer, there can be no +question but that in Russia it held and holds true. + +The social condition of Russia is like a tideless sea, whose sullen +quiescence is broken from time to time by terrific storms which spend +themselves in unavailing fury. Reaction follows upon every forward +motion, and the advance made by each succeeding generation is barely +perceptible. + +But in the period of peace following upon the close of the Crimean +War the soul of the Russian people was deeply stirred by the spirit of +Progress, and hope rose high on the accession of Alexander II. + +The emancipation of the serfs was only one among a number of projected +reforms which engaged men's minds. The national conscience awoke and +echoed the cry of the exiled patriot Herzen, "Now or never!" Educational +enterprise was aroused, and some forty schools for peasant children +were started on the model of that opened by Tolstoy at Yasnaya Polyana +(1861). The literary world throbbed with new life, and a brilliant +company of young writers came to the surface, counting among them names +of European celebrity, such as Dostoevsky, Nekrassov, and Saltykov. +Unhappily the reign of Progress was short. The bureaucratic circle +hemming in the Czar took alarm, and made haste to secure their +ascendancy by fresh measures of oppression. Many schools were closed, +including that of Tolstoy, and the nascent liberty of the Press was +stifled by the most rigid censorship. + +In this lamentable manner the history of Russia's internal misrule +and disorder has continued to repeat itself for the last sixty +years, revolving in the same vicious circle of fierce repression and +persecution and utter disregard of the rights of individuals, followed +by fierce reprisals on the part of the persecuted; the voice of protest +no sooner raised than silenced in a prison cell or among Siberian +snow-fields, yet rising again and again with inextinguishable +reiteration; appeals for political freedom, for constitutional +government, for better systems and wider dissemination of education, for +liberty of the Press, and for an enlightened treatment of the masses, +callously received and rejected. The answer with which these appeals +have been met by the rulers of Russia is only too well known to the +civilised world, but the obduracy of Pharoah has called forth the +plagues of Egypt. Despite the unrivalled agrarian fertility of Russia, +famines recur with dire frequency, with disease and riot in their train, +while the ignominious termination of the Russo-Japanese war showed that +even the magnificent morale of the Russian soldier had been undermined +and was tainted by the rottenness of the authorities set over him. What +in such circumstances as these can a handful of philanthropists achieve, +and what avails alms-giving or the scattering of largesse to a people on +the point of spiritual dissolution? + +In these conditions Tolstoy's abhorrence of money, and his assertion +of its futility as a panacea for human suffering, appears not merely +comprehensible but inevitable, and his renunciation of personal property +the strictly logical outcome of his conclusions. The partition of his +estates between his wife and children, shortly before the outbreak of +the great famine in 1892, served to relieve his mind partially; and +the writings of Henry George, with which he became acquainted at this +critical time, were an additional incentive to concentrate his thoughts +on the land question. He began by reading the American propagandist's +"Social Problems," which arrested his attention by its main principles +and by the clearness and novelty of his arguments. Deeply impressed by +the study of this book, no sooner had he finished it than he possessed +himself of its forerunner, "Progress and Poverty," in which the essence +of George's revolutionary doctrines is worked out. + +The plan of land nationalisation there explained provided Tolstoy with +well thought-out and logical reasons for a policy that was already more +than sympathetic to him. Here at last was a means of ensuring economic +equality for all, from the largest landowner to the humblest peasant--a +practical suggestion how to reduce the inequalities between rich and +poor. + +Henry George's ideas and methods are easy of comprehension. The land was +made by God for every human creature that was born into the world, and +therefore to confine the ownership of land to the few is wrong. If a man +wants a piece of land, he ought to pay the rest of the community for the +enjoyment of it. This payment or rent should be the only tax paid into +the Treasury of the State. Taxation on men's own property (the produce +of their own labour) should be done away with, and a rent graduated +according to the site-value of the land should be substituted. +Monopolies would cease without violently and unjustly disturbing society +with confiscation and redistribution. No one would keep land idle if he +were taxed according to its value to the community, and not according +to the use to which he individually wished to put it. A man would then +readily obtain possession of land, and could turn it to account and +develop it without being taxed on his own industry. All human beings +would thus become free in their lives and in their labour. They would no +longer be forced to toil at demoralising work for low wages; they +would be independent producers instead of earning a living by providing +luxuries for the rich, who had enslaved them by monopolising the land. +The single tax thus created would ultimately overthrow the present +"civilisation" which is chiefly built up on wage-slavery. + +Tolstoy gave his whole-hearted adhesion to this doctrine, predicting a +day of enlightenment when men would no longer tolerate a form of slavery +which he considered as revolting as that which had so recently been +abolished. Some long conversations with Henry George, while he was on +a visit to Yasnaya Polyana, gave additional strength to Tolstoy's +conviction that in these theories lay the elements essential to the +transformation and rejuvenation of human nature, going far towards +the levelling of social inequalities. But to inoculate the landed +proprietors of Russia as a class with those theories was a task which +even his genius could not hope to accomplish. + +He recognised the necessity of proceeding from the particular to the +general, and that the perfecting of human institutions was impossible +without a corresponding perfection in the individual. To this end +therefore the remainder of his life was dedicated. He had always held in +aversion what he termed external epidemic influences: he now endeavoured +to free himself not only from all current conventions, but from every +association which he had formerly cherished. Self-analysis and general +observation had taught him that men are sensual beings, and that +sensualism must die for want of food if it were not for sex instincts, +if it were not for Art, and especially for Music. This view of life he +forcibly expressed in the "Kreutzer Sonata," in which Woman and Music, +the two magnets of his youth, were impeached as powers of evil. Already, +in "War and Peace" and in "Anna Karenina," his descriptions of female +charms resembled catalogues of weapons against which a man must arm +himself or perish. The beautiful Princess Helena, with her gleaming +shoulders, her faultless white bosom, and her eternal smile is evidently +an object of aversion to her creator; even as the Countess Betsy, with +her petty coquetries and devices for attracting attention at the Opera +and elsewhere, is a target for his contempt. "Woman is a stumbling-block +in a man's career," remarks a philosophical husband in "Anna Karenina." +"It is difficult to love a woman and do any good work, and the only way +to escape being reduced to inaction is to marry." + +Even in his correspondence with the Countess A. A. Tolstoy this +slighting tone prevails. "A woman has but one moral weapon instead +of the whole male arsenal. That is love, and only with this weapon is +feminine education successfully carried forward." Tolstoy, in fact, +betrayed a touch of orientalism in his attitude towards women. In part +no doubt as a result of his motherless youth, in part to the fact +that his idealism was never stimulated by any one woman as it was by +individual men, his views retained this colouring on sex questions while +they became widened and modified in almost every other field of human +philosophy. It was only that, with a revulsion of feeling not seldom +experienced by earnest thinkers, attraction was succeeded by a repulsion +which reached the high note of exasperation when he wrote to a man +friend, "A woman in good health--why, she is a regular beast of prey!" + +None the less, he showed great kindness and sympathy to the women who +sought his society, appealing to him for guidance. One of these (an +American, and herself a practical philanthropist), Miss Jane Addams, +expressed with feeling her sense of his personal influence. "The glimpse +of Tolstoy has made a profound impression on me, not so much by what he +said, as the life, the gentleness, the soul of him. I am sure you will +understand my saying that I got more of Tolstoy's philosophy from our +conversations than I had gotten from our books." (Quoted by Aylmer Maude +in his "Life of Tolstoy.") + +As frequently happens in the lives of reformers, Tolstoy found himself +more often in affinity with strangers than with his own kin. The +estrangement of his ideals from those of his wife necessarily affected +their conjugal relations, and the decline of mutual sympathy inevitably +induced physical alienation. The stress of mental anguish arising from +these conditions found vent in pages of his diaries (much of which I +have been permitted to read), pages containing matter too sacred and +intimate to use. The diaries shed a flood of light on Tolstoy's ideas, +motives, and manner of life, and have modified some of my opinions, +explaining many hitherto obscure points, while they have also enhanced +my admiration for the man. They not only touch on many delicate +subjects--on his relations to his wife and family--but they also give +the true reasons for leaving his home at last, and explain why he did +not do so before. The time, it seems to me, is not ripe for disclosures +of this nature, which so closely concern the living. + +Despite a strong rein of restraint his mental distress permeates the +touching letter of farewell which he wrote some sixteen years before his +death. He, however, shrank from acting upon it, being unable to satisfy +himself that it was a right step. This letter has already appeared in +foreign publications,* but it is quoted here because "I have suffered +long, dear Sophie, from the discord between my life and my beliefs. + + * And in Birukov's short Life of Tolstoy, 1911. of the + light which it throws on the character and disposition of + the writer, the workings of his mind being of greater moment + to us than those impulsive actions by which he was too often + judged. + +"I cannot constrain you to alter your life or your accustomed ways. +Neither have I had the strength to leave you ere this, for I thought +my absence might deprive the little ones, still so young, of whatever +influence I may have over them, and above all that I should grieve +you. But I can no longer live as I have lived these last sixteen years, +sometimes battling with you and irritating you, sometimes myself giving +way to the influences and seductions to which I am accustomed and which +surround me. I have now resolved to do what I have long desired: to go +away . . . Even as the Hindoos, at the age of sixty, betake themselves +to the jungle; even as every aged and religious-minded man desires to +consecrate the last years of his life to God and not to idle talk, to +making jokes, to gossiping, to lawn-tennis; so I, having reached the +age of seventy, long with all my soul for calm and solitude, and if not +perfect harmony, at least a cessation from this horrible discord between +my whole life and my conscience. + +"If I had gone away openly there would have been entreaties, +discussions: I should have wavered, and perhaps failed to act on my +decision, whereas it must be so. I pray of you to forgive me if my +action grieves you. And do you, Sophie, in particular let me go, neither +seeking me out, nor bearing me ill-will, nor blaming me . . . the +fact that I have left you does not mean that I have cause of complaint +against you . . . I know you were not able, you were incapable of +thinking and seeing as I do, and therefore you could not change your +life and make sacrifices to that which you did not accept. Besides, I do +not blame you; on the contrary, I remember with love and gratitude the +thirty-five long years of our life in common, and especially the first +half of the time when, with the courage and devotion of your maternal +nature, you bravely bore what you regarded as your mission. You have +given largely of maternal love and made some heavy sacrifices . . . but +during the latter part of our life together, during the last fifteen +years, our ways have parted. I cannot think myself the guilty one; I +know that if I have changed it is not owing to you, or to the world, +but because I could not do otherwise; nor can I judge you for not having +followed me, and I thank you for what you have given me and will ever +remember it with affection. + +"Adieu, my dear Sophie, I love you." + +The personal isolation he craved was never to be his; but the isolation +of spirit essential to leadership, whether of thought or action, grew +year by year, so that in his own household he was veritably "in it but +not of it." + +At times his loneliness weighed upon him, as when he wrote: "You would +find it difficult to imagine how isolated I am, to what an extent my +true self is despised by those who surround me." But he must, none +the less, have realised, as all prophets and seers have done, that +solitariness of soul and freedom from the petty complexities of social +life are necessary to the mystic whose constant endeavour is to simplify +and to winnow, the transient from the eternal. + +Notwithstanding the isolation of his inner life he remained--or it might +more accurately be said he became--the most accessible of men. + +Appeals for guidance came to him from all parts of the world--America, +France, China, Japan--while Yasnaya Polyana was the frequent resort of +those needing advice, sympathy, or practical assistance. None appealed +to him in vain; at the same time, he was exceedingly chary of explicit +rules of conduct. It might be said of Tolstoy that he became a spiritual +leader in spite of himself, so averse was he from assuming authority. +His aim was ever to teach his followers themselves to hear the inward +monitory voice, and to obey it of their own accord. "To know the meaning +of Life, you must first know the meaning of Love," he would say; "and +then see that you do what love bids you." His distrust of "epidemic +ideas" extended to religious communities and congregations. + +"We must not go to meet each other, but go each of us to God. You say +it is easier to go all together? Why yes, to dig or to mow. But one can +only draw near to God in isolation . . . I picture the world to myself +as a vast temple, in which the light falls from above in the very +centre. To meet together all must go towards the light. There we shall +find ourselves, gathered from many quarters, united with men we did not +expect to see; therein is joy." + +The humility which had so completely supplanted his youthful arrogance, +and which made him shrink from impelling others to follow in his steps, +endued him also with the teachableness of a child towards those whom +he accepted as his spiritual mentors. It was a peasant nonconformist +writer, Soutaev, who by conversing with him on the revelations of the +Gospels helped him to regain his childhood's faith, and incidentally +brought him into closer relations with religious, but otherwise +untaught, men of the people. He saw how instead of railing against fate +after the manner of their social superiors, they endured sickness and +misfortune with a calm confidence that all was by the will of God, as it +must be and should be. From his peasant teachers he drew the watchwords +Faith, Love, and Labour, and by their light he established that concord +in his own life without which the concord of the universe remains +impossible to realise. The process of inward struggle--told with +unsparing truth in "Confession"--is finely painted in "Father Serge," +whose life story points to the conclusion at which Tolstoy ultimately +arrived, namely, that not in withdrawal from the common trials and +temptations of men, but in sharing them, lies our best fulfilment of our +duty towards mankind and towards God. Tolstoy gave practical effect to +this principle, and to this long-felt desire to be of use to the poor of +the country, by editing and publishing, aided by his friend Chertkov,* +modern literature has awakened so universal a sense of sympathy and +admiration, perhaps because none has been so entirely a labour of love. + + * In Russia and out of it Mr. Chertkov has been the subject + of violent attack. Many of the misunderstandings of + Tolstoy's later years have also been attributed by critics, + and by those who hate or belittle his ideas, to the + influence of this friend. These attacks are very regrettable + and require a word of protest. From tales, suited to the + means and intelligence of the humblest peasant. The + undertaking was initiated in 1885, and continued for many + years to occupy much of Tolstoy's time and energies. He + threw himself with ardour into his editorial duties; reading + and correcting manuscripts, returning them sometimes to the + authors with advice as to their reconstruction, and making + translations from foreign works--all this in addition to his + own original contributions, in which he carried out the + principle which he constantly laid down for his + collaborators, that literary graces must be set aside, and + that the mental calibre of those for whom the books were + primarily intended must be constantly borne in mind. He + attained a splendid fulfilment of his own theories, + employing the moujik's expressive vernacular in portraying + his homely wisdom, religious faith, and goodness of nature. + Sometimes the prevailing simplicity of style and motive is + tinged with a vague colouring of oriental legend, but the + personal accent is marked throughout. No similar achievement + in the beginning Mr. Chertkov has striven to spread the + ideas of Tolstoy, and has won neither glory nor money from + his faithful and single-hearted devotion. He has carried on + his work with a rare love and sympathy in spite of + difficulties. No one appreciated or valued his friendship + and self-sacrifice more than Tolstoy himself, who was firmly + attached to him from the date of his first meeting, + consulting him and confiding in him at every moment, even + during Mr. Chertkov's long exile. + +The series of educational primers which Tolstoy prepared and published +concurrently with the "Popular Tales" have had an equally large, though +exclusively Russian, circulation, being admirably suited to their +purpose--that of teaching young children the rudiments of history, +geography, and science. Little leisure remained for the service of Art. + +The history of Tolstoy as a man of letters forms a separate page of his +biography, and one into which it is not possible to enter in the brief +compass of this introduction. It requires, however, a passing allusion. +Tolstoy even in his early days never seems to have approached near to +that manner of life which the literary man leads: neither to have shut +himself up in his study, nor to have barred the entrance to disturbing +friends. On the one hand, he was fond of society, and during his brief +residence in St. Petersburg was never so engrossed in authorship as to +forego the pleasure of a ball or evening entertainment. Little wonder, +when one looks back at the brilliant young officer surrounded and petted +by the great hostesses of Russia. On the other hand, he was no devotee +at the literary altar. No patron of literature could claim him as his +constant visitor; no inner circle of men of letters monopolised his idle +hours. Afterwards, when he left the capital and settled in the country, +he was almost entirely cut off from the association of literary men, and +never seems to have sought their companionship. Nevertheless, he had all +through his life many fast friends, among them such as the poet Fet, +the novelist Chekhov, and the great Russian librarian Stassov, who often +came to him. These visits always gave him pleasure. The discussions, +whether on the literary movements of the day or on the merits of Goethe +or the humour of Gogol, were welcome interruptions to his ever-absorbing +metaphysical studies. In later life, also, though never in touch with +the rising generation of authors, we find him corresponding with them, +criticising their style and subject matter. When Andreev, the most +modern of all modern Russian writers, came to pay his respects to +Tolstoy some months before his death, he was received with cordiality, +although Tolstoy, as he expressed himself afterwards, felt that there +was a great gulf fixed between them. + +Literature, as literature, had lost its charm for him. "You are +perfectly right," he writes to a friend; "I care only for the idea, and +I pay no attention to my style." The idea was the important thing to +Tolstoy in everything that he read or wrote. When his attention was +drawn to an illuminating essay on the poet Lermontov he was pleased with +it, not because it demonstrated Lermontov's position in the literary +history of Russia, but because it pointed out the moral aims which +underlay the wild Byronism of his works. He reproached the novelist +Leskov, who had sent him his latest novel, for the "exuberance" of his +flowers of speech and for his florid sentences--beautiful in their way, +he says, but inexpedient and unnecessary. He even counselled the younger +generation to give up poetry as a form of expression and to use prose +instead. Poetry, he maintained, was always artificial and obscure. +His attitude towards the art of writing remained to the end one of +hostility. Whenever he caught himself working for art he was wont to +reproach himself, and his diaries contain many recriminations against +his own weakness in yielding to this besetting temptation. Yet to these +very lapses we are indebted for this collection of fragments. + +The greater number of stories and plays contained in these volumes +date from the years following upon Tolstoy's pedagogic activity. Long +intervals, however, elapsed in most cases between the original synopsis +and the final touches. Thus "Father Serge," of which he sketched the +outline to Mr. Chertkov in 1890, was so often put aside to make way for +purely ethical writings that not till 1898 does the entry occur in his +diary, "To-day, quite unexpectedly, I finished Serge." A year previously +a dramatic incident had come to his knowledge, which he elaborated +in the play entitled "The Man who was dead." It ran on the lines +familiarised by Enoch Arden and similar stories, of a wife deserted +by her husband and supported in his absence by a benefactor, whom +she subsequently marries. In this instance the supposed dead man was +suddenly resuscitated as the result of his own admissions in his +cups, the wife and her second husband being consequently arrested and +condemned to a term of imprisonment. Tolstoy seriously attacked the +subject during the summer of 1900, and having brought it within a +measurable distance of completion in a shorter time than was usual with +him, submitted it to the judgment of a circle of friends. The drama made +a deep impression on the privileged few who read it, and some mention of +it appeared in the newspapers. + +Shortly afterwards a young man came to see Tolstoy in private. He begged +him to refrain from publishing "The Man who was dead," as it was the +history of his mother's life, and would distress her gravely, besides +possibly occasioning further police intervention. Tolstoy promptly +consented, and the play remained, as it now appears, in an unfinished +condition. He had already felt doubtful whether "it was a thing God +would approve," Art for Art's sake having in his eyes no right to +existence. For this reason a didactic tendency is increasingly evident +in these later stories. "After the Ball" gives a painful picture of +Russian military cruelty; "The Forged Coupon" traces the cancerous +growth of evil, and demonstrates with dramatic force the cumulative +misery resulting from one apparently trivial act of wrongdoing. + +Of the three plays included in these volumes, "The Light that shines +in Darkness" has a special claim to our attention as an example of +autobiography in the guise of drama. It is a specimen of Tolstoy's gift +of seeing himself as others saw him, and viewing a question in all +its bearings. It presents not actions but ideas, giving with entire +impartiality the opinions of his home circle, of his friends, of the +Church and of the State, in regard to his altruistic propaganda and +to the anarchism of which he has been accused. The scene of the +renunciation of the estates of the hero may be taken as a literal +version of what actually took place in regard to Tolstoy himself, +while the dialogues by which the piece is carried forward are more like +verbatim records than imaginary conversations. + +This play was, in addition, a medium by which Tolstoy emphasised +his abhorrence of military service, and probably for this reason its +production is absolutely forbidden in Russia. A word may be said here on +Tolstoy's so-called Anarchy, a term admitting of grave misconstruction. +In that he denied the benefit of existing governments to the people +over whom they ruled, and in that he stigmatised standing armies as +"collections of disciplined murderers," Tolstoy was an Anarchist; but in +that he reprobated the methods of violence, no matter how righteous +the cause at stake, and upheld by word and deed the gospel of Love +and submission, he cannot be judged guilty of Anarchism in its full +significance. He could not, however, suppress the sympathy which he +felt with those whose resistance to oppression brought them into deadly +conflict with autocracy. He found in the Caucasian chieftain, Hadji +Murat, a subject full of human interest and dramatic possibilities; and +though some eight years passed before he corrected the manuscript for +the last time (in 1903), it is evident from the numbers of entries in +his diary that it had greatly occupied his thoughts so far back even +as the period which he spent in Tiflis prior to the Crimean war. It was +then that the final subjugation of the Caucasus took place, and Shamil +and his devoted band made their last struggle for freedom. After the +lapse of half a century, Tolstoy gave vent in "Hadji Murat" to the +resentment which the military despotism of Nicholas I. had roused in his +sensitive and fearless spirit. + +Courage was the dominant note in Tolstoy's character, and none have +excelled him in portraying brave men. His own fearlessness was of the +rarest, in that it was both physical and moral. The mettle tried and +proved at Sebastopol sustained him when he had drawn on himself the +bitter animosity of "Holy Synod" and the relentless anger of Czardom. +In spite of his nonresistance doctrine, Tolstoy's courage was not of +the passive order. It was his natural bent to rouse his foes to combat, +rather than wait for their attack, to put on the defensive every +falsehood and every wrong of which he was cognisant. Truth in himself +and in others was what he most desired, and that to which he strove at +all costs to attain. He was his own severest critic, weighing his own +actions, analysing his own thoughts, and baring himself to the eyes +of the world with unflinching candour. Greatest of autobiographers, he +extenuates nothing: you see the whole man with his worst faults and +best qualities; weaknesses accentuated by the energy with which they +are charactered, apparent waste of mental forces bent on solving the +insoluble, inherited tastes and prejudices, altruistic impulses +and virile passions, egoism and idealism, all strangely mingled and +continually warring against each other, until from the death-throes of +spiritual conflict issued a new birth and a new life. In the ancient +Scripture "God is love" Tolstoy discerned fresh meaning, and strove with +superhuman energy to bring home that meaning to the world at large. His +doctrine in fact appears less as a new light in the darkness than as a +revival of the pure flame of "the Mystic of the Galilean hills," whose +teaching he accepted while denying His divinity. + +Of Tolstoy's beliefs in regard to the Christian religion it may be said +that with advancing years he became more and more disposed to regard +religious truth as one continuous stream of spiritual thought flowing +through the ages of man's history, emanating principally from the +inspired prophets and seers of Israel, India, and China. Finally, +in 1909, in a letter to a friend he summed up his conviction in the +following words:--"For me the doctrine of Jesus is simply one of those +beautiful religious doctrines which we have received from Egyptian, +Jewish, Hindoo, Chinese, and Greek antiquity. The two great principles +of Jesus: love of God--in a word absolute perfection--and love of one's +neighbour, that is to say, love of all men without distinction, have +been preached by all the sages of the world--Krishna, Buddha, Lao-tse, +Confucius, Socrates, Plato, Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius, and among the +moderns, Rousseau, Pascal, Kant, Emerson, Channing, and many others. +Religious and moral truth is everywhere and always the same. I have +no predilection whatever for Christianity. If I have been particularly +interested in the doctrine of Jesus it is, firstly, because I was born +in that religion and have lived among Christians; secondly, because I +have found a great spiritual joy in freeing the doctrine in its purity +from the astounding falsifications wrought by the Churches." + +Tolstoy's life-work was indeed a splendid striving to free truth from +falsehood, to simplify the complexities of civilisation and demonstrate +their futility. Realists as gifted have come and gone and left but +little trace. It is conceivable that the great trilogy of "Anna +Karenina," "War and Peace," and "Resurrection" may one day be forgotten, +but Tolstoy's teaching stands on firmer foundations, and has stirred the +hearts of thousands who are indifferent to the finest display of psychic +analysis. He has taught men to venture beyond the limits set by reason, +to rise above the actual and to find the meaning of life in love. It was +his mission to probe our moral ulcers to the roots and to raise moribund +ideals from the dust, breathing his own vitality into them, till they +rose before our eyes as living aspirations. The spiritual joy of +which he wrote was no rhetorical hyperbole; it was manifest in the man +himself, and was the fount of the lofty idealism which made him not only +"the Conscience of Russia" but of the civilised world. + +Idealism is one of those large abstractions which are invested by +various minds with varying shades of meaning, and which find expression +in an infinite number of forms. Ideals bred and fostered in the heart of +man receive at birth an impress from the life that engenders them, and +when that life is tempest-tossed the thought that springs from it +must bear a birth-mark of the storm. That birth-mark is stamped on all +Tolstoy's utterances, the simplest and the most metaphysical. But though +he did not pass scathless through the purging fires, nor escape with +eyes undimmed from the mystic light which flooded his soul, his ideal is +not thereby invalidated. It was, he admitted, unattainable, but none +the less a state of perfection to which we must continually aspire, +undaunted by partial failure. + +"There is nothing wrong in not living up to the ideal which you have +made for yourself, but what is wrong is, if on looking back, you cannot +see that you have made the least step nearer to your ideal." + +How far Tolstoy's doctrines may influence succeeding generations it is +impossible to foretell; but when time has extinguished what is merely +personal or racial, the divine spark which he received from his great +spiritual forerunners in other times and countries will undoubtedly be +found alight. His universality enabled him to unite himself closely with +them in mental sympathy; sometimes so closely, as in the case of J. J. +Rousseau, as to raise analogies and comparisons designed to show that he +merely followed in a well-worn pathway. Yet the similarity of Tolstoy's +ideas to those of the author of the "Contrat Social" hardly goes beyond +a mutual distrust of Art and Science as aids to human happiness +and virtue, and a desire to establish among mankind a true sense of +brotherhood. For the rest, the appeals which they individually made to +Humanity were as dissimilar as the currents of their lives, and equally +dissimilar in effect. + +The magic flute of Rousseau's eloquence breathed fanaticism into his +disciples, and a desire to mass themselves against the foes of liberty. +Tolstoy's trumpet-call sounds a deeper note. It pierces the heart, +summoning each man to the inquisition of his own conscience, and to +justify his existence by labour, that he may thereafter sleep the sleep +of peace. + +The exaltation which he awakens owes nothing to rhythmical language +nor to subtle interpretations of sensuous emotion; it proceeds from a +perception of eternal truth, the truth that has love, faith, courage, +and self-sacrifice for the cornerstones of its enduring edifice. + + NOTE--Owing to circumstances entirely outside the control of + the editor some of these translations have been done in + haste and there has not been sufficient time for revision. + + The translators were chosen by an agent of the executor and + not by the editor. + + +LIST OF POSTHUMOUS WORKS, GIVING DATE WHEN EACH WAS FINISHED OR LENGTH +OF TIME OCCUPIED IN WRITING. + + Father Serge. 1890-98. + Introduction to the History of a Mother. 1894. + Memoirs of a Mother. 1894. + The Young Czar. 1894. + Diary of a Lunatic. 1896. + Hadji Murat. 1896-1904. + The Light that shines in Darkness. 1898-1901. + The Man who was dead. 1900. + After the Ball. 1903. + The Forged Coupon. 1904. + Alexis. 1905. + Diary of Alexander I. 1905. + The Dream. 1906. + Father Vassily. 1906. + There are no Guilty People. 1909. + The Wisdom of Children. 1909. + The Cause of it All. 1910. + Chodynko. 1910. + Two Travellers. Date uncertain. + + + + +THE FORGED COUPON + + + + +PART FIRST + + +I + +FEDOR MIHAILOVICH SMOKOVNIKOV, the president of the local Income Tax +Department, a man of unswerving honesty--and proud of it, too--a +gloomy Liberal, a free-thinker, and an enemy to every manifestation of +religious feeling, which he thought a relic of superstition, came home +from his office feeling very much annoyed. The Governor of the province +had sent him an extraordinarily stupid minute, almost assuming that his +dealings had been dishonest. + +Fedor Mihailovich felt embittered, and wrote at once a sharp answer. On +his return home everything seemed to go contrary to his wishes. + +It was five minutes to five, and he expected the dinner to be served at +once, but he was told it was not ready. He banged the door and went to +his study. Somebody knocked at the door. "Who the devil is that?" he +thought; and shouted,--"Who is there?" + +The door opened and a boy of fifteen came in, the son of Fedor +Mihailovich, a pupil of the fifth class of the local school. + +"What do you want?" + +"It is the first of the month to-day, father." + +"Well! You want your money?" + +It had been arranged that the father should pay his son a monthly +allowance of three roubles as pocket money. Fedor Mihailovich frowned, +took out of his pocket-book a coupon of two roubles fifty kopeks which +he found among the bank-notes, and added to it fifty kopeks in silver +out of the loose change in his purse. The boy kept silent, and did not +take the money his father proffered him. + +"Father, please give me some more in advance." + +"What?" + +"I would not ask for it, but I have borrowed a small sum from a friend, +and promised upon my word of honour to pay it off. My honour is dear to +me, and that is why I want another three roubles. I don't like asking +you; but, please, father, give me another three roubles." + +"I have told you--" + +"I know, father, but just for once." + +"You have an allowance of three roubles and you ought to be content. I +had not fifty kopeks when I was your age." + +"Now, all my comrades have much more. Petrov and Ivanitsky have fifty +roubles a month." + +"And I tell you that if you behave like them you will be a scoundrel. +Mind that." + +"What is there to mind? You never understand my position. I shall be +disgraced if I don't pay my debt. It is all very well for you to speak +as you do." + +"Be off, you silly boy! Be off!" + +Fedor Mihailovich jumped from his seat and pounced upon his son. "Be +off, I say!" he shouted. "You deserve a good thrashing, all you boys!" + +His son was at once frightened and embittered. The bitterness was even +greater than the fright. With his head bent down he hastily turned to +the door. Fedor Mihailovich did not intend to strike him, but he was +glad to vent his wrath, and went on shouting and abusing the boy till he +had closed the door. + +When the maid came in to announce that dinner was ready, Fedor +Mihailovich rose. + +"At last!" he said. "I don't feel hungry any longer." + +He went to the dining-room with a sullen face. At table his wife made +some remark, but he gave her such a short and angry answer that she +abstained from further speech. The son also did not lift his eyes from +his plate, and was silent all the time. The trio finished their dinner +in silence, rose from the table and separated, without a word. + +After dinner the boy went to his room, took the coupon and the change +out of his pocket, and threw the money on the table. After that he took +off his uniform and put on a jacket. + +He sat down to work, and began to study Latin grammar out of a +dog's-eared book. After a while he rose, closed and bolted the door, +shifted the money into a drawer, took out some cigarette papers, rolled +one up, stuffed it with cotton wool, and began to smoke. + +He spent nearly two hours over his grammar and writing books without +understanding a word of what he saw before him; then he rose and began +to stamp up and down the room, trying to recollect all that his father +had said to him. All the abuse showered upon him, and worst of all his +father's angry face, were as fresh in his memory as if he saw and heard +them all over again. "Silly boy! You ought to get a good thrashing!" And +the more he thought of it the angrier he grew. He remembered also how +his father said: "I see what a scoundrel you will turn out. I know you +will. You are sure to become a cheat, if you go on like that." He had +certainly forgotten how he felt when he was young! "What crime have I +committed, I wonder? I wanted to go to the theatre, and having no money +borrowed some from Petia Grouchetsky. Was that so very wicked of me? +Another father would have been sorry for me; would have asked how it all +happened; whereas he just called me names. He never thinks of anything +but himself. When it is he who has not got something he wants--that is a +different matter! Then all the house is upset by his shouts. And I--I am +a scoundrel, a cheat, he says. No, I don't love him, although he is my +father. It may be wrong, but I hate him." + +There was a knock at the door. The servant brought a letter--a message +from his friend. "They want an answer," said the servant. + +The letter ran as follows: "I ask you now for the third time to pay me +back the six roubles you have borrowed; you are trying to avoid me. That +is not the way an honest man ought to behave. Will you please send the +amount by my messenger? I am myself in a frightful fix. Can you not get +the money somewhere?--Yours, according to whether you send the money or +not, with scorn, or love, Grouchetsky." + +"There we have it! Such a pig! Could he not wait a while? I will have +another try." + +Mitia went to his mother. This was his last hope. His mother was very +kind, and hardly ever refused him anything. She would probably have +helped him this time also out of his trouble, but she was in great +anxiety: her younger child, Petia, a boy of two, had fallen ill. She got +angry with Mitia for rushing so noisily into the nursery, and refused +him almost without listening to what he had to say. Mitia muttered +something to himself and turned to go. The mother felt sorry for him. +"Wait, Mitia," she said; "I have not got the money you want now, but I +will get it for you to-morrow." + +But Mitia was still raging against his father. + +"What is the use of having it to-morrow, when I want it to-day? I am +going to see a friend. That is all I have got to say." + +He went out, banging the door. . . . + +"Nothing else is left to me. He will tell me how to pawn my watch," he +thought, touching his watch in his pocket. + +Mitia went to his room, took the coupon and the watch from the drawer, +put on his coat, and went to Mahin. + +II + +MAHIN was his schoolfellow, his senior, a grown-up young man with a +moustache. He gambled, had a large feminine acquaintance, and always had +ready cash. He lived with his aunt. Mitia quite realised that Mahin was +not a respectable fellow, but when he was in his company he could not +help doing what he wished. Mahin was in when Mitia called, and was just +preparing to go to the theatre. His untidy room smelt of scented soap +and eau-de-Cologne. + +"That's awful, old chap," said Mahin, when Mitia telling him about his +troubles, showed the coupon and the fifty kopeks, and added that he +wanted nine roubles more. "We might, of course, go and pawn your watch. +But we might do something far better." And Mahin winked an eye. + +"What's that?" + +"Something quite simple." Mahin took the coupon in his hand. "Put ONE +before the 2.50 and it will be 12.50." + +"But do such coupons exist?" + +"Why, certainly; the thousand roubles notes have coupons of 12.50. I +have cashed one in the same way." + +"You don't say so?" + +"Well, yes or no?" asked Mahin, taking the pen and smoothing the coupon +with the fingers of his left hand. + +"But it is wrong." + +"Nonsense!" + +"Nonsense, indeed," thought Mitia, and again his father's hard words +came back to his memory. "Scoundrel! As you called me that, I might as +well be it." He looked into Mahin's face. Mahin looked at him, smiling +with perfect ease. + +"Well?" he said. + +"All right. I don't mind." + +Mahin carefully wrote the unit in front of 2.50. + +"Now let us go to the shop across the road; they sell photographers' +materials there. I just happen to want a frame--for this young person +here." He took out of his pocket a photograph of a young lady with large +eyes, luxuriant hair, and an uncommonly well-developed bust. + +"Is she not sweet? Eh?" + +"Yes, yes . . . of course . . ." + +"Well, you see.--But let us go." + +Mahin took his coat, and they left the house. + +III + +THE two boys, having rung the door-bell, entered the empty shop, +which had shelves along the walls and photographic appliances on them, +together with show-cases on the counters. A plain woman, with a kind +face, came through the inner door and asked from behind the counter what +they required. + +"A nice frame, if you please, madam." + +"At what price?" asked the woman; she wore mittens on her swollen +fingers with which she rapidly handled picture-frames of different +shapes. + +"These are fifty kopeks each; and these are a little more expensive. +There is rather a pretty one, of quite a new style; one rouble and +twenty kopeks." + +"All right, I will have this. But could not you make it cheaper? Let us +say one rouble." + +"We don't bargain in our shop," said the shopkeeper with a dignified +air. + +"Well, I will take it," said Mahin, and put the coupon on the counter. +"Wrap up the frame and give me change. But please be quick. We must be +off to the theatre, and it is getting late." + +"You have plenty of time," said the shopkeeper, examining the coupon +very closely because of her shortsightedness. + +"It will look lovely in that frame, don't you think so?" said Mahin, +turning to Mitia. + +"Have you no small change?" asked the shop-woman. + +"I am sorry, I have not. My father gave me that, so I have to cash it." + +"But surely you have one rouble twenty?" + +"I have only fifty kopeks in cash. But what are you afraid of? You don't +think, I suppose, that we want to cheat you and give you bad money?" + +"Oh, no; I don't mean anything of the sort." + +"You had better give it to me back. We will cash it somewhere else." + +"How much have I to pay you back? Eleven and something." + +She made a calculation on the counter, opened the desk, took out +a ten-roubles note, looked for change and added to the sum six +twenty-kopeks coins and two five-kopek pieces. + +"Please make a parcel of the frame," said Mahin, taking the money in a +leisurely fashion. + +"Yes, sir." She made a parcel and tied it with a string. + +Mitia only breathed freely when the door bell rang behind them, and they +were again in the street. + +"There are ten roubles for you, and let me have the rest. I will give it +back to you." + +Mahin went off to the theatre, and Mitia called on Grouchetsky to repay +the money he had borrowed from him. + +IV + +AN hour after the boys were gone Eugene Mihailovich, the owner of the +shop, came home, and began to count his receipts. + +"Oh, you clumsy fool! Idiot that you are!" he shouted, addressing his +wife, after having seen the coupon and noticed the forgery. + +"But I have often seen you, Eugene, accepting coupons in payment, and +precisely twelve rouble ones," retorted his wife, very humiliated, +grieved, and all but bursting into tears. "I really don't know how they +contrived to cheat me," she went on. "They were pupils of the school, +in uniform. One of them was quite a handsome boy, and looked so comme il +faut." + +"A comme il faut fool, that is what you are!" The husband went on +scolding her, while he counted the cash. . . . When I accept coupons, I +see what is written on them. And you probably looked only at the boys' +pretty faces. "You had better behave yourself in your old age." + +His wife could not stand this, and got into a fury. + +"That is just like you men! Blaming everybody around you. But when it is +you who lose fifty-four roubles at cards--that is of no consequence in +your eyes." + +"That is a different matter + +"I don't want to talk to you," said his wife, and went to her room. +There she began to remind herself that her family was opposed to her +marriage, thinking her present husband far below her in social rank, and +that it was she who insisted on marrying him. Then she went on thinking +of the child she had lost, and how indifferent her husband had been to +their loss. She hated him so intensely at that moment that she wished +for his death. Her wish frightened her, however, and she hurriedly began +to dress and left the house. When her husband came from the shop to the +inner rooms of their flat she was gone. Without waiting for him she had +dressed and gone off to friends--a teacher of French in the school, a +Russified Pole, and his wife--who had invited her and her husband to a +party in their house that evening. + +V + +THE guests at the party had tea and cakes offered to them, and sat down +after that to play whist at a number of card-tables. + +The partners of Eugene Mihailovich's wife were the host himself, an +officer, and an old and very stupid lady in a wig, a widow who owned a +music-shop; she loved playing cards and played remarkably well. But it +was Eugene Mihailovich's wife who was the winner all the time. The best +cards were continually in her hands. At her side she had a plate with +grapes and a pear and was in the best of spirits. + +"And Eugene Mihailovich? Why is he so late?" asked the hostess, who +played at another table. + +"Probably busy settling accounts," said Eugene Mihailovich's wife. "He +has to pay off the tradesmen, to get in firewood." The quarrel she had +with her husband revived in her memory; she frowned, and her hands, from +which she had not taken off the mittens, shook with fury against him. + +"Oh, there he is.--We have just been speaking of you," said the hostess +to Eugene Mihailovich, who came in at that very moment. "Why are you so +late?" + +"I was busy," answered Eugene Mihailovich, in a gay voice, rubbing his +hands. And to his wife's surprise he came to her side and said,--"You +know, I managed to get rid of the coupon." + +"No! You don't say so!" + +"Yes, I used it to pay for a cartload of firewood I bought from a +peasant." + +And Eugene Mihailovich related with great indignation to the company +present--his wife adding more details to his narrative--how his wife had +been cheated by two unscrupulous schoolboys. + +"Well, and now let us sit down to work," he said, taking his place at +one of the whist-tables when his turn came, and beginning to shuffle the +cards. + + +VI + +EUGENE MIHAILOVICH had actually used the coupon to buy firewood from the +peasant Ivan Mironov, who had thought of setting up in business on the +seventeen roubles he possessed. He hoped in this way to earn another +eight roubles, and with the twenty-five roubles thus amassed he intended +to buy a good strong horse, which he would want in the spring for work +in the fields and for driving on the roads, as his old horse was almost +played out. + +Ivan Mironov's commercial method consisted in buying from the stores a +cord of wood and dividing it into five cartloads, and then driving about +the town, selling each of these at the price the stores charged for +a quarter of a cord. That unfortunate day Ivan Mironov drove out very +early with half a cartload, which he soon sold. He loaded up again with +another cartload which he hoped to sell, but he looked in vain for a +customer; no one would buy it. It was his bad luck all that day to come +across experienced towns-people, who knew all the tricks of the peasants +in selling firewood, and would not believe that he had actually brought +the wood from the country as he assured them. He got hungry, and felt +cold in his ragged woollen coat. It was nearly below zero when evening +came on; his horse which he had treated without mercy, hoping soon to +sell it to the knacker's yard, refused to move a step. So Ivan Mironov +was quite ready to sell his firewood at a loss when he met Eugene +Mihailovich, who was on his way home from the tobacconist. + +"Buy my cartload of firewood, sir. I will give it to you cheap. My poor +horse is tired, and can't go any farther." + +"Where do you come from?" + +"From the country, sir. This firewood is from our place. Good dry wood, +I can assure you." + +"Good wood indeed! I know your tricks. Well, what is your price?" + +Ivan Mironov began by asking a high price, but reduced it once, and +finished by selling the cartload for just what it had cost him. + +"I'm giving it to you cheap, just to please you, sir.--Besides, I am +glad it is not a long way to your house," he added. + +Eugene Mihailovich did not bargain very much. He did not mind paying a +little more, because he was delighted to think he could make use of the +coupon and get rid of it. With great difficulty Ivan Mironov managed +at last, by pulling the shafts himself, to drag his cart into the +courtyard, where he was obliged to unload the firewood unaided and pile +it up in the shed. The yard-porter was out. Ivan Mironov hesitated at +first to accept the coupon, but Eugene Mihailovich insisted, and as he +looked a very important person the peasant at last agreed. + +He went by the backstairs to the servants' room, crossed himself before +the ikon, wiped his beard which was covered with icicles, turned up the +skirts of his coat, took out of his pocket a leather purse, and out +of the purse eight roubles and fifty kopeks, and handed the change +to Eugene Mihailovich. Carefully folding the coupon, he put it in the +purse. Then, according to custom, he thanked the gentleman for his +kindness, and, using the whip-handle instead of the lash, he belaboured +the half-frozen horse that he had doomed to an early death, and betook +himself to a public-house. + +Arriving there, Ivan Mironov called for vodka and tea for which he paid +eight kopeks. Comfortable and warm after the tea, he chatted in the very +best of spirits with a yard-porter who was sitting at his table. Soon +he grew communicative and told his companion all about the conditions +of his life. He told him he came from the village Vassilievsky, twelve +miles from town, and also that he had his allotment of land given to +him by his family, as he wanted to live apart from his father and his +brothers; that he had a wife and two children; the elder boy went to +school, and did not yet help him in his work. He also said he lived in +lodgings and intended going to the horse-fair the next day to look for a +good horse, and, may be, to buy one. He went on to state that he had now +nearly twenty-five roubles--only one rouble short--and that half of it +was a coupon. He took the coupon out of his purse to show to his new +friend. The yard-porter was an illiterate man, but he said he had had +such coupons given him by lodgers to change; that they were good; but +that one might also chance on forged ones; so he advised the peasant, +for the sake of security, to change it at once at the counter. Ivan +Mironov gave the coupon to the waiter and asked for change. The waiter, +however, did not bring the change, but came back with the manager, a +bald-headed man with a shining face, who was holding the coupon in his +fat hand. + +"Your money is no good," he said, showing the coupon, but apparently +determined not to give it back. + +"The coupon must be all right. I got it from a gentleman." + +"It is bad, I tell you. The coupon is forged." + +"Forged? Give it back to me." + +"I will not. You fellows have got to be punished for such tricks. Of +course, you did it yourself--you and some of your rascally friends." + +"Give me the money. What right have you--" + +"Sidor! Call a policeman," said the barman to the waiter. Ivan Mironov +was rather drunk, and in that condition was hard to manage. He seized +the manager by the collar and began to shout. + +"Give me back my money, I say. I will go to the gentleman who gave it to +me. I know where he lives." + +The manager had to struggle with all his force to get loose from Ivan +Mironov, and his shirt was torn,--"Oh, that's the way you behave! Get +hold of him." + +The waiter took hold of Ivan Mironov; at that moment the policeman +arrived. Looking very important, he inquired what had happened, and +unhesitatingly gave his orders: + +"Take him to the police-station." + +As to the coupon, the policeman put it in his pocket; Ivan Mironov, +together with his horse, was brought to the nearest station. + + +VII + +IVAN MIRONOV had to spend the night in the police-station, in the +company of drunkards and thieves. It was noon of the next day when he +was summoned to the police officer; put through a close examination, +and sent in the care of a policeman to Eugene Mihailovich's shop. Ivan +Mironov remembered the street and the house. + +The policeman asked for the shopkeeper, showed him the coupon and +confronted him with Ivan Mironov, who declared that he had received the +coupon in that very place. Eugene Mihailovich at once assumed a very +severe and astonished air. + +"You are mad, my good fellow," he said. "I have never seen this man +before in my life," he added, addressing the policeman. + +"It is a sin, sir," said Ivan Mironov. "Think of the hour when you will +die." + +"Why, you must be dreaming! You have sold your firewood to some one +else," said Eugene Mihailovich. "But wait a minute. I will go and ask my +wife whether she bought any firewood yesterday." Eugene Mihailovich left +them and immediately called the yard-porter Vassily, a strong, handsome, +quick, cheerful, well-dressed man. + +He told Vassily that if any one should inquire where the last supply of +firewood was bought, he was to say they'd got it from the stores, and +not from a peasant in the street. + +"A peasant has come," he said to Vassily, "who has declared to the +police that I gave him a forged coupon. He is a fool and talks nonsense, +but you, are a clever man. Mind you say that we always get the firewood +from the stores. And, by the way, I've been thinking some time of giving +you money to buy a new jacket," added Eugene Mihailovich, and gave the +man five roubles. Vassily looking with pleasure first at the five rouble +note, then at Eugene Mihailovich's face, shook his head and smiled. + +"I know, those peasant folks have no brains. Ignorance, of course. Don't +you be uneasy. I know what I have to say." + +Ivan Mironov, with tears in his eyes, implored Eugene Mihailovich over +and over again to acknowledge the coupon he had given him, and the +yard-porter to believe what he said, but it proved quite useless; they +both insisted that they had never bought firewood from a peasant in the +street. The policeman brought Ivan Mironov back to the police-station, +and he was charged with forging the coupon. Only after taking the advice +of a drunken office clerk in the same cell with him, and bribing the +police officer with five roubles, did Ivan Mironov get out of jail, +without the coupon, and with only seven roubles left out of the +twenty-five he had the day before. + +Of these seven roubles he spent three in the public-house and came home +to his wife dead drunk, with a bruised and swollen face. + +His wife was expecting a child, and felt very ill. She began to scold +her husband; he pushed her away, and she struck him. Without answering a +word he lay down on the plank and began to weep bitterly. + +Not till the next day did he tell his wife what had actually happened. +She believed him at once, and thoroughly cursed the dastardly rich man +who had cheated Ivan. He was sobered now, and remembering the advice +a workman had given him, with whom he had many a drink the day before, +decided to go to a lawyer and tell him of the wrong the owner of the +photograph shop had done him. + + +VIII + +THE lawyer consented to take proceedings on behalf of Ivan Mironov, not +so much for the sake of the fee, as because he believed the peasant, and +was revolted by the wrong done to him. + +Both parties appeared in the court when the case was tried, and the +yard-porter Vassily was summoned as witness. They repeated in the court +all they had said before to the police officials. Ivan Mironov again +called to his aid the name of the Divinity, and reminded the shopkeeper +of the hour of death. Eugene Mihailovich, although quite aware of his +wickedness, and the risks he was running, despite the rebukes of his +conscience, could not now change his testimony, and went on calmly to +deny all the allegations made against him. + +The yard-porter Vassily had received another ten roubles from his +master, and, quite unperturbed, asserted with a smile that he did not +know anything about Ivan Mironov. And when he was called upon to take +the oath, he overcame his inner qualms, and repeated with assumed ease +the terms of the oath, read to him by the old priest appointed to the +court. By the holy Cross and the Gospel, he swore that he spoke the +whole truth. + +The case was decided against Ivan Mironov, who was sentenced to pay five +roubles for expenses. This sum Eugene Mihailovich generously paid for +him. Before dismissing Ivan Mironov, the judge severely admonished him, +saying he ought to take care in the future not to accuse respectable +people, and that he also ought to be thankful that he was not forced to +pay the costs, and that he had escaped a prosecution for slander, for +which he would have been condemned to three months' imprisonment. + +"I offer my humble thanks," said Ivan Mironov; and, shaking his head, +left the court with a heavy sigh. + +The whole thing seemed to have ended well for Eugene Mihailovich and +the yard-porter Vassily. But only in appearance. Something had happened +which was not noticed by any one, but which was much more important than +all that had been exposed to view. + +Vassily had left his village and settled in town over two years ago. As +time went on he sent less and less money to his father, and he did not +ask his wife, who remained at home, to join him. He was in no need of +her; he could in town have as many wives as he wished, and much better +ones too than that clumsy, village-bred woman. Vassily, with each +recurring year, became more and more familiar with the ways of the town +people, forgetting the conventions of a country life. There everything +was so vulgar, so grey, so poor and untidy. Here, in town, all seemed on +the contrary so refined, nice, clean, and rich; so orderly too. And he +became more and more convinced that people in the country live just like +wild beasts, having no idea of what life is, and that only life in +town is real. He read books written by clever writers, and went to the +performances in the Peoples' Palace. In the country, people would not +see such wonders even in dreams. In the country old men say: "Obey the +law, and live with your wife; work; don't eat too much; don't care for +finery," while here, in town, all the clever and learned people--those, +of course, who know what in reality the law is--only pursue their own +pleasures. And they are the better for it. + +Previous to the incident of the forged coupon, Vassily could not +actually believe that rich people lived without any moral law. But after +that, still more after having perjured himself, and not being the worse +for it in spite of his fears--on the contrary, he had gained ten roubles +out of it--Vassily became firmly convinced that no moral laws whatever +exist, and that the only thing to do is to pursue one's own interests +and pleasures. This he now made his rule in life. He accordingly got as +much profit as he could out of purchasing goods for lodgers. But this +did not pay all his expenses. Then he took to stealing, whenever chance +offered--money and all sorts of valuables. One day he stole a purse full +of money from Eugene Mihailovich, but was found out. Eugene Mihailovich +did not hand him over to the police, but dismissed him on the spot. + +Vassily had no wish whatever to return home to his village, and remained +in Moscow with his sweetheart, looking out for a new job. He got one as +yard-porter at a grocer's, but with only small wages. The next day after +he had entered that service he was caught stealing bags. The grocer did +not call in the police, but gave him a good thrashing and turned him +out. After that he could not find work. The money he had left was soon +gone; he had to sell all his clothes and went about nearly in rags. His +sweetheart left him. But notwithstanding, he kept up his high spirits, +and when the spring came he started to walk home. + + +IX + +PETER NIKOLAEVICH SVENTIZKY, a short man in black spectacles (he had +weak eyes, and was threatened with complete blindness), got up, as was +his custom, at dawn of day, had a cup of tea, and putting on his short +fur coat trimmed with astrachan, went to look after the work on his +estate. + +Peter Nikolaevich had been an official in the Customs, and had gained +eighteen thousand roubles during his service. About twelve years ago he +quitted the service--not quite of his own accord: as a matter of fact he +had been compelled to leave--and bought an estate from a young landowner +who had dissipated his fortune. Peter Nikolaevich had married at an +earlier period, while still an official in the Customs. His wife, who +belonged to an old noble family, was an orphan, and was left without +money. She was a tall, stoutish, good-looking woman. They had no +children. Peter Nikolaevich had considerable practical talents and a +strong will. He was the son of a Polish gentleman, and knew nothing +about agriculture and land management; but when he acquired an estate of +his own, he managed it so well that after fifteen years the waste piece +of land, consisting of three hundred acres, became a model estate. All +the buildings, from the dwelling-house to the corn stores and the shed +for the fire engine were solidly built, had iron roofs, and were painted +at the right time. In the tool house carts, ploughs, harrows, stood in +perfect order, the harness was well cleaned and oiled. The horses were +not very big, but all home-bred, grey, well fed, strong and devoid of +blemish. + +The threshing machine worked in a roofed barn, the forage was kept in +a separate shed, and a paved drain was made from the stables. The cows +were home-bred, not very large, but giving plenty of milk; fowls were +also kept in the poultry yard, and the hens were of a special kind, +laying a great quantity of eggs. In the orchard the fruit trees were +well whitewashed and propped on poles to enable them to grow straight. +Everything was looked after--solid, clean, and in perfect order. Peter +Nikolaevich rejoiced in the perfect condition of his estate, and was +proud to have achieved it--not by oppressing the peasants, but, on the +contrary, by the extreme fairness of his dealings with them. + +Among the nobles of his province he belonged to the advanced party, and +was more inclined to liberal than conservative views, always taking the +side of the peasants against those who were still in favour of serfdom. +"Treat them well, and they will be fair to you," he used to say. Of +course, he did not overlook any carelessness on the part of those who +worked on his estate, and he urged them on to work if they were lazy; +but then he gave them good lodging, with plenty of good food, paid their +wages without any delay, and gave them drinks on days of festival. + +Walking cautiously on the melting snow--for the time of the year was +February--Peter Nikolaevich passed the stables, and made his way to the +cottage where his workmen were lodged. It was still dark, the darker +because of the dense fog; but the windows of the cottage were lighted. +The men had already got up. His intention was to urge them to begin +work. He had arranged that they should drive out to the forest and bring +back the last supply of firewood he needed before spring. + +"What is that?" he thought, seeing the door of the stable wide open. +"Hallo, who is there?" + +No answer. Peter Nikolaevich stepped into the stable. It was dark; the +ground was soft under his feet, and the air smelt of dung; on the right +side of the door were two loose boxes for a pair of grey horses. Peter +Nikolaevich stretched out his hand in their direction--one box was +empty. He put out his foot--the horse might have been lying down. But +his foot did not touch anything solid. "Where could they have taken the +horse?" he thought. They certainly had not harnessed it; all the sledges +stood still outside. Peter Nikolaevich went out of the stable. + +"Stepan, come here!" he called. + +Stepan was the head of the workmen's gang. He was just stepping out of +the cottage. + +"Here I am!" he said, in a cheerful voice. "Oh, is that you, Peter +Nikolaevich? Our men are coming." + +"Why is the stable door open? + +"Is it? I don't know anything about it. I say, Proshka, bring the +lantern!" + +Proshka came with the lantern. They all went to the stable, and Stepan +knew at once what had happened. + +"Thieves have been here, Peter Nikolaevich," he said. "The lock is +broken." + +"No; you don't say so!" + +"Yes, the brigands! I don't see 'Mashka.' 'Hawk' is here. But 'Beauty' +is not. Nor yet 'Dapple-grey.'" + +Three horses had been stolen! + +Peter Nikolaevich did not utter a word at first. He only frowned and +took deep breaths. + +"Oh," he said after a while. "If only I could lay hands on them! Who was +on guard?" + +"Peter. He evidently fell asleep." + +Peter Nikolaevich called in the police, and making an appeal to all the +authorities, sent his men to track the thieves. But the horses were not +to be found. + +"Wicked people," said Peter Nikolaevich. "How could they! I was always +so kind to them. Now, wait! Brigands! Brigands the whole lot of them. I +will no longer be kind." + + +X + +IN the meanwhile the horses, the grey ones, had all been disposed of; +Mashka was sold to the gipsies for eighteen roubles; Dapple-grey was +exchanged for another horse, and passed over to another peasant who +lived forty miles away from the estate; and Beauty died on the way. +The man who conducted the whole affair was--Ivan Mironov. He had +been employed on the estate, and knew all the whereabouts of Peter +Nikolaevich. He wanted to get back the money he had lost, and stole the +horses for that reason. + +After his misfortune with the forged coupon, Ivan Mironov took to drink; +and all he possessed would have gone on drink if it had not been for his +wife, who locked up his clothes, the horses' collars, and all the rest +of what he would otherwise have squandered in public-houses. In his +drunken state Ivan Mironov was continually thinking, not only of the man +who had wronged him, but of all the rich people who live on robbing +the poor. One day he had a drink with some peasants from the suburbs +of Podolsk, and was walking home together with them. On the way the +peasants, who were completely drunk, told him they had stolen a horse +from a peasant's cottage. Ivan Mironov got angry, and began to abuse the +horse-thieves. + +"What a shame!" he said. "A horse is like a brother to the peasant. And +you robbed him of it? It is a great sin, I tell you. If you go in for +stealing horses, steal them from the landowners. They are worse than +dogs, and deserve anything." + +The talk went on, and the peasants from Podolsk told him that it +required a great deal of cunning to steal a horse on an estate. + +"You must know all the ins and outs of the place, and must have somebody +on the spot to help you." + +Then it occurred to Ivan Mironov that he knew a landowner--Sventizky; +he had worked on his estate, and Sventizky, when paying him off, had +deducted one rouble and a half for a broken tool. He remembered well the +grey horses which he used to drive at Sventizky's. + +Ivan Mironov called on Peter Nikolaevich pretending to ask for +employment, but really in order to get the information he wanted. He +took precautions to make sure that the watchman was absent, and that +the horses were standing in their boxes in the stable. He brought the +thieves to the place, and helped them to carry off the three horses. + +They divided their gains, and Ivan Mironov returned to his wife with +five roubles in his pocket. He had nothing to do at home, having no +horse to work in the field, and therefore continued to steal horses in +company with professional horse-thieves and gipsies. + + +XI + +PETER NIKOLAEVICH SVENTIZKY did his best to discover who had stolen his +horses. He knew somebody on the estate must have helped the thieves, +and began to suspect all his staff. He inquired who had slept out that +night, and the gang of the working men told him Proshka had not been in +the whole night. Proshka, or Prokofy Nikolaevich, was a young fellow who +had just finished his military service, handsome, and skilful in all he +did; Peter Nikolaevich employed him at times as coachman. The district +constable was a friend of Peter Nikolaevich, as were the provincial +head of the police, the marshal of the nobility, and also the rural +councillor and the examining magistrate. They all came to his house +on his saint's day, drinking the cherry brandy he offered them with +pleasure, and eating the nice preserved mushrooms of all kinds to +accompany the liqueurs. They all sympathised with him in his trouble and +tried to help him. + +"You always used to take the side of the peasants," said the district +constable, "and there you are! I was right in saying they are worse than +wild beasts. Flogging is the only way to keep them in order. Well, +you say it is all Proshka's doings. Is it not he who was your coachman +sometimes?" + +"Yes, that is he." + +"Will you kindly call him?" + +Proshka was summoned before the constable, who began to examine him. + +"Where were you that night?" + +Proshka pushed back his hair, and his eyes sparkled. + +"At home." + +"How so? All the men say you were not in." + +"Just as you please, your honour." + +"My pleasure has nothing to do with the matter. Tell me where you were +that night." + +"At home." + +"Very well. Policeman, bring him to the police-station." + +The reason why Proshka did not say where he had been that night was that +he had spent it with his sweetheart, Parasha, and had promised not to +give her away. He kept his word. No proofs were discovered against him, +and he was soon discharged. But Peter Nikolaevich was convinced that +Prokofy had been at the bottom of the whole affair, and began to hate +him. One day Proshka bought as usual at the merchant's two measures of +oats. One and a half he gave to the horses, and half a measure he +gave back to the merchant; the money for it he spent in drink. Peter +Nikolaevich found it out, and charged Prokofy with cheating. The judge +sentenced the man to three months' imprisonment. + +Prokofy had a rather proud nature, and thought himself superior to +others. Prison was a great humiliation for him. He came out of it very +depressed; there was nothing more to be proud of in life. And more than +that, he felt extremely bitter, not only against Peter Nikolaevich, but +against the whole world. + +On the whole, as all the people around him noticed, Prokofy became +another man after his imprisonment, both careless and lazy; he took to +drink, and he was soon caught stealing clothes at some woman's house, +and found himself again in prison. + +All that Peter Nikolaevich discovered about his grey horses was the hide +of one of them, Beauty, which had been found somewhere on the estate. +The fact that the thieves had got off scot-free irritated Peter +Nikolaevich still more. He was unable now to speak of the peasants or +to look at them without anger. And whenever he could he tried to oppress +them. + + +XII + +AFTER having got rid of the coupon, Eugene Mihailovich forgot all about +it; but his wife, Maria Vassilievna, could not forgive herself for +having been taken in, nor yet her husband for his cruel words. And most +of all she was furious against the two boys who had so skilfully cheated +her. From the day she had accepted the forged coupon as payment, she +looked closely at all the schoolboys who came in her way in the streets. +One day she met Mahin, but did not recognise him, for on seeing her +he made a face which quite changed his features. But when, a fortnight +after the incident with the coupon, she met Mitia Smokovnikov face to +face, she knew him at once. + +She let him pass her, then turned back and followed him, and arriving +at his house she made inquiries as to whose son he was. The next day she +went to the school and met the divinity instructor, the priest Michael +Vedensky, in the hall. He asked her what she wanted. She answered that +she wished to see the head of the school. "He is not quite well," said +the priest. "Can I be of any use to you, or give him your message?" + +Maria Vassilievna thought that she might as well tell the priest what +was the matter. Michael Vedensky was a widower, and a very ambitious +man. A year ago he had met Mitia Smokovnikov's father in society, and +had had a discussion with him on religion. Smokovnikov had beaten +him decisively on all points; indeed, he had made him appear quite +ridiculous. Since that time the priest had decided to pay special +attention to Smokovnikov's son; and, finding him as indifferent to +religious matters as his father was, he began to persecute him, and even +brought about his failure in examinations. + +When Maria Vassilievna told him what young Smokovnikov had done to her, +Vedensky could not help feeling an inner satisfaction. He saw in the +boy's conduct a proof of the utter wickedness of those who are not +guided by the rules of the Church. He decided to take advantage of this +great opportunity of warning unbelievers of the perils that threatened +them. At all events, he wanted to persuade himself that this was the +only motive that guided him in the course he had resolved to take. But +at the bottom of his heart he was only anxious to get his revenge on the +proud atheist. + +"Yes, it is very sad indeed," said Father Michael, toying with the cross +he was wearing over his priestly robes, and passing his hands over its +polished sides. "I am very glad you have given me your confidence. As a +servant of the Church I shall admonish the young man--of course with the +utmost kindness. I shall certainly do it in the way that befits my holy +office," said Father Michael to himself, really thinking that he had +forgotten the ill-feeling the boy's father had towards him. He firmly +believed the boy's soul to be the only object of his pious care. + +The next day, during the divinity lesson which Father Michael was giving +to Mitia Smokovnikov's class, he narrated the incident of the forged +coupon, adding that the culprit had been one of the pupils of the +school. "It was a very wicked thing to do," he said; "but to deny the +crime is still worse. If it is true that the sin has been committed by +one of you, let the guilty one confess." In saying this, Father Michael +looked sharply at Mitia Smokovnikov. All the boys, following his glance, +turned also to Mitia, who blushed, and felt extremely ill at ease, with +large beads of perspiration on his face. Finally, he burst into tears, +and ran out of the classroom. His mother, noticing his trouble, found +out the truth, ran at once to the photographer's shop, paid over the +twelve roubles and fifty kopeks to Maria Vassilievna, and made her +promise to deny the boy's guilt. She further implored Mitia to hide the +truth from everybody, and in any case to withhold it from his father. + +Accordingly, when Fedor Mihailovich had heard of the incident in +the divinity class, and his son, questioned by him, had denied all +accusations, he called at once on the head of the school, told him what +had happened, expressed his indignation at Father Michael's conduct, and +said he would not let matters remain as they were. + +Father Michael was sent for, and immediately fell into a hot dispute +with Smokovnikov. + +"A stupid woman first falsely accused my son, then retracts her +accusation, and you of course could not hit on anything more sensible to +do than to slander an honest and truthful boy!" + +"I did not slander him, and I must beg you not to address me in such a +way. You forget what is due to my cloth." + +"Your cloth is of no consequence to me." + +"Your perversity in matters of religion is known to everybody in the +town!" replied Father Michael; and he was so transported with anger that +his long thin head quivered. + +"Gentlemen! Father Michael!" exclaimed the director of the school, +trying to appease their wrath. But they did not listen to him. + +"It is my duty as a priest to look after the religious and moral +education of our pupils." + +"Oh, cease your pretence to be religious! Oh, stop all this humbug +of religion! As if I did not know that you believe neither in God nor +Devil." + +"I consider it beneath my dignity to talk to a man like you," said +Father Michael, very much hurt by Smokovnikov's last words, the more so +because he knew they were true. + +Michael Vedensky carried on his studies in the academy for priests, +and that is why, for a long time past, he ceased to believe in what he +confessed to be his creed and in what he preached from the pulpit; he +only knew that men ought to force themselves to believe in what he tried +to make himself believe. + +Smokovnikov was not shocked by Father Michael's conduct; he only thought +it illustrative of the influence the Church was beginning to exercise +on society, and he told all his friends how his son had been insulted by +the priest. + +Seeing not only young minds, but also the elder generation, contaminated +by atheistic tendencies, Father Michael became more and more convinced +of the necessity of fighting those tendencies. The more he condemned the +unbelief of Smokovnikov, and those like him, the more confident he +grew in the firmness of his own faith, and the less he felt the need +of making sure of it, or of bringing his life into harmony with it. His +faith, acknowledged as such by all the world around him, became Father +Michael's very best weapon with which to fight those who denied it. + +The thoughts aroused in him by his conflict with Smokovnikov, together +with the annoyance of being blamed by his chiefs in the school, made him +carry out the purpose he had entertained ever since his wife's death--of +taking monastic orders, and of following the course carried out by some +of his fellow-pupils in the academy. One of them was already a bishop, +another an archimandrite and on the way to become a bishop. + +At the end of the term Michael Vedensky gave up his post in the school, +took orders under the name of Missael, and very soon got a post as +rector in a seminary in a town on the river Volga. + + +XIII + +MEANWHILE the yard-porter Vassily was marching on the open road down to +the south. + +He walked in daytime, and when night came some policeman would get +him shelter in a peasant's cottage. He was given bread everywhere, and +sometimes he was asked to sit down to the evening meal. In a village in +the Orel district, where he had stayed for the night, he heard that +a merchant who had hired the landowner's orchard for the season, +was looking out for strong and able men to serve as watchmen for the +fruit-crops. Vassily was tired of tramping, and as he had also no desire +whatever to go back to his native village, he went to the man who owned +the orchard, and got engaged as watchman for five roubles a month. + +Vassily found it very agreeable to live in his orchard shed, and all the +more so when the apples and pears began to grow ripe, and when the men +from the barn supplied him every day with large bundles of fresh straw +from the threshing machine. He used to lie the whole day long on the +fragrant straw, with fresh, delicately smelling apples in heaps at his +side, looking out in every direction to prevent the village boys from +stealing fruit; and he used to whistle and sing meanwhile, to amuse +himself. He knew no end of songs, and had a fine voice. When peasant +women and young girls came to ask for apples, and to have a chat with +him, Vassily gave them larger or smaller apples according as he liked +their looks, and received eggs or money in return. The rest of the time +he had nothing to do, but to lie on his back and get up for his meals +in the kitchen. He had only one shirt left, one of pink cotton, and that +was in holes. But he was strongly built and enjoyed excellent health. +When the kettle with black gruel was taken from the stove and served to +the working men, Vassily used to eat enough for three, and filled the +old watchman on the estate with unceasing wonder. At nights Vassily +never slept. He whistled or shouted from time to time to keep off +thieves, and his piercing, cat-like eyes saw clearly in the darkness. + +One night a company of young lads from the village made their way +stealthily to the orchard to shake down apples from the trees. Vassily, +coming noiselessly from behind, attacked them; they tried to escape, but +he took one of them prisoner to his master. + +Vassily's first shed stood at the farthest end of the orchard, but after +the pears had been picked he had to remove to another shed only forty +paces away from the house of his master. He liked this new place very +much. The whole day long he could see the young ladies and gentlemen +enjoying themselves; going out for drives in the evenings and quite late +at nights, playing the piano or the violin, and singing and dancing. +He saw the ladies sitting with the young students on the window sills, +engaged in animated conversation, and then going in pairs to walk the +dark avenue of lime trees, lit up only by streaks of moonlight. He saw +the servants running about with food and drink, he saw the cooks, the +stewards, the laundresses, the gardeners, the coachmen, hard at work +to supply their masters with food and drink and constant amusement. +Sometimes the young people from the master's house came to the shed, +and Vassily offered them the choicest apples, juicy and red. The young +ladies used to take large bites out of the apples on the spot, praising +their taste, and spoke French to one another--Vassily quite understood +it was all about him--and asked Vassily to sing for them. + +Vassily felt the greatest admiration for his master's mode of living, +which reminded him of what he had seen in Moscow; and he became more and +more convinced that the only thing that mattered in life was money. +He thought and thought how to get hold of a large sum of money. He +remembered his former ways of making small profits whenever he could, +and came to the conclusion that that was altogether wrong. Occasional +stealing is of no use, he thought. He must arrange a well-prepared plan, +and after getting all the information he wanted, carry out his purpose +so as to avoid detection. + +After the feast of Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the last crop +of autumn apples was gathered; the master was content with the results, +paid off Vassily, and gave him an extra sum as reward for his faithful +service. + +Vassily put on his new jacket, and a new hat--both were presents from +his master's son--but did not make his way homewards. He hated the very +thought of the vulgar peasants' life. He went back to Moscow in company +of some drunken soldiers, who had been watchmen in the orchard together +with him. On his arrival there he at once resolved, under cover of +night, to break into the shop where he had been employed, and beaten, +and then turned out by the proprietor without being paid. He knew the +place well, and knew where the money was locked up. So he bade the +soldiers, who helped him, keep watch outside, and forcing the courtyard +door entered the shop and took all the money he could lay his hands on. +All this was done very cleverly, and no trace was left of the burglary. +The money Vassily had found in the shop amounted to 370 roubles. He gave +a hundred roubles to his assistants, and with the rest left for another +town where he gave way to dissipation in company of friends of both +sexes. The police traced his movements, and when at last he was arrested +and put into prison he had hardly anything left out of the money which +he had stolen. + + +XIV + +IVAN MIRONOV had become a very clever, fearless and successful +horse-thief. Afimia, his wife, who at first used to abuse him for his +evil ways, as she called it, was now quite content and felt proud of her +husband, who possessed a new sheepskin coat, while she also had a warm +jacket and a new fur cloak. + +In the village and throughout the whole district every one knew quite +well that Ivan Mironov was at the bottom of all the horse-stealing; but +nobody would give him away, being afraid of the consequences. Whenever +suspicion fell on him, he managed to clear his character. Once during +the night he stole horses from the pasture ground in the village +Kolotovka. He generally preferred to steal horses from landowners or +tradespeople. But this was a harder job, and when he had no chance of +success he did not mind robbing peasants too. In Kolotovka he drove off +the horses without making sure whose they were. He did not go himself +to the spot, but sent a young and clever fellow, Gerassim, to do the +stealing for him. The peasants only got to know of the theft at dawn; +they rushed in all directions to hunt for the robbers. The horses, +meanwhile, were hidden in a ravine in the forest lands belonging to the +state. + +Ivan Mironov intended to leave them there till the following night, and +then to transport them with the utmost haste a hundred miles away to +a man he knew. He visited Gerassim in the forest, to see how he was +getting on, brought him a pie and some vodka, and was returning home +by a side track in the forest where he hoped to meet nobody. But by +ill-luck, he chanced on the keeper of the forest, a retired soldier. + +"I say! Have you been looking for mushrooms?" asked the soldier. + +"There were none to be found," answered Ivan Mironov, showing the basket +of lime bark he had taken with him in case he might want it. + +"Yes, mushrooms are scarce this summer," said the soldier. He stood +still for a moment, pondered, and then went his way. He clearly saw that +something was wrong. Ivan Mironov had no business whatever to take early +morning walks in that forest. The soldier went back after a while and +looked round. Suddenly he heard the snorting of horses in the ravine. He +made his way cautiously to the place whence the sounds came. The grass +in the ravine was trodden down, and the marks of horses' hoofs were +clearly to be seen. A little further he saw Gerassim, who was sitting +and eating his meal, and the horses tied to a tree. + +The soldier ran to the village and brought back the bailiff, a police +officer, and two witnesses. They surrounded on three sides the spot +where Gerassim was sitting and seized the man. He did not deny anything; +but, being drunk, told them at once how Ivan Mironov had given him +plenty of drink, and induced him to steal the horses; he also said that +Ivan Mironov had promised to come that night in order to take the horses +away. The peasants left the horses and Gerassim in the ravine, and +hiding behind the trees prepared to lie in ambush for Ivan Mironov. When +it grew dark, they heard a whistle. Gerassim answered it with a similar +sound. The moment Ivan Mironov descended the slope, the peasants +surrounded him and brought him back to the village. The next morning +a crowd assembled in front of the bailiff's cottage. Ivan Mironov was +brought out and subjected to a close examination. Stepan Pelageushkine, +a tall, stooping man with long arms, an aquiline nose, and a gloomy +face was the first to put questions to him. Stepan had terminated +his military service, and was of a solitary turn of mind. When he had +separated from his father, and started his own home, he had his first +experience of losing a horse. After that he worked for two years in +the mines, and made money enough to buy two horses. These two had been +stolen by Ivan Mironov. + +"Tell me where my horses are!" shouted Stepan, pale with fury, +alternately looking at the ground and at Ivan Mironov's face. + +Ivan Mironov denied his guilt. Then Stepan aimed so violent a blow at +his face that he smashed his nose and the blood spurted out. + +"Tell the truth, I say, or I'll kill you!" + +Ivan Mironov kept silent, trying to avoid the blows by stooping. Stepan +hit him twice more with his long arm. Ivan Mironov remained silent, +turning his head backwards and forwards. + +"Beat him, all of you!" cried the bailiff, and the whole crowd rushed +upon Ivan Mironov. He fell without a word to the ground, and then +shouted,--"Devils, wild beasts, kill me if that's what you want! I am +not afraid of you!" + +Stepan seized a stone out of those that had been collected for the +purpose, and with a heavy blow smashed Ivan Mironov's head. + + +XV + +IVAN MIRONOV'S murderers were brought to trial, Stepan Pelageushkine +among them. He had a heavier charge to answer than the others, all the +witnesses having stated that it was he who had smashed Ivan Mironov's +head with a stone. Stepan concealed nothing when in court. He contented +himself with explaining that, having been robbed of his two last horses, +he had informed the police. Now it was comparatively easy at that time +to trace the horses with the help of professional thieves among the +gipsies. But the police officer would not even permit him, and no search +had been ordered. + +"Nothing else could be done with such a man. He has ruined us all." + +"But why did not the others attack him. It was you alone who broke his +head open." + +"That is false. We all fell upon him. The village agreed to kill him. +I only gave the final stroke. What is the use of inflicting unnecessary +sufferings on a man?" + +The judges were astonished at Stepan's wonderful coolness in narrating +the story of his crime--how the peasants fell upon Ivan Mironov, and +how he had given the final stroke. Stepan actually did not see anything +particularly revolting in this murder. During his military service +he had been ordered on one occasion to shoot a soldier, and, now with +regard to Ivan Mironov, he saw nothing loathsome in it. "A man shot is +a dead man--that's all. It was him to-day, it might be me to-morrow," he +thought. Stepan was only sentenced to one year's imprisonment, which was +a mild punishment for what he had done. His peasant's dress was taken +away from him and put in the prison stores, and he had a prison suit and +felt boots given to him instead. Stepan had never had much respect for +the authorities, but now he became quite convinced that all the chiefs, +all the fine folk, all except the Czar--who alone had pity on the +peasants and was just--all were robbers who suck blood out of the +people. All he heard from the deported convicts, and those sentenced to +hard labour, with whom he had made friends in prisons, confirmed him +in his views. One man had been sentenced to hard labour for having +convicted his superiors of a theft; another for having struck an +official who had unjustly confiscated the property of a peasant; a third +because he forged bank notes. The well-to-do-people, the merchants, +might do whatever they chose and come to no harm; but a poor peasant, +for a trumpery reason or for none at all, was sent to prison to become +food for vermin. + +He had visits from his wife while in prison. Her life without him was +miserable enough, when, to make it worse, her cottage was destroyed by +fire. She was completely ruined, and had to take to begging with her +children. His wife's misery embittered Stepan still more. He got on very +badly with all the people in the prison; was rude to every one; and +one day he nearly killed the cook with an axe, and therefore got an +additional year in prison. In the course of that year he received the +news that his wife was dead, and that he had no longer a home. + +When Stepan had finished his time in prison, he was taken to the prison +stores, and his own dress was taken down from the shelf and handed to +him. + +"Where am I to go now?" he asked the prison officer, putting on his old +dress. + +"Why, home." + +"I have no home. I shall have to go on the road. Robbery will not be a +pleasant occupation." + +"In that case you will soon be back here." + +"I am not so sure of that." + +And Stepan left the prison. Nevertheless he took the road to his own +place. He had nowhere else to turn. + +On his way he stopped for a night's rest in an inn that had a public bar +attached to it. The inn was kept by a fat man from the town, Vladimir, +and he knew Stepan. He knew that Stepan had been put into prison through +ill luck, and did not mind giving him shelter for the night. He was a +rich man, and had persuaded his neighbour's wife to leave her husband +and come to live with him. She lived in his house as his wife, and +helped him in his business as well. + +Stepan knew all about the innkeeper's affairs--how he had wronged the +peasant, and how the woman who was living with him had left her husband. +He saw her now sitting at the table in a rich dress, and looking very +hot as she drank her tea. With great condescension she asked Stepan to +have tea with her. No other travellers were stopping in the inn that +night. Stepan was given a place in the kitchen where he might sleep. +Matrena--that was the woman's name--cleared the table and went to her +room. Stepan went to lie down on the large stove in the kitchen, but +he could not sleep, and the wood splinters put on the stove to dry were +crackling under him, as he tossed from side to side. He could not help +thinking of his host's fat paunch protruding under the belt of his +shirt, which had lost its colour from having been washed ever so many +times. Would not it be a good thing to make a good clean incision in +that paunch. And that woman, too, he thought. + +One moment he would say to himself, "I had better go from here +to-morrow, bother them all!" But then again Ivan Mironov came back +to his mind, and he went on thinking of the innkeeper's paunch and +Matrena's white throat bathed in perspiration. "Kill I must, and it must +be both!" + +He heard the cock crow for the second time. + +"I must do it at once, or dawn will be here." He had seen in the evening +before he went to bed a knife and an axe. He crawled down from the +stove, took the knife and axe, and went out of the kitchen door. At that +very moment he heard the lock of the entrance door open. The innkeeper +was going out of the house to the courtyard. It all turned out contrary +to what Stepan desired. He had no opportunity of using the knife; +he just swung the axe and split the innkeeper's head in two. The man +tumbled down on the threshold of the door, then on the ground. + +Stepan stepped into the bedroom. Matrena jumped out of bed, and remained +standing by its side. With the same axe Stepan killed her also. + +Then he lighted the candle, took the money out of the desk, and left the +house. + + +XVI + +IN a small district town, some distance away from the other buildings, +an old man, a former official, who had taken to drink, lived in his own +house with his two daughters and his son-in-law. The married daughter +was also addicted to drink and led a bad life, and it was the elder +daughter, the widow Maria Semenovna, a wrinkled woman of fifty, who +supported the whole family. She had a pension of two hundred and fifty +roubles a year, and the family lived on this. Maria Semenovna did all +the work in the house, looked after the drunken old father, who was very +weak, attended to her sister's child, and managed all the cooking and +the washing of the family. And, as is always the case, whatever there +was to do, she was expected to do it, and was, moreover, continually +scolded by all the three people in the house; her brother-in-law used +even to beat her when he was drunk. She bore it all patiently, and as +is also always the case, the more work she had to face, the quicker +she managed to get through it. She helped the poor, sacrificing her own +wants; she gave them her clothes, and was a ministering angel to the +sick. + +Once the lame, crippled village tailor was working in Maria Semenovna's +house. He had to mend her old father's coat, and to mend and repair +Maria Semenovna's fur-jacket for her to wear in winter when she went to +market. + +The lame tailor was a clever man, and a keen observer: he had seen many +different people owing to his profession, and was fond of reflection, +condemned as he was to a sedentary life. + +Having worked a week at Maria Semenovna's, he wondered greatly about +her life. One day she came to the kitchen, where he was sitting with his +work, to wash a towel, and began to ask him how he was getting on. He +told her of the wrong he had suffered from his brother, and how he now +lived on his own allotment of land, separated from that of his brother. + +"I thought I should have been better off that way," he said. "But I am +now just as poor as before." + +"It is much better never to change, but to take life as it comes," said +Maria Semenovna. "Take life as it comes," she repeated. + +"Why, I wonder at you, Maria Semenovna," said the lame tailor. "You +alone do the work, and you are so good to everybody. But they don't +repay you in kind, I see." + +Maria Semenovna did not utter a word in answer. + +"I dare say you have found out in books that we are rewarded in heaven +for the good we do here." + +"We don't know that. But we must try to do the best we can." + +"Is it said so in books?" + +"In books as well," she said, and read to him the Sermon on the Mount. +The tailor was much impressed. When he had been paid for his job and +gone home, he did not cease to think about Maria Semenovna, both what +she had said and what she had read to him. + + +XVII + +PETER NIKOLAEVICH SVENTIZKY'S views of the peasantry had now changed for +the worse, and the peasants had an equally bad opinion of him. In the +course of a single year they felled twenty-seven oaks in his forest, and +burnt a barn which had not been insured. Peter Nikolaevich came to the +conclusion that there was no getting on with the people around him. + +At that very time the landowner, Liventsov, was trying to find a manager +for his estate, and the Marshal of the Nobility recommended Peter +Nikolaevich as the ablest man in the district in the management of land. +The estate owned by Liventsov was an extremely large one, but there was +no revenue to be got out of it, as the peasants appropriated all +its wealth to their own profit. Peter Nikolaevich undertook to bring +everything into order; rented out his own land to somebody else; and +settled with his wife on the Liventsov estate, in a distant province on +the river Volga. + +Peter Nikolaevich was always fond of order, and wanted things to be +regulated by law; and now he felt less able of allowing those raw and +rude peasants to take possession, quite illegally too, of property that +did not belong to them. He was glad of the opportunity of giving them a +good lesson, and set seriously to work at once. One peasant was sent to +prison for stealing wood; to another he gave a thrashing for not having +made way for him on the road with his cart, and for not having lifted +his cap to salute him. As to the pasture ground which was a subject of +dispute, and was considered by the peasants as their property, Peter +Nikolaevich informed the peasants that any of their cattle grazing on it +would be driven away by him. + +The spring came and the peasants, just as they had done in previous +years, drove their cattle on to the meadows belonging to the landowner. +Peter Nikolaevich called some of the men working on the estate and +ordered them to drive the cattle into his yard. The peasants were +working in the fields, and, disregarding the screaming of the women, +Peter Nikolaevich's men succeeded in driving in the cattle. When they +came home the peasants went in a crowd to the cattle-yard on the estate, +and asked for their cattle. Peter Nikolaevich came out to talk to them +with a gun slung on his shoulder; he had just returned from a ride of +inspection. He told them that he would not let them have their cattle +unless they paid a fine of fifty kopeks for each of the horned cattle, +and twenty kopeks for each sheep. The peasants loudly declared that +the pasture ground was their property, because their fathers and +grandfathers had used it, and protested that he had no right whatever to +lay hand on their cattle. + +"Give back our cattle, or you will regret it," said an old man coming up +to Peter Nikolaevich. + +"How shall I regret it?" cried Peter Nikolaevich, turning pale, and +coming close to the old man. + +"Give them back, you villain, and don't provoke us." + +"What?" cried Peter Nikolaevich, and slapped the old man in the face. + +"You dare to strike me? Come along, you fellows, let us take back our +cattle by force." + +The crowd drew close to him. Peter Nikolaevich tried to push his way, +through them, but the peasants resisted him. Again he tried force. + +His gun, accidentally discharged in the melee, killed one of the +peasants. Instantly the fight began. Peter Nikolaevich was trodden down, +and five minutes later his mutilated body was dragged into the ravine. + +The murderers were tried by martial law, and two of them sentenced to +the gallows. + + +XVIII + +IN the village where the lame tailor lived, in the Zemliansk district +of the Voronesh province, five rich peasants hired from the landowner a +hundred and five acres of rich arable land, black as tar, and let it out +on lease to the rest of the peasants at fifteen to eighteen roubles +an acre. Not one acre was given under twelve roubles. They got a very +profitable return, and the five acres which were left to each of their +company practically cost them nothing. One of the five peasants died, +and the lame tailor received an offer to take his place. + +When they began to divide the land, the tailor gave up drinking vodka, +and, being consulted as to how much land was to be divided, and to +whom it should be given, he proposed to give allotments to all on equal +terms, not taking from the tenants more than was due for each piece of +land out of the sum paid to the landowner. + +"Why so?" + +"We are no heathens, I should think," he said. "It is all very well for +the masters to be unfair, but we are true Christians. We must do as God +bids. Such is the law of Christ." + +"Where have you got that law from? + +"It is in the Book, in the Gospels; just come to me on Sunday, I will +read you a few passages, and we will have a talk afterwards." + +They did not all come to him on Sunday, but three came, and he began +reading to them. + +He read five chapters of St. Matthew's Gospel, and they talked. One man +only, Ivan Chouev, accepted the lesson and carried it out completely, +following the rule of Christ in everything from that day. His family +did the same. Out of the arable land he took only what was his due, and +refused to take more. + +The lame tailor and Ivan had people calling on them, and some of these +people began to grasp the meaning of the Gospels, and in consequence +gave up smoking, drinking, swearing, and using bad language and tried to +help one another. They also ceased to go to church, and took their +ikons to the village priest, saying they did not want them any more. The +priest was frightened, and reported what had occurred to the bishop. +The bishop was at a loss what to do. At last he resolved to send the +archimandrite Missael to the village, the one who had formerly been +Mitia Smokovnikov's teacher of religion. + + +XIX + +ASKING Father Missael on his arrival to take a seat, the bishop told him +what had happened in his diocese. + +"It all comes from weakness of spirit and from ignorance. You are a +learned man, and I rely on you. Go to the village, call the parishioners +together, and convince them of their error." + +"If your Grace bids me go, and you give me your blessing, I will do my +best," said Father Missael. He was very pleased with the task entrusted +to him. Every opportunity he could find to demonstrate the firmness of +his faith was a boon to him. In trying to convince others he was chiefly +intent on persuading himself that he was really a firm believer. + +"Do your best. I am greatly distressed about my flock," said the bishop, +leisurely taking a cup with his white plump hands from the servant who +brought in the tea. + +"Why is there only one kind of jam? Bring another," he said to the +servant. "I am greatly distressed," he went on, turning to Father +Missael. + +Missael earnestly desired to prove his zeal; but, being a man of small +means, he asked to be paid for the expenses of his journey; and being +afraid of the rough people who might be ill-dis-posed towards him, +he also asked the bishop to get him an order from the governor of the +province, so that the local police might help him in case of need. The +bishop complied with his wishes, and Missael got his things ready with +the help of his servant and his cook. They furnished him with a case +full of wine, and a basket with the victuals he might need in going to +such a lonely place. Fully provided with all he wanted, he started for +the village to which he was commissioned. He was pleasantly conscious of +the importance of his mission. All his doubts as to his own faith passed +away, and he was now fully convinced of its reality. + +His thoughts, far from being concerned with the real foundation of his +creed--this was accepted as an axiom--were occupied with the arguments +used against the forms of worship. + + +XX + +THE village priest and his wife received Father Missael with great +honours, and the next day after he had arrived the parishioners were +invited to assemble in the church. Missael in a new silk cassock, with +a large cross on his chest, and his long hair carefully combed, ascended +the pulpit; the priest stood at his side, the deacons and the choir at +a little distance behind him, and the side entrances were guarded by the +police. The dissenters also came in their dirty sheepskin coats. + +After the service Missael delivered a sermon, admonishing the dissenters +to return to the bosom of their mother, the Church, threatening them +with the torments of hell, and promising full forgiveness to those who +would repent. + +The dissenters kept silent at first. Then, being asked questions, they +gave answers. To the question why they dissented, they said that their +chief reason was the fact that the Church worshipped gods made of wood, +which, far from being ordained, were condemned by the Scriptures. + +When asked by Missael whether they actually considered the holy ikons to +be mere planks of wood, Chouev answered,--"Just look at the back of any +ikon you choose and you will see what they are made of." + +When asked why they turned against the priests, their answer was that +the Scripture says: "As you have received it without fee, so you must +give it to the others; whereas the priests require payment for the grace +they bestow by the sacraments." To all attempts which Missael made +to oppose them by arguments founded on Holy Writ, the tailor and Ivan +Chouev gave calm but very firm answers, contradicting his assertions by +appeal to the Scriptures, which they knew uncommonly well. + +Missael got angry and threatened them with persecution by the +authorities. Their answer was: It is said, I have been persecuted and so +will you be. + +The discussion came to nothing, and all would have ended well if Missael +had not preached the next day at mass, denouncing the wicked seducers of +the faithful and saying that they deserved the worst punishment. Coming +out of the church, the crowd of peasants began to consult whether it +would not be well to give the infidels a good lesson for disturbing the +minds of the community. The same day, just when Missael was enjoying +some salmon and gangfish, dining at the village priest's in company with +the inspector, a violent brawl arose in the village. The peasants came +in a crowd to Chouev's cottage, and waited for the dissenters to come +out in order to give them a thrashing. + +The dissenters assembled in the cottage numbered about twenty men and +women. Missael's sermon and the attitude of the orthodox peasants, +together with their threats, aroused in the mind of the dissenters angry +feelings, to which they had before been strangers. It was near evening, +the women had to go and milk the cows, and the peasants were still +standing and waiting at the door. + +A boy who stepped out of the door was beaten and driven back into the +house. The people within began consulting what was to be done, and could +come to no agreement. The tailor said, "We must bear whatever is done to +us, and not resist." Chouev replied that if they decided on that course +they would, all of them, be beaten to death. In consequence, he seized +a poker and went out of the house. "Come!" he shouted, "let us follow the +law of Moses!" And, falling upon the peasants, he knocked out one man's +eye, and in the meanwhile all those who had been in his house contrived +to get out and make their way home. + +Chouev was thrown into prison and charged with sedition and blasphemy. + + +XXI + +Two years previous to those events a strong and handsome young girl +of an eastern type, Katia Turchaninova, came from the Don military +settlements to St. Petersburg to study in the university college for +women. In that town she met a student, Turin, the son of a district +governor in the Simbirsk province, and fell in love with him. But her +love was not of the ordinary type, and she had no desire to become his +wife and the mother of his children. He was a dear comrade to her, and +their chief bond of union was a feeling of revolt they had in common, +as well as the hatred they bore, not only to the existing forms of +government, but to all those who represented that government. They +had also in common the sense that they both excelled their enemies +in culture, in brains, as well as in morals. Katia Turchaninova was a +gifted girl, possessed of a good memory, by means of which she +easily mastered the lectures she attended. She was successful in her +examinations, and, apart from that, read all the newest books. She was +certain that her vocation was not to bear and rear children, and even +looked on such a task with disgust and contempt. She thought herself +chosen by destiny to destroy the present government, which was fettering +the best abilities of the nation, and to reveal to the people a higher +standard of life, inculcated by the latest writers of other countries. +She was handsome, a little inclined to stoutness: she had a good +complexion, shining black eyes, abundant black hair. She inspired the +men she knew with feelings she neither wished nor had time to share, +busy as she was with propaganda work, which consisted chiefly in mere +talking. She was not displeased, however, to inspire these feelings; +and, without dressing too smartly, did not neglect her appearance. She +liked to be admired, as it gave her opportunities of showing how little +she prized what was valued so highly by other women. + +In her views concerning the method of fighting the government she went +further than the majority of her comrades, and than her friend Turin; +all means, she taught, were justified in such a struggle, not excluding +murder. And yet, with all her revolutionary ideas, Katia Turchaninova +was in her soul a very kind girl, ready to sacrifice herself for the +welfare and the happiness of other people, and sincerely pleased when +she could do a kindness to anybody, a child, an old person, or an +animal. + +She went in the summer to stay with a friend, a schoolmistress in +a small town on the river Volga. Turin lived near that town, on his +father's estate. He often came to see the two girls; they gave each +other books to read, and had long discussions, expressing their common +indignation with the state of affairs in the country. The district +doctor, a friend of theirs, used also to join them on many occasions. + +The estate of the Turins was situated in the neighbourhood of the +Liventsov estate, the one that was entrusted to the management of Peter +Nikolaevich Sventizky. Soon after Peter Nikolaevich had settled there, +and begun to enforce order, young Turin, having observed an independent +tendency in the peasants on the Liventsov estate, as well as their +determination to uphold their rights, became interested in them. He came +often to the village to talk with the men, and developed his socialistic +theories, insisting particularly on the nationalisation of the land. + +After Peter Nikolaevich had been murdered, and the murderers sent +to trial, the revolutionary group of the small town boiled over with +indignation, and did not shrink from openly expressing it. The fact +of Turin's visits to the village and his propaganda work among the +students, became known to the authorities during the trial. A search was +made in his house; and, as the police found a few revolutionary leaflets +among his effects, he was arrested and transferred to prison in St. +Petersburg. + +Katia Turchaninova followed him to the metropolis, and went to visit +him in prison. She was not admitted on the day she came, and was told to +come on the day fixed by regulations for visits to the prisoners. When +that day arrived, and she was finally allowed to see him, she had +to talk to him through two gratings separating the prisoner from his +visitor. This visit increased her indignation against the authorities. +And her feelings become all the more revolutionary after a visit she +paid to the office of a gendarme officer who had to deal with the Turin +case. The officer, a handsome man, seemed obviously disposed to grant +her exceptional favours in visiting the prisoner, if she would allow him +to make love to her. Disgusted with him, she appealed to the chief of +police. He pretended--just as the officer did when talking officially +to her--to be powerless himself, and to depend entirely on orders coming +from the minister of state. She sent a petition to the minister asking +for an interview, which was refused. + +Then she resolved to do a desperate thing and bought a revolver. + + +XXII + +THE minister was receiving petitioners at the usual hour appointed for +the reception. He had talked successively to three of them, and now a +pretty young woman with black eyes, who was holding a petition in her +left hand, approached. The minister's eyes gleamed when he saw how +attractive the petitioner was, but recollecting his high position he put +on a serious face. + +"What do you want?" he asked, coming down to where she stood. Without +answering his question the young woman quickly drew a revolver from +under her cloak and aiming it at the minister's chest fired--but missed +him. + +The minister rushed at her, trying to seize her hand, but she escaped, +and taking a step back, fired a second time. The minister ran out of the +room. The woman was immediately seized. She was trembling violently, and +could not utter a single word; after a while she suddenly burst into a +hysterical laugh. The minister was not even wounded. + +That woman was Katia Turchaninova. She was put into the prison of +preliminary detention. The minister received congratulations and +marks of sympathy from the highest quarters, and even from the emperor +himself, who appointed a commission to investigate the plot that had led +to the attempted assassination. As a matter of fact there was no plot +whatever, but the police officials and the detectives set to work +with the utmost zeal to discover all the threads of the non-existing +conspiracy. They did everything to deserve the fees they were paid; +they got up in the small hours of the morning, searched one house after +another, took copies of papers and of books they found, read diaries, +personal letters, made extracts from them on the very best notepaper and +in beautiful handwriting, interrogated Katia Turchaninova ever so +many times, and confronted her with all those whom they suspected of +conspiracy, in order to extort from her the names of her accomplices. + +The minister, a good-natured man at heart, was sincerely sorry for the +pretty girl. But he said to himself that he was bound to consider his +high state duties imposed upon him, even though they did not imply much +work and trouble. So, when his former colleague, a chamberlain and a +friend of the Turins, met him at a court ball and tried to rouse his +pity for Turin and the girl Turchaninova, he shrugged his shoulders, +stretching the red ribbon on his white waistcoat, and said: "Je ne +demanderais pas mieux que de relacher cette pauvre fillette, mais vous +savez le devoir." And in the meantime Katia Turchaninova was kept +in prison. She was at times in a quiet mood, communicated with her +fellow-prisoners by knocking on the walls, and read the books that were +sent to her. But then came days when she had fits of desperate fury, +knocking with her fists against the wall, screaming and laughing like a +mad-woman. + + +XXIII + +ONE day Maria Semenovna came home from the treasurer's office, where she +had received her pension. On her way she met a schoolmaster, a friend of +hers. + +"Good day, Maria Semenovna! Have you received your money?" the +schoolmaster asked, in a loud voice from the other side of the street. + +"I have," answered Maria Semenovna. "But it was not much; just enough to +fill the holes." + +"Oh, there must be some tidy pickings out of such a lot of money," said +the schoolmaster, and passed on, after having said good-bye. + +"Good-bye," said Maria Semenovna. While she was looking at her friend, +she met a tall man face to face, who had very long arms and a stern look +in his eyes. Coming to her house, she was very startled on again seeing +the same man with the long arms, who had evidently followed her. He +remained standing another moment after she had gone in, then turned and +walked away. + +Maria Semenovna felt somewhat frightened at first. But when she had +entered the house, and had given her father and her nephew Fedia the +presents she had brought for them, and she had patted the dog Treasure, +who whined with joy, she forgot her fears. She gave the money to her +father and began to work, as there was always plenty for her to do. + +The man she met face to face was Stepan. + +After he had killed the innkeeper, he did not return to town. Strange to +say, he was not sorry to have committed that murder. His mind went back +to the murdered man over and over again during the following day; and +he liked the recollection of having done the thing so skilfully, so +cleverly, that nobody-would ever discover it, and he would not therefore +be prevented from murdering other people in the same way. Sitting in the +public-house and having his tea, he looked at the people around him with +the same thought how he should murder them. In the evening he called at +a carter's, a man from his village, to spend the night at his house. The +carter was not in. He said he would wait for him, and in the meanwhile +began talking to the carter's wife. But when she moved to the stove, +with her back turned to him, the idea entered his mind to kill her. He +marvelled at himself at first, and shook his head; but the next moment +he seized the knife he had hidden in his boot, knocked the woman down +on the floor, and cut her throat. When the children began to scream, he +killed them also and went away. He did not look out for another place to +spend the night, but at once left the town. In a village some distance +away he went to the inn and slept there. The next day he returned to the +district town, and there he overheard in the street Maria Semenovna's +talk with the schoolmaster. Her look frightened him, but yet he made +up his mind to creep into her house, and rob her of the money she had +received. When the night came he broke the lock and entered the house. +The first person who heard his steps was the younger daughter, the +married one. She screamed. Stepan stabbed her immediately with his +knife. Her husband woke up and fell upon Stepan, seized him by his +throat, and struggled with him desperately. But Stepan was the stronger +man and overpowered him. After murdering him, Stepan, excited by the +long fight, stepped into the next room behind a partition. That was +Maria Semenovna's bedroom. She rose in her bed, looked at Stepan with +her mild frightened eyes, and crossed herself. + +Once more her look scared Stepan. He dropped his eyes. + +"Where is your money?" he asked, without raising his face. + +She did not answer. + +"Where is the money?" asked Stepan again, showing her his knife. + +"How can you . . ." she said. + +"You will see how." + +Stepan came close to her, in order to seize her hands and prevent her +struggling with him, but she did not even try to lift her arms or offer +any resistance; she pressed her hands to her chest, and sighed heavily. + +"Oh, what a great sin!" she cried. "How can you! Have mercy on yourself. +To destroy somebody's soul . . . and worse, your own! . . ." + +Stepan could not stand her voice any longer, and drew his knife sharply +across her throat. "Stop that talk!" he said. She fell back with a +hoarse cry, and the pillow was stained with blood. He turned away, and +went round the rooms in order to collect all he thought worth taking. +Having made a bundle of the most valuable things, he lighted a +cigarette, sat down for a while, brushed his clothes, and left the +house. He thought this murder would not matter to him more than those +he had committed before; but before he got a night's lodging, he felt +suddenly so exhausted that he could not walk any farther. He stepped +down into the gutter and remained lying there the rest of the night, and +the next day and the next night. + + + + +PART SECOND + + +I + +THE whole time he was lying in the gutter Stepan saw continually before +his eyes the thin, kindly, and frightened face of Maria Semenovna, +and seemed to hear her voice. "How can you?" she went on saying in his +imagination, with her peculiar lisping voice. Stepan saw over again +and over again before him all he had done to her. In horror he shut +his eyes, and shook his hairy head, to drive away these thoughts and +recollections. For a moment he would get rid of them, but in their +place horrid black faces with red eyes appeared and frightened him +continuously. They grinned at him, and kept repeating, "Now you have +done away with her you must do away with yourself, or we will not leave +you alone." He opened his eyes, and again he saw HER and heard her +voice; and felt an immense pity for her and a deep horror and +disgust with himself. Once more he shut his eyes, and the black faces +reappeared. Towards the evening of the next day he rose and went, with +hardly any strength left, to a public-house. There he ordered a drink, +and repeated his demands over and over again, but no quantity of liquor +could make him intoxicated. He was sitting at a table, and swallowed +silently one glass after another. + +A police officer came in. "Who are you?" he asked Stepan. + +"I am the man who murdered all the Dobrotvorov people last night," he +answered. + +He was arrested, bound with ropes, and brought to the nearest +police-station; the next day he was transferred to the prison in the +town. The inspector of the prison recognised him as an old inmate, and a +very turbulent one; and, hearing that he had now become a real criminal, +accosted him very harshly. + +"You had better be quiet here," he said in a hoarse voice, frowning, and +protruding his lower jaw. "The moment you don't behave, I'll flog you to +death! Don't try to escape--I will see to that!" + +"I have no desire to escape," said Stepan, dropping his eyes. "I +surrendered of my own free will." + +"Shut up! You must look straight into your superior's eyes when you talk +to him," cried the inspector, and struck Stepan with his fist under the +jaw. + +At that moment Stepan again saw the murdered woman before him, and +heard her voice; he did not pay attention, therefore, to the inspector's +words. + +"What?" he asked, coming to his senses when he felt the blow on his +face. + +"Be off! Don't pretend you don't hear." + +The inspector expected Stepan to be violent, to talk to the other +prisoners, to make attempts to escape from prison. But nothing of the +kind ever happened. Whenever the guard or the inspector himself looked +into his cell through the hole in the door, they saw Stepan sitting on a +bag filled with straw, holding his head with his hands and whispering to +himself. On being brought before the examining magistrate charged with +the inquiry into his case, he did not behave like an ordinary convict. +He was very absent-minded, hardly listening to the questions; but when +he heard what was asked, he answered truthfully, causing the utmost +perplexity to the magistrate, who, accustomed as he was to the necessity +of being very clever and very cunning with convicts, felt a strange +sensation just as if he were lifting up his foot to ascend a step and +found none. Stepan told him the story of all his murders; and did it +frowning, with a set look, in a quiet, businesslike voice, trying to +recollect all the circumstances of his crimes. "He stepped out of the +house," said Stepan, telling the tale of his first murder, "and stood +barefooted at the door; I hit him, and he just groaned; I went to his +wife, . . ." And so on. + +One day the magistrate, visiting the prison cells, asked Stepan whether +there was anything he had to complain of, or whether he had any wishes +that might be granted him. Stepan said he had no wishes whatever, +and had nothing to complain of the way he was treated in prison. The +magistrate, on leaving him, took a few steps in the foul passage, then +stopped and asked the governor who had accompanied him in his visit how +this prisoner was behaving. + +"I simply wonder at him," said the governor, who was very pleased with +Stepan, and spoke kindly of him. "He has now been with us about two +months, and could be held up as a model of good behaviour. But I +am afraid he is plotting some mischief. He is a daring man, and +exceptionally strong." + + +II + +DURING the first month in prison Stepan suffered from the same agonising +vision. He saw the grey wall of his cell, he heard the sounds of the +prison; the noise of the cell below him, where a number of convicts were +confined together; the striking of the prison clock; the steps of the +sentry in the passage; but at the same time he saw HER with that kindly +face which conquered his heart the very first time he met her in the +street, with that thin, strongly-marked neck, and he heard her soft, +lisping, pathetic voice: "To destroy somebody's soul . . . and, worst of +all, your own. . . . How can you? . . ." + +After a while her voice would die away, and then black faces would +appear. They would appear whether he had his eyes open or shut. With his +closed eyes he saw them more distinctly. When he opened his eyes they +vanished for a moment, melting away into the walls and the door; but +after a while they reappeared and surrounded him from three sides, +grinning at him and saying over and over: "Make an end! Make an end! +Hang yourself! Set yourself on fire!" Stepan shook all over when he +heard that, and tried to say all the prayers he knew: "Our Lady" or "Our +Father." At first this seemed to help. In saying his prayers he began to +recollect his whole life; his father, his mother, the village, the dog +"Wolf," the old grandfather lying on the stove, the bench on which the +children used to play; then the girls in the village with their songs, +his horses and how they had been stolen, and how the thief was caught +and how he killed him with a stone. He recollected also the first prison +he was in and his leaving it, and the fat innkeeper, the carter's wife +and the children. Then again SHE came to his mind and again he was +terrified. Throwing his prison overcoat off his shoulders, he jumped out +of bed, and, like a wild animal in a cage, began pacing up and down his +tiny cell, hastily turning round when he had reached the damp walls. +Once more he tried to pray, but it was of no use now. + +The autumn came with its long nights. One evening when the wind whistled +and howled in the pipes, Stepan, after he had paced up and down his cell +for a long time, sat down on his bed. He felt he could not struggle any +more; the black demons had overpowered him, and he had to submit. For +some time he had been looking at the funnel of the oven. If he could fix +on the knob of its lid a loop made of thin shreds of narrow linen straps +it would hold. . . . But he would have to manage it very cleverly. He +set to work, and spent two days in making straps out of the linen bag +on which he slept. When the guard came into the cell he covered the +bed with his overcoat. He tied the straps with big knots and made them +double, in order that they might be strong enough to hold his weight. +During these preparations he was free from tormenting visions. When the +straps were ready he made a slip-knot out of them, and put it round his +neck, stood up in his bed, and hanged himself. But at the very moment +that his tongue began to protrude the straps got loose, and he fell +down. The guard rushed in at the noise. The doctor was called in, Stepan +was brought to the infirmary. The next day he recovered, and was removed +from the infirmary, no more to solitary confinement, but to share the +common cell with other prisoners. + +In the common cell he lived in the company of twenty men, but felt as if +he were quite alone. He did not notice the presence of the rest; did not +speak to anybody, and was tormented by the old agony. He felt it most of +all when the men were sleeping and he alone could not get one moment of +sleep. Continually he saw HER before his eyes, heard her voice, and then +again the black devils with their horrible eyes came and tortured him in +the usual way. + +He again tried to say his prayers, but, just as before, it did not help +him. One day when, after his prayers, she was again before his eyes, he +began to implore her dear soul to forgive him his sin, and release him. +Towards morning, when he fell down quite exhausted on his crushed linen +bag, he fell asleep at once, and in his dream she came to him with her +thin, wrinkled, and severed neck. "Will you forgive me?" he asked. She +looked at him with her mild eyes and did not answer. "Will you forgive +me?" And so he asked her three times. But she did not say a word, and +he awoke. From that time onwards he suffered less, and seemed to come to +his senses, looked around him, and began for the first time to talk to +the other men in the cell. + + +III + +STEPAN'S cell was shared among others by the former yard-porter, +Vassily, who had been sentenced to deportation for robbery, and by +Chouev, sentenced also to deportation. Vassily sang songs the whole day +long with his fine voice, or told his adventures to the other men in the +cell. Chouev was working at something all day, mending his clothes, or +reading the Gospel and the Psalter. + +Stepan asked him why he was put into prison, and Chouev answered that he +was being persecuted because of his true Christian faith by the priests, +who were all of them hypocrites and hated those who followed the law of +Christ. Stepan asked what that true law was, and Chouev made clear to +him that the true law consists in not worshipping gods made with hands, +but worshipping the spirit and the truth. He told him how he had learnt +the truth from the lame tailor at the time when they were dividing the +land. + +"And what will become of those who have done evil?" asked Stepan. + +"The Scriptures give an answer to that," said Chouev, and read aloud to +him Matthew xxv. 31:--"When the Son of Man shall come in His glory, and +all the holy angels with Him, then shall He sit upon the throne of +His glory: and before Him shall be gathered all nations: and He shall +separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth His sheep from +the goats: and He shall set the sheep on His right hand, but the goats +on the left. Then shall the King say unto them on His right hand, Come, +ye blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the +foundation of the world: for I was an hungred, and ye gave Me meat: I +was thirsty, and ye gave Me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took Me +in: naked, and ye clothed Me: I was sick, and ye visited Me: I was +in prison, and ye came unto Me. Then shall the righteous answer Him, +saying, Lord, when saw we Thee an hungred, and fed Thee? or thirsty, +and gave Thee drink? When saw we Thee a stranger, and took Thee in? or +naked, and clothed Thee? Or when saw we Thee sick, or in prison, and +came unto Thee? And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I +say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these +My brethren, ye have done it unto Me. Then shall He say also unto them +on the left hand, Depart from Me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, +prepared for the devil and his angels: for I was an hungred, and ye gave +Me no meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave Me no drink: I was a stranger and +ye took Me not in: naked, and ye clothed Me not; sick, and in prison, +and ye visited Me not. Then shall they also answer Him, saying, Lord, +when saw we Thee an hungred, or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, or +sick, or in prison, and did not minister unto Thee? Then shall He answer +them, saying, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye did it not to one +of the least of these, ye did it not to Me. And these shall go away into +everlasting punishment: but the righteous into life eternal." + +Vassily, who was sitting on the floor at Chouev's side, and was +listening to his reading the Gospel, nodded his handsome head in +approval. "True," he said in a resolute tone. "Go, you cursed villains, +into everlasting punishment, since you did not give food to the hungry, +but swallowed it all yourself. Serves them right! I have read the holy +Nikodim's writings," he added, showing off his erudition. + +"And will they never be pardoned?" asked Stepan, who had listened +silently, with his hairy head bent low down. + +"Wait a moment, and be silent," said Chouev to Vassily, who went on +talking about the rich who had not given meat to the stranger, nor +visited him in the prison. + +"Wait, I say!" said Chouev, again turning over the leaves of the Gospel. +Having found what he was looking for, Chouev smoothed the page with his +large and strong hand, which had become exceedingly white in prison: + +"And there were also two other malefactors, led with Him"--it means with +Christ--"to be put to death. And when they were come to the place, which +is called Calvary, there they crucified Him, and the malefactors, one +on the right hand, and the other on the left. Then said Jesus,--'Father, +forgive them; for they know not what they do.' And the people stood +beholding. And the rulers also with them derided Him, saying,--'He saved +others; let Him save Himself if He be Christ, the chosen of God.' And +the soldiers also mocked Him, coming to Him, and offering Him vinegar, +and saying, 'If Thou be the King of the Jews save Thyself.' And a +superscription also was written over Him in letters of Greek, and Latin, +and Hebrew, 'This is the King of the Jews.' And one of the malefactors +which were hanged railed on Him, saying, 'If thou be Christ, save +Thyself and us.' But the other answering rebuked Him, saying, 'Dost not +thou fear God, seeing thou art in the same condemnation? And we indeed +justly, for we receive the due reward of our deeds: but this man hath +done nothing amiss.' And he said unto Jesus, 'Lord, remember me when +Thou comest into Thy kingdom.' And Jesus said unto him, 'Verily I say +unto thee, to-day shalt thou be with Me in paradise.'" + +Stepan did not say anything, and was sitting in thought, as if he were +listening. + +Now he knew what the true faith was. Those only will be saved who have +given food and drink to the poor and visited the prisoners; those who +have not done it, go to hell. And yet the malefactor had repented on +the cross, and went nevertheless to paradise. This did not strike him as +being inconsistent. Quite the contrary. The one confirmed the other: the +fact that the merciful will go to Heaven, and the unmerciful to hell, +meant that everybody ought to be merciful, and the malefactor having +been forgiven by Christ meant that Christ was merciful. This was all new +to Stepan, and he wondered why it had been hidden from him so long. + +From that day onward he spent all his free time with Chouev, asking him +questions and listening to him. He saw but a single truth at the bottom +of the teaching of Christ as revealed to him by Chouev: that all men are +brethren, and that they ought to love and pity one another in order that +all might be happy. And when he listened to Chouev, everything that was +consistent with this fundamental truth came to him like a thing he had +known before and only forgotten since, while whatever he heard that +seemed to contradict it, he would take no notice of, as he thought that +he simply had not understood the real meaning. And from that time Stepan +was a different man. + + +IV + +STEPAN had been very submissive and meek ever since he came to +the prison, but now he made the prison authorities and all his +fellow-prisoners wonder at the change in him. Without being ordered, and +out of his proper turn he would do all the very hardest work in prison, +and the dirtiest too. But in spite of his humility, the other prisoners +stood in awe of him, and were afraid of him, as they knew he was a +resolute man, possessed of great physical strength. Their respect for +him increased after the incident of the two tramps who fell upon him; he +wrenched himself loose from them and broke the arm of one of them in the +fight. These tramps had gambled with a young prisoner of some means and +deprived him of all his money. Stepan took his part, and deprived the +tramps of their winnings. The tramps poured their abuse on him; but when +they attacked him, he got the better of them. When the Governor asked +how the fight had come about, the tramps declared that it was Stepan +who had begun it. Stepan did not try to exculpate himself, and bore +patiently his sentence which was three days in the punishment-cell, and +after that solitary confinement. + +In his solitary cell he suffered because he could no longer listen to +Chouev and his Gospel. He was also afraid that the former visions of HER +and of the black devils would reappear to torment him. But the visions +were gone for good. His soul was full of new and happy ideas. He felt +glad to be alone if only he could read, and if he had the Gospel. He +knew that he might have got hold of the Gospel, but he could not read. + +He had started to learn the alphabet in his boyhood, but could not grasp +the joining of the syllables, and remained illiterate. He made up +his mind to start reading anew, and asked the guard to bring him the +Gospels. They were brought to him, and he sat down to work. He contrived +to recollect the letters, but could not join them into syllables. He +tried as hard as he could to understand how the letters ought to be put +together to form words, but with no result whatever. He lost his sleep, +had no desire to eat, and a deep sadness came over him, which he was +unable to shake off. + +"Well, have you not yet mastered it?" asked the guard one day. + +"No." + +"Do you know 'Our Father'?" + +"I do." + +"Since you do, read it in the Gospels. Here it is," said the guard, +showing him the prayer in the Gospels. Stepan began to read it, +comparing the letters he knew with the familiar sounds. + +And all of a sudden the mystery of the syllables was revealed to him, +and he began to read. This was a great joy. From that moment he could +read, and the meaning of the words, spelt out with such great pains, +became more significant. + +Stepan did not mind any more being alone. He was so full of his work +that he did not feel glad when he was transferred back to the common +cell, his private cell being needed for a political prisoner who had +been just sent to prison. + + +V + +IN the meantime Mahin, the schoolboy who had taught his friend +Smokovnikov to forge the coupon, had finished his career at school and +then at the university, where he had studied law. He had the advantage +of being liked by women, and as he had won favour with a vice-minister's +former mistress, he was appointed when still young as examining +magistrate. He was dishonest, had debts, had gambled, and had seduced +many women; but he was clever, sagacious, and a good magistrate. He was +appointed to the court of the district where Stepan Pelageushkine +had been tried. When Stepan was brought to him the first time to give +evidence, his sincere and quiet answers puzzled the magistrate. He +somehow unconsciously felt that this man, brought to him in fetters and +with a shorn head, guarded by two soldiers who were waiting to take +him back to prison, had a free soul and was immeasurably superior to +himself. He was in consequence somewhat troubled, and had to summon up +all his courage in order to go on with the inquiry and not blunder in +his questions. He was amazed that Stepan should narrate the story of his +crimes as if they had been things of long ago, and committed not by him +but by some different man. + +"Had you no pity for them?" asked Mahin. + +"No. I did not know then." + +"Well, and now?" + +Stepan smiled with a sad smile. "Now," he said, "I would not do it even +if I were to be burned alive." + +"But why? + +"Because I have come to know that all men are brethren." + +"What about me? Am I your brother also?" + +"Of course you are." + +"And how is it that I, your brother, am sending you to hard labour?" + +"It is because you don't know." + +"What do I not know?" + +"Since you judge, it means obviously that you don't know." + +"Go on. . . . What next?" + + +VI + +Now it was not Chouev, but Stepan who used to read the gospel in the +common cell. Some of the prisoners were singing coarse songs, while +others listened to Stepan reading the gospel and talking about what he +had read. The most attentive among those who listened were two of the +prisoners, Vassily, and a convict called Mahorkin, a murderer who had +become a hangman. Twice during his stay in this prison he was called +upon to do duty as hangman, and both times in far-away places where +nobody could be found to execute the sentences. + +Two of the peasants who had killed Peter Nikolaevich Sventizky, had been +sentenced to the gallows, and Mahorkin was ordered to go to Pensa to +hang them. On all previous occasions he used to write a petition to the +governor of the province--he knew well how to read and to write--stating +that he had been ordered to fulfil his duty, and asking for money +for his expenses. But now, to the greatest astonishment of the prison +authorities, he said he did not intend to go, and added that he would +not be a hangman any more. + +"And what about being flogged?" cried the governor of the prison. + +"I will have to bear it, as the law commands us not to kill." + +"Did you get that from Pelageushkine? A nice sort of a prison prophet! +You just wait and see what this will cost you!" + +When Mahin was told of that incident, he was greatly impressed by the +fact of Stepan's influence on the hangman, who refused to do his duty, +running the risk of being hanged himself for insubordination. + + +VII + +AT an evening party at the Eropkins, Mahin, who was paying attentions +to the two young daughters of the house--they were rich matches, both of +them--having earned great applause for his fine singing and playing +the piano, began telling the company about the strange convict who had +converted the hangman. Mahin told his story very accurately, as he had a +very good memory, which was all the more retentive because of his +total indifference to those with whom he had to deal. He never paid the +slightest attention to other people's feelings, and was therefore better +able to keep all they did or said in his memory. He got interested in +Stepan Pelageushkine, and, although he did not thoroughly understand +him, yet asked himself involuntarily what was the matter with the +man? He could not find an answer, but feeling that there was certainly +something remarkable going on in Stepan's soul, he told the company +at the Eropkins all about Stepan's conversion of the hangman, and also +about his strange behaviour in prison, his reading the Gospels and his +great influence on the rest of the prisoners. All this made a special +impression on the younger daughter of the family, Lisa, a girl of +eighteen, who was just recovering from the artificial life she had +been living in a boarding-school; she felt as if she had emerged out of +water, and was taking in the fresh air of true life with ecstasy. She +asked Mahin to tell her more about the man Pelageushkine, and to explain +to her how such a great change had come over him. Mahin told her what he +knew from the police official about Stepan's last murder, and also what +he had heard from Pelageushkine himself--how he had been conquered by +the humility, mildness, and fearlessness of a kind woman, who had been +his last victim, and how his eyes had been opened, while the reading of +the Gospels had completed the change in him. + +Lisa Eropkin was not able to sleep that night. For a couple of months a +struggle had gone on in her heart between society life, into which her +sister was dragging her, and her infatuation for Mahin, combined with +a desire to reform him. This second desire now became the stronger. She +had already heard about poor Maria Semenovna. But, after that kind woman +had been murdered in such a ghastly way, and after Mahin, who learnt +it from Stepan, had communicated to her all the facts concerning Maria +Semenovna's life, Lisa herself passionately desired to become like her. +She was a rich girl, and was afraid that Mahin had been courting her +because of her money. So she resolved to give all she possessed to the +poor, and told Mahin about it. + +Mahin was very glad to prove his disinterestedness, and told Lisa that +he loved her and not her money. Such proof of his innate nobility made +him admire himself greatly. Mahin helped Lisa to carry out her decision. +And the more he did so, the more he came to realise the new world of +Lisa's spiritual ambitions, quite unknown to him heretofore. + + +VIII + +ALL were silent in the common cell. Stepan was lying in his bed, but +was not yet asleep. Vassily approached him, and, pulling him by his leg, +asked him in a whisper to get up and to come to him. Stepan stepped out +of his bed, and came up to Vassily. + +"Do me a kindness, brother," said Vassily. "Help me!" + +"In what?" + +"I am going to fly from the prison." + +Vassily told Stepan that he had everything ready for his flight. + +"To-morrow I shall stir them up--" He pointed to the prisoners asleep in +their beds. "They will give me away, and I shall be transferred to the +cell in the upper floor. I know my way from there. What I want you for +is to unscrew the prop in the door of the mortuary." "I can do that. But +where will you go?" + +"I don't care where. Are not there plenty of wicked people in every +place?" + +"Quite so, brother. But it is not our business to judge them." + +"I am not a murderer, to be sure. I have not destroyed a living soul in +my life. As for stealing, I don't see any harm in that. As if they have +not robbed us!" + +"Let them answer for it themselves, if they do." + +"Bother them all! Suppose I rob a church, who will be hurt? This time +I will take care not to break into a small shop, but will get hold of a +lot of money, and then I will help people with it. I will give it to all +good people." + +One of the prisoners rose in his bed and listened. Stepan and Vassily +broke off their conversation. The next day Vassily carried out his idea. +He began complaining of the bread in prison, saying it was moist, and +induced the prisoners to call the governor and to tell him of their +discontent. The governor came, abused them all, and when he heard it +was Vassily who had stirred up the men, he ordered him to be transferred +into solitary confinement in the cell on the upper floor. This was all +Vassily wanted. + + +IX + +VASSILY knew well that cell on the upper floor. He knew its floor, and +began at once to take out bits of it. When he had managed to get under +the floor he took out pieces of the ceiling beneath, and jumped down +into the mortuary a floor below. That day only one corpse was lying on +the table. There in the corner of the room were stored bags to make hay +mattresses for the prisoners. Vassily knew about the bags, and that +was why the mortuary served his purposes. The prop in the door had been +unscrewed and put in again. He took it out, opened the door, and went +out into the passage to the lavatory which was being built. In the +lavatory was a large hole connecting the third floor with the basement +floor. After having found the door of the lavatory he went back to the +mortuary, stripped the sheet off the dead body which was as cold as ice +(in taking off the sheet Vassily touched his hand), took the bags, tied +them together to make a rope, and carried the rope to the lavatory. Then +he attached it to the cross-beam, and climbed down along it. The rope +did not reach the ground, but he did not know how much was wanting. +Anyhow, he had to take the risk. He remained hanging in the air, and +then jumped down. His legs were badly hurt, but he could still walk on. +The basement had two windows; he could have climbed out of one of them +but for the grating protecting them. He had to break the grating, but +there was no tool to do it with. Vassily began to look around him, and +chanced on a piece of plank with a sharp edge; armed with that weapon he +tried to loosen the bricks which held the grating. He worked a long time +at that task. The cock crowed for the second time, but the grating still +held. At last he had loosened one side; and then he pushed the plank +under the loosened end and pressed with all his force. The grating gave +way completely, but at that moment one of the bricks fell down heavily. +The noise could have been heard by the sentry. Vassily stood motionless. +But silence reigned. He climbed out of the window. His way of escape was +to climb the wall. An outhouse stood in the corner of the courtyard. He +had to reach its roof, and pass thence to the top of the wall. But he +would not be able to reach the roof without the help of the plank; so he +had to go back through the basement window to fetch it. A moment later +he came out of the window with the plank in his hands; he stood still +for a while listening to the steps of the sentry. His expectations were +justified. The sentry was walking up and down on the other side of the +courtyard. Vassily came up to the outhouse, leaned the plank against it, +and began climbing. The plank slipped and fell on the ground. Vassily +had his stockings on; he took them off so that he could cling with his +bare feet in coming down. Then he leaned the plank again against the +house, and seized the water-pipe with his hands. If only this time +the plank would hold! A quick movement up the water-pipe, and his knee +rested on the roof. The sentry was approaching. Vassily lay motionless. +The sentry did not notice him, and passed on. Vassily leaped to his +feet; the iron roof cracked under him. Another step or two, and he would +reach the wall. He could touch it with his hand now. He leaned forward +with one hand, then with the other, stretched out his body as far as +he could, and found himself on the wall. Only, not to break his legs in +jumping down, Vassily turned round, remained hanging in the air by his +hands, stretched himself out, loosened the grip of one hand, then the +other. "Help, me, God!" He was on the ground. And the ground was soft. +His legs were not hurt, and he ran at the top of his speed. In a suburb, +Malania opened her door, and he crept under her warm coverlet, made of +small pieces of different colours stitched together. + + +X + +THE wife of Peter Nikolaevich Sventizky, a tall and handsome woman, as +quiet and sleek as a well-fed heifer, had seen from her window how her +husband had been murdered and dragged away into the fields. The horror +of such a sight to Natalia Ivanovna was so intense--how could it be +otherwise?--that all her other feelings vanished. No sooner had the +crowd disappeared from view behind the garden fence, and the voices had +become still; no sooner had the barefooted Malania, their servant, run +in with her eyes starting out of her head, calling out in a voice +more suited to the proclamation of glad tidings the news that Peter +Nikolaevich had been murdered and thrown into the ravine, than Natalia +Ivanovna felt that behind her first sensation of horror, there was +another sensation; a feeling of joy at her deliverance from the tyrant, +who through all the nineteen years of their married life had made her +work without a moment's rest. Her joy made her aghast; she did not +confess it to herself, but hid it the more from those around. When +his mutilated, yellow and hairy body was being washed and put into the +coffin, she cried with horror, and wept and sobbed. When the coroner--a +special coroner for serious cases--came and was taking her evidence, she +noticed in the room, where the inquest was taking place, two peasants in +irons, who had been charged as the principal culprits. One of them was +an old man with a curly white beard, and a calm and severe countenance. +The other was rather young, of a gipsy type, with bright eyes and curly +dishevelled hair. She declared that they were the two men who had first +seized hold of Peter Nikolaevich's hands. In spite of the gipsy-like +peasant looking at her with his eyes glistening from under his moving +eyebrows, and saying reproachfully: "A great sin, lady, it is. Remember +your death hour!"--in spite of that, she did not feel at all sorry for +them. On the contrary, she began to hate them during the inquest, and +wished desperately to take revenge on her husband's murderers. + +A month later, after the case, which was committed for trial by +court-martial, had ended in eight men being sentenced to hard labour, +and in two--the old man with the white beard, and the gipsy boy, as she +called the other--being condemned to be hanged, Natalia felt vaguely +uneasy. But unpleasant doubts soon pass away under the solemnity of a +trial. Since such high authorities considered that this was the right +thing to do, it must be right. + +The execution was to take place in the village itself. One Sunday +Malania came home from church in her new dress and her new boots, and +announced to her mistress that the gallows were being erected, and that +the hangman was expected from Moscow on Wednesday. She also announced +that the families of the convicts were raging, and that their cries +could be heard all over the village. + +Natalia Ivanovna did not go out of her house; she did not wish to see +the gallows and the people in the village; she only wanted what had to +happen to be over quickly. She only considered her own feelings, and did +not care for the convicts and their families. + +On Tuesday the village constable called on Natalia Ivanovna. He was a +friend, and she offered him vodka and preserved mushrooms of her +own making. The constable, after eating a little, told her that the +execution was not to take place the next day. + +"Why?" + +"A very strange thing has happened. There is no hangman to be found. +They had one in Moscow, my son told me, but he has been reading the +Gospels a good deal and says: 'I will not commit a murder.' He had +himself been sentenced to hard labour for having committed a murder, and +now he objects to hang when the law orders him. He was threatened with +flogging. 'You may flog me,' he said, 'but I won't do it.'" + +Natalia Ivanovna grew red and hot at the thought which suddenly came +into her head. + +"Could not the death sentence be commuted now?" + +"How so, since the judges have passed it? The Czar alone has the right +of amnesty." + +"But how would he know?" + +"They have the right of appealing to him." + +"But it is on my account they are to die," said that stupid woman, +Natalia Ivanovna. "And I forgive them." + +The constable laughed. "Well--send a petition to the Czar." + +"May I do it?" + +"Of course you may." + +"But is it not too late?" + +"Send it by telegram." + +"To the Czar himself?" + +"To the Czar, if you like." + +The story of the hangman having refused to do his duty, and preferring +to take the flogging instead, suddenly changed the soul of Natalia +Ivanovna. The pity and the horror she felt the moment she heard that the +peasants were sentenced to death, could not be stifled now, but filled +her whole soul. + +"Filip Vassilievich, my friend. Write that telegram for me. I want to +appeal to the Czar to pardon them." + +The constable shook his head. "I wonder whether that would not involve +us in trouble?" + +"I do it upon my own responsibility. I will not mention your name." + +"Is not she a kind woman," thought the constable. "Very kind-hearted, +to be sure. If my wife had such a heart, our life would be a paradise, +instead of what it is now." And he wrote the telegram,--"To his Imperial +Majesty, the Emperor. Your Majesty's loyal subject, the widow of Peter +Nikolaevich Sventizky, murdered by the peasants, throws herself at the +sacred feet (this sentence, when he wrote it down, pleased the constable +himself most of all) of your Imperial Majesty, and implores you to grant +an amnesty to the peasants so and so, from such a province, district, +and village, who have been sentenced to death." + +The telegram was sent by the constable himself, and Natalia Ivanovna +felt relieved and happy. She had a feeling that since she, the widow of +the murdered man, had forgiven the murderers, and was applying for an +amnesty, the Czar could not possibly refuse it. + + +XI + +LISA EROPKIN lived in a state of continual excitement. The longer she +lived a true Christian life as it had been revealed to her, the more +convinced she became that it was the right way, and her heart was full +of joy. + +She had two immediate aims before her. The one was to convert Mahin; or, +as she put it to herself, to arouse his true nature, which was good +and kind. She loved him, and the light of her love revealed the divine +element in his soul which is at the bottom of all souls. But, further, +she saw in him an exceptionally kind and tender heart, as well as a +noble mind. Her other aim was to abandon her riches. She had first +thought of giving away what she possessed in order to test Mahin; but +afterwards she wanted to do so for her own sake, for the sake of her own +soul. She began by simply giving money to any one who wanted it. But her +father stopped that; besides which, she felt disgusted at the crowd of +supplicants who personally, and by letters, besieged her with demands +for money. Then she resolved to apply to an old man, known to be a +saint by his life, and to give him her money to dispose of in the way +he thought best. Her father got angry with her when he heard about it. +During a violent altercation he called her mad, a raving lunatic, and +said he would take measures to prevent her from doing injury to herself. + +Her father's irritation proved contagious. Losing all control +over herself, and sobbing with rage, she behaved with the greatest +impertinence to her father, calling him a tyrant and a miser. + +Then she asked his forgiveness. He said he did not mind what she said; +but she saw plainly that he was offended, and in his heart did not +forgive her. She did not feel inclined to tell Mahin about her quarrel +with her father; as to her sister, she was very cold to Lisa, being +jealous of Mahin's love for her. + +"I ought to confess to God," she said to herself. As all this happened +in Lent, she made up her mind to fast in preparation for the communion, +and to reveal all her thoughts to the father confessor, asking his +advice as to what she ought to decide for the future. + +At a small distance from her town a monastery was situated, where an old +monk lived who had gained a great reputation by his holy life, by his +sermons and prophecies, as well as by the marvellous cures ascribed to +him. + +The monk had received a letter from Lisa's father announcing the visit +of his daughter, and telling him in what a state of excitement the young +girl was. He also expressed the hope in that letter that the monk would +influence her in the right way, urging her not to depart from the golden +mean, and to live like a good Christian without trying to upset the +present conditions of her life. + +The monk received Lisa after he had seen many other people, and being +very tired, began by quietly recommending her to be modest and to submit +to her present conditions of life and to her parents. Lisa listened +silently, blushing and flushed with excitement. When he had finished +admonishing her, she began saying with tears in her eyes, timidly +at first, that Christ bade us leave father and mother to follow Him. +Getting more and more excited, she told him her conception of Christ. +The monk smiled slightly, and replied as he generally did when +admonishing his penitents; but after a while he remained silent, +repeating with heavy sighs, "O God!" Then he said, "Well, come to +confession to-morrow," and blessed her with his wrinkled hands. + +The next day Lisa came to confession, and without renewing their +interrupted conversation, he absolved her and refused to dispose of her +fortune, giving no reasons for doing so. + +Lisa's purity, her devotion to God and her ardent soul, impressed the +monk deeply. He had desired long ago to renounce the world entirely; but +the brotherhood, which drew a large income from his work as a preacher, +insisted on his continuing his activity. He gave way, although he had a +vague feeling that he was in a false position. It was rumoured that he +was a miracle-working saint, whereas in reality he was a weak man, proud +of his success in the world. When the soul of Lisa was revealed to him, +he saw clearly into his own soul. He discovered how different he was to +what he wanted to be, and realised the desire of his heart. + +Soon after Lisa's visit he went to live in a separate cell as a hermit, +and for three weeks did not officiate again in the church of the friary. +After the celebration of the mass, he preached a sermon denouncing his +own sins and those of the world, and urging all to repent. + +From that day he preached every fortnight, and his sermons attracted +increasing audiences. His fame as a preacher spread abroad. His sermons +were extraordinarily fearless and sincere, and deeply impressed all who +listened to him. + + +XII + +VASSILY was actually carrying out the object he had in leaving the +prison. With the help of a few friends he broke into the house of the +rich merchant Krasnopuzov, whom he knew to be a miser and a debauchee. +Vassily took out of his writing-desk thirty thousand roubles, and began +disposing of them as he thought right. He even gave up drink, so as +not to spend that money on himself, but to distribute it to the poor; +helping poor girls to get married; paying off people's debts, and doing +this all without ever revealing himself to those he helped; his only +desire was to distribute his money in the right way. As he also gave +bribes to the police, he was left in peace for a long time. + +His heart was singing for joy. When at last he was arrested and put to +trial, he confessed with pride that he had robbed the fat merchant. "The +money," he said, "was lying idle in that fool's desk, and he did not +even know how much he had, whereas I have put it into circulation and +helped a lot of good people." + +The counsel for the defence spoke with such good humour and kindness +that the jury felt inclined to discharge Vassily, but sentenced him +nevertheless to confinement in prison. He thanked the jury, and assured +them that he would find his way out of prison before long. + +XIII + +NATALIA IVANOVNA SVENTIZKY'S telegram proved useless. The committee +appointed to deal with the petitions in the Emperor's name, decided not +even to make a report to the Czar. But one day when the Sventizky case +was discussed at the Emperor's luncheon-table, the chairman of the +committee, who was present, mentioned the telegram which had been +received from Sventizky's widow. + +"C'est tres gentil de sa part," said one of the ladies of the imperial +family. + +The Emperor sighed, shrugged his shoulders, adorned with epaulettes. +"The law," he said; and raised his glass for the groom of the chamber to +pour out some Moselle. + +All those present pretended to admire the wisdom of the sovereign's +words. There was no further question about the telegram. The two +peasants, the old man and the young boy, were hanged by a Tartar hangman +from Kazan, a cruel convict and a murderer. + +The old man's wife wanted to dress the body of her husband in a white +shirt, with white bands which serve as stockings, and new boots, but she +was not allowed to do so. The two men were buried together in the same +pit outside the church-yard wall. + +"Princess Sofia Vladimirovna tells me he is a very remarkable preacher," +remarked the old Empress, the Emperor's mother, one day to her son: +"Faites le venir. Il peut precher a la cathedrale." + +"No, it would be better in the palace church," said the Emperor, and +ordered the hermit Isidor to be invited. + +All the generals, and other high officials, assembled in the church of +the imperial palace; it was an event to hear the famous preacher. + +A thin and grey old man appeared, looked at those present, and said: "In +the name of God, the Son, and the Holy Ghost," and began to speak. + +At first all went well, but the longer he spoke the worse it became. "Il +devient de plus en plus aggressif," as the Empress put it afterwards. He +fulminated against every one. He spoke about the executions and +charged the government with having made so many necessary. How can the +government of a Christian country kill men? + +Everybody looked at everybody else, thinking of the bad taste of the +sermon, and how unpleasant it must be for the Emperor to listen to it; +but nobody expressed these thoughts aloud. + +When Isidor had said Amen, the metropolitan approached, and asked him to +call on him. + +After Isidor had had a talk with the metropolitan and with the +attorney-general, he was immediately sent away to a friary, not his own, +but one at Suzdal, which had a prison attached to it; the prior of that +friary was now Father Missael. + + +XIV + +EVERY one tried to look as if Isidor's sermon contained nothing +unpleasant, and nobody mentioned it. It seemed to the Czar that the +hermit's words had not made any impression on himself; but once or twice +during that day he caught himself thinking of the two peasants who had +been hanged, and the widow of Sventizky who had asked an amnesty for +them. That day the Emperor had to be present at a parade; after which he +went out for a drive; a reception of ministers came next, then dinner, +after dinner the theatre. As usual, the Czar fell asleep the moment his +head touched the pillow. In the night an awful dream awoke him: he saw +gallows in a large field and corpses dangling on them; the tongues +of the corpses were protruding, and their bodies moved and shook. And +somebody shouted, "It is you--you who have done it!" The Czar woke up +bathed in perspiration and began to think. It was the first time that he +had ever thought of the responsibilities which weighed on him, and the +words of old Isidor came back to his mind. . . . + +But only dimly could he see himself as a mere human being, and he could +not consider his mere human wants and duties, because of all that was +required of him as Czar. As to acknowledging that human duties were more +obligatory than those of a Czar--he had not strength for that. + + +XV + +HAVING served his second term in the prison, Prokofy, who had formerly +worked on the Sventizky estate, was no longer the brisk, ambitious, +smartly dressed fellow he had been. He seemed, on the contrary, a +complete wreck. When sober he would sit idle and would refuse to do any +work, however much his father scolded him; moreover, he was continually +seeking to get hold of something secretly, and take it to the +public-house for a drink. When he came home he would continue to sit +idle, coughing and spitting all the time. The doctor on whom he called, +examined his chest and shook his head. + +"You, my man, ought to have many things which you have not got." + +"That is usually the case, isn't it? + +"Take plenty of milk, and don't smoke." + +"These are days of fasting, and besides we have no cow." + +Once in spring he could not get any sleep; he was longing to have a +drink. There was nothing in the house he could lay his hand on to take +to the public-house. He put on his cap and went out. He walked along the +street up to the house where the priest and the deacon lived together. +The deacon's harrow stood outside leaning against the hedge. Prokofy +approached, took the harrow upon his shoulder, and walked to an inn kept +by a woman, Petrovna. She might give him a small bottle of vodka for +it. But he had hardly gone a few steps when the deacon came out of his +house. It was already dawn, and he saw that Prokofy was carrying away +his harrow. + +"Hey, what's that?" cried the deacon. + +The neighbours rushed out from their houses. Prokofy was seized, +brought to the police station, and then sentenced to eleven months' +imprisonment. It was autumn, and Prokofy had to be transferred to the +prison hospital. He was coughing badly; his chest was heaving from the +exertion; and he could not get warm. Those who were stronger contrived +not to shiver; Prokofy on the contrary shivered day and night, as the +superintendent would not light the fires in the hospital till November, +to save expense. + +Prokofy suffered greatly in body, and still more in soul. He was +disgusted with his surroundings, and hated every one--the deacon, the +superintendent who would not light the fires, the guard, and the man +who was lying in the bed next to his, and who had a swollen red lip. He +began also to hate the new convict who was brought into hospital. This +convict was Stepan. He was suffering from some disease on his head, +and was transferred to the hospital and put in a bed at Prokofy's side. +After a time that hatred to Stepan changed, and Prokofy became, on the +contrary, extremely fond of him; he delighted in talking to him. It was +only after a talk with Stepan that his anguish would cease for a while. +Stepan always told every one he met about his last murder, and how it +had impressed him. + +"Far from shrieking, or anything of that kind," he said to Prokofy, "she +did not move. 'Kill me! There I am,' she said. 'But it is not my soul +you destroy, it is your own.'" + +"Well, of course, it is very dreadful to kill. I had one day to +slaughter a sheep, and even that made me half mad. I have not destroyed +any living soul; why then do those villains kill me? I have done no harm +to anybody . . ." + +"That will be taken into consideration." + +"By whom?" + +"By God, to be sure." + +"I have not seen anything yet showing that God exists, and I don't +believe in Him, brother. I think when a man dies, grass will grow over +the spot, and that is the end of it." + +"You are wrong to think like that. I have murdered so many people, +whereas she, poor soul, was helping everybody. And you think she and I +are to have the same lot? Oh no! Only wait." + +"Then you believe the soul lives on after a man is dead?" + +"To be sure; it truly lives." + +Prokofy suffered greatly when death drew near. He could hardly breathe. +But in the very last hour he felt suddenly relieved from all pain. He +called Stepan to him. "Farewell, brother," he said. "Death has come, I +see. I was so afraid of it before. And now I don't mind. I only wish it +to come quicker." + + +XVI + +IN the meanwhile, the affairs of Eugene Mihailovich had grown worse and +worse. Business was very slack. There was a new shop in the town; he was +losing his customers, and the interest had to be paid. He borrowed again +on interest. At last his shop and his goods were to be sold up. Eugene +Mihailovich and his wife applied to every one they knew, but they +could not raise the four hundred roubles they needed to save the shop +anywhere. + +They had some hope of the merchant Krasnopuzov, Eugene Mihailovich's +wife being on good terms with his mistress. But news came that +Krasnopuzov had been robbed of a huge sum of money. Some said of half +a million roubles. "And do you know who is said to be the thief?" said +Eugene Mihailovich to his wife. "Vassily, our former yard-porter. They +say he is squandering the money, and the police are bribed by him." + +"I knew he was a villain. You remember how he did not mind perjuring +himself? But I did not expect it would go so far." + +"I hear he has recently been in the courtyard of our house. Cook says +she is sure it was he. She told me he helps poor girls to get married." + +"They always invent tales. I don't believe it." + +At that moment a strange man, shabbily dressed, entered the shop. + +"What is it you want?" + +"Here is a letter for you." + +"From whom?" + +"You will see yourself." + +"Don't you require an answer? Wait a moment." + +"I cannot." The strange man handed the letter and disappeared. + +"How extraordinary!" said Eugene Mihailovich, and tore open the +envelope. To his great amazement several hundred rouble notes fell out. +"Four hundred roubles!" he exclaimed, hardly believing his eyes. "What +does it mean?" + +The envelope also contained a badly-spelt letter, addressed to Eugene +Mihailovich. "It is said in the Gospels," ran the letter, "do good for +evil. You have done me much harm; and in the coupon case you made me +wrong the peasants greatly. But I have pity for you. Here are four +hundred notes. Take them, and remember your porter Vassily." + +"Very extraordinary!" said Eugene Mihailovich to his wife and to +himself. And each time he remembered that incident, or spoke about it to +his wife, tears would come to his eyes. + + +XVII + +FOURTEEN priests were kept in the Suzdal friary prison, chiefly for +having been untrue to the orthodox faith. Isidor had been sent to that +place also. Father Missael received him according to the instructions he +had been given, and without talking to him ordered him to be put into a +separate cell as a serious criminal. After a fortnight Father Missael, +making a round of the prison, entered Isidor's cell, and asked him +whether there was anything he wished for. + +"There is a great deal I wish for," answered Isidor; "but I cannot +tell you what it is in the presence of anybody else. Let me talk to you +privately." + +They looked at each other, and Missael saw he had nothing to be afraid +of in remaining alone with Isidor. He ordered Isidor to be brought into +his own room, and when they were alone, he said,--"Well, now you can +speak." + +Isidor fell on his knees. + +"Brother," said Isidor. "What are you doing to yourself! Have mercy on +your own soul. You are the worst villain in the world. You have offended +against all that is sacred . . ." + +A month after Missael sent a report, asking that Isidor should be +released as he had repented, and he also asked for the release of the +rest of the prisoners. After which he resigned his post. + + +XVIII + +TEN years passed. Mitia Smokovnikov had finished his studies in the +Technical College; he was now an engineer in the gold mines in Siberia, +and was very highly paid. One day he was about to make a round in the +district. The governor offered him a convict, Stepan Pelageushkine, to +accompany him on his journey. + +"A convict, you say? But is not that dangerous?" + +"Not if it is this one. He is a holy man. You may ask anybody, they will +all tell you so." + +"Why has he been sent here?" + +The governor smiled. "He had committed six murders, and yet he is a holy +man. I go bail for him." + +Mitia Smokovnikov took Stepan, now a bald-headed, lean, tanned man, with +him on his journey. On their way Stepan took care of Smokovnikov, like +his own child, and told him his story; told him why he had been sent +here, and what now filled his life. + +And, strange to say, Mitia Smokovnikov, who up to that time used to +spend his time drinking, eating, and gambling, began for the first time +to meditate on life. These thoughts never left him now, and produced +a complete change in his habits. After a time he was offered a very +advantageous position. He refused it, and made up his mind to buy an +estate with the money he had, to marry, and to devote himself to the +peasantry, helping them as much as he could. + + +XIX + +HE carried out his intentions. But before retiring to his estate he +called on his father, with whom he had been on bad terms, and who had +settled apart with his new family. Mitia Smokovnikov wanted to make it +up. The old man wondered at first, and laughed at the change he noticed +in his son; but after a while he ceased to find fault with him, and +thought of the many times when it was he who was the guilty one. + + + + +AFTER THE DANCE + + +"--AND you say that a man cannot, of himself, understand what is good +and evil; that it is all environment, that the environment swamps the +man. But I believe it is all chance. Take my own case . . ." + +Thus spoke our excellent friend, Ivan Vasilievich, after a conversation +between us on the impossibility of improving individual character +without a change of the conditions under which men live. Nobody had +actually said that one could not of oneself understand good and evil; +but it was a habit of Ivan Vasilievich to answer in this way the +thoughts aroused in his own mind by conversation, and to illustrate +those thoughts by relating incidents in his own life. He often quite +forgot the reason for his story in telling it; but he always told it +with great sincerity and feeling. + +He did so now. + +"Take my own case. My whole life was moulded, not by environment, but by +something quite different." + +"By what, then?" we asked. + +"Oh, that is a long story. I should have to tell you about a great many +things to make you understand." + +"Well, tell us then." + +Ivan Vasilievich thought a little, and shook his head. + +"My whole life," he said, "was changed in one night, or, rather, +morning." + +"Why, what happened?" one of us asked. + +"What happened was that I was very much in love. I have been in love +many times, but this was the most serious of all. It is a thing of +the past; she has married daughters now. It was Varinka B----." Ivan +Vasilievich mentioned her surname. "Even at fifty she is remarkably +handsome; but in her youth, at eighteen, she was exquisite--tall, +slender, graceful, and stately. Yes, stately is the word; she held +herself very erect, by instinct as it were; and carried her head high, +and that together with her beauty and height gave her a queenly air in +spite of being thin, even bony one might say. It might indeed have +been deterring had it not been for her smile, which was always gay and +cordial, and for the charming light in her eyes and for her youthful +sweetness." + +"What an entrancing description you give, Ivan Vasilievich!" + +"Description, indeed! I could not possibly describe her so that you +could appreciate her. But that does not matter; what I am going to +tell you happened in the forties. I was at that time a student in a +provincial university. I don't know whether it was a good thing or no, +but we had no political clubs, no theories in our universities then. +We were simply young and spent our time as young men do, studying and +amusing ourselves. I was a very gay, lively, careless fellow, and had +plenty of money too. I had a fine horse, and used to go tobogganing +with the young ladies. Skating had not yet come into fashion. I went to +drinking parties with my comrades--in those days we drank nothing but +champagne--if we had no champagne we drank nothing at all. We never +drank vodka, as they do now. Evening parties and balls were my favourite +amusements. I danced well, and was not an ugly fellow." + +"Come, there is no need to be modest," interrupted a lady near him. +"We have seen your photograph. Not ugly, indeed! You were a handsome +fellow." + +"Handsome, if you like. That does not matter. When my love for her was +at its strongest, on the last day of the carnival, I was at a ball at +the provincial marshal's, a good-natured old man, rich and hospitable, +and a court chamberlain. The guests were welcomed by his wife, who was +as good-natured as himself. She was dressed in puce-coloured velvet, and +had a diamond diadem on her forehead, and her plump, old white shoulders +and bosom were bare like the portraits of Empress Elizabeth, the +daughter of Peter the Great. + +"It was a delightful ball. It was a splendid room, with a gallery for +the orchestra, which was famous at the time, and consisted of serfs +belonging to a musical landowner. The refreshments were magnificent, and +the champagne flowed in rivers. Though I was fond of champagne I did not +drink that night, because without it I was drunk with love. But I made +up for it by dancing waltzes and polkas till I was ready to drop--of +course, whenever possible, with Varinka. She wore a white dress with a +pink sash, white shoes, and white kid gloves, which did not quite reach +to her thin pointed elbows. A disgusting engineer named Anisimov robbed +me of the mazurka with her--to this day I cannot forgive him. He asked +her for the dance the minute she arrived, while I had driven to the +hair-dresser's to get a pair of gloves, and was late. So I did not dance +the mazurka with her, but with a German girl to whom I had previously +paid a little attention; but I am afraid I did not behave very politely +to her that evening. I hardly spoke or looked at her, and saw nothing +but the tall, slender figure in a white dress, with a pink sash, a +flushed, beaming, dimpled face, and sweet, kind eyes. I was not alone; +they were all looking at her with admiration, the men and women alike, +although she outshone all of them. They could not help admiring her. + +"Although I was not nominally her partner for the mazurka, I did as a +matter of fact dance nearly the whole time with her. She always came +forward boldly the whole length of the room to pick me out. I flew to +meet her without waiting to be chosen, and she thanked me with a smile +for my intuition. When I was brought up to her with somebody else, and +she guessed wrongly, she took the other man's hand with a shrug of her +slim shoulders, and smiled at me regretfully. + +"Whenever there was a waltz figure in the mazurka, I waltzed with +her for a long time, and breathing fast and smiling, she would say, +'Encore'; and I went on waltzing and waltzing, as though unconscious of +any bodily existence." + +"Come now, how could you be unconscious of it with your arm round her +waist? You must have been conscious, not only of your own existence, but +of hers," said one of the party. + +Ivan Vasilievich cried out, almost shouting in anger: "There you are, +moderns all over! Nowadays you think of nothing but the body. It was +different in our day. The more I was in love the less corporeal was she +in my eyes. Nowadays you think of nothing but the body. It was different +in our day. The more I was in love the less corporeal was she in my +eyes. Nowadays you set legs, ankles, and I don't know what. You undress +the women you are in love with. In my eyes, as Alphonse Karr said--and +he was a good writer--' the one I loved was always draped in robes of +bronze.' We never thought of doing so; we tried to veil her nakedness, +like Noah's good-natured son. Oh, well, you can't understand." + +"Don't pay any attention to him. Go on," said one of them. + +"Well, I danced for the most part with her, and did not notice how time +was passing. The musicians kept playing the same mazurka tunes over and +over again in desperate exhaustion--you know what it is towards the end +of a ball. Papas and mammas were already getting up from the card-tables +in the drawing-room in expectation of supper, the men-servants were +running to and fro bringing in things. It was nearly three o'clock. +I had to make the most of the last minutes. I chose her again for the +mazurka, and for the hundredth time we danced across the room. + +"'The quadrille after supper is mine,' I said, taking her to her place. + +"'Of course, if I am not carried off home,' she said, with a smile. + +"'I won't give you up,' I said. + +"'Give me my fan, anyhow,' she answered. + +"'I am so sorry to part with it,' I said, handing her a cheap white fan. + +"'Well, here's something to console you,' she said, plucking a feather +out of the fan, and giving it to me. + +"I took the feather, and could only express my rapture and gratitude +with my eyes. I was not only pleased and gay, I was happy, delighted; +I was good, I was not myself but some being not of this earth, knowing +nothing of evil. I hid the feather in my glove, and stood there unable +to tear myself away from her. + +"'Look, they are urging father to dance,' she said to me, pointing +to the tall, stately figure of her father, a colonel with silver +epaulettes, who was standing in the doorway with some ladies. + +"'Varinka, come here!' exclaimed our hostess, the lady with the diamond +ferronniere and with shoulders like Elizabeth, in a loud voice. + +"'Varinka went to the door, and I followed her. + +"'Persuade your father to dance the mazurka with you, ma chere.--Do, +please, Peter Valdislavovich,' she said, turning to the colonel. + +"Varinka's father was a very handsome, well-preserved old man. He had +a good colour, moustaches curled in the style of Nicolas I., and +white whiskers which met the moustaches. His hair was combed on to his +forehead, and a bright smile, like his daughter's, was on his lips and +in his eyes. He was splendidly set up, with a broad military chest, on +which he wore some decorations, and he had powerful shoulders and long +slim legs. He was that ultra-military type produced by the discipline of +Emperor Nicolas I. + +"When we approached the door the colonel was just refusing to dance, +saying that he had quite forgotten how; but at that instant he smiled, +swung his arm gracefully around to the left, drew his sword from its +sheath, handed it to an obliging young man who stood near, and smoothed +his suede glove on his right hand. + +"'Everything must be done according to rule,' he said with a smile. He +took the hand of his daughter, and stood one-quarter turned, waiting for +the music. + +"At the first sound of the mazurka, he stamped one foot smartly, threw +the other forward, and, at first slowly and smoothly, then buoyantly +and impetuously, with stamping of feet and clicking of boots, his tall, +imposing figure moved the length of the room. Varinka swayed gracefully +beside him, rhythmically and easily, making her steps short or long, +with her little feet in their white satin slippers. + +"All the people in the room followed every movement of the couple. As +for me I not only admired, I regarded them with enraptured sympathy. I +was particularly impressed with the old gentleman's boots. They were +not the modern pointed affairs, but were made of cheap leather, +squared-toed, and evidently built by the regimental cobbler. In order +that his daughter might dress and go out in society, he did not buy +fashionable boots, but wore home-made ones, I thought, and his square +toes seemed to me most touching. It was obvious that in his time he +had been a good dancer; but now he was too heavy, and his legs had not +spring enough for all the beautiful steps he tried to take. Still, he +contrived to go twice round the room. When at the end, standing with +legs apart, he suddenly clicked his feet together and fell on one +knee, a bit heavily, and she danced gracefully around him, smiling and +adjusting her skirt, the whole room applauded. + +"Rising with an effort, he tenderly took his daughter's face between his +hands. He kissed her on the forehead, and brought her to me, under the +impression that I was her partner for the mazurka. I said I was not. +'Well, never mind, just go around the room once with her,' he said, +smiling kindly, as he replaced his sword in the sheath. + +"As the contents of a bottle flow readily when the first drop has been +poured, so my love for Varinka seemed to set free the whole force of +loving within me. In surrounding her it embraced the world. I loved +the hostess with her diadem and her shoulders like Elizabeth, and her +husband and her guests and her footmen, and even the engineer Anisimov +who felt peevish towards me. As for Varinka's father, with his home-made +boots and his kind smile, so like her own, I felt a sort of tenderness +for him that was almost rapture. + +"After supper I danced the promised quadrille with her, and though I had +been infinitely happy before, I grew still happier every moment. + +"We did not speak of love. I neither asked myself nor her whether she +loved me. It was quite enough to know that I loved her. And I had only +one fear--that something might come to interfere with my great joy. + +"When I went home, and began to undress for the night, I found it quite +out of the question. I held the little feather out of her fan in my hand, +and one of her gloves which she gave me when I helped her into the +carriage after her mother. Looking at these things, and without closing +my eyes I could see her before me as she was for an instant when she had +to choose between two partners. She tried to guess what kind of person +was represented in me, and I could hear her sweet voice as she said, +'Pride--am I right?' and merrily gave me her hand. At supper she took +the first sip from my glass of champagne, looking at me over the rim +with her caressing glance. But, plainest of all, I could see her as she +danced with her father, gliding along beside him, and looking at the +admiring observers with pride and happiness. + +"He and she were united in my mind in one rush of pathetic tenderness. + +"I was living then with my brother, who has since died. He disliked +going out, and never went to dances; and besides, he was busy preparing +for his last university examinations, and was leading a very regular +life. He was asleep. I looked at him, his head buried in the pillow and +half covered with the quilt; and I affectionately pitied him, pitied him +for his ignorance of the bliss I was experiencing. Our serf Petrusha +had met me with a candle, ready to undress me, but I sent him away. His +sleepy face and tousled hair seemed to me so touching. Trying not to +make a noise, I went to my room on tiptoe and sat down on my bed. No, I +was too happy; I could not sleep. Besides, it was too hot in the rooms. +Without taking off my uniform, I went quietly into the hall, put on my +overcoat, opened the front door and stepped out into the street. + +"It was after four when I had left the ball; going home and stopping +there a while had occupied two hours, so by the time I went out it +was dawn. It was regular carnival weather--foggy, and the road full +of water-soaked snow just melting, and water dripping from the eaves. +Varinka's family lived on the edge of town near a large field, one end +of which was a parade ground: at the other end was a boarding-school for +young ladies. I passed through our empty little street and came to the +main thoroughfare, where I met pedestrians and sledges laden with +wood, the runners grating the road. The horses swung with regular paces +beneath their shining yokes, their backs covered with straw mats +and their heads wet with rain; while the drivers, in enormous boots, +splashed through the mud beside the sledges. All this, the very +horses themselves, seemed to me stimulating and fascinating, full of +suggestion. + +"When I approached the field near their house, I saw at one end of it, +in the direction of the parade ground, something very huge and black, +and I heard sounds of fife and drum proceeding from it. My heart had +been full of song, and I had heard in imagination the tune of the +mazurka, but this was very harsh music. It was not pleasant. + +"'What can that be?' I thought, and went towards the sound by a slippery +path through the centre of the field. Walking about a hundred paces, +I began to distinguish many black objects through the mist. They were +evidently soldiers. 'It is probably a drill,' I thought. + +"So I went along in that direction in company with a blacksmith, who +wore a dirty coat and an apron, and was carrying something. He walked +ahead of me as we approached the place. The soldiers in black uniforms +stood in two rows, facing each other motionless, their guns at rest. +Behind them stood the fifes and drums, incessantly repeating the same +unpleasant tune. + +"'What are they doing?' I asked the blacksmith, who halted at my side. + +"'A Tartar is being beaten through the ranks for his attempt to desert,' +said the blacksmith in an angry tone, as he looked intently at the far +end of the line. + +"I looked in the same direction, and saw between the files something +horrid approaching me. The thing that approached was a man, stripped +to the waist, fastened with cords to the guns of two soldiers who were +leading him. At his side an officer in overcoat and cap was walking, +whose figure had a familiar look. The victim advanced under the blows +that rained upon him from both sides, his whole body plunging, his +feet dragging through the snow. Now he threw himself backward, and the +subalterns who led him thrust him forward. Now he fell forward, and they +pulled him up short; while ever at his side marched the tall officer, +with firm and nervous pace. It was Varinka's father, with his rosy face +and white moustache. + +"At each stroke the man, as if amazed, turned his face, grimacing with +pain, towards the side whence the blow came, and showing his white teeth +repeated the same words over and over. But I could only hear what the +words were when he came quite near. He did not speak them, he sobbed +them out,--"'Brothers, have mercy on me! Brothers, have mercy on me!' +But the brothers had, no mercy, and when the procession came close to +me, I saw how a soldier who stood opposite me took a firm step forward +and lifting his stick with a whirr, brought it down upon the man's back. +The man plunged forward, but the subalterns pulled him back, and another +blow came down from the other side, then from this side and then from +the other. The colonel marched beside him, and looking now at his feet +and now at the man, inhaled the air, puffed out his cheeks, and breathed +it out between his protruded lips. When they passed the place where I +stood, I caught a glimpse between the two files of the back of the man +that was being punished. It was something so many-coloured, wet, red, +unnatural, that I could hardly believe it was a human body. + +"'My God!"' muttered the blacksmith. + +The procession moved farther away. The blows continued to rain upon the +writhing, falling creature; the fifes shrilled and the drums beat, and +the tall imposing figure of the colonel moved along-side the man, just +as before. Then, suddenly, the colonel stopped, and rapidly approached a +man in the ranks. + +"'I'll teach you to hit him gently,' I heard his furious voice say. +'Will you pat him like that? Will you?' and I saw how his strong hand +in the suede glove struck the weak, bloodless, terrified soldier for not +bringing down his stick with sufficient strength on the red neck of the +Tartar. + +"'Bring new sticks!' he cried, and looking round, he saw me. Assuming +an air of not knowing me, and with a ferocious, angry frown, he hastily +turned away. I felt so utterly ashamed that I didn't know where to look. +It was as if I had been detected in a disgraceful act. I dropped my +eyes, and quickly hurried home. All the way I had the drums beating and +the fifes whistling in my ears. And I heard the words, 'Brothers, have +mercy on me!' or 'Will you pat him? Will you?' My heart was full of +physical disgust that was almost sickness. So much so that I halted +several times on my way, for I had the feeling that I was going to be +really sick from all the horrors that possessed me at that sight. I do +not remember how I got home and got to bed. But the moment I was about +to fall asleep I heard and saw again all that had happened, and I sprang +up. + +"'Evidently he knows something I do not know,' I thought about +the colonel. 'If I knew what he knows I should certainly +grasp--understand--what I have just seen, and it would not cause me such +suffering.' + +"But however much I thought about it, I could not understand the thing +that the colonel knew. It was evening before I could get to sleep, +and then only after calling on a friend and drinking till I; was quite +drunk. + +"Do you think I had come to the conclusion that the deed I had witnessed +was wicked? Oh, no. Since it was done with such assurance, and was +recognised by every one as indispensable, they doubtless knew something +which I did not know. So I thought, and tried to understand. But no +matter, I could never understand it, then or afterwards. And not being +able to grasp it, I could not enter the service as I had intended. I +don't mean only the military service: I did not enter the Civil Service +either. And so I have been of no use whatever, as you can see." + +"Yes, we know how useless you've been," said one of us. "Tell us, +rather, how many people would be of any use at all if it hadn't been for +you." + +"Oh, that's utter nonsense," said Ivan Vasilievich, with genuine +annoyance. + +"Well; and what about the love affair? + +"My love? It decreased from that day. When, as often happened, she +looked dreamy and meditative, I instantly recollected the colonel on the +parade ground, and I felt so awkward and uncomfortable that I began to +see her less frequently. So my love came to naught. Yes; such chances +arise, and they alter and direct a man's whole life," he said in summing +up. "And you say . . ." + + + + +ALYOSHA THE POT + +ALYOSHA was the younger brother. He was called the Pot, because his +mother had once sent him with a pot of milk to the deacon's wife, and he +had stumbled against something and broken it. His mother had beaten him, +and the children had teased him. Since then he was nicknamed the Pot. +Alyosha was a tiny, thin little fellow, with ears like wings, and a huge +nose. "Alyosha has a nose that looks like a dog on a hill!" the children +used to call after him. Alyosha went to the village school, but was not +good at lessons; besides, there was so little time to learn. His elder +brother was in town, working for a merchant, so Alyosha had to help his +father from a very early age. When he was no more than six he used to +go out with the girls to watch the cows and sheep in the pasture, and +a little later he looked after the horses by day and by night. And at +twelve years of age he had already begun to plough and to drive the +cart. The skill was there though the strength was not. He was always +cheerful. Whenever the children made fun of him, he would either laugh +or be silent. When his father scolded him he would stand mute and listen +attentively, and as soon as the scolding was over would smile and go +on with his work. Alyosha was nineteen when his brother was taken as a +soldier. So his father placed him with the merchant as a yard-porter. +He was given his brother's old boots, his father's old coat and cap, +and was taken to town. Alyosha was delighted with his clothes, but the +merchant was not impressed by his appearance. + +"I thought you would bring me a man in Simeon's place," he said, +scanning Alyosha; "and you've brought me THIS! What's the good of him?" + +"He can do everything; look after horses and drive. He's a good one +to work. He looks rather thin, but he's tough enough. And he's very +willing." + +"He looks it. All right; we'll see what we can do with him." + +So Alyosha remained at the merchant's. + +The family was not a large one. It consisted of the merchant's wife: +her old mother: a married son poorly educated who was in his father's +business: another son, a learned one who had finished school and entered +the University, but having been expelled, was living at home: and a +daughter who still went to school. + +They did not take to Alyosha at first. He was uncouth, badly dressed, +and had no manner, but they soon got used to him. Alyosha worked even +better than his brother had done; he was really very willing. They sent +him on all sorts of errands, but he did everything quickly and readily, +going from one task to another without stopping. And so here, just as at +home, all the work was put upon his shoulders. The more he did, the more +he was given to do. His mistress, her old mother, the son, the daughter, +the clerk, and the cook--all ordered him about, and sent him from one +place to another. + +"Alyosha, do this! Alyosha, do that! What! have you forgotten, Alyosha? +Mind you don't forget, Alyosha!" was heard from morning till night. And +Alyosha ran here, looked after this and that, forgot nothing, found time +for everything, and was always cheerful. + +His brother's old boots were soon worn out, and his master scolded +him for going about in tatters with his toes sticking out. He ordered +another pair to be bought for him in the market. Alyosha was delighted +with his new boots, but was angry with his feet when they ached at the +end of the day after so much running about. And then he was afraid that +his father would be annoyed when he came to town for his wages, to find +that his master had deducted the cost of the boots. + +In the winter Alyosha used to get up before daybreak. He would chop the +wood, sweep the yard, feed the cows and horses, light the stoves, clean +the boots, prepare the samovars and polish them afterwards; or the clerk +would get him to bring up the goods; or the cook would set him to knead +the bread and clean the saucepans. Then he was sent to town on various +errands, to bring the daughter home from school, or to get some olive +oil for the old mother. "Why the devil have you been so long?" first +one, then another, would say to him. Why should they go? Alyosha can go. +"Alyosha! Alyosha!" And Alyosha ran here and there. He breakfasted in +snatches while he was working, and rarely managed to get his dinner at +the proper hour. The cook used to scold him for being late, but she was +sorry for him all the same, and would keep something hot for his dinner +and supper. + +At holiday times there was more work than ever, but Alyosha liked +holidays because everybody gave him a tip. Not much certainly, but it +would amount up to about sixty kopeks [1s 2d]--his very own money. For +Alyosha never set eyes on his wages. His father used to come and take +them from the merchant, and only scold Alyosha for wearing out his +boots. + +When he had saved up two roubles [4s], by the advice of the cook he +bought himself a red knitted jacket, and was so happy when he put it +on, that he couldn't close his mouth for joy. Alyosha was not talkative; +when he spoke at all, he spoke abruptly, with his head turned away. +When told to do anything, or asked if he could do it, he would say yes +without the smallest hesitation, and set to work at once. + +Alyosha did not know any prayer; and had forgotten what his mother +had taught him. But he prayed just the same, every morning and every +evening, prayed with his hands, crossing himself. + +He lived like this for about a year and a half, and towards the end of +the second year a most startling thing happened to him. He discovered +one day, to his great surprise, that, in addition to the relation of +usefulness existing between people, there was also another, a peculiar +relation of quite a different character. Instead of a man being wanted +to clean boots, and go on errands and harness horses, he is not wanted +to be of any service at all, but another human being wants to serve him +and pet him. Suddenly Alyosha felt he was such a man. + +He made this discovery through the cook Ustinia. She was young, had no +parents, and worked as hard as Alyosha. He felt for the first time in +his life that he--not his services, but he himself--was necessary to +another human being. When his mother used to be sorry for him, he had +taken no notice of her. It had seemed to him quite natural, as though +he were feeling sorry for himself. But here was Ustinia, a perfect +stranger, and sorry for him. She would save him some hot porridge, and +sit watching him, her chin propped on her bare arm, with the sleeve +rolled up, while he was eating it. When he looked at her she would begin +to laugh, and he would laugh too. + +This was such a new, strange thing to him that it frightened Alyosha. +He feared that it might interfere with his work. But he was pleased, +nevertheless, and when he glanced at the trousers that Ustinia had +mended for him, he would shake his head and smile. He would often +think of her while at work, or when running on errands. "A fine girl, +Ustinia!" he sometimes exclaimed. + +Ustinia used to help him whenever she could, and he helped her. She told +him all about her life; how she had lost her parents; how her aunt had +taken her in and found a place for her in the town; how the merchant's +son had tried to take liberties with her, and how she had rebuffed him. +She liked to talk, and Alyosha liked to listen to her. He had heard +that peasants who came up to work in the towns frequently got married +to servant girls. On one occasion she asked him if his parents intended +marrying him soon. He said that he did not know; that he did not want to +marry any of the village girls. + +"Have you taken a fancy to some one, then?" + +"I would marry you, if you'd be willing." + +"Get along with you, Alyosha the Pot; but you've found your tongue, +haven't you?" she exclaimed, slapping him on the back with a towel she +held in her hand. "Why shouldn't I?" + +At Shrovetide Alyosha's father came to town for his wages. It had come +to the ears of the merchant's wife that Alyosha wanted to marry Ustinia, +and she disapproved of it. "What will be the use of her with a baby?" +she thought, and informed her husband. + +The merchant gave the old man Alyosha's wages. + +"How is my lad getting on?" he asked. "I told you he was willing." + +"That's all right, as far as it goes, but he's taken some sort of +nonsense into his head. He wants to marry our cook. Now I don't approve +of married servants. We won't have them in the house." + +"Well, now, who would have thought the fool would think of such a +thing?" the old man exclaimed. "But don't you worry. I'll soon settle +that." + +He went into the kitchen, and sat down at the table waiting for his son. +Alyosha was out on an errand, and came back breathless. + +"I thought you had some sense in you; but what's this you've taken into +your head?" his father began. + +"I? Nothing." + +"How, nothing? They tell me you want to get married. You shall get +married when the time comes. I'll find you a decent wife, not some town +hussy." + +His father talked and talked, while Alyosha stood still and sighed. When +his father had quite finished, Alyosha smiled. + +"All right. I'll drop it." + +"Now that's what I call sense." + +When he was left alone with Ustinia he told her what his father had +said. (She had listened at the door.) + +"It's no good; it can't come off. Did you hear? He was angry--won't have +it at any price." + +Ustinia cried into her apron. + +Alyosha shook his head. + +"What's to be done? We must do as we're told." + +"Well, are you going to give up that nonsense, as your father told you?" +his mistress asked, as he was putting up the shutters in the evening. + +"To be sure we are," Alyosha replied with a smile, and then burst into +tears. + +From that day Alyosha went about his work as usual, and no longer talked +to Ustinia about their getting married. One day in Lent the clerk told +him to clear the snow from the roof. Alyosha climbed on to the roof and +swept away all the snow; and, while he was still raking out some frozen +lumps from the gutter, his foot slipped and he fell over. Unfortunately +he did not fall on the snow, but on a piece of iron over the door. +Ustinia came running up, together with the merchant's daughter. + +"Have you hurt yourself, Alyosha?" + +"Ah! no, it's nothing." + +But he could not raise himself when he tried to, and began to smile. + +He was taken into the lodge. The doctor arrived, examined him, and asked +where he felt the pain. + +"I feel it all over," he said. "But it doesn't matter. I'm only afraid +master will be annoyed. Father ought to be told." + +Alyosha lay in bed for two days, and on the third day they sent for the +priest. + +"Are you really going to die?" Ustinia asked. + +"Of course I am. You can't go on living for ever. You must go when the +time comes." Alyosha spoke rapidly as usual. "Thank you, Ustinia. You've +been very good to me. What a lucky thing they didn't let us marry! Where +should we have been now? It's much better as it is." + +When the priest came, he prayed with his bands and with his heart. "As +it is good here when you obey and do no harm to others, so it will be +there," was the thought within it. + +He spoke very little; he only said he was thirsty, and he seemed full of +wonder at something. + +He lay in wonderment, then stretched himself, and died. + + + + +MY DREAM + +"As a daughter she no longer exists for me. Can't you understand? She +simply doesn't exist. Still, I cannot possibly leave her to the charity +of strangers. I will arrange things so that she can live as she pleases, +but I do not wish to hear of her. Who would ever have thought . . . the +horror of it, the horror of it." + +He shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, and raised his eyes. These +words were spoken by Prince Michael Ivanovich to his brother Peter, who +was governor of a province in Central Russia. Prince Peter was a man of +fifty, Michael's junior by ten years. + +On discovering that his daughter, who had left his house a year before, +had settled here with her child, the elder brother had come from St. +Petersburg to the provincial town, where the above conversation took +place. + +Prince Michael Ivanovich was a tall, handsome, white-haired, fresh +coloured man, proud and attractive in appearance and bearing. His family +consisted of a vulgar, irritable wife, who wrangled with him continually +over every petty detail, a son, a ne'er-do-well, spendthrift and +roue--yet a "gentleman," according to his father's code, two daughters, +of whom the elder had married well, and was living in St. Petersburg; +and the younger, Lisa--his favourite, who had disappeared from home a +year before. Only a short while ago he had found her with her child in +this provincial town. + +Prince Peter wanted to ask his brother how, and under what +circumstances, Lisa had left home, and who could possibly be the father +of her child. But he could not make up his mind to inquire. + +That very morning, when his wife had attempted to condole with her +brother-in-law, Prince Peter had observed a look of pain on his +brother's face. The look had at once been masked by an expression of +unapproachable pride, and he had begun to question her about their flat, +and the price she paid. At luncheon, before the family and guests, he +had been witty and sarcastic as usual. Towards every one, excepting the +children, whom he treated with almost reverent tenderness, he adopted an +attitude of distant hauteur. And yet it was so natural to him that every +one somehow acknowledged his right to be haughty. + +In the evening his brother arranged a game of whist. When he retired to +the room which had been made ready for him, and was just beginning to +take out his artificial teeth, some one tapped lightly on the door with +two fingers. + +"Who is that?" + +"C'est moi, Michael." + +Prince Michael Ivanovich recognised the voice of his sister-in-law, +frowned, replaced his teeth, and said to himself, "What does she want?" +Aloud he said, "Entrez." + +His sister-in-law was a quiet, gentle creature, who bowed in submission +to her husband's will. But to many she seemed a crank, and some did not +hesitate to call her a fool. She was pretty, but her hair was always +carelessly dressed, and she herself was untidy and absent-minded. She +had, also, the strangest, most unaristocratic ideas, by no means fitting +in the wife of a high official. These ideas she would express most +unexpectedly, to everybody's astonishment, her husband's no less than +her friends'. + +"Fous pouvez me renvoyer, mais je ne m'en irai pas, je vous le dis +d'avance," she began, in her characteristic, indifferent way. + +"Dieu preserve," answered her brother-in-law, with his usual somewhat +exaggerated politeness, and brought forward a chair for her. + +"Ca ne vous derange pas?" she asked, taking out a cigarette. "I'm +not going to say anything unpleasant, Michael. I only wanted to say +something about Lisochka." + +Michael Ivanovich sighed--the word pained him; but mastering himself at +once, he answered with a tired smile. "Our conversation can only be +on one subject, and that is the subject you wish to discuss." He spoke +without looking at her, and avoided even naming the subject. But his +plump, pretty little sister-in-law was unabashed. She continued to +regard him with the same gentle, imploring look in her blue eyes, +sighing even more deeply. + +"Michael, mon bon ami, have pity on her. She is only human." + +"I never doubted that," said Michael Ivanovich with a bitter smile. + +"She is your daughter." + +"She was--but my dear Aline, why talk about this?" + +"Michael, dear, won't you see her? I only wanted to say, that the one +who is to blame--" + +Prince Michael Ivanovich flushed; his face became cruel. + +"For heaven's sake, let us stop. I have suffered enough. I have now but +one desire, and that is to put her in such a position that she will +be independent of others, and that she shall have no further need of +communicating with me. Then she can live her own life, and my family and +I need know nothing more about her. That is all I can do." + +"Michael, you say nothing but 'I'! She, too, is 'I.'" + +"No doubt; but, dear Aline, please let us drop the matter. I feel it too +deeply." + +Alexandra Dmitrievna remained silent for a few moments, shaking her +head. "And Masha, your wife, thinks as you do?" + +"Yes, quite." + +Alexandra Dmitrievna made an inarticulate sound. + +"Brisons la dessus et bonne nuit," said he. But she did not go. She +stood silent a moment. Then,--"Peter tells me you intend to leave the +money with the woman where she lives. Have you the address?" + +"I have." + +"Don't leave it with the woman, Michael! Go yourself. Just see how she +lives. If you don't want to see her, you need not. HE isn't there; there +is no one there." + +Michael Ivanovich shuddered violently. + +"Why do you torture me so? It's a sin against hospitality!" + +Alexandra Dmitrievna rose, and almost in tears, being touched by her own +pleading, said, "She is so miserable, but she is such a dear." + +He got up, and stood waiting for her to finish. She held out her hand. + +"Michael, you do wrong," said she, and left him. + +For a long while after she had gone Michael Ivanovich walked to and fro +on the square of carpet. He frowned and shivered, and exclaimed, "Oh, +oh!" And then the sound of his own voice frightened him, and he was +silent. + +His wounded pride tortured him. His daughter--his--brought up in the +house of her mother, the famous Avdotia Borisovna, whom the Empress +honoured with her visits, and acquaintance with whom was an honour for +all the world! His daughter--; and he had lived his life as a knight of +old, knowing neither fear nor blame. The fact that he had a natural son +born of a Frenchwoman, whom he had settled abroad, did not lower his +own self-esteem. And now this daughter, for whom he had not only done +everything that a father could and should do; this daughter to whom he +had given a splendid education and every opportunity to make a match in +the best Russian society--this daughter to whom he had not only given +all that a girl could desire, but whom he had really LOVED; whom he had +admired, been proud of--this daughter had repaid him with such disgrace, +that he was ashamed and could not face the eyes of men! + +He recalled the time when she was not merely his child, and a member of +his family, but his darling, his joy and his pride. He saw her again, a +little thing of eight or nine, bright, intelligent, lively, impetuous, +graceful, with brilliant black eyes and flowing auburn hair. He +remembered how she used to jump up on his knees and hug him, and tickle +his neck; and how she would laugh, regardless of his protests, and +continue to tickle him, and kiss his lips, his eyes, and his cheeks. +He was naturally opposed to all demonstration, but this impetuous love +moved him, and he often submitted to her petting. He remembered also how +sweet it was to caress her. To remember all this, when that sweet child +had become what she now was, a creature of whom he could not think +without loathing. + +He also recalled the time when she was growing into womanhood, and the +curious feeling of fear and anger that he experienced when he became +aware that men regarded her as a woman. He thought of his jealous love +when she came coquettishly to him dressed for a ball, and knowing that +she was pretty. He dreaded the passionate glances which fell upon her, +that she not only did not understand but rejoiced in. "Yes," thought he, +"that superstition of woman's purity! Quite the contrary, they do not +know shame--they lack this sense." He remembered how, quite inexplicably +to him, she had refused two very good suitors. She had become more and +more fascinated by her own success in the round of gaieties she lived +in. + +But this success could not last long. A year passed, then two, then +three. She was a familiar figure, beautiful--but her first youth had +passed, and she had become somehow part of the ball-room furniture. +Michael Ivanovich remembered how he had realised that she was on the +road to spinsterhood, and desired but one thing for her. He must get her +married off as quickly as possible, perhaps not quite so well as might +have been arranged earlier, but still a respectable match. + +But it seemed to him she had behaved with a pride that bordered on +insolence. Remembering this, his anger rose more and more fiercely +against her. To think of her refusing so many decent men, only to end in +this disgrace. "Oh, oh!" he groaned again. + +Then stopping, he lit a cigarette, and tried to think of other things. +He would send her money, without ever letting her see him. But memories +came again. He remembered--it was not so very long ago, for she was more +than twenty then--her beginning a flirtation with a boy of fourteen, +a cadet of the Corps of Pages who had been staying with them in +the country. She had driven the boy half crazy; he had wept in his +distraction. Then how she had rebuked her father severely, coldly, and +even rudely, when, to put an end to this stupid affair, he had sent the +boy away. She seemed somehow to consider herself insulted. Since then +father and daughter had drifted into undisguised hostility. + +"I was right," he said to himself. "She is a wicked and shameless +woman." + +And then, as a last ghastly memory, there was the letter from Moscow, +in which she wrote that she could not return home; that she was a +miserable, abandoned woman, asking only to be forgiven and forgotten. +Then the horrid recollection of the scene with his wife came to him; +their surmises and their suspicions, which became a certainty. The +calamity had happened in Finland, where they had let her visit her aunt; +and the culprit was an insignificant Swede, a student, an empty-headed, +worthless creature--and married. + +All this came back to him now as he paced backwards and forwards on the +bedroom carpet, recollecting his former love for her, his pride in +her. He recoiled with terror before the incomprehensible fact of +her downfall, and he hated her for the agony she was causing him. He +remembered the conversation with his sister-in-law, and tried to imagine +how he might forgive her. But as soon as the thought of "him" arose, +there surged up in his heart horror, disgust, and wounded pride. He +groaned aloud, and tried to think of something else. + +"No, it is impossible; I will hand over the money to Peter to give her +monthly. And as for me, I have no longer a daughter." + +And again a curious feeling overpowered him: a mixture of self-pity +at the recollection of his love for her, and of fury against her for +causing him this anguish. + +II + +DURING the last year Lisa had without doubt lived through more than in +all the preceding twenty-five. Suddenly she had realised the emptiness +of her whole life. It rose before her, base and sordid--this life at +home and among the rich set in St. Petersburg--this animal existence +that never sounded the depths, but only touched the shallows of life. + +It was well enough for a year or two, or perhaps even three. But when it +went on for seven or eight years, with its parties, balls, concerts, and +suppers; with its costumes and coiffures to display the charms of the +body; with its adorers old and young, all alike seemingly possessed of +some unaccountable right to have everything, to laugh at everything; and +with its summer months spent in the same way, everything yielding but a +superficial pleasure, even music and reading merely touching upon life's +problems, but never solving them--all this holding out no promise of +change, and losing its charm more and more--she began to despair. She +had desperate moods when she longed to die. + +Her friends directed her thoughts to charity. On the one hand, she +saw poverty which was real and repulsive, and a sham poverty even more +repulsive and pitiable; on the other, she saw the terrible indifference +of the lady patronesses who came in carriages and gowns worth thousands. +Life became to her more and more unbearable. She yearned for something +real, for life itself--not this playing at living, not this skimming +life of its cream. Of real life there was none. The best of her memories +was her love for the little cadet Koko. That had been a good, honest, +straight-forward impulse, and now there was nothing like it. There could +not be. She grew more and more depressed, and in this gloomy mood she +went to visit an aunt in Finland. The fresh scenery and surroundings, +the people strangely different to her own, appealed to her at any rate +as a new experience. + +How and when it all began she could not clearly remember. Her aunt had +another guest, a Swede. He talked of his work, his people, the latest +Swedish novel. Somehow, she herself did not know how that terrible +fascination of glances and smiles began, the meaning of which cannot be +put into words. + +These smiles and glances seemed to reveal to each, not only the soul of +the other, but some vital and universal mystery. Every word they spoke +was invested by these smiles with a profound and wonderful significance. +Music, too, when they were listening together, or when they sang duets, +became full of the same deep meaning. So, also, the words in the books +they read aloud. Sometimes they would argue, but the moment their +eyes met, or a smile flashed between them, the discussion remained +far behind. They soared beyond it to some higher plane consecrated to +themselves. + +How it had come about, how and when the devil, who had seized hold of +them both, first appeared behind these smiles and glances, she could not +say. But, when terror first seized her, the invisible threads that bound +them were already so interwoven that she had no power to tear herself +free. She could only count on him and on his honour. She hoped that he +would not make use of his power; yet all the while she vaguely desired +it. + +Her weakness was the greater, because she had nothing to support her in +the struggle. She was weary of society life and she had no affection for +her mother. Her father, so she thought, had cast her away from him, and +she longed passionately to live and to have done with play. Love, the +perfect love of a woman for a man, held the promise of life for her. Her +strong, passionate nature, too, was dragging her thither. In the +tall, strong figure of this man, with his fair hair and light upturned +moustache, under which shone a smile attractive and compelling, she saw +the promise of that life for which she longed. And then the smiles and +glances, the hope of something so incredibly beautiful, led, as they +were bound to lead, to that which she feared but unconsciously awaited. + +Suddenly all that was beautiful, joyous, spiritual, and full of promise +for the future, became animal and sordid, sad and despairing. + +She looked into his eyes and tried to smile, pretending that she feared +nothing, that everything was as it should be; but deep down in her soul +she knew it was all over. She understood that she had not found in him +what she had sought; that which she had once known in herself and in +Koko. She told him that he must write to her father asking her hand in +marriage. This he promised to do; but when she met him next he said it +was impossible for him to write just then. She saw something vague and +furtive in his eyes, and her distrust of him grew. The following day he +wrote to her, telling her that he was already married, though his wife +had left him long since; that he knew she would despise him for the +wrong he had done her, and implored her forgiveness. She made him come +to see her. She said she loved him; that she felt herself bound to him +for ever whether he was married or not, and would never leave him. The +next time they met he told her that he and his parents were so poor that +he could only offer her the meanest existence. She answered that she +needed nothing, and was ready to go with him at once wherever he wished. +He endeavoured to dissuade her, advising her to wait; and so she waited. +But to live on with this secret, with occasional meetings, and merely +corresponding with him, all hidden from her family, was agonising, +and she insisted again that he must take her away. At first, when she +returned to St. Petersburg, he wrote promising to come, and then letters +ceased and she knew no more of him. + +She tried to lead her old life, but it was impossible. She fell ill, +and the efforts of the doctors were unavailing; in her hopelessness she +resolved to kill herself. But how was she to do this, so that her death +might seem natural? She really desired to take her life, and imagined +that she had irrevocably decided on the step. So, obtaining some poison, +she poured it into a glass, and in another instant would have drunk it, +had not her sister's little son of five at that very moment run in to +show her a toy his grandmother had given him. She caressed the child, +and, suddenly stopping short, burst into tears. + +The thought overpowered her that she, too, might have been a mother had +he not been married, and this vision of motherhood made her look into +her own soul for the first time. She began to think not of what others +would say of her, but of her own life. To kill oneself because of +what the world might say was easy; but the moment she saw her own life +dissociated from the world, to take that life was out of the question. +She threw away the poison, and ceased to think of suicide. + +Then her life within began. It was real life, and despite the torture of +it, had the possibility been given her, she would not have turned back +from it. She began to pray, but there was no comfort in prayer; and +her suffering was less for herself than for her father, whose grief she +foresaw and understood. + +Thus months dragged along, and then something happened which entirely +transformed her life. One day, when she was at work upon a quilt, she +suddenly experienced a strange sensation. No--it seemed impossible. +Motionless she sat with her work in hand. Was it possible that this +was IT. Forgetting everything, his baseness and deceit, her mother's +querulousness, and her father's sorrow, she smiled. She shuddered at +the recollection that she was on the point of killing it, together with +herself. + +She now directed all her thoughts to getting away--somewhere where she +could bear her child--and become a miserable, pitiful mother, but a +mother withal. Somehow she planned and arranged it all, leaving her home +and settling in a distant provincial town, where no one could find +her, and where she thought she would be far from her people. But, +unfortunately, her father's brother received an appointment there, +a thing she could not possibly foresee. For four months she had been +living in the house of a midwife--one Maria Ivanovna; and, on learning +that her uncle had come to the town, she was preparing to fly to a still +remoter hiding-place. + +III + +MICHAEL IVANOVICH awoke early next morning. He entered his brother's +study, and handed him the cheque, filled in for a sum which he asked +him to pay in monthly instalments to his daughter. He inquired when the +express left for St. Petersburg. The train left at seven in the evening, +giving him time for an early dinner before leaving. He breakfasted with +his sister-in-law, who refrained from mentioning the subject which was +so painful to him, but only looked at him timidly; and after breakfast +he went out for his regular morning walk. + +Alexandra Dmitrievna followed him into the hall. + +"Go into the public gardens, Michael--it is very charming there, and +quite near to Everything," said she, meeting his sombre looks with a +pathetic glance. + +Michael Ivanovich followed her advice and went to the public gardens, +which were so near to Everything, and meditated with annoyance on the +stupidity, the obstinacy, and heartlessness of women. + +"She is not in the very least sorry for me," he thought of his +sister-in-law. "She cannot even understand my sorrow. And what of her?" +He was thinking of his daughter. "She knows what all this means to +me--the torture. What a blow in one's old age! My days will be shortened +by it! But I'd rather have it over than endure this agony. And all +that 'pour les beaux yeux d'un chenapan'--oh!" he moaned; and a wave of +hatred and fury arose in him as he thought of what would be said in the +town when every one knew. (And no doubt every one knew already.) Such a +feeling of rage possessed him that he would have liked to beat it into +her head, and make her understand what she had done. These women never +understand. "It is quite near Everything," suddenly came to his mind, +and getting out his notebook, he found her address. Vera Ivanovna +Silvestrova, Kukonskaya Street, Abromov's house. She was living under +this name. He left the gardens and called a cab. + +"Whom do you wish to see, sir?" asked the midwife, Maria Ivanovna, when +he stepped on the narrow landing of the steep, stuffy staircase. + +"Does Madame Silvestrova live here?" + +"Vera Ivanovna? Yes; please come in. She has gone out; she's gone to the +shop round the corner. But she'll be back in a minute." + +Michael Ivanovich followed the stout figure of Maria Ivanovna into +a tiny parlour, and from the next room came the screams of a baby, +sounding cross and peevish, which filled him with disgust. They cut him +like a knife. + +Maria Ivanovna apologised, and went into the room, and he could hear her +soothing the child. The child became quiet, and she returned. + +"That is her baby; she'll be back in a minute. You are a friend of hers, +I suppose?" + +"Yes--a friend--but I think I had better come back later on," said +Michael Ivanovich, preparing to go. It was too unbearable, this +preparation to meet her, and any explanation seemed impossible. + +He had just turned to leave, when he heard quick, light steps on the +stairs, and he recognised Lisa's voice. + +"Maria Ivanovna--has he been crying while I've been gone--I was--" + +Then she saw her father. The parcel she was carrying fell from her +hands. + +"Father!" she cried, and stopped in the doorway, white and trembling. + +He remained motionless, staring at her. She had grown so thin. Her eyes +were larger, her nose sharper, her hands worn and bony. He neither +knew what to do, nor what to say. He forgot all his grief about his +dishonour. He only felt sorrow, infinite sorrow for her; sorrow for her +thinness, and for her miserable rough clothing; and most of all, for her +pitiful face and imploring eyes. + +"Father--forgive," she said, moving towards him. + +"Forgive--forgive me," he murmured; and he began to sob like a child, +kissing her face and hands, and wetting them with his tears. + +In his pity for her he understood himself. And when he saw himself as he +was, he realised how he had wronged her, how guilty he had been in his +pride, in his coldness, even in his anger towards her. He was glad that +it was he who was guilty, and that he had nothing to forgive, but that +he himself needed forgiveness. She took him to her tiny room, and told +him how she lived; but she did not show him the child, nor did she +mention the past, knowing how painful it would be to him. + +He told her that she must live differently. + +"Yes; if I could only live in the country," said she. + +"We will talk it over," he said. Suddenly the child began to wail and +to scream. She opened her eyes very wide; and, not taking them from her +father's face, remained hesitating and motionless. + +"Well--I suppose you must feed him," said Michael Ivanovich, and frowned +with the obvious effort. + +She got up, and suddenly the wild idea seized her to show him whom she +loved so deeply the thing she now loved best of all in the world. But +first she looked at her father's face. Would he be angry or not? His +face revealed no anger, only suffering. + +"Yes, go, go," said he; "God bless you. Yes. I'll come again to-morrow, +and we will decide. Good-bye, my darling--good-bye." Again he found it +hard to swallow the lump in his throat. + +When Michael Ivanovich returned to his brother's house, Alexandra +Dmitrievna immediately rushed to him. + +"Well?" + +"Well? Nothing." + +"Have you seen?" she asked, guessing from his expression that something +had happened. + +"Yes," he answered shortly, and began to cry. "I'm getting old and +stupid," said he, mastering his emotion. + +"No; you are growing wise--very wise." + + + + +THERE ARE NO GUILTY PEOPLE + + +I + +MINE is a strange and wonderful lot! The chances are that there is not a +single wretched beggar suffering under the luxury and oppression of the +rich who feels anything like as keenly as I do either the injustice, +the cruelty, and the horror of their oppression of and contempt for +the poor; or the grinding humiliation and misery which befall the great +majority of the workers, the real producers of all that makes life +possible. I have felt this for a long time, and as the years have +passed by the feeling has grown and grown, until recently it reached its +climax. Although I feel all this so vividly, I still live on amid the +depravity and sins of rich society; and I cannot leave it, because I +have neither the knowledge nor the strength to do so. I cannot. I do +not know how to change my life so that my physical needs--food, sleep, +clothing, my going to and fro--may be satisfied without a sense of shame +and wrongdoing in the position which I fill. + +There was a time when I tried to change my position, which was not in +harmony with my conscience; but the conditions created by the past, by +my family and its claims upon me, were so complicated that they would +not let me out of their grasp, or rather, I did not know how to free +myself. I had not the strength. Now that I am over eighty and have +become feeble, I have given up trying to free myself; and, strange to +say, as my feebleness increases I realise more and more strongly the +wrongfulness of my position, and it grows more and more intolerable to +me. + +It has occurred to me that I do not occupy this position for nothing: +that Providence intended that I should lay bare the truth of my +feelings, so that I might atone for all that causes my suffering, and +might perhaps open the eyes of those--or at least of some of those--who +are still blind to what I see so clearly, and thus might lighten +the burden of that vast majority who, under existing conditions, are +subjected to bodily and spiritual suffering by those who deceive them +and also deceive themselves. Indeed, it may be that the position which +I occupy gives me special facilities for revealing the artificial and +criminal relations which exist between men--for telling the whole truth +in regard to that position without confusing the issue by attempting to +vindicate myself, and without rousing the envy of the rich and feelings +of oppression in the hearts of the poor and downtrodden. I am so +placed that I not only have no desire to vindicate myself; but, on the +contrary, I find it necessary to make an effort lest I should exaggerate +the wickedness of the great among whom I live, of whose society I am +ashamed, whose attitude towards their fellow-men I detest with my whole +soul, though I find it impossible to separate my lot from theirs. But +I must also avoid the error of those democrats and others who, in +defending the oppressed and the enslaved, do not see their failings and +mistakes, and who do not make sufficient allowance for the difficulties +created, the mistakes inherited from the past, which in a degree lessens +the responsibility of the upper classes. + +Free from desire for self-vindication, free from fear of an emancipated +people, free from that envy and hatred which the oppressed feel for +their oppressors, I am in the best possible position to see the truth +and to tell it. Perhaps that is why Providence placed me in such a +position. I will do my best to turn it to account. + + +II + +Alexander Ivanovich Volgin, a bachelor and a clerk in a Moscow bank at a +salary of eight thousand roubles a year, a man much respected in his own +set, was staying in a country-house. His host was a wealthy landowner, +owning some twenty-five hundred acres, and had married his guest's +cousin. Volgin, tired after an evening spent in playing vint* for small +stakes with [* A game of cards similar to auction bridge.] members +of the family, went to his room and placed his watch, silver +cigarette-case, pocket-book, big leather purse, and pocket-brush and +comb on a small table covered with a white cloth, and then, taking off +his coat, waistcoat, shirt, trousers, and underclothes, his silk socks +and English boots, put on his nightshirt and dressing-gown. His watch +pointed to midnight. Volgin smoked a cigarette, lay on his face for +about five minutes reviewing the day's impressions; then, blowing +out his candle, he turned over on his side and fell asleep about one +o'clock, in spite of a good deal of restlessness. Awaking next morning +at eight he put on his slippers and dressing-gown, and rang the bell. + +The old butler, Stephen, the father of a family and the grandfather of +six grandchildren, who had served in that house for thirty years, +entered the room hurriedly, with bent legs, carrying in the newly +blackened boots which Volgin had taken off the night before, a +well-brushed suit, and a clean shirt. The guest thanked him, and then +asked what the weather was like (the blinds were drawn so that the sun +should not prevent any one from sleeping till eleven o'clock if he were +so inclined), and whether his hosts had slept well. He glanced at his +watch--it was still early--and began to wash and dress. His water was +ready, and everything on the washing-stand and dressing-table was ready +for use and properly laid out--his soap, his tooth and hair brushes, his +nail scissors and files. He washed his hands and face in a leisurely +fashion, cleaned and manicured his nails, pushed back the skin with the +towel, and sponged his stout white body from head to foot. Then he began +to brush his hair. Standing in front of the mirror, he first brushed his +curly beard, which was beginning to turn grey, with two English brushes, +parting it down the middle. Then he combed his hair, which was already +showing signs of getting thin, with a large tortoise-shell comb. Putting +on his underlinen, his socks, his boots, his trousers--which were held +up by elegant braces--and his waistcoat, he sat down coatless in an easy +chair to rest after dressing, lit a cigarette, and began to think where +he should go for a walk that morning--to the park or to Littleports +(what a funny name for a wood!). He thought he would go to Littleports. +Then he must answer Simon Nicholaevich's letter; but there was time +enough for that. Getting up with an air of resolution, he took out his +watch. It was already five minutes to nine. He put his watch into his +waistcoat pocket, and his purse--with all that was left of the hundred +and eighty roubles he had taken for his journey, and for the incidental +expenses of his fortnight's stay with his cousin--and then he +placed into his trouser pocket his cigarette-case and electric +cigarette-lighter, and two clean handkerchiefs into his coat pockets, +and went out of the room, leaving as usual the mess and confusion which +he had made to be cleared up by Stephen, an old man of over fifty. +Stephen expected Volgin to "remunerate" him, as he said, being so +accustomed to the work that he did not feel the slightest repugnance for +it. Glancing at a mirror, and feeling satisfied with his appearance, +Volgin went into the dining-room. + +There, thanks to the efforts of the housekeeper, the footman, and +under-butler--the latter had risen at dawn in order to run home to +sharpen his son's scythe--breakfast was ready. On a spotless white cloth +stood a boiling, shiny, silver samovar (at least it looked like silver), +a coffee-pot, hot milk, cream, butter, and all sorts of fancy white +bread and biscuits. The only persons at table were the second son of the +house, his tutor (a student), and the secretary. The host, who was an +active member of the Zemstvo and a great farmer, had already left the +house, having gone at eight o'clock to attend to his work. Volgin, while +drinking his coffee, talked to the student and the secretary about +the weather, and yesterday's vint, and discussed Theodorite's peculiar +behaviour the night before, as he had been very rude to his father +without the slightest cause. Theodorite was the grown-up son of the +house, and a ne'er-do-well. His name was Theodore, but some one had +once called him Theodorite either as a joke or to tease him; and, as it +seemed funny, the name stuck to him, although his doings were no longer +in the least amusing. So it was now. He had been to the university, but +left it in his second year, and joined a regiment of horse guards; but +he gave that up also, and was now living in the country, doing nothing, +finding fault, and feeling discontented with everything. Theodorite +was still in bed: so were the other members of the household--Anna +Mikhailovna, its mistress; her sister, the widow of a general; and a +landscape painter who lived with the family. + +Volgin took his panama hat from the hall table (it had cost twenty +roubles) and his cane with its carved ivory handle, and went out. +Crossing the veranda, gay with flowers, he walked through the flower +garden, in the centre of which was a raised round bed, with rings of +red, white, and blue flowers, and the initials of the mistress of the +house done in carpet bedding in the centre. Leaving the flower garden +Volgin entered the avenue of lime trees, hundreds of years old, which +peasant girls were tidying and sweeping with spades and brooms. The +gardener was busy measuring, and a boy was bringing something in a +cart. Passing these Volgin went into the park of at least a hundred +and twenty-five acres, filled with fine old trees, and intersected by +a network of well-kept walks. Smoking as he strolled Volgin took his +favourite path past the summer-house into the fields beyond. It was +pleasant in the park, but it was still nicer in the fields. On the right +some women who were digging potatoes formed a mass of bright red and +white colour; on the left were wheat fields, meadows, and grazing +cattle; and in the foreground, slightly to the right, were the dark, +dark oaks of Littleports. Volgin took a deep breath, and felt glad that +he was alive, especially here in his cousin's home, where he was so +thoroughly enjoying the rest from his work at the bank. + +"Lucky people to live in the country," he thought. "True, what with his +farming and his Zemstvo, the owner of the estate has very little peace +even in the country, but that is his own lookout." Volgin shook his +head, lit another cigarette, and, stepping out firmly with his powerful +feet clad in his thick English boots, began to think of the heavy +winter's work in the bank that was in front of him. "I shall be there +every day from ten to two, sometimes even till five. And the board +meetings . . . And private interviews with clients. . . . Then the Duma. +Whereas here. . . . It is delightful. It may be a little dull, but it is +not for long." He smiled. After a stroll in Littleports he turned back, +going straight across a fallow field which was being ploughed. A herd of +cows, calves, sheep, and pigs, which belonged to the village community, +was grazing there. The shortest way to the park was to pass through the +herd. He frightened the sheep, which ran away one after another, and +were followed by the pigs, of which two little ones stared solemnly at +him. The shepherd boy called to the sheep and cracked his whip. "How far +behind Europe we are," thought Volgin, recalling his frequent holidays +abroad. "You would not find a single cow like that anywhere in Europe." +Then, wanting to find out where the path which branched off from the +one he was on led to and who was the owner of the herd, he called to the +boy. + +"Whose herd is it?" + +The boy was so filled with wonder, verging on terror, when he gazed +at the hat, the well-brushed beard, and above all the gold-rimmed +eyeglasses, that he could not reply at once. When Volgin repeated his +question the boy pulled himself together, and said, "Ours." "But whose +is 'ours'?" said Volgin, shaking his head and smiling. The boy was +wearing shoes of plaited birch bark, bands of linen round his legs, a +dirty, unbleached shirt ragged at the shoulder, and a cap the peak of +which had been torn. + +"Whose is 'ours'?" + +"The Pirogov village herd." + +"How old are you? + +"I don't know." + +"Can you read?" + +"No, I can't." + +"Didn't you go to school?" + +"Yes, I did." + +"Couldn't you learn to read?" + +"No." + +"Where does that path lead?" + +The boy told him, and Volgin went on towards the house, thinking how +he would chaff Nicholas Petrovich about the deplorable condition of the +village schools in spite of all his efforts. + +On approaching the house Volgin looked at his watch, and saw that it was +already past eleven. He remembered that Nicholas Petrovich was going to +drive to the nearest town, and that he had meant to give him a letter +to post to Moscow; but the letter was not written. The letter was a very +important one to a friend, asking him to bid for him for a picture +of the Madonna which was to be offered for sale at an auction. As he +reached the house he saw at the door four big, well-fed, well-groomed, +thoroughbred horses harnessed to a carriage, the black lacquer of which +glistened in the sun. The coachman was seated on the box in a kaftan, +with a silver belt, and the horses were jingling their silver bells from +time to time. + +A bare-headed, barefooted peasant in a ragged kaftan stood at the front +door. He bowed. Volgin asked what he wanted. + +"I have come to see Nicholas Petrovich." + +"What about?" + +"Because I am in distress--my horse has died." + +Volgin began to question him. The peasant told him how he was situated. +He had five children, and this had been his only horse. Now it was gone. +He wept. + +"What are you going to do?" + +"To beg." And he knelt down, and remained kneeling in spite of Volgin's +expostulations. + +"What is your name?" + +"Mitri Sudarikov," answered the peasant, still kneeling. + +Volgin took three roubles from his purse and gave them to the peasant, +who showed his gratitude by touching the ground with his forehead, and +then went into the house. His host was standing in the hall. + +"Where is your letter?" he asked, approaching Volgin; "I am just off." + +"I'm awfully sorry, I'll write it this minute, if you will let me. +I forgot all about it. It's so pleasant here that one can forget +anything." + +"All right, but do be quick. The horses have already been standing a +quarter of an hour, and the flies are biting viciously. Can you wait, +Arsenty?" he asked the coachman. + +"Why not?" said the coachman, thinking to himself, "why do they order +the horses when they aren't ready? The rush the grooms and I had--just +to stand here and feed the flies." + +"Directly, directly," Volgin went towards his room, but turned back to +ask Nicholas Petrovich about the begging peasant. + +"Did you see him?--He's a drunkard, but still he is to be pitied. Do be +quick!" + +Volgin got out his case, with all the requisites for writing, wrote the +letter, made out a cheque for a hundred and eighty roubles, and, sealing +down the envelope, took it to Nicholas Petrovich. + +"Good-bye." + +Volgin read the newspapers till luncheon. He only read the Liberal +papers: The Russian Gazette, Speech, sometimes The Russian Word--but he +would not touch The New Times, to which his host subscribed. + +While he was scanning at his ease the political news, the Tsar's doings, +the doings of President, and ministers and decisions in the Duma, +and was just about to pass on to the general news, theatres, science, +murders and cholera, he heard the luncheon bell ring. + +Thanks to the efforts of upwards of ten human beings--counting +laundresses, gardeners, cooks, kitchen-maids, butlers and footmen--the +table was sumptuously laid for eight, with silver waterjugs, decanters, +kvass, wine, mineral waters, cut glass, and fine table linen, while +two men-servants were continually hurrying to and fro, bringing in and +serving, and then clearing away the hors d'oeuvre and the various hot +and cold courses. + +The hostess talked incessantly about everything that she had been doing, +thinking, and saying; and she evidently considered that everything that +she thought, said, or did was perfect, and that it would please every +one except those who were fools. Volgin felt and knew that everything +she said was stupid, but it would never do to let it be seen, and so he +kept up the conversation. Theodorite was glum and silent; the student +occasionally exchanged a few words with the widow. Now and again there +was a pause in the conversation, and then Theodorite interposed, and +every one became miserably depressed. At such moments the hostess +ordered some dish that had not been served, and the footman hurried off +to the kitchen, or to the housekeeper, and hurried back again. Nobody +felt inclined either to talk or to eat. But they all forced themselves +to eat and to talk, and so luncheon went on. + +The peasant who had been begging because his horse had died was named +Mitri Sudarikov. He had spent the whole day before he went to the squire +over his dead horse. First of all he went to the knacker, Sanin, who +lived in a village near. The knacker was out, but he waited for him, and +it was dinner-time when he had finished bargaining over the price of the +skin. Then he borrowed a neighbour's horse to take his own to a field +to be buried, as it is forbidden to bury dead animals near a village. +Adrian would not lend his horse because he was getting in his potatoes, +but Stephen took pity on Mitri and gave way to his persuasion. He even +lent a hand in lifting the dead horse into the cart. Mitri tore off the +shoes from the forelegs and gave them to his wife. One was broken, but +the other one was whole. While he was digging the grave with a spade +which was very blunt, the knacker appeared and took off the skin; and +the carcass was then thrown into the hole and covered up. Mitri felt +tired, and went into Matrena's hut, where he drank half a bottle of +vodka with Sanin to console himself. Then he went home, quarrelled with +his wife, and lay down to sleep on the hay. He did not undress, but +slept just as he was, with a ragged coat for a coverlet. His wife was +in the hut with the girls--there were four of them, and the youngest was +only five weeks old. Mitri woke up before dawn as usual. He groaned +as the memory of the day before broke in upon him--how the horse had +struggled and struggled, and then fallen down. Now there was no horse, +and all he had was the price of the skin, four roubles and eighty +kopeks. Getting up he arranged the linen bands on his legs, and went +through the yard into the hut. His wife was putting straw into the stove +with one hand, with the other she was holding a baby girl to her breast, +which was hanging out of her dirty chemise. + +Mitri crossed himself three times, turning towards the corner in which +the ikons hung, and repeated some utterly meaningless words, which he +called prayers, to the Trinity and the Virgin, the Creed and our Father. + +"Isn't there any water?" + +"The girl's gone for it. I've got some tea. Will you go up to the +squire?" + +"Yes, I'd better." The smoke from the stove made him cough. He took a +rag off the wooden bench and went into the porch. The girl had just come +back with the water. Mitri filled his mouth with water from the pail and +squirted it out on his hands, took some more in his mouth to wash his +face, dried himself with the rag, then parted and smoothed his curly +hair with his fingers and went out. A little girl of about ten, with +nothing on but a dirty shirt, came towards him. "Good-morning, Uncle +Mitri," she said; "you are to come and thrash." "All right, I'll come," +replied Mitri. He understood that he was expected to return the help +given the week before by Kumushkir, a man as poor as he was himself, +when he was thrashing his own corn with a horse-driven machine. + +"Tell them I'll come--I'll come at lunch time. I've got to go to +Ugrumi." Mitri went back to the hut, and changing his birch-bark shoes +and the linen bands on his legs, started off to see the squire. After +he had got three roubles from Volgin, and the same sum from Nicholas +Petrovich, he returned to his house, gave the money to his wife, and +went to his neighbour's. The thrashing machine was humming, and the +driver was shouting. The lean horses were going slowly round him, +straining at their traces. The driver was shouting to them in a +monotone, "Now, there, my dears." Some women were unbinding sheaves, +others were raking up the scattered straw and ears, and others again +were gathering great armfuls of corn and handing them to the men to feed +the machine. The work was in full swing. In the kitchen garden, which +Mitri had to pass, a girl, clad only in a long shirt, was digging +potatoes which she put into a basket. + +"Where's your grandfather?" asked Mitri. "He's in the barn." Mitri went +to the barn and set to work at once. The old man of eighty knew of +Mitri's trouble. After greeting him, he gave him his place to feed the +machine. + +Mitri took off his ragged coat, laid it out of the way near the fence, +and then began to work vigorously, raking the corn together and throwing +it into the machine. The work went on without interruption until the +dinner-hour. The cocks had crowed two or three times, but no one paid +any attention to them; not because the workers did not believe them, but +because they were scarcely heard for the noise of the work and the talk +about it. At last the whistle of the squire's steam thrasher sounded +three miles away, and then the owner came into the barn. He was +a straight old man of eighty. "It's time to stop," he said; "it's +dinner-time." Those at work seemed to redouble their efforts. In a +moment the straw was cleared away; the grain that had been thrashed was +separated from the chaff and brought in, and then the workers went into +the hut. + +The hut was smoke-begrimed, as its stove had no chimney, but it had been +tidied up, and benches stood round the table, making room for all those +who had been working, of whom there were nine, not counting the owners. +Bread, soup, boiled potatoes, and kvass were placed on the table. + +An old one-armed beggar, with a bag slung over his shoulder, came in +with a crutch during the meal. + +"Peace be to this house. A good appetite to you. For Christ's sake give +me something." + +"God will give it to you," said the mistress, already an old woman, and +the daughter-in-law of the master. "Don't be angry with us." An old +man, who was still standing near the door, said, "Give him some bread, +Martha. How can you?" + +"I am only wondering whether we shall have enough." "Oh, it is wrong, +Martha. God tells us to help the poor. Cut him a slice." + +Martha obeyed. The beggar went away. The man in charge of the +thrashing-machine got up, said grace, thanked his hosts, and went away +to rest. + +Mitri did not lie down, but ran to the shop to buy some tobacco. He was +longing for a smoke. While he smoked he chatted to a man from Demensk, +asking the price of cattle, as he saw that he would not be able to +manage without selling a cow. When he returned to the others, they were +already back at work again; and so it went on till the evening. + +Among these downtrodden, duped, and defrauded men, who are becoming +demoralised by overwork, and being gradually done to death by +underfeeding, there are men living who consider themselves Christians; +and others so enlightened that they feel no further need for +Christianity or for any religion, so superior do they appear in their +own esteem. And yet their hideous, lazy lives are supported by the +degrading, excessive labour of these slaves, not to mention the labour +of millions of other slaves, toiling in factories to produce samovars, +silver, carriages, machines, and the like for their use. They live among +these horrors, seeing them and yet not seeing them, although often +kind at heart--old men and women, young men and maidens, mothers and +children--poor children who are being vitiated and trained into moral +blindness. + +Here is a bachelor grown old, the owner of thousands of acres, who has +lived a life of idleness, greed, and over-indulgence, who reads The +New Times, and is astonished that the government can be so unwise as to +permit Jews to enter the university. There is his guest, formerly the +governor of a province, now a senator with a big salary, who reads with +satisfaction that a congress of lawyers has passed a resolution in favor +of capital punishment. Their political enemy, N. P., reads a liberal +paper, and cannot understand the blindness of the government in allowing +the union of Russian men to exist. + +Here is a kind, gentle mother of a little girl reading a story to her +about Fox, a dog that lamed some rabbits. And here is this little girl. +During her walks she sees other children, barefooted, hungry, hunting +for green apples that have fallen from the trees; and, so accustomed is +she to the sight, that these children do not seem to her to be children +such as she is, but only part of the usual surroundings--the familiar +landscape. + +Why is this? + + + + +THE YOUNG TSAR + +THE young Tsar had just ascended the throne. For five weeks he had +worked without ceasing, in the way that Tsars are accustomed to work. He +had been attending to reports, signing papers, receiving ambassadors and +high officials who came to be presented to him, and reviewing troops. He +was tired, and as a traveller exhausted by heat and thirst longs for a +draught of water and for rest, so he longed for a respite of just one +day at least from receptions, from speeches, from parades--a few free +hours to spend like an ordinary human being with his young, clever, and +beautiful wife, to whom he had been married only a month before. + +It was Christmas Eve. The young Tsar had arranged to have a complete +rest that evening. The night before he had worked till very late at +documents which his ministers of state had left for him to examine. +In the morning he was present at the Te Deum, and then at a military +service. In the afternoon he received official visitors; and later he +had been obliged to listen to the reports of three ministers of state, +and had given his assent to many important matters. In his conference +with the Minister of Finance he had agreed to an increase of duties +on imported goods, which should in the future add many millions to the +State revenues. Then he sanctioned the sale of brandy by the Crown in +various parts of the country, and signed a decree permitting the sale of +alcohol in villages having markets. This was also calculated to increase +the principal revenue to the State, which was derived from the sale of +spirits. He had also approved of the issuing of a new gold loan required +for a financial negotiation. The Minister of justice having reported on +the complicated case of the succession of the Baron Snyders, the young +Tsar confirmed the decision by his signature; and also approved the new +rules relating to the application of Article 1830 of the penal code, +providing for the punishment of tramps. In his conference with the +Minister of the Interior he ratified the order concerning the collection +of taxes in arrears, signed the order settling what measures should be +taken in regard to the persecution of religious dissenters, and also one +providing for the continuance of martial law in those provinces where it +had already been established. With the Minister of War he arranged for +the nomination of a new Corps Commander for the raising of recruits, and +for punishment of breach of discipline. These things kept him occupied +till dinner-time, and even then his freedom was not complete. A number +of high officials had been invited to dinner, and he was obliged to talk +to them: not in the way he felt disposed to do, but according to what +he was expected to say. At last the tiresome dinner was over, and the +guests departed. + +The young Tsar heaved a sigh of relief, stretched himself and retired to +his apartments to take off his uniform with the decorations on it, and +to don the jacket he used to wear before his accession to the throne. +His young wife had also retired to take off her dinner-dress, remarking +that she would join him presently. + +When he had passed the row of footmen who were standing erect before +him, and reached his room; when he had thrown off his heavy uniform and +put on his jacket, the young Tsar felt glad to be free from work; +and his heart was filled with a tender emotion which sprang from the +consciousness of his freedom, of his joyous, robust young life, and of +his love. He threw himself on the sofa, stretched out his legs upon it, +leaned his head on his hand, fixed his gaze on the dull glass shade of +the lamp, and then a sensation which he had not experienced since his +childhood,--the pleasure of going to sleep, and a drowsiness that was +irresistible--suddenly came over him. + +"My wife will be here presently and will find me asleep. No, I must not +go to sleep," he thought. He let his elbow drop down, laid his cheek in +the palm of his hand, made himself comfortable, and was so utterly happy +that he only felt a desire not to be aroused from this delightful state. + +And then what happens to all of us every day happened to him--he fell +asleep without knowing himself when or how. He passed from one state +into another without his will having any share in it, without even +desiring it, and without regretting the state out of which he had +passed. He fell into a heavy sleep which was like death. How long he had +slept he did not know, but he was suddenly aroused by the soft touch of +a hand upon his shoulder. + +"It is my darling, it is she," he thought. "What a shame to have dozed +off!" + +But it was not she. Before his eyes, which were wide open and blinking +at the light, she, that charming and beautiful creature whom he was +expecting, did not stand, but HE stood. Who HE was the young Tsar did +not know, but somehow it did not strike him that he was a stranger whom +he had never seen before. It seemed as if he had known him for a long +time and was fond of him, and as if he trusted him as he would trust +himself. He had expected his beloved wife, but in her stead that man +whom he had never seen before had come. Yet to the young Tsar, who +was far from feeling regret or astonishment, it seemed not only a most +natural, but also a necessary thing to happen. + +"Come!" said the stranger. + +"Yes, let us go," said the young Tsar, not knowing where he was to go, +but quite aware that he could not help submitting to the command of the +stranger. "But how shall we go?" he asked. + +"In this way." + +The stranger laid his hand on the Tsar's head, and the Tsar for a moment +lost consciousness. He could not tell whether he had been unconscious a +long or a short time, but when he recovered his senses he found himself +in a strange place. The first thing he was aware of was a strong and +stifling smell of sewage. The place in which he stood was a broad +passage lit by the red glow of two dim lamps. Running along one side of +the passage was a thick wall with windows protected by iron gratings. +On the other side were doors secured with locks. In the passage stood +a soldier, leaning up against the wall, asleep. Through the doors the +young Tsar heard the muffled sound of living human beings: not of one +alone, but of many. HE was standing at the side of the young Tsar, and +pressing his shoulder slightly with his soft hand, pushed him to the +first door, unmindful of the sentry. The young Tsar felt he could not +do otherwise than yield, and approached the door. To his amazement +the sentry looked straight at him, evidently without seeing him, as +he neither straightened himself up nor saluted, but yawned loudly and, +lifting his hand, scratched the back of his neck. The door had a small +hole, and in obedience to the pressure of the hand that pushed him, +the young Tsar approached a step nearer and put his eye to the small +opening. Close to the door, the foul smell that stifled him was +stronger, and the young Tsar hesitated to go nearer, but the hand +pushed him on. He leaned forward, put his eye close to the opening, and +suddenly ceased to perceive the odour. The sight he saw deadened his +sense of smell. In a large room, about ten yards long and six yards +wide, there walked unceasingly from one end to the other, six men in +long grey coats, some in felt boots, some barefoot. There were over +twenty men in all in the room, but in that first moment the young Tsar +only saw those who were walking with quick, even, silent steps. It was a +horrid sight to watch the continual, quick, aimless movements of the men +who passed and overtook each other, turning sharply when they reached +the wall, never looking at one another, and evidently concentrated each +on his own thoughts. The young Tsar had observed a similar sight one +day when he was watching a tiger in a menagerie pacing rapidly with +noiseless tread from one end of his cage to the other, waving its tail, +silently turning when it reached the bars, and looking at nobody. Of +these men one, apparently a young peasant, with curly hair, would have +been handsome were it not for the unnatural pallor of his face, and the +concentrated, wicked, scarcely human, look in his eyes. Another was a +Jew, hairy and gloomy. The third was a lean old man, bald, with a beard +that had been shaven and had since grown like bristles. The fourth +was extraordinarily heavily built, with well-developed muscles, a low +receding forehead and a flat nose. The fifth was hardly more than a boy, +long, thin, obviously consumptive. The sixth was small and dark, with +nervous, convulsive movements. He walked as if he were skipping, +and muttered continuously to himself. They were all walking rapidly +backwards and forwards past the hole through which the young Tsar was +looking. He watched their faces and their gait with keen interest. +Having examined them closely, he presently became aware of a number of +other men at the back of the room, standing round, or lying on the shelf +that served as a bed. Standing close to the door he also saw the pail +which caused such an unbearable stench. On the shelf about ten men, +entirely covered with their cloaks, were sleeping. A red-haired man with +a huge beard was sitting sideways on the shelf, with his shirt off. He +was examining it, lifting it up to the light, and evidently catching +the vermin on it. Another man, aged and white as snow, stood with his +profile turned towards the door. He was praying, crossing himself, and +bowing low, apparently so absorbed in his devotions as to be oblivious +of all around him. + +"I see--this is a prison," thought the young Tsar. "They certainly +deserve pity. It is a dreadful life. But it cannot be helped. It is +their own fault." + +But this thought had hardly come into his head before HE, who was his +guide, replied to it. + +"They are all here under lock and key by your order. They have all been +sentenced in your name. But far from meriting their present condition +which is due to your human judgment, the greater part of them are far +better than you or those who were their judges and who keep them here. +This one"--he pointed to the handsome, curly-headed fellow--"is a +murderer. I do not consider him more guilty than those who kill in +war or in duelling, and are rewarded for their deeds. He had neither +education nor moral guidance, and his life had been cast among +thieves and drunkards. This lessens his guilt, but he has done wrong, +nevertheless, in being a murderer. He killed a merchant, to rob him. +The other man, the Jew, is a thief, one of a gang of thieves. That +uncommonly strong fellow is a horse-stealer, and guilty also, but +compared with others not as culpable. Look!"--and suddenly the young +Tsar found himself in an open field on a vast frontier. On the right +were potato fields; the plants had been rooted out, and were lying in +heaps, blackened by the frost; in alternate streaks were rows of winter +corn. In the distance a little village with its tiled roofs was visible; +on the left were fields of winter corn, and fields of stubble. No one +was to be seen on any side, save a black human figure in front at the +border-line, a gun slung on his back, and at his feet a dog. On the spot +where the young Tsar stood, sitting beside him, almost at his feet, was +a young Russian soldier with a green band on his cap, and with his +rifle slung over his shoulders, who was rolling up a paper to make a +cigarette. The soldier was obviously unaware of the presence of the +young Tsar and his companion, and had not heard them. He did now turn +round when the Tsar, who was standing directly over the soldier, +asked, "Where are we?" "On the Prussian frontier," his guide answered. +Suddenly, far away in front of them, a shot was fired. The soldier +jumped to his feet, and seeing two men running, bent low to the ground, +hastily put his tobacco into his pocket, and ran after one of them. +"Stop, or I'll shoot!" cried the soldier. The fugitive, without +stopping, turned his head and called out something evidently abusive or +blasphemous. + +"Damn you!" shouted the soldier, who put one foot a little forward and +stopped, after which, bending his head over his rifle, and raising his +right hand, he rapidly adjusted something, took aim, and, pointing the +gun in the direction of the fugitive, probably fired, although no sound +was heard. "Smokeless powder, no doubt," thought the young Tsar, and +looking after the fleeing man saw him take a few hurried steps, and +bending lower and lower, fall to the ground and crawl on his hands and +knees. At last he remained lying and did not move. The other fugitive, +who was ahead of him, turned round and ran back to the man who was lying +on the ground. He did something for him and then resumed his flight. + +"What does all this mean?" asked the Tsar. + +"These are the guards on the frontier, enforcing the revenue laws. That +man was killed to protect the revenues of the State." + +"Has he actually been killed?" + +The guide again laid his hand upon the head of the young Tsar, and again +the Tsar lost consciousness. When he had recovered his senses he found +himself in a small room--the customs office. The dead body of a man, +with a thin grizzled beard, an aquiline nose, and big eyes with the +eyelids closed, was lying on the floor. His arms were thrown asunder, +his feet bare, and his thick, dirty toes were turned up at right angles +and stuck out straight. He had a wound in his side, and on his ragged +cloth jacket, as well as on his blue shirt, were stains of clotted +blood, which had turned black save for a few red spots here and there. +A woman stood close to the wall, so wrapped up in shawls that her face +could scarcely be seen. Motionless she gazed at the aquiline nose, the +upturned feet, and the protruding eyeballs; sobbing and sighing, and +drying her tears at long, regular intervals. A pretty girl of thirteen +was standing at her mother's side, with her eyes and mouth wide open. +A boy of eight clung to his mother's skirt, and looked intensely at his +dead father without blinking. + +From a door near them an official, an officer, a doctor, and a clerk +with documents, entered. After them came a soldier, the one who had shot +the man. He stepped briskly along behind his superiors, but the instant +he saw the corpse he went suddenly pale, and quivered; and dropping his +head stood still. When the official asked him whether that was the man +who was escaping across the frontier, and at whom he had fired, he +was unable to answer. His lips trembled, and his face twitched. "The +s--s--s--" he began, but could not get out the words which he wanted to +say. "The same, your excellency." The officials looked at each other and +wrote something down. + +"You see the beneficial results of that same system!" + +In a room of sumptuous vulgarity two men sat drinking wine. One of them +was old and grey, the other a young Jew. The young Jew was holding a +roll of bank-notes in his hand, and was bargaining with the old man. He +was buying smuggled goods. + +"You've got 'em cheap," he said, smiling. + +"Yes--but the risk--" + +"This is indeed terrible," said the young Tsar; "but it cannot be +avoided. Such proceedings are necessary." + +His companion made no response, saying merely, "Let us move on," and +laid his hand again on the head of the Tsar. When the Tsar recovered +consciousness, he was standing in a small room lit by a shaded lamp. A +woman was sitting at the table sewing. A boy of eight was bending over +the table, drawing, with his feet doubled up under him in the armchair. +A student was reading aloud. The father and daughter of the family +entered the room noisily. + +"You signed the order concerning the sale of spirits," said the guide to +the Tsar. + +"Well?" said the woman. + +"He's not likely to live." + +"What's the matter with him?" + +"They've kept him drunk all the time." + +"It's not possible!" exclaimed the wife. + +"It's true. And the boy's only nine years old, that Vania Moroshkine." + +"What did you do to try to save him?" asked the wife. + +"I tried everything that could be done. I gave him an emetic and put a +mustard-plaster on him. He has every symptom of delirium tremens." + +"It's no wonder--the whole family are drunkards. Annisia is only a +little better than the rest, and even she is generally more or less +drunk," said the daughter. + +"And what about your temperance society?" the student asked his sister. + +"What can we do when they are given every opportunity of drinking? +Father tried to have the public-house shut up, but the law is against +him. And, besides, when I was trying to convince Vasily Ermiline that it +was disgraceful to keep a public-house and ruin the people with drink, +he answered very haughtily, and indeed got the better of me before the +crowd: 'But I have a license with the Imperial eagle on it. If there was +anything wrong in my business, the Tsar wouldn't have issued a decree +authorising it.' Isn't it terrible? The whole village has been drunk +for the last three days. And as for feast-days, it is simply horrible to +think of! It has been proved conclusively that alcohol does no good in +any case, but invariably does harm, and it has been demonstrated to be +an absolute poison. Then, ninety-nine per cent. of the crimes in the +world are committed through its influence. We all know how the standard +of morality and the general welfare improved at once in all the +countries where drinking has been suppressed--like Sweden and Finland, +and we know that it can be suppressed by exercising a moral influence +over the masses. But in our country the class which could exert that +influence--the Government, the Tsar and his officials--simply encourage +drink. Their main revenues are drawn from the continual drunkenness of +the people. They drink themselves--they are always drinking the health +of somebody: 'Gentlemen, the Regiment!' The preachers drink, the bishops +drink--" + +Again the guide touched the head of the young Tsar, who again lost +consciousness. This time he found himself in a peasant's cottage. +The peasant--a man of forty, with red face and blood-shot eyes--was +furiously striking the face of an old man, who tried in vain to protect +himself from the blows. The younger peasant seized the beard of the old +man and held it fast. + +"For shame! To strike your father--!" + +"I don't care, I'll kill him! Let them send me to Siberia, I don't +care!" + +The women were screaming. Drunken officials rushed into the cottage and +separated father and son. The father had an arm broken and the son's +beard was torn out. In the doorway a drunken girl was making violent +love to an old besotted peasant. + +"They are beasts!" said the young Tsar. + +Another touch of his guide's hand and the young Tsar awoke in a new +place. It was the office of the justice of the peace. A fat, bald-headed +man, with a double chin and a chain round his neck, had just risen from +his seat, and was reading the sentence in a loud voice, while a crowd +of peasants stood behind the grating. There was a woman in rags in the +crowd who did not rise. The guard gave her a push. + +"Asleep! I tell you to stand up!" The woman rose. + +"According to the decree of his Imperial Majesty--" the judge began +reading the sentence. The case concerned that very woman. She had taken +away half a bundle of oats as she was passing the thrashing-floor of +a landowner. The justice of the peace sentenced her to two months' +imprisonment. The landowner whose oats had been stolen was among the +audience. When the judge adjourned the court the landowner approached, +and shook hands, and the judge entered into conversation with him. The +next case was about a stolen samovar. Then there was a trial about +some timber which had been cut, to the detriment of the landowner. Some +peasants were being tried for having assaulted the constable of the +district. + +When the young Tsar again lost consciousness, he awoke to find himself +in the middle of a village, where he saw hungry, half-frozen children +and the wife of the man who had assaulted the constable broken down from +overwork. + +Then came a new scene. In Siberia, a tramp is being flogged with the +lash, the direct result of an order issued by the Minister of justice. +Again oblivion, and another scene. The family of a Jewish watchmaker +is evicted for being too poor. The children are crying, and the Jew, +Isaaks, is greatly distressed. At last they come to an arrangement, and +he is allowed to stay on in the lodgings. + +The chief of police takes a bribe. The governor of the province also +secretly accepts a bribe. Taxes are being collected. In the village, +while a cow is sold for payment, the police inspector is bribed by a +factory owner, who thus escapes taxes altogether. And again a village +court scene, and a sentence carried into execution--the lash! + +"Ilia Vasilievich, could you not spare me that?" + +"No." + +The peasant burst into tears. "Well, of course, Christ suffered, and He +bids us suffer too." + +Then other scenes. The Stundists--a sect--being broken up and dispersed; +the clergy refusing first to marry, then to bury a Protestant. Orders +given concerning the passage of the Imperial railway train. Soldiers +kept sitting in the mud--cold, hungry, and cursing. Decrees issued +relating to the educational institutions of the Empress Mary Department. +Corruption rampant in the foundling homes. An undeserved monument. +Thieving among the clergy. The reinforcement of the political police. +A woman being searched. A prison for convicts who are sentenced to be +deported. A man being hanged for murdering a shop assistant. + +Then the result of military discipline: soldiers wearing uniform and +scoffing at it. A gipsy encampment. The son of a millionaire exempted +from military duty, while the only support of a large family is forced +to serve. The university: a teacher relieved of military service, while +the most gifted musicians are compelled to perform it. Soldiers and +their debauchery--and the spreading of disease. + +Then a soldier who has made an attempt to desert. He is being tried. +Another is on trial for striking an officer who has insulted his mother. +He is put to death. Others, again, are tried for having refused to +shoot. The runaway soldier sent to a disciplinary battalion and flogged +to death. Another, who is guiltless, flogged, and his wounds sprinkled +with salt till he dies. One of the superior officers stealing money +belonging to the soldiers. Nothing but drunkenness, debauchery, +gambling, and arrogance on the part of the authorities. + +What is the general condition of the people: the children are +half-starving and degenerate; the houses are full of vermin; an +everlasting dull round of labour, of submission, and of sadness. On the +other hand: ministers, governors of provinces, covetous, ambitious, full +of vanity, and anxious to inspire fear. + +"But where are men with human feelings?" + +"I will show you where they are." + +Here is the cell of a woman in solitary confinement at Schlusselburg. +She is going mad. Here is another woman--a girl--indisposed, violated +by soldiers. A man in exile, alone, embittered, half-dead. A prison for +convicts condemned to hard labour, and women flogged. They are many. + +Tens of thousands of the best people. Some shut up in prisons, others +ruined by false education, by the vain desire to bring them up as we +wish. But not succeeding in this, whatever might have been is ruined +as well, for it is made impossible. It is as if we were trying to make +buckwheat out of corn sprouts by splitting the ears. One may spoil the +corn, but one could never change it to buckwheat. Thus all the youth of +the world, the entire younger generation, is being ruined. + +But woe to those who destroy one of these little ones, woe to you if you +destroy even one of them. On your soul, however, are hosts of them, +who have been ruined in your name, all of those over whom your power +extends. + +"But what can I do?" exclaimed the Tsar in despair. "I do not wish to +torture, to flog, to corrupt, to kill any one! I only want the welfare +of all. Just as I yearn for happiness myself, so I want the world to be +happy as well. Am I actually responsible for everything that is done +in my name? What can I do? What am I to do to rid myself of such a +responsibility? What can I do? I do not admit that the responsibility +for all this is mine. If I felt myself responsible for one-hundredth +part of it, I would shoot myself on the spot. It would not be possible +to live if that were true. But how can I put an end, to all this evil? +It is bound up with the very existence of the State. I am the head of +the State! What am I to do? Kill myself? Or abdicate? But that would +mean renouncing my duty. O God, O God, God, help me!" He burst into +tears and awoke. + +"How glad I am that it was only a dream," was his first thought. But +when he began to recollect what he had seen in his dream, and to compare +it with actuality, he realised that the problem propounded to him in +dream remained just as important and as insoluble now that he was +awake. For the first time the young Tsar became aware of the heavy +responsibility weighing on him, and was aghast. His thoughts no longer +turned to the young Queen and to the happiness he had anticipated for +that evening, but became centred on the unanswerable question which hung +over him: "What was to be done?" + +In a state of great agitation he arose and went into the next room. An +old courtier, a co-worker and friend of his father's, was standing there +in the middle of the room in conversation with the young Queen, who +was on her way to join her husband. The young Tsar approached them, and +addressing his conversation principally to the old courtier, told him +what he had seen in his dream and what doubts the dream had left in his +mind. + +"That is a noble idea. It proves the rare nobility of your spirit," said +the old man. "But forgive me for speaking frankly--you are too kind +to be an emperor, and you exaggerate your responsibility. In the first +place, the state of things is not as you imagine it to be. The people +are not poor. They are well-to-do. Those who are poor are poor through +their own fault. Only the guilty are punished, and if an unavoidable +mistake does sometimes occur, it is like a thunderbolt--an accident, or +the will of God. You have but one responsibility: to fulfil your task +courageously and to retain the power that is given to you. You wish the +best for your people and God sees that. As for the errors which you have +committed unwittingly, you can pray for forgiveness, and God will guide +you and pardon you. All the more because you have done nothing that +demands forgiveness, and there never have been and never will be men +possessed of such extraordinary qualities as you and your father. +Therefore all we implore you to do is to live, and to reward our endless +devotion and love with your favour, and every one, save scoundrels who +deserve no happiness, will be happy." + +"What do you think about that?" the young Tsar asked his wife. + +"I have a different opinion," said the clever young woman, who had been +brought up in a free country. "I am glad you had that dream, and I agree +with you that there are grave responsibilities resting upon you. I have +often thought about it with great anxiety, and I think there is a simple +means of casting off a part of the responsibility you are unable to +bear, if not all of it. A large proportion of the power which is +too heavy for you, you should delegate to the people, to its +representatives, reserving for yourself only the supreme control, that +is, the general direction of the affairs of State." + +The Queen had hardly ceased to expound her views, when the old courtier +began eagerly to refute her arguments, and they started a polite but +very heated discussion. + +For a time the young Tsar followed their arguments, but presently he +ceased to be aware of what they said, listening only to the voice of him +who had been his guide in the dream, and who was now speaking audibly in +his heart. + +"You are not only the Tsar," said the voice, "but more. You are a human +being, who only yesterday came into this world, and will perchance +to-morrow depart out of it. Apart from your duties as a Tsar, of which +that old man is now speaking, you have more immediate duties not by any +means to be disregarded; human duties, not the duties of a Tsar towards +his subjects, which are only accidental, but an eternal duty, the duty +of a man in his relation to God, the duty toward your own soul, which is +to save it, and also, to serve God in establishing his kingdom on earth. +You are not to be guarded in your actions either by what has been or +what will be, but only by what it is your own duty to do." + +***** + +He opened his eyes--his wife was awakening him. Which of the three +courses the young Tsar chose, will be told in fifty years. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Forged Coupon and Other Stories, by Leo Tolstoy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FORGED COUPON AND OTHER *** + +***** This file should be named 243.txt or 243.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/243/ + +Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Boyhood, by Leo Tolstoy + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Boyhood + +Author: Leo Tolstoy + +Translator: C.J. Hogarth + +Release Date: March 21, 2006 [EBook #2450] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOYHOOD *** + + + + +Produced by Martin Adamson and David Widger + + + + + +BOYHOOD + +By Leo Tolstoy + + +Translated by C.J. HOGARTH + + + + +I. A SLOW JOURNEY + +Again two carriages stood at the front door of the house at Petrovskoe. +In one of them sat Mimi, the two girls, and their maid, with the +bailiff, Jakoff, on the box, while in the other--a britchka--sat Woloda, +myself, and our servant Vassili. Papa, who was to follow us to Moscow in +a few days, was standing bareheaded on the entrance-steps. He made the +sign of the cross at the windows of the carriages, and said: + +"Christ go with you! Good-bye." + +Jakoff and our coachman (for we had our own horses) lifted their caps in +answer, and also made the sign of the cross. + +"Amen. God go with us!" + +The carriages began to roll away, and the birch-trees of the great +avenue filed out of sight. + +I was not in the least depressed on this occasion, for my mind was not +so much turned upon what I had left as upon what was awaiting me. In +proportion as the various objects connected with the sad recollections +which had recently filled my imagination receded behind me, those +recollections lost their power, and gave place to a consolatory feeling +of life, youthful vigour, freshness, and hope. + +Seldom have I spent four days more--well, I will not say gaily, since +I should still have shrunk from appearing gay--but more agreeably and +pleasantly than those occupied by our journey. + +No longer were my eyes confronted with the closed door of Mamma's room +(which I had never been able to pass without a pang), nor with the +covered piano (which nobody opened now, and at which I could never look +without trembling), nor with mourning dresses (we had each of us on our +ordinary travelling clothes), nor with all those other objects which +recalled to me so vividly our irreparable loss, and forced me to abstain +from any manifestation of merriment lest I should unwittingly offend +against HER memory. + +On the contrary, a continual succession of new and exciting objects +and places now caught and held my attention, and the charms of spring +awakened in my soul a soothing sense of satisfaction with the present +and of blissful hope for the future. + +Very early next morning the merciless Vassili (who had only just entered +our service, and was therefore, like most people in such a position, +zealous to a fault) came and stripped off my counterpane, affirming that +it was time for me to get up, since everything was in readiness for us +to continue our journey. Though I felt inclined to stretch myself and +rebel--though I would gladly have spent another quarter of an hour in +sweet enjoyment of my morning slumber--Vassili's inexorable face showed +that he would grant me no respite, but that he was ready to tear away +the counterpane twenty times more if necessary. Accordingly I submitted +myself to the inevitable and ran down into the courtyard to wash myself +at the fountain. + +In the coffee-room, a tea-kettle was already surmounting the fire which +Milka the ostler, as red in the face as a crab, was blowing with a pair +of bellows. All was grey and misty in the courtyard, like steam from a +smoking dunghill, but in the eastern sky the sun was diffusing a clear, +cheerful radiance, and making the straw roofs of the sheds around the +courtyard sparkle with the night dew. Beneath them stood our horses, +tied to mangers, and I could hear the ceaseless sound of their chewing. +A curly-haired dog which had been spending the night on a dry dunghill +now rose in lazy fashion and, wagging its tail, walked slowly across the +courtyard. + +The bustling landlady opened the creaking gates, turned her meditative +cows into the street (whence came the lowing and bellowing of other +cattle), and exchanged a word or two with a sleepy neighbour. Philip, +with his shirt-sleeves rolled up, was working the windlass of a +draw-well, and sending sparkling fresh water coursing into an oaken +trough, while in the pool beneath it some early-rising ducks were taking +a bath. It gave me pleasure to watch his strongly-marked, bearded face, +and the veins and muscles as they stood out upon his great powerful +hands whenever he made an extra effort. In the room behind the +partition-wall where Mimi and the girls had slept (yet so near to +ourselves that we had exchanged confidences overnight) movements now +became audible, their maid kept passing in and out with clothes, and, at +last the door opened and we were summoned to breakfast. Woloda, however, +remained in a state of bustle throughout as he ran to fetch first one +article and then another and urged the maid to hasten her preparations. + +The horses were put to, and showed their impatience by tinkling their +bells. Parcels, trunks, dressing-cases, and boxes were replaced, and we +set about taking our seats. Yet, every time that we got in, the mountain +of luggage in the britchka seemed to have grown larger than before, and +we had much ado to understand how things had been arranged yesterday, +and how we should sit now. A tea-chest, in particular, greatly +inconvenienced me, but Vassili declared that "things will soon right +themselves," and I had no choice but to believe him. + +The sun was just rising, covered with dense white clouds, and every +object around us was standing out in a cheerful, calm sort of radiance. +The whole was beautiful to look at, and I felt comfortable and light of +heart. + +Before us the road ran like a broad, sinuous ribbon through cornfields +glittering with dew. Here and there a dark bush or young birch-tree cast +a long shadow over the ruts and scattered grass-tufts of the track. Yet +even the monotonous din of our carriage-wheels and collar-bells could +not drown the joyous song of soaring larks, nor the combined odour of +moth-eaten cloth, dust, and sourness peculiar to our britchka overpower +the fresh scents of the morning. I felt in my heart that delightful +impulse to be up and doing which is a sign of sincere enjoyment. + +As I had not been able to say my prayers in the courtyard of the inn, +but had nevertheless been assured once that on the very first day when +I omitted to perform that ceremony some misfortune would overtake me, +I now hastened to rectify the omission. Taking off my cap, and stooping +down in a corner of the britchka, I duly recited my orisons, and +unobtrusively signed the sign of the cross beneath my coat. Yet all the +while a thousand different objects were distracting my attention, and +more than once I inadvertently repeated a prayer twice over. + +Soon on the little footpath beside the road became visible some slowly +moving figures. They were pilgrims. On their heads they had dirty +handkerchiefs, on their backs wallets of birch-bark, and on their feet +bundles of soiled rags and heavy bast shoes. Moving their staffs in +regular rhythm, and scarcely throwing us a glance, they pressed onwards +with heavy tread and in single file. + +"Where have they come from?" I wondered to myself, "and whither are they +bound? Is it a long pilgrimage they are making?" But soon the shadows +they cast on the road became indistinguishable from the shadows of the +bushes which they passed. + +Next a carriage-and-four could be seen approaching us. In two seconds +the faces which looked out at us from it with smiling curiosity had +vanished. How strange it seemed that those faces should have nothing +in common with me, and that in all probability they would never meet my +eyes again! + +Next came a pair of post-horses, with the traces looped up to their +collars. On one of them a young postillion-his lamb's wool cap cocked to +one side-was negligently kicking his booted legs against the flanks +of his steed as he sang a melancholy ditty. Yet his face and attitude +seemed to me to express such perfect carelessness and indolent ease that +I imagined it to be the height of happiness to be a postillion and to +sing melancholy songs. + +Far off, through a cutting in the road, there soon stood out against +the light-blue sky, the green roof of a village church. Presently the +village itself became visible, together with the roof of the manor-house +and the garden attached to it. Who lived in that house? Children, +parents, teachers? Why should we not call there and make the +acquaintance of its inmates? + +Next we overtook a file of loaded waggons--a procession to which our +vehicles had to yield the road. + +"What have you got in there?" asked Vassili of one waggoner who was +dangling his legs lazily over the splashboard of his conveyance and +flicking his whip about as he gazed at us with a stolid, vacant look; +but he only made answer when we were too far off to catch what he said. + +"And what have YOU got?" asked Vassili of a second waggoner who was +lying at full length under a new rug on the driving-seat of his vehicle. +The red poll and red face beneath it lifted themselves up for a +second from the folds of the rug, measured our britchka with a cold, +contemptuous look, and lay down again; whereupon I concluded that the +driver was wondering to himself who we were, whence we had come, and +whither we were going. + +These various objects of interest had absorbed so much of my time that, +as yet, I had paid no attention to the crooked figures on the verst +posts as we passed them in rapid succession; but in time the sun began +to burn my head and back, the road to become increasingly dusty, the +impedimenta in the carriage to grow more and more uncomfortable, and +myself to feel more and more cramped. Consequently, I relapsed into +devoting my whole faculties to the distance-posts and their numerals, +and to solving difficult mathematical problems for reckoning the time +when we should arrive at the next posting-house. + +"Twelve versts are a third of thirty-six, and in all there are forty-one +to Lipetz. We have done a third and how much, then?", and so forth, and +so forth. + +"Vassili," was my next remark, on observing that he was beginning to nod +on the box-seat, "suppose we change seats? Will you?" Vassili agreed, +and had no sooner stretched himself out in the body of the vehicle than +he began to snore. To me on my new perch, however, a most interesting +spectacle now became visible--namely, our horses, all of which were +familiar to me down to the smallest detail. + +"Why is Diashak on the right today, Philip, not on the left?" I asked +knowingly. "And Nerusinka is not doing her proper share of the pulling." + +"One could not put Diashak on the left," replied Philip, altogether +ignoring my last remark. "He is not the kind of horse to put there at +all. A horse like the one on the left now is the right kind of one for +the job." + +After this fragment of eloquence, Philip turned towards Diashak and +began to do his best to worry the poor animal by jogging at the reins, +in spite of the fact that Diashak was doing well and dragging the +vehicle almost unaided. This Philip continued to do until he found it +convenient to breathe and rest himself awhile and to settle his cap +askew, though it had looked well enough before. + +I profited by the opportunity to ask him to let me have the reins +to hold, until, the whole six in my hand, as well as the whip, I had +attained complete happiness. Several times I asked whether I was doing +things right, but, as usual, Philip was never satisfied, and soon +destroyed my felicity. + +The heat increased until a hand showed itself at the carriage window, +and waved a bottle and a parcel of eatables; whereupon Vassili leapt +briskly from the britchka, and ran forward to get us something to eat +and drink. + +When we arrived at a steep descent, we all got out and ran down it to +a little bridge, while Vassili and Jakoff followed, supporting the +carriage on either side, as though to hold it up in the event of its +threatening to upset. + +After that, Mimi gave permission for a change of seats, and sometimes +Woloda or myself would ride in the carriage, and Lubotshka or Katenka +in the britchka. This arrangement greatly pleased the girls, since much +more fun went on in the britchka. Just when the day was at its hottest, +we got out at a wood, and, breaking off a quantity of branches, +transformed our vehicle into a bower. This travelling arbour then +bustled on to catch the carriage up, and had the effect of exciting +Lubotshka to one of those piercing shrieks of delight which she was in +the habit of occasionally emitting. + +At last we drew near the village where we were to halt and dine. Already +we could perceive the smell of the place--the smell of smoke and tar +and sheep-and distinguish the sound of voices, footsteps, and carts. The +bells on our horses began to ring less clearly than they had done in +the open country, and on both sides the road became lined with +huts--dwellings with straw roofs, carved porches, and small red or green +painted shutters to the windows, through which, here and there, was a +woman's face looking inquisitively out. Peasant children clad in smocks +only stood staring open-eyed or, stretching out their arms to us, ran +barefooted through the dust to climb on to the luggage behind, despite +Philip's menacing gestures. Likewise, red-haired waiters came darting +around the carriages to invite us, with words and signs, to select their +several hostelries as our halting-place. + +Presently a gate creaked, and we entered a courtyard. Four hours of rest +and liberty now awaited us. + + + + +II. THE THUNDERSTORM + +The sun was sinking towards the west, and his long, hot rays were +burning my neck and cheeks beyond endurance, while thick clouds of dust +were rising from the road and filling the whole air. Not the slightest +wind was there to carry it away. I could not think what to do. Neither +the dust-blackened face of Woloda dozing in a corner, nor the motion of +Philip's back, nor the long shadow of our britchka as it came bowling +along behind us brought me any relief. I concentrated my whole attention +upon the distance-posts ahead and the clouds which, hitherto dispersed +over the sky, were now assuming a menacing blackness, and beginning to +form themselves into a single solid mass. + +From time to time distant thunder could be heard--a circumstance which +greatly increased my impatience to arrive at the inn where we were +to spend the night. A thunderstorm always communicated to me an +inexpressibly oppressive feeling of fear and gloom. + +Yet we were still ten versts from the next village, and in the meanwhile +the large purple cloudbank--arisen from no one knows where--was +advancing steadily towards us. The sun, not yet obscured, was picking +out its fuscous shape with dazzling light, and marking its front with +grey stripes running right down to the horizon. At intervals, vivid +lightning could be seen in the distance, followed by low rumbles which +increased steadily in volume until they merged into a prolonged roll +which seemed to embrace the entire heavens. At length, Vassili got up +and covered over the britchka, the coachman wrapped himself up in +his cloak and lifted his cap to make the sign of the cross at each +successive thunderclap, and the horses pricked up their ears and +snorted as though to drink in the fresh air which the flying clouds were +outdistancing. The britchka began to roll more swiftly along the dusty +road, and I felt uneasy, and as though the blood were coursing more +quickly through my veins. Soon the clouds had veiled the face of +the sun, and though he threw a last gleam of light to the dark and +terrifying horizon, he had no choice but to disappear behind them. + +Suddenly everything around us seemed changed, and assumed a gloomy +aspect. A wood of aspen trees which we were passing seemed to be all +in a tremble, with its leaves showing white against the dark lilac +background of the clouds, murmuring together in an agitated manner. The +tops of the larger trees began to bend to and fro, and dried leaves +and grass to whirl about in eddies over the road. Swallows and +white-breasted swifts came darting around the britchka and even passing +in front of the forelegs of the horses. While rooks, despite their +outstretched wings, were laid, as it were, on their keels by the wind. +Finally, the leather apron which covered us began to flutter about and +to beat against the sides of the conveyance. + +The lightning flashed right into the britchka as, cleaving the obscurity +for a second, it lit up the grey cloth and silk galloon of the lining +and Woloda's figure pressed back into a corner. + +Next came a terrible sound which, rising higher and higher, and +spreading further and further, increased until it reached its climax in +a deafening thunderclap which made us tremble and hold our breaths. "The +wrath of God"--what poetry there is in that simple popular conception! + +The pace of the vehicle was continually increasing, and from Philip's +and Vassili's backs (the former was tugging furiously at the reins) I +could see that they too were alarmed. + +Bowling rapidly down an incline, the britchka cannoned violently against +a wooden bridge at the bottom. I dared not stir and expected destruction +every moment. + +Crack! A trace had given way, and, in spite of the ceaseless, deafening +thunderclaps, we had to pull up on the bridge. + +Leaning my head despairingly against the side of the britchka, I +followed with a beating heart the movements of Philip's great black +fingers as he tied up the broken trace and, with hands and the butt-end +of the whip, pushed the harness vigorously back into its place. + +My sense of terror was increasing with the violence of the thunder. +Indeed, at the moment of supreme silence which generally precedes the +greatest intensity of a storm, it mounted to such a height that I felt +as though another quarter of an hour of this emotion would kill me. + +Just then there appeared from beneath the bridge a human being who, clad +in a torn, filthy smock, and supported on a pair of thin shanks bare of +muscles, thrust an idiotic face, a tremulous, bare, shaven head, and a +pair of red, shining stumps in place of hands into the britchka. + +"M-my lord! A copeck for--for God's sake!" groaned a feeble voice as +at each word the wretched being made the sign of the cross and bowed +himself to the ground. + +I cannot describe the chill feeling of horror which penetrated my heart +at that moment. A shudder crept through all my hair, and my eyes stared +in vacant terror at the outcast. + +Vassili, who was charged with the apportioning of alms during the +journey, was busy helping Philip, and only when everything had been put +straight and Philip had resumed the reins again had he time to look for +his purse. Hardly had the britchka begun to move when a blinding flash +filled the welkin with a blaze of light which brought the horses to +their haunches. Then, the flash was followed by such an ear-splitting +roar that the very vault of heaven seemed to be descending upon our +heads. The wind blew harder than ever, and Vassili's cloak, the manes +and tails of the horses, and the carriage-apron were all slanted in one +direction as they waved furiously in the violent blast. + +Presently, upon the britchka's top there fell some large drops of +rain--"one, two, three:" then suddenly, and as though a roll of drums +were being beaten over our heads, the whole countryside resounded with +the clatter of the deluge. + +From Vassili's movements, I could see that he had now got his purse +open, and that the poor outcast was still bowing and making the sign of +the cross as he ran beside the wheels of the vehicle, at the imminent +risk of being run over, and reiterated from time to time his plea, +"For-for God's sake!" At last a copeck rolled upon the ground, and the +miserable creature--his mutilated arms, with their sleeves wet through +and through, held out before him--stopped perplexed in the roadway and +vanished from my sight. + +The heavy rain, driven before the tempestuous wind, poured down in +pailfuls and, dripping from Vassili's thick cloak, formed a series of +pools on the apron. The dust became changed to a paste which clung to +the wheels, and the ruts became transformed into muddy rivulets. + +At last, however, the lightning grew paler and more diffuse, and the +thunderclaps lost some of their terror amid the monotonous rattling +of the downpour. Then the rain also abated, and the clouds began to +disperse. In the region of the sun, a lightness appeared, and between +the white-grey clouds could be caught glimpses of an azure sky. + +Finally, a dazzling ray shot across the pools on the road, shot through +the threads of rain--now falling thin and straight, as from a sieve--, +and fell upon the fresh leaves and blades of grass. The great cloud was +still louring black and threatening on the far horizon, but I no longer +felt afraid of it--I felt only an inexpressibly pleasant hopefulness in +proportion, as trust in life replaced the late burden of fear. Indeed, +my heart was smiling like that of refreshed, revivified Nature herself. + +Vassili took off his cloak and wrung the water from it. Woloda flung +back the apron, and I stood up in the britchka to drink in the new, +fresh, balm-laden air. In front of us was the carriage, rolling along +and looking as wet and resplendent in the sunlight as though it had just +been polished. On one side of the road boundless oatfields, intersected +in places by small ravines which now showed bright with their moist +earth and greenery, stretched to the far horizon like a checkered +carpet, while on the other side of us an aspen wood, intermingled with +hazel bushes, and parquetted with wild thyme in joyous profusion, no +longer rustled and trembled, but slowly dropped rich, sparkling diamonds +from its newly-bathed branches on to the withered leaves of last year. + +From above us, from every side, came the happy songs of little birds +calling to one another among the dripping brushwood, while clear from +the inmost depths of the wood sounded the voice of the cuckoo. So +delicious was the wondrous scent of the wood, the scent which follows +a thunderstorm in spring, the scent of birch-trees, violets, mushrooms, +and thyme, that I could no longer remain in the britchka. Jumping out, +I ran to some bushes, and, regardless of the showers of drops discharged +upon me, tore off a few sprigs of thyme, and buried my face in them to +smell their glorious scent. + +Then, despite the mud which had got into my boots, as also the fact that +my stockings were soaked, I went skipping through the puddles to the +window of the carriage. + +"Lubotshka! Katenka!" I shouted as I handed them some of the thyme, +"Just look how delicious this is!" + +The girls smelt it and cried, "A-ah!" but Mimi shrieked to me to go +away, for fear I should be run over by the wheels. + +"Oh, but smell how delicious it is!" I persisted. + + + + +III. A NEW POINT OF VIEW + +Katenka was with me in the britchka; her lovely head inclined as she +gazed pensively at the roadway. I looked at her in silence and wondered +what had brought the unchildlike expression of sadness to her face which +I now observed for the first time there. + +"We shall soon be in Moscow," I said at last. "How large do you suppose +it is?" + +"I don't know," she replied. + +"Well, but how large do you IMAGINE? As large as Serpukhov?" + +"What do you say?" + +"Nothing." + +Yet the instinctive feeling which enables one person to guess the +thoughts of another and serves as a guiding thread in conversation +soon made Katenka feel that her indifference was disagreeable to me; +wherefore she raised her head presently, and, turning round, said: + +"Did your Papa tell you that we girls too were going to live at your +Grandmamma's?" + +"Yes, he said that we should ALL live there." + +"ALL live there?" + +"Yes, of course. We shall have one half of the upper floor, and you the +other half, and Papa the wing; but we shall all of us dine together with +Grandmamma downstairs." + +"But Mamma says that your Grandmamma is so very grave and so easily made +angry?" + +"No, she only SEEMS like that at first. She is grave, but not +bad-tempered. On the contrary, she is both kind and cheerful. If you +could only have seen the ball at her house!" + +"All the same, I am afraid of her. Besides, who knows whether we--" + +Katenka stopped short, and once again became thoughtful. + +"What?" I asked with some anxiety. + +"Nothing, I only said that--" + +"No. You said, 'Who knows whether we--'" + +"And YOU said, didn't you, that once there was ever such a ball at +Grandmamma's?" + +"Yes. It is a pity you were not there. There were heaps of guests--about +a thousand people, and all of them princes or generals, and there was +music, and I danced--But, Katenka" I broke off, "you are not listening +to me?" + +"Oh yes, I am listening. You said that you danced--?" + +"Why are you so serious?" + +"Well, one cannot ALWAYS be gay." + +"But you have changed tremendously since Woloda and I first went +to Moscow. Tell me the truth, now: why are you so odd?" My tone was +resolute. + +"AM I so odd?" said Katenka with an animation which showed me that my +question had interested her. "I don't see that I am so at all." + +"Well, you are not the same as you were before," I continued. "Once upon +a time any one could see that you were our equal in everything, and that +you loved us like relations, just as we did you; but now you are always +serious, and keep yourself apart from us." + +"Oh, not at all." + +"But let me finish, please," I interrupted, already conscious of a +slight tickling in my nose--the precursor of the tears which usually +came to my eyes whenever I had to vent any long pent-up feeling. "You +avoid us, and talk to no one but Mimi, as though you had no wish for our +further acquaintance." + +"But one cannot always remain the same--one must change a little +sometimes," replied Katenka, who had an inveterate habit of pleading +some such fatalistic necessity whenever she did not know what else to +say. + +I recollect that once, when having a quarrel with Lubotshka, who had +called her "a stupid girl," she (Katenka) retorted that EVERYBODY +could not be wise, seeing that a certain number of stupid people was +a necessity in the world. However, on the present occasion, I was not +satisfied that any such inevitable necessity for "changing sometimes" +existed, and asked further: + +"WHY is it necessary?" + +"Well, you see, we MAY not always go on living together as we are doing +now," said Katenka, colouring slightly, and regarding Philip's back with +a grave expression on her face. "My Mamma was able to live with your +mother because she was her friend; but will a similar arrangement always +suit the Countess, who, they say, is so easily offended? Besides, in +any case, we shall have to separate SOME day. You are rich--you have +Petrovskoe, while we are poor--Mamma has nothing." + +"You are rich," "we are poor"--both the words and the ideas which they +connoted seemed to me extremely strange. Hitherto, I had conceived that +only beggars and peasants were poor and could not reconcile in my mind +the idea of poverty and the graceful, charming Katenka. I felt that Mimi +and her daughter ought to live with us ALWAYS and to share everything +that we possessed. Things ought never to be otherwise. Yet, at this +moment, a thousand new thoughts with regard to their lonely position +came crowding into my head, and I felt so remorseful at the notion +that we were rich and they poor, that I coloured up and could not look +Katenka in the face. + +"Yet what does it matter," I thought, "that we are well off and they are +not? Why should that necessitate a separation? Why should we not share +in common what we possess?" Yet, I had a feeling that I could not talk +to Katenka on the subject, since a certain practical instinct, opposed +to all logical reasoning, warned me that, right though she possibly was, +I should do wrong to tell her so. + +"It is impossible that you should leave us. How could we ever live +apart?" + +"Yet what else is there to be done? Certainly I do not WANT to do it; +yet, if it HAS to be done, I know what my plan in life will be." + +"Yes, to become an actress! How absurd!" I exclaimed (for I knew that to +enter that profession had always been her favourite dream). + +"Oh no. I only used to say that when I was a little girl." + +"Well, then? What?" + +"To go into a convent and live there. Then I could walk out in a black +dress and velvet cap!" cried Katenka. + +Has it ever befallen you, my readers, to become suddenly aware that your +conception of things has altered--as though every object in life +had unexpectedly turned a side towards you of which you had hitherto +remained unaware? Such a species of moral change occurred, as regards +myself, during this journey, and therefore from it I date the beginning +of my boyhood. For the first time in my life, I then envisaged the idea +that we--i.e. our family--were not the only persons in the world; that +not every conceivable interest was centred in ourselves; and that there +existed numbers of people who had nothing in common with us, cared +nothing for us, and even knew nothing of our existence. No doubt I had +known all this before--only I had not known it then as I knew it now; I +had never properly felt or understood it. + +Thought merges into conviction through paths of its own, as well as, +sometimes, with great suddenness and by methods wholly different from +those which have brought other intellects to the same conclusion. For me +the conversation with Katenka--striking deeply as it did, and forcing me +to reflect on her future position--constituted such a path. As I gazed +at the towns and villages through which we passed, and in each house of +which lived at least one family like our own, as well as at the women +and children who stared with curiosity at our carriages and then became +lost to sight for ever, and the peasants and workmen who did not even +look at us, much less make us any obeisance, the question arose for the +first time in my thoughts, "Whom else do they care for if not for us?" +And this question was followed by others, such as, "To what end do +they live?" "How do they educate their children?" "Do they teach their +children and let them play? What are their names?" and so forth. + + + + +IV. IN MOSCOW + +From the time of our arrival in Moscow, the change in my conception of +objects, of persons, and of my connection with them became increasingly +perceptible. When at my first meeting with Grandmamma, I saw her thin, +wrinkled face and faded eyes, the mingled respect and fear with which +she had hitherto inspired me gave place to compassion, and when, laying +her cheek against Lubotshka's head, she sobbed as though she saw before +her the corpse of her beloved daughter, my compassion grew to love. + +I felt deeply sorry to see her grief at our meeting, even though I knew +that in ourselves we represented nothing in her eyes, but were dear to +her only as reminders of our mother--that every kiss which she imprinted +upon my cheeks expressed the one thought, "She is no more--she is dead, +and I shall never see her again." + +Papa, who took little notice of us here in Moscow, and whose face was +perpetually preoccupied on the rare occasions when he came in his black +dress-coat to take formal dinner with us, lost much in my eyes at this +period, in spite of his turned-up ruffles, robes de chambre, overseers, +bailiffs, expeditions to the estate, and hunting exploits. + +Karl Ivanitch--whom Grandmamma always called "Uncle," and who (Heaven +knows why!) had taken it into his head to adorn the bald pate of my +childhood's days with a red wig parted in the middle--now looked to me +so strange and ridiculous that I wondered how I could ever have failed +to observe the fact before. Even between the girls and ourselves there +seemed to have sprung up an invisible barrier. They, too, began to have +secrets among themselves, as well as to evince a desire to show off +their ever-lengthening skirts even as we boys did our trousers and +ankle-straps. As for Mimi, she appeared at luncheon, the first Sunday, +in such a gorgeous dress and with so many ribbons in her cap that it was +clear that we were no longer en campagne, and that everything was now +going to be different. + + + + +V. MY ELDER BROTHER + +I was only a year and some odd months younger than Woloda, and from the +first we had grown up and studied and played together. Hitherto, the +difference between elder and younger brother had never been felt between +us, but at the period of which I am speaking, I began to have a +notion that I was not Woloda's equal either in years, in tastes, or in +capabilities. I even began to fancy that Woloda himself was aware of +his superiority and that he was proud of it, and, though, perhaps, I +was wrong, the idea wounded my conceit--already suffering from frequent +comparison with him. He was my superior in everything--in games, in +studies, in quarrels, and in deportment. All this brought about an +estrangement between us and occasioned me moral sufferings which I had +never hitherto experienced. + +When for the first time Woloda wore Dutch pleated shirts, I at once said +that I was greatly put out at not being given similar ones, and each +time that he arranged his collar, I felt that he was doing so on purpose +to offend me. But, what tormented me most of all was the idea that +Woloda could see through me, yet did not choose to show it. + +Who has not known those secret, wordless communications which spring +from some barely perceptible smile or movement--from a casual glance +between two persons who live as constantly together as do brothers, +friends, man and wife, or master and servant--particularly if those +two persons do not in all things cultivate mutual frankness? How many +half-expressed wishes, thoughts, and meanings which one shrinks from +revealing are made plain by a single accidental glance which timidly and +irresolutely meets the eye! + +However, in my own case I may have been deceived by my excessive +capacity for, and love of, analysis. Possibly Woloda did not feel at +all as I did. Passionate and frank, but unstable in his likings, he was +attracted by the most diverse things, and always surrendered himself +wholly to such attraction. For instance, he suddenly conceived a passion +for pictures, spent all his money on their purchase, begged Papa, +Grandmamma, and his drawing master to add to their number, and applied +himself with enthusiasm to art. Next came a sudden rage for curios, with +which he covered his table, and for which he ransacked the whole house. +Following upon that, he took to violent novel-reading--procuring such +works by stealth, and devouring them day and night. Involuntarily I was +influenced by his whims, for, though too proud to imitate him, I was +also too young and too lacking in independence to choose my own way. +Above all, I envied Woloda his happy, nobly frank character, which +showed itself most strikingly when we quarrelled. I always felt that +he was in the right, yet could not imitate him. For instance, on one +occasion when his passion for curios was at its height, I went to his +table and accidentally broke an empty many-coloured smelling-bottle. + +"Who gave you leave to touch my things?" asked Woloda, chancing to enter +the room at that moment and at once perceiving the disorder which I had +occasioned in the orderly arrangement of the treasures on his table. +"And where is that smelling bottle? Perhaps you--?" + +"I let it fall, and it smashed to pieces; but what does that matter?" + +"Well, please do me the favour never to DARE to touch my things again," +he said as he gathered up the broken fragments and looked at them +vexedly. + +"And will YOU please do me the favour never to ORDER me to do anything +whatever," I retorted. "When a thing's broken, it's broken, and there is +no more to be said." Then I smiled, though I hardly felt like smiling. + +"Oh, it may mean nothing to you, but to me it means a good deal," said +Woloda, shrugging his shoulders (a habit he had caught from Papa). +"First of all you go and break my things, and then you laugh. What a +nuisance a little boy can be!" + +"LITTLE boy, indeed? Then YOU, I suppose, are a man, and ever so wise?" + +"I do not intend to quarrel with you," said Woloda, giving me a slight +push. "Go away." + +"Don't you push me!" + +"Go away." + +"I say again--don't you push me!" + +Woloda took me by the hand and tried to drag me away from the table, but +I was excited to the last degree, and gave the table such a push with +my foot that I upset the whole concern, and brought china and crystal +ornaments and everything else with a crash to the floor. + +"You disgusting little brute!" exclaimed Woloda, trying to save some of +his falling treasures. + +"At last all is over between us," I thought to myself as I strode from +the room. "We are separated now for ever." + +It was not until evening that we again exchanged a word. Yet I felt +guilty, and was afraid to look at him, and remained at a loose end all +day. + +Woloda, on the contrary, did his lessons as diligently as ever, and +passed the time after luncheon in talking and laughing with the girls. +As soon, again, as afternoon lessons were over I left the room, for +it would have been terribly embarrassing for me to be alone with my +brother. When, too, the evening class in history was ended I took my +notebook and moved towards the door. Just as I passed Woloda, I pouted +and pulled an angry face, though in reality I should have liked to have +made my peace with him. At the same moment he lifted his head, and with +a barely perceptible and good-humouredly satirical smile looked me full +in the face. Our eyes met, and I saw that he understood me, while he, +for his part, saw that I knew that he understood me; yet a feeling +stronger than myself obliged me to turn away from him. + +"Nicolinka," he said in a perfectly simple and anything but +mock-pathetic way, "you have been angry with me long enough. I am sorry +if I offended you," and he tendered me his hand. + +It was as though something welled up from my heart and nearly choked +me. Presently it passed away, the tears rushed to my eyes, and I felt +immensely relieved. + +"I too am so-rry, Wo-lo-da," I said, taking his hand. Yet he only looked +at me with an expression as though he could not understand why there +should be tears in my eyes. + + + + +VI. MASHA + +None of the changes produced in my conception of things were so striking +as the one which led me to cease to see in one of our chambermaids a +mere servant of the female sex, but, on the contrary, a WOMAN upon whom +depended, to a certain extent, my peace of mind and happiness. From the +time of my earliest recollection I can remember Masha an inmate of our +house, yet never until the occurrence of which I am going to speak--an +occurrence which entirely altered my impression of her--had I bestowed +the smallest attention upon her. She was twenty-five years old, while I +was but fourteen. Also, she was very beautiful. But I hesitate to give a +further description of her lest my imagination should once more picture +the bewitching, though deceptive, conception of her which filled my mind +during the period of my passion. To be frank, I will only say that she +was extraordinarily handsome, magnificently developed, and a woman--as +also that I was but fourteen. + +At one of those moments when, lesson-book in hand, I would pace the +room, and try to keep strictly to one particular crack in the floor as I +hummed a fragment of some tune or repeated some vague formula--in +short, at one of those moments when the mind leaves off thinking and the +imagination gains the upper hand and yearns for new impressions--I left +the schoolroom, and turned, with no definite purpose in view, towards +the head of the staircase. + +Somebody in slippers was ascending the second flight of stairs. Of +course I felt curious to see who it was, but the footsteps ceased +abruptly, and then I heard Masha's voice say: + +"Go away! What nonsense! What would Maria Ivanovna think if she were to +come now?" + +"Oh, but she will not come," answered Woloda's voice in a whisper. + +"Well, go away, you silly boy," and Masha came running up, and fled past +me. + +I cannot describe the way in which this discovery confounded me. +Nevertheless the feeling of amazement soon gave place to a kind of +sympathy with Woloda's conduct. I found myself wondering less at the +conduct itself than at his ability to behave so agreeably. Also, I found +myself involuntarily desiring to imitate him. + +Sometimes I would pace the landing for an hour at a time, with no other +thought in my head than to watch for movements from above. Yet, although +I longed beyond all things to do as Woloda had done, I could not bring +myself to the point. At other times, filled with a sense of envious +jealousy, I would conceal myself behind a door and listen to the sounds +which came from the maidservants' room, until the thought would occur to +my mind, "How if I were to go in now and, like Woloda, kiss Masha? What +should I say when she asked me--ME with the huge nose and the tuft on +the top of my head--what I wanted?" Sometimes, too, I could hear her +saying to Woloda, + +"That serves you right! Go away! Nicolas Petrovitch never comes in here +with such nonsense." Alas! she did not know that Nicolas Petrovitch was +sitting on the staircase just below and feeling that he would give all +he possessed to be in "that bold fellow Woloda's" place! I was shy by +nature, and rendered worse in that respect by a consciousness of my own +ugliness. I am certain that nothing so much influences the development +of a man as his exterior--though the exterior itself less than his +belief in its plainness or beauty. + +Yet I was too conceited altogether to resign myself to my fate. I tried +to comfort myself much as the fox did when he declared that the grapes +were sour. That is to say, I tried to make light of the satisfaction +to be gained from making such use of a pleasing exterior as I believed +Woloda to employ (satisfaction which I nevertheless envied him from +my heart), and endeavoured with every faculty of my intellect and +imagination to console myself with a pride in my isolation. + + + + +VII. SMALL SHOT + +"Good gracious! Powder!" exclaimed Mimi in a voice trembling with alarm. +"Whatever are you doing? You will set the house on fire in a moment, and +be the death of us all!" Upon that, with an indescribable expression of +firmness, Mimi ordered every one to stand aside, and, regardless of +all possible danger from a premature explosion, strode with long and +resolute steps to where some small shot was scattered about the floor, +and began to trample upon it. + +When, in her opinion, the peril was at least lessened, she called for +Michael and commanded him to throw the "powder" away into some remote +spot, or, better still, to immerse it in water; after which she adjusted +her cap and returned proudly to the drawing-room, murmuring as she went, +"At least I can say that they are well looked after." + +When Papa issued from his room and took us to see Grandmamma we found +Mimi sitting by the window and glancing with a grave, mysterious, +official expression towards the door. In her hand she was holding +something carefully wrapped in paper. I guessed that that something was +the small shot, and that Grandmamma had been informed of the occurrence. +In the room also were the maidservant Gasha (who, to judge by her +angry flushed face, was in a state of great irritation) and Doctor +Blumenthal--the latter a little man pitted with smallpox, who was +endeavouring by tacit, pacificatory signs with his head and eyes to +reassure the perturbed Gasha. Grandmamma was sitting a little askew and +playing that variety of "patience" which is called "The Traveller"--two +unmistakable signs of her displeasure. + +"How are you to-day, Mamma?" said Papa as he kissed her hand +respectfully. "Have you had a good night?" + +"Yes, very good, my dear; you KNOW that I always enjoy sound health," +replied Grandmamma in a tone implying that Papa's inquiries were +out of place and highly offensive. "Please give me a clean +pocket-handkerchief," she added to Gasha. + +"I HAVE given you one, madam," answered Gasha, pointing to the +snow-white cambric handkerchief which she had just laid on the arm of +Grandmamma's chair. + +"No, no; it's a nasty, dirty thing. Take it away and bring me a CLEAN +one, my dear." + +Gasha went to a cupboard and slammed the door of it back so violently +that every window rattled. Grandmamma glared angrily at each of us, and +then turned her attention to following the movements of the servant. +After the latter had presented her with what I suspected to be the same +handkerchief as before, Grandmamma continued: + +"And when do you mean to cut me some snuff, my dear?" + +"When I have time." + +"What do you say?" + +"To-day." + +"If you don't want to continue in my service you had better say so at +once. I would have sent you away long ago had I known that you wished +it." + +"It wouldn't have broken my heart if you had!" muttered the woman in an +undertone. + +Here the doctor winked at her again, but she returned his gaze so firmly +and wrathfully that he soon lowered it and went on playing with his +watch-key. + +"You see, my dear, how people speak to me in my own house!" said +Grandmamma to Papa when Gasha had left the room grumbling. + +"Well, Mamma, I will cut you some snuff myself," replied Papa, though +evidently at a loss how to proceed now that he had made this rash +promise. + +"No, no, I thank you. Probably she is cross because she knows that no +one except herself can cut the snuff just as I like it. Do you know, my +dear," she went on after a pause, "that your children very nearly set +the house on fire this morning?" + +Papa gazed at Grandmamma with respectful astonishment. + +"Yes, they were playing with something or another. Tell him the story," +she added to Mimi. + +Papa could not help smiling as he took the shot in his hand. + +"This is only small shot, Mamma," he remarked, "and could never be +dangerous." + +"I thank you, my dear, for your instruction, but I am rather too old for +that sort of thing." + +"Nerves, nerves!" whispered the doctor. + +Papa turned to us and asked us where we had got the stuff, and how we +could dare to play with it. + +"Don't ask THEM, ask that useless 'Uncle,' rather," put in Grandmamma, +laying a peculiar stress upon the word "UNCLE." "What else is he for?" + +"Woloda says that Karl Ivanitch gave him the powder himself," declared +Mimi. + +"Then you can see for yourself what use he is," continued Grandmamma. +"And where IS he--this precious 'Uncle'? How is one to get hold of him? +Send him here." + +"He has gone an errand for me," said Papa. + +"That is not at all right," rejoined Grandmamma. "He ought ALWAYS to be +here. True, the children are yours, not mine, and I have nothing to do +with them, seeing that you are so much cleverer than I am; yet all the +same I think it is time we had a regular tutor for them, and not this +'Uncle' of a German--a stupid fellow who knows only how to teach them +rude manners and Tyrolean songs! Is it necessary, I ask you, that they +should learn Tyrolean songs? However, there is no one for me to consult +about it, and you must do just as you like." + +The word "NOW" meant "NOW THAT THEY HAVE NO MOTHER," and suddenly +awakened sad recollections in Grandmamma's heart. She threw a glance at +the snuff-box bearing Mamma's portrait and sighed. + +"I thought of all this long ago," said Papa eagerly, "as well as taking +your advice on the subject. How would you like St. Jerome to superintend +their lessons?" + +"Oh, I think he would do excellently, my friend," said Grandmamma in a +mollified tone, "He is at least a tutor comme il faut, and knows how to +instruct des enfants de bonne maison. He is not a mere 'Uncle' who is +good only for taking them out walking." + +"Very well; I will talk to him to-morrow," said Papa. And, sure enough, +two days later saw Karl Ivanitch forced to retire in favour of the young +Frenchman referred to. + + + + +VIII. KARL IVANITCH'S HISTORY + +THE evening before the day when Karl was to leave us for ever, he was +standing (clad, as usual, in his wadded dressing-gown and red cap) +near the bed in his room, and bending down over a trunk as he carefully +packed his belongings. + +His behaviour towards us had been very cool of late, and he had seemed +to shrink from all contact with us. Consequently, when I entered his +room on the present occasion, he only glanced at me for a second and +then went on with his occupation. Even though I proceeded to jump on +to his bed (a thing hitherto always forbidden me to do), he said not +a word; and the idea that he would soon be scolding or forgiving us no +longer--no longer having anything to do with us--reminded me vividly of +the impending separation. I felt grieved to think that he had ceased to +love us and wanted to show him my grief. + +"Will you let me help you?" I said, approaching him. + +He looked at me for a moment and turned away again. Yet the expression +of pain in his eyes showed that his coldness was not the result of +indifference, but rather of sincere and concentrated sorrow. + +"God sees and knows everything," he said at length, raising himself to +his full height and drawing a deep sigh. "Yes, Nicolinka," he went on, +observing, the expression of sincere pity on my face, "my fate has been +an unhappy one from the cradle, and will continue so to the grave. The +good that I have done to people has always been repaid with evil; yet, +though I shall receive no reward here, I shall find one THERE" (he +pointed upwards). "Ah, if only you knew my whole story, and all that I +have endured in this life!--I who have been a bootmaker, a soldier, a +deserter, a factory hand, and a teacher! Yet now--now I am nothing, and, +like the Son of Man, have nowhere to lay my head." Sitting down upon a +chair, he covered his eyes with his hand. + +Seeing that he was in the introspective mood in which a man pays +no attention to his listener as he cons over his secret thoughts, I +remained silent, and, seating myself upon the bed, continued to watch +his kind face. + +"You are no longer a child. You can understand things now, and I will +tell you my whole story and all that I have undergone. Some day, my +children, you may remember the old friend who loved you so much--" + +He leant his elbow upon the table by his side, took a pinch of snuff, +and, in the peculiarly measured, guttural tone in which he used to +dictate us our lessons, began the story of his career. + +Since he many times in later years repeated the whole to me +again--always in the same order, and with the same expressions and +the same unvarying intonation--I will try to render it literally, and +without omitting the innumerable grammatical errors into which he always +strayed when speaking in Russian. Whether it was really the history of +his life, or whether it was the mere product of his imagination--that +is to say, some narrative which he had conceived during his lonely +residence in our house, and had at last, from endless repetition, come +to believe in himself--or whether he was adorning with imaginary facts +the true record of his career, I have never quite been able to make +out. On the one hand, there was too much depth of feeling and practical +consistency in its recital for it to be wholly incredible, while, on the +other hand, the abundance of poetical beauty which it contained tended +to raise doubts in the mind of the listener. + +"Me vere very unhappy from ze time of my birth," he began with a +profound sigh. "Ze noble blot of ze Countess of Zomerblat flows in my +veins. Me vere born six veek after ze vetting. Ze man of my Mutter (I +called him 'Papa') vere farmer to ze Count von Zomerblat. He coult not +forget my Mutter's shame, ant loaft me not. I had a youngster broser +Johann ant two sister, pot me vere strange petween my own family. Ven +Johann mate several silly trick Papa sayt, 'Wit sis chilt Karl I am +never to have one moment tranquil!' and zen he scoltet and ponishet me. +Ven ze sister quarrellet among zemselves Papa sayt, 'Karl vill never +be one opedient poy,' ant still scoltet ant ponishet me. My goot Mamma +alone loaft ant tenteret me. Often she sayt to me, 'Karl, come in my +room,' ant zere she kisset me secretly. 'Poorly, poorly Karl!' she sayt. +'Nopoty loaf you, pot I will not exchange you for somepoty in ze worlt, +One zing your Mutter pegs you, to rememper,' sayt she to me, 'learn +vell, ant be efer one honest man; zen Got will not forsake you.' Ant +I triet so to become. Ven my fourteen year hat expiret, ant me coult +partake of ze Holy Sopper, my Mutter sayt to my Vater, 'Karl is one +pig poy now, Kustaf. Vat shall we do wis him?' Ant Papa sayt, 'Me ton't +know.' Zen Mamma sayt, 'Let us give him to town at Mister Schultzen's, +and he may pea Schumacher,' ant my Vater sayt, 'Goot!' Six year ant +seven mons livet I in town wis ze Mister Shoemaker, ant he loaft me. +He sayt, 'Karl are one goot vorkman, ant shall soon become my Geselle.' +Pot-man makes ze proposition, ant Got ze deposition. In ze year 1796 +one conscription took place, ant each which vas serviceable, from ze +eighteens to ze twenty-first year, hat to go to town. + +"My Fater and my broser Johann come to town, ant ve go togezer to throw +ze lot for which shoult pe Soldat. Johann drew ze fatal nomper, and me +vas not necessary to pe Soldat. Ant Papa sayt, 'I have only vun son, ant +wis him I must now separate!' + +"Den I take his hant, ant says, 'Why say you so, Papa? Come wis me, +ant I will say you somesing.' Ant Papa come, ant we seat togezer at ze +publics-house, ant me sayt, 'Vaiter, give us one Bierkrug,' ant he gives +us one. We trink altogezer, and broser Johann also trink. 'Papa,' sayt +me, 'ton't say zat you have only one son, ant wis it you must separate, +My heart was breaking ven you say sis. Broser Johann must not serve; +ME shall pe Soldat. Karl is for nopoty necessary, and Karl shall pe +Soldat.' + +"'You is one honest man, Karl,' sayt Papa, ant kiss me. Ant me was +Soldat." + + + + +IX. CONTINUATION OF KARL'S NARRATIVE + +"Zat was a terrible time, Nicolinka," continued Karl Ivanitch, "ze +time of Napoleon. He vanted to conquer Germany, ant we protected +our Vaterland to ze last trop of plot. Me vere at Ulm, me vere at +Austerlitz, me vere at Wagram." + +"Did you really fight?" I asked with a gaze of astonishment "Did you +really kill anybody?" + +Karl instantly reassured me on this point, + +"Vonce one French grenadier was left behint, ant fell to ze grount. +I sprang forvarts wis my gon, ant vere about to kill him, aber der +Franzose warf sein Gewehr hin und rief, 'Pardon'--ant I let him loose. + +"At Wagram, Napoleon cut us open, ant surrountet us in such a way as +zere vas no helping. Sree days hat we no provisions, ant stoot in +ze vater op to ze knees. Ze evil Napoleon neiser let us go loose nor +catchet us. + +"On ze fours day zey took us prisoners--zank Got! ant sent us to one +fortress. Upon me vas one blue trousers, uniforms of very goot clos, +fifteen of Thalers, ant one silver clock which my Vater hat given me, +Ze Frans Soldaten took from me everysing. For my happiness zere vas +sree tucats on me which my Mamma hat sewn in my shirt of flannel. Nopoty +fount zem. + +"I liket not long to stay in ze fortresses, ant resoluted to ron away. +Von day, von pig holitay, says I to the sergeant which hat to look after +us, 'Mister Sergeant, to-day is a pig holitay, ant me vants to celeprate +it. Pring here, if you please, two pottle Mateira, ant we shall trink +zem wis each oser.' Ant ze sergeant says, 'Goot!' Ven ze sergeant pring +ze Mateira ant we trink it out to ze last trop, I taket his hant +ant says, 'Mister Sergeant, perhaps you have still one Vater and one +Mutter?' He says, 'So I have, Mister Mayer.' 'My Vater ant Mutter not +seen me eight year,' I goes on to him, 'ant zey know not if I am yet +alive or if my bones be reposing in ze grave. Oh, Mister Sergeant, I +have two tucats which is in my shirt of flannel. Take zem, ant let me +loose! You will pe my penefactor, ant my Mutter will be praying for you +all her life to ze Almighty Got!' + +"Ze sergeant emptiet his glass of Mateira, ant says, 'Mister Mayer, I +loaf and pity you very much, pot you is one prisoner, ant I one soldat.' +So I take his hant ant says, 'Mister Sergeant!' + +"Ant ze sergeant says, 'You is one poor man, ant I will not take your +money, pot I will help you. Ven I go to sleep, puy one pail of pranty +for ze Soldaten, ant zey will sleep. Me will not look after you.' Sis +was one goot man. I puyet ze pail of pranty, ant ven ze Soldaten was +trunken me tresset in one olt coat, ant gang in silence out of ze doon. + +"I go to ze wall, ant will leap down, pot zere is vater pelow, ant I +will not spoil my last tressing, so I go to ze gate. + +"Ze sentry go up and town wis one gon, ant look at me. 'Who goes zere?' +ant I was silent. 'Who goes zere ze second time?' ant I was silent. +'Who goes zere ze third time?' ant I ron away, I sprang in ze vater, +climp op to ze oser site, ant walk on. + +"Ze entire night I ron on ze vay, pot ven taylight came I was afrait +zat zey woult catch me, ant I hit myself in ze high corn. Zere I kneelet +town, zanket ze Vater in Heaven for my safety, ant fall asleep wis a +tranquil feeling. + +"I wakenet op in ze evening, ant gang furser. At once one large German +carriage, wis two raven-black horse, came alongside me. In ze carriage +sit one well-tresset man, smoking pipe, ant look at me. I go slowly, +so zat ze carriage shall have time to pass me, pot I go slowly, ant ze +carriage go slowly, ant ze man look at me. I go quick, ant ze carriage +go quick, ant ze man stop its two horses, ant look at me. 'Young man,' +says he, 'where go you so late?' I says, 'I go to Frankfort.' 'Sit in ze +carriage--zere is room enough, ant I will trag you,' he says. 'Bot +why have you nosing about you? Your boots is dirty, ant your beart not +shaven.' I seated wis him, ant says, 'Ich bin one poor man, ant I would +like to pusy myself wis somesing in a manufactory. My tressing is dirty +because I fell in ze mud on ze roat.' + +"'You tell me ontruse, young man,' says he. 'Ze roat is kvite dry now.' +I was silent. 'Tell me ze whole truse,' goes on ze goot man--'who you +are, ant vere you go to? I like your face, ant ven you is one honest +man, so I will help you.' Ant I tell all. + +"'Goot, young man!' he says. 'Come to my manufactory of rope, ant I will +give you work ant tress ant money, ant you can live wis os.' I says, +'Goot!' + +"I go to ze manufactory of rope, ant ze goot man says to his voman, +'Here is one yong man who defented his Vaterland, ant ron away from +prisons. He has not house nor tresses nor preat. He will live wis os. +Give him clean linen, ant norish him.' + +"I livet one ant a half year in ze manufactory of rope, ant my lantlort +loaft me so much zat he would not let me loose. Ant I felt very goot. + +"I were zen handsome man--yong, of pig stature, with blue eyes and +romische nose--ant Missis L-- (I like not to say her name--she was ze +voman of my lantlort) was yong ant handsome laty. Ant she fell in loaf +wis me." + +Here Karl Ivanitch made a long pause, lowered his kindly blue eyes, +shook his head quietly, and smiled as people always do under the +influence of a pleasing recollection. + +"Yes," he resumed as he leant back in his arm-chair and adjusted his +dressing-gown, "I have experiencet many sings in my life, pot zere is +my witness,"--here he pointed to an image of the Saviour, embroidered +on wool, which was hanging over his bed--"zat nopoty in ze worlt can say +zat Karl Ivanitch has been one dishonest man, I would not repay black +ingratitude for ze goot which Mister L-- dit me, ant I resoluted to ron +away. So in ze evening, ven all were asleep, I writet one letter to my +lantlort, ant laid it on ze table in his room. Zen I taket my tresses, +tree Thaler of money, ant go mysteriously into ze street. Nopoty have +seen me, ant I go on ze roat." + + + + +X. CONCLUSION OF KARL'S NARRATIVE + +"I had not seen my Mamma for nine year, ant I know not whether she lived +or whether her bones had long since lain in ze dark grave. Ven I come to +my own country and go to ze town I ask, 'Where live Kustaf Mayer who was +farmer to ze Count von Zomerblat?' ant zey answer me, 'Graf Zomerblat +is deat, ant Kustaf Mayer live now in ze pig street, ant keep a +public-house.' So I tress in my new waistcoat and one noble coat which +ze manufacturist presented me, arranged my hairs nice, ant go to ze +public-house of my Papa. Sister Mariechen vas sitting on a pench, and +she ask me what I want. I says, 'Might I trink one glass of pranty?' +ant she says, 'Vater, here is a yong man who wish to trink one glass of +pranty.' Ant Papa says, 'Give him ze glass.' I set to ze table, trink my +glass of pranty, smoke my pipe, ant look at Papa, Mariechen, ant Johann +(who also come into ze shop). In ze conversation Papa says, 'You know, +perhaps, yong man, where stants our army?' and I say, 'I myself am come +from ze army, ant it stants now at Wien.' 'Our son,' says Papa, 'is a +Soldat, ant now is it nine years since he wrote never one wort, and we +know not whether he is alive or dead. My voman cry continually for him.' +I still fumigate the pipe, ant say, 'What was your son's name, and where +servet he? Perhaps I may know him.' 'His name was Karl Mayer, ant he +servet in ze Austrian Jagers.' 'He were of pig stature, ant a handsome +man like yourself,' puts in Mariechen. I say, 'I know your Karl.' +'Amalia,' exclaimet my Vater. 'Come here! Here is yong man which knows +our Karl!'--ant my dear Mutter comes out from a back door. I knew her +directly. 'You know our Karl?' says she, ant looks at me, ant, white all +over, trembles. 'Yes, I haf seen him,' I says, without ze corage to look +at her, for my heart did almost burst. 'My Karl is alive?' she cry. 'Zen +tank Got! Vere is he, my Karl? I woult die in peace if I coult see him +once more--my darling son! Bot Got will not haf it so.' Then she cried, +and I coult no longer stant it. 'Darling Mamma!' I say, 'I am your son, +I am your Karl!'--and she fell into my arms." + +Karl Ivanitch covered his eyes, and his lips were quivering. + +"'Mutter,' sagte ich, 'ich bin ihr Sohn, ich bin ihr Karl!'--und sie +sturtzte mir in die Arme!'" he repeated, recovering a little and wiping +the tears from his eyes. + +"Bot Got did not wish me to finish my tays in my own town. I were +pursuet by fate. I livet in my own town only sree mons. One Suntay I sit +in a coffee-house, ant trinket one pint of Pier, ant fumigated my +pipe, ant speaket wis some frients of Politik, of ze Emperor Franz, of +Napoleon, of ze war--ant anypoty might say his opinion. But next to us +sits a strange chentleman in a grey Uberrock, who trink coffee, fumigate +the pipe, ant says nosing. Ven the night watchman shoutet ten o'clock I +taket my hat, paid ze money, and go home. At ze middle of ze night +some one knock at ze door. I rise ant says, 'Who is zere?' 'Open!' says +someone. I shout again, 'First say who is zere, ant I will open.' 'Open +in the name of the law!' say the someone behint the door. I now do so. +Two Soldaten wis gons stant at ze door, ant into ze room steps ze man in +ze grey Uberrock, who had sat with us in ze coffeehouse. He were Spion! +'Come wis me,' says ze Spion, 'Very goot!' say I. I dresset myself in +boots, trousers, ant coat, ant go srough ze room. Ven I come to ze wall +where my gon hangs I take it, ant says, 'You are a Spion, so defent +you!' I give one stroke left, one right, ant one on ze head. Ze Spion +lay precipitated on ze floor! Zen I taket my cloak-bag ant money, ant +jompet out of ze vintow. I vent to Ems, where I was acquainted wis one +General Sasin, who loaft me, givet me a passport from ze Embassy, ant +taket me to Russland to learn his chiltren. Ven General Sasin tiet, your +Mamma callet for me, ant says, 'Karl Ivanitch, I gif you my children. +Loaf them, ant I will never leave you, ant will take care for your olt +age.' Now is she teat, ant all is forgotten! For my twenty year full of +service I most now go into ze street ant seek for a try crust of preat +for my olt age! Got sees all sis, ant knows all sis. His holy will be +done! Only-only, I yearn for you, my children!"--and Karl drew me to +him, and kissed me on the forehead. + + + + +XI. ONE MARK ONLY + +The year of mourning over, Grandmamma recovered a little from her grief, +and once more took to receiving occasional guests, especially children +of the same age as ourselves. + +On the 13th of December--Lubotshka's birthday--the Princess Kornakoff +and her daughters, with Madame Valakhin, Sonetchka, Ilinka Grap, and the +two younger Iwins, arrived at our house before luncheon. + +Though we could hear the sounds of talking, laughter, and movements +going on in the drawing-room, we could not join the party until our +morning lessons were finished. The table of studies in the schoolroom +said, "Lundi, de 2 a 3, maitre d'Histoire et de Geographie," and this +infernal maitre d'Histoire we must await, listen to, and see the back +of before we could gain our liberty. Already it was twenty minutes past +two, and nothing was to be heard of the tutor, nor yet anything to be +seen of him in the street, although I kept looking up and down it with +the greatest impatience and with an emphatic longing never to see the +maitre again. + +"I believe he is not coming to-day," said Woloda, looking up for a +moment from his lesson-book. + +"I hope he is not, please the Lord!" I answered, but in a despondent +tone. "Yet there he DOES come, I believe, all the same!" + +"Not he! Why, that is a GENTLEMAN," said Woloda, likewise looking out of +the window, "Let us wait till half-past two, and then ask St. Jerome if +we may put away our books." + +"Yes, and wish them au revoir," I added, stretching my arms, with the +book clasped in my hands, over my head. Having hitherto idled away my +time, I now opened the book at the place where the lesson was to begin, +and started to learn it. It was long and difficult, and, moreover, I +was in the mood when one's thoughts refuse to be arrested by anything at +all. Consequently I made no progress. After our last lesson in history +(which always seemed to me a peculiarly arduous and wearisome subject) +the history master had complained to St. Jerome of me because only two +good marks stood to my credit in the register--a very small total. St. +Jerome had then told me that if I failed to gain less than THREE marks +at the next lesson I should be severely punished. The next lesson was +now imminent, and I confess that I felt a little nervous. + +So absorbed, however, did I become in my reading that the sound of +goloshes being taken off in the ante-room came upon me almost as a +shock. I had just time to look up when there appeared in the doorway the +servile and (to me) very disgusting face and form of the master, clad in +a blue frockcoat with brass buttons. + +Slowly he set down his hat and books and adjusted the folds of his coat +(as though such a thing were necessary!), and seated himself in his +place. + +"Well, gentlemen," he said, rubbing his hands, "let us first of all +repeat the general contents of the last lesson: after which I will +proceed to narrate the succeeding events of the middle ages." + +This meant "Say over the last lesson." While Woloda was answering the +master with the entire ease and confidence which come of knowing a +subject well, I went aimlessly out on to the landing, and, since I +was not allowed to go downstairs, what more natural than that I should +involuntarily turn towards the alcove on the landing? Yet before I had +time to establish myself in my usual coign of vantage behind the door I +found myself pounced upon by Mimi--always the cause of my misfortunes! + +"YOU here?" she said, looking severely, first at myself, and then at the +maidservants' door, and then at myself again. + +I felt thoroughly guilty, firstly, because I was not in the schoolroom, +and secondly, because I was in a forbidden place. So I remained silent, +and, dropping my head, assumed a touching expression of contrition. + +"Indeed, this is TOO bad!" Mimi went on, "What are you doing here?" + +Still I said nothing. + +"Well, it shall not rest where it is," she added, tapping the banister +with her yellow fingers. "I shall inform the Countess." + +It was five minutes to three when I re-entered the schoolroom. The +master, as though oblivious of my presence or absence, was explaining +the new lesson to Woloda. When he had finished doing this, and had put +his books together (while Woloda went into the other room to fetch his +ticket), the comforting idea occurred to me that perhaps the whole thing +was over now, and that the master had forgotten me. + +But suddenly he turned in my direction with a malicious smile, and said +as he rubbed his hands anew, "I hope you have learnt your lesson?" + +"Yes," I replied. + +"Would you be so kind, then, as to tell me something about St. Louis' +Crusade?" he went on, balancing himself on his chair and looking gravely +at his feet. "Firstly, tell me something about the reasons which induced +the French king to assume the cross" (here he raised his eyebrows and +pointed to the inkstand); "then explain to me the general characteristics +of the Crusade" (here he made a sweeping gesture with his hand, as though +to seize hold of something with it); "and lastly, expound to me the +influence of this Crusade upon the European states in general" (drawing +the copy books to the left side of the table) "and upon the French state +in particular" (drawing one of them to the right, and inclining his head +in the same direction). + +I swallowed a few times, coughed, bent forward, and was silent. Then, +taking a pen from the table, I began to pick it to pieces, yet still +said nothing. + +"Allow me the pen--I shall want it," said the master. "Well?" + +"Louis the-er-Saint was-was-a very good and wise king." + +"What?" + +"King, He took it into his head to go to Jerusalem, and handed over the +reins of government to his mother." + +"What was her name? + +"B-b-b-lanka." + +"What? Belanka?" + +I laughed in a rather forced manner. + +"Well, is that all you know?" he asked again, smiling. + +I had nothing to lose now, so I began chattering the first thing that +came into my head. The master remained silent as he gathered together +the remains of the pen which I had left strewn about the table, looked +gravely past my ear at the wall, and repeated from time to time, "Very +well, very well." Though I was conscious that I knew nothing whatever +and was expressing myself all wrong, I felt much hurt at the fact that +he never either corrected or interrupted me. + +"What made him think of going to Jerusalem?" he asked at last, repeating +some words of my own. + +"Because--because--that is to say--" + +My confusion was complete, and I relapsed into silence, I felt that, +even if this disgusting history master were to go on putting questions +to me, and gazing inquiringly into my face, for a year, I should never +be able to enunciate another syllable. After staring at me for some +three minutes, he suddenly assumed a mournful cast of countenance, and +said in an agitated voice to Woloda (who was just re-entering the room): + +"Allow me the register. I will write my remarks." + +He opened the book thoughtfully, and in his fine caligraphy marked FIVE +for Woloda for diligence, and the same for good behaviour. Then, resting +his pen on the line where my report was to go, he looked at me and +reflected. Suddenly his hand made a decisive movement and, behold, +against my name stood a clearly-marked ONE, with a full stop after it! +Another movement and in the behaviour column there stood another one and +another full stop! Quietly closing the book, the master then rose, and +moved towards the door as though unconscious of my look of entreaty, +despair, and reproach. + +"Michael Lavionitch!" I said. + +"No!" he replied, as though knowing beforehand what I was about to say. +"It is impossible for you to learn in that way. I am not going to earn +my money for nothing." + +He put on his goloshes and cloak, and then slowly tied a scarf about his +neck. To think that he could care about such trifles after what had just +happened to me! To him it was all a mere stroke of the pen, but to me it +meant the direst misfortune. + +"Is the lesson over?" asked St. Jerome, entering. + +"Yes." + +"And was the master pleased with you?" + +"Yes." + +"How many marks did he give you?" + +"Five." + +"And to Nicholas?" + +I was silent. + +"I think four," said Woloda. His idea was to save me for at least today. +If punishment there must be, it need not be awarded while we had guests. + +"Voyons, Messieurs!" (St. Jerome was forever saying "Voyons!") "Faites +votre toilette, et descendons." + + + + +XII. THE KEY + +We had hardly descended and greeted our guests when luncheon was +announced. Papa was in the highest of spirits since for some time +past he had been winning. He had presented Lubotshka with a silver tea +service, and suddenly remembered, after luncheon, that he had forgotten +a box of bonbons which she was to have too. + +"Why send a servant for it? YOU had better go, Koko," he said to me +jestingly. "The keys are in the tray on the table, you know. Take them, +and with the largest one open the second drawer on the right. There you +will find the box of bonbons. Bring it here." + +"Shall I get you some cigars as well?" said I, knowing that he always +smoked after luncheon. + +"Yes, do; but don't touch anything else." + +I found the keys, and was about to carry out my orders, when I was +seized with a desire to know what the smallest of the keys on the bunch +belonged to. + +On the table I saw, among many other things, a padlocked portfolio, +and at once felt curious to see if that was what the key fitted. My +experiment was crowned with success. The portfolio opened and disclosed +a number of papers. Curiosity so strongly urged me also to ascertain +what those papers contained that the voice of conscience was stilled, +and I began to read their contents. . . . + +My childish feeling of unlimited respect for my elders, especially for +Papa, was so strong within me that my intellect involuntarily refused to +draw any conclusions from what I had seen. I felt that Papa was living +in a sphere completely apart from, incomprehensible by, and unattainable +for, me, as well as one that was in every way excellent, and that any +attempt on my part to criticise the secrets of his life would constitute +something like sacrilege. + +For this reason, the discovery which I made from Papa's portfolio left +no clear impression upon my mind, but only a dim consciousness that I +had done wrong. I felt ashamed and confused. + +The feeling made me eager to shut the portfolio again as quickly as +possible, but it seemed as though on this unlucky day I was destined to +experience every possible kind of adversity. I put the key back into the +padlock and turned it round, but not in the right direction. Thinking +that the portfolio was now locked, I pulled at the key and, oh horror! +found my hand come away with only the top half of the key in it! In vain +did I try to put the two halves together, and to extract the portion +that was sticking in the padlock. At last I had to resign myself to the +dreadful thought that I had committed a new crime--one which would be +discovered to-day as soon as ever Papa returned to his study! First of +all, Mimi's accusation on the staircase, and then that one mark, and +then this key! Nothing worse could happen now. This very evening +I should be assailed successively by Grandmamma (because of Mimi's +denunciation), by St. Jerome (because of the solitary mark), and by Papa +(because of the matter of this key)--yes, all in one evening! + +"What on earth is to become of me? What have I done?" I exclaimed as +I paced the soft carpet. "Well," I went on with sudden determination, +"what MUST come, MUST--that's all;" and, taking up the bonbons and the +cigars, I ran back to the other part of the house. + +The fatalistic formula with which I had concluded (and which was one +that I often heard Nicola utter during my childhood) always produced +in me, at the more difficult crises of my life, a momentarily soothing, +beneficial effect. Consequently, when I re-entered the drawing-room, +I was in a rather excited, unnatural mood, yet one that was perfectly +cheerful. + + + + +XIII. THE TRAITRESS + +After luncheon we began to play at round games, in which I took a lively +part. While indulging in "cat and mouse", I happened to cannon rather +awkwardly against the Kornakoffs' governess, who was playing with us, +and, stepping on her dress, tore a large hole in it. Seeing that the +girls--particularly Sonetchka--were anything but displeased at the +spectacle of the governess angrily departing to the maidservants' room +to have her dress mended, I resolved to procure them the satisfaction +a second time. Accordingly, in pursuance of this amiable resolution, I +waited until my victim returned, and then began to gallop madly round +her, until a favourable moment occurred for once more planting my +heel upon her dress and reopening the rent. Sonetchka and the young +princesses had much ado to restrain their laughter, which excited my +conceit the more, but St. Jerome, who had probably divined my tricks, +came up to me with the frown which I could never abide in him, and said +that, since I seemed disposed to mischief, he would have to send me away +if I did not moderate my behaviour. + +However, I was in the desperate position of a person who, having staked +more than he has in his pocket, and feeling that he can never make up +his account, continues to plunge on unlucky cards--not because he hopes +to regain his losses, but because it will not do for him to stop and +consider. So, I merely laughed in an impudent fashion and flung away +from my monitor. + +After "cat and mouse", another game followed in which the gentlemen sit +on one row of chairs and the ladies on another, and choose each other +for partners. The youngest princess always chose the younger Iwin, +Katenka either Woloda or Ilinka, and Sonetchka Seriosha--nor, to my +extreme astonishment, did Sonetchka seem at all embarrassed when her +cavalier went and sat down beside her. On the contrary, she only laughed +her sweet, musical laugh, and made a sign with her head that he had +chosen right. Since nobody chose me, I always had the mortification of +finding myself left over, and of hearing them say, "Who has been left +out? Oh, Nicolinka. Well, DO take him, somebody." Consequently, whenever +it came to my turn to guess who had chosen me, I had to go either to +my sister or to one of the ugly elder princesses. Sonetchka seemed so +absorbed in Seriosha that in her eyes I clearly existed no longer. I do +not quite know why I called her "the traitress" in my thoughts, since +she had never promised to choose me instead of Seriosha, but, for all +that, I felt convinced that she was treating me in a very abominable +fashion. After the game was finished, I actually saw "the traitress" +(from whom I nevertheless could not withdraw my eyes) go with Seriosha +and Katenka into a corner, and engage in secret confabulation. +Stealing softly round the piano which masked the conclave, I beheld the +following: + +Katenka was holding up a pocket-handkerchief by two of its corners, so +as to form a screen for the heads of her two companions. "No, you have +lost! You must pay the forfeit!" cried Seriosha at that moment, and +Sonetchka, who was standing in front of him, blushed like a criminal +as she replied, "No, I have NOT lost! HAVE I, Mademoiselle Katherine?" +"Well, I must speak the truth," answered Katenka, "and say that you HAVE +lost, my dear." Scarcely had she spoken the words when Seriosha embraced +Sonetchka, and kissed her right on her rosy lips! And Sonetchka smiled +as though it were nothing, but merely something very pleasant! + +Horrors! The artful "traitress!" + + + + +XIV. THE RETRIBUTION + +Instantly, I began to feel a strong contempt for the female sex in +general and Sonetchka in particular. I began to think that there was +nothing at all amusing in these games--that they were only fit for +girls, and felt as though I should like to make a great noise, or to do +something of such extraordinary boldness that every one would be forced +to admire it. The opportunity soon arrived. St. Jerome said something to +Mimi, and then left the room, I could hear his footsteps ascending the +staircase, and then passing across the schoolroom, and the idea occurred +to me that Mimi must have told him her story about my being found on the +landing, and thereupon he had gone to look at the register. (In those +days, it must be remembered, I believed that St. Jerome's whole aim in +life was to annoy me.) Some where I have read that, not infrequently, +children of from twelve to fourteen years of age--that is to say, +children just passing from childhood to adolescence--are addicted to +incendiarism, or even to murder. As I look back upon my childhood, and +particularly upon the mood in which I was on that (for myself) most +unlucky day, I can quite understand the possibility of such terrible +crimes being committed by children without any real aim in view--without +any real wish to do wrong, but merely out of curiosity or under the +influence of an unconscious necessity for action. There are moments when +the human being sees the future in such lurid colours that he +shrinks from fixing his mental eye upon it, puts a check upon all his +intellectual activity, and tries to feel convinced that the future will +never be, and that the past has never been. At such moments--moments +when thought does not shrink from manifestations of will, and the carnal +instincts alone constitute the springs of life--I can understand that +want of experience (which is a particularly predisposing factor in +this connection) might very possibly lead a child, aye, without fear +or hesitation, but rather with a smile of curiosity on its face, to set +fire to the house in which its parents and brothers and sisters (beings +whom it tenderly loves) are lying asleep. It would be under the same +influence of momentary absence of thought--almost absence of mind--that +a peasant boy of seventeen might catch sight of the edge of a +newly-sharpened axe reposing near the bench on which his aged father was +lying asleep, face downwards, and suddenly raise the implement in order +to observe with unconscious curiosity how the blood would come spurting +out upon the floor if he made a wound in the sleeper's neck. It is under +the same influence--the same absence of thought, the same instinctive +curiosity--that a man finds delight in standing on the brink of an abyss +and thinking to himself, "How if I were to throw myself down?" or in +holding to his brow a loaded pistol and wondering, "What if I were +to pull the trigger?" or in feeling, when he catches sight of some +universally respected personage, that he would like to go up to him, +pull his nose hard, and say, "How do you do, old boy?" + +Under the spell, then, of this instinctive agitation and lack of +reflection I was moved to put out my tongue, and to say that I would not +move, when St. Jerome came down and told me that I had behaved so badly +that day, as well as done my lessons so ill, that I had no right to be +where I was, and must go upstairs directly. + +At first, from astonishment and anger, he could not utter a word. + +"C'est bien!" he exclaimed eventually as he darted towards me. "Several +times have I promised to punish you, and you have been saved from it by +your Grandmamma, but now I see that nothing but the cane will teach you +obedience, and you shall therefore taste it." + +This was said loud enough for every one to hear. The blood rushed to +my heart with such vehemence that I could feel that organ beating +violently--could feel the colour rising to my cheeks and my lips +trembling. Probably I looked horrible at that moment, for, avoiding +my eye, St. Jerome stepped forward and caught me by the hand. Hardly +feeling his touch, I pulled away my hand in blind fury, and with all my +childish might struck him. + +"What are you doing?" said Woloda, who had seen my behaviour, and now +approached me in alarm and astonishment. + +"Let me alone!" I exclaimed, the tears flowing fast. "Not a single one +of you loves me or understands how miserable I am! You are all of you +odious and disgusting!" I added bluntly, turning to the company at +large. + +At this moment St. Jerome--his face pale, but determined--approached me +again, and, with a movement too quick to admit of any defence, seized +my hands as with a pair of tongs, and dragged me away. My head swam with +excitement, and I can only remember that, so long as I had strength to +do it, I fought with head and legs; that my nose several times collided +with a pair of knees; that my teeth tore some one's coat; that all +around me I could hear the shuffling of feet; and that I could smell +dust and the scent of violets with which St. Jerome used to perfume +himself. + +Five minutes later the door of the store-room closed behind me. + +"Basil," said a triumphant but detestable voice, "bring me the cane." + + + + +XV. DREAMS + +Could I at that moment have supposed that I should ever live to survive +the misfortunes of that day, or that there would ever come a time when I +should be able to look back upon those misfortunes composedly? + +As I sat there thinking over what I had done, I could not imagine what +the matter had been with me. I only felt with despair that I was for +ever lost. + +At first the most profound stillness reigned around me--at least, so it +appeared to me as compared with the violent internal emotion which I had +been experiencing; but by and by I began to distinguish various sounds. +Basil brought something downstairs which he laid upon a chest outside. +It sounded like a broom-stick. Below me I could hear St. Jerome's +grumbling voice (probably he was speaking of me), and then children's +voices and laughter and footsteps; until in a few moments everything +seemed to have regained its normal course in the house, as though +nobody knew or cared to know that here was I sitting alone in the dark +store-room! + +I did not cry, but something lay heavy, like a stone, upon my heart. +Ideas and pictures passed with extraordinary rapidity before my troubled +imagination, yet through their fantastic sequence broke continually +the remembrance of the misfortune which had befallen me as I once +again plunged into an interminable labyrinth of conjectures as to the +punishment, the fate, and the despair that were awaiting me. The +thought occurred to me that there must be some reason for the general +dislike--even contempt--which I fancied to be felt for me by others. +I was firmly convinced that every one, from Grandmamma down to the +coachman Philip, despised me, and found pleasure in my sufferings. Next +an idea struck me that perhaps I was not the son of my father and mother +at all, nor Woloda's brother, but only some unfortunate orphan who had +been adopted by them out of compassion, and this absurd notion not only +afforded me a certain melancholy consolation, but seemed to me quite +probable. I found it comforting to think that I was unhappy, not through +my own fault, but because I was fated to be so from my birth, and +conceived that my destiny was very much like poor Karl Ivanitch's. + +"Why conceal the secret any longer, now that I have discovered it?" I +reflected. "To-morrow I will go to Papa and say to him, 'It is in vain +for you to try and conceal from me the mystery of my birth. I know it +already.' And he will answer me, 'What else could I do, my good fellow? +Sooner or later you would have had to know that you are not my son, but +were adopted as such. Nevertheless, so long as you remain worthy of my +love, I will never cast you out.' Then I shall say, 'Papa, though I +have no right to call you by that name, and am now doing so for the last +time, I have always loved you, and shall always retain that love. At the +same time, while I can never forget that you have been my benefactor, I +cannot remain longer in your house. Nobody here loves me, and St. Jerome +has wrought my ruin. Either he or I must go forth, since I cannot answer +for myself. I hate the man so that I could do anything--I could even +kill him.' Papa will begin to entreat me, but I shall make a gesture, +and say, 'No, no, my friend and benefactor! We cannot live together. Let +me go'--and for the last time I shall embrace him, and say in French, +'O mon pere, O mon bienfaiteur, donne moi, pour la derniere fois, ta +benediction, et que la volonte de Dieu soit faite!'" + +I sobbed bitterly at these thoughts as I sat on a trunk in that dark +storeroom. Then, suddenly recollecting the shameful punishment which was +awaiting me, I would find myself back again in actuality, and the dreams +had fled. Soon, again, I began to fancy myself far away from the +house and alone in the world. I enter a hussar regiment and go to war. +Surrounded by the foe on every side, I wave my sword, and kill one of +them and wound another--then a third,--then a fourth. At last, exhausted +with loss of blood and fatigue, I fall to the ground and cry, "Victory!" +The general comes to look for me, asking, "Where is our saviour?" +whereupon I am pointed out to him. He embraces me, and, in his turn, +exclaims with tears of joy, "Victory!" I recover and, with my arm in a +black sling, go to walk on the boulevards. I am a general now. I meet +the Emperor, who asks, "Who is this young man who has been wounded?" He +is told that it is the famous hero Nicolas; whereupon he approaches me +and says, "My thanks to you! Whatsoever you may ask for, I will grant +it." To this I bow respectfully, and, leaning on my sword, reply, "I am +happy, most august Emperor, that I have been able to shed my blood +for my country. I would gladly have died for it. Yet, since you are +so generous as to grant any wish of mine, I venture to ask of you +permission to annihilate my enemy, the foreigner St. Jerome" And then I +step fiercely before St. Jerome and say, "YOU were the cause of all my +fortunes! Down now on your knees!" + +Unfortunately this recalled to my mind the fact that at any moment the +REAL St. Jerome might be entering with the cane; so that once more I +saw myself, not a general and the saviour of my country, but an unhappy, +pitiful creature. + +Then the idea of God occurred to me, and I asked Him boldly why He had +punished me thus, seeing that I had never forgotten to say my prayers, +either morning or evening. Indeed, I can positively declare that it was +during that hour in the store-room that I took the first step towards +the religious doubt which afterwards assailed me during my youth (not +that mere misfortune could arouse me to infidelity and murmuring, but +that, at moments of utter contrition and solitude, the idea of the +injustice of Providence took root in me as readily as bad seed takes +root in land well soaked with rain). Also, I imagined that I was +going to die there and then, and drew vivid pictures of St. Jerome's +astonishment when he entered the store-room and found a corpse there +instead of myself! Likewise, recollecting what Natalia Savishna had told +me of the forty days during which the souls of the departed must hover +around their earthly home, I imagined myself flying through the rooms +of Grandmamma's house, and seeing Lubotshka's bitter tears, and hearing +Grandmamma's lamentations, and listening to Papa and St. Jerome talking +together. "He was a fine boy," Papa would say with tears in his +eyes. "Yes," St. Jerome would reply, "but a sad scapegrace and +good-for-nothing." "But you should respect the dead," would expostulate +Papa. "YOU were the cause of his death; YOU frightened him until he +could no longer bear the thought of the humiliation which you were about +to inflict upon him. Away from me, criminal!" Upon that St. Jerome would +fall upon his knees and implore forgiveness, and when the forty +days were ended my soul would fly to Heaven, and see there something +wonderfully beautiful, white, and transparent, and know that it was +Mamma. + +And that something would embrace and caress me. Yet, all at once, I +should feel troubled, and not know her. "If it be you," I should say +to her, "show yourself more distinctly, so that I may embrace you in +return." And her voice would answer me, "Do you not feel happy thus?" +and I should reply, "Yes, I do, but you cannot REALLY caress me, and I +cannot REALLY kiss your hand like this." "But it is not necessary," she +would say. "There can be happiness here without that,"--and I should +feel that it was so, and we should ascend together, ever higher and +higher, until--Suddenly I feel as though I am being thrown down again, +and find myself sitting on the trunk in the dark store-room (my cheeks +wet with tears and my thoughts in a mist), yet still repeating the +words, "Let us ascend together, higher and higher." Indeed, it was a +long, long while before I could remember where I was, for at that moment +my mind's eye saw only a dark, dreadful, illimitable void. I tried to +renew the happy, consoling dream which had been thus interrupted by the +return to reality, but, to my surprise, I found that, as soon as ever +I attempted to re-enter former dreams, their continuation became +impossible, while--which astonished me even more--they no longer gave me +pleasure. + + + + +XVI. "KEEP ON GRINDING, AND YOU'LL HAVE FLOUR" + +I PASSED the night in the store-room, and nothing further happened, +except that on the following morning--a Sunday--I was removed to a small +chamber adjoining the schoolroom, and once more shut up. I began to hope +that my punishment was going to be limited to confinement, and found my +thoughts growing calmer under the influence of a sound, soft sleep, the +clear sunlight playing upon the frost crystals of the windowpanes, and +the familiar noises in the street. + +Nevertheless, solitude gradually became intolerable. I wanted to move +about, and to communicate to some one all that was lying upon my +heart, but not a living creature was near me. The position was the more +unpleasant because, willy-nilly, I could hear St. Jerome walking about +in his room, and softly whistling some hackneyed tune. Somehow, I felt +convinced that he was whistling not because he wanted to, but because he +knew it annoyed me. + +At two o'clock, he and Woloda departed downstairs, and Nicola brought me +up some luncheon. When I told him what I had done and what was awaiting +me he said: + +"Pshaw, sir! Don't be alarmed. 'Keep on grinding, and you'll have +flour.'" + +Although this expression (which also in later days has more than once +helped me to preserve my firmness of mind) brought me a little comfort, +the fact that I received, not bread and water only, but a whole +luncheon, and even dessert, gave me much to think about. If they had +sent me no dessert, it would have meant that my punishment was to be +limited to confinement; whereas it was now evident that I was looked +upon as not yet punished--that I was only being kept away from the +others, as an evil-doer, until the due time of punishment. While I was +still debating the question, the key of my prison turned, and St. Jerome +entered with a severe, official air. + +"Come down and see your Grandmamma," he said without looking at me. + +I should have liked first to have brushed my jacket, since it was +covered with dust, but St. Jerome said that that was quite unnecessary, +since I was in such a deplorable moral condition that my exterior +was not worth considering. As he led me through the salon, Katenka, +Lubotshka, and Woloda looked at me with much the same expression as +we were wont to look at the convicts who on certain days filed past my +grandmother's house. Likewise, when I approached Grandmamma's arm-chair +to kiss her hand, she withdrew it, and thrust it under her mantilla. + +"Well, my dear," she began after a long pause, during which she regarded +me from head to foot with the kind of expression which makes one +uncertain where to look or what to do, "I must say that you seem to +value my love very highly, and afford me great consolation." Then she +went on, with an emphasis on each word, "Monsieur St. Jerome, who, at my +request, undertook your education, says that he can no longer remain +in the house. And why? Simply because of you." Another pause ensued. +Presently she continued in a tone which clearly showed that her speech +had been prepared beforehand, "I had hoped that you would be grateful +for all his care, and for all the trouble that he has taken with you, +that you would have appreciated his services; but you--you baby, you +silly boy!--you actually dare to raise your hand against him! Very +well, very good. I am beginning to think that you cannot understand kind +treatment, but require to be treated in a very different and humiliating +fashion. Go now directly and beg his pardon," she added in a stern and +peremptory tone as she pointed to St. Jerome, "Do you hear me?" + +I followed the direction of her finger with my eye, but on that member +alighting upon St. Jerome's coat, I turned my head away, and once more +felt my heart beating violently as I remained where I was. + +"What? Did you not hear me when I told you what to do?" + +I was trembling all over, but I would not stir. + +"Koko," went on my grandmother, probably divining my inward sufferings, +"Koko," she repeated in a voice tender rather than harsh, "is this you?" + +"Grandmamma, I cannot beg his pardon for--" and I stopped suddenly, for +I felt the next word refuse to come for the tears that were choking me. + +"But I ordered you, I begged of you, to do so. What is the matter with +you?" + +"I-I-I will not--I cannot!" I gasped, and the tears, long pent up and +accumulated in my breast, burst forth like a stream which breaks its +dikes and goes flowing madly over the country. + +"C'est ainsi que vous obeissez a votre seconde mere, c'est ainsi que +vous reconnaissez ses bontes!" remarked St. Jerome quietly, "A genoux!" + +"Good God! If SHE had seen this!" exclaimed Grandmamma, turning from me +and wiping away her tears. "If she had seen this! It may be all for +the best, yet she could never have survived such grief--never!" and +Grandmamma wept more and more. I too wept, but it never occurred to me +to ask for pardon. + +"Tranquillisez-vous au nom du ciel, Madame la Comtesse," said St. +Jerome, but Grandmamma heard him not. She covered her face with her +hands, and her sobs soon passed to hiccups and hysteria. Mimi and Gasha +came running in with frightened faces, salts and spirits were applied, +and the whole house was soon in a ferment. + +"You may feel pleased at your work," said St. Jerome to me as he led me +from the room. + +"Good God! What have I done?" I thought to myself. "What a terribly bad +boy I am!" + +As soon as St. Jerome, bidding me go into his room, had returned to +Grandmamma, I, all unconscious of what I was doing, ran down the grand +staircase leading to the front door. Whether I intended to drown myself, +or whether merely to run away from home, I do not remember. I only know +that I went blindly on, my face covered with my hands that I might see +nothing. + +"Where are you going to?" asked a well-known voice. "I want you, my +boy." + +I would have passed on, but Papa caught hold of me, and said sternly: + +"Come here, you impudent rascal. How could you dare to do such a thing +as to touch the portfolio in my study?" he went on as he dragged me into +his room. "Oh! you are silent, eh?" and he pulled my ear. + +"Yes, I WAS naughty," I said. "I don't know myself what came over me +then." + +"So you don't know what came over you--you don't know, you don't know?" +he repeated as he pulled my ear harder and harder. "Will you go and put +your nose where you ought not to again--will you, will you?" + +Although my ear was in great pain, I did not cry, but, on the contrary, +felt a sort of morally pleasing sensation. No sooner did he let go of my +ear than I seized his hand and covered it with tears and kisses. + +"Please whip me!" I cried, sobbing. "Please hurt me the more and more, +for I am a wretched, bad, miserable boy!" + +"Why, what on earth is the matter with you?" he said, giving me a slight +push from him. + +"No, I will not go away!" I continued, seizing his coat. "Every one else +hates me--I know that, but do YOU listen to me and protect me, or else +send me away altogether. I cannot live with HIM. He tries to humiliate +me--he tells me to kneel before him, and wants to strike me. I can't +stand it. I'm not a baby. I can't stand it--I shall die, I shall kill +myself. HE told Grandmamma that I was naughty, and now she is ill--she +will die through me. It is all his fault. Please let me--W-why +should-he-tor-ment me?" + +The tears choked my further speech. I sat down on the sofa, and, with +my head buried on Papa's knees, sobbed until I thought I should die of +grief. + +"Come, come! Why are you such a water-pump?" said Papa compassionately, +as he stooped over me. + +"He is such a bully! He is murdering me! I shall die! Nobody loves me at +all!" I gasped almost inaudibly, and went into convulsions. + +Papa lifted me up, and carried me to my bedroom, where I fell asleep. + +When I awoke it was late. Only a solitary candle burned in the room, +while beside the bed there were seated Mimi, Lubotshka, and our doctor. +In their faces I could discern anxiety for my health, so, although +I felt so well after my twelve-hours' sleep that I could have got up +directly, I thought it best to let them continue thinking that I was +unwell. + + + + +XVII. HATRED + +Yes, it was the real feeling of hatred that was mine now--not the hatred +of which one reads in novels, and in the existence of which I do +not believe--the hatred which finds satisfaction in doing harm to a +fellow-creature, but the hatred which consists of an unconquerable +aversion to a person who may be wholly deserving of your esteem, yet +whose very hair, neck, walk, voice, limbs, movements, and everything +else are disgusting to you, while all the while an incomprehensible +force attracts you towards him, and compels you to follow his slightest +acts with anxious attention. + +This was the feeling which I cherished for St. Jerome, who had lived +with us now for a year and a half. + +Judging coolly of the man at this time of day, I find that he was a true +Frenchman, but a Frenchman in the better acceptation of the term. He was +fairly well educated, and fulfilled his duties to us conscientiously, +but he had the peculiar features of fickle egotism, boastfulness, +impertinence, and ignorant self-assurance which are common to all his +countrymen, as well as entirely opposed to the Russian character. + +All this set me against him, Grandmamma had signified to him her dislike +for corporal punishment, and therefore he dared not beat us, but he +frequently THREATENED us, particularly myself, with the cane, and would +utter the word fouetter as though it were fouatter in an expressive +and detestable way which always gave me the idea that to whip me would +afford him the greatest possible satisfaction. + +I was not in the least afraid of the bodily pain, for I had never +experienced it. It was the mere idea that he could beat me that threw me +into such paroxysms of wrath and despair. + +True, Karl Ivanitch sometimes (in moments of exasperation) had recourse +to a ruler or to his braces, but that I can look back upon without +anger. Even if he had struck me at the time of which I am now speaking +(namely, when I was fourteen years old), I should have submitted quietly +to the correction, for I loved him, and had known him all my life, +and looked upon him as a member of our family, but St. Jerome was a +conceited, opinionated fellow for whom I felt merely the unwilling +respect which I entertained for all persons older than myself. Karl +Ivanitch was a comical old "Uncle" whom I loved with my whole heart, but +who, according to my childish conception of social distinctions, ranked +below us, whereas St. Jerome was a well-educated, handsome young dandy +who was for showing himself the equal of any one. + +Karl Ivanitch had always scolded and punished us coolly, as though he +thought it a necessary, but extremely disagreeable, duty. St. Jerome, +on the contrary, always liked to emphasise his part as JUDGE when +correcting us, and clearly did it as much for his own satisfaction +as for our good. He loved authority. Nevertheless, I always found his +grandiloquent French phrases (which he pronounced with a strong emphasis +on all the final syllables) inexpressibly disgusting, whereas Karl, when +angry, had never said anything beyond, "What a foolish puppet-comedy it +is!" or "You boys are as irritating as Spanish fly!" (which he always +called "Spaniard" fly). St. Jerome, however, had names for us like +"mauvais sujet," "villain," "garnement," and so forth--epithets which +greatly offended my self-respect. When Karl Ivanitch ordered us to +kneel in the corner with our faces to the wall, the punishment consisted +merely in the bodily discomfort of the position, whereas St. Jerome, in +such cases, always assumed a haughty air, made a grandiose gesture with +his hand, and exclaiming in a pseudo-tragic tone, "A genoux, mauvais +sujet!" ordered us to kneel with our faces towards him, and to crave his +pardon. His punishment consisted in humiliation. + +However, on the present occasion the punishment never came, nor was the +matter ever referred to again. Yet, I could not forget all that I had +gone through--the shame, the fear, and the hatred of those two days. +From that time forth, St. Jerome appeared to give me up in despair, and +took no further trouble with me, yet I could not bring myself to treat +him with indifference. Every time that our eyes met I felt that my +look expressed only too plainly my dislike, and, though I tried hard +to assume a careless air, he seemed to divine my hypocrisy, until I was +forced to blush and turn away. + +In short, it was a terrible trial to me to have anything to do with him. + + + + +XVIII. THE MAIDSERVANTS' ROOM + +I BEGAN to feel more and more lonely, until my chief solace lay in +solitary reflection and observation. Of the favourite subject of +my reflections I shall speak in the next chapter. The scene where I +indulged in them was, for preference, the maidservants' room, where +a plot suitable for a novel was in progress--a plot which touched and +engrossed me to the highest degree. The heroine of the romance was, of +course, Masha. She was in love with Basil, who had known her before she +had become a servant in our house, and who had promised to marry her +some day. Unfortunately, fate, which had separated them five years ago, +and afterwards reunited them in Grandmamma's abode, next proceeded to +interpose an obstacle between them in the shape of Masha's uncle, our +man Nicola, who would not hear of his niece marrying that "uneducated +and unbearable fellow," as he called Basil. One effect of the obstacle +had been to make the otherwise slightly cool and indifferent Basil fall +as passionately in love with Masha as it is possible for a man to be +who is only a servant and a tailor, wears a red shirt, and has his hair +pomaded. Although his methods of expressing his affection were odd (for +instance, whenever he met Masha he always endeavoured to inflict upon +her some bodily pain, either by pinching her, giving her a slap with his +open hand, or squeezing her so hard that she could scarcely breathe), +that affection was sincere enough, and he proved it by the fact that, +from the moment when Nicola refused him his niece's hand, his grief led +him to drinking, and to frequenting taverns, until he proved so +unruly that more than once he had to be sent to undergo a humiliating +chastisement at the police-station. + +Nevertheless, these faults of his and their consequences only served to +elevate him in Masha's eyes, and to increase her love for him. Whenever +he was in the hands of the police, she would sit crying the whole day, +and complain to Gasha of her hard fate (Gasha played an active part +in the affairs of these unfortunate lovers). Then, regardless of her +uncle's anger and blows, she would stealthily make her way to the +police-station, there to visit and console her swain. + +Excuse me, reader, for introducing you to such company. Nevertheless, if +the cords of love and compassion have not wholly snapped in your soul, +you will find, even in that maidservants' room, something which may +cause them to vibrate again. + +So, whether you please to follow me or not, I will return to the alcove +on the staircase whence I was able to observe all that passed in that +room. From my post I could see the stove-couch, with, upon it, an iron, +an old cap-stand with its peg bent crooked, a wash-tub, and a basin. +There, too, was the window, with, in fine disorder before it, a piece +of black wax, some fragments of silk, a half-eaten cucumber, a box of +sweets, and so on. There, too, was the large table at which SHE used +to sit in the pink cotton dress which I admired so much and the +blue handkerchief which always caught my attention so. She would be +sewing-though interrupting her work at intervals to scratch her head +a little, to bite the end of her thread, or to snuff the candle--and I +would think to myself: "Why was she not born a lady--she with her blue +eyes, beautiful fair hair, and magnificent bust? How splendid she would +look if she were sitting in a drawing-room and dressed in a cap with +pink ribbons and a silk gown--not one like Mimi's, but one like the gown +which I saw the other day on the Tverski Boulevard!" Yes, she would work +at the embroidery-frame, and I would sit and look at her in the mirror, +and be ready to do whatsoever she wanted--to help her on with her mantle +or to hand her food. As for Basil's drunken face and horrid figure in +the scanty coat with the red shirt showing beneath it, well, in his +every gesture, in his every movement of his back, I seemed always to see +signs of the humiliating chastisements which he had undergone. + +"Ah, Basil! AGAIN?" cried Masha on one occasion as she stuck her needle +into the pincushion, but without looking up at the person who was +entering. + +"What is the good of a man like HIM?" was Basil's first remark. + +"Yes. If only he would say something DECISIVE! But I am powerless in the +matter--I am all at odds and ends, and through his fault, too." + +"Will you have some tea?" put in Madesha (another servant). + +"No, thank you.--But why does he hate me so, that old thief of an uncle +of yours? Why? Is it because of the clothes I wear, or of my height, +or of my walk, or what? Well, damn and confound him!" finished Basil, +snapping his fingers. + +"We must be patient," said Masha, threading her needle. + +"You are so--" + +"It is my nerves that won't stand it, that's all." + +At this moment the door of Grandmamma's room banged, and Gasha's angry +voice could be heard as she came up the stairs. + +"There!" she muttered with a gesture of her hands. "Try to please people +when even they themselves do not know what they want, and it is a cursed +life--sheer hard labour, and nothing else! If only a certain thing would +happen!--though God forgive me for thinking it!" + +"Good evening, Agatha Michaelovna," said Basil, rising to greet her. + +"You here?" she answered brusquely as she stared at him, "That is not +very much to your credit. What do you come here for? Is the maids' room +a proper place for men?" + +"I wanted to see how you were," said Basil soothingly. + +"I shall soon be breathing my last--THAT'S how I am!" cried Gasha, still +greatly incensed. + +Basil laughed. + +"Oh, there's nothing to laugh at when I say that I shall soon be dead. +But that's how it will be, all the same. Just look at the drunkard! +Marry her, would he? The fool! Come, get out of here!" and, with a stamp +of her foot on the floor, Gasha retreated to her own room, and banged +the door behind her until the window rattled again. For a while she +could be heard scolding at everything, flinging dresses and other things +about, and pulling the ears of her favourite cat. Then the door opened +again, and puss, mewing pitifully, was flung forth by the tail. + +"I had better come another time for tea," said Basil in a whisper--"at +some better time for our meeting." + +"No, no!" put in Madesha. "I'll go and fetch the urn at once." + +"I mean to put an end to things soon," went on Basil, seating himself +beside Masha as soon as ever Madesha had left the room. "I had much +better go straight to the Countess, and say 'so-and-so' or I will throw +up my situation and go off into the world. Oh dear, oh dear!" + +"And am I to remain here?" + +"Ah, there's the difficulty--that's what I feel so badly about, You have +been my sweetheart so long, you see. Ah, dear me!" + +"Why don't you bring me your shirts to wash, Basil?" asked Masha after a +pause, during which she had been inspecting his wrist-bands. + +At this moment Grandmamma's bell rang, and Gasha issued from her room +again. + +"What do you want with her, you impudent fellow?" she cried as she +pushed Basil (who had risen at her entrance) before her towards the +door. "First you lead a girl on, and then you want to lead her further +still. I suppose it amuses you to see her tears. There's the door, now. +Off you go! We want your room, not your company. And what good can you +see in him?" she went on, turning to Masha. "Has not your uncle been +walking into you to-day already? No; she must stick to her promise, +forsooth! 'I will have no one but Basil,' Fool that you are!" + +"Yes, I WILL have no one but him! I'll never love any one else! I could +kill myself for him!" poor Masha burst out, the tears suddenly gushing +forth. + +For a while I stood watching her as she wiped away those tears. Then I +fell to contemplating Basil attentively, in the hope of finding out what +there was in him that she found so attractive; yet, though I sympathised +with her sincerely in her grief, I could not for the life of me +understand how such a charming creature as I considered her to be could +love a man like him. + +"When I become a man," I thought to myself as I returned to my room, +"Petrovskoe shall be mine, and Basil and Masha my servants. Some day, +when I am sitting in my study and smoking a pipe, Masha will chance to +pass the door on her way to the kitchen with an iron, and I shall say, +'Masha, come here,' and she will enter, and there will be no one else in +the room. Then suddenly Basil too will enter, and, on seeing her, will +cry, 'My sweetheart is lost to me!' and Masha will begin to weep, Then +I shall say, 'Basil, I know that you love her, and that she loves you. +Here are a thousand roubles for you. Marry her, and may God grant you +both happiness!' Then I shall leave them together." + +Among the countless thoughts and fancies which pass, without logic or +sequence, through the mind and the imagination, there are always some +which leave behind them a mark so profound that, without remembering +their exact subject, we can at least recall that something good has +passed through our brain, and try to retain and reproduce its effect. +Such was the mark left upon my consciousness by the idea of sacrificing +my feelings to Masha's happiness, seeing that she believed that she +could attain it only through a union with Basil. + + + + +XIX. BOYHOOD + +PERHAPS people will scarcely believe me when I tell them what were the +dearest, most constant, objects of my reflections during my boyhood, so +little did those objects consort with my age and position. Yet, in my +opinion, contrast between a man's actual position and his moral activity +constitutes the most reliable sign of his genuineness. + +During the period when I was leading a solitary and self-centred moral +life, I was much taken up with abstract thoughts on man's destiny, on +a future life, and on the immortality of the soul, and, with all the +ardour of inexperience, strove to make my youthful intellect solve those +questions--the questions which constitute the highest level of thought +to which the human intellect can tend, but a final decision of which the +human intellect can never succeed in attaining. + +I believe the intellect to take the same course of development in the +individual as in the mass, as also that the thoughts which serve as +a basis for philosophical theories are an inseparable part of that +intellect, and that every man must be more or less conscious of those +thoughts before he can know anything of the existence of philosophical +theories. To my own mind those thoughts presented themselves with such +clarity and force that I tried to apply them to life, in the fond belief +that I was the first to have discovered such splendid and invaluable +truths. + +Sometimes I would suppose that happiness depends, not upon external +causes themselves, but only upon our relation to them, and that, +provided a man can accustom himself to bearing suffering, he need +never be unhappy. To prove the latter hypothesis, I would (despite the +horrible pain) hold out a Tatistchev's dictionary at arm's length for +five minutes at a time, or else go into the store-room and scourge my +back with cords until the tears involuntarily came to my eyes! + +Another time, suddenly bethinking me that death might find me at any +hour or any minute, I came to the conclusion that man could only be +happy by using the present to the full and taking no thought for the +future. Indeed, I wondered how people had never found that out before. +Acting under the influence of the new idea, I laid my lesson-books +aside for two or three days, and, reposing on my bed, gave myself up to +novel-reading and the eating of gingerbread-and-honey which I had bought +with my last remaining coins. + +Again, standing one day before the blackboard and smearing figures on it +with honey, I was struck with the thought, "Why is symmetry so agreeable +to the eye? What is symmetry? Of course it is an innate sense," I +continued; "yet what is its basis? Perhaps everything in life is +symmetry? But no. On the contrary, this is life"--and I drew an oblong +figure on the board--"and after life the soul passes to eternity"--here +I drew a line from one end of the oblong figure to the edge of the +board. "Why should there not be a corresponding line on the other +side? If there be an eternity on one side, there must surely be a +corresponding one on the other? That means that we have existed in a +previous life, but have lost the recollection of it." + +This conclusion--which seemed to me at the time both clear and novel, +but the arguments for which it would be difficult for me, at this +distance of time, to piece together--pleased me extremely, so I took a +piece of paper and tried to write it down. But at the first attempt +such a rush of other thoughts came whirling though my brain that I was +obliged to jump up and pace the room. At the window, my attention was +arrested by a driver harnessing a horse to a water-cart, and at once my +mind concentrated itself upon the decision of the question, "Into what +animal or human being will the spirit of that horse pass at death?" Just +at that moment, Woloda passed through the room, and smiled to see me +absorbed in speculative thoughts. His smile at once made me feel that +all that I had been thinking about was utter nonsense. + +I have related all this as I recollect it in order to show the reader +the nature of my cogitations. No philosophical theory attracted me so +much as scepticism, which at one period brought me to a state of mind +verging upon insanity. I took the fancy into my head that no one nor +anything really existed in the world except myself--that objects were +not objects at all, but that images of them became manifest only so soon +as I turned my attention upon them, and vanished again directly that +I ceased to think about them. In short, this idea of mine (that real +objects do not exist, but only one's conception of them) brought me to +Schelling's well-known theory. There were moments when the influence +of this idea led me to such vagaries as, for instance, turning sharply +round, in the hope that by the suddenness of the movement I should come +in contact with the void which I believed to be existing where I myself +purported to be! + +What a pitiful spring of moral activity is the human intellect! My +faulty reason could not define the impenetrable. Consequently it +shattered one fruitless conviction after another--convictions which, +happily for my after life, I never lacked the courage to abandon as soon +as they proved inadequate. From all this weary mental struggle I derived +only a certain pliancy of mind, a weakening of the will, a habit +of perpetual moral analysis, and a diminution both of freshness of +sentiment and of clearness of thought. Usually abstract thinking +develops man's capacity for apprehending the bent of his mind at certain +moments and laying it to heart, but my inclination for abstract thought +developed my consciousness in such a way that often when I began to +consider even the simplest matter, I would lose myself in a labyrinthine +analysis of my own thoughts concerning the matter in question. That is +to say, I no longer thought of the matter itself, but only of what I was +thinking about it. If I had then asked myself, "Of what am I thinking?" +the true answer would have been, "I am thinking of what I am thinking;" +and if I had further asked myself, "What, then, are the thoughts of +which I am thinking?" I should have had to reply, "They are attempts +to think of what I am thinking concerning my own thoughts"--and so on. +Reason, with me, had to yield to excess of reason. Every philosophical +discovery which I made so flattered my conceit that I often imagined +myself to be a great man discovering new truths for the benefit of +humanity. Consequently, I looked down with proud dignity upon my +fellow-mortals. Yet, strange to state, no sooner did I come in contact +with those fellow-mortals than I became filled with a stupid shyness of +them, and, the higher I happened to be standing in my own opinion, the +less did I feel capable of making others perceive my consciousness of +my own dignity, since I could not rid myself of a sense of diffidence +concerning even the simplest of my words and acts. + + + + +XX. WOLODA + +THE further I advance in the recital of this period of my life, the more +difficult and onerous does the task become. Too rarely do I find among +the reminiscences of that time any moments full of the ardent feeling +of sincerity which so often and so cheeringly illumined my childhood. +Gladly would I pass in haste over my lonely boyhood, the sooner to +arrive at the happy time when once again a tender, sincere, and noble +friendship marked with a gleam of light at once the termination of that +period and the beginning of a phase of my youth which was full of the +charm of poetry. Therefore, I will not pursue my recollections from hour +to hour, but only throw a cursory glance at the most prominent of them, +from the time to which I have now carried my tale to the moment of +my first contact with the exceptional personality that was fated to +exercise such a decisive influence upon my character and ideas. + +Woloda was about to enter the University. Tutors came to give +him lessons independently of myself, and I listened with envy and +involuntary respect as he drew boldly on the blackboard with white chalk +and talked about "functions," "sines," and so forth--all of which seemed +to me terms pertaining to unattainable wisdom. At length, one Sunday +before luncheon all the tutors--and among them two professors--assembled +in Grandmamma's room, and in the presence of Papa and some friends put +Woloda through a rehearsal of his University examination--in which, +to Grandmamma's delight, he gave evidence of no ordinary amount of +knowledge. + +Questions on different subjects were also put to me, but on all of +them I showed complete ignorance, while the fact that the professors +manifestly endeavoured to conceal that ignorance from Grandmamma only +confused me the more. Yet, after all, I was only fifteen, and so had a +year before me in which to prepare for the examinations. Woloda now came +downstairs for luncheon only, and spent whole days and evenings over +his studies in his own room--to which he kept, not from necessity, but +because he preferred its seclusion. He was very ambitious, and meant to +pass the examinations, not by halves, but with flying colours. + +The first day arrived. Woloda was wearing a new blue frockcoat with +brass buttons, a gold watch, and shiny boots. At the door stood Papa's +phaeton, which Nicola duly opened; and presently, when Woloda and +St. Jerome set out for the University, the girls--particularly +Katenka--could be seen gazing with beaming faces from the window at +Woloda's pleasing figure as it sat in the carriage. Papa said several +times, "God go with him!" and Grandmamma, who also had dragged herself +to the window, continued to make the sign of the cross as long as the +phaeton was visible, as well as to murmur something to herself. + +When Woloda returned, every one eagerly crowded round him. "How many +marks? Were they good ones?" "Yes." But his happy face was an answer in +itself. He had received five marks-the maximum! The next day, he sped on +his way with the same good wishes and the same anxiety for his success, +and was welcomed home with the same eagerness and joy. + +This lasted for nine days. On the tenth day there was to be the last and +most difficult examination of all--the one in divinity. + +We all stood at the window, and watched for him with greater impatience +than ever. Two o'clock, and yet no Woloda. + +"Here they come, Papa! Here they come!" suddenly screamed Lubotshka as +she peered through the window. + +Sure enough the phaeton was driving up with St. Jerome and Woloda--the +latter no longer in his grey cap and blue frockcoat, but in the uniform +of a student of the University, with its embroidered blue collar, +three-cornered hat, and gilded sword. + +"Ah! If only SHE had been alive now!" exclaimed Grandmamma on seeing +Woloda in this dress, and swooned away. + +Woloda enters the anteroom with a beaming face, and embraces myself, +Lubotshka, Mimi, and Katenka--the latter blushing to her ears. He hardly +knows himself for joy. And how smart he looks in that uniform! How well +the blue collar suits his budding, dark moustache! What a tall, elegant +figure is his, and what a distinguished walk! + +On that memorable day we all lunched together in Grandmamma's room. +Every face expressed delight, and with the dessert which followed the +meal the servants, with grave but gratified faces, brought in bottles of +champagne. + +Grandmamma, for the first time since Mamma's death, drank a full glass +of the wine to Woloda's health, and wept for joy as she looked at him. + +Henceforth Woloda drove his own turn-out, invited his own friends, +smoked, and went to balls. On one occasion, I even saw him sharing a +couple of bottles of champagne with some guests in his room, and the +whole company drinking a toast, with each glass, to some mysterious +being, and then quarrelling as to who should have the bottom of the +bottle! + +Nevertheless he always lunched at home, and after the meal would stretch +himself on a sofa and talk confidentially to Katenka: yet from what I +overheard (while pretending, of course, to pay no attention) I gathered +that they were only talking of the heroes and heroines of novels which +they had read, or else of jealousy and love, and so on. Never could I +understand what they found so attractive in these conversations, nor why +they smiled so happily and discussed things with such animation. + +Altogether I could see that, in addition to the friendship natural to +persons who had been companions from childhood, there existed between +Woloda and Katenka a relation which differentiated them from us, and +united them mysteriously to one another. + + + + +XXI. KATENKA AND LUBOTSHKA + +Katenka was now sixteen years old--quite a grown-up girl; and although +at that age the angular figures, the bashfulness, and the gaucherie +peculiar to girls passing from childhood to youth usually replace the +comely freshness and graceful, half-developed bloom of childhood, she +had in no way altered. Still the blue eyes with their merry glance were +hers, the well-shaped nose with firm nostrils and almost forming a line +with the forehead, the little mouth with its charming smile, the dimples +in the rosy cheeks, and the small white hands. To her, the epithet of +"girl," pure and simple, was pre-eminently applicable, for in her the +only new features were a new and "young-lady-like" arrangement of her +thick flaxen hair and a youthful bosom--the latter an addition which at +once caused her great joy and made her very bashful. + +Although Lubotshka and she had grown up together and received the same +education, they were totally unlike one another. Lubotshka was not tall, +and the rickets from which she had suffered had shaped her feet in goose +fashion and made her figure very bad. The only pretty feature in her +face was her eyes, which were indeed wonderful, being large and black, +and instinct with such an extremely pleasing expression of mingled +gravity and naivete that she was bound to attract attention. In +everything she was simple and natural, so that, whereas Katenka always +looked as though she were trying to be like some one else, Lubotshka +looked people straight in the face, and sometimes fixed them so long +with her splendid black eyes that she got blamed for doing what was +thought to be improper. Katenka, on the contrary, always cast her +eyelids down, blinked, and pretended that she was short-sighted, though +I knew very well that her sight was excellent. Lubotshka hated being +shown off before strangers, and when a visitor offered to kiss her she +invariably grew cross, and said that she hated "affection"; whereas, +when strangers were present, Katenka was always particularly endearing +to Mimi, and loved to walk about the room arm in arm with another girl. +Likewise, though Lubotshka was a terrible giggler, and sometimes ran +about the room in convulsions of gesticulating laughter, Katenka always +covered her mouth with her hands or her pocket-handkerchief when she +wanted to laugh. Lubotshka, again, loved to have grown-up men to talk +to, and said that some day she meant to marry a hussar, but Katenka +always pretended that all men were horrid, and that she never meant to +marry any one of them, while as soon as a male visitor addressed her she +changed completely, as though she were nervous of something. Likewise, +Lubotshka was continually at loggerheads with Mimi because the latter +wanted her to have her stays so tight that she could not breathe or eat +or drink in comfort, while Katenka, on the contrary, would often insert +her finger into her waistband to show how loose it was, and always ate +very little. Lubotshka liked to draw heads; Katenka only flowers and +butterflies. The former could play Field's concertos and Beethoven's +sonatas excellently, whereas the latter indulged in variations and +waltzes, retarded the time, and used the pedals continuously--not to +mention the fact that, before she began, she invariably struck three +chords in arpeggio. + +Nevertheless, in those days I thought Katenka much the grander person of +the two, and liked her the best. + + + + +XXII. PAPA + +Papa had been in a particularly good humour ever since Woloda had passed +into the University, and came much oftener to dine with Grandmamma. +However, I knew from Nicola that he had won a great deal lately. +Occasionally, he would come and sit with us in the evening before going +to the club. He used to sit down to the piano and bid us group ourselves +around him, after which he would beat time with his thin boots (he +detested heels, and never wore them), and make us sing gipsy songs. At +such times you should have seen the quaint enthusiasm of his beloved +Lubotshka, who adored him! + +Sometimes, again, he would come to the schoolroom and listen with a +grave face as I said my lessons; yet by the few words which he would let +drop when correcting me, I could see that he knew even less about the +subject than I did. Not infrequently, too, he would wink at us and make +secret signs when Grandmamma was beginning to scold us and find fault +with us all round. "So much for us children!" he would say. On +the whole, however, the impossible pinnacle upon which my childish +imagination had placed him had undergone a certain abasement. I still +kissed his large white hand with a certain feeling of love and respect, +but I also allowed myself to think about him and to criticise his +behaviour until involuntarily thoughts occurred to me which alarmed me +by their presence. Never shall I forget one incident in particular which +awakened thoughts of this kind, and caused me intense astonishment. Late +one evening, he entered the drawing-room in his black dress-coat and +white waistcoat, to take Woloda (who was still dressing in his bedroom) +to a ball. Grandmamma was also in her bedroom, but had given orders +that, before setting out, Woloda was to come and say goodbye to her (it +was her invariable custom to inspect him before he went to a ball, and +to bless him and direct him as to his behaviour). The room where we were +was lighted by a solitary lamp. Mimi and Katenka were walking up +and down, and Lubotshka was playing Field's Second Concerto (Mamma's +favourite piece) at the piano. Never was there such a family likeness as +between Mamma and my sister--not so much in the face or the stature as +in the hands, the walk, the voice, the favourite expressions, and, +above all, the way of playing the piano and the whole demeanour at the +instrument. Lubotshka always arranged her dress when sitting down just +as Mamma had done, as well as turned the leaves like her, tapped her +fingers angrily and said "Dear me!" whenever a difficult passage did not +go smoothly, and, in particular, played with the delicacy and exquisite +purity of touch which in those days caused the execution of Field's +music to be known characteristically as "jeu perle" and to lie beyond +comparison with the humbug of our modern virtuosi. + +Papa entered the room with short, soft steps, and approached Lubotshka. +On seeing him she stopped playing. + +"No, go on, Luba, go on," he said as he forced her to sit down again. +She went on playing, while Papa, his head on his hand, sat near her for +a while. Then suddenly he gave his shoulders a shrug, and, rising, began +to pace the room. Every time that he approached the piano he halted +for a moment and looked fixedly at Lubotshka. By his walk and his +every movement, I could see that he was greatly agitated. Once, when he +stopped behind Lubotshka, he kissed her black hair, and then, wheeling +quickly round, resumed his pacing. The piece finished, Lubotshka went up +to him and said, "Was it well played?" whereupon, without answering, he +took her head in his two hands, and kissed her forehead and eyes with +such tenderness as I had never before seen him display. + +"Why, you are crying!" cried Lubotshka suddenly as she ceased to toy +with his watch-chain and stared at him with her great black eyes. +"Pardon me, darling Papa! I had quite forgotten that it was dear Mamma's +piece which I was playing." + +"No, no, my love; play it often," he said in a voice trembling with +emotion. "Ah, if you only knew how much good it does me to share your +tears!" + +He kissed her again, and then, mastering his feelings and shrugging +his shoulders, went to the door leading to the corridor which ran past +Woloda's room. + +"Waldemar, shall you be ready soon?" he cried, halting in the middle of +the passage. Just then Masha came along. + +"Why, you look prettier every day," he said to her. She blushed and +passed on. + +"Waldemar, shall you be ready soon?" he cried again, with a cough and a +shake of his shoulders, just as Masha slipped away and he first caught +sight of me. + +I loved Papa, but the intellect is independent of the heart, and often +gives birth to thoughts which offend and are harsh and incomprehensible +to the feelings. And it was thoughts of this kind that, for all I strove +to put them away, arose at that moment in my mind. + + + + +XXIII. GRANDMAMMA + +Grandmamma was growing weaker every day. Her bell, Gasha's grumbling +voice, and the slamming of doors in her room were sounds of constant +occurrence, and she no longer received us sitting in the Voltairian +arm-chair in her boudoir, but lying on the bed in her bedroom, supported +on lace-trimmed cushions. One day when she greeted us, I noticed a +yellowish-white swelling on her hand, and smelt the same oppressive +odour which I had smelt five years ago in Mamma's room. The doctor came +three times a day, and there had been more than one consultation. Yet +the character of her haughty, ceremonious bearing towards all who lived +with her, and particularly towards Papa, never changed in the least. She +went on emphasising certain words, raising her eyebrows, and saying "my +dear," just as she had always done. + +Then for a few days we did not see her at all, and one morning St. +Jerome proposed to me that Woloda and I should take Katenka and +Lubotshka for a drive during the hours generally allotted to study. +Although I observed that the street was lined with straw under the +windows of Grandmamma's room, and that some men in blue stockings +[Undertaker's men.] were standing at our gate, the reason never dawned +upon me why we were being sent out at that unusual hour. Throughout +the drive Lubotshka and I were in that particularly merry mood when the +least trifle, the least word or movement, sets one off laughing. + +A pedlar went trotting across the road with a tray, and we laughed. +Some ragged cabmen, brandishing their reins and driving at full speed, +overtook our sledge, and we laughed again. Next, Philip's whip got +caught in the side of the vehicle, and the way in which he said, "Bother +the thing!" as he drove to disentangle it almost killed us with mirth. +Mimi looked displeased, and said that only silly people laughed for +no reason at all, but Lubotshka--her face purple with suppressed +merriment--needed but to give me a sly glance, and we again burst out +into such Homeric laughter, when our eyes met, that the tears rushed +into them and we could not stop our paroxysms, although they nearly +choked us. Hardly, again, had we desisted a little when I looked at +Lubotshka once more, and gave vent to one of the slang words which we +then affected among ourselves--words which always called forth hilarity; +and in a moment we were laughing again. + +Just as we reached home, I was opening my mouth to make a splendid +grimace at Lubotshka when my eye fell upon a black coffin-cover which +was leaning against the gate--and my mouth remained fixed in its gaping +position. + +"Your Grandmamma is dead," said St. Jerome as he met us. His face was +very pale. + +Throughout the whole time that Grandmamma's body was in the house I was +oppressed with the fear of death, for the corpse served as a forcible +and disagreeable reminder that I too must die some day--a feeling which +people often mistake for grief. I had no sincere regret for Grandmamma, +nor, I think, had any one else, since, although the house was full of +sympathising callers, nobody seemed to mourn for her from their hearts +except one mourner whose genuine grief made a great impression upon me, +seeing that the mourner in question was--Gasha! She shut herself up in +the garret, tore her hair and refused all consolation, saying that, now +that her mistress was dead, she only wished to die herself. + +I again assert that, in matters of feeling, it is the unexpected effects +that constitute the most reliable signs of sincerity. + +Though Grandmamma was no longer with us, reminiscences and gossip about +her long went on in the house. Such gossip referred mostly to her will, +which she had made shortly before her death, and of which, as yet, no +one knew the contents except her bosom friend, Prince Ivan Ivanovitch. +I could hear the servants talking excitedly together, and making +innumerable conjectures as to the amount left and the probable +beneficiaries: nor can I deny that the idea that we ourselves were +probably the latter greatly pleased me. + +Six weeks later, Nicola--who acted as regular news-agent to the +house--informed me that Grandmamma had left the whole of her fortune to +Lubotshka, with, as her trustee until her majority, not Papa, but Prince +Ivan Ivanovitch! + + + + +XXIV. MYSELF + +Only a few months remained before I was to matriculate for the +University, yet I was making such good progress that I felt no +apprehensions, and even took a pleasure in my studies. I kept in good +heart, and learnt my lessons fluently and intelligently. The faculty +I had selected was the mathematical one--probably, to tell the truth, +because the terms "tangent," "differentials," "integrals," and so forth, +pleased my fancy. + +Though stout and broad-shouldered, I was shorter than Woloda, while my +ugliness of face still remained and tormented me as much as ever. By way +of compensation, I tried to appear original. Yet one thing comforted +me, namely, that Papa had said that I had "an INTELLIGENT face." I quite +believed him. + +St. Jerome was not only satisfied with me, but actually had taken to +praising me. Consequently, I had now ceased to hate him. In fact, when, +one day, he said that, with my "capacities" and my "intellect," it would +be shameful for me not to accomplish this, that, or the other thing, I +believe I almost liked him. + +I had long ago given up keeping observation on the maidservants' room, +for I was now ashamed to hide behind doors. Likewise, I confess that +the knowledge of Masha's love for Basil had greatly cooled my ardour +for her, and that my passion underwent a final cure by their marriage--a +consummation to which I myself contributed by, at Basil's request, +asking Papa's consent to the union. + +When the newly-married couple brought trays of cakes and sweetmeats to +Papa as a thank-offering, and Masha, in a cap with blue ribbons, kissed +each of us on the shoulder in token of her gratitude, I merely noticed +the scent of the rose pomade on her hair, but felt no other sensation. + +In general, I was beginning to get the better of my youthful defects, +with the exception of the principal one--the one of which I shall often +again have to speak in relating my life's history--namely, the tendency +to abstract thought. + + + + +XXV. WOLODA'S FRIENDS + +Although, when in the society of Woloda's friends, I had to play a part +that hurt my pride, I liked sitting in his room when he had visitors, +and silently watching all they did. The two who came most frequently +to see him were a military adjutant called Dubkoff and a student named +Prince Nechludoff. Dubkoff was a little dark-haired, highly-strung man +who, though short of stature and no longer in his first youth, had +a pleasing and invariably cheerful air. His was one of those limited +natures which are agreeable through their very limitations; natures +which cannot regard matters from every point of view, but which are +nevertheless attracted by everything. Usually the reasoning of such +persons is false and one-sided, yet always genuine and taking; wherefore +their narrow egotism seems both amiable and excusable. There were two +other reasons why Dubkoff had charms for Woloda and myself--namely, +the fact that he was of military appearance, and, secondly (and +principally), the fact that he was of a certain age--an age with which +young people are apt to associate that quality of "gentlemanliness" +which is so highly esteemed at their time of life. However, he was in +very truth un homme comme il faut. The only thing which I did not like +about it all was that, in his presence, Woloda always seemed ashamed +of my innocent behaviour, and still more so of my youthfulness. As for +Prince Nechludoff, he was in no way handsome, since neither his small +grey eyes, his low, projecting forehead, nor his disproportionately long +hands and feet could be called good features. The only good points about +him were his unusually tall stature, his delicate colouring, and +his splendid teeth. Nevertheless, his face was of such an original, +energetic character (owing to his narrow, sparkling eyes and +ever-changing expression--now stern, now childlike, now smiling +indeterminately) that it was impossible to help noticing it. As a rule +he was very shy, and would blush to the ears at the smallest trifle, but +it was a shyness altogether different from mine, seeing that, the more +he blushed, the more determined-looking he grew, as though he were vexed +at his own weakness. + +Although he was on very good terms with Woloda and Dubkoff, it was +clearly chance which had united them thus, since their tastes were +entirely dissimilar. Woloda and Dubkoff seemed to be afraid of anything +like serious consideration or emotion, whereas Nechludoff was beyond all +things an enthusiast, and would often, despite their sarcastic remarks, +plunge into dissertations on philosophical matters or matters of +feeling. Again, the two former liked talking about the fair objects of +their adoration (these were always numerous, and always shared by the +friends in common), whereas Nechludoff invariably grew annoyed when +taxed with his love for a certain red-haired lady. + +Again, Woloda and Dubkoff often permitted themselves to criticise their +relatives, and to find amusement in so doing, but Nechludoff flew into +a tremendous rage when on one occasion they referred to some weak points +in the character of an aunt of his whom he adored. Finally, after supper +Woloda and Dubkoff would usually go off to some place whither Nechludoff +would not accompany them; wherefore they called him "a dainty girl." + +The very first time that I ever saw Prince Nechludoff I was struck +with his exterior and conversation. Yet, though I could discern a great +similarity between his disposition and my own (or perhaps it was because +I COULD so discern it), the impression which he produced upon me at +first was anything but agreeable. I liked neither his quick glance, his +hard voice, his proud bearing, nor (least of all) the utter indifference +with which he treated me. Often, when conversing, I burned to contradict +him, to punish his pride by confuting him, to show him that I was clever +in spite of his disdainful neglect of my presence. But I was invariably +prevented from doing so by my shyness. + + + + +XXVI. DISCUSSIONS + +Woloda was lying reading a French novel on the sofa when I paid my usual +visit to his room after my evening lessons. He looked up at me for a +moment from his book, and then went on reading. This perfectly simple +and natural movement, however, offended me. I conceived that the glance +implied a question why I had come and a wish to hide his thoughts from +me (I may say that at that period a tendency to attach a meaning to the +most insignificant of acts formed a prominent feature in my character). +So I went to the table and also took up a book to read. Yet, even before +I had actually begun reading, the idea struck me how ridiculous it was +that, although we had never seen one another all day, we should have not +a word to exchange. + +"Are you going to stay in to-night, Woloda?" + +"I don't know. Why?" + +"Oh, because--" Seeing that the conversation did not promise to be +a success, I took up my book again, and began to read. Yet it was a +strange thing that, though we sometimes passed whole hours together +without speaking when we were alone, the mere presence of a +third--sometimes of a taciturn and wholly uninteresting person--sufficed +to plunge us into the most varied and engrossing of discussions. The +truth was that we knew one another too well, and to know a person either +too well or too little acts as a bar to intimacy. + +"Is Woloda at home?" came in Dubkoff's voice from the ante-room. + +"Yes!" shouted Woloda, springing up and throwing aside his book. + +Dubkoff and Nechludoff entered. + +"Are you coming to the theatre, Woloda?" + +"No, I have no time," he replied with a blush. + +"Oh, never mind that. Come along." + +"But I haven't got a ticket." + +"Tickets, as many as you like, at the entrance." + +"Very well, then; I'll be back in a minute," said Woloda evasively as +he left the room. I knew very well that he wanted to go, but that he +had declined because he had no money, and had now gone to borrow five +roubles of one of the servants--to be repaid when he got his next +allowance. + +"How do you do, DIPLOMAT?" said Dubkoff to me as he shook me by the +hand. Woloda's friends had called me by that nickname since the day when +Grandmamma had said at luncheon that Woloda must go into the army, but +that she would like to see me in the diplomatic service, dressed in a +black frock-coat, and with my hair arranged a la coq (the two essential +requirements, in her opinion, of a DIPLOMAT). + +"Where has Woloda gone to?" asked Nechludoff. + +"I don't know," I replied, blushing to think that nevertheless they had +probably guessed his errand. + +"I suppose he has no money? Yes, I can see I am right, O diplomatist," +he added, taking my smile as an answer in the affirmative. "Well, I have +none, either. Have you any, Dubkoff?" + +"I'll see," replied Dubkoff, feeling for his pocket, and rummaging +gingerly about with his squat little fingers among his small change. +"Yes, here are five copecks-twenty, but that's all," he concluded with a +comic gesture of his hand. + +At this point Woloda re-entered. + +"Are we going?" + +"No." + +"What an odd fellow you are!" said Nechludoff. "Why don't you say that +you have no money? Here, take my ticket." + +"But what are you going to do?" + +"He can go into his cousin's box," said Dubkoff. + +"No, I'm not going at all," replied Nechludoff. + +"Why?" + +"Because I hate sitting in a box." + +"And for what reason?" + +"I don't know. Somehow I feel uncomfortable there." + +"Always the same! I can't understand a fellow feeling uncomfortable +when he is sitting with people who are fond of him. It is unnatural, mon +cher." + +"But what else is there to be done si je suis tant timide? You never +blushed in your life, but I do at the least trifle," and he blushed at +that moment. + +"Do you know what that nervousness of yours proceeds from?" said Dubkoff +in a protecting sort of tone, "D'un exces d'amour propre, mon cher." + +"What do you mean by 'exces d'amour propre'?" asked Nechludoff, highly +offended. "On the contrary, I am shy just because I have TOO LITTLE +amour propre. I always feel as though I were being tiresome and +disagreeable, and therefore--" + +"Well, get ready, Woloda," interrupted Dubkoff, tapping my brother on +the shoulder and handing him his cloak. "Ignaz, get your master ready." + +"Therefore," continued Nechludoff, "it often happens with me that--" + +But Dubkoff was not listening. "Tra-la-la-la," and he hummed a popular +air. + +"Oh, but I'm not going to let you off," went on Nechludoff. "I mean to +prove to you that my shyness is not the result of conceit." + +"You can prove it as we go along." + +"But I have told you that I am NOT going." + +"Well, then, stay here and prove it to the DIPLOMAT, and he can tell us +all about it when we return." + +"Yes, that's what I WILL do," said Nechludoff with boyish obstinacy, "so +hurry up with your return." + +"Well, do you think I am egotistic?" he continued, seating himself +beside me. + +True, I had a definite opinion on the subject, but I felt so taken aback +by this unexpected question that at first I could make no reply. + +"Yes, I DO think so," I said at length in a faltering voice, and +colouring at the thought that at last the moment had come when I could +show him that I was clever. "I think that EVERYBODY is egotistic, and +that everything we do is done out of egotism." + +"But what do you call egotism?" asked Nechludoff--smiling, as I thought, +a little contemptuously. + +"Egotism is a conviction that we are better and cleverer than any one +else," I replied. + +"But how can we ALL be filled with this conviction?" he inquired. + +"Well, I don't know if I am right or not--certainly no one but myself +seems to hold the opinion--but I believe that I am wiser than any one +else in the world, and that all of you know it." + +"At least I can say for myself," observed Nechludoff, "that I have met a +FEW people whom I believe to excel me in wisdom." + +"It is impossible," I replied with conviction. + +"Do you really think so?" he said, looking at me gravely. + +"Yes, really," I answered, and an idea crossed my mind which I proceeded +to expound further. "Let me prove it to you. Why do we love ourselves +better than any one else? Because we think ourselves BETTER than any +one else--more worthy of our own love. If we THOUGHT others better than +ourselves, we should LOVE them better than ourselves: but that is never +the case. And even if it were so, I should still be right," I added with +an involuntary smile of complacency. + +For a few minutes Nechludoff was silent. + +"I never thought you were so clever," he said with a smile so +goodhumoured and charming that I at once felt happy. + +Praise exercises an all-potent influence, not only upon the feelings, +but also upon the intellect; so that under the influence of that +agreeable sensation I straightway felt much cleverer than before, and +thoughts began to rush with extraordinary rapidity through my head. +From egotism we passed insensibly to the theme of love, which seemed +inexhaustible. Although our reasonings might have sounded nonsensical to +a listener (so vague and one-sided were they), for ourselves they had a +profound significance. Our minds were so perfectly in harmony that not a +chord was struck in the one without awakening an echo in the other, and +in this harmonious striking of different chords we found the greatest +delight. Indeed, we felt as though time and language were insufficient +to express the thoughts which seethed within us. + + + + +XXVII. THE BEGINNING OF OUR FRIENDSHIP + +From that time forth, a strange, but exceedingly pleasant, relation +subsisted between Dimitri Nechludoff and myself. Before other people he +paid me scanty attention, but as soon as ever we were alone, we would +sit down together in some comfortable corner and, forgetful both of time +and of everything around us, fall to reasoning. + +We talked of a future life, of art, service, marriage, and education; +nor did the idea ever occur to us that very possibly all we said was +shocking nonsense. The reason why it never occurred to us was that the +nonsense which we talked was good, sensible nonsense, and that, so long +as one is young, one can appreciate good nonsense, and believe in it. In +youth the powers of the mind are directed wholly to the future, and +that future assumes such various, vivid, and alluring forms under the +influence of hope--hope based, not upon the experience of the past, but +upon an assumed possibility of happiness to come--that such dreams of +expected felicity constitute in themselves the true happiness of that +period of our life. How I loved those moments in our metaphysical +discussions (discussions which formed the major portion of our +intercourse) when thoughts came thronging faster and faster, and, +succeeding one another at lightning speed, and growing more and more +abstract, at length attained such a pitch of elevation that one felt +powerless to express them, and said something quite different from what +one had intended at first to say! How I liked those moments, too, when, +carried higher and higher into the realms of thought, we suddenly felt +that we could grasp its substance no longer and go no further! + +At carnival time Nechludoff was so much taken up with one festivity and +another that, though he came to see us several times a day, he never +addressed a single word to me. This offended me so much that once again +I found myself thinking him a haughty, disagreeable fellow, and only +awaited an opportunity to show him that I no longer valued his company +or felt any particular affection for him. Accordingly, the first time +that he spoke to me after the carnival, I said that I had lessons to do, +and went upstairs, but a quarter of an hour later some one opened the +schoolroom door, and Nechludoff entered. + +"Am I disturbing you?" he asked. + +"No," I replied, although I had at first intended to say that I had a +great deal to do. + +"Then why did you run away just now? It is a long while since we had a +talk together, and I have grown so accustomed to these discussions that +I feel as though something were wanting." + +My anger had quite gone now, and Dimitri stood before me the same good +and lovable being as before. + +"You know, perhaps, why I ran away?" I said. + +"Perhaps I do," he answered, taking a seat near me. "However, though it +is possible I know why, I cannot say it straight out, whereas YOU can." + +"Then I will do so. I ran away because I was angry with you--well, not +angry, but grieved. I always have an idea that you despise me for being +so young." + +"Well, do you know why I always feel so attracted towards you?" he +replied, meeting my confession with a look of kind understanding, "and +why I like you better than any of my other acquaintances or than any of +the people among whom I mostly have to live? It is because I found out +at once that you have the rare and astonishing gift of sincerity." + +"Yes, I always confess the things of which I am most ashamed--but only +to people in whom I trust," I said. + +"Ah, but to trust a man you must be his friend completely, and we +are not friends yet, Nicolas. Remember how, when we were speaking of +friendship, we agreed that, to be real friends, we ought to trust one +another implicitly." + +"I trust you in so far as that I feel convinced that you would never +repeat a word of what I might tell you," I said. + +"Yet perhaps the most interesting and important thoughts of all are +just those which we never tell one another, while the mean thoughts +(the thoughts which, if we only knew that we had to confess them to +one another, would probably never have the hardihood to enter our +minds)--Well, do you know what I am thinking of, Nicolas?" he broke off, +rising and taking my hand with a smile. "I propose (and I feel sure +that it would benefit us mutually) that we should pledge our word to one +another to tell each other EVERYTHING. We should then really know each +other, and never have anything on our consciences. And, to guard against +outsiders, let us also agree never to speak of one another to a third +person. Suppose we do that?" + +"I agree," I replied. And we did it. What the result was shall be told +hereafter. + +Kerr has said that every attachment has two sides: one loves, and the +other allows himself to be loved; one kisses, and the other surrenders +his cheek. That is perfectly true. In the case of our own attachment it +was I who kissed, and Dimitri who surrendered his cheek--though he, in +his turn, was ready to pay me a similar salute. We loved equally because +we knew and appreciated each other thoroughly, but this did not prevent +him from exercising an influence over me, nor myself from rendering him +adoration. + +It will readily be understood that Nechludoff's influence caused me +to adopt his bent of mind, the essence of which lay in an enthusiastic +reverence for ideal virtue and a firm belief in man's vocation to +perpetual perfection. To raise mankind, to abolish vice and misery, +seemed at that time a task offering no difficulties. To educate oneself +to every virtue, and so to achieve happiness, seemed a simple and easy +matter. + +Only God Himself knows whether those blessed dreams of youth were +ridiculous, or whose the fault was that they never became realised. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Boyhood, by Leo Tolstoy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOYHOOD *** + +***** This file should be named 2450.txt or 2450.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/5/2450/ + +Produced by Martin Adamson and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Article on the Census in Moscow, by Count +Lyof N. Tolstoi, Translated by Isabel F. Hapgood + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Article on the Census in Moscow + + +Author: Count Lyof N. Tolstoi + + + +Release Date: December 27, 2007 [eBook #3540] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ARTICLE ON THE CENSUS IN MOSCOW*** + + +Transcribed from the 1887 Tomas Y. Crowell "What to do?" edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org + + + + + +MOSCOW CENSUS--FROM "WHAT TO DO?" + + +ARTICLE ON THE CENSUS IN MOSCOW. [1882.] + + +The object of a census is scientific. A census is a sociological +investigation. And the object of the science of sociology is the +happiness of the people. This science and its methods differ sharply +from all other sciences. + +Its peculiarity lies in this, that sociological investigations are not +conducted by learned men in their cabinets, observatories and +laboratories, but by two thousand people from the community. A second +peculiarity is this, that the investigations of other sciences are not +conducted on living people, but here living people are the subjects. A +third peculiarity is, that the aim of every other science is simply +knowledge, while here it is the good of the people. One man may +investigate a nebula, but for the investigation of Moscow, two thousand +persons are necessary. The object of the study of nebulae is merely that +we may know about nebulae; the object of the study of inhabitants is that +sociological laws may be deduced, and that, on the foundation of these +laws, a better life for the people may be established. It makes no +difference to the nebula whether it is studied or not, and it has waited +long, and is ready to wait a great while longer; but it is not a matter +of indifference to the inhabitants of Moscow, especially to those +unfortunates who constitute the most interesting subjects of the science +of sociology. + +The census-taker enters a night lodging-house; in the basement he finds a +man dying of hunger, and he politely inquires his profession, his name, +his native place, the character of his occupation, and after a little +hesitation as to whether he is to be entered in the list as alive, he +writes him in and goes his way. + +And thus will the two thousand young men proceed. This is not as it +should be. + +Science does its work, and the community, summoned in the persons of +these two thousand young men to aid science, must do its work. A +statistician drawing his deductions from figures may feel indifferent +towards people, but we census-takers, who see these people and who have +no scientific prepossessions, cannot conduct ourselves towards them in an +inhuman manner. Science fulfils its task, and its work is for its +objects and in the distant future, both useful and necessary to us. For +men of science, we can calmly say, that in 1882 there were so many +beggars, so many prostitutes, and so many uncared-for children. Science +may say this with composure and with pride, because it knows that the +confirmation of this fact conduces to the elucidation of the laws of +sociology, and that the elucidation of the laws of sociology leads to a +better constitution of society. But what if we, the unscientific people, +say: "You are perishing in vice, you are dying of hunger, you are pining +away, and killing each other; so do not grieve about this; when you shall +have all perished, and hundreds of thousands more like you, then, +possibly, science may be able to arrange everything in an excellent +manner." For men of science, the census has its interest; and for us +also, it possesses an interest of a wholly different significance. The +interest and significance of the census for the community lie in this, +that it furnishes it with a mirror into which, willy nilly, the whole +community, and each one of us, gaze. + +The figures and deductions will be the mirror. It is possible to refrain +from reading them, as it is possible to turn away from the looking-glass. +It is possible to glance cursorily at both figures and mirror, and it is +also possible to scrutinize them narrowly. To go about in connection +with the census as thousands of people are now about to do, is to +scrutinize one's self closely in the mirror. + +What does this census, that is about to be made, mean for us people of +Moscow, who are not men of science? It means two things. In the first +place, this, that we may learn with certainty, that among us tens of +thousands who live in ease, there dwell tens of thousands of people who +lack bread, clothing and shelter; in the second place, this, that our +brothers and sons will go and view this and will calmly set down +according to the schedules, how many have died of hunger and cold. + +And both these things are very bad. + +All cry out upon the instability of our social organization, about the +exceptional situation, about revolutionary tendencies. Where lies the +root of all this? To what do the revolutionists point? To poverty, to +inequality in the distribution of wealth. To what do the conservatives +point? To the decline in moral principle. If the opinion of the +revolutionists is correct, what must be done? Poverty and the inequality +of wealth must be lessened. How is this to be effected? The rich must +share with the poor. If the opinion of the conservatives is correct, +that the whole evil arises from the decline in moral principle, what can +be more immoral and vicious than the consciously indifferent survey of +popular sufferings, with the sole object of cataloguing them? What must +be done? To the census we must add the work of affectionate intercourse +of the idle and cultivated rich, with the oppressed and unenlightened +poor. + +Science will do its work, let us perform ours also. Let us do this. In +the first place, let all of us who are occupied with the census, +superintendents and census-takers, make it perfectly clear to ourselves +what we are to investigate and why. It is the people, and the object is +that they may be happy. Whatever may be one's view of life, every one +will agree that there is nothing more important than human life, and that +there is no more weighty task than to remove the obstacles to the +development of this life, and to assist it. + +This idea, that the relations of men to poverty are at the foundation of +all popular suffering, is expressed in the Gospels with striking +harshness, but at the same time, with decision and clearness for all. + +"He who has clothed the naked, fed the hungry, visited the prisoner, that +man has clothed Me, fed Me, visited Me," that is, has done the deed for +that which is the most important thing in the world. + +However a man may look upon things, every one knows that this is more +important than all else on earth. + +And this must not be forgotten, and we must not permit any other +consideration to veil from us the most weighty fact of our existence. Let +us inscribe, and reckon, but let us not forget that if we encounter a man +who is hungry and without clothes, it is of more moment to succor him +than to make all possible investigations, than to discover all possible +sciences. Perish the whole census if we may but feed an old woman. The +census will be longer and more difficult, but we cannot pass by people in +the poorer quarters and merely note them down without taking any heed of +them and without endeavoring, according to the measure of our strength +and moral sensitiveness, to aid them. This in the first place. In the +second, this is what must be done: All of us, who are to take part in the +census, must refrain from irritation because we are annoyed; let us +understand that this census is very useful for us; that if this is not +cure, it is at least an effort to study the disease, for which we should +be thankful; that we must seize this occasion, and, in connection with +it, we must seek to recover our health, in some small degree. Let all of +us, then, who are connected with the census, endeavor to take advantage +of this solitary opportunity in ten years to purify ourselves somewhat; +let us not strive against, but assist the census, and assist it +especially in this sense, that it may not have merely the harsh character +of the investigation of a hopelessly sick person, but may have the +character of healing and restoration to health. For the occasion is +unique: eighty energetic, cultivated men, having under their orders two +thousand young men of the same stamp, are to make their way over the +whole of Moscow, and not leave a single man in Moscow with whom they have +not entered into personal relations. All the wounds of society, the +wounds of poverty, of vice, of ignorance--all will be laid bare. Is +there not something re-assuring in this? The census-takers will go about +Moscow, they will set down in their lists, without distinction, those +insolent with prosperity, the satisfied, the calm, those who are on the +way to ruin, and those who are ruined, and the curtain will fall. The +census-takers, our sons and brothers, these young men will behold all +this. They will say: "Yes, our life is very terrible and incurable," and +with this admission they will live on like the rest of us, awaiting a +remedy for the evil from this or that extraneous force. But those who +are perishing will go on dying, in their ruin, and those on the road to +ruin will continue in their course. No, let us rather grasp the idea +that science has its task, and that we, on the occasion of this census, +have our task, and let us not allow the curtain once lifted to be +dropped, but let us profit by the opportunity in order to remove the +immense evil of the separation existing between us and the poor, and to +establish intercourse and the work of redressing the evil of unhappiness +and ignorance, and our still greater misfortune,--the indifference and +aimlessness of our life. + +I already hear the customary remark: "All this is very fine, these are +sounding phrases; but do you tell us what to do and how to do it?" Before +I say what is to be done, it is indispensable that I should say what is +not to be done. It is indispensable, first of all, in my opinion, in +order that something practical may come of this activity, that no society +should be formed, that there should be no publicity, that there should be +no collection of money by balls, bazaars or theatres; that there should +be no announcement that Prince A. has contributed one thousand rubles, +and the honorable citizen B. three thousand; that there shall be no +collection, no calling to account, no writing up,--most of all, no +writing up, so that there may not be the least shadow of any institution, +either governmental or philanthropic. + +But in my opinion, this is what should be done instantly: Firstly, All +those who agree with me should go to the directors, and ask for their +shares the poorest sections, the poorest dwellings; and in company with +the census-takers, twenty-three, twenty-four or twenty-five in number, +they should go to these quarters, enter into relations with the people +who are in need of assistance, and labor for them. + +Secondly: We should direct the attention of the superintendents and +census-takers to the inhabitants in need of assistance, and work for them +personally, and point them out to those who wish to work over them. But +I am asked: What do you mean by _working over them_? I reply; Doing good +to people. The words "doing good" are usually understood to mean, giving +money. But, in my opinion, doing good and giving money are not only not +the same thing, but two different and generally opposite things. Money, +in itself, is evil. And therefore he who gives money gives evil. This +error of thinking that the giving of money means doing good, arose from +the fact, that generally, when a man does good, he frees himself from +evil, and from money among other evils. And therefore, to give money is +only a sign that a man is beginning to rid himself of evil. To do good, +signifies to do that which is good for man. But, in order to know what +is good for man, it is necessary to be on humane, i.e., on friendly terms +with him. And therefore, in order to do good, it is not money that is +necessary, but, first of all, a capacity for detaching ourselves, for a +time at least, from the conditions of our own life. It is necessary that +we should not be afraid to soil our boots and clothing, that we should +not fear lice and bedbugs, that we should not fear typhus fever, +diphtheria, and small-pox. It is necessary that we should be in a +condition to seat ourselves by the bunk of a tatterdemalion and converse +earnestly with him in such a manner, that he may feel that the man who is +talking with him respects and loves him, and is not putting on airs and +admiring himself. And in order that this may be so, it is necessary that +a man should find the meaning of life outside himself. This is what is +requisite in order that good should be done, and this is what it is +difficult to find. + +When the idea of assisting through the medium of the census occurred to +me, I discussed the matter with divers of the wealthy, and I saw how glad +the rich were of this opportunity of decently getting rid of their money, +that extraneous sin which they cherish in their hearts. "Take three +hundred--five hundred rubles, if you like," they said to me, "but I +cannot go into those dens myself." There was no lack of money. Remember +Zaccheus, the chief of the Publicans in the Gospel. Remember how he, +because he was small of stature, climbed into a tree to see Christ, and +how when Christ announced that he was going to his house, having +understood but one thing, that the Master did not approve of riches, he +leaped headlong from the tree, ran home and arranged his feast. And how, +as soon as Christ entered, Zaccheus instantly declared that he gave the +half of his goods to the poor, and if he had wronged any man, to him he +would restore fourfold. And remember how all of us, when we read the +Gospel, set but little store on this Zaccheus, and involuntarily look +with scorn on this half of his goods, and fourfold restitution. And our +feeling is correct. Zaccheus, according to his lights, performed a great +deed. He had not even begun to do good. He had only begun in some small +measure to purify himself from evil, and so Christ told him. + +He merely said to him: "To-day is salvation come nigh unto this house." + +What if the Moscow Zaccheuses were to do the same that he did? Assuredly, +more than one milliard could be collected. Well, and what of that? +Nothing. There would be still greater sin if we were to think of +distributing this money among the poor. Money is not needed. What is +needed is self-sacrificing action; what is needed are people who would +like to do good, not by giving extraneous sin-money, but by giving their +own labor, themselves, their lives. Where are such people to be found? +Here they are, walking about Moscow. They are the student enumerators. I +have seen how they write out their charts. The student writes in the +night lodging-house, by the bedside of a sick man. "What is your +disease?"--"Small-pox." And the student does not make a wry face, but +proceeds with his writing. And this he does for the sake of some +doubtful science. What would he do if he were doing it for the sake of +his own undoubted good and the good of others? + +When children, in merry mood, feel a desire to laugh, they never think of +devising some reason for laughter, but they laugh without any reason, +because they are gay; and thus these charming youths sacrifice +themselves. They have not, as yet, contrived to devise any means of +sacrificing themselves, but they devote their attention, their labor, +their lives, in order to write out a chart, from which something does or +does not appear. What would it be if this labor were something really +worth their while? There is and there always will be labor of this sort, +which is worthy of the devotion of a whole life, whatever the man's life +may be. This labor is the loving intercourse of man with man, and the +breaking-down of the barriers which men have erected between themselves, +so that the enjoyment of the rich man may not be disturbed by the wild +howls of the men who are reverting to beasts, and by the groans of +helpless hunger, cold and disease. + +This census will place before the eyes of us well-to-do and so-called +cultivated people, all the poverty and oppression which is lurking in +every corner of Moscow. Two thousand of our brothers, who stand on the +highest rung of the ladder, will come face to face with thousands of +people who stand on the lowest round of society. Let us not miss this +opportunity of communion. Let us, through these two thousand men, +preserve this communion, and let us make use of it to free ourselves from +the aimlessness and the deformity of our lives, and to free the condemned +from that indigence and misery which do not allow the sensitive people in +our ranks to enjoy our good fortune in peace. + +This is what I propose: (1) That all our directors and enumerators should +join to their business of the census a task of assistance,--of work in +the interest of the good of these people, who, in our opinion, are in +need of assistance, and with whom we shall come in contact; (2) That all +of us, directors and enumerators, not by appointment of the committee of +the City Council, but by the appointment of our own hearts, shall remain +in our posts,--that is, in our relations to the inhabitants of the town +who are in need of assistance,--and that, at the conclusion of the work +of the census, we shall continue our work of aid. If I have succeeded in +any degree in expressing what I feel, I am sure that the only +impossibility will be getting the directors and enumerators to abandon +this, and that others will present themselves in the places of those who +leave; (3) That we should collect all those inhabitants of Moscow, who +feel themselves fit to work for the needy, into sections, and begin our +activity now, in accordance with the hints of the census-takers and +directors, and afterwards carry it on; (4) That all who, on account of +age, weakness, or other causes, cannot give their personal labor among +the needy, shall intrust the task to their young, strong, and willing +relatives. (Good consists not in the giving of money, it consists in the +loving intercourse of men. This alone is needed.) + +Whatever may be the outcome of this, any thing will be better than the +present state of things. + +Then let the final act of our enumerators and directors be to distribute +a hundred twenty-kopek pieces to those who have no food; and this will be +not a little, not so much because the hungry will have food, but because +the directors and enumerators will conduct themselves in a humane manner +towards a hundred poor people. How are we to compute the possible +results which will accrue to the balance of public morality from the fact +that, instead of the sentiments of irritation, anger, and envy which we +arouse by reckoning the hungry, we shall awaken in a hundred instances a +sentiment of good, which will be communicated to a second and a third, +and an endless wave which will thus be set in motion and flow between +men? And this is a great deal. Let those of the two thousand +enumerators who have never comprehended this before, come to understand +that, when going about among the poor, it is impossible to say, "This is +very interesting;" that a man should not express himself with regard to +another man's wretchedness by interest only; and this will be a good +thing. Then let assistance be rendered to all those unfortunates, of +whom there are not so many as I at first supposed in Moscow, who can +easily be helped by money alone to a great extent. Then let those +laborers who have come to Moscow and have eaten their very clothing from +their backs, and who cannot return to the country, be despatched to their +homes; let the abandoned orphans receive supervision; let feeble old men +and indigent old women, who subsist on the charity of their companions, +be released from their half-famished and dying condition. (And this is +very possible. There are not very many of them.) And this will also be +a very, very great deal accomplished. But why not think and hope that +more and yet more will be done? Why not expect that that real task will +be partially carried out, or at least begun, which is effected, not by +money, but by labor; that weak drunkards who have lost their health, +unlucky thieves, and prostitutes who are still capable of reformation, +should be saved? All evil may not be exterminated, but there will arise +some understanding of it, and the contest with it will not be police +methods, but by inward modes,--by the brotherly intercourse of the men +who perceive the evil, with the men who do not perceive it because they +are a part of it. + +No matter what may be accomplished, it will be a great deal. But why not +hope that every thing will be accomplished? Why not hope that we shall +accomplish thus much, that there shall not exist in Moscow a single +person in want of clothing, a single hungry person, a single human being +sold for money, nor a single individual oppressed by the judgment of man, +who shall not know that there is fraternal aid for him? It is not +surprising that this should not be so, but it is surprising that this +should exist side by side with our superfluous leisure and wealth, and +that we can live on composedly, knowing that these things are so. Let us +forget that in great cities and in London, there is a proletariat, and +let us not say that so it must needs be. It need not be this, and it +should not, for this is contrary to our reason and our heart, and it +cannot be if we are living people. Why not hope that we shall come to +understand that there is not a single duty incumbent upon us, not to +mention personal duty, for ourselves, nor our family, nor social, nor +governmental, nor scientific, which is more weighty than this? Why not +think that we shall at last come to apprehend this? Only because to do +so would be too great a happiness. Why not hope that some the people +will wake up, and will comprehend that every thing else is a delusion, +but that this is the only work in life? And why should not this "some +time" be now, and in Moscow? Why not hope that the same thing may happen +in society and humanity which suddenly takes place in a diseased +organism, when the moment of convalescence suddenly sets in? The +organism is diseased this means, that the cells cease to perform their +mysterious functions; some die, others become infected, others still +remain in perfect condition, and work on by themselves. But all of a +sudden the moment comes when every living cell enters upon an independent +and healthy activity: it crowds out the dead cells, encloses the infected +ones in a living wall, it communicates life to that which was lifeless; +and the body is restored, and lives with new life. + +Why should we not think and expect that the cells of our society will +acquire fresh life and re-invigorate the organism? We know not in what +the power of the cells consists, but we do know that our life is in our +own power. We can show forth the light that is in us, or we may +extinguish it. + +Let one man approach the Lyapinsky house in the dusk, when a thousand +persons, naked and hungry, are waiting in the bitter cold for admission, +and let that one man attempt to help, and his heart will ache till it +bleeds, and he will flee thence with despair and anger against men; but +let a thousand men approach that other thousand with a desire to help, +and the task will prove easy and delightful. Let the mechanicians invent +a machine for lifting the weight that is crushing us--that is a good +thing; but until they shall have invented it, let us bear down upon the +people, like fools, like _muzhiki_, like peasants, like Christians, and +see whether we cannot raise them. + +And now, brothers, all together, and away it goes! + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ARTICLE ON THE CENSUS IN MOSCOW*** + + +******* This file should be named 3540.txt or 3540.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/5/4/3540 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +The Project Gutenberg eBook, What To Do?, by Count Lyof N. Tolstoi, +Translated by Isabel F. Hapgood + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: What To Do? + thoughts evoked by the census of Moscow + + +Author: Count Lyof N. Tolstoi + + + +Release Date: December 27, 2007 [eBook #3630] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHAT TO DO?*** + + +Transcribed from the 1887 Tomas Y. Crowell edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org + + + + + +WHAT TO DO? +THOUGHTS EVOKED BY THE CENSUS +OF MOSCOW + + +BY +COUNT LYOF N. TOLSTOI + +_TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN_ +BY ISABEL F. HAPGOOD + +NEW YORK +THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. +13 ASTOR PLACE +1887 + +COPYRIGHT, 1887, +BY THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. + +ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED +BY RAND AVERY COMPANY, +BOSTON. + + + + +TRANSLATOR'S NOTE. + + +Books which are prohibited by the Russian Censor are not always +inaccessible. An enterprising publishing-house in Geneva makes a +specialty of supplying the natural craving of man for forbidden fruit, +under which heading some of Count L. N. Tolstoi's essays belong. These +essays circulate in Russia in manuscript; and it is from one of these +manuscripts, which fell into the hands of the Geneva firm, that the first +half of the present translation has been made. It is thus that the +Censor's omissions have been noted, even in cases where such omissions +are in no way indicated in the twelfth volume of Count Tolstoi's +collected works, published in Moscow. As an interesting detail in this +connection, I may mention that this twelfth volume contains all that the +censor allows of "My Religion," amounting to a very much abridged scrap +of Chapter X. in the last-named volume as known to the public outside of +Russia. The last half of the present book has not been published by the +Geneva house, and omissions cannot be marked. + +ISABEL F. HAPGOOD + +BOSTON, Sept. 1, 1887 + + + + +ARTICLE ON THE CENSUS IN MOSCOW. [1882.] + + +The object of a census is scientific. A census is a sociological +investigation. And the object of the science of sociology is the +happiness of the people. This science and its methods differ sharply +from all other sciences. + +Its peculiarity lies in this, that sociological investigations are not +conducted by learned men in their cabinets, observatories and +laboratories, but by two thousand people from the community. A second +peculiarity is this, that the investigations of other sciences are not +conducted on living people, but here living people are the subjects. A +third peculiarity is, that the aim of every other science is simply +knowledge, while here it is the good of the people. One man may +investigate a nebula, but for the investigation of Moscow, two thousand +persons are necessary. The object of the study of nebulae is merely that +we may know about nebulae; the object of the study of inhabitants is that +sociological laws may be deduced, and that, on the foundation of these +laws, a better life for the people may be established. It makes no +difference to the nebula whether it is studied or not, and it has waited +long, and is ready to wait a great while longer; but it is not a matter +of indifference to the inhabitants of Moscow, especially to those +unfortunates who constitute the most interesting subjects of the science +of sociology. + +The census-taker enters a night lodging-house; in the basement he finds a +man dying of hunger, and he politely inquires his profession, his name, +his native place, the character of his occupation, and after a little +hesitation as to whether he is to be entered in the list as alive, he +writes him in and goes his way. + +And thus will the two thousand young men proceed. This is not as it +should be. + +Science does its work, and the community, summoned in the persons of +these two thousand young men to aid science, must do its work. A +statistician drawing his deductions from figures may feel indifferent +towards people, but we census-takers, who see these people and who have +no scientific prepossessions, cannot conduct ourselves towards them in an +inhuman manner. Science fulfils its task, and its work is for its +objects and in the distant future, both useful and necessary to us. For +men of science, we can calmly say, that in 1882 there were so many +beggars, so many prostitutes, and so many uncared-for children. Science +may say this with composure and with pride, because it knows that the +confirmation of this fact conduces to the elucidation of the laws of +sociology, and that the elucidation of the laws of sociology leads to a +better constitution of society. But what if we, the unscientific people, +say: "You are perishing in vice, you are dying of hunger, you are pining +away, and killing each other; so do not grieve about this; when you shall +have all perished, and hundreds of thousands more like you, then, +possibly, science may be able to arrange everything in an excellent +manner." For men of science, the census has its interest; and for us +also, it possesses an interest of a wholly different significance. The +interest and significance of the census for the community lie in this, +that it furnishes it with a mirror into which, willy nilly, the whole +community, and each one of us, gaze. + +The figures and deductions will be the mirror. It is possible to refrain +from reading them, as it is possible to turn away from the looking-glass. +It is possible to glance cursorily at both figures and mirror, and it is +also possible to scrutinize them narrowly. To go about in connection +with the census as thousands of people are now about to do, is to +scrutinize one's self closely in the mirror. + +What does this census, that is about to be made, mean for us people of +Moscow, who are not men of science? It means two things. In the first +place, this, that we may learn with certainty, that among us tens of +thousands who live in ease, there dwell tens of thousands of people who +lack bread, clothing and shelter; in the second place, this, that our +brothers and sons will go and view this and will calmly set down +according to the schedules, how many have died of hunger and cold. + +And both these things are very bad. + +All cry out upon the instability of our social organization, about the +exceptional situation, about revolutionary tendencies. Where lies the +root of all this? To what do the revolutionists point? To poverty, to +inequality in the distribution of wealth. To what do the conservatives +point? To the decline in moral principle. If the opinion of the +revolutionists is correct, what must be done? Poverty and the inequality +of wealth must be lessened. How is this to be effected? The rich must +share with the poor. If the opinion of the conservatives is correct, +that the whole evil arises from the decline in moral principle, what can +be more immoral and vicious than the consciously indifferent survey of +popular sufferings, with the sole object of cataloguing them? What must +be done? To the census we must add the work of affectionate intercourse +of the idle and cultivated rich, with the oppressed and unenlightened +poor. + +Science will do its work, let us perform ours also. Let us do this. In +the first place, let all of us who are occupied with the census, +superintendents and census-takers, make it perfectly clear to ourselves +what we are to investigate and why. It is the people, and the object is +that they may be happy. Whatever may be one's view of life, every one +will agree that there is nothing more important than human life, and that +there is no more weighty task than to remove the obstacles to the +development of this life, and to assist it. + +This idea, that the relations of men to poverty are at the foundation of +all popular suffering, is expressed in the Gospels with striking +harshness, but at the same time, with decision and clearness for all. + +"He who has clothed the naked, fed the hungry, visited the prisoner, that +man has clothed Me, fed Me, visited Me," that is, has done the deed for +that which is the most important thing in the world. + +However a man may look upon things, every one knows that this is more +important than all else on earth. + +And this must not be forgotten, and we must not permit any other +consideration to veil from us the most weighty fact of our existence. Let +us inscribe, and reckon, but let us not forget that if we encounter a man +who is hungry and without clothes, it is of more moment to succor him +than to make all possible investigations, than to discover all possible +sciences. Perish the whole census if we may but feed an old woman. The +census will be longer and more difficult, but we cannot pass by people in +the poorer quarters and merely note them down without taking any heed of +them and without endeavoring, according to the measure of our strength +and moral sensitiveness, to aid them. This in the first place. In the +second, this is what must be done: All of us, who are to take part in the +census, must refrain from irritation because we are annoyed; let us +understand that this census is very useful for us; that if this is not +cure, it is at least an effort to study the disease, for which we should +be thankful; that we must seize this occasion, and, in connection with +it, we must seek to recover our health, in some small degree. Let all of +us, then, who are connected with the census, endeavor to take advantage +of this solitary opportunity in ten years to purify ourselves somewhat; +let us not strive against, but assist the census, and assist it +especially in this sense, that it may not have merely the harsh character +of the investigation of a hopelessly sick person, but may have the +character of healing and restoration to health. For the occasion is +unique: eighty energetic, cultivated men, having under their orders two +thousand young men of the same stamp, are to make their way over the +whole of Moscow, and not leave a single man in Moscow with whom they have +not entered into personal relations. All the wounds of society, the +wounds of poverty, of vice, of ignorance--all will be laid bare. Is +there not something re-assuring in this? The census-takers will go about +Moscow, they will set down in their lists, without distinction, those +insolent with prosperity, the satisfied, the calm, those who are on the +way to ruin, and those who are ruined, and the curtain will fall. The +census-takers, our sons and brothers, these young men will behold all +this. They will say: "Yes, our life is very terrible and incurable," and +with this admission they will live on like the rest of us, awaiting a +remedy for the evil from this or that extraneous force. But those who +are perishing will go on dying, in their ruin, and those on the road to +ruin will continue in their course. No, let us rather grasp the idea +that science has its task, and that we, on the occasion of this census, +have our task, and let us not allow the curtain once lifted to be +dropped, but let us profit by the opportunity in order to remove the +immense evil of the separation existing between us and the poor, and to +establish intercourse and the work of redressing the evil of unhappiness +and ignorance, and our still greater misfortune,--the indifference and +aimlessness of our life. + +I already hear the customary remark: "All this is very fine, these are +sounding phrases; but do you tell us what to do and how to do it?" Before +I say what is to be done, it is indispensable that I should say what is +not to be done. It is indispensable, first of all, in my opinion, in +order that something practical may come of this activity, that no society +should be formed, that there should be no publicity, that there should be +no collection of money by balls, bazaars or theatres; that there should +be no announcement that Prince A. has contributed one thousand rubles, +and the honorable citizen B. three thousand; that there shall be no +collection, no calling to account, no writing up,--most of all, no +writing up, so that there may not be the least shadow of any institution, +either governmental or philanthropic. + +But in my opinion, this is what should be done instantly: Firstly, All +those who agree with me should go to the directors, and ask for their +shares the poorest sections, the poorest dwellings; and in company with +the census-takers, twenty-three, twenty-four or twenty-five in number, +they should go to these quarters, enter into relations with the people +who are in need of assistance, and labor for them. + +Secondly: We should direct the attention of the superintendents and +census-takers to the inhabitants in need of assistance, and work for them +personally, and point them out to those who wish to work over them. But +I am asked: What do you mean by _working over them_? I reply; Doing good +to people. The words "doing good" are usually understood to mean, giving +money. But, in my opinion, doing good and giving money are not only not +the same thing, but two different and generally opposite things. Money, +in itself, is evil. And therefore he who gives money gives evil. This +error of thinking that the giving of money means doing good, arose from +the fact, that generally, when a man does good, he frees himself from +evil, and from money among other evils. And therefore, to give money is +only a sign that a man is beginning to rid himself of evil. To do good, +signifies to do that which is good for man. But, in order to know what +is good for man, it is necessary to be on humane, i.e., on friendly terms +with him. And therefore, in order to do good, it is not money that is +necessary, but, first of all, a capacity for detaching ourselves, for a +time at least, from the conditions of our own life. It is necessary that +we should not be afraid to soil our boots and clothing, that we should +not fear lice and bedbugs, that we should not fear typhus fever, +diphtheria, and small-pox. It is necessary that we should be in a +condition to seat ourselves by the bunk of a tatterdemalion and converse +earnestly with him in such a manner, that he may feel that the man who is +talking with him respects and loves him, and is not putting on airs and +admiring himself. And in order that this may be so, it is necessary that +a man should find the meaning of life outside himself. This is what is +requisite in order that good should be done, and this is what it is +difficult to find. + +When the idea of assisting through the medium of the census occurred to +me, I discussed the matter with divers of the wealthy, and I saw how glad +the rich were of this opportunity of decently getting rid of their money, +that extraneous sin which they cherish in their hearts. "Take three +hundred--five hundred rubles, if you like," they said to me, "but I +cannot go into those dens myself." There was no lack of money. Remember +Zaccheus, the chief of the Publicans in the Gospel. Remember how he, +because he was small of stature, climbed into a tree to see Christ, and +how when Christ announced that he was going to his house, having +understood but one thing, that the Master did not approve of riches, he +leaped headlong from the tree, ran home and arranged his feast. And how, +as soon as Christ entered, Zaccheus instantly declared that he gave the +half of his goods to the poor, and if he had wronged any man, to him he +would restore fourfold. And remember how all of us, when we read the +Gospel, set but little store on this Zaccheus, and involuntarily look +with scorn on this half of his goods, and fourfold restitution. And our +feeling is correct. Zaccheus, according to his lights, performed a great +deed. He had not even begun to do good. He had only begun in some small +measure to purify himself from evil, and so Christ told him. + +He merely said to him: "To-day is salvation come nigh unto this house." + +What if the Moscow Zaccheuses were to do the same that he did? Assuredly, +more than one milliard could be collected. Well, and what of that? +Nothing. There would be still greater sin if we were to think of +distributing this money among the poor. Money is not needed. What is +needed is self-sacrificing action; what is needed are people who would +like to do good, not by giving extraneous sin-money, but by giving their +own labor, themselves, their lives. Where are such people to be found? +Here they are, walking about Moscow. They are the student enumerators. I +have seen how they write out their charts. The student writes in the +night lodging-house, by the bedside of a sick man. "What is your +disease?"--"Small-pox." And the student does not make a wry face, but +proceeds with his writing. And this he does for the sake of some +doubtful science. What would he do if he were doing it for the sake of +his own undoubted good and the good of others? + +When children, in merry mood, feel a desire to laugh, they never think of +devising some reason for laughter, but they laugh without any reason, +because they are gay; and thus these charming youths sacrifice +themselves. They have not, as yet, contrived to devise any means of +sacrificing themselves, but they devote their attention, their labor, +their lives, in order to write out a chart, from which something does or +does not appear. What would it be if this labor were something really +worth their while? There is and there always will be labor of this sort, +which is worthy of the devotion of a whole life, whatever the man's life +may be. This labor is the loving intercourse of man with man, and the +breaking-down of the barriers which men have erected between themselves, +so that the enjoyment of the rich man may not be disturbed by the wild +howls of the men who are reverting to beasts, and by the groans of +helpless hunger, cold and disease. + +This census will place before the eyes of us well-to-do and so-called +cultivated people, all the poverty and oppression which is lurking in +every corner of Moscow. Two thousand of our brothers, who stand on the +highest rung of the ladder, will come face to face with thousands of +people who stand on the lowest round of society. Let us not miss this +opportunity of communion. Let us, through these two thousand men, +preserve this communion, and let us make use of it to free ourselves from +the aimlessness and the deformity of our lives, and to free the condemned +from that indigence and misery which do not allow the sensitive people in +our ranks to enjoy our good fortune in peace. + +This is what I propose: (1) That all our directors and enumerators should +join to their business of the census a task of assistance,--of work in +the interest of the good of these people, who, in our opinion, are in +need of assistance, and with whom we shall come in contact; (2) That all +of us, directors and enumerators, not by appointment of the committee of +the City Council, but by the appointment of our own hearts, shall remain +in our posts,--that is, in our relations to the inhabitants of the town +who are in need of assistance,--and that, at the conclusion of the work +of the census, we shall continue our work of aid. If I have succeeded in +any degree in expressing what I feel, I am sure that the only +impossibility will be getting the directors and enumerators to abandon +this, and that others will present themselves in the places of those who +leave; (3) That we should collect all those inhabitants of Moscow, who +feel themselves fit to work for the needy, into sections, and begin our +activity now, in accordance with the hints of the census-takers and +directors, and afterwards carry it on; (4) That all who, on account of +age, weakness, or other causes, cannot give their personal labor among +the needy, shall intrust the task to their young, strong, and willing +relatives. (Good consists not in the giving of money, it consists in the +loving intercourse of men. This alone is needed.) + +Whatever may be the outcome of this, any thing will be better than the +present state of things. + +Then let the final act of our enumerators and directors be to distribute +a hundred twenty-kopek pieces to those who have no food; and this will be +not a little, not so much because the hungry will have food, but because +the directors and enumerators will conduct themselves in a humane manner +towards a hundred poor people. How are we to compute the possible +results which will accrue to the balance of public morality from the fact +that, instead of the sentiments of irritation, anger, and envy which we +arouse by reckoning the hungry, we shall awaken in a hundred instances a +sentiment of good, which will be communicated to a second and a third, +and an endless wave which will thus be set in motion and flow between +men? And this is a great deal. Let those of the two thousand +enumerators who have never comprehended this before, come to understand +that, when going about among the poor, it is impossible to say, "This is +very interesting;" that a man should not express himself with regard to +another man's wretchedness by interest only; and this will be a good +thing. Then let assistance be rendered to all those unfortunates, of +whom there are not so many as I at first supposed in Moscow, who can +easily be helped by money alone to a great extent. Then let those +laborers who have come to Moscow and have eaten their very clothing from +their backs, and who cannot return to the country, be despatched to their +homes; let the abandoned orphans receive supervision; let feeble old men +and indigent old women, who subsist on the charity of their companions, +be released from their half-famished and dying condition. (And this is +very possible. There are not very many of them.) And this will also be +a very, very great deal accomplished. But why not think and hope that +more and yet more will be done? Why not expect that that real task will +be partially carried out, or at least begun, which is effected, not by +money, but by labor; that weak drunkards who have lost their health, +unlucky thieves, and prostitutes who are still capable of reformation, +should be saved? All evil may not be exterminated, but there will arise +some understanding of it, and the contest with it will not be police +methods, but by inward modes,--by the brotherly intercourse of the men +who perceive the evil, with the men who do not perceive it because they +are a part of it. + +No matter what may be accomplished, it will be a great deal. But why not +hope that every thing will be accomplished? Why not hope that we shall +accomplish thus much, that there shall not exist in Moscow a single +person in want of clothing, a single hungry person, a single human being +sold for money, nor a single individual oppressed by the judgment of man, +who shall not know that there is fraternal aid for him? It is not +surprising that this should not be so, but it is surprising that this +should exist side by side with our superfluous leisure and wealth, and +that we can live on composedly, knowing that these things are so. Let us +forget that in great cities and in London, there is a proletariat, and +let us not say that so it must needs be. It need not be this, and it +should not, for this is contrary to our reason and our heart, and it +cannot be if we are living people. Why not hope that we shall come to +understand that there is not a single duty incumbent upon us, not to +mention personal duty, for ourselves, nor our family, nor social, nor +governmental, nor scientific, which is more weighty than this? Why not +think that we shall at last come to apprehend this? Only because to do +so would be too great a happiness. Why not hope that some the people +will wake up, and will comprehend that every thing else is a delusion, +but that this is the only work in life? And why should not this "some +time" be now, and in Moscow? Why not hope that the same thing may happen +in society and humanity which suddenly takes place in a diseased +organism, when the moment of convalescence suddenly sets in? The +organism is diseased this means, that the cells cease to perform their +mysterious functions; some die, others become infected, others still +remain in perfect condition, and work on by themselves. But all of a +sudden the moment comes when every living cell enters upon an independent +and healthy activity: it crowds out the dead cells, encloses the infected +ones in a living wall, it communicates life to that which was lifeless; +and the body is restored, and lives with new life. + +Why should we not think and expect that the cells of our society will +acquire fresh life and re-invigorate the organism? We know not in what +the power of the cells consists, but we do know that our life is in our +own power. We can show forth the light that is in us, or we may +extinguish it. + +Let one man approach the Lyapinsky house in the dusk, when a thousand +persons, naked and hungry, are waiting in the bitter cold for admission, +and let that one man attempt to help, and his heart will ache till it +bleeds, and he will flee thence with despair and anger against men; but +let a thousand men approach that other thousand with a desire to help, +and the task will prove easy and delightful. Let the mechanicians invent +a machine for lifting the weight that is crushing us--that is a good +thing; but until they shall have invented it, let us bear down upon the +people, like fools, like _muzhiki_, like peasants, like Christians, and +see whether we cannot raise them. + +And now, brothers, all together, and away it goes! + + + + +THOUGHTS EVOKED BY THE CENSUS OF MOSCOW. [1884-1885.] + + + And the people asked him, saying, What shall we do then? + + He answereth and saith unto them, He that hath two coats, let him + impart to him that hath none; and he that hath meat, let him do + likewise--LUKE iii. 10. 11. + + Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust + doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: + + But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor + rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: + + For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. + + The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, + thy whole body shall be full of light. + + But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness. If + therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that + darkness! + + No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and + love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the + other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon. + + Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall + eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put + on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment?--MATT. + vi. 19-25. + + Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall + we drink? Or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? + + (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly + Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. + + But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all + these things shall be added unto you. + + Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take + thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil + thereof.--MATT. vi. 31-34. + + For it is easier for a camel to go through a needle's eye, than for a + rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.--MATT. xix. 24; MARK x. 25; + LUKE xviii. 25. + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +I had lived all my life out of town. When, in 1881, I went to live in +Moscow, the poverty of the town greatly surprised me. I am familiar with +poverty in the country; but city poverty was new and incomprehensible to +me. In Moscow it was impossible to pass along the street without +encountering beggars, and especially beggars who are unlike those in the +country. These beggars do not go about with their pouches in the name of +Christ, as country beggars are accustomed to do, but these beggars are +without the pouch and the name of Christ. The Moscow beggars carry no +pouches, and do not ask for alms. Generally, when they meet or pass you, +they merely try to catch your eye; and, according to your look, they beg +or refrain from it. I know one such beggar who belongs to the gentry. +The old man walks slowly along, bending forward every time he sets his +foot down. When he meets you, he rests on one foot and makes you a kind +of salute. If you stop, he pulls off his hat with its cockade, and bows +and begs: if you do not halt, he pretends that that is merely his way of +walking, and he passes on, bending forward in like manner on the other +foot. He is a real Moscow beggar, a cultivated man. At first I did not +know why the Moscow beggars do not ask alms directly; afterwards I came +to understand why they do not beg, but still I did not understand their +position. + +Once, as I was passing through Afanasievskaya Lane, I saw a policeman +putting a ragged peasant, all swollen with dropsy, into a cab. I +inquired: "What is that for?" + +The policeman answered: "For asking alms." + +"Is that forbidden?" + +"Of course it is forbidden," replied the policeman. + +The sufferer from dropsy was driven off. I took another cab, and +followed him. I wanted to know whether it was true that begging alms was +prohibited and how it was prohibited. I could in no wise understand how +one man could be forbidden to ask alms of any other man; and besides, I +did not believe that it was prohibited, when Moscow is full of beggars. I +went to the station-house whither the beggar had been taken. At a table +in the station-house sat a man with a sword and a pistol. I inquired: + +"For what was this peasant arrested?" + +The man with the sword and pistol gazed sternly at me, and said: + +"What business is it of yours?" + +But feeling conscious that it was necessary to offer me some explanation, +he added: + +"The authorities have ordered that all such persons are to be arrested; +of course it had to be done." + +I went out. The policeman who had brought the beggar was seated on the +window-sill in the ante-chamber, staring gloomily at a note-book. I +asked him: + +"Is it true that the poor are forbidden to ask alms in Christ's name?" + +The policeman came to himself, stared at me, then did not exactly frown, +but apparently fell into a doze again, and said, as he sat on the window- +sill:-- + +"The authorities have so ordered, which shows that it is necessary," and +betook himself once more to his note-book. I went out on the porch, to +the cab. + +"Well, how did it turn out? Have they arrested him?" asked the cabman. +The man was evidently interested in this affair also. + +"Yes," I answered. The cabman shook his head. "Why is it forbidden here +in Moscow to ask alms in Christ's name?" I inquired. + +"Who knows?" said the cabman. + +"How is this?" said I, "he is Christ's poor, and he is taken to the +station-house." + +"A stop has been put to that now, it is not allowed," said the +cab-driver. + +On several occasions afterwards, I saw policemen conducting beggars to +the station house, and then to the Yusupoff house of correction. Once I +encountered on the Myasnitzkaya a company of these beggars, about thirty +in number. In front of them and behind them marched policemen. I +inquired: "What for?"--"For asking alms." + +It turned out that all these beggars, several of whom you meet with in +every street in Moscow, and who stand in files near every church during +services, and especially during funeral services, are forbidden to ask +alms. + +But why are some of them caught and locked up somewhere, while others are +left alone? + +This I could not understand. Either there are among them legal and +illegal beggars, or there are so many of them that it is impossible to +apprehend them all; or do others assemble afresh when some are removed? + +There are many varieties of beggars in Moscow: there are some who live by +this profession; there are also genuine poor people, who have chanced +upon Moscow in some manner or other, and who are really in want. + +Among these poor people, there are many simple, common peasants, and +women in their peasant costume. I often met such people. Some of them +have fallen ill here, and on leaving the hospital they can neither +support themselves here, nor get away from Moscow. Some of them, +moreover, have indulged in dissipation (such was probably the case of the +dropsical man); some have not been ill, but are people who have been +burnt out of their houses, or old people, or women with children; some, +too, were perfectly healthy and able to work. These perfectly healthy +peasants who were engaged in begging, particularly interested me. These +healthy, peasant beggars, who were fit for work, also interested me, +because, from the date of my arrival in Moscow, I had been in the habit +of going to the Sparrow Hills with two peasants, and sawing wood there +for the sake of exercise. These two peasants were just as poor as those +whom I encountered on the streets. One was Piotr, a soldier from Kaluga; +the other Semyon, a peasant from Vladimir. They possessed nothing except +the wages of their body and hands. And with these hands they earned, by +dint of very hard labor, from forty to forty-five kopeks a day, out of +which each of them was laying by savings, the Kaluga man for a fur coat, +the Vladimir man in order to get enough to return to his village. +Therefore, on meeting precisely such men in the streets, I took an +especial interest in them. + +Why did these men toil, while those others begged? + +On encountering a peasant of this stamp, I usually asked him how he had +come to that situation. Once I met a peasant with some gray in his +beard, but healthy. He begs. I ask him who is he, whence comes he? He +says that he came from Kaluga to get work. At first he found employment +chopping up old wood for use in stoves. He and his comrade finished all +the chopping which one householder had; then they sought other work, but +found none; his comrade had parted from him, and for two weeks he himself +had been struggling along; he had spent all his money, he had no saw, and +no axe, and no money to buy anything. I gave him money for a saw, and +told him of a place where he could find work. I had already made +arrangements with Piotr and Semyon, that they should take an assistant, +and they looked up a mate for him. + +"See that you come. There is a great deal of work there." + +"I will come; why should I not come? Do you suppose I like to beg? I +can work." + +The peasant declares that he will come, and it seems to me that he is not +deceiving me, and that he intents to come. + +On the following day I go to my peasants, and inquire whether that man +has arrived. He has not been there; and in this way several men deceived +me. And those also deceived me who said that they only required money +for a ticket in order to return home, and who chanced upon me again in +the street a week later. Many of these I recognized, and they recognized +me, and sometimes, having forgotten me, they repeated the same trick on +me; and others, on catching sight of me, beat a retreat. Thus I +perceived, that in the ranks of this class also deceivers existed. But +these cheats were very pitiable creatures: all of them were but +half-clad, poverty-stricken, gaunt, sickly men; they were the very people +who really freeze to death, or hang themselves, as we learn from the +newspapers. + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +When I mentioned this poverty of the town to inhabitants of the town, +they always said to me: "Oh, all that you have seen is nothing. You +ought to see the Khitroff market-place, and the lodging-houses for the +night there. There you would see a regular 'golden company.'" {21a} One +jester told me that this was no longer a company, but a _golden +regiment_: so greatly had their numbers increased. The jester was right, +but he would have been still more accurate if he had said that these +people now form in Moscow neither a company nor a regiment, but an entire +army, almost fifty thousand in number, I think. [The old inhabitants, +when they spoke to me about the poverty in town, always referred to it +with a certain satisfaction, as though pluming themselves over me, +because they knew it. I remember that when I was in London, the old +inhabitants there also rather boasted when they spoke of the poverty of +London. The case is the same with us.] {21b} + +And I wanted to have a sight of this poverty of which I had been told. +Several times I set out in the direction of the Khitroff market-place, +but on every occasion I began to feel uncomfortable and ashamed. "Why am +I going to gaze on the sufferings of people whom I cannot help?" said one +voice. "No, if you live here, and see all the charms of city life, go +and view this also," said another voice. In December three years ago, +therefore, on a cold and windy day, I betook myself to that centre of +poverty, the Khitroff market-place. This was at four o'clock in the +afternoon of a week-day. As I passed through the Solyanka, I already +began to see more and more people in old garments which had not +originally belonged to them, and in still stranger foot-gear, people with +a peculiar, unhealthy hue of countenance, and especially with a singular +indifference to every thing around them, which was peculiar to them all. +A man in the strangest of all possible attire, which was utterly unlike +any thing else, walked along with perfect unconcern, evidently without a +thought of the appearance which he must present to the eyes of others. +All these people were making their way towards a single point. Without +inquiring the way, with which I was not acquainted, I followed them, and +came out on the Khitroff market-place. On the market-place, women both +old and young, of the same description, in tattered cloaks and jackets of +various shapes, in ragged shoes and overshoes, and equally unconcerned, +notwithstanding the hideousness of their attire, sat, bargained for +something, strolled about, and scolded. There were not many people in +the market itself. Evidently market-hours were over, and the majority of +the people were ascending the rise beyond the market and through the +place, all still proceeding in one direction. I followed them. The +farther I advanced, the greater in numbers were the people of this sort +who flowed together on one road. Passing through the market-place and +proceeding along the street, I overtook two women; one was old, the other +young. Both wore something ragged and gray. As they walked they were +discussing some matter. After every necessary word, they uttered one or +two unnecessary ones, of the most improper character. They were not +intoxicated, but merely troubled about something; and neither the men who +met them, nor those who walked in front of them and behind them, paid any +attention to the language which was so strange to me. In these quarters, +evidently, people always talked so. Ascending the rise, we reached a +large house on a corner. The greater part of the people who were walking +along with me halted at this house. They stood all over the sidewalk of +this house, and sat on the curbstone, and even the snow in the street was +thronged with the same kind of people. On the right side of the entrance +door were the women, on the left the men. I walked past the women, past +the men (there were several hundred of them in all) and halted where the +line came to an end. The house before which these people were waiting +was the Lyapinsky free lodging-house for the night. The throng of people +consisted of night lodgers, who were waiting to be let in. At five +o'clock in the afternoon, the house is opened, and the people permitted +to enter. Hither had come nearly all the people whom I had passed on my +way. + +I halted where the line of men ended. Those nearest me began to stare at +me, and attracted my attention to them by their glances. The fragments +of garments which covered these bodies were of the most varied sorts. But +the expression of all the glances directed towards me by these people was +identical. In all eyes the question was expressed: "Why have you, a man +from another world, halted here beside us? Who are you? Are you a self- +satisfied rich man who wants to enjoy our wretchedness, to get rid of his +tedium, and to torment us still more? or are you that thing which does +not and can not exist,--a man who pities us?" This query was on every +face. You glance about, encounter some one's eye, and turn away. I +wished to talk with some one of them, but for a long time I could not +make up my mind to it. But our glances had drawn us together already +while our tongues remained silent. Greatly as our lives had separated +us, after the interchange of two or three glances we felt that we were +both men, and we ceased to fear each other. The nearest of all to me was +a peasant with a swollen face and a red beard, in a tattered caftan, and +patched overshoes on his bare feet. And the weather was eight degrees +below zero. {24a} For the third or fourth time I encountered his eyes, +and I felt so near to him that I was no longer ashamed to accost him, but +ashamed not to say something to him. I inquired where he came from? he +answered readily, and we began to talk; others approached. He was from +Smolensk, and had come to seek employment that he might earn his bread +and taxes. "There is no work," said he: "the soldiers have taken it all +away. So now I am loafing about; as true as I believe in God, I have had +nothing to eat for two days." He spoke modestly, with an effort at a +smile. A _sbiten_{24b}-seller, an old soldier, stood near by. I called +him up. He poured out his _sbiten_. The peasant took a boiling-hot +glassful in his hands, and as he tried before drinking not to let any of +the heat escape in vain, and warmed his hands over it, he related his +adventures to me. These adventures, or the histories of them, are almost +always identical: the man has been a laborer, then he has changed his +residence, then his purse containing his money and ticket has been stolen +from him in the night lodging-house; now it is impossible to get away +from Moscow. He told me that he kept himself warm by day in the dram- +shops; that he nourished himself on the bits of bread in these drinking +places, when they were given to him; and when he was driven out of them, +he came hither to the Lyapinsky house for a free lodging. He was only +waiting for the police to make their rounds, when, as he had no passport, +he would be taken to jail, and then despatched by stages to his place of +settlement. "They say that the inspection will be made on Friday," said +he, "then they will arrest me. If I can only get along until Friday." +(The jail, and the journey by stages, represent the Promised Land to +him.) + +As he told his story, three men from among the throng corroborated his +statements, and said that they were in the same predicament. A gaunt, +pale, long-nosed youth, with merely a shirt on the upper portion of his +body, and that torn on the shoulders, and a cap without a visor, forced +his way sidelong through the crowd. He shivered violently and +incessantly, but tried to smile disdainfully at the peasants' remarks, +thinking by this means to adopt the proper tone with me, and he stared at +me. I offered him some _sbiten_; he also, on taking the glass, warmed +his hands over it; but no sooner had he begun to speak, than he was +thrust aside by a big, black, hook-nosed individual, in a chintz shirt +and waistcoat, without a hat. The hook-nosed man asked for some _sbiten_ +also. Then came a tall old man, with a mass of beard, clad in a great- +coat girded with a rope, and in bast shoes, who was drunk. Then a small +man with a swollen face and tearful eyes, in a brown nankeen +round-jacket, with his bare knees protruding from the holes in his summer +trousers, and knocking together with cold. He shivered so that he could +not hold his glass, and spilled it over himself. The men began to +reproach him. He only smiled in a woe-begone way, and went on shivering. +Then came a crooked monster in rags, with pattens on his bare feet; then +some sort of an officer; then something in the ecclesiastical line; then +something strange and nose-less,--all hungry and cold, beseeching and +submissive, thronged round me, and pressed close to the _sbiten_. They +drank up all the _sbiten_. One asked for money, and I gave it. Then +another asked, then a third, and the whole crowd besieged me. Confusion +and a press resulted. The porter of the adjoining house shouted to the +crowd to clear the sidewalk in front of his house, and the crowd +submissively obeyed his orders. Some managers stepped out of the throng, +and took me under their protection, and wanted to lead me forth out of +the press; but the crowd, which had at first been scattered over the +sidewalk, now became disorderly, and hustled me. All stared at me and +begged; and each face was more pitiful and suffering and humble than the +last. I distributed all that I had with me. I had not much money, +something like twenty rubles; and in company with the crowd, I entered +the Lyapinsky lodging-house. This house is huge. It consists of four +sections. In the upper stories are the men's quarters; in the lower, the +women's. I first entered the women's place; a vast room all occupied +with bunks, resembling the third-class bunks on the railway. These bunks +were arranged in two rows, one above the other. The women, strange, +tattered creatures, both old and young, wearing nothing over their +dresses, entered and took their places, some below and some above. Some +of the old ones crossed themselves, and uttered a petition for the +founder of this refuge; some laughed and scolded. I went up-stairs. +There the men had installed themselves; among them I espied one of those +to whom I had given money. [On catching sight of him, I all at once felt +terribly abashed, and I made haste to leave the room. And it was with a +sense of absolute crime that I quitted that house and returned home. At +home I entered over the carpeted stairs into the ante-room, whose floor +was covered with cloth; and having removed my fur coat, I sat down to a +dinner of five courses, waited on by two lackeys in dress-coats, white +neckties, and white gloves. + +Thirty years ago I witnessed in Paris a man's head cut off by the +guillotine in the presence of thousands of spectators. I knew that the +man was a horrible criminal. I was acquainted with all the arguments +which people have been devising for so many centuries, in order to +justify this sort of deed. I knew that they had done this expressly, +deliberately. But at the moment when head and body were severed, and +fell into the trough, I groaned, and apprehended, not with my mind, but +with my heart and my whole being, that all the arguments which I had +heard anent the death-penalty were arrant nonsense; that, no matter how +many people might assemble in order to perpetrate a murder, no matter +what they might call themselves, murder is murder, the vilest sin in the +world, and that that crime had been committed before my very eyes. By my +presence and non-interference, I had lent my approval to that crime, and +had taken part in it. So now, at the sight of this hunger, cold, and +degradation of thousands of persons, I understood not with my mind, but +with my heart and my whole being, that the existence of tens of thousands +of such people in Moscow, while I and other thousands dined on fillets +and sturgeon, and covered my horses and my floors with cloth and rugs,--no +matter what the wise ones of this world might say to me about its being a +necessity,--was a crime, not perpetrated a single time, but one which was +incessantly being perpetrated over and over again, and that I, in my +luxury, was not only an accessory, but a direct accomplice in the matter. +The difference for me between these two impressions was this, that I +might have shouted to the assassins who stood around the guillotine, and +perpetrated the murder, that they were committing a crime, and have tried +with all my might to prevent the murder. But while so doing I should +have known that my action would not prevent the murder. But here I might +not only have given _sbiten_ and the money which I had with me, but the +coat from my back, and every thing that was in my house. But this I had +not done; and therefore I felt, I feel, and shall never cease to feel, +myself an accomplice in this constantly repeated crime, so long as I have +superfluous food and any one else has none at all, so long as I have two +garments while any one else has not even one.] {28} + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +That very evening, on my return from the Lyapinsky house, I related my +impressions to a friend. The friend, an inhabitant of the city, began to +tell me, not without satisfaction, that this was the most natural +phenomenon of town life possible, that I only saw something extraordinary +in it because of my provincialism, that it had always been so, and always +would be so, and that such must be and is the inevitable condition of +civilization. In London it is even worse. Of course there is nothing +wrong about it, and it is impossible to be displeased with it. I began +to reply to my friend, but with so much heat and ill-temper, that my wife +ran in from the adjoining room to inquire what had happened. It appears +that, without being conscious of it myself, I had been shouting, with +tears in my voice, and flourishing my hands at my friend. I shouted: +"It's impossible to live thus, impossible to live thus, impossible!" They +made me feel ashamed of my unnecessary warmth; they told me that I could +not talk quietly about any thing, that I got disagreeably excited; and +they proved to me, especially, that the existence of such unfortunates +could not possibly furnish any excuse for imbittering the lives of those +about me. + +I felt that this was perfectly just, and held my peace; but in the depths +of my soul I was conscious that I was in the right, and I could not +regain my composure. + +And the life of the city, which had, even before this, been so strange +and repellent to me, now disgusted me to such a degree, that all the +pleasures of a life of luxury, which had hitherto appeared to me as +pleasures, become tortures to me. And try as I would, to discover in my +own soul any justification whatever for our life, I could not, without +irritation, behold either my own or other people's drawing-rooms, nor our +tables spread in the lordly style, nor our equipages and horses, nor +shops, theatres, and assemblies. I could not behold alongside these the +hungry, cold, and down-trodden inhabitants of the Lyapinsky house. And I +could not rid myself of the thought that these two things were bound up +together, that the one arose from the other. I remember, that, as this +feeling of my own guilt presented itself to me at the first blush, so it +persisted in me, but to this feeling a second was speedily added which +overshadowed it. + +When I mentioned my impressions of the Lyapinsky house to my nearest +friends and acquaintances, they all gave me the same answer as the first +friend at whom I had begun to shout; but, in addition to this, they +expressed their approbation of my kindness of heart and my sensibility, +and gave me to understand that this sight had so especially worked upon +me because I, Lyof Nikolaevitch, was very kind and good. And I willingly +believed this. And before I had time to look about me, instead of the +feeling of self-reproach and regret, which I had at first experienced, +there came a sense of satisfaction with my own kindliness, and a desire +to exhibit it to people. + +"It really must be," I said to myself, "that I am not especially +responsible for this by the luxury of my life, but that it is the +indispensable conditions of existence that are to blame. In truth, a +change in my mode of life cannot rectify the evil which I have seen: by +altering my manner of life, I shall only make myself and those about me +unhappy, and the other miseries will remain the same as ever. And +therefore my problem lies not in a change of my own life, as it had first +seemed to me, but in aiding, so far as in me lies, in the amelioration of +the situation of those unfortunate beings who have called forth my +compassion. The whole point lies here,--that I am a very kind, amiable +man, and that I wish to do good to my neighbors." And I began to think +out a plan of beneficent activity, in which I might exhibit my +benevolence. I must confess, however, that while devising this plan of +beneficent activity, I felt all the time, in the depths of my soul, that +that was not the thing; but, as often happens, activity of judgment and +imagination drowned that voice of conscience within me. At that +juncture, the census came up. This struck me as a means for instituting +that benevolence in which I proposed to exhibit my charitable +disposition. I knew of many charitable institutions and societies which +were in existence in Moscow, but all their activity seemed to me both +wrongly directed and insignificant in comparison with what I intended to +do. And I devised the following scheme: to arouse the sympathy of the +wealthy for the poverty of the city, to collect money, to get people +together who were desirous of assisting in this matter, and to visit all +the refuges of poverty in company with the census, and, in addition to +the work of the census, to enter into communion with the unfortunate, to +learn the particulars of their necessities, and to assist them with +money, with work, by sending them away from Moscow, by placing their +children in school, and the old people in hospitals and asylums. And not +only that, I thought, but these people who undertake this can be formed +into a permanent society, which, by dividing the quarters of Moscow among +its members, will be able to see to it that this poverty and beggary +shall not be bred; they will incessantly annihilate it at its very +inception; then they will fulfil their duty, not so much by healing as by +a course of hygiene for the wretchedness of the city. I fancied that +there would be no more simply needy, not to mention abjectly poor +persons, in the town, and that all of us wealthy individuals would +thereafter be able to sit in our drawing-rooms, and eat our five-course +dinners, and ride in our carriages to theatres and assemblies, and be no +longer annoyed with such sights as I had seen at the Lyapinsky house. + +Having concocted this plan, I wrote an article on the subject; and before +sending it to the printer, I went to some acquaintances, from whom I +hoped for sympathy. I said the same thing to every one whom I met that +day (and I applied chiefly to the rich), and nearly the same that I +afterwards printed in my memoir; proposed to take advantage of the census +to inquire into the wretchedness of Moscow, and to succor it, both by +deeds and money, and to do it in such a manner that there should be no +poor people in Moscow, and so that we rich ones might be able, with a +quiet conscience, to enjoy the blessings of life to which we were +accustomed. All listened to me attentively and seriously, but +nevertheless the same identical thing happened with every one of them +without exception. No sooner did my hearers comprehend the question, +than they seemed to feel awkward and somewhat mortified. They seemed to +be ashamed, and principally on my account, because I was talking +nonsense, and nonsense which it was impossible to openly characterize as +such. Some external cause appeared to compel my hearers to be forbearing +with this nonsense of mine. + +"Ah, yes! of course. That would be very good," they said to me. "It is +a self-understood thing that it is impossible not to sympathize with +this. Yes, your idea is a capital one. I have thought of that myself, +but . . . we are so indifferent, as a rule, that you can hardly count on +much success . . . however, so far as I am concerned, I am, of course, +ready to assist." + +They all said something of this sort to me. They all agreed, but agreed, +so it seemed to me, not in consequence of my convictions, and not in +consequence of their own wish, but as the result of some outward cause, +which did not permit them not to agree. I had already noticed this, and, +since not one of them stated the sum which he was willing to contribute, +I was obliged to fix it myself, and to ask: "So I may count on you for +three hundred, or two hundred, or one hundred, or twenty-five rubles?" +And not one of them gave me any money. I mention this because, when +people give money for that which they themselves desire, they generally +make haste to give it. For a box to see Sarah Bernhardt, they will +instantly place the money in your hand, to clinch the bargain. Here, +however, out of all those who agreed to contribute, and who expressed +their sympathy, not one of them proposed to give me the money on the +spot, but they merely assented in silence to the sum which I suggested. +In the last house which I visited on that day, in the evening, I +accidentally came upon a large company. The mistress of the house had +busied herself with charity for several years. Numerous carriages stood +at the door, several lackeys in rich liveries were sitting in the ante- +chamber. In the vast drawing-room, around two tables and lamps, sat +ladies and young girls, in costly garments, dressing small dolls; and +there were several young men there also, hovering about the ladies. The +dolls prepared by these ladies were to be drawn in a lottery for the +poor. + +The sight of this drawing-room, and of the people assembled in it, struck +me very unpleasantly. Not to mention the fact that the property of the +persons there congregated amounted to many millions, not to mention the +fact that the mere income from the capital here expended on dresses, +laces, bronzes, brooches, carriages, horses, liveries, and lackeys, was a +hundred-fold greater than all that these ladies could earn; not to +mention the outlay, the trip hither of all these ladies and gentlemen; +the gloves, linen, extra time, the candles, the tea, the sugar, and the +cakes had cost the hostess a hundred times more than what they were +engaged in making here. I saw all this, and therefore I could +understand, that precisely here I should find no sympathy with my +mission: but I had come in order to make my proposition, and, difficult +as this was for me, I said what I intended. (I said very nearly the same +thing that is contained in my printed article.) + +Out of all the persons there present, one individual offered me money, +saying that she did not feel equal to going among the poor herself on +account of her sensibility, but that she would give money; how much money +she would give, and when, she did not say. Another individual and a +young man offered their services in going about among the poor, but I did +not avail myself of their offer. The principal person to whom I +appealed, told me that it would be impossible to do much because means +were lacking. Means were lacking because all the rich people in Moscow +were already on the lists, and all of them were asked for all that they +could possibly give; because on all these benefactors rank, medals, and +other dignities were bestowed; because in order to secure financial +success, some new dignities must be secured from the authorities, and +that this was the only practical means, but this was extremely difficult. + +On my return home that night, I lay down to sleep not only with a +presentment that my idea would come to nothing, but with shame and a +consciousness that all day long I had been engaged in a very repulsive +and disgraceful business. But I did not give up this undertaking. In +the first place, the matter had been begun, and false shame would have +prevented my abandoning it; in the second place, not only the success of +this scheme, but the very fact that I was busying myself with it, +afforded me the possibility of continuing to live in the conditions under +which I was then living; failure entailed upon me the necessity of +renouncing my present existence and of seeking new paths of life. And +this I unconsciously dreaded, and I could not believe the inward voice, +and I went on with what I had begun. + +Having sent my article to the printer, I read the proof of it to the City +Council (_Dum_). I read it, stumbling, and blushing even to tears, I +felt so awkward. And I saw that it was equally awkward for all my +hearers. In answer to my question at the conclusion of my reading, as to +whether the superintendents of the census would accept my proposition to +retain their places with the object of becoming mediators between society +and the needy, an awkward silence ensued. Then two orators made +speeches. These speeches in some measure corrected the awkwardness of my +proposal; sympathy for me was expressed, but the impracticability of my +proposition, which all had approved, was demonstrated. Everybody +breathed more freely. But when, still desirous of gaining my object, I +afterwards asked the superintendents separately: Were they willing, while +taking the census, to inquire into the needs of the poor, and to retain +their posts, in order to serve as go-betweens between the poor and the +rich? they all grew uneasy again. They seemed to say to me with their +glances: "Why, we have just condoned your folly out of respect to you, +and here you are beginning it again!" Such was the expression of their +faces, but they assured me in words that they agreed; and two of them +said in the very same words, as though they had entered into a compact +together: "We consider ourselves _morally bound_ to do this." The same +impression was produced by my communication to the student-census-takers, +when I said to them, that while taking our statistics, we should follow +up, in addition to the objects of the census, the object of benevolence. +When we discussed this, I observed that they were ashamed to look the +kind-hearted man, who was talking nonsense, in the eye. My article +produced the same impression on the editor of the newspaper, when I +handed it to him; on my son, on my wife, on the most widely different +persons. All felt awkward, for some reason or other; but all regarded it +as indispensable to applaud the idea itself, and all, immediately after +this expression of approbation, began to express their doubts as to its +success, and began for some reason (and all of them, too, without +exception) to condemn the indifference and coldness of our society and of +every one, apparently, except themselves. + +In the depths of my own soul, I still continued to feel that all this was +not at all what was needed, and that nothing would come of it; but the +article was printed, and I prepared to take part in the census; I had +contrived the matter, and now it was already carrying me a way with it. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +At my request, there had been assigned to me for the census, a portion of +the Khamovnitchesky quarter, at the Smolensk market, along the Prototchny +cross-street, between Beregovoy Passage and Nikolsky Alley. In this +quarter are situated the houses generally called the Rzhanoff Houses, or +the Rzhanoff fortress. These houses once belonged to a merchant named +Rzhanoff, but now belong to the Zimins. I had long before heard of this +place as a haunt of the most terrible poverty and vice, and I had +accordingly requested the directors of the census to assign me to this +quarter. My desire was granted. + +On receiving the instructions of the City Council, I went alone, a few +days previous to the beginning of the census, to reconnoitre my section. +I found the Rzhanoff fortress at once, from the plan with which I had +been furnished. + +I approached from Nikolsky Alley. Nikolsky Alley ends on the left in a +gloomy house, without any gates on that side; I divined from its +appearance that this was the Rzhanoff fortress. + +Passing down Nikolsky Street, I overtook some lads of from ten to +fourteen years of age, clad in little caftans and great-coats, who were +sliding down hill, some on their feet, and some on one skate, along the +icy slope beside this house. The boys were ragged, and, like all city +lads, bold and impudent. I stopped to watch them. A ragged old woman, +with yellow, pendent cheeks, came round the corner. She was going to +town, to the Smolensk market, and she groaned terribly at every step, +like a foundered horse. As she came alongside me, she halted and drew a +hoarse sigh. In any other locality, this old woman would have asked +money of me, but here she merely addressed me. + +"Look there," said she, pointing at the boys who were sliding, "all they +do is to play their pranks! They'll turn out just such Rzhanoff fellows +as their fathers." + +One of the boys clad in a great-coat and a visorless cap, heard her words +and halted: "What are you scolding about?" he shouted to the old woman. +"You're an old Rzhanoff nanny-goat yourself!" + +I asked the boy: + +"And do you live here?" + +"Yes, and so does she. She stole boot-legs," shouted the boy; and +raising his foot in front, he slid away. + +The old woman burst forth into injurious words, interrupted by a cough. +At that moment, an old man, all clad in rags, and as white as snow, came +down the hill in the middle of the street, flourishing his hands [in one +of them he held a bundle with one little _kalatch_ and _baranki_" {39}]. +This old man bore the appearance of a person who had just strengthened +himself with a dram. He had evidently heard the old woman's insulting +words, and he took her part. + +"I'll give it to you, you imps, that I will!" he screamed at the boys, +seeming to direct his course towards them, and taking a circuit round me, +he stepped on to the sidewalk. This old man creates surprise on the +Arbata by his great age, his weakness, and his indigence. Here he was a +cheery laboring-man returning from his daily toil. + +I followed the old man. He turned the corner to the left, into +Prototchny Alley, and passing by the whole length of the house and the +gate, he disappeared through the door of the tavern. + +Two gates and several doors open on Prototchny Alley: those belonging to +a tavern, a dram-shop, and several eating and other shops. This is the +Rzhanoff fortress itself. Every thing here is gray, dirty, and +malodorous--both buildings and locality, and court-yards and people. The +majority of the people whom I met here were ragged and half-clad. Some +were passing through, others were running from door to door. Two were +haggling over some rags. I made the circuit of the entire building from +Prototchny Alley and Beregovoy Passage, and returning I halted at the +gate of one of these houses. I wished to enter, and see what was going +on inside, but I felt that it would be awkward. What should I say when I +was asked what I wanted there? I hesitated, but went in nevertheless. As +soon as I entered the court-yard, I became conscious of a disgusting +odor. The yard was frightfully dirty. I turned a corner, and at the +same instant I heard to my left and overhead, on the wooden balcony, the +tramp of footsteps of people running, at first along the planks of the +balcony, and then on the steps of the staircase. There emerged, first a +gaunt woman, with her sleeves rolled up, in a faded pink gown, and little +boots on her stockingless feet. After her came a tattered man in a red +shirt and very full trousers, like a petticoat, and with overshoes. The +man caught the woman at the bottom of the steps. + +"You shall not escape," he said laughing. + +"See here, you cock-eyed devil," began the woman, evidently flattered by +this pursuit; but catching sight of me, she shrieked viciously, "What do +you want?" + +As I wanted nothing, I became confused and beat a retreat. There was +nothing remarkable about the place; but this incident, after what I had +witnessed on the other side of the yard, the cursing old woman, the jolly +old man, and the lads sliding, suddenly presented the business which I +had concocted from a totally different point of view. I then +comprehended for the first time, that all these unfortunates to whom I +was desirous of playing the part of benefactor, besides the time, when, +suffering from cold and hunger, they awaited admission into the house, +had still other time, which they employed to some other purpose, that +there were four and twenty hours in every day, that there was a whole +life of which I had never thought, up to that moment. Here, for the +first time, I understood, that all those people, in addition to their +desire to shelter themselves from the cold and to obtain a good meal, +must still, in some way, live out those four and twenty hours each day, +which they must pass as well as everybody else. I comprehended that +these people must lose their tempers, and get bored, show courage, and +grieve and be merry. Strange as this may seem, when put into words, I +understood clearly for the first time, that the business which I had +undertaken could not consist alone in feeding and clothing thousands of +people, as one would feed and drive under cover a thousand sheep, but +that it must consist in doing good to them. + +And then I understood that each one of those thousand people was exactly +such a man,--with precisely the same past, with the same passions, +temptations, failings, with the same thoughts, the same +perplexities,--exactly such a man as myself, and then the thing that I +had undertaken suddenly presented itself to me as so difficult that I +felt my powerlessness; but the thing had been begun, and I went on with +it. + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +On the first appointed day, the student enumerators arrived in the +morning, and I, the benefactor, joined them at twelve o'clock. I could +not go earlier, because I had risen at ten o'clock, then I had drunk my +coffee and smoked, while waiting on digestion. At twelve o'clock I +reached the gates of the Rzhanoff house. A policeman pointed out to me +the tavern with a side entrance on Beregovoy Passage, where the census- +takers had ordered every one who asked for them to be directed. I +entered the tavern. It was very dark, ill-smelling, and dirty. Directly +opposite the entrance was the counter, on the left was a room with +tables, covered with soiled cloths, on the right a large apartment with +pillars, and the same sort of little tables at the windows and along the +walls. Here and there at the tables sat men both ragged and decently +clad, like laboring-men or petty tradesmen, and a few women drinking tea. +The tavern was very filthy, but it was instantly apparent that it had a +good trade. + +There was a business-like expression on the face of the clerk behind the +counter, and a clever readiness about the waiters. No sooner had I +entered, than one waiter prepared to remove my coat and bring me whatever +I should order. It was evident that they had been trained to brisk and +accurate service. I inquired for the enumerators. + +"Vanya!" shouted a small man, dressed in German fashion, who was engaged +in placing something in a cupboard behind the counter; this was the +landlord of the tavern, a Kaluga peasant, Ivan Fedotitch, who hired one- +half of the Zimins' houses and sublet them to lodgers. The waiter, a +thin, hooked-nosed young fellow of eighteen, with a yellow complexion, +hastened up. + +"Conduct this gentleman to the census-takers; they went into the main +building over the well." The young fellow threw down his napkin, and +donned a coat over his white jacket and white trousers, and a cap with a +large visor, and, tripping quickly along with his white feet, he led me +through the swinging door in the rear. In the dirty, malodorous kitchen, +in the out-building, we encountered an old woman who was carefully +carrying some very bad-smelling tripe, wrapped in a rag, off somewhere. +From the out-building we descended into a sloping court-yard, all +encumbered with small wooden buildings on lower stories of stone. The +odor in this whole yard was extremely powerful. The centre of this odor +was an out-house, round which people were thronging whenever I passed it. +It merely indicated the spot, but was not altogether used itself. It was +impossible, when passing through the yard, not to take note of this spot; +one always felt oppressed when one entered the penetrating atmosphere +which was emitted by this foul smell. + +The waiter, carefully guarding his white trousers, led me cautiously past +this place of frozen and unfrozen uncleanness to one of the buildings. +The people who were passing through the yard and along the balconies all +stopped to stare at me. It was evident that a respectably dressed man +was a curiosity in these localities. + +The young man asked a woman "whether she had seen the census-takers?" And +three men simultaneously answered his question: some said that they were +over the well, but others said that they had been there, but had come out +and gone to Nikita Ivanovitch. An old man dressed only in his shirt, who +was wandering about the centre of the yard, said that they were in No. +30. The young man decided that this was the most probable report, and +conducted me to No. 30 through the basement entrance, and darkness and +bad smells, different from that which existed outside. We went +down-stairs, and proceeded along the earthen floor of a dark corridor. As +we were passing along the corridor, a door flew open abruptly, and an old +drunken man, in his shirt, probably not of the peasant class, thrust +himself out. A washerwoman, wringing her soapy hands, was pursuing and +hustling the old man with piercing screams. Vanya, my guide, pushed the +old man aside, and reproved him. + +"It's not proper to make such a row," said me, "and you an officer, too!" +and we went on to the door of No. 30. + +Vanya gave it a little pull. The door gave way with a smack, opened, and +we smelled soapy steam, and a sharp odor of spoilt food and tobacco, and +we entered into total darkness. The windows were on the opposite side; +but the corridors ran to right and left between board partitions, and +small doors opened, at various angles, into the rooms made of uneven +whitewashed boards. In a dark room, on the left, a woman could be seen +washing in a tub. An old woman was peeping from one of these small doors +on the right. Through another open door we could see a red-faced, hairy +peasant, in bast shoes, sitting on his wooden bunk; his hands rested on +his knees, and he was swinging his feet, shod in bast shoes, and gazing +gloomily at them. + +At the end of the corridor was a little door leading to the apartment +where the census-takers were. This was the chamber of the mistress of +the whole of No. 30; she rented the entire apartment from Ivan +Feodovitch, and let it out again to lodgers and as night-quarters. In +her tiny room, under the tinsel images, sat the student census-taker with +his charts; and, in his quality of investigator, he had just thoroughly +interrogated a peasant wearing a shirt and a vest. This latter was a +friend of the landlady, and had been answering questions for her. The +landlady herself, an elderly woman, was there also, and two of her +curious tenants. When I entered, the room was already packed full. I +pushed my way to the table. I exchanged greetings with the student, and +he proceeded with his inquiries. And I began to look about me, and to +interrogate the inhabitants of these quarters for my own purpose. + +It turned out, that in this first set of lodgings, I found not a single +person upon whom I could pour out my benevolence. The landlady, in spite +of the fact that the poverty, smallness and dirt of these quarters struck +me after the palatial house in which I dwell, lived in comfort, compared +with many of the poor inhabitants of the city, and in comparison with the +poverty in the country, with which I was thoroughly familiar, she lived +luxuriously. She had a feather-bed, a quilted coverlet, a samovar, a fur +cloak, and a dresser with crockery. The landlady's friend had the same +comfortable appearance. He had a watch and a chain. Her lodgers were +not so well off, but there was not one of them who was in need of +immediate assistance: the woman who was washing linen in a tub, and who +had been abandoned by her husband and had children, an aged widow without +any means of livelihood, as she said, and that peasant in bast shoes, who +told me that he had nothing to eat that day. But on questioning them, it +appeared that none of these people were in special want, and that, in +order to help them, it would be necessary to become well acquainted with +them. + +When I proposed to the woman whose husband had abandoned her, to place +her children in an asylum, she became confused, fell into thought, +thanked me effusively, but evidently did not wish to do so; she would +have preferred pecuniary assistance. The eldest girl helped her in her +washing, and the younger took care of the little boy. The old woman +begged earnestly to be taken to the hospital, but on examining her nook I +found that the old woman was not particularly poor. She had a chest full +of effects, a teapot with a tin spout, two cups, and caramel boxes filled +with tea and sugar. She knitted stockings and gloves, and received +monthly aid from some benevolent lady. And it was evident that what the +peasant needed was not so much food as drink, and that whatever might be +given him would find its way to the dram-shop. In these quarters, +therefore, there were none of the sort of people whom I could render +happy by a present of money. But there were poor people who appeared to +me to be of a doubtful character. I noted down the old woman, the woman +with the children, and the peasant, and decided that they must be seen +to; but later on, as I was occupied with the peculiarly unfortunate whom +I expected to find in this house, I made up my mind that there must be +some order in the aid which we should bestow; first came the most +wretched, and then this kind. But in the next quarters, and in the next +after that, it was the same story, all the people had to be narrowly +investigated before they could be helped. But unfortunates of the sort +whom a gift of money would convert from unfortunate into fortunate +people, there were none. Mortifying as it is to me to avow this, I began +to get disenchanted, because I did not find among these people any thing +of the sort which I had expected. I had expected to find peculiar people +here; but, after making the round of all the apartments, I was convinced +that the inhabitants of these houses were not peculiar people at all, but +precisely such persons as those among whom I lived. As there are among +us, just so among them; there were here those who were more or less good, +more or less stupid, happy and unhappy. The unhappy were exactly such +unhappy beings as exist among us, that is, unhappy people whose +unhappiness lies not in their external conditions, but in themselves, a +sort of unhappiness which it is impossible to right by any sort of bank- +note whatever. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +The inhabitants of these houses constitute the lower class of the city, +which numbers in Moscow, probably, one hundred thousand. There, in that +house, are representatives of every description of this class. There are +petty employers, and master-artisans, bootmakers, brush-makers, cabinet- +makers, turners, shoemakers, tailors, blacksmiths; there are cab-drivers, +young women living alone, and female pedlers, laundresses, old-clothes +dealers, money-lenders, day-laborers, and people without any definite +employment; and also beggars and dissolute women. + +Here were many of the very people whom I had seen at the entrance to the +Lyapinsky house; but here these people were scattered about among the +working-people. And moreover, I had seen these people at their most +unfortunate time, when they had eaten and drunk up every thing, and when, +cold, hungry, and driven forth from the taverns, they were awaiting +admission into the free night lodging-house, and thence into the promised +prison for despatch to their places of residence, like heavenly manna; +but here I beheld them and a majority of workers, and at a time, when by +one means or another, they had procured three or five kopeks for a +lodging for the night, and sometimes a ruble for food and drink. + +And strange as the statement may seem, I here experienced nothing +resembling that sensation which I had felt in the Lyapinsky house; but, +on the contrary, during the first round, both I and the students +experienced an almost agreeable feeling,--yes, but why do I say "almost +agreeable"? This is not true; the feeling called forth by intercourse +with these people, strange as it may sound, was a distinctly agreeable +one. + +Our first impression was, that the greater part of the dwellers here were +working people and very good people at that. + +We found more than half the inhabitants at work: laundresses bending over +their tubs, cabinet-makers at their lathes, cobblers on their benches. +The narrow rooms were full of people, and cheerful and energetic labor +was in progress. There was an odor of toilsome sweat and leather at the +cobbler's, of shavings at the cabinet-maker's; songs were often to be +heard, and glimpses could be had of brawny arms with sleeves roiled high, +quickly and skilfully making their accustomed movements. Everywhere we +were received cheerfully and politely: hardly anywhere did our intrusion +into the every-day life of these people call forth that ambition, and +desire to exhibit their importance and to put us down, which the +appearance of the enumerators in the quarters of well-to-do people +evoked. It not only did not arouse this, but, on the contrary, they +answered all other questions properly, and without attributing any +special significance to them. Our questions merely served them as a +subject of mirth and jesting as to how such and such a one was to be set +down in the list, when he was to be reckoned as two, and when two were to +be reckoned as one, and so forth. + +We found many of them at dinner, or tea; and on every occasion to our +greeting: "bread and salt," or "tea and sugar," they replied: "we beg +that you will partake," and even stepped aside to make room for us. +Instead of the den with a constantly changing population, which we had +expected to find here, it turned out, that there were a great many +apartments in the house where people had been living for a long time. One +cabinet-maker with his men, and a boot-maker with his journeymen, had +lived there for ten years. The boot-maker's quarters were very dirty and +confined, but all the people at work were very cheerful. I tried to +enter into conversation with one of the workmen, being desirous of +inquiring into the wretchedness of his situation and his debt to his +master, but the man did not understand me and spoke of his master and his +life from the best point of view. + +In one apartment lived an old man and his old woman. They peddled +apples. Their little chamber was warm, clean, and full of goods. On the +floor were spread straw mats: they had got them at the apple-warehouse. +They had chests, a cupboard, a samovar, and crockery. In the corner +there were numerous images, and two lamps were burning before them; on +the wall hung fur coats covered with sheets. The old woman, who had star- +shaped wrinkles, and who was polite and talkative, evidently delighted in +her quiet, comfortable, existence. + +Ivan Fedotitch, the landlord of the tavern and of these quarters, left +his establishment and came with us. He jested in a friendly manner with +many of the landlords of apartments, addressing them all by their +Christian names and patronymics, and he gave us brief sketches of them. +All were ordinary people, like everybody else,--Martin Semyonovitches, +Piotr Piotrovitches, Marya Ivanovnas,--people who did not consider +themselves unhappy, but who regarded themselves, and who actually were, +just like the rest of mankind. + +We had been prepared to witness nothing except what was terrible. And, +all of a sudden, there was presented to us, not only nothing that was +terrible, but what was good,--things which involuntarily compelled our +respect. And there were so many of these good people, that the tattered, +corrupt, idle people whom we came across now and then among them, did not +destroy the principal impression. + +This was not so much of a surprise to the students as to me. They simply +went to fulfil a useful task, as they thought, in the interests of +science, and, at the same time, they made their own chance observations; +but I was a benefactor, I went for the purpose of aiding the unfortunate, +the corrupt, vicious people, whom I supposed that I should meet with in +this house. And, behold, instead of unfortunate, corrupt, and vicious +people, I saw that the majority were laborious, industrious, peaceable, +satisfied, contented, cheerful, polite, and very good folk indeed. + +I felt particularly conscious of this when, in these quarters, I +encountered that same crying want which I had undertaken to alleviate. + +When I encountered this want, I always found that it had already been +relieved, that the assistance which I had intended to render had already +been given. This assistance had been rendered before my advent, and +rendered by whom? By the very unfortunate, depraved creatures whom I had +undertaken to reclaim, and rendered in such a manner as I could not +compass. + +In one basement lay a solitary old man, ill with the typhus fever. There +was no one with the old man. A widow and her little daughter, strangers +to him, but his neighbors round the corner, looked after him, gave him +tea and purchased medicine for him out of their own means. In another +lodging lay a woman in puerperal fever. A woman who lived by vice was +rocking the baby, and giving her her bottle; and for two days, she had +been unremitting in her attention. The baby girl, on being left an +orphan, was adopted into the family of a tailor, who had three children +of his own. So there remained those unfortunate idle people, officials, +clerks, lackeys out of place, beggars, drunkards, dissolute women, and +children, who cannot be helped on the spot with money, but whom it is +necessary to know thoroughly, to be planned and arranged for. I had +simply sought unfortunate people, the unfortunates of poverty, those who +could be helped by sharing with them our superfluity, and, as it seemed +to me, through some signal ill-luck, none such were to be found; but I +hit upon unfortunates to whom I should be obliged to devote my time and +care. + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +The unfortunates whom I noted down, divided themselves, according to my +ideas, into three sections, namely: people who had lost their former +advantageous position, and who were awaiting a return to it (there were +people of this sort from both the lower and the higher class); next, +dissolute women, of whom there are a great many in these houses; and a +third division, children. More than all the rest, I found and noted down +people of the first division, who had forfeited their former advantageous +position, and who hoped to regain it. Of such persons, especially from +the governmental and official world, there are a very great number in +these houses. In almost all the lodgings which we entered, with the +landlord, Ivan Fedotitch, he said to us: "Here you need not write down +the lodger's card yourself; there is a man here who can do it, if he only +happens not to be intoxicated to-day." + +And Ivan Fedotitch called by name and patronymic this man, who was always +one of those persons who had fallen from a lofty position. At Ivan +Fedotitch's call, there crawled forth from some dark corner, a former +wealthy member of the noble or official class, generally intoxicated and +always undressed. If he was not drunk, he always readily acceded to the +task proposed to him, nodded significantly, frowned, set down his remarks +in learned phraseology, held the card neatly printed on red paper in his +dirty, trembling hands, and glanced round at his fellow-lodgers with +pride and contempt, as though now triumphing in his education over those +who had so often humiliated him. He evidently enjoyed intercourse with +that world in which cards are printed on red paper, and with that world +of which he had once formed a part. Nearly always, in answer to my +inquiries about his life, the man began, not only willingly, but eagerly, +to relate the story of the misfortunes which he had undergone,--which he +had learned by rote like a prayer,--and particularly of his former +position, in which he ought still to be by right of his education. + +A great many such people were scattered over all the corners of the +Rzhanoff house. But one lodging was densely occupied by them alone--both +men and women. After we had already entered, Ivan Fedotitch said to us: +"Now, here are some of the nobility." The lodging was perfectly crammed; +nearly all of the people, forty in number, were at home. More +demoralized countenances, unhappy, aged, and swollen, young, pallid, and +distracted, were not to be seen in the whole building. I conversed with +several of them. The story was nearly identical in all cases, only in +various stages of development. Every one of them had been rich, or his +father, his brother or his uncle was still wealthy, or his father or he +himself had had a very fine position. Then misfortune had overtaken him, +the blame for which rested either on envious people, or on his own kind- +heartedness, or some special chance, and so he had lost every thing, and +had been forced to condescend to these surroundings to which he was not +accustomed, and which were hateful to him--among lice, rags, among +drunkards and corrupt persons, and to nourish himself on bread and liver, +and to extend his hand in beggary. All the thoughts, desires, memories +of these people were directed exclusively to the past. The present +appeared to them something unreal, repulsive, and not worthy of +attention. Not one of them had any present. They had only memories of +the past, and expectations from the future, which might be realized at +any moment, and for the realization of which only a very little was +required; but this little they did not possess, it was nowhere to be +obtained, and this had been ruining their whole future life in vain, in +the case of one man, for a year, of a second for five years, and of a +third for thirty years. All one needed was merely to dress respectably, +so that he could present himself to a certain personage, who was well- +disposed towards him another only needed to be able to dress, pay off his +debts, and get to Orel; a third required to redeem a small property which +was mortgaged, for the continuation of a law-suit, which must be decided +in his favor, and then all would be well once more. They all declare +that they merely require something external, in order to stand once more +in the position which they regard as natural and happy in their own case. + +Had my mind not been obscured by my pride as a benefactor, a glance at +their faces, both old and young, which were mostly weak and sensitive, +but amiable, would have given me to understand that their misfortunes +were irreparable by any external means, that they could not be happy in +any position whatever, if their views of life were to remain unchanged, +that they were in no wise remarkable people, in remarkably unfortunate +circumstances, but that they were the same people who surround us on all +sides, and just like ourselves. I remember that intercourse with this +sort of unfortunates was peculiarly difficult for me. I now understand +why this was so; in them I beheld myself, as in a mirror. If I had +reflected on my own life and on the life of the people in our circle, I +should have seen that no real difference existed between them. + +If those about me dwell in spacious quarters, and in their own houses on +the Sivtzevy Vrazhok and on the Dimitrovka, and not in the Rzhanoff +house, and still eat and drink dainties, and not liver and herrings with +bread, that does not prevent them from being exactly as unhappy. They +are just as dissatisfied with their own positions, they mourn over the +past, and pine for better things, and the improved position for which +they long is precisely the same as that which the inhabitants of the +Rzhanoff house long for; that is to say, one in which they may do as +little work as possible themselves, and derive the utmost advantage from +the labors of others. The difference is merely one of degrees and time. +If I had reflected at that time, I should have understood this; but I did +not reflect, and I questioned these people, and wrote them down, +supposing, that, having learned all the particulars of their various +conditions and necessities, I could aid them _later on_. I did not +understand that such a man can only be helped by changing his views of +the world. But in order to change the views of another, one must needs +have better views himself, and live in conformity with them; but mine +were precisely the same as theirs, and I lived in accordance with those +views, which must undergo a change, in order that these people might +cease to be unhappy. + +I did not see that these people were unhappy, not because they had not, +so to speak, nourishing food, but because their stomachs had been +spoiled, and because their appetites demanded not nourishing but +irritating viands; and I did not perceive that, in order to help them, it +was not necessary to give them food, but that it was necessary to heal +their disordered stomachs. Although I am anticipating by so doing, I +will mention here, that, out of all these persons whom I noted down, I +really did not help a single one, in spite of the fact that for some of +them, that was done which they desired, and that which, apparently, might +have raised them. Three of their number were particularly well known to +me. All three, after repeated rises and falls, are now in precisely the +same situation in which they were three years ago. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +The second class of unfortunates whom I also expected to assist later on, +were the dissolute women; there were a very great many of them, of all +sorts, in the Rzhanoff house--from those who were young and who resembled +women, to old ones, who were frightful and horrible, and who had lost +every semblance of humanity. The hope of being of assistance to these +women, which I had not at first entertained, occurred to me later. This +was in the middle of our rounds. We had already worked out several +mechanical tricks of procedure. + +When we entered a new establishment, we immediately questioned the +landlady of the apartment; one of us sat down, clearing some sort of a +place for himself where he could write, and another penetrated the +corners, and questioned each man in all the nooks of the apartment +separately, and reported the facts to the one who did the writing. + +On entering a set of rooms in the basement, a student went to hunt up the +landlady, while I began to interrogate all who remained in the place. The +apartment was thus arranged: in the centre was a room six _arshins_ +square, {59} and a small oven. From the oven radiated four partitions, +forming four tiny compartments. In the first, the entrance slip, which +had four bunks, there were two persons--an old man and a woman. +Immediately adjoining this, was a rather long slip of a room; in it was +the landlord, a young fellow, dressed in a sleeveless gray woollen +jacket, a good-looking, very pale citizen. {60} On the left of the first +corner, was a third tiny chamber; there was one person asleep there, +probably a drunken peasant, and a woman in a pink blouse which was loose +in front and close-fitting behind. The fourth chamber was behind the +partition; the entrance to it was from the landlord's compartment. + +The student went into the landlord's room, and I remained in the entrance +compartment, and questioned the old man and woman. The old man had been +a master-printer, but now had no means of livelihood. The woman was the +wife of a cook. I went to the third compartment, and questioned the +woman in the blouse about the sleeping man. She said that he was a +visitor. I asked the woman who she was. She replied that she was a +Moscow peasant. "What is your business?" She burst into a laugh, and +did not answer me. "What do you live on?" I repeated, thinking that she +had not understood my question. "I sit in the taverns," she said. I did +not comprehend, and again I inquired: "What is your means of livelihood?" +She made no reply and laughed. Women's voices in the fourth compartment +which we had not yet entered, joined in the laugh. The landlord emerged +from his cabin and stepped up to us. He had evidently heard my questions +and the woman's replies. He cast a stern glance at the woman and turned +to me: "She is a prostitute," said he, apparently pleased that he knew +the word in use in the language of the authorities, and that he could +pronounce it correctly. And having said this, with a respectful and +barely perceptible smile of satisfaction addressed to me, he turned to +the woman. And no sooner had he turned to her, than his whole face +altered. He said, in a peculiar, scornful, hasty tone, such as is +employed towards dogs: "What do you jabber in that careless way for? 'I +sit in the taverns.' You do sit in the taverns, and that means, to talk +business, that you are a prostitute," and again he uttered the word. "She +does not know the name for herself." This tone offended me. "It is not +our place to abuse her," said I. "If all of us lived according to the +laws of God, there would be none of these women." + +"That's the very point," said the landlord, with an awkward smile. + +"Therefore, we should not reproach but pity them. Are they to blame?" + +I do not recollect just what I said, but I do remember that I was vexed +by the scornful tone of the landlord of these quarters which were filled +with women, whom he called prostitutes, and that I felt compassion for +this woman, and that I gave expression to both feelings. No sooner had I +spoken thus, than the boards of the bed in the next compartment, whence +the laugh had proceeded, began to creak, and above the partition, which +did not reach to the ceiling, there appeared a woman's curly and +dishevelled head, with small, swollen eyes, and a shining, red face, +followed by a second, and then by a third. They were evidently standing +on their beds, and all three were craning their necks, and holding their +breath with strained attention, and gazing silently at us. + +A troubled pause ensued. The student, who had been smiling up to this +time, became serious; the landlord grew confused and dropped his eyes. +All the women held their breath, stared at me, and waited. I was more +embarrassed than any of them. I had not, in the least, anticipated that +a chance remark would produce such an effect. Like Ezekiel's field of +death, strewn with dead men's bones, there was a quiver at the touch of +the spirit, and the dead bones stirred. I had uttered an unpremeditated +word of love and sympathy, and this word had acted on all as though they +had only been waiting for this very remark, in order that they might +cease to be corpses and might live. They all stared at me, and waited +for what would come next. They waited for me to utter those words, and +to perform those actions by reason of which these bones might draw +together, clothe themselves with flesh, and spring into life. But I felt +that I had no such words, no such actions, by means of which I could +continue what I had begun; I was conscious, in the depths of my soul, +that I had lied [that I was just like them], {62} and there was nothing +further for me to say; and I began to inscribe on the cards the names and +callings of all the persons in this set of apartments. + +This incident led me into a fresh dilemma, to the thought of how these +unfortunates also might be helped. In my self-delusion, I fancied that +this would be very easy. I said to myself: "Here, we will make a note of +all these women also, and _later on_ when we [I did not specify to myself +who "we" were] write every thing out, we will attend to these persons +too." I imagined that we, the very ones who have brought and have been +bringing these women to this condition for several generations, would +take thought some fine day and reform all this. But, in the mean time, +if I had only recalled my conversation with the disreputable woman who +had been rocking the baby of the fever-stricken patient, I might have +comprehended the full extent of the folly of such a supposition. + +When we saw this woman with the baby, we thought that it was her child. +To the question, "Who was she?" she had replied in a straightforward way +that she was unmarried. She did not say--a prostitute. Only the master +of the apartment made use of that frightful word. The supposition that +she had a child suggested to me the idea of removing her from her +position. I inquired: + +"Is this your child?" + +"No, it belongs to that woman yonder." + +"Why are you taking care of it?" + +"Because she asked me; she is dying." + +Although my supposition proved to be erroneous, I continued my +conversation with her in the same spirit. I began to question her as to +who she was, and how she had come to such a state. She related her +history very readily and simply. She was a Moscow _myeshchanka_, the +daughter of a factory hand. She had been left an orphan, and had been +adopted by an aunt. From her aunt's she had begun to frequent the +taverns. The aunt was now dead. When I asked her whether she did not +wish to alter her mode of life, my question, evidently, did not even +arouse her interest. How can one take an interest in the proposition of +a man, in regard to something absolutely impossible? She laughed, and +said: "And who would take me in with my yellow ticket?" + +"Well, but if a place could be found somewhere as cook?" said I. + +This thought occurred to me because she was a stout, ruddy woman, with a +kindly, round, and rather stupid face. Cooks are often like that. My +words evidently did not please her. She repeated: + +"A cook--but I don't know how to make bread," said she, and she laughed. +She said that she did not know how; but I saw from the expression of her +countenance that she did not wish to become a cook, that she regarded the +position and calling of a cook as low. + +This woman, who in the simplest possible manner was sacrificing every +thing that she had for the sick woman, like the widow in the Gospels, at +the same time, like many of her companions, regarded the position of a +person who works as low and deserving of scorn. She had been brought up +to live not by work, but by this life which was considered the natural +one for her by those about her. In that lay her misfortune. And she +fell in with this misfortune and clung to her position. This led her to +frequent the taverns. Which of us--man or woman--will correct her false +view of life? Where among us are the people to be found who are +convinced that every laborious life is more worthy of respect than an +idle life,--who are convinced of this, and who live in conformity with +this belief, and who in conformity with this conviction value and respect +people? If I had thought of this, I might have understood that neither +I, nor any other person among my acquaintances, could heal this +complaint. + +I might have understood that these amazed and affected heads thrust over +the partition indicated only surprise at the sympathy expressed for them, +but not in the least a hope of reclamation from their dissolute life. +They do not perceive the immorality of their life. They see that they +are despised and cursed, but for what they are thus despised they cannot +comprehend. Their life, from childhood, has been spent among just such +women, who, as they very well know, always have existed, and are +indispensable to society, and so indispensable that there are +governmental officials to attend to their legal existence. Moreover, +they know that they have power over men, and can bring them into +subjection, and rule them often more than other women. They see that +their position in society is recognized by women and men and the +authorities, in spite of their continual curses, and therefore, they +cannot understand why they should reform. + +In the course of one of the tours, one of the students told me that in a +certain lodging, there was a woman who was bargaining for her thirteen- +year-old daughter. Being desirous of rescuing this girl, I made a trip +to that lodging expressly. Mother and daughter were living in the +greatest poverty. The mother, a small, dark-complexioned, dissolute +woman of forty, was not only homely, but repulsively homely. The +daughter was equally disagreeable. To all my pointed questions about +their life, the mother responded curtly, suspiciously, and in a hostile +way, evidently feeling that I was an enemy, with evil intentions; the +daughter made no reply, did not look at her mother, and evidently trusted +the latter fully. They inspired me with no sincere pity, but rather with +disgust. But I made up my mind that the daughter must be rescued, and +that I would interest ladies who pitied the sad condition of these women, +and send them hither. But if I had reflected on the mother's long life +in the past, of how she had given birth to, nursed and reared this +daughter in her situation, assuredly without the slightest assistance +from outsiders, and with heavy sacrifices--if I had reflected on the view +of life which this woman had formed, I should have understood that there +was, decidedly, nothing bad or immoral in the mother's act: she had done +and was doing for her daughter all that she could, that is to say, what +she considered the best for herself. This daughter could be forcibly +removed from her mother; but it would be impossible to convince the +mother that she was doing wrong, in selling her daughter. If any one was +to be saved, then it must be this woman--the mother ought to have been +saved; [and that long before, from that view of life which is approved by +every one, according to which a woman may live unmarried, that is, +without bearing children and without work, and simply for the +satisfaction of the passions. If I had thought of this, I should have +understood that the majority of the ladies whom I intended to send +thither for the salvation of that little girl, not only live without +bearing children and without working, and serving only passion, but that +they deliberately rear their daughters for the same life; one mother +takes her daughter to the taverns, another takes hers to balls. But both +mothers hold the same view of the world, namely, that a woman must +satisfy man's passions, and that for this she must be fed, dressed, and +cared for. Then how are our ladies to reform this woman and her +daughter? {66} ] + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +Still more remarkable were my relations to the children. In my _role_ of +benefactor, I turned my attention to the children also, being desirous to +save these innocent beings from perishing in that lair of vice, and +noting them down in order to attend to them _afterwards_. + +Among the children, I was especially struck with a twelve-year-old lad +named Serozha. I was heartily sorry for this bold, intelligent lad, who +had lived with a cobbler, and who had been left without a shelter because +his master had been put in jail, and I wanted to do good to him. + +I will here relate the upshot of my benevolence in his case, because my +experience with this child is best adapted to show my false position in +the _role_ of benefactor. I took the boy home with me and put him in the +kitchen. It was impossible, was it not, to take a child who had lived in +a den of iniquity in among my own children? And I considered myself very +kind and good, because he was a care, not to me, but to the servants in +the kitchen, and because not I but the cook fed him, and because I gave +him some cast-off clothing to wear. The boy staid a week. During that +week I said a few words to him as I passed on two occasions and in the +course of my strolls, I went to a shoemaker of my acquaintance, and +proposed that he should take the lad as an apprentice. A peasant who was +visiting me, invited him to go to the country, into his family, as a +laborer; the boy refused, and at the end of the week he disappeared. I +went to the Rzhanoff house to inquire after him. He had returned there, +but was not at home when I went thither. For two days already, he had +been going to the Pryesnensky ponds, where he had hired himself out at +thirty kopeks a day in some procession of savages in costume, who led +about elephants. Something was being presented to the public there. I +went a second time, but he was so ungrateful that he evidently avoided +me. Had I then reflected on the life of that boy and on my own, I should +have understood that this boy was spoiled because he had discovered the +possibility of a merry life without labor, and that he had grown unused +to work. And I, with the object of benefiting and reclaiming him, had +taken him to my house, where he saw--what? My children,--both older and +younger than himself, and of the same age,--who not only never did any +work for themselves, but who made work for others by every means in their +power, who soiled and spoiled every thing about them, who ate rich, +dainty, and sweet viands, broke china, and flung to the dogs food which +would have been a tidbit to this lad. If I had rescued him from the +_abyss_, and had taken him to that nice place, then he must acquire those +views which prevailed in the life of that nice place; but by these views, +he understood that in that fine place he must so live that he should not +toil, but eat and drink luxuriously, and lead a joyous life. It is true +that he did not know that my children bore heavy burdens in the +acquisition of the declensions of Latin and Greek grammar, and that he +could not have understood the object of these labors. But it is +impossible not to see that if he had understood this, the influence of my +children's example on him would have been even stronger. He would then +have comprehended that my children were being educated in this manner, so +that, while doing no work now, they might be in a position hereafter, +also profiting by their diplomas, to work as little as possible, and to +enjoy the pleasures of life to as great an extent as possible. He did +understand this, and he would not go with the peasant to tend cattle, and +to eat potatoes and _kvas_ with him, but he went to the zoological garden +in the costume of a savage, to lead the elephant at thirty kopeks a day. + +I might have understood how clumsy I was, when I was rearing my children +in the most utter idleness and luxury, to reform other people and their +children, who were perishing from idleness in what I called the den of +the Rzhanoff house, where, nevertheless, three-fourths of the people toil +for themselves and for others. But I understood nothing of this. + +There were a great many children in the Rzhanoff house, who were in the +same pitiable plight; there were the children of dissolute women, there +were orphans, there were children who had been picked up in the streets +by beggars. They were all very wretched. But my experience with Serozha +showed me that I, living the life I did, was not in a position to help +them. + +While Serozha was living with us, I noticed in myself an effort to hide +our life from him, in particular the life of our children. I felt that +all my efforts to direct him towards a good, industrious life, were +counteracted by the examples of our lives and by that of our children. It +is very easy to take a child away from a disreputable woman, or from a +beggar. It is very easy, when one has the money, to wash, clean and +dress him in neat clothing, to support him, and even to teach him various +sciences; but it is not only difficult for us, who do not earn our own +bread, but quite the reverse, to teach him to work for his bread, but it +is impossible, because we, by our example, and even by those material and +valueless improvements of his life, inculcate the contrary. A puppy can +be taken, tended, fed, and taught to fetch and carry, and one may take +pleasure in him: but it is not enough to tend a man, to feed and teach +him Greek; we must teach the man how to live,--that is, to take as little +as possible from others, and to give as much as possible; and we cannot +help teaching him to do the contrary, if we take him into our houses, or +into an institution founded for this purpose. + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +This feeling of compassion for people, and of disgust with myself, which +I had experienced in the Lyapinsky house, I experienced no longer. I was +completely absorbed in the desire to carry out the scheme which I had +concocted,--to do good to those people whom I should meet here. And, +strange to say, it would appear, that, to do good--to give money to the +needy--is a very good deed, and one that should dispose me to love for +the people, but it turned out the reverse: this act produced in me ill- +will and an inclination to condemn people. But during our first evening +tour, a scene occurred exactly like that in the Lyapinsky house, and it +called forth a wholly different sentiment. + +It began by my finding in one set of apartments an unfortunate +individual, of precisely the sort who require immediate aid. I found a +hungry woman who had had nothing to eat for two days. + +It came about thus: in one very large and almost empty night-lodging, I +asked an old woman whether there were many poor people who had nothing to +eat? The old woman reflected, and then told me of two; and then, as +though she had just recollected, "Why, here is one of them," said she, +glancing at one of the occupied bunks. "I think that woman has had no +food." + +"Really? Who is she?" + +"She was a dissolute woman: no one wants any thing to do with her now, so +she has no way of getting any thing. The landlady has had compassion on +her, but now she means to turn her out . . . Agafya, hey there, Agafya!" +cried the woman. + +We approached, and something rose up in the bunk. It was a woman haggard +and dishevelled, whose hair was half gray, and who was as thin as a +skeleton, dressed in a ragged and dirty chemise, and with particularly +brilliant and staring eyes. She looked past us with her staring eyes, +clutched at her jacket with one thin hand, in order to cover her bony +breast which was disclosed by her tattered chemise, and oppressed, she +cried, "What is it? what is it?" I asked her about her means of +livelihood. For a long time she did not understand, and said, "I don't +know myself; they persecute me." I asked her,--it puts me to shame, my +hand refuses to write it,--I asked her whether it was true that she had +nothing to eat? She answered in the same hurried, feverish tone, staring +at me the while,--"No, I had nothing yesterday, and I have had nothing to- +day." + +The sight of this woman touched me, but not at all as had been the case +in the Lyapinsky house; there, my pity for these people made me instantly +feel ashamed of myself: but here, I rejoiced because I had at last found +what I had been seeking,--a hungry person. + +I gave her a ruble, and I recollect being very glad that others saw it. +The old woman, on seeing this, immediately begged money of me also. It +afforded me such pleasure to give, that, without finding out whether it +was necessary to give or not, I gave something to the old woman too. The +old woman accompanied me to the door, and the people standing in the +corridor heard her blessing me. Probably the questions which I had put +with regard to poverty, had aroused expectation, and several persons +followed us. In the corridor also, they began to ask me for money. Among +those who begged were some drunken men, who aroused an unpleasant feeling +in me; but, having once given to the old woman, I had no might to refuse +these people, and I began to give. As long as I continued to give, +people kept coming up; and excitement ran through all the lodgings. +People made them appearance on the stairs and galleries, and followed me. +As I emerged into the court-yard, a little boy ran swiftly down one of +the staircases thrusting the people aside. He did not see me, and +exclaimed hastily: "He gave Agashka a ruble!" When he reached the +ground, the boy joined the crowd which was following me. I went out into +the street: various descriptions of people followed me, and asked for +money. I distributed all my small change, and entered an open shop with +the request that the shopkeeper would change a ten-ruble bill for me. And +then the same thing happened as at the Lyapinsky house. A terrible +confusion ensued. Old women, noblemen, peasants, and children crowded +into the shop with outstretched hands; I gave, and interrogated some of +them as to their lives, and took notes. The shopkeeper, turning up the +furred points of the collar of his coat, sat like a stuffed creature, +glancing at the crowd occasionally, and then fixing his eyes beyond them +again. He evidently, like every one else, felt that this was foolish, +but he could not say so. + +The poverty and beggary in the Lyapinsky house had horrified me, and I +felt myself guilty of it; I felt the desire and the possibility of +improvement. But now, precisely the same scene produced on me an +entirely different effect; I experienced, in the first place, a +malevolent feeling towards many of those who were besieging me; and in +the second place, uneasiness as to what the shopkeepers and porters would +think of me. + +On my return home that day, I was troubled in my soul. I felt that what +I had done was foolish and immoral. But, as is always the result of +inward confusion, I talked a great deal about the plan which I had +undertaken, as though I entertained not the slightest doubt of my +success. + +On the following day, I went to such of the people whom I had inscribed +on my list, as seemed to me the most wretched of all, and those who, as +it seemed to me, would be the easiest to help. As I have already said, I +did not help any of these people. It proved to be more difficult to help +them than I had thought. And either because I did not know how, or +because it was impossible, I merely imitated these people, and did not +help any one. I visited the Rzhanoff house several times before the +final tour, and on every occasion the very same thing occurred: I was +beset by a throng of beggars in whose mass I was completely lost. I felt +the impossibility of doing any thing, because there were too many of +them, and because I felt ill-disposed towards them because there were so +many of them; and in addition to this, each one separately did not +incline me in his favor. I was conscious that every one of them was +telling me an untruth, or less than the whole truth, and that he saw in +me merely a purse from which money might be drawn. And it very +frequently seemed to me, that the very money which they squeezed out of +me, rendered their condition worse instead of improving it. The oftener +I went to that house, the more I entered into intercourse with the people +there, the more apparent became to me the impossibility of doing any +thing; but still I did not give up any scheme until the last night tour. + +The remembrance of that last tour is particularly mortifying to me. On +other occasions I had gone thither alone, but twenty of us went there on +this occasion. At seven o'clock, all who wished to take part in this +final night round, began to assemble at my house. Nearly all of them +were strangers to me,--students, one officer, and two of my society +acquaintances, who, uttering the usual, "_C'est tres interessant_!" had +asked me to include them in the number of the census-takers. + +My worldly acquaintances had dressed up especially for this, in some sort +of hunting-jacket, and tall, travelling boots, in a costume in which they +rode and went hunting, and which, in their opinion, was appropriate for +an excursion to a night-lodging-house. They took with them special note- +books and remarkable pencils. They were in that peculiarly excited state +of mind in which men set off on a hunt, to a duel, or to the wars. The +most apparent thing about them was their folly and the falseness of our +position, but all the rest of us were in the same false position. Before +we set out, we held a consultation, after the fashion of a council of +war, as to how we should begin, how divide our party, and so on. + +This consultation was exactly such as takes place in councils, +assemblages, committees; that is to say, each person spoke, not because +he had any thing to say or to ask, but because each one cudgelled his +brain for something that he could say, so that he might not fall short of +the rest. But, among all these discussions, no one alluded to that +beneficence of which I had so often spoken to them all. Mortifying as +this was to me, I felt that it was indispensable that I should once more +remind them of benevolence, that is, of the point, that we were to +observe and take notes of all those in destitute circumstances whom we +should encounter in the course of our rounds. I had always felt ashamed +to speak of this; but now, in the midst of all our excited preparations +for our expedition, I could hardly utter the words. All listened to me, +as it seemed to me, with sorrow, and, at the same time, all agreed in +words; but it was evident that they all knew that it was folly, and that +nothing would come of it, and all immediately began again to talk about +something else. This went on until the time arrived for us to set out, +and we started. + +We reached the tavern, roused the waiters, and began to sort our papers. +When we were informed that the people had heard about this round, and +were leaving their quarters, we asked the landlord to lock the gates; and +we went ourselves into the yard to reason with the fleeing people, +assuring them that no one would demand their tickets. I remember the +strange and painful impression produced on me by these alarmed +night-lodgers: ragged, half-dressed, they all seemed tall to me by the +light of the lantern and the gloom of the court-yard. Frightened and +terrifying in their alarm, they stood in a group around the foul-smelling +out-house, and listened to our assurances, but they did not believe us, +and were evidently prepared for any thing, like hunted wild beasts, +provided only that they could escape from us. Gentlemen in divers +shapes--as policemen, both city and rural, and as examining judges, and +judges--hunt them all their lives, in town and country, on the highway +and in the streets, and in the taverns, and in night-lodging houses; and +now, all of a sudden, these gentlemen had come and locked the gates, +merely in order to count them: it was as difficult for them to believe +this, as for hares to believe that dogs have come, not to chase but to +count them. But the gates were locked, and the startled lodgers +returned: and we, breaking up into groups, entered also. With me were +the two society men and two students. In front of us, in the dark, went +Vanya, in his coat and white trousers, with a lantern, and we followed. +We went to quarters with which I was familiar. I knew all the +establishments, and some of the people; but the majority of the people +were new, and the spectacle was new, and more dreadful than the one which +I had witnessed in the Lyapinsky house. All the lodgings were full, all +the bunks were occupied, not by one person only, but often by two. The +sight was terrible in that narrow space into which the people were +huddled, and men and women were mixed together. All the women who were +not dead drunk slept with men; and women with two children did the same. +The sight was terrible, on account of the poverty, dirt, rags, and terror +of the people. And it was chiefly dreadful on account of the vast +numbers of people who were in this situation. One lodging, and then a +second like it, and a third, and a tenth, and a twentieth, and still +there was no end to them. And everywhere there was the same foul odor, +the same close atmosphere, the same crowding, the same mingling of the +sexes, the same men and women intoxicated to stupidity, and the same +terror, submission and guilt on all faces; and again I was overwhelmed +with shame and pain, as in the Lyapinsky house, and I understood that +what I had undertaken was abominable and foolish and therefore +impracticable. And I no longer took notes of anybody, and I asked no +questions, knowing that nothing would come of this. + +I was deeply pained. In the Lyapinsky house I had been like a man who +has seen a fearful wound, by chance, on the body of another man. He is +sorry for the other man, he is ashamed that he has not pitied the man +before, and he can still rise to the succor of the sufferer. But now I +was like a physician, who has come with his medicine to the sick man, has +uncovered his sore, and examined it, and who must confess to himself that +every thing that he has done has been in vain, and that his remedy is +good for nothing. + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +This visit dealt the final blow to my self-delusion. It now appeared +indisputable to me, that what I had undertaken was not only foolish but +loathsome. + +But, in spite of the fact that I was aware of this, it seemed to me that +I could not abandon the whole thing on the spot. It seemed to me that I +was bound to carry out this enterprise, in the first place, because by my +article, by my visits and promises, I had aroused the expectations of the +poor; in the second, because by my article also, and by my talk, I had +aroused the sympathies of benevolent persons, many of whom had promised +me their co-operation both in personal labor and in money. And I +expected that both sets of people would turn to me for an answer to this. + +What happened to me, so far as the appeal of the needy to me is +concerned, was as follows: By letter and personal application I received +more than a hundred; these applications were all from the wealthy-poor, +if I may so express myself. I went to see some of them, and some of them +received no answer. Nowhere did I succeed in doing any thing. All +applications to me were from persons who had once occupied privileged +positions (I thus designate those in which people receive more from +others than they give), who had lost them, and who wished to occupy them +again. To one, two hundred rubles were indispensable, in order that he +might prop up a failing business, and complete the education of his +children which had been begun; another wanted a photographic outfit; a +third wanted his debts paid, and respectable clothing purchased for him; +a fourth needed a piano, in order to perfect himself and support his +family by giving lessons. But the majority did not stipulate for any +given sum of money, and simply asked for assistance; and when I came to +examine into what was required, it turned out that their demands grew in +proportion to the aid, and that there was not and could not be any way of +satisfying them. I repeat, that it is very possible that this arose from +the fact that I did not understand how; but I did not help any one, +although I sometimes endeavored to do so. + +A very strange and unexpected thing happened to me as regards the +co-operation of the benevolently disposed. Out of all the persons who +had promised me financial aid, and who had even stated the number of +rubles, not a single one handed to me for distribution among the poor one +solitary ruble. But according to the pledges which had been given me, I +could reckon on about three thousand rubles; and out of all these people, +not one remembered our former discussions, or gave me a single kopek. +Only the students gave the money which had been assigned to them for +their work on the census, twelve rubles, I think. So my whole scheme, +which was to have been expressed by tens of thousands of rubles +contributed by the wealthy, for hundreds and thousands of poor people who +were to be rescued from poverty and vice, dwindled down to this, that I +gave away, haphazard, a few scores of rubles to those people who asked me +for them, and that there remained in my hands twelve rubies contributed +by the students, and twenty-five sent to me by the City Council for my +labor as a superintendent, and I absolutely did not know to whom to give +them. + +The whole matter came to an end. And then, before my departure for the +country, on the Sunday before carnival, I went to the Rzhanoff house in +the morning, in order to get rid of those thirty-seven rubles before I +should leave Moscow, and to distribute them to the poor. I made the +round of the quarters with which I was familiar, and in them found only +one sick man, to whom I gave five rubles. There was no one else there to +give any to. Of course many began to beg of me. But as I had not known +them at first, so I did not know them now, and I made up my mind to take +counsel with Ivan Fedotitch, the landlord of the tavern, as to the +persons upon whom it would be proper to bestow the remaining thirty-two +rubies. + +It was the first day of the carnival. Everybody was dressed up, and +everybody was full-fed, and many were already intoxicated. In the court- +yard, close to the house, stood an old man, a rag-picker, in a tattered +smock and bast shoes, sorting over the booty in his basket, tossing out +leather, iron, and other stuff in piles, and breaking into a merry song, +with a fine, powerful voice. I entered into conversation with him. He +was seventy years old, he was alone in the world, and supported himself +by his calling of a rag-picker; and not only did he utter no complaints, +but he said that he had plenty to eat and drink. I inquired of him as to +especially needy persons. He flew into a rage, and said plainly that +there were no needy people, except drunkards and lazy men; but, on +learning my object, he asked me for a five-kopek piece to buy a drink, +and ran off to the tavern. I too entered the tavern to see Ivan +Fedotitch, and commission him to distribute the money which I had left. +The tavern was full; gayly-dressed, intoxicated girls were flitting in +and out; all the tables were occupied; there were already a great many +drunken people, and in the small room the harmonium was being played, and +two persons were dancing. Out of respect to me, Ivan Fedotitch ordered +that the dance should be stopped, and seated himself with me at a vacant +table. I said to him, that, as he knew his tenants, would not he point +out to me the most needy among them; that I had been entrusted with the +distribution of a little money, and, therefore, would he indicate the +proper persons? Good-natured Ivan Fedotitch (he died a year later), +although he was pressed with business, broke away from it for a time, in +order to serve me. He meditated, and was evidently undecided. An +elderly waiter heard us, and joined the conference. + +They began to discuss the claims of persons, some of whom I knew, but +still they could not come to any agreement. "The Paramonovna," suggested +the waiter. "Yes, that would do. Sometimes she has nothing to eat. Yes, +but then she tipples."--"Well, what of that? That makes no +difference."--"Well, Sidoron Ivanovitch has children. He would do." But +Ivan Fedotitch had his doubts about Sidoron Ivanovitch also. "Akulina +shall have some. There, now, give something to the blind." To this I +responded. I saw him at once. He was a blind old man of eighty years, +without kith or kin. It seemed as though no condition could be more +painful, and I went immediately to see him. He was lying on a feather- +bed, on a high bedstead, drunk; and, as he did not see me, he was +scolding his comparatively youthful female companion in a frightful bass +voice, and in the very worst kind of language. They also summoned an +armless boy and his mother. I saw that Ivan Fedotitch was in great +straits, on account of his conscientiousness, for me knew that whatever +was given would immediately pass to his tavern. But I had to get rid of +my thirty-two rubles, so I insisted; and in one way and another, and half +wrongfully to boot, we assigned and distributed them. Those who received +them were mostly well dressed, and we had not far to go to find them, as +they were there in the tavern. The armless boy appeared in wrinkled +boots, and a red shirt and vest. With this my charitable career came to +an end, and I went off to the country; irritated at others, as is always +the case, because I myself had done a stupid and a bad thing. My +benevolence had ended in nothing, and it ceased altogether, but the +current of thoughts and feelings which it had called up with me not only +did not come to an end, but the inward work went on with redoubled force. + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +What was its nature? + +I had lived in the country, and there I was connected with the rustic +poor. Not out of humility, which is worse than pride, but for the sake +of telling the truth, which is indispensable for the understanding of the +whole course of my thoughts and sentiments, I will say that in the +country I did very little for the poor, but the demands which were made +upon me were so modest that even this little was of use to the people, +and formed around me an atmosphere of affection and union with the +people, in which it was possible to soothe the gnawing sensation of +remorse at the independence of my life. On going to the city, I had +hoped to be able to live in the same manner. But here I encountered want +of an entirely different sort. City want was both less real, and more +exacting and cruel, than country poverty. But the principal point was, +that there was so much of it in one spot, that it produced on me a +frightful impression. The impression which I experienced in the +Lyapinsky house had, at the very first, made me conscious of the +deformity of my own life. This feeling was genuine and very powerful. +But, notwithstanding its genuineness and power, I was, at that time, so +weak that I feared the alteration in my life to which this feeling +commended me, and I resorted to a compromise. I believed what everybody +told me, and everybody has said, ever since the world was made,--that +there is nothing evil in wealth and luxury, that they are given by God, +that one may continue to live as a rich man, and yet help the needy. I +believed this, and I tried to do it. I wrote an essay, in which I +summoned all rich people to my assistance. The rich people all +acknowledged themselves morally bound to agree with me, but evidently +they either did not wish to do any thing, or they could not do any thing +or give any thing to the poor. I began to visit the poor, and I beheld +what I had not in the least expected. On the one hand, I beheld in those +dens, as I called them, people whom it was not conceivable that I should +help, because they were working people, accustomed to labor and +privation, and therefore standing much higher and having a much firmer +foothold in life than myself; on the other hand, I saw unfortunate people +whom I could not aid because they were exactly like myself. The majority +of the unfortunates whom I saw were unhappy only because they had lost +the capacity, desire, and habit of earning their own bread; that is to +say, their unhappiness consisted in the fact that they were precisely +such persons as myself. + +I found no unfortunates who were sick, hungry, or cold, to whom I could +render immediate assistance, with the solitary exception of hungry +Agafya. And I became convinced, that, on account of my remoteness from +the lives of those people whom I desired to help, it would be almost +impossible to find any such unfortunates, because all actual wants had +already been supplied by the very people among whom these unfortunates +live; and, most of all, I was convinced that money cannot effect any +change in the life led by these unhappy people. + +I was convinced of all this, but out of false shame at abandoning what I +had once undertaken, because of my self-delusion as a benefactor, I went +on with this matter for a tolerably long time,--and would have gone on +with it until it came to nothing of itself,--so that it was with the +greatest difficulty that, with the help of Ivan Fedotitch, I got rid, +after a fashion, as well as I could, in the tavern of the Rzhanoff house, +of the thirty-seven rubles which I did not regard as belonging to me. + +Of course I might have gone on with this business, and have made out of +it a semblance of benevolence; by urging the people who had promised me +money, I might have collected more, I might have distributed this money, +and consoled myself with my charity; but I perceived, on the one hand, +that we rich people neither wish nor are able to share a portion of our a +superfluity with the poor (we have so many wants of our own), and that +money should not be given to any one, if the object really be to do good +and not to give money itself at haphazard, as I had done in the Rzhanoff +tavern. And I gave up the whole thing, and went off to the country with +despair in my heart. + +In the country I tried to write an essay about all this that I had +experienced, and to tell why my undertaking had not succeeded. I wanted +to justify myself against the reproaches which had been made to me on the +score of my article on the census; I wanted to convict society of its in +difference, and to state the causes in which this city poverty has its +birth, and the necessity of combating it, and the means of doing so which +I saw. + +I began this essay at once, and it seemed to me that in it I was saying a +very great deal that was important. But toil as I would over it, and in +spite of the abundance of materials, in spite of the superfluity of them +even, I could not get though that essay; and so I did not finish it until +the present year, because of the irritation under the influence of which +I wrote, because I had not gone through all that was requisite in order +to bear myself properly in relation to this essay, because I did not +simply and clearly acknowledge the cause of all this,--a very simple +cause, which had its root in myself. + +In the domain of morals, one very remarkable and too little noted +phenomenon presents itself. + +If I tell a man who knows nothing about it, what I know about geology, +astronomy, history, physics, and mathematics, that man receives entirely +new information, and he never says to me: "Well, what is there new in +that? Everybody knows that, and I have known it this long while." But +tell that same man the most lofty truth, expressed in the clearest, most +concise manner, as it has never before been expressed, and every ordinary +individual, especially one who takes no particular interest in moral +questions, or, even more, one to whom the moral truth stated by you is +displeasing, will infallibly say to you: "Well, who does not know that? +That was known and said long ago." It really seems to him that this has +been said long ago and in just this way. Only those to whom moral truths +are dear and important know how important and precious they are, and with +what prolonged labor the elucidation, the simplification, of moral +truths, their transit from the state of a misty, indefinitely recognized +supposition, and desire, from indistinct, incoherent expressions, to a +firm and definite expression, unavoidably demanding corresponding +concessions, are attained. + +We have all become accustomed to think that moral instruction is a most +absurd and tiresome thing, in which there can be nothing new or +interesting; and yet all human life, together with all the varied and +complicated activities, apparently independent, of morality, both +governmental and scientific, and artistic and commercial, has no other +aim than the greater and greater elucidation, confirmation, +simplification, and accessibility of moral truth. + +I remember that I was once walking along the street in Moscow, and in +front of me I saw a man come out and gaze attentively at the stones of +the sidewalk, after which he selected one stone, seated himself on it, +and began to plane (as it seemed to me) or to rub it with the greatest +diligence and force. "What is he doing to the sidewalk?" I said to +myself. On going close to him, I saw what the man was doing. He was a +young fellow from a meat-shop; he was whetting his knife on the stone of +the pavement. He was not thinking at all of the stones when he +scrutinized them, still less was he thinking of them when he was +accomplishing his task: he was whetting his knife. He was obliged to +whet his knife so that he could cut the meat; but to me it seemed as +though he were doing something to the stones of the sidewalk. Just so it +appears as though humanity were occupied with commerce, conventions, +wars, sciences, arts; but only one business is of importance to it, and +with only one business is it occupied: it is elucidating to itself those +moral laws by which it lives. The moral laws are already in existence; +humanity is only elucidating them, and this elucidation seems unimportant +and imperceptible for any one who has no need of moral laws, who does not +wish to live by them. But this elucidation of the moral law is not only +weighty, but the only real business of all humanity. This elucidation is +imperceptible just as the difference between the dull and the sharp knife +is imperceptible. The knife is a knife all the same, and for a person +who is not obliged to cut any thing with this knife, the difference +between the dull and the sharp one is imperceptible. For the man who has +come to an understanding that his whole life depends on the greater or +less degree of sharpness in the knife,--for such a man, every whetting of +it is weighty, and that man knows that the knife is a knife only when it +is sharp, when it cuts that which needs cutting. + +This is what happened to me, when I began to write my essay. It seemed +to me that I knew all about it, that I understood every thing connected +with those questions which had produced on me the impressions of the +Lyapinsky house, and the census; but when I attempted to take account of +them and to demonstrate them, it turned out that the knife would not cut, +and that it must be whetted. And it is only now, after the lapse of +three years, that I have felt that my knife is sufficiently sharp, so +that I can cut what I choose. I have learned very little that is new. My +thoughts are all exactly the same, but they were duller then, and they +all scattered and would not unite on any thing; there was no edge to +them; they would not concentrate on one point, on the simplest and +clearest decision, as they have now concentrated themselves. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +I remember that during the entire period of my unsuccessful efforts at +helping the inhabitants of the city, I presented to myself the aspect of +a man who should attempt to drag another man out of a swamp while he +himself was standing on the same unstable ground. Every attempt of mine +had made me conscious of the untrustworthy character of the soil on which +I stood. I felt that I was in the swamp myself, but this consciousness +did not cause me to look more narrowly at my own feet, in order to learn +upon what I was standing; I kept on seeking some external means, outside +myself, of helping the existing evil. + +I then felt that my life was bad, and that it was impossible to live in +that manner. But from the fact that my life was bad, and that it was +impossible to live in that manner, I did not draw the very simple and +clear deduction that it was necessary to amend my life and to live +better, but I knew the terrible deduction that in order to live well +myself, I must needs reform the lives of others; and so I began to reform +the lives of others. I lived in the city, and I wished to reform the +lives of those who lived in the city; but I soon became convinced that +this I could not by any possibility accomplish, and I began to meditate +on the inherent characteristics of city life and city poverty. + +"What are city life and city poverty? Why, when I am living in the city, +cannot I help the city poor?" + +I asked myself. I answered myself that I could not do any thing for +them, in the first place, because there were too many of them here in one +spot; in the second place, because all the poor people here were entirely +different from the country poor. Why were there so many of them here? +and in what did their peculiarity, as opposed to the country poor, +consist? There was one and the same answer to both questions. There +were a great many of them here, because here all those people who have no +means of subsistence in the country collect around the rich; and their +peculiarity lies in this, that they are not people who have come from the +country to support themselves in the city (if there are any city paupers, +those who have been born here, and whose fathers and grandfathers were +born here, then those fathers and grandfathers came hither for the +purpose of earning their livelihood). What is the meaning of this: _to +earn one's livelihood in the city_? In the words "to earn one's +livelihood in the city," there is something strange, resembling a jest, +when you reflect on their significance. How is it that people go from +the country,--that is to say, from the places where there are forests, +meadows, grain, and cattle, where all the wealth of the earth lies,--to +earn their livelihood in a place where there are neither trees, nor +grass, nor even land, and only stones and dust? What is the significance +of the words "to earn a livelihood in the city," which are in such +constant use, both by those who earn the livelihood, and by those who +furnish it, as though it were something perfectly clear and +comprehensible? + +I recall the hundreds and thousands of city people, both those who live +well and the needy, with whom I have conversed on the reason why they +came hither: and all without exception said, that they had come from the +country to earn their living; that in Moscow, where people neither sow +nor reap,--that in Moscow there is plenty of every thing, and that, +therefore, it is only in Moscow that they can earn the money which they +require in the country for bread and a cottage and a horse, and articles +of prime necessity. But assuredly, in the country lies the source of all +riches; there only is real wealth,--bread, and forests, and horses, and +every thing. And why, above all, take away from the country that which +dwellers in the country need,--flour, oats, horses, and cattle? + +Hundreds of times did I discuss this matter with peasants living in town; +and from my discussions with them, and from my observations, it has been +made apparent to me, that the congregation of country people in the city +is partly indispensable because they cannot otherwise support themselves, +partly voluntary, and that they are attracted to the city by the +temptations of the city. + +It is true, that the position of the peasant is such that, for the +satisfaction of his demands made on him in the country, he cannot +extricate himself otherwise than by selling the grain and the cattle +which he knows will be indispensable to him; and he is forced, whether he +will or no, to go to the city in order there to win back his bread. But +it is also true, that the luxury of city life, and the comparative ease +with which money is there to be earned, attract him thither; and under +the pretext of gaining his living in the town, he betakes himself thither +in order that he may have lighter work, better food, and drink tea three +times a day, and dress well, and even lead a drunken and dissolute life. +The cause of both is identical,--the transfer of the riches of the +producers into the hands of non-producers, and the accumulation of wealth +in the cities. And, in point of fact, when autumn has come, all wealth +is collected in the country. And instantly there arise demands for +taxes, recruits, the temptations of vodka, weddings, festivals; petty +pedlers make their rounds through the villages, and all sorts of other +temptations crop up; and by this road, or, if not, by some other, wealth +of the most varied description--vegetables, calves, cows, horses, pigs, +chickens, eggs, butter, hemp, flax, rye, oats, buckwheat, pease, +hempseed, and flaxseed--all passes into the hands of strangers, is +carried off to the towns, and thence to the capitals. The countryman is +obliged to surrender all this to satisfy the demands that are made upon +him, and temptations; and, having parted with his wealth, he is left with +an insufficiency, and he is forced to go whither his wealth has been +carried and there he tries, in part, to obtain the money which he +requires for his first needs in the country, and in part, being himself +led away by the blandishments of the city, he enjoys, in company with +others, the wealth that has there accumulated. Everywhere, throughout +the whole of Russia,--yes, and not in Russia alone, I think, but +throughout the whole world,--the same thing goes on. The wealth of the +rustic producers passes into the hands of traders, landed proprietors, +officials, and factory-owners; and the people who receive this wealth +wish to enjoy it. But it is only in the city that they can derive full +enjoyment from this wealth. In the country, in the first place, it is +difficult to satisfy all the requirements of rich people, on account of +the sparseness of the population; banks, shops, hotels, every sort of +artisan, and all sorts of social diversions, do not exist there. In the +second place, one of the chief pleasures procured by wealth--vanity, the +desire to astonish and outshine other people--is difficult to satisfy in +the country; and this, again, on account of the lack of inhabitants. In +the country, there is no one to appreciate elegance, no one to be +astonished. Whatever adornments in the way of pictures and bronzes the +dweller in the country may procure for his house, whatever equipages and +toilets he may provide, there is no one to see them and envy them, and +the peasants cannot judge of them. [And, in the third place, luxury is +even disagreeable and dangerous in the country for the man possessed of a +conscience and fear. It is an awkward and delicate matter, in the +country, to have baths of milk, or to feed your puppies on it, when +directly beside you there are children who have no milk; it is an awkward +and delicate matter to build pavilions and gardens in the midst of people +who live in cots banked up with dung, which they have no means of +warming. In the country there is no one to keep the stupid peasants in +order, and in their lack of cultivation they might disarrange all this.] +{94} + +And accordingly rich people congregate, and join themselves to other rich +people with similar requirements, in the city, where the gratification of +every luxurious taste is carefully protected by a numerous police force. +Well-rooted inhabitants of the city of this sort, are the governmental +officials; every description of artisan and professional man has sprung +up around them, and with them the wealthy join their forces. All that a +rich man has to do there is to take a fancy to a thing, and he can get +it. It is also more agreeable for a rich man to live there, because +there he can gratify his vanity; there is some one with whom he can vie +in luxury; there is some one to astonish, and there is some one to +outshine. But the principal reason why it is more comfortable in the +city for a rich man is that formerly, in the country, his luxury made him +awkward and uneasy; while now, on the contrary, it would be awkward for +him not to live luxuriously, not to live like all his peers around him. +That which seemed dreadful and awkward in the country, here appears to be +just as it should be. [Rich people congregate in the city; and there, +under the protection of the authorities, they calmly demand every thing +that is brought thither from the country. And the countryman is, in some +measure, compelled to go thither, where this uninterrupted festival of +the wealthy which demands all that is taken from him is in progress, in +order to feed upon the crumbs which fall from the tables of the rich; and +partly, also, because, when he beholds the care-free, luxurious life, +approved and protected by everybody, he himself becomes desirous of +regulating his life in such a way as to work as little as possible, and +to make as much use as possible of the labors of others. + +And so he betakes himself to the city, and finds employment about the +wealthy, endeavoring, by every means in his power, to entice from them +that which he is in need of, and conforming to all those conditions which +the wealthy impose upon him, he assists in the gratification of all their +whims; he serves the rich man in the bath and in the inn, and as +cab-driver and prostitute, and he makes for him equipages, toys, and +fashions; and he gradually learns from the rich man to live in the same +manner as the latter, not by labor, but by divers tricks, getting away +from others the wealth which they have heaped together; and he becomes +corrupt, and goes to destruction. And this colony, demoralized by city +wealth, constitutes that city pauperism which I desired to aid and could +not. + +All that is necessary, in fact, is for us to reflect on the condition of +these inhabitants of the country, who have removed to the city in order +to earn their bread or their taxes,--when they behold, everywhere around +them, thousands squandered madly, and hundreds won by the easiest +possible means; when they themselves are forced by heavy toil to earn +kopeks,--and we shall be amazed that all these people should remain +working people, and that they do not all of them take to an easier method +of getting gain,--by trading, peddling, acting as middlemen, begging, +vice, rascality, and even robbery. Why, we, the participants in that +never-ceasing orgy which goes on in town, can become so accustomed to our +life, that it seems to us perfectly natural to dwell alone in five huge +apartments, heated by a quantity of beech logs sufficient to cook the +food for and to warm twenty families; to drive half a verst with two +trotters and two men-servants; to cover the polished wood floor with +rugs; and to spend, I will not say, on a ball, five or ten thousand +rubles, and twenty-five thousand on a Christmas-tree. But a man who is +in need of ten rubles to buy bread for his family, or whose last sheep +has been seized for a tax-debt of seven rubles, and who cannot raise +those rubles by hard labor, cannot grow accustomed to this. We think +that all this appears natural to poor people there are even some +ingenuous persons who say in all seriousness, that the poor are very +grateful to us for supporting them by this luxury.] {96} + +But poor people are not devoid of human understanding simply because they +are poor, and they judge precisely as we do. As the first thought that +occurs to us on hearing that such and such a man has gambled away or +squandered ten or twenty thousand rubles, is: "What a foolish and +worthless fellow he is to uselessly squander so much money! and what a +good use I could have made of that money in a building which I have long +been in need of, for the improvement of my estate, and so forth!"--just +so do the poor judge when they behold the wealth which they need, not for +caprices, but for the satisfaction of their actual necessities, of which +they are frequently deprived, flung madly away before their eyes. We +make a very great mistake when we think that the poor can judge thus, +reason thus, and look on indifferently at the luxury which surrounds +them. + +They never have acknowledged, and they never will acknowledge, that it +can be just for some people to live always in idleness, and for other +people to fast and toil incessantly; but at first they are amazed and +insulted by this; then they scrutinize it more attentively, and, seeing +that these arrangements are recognized as legitimate, they endeavor to +free themselves from toil, and to take part in the idleness. Some +succeed in this, and they become just such carousers themselves; others +gradually prepare themselves for this state; others still fail, and do +not attain their goal, and, having lost the habit of work, they fill up +the disorderly houses and the night-lodging houses. + +Two years ago, we took from the country a peasant boy to wait on table. +For some reason, he did not get on well with the footman, and he was sent +away: he entered the service of a merchant, won the favor of his master, +and now he goes about with a vest and a watch-chain, and dandified boots. +In his place, we took another peasant, a married man: he became a +drunkard, and lost money. We took a third: he took to drunk, and, having +drank up every thing he had, he suffered for a long while from poverty in +the night-lodging house. An old man, the cook, took to drink and fell +sick. Last year a footman who had formerly been a hard drinker, but who +had refrained from liquor for five years in the country, while living in +Moscow without his wife who encouraged him, took to drink again, and +ruined his whole life. A young lad from our village lives with my +brother as a table-servant. His grandfather, a blind old man, came to me +during my sojourn in the country, and asked me to remind this grandson +that he was to send ten rubies for the taxes, otherwise it would be +necessary for him to sell his cow. "He keeps saying, I must dress +decently," said the old man: "well, he has had some shoes made, and +that's all right; but what does he want to set up a watch for?" said the +grandfather, expressing in these words the most senseless supposition +that it was possible to originate. The supposition really was senseless, +if we take into consideration that the old man throughout Lent had eaten +no butter, and that he had no split wood because he could not possibly +pay one ruble and twenty kopeks for it; but it turned out that the old +man's senseless jest was an actual fact. The young fellow came to see me +in a fine black coat, and shoes for which he had paid eight rubles. He +had recently borrowed ten rubles from my brother, and had spent them on +these shoes. And my children, who have known the lad from childhood, +told me that he really considers it indispensable to fit himself out with +a watch. He is a very good boy, but he thinks that people will laugh at +him so long as he has no watch; and a watch is necessary. During the +present year, a chambermaid, a girl of eighteen, entered into a +connection with the coachman in our house. She was discharged. An old +woman, the nurse, with whom I spoke in regard to the unfortunate girl, +reminded me of a girl whom I had forgotten. She too, ten yeans ago, +during a brief stay of ours in Moscow, had become connected with a +footman. She too had been discharged, and she had ended in a disorderly +house, and had died in the hospital before reaching the age of twenty. It +is only necessary to glance about one, to be struck with terror at the +pest which we disseminate directly by our luxurious life among the people +whom we afterwards wish to help, not to mention the factories and +establishments which serve our luxurious tastes. + +[And thus, having penetrated into the peculiar character of city poverty, +which I was unable to remedy, I perceived that its prime cause is this, +that I take absolute necessaries from the dwellers in the country, and +carry them all to the city. The second cause is this, that by making use +here, in the city, of what I have collected in the country, I tempt and +lead astray, by my senseless luxury, those country people who come hither +because of me, in order in some way to get back what they have been +deprived of in the country.] {99} + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +I reached the same conclusion from a totally different point. On +recalling all my relations with the city poor during that time, I saw +that one of the reasons why I could not help the city poor was, that the +poor were disingenuous and untruthful with me. They all looked upon me, +not as a man, but as means. I could not get near them, and I thought +that perhaps I did not understand how to do it; but without uprightness, +no help was possible. How can one help a man who does not disclose his +whole condition? At first I blamed them for this (it is so natural to +blame some one else); but a remark from an observing man named Siutaeff, +who was visiting me at the time, explained this matter to me, and showed +me where the cause of my want of success lay. I remember that Siutaeff's +remark struck me very forcibly at the time; but I only understood its +full significance later on. It was at the height of my self-delusion. I +was sitting with my sister, and Siutaeff was there also at her house; and +my sister was questioning me about my undertaking. I told her about it, +and, as always happens when you have no faith in your course, I talked to +her with great enthusiasm and warmth, and at great length, of what I had +done, and of what might possibly come of it. I told her every thing,--how +we were going to keep track of pauperism in Moscow, how we were going to +keep an eye on the orphans and old people, how we were going to send away +all country people who had grown poor here, how we were going to smooth +the pathway to reform for the depraved; how, if only the matter could be +managed, there would not be a man left in Moscow, who could not obtain +assistance. My sister sympathized with me, and we discussed it. In the +middle of our conversation, I glanced at Siutaeff. As I was acquainted +with his Christian life, and with the significance which he attached to +charity, I expected his sympathy, and spoke so that he understood this; I +talked to my sister, but directed my remarks more at him. He sat +immovable in his dark tanned sheepskin jacket,--which he wore, like all +peasants, both out of doors and in the house,--and as though he did not +hear us, but were thinking of his own affairs. His small eyes did not +twinkle, and seemed to be turned inwards. Having finished what I had to +say, I turned to him with a query as to what he thought of it. + +"It's all a foolish business," said he. + +"Why?" + +"Your whole society is foolish, and nothing good can come out of it," he +repeated with conviction. + +"Why not? Why is it a stupid business to help thousands, at any rate +hundreds, of unfortunate beings? Is it a bad thing, according to the +Gospel, to clothe the naked, and feed the hungry?" + +"I know, I know, but that is not what you are doing. Is it necessary to +render assistance in that way? You are walking along, and a man asks you +for twenty kopeks. You give them to him. Is that alms? Do you give +spiritual alms,--teach him. But what is it that you have given? It was +only for the sake of getting rid of him." + +"No; and, besides, that is not what we are talking about. We want to +know about this need, and then to help by both money and deeds; and to +find work." + +"You can do nothing with those people in that way." + +"So they are to be allowed to die of hunger and cold?" + +"Why should they die? Are there many of them there?" + +"What, many of them?" said I, thinking that he looked at the matter so +lightly because he was not aware how vast was the number of these people. + +"Why, do you know," said I, "I believe that there are twenty thousand of +these cold and hungry people in Moscow. And how about Petersburg and the +other cities?" + +He smiled. + +"Twenty thousand! And how many households are there in Russia alone, do +you think? Are there a million?" + +"Well, what then?" + +"What then?" and his eyes flashed, and he grew animated. "Come, let us +divide them among ourselves. I am not rich, I will take two persons on +the spot. There is the lad whom you took into your kitchen; I invited +him to come to my house, and he did not come. Were there ten times as +many, let us divide them among us. Do you take some, and I will take +some. We will work together. He will see how I work, and he will learn. +He will see how I live, and we will sit down at the same table together, +and he will hear my words and yours. This charity society of yours is +nonsense." + +These simple words impressed me. I could not but admit their justice; +but it seemed to me at that time, that, in spite of their truth, still +that which I had planned might possibly prove of service. But the +further I carried this business, the more I associated with the poor, the +more frequently did this remark recur to my mind, and the greater was the +significance which it acquired for me. + +I arrive in a costly fur coat, or with my horses; or the man who lacks +shoes sees my two-thousand-ruble apartments. He sees how, a little while +ago, I gave five rubles without begrudging them, merely because I took a +whim to do so. He surely knows that if I give away rubles in that +manner, it is only because I have hoarded up so many of them, that I have +a great many superfluous ones, which I not only have not given away, but +which I have easily taken from other people. [What else could he see in +me but one of those persons who have got possession of what belongs to +him? And what other feeling can he cherish towards me, than a desire to +obtain from me as many of those rubles, which have been stolen from him +and from others, as possible? I wish to get close to him, and I complain +that he is not frank; and here I am, afraid to sit down on his bed for +fear of getting lice, or catching something infectious; and I am afraid +to admit him to my room, and he, coming to me naked, waits, generally in +the vestibule, or, if very fortunate, in the ante-chamber. And yet I +declare that he is to blame because I cannot enter into intimate +relations with him, and because me is not frank. + +Let the sternest man try the experiment of eating a dinner of five +courses in the midst of people who have had very little or nothing but +black bread to eat. Not a man will have the spirit to eat, and to watch +how the hungry lick their chops around him. Hence, then, in order to eat +daintily amid the famishing, the first indispensable requisite is to hide +from them, in order that they may not see it. This is the very thing, +and the first thing, that we do. + +And I took a simpler view of our life, and perceived that an approach to +the poor is not difficult to us through accidental causes, but that we +deliberately arrange our lives in such a fashion so that this approach +may be rendered difficult. + +Not only this; but, on taking a survey of our life, of the life of the +wealthy, I saw that every thing which is considered desirable in that +life consists in, or is inseparably bound up with, the idea of getting as +far away from the poor as possible. In fact, all the efforts of our well- +endowed life, beginning with our food, dress, houses, our cleanliness, +and even down to our education,--every thing has for its chief object, +the separation of ourselves from the poor. In procuring this seclusion +of ourselves by impassable barriers, we spend, to put it mildly, nine- +tenths of our wealth. The first thing that a man who was grown wealthy +does is to stop eating out of one bowl, and he sets up crockery, and fits +himself out with a kitchen and servants. And he feeds his servants high, +too, so that their mouths may not water over his dainty viands; and he +eats alone; and as eating in solitude is wearisome, he plans how he may +improve his food and deck his table; and the very manner of taking his +food (dinner) becomes a matter for pride and vain glory with him, and his +manner of taking his food becomes for him a means of sequestering himself +from other men. A rich man cannot think of such a thing as inviting a +poor man to his table. A man must know how to conduct ladies to table, +how to bow, to sit down, to eat, to rinse out the mouth; and only rich +people know all these things. The same thing occurs in the matter of +clothing. If a rich man were to wear ordinary clothing, simply for the +purpose of protecting his body from the cold,--a short jacket, a coat, +felt and leather boots, an under-jacket, trousers, shirt,--he would +require but very little, and he would not be unable, when he had two +coats, to give one of them to a man who had none. But the rich man +begins by procuring for himself clothing which consists entirely of +separate pieces, and which is fit only for separate occasions, and which +is, therefore, unsuited to the poor man. He has frock-coats, vests, pea- +jackets, lacquered boots, cloaks, shoes with French heels, garments that +are chopped up into bits to conform with the fashion, hunting-coats, +travelling-coats, and so on, which can only be used under conditions of +existence far removed from poverty. And his clothing also furnishes him +with a means of keeping at a distance from the poor. The same is the +case, and even more clearly, with his dwelling. In order that one may +live alone in ten rooms, it is indispensable that those who live ten in +one room should not see it. The richer a man is, the more difficult is +he of access; the more porters there are between him and people who are +not rich, the more impossible is it to conduct a poor man over rugs, and +seat him in a satin chair. + +The case is the same with the means of locomotion. The peasant driving +in a cart, or a sledge, must be a very ill-tempered man when he will not +give a pedestrian a lift; and there is both room for this and a +possibility of doing it. But the richer the equipage, the farther is a +man from all possibility of giving a seat to any person whatsoever. It +is even said plainly, that the most stylish equipages are those meant to +hold only one person. + +It is precisely the same thing with the manner of life which is expressed +by the word cleanliness. + +Cleanliness! Who is there that does not know people, especially women, +who reckon this cleanliness in themselves as a great virtue? and who is +not acquainted with the devices of this cleanliness, which know no +bounds, when it can command the labor of others? Which of the people who +have become rich has not experienced in his own case, with what +difficulty he carefully trained himself to this cleanliness, which only +confirms the proverb, "Little white hands love other people's work"? + +To-day cleanliness consists in changing your shirt once a day; to-morrow, +in changing it twice a day. To-day it means washing the face, and neck, +and hands daily; to-morrow, the feet; and day after to-morrow, washing +the whole body every day, and, in addition and in particular, a rubbing- +down. To-day the table-cloth is to serve for two days, to-morrow there +must be one each day, then two a day. To-day the footman's hands must be +clean; to-morrow he must wear gloves, and in his clean gloves he must +present a letter on a clean salver. And there are no limits to this +cleanliness, which is useless to everybody, and objectless, except for +the purpose of separating oneself from others, and of rendering +impossible all intercourse with them, when this cleanliness is attained +by the labors of others. + +Moreover, when I studied the subject, I because convinced that even that +which is commonly called education is the very same thing. + +The tongue does not deceive; it calls by its real name that which men +understand under this name. What the people call culture is fashionable +clothing, political conversation, clean hands,--a certain sort of +cleanliness. Of such a man, it is said, in contradistinction to others, +that he is an educated man. In a little higher circle, what they call +education means the same thing as with the people; only to the conditions +of education are added playing on the pianoforte, a knowledge of French, +the writing of Russian without orthographical errors, and a still greater +degree of external cleanliness. In a still more elevated sphere, +education means all this with the addition of the English language, and a +diploma from the highest educational institution. But education is +precisely the same thing in the first, the second, and the third case. +Education consists of those forms and acquirements which are calculated +to separate a man from his fellows. And its object is identical with +that of cleanliness,--to seclude us from the herd of poor, in order that +they, the poor, may not see how we feast. But it is impossible to hide +ourselves, and they do see us. + +And accordingly I have become convinced that the cause of the inability +of us rich people to help the poor of the city lies in the impossibility +of our establishing intercourse with them; and that this impossibility of +intercourse is caused by ourselves, by the whole course of our lives, by +all the uses which we make of our wealth. I have become convinced that +between us, the rich and the poor, there rises a wall, reared by +ourselves out of that very cleanliness and education, and constructed of +our wealth; and that in order to be in a condition to help the poor, we +must needs, first of all, destroy this wall; and that in order to do +this, confrontation after Siutaeff's method should be rendered possible, +and the poor distributed among us. And from another starting-point also +I came to the same conclusion to which the current of my discussions as +to the causes of the poverty in towns had led me: the cause was our +wealth.] {108} + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +I began to examine the matter from a third and wholly personal point of +view. Among the phenomena which particularly impressed me, during the +period of my charitable activity, there was yet another, and a very +strange one, for which I could for a long time find no explanation. It +was this: every time that I chanced, either on the street on in the +house, to give some small coin to a poor man, without saying any thing to +him, I saw, or thought that I saw, contentment and gratitude on the +countenance of the poor man, and I myself experienced in this form of +benevolence an agreeable sensation. I saw that I had done what the man +wished and expected from me. But if I stopped the poor man, and +sympathetically questioned him about his former and his present life, I +felt that it was no longer possible to give three or twenty kopeks, and I +began to fumble in my purse for money, in doubt as to how much I ought to +give, and I always gave more; and I always noticed that the poor man left +me dissatisfied. But if I entered into still closer intercourse with the +poor man, then my doubts as to how much to give increased also; and, no +matter how much I gave, the poor man grew ever more sullen and +discontented. As a general rule, it always turned out thus, that if I +gave, after conversation with a poor man, three rubles or even more, I +almost always beheld gloom, displeasure, and even ill-will, on the +countenance of the poor man; and I have even known it to happen, that, +having received ten rubles, he went off without so much as saying "Thank +you," exactly as though I had insulted him. + +And thereupon I felt awkward and ashamed, and almost guilty. But if I +followed up a poor man for weeks and months and years, and assisted him, +and explained my views to him, and associated with him, our relations +became a torment, and I perceived that the man despised me. And I felt +that he was in the right. + +If I go out into the street, and he, standing in that street, begs of me +among the number of the other passers-by, people who walk and ride past +him, and I give him money, I then am to him a passer-by, and a good, kind +passer-by, who bestows on him that thread from which a shirt is made for +the naked man; he expects nothing more than the thread, and if I give it +he thanks me sincerely. But if I stop him, and talk with him as man with +man, I thereby show him that I desire to be something more than a mere +passer-by. If, as often happens, he weeps while relating to me his woes, +then he sees in me no longer a passer-by, but that which I desire that he +should see: a good man. But if I am a good man, my goodness cannot pause +at a twenty-kopek piece, nor at ten rubles, nor at ten thousand; it is +impossible to be a little bit of a good man. Let us suppose that I have +given him a great deal, that I have fitted him out, dressed him, set him +on his feet so that the can live without outside assistance; but for some +reason or other, though misfortune or his own weakness or vices, he is +again without that coat, that linen, and that money which I have given +him; he is again cold and hungry, and he has come again to me,--how can I +refuse him? [For if the cause of my action consisted in the attainment +of a definite, material end, on giving him so many rubles or such and +such a coat I might be at ease after having bestowed them. But the cause +of my action is not this: the cause is, that I want to be a good man, +that is to say, I want to see myself in every other man. Every man +understands goodness thus, and in no other manner.] {111} And therefore, +if he should drink away every thing that you had given him twenty times, +and if he should again be cold and hungry, you cannot do otherwise than +give him more, if you are a good man; you can never cease giving to him, +if you have more than he has. And if you draw back, you will thereby +show that every thing that you have done, you have done not because you +are a good man, but because you wished to appear a good man in his sight, +and in the sight of men. + +And thus in the case with the men from whom I chanced to recede, to whom +I ceased to give, and, by this action, denied good, I experienced a +torturing sense of shame. + +What sort of shame was this? This shame I had experienced in the +Lyapinsky house, and both before and after that in the country, when I +happened to give money or any thing else to the poor, and in my +expeditions among the city poor. + +A mortifying incident that occurred to me not long ago vividly reminded +me of that shame, and led me to an explanation of that shame which I had +felt when bestowing money on the poor. + +[This happened in the country. I wanted twenty kopeks to give to a poor +pilgrim; I sent my son to borrow them from some one; he brought the +pilgrim a twenty-kopek piece, and told me that he had borrowed it from +the cook. A few days afterwards some more pilgrims arrived, and again I +was in want of a twenty-kopek piece. I had a ruble; I recollected that I +was in debt to the cook, and I went to the kitchen, hoping to get some +more small change from the cook. I said: "I borrowed a twenty-kopek +piece from you, so here is a ruble." I had not finished speaking, when +the cook called in his wife from another room: "Take it, Parasha," said +he. I, supposing that she understood what I wanted, handed her the +ruble. I must state that the cook had only lived with me a week, and, +though I had seen his wife, I had never spoken to her. I was just on the +point of saying to her that she was to give me some small coins, when she +bent swiftly down to my hand, and tried to kiss it, evidently imaging +that I had given her the ruble. I muttered something, and quitted the +kitchen. I was ashamed, ashamed to the verge of torture, as I had not +been for a long time. I shrank together; I was conscious that I was +making grimaces, and I groaned with shame as I fled from the kitchen. +This utterly unexpected, and, as it seemed to me, utterly undeserved +shame, made a special impression on me, because it was a long time since +I had been mortified, and because I, as an old man, had so lived, it +seemed to me, that I had not merited this shame. I was forcibly struck +by this. I told the members of my household about it, I told my +acquaintances, and they all agreed that they should have felt the same. +And I began to reflect: why had this caused me such shame? To this, +something which had happened to me in Moscow furnished me with an answer. + +I meditated on that incident, and the shame which I had experienced in +the presence of the cook's wife was explained to me, and all those +sensations of mortification which I had undergone during the course of my +Moscow benevolence, and which I now feel incessantly when I have occasion +to give any one any thing except that petty alms to the poor and to +pilgrims, which I have become accustomed to bestow, and which I consider +a deed not of charity but of courtesy. If a man asks you for a light, +you must strike a match for him, if you have one. If a man asks for +three or for twenty kopeks, or even for several rubles, you must give +them if you have them. This is an act of courtesy and not of charity.] +{113} + +This was the case in question: I have already mentioned the two peasants +with whom I was in the habit of sawing wood three yeans ago. One +Saturday evening at dusk, I was returning to the city in their company. +They were going to their employer to receive their wages. As we were +crossing the Dragomilovsky bridge, we met an old man. He asked alms, and +I gave him twenty kopeks. I gave, and reflected on the good effect which +my charity would have on Semyon, with whom I had been conversing on +religious topics. Semyon, the Vladimir peasant, who had a wife and two +children in Moscow, halted also, pulled round the skirt of his kaftan, +and got out his purse, and from this slender purse he extracted, after +some fumbling, three kopeks, handed it to the old man, and asked for two +kopeks in change. The old man exhibited in his hand two three-kopek +pieces and one kopek. Semyon looked at them, was about to take the +kopek, but thought better of it, pulled off his hat, crossed himself, and +walked on, leaving the old man the three-kopek piece. + +I was fully acquainted with Semyon's financial condition. He had no +property at home at all. The money which he had laid by on the day when +he gave three kopeks amounted to six rubles and fifty kopeks. +Accordingly, six rubles and twenty kopeks was the sum of his savings. My +reserve fund was in the neighborhood of six hundred thousand. I had a +wife and children, Semyon had a wife and children. He was younger than +I, and his children were fewer in number than mine; but his children were +small, and two of mine were of an age to work, so that our position, with +the exception of the savings, was on an equality; mine was somewhat the +more favorable, if any thing. He gave three kopeks, I gave twenty. What +did he really give, and what did I really give? What ought I to have +given, in order to do what Semyon had done? he had six hundred kopeks; +out of this he gave one, and afterwards two. I had six hundred thousand +rubles. In order to give what Semyon had given, I should have been +obliged to give three thousand rubles, and ask for two thousand in +change, and then leave the two thousand with the old man, cross myself, +and go my way, calmly conversing about life in the factories, and the +cost of liver in the Smolensk market. + +I thought of this at the time; but it was only long afterwards that I was +in a condition to draw from this incident that deduction which inevitably +results from it. This deduction is so uncommon and so singular, +apparently, that, in spite of its mathematical infallibility, one +requires time to grow used to it. It does seem as though there must be +some mistake, but mistake there is none. There is merely the fearful +mist of error in which we live. + +[This deduction, when I arrived at it, and when I recognized its +undoubted truth, furnished me with an explanation of my shame in the +presence of the cook's wife, and of all the poor people to whom I had +given and to whom I still give money. + +What, in point of fact, is that money which I give to the poor, and which +the cook's wife thought I was giving to her? In the majority of cases, +it is that portion of my substance which it is impossible even to express +in figures to Semyon and the cook's wife,--it is generally one millionth +part or about that. I give so little that the bestowal of any money is +not and cannot be a deprivation to me; it is only a pleasure in which I +amuse myself when the whim seizes me. And it was thus that the cook's +wife understood it. If I give to a man who steps in from the street one +ruble or twenty kopeks, why should not I give her a ruble also? In the +opinion of the cook's wife, such a bestowal of money is precisely the +same as the flinging of honey-cakes to the people by gentlemen; it +furnishes the people who have a great deal of superfluous cash with +amusement. I was mortified because the mistake made by the cook's wife +demonstrated to me distinctly the view which she, and all people who are +not rich, must take of me: "He is flinging away his folly, i.e., his +unearned money." + +As a matter of fact, what is my money, and whence did it come into my +possession? A portion of it I accumulated from the land which I received +from my father. A peasant sold his last sheep or cow in order to give +the money to me. Another portion of my money is the money which I have +received for my writings, for my books. If my books are hurtful, I only +lead astray those who purchase them, and the money which I receive for +them is ill-earned money; but if my books are useful to people, then the +issue is still more disastrous. I do not give them to people: I say, +"Give me seventeen rubles, and I will give them to you." And as the +peasant sells his last sheep, in this case the poor student or teacher, +or any other poor man, deprives himself of necessaries in order to give +me this money. And so I have accumulated a great deal of money in that +way, and what do I do with it? I take that money to the city, and bestow +it on the poor, only when they fulfil my caprices, and come hither to the +city to clean my sidewalk, lamps, and shoes; to work for me in factories. +And in return for this money, I force from them every thing that I can; +that is to say, I try to give them as little as possible, and to receive +as much as possible from them. And all at once I begin, quite +unexpectedly, to bestow this money as a simple gift, on these same poor +persons, not on all, but on those to whom I take a fancy. Why should not +every poor person expect that it is quite possible that the luck may fall +to him of being one of those with whom I shall amuse myself by +distributing my superfluous money? And so all look upon me as the cook's +wife did. + +And I had gone so far astray that this taking of thousands from the poor +with one hand, and this flinging of kopeks with the other, to those to +whom the whim moved me to give, I called good. No wonder that I felt +ashamed.] {116} + +Yes, before doing good it was needful for me to stand outside of evil, in +such conditions that I might cease to do evil. But my whole life is +evil. I may give away a hundred thousand rubles, and still I shall not +be in a position to do good because I shall still have five hundred +thousand left. Only when I have nothing shall I be in a position to do +the least particle of good, even as much as the prostitute did which she +nursed the sick women and her child for three days. And that seemed so +little to me! And I dared to think of good myself! That which, on the +first occasion, told me, at the sight of the cold and hungry in the +Lyapinsky house, that I was to blame for this, and that to live as I live +is impossible, and impossible, and impossible,--that alone was true. + +What, then, was I to do? + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +It was hard for me to come to this confession, but when I had come to it +I was shocked at the error in which I had been living. I stood up to my +ears in the mud, and yet I wanted to drag others out of this mud. + +What is it that I wish in reality? I wish to do good to others. I wish +to do it so that other people may not be cold and hungry, so that others +may live as it is natural for people to live. + +[I wish this, and I see that in consequence of the violence, extortions, +and various tricks in which I take part, people who toil are deprived of +necessaries, and people who do not toil, in whose ranks I also belong, +enjoy in superabundance the toil of other people. + +I see that this enjoyment of the labors of others is so arranged, that +the more rascally and complicated the trickery which is employed by the +man himself, or which has been employed by the person from whom he +obtained his inheritance, the more does he enjoy of the labors of others, +and the less does he contribute of his own labor. + +First come the Shtiglitzy, Dervizy, Morozovy, the Demidoffs, the +Yusapoffs; then great bankers, merchants, officials, landed proprietors, +among whom I also belong; then the poor--very small traders, dramshop- +keepers, usurers, district judges, overseers, teachers, sacristans, +clerks; then house-porters, lackeys, coachmen, watch-carriers, +cab-drivers, peddlers; and last of all, the laboring +classes--factory-hands and peasants, whose numbers bear the relation to +the first named of ten to one. I see that the life of nine-tenths of the +working classes demands, by reason of its nature, application and toil, +as does every natural life; but that, in consequence of the sharp +practices which take from these people what is indispensable, and place +them in such oppressive conditions, this life becomes more difficult +every year, and more filled with deprivations; but our life, the life of +the non-laboring classes, thanks to the co-operation of the arts and +sciences which are directed to this object, becomes more filled with +superfluities, more attractive and careful, with every year. I see, +that, in our day, the life of the workingman, and, in particular, the +life of old men, of women, and of children of the working population, is +perishing directly from their food, which is utterly inadequate to their +fatiguing labor; and that this life of theirs is not free from care as to +its very first requirements; and that, alongside of this, the life of the +non-laboring classes, to which I belong, is filled more and more, every +year, with superfluities and luxury, and becomes more and more free from +anxiety, and has finally reached such a point of freedom from care, in +the case of its fortunate members, of whom I am one, as was only dreamed +of in olden times in fairy-tales,--the state of the owner of the purse +with the inexhaustible ruble, that is, a condition in which a man is not +only utterly released from the law of labor, but in which he possesses +the possibility of enjoying, without toil, all the blessings of life, and +of transferring to his children, or to any one whom he may see fit, this +purse with the inexhaustible ruble. + +I see that the products of the people's toil are more and more +transformed from the mass of the working classes to those who do not +work; that the pyramid of the social edifice seems to be reconstructed in +such fashion that the foundation stones are carried to the apex, and the +swiftness of this transfer is increasing in a sort of geometrical ratio. +I see that the result of this is something like that which would take +place in an ant-heap if the community of ants were to lose their sense of +the common law, if some ants were to begin to draw the products of labor +from the bottom to the top of the heap, and should constantly contract +the foundations and broaden the apex, and should thereby also force the +remaining ants to betake themselves from the bottom to the summit. + +I see that the ideal of the Fortunatus' purse has made its way among the +people, in the place of the ideal of a toilsome life. Rich people, +myself among the number, get possession of the inexhaustible ruble by +various devices, and for the purpose of enjoying it we go to the city, to +the place where nothing is produced and where every thing is swallowed +up. + +The industrious poor man, who is robbed in order that the rich may +possess this inexhaustible ruble, yearns for the city in his train; and +there he also takes to sharp practices, and either acquires for himself a +position in which he can work little and receive much, thereby rendering +still more oppressive the situation of the laboring classes, or, not +having attained to such a position, he goes to ruin, and falls into the +ranks of those cold and hungry inhabitants of the night-lodging houses, +which are being swelled with such remarkable rapidity. + +I belong to the class of those people, who, by divers tricks, take from +the toiling masses the necessaries of life, and who have acquired for +themselves these inexhaustible rubles, and who lead these unfortunates +astray. I desire to aid people, and therefore it is clear that, first of +all, I must cease to rob them as I am doing. But I, by the most +complicated, and cunning, and evil practices, which have been heaped up +for centuries, have acquired for myself the position of an owner of the +inexhaustible ruble, that is to say, one in which, never working myself, +I can make hundreds and thousands of people toil for me--which also I do; +and I imagine that I pity people, and I wish to assist them. I sit on a +man's neck, I weigh him down, and I demand that he shall carry me; and +without descending from his shoulders I assure myself and others that I +am very sorry for him, and that I desire to ameliorate his condition by +all possible means, only not by getting off of him. + +Surely this is simple enough. If I want to help the poor, that is, to +make the poor no longer poor, I must not produce poor people. And I +give, at my own selection, to poor men who have gone astray from the path +of life, a ruble, or ten rubles, or a hundred; and I grasp hundreds from +people who have not yet left the path, and thereby I render them poor +also, and demoralize them to boot. + +This is very simple; but it was horribly hard for me to understand this +fully without compromises and reservations, which might serve to justify +my position; but it sufficed for me to confess my guilt, and every thing +which had before seemed to me strange and complicated, and lacking in +cleanness, became perfectly comprehensible and simple. But the chief +point was, that my way of life, arising from this interpretation, became +simple, clear and pleasant, instead of perplexed, inexplicable and full +of torture as before.] {122a} + +Who am I, that I should desire to help others? I desire to help people; +and I, rising at twelve o'clock after a game of _vint_ {122b} with four +candles, weak, exhausted, demanding the aid of hundreds of people,--I go +to the aid of whom? Of people who rise at five o'clock, who sleep on +planks, who nourish themselves on bread and cabbage, who know how to +plough, to reap, to wield the axe, to chop, to harness, to sew,--of +people who in strength and endurance, and skill and abstemiousness, are a +hundred times superior to me,--and I go to their succor! What except +shame could I feel, when I entered into communion with these people? The +very weakest of them, a drunkard, an inhabitant of the Rzhanoff house, +the one whom they call "the idler," is a hundred-fold more industrious +than I; [his balance, so to speak, that is to say, the relation of what +he takes from people and that which they give him, stands on a thousand +times better footing than my balance, if I take into consideration what I +take from people and what I give to them.] {122a} + +And these are the people to whose assistance I go. I go to help the +poor. But who is the poor man? There is no one poorer than myself. I +am a thoroughly enervated, good-for-nothing parasite, who can only exist +under the most special conditions, who can only exist when thousands of +people toil at the preservation of this life which is utterly useless to +every one. And I, that plant-louse, which devours the foliage of trees, +wish to help the tree in its growth and health, and I wish to heal it. + +I have passed my whole life in this manner: I eat, I talk and I listen; I +eat, I write or read, that is to say, I talk and listen again; I eat, I +play, I eat, again I talk and listen, I eat, and again I go to bed; and +so each day I can do nothing else, and I understand how to do nothing +else. And in order that I may be able to do this, it is necessary that +the porter, the peasant, the cook, male or female, the footman, the +coachman, and the laundress, should toil from morning till night; I will +not refer to the labors of the people which are necessary in order that +coachman, cooks, male and female, footman, and the rest should have those +implements and articles with which, and over which, they toil for my +sake; axes, tubs, brushes, household utensils, furniture, wax, blacking, +kerosene, hay, wood, and beef. And all these people work hard all day +long and every day, so that I may be able to talk and eat and sleep. And +I, this cripple of a man, have imagined that I could help others, and +those the very people who support me! + +It is not remarkable that I could not help any one, and that I felt +ashamed; but the remarkable point is that such an absurd idea could have +occurred to me. The woman who served the sick old man, helped him; the +mistress of the house, who cut a slice from the bread which she had won +from the soil, helped the beggar; Semyon, who gave three kopeks which he +had earned, helped the beggar, because those three kopeks actually +represented his labor: but I served no one, I toiled for no one, and I +was well aware that my money did not represent my labor. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. {124} + + +Into the delusion that I could help others I was led by the fact that I +fancied that my money was of the same sort as Semyon's. But this was not +the case. + +A general idea prevails, that money represents wealth; but wealth is the +product of labor; and, therefore, money represents labor. But this idea +is as just as that every governmental regulation is the result of a +compact (_contrat social_). + +Every one likes to think that money is only a medium of exchange for +labor. I have made shoes, you have raised grain, he has reared sheep: +here, in order that we may the more readily effect an exchange, we will +institute money, which represents a corresponding quantity of labor, and, +by means of it, we will barter our shoes for a breast of lamb and ten +pounds of flour. We will exchange our products through the medium of +money, and the money of each one of us represents our labor. + +This is perfectly true, but true only so long as, in the community where +this exchange is effected, the violence of one man over the rest has not +made its appearance; not only violence over the labors of others, as +happens in wars and slavery, but where he exercises no violence for the +protection of the products of their labor from others. This will be true +only in a community whose members fully carry out the Christian law, in a +community where men give to him who asks, and where he who takes is not +asked to make restitution. But just so soon as any violence whatever is +used in the community, the significance of money for its possessor loses +its significance as a representative of labor, and acquires the +significance of a right founded, not on labor, but on violence. + +As soon as there is war, and one man has taken any thing from any other +man, money can no longer be always the representative of labor; money +received by a warrior for the spoils of war, which he sells, even if he +is the commander of the warriors, is in no way a product of labor, and +possesses an entirely different meaning from money received for work on +shoes. As soon as there are slave-owners and slaves, as there always +have been throughout the whole world, it is utterly impossible to say +that money represents labor. + +Women have woven linen, sold it, and received money; serfs have woven for +their master, and the master has sold them and received the money. The +money is identical in both cases; but in the one case it is the product +of labor, in the other the product of violence. In exactly the same way, +a stranger or my own father has given me money; and my father, when he +gave me that money, knew, and I know, and everybody knows, that no one +can take this money away from me; but if it should occur to any one to +take it away from me, or even not to hand it over at the date when it was +promised, the law would intervene on my behalf, and would compel the +delivery to me of the money; and, again, it is evident that this money +can in no wise be called the equivalent of labor, on a level with the +money received by Semyon for chopping wood. So that in any community +where there is any thing that in any manner whatever controls the labor +of others, or where violence hedges in, by means of money, its +possessions from others, there money is no longer invariably the +representative of labor. In such a community, it is sometimes the +representative of labor, and sometimes of violence. + +Thus it would be where only one act of violence from one man against +others, in the midst of perfectly free relations, should have made its +appearance; but now, when centuries of the most varied deeds of violence +have passed for accumulations of money, when these deeds of violence are +incessant, and merely alter their forms; when, as every one admits, money +accumulated itself represents violence; when money, as a representative +of direct labor, forms but a very small portion of the money which is +derived from every sort of violence,--to say nowadays that money +represents the labor of the person who possesses it, is a self-evident +error or a deliberate lie. + +It may be said, that thus it should be; it may be said, that this is +desirable; but by no means can it be said, that thus it is. + +Money represents labor. Yes. Money does represent labor; but whose? In +our society only in the very rarest, rarest of instances, does money +represent the labor of its possessor, but it nearly always represents the +labor of other people, the past or future labor of men; it is a +representative of the obligation of others to labor, which has been +established by force. + +Money, in its most accurate and at the same the simple application, is +the conventional stamp which confers a right, or, more correctly, a +possibility, of taking advantage of the labors of other people. In its +ideal significance, money should confer this right, or this possibility, +only when it serves as the equivalent of labor, and such money might be +in a community in which no violence existed. But just as soon as +violence, that is to say, the possibility of profiting by the labors of +others without toil of one's own, exists in a community, then that +profiting by the labors of other men is also expressed by money, without +any distinction of the persons on whom that violence is exercised. + +The landed proprietor has imposed upon his serfs natural debts, a certain +quantity of linen, grain, and cattle, or a corresponding amount of money. +One household has procured the cattle, but has paid money in lieu of +linen. The proprietor takes the money to a certain amount only, because +he knows that for that money they will make him the same quantity of +linen, (generally he takes a little more, in order to be sure that they +will make it for the same amount); and this money, evidently, represents +for the proprietor the obligation of other people to toil. + +The peasant gives the money as an obligation, to he knows not whom, but +to people, and there are many of them, who undertake for this money to +make so much linen. But the people who undertake to make the linen, do +so because they have not succeeded in raising sheep, and in place of the +sheep, they must pay money; but the peasant who takes money for his sheep +takes it because he must pay for grain which did not bear well this year. +The same thing goes on throughout this realm, and throughout the whole +world. + +A man sells the product of his labor, past, present or to come, sometimes +his food, and generally not because money constitutes for him a +convenient means of exchange. He could have effected the barter without +money, but he does so because money is exacted from him by violence as a +lien on his labor. + +When the sovereign of Egypt exacted labor from his slaves, the slaves +gave all their labor, but only their past and present labor, their future +labor they could not give. But with the dissemination of money tokens, +and the credit which had its rise in them, it became possible to sell +one's future toil for money. Money, with co-existent violence in the +community, only represents the possibility of a new form of impersonal +slavery, which has taken the place of personal slavery. The slave-owner +has a right to the labor of Piotr, Ivan, and Sidor. But the owner of +money, in a place where money is demanded from all, has a right to the +toil of all those nameless people who are in need of money. Money has +set aside all the oppressive features of slavery, under which an owner +knows his right to Ivan, and with them it has set aside all humane +relations between the owner and the slave, which mitigated the burden of +personal thraldom. + +I will not allude to the fact, that such a condition of things is, +possibly, necessary for the development of mankind, for progress, and so +forth,--that I do not contest. I have merely tried to elucidate to +myself the idea of money, and that universal error into which I fell when +I accepted money as the representative of labor. I became convinced, +after experience, that money is not the representative of labor, but, in +the majority of cases, the representative of violence, or of especially +complicated sharp practices founded on violence. + +Money, in our day, has completely lost that significance which it is very +desirable that it should possess, as the representative of one's own +labor; such a significance it has only as an exception, but, as a general +rule, it has been converted into a right or a possibility of profiting by +the toil of others. + +The dissemination of money, of credit, and of all sorts of money tokens, +confirms this significance of money ever more and more. Money is a new +form of slavery, which differs from the old form of slavery only in its +impersonality, its annihilation of all humane relations with the slave. + +Money--money, is a value which is always equal to itself, and is always +considered legal and righteous, and whose use is regarded as not immoral, +just as the right of slavery was regarded. + +In my young days, the game of loto was introduced into the clubs. +Everybody rushed to play it, and, as it was said, many ruined themselves, +rendered their families miserable, lost other people's money, and +government funds, and committed suicide; and the game was prohibited, and +it remains prohibited to this day. + +I remember to have seen old and unsentimental gamblers, who told me that +this game was particularly pleasing because you did not see from whom you +were winning, as is the case in other games; a lackey brought, not money, +but chips; each man lost a little stake, and his disappointment was not +visible . . . It is the same with roulette, which is everywhere +prohibited, and not without reason. + +It is the same with money. I possess a magic, inexhaustible ruble; I cut +off my coupons, and have retired from all the business of the world. Whom +do I injure,--I, the most inoffensive and kindest of men? But this is +nothing more than playing at loto or roulette, where I do not see the man +who shoots himself, because of his losses, after procuring for me those +coupons which I cut off from the bonds so accurately with a strictly +right-angled corner. + +I have done nothing, I do nothing, and I shall do nothing, except cut off +those coupons; and I firmly believe that money is the representative of +labor! Surely, this is amazing! And people talk of madmen, after that! +Why, what degree of lunacy can be more frightful than this? A sensible, +educated, in all other respects sane man lives in a senseless manner, and +soothes himself for not uttering the word which it is indispensably +necessary that he should utter, with the idea that there is some sense in +his conclusions, and he considers himself a just man. Coupons--the +representatives of toil! Toil! Yes, but of whose toil? Evidently not +of the man who owns them, but of him who labors. + +Slavery is far from being suppressed. It has been suppressed in Rome and +in America, and among us: but only certain laws have been abrogated; only +the word, not the thing, has been put down. Slavery is the freeing of +ourselves alone from the toil which is necessary for the satisfaction of +our demands, by the transfer of this toil to others; and wherever there +exists a man who does not work, not because others work lovingly for him, +but where he possesses the power of not working, and forces others to +work for him, there slavery exists. There too, where, as in all European +societies, there are people who make use of the labor of thousands of +men, and regard this as their right,--there slavery exists in its +broadest measure. + +And money is the same thing as slavery. Its object and its consequences +are the same. Its object is--that one may rid one's self of the first +born of all laws, as a profoundly thoughtful writer from the ranks of the +people has expressed it; from the natural law of life, as we have called +it; from the law of personal labor for the satisfaction of our own wants. +And the results of money are the same as the results of slavery, for the +proprietor; the creation, the invention of new and ever new and never- +ending demands, which can never be satisfied; the enervation of poverty, +vice, and for the slaves, the persecution of man and their degradation to +the level of the beasts. + +Money is a new and terrible form of slavery, and equally demoralizing +with the ancient form of slavery for both slave and slave-owner; only +much worse, because it frees the slave and the slave-owner from their +personal, humane relations.] + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +I am always surprised by the oft-repeated words: "Yes, this is so in +theory, but how is it in practice?" Just as though theory were fine +words, requisite for conversation, but not for the purpose of having all +practice, that is, all activity, indispensably founded on them. There +must be a fearful number of stupid theories current in the world, that +such an extraordinary idea should have become prevalent. Theory is what +a man thinks on a subject, but its practice is what he does. How can a +man think it necessary to do so and so, and then do the contrary? If the +theory of baking bread is, that it must first be mixed, and then set to +rise, no one except a lunatic, knowing this theory, would do the reverse. +But it has become the fashion with us to say, that "this is so in theory, +but how about the practice?" + +In the matter which interests me now, that has been confirmed which I +have always thought,--that practice infallibly flows from theory, and not +that it justifies it, but it cannot possibly be otherwise, for if I have +understood the thing of which I have been thinking, then I cannot carry +out this thing otherwise than as I have understood it. + +I wanted to help the unfortunate only because I had money, and I shared +the general belief that money was the representative of labor, or, on the +whole, something legal and good. But, having begun to give away this +money, I saw, when I gave the bills which I had accumulated from poor +people, that I was doing precisely that which was done by some landed +proprietors who made some of their serfs wait on others. I saw that +every use of money, whether for making purchases, or for giving away +without an equivalent to another, is handing over a note for extortion +from the poor, or its transfer to another man for extortion from the +poor. I saw that money in itself was not only not good, but evidently +evil, and that it deprives us of our highest good,--labor, and thereby of +the enjoyment of our labor, and that that blessing I was not in a +position to confer on any one, because I was myself deprived of it: I do +not work, and I take no pleasure in making use of the labor of others. + +It would appear that there is something peculiar in this abstract +argument as to the nature of money. But this argument which I have made +not for the sake of argument, but for the solution of the problem of my +life, of my sufferings, was for me an answer to my question: What is to +be done? + +As soon as I grasped the meaning of riches, and of money, it not only +became clear and indisputable to me, what I ought to do, but also clear +and indisputable what others ought to do, because they would infallibly +do it. I had only actually come to understand what I had known for a +long time previously, the theory which was given to men from the very +earliest times, both by Buddha, and Isaiah, and Lao-Tze, and Socrates, +and in a peculiarly clear and indisputable manner by Jesus Christ and his +forerunner, John the Baptist. John the Baptist, in answer to the +question of the people,--What were they to do? replied simply, briefly, +and clearly: "He that hath two coats, let him impart to him that hath +none; and he that hath meat, let him do likewise" (Luke iii. 10, 11). In +a similar manner, but with even greater clearness, and on many occasions, +Christ spoke. He said: "Blessed are the poor, and woe to the rich." He +said that it is impossible to serve God and mammon. He forbade his +disciples to take not only money, but also two garments. He said to the +rich young man, that he could not enter into the kingdom of heaven +because he was rich, and that it was easier for a camel to go through the +eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. He +said that he who should not leave every thing, houses and children and +lands, and follow him, could not be his disciple. He told the parable of +the rich man who did nothing bad, like our own rich men, but who only +arrayed himself in costly garments, and ate and drank daintily, and who +lost his soul thereby; and of poor Lazarus, who had done nothing good, +but who was saved merely because he was poor. + +This theory was sufficiently familiar to me, but the false teachings of +the world had so obscured it that it had become for me a theory in the +sense which people are fond of attributing to that term, that is to say, +empty words. But as soon as I had succeeded in destroying in my +consciousness the sophisms of worldly teaching, theory conformed to +practice, and the truth with regard to my life and to the life of the +people about me became its conclusion. + +I understood that man, besides life for his own personal good, is +unavoidably bound to serve the good of others also; that, if we take an +illustration from the animal kingdom,--as some people are fond of doing, +defending violence and conflict by the conflict for existence in the +animal kingdom,--the illustration must be taken from gregarious animals, +like bees; that consequently man, not to mention the love to his neighbor +incumbent on him, is called upon, both by reason and by his nature, to +serve other people and the common good of humanity. I comprehended that +the natural law of man is that according to which only he can fulfil +destiny, and therefore be happy. I understood that this law has been and +is broken hereby,--that people get rid of labor by force (like the robber +bees), make use of the toil of others, directing this toil, not to the +common weal, but to the private satisfaction of swift-growing desires; +and, precisely as in the case of the robber bees, they perish in +consequence. [I understood that the original form of this disinclination +for the law is the brutal violence against weaker individuals, against +women, wars and imprisonments, whose sequel is slavery, and also the +present reign of money. I understood that money is the impersonal and +concealed enslavement of the poor. And, once having perceived the +significance of money as slavery, I could not but hate it, nor refrain +from doing all in my power to free myself from it.] {135} + +When I was a slave-owner, and comprehended the immorality of my position, +I tried to escape from it. My escape consisted in this, that I, +regarding it as immoral, tried to exercise my rights as slave-owner as +little as possible, but to live, and to allow other people to live, as +though that right did not exist. And I cannot refrain from doing the +same thing now in reference to the present form of slavery,--exercising +my right to the labor of others as little as possible, i.e., hiring and +purchasing as little as possible. + +The root of every slavery is the use of the labor of others; and hence, +the compelling others to it is founded indifferently on my right to the +slave, or on my possession of money which is indispensable to him. If I +really do not approve, and if I regard as an evil, the employment of the +labor of others, then I shall use neither my right nor my money for that +purpose; I shall not compel others to toil for me, but I shall endeavor +to free them from the labor which they have performed for me, as far as +possible, either by doing without this labor or by performing it for +myself. + +And this very simple and unavoidable deduction enters into all the +details of my life, effects a total change in it, and at one blow +releases me from those moral sufferings which I have undergone at the +sight of the sufferings and the vice of the people, and instantly +annihilates all three causes of my inability to aid the poor, which I had +encountered while seeking the cause of my lack of success. + +The first cause was the herding of the people in towns, and the +absorption there of the wealth of the country. All that a man needs is +to understand how every hiring or purchase is a handle to extortion from +the poor, and that therefore he must abstain from them, and must try to +fulfil his own requirements; and not a single man will then quit the +country, where all wants can be satisfied without money, for the city, +where it is necessary to buy every thing: and in the country he will be +in a position to help the needy, as has been my own experience and the +experience of every one else. + +The second cause is the estrangement of the rich from the poor. A man +needs but to refrain from buying, from hiring, and, disdaining no sort of +work, to satisfy his requirements himself, and the former estrangement +will immediately be annihilated, and the man, having rejected luxury and +the services of others, will amalgamate with the mass of the working +people, and, standing shoulder to shoulder with the working people, he +can help them. + +The third cause was shame, founded on a consciousness of immorality in my +owning that money with which I desired to help people. All that is +required is: to understand the significance of money as impersonal +slavery, which it has acquired among us, in order to escape for the +future from falling into the error according to which money, though evil +in itself, can be an instrument of good, and in order to refrain from +acquiring money; and to rid one's self of it in order to be in a position +to do good to people, that is, to bestow on them one's labor, and not the +labor of another. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +[I saw that money is the cause of suffering and vice among the people, +and that, if I desired to help people, the first thing that was required +of me was not to create those unfortunates whom I wished to assist. + +I came to the conclusion that the man who does not love vice and the +suffering of the people should not make use of money, thus presenting an +inducement to extortion from the poor, by forcing them to work for him; +and that, in order not to make use of the toil of others, he must demand +as little from others as possible, and work as much as possible himself.] +{138} + +By dint of a long course of reasoning, I came to this inevitable +conclusion, which was drawn thousands of years ago by the Chinese in the +saying, "If there is one idle man, there is another dying with hunger to +offset him. + +[Then what are we to do? John the Baptist gave the answer to this very +question two thousand years ago. And when the people asked him, "What +are we to do?" he said, "Let him that hath two garments impart to him +that hath none, and let him that hath meat do the same." What is the +meaning of giving away one garment out of two, and half of one's food? It +means giving to others every superfluity, and thenceforth taking nothing +superfluous from people. + +This expedient, which furnishes such perfect satisfaction to the moral +feelings, kept my eyes fast bound, and binds all our eyes; and we do not +see it, but gaze aside. + +This is precisely like a personage on the stage, who had entered a long +time since, and all the spectators see him, and it is obvious that the +actors cannot help seeing him, but the point on the stage lies in the +acting characters pretending not to see him, and in suffering from his +absence.] {139} + +Thus we, in our efforts to recover from our social diseases, search in +all quarters, governmental and anti-governmental, and in scientific and +in philanthropic superstitions; and we do not see what is perfectly +visible to every eye. + +For the man who really suffers from the sufferings of the people who +surround us, there exists the very plainest, simplest, and easiest means; +the only possible one for the cure of the evil about us, and for the +acquisition of a consciousness of the legitimacy of his life; the one +given by John the Baptist, and confirmed by Christ: not to have more than +one garment, and not to have money. And not to have any money, means, +not to employ the labor of others, and hence, first of all, to do with +our own hands every thing that we can possibly do. + +This is so clear and simple! But it is clear and simple when the +requirements are simple. I live in the country. I lie on the oven, and +I order my debtor, my neighbor, to chop wood and light my fire. It is +very clear that I am lazy, and that I tear my neighbor away from his +affairs, and I shall feel mortified, and I shall find it tiresome to lie +still all the time; and I shall go and split my wood for myself. + +But the delusion of slavery of all descriptions lies so far back, so much +of artificial exaction has sprung up upon it, so many people, accustomed +in different degrees to these habits, are interwoven with each other, +enervated people, spoiled for generations, and such complicated delusions +and justifications for their luxury and idleness have been devised by +people, that it is far from being so easy for a man who stands at the +summit of the ladder of idle people to understand his sin, as it is for +the peasant who has made his neighbor build his fire. + +It is terribly difficult for people at the top of this ladder to +understand what is required of them. [Their heads are turned by the +height of this ladder of lies, upon which they find themselves when a +place on the ground is offered to them, to which they must descend in +order to begin to live, not yet well, but no longer cruelly, inhumanly; +for this reason, this clear and simple truth appears strange to these +people. For the man with ten servants, liveries, coachmen, cooks, +pictures, pianofortes, that will infallibly appear strange, and even +ridiculous, which is the simplest, the first act of--I will not say every +good man--but of every man who is not wicked: to cut his own wood with +which his food is cooked, and with which he warms himself; to himself +clean those boots with which he has heedlessly stepped in the mire; to +himself fetch that water with which he preserves his cleanliness, and to +carry out that dirty water in which he has washed himself.] {140} + +But, besides the remoteness of people from the truth, there is another +cause which prevents people from seeing the obligation for them of the +simplest and most natural personal, physical labor for themselves: this +is the complication, the inextricability of the conditions, the advantage +of all the people who are bound together among themselves by money, in +which the rich man lives: My luxurious life feeds people. What would +become of my old valet if I were to discharge him? What! we must all do +every thing necessary,--make our clothes and hew wood? . . . And how +about the division of labor?" + +[This morning I stepped out into the corridor where the fires were being +built. A peasant was making a fire in the stove which warms my son's +room. I went in; the latter was asleep. It was eleven o'clock in the +morning. To-day is a holiday: there is some excuse, there are no +lessons. + +The smooth-skinned, eighteen-year-old youth, with a beard, who had eaten +his fill on the preceding evening, sleeps until eleven o'clock. But the +peasant of his age had been up at dawn, and had got through a quantity of +work, and was attending to his tenth stove, while the former slept. "The +peasant shall not make the fire in his stove to warm that smooth, lazy +body of his!" I thought. But I immediately recollected that this stove +also warmed the room of the housekeeper, a woman forty years of age, who, +on the evening before, had been making preparations up to three o'clock +in the morning for the supper which my son had eaten, and that she had +cleared the table, and risen at seven, nevertheless. The peasant was +building the fire for her also. And under her name the lazybones was +warming himself. + +It is true that the interests of all are interwoven; but, even without +any prolonged reckoning, the conscience of each man will say on whose +side lies labor, and on whose idleness. But although conscience says +this, the account-book, the cash-book, says it still more clearly. The +more money any one spends, the more idle he is, that is to say, the more +he makes others work for him. The less he spends, the more he works.] +{142} But trade, but public undertakings, and, finally, the most +terrible of words, culture, the development of sciences, and the +arts,--what of them? + +[If I live I will make answer to those points, and in detail; and until +such answer I will narrate the following.] {142} + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +LIFE IN THE CITY. + + +Last year, in March, I was returning home late at night. As I turned +from the Zubova into Khamovnitchesky Lane, I saw some black spots on the +snow of the Dyevitchy Pole (field). Something was moving about in one +place. I should not have paid any attention to this, if the policeman +who was standing at the end of the street had not shouted in the +direction of the black spots,-- + +"Vasily! why don't you bring her in?" + +"She won't come!" answered a voice, and then the spot moved towards the +policeman. + +I halted and asked the police-officer, "What is it?" + +He said,--"They are taking a girl from the Rzhanoff house to the station- +house; and she is hanging back, she won't walk." A house-porter in a +sheepskin coat was leading her. She was walking forward, and he was +pushing her from behind. All of us, I and the porter and the policeman, +were dressed in winter clothes, but she had nothing on over her dress. In +the darkness I could make out only her brown dress, and the kerchiefs on +her head and neck. She was short in stature, as is often the case with +the prematurely born, with small feet, and a comparatively broad and +awkward figure. + +"We're waiting for you, you carrion. Get along, what do you mean by it? +I'll give it to you!" shouted the policeman. He was evidently tired, and +he had had too much of her. She advanced a few paces, and again halted. + +The little old porter, a good-natured fellow (I know him), tugged at her +hand. "Here, I'll teach you to stop! On with you!" he repeated, as +though in anger. She staggered, and began to talk in a discordant voice. +At every sound there was a false note, both hoarse and whining. + +"Come now, you're shoving again. I'll get there some time!" + +She stopped and then went on. I followed them. + +"You'll freeze," said the porters + +"The likes of us don't freeze: I'm hot." + +She tried to jest, but her words sounded like scolding. She halted again +under the lantern which stands not far from our house, and leaned +against, almost hung over, the fence, and began to fumble for something +among her skirts, with benumbed and awkward hands. Again they shouted at +her, but she muttered something and did something. In one hand she held +a cigarette bent into a bow, in the other a match. I paused behind her; +I was ashamed to pass her, and I was ashamed to stand and look on. But I +made up my mind, and stepped forward. Her shoulder was lying against the +fence, and against the fence it was that she vainly struck the match and +flung it away. I looked in her face. She was really a person +prematurely born; but, as it seemed to me, already an old woman. I +credited her with thirty years. A dirty hue of face; small, dull, tipsy +eyes; a button-like nose; curved moist lips with drooping corners, and a +short wisp of harsh hair escaping from beneath her kerchief; a long flat +figure, stumpy hands and feet. I paused opposite her. She stared at me, +and burst into a laugh, as though she knew all that was going on in my +mind. + +I felt that it was necessary to say something to her. I wanted to show +her that I pitied her. + +"Are your parents alive?" I inquired. + +She laughed hoarsely, with an expression which said, "he's making up +queer things to ask." + +"My mother is," said she. "But what do you want?" + +"And how old are you?" + +"Sixteen," said she, answering promptly to a question which was evidently +customary. + +"Come, march, you'll freeze, you'll perish entirely," shouted the +policeman; and she swayed away from the fence, and, staggering along, she +went down Khamovnitchesky Lane to the police-station; and I turned to the +wicket, and entered the house, and inquired whether my daughters had +returned. I was told that they had been to an evening party, had had a +very merry time, had come home, and were in bed. + +Next morning I wanted to go to the station-house to learn what had been +done with this unfortunate woman, and I was preparing to go out very +early, when there came to see me one of those unlucky noblemen, who, +through weakness, have dropped from the gentlemanly life to which they +are accustomed, and who alternately rise and fall. I had been acquainted +with this man for three years. In the course of those three years, this +man had several times made way with every thing that he had, and even +with all his clothes; the same thing had just happened again, and he was +passing the nights temporarily in the Rzhanoff house, in the +night-lodging section, and he had come to me for the day. He met me as I +was going out, at the entrance, and without listening to me he began to +tell me what had taken place in the Rzhanoff house the night before. He +began his narrative, and did not half finish it; all at once (he is an +old man who has seen men under all sorts of aspects) he burst out +sobbing, and flooded has countenance with tears, and when he had become +silent, turned has face to the wall. This is what he told me. Every +thing that he related to me was absolutely true. I authenticated his +story on the spot, and learned fresh particulars which I will relate +separately. + +In that night-lodging house, on the lower floor, in No. 32, in which my +friend had spent the night, among the various, ever-changing lodgers, men +and women, who came together there for five kopeks, there was a +laundress, a woman thirty years of age, light-haired, peaceable and +pretty, but sickly. The mistress of the quarters had a boatman lover. In +the summer her lover kept a boat, and in the winter they lived by letting +accommodations to night-lodgers: three kopeks without a pillow, five +kopeks with a pillow. + +The laundress had lived there for several months, and was a quiet woman; +but latterly they had not liked her, because she coughed and prevented +the women from sleeping. An old half-crazy woman eighty years old, in +particular, also a regular lodger in these quarters, hated the laundress, +and imbittered the latter's life because she prevented her sleeping, and +cleared her throat all night like a sheep. The laundress held her peace; +she was in debt for her lodgings, and was conscious of her guilt, and +therefore she was bound to be quiet. She began to go more and more +rarely to her work, as her strength failed her, and therefore she could +not pay her landlady; and for the last week she had not been out to work +at all, and had only poisoned the existence of every one, especially of +the old woman, who also did not go out, with her cough. Four days before +this, the landlady had given the laundress notice to leave the quarters: +the latter was already sixty kopeks in debt, and she neither paid them, +nor did the landlady foresee any possibility of getting them; and all the +bunks were occupied, and the women all complained of the laundress's +cough. + +When the landlady gave the laundress notice, and told her that she must +leave the lodgings if she did not pay up, the old woman rejoiced and +thrust the laundress out of doors. The laundress departed, but returned +in an hour, and the landlady had not the heart to put her out again. And +the second and the third day, she did not turn her out. "Where am I to +go?" said the laundress. But on the third day, the landlady's lover, a +Moscow man, who knew the regulations and how to manage, sent for the +police. A policeman with sword and pistol on a red cord came to the +lodgings, and with courteous words he led the laundress into the street. + +It was a clear, sunny, but freezing March day. The gutters were flowing, +the house-porters were picking at the ice. The cabman's sleigh jolted +over the icy snow, and screeched over the stones. The laundress walked +up the street on the sunny side, went to the church, and seated herself +at the entrance, still on the sunny side. But when the sun began to sink +behind the houses, the puddles began to be skimmed over with a glass of +frost, and the laundress grew cold and wretched. She rose, and dragged +herself . . . whither? Home, to the only home where she had lived so +long. While she was on her way, resting at times, dusk descended. She +approached the gates, turned in, slipped, groaned and fell. + +One man came up, and then another. "She must be drunk." Another man +came up, and stumbled over the laundress, and said to the potter: "What +drunken woman is this wallowing at your gate? I came near breaking my +head over her; take her away, won't you?" + +The porter came. The laundress was dead. This is what my friend told +me. It may be thought that I have wilfully mixed up facts,--I encounter +a prostitute of fifteen, and the story of this laundress. But let no one +imagine this; it is exactly what happened in the course of one night +(only I do not remember which) in March, 1884. And so, after hearing my +friend's tale, I went to the station-house, with the intention of +proceeding thence to the Rzhanoff house to inquire more minutely into the +history of the laundress. The weather was very beautiful and sunny; and +again, through the stars of the night-frost, water was to be seen +trickling in the shade, and in the glare of the sun on Khamovnitchesky +square every thing was melting, and the water was streaming. The river +emitted a humming noise. The trees of the Neskutchny garden looked blue +across the river; the reddish-brown sparrows, invisible in winter, +attracted attention by their sprightliness; people also seemed desirous +of being merry, but all of them had too many cares. The sound of the +bells was audible, and at the foundation of these mingling sounds, the +sounds of shots could be heard from the barracks, the whistle of rifle- +balls and their crack against the target. + +I entered the station-house. In the station some armed policemen +conducted me to their chief. He was similarly armed with sword and +pistol, and he was engaged in taking some measures with regard to a +tattered, trembling old man, who was standing before him, and who could +not answer the questions put to him, on account of his feebleness. Having +finished his business with the old man, he turned to me. I inquired +about the girl of the night before. At first he listened to me +attentively, but afterwards he began to smile, at my ignorance of the +regulations, in consequence of which she had been taken to the station- +house; and particularly at my surprise at her youth. + +"Why, there are plenty of them of twelve, thirteen, or fourteen years of +age," he said cheerfully. + +But in answer to my question about the girl whom I had seen on the +preceding evening, he explained to me that she must have been sent to the +committee (so it appeared). To my question where she had passed the +night, he replied in an undecided manner. He did not recall the one to +whom I referred. There were so many of them every day. + +In No. 32 of the Rzhanoff house I found the sacristan already reading +prayers over the dead woman. They had taken her to the bunk which she +had formerly occupied; and the lodgers, all miserable beings, had +collected money for the masses for her soul, a coffin and a shroud, and +the old women had dressed her and laid her out. The sacristan was +reading something in the gloom; a woman in a long wadded cloak was +standing there with a wax candle; and a man (a gentleman, I must state) +in a clean coat with a lamb's-skin collar, polished overshoes, and a +starched shirt, was holding one like it. This was her brother. They had +hunted him up. + +I went past the dead woman to the landlady's nook, and questioned her +about the whole business. + +She was alarmed at my queries; she was evidently afraid that she would be +blamed for something; but afterwards she began to talk freely, and told +me every thing. As I passed back, I glanced at the dead woman. All dead +people are handsome, but this dead woman was particularly beautiful and +touching in her coffin; her pure, pale face, with closed swollen eyes, +sunken cheeks, and soft reddish hair above the lofty brow,--a weary and +kind and not a sad but a surprised face. And in fact, if the living do +not see, the dead are surprised. + +On the same day that I wrote the above, there was a great ball in Moscow. + +That night I left the house at nine o'clock. I live in a locality which +is surrounded by factories, and I left the house after the +factory-whistles had sounded, releasing the people for a day of freedom +after a week of unremitting toil. + +Factory-hands overtook me, and I overtook others of them, directing their +steps to the drinking-shops and taverns. Many were already intoxicated, +many were women. Every morning at five o'clock we can hear one whistle, +a second, a third, a tenth, and so forth, and so forth. That means that +the toil of women, children, and of old men has begun. At eight o'clock +another whistle, which signifies a breathing-spell of half an hour. At +twelve, a third: this means an hour for dinner. And a fourth at eight, +which denotes the end of the day. + +By an odd coincidence, all three of the factories which are situated near +me produce only articles which are in demand for balls. + +In one factory, the nearest, only stockings are made; in another +opposite, silken fabrics; in the third, perfumes and pomades. + +It is possible to listen to these whistles, and connect no other idea +with them than as denoting the time: "There's the whistle already, it is +time to go to walk." But one can also connect with those whistles that +which they signify in reality; that first whistle, at five o'clock, means +that people, often all without exception, both men and women, sleeping in +a damp cellar, must rise, and hasten to that building buzzing with +machines, and must take their places at their work, whose end and use for +themselves they do not see, and thus toil, often in heat and a stifling +atmosphere, in the midst of dirt, and with the very briefest breathing- +spells, an hour, two hours, three hours, twelve, and even more hours in +succession. They fall into a doze, and again they rise. And this, for +them, senseless work, to which they are driven only by necessity, is +continued over and over again. + +And thus one week succeeds another with the breaks of holidays; and I see +these work-people released on one of these holidays. They emerge into +the street. Everywhere there are drinking-shops, taverns, and loose +girls. And they, in their drunken state, drag by the hand each other, +and girls like the one whom I saw taken to the station-house; they drag +with them cabmen, and they ride and they walk from one tavern to another; +and they curse and stagger, and say they themselves know not what. I had +previously seen such unsteady gait on the part of factory-hands, and had +turned aside in disgust, and had been on the point of rebuking them; but +ever since I have been in the habit of hearing those whistles every day, +and understand their meaning, I am only amazed that they, all the men, do +not come to the condition of the "golden squad," of which Moscow is full, +{152a} [and the women to the state of the one whom I had seen near my +house]. {152b} + +Thus I walked along, and scrutinized these factory-hands, as long as they +roamed the streets, which was until eleven o'clock. Then their movements +began to calm down. Some drunken men remained here and there, and here +and there I encountered men who were being taken to the station-house. +And then carriages began to make their appearance on all sides, directing +their course toward one point. + +On the box sits a coachman, sometimes in a sheepskin coat; and a footman, +a dandy, with a cockade. Well-fed horses in saddle-cloths fly through +the frost at the rate of twenty versts an hour; in the carriages sit +ladies muffled in round cloaks, and carefully tending their flowers and +head-dresses. Every thing from the horse-trappings, the carriages, the +gutta-percha wheels, the cloth of the coachman's coat, to the stockings, +shoes, flowers, velvet, gloves, and perfumes,--every thing is made by +those people, some of whom often roll drunk into their dens or sleeping- +rooms, and some stay with disreputable women in the night-lodging houses, +while still others are put in jail. Thus past them in all their work, +and over them all, ride the frequenters of balls; and it never enters +their heads, that there is any connection between these balls to which +they make ready to go, and these drunkards at whom their coachman shouts +so roughly. + +These people enjoy themselves at the ball with the utmost composure of +spirit, and assurance that they are doing nothing wrong, but something +very good. Enjoy themselves! Enjoy themselves from eleven o'clock until +six in the morning, in the very dead of night, at the very hour when +people are tossing and turning with empty stomachs in the night-lodging +houses, and while some are dying, as did the laundress. + +Their enjoyment consists in this,--that the women and young girls, having +bared their necks and arms, and applied bustles behind, place themselves +in a situation in which no uncorrupted woman or maiden would care to +display herself to a man, on any consideration in the world; and in this +half-naked condition, with their uncovered bosoms exposed to view, with +arms bare to the shoulder, with a bustle behind and tightly swathed hips, +under the most brilliant light, women and maidens, whose chief virtue has +always been modesty, exhibit themselves in the midst of strange men, who +are also clad in improperly tight-fitting garments; and to the sound of +maddening music, they embrace and whirl. Old women, often as naked as +the young ones, sit and look on, and eat and drink savory things; old men +do the same. It is not to be wondered at that this should take place at +night, when all the common people are asleep, so that no one may see +them. But this is not done with the object of concealment: it seems to +them that there is nothing to conceal; that it is a very good thing; that +by this merry-making, in which the labor of thousands of toiling people +is destroyed, they not only do not injure any one, but that by this very +act they furnish the poor with the means of subsistence. Possibly it is +very merry at balls. But how does this come about? When we see that +there is a man in the community, in our midst, who has had no food, or +who is freezing, we regret our mirth, and we cannot be cheerful until he +is fed and warmed, not to mention the impossibility of imagining people +who can indulge in such mirth as causes suffering to others. The mirth +of wicked little boys, who pitch a dog's tail in a split stick, and make +merry over it, is repulsive and incomprehensible to us. + +In the same manner here, in these diversions of ours, blindness has +fallen upon us, and we do not see the split stick with which we have +pitched all those people who suffer for our amusement. + +[We live as though there were no connection between the dying laundress, +the prostitute of fourteen, and our own life; and yet the connection +between them strikes us in the face. + +We may say: "But we personally have not pinched any tail in a stick;" but +we have no right, to deny that had the tail not been pitched, our merry- +making would not have taken place. We do not see what connection exists +between the laundress and our luxury; but that is not because no such +connection does exist, but because we have placed a screen in front of +us, so that we may not see. + +If there were no screen, we should see that which it is impossible not to +see.] {154} + +Surely all the women who attended that ball in dresses worth a hundred +and fifty rubles each were born not in a ballroom, or at Madame +Minanguoit's; but they have lived in the country, and have seen the +peasants; they know their own nurse and maid, whose father and brother +are poor, for whom the earning of a hundred and fifty rubles for a +cottage is the object of a long, laborious life. Each woman knows this. +How could she enjoy herself, when she knew that she wore on her bared +body at that ball the cottage which is the dream of her good maid's +father and brother? But let us suppose that she could not make this +reflection; but since velvet and silk and flowers and lace and dresses do +not grow of themselves, but are made by people, it would seem that she +could not help knowing what sort of people make all these things, and +under what conditions, and why they do it. She cannot fail to know that +the seamstress, with whom she has already quarrelled, did not make her +dress in the least out of love for her; therefore, she cannot help +knowing that all these things were made for her as a matter of necessity, +that her laces, flowers, and velvet have been made in the same way as her +dress. + +But possibly they are in such darkness that they do not consider this. +One thing she cannot fail to know,--that five or six elderly and +respectable, often sick, lackeys and maids have had no sleep, and have +been put to trouble on her account. She has seen their weary, gloomy +faces. She could not help knowing this also, that the cold that night +reached twenty-eight degrees below zero, {155} and that the old coachman +sat all night long in that temperature on his box. But I know that they +really do not see this. And if they, these young women and girls, do not +see this, on account of the hypnotic state superinduced in them by balls, +it is impossible to condemn them. They, poor things, have done what is +considered right by their elders; but how are their elders to explain +away this their cruelty to the people? + +The elders always offer the explanation: "I compel no one. I purchase my +things; I hire my men, my maid-servants, and my coachman. There is +nothing wrong in buying and hiring. I force no one's inclination: I +hire, and what harm is there in that?" + +I recently went to see an acquaintance. As I passed through one of the +rooms, I was surprised to see two women seated at a table, as I knew that +my friend was a bachelor. A thin, yellow, old-fashioned woman, thirty +years of age, in a dress that had been carelessly thrown on, was doing +something with her hands and fingers on the table, with great speed, +trembling nervously the while, as though in a fit. Opposite her sat a +young girl, who was also engaged in something, and who trembled in the +same manner. Both women appeared to be afflicted with St. Vitus' dance. +I stepped nearer to them, and looked to see what they were doing. They +raised their eyes to me, but went on with their work with the same +intentness. In front of them lay scattered tobacco and paper cases. They +were making cigarettes. The woman rubbed the tobacco between her hands, +pushed it into the machine, slipped on the cover, thrust the tobacco +through, then tossed it to the girl. The girl twisted the paper, and, +making it fast, threw it aside, and took up another. All thus was done +with such swiftness, with such intentness, as it is impossible to +describe to a man who has never seen it done. I expressed my surprise at +their quickness. + +"I have been doing nothing else for fourteen years," said the woman. + +"Is it hard?" + +"Yes: it pains my chest, and makes my breathing hard." + +It was not necessary for her to add this, however. A look at the girl +sufficed. She had worked at this for three years, but any one who had +not seen her at this occupation would have said that here was a strong +organism which was beginning to break down. + +My friend, a kind and liberal man, hires these women to fill his +cigarettes at two rubles fifty kopeks the thousand. He has money, and he +spends it for work. What harm is there in that? My friend rises at +twelve o'clock. He passes the evening, from six until two, at cards, or +at the piano. He eats and drinks savory things; others do all his work +for him. He has devised a new source of pleasure,--smoking. He has +taken up smoking within my memory. + +Here is a woman, and here is a girl, who can barely support themselves by +turning themselves into machines, and they pass their whole lives +inhaling tobacco, and thereby running their health. He has money which +he never earned, and he prefers to play at whist to making his own +cigarettes. He gives these women money on condition that they shall +continue to live in the same wretched manner in which they are now +living, that is to say, by making his cigarettes. + +I love cleanliness, and I give money only on the condition that the +laundress shall wash the shirt which I change twice a day; and that shirt +has destroyed the laundress's last remaining strength, and she has died. +What is there wrong about that? People who buy and hire will continue to +force other people to make velvet and confections, and will purchase +them, without me; and no matter what I may do, they will hire cigarettes +made and shirts washed. Then why should I deprive myself of velvet and +confections and cigarettes and clean shirts, if things are definitively +settled thus? This is the argument which I often, almost always, hear. +This is the very argument which makes the mob which is destroying +something, lose its senses. This is the very argument by which dogs are +guided when one of them has flung himself on another dog, and overthrown +him, and the rest of the pack rush up also, and tear their comrade in +pieces. Other people have begun it, and have wrought mischief; then why +should not I take advantage of it? Well, what will happen if I wear a +soiled shirt, and make my own cigarettes? Will that make it easier for +anybody else? ask people who would like to justify their course. If it +were not so far from the truth, it would be a shame to answer such a +question, but we have become so entangled that this question seems very +natural to us; and hence, although it is a shame, it is necessary to +reply to it. + +What difference will it make if I wear one shirt a week, and make may own +cigarettes, or do not smoke at all? This difference, that some laundress +and some cigarette-maker will exert their strength less, and that what I +have spent for washing and for the making of cigarettes I can give to +that very laundress, or even to other laundresses and toilers who are +worn out with their labor, and who, instead of laboring beyond their +strength, will then be able to rest, and drink tea. But to this I hear +an objection. (It is so mortifying to rich and luxurious people to +understand their position.) To this they say: "If I go about in a dirty +shirt, and give up smoking, and hand over this money to the poor, the +poor will still be deprived of every thing, and that drop in the sea of +yours will help not at all." + +Such an objection it is a shame to answer. It is such a common retort. +{158} + +If I had gone among savages, and they had regaled me with cutlets which +struck me as savory, and if I should learn on the following day that +these savory cutlets had been made from a prisoner whom they had slain +for the sake of the savory cutlets, if I do not admit that it is a good +thing to eat men, then, no matter how dainty the cutlets, no matter how +universal the practice of eating men may be among my fellows, however +insignificant the advantage to prisoners, prepared for consumption, may +be my refusal to eat of the cutlets, I will not and I can not eat any +more of them. I may, possibly, eat human flesh, when hunger compels me +to it; but I will not make a feast, and I will not take part in feasts, +of human flesh, and I will not seek out such feasts, and pride myself on +my share in them. + + +LIFE IN THE COUNTRY. + + +But what is to be done? Surely it is not we who have done this? And if +not we, who then? + +We say: "We have not done this, this has done itself;" as the children +say, when they break any thing, that it broke itself. We say, that, so +long as there is a city already in existence, we, by living in it, +support the people, by purchasing their labor and services. But this is +not so. And this is why. We only need to look ourselves, at the way we +have in the country, and at the manner in which we support people there. + +The winter passes in town. Easter Week passes. On the boulevards, in +the gardens in the parks, on the river, there is music. There are +theatres, water-trips, walks, all sorts of illuminations and fireworks. +But in the country there is something even better,--there are better air, +trees and meadows, and the flowers are fresher. One should go thither +where all these things have unfolded and blossomed forth. And the +majority of wealthy people do go to the country to breathe the superior +air, to survey these superior forests and meadows. And there the wealthy +settle down in the country, and the gray peasants, who nourish themselves +on bread and onions, who toil eighteen hours a day, who get no sound +sleep by night, and who are clad in blouses. Here no one has led these +people astray. There have been no factories nor industrial +establishments, and there are none of those idle hands, of which there +are so many in the city. Here the whole population never succeeds, all +summer long, in completing all their tasks in season; and not only are +there no idle hands, but a vast quantity of property is ruined for the +lack of hands, and a throng of people, children, old men, and women, will +perish through overstraining their powers in work which is beyond their +strength. How do the rich order their lives there? In this fashion:-- + +If there is an old-fashioned house, built under the serf _regime_, that +house is repaired and embellished; if there is none, then a new one is +erected, of two or three stories. The rooms, of which there are from +twelve to twenty, and even more, are all six arshins in height. {161a} +Wood floors are laid down. The windows consist of one sheet of glass. +There are rich rugs and costly furniture. The roads around the house are +macadamized, the ground is levelled, flower-beds are laid out, croquet- +grounds are prepared, swinging-rings for gymnastics are erected, +reflecting globes, often orangeries, and hotbeds, and lofty stables +always with complicated scroll-work on the gables and ridges. + +And here, in the country, an honest educated official, or noble family +dwells. All the members of the family and their guests have assembled in +the middle of June, because up to June, that is to say, up to the +beginning of mowing-time, they have been studying and undergoing +examinations; and they live there until September, that is to say, until +harvest and sowing-time. The members of this family (as is the case with +nearly every one in that circle) have lived in the country from the +beginning of the press of work, the suffering time, not until the end of +the season of toil (for in September sowing is still in progress, as well +as the digging of potatoes), but until the strain of work has relaxed a +little. During the whole of their residence in the country, all around +them and beside them, that summer toil of the peasantry has been going +on, of whose fatigues, no matter how much we may have heard, no matter +how much we may have heard about it, no matter how much we may have gazed +upon it, we can form no idea, unless we have had personal experience of +it. And the members of this family, about ten in number, live exactly as +they do in the city. + +At St. Peter's Day, {161b} a strict fast, when the people's food consists +of kvas, bread, and onions, the mowing begins. + +The business which is effected in mowing is one of the most important in +the commune. Nearly every year, through the lack of hands and time, the +hay crop may be lost by rain; and more or less strain of toil decides the +question, as to whether twenty or more per cent of hay is to be added to +the wealth of the people, or whether it is to rot or die where it stands. +And additional hay means additional meat for the old, and additional milk +for the children. Thus, in general and in particular, the question of +bread for each one of the mowers, and of milk for himself and his +children, in the ensuing winter, is then decided. Every one of the +toilers, both male and female, knows this; even the children know that +this is an important matter, and that it is necessary to strain every +nerve to carry the jug of kvas to their father in the meadow at his +mowing, and, shifting the heavy pitcher from hand to hand, to run +barefooted as rapidly as possible, two versts from the village, in order +to get there in season for dinner, and so that their fathers may not +scold them. + +Every one knows, that, from the mowing season until the hay is got in, +there will be no break in the work, and that there will be no time to +breathe. And there is not the mowing alone. Every one of them has other +affairs to attend to besides the mowing: the ground must be turned up and +harrowed; and the women have linen and bread and washing to attend to; +and the peasants have to go to the mill, and to town, and there are +communal matters to attend to, and legal matters before the judge and the +commissary of police; and the wagons to see to, and the horses to feed at +night: and all, old and young, and sickly, labor to the last extent of +their powers. The peasants toil so, that on every occasion, the mowers, +before the end of the third stint, whether weak, young, or old, can +hardly walk as they totter past the last rows, and only with difficulty +are they able to rise after the breathing-spell; and the women, often +pregnant, or nursing infants, work in the same way. The toil is intense +and incessant. All work to the extreme bounds of their strength, and +expend in this toil, not only the entire stock of their scanty +nourishment, but all their previous stock. All of them--and they are not +fat to begin with--grow gaunt after the "suffering" season. + +Here a little association is working at the mowing; three peasants,--one +an old man, the second his nephew, a young married man, and a shoemaker, +a thin, sinewy man. This hay-harvest will decide the fate of all of them +for the winter. They have been laboring incessantly for two weeks, +without rest. The rain has delayed their work. After the rain, when the +hay has dried, they have decided to stack it, and, in order to accomplish +this as speedily as possible, that two women for each of them shall +follow their scythes. On the part of the old man go his wife, a woman of +fifty, who has become unfit for work, having borne eleven children, who +is deaf, but still a tolerably stout worker; and a thirteen-year-old +daughter, who is short of stature, but a strong and clever girl. On the +part of his nephew go his wife, a woman as strong and well-grown as a +sturdy peasant, and his daughter-in-law, a soldier's wife, who is about +to become a mother. On the part of the shoemaker go his wife, a stout +laborer, and her aged mother, who has reached her eightieth year, and who +generally goes begging. They all stand in line, and labor from morning +till night, in the full fervor of the June sun. It is steaming hot, and +rain threatens. Every hour of work is precious. It is a pity to tear +one's self from work to fetch water or kvas. A tiny boy, the old woman's +grandson, brings them water. The old woman, evidently only anxious lest +she shall be driven away from her work, will not let the rake out of her +hand, though it is evident that she can barely move, and only with +difficulty. The little boy, all bent over, and stepping gently, with his +tiny bare feet, drags along a jug of water, shifting it from hand to +hand, for it is heavier than he. The young girl flings over her shoulder +a load of hay which is also heavier than herself, advances a few steps, +halts, and drops it, without the strength to carry it. The old woman of +fifty rakes away without stopping, and with her kerchief awry she drags +the hay, breathing heavily and tottering. The old woman of eighty only +rakes the hay, but even this is beyond her strength; she slowly drags +along her feet, shod with bast shoes, and, frowning, she gazes gloomily +before her, like a seriously ill or dying person. The old man has +intentionally sent her farther away than the rest, to rake near the cocks +of hay, so that she may not keep in line with the others; but she does +not fall in with this arrangement, and she toils on as long as the others +do, with the same death-like, gloomy countenance. The sun is already +setting behind the forest; but the cocks are not yet all heaped together, +and much still remains to do. All feel that it is time to stop, but no +one speaks, waiting until the others shall say it. Finally the +shoemaker, conscious that his strength is exhausted, proposes to the old +man, to leave the cocks until the morrow; and the old man consents, and +the women instantly run for the garments, jugs, pitchforks; and the old +woman immediately sits down just where she has been standings and then +lies back with the same death-like look, staring straight in front of +her. But the women are going; and she rises with a groan, and drags +herself after them. And this will go on in July also, when the peasants, +without obtaining sufficient sleep, reap the oats by night, lest it +should fall, and the women rise gloomily to thresh out the straw for the +bands to tie the sheaves; when this old woman, already utterly cramped by +the labor of mowing, and the woman with child, and the young children, +injure themselves overworking and over-drinking; and when neither hands, +nor horses, nor carts will suffice to bring to the ricks that grain with +which all men are nourished, and millions of poods {165} of which are +daily required in Russia to keep people from perishing. + +And we live as though there were no connection between the dying +laundress, the prostitute of fourteen years, the toilsome manufacture of +cigarettes by women, the strained, intolerable, insufficiently fed toil +of old women and children around us; we live as though there were no +connection between this and our own lives. + +It seems to us, that suffering stands apart by itself, and our life apart +by itself. We read the description of the life of the Romans, and we +marvel at the inhumanity of those soulless Luculli, who satiated +themselves on viands and wines while the populace were dying with hunger. +We shake our heads, and we marvel at the savagery of our grandfathers, +who were serf-owners, supporters of household orchestras and theatres, +and of whole villages devoted to the care of their gardens; and we +wonder, from the heights of our grandeur, at their inhumanity. We read +the words of Isa. v. 8: "Woe unto them that join house to house, that lay +field to field, till there be no place, that they may be placed alone in +the midst of the earth! (11.) Woe unto them that rise up early in the +morning, that they may follow strong drink; that continue until night, +till wine inflame them! (12.) And the harp and the viol, and tabret and +pipe, and wine are in their feasts; but they regard not the work of the +Lord, neither consider the operation of his hands. (18.) Woe unto them +that draw iniquity with cords of vanity, and sin as it were with a cart- +rope. (20.) Woe unto then that call evil good, and good evil; that put +darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, +and sweet for bitter! (21.) Woe unto them that are wise in their own +eyes, and prudent in their own sight--(22.) Woe unto them that are mighty +to drink wine, and men of strength to mingle strong drink." + +We read these words, and it seems to us that this has no reference to us. +We read in the Gospels (Matt. iii. 10): "And now also the axe is laid +unto the root of the trees: therefore every tree which bringeth not forth +good fruit is hewn down and cast into the fire." + +And we are fully convinced that the good tree which bringeth forth good +fruit is ourselves; and that these words are not spoken to us, but to +some other and wicked people. + +We read the words of Isa. vi. 10: "Make the heart of this people fat, and +make their ears heavy, and shut their eyes; lest they see with their +eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their heart, and +convert and be healed. (11.) Then said I: Lord, how long? And he +answered, Until the cities be wasted without inhabitant, and the houses +without man, and the land be utterly desolate." + +We read, and are fully convinced that this marvellous deed is not +performed on us, but on some other people. And because we see nothing it +is, that this marvellous deed is performed, and has been performed, on +us. We hear not, we see not, and we understand not with our heart. How +has this happened? + +Whether that God, or that natural law by virtue of which men exist in the +world, has acted well or ill, yet the position of men in the world, ever +since we have known it, has been such, that naked people, without any +hair on their bodies, without lairs in which they could shelter +themselves, without food which they could find in the fields,--like +Robinson {167} on his island,--have all been reduced to the necessity of +constantly and unweariedly contending with nature in order to cover their +bodies, to make themselves clothing, to construct a roof over their +heads, and to earn their bread, that two or three times a day they may +satisfy their hunger and the hunger of their helpless children and of +their old people who cannot work. + +Wherever, at whatever time, in whatever numbers we may have observed +people, whether in Europe, in America, in China, or in Russia, whether we +regard all humanity, or any small portion of it, in ancient times, in a +nomad state, or in our own times, with steam-engines and sewing-machines, +perfected agriculture, and electric lighting, we behold always one and +the same thing,--that man, toiling intensely and incessantly, is not able +to earn for himself and his little ones and his old people clothing, +shelter, and food; and that a considerable portion of mankind, as in +former times, so at the present day, perish through insufficiency of the +necessaries of life, and intolerable toil in the effort to obtain them. + +Wherever we have, if we draw a circle round us of a hundred thousand, a +thousand, or ten versts, or of one verst, and examine into the lives of +the people comprehended within the limits of our circle, we shall see +within that circle prematurely-born children, old men, old women, women +in labor, sick and weak persons, who toil beyond their strength, and who +have not sufficient food and rest for life, and who therefore die before +their time. We shall see people in the flower of their age actually +slain by dangerous and injurious work. + +We see that people have been struggling, ever since the world has +endured, with fearful effort, privation, and suffering, against this +universal want, and that they cannot overcome it . . . {168} + + + + +ON THE SIGNIFICANCE OF SCIENCE AND ART. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +. . . {169} The justification of all persons who have freed themselves +from toil is now founded on experimental, positive science. The +scientific theory is as follows:-- + +"For the study of the laws of life of human societies, there exists but +one indubitable method,--the positive, experimental, critical method + +"Only sociology, founded on biology, founded on all the positive +sciences, can give us the laws of humanity. Humanity, or human +communities, are the organisms already prepared, or still in process of +formation, and which are subservient to all the laws of the evolution of +organisms. + +"One of the chief of these laws is the variation of destination among the +portions of the organs. Some people command, others obey. If some have +in superabundance, and others in want, this arises not from the will of +God, not because the empire is a form of manifestation of personality, +but because in societies, as in organisms, division of labor becomes +indispensable for life as a whole. Some people perform the muscular +labor in societies; others, the mental labor." + +Upon this doctrine is founded the prevailing justification of our time. + +Not long ago, their reigned in the learned, cultivated world, a moral +philosophy, according to which it appeared that every thing which exists +is reasonable; that there is no such thing as evil or good; and that it +is unnecessary for man to war against evil, but that it is only necessary +for him to display intelligence,--one man in the military service, +another in the judicial, another on the violin. There have been many and +varied expressions of human wisdom, and these phenomena were known to the +men of the nineteenth century. The wisdom of Rousseau and of Lessing, +and Spinoza and Bruno, and all the wisdom of antiquity; but no one man's +wisdom overrode the crowd. It was impossible to say even this,--that +Hegel's success was the result of the symmetry of this theory. There +were other equally symmetrical theories,--those of Descartes, Leibnitz, +Fichte, Schopenhauer. There was but one reason why this doctrine won for +itself, for a season, the belief of the whole world; and this reason was, +that the deductions of that philosophy winked at people's weaknesses. +These deductions were summed up in this,--that every thing was +reasonable, every thing good; and that no one was to blame. + +When I began my career, Hegelianism was the foundation of every thing. It +was floating in the air; it was expressed in newspaper and periodical +articles, in historical and judicial lectures, in novels, in treatises, +in art, in sermons, in conversation. The man who was not acquainted with +Hegal had no right to speak. Any one who desired to understand the truth +studied Hegel. Every thing rested on him. And all at once the forties +passed, and there was nothing left of him. There was not even a hint of +him, any more than if he had never existed. And the most amazing thing +of all was, that Hegelianism did not fall because some one overthrew it +or destroyed it. No! It was the same then as now, but all at once it +appeared that it was of no use whatever to the learned and cultivated +world. + +There was a time when the Hegelian wise men triumphantly instructed the +masses; and the crowd, understanding nothing, blindly believed in every +thing, finding confirmation in the fact that it was on hand; and they +believed that what seemed to them muddy and contradictory there on the +heights of philosophy was all as clear as the day. But that time has +gone by. That theory is worn out: a new theory has presented itself in +its stead. The old one has become useless; and the crowd has looked into +the secret sanctuaries of the high priests, and has seen that there is +nothing there, and that there has been nothing there, save very obscure +and senseless words. This has taken place within my memory. + +"But this arises," people of the present science will say, "from the fact +that all that was the raving of the theological and metaphysical period; +but now there exists positive, critical science, which does not deceive, +since it is all founded on induction and experiment. Now our erections +are not shaky, as they formerly were, and only in our path lies the +solution of all the problems of humanity." + +But the old teachers said precisely the same, and they were no fools; and +we know that there were people of great intelligence among them. And +precisely thus, within my memory, and with no less confidence, with no +less recognition on the part of the crowd of so-called cultivated people, +spoke the Hegelians. And neither were our Herzens, our Stankevitches, or +our Byelinskys fools. But whence arose that marvellous manifestation, +that sensible people should preach with the greatest assurance, and that +the crowd should accept with devotion, such unfounded and unsupportable +teachings? There is but one reason,--that the teachings thus inculcated +justified people in their evil life. + +A very poor English writer, whose works are all forgotten, and recognized +as the most insignificant of the insignificant, writes a treatise on +population, in which he devises a fictitious law concerning the increase +of population disproportionate to the means of subsistence. This +fictitious law, this writer encompasses with mathematical formulae +founded on nothing whatever; and then he launches it on the world. From +the frivolity and the stupidity of this hypothesis, one would suppose +that it would not attract the attention of any one, and that it would +sink into oblivion, like all the works of the same author which followed +it; but it turned out quite otherwise. The hack-writer who penned this +treatise instantly becomes a scientific authority, and maintains himself +upon that height for nearly half a century. Malthus! The Malthusian +theory,--the law of the increase of the population in geometrical, and of +the means of subsistence in arithmetical proportion, and the wise and +natural means of restricting the population,--all these have become +scientific, indubitable truths, which have not been confirmed, but which +have been employed as axioms, for the erection of false theories. In +this manner have learned and cultivated people proceeded; and among the +herd of idle persons, there sprung up a pious trust in the great laws +expounded by Malthus. How did this come to pass? It would seem as +though they were scientific deductions, which had nothing in common with +the instincts of the masses. But this can only appear so for the man who +believes that science, like the Church, is something self-contained, +liable to no errors, and not simply the imaginings of weak and erring +folk, who merely substitute the imposing word "science," in place of the +thoughts and words of the people, for the sake of impressiveness. + +All that was necessary was to make practical deductions from the theory +of Malthus, in order to perceive that this theory was of the most human +sort, with the best defined of objects. The deductions directly arising +from this theory were the following: The wretched condition of the +laboring classes was such in accordance with an unalterable law, which +does not depend upon men; and, if any one is to blame in this matter, it +is the hungry laboring classes themselves. Why are they such fools as to +give birth to children, when they know that there will be nothing for the +children to eat? And so this deduction, which is valuable for the herd +of idle people, has had this result: that all learned men overlooked the +incorrectness, the utter arbitrariness of these deductions, and their +insusceptibility to proof; and the throng of cultivated, i.e., of idle +people, knowing instinctively to what these deductions lead, saluted this +theory with enthusiasm, conferred upon it the stamp of truth, i.e., of +science, and dragged it about with them for half a century. + +Is not this same thing the cause of the confidence of men in positive +critical-experimental science, and of the devout attitude of the crowd +towards that which it preaches? At first it seems strange, that the +theory of evolution can in any manner justify people in their evil ways; +and it seems as though the scientific theory of evolution has to deal +only with facts, and that it does nothing else but observe facts. + +But this only appears to be the case. + +Exactly the same thing appeared to be the case with the Hegelian +doctrine, in a greater degree, and also in the special instance of the +Malthusian doctrine. Hegelianism was, apparently, occupied only with its +logical constructions, and bore no relation to the life of mankind. +Precisely this seemed to be the case with the Malthusian theory. It +appeared to be busy itself only with statistical data. But this was only +in appearance. + +Contemporary science is also occupied with facts alone: it investigates +facts. But what facts? Why precisely these facts, and no others? + +The men of contemporary science are very fond of saying, triumphantly and +confidently, "We investigate only facts," imagining that these words +contain some meaning. It is impossible to investigate facts alone, +because the facts which are subject to our investigation are +_innumerable_ (in the definite sense of that word),--innumerable. Before +we proceed to investigate facts, we must have a theory on the foundation +of which these or those facts can be inquired into, i.e., selected from +the incalculable quantity. + +And this theory exists, and is even very definitely expressed, although +many of the workers in contemporary science do not know it, or often +pretend that they do not know it. Exactly thus has it always been with +all prevailing and guiding doctrines. The foundations of every doctrine +are always stated in a theory, and the so-called learned men merely +invent further deductions from the foundations once stated. Thus +contemporary science is selecting its facts on the foundation of a very +definite theory, which it sometimes knows, sometimes refuses to know, and +sometimes really does not know; but the theory exists. + +The theory is as follows: All mankind is an undying organism; men are the +particles of that organism, and each one of them has his own special task +for the service of others. In the same manner, the cells united in an +organism share among them the labor of fight for existence of the whole +organism; they magnify the power of one capacity, and weaken another, and +unite in one organ, in order the better to supply the requirements of the +whole organism. And exactly in the same manner as with gregarious +animals,--ants or bees,--the separate individuals divide the labor among +them. The queen lays the egg, the drone fructifies it; the bee works his +whole life long. And precisely this thing takes place in mankind and in +human societies. And therefore, in order to find the law of life for +man, it is necessary to study the laws of the life and the development of +organisms. + +In the life and development of organisms, we find the following laws: the +law of differentiation and integration, the law that every phenomenon is +accompanied not by direct consequences alone, another law regarding the +instability of type, and so on. All this seems very innocent; but it is +only necessary to draw the deductions from all these laws, in order to +immediately perceive that these laws incline in the same direction as the +law of Malthus. These laws all point to one thing; namely, to the +recognition of that division of labor which exists in human communities, +as organic, that is to say, as indispensable. And therefore, the unjust +position in which we, the people who have freed ourselves from labor, +find ourselves, must be regarded not from the point of view of common- +sense and justice, but merely as an undoubted fact, confirming the +universal law. + +Moral philosophy also justified every sort of cruelty and harshness; but +this resulted in a philosophical manner, and therefore wrongly. But with +science, all this results scientifically, and therefore in a manner not +to be doubted. + +How can we fail to accept so very beautiful a theory? It is merely +necessary to look upon human society as an object of contemplation; and I +can console myself with the thought that my activity, whatever may be its +nature, is a functional activity of the organism of humanity, and that +therefore there cannot arise any question as to whether it is just that +I, in employing the labor of others, am doing only that which is +agreeable to me, as there can arise no question as to the division of +labor between the brain cells and the muscular cells. How is it possible +not to admit so very beautiful a theory, in order that one may be able, +ever after, to pocket one's conscience, and have a perfectly unbridled +animal existence, feeling beneath one's self that support of science +which is not to be shaken nowadays! + +And it is on this new doctrine that the justification for men's idleness +and cruelty is now founded. + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +This doctrine had its rise not so very long--fifty years--ago. Its +principal founder was the French _savant_ Comte. There occurred to +Comte,--a systematist, and a religious man to boot,--under the influence +of the then novel physiological investigations of Biche, the old idea +already set forth by Menenius Agrippa,--the idea that human society, all +humanity even, might be regarded as one whole, as an organism; and men as +living parts of the separate organs, having each his own definite +appointment to serve the entire organism. + +This idea so pleased Comte, that upon it he began to erect a +philosophical theory; and this theory so carried him away, that he +utterly forgot that the point of departure for his theory was nothing +more than a very pretty comparison, which was suitable for a fable, but +which could by no means serve as the foundation for science. He, as +frequently happens, mistook his pet hypothesis for an axiom, and imagined +that his whole theory was erected on the very firmest of foundations. +According to his theory, it seemed that since humanity is an organism, +the knowledge of what man is, and of what should be his relations to the +world, was possible only through a knowledge of the features of this +organism. For the knowledge of these qualities, man is enabled to take +observations on other and lower organisms, and to draw conclusions from +their life. Therefore, in the fist place, the true and only method, +according to Comte, is the inductive, and all science is only such when +it has experiment as its basis; in the second place, the goal and crown +of sciences is formed by that new science dealing with the imaginary +organism of humanity, or the super-organic being,--humanity,--and this +newly devised science is sociology. + +And from this view of science it appears, that all previous knowledge was +deceitful, and that the whole story of humanity, in the sense of self- +knowledge, has been divided into three, actually into two, periods: the +theological and metaphysical period, extending from the beginning of the +world to Comte, and the present period,--that of the only true science, +positive science,--beginning with Comte. + +All this was very well. There was but one error, and that was this,--that +the whole edifice was erected on the sand, on the arbitrary and false +assertion that humanity is an organism. This assertion was arbitrary, +because we have just as much right to admit the existence of a human +organism, not subject to observation, as we have to admit the existence +of any other invisible, fantastic being. This assertion was erroneous, +because for the understanding of humanity, i.e., of men, the definition +of an organism was incorrectly constructed, while in humanity itself all +actual signs of organism,--the centre of feeling or consciousness, are +lacking. {178} + +But, in spite of the arbitrariness and incorrectness of the fundamental +assumption of positive philosophy, it was accepted by the so-called +cultivated world with the greatest sympathy. In this connection, one +thing is worthy of note: that out of the works of Comte, consisting of +two parts, of positive philosophy and of positive politics, only the +first was adopted by the learned world,--that part which justifieth, on +new promises, the existent evil of human societies; but the second part, +treating of the moral obligations of altruism, arising from the +recognition of mankind as an organism, was regarded as not only of no +importance, but as trivial and unscientific. It was a repetition of the +same thing that had happened in the case of Kant's works. The "Critique +of Pure Reason" was adopted by the scientific crowd; but the "Critique of +Applied Reason," that part which contains the gist of moral doctrine, was +repudiated. In Kant's doctrine, that was accepted as scientific which +subserved the existent evil. But the positive philosophy, which was +accepted by the crowd, was founded on an arbitrary and erroneous basis, +was in itself too unfounded, and therefore unsteady, and could not +support itself alone. And so, amid all the multitude of the idle plays +of thought of the men professing the so-called science, there presents +itself an assertion equally devoid of novelty, and equally arbitrary and +erroneous, to the effect that living beings, i.e., organisms, have had +their rise in each other,--not only one organism from another, but one +from many; i.e., that in a very long interval of time (in a million of +years, for instance), not only could a duck and a fish proceed from one +ancestor, but that one animal might result from a whole hive of bees. And +this arbitrary and erroneous assumption was accepted by the learned world +with still greater and more universal sympathy. This assumption was +arbitrary, because no one has ever seen how one organism is made from +another, and therefore the hypothesis as to the origin of species will +always remain an hypothesis, and not an experimental fact. And this +hypothesis was also erroneous, because the decision of the question as to +the origin of species--that they have originated, in consequence of the +law of heredity and fitness, in the course of an interminably long +time--is no solution at all, but merely a re-statement of the problem in +a new form. + +According to Moses' solution of the question (in the dispute with whom +the entire significance of this theory lies), it appears that the +diversity of the species of living creatures proceeded according to the +will of God, and according to His almighty power; but according to the +theory of evolution, it appears that the difference between living +creatures arose by chance, and on account of varying conditions of +heredity and surroundings, through an endless period of time. The theory +of evolution, to speak in simple language, merely asserts, that by +chance, in an incalculably long period of time, out of any thing you +like, any thing else that you like may develop. + +This is no answer to the problem. And the same problem is differently +expressed: instead of will, chance is offered, and the co-efficient of +the eternal is transposed from the power to the time. But this fresh +assertion strengthened Comte's assertion. And, moreover, according to +the ingenuous confession of the founder of Darwin's theory himself, his +idea was aroused in him by the law of Malthus; and he therefore +propounded the theory of the struggle of living creatures and people for +existence, as the fundamental law of every living thing. And lo! only +this was needed by the throng of idle people for their justification. + +Two insecure theories, incapable of sustaining themselves on their feet, +upheld each other, and acquired the semblance of stability. Both +theories bore with them that idea which is precious to the crowd, that in +the existent evil of human societies, men are not to blame, and that the +existing order of things is that which should prevail; and the new theory +was adopted by the throng with entire faith and unheard-of enthusiasm. +And behold, on the strength of these two arbitrary and erroneous +hypotheses, accepted as dogmas of belief, the new scientific doctrine was +ratified. + +Spencer, for example, in one of his first works, expresses this doctrine +thus:-- + +"Societies and organisms," he says, "are alike in the following points:-- + +"1. In that, beginning as tiny aggregates, they imperceptibly grow in +mass, so that some of them attain to the size of ten thousand times their +original bulk. + +"2. In that while they were, in the beginning, of such simple structure, +that they can be regarded as destitute of all structure, they acquire +during the period of their growth a constantly increasing complication of +structure. + +"3. In that although in their early, undeveloped period, there exists +between them hardly any interdependence of parts, their parts gradually +acquire an interdependence, which eventually becomes so strong, that the +life and activity of each part becomes possible only on condition of the +life and activity of the remaining parts. + +"4. In that life and the development of society are independent, and +more protracted than the life and development of any one of the units +constituting it, which are born, grow, act, reproduce themselves, and die +separately; while the political body formed from them, continues to live +generation after generation, developing in mass in perfection and +functional activity." + +The points of difference between organisms and society go farther; and it +is proved that these differences are merely apparent, but that organisms +and societies are absolutely similar. + +For the uninitiated man the question immediately presents itself: "What +are you talking about? Why is mankind an organism, or similar to an +organism?" + +You say that societies resemble organisms in these four features; but it +is nothing of the sort. You only take a few features of the organism, +and beneath them you range human communities. You bring forward four +features of resemblance, then you take four features of dissimilarity, +which are, however, only apparent (according to you); and you thence +conclude that human societies can be regarded as organisms. But surely, +this is an empty game of dialectics, and nothing more. On the same +foundation, under the features of an organism, you may range whatever you +please. I will take the fist thing that comes into my head. Let us +suppose it to be a forest,--the manner in which it sows itself in the +plain, and spreads abroad. 1. Beginning with a small aggregate, it +increases imperceptibly in mass, and so forth. Exactly the same thing +takes place in the fields, when they gradually seed themselves down, and +bring forth a forest. 2. In the beginning the structure is simple: +afterwards it increases in complication, and so forth. Exactly the same +thing happens with the forest,--in the first place, there were only bitch- +trees, then came brush-wood and hazel-bushes; at first all grow erect, +then they interlace their branches. 3. The interdependence of the parts +is so augmented, that the life of each part depends on the life and +activity of the remaining parts. It is precisely so with the forest,--the +hazel-bush warms the tree-boles (cut it down, and the other trees will +freeze), the hazel-bush protects from the wind, the seed-bearing trees +carry on reproduction, the tall and leafy trees afford shade, and the +life of one tree depends on the life of another. 4. The separate parts +may die, but the whole lives. Exactly the case with the forest. The +forest does not mourn one tree. + +Having proved that, in accordance with this theory, you may regard the +forest as an organism, you fancy that you have proved to the disciples of +the organic doctrine the error of their definition. Nothing of the sort. +The definition which they give to the organism is so inaccurate and so +elastic that under this definition they may include what they will. +"Yes," they say; "and the forest may also be regarded as an organism. The +forest is mutual re-action of individuals, which do not annihilate each +other,--an aggregate; its parts may also enter into a more intimate +union, as the hive of bees constitutes itself an organism." Then you +will say, "If that is so, then the birds and the insects and the grass of +this forest, which re-act upon each other, and do not destroy each other, +may also be regarded as one organism, in company with the trees." And to +this also they will agree. Every collection of living individuals, which +re-act upon each other, and do not destroy each other, may be regarded as +organisms, according to their theory. You may affirm a connection and +interaction between whatever you choose, and, according to evolution, you +may affirm, that, out of whatever you please, any other thing that you +please may proceed, in a very long period of time. + +And the most remarkable thing of all is, that this same identical +positive science recognizes the scientific method as the sign of true +knowledge, and has itself defined what it designates as the scientific +method. + +By the scientific method it means common-sense. + +And common-sense convicts it at every step. As soon as the Popes felt +that nothing holy remained in them, they called themselves most holy. + +As soon as science felt that no common-sense was left in her she called +herself sensible, that is to say, scientific science. + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Division of labor is the law of all existing things, and, therefore, it +should be present in human societies. It is very possible that this is +so; but still the question remains, Of what nature is that division of +labor which I behold in my human society? is it that division of labor +which should exist? And if people regard a certain division of labor as +unreasonable and unjust, then no science whatever can convince men that +that should exist which they regard as unreasonable and unjust. + +Division of labor is the condition of existence of organisms, and of +human societies; but what, in these human societies, is to be regarded as +an organic division of labor? And, to whatever extent science may have +investigated the division of labor in the cells of worms, all these +observations do not compel a man to acknowledge that division of labor to +be correct which his own sense and conscience do not recognize as +correct. No matter how convincing may be the proofs of the division of +labor of the cells in the organisms studied, man, if he has not parted +with his judgment, will say, nevertheless, that a man should not weave +calico all his life, and that this is not division of labor, but +persecution of the people. Spencer and others say that there is a whole +community of weavers, and that the profession of weaving is an organic +division of labor. There are weavers; so, of course, there is such a +division of labor. It would be well enough to speak thus if the colony +of weavers had arisen by the free will of its member's; but we know that +it is not thus formed of their initiative, but that we make it. Hence it +is necessary to find out whether we have made these weavers in accordance +with an organic law, or with some other. + +Men live. They support themselves by agriculture, as is natural to all +men. One man has set up a blacksmith's forge, and repaired his plough; +his neighbor comes to him, and asks him to mend his also, and promises +him in return either work or money. A third comes, and a fourth; and in +the community formed by these men, there arises the following division of +labor,--a blacksmith is created. Another man has instructed his children +well; his neighbor brings his children to him, and requests him to teach +them also, and a teacher is created. But both blacksmith and teacher +have been created, and continue to be such, merely because they have been +asked; and they remain such as long as they are requested to be +blacksmith and teacher. If it should come to pass that many blacksmiths +and teachers should set themselves up, or that their work is not +requited, they will immediately, as common-sense demands and as always +happens when there is no occasion for disturbing the regular course of +division of labor,--they will immediately abandon their trade, and betake +themselves once more to agriculture. + +Men who behave thus are guided by their sense, their conscience; and +hence we, the men endowed with sense and conscience, all assert that such +a division of labor is right. But if it should chance that the +blacksmiths were able to compel other people to work for them, and should +continue to make horse-shoes when they were not wanted, and if the +teachers should go on teaching when there was no one to teach, then it is +obvious to every sane man, as a man, i.e., as a being endowed with reason +and conscience, that this would not be division, but appropriation, of +labor. And yet precisely that sort of activity is what is called +division of labor by scientific science. People do that which others do +not think of requiring, and demand that they shall be supported for so +doing, and say that this is just because it is division of labor. + +That which constitutes the cause of the economical poverty of our age is +what the English call over-production (which means that a mass of things +are made which are of no use to anybody, and with which nothing can be +done). + +It would be odd to see a shoemaker, who should consider that people were +bound to feed him because he incessantly made boots which had been of no +use to any one for a long time; but what shall we say of those men who +make nothing,--who not only produce nothing that is visible, but nothing +that is of use for people at large,--for whose wares there are no +customers, and who yet demand, with the same boldness, on the ground of +division of labor, that they shall be supplied with fine food and drink, +and that they shall be dressed well? There may be, and there are, +sorcerers for whose services a demand makes itself felt, and for this +purpose there are brought to them pancakes and flasks; but it is +difficult to imagine the existence of sorcerers whose spells are useless +to every one, and who boldly demand that they shall be luxuriously +supported because they exercise sorcery. And it is the same in our +world. And all this comes about on the basis of that false conception of +the division of labor, which is defined not by reason and conscience, but +by observation, which men of science avow with such unanimity. + +Division of labor has, in reality, always existed, and still exists; but +it is right only when man decides with his reason and his conscience that +it should be so, and not when he merely investigates it. And reason and +conscience decide the question for all men very simply, unanimously, and +in a manner not to be doubted. They always decide it thus: that division +of labor is right only when a special branch of man's activity is so +needful to men, that they, entreating him to serve them, voluntarily +propose to support him in requital for that which he shall do for them. +But, when a man can live from infancy to the age of thirty years on the +necks of others, promising to do, when he shall have been taught, +something extremely useful, for which no one asks him; and when, from the +age of thirty until his death, he can live in the same manner, still +merely on the promise to do something, for which there has been no +request, this will not be division of labor (and, as a matter of fact, +there is no such thing in our society), but it will be what it already +is,--merely the appropriation, by force, of the toil of others; that same +appropriation by force of the toil of others which the philosophers +formerly designated by various names,--for instance, as indispensable +forms of life,--but which scientific science now calls the organic +division of labor. + +The whole significance of scientific science lies in this alone. It has +now become a distributer of diplomas for idleness; for it alone, in its +sanctuaries, selects and determines what is parasitical, and what is +organic activity, in the social organism. Just as though every man could +not find this out for himself much more accurately and more speedily, by +taking counsel of his reason and his conscience. It seems to men of +scientific science, that there can be no doubt of this, and that their +activity is also indubitably organic; they, the scientific and artistic +workers, are the brain cells, and the most precious cells in the whole +organism. + +Ever since men--reasoning beings--have existed, they have distinguished +good from evil, and have profited by the fact that men have made this +distinction before them; they have warred against evil, and have sought +the good, and have slowly but uninterruptedly advanced in that path. And +divers delusions have always stood before men, hemming in this path, and +having for their object to demonstrate to them, that it was not necessary +to do this, and that it was not necessary to live as they were living. +With fearful conflict and difficulty, men have freed themselves from many +delusions. And behold, a new and a still more evil delusion has sprung +up in the path of mankind,--the scientific delusion. + +This new delusion is precisely the same in nature as the old ones; its +gist lies in secretly leading astray the activity of our reason and +conscience, and of those who have lived before us, by something external. +In scientific science, this external thing is--investigation. + +The cunning of this science consists in this,--that, after pointing out +to men the coarsest false interpretations of the activity of the reason +and conscience of man, it destroys in them faith in their own reason and +conscience, and assures them that every thing which their reason and +conscience say to them, that all that these have said to the loftiest +representatives of man heretofore, ever since the world has existed,--that +all this is conventional and subjective. "All this must be abandoned," +they say; "it is impossible to understand the truth by the reason, for we +may be mistaken. But there exists another unerring and almost mechanical +path: it is necessary to investigate facts." + +But facts must be investigated on the foundation of scientific science, +i.e., of the two hypotheses of positivism and evolution, which are not +borne out by any thing, and which give themselves out as undoubted +truths. And the reigning science announces, with delusive solemnity, +that the solution of all problems of life is possible only through the +study of facts, of nature, and, in particular, of organisms. The +credulous mass of young people, overwhelmed by the novelty of this +authority, which has not yet been overthrown or even touched by +criticism, flings itself into the study of natural sciences, into that +sole path, which, according to the assertion of the reigning science, can +lead to the elucidation of the problems of life. + +But the farther the disciples proceed in this study, the farther and +farther does not only the possibility, but even the very idea, of the +solution of the problems of life withdraw from them, and the more and +more do they become accustomed, not so much to investigate, as to believe +in the assertions of other investigators (to believe in cells, in +protoplasm, in the fourth condition of bodies, and so forth); the more +and more does the form veil the contents from them; the more and more do +they lose the consciousness of good and evil, and the capacity of +understanding those expressions and definitions of good and evil which +have been elaborated through the whole foregoing life of mankind; and the +more and more do they appropriate to themselves the special scientific +jargon of conventional expressions, which possesses no universally human +significance; and the deeper and deeper do they plunge into the _debris_ +of utterly unilluminated investigations; the more and more do they lose +the power, not only of independent thought, but even of understanding the +fresh human thought of others, which lies beyond the bounds of their +Talmud. But the principal thing is, that they pass their best years in +getting disused to life; they grow accustomed to consider their position +as justifiable; and they convert themselves physically into utterly +useless parasites, and mentally they dislocate their brains and become +mental eunuchs. And in precisely the same manner, according to the +measure of their folly, do they acquire self-conceit, which deprives them +forever of all possibility of return to a simple life of toil, to a +simple, clear, and universally human train of reasoning. + +Division of labor always has existed in human communities, and will +probably always exist; but the question for us lies not in the fact that +it has existed, and that it will exist, but in this,--how are we to +govern ourselves so that this division shall be right? But if we take +investigation as our rule of action, we by this very act repudiate all +rule; then in that case we shall regard as right every division of labor +which we shall descry among men, and which appears to us to be right--to +which conclusion the prevailing scientific science also leads. + +Division of labor! + +Some are busied in mental or moral, others in muscular or physical, +labor. With what confidence people enunciate this! They wish to think +so, and it seems to them that, in point of fact, a perfectly regular +exchange of services does take place. + +But we, in our blindness, have so completely lost sight of the +responsibility which we have assumed, that we have even forgotten in +whose name our labor is prosecuted; and the very people whom we have +undertaken to serve have become the objects of our scientific and +artistic activity. We study and depict them for our amusement and +diversion. We have totally forgotten that what we need to do is not to +study and depict them, but to serve them. To such a degree have we lost +sight of this duty which we have taken upon us, that we have not even +noticed that what we have undertaken to perform in the realm of science +and art has been accomplished not by us, but by others, and that our +place has turned out to be occupied. + +It proves that while we have been disputing, one about the spontaneous +origin of organisms, another as to what else there is in protoplasm, and +so on, the common people have been in need of spiritual food; and the +unsuccessful and rejected of art and science, in obedience to the mandate +of adventurers who have in view the sole aim of profit, have begun to +furnish the people with this spiritual food, and still so furnish them. +For the last forty years in Europe, and for the last ten years with us +here in Russia, millions of books and pictures and song-books have been +distributed, and stalls have been opened, and the people gaze and sing +and receive spiritual nourishment, but not from us who have undertaken to +provide it; while we, justifying our idleness by that spiritual food +which we are supposed to furnish, sit by and wink at it. + +But it is impossible for us to wink at it, for our last justification is +slipping from beneath our feet. We have become specialized. We have our +particular functional activity. We are the brains of the people. They +support us, and we have undertaken to teach them. It is only under this +pretence that we have excused ourselves from work. But what have we +taught them, and what are we now teaching them? They have waited for +years--for tens, for hundreds of years. And we keep on diverting our +minds with chatter, and we instruct each other, and we console ourselves, +and we have utterly forgotten them. We have so entirely forgotten them, +that others have undertaken to instruct them, and we have not even +perceived it. We have spoken of the division of labor with such lack of +seriousness, that it is obvious that what we have said about the benefits +which we have conferred on the people was simply a shameless evasion. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Science and art have arrogated to themselves the right of idleness, and +of the enjoyment of the labor of others, and have betrayed their calling. +And their errors have arisen merely because their servants, having set +forth a falsely conceived principle of the division of labor, have +recognized their own right to make use of the labor of others, and have +lost the significance of their vocation; having taken for their aim, not +the profit of the people, but the mysterious profit of science and art, +and delivered themselves over to idleness and vice--not so much of the +senses as of the mind. + +They say, "Science and art have bestowed a great deal on mankind." + +Science and art have bestowed a great deal on mankind, not because the +men of art and science, under the pretext of a division of labor, live on +other people, but in spite of this. + +The Roman Republic was powerful, not because her citizens had the power +to live a vicious life, but because among their number there were heroic +citizens. It is the same with art and science. Art and science have +bestowed much on mankind, but not because their followers formerly +possessed on rare occasions (and now possess on every occasion) the +possibility of getting rid of labor; but because there have been men of +genius, who, without making use of these rights, have led mankind +forward. + +The class of learned men and artists, which has advanced, on the +fictitious basis of a division of labor, its demands to the right of +using the labors of others, cannot co-operate in the success of true +science and true art, because a lie cannot bring forth the truth. + +We have become so accustomed to these, our tenderly reared or weakened +representatives of mental labor, that it seems to us horrible that a man +of science or an artist should plough or cart manure. It seems to us +that every thing would go to destruction, and that all his wisdom would +be rattled out of him in the cart, and that all those grand picturesque +images which he bears about in his breast would be soiled in the manure; +but we have become so inured to this, that it does not strike us as +strange that our servitor of science--that is to say, the servant and +teacher of the truth--by making other people do for him that which he +might do for himself, passes half his time in dainty eating, in smoking, +in talking, in free and easy gossip, in reading the newspapers and +romances, and in visiting the theatres. It is not strange to us to see +our philosopher in the tavern, in the theatre, and at the ball. It is +not strange in our eyes to learn that those artists who sweeten and +ennoble our souls have passed their lives in drunkenness, cards, and +women, if not in something worse. + +Art and science are very beautiful things; but just because they are so +beautiful they should not be spoiled by the compulsory combination with +them of vice: that is to say, a man should not get rid of his obligation +to serve his own life and that of other people by his own labor. Art and +science have caused mankind to progress. Yes; but not because men of art +and science, under the guise of division of labor, have rid themselves of +the very first and most indisputable of human obligations,--to labor with +their hands in the universal struggle of mankind with nature. + +"But only the division of labor, the freedom of men of science and of art +from the necessity of earning them living, has rendered possible that +remarkable success of science which we behold in our day," is the answer +to this. "If all were forced to till the soil, those _vast_ results +would not have been attained which have been attained in our day; there +would have been none of those _striking_ successes which have so greatly +augmented man's power over nature, were it not for these astronomical +discoveries _which are so astounding to the mind of man_, and which have +added to the security of navigation; there would be no steamers, no +railways, none of those _wonderful_ bridges, tunnels, steam-engines and +telegraphs, photography, telephones, sewing-machines, phonographs, +electricity, telescopes, spectroscopes, microscopes, chloroform, Lister's +bandages, and carbolic acid." + +I will not enumerate every thing on which our age thus prides itself. +This enumeration and pride of enthusiasm over ourselves and our exploits +can be found in almost any newspaper and popular pamphlet. This +enthusiasm over ourselves is often repeated to such a degree that none of +us can sufficiently rejoice over ourselves, that we are seriously +convinced that art and science have never made such progress as in our +own time. And, as we are indebted for all this marvellous progress to +the division of labor, why not acknowledge it? + +Let us admit that the progress made in our day is noteworthy, marvellous, +unusual; let us admit that we are fortunate mortals to live in such a +remarkable epoch: but let us endeavor to appraise this progress, not on +the basis of our self-satisfaction, but of that principle which defends +itself with this progress,--the division of labor. All this progress is +very amazing; but by a peculiarly unlucky chance, admitted even by the +men of science, this progress has not so far improved, but it has rather +rendered worse, the position of the majority, that is to say, of the +workingman. + +If the workingman can travel on the railway, instead of walking, still +that same railway has burned down his forest, has carried off his grain +under his very nose, and has brought his condition very near to +slavery--to the capitalist. If, thanks to steam-engines and machines, +the workingman can purchase inferior calico at a cheap rate, on the other +hand these engines and machines have deprived him of work at home, and +have brought him into a state of abject slavery to the manufacturer. If +there are telephones and telescopes, poems, romances, theatres, ballets, +symphonies, operas, picture-galleries, and so forth, on the other hand +the life of the workingman has not been bettered by all this; for all of +them, by the same unlucky chance, are inaccessible to him. + +So that, on the whole (and even men of science admit this), up to the +present time, all these remarkable discoveries and products of science +and art have certainly not ameliorated the condition of the workingman, +if, indeed, they have not made it worse. So that, if we set against the +question as to the reality of the progress attained by the arts and +sciences, not our own rapture, but that standard upon the basis of which +the division of labor is defended,--the good of the laboring man,--we +shall see that we have no firm foundations for that self-satisfaction in +which we are so fond of indulging. + +The peasant travels on the railway, the woman buys calico, in the _isba_ +(cottage) there will be a lamp instead of a pine-knot, and the peasant +will light his pipe with a match,--this is convenient; but what right +have I to say that the railway and the factory have proved advantageous +to the people? + +If the peasant rides on the railway, and buys calico, a lamp, and +matches, it is only because it is impossible to forbid the peasant's +buying them; but surely we are all aware that the construction of +railways and factories has never been carried out for the benefit of the +lower classes: so why should a casual convenience which the workingman +enjoys lead to a proof of the utility of all these institutions for the +people? + +There is something useful in every injurious thing. After a +conflagration, one can warm one's self, and light one's pipe with a +firebrand; but why declare that the conflagration is beneficial? + +Men of art and science might say that their pursuits are beneficial to +the people, only when men of art and science have assigned to themselves +the object of serving the people, as they now assign themselves the +object of serving the authorities and the capitalists. We might say this +if men of art and science had taken as their aim the needs of the people; +but there are none such. All scientists are busy with their priestly +avocations, out of which proceed investigations into protoplasm, the +spectral analyses of stars, and so on. But science has never once +thought of what axe or what hatchet is the most profitable to chop with, +what saw is the most handy, what is the best way to mix bread, from what +flour, how to set it, how to build and heat an oven, what food and drink, +and what utensils, are the most convenient and advantageous under certain +conditions, what mushrooms may be eaten, how to propagate them, and how +to prepare them in the most suitable manner. And yet all this is the +province of science. + +I am aware, that, according to its own definition, science ought to be +useless, i.e., science for the sake of science; but surely this is an +obvious evasion. The province of science is to serve the people. We +have invented telegraphs, telephones, phonographs; but what advances have +we effected in the life, in the labor, of the people? We have reckoned +up two millions of beetles! And we have not tamed a single animal since +biblical times, when all our animals were already domesticated; but the +reindeer, the stag, the partridge, the heath-cock, all remain wild. + +Our botanists have discovered the cell, and in the cell protoplasm, and +in that protoplasm still something more, and in that atom yet another +thing. It is evident that these occupations will not end for a long time +to come, because it is obvious that there can be no end to them, and +therefore the scientist has no time to devote to those things which are +necessary to the people. And therefore, again, from the time of Egyptian +and Hebrew antiquity, when wheat and lentils had already been cultivated, +down to our own times, not a single plant has been added to the food of +the people, with the exception of the potato, and that was not obtained +by science. + +Torpedoes have been invented, and apparatus for taxation, and so forth. +But the spinning-whined, the woman's weaving-loom, the plough, the +hatchet, the chain, the rake, the bucket, the well-sweep, are exactly the +same as they were in the days of Rurik; and if there has been any change, +then that change has not been effected by scientific people. + +And it is the same with the arts. We have elevated a lot of people to +the rank of great writers; we have picked these writers to pieces, and +have written mountains of criticism, and criticism on the critics, and +criticism on the critics of the critics. And we have collected picture- +galleries, and have studied different schools of art in detail; and we +have so many symphonies and orchestras and operas, that it is becoming +difficult even for us to listen to them. But what have we added to the +popular _bylini_ [the epic songs], legends, tales, songs? What music, +what pictures, have we given to the people? + +On the Nikolskaya books are manufactured for the people, and harmonicas +in Tula; and in neither have we taken any part. The falsity of the whole +direction of our arts and sciences is more striking and more apparent in +precisely those very branches, which, it would seem, should, from their +very nature, be of use to the people, and which, in consequence of their +false attitude, seem rather injurious than useful. The technologist, the +physician, the teacher, the artist, the author, should, in virtue of +their very callings, it would seem, serve the people. And, what then? +Under the present _regime_, they can do nothing but harm to the people. + +The technologist or the mechanic has to work with capital. Without +capital he is good for nothing. All his acquirements are such that for +their display he requires capital, and the exploitation of the laboring- +man on the largest scale; and--not to mention that he is trained to live, +at the lowest, on from fifteen hundred to two thousand a year, and that, +therefore, he cannot go to the country, where no one can give him such +wages,--he is, by virtue of his very occupation, unfitted for serving the +people. He knows how to calculate the highest mathematical arch of a +bridge, how to calculate the force and transfer of the motive power, and +so on; but he is confounded by the simplest questions of a peasant: how +to improve a plough or a cart, or how to make irrigating canals. All +this in the conditions of life in which the laboring man finds himself. +Of this, he neither knows nor understands any thing,--less, indeed, than +the very stupidest peasant. Give him workshops, all sorts of workmen at +his desire, an order for a machine from abroad, and he will get along. +But how to devise means of lightening toil, under the conditions of labor +of millions of men,--this is what he does not and can not know; and +because of his knowledge, his habits, and his demands on life, he is +unfitted for this business. + +In a still worse predicament is the physician. His fancied science is +all so arranged, that he only knows how to heal those persons who do +nothing. He requires an incalculable quantity of expensive preparations, +instruments, drugs, and hygienic apparatus. + +He has studied with celebrities in the capitals, who only retain patients +who can be cured in the hospital, or who, in the course of their cure, +can purchase the appliances requisite for healing, and even go at once +from the North to the South, to some baths or other. Science is of such +a nature, that every rural physic-man laments because there are no means +of curing working-men, because he is so poor that he has not the means to +place the sick man in the proper hygienic conditions; and at the same +time this physician complains that there are no hospitals, and that he +cannot get through with his work, that he needs assistants, more doctors +and practitioners. + +What is the inference? This: that the people's principal lack, from +which diseases arise, and spread abroad, and refuse to be healed, is the +lack of means of subsistence. And here Science, under the banner of the +division of labor, summons her warriors to the aid of the people. Science +is entirely arranged for the wealthy classes, and it has adopted for its +task the healing of the people who can obtain every thing for themselves; +and it attempts to heal those who possess no superfluity, by the same +means. + +But there are no means, and therefore it is necessary to take them from +the people who are ailing, and pest-stricken, and who cannot recover for +lack of means. And now the defenders of medicine for the people say that +this matter has been, as yet, but little developed. Evidently it has +been but little developed, because if (which God forbid!) it had been +developed, and that through oppressing the people,--instead of two +doctors, midwives, and practitioners in a district, twenty would have +settled down, since they desire this, and half the people would have died +through the difficulty of supporting this medical staff, and soon there +would be no one to heal. + +Scientific co-operation with the people, of which the defenders of +science talk, must be something quite different. And this co-operation +which should exist has not yet begun. It will begin when the man of +science, technologist or physician, will not consider it legal to take +from people--I will not say a hundred thousand, but even a modest ten +thousand, or five hundred rubles for assisting them; but when he will +live among the toiling people, under the same conditions, and exactly as +they do, then he will be able to apply his knowledge to the questions of +mechanics, technics, hygiene, and the healing of the laboring people. But +now science, supporting itself at the expense of the working-people, has +entirely forgotten the conditions of life among these people, ignores (as +it puts it) these conditions, and takes very grave offence because its +fancied knowledge finds no adherents among the people. + +The domain of medicine, like the domain of technical science, still lies +untouched. All questions as to how the time of labor is best divided, +what is the best method of nourishment, with what, in what shape, and +when it is best to clothe one's self, to shoe one's self, to counteract +dampness and cold, how best to wash one's self, to feed the children, to +swaddle them, and so on, in just those conditions in which the working- +people find themselves,--all these questions have not yet been +propounded. + +The same is the case with the activity of the teachers of +science,--pedagogical teachers. Exactly in the same manner science has +so arranged this matter, that only wealthy people are able to study +science, and teachers, like technologists and physicians, cling to money. + +And this cannot be otherwise, because a school built on a model plan (as +a general rule, the more scientifically built the school, the more costly +it is), with pivot chains, and globes, and maps, and library, and petty +text-books for teachers and scholars and pedagogues, is a sort of thing +for which it would be necessary to double the taxes in every village. +This science demands. The people need money for their work; and the more +there is needed, the poorer they are. + +Defenders of science say: "Pedagogy is even now proving of advantage to +the people, but give it a chance to develop, and then it will do still +better." Yes, if it does develop, and instead of twenty schools in a +district there are a hundred, and all scientific, and if the people +support these schools, they will grow poorer than ever, and they will +more than ever need work for their children's sake. "What is to be +done?" they say to this. The government will build the schools, and will +make education obligatory, as it is in Europe; but again, surely, the +money is taken from the people just the same, and it will be harder to +work, and they will have less leisure for work, and there will be no +education even by compulsion. Again the sole salvation is this: that the +teacher should live under the conditions of the working-men, and should +teach for that compensation which they give him freely and voluntarily. + +Such is the false course of science, which deprives it of the power of +fulfilling its obligation, which is, to serve the people. + +But in nothing is this false course of science so obviously apparent, as +in the vocation of art, which, from its very significance, ought to be +accessible to the people. Science may fall back on its stupid excuse, +that science acts for science, and that when it turns out learned men it +is laboring for the people; but art, if it is art, should be accessible +to all the people, and in particular to those in whose name it is +executed. And our definition of art, in a striking manner, convicts +those who busy themselves with art, of their lack of desire, lack of +knowledge, and lack of power, to be useful to the people. + +The painter, for the production of his great works, must have a studio of +at least such dimensions that a whole association of carpenters (forty in +number) or shoemakers, now sickening or stifling in lairs, would be able +to work in it. But this is not all; he must have a model, costumes, +travels. Millions are expended on the encouragement of art, and the +products of this art are both incomprehensible and useless to the people. +Musicians, in order to express their grand ideas, must assemble two +hundred men in white neckties, or in costumes, and spend hundreds of +thousands of rubles for the equipment of an opera. And the products of +this art cannot evoke from the people--even if the latter could at any +time enjoy it--any thing except amazement and _ennui_. + +Writers--authors--it appears, do not require surroundings, studios, +models, orchestras, and actors; but it then appears that the author needs +(not to mention comfort in his quarters) all the dainties of life for the +preparation of his great works, travels, palaces, cabinets, libraries, +the pleasures of art, visits to theatres, concerts, the baths, and so on. +If he does not earn a fortune for himself, he is granted a pension, in +order that he may compose the better. And again, these compositions, so +prized by us, remain useless lumber for the people, and utterly +unserviceable to them. + +And if still more of these dealers in spiritual nourishment are developed +further, as men of science desire, and a studio is erected in every +village; if an orchestra is set up, and authors are supported in those +conditions which artistic people regard as indispensable for +themselves,--I imagine that the working-classes will sooner take an oath +never to look at any pictures, never to listen to a symphony, never to +read poetry or novels, than to feed all these persons. + +And why, apparently, should art not be of service to the people? In +every cottage there are images and pictures; every peasant man and woman +sings; many own harmonicas; and all recite stories and verses, and many +read. It is as if those two things which are made for each other--the +lock and the key--had parted company; they have sprung so far apart, that +not even the possibility of uniting them presents itself. Tell the +artist that he should paint without a studio, model, or costumes, and +that he should paint five-kopek pictures, and he will say that that is +tantamount to abandoning his art, as he understands it. Tell the +musician that he should play on the harmonica, and teach the women to +sing songs; say to the poet, to the author, that he ought to cast aside +his poems and romances, and compose song-books, tales, and stories, +comprehensible to the uneducated people,--they will say that you are mad. + +The service of the people by science and art will only be performed when +people, dwelling in the midst of the common folk, and, like the common +folk, putting forward no demands, claiming no rights, shall offer to the +common folk their scientific and artistic services; the acceptance or +rejection of which shall depend wholly on the will of the common folk. + +It is said that the activity of science and art has aided in the forward +march of mankind,--meaning by this activity, that which is now called by +that name; which is the same as saying that an unskilled banging of oars +on a vessel that is floating with the tide, which merely hinders the +progress of the vessel, is assisting the movement of the ship. It only +retards it. The so-called division of labor, which has become in our day +the condition of activity of men of science and art, was, and has +remained, the chief cause of the tardy forward movement of mankind. + +The proofs of this lie in that confession of all men of science, that the +gains of science and art are inaccessible to the laboring masses, in +consequence of the faulty distribution of riches. The irregularity of +this distribution does not decrease in proportion to the progress of +science and art, but only increases. Men of art and science assume an +air of deep pity for this unfortunate circumstance which does not depend +upon them. But this unfortunate circumstance is produced by themselves; +for this irregular distribution of wealth flows solely from the theory of +the division of labor. + +Science maintains the division of labor as a unalterable law; it sees +that the distribution of wealth, founded on the division of labor, is +wrong and ruinous; and it affirms that its activity, which recognizes the +division of labor, will lead people to bliss. The result is, that some +people make use of the labor of others; but that, if they shall make use +of the labor of others for a very long period of time, and in still +larger measure, then this wrongful distribution of wealth, i.e., the use +of the labor of others, will come to an end. + +Men stand beside a constantly swelling spring of water, and are occupied +with the problem of diverting it to one side, away from the thirsty +people, and they assert that they are producing this water, and that soon +enough will be collected for all. But this water which has flowed, and +which still flows unceasingly, and nourishes all mankind, not only is not +the result of the activity of the men who, standing at its source, turn +it aside, but this water flows and gushes out, in spite of the efforts of +these men to obstruct its flow. + +There have always existed a true science, and a true art; but true +science and art are not such because they called themselves by that name. +It always seems to those who claim at any given period to be the +representatives of science and art, that they have performed, and are +performing, and--most of all--that they will presently perform, the most +amazing marvels, and that beside them there never has been and there is +not any science or any art. Thus it seemed to the sophists, the +scholastics, the alchemists, the cabalists, the talmudists; and thus it +seems to our own scientific science, and to our art for the sake of art. + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +"But art,--science! You repudiate art and science; that is, you +repudiate that by which mankind lives!" People are constantly making +this--it is not a reply--to me, and they employ this mode of reception in +order to reject my deductions without examining into them. "He +repudiates science and art, he wants to send people back again into a +savage state; so what is the use of listening to him and of talking to +him?" But this is unjust. I not only do not repudiate art and science, +but, in the name of that which is true art and true science, I say that +which I do say; merely in order that mankind may emerge from that savage +state into which it will speedily fall, thanks to the erroneous teaching +of our time,--only for this purpose do I say that which I say. + +Art and science are as indispensable as food and drink and clothing,--more +indispensable even; but they become so, not because we decide that what +we designate as art and science are indispensable, but simply because +they really are indispensable to people. + +Surely, if hay is prepared for the bodily nourishment of men, the fact +that we are convinced that hay is the proper food for man will not make +hay the food of man. Surely I cannot say, "Why do not you eat hay, when +it is the indispensable food?" Food is indispensable, but it may happen +that that which I offer is not food at all. This same thing has occurred +with our art and science. It seems to us, that if we add to a Greek word +the word "logy," and call that a science, it will be a science; and, if +we call any abominable thing--like the dancing of nude females--by a +Greek word, choreography, that that is art, and that it will be art. But +no matter how much we may say this, the business with which we occupy +ourselves when we count beetles, and investigate the chemical +constituents of the stars in the Milky Way, when we paint nymphs and +compose novels and symphonies,--our business will not become either art +or science until such time as it is accepted by those people for whom it +is wrought. + +If it were decided that only certain people should produce food, and if +all the rest were forbidden to do this, or if they were rendered +incapable of producing food, I suppose that the quality of food would be +lowered. If the people who enjoyed the monopoly of producing food were +Russian peasants, there would be no other food than black bread and +cabbage-soup, and so on, and kvas,--nothing except what they like, and +what is agreeable to them. The same thing would happen in the case of +that loftiest human pursuit, of arts and sciences, if one caste were to +arrogate to itself a monopoly of them: but with this sole difference, +that, in the matter of bodily food, there can be no great departure from +nature, and bread and cabbage-soup, although not very savory viands, are +fit for consumption; but in spiritual food, there may exist the very +greatest departures from nature, and some people may feed themselves for +a long time on poisonous spiritual nourishment, which is directly +unsuitable for, or injurious to, them; they may slowly kill themselves +with spiritual opium or liquors, and they may offer this same food to the +masses. + +It is this very thing that is going on among us. And it has come about +because the position of men of science and art is a privileged one, +because art and science (in our day), in our world, are not at all a +rational occupation of all mankind without exception, exerting their best +powers for the service of art and science, but an occupation of a +restricted circle of people holding a monopoly of these industries, and +entitling themselves men of art and science, and who have, therefore, +perverted the very idea of art and science, and have lost all the meaning +of their vocation, and who are only concerned in amusing and rescuing +from crushing _ennui_ their tiny circle of idle mouths. + +Ever since men have existed, they have always had science and art in the +simplest and broadest sense of the term. Science, in the sense of the +whole of knowledge acquired by mankind, exists and always has existed, +and life without it is not conceivable; and there is no possibility of +either attacking or defending science, taken in this sense. + +But the point lies here,--that the scope of the knowledge of all mankind +as a whole is so multifarious, ranging from the knowledge of how to +extract iron to the knowledge of the movements of the planets, that man +loses himself in this multitude of existing knowledge,--knowledge capable +of _endless_ possibilities, if he have no guiding thread, by the aid of +which he can classify this knowledge, and arrange the branches according +to the degrees of their significance and importance. + +Before a man undertakes to learn any thing whatever, he must make up his +mind that that branch of knowledge is of weight to him, and of more +weight and importance than the countless other objects of study with +which he is surrounded. Before undertaking the study of any thing, a man +decides for what purpose he is studying this subject, and not the others. +But to study every thing, as the men of scientific science in our day +preach, without any idea of what is to come out of such study, is +downright impossible, because the number of subjects of study is +_endless_; and hence, no matter how many branches we may acquire, their +acquisition can possess no significance or reason. And, therefore, in +ancient times, down to even a very recent date, until the appearance of +scientific science, man's highest wisdom consisted in finding that +guiding thread, according to which the knowledge of men should be +classified as being of primary or of secondary importance. And this +knowledge, which forms the guide to all other branches of knowledge, men +have always called science in the strictest acceptation of the word. And +such science there has always been, even down to our own day, in all +human communities which have emerged from their primal state of savagery. + +Ever since mankind has existed, teachers have always arisen among +peoples, who have enunciated science in this restricted sense,--the +science of what it is most useful for man to know. This science has +always had for its object the knowledge of what is the true ground of the +well-being of each individual man, and of all men, and why. Such was the +science of Confucius, of Buddha, of Socrates, of Mahomet, and of others; +such is this science as they understood it, and as all men--with the +exception of our little circle of so-called cultured people--understand +it. This science has not only always occupied the highest place, but has +been the only and sole science, from which the standing of the rest has +been determined. And this was the case, not in the least because, as the +so-called scientific people of our day think, cunning priestly teachers +of this science attributed to it such significance, but because in +reality, as every one knows, both by personal experience and by +reflection, there can be no science except the science of that in which +the destiny and welfare of man consist. For the objects of science are +_incalculable_ in number,--I undermine the word "incalculable" in the +exact sense in which I understand it,--and without the knowledge of that +in which the destiny and welfare of all men consist, there is no +possibility of making a choice amid this interminable multitude of +subjects; and therefore, without this knowledge, all other arts and +branches of learning will become, as they have become among us, an idle +and hurtful diversion. + +Mankind has existed and existed, and never has it existed without the +science of that in which the destiny and the welfare of men consist. It +is true that the science of the welfare of men appears different on +superficial observation, among the Buddhists, the Brahmins, the Hebrews, +the Confucians, the Tauists; but nevertheless, wherever we hear of men +who have emerged from a state of savagery, we find this science. And all +of a sudden it appears that the men of our day have decided that this +same science, which has hitherto served as the guiding thread of all +human knowledge, is the very thing which hinders every thing. Men erect +buildings; and one architect has made one estimate of cost, a second has +made another, and a third yet another. The estimates differ somewhat; +but they are correct, so that any one can see, that, if the whole is +carried out in accordance with the calculations, the building will be +erected. Along come people, and assert that the chief point lies in +having no estimates, and that it should be built thus--by the eye. And +this "thus," men call the most accurate of scientific science. Men +repudiate every science, the very substance of science,--the definition +of the destiny and the welfare of men,--and this repudiation they +designate as science. + +Ever since men have existed, great minds have been born into their midst, +which, in the conflict with reason and conscience, have put to themselves +questions as to "what constitutes welfare,--the destiny and welfare, not +of myself alone, but of every man?" What does that power which has +created and which leads me, demand of me and of every man? And what is +it necessary for me to do, in order to comply with the requirements +imposed upon me by the demands of individual and universal welfare? They +have asked themselves: "I am a whole, and also a part of something +infinite, eternal; what, then, are my relations to other parts similar to +myself, to men and to the whole--to the world?" + +And from the voices of conscience and of reason, and from a comparison of +what their contemporaries and men who had lived before them, and who had +propounded to themselves the same questions, had said, these great +teachers have deduced their doctrines, which were simple, clear, +intelligible to all men, and always such as were susceptible of +fulfilment. Such men have existed of the first, second, third, and +lowest ranks. The world is full of such men. Every living man propounds +the question to himself, how to reconcile the demands of welfare, and of +his personal existence, with conscience and reason; and from this +universal labor, slowly but uninterruptedly, new forms of life, which are +more in accord with the requirements of reason and of conscience, are +worked out. + +All at once, a new caste of people makes its appearance, and they say, +"All this is nonsense; all this must be abandoned." This is the +deductive method of ratiocination (wherein lies the difference between +the deductive and the inductive method, no one can understand); these are +the dogmas of the technological and metaphysical period. Every thing +that these men discover by inward experience, and which they communicate +to one another, concerning their knowledge of the law of their existence +(of their functional activity, according to their own jargon), every +thing that the grandest minds of mankind have accomplished in this +direction, since the beginning of the world,--all this is nonsense, and +has no weight whatever. According to this new doctrine, it appears that +you are cells: and that you, as a cell, have a very definite functional +activity, which you not only fulfil, but which you infallibly feel within +you; and that you are a thinking, talking, understanding cell, and that +you, for this reason, can ask another similar talking cell whether it is +just the same, and in this way verify your own experience; that you can +take advantage of the fact that speaking cells, which have lived before +you, have written on the same subject, and that you have millions of +cells which confirm your observations by their agreement with the cells +which have written down their thoughts,--all this signifies nothing; all +this is an evil and an erroneous method. + +The true scientific method is this: If you wish to know in what the +destiny and the welfare of all mankind and of all the world consists, you +must, first of all, cease to listen to the voices of your conscience and +of your reason, which present themselves in you and in others like you; +you must cease to believe all that the great teachers of mankind have +said with regard to your conscience and reason, and you must consider all +this as nonsense, and begin all over again. And, in order to understand +every thing from the beginning, you must look through microscopes at the +movements of amoebae, and cells in worms, or, with still greater +composure, believe in every thing that men with a diploma of +infallibility shall say to you about them. And as you gaze at the +movements of these cells, or read about what others have seen, you must +attribute to these cells your own human sensations and calculations as to +what they desire, whither they are directing themselves, how they compare +and discuss, and to what they have become accustomed; and from these +observations (in which there is not a word about an error of thought or +of expression) you must deduce a conclusion by analogy as to what you +are, what is your destiny, wherein lies the welfare of yourself and of +other cells like you. In order to understand yourself, you must study +not only the worms which you see, but microscopic creatures which you can +barely see, and transformations from one set of creatures into others, +which no one has ever beheld, and which you, most assuredly, will never +behold. And the same with art. Where there has been true science, art +has always been its exponent. + +Ever since men have been in existence, they have been in the habit of +deducing, from all pursuits, the expressions of various branches of +learning concerning the destiny and the welfare of man, and the +expression of this knowledge has been art in the strict sense of the +word. + +Ever since men have existed, there have been those who were peculiarly +sensitive and responsive to the doctrine regarding the destiny and +welfare of man; who have given expression to their own and the popular +conflict, to the delusions which lead them astray from their destinies, +their sufferings in this conflict, their hopes in the triumph of good, +them despair over the triumph of evil, and their raptures in the +consciousness of the approaching bliss of man, on viol and tabret, in +images and words. Always, down to the most recent times, art has served +science and life,--only then was it what has been so highly esteemed of +men. But art, in its capacity of an important human activity, +disappeared simultaneously with the substitution for the genuine science +of destiny and welfare, of the science of any thing you choose to fancy. +Art has existed among all peoples, and will exist until that which among +us is scornfully called religion has come to be considered the only +science. + +In our European world, so long as there existed a Church, as the doctrine +of destiny and welfare, and so long as the Church was regarded as the +only true science, art served the Church, and remained true art: but as +soon as art abandoned the Church, and began to serve science, while +science served whatever came to hand, art lost its significance. And +notwithstanding the rights claimed on the score of ancient memories, and +of the clumsy assertion which only proves its loss of its calling, that +art serves art, it has become a trade, providing men with something +agreeable; and as such, it inevitably comes into the category of +choreographic, culinary, hair-dressing, and cosmetic arts, whose +practitioners designate themselves as artists, with the same right as the +poets, printers, and musicians of our day. + +Glance backward into the past, and you will see that in the course of +thousands of years, out of milliards of people, only half a score of +Confucius', Buddhas, Solomons, Socrates, Solons, and Homers have been +produced. Evidently, they are rarely met with among men, in spite of the +fact that these men have not been selected from a single caste, but from +mankind at large. Evidently, these true teachers and artists and learned +men, the purveyors of spiritual nourishment, are rare. And it is not +without reason that mankind has valued and still values them so highly. + +But it now appears, that all these great factors in the science and art +of the past are no longer of use to us. Nowadays, scientific and +artistic authorities can, in accordance with the law of division of +labor, be turned out by factory methods; and, in one decade, more great +men have been manufactured in art and science, than have ever been born +of such among all nations, since the foundation of the world. Nowadays +there is a guild of learned men and artists, and they prepare, by +perfected methods, all that spiritual food which man requires. And they +have prepared so much of it, that it is no longer necessary to refer to +the elder authorities, who have preceded them,--not only to the ancients, +but to those much nearer to us. All that was the activity of the +theological and metaphysical period,--all that must be wiped out: but the +true, the rational activity began, say, fifty years ago, and in the +course of those fifty years we have made so many great men, that there +are about ten great men to every branch of science. And there have come +to be so many sciences, that, fortunately, it is easy to make them. All +that is required is to add the Greek word "logy" to the name, and force +them to conform to a set rubric, and the science is all complete. They +have created so many sciences, that not only can no one man know them +all, but not a single individual can remember all the titles of all the +existing sciences; the titles alone form a thick lexicon, and new +sciences are manufactured every day. They have been manufactured on the +pattern of that Finnish teacher who taught the landed proprietor's +children Finnish instead of French. Every thing has been excellently +inculcated; but there is one objection,--that no one except ourselves can +understand any thing of it, and all this is reckoned as utterly useless +nonsense. However, there is an explanation even for this. People do not +appreciate the full value of scientific science, because they are under +the influence of the theological period, that profound period when all +the people, both among the Hebrews, and the Chinese, and the Indians, and +the Greeks, understood every thing that their great teachers said to +them. + +But, from whatever cause this has come about, the fact remains, that +sciences and arts have always existed among mankind, and, when they +really did exist, they were useful and intelligible to all the people. +But we practise something which we call science and art, but it appears +that what we do is unnecessary and unintelligible to man. And hence, +however beautiful may be the things that we accomplish, we have no right +to call them arts and sciences. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +"But you only furnish a different definition of arts and sciences, which +is stricter, and is incompatible with science," I shall be told in answer +to this; "nevertheless, scientific and artistic activity does still +exist. There are the Galileos, Brunos, Homers, Michael Angelos, +Beethovens, and all the lesser learned men and artists, who have +consecrated their entire lives to the service of science and art, and who +were, and will remain, the benefactors of mankind." + +Generally this is what people say, striving to forget that new principle +of the division of labor, on the basis of which science and art now +occupy their privileged position, and on whose basis we are now enabled +to decide without grounds, but by a given standard: Is there, or is there +not, any foundation for that activity which calls itself science and art, +to so magnify itself? + +When the Egyptian or the Grecian priests produced their mysteries, which +were unintelligible to any one, and stated concerning these mysteries +that all science and all art were contained in them, I could not verify +the reality of their science on the basis of the benefit procured by them +to the people, because science, according to their assertions, was +supernatural. But now we all possess a very simple and clear definition +of the activity of art and science, which excludes every thing +supernatural: science and art promise to carry out the mental activity of +mankind, for the welfare of society, or of all the human race. + +The definition of scientific science and art is entirely correct; but, +unfortunately, the activity of the present arts and sciences does not +come under this head. Some of them are directly injurious, others are +useless, others still are worthless,--good only for the wealthy. They do +not fulfil that which, by their own definition, they have undertaken to +accomplish; and hence they have as little right to regard themselves as +men of art and science, as a corrupt priesthood, which does not fulfil +the obligations which it has assumed, has the right to regard itself as +the bearer of divine truth. + +And it can be understood why the makers of the present arts and sciences +have not fulfilled, and cannot fulfil, their vocation. They do not +fulfil it, because out of their obligations they have erected a right. + +Scientific and artistic activity, in its real sense, is only fruitful +when it knows no rights, but recognizes only obligations. Only because +it is its property to be always thus, does mankind so highly prize this +activity. If men really were called to the service of others through +artistic work, they would see in that work only obligation, and they +would fulfil it with toil, with privations, and with self-abnegation. + +The thinker or the artist will never sit calmly on Olympian heights, as +we have become accustomed to represent them to ourselves. The thinker or +the artist should suffer in company with the people, in order that he may +find salvation or consolation. Besides this, he will suffer because he +is always and eternally in turmoil and agitation: he might decide and say +that that which would confer welfare on men, would free them from +suffering, would afford them consolation; but he has not said so, and has +not presented it as he should have done; he has not decided, and he has +not spoken; and to-morrow, possibly, it will be too late,--he will die. +And therefore suffering and self-sacrifice will always be the lot of the +thinker and the artist. + +Not of this description will be the thinker and artist who is reared in +an establishment where, apparently, they manufacture the learned man or +the artist (but in point of fact, they manufacture destroyers of science +and of art), who receives a diploma and a certificate, who would be glad +not to think and not to express that which is imposed on his soul, but +who cannot avoid doing that to which two irresistible forces draw him,--an +inward prompting, and the demand of men. + +There will be no sleek, plump, self-satisfied thinkers and artists. +Spiritual activity, and its expression, which are actually necessary to +others, are the most burdensome of all man's avocations; a cross, as the +Gospels phrase it. And the sole indubitable sign of the presence of a +vocation is self-devotion, the sacrifice of self for the manifestation of +the power that is imposed upon man for the benefit of others. + +It is possible to study out how many beetles there are in the world, to +view the spots on the sun, to write romances and operas, without +suffering; but it is impossible, without self-sacrifice, to instruct +people in their true happiness, which consists solely in renunciation of +self and the service of others, and to give strong expression to this +doctrine, without self-sacrifice. + +Christ did not die on the cross in vain; not in vain does the sacrifice +of suffering conquer all things. + +But our art and science are provided with certificates and diplomas; and +the only anxiety of all men is, how to still better guarantee them, i.e., +how to render the service of the people impracticable for them. + +True art and true science possess two unmistakable marks: the first, an +inward mark, which is this, that the servitor of art and science will +fulfil his vocation, not for profit but with self-sacrifice; and the +second, an external sign,--his productions will be intelligible to all +the people whose welfare he has in view. + +No matter what people have fixed upon as their vocation and their +welfare, science will be the doctrine of this vocation and welfare, and +art will be the expression of that doctrine. That which is called +science and art, among us, is the product of idle minds and feelings, +which have for their object to tickle similar idle minds and feelings. +Our arts and sciences are incomprehensible, and say nothing to the +people, for they have not the welfare of the common people in view. + +Ever since the life of men has been known to us, we find, always and +everywhere, the reigning doctrine falsely designating itself as science, +not manifesting itself to the common people, but obscuring for them the +meaning of life. Thus it was among the Greeks the sophists, then among +the Christians the mystics, gnostics, scholastics, among the Hebrews the +Talmudists and Cabalists, and so on everywhere, down to our own times. + +How fortunate it is for us that we live in so peculiar an age, when that +mental activity which calls itself science, not only does not err, but +finds itself, as we are assured, in a remarkably flourishing condition! +Does not this peculiar good fortune arise from the fact that man can not +and will not see his own hideousness? Why is there nothing left of those +sciences, and sophists, and Cabalists, and Talmudists, but words, while +we are so exceptionally happy? Surely the signs are identical. There is +the same self-satisfaction and blind confidence that we, precisely we, +and only we, are on the right path, and that the real thing is only +beginning with us. There is the same expectation that we shall discover +something remarkable; and that chief sign which leads us astray convicts +us of our error: all our wisdom remains with us, and the common people do +not understand, and do not accept, and do not need it. + +Our position is a very difficult one, but why not look at it squarely? + +It is time to recover our senses, and to scrutinize ourselves. Surely we +are nothing else than the scribes and Pharisees, who sit in Moses' seat, +and who have taken the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and will neither go +in ourselves, nor permit others to go in. Surely we, the high priests of +science and art, are ourselves worthless deceivers, possessing much less +right to our position than the most crafty and depraved priests. Surely +we have no justification for our privileged position. The priests had a +right to their position: they declared that they taught the people life +and salvation. But we have taken their place, and we do not instruct the +people in life,--we even admit that such instruction is unnecessary,--but +we educate our children in the same Talmudic-Greek and Latin grammar, in +order that they may be able to pursue the same life of parasites which we +lead ourselves. We say, "There used to be castes, but there are none +among us." But what does it mean, that some people and their children +toil, while other people and their children do not toil? + +Bring hither an Indian ignorant of our language, and show him European +life, and our life, for several generations, and he will recognize the +same leading, well-defined castes--of laborers and non-laborers--as there +are in his own country. And as in his land, so in ours, the right of +refusing to labor is conferred by a peculiar consecration, which we call +science and art, or, in general terms, culture. It is this culture, and +all the distortions of sense connected with it, which have brought us to +that marvellous madness, in consequence of which we do not see that which +is so clear and indubitable. + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Then, what is to be done? What are we to do? + +This question, which includes within itself both an admission that our +life is evil and wrong, and in connection with this,--as though it were +an exercise for it,--that it is impossible, nevertheless, to change it, +this question I have heard, and I continue to hear, on all sides. I have +described my own sufferings, my own gropings, and my own solution of this +question. I am the same kind of a man as everybody else; and if I am in +any wise distinguished from the average man of our circle, it is chiefly +in this respect, that I, more than the average man, have served and +winked at the false doctrine of our world; I have received more +approbation from men professing the prevailing doctrine: and therefore, +more than others, have I become depraved, and wandered from the path. And +therefore I think that the solution of the problem, which I have found in +my own case, will be applicable to all sincere people who are propounding +the same question to themselves. + +First of all, in answer to the question, "What is to be done?" I told +myself: "I must lie neither to other people nor to myself. I must not +fear the truth, whithersoever it may lead me." + +We all know what it means to lie to other people, but we are not afraid +to lie to ourselves; yet the very worst downright lie, to other people, +is not to be compared in its consequences with the lie to ourselves, upon +which we base our whole life. + +This is the lie of which we must not be guilty if we are to be in a +position to answer the question: "What is to be done?" And, in fact, how +am I to answer the question, "What is to be done?" when every thing that +I do, when my whole life, is founded on a lie, and when I carefully +parade this lie as the truth before others and before myself? Not to +lie, in this sense, means not to fear the truth, not to devise +subterfuges, and not to accept the subterfuges devised by others for the +purpose of hiding from myself the deductions of my reason and my +conscience; not to fear to part company with all those who surround me, +and to remain alone in company with reason and conscience; not to fear +that position to which the truth shall lead me, being firmly convinced +that that position to which truth and conscience shall conduct me, +however singular it may be, cannot be worse than the one which is founded +on a lie. Not to lie, in our position of privileged persons of mental +labor, means, not to be afraid to reckon one's self up wrongly. It is +possible that you are already so deeply indebted that you cannot take +stock of yourself; but to whatever extent this may be the case, however +long may be the account, however far you have strayed from the path, it +is still better than to continue therein. A lie to other people is not +alone unprofitable; every matter is settled more directly and more +speedily by the truth than by a lie. A lie to others only entangles +matters, and delays the settlement; but a lie to one's self, set forth as +the truth, ruins a man's whole life. If a man, having entered on the +wrong path, assumes that it is the true one, then every step that he +takes on that path removes him farther from his goal. If a man who has +long been travelling on this false path divines for himself, or is +informed by some one, that his course is a mistaken one, but grows +alarmed at the idea that he has wandered very far astray and tries to +convince himself that he may, possibly, still strike into the right road, +then he never will get into it. If a man quails before the truth, and, +on perceiving it, does not accept it, but does accept a lie for the +truth, then he never will learn what he ought to do. We, the not only +wealthy, but privileged and so-called cultivated persons, have advanced +so far on the wrong road, that a great deal of determination, or a very +great deal of suffering on the wrong road, is required, in order to bring +us to our senses and to the acknowledgment of the lie in which we are +living. I have perceived the lie of our lives, thanks to the sufferings +which the false path entailed upon me, and, having recognized the +falseness of this path on which I stood, I have had the boldness to go at +first in thought only--whither reason and conscience led me, without +reflecting where they would bring me out. And I have been rewarded for +this boldness. + +All the complicated, broken, tangled, and incoherent phenomena of life +surrounding me, have suddenly become clear; and my position in the midst +of these phenomena, which was formerly strange and burdensome, has +become, all at once, natural, and easy to bear. + +In this new position, my activity was defined with perfect accuracy; not +at all as it had previously presented itself to me, but as a new and much +more peaceful, loving, and joyous activity. The very thing which had +formerly terrified me, now began to attract me. Hence I think, that the +man who will honestly put to himself the question, "What is to be done?" +and, replying to this query, will not lie to himself, but will go whither +his reason leads, has already solved the problem. + +There is only one thing that can hinder him in his search for an +issue,--an erroneously lofty idea of himself and of his position. This +was the case with me; and then another, arising from the first answer to +the question: "What is to be done?" consisted for me in this, that it was +necessary for me to repent, in the full sense of that word,--i.e., to +entirely alter my conception of my position and my activity; to confess +the hurtfulness and emptiness of my activity, instead of its utility and +gravity; to confess my own ignorance instead of culture; to confess my +immorality and harshness in the place of my kindness and morality; +instead of my elevation, to acknowledge my lowliness. I say, that in +addition to not lying to myself, I had to repent, because, although the +one flows from the other, a false conception of my lofty importance had +so grown up with me, that, until I sincerely repented and cut myself free +from that false estimate which I had formed of myself, I did not perceive +the greater part of the lie of which I had been guilty to myself. Only +when I had repented, that is to say, when I had ceased to look upon +myself as a regular man, and had begun to regard myself as a man exactly +like every one else,--only then did my path become clear before me. +Before that time I had not been able to answer the question: "What is to +be done?" because I had stated the question itself wrongly. + +As long as I did not repent, I put the question thus: "What sphere of +activity should I choose, I, the man who has received the education and +the talents which have fallen to my shame? How, in this fashion, make +recompense with that education and those talents, for what I have taken, +and for what I still take, from the people?" This question was wrong, +because it contained a false representation, to the effect that I was not +a man just like them, but a peculiar man called to serve the people with +those talents and with that education which I had won by the efforts of +forty years. + +I propounded the query to myself; but, in reality, I had answered it in +advance, in that I had in advance defined the sort of activity which was +agreeable to me, and by which I was called upon to serve the people. I +had, in fact, asked myself: "In what manner could I, so very fine a +writer, who had acquired so much learning and talents, make use of them +for the benefit of the people?" + +But the question should have been put as it would have stood for a +learned rabbi who had gone through the course of the Talmud, and had +learned by heart the number of letters in all the holy books, and all the +fine points of his art. The question for me, as for the rabbi, should +stand thus: "What am I, who have spent, owing to the misfortune of my +surroundings, the year's best fitted for study in the acquisition of +grammar, geography, judicial science, poetry, novels and romances, the +French language, pianoforte playing, philosophical theories, and military +exercises, instead of inuring myself to labor; what am I, who have passed +the best years of my life in idle occupations which are corrupting to the +soul,--what am I to do in defiance of these unfortunate conditions of the +past, in order that I may requite those people who during the whole time +have fed and clothed, yes, and who even now continue to feed and clothe +me?" Had the question then stood as it stands before me now, after I +have repented,--"What am I, so corrupt a man, to do?" the answer would +have been easy: "To strive, first of all, to support myself honestly; +that is, to learn not to live upon others; and while I am learning, and +when I have learned this, to render aid on all possible occasions to the +people, with my hands, and my feet, and my brain, and my heart, and with +every thing to which the people should present a claim." + +And therefore I say, that for the man of our circle, in addition to not +lying to himself or to others, repentance is also necessary, and that he +should scrape from himself that pride which has sprung up in us, in our +culture, in our refinements, in our talents; and that he should confess +that he is not a benefactor of the people and a distinguished man, who +does not refuse to share with the people his useful acquirements, but +that he should confess himself to be a thoroughly guilty, corrupt, and +good-for-nothing man, who desires to reform himself and not to behave +benevolently towards the people, but simply to cease wounding and +insulting them. + +I often hear the questions of good young men who sympathize with the +renunciatory part of my writings, and who ask, "Well, and what then shall +I do? What am I to do, now that I have finished my course in the +university, or in some other institution, in order that I may be of use?" +Young men ask this, and in the depths of their soul it is already decided +that the education which they have received constitutes their privilege +and that they desire to serve the people precisely by means of thus +superiority. And hence, one thing which they will in no wise do, is to +bear themselves honestly and critically towards that which they call +their culture, and ask themselves, are those qualities which they call +their culture good or bad? If they will do this, they will infallibly be +led to see the necessity of renouncing their culture, and the necessity +of beginning to learn all over again; and this is the one indispensable +thing. They can in no wise solve the problem, "What to do?" because this +question does not stand before them as it should stand. The question +must stand thus: "In what manner am I, a helpless, useless man, who, +owing to the misfortune of my conditions, have wasted my best years of +study in conning the scientific Talmud which corrupts soul and body, to +correct this mistake, and learn to serve the people?" But it presents +itself to them thus: "How am I, a man who has acquired so much very fine +learning, to turn this very fine learning to the use of the people?" And +such a man will never answer the question, "What is to be done?" until he +repents. And repentance is not terrible, just as truth is not terrible, +and it is equally joyful and fruitful. It is only necessary to accept +the truth wholly, and to repent wholly, in order to understand that no +one possesses any rights, privileges, or peculiarities in the matter of +this life of ours, but that there are no ends or bounds to obligation, +and that a man's first and most indubitable duty is to take part in the +struggle with nature for his own life and for the lives of others. + +And this confession of a man's obligation constitutes the gist of the +third answer to the question, "What is to be done?" + +I tried not to lie to myself: I tried to cast out from myself the remains +of my false conceptions of the importance of my education and talents, +and to repent; but on the way to a decision of the question, "What to +do?" a fresh difficulty arose. There are so many different occupations, +that an indication was necessary as to the precise one which was to be +adopted. And the answer to this question was furnished me by sincere +repentance for the evil in which I had lived. + +"What to do? Precisely what to do?" all ask, and that is what I also +asked so long as, under the influence of my exalted idea of any own +importance, I did not perceive that my first and unquestionable duty was +to feed myself, to clothe myself, to furnish my own fuel, to do my own +building, and, by so doing, to serve others, because, ever since the +would has existed, the first and indubitable duty of every man has +consisted and does consist in this. + +In fact, no matter what a man may have assumed to be his +vocation,--whether it be to govern people, to defend his +fellow-countrymen, to divine service, to instruct others, to invent means +to heighten the pleasures of life, to discover the laws of the world, to +incorporate eternal truths in artistic representations,--the duty of a +reasonable man is to take part in the struggle with nature, for the +sustenance of his own life and of that of others. This obligation is the +first of all, because what people need most of all is their life; and +therefore, in order to defend and instruct the people, and render their +lives more agreeable, it is requisite to preserve that life itself, while +my refusal to share in the struggle, my monopoly of the labors of others, +is equivalent to annihilation of the lives of others. And, therefore, it +is not rational to serve the lives of men by annihilating the lives of +men; and it is impossible to say that I am serving men, when, by my life, +I am obviously injuring them. + +A man's obligation to struggle with nature for the acquisition of the +means of livelihood will always be the first and most unquestionable of +all obligations, because this obligation is a law of life, departure from +which entails the inevitable punishment of either bodily or mental +annihilation of the life of man. If a man living alone excuses himself +from the obligation of struggling with nature, he is immediately +punished, in that his body perishes. But if a man excuses himself from +this obligation by making other people fulfil it for him, then also he is +immediately punished by the annihilation of his mental life; that is to +say, of the life which possesses rational thought. + +In this one act, man receives--if the two things are to be separated--full +satisfaction of the bodily and spiritual demands of his nature. The +feeding, clothing, and taking care of himself and his family, constitute +the satisfaction of the bodily demands and requirements; and doing the +same for other people, constitutes the satisfaction of his spiritual +requirements. Every other employment of man is only legal when it is +directed to the satisfaction of this very first duty of man; for the +fulfilment of this duty constitutes the whole life of man. + +I had been so turned about by my previous life, this first and +indubitable law of God or of nature is so concealed in our sphere of +society, that the fulfilment of this law seemed to me strange, terrible, +even shameful; as though the fulfilment of an eternal, unquestionable +law, and not the departure from it, can be terrible, strange, and +shameful. + +At first it seemed to me that the fulfilment of this matter required some +preparation, arrangement or community of men, holding similar views,--the +consent of one's family, life in the country; it seemed to me disgraceful +to make a show of myself before people, to undertake a thing so improper +in our conditions of existence, as bodily toil, and I did not know how to +set about it. But it was only necessary for me to understand that this +is no exclusive occupation which requires to be invented and arranged +for, but that this employment was merely a return from the false position +in which I found myself, to a natural one; was only a rectification of +that lie in which I was living. I had only to recognize this fact, and +all these difficulties vanished. It was not in the least necessary to +make preparations and arrangements, and to await the consent of others, +for, no matter in what position I had found myself, there had always been +people who had fed, clothed and warmed me, in addition to themselves; and +everywhere, under all conditions, I could do the same for myself and for +them, if I had the time and the strength. Neither could I experience +false shame in an unwonted occupation, no matter how surprising it might +be to people, because, through not doing it, I had already experienced +not false but real shame. + +And when I had reached this confession and the practical deduction from +it, I was fully rewarded for not having quailed before the deductions of +reason, and for following whither they led me. On arriving at this +practical deduction, I was amazed at the ease and simplicity with which +all the problems which had previously seemed to me so difficult and so +complicated, were solved. + +To the question, "What is it necessary to do?" the most indubitable +answer presented itself: first of all, that which it was necessary for me +to do was, to attend to my own samovar, my own stove, my own water, my +own clothing; to every thing that I could do for myself. To the +question, "Will it not seem strange to people if you do this?" it +appeared that this strangeness lasted only a week, and after the lapse of +that week, it would have seemed strange had I returned to my former +conditions of life. With regard to the question, "Is it necessary to +organize this physical labor, to institute an association in the country, +on my land?" it appeared that nothing of the sort was necessary; that +labor, if it does not aim at the acquisition of all possible leisure, and +the enjoyment of the labor of others,--like the labor of people bent on +accumulating money,--but if it have for its object the satisfaction of +requirements, will itself be drawn from the city to the country, to the +land, where this labor is the most fruitful and cheerful. But it is not +requisite to institute any association, because the man who labors, +naturally and of himself, attaches himself to the existing association of +laboring men. + +To the question, whether this labor would not monopolize all my time, and +deprive me of those intellectual pursuits which I love, to which I am +accustomed, and which, in my moments of self-conceit, I regard as not +useless to others? I received a most unexpected reply. The energy of my +intellectual activity increased, and increased in exact proportion with +bodily application, while freeing itself from every thing superfluous. It +appeared that by dedicating to physical toil eight hours, that half of +the day which I had formerly passed in the oppressive state of a struggle +with _ennui_, eight hours remained to me, of which only five of +intellectual activity, according to my terms, were necessary to me. For +it appeared, that if I, a very voluminous writer, who had done nothing +for nearly forty years except write, and who had written three hundred +printed sheets;--if I had worked during all those forty years at ordinary +labor with the working-people, then, not reckoning winter evenings and +leisure days, if I had read and studied for five hours every day, and had +written a couple of pages only on holidays (and I have been in the habit +of writing at the rate of one printed sheet a day), then I should have +written those three hundred sheets in fourteen years. The fact seemed +startling: yet it is the most simple arithmetical calculation, which can +be made by a seven-year-old boy, but which I had not been able to make up +to this time. There are twenty-four hours in the day; if we take away +eight hours, sixteen remain. If any man engaged in intellectual +occupations devote five hours every day to his occupation, he will +accomplish a fearful amount. And what is to be done with the remaining +eleven hours? + +It proved that physical labor not only does not exclude the possibility +of mental activity, but that it improves its quality, and encourages it. + +In answer to the question, whether this physical toil does not deprive me +of many innocent pleasures peculiar to man, such as the enjoyment of the +arts, the acquisition of learning, intercourse with people, and the +delights of life in general, it turned out exactly the reverse: the more +intense the labor, the more nearly it approached what is considered the +coarsest agricultural toil, the more enjoyment and knowledge did I gain, +and the more did I come into close and loving communion with men, and the +more happiness did I derive from life. + +In answer to the question (which I have so often heard from persons not +thoroughly sincere), as to what result could flow from so insignificant a +drop in the sea of sympathy as my individual physical labor in the sea of +labor ingulfing me, I received also the most satisfactory and unexpected +of answers. It appeared that all I had to do was to make physical labor +the habitual condition of my life, and the majority of my false, but +precious, habits and my demands, when physically idle, fell away from me +at once of their own accord, without the slightest exertion on my part. +Not to mention the habit of turning day into night and _vice versa_, my +habits connected with my bed, with my clothing, with conventional +cleanliness,--which are downright impossible and oppressive with physical +labor,--and my demands as to the quality of my food, were entirely +changed. In place of the dainty, rich, refined, complicated, +highly-spiced food, to which I had formerly inclined, the most simple +viands became needful and most pleasing of all to me,--cabbage-soup, +porridge, black bread, and tea _v prikusku_. {238} So that, not to +mention the influence upon me of the example of the simple +working-people, who are content with little, with whom I came in contact +in the course of my bodily toil, my very requirements underwent a change +in consequence of my toilsome life; so that my drop of physical labor in +the sea of universal labor became larger and larger, in proportion as I +accustomed myself to, and appropriated, the habits of the laboring +classes; in proportion, also, to the success of my labor, my demands for +labor from others grew less and less, and my life naturally, without +exertion or privations, approached that simple existence of which I could +not even dream without fulfilling the law of labor. + +It proved that my dearest demands from life, namely, my demands for +vanity, and diversion from _ennui_, arose directly from my idle life. +There was no place for vanity, in connection with physical labor; and no +diversions were needed, since my time was pleasantly occupied, and, after +my fatigue, simple rest at tea over a book, or in conversation with my +fellows, was incomparably more agreeable than theatres, cards, conceits, +or a large company,--all which things are needed in physical idleness, +and which cost a great deal. + +In answer to the question, Would not this unaccustomed toil ruin that +health which is indispensable in order to render service to the people +possible? it appeared, in spite of the positive assertions of noted +physicians, that physical exertion, especially at my age, might have the +most injurious consequences (but that Swedish gymnastics, the massage +treatment, and so on, and other expedients intended to take the place of +the natural conditions of man's life, were better), that the more intense +the toil, the stronger, more alert, more cheerful, and more kindly did I +feel. Thus it undoubtedly appeared, that, just as all those cunning +devices of the human mind, newspapers, theatres, concerts, visits, balls, +cards, journals, romances, are nothing else than expedients for +maintaining the spiritual life of man outside his natural conditions of +labor for others,--just so all the hygienic and medical devices of the +human mind for the preparation of food, drink, lodging, ventilation, +heating, clothing, medicine, water, massage, gymnastics, electric, and +other means of healing,--all these clever devices are merely an expedient +to sustain the bodily life of man removed from its natural conditions of +labor. It turned out that all these devices of the human mind for the +agreeable arrangement of the physical existence of idle persons are +precisely analogous to those artful contrivances which people might +invent for the production in vessels hermetically sealed, by means of +mechanical arrangements, of evaporation, and plants, of the air best +fitted for breathing, when all that is needed is to open the window. All +the inventions of medicine and hygiene for persons of our sphere are much +the same as though a mechanic should hit upon the idea of heating a steam- +boiler which was not working, and should shut all the valves so that the +boiler should not burst. Only one thing is needed, instead of all these +extremely complicated devices for pleasure, for comfort, and for medical +and hygienic preparations, intended to save people from their spiritual +and bodily ailments, which swallow up so much labor,--to fulfil the law +of life; to do that which is proper not only to man, but to the animal; +to fire off the charge of energy taken win in the shape of food, by +muscular exertion; to speak in plain language, to earn one's bread. Those +who do not work should not eat, or they should earn as much as they have +eaten. + +And when I clearly comprehended all this, it struck me as ridiculous. +Through a whole series of doubts and searchings, I had arrived, by a long +course of thought, at this remarkable truth: if a man has eyes, it is +that he may see with them; if he has ears, that he may hear; and feet, +that he may walk; and hands and back, that he may labor; and that if a +man will not employ those members for that purpose for which they are +intended, it will be the worse for him. + +I came to this conclusion, that, with us privileged people, the same +thing has happened which happened with the horses of a friend of mine. +His steward, who was not a lover of horses, nor well versed in them, on +receiving his master's orders to place the best horses in the stable, +selected them from the stud, placed them in stalls, and fed and watered +them; but fearing for the valuable steeds, he could not bring himself to +trust them to any one, and he neither rode nor drove them, nor did he +even take them out. The horses stood there until they were good for +nothing. The same thing has happened with us, but with this difference: +that it was impossible to deceive the horses in any way, and they were +kept in bonds to prevent their getting out; but we are kept in an +unnatural position that is equally injurious to us, by deceits which have +entangled us, and which hold us like chains. + +We have arranged for ourselves a life that is repugnant both to the moral +and the physical nature of man, and all the powers of our intelligence we +concentrate upon assuring man that this is the most natural life +possible. Every thing which we call culture,--our sciences, art, and the +perfection of the pleasant thing's of life,--all these are attempts to +deceive the moral requirements of man; every thing that is called hygiene +and medicine, is an attempt to deceive the natural physical demands of +human nature. But these deceits have their bounds, and we advance to +them. "If such be the real human life, then it is better not to live at +all," says the reigning and extremely fashionable philosophy of +Schopenhauer and Hartmann. If such is life, 'tis better for the coming +generation not to live," say corrupt medical science and its newly +devised means to that end. + +In the Bible, it is laid down as the law of man: "In the sweat of thy +face shalt thou eat bread, and in sorrow thou shalt bring forth +children;" but "_nous avons change tout ca_," as Moliere's character +says, when expressing himself with regard to medicine, and asserting that +the liver was on the left side. We have changed all that. Men need not +work in order to eat, and women need not bear children. + +A ragged peasant roams the Krapivensky district. During the war he was +an agent for the purchase of grain, under an official of the commissary +department. On being brought in contact with the official, and seeing +his luxurious life, the peasant lost his mind, and thought that he might +get along without work, like gentlemen, and receive proper support from +the Emperor. This peasant now calls himself "the Most Serene Warrior, +Prince Blokhin, purveyor of war supplies of all descriptions." He says +of himself that he has "passed through all the ranks," and that when he +shall have served out his term in the army, he is to receive from the +Emperor an unlimited bank account, clothes, uniforms, horses, equipages, +tea, pease and servants, and all sorts of luxuries. This man is +ridiculous in the eyes of many, but to me the significance of his madness +is terrible. To the question, whether he does not wish to work, he +always replies proudly: "I am much obliged. The peasants will attend to +all that." When you tell him that the peasants do not wish to work, +either, he answers: "It is not difficult for the peasant." + +He generally talks in a high-flown style, and is fond of verbal +substantives. "Now there is an invention of machinery for the +alleviation of the peasants," he says; "there is no difficulty for them +in that." When he is asked what he lives for, he replies, "To pass the +time." I always look on this man as on a mirror. I behold in him myself +and all my class. To pass through all the ranks (_tchini_) in order to +live for the purpose of passing the time, and to receive an unlimited +bank account, while the peasants, for whom this is not difficult, because +of the invention of machinery, do the whole business,--this is the +complete formula of the idiotic creed of the people of our sphere in +society. + +When we inquire precisely what we are to do, surely, we ask nothing, but +merely assert--only not in such good faith as the Most Serene Prince +Blokhin, who has been promoted through all ranks, and lost his mind--that +we do not wish to do any thing. + +He who will reflect for a moment cannot ask thus, because, on the one +hand, every thing that he uses has been made, and is made, by the hands +of men; and, on the other side, as soon as a healthy man has awakened and +eaten, the necessity of working with feet and hands and brain makes +itself felt. In order to find work and to work, he need only not hold +back: only a person who thinks work disgraceful--like the lady who +requests her guest not to take the trouble to open the door, but to wait +until she can call a man for this purpose--can put to himself the +question, what he is to do. + +The point does not lie in inventing work,--you can never get through all +the work that is to be done for yourself and for others,--but the point +lies in weaning one's self from that criminal view of life in accordance +with which I eat and sleep for my own pleasure; and in appropriating to +myself that just and simple view with which the laboring man grows up and +lives,--that man is, first of all, a machine, which loads itself with +food in order to sustain itself, and that it is therefore disgraceful, +wrong, and impossible to eat and not to work; that to eat and not to work +is the most impious, unnatural, and, therefore, dangerous position, in +the nature of the sin of Sodom. Only let this acknowledgement be made, +and there will be work; and work will always be joyous and satisfying to +both spiritual and bodily requirements. + +The matter presented itself to me thus: The day is divided for every man, +by food itself, into four parts, or four stints, as the peasants call it: +(1) before breakfast; (2) from breakfast until dinner; (3) from dinner +until four o'clock; (4) from four o'clock until evening. + +A man's employment, whatever it may be that he feels a need for in his +own person, is also divided into four categories: (1) the muscular +employment of power, labor of the hands, feet, shoulders, back,--hard +labor, from which you sweat; (2) the employment of the fingers and +wrists, the employment of artisan skill; (3) the employment of the mind +and imagination; (4) the employment of intercourse with others. + +The benefits which man enjoys are also divided into four categories. +Every man enjoys, in the first place, the product of hard labor,--grain, +cattle, buildings, wells, ponds, and so forth; in the second place, the +results of artisan toil,--clothes, boots, utensils, and so forth; in the +third place, the products of mental activity,--science, art; and, in the +forth place, established intercourse between people. + +And it struck me, that the best thing of all would be to arrange the +occupations of the day in such a manner as to exercise all four of man's +capacities, and myself produce all these four sorts of benefits which men +make use of, so that one portion of the day, the first, should be +dedicated to hard labor; the second, to intellectual labor; the third, to +artisan labor; and the forth, to intercourse with people. It struck me, +that only then would that false division of labor, which exists in our +society, be abrogated, and that just division of labor established, which +does not destroy man's happiness. + +I, for example, have busied myself all my life with intellectual labor. I +said to myself, that I had so divided labor, that writing, that is to +say, intellectual labor, is my special employment, and the other matters +which were necessary to me I had left free (or relegated, rather) to +others. But this, which would appear to have been the most advantageous +arrangement for intellectual toil, was precisely the most disadvantageous +to mental labor, not to mention its injustice. + +All my life long, I have regulated my whole life, food, sleep, diversion, +in view of these hours of special labor, and I have done nothing except +this work. The result of this has been, in the first place, that I have +contracted my sphere of observations and knowledge, and have frequently +had no means for the study even of problems which often presented +themselves in describing the life of the people (for the life of the +common people is the every-day problem of intellectual activity). I was +conscious of my ignorance, and was obliged to obtain instruction, to ask +about things which are known by every man not engaged in special labor. +In the second place, the result was, that I had been in the habit of +sitting down to write when I had no inward impulse to write, and when no +one demanded from me writing, as writing, that is to say, my thoughts, +but when my name was merely wanted for journalistic speculation. I tried +to squeeze out of myself what I could. Sometimes I could extract +nothing; sometimes it was very wretched stuff, and I was dissatisfied and +grieved. But now that I have learned the indispensability of physical +labor, both hard and artisan labor, the result is entirely different. My +time has been occupied, however modestly, at least usefully and +cheerfully, and in a manner instructive to me. And therefore I have torn +myself from that indubitably useful and cheerful occupation for my +special duties only when I felt an inward impulse, and when I saw a +demand made upon me directly for my literary work. + +And these demands called into play only good nature, and therefore the +usefulness and the joy of my special labor. Thus it turned out, that +employment in those physical labors which are indispensable to me, as +they are to every man, not only did not interfere with my special +activity, but was an indispensable condition of the usefulness, worth, +and cheerfulness of that activity. + +The bird is so constructed, that it is indispensable that it should fly, +walk, peek, combine; and when it does all this, it is satisfied and +happy,--then it is a bird. Just so man, when he walks, turns, raises, +drags, works with his fingers, with his eyes, with his ears, with his +tongue, with his brain,--only then is he satisfied, only then is he a +man. + +A man who acknowledges his appointment to labor will naturally strive +towards that rotation of labor which is peculiar to him, for the +satisfaction of his inward requirements; and he can alter this labor in +no other way than when he feels within himself an irresistible summons to +some exclusive form of labor, and when the demands of other men for that +labor are expressed. + +The character of labor is such, that the satisfaction of all a man's +requirements demands that same succession of the sorts of work which +renders work not a burden but a joy. Only a false creed, [Greek text +which cannot be reproduced], to the effect that labor is a curse, could +have led men to rid themselves of certain kinds of work; i.e., to the +appropriation of the work of others, demanding the forced occupation with +special labor of other people, which they call division of labor. + +We have only grown used to our false comprehension of the regulation of +labor, because it seems to us that the shoemaker, the machinist, the +writer, or the musician will be better off if he gets rid of the labor +peculiar to man. Where there is no force exercised over the labor of +others, or any false belief in the joy of idleness, not a single man will +get rid of physical labor, necessary for the satisfaction of his +requirements, for the sake of special work; because special work is not a +privilege, but a sacrifice which man offers to inward pressure and to his +brethren. + +The shoemaker in the country, who abandons his wonted labor in the field, +which is so grateful to him, and betakes himself to his trade, in order +to repair or make boots for his neighbors, always deprives himself of the +pleasant toil of the field, simply because he likes to make boots, +because he knows that no one else can do it so well as he, and that +people will be grateful to him for it; but the desire cannot occur to +him, to deprive himself, for the whole period of his life, of the +cheering rotation of labor. + +It is the same with the _starosta_ [village elder], the machinist, the +writer, the learned man. To us, with our corrupt conception of things, +it seems, that if a steward has been relegated to the position of a +peasant by his master, or if a minister has been sent to the colonies, he +has been chastised, he has been ill-treated. But in reality a benefit +has been conferred on him; that is to say, his special, hard labor has +been changed into a cheerful rotation of labor. In a naturally +constituted society, this is quite otherwise. I know of one community +where the people supported themselves. One of the members of this +society was better educated than the rest; and they called upon him to +read, so that he was obliged to prepare himself during the day, in order +that he might read in the evening. This he did gladly, feeling that he +was useful to others, and that he was performing a good deed. But he +grew weary of exclusively intellectual work, and his health suffered from +it. The members of the community took pity on him, and requested him to +go to work in the fields. + +For men who regard labor as the substance and the joy of life, the basis, +the foundation of life will always be the struggle with nature,--labor +both agricultural and mechanical, and intellectual, and the establishment +of communion between men. Departure from one or from many of these +varieties of labor, and the adoption of special labor, will then only +occur when the man possessed of a special branch, and loving this work, +and knowing that he can perform it better than others, sacrifices his own +profit for the satisfaction of the direct demands made upon him. Only on +condition of such a view of labor, and of the natural division of labor +arising from it, is that curse which is laid upon our idea of labor +abrogated, and does every sort of work becomes always a joy; because a +man will either perform that labor which is undoubtedly useful and +joyous, and not dull, or he will possess the consciousness of +self-abnegation in the fulfilment of more difficult and restricted toil, +which he exercises for the good of others. + +But the division of labor is more profitable. More profitable for whom? +It is more profitable in making the greatest possible quantity of calico, +and boots in the shortest possible time. But who will make these boots +and this calico? There are people who, for whole generations, make only +the heads of pins. Then how can this be more profitable for men? If the +point lies in manufacturing as much calico and as many pins as possible, +then this is so. But the point concerns men and their welfare. And the +welfare of men lies in life. And life is work. How, then, can the +necessity for burdensome, oppressive toil be more profitable for people? +For all men, that one thing is more profitable which I desire for +myself,--the utmost well-being, and the gratification of all those +requirements, both bodily and spiritual, of the conscience and of the +reason, which are imposed upon me. And in my own case I have found, that +for my own welfare, and for the satisfaction of these needs of mine, all +that I require is to cure myself of that folly in which I had been +living, in company with the Krapivensky madman, and which consisted in +presupposing that some people need not work, and that certain other +people should direct all this, and that I should therefore do only that +which is natural to man, i.e., labor for the satisfaction of their +requirements; and, having discovered this, I convinced myself that labor +for the satisfaction of one's own needs falls of itself into various +kinds of labor, each one of which possesses its own charm, and which not +only do not constitute a burden, but which serve as a respite to one +another. I have made a rough division of this labor (not insisting on +the justice of this arrangement), in accordance with my own needs in +life, into four parts, corresponding to the four stints of labor of which +the day is composed; and I seek in this manner to satisfy my +requirements. + +These, then, are the answers which I have found for myself to the +question, "What is to be done?" + +_First_, Not to lie to myself, however far removed my path in life may be +from the true path which my reason discloses to me. + +_Second_, To renounce my consciousness of my own righteousness, my +superiority especially over other people; and to acknowledge my guilt. + +_Third_, To comply with that eternal and indubitable law of humanity,--the +labor of my whole being, feeling no shame at any sort of work; to contend +with nature for the maintenance of my own life and the lives of others. + + + + +ON LABOR AND LUXURY. + + +I concluded, after having said every thing that concerned myself; but I +cannot refrain, from a desire to say something more which concerns +everybody, from verifying the deductions which I have drawn, by +comparisons. I wish to say why it seems to me that a very large number +of our social class ought to come to the same thing to which I have come; +and also to state what will be the result if a number of people should +come to the same conclusion. + +I think that many will come to the point which I have attained: because +if the people of our sphere, of our caste, will only take a serious look +at themselves, then young persons, who are in search of personnel +happiness, will stand aghast at the ever-increasing wretchedness of their +life, which is plainly leading them to destruction; conscientious people +will be shocked at the cruelty and the illegality of their life; and +timid people will be terrified by the danger of their mode of life. + +_The Wretchedness of our Life_:--However much we rich people may reform, +however much we may bolster up this delusive life of ours with the aid of +our science and art, this life will become, with every year, both weaker +and more diseased; with every year the number of suicides, and the +refusals to bear children, will increase; with every year we shall feel +the growing sadness of our life; with every generation, the new +generations of people of this sphere of society will become more puny. + +It is obvious that in this path of the augmentation of the comforts and +the pleasures of life, in the path of every sort of cure, and of +artificial preparations for the improvements of the sight, the hearing, +the appetite, false teeth, false hair, respiration, massage, and so on, +there can be no salvation. That people who do not make use of these +perfected preparations are stronger and healthier, has become such a +truism, that advertisements are printed in the newspapers of +stomach-powders for the wealthy, under the heading, "Blessings for the +poor," {252} in which it is stated that only the poor are possessed of +proper digestive powers, and that the rich require assistance, and, among +other various sorts of assistance, these powders. It is impossible to +set the matter right by any diversions, comforts, and powders, whatever; +only a change of life can rectify it. + +_The Inconsistency of our Life with our Conscience_:--however we may seek +to justify our betrayal of humanity to ourselves, all our justifications +will crumble into dust in the presence of the evidence. All around us, +people are dying of excessive labor and of privation; we ruin the labor +of others, the food and clothing which are indispensable to them, merely +with the object of procuring diversion and variety for our wearisome +lives. And, therefore, the conscience of a man of our circle, if even a +spark of it be left in him, cannot be lulled to sleep, and it poisons all +these comforts and those pleasures of life which our brethren, suffering +and perishing in their toil, procure for us. But not only does every +conscientious man feel this himself,--he would be glad to forget it, but +this he cannot do. + +The new, ephemeral justifications of science for science, of art for art, +do not exclude the light of a simple, healthy judgment. The conscience +of man cannot be quieted by fresh devices; and it can only be calmed by a +change of life, for which and in which no justification will be required. + +Two causes prove to the people of the wealthy classes the necessity for a +change of life: the requirements of their individual welfare, and of the +welfare of those most nearly connected with them, which cannot be +satisfied in the path in which they now stand; and the necessity of +satisfying the voice of conscience, the impossibility of accomplishing +which is obvious in their present course. These causes, taken together, +should lead people of the wealthy classes to alter their mode of life, to +such a change as shall satisfy their well-being and their conscience. + +And there is only one such change possible: they must cease to deceive, +they must repent, they must acknowledge that labor is not a curse, but +the glad business of life. "But what will be the result if I do toil for +ten, or eight, or five hours at physical work, which thousands of +peasants will gladly perform for the money which I possess?" people say +to this. + +The first, simplest, and indubitable result will be, that you will become +a more cheerful, a healthier, a more alert, and a better man, and that +you will learn to know the real life, from which you have hidden +yourself, or which has been hidden from you. + +The second result will be, that, if you possess a conscience, it will not +only cease to suffer as it now suffers when it gazes upon the toil of +others, the significance of which we, through ignorance, either always +exaggerate or depreciate, but you will constantly experience a glad +consciousness that, with every day, you are doing more and more to +satisfy the demands of your conscience, and you will escape from that +fearful position of such an accumulation of evil heaped upon your life +that there exists no possibility of doing good to people; you will +experience the joy of living in freedom, with the possibility of good; +you will break a window,--an opening into the domain of the moral world +which has been closed to you. + +"But this is absurd," people usually say to you, for people of our +sphere, with profound problems standing before us,--problems +philosophical, scientific, artistic, ecclesiastical and social. It would +be absurd for us ministers, senators, academicians professors, artists, a +quarter of an hour of whose time is so prized by people, to waste our +time on any thing of that sort, would it not?--on the cleaning of our +boots, the washing of our shirts, in hoeing, in planting potatoes, or in +feeding our chickens and our cows, and so on; in those things which are +gladly done for us, not only by our porter or our cook, but by thousands +of people who value our time? + +But why should we dress ourselves, wash and comb our hair? why should we +hand chairs to ladies, to guests? why should we open and shut doors, hand +ladies, into carriages, and do a hundred other things which serfs +formerly did for us? Because we think that it is necessary so to do; +that human dignity demands it; that it is the duty, the obligation, of +man. + +And the same is the case with physical labor. The dignity of man, his +sacred duty and obligation, consists in using the hands and feet which +have been given to him, for that for which they were given to him, and +that which consumes food on the labor which produces that food; and that +they should be used, not on that which shall cause them to pine away, not +as objects to wash and clean, and merely for the purpose of stuffing into +one's mouth food, drink, and cigarettes. This is the significance that +physical labor possesses for man in every community; but in our +community, where the avoidance of this law of labor has occasioned the +unhappiness of a whole class of people, employment in physical labor +acquires still another significance,--the significance of a sermon, and +of an occupation which removes a terrible misfortune that is threatening +mankind. + +To say that physical labor is an insignificant occupation for a man of +education, is equivalent to saying, in connection with the erection of a +temple: "What does it matter whether one stone is laid accurately in its +place?" Surely, it is precisely under conditions of modesty, simplicity, +and imperceptibleness, that every magnificent thing is accomplished; it +is impossible to plough, to build, to pasture cattle, or even to think, +amid glare, thunder, and illumination. Grand and genuine deeds are +always simple and modest. And such is the grandest of all deeds which we +have to deal with,--the reconciliation of those fearful contradictions +amid which we are living. And the deeds which will reconcile these +contradictions are those modest, imperceptible, apparently ridiculous +ones, the serving one's self, physical labor for one's self, and, if +possible, for others also, which we rich people must do, if we understand +the wretchedness, the unscrupulousness, and the danger of the position +into which we have drifted. + +What will be the result if I, or some other man, or a handful of men, do +not despise physical labor, but regard it as indispensable to our +happiness and to the appeasement of our conscience? This will be the +result, that there will be one man, two men, or a handful of men, who, +coming into conflict with no one, without governmental or revolutionary +violence, will decide for ourselves the terrible question which stands +before all the world, and which sets people at variance, and that we +shall settle it in such wise that life will be better to them, that their +conscience will be more at peace, and that they will have nothing to +fear; the result will be, that other people will see that the happiness +which they are seeking everywhere, lies there around them; that the +apparently unreconcilable contradictions of conscience and of the +constitution of this world will be reconciled in the easiest and most +joyful manner; and that, instead of fearing the people who surround us, +it will become necessary for us to draw near to them and to love them. + +The apparently insoluble economical and social problem is merely the +problem of Kriloff's casket. {256} The casket will simply open. And it +will not open, so long as people do not do simply that first and simple +thing--open it. + +A man sets up what he imagines to be his own peculiar library, his own +private picture-gallery, his own apartments and clothing, he accumulates +his own money in order therewith to purchase every thing that he needs; +and the end of it all is, that engaged with this fancied property of his, +as though it were real, he utterly loses his sense of that which actually +constitutes his property, on which he can really labor, which can really +serve him, and which will always remain in his power, and of that which +is not and cannot be his own property, whatever he may call it, and which +cannot serve as the object of his occupation. + +Words always possess a clear significance until we deliberately attribute +to them a false sense. + +What does property signify? + +Property signifies that which has been given to me, which belongs to me +exclusively; that with which I can always do any thing I like; that which +no one can take away from me; that which will remain mine to the end of +my life, and precisely that which I am bound to use, increase, and +improve. Now, there exists but one such piece of property for any +man,--himself. + +Hence it results that half a score of men may till the soil, hew wood, +and make shoes, not from necessity, but in consequence of an +acknowledgment of the fact that man should work, and that the more he +works the better it will be for him. It results, that half a score of +men,--or even one man, may demonstrate to people, both by his confession +and by his actions, that the terrible evil from which they are suffering +is not a law of fate, the will of God, or any historical necessity; but +that it is merely a superstition, which is not in the least powerful or +terrible, but weak and insignificant, in which we must simply cease to +believe, as in idols, in order to rid ourselves of it, and in order to +rend it like a paltry spider's web. Men who will labor to fulfil the +glad law of their existence, that is to say, those who work in order to +fulfil the law of toil, will rid themselves of that frightful +superstition of property for themselves. + +If the life of a man is filled with toil, and if he knows the delights of +rest, he requires no chambers, furniture, and rich and varied clothing; +he requires less costly food; he needs no means of locomotion, or of +diversion. But the principal thing is, that the man who regards labor as +the business and the joy of his life will not seek that relief from his +labor which the labors of others might afford him. The man who regards +life as a matter of labor will propose to himself as his object, in +proportion as he acquires understanding, skill, and endurance, greater +and greater toil, which shall constantly fill his life to a greater and +greater degree. For such a man, who sees the meaning of his life in work +itself, and not in its results, for the acquisition of property, there +can be no question as to the implements of labor. Although such a man +will always select the most suitable implements, that man will receive +the same satisfaction from work and rest, when he employs the most +unsuitable implements. If there be a steam-plough, he will use it; if +there is none, he will till the soil with a horse-plough, and, if there +is none, with a primitive curved bit of wood shod with iron, or he will +use a rake; and, under all conditions, he will equally attain his object. +He will pass his life in work that is useful to men, and he will +therefore win complete satisfaction. + +And the position of such a man, both in his external and internal +conditions, will be more happy than that of the man who devotes his life +to the acquisition of property. Such a man will never suffer need in his +outward circumstances, because people, perceiving his desire to work, +will always try to provide him with the most productive work, as they +proportion a mill to the water-power. And they will render his material +existence free from care, which they will not do for people who are +striving to acquire property. And freedom from anxiety in his material +conditions is all that a man needs. Such a man will always be happier in +his internal conditions, than the one who seeks wealth, because the first +will never gain that which he is striving for, while the latter always +will, in proportion to his powers. The feeble, the aged, the dying, +according to the proverb, "With the written absolution in his hands," +will receive full satisfaction, and the love and sympathy of men. + +What, then, will be the outcome of a few eccentric individuals, or +madmen, tilling the soil, making shoes, and so on, instead of smoking +cigarettes, playing whist, and roaming about everywhere to relieve their +tedium, during the space of the ten leisure hours a day which every +intellectual worker enjoys? This will be the outcome: that these madmen +will show in action, that that imaginary property for which men suffer, +and for which they torment themselves and others, is not necessary for +happiness; that it is oppressive, and that it is mere superstition; that +property, true property, consists only in one's own head and hands; and +that, in order to actually exploit this real property with profit and +pleasure, it is necessary to reject the false conception of property +outside one's own body, upon which we expend the best efforts of our +lives. The outcome us, that these men will show, that only when a man +ceases to believe in imaginary property, only when he brings into play +his real property, his capacities, his body, so that they will yield him +fruit a hundred-fold, and happiness of which we have no idea,--only then +will he be so strong, useful, and good a man, that, wherever you may +fling him, he will always land on his feet; that he will everywhere and +always be a brother to everybody; that he will be intelligible to +everybody, and necessary, and good. And men looking on one, on ten such +madmen, will understand what they must all do in order to loose that +terrible knot in which the superstition regarding property has entangled +them, in order to free themselves from the unfortunate position in which +they are all now groaning with one voice, not knowing whence to find an +issue from it. + +But what can one man do amid a throng which does not agree with him? +There is no argument which could more clearly demonstrate the terror of +those who make use of it than this. The _burlaki_ {260} drag their bark +against the current. There cannot be found a _burlak_ so stupid that he +will refuse to pull away at his towing-rope because he alone is not able +to drag the bark against the current. He who, in addition to his rights +to an animal life, to eat and sleep, recognizes any sort of human +obligation, knows very well in what that human obligation lies, just as +the boatman knows it when the tow-rope is attached to him. The boatman +knows very well that all he has to do is to pull at the rope, and proceed +in the given direction. He will seek what he is to do, and how he is to +do it, only when the tow-rope is removed from him. And as it is with +these boatmen and with all people who perform ordinary work, so it is +with the affairs of all humanity. All that each man needs is not to +remove the tow-rope, but to pull away on it in the direction which his +master orders. And, for this purpose, one sort of reason is bestowed on +all men, in order that the direction may be always the same. And this +direction has obviously been so plainly indicated, that both in the life +of all the people about us, and in the conscience of each individual man, +only he who does not wish to work can say that he does not see it. Then, +what is the outcome of this? + +This: that one, perhaps two men, will pull; a third will look on, and +will join them; and in this manner the best people will unite until the +affair begins to start, and make progress, as though itself inspiring and +bidding thereto even those who do not understand what is being done, and +why it is being done. First, to the contingent of men who are +consciously laboring in order to comply with the law of God, there will +be added the people who only half understand and who only half confess +the faith; then a still greater number of people who admit the same +doctrine will join them, merely on the faith of the originators; and +finally the majority of mankind will recognize this, and then it will +come to pass, that men will cease to ruin themselves, and will find +happiness. + +This will happen,--and it will be very speedily,--when people of our set, +and after them a vast majority, shall cease to think it disgraceful to +pay visits in untanned boots, and not disgraceful to walk in overshoes +past people who have no shoes at all; that it is disgraceful not to +understand French, and not disgraceful to eat bread and not to know how +to set it; that it is disgraceful not to have a starched shirt and clean +clothes, and not disgraceful to go about in clean garments thereby +showing one's idleness; that it is disgraceful to have dirty hands, and +not disgraceful not to have hands with callouses. + +All this will come to pass when the sense of the community shall demand +it. But the sense of the community will demand this when those delusions +in the imagination of men, which have concealed the truth from them, +shall have been abolished. Within my own recollection, great changes +have taken place in this respect. And these changes have taken place +only because the general opinion has undergone an alteration. Within my +memory, it has come to pass, that whereas it used to be disgraceful for +wealthy people not to drive out with four horses and two footmen, and not +to keep a valet or a maid to dress them, wash them, put on their shoes, +and so forth; it has now suddenly become discreditable for one not to put +on one's own clothes and shoes for one's self, and to drive with footmen. +Public opinion has effected all these changes. Are not the changes which +public opinion is now preparing clear? + +All that was necessary five and twenty years ago was to abolish the +delusion which justified the right of serfdom, and public opinion as to +what was praiseworthy and what was discreditable changed, and life +changed also. All that is now requisite is to annihilate the delusion +which justifies the power of money over men, and public opinion will +undergo a change as to what is creditable and what is disgraceful, and +life will be changed also; and the annihilation of the delusion, of the +justification of the moneyed power, and the change in public opinion in +this respect, will be promptly accomplished. This delusion is already +flickering, and the truth will very shortly be disclosed. All that is +required is to gaze steadfastly, in order to perceive clearly that change +in public opinion which has already taken place, and which is simply not +recognized, not fitted with a word. The educated man of our day has but +to reflect ever so little on what will be the outcome of those views of +the world which he professes, in order to convince himself that the +estimate of good and bad, by which, by virtue of his inertia, he is +guided in life, directly contradict his views of the world. + +All that the man of our century has to do is to break away for a moment +from the life which runs on by force of inertia, to survey it from the +one side, and subject it to that same standard which arises from his +whole view of the world, in order to be horrified at the definition of +his whole life, which follows from his views of the world. Let us take, +for instance, a young man (the energy of life is greater in the young, +and self-consciousness is more obscured). Let us take, for instance, a +young man belonging to the wealthy classes, whatever his tendencies may +chance to be. + +Every good young man considers it disgraceful not to help an old man, a +child, or a woman; he thinks, in a general way, that it is a shame to +subject the life or health of another person to danger, or to shun it +himself. Every one considers that shameful and brutal which Schuyler +relates of the Kirghiz in times of tempest,--to send out the women and +the aged females to hold fast the corners of the _kibitka_ [tent] during +the storm, while they themselves continue to sit within the tent, over +their _kumis_ [fermented mare's-milk]. Every one thinks it shameful to +make a week man work for one; that it is still more disgraceful in time +of danger--on a burning ship, for example,--being strong, to be the first +to seat one's self in the lifeboat,--to thrust aside the weak and leave +them in danger, and so on. + +All men regard this as disgraceful, and would not do it upon any account, +in certain exceptional circumstances; but in every-day life, the very +same actions, and others still worse, are concealed from them by +delusions, and they perpetrate them incessantly. The establishment of +this new view of life is the business of public opinion. Public opinion, +supporting such a view, will speedily be formed. + +Women form public opinion, and women are especially powerful in our day. + + + + +TO WOMEN. + + +As stated in the Bible, a law was given to the man and the woman,--to the +man, the law of labor; to the woman, the law of bearing children. +Although we, with our science, _avons change tout ca_, the law for the +man, as for woman, remains as unalterable as the liver in its place, and +departure from it is equally punished with inevitable death. The only +difference lies in this, that departure from the law, in the case of the +man, is punished so immediately in the future, that it may be designated +as present punishment; but departure from the law, in the case of the +woman, receives its chastisement in a more distant future. + +The general departure of all men from the law exterminates people +immediately; the departure from it of all women annihilates it in the +succeeding generation. But the evasion by some men and some women does +not exterminate the human race, and only deprives those who evade it of +the rational nature of man. The departure of men from this law began long +ago, among those classes who were in a position to subject others, and, +constantly spreading, it has continued down to our own times; and in our +own day it has reached folly, the ideal consisting in evasion of the +law,--the ideal expressed by Prince Blokhin, and shared in by Renan and +by the whole cultivated world: "Machines will work, and people will be +bundles of nerves devoted to enjoyment." + +There was hardly any departure from the law in the part of women, it was +expressed only in prostitution, and in the refusal to bear children--in +private cases. The women belonging to the wealthy classes fulfilled +their law, while the men did not comply with theirs; and therefore the +women became stronger, and continued to rule, and must rule, over men who +have evaded the law, and who have, therefore, lost their senses. It is +generally stated that woman (the woman of Paris in particular is +childless) has become so bewitching, through making use of all the means +of civilization, that she has gained the upper hand over man by this +fascination of hers. This is not only unjust, but precisely the reverse +of the truth. It is not the childless woman who has conquered man, but +the mother, that woman who has fulfilled her law, while the man has not +fulfilled his. That woman who deliberately remains childless, and who +entrances man with her shoulders and her locks, is not the woman who +rules over men, but the one who has been corrupted by man, who has +descended to his level,--to the level of the vicious man,--who has evaded +the law equally with himself, and who has lost, in company with him, +every rational idea of life. + +From this error springs that remarkable piece of stupidity which is +called the rights of women. The formula of these rights of women is as +follows: "Here! you man," says the woman, "you have departed from your +law of real labor, and you want us to bear the burden of our real labor. +No, if this is to be so, we understand, as well as you do, how to perform +those semblances of labor which you exercise in banks, ministries, +universities, and academies; we desire, like yourselves, under the +pretext of the division of labor, to make use of the labor of others, and +to live for the gratification of our caprices alone." They say this, and +prove by their action that they understand no worse, if not better, than +men, how to exercise this semblance of labor. + +This so-called woman question has come up, and could only come up, among +men who have departed from the law of actual labor. All that is required +is, to return to that, and this question cannot exist. Woman, having her +own inevitable task, will never demand the right to share the toil of men +in the mines and in the fields. She could only demand to share in the +fictitious labors of the men of the wealthy classes. + +The woman of our circle has been, and still is, stronger than the man, +not by virtue of her fascinations, not through her cleverness in +performing the same pharisaical semblance of work as man, but because she +has not stepped out from under the law that she should undergo that real +labor, with danger to her life, with exertion to the last degree, from +which the man of the wealthy classes has excused herself. + +But, within my memory, a departure from this law on the part of woman, +that is to say, her fall, has begun; and, within my memory, it has become +more and more the case. Woman, having lost the law, has acquired the +belief that her strength lies in the witchery of her charms, or in her +skill in pharisaical pretences at intellectual work. And both things are +bad for the children. And, within my memory, women of the wealthy +classes have come to refuse to bear children. And so mothers who hold +the power in their hands let it escape them, in order to make way for the +dissolute women, and to put themselves on a level with them. The evil is +already wide-spread, and is extending farther and farther every day; and +soon it will lay hold on all the women of the wealthy classes, and then +they will compare themselves with men: and in company with them, they +will lose the rational meaning of life. But there is still time. + +If women would but comprehend their destiny, their power, and use it for +the salvation of their husbands, brothers, and children,--for the +salvation of all men! + +Women of the wealthy classes who are mothers, the salvation of the men of +our world from the evils from which they are suffering, lies in your +hands. + +Not those women who are occupied with their dainty figures, with their +bustles, their hair-dressing, and their attraction for men, and who bear +children against their will, with despair, and hand them over to nurses; +nor those who attend various courses of lectures, and discourse of +psychometric centres and differentiation, and who also endeavor to escape +bearing children, in order that it may not interfere with their folly +which they call culture: but those women and mothers, who, possessing the +power to refuse to bear children, consciously and in a straightforward +way submit to this eternal, unchangeable law, knowing that the burden and +the difficulty of such submission is their appointed lot in life,--these +are the women and mothers of our wealthy classes, in whose hands, more +than in those of any one else, lies the salvation of the men of our +sphere in society from the miseries that oppress them. + +Ye women and mothers who deliberately submit yourselves to the law of +God, you alone in our wretched, deformed circle, which has lost the +semblance of humanity, you alone know the whole of the real meaning of +life, according to the law of God; and you alone, by your example, can +demonstrate to people that happiness in life, in submission to the will +of God, of which they are depriving themselves. You alone know those +raptures and those joys which invade the whole being, that bliss which is +appointed for the man who does not depart from the law of God. You know +the happiness of love for your husbands,--a happiness which does not come +to an end, which does not break off short, like all other forms of +happiness, and which constitutes the beginning of a new happiness,--of +love for your child. You alone, when you are simple and obedient to the +will of God, know not that farcical pretence of labor which the men of +our circle call work, and know that the labor imposed by God on men, and +know its true rewards, the bliss which it confers. You know this, when, +after the raptures of love, you await with emotion, fear, and terror that +torturing state of pregnancy which renders you ailing for nine months, +which brings you to the verge of death, and to intolerable suffering and +pain. You know the conditions of true labor, when, with joy, you await +the approach and the increase of the most terrible torture, after which +to you alone comes the bliss which you well know. You know this, when, +immediately after this torture, without respite, without a break, you +undertake another series of toils and sufferings,--nursing,--in which +process you at one and the same time deny yourselves, and subdue to your +feelings the very strongest human need, that of sleep, which, as the +proverb says, is dearer than father or mother; and for months and years +you never get a single sound, unbroken might's rest, and sometimes, nay, +often, you do not sleep at all for a period of several nights in +succession, but with failing arms you walk alone, punishing the sick +child who is breaking your heart. And when you do all this, applauded by +no one, and expecting no praises for it from any one, nor any +reward,--when you do this, not as an heroic deed, but like the laborer in +the Gospel when he came from the field, considering that you have done +only that which was your duty, then you know what the false, pretentious +labor of men performed for glory really is, and that true labor is +fulfilling the will of God, whose command you feel in your heart. You +know that if you are a true mother it makes no difference that no one has +seen your toil, that no one has praised you for it, but that it has only +been looked upon as what must needs be so, and that even those for whom +your have labored not only do not thank you, but often torture and +reproach you. And with the next child you do the same: again you suffer, +again you undergo the fearful, invisible labor; and again you expect no +reward from any one, and yet you feel the sane satisfaction. + +If you are like this, you will not say after two children, or after +twenty, that you have done enough, just as the laboring man fifty years +of age will not say that he has worked enough, while he still continues +to eat and to sleep, and while his muscles still demand work; if you are +like this, your will not cast the task of nursing and care-taking upon +some other mother, just as a laboring man will not give another man the +work which he has begun, and almost completed, to finish: because into +this work you will throw your life. And therefore the more there is of +this work, the fuller and the happier is your life. + +And when you are like this, for the good fortune of men, you will apply +that law of fulfilling God's will, by which you guide your life, to the +lives of your husband, of your children, and of those most nearly +connected with you. If your are like this, and know from your own +experience, that only self-sacrificing, unseen, unrewarded labor, +accompanied with danger to life and to the extreme bounds of endurance, +for the lives of others, is the appointed lot of man, which affords him +satisfaction, then you will announce these demands to others; you will +urge your husband to the same toil; and you will measure and value the +dignity of men acceding to this toil; and for this toil you will also +prepare your children. + +Only that mother who looks upon children as a disagreeable accident, and +upon love, the comforts of life, costume, and society, as the object of +life, will rear her children in such a manner that they shall have as +much enjoyment as possible out of life, and that they shall make the +greatest possible use of it; only she will feed them luxuriously, deck +them out, amuse them artificially; only she will teach them, not that +which will fit them for self-sacrificing masculine or feminine labor with +danger of their lives, and to the last limits of endurance, but that +which will deliver them from this labor. Only such a woman, who has lost +the meaning of her life, will sympathize with that delusive and false +male labor, by means of which her husband, having rid himself of the +obligations of a man, is enabled to enjoy, in her company, the work of +others. Only such a woman will choose a similar man for the husband of +her daughter, and will estimate men, not by what they are personally, but +by that which is connected with them,--position, money, or their ability +to take advantage of the labor of others. + +But the true mother, who actually knows the will of God, will fit her +children to fulfil it also. For such a mother, to see her child overfed, +enervated, decked out, will mean suffering; for all this, as she well +knows, will render difficult for him the fulfilment of the law of God in +which she has instructed him. Such a mother will teach, not that which +will enable her son and her daughter to rid themselves of labor, but that +which will help them to endure the toils of life. She will have no need +to inquire what she shall teach her children, for what she shall prepare +them. Such a woman will not only not encourage her husband to false and +delusive labor, which has but one object, that of using the labors of +others; but she will bear herself with disgust and horror towards such an +employment, which serves as a double temptation to her children. Such a +woman will not choose a husband for her daughter on account of the +whiteness of his hands and the refinement of manner; but, well aware that +labor and deceit will exist always and everywhere, she will, beginning +with her husband, respect and value in men, and will require from them, +real labor, with expenditure and risk of life, and she will despise that +deceptive labor which has for its object the ridding one's self of all +true toil. + +Such a mother, who brings forth children and nurses them, and will +herself, rather than any other, feed her offspring and prepare their +food, and sew, and wash, and teach her children, and sleep and talk with +them, because in this she grounds the business of her life,--only such a +mother will not seek for her children external guaranties in the form of +her husband's money, and the children's diplomas; but she will rear them +to that same capacity for the self-sacrificing fulfilment of the will of +God which she is conscious of herself possessing,--a capacity for +enduring toil with expenditure and risk of life,--because she knows that +in this lies the sole guaranty, and the only well-being in life. Such a +mother will not ask other people what she ought to do; she will know +every thing, and will fear nothing. + +If there can exist any doubt for the man and for the childless woman, as +to the path in which the fulfilment of the will of God lies, this path is +firmly and clearly defined for the woman who is a mother; and if she has +complied with it in submissiveness and in simplicity of spirit, she, +standing on that loftiest height of bliss which the human being is +permitted to attain, will become a guiding-star for all men who are +seeking good. Only the mother can calmly say before her death, to Him +who sent her into this world, and to Him whom she has served by bearing +and rearing children more dear than herself,--only she can say calmly, +having served Him who has imposed this service upon her: "Now lettest +thou thy servant depart in peace." And this is the highest perfection, +towards which, as towards the highest bliss, men are striving. + +Such are the women, who, having fulfilled their destiny, reign over +powerful men; such are the women who prepare the new generations of +people, and fix public opinion: and, therefore, in the hands of these +women lies the highest power of saving men from the prevailing and +threatening evils of our times. + +Yes, ye women and mothers, in your hands, more than in those of all +others, lies the salvation of the world! + + + + +Footnotes: + + +{21a} The fine, tall members of a regiment, selected and placed together +to form a showy squad. + +{21b} [] Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition printed in +Russia, in the set of Count Tolstoi's works. + +{24a} Reaumur. + +{24b} A drink made of water, honey, and laurel or salvia leaves, which +is drunk as tea, especially by the poorer classes. + +{28} [] Omitted by the censor from the authorized edition published in +Russia in the set of count Tolstoi's works. The omission is indicated +thus . . . + +{39} _Kalatch_, a kind of roll: _baranki_, cracknels of fine flour. + +{59} An _arshin_ is twenty-eight inches. + +{60} A _myeshchanin_, or citizen, who pays only poll-tax and not a guild +tax. + +{62} Omitted in authorized edition. + +{66} Omitted by the censor in the authorized edition. + +{94} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{96} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{99} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{108} Omitted by the Censor from the authorized edition. + +{111} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{113} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition + +{116} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{122a} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{122b} A very complicated sort of whist. + +{124} The whole of this chapter is omitted by the Censor in the +authorized edition, and is there represented by the following sentence: +"And I felt that in money, in money itself, in the possession of it, +there was something immoral; and I asked myself, What is money?" + +{135} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{138} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{139} The above passage is omitted in the authorized edition, and the +following is added: "I came to the simple and natural conclusion, that, +if I pity the tortured horse upon which I am riding, the first thing for +me to do is to alight, and to walk on my own feet." + +{140} Omitted in the authorized edition. + +{142} Omitted in the authorized edition. + +{152a} "Into a worse state," in the authorized edition. + +{152b} Omitted in the authorized edition. + +{154} Omitted in the authorized edition. + +{155} Reaumur. + +{158} In the Moscow edition (authorized by the Censor), the concluding +paragraph is replaced by the following:--"They say: The action of a +single man is but a drop in the sea. A drop in the sea! + +"There is an Indian legend relating how a man dropped a pearl into the +sea, and in order to recover it he took a bucket, and began to bail out, +and to pour the water on the shore. Thus he toiled without intermission, +and on the seventh day the spirit of the sea grew alarmed lest the man +should dip the sea dry, and so he brought him his pearl. If our social +evil of persecuting man were the sea, then that pearl which we have lost +is equivalent to devoting our lives to bailing out the sea of that evil. +The prince of this world will take fright, he will succumb more promptly +than did the spirit of the sea; but this social evil is not the sea, but +a foul cesspool, which we assiduously fill with our own uncleanness. All +that is required is for us to come to our senses, and to comprehend what +we are doing; to fall out of love with our own uncleanness,--in order +that that imaginary sea should dry away, and that we should come into +possession of that priceless pearl,--fraternal, humane life." + +{161a} An arshin is twenty-eight inches. + +{161b} The fast extends from the 5th to the 30th of June, O.S. (June 27 +to July 12, N.S.) + +{165} A pood is thirty-six pounds. + +{167} Robinson Crusoe. + +{168} Here something has been omitted by the Censor, which I am unable +to supply.--TRANS. + +{169} An omission by the censor, which I am unable to supply. TRANS. + +{178} We designate as organisms the elephant and the bacterian, only +because we assume by analogy in those creatures the same conjunction of +feeling and consciousness that we know to exist in ourselves. But in +human societies and in humanity, this actual sign is absent; and +therefore, however many other signs we may discover in humanity and in +organism, without this substantial token the recognition of humanity as +an organism is incorrect. + +{238} _v prikusku_, when a lump of sugar is held in the teeth instead or +being put into the tea. + +{252} In English in the text. + +{256} An excellent translation of Kriloff's Fables, by Mr. W. R. S. +Ralston, is published in London. + +{260} _Burlak_, pl. _burlaki_, is a boatman on the River Volga. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHAT TO DO?*** + + +******* This file should be named 3630.txt or 3630.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/6/3/3630 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +The Project Gutenberg eBook, On the Significance of Science and Art, by +Count Lyof N. Tolstoi, Translated by Isabel F. Hapgood + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: On the Significance of Science and Art + from What to Do? + + +Author: Count Lyof N. Tolstoi + + + +Release Date: December 27, 2007 [eBook #3631] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON THE SIGNIFICANCE OF SCIENCE AND +ART*** + + +Transcribed from the 1887 Tomas Y. Crowell "What to do?" edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org + + + + + +ON THE SIGNIFICANCE OF SCIENCE AND ART--FROM "WHAT TO DO?" + + +ON THE SIGNIFICANCE OF SCIENCE AND ART. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +. . . {169} The justification of all persons who have freed themselves +from toil is now founded on experimental, positive science. The +scientific theory is as follows:-- + +"For the study of the laws of life of human societies, there exists but +one indubitable method,--the positive, experimental, critical method + +"Only sociology, founded on biology, founded on all the positive +sciences, can give us the laws of humanity. Humanity, or human +communities, are the organisms already prepared, or still in process of +formation, and which are subservient to all the laws of the evolution of +organisms. + +"One of the chief of these laws is the variation of destination among the +portions of the organs. Some people command, others obey. If some have +in superabundance, and others in want, this arises not from the will of +God, not because the empire is a form of manifestation of personality, +but because in societies, as in organisms, division of labor becomes +indispensable for life as a whole. Some people perform the muscular +labor in societies; others, the mental labor." + +Upon this doctrine is founded the prevailing justification of our time. + +Not long ago, their reigned in the learned, cultivated world, a moral +philosophy, according to which it appeared that every thing which exists +is reasonable; that there is no such thing as evil or good; and that it +is unnecessary for man to war against evil, but that it is only necessary +for him to display intelligence,--one man in the military service, +another in the judicial, another on the violin. There have been many and +varied expressions of human wisdom, and these phenomena were known to the +men of the nineteenth century. The wisdom of Rousseau and of Lessing, +and Spinoza and Bruno, and all the wisdom of antiquity; but no one man's +wisdom overrode the crowd. It was impossible to say even this,--that +Hegel's success was the result of the symmetry of this theory. There +were other equally symmetrical theories,--those of Descartes, Leibnitz, +Fichte, Schopenhauer. There was but one reason why this doctrine won for +itself, for a season, the belief of the whole world; and this reason was, +that the deductions of that philosophy winked at people's weaknesses. +These deductions were summed up in this,--that every thing was +reasonable, every thing good; and that no one was to blame. + +When I began my career, Hegelianism was the foundation of every thing. It +was floating in the air; it was expressed in newspaper and periodical +articles, in historical and judicial lectures, in novels, in treatises, +in art, in sermons, in conversation. The man who was not acquainted with +Hegal had no right to speak. Any one who desired to understand the truth +studied Hegel. Every thing rested on him. And all at once the forties +passed, and there was nothing left of him. There was not even a hint of +him, any more than if he had never existed. And the most amazing thing +of all was, that Hegelianism did not fall because some one overthrew it +or destroyed it. No! It was the same then as now, but all at once it +appeared that it was of no use whatever to the learned and cultivated +world. + +There was a time when the Hegelian wise men triumphantly instructed the +masses; and the crowd, understanding nothing, blindly believed in every +thing, finding confirmation in the fact that it was on hand; and they +believed that what seemed to them muddy and contradictory there on the +heights of philosophy was all as clear as the day. But that time has +gone by. That theory is worn out: a new theory has presented itself in +its stead. The old one has become useless; and the crowd has looked into +the secret sanctuaries of the high priests, and has seen that there is +nothing there, and that there has been nothing there, save very obscure +and senseless words. This has taken place within my memory. + +"But this arises," people of the present science will say, "from the fact +that all that was the raving of the theological and metaphysical period; +but now there exists positive, critical science, which does not deceive, +since it is all founded on induction and experiment. Now our erections +are not shaky, as they formerly were, and only in our path lies the +solution of all the problems of humanity." + +But the old teachers said precisely the same, and they were no fools; and +we know that there were people of great intelligence among them. And +precisely thus, within my memory, and with no less confidence, with no +less recognition on the part of the crowd of so-called cultivated people, +spoke the Hegelians. And neither were our Herzens, our Stankevitches, or +our Byelinskys fools. But whence arose that marvellous manifestation, +that sensible people should preach with the greatest assurance, and that +the crowd should accept with devotion, such unfounded and unsupportable +teachings? There is but one reason,--that the teachings thus inculcated +justified people in their evil life. + +A very poor English writer, whose works are all forgotten, and recognized +as the most insignificant of the insignificant, writes a treatise on +population, in which he devises a fictitious law concerning the increase +of population disproportionate to the means of subsistence. This +fictitious law, this writer encompasses with mathematical formulae +founded on nothing whatever; and then he launches it on the world. From +the frivolity and the stupidity of this hypothesis, one would suppose +that it would not attract the attention of any one, and that it would +sink into oblivion, like all the works of the same author which followed +it; but it turned out quite otherwise. The hack-writer who penned this +treatise instantly becomes a scientific authority, and maintains himself +upon that height for nearly half a century. Malthus! The Malthusian +theory,--the law of the increase of the population in geometrical, and of +the means of subsistence in arithmetical proportion, and the wise and +natural means of restricting the population,--all these have become +scientific, indubitable truths, which have not been confirmed, but which +have been employed as axioms, for the erection of false theories. In +this manner have learned and cultivated people proceeded; and among the +herd of idle persons, there sprung up a pious trust in the great laws +expounded by Malthus. How did this come to pass? It would seem as +though they were scientific deductions, which had nothing in common with +the instincts of the masses. But this can only appear so for the man who +believes that science, like the Church, is something self-contained, +liable to no errors, and not simply the imaginings of weak and erring +folk, who merely substitute the imposing word "science," in place of the +thoughts and words of the people, for the sake of impressiveness. + +All that was necessary was to make practical deductions from the theory +of Malthus, in order to perceive that this theory was of the most human +sort, with the best defined of objects. The deductions directly arising +from this theory were the following: The wretched condition of the +laboring classes was such in accordance with an unalterable law, which +does not depend upon men; and, if any one is to blame in this matter, it +is the hungry laboring classes themselves. Why are they such fools as to +give birth to children, when they know that there will be nothing for the +children to eat? And so this deduction, which is valuable for the herd +of idle people, has had this result: that all learned men overlooked the +incorrectness, the utter arbitrariness of these deductions, and their +insusceptibility to proof; and the throng of cultivated, i.e., of idle +people, knowing instinctively to what these deductions lead, saluted this +theory with enthusiasm, conferred upon it the stamp of truth, i.e., of +science, and dragged it about with them for half a century. + +Is not this same thing the cause of the confidence of men in positive +critical-experimental science, and of the devout attitude of the crowd +towards that which it preaches? At first it seems strange, that the +theory of evolution can in any manner justify people in their evil ways; +and it seems as though the scientific theory of evolution has to deal +only with facts, and that it does nothing else but observe facts. + +But this only appears to be the case. + +Exactly the same thing appeared to be the case with the Hegelian +doctrine, in a greater degree, and also in the special instance of the +Malthusian doctrine. Hegelianism was, apparently, occupied only with its +logical constructions, and bore no relation to the life of mankind. +Precisely this seemed to be the case with the Malthusian theory. It +appeared to be busy itself only with statistical data. But this was only +in appearance. + +Contemporary science is also occupied with facts alone: it investigates +facts. But what facts? Why precisely these facts, and no others? + +The men of contemporary science are very fond of saying, triumphantly and +confidently, "We investigate only facts," imagining that these words +contain some meaning. It is impossible to investigate facts alone, +because the facts which are subject to our investigation are +_innumerable_ (in the definite sense of that word),--innumerable. Before +we proceed to investigate facts, we must have a theory on the foundation +of which these or those facts can be inquired into, i.e., selected from +the incalculable quantity. + +And this theory exists, and is even very definitely expressed, although +many of the workers in contemporary science do not know it, or often +pretend that they do not know it. Exactly thus has it always been with +all prevailing and guiding doctrines. The foundations of every doctrine +are always stated in a theory, and the so-called learned men merely +invent further deductions from the foundations once stated. Thus +contemporary science is selecting its facts on the foundation of a very +definite theory, which it sometimes knows, sometimes refuses to know, and +sometimes really does not know; but the theory exists. + +The theory is as follows: All mankind is an undying organism; men are the +particles of that organism, and each one of them has his own special task +for the service of others. In the same manner, the cells united in an +organism share among them the labor of fight for existence of the whole +organism; they magnify the power of one capacity, and weaken another, and +unite in one organ, in order the better to supply the requirements of the +whole organism. And exactly in the same manner as with gregarious +animals,--ants or bees,--the separate individuals divide the labor among +them. The queen lays the egg, the drone fructifies it; the bee works his +whole life long. And precisely this thing takes place in mankind and in +human societies. And therefore, in order to find the law of life for +man, it is necessary to study the laws of the life and the development of +organisms. + +In the life and development of organisms, we find the following laws: the +law of differentiation and integration, the law that every phenomenon is +accompanied not by direct consequences alone, another law regarding the +instability of type, and so on. All this seems very innocent; but it is +only necessary to draw the deductions from all these laws, in order to +immediately perceive that these laws incline in the same direction as the +law of Malthus. These laws all point to one thing; namely, to the +recognition of that division of labor which exists in human communities, +as organic, that is to say, as indispensable. And therefore, the unjust +position in which we, the people who have freed ourselves from labor, +find ourselves, must be regarded not from the point of view of common- +sense and justice, but merely as an undoubted fact, confirming the +universal law. + +Moral philosophy also justified every sort of cruelty and harshness; but +this resulted in a philosophical manner, and therefore wrongly. But with +science, all this results scientifically, and therefore in a manner not +to be doubted. + +How can we fail to accept so very beautiful a theory? It is merely +necessary to look upon human society as an object of contemplation; and I +can console myself with the thought that my activity, whatever may be its +nature, is a functional activity of the organism of humanity, and that +therefore there cannot arise any question as to whether it is just that +I, in employing the labor of others, am doing only that which is +agreeable to me, as there can arise no question as to the division of +labor between the brain cells and the muscular cells. How is it possible +not to admit so very beautiful a theory, in order that one may be able, +ever after, to pocket one's conscience, and have a perfectly unbridled +animal existence, feeling beneath one's self that support of science +which is not to be shaken nowadays! + +And it is on this new doctrine that the justification for men's idleness +and cruelty is now founded. + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +This doctrine had its rise not so very long--fifty years--ago. Its +principal founder was the French _savant_ Comte. There occurred to +Comte,--a systematist, and a religious man to boot,--under the influence +of the then novel physiological investigations of Biche, the old idea +already set forth by Menenius Agrippa,--the idea that human society, all +humanity even, might be regarded as one whole, as an organism; and men as +living parts of the separate organs, having each his own definite +appointment to serve the entire organism. + +This idea so pleased Comte, that upon it he began to erect a +philosophical theory; and this theory so carried him away, that he +utterly forgot that the point of departure for his theory was nothing +more than a very pretty comparison, which was suitable for a fable, but +which could by no means serve as the foundation for science. He, as +frequently happens, mistook his pet hypothesis for an axiom, and imagined +that his whole theory was erected on the very firmest of foundations. +According to his theory, it seemed that since humanity is an organism, +the knowledge of what man is, and of what should be his relations to the +world, was possible only through a knowledge of the features of this +organism. For the knowledge of these qualities, man is enabled to take +observations on other and lower organisms, and to draw conclusions from +their life. Therefore, in the fist place, the true and only method, +according to Comte, is the inductive, and all science is only such when +it has experiment as its basis; in the second place, the goal and crown +of sciences is formed by that new science dealing with the imaginary +organism of humanity, or the super-organic being,--humanity,--and this +newly devised science is sociology. + +And from this view of science it appears, that all previous knowledge was +deceitful, and that the whole story of humanity, in the sense of self- +knowledge, has been divided into three, actually into two, periods: the +theological and metaphysical period, extending from the beginning of the +world to Comte, and the present period,--that of the only true science, +positive science,--beginning with Comte. + +All this was very well. There was but one error, and that was this,--that +the whole edifice was erected on the sand, on the arbitrary and false +assertion that humanity is an organism. This assertion was arbitrary, +because we have just as much right to admit the existence of a human +organism, not subject to observation, as we have to admit the existence +of any other invisible, fantastic being. This assertion was erroneous, +because for the understanding of humanity, i.e., of men, the definition +of an organism was incorrectly constructed, while in humanity itself all +actual signs of organism,--the centre of feeling or consciousness, are +lacking. {178} + +But, in spite of the arbitrariness and incorrectness of the fundamental +assumption of positive philosophy, it was accepted by the so-called +cultivated world with the greatest sympathy. In this connection, one +thing is worthy of note: that out of the works of Comte, consisting of +two parts, of positive philosophy and of positive politics, only the +first was adopted by the learned world,--that part which justifieth, on +new promises, the existent evil of human societies; but the second part, +treating of the moral obligations of altruism, arising from the +recognition of mankind as an organism, was regarded as not only of no +importance, but as trivial and unscientific. It was a repetition of the +same thing that had happened in the case of Kant's works. The "Critique +of Pure Reason" was adopted by the scientific crowd; but the "Critique of +Applied Reason," that part which contains the gist of moral doctrine, was +repudiated. In Kant's doctrine, that was accepted as scientific which +subserved the existent evil. But the positive philosophy, which was +accepted by the crowd, was founded on an arbitrary and erroneous basis, +was in itself too unfounded, and therefore unsteady, and could not +support itself alone. And so, amid all the multitude of the idle plays +of thought of the men professing the so-called science, there presents +itself an assertion equally devoid of novelty, and equally arbitrary and +erroneous, to the effect that living beings, i.e., organisms, have had +their rise in each other,--not only one organism from another, but one +from many; i.e., that in a very long interval of time (in a million of +years, for instance), not only could a duck and a fish proceed from one +ancestor, but that one animal might result from a whole hive of bees. And +this arbitrary and erroneous assumption was accepted by the learned world +with still greater and more universal sympathy. This assumption was +arbitrary, because no one has ever seen how one organism is made from +another, and therefore the hypothesis as to the origin of species will +always remain an hypothesis, and not an experimental fact. And this +hypothesis was also erroneous, because the decision of the question as to +the origin of species--that they have originated, in consequence of the +law of heredity and fitness, in the course of an interminably long +time--is no solution at all, but merely a re-statement of the problem in +a new form. + +According to Moses' solution of the question (in the dispute with whom +the entire significance of this theory lies), it appears that the +diversity of the species of living creatures proceeded according to the +will of God, and according to His almighty power; but according to the +theory of evolution, it appears that the difference between living +creatures arose by chance, and on account of varying conditions of +heredity and surroundings, through an endless period of time. The theory +of evolution, to speak in simple language, merely asserts, that by +chance, in an incalculably long period of time, out of any thing you +like, any thing else that you like may develop. + +This is no answer to the problem. And the same problem is differently +expressed: instead of will, chance is offered, and the co-efficient of +the eternal is transposed from the power to the time. But this fresh +assertion strengthened Comte's assertion. And, moreover, according to +the ingenuous confession of the founder of Darwin's theory himself, his +idea was aroused in him by the law of Malthus; and he therefore +propounded the theory of the struggle of living creatures and people for +existence, as the fundamental law of every living thing. And lo! only +this was needed by the throng of idle people for their justification. + +Two insecure theories, incapable of sustaining themselves on their feet, +upheld each other, and acquired the semblance of stability. Both +theories bore with them that idea which is precious to the crowd, that in +the existent evil of human societies, men are not to blame, and that the +existing order of things is that which should prevail; and the new theory +was adopted by the throng with entire faith and unheard-of enthusiasm. +And behold, on the strength of these two arbitrary and erroneous +hypotheses, accepted as dogmas of belief, the new scientific doctrine was +ratified. + +Spencer, for example, in one of his first works, expresses this doctrine +thus:-- + +"Societies and organisms," he says, "are alike in the following points:-- + +"1. In that, beginning as tiny aggregates, they imperceptibly grow in +mass, so that some of them attain to the size of ten thousand times their +original bulk. + +"2. In that while they were, in the beginning, of such simple structure, +that they can be regarded as destitute of all structure, they acquire +during the period of their growth a constantly increasing complication of +structure. + +"3. In that although in their early, undeveloped period, there exists +between them hardly any interdependence of parts, their parts gradually +acquire an interdependence, which eventually becomes so strong, that the +life and activity of each part becomes possible only on condition of the +life and activity of the remaining parts. + +"4. In that life and the development of society are independent, and +more protracted than the life and development of any one of the units +constituting it, which are born, grow, act, reproduce themselves, and die +separately; while the political body formed from them, continues to live +generation after generation, developing in mass in perfection and +functional activity." + +The points of difference between organisms and society go farther; and it +is proved that these differences are merely apparent, but that organisms +and societies are absolutely similar. + +For the uninitiated man the question immediately presents itself: "What +are you talking about? Why is mankind an organism, or similar to an +organism?" + +You say that societies resemble organisms in these four features; but it +is nothing of the sort. You only take a few features of the organism, +and beneath them you range human communities. You bring forward four +features of resemblance, then you take four features of dissimilarity, +which are, however, only apparent (according to you); and you thence +conclude that human societies can be regarded as organisms. But surely, +this is an empty game of dialectics, and nothing more. On the same +foundation, under the features of an organism, you may range whatever you +please. I will take the fist thing that comes into my head. Let us +suppose it to be a forest,--the manner in which it sows itself in the +plain, and spreads abroad. 1. Beginning with a small aggregate, it +increases imperceptibly in mass, and so forth. Exactly the same thing +takes place in the fields, when they gradually seed themselves down, and +bring forth a forest. 2. In the beginning the structure is simple: +afterwards it increases in complication, and so forth. Exactly the same +thing happens with the forest,--in the first place, there were only bitch- +trees, then came brush-wood and hazel-bushes; at first all grow erect, +then they interlace their branches. 3. The interdependence of the parts +is so augmented, that the life of each part depends on the life and +activity of the remaining parts. It is precisely so with the forest,--the +hazel-bush warms the tree-boles (cut it down, and the other trees will +freeze), the hazel-bush protects from the wind, the seed-bearing trees +carry on reproduction, the tall and leafy trees afford shade, and the +life of one tree depends on the life of another. 4. The separate parts +may die, but the whole lives. Exactly the case with the forest. The +forest does not mourn one tree. + +Having proved that, in accordance with this theory, you may regard the +forest as an organism, you fancy that you have proved to the disciples of +the organic doctrine the error of their definition. Nothing of the sort. +The definition which they give to the organism is so inaccurate and so +elastic that under this definition they may include what they will. +"Yes," they say; "and the forest may also be regarded as an organism. The +forest is mutual re-action of individuals, which do not annihilate each +other,--an aggregate; its parts may also enter into a more intimate +union, as the hive of bees constitutes itself an organism." Then you +will say, "If that is so, then the birds and the insects and the grass of +this forest, which re-act upon each other, and do not destroy each other, +may also be regarded as one organism, in company with the trees." And to +this also they will agree. Every collection of living individuals, which +re-act upon each other, and do not destroy each other, may be regarded as +organisms, according to their theory. You may affirm a connection and +interaction between whatever you choose, and, according to evolution, you +may affirm, that, out of whatever you please, any other thing that you +please may proceed, in a very long period of time. + +And the most remarkable thing of all is, that this same identical +positive science recognizes the scientific method as the sign of true +knowledge, and has itself defined what it designates as the scientific +method. + +By the scientific method it means common-sense. + +And common-sense convicts it at every step. As soon as the Popes felt +that nothing holy remained in them, they called themselves most holy. + +As soon as science felt that no common-sense was left in her she called +herself sensible, that is to say, scientific science. + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Division of labor is the law of all existing things, and, therefore, it +should be present in human societies. It is very possible that this is +so; but still the question remains, Of what nature is that division of +labor which I behold in my human society? is it that division of labor +which should exist? And if people regard a certain division of labor as +unreasonable and unjust, then no science whatever can convince men that +that should exist which they regard as unreasonable and unjust. + +Division of labor is the condition of existence of organisms, and of +human societies; but what, in these human societies, is to be regarded as +an organic division of labor? And, to whatever extent science may have +investigated the division of labor in the cells of worms, all these +observations do not compel a man to acknowledge that division of labor to +be correct which his own sense and conscience do not recognize as +correct. No matter how convincing may be the proofs of the division of +labor of the cells in the organisms studied, man, if he has not parted +with his judgment, will say, nevertheless, that a man should not weave +calico all his life, and that this is not division of labor, but +persecution of the people. Spencer and others say that there is a whole +community of weavers, and that the profession of weaving is an organic +division of labor. There are weavers; so, of course, there is such a +division of labor. It would be well enough to speak thus if the colony +of weavers had arisen by the free will of its member's; but we know that +it is not thus formed of their initiative, but that we make it. Hence it +is necessary to find out whether we have made these weavers in accordance +with an organic law, or with some other. + +Men live. They support themselves by agriculture, as is natural to all +men. One man has set up a blacksmith's forge, and repaired his plough; +his neighbor comes to him, and asks him to mend his also, and promises +him in return either work or money. A third comes, and a fourth; and in +the community formed by these men, there arises the following division of +labor,--a blacksmith is created. Another man has instructed his children +well; his neighbor brings his children to him, and requests him to teach +them also, and a teacher is created. But both blacksmith and teacher +have been created, and continue to be such, merely because they have been +asked; and they remain such as long as they are requested to be +blacksmith and teacher. If it should come to pass that many blacksmiths +and teachers should set themselves up, or that their work is not +requited, they will immediately, as common-sense demands and as always +happens when there is no occasion for disturbing the regular course of +division of labor,--they will immediately abandon their trade, and betake +themselves once more to agriculture. + +Men who behave thus are guided by their sense, their conscience; and +hence we, the men endowed with sense and conscience, all assert that such +a division of labor is right. But if it should chance that the +blacksmiths were able to compel other people to work for them, and should +continue to make horse-shoes when they were not wanted, and if the +teachers should go on teaching when there was no one to teach, then it is +obvious to every sane man, as a man, i.e., as a being endowed with reason +and conscience, that this would not be division, but appropriation, of +labor. And yet precisely that sort of activity is what is called +division of labor by scientific science. People do that which others do +not think of requiring, and demand that they shall be supported for so +doing, and say that this is just because it is division of labor. + +That which constitutes the cause of the economical poverty of our age is +what the English call over-production (which means that a mass of things +are made which are of no use to anybody, and with which nothing can be +done). + +It would be odd to see a shoemaker, who should consider that people were +bound to feed him because he incessantly made boots which had been of no +use to any one for a long time; but what shall we say of those men who +make nothing,--who not only produce nothing that is visible, but nothing +that is of use for people at large,--for whose wares there are no +customers, and who yet demand, with the same boldness, on the ground of +division of labor, that they shall be supplied with fine food and drink, +and that they shall be dressed well? There may be, and there are, +sorcerers for whose services a demand makes itself felt, and for this +purpose there are brought to them pancakes and flasks; but it is +difficult to imagine the existence of sorcerers whose spells are useless +to every one, and who boldly demand that they shall be luxuriously +supported because they exercise sorcery. And it is the same in our +world. And all this comes about on the basis of that false conception of +the division of labor, which is defined not by reason and conscience, but +by observation, which men of science avow with such unanimity. + +Division of labor has, in reality, always existed, and still exists; but +it is right only when man decides with his reason and his conscience that +it should be so, and not when he merely investigates it. And reason and +conscience decide the question for all men very simply, unanimously, and +in a manner not to be doubted. They always decide it thus: that division +of labor is right only when a special branch of man's activity is so +needful to men, that they, entreating him to serve them, voluntarily +propose to support him in requital for that which he shall do for them. +But, when a man can live from infancy to the age of thirty years on the +necks of others, promising to do, when he shall have been taught, +something extremely useful, for which no one asks him; and when, from the +age of thirty until his death, he can live in the same manner, still +merely on the promise to do something, for which there has been no +request, this will not be division of labor (and, as a matter of fact, +there is no such thing in our society), but it will be what it already +is,--merely the appropriation, by force, of the toil of others; that same +appropriation by force of the toil of others which the philosophers +formerly designated by various names,--for instance, as indispensable +forms of life,--but which scientific science now calls the organic +division of labor. + +The whole significance of scientific science lies in this alone. It has +now become a distributer of diplomas for idleness; for it alone, in its +sanctuaries, selects and determines what is parasitical, and what is +organic activity, in the social organism. Just as though every man could +not find this out for himself much more accurately and more speedily, by +taking counsel of his reason and his conscience. It seems to men of +scientific science, that there can be no doubt of this, and that their +activity is also indubitably organic; they, the scientific and artistic +workers, are the brain cells, and the most precious cells in the whole +organism. + +Ever since men--reasoning beings--have existed, they have distinguished +good from evil, and have profited by the fact that men have made this +distinction before them; they have warred against evil, and have sought +the good, and have slowly but uninterruptedly advanced in that path. And +divers delusions have always stood before men, hemming in this path, and +having for their object to demonstrate to them, that it was not necessary +to do this, and that it was not necessary to live as they were living. +With fearful conflict and difficulty, men have freed themselves from many +delusions. And behold, a new and a still more evil delusion has sprung +up in the path of mankind,--the scientific delusion. + +This new delusion is precisely the same in nature as the old ones; its +gist lies in secretly leading astray the activity of our reason and +conscience, and of those who have lived before us, by something external. +In scientific science, this external thing is--investigation. + +The cunning of this science consists in this,--that, after pointing out +to men the coarsest false interpretations of the activity of the reason +and conscience of man, it destroys in them faith in their own reason and +conscience, and assures them that every thing which their reason and +conscience say to them, that all that these have said to the loftiest +representatives of man heretofore, ever since the world has existed,--that +all this is conventional and subjective. "All this must be abandoned," +they say; "it is impossible to understand the truth by the reason, for we +may be mistaken. But there exists another unerring and almost mechanical +path: it is necessary to investigate facts." + +But facts must be investigated on the foundation of scientific science, +i.e., of the two hypotheses of positivism and evolution, which are not +borne out by any thing, and which give themselves out as undoubted +truths. And the reigning science announces, with delusive solemnity, +that the solution of all problems of life is possible only through the +study of facts, of nature, and, in particular, of organisms. The +credulous mass of young people, overwhelmed by the novelty of this +authority, which has not yet been overthrown or even touched by +criticism, flings itself into the study of natural sciences, into that +sole path, which, according to the assertion of the reigning science, can +lead to the elucidation of the problems of life. + +But the farther the disciples proceed in this study, the farther and +farther does not only the possibility, but even the very idea, of the +solution of the problems of life withdraw from them, and the more and +more do they become accustomed, not so much to investigate, as to believe +in the assertions of other investigators (to believe in cells, in +protoplasm, in the fourth condition of bodies, and so forth); the more +and more does the form veil the contents from them; the more and more do +they lose the consciousness of good and evil, and the capacity of +understanding those expressions and definitions of good and evil which +have been elaborated through the whole foregoing life of mankind; and the +more and more do they appropriate to themselves the special scientific +jargon of conventional expressions, which possesses no universally human +significance; and the deeper and deeper do they plunge into the _debris_ +of utterly unilluminated investigations; the more and more do they lose +the power, not only of independent thought, but even of understanding the +fresh human thought of others, which lies beyond the bounds of their +Talmud. But the principal thing is, that they pass their best years in +getting disused to life; they grow accustomed to consider their position +as justifiable; and they convert themselves physically into utterly +useless parasites, and mentally they dislocate their brains and become +mental eunuchs. And in precisely the same manner, according to the +measure of their folly, do they acquire self-conceit, which deprives them +forever of all possibility of return to a simple life of toil, to a +simple, clear, and universally human train of reasoning. + +Division of labor always has existed in human communities, and will +probably always exist; but the question for us lies not in the fact that +it has existed, and that it will exist, but in this,--how are we to +govern ourselves so that this division shall be right? But if we take +investigation as our rule of action, we by this very act repudiate all +rule; then in that case we shall regard as right every division of labor +which we shall descry among men, and which appears to us to be right--to +which conclusion the prevailing scientific science also leads. + +Division of labor! + +Some are busied in mental or moral, others in muscular or physical, +labor. With what confidence people enunciate this! They wish to think +so, and it seems to them that, in point of fact, a perfectly regular +exchange of services does take place. + +But we, in our blindness, have so completely lost sight of the +responsibility which we have assumed, that we have even forgotten in +whose name our labor is prosecuted; and the very people whom we have +undertaken to serve have become the objects of our scientific and +artistic activity. We study and depict them for our amusement and +diversion. We have totally forgotten that what we need to do is not to +study and depict them, but to serve them. To such a degree have we lost +sight of this duty which we have taken upon us, that we have not even +noticed that what we have undertaken to perform in the realm of science +and art has been accomplished not by us, but by others, and that our +place has turned out to be occupied. + +It proves that while we have been disputing, one about the spontaneous +origin of organisms, another as to what else there is in protoplasm, and +so on, the common people have been in need of spiritual food; and the +unsuccessful and rejected of art and science, in obedience to the mandate +of adventurers who have in view the sole aim of profit, have begun to +furnish the people with this spiritual food, and still so furnish them. +For the last forty years in Europe, and for the last ten years with us +here in Russia, millions of books and pictures and song-books have been +distributed, and stalls have been opened, and the people gaze and sing +and receive spiritual nourishment, but not from us who have undertaken to +provide it; while we, justifying our idleness by that spiritual food +which we are supposed to furnish, sit by and wink at it. + +But it is impossible for us to wink at it, for our last justification is +slipping from beneath our feet. We have become specialized. We have our +particular functional activity. We are the brains of the people. They +support us, and we have undertaken to teach them. It is only under this +pretence that we have excused ourselves from work. But what have we +taught them, and what are we now teaching them? They have waited for +years--for tens, for hundreds of years. And we keep on diverting our +minds with chatter, and we instruct each other, and we console ourselves, +and we have utterly forgotten them. We have so entirely forgotten them, +that others have undertaken to instruct them, and we have not even +perceived it. We have spoken of the division of labor with such lack of +seriousness, that it is obvious that what we have said about the benefits +which we have conferred on the people was simply a shameless evasion. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Science and art have arrogated to themselves the right of idleness, and +of the enjoyment of the labor of others, and have betrayed their calling. +And their errors have arisen merely because their servants, having set +forth a falsely conceived principle of the division of labor, have +recognized their own right to make use of the labor of others, and have +lost the significance of their vocation; having taken for their aim, not +the profit of the people, but the mysterious profit of science and art, +and delivered themselves over to idleness and vice--not so much of the +senses as of the mind. + +They say, "Science and art have bestowed a great deal on mankind." + +Science and art have bestowed a great deal on mankind, not because the +men of art and science, under the pretext of a division of labor, live on +other people, but in spite of this. + +The Roman Republic was powerful, not because her citizens had the power +to live a vicious life, but because among their number there were heroic +citizens. It is the same with art and science. Art and science have +bestowed much on mankind, but not because their followers formerly +possessed on rare occasions (and now possess on every occasion) the +possibility of getting rid of labor; but because there have been men of +genius, who, without making use of these rights, have led mankind +forward. + +The class of learned men and artists, which has advanced, on the +fictitious basis of a division of labor, its demands to the right of +using the labors of others, cannot co-operate in the success of true +science and true art, because a lie cannot bring forth the truth. + +We have become so accustomed to these, our tenderly reared or weakened +representatives of mental labor, that it seems to us horrible that a man +of science or an artist should plough or cart manure. It seems to us +that every thing would go to destruction, and that all his wisdom would +be rattled out of him in the cart, and that all those grand picturesque +images which he bears about in his breast would be soiled in the manure; +but we have become so inured to this, that it does not strike us as +strange that our servitor of science--that is to say, the servant and +teacher of the truth--by making other people do for him that which he +might do for himself, passes half his time in dainty eating, in smoking, +in talking, in free and easy gossip, in reading the newspapers and +romances, and in visiting the theatres. It is not strange to us to see +our philosopher in the tavern, in the theatre, and at the ball. It is +not strange in our eyes to learn that those artists who sweeten and +ennoble our souls have passed their lives in drunkenness, cards, and +women, if not in something worse. + +Art and science are very beautiful things; but just because they are so +beautiful they should not be spoiled by the compulsory combination with +them of vice: that is to say, a man should not get rid of his obligation +to serve his own life and that of other people by his own labor. Art and +science have caused mankind to progress. Yes; but not because men of art +and science, under the guise of division of labor, have rid themselves of +the very first and most indisputable of human obligations,--to labor with +their hands in the universal struggle of mankind with nature. + +"But only the division of labor, the freedom of men of science and of art +from the necessity of earning them living, has rendered possible that +remarkable success of science which we behold in our day," is the answer +to this. "If all were forced to till the soil, those _vast_ results +would not have been attained which have been attained in our day; there +would have been none of those _striking_ successes which have so greatly +augmented man's power over nature, were it not for these astronomical +discoveries _which are so astounding to the mind of man_, and which have +added to the security of navigation; there would be no steamers, no +railways, none of those _wonderful_ bridges, tunnels, steam-engines and +telegraphs, photography, telephones, sewing-machines, phonographs, +electricity, telescopes, spectroscopes, microscopes, chloroform, Lister's +bandages, and carbolic acid." + +I will not enumerate every thing on which our age thus prides itself. +This enumeration and pride of enthusiasm over ourselves and our exploits +can be found in almost any newspaper and popular pamphlet. This +enthusiasm over ourselves is often repeated to such a degree that none of +us can sufficiently rejoice over ourselves, that we are seriously +convinced that art and science have never made such progress as in our +own time. And, as we are indebted for all this marvellous progress to +the division of labor, why not acknowledge it? + +Let us admit that the progress made in our day is noteworthy, marvellous, +unusual; let us admit that we are fortunate mortals to live in such a +remarkable epoch: but let us endeavor to appraise this progress, not on +the basis of our self-satisfaction, but of that principle which defends +itself with this progress,--the division of labor. All this progress is +very amazing; but by a peculiarly unlucky chance, admitted even by the +men of science, this progress has not so far improved, but it has rather +rendered worse, the position of the majority, that is to say, of the +workingman. + +If the workingman can travel on the railway, instead of walking, still +that same railway has burned down his forest, has carried off his grain +under his very nose, and has brought his condition very near to +slavery--to the capitalist. If, thanks to steam-engines and machines, +the workingman can purchase inferior calico at a cheap rate, on the other +hand these engines and machines have deprived him of work at home, and +have brought him into a state of abject slavery to the manufacturer. If +there are telephones and telescopes, poems, romances, theatres, ballets, +symphonies, operas, picture-galleries, and so forth, on the other hand +the life of the workingman has not been bettered by all this; for all of +them, by the same unlucky chance, are inaccessible to him. + +So that, on the whole (and even men of science admit this), up to the +present time, all these remarkable discoveries and products of science +and art have certainly not ameliorated the condition of the workingman, +if, indeed, they have not made it worse. So that, if we set against the +question as to the reality of the progress attained by the arts and +sciences, not our own rapture, but that standard upon the basis of which +the division of labor is defended,--the good of the laboring man,--we +shall see that we have no firm foundations for that self-satisfaction in +which we are so fond of indulging. + +The peasant travels on the railway, the woman buys calico, in the _isba_ +(cottage) there will be a lamp instead of a pine-knot, and the peasant +will light his pipe with a match,--this is convenient; but what right +have I to say that the railway and the factory have proved advantageous +to the people? + +If the peasant rides on the railway, and buys calico, a lamp, and +matches, it is only because it is impossible to forbid the peasant's +buying them; but surely we are all aware that the construction of +railways and factories has never been carried out for the benefit of the +lower classes: so why should a casual convenience which the workingman +enjoys lead to a proof of the utility of all these institutions for the +people? + +There is something useful in every injurious thing. After a +conflagration, one can warm one's self, and light one's pipe with a +firebrand; but why declare that the conflagration is beneficial? + +Men of art and science might say that their pursuits are beneficial to +the people, only when men of art and science have assigned to themselves +the object of serving the people, as they now assign themselves the +object of serving the authorities and the capitalists. We might say this +if men of art and science had taken as their aim the needs of the people; +but there are none such. All scientists are busy with their priestly +avocations, out of which proceed investigations into protoplasm, the +spectral analyses of stars, and so on. But science has never once +thought of what axe or what hatchet is the most profitable to chop with, +what saw is the most handy, what is the best way to mix bread, from what +flour, how to set it, how to build and heat an oven, what food and drink, +and what utensils, are the most convenient and advantageous under certain +conditions, what mushrooms may be eaten, how to propagate them, and how +to prepare them in the most suitable manner. And yet all this is the +province of science. + +I am aware, that, according to its own definition, science ought to be +useless, i.e., science for the sake of science; but surely this is an +obvious evasion. The province of science is to serve the people. We +have invented telegraphs, telephones, phonographs; but what advances have +we effected in the life, in the labor, of the people? We have reckoned +up two millions of beetles! And we have not tamed a single animal since +biblical times, when all our animals were already domesticated; but the +reindeer, the stag, the partridge, the heath-cock, all remain wild. + +Our botanists have discovered the cell, and in the cell protoplasm, and +in that protoplasm still something more, and in that atom yet another +thing. It is evident that these occupations will not end for a long time +to come, because it is obvious that there can be no end to them, and +therefore the scientist has no time to devote to those things which are +necessary to the people. And therefore, again, from the time of Egyptian +and Hebrew antiquity, when wheat and lentils had already been cultivated, +down to our own times, not a single plant has been added to the food of +the people, with the exception of the potato, and that was not obtained +by science. + +Torpedoes have been invented, and apparatus for taxation, and so forth. +But the spinning-whined, the woman's weaving-loom, the plough, the +hatchet, the chain, the rake, the bucket, the well-sweep, are exactly the +same as they were in the days of Rurik; and if there has been any change, +then that change has not been effected by scientific people. + +And it is the same with the arts. We have elevated a lot of people to +the rank of great writers; we have picked these writers to pieces, and +have written mountains of criticism, and criticism on the critics, and +criticism on the critics of the critics. And we have collected picture- +galleries, and have studied different schools of art in detail; and we +have so many symphonies and orchestras and operas, that it is becoming +difficult even for us to listen to them. But what have we added to the +popular _bylini_ [the epic songs], legends, tales, songs? What music, +what pictures, have we given to the people? + +On the Nikolskaya books are manufactured for the people, and harmonicas +in Tula; and in neither have we taken any part. The falsity of the whole +direction of our arts and sciences is more striking and more apparent in +precisely those very branches, which, it would seem, should, from their +very nature, be of use to the people, and which, in consequence of their +false attitude, seem rather injurious than useful. The technologist, the +physician, the teacher, the artist, the author, should, in virtue of +their very callings, it would seem, serve the people. And, what then? +Under the present _regime_, they can do nothing but harm to the people. + +The technologist or the mechanic has to work with capital. Without +capital he is good for nothing. All his acquirements are such that for +their display he requires capital, and the exploitation of the laboring- +man on the largest scale; and--not to mention that he is trained to live, +at the lowest, on from fifteen hundred to two thousand a year, and that, +therefore, he cannot go to the country, where no one can give him such +wages,--he is, by virtue of his very occupation, unfitted for serving the +people. He knows how to calculate the highest mathematical arch of a +bridge, how to calculate the force and transfer of the motive power, and +so on; but he is confounded by the simplest questions of a peasant: how +to improve a plough or a cart, or how to make irrigating canals. All +this in the conditions of life in which the laboring man finds himself. +Of this, he neither knows nor understands any thing,--less, indeed, than +the very stupidest peasant. Give him workshops, all sorts of workmen at +his desire, an order for a machine from abroad, and he will get along. +But how to devise means of lightening toil, under the conditions of labor +of millions of men,--this is what he does not and can not know; and +because of his knowledge, his habits, and his demands on life, he is +unfitted for this business. + +In a still worse predicament is the physician. His fancied science is +all so arranged, that he only knows how to heal those persons who do +nothing. He requires an incalculable quantity of expensive preparations, +instruments, drugs, and hygienic apparatus. + +He has studied with celebrities in the capitals, who only retain patients +who can be cured in the hospital, or who, in the course of their cure, +can purchase the appliances requisite for healing, and even go at once +from the North to the South, to some baths or other. Science is of such +a nature, that every rural physic-man laments because there are no means +of curing working-men, because he is so poor that he has not the means to +place the sick man in the proper hygienic conditions; and at the same +time this physician complains that there are no hospitals, and that he +cannot get through with his work, that he needs assistants, more doctors +and practitioners. + +What is the inference? This: that the people's principal lack, from +which diseases arise, and spread abroad, and refuse to be healed, is the +lack of means of subsistence. And here Science, under the banner of the +division of labor, summons her warriors to the aid of the people. Science +is entirely arranged for the wealthy classes, and it has adopted for its +task the healing of the people who can obtain every thing for themselves; +and it attempts to heal those who possess no superfluity, by the same +means. + +But there are no means, and therefore it is necessary to take them from +the people who are ailing, and pest-stricken, and who cannot recover for +lack of means. And now the defenders of medicine for the people say that +this matter has been, as yet, but little developed. Evidently it has +been but little developed, because if (which God forbid!) it had been +developed, and that through oppressing the people,--instead of two +doctors, midwives, and practitioners in a district, twenty would have +settled down, since they desire this, and half the people would have died +through the difficulty of supporting this medical staff, and soon there +would be no one to heal. + +Scientific co-operation with the people, of which the defenders of +science talk, must be something quite different. And this co-operation +which should exist has not yet begun. It will begin when the man of +science, technologist or physician, will not consider it legal to take +from people--I will not say a hundred thousand, but even a modest ten +thousand, or five hundred rubles for assisting them; but when he will +live among the toiling people, under the same conditions, and exactly as +they do, then he will be able to apply his knowledge to the questions of +mechanics, technics, hygiene, and the healing of the laboring people. But +now science, supporting itself at the expense of the working-people, has +entirely forgotten the conditions of life among these people, ignores (as +it puts it) these conditions, and takes very grave offence because its +fancied knowledge finds no adherents among the people. + +The domain of medicine, like the domain of technical science, still lies +untouched. All questions as to how the time of labor is best divided, +what is the best method of nourishment, with what, in what shape, and +when it is best to clothe one's self, to shoe one's self, to counteract +dampness and cold, how best to wash one's self, to feed the children, to +swaddle them, and so on, in just those conditions in which the working- +people find themselves,--all these questions have not yet been +propounded. + +The same is the case with the activity of the teachers of +science,--pedagogical teachers. Exactly in the same manner science has +so arranged this matter, that only wealthy people are able to study +science, and teachers, like technologists and physicians, cling to money. + +And this cannot be otherwise, because a school built on a model plan (as +a general rule, the more scientifically built the school, the more costly +it is), with pivot chains, and globes, and maps, and library, and petty +text-books for teachers and scholars and pedagogues, is a sort of thing +for which it would be necessary to double the taxes in every village. +This science demands. The people need money for their work; and the more +there is needed, the poorer they are. + +Defenders of science say: "Pedagogy is even now proving of advantage to +the people, but give it a chance to develop, and then it will do still +better." Yes, if it does develop, and instead of twenty schools in a +district there are a hundred, and all scientific, and if the people +support these schools, they will grow poorer than ever, and they will +more than ever need work for their children's sake. "What is to be +done?" they say to this. The government will build the schools, and will +make education obligatory, as it is in Europe; but again, surely, the +money is taken from the people just the same, and it will be harder to +work, and they will have less leisure for work, and there will be no +education even by compulsion. Again the sole salvation is this: that the +teacher should live under the conditions of the working-men, and should +teach for that compensation which they give him freely and voluntarily. + +Such is the false course of science, which deprives it of the power of +fulfilling its obligation, which is, to serve the people. + +But in nothing is this false course of science so obviously apparent, as +in the vocation of art, which, from its very significance, ought to be +accessible to the people. Science may fall back on its stupid excuse, +that science acts for science, and that when it turns out learned men it +is laboring for the people; but art, if it is art, should be accessible +to all the people, and in particular to those in whose name it is +executed. And our definition of art, in a striking manner, convicts +those who busy themselves with art, of their lack of desire, lack of +knowledge, and lack of power, to be useful to the people. + +The painter, for the production of his great works, must have a studio of +at least such dimensions that a whole association of carpenters (forty in +number) or shoemakers, now sickening or stifling in lairs, would be able +to work in it. But this is not all; he must have a model, costumes, +travels. Millions are expended on the encouragement of art, and the +products of this art are both incomprehensible and useless to the people. +Musicians, in order to express their grand ideas, must assemble two +hundred men in white neckties, or in costumes, and spend hundreds of +thousands of rubles for the equipment of an opera. And the products of +this art cannot evoke from the people--even if the latter could at any +time enjoy it--any thing except amazement and _ennui_. + +Writers--authors--it appears, do not require surroundings, studios, +models, orchestras, and actors; but it then appears that the author needs +(not to mention comfort in his quarters) all the dainties of life for the +preparation of his great works, travels, palaces, cabinets, libraries, +the pleasures of art, visits to theatres, concerts, the baths, and so on. +If he does not earn a fortune for himself, he is granted a pension, in +order that he may compose the better. And again, these compositions, so +prized by us, remain useless lumber for the people, and utterly +unserviceable to them. + +And if still more of these dealers in spiritual nourishment are developed +further, as men of science desire, and a studio is erected in every +village; if an orchestra is set up, and authors are supported in those +conditions which artistic people regard as indispensable for +themselves,--I imagine that the working-classes will sooner take an oath +never to look at any pictures, never to listen to a symphony, never to +read poetry or novels, than to feed all these persons. + +And why, apparently, should art not be of service to the people? In +every cottage there are images and pictures; every peasant man and woman +sings; many own harmonicas; and all recite stories and verses, and many +read. It is as if those two things which are made for each other--the +lock and the key--had parted company; they have sprung so far apart, that +not even the possibility of uniting them presents itself. Tell the +artist that he should paint without a studio, model, or costumes, and +that he should paint five-kopek pictures, and he will say that that is +tantamount to abandoning his art, as he understands it. Tell the +musician that he should play on the harmonica, and teach the women to +sing songs; say to the poet, to the author, that he ought to cast aside +his poems and romances, and compose song-books, tales, and stories, +comprehensible to the uneducated people,--they will say that you are mad. + +The service of the people by science and art will only be performed when +people, dwelling in the midst of the common folk, and, like the common +folk, putting forward no demands, claiming no rights, shall offer to the +common folk their scientific and artistic services; the acceptance or +rejection of which shall depend wholly on the will of the common folk. + +It is said that the activity of science and art has aided in the forward +march of mankind,--meaning by this activity, that which is now called by +that name; which is the same as saying that an unskilled banging of oars +on a vessel that is floating with the tide, which merely hinders the +progress of the vessel, is assisting the movement of the ship. It only +retards it. The so-called division of labor, which has become in our day +the condition of activity of men of science and art, was, and has +remained, the chief cause of the tardy forward movement of mankind. + +The proofs of this lie in that confession of all men of science, that the +gains of science and art are inaccessible to the laboring masses, in +consequence of the faulty distribution of riches. The irregularity of +this distribution does not decrease in proportion to the progress of +science and art, but only increases. Men of art and science assume an +air of deep pity for this unfortunate circumstance which does not depend +upon them. But this unfortunate circumstance is produced by themselves; +for this irregular distribution of wealth flows solely from the theory of +the division of labor. + +Science maintains the division of labor as a unalterable law; it sees +that the distribution of wealth, founded on the division of labor, is +wrong and ruinous; and it affirms that its activity, which recognizes the +division of labor, will lead people to bliss. The result is, that some +people make use of the labor of others; but that, if they shall make use +of the labor of others for a very long period of time, and in still +larger measure, then this wrongful distribution of wealth, i.e., the use +of the labor of others, will come to an end. + +Men stand beside a constantly swelling spring of water, and are occupied +with the problem of diverting it to one side, away from the thirsty +people, and they assert that they are producing this water, and that soon +enough will be collected for all. But this water which has flowed, and +which still flows unceasingly, and nourishes all mankind, not only is not +the result of the activity of the men who, standing at its source, turn +it aside, but this water flows and gushes out, in spite of the efforts of +these men to obstruct its flow. + +There have always existed a true science, and a true art; but true +science and art are not such because they called themselves by that name. +It always seems to those who claim at any given period to be the +representatives of science and art, that they have performed, and are +performing, and--most of all--that they will presently perform, the most +amazing marvels, and that beside them there never has been and there is +not any science or any art. Thus it seemed to the sophists, the +scholastics, the alchemists, the cabalists, the talmudists; and thus it +seems to our own scientific science, and to our art for the sake of art. + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +"But art,--science! You repudiate art and science; that is, you +repudiate that by which mankind lives!" People are constantly making +this--it is not a reply--to me, and they employ this mode of reception in +order to reject my deductions without examining into them. "He +repudiates science and art, he wants to send people back again into a +savage state; so what is the use of listening to him and of talking to +him?" But this is unjust. I not only do not repudiate art and science, +but, in the name of that which is true art and true science, I say that +which I do say; merely in order that mankind may emerge from that savage +state into which it will speedily fall, thanks to the erroneous teaching +of our time,--only for this purpose do I say that which I say. + +Art and science are as indispensable as food and drink and clothing,--more +indispensable even; but they become so, not because we decide that what +we designate as art and science are indispensable, but simply because +they really are indispensable to people. + +Surely, if hay is prepared for the bodily nourishment of men, the fact +that we are convinced that hay is the proper food for man will not make +hay the food of man. Surely I cannot say, "Why do not you eat hay, when +it is the indispensable food?" Food is indispensable, but it may happen +that that which I offer is not food at all. This same thing has occurred +with our art and science. It seems to us, that if we add to a Greek word +the word "logy," and call that a science, it will be a science; and, if +we call any abominable thing--like the dancing of nude females--by a +Greek word, choreography, that that is art, and that it will be art. But +no matter how much we may say this, the business with which we occupy +ourselves when we count beetles, and investigate the chemical +constituents of the stars in the Milky Way, when we paint nymphs and +compose novels and symphonies,--our business will not become either art +or science until such time as it is accepted by those people for whom it +is wrought. + +If it were decided that only certain people should produce food, and if +all the rest were forbidden to do this, or if they were rendered +incapable of producing food, I suppose that the quality of food would be +lowered. If the people who enjoyed the monopoly of producing food were +Russian peasants, there would be no other food than black bread and +cabbage-soup, and so on, and kvas,--nothing except what they like, and +what is agreeable to them. The same thing would happen in the case of +that loftiest human pursuit, of arts and sciences, if one caste were to +arrogate to itself a monopoly of them: but with this sole difference, +that, in the matter of bodily food, there can be no great departure from +nature, and bread and cabbage-soup, although not very savory viands, are +fit for consumption; but in spiritual food, there may exist the very +greatest departures from nature, and some people may feed themselves for +a long time on poisonous spiritual nourishment, which is directly +unsuitable for, or injurious to, them; they may slowly kill themselves +with spiritual opium or liquors, and they may offer this same food to the +masses. + +It is this very thing that is going on among us. And it has come about +because the position of men of science and art is a privileged one, +because art and science (in our day), in our world, are not at all a +rational occupation of all mankind without exception, exerting their best +powers for the service of art and science, but an occupation of a +restricted circle of people holding a monopoly of these industries, and +entitling themselves men of art and science, and who have, therefore, +perverted the very idea of art and science, and have lost all the meaning +of their vocation, and who are only concerned in amusing and rescuing +from crushing _ennui_ their tiny circle of idle mouths. + +Ever since men have existed, they have always had science and art in the +simplest and broadest sense of the term. Science, in the sense of the +whole of knowledge acquired by mankind, exists and always has existed, +and life without it is not conceivable; and there is no possibility of +either attacking or defending science, taken in this sense. + +But the point lies here,--that the scope of the knowledge of all mankind +as a whole is so multifarious, ranging from the knowledge of how to +extract iron to the knowledge of the movements of the planets, that man +loses himself in this multitude of existing knowledge,--knowledge capable +of _endless_ possibilities, if he have no guiding thread, by the aid of +which he can classify this knowledge, and arrange the branches according +to the degrees of their significance and importance. + +Before a man undertakes to learn any thing whatever, he must make up his +mind that that branch of knowledge is of weight to him, and of more +weight and importance than the countless other objects of study with +which he is surrounded. Before undertaking the study of any thing, a man +decides for what purpose he is studying this subject, and not the others. +But to study every thing, as the men of scientific science in our day +preach, without any idea of what is to come out of such study, is +downright impossible, because the number of subjects of study is +_endless_; and hence, no matter how many branches we may acquire, their +acquisition can possess no significance or reason. And, therefore, in +ancient times, down to even a very recent date, until the appearance of +scientific science, man's highest wisdom consisted in finding that +guiding thread, according to which the knowledge of men should be +classified as being of primary or of secondary importance. And this +knowledge, which forms the guide to all other branches of knowledge, men +have always called science in the strictest acceptation of the word. And +such science there has always been, even down to our own day, in all +human communities which have emerged from their primal state of savagery. + +Ever since mankind has existed, teachers have always arisen among +peoples, who have enunciated science in this restricted sense,--the +science of what it is most useful for man to know. This science has +always had for its object the knowledge of what is the true ground of the +well-being of each individual man, and of all men, and why. Such was the +science of Confucius, of Buddha, of Socrates, of Mahomet, and of others; +such is this science as they understood it, and as all men--with the +exception of our little circle of so-called cultured people--understand +it. This science has not only always occupied the highest place, but has +been the only and sole science, from which the standing of the rest has +been determined. And this was the case, not in the least because, as the +so-called scientific people of our day think, cunning priestly teachers +of this science attributed to it such significance, but because in +reality, as every one knows, both by personal experience and by +reflection, there can be no science except the science of that in which +the destiny and welfare of man consist. For the objects of science are +_incalculable_ in number,--I undermine the word "incalculable" in the +exact sense in which I understand it,--and without the knowledge of that +in which the destiny and welfare of all men consist, there is no +possibility of making a choice amid this interminable multitude of +subjects; and therefore, without this knowledge, all other arts and +branches of learning will become, as they have become among us, an idle +and hurtful diversion. + +Mankind has existed and existed, and never has it existed without the +science of that in which the destiny and the welfare of men consist. It +is true that the science of the welfare of men appears different on +superficial observation, among the Buddhists, the Brahmins, the Hebrews, +the Confucians, the Tauists; but nevertheless, wherever we hear of men +who have emerged from a state of savagery, we find this science. And all +of a sudden it appears that the men of our day have decided that this +same science, which has hitherto served as the guiding thread of all +human knowledge, is the very thing which hinders every thing. Men erect +buildings; and one architect has made one estimate of cost, a second has +made another, and a third yet another. The estimates differ somewhat; +but they are correct, so that any one can see, that, if the whole is +carried out in accordance with the calculations, the building will be +erected. Along come people, and assert that the chief point lies in +having no estimates, and that it should be built thus--by the eye. And +this "thus," men call the most accurate of scientific science. Men +repudiate every science, the very substance of science,--the definition +of the destiny and the welfare of men,--and this repudiation they +designate as science. + +Ever since men have existed, great minds have been born into their midst, +which, in the conflict with reason and conscience, have put to themselves +questions as to "what constitutes welfare,--the destiny and welfare, not +of myself alone, but of every man?" What does that power which has +created and which leads me, demand of me and of every man? And what is +it necessary for me to do, in order to comply with the requirements +imposed upon me by the demands of individual and universal welfare? They +have asked themselves: "I am a whole, and also a part of something +infinite, eternal; what, then, are my relations to other parts similar to +myself, to men and to the whole--to the world?" + +And from the voices of conscience and of reason, and from a comparison of +what their contemporaries and men who had lived before them, and who had +propounded to themselves the same questions, had said, these great +teachers have deduced their doctrines, which were simple, clear, +intelligible to all men, and always such as were susceptible of +fulfilment. Such men have existed of the first, second, third, and +lowest ranks. The world is full of such men. Every living man propounds +the question to himself, how to reconcile the demands of welfare, and of +his personal existence, with conscience and reason; and from this +universal labor, slowly but uninterruptedly, new forms of life, which are +more in accord with the requirements of reason and of conscience, are +worked out. + +All at once, a new caste of people makes its appearance, and they say, +"All this is nonsense; all this must be abandoned." This is the +deductive method of ratiocination (wherein lies the difference between +the deductive and the inductive method, no one can understand); these are +the dogmas of the technological and metaphysical period. Every thing +that these men discover by inward experience, and which they communicate +to one another, concerning their knowledge of the law of their existence +(of their functional activity, according to their own jargon), every +thing that the grandest minds of mankind have accomplished in this +direction, since the beginning of the world,--all this is nonsense, and +has no weight whatever. According to this new doctrine, it appears that +you are cells: and that you, as a cell, have a very definite functional +activity, which you not only fulfil, but which you infallibly feel within +you; and that you are a thinking, talking, understanding cell, and that +you, for this reason, can ask another similar talking cell whether it is +just the same, and in this way verify your own experience; that you can +take advantage of the fact that speaking cells, which have lived before +you, have written on the same subject, and that you have millions of +cells which confirm your observations by their agreement with the cells +which have written down their thoughts,--all this signifies nothing; all +this is an evil and an erroneous method. + +The true scientific method is this: If you wish to know in what the +destiny and the welfare of all mankind and of all the world consists, you +must, first of all, cease to listen to the voices of your conscience and +of your reason, which present themselves in you and in others like you; +you must cease to believe all that the great teachers of mankind have +said with regard to your conscience and reason, and you must consider all +this as nonsense, and begin all over again. And, in order to understand +every thing from the beginning, you must look through microscopes at the +movements of amoebae, and cells in worms, or, with still greater +composure, believe in every thing that men with a diploma of +infallibility shall say to you about them. And as you gaze at the +movements of these cells, or read about what others have seen, you must +attribute to these cells your own human sensations and calculations as to +what they desire, whither they are directing themselves, how they compare +and discuss, and to what they have become accustomed; and from these +observations (in which there is not a word about an error of thought or +of expression) you must deduce a conclusion by analogy as to what you +are, what is your destiny, wherein lies the welfare of yourself and of +other cells like you. In order to understand yourself, you must study +not only the worms which you see, but microscopic creatures which you can +barely see, and transformations from one set of creatures into others, +which no one has ever beheld, and which you, most assuredly, will never +behold. And the same with art. Where there has been true science, art +has always been its exponent. + +Ever since men have been in existence, they have been in the habit of +deducing, from all pursuits, the expressions of various branches of +learning concerning the destiny and the welfare of man, and the +expression of this knowledge has been art in the strict sense of the +word. + +Ever since men have existed, there have been those who were peculiarly +sensitive and responsive to the doctrine regarding the destiny and +welfare of man; who have given expression to their own and the popular +conflict, to the delusions which lead them astray from their destinies, +their sufferings in this conflict, their hopes in the triumph of good, +them despair over the triumph of evil, and their raptures in the +consciousness of the approaching bliss of man, on viol and tabret, in +images and words. Always, down to the most recent times, art has served +science and life,--only then was it what has been so highly esteemed of +men. But art, in its capacity of an important human activity, +disappeared simultaneously with the substitution for the genuine science +of destiny and welfare, of the science of any thing you choose to fancy. +Art has existed among all peoples, and will exist until that which among +us is scornfully called religion has come to be considered the only +science. + +In our European world, so long as there existed a Church, as the doctrine +of destiny and welfare, and so long as the Church was regarded as the +only true science, art served the Church, and remained true art: but as +soon as art abandoned the Church, and began to serve science, while +science served whatever came to hand, art lost its significance. And +notwithstanding the rights claimed on the score of ancient memories, and +of the clumsy assertion which only proves its loss of its calling, that +art serves art, it has become a trade, providing men with something +agreeable; and as such, it inevitably comes into the category of +choreographic, culinary, hair-dressing, and cosmetic arts, whose +practitioners designate themselves as artists, with the same right as the +poets, printers, and musicians of our day. + +Glance backward into the past, and you will see that in the course of +thousands of years, out of milliards of people, only half a score of +Confucius', Buddhas, Solomons, Socrates, Solons, and Homers have been +produced. Evidently, they are rarely met with among men, in spite of the +fact that these men have not been selected from a single caste, but from +mankind at large. Evidently, these true teachers and artists and learned +men, the purveyors of spiritual nourishment, are rare. And it is not +without reason that mankind has valued and still values them so highly. + +But it now appears, that all these great factors in the science and art +of the past are no longer of use to us. Nowadays, scientific and +artistic authorities can, in accordance with the law of division of +labor, be turned out by factory methods; and, in one decade, more great +men have been manufactured in art and science, than have ever been born +of such among all nations, since the foundation of the world. Nowadays +there is a guild of learned men and artists, and they prepare, by +perfected methods, all that spiritual food which man requires. And they +have prepared so much of it, that it is no longer necessary to refer to +the elder authorities, who have preceded them,--not only to the ancients, +but to those much nearer to us. All that was the activity of the +theological and metaphysical period,--all that must be wiped out: but the +true, the rational activity began, say, fifty years ago, and in the +course of those fifty years we have made so many great men, that there +are about ten great men to every branch of science. And there have come +to be so many sciences, that, fortunately, it is easy to make them. All +that is required is to add the Greek word "logy" to the name, and force +them to conform to a set rubric, and the science is all complete. They +have created so many sciences, that not only can no one man know them +all, but not a single individual can remember all the titles of all the +existing sciences; the titles alone form a thick lexicon, and new +sciences are manufactured every day. They have been manufactured on the +pattern of that Finnish teacher who taught the landed proprietor's +children Finnish instead of French. Every thing has been excellently +inculcated; but there is one objection,--that no one except ourselves can +understand any thing of it, and all this is reckoned as utterly useless +nonsense. However, there is an explanation even for this. People do not +appreciate the full value of scientific science, because they are under +the influence of the theological period, that profound period when all +the people, both among the Hebrews, and the Chinese, and the Indians, and +the Greeks, understood every thing that their great teachers said to +them. + +But, from whatever cause this has come about, the fact remains, that +sciences and arts have always existed among mankind, and, when they +really did exist, they were useful and intelligible to all the people. +But we practise something which we call science and art, but it appears +that what we do is unnecessary and unintelligible to man. And hence, +however beautiful may be the things that we accomplish, we have no right +to call them arts and sciences. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +"But you only furnish a different definition of arts and sciences, which +is stricter, and is incompatible with science," I shall be told in answer +to this; "nevertheless, scientific and artistic activity does still +exist. There are the Galileos, Brunos, Homers, Michael Angelos, +Beethovens, and all the lesser learned men and artists, who have +consecrated their entire lives to the service of science and art, and who +were, and will remain, the benefactors of mankind." + +Generally this is what people say, striving to forget that new principle +of the division of labor, on the basis of which science and art now +occupy their privileged position, and on whose basis we are now enabled +to decide without grounds, but by a given standard: Is there, or is there +not, any foundation for that activity which calls itself science and art, +to so magnify itself? + +When the Egyptian or the Grecian priests produced their mysteries, which +were unintelligible to any one, and stated concerning these mysteries +that all science and all art were contained in them, I could not verify +the reality of their science on the basis of the benefit procured by them +to the people, because science, according to their assertions, was +supernatural. But now we all possess a very simple and clear definition +of the activity of art and science, which excludes every thing +supernatural: science and art promise to carry out the mental activity of +mankind, for the welfare of society, or of all the human race. + +The definition of scientific science and art is entirely correct; but, +unfortunately, the activity of the present arts and sciences does not +come under this head. Some of them are directly injurious, others are +useless, others still are worthless,--good only for the wealthy. They do +not fulfil that which, by their own definition, they have undertaken to +accomplish; and hence they have as little right to regard themselves as +men of art and science, as a corrupt priesthood, which does not fulfil +the obligations which it has assumed, has the right to regard itself as +the bearer of divine truth. + +And it can be understood why the makers of the present arts and sciences +have not fulfilled, and cannot fulfil, their vocation. They do not +fulfil it, because out of their obligations they have erected a right. + +Scientific and artistic activity, in its real sense, is only fruitful +when it knows no rights, but recognizes only obligations. Only because +it is its property to be always thus, does mankind so highly prize this +activity. If men really were called to the service of others through +artistic work, they would see in that work only obligation, and they +would fulfil it with toil, with privations, and with self-abnegation. + +The thinker or the artist will never sit calmly on Olympian heights, as +we have become accustomed to represent them to ourselves. The thinker or +the artist should suffer in company with the people, in order that he may +find salvation or consolation. Besides this, he will suffer because he +is always and eternally in turmoil and agitation: he might decide and say +that that which would confer welfare on men, would free them from +suffering, would afford them consolation; but he has not said so, and has +not presented it as he should have done; he has not decided, and he has +not spoken; and to-morrow, possibly, it will be too late,--he will die. +And therefore suffering and self-sacrifice will always be the lot of the +thinker and the artist. + +Not of this description will be the thinker and artist who is reared in +an establishment where, apparently, they manufacture the learned man or +the artist (but in point of fact, they manufacture destroyers of science +and of art), who receives a diploma and a certificate, who would be glad +not to think and not to express that which is imposed on his soul, but +who cannot avoid doing that to which two irresistible forces draw him,--an +inward prompting, and the demand of men. + +There will be no sleek, plump, self-satisfied thinkers and artists. +Spiritual activity, and its expression, which are actually necessary to +others, are the most burdensome of all man's avocations; a cross, as the +Gospels phrase it. And the sole indubitable sign of the presence of a +vocation is self-devotion, the sacrifice of self for the manifestation of +the power that is imposed upon man for the benefit of others. + +It is possible to study out how many beetles there are in the world, to +view the spots on the sun, to write romances and operas, without +suffering; but it is impossible, without self-sacrifice, to instruct +people in their true happiness, which consists solely in renunciation of +self and the service of others, and to give strong expression to this +doctrine, without self-sacrifice. + +Christ did not die on the cross in vain; not in vain does the sacrifice +of suffering conquer all things. + +But our art and science are provided with certificates and diplomas; and +the only anxiety of all men is, how to still better guarantee them, i.e., +how to render the service of the people impracticable for them. + +True art and true science possess two unmistakable marks: the first, an +inward mark, which is this, that the servitor of art and science will +fulfil his vocation, not for profit but with self-sacrifice; and the +second, an external sign,--his productions will be intelligible to all +the people whose welfare he has in view. + +No matter what people have fixed upon as their vocation and their +welfare, science will be the doctrine of this vocation and welfare, and +art will be the expression of that doctrine. That which is called +science and art, among us, is the product of idle minds and feelings, +which have for their object to tickle similar idle minds and feelings. +Our arts and sciences are incomprehensible, and say nothing to the +people, for they have not the welfare of the common people in view. + +Ever since the life of men has been known to us, we find, always and +everywhere, the reigning doctrine falsely designating itself as science, +not manifesting itself to the common people, but obscuring for them the +meaning of life. Thus it was among the Greeks the sophists, then among +the Christians the mystics, gnostics, scholastics, among the Hebrews the +Talmudists and Cabalists, and so on everywhere, down to our own times. + +How fortunate it is for us that we live in so peculiar an age, when that +mental activity which calls itself science, not only does not err, but +finds itself, as we are assured, in a remarkably flourishing condition! +Does not this peculiar good fortune arise from the fact that man can not +and will not see his own hideousness? Why is there nothing left of those +sciences, and sophists, and Cabalists, and Talmudists, but words, while +we are so exceptionally happy? Surely the signs are identical. There is +the same self-satisfaction and blind confidence that we, precisely we, +and only we, are on the right path, and that the real thing is only +beginning with us. There is the same expectation that we shall discover +something remarkable; and that chief sign which leads us astray convicts +us of our error: all our wisdom remains with us, and the common people do +not understand, and do not accept, and do not need it. + +Our position is a very difficult one, but why not look at it squarely? + +It is time to recover our senses, and to scrutinize ourselves. Surely we +are nothing else than the scribes and Pharisees, who sit in Moses' seat, +and who have taken the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and will neither go +in ourselves, nor permit others to go in. Surely we, the high priests of +science and art, are ourselves worthless deceivers, possessing much less +right to our position than the most crafty and depraved priests. Surely +we have no justification for our privileged position. The priests had a +right to their position: they declared that they taught the people life +and salvation. But we have taken their place, and we do not instruct the +people in life,--we even admit that such instruction is unnecessary,--but +we educate our children in the same Talmudic-Greek and Latin grammar, in +order that they may be able to pursue the same life of parasites which we +lead ourselves. We say, "There used to be castes, but there are none +among us." But what does it mean, that some people and their children +toil, while other people and their children do not toil? + +Bring hither an Indian ignorant of our language, and show him European +life, and our life, for several generations, and he will recognize the +same leading, well-defined castes--of laborers and non-laborers--as there +are in his own country. And as in his land, so in ours, the right of +refusing to labor is conferred by a peculiar consecration, which we call +science and art, or, in general terms, culture. It is this culture, and +all the distortions of sense connected with it, which have brought us to +that marvellous madness, in consequence of which we do not see that which +is so clear and indubitable. + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Then, what is to be done? What are we to do? + +This question, which includes within itself both an admission that our +life is evil and wrong, and in connection with this,--as though it were +an exercise for it,--that it is impossible, nevertheless, to change it, +this question I have heard, and I continue to hear, on all sides. I have +described my own sufferings, my own gropings, and my own solution of this +question. I am the same kind of a man as everybody else; and if I am in +any wise distinguished from the average man of our circle, it is chiefly +in this respect, that I, more than the average man, have served and +winked at the false doctrine of our world; I have received more +approbation from men professing the prevailing doctrine: and therefore, +more than others, have I become depraved, and wandered from the path. And +therefore I think that the solution of the problem, which I have found in +my own case, will be applicable to all sincere people who are propounding +the same question to themselves. + +First of all, in answer to the question, "What is to be done?" I told +myself: "I must lie neither to other people nor to myself. I must not +fear the truth, whithersoever it may lead me." + +We all know what it means to lie to other people, but we are not afraid +to lie to ourselves; yet the very worst downright lie, to other people, +is not to be compared in its consequences with the lie to ourselves, upon +which we base our whole life. + +This is the lie of which we must not be guilty if we are to be in a +position to answer the question: "What is to be done?" And, in fact, how +am I to answer the question, "What is to be done?" when every thing that +I do, when my whole life, is founded on a lie, and when I carefully +parade this lie as the truth before others and before myself? Not to +lie, in this sense, means not to fear the truth, not to devise +subterfuges, and not to accept the subterfuges devised by others for the +purpose of hiding from myself the deductions of my reason and my +conscience; not to fear to part company with all those who surround me, +and to remain alone in company with reason and conscience; not to fear +that position to which the truth shall lead me, being firmly convinced +that that position to which truth and conscience shall conduct me, +however singular it may be, cannot be worse than the one which is founded +on a lie. Not to lie, in our position of privileged persons of mental +labor, means, not to be afraid to reckon one's self up wrongly. It is +possible that you are already so deeply indebted that you cannot take +stock of yourself; but to whatever extent this may be the case, however +long may be the account, however far you have strayed from the path, it +is still better than to continue therein. A lie to other people is not +alone unprofitable; every matter is settled more directly and more +speedily by the truth than by a lie. A lie to others only entangles +matters, and delays the settlement; but a lie to one's self, set forth as +the truth, ruins a man's whole life. If a man, having entered on the +wrong path, assumes that it is the true one, then every step that he +takes on that path removes him farther from his goal. If a man who has +long been travelling on this false path divines for himself, or is +informed by some one, that his course is a mistaken one, but grows +alarmed at the idea that he has wandered very far astray and tries to +convince himself that he may, possibly, still strike into the right road, +then he never will get into it. If a man quails before the truth, and, +on perceiving it, does not accept it, but does accept a lie for the +truth, then he never will learn what he ought to do. We, the not only +wealthy, but privileged and so-called cultivated persons, have advanced +so far on the wrong road, that a great deal of determination, or a very +great deal of suffering on the wrong road, is required, in order to bring +us to our senses and to the acknowledgment of the lie in which we are +living. I have perceived the lie of our lives, thanks to the sufferings +which the false path entailed upon me, and, having recognized the +falseness of this path on which I stood, I have had the boldness to go at +first in thought only--whither reason and conscience led me, without +reflecting where they would bring me out. And I have been rewarded for +this boldness. + +All the complicated, broken, tangled, and incoherent phenomena of life +surrounding me, have suddenly become clear; and my position in the midst +of these phenomena, which was formerly strange and burdensome, has +become, all at once, natural, and easy to bear. + +In this new position, my activity was defined with perfect accuracy; not +at all as it had previously presented itself to me, but as a new and much +more peaceful, loving, and joyous activity. The very thing which had +formerly terrified me, now began to attract me. Hence I think, that the +man who will honestly put to himself the question, "What is to be done?" +and, replying to this query, will not lie to himself, but will go whither +his reason leads, has already solved the problem. + +There is only one thing that can hinder him in his search for an +issue,--an erroneously lofty idea of himself and of his position. This +was the case with me; and then another, arising from the first answer to +the question: "What is to be done?" consisted for me in this, that it was +necessary for me to repent, in the full sense of that word,--i.e., to +entirely alter my conception of my position and my activity; to confess +the hurtfulness and emptiness of my activity, instead of its utility and +gravity; to confess my own ignorance instead of culture; to confess my +immorality and harshness in the place of my kindness and morality; +instead of my elevation, to acknowledge my lowliness. I say, that in +addition to not lying to myself, I had to repent, because, although the +one flows from the other, a false conception of my lofty importance had +so grown up with me, that, until I sincerely repented and cut myself free +from that false estimate which I had formed of myself, I did not perceive +the greater part of the lie of which I had been guilty to myself. Only +when I had repented, that is to say, when I had ceased to look upon +myself as a regular man, and had begun to regard myself as a man exactly +like every one else,--only then did my path become clear before me. +Before that time I had not been able to answer the question: "What is to +be done?" because I had stated the question itself wrongly. + +As long as I did not repent, I put the question thus: "What sphere of +activity should I choose, I, the man who has received the education and +the talents which have fallen to my shame? How, in this fashion, make +recompense with that education and those talents, for what I have taken, +and for what I still take, from the people?" This question was wrong, +because it contained a false representation, to the effect that I was not +a man just like them, but a peculiar man called to serve the people with +those talents and with that education which I had won by the efforts of +forty years. + +I propounded the query to myself; but, in reality, I had answered it in +advance, in that I had in advance defined the sort of activity which was +agreeable to me, and by which I was called upon to serve the people. I +had, in fact, asked myself: "In what manner could I, so very fine a +writer, who had acquired so much learning and talents, make use of them +for the benefit of the people?" + +But the question should have been put as it would have stood for a +learned rabbi who had gone through the course of the Talmud, and had +learned by heart the number of letters in all the holy books, and all the +fine points of his art. The question for me, as for the rabbi, should +stand thus: "What am I, who have spent, owing to the misfortune of my +surroundings, the year's best fitted for study in the acquisition of +grammar, geography, judicial science, poetry, novels and romances, the +French language, pianoforte playing, philosophical theories, and military +exercises, instead of inuring myself to labor; what am I, who have passed +the best years of my life in idle occupations which are corrupting to the +soul,--what am I to do in defiance of these unfortunate conditions of the +past, in order that I may requite those people who during the whole time +have fed and clothed, yes, and who even now continue to feed and clothe +me?" Had the question then stood as it stands before me now, after I +have repented,--"What am I, so corrupt a man, to do?" the answer would +have been easy: "To strive, first of all, to support myself honestly; +that is, to learn not to live upon others; and while I am learning, and +when I have learned this, to render aid on all possible occasions to the +people, with my hands, and my feet, and my brain, and my heart, and with +every thing to which the people should present a claim." + +And therefore I say, that for the man of our circle, in addition to not +lying to himself or to others, repentance is also necessary, and that he +should scrape from himself that pride which has sprung up in us, in our +culture, in our refinements, in our talents; and that he should confess +that he is not a benefactor of the people and a distinguished man, who +does not refuse to share with the people his useful acquirements, but +that he should confess himself to be a thoroughly guilty, corrupt, and +good-for-nothing man, who desires to reform himself and not to behave +benevolently towards the people, but simply to cease wounding and +insulting them. + +I often hear the questions of good young men who sympathize with the +renunciatory part of my writings, and who ask, "Well, and what then shall +I do? What am I to do, now that I have finished my course in the +university, or in some other institution, in order that I may be of use?" +Young men ask this, and in the depths of their soul it is already decided +that the education which they have received constitutes their privilege +and that they desire to serve the people precisely by means of thus +superiority. And hence, one thing which they will in no wise do, is to +bear themselves honestly and critically towards that which they call +their culture, and ask themselves, are those qualities which they call +their culture good or bad? If they will do this, they will infallibly be +led to see the necessity of renouncing their culture, and the necessity +of beginning to learn all over again; and this is the one indispensable +thing. They can in no wise solve the problem, "What to do?" because this +question does not stand before them as it should stand. The question +must stand thus: "In what manner am I, a helpless, useless man, who, +owing to the misfortune of my conditions, have wasted my best years of +study in conning the scientific Talmud which corrupts soul and body, to +correct this mistake, and learn to serve the people?" But it presents +itself to them thus: "How am I, a man who has acquired so much very fine +learning, to turn this very fine learning to the use of the people?" And +such a man will never answer the question, "What is to be done?" until he +repents. And repentance is not terrible, just as truth is not terrible, +and it is equally joyful and fruitful. It is only necessary to accept +the truth wholly, and to repent wholly, in order to understand that no +one possesses any rights, privileges, or peculiarities in the matter of +this life of ours, but that there are no ends or bounds to obligation, +and that a man's first and most indubitable duty is to take part in the +struggle with nature for his own life and for the lives of others. + +And this confession of a man's obligation constitutes the gist of the +third answer to the question, "What is to be done?" + +I tried not to lie to myself: I tried to cast out from myself the remains +of my false conceptions of the importance of my education and talents, +and to repent; but on the way to a decision of the question, "What to +do?" a fresh difficulty arose. There are so many different occupations, +that an indication was necessary as to the precise one which was to be +adopted. And the answer to this question was furnished me by sincere +repentance for the evil in which I had lived. + +"What to do? Precisely what to do?" all ask, and that is what I also +asked so long as, under the influence of my exalted idea of any own +importance, I did not perceive that my first and unquestionable duty was +to feed myself, to clothe myself, to furnish my own fuel, to do my own +building, and, by so doing, to serve others, because, ever since the +would has existed, the first and indubitable duty of every man has +consisted and does consist in this. + +In fact, no matter what a man may have assumed to be his +vocation,--whether it be to govern people, to defend his +fellow-countrymen, to divine service, to instruct others, to invent means +to heighten the pleasures of life, to discover the laws of the world, to +incorporate eternal truths in artistic representations,--the duty of a +reasonable man is to take part in the struggle with nature, for the +sustenance of his own life and of that of others. This obligation is the +first of all, because what people need most of all is their life; and +therefore, in order to defend and instruct the people, and render their +lives more agreeable, it is requisite to preserve that life itself, while +my refusal to share in the struggle, my monopoly of the labors of others, +is equivalent to annihilation of the lives of others. And, therefore, it +is not rational to serve the lives of men by annihilating the lives of +men; and it is impossible to say that I am serving men, when, by my life, +I am obviously injuring them. + +A man's obligation to struggle with nature for the acquisition of the +means of livelihood will always be the first and most unquestionable of +all obligations, because this obligation is a law of life, departure from +which entails the inevitable punishment of either bodily or mental +annihilation of the life of man. If a man living alone excuses himself +from the obligation of struggling with nature, he is immediately +punished, in that his body perishes. But if a man excuses himself from +this obligation by making other people fulfil it for him, then also he is +immediately punished by the annihilation of his mental life; that is to +say, of the life which possesses rational thought. + +In this one act, man receives--if the two things are to be separated--full +satisfaction of the bodily and spiritual demands of his nature. The +feeding, clothing, and taking care of himself and his family, constitute +the satisfaction of the bodily demands and requirements; and doing the +same for other people, constitutes the satisfaction of his spiritual +requirements. Every other employment of man is only legal when it is +directed to the satisfaction of this very first duty of man; for the +fulfilment of this duty constitutes the whole life of man. + +I had been so turned about by my previous life, this first and +indubitable law of God or of nature is so concealed in our sphere of +society, that the fulfilment of this law seemed to me strange, terrible, +even shameful; as though the fulfilment of an eternal, unquestionable +law, and not the departure from it, can be terrible, strange, and +shameful. + +At first it seemed to me that the fulfilment of this matter required some +preparation, arrangement or community of men, holding similar views,--the +consent of one's family, life in the country; it seemed to me disgraceful +to make a show of myself before people, to undertake a thing so improper +in our conditions of existence, as bodily toil, and I did not know how to +set about it. But it was only necessary for me to understand that this +is no exclusive occupation which requires to be invented and arranged +for, but that this employment was merely a return from the false position +in which I found myself, to a natural one; was only a rectification of +that lie in which I was living. I had only to recognize this fact, and +all these difficulties vanished. It was not in the least necessary to +make preparations and arrangements, and to await the consent of others, +for, no matter in what position I had found myself, there had always been +people who had fed, clothed and warmed me, in addition to themselves; and +everywhere, under all conditions, I could do the same for myself and for +them, if I had the time and the strength. Neither could I experience +false shame in an unwonted occupation, no matter how surprising it might +be to people, because, through not doing it, I had already experienced +not false but real shame. + +And when I had reached this confession and the practical deduction from +it, I was fully rewarded for not having quailed before the deductions of +reason, and for following whither they led me. On arriving at this +practical deduction, I was amazed at the ease and simplicity with which +all the problems which had previously seemed to me so difficult and so +complicated, were solved. + +To the question, "What is it necessary to do?" the most indubitable +answer presented itself: first of all, that which it was necessary for me +to do was, to attend to my own samovar, my own stove, my own water, my +own clothing; to every thing that I could do for myself. To the +question, "Will it not seem strange to people if you do this?" it +appeared that this strangeness lasted only a week, and after the lapse of +that week, it would have seemed strange had I returned to my former +conditions of life. With regard to the question, "Is it necessary to +organize this physical labor, to institute an association in the country, +on my land?" it appeared that nothing of the sort was necessary; that +labor, if it does not aim at the acquisition of all possible leisure, and +the enjoyment of the labor of others,--like the labor of people bent on +accumulating money,--but if it have for its object the satisfaction of +requirements, will itself be drawn from the city to the country, to the +land, where this labor is the most fruitful and cheerful. But it is not +requisite to institute any association, because the man who labors, +naturally and of himself, attaches himself to the existing association of +laboring men. + +To the question, whether this labor would not monopolize all my time, and +deprive me of those intellectual pursuits which I love, to which I am +accustomed, and which, in my moments of self-conceit, I regard as not +useless to others? I received a most unexpected reply. The energy of my +intellectual activity increased, and increased in exact proportion with +bodily application, while freeing itself from every thing superfluous. It +appeared that by dedicating to physical toil eight hours, that half of +the day which I had formerly passed in the oppressive state of a struggle +with _ennui_, eight hours remained to me, of which only five of +intellectual activity, according to my terms, were necessary to me. For +it appeared, that if I, a very voluminous writer, who had done nothing +for nearly forty years except write, and who had written three hundred +printed sheets;--if I had worked during all those forty years at ordinary +labor with the working-people, then, not reckoning winter evenings and +leisure days, if I had read and studied for five hours every day, and had +written a couple of pages only on holidays (and I have been in the habit +of writing at the rate of one printed sheet a day), then I should have +written those three hundred sheets in fourteen years. The fact seemed +startling: yet it is the most simple arithmetical calculation, which can +be made by a seven-year-old boy, but which I had not been able to make up +to this time. There are twenty-four hours in the day; if we take away +eight hours, sixteen remain. If any man engaged in intellectual +occupations devote five hours every day to his occupation, he will +accomplish a fearful amount. And what is to be done with the remaining +eleven hours? + +It proved that physical labor not only does not exclude the possibility +of mental activity, but that it improves its quality, and encourages it. + +In answer to the question, whether this physical toil does not deprive me +of many innocent pleasures peculiar to man, such as the enjoyment of the +arts, the acquisition of learning, intercourse with people, and the +delights of life in general, it turned out exactly the reverse: the more +intense the labor, the more nearly it approached what is considered the +coarsest agricultural toil, the more enjoyment and knowledge did I gain, +and the more did I come into close and loving communion with men, and the +more happiness did I derive from life. + +In answer to the question (which I have so often heard from persons not +thoroughly sincere), as to what result could flow from so insignificant a +drop in the sea of sympathy as my individual physical labor in the sea of +labor ingulfing me, I received also the most satisfactory and unexpected +of answers. It appeared that all I had to do was to make physical labor +the habitual condition of my life, and the majority of my false, but +precious, habits and my demands, when physically idle, fell away from me +at once of their own accord, without the slightest exertion on my part. +Not to mention the habit of turning day into night and _vice versa_, my +habits connected with my bed, with my clothing, with conventional +cleanliness,--which are downright impossible and oppressive with physical +labor,--and my demands as to the quality of my food, were entirely +changed. In place of the dainty, rich, refined, complicated, +highly-spiced food, to which I had formerly inclined, the most simple +viands became needful and most pleasing of all to me,--cabbage-soup, +porridge, black bread, and tea _v prikusku_. {238} So that, not to +mention the influence upon me of the example of the simple +working-people, who are content with little, with whom I came in contact +in the course of my bodily toil, my very requirements underwent a change +in consequence of my toilsome life; so that my drop of physical labor in +the sea of universal labor became larger and larger, in proportion as I +accustomed myself to, and appropriated, the habits of the laboring +classes; in proportion, also, to the success of my labor, my demands for +labor from others grew less and less, and my life naturally, without +exertion or privations, approached that simple existence of which I could +not even dream without fulfilling the law of labor. + +It proved that my dearest demands from life, namely, my demands for +vanity, and diversion from _ennui_, arose directly from my idle life. +There was no place for vanity, in connection with physical labor; and no +diversions were needed, since my time was pleasantly occupied, and, after +my fatigue, simple rest at tea over a book, or in conversation with my +fellows, was incomparably more agreeable than theatres, cards, conceits, +or a large company,--all which things are needed in physical idleness, +and which cost a great deal. + +In answer to the question, Would not this unaccustomed toil ruin that +health which is indispensable in order to render service to the people +possible? it appeared, in spite of the positive assertions of noted +physicians, that physical exertion, especially at my age, might have the +most injurious consequences (but that Swedish gymnastics, the massage +treatment, and so on, and other expedients intended to take the place of +the natural conditions of man's life, were better), that the more intense +the toil, the stronger, more alert, more cheerful, and more kindly did I +feel. Thus it undoubtedly appeared, that, just as all those cunning +devices of the human mind, newspapers, theatres, concerts, visits, balls, +cards, journals, romances, are nothing else than expedients for +maintaining the spiritual life of man outside his natural conditions of +labor for others,--just so all the hygienic and medical devices of the +human mind for the preparation of food, drink, lodging, ventilation, +heating, clothing, medicine, water, massage, gymnastics, electric, and +other means of healing,--all these clever devices are merely an expedient +to sustain the bodily life of man removed from its natural conditions of +labor. It turned out that all these devices of the human mind for the +agreeable arrangement of the physical existence of idle persons are +precisely analogous to those artful contrivances which people might +invent for the production in vessels hermetically sealed, by means of +mechanical arrangements, of evaporation, and plants, of the air best +fitted for breathing, when all that is needed is to open the window. All +the inventions of medicine and hygiene for persons of our sphere are much +the same as though a mechanic should hit upon the idea of heating a steam- +boiler which was not working, and should shut all the valves so that the +boiler should not burst. Only one thing is needed, instead of all these +extremely complicated devices for pleasure, for comfort, and for medical +and hygienic preparations, intended to save people from their spiritual +and bodily ailments, which swallow up so much labor,--to fulfil the law +of life; to do that which is proper not only to man, but to the animal; +to fire off the charge of energy taken win in the shape of food, by +muscular exertion; to speak in plain language, to earn one's bread. Those +who do not work should not eat, or they should earn as much as they have +eaten. + +And when I clearly comprehended all this, it struck me as ridiculous. +Through a whole series of doubts and searchings, I had arrived, by a long +course of thought, at this remarkable truth: if a man has eyes, it is +that he may see with them; if he has ears, that he may hear; and feet, +that he may walk; and hands and back, that he may labor; and that if a +man will not employ those members for that purpose for which they are +intended, it will be the worse for him. + +I came to this conclusion, that, with us privileged people, the same +thing has happened which happened with the horses of a friend of mine. +His steward, who was not a lover of horses, nor well versed in them, on +receiving his master's orders to place the best horses in the stable, +selected them from the stud, placed them in stalls, and fed and watered +them; but fearing for the valuable steeds, he could not bring himself to +trust them to any one, and he neither rode nor drove them, nor did he +even take them out. The horses stood there until they were good for +nothing. The same thing has happened with us, but with this difference: +that it was impossible to deceive the horses in any way, and they were +kept in bonds to prevent their getting out; but we are kept in an +unnatural position that is equally injurious to us, by deceits which have +entangled us, and which hold us like chains. + +We have arranged for ourselves a life that is repugnant both to the moral +and the physical nature of man, and all the powers of our intelligence we +concentrate upon assuring man that this is the most natural life +possible. Every thing which we call culture,--our sciences, art, and the +perfection of the pleasant thing's of life,--all these are attempts to +deceive the moral requirements of man; every thing that is called hygiene +and medicine, is an attempt to deceive the natural physical demands of +human nature. But these deceits have their bounds, and we advance to +them. "If such be the real human life, then it is better not to live at +all," says the reigning and extremely fashionable philosophy of +Schopenhauer and Hartmann. If such is life, 'tis better for the coming +generation not to live," say corrupt medical science and its newly +devised means to that end. + +In the Bible, it is laid down as the law of man: "In the sweat of thy +face shalt thou eat bread, and in sorrow thou shalt bring forth +children;" but "_nous avons change tout ca_," as Moliere's character +says, when expressing himself with regard to medicine, and asserting that +the liver was on the left side. We have changed all that. Men need not +work in order to eat, and women need not bear children. + +A ragged peasant roams the Krapivensky district. During the war he was +an agent for the purchase of grain, under an official of the commissary +department. On being brought in contact with the official, and seeing +his luxurious life, the peasant lost his mind, and thought that he might +get along without work, like gentlemen, and receive proper support from +the Emperor. This peasant now calls himself "the Most Serene Warrior, +Prince Blokhin, purveyor of war supplies of all descriptions." He says +of himself that he has "passed through all the ranks," and that when he +shall have served out his term in the army, he is to receive from the +Emperor an unlimited bank account, clothes, uniforms, horses, equipages, +tea, pease and servants, and all sorts of luxuries. This man is +ridiculous in the eyes of many, but to me the significance of his madness +is terrible. To the question, whether he does not wish to work, he +always replies proudly: "I am much obliged. The peasants will attend to +all that." When you tell him that the peasants do not wish to work, +either, he answers: "It is not difficult for the peasant." + +He generally talks in a high-flown style, and is fond of verbal +substantives. "Now there is an invention of machinery for the +alleviation of the peasants," he says; "there is no difficulty for them +in that." When he is asked what he lives for, he replies, "To pass the +time." I always look on this man as on a mirror. I behold in him myself +and all my class. To pass through all the ranks (_tchini_) in order to +live for the purpose of passing the time, and to receive an unlimited +bank account, while the peasants, for whom this is not difficult, because +of the invention of machinery, do the whole business,--this is the +complete formula of the idiotic creed of the people of our sphere in +society. + +When we inquire precisely what we are to do, surely, we ask nothing, but +merely assert--only not in such good faith as the Most Serene Prince +Blokhin, who has been promoted through all ranks, and lost his mind--that +we do not wish to do any thing. + +He who will reflect for a moment cannot ask thus, because, on the one +hand, every thing that he uses has been made, and is made, by the hands +of men; and, on the other side, as soon as a healthy man has awakened and +eaten, the necessity of working with feet and hands and brain makes +itself felt. In order to find work and to work, he need only not hold +back: only a person who thinks work disgraceful--like the lady who +requests her guest not to take the trouble to open the door, but to wait +until she can call a man for this purpose--can put to himself the +question, what he is to do. + +The point does not lie in inventing work,--you can never get through all +the work that is to be done for yourself and for others,--but the point +lies in weaning one's self from that criminal view of life in accordance +with which I eat and sleep for my own pleasure; and in appropriating to +myself that just and simple view with which the laboring man grows up and +lives,--that man is, first of all, a machine, which loads itself with +food in order to sustain itself, and that it is therefore disgraceful, +wrong, and impossible to eat and not to work; that to eat and not to work +is the most impious, unnatural, and, therefore, dangerous position, in +the nature of the sin of Sodom. Only let this acknowledgement be made, +and there will be work; and work will always be joyous and satisfying to +both spiritual and bodily requirements. + +The matter presented itself to me thus: The day is divided for every man, +by food itself, into four parts, or four stints, as the peasants call it: +(1) before breakfast; (2) from breakfast until dinner; (3) from dinner +until four o'clock; (4) from four o'clock until evening. + +A man's employment, whatever it may be that he feels a need for in his +own person, is also divided into four categories: (1) the muscular +employment of power, labor of the hands, feet, shoulders, back,--hard +labor, from which you sweat; (2) the employment of the fingers and +wrists, the employment of artisan skill; (3) the employment of the mind +and imagination; (4) the employment of intercourse with others. + +The benefits which man enjoys are also divided into four categories. +Every man enjoys, in the first place, the product of hard labor,--grain, +cattle, buildings, wells, ponds, and so forth; in the second place, the +results of artisan toil,--clothes, boots, utensils, and so forth; in the +third place, the products of mental activity,--science, art; and, in the +forth place, established intercourse between people. + +And it struck me, that the best thing of all would be to arrange the +occupations of the day in such a manner as to exercise all four of man's +capacities, and myself produce all these four sorts of benefits which men +make use of, so that one portion of the day, the first, should be +dedicated to hard labor; the second, to intellectual labor; the third, to +artisan labor; and the forth, to intercourse with people. It struck me, +that only then would that false division of labor, which exists in our +society, be abrogated, and that just division of labor established, which +does not destroy man's happiness. + +I, for example, have busied myself all my life with intellectual labor. I +said to myself, that I had so divided labor, that writing, that is to +say, intellectual labor, is my special employment, and the other matters +which were necessary to me I had left free (or relegated, rather) to +others. But this, which would appear to have been the most advantageous +arrangement for intellectual toil, was precisely the most disadvantageous +to mental labor, not to mention its injustice. + +All my life long, I have regulated my whole life, food, sleep, diversion, +in view of these hours of special labor, and I have done nothing except +this work. The result of this has been, in the first place, that I have +contracted my sphere of observations and knowledge, and have frequently +had no means for the study even of problems which often presented +themselves in describing the life of the people (for the life of the +common people is the every-day problem of intellectual activity). I was +conscious of my ignorance, and was obliged to obtain instruction, to ask +about things which are known by every man not engaged in special labor. +In the second place, the result was, that I had been in the habit of +sitting down to write when I had no inward impulse to write, and when no +one demanded from me writing, as writing, that is to say, my thoughts, +but when my name was merely wanted for journalistic speculation. I tried +to squeeze out of myself what I could. Sometimes I could extract +nothing; sometimes it was very wretched stuff, and I was dissatisfied and +grieved. But now that I have learned the indispensability of physical +labor, both hard and artisan labor, the result is entirely different. My +time has been occupied, however modestly, at least usefully and +cheerfully, and in a manner instructive to me. And therefore I have torn +myself from that indubitably useful and cheerful occupation for my +special duties only when I felt an inward impulse, and when I saw a +demand made upon me directly for my literary work. + +And these demands called into play only good nature, and therefore the +usefulness and the joy of my special labor. Thus it turned out, that +employment in those physical labors which are indispensable to me, as +they are to every man, not only did not interfere with my special +activity, but was an indispensable condition of the usefulness, worth, +and cheerfulness of that activity. + +The bird is so constructed, that it is indispensable that it should fly, +walk, peek, combine; and when it does all this, it is satisfied and +happy,--then it is a bird. Just so man, when he walks, turns, raises, +drags, works with his fingers, with his eyes, with his ears, with his +tongue, with his brain,--only then is he satisfied, only then is he a +man. + +A man who acknowledges his appointment to labor will naturally strive +towards that rotation of labor which is peculiar to him, for the +satisfaction of his inward requirements; and he can alter this labor in +no other way than when he feels within himself an irresistible summons to +some exclusive form of labor, and when the demands of other men for that +labor are expressed. + +The character of labor is such, that the satisfaction of all a man's +requirements demands that same succession of the sorts of work which +renders work not a burden but a joy. Only a false creed, [Greek text +which cannot be reproduced], to the effect that labor is a curse, could +have led men to rid themselves of certain kinds of work; i.e., to the +appropriation of the work of others, demanding the forced occupation with +special labor of other people, which they call division of labor. + +We have only grown used to our false comprehension of the regulation of +labor, because it seems to us that the shoemaker, the machinist, the +writer, or the musician will be better off if he gets rid of the labor +peculiar to man. Where there is no force exercised over the labor of +others, or any false belief in the joy of idleness, not a single man will +get rid of physical labor, necessary for the satisfaction of his +requirements, for the sake of special work; because special work is not a +privilege, but a sacrifice which man offers to inward pressure and to his +brethren. + +The shoemaker in the country, who abandons his wonted labor in the field, +which is so grateful to him, and betakes himself to his trade, in order +to repair or make boots for his neighbors, always deprives himself of the +pleasant toil of the field, simply because he likes to make boots, +because he knows that no one else can do it so well as he, and that +people will be grateful to him for it; but the desire cannot occur to +him, to deprive himself, for the whole period of his life, of the +cheering rotation of labor. + +It is the same with the _starosta_ [village elder], the machinist, the +writer, the learned man. To us, with our corrupt conception of things, +it seems, that if a steward has been relegated to the position of a +peasant by his master, or if a minister has been sent to the colonies, he +has been chastised, he has been ill-treated. But in reality a benefit +has been conferred on him; that is to say, his special, hard labor has +been changed into a cheerful rotation of labor. In a naturally +constituted society, this is quite otherwise. I know of one community +where the people supported themselves. One of the members of this +society was better educated than the rest; and they called upon him to +read, so that he was obliged to prepare himself during the day, in order +that he might read in the evening. This he did gladly, feeling that he +was useful to others, and that he was performing a good deed. But he +grew weary of exclusively intellectual work, and his health suffered from +it. The members of the community took pity on him, and requested him to +go to work in the fields. + +For men who regard labor as the substance and the joy of life, the basis, +the foundation of life will always be the struggle with nature,--labor +both agricultural and mechanical, and intellectual, and the establishment +of communion between men. Departure from one or from many of these +varieties of labor, and the adoption of special labor, will then only +occur when the man possessed of a special branch, and loving this work, +and knowing that he can perform it better than others, sacrifices his own +profit for the satisfaction of the direct demands made upon him. Only on +condition of such a view of labor, and of the natural division of labor +arising from it, is that curse which is laid upon our idea of labor +abrogated, and does every sort of work becomes always a joy; because a +man will either perform that labor which is undoubtedly useful and +joyous, and not dull, or he will possess the consciousness of +self-abnegation in the fulfilment of more difficult and restricted toil, +which he exercises for the good of others. + +But the division of labor is more profitable. More profitable for whom? +It is more profitable in making the greatest possible quantity of calico, +and boots in the shortest possible time. But who will make these boots +and this calico? There are people who, for whole generations, make only +the heads of pins. Then how can this be more profitable for men? If the +point lies in manufacturing as much calico and as many pins as possible, +then this is so. But the point concerns men and their welfare. And the +welfare of men lies in life. And life is work. How, then, can the +necessity for burdensome, oppressive toil be more profitable for people? +For all men, that one thing is more profitable which I desire for +myself,--the utmost well-being, and the gratification of all those +requirements, both bodily and spiritual, of the conscience and of the +reason, which are imposed upon me. And in my own case I have found, that +for my own welfare, and for the satisfaction of these needs of mine, all +that I require is to cure myself of that folly in which I had been +living, in company with the Krapivensky madman, and which consisted in +presupposing that some people need not work, and that certain other +people should direct all this, and that I should therefore do only that +which is natural to man, i.e., labor for the satisfaction of their +requirements; and, having discovered this, I convinced myself that labor +for the satisfaction of one's own needs falls of itself into various +kinds of labor, each one of which possesses its own charm, and which not +only do not constitute a burden, but which serve as a respite to one +another. I have made a rough division of this labor (not insisting on +the justice of this arrangement), in accordance with my own needs in +life, into four parts, corresponding to the four stints of labor of which +the day is composed; and I seek in this manner to satisfy my +requirements. + +These, then, are the answers which I have found for myself to the +question, "What is to be done?" + +_First_, Not to lie to myself, however far removed my path in life may be +from the true path which my reason discloses to me. + +_Second_, To renounce my consciousness of my own righteousness, my +superiority especially over other people; and to acknowledge my guilt. + +_Third_, To comply with that eternal and indubitable law of humanity,--the +labor of my whole being, feeling no shame at any sort of work; to contend +with nature for the maintenance of my own life and the lives of others. + + + + +Footnotes: + + +{169} An omission by the censor, which I am unable to supply. TRANS. + +{178} We designate as organisms the elephant and the bacterian, only +because we assume by analogy in those creatures the same conjunction of +feeling and consciousness that we know to exist in ourselves. But in +human societies and in humanity, this actual sign is absent; and +therefore, however many other signs we may discover in humanity and in +organism, without this substantial token the recognition of humanity as +an organism is incorrect. + +{238} _v prikusku_, when a lump of sugar is held in the teeth instead or +being put into the tea. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON THE SIGNIFICANCE OF SCIENCE AND +ART*** + + +******* This file should be named 3631.txt or 3631.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/6/3/3631 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +Project Gutenberg's The Kreutzer Sonata and Other Stories, by Leo Tolstoi + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Kreutzer Sonata and Other Stories + +Author: Leo Tolstoi + +Release Date: March 18, 2006 [EBook #689] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KREUTZER SONATA *** + + + + +Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger + + + + + +THE KREUTZER SONATA AND OTHER STORIES + +By Count Leo Tolstoi + + +Author of "Resurrection," "Life is Worth Living," "Ivan the Fool," Etc. + + + +CONTENTS. + + +TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. + +KREUTZER SONATA. + +IVAN THE FOOL. + +A LOST OPPORTUNITY. + +POLIKUSHKA + +THE CANDLE. + + + + + +TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. + +On comparing with the original Russian some English translations of +Count Tolstoi's works, published both in this country and in England, I +concluded that they were far from being accurate. The majority of them +were retranslations from the French, and I found that the respective +transitions through which they had passed tended to obliterate many of +the beauties of the Russian language and of the peculiar characteristics +of Russian life. A satisfactory translation can be made only by one who +understands the language and SPIRIT of the Russian people. As Tolstoi's +writings contain so many idioms it is not an easy task to render them +into intelligible English, and the one who successfully accomplishes +this must be a native of Russia, commanding the English and Russian +languages with equal fluency. + +The story of "Ivan the Fool" portrays Tolstoi's communistic ideas, +involving the abolition of military forces, middlemen, despotism, and +money. Instead of these he would establish on earth a kingdom in which +each and every person would become a worker and producer. The author +describes the various struggles through which three brothers passed, +beset as they were by devils large and small, until they reached the +ideal state of existence which he believes to be the only happy one +attainable in this world. + +On reading this little story one is surprised that the Russian censor +passed it, as it is devoted to a narration of ideas quite at variance +with the present policy of the government of that country. + +"A Lost Opportunity" is a singularly true picture of peasant life, which +evinces a deep study of the subject on the part of the writer. Tolstoi +has drawn many of the peculiar customs of the Russian peasant in a +masterly manner, and I doubt if he has given a more comprehensive +description of this feature of Russian life in any of his other works. +In this story also he has presented many traits which are common to +human nature throughout the world, and this gives an added interest to +the book. The language is simple and picturesque, and the characters are +drawn with remarkable fidelity to nature. The moral of this tale points +out how the hero Ivan might have avoided the terrible consequences of a +quarrel with his neighbor (which grew out of nothing) if he had lived in +accordance with the scriptural injunction to forgive his brother's sins +and seek not for revenge. + +The story of "Polikushka" is a very graphic description of the life led +by a servant of the court household of a certain nobleman, in which the +author portrays the different conditions and surroundings enjoyed by +these servants from those of the ordinary or common peasants. It is a +true and powerful reproduction of an element in Russian life but little +written about heretofore. Like the other stories of this great writer, +"Polikushka" has a moral to which we all might profitably give heed. He +illustrates the awful consequences of intemperance, and concludes that +only kind treatment can reform the victims of alcohol. + +For much valuable assistance in the work of these translations, I am +deeply indebted to the bright English scholarship of my devoted wife. + + + + +THE KREUTZER SONATA. + + + +CHAPTER I. + +Travellers left and entered our car at every stopping of the train. +Three persons, however, remained, bound, like myself, for the farthest +station: a lady neither young nor pretty, smoking cigarettes, with +a thin face, a cap on her head, and wearing a semi-masculine outer +garment; then her companion, a very loquacious gentleman of about forty +years, with baggage entirely new and arranged in an orderly manner; +then a gentleman who held himself entirely aloof, short in stature, very +nervous, of uncertain age, with bright eyes, not pronounced in color, +but extremely attractive,--eyes that darted with rapidity from one +object to another. + +This gentleman, during almost all the journey thus far, had entered into +conversation with no fellow-traveller, as if he carefully avoided all +acquaintance. When spoken to, he answered curtly and decisively, and +began to look out of the car window obstinately. + +Yet it seemed to me that the solitude weighed upon him. He seemed to +perceive that I understood this, and when our eyes met, as happened +frequently, since we were sitting almost opposite each other, he turned +away his head, and avoided conversation with me as much as with the +others. At nightfall, during a stop at a large station, the gentleman +with the fine baggage--a lawyer, as I have since learned--got out with +his companion to drink some tea at the restaurant. During their absence +several new travellers entered the car, among whom was a tall old man, +shaven and wrinkled, evidently a merchant, wearing a large heavily-lined +cloak and a big cap. This merchant sat down opposite the empty seats of +the lawyer and his companion, and straightway entered into conversation +with a young man who seemed like an employee in some commercial house, +and who had likewise just boarded the train. At first the clerk had +remarked that the seat opposite was occupied, and the old man had +answered that he should get out at the first station. Thus their +conversation started. + +I was sitting not far from these two travellers, and, as the train was +not in motion, I could catch bits of their conversation when others were +not talking. + +They talked first of the prices of goods and the condition of business; +they referred to a person whom they both knew; then they plunged into +the fair at Nijni Novgorod. The clerk boasted of knowing people who were +leading a gay life there, but the old man did not allow him to continue, +and, interrupting him, began to describe the festivities of the previous +year at Kounavino, in which he had taken part. He was evidently proud +of these recollections, and, probably thinking that this would detract +nothing from the gravity which his face and manners expressed, he +related with pride how, when drunk, he had fired, at Kounavino, such a +broadside that he could describe it only in the other's ear. + +The clerk began to laugh noisily. The old man laughed too, showing two +long yellow teeth. Their conversation not interesting me, I left the car +to stretch my legs. At the door I met the lawyer and his lady. + +"You have no more time," the lawyer said to me. "The second bell is +about to ring." + +Indeed I had scarcely reached the rear of the train when the bell +sounded. As I entered the car again, the lawyer was talking with his +companion in an animated fashion. The merchant, sitting opposite them, +was taciturn. + +"And then she squarely declared to her husband," said the lawyer with a +smile, as I passed by them, "that she neither could nor would live with +him, because" . . . + +And he continued, but I did not hear the rest of the sentence, my +attention being distracted by the passing of the conductor and a new +traveller. When silence was restored, I again heard the lawyer's +voice. The conversation had passed from a special case to general +considerations. + +"And afterward comes discord, financial difficulties, disputes between +the two parties, and the couple separate. In the good old days that +seldom happened. Is it not so?" asked the lawyer of the two merchants, +evidently trying to drag them into the conversation. + +Just then the train started, and the old man, without answering, took +off his cap, and crossed himself three times while muttering a prayer. +When he had finished, he clapped his cap far down on his head, and said: + +"Yes, sir, that happened in former times also, but not as often. In the +present day it is bound to happen more frequently. People have become +too learned." + +The lawyer made some reply to the old man, but the train, ever +increasing its speed, made such a clatter upon the rails that I could +no longer hear distinctly. As I was interested in what the old man was +saying, I drew nearer. My neighbor, the nervous gentleman, was evidently +interested also, and, without changing his seat, he lent an ear. + +"But what harm is there in education?" asked the lady, with a smile that +was scarcely perceptible. "Would it be better to marry as in the old +days, when the bride and bridegroom did not even see each other before +marriage?" she continued, answering, as is the habit of our ladies, not +the words that her interlocutor had spoken, but the words she believed +he was going to speak. "Women did not know whether they would love or +would be loved, and they were married to the first comer, and suffered +all their lives. Then you think it was better so?" she continued, +evidently addressing the lawyer and myself, and not at all the old man. + +"People have become too learned," repeated the last, looking at the lady +with contempt, and leaving her question unanswered. + +"I should be curious to know how you explain the correlation between +education and conjugal differences," said the lawyer, with a slight +smile. + +The merchant wanted to make some reply, but the lady interrupted him. + +"No, those days are past." + +The lawyer cut short her words:-- + +"Let him express his thought." + +"Because there is no more fear," replied the old man. + +"But how will you marry people who do not love each other? Only +animals can be coupled at the will of a proprietor. But people have +inclinations, attachments," the lady hastened to say, casting a glance +at the lawyer, at me, and even at the clerk, who, standing up +and leaning his elbow on the back of a seat, was listening to the +conversation with a smile. + +"You are wrong to say that, madam," said the old man. "The animals are +beasts, but man has received the law." + +"But, nevertheless, how is one to live with a man when there is no +love?" said the lady, evidently excited by the general sympathy and +attention. + +"Formerly no such distinctions were made," said the old man, gravely. +"Only now have they become a part of our habits. As soon as the least +thing happens, the wife says: 'I release you. I am going to leave your +house.' Even among the moujiks this fashion has become acclimated. +'There,' she says, 'here are your shirts and drawers. I am going off +with Vanka. His hair is curlier than yours.' Just go talk with them. And +yet the first rule for the wife should be fear." + +The clerk looked at the lawyer, the lady, and myself, evidently +repressing a smile, and all ready to deride or approve the merchant's +words, according to the attitude of the others. + +"What fear?" said the lady. + +"This fear,--the wife must fear her husband; that is what fear." + +"Oh, that, my little father, that is ended." + +"No, madam, that cannot end. As she, Eve, the woman, was taken from +man's ribs, so she will remain unto the end of the world," said the old +man, shaking his head so triumphantly and so severely that the clerk, +deciding that the victory was on his side, burst into a loud laugh. + +"Yes, you men think so," replied the lady, without surrendering, and +turning toward us. "You have given yourself liberty. As for woman, you +wish to keep her in the seraglio. To you, everything is permissible. Is +it not so?" + +"Oh, man,--that's another affair." + +"Then, according to you, to man everything is permissible?" + +"No one gives him this permission; only, if the man behaves badly +outside, the family is not increased thereby; but the woman, the wife, +is a fragile vessel," continued the merchant, severely. + +His tone of authority evidently subjugated his hearers. Even the lady +felt crushed, but she did not surrender. + +"Yes, but you will admit, I think, that woman is a human being, and has +feelings like her husband. What should she do if she does not love her +husband?" + +"If she does not love him!" repeated the old man, stormily, and knitting +his brows; "why, she will be made to love him." + +This unexpected argument pleased the clerk, and he uttered a murmur of +approbation. + +"Oh, no, she will not be forced," said the lady. "Where there is no +love, one cannot be obliged to love in spite of herself." + +"And if the wife deceives her husband, what is to be done?" said the +lawyer. + +"That should not happen," said the old man. "He must have his eyes about +him." + +"And if it does happen, all the same? You will admit that it does +happen?" + +"It happens among the upper classes, not among us," answered the old +man. "And if any husband is found who is such a fool as not to rule his +wife, he will not have robbed her. But no scandal, nevertheless. Love +or not, but do not disturb the household. Every husband can govern his +wife. He has the necessary power. It is only the imbecile who does not +succeed in doing so." + +Everybody was silent. The clerk moved, advanced, and, not wishing to lag +behind the others in the conversation, began with his eternal smile: + +"Yes, in the house of our employer, a scandal has arisen, and it is very +difficult to view the matter clearly. The wife loved to amuse herself, +and began to go astray. He is a capable and serious man. First, it was +with the book-keeper. The husband tried to bring her back to reason +through kindness. She did not change her conduct. She plunged into all +sorts of beastliness. She began to steal his money. He beat her, but +she grew worse and worse. To an unbaptized, to a pagan, to a Jew (saving +your permission), she went in succession for her caresses. What could +the employer do? He has dropped her entirely, and now he lives as a +bachelor. As for her, she is dragging in the depths." + +"He is an imbecile," said the old man. "If from the first he had not +allowed her to go in her own fashion, and had kept a firm hand upon her, +she would be living honestly, no danger. Liberty must be taken away from +the beginning. Do not trust yourself to your horse upon the highway. Do +not trust yourself to your wife at home." + +At that moment the conductor passed, asking for the tickets for the next +station. The old man gave up his. + +"Yes, the feminine sex must be dominated in season, else all will +perish." + +"And you yourselves, at Kounavino, did you not lead a gay life with the +pretty girls?" asked the lawyer with a smile. + +"Oh, that's another matter," said the merchant, severely. "Good-by," +he added, rising. He wrapped himself in his cloak, lifted his cap, and, +taking his bag, left the car. + +CHAPTER II. + +Scarcely had the old man gone when a general conversation began. + +"There's a little Old Testament father for you," said the clerk. + +"He is a Domostroy,"* said the lady. "What savage ideas about a woman +and marriage!" + + *The Domostroy is a matrimonial code of the days of Ivan the + Terrible. + +"Yes, gentlemen," said the lawyer, "we are still a long way from the +European ideas upon marriage. First, the rights of woman, then free +marriage, then divorce, as a question not yet solved." . . . + +"The main thing, and the thing which such people as he do not +understand," rejoined the lady, "is that only love consecrates marriage, +and that the real marriage is that which is consecrated by love." + +The clerk listened and smiled, with the air of one accustomed to store +in his memory all intelligent conversation that he hears, in order to +make use of it afterwards. + +"But what is this love that consecrates marriage?" said, suddenly, the +voice of the nervous and taciturn gentleman, who, unnoticed by us, had +approached. + +He was standing with his hand on the seat, and evidently agitated. His +face was red, a vein in his forehead was swollen, and the muscles of his +cheeks quivered. + +"What is this love that consecrates marriage?" he repeated. + +"What love?" said the lady. "The ordinary love of husband and wife." + +"And how, then, can ordinary love consecrate marriage?" continued the +nervous gentleman, still excited, and with a displeased air. He seemed +to wish to say something disagreeable to the lady. She felt it, and +began to grow agitated. + +"How? Why, very simply," said she. + +The nervous gentleman seized the word as it left her lips. + +"No, not simply." + +"Madam says," interceded the lawyer indicating his companion, "that +marriage should be first the result of an attachment, of a love, if +you will, and that, when love exists, and in that case only, marriage +represents something sacred. But every marriage which is not based on +a natural attachment, on love, has in it nothing that is morally +obligatory. Is not that the idea that you intended to convey?" he asked +the lady. + +The lady, with a nod of her head, expressed her approval of this +translation of her thoughts. + +"Then," resumed the lawyer, continuing his remarks. + +But the nervous gentleman, evidently scarcely able to contain himself, +without allowing the lawyer to finish, asked: + +"Yes, sir. But what are we to understand by this love that alone +consecrates marriage?" + +"Everybody knows what love is," said the lady. + +"But I don't know, and I should like to know how you define it." + +"How? It is very simple," said the lady. + +And she seemed thoughtful, and then said: + +"Love . . . love . . . is a preference for one man or one woman to the +exclusion of all others. . . ." + +"A preference for how long? . . . For a month, two days, or half an +hour?" said the nervous gentleman, with special irritation. + +"No, permit me, you evidently are not talking of the same thing." + +"Yes, I am talking absolutely of the same thing. Of the preference +for one man or one woman to the exclusion of all others. But I ask: a +preference for how long?" + +"For how long? For a long time, for a life-time sometimes." + +"But that happens only in novels. In life, never. In life this +preference for one to the exclusion of all others lasts in rare cases +several years, oftener several months, or even weeks, days, +hours. . . ." + +"Oh, sir. Oh, no, no, permit me," said all three of us at the same time. + +The clerk himself uttered a monosyllable of disapproval. + +"Yes, I know," he said, shouting louder than all of us; "you are talking +of what is believed to exist, and I am talking of what is. Every man +feels what you call love toward each pretty woman he sees, and very +little toward his wife. That is the origin of the proverb,--and it is +a true one,--'Another's wife is a white swan, and ours is bitter +wormwood."' + +"Ah, but what you say is terrible! There certainly exists among human +beings this feeling which is called love, and which lasts, not for +months and years, but for life." + +"No, that does not exist. Even if it should be admitted that Menelaus +had preferred Helen all his life, Helen would have preferred Paris; and +so it has been, is, and will be eternally. And it cannot be otherwise, +just as it cannot happen that, in a load of chick-peas, two peas marked +with a special sign should fall side by side. Further, this is not only +an improbability, but it is certain that a feeling of satiety will come +to Helen or to Menelaus. The whole difference is that to one it comes +sooner, to the other later. It is only in stupid novels that it is +written that 'they loved each other all their lives.' And none but +children can believe it. To talk of loving a man or woman for life is +like saying that a candle can burn forever." + +"But you are talking of physical love. Do you not admit a love based +upon a conformity of ideals, on a spiritual affinity?" + +"Why not? But in that case it is not necessary to procreate together +(excuse my brutality). The point is that this conformity of ideals is +not met among old people, but among young and pretty persons," said he, +and he began to laugh disagreeably. + +"Yes, I affirm that love, real love, does not consecrate marriage, as we +are in the habit of believing, but that, on the contrary, it ruins it." + +"Permit me," said the lawyer. "The facts contradict your words. We +see that marriage exists, that all humanity--at least the larger +portion--lives conjugally, and that many husbands and wives honestly end +a long life together." + +The nervous gentleman smiled ill-naturedly. + +"And what then? You say that marriage is based upon love, and when I +give voice to a doubt as to the existence of any other love than sensual +love, you prove to me the existence of love by marriage. But in our day +marriage is only a violence and falsehood." + +"No, pardon me," said the lawyer. "I say only that marriages have +existed and do exist." + +"But how and why do they exist? They have existed, and they do exist, +for people who have seen, and do see, in marriage something sacramental, +a sacrament that is binding before God. For such people marriages exist, +but to us they are only hypocrisy and violence. We feel it, and, to +clear ourselves, we preach free love; but, really, to preach free love +is only a call backward to the promiscuity of the sexes (excuse me, +he said to the lady), the haphazard sin of certain raskolniks. The old +foundation is shattered; we must build a new one, but we must not preach +debauchery." + +He grew so warm that all became silent, looking at him in astonishment. + +"And yet the transition state is terrible. People feel that haphazard +sin is inadmissible. It is necessary in some way or other to regulate +the sexual relations; but there exists no other foundation than the old +one, in which nobody longer believes? People marry in the old fashion, +without believing in what they do, and the result is falsehood, +violence. When it is falsehood alone, it is easily endured. The husband +and wife simply deceive the world by professing to live monogamically. +If they really are polygamous and polyandrous, it is bad, but +acceptable. But when, as often happens, the husband and the wife have +taken upon themselves the obligation to live together all their lives +(they themselves do not know why), and from the second month have +already a desire to separate, but continue to live together just the +same, then comes that infernal existence in which they resort to drink, +in which they fire revolvers, in which they assassinate each other, in +which they poison each other." + +All were silent, but we felt ill at ease. + +"Yes, these critical episodes happen in marital life. For instance, +there is the Posdnicheff affair," said the lawyer, wishing to stop the +conversation on this embarrassing and too exciting ground. "Have you +read how he killed his wife through jealousy?" + +The lady said that she had not read it. The nervous gentleman said +nothing, and changed color. + +"I see that you have divined who I am," said he, suddenly, after a +pause. + +"No, I have not had that pleasure." + +"It is no great pleasure. I am Posdnicheff." + +New silence. He blushed, then turned pale again. + +"What matters it, however?" said he. "Excuse me, I do not wish to +embarrass you." + +And he resumed his old seat. + + + +CHAPTER III. + +I resumed mine, also. The lawyer and the lady whispered together. I was +sitting beside Posdnicheff, and I maintained silence. I desired to talk +to him, but I did not know how to begin, and thus an hour passed until +we reached the next station. + +There the lawyer and the lady went out, as well as the clerk. We were +left alone, Posdnicheff and I. + +"They say it, and they lie, or they do not understand," said +Posdnicheff. + +"Of what are you talking?" + +"Why, still the same thing." + +He leaned his elbows upon his knees, and pressed his hands against his +temples. + +"Love, marriage, family,--all lies, lies, lies." + +He rose, lowered the lamp-shade, lay down with his elbows on the +cushion, and closed his eyes. He remained thus for a minute. + +"Is it disagreeable to you to remain with me, now that you know who I +am?" + +"Oh, no." + +"You have no desire to sleep?" + +"Not at all." + +"Then do you want me to tell you the story of my life?" + +Just then the conductor passed. He followed him with an ill-natured +look, and did not begin until he had gone again. Then during all the +rest of the story he did not stop once. Even the new travellers as they +entered did not stop him. + +His face, while he was talking, changed several times so completely +that it bore positively no resemblance to itself as it had appeared just +before. His eyes, his mouth, his moustache, and even his beard, all were +new. Each time it was a beautiful and touching physiognomy, and these +transformations were produced suddenly in the penumbra; and for five +minutes it was the same face, that could not be compared to that of five +minutes before. And then, I know not how, it changed again, and became +unrecognizable. + + +CHAPTER IV. + +"Well, I am going then to tell you my life, and my whole frightful +history,--yes, frightful. And the story itself is more frightful than +the outcome." + +He became silent for a moment, passed his hands over his eyes, and +began:-- + +"To be understood clearly, the whole must be told from the beginning. It +must be told how and why I married, and what I was before my marriage. +First, I will tell you who I am. The son of a rich gentleman of the +steppes, an old marshal of the nobility, I was a University pupil, a +graduate of the law school. I married in my thirtieth year. But before +talking to you of my marriage, I must tell you how I lived formerly, +and what ideas I had of conjugal life. I led the life of so many other +so-called respectable people,--that is, in debauchery. And like the +majority, while leading the life of a debauche, I was convinced that I +was a man of irreproachable morality. + +"The idea that I had of my morality arose from the fact that in my +family there was no knowledge of those special debaucheries, so common +in the surroundings of land-owners, and also from the fact that my +father and my mother did not deceive each other. In consequence of this, +I had built from childhood a dream of high and poetical conjugal +life. My wife was to be perfection itself, our mutual love was to be +incomparable, the purity of our conjugal life stainless. I thought thus, +and all the time I marvelled at the nobility of my projects. + +"At the same time, I passed ten years of my adult life without hurrying +toward marriage, and I led what I called the well-regulated and +reasonable life of a bachelor. I was proud of it before my friends, +and before all men of my age who abandoned themselves to all sorts of +special refinements. I was not a seducer, I had no unnatural tastes, +I did not make debauchery the principal object of my life; but I found +pleasure within the limits of society's rules, and innocently believed +myself a profoundly moral being. The women with whom I had relations did +not belong to me alone, and I asked of them nothing but the pleasure of +the moment. + +"In all this I saw nothing abnormal. On the contrary, from the fact +that I did not engage my heart, but paid in cash, I supposed that I was +honest. I avoided those women who, by attaching themselves to me, or +presenting me with a child, could bind my future. Moreover, perhaps +there may have been children or attachments; but I so arranged matters +that I could not become aware of them. + +"And living thus, I considered myself a perfectly honest man. I did not +understand that debauchery does not consist simply in physical +acts, that no matter what physical ignominy does not yet constitute +debauchery, and that real debauchery consists in freedom from the moral +bonds toward a woman with whom one enters into carnal relations, and I +regarded THIS FREEDOM as a merit. I remember that I once tortured myself +exceedingly for having forgotten to pay a woman who probably had given +herself to me through love. I only became tranquil again when, having +sent her the money, I had thus shown her that I did not consider myself +as in any way bound to her. Oh, do not shake your head as if you were +in agreement with me (he cried suddenly with vehemence). I know these +tricks. All of you, and you especially, if you are not a rare exception, +have the same ideas that I had then. If you are in agreement with me, it +is now only. Formerly you did not think so. No more did I; and, if I had +been told what I have just told you, that which has happened would not +have happened. However, it is all the same. Excuse me (he continued): +the truth is that it is frightful, frightful, frightful, this abyss +of errors and debaucheries in which we live face to face with the real +question of the rights of woman." . . . + +"What do you mean by the 'real' question of the rights of woman?" + +"The question of the nature of this special being, organized otherwise +than man, and how this being and man ought to view the wife. . . ." + + + +CHAPTER V. + +"Yes: for ten years I lived the most revolting existence, while dreaming +of the noblest love, and even in the name of that love. Yes, I want +to tell you how I killed my wife, and for that I must tell you how I +debauched myself. I killed her before I knew her. + +"I killed THE wife when I first tasted sensual joys without love, and +then it was that I killed MY wife. Yes, sir: it is only after having +suffered, after having tortured myself, that I have come to understand +the root of things, that I have come to understand my crimes. Thus you +will see where and how began the drama that has led me to misfortune. + +"It is necessary to go back to my sixteenth year, when I was still at +school, and my elder brother a first-year student. I had not yet known +women but, like all the unfortunate children of our society, I was +already no longer innocent. I was tortured, as you were, I am sure, and +as are tortured ninety-nine one-hundredths of our boys. I lived in a +frightful dread, I prayed to God, and I prostrated myself. + +"I was already perverted in imagination, but the last steps remained to +be taken. I could still escape, when a friend of my brother, a very +gay student, one of those who are called good fellows,--that is, the +greatest of scamps,--and who had taught us to drink and play cards, took +advantage of a night of intoxication to drag us THERE. We started. +My brother, as innocent as I, fell that night, and I, a mere lad of +sixteen, polluted myself and helped to pollute a sister-woman, without +understanding what I did. Never had I heard from my elders that what I +thus did was bad. It is true that there are the ten commandments of +the Bible; but the commandments are made only to be recited before +the priests at examinations, and even then are not as exacting as the +commandments in regard to the use of ut in conditional propositions. + +"Thus, from my elders, whose opinion I esteemed, I had never heard +that this was reprehensible. On the contrary, I had heard people whom +I respected say that it was good. I had heard that my struggles and my +sufferings would be appeased after this act. I had heard it and read it. +I had heard from my elders that it was excellent for the health, and my +friends have always seemed to believe that it contained I know not what +merit and valor. So nothing is seen in it but what is praiseworthy. +As for the danger of disease, it is a foreseen danger. Does not the +government guard against it? And even science corrupts us." + +"How so, science?" I asked. + +"Why, the doctors, the pontiffs of science. Who pervert young people +by laying down such rules of hygiene? Who pervert women by devising and +teaching them ways by which not to have children? + +"Yes: if only a hundredth of the efforts spent in curing diseases were +spent in curing debauchery, disease would long ago have ceased to exist, +whereas now all efforts are employed, not in extirpating debauchery, +but in favoring it, by assuring the harmlessness of the consequences. +Besides, it is not a question of that. It is a question of this +frightful thing that has happened to me, as it happens to nine-tenths, +if not more, not only of the men of our society, but of all societies, +even peasants,--this frightful thing that I had fallen, and not because +I was subjected to the natural seduction of a certain woman. No, no +woman seduced me. I fell because the surroundings in which I found +myself saw in this degrading thing only a legitimate function, useful +to the health; because others saw in it simply a natural amusement, not +only excusable, but even innocent in a young man. I did not understand +that it was a fall, and I began to give myself to those pleasures +(partly from desire and partly from necessity) which I was led to +believe were characteristic of my age, just as I had begun to drink and +smoke. + +"And yet there was in this first fall something peculiar and touching. I +remember that straightway I was filled with such a profound sadness that +I had a desire to weep, to weep over the loss forever of my relations +with woman. Yes, my relations with woman were lost forever. Pure +relations with women, from that time forward, I could no longer have. +I had become what is called a voluptuary; and to be a voluptuary is a +physical condition like the condition of a victim of the morphine habit, +of a drunkard, and of a smoker. + +"Just as the victim of the morphine habit, the drunkard, the smoker, is +no longer a normal man, so the man who has known several women for +his pleasure is no longer normal? He is abnormal forever. He is a +voluptuary. Just as the drunkard and the victim of the morphine habit +may be recognized by their face and manner, so we may recognize a +voluptuary. He may repress himself and struggle, but nevermore will he +enjoy simple, pure, and fraternal relations toward woman. By his way of +glancing at a young woman one may at once recognize a voluptuary; and I +became a voluptuary, and I have remained one." + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +"Yes, so it is; and that went farther and farther with all sorts of +variations. My God! when I remember all my cowardly acts and bad deeds, +I am frightened. And I remember that 'me' who, during that period, was +still the butt of his comrades' ridicule on account of his innocence. + +"And when I hear people talk of the gilded youth, of the officers, of +the Parisians, and all these gentlemen, and myself, living wild lives +at the age of thirty, and who have on our consciences hundreds of +crimes toward women, terrible and varied, when we enter a parlor or a +ball-room, washed, shaven, and perfumed, with very white linen, in dress +coats or in uniform, as emblems of purity, oh, the disgust! There +will surely come a time, an epoch, when all these lives and all this +cowardice will be unveiled! + +"So, nevertheless, I lived, until the age of thirty, without abandoning +for a minute my intention of marrying, and building an elevated conjugal +life; and with this in view I watched all young girls who might suit me. +I was buried in rottenness, and at the same time I looked for virgins, +whose purity was worthy of me! Many of them were rejected: they did not +seem to me pure enough! + +"Finally I found one that I considered on a level with myself. She was +one of two daughters of a landed proprietor of Penza, formerly very rich +and since ruined. To tell the truth, without false modesty, they pursued +me and finally captured me. The mother (the father was away) laid all +sorts of traps, and one of these, a trip in a boat, decided my future. + +"I made up my mind at the end of the aforesaid trip one night, by +moonlight, on our way home, while I was sitting beside her. I admired +her slender body, whose charming shape was moulded by a jersey, and her +curling hair, and I suddenly concluded that THIS WAS SHE. It seemed to +me on that beautiful evening that she understood all that I thought and +felt, and I thought and felt the most elevating things. + +"Really, it was only the jersey that was so becoming to her, and her +curly hair, and also the fact that I had spent the day beside her, and +that I desired a more intimate relation. + +"I returned home enthusiastic, and I persuaded myself that she realized +the highest perfection, and that for that reason she was worthy to be my +wife, and the next day I made to her a proposal of marriage. + +"No, say what you will, we live in such an abyss of falsehood, that, +unless some event strikes us a blow on the head, as in my case, we +cannot awaken. What confusion! Out of the thousands of men who marry, +not only among us, but also among the people, scarcely will you find +a single one who has not previously married at least ten times. (It is +true that there now exist, at least so I have heard, pure young people +who feel and know that this is not a joke, but a serious matter. May God +come to their aid! But in my time there was not to be found one such in +a thousand.) + +"And all know it, and pretend not to know it. In all the novels are +described down to the smallest details the feelings of the characters, +the lakes and brambles around which they walk; but, when it comes to +describing their GREAT love, not a word is breathed of what HE, the +interesting character, has previously done, not a word about +his frequenting of disreputable houses, or his association with +nursery-maids, cooks, and the wives of others. + +"And if anything is said of these things, such IMPROPER novels are not +allowed in the hands of young girls. All men have the air of believing, +in presence of maidens, that these corrupt pleasures, in which EVERYBODY +takes part, do not exist, or exist only to a very small extent. They +pretend it so carefully that they succeed in convincing themselves of +it. As for the poor young girls, they believe it quite seriously, just +as my poor wife believed it. + +"I remember that, being already engaged, I showed her my 'memoirs,' from +which she could learn more or less of my past, and especially my last +liaison which she might perhaps have discovered through the gossip of +some third party. It was for this last reason, for that matter, that I +felt the necessity of communicating these memoirs to her. I can still +see her fright, her despair, her bewilderment, when she had learned and +understood it. She was on the point of breaking the engagement. What a +lucky thing it would have been for both of us!" + +Posdnicheff was silent for a moment, and then resumed:-- + +"After all, no! It is better that things happened as they did, better!" +he cried. "It was a good thing for me. Besides, it makes no difference. +I was saying that in these cases it is the poor young girls who are +deceived. As for the mothers, the mothers especially, informed by their +husbands, they know all, and, while pretending to believe in the purity +of the young man, they act as if they did not believe in it. + +"They know what bait must be held out to people for themselves and their +daughters. We men sin through ignorance, and a determination not to +learn. As for the women, they know very well that the noblest and most +poetic love, as we call it, depends, not on moral qualities, but on the +physical intimacy, and also on the manner of doing the hair, and the +color and shape. + +"Ask an experienced coquette, who has undertaken to seduce a man, which +she would prefer,--to be convicted, in presence of the man whom she is +engaged in conquering, of falsehood, perversity, cruelty, or to appear +before him in an ill-fitting dress, or a dress of an unbecoming color. +She will prefer the first alternative. She knows very well that we +simply lie when we talk of our elevated sentiments, that we seek only +the possession of her body, and that because of that we will forgive her +every sort of baseness, but will not forgive her a costume of an ugly +shade, without taste or fit. + +"And these things she knows by reason, where as the maiden knows them +only by instinct, like the animal. Hence these abominable jerseys, these +artificial humps on the back, these bare shoulders, arms, and throats. + +"Women, especially those who have passed through the school of marriage, +know very well that conversations upon elevated subjects are only +conversations, and that man seeks and desires the body and all that +ornaments the body. Consequently, they act accordingly? If we reject +conventional explanations, and view the life of our upper and lower +classes as it is, with all its shamelessness, it is only a vast +perversity. You do not share this opinion? Permit me, I am going to +prove it to you (said he, interrupting me). + +"You say that the women of our society live for a different interest +from that which actuates fallen women. And I say no, and I am going +to prove it to you. If beings differ from one another according to +the purpose of their life, according to their INNER LIFE, this will +necessarily be reflected also in their OUTER LIFE, and their exterior +will be very different. Well, then, compare the wretched, the despised, +with the women of the highest society: the same dresses, the same +fashions, the same perfumeries, the same passion for jewelry, for +brilliant and very expensive articles, the same amusements, dances, +music, and songs. The former attract by all possible means; so do the +latter. No difference, none whatever! + +"Yes, and I, too, was captivated by jerseys, bustles, and curly hair." + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +"And it was very easy to capture me, since I was brought up under +artificial conditions, like cucumbers in a hothouse. Our too abundant +nourishment, together with complete physical idleness, is nothing but +systematic excitement of the imagination. The men of our society are +fed and kept like reproductive stallions. It is sufficient to close the +valve,--that is, for a young man to live a quiet life for some +time,--to produce as an immediate result a restlessness, which, becoming +exaggerated by reflection through the prism of our unnatural life, +provokes the illusion of love. + +"All our idyls and marriage, all, are the result for the most part of +our eating. Does that astonish you? For my part, I am astonished that +we do not see it. Not far from my estate this spring some moujiks +were working on a railway embankment. You know what a peasant's food +is,--bread, kvass,* onions. With this frugal nourishment he lives, he is +alert, he makes light work in the fields. But on the railway this bill +of fare becomes cacha and a pound of meat. Only he restores this meat by +sixteen hours of labor pushing loads weighing twelve hundred pounds. + + *Kvass, a sort of cider. + +"And we, who eat two pounds of meat and game, we who absorb all sorts +of heating drinks and food, how do we expend it? In sensual excesses. +If the valve is open, all goes well; but close it, as I had closed it +temporarily before my marriage, and immediately there will result an +excitement which, deformed by novels, verses, music, by our idle and +luxurious life, will give a love of the finest water. I, too, fell in +love, as everybody does, and there were transports, emotions, poesy; but +really all this passion was prepared by mamma and the dressmakers. If +there had been no trips in boats, no well-fitted garments, etc., if +my wife had worn some shapeless blouse, and I had seen her thus at her +home, I should not have been seduced." + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +"And note, also, this falsehood, of which all are guilty; the way in +which marriages are made. What could there be more natural? The young +girl is marriageable, she should marry. What simpler, provided the young +person is not a monster, and men can be found with a desire to marry? +Well, no, here begins a new hypocrisy. + +"Formerly, when the maiden arrived at a favorable age, her marriage was +arranged by her parents. That was done, that is done still, throughout +humanity, among the Chinese, the Hindoos, the Mussulmans, and among our +common people also. Things are so managed in at least ninety-nine per +cent. of the families of the entire human race. + +"Only we riotous livers have imagined that this way was bad, and have +invented another. And this other,--what is it? It is this. The young +girls are seated, and the gentlemen walk up and down before them, as in +a bazaar, and make their choice. The maidens wait and think, but do +not dare to say: 'Take me, young man, me and not her. Look at these +shoulders and the rest.' We males walk up and down, and estimate the +merchandise, and then we discourse upon the rights of woman, upon the +liberty that she acquires, I know not how, in the theatrical halls." + +"But what is to be done?" said I to him. "Shall the woman make the +advances?" + +"I do not know. But, if it is a question of equality, let the equality +be complete. Though it has been found that to contract marriages through +the agency of match-makers is humiliating, it is nevertheless a thousand +times preferable to our system. There the rights and the chances are +equal; here the woman is a slave, exhibited in the market. But as she +cannot bend to her condition, or make advances herself, there begins +that other and more abominable lie which is sometimes called GOING INTO +SOCIETY, sometimes AMUSING ONE'S SELF, and which is really nothing but +the hunt for a husband. + +"But say to a mother or to her daughter that they are engaged only in a +hunt for a husband. God! What an offence! Yet they can do nothing else, +and have nothing else to do; and the terrible feature of it all is to +see sometimes very young, poor, and innocent maidens haunted solely by +such ideas. If only, I repeat, it were done frankly; but it is always +accompanied with lies and babble of this sort:-- + +"'Ah, the descent of species! How interesting it is!' + +"'Oh, Lily is much interested in painting.' + +"'Shall you go to the Exposition? How charming it is!' + +"'And the troika, and the plays, and the symphony. Ah, how adorable!' + +"'My Lise is passionately fond of music.' + +"'And you, why do you not share these convictions?' + +"And through all this verbiage, all have but one single idea: 'Take me, +take my Lise. No, me! Only try!"' + + +CHAPTER IX. + +"Do you know," suddenly continued Posdnicheff, "that this power of women +from which the world suffers arises solely from what I have just spoken +of?" + +"What do you mean by the power of women?" I said. "Everybody, on the +contrary, complains that women have not sufficient rights, that they are +in subjection." + +"That's it; that's it exactly," said he, vivaciously. "That is just what +I mean, and that is the explanation of this extraordinary phenomenon, +that on the one hand woman is reduced to the lowest degree of +humiliation and on the other hand she reigns over everything. See the +Jews: with their power of money, they avenge their subjection, just +as the women do. 'Ah! you wish us to be only merchants? All right; +remaining merchants, we will get possession of you,' say the Jews. 'Ah! +you wish us to be only objects of sensuality? All right; by the aid of +sensuality we will bend you beneath our yoke,' say the women. + +"The absence of the rights of woman does not consist in the fact that +she has not the right to vote, or the right to sit on the bench, but in +the fact that in her affectional relations she is not the equal of man, +she has not the right to abstain, to choose instead of being chosen. +You say that that would be abnormal. Very well! But then do not let man +enjoy these rights, while his companion is deprived of them, and finds +herself obliged to make use of the coquetry by which she governs, so +that the result is that man chooses 'formally,' whereas really it is +woman who chooses. As soon as she is in possession of her means, she +abuses them, and acquires a terrible supremacy." + +"But where do you see this exceptional power?" + +"Where? Why, everywhere, in everything. Go see the stores in the large +cities. There are millions there, millions. It is impossible to estimate +the enormous quantity of labor that is expended there. In nine-tenths +of these stores is there anything whatever for the use of men? All the +luxury of life is demanded and sustained by woman. Count the factories; +the greater part of them are engaged in making feminine ornaments. +Millions of men, generations of slaves, die toiling like convicts simply +to satisfy the whims of our companions. + +"Women, like queens, keep nine-tenths of the human race as prisoners of +war, or as prisoners at hard labor. And all this because they have been +humiliated, because they have been deprived of rights equal to those +which men enjoy. They take revenge for our sensuality; they catch us in +their nets. + +"Yes, the whole thing is there. Women have made of themselves such a +weapon to act upon the senses that a young man, and even an old man, +cannot remain tranquil in their presence. Watch a popular festival, or +our receptions or ball-rooms. Woman well knows her influence there. You +will see it in her triumphant smiles. + +"As soon as a young man advances toward a woman, directly he falls under +the influence of this opium, and loses his head. Long ago I felt ill at +ease when I saw a woman too well adorned,--whether a woman of the people +with her red neckerchief and her looped skirt, or a woman of our own +society in her ball-room dress. But now it simply terrifies me. I see in +it a danger to men, something contrary to the laws; and I feel a desire +to call a policeman, to appeal for defence from some quarter, to demand +that this dangerous object be removed. + +"And this is not a joke, by any means. I am convinced, I am sure, that +the time will come--and perhaps it is not far distant--when the world +will understand this, and will be astonished that a society could exist +in which actions as harmful as those which appeal to sensuality by +adorning the body as our companions do were allowed. As well set traps +along our public streets, or worse than that." + + +CHAPTER X. + +"That, then, was the way in which I was captured. I was in love, as +it is called; not only did she appear to me a perfect being, but I +considered myself a white blackbird. It is a commonplace fact that there +is no one so low in the world that he cannot find some one viler than +himself, and consequently puff with pride and self-contentment. I was in +that situation. I did not marry for money. Interest was foreign to the +affair, unlike the marriages of most of my acquaintances, who married +either for money or for relations. First, I was rich, she was poor. +Second, I was especially proud of the fact that, while others married +with an intention of continuing their polygamic life as bachelors, it +was my firm intention to live monogamically after my engagement and the +wedding, and my pride swelled immeasurably. + +"Yes, I was a wretch, convinced that I was an angel. The period of +my engagement did not last long. I cannot remember those days without +shame. What an abomination! + +"It is generally agreed that love is a moral sentiment, a community of +thought rather than of sense. If that is the case, this community of +thought ought to find expression in words and conversation. Nothing of +the sort. It was extremely difficult for us to talk with each other. +What a toil of Sisyphus was our conversation! Scarcely had we thought of +something to say, and said it, when we had to resume our silence and try +to discover new subjects. Literally, we did not know what to say to each +other. All that we could think of concerning the life that was before us +and our home was said. + +"And then what? If we had been animals, we should have known that we had +not to talk. But here, on the contrary, it was necessary to talk, and +there were no resources! For that which occupied our minds was not a +thing to be expressed in words. + +"And then that silly custom of eating bon-bons, that brutal gluttony +for sweetmeats, those abominable preparations for the wedding, those +discussions with mamma upon the apartments, upon the sleeping-rooms, +upon the bedding, upon the morning-gowns, upon the wrappers, the linen, +the costumes! Understand that if people married according to the old +fashion, as this old man said just now, then these eiderdown coverlets +and this bedding would all be sacred details; but with us, out of ten +married people there is scarcely to be found one who, I do not say +believes in sacraments (whether he believes or not is a matter of +indifference to us), but believes in what he promises. Out of a hundred +men, there is scarcely one who has not married before, and out of fifty +scarcely one who has not made up his mind to deceive his wife. + +"The great majority look upon this journey to the church as a condition +necessary to the possession of a certain woman. Think then of the +supreme significance which material details must take on. Is it not a +sort of sale, in which a maiden is given over to a debauche, the sale +being surrounded with the most agreeable details?" + + +CHAPTER XI. + +"All marry in this way. And I did like the rest. If the young people who +dream of the honeymoon only knew what a disillusion it is, and always a +disillusion! I really do not know why all think it necessary to conceal +it. + +"One day I was walking among the shows in Paris, when, attracted by a +sign, I entered an establishment to see a bearded woman and a water-dog. +The woman was a man in disguise, and the dog was an ordinary dog, +covered with a sealskin, and swimming in a bath. It was not in the least +interesting, but the Barnum accompanied me to the exit very courteously, +and, in addressing the people who were coming in, made an appeal to my +testimony. 'Ask the gentleman if it is not worth seeing! Come in, come +in! It only costs a franc!' And in my confusion I did not dare to answer +that there was nothing curious to be seen, and it was upon my false +shame that the Barnum must have counted. + +"It must be the same with the persons who have passed through the +abominations of the honeymoon. They do not dare to undeceive their +neighbor. And I did the same. + +"The felicities of the honeymoon do not exist. On the contrary, it is a +period of uneasiness, of shame, of pity, and, above all, of ennui,--of +ferocious ennui. It is something like the feeling of a youth when he is +beginning to smoke. He desires to vomit; he drivels, and swallows his +drivel, pretending to enjoy this little amusement. The vice of marriage +. . ." + +"What! Vice?" I said. "But you are talking of one of the most natural +things." + +"Natural!" said he. "Natural! No, I consider on the contrary that it +is against nature, and it is I, a perverted man, who have reached this +conviction. What would it be, then, if I had not known corruption? To +a young girl, to every unperverted young girl, it is an act extremely +unnatural, just as it is to children. My sister married, when very +young, a man twice her own age, and who was utterly corrupt. I remember +how astonished we were the night of her wedding, when, pale and covered +with tears, she fled from her husband, her whole body trembling, saying +that for nothing in the world would she tell what he wanted of her. + +"You say natural? It is natural to eat; that is a pleasant, agreeable +function, which no one is ashamed to perform from the time of his birth. +No, it is not natural. A pure young girl wants one thing,--children. +Children, yes, not a lover." . . . + +"But," said I, with astonishment, "how would the human race continue?" + +"But what is the use of its continuing?" he rejoined, vehemently. + +"What! What is the use? But then we should not exist." + +"And why is it necessary that we should exist?" + +"Why, to live, to be sure." + +"And why live? The Schopenhauers, the Hartmanns, and all the Buddhists, +say that the greatest happiness is Nirvana, Non-Life; and they are right +in this sense,--that human happiness is coincident with the annihilation +of 'Self.' Only they do not express themselves well. They say that +Humanity should annihilate itself to avoid its sufferings, that its +object should be to destroy itself. Now the object of Humanity cannot +be to avoid sufferings by annihilation, since suffering is the result +of activity. The object of activity cannot consist in suppressing its +consequences. The object of Man, as of Humanity, is happiness, and, to +attain it, Humanity has a law which it must carry out. This law consists +in the union of beings. This union is thwarted by the passions. And +that is why, if the passions disappear, the union will be accomplished. +Humanity then will have carried out the law, and will have no further +reason to exist." + +"And before Humanity carries out the law?" + +"In the meantime it will have the sign of the unfulfilled law, and +the existence of physical love. As long as this love shall exist, and +because of it, generations will be born, one of which will finally +fulfil the law. When at last the law shall be fulfilled, the Human Race +will be annihilated. At least it is impossible for us to conceive of +Life in the perfect union of people." + + +CHAPTER XII. + +"Strange theory!" cried I. + +"Strange in what? According to all the doctrines of the Church, the +world will have an end. Science teaches the same fatal conclusions. +Why, then, is it strange that the same thing should result from moral +Doctrine? 'Let those who can, contain,' said Christ. And I take this +passage literally, as it is written. That morality may exist between +people in their worldly relations, they must make complete chastity +their object. In tending toward this end, man humiliates himself. When +he shall reach the last degree of humiliation, we shall have moral +marriage. + +"But if man, as in our society, tends only toward physical love, though +he may clothe it with pretexts and the false forms of marriage, he will +have only permissible debauchery, he will know only the same immoral +life in which I fell and caused my wife to fall, a life which we call +the honest life of the family. Think what a perversion of ideas must +arise when the happiest situation of man, liberty, chastity, is looked +upon as something wretched and ridiculous. The highest ideal, the best +situation of woman, to be pure, to be a vestal, a virgin, excites fear +and laughter in our society. How many, how many young girls sacrifice +their purity to this Moloch of opinion by marrying rascals that they +may not remain virgins,--that is, superiors! Through fear of finding +themselves in that ideal state, they ruin themselves. + +"But I did not understand formerly, I did not understand that the words +of the Gospel, that 'he who looks upon a woman to lust after her has +already committed adultery,' do not apply to the wives of others, but +notably and especially to our own wives. I did not understand this, and +I thought that the honeymoon and all of my acts during that period +were virtuous, and that to satisfy one's desires with his wife is an +eminently chaste thing. Know, then, that I consider these departures, +these isolations, which young married couples arrange with the +permission of their parents, as nothing else than a license to engage in +debauchery. + +"I saw, then, in this nothing bad or shameful, and, hoping for great +joys, I began to live the honeymoon. And very certainly none of these +joys followed. But I had faith, and was determined to have them, +cost what they might. But the more I tried to secure them, the less +I succeeded. All this time I felt anxious, ashamed, and weary. Soon I +began to suffer. I believe that on the third or fourth day I found my +wife sad and asked her the reason. I began to embrace her, which in my +opinion was all that she could desire. She put me away with her hand, +and began to weep. + +"At what? She could not tell me. She was filled with sorrow, with +anguish. Probably her tortured nerves had suggested to her the truth +about the baseness of our relations, but she found no words in which to +say it. I began to question her; she answered that she missed her absent +mother. It seemed to me that she was not telling the truth. I sought to +console her by maintaining silence in regard to her parents. I did not +imagine that she felt herself simply overwhelmed, and that her parents +had nothing to do with her sorrow. She did not listen to me, and I +accused her of caprice. I began to laugh at her gently. She dried her +tears, and began to reproach me, in hard and wounding terms, for my +selfishness and cruelty. + +"I looked at her. Her whole face expressed hatred, and hatred of me. I +cannot describe to you the fright which this sight gave me. 'How? What?' +thought I, 'love is the unity of souls, and here she hates me? Me? Why? +But it is impossible! It is no longer she!' + +"I tried to calm her. I came in conflict with an immovable and cold +hostility, so that, having no time to reflect, I was seized with keen +irritation. We exchanged disagreeable remarks. The impression of this +first quarrel was terrible. I say quarrel, but the term is inexact. It +was the sudden discovery of the abyss that had been dug between us. Love +was exhausted with the satisfaction of sensuality. We stood face to +face in our true light, like two egoists trying to procure the greatest +possible enjoyment, like two individuals trying to mutually exploit each +other. + +"So what I called our quarrel was our actual situation as it appeared +after the satisfaction of sensual desire. I did not realize that this +cold hostility was our normal state, and that this first quarrel would +soon be drowned under a new flood of the intensest sensuality. I thought +that we had disputed with each other, and had become reconciled, and +that it would not happen again. But in this same honeymoon there came a +period of satiety, in which we ceased to be necessary to each other, and +a new quarrel broke out. + +"It became evident that the first was not a matter of chance. 'It was +inevitable,' I thought. This second quarrel stupefied me the more, +because it was based on an extremely unjust cause. It was something like +a question of money,--and never had I haggled on that score; it was even +impossible that I should do so in relation to her. I only remember that, +in answer to some remark that I made, she insinuated that it was my +intention to rule her by means of money, and that it was upon money +that I based my sole right over her. In short, something extraordinarily +stupid and base, which was neither in my character nor in hers. + +"I was beside myself. I accused her of indelicacy. She made the same +accusation against me, and the dispute broke out. In her words, in the +expression of her face, of her eyes, I noticed again the hatred that +had so astonished me before. With a brother, friends, my father, I had +occasionally quarrelled, but never had there been between us this fierce +spite. Some time passed. Our mutual hatred was again concealed beneath +an access of sensual desire, and I again consoled myself with the +reflection that these scenes were reparable faults. + +"But when they were repeated a third and a fourth time, I understood +that they were not simply faults, but a fatality that must happen again. +I was no longer frightened, I was simply astonished that I should be +precisely the one to live so uncomfortably with my wife, and that the +same thing did not happen in other households. I did not know that in +all households the same sudden changes take place, but that all, +like myself, imagine that it is a misfortune exclusively reserved for +themselves alone, which they carefully conceal as shameful, not only to +others, but to themselves, like a bad disease. + +"That was what happened to me. Begun in the early days, it continued and +increased with characteristics of fury that were ever more pronounced. +At the bottom of my soul, from the first weeks, I felt that I was in a +trap, that I had what I did not expect, and that marriage is not a joy, +but a painful trial. Like everybody else, I refused to confess it (I +should not have confessed it even now but for the outcome). Now I am +astonished to think that I did not see my real situation. It was so easy +to perceive it, in view of those quarrels, begun for reasons so trivial +that afterwards one could not recall them. + +"Just as it often happens among gay young people that, in the absence of +jokes, they laugh at their own laughter, so we found no reasons for our +hatred, and we hated each other because hatred was naturally boiling +up in us. More extraordinary still was the absence of causes for +reconciliation. + +"Sometimes words, explanations, or even tears, but sometimes, I +remember, after insulting words, there tacitly followed embraces and +declarations. Abomination! Why is it that I did not then perceive this +baseness?" + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +"All of us, men and women, are brought up in these aberrations of +feeling that we call love. I from childhood had prepared myself for this +thing, and I loved, and I loved during all my youth, and I was joyous in +loving. It had been put into my head that it was the noblest and highest +occupation in the world. But when this expected feeling came at last, +and I, a man, abandoned myself to it, the lie was pierced through and +through. Theoretically a lofty love is conceivable; practically it is +an ignoble and degrading thing, which it is equally disgusting to +talk about and to remember. It is not in vain that nature has made +ceremonies, but people pretend that the ignoble and the shameful is +beautiful and lofty. + +"I will tell you brutally and briefly what were the first signs of my +love. I abandoned myself to beastly excesses, not only not ashamed of +them, but proud of them, giving no thought to the intellectual life of +my wife. And not only did I not think of her intellectual life, I did +not even consider her physical life. + +"I was astonished at the origin of our hostility, and yet how clear it +was! This hostility is nothing but a protest of human nature against the +beast that enslaves it. It could not be otherwise. This hatred was the +hatred of accomplices in a crime. Was it not a crime that, this poor +woman having become pregnant in the first month, our liaison should have +continued just the same? + +"You imagine that I am wandering from my story. Not at all. I am always +giving you an account of the events that led to the murder of my wife. +The imbeciles! They think that I killed my wife on the 5th of October. +It was long before that that I immolated her, just as they all kill now. +Understand well that in our society there is an idea shared by all +that woman procures man pleasure (and vice versa, probably, but I know +nothing of that, I only know my own case). Wein, Weiber und Gesang. So +say the poets in their verses: Wine, women, and song! + +"If it were only that! Take all the poetry, the painting, the sculpture, +beginning with Pouschkine's 'Little Feet,' with 'Venus and Phryne,' and +you will see that woman is only a means of enjoyment. That is what she +is at Trouba,* at Gratchevka, and in a court ball-room. And think of +this diabolical trick: if she were a thing without moral value, it might +be said that woman is a fine morsel; but, in the first place, these +knights assure us that they adore woman (they adore her and look upon +her, however, as a means of enjoyment), then all assure us that they +esteem woman. Some give up their seats to her, pick up her handkerchief; +others recognize in her a right to fill all offices, participate in +government, etc., but, in spite of all that, the essential point remains +the same. She is, she remains, an object of sensual desire, and +she knows it. It is slavery, for slavery is nothing else than the +utilization of the labor of some for the enjoyment of others. That +slavery may not exist people must refuse to enjoy the labor of others, +and look upon it as a shameful act and as a sin. + + *A suburb of Moscow. + +"Actually, this is what happens. They abolish the external form, they +suppress the formal sales of slaves, and then they imagine and assure +others that slavery is abolished. They are unwilling to see that it +still exists, since people, as before, like to profit by the labor of +others, and think it good and just. This being given, there will always +be found beings stronger or more cunning than others to profit thereby. +The same thing happens in the emancipation of woman. At bottom feminine +servitude consists entirely in her assimilation with a means of +pleasure. They excite woman, they give her all sorts of rights equal to +those of men, but they continue to look upon her as an object of sensual +desire, and thus they bring her up from infancy and in public opinion. + +"She is always the humiliated and corrupt serf, and man remains always +the debauched Master. Yes, to abolish slavery, public opinion must admit +that it is shameful to exploit one's neighbor, and, to make woman free, +public opinion must admit that it is shameful to consider woman as an +instrument of pleasure. + +"The emancipation of woman is not to be effected in the public courts or +in the chamber of deputies, but in the sleeping chamber. Prostitution is +to be combated, not in the houses of ill-fame, but in the family. They +free woman in the public courts and in the chamber of deputies, but she +remains an instrument. Teach her, as she is taught among us, to look +upon herself as such, and she will always remain an inferior being. +Either, with the aid of the rascally doctors, she will try to prevent +conception, and descend, not to the level of an animal, but to the +level of a thing; or she will be what she is in the great majority of +cases,--sick, hysterical, wretched, without hope of spiritual progress." +. . . + +"But why that?" I asked. + +"Oh! the most astonishing thing is that no one is willing to see this +thing, evident as it is, which the doctors must understand, but which +they take good care not to do. Man does not wish to know the law of +nature,--children. But children are born and become an embarrassment. +Then man devises means of avoiding this embarrassment. We have not +yet reached the low level of Europe, nor Paris, nor the 'system of two +children,' nor Mahomet. We have discovered nothing, because we have +given it no thought. We feel that there is something bad in the two +first means; but we wish to preserve the family, and our view of woman +is still worse. + +"With us woman must be at the same time mistress and nurse, and her +strength is not sufficient. That is why we have hysteria, nervous +attacks, and, among the peasants, witchcraft. Note that among the young +girls of the peasantry this state of things does not exist, but only +among the wives, and the wives who live with their husbands. The reason +is clear, and this is the cause of the intellectual and moral decline of +woman, and of her abasement. + +"If they would only reflect what a grand work for the wife is the period +of gestation! In her is forming the being who continues us, and +this holy work is thwarted and rendered painful . . . by what? It is +frightful to think of it! And after that they talk of the liberties and +the rights of woman! It is like the cannibals fattening their prisoners +in order to devour them, and assuring these unfortunates at the same +time that their rights and their liberties are guarded!" + +All this was new to me, and astonished me very much. + +"But if this is so," said I, "it follows that one may love his wife only +once every two years; and as man" . . . + +"And as man has need of her, you are going to say. At least, so the +priests of science assure us. I would force these priests to fulfil the +function of these women, who, in their opinion, are necessary to man. I +wonder what song they would sing then. Assure man that he needs brandy, +tobacco, opium, and he will believe those poisons necessary. It follows +that God did not know how to arrange matters properly, since, without +asking the opinions of the priests, he has combined things as they are. +Man needs, so they have decided, to satisfy his sensual desire, and here +this function is disturbed by the birth and the nursing of children. + +"What, then, is to be done? Why, apply to the priests; they will arrange +everything, and they have really discovered a way. When, then, will +these rascals with their lies be uncrowned! It is high time. We have had +enough of them. People go mad, and shoot each other with revolvers, and +always because of that! And how could it be otherwise? + +"One would say that the animals know that descent continues their race, +and that they follow a certain law in regard thereto. Only man does not +know this, and is unwilling to know it. He cares only to have as much +sensual enjoyment as possible. The king of nature,--man! In the name of +his love he kills half the human race. Of woman, who ought to be his aid +in the movement of humanity toward liberty, he makes, in the name of his +pleasures, not an aid, but an enemy. Who is it that everywhere puts a +check upon the progressive movement of humanity? Woman. Why is it so? + +"For the reason that I have given, and for that reason only." + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +"Yes, much worse than the animal is man when he does not live as a man. +Thus was I. The horrible part is that I believed, inasmuch as I did not +allow myself to be seduced by other women that I was leading an +honest family life, that I was a very mortal being, and that if we had +quarrels, the fault was in my wife, and in her character. + +"But it is evident that the fault was not in her. She was like everybody +else, like the majority. She was brought up according to the principles +exacted by the situation of our society,--that is, as all the young +girls of our wealthy classes, without exception, are brought up, and +as they cannot fail to be brought up. How many times we hear or read +of reflections upon the abnormal condition of women, and upon what +they ought to be. But these are only vain words. The education of women +results from the real and not imaginary view which the world entertains +of women's vocation. According to this view, the condition of women +consists in procuring pleasure and it is to that end that her education +is directed. From her infancy she is taught only those things that are +calculated to increase her charm. Every young girl is accustomed to +think only of that. + +"As the serfs were brought up solely to please their masters, so woman +is brought up to attract men. It cannot be otherwise. But you will say, +perhaps, that that applies only to young girls who are badly brought up, +but that there is another education, an education that is serious, in +the schools, an education in the dead languages, an education in the +institutions of midwifery, an education in medical courses, and in other +courses. It is false. + +"Every sort of feminine education has for its sole object the attraction +of men. + +"Some attract by music or curly hair, others by science or by civic +virtue. The object is the same, and cannot be otherwise (since no other +object exists),--to seduce man in order to possess him. Imagine courses +of instruction for women and feminine science without men,--that +is, learned women, and men not KNOWING them as learned. Oh, no! No +education, no instruction can change woman as long as her highest ideal +shall be marriage and not virginity, freedom from sensuality. Until +that time she will remain a serf. One need only imagine, forgetting the +universality of the case, the conditions in which our young girls are +brought up, to avoid astonishment at the debauchery of the women of our +upper classes. It is the opposite that would cause astonishment. + +"Follow my reasoning. From infancy garments, ornaments, cleanliness, +grace, dances, music, reading of poetry, novels, singing, the theatre, +the concert, for use within and without, according as women listen, or +practice themselves. With that, complete physical idleness, an excessive +care of the body, a vast consumption of sweetmeats; and God knows how +the poor maidens suffer from their own sensuality, excited by all these +things. Nine out of ten are tortured intolerably during the first period +of maturity, and afterward provided they do not marry at the age of +twenty. That is what we are unwilling to see, but those who have +eyes see it all the same. And even the majority of these unfortunate +creatures are so excited by a hidden sensuality (and it is lucky if it +is hidden) that they are fit for nothing. They become animated only +in the presence of men. Their whole life is spent in preparations for +coquetry, or in coquetry itself. In the presence of men they become too +animated; they begin to live by sensual energy. But the moment the man +goes away, the life stops. + +"And that, not in the presence of a certain man, but in the presence of +any man, provided he is not utterly hideous. You will say that this is +an exception. No, it is a rule. Only in some it is made very evident, in +other less so. But no one lives by her own life; they are all dependent +upon man. They cannot be otherwise, since to them the attraction of the +greatest number of men is the ideal of life (young girls and married +women), and it is for this reason that they have no feeling stronger +than that of the animal need of every female who tries to attract the +largest number of males in order to increase the opportunities for +choice. So it is in the life of young girls, and so it continues +during marriage. In the life of young girls it is necessary in order to +selection, and in marriage it is necessary in order to rule the +husband. Only one thing suppresses or interrupts these tendencies for +a time,--namely, children,--and then only when the woman is not a +monster,--that is, when she nurses her own children. Here again the +doctor interferes. + +"With my wife, who desired to nurse her own children, and who did nurse +six of them, it happened that the first child was sickly. The doctors, +who cynically undressed her and felt of her everywhere, and whom I had +to thank and pay for these acts,--these dear doctors decided that she +ought not to nurse her child, and she was temporarily deprived of +the only remedy for coquetry. A nurse finished the nursing of this +first-born,--that is to say, we profited by the poverty and ignorance of +a woman to steal her from her own little one in favor of ours, and for +that purpose we dressed her in a kakoschnik trimmed with gold lace. +Nevertheless, that is not the question; but there was again awakened in +my wife that coquetry which had been sleeping during the nursing period. +Thanks to that, she reawakened in me the torments of jealousy which I +had formerly known, though in a much slighter degree." + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +"Yes, jealousy, that is another of the secrets of marriage known to all +and concealed by all. Besides the general cause of the mutual hatred of +husbands and wives resulting from complicity in the pollution of a human +being, and also from other causes, the inexhaustible source of marital +wounds is jealousy. But by tacit consent it is determined to conceal +them from all, and we conceal them. Knowing them, each one supposes in +himself that it is an unfortunate peculiarity, and not a common destiny. +So it was with me, and it had to be so. There cannot fail to be jealousy +between husbands and wives who live immorally. If they cannot sacrifice +their pleasures for the welfare of their child, they conclude therefrom, +and truly, that they will not sacrifice their pleasures for, I will not +say happiness and tranquillity (since one may sin in secret), but even +for the sake of conscience. Each one knows very well that neither admits +any high moral reasons for not betraying the other, since in their +mutual relations they fail in the requirements of morality, and from +that time distrust and watch each other. + +"Oh, what a frightful feeling of jealousy! I do not speak of that real +jealousy which has foundations (it is tormenting, but it promises an +issue), but of that unconscious jealousy which inevitably accompanies +every immoral marriage, and which, having no cause, has no end. This +jealousy is frightful. Frightful, that is the word. + +"And this is it. A young man speaks to my wife. He looks at her with a +smile, and, as it seems to me, he surveys her body. How does he dare to +think of her, to think of the possibility of a romance with her? And how +can she, seeing this, tolerate him? Not only does she tolerate him, but +she seems pleased. I even see that she puts herself to trouble on his +account. And in my soul there rises such a hatred for her that each of +her words, each gesture, disgusts me. She notices it, she knows not what +to do, and how assume an air of indifferent animation? Ah! I suffer! +That makes her gay, she is content. And my hatred increases tenfold, but +I do not dare to give it free force, because at the bottom of my soul +I know that there are no real reasons for it, and I remain in my seat, +feigning indifference, and exaggerating my attention and courtesy to +HIM. + +"Then I get angry with myself. I desire to leave the room, to leave them +alone, and I do, in fact, go out; but scarcely am I outside when I am +invaded by a fear of what is taking place within my absence. I go in +again, inventing some pretext. Or sometimes I do not go in; I remain +near the door, and listen. How can she humiliate herself and humiliate +me by placing me in this cowardly situation of suspicion and espionage? +Oh, abomination! Oh, the wicked animal! And he too, what does he think +of you? But he is like all men. He is what I was before my marriage. It +gives him pleasure. He even smiles when he looks at me, as much as to +say: 'What have you to do with this? It is my turn now.' + +"This feeling is horrible. Its burn is unendurable. To entertain this +feeling toward any one, to once suspect a man of lusting after my wife, +was enough to spoil this man forever in my eyes, as if he had been +sprinkled with vitriol. Let me once become jealous of a being, and +nevermore could I re-establish with him simple human relations, and my +eyes flashed when I looked at him. + +"As for my wife, so many times had I enveloped her with this moral +vitriol, with this jealous hatred, that she was degraded thereby. In the +periods of this causeless hatred I gradually uncrowned her. I covered +her with shame in my imagination. + +"I invented impossible knaveries. I suspected, I am ashamed to say, that +she, this queen of 'The Thousand and One Nights,' deceived me with my +serf, under my very eyes, and laughing at me. + +"Thus, with each new access of jealousy (I speak always of causeless +jealousy), I entered into the furrow dug formerly by my filthy +suspicions, and I continually deepened it. She did the same thing. If +I have reasons to be jealous, she who knew my past had a thousand times +more. And she was more ill-natured in her jealousy than I. And the +sufferings that I felt from her jealousy were different, and likewise +very painful. + +"The situation may be described thus. We are living more or less +tranquilly. I am even gay and contented. Suddenly we start a +conversation on some most commonplace subject, and directly she finds +herself disagreeing with me upon matters concerning which we have been +generally in accord. And furthermore I see that, without any necessity +therefor, she is becoming irritated. I think that she has a nervous +attack, or else that the subject of conversation is really disagreeable +to her. We talk of something else, and that begins again. Again she +torments me, and becomes irritated. I am astonished and look for a +reason. Why? For what? She keeps silence, answers me with monosyllables, +evidently making allusions to something. I begin to divine that the +reason of all this is that I have taken a few walks in the garden with +her cousin, to whom I did not give even a thought. I begin to +divine, but I cannot say so. If I say so, I confirm her suspicions. I +interrogate her, I question her. She does not answer, but she sees that +I understand, and that confirms her suspicions. + +"'What is the matter with you?' I ask. + +"'Nothing, I am as well as usual,' she answers. + +"And at the same time, like a crazy woman, she gives utterance to the +silliest remarks, to the most inexplicable explosions of spite. + +"Sometimes I am patient, but at other times I break out with anger. Then +her own irritation is launched forth in a flood of insults, in charges +of imaginary crimes and all carried to the highest degree by sobs, +tears, and retreats through the house to the most improbable spots. I +go to look for her. I am ashamed before people, before the children, but +there is nothing to be done. She is in a condition where I feel that she +is ready for anything. I run, and finally find her. Nights of torture +follow, in which both of us, with exhausted nerves, appease each other, +after the most cruel words and accusations. + +"Yes, jealousy, causeless jealousy, is the condition of our debauched +conjugal life. And throughout my marriage never did I cease to feel it +and to suffer from it. There were two periods in which I suffered most +intensely. The first time was after the birth of our first child, +when the doctors had forbidden my wife to nurse it. I was particularly +jealous, in the first place, because my wife felt that restlessness +peculiar to animal matter when the regular course of life is interrupted +without occasion. But especially was I jealous because, having seen +with what facility she had thrown off her moral duties as a mother, I +concluded rightly, though unconsciously, that she would throw off as +easily her conjugal duties, feeling all the surer of this because she +was in perfect health, as was shown by the fact that, in spite of the +prohibition of the dear doctors, she nursed her following children, and +even very well." + +"I see that you have no love for the doctors," said I, having noticed +Posdnicheff's extraordinarily spiteful expression of face and tone of +voice whenever he spoke of them. + +"It is not a question of loving them or of not loving them. They have +ruined my life, as they have ruined the lives of thousands of beings +before me, and I cannot help connecting the consequence with the cause. +I conceive that they desire, like the lawyers and the rest, to make +money. I would willingly have given them half of my income--and any one +would have done it in my place, understanding what they do--if they had +consented not to meddle in my conjugal life, and to keep themselves at a +distance. I have compiled no statistics, but I know scores of cases--in +reality, they are innumerable--where they have killed, now a child in +its mother's womb, asserting positively that the mother could not give +birth to it (when the mother could give birth to it very well), now +mothers, under the pretext of a so-called operation. No one has counted +these murders, just as no one counted the murders of the Inquisition, +because it was supposed that they were committed for the benefit of +humanity. Innumerable are the crimes of the doctors! But all these +crimes are nothing compared with the materialistic demoralization which +they introduce into the world through women. I say nothing of the fact +that, if it were to follow their advice,--thanks to the microbe which +they see everywhere,--humanity, instead of tending to union, would +proceed straight to complete disunion. Everybody, according to their +doctrine, should isolate himself, and never remove from his mouth a +syringe filled with phenic acid (moreover, they have found out now that +it does no good). But I would pass over all these things. The supreme +poison is the perversion of people, especially of women. One can no +longer say now: 'You live badly, live better.' One can no longer say +it either to himself or to others, for, if you live badly (say the +doctors), the cause is in the nervous system or in something similar, +and it is necessary to go to consult them, and they will prescribe +for you thirty-five copecks' worth of remedies to be bought at the +drug-store, and you must swallow them. Your condition grows worse? Again +to the doctors, and more remedies! An excellent business! + +"But to return to our subject. I was saying that my wife nursed her +children well, that the nursing and the gestation of the children, and +the children in general, quieted my tortures of jealousy, but that, on +the other hand, they provoked torments of a different sort." + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +"The children came rapidly, one after another, and there happened +what happens in our society with children and doctors. Yes, children, +maternal love, it is a painful thing. Children, to a woman of our +society, are not a joy, a pride, nor a fulfilment of her vocation, but +a cause of fear, anxiety, and interminable suffering, torture. Women say +it, they think it, and they feel it too. Children to them are really a +torture, not because they do not wish to give birth to them, nurse them, +and care for them (women with a strong maternal instinct--and such was +my wife--are ready to do that), but because the children may fall sick +and die. They do not wish to give birth to them, and then not love them; +and when they love, they do not wish to feel fear for the child's health +and life. That is why they do not wish to nurse them. 'If I nurse it,' +they say, 'I shall become too fond of it.' One would think that they +preferred india-rubber children, which could neither be sick nor die, +and could always be repaired. What an entanglement in the brains of +these poor women! Why such abominations to avoid pregnancy, and to avoid +the love of the little ones? + +"Love, the most joyous condition of the soul, is represented as a +danger. And why? Because, when a man does not live as a man, he is +worse than a beast. A woman cannot look upon a child otherwise than as +a pleasure. It is true that it is painful to give birth to it, but what +little hands! . . . Oh, the little hands! Oh, the little feet! Oh, its +smile! Oh, its little body! Oh, its prattle! Oh, its hiccough! In a +word, it is a feeling of animal, sensual maternity. But as for any idea +as to the mysterious significance of the appearance of a new human being +to replace us, there is scarcely a sign of it. + +"Nothing of it appears in all that is said and done. No one has any +faith now in a baptism of the child, and yet that was nothing but a +reminder of the human significance of the newborn babe. + +"They have rejected all that, but they have not replaced it, and there +remain only the dresses, the laces, the little hands, the little +feet, and whatever exists in the animal. But the animal has neither +imagination, nor foresight, nor reason, nor a doctor. + +"No! not even a doctor! The chicken droops its head, overwhelmed, or the +calf dies; the hen clucks and the cow lows for a time, and then these +beasts continue to live, forgetting what has happened. + +"With us, if the child falls sick, what is to be done, how to care for +it, what doctor to call, where to go? If it dies, there will be no more +little hands or little feet, and then what is the use of the sufferings +endured? The cow does not ask all that, and this is why children are a +source of misery. The cow has no imagination, and for that reason cannot +think how it might have saved the child if it had done this or that, and +its grief, founded in its physical being, lasts but a very short time. +It is only a condition, and not that sorrow which becomes exaggerated +to the point of despair, thanks to idleness and satiety. The cow has not +that reasoning faculty which would enable it to ask the why. Why endure +all these tortures? What was the use of so much love, if the little +ones were to die? The cow has no logic which tells it to have no more +children, and, if any come accidentally, to neither love nor nurse them, +that it may not suffer. But our wives reason, and reason in this way, +and that is why I said that, when a man does not live as a man, he is +beneath the animal." + +"But then, how is it necessary to act, in your opinion, in order to +treat children humanly?" I asked. + +"How? Why, love them humanly." + +"Well, do not mothers love their children?" + +"They do not love them humanly, or very seldom do, and that is why they +do not love them even as dogs. Mark this, a hen, a goose, a wolf, will +always remain to woman inaccessible ideals of animal love. It is a rare +thing for a woman to throw herself, at the peril of her life, upon an +elephant to snatch her child away, whereas a hen or a sparrow will not +fail to fly at a dog and sacrifice itself utterly for its children. +Observe this, also. Woman has the power to limit her physical love for +her children, which an animal cannot do. Does that mean that, because of +this, woman is inferior to the animal? No. She is superior (and even to +say superior is unjust, she is not superior, she is different), but she +has other duties, human duties. She can restrain herself in the matter +of animal love, and transfer her love to the soul of the child. That is +what woman's role should be, and that is precisely what we do not see in +our society. We read of the heroic acts of mothers who sacrifice their +children in the name of a superior idea, and these things seem to us +like tales of the ancient world, which do not concern us. And yet I +believe that, if the mother has not some ideal, in the name of which she +can sacrifice the animal feeling, and if this force finds no employment, +she will transfer it to chimerical attempts to physically preserve her +child, aided in this task by the doctor, and she will suffer as she does +suffer. + +"So it was with my wife. Whether there was one child or five, the +feeling remained the same. In fact, it was a little better when there +had been five. Life was always poisoned with fear for the children, not +only from their real or imaginary diseases, but even by their simple +presence. For my part, at least, throughout my conjugal life, all my +interests and all my happiness depended upon the health of my children, +their condition, their studies. Children, it is needless to say, are a +serious consideration; but all ought to live, and in our days parents +can no longer live. Regular life does not exist for them. The whole life +of the family hangs by a hair. What a terrible thing it is to suddenly +receive the news that little Basile is vomiting, or that Lise has a +cramp in the stomach! Immediately you abandon everything, you forget +everything, everything becomes nothing. The essential thing is the +doctor, the enema, the temperature. You cannot begin a conversation but +little Pierre comes running in with an anxious air to ask if he may eat +an apple, or what jacket he shall put on, or else it is the servant who +enters with a screaming baby. + +"Regular, steady family life does not exist. Where you live, and +consequently what you do, depends upon the health of the little ones, +the health of the little ones depends upon nobody, and, thanks to the +doctors, who pretend to aid health, your entire life is disturbed. It is +a perpetual peril. Scarcely do we believe ourselves out of it when a new +danger comes: more attempts to save. Always the situation of sailors +on a foundering vessel. Sometimes it seemed to me that this was done on +purpose, that my wife feigned anxiety in order to conquer me, since that +solved the question so simply for her benefit. It seemed to me that all +that she did at those times was done for its effect upon me, but now I +see that she herself, my wife, suffered and was tortured on account of +the little ones, their health, and their diseases. + +"A torture to both of us, but to her the children were also a means of +forgetting herself, like an intoxication. I often noticed, when she was +very sad, that she was relieved, when a child fell sick, at being able +to take refuge in this intoxication. It was involuntary intoxication, +because as yet there was nothing else. On every side we heard that Mrs. +So-and-so had lost children, that Dr. So-and-so had saved the child +of Mrs. So-and-so, and that in a certain family all had moved from the +house in which they were living, and thereby saved the little ones. And +the doctors, with a serious air, confirmed this, sustaining my wife in +her opinions. She was not prone to fear, but the doctor dropped some +word, like corruption of the blood, scarlatina, or else--heaven help +us--diphtheria, and off she went. + +"It was impossible for it to be otherwise. Women in the old days had the +belief that 'God has given, God has taken away,' that the soul of the +little angel is going to heaven, and that it is better to die innocent +than to die in sin. If the women of to-day had something like this +faith, they could endure more peacefully the sickness of their children. +But of all that there does not remain even a trace. And yet it is +necessary to believe in something; consequently they stupidly believe in +medicine, and not even in medicine, but in the doctor. One believes in +X, another in Z, and, like all believers, they do not see the idiocy of +their beliefs. They believe quia absurdum, because, in reality, if they +did not believe in a stupid way, they would see the vanity of all that +these brigands prescribe for them. Scarlatina is a contagious disease; +so, when one lives in a large city, half the family has to move away +from its residence (we did it twice), and yet every man in the city is a +centre through which pass innumerable diameters, carrying threads of all +sorts of contagions. There is no obstacle: the baker, the tailor, the +coachman, the laundresses. + +"And I would undertake, for every man who moves on account of contagion, +to find in his new dwelling-place another contagion similar, if not the +same. + +"But that is not all. Every one knows rich people who, after a case of +diphtheria, destroy everything in their residences, and then fall sick +in houses newly built and furnished. Every one knows, likewise, numbers +of men who come in contact with sick people and do not get infected. Our +anxieties are due to the people who circulate tall stories. One woman +says that she has an excellent doctor. 'Pardon me,' answers the other, +'he killed such a one,' or such a one. And vice versa. Bring her +another, who knows no more, who learned from the same books, who treats +according to the same formulas, but who goes about in a carriage, and +asks a hundred roubles a visit, and she will have faith in him. + +"It all lies in the fact that our women are savages. They have no belief +in God, but some of them believe in the evil eye, and the others in +doctors who charge high fees. If they had faith they would know that +scarlatina, diphtheria, etc., are not so terrible, since they cannot +disturb that which man can and should love,--the soul. There can result +from them only that which none of us can avoid,--disease and death. +Without faith in God, they love only physically, and all their energy is +concentrated upon the preservation of life, which cannot be preserved, +and which the doctors promise the fools of both sexes to save. And from +that time there is nothing to be done; the doctors must be summoned. + +"Thus the presence of the children not only did not improve our +relations as husband and wife, but, on the contrary, disunited us. The +children became an additional cause of dispute, and the larger they +grew, the more they became an instrument of struggle. + +"One would have said that we used them as weapons with which to combat +each other. Each of us had his favorite. I made use of little Basile +(the eldest), she of Lise. Further, when the children reached an age +where their characters began to be defined, they became allies, which we +drew each in his or her own direction. They suffered horribly from this, +the poor things, but we, in our perpetual hubbub, were not clear-headed +enough to think of them. The little girl was devoted to me, but the +eldest boy, who resembled my wife, his favorite, often inspired me with +dislike." + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +"We lived at first in the country, then in the city, and, if the final +misfortune had not happened, I should have lived thus until my old age +and should then have believed that I had had a good life,--not too good, +but, on the other hand, not bad,--an existence such as other people +lead. I should not have understood the abyss of misfortune and ignoble +falsehood in which I floundered about, feeling that something was not +right. I felt, in the first place, that I, a man, who, according to my +ideas, ought to be the master, wore the petticoats, and that I could not +get rid of them. The principal cause of my subjection was the children. +I should have liked to free myself, but I could not. Bringing up the +children, and resting upon them, my wife ruled. I did not then realize +that she could not help ruling, especially because, in marrying, she was +morally superior to me, as every young girl is incomparably superior to +the man, since she is incomparably purer. Strange thing! The ordinary +wife in our society is a very commonplace person or worse, selfish, +gossiping, whimsical, whereas the ordinary young girl, until the age of +twenty, is a charming being, ready for everything that is beautiful +and lofty. Why is this so? Evidently because husbands pervert them, and +lower them to their own level. + +"In truth, if boys and girls are born equal, the little girls find +themselves in a better situation. In the first place, the young girl is +not subjected to the perverting conditions to which we are subjected. +She has neither cigarettes, nor wine, nor cards, nor comrades, nor +public houses, nor public functions. And then the chief thing is that +she is physically pure, and that is why, in marrying, she is superior +to her husband. She is superior to man as a young girl, and when she +becomes a wife in our society, where there is no need to work in order +to live, she becomes superior, also, by the gravity of the acts of +generation, birth, and nursing. + +"Woman, in bringing a child into the world, and giving it her bosom, +sees clearly that her affair is more serious than the affair of man, who +sits in the Zemstvo, in the court. She knows that in these functions the +main thing is money, and money can be made in different ways, and for +that very reason money is not inevitably necessary, like nursing a +child. Consequently woman is necessarily superior to man, and must rule. +But man, in our society, not only does not recognize this, but, on +the contrary, always looks upon her from the height of his grandeur, +despising what she does. + +"Thus my wife despised me for my work at the Zemstvo, because she gave +birth to children and nursed them. I, in turn, thought that woman's +labor was most contemptible, which one might and should laugh at. + +"Apart from the other motives, we were also separated by a mutual +contempt. Our relations grew ever more hostile, and we arrived at that +period when, not only did dissent provoke hostility, but hostility +provoked dissent. Whatever she might say, I was sure in advance to hold +a contrary opinion; and she the same. Toward the fourth year of +our marriage it was tacitly decided between us that no intellectual +community was possible, and we made no further attempts at it. As to +the simplest objects, we each held obstinately to our own opinions. With +strangers we talked upon the most varied and most intimate matters, but +not with each other. Sometimes, in listening to my wife talk with others +in my presence, I said to myself: 'What a woman! Everything that she +says is a lie!' And I was astonished that the person with whom she was +conversing did not see that she was lying. When we were together; we +were condemned to silence, or to conversations which, I am sure, might +have been carried on by animals. + +"'What time is it? It is bed-time. What is there for dinner to-day? +Where shall we go? What is there in the newspaper? The doctor must be +sent for, Lise has a sore throat.' + +"Unless we kept within the extremely narrow limits of such conversation, +irritation was sure to ensue. The presence of a third person relieved +us, for through an intermediary we could still communicate. She probably +believed that she was always right. As for me, in my own eyes, I was a +saint beside her. + +"The periods of what we call love arrived as often as formerly. They +were more brutal, without refinement, without ornament; but they were +short, and generally followed by periods of irritation without cause, +irritation fed by the most trivial pretexts. We had spats about the +coffee, the table-cloth, the carriage, games of cards,--trifles, in +short, which could not be of the least importance to either of us. As +for me, a terrible execration was continually boiling up within me. I +watched her pour the tea, swing her foot, lift her spoon to her mouth, +and blow upon hot liquids or sip them, and I detested her as if these +had been so many crimes. + +"I did not notice that these periods of irritation depended very +regularly upon the periods of love. Each of the latter was followed +by one of the former. A period of intense love was followed by a long +period of anger; a period of mild love induced a mild irritation. We did +not understand that this love and this hatred were two opposite faces +of the same animal feeling. To live thus would be terrible, if one +understood the philosophy of it. But we did not perceive this, we did +not analyze it. It is at once the torture and the relief of man that, +when he lives irregularly, he can cherish illusions as to the miseries +of his situation. So did we. She tried to forget herself in sudden and +absorbing occupations, in household duties, the care of the furniture, +her dress and that of her children, in the education of the latter, and +in looking after their health. These were occupations that did not arise +from any immediate necessity, but she accomplished them as if her life +and that of her children depended on whether the pastry was allowed +to burn, whether a curtain was hanging properly, whether a dress was a +success, whether a lesson was well learned, or whether a medicine was +swallowed. + +"I saw clearly that to her all this was, more than anything else, a +means of forgetting, an intoxication, just as hunting, card-playing, and +my functions at the Zemstvo served the same purpose for me. It is true +that in addition I had an intoxication literally speaking,--tobacco, +which I smoked in large quantities, and wine, upon which I did not get +drunk, but of which I took too much. Vodka before meals, and during +meals two glasses of wine, so that a perpetual mist concealed the +turmoil of existence. + +"These new theories of hypnotism, of mental maladies, of hysteria are +not simple stupidities, but dangerous or evil stupidities. Charcot, I +am sure, would have said that my wife was hysterical, and of me he would +have said that I was an abnormal being, and he would have wanted to +treat me. But in us there was nothing requiring treatment. All this +mental malady was the simple result of the fact that we were living +immorally. Thanks to this immoral life, we suffered, and, to stifle +our sufferings, we tried abnormal means, which the doctors call the +'symptoms' of a mental malady,--hysteria. + +"There was no occasion in all this to apply for treatment to Charcot +or to anybody else. Neither suggestion nor bromide would have been +effective in working our cure. The needful thing was an examination of +the origin of the evil. It is as when one is sitting on a nail; if you +see the nail, you see that which is irregular in your life, and you +avoid it. Then the pain stops, without any necessity of stifling it. Our +pain arose from the irregularity of our life, and also my jealousy, +my irritability, and the necessity of keeping myself in a state of +perpetual semi-intoxication by hunting, card-playing, and, above all, +the use of wine and tobacco. It was because of this irregularity that my +wife so passionately pursued her occupations. The sudden changes of her +disposition, from extreme sadness to extreme gayety, and her babble, +arose from the need of forgetting herself, of forgetting her life, in +the continual intoxication of varied and very brief occupations. + +"Thus we lived in a perpetual fog, in which we did not distinguish our +condition. We were like two galley-slaves fastened to the same ball, +cursing each other, poisoning each other's existence, and trying to +shake each other off. I was still unaware that ninety-nine families out +of every hundred live in the same hell, and that it cannot be otherwise. +I had not learned this fact from others or from myself. The coincidences +that are met in regular, and even in irregular life, are surprising. At +the very period when the life of parents becomes impossible, it becomes +indispensable that they go to the city to live, in order to educate +their children. That is what we did." + +Posdnicheff became silent, and twice there escaped him, in the +half-darkness, sighs, which at that moment seemed to me like suppressed +sobs. Then he continued. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +"So we lived in the city. In the city the wretched feel less sad. One +can live there a hundred years without being noticed, and be dead a long +time before anybody will notice it. People have no time to inquire into +your life. All are absorbed. Business, social relations, art, the health +of children, their education. And there are visits that must be received +and made; it is necessary to see this one, it is necessary to hear that +one or the other one. In the city there are always one, two, or three +celebrities that it is indispensable that one should visit. + +"Now one must care for himself, or care for such or such a little one, +now it is the professor, the private tutor, the governesses, . . . and +life is absolutely empty. In this activity we were less conscious of the +sufferings of our cohabitation. Moreover, in the first of it, we had a +superb occupation,--the arrangement of the new dwelling, and then, too, +the moving from the city to the country, and from the country to the +city. + +"Thus we spent a winter. The following winter an incident happened to us +which passed unnoticed, but which was the fundamental cause of all that +happened later. My wife was suffering, and the rascals (the doctors) +would not permit her to conceive a child, and taught her how to avoid +it. I was profoundly disgusted. I struggled vainly against it, but +she insisted frivolously and obstinately, and I surrendered. The last +justification of our life as wretches was thereby suppressed, and life +became baser than ever. + +"The peasant and the workingman need children, and hence their conjugal +relations have a justification. But we, when we have a few children, +have no need of any more. They make a superfluous confusion of expenses +and joint heirs, and are an embarrassment. Consequently we have no +excuses for our existence as wretches, but we are so deeply degraded +that we do not see the necessity of a justification. The majority of +people in contemporary society give themselves up to this debauchery +without the slightest remorse. We have no conscience left, except, so to +speak, the conscience of public opinion and of the criminal code. But in +this matter neither of these consciences is struck. There is not a being +in society who blushes at it. Each one practices it,--X, Y, Z, etc. What +is the use of multiplying beggars, and depriving ourselves of the joys +of social life? There is no necessity of having conscience before the +criminal code, or of fearing it: low girls, soldiers' wives who throw +their children into ponds or wells, these certainly must be put +in prison. But with us the suppression is effected opportunely and +properly. + +"Thus we passed two years more. The method prescribed by the rascals had +evidently succeeded. My wife had grown stouter and handsomer. It was the +beauty of the end of summer. She felt it, and paid much attention to her +person. She had acquired that provoking beauty that stirs men. She was +in all the brilliancy of the wife of thirty years, who conceives no +children, eats heartily, and is excited. The very sight of her was +enough to frighten one. She was like a spirited carriage-horse that has +long been idle, and suddenly finds itself without a bridle. As for my +wife, she had no bridle, as for that matter, ninety-nine hundredths of +our women have none." + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +Posdnicheff's face had become transformed; his eyes were pitiable; their +expression seemed strange, like that of another being than himself; his +moustache and beard turned up toward the top of his face; his nose was +diminished, and his mouth enlarged, immense, frightful. + +"Yes," he resumed "she had grown stouter since ceasing to conceive, +and her anxieties about her children began to disappear. Not even +to disappear. One would have said that she was waking from a long +intoxication, that on coming to herself she had perceived the entire +universe with its joys, a whole world in which she had not learned to +live, and which she did not understand. + +"'If only this world shall not vanish! When time is past, when old age +comes, one cannot recover it.' Thus, I believe, she thought, or rather +felt. Moreover, she could neither think nor feel otherwise. She had been +brought up in this idea that there is in the world but one thing worthy +of attention,--love. In marrying, she had known something of this love, +but very far from everything that she had understood as promised her, +everything that she expected. How many disillusions! How much suffering! +And an unexpected torture,--the children! This torture had told upon +her, and then, thanks to the obliging doctor, she had learned that it +is possible to avoid having children. That had made her glad. She had +tried, and she was now revived for the only thing that she knew,--for +love. But love with a husband polluted by jealousy and ill-nature was no +longer her ideal. She began to think of some other tenderness; at least, +that is what I thought. She looked about her as if expecting some event +or some being. I noticed it, and I could not help being anxious. + +"Always, now, it happened that, in talking with me through a third party +(that is, in talking with others, but with the intention that I should +hear), she boldly expressed,--not thinking that an hour before she had +said the opposite,--half joking, half seriously, this idea that maternal +anxieties are a delusion; that it is not worth while to sacrifice one's +life to children. When one is young, it is necessary to enjoy life. So +she occupied herself less with the children, not with the same intensity +as formerly, and paid more and more attention to herself, to her +face,--although she concealed it,--to her pleasures, and even to her +perfection from the worldly point of view. She began to devote herself +passionately to the piano, which had formerly stood forgotten in the +corner. There, at the piano, began the adventure. + +"The MAN appeared." + +Posdnicheff seemed embarrassed, and twice again there escaped him that +nasal sound of which I spoke above. I thought that it gave him pain to +refer to the MAN, and to remember him. He made an effort, as if to +break down the obstacle that embarrassed him, and continued with +determination. + +"He was a bad man in my eyes, and not because he has played such an +important role in my life, but because he was really such. For the +rest, from the fact that he was bad, we must conclude that he was +irresponsible. He was a musician, a violinist. Not a professional +musician, but half man of the world, half artist. His father, a country +proprietor, was a neighbor of my father's. The father had become ruined, +and the children, three boys, were all sent away. Our man, the youngest, +was sent to his godmother at Paris. There they placed him in the +Conservatory, for he showed a taste for music. He came out a violinist, +and played in concerts." + +On the point of speaking evil of the other, Posdnicheff checked himself, +stopped, and said suddenly: + +"In truth, I know not how he lived. I only know that that year he came +to Russia, and came to see me. Moist eyes of almond shape, smiling red +lips, a little moustache well waxed, hair brushed in the latest fashion, +a vulgarly pretty face,--what the women call 'not bad,'--feebly built +physically, but with no deformity; with hips as broad as a woman's; +correct, and insinuating himself into the familiarity of people as far +as possible, but having that keen sense that quickly detects a false +step and retires in reason,--a man, in short, observant of the external +rules of dignity, with that special Parisianism that is revealed in +buttoned boots, a gaudy cravat, and that something which foreigners pick +up in Paris, and which, in its peculiarity and novelty, always has +an influence on our women. In his manners an external and artificial +gayety, a way, you know, of referring to everything by hints, by +unfinished fragments, as if everything that one says you knew already, +recalled it, and could supply the omissions. Well, he, with his music, +was the cause of all. + +"At the trial the affair was so represented that everything seemed +attributable to jealousy. It is false,--that is, not quite false, but +there was something else. The verdict was rendered that I was a deceived +husband, that I had killed in defence of my sullied honor (that is the +way they put it in their language), and thus I was acquitted. I tried to +explain the affair from my own point of view, but they concluded that I +simply wanted to rehabilitate the memory of my wife. Her relations with +the musician, whatever they may have been, are now of no importance +to me or to her. The important part is what I have told you. The whole +tragedy was due to the fact that this man came into our house at a time +when an immense abyss had already been dug between us, that frightful +tension of mutual hatred, in which the slightest motive sufficed to +precipitate the crisis. Our quarrels in the last days were something +terrible, and the more astonishing because they were followed by a +brutal passion extremely strained. If it had not been he, some other +would have come. If the pretext had not been jealousy, I should have +discovered another. I insist upon this point,--that all husbands +who live the married life that I lived must either resort to outside +debauchery, or separate from their wives, or kill themselves, or kill +their wives as I did. If there is any one in my case to whom this does +not happen, he is a very rare exception, for, before ending as I ended, +I was several times on the point of suicide, and my wife made several +attempts to poison herself." + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +"In order that you may understand me, I must tell you how this happened. +We were living along, and all seemed well. Suddenly we began to talk +of the children's education. I do not remember what words either of us +uttered, but a discussion began, reproaches, leaps from one subject to +another. 'Yes, I know it. It has been so for a long time.' . . . 'You +said that.' . . . 'No, I did not say that.' . . . 'Then I lie?' etc. + +"And I felt that the frightful crisis was approaching when I should +desire to kill her or else myself. I knew that it was approaching; I +was afraid of it as of fire; I wanted to restrain myself. But rage +took possession of my whole being. My wife found herself in the same +condition, perhaps worse. She knew that she intentionally distorted each +of my words, and each of her words was saturated with venom. All that +was dear to me she disparaged and profaned. The farther the quarrel +went, the more furious it became. I cried, 'Be silent,' or something +like that. + +"She bounded out of the room and ran toward the children. I tried to hold +her back to finish my insults. I grasped her by the arm, and hurt her. +She cried: 'Children, your father is beating me.' I cried: 'Don't lie.' +She continued to utter falsehoods for the simple purpose of irritating +me further. 'Ah, it is not the first time,' or something of that sort. +The children rushed toward her and tried to quiet her. I said: 'Don't +sham.' She said: 'You look upon everything as a sham. You would kill a +person and say he was shamming. Now I understand you. That is what you +want to do.' 'Oh, if you were only dead!' I cried. + +"I remember how that terrible phrase frightened me. Never had I thought +that I could utter words so brutal, so frightful, and I was stupefied at +what had just escaped my lips. I fled into my private apartment. I sat +down and began to smoke. I heard her go into the hall and prepare to go +out. I asked her: 'Where are you going? She did not answer. 'Well, may +the devil take you!' said I to myself, going back into my private room, +where I lay down again and began smoking afresh. Thousands of plans of +vengeance, of ways of getting rid of her, and how to arrange this, and +act as if nothing had happened,--all this passed through my head. I +thought of these things, and I smoked, and smoked, and smoked. I thought +of running away, of making my escape, of going to America. I went so far +as to dream how beautiful it would be, after getting rid of her, to love +another woman, entirely different from her. I should be rid of her if +she should die or if I should get a divorce, and I tried to think how +that could be managed. I saw that I was getting confused, but, in order +not to see that I was not thinking rightly, I kept on smoking. + +"And the life of the house went on as usual. The children's teacher came +and asked: 'Where is Madame? When will she return?' + +"The servants asked if they should serve the tea. I entered the +dining-room. The children, Lise, the eldest girl, looked at me with +fright, as if to question me, and she did not come. The whole evening +passed, and still she did not come. Two sentiments kept succeeding each +other in my soul,--hatred of her, since she tortured myself and the +children by her absence, but would finally return just the same, and +fear lest she might return and make some attempt upon herself. But where +should I look for her? At her sister's? It seemed so stupid to go to ask +where one's wife is. Moreover, may God forbid, I hoped, that she should +be at her sister's! If she wishes to torment any one, let her torment +herself first. And suppose she were not at her sister's. + +"Suppose she were to do, or had already done, something. + +"Eleven o'clock, midnight, one o'clock. . . . I did not sleep. I did not +go to my chamber. It is stupid to lie stretched out all alone, and to +wait. But in my study I did not rest. I tried to busy myself, to write +letters, to read. Impossible! I was alone, tortured, wicked, and +I listened. Toward daylight I went to sleep. I awoke. She had not +returned. Everything in the house went on as usual, and all looked at +me in astonishment, questioningly. The children's eyes were full of +reproach for me. + +"And always the same feeling of anxiety about her, and of hatred because +of this anxiety. + +"Toward eleven o'clock in the morning came her sister, her ambassadress. +Then began the usual phrases: 'She is in a terrible state. What is +the matter?' 'Why, nothing has happened.' I spoke of her asperity of +character, and I added that I had done nothing, and that I would not +take the first step. If she wants a divorce, so much the better! My +sister-in-law would not listen to this idea, and went away without +having gained anything. I was obstinate, and I said boldly and +determinedly, in talking to her, that I would not take the first +step. Immediately she had gone I went into the other room, and saw the +children in a frightened and pitiful state, and there I found myself +already inclined to take this first step. But I was bound by my word. +Again I walked up and down, always smoking. At breakfast I drank brandy +and wine, and I reached the point which I unconsciously desired, the +point where I no longer saw the stupidity and baseness of my situation. + +"Toward three o'clock she came. I thought that she was appeased, or +admitted her defeat. I began to tell her that I was provoked by her +reproaches. She answered me, with the same severe and terribly downcast +face, that she had not come for explanations, but to take the children, +that we could not live together. I answered that it was not my fault, +that she had put me beside myself. She looked at me with a severe and +solemn air, and said: 'Say no more. You will repent it.' I said that I +could not tolerate comedies. Then she cried out something that I did not +understand, and rushed toward her room. The key turned in the lock, +and she shut herself up. I pushed at the door. There was no response. +Furious, I went away. + +"A half hour later Lise came running all in tears. 'What! Has anything +happened? We cannot hear Mamma!' We went toward my wife's room. I pushed +the door with all my might. The bolt was scarcely drawn, and the door +opened. In a skirt, with high boots, my wife lay awkwardly on the bed. +On the table an empty opium phial. We restored her to life. Tears and +then reconciliation! Not reconciliation; internally each kept the hatred +for the other, but it was absolutely necessary for the moment to end +the scene in some way, and life began again as before. These scenes, and +even worse, came now once a week, now every month, now every day. And +invariably the same incidents. Once I was absolutely resolved to fly, +but through some inconceivable weakness I remained. + +"Such were the circumstances in which we were living when the MAN came. +The man was bad, it is true. But what! No worse than we were." + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +"When we moved to Moscow, this gentleman--his name was +Troukhatchevsky--came to my house. It was in the morning. I received +him. In former times we had been very familiar. He tried, by various +advances, to re-establish the familiarity, but I was determined to keep +him at a distance, and soon he gave it up. He displeased me extremely. +At the first glance I saw that he was a filthy debauche. I was jealous +of him, even before he had seen my wife. But, strange thing! some occult +fatal power kept me from repulsing him and sending him away, and, on +the contrary, induced me to suffer this approach. What could have been +simpler than to talk with him a few minutes, and then dismiss him coldly +without introducing him to my wife? But no, as if on purpose, I turned +the conversation upon his skill as a violinist, and he answered that, +contrary to what I had heard, he now played the violin more than +formerly. He remembered that I used to play. I answered that I had +abandoned music, but that my wife played very well. + +"Singular thing! Why, in the important events of our life, in those in +which a man's fate is decided,--as mine was decided in that moment,--why +in these events is there neither a past nor a future? My relations with +Troukhatchevsky the first day, at the first hour, were such as they +might still have been after all that has happened. I was conscious that +some frightful misfortune must result from the presence of this +man, and, in spite of that, I could not help being amiable to him. I +introduced him to my wife. She was pleased with him. In the beginning, +I suppose, because of the pleasure of the violin playing, which she +adored. She had even hired for that purpose a violinist from the +theatre. But when she cast a glance at me, she understood my feelings, +and concealed her impression. Then began the mutual trickery and deceit. +I smiled agreeably, pretending that all this pleased me extremely. He, +looking at my wife, as all debauches look at beautiful women, with an +air of being interested solely in the subject of conversation,--that is, +in that which did not interest him at all. + +"She tried to seem indifferent. But my expression, my jealous or +false smile, which she knew so well, and the voluptuous glances of the +musician, evidently excited her. I saw that, after the first interview, +her eyes were already glittering, glittering strangely, and that, thanks +to my jealousy, between him and her had been immediately established +that sort of electric current which is provoked by an identity of +expression in the smile and in the eyes. + +"We talked, at the first interview, of music, of Paris, and of all sorts +of trivialities. He rose to go. Pressing his hat against his swaying +hip, he stood erect, looking now at her and now at me, as if waiting to +see what she would do. I remember that minute, precisely because it was +in my power not to invite him. I need not have invited him, and then +nothing would have happened. But I cast a glance first at him, then at +her. 'Don't flatter yourself that I can be jealous of you,' I thought, +addressing myself to her mentally, and I invited the other to bring his +violin that very evening, and to play with my wife. She raised her eyes +toward me with astonishment, and her face turned purple, as if she were +seized with a sudden fear. She began to excuse herself, saying that +she did not play well enough. This refusal only excited me the more. I +remember the strange feeling with which I looked at his neck, his white +neck, in contrast with his black hair, separated by a parting, when, +with his skipping gait, like that of a bird, he left my house. I +could not help confessing to myself that this man's presence caused me +suffering. 'It is in my power,' thought I, 'to so arrange things that I +shall never see him again. But can it be that I, _I_, fear him? No, I do +not fear him. It would be too humiliating!' + +"And there in the hall, knowing that my wife heard me, I insisted that +he should come that very evening with his violin. He promised me, and +went away. In the evening he arrived with his violin, and they played +together. But for a long time things did not go well; we had not the +necessary music, and that which we had my wife could not play at sight. +I amused myself with their difficulties. I aided them, I made proposals, +and they finally executed a few pieces,--songs without words, and a +little sonata by Mozart. He played in a marvellous manner. He had what +is called the energetic and tender tone. As for difficulties, there were +none for him. Scarcely had he begun to play, when his face changed. He +became serious, and much more sympathetic. He was, it is needless to +say, much stronger than my wife. He helped her, he advised her simply +and naturally, and at the same time played his game with courtesy. +My wife seemed interested only in the music. She was very simple and +agreeable. Throughout the evening I feigned, not only for the others, +but for myself, an interest solely in the music. Really, I was +continually tortured by jealousy. From the first minute that the +musician's eyes met those of my wife, I saw that he did not regard her +as a disagreeable woman, with whom on occasion it would be unpleasant to +enter into intimate relations. + +"If I had been pure, I should not have dreamed of what he might think of +her. But I looked at women, and that is why I understood him and was in +torture. I was in torture, especially because I was sure that toward +me she had no other feeling than of perpetual irritation, sometimes +interrupted by the customary sensuality, and that this man,--thanks to +his external elegance and his novelty, and, above all, thanks to his +unquestionably remarkable talent, thanks to the attraction exercised +under the influence of music, thanks to the impression that music +produces upon nervous natures,--this man would not only please, but +would inevitably, and without difficulty, subjugate and conquer her, and +do with her as he liked. + +"I could not help seeing this. I could not help suffering, or keep from +being jealous. And I was jealous, and I suffered, and in spite of that, +and perhaps even because of that, an unknown force, in spite of my will, +impelled me to be not only polite, but more than polite, amiable. I +cannot say whether I did it for my wife, or to show him that I did not +fear HIM, or to deceive myself; but from my first relations with him I +could not be at my ease. I was obliged, that I might not give way to a +desire to kill him immediately, to 'caress' him. I filled his glass at +the table, I grew enthusiastic over his playing, I talked to him with +an extremely amiable smile, and I invited him to dinner the following +Sunday, and to play again. I told him that I would invite some of my +acquaintances, lovers of his art, to hear him. + +"Two or three days later I was entering my house, in conversation with +a friend, when in the hall I suddenly felt something as heavy as a stone +weighing on my heart, and I could not account for it. And it was this, +it was this: in passing through the hall, I had noticed something which +reminded me of HIM. Not until I reached my study did I realize what it +was, and I returned to the hall to verify my conjecture. Yes, I was +not mistaken. It was his overcoat (everything that belonged to him, +I, without realizing it, had observed with extraordinary attention). I +questioned the servant. That was it. He had come. + +"I passed near the parlor, through my children's study-room. Lise, my +daughter, was sitting before a book, and the old nurse, with my youngest +child, was beside the table, turning the cover of something or other. +In the parlor I heard a slow arpeggio, and his voice, deadened, and a +denial from her. She said: 'No, no! There is something else!' And it +seemed to me that some one was purposely deadening the words by the aid +of the piano. + +"My God! How my heart leaped! What were my imaginations! When I remember +the beast that lived in me at that moment, I am seized with fright. My +heart was first compressed, then stopped, and then began to beat like +a hammer. The principal feeling, as in every bad feeling, was pity for +myself. 'Before the children, before the old nurse,' thought I, 'she +dishonors me. I will go away. I can endure it no longer. God knows what +I should do if. . . . But I must go in.' + +"The old nurse raised her eyes to mine, as if she understood, and advised +me to keep a sharp watch. 'I must go in,' I said to myself, and, without +knowing what I did, I opened the door. He was sitting at the piano and +making arpeggios with his long, white, curved fingers. She was standing +in the angle of the grand piano, before the open score. She saw or +heard me first, and raised her eyes to mine. Was she stunned, was she +pretending not to be frightened, or was she really not frightened at +all? In any case, she did not tremble, she did not stir. She blushed, +but only a little later. + +"'How glad I am that you have come! We have not decided what we will +play Sunday,' said she, in a tone that she would not have had if she had +been alone with me. + +"This tone, and the way in which she said 'we' in speaking of herself +and of him, revolted me. I saluted him silently. He shook hands with me +directly, with a smile that seemed to me full of mockery. He explained +to me that he had brought some scores, in order to prepare for the +Sunday concert, and that they were not in accord as to the piece +to choose,--whether difficult, classic things, notably a sonata by +Beethoven, or lighter pieces. + +"And as he spoke, he looked at me. It was all so natural, so simple, that +there was absolutely nothing to be said against it. And at the same time +I saw, I was sure, that it was false, that they were in a conspiracy to +deceive me. + +"One of the most torturing situations for the jealous (and in our social +life everybody is jealous) are those social conditions which allow +a very great and dangerous intimacy between a man and a woman under +certain pretexts. One must make himself the laughing stock of everybody, +if he desires to prevent associations in the ball-room, the intimacy +of doctors with their patients, the familiarity of art occupations, and +especially of music. In order that people may occupy themselves together +with the noblest art, music, a certain intimacy is necessary, in which +there is nothing blameworthy. Only a jealous fool of a husband can have +anything to say against it. A husband should not have such thoughts, +and especially should not thrust his nose into these affairs, or prevent +them. And yet, everybody knows that precisely in these occupations, +especially in music, many adulteries originate in our society. + +"I had evidently embarrassed them, because for some time I was unable +to say anything. I was like a bottle suddenly turned upside down, from +which the water does not run because it is too full. I wanted to insult +the man, and to drive him away, but I could do nothing of the kind. +On the contrary, I felt that I was disturbing them, and that it was my +fault. I made a presence of approving everything, this time also, thanks +to that strange feeling that forced me to treat him the more amiably in +proportion as his presence was more painful to me. I said that I trusted +to his taste, and I advised my wife to do the same. He remained just as +long as it was necessary in order to efface the unpleasant impression of +my abrupt entrance with a frightened face. He went away with an air of +satisfaction at the conclusions arrived at. As for me, I was perfectly +sure that, in comparison with that which preoccupied them, the question +of music was indifferent to them. I accompanied him with especial +courtesy to the hall (how can one help accompanying a man who has +come to disturb your tranquillity and ruin the happiness of the entire +family?), and I shook his white, soft hand with fervent amiability." + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +"All that day I did not speak to my wife. I could not. Her proximity +excited such hatred that I feared myself. At the table she asked me, in +presence of the children, when I was to start upon a journey. I was to +go the following week to an assembly of the Zemstvo, in a neighboring +locality. I named the date. She asked me if I would need anything for +the journey. I did not answer. I sat silent at the table, and silently +I retired to my study. In those last days she never entered my study, +especially at that hour. Suddenly I heard her steps, her walk, and then +a terribly base idea entered my head that, like the wife of Uri, she +wished to conceal a fault already committed, and that it was for +this reason that she came to see me at this unseasonable hour. 'Is it +possible,' thought I, 'that she is coming to see me?' On hearing her +step as it approached: 'If it is to see me that she is coming, then I am +right.' + +"An inexpressible hatred invaded my soul. The steps drew nearer, and +nearer, and nearer yet. Would she pass by and go on to the other room? +No, the hinges creaked, and at the door her tall, graceful, languid +figure appeared. In her face, in her eyes, a timidity, an insinuating +expression, which she tried to hide, but which I saw, and of which I +understood the meaning. I came near suffocating, such were my efforts to +hold my breath, and, continuing to look at her, I took my cigarette, and +lighted it. + +"'What does this mean? One comes to talk with you, and you go to +smoking.' + +"And she sat down beside me on the sofa, resting against my shoulder. I +recoiled, that I might not touch her. + +"'I see that you are displeased with what I wish to play on Sunday,' +said she. + +"'I am not at all displeased,' said I. + +"'Can I not see?' + +"'Well, I congratulate you on your clairvoyance. Only to you every +baseness is agreeable, and I abhor it.' + +"'If you are going to swear like a trooper, I am going away.' + +"'Then go away. Only know that, if the honor of the family is nothing to +you, to me it is dear. As for you, the devil take you!' + +"'What! What is the matter?' + +"'Go away, in the name of God.' + +"But she did not go away. Was she pretending not to understand, or did +she really not understand what I meant? But she was offended and became +angry. + +"'You have become absolutely impossible,' she began, or some such phrase +as that regarding my character, trying, as usual, to give me as much +pain as possible. 'After what you have done to my sister (she referred +to an incident with her sister, in which, beside myself, I had uttered +brutalities; she knew that that tortured me, and tried to touch me in +that tender spot) nothing will astonish me.' + +"'Yes, offended, humiliated, and dishonored, and after that to hold +me still responsible,' thought I, and suddenly a rage, such a hatred +invaded me as I do not remember to have ever felt before. For the first +time I desired to express this hatred physically. I leaped upon her, but +at the same moment I understood my condition, and I asked myself whether +it would be well for me to abandon myself to my fury. And I answered +myself that it would be well, that it would frighten her, and, instead +of resisting, I lashed and spurred myself on, and was glad to feel my +anger boiling more and more fiercely. + +"'Go away, or I will kill you!' I cried, purposely, with a frightful +voice, and I grasped her by the arm. She did not go away. Then I twisted +her arm, and pushed her away violently. + +"'What is the matter with you? Come to your senses!' she shrieked. + +"'Go away,' roared I, louder than ever, rolling my eyes wildly. 'It +takes you to put me in such a fury. I do not answer for myself! Go +away!' + +"In abandoning myself to my anger, I became steeped in it, and I wanted +to commit some violent act to show the force of my fury. I felt a +terrible desire to beat her, to kill her, but I realized that that could +not be, and I restrained myself. I drew back from her, rushed to the +table, grasped the paper-weight, and threw it on the floor by her side. +I took care to aim a little to one side, and, before she disappeared (I +did it so that she could see it), I grasped a candlestick, which I also +hurled, and then took down the barometer, continuing to shout: + +"'Go away! I do not answer for myself!' + +"She disappeared, and I immediately ceased my demonstrations. An hour +later the old servant came to me and said that my wife was in a fit +of hysterics. I went to see her. She sobbed and laughed, incapable of +expressing anything, her whole body in a tremble. She was not shamming, +she was really sick. We sent for the doctor, and all night long I cared +for her. Toward daylight she grew calmer, and we became reconciled under +the influence of that feeling which we called 'love.' The next morning, +when, after the reconciliation, I confessed to her that I was jealous of +Troukhatchevsky, she was not at all embarrassed, and began to laugh in +the most natural way, so strange did the possibility of being led astray +by such a man appear to her. + +"'With such a man can an honest woman entertain any feeling beyond the +pleasure of enjoying music with him? But if you like, I am ready +to never see him again, even on Sunday, although everybody has been +invited. Write him that I am indisposed, and that will end the +matter. Only one thing annoys me,--that any one could have thought him +dangerous. I am too proud not to detest such thoughts.' + +"And she did not lie. She believed what she said. She hoped by her words +to provoke in herself a contempt for him, and thereby to defend herself. +But she did not succeed. Everything was directed against her, especially +that abominable music. So ended the quarrel, and on Sunday our guests +came, and Troukhatchevsky and my wife again played together." + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +"I think that it is superfluous to say that I was very vain. If one +has no vanity in this life of ours, there is no sufficient reason for +living. So for that Sunday I had busied myself in tastefully arranging +things for the dinner and the musical soiree. I had purchased myself +numerous things for the dinner, and had chosen the guests. Toward six +o'clock they arrived, and after them Troukhatchevsky, in his dress-coat, +with diamond shirt-studs, in bad taste. He bore himself with ease. To +all questions he responded promptly, with a smile of contentment and +understanding, and that peculiar expression which was intended to +mean: 'All that you may do and say will be exactly what I expected.' +Everything about him that was not correct I now noticed with especial +pleasure, for it all tended to tranquillize me, and prove to me that to +my wife he stood in such a degree of inferiority that, as she had +told me, she could not stoop to his level. Less because of my wife's +assurances than because of the atrocious sufferings which I felt in +jealousy, I no longer allowed myself to be jealous. + +"In spite of that, I was not at ease with the musician or with her +during dinner-time and the time that elapsed before the beginning of the +music. Involuntarily I followed each of their gestures and looks. +The dinner, like all dinners, was tiresome and conventional. Not long +afterward the music began. He went to get his violin; my wife advanced +to the piano, and rummaged among the scores. Oh, how well I remember all +the details of that evening! I remember how he brought the violin, how +he opened the box, took off the serge embroidered by a lady's hand, and +began to tune the instrument. I can still see my wife sit down, with a +false air of indifference, under which it was plain that she hid a great +timidity, a timidity that was especially due to her comparative lack +of musical knowledge. She sat down with that false air in front of the +piano, and then began the usual preliminaries,--the pizzicati of the +violin and the arrangement of the scores. I remember then how they +looked at each other, and cast a glance at their auditors who were +taking their seats. They said a few words to each other, and the music +began. They played Beethoven's 'Kreutzer Sonata.' Do you know the first +presto? Do you know it? Ah!" . . . + +Posdnicheff heaved a sigh, and was silent for a long time. + +"A terrible thing is that sonata, especially the presto! And a terrible +thing is music in general. What is it? Why does it do what it does? +They say that music stirs the soul. Stupidity! A lie! It acts, it acts +frightfully (I speak for myself), but not in an ennobling way. It acts +neither in an ennobling nor a debasing way, but in an irritating +way. How shall I say it? Music makes me forget my real situation. It +transports me into a state which is not my own. Under the influence of +music I really seem to feel what I do not feel, to understand what I do +not understand, to have powers which I cannot have. Music seems to me to +act like yawning or laughter; I have no desire to sleep, but I yawn when +I see others yawn; with no reason to laugh, I laugh when I hear others +laugh. And music transports me immediately into the condition of soul +in which he who wrote the music found himself at that time. I become +confounded with his soul, and with him I pass from one condition +to another. But why that? I know nothing about it? But he who wrote +Beethoven's 'Kreutzer Sonata' knew well why he found himself in a +certain condition. That condition led him to certain actions, and for +that reason to him had a meaning, but to me none, none whatever. And +that is why music provokes an excitement which it does not bring to a +conclusion. For instance, a military march is played; the soldier +passes to the sound of this march, and the music is finished. A dance +is played; I have finished dancing, and the music is finished. A mass is +sung; I receive the sacrament, and again the music is finished. But +any other music provokes an excitement, and this excitement is not +accompanied by the thing that needs properly to be done, and that is why +music is so dangerous, and sometimes acts so frightfully. + +"In China music is under the control of the State, and that is the way +it ought to be. Is it admissible that the first comer should hypnotize +one or more persons, and then do with them as he likes? And especially +that the hypnotizer should be the first immoral individual who happens +to come along? It is a frightful power in the hands of any one, no +matter whom. For instance, should they be allowed to play this 'Kreutzer +Sonata,' the first presto,--and there are many like it,--in parlors, +among ladies wearing low necked dresses, or in concerts, then finish the +piece, receive the applause, and then begin another piece? These things +should be played under certain circumstances, only in cases where it is +necessary to incite certain actions corresponding to the music. But to +incite an energy of feeling which corresponds to neither the time nor +the place, and is expended in nothing, cannot fail to act dangerously. +On me in particular this piece acted in a frightful manner. One would +have said that new sentiments, new virtualities, of which I was formerly +ignorant, had developed in me. 'Ah, yes, that's it! Not at all as I +lived and thought before! This is the right way to live!' + +"Thus I spoke to my soul as I listened to that music. What was this new +thing that I thus learned? That I did not realize, but the consciousness +of this indefinite state filled me with joy. In that state there was no +room for jealousy. The same faces, and among them HE and my wife, I saw +in a different light. This music transported me into an unknown world, +where there was no room for jealousy. Jealousy and the feelings that +provoke it seemed to me trivialities, nor worth thinking of. + +"After the presto followed the andante, not very new, with commonplace +variations, and the feeble finale. Then they played more, at the request +of the guests,--first an elegy by Ernst, and then various other pieces. +They were all very well, but did not produce upon me a tenth part of the +impression that the opening piece did. I felt light and gay throughout +the evening. As for my wife, never had I seen her as she was that night. +Those brilliant eyes, that severity and majestic expression while she +was playing, and then that utter languor, that weak, pitiable, and happy +smile after she had finished,--I saw them all and attached no importance +to them, believing that she felt as I did, that to her, as to me, new +sentiments had been revealed, as through a fog. During almost the whole +evening I was not jealous. + +"Two days later I was to start for the assembly of the Zemstvo, and for +that reason, on taking leave of me and carrying all his scores with him, +Troukhatchevsky asked me when I should return. I inferred from that that +he believed it impossible to come to my house during my absence, and +that was agreeable to me. Now I was not to return before his departure +from the city. So we bade each other a definite farewell. For the +first time I shook his hand with pleasure, and thanked him for the +satisfaction that he had given me. He likewise took leave of my wife, +and their parting seemed to me very natural and proper. All went +marvellously. My wife and I retired, well satisfied with the evening. We +talked of our impressions in a general way, and we were nearer together +and more friendly than we had been for a long time." + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +"Two days later I started for the assembly, having bid farewell to my +wife in an excellent and tranquil state of mind. In the district there +was always much to be done. It was a world and a life apart. During two +days I spent ten hours at the sessions. The evening of the second day, +on returning to my district lodgings, I found a letter from my wife, +telling me of the children, of their uncle, of the servants, and, among +other things, as if it were perfectly natural, that Troukhatchevsky had +been at the house, and had brought her the promised scores. He had also +proposed that they play again, but she had refused. + +"For my part, I did not remember at all that he had promised any score. +It had seemed to me on Sunday evening that he took a definite leave, +and for this reason the news gave me a disagreeable surprise. I read the +letter again. There was something tender and timid about it. It produced +an extremely painful impression upon me. My heart swelled, and the mad +beast of jealousy began to roar in his lair, and seemed to want to leap +upon his prey. But I was afraid of this beast, and I imposed silence +upon it. + +"What an abominable sentiment is jealousy! 'What could be more natural +than what she has written?' said I to myself. I went to bed, thinking +myself tranquil again. I thought of the business that remained to be +done, and I went to sleep without thinking of her. + +"During these assemblies of the Zemstvo I always slept badly in my +strange quarters. That night I went to sleep directly, but, as sometimes +happens, a sort of sudden shock awoke me. I thought immediately of her, +of my physical love for her, of Troukhatchevsky, and that between them +everything had happened. And a feeling of rage compressed my heart, and +I tried to quiet myself. + +"'How stupid!' said I to myself; 'there is no reason, none at all. And +why humiliate ourselves, herself and myself, and especially myself, +by supposing such horrors? This mercenary violinist, known as a bad +man,--shall I think of him in connection with a respectable woman, the +mother of a family, MY wife? How silly!' But on the other hand, I said +to myself: 'Why should it not happen?' + +"Why? Was it not the same simple and intelligible feeling in the name +of which I married, in the name of which I was living with her, the only +thing I wanted of her, and that which, consequently, others desired, +this musician among the rest? He was not married, was in good health +(I remember how his teeth ground the gristle of the cutlets, and how +eagerly he emptied the glass of wine with his red lips), was careful +of his person, well fed, and not only without principles, but evidently +with the principle that one should take advantage of the pleasure that +offers itself. There was a bond between them, music,--the most refined +form of sensual voluptuousness. What was there to restrain them? +Nothing. Everything, on the contrary, attracted them. And she, she had +been and had remained a mystery. I did not know her. I knew her only +as an animal, and an animal nothing can or should restrain. And now +I remember their faces on Sunday evening, when, after the 'Kreutzer +Sonata,' they played a passionate piece, written I know not by whom, but +a piece passionate to the point of obscenity. + +"'How could I have gone away?' said I to myself, as I recalled their +faces. 'Was it not clear that between them everything was done that +evening? Was it not clear that between them not only there were no more +obstacles, but that both--especially she--felt a certain shame after +what had happened at the piano? How weakly, pitiably, happily she +smiled, as she wiped the perspiration from her reddened face! They +already avoided each other's eyes, and only at the supper, when she +poured some water for him, did they look at each other and smile +imperceptibly.' + +"Now I remember with fright that look and that scarcely perceptible +smile. 'Yes, everything has happened,' a voice said to me, and directly +another said the opposite. 'Are you mad? It is impossible!' said the +second voice. + +"It was too painful to me to remain thus stretched in the darkness. +I struck a match, and the little yellow-papered room frightened me. I +lighted a cigarette, and, as always happens, when one turns in a circle +of inextricable contradiction, I began to smoke. I smoked cigarette +after cigarette to dull my senses, that I might not see my +contradictions. All night I did not sleep, and at five o'clock, when it +was not yet light, I decided that I could stand this strain no longer, +and that I would leave directly. There was a train at eight o'clock. I +awakened the keeper who was acting as my servant, and sent him to look +for horses. To the assembly of Zemstvo I sent a message that I was +called back to Moscow by pressing business, and that I begged them to +substitute for me a member of the Committee. At eight o'clock I got into +a tarantass and started off." + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +"I had to go twenty-five versts by carriage and eight hours by train. +By carriage it was a very pleasant journey. The coolness of autumn was +accompanied by a brilliant sun. You know the weather when the wheels +imprint themselves upon the dirty road. The road was level, and the +light strong, and the air strengthening. The tarantass was comfortable. +As I looked at the horses, the fields, and the people whom we passed, +I forgot where I was going. Sometimes it seemed to me that I was +travelling without an object,--simply promenading,--and that I should +go on thus to the end of the world. And I was happy when I so forgot +myself. But when I remembered where I was going, I said to myself: 'I +shall see later. Don't think about it.' + +"When half way, an incident happened to distract me still further. The +tarantass, though new, broke down, and had to be repaired. The delays in +looking for a telegue, the repairs, the payment, the tea in the inn, the +conversation with the dvornik, all served to amuse me. Toward nightfall +all was ready, and I started off again. By night the journey was still +pleasanter than by day. The moon in its first quarter, a slight frost, +the road still in good condition, the horses, the sprightly coachman, +all served to put me in good spirits. I scarcely thought of what awaited +me, and was gay perhaps because of the very thing that awaited me, and +because I was about to say farewell to the joys of life. + +"But this tranquil state, the power of conquering my preoccupation, all +ended with the carriage drive. Scarcely had I entered the cars, when the +other thing began. Those eight hours on the rail were so terrible to me +that I shall never forget them in my life. Was it because on entering +the car I had a vivid imagination of having already arrived, or because +the railway acts upon people in such an exciting fashion? At any rate, +after boarding the train I could no longer control my imagination, which +incessantly, with extraordinary vivacity, drew pictures before my eyes, +each more cynical than its predecessor, which kindled my jealousy. +And always the same things about what was happening at home during +my absence. I burned with indignation, with rage, and with a peculiar +feeling which steeped me in humiliation, as I contemplated these +pictures. And I could not tear myself out of this condition. I could +not help looking at them, I could not efface them, I could not keep from +evoking them. + +"The more I looked at these imaginary pictures, the more I believed +in their reality, forgetting that they had no serious foundation. The +vivacity of these images seemed to prove to me that my imaginations +were a reality. One would have said that a demon, against my will, +was inventing and breathing into me the most terrible fictions. +A conversation which dated a long time back, with the brother of +Troukhatchevsky, I remembered at that moment, in a sort of ecstasy, and +it tore my heart as I connected it with the musician and my wife. Yes, +it was very long ago. The brother of Troukhatchevsky, answering my +questions as to whether he frequented disreputable houses, said that a +respectable man does not go where he may contract a disease, in a low +and unclean spot, when one can find an honest woman. And here he, his +brother, the musician, had found the honest woman. 'It is true that she +is no longer in her early youth. She has lost a tooth on one side, and +her face is slightly bloated,' thought I for Troukhatchevsky. 'But what +is to be done? One must profit by what one has.' + +"'Yes, he is bound to take her for his mistress,' said I to myself +again; 'and besides, she is not dangerous.' + +"'No, it is not possible' I rejoined in fright. 'Nothing, nothing of the +kind has happened, and there is no reason to suppose there has. Did she +not tell me that the very idea that I could be jealous of her because of +him was humiliating to her?' 'Yes, but she lied,' I cried, and all began +over again. + +"There were only two travellers in my compartment: an old woman with her +husband, neither of them very talkative; and even they got out at one of +the stations, leaving me all alone. I was like a beast in a cage. Now I +jumped up and approached the window, now I began to walk back and forth, +staggering as if I hoped to make the train go faster by my efforts, and +the car with its seats and its windows trembled continually, as ours +does now." + +And Posdnicheff rose abruptly, took a few steps, and sat down again. + +"Oh, I am afraid, I am afraid of railway carriages. Fear seizes me. I +sat down again, and I said to myself: 'I must think of something else. +For instance, of the inn keeper at whose house I took tea.' And then, in +my imagination arose the dvornik, with his long beard, and his grandson, +a little fellow of the same age as my little Basile. My little Basile! +My little Basile! He will see the musician kiss his mother! What +thoughts will pass through his poor soul! But what does that matter to +her! She loves. + +"And again it all began, the circle of the same thoughts. I suffered +so much that at last I did not know what to do with myself, and an idea +passed through my head that pleased me much,--to get out upon the rails, +throw myself under the cars, and thus finish everything. One thing +prevented me from doing so. It was pity! It was pity for myself, evoking +at the same time a hatred for her, for him, but not so much for him. +Toward him I felt a strange sentiment of my humiliation and his victory, +but toward her a terrible hatred. + +"'But I cannot kill myself and leave her free. She must suffer, she must +understand at least that I have suffered,' said I to myself. + +"At a station I saw people drinking at the lunch counter, and directly I +went to swallow a glass of vodki. Beside me stood a Jew, drinking also. +He began to talk to me, and I, in order not to be left alone in my +compartment, went with him into his third-class, dirty, full of smoke, +and covered with peelings and sunflower seeds. There I sat down beside +the Jew, and, as it seemed, he told many anecdotes. + +"First I listened to him, but I did not understand what he said. He +noticed it, and exacted my attention to his person. Then I rose and +entered my own compartment. + +"'I must consider,' said I to myself, 'whether what I think is true, +whether there is any reason to torment myself.' I sat down, wishing to +reflect quietly; but directly, instead of the peaceful reflections, the +same thing began again. Instead of the reasoning, the pictures. + +"'How many times have I tormented myself in this way,' I thought (I +recalled previous and similar fits of jealousy), 'and then seen it end +in nothing at all? It is the same now. Perhaps, yes, surely, I shall +find her quietly sleeping. She will awaken, she will be glad, and in her +words and looks I shall see that nothing has happened, that all this is +vain. Ah, if it would only so turn out!' 'But no, that has happened too +often! Now the end has come,' a voice said to me. + +"And again it all began. Ah, what torture! It is not to a hospital +filled with syphilitic patients that I would take a young man to deprive +him of the desire for women, but into my soul, to show him the demon +which tore it. The frightful part was that I recognized in myself an +indisputable right to the body of my wife, as if her body were entirely +mine. And at the same time I felt that I could not possess this body, +that it was not mine, that she could do with it as she liked, and that +she liked to do with it as I did not like. And I was powerless against +him and against her. He, like the Vanka of the song, would sing, before +mounting the gallows, how he would kiss her sweet lips, etc., and he +would even have the best of it before death. With her it was still +worse. If she HAD NOT DONE IT, she had the desire, she wished to do it, +and I knew that she did. That was worse yet. It would be better if she +had already done it, to relieve me of my uncertainty. + +"In short, I could not say what I desired. I desired that she might not +want what she MUST want. It was complete madness." + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +"At the station before the last, when the conductor came to take the +tickets, I took my baggage and went out on the car platform, and +the consciousness that the climax was near at hand only added to my +agitation. I was cold, my jaw trembled so that my teeth chattered. +Mechanically I left the station with the crowd, I took a tchik, and I +started. I looked at the few people passing in the streets and at the +dvorniks. I read the signs, without thinking of anything. After going +half a verst my feet began to feel cold, and I remembered that in the +car I had taken off my woollen socks, and had put them in my travelling +bag. Where had I put the bag? Was it with me? Yes, and the basket? + +"I bethought myself that I had totally forgotten my baggage. I took out +my check, and then decided it was not worth while to return. I continued +on my way. In spite of all my efforts to remember, I cannot at this +moment make out why I was in such a hurry. I know only that I was +conscious that a serious and menacing event was approaching in my life. +It was a case of real auto-suggestion. Was it so serious because I +thought it so? Or had I a presentiment? I do not know. Perhaps, too, +after what has happened, all previous events have taken on a lugubrious +tint in my memory. + +"I arrived at the steps. It was an hour past midnight. A few isvotchiks +were before the door, awaiting customers, attracted by the lighted +windows (the lighted windows were those of our parlor and reception +room). Without trying to account for this late illumination, I went up +the steps, always with the same expectation of something terrible, and +I rang. The servant, a good, industrious, and very stupid being, named +Gregor, opened the door. The first thing that leaped to my eyes in the +hall, on the hat-stand, among other garments, was an overcoat. I ought +to have been astonished, but I was not astonished. I expected it. +'That's it!' I said to myself. + +"When I had asked Gregor who was there, and he had named +Troukhatchevsky, I inquired whether there were other visitors. He +answered: 'Nobody.' I remember the air with which he said that, with +a tone that was intended to give me pleasure, and dissipate my doubts. +'That's it! that's it!' I had the air of saying to myself. 'And the +children?' + +"'Thank God, they are very well. They went to sleep long ago.' + +"I scarcely breathed, and I could not keep my jaw from trembling. + +"Then it was not as I thought. I had often before returned home with the +thought that a misfortune had awaited me, but had been mistaken, and +everything was going on as usual. But now things were not going on as +usual. All that I had imagined, all that I believed to be chimeras, all +really existed. Here was the truth. + +"I was on the point of sobbing, but straightway the demon whispered in +my ear: 'Weep and be sentimental, and they will separate quietly, and +there will be no proofs, and all your life you will doubt and suffer.' +And pity for myself vanished, and there remained only the bestial need +of some adroit, cunning, and energetic action. I became a beast, an +intelligent beast. + +"'No, no,' said I to Gregor, who was about to announce my arrival. 'Do +this, take a carriage, and go at once for my baggage. Here is the check. +Start.' + +"He went along the hall to get his overcoat. Fearing lest he might +frighten them, I accompanied him to his little room, and waited for him +to put on his things. In the dining-room could be heard the sound of +conversation and the rattling of knives and plates. They were eating. +They had not heard the ring. 'Now if they only do not go out,' I +thought. + +"Gregor put on his fur-collared coat and went out. I closed the door +after him. I felt anxious when I was alone, thinking that directly I +should have to act. How? I did not yet know. I knew only that all was +ended, that there could be no doubt of his innocence, and that in an +instant my relations with her were going to be terminated. Before, I had +still doubts. I said to myself: 'Perhaps this is not true. Perhaps I am +mistaken.' Now all doubt had disappeared. All was decided irrevocably. +Secretly, all alone with him, at night! It is a violation of all duties! +Or, worse yet, she may make a show of that audacity, of that insolence +in crime, which, by its excess, tends to prove innocence. All is clear. +No doubt. I feared but one thing,--that they might run in different +directions, that they might invent some new lie, and thus deprive me of +material proof, and of the sorrowful joy of punishing, yes, of executing +them. + +"And to surprise them more quickly, I started on tiptoe for the +dining-room, not through the parlor, but through the hall and the +children's rooms. In the first room slept the little boy. In the second, +the old nurse moved in her bed, and seemed on the point of waking, and +I wondered what she would think when she knew all. And pity for myself +gave me such a pang that I could not keep the tears back. Not to wake +the children, I ran lightly through the hall into my study. I dropped +upon the sofa, and sobbed. 'I, an honest man, I, the son of my parents, +who all my life long have dreamed of family happiness, I who have never +betrayed! . . . And here my five children, and she embracing a musician +because he has red lips! No, she is not a woman! She is a bitch, a dirty +bitch! Beside the chamber of the children, whom she had pretended to +love all her life! And then to think of what she wrote me! And how do +I know? Perhaps it has always been thus. Perhaps all these children, +supposed to be mine, are the children of my servants. And if I had +arrived to-morrow, she would have come to meet me with her coiffure, +with her corsage, her indolent and graceful movements (and I see her +attractive and ignoble features), and this jealous animal would have +remained forever in my heart, tearing it. What will the old nurse say? +And Gregor? And the poor little Lise? She already understands things. +And this impudence, this falsehood, this bestial sensuality, that I know +so well,' I said to myself. + +"I tried to rise. I could not. My heart was beating so violently that +I could not hold myself upon my legs. 'Yes, I shall die of a rush of +blood. She will kill me. That is what she wants. What is it to her to +kill? But that would be too agreeable to him, and I will not allow him +to have this pleasure. + +"Yes, here I am, and there they are. They are laughing, they. . . . Yes, +in spite of the fact that she is no longer in her early youth, he has +not disdained her. At any rate, she is by no means ugly, and above +all, not dangerous to his dear health, to him. Why did I not stifle +her then?' said I to myself, as I remembered that other scene of the +previous week, when I drove her from my study, and broke the furniture. + +"And I recalled the state in which I was then. Not only did I recall it, +but I again entered into the same bestial state. And suddenly there came +to me a desire to act, and all reasoning, except such as was necessary +to action, vanished from my brain, and I was in the condition of a +beast, and of a man under the influence of physical excitement pending a +danger, who acts imperturbably, without haste, and yet without losing a +minute, pursuing a definite object. + +"The first thing that I did was to take off my boots, and now, having +only stockings on, I advanced toward the wall, over the sofa, where +firearms and daggers were hanging, and I took down a curved Damascus +blade, which I had never used, and which was very sharp. I took it from +its sheath. I remember that the sheath fell upon the sofa, and that I +said to myself: 'I must look for it later; it must not be lost.' + +"Then I took off my overcoat, which I had kept on all the time, and with +wolf-like tread started for THE ROOM. I do not remember how I proceeded, +whether I ran or went slowly, through what chambers I passed, how I +approached the dining-room, how I opened the door, how I entered. I +remember nothing about it." + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +"I Remember only the expression of their faces when I opened the door. I +remember that, because it awakened in me a feeling of sorrowful joy. +It was an expression of terror, such as I desired. Never shall I forget +that desperate and sudden fright that appeared on their faces when they +saw me. He, I believe, was at the table, and, when he saw or heard me, +he started, jumped to his feet, and retreated to the sideboard. Fear +was the only sentiment that could be read with certainty in his face. +In hers, too, fear was to be read, but accompanied by other impressions. +And yet, if her face had expressed only fear, perhaps that which +happened would not have happened. But in the expression of her face +there was at the first moment--at least, I thought I saw it--a feeling +of ennui, of discontent, at this disturbance of her love and happiness. +One would have said that her sole desire was not to be disturbed IN THE +MOMENT OF HER HAPPINESS. But these expressions appeared upon their +faces only for a moment. Terror almost immediately gave place to +interrogation. Would they lie or not? If yes, they must begin. If not, +something else was going to happen. But what? + +"He gave her a questioning glance. On her face the expression of anguish +and ennui changed, it seemed to me, when she looked at him, into an +expression of anxiety for HIM. For a moment I stood in the doorway, +holding the dagger hidden behind my back. Suddenly he smiled, and in a +voice that was indifferent almost to the point of ridicule, he said: + +"'We were having some music.' + +"'I did not expect--,' she began at the same time, chiming in with the +tone of the other. + +"But neither he nor she finished their remarks. The same rage that I had +felt the previous week took possession of me. I felt the need of giving +free course to my violence and 'the joy of wrath.' + +"No, they did not finish. That other thing was going to begin, of which +he was afraid, and was going to annihilate what they wanted to say. +I threw myself upon her, still hiding the dagger, that he might not +prevent me from striking where I desired, in her bosom, under the +breast. At that moment he saw . . . and, what I did not expect on his +part, he quickly seized my hand, and cried: + +"'Come to your senses! What are you doing? Help! Help!' + +"I tore my hands from his grasp, and leaped upon him. I must have been +very terrible, for he turned as white as a sheet, to his lips. His eyes +scintillated singularly, and--again what I did not expect of him--he +scrambled under the piano, toward the other room. I tried to follow him, +but a very heavy weight fell upon my left arm. It was she. + +"I made an effort to clear myself. She clung more heavily than ever, +refusing to let go. This unexpected obstacle, this burden, and this +repugnant touch only irritated me the more. I perceived that I was +completely mad, that I must be frightful, and I was glad of it. With +a sudden impulse, and with all my strength, I dealt her, with my left +elbow, a blow squarely in the face. + +"She uttered a cry and let go my arm. I wanted to follow the other, but +I felt that it would be ridiculous to pursue in my stockings the lover +of my wife, and I did not wish to be grotesque, I wished to be terrible. +In spite of my extreme rage, I was all the time conscious of the +impression that I was making upon others, and even this impression +partially guided me. + +"I turned toward her. She had fallen on the long easy chair, and, +covering her face at the spot where I had struck her, she looked at me. +Her features exhibited fear and hatred toward me, her enemy, such as the +rat exhibits when one lifts the rat-trap. At least, I saw nothing in her +but that fear and hatred, the fear and hatred which love for another had +provoked. Perhaps I still should have restrained myself, and should +not have gone to the last extremity, if she had maintained silence. But +suddenly she began to speak; she grasped my hand that held the dagger. + +"'Come to your senses! What are you doing? What is the matter with you? +Nothing has happened, nothing, nothing! I swear it to you!' + +"I might have delayed longer, but these last words, from which I +inferred the contrary of what they affirmed,--that is, that EVERYTHING +had happened,--these words called for a reply. And the reply must +correspond to the condition into which I had lashed myself, and which +was increasing and must continue to increase. Rage has its laws. + +"'Do not lie, wretch. Do not lie!' I roared. + +"With my left hand I seized her hands. She disengaged herself. Then, +without dropping my dagger, I seized her by the throat, forced her to +the floor, and began to strangle her. With her two hands she clutched +mine, tearing them from her throat, stifling. Then I struck her a blow +with the dagger, in the left side, between the lower ribs. + +"When people say that they do not remember what they do in a fit of +fury, they talk nonsense. It is false. I remember everything. + +"I did not lose my consciousness for a single moment. The more I lashed +myself to fury, the clearer my mind became, and I could not help seeing +what I did. I cannot say that I knew in advance what I would do, but at +the moment when I acted, and it seems to me even a little before, I knew +what I was doing, as if to make it possible to repent, and to be able to +say later that I could have stopped. + +"I knew that I struck the blow between the ribs, and that the dagger +entered. + +"At the second when I did it, I knew that I was performing a horrible +act, such as I had never performed,--an act that would have frightful +consequences. My thought was as quick as lightning, and the deed +followed immediately. The act, to my inner sense, had an extraordinary +clearness. I perceived the resistance of the corset and then something +else, and then the sinking of the knife into a soft substance. She +clutched at the dagger with her hands, and cut herself with it, but +could not restrain the blow. + +"Long afterward, in prison when the moral revolution had been effected +within me, I thought of that minute, I remembered it as far as I could, +and I co-ordinated all the sudden changes. I remembered the terrible +consciousness which I felt,--that I was killing a wife, MY wife. + +"I well remember the horror of that consciousness and I know vaguely +that, having plunged in the dagger, I drew it out again immediately, +wishing to repair and arrest my action. She straightened up and cried: + +"'Nurse, he has killed me!' + +"The old nurse, who had heard the noise, was standing in the doorway. I +was still erect, waiting, and not believing myself in what had happened. +But at that moment, from under her corset, the blood gushed forth. Then +only did I understand that all reparation was impossible, and promptly +I decided that it was not even necessary, that all had happened in +accordance with my wish, and that I had fulfilled my desire. I waited +until she fell, and until the nurse, exclaiming, 'Oh, my God!' ran to +her; then only I threw away the dagger and went out of the room. + +"'I must not be agitated. I must be conscious of what I am doing,' I +said to myself, looking neither at her nor at the old nurse. The latter +cried and called the maid. I passed through the hall, and, after having +sent the maid, started for my study. + +"'What shall I do now?' I asked myself. + +"And immediately I understood what I should do. Directly after entering +the study, I went straight to the wall, took down the revolver, and +examined it attentively. It was loaded. Then I placed it on the table. +Next I picked up the sheath of the dagger, which had dropped down +behind the sofa, and then I sat down. I remained thus for a long time. +I thought of nothing, I did not try to remember anything. I heard a +stifled noise of steps, a movement of objects and of tapestries, then +the arrival of a person, and then the arrival of another person. Then +I saw Gregor bring into my room the baggage from the railway; as if any +one needed it! + +"'Have you heard what has happened?' I asked him. 'Have you told the +dvornik to inform the police?' + +"He made no answer, and went out. I rose, closed the door, took the +cigarettes and the matches, and began to smoke. I had not finished one +cigarette, when a drowsy feeling came over me and sent me into a deep +sleep. I surely slept two hours. I remember having dreamed that I was on +good terms with her, that after a quarrel we were in the act of making +up, that something prevented us, but that we were friends all the same. + +"A knock at the door awoke me. + +"'It is the police,' thought I, as I opened my eyes. 'I have killed, I +believe. But perhaps it is SHE; perhaps nothing has happened.' + +"Another knock. I did not answer. I was solving the question: 'Has it +happened or not? Yes, it has happened.' + +"I remembered the resistance of the corset, and then. . . . 'Yes, it has +happened. Yes, it has happened. Yes, now I must execute myself,' said I +to myself. + +"I said it, but I knew well that I should not kill myself. Nevertheless, +I rose and took the revolver, but, strange thing, I remembered that +formerly I had very often had suicidal ideas, that that very night, on +the cars, it had seemed to me easy, especially easy because I thought +how it would stupefy her. Now I not only could not kill myself, but I +could not even think of it. + +"'Why do it?' I asked myself, without answering. + +"Another knock at the door. + +"'Yes, but I must first know who is knocking. I have time enough.' + +"I put the revolver back on the table, and hid it under my newspaper. I +went to the door and drew back the bolt. + +"It was my wife's sister,--a good and stupid widow. + +"'Basile, what does this mean?' said she, and her tears, always ready, +began to flow. + +"'What do you want?' I asked roughly. + +"I saw clearly that there was no necessity of being rough with her, but +I could not speak in any other tone. + +"'Basile, she is dying. Ivan Fedorowitch says so.' + +"Ivan Fedorowitch was the doctor, HER doctor, her counsellor. + +"'Is he here?' I inquired. + +"And all my hatred of her arose anew. + +"Well, what? + +"'Basile, go to her! Ah! how terrible it is!' said she. + +"'Go to her?' I asked myself; and immediately I made answer to myself +that I ought to go, that probably that was the thing that is usually +done when a husband like myself kills his wife, that it was absolutely +necessary that I should go and see her. + +"'If that is the proper thing, I must go,' I repeated to myself. 'Yes, +if it is necessary, I shall still have time,' said I to myself, thinking +of my intention of blowing my brains out. + +"And I followed my sister-in-law. 'Now there are going to be phrases and +grimaces, but I will not yield,' I declared to myself. + +"'Wait,' said I to my sister-in-law, 'it is stupid to be without boots. +Let me at least put on my slippers.'" + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +"Strange thing! Again, when I had left my study, and was passing through +the familiar rooms, again the hope came to me that nothing had happened. +But the odor of the drugs, iodoform and phenic acid, brought me back to +a sense of reality. + +"'No, everything has happened.' + +"In passing through the hall, beside the children's chamber, I saw +little Lise. She was looking at me, with eyes that were full of fear. I +even thought that all the children were looking at me. As I approached +the door of our sleeping-room, a servant opened it from within, and +came out. The first thing that I noticed was HER light gray dress upon +a chair, all dark with blood. On our common bed she was stretched, with +knees drawn up. + +"She lay very high, upon pillows, with her chemise half open. Linen had +been placed upon the wound. A heavy smell of iodoform filled the room. +Before, and more than anything else, I was astonished at her face, which +was swollen and bruised under the eyes and over a part of the nose. This +was the result of the blow that I had struck her with my elbow, when +she had tried to hold me back. Of beauty there was no trace left. I saw +something hideous in her. I stopped upon the threshold. + +"'Approach, approach her,' said her sister. + +"'Yes, probably she repents,' thought I; 'shall I forgive her? Yes, she +is dying, I must forgive her,' I added, trying to be generous. + +"I approached the bedside. With difficulty she raised her eyes, one of +which was swollen, and uttered these words haltingly: + +"'You have accomplished what you desired. You have killed me.' + +"And in her face, through the physical sufferings, in spite of the +approach of death, was expressed the same old hatred, so familiar to me. + +"'The children . . . I will not give them to you . . . all the +same. . . . She (her sister) shall take them.' . . . + +"But of that which I considered essential, of her fault, of her treason, +one would have said that she did not think it necessary to say even a +word. + +"'Yes, revel in what you have done.' + +"And she sobbed. + +"At the door stood her sister with the children. + +"'Yes, see what you have done!' + +"I cast a glance at the children, and then at her bruised and swollen +face, and for the first time I forgot myself (my rights, my pride), and +for the first time I saw in her a human being, a sister. + +"And all that which a moment before had been so offensive to me now +seemed to me so petty,--all this jealousy,--and, on the contrary, what +I had done seemed to me so important that I felt like bending over, +approaching my face to her hand, and saying: + +"'Forgive me!' + +"But I did not dare. She was silent, with eyelids lowered, evidently +having no strength to speak further. Then her deformed face began to +tremble and shrivel, and she feebly pushed me back. + +"'Why has all this happened? Why?' + +"'Forgive me,' said I. + +"'Yes, if you had not killed me,' she cried suddenly, and her eyes shone +feverishly. 'Forgiveness--that is nothing. . . . If I only do not die! +Ah, you have accomplished what you desired! I hate you!' + +"Then she grew delirious. She was frightened, and cried: + +"'Fire, I do not fear . . . but strike them all . . . He has gone. . . . +He has gone.' . . . + +"The delirium continued. She no longer recognized the children, not even +little Lise, who had approached. Toward noon she died. As for me, I was +arrested before her death, at eight o'clock in the morning. They took +me to the police station, and then to prison, and there, during eleven +months, awaiting the verdict, I reflected upon myself, and upon my past, +and I understood it. Yes, I began to understand from the third day. The +third day they took me to the house." . . . + +Posdnicheff seemed to wish to add something, but, no longer having the +strength to repress his sobs, he stopped. After a few minutes, having +recovered his calmness, he resumed: + +"I began to understand only when I saw her in the coffin." . . . + +He uttered a sob, and then immediately continued, with haste: + +"Then only, when I saw her dead face, did I understand all that I had +done. I understood that it was I, I, who had killed her. I understood +that I was the cause of the fact that she, who had been a moving, +living, palpitating being, had now become motionless and cold, and that +there was no way of repairing this thing. He who has not lived through +that cannot understand it." + +***** + +We remained silent a long time. Posdnicheff sobbed and trembled before +me. His face had become delicate and long, and his mouth had grown +larger. + +"Yes," said he suddenly, "if I had known what I now know, I should never +have married her, never, not for anything." + +Again we remained silent for a long time. + +"Yes, that is what I have done, that is my experience, We must +understand the real meaning of the words of the Gospel,--Matthew, V. +28,--'that whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed +adultery'; and these words relate to the wife, to the sister, and not +only to the wife of another, but especially to one's own wife." + +THE END. + + +If the reading of this book has interested you, do not fail to get its +sequel, entitled "KREUTZER SONATA BEARING FRUIT," by Pauline Grayson, +which is an exceedingly interesting narrative showing one of the results +of the ideas set forth in "Kreutzer Sonata." It is bound in paper +covers and will be sent by mail, postage paid, upon receipt of 25 cents. +Address all orders to J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, 57 Rose Street, +New York. + + + + +LESSON OF "THE KREUTZER SONATA." + +I have received, and still continue to receive, numbers of letters from +persons who are perfect strangers to me, asking me to state in plain +and simple language my own views on the subject handled in the story +entitled "The Kreutzer Sonata." With this request I shall now endeavor +to comply. + +My views on the question may be succinctly stated as follows: Without +entering into details, it will be generally admitted that I am accurate +in saying that many people condone in young men a course of conduct with +regard to the other sex which is incompatible with strict morality, +and that this dissoluteness is pardoned generally. Both parents and +the government, in consequence of this view, may be said to wink at +profligacy, and even in the last resource to encourage its practice. I +am of opinion that this is not right. + +It is not possible that the health of one class should necessitate the +ruin of another, and, in consequence, it is our first duty to turn a +deaf ear to such an essential immoral doctrine, no matter how strongly +society may have established or law protected it. Moreover, it needs to +be fully recognized that men are rightly to be held responsible for +the consequences of their own acts, and that these are no longer to be +visited on the woman alone. It follows from this that it is the duty of +men who do not wish to lead a life of infamy to practice such continence +in respect to all woman as they would were the female society in which +they move made up exclusively of their own mothers and sisters. + +A more rational mode of life should be adopted which would include +abstinence from all alcoholic drinks, from excess in eating and from +flesh meat, on the one hand, and recourse to physical labor on the +other. I am not speaking of gymnastics, or of any of those occupations +which may be fitly described as playing at work; I mean the genuine toil +that fatigues. No one need go far in search of proofs that this kind of +abstemious living is not merely possible, but far less hurtful to health +than excess. Hundreds of instances are known to every one. This is my +first contention. + +In the second place, I think that of late years, through various reasons +which I need not enter, but among which the above-mentioned laxity +of opinion in society and the frequent idealization of the subject in +current literature and painting may be mentioned, conjugal infidelity +has become more common and is considered less reprehensible. I am of +opinion that this is not right. The origin of the evil is twofold. It is +due, in the first place, to a natural instinct, and, in the second, to +the elevation of this instinct to a place to which it does not rightly +belong. This being so, the evil can only be remedied by effecting a +change in the views now in vogue about "falling in love" and all that +this term implies, by educating men and women at home through family +influence and example, and abroad by means of healthy public opinion, to +practice that abstinence which morality and Christianity alike enjoin. +This is my second contention. + +In the third place I am of opinion that another consequence of the false +light in which "falling in love," and what it leads to, are viewed +in our society, is that the birth of children has lost its pristine +significance, and that modern marriages are conceived less and less from +the point of view of the family. I am of opinion that this is not right. +This is my third contention. + +In the fourth place, I am of opinion that the children (who in our +society are considered an obstacle to enjoyment--an unlucky accident, as +it were) are educated not with a view to the problem which they will be +one day called on to face and to solve, but solely with an eye to +the pleasure which they may be made to yield to their parents. The +consequence is, that the children of human beings are brought up for +all the world like the young of animals, the chief care of their parents +being not to train them to such work as is worthy of men and women, but +to increase their weight, or add a cubit to their stature, to make them +spruce, sleek, well-fed, and comely. They rig them out in all manner of +fantastic costumes, wash them, over-feed them, and refuse to make them +work. If the children of the lower orders differ in this last respect +from those of the well-to-do classes, the difference is merely formal; +they work from sheer necessity, and not because their parents recognize +work as a duty. And in over-fed children, as in over-fed animals, +sensuality is engendered unnaturally early. + +Fashionable dress to-day, the course of reading, plays, music, dances, +luscious food, all the elements of our modern life, in a word, from the +pictures on the little boxes of sweetmeats up to the novel, the tale, +and the poem, contribute to fan this sensuality into a strong, consuming +flame, with the result that sexual vices and diseases have come to be +the normal conditions of the period of tender youth, and often continue +into the riper age of full-blown manhood. And I am of opinion that this +is not right. + +It is high time it ceased. The children of human beings should not be +brought up as if they were animals; and we should set up as the object +and strive to maintain as the result of our labors something better and +nobler than a well-dressed body. This is my fourth contention. + +In the fifth place, I am of opinion that, owing to the exaggerated and +erroneous significance attributed by our society to love and to the +idealized states that accompany and succeed it, the best energies of our +men and women are drawn forth and exhausted during the most promising +period of life; those of the men in the work of looking for, choosing, +and winning the most desirable objects of love, for which purpose lying +and fraud are held to be quite excusable; those of the women and girls +in alluring men and decoying them into liaisons or marriage by the most +questionable means conceivable, as an instance of which the present +fashions in evening dress may be cited. I am of opinion that this is not +right. + +The truth is, that the whole affair has been exalted by poets and +romancers to an undue importance, and that love in its various +developments is not a fitting object to consume the best energies of +men. People set it before them and strive after it, because their view +of life is as vulgar and brutish as is that other conception frequently +met with in the lower stages of development, which sees in luscious +and abundant food an end worthy of man's best efforts. Now, this is not +right and should not be done. And, in order to avoid doing it, it is +only needful to realize the fact that whatever truly deserves to be held +up as a worthy object of man's striving and working, whether it be the +service of humanity, of one's country, of science, of art, not to speak +of the service of God, is far above and beyond the sphere of personal +enjoyment. Hence, it follows that not only to form a liaison, but +even to contract marriage, is, from a Christian point of view, not a +progress, but a fall. Love, and all the states that accompany and follow +it, however we may try in prose and verse to prove the contrary, never +do and never can facilitate the attainment of an aim worthy of men, but +always make it more difficult. This is my fifth contention. + +How about the human race? If we admit that celibacy is better and nobler +than marriage, evidently the human race will come to an end. But, if the +logical conclusion of the argument is that the human race will become +extinct, the whole reasoning is wrong. + +To that I reply that the argument is not mine; I did not invent it. That +it is incumbent on mankind so to strive, and that celibacy is preferable +to marriage, are truths revealed by Christ 1,900 years ago, set forth in +our catechisms, and professed by us as followers of Christ. + +Chastity and celibacy, it is urged, cannot constitute the ideal of +humanity, because chastity would annihilate the race which strove +to realize it, and humanity cannot set up as its ideal its own +annihilation. It may be pointed out in reply that only that is a true +ideal, which, being unattainable, admits of infinite gradation in +degrees of proximity. Such is the Christian ideal of the founding of +God's kingdom, the union of all living creatures by the bonds of love. +The conception of its attainment is incompatible with the conception +of the movement of life. What kind of life could subsist if all +living creatures were joined together by the bonds of love? None. Our +conception of life is inseparably bound up with the conception of a +continual striving after an unattainable ideal. + +But even if we suppose the Christian ideal of perfect chastity realized, +what then? We should merely find ourselves face to face on the one hand +with the familiar teaching of religion, one of whose dogmas is that the +world will have an end; and on the other of so-called science, which +informs us that the sun is gradually losing its heat, the result of +which will in time be the extinction of the human race. + +Now there is not and cannot be such an institution as Christian +marriage, just as there cannot be such a thing as a Christian liturgy +(Matt. vi. 5-12; John iv. 21), nor Christian teachers, nor church +fathers (Matt. xxiii. 8-10), nor Christian armies, Christian law courts, +nor Christian States. This is what was always taught and believed by +true Christians of the first and following centuries. A Christian's +ideal is not marriage, but love for God and for his neighbor. +Consequently in the eyes of a Christian relations in marriage not only +do not constitute a lawful, right, and happy state, as our society and +our churches maintain, but, on the contrary, are always a fall. + +Such a thing as Christian marriage never was and never could be. Christ +did not marry, nor did he establish marriage; neither did his disciples +marry. But if Christian marriage cannot exist, there is such a thing as +a Christian view of marriage. And this is how it may be formulated: A +Christian (and by this term I understand not those who call themselves +Christians merely because they were baptized and still receive the +sacrament once a year, but those whose lives are shaped and regulated +by the teachings of Christ), I say, cannot view the marriage relation +otherwise than as a deviation from the doctrine of Christ,--as a sin. +This is clearly laid down in Matt. v. 28, and the ceremony called +Christian marriage does not alter its character one jot. A Christian +will never, therefore, desire marriage, but will always avoid it. + +If the light of truth dawns upon a Christian when he is already married, +or if, being a Christian, from weakness he enters into marital relations +with the ceremonies of the church, or without them, he has no other +alternative than to abide with his wife (and the wife with her husband, +if it is she who is a Christian) and to aspire together with her to free +themselves of their sin. This is the Christian view of marriage; and +there cannot be any other for a man who honestly endeavors to shape his +life in accordance with the teachings of Christ. + +To very many persons the thoughts I have uttered here and in "The +Kreutzer Sonata" will seem strange, vague, even contradictory. They +certainly do contradict, not each other, but the whole tenor of our +lives, and involuntarily a doubt arises, "on which side is truth,--on +the side of the thoughts which seem true and well-founded, or on the +side of the lives of others and myself?" I, too, was weighed down +by that same doubt when writing "The Kreutzer Sonata." I had not the +faintest presentiment that the train of thought I had started would lead +me whither it did. I was terrified by my own conclusion, and I was at +first disposed to reject it, but it was impossible not to hearken to the +voice of my reason and my conscience. And so, strange though they may +appear to many, opposed as they undoubtedly are to the trend and tenor +of our lives, and incompatible though they may prove with what I have +heretofore thought and uttered, I have no choice but to accept them. +"But man is weak," people will object. "His task should be regulated by +his strength." + +This is tantamount to saying, "My hand is weak. I cannot draw a straight +line,--that is, a line which will be the shortest line between two given +points,--and so, in order to make it more easy for myself, I, intending +to draw a straight, will choose for my model a crooked line." + +The weaker my hand, the greater the need that my model should be +perfect. + +LEO TOLSTOI. + + + + +IVAN THE FOOL. + +Copyright, 1891, by CHAS. L. WEBSTER & CO. + + + + +CHAPTER I + +In a certain kingdom there lived a rich peasant, who had three +sons--Simeon (a soldier), Tarras-Briukhan (fat man), and Ivan (a +fool)--and one daughter, Milania, born dumb. Simeon went to war, to +serve the Czar; Tarras went to a city and became a merchant; and Ivan, +with his sister, remained at home to work on the farm. + +For his valiant service in the army, Simeon received an estate with high +rank, and married a noble's daughter. Besides his large pay, he was in +receipt of a handsome income from his estate; yet he was unable to make +ends meet. What the husband saved, the wife wasted in extravagance. One +day Simeon went to the estate to collect his income, when the steward +informed him that there was no income, saying: + +"We have neither horses, cows, fishing-nets, nor implements; it is +necessary first to buy everything, and then to look for income." + +Simeon thereupon went to his father and said: + +"You are rich, batiushka [little father], but you have given nothing +to me. Give me one-third of what you possess as my share, and I will +transfer it to my estate." + +The old man replied: "You did not help to bring prosperity to our +household. For what reason, then, should you now demand the third part +of everything? It would be unjust to Ivan and his sister." + +"Yes," said Simeon; "but he is a fool, and she was born dumb. What need +have they of anything?" + +"See what Ivan will say." + +Ivan's reply was: "Well, let him take his share." + +Simeon took the portion allotted to him, and went again to serve in the +army. + +Tarras also met with success. He became rich and married a merchant's +daughter, but even this failed to satisfy his desires, and he also went +to his father and said, "Give me my share." + +The old man, however, refused to comply with his request, saying: "You +had no hand in the accumulation of our property, and what our household +contains is the result of Ivan's hard work. It would be unjust," he +repeated, "to Ivan and his sister." + +Tarras replied: "But he does not need it. He is a fool, and cannot +marry, for no one will have him; and sister does not require anything, +for she was born dumb." Turning then to Ivan he continued: "Give me half +the grain you have, and I will not touch the implements or fishing-nets; +and from the cattle I will take only the dark mare, as she is not fit to +plow." + +Ivan laughed and said: "Well, I will go and arrange matters so that +Tarras may have his share," whereupon Tarras took the brown mare with +the grain to town, leaving Ivan with one old horse to work on as before +and support his father, mother, and sister. + + +CHAPTER II. + +It was disappointing to the Stary Tchert (Old Devil) that the brothers +did not quarrel over the division of the property, and that they +separated peacefully; and he cried out, calling his three small devils +(Tchertionki). + +"See here," said he, "there are living three brothers--Simeon the +soldier, Tarras-Briukhan, and Ivan the Fool. It is necessary that +they should quarrel. Now they live peacefully, and enjoy each other's +hospitality. The Fool spoiled all my plans. Now you three go and work +with them in such a manner that they will be ready to tear each other's +eyes out. Can you do this?" + +"We can," they replied. + +"How will you accomplish it?" + +"In this way: We will first ruin them to such an extent that they will +have nothing to eat, and we will then gather them together in one place +where we are sure that they will fight." + +"Very well; I see you understand your business. Go, and do not return to +me until you have created a feud between the three brothers--or I will +skin you alive." + +The three small devils went to a swamp to consult as to the best means +of accomplishing their mission. They disputed for a long time--each +one wanting the easiest part of the work--and not being able to agree, +concluded to draw lots; by which it was decided that the one who was +first finished had to come and help the others. This agreement being +entered into, they appointed a time when they were again to meet in the +swamp--to find out who was through and who needed assistance. + +The time having arrived, the young devils met in the swamp as agreed, +when each related his experience. The first, who went to Simeon, said: +"I have succeeded in my undertaking, and to-morrow Simeon returns to his +father." + +His comrades, eager for particulars, inquired how he had done it. + +"Well," he began, "the first thing I did was to blow some courage into +his veins, and, on the strength of it, Simeon went to the Czar and +offered to conquer the whole world for him. The Emperor made him +commander-in-chief of the forces, and sent him with an army to fight the +Viceroy of India. Having started on their mission of conquest, they were +unaware that I, following in their wake, had wet all their powder. +I also went to the Indian ruler and showed him how I could create +numberless soldiers from straw. + +"Simeon's army, seeing that they were surrounded by such a vast number of +Indian warriors of my creation, became frightened, and Simeon commanded +to fire from cannons and rifles, which of course they were unable to +do. The soldiers, discouraged, retreated in great disorder. Thus Simeon +brought upon himself the terrible disgrace of defeat. His estate was +confiscated, and to-morrow he is to be executed. All that remains for +me to do, therefore," concluded the young devil, "is to release him +to-morrow morning. Now, then, who wants my assistance?" + +The second small devil (from Tarras) then related his story. + +"I do not need any help," he began. "My business is also all right. My +work with Tarras will be finished in one week. In the first place I made +him grow thin. He afterward became so covetous that he wanted to possess +everything he saw, and he spent all the money he had in the purchase +of immense quantities of goods. When his capital was gone he still +continued to buy with borrowed money, and has become involved in such +difficulties that he cannot free himself. At the end of one week the +date for the payment of his notes will have expired, and, his goods +being seized upon, he will become a bankrupt; and he also will return to +his father." + +At the conclusion of this narrative they inquired of the third devil how +things had fared between him and Ivan. + +"Well," said he, "my report is not so encouraging. The first thing I did +was to spit into his jug of quass [a sour drink made from rye], +which made him sick at his stomach. He afterward went to plow his +summer-fallow, but I made the soil so hard that the plow could scarcely +penetrate it. I thought the Fool would not succeed, but he started to +work nevertheless. Moaning with pain, he still continued to labor. I +broke one plow, but he replaced it with another, fixing it securely, and +resumed work. Going beneath the surface of the ground I took hold of the +plowshares, but did not succeed in stopping Ivan. He pressed so hard, +and the colter was so sharp, that my hands were cut; and despite my +utmost efforts, he went over all but a small portion of the field." + +He concluded with: "Come, brothers, and help me, for if we do not +conquer him our whole enterprise will be a failure. If the Fool is +permitted successfully to conduct his farming, they will have no need, +for he will support his brothers." + + +CHAPTER III. + +Ivan having succeeded in plowing all but a small portion of his land, he +returned the next day to finish it. The pain in his stomach continued, +but he felt that he must go on with his work. He tried to start his +plow, but it would not move; it seemed to have struck a hard root. It +was the small devil in the ground who had wound his feet around the +plowshares and held them. + +"This is strange," thought Ivan. "There were never any roots here +before, and this is surely one." + +Ivan put his hand in the ground, and, feeling something soft, grasped +and pulled it out. It was like a root in appearance, but seemed +to possess life. Holding it up he saw that it was a little devil. +Disgusted, he exclaimed, "See the nasty thing," and he proceeded to +strike it a blow, intending to kill it, when the young devil cried out: + +"Do not kill me, and I will grant your every wish." + +"What can you do for me?" + +"Tell me what it is you most wish for," the little devil replied. + +Ivan, peasant-fashion, scratched the back of his head as he thought, and +finally he said: + +"I am dreadfully sick at my stomach. Can you cure me?" + +"I can," the little devil said. + +"Then do so." + +The little devil bent toward the earth and began searching for roots, +and when he found them he gave them to Ivan, saying: "If you will +swallow some of these you will be immediately cured of whatsoever +disease you are afflicted with." + +Ivan did as directed, and obtained instant relief. + +"I beg of you to let me go now," the little devil pleaded; "I will pass +into the earth, never to return." + +"Very well; you may go, and God bless you;" and as Ivan pronounced the +name of God, the small devil disappeared into the earth like a flash, +and only a slight opening in the ground remained. + +Ivan placed in his hat what roots he had left, and proceeded to plow. +Soon finishing his work, he turned his plow over and returned home. + +When he reached the house he found his brother Simeon and his wife +seated at the supper-table. His estate had been confiscated, and he +himself had barely escaped execution by making his way out of prison, +and having nothing to live upon had come back to his father for support. + +Turning to Ivan he said: "I came to ask you to care for us until I can +find something to do." + +"Very well," Ivan replied; "you may remain with us." + +Just as Ivan was about to sit down to the table Simeon's wife made a wry +face, indicating that she did not like the smell of Ivan's sheep-skin +coat; and turning to her husband she said, "I shall not sit at the table +with a moujik [peasant] who smells like that." + +Simeon the soldier turned to his brother and said: "My lady objects to +the smell of your clothes. You may eat in the porch." + +Ivan said: "Very well, it is all the same to me. I will soon have to go +and feed my horse any way." + +Ivan took some bread in one hand, and his kaftan (coat) in the other, +and left the room. + + +CHAPTER IV. + +The small devil finished with Simeon that night, and according to +agreement went to the assistance of his comrade who had charge of +Ivan, that he might help to conquer the Fool. He went to the field and +searched everywhere, but could find nothing but the hole through which +the small devil had disappeared. + +"Well, this is strange," he said; "something must have happened to my +companion, and I will have to take his place and continue the work he +began. The Fool is through with his plowing, so I must look about me +for some other means of compassing his destruction. I must overflow his +meadow and prevent him from cutting the grass." + +The little devil accordingly overflowed the meadow with muddy water, +and, when Ivan went at dawn next morning with his scythe set and +sharpened and tried to mow the grass, he found that it resisted all his +efforts and would not yield to the implement as usual. + +Many times Ivan tried to cut the grass, but always without success. At +last, becoming weary of the effort, he decided to return home and have +his scythe again sharpened, and also to procure a quantity of bread, +saying: "I will come back here and will not leave until I have mown all +the meadow, even if it should take a whole week." + +Hearing this, the little devil became thoughtful, saying: "That Ivan is +a koolak [hard case], and I must think of some other way of conquering +him." + +Ivan soon returned with his sharpened scythe and started to mow. + +The small devil hid himself in the grass, and as the point of the scythe +came down he buried it in the earth and made it almost impossible for +Ivan to move the implement. He, however, succeeded in mowing all but +one small spot in the swamp, where again the small devil hid himself, +saying: "Even if he should cut my hands I will prevent him from +accomplishing his work." + +When Ivan came to the swamp he found that the grass was not very thick. +Still, the scythe would not work, which made him so angry that he worked +with all his might, and one blow more powerful than the others cut off a +portion of the small devil's tail, who had hidden himself there. + +Despite the little devil's efforts he succeeded in finishing his work, +when he returned home and ordered his sister to gather up the grass +while he went to another field to cut rye. But the devil preceded him +there, and fixed the rye in such a manner that it was almost impossible +for Ivan to cut it; however, after continuous hard labor he succeeded, +and when he was through with the rye he said to himself: "Now I will +start to mow oats." + +On hearing this, the little devil thought to himself: "I could not +prevent him from mowing the rye, but I will surely stop him from mowing +the oats when the morning comes." + +Early next day, when the devil came to the field, he found that the oats +had been already mowed. Ivan did it during the night, so as to avoid +the loss that might have resulted from the grain being too ripe and dry. +Seeing that Ivan again had escaped him, the little devil became greatly +enraged, saying: + +"He cut me all over and made me tired, that fool. I did not meet such +misfortune even on the battle-field. He does not even sleep;" and the +devil began to swear. "I cannot follow him," he continued. "I will go +now to the heaps and make everything rotten." + +Accordingly he went to a heap of the new-mown grain and began his +fiendish work. After wetting it he built a fire and warmed himself, and +soon was fast asleep. + +Ivan harnessed his horse, and, with his sister, went to bring the rye +home from the field. + +After lifting a couple of sheaves from the first heap his pitchfork came +into contact with the little devil's back, which caused the latter to +howl with pain and to jump around in every direction. Ivan exclaimed: + +"See here! What nastiness! You again here?" + +"I am another one!" said the little devil. "That was my brother. I am +the one who was sent to your brother Simeon." + +"Well," said Ivan, "it matters not who you are. I will fix you all the +same." + +As Ivan was about to strike the first blow the devil pleaded: "Let me go +and I will do you no more harm. I will do whatever you wish." + +"What can you do for me?" asked Ivan. + +"I can make soldiers from almost anything." + +"And what will they be good for?" + +"Oh, they will do everything for you!" + +"Can they sing?" + +"They can." + +"Well, make them." + +"Take a bunch of straw and scatter it on the ground, and see if each +straw will not turn into a soldier." + +Ivan shook the straws on the ground, and, as he expected, each straw +turned into a soldier, and they began marching with a band at their +head. + +"Ishty [look you], that was well done! How it will delight the village +maidens!" he exclaimed. + +The small devil now said: "Let me go; you do not need me any longer." + +But Ivan said: "No, I will not let you go just yet. You have converted +the straw into soldiers, and now I want you to turn them again into +straw, as I cannot afford to lose it, but I want it with the grain on." + +The devil replied: "Say: 'So many soldiers, so much straw.'" + +Ivan did as directed, and got back his rye with the straw. + +The small devil again begged for his release. + +Ivan, taking him from the pitchfork, said: "With God's blessing you may +depart"; and, as before at the mention of God's name, the little devil +was hurled into the earth like a flash, and nothing was left but the +hole to show where he had gone. + +Soon afterward Ivan returned home, to find his brother Tarras and his +wife there. Tarras-Briukhan could not pay his debts, and was forced to +flee from his creditors and seek refuge under his father's roof. Seeing +Ivan, he said: "Well, Ivan, may we remain here until I start in some new +business?" + +Ivan replied as he had before to Simeon: "Yes, you are perfectly welcome +to remain here as long as it suits you." + +With that announcement he removed his coat and seated himself at the +supper-table with the others. But Tarras-Briukhan's wife objected to the +smell of his clothes, saying: "I cannot eat with a fool; neither can I +stand the smell." + +Then Tarras-Briukhan said: "Ivan, from your clothes there comes a bad +smell; go and eat by yourself in the porch." + +"Very well," said Ivan; and he took some bread and went out as ordered, +saying, "It is time for me to feed my mare." + + +CHAPTER V. + +The small devil who had charge of Tarras finished with him that night, +and according to agreement proceeded to the assistance of the other two +to help them conquer Ivan. Arriving at the plowed field he looked +around for his comrades, but found only the hole through which one had +disappeared; and on going to the meadow he discovered the severed tail +of the other, and in the rye-field he found yet another hole. + +"Well," he thought, "it is quite clear that my comrades have met with +some great misfortune, and that I will have to take their places and +arrange the feud between the brothers." + +The small devil then went in search of Ivan. But he, having finished +with the field, was nowhere to be found. He had gone to the forest to +cut logs to build homes for his brothers, as they found it inconvenient +for so many to live under the same roof. + +The small devil at last discovered his whereabouts, and going to the +forest climbed into the branches of the trees and began to interfere +with Ivan's work. Ivan cut down a tree, which failed, however, to fall +to the ground, becoming entangled in the branches of other trees; yet he +succeeded in getting it down after a hard struggle. In chopping down the +next tree he met with the same difficulties, and also with the third. +Ivan had supposed he could cut down fifty trees in a day, but he +succeeded in chopping but ten before darkness put an end to his labors +for a time. He was now exhausted, and, perspiring profusely, he sat down +alone in the woods to rest. He soon after resumed his work, cutting down +one more tree; but the effort gave him a pain in his back, and he was +obliged to rest again. Seeing this, the small devil was full of joy. + +"Well," he thought, "now he is exhausted and will stop work, and I will +rest also." He then seated himself on some branches and rejoiced. + +Ivan again arose, however, and, taking his axe, gave the tree a terrific +blow from the opposite side, which felled it instantly to the ground, +carrying the little devil with it; and Ivan, proceeding to cut the +branches, found the devil alive. Very much astonished, Ivan exclaimed: + +"Look you! Such nastiness! Are you again here?" + +"I am another one," replied the devil. "I was with your brother Tarras." + +"Well," said Ivan, "that makes no difference; I will fix you." And he +was about to strike him a blow with the axe when the devil pleaded: + +"Do not kill me, and whatever you wish you shall have." + +Ivan asked, "What can you do?" + +"I can make for you all the money you wish." + +Ivan then told the devil he might proceed, whereupon the latter began to +explain to him how he might become rich. + +"Take," said he to Ivan, "the leaves of this oak tree and rub them in +your hands, and the gold will fall to the ground." + +Ivan did as he was directed, and immediately the gold began to drop +about his feet; and he remarked: + +"This will be a fine trick to amuse the village boys with." + +"Can I now take my departure?" asked the devil, to which Ivan replied, +"With God's blessing you may go." + +At the mention of the name of God, the devil disappeared into the earth. + + +CHAPTER VI. + +The brothers, having finished their houses, moved into them and lived +apart from their father and brother. Ivan, when he had completed his +plowing, made a great feast, to which he invited his brothers, telling +them that he had plenty of beer for them to drink. The brothers, +however, declined Ivan's hospitality, saying, "We have seen the beer +moujiks drink, and want none of it." + +Ivan then gathered around him all the peasants in the village and +with them drank beer until he became intoxicated, when he joined the +Khorovody (a street gathering of the village boys and girls, who sing +songs), and told them they must sing his praises, saying that in return +he would show them such sights as they had never before seen in their +lives. The little girls laughed and began to sing songs praising Ivan, +and when they had finished they said: "Very well; now give us what you +said you would." + +Ivan replied, "I will soon show you," and, taking an empty bag in his +hand, he started for the woods. The little girls laughed as they said, +"What a fool he is!" and resuming their play they forgot all about him. + +Some time after Ivan suddenly appeared among them carrying in his hand +the bag, which was now filled. + +"Shall I divide this with you?" he said. + +"Yes; divide!" they sang in chorus. + +So Ivan put his hand into the bag and drew it out full of gold coins, +which he scattered among them. + +"Batiushka," they cried as they ran to gather up the precious pieces. + +The moujiks then appeared on the scene and began to fight among +themselves for the possession of the yellow objects. In the melee one +old woman was nearly crushed to death. + +Ivan laughed and was greatly amused at the sight of so many persons +quarrelling over a few pieces of gold. + +"Oh! you duratchki" (little fools), he said, "why did you almost crush +the life out of the old grandmother? Be more gentle. I have plenty more, +and I will give them to you;" whereupon he began throwing about more of +the coins. + +The people gathered around him, and Ivan continued throwing until he +emptied his bag. They clamored for more, but Ivan replied: "The gold +is all gone. Another time I will give you more. Now we will resume our +singing and dancing." + +The little children sang, but Ivan said to them, "Your songs are no +good." + +The children said, "Then show us how to sing better." + +To this Ivan replied, "I will show you people who can sing better than +you." With that remark Ivan went to the barn and, securing a bundle +of straw, did as the little devil had directed him; and presently a +regiment of soldiers appeared in the village street, and he ordered them +to sing and dance. + +The people were astonished and could not understand how Ivan had +produced the strangers. + +The soldiers sang for some time, to the great delight of the villagers; +and when Ivan commanded them to stop they instantly ceased. + +Ivan then ordered them off to the barn, telling the astonished and +mystified moujiks that they must not follow him. Reaching the barn, +he turned the soldiers again into straw and went home to sleep off the +effects of his debauch. + + +CHAPTER VII. + +The next morning Ivan's exploits were the talk of the village, and news +of the wonderful things he had done reached the ears of his brother +Simeon, who immediately went to Ivan to learn all about it. + +"Explain to me," he said; "from whence did you bring the soldiers, and +where did you take them?" + +"And what do you wish to know for?" asked Ivan. + +"Why, with soldiers we can do almost anything we wish--whole kingdoms +can be conquered," replied Simeon. + +This information greatly surprised Ivan, who said: "Well, why did you +not tell me about this before? I can make as many as you want." + +Ivan then took his brother to the barn, but he said: "While I am willing +to create the soldiers, you must take them away from here; for if it +should become necessary to feed them, all the food in the village would +last them only one day." + +Simeon promised to do as Ivan wished, whereupon Ivan proceeded to +convert the straw into soldiers. Out of one bundle of straw he made an +entire regiment; in fact, so many soldiers appeared as if by magic that +there was not a vacant spot in the field. + +Turning to Simeon Ivan said, "Well, is there a sufficient number?" + +Beaming with joy, Simeon replied: "Enough! enough! Thank you, Ivan!" + +"Glad you are satisfied," said Ivan, "and if you wish more I will make +them for you. I have plenty of straw now." + +Simeon divided his soldiers into battalions and regiments, and after +having drilled them he went forth to fight and to conquer. + +Simeon had just gotten safely out of the village with his soldiers when +Tarras, the other brother, appeared before Ivan--he also having heard +of the previous day's performance and wanting to learn the secret of +his power. He sought Ivan, saying: "Tell me the secret of your supply of +gold, for if I had plenty of money I could with its assistance gather in +all the wealth in the world." + +Ivan was greatly surprised on hearing this statement, and said: "You +might have told me this before, for I can obtain for you as much money +as you wish." + +Tarras was delighted, and he said, "You might get me about three +bushels." + +"Well," said Ivan, "we will go to the woods, or, better still, we +will harness the horse, as we could not possibly carry so much money +ourselves." + +The brothers went to the woods and Ivan proceeded to gather the oak +leaves, which he rubbed between his hands, the dust falling to the +ground and turning into gold pieces as quickly as it fell. + +When quite a pile had accumulated Ivan turned to Tarras and asked if he +had rubbed enough leaves into money, whereupon Tarras replied: "Thank +you, Ivan; that will be sufficient for this time." + +Ivan then said: "If you wish more, come to me and I will rub as much as +you want, for there are plenty of leaves." + +Tarras, with his tarantas (wagon) filled with gold, rode away to the +city to engage in trade and increase his wealth; and thus both brothers +went their way, Simeon to fight and Tarras to trade. + +Simeon's soldiers conquered a kingdom for him and Tarras-Briukhan made +plenty of money. + +Some time afterward the two brothers met and confessed to each other +the source from whence sprang their prosperity, but they were not yet +satisfied. + +Simeon said: "I have conquered a kingdom and enjoy a very pleasant life, +but I have not sufficient money to procure food for my soldiers;" while +Tarras confessed that he was the possessor of enormous wealth, but the +care of it caused him much uneasiness. + +"Let us go again to our brother," said Simeon; "I will order him to make +more soldiers and will give them to you, and you may then tell him that +he must make more money so that we can buy food for them." + +They went again to Ivan, and Simeon said: "I have not sufficient +soldiers; I want you to make me at least two divisions more." But Ivan +shook his head as he said: "I will not create soldiers for nothing; you +must pay me for doing it." + +"Well, but you promised," said Simeon. + +"I know I did," replied Ivan; "but I have changed my mind since that +time." + +"But, fool, why will you not do as you promised?" + +"For the reason that your soldiers kill men, and I will not make any +more for such a cruel purpose." With this reply Ivan remained stubborn +and would not create any more soldiers. + +Tarras-Briukhan next approached Ivan and ordered him to make more money; +but, as in the case of Tarras, Ivan only shook his head, as he said: +"I will not make you any money unless you pay me for doing it. I cannot +work without pay." + +Tarras then reminded him of his promise. + +"I know I promised," replied Ivan; "but still I must refuse to do as you +wish." + +"But why, fool, will you not fulfill your promise?" asked Tarras. + +"For the reason that your gold was the means of depriving Mikhailovna of +her cow." + +"But how did that happen?" inquired Tarras. + +"It happened in this way," said Ivan. "Mikhailovna always kept a cow, +and her children had plenty of milk to drink; but some time ago one of +her boys came to me to beg for some milk, and I asked, 'Where is your +cow?' when he replied, 'A clerk of Tarras-Briukhan came to our home +and offered three gold pieces for her. Our mother could not resist the +temptation, and now we have no milk to drink. I gave you the gold pieces +for your pleasure, and you put them to such poor use that I will not +give you any more.'" + +The brothers, on hearing this, took their departure to discuss as to the +best plan to pursue in regard to a settlement of their troubles. + +Simeon said: "Let us arrange it in this way: I will give you the half of +my kingdom, and soldiers to keep guard over your wealth; and you give me +money to feed the soldiers in my half of the kingdom." + +To this arrangement Tarras agreed, and both the brothers became rulers +and very happy. + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +Ivan remained on the farm and worked to support his father, mother, and +dumb sister. Once it happened that the old dog, which had grown up on +the farm, was taken sick, when Ivan thought he was dying, and, taking +pity on the animal, placed some bread in his hat and carried it to him. +It happened that when he turned out the bread the root which the little +devil had given him fell out also. The old dog swallowed it with the +bread and was almost instantly cured, when he jumped up and began to wag +his tail as an expression of joy. Ivan's father and mother, seeing +the dog cured so quickly, asked by what means he had performed such a +miracle. + +Ivan replied: "I had some roots which would cure any disease, and the +dog swallowed one of them." + +It happened about that time that the Czar's daughter became ill, and her +father had it announced in every city, town, and village that whosoever +would cure her would be richly rewarded; and if the lucky person should +prove to be a single man he would give her in marriage to him. + +This announcement, of course, appeared in Ivan's village. + +Ivan's father and mother called him and said: "If you have any of those +wonderful roots, go and cure the Czar's daughter. You will be much +happier for having performed such a kind act--indeed, you will be made +happy for all your after life." + +"Very well," said Ivan; and he immediately made ready for the journey. +As he reached the porch on his way out he saw a poor woman standing +directly in his path and holding a broken arm. The woman accosted him, +saying: + +"I was told that you could cure me, and will you not please do so, as I +am powerless to do anything for myself?" + +Ivan replied: "Very well, my poor woman; I will relieve you if I can." + +He produced a root which he handed to the poor woman and told her to +swallow it. + +She did as Ivan told her and was instantly cured, and went away +rejoicing that she had recovered the use of her arm. + +Ivan's father and mother came out to wish him good luck on his journey, +and to them he told the story of the poor woman, saying that he +had given her his last root. On hearing this his parents were much +distressed, as they now believed him to be without the means of curing +the Czar's daughter, and began to scold him. + +"You had pity for a beggar and gave no thought to the Czar's daughter," +they said. + +"I have pity for the Czar's daughter also," replied Ivan, after which +he harnessed his horse to his wagon and took his seat ready for his +departure; whereupon his parents said: "Where are you going, you +fool--to cure the Czar's daughter, and without anything to do it with?" + +"Very well," replied Ivan, as he drove away. + +In due time he arrived at the palace, and the moment he appeared on +the balcony the Czar's daughter was cured. The Czar was overjoyed and +ordered Ivan to be brought into his presence. He dressed him in the +richest robes and addressed him as his son-in-law. Ivan was married to +the Czarevna, and, the Czar dying soon after, Ivan became ruler. Thus +the three brothers became rulers in different kingdoms. + + +CHAPTER IX. + +The brothers lived and reigned. Simeon, the eldest brother, with his +straw soldiers took captive the genuine soldiers and trained all alike. +He was feared by every one. + +Tarras-Briukhan, the other brother, did not squander the gold he +obtained from Ivan, but instead greatly increased his wealth, and at +the same time lived well. He kept his money in large trunks, and, while +having more than he knew what to do with, still continued to collect +money from his subjects. The people had to work for the money to pay the +taxes which Tarras levied on them, and life was made burdensome to them. + +Ivan the Fool did not enjoy his wealth and power to the same extent +as did his brothers. As soon as his father-in-law, the late Czar, was +buried, he discarded the Imperial robes which had fallen to him and told +his wife to put them away, as he had no further use for them. Having +cast aside the insignia of his rank, he once more donned his peasant +garb and started to work as of old. + +"I felt lonesome," he said, "and began to grow enormously stout, and yet +I had no appetite, and neither could I sleep." + +Ivan sent for his father, mother, and dumb sister, and brought them to +live with him, and they worked with him at whatever he chose to do. + +The people soon learned that Ivan was a fool. His wife one day said to +him, "The people say you are a fool, Ivan." + +"Well, let them think so if they wish," he replied. + +His wife pondered this reply for some time, and at last decided that +if Ivan was a fool she also was one, and that it would be useless to go +contrary to her husband, thinking affectionately of the old proverb that +"where the needle goes there goes the thread also." She therefore cast +aside her magnificent robes, and, putting them into the trunk +with Ivan's, dressed herself in cheap clothing and joined her dumb +sister-in-law, with the intention of learning to work. She succeeded so +well that she soon became a great help to Ivan. + +Seeing that Ivan was a fool, all the wise men left the kingdom and only +the fools remained. They had no money, their wealth consisting only +of the products of their labor. But they lived peacefully together, +supported themselves in comfort, and had plenty to spare for the needy +and afflicted. + + +CHAPTER X. + +The old devil grew tired of waiting for the good news which he expected +the little devils to bring him. He waited in vain to hear of the ruin of +the brothers, so he went in search of the emissaries which he had sent +to perform that work for him. After looking around for some time, and +seeing nothing but the three holes in the ground, he decided that they +had not succeeded in their work and that he would have to do it himself. + +The old devil next went in search of the brothers, but he could learn +nothing of their whereabouts. After some time he found them in their +different kingdoms, contented and happy. This greatly incensed the +old devil, and he said, "I will now have to accomplish their mission +myself." + +He first visited Simeon the soldier, and appeared before him as a +voyevoda (general), saying: "You, Simeon, are a great warrior, and I +also have had considerable experience in warfare, and am desirous of +serving you." + +Simeon questioned the disguised devil, and seeing that he was an +intelligent man took him into his service. + +The new General taught Simeon how to strengthen his army until it became +very powerful. New implements of warfare were introduced. + +Cannons capable of throwing one hundred balls a minute were also +constructed, and these, it was expected, would be of deadly effect in +battle. + +Simeon, on the advice of his new General, ordered all young men above a +certain age to report for drill. On the same advice Simeon established +gun-shops, where immense numbers of cannons and rifles were made. + +The next move of the new General was to have Simeon declare war against +the neighboring kingdom. This he did, and with his immense army marched +into the adjoining territory, which he pillaged and burned, destroying +more than half the enemy's soldiers. This so frightened the ruler of +that country that he willingly gave up half of his kingdom to save the +other half. + +Simeon, overjoyed at his success, declared his intention of marching +into Indian territory and subduing the Viceroy of that country. + +But Simeon's intentions reached the ears of the Indian ruler, who +prepared to do battle with him. In addition to having secured all +the latest implements of warfare, he added still others of his own +invention. He ordered all boys over fourteen and all single women to +be drafted into the army, until its proportions became much larger than +Simeon's. His cannons and rifles were of the same pattern as Simeon's, +and he invented a flying-machine from which bombs could be thrown into +the enemy's camp. + +Simeon went forth to conquer the Viceroy with full confidence in his own +powers to succeed. This time luck forsook him, and instead of being the +conqueror he was himself conquered. + +The Indian ruler had so arranged his army that Simeon could not even +get within shooting distance, while the bombs from the flying-machine +carried destruction and terror in their path, completely routing his +army, so that Simeon was left alone. + +The Viceroy took possession of his kingdom and Simeon had to fly for his +life. + +Having finished with Simeon, the old devil next approached Tarras. He +appeared before him disguised as one of the merchants of his kingdom, +and established factories and began to make money. The "merchant" paid +the highest price for everything he purchased, and the people ran after +him to sell their goods. Through this "merchant" they were enabled to +make plenty of money, paying up all their arrears of taxes as well as +the others when they came due. + +Tarras was overjoyed at this condition of affairs and said: "Thanks to +this merchant, now I will have more money than before, and life will be +much pleasanter for me." + +He wished to erect new buildings, and advertised for workmen, offering +the highest prices for all kinds of labor. Tarras thought the people +would be as anxious to work as formerly, but instead he was much +surprised to learn that they were working for the "merchant." Thinking +to induce them to leave the "merchant," he increased his offers, but the +former, equal to the emergency, also raised the wages of his workmen. +Tarras, having plenty of money, increased the offers still more; but +the "merchant" raised them still higher and got the better of him. Thus, +defeated at every point, Tarras was compelled to abandon the idea of +building. + +Tarras next announced that he intended laying out gardens and erecting +fountains, and the work was to be commenced in the fall, but no one +came to offer his services, and again he was obliged to forego his +intentions. Winter set in, and Tarras wanted some sable fur with which +to line his great-coat, and he sent his man to procure it for him; but +the servant returned without it, saying: "There are no sables to be had. +The 'merchant' has bought them all, paying a very high price for them." + +Tarras needed horses and sent a messenger to purchase them, but he +returned with the same story as on former occasions--that none were to +be found, the "merchant" having bought them all to carry water for an +artificial pond he was constructing. Tarras was at last compelled to +suspend business, as he could not find any one willing to work for him. +They had all gone over to the "merchant's" side. The only dealings the +people had with Tarras were when they went to pay their taxes. His money +accumulated so fast that he could not find a place to put it, and his +life became miserable. He abandoned all idea of entering upon the new +venture, and only thought of how to exist peaceably. This he found +it difficult to do, for, turn which way he would, fresh obstacles +confronted him. Even his cooks, coachmen, and all his other servants +forsook him and joined the "merchant." With all his wealth he had +nothing to eat, and when he went to market he found the "merchant" had +been there before him and had bought up all the provisions. Still, the +people continued to bring him money. + +Tarras at last became so indignant that he ordered the "merchant" out +of his kingdom. He left, but settled just outside the boundary line, and +continued his business with the same result as before, and Tarras was +frequently forced to go without food for days. It was rumored that the +"merchant" wanted to buy even Tarras himself. On hearing this the latter +became very much alarmed and could not decide as to the best course to +pursue. + +About this time his brother Simeon arrived in the kingdom, and said: +"Help me, for I have been defeated and ruined by the Indian Viceroy." + +Tarras replied: "How can I help you, when I have had no food myself for +two days?" + + +CHAPTER XI. + +The old devil, having finished with the second brother, went to Ivan the +Fool. This time he disguised himself as a General, the same as in the +case of Simeon, and, appearing before Ivan, said: "Get an army together. +It is disgraceful for the ruler of a kingdom to be without an army. You +call your people to assemble, and I will form them into a fine large +army." + +Ivan took the supposed General's advice, and said: "Well, you may form +my people into an army, but you must also teach them to sing the songs I +like." + +The old devil then went through Ivan's kingdom to secure recruits for +the army, saying: "Come, shave your heads [the heads of recruits are +always shaved in Russia] and I will give each of you a red hat and +plenty of vodki" (whiskey). + +At this the fools only laughed, and said: "We can have all the vodki we +want, for we distill it ourselves; and of hats, our little girls make +all we want, of any color we please, and with handsome fringes." + +Thus was the devil foiled in securing recruits for his army; so +he returned to Ivan and said: "Your fools will not volunteer to be +soldiers. It will therefore be necessary to force them." + +"Very well," replied Ivan, "you may use force if you want to." + +The old devil then announced that all the fools must become soldiers, +and those who refused, Ivan would punish with death. + +The fools went to the General; and said: "You tell us that Ivan will +punish with death all those who refuse to become soldiers, but you have +omitted to state what will be done with us soldiers. We have been told +that we are only to be killed." + +"Yes, that is true," was the reply. + +The fools on hearing this became stubborn and refused to go. + +"Better kill us now if we cannot avoid death, but we will not become +soldiers," they declared. + +"Oh! you fools," said the old devil, "soldiers may and may not be +killed; but if you disobey Ivan's orders you will find certain death at +his hands." + +The fools remained absorbed in thought for some time and finally went to +Ivan to question him in regard to the matter. + +On arriving at his house they said: "A General came to us with an order +from you that we were all to become soldiers, and if we refused you were +to punish us with death. Is it true?" + +Ivan began to laugh heartily on hearing this, and said: "Well, how I +alone can punish you with death is something I cannot understand. If I +was not a fool myself I would be able to explain it to you, but as it is +I cannot." + +"Well, then, we will not go," they said. + +"Very well," replied Ivan, "you need not become soldiers unless you wish +to." + +The old devil, seeing his schemes about to prove failures, went to the +ruler of Tarakania and became his friend, saying: "Let us go and +conquer Ivan's kingdom. He has no money, but he has plenty of cattle, +provisions, and various other things that would be useful to us." + +The Tarakanian ruler gathered his large army together, and equipping it +with cannons and rifles, crossed the boundary line into Ivan's kingdom. +The people went to Ivan and said: "The ruler of Tarakania is here with a +large army to fight us." + +"Let them come," replied Ivan. + +The Tarakanian ruler, after crossing the line into Ivan's kingdom, +looked in vain for soldiers to fight against; and waiting some time and +none appearing, he sent his own warriors to attack the villages. + +They soon reached the first village, which they began to plunder. + +The fools of both sexes looked calmly on, offering not the least +resistance when their cattle and provisions were being taken from them. +On the contrary, they invited the soldiers to come and live with them, +saying: "If you, dear friends, find it is difficult to earn a living in +your own land, come and live with us, where everything is plentiful." + +The soldiers decided to remain, finding the people happy and prosperous, +with enough surplus food to supply many of their neighbors. They were +surprised at the cordial greetings which they everywhere received, and, +returning to the ruler of Tarakania, they said: "We cannot fight with +these people--take us to another place. We would much prefer the dangers +of actual warfare to this unsoldierly method of subduing the village." + +The Tarakanian ruler, becoming enraged, ordered the soldiers to destroy +the whole kingdom, plunder the villages, burn the houses and provisions, +and slaughter the cattle. + +"Should you disobey my orders," said he, "I will have every one of you +executed." + +The soldiers, becoming frightened, started to do as they were ordered, +but the fools wept bitterly, offering no resistance, men, women, and +children all joining in the general lamentation. + +"Why do you treat us so cruelly?" they cried to the invading soldiers. +"Why do you wish to destroy everything we have? If you have more need +of these things than we have, why not take them with you and leave us in +peace?" + +The soldiers, becoming saddened with remorse, refused further to +pursue their path of destruction--the entire army scattering in many +directions. + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +The old devil, failing to ruin Ivan's kingdom with soldiers, transformed +himself into a nobleman, dressed exquisitely, and became one of +Ivan's subjects, with the intention of compassing the downfall of his +kingdom--as he had done with that of Tarras. + +The "nobleman" said to Ivan: "I desire to teach you wisdom and to render +you other service. I will build you a palace and factories." + +"Very well," said Ivan; "you may live with us." + +The next day the "nobleman" appeared on the Square with a sack of gold +in his hand and a plan for building a house, saying to the people: "You +are living like pigs, and I am going to teach you how to live decently. +You are to build a house for me according to this plan. I will +superintend the work myself, and will pay you for your services in +gold," showing them at the same time the contents of his sack. + +The fools were amused. They had never before seen any money. Their +business was conducted entirely by exchange of farm products or by +hiring themselves out to work by the day in return for whatever they +most needed. They therefore glanced at the gold pieces with amazement, +and said, "What nice toys they would be to play with!" In return for the +gold they gave their services and brought the "nobleman" the produce of +their farms. + +The old devil was overjoyed as he thought, "Now my enterprise is on a +fair road and I will be able to ruin the Fool--as I did his brothers." + +The fools obtained sufficient gold to distribute among the entire +community, the women and young girls of the village wearing much of it +as ornaments, while to the children they gave some pieces to play with +on the streets. + +When they had secured all they wanted they stopped working and the +"noblemen" did not get his house more than half finished. He had neither +provisions nor cattle for the year, and ordered the people to bring him +both. He directed them also to go on with the building of the palace and +factories. He promised to pay them liberally in gold for everything they +did. No one responded to his call--only once in awhile a little boy or +girl would call to exchange eggs for his gold. + +Thus was the "nobleman" deserted, and, having nothing to eat, he went +to the village to procure some provisions for his dinner. He went to +one house and offered gold in return for a chicken, but was refused, the +owner saying: "We have enough of that already and do not want any more." + +He next went to a fish-woman to buy some herring, when she, too, refused +to accept his gold in return for fish, saying: "I do not wish it, my +dear man; I have no children to whom I can give it to play with. I have +three pieces which I keep as curiosities only." + +He then went to a peasant to buy bread, but he also refused to accept +the gold. "I have no use for it," said he, "unless you wish to give it +for Christ's sake; then it will be a different matter, and I will tell +my baba [old woman] to cut a piece of bread for you." + +The old devil was so angry that he ran away from the peasant, spitting +and cursing as he went. + +Not only did the offer to accept in the name of Christ anger him, but +the very mention of the name was like the thrust of a knife in his +throat. + +The old devil did not succeed in getting any bread, and in his efforts +to secure other articles of food he met with the same failure. The +people had all the gold they wanted and what pieces they had they +regarded as curiosities. They said to the old devil: "If you bring us +something else in exchange for food, or come to ask for Christ's sake, +we will give you all you want." + +But the old devil had nothing but gold, and was too lazy to work; +and being unable to accept anything for Christ's sake, he was greatly +enraged. + +"What else do you want?" he said. "I will give you gold with which you +can buy everything you want, and you need labor no longer." + +But the fools would not accept his gold, nor listen to him. Thus the old +devil was obliged to go to sleep hungry. + +Tidings of this condition of affairs soon reached the ears of Ivan. The +people went to him and said: "What shell we do? This nobleman appeared +among us; he is well dressed; he wishes to eat and drink of the best, +but is unwilling to work, and does not beg for food for Christ's sake. +He only offers every one gold pieces. At first we gave him everything he +wanted, taking the gold pieces in exchange just as curiosities; but +now we have enough of them and refuse to accept any more from him. What +shall we do with him? he may die of hunger!" + +Ivan heard all they had to say, and told them to employ him as a +shepherd, taking turns in doing so. + +The old devil saw no other way out of the difficulty and was obliged to +submit. + +It soon came the old devil's turn to go to Ivan's house. He went there +to dinner and found Ivan's dumb sister preparing the meal. She was often +cheated by the lazy people, who while they did not work, yet ate up all +the gruel. But she learned to know the lazy people from the condition of +their hands. Those with great welts on their hands she invited first +to the table, and those having smooth white hands had to take what was +left. + +The old devil took a seat at the table, but the dumb girl, taking his +hands, looked at them, and seeing them white and clean, and with long +nails, swore at him and put him from the table. + +Ivan's wife said to the old devil: "You must excuse my sister-in-law; +she will not allow any one to sit at the table whose hands have not been +hardened by toil, so you will have to wait until the dinner is over and +then you can have what is left. With it you must be satisfied." + +The old devil was very much offended that he was made to eat with +"pigs," as he expressed it, and complained to Ivan, saying: "The foolish +law you have in your kingdom, that all persons must work, is surely the +invention of fools. People who work for a living are not always forced +to labor with their hands. Do you think wise men labor so?" + +Ivan replied: "Well, what do fools know about it? We all work with our +hands." + +"And for that reason you are fools," replied the devil. "I can teach you +how to use your brains, and you will find such labor more beneficial." + +Ivan was surprised at hearing this, and said: + +"Well, it is perhaps not without good reason that we are called fools." + +"It is not so easy to work with the brain," the old devil said. +"You will not give me anything to eat because my hands have not the +appearance of being toil-hardened, but you must understand that it is +much harder to do brain-work, and sometimes the head feels like bursting +with the effort it is forced to make." + +"Then why do you not select some light work that you can perform with +your hands?" Ivan asked. + +The devil said: "I torment myself with brain-work because I have pity +for you fools, for, if I did not torture myself, people like you would +remain fools for all eternity. I have exercised my brain a great deal +during my life, and now I am able to teach you." + +Ivan was greatly surprised and said: "Very well; teach us, so that when +our hands are tired we can use our heads to replace them." + +The devil promised to instruct the people, and Ivan announced the fact +throughout his kingdom. + +The devil was willing to teach all those who came to him how to use the +head instead of the hands, so as to produce more with the former than +with the latter. + +In Ivan's kingdom there was a high tower, which was reached by a long, +narrow ladder leading up to the balcony, and Ivan told the old devil +that from the top of the tower every one could see him. + +So the old devil went up to the balcony and addressed the people. + +The fools came in great crowds to hear what the old devil had to say, +thinking that he really meant to tell them how to work with the head. +But the old devil only told them in words what to do, and did not give +them any practical instruction. He said that men working only with their +hands could not make a living. The fools did not understand what he +said to them and looked at him in amazement, and then departed for their +daily work. + +The old devil addressed them for two days from the balcony, and at the +end of that time, feeling hungry, he asked the people to bring him some +bread. But they only laughed at him and told him if he could work better +with his head than with his hands he could also find bread for himself. +He addressed the people for yet another day, and they went to hear him +from curiosity, but soon left him to return to their work. + +Ivan asked, "Well, did the nobleman work with his head?" + +"Not yet," they said; "so far he has only talked." + +One day, while the old devil was standing on the balcony, he became +weak, and, falling down, hurt his head against a pole. + +Seeing this, one of the fools ran to Ivan's wife and said, "The +gentleman has at last commenced to work with his head." + +She ran to the field to tell Ivan, who was much surprised, and said, +"Let us go and see him." + +He turned his horses' heads in the direction of the tower, where the old +devil remained weak from hunger and was still suspended from the pole, +with his body swaying back and forth and his head striking the lower +part of the pole each time it came in contact with it. While Ivan +was looking, the old devil started down the steps head-first--as they +supposed, to count them. + +"Well," said Ivan, "he told the truth after all--that sometimes from +this kind of work the head bursts. This is far worse than welts on the +hands." + +The old devil fell to the ground head-foremost. Ivan approached him, +but at that instant the ground opened and the devil disappeared, leaving +only a hole to show where he had gone. + +Ivan scratched his head and said: "See here; such nastiness! This is yet +another devil. He looks like the father of the little ones." + +Ivan still lives, and people flock to his kingdom. His brothers come to +him and he feeds them. + +To every one who comes to him and says, "Give us food," he replies: +"Very well; you are welcome. We have plenty of everything." + +There is only one unchangeable custom observed in Ivan's kingdom: The +man with toil-hardened hands is always given a seat at the table, while +the possessor of soft white hands must be contented with what is left. + + + + +A LOST OPPORTUNITY. + + "Then came Peter to Him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother + sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times?" . . . . + "So likewise shall My heavenly Father do also unto you, if ye + from your hearts forgive not every one his brother their + trespasses."--ST. MATTHEW xviii., 21-35. + +In a certain village there lived a peasant by the name of Ivan +Scherbakoff. He was prosperous, strong, and vigorous, and was considered +the hardest worker in the whole village. He had three sons, who +supported themselves by their own labor. The eldest was married, the +second about to be married, and the youngest took care of the horses and +occasionally attended to the plowing. + +The peasant's wife, Ivanovna, was intelligent and industrious, while her +daughter-in-law was a simple, quiet soul, but a hard worker. + +There was only one idle person in the household, and that was Ivan's +father, a very old man who for seven years had suffered from asthma, and +who spent the greater part of his time lying on the brick oven. + +Ivan had plenty of everything--three horses, with one colt, a cow +with calf, and fifteen sheep. The women made the men's clothes, and in +addition to performing all the necessary household labor, also worked in +the field; while the men's industry was confined altogether to the farm. + +What was left of the previous year's supply of provisions was ample for +their needs, and they sold a quantity of oats sufficient to pay their +taxes and other expenses. + +Thus life went smoothly for Ivan. + +The peasant's next-door neighbor was a son of Gordey Ivanoff, called +"Gavryl the Lame." It once happened that Ivan had a quarrel with him; +but while old man Gordey was yet alive, and Ivan's father was the head +of the household, the two peasants lived as good neighbors should. +If the women of one house required the use of a sieve or pail, they +borrowed it from the inmates of the other house. The same condition of +affairs existed between the men. They lived more like one family, the +one dividing his possessions with the other, and perfect harmony reigned +between the two families. + +If a stray calf or cow invaded the garden of one of the farmers, the +other willingly drove it away, saying: "Be careful, neighbor, that your +stock does not again stray into my garden; we should put a fence up." +In the same way they had no secrets from each other. The doors of their +houses and barns had neither bolts nor locks, so sure were they of +each other's honesty. Not a shadow of suspicion darkened their daily +intercourse. + +Thus lived the old people. + +In time the younger members of the two households started farming. It +soon became apparent that they would not get along as peacefully as the +old people had done, for they began quarrelling without the slightest +provocation. + +A hen belonging to Ivan's daughter-in-law commenced laying eggs, which +the young woman collected each morning, intending to keep them for the +Easter holidays. She made daily visits to the barn, where, under an old +wagon, she was sure to find the precious egg. + +One day the children frightened the hen and she flew over their +neighbor's fence and laid her egg in their garden. + +Ivan's daughter-in-law heard the hen cackling, but said: "I am very busy +just at present, for this is the eve of a holy day, and I must clean and +arrange this room. I will go for the egg later on." + +When evening came, and she had finished her task, she went to the barn, +and as usual looked under the old wagon, expecting to find an egg. But, +alas! no egg was visible in the accustomed place. + +Greatly disappointed, she returned to the house and inquired of her +mother-in-law and the other members of the family if they had taken it. +"No," they said, "we know nothing of it." + +Taraska, the youngest brother-in-law, coming in soon after, she also +inquired of him if he knew anything about the missing egg. "Yes," +he replied; "your pretty, crested hen laid her egg in our neighbors' +garden, and after she had finished cackling she flew back again over the +fence." + +The young woman, greatly surprised on hearing this, turned and looked +long and seriously at the hen, which was sitting with closed eyes beside +the rooster in the chimney-corner. She asked the hen where it laid the +egg. At the sound of her voice it simply opened and closed its eyes, but +could make no answer. + +She then went to the neighbors' house, where she was met by an old +woman, who said: "What do you want, young woman?" + +Ivan's daughter-in-law replied: "You see, babushka [grandmother], my hen +flew into your yard this morning. Did she not lay an egg there?" + +"We did not see any," the old woman replied; "we have our own hens--God +be praised!--and they have been laying for this long time. We hunt +only for the eggs our own hens lay, and have no use for the eggs other +people's hens lay. Another thing I want to tell you, young woman: we do +not go into other people's yards to look for eggs." + +Now this speech greatly angered the young woman, and she replied in the +same spirit in which she had been spoken to, only using much stronger +language and speaking at greater length. + +The neighbor replied in the same angry manner, and finally the women +began to abuse each other and call vile names. It happened that old +Ivan's wife, on her way to the well for water, heard the dispute, and +joined the others, taking her daughter-in-law's part. + +Gavryl's housekeeper, hearing the noise, could not resist the temptation +to join the rest and to make her voice heard. As soon as she appeared on +the scene, she, too, began to abuse her neighbor, reminding her of many +disagreeable things which had happened (and many which had not happened) +between them. She became so infuriated during her denunciations that she +lost all control of herself, and ran around like some mad creature. + +Then all the women began to shout at the same time, each trying to +say two words to another's one, and using the vilest language in the +quarreller's vocabulary. + +"You are such and such," shouted one of the women. "You are a thief, a +schlukha [a mean, dirty, low creature]; your father-in-law is even now +starving, and you have no shame. You beggar, you borrowed my sieve and +broke it. You made a large hole in it, and did not buy me another." + +"You have our scale-beam," cried another woman, "and must give it back +to me;" whereupon she seized the scale-beam and tried to remove it from +the shoulders of Ivan's wife. + +In the melee which followed they upset the pails of water. They tore the +covering from each other's head, and a general fight ensued. + +Gavryl's wife had by this time joined in the fracas, and he, crossing +the field and seeing the trouble, came to her rescue. + +Ivan and his son, seeing that their womenfolk were being badly used, +jumped into the midst of the fray, and a fearful fight followed. + +Ivan was the most powerful peasant in all the country round, and it +did not take him long to disperse the crowd, for they flew in all +directions. During the progress of the fight Ivan tore out a large +quantity of Gavryl's beard. + +By this time a large crowd of peasants had collected, and it was with +the greatest difficulty that they persuaded the two families to stop +quarrelling. + +This was the beginning. + +Gavryl took the portion of his beard which Ivan had torn out, and, +wrapping it in a paper, went to the volostnoye (moujiks' court) and +entered a complaint against Ivan. + +Holding up the hair, he said, "I did not grow this for that bear Ivan to +tear out!" + +Gavryl's wife went round among the neighbors, telling them that they +must not repeat what she told them, but that she and her husband were +going to get the best of Ivan, and that he was to be sent to Siberia. + +And so the quarrelling went on. + +The poor old grandfather, sick with asthma and lying on the brick oven +all the time, tried from the first to dissuade them from quarrelling, +and begged of them to live in peace; but they would not listen to his +good advice. He said to them: "You children are making a great fuss and +much trouble about nothing. I beg of you to stop and think of what a +little thing has caused all this trouble. It has arisen from only one +egg. If our neighbors' children picked it up, it is all right. God bless +them! One egg is of but little value, and without it God will supply +sufficient for all our needs." + +Ivan's daughter-in-law here interposed and said, "But they called us +vile names." + +The old grandfather again spoke, saying: "Well, even if they did call +you bad names, it would have been better to return good for evil, and +by your example show them how to speak better. Such conduct on your part +would have been best for all concerned." He continued: "Well, you had a +fight, you wicked people. Such things sometimes happen, but it would +be better if you went afterward and asked forgiveness and buried your +grievances out of sight. Scatter them to the four winds of heaven, for +if you do not do so it will be the worse for you in the end." + +The younger members of the family, still obstinate, refused to profit +by the old man's advice, and declared he was not right, and that he only +liked to grumble in his old-fashioned way. + +Ivan refused to go to his neighbor, as the grandfather wished, saying: +"I did not tear out Gavryl's beard. He did it himself, and his son tore +my shirt and trousers into shreds." + +Ivan entered suit against Gavryl. He first went to the village justice, +and not getting satisfaction from him he carried his case to the village +court. + +While the neighbors were wrangling over the affair, each suing the +other, it happened that a perch-bolt from Gavryl's wagon was lost; and +the women of Gavryl's household accused Ivan's son of stealing it. + +They said: "We saw him in the night-time pass by our window, on his way +to where the wagon was standing." "And my kumushka [sponsor]," said one +of them, "told me that Ivan's son had offered it for sale at the kabak +[tavern]." + +This accusation caused them again to go into court for a settlement of +their grievances. + +While the heads of the families were trying to have their troubles +settled in court, their home quarrels were constant, and frequently +resulted in hand-to-hand encounters. Even the little children followed +the example of their elders and quarrelled incessantly. + +The women, when they met on the riverbank to do the family washing, +instead of attending to their work passed the time in abusing each +other, and not infrequently they came to blows. + +At first the male members of the families were content with accusing +each other of various crimes, such as stealing and like meannesses. But +the trouble in this mild form did not last long. + +They soon resorted to other measures. They began to appropriate one +another's things without asking permission, while various articles +disappeared from both houses and could not be found. This was done out +of revenge. + +This example being set by the men, the women and children also followed, +and life soon became a burden to all who took part in the strife. + +Ivan Scherbakoff and "Gavryl the Lame" at last laid their trouble before +the mir (village meeting), in addition to having been in court and +calling on the justice of the peace. Both of the latter had grown tired +of them and their incessant wrangling. One time Gavryl would succeed in +having Ivan fined, and if he was not able to pay it he would be locked +up in the cold dreary prison for days. Then it would be Ivan's turn to +get Gavryl punished in like manner, and the greater the injury the one +could do the other the more delight he took in it. + +The success of either in having the other punished only served to +increase their rage against each other, until they were like mad dogs in +their warfare. + +If anything went wrong with one of them he immediately accused his +adversary of conspiring to ruin him, and sought revenge without stopping +to inquire into the rights of the case. + +When the peasants went into court, and had each other fined and +imprisoned, it did not soften their hearts in the least. They would only +taunt one another on such occasions, saying: "Never mind; I will repay +you for all this." + +This state of affairs lasted for six years. + +Ivan's father, the sick old man, constantly repeated his good advice. He +would try to arouse their conscience by saying: "What are you doing, my +children? Can you not throw off all these troubles, pay more attention +to your business, and suppress your anger against your neighbors? There +is no use in your continuing to live in this way, for the more enraged +you become against each other the worse it is for you." + +Again was the wise advice of the old man rejected. + +At the beginning of the seventh year of the existence of the feud it +happened that a daughter-in-law of Ivan's was present at a marriage. At +the wedding feast she openly accused Gavryl of stealing a horse. Gavryl +was intoxicated at the time and was in no mood to stand the insult, so +in retaliation he struck the woman a terrific blow, which confined her +to her bed for more than a week. The woman being in delicate health, the +worst results were feared. + +Ivan, glad of a fresh opportunity to harass his neighbor, lodged a +formal complaint before the district-attorney, hoping to rid himself +forever of Gavryl by having him sent to Siberia. + +On examining the complaint the district-attorney would not consider it, +as by that time the injured woman was walking about and as well as ever. + +Thus again Ivan was disappointed in obtaining his revenge, and, not +being satisfied with the district-attorney's decision, had the case +transferred to the court, where he used all possible means to push his +suit. To secure the favor of the starshina (village mayor) he made him +a present of half a gallon of sweet vodki; and to the mayor's pisar +(secretary) also he gave presents. By this means he succeeded in +securing a verdict against Gavryl. The sentence was that Gavryl was to +receive twenty lashes on his bare back, and the punishment was to be +administered in the yard which surrounded the court-house. + +When Ivan heard the sentence read he looked triumphantly at Gavryl to +see what effect it would produce on him. Gavryl turned very white on +hearing that he was to be treated with such indignity, and turning his +back on the assembly left the room without uttering a word. + +Ivan followed him out, and as he reached his horse he heard Gavryl +saying: "Very well; my spine will burn from the lashes, but something +will burn with greater fierceness in Ivan's household before long." + +Ivan, on hearing these words, instantly returned to the court, and going +up to the judges said: "Oh! just judges, he threatens to burn my house +and all it contains." + +A messenger was immediately sent in search of Gavryl, who was soon found +and again brought into the presence of the judges. + +"Is it true," they asked, "that you said you would burn Ivan's house and +all it contained?" + +Gavryl replied: "I did not say anything of the kind. You may give me as +many lashes as you please--that is, if you have the power to do so. +It seems to me that I alone have to suffer for the truth, while he," +pointing to Ivan, "is allowed to do and say what he pleases." Gavryl +wished to say something more, but his lips trembled, and the words +refused to come; so in silence he turned his face toward the wall. + +The sight of so much suffering moved even the judges to pity, and, +becoming alarmed at Gavryl's continued silence, they said, "He may do +both his neighbor and himself some frightful injury." + +"See here, my brothers," said one feeble old judge, looking at Ivan and +Gavryl as he spoke, "I think you had better try to arrange this matter +peaceably. You, brother Gavryl, did wrong to strike a woman who was in +delicate health. It was a lucky thing for you that God had mercy on +you and that the woman did not die, for if she had I know not what dire +misfortune might have overtaken you! It will not do either of you any +good to go on living as you are at present. Go, Gavryl, and make friends +with Ivan; I am sure he will forgive you, and we will set aside the +verdict just given." + +The secretary on hearing this said: "It is impossible to do this on the +present case. According to Article 117 this matter has gone too far to +be settled peaceably now, as the verdict has been rendered and must be +enforced." + +But the judges would not listen to the secretary, saying to him: "You +talk altogether too much. You must remember that the first thing is to +fulfill God's command to 'Love thy neighbor as thyself,' and all will be +well with you." + +Thus with kind words the judges tried to reconcile the two peasants. +Their words fell on stony ground, however, for Gavryl would not listen +to them. + +"I am fifty years old," said Gavryl, "and have a son married, and never +from my birth has the lash been applied to my back; but now this bear +Ivan has secured a verdict against me which condemns me to receive +twenty lashes, and I am forced to bow to this decision and suffer the +shame of a public beating. Well, he will have cause to remember this." + +At this Gavryl's voice trembled and he stopped speaking, and turning his +back on the judges took his departure. + +It was about ten versts' distance from the court to the homes of the +neighbors, and this Ivan travelled late. The women had already gone +out for the cattle. He unharnessed his horse and put everything in its +place, and then went into the izba (room), but found no one there. + +The men had not yet returned from their work in the field and the women +had gone to look for the cattle, so that all about the place was quiet. +Going into the room, Ivan seated himself on a wooden bench and soon +became lost in thought. He remembered how, when Gavryl first heard the +sentence which had been passed upon him, he grew very pale, and turned +his face to the wall, all the while remaining silent. + +Ivan's heart ached when he thought of the disgrace which he had been the +means of bringing upon Gavryl, and he wondered how he would feel if the +same sentence had been passed upon him. His thoughts were interrupted by +the coughing of his father, who was lying on the oven. + +The old man, on seeing Ivan, came down off the oven, and slowly +approaching his son seated himself on the bench beside him, looking at +him as though ashamed. He continued to cough as he leaned on the table +and said, "Well, did they sentence him?" + +"Yes, they sentenced him to receive twenty lashes," replied Ivan. + +On hearing this the old man sorrowfully shook his head, and said: "This +is very bad, Ivan, and what is the meaning of it all? It is indeed +very bad, but not so bad for Gavryl as for yourself. Well, suppose his +sentence IS carried out, and he gets the twenty lashes, what will it +benefit you?" + +"He will not again strike a woman," Ivan replied. + +"What is it he will not do? He does not do anything worse than what you +are constantly doing!" + +This conversation enraged Ivan, and he shouted: "Well, what did he do? +He beat a woman nearly to death, and even now he threatens to burn my +house! Must I bow to him for all this?" + +The old man sighed deeply as he said: "You, Ivan, are strong and free to +go wherever you please, while I have been lying for years on the oven. +You think that you know everything and that I do not know anything. No! +you are still a child, and as such you cannot see that a kind of madness +controls your actions and blinds your sight. The sins of others are ever +before you, while you resolutely keep your own behind your back. I know +that what Gavryl did was wrong, but if he alone should do wrong there +would be no evil in the world. Do you think that all the evil in the +world is the work of one man alone? No! it requires two persons to work +much evil in the world. You see only the bad in Gavryl's character, but +you are blind to the evil that is in your own nature. If he alone were +bad and you good, then there would be no wrong." + +The old man, after a pause, continued: "Who tore Gavryl's beard? Who +destroyed his heaps of rye? Who dragged him into court?--and yet you +try to put all the blame on his shoulders. You are behaving very badly +yourself, and for that reason you are wrong. I did not act in such a +manner, and certainly I never taught you to do so. I lived in peace with +Gavryl's father all the time we were neighbors. We were always the best +of friends. If he was without flour his wife would come to me and say, +'Diadia Frol [Grandfather], we need flour.' I would then say: 'My good +woman, go to the warehouse and take as much as you want.' If he had no +one to care for his horses I would say, 'Go, Ivanushka [diminutive of +Ivan], and help him to care for them.' If I required anything I would go +to him and say, 'Grandfather Gordey, I need this or that,' and he would +always reply, 'Take just whatever you want.' By this means we passed an +easy and peaceful life. But what is your life compared with it? As the +soldiers fought at Plevna, so are you and Gavryl fighting all the time, +only that your battles are far more disgraceful than that fought at +Plevna." + +The old man went on: "And you call this living! and what a sin it +all is! You are a peasant, and the head of the house; therefore, the +responsibility of the trouble rests with you. What an example you set +your wife and children by constantly quarrelling with your neighbor! +Only a short time since your little boy, Taraska, was cursing his aunt +Arina, and his mother only laughed at it, saying, 'What a bright child +he is!' Is that right? You are to blame for all this. You should think +of the salvation of your soul. Is that the way to do it? You say one +unkind word to me and I will reply with two. You will give me one slap +in the face, and I will retaliate with two slaps. No, my son; Christ did +not teach us foolish people to act in such a way. If any one should say +an unkind word to you it is better not to answer at all; but if you +do reply do it kindly, and his conscience will accuse him, and he will +regret his unkindness to you. This is the way Christ taught us to live. +He tells us that if a person smite us on the one cheek we should offer +unto him the other. That is Christ's command to us, and we should follow +it. You should therefore subdue your pride. Am I not right?" + +Ivan remained silent, but his father's words had sunk deep into his +heart. + +The old man coughed and continued: "Do you think Christ thought us +wicked? Did he not die that we might be saved? Now you think only of +this earthly life. Are you better or worse for thinking alone of it? Are +you better or worse for having begun that Plevna battle? Think of your +expense at court and the time lost in going back and forth, and what +have you gained? Your sons have reached manhood, and are able now to +work for you. You are therefore at liberty to enjoy life and be happy. +With the assistance of your children you could reach a high state of +prosperity. But now your property instead of increasing is gradually +growing less, and why? It is the result of your pride. When it becomes +necessary for you and your boys to go to the field to work, your enemy +instead summons you to appear at court or before some kind of judicial +person. If you do not plow at the proper time and sow at the proper time +mother earth will not yield up her products, and you and your children +will be left destitute. Why did your oats fail this year? When did +you sow them? Were you not quarrelling with your neighbor instead of +attending to your work? You have just now returned from the town, where +you have been the means of having your neighbor humiliated. You have +succeeded in getting him sentenced, but in the end the punishment will +fall on your own shoulders. Oh! my child, it would be better for you +to attend to your work on the farm and train your boys to become good +farmers and honest men. If any one offend you forgive him for Christ's +sake, and then prosperity will smile on your work and a light and happy +feeling will fill your heart." + +Ivan still remained silent. + +The old father in a pleading voice continued: "Take an old man's advice. +Go and harness your horse, drive back to the court, and withdraw all +these complaints against your neighbor. To-morrow go to him, offer to +make peace in Christ's name, and invite him to your house. It will be +a holy day (the birth of the Virgin Mary). Get out the samovar and +have some vodki, and over both forgive and forget each other's sins, +promising not to transgress in the future, and advise your women and +children to do the same." + +Ivan heaved a deep sigh but felt easier in his heart, as he thought: +"The old man speaks the truth;" yet he was in doubt as to how he would +put his father's advice into practice. + +The old man, surmising his uncertainty, said to Ivan: "Go, Ivanushka; do +not delay. Extinguish the fire in the beginning, before it grows large, +for then it may be impossible." + +Ivan's father wished to say more to him, but was prevented by the +arrival of the women, who came into the room chattering like so many +magpies. They had already heard of Gavryl's sentence, and of how he +threatened to set fire to Ivan's house. They found out all about it, and +in telling it to their neighbors added their own versions of the +story, with the usual exaggeration. Meeting in the pasture-ground, they +proceeded to quarrel with Gavryl's women. They related how the latter's +daughter-in-law had threatened to secure the influence of the manager of +a certain noble's estate in behalf of his friend Gavryl; also that the +school-teacher was writing a petition to the Czar himself against Ivan, +explaining in detail his theft of the perchbolt and partial destruction +of Gavryl's garden--declaring that half of Ivan's land was to be given +to them. + +Ivan listened calmly to their stories, but his anger was soon aroused +once more, when he abandoned his intention of making peace with Gavryl. + +As Ivan was always busy about the household, he did not stop to speak to +the wrangling women, but immediately left the room, directing his steps +toward the barn. Before getting through with his work the sun had set +and the boys had returned from their plowing. Ivan met them and asked +about their work, helping them to put things in order and leaving the +broken horse-collar aside to be repaired. He intended to perform some +other duties, but it became too dark and he was obliged to leave them +till the next day. He fed the cattle, however, and opened the gate that +Taraska might take his horses to pasture for the night, after which he +closed it again and went into the house for his supper. + +By this time he had forgotten all about Gavryl and what his father had +said to him. Yet, just as he touched the door-knob, he heard sounds of +quarrelling proceeding from his neighbor's house. + +"What do I want with that devil?" shouted Gavryl to some one. "He +deserves to be killed!" + +Ivan stopped and listened for a moment, when he shook his head +threateningly and entered the room. When he came in, the apartment was +already lighted. His daughter-in-law was working with her loom, while +the old woman was preparing the supper. The eldest son was twining +strings for his lapti (peasant's shoes made of strips of bark from the +linden-tree). The other son was sitting by the table reading a book. The +room presented a pleasant appearance, everything being in order and the +inmates apparently gay and happy--the only dark shadow being that cast +over the household by Ivan's trouble with his neighbor. + +Ivan came in very cross, and, angrily throwing aside a cat which lay +sleeping on the bench, cursed the women for having misplaced a pail. +He looked very sad and serious, and, seating himself in a corner of the +room, proceeded to repair the horse-collar. He could not forget Gavryl, +however--the threatening words he had used in the court-room and those +which Ivan had just heard. + +Presently Taraska came in, and after having his supper, put on his +sheepskin coat, and, taking some bread with him, returned to watch over +his horses for the night. His eldest brother wished to accompany him, +but Ivan himself arose and went with him as far as the porch. The night +was dark and cloudy and a strong wind was blowing, which produced a +peculiar whistling sound that was most unpleasant to the ear. Ivan +helped his son to mount his horse, which, followed by a colt, started +off on a gallop. + +Ivan stood for a few moments looking around him and listening to the +clatter of the horse's hoofs as Taraska rode down the village street. +He heard him meet other boys on horseback, who rode quite as well as +Taraska, and soon all were lost in the darkness. + +Ivan remained standing by the gate in a gloomy mood, as he was unable +to banish from his mind the harassing thoughts of Gavryl, which the +latter's menacing words had inspired: "Something will burn with greater +fierceness in Ivan's household before long." + +"He is so desperate," thought Ivan, "that he may set fire to my house +regardless of the danger to his own. At present everything is dry, and +as the wind is so high he may sneak from the back of his own building, +start a fire, and get away unseen by any of us. + +"He may burn and steal without being found out, and thus go unpunished. I +wish I could catch him." + +This thought so worried Ivan that he decided not to return to his house, +but went out and stood on the street-corner. + +"I guess," thought Ivan to himself, "I will take a walk around the +premises and examine everything carefully, for who knows what he may be +tempted to do?" + +Ivan moved very cautiously round to the back of his buildings, not +making the slightest noise, and scarcely daring to breathe. Just as he +reached a corner of the house he looked toward the fence, and it seemed +to him that he saw something moving, and that it was slowly creeping +toward the corner of the house opposite to where he was standing. He +stepped back quickly and hid himself in the shadow of the building. Ivan +stood and listened, but all was quiet. Not a sound could be heard but +the moaning of the wind through the branches of the trees, and the +rustling of the leaves as it caught them up and whirled them in all +directions. So dense was the darkness that it was at first impossible +for Ivan to see more than a few feet beyond where he stood. + +After a time, however, his sight becoming accustomed to the gloom, he +was enabled to see for a considerable distance. The plow and his other +farming implements stood just where he had placed them. He could see +also the opposite corner of the house. + +He looked in every direction, but no one was in sight, and he thought +to himself that his imagination must have played him some trick, leading +him to believe that some one was moving when there really was no one +there. + +Still, Ivan was not satisfied, and decided to make a further examination +of the premises. As on the previous occasion, he moved so very +cautiously that he could not hear even the sound of his own footsteps. +He had taken the precaution to remove his shoes, that he might step the +more noiselessly. When he reached the corner of the barn it again seemed +to him that he saw something moving, this time near the plow; but it +quickly disappeared. By this time Ivan's heart was beating very fast, +and he was standing in a listening attitude when a sudden flash of light +illumined the spot, and he could distinctly see the figure of a man +seated on his haunches with his back turned toward him, and in the act +of lighting a bunch of straw which he held in his hand! Ivan's heart +began to beat yet faster, and he became terribly excited, walking up and +down with rapid strides, but without making a noise. + +Ivan said: "Well, now, he cannot get away, for he will be caught in the +very act." + +Ivan had taken a few more steps when suddenly a bright light flamed +up, but not in the same spot in which he had seen the figure of the man +sitting. Gavryl had lighted the straw, and running to the barn held it +under the edge of the roof, which began to burn fiercely; and by the +light of the fire he could distinctly see his neighbor standing. + +As an eagle springs at a skylark, so sprang Ivan at Gavryl, saying: "I +will tear you into pieces! You shall not get away from me this time!" + +But "Gavryl the Lame," hearing footsteps, wrenched himself free from +Ivan's grasp and ran like a hare past the buildings. + +Ivan, now terribly excited, shouted, "You shall not escape me!" and +started in pursuit; but just as he reached him and was about to grasp +the collar of his coat, Gavryl succeeded in jumping to one side, and +Ivan's coat became entangled in something and he was thrown violently +to the ground. Jumping quickly to his feet he shouted, "Karaool! +derji!"(watch! catch!) + +While Ivan was regaining his feet Gavryl succeeded in reaching his +house, but Ivan followed so quickly that he caught up with him before he +could enter. Just as he was about to grasp him he was struck on the head +with some hard substance. He had been hit on the temple as with a stone. +The blow was struck by Gavryl, who had picked up an oaken stave, and +with it gave Ivan a terrible blow on the head. + +Ivan was stunned, and bright sparks danced before his eyes, while he +swayed from side to side like a drunken man, until finally all became +dark and he sank to the ground unconscious. + +When he recovered his senses, Gavryl was nowhere to be seen, but all +around him was as light as day. Strange sounds proceeded from the +direction of his house, and turning his face that way he saw that his +barns were on fire. The rear parts of both were already destroyed, +and the flames were leaping toward the front. Fire, smoke, and bits of +burning straw were being rapidly whirled by the high wind over to where +his house stood, and he expected every moment to see it burst into +flames. + +"What is this, brother?" Ivan cried out, as he beat his thighs with his +hands. "I should have stopped to snatch the bunch of burning straw, and, +throwing it on the ground, should have extinguished it with my feet!" + +Ivan tried to cry out and arouse his people, but his lips refused to +utter a word. He next tried to run, but he could not move his feet, and +his legs seemed to twist themselves around each other. After several +attempts he succeeded in taking one or two steps, when he again began to +stagger and gasp for breath. It was some moments before he made another +attempt to move, but after considerable exertion he finally reached +the barn, the rear of which was by this time entirely consumed; and +the corner of his house had already caught fire. Dense volumes of smoke +began to pour out of the room, which made it difficult to approach. + +A crowd of peasants had by this time gathered, but they found it +impossible to save their homes, so they carried everything which they +could to a place of safety. The cattle they drove into neighboring +pastures and left some one to care for them. + +The wind carried the sparks from Ivan's house to Gavryl's, and it, too, +took fire and was consumed. The wind continued to increase with great +fury, and the flames spread to both sides of the street, until in a very +short time more than half the village was burned. + +The members of Ivan's household had great difficulty in getting out of +the burning building, but the neighbors rescued the old man and +carried him to a place of safety, while the women escaped in only their +night-clothes. Everything was burned, including the cattle and all the +farm implements. The women lost their trunks, which were filled with +quantities of clothing, the accumulation of years. The storehouse and +all the provisions perished in the flames, not even the chickens being +saved. + +Gavryl, however, more fortunate than Ivan, saved his cattle and a few +other things. + +The village was burning all night. + +Ivan stood near his home, gazing sadly at the burning building, and +he kept constantly repeating to himself: "I should have taken away the +bunch of burning straw, and have stamped out the fire with my feet." + +But when he saw his home fall in a smouldering heap, in spite of the +terrible heat he sprang into the midst of it and carried out a charred +log. The women seeing him, and fearing that he would lose his life, +called to him to come back, but he would not pay any attention to them +and went a second time to get a log. Still weak from the terrible blow +which Gavryl had given him, he was overcome by the heat, and fell into +the midst of the burning mass. Fortunately, his eldest son saw him fall, +and rushing into the fire succeeded in getting hold of him and carrying +him out of it. Ivan's hair, beard, and clothing were burned entirely +off. His hands were also frightfully injured, but he seemed indifferent +to pain. + +"Grief drove him crazy," the people said. + +The fire was growing less, but Ivan still stood where he could see it, +and kept repeating to himself, "I should have taken," etc. + +The morning after the fire the starosta (village elder) sent his son to +Ivan to tell him that the old man, his father, was dying, and wanted to +see him to bid him good-bye. + +In his grief Ivan had forgotten all about his father, and could not +understand what was being said to him. In a dazed way he asked: "What +father? Whom does he want?" + +The elder's son again repeated his father's message to Ivan. "Your +aged parent is at our house dying, and he wants to see you and bid you +good-bye. Won't you go now, uncle Ivan?" the boy said. + +Finally Ivan understood, and followed the elder's son. + +When Ivan's father was carried from the oven, he was slightly injured +by a big bunch of burning straw falling on him just as he reached the +street. To insure his safety he was removed to the elder's house, which +stood a considerable distance from his late home, and where it was not +likely that the fire would reach it. + +When Ivan arrived at the elder's home he found only the latter's wife +and children, who were all seated on the brick oven. The old man was +lying on a bench holding a lighted candle in his hand (a Russian custom +when a person is dying). Hearing a noise, he turned his face toward the +door, and when he saw it was his son he tried to move. He motioned for +Ivan to come nearer, and when he did so he whispered in a trembling +voice: "Well, Ivanushka, did I not tell you before what would be the +result of this sad affair? Who set the village on fire?" + +"He, he, batiushka [little father]; he did it. I caught him. He placed +the bunch of burning straw to the barn in my presence. Instead of +running after him, I should have snatched the bunch of burning straw +and throwing it on the ground have stamped it out with my feet; and then +there would have been no fire." + +"Ivan," said the old man, "death is fast approaching me, and remember +that you also will have to die. Who did this dreadful thing? Whose is +the sin?" + +Ivan gazed at the noble face of his dying father and was silent. His +heart was too full for utterance. + +"In the presence of God," the old man continued, "whose is the sin?" + +It was only now that the truth began to dawn upon Ivan's mind, and that +he realized how foolish he had acted. He sobbed bitterly, and fell on +his knees before his father, and, crying like a child, said: + +"My dear father, forgive me, for Christ's sake, for I am guilty before +God and before you!" + +The old man transferred the lighted candle from his right hand to the +left, and, raising the former to his forehead, tried to make the sign of +the cross, but owing to weakness was unable to do so. + +"Glory to Thee, O Lord! Glory to Thee!" he exclaimed; and turning his +dim eyes toward his son, he said: "See here, Ivanushka! Ivanushka, my +dear son!" + +"What, my dear father?" Ivan asked. + +"What are you going to do," replied the old man, "now that you have no +home?" + +Ivan cried and said: "I do not know how we shall live now." + +The old man closed his eyes and made a movement with his lips, as if +gathering his feeble strength for a final effort. Slowly opening his +eyes, he whispered: + +"Should you live according to God's commands you will be happy and +prosperous again." + +The old man was now silent for awhile and then, smiling sadly, he +continued: + +"See here, Ivanushka, keep silent concerning this trouble, and do not +tell who set the village on fire. Forgive one sin of your neighbor's, +and God will forgive two of yours." + +Grasping the candle with both hands, Ivan's father heaved a deep sigh, +and, stretching himself out on his back, yielded up the ghost. + +***** + +Ivan for once accepted his father's advice. He did not betray Gavryl, +and no one ever learned the origin of the fire. + +Ivan's heart became more kindly disposed toward his old enemy, feeling +that much of the fault in connection with this sad affair rested with +himself. + +Gavryl was greatly surprised that Ivan did not denounce him before all +the villagers, and at first he stood in much fear of him, but he soon +afterward overcame this feeling. + +The two peasants ceased to quarrel, and their families followed their +example. While they were building new houses, both families lived +beneath the same roof, and when they moved into their respective homes, +Ivan and Gavryl lived on as good terms as their fathers had done before +them. + +Ivan remembered his dying father's command, and took deeply to heart +the evident warning of God that A FIRE SHOULD BE EXTINGUISHED IN THE +BEGINNING. If any one wronged him he did not seek revenge, but instead +made every effort to settle the matter peaceably. If any one spoke to +him unkindly, he did not answer in the same way, but replied softly, and +tried to persuade the person not to speak evil. He taught the women and +children of his household to do the same. + +Ivan Scherbakoff was now a reformed man. + +He lived well and peacefully, and again became prosperous. + +Let us, therefore, have peace, live in brotherly love and kindness, and +we will be happy. + + + + +"POLIKUSHKA;" + +OR, The Lot of a Wicked Court Servant. + + + +CHAPTER I. + +Polikey was a court man--one of the staff of servants belonging to the +court household of a boyarinia (lady of the nobility). + +He held a very insignificant position on the estate, and lived in a +rather poor, small house with his wife and children. + +The house was built by the deceased nobleman whose widow he still +continued to serve, and may be described as follows: The four walls +surrounding the one izba (room) were built of stone, and the interior +was ten yards square. A Russian stove stood in the centre, around which +was a free passage. Each corner was fenced off as a separate inclosure +to the extent of several feet, and the one nearest to the door (the +smallest of all) was known as "Polikey's corner." Elsewhere in the room +stood the bed (with quilt, sheet, and cotton pillows), the cradle (with +a baby lying therein), and the three-legged table, on which the meals +were prepared and the family washing was done. At the latter also +Polikey was at work on the preparation of some materials for use in his +profession--that of an amateur veterinary surgeon. A calf, some hens, +the family clothes and household utensils, together with seven persons, +filled the little home to the utmost of its capacity. It would indeed +have been almost impossible for them to move around had it not been for +the convenience of the stove, on which some of them slept at night, and +which served as a table in the day-time. + +It seemed hard to realize how so many persons managed to live in such +close quarters. + +Polikey's wife, Akulina, did the washing, spun and wove, bleached her +linen, cooked and baked, and found time also to quarrel and gossip with +her neighbors. + +The monthly allowance of food which they received from the noblewoman's +house was amply sufficient for the whole family, and there was always +enough meal left to make mash for the cow. Their fuel they got free, and +likewise the food for the cattle. In addition they were given a small +piece of land on which to raise vegetables. They had a cow, a calf, and +a number of chickens to care for. + +Polikey was employed in the stables to take care of two stallions, and, +when necessary, to bleed the horses and cattle and clean their hoofs. + +In his treatment of the animals he used syringes, plasters, and various +other remedies and appliances of his own invention. For these services +he received whatever provisions were required by his family, and a +certain sum of money--all of which would have been sufficient to enable +them to live comfortably and even happily, if their hearts had not been +filled with the shadow of a great sorrow. + +This shadow darkened the lives of the entire family. + +Polikey, while young, was employed in a horse-breeding establishment in +a neighboring village. The head stableman was a notorious horse-thief, +known far and wide as a great rogue, who, for his many misdeeds, was +finally exiled to Siberia. Under his instruction Polikey underwent a +course of training, and, being but a boy, was easily induced to perform +many evil deeds. He became so expert in the various kinds of wickedness +practiced by his teacher that, though he many times would gladly have +abandoned his evil ways, he could not, owing to the great hold these +early-formed habits had upon him. His father and mother died when he was +but a child, and he had no one to point out to him the paths of virtue. + +In addition to his other numerous shortcomings, Polikey was fond of +strong drink. He also had a habit of appropriating other people's +property, when the opportunity offered of his doing so without being +seen. Collar-straps, padlocks, perch-bolts, and things even of greater +value belonging to others found their way with remarkable rapidity and +in great quantities to Polikey's home. He did not, however, keep +such things for his own use, but sold them whenever he could find a +purchaser. His payment consisted chiefly of whiskey, though sometimes he +received cash. + +This sort of employment, as his neighbors said, was both light and +profitable; it required neither education nor labor. It had one +drawback, however, which was calculated to reconcile his victims to +their losses: Though he could for a time have all his needs supplied +without expending either labor or money, there was always the +possibility of his methods being discovered; and this result was sure to +be followed by a long term of imprisonment. This impending danger made +life a burden for Polikey and his family. + +Such a setback indeed very nearly happened to Polikey early in his +career. He married while still young, and God gave him much happiness. +His wife, who was a shepherd's daughter, was a strong, intelligent, +hard-working woman. She bore him many children, each of whom was said to +be better than the preceding one. + +Polikey still continued to steal, but once was caught with some small +articles belonging to others in his possession. Among them was a pair +of leather reins, the property of another peasant, who beat him severely +and reported him to his mistress. + +From that time on Polikey was an object of suspicion, and he was twice +again detected in similar escapades. By this time the people began to +abuse him, and the clerk of the court threatened to recruit him into +the army as a soldier (which is regarded by the peasants as a great +punishment and disgrace). His noble mistress severely reprimanded him; +his wife wept from grief for his downfall, and everything went from bad +to worse. + +Polikey, notwithstanding his weakness, was a good-natured sort of man, +but his love of strong drink had so overcome every moral instinct that +at times he was scarcely responsible for his actions. This habit he +vainly endeavored to overcome. It often happened that when he returned +home intoxicated, his wife, losing all patience, roundly cursed him and +cruelly beat him. At times he would cry like a child, and bemoan his +fate, saying: "Unfortunate man that I am, what shall I do? LET MY EYES +BURST INTO PIECES if I do not forever give up the vile habit! I will not +again touch vodki." + +In spite of all his promises of reform, but a short period (perhaps a +month) would elapse when Polikey would again mysteriously disappear from +his home and be lost for several days on a spree. + +"From what source does he get the money he spends so freely?" the +neighbors inquired of each other, as they sadly shook their heads. + +One of his most unfortunate exploits in the matter of stealing was in +connection with a clock which belonged to the estate of his mistress. +The clock stood in the private office of the noblewoman, and was so old +as to have outlived its usefulness, and was simply kept as an heirloom. +It so happened that Polikey went into the office one day when no one was +present but himself, and, seeing the old clock, it seemed to possess +a peculiar fascination for him, and he speedily transferred it to his +person. He carried it to a town not far from the village, where he very +readily found a purchaser. + +As if purposely to secure his punishment, it happened that the +storekeeper to whom he sold it proved to be a relative of one of the +court servants, and who, when he visited his friend on the next holiday, +related all about his purchase of the clock. + +An investigation was immediately instituted, and all the details of +Polikey's transaction were brought to light and reported to his noble +mistress. He was called into her presence, and, when confronted with the +story of the theft, broke down and confessed all. He fell on his knees +before the noblewoman and plead with her for mercy. The kind-hearted +lady lectured him about God, the salvation of his soul, and his future +life. She talked to him also about the misery and disgrace he brought +upon his family, and altogether so worked upon his feelings that he +cried like a child. In conclusion his kind mistress said: "I will +forgive you this time on the condition that you promise faithfully to +reform, and never again to take what does not belong to you." + +Polikey, still weeping, replied: "I will never steal again in all my +life, and if I break my promise may the earth open and swallow me up, +and let my body be burned with red-hot irons!" + +Polikey returned to his home, and throwing himself on the oven spent the +entire day weeping and repeating the promise made to his mistress. + +From that time on he was not again caught stealing, but his life became +extremely sad, for he was regarded with suspicion by every one and +pointed to as a thief. + +When the time came round for securing recruits for the army, all +the peasants singled out Polikey as the first to be taken. The +superintendent was especially anxious to get rid of him, and went to +his mistress to induce her to have him sent away. The kind-hearted and +merciful woman, remembering the peasant's repentance, refused to grant +the superintendent's request, and told him he must take some other man +in his stead. + + +CHAPTER II. + +One evening Polikey was sitting on his bed beside the table, preparing +some medicine for the cattle, when suddenly the door was thrown wide +open, and Aksiutka, a young girl from the court, rushed in. Almost out +of breath, she said: "My mistress has ordered you, Polikey Illitch [son +of Ilia], to come up to the court at once!" + +The girl was standing and still breathing heavily from her late exertion +as she continued: "Egor Mikhailovitch, the superintendent, has been +to see our lady about having you drafted into the army, and, Polikey +Illitch, your name was mentioned among others. Our lady has sent me to +tell you to come up to the court immediately." + +As soon as Aksiutka had delivered her message she left the room in the +same abrupt manner in which she had entered. + +Akulina, without saying a word, got up and brought her husband's boots +to him. They were poor, worn-out things which some soldier had given +him, and his wife did not glance at him as she handed them to him. + +"Are you going to change your shirt, Illitch?" she asked, at last. + +"No," replied Polikey. + +Akulina did not once look at him all the time he was putting on his +boots and preparing to go to the court. Perhaps, after all, it was +better that she did not do so. His face was very pale and his lips +trembled. He slowly combed his hair and was about to depart without +saying a word, when his wife stopped him to arrange the ribbon on his +shirt, and, after toying a little with his coat, she put his hat on for +him and he left the little home. + +Polikey's next-door neighbors were a joiner and his wife. A thin +partition only separated the two families, and each could hear what the +other said and did. Soon after Polikey's departure a woman was heard to +say: "Well, Polikey Illitch, so your mistress has sent for you!" + +The voice was that of the joiner's wife on the other side of the +partition. Akulina and the woman had quarrelled that morning about some +trifling thing done by one of Polikey's children, and it afforded her +the greatest pleasure to learn that her neighbor had been summoned into +the presence of his noble mistress. She looked upon such a circumstance +as a bad omen. She continued talking to herself and said: "Perhaps she +wants to send him to the town to make some purchases for her household. +I did not suppose she would select such a faithful man as you are to +perform such a service for her. If it should prove that she DOES want to +send you to the next town, just buy me a quarter-pound of tea. Will you, +Polikey Illitch?" + +Poor Akulina, on hearing the joiner's wife talking so unkindly of her +husband, could hardly suppress the tears, and, the tirade continuing, +she at last became angry, and wished she could in some way punish her. + +Forgetting her neighbor's unkindness, her thoughts soon turned in +another direction, and glancing at her sleeping children she said to +herself that they might soon be orphans and she herself a soldier's +widow. This thought greatly distressed her, and burying her face in her +hands she seated herself on the bed, where several of her progeny were +fast asleep. Presently a little voice interrupted her meditations by +crying out, "Mamushka [little mother], you are crushing me," and the +child pulled her nightdress from under her mother's arms. + +Akulina, with her head still resting on her hands, said: "Perhaps it +would be better if we all should die. I only seem to have brought you +into the world to suffer sorrow and misery." + +Unable longer to control her grief, she burst into violent weeping, +which served to increase the amusement of the joiner's wife, who had +not forgotten the morning's squabble, and she laughed loudly at her +neighbor's woe. + + +CHAPTER III. + +About half an hour had passed when the youngest child began to cry and +Akulina arose to feed it. She had by this time ceased to weep, and after +feeding the infant she again fell into her old position, with her face +buried in her hands. She was very pale, but this only increased her +beauty. After a time she raised her head, and staring at the burning +candle she began to question herself as to why she had married, and as +to the reason that the Czar required so many soldiers. + +Presently she heard steps outside, and knew that her husband was +returning. She hurriedly wiped away the last traces of her tears as she +arose to let him pass into the centre of the room. + +Polikey made his appearance with a look of triumph on his face, threw +his hat on the bed, and hastily removed his coat; but not a word did he +utter. + +Akulina, unable to restrain her impatience, asked, "Well, what did she +want with you?" + +"Pshaw!" he replied, "it is very well known that Polikushka is +considered the worst man in the village; but when it comes to business +of importance, who is selected then? Why, Polikushka, of course." + +"What kind of business?" Akulina timidly inquired. + +But Polikey was in no hurry to answer her question. He lighted his pipe +with a very imposing air, and spit several times on the floor before he +replied. + +Still retaining his pompous manner, he said, "She has ordered me to +go to a certain merchant in the town and collect a considerable sum of +money." + +"You to collect money?" questioned Akulina. + +Polikey only shook his head and smiled significantly, saying: + +"'You,' the mistress said to me, 'are a man resting under a grave +suspicion--a man who is considered unsafe to trust in any capacity; but +I have faith in you, and will intrust you with this important business +of mine in preference to any one else.'" + +Polikey related all this in a loud voice, so that his neighbor might +hear what he had to say. + +"'You promised me to reform,' my noble mistress said to me, 'and I will +be the first to show you how much faith I have in your promise. I want +you to ride into town, and, going to the principal merchant there, +collect a sum of money from him and bring it to me.' I said to my +mistress: 'Everything you order shall be done. I will only too gladly +obey your slightest wish.' + +"Then my mistress said: 'Do you understand, Polikey, that your future lot +depends upon the faithful performance of this duty I impose upon you?' +I replied: 'Yes, I understand everything, and feel that I will succeed in +performing acceptably any task which you may impose upon me. I have been +accused of every kind of evil deed that it is possible to charge a man +with, but I have never done anything seriously wrong against you, +your honor.' In this way I talked to our mistress until I succeeded in +convincing her that my repentance was sincere, and she became greatly +softened toward me, saying, 'If you are successful I will give you the +first place at the court.'" + +"And how much money are you to collect?" inquired Akulina. + +"Fifteen hundred rubles," carelessly answered Polikey. + +Akulina sadly shook her head as she asked, "When are you to start?" + +"She ordered me to leave here to-morrow," Polikey replied. "'Take any +horse you please,' she said. 'Come to the office, and I will see you +there and wish you God-speed on your journey.'" + +"Glory to Thee, O Lord!" said Akulina, as she arose and made the sign +of the cross. "God, I am sure, will bless you, Illitch," she added, in a +whisper, so that the people on the other side of the partition could not +hear what she said, all the while holding on to his sleeve. "Illitch," +she cried at last, excitedly, "for God's sake promise me that you will +not touch a drop of vodki. Take an oath before God, and kiss the cross, +so that I may be sure that you will not break your promise!" + +Polikey replied in most contemptuous tones: "Do you think I will dare to +touch vodki when I shall have such a large sum of money in my care?" + +"Akulina, have a clean shirt ready for the morning," were his parting +words for the night. + +So Polikey and his wife went to sleep in a happy frame of mind and full +of bright dreams for the future. + + +CHAPTER IV. + +Very early the next morning, almost before the stars had hidden +themselves from view, there was seen standing before Polikey's home a +low wagon, the same in which the superintendent himself used to ride; +and harnessed to it was a large-boned, dark-brown mare, called for some +unknown reason by the name of Baraban (drum). Aniutka, Polikey's +eldest daughter, in spite of the heavy rain and the cold wind which was +blowing, stood outside barefooted and held (not without some fear) the +reins in ore hand, while with the other she endeavored to keep her green +and yellow overcoat wound around her body, and also to hold Polikey's +sheepskin coat. + +In the house there were the greatest noise and confusion. The morning +was still so dark that the little daylight there was failed to penetrate +through the broken panes of glass, the window being stuffed in many +places with rags and paper to exclude the cold air. + +Akulina ceased from her cooking for a while and helped to get Polikey +ready for the journey. Most of the children were still in bed, very +likely as a protection against the cold, for Akulina had taken away the +big overcoat which usually covered them and had substituted a shawl of +her own. Polikey's shirt was all ready, nice and clean, but his shoes +badly needed repairing, and this fact caused his devoted wife much +anxiety. She took from her own feet the thick woollen stockings she was +wearing, and gave them to Polikey. She then began to repair his shoes, +patching up the holes so as to protect his feet from dampness. + +While this was going on he was sitting on the side of the bed with his +feet dangling over the edge, and trying to turn the sash which confined +his coat at the waist. He was anxious to look as clean as possible, and +he declared his sash looked like a dirty rope. + +One of his daughters, enveloped in a sheepskin coat, was sent to a +neighbor's house to borrow a hat. + +Within Polikey's home the greatest confusion reigned, for the court +servants were constantly arriving with innumerable small orders which +they wished Polikey to execute for them in town. One wanted needles, +another tea, another tobacco, and last came the joiner's wife, who by +this time had prepared her samovar, and, anxious to make up the quarrel +of the previous day, brought the traveller a cup of tea. + +Neighbor Nikita refused the loan of the hat, so the old one had to be +patched up for the occasion. This occupied some time, as there were many +holes in it. + +Finally Polikey was all ready, and jumping on the wagon started on his +journey, after first making the sign of the cross. + +At the last moment his little boy, Mishka, ran to the door, begging to +be given a short ride; and then his little daughter, Mashka, appeared on +the scene and pleaded that she, too, might have a ride, declaring that +she would be quite warm enough without furs. + +Polikey stopped the horse on hearing the children, and Akulina placed +them in the wagon, together with two others belonging to a neighbor--all +anxious to have a short ride. + +As Akulina helped the little ones into the wagon she took occasion to +remind Polikey of the solemn promise he had made her not to touch a drop +of vodki during the journey. + +Polikey drove the children as far as the blacksmith's place, where he +let them out of the wagon, telling them they must return home. He then +arranged his clothing, and, setting his hat firmly on his head, started +his horse on a trot. + +The two children, Mishka and Mashka, both barefooted, started running at +such a rapid pace that a strange dog from another village, seeing them +flying over the road, dropped his tail between his legs and ran home +squealing. + +The weather was very cold, a sharp cutting wind blowing continuously; +but this did not disturb Polikey, whose mind was engrossed with pleasant +thoughts. As he rode through the wintry blasts he kept repeating to +himself: "So I am the man they wanted to send to Siberia, and whom they +threatened to enroll as a soldier--the same man whom every one abused, +and said he was lazy, and who was pointed out as a thief and given the +meanest work on the estate to do! Now I am going to receive a large sum +of money, for which my mistress is sending me because she trusts me. I +am also riding in the same wagon that the superintendent himself uses +when he is riding as a representative of the court. I have the same +harness, leather horse-collar, reins, and all the other gear." + +Polikey, filled with pride at thought of the mission with which he had +been intrusted, drew himself up with an air of pride, and, fixing his +old hat more firmly on his head, buttoned his coat tightly about him and +urged his horse to greater speed. + +"Just to think," he continued; "I shall have in my possession three +thousand half-rubles [the peasant manner of speaking of money so as to +make it appear a larger sum than it really is], and will carry them in +my bosom. If I wished to I might run away to Odessa instead of taking +the money to my mistress. But no; I will not do that. I will surely +carry the money straight to the one who has been kind enough to trust +me." + +When Polikey reached the first kabak (tavern) he found that from long +habit the mare was naturally turning her head toward it; but he would +not allow her to stop, though money had been given him to purchase +both food and drink. Striking the animal a sharp blow with the whip, he +passed by the tavern. The performance was repeated when he reached the +next kabak, which looked very inviting; but he resolutely set his face +against entering, and passed on. + +About noon he arrived at his destination, and getting down from the +wagon approached the gate of the merchant's house where the servants of +the court always stopped. Opening it he led the mare through, and (after +unharnessing her) fed her. This done, he next entered the house and had +dinner with the merchant's workingman, and to them he related what an +important mission he had been sent on, making himself very amusing by +the pompous air which he assumed. Dinner over, he carried a letter to +the merchant which the noblewoman had given him to deliver. + +The merchant, knowing thoroughly the reputation which Polikey bore, +felt doubtful of trusting him with so much money, and somewhat anxiously +inquired if he really had received orders to carry so many rubles. + +Polikey tried to appear offended at this question, but did not succeed, +and he only smiled. + +The merchant, after reading the letter a second time and being convinced +that all was right, gave Polikey the money, which he put in his bosom +for safe-keeping. + +On his way to the house he did not once stop at any of the shops he +passed. The clothing establishments possessed no attractions for him, +and after he had safely passed them all he stood for a moment, feeling +very pleased that he had been able to withstand temptation, and then +went on his way. + +"I have money enough to buy up everything," he said; "but I will not do +so." + +The numerous commissions which he had received compelled him to go to +the bazaar. There he bought only what had been ordered, but he could +not resist the temptation to ask the price of a very handsome sheep-skin +coat which attracted his attention. The merchant to whom he spoke looked +at Polikey and smiled, not believing that he had sufficient money to +purchase such an expensive coat. But Polikey, pointing to his breast, +said that he could buy out the whole shop if he wished to. He thereupon +ordered the shop-keeper to take his measure. He tried the coat on and +looked himself over carefully, testing the quality and blowing upon the +hair to see that none of it came out. Finally, heaving a deep sigh, he +took it off. + +"The price is too high," he said. "If you could let me have it for +fifteen rubles--" + +But the merchant cut him short by snatching the coat from him and +throwing it angrily to one side. + +Polikey left the bazaar and returned to the merchant's house in high +spirits. + +After supper he went out and fed the mare, and prepared everything for +the night. Returning to the house he got up on the stove to rest, and +while there he took out the envelope which contained the money and +looked long and earnestly at it. He could not read, but asked one of +those present to tell him what the writing on the envelope meant. It +was simply the address and the announcement that it contained fifteen +hundred rubles. + +The envelope was made of common paper and was sealed with dark-brown +sealing wax. There was one large seal in the centre and four smaller +ones at the corners. Polikey continued to examine it carefully, even +inserting his finger till he touched the crisp notes. He appeared to +take a childish delight in having so much money in his possession. + +Having finished his examination, he put the envelope inside the lining +of his old battered hat, and placing both under his head he went to +sleep; but during the night he frequently awoke and always felt to +know if the money was safe. Each time that he found that it was safe he +rejoiced at the thought that he, Polikey, abused and regarded by every +one as a thief, was intrusted with the care of such a large sum of +money, and also that he was about to return with it quite as safely as +the superintendent himself could have done. + + +CHAPTER V. + +Before dawn the next morning Polikey was up, and after harnessing the +mare and looking in his hat to see that the money was all right, he +started on his return journey. + +Many times on the way Polikey took off his hat to see that the money was +safe. Once he said to himself, "I think that perhaps it would be better +if I should put it in my bosom." This would necessitate the untying of +his sash, so he decided to keep it still in his hat, or until he should +have made half the journey, when he would be compelled to stop to feed +his horse and to rest. + +He said to himself: "The lining is not sewn in very strongly and the +envelope might fall out, so I think I had better not take off my hat +until I reach home." + +The money was safe--at least, so it seemed to him--and he began to +think how grateful his mistress would be to him, and in his excited +imagination he saw the five rubles he was so sure of receiving. + +Once more he examined the hat to see that the money was safe, and +finding everything all right he put on his hat and pulled it well down +over his ears, smiling all the while at his own thoughts. + +Akulina had carefully sewed all the holes in the hat, but it burst out +in other places owing to Polikey's removing it so often. + +In the darkness he did not notice the new rents, and tried to push the +envelope further under the lining, and in doing so pushed one corner of +it through the plush. + +The sun was getting high in the heavens, and Polikey having slept but +little the previous night and feeling its warm rays fell fast asleep, +after first pressing his hat more firmly on his head. By this action +he forced the envelope still further through the plush, and as he rode +along his head bobbed up and down. + +Polikey did not awake till he arrived near his own house, and his first +act was to put his hand to his head to learn if his hat was all right. +Finding that it was in its place, he did not think it necessary to +examine it and see that the money was safe. Touching the mare gently +with the whip she started into a trot, and as he rode along he arranged +in his own mind how much he was to receive. With the air of a man +already holding a high position at the court, he looked around him with +an expression of lofty scorn on his face. + +As he neared his house he could see before him the one room which +constituted their humble home, and the joiner's wife next door carrying +her rolls of linen. He saw also the office of the court and his +mistress's house, where he hoped he would be able presently to prove +that he was an honest, trustworthy man. + +He reasoned with himself that any person can be abused by lying tongues, +but when his mistress would see him she would say: "Well done, Polikey; +you have shown that you can be honest. Here are three--it may be +five--perhaps ten--rubles for you;" and also she would order tea for +him, and might treat him to vodki--who knows? + +The latter thought gave him great pleasure, as he was feeling very cold. + +Speaking aloud he said: "What a happy holy-day we can have with ten +rubles! Having so much money, I could pay Nikita the four rubles fifty +kopecks which I owe him, and yet have some left to buy shoes for the +children." + +When near the house Polikey began to arrange his clothes, smoothing +down his fur collar, re-tying his sash, and stroking his hair. To do the +latter he had to take off his hat, and when doing so felt in the lining +for the envelope. Quicker and quicker he ran his hand around the lining, +and not finding the money used both hands, first one and then the other. +But the envelope was not to be found. + +Polikey was by this time greatly distressed, and his face was white with +fear as he passed his hand through the crown of his old hat. Polikey +stopped the mare and began a diligent search through the wagon and +its contents. Not finding the precious envelope, he felt in all his +pockets--BUT THE MONEY COULD NOT BE FOUND! + +Wildly clutching at his hair, he exclaimed: "Batiushka! What will I do +now? What will become of me?" At the same time he realized that he was +near his neighbors' house and could be seen by them; so he turned the +mare around, and, pulling his hat down securely upon his head, he rode +quickly back in search of his lost treasure. + + +CHAPTER VI. + +The whole day passed without any one in the village of Pokrovski having +seen anything of Polikey. During the afternoon his mistress inquired +many times as to his whereabouts, and sent Aksiutka frequently to +Akulina, who each time sent back word that Polikey had not yet returned, +saying also that perhaps the merchant had kept him, or that something +had happened to the mare. + +His poor wife felt a heavy load upon her heart, and was scarcely able to +do her housework and put everything in order for the next day (which was +to be a holy-day). The children also anxiously awaited their father's +appearance, and, though for different reasons, could hardly restrain +their impatience. The noblewoman and Akulina were concerned only in +regard to Polikey himself, while the children were interested most in +what he would bring them from the town. + +The only news received by the villagers during the day concerning +Polikey was to the effect that neighboring peasants had seen him running +up and down the road and asking every one he met if he or she had found +an envelope. + +One of them had seen him also walking by the side of his tired-out +horse. "I thought," said he, "that the man was drunk, and had not fed +his horse for two days--the animal looked so exhausted." + +Unable to sleep, and with her heart palpitating at every sound, Akulina +lay awake all night vainly awaiting Polikey's return. When the cock +crowed the third time she was obliged to get up to attend to the fire. +Day was just dawning and the church-bells had begun to ring. Soon all +the children were also up, but there was still no tidings of the missing +husband and father. + +In the morning the chill blasts of winter entered their humble home, and +on looking out they saw that the houses, fields, and roads were thickly +covered with snow. The day was clear and cold, as if befitting the +holy-day they were about to celebrate. They were able to see a long +distance from the house, but no one was in sight. + +Akulina was busy baking cakes, and had it not been for the joyous shouts +of the children she would not have known that Polikey was coming up the +road, for a few minutes later he came in with a bundle in his hand and +walked quietly to his corner. Akulina noticed that he was very pale and +that his face bore an expression of suffering--as if he would like to +have cried but could not do so. But she did not stop to study it, but +excitedly inquired: "What! Illitch, is everything all right with you?" + +He slowly muttered something, but his wife could not understand what he +said. + +"What!" she cried out, "have you been to see our mistress?" + +Polikey still sat on the bed in his corner, glaring wildly about him, +and smiling bitterly. He did not reply for a long time, and Akulina +again cried: + +"Eh? Illitch! Why don't you answer me? Why don't you speak?" + +Finally he said: "Akulina, I delivered the money to our mistress; and +oh, how she thanked me!" Then he suddenly looked about him, with an +anxious, startled air, and with a sad smile on his lips. Two things in +the room seemed to engross the most of his attention: the baby in the +cradle, and the rope which was attached to the ladder. Approaching the +cradle, he began with his thin fingers quickly to untie the knot in the +rope by which the two were connected. After untying it he stood for a +few moments looking silently at the baby. + +Akulina did not notice this proceeding, and with her cakes on the board +went to place them in a corner. + +Polikey quickly hid the rope beneath his coat, and again seated himself +on the bed. + +"What is it that troubles you, Illitch?" inquired Akulina. "You are not +yourself." + +"I have not slept," he answered. + +Suddenly a dark shadow crossed the window, and a minute later the girl +Aksiutka quickly entered the room, exclaiming: + +"The boyarinia commands you, Polikey Illitch, to come to her this +moment!" + +Polikey looked first at Akulina and then at the girl. + +"This moment!" he cried. "What more is wanted?" + +He spoke the last sentence so softly that Akulina became quieted in +her mind, thinking that perhaps their mistress intended to reward her +husband. + +"Say that I will come immediately," he said. + +But Polikey failed to follow the girl, and went instead to another +place. + +From the porch of his house there was a ladder reaching to the attic. +Arriving at the foot of the ladder Polikey looked around him, and seeing +no one about, he quickly ascended to the garret. + +***** + +Meanwhile the girl had reached her mistress's house. + +"What does it mean that Polikey does not come?" said the noblewoman +impatiently. "Where can he be? Why does he not come at once?" + +Aksiutka flew again to his house and demanded to see Polikey. + +"He went a long time ago," answered Akulina, and looking around with an +expression of fear on her face, she added, "He may have fallen asleep +somewhere on the way." + +About this time the joiner's wife, with hair unkempt and clothes +bedraggled, went up to the loft to gather the linen which she had +previously put there to dry. Suddenly a cry of horror was heard, and +the woman, with her eyes closed, and crazed by fear, ran down the ladder +like a cat. + +"Illitch," she cried, "has hanged himself!" + +Poor Akulina ran up the ladder before any of the people, who had +gathered from the surrounding houses, could prevent her. With a loud +shriek she fell back as if dead, and would surely have been killed had +not one of the spectators succeeded in catching her in his arms. + +Before dark the same day a peasant of the village, while returning from +the town, found the envelope containing Polikey's money on the roadside, +and soon after delivered it to the boyarinia. + + + + +THE CANDLE. + + "Ye have heard that it hath been said, an eye for an eye and a + tooth for a tooth: but I say unto you, That ye resist not + evil."--ST. MATTHEW V. 38, 39. + +It was in the time of serfdom--many years before Alexander II.'s +liberation of the sixty million serfs in 1862. In those days the people +were ruled by different kinds of lords. There were not a few who, +remembering God, treated their slaves in a humane manner, and not as +beasts of burden, while there were others who were seldom known to +perform a kind or generous action; but the most barbarous and tyrannical +of all were those former serfs who arose from the dirt and became +princes. + +It was this latter class who made life literally a burden to those +who were unfortunate enough to come under their rule. Many of them had +arisen from the ranks of the peasantry to become superintendents of +noblemen's estates. + +The peasants were obliged to work for their master a certain number of +days each week. There was plenty of land and water and the soil was rich +and fertile, while the meadows and forests were sufficient to supply the +needs of both the peasants and their lord. + +There was a certain nobleman who had chosen a superintendent from the +peasantry on one of his other estates. No sooner had the power to govern +been vested in this newly-made official than he began to practice the +most outrageous cruelties upon the poor serfs who had been placed under +his control. Although this man had a wife and two married daughters, +and was making so much money that he could have lived happily without +transgressing in any way against either God or man, yet he was filled +with envy and jealousy and deeply sunk in sin. + +Michael Simeonovitch began his persecutions by compelling the peasants +to perform more days of service on the estate every week than the laws +obliged them to work. He established a brick-yard, in which he forced +the men and women to do excessive labor, selling the bricks for his own +profit. + +On one occasion the overworked serfs sent a delegation to Moscow +to complain of their treatment to their lord, but they obtained no +satisfaction. When the poor peasants returned disconsolate from the +nobleman their superintendent determined to have revenge for their +boldness in going above him for redress, and their life and that of +their fellow-victims became worse than before. + +It happened that among the serfs there were some very treacherous people +who would falsely accuse their fellows of wrong-doing and sow seeds +of discord among the peasantry, whereupon Michael would become greatly +enraged, while his poor subjects began to live in fear of their lives. +When the superintendent passed through the village the people would run +and hide themselves as from a wild beast. Seeing thus the terror which +he had struck to the hearts of the moujiks, Michael's treatment of them +became still more vindictive, so that from over-work and ill-usage the +lot of the poor serfs was indeed a hard one. + +There was a time when it was possible for the peasants, when driven to +despair, to devise means whereby they could rid themselves of an inhuman +monster such as Simeonovitch, and so these unfortunate people began to +consider whether something could not be done to relieve THEM of their +intolerable yoke. They would hold little meetings in secret places to +bewail their misery and to confer with one another as to which would +be the best way to act. Now and then the boldest of the gathering would +rise and address his companions in this strain: "How much longer can +we tolerate such a villain to rule over us? Let us make an end of it at +once, for it were better for us to perish than to suffer. It is surely +not a sin to kill such a devil in human form." + +It happened once, before the Easter holidays, that one of these meetings +was held in the woods, where Michael had sent the serfs to make a +clearance for their master. At noon they assembled to eat their dinner +and to hold a consultation. "Why can't we leave now?" said one. "Very +soon we shall be reduced to nothing. Already we are almost worked to +death--there being no rest, night or day, either for us or our poor +women. If anything should be done in a way not exactly to please him he +will find fault and perhaps flog some of us to death--as was the case +with poor Simeon, whom he killed not long ago. Only recently Anisim +was tortured in irons till he died. We certainly cannot stand this much +longer." "Yes," said another, "what is the use of waiting? Let us act at +once. Michael will be here this evening, and will be certain to abuse us +shamefully. Let us, then, thrust him from his horse and with one blow of +an axe give him what he deserves, and thus end our misery. We can then +dig a big hole and bury him like a dog, and no one will know what became +of him. Now let us come to an agreement--to stand together as one man +and not to betray one another." + +The last speaker was Vasili Minayeff, who, if possible, had more cause +to complain of Michael's cruelty than any of his fellow-serfs. The +superintendent was in the habit of flogging him severely every week, and +he took also Vasili's wife to serve him as cook. + +Accordingly, during the evening that followed this meeting in the woods +Michael arrived on the scene on horseback. He began at once to find +fault with the manner in which the work had been done, and to complain +because some lime-trees had been cut down. + +"I told you not to cut down any lime-trees!" shouted the enraged +superintendent. "Who did this thing? Tell me at once, or I shall flog +every one of you!" + +On investigation, a peasant named Sidor was pointed out as the guilty +one, and his face was roundly slapped. Michael also severely punished +Vasili, because he had not done sufficient work, after which the master +rode safely home. + +In the evening the serfs again assembled, and poor Vasili said: "Oh, +what kind of people ARE we, anyway? We are only sparrows, and not men at +all! We agree to stand by each other, but as soon as the time for action +comes we all run and hide. Once a lot of sparrows conspired against a +hawk, but no sooner did the bird of prey appear than they sneaked off in +the grass. Selecting one of the choicest sparrows, the hawk took it away +to eat, after which the others came out crying, 'Twee-twee!' and found +that one was missing. 'Who is killed?' they asked. 'Vanka! Well, he +deserved it.' You, my friends, are acting in just the same manner. When +Michael attacked Sidor you should have stood by your promise. Why didn't +you arise, and with one stroke put an end to him and to our misery?" + +The effect of this speech was to make the peasants more firm in their +determination to kill their superintendent. The latter had already given +orders that they should be ready to plough during the Easter holidays, +and to sow the field with oats, whereupon the serfs became stricken +with grief, and gathered in Vasili's house to hold another indignation +meeting. "If he has really forgotten God," they said, "and shall +continue to commit such crimes against us, it is truly necessary that we +should kill him. If not, let us perish, for it can make no difference to +us now." + +This despairing programme, however, met with considerable opposition +from a peaceably-inclined man named Peter Mikhayeff. "Brethren," said +he, "you are contemplating a grievous sin. The taking of human life is a +very serious matter. Of course it is easy to end the mortal existence of +a man, but what will become of the souls of those who commit the deed? +If Michael continues to act toward us unjustly God will surely punish +him. But, my friends, we must have patience." + +This pacific utterance only served to intensify the anger of Vasili. +Said he: "Peter is forever repeating the same old story, 'It is a sin to +kill any one.' Certainly it is sinful to murder; but we should consider +the kind of man we are dealing with. We all know it is wrong to kill a +good man, but even God would take away the life of such a dog as he is. +It is our duty, if we have any love for mankind, to shoot a dog that +is mad. It is a sin to let him live. If, therefore, we are to suffer at +all, let it be in the interests of the people--and they will thank +us for it. If we remain quiet any longer a flogging will be our only +reward. You are talking nonsense, Mikhayeff. Why don't you think of the +sin we shall be committing if we work during the Easter holidays--for +you will refuse to work then yourself?" + +"Well, then," replied Peter, "if they shall send me to plough, I will +go. But I shall not be going of my own free will, and God will know +whose sin it is, and shall punish the offender accordingly. Yet we must +not forget him. Brethren, I am not giving you my own views only. The law +of God is not to return evil for evil; indeed, if you try in this way to +stamp out wickedness it will come upon you all the stronger. It is not +difficult for you to kill the man, but his blood will surely stain your +own soul. You may think you have killed a bad man--that you have gotten +rid of evil--but you will soon find out that the seeds of still greater +wickedness have been planted within you. If you yield to misfortune it +will surely come to you." + +As Peter was not without sympathizers among the peasants, the poor serfs +were consequently divided into two groups: the followers of Vasili and +those who held the views of Mikhayeff. + +On Easter Sunday no work was done. Toward the evening an elder came to +the peasants from the nobleman's court and said: "Our superintendent, +Michael Simeonovitch, orders you to go to-morrow to plough the field for +the oats." Thus the official went through the village and directed the +men to prepare for work the next day--some by the river and others by +the roadway. The poor people were almost overcome with grief, many +of them shedding tears, but none dared to disobey the orders of their +master. + +On the morning of Easter Monday, while the church bells were calling the +inhabitants to religious services, and while every one else was about to +enjoy a holiday, the unfortunate serfs started for the field to plough. +Michael arose rather late and took a walk about the farm. The domestic +servants were through with their work and had dressed themselves for the +day, while Michael's wife and their widowed daughter (who was visiting +them, as was her custom on holidays) had been to church and returned. A +steaming samovar awaited them, and they began to drink tea with Michael, +who, after lighting his pipe, called the elder to him. + +"Well," said the superintendent, "have you ordered the moujiks to plough +to-day?" + +"Yes, sir, I did," was the reply. + +"Have they all gone to the field?" + +"Yes, sir; all of them. I directed them myself where to begin." + +"That is all very well. You gave the orders, but are they ploughing? +Go at once and see, and you may tell them that I shall be there after +dinner. I shall expect to find one and a half acres done for every +two ploughs, and the work must be well done; otherwise they shall be +severely punished, notwithstanding the holiday." + +"I hear, sir, and obey." + +The elder started to go, but Michael called him back. After hesitating +for some time, as if he felt very uneasy, he said: + +"By the way, listen to what those scoundrels say about me. Doubtless +some of them will curse me, and I want you to report the exact words. I +know what villains they are. They don't find work at all pleasant. They +would rather lie down all day and do nothing. They would like to eat and +drink and make merry on holidays, but they forget that if the ploughing +is not done it will soon be too late. So you go and listen to what is +said, and tell it to me in detail. Go at once." + +"I hear, sir, and obey." + +Turning his back and mounting his horse, the elder was soon at the field +where the serfs were hard at work. + +It happened that Michael's wife, a very good-hearted woman, overheard +the conversation which her husband had just been holding with the elder. +Approaching him, she said: + +"My good friend, Mishinka [diminutive of Michael], I beg of you to +consider the importance and solemnity of this holy-day. Do not sin, for +Christ's sake. Let the poor moujiks go home." + +Michael laughed, but made no reply to his wife's humane request. Finally +he said to her: + +"You've not been whipped for a very long time, and now you have become +bold enough to interfere in affairs that are not your own." + +"Mishinka," she persisted, "I have had a frightful dream concerning you. +You had better let the moujiks go." + +"Yes," said he; "I perceive that you have gained so much flesh of late +that you think you would not feel the whip. Lookout!" + +Rudely thrusting his hot pipe against her cheek, Michael chased his wife +from the room, after which he ordered his dinner. After eating a hearty +meal consisting of cabbage-soup, roast pig, meat-cake, pastry with +milk, jelly, sweet cakes, and vodki, he called his woman cook to him and +ordered her to be seated and sing songs, Simeonovitch accompanying her +on the guitar. + +While the superintendent was thus enjoying himself to the fullest +satisfaction in the musical society of his cook the elder returned, +and, making a low bow to his superior, proceeded to give the desired +information concerning the serfs. + +"Well," asked Michael, "did they plough?" + +"Yes," replied the elder; "they have accomplished about half the field." + +"Is there no fault to be found?" + +"Not that I could discover. The work seems to be well done. They are +evidently afraid of you." + +"How is the soil?" + +"Very good. It appears to be quite soft." + +"Well," said Simeonovitch, after a pause, "what did they say about me? +Cursed me, I suppose?" + +As the elder hesitated somewhat, Michael commanded him to speak and tell +him the whole truth. "Tell me all," said he; "I want to know their exact +words. If you tell me the truth I shall reward you; but if you conceal +anything from me you will be punished. See here, Catherine, pour out a +glass of vodki to give him courage!" + +After drinking to the health of his superior, the elder said to himself: +"It is not my fault if they do not praise him. I shall tell him the +truth." Then turning suddenly to the superintendent he said: + +"They complain, Michael Simeonovitch! They complain bitterly." + +"But what did they say?" demanded Michael. "Tell me!" + +"Well, one thing they said was, 'He does not believe in God.'" + +Michael laughed. "Who said that?" he asked. + +"It seemed to be their unanimous opinion. 'He has been overcome by the +Evil One,' they said." + +"Very good," laughed the superintendent; "but tell me what each of them +said. What did Vasili say?" + +The elder did not wish to betray his people, but he had a certain grudge +against Vasili, and he said: + +"He cursed you more than did any of the others." + +"But what did he say?" + +"It is awful to repeat it, sir. Vasili said, 'He shall die like a dog, +having no chance to repent!'" + +"Oh, the villain!" exclaimed Michael. "He would kill me if he were not +afraid. All right, Vasili; we shall have an accounting with you. And +Tishka--he called me a dog, I suppose?" + +"Well," said the elder, "they all spoke of you in anything but +complimentary terms; but it is mean in me to repeat what they said." + +"Mean or not you must tell me, I say!" + +"Some of them declared that your back should be broken." + +Simeonovitch appeared to enjoy this immensely, for he laughed outright. +"We shall see whose back will be the first to be broken," said he. "Was +that Tishka's opinion? While I did not suppose they would say anything +good about me, I did not expect such curses and threats. And Peter +Mikhayeff--was that fool cursing me too?" + +"No; he did not curse you at all. He appeared to be the only silent one +among them. Mikhayeff is a very wise moujik, and he surprises me very +much. At his actions all the other peasants seemed amazed." + +"What did he do?" + +"He did something remarkable. He was diligently ploughing, and as I +approached him I heard some one singing very sweetly. Looking between +the ploughshares, I observed a bright object shining." + +"Well, what was it? Hurry up!" + +"It was a small, five-kopeck wax candle, burning brightly, and the wind +was unable to blow it out. Peter, wearing a new shirt, sang beautiful +hymns as he ploughed, and no matter how he handled the implement the +candle continued to burn. In my presence he fixed the plough, shaking +it violently, but the bright little object between the colters remained +undisturbed." + +"And what did Mikhayeff say?" + +"He said nothing--except when, on seeing me, he gave me the holy-day +salutation, after which he went on his way singing and ploughing as +before. I did not say anything to him, but, on approaching the other +moujiks, I found that they were laughing and making sport of their +silent companion. 'It is a great sin to plough on Easter Monday,' they +said. 'You could not get absolution from your sin if you were to pray +all your life.'" + +"And did Mikhayeff make no reply?" + +"He stood long enough to say: 'There should be peace on earth and +good-will to men,' after which he resumed his ploughing and singing, the +candle burning even more brightly than before." + +Simeonovitch had now ceased to ridicule, and, putting aside his guitar, +his head dropped on his breast and he became lost in thought. Presently +he ordered the elder and cook to depart, after which Michael went behind +a screen and threw himself upon the bed. He was sighing and moaning, as +if in great distress, when his wife came in and spoke kindly to him. He +refused to listen to her, exclaiming: + +"He has conquered me, and my end is near!" + +"Mishinka," said the woman, "arise and go to the moujiks in the field. +Let them go home, and everything will be all right. Heretofore you have +run far greater risks without any fear, but now you appear to be very +much alarmed." + +"He has conquered me!" he repeated. "I am lost!" + +"What do you mean?" demanded his wife, angrily. "If you will go and +do as I tell you there will be no danger. Come, Mishinka," she added, +tenderly; "I shall have the saddle-horse brought for you at once." + +When the horse arrived the woman persuaded her husband to mount the +animal, and to fulfil her request concerning the serfs. When he reached +the village a woman opened the gate for him to enter, and as he did so +the inhabitants, seeing the brutal superintendent whom everybody feared, +ran to hide themselves in their houses, gardens, and other secluded +places. + +At length Michael reached the other gate, which he found closed also, +and, being unable to open it himself while seated on his horse, he +called loudly for assistance. As no one responded to his shouts he +dismounted and opened the gate, but as he was about to remount, and had +one foot in the stirrup, the horse became frightened at some pigs and +sprang suddenly to one side. The superintendent fell across the +fence and a very sharp picket pierced his stomach, when Michael fell +unconscious to the ground. + +Toward the evening, when the serfs arrived at the village gate, their +horses refused to enter. On looking around, the peasants discovered +the dead body of their superintendent lying face downward in a pool of +blood, where he had fallen from the fence. Peter Mikhayeff alone had +sufficient courage to dismount and approach the prostrate form, his +companions riding around the village and entering by way of the back +yards. Peter closed the dead man's eyes, after which he put the body in +a wagon and took it home. + +When the nobleman learned of the fatal accident which had befallen his +superintendent, and of the brutal treatment which he had meted out to +those under him, he freed the serfs, exacting a small rent for the use +of his land and the other agricultural opportunities. + +And thus the peasants clearly understood that the power of God is +manifested not in evil, but in goodness. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Kreutzer Sonata and Other Stories, by +Leo Tolstoi + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KREUTZER SONATA *** + +***** This file should be named 689.txt or 689.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/8/689/ + +Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Redemption and Two Other Plays + +Author: Leo Tolstoy et al + +Release Date: January, 2006 [EBook #9792] +[This file was first posted on October 17, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, REDEMPTION AND TWO OTHER PLAYS *** + + + + +E-text prepared by David Starner, Skip Doughty, and Project Gutenberg +Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + +REDEMPTION AND TWO OTHER PLAYS + +By LEO TOLSTOY + +Introduction By ARTHUR HOPKINS + + + + + + + +CONTENTS + +INTRODUCTION BY ARTHUR HOPKINS +REDEMPTION +THE POWER OF DARKNESS +FRUITS OF CULTURE + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +After making a production of _Redemption_, the chief feeling of the +producer is one of deep regret that Tolstoi did not make more use of +the theatre as a medium. His was the rare gift of vitalization: the +ability to breathe life into word-people which survives in them so +long as there is any one left to turn up the pages they have made +their abode. + +In the world of writing, many terms that should be illuminative have +become meaningless. So often has the barren been called "pregnant," +the chill of death "the breath of life," the atrophied "pulsating," +that when we really come upon a work with beating heart we find it +difficult to give it place that has not already been stuffed to +suffocation with misplaced dummies. + +We seat it at table with staring wax figures and bid it to join the +feast. There is no exclusion act in art, no passport bureau, not even +hygienic segregation. + +In writing the briefest introduction to Tolstoi's work, I am appointed +by the publisher, a sort of reception committee of one to escort the +work to some fitting place where it may enjoy the surroundings and +deference it deserves. + +The place to which I escort it is built of words, but what words have +been left me by the long procession of previous committees? Where they +have been truthfully used they have been glorified, and offer all the +rarer material for my structure, but how often have they been +subjected to base use. Perhaps some day we will learn the proper +respect of such simple words as love and truth and life, and then when +we meet them in books we shall know how to greet them. + +The study of _Redemption_ is so simple that it needs no illumination +from me. The characters may walk in strange lands without +introduction. They are part of us. Fedya is in all of us. His one cry +"There has always been so much lacking between what I felt and what I +could do" instantly makes him brother to all mankind. His simultaneous +physical degeneration and spiritual regeneration is the glory that all +people have invested in death. Tolstoi's cry against convention that +disregards spiritual struggle, and system that ignores human growth, +will find answering cries in many breasts in many lands. + +Utterly disregarding effect, technique or method, Tolstoi has explored +his own soul and there touched hands with countless other souls, and +since he has trod the path of countless millions who will come after +him, the mementos of his journey will long be sought. + +ARTHUR HOPKINS. + + +The translation of _Redemption_ here published is the one produced by +Mr. Arthur Hopkins at the Plymouth Theatre, New York, in the season of +1918-1919. The part of FEDYA was played by Mr. John Barrymore. + + + + + + +REDEMPTION + + + + +CHARACTERS + +THEODORE VASILYEVICH PROTOSOV (FEDYA). +ELISABETH ANDREYEVNA PROTOSOVA (LISA). His wife. +MISHA. Their son. +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Lisa's mother. +SASHA. Lisa's younger, unmarried sister. +VICTOR MICHAELOVITCH KARENIN. +SOPHIA DMITRIEVNA KARENINA. +PRINCE SERGIUS DMITRIEVICH ABRESKOV. +MASHA. A gypsy girl. +IVAN MAKAROVICH. An old gypsy man. Masha's parent. +NASTASIA IVANOVNA. An old gypsy woman. Masha's parent. +OFFICER. +MUSICIAN. +FIRST GYPSY MAN. +SECOND GYPSY MAN. +GYPSY WOMAN. +GYPSY CHOIR. +DOCTOR. +MICHAEL ALEXANDROVICH AFREMOV. +STAKHOV. One of Fedya's boon companions. +BUTKEVICH. One of Fedya's boon companions. +KOROTKOV. One of Fedya's boon companions. +IVAN PETROVICH ALEXANDROV. +VOZNESENSKY. Karenin's secretary. +PETUSHKOV. An artist. +ARTIMIEV. +WAITER IN THE PRIVATE ROOM AT THE RESTAURANT. +WAITER IN A LOW-CLASS RESTAURANT. +MANAGER OF THE SAME. +POLICEMAN. +INVESTIGATING MAGISTRATE. +MELNIKOV. +CLERK. +USHER. +YOUNG LAWYER. +PETRUSHIN. A lawyer. +LADY. +ANOTHER OFFICER. +ATTENDANT AT LAW COURTS. +PROTOSOVS' NURSE. +PROTOSOVS' MAID. +AFREMOV'S FOOTMAN. +KARENINS' FOOTMAN. + + + + +ACT I + +SCENE I + +Protosovs' flat in Moscow. The scene represents a small dining room. +ANNA PAVLOVNA, a stout, gray-haired lady, tightly laced, is sitting +alone at the tea-table on which is a samovar. + +Enter NURSE carrying a tea-pot. + +NURSE (enters R. I, over to table C.). Please, Madam, may I have some +water? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA (sitting R. of table C.). Certainly. How is the baby +now? + +NURSE. Oh, restless, fretting all the time. There's nothing worse than +for a lady to nurse her child. She has her worries and the baby +suffers for them. What sort of milk could she have, not peeping all +night, and crying and crying? + + [SASHA enters R. I, strolls to L. of table C. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. But I thought she was more calm now? + +NURSE. Fine calm! It makes me sick to look at her. She's just been +writing something and crying all the time. + +SASHA (to nurse). Lisa's looking for you. + + [Sits in chair L. of table C. + +NURSE. I'm going. + + [Exits R. I. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Nurse says she's always crying. Why can't she try and +calm herself a little? + +SASHA. Well, really, Mother, you're amazing. How can you expect her to +behave as if nothing had happened when she's just left her husband and +taken her baby with her? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Well, I don't exactly, but that's all over. If I +approve of my daughter's having left her husband, if I'm ever glad, +well, you may be quite sure he deserved it. She has no reason to be +miserable--on the contrary, she ought to be delighted at being freed +from such a wretch. + +SASHA. Mother! Why do you go on like this? It's not the truth and you +know it. He's not a wretch, he's wonderful. Yes, in spite of all his +weakness. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. I suppose you'd like her to wait till he'd spent every +kopec they had, and smile sweetly when be brought his gypsy mistresses +home with him. + +SASHA. He hasn't any mistresses. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. There you go again. Why, the man's simply bewitched +you, but I can see through him, and he knows it. If I'd been Lisa, I'd +left him a year ago. + +SASHA. Oh, how easily you speak of these serious things. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Not easily, not easily at all. Do you suppose it's +agreeable for me to have my daughter admit her marriage a failure? But +anything's better than for her to throw away her life in a lie. Thank +God, she's made up her mind to finish with him for good. + +SASHA. Maybe it won't be for good. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. It would be if only he'd give her a divorce. + +SASHA. To what end? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Because she's young and has the right to look for +happiness. + +SASHA. It's awful to listen to you. How could she love some one else? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Why not? There are thousands better than your Fedya, +and they'd be only too happy to marry Lisa. + +SASHA. Oh, it's not nice of you. I feel, I can tell, you're thinking +about Victor Karenin. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Why not? He loved her for ten years, and she him, I +believe. + +SASHA. Yes, but she doesn't love him as a husband. They grew up +together; they've just been friends. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Ah, those friendships! How should you know what keeps +them warm! If only they were both free! + + [Enter a MAID L. U. + +Well? + +MAID. The porter's just come back with an answer to the note. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. What note? + +MAID. The note Elizaveta Protosova sent to Victor Karenin. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Well? What answer? + +MAID. Victor Karenin told the porter he'd be here directly. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Very well. + + [MAID exits L. U. + + [To SASHA. + +Why do you suppose she sent for him? Do you know? + +SASHA. Maybe I do and maybe I don't. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. You're always so full of secrets. + +SASHA. Ask Lisa, she'll tell you. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Just as I thought! She sent for him at once. + +SASHA. Yes, but maybe not for the reason you think. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Then what for? + +SASHA. Why, Mother, Lisa cares just about as much for Victor Karenin +as she does for her old nurse. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. You'll see. She wants consolation, a special sort of +consolation. + +SASHA. Really, it shows you don't know Lisa at all to talk like this. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. You'll see. Sasha. Yes, I shall see. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA (alone to herself). And I am very glad. I'm very, very +glad. + + [Enter MAID. + +MAID. Victor Karenin. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Show him here and tell your mistress. + + [MAID shows in KARENIN and exits door R. I. + +KARENIN (goes C. and stands behind table C.). (Shaking hands with Anna +Pavlovna.) Elizaveta Andreyevna sent me a note to come at once. I +should have been here to-night anyway. How is she? Well, I hope. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Not very. The baby has been upset again. However, +she'll be here in a minute. Will you have some tea? + +KARENIN. No, thank you. + + [Sits chair R. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Tell me, do you know that he and she--. + +KARENIN. Yes, I was here two days ago when she got this letter. Is she +positive now about their separating? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Oh, absolutely. It would be impossible to begin it all +over again. + +KARENIN. Yes. To cut into living things and then draw back the knife +is terrible. But are you sure she knows her mind? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. I should think so. To come to this decision has caused +her much pain. But now it's final, and he understands perfectly that +his behavior has made it impossible for him to come back on any terms. + +KARENIN. Why? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. After breaking every oath he swore to decency, how +could he come back? And so why shouldn't he give her her freedom? + +KARENIN. What freedom is there for a woman still married? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Divorce. He promised her a divorce and we shall insist +upon it. + +KARENIN. But your daughter was so in love with him? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Her love has been tried out of existence. Remember she +had everything to contend with: drunkenness, gambling, infidelity-- +what was there to go on loving in such a person? + +KARENIN. Love can do anything. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. How can one love a rag torn by every wind? Their +affairs were in dreadful shape; their estate mortgaged; no money +anywhere. Finally his uncle sends them two thousand rubles to pay the +interest on the estate. He takes it, disappears, leaves Lisa home and +the baby sick--when suddenly she gets a note asking her to send him +his linen. + +KARENIN. I know. + + [Enter LISA R.I. KARENIN crosses to LISA. + +I'm sorry to have been a little detained. + + [Shakes hands with LISA. + +LISA. Oh, thank you so much for coming. I have a great favor to ask of +you. Something I couldn't ask of anybody else. + +KARENIN. I'll do everything I can. + + [LISA moves away a few steps down R. + +LISA. You know all about this. + + [Sits chair R. + +KARENIN. Yes, I know. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Well, I think I'll leave you two young people to +yourselves. (To SASHA.) Come along, dear, you and I will be just in +the way. + + [Exit L. U. ANNA PAVLOVNA and SASHA. + +LISA. Fedya wrote to me saying it was all over between us. (She begins +to cry.) That hurt me so, bewildered me so, that--well, I agreed to +separate. I wrote to him saying I was willing to give him up if he +wanted me to. + +KARENIN. And now you're sorry? + +LISA (nodding). I feel I oughtn't to have said yes. I can't. Anything +is better than not to see him again. Victor dear, I want you to give +him this letter and tell him what I've told you, and--and bring him +back to me. + + [Gives VICTOR a letter. + +KARENIN. I'll do what I can. + + [Takes letter, turns away and sits chair R. of table C. + +LISA. Tell him I will forget everything if only he will come back. I +thought of mailing this, only I know him: he'd have a good impulse, +first thwarted by some one, some one who would finally make him act +against himself. + + [Pause. + +Are you--are you surprised I asked you? + +KARENIN. No. (He hesitates.) But--well, candidly, yes. I am rather +surprised. + +LISA. But you are not angry? + +KARENIN. You know I couldn't be angry with you. + +LISA. I ask you because I know you're so fond of him. + +KARENIN. Of him--and of you too. Thank you for trusting me. I'll do +all I can. + +LISA. I know you will. Now I'm going to tell you everything. I went +to-day to Afremov's, to find out where he was. They told me he was +living with the gypsies. Of course that's what I was afraid of. I know +he'll be swept off his feet if he isn't stopped in time. So you'll go, +won't you? + +KARENIN. Where's the place? + +LISA. It's that big tenement where the gypsy orchestra lives, on the +left bank below the bridge. I went there myself. I went as far as the +door, and was just going to send up the letter, but somehow I was +afraid. I don't know why. And then I thought of you. Tell him, tell +him I've forgotten everything and that I'm here waiting for him to +come home. (Crosses to KARENIN--a little pause.) Do it out of love for +him, Victor, and out of friendship for me. + + [Another pause. + +KARENIN. I'll do all I can. + + [He bows to her and goes out L.U. Enter SASHA L.U., goes L. over + near table C. + +SASHA. Has the letter gone? (LISA nods.) He had no objections to +taking it himself? + + [LISA, R. C., shakes head. + +SASHA (L.C.). Why did you ask him? I don't understand it. + +LISA. Who else was there? + +SASHA. But you know he's in love with you. + +LISA. Oh, that's all past. (Over to table C.) Do you think Fedya will +come back? + +SASHA. I'm sure he will, but-- + + [Enter ANNA PAVLOVNA. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Where's Victor Karenin? + +LISA. Gone. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Gone? + +LISA. I've asked him to do something for me. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. What was it? Another secret? + +LISA. No, not a secret. I simply asked him to take a letter to Fedya. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. To Fedor Protosov? + +LISA. Oh, to Fedya, Fedya. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Then it's not going to be over? + +LISA. I can't let him leave me. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Oh, so we shall commence all over again? + +LISA. I'll do anything you like, but I can't give him up. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. You don't mean you want him to come back? + +LISA. Yes, yes. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Let that reptile into the house again! + +LISA. Please don't talk like that. He's my husband. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Was your husband. + +LISA. No. He's still my husband. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Spendthrift. Drunkard. Reprobate. And you'll not part +from him! + +LISA. Oh, Mother, why do you keep on hurting me! You seem to enjoy it. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Hurt you, do I? Enjoy it, do I? Very well, then, if +that's the case, I'd better go. + + [Pause. + +I see I'm in your way. You want me to go. Well, all I can say is I +can't make you out. I suppose you're being "modern" and all that. But +to me, it's just plain disgusting. First, you make up your mind to +separate from your husband, and then you up and send for another man +who's in love with you-- + +LISA. Mother, he's not. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. You know Karenin proposed to you, and he's the man you +pick out to bring back your husband. I suppose you do it just to make +him jealous. + +LISA. Oh, Mother, stop it. Leave me alone. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. That's right. Send off your mother. Open the door to +that awful husband. Well, I can't stand by and see you do it. I'll go. +I'm going. And God be with you and your extraordinary ways. + + [Exit L. U. with suppressed rage. + +LISA (sinking into a chair R. of table C.). That's the last straw. + +SASHA. Oh, she'll come back. We'll make her understand. (Going to the +door and following after her mother.) Now, Mother darling, listen-- +listen-- + + [Exit L. U. + + [All lights dim to black out. + +CURTAIN + + + +SCENE II + +A room at the gypsies', dark but beautifully lit. The actual room is +scarcely seen, and although at first it appears squalid, there are +flaring touches of Byzantine luxury. Gypsies are singing. FEDYA is +lying on the sofa, his eyes closed, coat off. An OFFICER sits at the +table, on which there are bottles of champagne and glasses. Beside him +sits a musician taking down the song. + +AFREMOV (standing L. U.). Asleep? + +FEDYA (on couch L. Raising his hand warningly). Sh! Don't talk! Now +let's have "No More at Evening." + +GYPSY LEADER. Impossible, Fedor Protosov. Masha must have her solo +first. + +FEDYA. Afterwards. Now let's have "No More at Evening." + + [Gypsies sing. + +GYPSY WOMAN (R. C., when they finish singing, turning to Musician who +is sitting at table R., with his back to audience). Have you got it? + +MUSICIAN. It's impossible to take it down correctly. They change the +tune each time, and they seem to have a different scale, too. (He +calls a gypsy woman.) Is this it? + + [He hums a bar or two. + +GYPSY WOMAN (clapping her hands). Splendid! Wonderful! How can you do +it? + +FEDYA (rising. Goes to table L. back of couch and pours out glass of +wine). He'll never get it. And even if he did and shovelled it into an +opera, he'd make it seem absolutely meaningless. + +AFREMOV. Now we'll have "The Fatal Hour." + + [Gypsies sing quartette. During this song, FEDYA is standing down + R., keeping time with the wine glass from which he has drunk. + When they finish he returns to the couch and falls into MASHA'S + arms. + +FEDYA. God! That's it! That's it! That's wonderful. What lovely things +that music says. And where does it all come from, what does it all +mean? + + [Another pause. + +To think that men can touch eternity like that, and then--nothing-- +nothing at all. + +MUSICIAN. Yes, it's very original. + + [Taking notes. + +FEDYA. Original be damned. It's real. + +MUSICIAN. It's all very simple, except the rhythm. That's very +strange. + +FEDYA. Oh, Masha, Masha! You turn my soul inside out. + + [Gypsies hum a song softly. + +MASHA (sitting on couch L. with FEDYA). Do I? But what was it I asked +you for? + +FEDYA. What? Oh, money. Voila, mademoiselle. + + [He takes money front his trousers pocket. MASHA laughs, takes + the money, counts it swiftly, and hides it in her dress. + +FEDYA. Look at this strange creature. When she sings she rushes me +into the sky and all she asks for is money, little presents of money +for throwing open the Gates of Paradise. You don't know yourself, at +all, do you? + +MASHA. What's the use of me wondering about myself? I know when I'm in +love, and I know that I sing best when my love is singing. + +FEDYA. Do you love me? + +MASHA (murmuring). I love you. + +FEDYA. But I am a married man, and you belong to this gypsy troupe. +They wouldn't let you leave it, and-- + +MASHA (interrupting). The troupe's one thing, and my heart's another. +I love those I love, and I hate those I hate. + +FEDYA. Oh, you must be happy to be like that. + +MASHA. I'm always happy when handsome gentlemen come and say nice +things to me. (Gypsies stop singing.) + + [A GYPSY entering speaks to FEDYA. + +GYPSY. Some one asking for you. + +FEDYA. Who? + +Gypsy. Don't know. He's rich, though. Fur coat. + +FEDYA. Fur coat? O my God, show him in. + +AFREMOV. Who the devil wants to see you here? + +FEDYA (carelessly). God knows, I don't. (Begins to hum a song.) + + [KARENIN comes in, looking around the room. + +(Exclaiming). Ha! Victor! You're the last man in the world I expected +to break into this enchanting milieu. Take off your coat, and they'll +sing for you. + +KARENIN. Je voudrais vous parler sans temoins. + + [MASHA rises and joins the group R. + +FEDYA. Oh.... What about? + +KARENIN. Je viens de chez vous. Votre femme ma charge de cette lettre, +et puis-- + + [FEDYA takes the letter, opens it, reads. He frowns, then smiles + affectionately at KARENIN. + +FEDYA. You know what's in this letter, Victor? + + [He is smiling gently all the time. + +KARENIN (looking at FEDYA rather severely). Yes, I know. But really, +Fedya, you're in no-- + +FEDYA (interrupting). Please, please don't think I'm drunk and don't +realize what I'm saying. Of course I'm drunk, but I see everything +very clearly. Now go ahead. What were you told to tell me? + +KARENIN (is standing L. C. Shrugging his shoulders). Your wife asked +me to find you and to tell you she's waiting for you. She wants you to +forget everything and come back. + + [Pause. + +KARENIN (stiffly). Elizaveta Protosova sent for me and suggested that +I-- + +FEDYA (as he hesitates). Yes. + +KARENIN (finishing rather lamely). But I ask you not so much for her +as for myself--Fedya, come home. + +FEDYA (looking up at him, smiling rather whimsically). You're a much +finer person than I am, Victor. Of course that's not saying much. I'm +not very much good, am I? (Laughing gently.) But that's exactly why +I'm not going to do what you want me to. It's not the only reason, +though. The real reason is that I just simply can't. How could I? + +KARENIN (persuasively). Come along to my rooms, Fedya, and I'll tell +her you'll be back to-morrow. + +FEDYA (wistfully). To-morrows can't change what we are. She'll still +be she, and I will still be I to-morrow. (Goes to the table and +drinks.) No, it's better to have the tooth out in one pull. Didn't I +say that if I broke my word she was to leave me? Well, I've broken it, +and that's enough. + +KARENIN. Yes. For you, but not for her. + +FEDYA (down L. Politely insolent). You know ... it's rather odd, that +you, of all men, should take so much trouble to keep our marriage from +going to pieces. + +KARENIN (revolted). Good God, Fedya! You don't think-- + + [MASHA crosses L., goes to FEDYA. FEDYA interrupting him with a + return of his former friendliness. + +FEDYA. Come now, my dear Victor, you shall hear them sing. + +MASHA (whispering to FEDYA). What's his name? We must honor him with a +song. + +FEDYA (laughing). O good God, yes! Honor him by all means. His name is +Victor Michaelovitch. (Saluting Karenin.) Victor, my lord! son of +Michael! + + [The gypsies sing a song of greeting and laudation. As they begin + to sing, MASHA and FEDYA sit on couch L. + +(When song is finished.) + +KARENIN (in an imploring tone). Fedya! + + [Exits quietly L. U. + +FEDYA (business with MASHA). Where's the fur coat? Gone, eh? All +right. May the devil go with it. + +FEDYA. Do you know who that was? + +MASHA. I heard his name. + +FEDYA. Ah, he's a splendid fellow. He came to take me home to my wife. +You see she loves even a fool like me, (caressing her hair) and look +what I'm doing. + +MASHA. You should go back to her and be very sorry. + +FEDYA. Do you think I should? (He kisses her.) Well, I think I +shouldn't. + +MASHA. Of course, you needn't go back to her if you don't love her. +Love is all that counts. + +FEDYA (smiling). How do you know that? + +MASHA (looking at him timidly). I don't know, but I do. + +FEDYA. Now, let's have "No More at Evening." (As the gypsies sing, +MASHA lies on her back across his lap, looking up into his face, which +she draws down to her, and they kiss until the music begins to cease.) +That's wonderful! Divine! If I could only lie this way forever, with +my arms around the heart of joy, and sleep ... and die.... (He closes +his eyes; his voice trails away.) + + [Lights dim and out, then the + +CURTAIN + + + +SCENE III + +SOPHIA KARENINA'S boudoir. SOPHIA KARENINA, VICTOR'S mother, is +reading a book. She is a great lady, over fifty, but tries to look +younger. She likes to interlard her conversation with French words. A +servant enters. + +SERVANT (enters R., announcing). Prince Sergius Abreskov. + +SOPHIA KARENINA (on sofa over L.). Show him in, please. + + [She turns and picks up hand mirror from table back of couch, + arranging her hair. + +PRINCE SERGIUS (enters R. I. Entering). J'espere que je ne force pas +la consigne. + + [Crossing to sofa L. He kisses her hand. He is a charming old + diplomat of seventy. + +SOPHIA KARENINA. Ah, you know well que vous etes toujours le bien +venu.... Tell me, you have received my letter? + +PRINCE SERGIUS. I did. Me voila. (Sits L. on sofa L.) Sophia Karenina +(working up to distress). Oh, my dear friend, I begin to lose hope. +She's bewitched him, positively bewitched him. Il est ensorcele. I +never knew he could be so obstinate, so heartless, and so indifferent +to me. He's changed completely since that woman left her husband. + +PRINCE SERGIUS. How do matters actually stand? + +SOPHIA KARENINA. Well, he's made up his mind to marry her at any cost. + +PRINCE SERGIUS. And her husband? + +SOPHIA KARENINA. He agrees to a divorce. + +PRINCE SERGIUS. Really? + +SOPHIA KARENINA. And Victor is willing to put up with all the +sordidness, the vulgarity of the divorce court, the lawyers, evidences +of guilt ... tout ca est degoutant. I can't understand his sensitive +nature not being repelled by it. + +PRINCE SERGIUS (smiling). He's in love, and when a man's really in +love-- + +SOPHIA KARENINA (interrupting). In our time love could remain pure, +coloring one's whole life with a romantic friendship. Such love I +understand and value. + +PRINCE SERGIUS (sighing). However, the present generation refuses to +live on dreams. (He coughs delicately.) La possession de l'ame ne leur +suffit plus. So what is the alternative? But tell me more of Victor. + +SOPHIA KARENINA. There's not very much to say. He seems bewitched, +hardly my son. Did you know I'd called upon her? Victor pressed me so +it was impossible to refuse. But Dieu merci, I found her out. So I +merely left my card, and now she has asked me if I could receive her +to-day, and I am expecting her (she glances at her watch) any moment +now. I am doing all this to please Victor, but conceive my feelings. I +know you always can. Really, really, I need your help. + +PRINCE SERGIUS (bowing). Thank you for the honor you do me. + +SOPHIA KARENINA. You realize this visit decides Victor's fate. I must +refuse my consent, or---- But that's impossible. + +PRINCE SERGIUS. Have you met her? + +SOPHIA KARENINA. I've never seen her, but I'm afraid of her. No good +woman leaves her husband, especially when there's nothing obviously +intolerable about him. Why, I've seen Protosov often with Victor, and +found him even quite charming. + +PRINCE SERGIUS (murmurs). So I've heard. So I've heard. + +SOPHIA KARENINA (continuing). She should bear her cross without +complaint. And Victor must cease trying to persuade himself that his +happiness lies in defying his principles. What I don't understand is +how Victor, with his religious views, can think of marrying a divorced +woman. I've heard him say over and over again--once quite lately-- +that divorce is totally inconsistent with true Christianity. If she's +been able to fascinate him to that point, I am afraid of her.--But how +stupid of me to talk all the time! Have you spoken to him at all? What +does he say? And don't you thoroughly agree with me? + +PRINCE SERGIUS. Yes, I've spoken to Victor. I think he really loves +her, has grown accustomed to the idea of loving her, pour ainsi dire. +(Shaking his head.) I don't believe he could ever now care for another +woman. + +SOPHIA KARENINA (sighing). And Varia Casanzeva would have made him +such a charming wife. She's so devoted already. + +PRINCE SERGIUS (smiling). I am afraid I hardly see her in the present +... tableau. (Earnestly.) Why not submit to Victor's wish and help +him? + +SOPHIA KARENINA. To marry a divorcee? And afterwards have him running +into his wife's husband? How can you calmly suggest that a mother +accept such a situation for her son? + +PRINCE SERGIUS. But, chere amie, why not approve of the inevitable? +And you might console yourself by regarding the dangers he'll avoid by +marrying this gentle, lovely woman. After all, suppose he conceived a +passion for some one---- + + [Convey the word "disreputable". + +SOPHIA KARENINA. How can a good woman leave her husband? + +PRINCE SERGIUS. Ah, that's not like you. You're unkind and you're +harsh. Her husband is the sort of man--well, he's his own worst enemy. +A weakling, a ne'er-do-well--he's spent all his money and hers too. +She has a child. Do you think you can condemn her for leaving him? As +a matter of fact she didn't leave him, he left her. + +SOPHIA KARENINA (faintly). Oh what a mud-pen I'm slipping into! + +PRINCE SERGIUS (amused). Could your religion aid you? + +SOPHIA KARENINA (smelling her salts). In this instance, religion would +require of me the impossible. C'est plus fort que moi. + +PRINCE SERGIUS. Fedya himself--you know what a charming clever +creature he is when he's in his senses--he advised her to leave him. + + [Enter VICTOR who kisses his mother's hand and greets PRINCE SERGIUS. + +KARENIN. Ah, Prince Sergius! (Shakes hands with Prince--formally.) +Maman, I've come to tell you that Elizaveta Protosova will be here +directly. There's only one thing I ask you: do you still refuse your +consent to my marriage---- + +SOPHIA KARENINA (interrupting). And I most assuredly do. + +KARENIN (continuing. Frowning). In that case all I ask is for you not +to speak to her about it. + +SOPHIA KARENINA. I don't suppose we shall even mention the subject. I +certainly shan't. + +KARENIN (standing at head of sofa L.). If you don't, she won't. +(Pleadingly.) Mother dear, I just want you to know her. + +SOPHIA KARENINA. One thing I can't understand. How is it you want to +marry Lisa Protosova, a woman with a living husband, and at the same +time believe divorce is a crime against Christianity? + +KARENIN. Oh, Maman, that's cruel of you. Life is far too complex to be +managed by a few formulas. Why are you so bitter about it all? + +SOPHIA KARENINA (honestly). I love you. I want you to be happy. + +KARENIN (imploringly to PRINCE SERGIUS) Sergius Abreskov! + +PRINCE SERGIUS (to SOPHIA KARENINA). Naturally you want him happy. But +it's difficult for our hearts, wearied from the weight of years, to +feel the pulse of youth and sympathize, especially is it difficult for +you, my friend, who have schooled yourself to view Victor's happiness +in a single way.... + +SOPHIA KARENINA. Oh, you're all against me. Do as you like. Vous etes +majeur. (Sniffing into her pocket handkerchief.) But you'll kill me. + +KARENIN (deeply distressed). Ah, Mother, please. It's worse than cruel +to say things like that. + +PRINCE SERGIUS (smiling to VICTOR). Come, come, Victor, you know your +mother speaks more severely than she could ever act. + +SOPHIA KARENINA. I shall tell her exactly what I think and feel, and I +hope I can do it without offending her. + +PRINCE SERGIUS. I am sure of it. + + [Enter FOOTMAN. + +Here she is. + +KARENIN. I'll go. (Goes to back of sofa.) + +FOOTMAN (announcing). Elizaveta Andreyevna Protosova. + +KARENIN (warningly). Now, Mother. + + [He goes out L. PRINCE SERGIUS rises. + +SOPHIA KARENINA (majestically). Show her in. (To PRINCE SERGIUS.) +Please remain. + +PRINCE SERGIUS. I thought you might prefer a tete-a-tete? + +SOPHIA KARENINA. No, no. I rather dread it. And if I want to be left +alone in the room with her, I'll drop my handkerchief. Ca dependra. + +PRINCE SERGIUS. I'm sure you're going to like her immensely. + +SOPHIA KARENINA. Oh you're all against me. + + [Enter LISA R. and crosses to R. C. + +(Rising) How do you do? I was so sorry not to find you at home and it +is most kind of you to come to see me. + +LISA (R.C.). I never expected the honor of your visit, and I am so +grateful that you permit me to come and see you. + +SOPHIA KARENINA (C.). You know Prince Sergius Abreskov? + +PRINCE SERGIUS (L.--Heartily). Yes, I have had the pleasure. (Crossing +to her, he shakes hands.) My niece Nellie has spoken often of you to +me. + + [Goes to L.C. + +LISA. Yes, we were great friends. (She glances shyly around her.) And +still are. (To SOPHIA.) I never hoped that you would wish to see me. + +SOPHIA KARENINA. I knew your husband quite well. He was a great friend +of Victor's and used frequently to visit us in Tambov, (politely) +where you were married, I believe. + +LISA (looking down). Yes. + +SOPHIA KARENINA. But when you returned to Moscow we were deprived of +the pleasure of his visit. + +LISA. Yes, then he stopped going anywhere. + +SOPHIA KARENINA. Ah, that explains our missing him. + + [Awkward pause. + +PRINCE SERGIUS (to LISA). The last time I'd the pleasure of seeing you +was in those tableaux at the Dennishovs. You were charming in your +part. + +LISA. How good of you to think so! Yes, I remember perfectly. + + [Another awkward silence. + +(To SOPHIA KARENINA.) Sophia Karenina, please forgive me if what I am +going to say offends you, but I don't know how to cover up what's in +my heart. I came here to-day because Victor Karenin said--because he +said that--because he--I mean because you wanted to see me. (With a +catch in her voice.) It's rather difficult--but you're so sweet. + +PRINCE SERGIUS (very sympathetic). There, there, my dear child, I +assure you there's nothing in the world to---- (He breaks off when he +sees SOPHIA KARENINA pointing impatiently to the floor. She has +dropped her handkerchief.) Permit me. (He picks it up, presenting it +to her with a smile and a bow; then looks casually at his watch.) Ah, +five o'clock already. (To SOPHIA KARENINA.) Madame, in your salon +pleasure destroys the memory of time. You will excuse me. + + [He kisses her hand. + +SOPHIA KARENINA (smiling). Au revoir, mon ami. + +PRINCE SERGIUS (bowing and shaking hands with LISA). Elizaveta +Protosova, au revoir. + + [He goes out R. + +SOPHIA KARENINA. Now listen, my child. Please believe how truly sorry +for you I am and that you are most sympathetique to me. But I love my +son alone in this world, and I know his soul as I do my own. He's very +proud--oh I don't mean of his position and money--but of his high +ideals, his purity. It may sound strange to you, but you must believe +me when I tell you that at heart he is as pure as a young girl. + +LISA. I know. + +SOPHIA KARENINA. He's never loved a woman before. You're the first. I +don't say I'm not a little jealous. I am. But that's something we +mothers have to face. Oh, but your son's still a baby, you don't know. +I was ready to give him up, though--but I wanted his wife to be as +pure as himself. + +LISA (flushing hotly). And I, am I not---- + +SOPHIA KARENINA (interrupting her kindly). Forgive me, my dear. I know +it's not your fault and that you've been most unhappy. And also I know +my son. He will bear anything, and he'll bear it without saying a +word, but his hurt pride will suffer and bring you infinite remorse. +You must know how strongly he has always felt that the bond of +marriage is indissoluble. + +LISA. Yes. I've thought of all that. + +SOPHIA KARENINA. Lisa, my dear, you're a wise woman and you're a good +woman too. If you love him, you must want his happiness more than you +want your own. You can't want to cripple him so that he'll be sorry +all his life--yes, sorry even though he never says a word. + +LISA. I've thought about it so much. I've thought about it and I've +talked to him about it. But what can I do when he says he can't live +without me? I said to him only the other day, "Victor, let's just be +friends. Don't spoil your life. Don't ruin yourself by trying to help +me." And do you know what he did? He laughed. + +SOPHIA KARENINA. Of course he would, at the time. + +LISA. If you could persuade him not to marry me, you know I'll agree, +don't you? I just want him to be happy. I don't care about myself. +Only please help me. Please don't hate me. Let's do all we can for +him, because, after all, we both love him. + +SOPHIA KARENINA. Yes, I know. And I think I love you too. I really do. +(She kisses her. LISA begins to cry.) Oh, it's all so dreadful. If +only he had fallen in love with you before you were married! + +LISA (sobbing). He--he says he did--but he had to be loyal to his +friend. + +SOPHIA KARENINA. Alas, it's all very heart-breaking. But let us love +each other, and God will help us to find what we are seeking. + +KARENIN (entering L. I). Mother darling. I've heard what you just +said. I knew you'd love her. And now everything must come right. + +SOPHIA KARENINA (hastily). But nothing's decided. All I can say is, +had things been different, I should have been very glad. (Tenderly.) +So very glad. + + [She kisses LISA. + +KARENIN (smiling). Please don't change. That's all I ask. + + [Lights down and out. + +CURTAIN + + + +SCENE IV + +A plainly furnished room, bed, table and stove. FEDYA alone writing. + +At rise MASHA is heard outside calling "FEDYA! FEDYA!" MASHA enters R. +I, crosses to FEDYA on bed C. and embraces him. + +FEDYA. Ah, thank Heaven you've come. I was wasting away in boredom. + +MASHA. Then why didn't you come over to us? (Sees wine glass on chair +near bed.) So, you've been drinking again? And after all your +promises! + +FEDYA (embarrassed). I didn't come over because I had no money. + +MASHA. Oh, why is it I love you so. + +FEDYA. Masha! + +MASHA (imitating him). Masha! Masha! What's that mean? If you loved +me, by now you'd have your divorce. You say you don't love your wife. +(FEDYA winces.) But you stick to her like grim death. + +FEDYA (interrupting her). You know why I don't want to. + +MASHA. Nonsense. They're right when they say you're no good. It's your +mind that you can never make up comfortably causing you all the worry. + +FEDYA. You know perfectly well that the only joy I've got in life is +being in love with you. + +MASHA. Oh, it's always "My joy," "Your love." Where's your love and my +joy? + +FEDYA (a little wearily). Well, Masha, after all, you've got all I can +give, the best I've ever had to give, perhaps, because you're so +strong, so beautiful, that sometimes you've made me know how to make +you glad. So why torture yourself? + +MASHA (kneels and puts her arms around his neck). I won't if you're +sure you love me. + +FEDYA (coming closer to her). My beautiful young Masha. + +MASHA (tearfully, searching his face). You do love me? + +FEDYA. Of course, of course. + +MASHA. Only me, only me? + +FEDYA (kissing her). Darling, only you. + +MASHA (with a return to brightness). Now read me what you've written. + +FEDYA. It may bore you. + +MASHA (reproachfully). How could it? + +FEDYA (reads). + + "The snow was flooded in moonlight and the birch trees wavered + their stark shadows across it like supplicating arms. Suddenly + I heard the soft padded sound of snow falling upon snow, to + slowly perceive a figure, the slender figure of a young child + attempting to arouse itself almost at my feet--I----" + + [Enter IVAN and NASTASIA. They are two old gypsies, MASHA'S + parents. + +NASTASIA (stepping up to MASHA). So here you are--you cursed little +stray sheep. No disrespect to you, sir. (To MASHA.) You black-hearted, +ungrateful little snake. How dare you treat us like this, how dare +you, eh? + +Ivan (to FEDYA). It's not right, sir, what you've done, bringing to +her ruin our only child. It's against God's law. + +NASTASIA (to MASHA). Come and get out of here with me. You thought +you'd skip, didn't you? And what was I supposed to tell the troupe +while you dangled around here with this tramp? What can you get out of +him, tell me that? Did you know he hasn't got a kopek to his name, +didn't you? + + [During scene with parents, FEDYA sits dumbly on the bed, bewildered. +He puts his forehead against MASHA'S face and clings to her like a +child. + +MASHA (sullenly). I haven't done anything wrong. I love this +gentleman, that's all. I didn't leave the troupe either. I'll go on +singing just the same. + +Ivan. If you talk any more, I'll pull your hair all out for you, you +loose little beast, you. (To FEDYA, reproachfully.) And you, sir, when +we were so fond of you--why, often and often we used to sing for you +for nothing and this is how you pay us back. + +NASTASIA (rocking herself to and fro). You've ruined our daughter, our +very own, our only one, our best beloved, our diamond, our precious +one, (with sudden fury). You've stamped her into the dirt, you have. +Where's your fear of God? + +FEDYA. Nastasia, Nastasia, you've made a mistake. Your daughter is +like a sister to me. I haven't harmed her at all. I love her, that's +true. But how can I help it? + +IVAN. Well, why didn't you love her when you had some money? If you'd +paid us ten thousand rubles, you could have owned her, body and soul. +That's what respectable gentlemen do. But you--you throw away every +kopek you've got and then you steal her like you'd steal a sack of +meal. You ought to be ashamed, sir. + +MASHA (rising, puts her arm around his neck). He didn't steal me. I +went to him myself, and if you take me away now, I'll come right back. +If you take me away a thousand times, I'll come back to him. I love +him and that's enough. My love will break through anything--through +anything. Through anything in the whole damn world. + +NASTASIA (trying to soothe her). Now, Mashenka darling, don't get +cross. You know you haven't behaved well to your poor old parents. +There, there, come along with us now. + + [With greedy fingers that pretend to caress, NASTASIA seizes her + savagely and suddenly at the end of this speech and draws her to + the door. MASHA cries out "FEDYA! FEDYA!" as she exits R. + +IVAN (alongside). You open your mouth again and I'll smash you dumb. +(To FEDYA.) Good-bye, your worship. + + [All exit R. I. + + [FEDYA sits as though stupefied. The gypsies exit noisily. There + is a pause. He drinks; then PRINCE SERGIUS appears, very quiet + and dignified, at the door. + +PRINCE. Excuse me. I'm afraid I'm intruding upon a rather painful +scene. + +FEDYA (getting up). With whom have I the honor---- (recognizing the +Prince). Ah, Prince Sergius, how do you do? + + [They shake hands. + +PRINCE (in a distinguished manner). I repeat that I am afraid to be +most inopportune. I would rather not have heard, but since I have, +it's my duty to say so. When I arrived I knocked several times, but I +presume you could not have heard through such uproar. + +FEDYA. Do sit down. (PRINCE sits chair R.C.) Thanks for telling me you +heard. (Sits on bed up C.) It gives me a chance to explain it all. +Forgive me for saying your opinion of me can't concern me, but I want +to tell you that the way her parents talked to that young girl, that +gypsy singer, was absolutely unjust. She's as pure as your own mother. +My relations with her are simply friendly ones. Possibly there is a +ray of poetry in them, but that could hardly degrade her. However, +what can I do for you? + +PRINCE SERGIUS. Well, to begin---- + +FEDYA (interrupting). Excuse me, Prince, but my present social +position hardly warrants a visit from you. + + [Smiling. + +PRINCE SERGIUS. I know that, but I ask you to believe that your +changed position does not influence me in what I am about to tell you. + +FEDYA (interrogatively). Then? + +PRINCE SERGIUS. To be as brief as possible, Victor Karenin, the son of +my old friend, Sophia Karenina, and she herself, have asked me to +discover from you personally what your present relations are with your +wife, and what intentions you have regarding them. + +FEDYA. My relations with my wife--I should say my former wife--are +several. + +PRINCE SERGIUS. As I thought, and for this reason accepted my somewhat +difficult mission. + +FEDYA (quickly). I wish to say first of all that the fault was +entirely mine. She is, just as she always was, absolutely stainless, +faultless. + +PRINCE SERGIUS. Victor Karenin and especially his mother are anxious +to know your exact intentions regarding the future. + +FEDYA. I've got no intentions. I've given her full freedom. I know she +loves Victor Karenin, let her. Personally, I think he is a bore, but +he is a good bore. So they'll probably be very happy together, at +least in the ordinary sense and que le bon Dieu les benisse. + +PRINCE SERGIUS. Yes, but we---- + +FEDYA (rising, goes L., leans on table). Please don't think I'm +jealous. If I just said Victor was dull, I take it back. He's +splendid, very decent, in fact the opposite of myself, and he's loved +her since her childhood (slowly) and maybe she loved him even when we +were married. After all, that happens, and the strongest love is +perhaps unconscious love. Yes, I think she's always loved him far, far +down beneath what she would admit to herself, and this feeling of nine +has been a black shadow across our married life. But--I--I really +don't suppose I ought to be talking to you like this, ought I? + +PRINCE SERGIUS. Please go on. My only object in coming was to +understand this situation completely, and I begin to see how the +shadow--as you charmingly express it--could have been---- + +FEDYA (looking strangely ahead of him). Yes, no brightness could suck +up that shadow. And so I suppose I never was satisfied with what my +wife gave me, and I looked for every kind of distraction, sick at +heart because I did so. I see it more and more clearly since we've +been apart. Oh, but I sound as if I were defending myself. God knows I +don't want to do that. No, I was a shocking bad husband. I say was, +because now I don't consider myself her husband at all. She's +perfectly free. There, does that satisfy you? + +PRINCE SERGIUS. Yes, but you know how strictly orthodox Victor and his +family are. Of course I don't agree with them--perhaps I have broader +views--(with a shrug) but I understand how they feel. They consider +that any union without a church marriage is--well, to put it mildly, +unthinkable. + +FEDYA. Yes, I know he's very stu--I mean strict. (With a slight +smile.) "Conservative" is the word, isn't it? But what in God's name +(crossing to C.) do they want, a divorce? I told them long ago I was +perfectly willing. But the business of hiring a street-woman and +taking her to a shady hotel and arranging to be caught by competent +witnesses--ugh--it's all so--so loathsome. + + [He shudders--pauses; and sits on bed. + +PRINCE SERGIUS. I know. I know. I assure you, I can sympathize with +such a repugnance, but how can one avoid it? You see, it's the only +way out. But, my dear boy, you mustn't think I don't sympathize with +you. It's a horrible situation for a sensitive man and I quite +understand how you must hate it. + +FEDYA. Thank you, Prince Sergius. I always knew you were kind and +just. Now tell me what to do. Put yourself in my place. I don't +pretend to be any better than I really am. I am a blackguard but there +are some things that even I can't do. (With a smile and helpless +gesture.) I can't tell lies. + + [A pause. + +PRINCE SERGIUS. I must confess that you bewilder me. You with your +gifts and charm and really au fond--a wonderful sense of what's right. +How could you have permitted yourself to plunge into such tawdry +distractions? How could you have forgotten so far what you owed to +yourself? Tell me, why did you let your life fall into this ruin? + +FEDYA (suppressing emotion). I've led this sort of life for ten years +and you're the first real person to show me sympathy. Of course, I've +been pitied by the degraded ones but never before by a sensible, kind +man like you. Thanks more than it's possible to say. (He seems to +forget his train of thought and suddenly to recall it.) Ah, yes, my +ruin. Well, first, drink, not because it tasted well, but because +everything I did disappointed me so, made me so ashamed of myself. I +feel ashamed now, while I talk to you. Whenever I drank, shame was +drowned in the first glass, and sadness. Then music, not opera or +Beethoven, but gypsy music; the passion of it poured energy into my +body, while those dark bewitching eyes looked into the bottom of my +soul. (He sighs.) And the more alluring it all was, the more shame I +felt afterwards. + + [Pause. + +PRINCE SERGIUS. But what about your career? + +FEDYA. My career? This seems to be it. Once I was a director of a +bank. There was something terribly lacking between what I felt and +what I could do. (Abruptly.) But enough, enough of myself. It makes me +rather nervous to think about myself. + + [Rises. + +PRINCE SERGIUS. What answer am I to take back? + +FEDYA (very nervous). Oh, tell them I'm quite at their disposal. +(Walking up and down) They want to marry, and there mustn't be +anything in their way (pause); is that it? (Stops walking very +suddenly. Repeats.) There mustn't be anything in their way--is that +it? + +PRINCE SERGIUS (pause. FEDYA sits on table L.). Yes. When do you--when +do you think--you'll--you'll have it ready? The evidence? + +FEDYA (turns and looks at the PRINCE, suppressing a slight, strained +smile). Will a fortnight do? + +PRINCE SERGIUS (rising). Yes, I am sure it will. (Rises and crosses to +FEDYA.) May I say that you give them your word? + +FEDYA (with some impatience). Yes. Yes. (PRINCE offers his hand.) +Good-bye, Prince Sergius. And again thanks. + + [Exit PRINCE SERGIUS, R. I. FEDYA sits down in an attitude of + deep thought. + +Why not? Why not? And it's good not to be ashamed---- + + [Lights dim and out. + +CURTAIN + + + +SCENE V + +Private room in a cheap restaurant. FEDYA is shown in by a shabby +waiter. + +WAITER. This way, sir. No one will disturb you here. Here's the +writing paper. + + [Starts to exit. + +FEDYA (as waiter starts to exit). Bring me a bottle of champagne. + +WAITER. Yes, sir. + + [Exits R. C. + + [FEDYA sits at table L. C., and begins to write. IVAN PETROVICH + appearing in the doorway R. C. + +IVAN PETROVICH. I'll come in, shall I? + +FEDYA (sitting L. of table L. C. Very serious). If you want to, but +I'm awfully busy, and--(seeing he has already entered) Oh, all right, +do come in. + +IVAN PETROVICH (C.). You're going to write an answer to their demand. +I'll help you. I'll tell you what to say Speak out. Say what you mean. +It's straight from the shoulder. That's my system. (Picks up box that +FEDYA has placed on table--opens it and takes out a revolver.) Hallo! +What's this? Going to shoot yourself. Of course, why not? I +understand. They want to humiliate you, and you show them where the +courage is--put a bullet through your head and heap coals of fire on +theirs. I understand perfectly. (The waiter enters with champagne on +tray, pours a glass for FEDYA, then exits. PETROVICH takes up the +glass of wine and starts to drink. FEDYA looks up from his writing.) I +understand everything and everybody, because I'm a genius. + +FEDYA. So you are, but---- + +IVAN PETROVICH (filling and lifting his glass). Here's to your +immortal journey. May it be swift and pleasant. Oh, I see it from your +point of view. So why should I stop you? Life and death are the same +to genius. I'm dead during life and I live after death. You kill +yourself in order to make a few people miss you, but I--but I--am +going to kill myself to make the whole world know what it lost. I +won't hesitate or think about it. I'll just take the revolver--one, +two--and all is over--um. But I am premature. My hour is not yet +struck. (He puts the revolver down.) But I shall write nothing. The +world will have to understand all by itself. (FEDYA continues to +write.) The world, what is it but a mass of preposterous creatures, +who crawl around through life, understanding nothing--nothing at all +--do you hear me? (FEDYA looks up, rather exasperated.) Oh, I'm not +talking to you. All this is between me and the cosmos. (Pours himself +out another drink.) After all, what does humanity most lack? +Appreciation for its geniuses. As it is, we're persecuted, tortured, +racked, through a lifetime of perpetual agony, into the asylum or the +grave. But no longer will I be their bauble. Humanity, hypocrite that +you are--to hell with you. + + [Drinks wine. + +FEDYA (having finished his letter). Oh, go away, please. + +IVAN PETROVICH. Away? (With a gesture.) Away? Me? (With profound +resolve.) So be it. (He leans over the table, faces FEDYA.) I shall +away. I'll not deter you from accomplishing what I also shall commit-- +all in its proper moment, however. Only I should like to say this---- + +FEDYA. Later. Later. But now, listen, old man, give this to the head +waiter. (Handing him some money.) You understand? + +IVAN PETROVICH. Yes, but for God's sake wait for me to come back. +(Moves away.) I've something rare to tell you, something you'll never +hear in the next world--at least not till I get there---- Look here, +shall I give him all this money? + +FEDYA. No, just what I owe him. + + [Exit IVAN PETROVICH, whistling. FEDYA sighs with a sense of + relief, takes the revolver, cocks it, stands at mirror on wall + up R., and puts it close to his temple. Then shivers, and lets + his hand drop. + +I can't do it. I can't do it. + + [Pause. MASHA is heard singing. MASHA bursts into the room. + +MASHA (breathless). I've been everywhere looking for you. To Popov's, +Afremov's, then I guessed you'd be here. (Crosses to him. Sees +revolver, turns, faces him quickly, concealing it with her body, +stands very tense and taut, looking at him.) Oh, you fool! You hideous +fool! Did you think you'd---- + +FEDYA (still completely unnerved). Awful! It's been awful! I tried---- +(With a gesture of despair.) I couldn't---- + + [Crosses to table L. C.--leans against it. + +MASHA (puts her hand to her face as if terribly hurt). As if I didn't +exist. (Crosses over to table L. C., puts down revolver.) As if I +weren't in your life at all. Oh, how godless you are! (Brokenly.) Tell +me, tell me, what about all my love for you? + +FEDYA (as if suddenly aware of a great fatigue). I wanted to set them +free. I promised to--and when the time came I couldn't. + +MASHA. And what about me? What about me? + +FEDYA. I thought you'd be free, too. Surely my torturing you can't +make you happy. + +MASHA. Oh, I can look out for myself. Maybe I'd rather be unhappy, +miserable, wretched with you every minute than even think of living +without you. + +FEDYA (up R.--half to himself). If I'd finished just now, you would +have cried bitterly perhaps, my Masha, but you would have lived past +it. + +MASHA. Oh, damn you, don't be so sure I'd cry at all. Can't you even +be sorry for me? + + [She tries to conceal her tears. + +FEDYA. Oh God, I only wanted to make everybody happier. + +MASHA. Yourself happier, you mean. + +FEDYA (smiling). Would I have been happier to be dead now? + +MASHA (sulkily). I suppose you would. (Suddenly in a tender voice, +crossing to him.) But, Fedya, do you know what you want? Tell me, what +do you want? + +FEDYA (R). I want so many things. + +MASHA (impatiently and clinging to him). But what? What? + +FEDYA. First of all, I want to set them free. How can I lie? How can I +crawl through the muck and filth of a divorce? I can't. (Moves to end +of table and stands there facing front.) But I must set them free +somehow. They're such good people, my wife and Victor. I can't bear +having them suffer. + +MASHA (R. of table L. C.--scornfully). Where's the good in her if she +left you? + +FEDYA. She didn't. I left her. + +MASHA. She made you think she'd be happier without you. But go on---- +(Impatiently.) Blame yourself, what else. + +FEDYA. There's you, Masha. Young, lovely, awfully dear to me. If I +stay alive, ah, where will you be? + +MASHA. Don't bother about me. You can't hurt me. + +FEDYA (sighing). But the big reason, the biggest reason of all, is +myself. I'm just lost. Your father is right, my dear. I'm no good. + +MASHA (crossing to him, at once tenderly and savagely). I won't +unfasten myself from you. I'll stick to you, no matter where you take +me, no matter what you do. You're alive, terribly alive, and I love +you. Fedya, drop all this horror. + +FEDYA. How can I? + +MASHA (trying to project the very essence of her vitality into him). +Oh, you can, you can. + +FEDYA (slowly). When I look at you, I feel as though I could do +anything. + +MASHA (proudly, fondly). My love, my love. You can do anything, get +anywhere you want to. (FEDYA moves away impatiently up R. She sees +letter.) So you have been writing to them--to tell them you'll kill +yourself. You just told them you'd kill yourself, is that it? But you +didn't say anything about a revolver. Oh, Fedya, let me think, there +must be some way. Fedya--listen to me. Do you remember the day we all +went to the picnic to the White Lakes with Mama and Afremov and the +young Cossack officer? And you buried the bottles of wine in the sand +to keep them cool while we went in bathing? Do you remember how you +took my hands and drew me out beyond the waves till the water was +quite silent and flashing almost up to our throats, and then suddenly +it seemed as if there were nothing under our feet? We tried to get +back. We couldn't and you shouted out, "Afremov," and if he hadn't +been almost beside us and pulled us in--and how cross he was with you +for forgetting that you couldn't swim, and after, how wonderful it was +to stretch out safely on the sands in the sunlight. Oh, how nice every +one was to us that day and you kept on being so sorry for forgetting +you couldn't swim! And, Fedya, don't you see? Of course, she must know +you can't swim. Oh, it's all getting as clear as daylight. You will +send her this beautiful letter. Your clothes will be found on the +river bank--but instead of being in the river you will be far away +with me--Fedya, don't you see, don't you see? You will be dead to her, +but alive for me. (Embraces FEDYA.) + + [The lights down and out. + +CURTAIN + + + +SCENE VI + +The PROTOSOVS' drawing-room. + +KARENIN and LISA. + +KARENIN (sitting chair R.). He's promised me +definitely, and I'm sure he'll keep to it. + +LISA (sitting chair R. C.). I'm rather ashamed to confess it, Victor, +but since I found out about this--this gypsy, I feel completely free +of him. Of course, I am not in the least jealous, but knowing this +makes me see that I owe him nothing more. Am I clear to you, I wonder? + +KARENIN (coming closer to her). Yes, dear, I think I'll always +understand you. + +LISA (smiling). Don't interrupt me, but let me speak as I think. The +thing that tortured me most was I seemed to love both of you at once, +and that made me seem so indecent to myself. + +KARENIN (incredulously amused). You indecent? + +LISA (continuing). But since I've found out that there's another +woman, that he doesn't need me any more, I feel free, quite free of +him. And now I can say truthfully, I love you. Because everything is +clear in my soul. My only worry is the divorce, and all the waiting to +be gone through before we can---- Ah, that's torturing. + +KARENIN. Dearest, everything will be settled soon. After all, he's +promised, and I've asked my secretary to go to him with the petition +and not to leave until he's signed it. Really, sometimes, if I didn't +know him as I do, I'd think he was trying on purpose to discomfort us. + +LISA. No. No. It's, only the same weakness and honesty fighting +together in him. He doesn't want to lie. However, I'm sorry you sent +him money. + +KARENIN. If I hadn't, it might have delayed things. Lisa. I know, but +money seems so ugly. + +KARENIN (slightly ruffled). I hardly think it's necessary to be so +delicate with Fedya. + +LISA. Perhaps, perhaps. (Smiling.) But don't you think we are becoming +very selfish? + +KARENIN. Maybe. But it's all your fault, dear. After all, this +hopelessness and waiting, to think of being happy at last! I suppose +happiness does make us selfish. + +LISA. Don't believe you're alone in your happiness or selfishness. I +am so filled with joy it makes me almost afraid. Misha's all right, +your mother loves me, and above all, you are here, close to me, loving +me as I love you. + +KARENIN (bending over her and searching her eyes). You're sure you've +no regret? + +LISA. From the day I found out about that gypsy woman, my mind +underwent a change that has set me free. + +KARENIN. You're sure? + + [Kissing her hands. + +LISA (passionately). Darling, I've only one desire now, and that is to +have you forget the past and love as I do. + + [Her little boy toddles in R., sees them and stops. + + [To the child. + +Come here, my sweetheart. + + [He goes to her and she takes him on her knees. + +KARENIN. What strange contradictory instincts and desires make up our +beings! + +LISA. Why? + +KARENIN (slowly). I don't know. When I came back from abroad, knew I'd +lost you, I was unhappy, terribly. Yet, it was enough for me to learn +that you at least remembered me. Afterward, when we became friends, +and you were kind to me, and into our friendship wavered a spark of +something more than friendship, ah, I was almost happy! Only one thing +tormented me: fear that such a feeling wronged Fedya. Afterwards, when +Fedya tortured you so, I saw I could help. Then a certain definite +hope sprang up in me. And later, when he became impossible and you +decided to leave him, and I showed you my heart for the first time, +and you didn't say no, but went away in tears--then I was happy through +and through. Then came the possibility of joining our lives. Mamma +loved you. You told me you loved me, that Fedya was gone out of your +heart, out of your life forever, and there was only, only me.... Ah, +Lisa, for what more could I ask! Yet the past tortured me. Awful +fancies would flush up into my happiness, turning it all into hatred +for your past. + +LISA (interrupting reproachfully). Victor! + +KARENIN. Forgive me, Lisa. I only tell you this because I don't want +to hide a single thought from you. I want you to know how bad I am, +and what a weakness I've got to fight down. But don't worry, I'll get +past it. It's all right, dear. (He bends over, kissing the child on +the head.) And I love him, too. + +LISA. Dearest, I'm so happy. Everything has happened in my heart to +make it as you'd wish. + +KARENIN. All? + +LISA. All, beloved, or I never could say so. + + [Enter the NURSE L. U. + +NURSE. Your secretary has come back. + + [LISA and KARENIN exchange glances. + +LISA. Show him in here, nurse, and take Misha, will you? + +NURSE. Come along, my pet. It's time for your rest. + + [Exit NURSE with the little boy, R. + +KARENIN (gets up, walks to the door). This will be Fedya's answer. + +LISA (kissing Karenin). At last, at last we shall know when. (She +kisses him.) + + [Enter VOZNESENSKY L. U. + +KARENIN. Well? + +SECRETARY. He's not there, sir. + +KARENIN. Not there? He's not signed the petition, then? + +SECRETARY. No. But here is a letter addressed to you and Elizaveta +Protosova. + + [Takes letter from his pocket and gives it to KARENIN. + +KARENIN (interrupting angrily). More excuses, more excuses. It's +perfectly outrageous. How without conscience he is. Really, he has +lost every claim to---- + +LISA. But read the letter, dear; see what he says. + + [KARENIN opens the letter. + +SECRETARY. Shall you need me, sir? + +Karenin. No. That's all. Thank you. + + [Exit SECRETARY. KARENIN reads the letter growing astonishment + and concern. LISA watches his face. + +(Reading.) + + "Lisa, Victor, I write you both without using terms of + endearment, since I can't feel them, nor can I conquer a sense + of bitterness and reproach, self-reproach principally, when I + think of you together in your love. I know, in spite of being + the husband, I was also the barrier, preventing you from coming + earlier to one another. C'est moi qui suis l'intrue. I stood in + your way, I worried you to death. Yet I can't help feeling + bitterly, coldly, toward you. In one way I love both of you, + especially Lisa Lizenska, but in reality I am more than cold + toward you. Yes, it's unjust, isn't it, but to change is + impossible." + +LISA. What's all that for? + +KARENIN (standing L. of table C., continuing). + + "However, to the point. I am going to fulfill your wishes in + perhaps a little different way from what you desire. To lie, to + act a degrading comedy, to bribe women of the streets for + evidence--the ugliness of it all disgusts me. I am a bad man, + but this despicable thing I am utterly unable to do. My solution + is after all the simplest. You must marry to be happy. I am the + obstacle, consequently that obstacle must be removed." + +LISA (R. of table). Victor! + +KARENIN (reading). Must be removed? "By the time this letter reaches +you, I shall no longer exist. All I ask you is to be happy, and +whenever you think of me, think tender thoughts. God bless you both. +Good-bye. FEDYA." + +LISA. He's killed himself! + +KARENIN (going hurriedly up stage L. and calls of). My secretary! Call +back my secretary! + +LISA. Fedya! Fedya, darling! + +KARENIN. Lisa! + +LISA. It's not true! It's not true that I've stopped loving him! He's +the only man in all the world I love! And now I've killed him! I've +killed him as surely as if I'd murdered him with my own two hands! + +KARENIN. Lisa, for God's sake! + +LISA. Stop it! Don't come near me! Don't be angry with me, Victor. You +see I, too, cannot lie! + +CURTAIN + + + + +ACT II + +SCENE I + +A dirty, ill-lighted underground dive; people are lying around +drinking, sleeping, playing cards and making love. Near the front a +small table at which FEDYA sits; he is in rags and has fallen very +low. By his side is PETUSHKOV, a delicate spiritual man, with long +yellow hair and beard. Both are rather drunk. + +Candle light is the only lighting in this Scene. + +PETUSHKOV (R.C. of table C.). I know. I know. Well, that's real love. +So what happened then? + +FEDYA (L. C. of table C., pensively). You might perhaps expect a girl +of our own class, tenderly brought up, to be capable of sacrificing +for the man she loved, but this girl was a gypsy, reared in greed, yet +she gave me the purest sort of self-sacrificing love. She'd have done +anything for nothing. Such contrasts are amazing. + +PETUSHKOV. I see. In painting we call that value. Only to realize +bright red fully when there is green around it. But that's not the +point. What happened? + +FEDYA. Oh, we parted. I felt it wasn't right to go on taking, taking +where I couldn't give. So one night we were having dinner in a little +restaurant, I told her we'd have to say good-bye. My heart was so +wrung all the time I could hardly help crying. + +PETUSHKOV. And she? + +FEDYA. Oh, she was awfully unhappy, but she knew I was right. So we +kissed each other a long while, and she went back to her gypsy troupe +--(Slowly.) Maybe she was glad to go---- + + [A pause. + +PETUSHKOV. I wonder. + +FEDYA. Yes. The single good act of my soul was not ruining that girl. + +PETUSHKOV. Was it from pity? + +FEDYA. I sorry for her? Oh, never. Quite the contrary. I worshipped +her unclouded sincerity, the energy of her clear, strong will, and God +in Heaven, how she sang. And probably she is singing now, for some one +else. Yes, I always looked up at her from beneath, as you do at some +radiance in the sky. I loved her really. And now it's a tender +beautiful memory. + +PETUSHKOV. I understand. It was ideal, and you left it like that. + +FEDYA (ruminatingly). And I've been attracted often, you know. Once I +was in love with a grande dame, bestially in love, dog-like. Well, +she gave me a rendezvous, and I didn't, couldn't, keep it, because +suddenly I thought of her husband, and it made me feel sick. And you +know, it's queer, that now, when I look back, instead of being glad +that I was decent, I am as sorry as if I had sinned. But with Masha +it's so different; I'm filled with joy that I've never soiled the +brightness of my feeling for her. (He points his finger at the floor.) +I may go much further down. + +PETUSHKOV (interrupting). I know so well what you mean. But where is +she now? + +FEDYA. I don't know. I don't want to know. All that belongs to another +life, and I couldn't bear to mix that life and this life. + + [A POLICE OFFICER enters from up R., kicks a man who is lying on + the floor--walks down stage, looks at FEDYA and PETUSHKOV, then + exits. + +PETUSHKOV. Your life's wonderful. I believe you're a real idealist. + +FEDYA. No. It's awfully simple. You know among our class--I mean the +class I was born in--there are only three courses: the first, to go +into the civil service or join the army and make money to squander +over your sensual appetites. And all that was appalling to me--perhaps +because I couldn't do it. The second thing is to live to clear out, to +destroy what is foul, to make way for the beautiful. But for that +you've got to be a hero, and I'm not a hero. And the third is to +forget it all--overwhelm it with music, drown it with wine. That's +what I did. And look (he spreads his arms out) where my singing led me +to. + + [He drinks. + +PETUSHKOV. And what about family life? The sanctity of the home and +all that--I would have been awfully happy if I'd had a decent wife. As +it was, she ruined me. + +FEDYA. I beg your pardon. Did you say marriage? Oh, yes, of course. +Well, I've been married, too. Oh, my wife was quite an ideal woman. I +don't know why I should say was, by the way, because she's still +living. But there's something--I don't know; it's rather difficult to +explain--But you know how pouring champagne into a glass makes it +froth up into a million iridescent little bubbles? Well, there was +none of that in our married life. There was no fizz in it, no sparkle, +no taste, phew! The days were all one color--flat and stale and gray +as the devil. And that's why I wanted to get away and forget. You +can't forget unless you play. So trying to play I crawled in every +sort of muck there is. And you know, it's a funny thing, but we love +people for the good we do them, and we hate them for the harm. That's +why I hated Lisa. That's why she seemed to love me. + +PETUSHKOV. Why do you say seemed? + +FEDYA (wistfully). Oh, she couldn't creep into the center of my being +like Masha. But that's not what I mean. Before the baby was born, and +afterwards, when she was nursing him, I used to stay away for days and +days, and come back drunk, drunk, and love her less and less each +time, because I was wronging her so terribly. (Excitedly.) Yes. That's +it, I never realized it before. The reason why I loved Masha was +because I did her good, not harm. But I crucified my wife, and her +contortions filled me almost with hatred. + + [FEDYA drinks. + +PETUSHKOV. I think I understand. Now in my case---- + + [ARTIMIEV enters R. U., approaches with a cockade on his cap, + dyed mustache, and shabby, but carefully mended clothes. + +ARTIMIEV (stands L. of table). Good appetite, gentlemen! (Bowing to +FEDYA.) I see you've made the acquaintance of our great artist. + +FEDYA (coolly). Yes, I have. + +ARTIMIEV (to PETUSHKOV). Have you finished your portrait? + +PETUSHKOV. No, they didn't give me the commission, after all. + +ARTIMIEV (sitting down on end of table). I'm not in your way, am I? + + [FEDYA and PETUSHKOV don't answer. + +PETUSHKOV. This gentleman was telling me about his life. + +ARTIMIEV. Oh, secrets? Then I won't disturb you. Pardon me for +interrupting. (To himself as he moves away.) Damn swine! + + [He goes to the next table, sits down and in the dim candlelight + he can just be seen listening to the conversation. + +FEDYA. I don't like that man. + +PETUSHKOV. I think he's offended. + +FEDYA. Let him be. I can't stand him. If he'd stayed I shouldn't have +said a word. Now, it's different with you. You make me feel all +comfortable, you know. Well, what was I saying? + +PETUSHKOV. You were talking about your wife. How did you happen to +separate? + +FEDYA. Oh, that? (A pause.) It's a rather curious story. My wife's +married. + +PETUSHKOV. Oh, I see! You're divorced. + +FEDYA. No. (Smiling.) She's a widow. + +PETUSHKOV. A widow? What do you mean? + +FEDYA. I mean exactly what I say. She's a widow. I don't exist. + +PETUSHKOV (puzzled). What? + +FEDYA (smiling drunkenly). I'm dead. You're talking to a corpse. + + [ARTIMIEV leans towards them and listens intently. + +Funny, I seem to be able to say anything to you. And it's so long ago, +so long ago. And what is it after all to you but a story? Well, when I +got to the climax of torturing my wife, when I'd squandered everything +I had or could get, and become utterly rotten, then, there appeared a +protector. + +PETUSHKOV. The usual thing, I suppose? + +FEDYA. Don't think anything filthy about it. He was just her friend, +mine too, a very good, decent fellow; in fact the opposite of myself. +He'd known my wife since she was a child, and I suppose he'd loved her +since then. He used to come to our house a lot. First I was very glad +he did, then I began to see they were falling in love with each other, +and then--an odd thing began to happen to me at night. Do you know +when she lay there asleep beside me (he laughs shrilly) I would hear +him, pushing open the door, crawling into the room, coming to me on +his hands and knees, grovelling, whining, begging me (he is almost +shouting) for her, for her, imagine it! And I, I had to get up and +give my place to him. (He covers his eyes with his hands in a. +convulsive moment.) Phew! Then I'd come to myself. + +PETUSHKOV. God! It must have been horrible. + +FEDYA (wearily). Well, later on I left her--and after a while, they +asked me for a divorce. I couldn't bear all the lying there was to be +got through. Believe me it was easier to think of killing myself. And +so I tried to commit suicide, and I tried and I couldn't. Then a kind +friend came along and said, "Now, don't be foolish!" And she arranged +the whole business for me. I sent my wife a farewell letter--and the +next day my clothes and pocketbook were found on the bank of the +river. Everybody knew I couldn't swim. (Pause.) You understand, don't +you? + +PETUSHKOV. Yes, but what about the body? They didn't find that? + +FEDYA (smiling drunkenly). Oh yes, they did! You just listen! About a +week afterwards some horror was dragged out of the water. My wife was +called in to identify it. It was in pretty bad shape, you know. She +took one glance. "Is that your husband?" they asked her. And she said, +"Yes." Well, that settled it! I was buried, they were married, and +they're living very happily right here in this city. I'm living here, +too! We're all living here together! Yesterday I walked right by their +house. The windows were lit and somebody's shadow went across the +blind. (A pause.) Of course there're times when I feel like hell about +it, but they don't last. The worst is when there's no money to buy +drinks with. + + [He drinks. + +ARTIMIEV. (rising and approaching them). Excuse me, but you know I've +been listening to that story of yours? It's a very good story, and +what's more a very useful one. You say you don't like being without +money, but really there's no need of your ever finding yourself in +that position. + +FEDYA. (interrupting). Look here, I wasn't talking to you and I don't +need your advice! + +ARTIMIEV. But I'm going to give it to you just the same. Now you're a +corpse. Well, suppose you come to life again! + +FEDYA. What? + +ARTIMIEV. Then your wife and that fellow she's so happy with--they'd +be arrested for bigamy. The best they'd get would be ten years in +Siberia. Now you see where you can have a steady income, don't you? + +FEDYA. (furiously). Stop talking and get out of here! + +ARTIMIEV. The best way is to write them a letter. If you don't know +how I'll do it for you. Just give me their address and afterwards when +the ruble notes commence to drop in, how grateful you'll be! + +FEDYA. Get out! Get out, I say! I haven't told you anything! + +ARTIMIEV. Oh, yes, you have! Here's my witness! This waiter heard you +saying you were a corpse! + +FEDYA. (beside himself). You damn blackmailing beast---- + + [Rising. + +ARTIMIEV. Oh, I'm a beast, am I? We'll see about that! (FEDYA rises to +go, ARTIMIEV seizes him.) Police! Police! (FEDYA struggles frantically +to escape.) + + [The POLICE enter and drag him away. + +CURTAIN + + + +SCENE II + +In the country. A veranda covered by a gay awning; sunlight; flowers; +SOPHIA KARENINA, LISA, her little boy and nurse. + +LISA (standing C. in door. To the little boy, smiling), Who do you +think is on his way from the station? + +MISHA (excitedly). Who? Who? + +LISA. Papa. + +MISHA (rapturously). Papa's coming! Papa's coming! + + [Exits L. through C. door. + +LISA (contentedly, to SOPHIA KARENINA). How much he loves Victor! As +if he were his real father! + +SOPHIA KARENINA (on sofa L. knitting--back to audience). Tant mieux. +Do you think he ever remembers his father? + +LISA (sighing). I can't tell. Of course I've never said anything to +him. What's the use of confusing his little head? Yet sometimes I feel +as though I ought. What do you think, Mamma? + +SOPHIA KARENINA. I think it's a matter of feeling. If you can trust +your heart, let it guide you. What extraordinary adjustments death +brings about! I confess I used to think very unkindly of Fedya, when +he seemed a barrier to all this. (She makes a gesture with her hand.) +But now I think of him as that nice boy who was my son's friend, and a +man who was capable of sacrificing himself for those he loved. (She +knits.) I hope Victor hasn't forgotten to bring me some wool. + +LISA. Here he comes. (LISA runs to the edge of the veranda.) There's +some one with him--a lady in a bonnet! Oh, it's mother! How splendid! +I haven't seen her for an age! + + [Enter ANNA PAVLOVNA up C. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA (kissing LISA). My darling. (To SOPHIA KARENINA.) How do +you do? Victor met me and insisted on my coming down. + + [Sits bench L. C. beside SOPHIA. + +SOPHIA KARENINA. This is perfectly charming! + + [Enter VICTOR and MISHA. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. I did want to see Lisa and the boy. So now, if you +don't turn me out, I'll stay till the evening train. + +KARENIN. (L. C., kissing his wife, his mother and the boy). +Congratulate me--everybody--I've a bit of luck, I don't have to go to +town again for two days. Isn't that wonderful? + +LISA. (R. C.). Two days! That's glorious! We'll drive over to the +Hermitage to-morrow and show it to mother. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. (holding the boy). He's so like his father, isn't he? I +do hope he hasn't inherited his father's disposition. + +SOPHIA KARENINA. After all, Fedya's heart was in the right place. +LISA. Victor thinks if he'd only been brought up more carefully +everything would have been different. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Well, I'm not so sure about that, but I do feel sorry +for him. I can't think of him without wanting to cry. + +LISA. I know. That's how Victor and I feel. All the bitterness is +gone. There's nothing left but a very tender memory. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. (sighing). I'm sure of it. Lisa. Isn't it funny? It all +seemed so hopeless back there, and now see how beautifully +everything's come out! + +SOPHIA KARENINA. Oh, by the way, Victor, did you get my wool? + +KARENIN. I certainly did. (Brings a bag and takes out parcels.) Here's +the wool, here's the eau-de-cologne, here are the letters--one on +"Government Service" for you, Lisa---- (Hands her the letter. LISA +opens letter, then strolls R, reading it, suddenly stops.) Well, Anna +Pavlovna, I know you want to make yourself beautiful! I must tidy up, +too. It's almost dinner time. Lisa, you've put your another in the +Blue Room, haven't you? + + [Pause. + + [LISA is pale. She holds the letter with trembling hands and + reads it, KARENIN seeing her. + +What's the matter, Lisa? What is it? + +LISA. He's alive. He's alive. My God! I shall never be free from him. +(VICTOR crosses to LISA.) What does this mean? What's going to happen +to us? + +KARENIN (taking the letter and reading). I don't believe it. + +SOPHIA KARENINA. What is it? (Rising.) What's the matter? Why don't +you tell us? + +KARENIN. He's alive! They're accusing us of bigamy! It's a summons for +Lisa to go before the Examining Magistrate. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. No--no! It can't be! + +SOPHIA KARENINA. Oh, that horrible man! + +KARENIN. So it was all a lie! + +LISA (with a cry of rage). Oh! I hate him so! Victor!--Fedya!--My God! +I don't know what I'm saying. I don't know what I'm saying. + + [Sinks in chair down R. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA (rising). He's not really alive? + + [Lights dim and out. + +CURTAIN + + + +SCENE III + +The room of the examining magistrate, who sits at a table talking to +MELNIKOV, a smartly dressed, languid, man-about-town. + +At a side-table a CLERK is sorting papers. + +MAGISTRATE. (sitting R. of table R. C.). Oh, I never said so. It's her +own notion. And now she is reproaching me with it. + +MELNIKOV. (sitting C. back to audience). She's not reproaching you, +only her feelings are awfully hurt. + +MAGISTRATE. Are they? Oh, well, tell her I'll come to supper after the +performance. But you'd better wait on. I've rather an interesting +case. (To the CLERK.) Here, you, show them in. + +Clerk. (sitting C. facing audience). Both? Excellency. Magistrate. No, +only Madame Karenina. + + [CLERK exits L. I. + +CLERK (calling off stage). Madame Protosova, Madame Protosova. + +MAGISTRATE. Or, to dot my i's, Madame Protosova. + +MELNIKOV (starting to go out). Ah, it's the Karenin case. + +MAGISTRATE. Yes, and an ugly one. I'm just beginning the +investigation. But I assure you it's a first-rate scandal already. +Must you go? Well, see you at supper. Good-bye. + + [Exit MELNIKOV, R. + + [The CLERK shows in LISA; she wears a black dress and veil. + +MAGISTRATE. Please sit down, won't you? (He points to a chair L. C. +LISA sits down.) I am extremely sorry that it's necessary to ask you +questions. + + [LISA appears very much agitated. MAGISTRATE appears unconcerned + and is reading a newspaper as he speaks. + +But please be calm. You needn't answer them unless you wish. Only in +the interest of every one concerned, I advise you to help me reach the +entire truth. + +LISA. I've nothing to conceal. + +MAGISTRATE (looking at papers). Let's see. Your name, station, +religion. I've got all that. You are accused of contracting a marriage +with another man, knowing your first husband to be alive. + +LISA. But I did not know it. + +MAGISTRATE (continuing). And also you are accused of having persuaded +with bribes your first husband to commit a fraud, a pretended suicide, +in order to rid yourself of him. + +LISA. All that's not true. + +MAGISTRATE. Then permit me to ask you these questions: Did you or did +you not send him 1200 rubles in July of last year? + +LISA. That was his own money obtained from selling his things, which I +sent to him during our separation, while I was waiting for my divorce. + +MAGISTRATE. Just so. Very well. When the police asked you to identify +the corpse, how were you sure it was your husband's? + +LISA. Oh, I was so terribly distressed that I couldn't bear to look at +the body. Besides, I felt so sure it was he, and when they asked me, I +just said yes. + +MAGISTRATE. Very good indeed. I can well understand your distraction, +and permit me to observe, Madame, that although servants of the law, +we remain human beings, and I beg you to be assured that I sympathize +with your situation. You were bound to a spendthrift, a drunkard, a +man whose dissipation caused you infinite misery. + +LISA (interrupting). Please, I loved him. + +MAGISTRATE (tolerantly). Of course. Yet naturally you desired to be +free, and you took this simple course without counting the +consequence, which is considered a crime, or bigamy. I understand you, +and so will both judges and jury. And it's for this reason, Madam, I +urge you to disclose the entire truth. + +LISA. I've nothing to disclose. I never have lied. (She begins to +cry.) Do you want me any longer? + +MAGISTRATE. Yes. I must ask you to remain a few minutes longer. No +more questions, however. (To the CLERK.) Show in Victor Karenin. (To +LISA.) I think you'll find that a comfortable chair. (Sits L. C.) + + [Enter KARENIN, stern and solemn. + +Please, sit down. + +KARENIN. Thank you. (He remains standing L. U.) What do you want from +me? + +MAGISTRATE. I have to take your deposition. + +KARENIN. In what capacity? + +MAGISTRATE (smiling). In my capacity of investigating magistrate. You +are here, you know, because you are charged with a crime. + +KARENIN. Really? What crime? + +MAGISTRATE. Bigamy, since you've married a woman already married. But +I'll put the questions to you in their proper order. Sure you'll not +sit down? + +KARENIN. Quite sure. + +MAGISTRATE (writing). Your name? + +KARENIN. Victor Karenin. + +MAGISTRATE. Rank? + +KARENIN. Chamberlain of the Imperial Court. + +MAGISTRATE. Your age? + +KARENIN. Thirty-eight. + +MAGISTRATE. Religion? + +KARENIN. Orthodox, and I've never been tried before of any charge. +(Pause.) What else? + +MAGISTRATE. Did you know that Fedor Protosov was alive when you +married his wife? + +KARENIN. No, we were both convinced that he was drowned. + +MAGISTRATE. All right. And why did you send 1200 rubles to him a few +days before he simulated death on July 17th? + +KARENIN. That money was given me by my wife. + +MAGISTRATE (interrupting him). Excuse me, you mean by Madame +Protosova. + +KARENIN. By my wife to send to her husband. She considered this money +his property, and having broken off all relations with him, felt it +unjust to withhold it. What else do you want? + +MAGISTRATE. I don't want anything, except to do my official duty, and +to aid you in doing yours, through causing you to tell me the whole +truth, in order that your innocence be proved. You'd certainly better +not conceal things which are sure to be found out, since Protosov is +in such a weakened condition, physically and mentally, that he is +certain to come out with the entire truth as soon as he gets into +court, so from your point of view I advise.... + +KARENIN. Please don't advise me, but remain within the limits of your +official capacity. Are we at liberty to leave? + + [He goes to LISA who takes his arm. + +MAGISTRATE. Sorry, but it's necessary to detain you. (KARENIN looks +around in astonishment.) No, I've no intention of arresting you, +although it might be a quicker way of reaching the truth. I merely +want to take Protosov's deposition in your presence, to confront him +with you, that you may facilitate your chances by proving his +statements to be false. Kindly sit down. (To CLERK.) Show in Fedor +Protosov. + + [There is a pause. The CLERK shows in FEDYA in rags, a total + wreck. He enters slowly, dragging his feet. He catches sight of + his wife, who is bowed in grief. For a moment he is about to + take her in his arms--he hesitates--then stands before the + MAGISTRATE. + +MAGISTRATE. I shall ask you to answer some questions. + +FEDYA. (rises, confronting the MAGISTRATE). Ask them. + +MAGISTRATE. Your name? + +FEDYA. You know it. + +MAGISTRATE. Answer my questions exactly, please. + + [Rapping on his desk. + +FEDYA (shrugs). Fedor Protosov. + +MAGISTRATE. Your rank, age, religion? + +FEDYA. (silent for a moment). Aren't you ashamed to ask me these +absurd questions? Ask me what you need to know, only that. + +MAGISTRATE. I shall ask you to take care how you express yourself. + +FEDYA. Well, since you're not ashamed. My rank, graduate of the +University of Moscow; age 40; religion orthodox. What else? + +MAGISTRATE. Did Victor Karenin and Elizaveta Andreyevna know you were +alive when you left your clothes on the bank of the river and +disappeared? + +FEDYA. Of course not. I really wished to commit suicide. But-- +however, why should I tell you? The fact's enough. They knew nothing +of it. + +MAGISTRATE. You gave a somewhat different account to the police +officer. How do you explain that? + +FEDYA. Which police officer? Oh yes, the one who arrested me in that +dive. I was drunk, and I lied to him--about what, I don't remember. +But I'm not drunk now and I'm telling you the whole truth. They knew +nothing; they thought I was dead, and I was glad of it. Everything +would have stayed all right except for that damned beast Artimiev. So +if any one's guilty, it's I. + +MAGISTRATE. I perceive you wish to be generous. Unfortunately the law +demands the truth. Come, why did you receive money from them? + + [FEDYA is silent. + +Why don't you answer me? Do you realize that it will be stated in your +deposition that the accused refused to answer these questions, and +that will harm (he includes LISA and VICTOR in a gesture) all of you? + + [FEDYA remains silent. + +Aren't you ashamed of your stubborn refusal to aid these others and +yourself by telling the entire truth? + +FEDYA (breaking out passionately). The truth--Oh, God! what do you +know about the truth? Your business is crawling up into a little +power, that you may use it by tantalizing, morally and physically, +people a thousand times better than you.... You sit there in your smug +authority torturing people. + +MAGISTRATE. I must ask you---- + +FEDYA (interrupts him). Don't ask me for I'll speak as I feel. +(Turning to CLERK.) And you write it down. So for once some human +words will get into a deposition. + + [Raising his voice, which ascends to a climax during this speech. + +There were three human beings alive: I, he, and she. + + [He turns to his wife with a gesture indicating his love for her. + He pauses, then proceeds. + +We all bore towards one another a most complex relation. We were all +engaged in a spiritual struggle beyond your comprehension: the +struggle between anguish and peace; between falsehood and truth. +Suddenly this struggle ended in a way that set us free. Everybody was +at peace. They loved my memory, and I was happy even in my downfall, +because I'd done what should have been done, and cleared away my weak +life from interfering with their strong good lives. And yet we're all +alive. When suddenly a bastard adventurer appears, who demands that I +abet his filthy scheme. I drive him off as I would a diseased dog, but +he finds you, the defender of public justice, the appointed guardian +of morality, to listen to him. And you, who receive on the 20th of +each month a few kopeks' gratuity for your wretched business, you get +into your uniform, and in good spirits proceed to torture--bully +people whose threshold you're not clean enough to pass. Then when +you've had your fill of showing off your wretched power, oh, then you +are satisfied, and sit and smile there in your damned complacent +dignity. And.... + +MAGISTRATE (raising his voice. Rising excitedly). Be silent or I'll +have you turned out. + +FEDYA. God! Who should I be afraid of! I'm dead, dead, and away out of +your power. (Suddenly overcome with the horror of the situation.) What +can you do to me? How can you punish me--a corpse? + + [Beating his breast. + +MAGISTRATE. Be silent! (To CLERK, who is down L.) Take him out! + + [FEDYA turns, seeing his wife, he falls on his knees before + her ... kisses the hem of her dress, crying bitterly. + + [Slowly he rises, pulls himself together with a great effort, + then exits L. + + [The lights dim and out. + +CURTAIN + + + +SCENE IV + +A corridor at the lower courts; in the background a door opposite +which stands a GUARD; to the right is another door through which the +PRISONERS are conducted to the court. IVAN PETROVICH in rags enters +L., goes to this last door, trying to pass through it. + +GUARD (at door R. C.). Where do you think you're going, shoving in +like that? + +IVAN PETROVICH. Why shouldn't I? The law says these sessions are +public. + +GUARD. You can't get by and that's enough. + +IVAN PETROVICH (in pity). Wretched peasant, you have no idea to whom +you are speaking. + +GUARD. Be silent! + + [Enter a YOUNG LAWYER from R. I. + +LAWYER (to Petrovich). Are you here on business? + +IVAN PETROVICH. No. I'm the public. But this wretched peasant won't +let me pass. + +LAWYER. There's no room for the public at this trial. + +IVAN PETROVICH. Perhaps, but I am above the general rule. + +LAWYER. Well, you wait outside; they'll adjourn presently. + + [He is just going into courtroom through door R. C. when PRINCE + SERGIUS enters L. and stops him. + +PRINCE SERGIUS. How does the case stand? + +LAWYER. The defense has just begun. Petrushin is speaking now. + +PRINCE SERGIUS. Are the Karenins bearing up well? + +LAWYER. Yes, with extraordinary dignity. They look as if they were the +judges instead of the accused. That's felt all the way through, and +PETRUSHIN is taking advantage of it. + +PRINCE SERGIUS. What of Protosov? + +LAWYER. He's frightfully unnerved, trembling all over, but that's +natural considering the sort of life he's led. Yes, he's all on edge, +and he's interrupted, both judge and jury several times already. + +PRINCE SERGIUS. How do you think it will end? + +LAWYER. Hard to say. The jury are mixed. At any rate I don't think +they'll find the Karenins guilty of premeditation. Do you want to go +in? + +PRINCE SERGIUS. I should very much like to. + +LAWYER. Excuse me, you're Prince Sergius Abreskov, aren't you? (To the +Prince.) There's an empty chair just at the left. + + [The guard lets PRINCE SERGIUS pass. + +IVAN PETROVICH. Prince! Bah! I am an aristocrat of the soul, and +that's a higher title. + +LAWYER. Excuse me. + + [And exits down R. C. into courtroom. + + [PETUSHKOV, FEDYA'S companion in the dive, enters approaching + IVAN PETROVICH. + +PETUSHKOV (R.). Oh, there you are. Well, how're things going? + +IVAN PETROVICH (L.). The speeches for the defense have begun, but this +ignorant rascal won't let us in. Curse his damned petty soul. + +GUARD (C.) Silence! Where do you think you are? + + [Further applause is heard; door of the court opens, and there is + a rush of lawyers and the general public into the corridor. + +A LADY. Oh, it's simply wonderful! When he spoke I felt as if my heart +were breaking. + +AN OFFICER. It's all far better than a novel. But I don't see how she +could ever have loved him. Such a sinister, horrible figure. + + [The other door opens over L.; the accused comes out. + +THE LADY (this group is down R.). Hush! There he is. See how wild he +looks. + +FEDYA (seeing IVAN PETROVICH). Did you bring it? + + [Goes to PETROVICH. + +PETROVICH. There. + + [He hands FEDYA something; FEDYA hides it in his pocket. + +FEDYA (seeing PETUSHKOV). How foolish! How vulgar and how boring all +this is, isn't it? + + [Men and women enter door L. and stand down L. watching. + + [Enter PETRUSHIN, from R. C., FEDYA'S counsel, a stout man with + red cheeks; very animated. + +PETRUSHIN (rubbing his hands). Well, well, my friend. It's going along +splendidly. Only remember, don't go and spoil things for me in your +last speech. + +FEDYA (takes him by the arm). Tell me, what'll the worst be? + +PETRUSHIN. I've already told you. Exile to Siberia. + +FEDYA. Who'll be exiled to Siberia? + +PETRUSHIN. You and your wife, naturally. + +FEDYA. And at the best? + +PETRUSHIN. Religious pardon and the annulment of the second marriage. + +FEDYA. You mean--that we should be bound again--to one another---- + +PETRUSHIN. Yes. Only try to collect yourself. Keep up your courage. +After all, there's no occasion for alarm. + +FEDYA. There couldn't be any other sentence, you're sure? + +PETRUSHIN. None other. None other. + + [Exits R. I. FEDYA stands motionless. + +GUARD (crosses and exits L. I. Calling). Pass on. Pass on. No +loitering in the corridor. + + [VICTOR and LISA enter from door L. Start to go off L. when pistol + shot stops them. + +FEDYA (He turns his back to the audience, and from beneath his ragged +coat shoots himself in the heart. There is a muffled explosion, smoke. +He crumples up in a heap on the floor. All the people in the passage +rush to him.) (In a very low voice.) This time--it's well done... +Lisa.... + + [People are crowding in from all the doors, judges, etc. LISA + rushes to FEDYA, KARENIN, IVAN PETROVICH and PRINCE SERGIUS + follow. + +LISA. Fedya!... Fedya!... What have you done? Oh why!... why!... + +FEDYA. Forgive me---- No other way---- Not for you--but for myself---- + +LISA. You will live. You must live. + +FEDYA. No--no---- Good-bye---- (He seems to smile, then he mutters +just under his breath.) Masha. + + [In the distance the gypsies are heard singing "No More at + Evening." They sing until the curtain. + +You're too late---- + + [Suddenly he raises his head from LISA'S knees, and barely utters + as if he saw something in front of him. + +Ah.... Happiness!... + + [His head falls from LISA'S knees to the ground. She still clings + to it, in grief and horror. He dies. + + [The lights dim and out. + +CURTAIN + +END OF _REDEMPTION_ + +* * * * * + +THE POWER OF DARKNESS + +OR + +IF A CLAW IS CAUGHT THE BIRD IS LOST + + + + +CHARACTERS + +PETER IGNATITCH. A well-to-do peasant, 42 years old, married for the +second time, and sickly. + +ANISYA. His wife, 32 years old, fond of dress. + +AKOULINA. Peter's daughter by his first marriage, 16 years old, hard +of hearing, mentally undeveloped. + +NAN (ANNA PETROVNA). His daughter by his second marriage, 10 years old + +NIKITA. Their laborer, 25 years old, fond of dress. + +AKIM. Nikita's father, 50 years old, a plain-looking, God-fearing +peasant. + +MATRYONA. His wife and Nikita's mother, 50 years old. + +MARINA An orphan girl, 22 years old. + +MARTHA. Peter's sister. + +MITRITCH An old laborer, ex-soldier. + +SIMON. Marina's husband. + +BRIDEGROOM. Engaged to Akoulina. + +IVAN. His father. + +A NEIGHBOR. + +FIRST GIRL. + +SECOND GIRL. + +POLICE OFFICER. + +DRIVER. + +BEST MAN + +MATCHMAKER. + +VILLAGE ELDER. + +VISITORS, WOMEN, GIRLS, AND PEOPLE come to see the wedding + +N.B.--The "oven" mentioned is the usual large, brick, Russian +baking-oven. The top of it outside is flat, so that more than one +person can lie on it. + + + + +ACT I + +The Act takes place in autumn in a large village. The Scene represents +PETER'S roomy hut. PETER is sitting on a wooden bench, mending a +horse-collar. ANISYA and AKOULINA are spinning, and singing a +part-song. + +PETER (looking out of the window). The horses have got loose again. If +we don't look out they'll be killing the colt. Nikita! Hey, Nikita! Is +the fellow deaf? (Listens. To the women.) Shut up, one can't hear +anything. + +NIKITA (from outside). What? + +PETER. Drive the horses in. + +NIKITA. We'll drive 'em in. All in good time. + +PETER (shaking his head). Ah, these laborers! If I were well, I'd not +keep one on no account. There's nothing but bother with 'em. (Rises +and sits down again.) Nikita!.... It's no good shouting. One of you'd +better go. Go, Akoul, drive 'em in. + +AKOULINA. What? The horses? + +PETER. What else? + +AKOULINA. All right. + + [Exit. + +PETER. Ah, but he's a loafer, that lad ... no good at all. Won't stir +a finger if he can help it. + +ANISYA. You're so mighty brisk yourself. When you're not sprawling on +the top of the oven you're squatting on the bench. To goad others to +work is all you're fit for. + +PETER. If one weren't to goad you on a bit, one'd have no roof left +over one's head before the year's out. Oh, what people! + +ANISYA. You go shoving a dozen jobs on to one's shoulders, and then do +nothing but scold. It's easy to lie on the oven and give orders. + +PETER (sighing). Oh, if 'twere not for this sickness that's got hold +of me, I'd not keep him on another day. + +AKOULINA (off the scene). Gee up, gee, woo. + + [A colt neighs, the stamping of horses' feet and the creaking of + the gate are heard. + +PETER. Bragging, that's what he's good at. I'd like to sack him, I +would indeed. + +ANISYA (mimicking him). "Like to sack him." You buckle to yourself, +and then talk. + +AKOULINA (enters). It's all I could do to drive 'em in. That piebald +always will.... + +PETER. And where's Nikita? + +AKOULINA. Where's Nikita? Why, standing out there in the street. + +PETER. What's he standing there for? + +AKOULINA. What's he standing there for? He stands there jabbering. + +PETER. One can't get any sense out of her! Who's he jabbering with? + +AKOULINA (does not hear). Eh, what? + + [PETER waves her off. She sits down to her spinning. + +NAN (running in to her mother). Nikita's father and mother have come. +They're going to take him away. It's true! + +ANISYA. Nonsense! + +NAN. Yes. Blest if they're not! (Laughing.) I was just going by, and +Nikita, he says, "Good-bye, Anna Petrovna," he says, "you must come +and dance at my wedding. I'm leaving you," he says, and laughs. + +ANISYA (to her husband). There now. Much he cares. You see, he wants +to leave of himself. "Sack him" indeed! + +PETER. Well, let him go. Just as if I couldn't find somebody else. + +ANISYA. And what about the money he's had in advance? + + [NAN stands listening at the door for awhile, and then exit. + +PETER (frowning). The money? Well, he can work it off in summer, +anyhow. + +ANISYA. Well, of course you'll be glad if he goes and you've not got +to feed him. It's only me as'll have to work like a horse all the +winter. That lass of yours isn't over fond of work either. And you'll +be lying up on the oven. I know you. + +PETER. What's the good of wearing out one's tongue before one has the +hang of the matter? + +ANISYA. The yard's full of cattle. You've not sold the cow, and have +kept all the sheep for the winter: feeding and watering 'em alone +takes all one's time, and you want to sack the laborer. But I tell you +straight, I'm not going to do a man's work! I'll go and lie on the top +of the oven same as you, and let everything go to pot! You may do what +you like. + +PETER (to Akoulina). Go and see about the feeding, will you? it's +time. + +AKOULINA. The feeding? All right. + + [Puts on a coat and takes a rope. + +ANISYA. I'm not going to work for you. You go and work yourself. I've +had enough of it, so there! + +PETER. That'll do. What are you raving about? Like a sheep with the +staggers! + +ANISYA. You're a crazy cur, you are! One gets neither work nor +pleasure from you. Eating your fill, that's all you do; you palsied +cur, you! + +PETER (spits and puts on coat). Faugh! The Lord have mercy! I'd better +go myself and see what's up. + + [Exit. + +ANISYA (after him). Scurvy long-nosed devil! + +AKOULINA. What are you swearing at dad for? + +ANISYA. Hold your noise, you idiot! + +AKOULINA (going to the door). I know why you're swearing at him. +You're an idiot yourself, you bitch. I'm not afraid of you. + +ANISYA. What do you mean? (Jumps up and looks round for something to +hit her with.) Mind, or I'll give you one with the poker. + +AKOULINA (opening the door). Bitch! devil! that's what you are! Devil! +bitch! bitch! devil! + + [Runs off. + +ANISYA (ponders). "Come and dance at my wedding!" What new plan is +this? Marry? Mind. Nikita, if that's your intention, I'll go and.... +No, I can't live without him. I won't let him go. + +NIKITA (enters, looks round, and, seeing Anisya alone, approaches +quickly. In a low tone). Here's a go; I'm in a regular fix! That +governor of mine wants to take me away,--tells me I'm to come home. +Says quite straight I'm to marry and live at home. + +ANISYA. Well, go and marry! What's that to me? + +NIKITA. Is that it? Why, here am I reckoning how best to consider +matters, and just hear her! She tells me to go and marry. Why's that? +(Winking.) Has she forgotten? + +ANISYA. Yes, go and marry! What do I care? + +NIKITA. What are you spitting for? Just see, she won't even let me +stroke her.... What's the matter? + +ANISYA. This! That you want to play me false.... If you do,--why, I +don't want you either. So now you know! + +NIKITA. That'll do, Anisya. Do you think I'll forget you? Never while +I live! I'll not play you false, that's flat. I've been thinking that +supposing they do go and make me marry, I'd still come back to you. If +only he don't make me live at home. + +ANISYA. Much need I'll have of you, once you're married. + +NIKITA. There's a go now. How is it possible to go against one's +father's will? + +ANISYA. Yes, I daresay, shove it all on your father. You know it's +your own doing. You've long been plotting with that slut of yours, +MARINA. It's she has put you up to it. She didn't come here for +nothing t'other day. + +NIKITA. Marina? What's she to me? Much I care about her!... Plenty of +them buzzing around. + +ANISYA. Then what has made your father come here? It's you have told +him to. You've gone and deceived me. + + [Cries. + +NIKITA. Anisya, do you believe in a God or not? I never so much as +dreamt of it. I know nothing at all about it. I never even dreamt of +it--that's flat. My old dad has got it all out of his own pate. + +ANISYA. If you don't wish it yourself who can force you? He can't +drive you like an ass. + +NIKITA. Well, I reckon it's not possible to go against one's parent. +But it's not by my wish. + +ANISYA. Don't you budge, that's all about it! + +NIKITA. There was a fellow wouldn't budge, and the village elder gave +him such a hiding.... That's what it might come to! I've no great wish +for that sort of thing. They say it touches one up.... + +ANISYA. Shut up with your nonsense. Nikita, listen to me: if you marry +that Marina I don't know what I won't do to myself.... I shall lay +hands on myself! I have sinned, I have gone against the law, but I +can't go back now. If you go away I'll.... + +NIKITA. Why should I go? Had I wanted to go--I should have gone long +ago. There was Ivan Semyonitch t'other day--offered me a place as his +coachman.... Only fancy what a life that would have been! But I did +not go. Because, I reckon, I am good enough for any one. Now if you +did not love me it would be a different matter. + +ANISYA. Yes, and that's what you should remember. My old man will die +one of these fine days, I'm thinking; then we could cover our sin, +make it all right and lawful, and then you'll be master here. + +NIKITA. Where's the good of making plans? What do I care? I work as +hard as if I were doing it for myself. My master loves me, and his +missus loves me. And if the wenches run after me, it's not my fault, +that's flat. + +ANISYA. And you'll love me? + +NIKITA (embracing her). There, as you have ever been in my heart.... + +MATRYONA (enters and crosses herself a long time before the icon. +NIKITA and ANISYA step apart). What I saw I didn't perceive, what I +heard, I didn't hearken to. Playing with the lass, eh? Well,--even a +calf will play. Why shouldn't one have some fun when one's young? But +your master is out in the yard a-calling you, sonny. + +NIKITA. I only came to get the axe. + +MATRYONA. I know, sonny, I know; them sort of axes are mostly to be +found where the women are. + +NIKITA (stooping to pick up axe). I say, mother, is it true you want +me to marry? As I reckon, that's quite unnecessary. Besides, I've got +no wish that way. + +MATRYONA. Eh, honey! why should you marry? Go on as you are. It's all +the old man. You'd better go, sonny; we can talk these matters over +without you. + +NIKITA. It's a queer go! One moment I'm to be married, the next, not. +I can't make head or tail of it. + + [Exit. + +ANISYA. What's it all about, then? Do you really wish him to get +married? + +MATRYONA. Eh, why should he marry, my jewel? It's all nonsense, all my +old man's drivel. "Marry, marry." But he's reckoning without his host. +You know the saying, "From oats and hay, why should horses stray?" +When you've enough to spare, why look elsewhere? And so in this case. +(Winks.) Don't I see which way the wind blows? + +ANISYA. Where's the good of my pretending to you, Mother Matryona? You +know all about it. I have sinned. I love your son. + +MATRYONA. Dear me, here's news! D'you think Mother Matryona didn't +know? Eh, lassie,--Mother Matryona's been ground, and ground again, +ground fine! This much I can tell you, my jewel: Mother Matryona can +see through a brick wall three feet thick. I know it all, my jewel! I +know what young wives need sleeping draughts for, so I've brought some +along. + + [Unties a knot in her handkerchief and brings out paper-packets. + +As much as is wanted, I see, and what's not wanted I neither see nor +perceive! There! Mother Matryona has also been young. I had to know a +thing or two to live with my old fool. I know seventy-and-seven +dodges. But I see your old man's quite seedy, quite seedy! How's one +to live with such as him? Why, if you pricked him with a hayfork it +wouldn't fetch blood. See if you don't bury him before the spring. +Then you'll need some one in the house. Well, what's wrong with my +son? He'll do as well as another. Then where's the advantage of my +taking him away from a good place? Am I my child's enemy? + +ANISYA. Oh, if only he does not go away! + +MATRYONA. He won't go away, birdie. It's all nonsense. You know my old +man. His wits are always wool-gathering; yet sometimes he takes a +thing into his pate, and it's as if it were wedged in, you can't knock +it out with a hammer. + +ANISYA. And what started this business? + +MATRYONA. Well, you see, my jewel, you yourself know what a fellow +with women the lad is,--and he's handsome too, though I say it as +shouldn't. Well, you know, he was living at the railway, and they had +an orphan wench there to cook for them. Well, that same wench took to +running after him. + +ANISYA. Marina? + +MATRYONA. Yes, the plague seize her! Whether anything happened or not, +anyhow something got to my old man's ears. Maybe he heard from the +neighbors, maybe she's been and blabbed.... + +ANISYA. Well, she is a bold hussy! + +MATRYONA. So my old man--the old blockhead--off he goes: "Marry, +marry," he says, "he must marry her and cover the sin," he says. "We +must take the lad home," he says, "and he shall marry," he says. Well, +I did my best to make him change his mind, but, dear me, no. So, all +right, thinks I,--I'll try another dodge. One always has to entice +them fools in this way, just pretend to be of their mind, and when it +comes to the point one goes and turns it all one's own way. You know, +a woman has time to think seventy-and-seven thoughts while falling off +the oven, so how's such as he to see through it? "Well, yes," says I, +"it would be a good job,--only we must consider well beforehand. Why +not go and see our son, and talk it over with Peter Ignatitch and hear +what he has to say?" So here we are. + +ANISYA. Oh dear, oh dear, how will it all end? Supposing his father +just orders him to marry her? + +MATRYONA. Orders, indeed! Chuck his orders to the dogs! Don't you +worry; that affair will never come off. I'll go to your old man +myself, and sift and strain this matter clear--there will be none of +it left. I have come here only for the look of the thing. A very +likely thing! Here's my son living in happiness and expecting +happiness, and I'll go and match him with a slut! No fear, I'm not a +fool! + +ANISYA. And she--this Marina--came dangling after him here! Mother, +would you believe, when they said he was going to marry, it was as if +a knife had gone right through my heart. I thought he cared for her. + +MATRYONA. Oh, my jewel! Why, you don't think him such a fool, that he +should go and care for a homeless baggage like that? Nikita is a +sensible fellow, you see. He knows whom to love. So don't you go and +fret, my jewel. We'll not take him away, and we won't marry him. No, +we'll let him stay on, if you'll only oblige us with a little money. + +ANISYA. All I know is, that I could not live if Nikita went away. + +MATRYONA. Naturally, when one's young it's no easy matter! You, a +wench in full bloom, to be living with the dregs of a man like that +husband of yours. + +ANISYA. Mother Matryona, would you believe it? I'm that sick of him, +that sick of this long-nosed cur of mine, I can hardly bear to look at +him. + +MATRYONA. Yes, I see, it's one of them cases. Just look here. (Looks +round and whispers.) I've been to see that old man, you know he's +given me simples of two kinds. This, you see, is a sleeping draught. +"Just give him one of these powders," he says, "and he'll sleep so +sound you might jump on him!" And this here, "This is that kind of +simple," he says, "that if you give one some of it to drink it has no +smell whatever, but its strength is very great. There are seven doses +here, a pinch at a time. Give him seven pinches," he says, "and she +won't have far to look for freedom," he says. + +ANISYA. O-o-oh! What's that? + +MATRYONA. "No sign whatever," he says. He's taken a rouble for it. +"Can't sell it for less," he says. Because it's no easy matter to get +'em, you know. I paid him, dearie, out of my own money. If she takes +them, thinks I, it's all right; if she don't, I can let old Michael's +daughter have them. + +ANISYA. O-o-oh! But mayn't some evil come of them? I'm frightened! + +MATRYONA. What evil, my jewel? If your old man was hale and hearty, +'twould be a different matter, but he's neither alive nor dead as it +is. He's not for this world. Such things often happen. + +ANISYA. O-o-oh, my poor head! I'm afeared, Mother Matryona, lest some +evil come of them. No. That won't do. + +MATRYONA. Just as you like. I might even return them to him. + +ANISYA. And are they to be used in the same way as the others? Mixed +in water? + +MATRYONA. Better in tea, he says. "You can't notice anything," he says, +"no smell nor nothing." He's a cute old fellow, too. + +ANISYA (taking the powder). O-oh, my poor head! Could I have ever +thought of such a thing if my life were not a very hell? + +MATRYONA. You'll not forget that rouble? I promised to take it to the +old man. He's had some trouble, too. + +ANISYA. Of course? + + [Goes to her box and hides the powders. + +MATRYONA. And now, my jewel, keep it as close as you can, so that no +one should find it out. Heaven defend that it should happen, but if +any one notices it, tell 'em it's for the black-beetles. (Takes the +rouble.) It's also used for beetles. (Stops short.) + + [Enter AKIM, who crosses himself in front of the icon, and then + PETER, who sits down. + +PETER. Well, then, how's it to be, Daddy Akim? + +AKIM. As it's best, Peter Ignatitch, as it's best.... I mean--as it's +best. 'Cos why? I'm afeared of what d'you call 'ems, some tomfoolery, +you know. I'd like to, what d'you call it.... to start, you know, +start the lad honest, I mean. But supposing you'd rather, what d'you +call it, we might, I mean, what's name? As it's best.... + +PETER. All right. All right. Sit down and let's talk it over. (Akim +sits down.) Well, then, what's it all about? You want him to marry? + +MATRYONA. As to marrying, he might bide a while, Peter Ignatitch. You +know our poverty, Peter Ignatitch. What's he to marry on? We've hardly +enough to eat ourselves. How can he marry then?... + +PETER. You must consider what will be best. + +MATRYONA. Where's the hurry for him to get married? Marriage is not +that sort of thing, it's not like ripe raspberries that drop off if +not picked in time. + +PETER. If he were to get married, 'twould be a good thing in a way. + +AKIM. We'd like to ... what d'you call it? 'Cos why, you see. I've +what d'you call it ... a job. I mean, I've found a paying job in town, +you know. + +MATRYONA. And a fine job too--cleaning out cesspools. The other day +when he came home, I could do nothing but spew and spew. Faugh! + +AKIM. It's true, at first it does seem what d'you call it ... "knocks +one clean over," you know,--the smell, I mean. But one gets used to +it, and then it's nothing, no worse than malt grain, and then it's, +what d'you call it, ... pays, pays, I mean. And as to the smell being, +what d'you call it, it's not for the likes of us to complain. And one +changes one's clothes. So we'd like to take what's his name ... +NIKITA, I mean, home. Let him manage things at home while I, what +d'you call it,--earn something in town. + +PETER. You want to keep your son at home? Yes, that would be well: but +how about the money he has had in advance? + +AKIM. That's it, that's it! It's just as you Say, Ignatitch, it's just +what d'you call it. 'Cos why? If you go into service, it's as good as +if you had sold yourself, they say. That will be all right. I mean he +may stay and serve his time, only he must, what d'you call it, get +married. I mean--so: you let him off for a little while, that he may, +what d'you call it? + +PETER. Yes, we could manage that. + +MATRYONA. Ah, but it's not yet settled between ourselves, Peter +Ignatitch. I'll speak to you as I would before God, and you may judge +between my old man and me. He goes on harping on that marriage. But +just ask--who it is he wants him to marry. If it were a girl of the +right sort now--I am not my child's enemy, but the wench is not +honest. + +AKIM. No, that's wrong! Wrong, I say. 'Cos why? She, that same girl-- +it's my son as has offended, offended the girl I mean. + +PETER. How offended? + +AKIM. That's how. She's what d'you call it, with him, with my son, +NIKITA. With Nikita, what d'you call it, mean. + +MATRYONA. You wait a bit, my tongue runs smoother--let me tell it. You +know, this lad of ours lived at the railway before he came to you. +There was a girl there as kept dangling after him. A girl of no +account, you know; her name's Marina. She used to cook for the men. So +now this same girl accuses our son, Nikita, that he, so to say, +deceived her. + +PETER. Well, there's nothing good in that. + +MATRYONA. But she's no honest girl herself; she runs after the fellows +like a common slut. + +AKIM. There you are again, old woman, and it's not at all what d'you +call it, it's all not what d'you call it, I mean.... + +MATRYONA. There now, that's all the sense one gets from my old owl-- +"what d'you call it, what d'you call it," and he doesn't know himself +what he means. Peter Ignatitch, don't listen to me, but go yourself +and ask any one you like about the girl, everybody will say the same. +She's just a homeless good-for-nothing. + +PETER. You know, Daddy Akim, if that's how things are, there's no +reason for him to marry her. A daughter-in-law's not like a shoe, you +can't kick her off. + +AKIM (excitedly). It's false, old woman, it's what d'you call it, +false; I mean, about the girl; false! 'Cos why? The lass is a good +lass, a very good lass, you know. I'm sorry, sorry for the lassie, I +mean. + +MATRYONA. It's an old saying: "For the wide world old Miriam grieves, +and at home without bread her children she leaves." He's sorry for the +girl, but not sorry for his own son! Sling her round your neck and +carry her about with you! That's enough of such empty cackle! + +AKIM. No, it's not empty. + +MATRYONA. There, don't interrupt, let me have my say. + +AKIM (interrupts). No, not empty! I mean, you twist things your own +way, about the lass or about yourself. Twist them, I mean, to make it +better for yourself; but God, what d'you call it, turns them His way. +That's how it is. + +MATRYONA. Eh! One only wears out one's tongue with you. + +AKIM. The lass is hard-working and spruce, and keeps everything round +herself ... what d'you call it. And in our poverty, you know, it's a +pair of hands, I mean; and the wedding needn't cost much. But the +chief thing's the offence, the offence to the lass, and she's a what +d'you call it, an orphan, you know; that's what she is, and there's +the offence. + +MATRYONA. Eh! they'll all tell you a tale of that sort.... + +ANISYA. Daddy Akim, you'd better listen to us women; we can tell you a +thing or two. + +AKIM. And God, how about God? Isn't she a human being, the lass? A +what d'you call it,--also a human being I mean, before God. And how do +you look at it? + +MATRYONA. Eh! ... started off again?... + +PETER. Wait a bit, Daddy Akim. One can't believe all these girls say, +either. The lad's alive, and not far away; send for him, and find out +straight from him if it's true. He won't wish to lose his soul. Go and +call the fellow, (Anisya rises) and tell him his father wants him. + + [Exit ANISYA. + +MATRYONA. That's right, dear friend; you've cleared the way clean, as +with water. Yes, let the lad speak for himself. Nowadays, you know, +they'll not let you force a son to marry; one must first of all ask +the lad. He'll never consent to marry her and disgrace himself, not +for all the world. To my thinking, it's best he should go on living +with you and serving you as his master. And we need not take him home +for the summer either; we can hire a help. If you would only give us +ten roubles now, we'll let him stay on. Peter. All in good time. First +let us settle one thing before we start another. Akim. You see, Peter +Ignatitch, I speak. 'Cos why? you know how it happens. We try to fix +things up as seems best for ourselves, you know; and as to God, we +what d'you call it, we forget Him. We think it's best so, turn it our +own way, and lo! we've got into a fix, you know. We think it will be +best, I mean; and lo! it turns out much worse--without God, I mean. + +PETER. Of course one must not forget God. + +AKIM. It turns out worse! But when it's the right way--God's way--it +what d'you call it, it gives one joy; seems pleasant, I mean. So I +reckon, you see, get him, the lad, I mean, get him to marry her, to +keep him from sin, I mean, and let him what d'you call it at home, as +it's lawful, I mean, while I go and get the job in town. The work is +of the right sort--it's payin', I mean. And in God's sight it's what +d'you call it--it's best, I mean. Ain't she an orphan? Here, for +example, a year ago some fellows went and took timber from the +steward,--thought they'd do the steward, you know. Yes, they did the +steward, but they couldn't what d'you call it--do God, I mean. Well, +and so.... + + [Enter NIKITA and NAN. + +NIKITA. You called me? + + [Sits down and takes out his tobacco-pouch. + +PETER (in a low, reproachful voice). What are you thinking about--have +you no manners? Your father is going to speak to you, and you sit down +and fool about with tobacco. Come, get up! + + [NIKITA rises, leans carelessly with his elbow on the table, and +smiles. + +AKIM. It seems there's a complaint, you know, about you, Nikita--a +complaint, I mean, a complaint. + +NIKITA. Who's been complaining? + +AKIM. Complaining? It's a maid, an orphan maid, complaining, I mean. +It's her, you know--a complaint against you, from Marina, I mean. + +NIKITA (laughs). Well, that's a good one. What's the complaint? And +who's told you--she herself? + +AKIM. It's I am asking you, and you must now, what d'you call it, give +me an answer. Have you got mixed up with the lass, I mean--mixed up, +you know? + +NIKITA. I don't know what you mean. What's up? + +AKIM. Foolin', I mean, what d'you call it? foolin'. Have you been +foolin' with her, I mean? + +NIKITA. Never mind what's been! Of course one does have some fun with +a cook now and then to while away the time. One plays the concertina +and gets her to dance. What of that? + +PETER. Don't shuffle, Nikita, but answer your father straight out. + +AKIM (solemnly). You can hide it from men but not from God, Nikita. +You, what d'you call it--think, I mean, and don't tell lies. She's an +orphan; so, you see, any one is free to insult her. An orphan, you +see. So you should say what's rightest. + +NIKITA. But what if I have nothing to say? I have told you everything +--because there isn't anything to tell, that's flat! (Getting excited.) +She can go and say anything about me, same as if she was speaking of +one as is dead. Why don't she say anything about Fedka Mikishin? +Besides, how's this, that one mayn't even have a bit of fun nowadays? +And as for her, well, she's free to say anything she likes. + +AKIM. Ah, Nikita, mind! A lie will out. Did anything happen? + +NIKITA (aside). How he sticks to it; it's too bad. (To Akim.) I tell +you, I know nothing more. There's been nothing between us. (Angrily.) +By God! and may I never leave this spot (crosses himself) if I know +anything about it. (Silence. Then still more excitedly.) Why! have you +been thinking of getting me to marry her? What do you mean by it?-- +it's a confounded shame. Besides, nowadays you've got no such rights +as to force a fellow to marry. That's plain enough. Besides, haven't I +sworn I know nothing about it? + +MATRYONA (to her husband). There now, that's just like your silly +pate, to believe all they tell you. He's gone and put the lad to shame +all for nothing. The best thing is to let him live as he is living, +with his master. His master will help us in our present need, and give +us ten roubles, and when the time comes.... + +PETER. Well, Daddy Akim, how's it to be? + +AKIM (looks at his son, clicking his tongue disapprovingly). Mind, +Nikita, the tears of one that's been wronged never, what d'you call +it--never fall beside the mark but always on, what's name--the head of +the man as did the wrong. So mind, don't what d'you call it. + +NIKITA (sits down). What's there to mind? mind yourself. + +NAN (aside). I must run and tell mother. + + [Exit. + +MATRYONA (to Peter). That's always the way with this old mumbler of +mine, Peter Ignatitch. Once he's got anything wedged in his pate +there's no knocking it out. We've gone and troubled you all for +nothing. The lad can go on living as he has been. Keep him; he's your +servant. + +PETER. Well, Daddy Akim, what do you say? + +AKIM. Why, the lad's his own master, if only he what d'you call it.... +I only wish that, what d'you call it, I mean. + +MATRYONA. You don't know yourself what you're jawing about. The lad +himself has no wish to leave. Besides, what do we want with him at +home? We can manage without him. + +PETER. Only one thing, Daddy Akim--if you are thinking of taking him +back in summer, I don't want him here for the winter. If he is to stay +at all, it must be for the whole year. + +MATRYONA. And it's for a year he'll bind himself. If we want help when +the press of work comes, we can hire help, and the lad shall remain +with you. Only give us ten roubles now.... + +PETER. Well then, is it to be for another year? + +AKIM (sighing). Yes, it seems, it what d'you call it ... if it's so, I +mean, it seems that it must be what d'you call it. + +MATRYONA. For a year, counting from St. Dimitry's day. We know you'll +pay him fair wages. But give us ten roubles now. Help us out of our +difficulties. (Gets up and bows to Peter.) + + [Enter NAN and ANISYA. The latter sits down at one side. + +PETER. Well, if that's settled we might step across to the inn and +have a drink. Come, Daddy Akim, what do you say to a glass of vodka? + +AKIM. No, I never drink that sort of thing. + +PETER. Well, you'll have some tea? + +AKIM. Ah, tea! yes, I do sin that way. Yes, tea's the thing. + +PETER. And the women will also have some tea. Come. And you, Nikita, +go and drive the sheep in and clear away the straw. + +NIKITA. All right. (Exeunt all but NIKITA. NIKITA lights a cigarette. +It grows darker.) Just see how they bother one. Want a fellow to tell +'em how he larks about with the wenches! It would take long to tell +'em all those stories--"Marry her," he says. Marry them all! One would +have a good lot of wives! And what need have I to marry? Am as good as +married now! There's many a chap as envies me. Yet how strange it felt +when I crossed myself before the icon. It was just as if some one +shoved me. The whole web fell to pieces at once. They say it's +frightening to swear what's not true. That's all humbug. It's all +talk, that is. It's simple enough. + +AKOULINA (enters with a rope, which she puts down. She takes off her +outdoor things and goes into closet). You might at least have got a +light. + +NIKITA. What, to look at you? I can see you well enough without. + +AKOULINA. Oh, bother you! + + [NAN enters and whispers to NIKITA. + +NAN. Nikita, there's a person wants you. There is! + +NIKITA. What person? + +NAN. Marina from the railway; she's out there, round the corner. + +NIKITA. Nonsense! + +NAN. Blest if she isn't! Nikita. What does she want? + +NAN. She wants you to come out. She says, "I only want to say a word +to Nikita." I began asking, but she won't tell, but only says, "Is it +true he's leaving you?" And I say, "No, only his father wanted to take +him away and get him to marry, but he won't, and is going to stay with +us another year." And she says, "For goodness' sake send him out to +me. I must see him," she says, "I must say a word to him somehow." +She's been waiting a long time. Why don't you go? + +NIKITA. Bother her! What should I go for? + +NAN. She says, "If he don't come, I'll go into the hut to him." Blest +if she didn't say she'd come in! + +NIKITA. Not likely. She'll wait a bit and then go away. + +NAN. "Or is it," she says, "that they want him to marry Akoulina?" + + [Re-enter AKOULINA, passing near NIKITA to take her distaff. + +AKOULINA. Marry whom to Akoulina? + +NAN. Why, Nikita. Akoulina. A likely thing! Who says it? + +NIKITA (looks at her and laughs). It seems people do say it. Would you +marry me, Akoulina? + +AKOULINA. Who, you? Perhaps I might have afore, but I won't now. + +NIKITA. And why not now? Akoulina. 'Cos you wouldn't love me. + +NIKITA. Why not? Akoulina. 'Cos you'd be forbidden to. + + [Laughs. + +NIKITA. Who'd forbid it? + +AKOULINA. Who? My step-mother. She does nothing but grumble, and is +always staring at you. + +NIKITA (laughing). Just hear her! Ain't she cute? + +AKOULINA. Who? Me? What's there to be cute about? Am I blind? She's +been rowing and rowing at dad all day. The fat-muzzled witch! + + [Goes into closet. + +NAN (looking out of the window). Look, Nikita, she's coming! I'm blest +if she isn't! I'll go away. + + [Exit. + +MARINA (enters). What are you doing with me? + +NIKITA. Doing? I'm not doing anything. + +MARINA. You mean to desert me. + +NIKITA (gets up angrily). What does this look like, your coming here? + +MARINA. Oh, Nikita! + +NIKITA. Well, you are strange! What have you come for? + +MARINA. Nikita! + +NIKITA. That's my name. What do you want with Nikita? Well, what next? +Go away, I tell you! + +MARINA. I see, you do want to throw me over. + +NIKITA. Well, and what's there to remember? You yourself don't know. +When you stood out there round the corner and sent Nan for me, and I +didn't come, wasn't it plain enough that you're not wanted? It seems +pretty simple. So there--go! + +MARINA. Not wanted! So now I'm not wanted! I believed you when you +said you would love me. And now that you've ruined me, I'm not wanted. + +NIKITA. Where's the good of talking? This is quite improper. You've +been telling tales to father. Now, do go away, will you? + +MARINA. You know yourself I never loved any one but you. Whether you +married me or not, I'd not have been angry. I've done you no wrong, +then why have you left off caring for me? Why? + +NIKITA. Where's the use of baying at the moon? You go away. Goodness +me! what a duffer! + +MARINA. It's not that you deceived me when you promised to marry me +that hurts, but that you've left off loving. No, it's not that you've +stopped loving me either, but that you've changed me for another, +that's what hurts. I know who it is! + +NIKITA (comes up to her viciously). Eh! what's the good of talking to +the likes of you, that won't listen to reason? Be off, or you'll drive +me to do something you'll be sorry for. + +MARINA. What, will you strike me, then? Well then, strike me! What are +you turning away for? Ah, Nikita! + +NIKITA. Supposing some one came in. Of course, it's quite improper. +And what's the good of talking? + +MARINA. So this is the end of it! What has been has flown. You want me +to forget it? Well then, Nikita, listen. I kept my maiden honor as the +apple of my eye. You have ruined me for nothing, you have deceived me. +You have no pity on a fatherless and motherless girl! (Weeping.) You +have deserted, you have killed me, but I bear you no malice. God +forgive you! If you find a better one you'll forget me, if a worse one +you'll remember me. Yes, you will remember, Nikita! Good-bye, then, if +it is to be. Oh, how I loved you! Good-bye for the last time. + + [Takes his head in her hands and tries to kiss him. + +NIKITA (tossing his head back). I'm not going to talk with the likes +of you. If you won't go away I will, and you may stay here by +yourself. + +MARINA (screams). You are a brute. (In the doorway.) God will give you +no joy. + + [Exit, crying. + +AKOULINA (comes out of closet). You're a dog, Nikita! + +NIKITA. What's up? + +AKOULINA. What a cry she gave! + + [Cries. + +NIKITA. What's up with you? + +AKOULINA. What's up? You've hurt her, ... That's the way you'll hurt +me also. You're a dog. + + [Exit into closet. + + [Silence. + +NIKITA. Here's a fine muddle. I'm as sweet as honey on the lasses, but +when a fellow's sinned with 'em it's a bad look-out! + +CURTAIN + + + + +ACT II + +The scene represents the village street. To the left the outside of +PETER'S hut, built of logs, with a porch in the middle; to the right +of the hut the gates and a corner of the yard buildings. ANISYA is +beating hemp in the street near the corner of the yard. Six months +have elapsed since the First Act. + +ANISYA (stops and listens). Mumbling something again. He's probably +got off the stove. + + [AKOULINA enters, carrying two pails on a yoke. + +ANISYA. He's calling. You go and see what he wants, kicking up such a +row. + +AKOULINA. Why don't you go? + +ANISYA. Go, I tell you! + + [Exit AKOULINA into hut. + +He's bothering me to death. Won't let out where the money is, and +that's all about it. He was out in the passage the other day. He must +have been hiding it there. Now, I don't know myself where it is. Thank +goodness he's afraid of parting with it, so that at least it will stay +in the house. If only I could manage to find it. He hadn't it on him +yesterday. Now I don't know where it can be. He has quite worn the +life out of me. + + [Enter AKOULINA, tying her kerchief over her head. + +ANISYA. Where are you off to? + +AKOULINA. Where? Why, he's told me to go for Aunt Martha. "Fetch my +sister," he says. "I am going to die," he says. "I have a word to say +to her." + +ANISYA (aside). Asking for his sister? Oh, my poor head! Sure he wants +to give it her. What shall I do? Oh! (To AKOULINA.) Don't go! Where +are you off to? + +AKOULINA. To call Aunt. + +ANISYA. Don't go I tell you, I'll go myself. You go and take the +clothes to the river to rinse. Else you'll not have finished by the +evening. + +AKOULINA. But he told me to go. + +ANISYA. You go and do as you're bid. I tell you I'll fetch Martha +myself. Take the shirts off the fence. + +AKOULINA. The shirts? But maybe you'll not go. He's given the order. + +ANISYA. Didn't I say I'd go? Where's Nan? + +AKOULINA. Nan? Minding the calves. + +ANISYA. Send her here. I dare say they'll not run away. + + [AKOULINA collects the clothes, and exit. + +ANISYA. If one doesn't go he'll scold. If one goes he'll give the +money to his sister. All my trouble will be wasted. I don't myself +know what I'm to do. My poor head's splitting. + + [Continues to work. + + [Enter MATRYONA, with a stick and a bundle, in outdoor clothes. + +MATRYONA. May the Lord help you, honey. + +ANISYA (looks round, stops working, and claps her hands with joy). +Well, I never expected this! Mother Matryona, God has sent the right +guest at the right time. + +MATRYONA. Well, how are things? + +ANISYA. Ah, I'm driven well-nigh crazy. It's awful! + +MATRYONA. Well, still alive, I hear? + +ANISYA. Oh, don't talk about it. He doesn't live and doesn't die! + +MATRYONA. But the money--has he given it to anybody? + +ANISYA. He's just sending for his sister Martha--probably about the +money. + +MATRYONA. Well, naturally! But hasn't he given it to any one else? + +ANISYA. To no one. I watch like a hawk. + +MATRYONA. And where is it? + +ANISYA. He doesn't let out. And I can't find out in any way. He hides +it now here, now there, and I can't do anything because of Akoulina. +Idiot though she is, she keeps watch, and is always about. Oh my poor +head! I'm bothered to death. + +MATRYONA. Oh, my jewel, if he gives the money to any one but you, +you'll never cease regretting it as long as you live! They'll turn you +out of house and home without anything. You've been worriting, and +worriting all your life with one you don't love, and will have to go +a-begging when you are a widow. + +ANISYA. No need to tell me, mother. My heart's that weary, and I don't +know what to do. No one to get a bit of advice from. I told Nikita, +but he's frightened of the job. The only thing he did was to tell me +yesterday it was hidden under the floor. + +MATRYONA. Well, and did you look there? + +ANISYA. I couldn't. The old man himself was in the room. I notice that +sometimes he carries it about on him, and sometimes he hides it. + +MATRYONA. But you, my lass, must remember that if once he gives you +the slip there's no getting it right again! (Whispering.) Well, and +did you give him the strong tea? + +ANISYA. Oh! oh!... + + [About to answer, but sees neighbor and stops. + + [The NEIGHBOR (a woman) passes the hut, and listens to a call from + within. + +NEIGHBOR (to Anisya). I say, Anisya! Oh, Anisya! There's your old man +calling, I think. + +ANISYA. That's the way he always coughs,--just as if he were screaming. +He's getting very bad. + +NEIGHBOR (approaches MATRYONA). How do you do, granny? Have you come +far? + +MATRYONA. Straight from home, dear. Come to see my son. Brought him +some shirts--can't help thinking of these things, you see, when it's +one's own child. + +NEIGHBOR. Yes, that's always so. (To Anisya.) And I was thinking of +beginning to bleach the linen, but it is a bit early, no one has begun +yet. + +ANISYA. Where's the hurry? + +MATRYONA. Well, and has he had communion? + +ANISYA. Oh, dear, yes, the priest was here yesterday. + +NEIGHBOR. I had a look at him yesterday. Dearie me! one wonders his +body and soul keep together. And, O Lord, the other day he seemed just +at his last gasp, so that they laid him under the holy icons.[1] They +started lamenting and got ready to lay him out. + +ANISYA. He came to, and creeps about again. + +MATRYONA. Well, and is he to have extreme unction? + +ANISYA. The neighbors advise it. If he lives till to-morrow we'll send +for the priest. + +NEIGHBOR. Oh, Anisya dear, I should think your heart must be heavy. As +the saying goes, "Not he is sick that's ill in bed, but he that sits +and waits in dread." + +ANISYA. Yes, if it were only over one way or other! + +NEIGHBOR. Yes, that's true, dying for a year, it's no joke. You're +bound hand and foot like that. + +MATRYONA. Ah, but a widow's lot is also bitter. It's all right as long +as one's young, but who'll care for you when you're old? Oh yes, old +age is not pleasure. Just look at me. I've not walked very far, and +yet am so footsore I don't know how to stand. Where's my son? + +ANISYA. Ploughing. But you come in and we'll get the samovar ready; +the tea'll set you up again. + +MATRYONA (sitting down). Yes, it's true, I'm quite done up, my dears. +As to extreme unction, that's absolutely necessary. Besides, they say +it's good for the soul. + +ANISYA. Yes, we'll send to-morrow. + +MATRYONA. Yes, you had better. And we've had a wedding down in our +parts. + +NEIGHBOR. What, in spring?[2] + +MATRYONA. Ah, now if it were a poor man, then, as the saying is, it's +always unseasonable for a poor man to marry. But it's Simon +Matveyitch, he's married that Marina. + +ANISYA. What luck for her! + +NEIGHBOR. He's a widower. I suppose there are children? + +MATRYONA. Four of 'em. What decent girl would have him! Well, so he's +taken her, and she's glad. You see, the vessel was not sound, so the +wine trickled out. + +NEIGHBOR. Oh, my! And what do people say to it? And he, a rich +peasant! + +MATRYONA. They are living well enough so far. + +NEIGHBOR. Yes, it's true enough. Who wants to marry where there are +children? There now, there's our Michael. He's such a fellow, dear +me.... + +PEASANT'S VOICE. Hullo, Mavra. Where the devil are you? Go and drive +the cow in. + + [Exit NEIGHBOR. + +MATRYONA (while the NEIGHBOR is within hearing speaks in her ordinary +voice). Yes, lass, thank goodness, she's married. At any rate my old +fool won't go bothering about Nikita. Now (suddenly changing her +tone), she's gone! (Whispers.) I say, did you give him the tea? + +ANISYA. Don't speak about it. He'd better die of himself. It's no use +--he doesn't die, and I have only taken a sin on my soul. O-oh, my +head, my head! Oh, why did you give me those powders? + +MATRYONA. What of the powders? The sleeping powders, lass,--why not +give them? No evil can come of them. + +ANISYA. I am not talking of the sleeping ones, but the others, the +white ones. + +MATRYONA. Well, honey, those powders are medicinal. + +ANISYA (sighs). I know, yet it's frightening. Though he's worried me +to death. + +MATRYONA. Well, and did you use many? + +ANISYA. I gave two doses. + +MATRYONA. Was anything noticeable? + +ANISYA. I had a taste of the tea myself--just a little bitter. And he +drank them with the tea and says, "Even tea disgusts me," and I say, +"Everything tastes bitter when one's sick." But I felt that scared, +mother. + +MATRYONA. Don't go thinking about it. The more one thinks the worse it +is. + +ANISYA. I wish you'd never given them to me and led me into sin. When +I think of it something seems to tear my heart. Oh, dear, why did you +give them to me? + +MATRYONA. What do you mean, honey? Lord help you! Why are you turning +it on to me? Mind, lass, don't go twisting matters from the sick on to +the healthy. If anything were to happen, I stand aside! I know +nothing! I'm aware of nothing! I'll kiss the cross on it; I never gave +you any kind of powders, never saw any, never heard of any, and never +knew there were such powders. You think about yourself, lass. Why, we +were talking about you the other day. "Poor thing, what torture she +endures. The step-daughter an idiot; the old man rotten, sucking her +lifeblood. What wouldn't one be ready to do in such a case!" + +ANISYA. I'm not going to deny it. A life such as mine could make one +do worse than that. It could make you hang yourself or throttle him. +Is this a life? + +MATRYONA. That's just it. There's no time to stand gaping; the money +must be found one way or other, and then he must have his tea. + +ANISYA. O-oh, my head, my head! I can't think what to do. I am so +frightened; he'd better die of himself. I don't want to have it on my +soul. + +MATRYONA (viciously). And why doesn't he show the money? Does he mean +to take it along with him? Is no one to have it? Is that right? God +forbid such a sum should be lost all for nothing. Isn't that a sin? +What's he doing? Is he worth considering? + +ANISYA. I don't know anything. He's worried me to death. + +MATRYONA. What is it you don't know? The business is clear. If you +make a slip now, you'll repent it all your life. He'll give the money +to his sister and you'll be left without. + +ANISYA. O--oh dear! Yes, and he did send for her--I must go. + +MATRYONA. You wait a bit and light the samovar first. We'll give him +some tea and search him together--we'll find it, no fear. + +ANISYA. Oh dear, oh dear; supposing something were to happen. + +MATRYONA. What now? What's the good of waiting? Do you want the money +to slip from your hand when it's just in sight? You go and do as I +say. + +ANISYA. Well, I'll go and light the samovar. + +MATRYONA. Go, honey, do the business so as not to regret it +afterwards. That's right! + + [ANISYA turns to go. MATRYONA calls her back. + +MATRYONA. Just a word. Don't tell Nikita about the business. He's +silly. God forbid he should find out about the powders. The Lord only +knows what he would do. He's so tender-hearted. D'you know, he usen't +to be able to kill a chicken. Don't tell him. 'Twould be a fine go, he +wouldn't understand things. + + [Stops horror-struck as PETER appears in the doorway. + +PETER (holding on to the wall, creeps out into the porch and calls +with a faint voice). How's it one can't make you hear? Oh, oh, Anisya! +Who's there? + + [Drops on the bench. + +ANISYA (steps from behind the corner). Why have you come out? You +should have stayed where you were lying. + +PETER. Has the girl gone for Martha? It's very hard.... Oh, if only +death would come quicker! + +ANISYA. She had no time. I sent her to the river. Wait a bit, I'll go +myself when I'm ready. + +PETER. Send Nan. Where's she? Oh, I'm that bad! Oh, death's at hand! + +ANISYA. I've sent for her already. Peter. Oh, dear! Then where is she? + +ANISYA. Where's she got to, the plague seize her! + +PETER. Oh, dear! I can't bear it. All my inside's on fire. It's as if +a gimlet were boring me. Why have you left me as if I were a dog? ... +no one to give me a drink.... Oh ... send Nan to me. + +ANISYA. Here she is. Nan, go to father. + + [NAN runs in. ANISYA goes behind the corner of the house. + +PETER. Go you. Oh ... to Aunt Martha, tell her father wants her; say +she's to come, I want her. + +NAN. All right. + +PETER. Wait a bit. Tell her she's to come quick. Tell her I'm dying. +O--oh! + +NAN. I'll just get my shawl and be off. + + [Runs off. + +MATRYONA (winking). Now, then, mind and look sharp, lass. Go into the +hut, hunt about everywhere, like a dog that's hunting for fleas: look +under everything, and I'll search him. + +ANISYA (to MATRYONA). I feel a bit bolder, somehow, now you're here. +(Goes up to porch. To PETER.) Hadn't I better light the samovar? +Here's Mother Matryona come to see her son; you'll have a cup of tea +with her? + +PETER. Well, then, light it. + + [ANISYA goes into the house. MATRYONA comes up to the porch. + +PETER. How do you do? + +MATRYONA (bowing). How d'you do, my benefactor; how d'you do, my +precious ... still ill, I see. And my old man, he's that sorry! "Go," +says he, "see how he's getting on." He sends his respects to you. + + [Bows again. + +PETER. I'm dying. + +MATRYONA. Ah, yes, Peter Ignatitch, now I look at you I see, as the +saying has it, "Sickness lives where men live." You've shrivelled, +shrivelled, all to nothing, poor dear, now I come to look at you. +Seems illness does not add to good looks. + +PETER. My last hour has come. + +MATRYONA. Oh well, Peter Ignatitch, it's God's will you know, you've +had communion, and you'll have unction, God willing. Your missus is a +wise woman, the Lord be thanked; she'll give you a good burial, and +have prayers said for your soul, all most respectable! And my son, +he'll look after things meanwhile. + +PETER. There'll be no one to manage things! She's not steady. Has her +head full of folly--why, I know all about it, I know. And my girl is +silly and young. I've got the homestead together, and there's no one +to attend to things. One can't help feeling it. + + [Whimpers. + +MATRYONA. Why, if it's money, or something, you can leave orders? + +PETER (to Anisya inside the house). Has Nan gone? + +MATRYONA (aside). There now, he's remembered! + +ANISYA (from inside). She went then and there. Come inside, won't you? +I'll help you in. + +PETER. Let me sit here a bit for the last time. The air's so stuffy +inside. Oh, how bad I feel! Oh, my heart's burning.... Oh, if death +would only come! + +MATRYONA. If God don't take a soul, the soul can't go out. Death and +life are in God's will. Peter Ignatitch. You can't be sure of death +either. Maybe you'll recover yet. There was a man in our village just +like that, at the very point of death.... + +PETER. No, I feel I shall die to-day, I feel it. + + [Leans back and shuts his eyes. + +ANISYA (enters). Well, now, are you coming in or not? You do keep one +waiting. Peter! eh, Peter! + +MATRYONA (steps aside and beckons to ANISYA with her finger). Well? + +ANISYA (comes down the porch steps). Not there. + +MATRYONA. But have you searched everywhere? Under the floor? + +ANISYA. No, it's not there either. In the shed perhaps; he was +rummaging there yesterday. + +MATRYONA. Go, search, search for all you're worth. Go all over +everywhere, as if you licked with your tongue! But I see he'll die +this very day, his nails are turning blue and his face looks earthy. +Is the samovar ready? + +ANISYA. Just on the boil. + +NIKITA (comes from the other side, if possible on horse-back, up to +the gate, and does not see PETER. To MATRYONA). How d'you do, mother, +is all well at home? + +MATRYONA. The Lord be thanked, we're all alive and have a crust to +bite. + +NIKITA. Well and how's master? + +MATRYONA. Hush, there he sits. + + [Points to porch. + +NIKITA. Well, let him sit. What's it to me? + +PETER (opens his eyes). Nikita, I say, Nikita, come here! + + [NIKITA approaches. ANISYA and MATRYONA whisper together. + +PETER. Why have you come back so early? + +NIKITA. I've finished ploughing. + +PETER. Have you done the strip beyond the bridge? + +NIKITA. It's too far to go there. + +PETER. Too far? From here it's still farther. You'll have to go on +purpose now. You might have made one job of it. + + [ANISYA, without showing herself, stands and listens. + +MATRYONA (approaches). Oh, sonny, why don't you take more pains for +your master? Your master is ill and depends on you; you should serve +him as you would your own father, straining every muscle just as I +always tell you to. + +PETER. Well, then--o--oh!... Get out the seed potatoes, and the women +will go and sort them. + +ANISYA (aside). No fear, I'm not going. He's again sending every one +away; he must have the money on him now, and wants to hide it +somewhere. + +PETER. Else ... o--oh! when the time comes for planting, they'll all +be rotten. Oh, I can't stand it! + + [Rises. + +MATRYONA (runs up into the porch and holds PETER up). Shall I help you +into the hut? + +PETER. Help me in. (Stops.) Nikita! + +NIKITA (angrily). What now? + +PETER. I shan't see you again.... I'll die to-day.... Forgive me,[3] +for Christ's sake, forgive me if I have ever sinned against you.... If +I have sinned in word or deed.... There's been all sorts of things. +Forgive me! + +NIKITA. What's there to forgive? I'm a sinner myself. + +MATRYONA. Ah, sonny, have some feeling. + +PETER. Forgive me, for Christ's sake. + + [Weeps. + +NIKITA (snivels). God will forgive you, Daddy Peter. I have no cause +to complain of you. You've never done me any wrong. You forgive me; +maybe I've sinned worse against you. (Weeps.) + + [PETER goes in whimpering, MATRYONA supporting him. + +ANISYA. Oh, my poor head! It's not without some reason he's hit on +that. (Approaches NIKITA.) Why did you say the money was under the +floor? It's not there. + +NIKITA (does not answer, but cries). I have never had anything bad +from him, nothing but good, and what have I gone and done! + +ANISYA. Enough now! Where's the money? + +NIKITA (angrily). How should I know? Go and look for it yourself! + +ANISYA. What's made you so tender? + +NIKITA. I am sorry for him,--that sorry. How he cried! Oh, dear! + +ANISYA. Look at him,--seized with pity! He has found some one to pity +too! He's been treating you like a dog, and even just now was giving +orders to have you turned out of the house. You'd better show me some +pity! + +NIKITA. What are you to be pitied for? + +ANISYA. If he dies, and the money's been hidden away.... + +NIKITA. No fear, he'll not hide it.... + +ANISYA. Oh, Nikita darling! he's sent for his sister, and wants to +give it to her. It will be a bad lookout for us. How are we going to +live, if he gives her the money? They'll turn me out of the house! You +try and manage somehow! You said he went to the shed last night. + +NIKITA. I saw him coming from there, but where he's shoved it to, who +can tell? + +ANISYA. Oh, my poor head! I'll go and have a look there. + + [NIKITA steps aside. + +MATRYONA (comes out of the hut and down the steps of the porch to +ANISYA and NIKITA). Don't go anywhere. He's got the money on him. I +felt it on a string round his neck. + +ANISYA. Oh my head, my head! + +MATRYONA. If you don't keep wide awake now, then you may whistle for +it. If his sister comes--then good-bye to it! + +ANISYA. That's true. She'll come and he'll give it her. What's to be +done? Oh, my poor head! + +MATRYONA. What is to be done? Why, look here; the samovar is boiling, +go and make the tea and pour him out a cup, and then (whispers) put in +all that's left in the paper. When he's drunk the cup, then just take +it. He'll not tell, no fear. + +ANISYA. Oh! I'm afeared! + +MATRYONA. Don't be talking now, but look alive, and I'll keep his +sister off if need be. Mind, don't make a blunder! Get hold of the +money and bring it here, and Nikita will hide it. + +ANISYA. Oh my head, my head! I don't know how I'm going to.... + +MATRYONA. Don't talk about it I tell you, do as I bid you. Nikita! + +NIKITA. What is it? + +MATRYONA. You stay here--sit down--in case something is wanted. + +NIKITA (waves his hand). Oh, these women, what won't they be up to? +Muddle one up completely. Bother them! I'll really go and fetch out +the potatoes. + +MATRYONA (catches him by the arm). Stay here, I tell you. + + [NAN enters. + +ANISYA. Well? + +NAN. She was down in her daughter's vegetable plot--she's coming. + +ANISYA. Coming! What shall we do? + +MATRYONA. There's plenty of time if you do as I tell you. + +ANISYA. I don't know what to do; I know nothing, my brain's all in a +whirl. Nan! Go, daughter, and see to the calves, they'll have run +away, I'm afraid.... Oh dear, I haven't the courage. + +MATRYONA. Go on! I should think the samovar's boiling over. + +ANISYA. Oh my head, my poor head! + + [Exit. + +MATRYONA (approaches NIKITA). Now then, sonny. (Sits down beside him.) +Your affairs must also be thought about, and not left anyhow. + +NIKITA. What affairs? + +MATRYONA. Why, this affair--how you're to live your life. + +NIKITA. How to live my life? Others live, and I shall live! + +MATRYONA. The old man will probably die to-day. + +NIKITA. Well, if he dies, God give him rest! What's that to me? + +MATRYONA (keeps looking towards the porch while she speaks). Eh, +sonny! Those that are alive have to think about living. One needs +plenty of sense in these matters, honey. What do you think? I've +tramped all over the place after your affairs, I've got quite footsore +bothering about matters. And you must not forget me when the time +comes. + +NIKITA. And what's it you've been bothering about? + +MATRYONA. About your affairs, about your future. If you don't take +trouble in good time you'll get nothing. You know Ivan Mosevitch? +Well, I've been to him too. I went there the other day. I had +something else to settle, you know. Well, so I sat and chatted awhile +and then came to the point. "Tell me, Ivan Mosevitch," says I, "how's +one to manage an affair of this kind? Supposing," says I, "a peasant +as is a widower married a second wife, and supposing all the children +he has is a daughter by the first wife, and a daughter by the second. +Then," says I, "when that peasant dies, could an outsider get hold of +the homestead by marrying the widow? Could he," says I, "give both the +daughters in marriage and remain master of the house himself?" "Yes, +he could," says he, "but," says he, "it would mean a deal of trouble; +still the thing could be managed by means of money, but if there's no +money it's no good trying." + +NIKITA (laughs). That goes without saying, only fork out the money. +Who does not want money? + +MATRYONA. Well then, honey, so I spoke out plainly about the affair. +And he says, "First and foremost, your son will have to get himself on +the register of that village--that will cost something. The elders +will have to be treated. And they, you see, they'll sign. Everything," +says he, "must be done sensibly." Look (unwraps her kerchief and takes +out a paper), he's written out this paper; just read it, you're a +scholar, you know. + + [NIKITA reads. + +NIKITA. This paper's only a decision for the elders to sign. There's +no great wisdom needed for that. + +MATRYONA. But you just hear what Ivan Mosevitch bids us do. "Above +all," he says, "mind and don't let the money slip away, dame. If she +don't get hold of the money," he says, "they'll not let her do it. +Money's the great thing!" So look out, sonny, things are coming to a +head. + +NIKITA. What's that to me? The money's hers--so let her look out. + +MATRYONA. Ah, sonny, how you look at it! How can a woman manage such +affairs? Even if she does get the money, is she capable of arranging +it all? One knows what a woman is! You're a man anyhow. You can hide +it, and all that. You see, you've after all got more sense, in case of +anything happening. + +NIKITA. Oh, your woman's notions are all so inexpedient! + +MATRYONA. Why inexpedient? You just collar the money, and the woman's +in your hands. And then should she ever turn snappish you'd be able to +tighten the reins! + +NIKITA. Bother you all,--I'm going. + +ANISYA (quite pale, runs out of the hut and round the corner to +MATRYONA). So it was, it was on him! Here it is! + + [Shows that she has something under her apron. + +MATRYONA. Give it to Nikita; he'll hide it. Nikita, take it and hide +it somewhere. + +NIKITA. All right, give here! + +ANISYA. O--oh, my poor head! No, I'd better do it myself. + + [Goes towards the gate. + +MATRYONA (seizing her by the arm). Where are you going to? You'll be +missed. There's the sister coming; give it him; he knows what to do. +Eh, you blockhead! + +ANISYA (stops irresolutely). Oh, my head, my head! + +NIKITA. Well, give it here. I'll shove it away somewhere. + +ANISYA. Where will you shove it to? + +NIKITA (laughing). Why, are you afraid? + + [Enter AKOULINA, carrying clothes from the wash. + +ANISYA. O--oh, my poor head! (Gives the money.) Mind, Nikita. + +NIKITA. What are you afraid of? I'll hide it so that I'll not be able +to find it myself. + + [Exit. + +ANISYA (stands in terror). Oh dear, and supposing he.... + +MATRYONA. Well, is he dead? + +ANISYA. Yes, he seems dead. He did not move when I took it. + +MATRYONA. Go in, there's Akoulina. + +ANISYA. Well there, I've done the sin and he has the money.... + +MATRYONA. Have done and go in! There's Martha coming! + +ANISYA. There now, I've trusted him. What's going to happen now? + + [Exit. + +Martha (enters from one side, AKOULINA enters from the other. To +AKOULINA). I should have come before, but I was at my daughter's. +Well, how's the old man? Is he dying? + +AKOULINA (puts down the clothes). Don't know; I've been to the river. + +Martha (pointing to MATRYONA). Who's that? + +MATRYONA. I'm from Zouevo. I'm Nikita's mother from Zouevo, my dearie. +Good afternoon to you. He's withering, withering away, poor dear--your +brother, I mean. He came out himself. "Send for my sister," he said, +"because," said he.... Dear me, why, I do believe he's dead! + +ANISYA (runs out screaming. Clings to a post, and begins wailing).[4] +Oh, oh, ah! who-o-o-o-m have you left me to, why-y-y have you +dese-e-e-e-rted me--a miserable widow ... to live my life alone.... +Why have you closed your bright eyes.... + + [Enter NEIGHBOR. MATRYONA and NEIGHBOR catch hold of ANISYA under + the arms to support her. AKOULINA and MARTHA go into the hut. A + crowd assembles. + +A VOICE IN THE CROWD. Send for the old women to lay out the body. + +MATRYONA (rolls up her sleeves). Is there any water in the copper? But +I daresay the samovar is still hot. I'll also go and help a bit. + +CURTAIN + + + + +ACT III + +The same hut. Winter. Nine months have passed since Act II. ANISYA, +plainly dressed, sits before a loom weaving. NAN is on the oven. + +MITRITCH (an old laborer, enters and slowly takes off his outdoor +things). Oh Lord, have mercy! Well, hasn't the master come home yet? + +ANISYA. What? + +MITRITCH. Nikita isn't back from town, is he? + +ANISYA. No. + +MITRITCH. Must have been on the spree. Oh Lord! + +ANISYA. Have you finished in the stackyard? + +MITRITCH. What d'you think? Got it all as it should be, and covered +everything with straw! I don't like doing things by halves! Oh Lord! +holy Nicholas! (Picks at the corns on his hands.) But it's time he was +back. + +ANISYA. What need has he to hurry? He's got money. Merry-making with +that girl, I daresay.... + +MITRITCH. Why shouldn't one make merry if one has the money? And why +did Akoulina go to town? + +ANISYA. You'd better ask her. How do I know what the devil took her +there! + +MITRITCH. What! to town? There's all sorts of things to be got in town +if one's got the means. Oh Lord! + +NAN. Mother, I heard myself. "I'll get you a little shawl," he says, +blest if he didn't; "you shall choose it yourself," he says. And she +got herself up so fine; she put on her velveteen coat and the French +shawl. + +ANISYA. Really, a girl's modesty reaches only to the door. Step over +the threshold and it's forgotten. She is a shameless creature. + +MITRITCH. Oh my! What's the use of being ashamed? While there's plenty +of money make merry. Oh Lord! It is too soon to have supper, eh? +(ANISYA does not answer.) I'll go and get warm meanwhile. (Climbs on +the stove.) Oh, Lord! Blessed Virgin Mother! Holy Nicholas! + +NEIGHBOR (enters). Seems your good man's not back yet? + +ANISYA. No. + +NEIGHBOR. It's time he was. Hasn't he perhaps stopped at our inn? My +sister, Thekla, says there's heaps of sledges standing there as have +come from the town. + +ANISYA. Nan! Nan, I say! + +NAN. Yes? + +ANISYA. You run to the inn and see! Mayhap, being drunk, he's gone +there. + +NAN (jumps down from the oven and dresses). All right. + +NEIGHBOR. And he's taken Akoulina with him? + +ANISYA. Else he'd not have had any need of going. It's because of her +he's unearthed all the business there. "Must go to the bank," he says; +"it's time to receive the payments," he says. But it's all her +fooling. + +NEIGHBOR (shakes her head). It's a bad look-out. + + [Silence. + +NAN (at the door). And if he's there, what am I to say? + +ANISYA. You only see if he's there. + +NAN. All right. I'll be back in a winking. + + [Long silence. + +MITRITCH (roars). Oh Lord! merciful Nicholas! + +NEIGHBOR (starting). Oh, how he scared me! Who is it? + +ANISYA. Why, Mitritch, our laborer. + +NEIGHBOR. Oh dear, oh dear, what a fright he did give me! I had quite +forgotten. But tell me, dear, I've heard some one's been wooing +Akoulina? + +ANISYA (gets up from the loom and sits down by the table). There was +some one from Dedlovo; but it seems the affair's got wind there too. +They made a start, and then stopped; so the thing fell through. Of +course, who'd care to? + +NEIGHBOR. And the Lizounofs from Zouevo? + +ANISYA. They made some steps too, but it didn't come off either. They +won't even see us. + +NEIGHBOR. Yet it's time she was married. + +ANISYA. Time and more than time! Ah, my dear, I'm that impatient to +get her out of the house; but the matter does not come off. He does +not wish it, nor she either. He's not yet had enough of his beauty, +you see. + +NEIGHBOR. Eh, eh, eh, what doings! Only think of it. Why, he's her +step-father! + +ANISYA. Ah, friend, they've taken me in completely. They've done me so +fine it's beyond saying. I, fool that I was, noticed nothing, +suspected nothing, and so I married him. I guessed nothing, but they +already understood one another. + +NEIGHBOR. Oh dear, what goings on! + +ANISYA. So it went on from bad to worse, and I see they begin hiding +from me. Ah, friend, I was that sick--that sick of my life! It's not +as if I didn't love him. + +NEIGHBOR. That goes without saying. + +ANISYA. Ah, how hard it is to bear such treatment from him! Oh, how it +hurts! + +NEIGHBOR. Yes, and I've heard say he's becoming too free with his +fists? + +ANISYA. And that too! There was a time when he was gentle when he'd +had a drop. He used to hit out before, but of me he was always fond! +But now when he's in a temper he goes for me and is ready to trample +me under his feet. The other day he got both my hands entangled in my +hair so that I could hardly get away. And the girl's worse than a +serpent; it's a wonder the earth bears such furies. + +NEIGHBOR. Ah, ah, my dear, now I look at you, you are a sufferer! To +suffer like that is no joke. To have given shelter to a beggar, and he +to lead you such a dance! Why don't you pull in the reins? + +ANISYA. Ah, but, my dear, if it weren't for my heart! Him as is gone +was stern enough, still I could twist him about any way I liked; but +with this one I can do nothing. As soon as I see him all my anger +goes. I haven't a grain of courage before him; I go about like a +drowned hen. + +NEIGHBOR. Ah, neighbor, you must be under a spell. I've heard that +Matryona goes in for that sort of thing. It must be her. + +ANISYA. Yes, dear; I think so myself sometimes. Gracious me, how hurt +I feel at times! I'd like to tear him to pieces. But when I set eyes +on him, my heart won't go against him. + +NEIGHBOR. It's plain you're bewitched. It don't take long to blight a +body. There now, when I look at you, what you have dwindled to! + +ANISYA. Growing a regular spindle-shanks. And just look at that fool +Akoulina. Wasn't the girl a regular untidy slattern, and just look at +her now! Where has it all come from? Yes, he has fitted her out. She's +grown so smart, so puffed up, just like a bubble that's ready to +burst. And, though she's a fool, she's got it into her head. "I'm the +mistress," she says; "the house is mine; it's me father wanted him to +marry." And she's that vicious! Lord help us, when she gets into a +rage she's ready to tear the thatch off the house. + +NEIGHBOR. Oh dear, what a life yours is, now I come to look at you. +And yet there's people envying you: "They're rich," they say; but it +seems that gold don't keep tears from falling. + +ANISYA. Much reason for envy indeed! And the riches, too, will soon be +made ducks and drakes of. Dear me, how he squanders money! + +NEIGHBOR. But how's it, dear, you've been so simple to give up the +money? It's yours. + +ANISYA. Ah, if you knew all! The thing is that I've made one little +mistake. + +NEIGHBOR. Well, if I were you, I'd go straight and have the law of +him. The money's yours; how dare he squander it? There's no such +rights. + +ANISYA. They don't pay heed to that nowadays. + +NEIGHBOR. Ah, my dear, now I come to look at you, you've got that +weak. Anisya. Yes, quite weak, dear, quite weak. He's got me into a +regular fix. I don't myself know anything. Oh, my poor head! + +NEIGHBOR (listening). There's some one coming, I think. + + [The door opens and AKIM enters. + +AKIM (crosses himself, knocks the snow off his feet, and takes off his +coat). Peace be to this house! How do you do? Are you well, daughter? + +ANISYA. How d'you do, father? Do you come straight from home? + +AKIM. I've been a-thinking I'll go and see what's name, go to see my +son, I mean,--my son. I didn't start early--had my dinner, I mean; I +went, and it's so what d'you call it--so snowy, hard walking, and so +there I'm what d'you call it--late, I mean. And my son--is he at home? +At home? My son, I mean. + +ANISYA. No; he's gone to the town. + +AKIM (sits down on a bench). I've some business with him, d'you see, +some business, I mean. I told him t'other day, told him I was in need +--told him, I mean, that our horse was done for, our horse, you see. So +we must what d'ye call it, get a horse, I mean, some kind of a horse, +I mean. So there, I've come, you see. + +ANISYA. Nikita told me. When he comes back you'll have a talk. (Goes +to the oven.) Have some supper now, and he'll soon come. Mitritch, eh, +Mitritch, come have your supper. + +MITRITCH. Oh Lord! merciful Nicholas! + +ANISYA. Come to supper. + +NEIGHBOR. I shall go now. Good-night. + + [Exit. + +MITRITCH (gets down from the oven). I never noticed how I fell asleep. +Oh, Lord! gracious Nicholas! How d'you do, Daddy Akim? + +AKIM. Ah, Mitritch! What are you, what d'ye call it, I mean?... + +MITRITCH. Why, I'm working for your son, Nikita. + +AKIM. Dear me! What d'ye call ... working for my son, I mean. Dear me! + +MITRITCH. I was living with a tradesman in town, but drank all I had +there. Now I've come back to the village. I've no home, so I've gone +into service. (Gapes.) Oh Lord! + +AKIM. But how's that, what d'you call it, or what's name, Nikita, what +does he do? Has he some business, I mean besides, that he should hire +a laborer, a laborer, I mean, hire a laborer? + +ANISYA. What business should he have? He used to manage, but now he's +other things on his mind, so he's hired a laborer. + +MITRITCH. Why shouldn't he, seeing he has money? + +AKIM. Now that's what d'you call it, that's wrong, I mean, quite +wrong, I mean. That's spoiling oneself. + +ANISYA. Oh, he has got spoilt, that spoilt, it's just awful. + +AKIM. There now, what d'you call it, one thinks how to make things +better, and it gets worse I mean. Riches spoil a man, spoil, I mean. + +MITRITCH. Fatness makes even a dog go mad; how's one not to get spoilt +by fat living? Myself now; how I went on with fat living. I drank for +three weeks without being sober. I drank my last breeches. When I had +nothing left, I gave it up. Now I've determined not to. Bother it! + +AKIM. And where's what d'you call, your old woman? + +MITRITCH. My old woman has found her right place, old fellow. She's +hanging about the gin-shops in town. She's a swell too; one eye +knocked out, and the other black, and her muzzle twisted to one side. +And she's never sober; drat her! + +AKIM. Oh, oh, oh, how's that? + +MITRITCH. And where's a soldier's wife to go? She has found her right +place. + + [Silence. + +AKIM (to ANISYA). And Nikita,--has he what d'you call it, taken +anything up to town? I mean, anything to sell? + +ANISYA (laying the table and serving up). No, he's taken nothing. He's +gone to get money from the bank. + +AKIM (sitting down to supper). Why? D'you wish to put it to another +use, the money I mean? + +ANISYA. No, we don't touch it. Only some twenty or thirty roubles as +have come due; they must be taken. + +AKIM. Must be taken. Why take it, the money I mean? You'll take some +to-day I mean, and some to-morrow; and so you'll what d'you call it, +take it all, I mean. + +ANISYA. We get this besides. The money is all safe. + +AKIM. All safe? How's that, safe? You take it, and it what d'you call +it, it's all safe. How's that? You put a heap of meal into a bin, or a +barn, I mean, and go on taking meal, will it remain there, what d'you +call it, all safe, I mean? That's, what d'you call it, it's cheating. +You'd better find out, or else they'll cheat you. Safe indeed! I mean +you what d'ye call ... you take it and it remains all safe there? + +ANISYA. I know nothing about it. Ivan Mosevitch advised us at the +time. "Put the money in the bank," he said, "the money will be safe, +and you'll get interest," he said. + +MITRITCH (having finished his supper). That's so. I've lived with a +tradesman. They all do like that. Put the money in the bank, then lie +down on the oven and it will keep coming in. + +AKIM. That's queer talk. How's that--what d'ye call, coming in, how's +that coming in, and they, who do they get it from I mean, the money I +mean? + +ANISYA. They take the money out of the bank. + +MITRITCH. Get along! Tain't a thing a woman can understand! You look +here, I'll make it all clear to you. Mind and remember. You see, +suppose you've got some money, and I, for instance, have spring coming +on, my land's idle, I've got no seeds, or I have to pay taxes. So, you +see, I go to you. "Akim," I say, "give us a ten-rouble note, and when +I've harvested in autumn I'll return it, and till two acres for you +besides, for having obliged me!" And you, seeing I've something to +fall back on--a horse say, or a cow--you say, "No, give two or three +roubles for the obligation," and there's an end of it. I'm stuck in +the mud, and can't do without. So I say, "All right!" and take a +tenner. In the autumn, when I've made my turnover, I bring it back, +and you squeeze the extra three roubles out of me. + +AKIM. Yes, but that's what peasants do when they what d'ye call it, +when they forget God. It's not honest, I mean, it's no good, I mean. + +MITRITCH. You wait. You'll see it comes just to the same thing. Now +don't forget how you've skinned me. And Anisya, say, has got some +money lying idle. She does not know what to do with it, besides, she's +a woman, and does not know how to use it. She comes to you. "Couldn't +you make some profit with my money too?" she says. "Why not?" say you, +and you wait. Before the summer I come again and say, "Give me another +tenner, and I'll be obliged." Then you find out if my hide isn't all +gone, and if I can be skinned again you give me Anisya's money. But +supposing I'm clean shorn,--have nothing to eat,--then you see I can't +be fleeced any more, and you say, "Go your way, friend," and you look +out for another, and lend him your own and Anisya's money and skin +him. That's what the bank is. So it goes round and round. It's a cute +thing, old fellow! + +AKIM (excitedly). Gracious me, whatever is that like? It's what d'ye +call it, it's filthy! The peasants--what d'ye call it, the peasants do +so I mean, and know it's, what d'ye call it, a sin! It's what d'you +call, not right, not right, I mean. It's filthy! How can people as +have learnt ... what d'ye call it.... + +MITRITCH. That, old fellow, is just what they're fond off And +remember, them that are stupid, or the women folk, as can't put their +money into use themselves, they take it to the bank, and they there, +deuce take 'em, clutch hold of it, and with this money they fleece the +people. It's a cute thing! + +AKIM (sighing). Oh dear, I see, what d'ye call it, without money it's +bad, and with money it's worse! How's that? God told us to work, but +you, what d'you call ... I mean you put money into the bank and go to +sleep, and the money will what d'ye call it, will feed you while you +sleep. It's filthy, that's what I call it; it's not right. + +MITRITCH. Not right? Eh, old fellow, who cares about that nowadays? And +how clean they pluck you, too! That's the fact of the matter. + +AKIM (sighs). Ah, yes, seems the time's what d'ye call it, the time's +growing ripe. There, I've had a look at the closets in town. What +they've come to! It's all polished and polished I mean, it's fine, +it's what d'ye call it, it's like inside an inn. And what's it all +for? What's the good of it? Oh, they've forgotten God. Forgotten, I +mean. We've forgotten, forgotten God, God, I mean! Thank you, my dear, +I've had enough. I'm quite satisfied. + + [Rises. MITRITCH climbs on to the oven. + +ANISYA (eats, and collects the dishes). If his father would only take +him to task! But I'm ashamed to tell him. + +AKIM. What d'you say? + +ANISYA. Oh! it's nothing. + + [Enter NAN. + +AKIM. Here's a good girl, always busy! You're cold, I should think? + +NAN. Yes, I am, terribly. How d'you do, grandfather? + +ANISYA. Well? Is he there? + +NAN. No. But Andriyan is there. He's been to town, and he says he saw +them at an inn in town. He says Dad's as drunk as drunk can be! + +ANISYA. Do you want anything to eat? Here you are. + +NAN (goes to the oven). Well, it is cold. My hands are quite numb. + + [AKIM takes off his leg-bands and bast-shoes. ANISYA washes up. + +ANISYA. Father! + +AKIM. Well, what is it? + +ANISYA. And is Marina living well? + +AKIM. Yes, she's living all right. The little woman is what d'ye call +it, clever and steady; she's living, and what d'ye call it, doing her +best. She's all right; the little woman's of the right sort I mean; +painstaking and what d'ye call it, submissive; the little woman's all +right I mean, all right, you know. + +ANISYA. And is there no talk in your village that a relative of +Marina's husband thinks of marrying our Akoulina? Have you heard +nothing of it? + +AKIM. Ah; that's Mironof. Yes, the women did chatter something. But I +didn't pay heed, you know. It don't interest me I mean, I don't know +anything. Yes, the old women did say something, but I've a bad memory, +bad memory, I mean. But the Mironofs are what d'ye call it, they're +all right, I mean they're all right. + +ANISYA. I'm that impatient to get her settled. + +AKIM. And why? + +NAN (listens). They've come! + +ANISYA. Well, don't you go bothering them. + + [Goes on washing the spoons without turning her head. + +NIKITA (enters). Anisya! Wife! who has come? + + [ANISYA looks up and turns away in silence. + +NIKITA (severely). Who has come? Have you forgotten? + +ANISYA. Now don't humbug. Come in! + +NIKITA (still more severely). Who's come? + +ANISYA (goes up and takes him by the arm). Well, then, husband has +come. Now then, come in! + +NIKITA (holds back). Ah, that's it! Husband! And what's husband +called? Speak properly. + +ANISYA. Oh bother you! Nikita! + +NIKITA. Where have you learnt manners? The full name. + +ANISYA. Nikita Akimitch! Now then! + +NIKITA. (still in the doorway). Ah, that's it! But now--the surname? + +ANISYA (laughs and pulls him by the arm). Tchilikin. Dear me, what +airs! + +NIKITA. Ah, that's it. (Holds on to the door-post.) No, now say with +which foot Tchilikin steps into this house! + +ANISYA. That's enough! You're letting the cold in! + +NIKITA. Say with which foot he steps? You've got to say it,--that's +flat. + +ANISYA (aside). He'll go on worrying. (To NIKITA.) Well then, with the +left. Come in! + +NIKITA. Ah, that's it. + +ANISYA. You look who's in the hut! + +NIKITA. Ah, my parent! Well, what of that? I'm not ashamed of my +parent. I can pay my respects to my parent. How d'you do, father? +(Bows and puts out his hand.) My respects to you. + +AKIM (does not answer). Drink, I mean drink, what it does! It's +filthy! + +NIKITA. Drink, what's that? I've been drinking? I'm to blame, that's +flat! I've had a glass with a friend, drank his health. + +ANISYA. Go and lie down, I say. + +NIKITA. Wife, say where am I standing? + +ANISYA. Now then, it's all right, lie down! + +NIKITA. No, I'll first drink a samovar with my parent. Go and light +the samovar. Akoulina, I say, come here! + + [Enter AKOULINA, smartly dressed and carrying their purchases. + +AKOULINA. Why have you thrown everything about? Where's the yarn? + +NIKITA. The yarn? The yarn's there. Hullo, Mitritch, where are you? +Asleep? Asleep? Go and put the horse up. + +AKIM (not seeing AKOULINA but looking at his son). Dear me, what is he +doing? The old man's what d'ye call it, quite done up, I mean,--been +thrashing,--and look at him, what d'ye call it, putting on airs! Put +up the horse! Faugh, what filth! + +MITRITCH (climbs down from the oven, and puts on felt boots). Oh, +merciful Lord! Is the horse in the yard? Done it to death, I dare say. +Just see how he's been swilling, the deuce take him. Up to his very +throat. Oh Lord, Holy Nicholas! + + [Puts on sheepskin and exit. + +NIKITA (sits down). You must forgive me, father. It's true I've had a +drop; well, what of that? Even a hen will drink. Ain't it true? So you +must forgive me. Never mind Mitritch, he doesn't mind, he'll put it +up. + +ANISYA. Shall I really light the samovar? + +NIKITA. Light it! My parent has come. I wish to talk to him, and shall +drink tea with him. (To AKOULINA.) Have you brought all the parcels? + +AKOULINA. The parcels? I've brought mine, the rest's in the sledge. +Hi, take this, this isn't mine! + + [Throws a parcel on the table and puts the others into her box. + NAN watches her while she puts them away. AKIM does not look at + his son, but puts his leg-bands and bast-shoes on the oven. + +ANISYA (going out with the samovar). Her box is full as it is, and +still he's bought more! + +NIKITA (pretending to be sober). You must not be cross with me, +father. You think I'm drunk? I am all there, that's flat! As they say, +"Drink, but keep your wits about you." I can talk with you at once, +father. I can attend to any business. You told me about the money; +your horse is worn-out,--I remember! That can all be managed. That's +all in our hands. If it was an enormous sum that's wanted, then we +might wait; but as it is I can do everything. That's the case. + +AKIM (goes on fidgeting with the leg-bands). Eh, lad, "It's ill +sledging when the thaw has set in." + +NIKITA. What do you mean by that? "And it's ill talking with one who +is drunk?" But don't you worry, let's have some tea. And I can do +anything; that's flat! I can put everything to rights. + +AKIM (shakes his head). Eh, eh, eh! + +NIKITA. The money, here it is. (Puts his hand in his pocket, pulls out +pocket-book, handles the notes in it and takes out a ten-rouble +note.) Take this to get a horse; I can't forget my parent. I shan't +forsake him, that's flat. Because he's my parent! Here you are, take +it! Really now, I don't grudge it. (Comes up and pushes the note +towards AKIM, who won't take it. NIKITA catches hold of his father's +hand.) Take it, I tell you. I don't grudge it. + +AKIM. I can't what d'you call it, I mean, can't take it! And can't +what d'ye call it, talk to you, because you're not yourself, I mean. + +NIKITA. I'll not let you go! Take it! + + [Puts the money into AKIM'S hand. + +ANISYA (enters, and stops). You'd better take it, he'll give you no +peace! + +AKIM (takes it, and shakes his head). Oh! that liquor. Not like a man, +I mean! + +NIKITA. That's better! If you repay it you'll repay it, if not I'll +make no bother. That's what I am! (Sees AKOULINA.) Akoulina, show your +presents. + +AKOULINA. What? + +NIKITA. Show your presents. + +AKOULINA. The presents, what's the use of showing 'em? I've put 'em +away. + +NIKITA. Get them, I tell you. Nan will like to see 'em. Undo the +shawl. Give it here. + +AKIM. Oh, oh! It's sickening! + + [Climbs on the oven. + +AKOULINA (gets out the parcels and puts them on the table). Well, +there you are,--what's the good of looking at 'em? + +NAN. Oh how lovely! It's as good as Stepanida's. + +AKOULINA. Stepanida's? What's Stepanida's compared to this? +(Brightening up and undoing the parcels.) Just look here,--see the +quality! It's a French one. + +NAN. The print is fine! Mary has a dress like it, only lighter on a +blue ground. This is pretty. + +NIKITA. Ah, that's it! + + [ANISYA passes angrily into the closet, returns with a tablecloth + and the chimney of the Samovar, and goes up to the table. + +ANISYA. Drat you, littering the table! + +NIKITA. You look here! + +ANISYA. What am I to look at? Have I never seen anything? Put it away! + + [Sweeps the shawl on to the floor with her arm. + +AKOULINA. What are you pitching things down for? You pitch your own +things about! + + [Picks up the shawl. + +NIKITA. Anisya! Look here! + +ANISYA. Why am I to look? + +NIKITA. You think I have forgotten you? Look here! (Shows her a parcel +and sits down on it.) It's a present for you. Only you must earn it! +Wife, where am I sitting? + +ANISYA. Enough of your humbug. I'm not afraid of you. Whose money are +you spreeing on and buying your fat wench presents with? Mine! + +AKOULINA. Yours indeed? No fear! You wished to steal it, but it did +not come off! Get out of the way! + + [Pushes her while trying to pass. + +ANISYA. What are you shoving for? I'll teach you to shove! + +AKOULINA. Shove me? You try! + + [Presses against ANISYA. + +NIKITA. Now then, now then, you women. Have done now! + + [Steps between them. + +AKOULINA. Comes shoving herself in! You ought to keep quiet and +remember your doings! You think no one knows! + +ANISYA. Knows what? Out with it, out with it! What do they know? + +AKOULINA. I know something about you! + +ANISYA. You're a slut who goes with another's husband! + +AKOULINA. And you did yours to death! + +ANISYA (throwing herself on AKOULINA). You're raving! + +NIKITA (holding her back). Anisya, you seem to have forgotten! + +ANISYA. Want to frighten me! I'm not afraid of you! + +NIKITA (turns ANISYA round and pushes her out). Be off! + +ANISYA. Where am I to go? I'll not go out of my own house! + +NIKITA. Be off, I tell you, and don't dare to come in here! + +ANISYA. I won't go! (NIKITA pushes her, ANISYA cries and screams and +clings to the door.) What! am I to be turned out of my own house by +the scruff of the neck? What are you doing, you scoundrel? Do you +think there's no law for you? You wait a bit! + +NIKITA. Now then! + +ANISYA. I'll go to the Elder! To the policeman! + +NIKITA. Off, I tell you! + + [Pushes her out. + +ANISYA (behind the door). I'll hang myself! + +NIKITA. No fear! + +NAN. Oh, oh, oh! Mother, dear, darling! + + [Cries. + +NIKITA. Me frightened of her! A likely thing! What are you crying for? +She'll come back, no fear. Go and see to the samovar. + + [Exit NAN. + +AKOULINA (collects and folds her presents). The mean wretch, how she's +messed it up. But wait a bit, I'll cut up her jacket for her! Sure I +will! + +NIKITA. I've turned her out; what more do you want? + +AKOULINA. She's dirtied my new shawl. If that bitch hadn't gone away, +I'd have torn her eyes out! + +NIKITA. That's enough. Why should you be angry? Now if I loved her.... + +AKOULINA. Loved her? She's worth loving, with her fat mug! If you'd +have given her up, then nothing would have happened. You should have +sent her to the devil. And the house was mine all the same, and the +money was mine! Says she is the mistress, but what sort of mistress is +she to her husband? She's a murderess, that's what she is! She'll +serve you the same way! + +NIKITA. Oh dear, how's one to stop a woman's jaw? You don't yourself +know what you're jabbering about! + +AKOULINA. Yes, I do. I'll not live with her! I'll turn her out of the +house! She can't live here with me. The mistress indeed! She's not the +mistress,--that jailbird! + +NIKITA. That's enough! What have you to do with her? Don't mind her. +You look at me! I am the master! I do as I like. I've ceased to love +her, and now I love you. I love who I like! The power is mine, she's +under me. That's where I keep her. (Points to his feet.) A pity we've +no concertina. + + [Sings. + +"We have loaves on the stoves, We have porridge on the shelf. So we'll +live and be gay, Making merry every day, And when death comes, Then +we'll die! We have loaves on the stoves, We have porridge on the +shelf...." + + [Enter MITRITCH. He takes off his outdoor things and climbs on + the oven. + +MITRITCH. Seems the women have been fighting again! Tearing each +other's hair. Oh Lord, gracious Nicholas! + +AKIM. (sitting on the edge of the oven, takes his leg-bands and shoes +and begins putting them on). Get in, get into the corner. + +MITRITCH. Seems they can't settle matters between them. Oh Lord! + +NIKITA. Get out the liquor, we'll have some with our tea. + +NAN (to AKOULINA). Sister, the samovar is just boiling over. + +NIKITA. And where's your mother? + +NAN. She's standing and crying out there in the passage. + +NIKITA. Oh, that's it! Call her, and tell her to bring the samovar. +And you, Akoulina, get the tea things. + +AKOULINA. The tea things? All right. + + [Brings the things. + +NIKITA (unpacks spirits, rusks, and salt herrings). That's for myself. +This is yarn for the wife. The paraffin is out there in the passage, +and here's the money. Wait a bit (takes a counting-frame); I'll add it +up. (Adds.) Wheat-flour, 80 kopeykas, oil ... Father, 10 roubles ... +Father, come let's have some tea! + + [Silence. AKIM sits on the oven and winds the bands round his + legs. Enter ANISYA with samovar. + +ANISYA. Where shall I put it? + +NIKITA. Here on the table. Well! have you been to the Elder? Ah, +that's it! Have your say and then eat your words. Now then, that's +enough. Don't be cross; sit down and drink this. (Fills a wine-glass +for her.) And here's your present. + + [Gives her the parcel he had been sitting on. ANISYA takes it + silently and shakes her head. + +AKIM (gets down and puts on his sheepskin, then comes up to the table +and puts down the money). Here, take your money back! Put it away. + +NIKITA (does not see the money). Why have you put on your things? + +AKIM. I'm going, going, I mean; forgive me, for the Lord's sake. + + [Takes up his cap and belt. + +NIKITA. My gracious! Where are you going to at this time of night? + +AKIM. I can't, I mean what d'ye call 'em, in your house, what d'ye +call 'em, can't stay I mean, stay, can't stay, forgive me. + +NIKITA. But are you going without having any tea? + +AKIM (fastens his belt). Going because, I mean, it's not right in your +house, I mean, what d'you call it, not right, Nikita, in the house, +what d'ye call it, not right! I mean, you are living a bad life, +Nikita, bad,--I'll go. + +NIKITA. Eh, now! Have done talking! Sit down and drink your tea! + +ANISYA. Why, father, you'll shame us before the neighbors. What has +offended you? + +AKIM. Nothing what d'ye call it, nothing has offended me, nothing at +all! I mean only, I see, what d'you call it, I mean, I see my son, to +ruin, I mean, to ruin, I mean my son's on the road to ruin, I mean. + +NIKITA. What ruin? Just prove it! + +AKIM. Ruin, ruin; you're in the midst of it! What did I tell you that +time? + +NIKITA. You said all sorts of things! Akim. I told you, what d'ye call +it, I told you about the orphan lass. That you had wronged an orphan-- +Marina, I mean, wronged her! + +NIKITA. Eh! he's at it again. Let bygones be bygones.... All that's +past! + +AKIM (excited). Past! No, lad, it's not past. Sin, I mean, fastens on +to sin--drags sin after it, and you've stuck fast, Nikita, fast in +sin! Stuck fast in sin! I see you're fast in sin. Stuck fast, sunk in +sin, I mean! + +NIKITA. Sit down and drink your tea, and have done with it! + +AKIM. I can't, I mean can't what d'ye call it, can't drink tea. +Because of your filth, I mean; I feel what d'ye call it, I feel sick, +very sick! I can't what d'ye call it, I can't drink tea with you. + +NIKITA. Eh! There he goes rambling! Come to the table. + +AKIM. You're in your riches same as in a net--you're in a net, I mean. +Ah, Nikita, it's the soul that God needs! + +NIKITA. Now really, what right have you to reprove me in my own house? +Why do you keep on at me? Am I a child that you can pull by the hair? +Nowadays those things have been dropped! + +AKIM. That's true. I have heard that nowadays, what d'ye call it, that +nowadays children pull their fathers' beards, I mean! But that's ruin, +that's ruin, I mean! + +NIKITA (angrily). We are living without help from you, and it's you +who came to us with your wants! + +AKIM. The money? There's your money! I'll go begging, begging I mean, +before I'll take it, I mean. + +NIKITA. That's enough! Why be angry and upset the whole company! + + [Holds him by the arm. + +AKIM (shrieks). Let go! I'll not stay. I'd rather sleep under some +fence than in the midst of your filth! Faugh! God forgive me! + + [Exit. + +NIKITA. Here's a go! + +AKIM (reopens the door). Come to your senses, Nikita! It's the soul +that God wants! + + [Exit. + +AKOULINA (takes cups). Well, shall I pour out the tea? + + [Takes a cup. All are silent. + +MITRITCH (roars). Oh Lord be merciful to me a sinner! + + [All start. + +NIKITA (lies down on the bench). Oh, it's dull, it's dull! (To +AKOULINA.) Where's the concertina? + +AKOULINA. The concertina? He's bethought himself of it. Why, you took +it to be mended. I've poured out your tea. Drink it! + +NIKITA. I don't want it! Put out the light.... Oh, how dull I feel, +how dull! + + [Sobs. + +CURTAIN + + + + +ACT IV + +Autumn. Evening. The moon is shining. The stage represents the +interior of courtyard. The scenery at the back shows, in the middle, +the back porch of the hut. To the right the winter half of the hut and +the gate; to the left the summer half and the cellar. To the right of +the stage is a shed. The sound of tipsy voices and shouts are heard +from the hut.[5] SECOND NEIGHBOR WOMAN comes out of the hut and +beckons to FIRST NEIGHBOR WOMAN. + +SECOND NEIGHBOR. How's it Akoulina has not shown herself? + +FIRST NEIGHBOR. Why hasn't she shown herself? She'd have been glad to; +but she's too ill, you know. The suitor's relatives have come, and +want to see the girl; and she, my dear, she's lying in the cold hut +and can't come out, poor thing! + +SECOND NEIGHBOR. But how's that? + +FIRST NEIGHBOR. They say she's been bewitched by an evil eye! She's +got pains in the stomach! + +SECOND NEIGHBOR. You don't say so? + +FIRST NEIGHBOR. What else could it be? + + [Whispers. + +SECOND NEIGHBOR. Dear me! There's a go! But his relatives will surely +find it out? + +FIRST NEIGHBOR. They find it out! They're all drunk! Besides, they are +chiefly after her dowry. Just think what they give with the girl! Two +furs, my dear, six dresses, a French shawl, and I don't know how many +pieces of linen, and money as well,--two hundred roubles, it's said! + +SECOND NEIGHBOR. That's all very well, but even money can't give much +pleasure in the face of such a disgrace. + +FIRST NEIGHBOR. Hush!... There's his father, I think. + + [They cease talking and go into the hut. + + [The SUITOR'S FATHER comes out of the hut hiccoughing. + +THE FATHER. Oh, I'm all in a sweat. It's awfully hot! Will just cool +myself a bit. (Stands puffing.) The Lord only knows what--something +is not right. I can't feel happy.--Well, it's the old woman's affair. + + [Enter MATRYONA from hut. + +MATRYONA. And I was just thinking, where's the father? Where's the +father? And here you are, dear friend.... Well, dear friend, the Lord +be thanked! Everything is as honorable as can be! When one's arranging +a match one should not boast. And I have never learnt to boast. But as +you've come about the right business, so with the Lord's help, you'll +be grateful to me all your life! She's a wonderful girl! There's no +other like her in all the district! + +THE FATHER. That's true enough, but how about the money? + +MATRYONA. Don't you trouble about the money! All she had from her +father goes with her. And it's more than one gets easily, as things +are nowadays. Three times fifty roubles! + +THE FATHER. We don't complain, but it's for our own child. Naturally +we want to get the best we can. + +MATRYONA. I'll tell you straight, friend: if it hadn't been for me, +you'd never have found anything like her! They've had an offer from +the Karmilins, but I stood out against it. And as for the money, I'll +tell you truly: when her father, God be merciful to his soul, was +dying, he gave orders that the widow should take Nikita into the +homestead--of course I know all about it from my son,--and the money +was to go to Akoulina. Why, another one might have thought of his own +interests, but Nikita gives everything clean! It's no trifle. Fancy +what a sum it is! + +THE FATHER. People are saying that more money was left her? The lad's +sharp too! + +MATRYONA. Oh, dear soul alive! A slice in another's hand always looks +big; all she had will be handed over. I tell you, throw doubts to the +wind and make all sure! What a girl she is! as fresh as a daisy! + +THE FATHER. That's so. But my old woman and I were only wondering +about the girl; why has she not come out? We've been thinking, suppose +she's sickly? + +MATRYONA. Ah, ah.... Who? She? Sickly? Why, there's none to compare +with her in the district. The girl's as sound as a bell; you can't +pinch her. But you saw her the other day! And as for work, she's +wonderful! She's a bit deaf, that's true, but there are spots on the +sun, you know. And her not coming out, you see, it's from an evil eye! +A spell's been cast on her! And I know the bitch who's done the +business! They know of the betrothal and they bewitched her. But I +know a counter-spell. The girl will get up to-morrow. Don't you worry +about the girl! + +THE FATHER. Well, of course, the thing's settled. + +MATRYONA. Yes, of course! Don't you turn back. And don't forget me, +I've had a lot of trouble. Don't forget.... + + [A woman's voice from the hut. + +Voice. If we are to go, let's go. Come along, Ivan! + +THE FATHER. I'm coming. + + [Exeunt. Guests crowd together in the passage and prepare to go + away. + +NAN (runs out of the hut and calls to ANISYA). Mother! + +ANISYA (from inside.) What d'you want? + +NAN. Mother, come here, or they'll hear. + + [ANISYA enters and they go together to the shed. + +ANISYA. Well? What is it? Where's Akoulina? + +NAN She's gone into the barn. It's awful what's she's doing there! I'm +blest! "I can't bear it," she says. "I'll scream," she says, "I'll +scream out loud." Blest if she didn't. + +ANISYA. She'll have to wait. We'll see our visitors off first. + +NAN. Oh, mother! She's so bad! And she's angry too. "What's the good +of their drinking my health?" she says. "I shan't marry," she says. "I +shall die," she says. Mother, supposing she does die! It's awful. I'm +so frightened! + +ANISYA. No fear, she'll not die. But don't you go near her. Come +along. + + [Exit ANISYA and NAN. + +MITRITCH (comes in at the gate and begins collecting the scattered +hay). Oh, Lord! Merciful Nicholas! What a lot of liquor they've been +and swilled, and the smell they've made! It smells even out here! But +no, I don't want any, drat it! See how they've scattered the hay +about. They don't eat it, but only trample it under foot. A truss gone +before you know it. Oh, that smell, it seems to be just under my nose! +Drat it! (Yawns.) It's time to go to sleep! But I don't care to go +into the hut. It seems to float just round my nose! It has a strong +scent, the damned stuff! (The guests are heard driving off.) They're +off at last. Oh Lord! Merciful Nicholas! There they go, binding +themselves and gulling one another. And it's all gammon! + + [Enter NIKITA. + +NIKITA. Mitritch, you get off to sleep and I'll put this straight. + +MITRITCH. All right, you throw it to the sheep. Well, have you seen +'em all off? + +NIKITA. Yes, they're off! But things are not right! I don't know what +to do! + +MITRITCH. It's a fine mess. But there's the Foundlings'[6] for that +sort of thing. Whoever likes may drop one there; they'll take 'em all. +Give 'em as many as you like, they ask no questions, and even pay--if +the mother goes in as a wet-nurse. It's easy enough nowadays. + +NIKITA. But mind, Mitritch, don't go blabbing. + +MITRITCH. It's no concern of mine. Cover the tracks as you think best. +Dear me, how you smell of liquor! I'll go in. Oh, Lord! + + [Exit, yawning. + + [NIKITA is long silent. Sits down on a sledge. + +NIKITA. Here's a go! + + [Enter ANISYA. + +ANISYA. Where are you? + +NIKITA. Here. + +ANISYA. What are you doing there? There's no time to be lost! We must +take it out directly! + +NIKITA. What are we to do? + +ANISYA. I'll tell you what you are to do. And you'll have to do it! + +NIKITA. You'd better take it to the Foundlings'--if anything. + +ANISYA. Then you'd better take it there yourself if you like! You've a +hankering for smut, but you're weak when it comes to settling up, I +see! + +NIKITA. What's to be done? + +ANISYA. Go down into the cellar, I tell you, and dig a hole! + +NIKITA. Couldn't you manage, somehow, some other way? + +ANISYA (imitating him). "Some other way?" Seems we can't "some other +way!" You should have thought about it a year ago. Do what you're told +to! Nikita. Oh, dear, what a go! + + [Enter NAN. + +NAN. Mother! Grandmother's calling! I think sister's got a baby! I'm +blest if it didn't scream! + +ANISYA. What are you babbling about? Plague take you! It's kittens +whining there. Go into the hut and sleep, or I'll give it you! + +NAN. Mammy dear, truly, I swear.... + +ANISYA (raising her arm as if to strike). I'll give it you! You be off +and don't let me catch sight of you! (Nan runs into hut. To Nikita.) +Do as you're told, or else mind! + + [Exit. + +NIKITA (alone. After a long silence). Here's a go! Oh, these women! +What a fix! Says you should have thought of it a year ago. When's one +to think beforehand? When's one to think? Why, last year this Anisya +dangled after me. What was I to do? Am I a monk? The master died; and +I covered my sin as was proper, so I was not to blame there. Aren't +there lots of such cases? And then those powders. Did I put her up to +that? Why, had I known what the bitch was up to, I'd have killed her! +I'm sure I should have killed her! She's made me her partner in these +horrors--that jade! And she became loathsome to me from that day! She +became loathsome, loathsome to me as soon as mother told me about it. +I can't bear the sight of her! Well, then, how could I live with her? +And then it begun.... That wench began hanging round. Well, what was I +to do! If I had not done it, some one else would. And this is what +comes of it! Still I'm not to blame in this either. Oh, what a go! +(Sits thinking.) They are bold, these women! What a plan to think of! +But I won't have a hand in it! + + [Enter MATRYONA with a lantern and spade, panting. + +MATRYONA. Why are you sitting there like a hen on a perch? What did +your wife tell you to do? You just get things ready! + +NIKITA. What do you mean to do? + +MATRYONA. We know what to do. You do your share! + +NIKITA. You'll be getting me into a mess! + +MATRYONA. What? You're not thinking of backing out, are you? Now it's +come to this, and you back out! + +NIKITA. Think what a thing it would be! It's a living soul. + +MATRYONA. A living soul indeed! Why, it's more dead than alive. And +what's one to do with it? Go and take it to the Foundlings'--it will +die just the same, and the rumor will get about, and people will talk, +and the girl be left on our hands. + +NIKITA. And supposing it's found out? + +MATRYONA. Not manage to do it in one's own house? We'll manage it so +that no one will have an inkling. Only do as I tell you. We women +can't do it without a man. There, take the spade, and get it done +there,--I'll hold the light. + +NIKITA. What am I to get done? + +MATRYONA (in a low voice). Dig a hole; then we'll bring it out and get +it out of the way in a trice! There, she's calling again. Now then, +get in, and I'll go. + +NIKITA. Is it dead then? + +MATRYONA. Of course it is. Only you must be quick, or else people will +notice! They'll see or they'll hear! The rascals must needs know +everything. And the policeman went by this evening. Well then, you see +(gives him the spade), you get down into the cellar and dig a hole +right in the corner; the earth is soft there, and you'll smooth it +over. Mother earth will not blab to any one; she'll keep it close. Go +then; go, dear. + +NIKITA. You'll get me into a mess, bother you! I'll go away! You do it +alone as best you can! + +ANISYA (through the doorway). Well? Has he dug it? + +MATRYONA. Why have you come away? What have you done with it? + +ANISYA. I've covered it with rags. No one can hear it. Well, has he +dug it? + +MATRYONA. He doesn't want to! + +ANISYA (springs out enraged). Doesn't want to! How will he like +feeding vermin in prison! I'll go straight away and tell everything to +the police! It's all the same if one must perish. I'll go straight and +tell! + +NIKITA (taken aback). What will you tell? + +ANISYA. What? Everything! Who took the money? You! (NIKITA is silent.) +And who gave the poison? I did! But you knew! You knew! You knew! We +were in agreement! + +MATRYONA. That's enough now. Nikita dear, why are you obstinate? +What's to be done now? One must take some trouble. Go, honey. + +ANISYA. See the fine gentleman! He doesn't like it! You've put upon me +long enough! You've trampled me under foot! Now it's my turn! Go, I +tell you, or else I'll do what I said.... There, take the spade; +there, now go! + +NIKITA. Drat you! Can't you leave a fellow alone! (Takes the spade, +but shrinks.) If I don't choose to, I'll not go! + +ANISYA. Not go? (Begins to shout.) Neighbors! Heh! heh! + +MATRYONA (closes her mouth). What are you about? You're mad! He'll +go.... Go, sonny, go, my own. + +ANISYA. I'll cry murder! + +NIKITA. Now stop! Oh, what people! You'd better be quick.... As well +be hung for a sheep as a lamb! + + [Goes towards the cellar. + +MATRYONA. Yes, that's just it, honey. If you know how to amuse +yourself, you must know how to hide the consequences. + +ANISYA (still excited). He's trampled on me ... he and his slut! But +it's enough! I'm not going to be the only one! Let him also be a +murderer! Then he'll know how it feels! + +MATRYONA. There, there! How she flares up! Don't you be cross, lass, +but do things quietly little by little, as it's best. You go to the +girl, and he'll do the work. + + [Follows NIKITA to the cellar with a lantern. He descends into + the cellar. + +ANISYA. And I'll make him strangle his dirty brat! (Still excited.) +I've worried myself to death all alone, with Peter's bones weighing on +my mind! Let him feel it too! I'll not spare myself; I've said I'll +not spare myself! + +NIKITA (from the cellar). Show a light! + +MATRYONA (holds up the lantern to him. To ANISYA). He's digging. Go +and bring it. + +ANISYA. You stay with him, or he'll go away, the wretch! And I'll go +and bring it. + +MATRYONA. Mind, don't forget to baptize it, or I will if you like. +Have you a cross? + +ANISYA. I'll find one. I know how to do it. + + [Exit. + + * * * * * + +See at end of Act, VARIATION, which may be used instead of the +following. + + * * * * * + +MATRYONA. How the woman bristled up! But one must allow she's been put +upon. Well, but with the Lord's help, when we've covered this +business, there'll be an end of it. We'll shove the girl off without +any trouble. My son will live in comfort. The house, thank God, is as +full as an egg. They'll not forget me either. Where would they have +been without Matryona? They'd not have known how to contrive things. +(Peering into the cellar.) Is it ready, sonny? Nikita (puts out his +head). What are you about there? Bring it quick! What are you dawdling +for? If it is to be done, let it be done. + +MATRYONA (goes towards door of the hut and meets ANISYA. ANISYA comes +out with a baby wrapped in rags). Well, have you baptized it? + +ANISYA. Why, of course. It was all I could do to take it away--she +wouldn't give it up! + + [Comes forward and hands it to NIKITA. + +NIKITA (does not take it). You bring it yourself! + +ANISYA. Take it, I tell you! + + [Throws the baby to him. + +NIKITA (catches it). It's alive! Gracious me, it's moving! It's alive! +What am I to.... + +ANISYA (snatches the baby from him and throws it into the cellar). Be +quick and smother it, and then it won't be alive! (Pushes NIKITA +down.) It's your doing, and you must finish it. + +MATRYONA (sits on the doorstep of the hut). He's tender-hearted. It's +hard on him, poor dear. Well, what of that? Isn't it also his sin? + + [ANISYA stands by the cellar. + +MATRYONA (sits looking at her and discourses). Oh, oh, oh! How +frightened he was: well, but what of that? If it is hard, it's the +only thing to be done. Where was one to put it? And just think, how +often it happens that people pray to God to have children! But no, God +gives them none; or they are all still-born. Look at our priest's wife +now.... And here, where it's not wanted, here it lives. (Looks towards +the cellar.) I suppose he's finished. (To ANISYA.) Well? + +ANISYA (looking into the cellar). He's put a board on it and is +sitting on it. It must be finished! + +MATRYONA. Oh, oh! One would be glad not to sin, but what's one to do? + + [Re-enter NIKITA from cellar, trembling all over. + +NIKITA. It's still alive! I can't! It's alive! + +ANISYA. If it's alive, where are you off to? + + [Tries to stop him. + +NIKITA (rushes at her). Go away! I'll kill you! (Catches hold of her +arms; she escapes, he runs after her with the spade. MATRYONA runs +towards him and stops him. ANISYA runs into the porch. MATRYONA tries +to wrench the spade from him. To his mother.) I'll kill you! I'll kill +you! Go away! (MATRYONA runs to ANISYA in the porch. NIKITA stops.) +I'll kill you! I'll kill you all! + +MATRYONA. That's because he's so frightened! Never mind, it will pass! + +NIKITA. What have they made me do? What have they made me do? How it +whimpered.... How it crunched under me! What have they done with +me?... And it's really alive, still alive! (Listens in silence.) It's +whimpering... There, it's whimpering. + + [Runs to the cellar. + +MATRYONA (to ANISYA). He's going; it seems he means to bury it. +Nikita, you'd better take the lantern! + +NIKITA (does not heed her, but listens by the cellar door). I can hear +nothing! I suppose it was fancy! (Moves away, then stops.) How the +little bones crunched under me. Krr ... kr.... What have they made me +do? (Listens again.) Again whimpering! It's really whimpering! What +can it be? Mother! Mother, I say! + + [Goes up to her. + +MATRYONA. What is it, sonny? + +NIKITA. Mother, my own mother, I can't do any more! Can't do any more! +My own mother, have some pity on me! + +MATRYONA. Oh dear, how frightened you are, my darling! Come, come, +drink a drop to give you courage! + +NIKITA. Mother, mother! It seems my time has come! What have you done +with me? How the little bones crunched, and how it whimpered! My own +mother! What have you done with me? + + [Steps aside and sits down on the sledge. + +MATRYONA. Come, my own, have a drink! It certainly does seem uncanny +at night-time. But wait a bit. When the day breaks, you know, and one +day and another passes, you'll forget even to think of it. Wait a bit; +when the girl's married we'll even forget to think of it. But you go +and have a drink; have a drink! I'll go and put things straight in the +cellar myself. + +NIKITA (rouses himself). Is there any drink left? Perhaps I can drink +it off! + + [Exit. + + [ANISYA, who has stood all the time by the door, silently makes + way for him. + +MATRYONA. Go, go, honey, and I'll set to work! I'll go down myself and +dig! Where has he thrown the spade to? (Finds the spade, and goes down +into the cellar.) Anisya, come here! Hold the light, will you? + +ANISYA. And what of him? + +MATRYONA. He's so frightened! You've been too hard with him. Leave him +alone, he'll come to his senses. God help him! I'll set to work +myself. Put the lantern down here. I can see. + + [MATRYONA disappears into the cellar. + +ANISYA. (looking towards the door by which Nikita entered the hut). +Well, have you had enough spree? You've been puffing yourself up, but +now you'll know how it feels! You'll lose some of your bluster! + +NIKITA (rushes out of the hut towards the cellar). Mother! Mother, I +say! + +MATRYONA (puts out her head). What is it, sonny? + +NIKITA (listening) Don't bury it, it's alive? Don't you hear? Alive! +There--it's whimpering! There ... quite plain! + +MATRYONA. How can it whimper? Why, you've flattened it into a pancake! +The whole head is smashed to bits! + +NIKITA. What is it then? (Stops his ears.) It's still whimpering! I am +lost! Lost! What have they done with me?... Where shall I go? + + [Sits down on the step. + +CURTAIN + + * * * * * + +VARIATION + +Instead of the end of Act IV. (from the words, "ANISYA. I'll find one. +I know how to do it. [Exit]") the following variation may be read, and +is the one usually acted. + + * * * * * + +SCENE II + +The interior of the hut as in Act I. + +NAN lies on the bench, and is covered with a coat. MITRITCH is sitting +on the oven smoking. + +MITRITCH. Dear me! How they've made the place smell I Drat 'em! +They've been spilling the fine stuff. Even tobacco don't get rid of +the smell! It keeps tickling one's nose so. Oh Lord! But it's bedtime, +I guess. + + [Approaches the lamp to put it out. + +NAN (jumps up, and remains sitting up). Daddy dear,[7] don't put it +out! + +MITRITCH. Not put it out? Why? + +NAN. Didn't you hear them making a row in the yard? (Listens.) D'you +hear, there in the barn again now? + +MITRITCH. What's that to you? I guess no one's asked you to mind! Lie +down and sleep! And I'll turn down the light. + + [Turns down lamp. + +NAN. Daddy darling! Don't put it right out; leave a little bit if only +as big as a mouse's eye, else it's so frightening! + +MITRITCH (laughs). All right, all right. (Sits down by her.) What's +there to be afraid of? + +NAN. How can one help being frightened, daddy! Sister did go on so! +She was beating her head against the box! (Whispers.) You know, I know +... a little baby is going to be born.... It's already born, I +think.... + +MITRITCH. Eh, what a little busybody it is! May the frogs tick her! +Must needs know everything. Lie down and sleep! (NAN lies down.) +That's right! (Tucks her up.) That's right! There now, if you know too +much you'll grow old too soon. + +NAN. And you are going to lie on the oven? + +Mitrich. Well, of course! What a little silly you are, now I come to +look at you! Must needs know everything. (Tucks her up again, then +stands up to go.) There now, lie still and sleep! + + [Goes up to the oven. + +NAN. It gave just one cry, and now there's nothing to be heard. + +MITRITCH. Oh Lord! Gracious Nicholas! What is it you can't hear? + +NAN. The baby. + +MITRITCH. There is none, that's why you can't hear it. + +NAN. But I heard it! Blest if I didn't hear it! Such a thin voice! + +MITRITCH. Heard indeed! Much you heard! Well, if you know,--why then +it was just such a little girl as you that the bogey popped into his +bag and made off with. + +NAN. What bogey? + +MITRITCH. Why, just his very self! (Climbs up on to the oven.) The +oven is beautifully warm to-night. Quite a treat! Oh Lord! Gracious +Nicholas! + +NAN. Daddy! are you going to sleep? + +MITRITCH. What else? Do you think I'm going to sing songs? + + [Silence. + +NAN. Daddy! Daddy, I say! They are digging! they're digging--don't +you hear? Blest if they're not, they're digging! + +MITRITCH. What are you dreaming about? Digging! Digging in the night! +Who's digging? The cow's rubbing herself, that's all. Digging indeed! +Go to sleep I tell you, else I'll just put out the light! + +NAN. Daddy darling, don't put it out! I won't ... truly, truly, I +won't. It's so frightful! + +MITRITCH. Frightful? Don't be afraid and then it won't be frightful. +Look at her, she's afraid, and then says it's frightful. How can it +help being frightful if you are afraid? Eh, what a stupid little girl! + + [Silence. The cricket chirps. + +NAN (whispers). Daddy! I say, daddy! Are you asleep? + +MITRITCH. Now then, what d'you want? + +NAN. What's the bogey like? + +MITRITCH. Why, like this! When he finds such a one as you, who won't +sleep, he comes with a sack and pops the girl into it, then in he gets +himself, head and all, lifts her dress, and gives her a fine whipping! + +NAN. What with? + +MITRITCH. He takes a birch-broom with him. + +NAN. But he can't see there--inside the sack! + +MITRITCH. He'll see, no fear! + +NAN. But I'll bite him. + +MITRITCH. No, friend, him you can't bite! + +NAN. Daddy, there's some one coming! Who is it? Oh gracious goodness! +Who can it be? + +MITRITCH. Well, if some one's coming, let them come! What's the matter +with you? I suppose it's your mother! + + [Enter ANISYA. + +ANISYA (NAN pretends to be asleep). Mitritch! + +MITRITCH. What? + +ANISYA. What's the lamp burning for? We are going to sleep in the +summer-hut. + +MITRITCH. Why, you see I've only just got straight. I'll put the light +out all right. + +ANISYA (rummages in her box and grumbles). When a thing's wanted one +never can find it! + +MITRITCH. Why, what is it you are looking for? + +ANISYA. I'm looking for a cross. Suppose it were to die unbaptized! It +would be a sin, you know! + +MITRITCH. Of course it would! Everything in due order.... Have you +found it? + +ANISYA. Yes, I've found it. + + [Exit. + +MITRITCH. That's right, else I'd have lent her mine. Oh Lord! + +NAN (jumps up trembling). Oh, oh, daddy! Don't go to sleep; for +goodness' sake, don't! It's so frightful! + +MITRITCH. What's frightful? + +NAN. It will die--the little baby will! At Aunt Irene's the old woman +also baptized the baby, and it died! + +MITRITCH. If it dies, they'll bury it! + +NAN. But maybe it wouldn't have died, only old Granny Matryona's +there! Didn't I hear what granny was saying? I heard her! Blest if I +didn't! + +MITRITCH. What did you hear? Go to sleep, I tell you. Cover yourself +up, head and all, and let's have an end of it! + +NAN. If it lived, I'd nurse it! + +MITRITCH (roars). Oh Lord! + +NAN. Where will they put it? + +MITRITCH. In the right place! It's no business of yours! Go to sleep I +tell you, else mother will come; she'll give it you! + + [Silence. + +NAN. Daddy! Eh, daddy! That girl, you know, you were telling about +--they didn't kill her? + +MITRITCH. That girl? Oh yes. That girl turned out all right! + +NAN. How was it? You were saying you found her? + +MITRITCH. Well, we just found her! + +NAN. But where did you find her? Do tell! + +MITRITCH. Why, in their own house; that's where! We came to a village, +the soldiers began hunting about in the house, when suddenly there's +that same little girl lying on the floor, flat on her stomach. We were +going to give her a knock on the head, but all at once I felt that +sorry, that I took her up in my arms; but no, she wouldn't let me! +Made herself so heavy, quite a hundredweight, and caught hold where +she could with her hands, so that one couldn't get them off! Well, so +I began stroking her head. It was so bristly,--just like a hedgehog! So +I stroked and stroked, and she quieted down at last. I soaked a bit of +rusk and gave it her. She understood that, and began nibbling. What +were we to do with her? We took her; took her, and began feeding and +feeding her, and she got so used to us that we took her with us on the +march, and so she went about with us. Ah, she was a fine girl! + +NAN. Yes, and not baptized? + +MITRITCH. Who can tell! They used to say, not altogether. 'Cos why, +those people weren't our own. + +NAN. Germans? + +MITRITCH. What an idea! Germans! Not Germans, but Asiatics. They are +just the same as Jews, but still not Jews. Polish, yet Asiatics. Curls +... or, Curdlys is their name.... I've forgotten what it is![8] We +called the girl Sashka. She was a fine girl, Sashka was! There now, +I've forgotten everything I used to know! But that girl--the deuce +take her--seems to be before my eyes now! Out of all my time of +service, I remember how they flogged me, and I remember that girl. +That's all I remember! She'd hang round one's neck, and one 'ud carry +her so. That was a girl,--if you wanted a better you'd not find one! +We gave her away afterwards. The captain's wife took her to bring up +as her daughter. So--she was all right! How sorry the soldiers were to +let her go! + +NAN. There now, daddy, and I remember when father was dying,--you +were not living with us then. Well, he called Nikita and says, +"Forgive me, Nikita!" he says, and begins to cry. (Sighs.) That also +felt very sad! + +MITRITCH. Yes; there now, so it is.... + +NAN. Daddy! Daddy, I say! There they are again, making a noise in the +cellar! Oh gracious heavens! Oh dear! Oh dear! Oh, daddy! They'll do +something to it! They'll make away with it, and it's so little! Oh, +oh! + + [Covers up her head and cries. + +MITRITCH (listening). Really they're up to some villainy, blow them to +shivers! Oh, these women are vile creatures! One can't say much for +men either; but women!... They are like wild beasts, and stick at +nothing! + +NAN (rising). Daddy; I say, daddy! + +MITRITCH. Well, what now? + +NAN. The other day a traveller stayed the night; he said that when an +infant died its soul goes up straight to heaven. Is that true? + +MITRITCH. Who can tell? I suppose so. Well? + +NAN. Oh, it would be best if I died too. + + [Whimpers. + +MITRITCH. Then you'd be off the list! + +NAN. Up to ten one's an infant, and maybe one's soul would go to God. +Else one's sure to go to the bad! + +MITRITCH. And how to the bad? How should the likes of you not go to +the bad? Who teaches you? What do you see? What do you hear? Only +vileness! I, though I've not been taught much, still know a thing or +two. I'm not quite like a peasant woman. A peasant woman, what is she? +Just mud! There are many millions of the likes of you in Russia, and +all as blind as moles--knowing nothing! All sorts of spells: how to +stop the cattle-plague with a plough, and how to cure children by +putting them under the perches in the hen-house! That's what they +know! + +NAN. Yes, mother also did that! + +MITRITCH. Yes,--there it is,--just so! So many millions of girls and +women, and all like beasts in a forest! As she grows up, so she dies! +Never sees anything; never hears anything. A peasant,--he may learn +something at the pub, or maybe in prison, or in the army,--as I did. +But a woman? Let alone about God, she doesn't even know rightly what +Friday it is! Friday! Friday! But ask her what's Friday? She don't +know! They're like blind puppies, creeping about and poking their +noses into the dungheap.... All they know are their silly songs. Ho, +ho, ho, ho! But what they mean by ho-ho, they don't know themselves! + +NAN. But I, daddy, I do know half the Lord's Prayer! + +MITRITCH. A lot you know! But what Can one expect of you? Who teaches +you? Only a tipsy peasant--with the strap perhaps! That's all the +teaching you get! I don't know who'll have to answer for you. For a +recruit, the drill-sergeant or the corporal has to answer; but for the +likes of you there's no one responsible! Just as the cattle that have +no herdsman are the most mischievous, so with you women--you are the +stupidest class! The most foolish class is yours! + +NAN. Then what's one to do? + +MITRITCH. That's what one has to do.... You just cover up your head +and sleep! Oh Lord! + + [Silence. The cricket chirps. + +NAN (jumps up). Daddy! Some one's screaming awfully! Blest if some one +isn't screaming! Daddy darling, it's coming here! + +MITRITCH. Cover up your head, I tell you! + + [Enter NIKITA, followed by MATRYONA. + +NIKITA. What have they done with me? What have they done with me? + +MATRYONA. Have a drop, honey; have a drop of drink! What's the matter? + + [Fetches the spirits and sets the bottle before him. + +NIKITA. Give it here! Perhaps the drink will help me! + +MATRYONA. Mind! They're not asleep! Here you are, have a drop! + +NIKITA. What does it all mean? Why did you plan it? You might have +taken it somewhere! + +MATRYONA (whispers). Sit still a bit and drink a little more, or have +a smoke. It will ease your thoughts! + +NIKITA. My own mother! My turn seems to have come! How it began to +whimper, and how the little bones crunched ... krr.... I'm not a man +now! + +MATRYONA. Eh, now, what's the use of talking so silly! Of course it +does seem fearsome at night, but wait till the daylight comes, and a +day or two passes, and you'll forget to think of it! + + [Goes up to NIKITA and puts her hand on his shoulder. + +NIKITA. Go away from me! What have you done with me? + +MATRYONA. Come, come, sonny! Now, really, what's the matter with you? + + [Takes his hand. + +NIKITA. Go away from me! I'll kill you! It's all one to me now! I'll +kill you! + +MATRYONA. Oh, oh, how frightened he's got! You should go and have a +sleep now! + +NIKITA. I have nowhere to go; I'm lost! + +MATRYONA (shaking her head). Oh, oh, I'd better go and tidy things up. +He'll sit and rest a bit, and it will pass! + + [Exit. + + [NIKITA sits with his face in his hands. MITRITCH and NAN seem +stunned. + +NIKITA. It's whining! It's whining! It is really--there, there, quite +plain! She'll bury it, really she will! (Runs to the door.) Mother, +don't bury it, it's alive.... + + [Enter MATRYONA. + +MATRYONA (whispers). Now then, what is it? Heaven help you! Why won't +you get to rest? How can it be alive? All its bones are crushed! + +NIKITA. Give me more drink. + + [Drinks. + +MATRYONA. Now go, sonny. You'll fall asleep now all right. + +NIKITA (stands listening). Still alive ... there ... it's whining! +Don't you hear?... There! + +MATRYONA (whispers). No! I tell you! + +NIKITA. Mother! My own mother! I've ruined my life! What have you done +with me? Where am I to go? + + [Runs out of the hut; MATRYONA follows him. + +NAN. Daddy dear, darling, they've smothered it! + +MITRITCH (angrily). Go to sleep, I tell you! Oh dear, may the frogs +kick you! I'll give it to you with the broom! Go to sleep, I tell you! + +NAN. Daddy, my treasure! Something is catching hold of my shoulders, +something is catching hold with its paws! Daddy dear ... really, +really ... I must go! Daddy, darling! let me get up on the oven with +you! Let me, for Heaven's sake! Catching hold ... catching hold! Oh! + + [Runs to the stove. + +MITRITCH. See how they've frightened the girl.... What vile creatures +they are! May the frogs kick them! Well then, climb up. Nan (climbs on +oven). But don't you go away! Mitritch. Where should I go to? Climb +up, climb up! Oh Lord! Gracious Nicholas! Holy Mother!... How they +have frightened the girl. (Covers her up.) There's a little fool-- +really a little fool! How they've frightened her; really, they are +vile creatures! The deuce take 'em! + +CURTAIN + + + + +ACT V + +SCENE I + +In front of scene a stack-stand, to the left a thrashing ground, to +the right a barn. The barn doors are open. Straw is strewn about in +the doorway. The hut with yard and out-buildings is seen in the +background, whence proceed sounds of singing and of a tambourine. Two +GIRLS are walking past the barn towards the hut. + +FIRST GIRL. There, you see we've managed to pass without so much as +getting our boots dirty! But to come by the street is terribly muddy! +(Stop and wipe their boots on the straw. FIRST GIRL looks at the straw +and sees something .) What's that? + +SECOND GIRL (looks where the straw lies and sees some one). It's +MITRITCH, their laborer. Just look how drunk he is! + +FIRST GIRL. Why, I thought be didn't drink. + +SECOND GIRL. It seems he didn't, until it was going around. First +Girl. Just see! He must have come to fetch some straw. Look! he's got +a rope in his hand, and he's fallen asleep. + +SECOND GIRL (listening). They're still singing the praises.[9] So I +s'pose the bride and bridegroom have not yet been blessed! They say +Akoulina didn't even lament![10] + +FIRST GIRL. Mammie says she is marrying against her will. Her +stepfather threatened her, or else she'd not have done it for the +world! Why, you know what they've been saying about her? + +MARINA (catching up the GIRLS). How d'you you do, lassies? + +GIRLS. How d'you do? + +MARINA. Going to the wedding, my dears? + +FIRST GIRL. It's nearly over! We've come just to have a look. + +MARINA. Would you call my old man for me? Simon, from Zouevo; but +surely you know him? + +FIRST GIRL. To be sure we do; he's a relative of the bridegroom's, I +think? + +MARINA. Of course; he's my old man's nephew, the bridegroom is. + +SECOND GIRL. Why don't you go yourself? Fancy not going to a wedding! + +MARINA. I have no mind for it, and no time either. It's time for us to +be going home. We didn't mean to come to the wedding. We were taking +oats to town. We only stopped to feed the horse, and they made my old +man go in. + +FIRST GIRL. Where did you put up then? At Fyodoritch's? + +MARINA. Yes. Well then, I'll stay here and you go and call him, my +dear--my old man. Call him, my pet, and say "Your missis, Marina, says +you must go now!" His mates are harnessing. + +FIRST GIRL. Well, all right--if you won't go in yourself. + + [The GIRLS go away towards the house along a footpath. Sounds of + songs and tambourine. + +MARINA (alone, stands thinking). I might go in, but I don't like to, +because I have not met him since that day he threw me over. It's more +than a year now. But I'd have liked to have a peep and see how he +lives with his Anisya. People say they don't get on. She's a coarse +woman, and with a character of her own. I should think he's remembered +me more than once. He's been caught by the idea of a comfortable life +and has changed me for it. But, God help him, I don't cherish +ill-will! Then it hurt! Oh dear, it was pain! But now it's worn away +and been forgotten. But I'd like to have seen him. (Looks towards hut +and sees NIKITA.) Look there! Why, he is coming here! Have the girls +told him? How's it he has left his guests? I'll go away! (NIKITA +approaches, hanging his head down, swinging his arms, and muttering.) +And how sullen he looks! + +NIKITA (sees and recognises MARINA). Marina, dearest friend, little +MARINA, what do you want? + +MARINA. I have come for my old man. + +NIKITA. Why didn't you come to the wedding? You might have had a look +round, and a laugh at my expense! + +MARINA. What have I to laugh at? I've come for my husband. + +NIKITA. Ah, Marina dear! + + [Tries to embrace her. + +MARINA (steps angrily aside). You'd better drop that sort of thing, +Nikita! What has been is past! I've come for my husband. Is he in your +house? + +NIKITA. So I must not remember the past? You won't let me? + +MARINA. It's no use recalling the past! What used to be is over now! + +NIKITA. And can never come back, you mean? + +MARINA. And will never come back! But why have you gone away? You, the +master,--and to go away from the feast! + +NIKITA (sits down on the straw). Why have I gone away? Eh, if you +knew, if you had any idea.... I'm dull, Marina, so dull that I wish my +eyes would not see! I rose from the table and left them, to get away +from the people. If I could only avoid seeing any one! + +MARINA (coming nearer to him). How's that? + +NIKITA. This is how it is: when I eat, it's there! When I drink, it's +there! When I sleep, it's there! I'm so sick of it--so sick! But it's +chiefly because I'm all alone that I'm so sick, Marina. I have no one +to share my trouble. + +MARINA. You can't live your life without trouble, Nikita. However, +I've wept over mine and wept it away. + +NIKITA. The former, the old trouble! Ah, dear friend, you've wept +yours away, and I've got mine up to there! + + [Puts his hand to his throat. + +MARINA. But why? + +NIKITA. Why, I'm sick of my whole life! I am sick of myself! Ah, +MARINA, why did you not know how to keep me? You've ruined me, and +yourself too! Is this life? + +MARINA (stands by the barn crying, but restrains herself). I do not +complain of my life, Nikita! God grant every one a life like mine. I +do not complain. I confessed to my old man at the time, and he forgave +me. And he does not reproach me. I'm not discontented with my life. +The old man is quiet, and is fond of me, and I keep his children +clothed and washed! He is really kind to me. Why should I complain? It +seems God willed it so. And what's the matter with your life? You are +rich.... + +NIKITA. My life!... It's only that I don't wish to disturb the wedding +feast, or I'd take this rope here (takes hold of the rope on the +straw) and throw it across that rafter there. Then I'd make a noose +and stretch it out, and I'd climb on to that rafter and jump down with +my head in the noose! That's what my life is! + +MARINA. That's enough! Lord help you! + +NIKITA. You think I'm joking? You think I'm drunk? I'm not drunk! +To-day even drink takes no hold on me! I'm devoured by misery! Misery +is eating me up completely, so that I care for nothing! Oh little +Marina, it's only with you I ever lived! Do you remember how we used +to while away the nights together at the railway? + +MARINA. Don't you rub the sores, Nikita! I'm bound legally now, and +you too. My sin has been forgiven, don't disturb... + +NIKITA. What shall I do with my heart? Where am I to turn to? + +MARINA. What's there to be done? You've got a wife. Don't go looking +at others, but keep to your own! You loved Anisya, then go on loving +her! + +NIKITA. Oh, that Anisya, she's gall and wormwood to me, but she's +round my feet like rank weeds! + +MARINA. Whatever she is, still she's your wife.... But what's the use +of talking; you'd better go to your visitors, and send my husband to +me. + +NIKITA. Oh dear, if you knew the whole business... but there's no good +talking! + + [Enter MARINA'S husband, red and tipsy, and NAN. + +MARINA'S HUSBAND. Marina! Missis! My old woman! are you here? + +NIKITA. There's your husband calling you. Go! + +MARINA. And you? + +NIKITA. I? I'll lie down here for a bit! + + [Lies down on the straw. + +Husband. Where is she then? + +NAN. There she is, near the barn. + +HUSBAND. What are you standing there for? Come to the feast! The hosts +want you to come and do them honor! The wedding party is just going to +start, and then we can go too. + +MARINA (going towards her husband). I didn't want to go in. + +HUSBAND. Come on, I tell you! You'll drink a glass to our nephew +Peter's health, the rascal! Else the hosts might take offense! There's +plenty of time for our business. + + [MARINA'S husband puts his arm around her, and goes reeling out + with her. + +NIKITA (rises and sits down on the straw). Ah, now that I've seen her, +life seems more sickening than ever! It was only with her that I ever +really lived! I've ruined my life for nothing! I've done for myself! +(Lies down.) Where can I go? If mother earth would but open and +swallow me! + +NAN (sees NIKITA, and runs towards him). Daddy, I say, daddy! They're +looking for you! Her godfather and all of them have already blessed +her. Truly they have, they're getting cross! + +NIKITA (aside). Where can I go to? + +NAN. What? What are you saying? + +NIKITA. I'm not saying anything! Don't bother! + +NAN. Daddy! Come, I say! (NIKITA is silent, NAN pulls him by the +hand.) Dad, go and bless them! My word, they're angry, they're +grumbling! + +NIKITA (drags away his hand). Leave me alone! + +NAN. Now then! + +NIKITA (threatens her with the rope). Go, I say! I'll give it you! + +NAN. Then I'll send mother! + + [Runs away. + +NIKITA (rises). How can I go? How can I take the holy icon in my +hands? How am I to look her in the face! (Lies down again.) Oh, if +there were a hole in the ground, I'd jump in! No one should see me, +and I should see no one! (Rises again.) No, I shan't go.... May they +all go to the devil, I shan't go! (Takes the rope and makes a noose, +and tries it on his neck.) That's the way! + + [Enter MATRYONA. NIKITA sees his mother, takes the rope off his + neck, and again lies down in the straw. + +MATRYONA (comes in hurriedly). Nikita! Nikita, I say! He don't even +answer! Nikita, what's the matter? Have you had a drop too much? Come, +Nikita dear; come, honey! The people are tired of waiting. + +NIKITA. Oh dear, what have you done with me? I'm a lost man! + +MATRYONA. But what is the matter then? Come, my own; come, give them +your blessing, as is proper and honorable, and then it'll all be over! +Why, the people are waiting! + +NIKITA. How can I give blessings? + +MATRYONA. Why, in the usual way! Don't you know? + +NIKITA. I know, I know! But who is it I am to bless? What have I done +to her? + +MATRYONA. What have you done? Eh, now he's going to remember it! Why, +who knows anything about it? Not a soul! And the girl is going of her +own accord. + +NIKITA. Yes, but how? + +MATRYONA. Because she's afraid, of course. But still she's going. +Besides, what's to be done now? She should have thought sooner! Now +she can't refuse. And his kinsfolks can't take offense either. They +saw the girl twice, and get money with her too! It's all safe and +sound! + +NIKITA. Yes, but what's in the cellar? + +MATRYONA (laughs). In the cellar? Why, cabbages, mushrooms, potatoes, +I suppose! Why remember the past? + +NIKITA. I'd be only too glad to forget it; but I can't! When I let my +mind go, it's just as if I heard.... Oh, what have you done with me? + +MATRYONA. Now, what are you humbugging for? + +NIKITA (turns face downward). Mother! Don't torment me! I've got it up +to there! + + [Puts his hand to his throat. + +MATRYONA. Still it has to be done! As it is, people are talking. "The +master's gone away and won't come; he can't make up his mind to give +his blessing." They'll be putting two and two together. As soon as +they see you're frightened they'll begin guessing. "The thief none +suspect who walks bold and erect!" But you'll be getting out of the +frying-pan into the fire! Above all, lad, don't show it; don't lose +courage, else they'll find out all the more! + +NIKITA. Oh dear! You have snared me into a trap! + +MATRYONA. That'll do, I tell you; come along! Come in and give your +blessing, as is right and honorable;--and there's an end of the +matter! + +NIKITA (lies face down). I can't! + +MATRYONA (aside). What has come over him? He seemed all right, and +suddenly this comes over him! It seems he's bewitched! Get up, Nikita! +See! There's Anisya coming; she's left her guests! + + [ANISYA enters, dressed up, red and tipsy. + +ANISYA. Oh, how nice it is, mother! So nice, so respectable! And how +the people are pleased.... But where is he? + +MATRYONA. Here, honey, he's here; he's laid down on the straw and +there he lies! He won't come! + +NIKITA (looking at his wife). Just see, she's tipsy too! When I look +at her my heart seems to turn! How can one live with her? (Turns on +his face.) I'll kill her some day! It'll be worse then! + +ANISYA. Only look, how he's got all among the straw! Is it the drink? +(Laughs.) I'd not mind lying down there with you, but I've no time! +Come, I'll lead you! It is so nice in the house! It's a treat to look +on! A concertina! And the women singing so well! All tipsy! Everything +so respectable, so nice! + +NIKITA. What's nice? + +ANISYA. The wedding--such a jolly wedding! They all say it's quite an +uncommon fine wedding. All so respectable, so nice! Come along! We'll +go together! I have had a drop, but I can give you a hand yet! + + [Takes his hand. + +NIKITA. (pulls it back with disgust). Go alone! I'll come! + +ANISYA. What, are you humbugging for? We've got rid of all the bother, +we've got rid of her as came between us; now we have nothing to do but +to live and be merry! And all so respectable, and quite legal! I'm so +pleased! I have no words for it! It's just as if I were going to marry +you over again! And oh, the people, they are pleased! They're all +thanking us! And the guests are all of the best: Ivan Mosevitch is +there, and the Police Officer; they've also been singing songs of +praise! + +NIKITA. Then you should have stayed with them! What have you come for? + +ANISYA. True enough, I must go back! Else what does it look like! The +hosts both go and leave the visitors! And the guests are all of the +best! + +NIKITA (gets up and brushes the straw off himself). Go, and I'll come +at once! + +MATRYONA. Just see! He listens to the young bird, but wouldn't listen +to the old one! He would not hear me, but he follows his wife at once! +(MATRYONA and ANISYA turn to go.) Well, are you coming? + +NIKITA. I'll come directly! You go and I'll follow! I'll come and give +my blessing! (The women stop.) Go on! I'll follow! Now then, go! (Exit +women. Sits down and takes his boots off.) Yes, I'm going! A likely +thing! No, you'd better look at the rafter for me! I'll fix the noose +and jump with it from the rafter, then you can look for me! And the +rope is here just handy. (Ponders.) I'd have got over it, over any +sorrow--I'd have got over that. But this now--here it is, deep in my +heart, and I can't get over it! (Looks towards the yard.) Surely she's +not coming back? (Imitates ANISYA.) "So nice, so nice. I'd lie down +here with you." Oh, the baggage! Well, then, here I am! Come and +cuddle when they've taken me down from the rafter! There's only one +way! + + [Takes the rope and pulls it. + + [MITRITCH, who is tipsy, sits up and won't let go of the rope. + +MITRITCH. Shan't give it up! Shan't give it to no one! I'll bring it +myself! I said I'd bring the straw--and so I will! Nikita, is that +you? (Laughs.) Oh, the devil! Have you come to get the straw? + +NIKITA. Give me the rope! + +Mitrich. No, you wait a bit! The peasants sent me! I'll bring it.... +(Rises to his feet and begins getting the straw together, but reels +for a time, then falls.) It has beaten me. It's stronger.... + +NIKITA. Give me the rope! + +MITRITCH. Didn't I say I won't! Oh, Nikita, you're as stupid as a hog! +(Laughs.) I love you, but you're a fool! You see that I'm drunk ... +devil take you! You think I need you?... You just look at me; I'm a +Non ... fool, can't say it--Non-commissioned Officer of Her Majesty's +very First Regiment of Grenadier Guards! I've served Tsar and country, +loyal and true! But who am I? You think I'm a warrior? No, I'm not a +warrior; I'm the very least of men, a poor lost orphan! I swore not to +drink, and now I had a smoke, and.... Well then, do you think I'm +afraid of you? No fear; I'm afraid of no man! I've taken to drink, and +I'll drink! Now I'll go it for a fortnight; I'll go it hard! I'll +drink my last shirt; I'll drink my cap; I'll pawn my passport; and I'm +afraid of no one! They flogged me in the army to stop me drinking! +They switched and switched! "Well," they say, "will you leave off?" +"No," says I! Why should I be afraid of them? Here I am! Such as I am, +God made me! I swore off drinking, and didn't drink. Now I've took to +drink, and I'll drink! And I fear no man! 'Cos I don't lie; but just +as.... Why should one mind them--such muck as they are! "Here you +are," I say; that's me. A priest told me, the devil's the biggest +bragger! "As soon," says he, "as you begin to brag, you get +frightened; and as soon as you fear men then the hoofed one just +collars you and pushes you where he likes!" But as I don't fear men, +I'm easy! I can spit in the devil's beard, and at the sow his mother! +He can't do me no harm! There, put that in your pipe! + +NIKITA (crossing himself). True enough! What was I about? + + [Throws down the rope. + +MITRITCH. What? + +NIKITA (rises). You tell me not to fear men? + +MITRITCH. Why fear such muck as they are? You look at 'em in the +bath-house! All made of one paste! One has a bigger belly, another a +smaller; that's all the difference there is! Fancy being afraid of +'em! Deuce take 'em! + +MATRYONA (from the yard). Well, are you coming? + +NIKITA. Ah! Better so! I'm coming! + + [Goes towards yard. + + +SCENE II + +Interior of hut, full of people, some sitting round tables and others +standing. In the front corner AKOULINA and the BRIDEGROOM. On one of +the tables an Icon and a loaf of rye-bread. Among the visitors are +MARINA, her husband, and a POLICE OFFICER, also a HIRED DRIVER, the +MATCHMAKER, and the BEST MAN. The women are singing. ANISYA carries +round the drink. The singing stops. + +THE DRIVER. If we are to go, let's go! The church ain't so near. + +THE BEST MAN. All right; you wait a bit till the step-father has given +his blessing. But where is he? + +ANISYA. He is coming--coming at once, dear friends! Have another +glass, all of you; don't refuse! + +THE MATCHMAKER. Why is he so long? We've been waiting such a time! + +ANISYA. He's coming; coming directly, coming in no time! He'll be here +before one could plait a girl's hair who's had her hair cropped! +Drink, friends! (Offers the drink.) Coming at once! Sing again, my +pets, meanwhile! + +THE DRIVER. They've sung all their songs, waiting here! + + [The women sing. NIKITA and AKIM enter during the singing. + +NIKITA (holds his father's arm and pushes him in before him). Go, +father; I can't do without you! + +AKIM. I don't like--I mean what d'ye call it.... + +NIKITA (to the women). Enough! Be quiet! (Looks round the hut.) +Marina, are you there? + +THE MATCHMAKER. Go, take the icon, and give them your blessing! + +NIKITA. Wait a while! (Looks round.) Akoulina, are you there? + +MATCHMAKER. What are you calling everybody for? Where should she be? +How queer he seems! + +ANISYA. Gracious goodness! Why, he's barefoot! + +NIKITA. Father, you are here! Look at me! Christian Commune, you are +all here, and I am here! I am.... + + [Falls on his knees. + +ANISYA. Nikita, darling, what's the matter with you? Oh, my head, my +head! + +MATCHMAKER. Here's a go! + +MATRYONA. I did say he was taking too much of that French wine! Come +to your senses; what are you about? + + [They try to lift him; he takes no heed of them, but looks in + front of him. + +NIKITA. Christian Commune! I have sinned, and I wish to confess! + +MATRYONA (shakes him by the shoulder). Are you mad? Dear friends, he's +gone crazy! He must be taken away! + +NIKITA (shakes her off). Leave me alone! And you, father, hear me! And +first, Marina, look here! (Bows to the ground to her and rises.) I +have sinned towards you! I promised to marry you, I tempted you, and +forsook you! Forgive me, in Christ's name! + + [Again bows to the ground before her. + +ANISYA. And what are you drivelling about? It's not becoming! No one +wants to know! Get up! It's like your impudence! + +MATRYONA. Oh, oh, he's bewitched! And however did it happen? It's a +spell! Get up! what nonsense are you jabbering? + + [Pulls him. + +NIKITA (shakes his head). Don't touch me! Forgive me my sin towards +you, Marina! Forgive me, for Christ's sake! + + [MARINA covers her face with her hands in silence. + +ANISYA. Get up, I tell you! Don't be so impudent! What are you +thinking about--to recall it? Enough humbug! It's shameful! Oh my poor +head! He's quite crazy! + +NIKITA (pushes his wife away and turns to AKOULINA). Akoulina, now +I'll speak to you! Listen, Christian Commune! I'm a fiend, Akoulina! I +have sinned against you! Your father died no natural death! He was +poisoned! + +ANISYA (screams). Oh my head! What's he about? + +MATRYONA. The man's beside himself! Lead him away! + + [The folk come up and try to seize him. + +AKIM (motions them back with his arms). Wait! You lads, what d'ye call +it, wait, I mean! + +NIKITA. Akoulina, I poisoned him! Forgive me, in Christ's name! + +AKOULINA (jumps up). He's telling lies! I know who did it! + +MATCHMAKER. What are you about? You sit still! + +AKIM. Oh Lord, what sins, what sins! + +POLICE OFFICER. Seize him, and send for the Elder! We must draw up an +indictment and have witnesses to it! Get up and come here! + +AKIM (to POLICE OFFICER). Now you--with the bright buttons--I mean, +you wait! Let him, what d'ye call it, speak out, I mean! + +POLICE OFFICER. Mind, old man, and don't interfere! I have to draw up +an indictment! + +AKIM. Eh, what a fellow you are; wait, I say! Don't talk, I mean, +about, what d'ye call it, 'ditements' Here God's work is being +done.... A man is confessing, I mean! And you, what d'ye call it ... +'ditements! + +POLICE OFFICER. The Elder! + +AKIM. Let God's work be done, I mean, and then you. I mean you, do +your business! + +NIKITA. And, Akoulina, my sin is great towards you; I seduced you; +forgive me in Christ's name! + + [Bows to the ground before her. + +AKOULINA (leaves the table). Let me go! I shan't be married! He told +me to, but I shan't now! + +POLICE OFFICER. Repeat what you have said. + +NIKITA. Wait, sir, let me finish! + +AKIM (with rapture). Speak, my son! Tell everything--you'll feel +better! Confess to God, don't fear men! God--God! It is He! + +NIKITA. I poisoned the father, dog that I am, and I ruined the +daughter! She was in my power, and I ruined her, and her baby! + +AKOULINA. True, that's true! + +NIKITA. I smothered the baby in the cellar with a board! I sat on it +and smothered it--and its bones crunched! (Weeps.) And I buried it! I +did it, all alone! + +AKOULINA. He raves! I told him to! + +NIKITA. Don't shield me! I fear no one now! Forgive me, Christian +Commune! + + [Bows to the ground. + + [Silence. + +POLICE OFFICER. Bind him! The marriage is evidently off! + + [Men come up with their belts. + +NIKITA. Wait, there's plenty of time! (Bows to the ground before his +father.) Father, dear father, forgive me too,--fiend that I am! You +told me from the first, when I took to bad ways, you said then, "If a +claw is caught, the bird is lost!" I would not listen to your words, +dog that I was, and it has turned out as you said! Forgive me, for +Christ's sake! + +AKIM (rapturously). God will forgive you, my own son! (Embraces him.) +You have had no mercy on yourself; He will show mercy on you! God-- +God! It is He! + + [Enter ELDER. + +ELDER. There are witnesses enough here. + +POLICE OFFICER. We will have the examination at once. + + [NIKITA is bound. + +AKOULINA. (goes and stands by his side). I shall tell the truth! Ask +me! + +NIKITA (bound). No need to ask! I did it all myself. The design was +mine, and the deed was mine. Take me where you like. I will say no +more! + +CURTAIN + + + + +FOOTNOTES FOR THE POWER OF DARKNESS + +1. It is customary to place a dying person under the icon. One or + more icons hang in the hut of each Orthodox peasant. + +2. Peasant weddings are usually in autumn. They are forbidden in + Lent, and soon after Easter the peasants become too busy to marry + till harvest is over. + +3. A formal request for forgiveness is customary among Russians, but + it is often no mere formality. Nikita's first reply is evasive; + his second reply, "God will forgive you," is the correct one + sanctioned by custom. + +4. Loud public wailing of this kind is customary, and considered + indispensable, among the peasants. + +5. Where not otherwise mentioned in the stage directions, it is + always the winter half of the hut that is referred to as "the + hut." The summer half is not heated, and not used in winter + under ordinary circumstances. + +6. The Foundlings' Hospital in Moscow, where 80 to 90 percent of the + children die. + +7. Nan calls Mitritch "daddy" merely as a term of endearment. + +8. Probably Kurds + +9. This refers to the songs customary at the wedding of Russian + peasants, praising the bride and bridegroom. + +10. It is etiquette for a bride to bewail the approaching loss of her + maidenhood. + +END OF _THE POWER OF DARKNESS_ + +* * * * * + +FRUITS OF CULTURE + + + + +CHARACTERS + +LEONID FYODORITCH ZVEZDINTSEF. A retired Lieutenant of the Horse +Guards. Owner of more than 60,000 acres of land in various provinces. +A fresh-looking, bland, agreeable gentleman of 60. Believes in +Spiritualism, and likes to astonish people with his wonderful stories. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA ZVEZDINTSEVA. Wife of Leonid. Stout; pretends to be +young; quite taken up with the conventionalities of life; despises her +husband, and blindly believes in her doctor. Very irritable. + +BETSY. Their daughter. A young woman of 20, fast, tries to be mannish, +wears a pince-nez, flirts and giggles. Speaks very quickly and +distinctly. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH ZVEZDINTSEF. Their son, aged 25; has studied law, +but has no definite occupation. Member of the Cycling Club, Jockey +Club, and of the Society for Promoting the Breeding of Hounds. Enjoys +perfect health, and has imperturbable self-assurance. Speaks loud and +abruptly. Is either perfectly serious--almost morose, or is noisily +gay and laughs loud. Is nicknamed Vovo. + +ALEXEY VLADIMIROVITCH KROUGOSVETLOF. A professor and scientist of +about 50, with quiet and pleasantly self-possessed manners, and quiet, +deliberate, harmonious speech. Likes to talk. Is mildly disdainful of +those who do not agree with him. Smokes much. Is lean and active. + +THE DOCTOR. About 40. Healthy, fat, red-faced, loud-voiced, and rough; +with a self-satisfied smile constantly on his lips. + +MARYA KONSTANTINOVNA. A girl of 20, from the Conservatoire, teacher of +music. Wears a fringe, and is super-fashionably dressed. Obsequious, +and gets easily confused. + +PETRISTCHEF. About 28; has taken his degree in philology, and is +looking out for a position. Member of the same clubs as Vasily +Leoniditch, and also of the Society for the Organisation of Calico +Balls. [1] Is bald-headed, quick in movement and speech, and very +polite. + +THE BARONESS. A pompous lady of about 50, slow in her movements, +speaks with monotonous intonation. + +THE PRINCESS. A society woman, a visitor. + +HER DAUGHTER. An affected young society woman, a visitor. + +THE COUNTESS. An ancient dame, with false hair and teeth. Moves with +great difficulty. + +GROSSMAN. A dark, nervous, lively man of Jewish type. Speaks very +loud. + +THE FAT LADY: MARYA VASILYEVNA TOLBOUHINA. A very distinguished, rich, +and kindly woman, acquainted with all the notable people of the last +and present generations. Very stout. Speaks hurriedly, trying to be +heard above every one else. Smokes. + +BARON KLINGEN (nicknamed KOKO). A graduate of Petersburg University. +Gentleman of the Bedchamber, Attache to an Embassy. Is perfectly +correct in his deportment, and therefore enjoys peace of mind and is +quietly gay. + +TWO SILENT LADIES. + +SERGEY IVANITCH SAHATOF. About 50, an ex-Assistant Minister of State. +An elegant gentleman, of wide European culture, engaged in nothing and +interested in everything. His carriage is dignified and at times even +severe. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Personal attendant on Zvezdintsef, aged about 60. A +man of some education and fond of information. Uses his pince-nez and +pocket-handkerchief too much, unfolding the latter very slowly. Takes +an interest in politics. Is kindly and sensible. + +GREGORY. A footman, about 28, handsome, profligate, envious, and +insolent. + +JACOB. Butler, about 40, a bustling, kindly man, to whom the interests +of his family in the village are all-important. + +SIMON. The butler's assistant, about 20, a healthy, fresh, peasant +lad, fair, beardless as yet; calm and smiling. + +THE COACHMAN. A man of about 35, a dandy. Has moustaches but no beard. +Rude and decided. + +A DISCHARGED MAN-COOK. About 45, dishevelled, unshaved, bloated, +yellow and trembling. Dressed in a ragged, light summer-overcoat and +dirty trousers. Speaks hoarsely, ejecting the words abruptly. + +THE SERVANTS' COOK. A talkative, dissatisfied woman of 30. + +THE DOORKEEPER. A retired soldier. + +TANYA (TATYANA MARKOVNA). LADY's-maid, 19, energetic, strong, merry, +with quickly-changing moods. At moments, when strongly excited, she +shrieks with joy. + +FIRST PEASANT. About 60. Has served as village Elder. Imagines that he +knows how to treat gentlefolk, and likes to hear himself talk. + +SECOND PEASANT. About 45, head of a family. A man of few words. Rough +and truthful. The father of Simon. + +THIRD PEASANT. About 70. Wears shoes of plaited bast. Is nervous, +restless, hurried, and tries to cover his confusion by much talking. + +FIRST FOOTMAN (in attendance on the Countess). An old man, with +old-fashioned manners, and proud of his place. + +SECOND FOOTMAN. Of enormous size, strong, and rude. + +A PORTER FROM A FASHIONABLE DRESSMAKER'S SHOP. A fresh-faced man in +dark-blue long coat. Speaks firmly, emphatically, and clearly. + + +The action takes place in Moscow, in Zvesdintsef's house. + + + + +ACT I + +The entrance hall of a wealthy house in Moscow. There are three doors: +the front door, the door of LEONID FYODORITCH'S study, and the door of +VASILY LEONIDITCH'S room. A staircase leads up to the other rooms; +behind it is another door leading to the servants' quarters. + + +SCENE I + +GREGORY (looks at himself in the glass and arranges his hair, etc.). I +am sorry about those moustaches of mine! "Moustaches are not becoming +to a footman," she says! And why? Why, so that any one might see +you're a footman,--else my looks might put her darling son to shame. +He's a likely one! There's not much fear of his coming anywhere near +me, moustaches or no moustaches! (Smiling into the glass.) And what a +lot of 'em swarm round me. And yet I don't care for any of them as +much as for that Tanya. And she only a lady's-maid! Ah well, she's +nicer than any young lady. (Smiles.) She's a duck! (Listening.) Ah, +here she comes. (Smiles.) Yes, that's her, clattering with her little +heels. Oh! + + [Enter TANYA, carrying a cloak and boots. + +GREGORY. My respects to you, Tatyana Markovna. + +TANYA. What are you always looking in the glass for? Do you think +yourself so good-looking? + +GREGORY. Well, and are my looks not agreeable? + +TANYA. So, so; neither agreeable nor disagreeable, but just betwixt +and between! Why are all those cloaks hanging there? + +GREGORY. I am just going to put them away, your lady-ship! (Takes down +a fur cloak and, wrapping it round her, embraces her.) I say, Tanya, +I'll tell you something.... + +TANYA. Oh, get away, do! What do you mean by it? (Pulls herself +angrily away.) Leave me alone, I tell you! + +GREGORY (looks cautiously around). Then give me a kiss! + +TANYA. Now, really, what are you bothering for? I'll give you such a +kiss! + + [Raises her hand to strike. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH (off the scene, rings and then shouts). Gregory! + +TANYA. There now, go! Vasily Leoniditch is calling you. + +GREGORY. He'll wait! He's only just opened his eyes! I say, why don't +you love me? + +TANYA. What sort of loving have you imagined now? I don't love +anybody. + +GREGORY. That's a fib. You love Simon! You have found a nice one to +love--a common, dirty-pawed peasant, a butler's assistant! + +TANYA. Never mind; such as he is, you are jealous of him! + +VASILY LEONIDITCH (off the scene). Gregory! + +GREGORY. All in good time.... Jealous indeed! Of what? Why, you have +only just begun to get licked into shape, and who are you tying +yourself up with? Now, wouldn't it be altogether a different matter if +you loved me?.... I say, Tanya.... + +TANYA (angrily and severely). You'll get nothing from me, I tell you! + +VASILY LEONIDITCH (off the scene). Gregory! + +GREGORY. You're mighty particular, ain't you? + +VASILY LEONIDITCH (off the scene, shouts persistently, monotonously, +and with all his might) Gregory! Greg--ory! Gregory! + + [TANYA and GREGORY laugh. + +GREGORY. You should have seen the girls that have been sweet on me. + + [Bell rings. + +TANYA. Well then, go to them, and leave me alone! + +GREGORY. You are a silly, now I think of it. I'm not Simon! + +TANYA. Simon means marriage, and not tomfoolery! + + [Enter PORTER, carrying a large cardboard box. + +PORTER. Good morning! + +GREGORY. Good morning! Where are you from? + +PORTER. From Bourdey's. I've brought a dress, and here's a note for +the lady. + +TANYA (taking the note). Sit down, and I'll take it in. + + [Exit. + + [VASILY LEONIDITCH looks out of the door in shirt-sleeves and + slippers. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Gregory! + +GREGORY. Yes, sir. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Gregory! Don't you hear me call? + +GREGORY. I've only just come, sir. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Hot water, and a cup of tea. + +GREGORY. Yes, sir; Simon will bring them directly. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. And who is this? Ah, from Bourdier? + +PORTER. Yes, sir. + + [Exeunt VASILY LEONIDITCH and GREGORY. Bell rings. TANYA runs in + at the sound of the bell and opens the front door. + +TANYA (to PORTER). Please wait a little. Porter. I am waiting. + + [SAHATOF enters at front door. + +TANYA. I beg your pardon, but the footman has just gone away. This +way, sir. Allow me, please. + + [Takes his fur cloak. + +SAHATOF (adjusting his clothes). Is Leonid Fyodoritch at home? Is he +up? + + [Bell rings. + +TANYA. Oh yes, sir. He's been up a long time. + + [DOCTOR enters and looks around for the footman. Sees SAHATOF and + addresses him in an offhand manner. + +DOCTOR. Ah, my respects to you! + +SAHATOF (looks fixedly at him). The Doctor, I believe? + +DOCTOR. And I thought you were abroad! Dropped in to see Leonid +Fyodoritch? + +SAHATOF. Yes. And you? Is any one ill? + +DOCTOR (laughing). Not exactly ill but, you know.... It's awful with +these ladies! Sits up at cards till three every morning, and pulls her +waist into the shape of a wine-glass. And the lady is flabby and fat, +and carries the weight of a good many years on her back. + +SAHATOF. Is this the way you state your diagnosis to Anna Pavlovna? I +should hardly think it quite pleases her! + +DOCTOR (laughing). Well, it's the truth. They do all these tricks--and +then come derangements of the digestive organs, pressure on the liver, +nerves, and all sorts of things, and one has to come and patch them +up. It's just awful! (Laughs.) And you? You are also a spiritualist, +it seems? + +SAHATOF. I? No, I am not also a spiritualist.... Good morning! + + [Is about to go, but is stopped by the DOCTOR. + +DOCTOR. No! But I can't myself, you know, positively deny the +possibility of it, when a man like Krougosvetlof is connected with it +all. How can one? Is he not a professor,--a European celebrity? There +must be something in it. I should like to see for myself, but I never +have the time. I have other things to do. + +SAHATOF. Yes, yes! Good morning. + + [Exit, bowing slightly. + +DOCTOR (to Tanya). Is Anna Pavlovna up? + +TANYA. She's in her bedroom, but please come up. + + [DOCTOR goes upstairs. + + [THEODORE IVANITCH enters with a newspaper In his hand. + +THEODORE IVANITCH (to PORTER). What is it you want? + +PORTER. I'm from Bourdey's. I brought a dress and a note, and was told +to wait. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Ah, from Bourdey's! (To Tanya.) Who came in just +now? + +TANYA. It was Sergey Ivanitch Sahatof and the Doctor. They stood +talking here a bit. It was all about spiritalism. + +THEODORE IVANITCH (correcting her). Spiritualism. + +TANYA. Yes, that's just what I said--spiritalism. Have you heard how +well it went off last time, Theodore Ivanitch? (Laughs). There was +knocks, and things flew about! + +THEODORE IVANITCH. And how do you know? + +TANYA. Miss Elizabeth told me. + + [JACOB runs in with a tumbler of tea on a tray. + +JACOB (to the PORTER). Good morning! + +PORTER (disconsolately). Good morning! + + [JACOB knocks at VASILY LEONIDITCH'S door. + + [GREGORY enters. + +GREGORY. Give it here. + +JACOB. You didn't bring back all yesterday's tumblers, nor the tray +Vasily Leoniditch had. And it's me that have to answer for them! + +GREGORY. The tray is full of cigars. + +JACOB. Well, put them somewhere else. It's me who's answerable for it. + +GREGORY. I'll bring it back! I'll bring it back! + +JACOB. Yes, so you say, but it is not where it ought to be. The other +day, just as the tea had to be served, it was not to be found. + +GREGORY. I'll bring it back, I tell you. What a fuss! + +JACOB. It's easy for you to talk. Here am I serving tea for the third +time, and now there's the lunch to get ready. One does nothing but +rush about the livelong day. Is there any one in the house who has +more to do than me? Yet they are never satisfied with me. + +GREGORY. Dear me! Who could wish for any one more satisfactory? You're +such a fine fellow! + +TANYA. Nobody is good enough for you! You alone.... + +GREGORY (to TANYA). No one asked your opinion! + + [Exit. + +JACOB. Ah, well, I don't mind. Tatyana Markovna, did the mistress say +anything about yesterday? + +TANYA. About the lamp, you mean? + +JACOB. And how it managed to drop out of my hands, the Lord only +knows! Just as I began rubbing it, and was going to take hold of it in +another place, out it slips and goes all to pieces. It's just my luck! +It's easy for that Gregory Mihaylitch to talk--a single man like him! +But when one has a family, one has to consider things: they have to be +fed. I don't mind work.... So she didn't say anything? The Lord be +thanked!... Oh, Theodore Ivanitch, have you one spoon or two? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. One. Only one! + + [Reads newspaper. + + [Exit JACOB. + + [Bell rings. Enter GREGORY carrying a tray and the DOORKEEPER. + +DOORKEEPER (to GREGORY). Tell the master some peasants have come from +the village. + +GREGORY (pointing to THEODORE IVANITCH). Tell the major-domo here, +it's his business. I have no time. + + [Exit. + +TANYA. Where are these peasants from? + +DOORKEEPER. From Koursk, I think. + +TANYA. (shrieks with delight). It's them.... It's Simon's father come +about the land! I'll go and meet them! + + [Runs off. + +DOORKEEPER. Well, then what shall I say to them? Shall they come in +here? They say they've come about the land--the master knows, they +say. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Yes, they want to purchase some land. All right! +But he has a visitor now, so you had better tell them to wait. + +DOORKEEPER. Where shall they wait? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Let them wait outside. I'll send for them when the +time comes. + + [Exit DOORKEEPER. + + [Enter TANYA, followed by three PEASANTS. + +TANYA. To the right. In here! In here! + +THEODORE IVANITCH. I did not want them brought in here! + +GREGORY. Forward minx! + +TANYA. Oh, Theodore Ivanitch, it won't matter, they'll stand in this +corner. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. They'll dirty the floor. + +TANYA. They've scraped their shoes, and I'll wipe the floor up +afterwards. (To PEASANTS.) Here, stand just here. + + [PEASANTS come forward, carrying presents tied in cotton + handkerchiefs: cake, eggs and embroidered towels. They look + around for an icon before which to cross themselves; not finding + one, they cross themselves, looking at the staircase. + +GREGORY (to THEODORE IVANITCH). There now, Theodore Ivanitch, they say +Pironnet's boots are an elegant shape. But those there are ever so +much better. + + [Pointing to the third PEASANT'S bast shoes. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Why will you always be ridiculing people? + + [Exit GREGORY. + +THEODORE IVANITCH (rises and goes up to the PEASANTS). So you are from +Koursk? And have come to arrange about buying some land? + +FIRST PEASANT. Just so. We might say, it is for the completion of the +purchase of the land we have come. How could we announce ourselves to +the master? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Yes, yes, I know. You wait a bit and I'll go and +inform him. + + [Exit. + + [The PEASANTS look around; they are embarrassed where to put their + presents. + +FIRST PEASANT. There now, couldn't we have what d'you call it? +Something to present these here things on? To do it in a genteel way, +like,--a little dish or something. + +TANYA. All right, directly; put them down here for the present. + + [Puts bundles on settle. + +FIRST PEASANT. There now,--that respectable gentleman that was here +just now,--what might be his station? + +TANYA. He's the master's valet. + +FIRST PEASANT. I see. So he's also in service. And you, now, are you a +servant too? + +TANYA. I am lady's-maid. Do you know, I also come from Demen! I know +you, and you, but I don't know him. + + [Pointing to THIRD PEASANT. + +THIRD PEASANT. Them two you know, but me you don't know? + +TANYA. You are Efim Antonitch. + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just it! + +TANYA. And you are Simon's father, Zachary Trifanitch. + +SECOND PEASANT. Right! + +THIRD PEASANT. And let me tell you, I'm Mitry Vlasitch Tchilikin. Now +do you know? + +TANYA. Now I shall know you too! + +SECOND PEASANT. And who may you be? + +TANYA. I am Aksinya's, the soldier's wife's, orphan. + +FIRST AND THIRD PEASANTS (with surprise). Never! + +SECOND PEASANT. The proverb says true: "Buy a penny pig, put it in the +rye, And you'll have a wonderful fat porker by-and-by." + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just it! She's got the resemblance of a duchess! + +THIRD PEASANT. That be so truly. Oh Lord! + +VASILY LEONIDITCH (off the scene, rings, and then shouts). Gregory! +Gregory! + +FIRST PEASANT. Now who's that, for example, disturbing himself in such +a way, if I may say so? + +TANYA. That's the young master. + +THIRD PEASANT. Oh Lord! Didn't I say we'd better wait outside until +the time comes? + + [Silence. + +SECOND PEASANT. Is it you, Simon wants to marry? + +TANYA. Why, has he been writing? + + [Hides her face in her apron. + +SECOND PEASANT. It's evident he's written! But it's a bad business +he's imagined here. I see the lad's got spoilt! + +TANYA (quickly). No, he's not at all spoilt! Shall I send him to you? + +SECOND PEASANT. Why send him? All in good time. Where's the hurry? + +VASILY LEONIDITCH (desperately, behind scene). Gregory! Where the +devil are you?... + + [Enters from his room in shirt-sleeves, adjusting his pince-nez. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Is every one dead? + +TANYA. He's not here, sir.... I'll send him to you at once. + + [Moves towards the back door. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. I could hear you talking, you know. How have these +scarecrows sprung up here? Eh? What? + +TANYA. They're peasants from the Koursk village, sir. + + [PEASANTS bow. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. And who is this? Oh yes, from Bourdier. + + [VASILY LEONIDITCH pays no attention to the PEASANTS' bow. TANYA + meets GREGORY at the doorway and remains on the scene. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH (to GREGORY). I told you the other boots.... I can't +wear these! + +GREGORY. Well, the others are also there. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. But where is there? + +GREGORY. Just in the same place! + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. They're not! + +GREGORY. Well, come and see. + + [Exeunt GREGORY and VASILY LEONIDITCH. + +THIRD PEASANT. Say, now, might we not in the meantime just go and +wait, say, in some lodging-house or somewhere? + +TANYA. No, no, wait a little. I'll go and bring you some plates to put +the presents on. + + [Exit. + + [Enter SAHATOF and LEONID FYODORITCH, followed by THEODORE IVANITCH. + + [The PEASANTS take up the presents, and pose themselves. + +LEONID FYODORITCH (to PEASANTS). Presently, presently! Wait a bit! +(Points to PORTER.) Who is this? + +PORTER. From Bourdey's. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Ah, from Bourdier. + +SAHATOF (smiling). Well, I don't deny it: still you understand that, +never having seen it, we, the uninitiated, have some difficulty in +believing. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. You say you find it difficult to believe! We do not +ask for faith; all we demand of you is to investigate! How can I help +believing in this ring? Yet this ring came from there! + +SAHATOF. From there? What do you mean? From where? + +LEONID FYODORITCH. From the other world. Yes! + +SAHATOF (smiling). That's very interesting--very interesting! + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Well, supposing we admit that I'm a man carried +away by an idea, as you think, and that I am deluding myself. Well, +but what of Alexey Vladimiritch Krougosvetlof--he is not just an +ordinary man, but a distinguished professor, and yet he admits it to +be a fact. And not he alone. What of Crookes? What of Wallace? + +SAHATOF. But I don't deny anything. I only say it is very interesting. +It would be interesting to know how Krougosvetlof explains it! + +LEONID FYODORITCH. He has a theory of his own. Could you come +to-night?--he is sure to be here. First we shall have Grossman--you +know, the famous thought-reader? + +SAHATOF. Yes, I have heard of him but have never happened to meet him. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Then you must come! We shall first have Grossman, +then Kaptchitch, and our mediumistic seance.... (To THEODORE +IVANITCH.) Has the man returned from Kaptchitch? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Not yet, sir. + +SAHATOF. Then how am I to know? + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Never mind, come in any case! If Kaptchitch can't +come we shall find our own medium. Marya Ignatievna is a medium--not +such a good one as Kaptchitch, but still.... + + [TANYA enters with plates for the presents, and stands listening. + +SAHATOF (smiling). Oh, yes, yes. But here is one puzzling point:--how +is it that the mediums are always of the, so-called, educated class, +such as Kaptchitch and Marya Ignatievna? If there were such a special +force, would it not be met with also among the common people--the +peasants? + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Oh yes, and it is! That is very common. Even here +in our own house we have a peasant whom we discovered to be a medium. +A few days ago we called him in--a sofa had to be moved, during a +seance--and we forgot all about him. In all probability he fell +asleep. And, fancy, after our seance was over and Kaptchitch had come +to again, we suddenly noticed mediumistic phenomena in another part of +the room, near the peasant: the table gave a jerk and moved! + +TANYA (aside). That was when I was getting out from under it! + +LEONID FYODORITCH. It is quite evident he also is a medium. Especially +as he is very like Home in appearance. You remember Home--a +fair-haired naif sort of fellow? + +SAHATOF (shrugging his shoulders). Dear me, this is very interesting, +you know. I think you should try him. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. So we will! And he is not alone; there are +thousands of mediums, only we do not know them. Why, only a short time +ago a bedridden old woman moved a brick wall! + +SAHATOF. Moved a brick ... a brick wall? + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Yes, yes. She was lying in bed, and did not even +know she was a medium. She just leant her arm against the wall, and +the wall moved! + +SAHATOF. And did not cave in? + +LEONID FYODORITCH. And did not cave in. + +SAHATOF. Very strange! Well, then, I'll come this evening. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Pray, do. We shall have a seance in any case. + + [SAHATOF puts on his outdoor things; LEONID FYODORITCH sees him + to the door. + +PORTER (to TANYA). Do tell your mistress! Am I to spend the night +here? + +TANYA. Wait a little; she's going to drive out with the young lady, so +she'll soon be coming downstairs. + + [Exit. + +LEONID FYODORITCH (comes up to the PEASANTS, who bow and offer him +their presents). That's not necessary! + +FIRST PEASANT (smiling). Oh, but this-here is our first duty, it is! +It's also the Commune's orders that we should do it! + +SECOND PEASANT. That's always been the proper way. + +THIRD PEASANT. Say no more about it! 'Cause as we are much +satisfied.... As our parents, let's say, served, let's say, your +parents, so we would like the same with all our hearts ... and not +just anyhow! + + [Bows. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. But what is it about? What do you want? + +FIRST PEASANT. It's to your honor we've come.... + + [Enter PETRISTCHEF briskly, in fur-lined overcoat. + +PETRISTCHEF. Is Vasily Leoniditch awake yet? + + [Seeing LEONID FYODORITCH, bows, moving only his head. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. You have come to see my son? + +PETRISTCHEF. I? Yes, just to see Vovo for a moment. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Step in, step in. + + [PETRISTCHEF takes off his overcoat and walks in briskly. Exit. + +LEONID FYODORITCH (to PEASANTS). Well, what is it you want? + +SECOND PEASANT. Please accept our presents! + +FIRST PEASANT (smiling). That's to say, the peasants' offerings. + +THIRD PEASANT. Say no more about it; what's the good? We wish you the +same as if you were our own father! Say no more about it! + +LEONID FYODORITCH. All right. Here, Theodore, take these. + +THEODORE IVANITCH (to PEASANTS). Give them here. + + [Takes the presents. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Well, what is the business? + +FIRST PEASANT. We've come to your honor.... + +LEONID FYODORITCH. I see you have; but what do you want? + +FIRST PEASANT. It's about making a move towards completing the sale of +the land. It comes to this.... + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Do you mean to buy the land? + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just it. It comes to this.... I mean the buying +of the property of the land. The Commune has given us, let's say, the +power of atturning, to enter, let's say, as is lawful, through the +Government bank, with a stamp for the lawful amount. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. You mean that you want to buy the land through the +land-bank. + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just it. Just as you offered it to us last year. +It comes to this, then, the whole sum in full for the buying of the +property of the land is 32,864 roubles. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. That's all right, but how about paying up? + +FIRST PEASANT. As to the payment, the Commune offers just as it was +said last year--to pay in 'stalments, and your receipt of the ready +money by lawful regulations, 4000 roubles in full. [2] + +SECOND PEASANT. Take 4000 now, and wait for the rest of the money. + +THIRD PEASANT (unwrapping a parcel of money). And about this be quite +easy. We should pawn our own selves rather than do such a thing just +anyhow say, but in this way, let's say, as it ought to be done. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. But did I not write and tell you that I should not +agree to it unless you brought the whole sum? + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just it. It would be more agreeable, but it is +not in our possibilities, I mean. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Well then, the thing can't be done! + +FIRST PEASANT. The Commune, for example, relied its hopes on that, +that you made the offer last year to sell it in easy 'stalments.... + +LEONID FYODORITCH. That was last year. I would have agreed to it then, +but now I can't. + +SECOND PEASANT. But how's that? We've been depending on your promise-- +we've got the papers ready and have collected the money! + +THIRD PEASANT. Be merciful, master! We're short of land; we'll say +nothing about cattle, but even a hen, let's say, we've no room to +keep. (Bows.) Don't wrong us, master! + + [Bows. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Of course it's quite true, that I agreed last year +to let you have the land for payment by instalments, but now +circumstances are such that it would be inconvenient. + +SECOND PEASANT. Without this land we cannot live! + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just it. Without land our lives must grow weaker +and come to a decline. + +THIRD PEASANT (bowing). Master, we have so little land, let's not talk +about the cattle, but even a chicken, let's say, we've no room for. +Master, be merciful, accept the money, master! + +LEONID FYODORITCH (examining the document). I quite understand, and +should like to help you. Wait a little; I will give you an answer in +half-an-hour.... Theodore, say I am engaged and am not to be +disturbed. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Yes, sir. + + [Exit LEONID FYODORITCH. + + [The PEASANTS look dejected. + +SECOND PEASANT. Here's a go! "Give me the whole sum," he says. And +where are we to get it from? + +FIRST PEASANT. If he had not given us hopes, for example. As it is we +felt quite insured it would be as was said last year. + +THIRD PEASANT. Oh, Lord! and I had begun unwrapping the money. (Begins +wrapping up the bundle of bank-notes again.) What are we to do now? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. What is your business, then? + +FIRST PEASANT. Our business, respected sir, depends in this. Last year +he made us the offer of our buying the land in 'stalments. The Commune +entered upon these terms and gave us the powers of atturning, and now +d'you see he makes the offering that we should pay the whole in full! +And as it turns out, the business is no ways convenient for us. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. What is the whole sum? + +FIRST PEASANT. The whole sum in readiness is 4000 roubles, you see. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Well, what of that? Make an effort and collect +more. + +FIRST PEASANT. Such as it is, it was collected with much effort. We +have, so to say, in this sense, not got ammunition enough. + +SECOND PEASANT. You can't get blood out of a stone. + +THIRD PEASANT. We'd be glad with all our hearts, but we have swept +even this together, as you might say, with a broom. + + [VASILY LEONIDITCH and PETRISTCHEF appear in the doorway both + smoking cigarettes. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. I have told you already I'll do my best, so, of +course, I will do all that is possible! Eh, what? + +PETRISTCHEF. You must just understand that if you do not get it, the +devil only knows what a mess we shall be in! + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. But I've already said I'll do my best, and so I +will. Eh, what? + +PETRISTCHEF. Nothing. I only say, get some at any cost; I will wait. + + [Exit into VASILY LEONIDITCH'S room, closing door. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH (waving his arm). It's a deuce of a go! + + [The PEASANTS bow. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH (looking at PORTER, to THEODORE IVANITCH). Why don't +you attend to this fellow from Bourdier? He hasn't come to take +lodgings with us, has he? Just look, he is asleep! Eh, what? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. The note he brought has been sent in, and he has +been told to wait until Anna Pavlovna comes down. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH (looks at PEASANTS and notices the money). And what +is this? Money? For whom? Is it for us? (To THEODORE IVANITCH.) Who +are they? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. They are peasants from Koursk. They are buying +land. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Has it been sold them? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. No, they have not yet come to any agreement. They +are too stingy? + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Eh? Well, we must try and persuade them. (To the +PEASANTS.) Here, I say, are you buying land? Eh? + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just it. We have made an offering as how we +should like to acquire the possession of the land. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Then you should not be so stingy, you know. Just +let me tell you how necessary land is to peasants! Eh, what? It's very +necessary, isn't it? + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just it. The land appears as the very first and +foremost necessity to a peasant. That's just it. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Then why be so stingy? Just you think what land is! +Why, one can sow wheat on it in rows! I tell you, you could get eighty +bushels of wheat, at a rouble and a half a bushel--that would be 120 +roubles. Eh, what? Or else mint! I tell you, you could collar 400 +roubles off an acre by sowing mint! + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just it. All sorts of products one could put +into action if one had the right understanding. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Mint! Decidedly mint! I have learnt about it, you +know. It's all printed in books. I can show them you. Eh, what? + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just it, all concerns are clearer to you through +your books. That's learnedness, of course. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Then pay up and don't be stingy! (To THEODORE +IVANITCH.) Where's papa? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. He gave orders not to be disturbed just now. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Oh, I suppose he's consulting a spirit whether to +sell the land or not? Eh, what? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. I can't say. All I know is that be went away +undecided about it. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. What d'you think, Theodore Ivanitch, is he flush of +cash? Eh, what? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. I don't know. I hardly think so. But what does it +matter to you? You drew a good sum not more than a week ago. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. But didn't I pay for those dogs? And now, you know, +there's our new Society, and Petristchef has been chosen, and I had +borrowed money from Petristchef and must pay the subscription both for +him and for myself. Eh, what? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. And what is this new Society? A Cycling Club? + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. No. Just let me tell you. It is quite a new +Society. It is a very serious Society, you know. And who do you think +is President? Eh, what? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. What's the object of this new Society? + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. It is a "Society to Promote the Breeding of +Pure-Bred Russian Hounds." Eh, what? And I'll tell you, they're +having the first meeting and a lunch, to-day. And I've no money. I'll +go to him and have a try! + + [Exit through study door. + +FIRST PEASANT (to THEODORE IVANITCH). And who might he be, respected +sir? + +THEODORE IVANITCH (smiles). The young master. + +THIRD PEASANT. The heir, so to say. Oh, Lord! (Puts away the money.) +I'd better hide it meanwhile. + +FIRST PEASANT. And we were told he was in military service, in the +cav'rely, for example. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. No, as an only son he is exempt from military +service. + +THIRD PEASANT. Left for to keep his parents, so to say! That's right! + +SECOND PEASANT (shaking his head). He's the right sort. He'll feed +them finely! + +THIRD PEASANT. Oh, Lord! + + [Enter VASILY LEONIDITCH, followed by LEONID FYODORITCH. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. That's always the way. It's really surprising! +First I'm asked why I have no occupation, and now when I have found a +field and am occupied, when a Society with serious and noble aims has +been founded, I can't even have 300 roubles to go on with!... + +LEONID FYODORITCH. I tell you I can't do it, and I can't! I haven't +got it. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Why, you have just sold some land. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. In the first place I have not sold it! And above +all, do leave me in peace! Weren't you told I was engaged? + + [Exit, slamming door. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. I told you this was not the right moment. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Well, I say! Here's a position to be in! I'll go +and see mamma--that's my only hope. He's going crazy over his +spiritualism and forgets everything else. + + [Goes upstairs. + + [THEODORE IVANITCH takes newspaper and is just going to sit down, + when BETSY and MARYA KONSTANTINOVNA, followed by GREGORY, come + down the stairs. + +BETSY. Is the carriage ready? + +GREGORY. Just coming to the door. + +BETSY (to MARYA KONSTANTINOVNA). Come along, come along, I know it is +he. + +MARYA KONSTANTINOVNA. Which he? + +BETSY. You know very well whom I mean--Petristchef, of course. + +MARYA KONSTANTINOVNA. But where is he? + +BETSY. Sitting in Vovo's room. You'll see! + +MARYA KONSTANTINOVNA. And suppose it is not he? + + [The PEASANTS and PORTER bow. + +BETSY (to PORTER). You brought a dress from Bourdier's? + +PORTER. Yes, Miss. May I go? + +BETSY. Well, I don't know. Ask my mother. + +PORTER. I don't know whose it is, Miss; I was ordered to bring it here +and receive the money. + +BETSY. Well, then, wait. + +MARYA KONSTANTINOVNA. Is it still that costume for the charade? + +BETSY. Yes, a charming costume. But mamma won't take it or pay for it. + +MARYA KONSTANTINOVNA. But why not? + +BETSY. You'd better ask mamma. She doesn't grudge Vovo 500 roubles for +his dogs, but 100 is too much for a dress. I can't act dressed like a +scarecrow. (Pointing to PEASANTS.) And who are these? + +GREGORY. Peasants who have come to buy some land or other. + +BETSY. And I thought they were the beaters. Are you not beaters? + +FIRST PEASANT. No, no, lady. We have come to see Leonid Fyodoritch +about the signing into our possession of the title-deeds to some land. + +BETSY. Then how is it? Vovo was expecting some beaters who were to +come to-day. Are you sure you are not the beaters? (The PEASANTS are +silent.) How stupid they are! (Goes to VASILY LEONIDITCH'S door.) +Vovo? + + [Laughs. + +MARYA KONSTANTINOVNA. But we met him just now upstairs! + +BETSY. Why need you remember that? Vovo, are you there? + + [PETRISTCHEF enters. + +PETRISTCHEF. Vovo is not here, but I am prepared to fulfil on his +behalf anything that may be required. How do you do? How do you do, +Marya Konstantinovna? + + [Shakes hands long and violently with BETSY, and then with MARYA + KONSTANTINOVNA. + +SECOND PEASANT. See, it's as if he were pumping water! + +BETSY. You can't replace him,--still you're better than nobody. +(Laughs.) What are these affairs of yours with Vovo? + +PETRISTCHEF. What affairs? Our affairs are fie-nancial that is, our +business is fie! It's also nancial, and besides it is financial. + +BETSY. What does nancial mean? + +PETRISTCHEF. What a question! It means nothing, that's just the point. + +BETSY. No, no, you have missed fire. + + [Laughs. + +PETRISTCHEF. One can't always hit the mark, you know. It's something +like a lottery. Blanks and blanks again, and at last you win! + + [THEODORE IVANITCH goes into the study. + +BETSY. Well, this was blank then; but tell me, were you at the +Mergasofs' last night? + +PETRISTCHEF. Not exactly at the Mere Gasof's, but rather at the Pere +Gasof's, or better still, at the Fils Gasof's. + +BETSY. You can't do without puns. It's an illness. And were the +Gypsies there? [3] + + [Laughs. + +PETRISTCHEF (sings). "On their aprons silken threads, little birds +with golden heads!".... + +BETSY. Happy mortals! And we were yawning at Fofo's. + +PETRISTCHEF (continues to sing). "And she promised and she swore, she +would ope' her ... her ... her...." how does it go on, Marya +Konstantinovna? + +MARYA KONSTANTINOVNA. "Closet door." + +PETRISTCHEF. How? What? How, Marya Konstantinovna? + +BETSY. Cessez, vous devenez impossible! [4] + +PETRISTCHEF. J'ai cesse, j'ai bebe, j'ai dede....[5] + +BETSY. I see the only way to rid ourselves of your wit is to make you +sing! Let us go into Vovo's room, his guitar is there. Come, Marya +Konstantinovna, come! + + [Exeunt BETSY, MARYA KONSTANTINOVNA, and PETRISTCHEF. + +FIRST PEASANT. Who be they? + +GREGORY. One is our young lady, the other is a girl who teaches her +music. + +FIRST PEASANT. Administrates learning, so to say. And ain't she smart? +A reg'lar picture! + +SECOND PEASANT. Why don't they marry her? She is old enough, I should +say. + +GREGORY. Do you think it's the same as among you peasants,--marry at +fifteen? + +FIRST PEASANT. And that man, for example, is he also in the musitional +line? + +GREGORY (mimicking him). "Musitional," indeed! You don't understand +anything! + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just so. And stupidity, one might say, is our +ignorance. + +THIRD PEASANT. Oh, Lord! + + [Gypsy songs and guitar accompaniment are heard from VASILY + LEONIDITCH'S room. + + [Enter SIMON, followed by TANYA, who watches the meeting between + father and son. + +GREGORY (to SIMON). What do you want? + +SIMON. I have been to Mr. Kaptchitch. + +GREGORY. Well, and what's the answer? + +SIMON. He sent word he couldn't possibly come to-night. + +GREGORY. All right, I'll let them know. + + [Exit. + +SIMON (to his father). How d'you do, father! My respects to Daddy Efim +and Daddy Mitry! How are all at home? + +SECOND PEASANT. Very well, Simon. + +FIRST PEASANT. How d'you do, lad? + +THIRD PEASANT. How d'you do, sonny? + +SIMON (smiles). Well, come along, father, and have some tea. + +SECOND PEASANT. Wait till we've finished our business. Don't you see +we are not ready yet? + +SIMON. Well, I'll wait for you by the porch. + + [Wishes to go away. + +TANYA (running after him). I say, why didn't you tell him anything? + +SIMON. How could I before all those people? Give me time, I'll tell +him over our tea. + + [Exit. + + [THEODORE IVANITCH enters and sits down by the window. + +FIRST PEASANT. Respected sir, how's our business proceeding? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Wait a bit, he'll be out presently, he's just +finishing. + +TANYA (to THEODORE IVANITCH). And how do you know, Theodore Ivanitch, +he is finishing? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. I know that when he has finished questioning, he +reads the question and answer aloud. + +TANYA. Can one really talk with spirits by means of a saucer? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. It seems so. + +TANYA. But supposing they tell him to sign, will he sign? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Of course he will. + +TANYA. But they do not speak with words? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Oh, yes. By means of the alphabet. He notices at +which letter the saucer stops. + +TANYA. Yes, but at a si-ance?.... + + [Enter LEONID FYODORITCH. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Well, friends, I can't do it! I should be very glad +to, but it is quite impossible. If it were for ready money it would be +a different matter. + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just so. What more could any one desire? But the +people are so inpennycuous--it is quite impossible! + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Well, I can't do it, I really can't. Here is your +document; I can't sign it. + +THIRD PEASANT. Show some pity, master; be merciful! + +SECOND PEASANT. How can you act so? It is doing us a wrong. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Nothing wrong about it, friends. I offered it you +in summer, but then you did not agree; and now I can't agree to it. + +THIRD PEASANT. Master, be merciful! How are we to get along? We have +so little land. We'll say nothing about the cattle; a hen, let's say, +there's no room to let a hen run about. + + [LEONID FYODORITCH goes up to the door and stops. Enter, + descending the staircase, ANNA PAVLOVNA and DOCTOR, followed by + VASILY LEONIDITCH, who is in a merry and playful mood and is + putting some bank-notes into his purse. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA (tightly laced, and wearing a bonnet). Then I am to take +it? + +DOCTOR. If the symptoms recur you must certainly take it, but above +all, you must behave better. How can you expect thick syrup to pass +through a thin little hair tube, especially when we squeeze the tube? +It's impossible; and so it is with the biliary duct. It's simple +enough. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. All right, all right! + +DOCTOR. Yes. "All right, all right," and you go on in the same old +way. It won't do, madam--it won't do. Well, good-bye! + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. No, not good-bye, only au revoir! For I still expect +you to-night. I shall not be able to make up my mind without you. + +DOCTOR. All right, if I have time I'll pop in. + + [Exit. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA (noticing the PEASANTS). What's this? What? What people +are these? + + [PEASANTS bow. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. These are peasants from Koursk, come to see Leonid +Fyodoritch about the sale of some land. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. I see they are peasants, but who let them in? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Leonid Fyodoritch gave the order. He has just been +speaking to them about the sale of the land. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. What sale? There is no need to sell any. But above all, +how can one let in people from the street into the house? One can't +let people in from the street! One can't let people into the house who +have spent the night heaven knows where!... (Getting more and more +excited.) I daresay every fold of their clothes is full of microbes-- +of scarlet-fever microbes, of smallpox microbes, of diphtheria +microbes! Why, they are from Koursk Government, where there is an +epidemic of diphtheria ... Doctor! Doctor! Call the doctor back! + + [LEONID FYODORITCH goes into his room and shuts the door. GREGORY + goes to recall the DOCTOR. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH (smokes at the PEASANTS). Never mind, mamma; if you +like I'll fumigate them so that all the microbes will go to pot! Eh, +what? + + [ANNA PAVLOVNA remains severely silent, awaiting the DOCTOR'S + return. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH (to PEASANTS). And do you fatten pigs? There's a +first-rate business! + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just so. We do go in for the pig-fattening line +now and then. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. This kind?... + + [Grunts like a pig. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Vovo, Vovo, leave off! + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Isn't it like? Eh, what? + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just so. It's very resemblant. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Vovo, leave off, I tell you! + +SECOND PEASANT. What's it all about? + +THIRD PEASANT. I said, we'd better go to some lodging meanwhile! + + [Enter DOCTOR and GREGORY. + +DOCTOR. What's the matter? What's happened? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Why, you're always saying I must not get excited. Now, +how is it possible to keep calm? I do not see my own sister for two +months, and am careful about any doubtful visitor--and here are people +from Koursk, straight from Koursk, where there is an epidemic of +diphtheria, right in my house! + +DOCTOR. These good fellows you mean, I suppose? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Of course. Straight from a diphtheric place! + +DOCTOR. Well, of course, if they come from an infected place it is +rash; but still there is no reason to excite yourself so much about +it. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. But don't you yourself advise carefulness? + +DOCTOR. Of course, of course. Still, why excite yourself? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. How can I help it? Now we shall have to have the house +completely disinfected. + +DOCTOR. Oh, no! Why completely? That would cost 300 roubles or more. +I'll arrange it cheaply and well for you. Take, to a large bottle of +water.... + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Boiled? + +DOCTOR. It's all the same. Boiled would be better. To one bottle of +water take a tablespoon of salicylic acid, and have everything they +have come in contact with washed with the solution. As to the fellows +themselves, they must be off, of course. That's all. Then you're quite +safe. And it would do no harm to sprinkle some of the same solution +through a spray--two or three tumblers--you'll see how well it will +act. No danger whatever. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Tanya! Where is Tanya? + + [Enter TANYA. + +TANYA. Did you call, M'm? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. You know that big bottle in my dressing-room? + +TANYA. Out of which we sprinkled the laundress yesterday? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Well, of course! What other bottle could I mean? Well, +then, take that bottle and first wash with soap the place where they +have been standing, and then with.... + +TANYA. Yes, M'm; I know how. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. And then take the spray.... However, I had better do +that myself when I get back. + +DOCTOR. Well, then, do so, and don't be afraid! Well, au revoir till +this evening. + + [Exit. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. And they must be off! Not a trace of them must remain! +Get out, get out! Go--what are you looking at? + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just so. It's because of our stupidity, as we +were instructed.... + +GREGORY (pushes the PEASANTS out). There, there; be off! + +SECOND PEASANT. Let me have my handkerchief back! + + [The handkerchief in which the presents were wrapped. + +THIRD PEASANT. Oh, Lord, oh, Lord! didn't I say--some lodging-house +meanwhile! + + [GREGORY pushes him out. Exeunt PEASANTS. + +PORTER (who has repeatedly tried to say something).--Will there be any +answer? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Ah, from Bourdier? (Excitedly.) None! None! You can +take it back. I told her I never ordered such a costume, and I will +not allow my daughter to wear it! + +PORTER. I know nothing about it. I was sent.... + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Go, go, take it back! I will call myself about it! + +VASILY LEONIDITCH (solemnly). Sir Messenger from Bourdier, depart! + +PORTER. I might have been told that long ago. I have sat here nearly +five hours! + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Ambassador from Bourdier, begone! + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Cease, please! + + [Exit PORTER. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Betsy! Where is she? I always have to wait for her. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH (shouting at the top of his voice). Betsy! +PETRISTCHEF! Come quick, quick, quick! Eh? What? + + [Enter PETRISTCHEF, BETSY, and MARYA KONSTANTINOVNA. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. You always keep one waiting! + +BETSY. On the contrary, I was waiting for you! + + [PETRISTCHEF bows with his head only, then kisses ANNA PAVLOVNA'S + hand. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. How d'you do! (To BETSY.) You always have an answer +ready! + +BETSY. If you are upset, mamma, I had better not go. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Are we going or not? + +BETSY. Well, let us go; it can't be helped. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Did you see the man from Bourdier? + +BETSY. Yes, and I was very glad. I ordered the costume, and am going +to wear it when it is paid for. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. I am not going to pay for a costume that is indecent! + +BETSY. Why has it become indecent? First it was decent, and now you +have a fit of prudery. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Not prudery at all! If the bodice were completely +altered, then it would do. + +BETSY. Mamma, that is quite impossible. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Well, get dressed. + + [They sit down. GREGORY puts on their over-shoes for them. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Marya Konstantinovna, do you notice a vacuum in the +hall? + +MARYA KONSTANTINOVNA. What is it? + + [Laughs in anticipation. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Bourdier's man has gone! Eh, what? Good, eh? + + [Laughs loudly. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Well, let us go. (Goes out of the door, but returns at +once.) Tanya! + +TANYA. Yes, M'm? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Don't let Frisk catch cold while I am away. If she +wants to be let out, put on her little yellow cloak. She is not quite +well to-day. + +TANYA. Yes, M'm. + + [Exeunt ANNA PAVLOVNA, BETSY, and GREGORY. + +PETRISTCHEF. Well, have you got it? + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Not without trouble, I can tell you! First I rushed +at the gov'nor; he began to bellow and turned me out. Off to the +mater--I got it out of her. It's here! (Slaps his breast pocket.) If +once I make up my mind, there's no getting away from me. I have a +deadly grip! Eh, what? And d'you know, my wolf-hounds are coming +to-day. + + [PETRISTCHEF and VASILY LEONIDITCH put on their outdoor things + and go out. TANYA follows. + +THEODORE IVANITCH (alone). Yes, nothing but unpleasantness. How is it +they can't live in peace? But one must say the new generation are not +--the thing. And as to the women's dominion!... Why, Leonid Fyodoritch +just now was going to put in a word, but seeing what a frenzy she was +in--slammed the door behind him. He is a wonderfully kind-hearted man. +Yes, wonderfully kind. What's this? Here's Tanya bringing them back +again! + +TANYA. Come in, come in, grand-dads, never mind! + + [Enter TANYA and the PEASANTS. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Why have you brought them back? + +TANYA. Well, Theodore Ivanitch, we must do something about their +business. I shall have to wash the place anyhow. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. But the business will not come off, I see that +already. + +FIRST PEASANT. How could we best put our affair into action, respected +sir? Your reverence might take a little trouble over it, and we should +give you full thankings from the Commune for your trouble. + +THIRD PEASANT. Do try, honey! We can't live! We have so little land. +Talk of cattle--why, we have no room to keep a hen! + + [They bow. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. I am sorry for you, friends, but I can't think of +any way to help you. I understand your case very well, but he has +refused. So what can one do? Besides, the lady is also against it. +Well, give me your papers--I'll try and see what I can do, but I +hardly hope to succeed. + + [Exit. + + [TANYA and the three PEASANTS sigh. + +TANYA. But tell me, grand-dads, what is it that is wanted? + +FIRST PEASANT. Why, only that he should put his signature to our +document. + +TANYA. That the master should sign? Is that all? + +FIRST PEASANT. Yes, only lay his signature on the deed and take the +money, and there would be an end of the matter. + +THIRD PEASANT. He only has to write and sign, as the peasants, let's +say, desire, so, let's say, I also desire. That's the whole affair--if +he'd only take it and sign it, it's all done. + +TANYA (considering). He need only sign the paper and it's done? + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just so. The whole matter is in dependence on +that, and nothing else. Let him sign, and we ask no more. + +TANYA. Just wait and see what Theodore Ivanitch will say. If he cannot +persuade the master, I'll try something. + +FIRST PEASANT. Get round him, will you? + +TANYA. I'll try. + +THIRD PEASANT. Ay, the lass is going to bestir herself. Only get the +thing settled, and the Commune will bind itself to keep you all your +life. See there, now! + +FIRST PEASANT. If the affair can be put into action, truly we might +put her in a gold frame. + +SECOND PEASANT. That goes without saying! + +TANYA. I can't promise for certain, but as the saying is: "An attempt +is no sin, if you try...." + +FIRST PEASANT. "You may win." That's just so. + + [Enter THEODORE IVANITCH. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. No, friends, it's no go! He has not done it, and he +won't do it. Here, take your document. You may go. + +FIRST PEASANT (gives TANYA the paper). Then it's on you we pin all our +reliance, for example. + +TANYA. Yes, yes! You go into the street, and I'll run out to you in a +minute and have a word with you. + + [Exeunt PEASANTS. + +TANYA. Theodore Ivanitch, dear Theodore Ivanitch, ask the master to +come out and speak to me for a moment. I have something to say to him. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. What next? + +TANYA. I must, Theodore Ivanitch. Ask him, do; there's nothing wrong +about it, on my sacred word. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. But what do you want with him? + +TANYA. That's a little secret. I will tell you later on, only ask him. + +THEODORE IVANITCH (smiling). I can't think what you are up to! All +right, I'll go and ask him. + + [Exit. + +TANYA. I'll do it! Didn't he say himself that there is that power in +Simon? And I know how to manage. No one found me out that time, and +now I'll teach Simon what to do. If it doesn't succeed it's no great +matter. After all it's not a sin. + + [Enter LEONID FYODORITCH, followed by THEODORE IVANITCH. + +LEONID FYODORITCH (smiling). Is this the petitioner? Well, what is +your business? + +TANYA. It's a little secret, Leonid Fyodoritch; let me tell it you +alone. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. What is it? Theodore, leave us for a minute. + + [Exit THEODORE IVANITCH. + +TANYA. As I have grown up and lived in your house, Leonid Fyodoritch, +and as I am very grateful to you for everything, I shall open my heart +to you as to a father. Simon, who is living in your house, wants to +marry me. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. So that's it! + +TANYA. I open my heart to you as to a father! I have no one to advise +me, being an orphan. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Well, and why not? He seems a nice lad. + +TANYA. Yes, that's true. He would be all right; there is only one +thing I have my doubts about. It's something about him that I have +noticed and can't make out ... perhaps it is something bad. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. What is it? Does he drink? + +TANYA. God forbid! But since I know that there is such a thing as +spiritalism.... + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Ah, you know that? + +TANYA. Of course! I understand it very well. Some, of course, through +ignorance, don't understand it. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Well, what then? + +TANYA. I am very much afraid for Simon. It does happen to him. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. What happens to him? + +TANYA. Something of a kind like spiritalism. You ask any of the +servants. As soon as he gets drowsy at the table, the table begins to +tremble, and creak like that: tuke, ... tuke! All the servants have +heard it. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Why, it's the very thing I was saying to Sergey +Ivanitch this morning! Yes?... + +TANYA. Or else ... when was it?... Oh, yes, last Wednesday. We sat +down to dinner, and the spoon just jumps into his hand of itself! + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Ah, that is interesting! Jumps into his hand? When +he was drowsing? + +TANYA. That I didn't notice. I think he was, though. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Yes?... + +TANYA. And that's what I'm afraid of, and what I wanted to ask you +about. May not some harm come of it? To live one's life together, and +him having such a thing in him! + +LEONID FYODORITCH (smiling). No, you need not be afraid, there is +nothing bad in that. It only proves him to be a medium--simply a +medium. I knew him to be a medium before this. + +TANYA. So that's what it is! And I was afraid! + +LEONID FYODORITCH. No, there's nothing to be afraid of. (Aside.) +That's capital! Kaptchitch can't come, so we will test him +to-night.... (To TANYA.) No, my dear, don't be afraid, he will be a +good husband and ... that is only a kind of special power, and every +one has it, only in some it is weaker and in others stronger. + +TANYA. Thank you, sir. Now I shan't think any more about it; but I was +so frightened.... What a thing it is, our want of education! + +LEONID FYODORITCH. No, no, don't be frightened.... Theodore! + + [Enter THEODORE IVANITCH. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. I am going out now. Get everything ready for +to-night's seance. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. But Mr. Kaptchitch is not coming. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. That does not matter. (Puts on overcoat.) We shall +have a trial seance with our own medium. + + [Exit. THEODORE IVANITCH goes out with him. + +TANYA (alone). He believes it! He believes it! (Shrieks and jumps with +joy.) He really believes it! Isn't it wonderful! (Shrieks.) Now I'll +do it, if only Simon has pluck for it! + + [THEODORE IVANITCH returns. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Well, have you told him your secret? + +TANYA. I'll tell you, too, only later on.... But I have a favor to ask +of you, too, Theodore Ivanitch. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Yes? What is it? + +TANYA (shyly). You have been a second father to me, and I will open my +heart before you as before God. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Don't beat about the bush, but come straight to the +point. + +TANYA. The point is ... well, the point is, that Simon wants to marry +me. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Is that it? I thought I noticed.... + +TANYA. Well, why should I hide it? I am an orphan, and you know +yourself how matters are in these town establishments. Every one comes +bothering; there's that Gregory Mihaylitch, for instance, he gives me +no peace. And also that other one ... you know. They think I have no +soul, and am only here for their amusement. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Good girl, that's right! Well, what then? + +TANYA. Well, Simon wrote to his father; and he, his father, sees me +to-day, and says: "He's spoilt"--he means his son. Theodore Ivanitch +(bows), take the place of a father to me, speak to the old man,--to +Simon's father! I could take them into the kitchen, and you might come +in and speak to the old man! + +THEODORE IVANITCH (smiling). Then I am to turn match-maker--am I? +Well, I can do that. + +TANYA. Theodore Ivanitch, dearest, be a father to me, and I'll pray +for you all my life long. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. All right, all right, I'll come later on. Haven't I +promised? + + [Takes up newspaper. + +TANYA. You are a second father to me! + +THEODORE IVANITCH. All right, all right. + +TANYA. Then I'll rely on you. + + [Exit. + +THEODORE IVANITCH (alone, shaking his head). A good affectionate girl. +To think that so many like her perish! Get but once into trouble and +she'll go from hand to hand until she sinks into the mire, and can +never be found again! There was that dear little Nataly. She, too, was +a good girl, reared and cared for by a mother. (Takes up paper.) Well, +let's see what tricks Ferdinand is up to in Bulgaria. + +CURTAIN + + + + +ACT II + +Evening of the same day. The scene represents the interior of the +servants' kitchen. The PEASANTS have taken off their outer garments +and sit drinking tea at the table, and perspiring. THEODORE IVANITCH +is smoking a cigar at the other side of the stage. The discharged COOK +is lying on the brick oven, and is unseen during the early part of the +scene. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. My advice is, don't hinder him! If it's his wish +and hers, in Heaven's name, let him do it. She is a good, honest girl. +Never mind her being a bit dressy; she can't help that, living in +town: she is a good girl all the same. + +SECOND PEASANT. Well, of course, if it is his wish, let him! He'll +have to live with her, not me. But she's certainly uncommon spruce. +How's one to take her into one's hut? Why, she'll not let her +mother-in-law so much as pat her on the head. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. That does not depend on the spruceness, but on +character. If her nature is good, she's sure to be docile and +respectful. + +SECOND PEASANT. Ah, well, we'll have her if the lad's bent on having +her. After all, it's a bad job to live with one as one don't care for. +I'll consult my missus, and then may Heaven bless them! + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Then let's shake hands on it! + +SECOND PEASANT. Well, it seems it will have to come off. + +FIRST PEASANT. Eh, Zachary! fortune's a-smiling on you! You've come to +accomplish a piece of business, and just see what a duchess of a +daughter-in-law you've obtained. All that's left to be done is to have +a drink on it, and then it will be all in order. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. That's not at all necessary. + + [An awkward silence. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. I know something of your way of life, too, you +know. I am even thinking of purchasing a bit of land, building a +cottage, and working on the land myself somewhere; maybe in your +neighborhood. + +SECOND PEASANT. A very good thing, too. + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just it. When one has got the money one can get +all kinds of pleasure in the country. + +THIRD PEASANT. Say no more about it! Country life let's say, is freer +in every way, not like the town! + +THEODORE IVANITCH. There now, would you let me join your Commune if I +settled among you? + +SECOND PEASANT. Why not? If you stand drink for the Elders, they'll +accept you soon enough! + +FIRST PEASANT. And if you open a public-house, for example, or an inn, +why, you'd have such a life you'd never need to die! You might live +like a king, and no mistake. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Well, we'll see. I should certainly like to have a +few quiet years in my old age. Though my life here is good enough, and +I should be sorry to leave. Leonid Fyodoritch is an exceedingly +kind-hearted man. + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just it. But how about our business? Is it +possible that he is going to leave it without any termination? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. He'd do it willingly. + +SECOND PEASANT. It seems he's afraid of his wife. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. It's not that he's afraid, but they don't hit +things off together. + +THIRD PEASANT. But you should try, father! How are we to live else? +We've so little land.... + +THEODORE IVANITCH. We'll see what comes of Tanya's attempt. She's +taken the business into her hands now! + +THIRD PEASANT (takes a sip of tea). Father, be merciful. We've so +little land. A hen, let's say, we've no room for a hen, let alone the +cattle. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. If the business depended on me.... (To SECOND +PEASANT.) Well, friend, so we've done our bit of match-making! It's +agreed then about Tanya? + +SECOND PEASANT. I've given my word, and I'll not go back on it without +a good reason. If only our business succeeds! + + [Enter SERVANTS' COOK, who looks up at the oven, makes a sign, + and then begins to speak animatedly to THEODORE IVANITCH. + +SERVANTS' COOK. Just now Simon was called upstairs from the front +kitchen! The master and that other bald-headed one who calls up +spirits with him, ordered him to sit down and take the place of +Kaptchitch! + +THEODORE IVANITCH. You don't say so! + +SERVANTS' COOK. Yes, Jacob told Tanya. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Extraordinary! + + [Enter COACHMAN. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. What do you want? + +COACHMAN (to THEODORE IVANITCH). You may just tell them I never agreed +to live with a lot of dogs! Let any one who likes do it, but I will +never agree to live among dogs! + +THEODORE IVANITCH. What dogs? + +COACHMAN. Three dogs have been sent into our room by Vasily +Leoniditch! They've messed it all over. They're whining, and if one +comes near them they bite--the devils! They'd tear you to pieces if +you didn't mind. I've a good mind to take a club and smash their legs +for them! + +THEODORE IVANITCH. But when did they come? + +COACHMAN. Why, to-day, from the Dog Show; the devil knows what kind +they are, but they're an expensive sort. Are we or the dogs to live in +the coachmen's quarters? You just go and ask! + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Yes, that will never do. I'll go and ask about it. + +COACHMAN. They'd better be brought here to Loukerya. + +SERVANTS' COOK (angrily). People have to eat here, and you'd like to +lock dogs in here! As it is.... + +COACHMAN. And I've got the liveries, and the sledge-covers and the +harness there, and they expect things kept clean! Perhaps the porter's +lodge might do. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. I must ask Vasily Leoniditch. + +COACHMAN (angrily). He'd better hang the brutes round his neck and lug +them about with him! But no fear: he'd rather ride on horseback +himself. It's he as spoilt. Beauty without rhyme or reason. That was a +horse!... Oh, dear! what a life! + + [Exit, slamming door. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. That's not right! Certainly not right! (To +PEASANTS.) Well, then, it's time we were saying good-bye, friends. + +PEASANTS. Good-bye! + + [Exit THEODORE IVANITCH. + + [As soon as he is gone a sound of groaning is heard from the top + of the oven. + +SECOND PEASANT. He's sleek, that one; looks like a general. + +SERVANTS' COOK. Rather! Why he has a room all to himself; he gets his +washing, his tea and sugar, and food from the master's table. + +DISCHARGED COOK (on the oven). Why shouldn't the old beggar live well? +He's lined his pockets all right! + +SECOND PEASANT. Who's that up there, on the oven? + +SERVANTS' COOK. Oh, it's only a man. + + [Silence. + +FIRST PEASANT. Well, and you, too, as I noticed a while since when you +were supping, have capital food to eat. + +SERVANTS' COOK. We can't complain. She's not mean about the food. We +have wheat bread every Sunday, and fish when a holiday happens to be a +fast-day, too, and those who like may eat meat. + +SECOND PEASANT. And does any one tuck into flesh on fast-days? + +SERVANTS' COOK. Oh, they nearly all do! Only the old coachman--not the +one who was here just now but the old one--and Simon, and I and the +housekeeper, fast--all the others eat meat. + +SECOND PEASANT. And the master himself? + +SERVANTS' COOK. Catch him! Why, I bet he's forgotten there is such a +thing as fasting! + +THIRD PEASANT. Oh, Lord! + +FIRST PEASANT. That's the gentlefolks' way: they have got it all out +of their books. 'Cos of their intelex! + +THIRD PEASANT. Shouldn't wonder if they feed on wheat bread every day! + +SERVANTS' COOK. Wheat bread, indeed! Much they think of wheat bread! +You should see what food they eat. No end of different things! + +FIRST PEASANT. In course gentlefolks' food is of an airial kind. + +SERVANTS' COOK. Airial, of course, but all the same they're good at +stuffing themselves, they are! + +FIRST PEASANT. Have healthy appekites, so to say. + +SERVANTS' COOK. 'Cos they always rinse it down! All with sweet wines, +and spirits, and fizzy liquors. They have a different one to suit +every kind of food. They eat and rinse it down, and eat and rinse it +down, they do. + +FIRST PEASANT. And so the food's floated down in proportion, so to +say. + +SERVANTS' COOK. Ah, yes, they are good at stuffing! It's awful! You +see, it's not just sitting down, eating, then saying grace and going +away--they're always at it! + +SECOND PEASANT. Like pigs with their feet in the trough! + + [Peasants laugh. + +SERVANTS' COOK. As soon as, by God's grace, they have opened their +eyes, the samovar is brought in--tea, coffee, chocolate. Hardly is the +second samovar emptied, a third has to be set. Then lunch, then +dinner, then again coffee. They've hardly left off, then comes tea, +and all sorts of tit-bits and sweetmeats--there's never an end to it! +They even lie in bed and eat! + +THIRD PEASANT. There now; that's good. + + [Laughs. + +FIRST AND SECOND PEASANTS. What are you about? + +THIRD PEASANT. If I could only live a single day like that! + +SECOND PEASANT. But when do they do their work? + +SERVANTS' COOK. Work indeed! What is their work? Cards and piano-- +that's all their work. The young lady used to sit down to the piano as +soon as she opened her eyes, and off she'd go! And that other one who +lives here, the teacher, stands and waits. "When will the piano be +free?" When one has finished, off rattles the other, and sometimes +they'd put two pianos near one another and four of 'em would bust out +at once. Bust out in such a manner, you could hear 'em down here! + +THIRD PEASANT. Oh, Lord! + +SERVANTS' COOK. Well, and that's all the work they do! Piano or cards! +As soon as they have met together--cards, wine, smoking, and so on, +all night long. And as soon as they are up: eating again! + + [Enter SIMON. + +SIMON. Hope you're enjoying your tea! + +FIRST PEASANT. Come and join us. + +SIMON. (comes up to the table). Thank you kindly. + + [First PEASANT pours out a cup of tea for him. + +SECOND PEASANT. Where have you been? + +SIMON. Upstairs. + +SECOND PEASANT. Well, and what was being done there? + +SIMON. Why, I couldn't make it out at all! I don't know how to explain +it. + +SECOND PEASANT. But what was it? + +SIMON. I can't explain it. They have been trying some kind of strength +in me. I can't make it out. Tanya says, "Do it, and we'll get the land +for our peasants; he'll sell it them." + +SECOND PEASANT. But how is she going to manage it? + +SIMON. I can't make it out, and she won't say. She says, "Do as I tell +you," and that's all. + +SECOND PEASANT. But what is it you have to do? + +SIMON. Nothing just now. They made me sit down, put out the lights and +told me to sleep. And Tanya had hidden herself there. They didn't see +her, but I did. + +SECOND PEASANT. Why? What for? + +SIMON. The Lord only knows--I can't make it out. + +FIRST PEASANT. Naturally, it is for the distraction of time. + +SECOND PEASANT. Well, it's clear you and I can make nothing of it. You +had better tell me whether you have taken all your wages yet. + +SIMON. No, I've not drawn any. I have twenty-eight roubles to the +good, I think. + +SECOND PEASANT. That's all right! Well, if God grants that we get the +land, I'll take you home, Simon. + +SIMON. With all my heart! + +SECOND PEASANT. You've got spoilt, I should say. You'll not want to +plough? + +SIMON. Plough? Only give me the chance! Plough or mow,--I'm game. +Those are things one doesn't forget. + +FIRST PEASANT. But it don't seem very desirous after town life, for +example? Eh! + +SIMON. It's good enough for me. One can live in the country, too. + +FIRST PEASANT. And Daddy Mitry here is already on the look-out for +your place; he's hankering after a life of luckshury! + +SIMON. Eh, Daddy Mitry, you'd soon get sick of it. It seems easy +enough when one looks at it, but there's a lot of running about that +takes it out of one. + +SERVANTS' COOK. You should see one of their balls, Daddy Mitry, then +you would be surprised! + +THIRD PEASANT. Why, do they eat all the time? + +SERVANTS' COOK. My eye! You should have seen what we had here awhile +ago. Theodore Ivanitch took me upstairs and I peeped in. The ladies-- +awful! Dressed up! Dressed up, bless my heart, and all bare down to +here, and their arms bare. + +THIRD PEASANT. Oh, Lord! + +SECOND PEASANT. Faugh! How beastly! + +FIRST PEASANT. I take it the climate allows of that sort of thing! + +SERVANTS' COOK. Well, daddy, so I peeped in. Dear me, what it was +like! All of 'em in their natural skins! Would you believe it: old +women--our mistress, only think, she's a grandmother, and even she'd +gone and bared her shoulders. + +THIRD PEASANT. Oh, Lord! + +SERVANTS' COOK. And what next? The music strikes up, and each man of +'em went up to his own, catches hold of her, and off they go twirling +round and round! + +SECOND PEASANT. The old women, too? + +SERVANTS' COOK. Yes, the old ones, too. + +SIMON. No, the old ones sit still. + +SERVANTS' COOK. Get along,--I've seen it myself! + +SIMON. No, they don't. + +DISCHARGED COOK (in a hoarse voice, looking down from the oven). +That's the Polka-Mazurka. You fools don't understand what dancing is. +The way they dance.... + +SERVANTS' COOK. Shut up, you dancer! And keep quiet--there's some one +coming. + + [Enter GREGORY; old COOK hides hurriedly. + +GREGORY (to SERVANTS' COOK). Bring some sour cabbage. + +SERVANTS' COOK. I am only just up from the cellar, and now I must go +down again! Who is it for? + +GREGORY. For the young ladies. Be quick, and send it up with Simon. I +can't wait! + +SERVANTS' COOK. There now, they tuck into sweetmeats till they are +full up, and then they crave for sour cabbage! + +FIRST PEASANT. That's to make a clearance. + +SERVANTS' COOK. Of course, and as soon as there is room inside, they +begin again! + + [Takes basin, and exit. + +GREGORY (at PEASANTS). Look at them, how they've established +themselves down here! Mind, if the mistress finds it out she'll give +it you hot, like she did this morning! + + [Exit, laughing. + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just it, she did raise a storm that time--awful! + +SECOND PEASANT. That time it looked as if the master was going to step +in, but seeing that the missus was about to blow the very roof off the +house, he slams the door. Have your own way, thinks he. + +THIRD PEASANT (waving his arm). It's the same everywhere. My old +woman, let's say, she kicks up such a rumpus sometimes--it's just +awful! Then I just get out of the hut. Let her go to Jericho! She'll +give you one with the poker if you don't mind. Oh, Lord! + + [JACOB enters hurriedly with a prescription. + +JACOB. Here, Simon, you run to the chemist's and get these powders for +the mistress! + +SIMON. But master told me not to go out. + +JACOB. You've plenty of time; your business won't begin till after +their tea. Hope you are enjoying your tea! + +FIRST PEASANT. Thanks, come and join us. + + [Exit SIMON. + +JACOB. I haven't time. However, I'll just have one cup for company's +sake. + +FIRST PEASANT. And we've just been having a conversation as to how +your mistress carried on so haughty this morning. + +JACOB. Oh, she's a reg'lar fury! So hot-tempered, that she gets quite +beside herself. Sometimes she even bursts out crying. + +FIRST PEASANT. Now, there's a thing I wanted to ask you about. What, +for example, be these mikerots she was illuding to erewhile? "They've +infested the house with mikerots, with mikerots," she says. What is +one to make of these same mikerots? + +JACOB. Mikerogues, you mean! Well, it seems there is such a kind of +bugs; all illnesses come from them, they say. So she says there are +some of 'em on you. After you were gone, they washed and washed and +sprinkled the place where you had stood. There's a kind of physic as +kills these same bugs, they say. Second Peasant. Then where have we +got these bugs on us? + +JACOB (drinking his tea). Why, they say they're so small that one +can't see 'em even through a glass. + +SECOND PEASANT. Then how does she know I've got 'em on me? Perhaps +there's more of that muck on her than on me! + +JACOB. There now, you go and ask her! + +SECOND PEASANT. I believe it's humbug. + +JACOB. Of course it's bosh. The doctors must invent something, or else +what are they paid for? There's one comes to us every day. Comes,-- +talks a bit,--and pockets ten roubles! + +SECOND PEASANT. Nonsense! + +JACOB. Why, there's one as takes a hundred! + +FIRST PEASANT. A hundred? Humbug! + +JACOB. A hundred. Humbug, you say? Why, if he has to go out of town, +he'll not do it for less than a thousand! "Give a thousand," he says, +"or else you may kick the bucket for what I care!" + +THIRD PEASANT. Oh, Lord! + +SECOND PEASANT. Then does he know some charm? + +JACOB. I suppose he must. I served at a General's outside Moscow once: +a cross, terrible proud old fellow he was--just awful. Well, this +General's daughter fell ill. They send for that doctor at once. "A +thousand roubles, then I'll come." Well, they agreed, and he came. +Then they did something or other he didn't like, and he bawled out at +the General and says, "Is this the way you show your respect for me? +Then I'll not attend her!" And, oh, my! The old General forgot all his +pride, and starts wheedling him in every way not to chuck up the job! + +FIRST PEASANT. And he got the thousand? + +JACOB. Of course! + +SECOND PEASANT. That's easy got money. What wouldn't a peasant do with +such a sum! + +THIRD PEASANT. And I think it's all bosh. That time my foot was +festering I had it doctored ever so long. I spent nigh on five roubles +on it,--then I gave up doctoring, and it got all right! + + [DISCHARGED COOK on the oven coughs. + +JACOB. Ah, the old crony is here again! + +FIRST PEASANT. Who might that man be? + +JACOB. He used to be our master's cook. He comes to see Loukerya. + +FIRST PEASANT. Kitchen-master, as one might say. Then, does he live +here? + +JACOB. No, they won't allow that. He's here one day, there another. If +he's got a copper he goes to a dosshouse; but when he has drunk all, +he comes here. + +SECOND PEASANT. How did he come to this? + +JACOB. Simply grew weak. And what a man he used to be--like a +gentleman! Went about with a gold watch; got forty roubles a month +wages. And now look at him! He'd have starved to death long ago if it +hadn't been for Loukerya. + + [Enter SERVANTS' COOK with the sour cabbage. + +JACOB (to SERVANTS' COOK). I see you've got Paul Petrovitch here +again? + +SERVANTS' COOK. And where's he to go to? Is he to go and freeze? + +THIRD PEASANT. What liquor does.... Liquor, let's say.... + + [Clicks his tongue sympathetically. + +SECOND PEASANT. Of course. A firm man's firm as a rock; a weak man's +weaker than water. + +DISCHARGED COOK (gets off the oven with trembling hands and legs). +Loukerya, I say, give us a drop! + +SERVANTS' COOK. What are you up to? I'll give you such a drop!... + +DISCHARGED COOK. Have you no conscience? I'm dying! Brothers, a +copper.... + +SERVANTS' COOK. Get back on the oven, I tell you! + +DISCHARGED COOK. Half a glass only, cook, for Heaven's sake! I say, do +you understand? I ask you in the name of Heaven, now! + +SERVANTS' COOK. Come along, here's some tea for you. + +DISCHARGED COOK. Tea; what is tea? Weak, sloppy stuff. A little vodka +--just one little drop.... Loukerya! + +THIRD PEASANT. Poor old soul, what agony it is! + +SECOND PEASANT. You'd better give him some. + +SERVANTS' COOK (gets out a bottle and fills a wine-glass). Here you +are; you'll get no more. + +DISCHARGED COOK (clutches hold of it and drinks, trembling all over). +Loukerya, Cook! I am drinking, and you must understand.... + +SERVANTS' COOK. Now, then, stop your chatter! Get on to the oven, and +let not a breath of you be heard! + + [The old COOK meekly begins to climb up, muttering something to + himself. + +SECOND PEASANT. What it is, when a man gives way to his weakness! + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just it--human weakness. + +THIRD PEASANT. That goes without saying. + + [The DISCHARGED COOK settles down, muttering all the time. + + [Silence. + +SECOND PEASANT. I want to ask you something: that girl of Aksinya's as +comes from our village and is living here. How is she? What is she +like? How is she living--I mean, does she live honest? + +JACOB. She's a nice girl; one can say nothing but good of her. + +SERVANTS' COOK. I'll tell you straight, daddy; I know this here +establishment out and out, and if you mean to have Tanya for your +son's wife--be quick about it, before she comes to grief, or else +she'll not escape! + +JACOB. Yes, that's true. A while ago we had a girl here, Nataly. She +was a good girl too. And she was lost without rhyme or reason. No +better than that chap! + + [Pointing to the old COOK. + +SERVANTS' COOK. There's enough to dam a mill-pool, with the likes of +us, as perish! 'Cos why, every one is tempted by the easy life and the +good food. And see there,--as soon as one has tasted the good food she +goes and slips. And once she's slipped, they don't want her, but get a +fresh one in her place. So it was with dear little Nataly; she also +slipped, and they turned her out. She had a child and fell ill, and +died in the hospital last spring. And what a girl she used to be! + +THIRD PEASANT. Oh, Lord! People are weak; they ought to be pitied. + +DISCHARGED COOK. Those devils pity? No fear! (He hangs his legs down +from the oven.) I have stood roasting myself by the kitchen range for +thirty years, and now that I am not wanted, I may go and die like a +dog.... Pity indeed!... + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just it. It's the old circumstances. + +SECOND PEASANT. While they drank and they fed, you were "curly head." +When they'd finished the prog, 'twas "Get out, mangy dog!" + +THIRD PEASANT. Oh Lord! + +DISCHARGED COOK. Much you know. What is "Sautey a la Bongmont"? What +is "Bavassary"? Oh, the things I could make! Think of it! The Emperor +tasted my work, and now the devils want me no longer. But I am not +going to stand it! + +SERVANTS' COOK. Now, then, stop that noise, mind.... Get up right into +the corner, so that no one can see you, or else Theodore Ivanitch or +some one may come in, and both you and me'll be turned out! + + [Silence. + +JACOB. And do you know my part of the country? I'm from Voznesensky. + +SECOND PEASANT. Not know it? Why, it's no more'n ten miles from our +village; not that across the ford! Do you cultivate any land there? + +JACOB. My brother does, and I send my wages. Though I live here, I am +dying for a sight of home. + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just it. + +SECOND PEASANT. Then Anisim is your brother? + +JACOB. Own brother. He lives at the farther end of the village. + +SECOND PEASANT. Of course, I know; his is the third house. + + [Enter TANYA, running. + +TANYA. Jacob, what are you doing, amusing yourself here? She is +calling you! + +JACOB. I'm coming; but what's up? + +TANYA. Frisk is barking; it's hungry. And she's scolding you. "How +cruel he is," she says. "He's no feeling," she says. "It's long past +Frisk's dinner-time, and he has not brought her food!" + + [Laughs. + +JACOB (rises to go). Oh, she's cross? What's going to happen now, I +wonder? + +SERVANTS' COOK. Here, take the cabbage with you. + +JACOB. All right, give it here. + + [Takes basin, and exit. + +FIRST PEASANT. Who is going to dine now? + +TANYA. Why, the dog! It's her dog. (Sits down and takes up the +tea-pot.) Is there any more tea? I've brought some. + + [Puts fresh tea into the tea-pot. + +FIRST PEASANT. Dinner for a dog? + +TANYA. Yes, of course! They prepare a special cutlet for her; it must +not be too fat. And I do the washing--the dog's washing, I mean. + +THIRD PEASANT. Oh Lord! + +TANYA. It's like that gentleman who had a funeral for his dog. + +SECOND PEASANT. What's that? + +TANYA. Why, some one told me he had a dog--I mean the gentleman had a +dog. And it died. It was winter, and he went in his sledge to bury +that dog. Well, he buried it, and on the way home he sits and cries-- +the gentleman does. Well, there was such a bitter frost that the +coachman's nose keeps running, and he has to keep wiping it. Let me +fill your cup! (Fills it.) So he keeps wiping his nose, and the +gentleman sees it, and says, "What are you crying about?" And the +coachman, he says, "Why, sir, how can I help it; is there another dog +like him?" + + [Laughs. + +SECOND PEASANT. And I daresay he thinks to himself, "If your own self +was to kick the bucket I'd not cry." + + [Laughs. + +DISCHARGED COOK (from up on the oven). That is true; that's right! + +TANYA. Well, the gentleman, he gets home and goes straight to his +lady: "What a good-hearted man our coachman is; he was crying all the +way home about poor Dash. Have him called.... Here, drink this glass +of vodka," he says, "and here's a rouble as a reward for you." That's +just like her saying Jacob has no feelings for her dog! + + [The PEASANTS laugh. + +FIRST PEASANT. That's the style! + +SECOND PEASANT. That was a go! + +THIRD PEASANT. Aye, lassie, but you've set us a-laughing! + +TANYA (pouring out more tea). Have some more! Yes, it only seems that +our life is pleasant; but sometimes it is very disgusting,--clearing +up all their messes! Faugh! It's better in the country. (PEASANTS turn +their cups upside-down, as a polite sign that they have had enough. +TANYA pours out more tea.) Have some more, Efim Antonitch. I'll fill +your cup, Mitry Vlasitch. + +THIRD PEASANT. All right, fill it, fill it. + +FIRST PEASANT. Well, dear, and what progression is our business +making? + +TANYA. It's getting on.... + +FIRST PEASANT. Simon told us.... + +TANYA. (quickly). Did he? + +SECOND PEASANT. But he could not make us understand. + +TANYA. I can't tell you now, but I'm doing my best--all I can! And +I've got your paper here! (Shows the paper hidden under the bib of her +apron.) If only one thing succeeds ... (Shrieks.) Oh, how nice it +would be! + +SECOND PEASANT. Don't lose that paper, mind. It has cost money. + +TANYA. Never fear. You only want him to sign it? Is that all? + +THIRD PEASANT. Why, what else? Let's say he's signed it, and it's +done! (Turns his cup upside-down.) I've had enough. + +TANYA (aside). He'll sign it; you'll see he will.... Have some more. + + [Pours out tea. + +FIRST PEASANT. If only you get this business about the sale of the +land settled, the Commune would pay your marriage expenses. + + [Refuses the tea. + +TANYA (pouring out tea). Do have another cup. + +THIRD PEASANT. You get it done, and we'll arrange your marriage, and I +myself, let's say, will dance at the wedding. Though I've never danced +in all my born days, I'll dance then! + +TANYA (laughing). All right, I'll be in hopes of it. + + [Silence. + +SECOND PEASANT (examines TANYA). That's all very well, but you're not +fit for peasant work. + +TANYA. Who? I? Why, don't you think me strong enough? You should see +me lacing up my mistress. There's many a peasant couldn't tug as hard. + +SECOND PEASANT. Where do you tug her to? + +TANYA. Well, there's a thing made with bone, like--something like a +stiff jacket, only up to here! Well, and I pull the strings just as +when you saddle a horse--when you ... what d'ye call it? You know, +when you spit on your hands! + +SECOND PEASANT. Tighten the girths, you mean. + +TANYA. Yes, yes, that's it. And you know I mustn't shove against her +with my knee. + + [Laughs. + +SECOND PEASANT. Why do you pull her in? + +TANYA. For a reason! + +SECOND PEASANT. Why, is she doing penance? + +TANYA. No, it's for beauty's sake! + +FIRST PEASANT. That's to say, you pull in her paunch for appearance' +sake. + +TANYA. Sometimes I lace her up so that her eyes are ready to start +from her head, and she says, "Tighter," till my hands tingle. And you +say I'm not strong! + + [PEASANTS laugh and shake their heads. + +TANYA. But here, I've been jabbering. + + [Runs away, laughing. + +THIRD PEASANT. Ah, the lassie has made us laugh! + +FIRST PEASANT. She's a tidy one! + +SECOND PEASANT. She's not bad. + + [Enter SAHATOF and VASILY LEONIDITCH. SAHATOF holds a teaspoon in + his hand. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Not exactly a dinner, but a dejeuner dinatoire. And +first-rate it was, I tell you. Ham of sucking-pig, delicious! Roulier +feeds one splendidly! I've only just returned. (Sees PEASANTS.) Ah, +the peasants are here again! + +SAHATOF. Yes, yes, that's all very well, but we came here to hide this +article. Where shall we hide it? + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Excuse me a moment. (To SERVANTS' COOK.) Where are +the dogs? + +SERVANTS' COOK. In the coachman's quarters. You can't keep dogs in the +servants' kitchen! + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Ah, in the coachman's quarters? All right. + +SAHATOF. I am waiting. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Excuse me, please. Eh, what? Hide it? I'll tell you +what. Let's put it into one of the peasants' pockets. That one. I say, +where's your pocket? Eh, what? + +THIRD PEASANT. What for d'ye want my pocket? You're a good 'un! My +pocket! There's money in my pocket! + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Where's your bag, then? + +THIRD PEASANT. What for? + +SERVANTS' COOK. What d'you mean? That's the young master! + +VASILY LEONIDITCH (laughs. To SAHATOF). D'you know why he's so +frightened? Shall I tell you? He's got a heap of money. Eh, what? + +SAHATOF. Yes, yes, I see. Well, you talk to them a bit, and I'll put +it into that bag without being observed, so that they should not +notice and could not point it out to him. Talk to them. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. All right! (To PEASANTS.) Well then, old fellows, +how about the land? Are you buying it? Eh, what? + +FIRST PEASANT. We have made an offering, so to say, with our whole +heart. But there,--the business don't come into action nohow. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. You should not be so stingy! Land is an important +matter! I told you about planting mint. Or else tobacco would also do. + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just it. Every kind of producks. + +THIRD PEASANT. And you help us, master. Ask your father. Or else how +are we to live? There's so little land. A fowl, let's say, there's not +enough room for a fowl to run about. + +SAHATOF (having put the spoon into a bag belonging to the THIRD +PEASANT). C'est fait. Ready. Come along. + + [Exit. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. So don't be stingy! Eh? Well, good-bye. + + [Exit. + +THIRD PEASANT. Didn't I say, come to some lodging-house? Well, +supposing we'd had to give three-pence each, then at least we'd have +been in peace. As to here, the Lord be merciful! "Give us the money," +he says. What's that for? + +SECOND PEASANT. He's drunk, I daresay. + + [PEASANTS turn their cups upside-down, rise, and cross themselves. + +FIRST PEASANT. And d'you mind what a saying he threw out? Sowing mint! +One must know how to understand them, that one must! + +SECOND PEASANT. Sow mint indeed! He'd better bend his own back at that +work, and then it's not mint he'll hanker after, no fear! Well, many +thanks!... And now, good woman, would you tell us where we could lie +down to sleep? + +SERVANTS' COOK. One of you can lie on the oven, and the others on +these benches. + +THIRD PEASANT. Christ save you! + + [Prays, crossing himself. + +FIRST PEASANT. If only by God's help we get our business settled! +(Lies down.) Then to-morrow, after dinner, we'd be off by the train, +and on Tuesday we'd be home again. + +SECOND PEASANT. Are you going to put out the light? + +SERVANTS' COOK. Put it out? Oh, no! They'll keep running down here, +first for one thing then another.... You lie down, I'll lower it. + +SECOND PEASANT. How is one to live, having so little land? Why, this +year, I have had to buy corn since Christmas. And the oat-straw is all +used up. I'd like to get hold of ten acres, and then I could take +Simon back. + +THIRD PEASANT. You're a man with a family. You'd get the land +cultivated without trouble. If only the business comes off. + +SECOND PEASANT. We must pray to the Holy Virgin, maybe she'll help us +out. (Silence, broken by sighs. Then footsteps and voices are heard +outside. The door opens. Enter GROSSMAN hurriedly, with his eyes +bandaged, holding SAHATOF'S hand, and followed by the PROFESSOR and +the DOCTOR, the FAT LADY and LEONID FYODORITCH, BETSY and PETRISTCHEF, +VASILY LEONIDITCH and MARYA KONSTANTINOVNA, ANNA PAVLOVNA and the +BARONESS, THEODORE IVANITCH and TANYA.) + + [PEASANTS jump up. GROSSMAN comes forward stepping quickly, then + stops. + +FAT LADY. You need not trouble yourselves; I have undertaken the task +of observing, and am strictly fulfilling my duty! Mr. Sahatof, are you +not leading him? + +SAHATOF. Of course not! + +FAT LADY. You must not lead him, but neither must you resist! (To +LEONID FYODORITCH.) I know these experiments. I have tried them +myself. Sometimes I used to feel a certain effluence, and as soon as I +felt it.... + +LEONID FYODORITCH. May I beg of you to keep perfect silence? + +FAT LADY. Oh, I understand so well! I have experienced it myself. As +soon as my attention was diverted I could no longer.... + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Sh...! + + [GROSSMAN goes about, searches near the FIRST and SECOND + PEASANTS, then approaches the THIRD, and stumbles over a bench. + +BARONESS. Mais dites-moi, on le paye?[6] + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Je ne saurais vous dire. + +BARONESS. Mais c'est un monsieur? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Oh, oui! + +BARONESS. Ca tient du miraculeux. N'est ce pas? Comment est-ce qu'il +trouve? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Je ne saurais vous dire. Mon mari vous l'expliquera. +(Noticing PEASANTS, turns round, and sees the SERVANTS' COOK.) Pardon +... what is this? + + [BARONESS goes up to the group. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. (to SERVANTS' COOK). Who let the peasants in? + +SERVANTS' COOK. Jacob brought them in. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Who gave Jacob the order? + +SERVANTS' COOK. I can't say. Theodore Ivanitch has seen them. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Leonid! + + [LEONID FYODORITCH does not hear, being absorbed in the search, + and says, Sh.... + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Theodore Ivanitch! What is the meaning of this? Did you +not see me disinfecting the whole hall, and now the whole kitchen is +infected, all the rye bread, the milk.... + +THEODORE IVANITCH. I thought there would not be any danger if they +came here. The men have come on business. They have far to go, and are +from our village. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. That's the worst of it! They are from the Koursk +village, where people are dying of diphtheria like flies! But the +chief thing is, I ordered them out of the house!... Did I, or did I +not? (Approaches the others that have gathered round the PEASANTS.) Be +careful! Don't touch them--they are all infected with diphtheria! + + [No one heeds her, and she steps aside in a dignified manner and + stands quietly waiting. + +PETRISTCHEF (sniffs loudly). I don't know if it is diphtheria, but +there is some kind of infection in the air. Don't you notice it? + +BETSY. Stop your nonsense! Vovo, which bag is it in? + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. That one, that one. He is getting near, very near! + +PETRISTCHEF. Is it spirits divine, or spirits of wine? + +BETSY. Now your cigarette comes in handy for once. Smoke closer, +closer to me. + + [PETRISTCHEF leans over her and smokes at her. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. He's getting near, I tell you. Eh, what? + +GROSSMAN (searches excitedly round the THIRD PEASANT). It is here; I +feel it is! + +FAT LADY. Do you feel an effluence? + + [GROSSMAN stoops and finds the spoon in the bag. + +ALL. Bravo! + + [General enthusiasm. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Ah! So that's where our spoon was. (To PEASANTS.) +Then that's the sort you are! + +THIRD PEASANT. What sort? I didn't take your spoon! What are you +making out? I didn't take it, and my soul knows nothing about it. I +didn't take it--there! Let him do what he likes. I knew he came here +for no good. "Where's your bag?" says he. I didn't take it, the Lord +is my witness! (Crosses himself.) I didn't take it! + + [The young people group round the PEASANT, laughing. + +LEONID FYODORITCH (angrily to his son). Always playing the fool! (To +the THIRD PEASANT.) Never mind, friend! We know you did not take it; +it was only an experiment. + +GROSSMAN (removes bandage from his eyes, and pretends to be coming +to). Can I have a little water? + + [All fuss round him. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Let's go straight from here into the coachman's +room. I've got a bitch there--epatante![7] + +BETSY. What a horrid word! Couldn't you say dog? + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. No. I can't say--Betsy is a man, epatante. I should +have to say young woman; it's a parallel case. Eh, what? Marya +Konstantinovna, isn't it true? Good, eh? + + [Laughs loudly. + +MARYA KONSTANTINOVNA. Well, let us go. + + [Exeunt MARYA KONSTANTINOVNA, BETSY, PETRISTCHEF, and VASILY + LEONIDITCH. + +FAT LADY (to GROSSMAN). Well? how are you? Have you rested? (GROSSMAN +does not answer. To SAHATOF.) And you, Mr. Sahatof, did you feel the +effluence? + +SAHATOF. I felt nothing. Yes, it was very fine--very fine. Quite a +success! + +BARONESS.--Admirable! Ca ne le fait pas souffrir? [8] + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Pas le moins du monde. + +PROFESSOR (to GROSSMAN). May I trouble you? (Hands him a thermometer.) +At the beginning of the experiment it was 37 decimal 2 degrees. [9] +(To DOCTOR.) That's right, I think? Would you mind feeling his pulse? +Some loss is inevitable. + +DOCTOR (to GROSSMAN). Now then, sir, let's have your hand; we'll see, +we'll see. + + [Takes out his watch and feels GROSSMAN'S pulse. + +FAT LADY (to GROSSMAN). One moment! The condition you were in could +not be called sleep? + +GROSSMAN (wearily). It was hypnosis. + +SAHATOF. In that case, are we to understand that you hypnotised +yourself? + +GROSSMAN. And why not? An hypnotic state may ensue not only in +consequence of association--the sound of the tom-tom, for instance, in +Charcot's method--but by merely entering an hypnogenetic zone. + +SAHATOF. Granting that, it would still be desirable to define what +hypnotism is, more exactly? + +PROFESSOR. Hypnotism is a phenomenon resulting from the transmutation +of one energy into another. + +GROSSMAN. Charcot does not so define it. + +SAHATOF. A moment, just a moment! That is your definition, but +Liebault told me himself.... + +DOCTOR (lets go of GROSSMAN'S pulse). Ah, that's all right; well, now, +the temperature? + +FAT LADY (interrupting). No, allow me! I agree with the Professor. And +here's the very best proof. After my illness, when I lay insensible, a +desire to speak came over me. In general I am of a silent disposition, +but then I was overcome by this desire to speak, and I spoke and +spoke, and I was told that I spoke in such a way that every one was +astonished! (To SAHATOF.) But I think I interrupted you? + +SAHATOF (with dignity). Not at all. Pray continue. + +DOCTOR. Pulse 82, and the temperature has risen three-tenths of a +degree. + +PROFESSOR. There you are! That's a proof! That's just as it should be. +(Takes out pocket-book and writes.) 82, yes? And 37 and 5. When the +hypnotic state is induced, it invariably produces a heightened action +of the heart. + +DOCTOR. I can, as a medical man, bear witness that your prognosis was +justified by the event. + +PROFESSOR (to SAHATOF). You were saying?... + +SAHATOF. I wished to say that Liebault told me himself that the +hypnotic is only one particular psychical state, increasing +susceptibility to suggestion. + +PROFESSOR. That is so, but still the law of equivalents is the chief +thing. + +GROSSMAN. Moreover, Liebault is far from being an authority, while +Charcot has studied the subject from all sides, and has proved that +hypnotism produced by a blow, a trauma.... + + [All talking together-- + + SAHATOF. Yes, but I don't reject Charcot's labor. I know him + also, I am only repeating what Liebault told me... + + GROSSMAN (excitedly). There are 3000 patients together in the + Salpetriere, and I have gone through the whole course. + + PROFESSOR. Excuse me, gentlemen, but that is not the point. + +FAT LADY (interrupting). One moment, I will explain it to you in two +words. When my husband was ill, all the doctors gave him up.... + +LEONID FYODORITCH. However, we had better go upstairs again. Baroness, +this way! + + [Exeunt GROSSMAN, SAHATOF, PROFESSOR, DOCTOR, the FAT LADY, and + BARONESS, talking loudly and interrupting each other. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA (catching hold of LEONID FYODORITCH'S arm). How often +have I asked you not to interfere in household matters! You think of +nothing but your nonsense, and the whole house is on my shoulders. You +will infect us all! + +LEONID FYODORITCH. What? How? I don't understand what you mean. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. How? Why, people ill of diphtheria sleep in the +kitchen, which is in constant communication with the whole house. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Yes, but I.... + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. What, I? + +LEONID FYODORITCH. I know nothing about it. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. It's your duty to know, if you are the head of the +family. Such things must not be done. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. But I never thought.... I thought.... + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. It is sickening to listen to you! + + [LEONID FYODORITCH remains silent. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA (to THEODORE IVANITCH). Turn them out at once! They are +to leave my kitchen immediately! It is terrible! No one listens to me; +they do it out of spite.... I turn them out from there, and they bring +them in here! And with my illness.... (Gets more and more excited, and +at last begins to cry.) Doctor! Doctor! Peter Petrovitch!... He's gone +too!... + + [Exit, sobbing, followed by LEONID FYODORITCH. + + [All stand silent for a long time. + +THIRD PEASANT. Botheration take them all! If one don't mind, the +police will be after one here. And I have never been to law in all my +born days. Let's go to some lodging-house, lads! + +THEODORE IVANITCH. (to TANYA). What are we to do? + +TANYA. Never mind, Theodore Ivanitch, let them sleep with the +coachman. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. How can we do that? The coachman was complaining as +it is, that his place is full of dogs. + +TANYA. Well, then, the porter's lodge. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. And supposing it's found out? + +TANYA. It won't be found out! Don't trouble about that, Theodore +Ivanitch. How can one turn them out now, at night? They'll not find +anywhere to go to. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Well, do as you please. Only they must go away from +here. + + [Exit. + + [PEASANTS take their bags. + +DISCHARGED COOK. Oh those damned fiends! It's all their fat! Fiends! + +SERVANTS' COOK. You be quiet there. Thank goodness they didn't see +you! + +TANYA. Well then, daddy, come along to the porter's lodge. + +FIRST PEASANT. Well, but how about our business? How, for example, +about the applience of his hand to the signature? May we be in hopes? + +TANYA. We'll see in an hour's time. + +SECOND PEASANT. You'll do the trick? + +TANYA (laughs). Yes, God willing! + +CURTAIN + + + + +ACT III + +Evening of the same day. The small drawing-room in LEONID FYODORITCH'S +house, where the seances are always held. LEONID FYODORITCH and the +PROFESSOR. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Well then, shall we risk a seance with our new +medium? + +PROFESSOR. Yes, certainly. He is a powerful medium, there is no doubt +about it. And it is especially desirable that the seance should take +place to-day with the same people. Grossman will certainly respond to +the influence of the mediumistic energy, and then the connection and +identity of the different phenomena will be still more evident. You +will see then that, if the medium is as strong as he was just now, +Grossman will vibrate. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Then I will send for Simon and ask those who wish +to attend to come in. + +PROFESSOR. Yes, all right! I will just jot down a few notes. + + [Takes out his note-book and writes. + + [Enter SAHATOF. + +SAHATOF. They have just settled down to whist in Anna Pavlovna's +drawing-room, and as I am not wanted there--and as I am interested in +your seance--I have put in an appearance here. But will there be a +seance? + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Yes, certainly! + +SAHATOF. In spite of the absence of Mr. Kaptchitch's mediumistic +powers? + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Vous avez la main heureuse. [10] Fancy, that very +peasant whom I mentioned to you this morning turns out to be an +undoubted medium. + +SAHATOF. Dear me! Yes, that is peculiarly interesting! + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Yes, we tried a few preliminary experiments with +him just after dinner. + +SAHATOF. So you've had time already to experiment, and to convince +yourself.... + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Yes, perfectly! And he turns out to be an +exceptionally powerful medium. + +SAHATOF (incredulously). Dear me! + +LEONID FYODORITCH. It turns out that it has long been noticed in the +servants' hall. When he sits down to table, the spoon springs into his +hand of its own accord! (To the PROFESSOR.) Had you heard about it? + +PROFESSOR. No, I had not heard that detail. + +SAHATOF (to the PROFESSOR). But still, you admit the possibility of +such phenomena? + +PROFESSOR. What phenomena? + +SAHATOF. Well, spiritualistic, mediumistic, and supernatural phenomena +in general. + +PROFESSOR. The question is, what do we consider supernatural? When, +not a living man but a piece of stone attracted a nail to itself, how +did the phenomena strike the first observers? As something natural? Or +supernatural? + +SAHATOF. Well, of course; but phenomena such as the magnet attracting +iron always repeat themselves. + +PROFESSOR. It is just the same in this case. The phenomenon repeats +itself and we experiment with it. And not only that, but we apply to +the phenomena we are investigating the laws common to other phenomena. +These phenomena seem supernatural only because their causes are +attributed to the medium himself. But that is where the mistake lies. +The phenomena are not caused by the medium, but by psychic energy +acting through a medium, and that is a very different thing. The whole +matter lies in the law of equivalents. + +SAHATOF. Yes, certainly, but.... + + [Enter TANYA, who hides behind the hangings. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Only remember that we cannot reckon on any results +with certainty, with this medium any more than with Home or +Kaptchitch. We may not succeed, but on the other hand we may even have +perfect materialisation. + +SAHATOF. Materialisation even? What do you mean by materialisation? + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Why, I mean that some one who is dead--say, your +father or your grandfather--may appear, take you by the hand, or give +you something; or else some one may suddenly rise into the air, as +happened to Alexey Vladimiritch last time. + +PROFESSOR. Of course, of course. But the chief thing is the +explanation of the phenomena, and the application to them of general +laws. + + [Enter the FAT LADY. + +FAT LADY. Anna Pavlovna has allowed me to join you. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Very pleased. + +FAT LADY. Oh, how tired Grossman seems! He could scarcely hold his +cup. Did you notice (to the PROFESSOR) how pale he turned at the +moment he approached the hiding-place? I noticed it at once, and was +the first to mention it to Anna Pavlovna. + +PROFESSOR. Undoubtedly,--loss of vital energy. + +FAT LADY. Yes, it's just as I say, one should not abuse that sort of +thing. You know, a hypnotist once suggested to a friend of mine, Vera +Konshin (oh, you know her, of course)--well, he suggested that she +should leave off smoking,--and her back began to ache! + +PROFESSOR (trying to have his say). The temperature and the pulse +clearly indicate.... + +FAT LADY. One moment! Allow me! Well, I said to her: it's better to +smoke than to suffer so with one's nerves. Of course, smoking is +injurious; I should like to give it up myself, but, do what I will, I +can't! Once I managed not to smoke for a fortnight, but could hold out +no longer. + +PROFESSOR (again trying to speak). Clearly proves.... + +FAT LADY. Yes, no! Allow me, just one word! You say, "loss of +strength." And I was also going to say that, when I travelled with +post-horses ... the roads used to be dreadful in those days--you +don't remember--but I have noticed that all our nervousness comes from +railways! I, for instance, can't sleep while travelling; I cannot fall +asleep to save my life! + +PROFESSOR (makes another attempt, which the FAT LADY baffles). The +loss of strength.... + +SAHATOF (smiling). Yes; oh yes! + + [LEONID FYODORITCH rings. + +FAT LADY. I am awake one night, and another, and a third, and still I +can't sleep! + + [Enter GREGORY. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Please tell Theodore to get everything ready for +the seance, and send Simon here--Simon, the butler's assistant,--do +you hear? + +GREGORY. Yes, sir. + + [Exit. + +PROFESSOR (to SAHATOF). The observation of the temperature and the +pulse have shown loss of vital energy. The same will happen in +consequence of the mediumistic phenomena. The law of the conservation +of energy.... + +FAT LADY. Oh yes, yes; I was just going to say that I am very glad +that a simple peasant turns out to be a medium. That's very good. I +always did say that the Slavophils.... + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Let's go into the drawing-room in the meantime. + +FAT LADY. Allow me, just one word! The Slavophils are right; but I +always told my husband that one ought never to exaggerate anything! +"The golden mean," you know. What is the use of maintaining that the +common people are all perfect, when I have myself seen.... + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Won't you come into the drawing-room? + +FAT LADY. A boy--that high--who drank! I gave him a scolding at once. +And he was grateful to me afterwards. They are children, and, as I +always say, children need both love and severity! + + [Exeunt all, all talking together. + + [TANYA enters from behind the hangings. + +TANYA. Oh, if it would only succeed! + + [Begins fastening some threads. + + [Enter BETSY hurriedly. + +BETSY. Isn't papa here? (Looks inquiringly at TANYA.) What are you +doing here? + +TANYA. Oh, Miss Elizabeth, I have only just come; I only wished ... +only came in.... + + [Embarrassed. + +BETSY. But they are going to have a seance here directly (Notices +TANYA drawing in the threads, looks at her, and suddenly bursts out +laughing.) Tanya! Why, it's you who do it all? Now don't deny it. And +last time it was you too? Yes, it was, it was! + +TANYA. Miss Elizabeth, dearest! + +BETSY (delighted). Oh, that is a joke! Well, I never. But why do you +do it? + +TANYA. Oh miss, dear miss, don't betray me! + +BETSY. Not for the world! I'm awfully glad. Only tell me how you +manage it? + +TANYA. Well, I just hide, and then, when it's all dark, I come out and +do it. That's how. + +BETSY (pointing to threads). And what is this for? You needn't tell +me. I see; you draw.... + +TANYA. Miss Elizabeth, darling! I will confess it, but only to you. I +used to do it just for fun, but now I mean business. + +BETSY. What? How? What business? + +TANYA. Well, you see, those peasants that came this morning, you saw +them. They want to buy some land, and your father won't sell it; well, +and Theodore Ivanitch, he says it's the spirits as forbid him. So I +have had a thought as.... + +BETSY. Oh, I see! Well, you are a clever girl! Do it, do it.... But +how will you manage it? + +TANYA. Well, I thought, when they put out the lights, I'll at once +begin knocking and shying things about, touching their heads with the +threads, and at last I'll take the paper about the land and throw it +on the table. I've got it here. + +BETSY. Well, and then? + +TANYA. Why, don't you see? They will be astonished. The peasants had +the paper, and now it's here. I will teach.... + +BETSY. Why, of course! Simon is the medium to-day! + +TANYA. Well, I'll teach him.... (Laughs so that she can't continue.) +I'll tell him to squeeze with his hands any one he can get hold of! Of +course, not your father--he'd never dare do that--but any one else; +he'll squeeze till it's signed. + +BETSY (laughing). But that's not the way it is done. Mediums never do +anything themselves. + +TANYA. Oh, never mind. It's all one; I daresay it'll turn out all +right. + + [Enter THEODORE IVANITCH. + + [Exit BETSY, making signs to TANYA. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Why are you here? + +TANYA. It's you I want, Theodore Ivanitch, dear.... + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Well, what is it? + +TANYA. About that affair of mine as I spoke of. + +THEODORE IVANITCH (laughs). I've made the match; yes, I've made the +match. The matter is settled; we have shaken hands on it, only not had +a drink on it. + +TANYA (with a shriek). Never! So it's all right? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Don't I tell you so? He says, "I shall consult the +missus, and then, God willing...." + +TANYA. Is that what he said? (Shrieks.) Dear Theodore Ivanitch, I'll +pray for you all the days of my life! + +THEODORE IVANITCH. All right! All right! Now is not the time. I've +been ordered to arrange the room for the seance. + +TANYA. Let me help you. How's it to be arranged? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. How? Why, the table in the middle of the room-- +chairs--the guitar--the accordion. The lamp is not wanted, only +candles. + +TANYA (helps THEODORE IVANITCH to place the things). Is that right? +The guitar here, and here the inkstand. (Places it.) So? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Can it be true that they'll make Simon sit here? + +TANYA. I suppose so; they've done it once. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Wonderful! (Puts on his pince-nez.) But is he +clean? + +TANYA. How should I know? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Then, I'll tell you what.... + +TANYA. Yes, Theodore Ivanitch? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Go and take a nail-brush and some Pears' soap; you +may take mine ... and go and cut his claws and scrub his hands as +clean as possible. + +TANYA. He can do it himself. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Well then, tell him to. And tell him to put on a +clean shirt as well. + +TANYA. All right, Theodore Ivanitch. + + [Exit. + +THEODORE IVANITCH (sits down in an easy-chair). They're educated and +learned--Alexey Vladimiritch now, he's a professor--and yet sometimes +one can't help doubting very much. The people's rude superstitions are +being abolished: hobgoblins, sorcerers, witches.... But if one +considers it, is not this equally superstitious? How is it possible +that the souls of the dead should come and talk, and play the guitar? +No! Some one is fooling them, or they are fooling themselves. And as +to this business with Simon--it's simply incomprehensible. (Looks at +an album.) Here's their spiritualistic album. How is it possible to +photograph a spirit? But here is the likeness of a Turk and Leonid +Fyodoritch sitting by.... Extraordinary human weakness! + + [Enter LEONID FYODORITCH. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Is it all ready? + +THEODORE IVANITCH (rising leisurely). Quite ready. (Smiles.) Only I +don't know about your new medium. I hope he won't disgrace you, Leonid +Fyodoritch. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. No, I and Alexey Vladimiritch have tested him. He +is a wonderfully powerful medium! + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Well, I don't know. But is he clean enough? I don't +suppose you have thought of ordering him to wash his hands? It might +be rather inconvenient. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. His hands? Oh yes! They're not clean, you think? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. What can you expect? He's a peasant, and there will +be ladies present, and Marya Vasilevna. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. It will be all right. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. And then I have something to report to you. +Timothy, the coachman, complains that he can't keep things clean +because of the dogs. + +LEONID FYODORITCH (arranging the things on the table absentmindedly). +What dogs? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. The three hounds that came for Vasily Leoniditch +to-day. + +LEONID FYODORITCH (vexed). Tell Anna Pavlovna! She can do as she likes +about it. I have no time. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. But you know her weakness.... + +LEONID FYODORITCH. 'Tis just as she likes, let her do as she pleases. +As for him,--one never gets anything but unpleasantness from him. +Besides, I am busy. + + [Enter SIMON, smiling; he has a sleeveless peasant's coat on. + +SIMON. I was ordered to come. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Yes, it's all right. Let me see your hands. That +will do, that will do very well! Well, then, my good fellow, you must +do just as you did before,--sit down, and give way to your mood. But +don't think at all. + +SIMON. Why should I think? The more one thinks, the worse it is. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Just so, just so, exactly! The less conscious one +is, the greater is the power. Don't think, but give in to your mood. +If you wish to sleep, sleep; if you wish to walk, walk. Do you +understand? + +SIMON. How could one help understanding? It's simple enough. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. But above all, don't be frightened. Because you +might be surprised yourself. You must understand that just as we live +here, so a whole world of invisible spirits live here also. + +THEODORE IVANITCH (improving on what LEONID FYODORITCH has said). +Invisible feelings, do you understand? + +SIMON (laughs). How can one help understanding! It's very plain as you +put it. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. You may rise up in the air, or something of the +kind, but don't be frightened. + +SIMON. Why should I be frightened? That won't matter at all. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Well then, I'll go and call them all.... Is +everything ready? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. I think so. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. But the slates? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. They are downstairs. I'll bring them. + + [Exit. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. All right then. So don't be afraid, but be at your +ease. + +SIMON. Had I not better take off my coat? One would be more easy like. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Your coat? Oh no. Don't take that off. + + [Exit. + +SIMON. She tells me to do the same again, and she will again shy +things about. How isn't she afraid? + + [Enter TANYA in her stockings and in a dress of the color of the + wall-paper. SIMON laughs. + +TANYA. Shsh!... They'll hear! There, stick these matches on your +fingers as before. (Sticks them on.) Well, do you remember everything? + +SIMON (bending his fingers in, one by one). First of all, wet the +matches and wave my hands about, that's one. Then make my teeth +chatter, like this ... that's two. But I've forgotten the third thing. + +TANYA. And it's the third as is the chief thing. Don't forget as soon +as the paper falls on the table--I shall ring the little bell--then +you do like this.... Spread your arms out far and catch hold of some +one, whoever it is as sits nearest, and catch hold of him. And then +squeeze! (Laughs.) Whether it's a gentleman or a lady, it's all one, +you just squeeze 'em, and don't let 'em go,--as if it were in your +sleep, and chatter with your teeth, or else howl like this. (Howls +sotto-voce.) And when I begin to play on the guitar, then stretch +yourself as if you were waking up, you know.... Will you remember +everything? + +SIMON. Yes, I'll remember, but it is too funny. + +TANYA. But mind you don't laugh. Still, it won't matter much if you do +laugh; they'd think it was in your sleep. Only take care you don't +really fall asleep when they put out the lights. + +SIMON. No fear, I'll pinch my ears. + +TANYA. Well, then, Sim, darling, only mind do as I tell you, and don't +get frightened. He'll sign the paper, see if he don't! They're coming! + + [Gets under the sofa. + + [Enter GROSSMAN and the PROFESSOR, LEONID FYODORITCH and the FAT + LADY, the DOCTOR, SAHATOF and ANNA PAVLOVNA. SIMON stands near + the door. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Please come in, all you doubters! Though we have a +new and accidentally discovered medium, I expect very important +phenomena to-night. + +SAHATOF. That's very, very interesting. + +FAT LADY (pointing to SIMON). Mais il est tres bien! [11] + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Yes, as a butler's assistant, but hardly.... + +SAHATOF. Wives never have any faith in their husbands' work. You don't +believe in anything of this kind? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Of course not. Kaptchitch, it is true, has something +exceptional about him, but Heaven knows what all this is about! + +FAT LADY. No, Anna Pavlovna, permit me, you can't decide it in such a +way. Before I was married, I once had a remarkable dream. Dreams, you +know, are often such that you don't know where they begin and where +they end; it was just such a dream that I.... + + [Enter VASILY LEONIDITCH and PETRISTCHEF. + +FAT LADY. And much was revealed to me by that dream. Nowadays the +young people (points to PETRISTCHEF and VASILY LEONIDITCH) deny +everything. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. But look here, you know--now I, for instance, never +deny anything! Eh, what? + + [BETSY and MARYA KONSTANTINOVNA enter, and begin talking to + PETRISTCHEF. + +FAT LADY. And how can one deny the supernatural? They say it is +unreasonable. But what if one's reason is stupid; what then? There +now, on Garden Street, you know ... why, well, it appeared every +evening! My husband's brother--what do you call him? Not beau-frere-- +what's the other name for it?--I never can remember the names of these +different relationships--well, he went there three nights running, and +still he saw nothing; so I said to him.... + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Well, who is going to stay here? + +FAT LADY. I! I! + +SAHATOF. I. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA (to DOCTOR). Do you mean to say you are going to stay? + +DOCTOR. Yes; I must see, if only once, what it is that Alexey +Vladimiritch has discovered in it. How can we deny anything without +proof? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Then I am to take it to-night for certain? + +DOCTOR. Take what?... Oh, the powder. Yes, it would perhaps be better. +Yes, yes, take it.... However, I shall come upstairs again. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Yes, please do. (Loud.) When it is over, mesdames et +messieurs, I shall expect you to come to me upstairs to rest from your +emotions, and then we will finish our rubber. + +FAT LADY. Oh, certainly. + +SAHATOF. Yes, thanks! + + [Exit ANNA PAVLOVNA. + +BETSY (to PETRISTCHEF). You must stay, I tell you. I promise you +something extraordinary. Will you bet? + +MARYA KONSTANTINOVNA. But you don't believe in it? + +BETSY. To-day I do. + +MARYA KONSTANTINOVNA (to PETRISTCHEF). And do you believe? + +PETRISTCHEF. "I can't believe, I cannot trust a heart for falsehood +framed." Still, if Elizabeth Leonidovna commands.... + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Let us stay, Marya Konstantinovna. Eh, what? I +shall invent something epatant. + +MARYA KONSTANTINOVNA. No, you mustn't make me laugh. You know I can't +restrain myself. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH (loud). I remain! + +LEONID FYODORITCH (severely). But I beg those who remain not to joke +about it. It is a serious matter. + +PETRISTCHEF. Do you hear? Well then, let's stay. Vovo, sit here, and +don't be too shy. + +BETSY. Yes, it's all very well for you to laugh; but just wait till +you see what will happen. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Oh, but supposing it's true? Won't it be a go! Eh, +what? + +PETRISTCHEF (trembles). Oh, I'm afraid, I'm afraid! Marya +Konstantinovna, I'm afraid! My tootsies tremble. + +BETSY (laughing). Not so loud. + + [All sit down. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Take your seats, take your seats. Simon, sit down! + +SIMON. Yes, sir. + + [Sits down on the edge of the chair. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Sit properly. + +PROFESSOR. Sit straight in the middle of the chair, and quite at your +ease. + + [Arranges SIMON on his chair. + + [BETSY, MARYA KONSTANTINOVNA and VASILY LEONIDITCH laugh. + +LEONID FYODORITCH (raising his voice). I beg those who are going to +remain here not to behave frivolously, but to regard this matter +seriously, or bad results might follow. Do you hear, Vovo! If you +can't be quiet, go away! + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Quiet, quiet! + + [Hides behind FAT LADY. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Alexey Vladimiritch, will you mesmerise him? + +PROFESSOR. No; why should I do it when Anton Borisitch is here? He has +had far more practice and has more power in that department than I ... +Anton Borisitch! + +GROSSMAN. Ladies and gentlemen, I am not, strictly speaking, a +spiritualist. I have only studied hypnotism. It is true I have studied +hypnotism in all its known manifestations; but what is called +spiritualism, is entirely unknown to me. When a subject is thrown into +a trance, I may expect the hypnotic phenomena known to me: lethargy, +abulia, anaesthesia, analgesia, catalepsy, and every kind of +susceptibility to suggestion. Here it is not these but other phenomena +we expect to observe. Therefore it would be well to know of what kind +are the phenomena we expect to witness, and what is their scientific +significance. + +SAHATOF. I thoroughly agree with Mr. Grossman. Such an explanation +would be very interesting. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. I think Alexey Vladimiritch will not refuse to give +us a short explanation. + +PROFESSOR. Why not? I can give an explanation if it is desired. (To +the DOCTOR.) Will you kindly note his temperature and pulse? My +explanation must, of necessity, be cursory and brief. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Yes, please; briefly, quite briefly. + +DOCTOR. All right. (Takes out thermometer.) Now then, my lad.... + + [Places the thermometer. + +SIMON. Yes, sir! + +PROFESSOR (rising and addressing the FAT LADY--then reseating +himself). Ladies and gentlemen! The phenomenon we are investigating +to-night is regarded, on the one hand, as something new; and, on the +other, as something transcending the limits of natural conditions. +Neither view is correct. This phenomenon is not new but is as old as +the world; and it is not supernatural but is subject to the eternal +laws that govern all that exists. This phenomenon has been usually +defined as "intercourse with the spirit world." That definition is +inexact. Under such a definition the spirit world is contrasted with +the material world. But this is erroneous; there is no such contrast! +Both worlds are so closely connected that it is impossible to draw a +line of demarcation, separating the one from the other. We say matter +is composed of molecules.... + +PETRISTCHEF. Prosy matter! + + [Whispering and laughter. + +PROFESSOR (pauses, then continues). Molecules are composed of atoms, +but the atoms, having no extension, are in reality nothing but the +points of application of forces. Strictly speaking, not of forces but +of energy, that same energy which is as much a unity and just as +indestructible as matter. But matter, though one, has many different +aspects, and the same is true of energy. Till recently only four forms +of energy, convertible into one another, have been known to us: +energies known as the dynamic, the thermal, the electric, and the +chemic. But these four aspects of energy are far from exhausting all +the varieties of its manifestation. The forms in which energy may +manifest itself are very diverse, and it is one of these new and as +yet but little known phases of energy, that we are investigating +to-night. I refer to mediumistic energy. + + [Renewed whispering and laughter among the young people. + +PROFESSOR (stops and casts a severe look round). Mediumistic energy +has been known to mankind for ages: prophecy, presentiments, visions +and so on, are nothing but manifestations of mediumistic energy. The +manifestations produced by it have, I say, been known to mankind for +ages. But the energy itself has not been recognised as such till quite +recently--not till that medium, the vibrations of which cause the +manifestations of mediumistic energy, was recognised. In the same way +that the phenomena of light were inexplicable until the existence of +an imponderable substance--an ether--was recognised, so mediumistic +phenomena seemed mysterious until the now fully established fact was +recognised, that between the particles of ether there exists another +still more rarefied imponderable substance not subject to the law of +the three dimensions.... + + [Renewed laughter, whispers, and giggling. + +PROFESSOR (again looks round severely). And just as mathematical +calculations have irrefutably proved the existence of imponderable +ether which gives rise to the phenomena of light and electricity, so +the successive investigations of the ingenious Hermann, of Schmidt, +and of Joseph Schmatzhofen, have confirmed beyond a doubt the +existence of a substance which fills the universe and may be called +spiritual ether. + +FAT LADY. Ah, now I understand. I am so grateful.... + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Yes, but Alexey Vladimiritch, could you not ... +condense it a little? + +PROFESSOR (not heeding the remark). And so, as I have just had the +honor of mentioning to you, a succession of strictly scientific +experiments have made plain to us the laws of mediumistic phenomena. +These experiments have proved that, when certain individuals are +plunged into a hypnotic state (a state differing from ordinary sleep +only by the fact that man's physiological activity is not lowered by +the hypnotic influence but, on the contrary, is always heightened--as +we have recently witnessed), when, I say, any individual is plunged +into such a state, this always produces certain perturbations in the +spiritual ether--perturbations quite similar to those produced by +plunging a solid body into liquid matter. These perturbations are what +we call mediumistic phenomena.... + + [Laughter and whispers. + +SAHATOF. That is quite comprehensible and correct; but if, as you are +kind enough to inform us, the plunging of the medium into a trance +produces perturbations of the spiritual ether, allow me to ask why (as +is usually supposed to be the case in spiritualistic seances) these +perturbations result in an activity on the part of the souls of dead +people? + +PROFESSOR. It is because the molecules of this spiritual ether are +nothing but the souls of the living, the dead, and the unborn, and any +vibration of the spiritual ether must inevitably cause a certain +vibration of its atoms. These atoms are nothing but human souls, which +enter into communication with one another by means of these movements. + +FAT LADY (to SAHATOF). What is it that puzzles you? It is so +simple.... Thank you so, so much! + +LEONID FYODORITCH. I think everything has now been explained, and that +we may commence. + +DOCTOR. The fellow is in a perfectly normal condition: temperature 37 +decimal 2, pulse 74. + +PROFESSOR (takes out his pocket-book and notes this down). What I have +just had the honor of explaining will be confirmed by the fact, which +we shall presently have an opportunity of observing, that after the +medium has been thrown into a trance his temperature and pulse will +inevitably rise, just as occurs in cases of hypnotism. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Yes, yes. But excuse me a moment. I should like to +reply to Sergey Ivanitch's question: How do we know we are in +communication with the souls of the dead? We know it because the +spirit that appears, plainly tells us--as simply as I am speaking to +you--who he is, and why he has come, and whether all is well with him! +At our last seance a Spaniard, Don Castillos, came to us, and he told +us everything. He told us who he was, and when he died, and that he +was suffering for having taken part in the Inquisition. He even told +us what was happening to him at the very time that he was speaking to +us, namely, that at the very time he was talking to us he had to be +born again on earth, and, therefore, could not continue his +conversation with us.... But you'll see for yourselves.... + +FAT LADY (interrupting). Oh, how interesting! Perhaps the Spaniard was +born in one of our houses and is a baby now! + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Quite possibly. + +PROFESSOR. I think it is time we began. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. I was only going to say.... + +PROFESSOR. It is getting late. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Very well. Then we will commence. Anton Borisitch, +be so good as to hypnotize the medium. + +GROSSMAN. What method would you like me to use? There are several +methods. There is Braid's system, there is the Egyptian symbol, and +there is Charcot's system. + +LEONID FYODORITCH (to the PROFESSOR). I think it is quite immaterial. + +PROFESSOR. Quite. + +GROSSMAN. Then I will make use of my own method, which I showed in +Odessa. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. If you please! + + [GROSSMAN waves his arms above SIMON. SIMON closes his eyes and + stretches himself. + +GROSSMAN (looking closely at him). He is falling asleep! He is asleep! +A remarkably rapid occurrence of hypnosis. The subject has evidently +already reached a state of anaesthesia. He is remarkable,--an +unusually impressionable subject, and might be subjected to +interesting experiments!... (Sits down, rises, sits down again.) Now +one might run a needle into his arm. If you like.... + +PROFESSOR (to LEONID FYODORITCH). Do you notice how the medium's +trance acts on Grossman? He is beginning to vibrate. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Yes, yes ... can the lights be extinguished now? + +SAHATOF. But why is darkness necessary? + +PROFESSOR. Darkness? Because it is a condition of the manifestation of +mediumistic energy, just as a given temperature is a condition +necessary for certain manifestations of chemical or dynamic energy. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. But not always. Manifestations have been observed +by me, and by many others, both by candlelight and daylight. + +PROFESSOR (interrupting). May the lights be put out? + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Yes, certainly. (Puts out candles.) Ladies and +gentlemen! attention, if you please. + + [TANYA gets from under the sofa and takes hold of a thread tied + to a chandelier. + +PETRISTCHEF. I like that Spaniard! Just in the midst of a +conversation--off he goes head downwards ... as the French say: piquer +une tete. [12] + +BETSY. You just wait a bit, and see what will happen! + +PETRISTCHEF. I have only one fear, and that is that Vovo may be moved +by the spirit to grunt like a pig! + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Would you like me to? I will.... + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Gentlemen! Silence, if you please! + + [Silence. SIMON licks the matches on his fingers and rubs his + knuckles with them. Leonid Fyodoritch. A light! Do you see the + light? + +SAHATOF. A light? Yes, yes, I see; but allow me.... + +FAT LADY. Where? Where? Oh, dear, I did not see it! Ah, there it is. +Oh!... + +PROFESSOR (whispers to LEONID FYODORITCH, and points to GROSSMAN, who +is moving). Do you notice how he vibrates? It is the dual influence. + + [The light appears again. + +LEONID FYODORITCH (to the PROFESSOR). It must be he--you know! + +SAHATOF. Who? + +LEONID FYODORITCH. A Greek, Nicholas. It is his light. Don't you think +so, Alexey Vladimiritch? + +SAHATOF. Who is this Greek, Nicholas? + +PROFESSOR. A certain Greek, who was a monk at Constantinople under +Constantine and who has been visiting us lately. + +FAT LADY. Where is he? Where is he? I don't see him. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. He is not yet visible ... Alexey Vladimiritch, he +is particularly well disposed towards you. You question him. + +PROFESSOR (in a peculiar voice). Nicholas! Is that you? + + [TANYA raps twice on the wall. + +LEONID FYODORITCH (joyfully). It is he! It is he! + +FAT LADY. Oh, dear! Oh! I shall go away! + +SAHATOF. Why do you suppose it is he? + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Why, the two knocks. It is an affirmative answer; +else all would have been silence. + + [Silence. Suppressed giggling in the young people's corner. + TANYA throws a lampshade, pencil and penwiper upon the table. + +LEONID FYODORITCH (whispers). Do you notice, gentlemen, here is a +lamp-shade, and something else--a pencil!... Alexey Vladimiritch, it +is a pencil! + +PROFESSOR. All right, all right! I am watching both him and Grossman! + + [GROSSMAN rises and feels the things that have fallen on the table. + +SAHATOF. Excuse me, excuse me! I should like to see whether it is not +the medium who is doing it all himself? + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Do you think so? Well, sit by him and hold his +hands. But you may be sure he is asleep. + +SAHATOF (approaches, TANYA lets a thread touch his head. He is +frightened, and stoops). Ye ... ye ... yes! Strange, very strange! + + [Takes hold of SIMON'S elbow. SIMON howls. + +PROFESSOR (to LEONID FYODORITCH). Do you notice the effect of +Grossman's presence? It is a new phenomenon--I must note it.... + + [Runs out to note it down, and returns again. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Yes.... But we cannot leave Nicholas without an +answer. We must begin.... + +GROSSMAN (rises, approaches Simon and raises and lowers his arm). It +would be interesting to produce contraction! The subject is in +profound hypnosis. + +PROFESSOR (to LEONID FYODORITCH). Do you see? Do you see? + +GROSSMAN. If you like.... + +DOCTOR. Now then, my dear sir, leave the management to Alexey +Vladimiritch; the affair is turning out serious. + +PROFESSOR. Leave him alone, he (referring to GROSSMAN) is talking in +his sleep! + +FAT LADY. How glad I now am that I resolved to be present! It is +frightening, but all the same I am glad, for I always said to my +husband.... + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Silence, if you please. + + [TANYA draws a thread over the FAT LADY'S head. + +FAT LADY. Aie! + +LEONID FYODORITCH. What? What is it? + +FAT LADY. He took hold of my hair! + +LEONID FYODORITCH (whispers). Never mind, don't be afraid, give him +your hand. His hand will be cold, but I like it. + +FAT LADY (hides her hands). Not for the world! + +SAHATOF. Yes, it is strange, very strange! + +LEONID FYODORITCH. He is here and is seeking for intercourse. Who +wishes to put a question to him? + +SAHATOF. I should like to put a question, if I may. + +PROFESSOR. Please do. + +SAHATOF. Do I believe or not? + + [TANYA knocks twice. + +PROFESSOR. The answer is affirmative. + +SAHATOF. Allow me to ask again. Have I a ten rouble note in my pocket? + + [TANYA knocks several times and passes a thread over SAHATOF'S head. + +SAHATOF. Ah! + + [Seizes the thread and breaks it. + +PROFESSOR. I should ask those present not to ask indefinite or trivial +questions. It is unpleasant to him! + +SAHATOF. No, but allow me! Here I have a thread in my hand! + +LEONID FYODORITCH. A thread? Hold it fast; that happens often, and not +only threads but sometimes even silk cords--very ancient ones! + +SAHATOF. No--but where did this thread come from? + + [TANYA throws a cushion at him. + +SAHATOF. Wait a bit; wait! Something soft has hit me on the head. +Light a candle--there is something.... + +PROFESSOR. We beg of you not to interrupt the manifestations. + +FAT LADY. For goodness' sake, don't interrupt! I should also like to +ask something. May I? + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Yes, if you like. + +FAT LADY. I should like to ask about my digestion. May I? I want to +know what to take: aconite or belladonna? + + [Silence, whispers among the young people; suddenly VASILY + LEONIDITCH begins to cry like a baby: "ou-a, ou-a!" (Laughter.) + Holding their mouths and noses, the girls and PETRISTCHEF run + away bursting with laughter. + +FAT LADY. Ah, that must be the monk who's been born again! + +LEONID FYODORITCH (beside himself with anger, whispers). One gets +nothing but tomfoolery from you! If you don't know how to behave +decently, go away! + + [Exit VASILY LEONIDITCH. Darkness and silence. + +FAT LADY. Oh, what a pity! Now one can't ask any more! He is born! + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Not at all. It is only Vovo's nonsense. But he is +here. Ask him. + +PROFESSOR. That often happens. These jokes and ridicule are quite +usual occurrences. I expect he is still here. But we may ask. Leonid +Fyodoritch, will you? + +LEONID FYODORITCH. No, you, if you please. This has upset me. So +unpleasant! Such want of tact!... + +PROFESSOR. Very well.... Nicholas, are you here? + + [TANYA raps twice and rings. SIMON roars, spreads his arms out, + seizes SAHATOF and the PROFESSOR--squeezing them. + +PROFESSOR. What an unexpected phenomenon! The medium himself reacted +upon! This never happened before! Leonid Fyodoritch, will you watch? +It is difficult for me to do so. He squeezes me so! Mind you observe +GROSSMAN! This needs the very greatest attention! + + [TANYA throws the PEASANTS' paper on the table. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Something has fallen upon the table. + +PROFESSOR. See what it is! + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Paper! A folded paper! + + [TANYA throws a travelling inkstand on the table. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. An inkstand! + + [TANYA throws a pen. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. A pen! + + [SIMON roars and squeezes. + +PROFESSOR (crushed). Wait a bit, wait: a totally new manifestation! +The action proceeding not from the mediumistic energy produced, but +from the medium himself! However, open the inkstand, and put the pen +on the table, and he will write! + + [TANYA goes behind LEONID FYODORITCH and strikes him on the head + with the guitar. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. He has struck me on the head! (Examining table.) +The pen is not writing yet and the paper remains folded. + +PROFESSOR. See what the paper is, and quickly; evidently the dual +influence--his and Grossman's--has produced a perturbation! + +LEONID FYODORITCH (goes out and returns at once). Extraordinary! This +paper is an agreement with some peasants that I refused to sign this +morning and returned to the peasants. Probably he wants me to sign it? + +PROFESSOR. Of course! Of course! But ask him. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Nicholas, do you wish.... + + [TANYA knocks twice. + +PROFESSOR. Do you hear? It is quite evident! + + [LEONID FYODORITCH takes the paper and pen and goes out. TANYA + knocks, plays on the guitar and the accordion, and then creeps + under the sofa. LEONID FYODORITCH returns. SIMON stretches + himself and coughs. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. He is waking up. We can light the candles. + +PROFESSOR (hurriedly). Doctor, Doctor, please, his pulse and +temperature! You will see that a rise of both will be apparent. + +LEONID FYODORITCH (lights the candles). Well, what do you gentlemen +who were sceptical think of it now? + +DOCTOR (goes up to SIMON and places thermometer). Now then my lad. +Well, have you had a nap? There, put that in there, and give me your +hand. + + [Looks at his watch. + +SAHATOF (shrugging his shoulders). I must admit that all that has +occurred cannot have been done by the medium. But the thread?... I +should like the thread explained. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. A thread! A thread! We have been witnessing +manifestations more important than a thread. + +SAHATOF. I don't know. At all events, je reserve mon opinion. + +FAT LADY (to SAHATOF). Oh, no, how can you say: "je reserve mon +opinion"? And the infant with the little wings? Didn't you see? At +first I thought it was only an illusion, but afterwards it became +clearer and clearer, like a live.... + +SAHATOF. I can only speak of what I have seen. I did not see that-- +nothing of the kind. + +FAT LADY. You don't mean to say so? Why, it was quite plainly visible! +And to the left there was a monk clothed in black bending over it.... + +SAHATOF (moves away. Aside). What exaggeration! + +FAT LADY (addressing the DOCTOR). You must have seen it! It rose up +from your side. + + [DOCTOR goes on counting the pulse without heeding her. + +FAT LADY (to GROSSMAN). And that light, the light around it, +especially around its little face! And the expression so mild and +tender, something so heavenly! + + [Smiles tenderly herself. + +GROSSMAN. I saw phosphorescent light, and objects changed their +places, but I saw nothing more than that. + +FAT LADY. Don't tell me! You don't mean it! It is simply that you +scientists of Charcot's school do not believe in a life beyond the +grave! As for me, no one could now make me disbelieve in a future +life--no one in the world! + + [GROSSMAN moves away from her. + +FAT LADY. No, no, whatever you may say, this is one of the happiest +moments of my life! When I heard Sarasate play, and now.... Yes! (No +one listens to her. She goes up to SIMON.) Now tell me, my friend, +what did you feel? Was it very trying? + +SIMON (laughs). Yes, ma'm, just so. + +FAT LADY. Still not unendurable? + +SIMON. Just so, ma'm. (To LEONID FYODORITCH.) Am I to go? + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Yes, you may go. + +DOCTOR (to the PROFESSOR). The pulse is the same, but the temperature +is lower. + +PROFESSOR. Lower! (Considers awhile, then suddenly divines the +conclusion.) It had to be so--it had to descend! The dual influence +crossing had to produce some kind of reflex action. Yes, that's it! + + [Exeunt, all talking at once-- + + LEONID FYODORITCH. I'm only sorry we had no complete + materialisation. But still.... Come, gentlemen, let us go to the + drawing-room? + + FAT LADY. What specially struck me was when he flapped his wings, + and one saw how he rose! + + GROSSMAN (to SAHATOF). If we had kept to hypnotism, we might have + produced a thorough state of epilepsy. The success might have + been complete! + + SAHATOF. It is very interesting, but not entirely convincing. That + is all I can say. + + [Enter THEODORE IVANITCH. + +LEONID FYODORITCH (with paper in his hand). Ah, Theodore, what a +remarkable seance we have had! It turns out that the peasants must +have the land on their own terms. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Dear me! + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Yes, indeed. (Showing paper.) Fancy, this paper +that I returned to them, suddenly appeared on the table! I have signed +it. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. How did it get there? + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Well, it did get there! + + [Exit. THEODORE IVANITCH follows him out. + +TANYA (gets from under the sofa and laughs). Oh, dear, oh dear! Well, +I did get a fright when he got hold of the thread! (Shrieks.) Well, +anyhow, it's all right--he has signed it! + + [Enter GREGORY. + +GREGORY. So it was you that was fooling them? + +TANYA. What business is it of yours? + +GREGORY. And do you think the missis will be pleased with you for it? +No, you bet; you're caught now! I'll tell them what tricks you're up +to, if you don't let me have my way! + +TANYA. And you'll not get your way, and you'll not do me any harm! + +CURTAIN + + + + +ACT IV + +The same scene as in Act I. The next day. Two liveried footmen, +THEODORE IVANITCH and GREGORY. + +FIRST FOOTMAN (with grey whiskers). Yours is the third house to-day. +Thank goodness that all the at-homes are in this direction. Yours used +to be on Thursdays. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Yes, we changed to Saturday so as to be on the same +day as the Golovkins and Grade von Grabes.... + +SECOND FOOTMAN. The Stcherbakofs do the thing well. There's +refreshments for the footmen every time they've a ball. + + [The two PRINCESSES, mother and daughter, come down the stairs + accompanied by BETSY. The old PRINCESS looks in her note-book + and at her watch, and sits down on the settle. GREGORY puts on + her overshoes. + +YOUNG PRINCESS. Now, do come. Because, if you refuse, and Dodo +refuses, the whole thing will be spoilt. + +BETSY. I don't know. I must certainly go to the Shoubins. And then +there is the rehearsal. + +YOUNG PRINCESS. You'll have plenty of time. Do, please. Ne nous fais +pas faux bond.[13] Fedya and Koko will come. + +BETSY. J'en ai par-dessus la tete de votre Koko.[14] + +YOUNG PRINCESS. I thought I should see him here. Ordinairement il est +d'une exactitude....[15] + +BETSY. He is sure to come. + +YOUNG PRINCESS. When I see you together, it always seems to me that he +has either just proposed or is just going to propose. + +BETSY. Yes, I don't suppose it can be avoided. I shall have to go +through with it. And it is so unpleasant! + +YOUNG PRINCESS. Poor Koko! He is head over ears in love. + +BETSY. Cessez, les gens![16] + + [YOUNG PRINCESS sits down, talking in whispers. GREGORY puts on + her overshoes. + +YOUNG PRINCESS. Well then, good-bye till this evening. + +BETSY. I'll try to come. + +OLD PRINCESS. Then tell your papa that I don't believe in anything of +the kind, but will come to see his new medium. Only he must let me +know when. Good afternoon, ma toute belle. + + [Kisses BETSY, and exit, followed by her daughter. BETSY goes + upstairs. + +GREGORY. I don't like putting on an old woman's overshoes for her; she +can't stoop, can't see her shoe for her stomach, and keeps poking her +foot in the wrong place. It's different with a young one; it's +pleasant to take her foot in one's hand. + +SECOND FOOTMAN. Hear him! Making distinctions! + +FIRST FOOTMAN. It's not for us footmen to make such distinctions. + +GREGORY. Why shouldn't one make distinctions; are we not men? It's +they think we don't understand! Just now they were deep in their talk, +then they look at me, and at once it's "lay zhon!" + +SECOND FOOTMAN. And what's that? + +GREGORY. Oh, that means, "Don't talk, they understand!" It's the same +at table. But I understand! You say, there's a difference? I say there +is none. + +FIRST FOOTMAN. There is a great difference for those who understand. + +GREGORY. There is none at all. To-day I am a footman, and to-morrow I +may be living no worse than they are. Has it never happened that +they've married footmen? I'll go and have a smoke. + + [Exit. + +SECOND FOOTMAN. That's a bold young man you've got. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. A worthless fellow, not fit for service. He used to +be an office boy and has got spoilt. I advised them not to take him, +but the mistress liked him. He looks well on the carriage when they +drive out. + +FIRST FOOTMAN. I should like to send him to our Count; he'd put him in +his place! Oh, he don't like those scatterbrains. "If you're a +footman, be a footman and fulfil your calling." Such pride is not +befitting. + + [PETRISTCHEF comes running downstairs, and takes out a cigarette. + +PETRISTCHEF (deep in thought). Let's see, my second is the same as my +first. Echo, a-co, co-coa. (Enter KOKO KLINGEN, wearing his +pince-nez.) Ko-ko, co-coa. Cocoa tin, where do you spring from? + +KOKO KLINGEN. From the Stcherbakofs. You are always playing the +fool.... + +PETRISTCHEF. No, listen to my charade. My first is the same as my +second, my third may be cracked, my whole is like your pate. + +KOKO KLINGEN. I give it up. I've no time. + +PETRISTCHEF. Where else are you going? + +KOKO KLINGEN. Where? Of course to the Ivins, to practice for the +concert. Then to the Shoubins, and then to the rehearsal. You'll be +there too, won't you? + +PETRISTCHEF. Most certainly. At the re-her-Sall and also at the +re-her-Sarah. Why, at first I was a savage, and now I am both a savage +and a general. + +KOKO KLINGEN. How did yesterday's seance go off? + +PETRISTCHEF. Screamingly funny! There was a peasant, and above all, it +was all in the dark. Vovo cried like an infant, the Professor defined, +and Marya Vasilevna refined. Such a lark! You ought to have been +there. + +KOKO KLINGEN. I'm afraid, mon cher. You have a way of getting off with +a jest, but I always feel that if I say a word they'll construe it +into a proposal. Et ca ne m'arrange pas du tout, du tout. Mais du +tout, du tout! [17] + +PETRISTCHEF. Instead of a proposal, make a proposition, and receive a +sentence! Well, I shall go in to Vovo's. If you'll call for me, we can +go to the re-her-Sarah together. + +KOKO KLINGEN. I can't think how you can be friends with such a fool. +He is so stupid--a regular blockhead! + +PETRISTCHEF. And I am fond of him. I love Vovo, but ... "with a love +so strange, ne'er towards him the path untrod shall be".... + + [Exit into Vovo's room. + + [BETSY comes down with a LADY. KOKO bows significantly to BETSY. + +BETSY (shaking KOKO'S hand without turning towards him. To LADY). You +are acquainted? + +LADY. No. + +BETSY. Baron Klingen.... Why were you not here last night? + +KOKO KLINGEN. I could not come, I was engaged. + +BETSY. What a pity, it was so interesting! (Laughs.) You should have +seen what manifestations we had! Well, how is our charade getting on? + +KOKO KLINGEN. Oh, the verses for mon second are ready. Nick composed +the verses, and I the music. + +BETSY. What are they? What are they? Do tell me! + +KOKO KLINGEN. Wait a minute; how does it go?... Oh, the knight sings: + + "Oh, naught so beautiful as nature: + The Nautilus sails by. + Oh, naughty lass, oh, naughty lass! + Oh, nought, oh, nought! Oh, fie!" + +LADY. I see, my second is "nought," and what is my first? + +KOKO KLINGEN. My first is Aero, the name of a girl savage. + +BETSY. Aero, you see, is a savage who wished to devour the object of +her love. (Laughs.) She goes about lamenting, and sings-- + + "My appetite," + +KOKO KLINGEN (interrupts)-- + + "How can I fight,".... + +BETSY (chimes in)-- + + "Some one to chew I long. + I seeking go ...." + +KOKO KLINGEN-- + + "But even so...." + +BETSY-- + + "No one to chew can find." + +KOKO KLINGEN-- + + "A raft sails by," + +BETSY-- + + "It cometh nigh; + Two generals upon it...." + +KOKO KLINGEN-- + + "Two generals are we: + By fate's hard decree, + To this island we flee." + +And then, the refrain-- + + "By fate's hard decree, + To this island we flee." + +LADY. Charmant! + +BETSY. But just think how silly! + +KOKO KLINGEN. Yes, that's the charm of it! + +LADY. And who is to be Aero? + +BETSY. I am. And I have had a costume made, but mamma says it's "not +decent." And it is not a bit less decent than a ball dress. (To +THEODORE IVANITCH.) Is Bourdier's man here? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Yes, he is waiting in the kitchen. + +LADY. Well, and how will you represent Aeronaut? + +BETSY. Oh, you'll see. I don't want to spoil the pleasure for you. Au +revoir. + +LADY. Good-bye! + + [They bow. Exit LADY. + +BETSY (to KOKO KLINGEN). Come up to mamma. + + [BETSY and KOKO go upstairs. JACOB enters from servants' + quarters, carrying a tray with teacups, cakes, etc., and goes + panting across the stage. + +JACOB (to the FOOTMEN). How d'you do? How d'you do? + + [FOOTMEN bow. + +JACOB (to THEODORE IVANITCH). Couldn't you tell Gregory to help a bit! +I'm ready to drop.... + + [Exit up the stairs. + +FIRST FOOTMAN. That is a hard-working chap you've got there. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Yes, a good fellow. But there now--he doesn't +satisfy the mistress, she says his appearance is ungainly. And now +they've gone and told tales about him for letting some peasants into +the kitchen yesterday. It is a bad look-out: they may dismiss him. And +he is a good fellow. + +SECOND FOOTMAN. What peasants were they? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Peasants that had come from our Koursk village to +buy some land. It was night, and they were our fellow-countrymen, one +of them the father of the butler's assistant. Well, so they were asked +into the kitchen. It so happened that there was thought-reading going +on. Something was hidden in the kitchen, and all the gentlefolk came +down, and the mistress saw the peasants. There was such a row! "How is +this," she says; "these people may be infected, and they are let into +the kitchen!".... She is terribly afraid of this infection. + + [Enter GREGORY. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Gregory, you go and help Jacob. I'll stay here. He +can't manage alone. + +GREGORY. He's awkward, that's why he can't manage. + + [Exit. + +FIRST FOOTMAN. And what is this new mania they have got? This +infection!... So yours also is afraid of it? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. She fears it worse than fire! Our chief business, +nowadays, is fumigating, washing, and sprinkling. + +FIRST FOOTMAN. I see. That's why there is such a stuffy smell here. +(With animation.) I don't know what we're coming to with these +infection notions. It's just detestable! They seem to have forgotten +the Lord. There's our master's sister, Princess Mosolova, her daughter +was dying, and, will you believe it, neither father nor mother would +come near her! So she died without their having taken leave of her. +And the daughter cried, and called them to say good-bye--but they +didn't go! The doctor had discovered some infection or other! And yet +their own maid and a trained nurse were with her, and nothing happened +to them; they're still alive! + + [Enter VASILY LEONIDITCH and PETRISTCHEF from VASILY LEONIDITCH'S + room, smoking cigarettes. + +PETRISTCHEF. Come along then, only I must take Koko--Cocoanut, with +me. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. Your Koko is a regular dolt; I can't bear him. A +hare-brained fellow, a regular gad-about! Without any kind of +occupation, eternally loafing around! Eh, what? + +PETRISTCHEF. Well, anyhow, wait a bit, I must say goodbye. + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. All right. And I will go and look at my dogs in the +coachman's room. I've got a dog there that's so savage, the coachman +said, he nearly ate him. + +PETRISTCHEF. Who ate whom? Did the coachman really eat the dog? + +VASILY LEONIDITCH. You are always at it! + + [Puts on outdoor things and goes out. + +PETRISTCHEF (thoughtfully). Ma - kin - tosh, Co - co - tin.... Let's +see. + + [Goes upstairs. + + [JACOB runs across the stage. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. What's the matter? + +JACOB. There is no more thin bread and butter. I said.... + + [Exit. + +SECOND FOOTMAN. And then our master's little son fell ill, and they +sent him at once to an hotel with his nurse, and there he died without +his mother. + +FIRST FOOTMAN. They don't seem to fear sin! I think you cannot escape +from God anywhere. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. That's what I think. + + [JACOB runs upstairs with bread and butter. + +FIRST FOOTMAN. One should consider too, that if we are to be afraid of +everybody like that, we'd better shut ourselves up within four walls, +as in a prison, and stick there! + + [Enter TANYA; she bows to the FOOTMEN. + +TANYA. Good afternoon. + + [FOOTMEN bow. + +TANYA. Theodore Ivanitch, I have a word to say to you. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Well, what? + +TANYA. The peasants have come again, Theodore Ivanitch.... + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Well? I gave the paper to Simon. + +TANYA. I have given them the paper. They were that grateful! I can't +say how! Now they only ask you to take the money. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. But where are they? + +TANYA. Here, by the porch. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. All right, I'll tell the master. + +TANYA. I have another request to you, dear Theodore Ivanitch. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. What now? + +TANYA. Why, don't you see, Theodore Ivanitch, I can't remain here any +longer. Ask them to let me go. + + [Enter JACOB, running. + +THEODORE IVANITCH (to JACOB). What d'you want? + +JACOB. Another samovar, and oranges. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Ask the housekeeper. + + [Exit JACOB. + +THEODORE IVANITCH (to TANYA). How is that? + +TANYA. Why, don't you see, my position is such.... + +JACOB (runs in). There are not enough oranges. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Serve up as many as you've got. (Exit JACOB.) Now's +not the time! Just see what a bustle we are in. + +TANYA. But you know yourself, Theodore Ivanitch, there is no end to +this bustle; one might wait for ever--you know yourself--and my affair +is for life.... Dear Theodore Ivanitch, you have done me a good turn, +be a father to me now, choose the right moment and tell her, or else +she'll get angry and won't let me have my passport.[18] + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Where's the hurry? + +TANYA. Why, Theodore Ivanitch, it's all settled now.... And I could go +to my godmother's and get ready, and then after Easter we'd get +married.[19] Do tell her, dear Theodore Ivanitch! + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Go away--this is not the place. + + [An elderly GENTLEMAN comes downstairs, puts on overcoat, and + goes out, followed by the SECOND FOOTMAN. + + [Exit TANYA. Enter JACOB. + +JACOB. Just fancy, Theodore Ivanitch, it's too bad! She wants to +discharge me now! She says, "You break everything, and forget Frisk, +and you let the peasants into the kitchen against my orders!" And you +know very well that I knew nothing about it. Tatyana told me, "Take +them into the kitchen"; how could I tell whose order it was? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Did the mistress speak to you? + +JACOB. She's just spoken. Do speak up for me, Theodore Ivanitch! You +see, my people in the country are only just getting on their feet, and +suppose I lose my place, when shall I get another? Theodore Ivanitch, +do, please! + + [ANNA PAVLOVNA comes down with the old COUNTESS, whom she is + seeing off. The COUNTESS has false teeth and hair. The FIRST + FOOTMAN helps the COUNTESS into her outdoor things. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Oh, most certainly, of course! I am so deeply touched. + +COUNTESS. If it were not for my illness, I should come oftener to see +you. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. You should really consult Peter Petrovitch. He is +rough, but nobody can soothe one as he does. He is so clear, so +simple. + +COUNTESS. Oh no, I shall keep to the one I am used to. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Pray, take care of yourself. + +COUNTESS. Merci, mille fois merci.[20] + + [GREGORY, dishevelled and excited, jumps out from the servants' + quarters. SIMON appears behind him in the doorway. + +SIMON. You'd better leave her alone! + +GREGORY. You rascal! I'll teach you how to fight, you scamp, you! + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. What do you mean? Do you think you are in a +public-house? + +GREGORY. This coarse peasant makes life impossible for me. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA (provoked). You've lost your senses. Don't you see? (To +COUNTESS.) Merci, mille fois merci. A mardi! [21] + + [Exeunt COUNTESS and FIRST FOOTMAN. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA (to GREGORY). What is the meaning of this? + +GREGORY. Though I do occupy the position of a footman, still I won't +allow every peasant to hit me; I have my pride too. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Why, what has happened? + +GREGORY. Why, this Simon of yours has got so brave, sitting with the +gentlemen, that he wants to fight! + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Why? What for? + +GREGORY. Heaven only knows! + +ANNA PAVLOVNA (to SIMON). What is the meaning of it? + +SIMON. Why does he bother her? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. What has happened? + +SIMON (smiles). Well, you see, he is always catching hold of Tanya, +the lady's-maid, and she won't have it. Well, so I just moved him +aside a bit, just so, with my hand. + +GREGORY. A nice little bit! He's almost caved my ribs in, and has torn +my dress-coat, and he says, "The same power as came over me yesterday +comes on me again," and he begins to squeeze me. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA (to SIMON). How dare you fight in my house? + +THEODORE IVANITCH. May I explain it to you, ma'am? I must tell you +Simon is not indifferent to Tanya, and is engaged to her. And Gregory +--one must admit the truth--does not behave properly, nor honestly, to +her. Well, so I suppose Simon got angry with him. + +GREGORY. Not at all! It is all his spite, because I have discovered +their trickery. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. What trickery? + +GREGORY. Why, at the seance. All those things, last night,--it was not +Simon but Tanya who did them! I saw her getting out from under the +sofa with my own eyes. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. What is that? From under the sofa? + +GREGORY. I give you my word of honor. And it was she who threw the +paper on the table. If it had not been for her the paper would not +have been signed, nor the land sold to the peasants. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. And you saw it yourself? + +GREGORY. With my own eyes. Shall I call her? She'll not deny it. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Yes, call her. + + [Exit GREGORY. + + [Noise behind the scenes. The voice of the DOORKEEPER, "No, no, + you cannot." DOORKEEPER is seen at the front door, the three + PEASANTS rush in past him, the SECOND PEASANT first; the THIRD + one stumbles, falls on his nose, and catches hold of it. + +DOORKEEPER. You must not go in! + +SECOND PEASANT. Where's the harm? We are not doing anything wrong. We +only wish to pay the money! + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just it; as by laying on the signature the +affair is come to a conclusion, we only wish to make payment with +thanks. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Wait a bit with your thanks. It was all done by fraud! +It is not settled yet. Not sold yet.... Leonid.... Call Leonid +Fyodoritch. + + [Exit DOORKEEPER. + + [LEONID FYODORITCH enters, but, seeing his wife and the PEASANTS, + wishes to retreat. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. No, no, come here, please! I told you the land must not +be sold on credit, and everybody told you so, but you let yourself be +deceived like the veriest blockhead. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. How? I don't understand who is deceiving? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. You ought to be ashamed of yourself! You have grey +hair, and you let yourself be deceived and laughed at like a silly +boy. You grudge your son some three hundred roubles which his social +position demands, and let yourself be tricked of thousands--like a +fool! + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Now come, Annette, try to be calm. + +FIRST PEASANT. We are only come about the acceptation of the sum, for +example.... + +THIRD PEASANT (taking out the money). Let us finish the matter, for +Christ's sake! + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Wait, wait! + + [Enter TANYA and GREGORY. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA (angrily). You were in the small drawing-room during the +seance last night? + + [TANYA looks around at THEODORE IVANITCH, LEONID FYODORITCH, and + SIMON, and sighs. + +GREGORY. It's no use beating about the bush; I saw you myself.... + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Tell me, were you there? I know all about it, so you'd +better confess! I'll not do anything to you. I only want to expose him +(pointing to LEONID FYODORITCH) your master.... Did you throw the +paper on the table? + +TANYA. I don't know how to answer. Only one thing,--let me go home. + + [Enter BETSY unobserved. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA (to LEONID FYODORITCH). There, you see! You are being +made a fool of. + +TANYA. Let me go home, Anna Pavlovna! + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. No, my dear! You may have caused us a loss of thousands +of roubles. Land has been sold that ought not to be sold! + +TANYA. Let me go, Anna Pavlovna! + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. No; you'll have to answer for it! Such tricks won't do. +We'll have you up before the Justice of the Peace! + +BETSY (comes forward). Let her go, mamma. Or, if you wish to have her +tried, you must have me tried too! She and I did it together. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Well, of course, if you have a hand in anything, what +can one expect but the very worst results! + + [Enter the PROFESSOR. + +PROFESSOR. How do you do, Anna Pavlovna? How do you do, Miss Betsy? +Leonid Fyodoritch, I have brought you a report of the Thirteenth +Congress of Spiritualists at Chicago. An amazing speech by Schmidt! + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Oh, that is interesting! + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. I will tell you something much more interesting! It +turns out that both you and my husband were fooled by this girl! Betsy +takes it on herself, but that is only to annoy me. It was an +illiterate peasant girl who fooled you, and you believed it all. +There were no mediumistic phenomena last night; it was she (pointing +to TANYA) who did it! + +PROFESSOR (taking off his overcoat). What do you mean? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. I mean that it was she who, in the dark, played on the +guitar and beat my husband on the head and performed all your idiotic +tricks--and she has just confessed! + +PROFESSOR (smiling). What does that prove? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. It proves that your mediumism is--tomfoolery; that's +what it proves! + +PROFESSOR. Because this young girl wished to deceive, we are to +conclude that mediumism is "tomfoolery," as you are pleased to express +it? (Smiles.) A curious conclusion! Very possibly this young girl may +have wished to deceive: that often occurs. She may even have done +something; but then, what she did--she did. But the manifestations of +mediumistic energy still remain manifestations of mediumistic energy! +It is even very probable that what this young girl did evoked (and so +to say solicited) the manifestation of mediumistic energy,--giving it +a definite form. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Another lecture! + +PROFESSOR (sternly). You say, Anna Pavlovna, that this girl, and +perhaps this dear young lady also, did something; but the light we all +saw, and, in the first case the fall, and in the second the rise of +temperature, and Grossman's excitement and vibration--were those +things also done by this girl? And these are facts, Anna Pavlovna, +facts! No! Anna Pavlovna, there are things which must be investigated +and fully understood before they can be talked about, things too +serious, too serious.... + +LEONID FYODORITCH. And the child that Marya Vasilevna distinctly saw? +Why, I saw it too.... That could not have been done by this girl. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. You think yourself wise, but you are--a fool. + +LEONID FYODORITCH. Well, I'm going.... Alexey Vladimiritch, will you +come? + + [Exit into his study. + +PROFESSOR (shrugging his shoulders, follows). Oh, how far, how far, we +still lag behind Western Europe! + + [Enter JACOB. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA (following LEONID FYODORITCH with her eyes). He has been +tricked like a fool, and he sees nothing! (To JACOB.) What do you +want? + +JACOB. How many persons am I to lay the table for? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. For how many?... Theodore Ivanitch! Let him give up the +silver plate to you. Be off, at once! It is all his fault! This man +will bring me to my grave. Last night he nearly starved the dog that +had done him no harm! And, as if that were not enough, he lets the +infected peasants into the kitchen, and now they are here again! It is +all his fault! Be off at once! Discharge him, discharge him! (To +SIMON.) And you, horrid peasant, if you dare to have rows in my house +again, I'll teach you! + +SECOND PEASANT. All right, if he is a horrid peasant there's no good +keeping him; you'd better discharge him too, and there's an end of it. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA (while listening to him looks at THIRD PEASANT). Only +look! Why, he has a rash on his nose--a rash! He is ill; he is a +hotbed of infection!! Did I not give orders, yesterday, that they were +not to be allowed into the house, and here they are again? Drive them +out! + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Then are we not to accept their money? + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. Their money? Oh yes, take their money; but they must be +turned out at once, especially this one! He is quite rotten! + +THIRD PEASANT. That's not just, lady. God's my witness, it's not just! +You'd better ask my old woman, let's say, whether I am rotten! I'm +clear as crystal, let's say. + +ANNA PAVLOVNA. He talks!... Off, off with him! It's all to spite +me!... Oh, I can't bear it, I can't!... Send for the doctor! + + [Runs away, sobbing. Exit also JACOB and GREGORY. + +TANYA (to BETSY). Miss Elizabeth, darling, what am I to do now? + +BETSY. Never mind, you go with them and I'll arrange it all. + + [Exit. + +FIRST PEASANT. Well, your reverence, how about the reception of the +sum now? + +SECOND PEASANT. Let us settle up, and go. + +THIRD PEASANT (fumbling with the packet of banknotes). Had I known, +I'd not have come for the world. It's worse than a fever! + +THEODORE IVANITCH (to DOORKEEPER). Show them into my room. There's a +counting-board there. I'll receive their money. Now go. + +DOORKEEPER. Come along. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. And it's Tanya you have to thank for it. But for +her you'd not have had the land. + +FIRST PEASANT. That's just it. As she made the proposal, so she put it +into effect. + +THIRD PEASANT. She's made men of us. Else what were we? We had so +little land, no room to let a hen out, let's say, not to mention the +cattle. Good-bye, dear! When you get to the village, come to us and +eat honey. + +SECOND PEASANT. Let me get home and I'll start brewing the beer for +the wedding! You will come? + +TANYA. Yes, I'll come, I'll come! (Shrieks.) Simon, this is fine, +isn't it? + + [Exeunt PEASANTS. + +THEODORE IVANITCH. Well, Tanya, when you have your house I'll come to +visit you. Will you welcome me? + +TANYA. Dear Theodore Ivanitch, just the same as we would our own +father! + + [Embraces and kisses him. + +CURTAIN + + + + +FOOTNOTES FOR FRUITS OF CULTURE + +1. Economical balls at which the ladies are bound to appear in + dresses made of cotton materials. + +2. The present value of the rouble is rather over fifty cents. + +3. The Gypsy choirs are very popular in Moscow. + +4. BETSY. Cease! You are becoming quite unbearable!. + +5. PETRISTCHEF. I have C said (ceased), B said, and D said. + +6. BARONESS. But tell me, please, is he paid for this? + + ANNA PAVLOVNA. I really do not know. + + BARONESS. But he is a gentleman? + + ANNA PAVLOVNA. Oh, yes! + + BARONESS. It is almost miraculous. Isn't it? How does he manage + to find things? + + ANNA PAVLOVNA. I really can't tell you. My husband will explain + it to you.... Excuse me.... + +7. Stunning! + +8. BARONESS. Capital! Does it not cause him any pain? + + LEONID FYODORITCH. Not the slightest. + +9. He uses a Centigrade thermometer. + +10. LEONID FYODORITCH. You bring good luck. + +11. FAT LADY. But he looks quite nice. + +12. To take a header. + +13. Do not disappoint us. + +14. BETSY. I have more than enough of your Koko. + +15. YOUNG PRINCESS. He is usually so very punctual.... + +16. BETSY. Cease; mind the servants! + +17. And that won't suit me at all, at all! Not at all, at all! + +18. Employers have charge of the servants' passports, and in this way + have a hold on them in case of misconduct. + +19. It is customary for peasants to marry just after Easter, but when + spring has come and the field work begun, no marriages take place + among them till autumn. (See also THE POWER OF DARKNESS + footnote 2.) + +20. COUNTESS. Thank you (for your hospitality), a thousand thanks + +21. ANNA PAVLOVNA. Thank you (for coming to see us), a thousand + thanks. Till next Tuesday! + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, REDEMPTION AND TWO OTHER PLAYS *** + +This file should be named 7rdpt10.txt or 7rdpt10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 7rdpt11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 7rdpt10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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We need your donations. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a 501(c)(3) +organization with EIN [Employee Identification Number] 64-6221541 +Find out about how to make a donation at the bottom of this file. + + + +Title: The Kingdom of God is within you + +Author: Leo Tolstoy + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +Release Date: November, 2003 [Etext #4602] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on February 17, 2002] +[Date last updated: December 1, 2003] + +Project Gutenberg's The Kingdom of God is within you, by Leo Tolstoy +********This file should be named 8tkhw10.txt or 8tkhw10.zip******** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, 8tkhw11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8tkhw10a.txt + +This etext was produced by Jack Eden + + +Project Gutenberg Etexts are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not +keep etexts in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +The "legal small print" and other information about this book +may now be found at the end of this file. Please read this +important information, as it gives you specific rights and +tells you about restrictions in how the file may be used. + + + + + + + + + + +[For those interested, there is a note at the end of +this document that details the adaptations made to this +work to fit it into plain ASCII text] + + + + + + + +"THE KINGDOM OF GOD IS WITHIN YOU" +CHRISTIANITY NOT AS A MYSTIC RELIGION +BUT AS A NEW THEORY OF LIFE + +TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN OF COUNT LEO TOLSTOI +BY CONSTANCE GARNETT +New York, 1894 + + + +TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. + +The book I have had the privilege of translating is, undoubtedly, +one of the most remarkable studies of the social and psychological +condition of the modern world which has appeared in Europe for +many years, and its influence is sure to be lasting and far +reaching. Tolstoi's genius is beyond dispute. The verdict of the +civilized world has pronounced him as perhaps the greatest +novelist of our generation. But the philosophical and religious +works of his later years have met with a somewhat indifferent +reception. They have been much talked about, simply because they +were his work, but, as Tolstoi himself complains, they have never +been seriously discussed. I hardly think that he will have to +repeat the complaint in regard to the present volume. One may +disagree with his views, but no one can seriously deny the +originality, boldness, and depth of the social conception which he +develops with such powerful logic. The novelist has shown in this +book the religious fervor and spiritual insight of the prophet; +yet one is pleased to recognize that the artist is not wholly lost +in the thinker. The subtle intuitive perception of the +psychological basis of the social position, the analysis of the +frame of mind of oppressors and oppressed, and of the intoxication +of Authority and Servility, as well as the purely descriptive +passages in the last chapter--these could only have come from the +author of "War and Peace." + +The book will surely give all classes of readers much to think of, +and must call forth much criticism. It must be refuted by those +who disapprove of its teaching, if they do not want it to have +great influence. + +One cannot of course anticipate that English people, slow as they +are to be influenced by ideas, and instinctively distrustful of +all that is logical, will take a leap in the dark and attempt to +put Tolstoi's theory of life into practice. But one may at least +be sure that his destructive criticism of the present social and +political REGIME will become a powerful force in the work of +disintegration and social reconstruction which is going on around +us. Many earnest thinkers who, like Tolstoi, are struggling to +find their way out of the contradictions of our social order will +hail him as their spiritual guide. The individuality of the +author is felt in every line of his work, and even the most +prejudiced cannot resist the fascination of his genuineness, +sincerity, and profound earnestness. Whatever comes from a heart +such as his, swelling with anger and pity at the sufferings of +humanity, cannot fail to reach the hearts of others. No reader +can put down the book without feeling himself better and more +truth-loving for having read it. + +Many readers may be disappointed with the opening chapters of the +book. Tolstoi disdains all attempt to captivate the reader. He +begins by laying what he considers to be the logical foundation of +his doctrines, stringing together quotations from little-known +theological writers, and he keeps his own incisive logic for the +later part of the book. + +One word as to the translation. Tolstoi's style in his religious +and philosophical works differs considerably from that of his +novels. He no longer cares about the form of his work, and his +style is often slipshod, involved, and diffuse. It has been my +aim to give a faithful reproduction of the original. + +CONSTANCE GARNETT. +January,1894 + + + + +PREFACE. + +In the year 1884 I wrote a book under the title "What I Believe," +in which I did in fact make a sincere statement of my beliefs. + +In affirming my belief in Christ's teaching, I could not help +explaining why I do not believe, and consider as mistaken, the +Church's doctrine, which is usually called Christianity. + +Among the many points in which this doctrine falls short of the +doctrine of Christ I pointed out as the principal one the absence +of any commandment of non-resistance to evil by force. The +perversion of Christ's teaching by the teaching of the Church is +more clearly apparent in this than in any other point of +difference. + +I know--as we all do--very little of the practice and the spoken +and written doctrine of former times on the subject of non- +resistance to evil. I knew what had been said on the subject by +the fathers of the Church--Origen, Tertullian, and others--I knew +too of the existence of some so-called sects of Mennonites, +Herrnhuters, and Quakers, who do not allow a Christian the use of +weapons, and do not enter military service; but I knew little of +what had been done. by these so-called sects toward expounding the +question. + +My book was, as I had anticipated, suppressed by the Russian +censorship; but partly owing to my literary reputation, partly +because the book had excited people's curiosity, it circulated in +manuscript and in lithographed copies in Russia and through +translations abroad, and it evolved, on one side, from those who +shared my convictions, a series of essays with a great deal of +information on the subject, on the other side a series of +criticisms on the principles laid down in my book. + +A great deal was made clear to me by both hostile and sympathetic +criticism, and also by the historical events of late years; and I +was led to fresh results and conclusions, which I wish now to +expound. + +First I will speak of the information I received on the history of +the question of non-resistance to evil; then of the views of this +question maintained by spiritual critics, that is, by professed +believers in the Christian religion, and also by temporal ones, +that is, those who do not profess the Christian religion; and +lastly I will speak of the conclusions to which I have been +brought by all this in the light of the historical events of late +years. + +L. TOLSTOI. +YASNAIA POLIANA, +May 14/26, 1893. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + I. THE DOCTRINE OF NONRESISTANCE TO EVIL BY FORCE + HAS BEEN PROFESSED BY A MINORITY OF MEN FROM + THE VERY FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY + + II. CRITICISMS OF THE DOCTRINE OF NON-RESISTANCE TO + EVIL BY FORCE ON THE PART OF BELIEVERS AND OF UNBELIEVERS + + III. CHRISTIANITY MISUNDERSTOOD BY BELIEVERS + + IV. CHRISTIANITY MISUNDERSTOOD BY MEN OF SCIENCE + + V. CONTRADICTION BETWEEN OUR LIFE AND OUR CHRISTIAN + CONSCIENCE + + VI. ATTITUDE OF MEN OF THE PRESENT DAY TO WAR + + VII. SIGNIFICANCE OF COMPULSORY SERVICE + + VIII. DOCTRINE OF NON-RESISTANCE TO EVIL BY FORCE MUST + INEVITABLY BE ACCEPTED BY MEN OF THE PRESENT DAY + + IX. THE ACCEPTANCE OF THE CHRISTIAN CONCEPTION OF + LIFE WILL EMANCIPATE MEN FROM THE MISERIES OF OUR PAGAN + LIFE + + X. EVIL CANNOT BE SUPRESSED BY THE PHYSICAL FORCE OF THE + GOVERNMENT--THE MORAL PROGRESS OF HUMANITY IS BROUGHT ABOUT + NOT ONLY BY INDIVIDUAL RECOGNITION OF THE TRUTH BUT ALSO + THROUGH THE ESTABLISHMENT OF A PUBLIC OPINION + + XI. THE CHRISTIAN CONCEPTION OF LIFE HAS ALREADY + ARISEN IN OUR SOCIETY, AND WILL INFALLIBLY PUT + AN END TO THE PRESENT ORGANIZATION OP OUR LIFE + BASED ON FORCE--WHEN THAT WILL BE + + XII. CONCLUSION--REPENT YE, FOR THE KINGDOM OF + HEAVEN IS AT HAND + + + + + "Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you + free. "--John viii. 32. + + "Fear not them which hill the body, but are not able to + kill the soul; but rather fear him which is able to + destroy both soul and body in hell."--MATT. x. 28. + + "Ye have been bought with a price; be not ye the servants + of men."--I COR. vii. 23. + + + + + +"THE KINGDOM OF GOD IS WITHIN YOU." + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE DOCTRINE OF NON-RESISTANCE TO EVIL BY FORCE HAS BEEN PROFESSED +BY A MINORITY OF MEN FROM THE VERY FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIANITY. + +Of the Book "What I Believe"--The Correspondence Evoked by it-- +Letters from Quakers--Garrison's Declaration--Adin Ballou, his +Works, his Catechism--Helchitsky's "Net of Faith"--The Attitude +of the World to Works Elucidating Christ's Teaching--Dymond's +Book "On War"--Musser's "Non-resistance Asserted"--Attitude of +the Government in 1818 to Men who Refused to Serve in the Army +--Hostile Attitude of Governments Generally and of Liberals to +Those who Refuse to Assist in Acts of State Violence, and their +Conscious Efforts to Silence and Suppress these Manifestations +of Christian Non-resistance. + + +Among the first responses some letters called forth by my book +were some letters from American Quakers. In these letters, +expressing their sympathy with my views on the unlawfulness for a +Christian of war and the use of force of any kind, the Quakers +gave me details of their own so-called sect, which for more than +two hundred years has actually professed the teaching of Christ on +non-resistance to evil by force, and does not make use of weapons +in self-defense. The Quakers sent me books, from which I learnt +how they had, years ago, established beyond doubt the duty for a +Christian of fulfilling the command of non-resistance to evil by +force, and had exposed the error of the Church's teaching in +allowing war and capital punishment. + +In a whole series of arguments and texts showing that war--that +is, the wounding and killing of men--is inconsistent with a +religion founded on peace and good will toward men, the Quakers +maintain and prove that nothing has contributed so much to the +obscuring of Christian truth in the eyes of the heathen, and has +hindered so much the diffusion of Christianity through the world, +as the disregard of this command by men calling themselves +Christians, and the permission of war and violence to Christians. + +"Christ's teaching, which came to be known to men, not by means of +violence and the sword," they say, "but by means of non-resistance +to evil, gentleness, meekness, and peaceableness, can only be +diffused through the world by the example of peace, harmony, and +love among its followers." + +"A Christian, according to the teaching of God himself, can act +only peaceably toward all men, and therefore there can be no +authority able to force the Christian to act in opposition to the +teaching of God and to the principal virtue of the Christian in +his relation with his neighbors." + +"The law of state necessity," they say, "can force only those to +change the law of God who, for the sake of earthly gains, try to +reconcile the irreconcilable; but for a Christian who sincerely +believes that following Christ's teaching will give him salvation, +such considerations of state can have no force." + +Further acquaintance with the labors of the Quakers and their +works--with Fox, Penn, and especially the work of Dymond +(published in 1827)--showed me not only that the impossibility of +reconciling Christianity with force and war had been recognized +long, long ago, but that this irreconcilability had been long ago +proved so clearly and so indubitably that one could only wonder +how this impossible reconciliation of Christian teaching with the +use of force, which has been, and is still, preached in the +churches, could have been maintained in spite of it. + +In addition to what I learned from the Quakers I received about +the same time, also from America, some information on the subject +from a source perfectly distinct and previously unknown to me. + +The son of William Lloyd Garrison, the famous champion of the +emancipation of the negroes, wrote to me that he had read my book, +in which he found ideas similar to those expressed by his father +in the year 1838, and that, thinking it would be interesting to me +to know this, he sent me a declaration or proclamation of "non- +resistance" drawn up by his father nearly fifty years ago. + +This declaration came about under the following circumstances: +William Lloyd Garrison took part in a discussion on the means of +suppressing war in the Society for the Establishment of Peace +among Men, which existed in 1838 in America. He came to the +conclusion that the establishment of universal peace can only be +founded on the open profession of the doctrine of non-resistance +to evil by violence (Matt. v. 39), in its full significance, as +understood by the Quakers, with whom Garrison happened to be on +friendly relations. Having come to this conclusion, Garrison +thereupon composed and laid before the society a declaration, +which was signed at the time--in 1838--by many members. + + "DECLARATION OF SENTIMENTS ADOPTED BY PEACE CONVENTION. + "Boston, 1838. + + "We the undersigned, regard it as due to ourselves, to the + cause which we love, to the country in which we live, to + publish a declaration expressive of the purposes we aim to + accomplish and the measures we shall adopt to carry forward the + work of peaceful universal reformation. + + "We do not acknowledge allegiance to any human government. We + recognize but one King and Lawgiver, one Judge and Ruler of + mankind. Our country is the world, our countrymen are all + mankind. We love the land of our nativity only as we love all + other lands. The interests and rights of American citizens are + not dearer to us than those of the whole human race. Hence we + can allow no appeal to patriotism to revenge any national + insult or injury... + + "We conceive that a nation has no right to defend itself + against foreign enemies or to punish its invaders, and no + individual possesses that right in his own case, and the unit + cannot be of greater importance than the aggregate. If + soldiers thronging from abroad with intent to commit rapine and + destroy life may not be resisted by the people or the + magistracy, then ought no resistance to be offered to domestic + troublers of the public peace or of private security. + + "The dogma that all the governments of the world are + approvingly ordained of God, and that the powers that be in the + United States, in Russia, in Turkey, are in accordance with his + will, is no less absurd than impious. It makes the impartial + Author of our existence unequal and tyrannical. It cannot be + affirmed that the powers that be in any nation are actuated by + the spirit or guided by the example of Christ in the treatment + of enemies; therefore they cannot be agreeable to the will of + God, and therefore their overthrow by a spiritual regeneration + of their subjects is inevitable. + + "We regard as unchristian and unlawful not only all wars, + whether offensive or defensive, but all preparations for war; + every naval ship, every arsenal, every fortification, we regard + as unchristian and unlawful; the existence of any kind of + standing army, all military chieftains, all monuments + commemorative of victory over a fallen foe, all trophies won in + battle, all celebrations in honor of military exploits, all + appropriations for defense by arms; we regard as unchristian + and unlawful every edict of government requiring of its + subjects military service. + + "Hence we deem it unlawful to bear arms, and we cannot hold any + office which imposes on its incumbent the obligation to compel + men to do right on pain of imprisonment or death. We therefore + voluntarily exclude ourselves from every legislative and + judicial body, and repudiate all human politics, worldly + honors, and stations of authority. If we cannot occupy a seat + in the legislature or on the bench, neither can we elect others + to act as our substitutes in any such capacity. It follows + that we cannot sue any man at law to force him to return + anything he may have wrongly taken from us; if he has seized + our coat, we shall surrender him our cloak also rather than + subject him to punishment. + + "We believe that the penal code of the old covenant--an eye for + an eye, and a tooth for a tooth--has been abrogated by Jesus + Christ, and that under the new covenant the forgiveness instead + of the punishment of enemies has been enjoined on all his + disciples in all cases whatsoever. To extort money from + enemies, cast them into prison, exile or execute them, is + obviously not to forgive but to take retribution. + + "The history of mankind is crowded with evidences proving that + physical coercion is not adapted to moral regeneration, and + that the sinful dispositions of men can be subdued only by + love; that evil can be exterminated only by good; that it is + not safe to rely upon the strength of an arm to preserve us + from harm; that there is great security in being gentle, long- + suffering, and abundant in mercy; that it is only the meek who + shall inherit the earth; for those who take up the sword shall + perish by the sword. + + "Hence as a measure of sound policy--of safety to property, + life, and liberty--of public quietude and private enjoyment--as + well as on the ground of allegiance to Him who is King of kings + and Lord of lords, we cordially adopt the non-resistance + principle, being confident that it provides for all possible + consequences, is armed with omnipotent power, and must + ultimately triumph over every assailing force. + + "We advocate no Jacobinical doctrines. The spirit of + Jacobinism is the spirit of retaliation, violence, and murder. + It neither fears God nor regards man. We would be filled with + the spirit of Christ. If we abide evil by our fundamental + principle of not opposing evil by evil we cannot participate in + sedition, treason, or violence. We shall submit to every + ordinance and every requirement of government, except such as + are contrary to the commands of the Gospel, and in no case + resist the operation of law, except by meekly submitting to the + penalty of disobedience. + + "But while we shall adhere to the doctrine of non-resistance + and passive submission to enemies, we purpose, in a moral and + spiritual sense, to assail iniquity in high places and in low + places, to apply our principles to all existing evil, + political, legal, and ecclesiastical institutions, and to + hasten the time when the kingdoms of this world will have + become the kingdom of our Lord Jesus Christ. It appears to us + a self-evident truth that whatever the Gospel is designed to + destroy at any period of the world, being contrary to it, ought + now to be abandoned. If, then, the time is predicted when + swords shall be beaten into plowshares and spears into pruning + hooks, and men shall not learn the art of war any more, it + follows that all who manufacture, sell, or wield these deadly + weapons do thus array themselves against the peaceful dominion + of the Son of God on earth. + + "Having thus stated our principles, we proceed to specify the + measures we propose to adopt in carrying our object into + effect. + + "We expect to prevail through the Foolishness of Preaching. We + shall endeavor to promulgate our views among all persons, to + whatever nation, sect, or grade of society they may belong. + Hence we shall organize public lectures, circulate tracts and + publications, form societies, and petition every governing + body. It will be our leading object to devise ways and means + for effecting a radical change in the views, feelings, and + practices of society respecting the sinfulness of war and the + treatment of enemies. + + "In entering upon the great work before us, we are not + unmindful that in its prosecution we may be called to test + our sincerity even as in a fiery ordeal. It may subject us to + insult, outrage, suffering, yea, even death itself. We + anticipate no small amount of misconception, misrepresentation, + and calumny. Tumults may arise against us. The proud and + pharisaical, the ambitious and tyrannical, principalities and + powers, may combine to crush us. So they treated the Messiah + whose example we are humbly striving to imitate. We shall not + be afraid of their terror. Our confidence is in the Lord + Almighty and not in man. Having withdrawn from human + protection, what can sustain us but that faith which overcomes + the world? We shall not think it strange concerning the fiery + trial which is to try us, but rejoice inasmuch as we are + partakers of Christ's sufferings. + + "Wherefore we commit the keeping of our souls to God. For every + one that forsakes houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, + or mother, or wife, or children, or lands for Christ's sake, + shall receive a hundredfold, and shall inherit everlasting + life. + + "Firmly relying upon the certain and universal triumph of the + sentiments contained in this declaration, however formidable + may be the opposition arrayed against them, we hereby affix our + signatures to it; commending it to the reason and conscience of + mankind, and resolving, in the strength of the Lord God, to + calmly and meekly abide the issue." + +Immediately after this declaration a Society for Nonresistance was +founded by Garrison, and a journal called the NON-RESISTANT, in +which the doctrine of non-resistance was advocated in its full +significance and in all its consequences, as it had been expounded +in the declaration. Further information as to the ultimate +destiny of the society and the journal I gained from the excellent +biography of W. L. Garrison, the work of his son. + +The society and the journal did not exist for long. The +greater number of Garrison's fellow-workers in the movement for +the liberation of the slaves, fearing that the too radical +programme of the journal, the NON-RESISTANT, might keep people +away from the practical work of negro-emancipation, gave up the +profession of the principle of non-resistance as it had been +expressed in the declaration, and both society and journal ceased +to exist. + +This declaration of Garrison's gave so powerful and eloquent an +expression of a confession of faith of such importance to men, +that one would have thought it must have produced a strong +impression on people, and have become known throughout the world +and the subject of discussion on every side. But nothing of the +kind occurred. Not only was it unknown in Europe, even the +Americans, who have such a high opinion of Garrison, hardly knew +of the declaration. + +Another champion of non-resistance has been overlooked in the same +way--the American Adin Ballou, who lately died, after spending +fifty years in preaching this doctrine. Lord God, to calmly and +meekly abide the doctrine. How great the ignorance is of +everything relating to the question of non-resistance may be seen +from the fact that Garrison the son, who has written an excellent +biography of his father in four great volumes, in answer to my +inquiry whether there are existing now societies for non- +resistance, and adherents of the doctrine, told me that as far as +he knew that society had broken up, and that there were no +adherents of that doctrine, while at the very time when he was +writing to me there was living, at Hopedale in Massachusetts, Adin +Ballou, who had taken part in the labors of Garrison the father, +and had devoted fifty years of his life to advocating, both orally +and in print, the doctrine of nonresistance. Later on I received +a letter from Wilson, a pupil and colleague of Ballou's, and +entered into correspondence with Ballou himself. I wrote to +Ballou, and he answered me and sent me his works. Here is the +summary of some extracts from them: + + "Jesus Christ is my Lord and teacher," says Ballou in one of + his essays exposing the inconsistency of Christians who allowed + a right of self-defense and of warfare. "I have promised + leaving all else, to follow good and through evil, to death + itself. But I am a citizen of the democratic republic of the + United States; and in allegiance to it I have sworn to defend + the Constitution of my country, if need be, with my life. + Christ requires of me to do unto others as I would they should + do unto me. The Constitution of the United States requires of + me to do unto two millions of slaves [at that time there were + slaves; now one might venture to substitute the word + 'laborers'] the very opposite of what I would they should do + unto me--that is to help to keep them in their present + condition of slavery. And, in spite of this, I continue to + elect or be elected, I propose to vote, I am even ready to be + appointed to any office under government. That will not hinder + me from being a Christian. I shall still profess Christianity, + and shall find no difficulty in carrying out my covenant + with Christ and with the government. + + "Jesus Christ forbids me to resist evil doers, and to take from + them an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, bloodshed for + bloodshed, and life for life. + + "My government demands from me quite the opposite, and bases a + system of self-defense on gallows, musket, and sword, to be + used against its foreign and domestic foes. And the land is + filled accordingly with gibbets, prisons, arsenals, ships of + war, and soldiers. + + "In the maintenance and use of these expensive appliances for + murder, we can very suitably exercise to the full the virtues + of forgiveness to those who injure us, love toward our enemies, + blessings to those who curse us, and doing good to those who + hate us. + + "For this we have a succession of Christian priests to pray for + us and beseech the blessing of Heaven on the holy work of + slaughter. + + "I see all this (i.e., the contradiction between profession and + practice), and I continue to profess religion and take part in + government, and pride myself on being at the same time a devout + Christian and a devoted servant of the government. I do not + want to agree with these senseless notions of non-resistance. + I cannot renounce my authority and leave only immoral men in + control of the government. The Constitution says the + government has the right to declare war, and I assent to this + and support it, and swear that I will support it. And I do not + for that cease to be a Christian. War, too, is a Christian + duty. Is it not a Christian duty to kill hundreds of thousands + of one's fellow-men, to outrage women, to raze and burn towns, + and to practice every possible cruelty? It is time to dismiss + all these false sentimentalities. It is the truest means of + forgiving injuries and loving enemies. If we only do it in the + spirit of love, nothing can be more Christian than such + murder." + +In another pamphlet, entitled "How many Men are Necessary to +Change a Crime into a Virtue?" he says: "One man may not kill. If +he kills a fellow-creature, he is a murderer. If two, ten, a +hundred men do so, they, too, are murderers. But a government or +a nation may kill as many men as it chooses, and that will not be +murder, but a great and noble action. Only gather the people +together on a large scale, and a battle of ten thousand men +becomes an innocent action. But precisely how many people must +there be to make it so?--that is the question. One man cannot +plunder and pillage, but a whole nation can. But precisely how +many are needed to make it permissible? Why is it that one man, +ten, a hundred, may not break the law of God, but a great number +may?" + +And here is a version of Ballou's catechism composed for his +flock: + + CATECHISM OF NON-RESISTANCE. + + Q. Whence is the word "non-resistance" derived? + + A. From the command, "Resist not evil." (M. v. 39.) + + Q. What does this word express? + + A. It expresses a lofty Christian virtue enjoined on us by + Christ. + + Q. Ought the word "non-resistance" to be taken in its widest + sense--that is to say, as intending that we should not offer + any resistance of any kind to evil? + + A. No; it ought to be taken in the exact sense of our Saviour's + teaching--that is, not repaying evil for evil. We ought to + oppose evil by every righteous means in our power, but not by + evil. + + Q. What is there to show that Christ enjoined non-resistance in + that sense? + + A. It is shown by the words he uttered at the same time. He + said: "Ye have heard, it was said of old, An eye for an eye, + and a tooth for a tooth. But I say unto you Resist not evil. + But if one smites thee on the right cheek, turn him the other + also; and if one will go to law with thee to take thy coat from + thee, give him thy cloak also." + + Q. Of whom was he speaking in the words, "Ye have heard it was + said of old"? + + A. Of the patriarchs and the prophets, contained in the Old + Testament, which the Hebrews ordinarily call the Law and the + Prophets. + + Q. What utterances did Christ refer to in the words, "It was + said of old"? + + A. The utterances of Noah, Moses, and the other prophets, in + which they admit the right of doing bodily harm to those who + inflict harm, so as to punish and prevent evil deeds. + + Q. Quote such utterances. + + A. "Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be + shed."--GEN. ix. 6. + + "He that smiteth a man, so that he die, shall be surely put to + death...And if any mischief follow, then thou shalt give life + for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for + foot, burning for burning, wound for wound, stripe for stripe." + --Ex. xxi. 12 and 23-25. + + "He that killeth any man shall surely be put to death. And if + a man cause a blemish in his neighbor, as he hath done, so + shall it be done unto him: breach for breach, eye for eye, + tooth for tooth."--LEV. xxiv. 17, 19, 20. + + "Then the judges shall make diligent inquisition; and behold, + if the witness be a false witness, and hath testified falsely + against his brother, then shall ye do unto him as he had + thought to have done unto his brother...And thine eye shall not + pity; but life shall go for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, + hand for hand, foot for foot."--DEUT. xix. 18, 21. + + Noah, Moses, and the Prophets taught that he who kills, maims, + or injures his neighbors does evil. To resist such evil, and + to prevent it, the evil doer must be punished with death, or + maiming, or some physical injury. Wrong must be opposed by + wrong, murder by murder, injury by injury, evil by evil. Thus + taught Noah, Moses, and the Prophets. But Christ rejects all + this. "I say unto you," is written in the Gospel, "resist not + evil," do not oppose injury with injury, but rather bear + repeated injury from the evil doer. What was permitted is + forbidden. When we understand what kind of resistance they + taught, we know exactly what resistance Christ forbade. + + Q. Then the ancients allowed the resistance of injury by + injury? + + A. Yes. But Jesus forbids it. The Christian has in no case the + right to put to death his neighbor who has done him evil, or to + do him injury in return. + + Q. May he kill or maim him in self-defense? + + A. No. + + Q. May he go with a complaint to the judge that he who has + wronged him may be punished? + + A. No. What he does through others, he is in reality doing + himself. + + Q. Can he fight in conflict with foreign enemies or disturbers + of the peace? + + A. Certainly not. He cannot take any part in war or in + preparations for war. He cannot make use of a deadly weapon. + He cannot oppose injury to injury, whether he is alone or with + others, either in person or through other people. + + Q. Can he voluntarily vote or furnish soldiers for the + government? + + A. He can do nothing of that kind if he wishes to be faithful + to Christ's law. + + Q. Can he voluntarily give money to aid a government resting on + military force, capital punishment, and violence in general? + + A. No, unless the money is destined for some special object, + right in itself, and good both in aim and means. + + Q. Can he pay taxes to such a government? + + A. No; he ought not voluntarily to pay taxes, but he ought not + to resist the collecting of taxes. A tax is levied by the + government, and is exacted independently of the will of the + subject. It is impossible to resist it without having recourse + to violence of some kind. Since the Christian cannot employ + violence, he is obliged to offer his property at once to the + loss by violence inflicted on it by the authorities. + + Q. Can a Christian give a vote at elections, or take part in + government or law business? + + A. No; participation in election, government, or law business + is participation in government by force. + + Q. Wherein lies the chief significance of the doctrine of + non-resistance? + + A. In the fact that it alone allows of the possibility of + eradicating evil from one's own heart, and also from one's + neighbor's. This doctrine forbids doing that whereby evil has + endured for ages and multiplied in the world. He who attacks + another and injures him, kindles in the other a feeling of + hatred, the root of every evil. To injure another because he + has injured us, even with the aim of overcoming evil, is + doubling the harm for him and for oneself; it is begetting, or + at least setting free and inciting, that evil spirit which we + should wish to drive out. Satan can never be driven out by + Satan. Error can never be corrected by error, and evil cannot + be vanquished by evil. + + True non-resistance is the only real resistance to evil. It is + crushing the serpent's head. It destroys and in the end + extirpates the evil feeling. + + Q. But if that is the true meaning of the rule of non- + resistance, can it always put into practice? + + A. It can be put into practice like every virtue enjoined by + the law of God. A virtue cannot be practiced in all + circumstances without self-sacrifice, privation, suffering, and + in extreme cases loss of life itself. But he who esteems life + more than fulfilling the will of God is already dead to the + only true life. Trying to save his life he loses it. Besides, + generally speaking, where non-resistance costs the sacrifice of + a single life or of some material welfare, resistance costs a + thousand such sacrifices. + + Non-resistance is Salvation; Resistance is Ruin. + + It is incomparably less dangerous to act justly than unjustly, + to submit to injuries than to resist them with violence, less + dangerous even in one's relations to the present life. If all + men refused to resist evil by evil our world would be happy. + + Q. But so long as only a few act thus, what will happen to + them? + + A. If only one man acted thus, and all the rest agreed + to crucify him, would it not be nobler for him to die in the + glory of non-resisting love, praying for his enemies, than to + live to wear the crown of Caesar stained with the blood of the + slain? However, one man, or a thousand men, firmly resolved + not to oppose evil by evil are far more free from danger by + violence than those who resort to violence, whether among + civilized or savage neighbors. The robber, the murderer, and + the cheat will leave them in peace, sooner than those who + oppose them with arms, and those who take up the sword shall + perish by the sword, but those who seek after peace, and behave + kindly and harmlessly, forgiving and forgetting injuries, for + the most part enjoy peace, or, if they die, they die blessed. + In this way, if all kept the ordinance of non-resistance, there + would obviously be no evil nor crime. If the majority acted + thus they would establish the rule of love and good will even + over evil doers, never opposing evil with evil, and never + resorting to force. If there were a moderately large minority + of such men, they would exercise such a salutary moral + influence on society that every cruel punishment would be + abolished, and violence and feud would be replaced by peace and + love. Even if there were only a small minority of them, they + would rarely experience anything worse than the world's + contempt, and meantime the world, though unconscious of it, and + not grateful for it, would be continually becoming wiser and + better for their unseen action on it. And if in the worst case + some members of the minority were persecuted to death, in dying + for the truth they would have left behind them their doctrine, + sanctified by the blood of their martyrdom. Peace, then, to + all who seek peace, and may overruling love be the imperishable + heritage of every soul who obeys willingly Christ's word, + "Resist not evil." + + ADIN BALLOU. + +For fifty years Ballou wrote and published books dealing +principally with the question of non-resistance to evil by force. +In these works, which are distinguished by the clearness of their +thought and eloquence of exposition, the question is looked at +from every possible side, and the binding nature of this command +on every Christian who acknowledges the Bible as the revelation of +God is firmly established. All the ordinary objections to the +doctrine of non-resistance from the Old and New Testaments are +brought forward, such as the expulsion of the moneychangers from +the Temple, and so on, and arguments follow in disproof of them +all. The practical reasonableness of this rule of conduct is +shown independently of Scripture, and all the objections +ordinarily made against its practicability are stated and refuted. +Thus one chapter in a book of his treats of non-resistance in +exceptional cases, and he owns in this connection that if there +were cases in which the rule of non-resistance were impossible of +application, it would prove that the law was not universally +authoritative. Quoting these cases, he shows that it is precisely +in them that the application of the rule is both necessary and +reasonable. There is no aspect of the question, either on his +side or on his opponents', which he has not followed up in his +writings. I mention all this to show the unmistakable interest +which such works ought to have for men who make a profession of +Christianity, and because one would have thought Ballou's work +would have been well known, and the ideas expressed by him would +lave been either accepted or refuted; but such has not been the +case. + +The work of Garrison, the father, in his foundation of the Society +of Non-resistants and his Declaration, even more than my +correspondence with the Quakers, convinced me of the fact that the +departure of the ruling form of Christianity from the law of +Christ on non-resistance by force is an error that has long been +observed and pointed out, and that men have labored, and are still +laboring, to correct. Ballou's work confirmed me still more in +this view. But the fate of Garrison, still more that of Ballou, +in being completely unrecognized in spite of fifty years of +obstinate and persistent work in the same direction, confirmed me +in the idea that there exists a kind of tacit but steadfast +conspiracy of silence about all such efforts. + +Ballou died in August, 1890, and there was as obituary notice of +him in an American journal of Christian views (RELIGIO- +PHILOSOPHICAL JOURNAL, August 23). In this laudatory notice it is +recorded that Ballou was the spiritual director of a parish, that +he delivered from eight to nine thousand sermons, married one +thousand couples, and wrote about five hundred articles; but there +is not a single word said of the object to which he devoted his +life; even the word "non-resistance" is not mentioned. Precisely +as it was with all the preaching of the Quakers for two hundred +years and, too, with the efforts of Garrison the father, the +foundation of his society and journal, and his Declaration, so it +is with the life-work of Ballou. It seems just as though it did +not exist and never had existed. + +We have an astounding example of the obscurity of works which aim +at expounding the doctrine of non-resistance to evil by force, and +at confuting those who do not recognize this commandment, in the +book of the Tsech Helchitsky, which has only lately been noticed +and has not hitherto been printed. + +Soon after the appearance of my book in German, I received a +letter from Prague, from a professor of the university there, +informing me of the existence of a work, never yet printed, by +Helchitsky, a Tsech of the fifteenth century, entitled "The Net of +Faith." In this work, the professor told me, Helchitsky expressed +precisely the same view as to true and false Christianity as I had +expressed in my book "What I Believe." The professor wrote to me +that Helchitsky's work was to be published for the first time in +the Tsech language in the JOURNAL OF THE PETERSBURG ACADEMY OF +SILENCE. Since I could not obtain the book itself, I tried to +make myself acquainted with what was known of Helchitsky, and I +gained the following information from a German book sent me by the +Prague professor and from Pypin's history of Tsech literature. +This was Pypin's account: + + "'The Net of Faith' is Christ's teaching, which ought to draw + man up out of the dark depths of the sea of worldliness and his + own iniquity. True faith consists in believing God's Word; but + now a time has come when men mistake the true faith for heresy, + and therefore it is for the reason to point out what the true + faith consists in, if anyone does not know this. It is hidden + in darkness from men, and they do not recognize the true law of + Christ. + + "To make this law plain, Helchitsky points to the primitive + organization of Christian society--the organization which, he + says, is now regarded in the Roman Church as an abominable + heresy. This Primitive Church was his special ideal of social + organization, founded on equality, liberty, and fraternity. + Christianity, in Helchitsky's view, still preserves these + elements, and it is only necessary for society to return to its + pure doctrine to render unnecessary every other form of social + order in which kings and popes are essential; the law of love + would alone be sufficient in every case. + + "Historically, Helchitsky attributes the degeneration of + Christianity to the times of Constantine the Great, whom he + Pope Sylvester admitted into the Christian Church with all his + heathen morals and life. Constantine, in his turn, endowed the + Pope with worldly riches and power. From that time forward + these two ruling powers were constantly aiding one another to + strive for nothing but outward glory. Divines and + ecclesiastical dignitaries began to concern themselves only + about subduing the whole world to their authority, incited men + against one another to murder and plunder, and in creed and + life reduced Christianity to a nullity. Helchitsky denies + completely the right to make war and to inflict the punishment + of death; every soldier, even the 'knight,' is only a violent + evil doer--a murderer." + +The same account is given by the German book, with the addition of +a few biographical details and some extracts from Helchitsky's +writings. + +Having learnt the drift of Helchitsky's teaching in this way, I +awaited all the more impatiently the appearance of "The Net of +Faith" in the journal of the Academy. But one year passed, then +two and three, and still the book did appear. It was only in 1888 +that I learned that the printing of the book, which had been +begun, was stopped. I obtained the proofs of what had been +printed and read them through. It is a marvelous book from every +point of view. + +Its general tenor is given with perfect accuracy by Pypin. +Helchitsky's fundamental idea is that Christianity, by allying +itself with temporal power in the days of Constantine, and by +continuing to develop in such conditions, has become completely +distorted, and has ceased to be Christian altogether. Helchitsky +gave the title "The Net of Faith" to his book, taking as his motto +the verse of the Gospel about the calling of the disciples to be +fishers of men; and, developing this metaphor, he says: + + "Christ, by means of his disciples, would have caught all the + world in his net of faith, but the greater fishes broke the net + and escaped out of it, and all the rest have slipped through + the holes made by the greater fishes, so that the net has + remained quite empty. The greater fishes who broke the net are + the rulers, emperors, popes, kings, who have not renounced + power, and instead of true Christianity have put on what is + simply a mask of it." + +Helchitsky teaches precisely what has been and is taught in these +days by the non-resistant Mennonites and Quakers, and in former +tunes by the Bogomilites, Paulicians, and many others. He teaches +that Christianity, expecting from its adherents gentleness, +meekness, peaceableness, forgiveness of injuries, turning the +other cheek when one is struck, and love for enemies, is +inconsistent with the use of force, which is an indispensable +condition of authority. + +The Christian, according to Helchitsky's reasoning, not only +cannot be a ruler or a soldier; he cannot take any part in +government nor in trade, or even be a landowner; he can only be an +artisan or a husbandman. + +This book is one of the few works attacking official Christianity +which has escaped being burned. All such so-called heretical +works were burned at the stake, together with their authors, so +that there are few ancient works exposing the errors of official +Christianity. The book has a special interest for this reason +alone. But apart from its interest from every point of view, it +is one of the most remarkable products of thought for its depth of +aim, for the astounding strength and beauty of the national +language in which it is written, and for its antiquity. And yet +for more than four centuries it has remained unprinted, and is +still unknown, except to a few learned specialists. + +One would have thought that all such works, whether of the +Quakers, of Garrison, of Ballou, or of Helchitsky, asserting and +proving as they do, on the principles of the Gospel, that our +modern world takes a false view of Christ's teaching, would have +awakened interest, excitement, talk, and discussion among +spiritual teachers and their flocks alike. + +Works of this kind, dealing with the very essence of Christian +doctrine, ought, one would have thought, to have been examined and +accepted as true, or refuted and rejected. But nothing of the +kind has occurred, and the same fate has been repeated with all +those works. Men of the most diverse views, believers, and, what +is surprising, unbelieving liberals also, as though by agreement, +all preserve the same persistent silence about them, and all that +has been done by people to explain the true meaning of Christ's +doctrine remains either ignored or forgotten. + +But it is still more astonishing that two other books, of +which I heard on the appearance of my book, should be so little +known, I mean Dymond's book "On War," published for the first time +in London in 1824, and Daniel Musser's book on "Non-resistance," +written in 1864. It is particularly astonishing that these books +should be unknown, because, apart from their intrinsic merits, +both books treat not so much of the theory as of the practical +application of the theory to life, of the attitude of Christianity +to military service, which is especially important and interesting +now in these clays of universal conscription. + +People will ask, perhaps: How ought a subject to behave who +believes that war is inconsistent with his religion while the +government demands from him that he should enter military service? + +This question is, I think, a most vital one, and the answer to it +is specially important in these days of universal conscription. +All--or at least the great majority of the people--are Christians, +and all men are called upon for military service. How ought a +man, as a Christian, to meet this demand? This is the gist of +Dymond's answer: + + "His duty is humbly but steadfastly to refuse to serve." + +There are some people, who, without any definite reasoning about +it, conclude straightway that the responsibility of government +measures rests entirely on those who resolve on them, or that the +governments and sovereigns decide the question of what is good or +bad for their subjects, and the duty of the subjects is merely to +obey. I think that arguments of this kind only obscure men's +conscience. I cannot take part in the councils of government, and +therefore I am not responsible for its misdeeds.. Indeed, but we +are responsible for our own misdeeds. And the misdeeds of our +rulers become our own, if we, knowing that they are misdeeds, +assist in carrying, them out. Those who suppose that they are +bound to obey the government, and that the responsibility for the +misdeeds they commit is transferred from them to their rulers, +deceive themselves. They say: "We give our acts up to the will +of others, and our acts cannot be good or bad; there is no merit +in what is good nor responsibility for what is evil in our +actions, since they are not done of our own will." + +It is remarkable that the very same thing is said in the +instructions to soldiers which they make them learn--that is, that +the officer is alone responsible for the consequences of his +command. But this is not right. A man cannot get rid of the +responsibility, for his own actions. And that is clear from the +following example. If your officer commands you to kill your +neighbor's child, to kill your father or your mother, would you +obey? If you would not obey, the whole argument falls to the +ground, for if you can disobey the governors in one case, where do +you draw the line up to which you can obey them? There is no line +other than that laid down by Christianity, and that line is both +reasonable and practicable. + +And therefore we consider it the duty of every man who thinks war +inconsistent with Christianity, meekly but firmly to refuse to +serve in the army. And let those whose lot it is to act thus, +remember that the fulfillment of a great duty rests with them. +The destiny of humanity in the world depends, so far as it depends +on men at all, on their fidelity to their religion. Let them +confess their conviction, and stand up for it, and not in words +alone, but in sufferings too, if need be. If you believe that +Christ forbade murder, pay no heed to the arguments nor to the +commands of those who call on you to bear a hand in it. By such a +steadfast refusal to make use of force, you call down on +yourselves the blessing promised to those "who hear these sayings +and do them," and the time will come when the world will recognize +you as having aided in the reformation of mankind. + +Musser's book is called "Non-resistance Asserted," or "Kingdom of +Christ and Kingdoms of this World Separated." This book is +devoted to the same question, and was written when the American +Government was exacting military service from its citizens at the +time of the Civil War. And it has, too, a value for all time, +dealing with the question how, in such circumstances, people +should and can refuse to eater military service. Here is the tenor +of the author's introductory remarks: + + "It is well known that there are many persons in the United + States who refuse to fight on grounds of conscience. They are + called the 'defenseless,' or 'non-resistant' Christians. These + Christians refuse to defend their country, to bear arms, or at + the call of government to make war on its enemies. Till lately + this religious scruple seemed a valid excuse to the government, + and those who urged it were let off service. But at the + beginning of our Civil War public opinion was agitated on this + subject. It was natural that persons who considered it their + duty to bear all the hardships and dangers of war in defense of + their country should feel resentment against those persons who + had for long shared with them the advantages of the protection + of government, and who now in time of need and danger would not + share in bearing the labors and dangers of its defense. It was + even natural that they should declare the attitude of such men + monstrous, irrational, and suspicious." + +A host of orators and writers, our author tells us, arose to +oppose this attitude, and tried to prove the sinfulness of non- +resistance, both from Scripture and on common-sense grounds. And +this was perfectly natural, and in many cases the authors were +right--right, that is, in regard to persons who did not renounce +the benefits they received from the government and tried to avoid +the hardships of military service, but not right in regard to the +principle of non-resistance itself. Above all, our author proves +the binding nature of the rule of non-resistance for a Christian, +pointing out that this command is perfectly clear, and is enjoined +upon every Christian by Christ without possibility of +misinterpretation. "Bethink yourselves whether it is righteous to +obey man more than God," said Peter and John. And this is +precisely what ought to be the attitude to every man who wishes to +be Christian to the claim on him for military service, when Christ +has said, "Resist not evil by force." As for the question of the +principle itself, the author regards that as decided. As to the +second question, whether people have the right to refuse to serve +in the army who have not refused the benefits conferred by a +government resting on force, the author considers it in detail, +and arrives at the conclusion that a Christian following the law +of Christ, since he does not go to war, ought not either to take +advantage of any institutions of government, courts of law, or +elections, and that in his private concerns he must not have +recourse to the authorities, the police, or the law. Further on +in the book he treats of the relation of the Old Testament to the +New, the value of government for those who are Christians, and +makes some observations on the doctrine of non-resistance and the +attacks made on it. The author concludes his book by saying: +"Christians do not need government, and therefore they cannot +either obey it in what is contrary to Christ's teaching nor, still +less, take part in it." Christ took his disciples out of the +world, he says. They do not expect worldly blessings and worldly +happiness, but they expect eternal life. The Spirit in whom they +live makes them contented and happy in every position. If the +world tolerates them, they are always happy. If the world will +not leave them in peace, they will go elsewhere, since they are +pilgrims on the earth and they have no fixed place of habitation. +They believe that "the dead may bury their dead." One thing only +is needful for them, "to follow their Master." + +Even putting aside the question as to the principle laid down in +these two books as to the Christian's duty in his attitude to war, +one cannot help perceiving the practical importance and the urgent +need of deciding the question. + +There are people, hundreds of thousands of Quakers, Mennonites, +all our Douhobortsi, Molokani, and others who do not belong to any +definite sect, who consider that the use of force--and, +consequently, military service--is inconsistent with Christianity. +Consequently there are every year among us in Russia some men +called upon for military service who refuse to serve on the ground +of their religious convictions. Does the government let them off +then? No. Does it compel them to go, and in case of disobedience +punish them? No. This was how the government treated them in +1818. Here is an extract from the diary of Nicholas Myravyov of +Kars, which was not passed by the censor, and is not known in +Russia: + + "Tiflis, October 2, 1818. + + "In the morning the commandant told me that five peasants + belonging to a landowner in the Tamboff government had lately + been sent to Georgia. These men had been sent for soldiers, + but they would not serve; they had been several times flogged + and made to run the gauntlet, but they would submit readily to + the cruelest tortures, and even to death, rather than serve. + 'Let us go,' they said, 'and leave us alone; we will not hurt + anyone; all men are equal, and the Tzar is a man like us; why + should we pay him tribute; why should I expose my life to + danger to kill in battle some man who has done me no harm? You + can cut us to pieces and we will not be soldiers. He who has + compassion on us will give us charity, but as for the + government rations, we have not had them and we do not want to + have them' These were the words of those peasants, who declare + that there are numbers like them Russia. They brought them + four times before the Committee of Ministers, and at last + decided to lay the matter before the Tzar who gave orders that + they should be taken to Georgia for correction, and commanded + the commander-in-chief to send him a report every month of + their gradual success in bringing these peasants to a better + mind." + +How the correction ended is not known, as the whole episode indeed +was unknown, having been kept in profound secrecy. + +This was how the government behaved seventy-five years ago--this +is how it has behaved in a great cumber of cases, studiously +concealed from the people. And this is how the government behaves +now, except in the case of the German Mennonites, living in the +province of Kherson, whose plea against military service is +considered well grounded. They are made to work off their term of +service in labor in the forests. + +But in the recent cases of refusal on the part of Mennonites to +serve in the army on religious grounds, the government authorities +have acted in the following manner: + +To begin with, they have recourse to every means of coercion used +in our times to "correct" the culprit and bring him to "a better +mind," and these measures are carried out with the greatest +secrecy. I know that in the case of one man who declined to serve +in 1884 in Moscow, the official correspondence on the subject had +two months after his refusal accumulated into a big folio, and was +kept absolutely secret among the Ministry. + +They usually begin by sending the culprit to the priests, and the +latter, to their shame be it said, always exhort him to obedience. +But since the exhortation in Christ's name to forswear Christ is +for the most part unsuccessful, after he has received the +admonitions of the spiritual authorities, they send him to the +gendarmes, and the latter, finding, as a rule, no political cause +for offense in him, dispatch him back again, and then he is sent +to the learned men, to the doctors, and to the madhouse. During +all these vicissitudes he is deprived of liberty and has to endure +every kind of humiliation and suffering as a convicted criminal. +(All this has been repeated in four cases.) The doctors let him +out of the madhouse, and then every kind of secret shift is +employed to prevent him from going free--whereby others would be +encouraged to refuse to serve as he has done--and at the same time +to avoid leaving him among the soldiers, for fear they too should +learn from him that military service is not at all their duty by +the law of God, as they are assured, but quite contrary to it. + +The most convenient thing for the government would be to kill the +non-resistant by flogging him to death or some other means, as was +done in former days. But to put a man openly to death because he +believes in the creed we all confess is impossible. To let a man +alone who has refused obedience is also impossible. And so the +government tries either to compel the man by ill-treatment to +renounce Christ, or in some way or other to get rid of him +unobserved, without openly putting him to death, and to hide +somehow both the action and the man himself from other people. +And so all kinds of shifts and wiles and cruelties are set on foot +against him. They either send him to the frontier or provoke him +to insubordination, and then try him for breach of discipline and +shut him up in the prison of the disciplinary battalion, where +they can ill treat him freely unseen by anyone, or they declare +him mad, and lock him up in a lunatic asylum. They sent one man +in this way to Tashkend--that is, they pretended to transfer to +the Tashkend army; another to Omsk; a third him they convicted of +insubordination and shut up in prison; a fourth they sent to a +lunatic asylum. + +Everywhere the same story is repeated. Not only the government, +but the great majority of liberal, advanced people, as they are +called, studiously turn away from everything that has been said, +written, or done, or is being done by men to prove the +incompatibility of force in its most awful, gross, and glaring +form--in the form, that is, of an army of soldiers prepared to +murder anyone, whoever it may be--with the teachings of +Christianity, or even of the humanity which society professes as +its creed. + +So that the information I have gained of the attitude of the +higher ruling classes, not only in Russia but in Europe and +America, toward the elucidation of this question has convinced me +that there exists in these ruling classes a consciously hostile +attitude to true Christianity, which is shown pre-eminently in +their reticence in regard to all manifestations of it. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +CRITICISMS OF THE DOCTRINE OF NON-RESISTANCE TO EVIL BY FORCE ON +THE PART OF BELIEVERS AND OF UNBELIEVERS. + +Fate of the Book "What I Believe"--Evasive Character of Religious +Criticisms of Principles of my Book--1st Reply: Use of Force +not Opposed to Christianity--2d Reply: Use of Force Necessary +to Restrain Evil Doers--3d Reply: Duty of Using Force in +Defense of One's Neighbor--4th Reply: The Breach of the Command +of Nonresistance to be Regarded Simply as a Weakness--5th +Reply: Reply Evaded by Making Believe that the Question has +long been Decided--To Devise such Subterfuges and to take +Refuge Behind the Authority of the Church, of Antiquity, and of +Religion is all that Ecclesiastical Critics can do to get out +of the Contradiction between Use of Force and Christianity in +Theory and in Practice--General Attitude of the Ecclesiastical +World and of the Authorities to Profession of True +Christianity--General Character of Russian Freethinking +Critics--Foreign Freethinking Critics--Mistaken Arguments of +these Critics the Result of Misunderstanding the True Meaning +of Christ's Teaching. + + +The impression I gained of a desire to conceal, to hush up, what I +had tried to express in my book, led me to judge the book itself +afresh. + +On its appearance it had, as I had anticipated, been forbidden, +and ought therefore by law to have been burnt. But, at the same +time, it was discussed among officials, and circulated in a great +number of manuscript and lithograph copies, and in translations +printed abroad. + +And very quickly after the book, criticisms, both religious and +secular in character, made their appearance, and these the +government tolerated, and even encouraged. So that the refutation +of a book which no one was supposed to know anything about was +even chosen as the subject for theological dissertations in the +academies. + +The criticisms of my book, Russian and foreign alike, fall under +two general divisions--the religious criticisms of men who regard +themselves as believers, and secular criticisms, that is, those of +freethinkers. + +I will begin with the first class. In my book I made it an +accusation against the teachers of the Church that their teaching +is opposed to Christ's commands clearly and definitely expressed +in the Sermon on the Mount, and opposed in especial to his command +in regard to resistance to evil, and that in this way they deprive +Christ's teaching of all value. The Church authorities accept the +teaching of the Sermon on the Mount on non-resistance to evil by +force as divine revelation; and therefore one would have thought +that if they felt called upon to write about my book at all, they +would have found it inevitable before everything else to reply to +the principal point of my charge against them, and to say plainly, +do they or do they not admit the teaching of the Sermon on the +Mount and the commandment of non-resistance to evil as binding on +a Christian. And they were bound to answer this question, not +after the usual fashion (i. e., "that although on the one side one +cannot absolutely deny, yet on the other side one cannot main +fully assent, all the more seeing that," etc., etc.). No; they +should have answered the question as plainly as it was put +in my book--Did Christ really demand from his disciples +that they should carry out what he taught them in the Sermon on +the Mount? And can a Christian, then, or can he not, always +remaining a Christian, go to law or make any use of the law, or +seek his own protection in the law? And can the Christian, or can +he not, remaining a Christian, take part in the administration of +government, using compulsion against his neighbors? And--the most +important question hanging over the heads of all of us in these +days of universal military service--can the Christian, or can he +not, remaining a Christian, against Christ's direct prohibition, +promise obedience in future actions directly opposed to his +teaching? And can he, by taking his share of service in the army, +prepare himself to murder men, and even actually murder them? + +These questions were put plainly and directly, and seemed to +require a plain and direct answer; but in all the criticisms of my +book there was no such plain and direct answer. No; my book +received precisely the same treatment as all the attacks upon the +teachers of the Church for their defection from the Law of Christ +of which history from the days of Constantine is full. + +A very great deal was said in connection with my book of my having +incorrectly interpreted this and other passages of the Gospel, of +my being in error in not recognizing the Trinity, the redemption, +and the immortality of the soul. A very great deal was said, but +not a word about the one thing which for every Christian is the +most essential question in life--how to reconcile the duty of +forgiveness, meekness, patience, and love for all, neighbors and +enemies alike, which is so clearly expressed in the words of our +teacher, and in the heart of each of us--how to reconcile this +duty with the obligation of using force in war upon men of our own +or a foreign people. + +All that are worth calling answers to this question can be brought +under the following five heads. I have tried to bring together in +this connection all I could, not only from the criticisms on my +book, but from what has been written in past times on this theme. + +The first and crudest form of reply consists in the bold assertion +that the use of force is not opposed by the teaching of Christ; +that it is permitted, and even enjoined, on the Christian by the +Old and New Testaments. + +Assertions of this kind proceed, for the most part, from men who +have attained the highest ranks in the governing or ecclesiastical +hierarchy, and who are consequently perfectly assured that no one +will dare to contradict their assertion, and that if anyone does +contradict it they will hear nothing of the contradiction. These +men have, for the most part, through the intoxication of power, so +lost the right idea of what that Christianity is in the name of +which they hold their position that what is Christian in +Christianity presents itself to them as heresy, while everything +in the Old and New Testaments which can be distorted into an +antichristian and heathen meaning they regard as the foundation of +Christianity. In support of their assertion that Christianity is +not opposed to the use of force, these men usually, with the +greatest audacity, bring together all the most obscure passages +from the Old and New Testaments, interpreting them in the most +unchristian way--the punishment of Ananias and Sapphira, of Simon +the Sorcerer, etc. They quote all those sayings of Christ's which +can possibly be interpreted as justification of cruelty: the +expulsion from the Temple; "It shall be more tolerable for the +land of Sodom than for this city," etc., etc. According to these +people's notions, a Christian government is not in the least bound +to be guided by the spirit of peace, forgiveness of injuries, and +love for enemies. + +To refute such an assertion is useless, because the very +people who make this assertion refute themselves, or, rather, +renounce Christ, inventing a Christianity and a Christ of their +own in the place of him in whose name the Church itself exists, as +well as their office in it. If all men were to learn that the +Church professes to believe in a Christ of punishment and warfare, +not of forgiveness, no one would believe in the Church and it +could not prove to anyone what it is trying to prove. + +The second, somewhat less gross, form of argument consists in +declaring that, though Christ did indeed preach that we should +turn the left cheek, and give the cloak also, and this is the +highest moral duty, yet that there are wicked men in the world, +and if these wicked men mere not restrained by force, the whole +world and all good men would come to ruin through them. This +argument I found for the first time in John Chrysostom, and I slow +how he is mistaken in my book "What I believe." + +This argument is ill grounded, because if we allow ourselves to +regard any men as intrinsically wicked men, then in the first +place we annul, by so doing, the whole idea of the Christian +teaching, according to which we are all equals and brothers, as +sons of one father in heaven. Secondly, it is ill founded, +because even if to use force against wicked men had been permitted +by God, since it is impossible to find a perfect and unfailing +distinction by which one could positively know the wicked from the +good, so it would come to all individual men and societies of men +mutually regarding each other as wicked men, as is the case now. +Thirdly, even if it were possible to distinguish the wicked from +the good unfailingly, even then it would be impossible to kill or +injure or shut up in prison these wicked men, because there would +be no one in a Christian society to carry out such punishment, +since every Christian, as a Christian, has been commanded to use +no force against the wicked. + +The third kind of answer, still more subtle than the preceding, +consists in asserting that though the command of non-resistance to +evil by force is binding on the Christian when the evil is +directed against himself personally, it ceases to be binding when +the evil is directed against his neighbors, and that then the +Christian is not only not bound to fulfill the commandment, but is +even bound to act in opposition to it in defense of his neighbors, +and to use force against transgressors by force. This assertion +is an absolute assumption, and one cannot find in all Christ's +teaching any confirmation of such an argument. Such an argument +is not only a limitation, but a direct contradiction and negation +of the commandment. If every man has the right to have recourse +to force in face of a danger threatening an other, the question of +the use of force is reduced to a question of the definition of +danger for another. If my private judgment is to decide the +question of what is danger for another, there is no occasion for +the use of force which could not be justified on the ground of +danger threatening some other man. They killed and burnt witches, +they killed aristocrats and girondists, they killed their enemies +because those who were in authority regarded them as dangerous for +the people. + +If this important limitation, which fundamentally undermines the +whole value of the commandment, had entered into Christ's meaning, +there must have been mention of it somewhere. This restriction is +made nowhere in our Saviour's life or preaching. On the contrary, +warning is given precisely against this treacherous and scandalous +restriction which nullifies the commandment. The error and +impossibility of such a limitation is shown in the Gospel with +special clearness in the account of the judgment of Caiaphas, who +makes precisely this distinction. He acknowledged that it was +wrong to punish the innocent Jesus, but he saw in him a source of +danger not for himself, but for the whole people, and therefore he +said: It is better for one man to die, that the whole people +perish not. And the erroneousness of such a limitation is still +more clearly expressed in the words spoken to Peter when he tried +to resist by force evil directed against Jesus (Matt. xxvi. 52). +Peter was not defending himself, but his beloved and heavenly +Master. And Christ at once reproved him for this, saying, that he +who takes up the sword shall perish by the sword. + +Besides, apologies for violence used against one's neighbor in +defense of another neighbor from greater violence are always +untrustworthy, because when force is used against one who has not +yet carried out his evil intent, I can never know which would be +greater--the evil of my act of violence or of the act I want to +prevent. We kill the criminal that society may be rid of him, and +we never know whether the criminal of to-day would not have been a +changed man tomorrow, and whether our punishment of him is not +useless cruelty. We shut up the dangerous--as we think--member of +society, but the next day this man might cease to be dangerous and +his imprisonment might be for nothing. I see that a man I know to +be a ruffian is pursuing a young girl. I have a gun in my hand--I +kill the ruffian and save the girl. But the death or the wounding +of the ruffian has positively taken place, while what would have +happened if this had not been I cannot know. And what an immense +mass of evil must result, and indeed does result, from allowing +men to assume the right of anticipating what may happen. Ninety- +nine per cent of the evil of the world is founded on this +reasoning--from the Inquisition to dynamite bombs, and the +executions or punishments of tens of thousands of political +criminals. + +A fourth, still more refined, reply to the question, What ought to +be the Christian's attitude to Christ's command of non-resistance +to evil by force? consists in declaring that they do not deny the +command of non-resisting evil, but recognize it; but they only do +not ascribe to this command the special exclusive value attached +to it by sectarians. To regard this command as the indispensable +condition of Christian life, as Garrison, Ballou, Dymond, the +Quakers, the Mennonites and the Shakers do now, and as the +Moravian brothers, the Waldenses, the Albigenses, the Bogomilites, +and the Paulicians did in the past, is a one-sided heresy. This +command has neither more nor less value than all the other +commands, and the man who through weakness transgresses any +command whatever, the command of non-resistance included, does not +cease to be a Christian if he hold the true faith. This is a very +skillful device, and many people who wish to be deceived are +easily deceived by it. The device consists in reducing a direct +conscious denial of a command to a casual breach of it. But one +need only compare the attitude of the teachers of the Church to +this and to other commands which they really do recognize, to be +convinced that their attitude to this is completely different from +their attitude to other duties. + +The command against fornication they do really recognize, and +consequently they do not admit that in any case fornication can +cease to be wrong. The Church preachers never point out cases in +which the command against fornication can be broken, and always +teach that we must avoid seductions which lead to temptation to +fornication. But not so with the command of non-resistance. All +church preachers recognize cases in which that command can be +broken, and teach the people accordingly. And they not only do +not teach teat we should avoid temptations to break it, chief of +which is the military oath, but they themselves administer it. +The preachers of the Church never in any other case advocate the +breaking of any other commandment. But in connection with the +commandment of non-resistance they openly teach that we must not +understand it too literally, but that there are conditions and +circumstances in which we must do the direct opposite, that is, go +to law, fight, punish. So that occasions for fulfilling the +commandment of nonresistance to evil by force are taught for the +most part as occasions for not fulfilling it. The fulfillment of +this command, they say, is very difficult and pertains only to +perfection. And how can it not be difficult, when the breach of +it is not only not forbidden, but law courts, prisons, cannons, +guns, armies, and wars are under the immediate sanction of the +Church? It cannot be true, then, that this command is recognized +by the preachers of the Church as on a level with other commands. + +The preachers of the Church clearly, do not recognize it; only not +daring to acknowledge this, they try to conceal their not +recognizing it. + +So much for the fourth reply. + +The fifth kind of answer, which is the subtlest, the most often +used, and the most effective, consists in avoiding answering, in +making believe that this question is one which has long ago been +decided perfectly clearly and satisfactorily, and that it is not +worth while to talk about it. This method of reply is employed by +all the more or less cultivated religious writers, that is to say, +those who feel the laws of Christ binding for themselves. Knowing +that the contradiction existing between the teaching of Christ +which we profess with our lips and the whole order of our lives +cannot be removed by words, and that touching upon it can only +make it more obvious, they, with more or less ingenuity, evade it, +pretending that the question of reconciling Christianity with the +use of force has been decided already, or does not exist at all. + + [Footnote: I only know one work which differs somewhat from + this general definition, and that is not a criticism in the + precise meaning of the word, but an article treating of the + same subject and having my book in view. I mean the pamphlet + of Mr. Troizky (published at Kazan), "A Sermon for the + People." The author obviously accepts Christ's teaching in + its true meaning. He says that the prohibition of resistance + to evil by force means exactly what it does mean; and the same + with the prohibition of swearing. He does not, as others do, + deny the meaning of Christ's teaching, but unfortunately he + does not draw from this admission the inevitable deductions + which present themselves spontaneously in our life when we + understand Christ's teaching in that way. If we must not + oppose evil by force, nor swear, everyone naturally asks, + "How, then, about military service? and the oath of + obedience?" To this question the author gives no reply; but + it must be answered. And if he cannot answer, then he would + do better no to speak on the subject at all, as such silence + leads to error. + +The majority of religious critics of my book use this fifth method +of replying to it. I could quote dozens of such critics, in all of +whom, without exception, we find the same thing repeated: +everything is discussed except what constitutes the principal +subject of the book. As a characteristic example of such +criticisms, I will quote the article of a well-known and ingenious +English writer and preacher--Farrar--who, like many learned +theologians, is a great master of the art of circuitously evading +a question. The article was published in an American journal, the +FORUM, in October, 1888. + +After conscientiously explaining in brief the contents of my book, +Farrar says: + + "Tolstoy came to the conclusion that a coarse deceit had been + palmed upon the world when these words 'Resist not evil,' were + held by civil society to be compatible with war, courts of + justice, capital punishment, divorce, oaths, national + prejudice, and, indeed, with most of the institutions of civil + and social life. He now believes that the kingdom of God would + come if all men kept these five commandments of Christ, viz.: + 1. Live in peace with all men. 2. Be pure. 3. Take no oaths. + 4. Resist not evil. 5. Renounce national distinctions. + + "Tolstoy," he says, "rejects the inspiration of the Old + Testament; hence he rejects the chief doctrines of the Church-- + that of the Atonement by blood, the Trinity, the descent of the + Holy Ghost on the Apostles, and his transmission through the + priesthood." And he recognizes only the words and commands of + Christ. "But is this interpretation of Christ a true one?" he + says. "Are all men bound to act as Tolstoy teaches--i. e., to + carry out these five commandments of Christ?" + +You expect, then, that in answer to this essential question, which +is the only one that could induce a man to write an article about +the book, he will say either that this interpretation of Christ's +teaching is true and we ought to follow it, or he will say that +such an interpretation is untrue, will show why, and will give +some other correct interpretation of those words which I interpret +incorrectly. But nothing of this kind is done. Farrar only +expresses his "belief" that, + + "although actuated by the noblest sincerity, Count Tolstoy has + been misled by partial and one-sided interpretations of the + meaning of the Gospel and the mind and will of Christ." What + this error consists in is not made clear; it is only said: + "To enter into the proof of this is impossible in this article, + for I have already exceeded the space at my command." + +And he concludes in a tranquil spirit: + + "Meanwhile, the reader who feels troubled lest it should be his + duty also to forsake all the conditions of his life and to take + up the position and work of a common laborer, may rest for the + present on the principle, SECURUS JUDICAT ORBIS TERRARUM. With + few and rare exceptions," he continues, "the whole of + Christendom, from the days of the Apostles down to our own, has + come to the firm conclusion that it was the object of Christ to + lay down great eternal principles, but not to disturb the bases + and revolutionize the institutions of all human society, which + themselves rest on divine sanctions as well as on inevitable + conditions. Were it my object to prove how untenable is the + doctrine of communism, based by Count Tolstoy upon the divine + paradoxes [sic], which can be interpreted only on historical + principles in accordance with the whole method of the teaching + of Jesus, it would require an ampler canvas than I have here at + my disposal." + +What a pity he has not an "ampler canvas at his disposal"! And +what a strange thing it is that for all these last fifteen +centuries no one has had a "canvas ample enough" to prove that +Christ, whom we profess to believe in, says something utterly +unlike what he does say! Still, they could prove it if they +wanted to. But it is not worth while to prove what everyone +knows; it is enough to say "SECURUS JUDICAT ORBIS TERRARUM." + +And of this kind, without exception, are all the criticisms +of educated believers, who must, as such, understand the +danger of their position. The sole escape from it for them +lies in their hope that they may be able, by using the +authority of the Church, of antiquity, and of their sacred +office, to overawe the reader and draw him away from the +idea of reading the Gospel for himself and thinking out the +question in his own mind for himself. And in this they are +successful; for, indeed, how could the notion occur to any +one that all that has been repeated from century to century +with such earnestness and solemnity by all those archdeacons, +bishops, archbishops, holy synods, and popes, is all of it a base +lie and a calumny foisted upon Christ by them for the sake of +keeping safe the money they must have to live luxuriously on the +necks of other men? And it is a lie and a calumny so transparent +that the only way of keeping it up consists in overawing people by +their earnestness, their conscientiousness. It is just what has +taken place of late years at recruiting sessions; at a table +before the zertzal--the symbol of the Tzars authority--in the seat +of honor under the life-size portrait of the Tzar, sit dignified +old officials, wearing decorations, conversing freely and easily, +writing notes, summoning men before them, and giving orders. +Here, wearing a cross on his breast, near them, is prosperous- +looking old Priest in a silken cassock, with long gray hair +flowing on to his cope; before a lectern who wears the golden +cross and has a Gospel bound in gold. + +They summon Iran Petroff. A young man comes in, wretchedly, +shabbily dressed, and in terror, the muscles of his face working, +his eyes bright and restless; and in a broken voice, hardly above +a whisper, he says: "I--by Christ's law--as a Christian--I +cannot." "What is he muttering?" asks the president, frowning +impatiently and raising his eyes from his book to listen. "Speak +louder," the colonel with shining epaulets shouts to him. "I--I as +a Christian--" And at last it appears that the young man refuses +to serve in the army because he is a Christian. "Don't talk +nonsense. Stand to be measured. Doctor, may I trouble you to +measure him. He is all right?" "Yes." "Reverend father, +administer the oath to him." + +No one is the least disturbed by what the poor scared young man is +muttering. They do not even pay attention to it. "They all mutter +something, but we've no time to listen to it, we have to enroll so +many." + +The recruit tries to say something still. "It's opposed to the +law of Christ." "Go along, go along; we know without your help +what is opposed to the law and what's not; and you soothe his +mind, reverend father, soothe him. Next: Vassily Nikitin." And +they lead the trembling youth away. And it does not strike anyone +--the guards, or Vassily Nikitin, whom they are bringing in, or +any of the spectators of this scene--that these inarticulate words +of the young man, at once suppressed by the authorities, contain +the truth, and that the loud, solemnly uttered sentences of the +calm, self-confident official and the priest are a lie and a +deception. + +Such is the impression produced not only by Farrar's article, but +by all those solemn sermons, articles, and books which make their +appearance from all sides directly there is anywhere a glimpse of +truth exposing a predominant falsehood. At once begins the series +of long, clever, ingenious, and solemn speeches and writings, +which deal with questions nearly related to the subject, but +skillfully avoid touching the subject itself. + +That is the essence of the fifth and most effective means of +getting out of the contradictions in which Church Christianity has +placed itself, by professing its faith in Christ's teaching in +words, while it denies it in its life, and teaches +people to do the same. + +Those who justify themselves by the first method, directly, +crudely asserting that Christ sanctioned violence, wars, and +murder, repudiate Christ's doctrine directly; those who find their +defense in the second, the third, or the fourth method are +confused and can easily be convicted of error; but this last +class, who do not argue, who do not condescend to argue about it, +but take shelter behind their own grandeur, and make a show of all +this having been decided by them or at least by someone long ago, +and no longer offering a possibility of doubt to anyone--they seem +safe from attack, and will be beyond attack till men come to +realize that they are under the narcotic influence exerted on them +by governments and churches, and are no longer affected by it. + +Such was the attitude of the spiritual critics--i. e., those +professing faith in Christ--to my book. And their attitude could +not have been different. They are bound to take up this attitude +by the contradictory position in which they find themselves +between belief in the divinity of their Master and disbelief in +his clearest utterances, and they want to escape from this +contradiction. So that one cannot expect from them free +discussion of the very essence of the question--that is, of the +change in men's life which must result from applying Christ's +teaching to the existing order of the world. Such free discussion +I only expected from worldly, freethinking critics who are not +bound to Christ's teaching in any way, and can therefore take an +independent view of it. I had anticipated that freethinking +writers would look at Christ, not merely, like the Churchmen, as +the founder of a religion of personal salvation, but, to express +it in their language, as a reformer who laid down new principles +of life and destroyed the old, and whose reforms are not yet +complete, but are still in progress even now. + +Such a view of Christ and his teaching follows from my book. But +to my astonishment, out of the great number of critics of my book +there was not one, either Russian or foreign, who treated the +subject from the side from which it was approached in the book-- +that is, who criticised Christ's doctrines as philosophical, +moral, and social principles, to use their scientific expressions. +This was not done in a single criticism. The freethinking Russian +critics taking my book as though its whole contents could be +reduced to non-resistance to evil, and understanding the doctrine +of non-resistance to evil itself (no doubt for greater convenience +in refuting it) as though it would prohibit every kind of conflict +with evil, fell vehemently upon this doctrine, and for some years +past have been very successfully proving that Christ's teaching is +mistaken in so far as it forbids resistance to evil. Their +refutations of this hypothetical doctrine of Christ were all the +more successful since they knew beforehand that their arguments +could not be contested or corrected, for the censorship, not +having passed the book, did not pass articles in its defense. + +It is a remarkable thing that among us, where one cannot say a +word about the Holy Scriptures without the prohibition of the +censorship, for some years past there have been in all the +journals constant attacks and criticisms on the command of Christ +simply and directly stated in Matt. v. 39. The Russian advanced +critics, obviously unaware of all that has been done to elucidate +the question of non-resistance, and sometimes even imagining +apparently that the rule of non-resistance to evil had been +invented by me personally, fell foul of the very idea of it. They +opposed it and attacked it, and advancing with great heat +arguments which had long ago been analyzed and refuted from every +point of view, they demonstrated that a man ought invariably to +defend (with violence) all the injured and oppressed, and that +thus the doctrine of non-resistance to evil is an immoral +doctrine. + +To all Russian critics the whole import of Christ's command seemed +reducible to the fact that it would hinder them from the active +opposition to evil to which they are accustomed. So that the +principle of non-resistance to evil by force has been attacked by +two opposing camps: the conservatives, because this principle +would hinder their activity in resistance to evil as applied to +the revolutionists, in persecution and punishment of them; the +revolutionists, too, because this principle would hinder their +resistance to evil as applied to the conservatives and the +overthrowing of them. The conservatives were indignant at the +doctrine of non-resistance to evil by force hindering the +energetic destruction of the revolutionary elements, which may +ruin the national prosperity; the revolutionists were indignant at +the doctrine of non-resistance to evil by force hindering the +overthrow of the conservatives, who are ruining the national +prosperity. It is worthy of remark in this connection that the +revolutionists have attacked the principle of nonresistance to +evil by force, in spite of the fact that it is the greatest terror +and danger for every despotism. For ever since the beginning of +the world, the use of violence of every kind, from the Inquisition +to the Schlusselburg fortress, has rested and still rests on the +opposite principle of the necessity of resisting evil by force. + +Besides this, the Russian critics have pointed out the fact that +the application of the command of non-resistance to practical life +would turn mankind aside out of the path of civilization along +which it is moving. The path of civilization on which mankind in +Europe is moving is in their opinion the one along which all +mankind ought always to move. + +So much for the general character of the Russian critics. + +Foreign critics started from the same premises, but their +discussions of my book were somewhat different from those of +Russian critics, not only in being less bitter, and in showing +more culture, but even in the subject-matter. + +In discussing my book and the Gospel teaching generally, as it is +expressed in the Sermon on the Mount, the foreign critics +maintained that such doctrine is not peculiarly Christian +(Christian doctrine is either Catholicism or Protestantism +according to their views)--the teaching of the Sermon on the Mount +is only a string of very pretty impracticable dreams DU CHARMANT +DOCTEUR, as Reran says, fit for the simple and half-savage +inhabitants of Galilee who lived eighteen hundred years ago, and +for the half-savage Russian peasants--Sutaev and Bondarev--and the +Russian mystic Tolstoy, but not at all consistent with a high +degree of European culture. + +The foreign freethinking critics have tried in a delicate manner, +without being offensive to me, to give the impression that my +conviction that mankind could be guided by such a naive doctrine +as that of the Sermon on the Mount proceeds from two causes: that +such a conviction is partly due to my want of knowledge, my +ignorance of history, my ignorance of all the vain attempts to +apply the principles of the Sermon on the Mount to life, which +have been made in history and have led to nothing; and partly it +is due to my failing to appreciate the full value of the lofty +civilization to which mankind has attained at present, with its +Krupp cannons, smokeless powder, colonization of Africa, Irish +Coercion Bill, parliamentary government, journalism, strikes, and +the Eiffel Tower. + +So wrote de Vogue and Leroy Beaulieu and Matthew Arnold; so wrote +the American author Savage, and Ingersoll, the popular +freethinking American preacher, and many others. + +"Christ's teaching is no use, because it is inconsistent with our +industrial age," says Ingersoll naively, expressing in this +utterance, with perfect directness and simplicity, the exact +notion of Christ's teaching held by persons of refinement and +culture of our times. The teaching is no use for our industrial +age, precisely as though the existence of this industrial age were +a sacred fact which ought not to and could not be changed. It is +just as though drunkards when advised how they could be brought to +habits of sobriety should answer that the advice is incompatible +with their habit of taking alcohol. + +The arguments of all the freethinking critics, Russian and foreign +alike, different as they may be in tone and manner of +presentation, all amount essentially to the same strange +misapprehension--namely, that Christ's teaching, one of the +consequences of which is non-resistance to evil, is of no use to +us because it requires a change of our life. + +Christ's teaching is useless because, if it were carried into +practice, life could not go on as at present; we must add: if we +have begun by living sinfully, as we do live and are accustomed to +live. Not only is the question of non-resistance to evil not +discussed; the very mention of the fact that the duty of non- +resistance enters into Christ's teaching is regarded as +satisfactory proof of the impracticability of the whole teaching. + +Meanwhile one would have thought it was necessary to point out at +least some kind of solution of the following question, since it is +at the root of almost everything that interests us. + +The question amounts to this: In what way are we to decide men's +disputes, when some men consider evil what others consider good, +and VICE VERSA? And to reply that that is evil which I think +evil, in spite of the fact that my opponent thinks it good, is not +a solution of the difficulty. There can only be two solutions: +either to find a real unquestionable criterion of what is evil or +not to resist evil by force. + +The first course has been tried ever since the beginning of +historical times, and, as we all know, it has not hitherto led to +any successful results. + +The second solution--not forcibly to resist what we consider evil +until we have found a universal criterion--that is the solution +given by Christ. + +We may consider the answer given by Christ unsatisfactory; we may +replace it by another and better, by finding a criterion by which +evil could be defined for all men unanimously and simultaneously; +we may simply, like savage nations, not recognize the existence of +the question. But we cannot treat the question as the learned +critics of Christianity do. They pretend either that no such +question exists at all or that the question is solved by granting +to certain persons or assemblies of persons the right to define +evil and to resist it by force. But we know all the while that +granting such a right to certain persons does not decide the +question (still less so when the are ourselves the certain +persons), since there are always people who do not recognize this +right in the authorized persons or assemblies. + +But this assumption, that what seems evil to us is really evil, +shows a complete misunderstanding of the question, and lies at the +root of the argument of freethinking critics about the Christian +religion. In this way, then, the discussions of my book on the +part of Churchmen and freethinking critics alike showed me that +the majority of men simply do not understand either Christ's +teaching or the questions which Christ's teaching solves. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +CHRISTIANITY MISUNDERSTOOD BY BELIEVERS. + +Meaning of Christian Doctrine, Understood by a Minority, has +Become Completely Incomprehensible for the Majority of Men-- +Reason of this to be Found in Misinterpretation of Christianity +and Mistaken Conviction of Believers and Unbelievers Alike that +they Understand it--The Meaning of Christianity Obscured for +Believers by the Church--The First Appearance of Christ's +Teaching--Its Essence and Difference from Heathen Religions-- +Christianity not Fully Comprehended at the Beginning, Became +More and More Clear to those who Accepted it from its +Correspondence with Truth--Simultaneously with this Arose the +Claim to Possession of the Authentic Meaning of the Doctrine +Based on the Miraculous Nature of its Transmission--Assembly of +Disciples as Described in the Acts--The Authoritative Claim to +the Sole Possession of the True Meaning of Christ's Teaching +Supported by Miraculous Evidence has Led by Logical Development +to the Creeds of the Churches--A Church Could Not be Founded by +Christ--Definitions of a Church According to the Catechisms-- +The Churches have Always been Several in Number and Hostile to +One Another--What is Heresy--The Work of G. Arnold on Heresies-- +Heresies the Manifestations of Progress in the Churches-- +Churches Cause Dissension among Men, and are Always Hostile to +Christianity--Account of the Work Done by the Russian Church-- +Matt. xxiii. 23--The Sermon on the Mount or the Creed--The +Orthodox Church Conceals from the People the True Meaning of +Christianity--The Same Thing is Done by the Other Churches--All +the External Conditions of Modern Life are such as to Destroy +the Doctrine of the Church, and therefore the Churches use +Every Effort to Support their Doctrines. + + +Thus the information I received, after my book came out, went to +show that the Christian doctrine, in its direct and simple sense, +was understood, and had always been understood, by a minority of +men, while the critics, ecclesiastical and freethinking alike, +denied the possibility of taking Christ's teaching in its direct +sense. All this convinced me that while on one hand the true +understanding of this doctrine had never been lost to a minority, +but had been established more and more clearly, on the other hand +the meaning of it had been more and more obscured for the +majority. So that at last such a depth of obscurity has been +reached that men do not take in their direct sense even the +simplest precepts, expressed in the simplest words, in the Gospel. + +Christ's teaching is not generally understood in its true, simple, +and direct sense even in these days, when the light of the Gospel +has penetrated even to the darkest recesses of human +consciousness; when, in the words of Christ, that which was spoken +in the ear is proclaimed from the housetops; and when the Gospel +is influencing every side of human life--domestic, economic, +civic, legislative, and international. This lack of true +understanding of Christ's words at such a time would be +inexplicable, if there were not causes to account for it. + +One of these causes is the fact that believers and unbelievers +alike are firmly persuaded that they have understood Christ's +teaching a long time, and that they understand it so fully, +indubitably, and conclusively that it can have no other +significance than the one they attribute to it. And the reason of +this conviction is that the false interpretation and consequent +misapprehension of the Gospel is an error of such long standing. +Even the strongest current of water cannot add a drop to a cup +which is already full. + +The most difficult subjects can be explained to the most slow- +witted man if he has not formed any idea of them already; but the +simplest thing cannot be made clear to the most intelligent man if +he is firmly persuaded that he knows already, without a shadow of +doubt, what is laid before him. + +The Christian doctrine is presented to the men of our world to-day +as a doctrine which everyone has known so long and accepted so +unhesitatingly in all its minutest details that it cannot be +understood in any other way than it is understood now. + +Christianity is understood now by all who profess the doctrines of +the Church as a supernatural miraculous revelation of everything +which is repeated in the Creed. By unbelievers it is regarded as +an illustration of man's craving for a belief in the supernatural, +which mankind has now outgrown, as an historical phenomenon which +has received full expression in Catholicism, Greek Orthodoxy, and +Protestantism, and has no longer any living significance for us. +The significance of the Gospel is hidden from believers by the +Church, from unbelievers by Science. + +I will speak first of the former. Eighteen hundred years ago +there appeared in the midst of the heathen Roman world a strange +new doctrine, unlike any of the old religions, and attributed to a +man, Christ. + +This new doctrine was in both form and content absolutely new to +the Jewish world in which it originated, and still more to the +Roman world in which it was preached and diffused. + +In the midst of the elaborate religious observances of Judaism, in +which, in the words of Isaiah, law was laid upon law, and in the +midst of the Roman legal system worked out to the highest point of +perfection, a new doctrine appeared, which denied not only every +deity, and all fear and worship of them, but even all human +institutions and all necessity for them. In place of all the +rules of the old religions, this doctrine sets up only a type of +inward perfection, truth, and love in the person of Christ, and-- +as a result of this inward perfection being attained by men--also +the outward perfection foretold by the Prophets--the kingdom of +God, when all men will cease to learn to make war, when all shall +be taught of God and united in love, and the lion will lie down +with the lamb. Instead of the threats of punishment which all the +old laws of religions and governments alike laid down for non- +fulfillment of their rules, instead of promises of rewards for +fulfillment of them, this doctrine called men to it only because +it was the truth. John vii. 17: "If any man will do His will, he +shad know of the doctrine whether it be of God." John viii. 46: +"If I say the truth, why do ye not believe me? But ye seek to +kill me, a man that hath told you the truth. Ye shall know the +truth, and the truth shall make you free. God is a spirit, and +they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth. +Keep my sayings, and ye shall know of my sayings whether they be +true." No proofs of this doctrine were offered except its truth, +the correspondence of the doctrine with the truth. The whole +teaching consisted in the recognition of truth and following it, +in a greater and greater attainment of truth, and a closer and +closer following of it in the acts of life. There are no acts in +this doctrine which could justify a man and make him saved. There +is only the image of truth to guide-him, for inward perfection in +the person of Christ, and for outward perfection in the +establishment of the kingdom of God. The fulfillment of this +teaching consists only in walking in the chosen way, in getting +nearer to inward perfection in the imitation of Christ, and +outward perfection in the establishment of the kingdom of God. +The greater or less blessedness of a man depends, according to +this doctrine, not on the degree of perfection to which he has +attained, but on the greater or less swiftness with which he +is pursuing it. + +The progress toward perfection of the publican of the publican +Zaccheus, of the woman that was a sinner, of the robber on the +cross, is a greater state of blessedness, according to this +doctrine, than the stationary righteousness of the Pharisee. The +lost sheep is dearer than ninety-nine that were not lost. The +prodigal son, the piece of money that was lost and found again, +are dearer, more precious to God than those which have not been +lost. + +Every condition, according to this doctrine, is only a particular +step in the attainment of inward and outward perfection, and +therefore has no significance of itself. Blessedness consists in +progress toward perfection; to stand still in any condition +whatever means the cessation of this blessedness. + +"Let not thy left hand know what they right hand doeth." "No man +having put his hand to the plow and looking back is fit for the +Kingdom of God." "Rejoice not that the spirits are subject to +you, but seek rather that your names be written in heaven." "Be +ye perfect even as your Father in heaven is perfect." "Seek ye +first the kingdom of heaven and its righteousness." + +The fulfillment of this precept is only to be found in +uninterrupted progress toward the attainment of ever higher truth, +toward establishing more and more firmly an ever greater love +within oneself, and establishing more and more widely the kingdom +of God outside oneself. + +It is obvious that, appearing as it did in the midst of the Jewish +and heathen world, such teaching could not be accepted by the +majority of men, who were living a life absolutely different from +what was required by it. It is obvious, too, that even for those +by whom it was accepted, it was so absolutely opposed to all their +old views that it could not be comprehensible in its full +significance. + +It has been only by a succession of misunderstandings, errors, +partial explanations, and the corrections and additions of +generations that the meaning of the Christian doctrine has grown +continually more and more clear to men. The Christian view of +life has exerted an influence on the Jewish and heathen, and the +heathen and Jewish view of life has, too, exerted an influence on +the Christian. And Christianity, as the living force, has gained +more and more upon the extinct Judaism and heathenism, and has +grown continually clearer and clearer, as it freed itself from the +admixture of falsehood which had overlaid it. Men went further +and further in the attainment of the meaning of Christianity, and +realized it more and more in life. + +The longer mankind lived, the clearer and clearer became the +meaning of Christianity, as must always be the case with every +theory of life. + +Succeeding generations corrected the errors of their predecessors, +and grew ever nearer and nearer to a comprehension of the true +meaning. It was thus from the very earliest times of +Christianity. And so, too, from the earliest times of +Christianity there were men who began to assert on their own +authority that the meaning they attribute to the doctrine is the +only true one, and as proof bring forward supernatural occurrences +in support of the correctness of their interpretation. + +This was the principal cause at first of the misunderstanding of +the doctrine, and afterward of the complete distortion of it. + +It was supposed that Christ's teaching was transmitted to men not +like every other truth, but in a special miraculous way. Thus the +truth of the teaching was not proved by its correspondence with +the needs of the mind and the whole nature of man, but by the +miraculous manner of its transmission, which was advanced as an +irrefutable proof of the truth of the interpretation put on it. +This hypothesis originated from misunderstanding of the teaching, +and its result was to make it impossible to understand it rightly. + +And this happened first in the earliest times, when the doctrine +was still not so fully understood and often interpreted wrongly, +as we see by the Gospels and the Acts. The less the doctrine was +understood, the more obscure it appeared and the more necessary +were external proofs of its truth. The proposition that we ought +not to do unto others as we would not they should do unto us, did +not need to be proved by miracles and needed no exercise of faith, +because this proposition is in itself convincing and in harmony +with man's mind and nature; but the proposition that Christ was +God had to be proved by miracles completely beyond our +comprehension. + +The more the understanding of Christ's teaching was obscured, the +more the miraculous was introduced into it; and the more the +miraculous was introduced into it, the more the doctrine was +strained from its meaning and the more obscure it became; and the +more it was strained from its meaning and the more obscure it +became, the more strongly its infallibility had to be asserted, +and the less comprehensible the doctrine became. + +One can see by the Gospels, the Acts, and the Epistles how from +the earliest times the non-comprehension of the doctrine called +forth the need for proofs through the miraculous and +incomprehensible. + +The first example in the book of Acts is the assembly which +gathered together in Jerusalem to decide the question which had +arisen, whether to baptize or not the uncircumcised and those who +had eaten of food sacrificed to idols. + +The very fact of this question being raised showed that +those who discussed it did not understand the teaching of Christ, +who rejected all outward observances--ablutions, purifications, +fasts, and sabbaths. It was plainly said, "Not that which goeth +into a man's mouth, but that which cometh out of a man's mouth, +defileth him," and therefore the question of baptizing the +uncircumcised could only have arisen among men who, though they +loved their Master and dimly felt the grandeur of his teaching, +still did not understand the teaching itself very clearly. And +this was the fact. + +Just in proportion to the failure of the members of the assembly +to understand the doctrine was their need of external confirmation +of their incomplete interpretation of it. And then to settle this +question, the very asking of which proved their misunderstanding +of the doctrine, there was uttered in this assembly, as is +described in the Acts, that strange phrase, which was for the +first time found necessary to give external confirmation to +certain assertions, and which has been productive of so much evil. + +That is, it was asserted that the correctness of what they had +decided was guaranteed by the miraculous participation of the Holy +Ghost, that is, of God, in their decision. But the assertion that +the Holy Ghost, that is, God, spoke through the Apostles, in its +turn wanted proof. And thus it was necessary, to confirm this, +that the Holy Ghost should descend at Pentecost in tongues of fire +upon those who made this assertion. (In the account of it, the +descent of the Holy Ghost precedes the assembly, but the book of +Acts was written much later than both events.) But the descent of +the Holy Ghost too had to be proved for those who had not seen the +tongues of fire (though it is not easy to understand why a tongue +of fire burning above a man's head should prove that what that man +is going to say will be infallibly the truth). And so arose the +necessity for still more miracles and changes, raisings of the +dead to life, and strikings of the living dead, and all those +marvels which have been a stumbling-block to men, of which the +Acts is full, and which, far from ever convincing one of the truth +of the Christian doctrine, can only repel men from it. The result +of such a means of confirming the truth was that the more these +confirmations of truth by tales of miracles were heaped up one +after another, the more the doctrine was distorted from its +original meaning, aid the more incomprehensible it became. + +Thus it was from the earliest times, and so it went on, constantly +increasing, till it reached in our day the logical climax of the +dogmas of transubstantiation and the infallibility of the Pope, or +of the bishops, or of Scripture, and of requiring a blind faith +rendered incomprehensible and utterly meaningless, not in God, but +in Christ, not in a doctrine, but in a person, as in Catholicism, +or in persons, as in Greek Orthodoxy, or in a book, as in +Protestantism. The more widely Christianity was diffused, and the +greater the number of people unprepared for it who were brought +under its sway, the less it was understood, the more absolutely +was its infallibility insisted on, and the less possible it became +to understand the true meaning of the doctrine. In the times of +Constantine the whole interpretation of the doctrine had been +already reduced to a RESUME--supported by the temporal authority-- +of the disputes that had taken place in the Council--to a creed +which reckoned off--I believe in so and so, and so and so, and so +and so to the end--to one holy, Apostolic Church, which means the +infallibility of those persons who call themselves the Church. So +that it all amounts to a man no longer believing in God nor +Christ, as they are revealed to him, but believing in what the +Church orders him to believe in. + +But the Church is holy; the Church was founded by Christ. God +could not leave men to interpret his teaching at random--therefore +he founded the Church. All those statements are so utterly untrue +and unfounded that one is ashamed to refute them. Nowhere nor in +anything, except in the assertion of the Church, can we find that +God or Christ founded anything like what Churchmen understand by +the Church. In the Gospels there is a warning against the Church, +as it is an external authority, a warning most clear and obvious +in the passage where it is said that Christ's followers should +"call no man master." But nowhere is anything said of the +foundation of what Churchmen call the Church. + +The word church is used twice in the Gospels--once in the sense of +an assembly of men to decide a dispute, the other time in +connection with the obscure utterance about a stone--Peter, and +the gates of hell. From these two passages in which the word +church is used, in the signification merely of an assembly, has +been deduced all that we now understand by the Church. + +But Christ could not have founded the Church, that is, what we now +understand by that word. For nothing like the idea of the Church +as we know it now, with its sacraments, miracles, and above all +its claim to infallibility, is to be found either in Christ's +words or in the ideas of the men of that time. + +The fact that men called what was formed afterward by the same +word as Christ used for something totally different, does not give +them the right to assert that Christ founded the one, true Church. + +Besides, if Christ had really founded such an institution as the +Church for the foundation of all his teaching and the whole faith, +he would certainly have described this institution clearly and +definitely, and would have given the only true Church, besides +tales of miracles, which are used to support every kind of +superstition, some tokens so unmistakable that no doubt of its +genuineness could ever have arisen. But nothing of the sort was +done by him. And there have been and still are different +institutions, each calling itself the true Church. + +The Catholic catechism says: "L'Eglise est la societe des fideles +etablie par notre Seigneur Jesus Christ, repandue sur toute la +terre et soumise a l'authorite des pasteurs legitimes, +principalement notre Saint Pere le Pape," [see Footnote] +understanding by the words "pasteurs legitimes" an association of +men having the Pope at its head, and consisting of certain +individuals bound together by a certain organization. + + [Footnote: "The Church is the society of the faithful, + established by our Lord Jesus Christ, spread over the + whole earth, and subject to the authority of its lawful + pastors, and chief of them our Holy Father the Pope." + +The Greek Orthodox catechism says: "The Church is a society +founded upon earth by Jesus Christ, which is united into one +whole, by one divine doctrine and by sacraments, under the rule +and guidance of a priesthood appointed by God," meaning by the +"priesthood appointed by God" the Greek Orthodox priesthood, +consisting of certain individuals who happen to be in such or such +positions. + +The Lutheran catechism says: "The Church is holy Christianity, or +the collection of all believers under Christ, their head, to whom +the Holy Ghost through the Gospels and sacraments promises, +communicates, and administers heavenly salvation," meaning that +the Catholic Church is lost in error, and that the true means of +salvation is in Lutheranism. + +For Catholics the Church of God coincides with the Roman +priesthood and the Pope. For the Greek Orthodox believer the +Church of God coincides with the establishment and priesthood of +Russia. [See Footnote] + + [Footnote: Homyakov's definition of the Church, which + was received with some favor among Russians, does not + improve matters, if we are to agree with Homyakov in + considering the Greek Orthodox Church as the one true + Church. Homyakov asserts that a church is a collection + of men (all without distinction of clergy and laymen) + united together by love, and that only to men united by + love is the truth revealed (let us love each other, that + in the unity of thought, etc.), and that such a church + is the church which, in the first place, recognizes the + Nicene Creed, and in the second place does not, after + the division of the churches, recognize the popes and + new dogmas. But with such a definition of the church, + there is still more difficulty in reconciling, as + Homyakov tries to do, the church united by love with + the church that recognizes the Nicene Creed and the + doctrine of Photius. So that Homyakov's assertion that + this church, united by love, and consequently holy, + is the same church as the Greek Orthodox priesthood + profess faith in, is even more arbitrary than the + assertions of the Catholics or the Orthodox. If we + admit the idea of a church in the sense Homyakov + gives to it--that is, a body of men bound together + by love and truth--then all that any man can predicate + in regard to this body, if such an one exists, is + its love and truth, but there can be no outer signs + by which one could reckon oneself or another as a + member of this holy body, nor by which one could put + anyone outside it; so that no institution having + an external existence can correspond to this idea. + +For Lutherans the Church of God coincides with a body of men who +recognize the authority of the Bible and Luther's catechism. + +Ordinarily, when speaking of the rise of Christianity, men +belonging to one of the existing churches use the word church in +the singular, as though there were and had been only one church. +But this is absolutely incorrect. The Church, as an institution +which asserted that it possessed infallible truth, did not make +its appearance singly; there were at least two churches directly +this claim was made. + +While believers were agreed among themselves and the body was one, +it had no need to declare itself as a church. It was only when +believers were split up into opposing parties, renouncing one +another, that it seemed necessary to each party to confirm their +own truth by ascribing to themselves infallibility. The +conception of one church only arose when there were two sides +divided and disputing, who each called the other side heresy, and +recognized their own side only as the infallible church. + +If we knew that there was a church which decided in the year 51 to +receive the uncircumcised, it is only so because there was another +church--of the Judaists--who decided to keep the uncircumcised +out. + +If there is a Catholic Church now which asserts its own +infallibility, that is only because there are churches--Greco- +Russian, Old Orthodox, and Lutheran--each asserting its own +infallibility and denying that of all other churches. So that the +one Church is only a fantastic imagination which has not the least +trace of reality about it. + +As a real historical fact there has existed, and still exist, +several bodies of men, each asserting that it is the one Church, +founded by Christ, and that all the others who call themselves +churches are only sects and heresies. + +The catechisms of the churches of the most world-wide influence-- +the Catholic, the Old Orthodox, and the Lutheran--openly assert +this. + +In the Catholic catechism it is said: "Quels sont ceux qui sont +hors de l'eglise? Les infideles, les heretiques, les +schismatiques." [Footnote: "Who are those who are outside the +Church? Infidels, heretics, and schismatics."] The so-called +Greek Orthodox are regarded as schismatics, the Lutherans as +heretics; so that according to the Catholic catechism the only +people in the Church are Catholics. + +In the so-called Orthodox catechism it is said: By the one +Christian Church is understood the Orthodox, which remains fully +in accord with the Universal Church. As for the Roman Church and +other sects (the Lutherans and the rest they do not even dignify +by the name of church), they cannot be included in the one true +Church, since they have themselves separated from it. + +According to this definition the Catholics and Lutherans are +outside the Church, and there are only Orthodox in the Church. + +The Lutheran catechism says: "Die wahre kirche wird darein +erkannt, dass in ihr das Wort Gottes lauter und rein ohne +Menschenzusatze gelehrt and die Sacramente treu nach Christi +Einsetzung gewahret werden." [Footnote: "The true Church will be +known by the Word of God being studied clear and unmixed with +man's additions and the sacraments being maintained faithful to +Christ's teaching." + +According to this definition all those who have added anything to +the teaching of Christ and the apostles, as the Catholic and Greek +churches have done, are outside the Church. And in the Church +there are only Protestants. + +The Catholics assert that the Holy Ghost has been transmitted +without a break in their priesthood. The Orthodox assert that the +same Holy Ghost has been transmitted without a break in their +priesthood. The Arians asserted that the Holy Ghost was +transmitted in their priesthood (they asserted this with just as +much right as the churches in authority now). The Protestants of +every kind--Lutherans, Reformed Church, Presbyterians, Methodists, +Swedenborgians, Mormons--assert that the Holy Ghost is only +present in their communities. If the Catholics assert that the +Holy Ghost, at the time of the division of the Church into Arian +and Greek, left the Church that fell away and remained in the one +true Church, with precisely the same right the Protestants of +every denomination can assert that at the time of the separation +of their Church from the Catholic the Holy Ghost left the Catholic +and passed into the Church they professed. And this is just what +they do. + +Every church traces its creed through an uninterrupted +transmission from Christ and the Apostles. And truly every +Christian creed that has been derived from Christ must have come +down to the present generation through a certain transmission. +But that does not prove that it alone of all that has been +transmuted, excluding all the rest, can be the sole truth, +admitting of no doubt. + +Every branch in a tree comes from the root in unbroken connection; +but the fact that each branch comes from the one root, does not +prove at all that each branch was the only one. It is precisely +the same with the Church. Every church presents exactly the same +proofs of the succession, and even the same miracles, in support +of its authenticity, as every other. So that there is but one +strict and exact definition of what is a church (not of something +fantastic which we would wish it to be, but of what it is and has +been in reality)--a church is a body of men who claim for +themselves that they are in complete and sole possession of the +truth. And these bodies, having in course of time, aided by the +support of the temporal authorities, developed into powerful +institutions, have been the principal obstacles to the diffusion +of a true comprehension of the teaching of Christ. + +It could not be otherwise. The chief peculiarity which +distinguished Christ's teaching from previous religions consisted +in the fact that those who accepted it strove ever more and more +to comprehend and realize its teaching. But the Church doctrine +asserted its own complete and final comprehension and realization +of it. + +Strange though it may seem to us who have been brought up in the +erroneous view of the Church as a Christian institution, and in +contempt for heresy, yet the fact is that only in what was called +heresy was there any true movement, that is, true Christianity, +and that it only ceased to be so when those heresies stopped short +in their movement and also petrified into the fixed forms of a +church. + +And, indeed what is a heresy? Read all the theological works one +after another. In all of them heresy is the subject which first +presents itself for definition; since every theological work deals +with the true doctrine of Christ as distinguished from the +erroneous doctrines which surround it, that is, heresies. Yet you +will not find anywhere anything like a definition of heresy. + +The treatment of this subject by the learned historian of +Christianity, E. de Pressense, in his "Histoire du Dogme" (Paris, +1869), under the heading "Ubi Christus, ibi Ecclesia," may serve +as an illustration of the complete absence of anything like a +definition of what is understood by the word heresy. Here is what +he says in his introduction (p. 3): + + "Je sais que l'on nous conteste le droit de qualifier ainsi + [that is, to call heresies] les tendances qui furent si + vivement combattues par les premiers Peres. La designation + meme d'heresie semble une atteinte portee a la liberte de + conscience et de pensee. Nous ne pouvons partager ce scrupule, + car il n'irait a rien moins qu'a enlever au Christianisme tout + caractere distinctif." [see Footnote] + + [Footnote: "I know that our right to qualify thus the + tendencies which were so actively opposed by the early + Fathers is contested. The very use of the word heresy + seems an attack upon liberty of conscience and thought. + We cannot share this scruple; for it would amount to + nothing less than depriving Christianity of all + distinctive character." + +And though he tells us that after Constantine's time the Church +did actually abuse its power by designating those who dissented +from it as heretics and persecuting them, yet he says, when +speaking of early times: + + "L'eglise est une libre association; il y a tout profit a se + separer d'elle. La polemique contre l'erreur n'a d'autres + ressources que la pensee et le sentiment. Un type doctrinal + uniforme n'a pas encore ete elabore; les divergences + secondaires se produisent en Orient et en Occident avec une + entiere liberte; la theologie n'est point liee a d'invariables + formules. Si au sein de cette diversite apparait un fonds + commun de croyances, n'est-on pas en droit d'y voir non pas un + systeme formule et compose par les representants d'une + autorite d'ecole, mais la foi elle-meme dons son instinct le + plus sur et sa manifestation la plus spontanee? Si cette meme + unanimite qui se revele dans les croyances essentielles, se + retrouve pour repousser telles ou telles tendances ne serons + nous pas en droit de conclure que ces tendances etaient en + desacord flagrant avec les principes fondamentaux du + christianisme? Cette presomption ne se transformerait-elle + pas en certitude si nous reconnaissons dans la doctrine + universellement repoussee par l'Eglise les traits + caracteristiques de l'une des religions du passe? Pour dire + que le gnosticisme ou l'ebionitisme sont les formes legitimes + de la pensee chretienne il faut dire hardiment qu'il n'y a pas + de pensee chretienne, ni de caractere specifique qui la fasse + reconnaitre. Sous pretexte de l'elargir, on la dissout. + Personne au temps de Platon n'eut ose couvrir de son nom une + doctrine qui n'eut pas fait place a la theorie des idees; et + l'on eut excite les justes moqueries de la Grece, en voulant + faire d'Epicure ou de Zenon un disciple de l'Academie. + Reconnaissons donc que s'il existe une religion ou une + doctrine qui s'appelle christianisme, elle peut avoir ses + heresies." [see Footnote] + + [Footnote: "The Church is a free association; there is much to + be gained by separation from it. Conflict with error has no + weapons other than thought and feeling. One uniform type of + doctrine has not yet been elaborated; divergencies in + secondary matters arise freely in East and West; theology is + not wedded to invariable formulas. If in the midst of this + diversity a mass of beliefs common to all is apparent, is one + not justified in seeing in it, not a formulated system, framed + by the representatives of pedantic authority, but faith itself + in its surest instinct and its most spontaneous manifestation? + If the same unanimity which is revealed in essential points of + belief is found also in rejecting certain tendencies, are we + not justified in concluding that these tendencies were in + flagrant opposition to the fundamental principles of + Christianity? And will not this presumption be transformed + into certainty if we recognize in the doctrine universally + rejected by the Church the characteristic features of one of + the religions of the past? To say that gnosticism or + ebionitism are legitimate forms of Christian thought, one must + boldly deny the existence of Christian thought at all, or any + specific character by which it could be recognized. While + ostensibly widening its realm, one undermines it. No one in + the time of Plato would lave ventured to give his name to a + doctrine in which the theory of ideas had no place, and one + would deservedly have excited the ridicule of Greece by trying + to pass off Epicurus or Zeno as a disciple of the Academy. + Let us recognize, then, that if a religion or a doctrine + exists which is called Christianity, it may have its + heresies." + +The author's whole argument amounts to this: that every opinion +which differs from the code of dogmas we believe in at a given +time, is heresy. But of course at any given time and place men +always believe in something or other; and this belief in +something, indefinite at any place, at some time, cannot be a +criterion of truth. + +It all amounts to this: since ubi Christus ibi Ecclesia, then +Christus is where we are. + +Every so-called heresy, regarding, as it does, its own creed as +the truth, can just as easily find in Church history a series of +illustrations of its own creed, can use all Pressense's arguments +on its own behalf, and can call its own creed the one truly +Christian creed. And that is just what all heresies do and have +always done. + +The only definition of heresy (the word [GREEK WORD], means a +part) is this: the name given by a body of men to any opinion +which rejects a part of the Creed professed by that body. The +more frequent meaning, more often ascribed to the word heresy, is +--that of an opinion which rejects the Church doctrine founded and +supported by the temporal authorities. + + [TRANSCRIBIST'S NOTE: The GREEK WORD above used Greek letters, + spelled: alpha(followed by an apostrophe)-iota(with accent)- + rho-epsilon-sigma-iota-zeta] + +There is a remarkable and voluminous work, very little known, +"Unpartheyische Kirchen- und Ketzer-Historie," 1729, by Gottfried +Arnold, which deals with precisely this subject, and points out +all the unlawfulness, the arbitrariness, the senselessness, and +the cruelty of using the word heretic in the sense of reprobate. +This book is an attempt to write the history of Christianity in +the form of a history of heresy. + +In the introduction the author propounds a series of questions: +(1) Of those who make heretics; (2) Of those whom they made +heretics; (3) Of heretical subjects themselves; (4) Of the method +of making heretics; and (5) Of the object and result of making +heretics. + +On each of these points he propounds ten more questions, the +answers to which he gives later on from the works of well-known +theologians. But he leaves the reader to draw for himself the +principal conclusion from the expositions in the whole book. As +examples of these questions, in which the answers are to some +extent included also, I will quote the following. Under the 4th +head, of the manner in which heretics are made, he says, in one of +the questions (in the 7th): + + "Does not all history show that the greatest makers of + heretics and masters of that craft were just these wise men, + from whom the Father hid his secrets, that is, the hypocrites, + the Pharisees, and lawyers, men utterly godless and perverted + (Question 20-21)? And in the corrupt times of Christianity + were not these very men cast out, denounced by the hypocrites + and envious, who were endowed by God with great gifts and who + would in the days of pure Christianity have been held in high + honor? And, on the other hand, would not the men who, in the + decline of Christianity raised themselves above all, and + regarded themselves as the teachers of the purest Christianity, + would not these very men, in the times of the apostles and + disciples of Christ, have been regarded as the most shameless + heretics and anti-Christians?" + +He expounds, among other things in these questions, the theory +that any verbal expression of faith, such as was demanded by the +Church, and the departure from which was reckoned as heresy, could +never fully cover the exact religious ideas of a believer, and +that therefore the demand for an expression of faith in certain +words was ever productive of heresy, and he says, in Question 21: + + "And if heavenly things and thoughts present themselves to a + man's mind as so great and so profound that he does not find + corresponding words to express them, ought one to call him a + heretic, because he cannot express his idea with perfect + exactness?" + +And in Question 33: + + "And is not the fact that there was no heresy in the earliest + days due to the fact that the Christians did not judge one + another by verbal expressions, but by deed and by heart, since + they had perfect liberty to express their ideas without the + dread of being called heretics; was it not the easiest and most + ordinary ecclesiastical proceeding, if the clergy wanted to get + rid of or to ruin anyone, for them to cast suspicion on the + person's belief, and to throw a cloak of heresy upon him, and + by this means to procure his condemnation and removal? + + "True though it may be that there were sins and errors among + the so-called heretics, it is no less true and evident," he + says farther on, "from the innumerable examples quoted here + (i. e., in the history of the Church and of heresy), that there + was not a single sincere and conscientious man of any + importance whom the Churchmen would not from envy or other + causes have ruined." + +Thus, almost two hundred years ago, the real meaning of heresy was +understood. And notwithstanding that, the same conception of it +has gone on existing up to now. And it cannot fail to exist so +long as the conception of a church exists. Heresy is the obverse +side of the Church. Wherever there is a church, there must be the +conception of heresy. A church is a body of men who assert that +they are in possession of infallible truth. Heresy is the opinion +of the men who do not admit the infallibility of the Church's +truth. + +Heresy makes its appearance in the Church. It is the effort to +break through the petrified authority of the Church. All effort +after a living comprehension of the doctrine has been made by +heretics. Tertullian, Origen, Augustine, Luther, Huss, +Savonarola, Helchitsky, and the rest were heretics. It could not +be otherwise. + +The follower of Christ, whose service means an ever-growing +understanding of his teaching, and an ever-closer fulfillment of +it, in progress toward perfection, cannot, just because he is a +follower, of Christ, claim for himself or any other that he +understands Christ's teaching fully and fulfills it. Still less +can he claim this for any body of men. + +To whatever degree of understanding and perfection the follower of +Christ may have attained, he always feels the insufficiency of his +understanding and fulfillment of it, and is always striving toward +a fuller understanding and fulfillment. And therefore, to assert +of one's self or of any body of men, that one is or they are in +possession of perfect understanding and fulfillment of Christ's +word, is to renounce the very spirit of Christ's teaching. + +Strange as it may seem, the churches as churches have always been, +and cannot but be, institutions not only alien in spirit to +Christ's teaching, but even directly antagonistic to it. With +good reason Voltaire calls the Church l'infame; with good reason +have all or almost all so-called sects of Christians recognized +the Church as the scarlet woman foretold in the Apocalypse; with +good reason is the history of the Church the history of the +greatest cruelties and horrors. + +The churches as churches are not, as many people suppose, +institutions which have Christian principles for their basis, even +though they may have strayed a little away from the straight path. +The churches as churches, as bodies which assert their own +infallibility, are institutions opposed to Christianity. There is +not only nothing in common between the churches as such and +Christianity, except the name, but they represent two principles +fundamentally opposed and antagonistic to one another. One +represents pride, violence, self-assertion, stagnation, and death; +the other, meekness, penitence, humility, progress, and life. + +We cannot serve these two masters; we have to choose between +them. + +The servants of the churches of all denominations, especially of +later times, try to show themselves champions of progress in +Christianity. They make concessions, wish to correct the abuses +that have slipped into the Church, and maintain that one cannot, +on account of these abuses, deny the principle itself of a +Christian church, which alone can bind all men together in unity +and be a mediator between men and God. But this is all a mistake. +Not only have churches never bound men together in unity; they +have always been one of the principal causes of division between +men, of their hatred of one another, of wars, battles, +inquisitions, massacres of St. Bartholomew, and so on. And the +churches have never served as mediators between men and God. Such +mediation is not wanted, and was directly forbidden by Christ, who +has revealed his teaching directly and immediately to each man. +But the churches set up dead forms in the place of God, and far +from revealing God, they obscure him from men's sight. The +churches, which originated from misunderstanding of Christ's +teaching and have maintained this misunderstanding by their +immovability, cannot but persecute and refuse to recognize all +true understanding of Christ's words. They try to conceal this, +but in vain; for every step forward along the path pointed out for +us by Christ is a step toward their destruction. + +To hear and to read the sermons and articles in which Church +writers of later times of all denominations speak of Christian +truths and virtues; to hear or read these skillful arguments that +have been elaborated during centuries, and exhortations and +professions, which sometimes seem like sincere professions, one is +ready to doubt whether the churches can be antagonistic to +Christianity. "It cannot be," one says, "that these people who +can point to such men as Chrysostom, Fenelon, Butler, and others +professing the Christian faith, were antagonistic to +Christianity." One is tempted to say, "The churches may have +strayed away from Christianity, they may be in error, but they +cannot be hostile to it." But we must look to the fruit to judge +the tree, as Christ taught c us. And if we see that their fruits +were evil, that the results of their activity were antagonistic to +Christianity, we cannot but admit that however good the men were-- +the work of the Church in which these men took part was not +Christian. The goodness and worth of these men who served the +churches was the goodness and worth of the men, and not of the +institution they served. All the good men, such as Francis of +Assisi, and Francis of Sales, our Tihon Zadonsky, Thomas a Kempis, +and others, were good men in spite of their serving an institution +hostile to Christianity, and they would have been still better if +they had not been under the influence of the error which they were +serving. + +But why should we speak of the past and judge from the past, which +may have been misrepresented and misunderstood by us? The +churches, with their principles and their practice, are not a +thing of the past. The churches are before us to-day, and we can +judge of them to some purpose by their practical activity, their +influence on men. + +What is the practical work of the churches to-day? What is their +influence upon men? What is done by the churches among us, among +the Catholics and the Protestants of all denominations--what is +their practical work? and what are the results of their practical +work? + +The practice of our Russian so-called Orthodox Church is plain to +all. It is an enormous fact which there is no possibility of +hiding and about which there can be no disputing. + +What constitutes the practical work of this Russian Church, this +immense, intensely active institution, which consists of a +regiment of half a million men and costs the people tens of +millions of rubles? + +The practical business of the Church consists in instilling by +every conceivable means into the mass of one hundred millions of +the Russian people those extinct relics of beliefs for which there +is nowadays no kind of justification, "in which scarcely anyone +now believes, and often not even those whose duty it is to diffuse +these false beliefs." To instill into the people the formulas of +Byzantine theology, of the Trinity, of the Mother of God, of +Sacraments, of Grace, and so on, extinct conceptions, foreign to +us, and having no kind of meaning for men of our times, +forms only one part of the work of the Russian Church. Another +part of its practice consists in the maintenance of idol-worship +in the most literal meaning of the word; in the veneration of holy +relics, and of ikons, the offering of sacrifices to them, and the +expectation of their answers to prayer. I am not going to speak +of what is preached and what is written by clergy of scientific or +liberal tendencies in the theological journals. I am going to +speak of what is actually done by the clergy through the wide +expanse of the Russian land among a people of one hundred +millions. What do they, diligently, assiduously, everywhere +alike, without intermission, teach the people? What do they +demand from the people in virtue of their (so-called) Christian +faith? + +I will begin from the beginning with the birth of a child. At the +birth of a child they teach them that they must recite a prayer +over the child and mother to purify them, as though without this +prayer the mother of a newborn child were unclean. To do this the +priest holds the child in his arms before the images of the saints +(called by the people plainly gods) and reads words of exorcizing +power, and this purifies the mother. Then it is suggested to the +parents, and even exacted of them, under fear of punishment for +non-fulfillment, that the child must be baptized; that is, be +dipped by the priest three times into the water, while certain +words, understood by no one, are read aloud, and certain actions, +still less understood, are performed; various parts of the body +are rubbed with oil, and the hair is cut, while the sponsors blow +and spit at an imaginary devil. All this is necessary to purify +the child and to make him a Christian. Then it is instilled into +the parents that they ought to administer the sacrament to the +child, that is, give him, in the guise of bread and wine, a +portion of Christ's body to eat, as a result of which the child +receives the grace of God within it, and so on. Then it is +suggested that the child as it grows up must be taught to pray. +To pray means to place himself directly before the wooden boards +on which are painted the faces of Christ, the Mother of God, and +the saints, to bow his head and his whole body, and to touch his +forehead, his shoulders and his stomach with his right hand, +holding his fingers in a certain position, and to utter some words +of Slavonic, the most usual of which as taught to all children +are: Mother of God, virgin, rejoice thee, etc., etc. + +Then it is instilled into the child as it is brought up that at +the sight of any church or ikon he must repeat the same action--i. +e., cross himself. Then it is instilled into him that on holidays +(holidays are the days on which Christ was born, though no one +knows when that was, on which he was circumcised, on which the +Mother of God died, on which the cross was carried in procession, +on which ikons have been set up, on which a lunatic saw a vision, +and so on)--on holidays he must dress himself in his best clothes +and go to church, and must buy candles and place them there before +the images of the saints. Then he must give offerings and prayers +for the dead, and little loaves to be cut up into three-cornered +pieces, and must pray many times for the health and prosperity of +the Tzar and the bishops, and for himself and his own affairs, and +then kiss the cross and the hand of the priest. +Besides these observances, it is instilled into him that at +least once a year he must confess. To confess means to go to the +church and to tell the priest his sins, on the theory that this +informing a stranger of his sins completely purifies him from +them. And after that he must eat with a little spoon a morsel of +bread with wine, which will purify him still more. Next it is +instilled into him that if a man and woman want their physical +union to be sanctified they must go to church, put on metal +crowns, drink certain potions, walk three times round a table to +the sound of singing, and that then the physical union of a man +and woman becomes sacred and altogether different from all other +such unions. + +Further it is instilled into him in his life that he must observe +the following rules: not to eat butter or milk on certain days, +and on certain other days to sing Te Deums and requiems for the +dead, on holidays to entertain the priest and give him money, and +several times in the year to bring the ikons from the church, and +to carry them slung on his shoulders through the fields and +houses. It is instilled into him that on his death-bed a man must +not fail to eat bread and wine with a spoon, and that it will be +still better if he has time to be rubbed with sacred oil. This +will guarantee his welfare in the future life. After his death it +is instilled into his relatives that it is a good thing for the +salvation of the dead man to place a printed paper of prayers in +his hands; it is a good thing further to read aloud a certain book +over the dead body, and to pronounce the dead man's name in church +at a certain time. All this is regarded as faith obligatory on +everyone. + +But if anyone wants to take particular care of his soul, then +according to this faith he is instructed that the greatest +security of the salvation of the soul in the world is attained by +offering money to the churches and monasteries, and engaging the +holy men by this means to pray for him. Entering monasteries too +and kissing relics and miraculous ikons, are further means of +salvation for the soul. + +According to this faith ikons and relics communicate a special +sanctity, power, and grace, and even proximity to these objects, +touching them, kissing them, putting candles before them, crawling +under them while they are being carried along, are all efficacious +for salvation, as well as Te Deums repeated before these holy +things. + +So this, and nothing else, is the faith called Orthodox, that is +the actual faith which, under the guise of Christianity, has been +with all the forces of the Church, and is now with especial zeal, +instilled into the people. + +And let no one say that the Orthodox teachers place the essential +part of their teaching in something else, and that all these are +only ancient forms, which it is not thought necessary to do away +with. That is false. This, and nothing but this, is the faith +taught through the whole of Russia by the whole of the Russian +clergy, and of late years with especial zeal. There is nothing +else taught. Something different may be talked of and written of +in the capitals; but among the hundred millions of the people this +is what is done, this is what is taught, and nothing more. +Churchmen may talk of something else, but this is what they teach +by every means in their power. + +All this, and the worship of relics and of ikons, has been +introduced into works of theology and into the catechisms. Thus +they teach it to the people in theory and in practice, using every +resource of authority, solemnity, pomp, and violence to impress +them. They compel the people, by overawing them, to believe in +this, and jealously guard this faith from any attempt to free the +people from these barbarous superstitions. + +As I said when I published my book, Christ's teaching and his very +words about non-resistance to evil were for many years a subject +for ridicule and low jesting in my eyes, and Churchmen, far from +opposing it, even encouraged this scoffing at sacred things. But +try the experiment of saying a disrespectful word about a hideous +idol which is carried sacrilegiously about Moscow by drunken men +under the name of the ikon of the Iversky virgin, and you will +raise a groan of indignation from these same Churchmen. All that +they preach is an external observance of the rites of idolatry. +And let it not be said that the one does not hinder the other, +that "These ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other +undone." "All, therefore, whatsoever they bid you observe, that +observe and do; but do not ye after their works: for they say, and +do not" (Matt. xxiii. 23, 3). + +This was spoken of the Pharisees, who fulfilled all the external +observances prescribed by the law, and therefore the words +"whatsoever they bid you observe, that observe and do," refer to +works of mercy and goodness, and the words "do not ye after their +works, for they say and do not," refer to their observance of +ceremonies and their neglect of good works, and have exactly the +opposite meaning to that which the Churchmen try to give to the +passage, interpreting it as an injunction to observe ceremonies. +External observances and the service of truth and goodness are for +the most part difficult to combine; the one excludes the other. +So it was with the Pharisees, so it is now with Church Christians. + +If a man can be saved by the redemption, by sacraments, and by +prayer, then he does not need good works. + +The Sermon on the Mount, or the Creed. One cannot believe in both. +And Churchmen have chosen the latter. The Creed is taught and is +read as a prayer in the churches, but the Sermon on the Mount is +excluded even from the Gospel passages read in the churches, so +that the congregation never hears it in church, except on those +days when the whole of the Gospel is read. Indeed, it could not +he otherwise. People who believe in a wicked and senseless God-- +who has cursed the human race and devoted his own Son to +sacrifice, and a part of mankind to eternal torment--cannot +believe in the God of love. The man who believes in a God, in a +Christ coming again in glory to judge and to punish the quick and +the dead, cannot believe in the Christ who bade us turn the left +cheek, judge not, forgive these that wrong us, and love our +enemies. The man who believes in the inspiration of the Old +Testament and the sacred character of David, who commanded on his +deathbed the murder of an old man who had cursed him, and whom he +could not kill himself because he was bound by an oath to him, and +the similar atrocities of which the Old Testament is full, cannot +believe in the holy love of Christ. The man who believes in the +Church's doctrine of the compatibility of warfare and capital +punishment with Christianity cannot believe in the brotherhood of +all men. + +And what is most important of all--the man who believes in +salvation through faith in the redemption or the sacraments, +cannot devote all his powers to realizing Christ's moral teaching +in his life. + +The man who has been instructed by the Church in the profane +doctrine that a man cannot be saved by his own powers, but that +there is another means of salvation, will infallibly rely upon +this means and not on his own powers, which, they assure him, it +is sinful to trust in. + +The teaching of every Church, with its redemption and sacraments, +excludes the teaching of Christ; most of all the teaching of the +Orthodox Church with its idolatrous observances. + +"But the people have always believed of their own accord as they +believe now," will be said in answer to this. "The whole history +of the Russian people proves it. One cannot deprive the people of +their traditions." This statement, too, is misleading. The +people did certainly at one time believe in something like what +the Church believes in now, though it was far from being the same +thing. In spite of their superstitious regard for ikons, +housespirits, relics, and festivals with wreaths of birch leaves, +there has still always been in the people a profound moral and +living understanding of Christianity, which there has never been +in the Church as a whole, and which is only met with in its best +representatives. But the people, notwithstanding all the +prejudices instilled into them by the government and the Church, +have in their best representatives long outgrown that crude stage +of understanding, a fact which is proved by the springing up +everywhere of the rationalist sects with which Russia is swarming +to-day, and on which Churchmen are now carrying on an ineffectual +warfare. The people are advancing to a consciousness of the +moral, living side of Christianity. And then the Church +comes forward, not borrowing from the people, but zealously +instilling into them the petrified formalities of an extinct +paganism, and striving to thrust them back again into the +darkness from which they are emerging with such effort. + +"We teach the people nothing new, nothing but what they believe, +only in a more perfect form," say the Churchmen. This is just +what the man did who tied up the full-grown chicken and thrust it +back into the shell it had come out of. + +I have often been irritated, though it would be comic if the +consequences were not so awful, by observing how men shut one +another in a delusion and cannot get out of this magic circle. + +The first question, the first doubt of a Russian who is beginning +to think, is a question about the ikons, and still more the +miraculous relics: Is it true that they are genuine, and that +miracles are worked through them? Hundreds of thousands of men +put this question to themselves, and their principal difficulty in +answering it is the fact that bishops, metropolitans, and all men +in positions of authority kiss the relics and wonder-working +ikons. Ask the bishops and men in positions of authority why they +do so, and they will say they do it for the sake of the people, +while the people kiss them because the bishops and men in +authority do so. + +In spite of all the external varnish of modernity, learning, and +spirituality which the members of the Church begin nowadays to +assume in their works, their articles, their theological journals, +and their sermons, the practical work of the Russian Church +consists of nothing more than keeping the people in their present +condition of coarse and savage idolatry, and worse still, +strengthening and diffusing superstition and religious ignorance, +and suppressing that living understanding of Christianity which +exists in the people side by side with idolatry. + +I remember once being present in the monks' bookshop of the Optchy +Hermitage while an old peasant was choosing books for his +grandson, who could read. A monk pressed on him accounts of +relics, holidays, miraculous ikons, a psalter, etc. I asked the +old man, "Has he the Gospel?" "No." "Give him the Gospel in +Russian," I said to the monk. "That will not do for him," +answered the monk. There you have an epitome of the work of our +Church. + +But this is only in barbarous Russia, the European and American +reader will observe. And such an observation is just, but only so +far as it refers to the government, which aids the Church in its +task of stultification and corruption in Russia. + +It is true that there is nowhere in Europe a government so +despotic and so closely allied with the ruling Church. And +therefore the share of the temporal power in the corruption of the +people is greatest in Russia. But it is untrue that the Russian +Church in its influence on the people is in any respect different +from any other church. + +The churches are everywhere the same, and if the Catholic, the +Anglican, or the Lutheran Church has not at hand a government as +compliant as the Russian, it is not due to any indisposition to +profit by such a government. + +The Church as a church, whatever it may be--Catholic, Anglican, +Lutheran, Presbyterian--every church, in so far as it is a church, +cannot but strive for the same object as the Russian Church. +That object is to conceal the real meaning of Christ's teaching +and to replace it by their own, which lays no obligation on them, +excludes the possibility of understanding the true teaching of +Christ, and what is the chief consideration, justifies the +existence of priests supported at the people's expense. + +What else has Catholicism done, what else is it doing in its +prohibition of reading the Gospel, and in its demand for +unreasoning submission to Church authorities and to an infallible +Pope? Is the religion of Catholicism any other than that of the +Russian Church? There is the same external ritual, the same +relics, miracles, and wonder-working images of Notre Dame, and the +same processions; the same loftily vague discussions of +Christianity in books and sermons, and when it comes to practice, +the same supporting of the present idolatry. And is not the same +thing done in Anglicanism, Lutheranism, and every denomination of +Protestantism which has been formed into a church? There is the +same duty laid on their congregations to believe in the dogmas +expressed in the fourth century, which have lost all meaning for +men of our times, and the same duty of idolatrous worship, if not +of relics and ikons, then of the Sabbath Day and the letter of the +Bible. There is always the same activity directed to concealing +the real duties of Christianity, and to putting in their place an +external respectability and cant, as it is so well described by +the English, who are peculiarly oppressed by it. In Protestantism +this tendency is specially remarkable because it has not the +excuse of antiquity. And does not exactly the same thing show +itself even in contemporary revivalism--the revived Calvinism and +Evangelicalism, to which the Salvation Army owes its origin? + +Uniform is the attitude of all the churches to the teaching of +Christ, whose name they assume for their own advantage. + +The inconsistency of all church forms of religion with the +teaching of Christ is, of course, the reason why special efforts +are necessary to conceal this inconsistency from people. Truly, +the need only imagine ourselves in the position of any grown-up +man, not necessarily educated, even the simplest man of the +present day, who has picked up the ideas that are everywhere in +the air nowadays of geology, physics, chemistry, cosmography, or +history, when he, for the first time, consciously compares them +with the articles of belief instilled into him in childhood, and +maintained by the churches--that God created the world in six +days, and light before the sun; that Noah shut up all the animals +in his ark, and so on; that Jesus is also God the Son, who created +all before time was; that this God came down upon earth to atone +for Adam's sin; that he rose again, ascended into heaven, and +sitteth on the right hand of the Father, and will come in the +clouds to judge the world, and so on. All these propositions, +elaborated by men of the fourth century, had a certain meaning for +men of that time, but for men of to-day they have no meaning +whatever. Men of the present day can repeat these words with +their lips, but believe them they cannot. For such sentences as +that God lives in heaven, that the heavens opened and a voice from +somewhere said something, that Christ rose again, and ascended +somewhere in heaven, and again will come from somewhere on the +clouds, and so on, have no meaning for us. + +A man who regarded the heavens as a solid, finite vault could +believe or disbelieve that God created the heavens, that the +heavens opened, that Christ ascended into heaven, but for us all +these phrases nave no sense whatever. Men of the present can only +believe, as indeed they do, that they ought to believe in this; +but believe it they cannot, because it has no meaning for them. + +Even if all these phrases ought to be interpreted in a figurative +sense and are allegories, we know that in the first place all +Churchmen are not agreed about it, but, on the contrary, the +majority stick to understanding the Holy Scripture in its literal +sense; and secondly, that these allegorical interpretations are +very varied and are not supported by any evidence. + +But even if a man wants to force himself to believe in the +doctrines of the Church just as they are taught to him, the +universal diffusion of education and of the Gospel and of +communication between people of different forms of religion +presents a still more insurmountable obstacle to his doing so. + +A man of the present day need only buy a Gospel for three copecks +and read through the plain words, admitting of no +misinterpretation, that Christ said to the Samaritan woman "that +the Father seeketh not worshipers at Jerusalem, nor in this +mountain nor in that, but worshipers in spirit and in truth," or +the saying that "the Christian must not pray like the heathen, nor +for show, but secretly, that is, in his closet," or that Christ's +follower must call no man master or father--he need only read +these words to be thoroughly convinced that the Church pastors, +who call themselves teachers in opposition to Christ's precept, +and dispute among themselves, constitute no kind of authority, and +that what the Churchmen teach us is not Christianity. Less even +than that is necessary. Even if a man nowadays did continue to +believe in miracles and did not read the Gospel, mere association +with people of different forms of religion and faith, which +happens so easily in these days, compels him to doubt of the truth +of his own faith. It was all very well when a man did not see men +of any other form of religion than his own; he believed that his +form of religion was the one true one. But a thinking man has +only to come into contact--as constantly happens in these days-- +with people, equally good and bad, of different denominations, who +condemn each other's beliefs, to doubt of the truth of the belief +he professes himself. In these days only a man who is absolutely +ignorant or absolutely indifferent to the vital questions with +which religion deals, can remain in the faith of the Church. + +What deceptions and what strenuous efforts the churches must +employ to continue, in spite of all these tendencies subversive of +the faith, to build churches, to perform masses, to preach, to +teach, to convert, and, most of all, to receive for it all immense +emoluments, as do all these priests, pastors, incumbents, +superintendents, abbots, archdeacons, bishops, and archbishops. +They need special supernatural efforts. And the churches do, with +ever-increasing intensity and zeal, make such efforts. With us in +Russia, besides other means, they employ, simple brute force, as +there the temporal power is willing to obey the Church. Men who +refuse an external assent to the faith, and say so openly, are +either directly punished or deprived of their rights; men who +strictly keep the external forms of religion are rewarded and +given privileges. + +That is how the Orthodox clergy proceed; but indeed all churches +without exception avail themselves of every means for the purpose +--one of the most important of which is what is now called +hypnotism. + +Every art, from architecture to poetry, is brought into +requisition to work its effect on men's souls and to reduce them +to a state of stupefaction, and this effect is constantly +produced. This use of hypnotizing influence on men to bring them +to a state of stupefaction is especially apparent in the +proceedings of the Salvation Army, who employ new practices to +which we are unaccustomed: trumpets, drums, songs, flags, +costumes, marching, dancing, tears, and dramatic performances. + +But this only displeases us because these are new practices. Were +not the old practices in churches essentially the same, with their +special lighting, gold, splendor, candles, choirs, organ, bells, +vestments, intoning, etc.? + +But however powerful this hypnotic influence may be, it is not the +chief nor the most pernicious activity of the +Church. The chief and most pernicious work of the Church is that +which is directed to the deception of children--these very +children of whom Christ said: "Woe to him that offendeth one of +these little ones." From the very first awakening of the +consciousness of the child they begin to deceive him, to instill +into him with the utmost solemnity what they do not themselves +believe in, and they continue to instill it into him till the +deception has by habit grown into the child's nature. They +studiously deceive the child on the most important subject in +life, and when the deception has so grown into his life that it +would be difficult to uproot it, then they reveal to him the whole +world of science and reality, which cannot by any means be +reconciled with the beliefs that have been instilled into him, +leaving it to him to find his way as best he can out of these +contradictions. + +If one set oneself the task of trying to confuse a man so that he +could not think clearly nor free himself from the perplexity of +two opposing theories of life which had been instilled into him +from childhood, one could not invent any means more effectual than +the treatment of every young man educated in our so-called +Christian society. + +It is terrible to think what the churches do to men. But +if one imagines oneself in the position of the men who constitute +the Church, we see they could not act differently. The churches +are placed in a dilemma: the Sermon on the Mount or the Nicene +Creed--the one excludes the other. If a man sincerely believes in +the Sermon on the Mount, the Nicene Creed must inevitably lose all +meaning and significance for him, and the Church and its +representatives together with it. If a man believes in the Nicene +Creed, that is, in the Church, that is, in those who call +themselves its representatives, the Sermon on the Mount becomes +superfluous for him. And therefore the churches cannot but make +every possible effort to obscure the meaning of the Sermon on the +Mount, and to attract men to themselves. It is only due to the +intense zeal of the churches in this direction that the influence +of the churches has lasted hitherto. + +Let the Church stop its work of hypnotizing the masses, and +deceiving children even for the briefest interval of time, and men +would begin to understand Christ's teaching. But this +understanding will be the end of the churches and all their +influence. And therefore the churches will not for an instant +relax their zeal in the business of hypnotizing grown-up people +and deceiving children. This, then, is the work of the churches: +to instill a false interpretation of Christ's teaching into men, +and to prevent a true interpretation of it for the majority of so- +called believers. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +CHRISTIANITY MISUNDERSTOOD BY MEN OF SCIENCE. + +Attitude of Men of Science to Religions in General--What Religion +is, and What is its Significance for the Life of Humanity-- +Three Conceptions of Life--Christian Religion the Expression of +the Divine Conception of Life--Misinterpretation of +Christianity by Men of Science, who Study it in its External +Manifestations Due to their Criticising it from Standpoint of +Social Conception of Life--Opinion, Resulting from this +Misinterpretation, that Christ's Moral Teaching is Exaggerated +and Cannot be put into Practice--Expression of Divine +Conception of Life in the Gospel--False Ideas of Men of Science +on Christianity Proceed from their Conviction that they have an +Infallible Method of Criticism--From which come Two +Misconceptions in Regard to Christian Doctrine--First +Misconception, that the Teaching Cannot be put into Practice, +Due to the Christian Religion Directing Life in a Way Different +from that of the Social Theory of Life--Christianity holds up +Ideal, does not lay down Rules--To the Animal Force of Man +Christ Adds the Consciousness of a Divine Force--Christianity +Seems to Destroy Possibility of Life only when the Ideal held +up is Mistaken for Rule--Ideal Must Not be Lowered--Life, +According to Christ's Teaching, is Movement--The Ideal and the +Precepts--Second Misconception Shown in Replacing Love and +Service of God by Love and Service of Humanity--Men of Science +Imagine their Doctrine of Service of Humanity and Christianity +are Identical--Doctrine of Service of Humanity Based on Social +Conception of Life--Love for Humanity, Logically Deduced from +Love of Self, has No Meaning because Humanity is a Fiction-- +Christian Love Deduced from Love of God, Finds its Object in +the whole World, not in Humanity Alone--Christianity Teaches +Man to Live in Accordance with his Divine Nature--It Shows that +the Essence of the Soul of Man is Love, and that his Happiness +Ensues from Love of God, whom he Recognizes as Love within +himself. + + +Now I will speak of the other view of Christianity which hinders +the true understanding of it--the scientific view. + +Churchmen substitute for Christianity the version they have framed +of it for themselves, and this view of Christianity they regard as +the one infallibly true one. + +Men of science regard as Christianity only the tenets held by the +different churches in the past and present; and finding that these +tenets have lost all the significance of Christianity, they accept +it as a religion which has outlived its age. + +To see clearly how impossible it is to understand the Christian +teaching from such a point of view, one must form for oneself an +idea of the place actually held by religions in general, by the +Christian religion in particular, in the life of mankind, and of +the significance attributed to them by science. + +Just as the individual man cannot live without having some theory +of the meaning of his life, and is always, though often +unconsciously, framing his conduct in accordance with the meaning +he attributes to his life, so too associations of men living in +similar conditions--nations--cannot but have theories of the +meaning of their associated life and conduct ensuing from those +theories. And as the individual man, when he attains a fresh +stage of growth, inevitably changes his philosophy of life, and +the grown-up man sees a different meaning in it from the child, so +too associations of men--nations--are bound to change their +philosophy of life and the conduct ensuing from their philosophy, +to correspond with their development. + +The difference, as regards this, between the individual man and +humanity as a whole, lies in the fact that the individual, in +forming the view of life proper to the new period of life on which +he is entering and the conduct resulting from it, benefits by the +experience of men who have lived before him, who have already +passed through the stage of growth upon which he is entering. But +humanity cannot have this aid, because it is always moving along a +hitherto untrodden track, and has no one to ask how to understand +life, and to act in the conditions on which it is entering and +through which no one has ever passed before. + +Nevertheless, just as a man with wife and children cannot continue +to look at life as he looked at it when he was a child, so too in +the face of the various changes that are taking place, the greater +density of population, the establishment of communication between +different peoples, the improvements of the methods of the struggle +with nature, and the accumulation of knowledge, humanity cannot +continue to look at life as of old, and it must frame a new +theory of life, from which conduct may follow adapted to the new +conditions on which it has entered and is entering. + +To meet this need humanity has the special power of producing men +who give a new meaning to the whole of human life--a theory of +life from which follow new forms of activity quite different from +all preceding them. The formation of this philosophy of life +appropriate to humanity in the new conditions on which it is +entering, and of the practice resulting from it, is what is called +religion. + +And therefore, in the first place, religion is not, as science +imagines, a manifestation which at one time corresponded with the +development of humanity, but is afterward outgrown by it. It is a +manifestation always inherent in the life of humanity, and is as +indispensable, as inherent in humanity at the present time as at +any other. Secondly, religion is always the theory of the +practice of the future and not of the past, and therefore it is +clear that investigation of past manifestations cannot in any case +grasp the essence of religion. + +The essence of every religious teaching lies not in the desire for +a symbolic expression of the forces of nature, nor in the dread of +these forces, nor in the craving for the marvelous, nor in the +external forms in which it is manifested, as men of science +imagine; the essence of religion lies in the faculty of men of +foreseeing and pointing out the path of life along which humanity +must move in the discovery of a new theory of life, as a result of +which the whole future conduct of humanity is changed and +different from all that has been before. + +This faculty of foreseeing the path along which humanity must +move, is common in a greater or less degree to all men. But in +all times there have been men in whom this faculty was especially +strong, and these men have given clear and definite expression to +what all men felt vaguely, and formed a new philosophy of life +from which new lines of action followed for hundreds and thousands +of years. + +Of such philosophies of life we know three; two have already been +passed through by humanity, and the third is that we are passing +through now in Christianity. These philosophies of life are three +in number, and only three, not because we have arbitrarily brought +the various theories of life together under these three heads, but +because all men's actions are always based on one of these three +views of life--because we cannot view life otherwise than in these +three ways. + +These three views of life are as follows: First, embracing the +individual, or the animal view of life; second, embracing the +society, or the pagan view of life; third, embracing the whole +world, or the divine view of life. + +In the first theory of life a man's life is limited to his one +individuality; the aim of life is the satisfaction of the will of +this individuality. In the second theory of life a man's life is +limited not to his own individuality, but to certain societies and +classes of individuals: to the tribe, the family, the clan, the +nation; the aim of life is limited to the satisfaction of the will +of those associations of individuals. In the third theory of life +a man's life is limited not to societies and classes of +individuals, but extends to the principle and source of life--to +God. + +These three conceptions of life form the foundation of all the +religious that exist or have existed. + +The savage recognizes life only in himself and his personal +desires. His interest in life is concentrated on himself alone. +The highest happiness for him is the fullest satisfaction of his +desires. The motive power of his life is personal enjoyment. His +religion consists in propitiating his deity and in worshiping his +gods, whom he imagines as persons living only for their personal +aims. + +The civilized pagan recognizes life not in himself alone, but in +societies of men--in the tribe, the clan, the family, the kingdom +--and sacrifices his personal good for these societies. The +motive power of his life is glory. His religion consists in the +exaltation of the glory of those who are allied to him--the +founders of his family, his ancestors, his rulers--and in +worshiping gods who are exclusively protectors of his clan, his +family, his nation, his government [see Footnote]. + + [Footnote: The fact that so many varied forms of + existence, as the life of the family, of the tribe, + of the clan, of the state, and even the life of + humanity theoretically conceived by the Positivists, + are founded on this social or pagan theory of life, + does not destroy the unity of this theory of life. + All these varied forms of life are founded on the + same conception, that the life of the individual is + not a sufficient aim of life--that the meaning of + life can be found only in societies of individuals. + +The man who holds the divine theory of life recognizes life not in +his own individuality, and not in societies of individualities (in +the family, the clan, the nation, the tribe, or the government), +but in the eternal undying source of life--in God; and to fulfill +the will of God he is ready to sacrifice his individual and family +and social welfare. The motor power of his life is love. And his +religion is the worship in deed and in truth of the principle of +the whole--God. + +The whole historic existence of mankind is nothing else than the +gradual transition from the personal, animal conception of life to +the social conception of life, and from the social conception of +life to the divine conception of life. The whole history of the +ancient peoples, lasting through thousands of years and ending +with the history of Rome, is the history of the transition from +the animal, personal view of life to the social view of life. The +whole of history from the time of the Roman Empire and the +appearance of Christianity is the history of the transition, +through which we are still passing now, from the social view of +life to the divine view of life. + +This view of life is the last, and founded upon it is the +Christian teaching, which is a guide for the whole of our life and +lies at the root of all our activity, practical and theoretic. +Yet men of what is falsely called science, pseudo-scientific men, +looking at it only in its externals, regard it as something +outgrown and having no value for us. + +Reducing it to its dogmatic side only--to the doctrines of the +Trinity, the redemption, the miracles, the Church, the sacraments, +and so on--men of science regard it as only one of an immense +number of religions which have arisen among mankind, and now, they +say, having played out its part in history, it is outliving its +own age and fading away before the light of science and of true +enlightenment. + +We come here upon what, in a large proportion of case, forms the +source of the grossest errors of mankind. Men on a lower level of +understanding, when brought into contact with phenomena of a +higher order, instead of making efforts to understand them, to +raise themselves up to the point of view from which they must look +at the subject, judge it from their lower standpoint, and the less +they understand what they are talking about, the more confidently +and unhesitatingly they pass judgment on it. + +To the majority of learned then, looking at the living, moral +teaching of Christ from the lower standpoint of the conception of +life, this doctrine appears as nothing but very indefinite and +incongruous combination of Indian asceticism, Stoic and +Neoplatonic philosophy, and insubstantial anti-social visions, +which have no serious significance for our times. Its whole +meaning is concentrated for them in its external manifestations-- +in Catholicism, Protestantism, in certain dogmas, or in the +conflict with the temporal power. Estimating the value of +Christianity by these phenomena is like a deaf man's judging of +the character and quality of music by seeing the movements of the +musicians. + +The result of this is that all these scientific men, from Kant, +Strauss, Spencer, and Renan down, do not understand the meaning of +Christ's sayings, do not understand the significance, the object, +or the reason of their utterance, do not understand even the +question to which they form the answer. Yet, without even taking +the pains to enter into their meaning, they refuse, if unfavorably +disposed, to recognize any reasonableness in his doctrines; or if +they want to treat them indulgently, they condescend, from the +height of their superiority, to correct them, on the supposition +that Christ meant to express precisely their own ideas, but did +not succeed in doing so. They behave to his teaching much as +self-assertive people talk to those whom they consider beneath +them, often supplying their companions' words: "Yes, you mean to +say this and that." This correction is always with the aim of +reducing the teaching of the higher, divine conception of life to +the level of the lower, state conception of life. + +They usually say that the moral teaching of Christianity is very +fine, but overexaggerated; that to make it quite right we must +reject all in it that is superfluous and unnecessary to our manner +of life. "And the doctrine that asks too much, and requires what +cannot he performed, is worse than that which requires of men what +is possible and consistent with their powers," these learned +interpreters of Christianity maintain, repeating what was long ago +asserted, and could not but be asserted, by those who crucified +the Teacher because they did not understand him--the Jews. + +It seems that in the judgment of the learned men of our +time the Hebrew law--a tooth for a tooth, and an eye for +an eye--is a law of just retaliation, known to mankind five +thousand years before the law of holiness which Christ +taught in its place. + +It seems that all that has been done by those men who understood +Christ's teaching literally and lived in accordance with such an +understanding of it, all that has been said and done by all true +Christians, by all the Christian saints, all that is now reforming +the world in the shape of socialism and communism--is simply +exaggeration, not worth talking about. + +After eighteen hundred years of education in Christianity the +civilized world, as represented by its most advanced thinkers, +holds the conviction that the Christian religion is a religion of +dogmas; that its teaching in relation to life is unreasonable, and +is an exaggeration, subversive of the real lawful obligations of +morality consistent with the nature of man; and that very doctrine +of retribution which Christ rejected, and in place of which he put +his teaching, is more practically useful for us. + +To learned men the doctrine of non-resistance to evil by force is +exaggerated and even irrational. Christianity is much better +without it, they think, not observing closely what Christianity, +as represented by them, amounts to. + +They do not see that to say that the doctrine of nonresistance to +evil is an exaggeration in Christ's teaching is just like saying +that the statement of the equality of the radii of a circle is an +exaggeration in the definition of a circle. And those who speak +thus are acting precisely like a man who, having no idea of what a +circle is, should declare that this requirement, that every point +of the circumference should be an equal distance from the center, +is exaggerated. To advocate the rejection of Christ's command of +non-resistance to evil, or its adaptation to the needs of life, +implies a misunderstanding of the teaching of Christ. + +And those who do so certainly do not understand it. They do not +understand that this teaching is the institution of a new theory +of life, corresponding to the new conditions on which men have +entered now for eighteen hundred years, and also the definition of +the new conduct of life which results from it. They do not +believe that Christ meant to say what he said; or he seems to them +to have said what he said in the Sermon on the Mount and in other +places accidentally, or through his lack of intelligence or of +cultivation. + + [Footnote: Here, for example, is a characteristic + view of that kind from the American journal the ARENA + (October, 1890): "New Basis of Church Life." Treating + of the significance of the Sermon on the Mount and + non-resistance to evil in particular, the author, + being under no necessity, like the Churchmen, to + hide its significance, says: + + "Christ in fact preached complete communism and + anarchy; but one must learn to regard Christ always + in his historical and psychological significance. + Like every advocate of the love of humanity, Christ + went to the furthest extreme in his teaching. Every + step forward toward the moral perfection of humanity + is always guided by men who see nothing but their + vocation. Christ, in no disparaging sense be it + said, had the typical temperament of such a reformer. + And therefore we must remember that his precepts + cannot be understood literally as a complete + philosophy of life. We ought to analyze his words + with respect for them, but in the spirit of criticism, + accepting what is true," etc. + + Christ would have been happy to say what he ought, but + he was not able to express himself as exactly and + clearly as we can in the spirit of criticism, and + therefore let us correct him. All that he said about + meekness, sacrifice, lowliness, not caring for the + morrow, was said by accident, through lack of knowing + how to express himself scientifically.] + +Matt. vi. 25-34: "Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for +your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for +your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, +and the body than rainment? Behold the fouls of the air; for they +sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your +heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? +Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit onto his stature? +And why take ye thought for rainment? Consider the lilies of the +field how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin; and yet +I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed +like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the +field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall +he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith? Therefore take +no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? +or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? (For after all these things +do the Gentiles seek), for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye +have need of all these things. But seek ye first the kingdom of +God, and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added +unto you. Take therefore no thought for the morrow; for the +morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient +unto the day is the evil thereof." Luke xii. 33-34: "Sell that ye +have, and give alms; provide yourselves bags which wax not old, a +treasure in the heavens that faileth not, where no thief +approacheth, neither moth corrupteth. For where your treasure is, +there will your heart be also." Sell all thou hast and follow me; +and he who will not leave father, or mother, or children, or +brothers, or fields, or house, he cannot be my disciple. Deny +thyself, take up thy cross each day and follow me. My meat is to +do the will of him that sent me, and to perform his works. Not my +will, but thine be done; not what I will, but as thou wilt. Life +is to do not one's will, but the will of God. + +All these principles appear to men who regard them from the +standpoint of a lower conception of life as the expression of an +impulsive enthusiasm, having no direct application to life. These +principles, however, follow from the Christian theory of life, +just as logically as the principles of paying a part of one's +private gains to the commonwealth and of sacrificing one's life in +defense of one's country follow from the state theory of life. + +As the man of the stale conception of life said to the savage: +Reflect, bethink yourself! The life of your individuality cannot +be true life, because that life is pitiful and passing. But the +life of a society and succession of individuals, family, clan, +tribe, or state, goes on living, and therefore a man must +sacrifice his own individuality for the life of the family or the +state. In exactly the same way the Christian doctrine says to the +man of the social, state conception of life, Repent ye--[GREEK +WORD]-i. e., bethink yourself, or you will be ruined. Understand +that this casual, personal life which now comes into being and to- +morrow is no more can have no permanence, that no external means, +no construction of it can give it consecutiveness and permanence. +Take thought and understand that the life you are living is not +real life--the life of the family, of society, of the state will +not save you from annihilation. The true, the rational life is +only possible for man according to the measure in which he can +participate, not in the family or the state, but in the source of +life--the Father; according to the measure in which he can merge +his life in the life of the Father. Such is undoubtedly the +Christian conception of life, visible in every utterance of the +Gospel. + + [TRANSCRIBIST'S NOTE: The GREEK WORD above used Greek letters, + spelled: mu-epsilon-tau-alpha-nu-omicron-zeta-epsilon-tau- + epsilon] + +One may not share this view of life, one may reject it, one may +show its inaccuracy and its erroneousness, but we cannot judge of +the Christian teaching without mastering this view of life. Still +less can one criticise a subject on a higher plane from a lower +point of view. From the basement one cannot judge of the effect +of the spire. But this is just what the learned critics of the +day try to do. For they share the erroneous idea of the orthodox +believers that they are in possession of certain infallible means +for investigating a subject. They fancy if they apply their so- +called scientific methods of criticism, there can be no doubt of +their conclusion being correct. + +This testing the subject by the fancied infallible method of +science is the principal obstacle to understanding the Christian +religion for unbelievers, for so-called educated people. From +this follow all the mistakes made by scientific men about the +Christian religion, and especially two strange misconceptions +which, more than everything else, hinder them from a correct +understanding of it. One of these misconceptions is that the +Christian moral teaching cannot be carried out, and that therefore +it has either no force at all--that is, it should not be accepted +as the rule of conduct--or it must be transformed, adapted to the +limits within which its fulfillment is possible in our society. +Another misconception is that the Christian doctrine of love of +God, and therefore of his service, is an obscure, mystic +principle, which gives no definite object for love, and should +therefore be replaced by the more exact and comprehensible +principles of love for men and the service of humanity. + +The first misconception in regard to the impossibility of +following the principle is the result of men of the state +conception of life unconsciously taking that conception as the +standard by which the Christian religion directs men, and taking +the Christian principle of perfection as the rule by which that +life is to be ordered; they think and say that to follow Christ's +teaching is impossible, because the complete fulfillment of all +that is required by this teaching would put an end to life. "If a +man were to carry out all that Christ teaches, he would destroy +his own life; and if all men carried it out, then the human race +would come to an end," they say. + +"If we take no thought for the morrow, what we shall eat and what +we shall drink, and wherewithal we shall be clothed, do not defend +our life, nor resist evil by force, lay down our life for others, +and observe perfect chastity, the human race cannot exist," they +say. + +And they are perfectly right if they take the principle of +perfection given by Christ's teaching as a rule which everyone is +bound to fulfill, just as in the state principles of life everyone +is bound to carry out the rule of paying taxes, supporting the +law, and so on. + +The misconception is based precisely on the fact that the teaching +of Christ guides men differently from the way in which the +precepts founded on the lower conception of life guide men. The +precepts of the state conception of life only guide men by +requiring of them an exact fulfillment of rules or laws. Christ's +teaching guides men by pointing them to the infinite perfection of +their heavenly Father, to which every man independently and +voluntarily struggles, whatever the degree of his imperfection in +the present. + +The misunderstanding of men who judge of the Christian principle +from the point of view of the state principle, consists in the +fact that on the supposition that the perfection which Christ +points to, can be fully attained, they ask themselves (just as +they ask the same question on the supposition that state laws will +be carried out) what will be the result of all this being carried +out? This supposition cannot be made, because the perfection held +up to Christians is infinite and can never be attained; and Christ +lays down his principle, having in view the fact that absolute +perfection can never be attained, but that striving toward +absolute, infinite perfection will continually increase the +blessedness of men, and that this blessedness may be increased to +infinity thereby. + +Christ is teaching not angels, but men, living and moving in the +animal life. And so to this animal force of movement Christ, as it +were, applies the new force-the recognition of Divide perfection- +and thereby directs the movement by the resultant of these two +forces.. + +To suppose that human life is going in the direction to which +Christ pointed it, is just like supposing that a little boat +afloat on a rabid river, and directing its course almost exactly +against the current, will progress in that direction. + +Christ recognizes the existence of both sides of the +parallelogram, of both eternal indestructible forces of which the +life of man is compounded: the force of his animal nature and the +force of the consciousness of Kinship to God. Saying nothing of +the animal force which asserts itself, remains always the same, +and is therefore independent of human will, Christ speaks only of +the Divine force, calling upon a man to know it more closely, to +set it more free from all that retards it, and to carry it to a +higher degree of intensity. + +In the process of liberating, of strengthening this force, the +true life of man, according to Christ's teaching, consists. The +true life, according to preceding religions, consists in carrying +out rules, the law; according to Christ's teaching it consists in +an ever closer approximation to the divine perfection hell up +before every man, and recognized within himself by every man, in +an ever closer and closer approach to the perfect fusion of his +will in the will of God, that fusion toward which man strives, and +the attainment of which would be the destruction of the life me +know. + +The divine perfection is the asymptote of human life to which it +is always striving, and always approaching, though it can only be +reached in infinity. + +The Christian religion seems to exclude the possibility life only +when men mistake the pointing to an ideal as the laying down of a +rule. It is only then that the principles presented in Christ's +teaching appear to be destructive of life. These principles, on +the contrary, are the only ones that make true life possible. +Without these principles true life could not be possible. + +"One ought not to expect so much," is what people usually say in +discussing the requirements of the Christian religion. "One +cannot expect to take absolutely no thought for the morrow, as is +said in the Gospel, but only not to take too much thought for it; +one cannot give away all to the poor, but one must give away a +certain definite part; one need not aim at virginity, but one must +avoid debauchery; one need not forsake wife and children, but one +must not give too great a place to them in one's heart," and so +on. + +But to speak like this is just like telling a man who is +struggling on a swift river and is directing his course against +the current, that it is impossible to cross the river rowing +against the current, and that to cross it he must float in the +direction of the point he wants to reach. + +In reality, in order to reach the place to which he wants to go, +he must row with all his strength toward a point +much higher up. + +To let go the requirements of the ideal means not only to diminish +the possibility of perfection, but to make an end of the ideal +itself. The ideal that has power over men is not an ideal +invented by someone, but the ideal that every man carries within +his soul. Only this ideal of complete infinite perfection has +power over men, and stimulates them to action. A moderate +perfection loses its power of influencing men's hearts. + +Christ's teaching only has power when it demands absolute +perfection--that is, the fusion of the divine nature which exists +in every man's soul with the will of God--the union of the Son +with the Father. Life according to Christ's teaching consists of +nothing but this setting free of the Son of God, existing in every +man, from the animal, and in bringing him closer to the Father. + +The animal existence of a man does not constitute human life +alone. Life, according to the will of God only, is also not +human life. Human life is a combination of the animal life and +the divine life. And the more this combination approaches to the +divine life, the more life there is in it. + +Life, according to the Christian religion, is a progress toward +the divine perfection. No one condition, according to this +doctrine, can be higher or lower than another. Every condition, +according to this doctrine, is only a particular stage, of no +consequence in itself, on the way toward unattainable perfection, +and therefore in itself it does not imply a greater or lesser +degree of life. Increase of life, according to this, consists in +nothing but the quickening of the progress toward perfection. And +therefore the progress toward perfection of the publican Zaccheus, +of the woman that was a sinner, and of the robber on the cross, +implies a higher degree of life than the stagnant righteousness of +the Pharisee. And therefore for this religion there cannot be +rules which it is obligatory to obey. The man who is at a lower +level but is moving onward toward perfection is living a more +moral, a better life, is more fully carrying out Christ's +teaching, than the man on a much higher level of morality who is +not moving onward toward perfection. + +It is in this sense that the lost sheep is dearer to the Father +than those that were not lost. The prodigal son, the piece of +money lost and found again, were more precious than those that +were not lost. + +The fulfillment of Christ's teaching consists in moving away from +self toward God. It is obvious that there cannot be definite laws +and rules for this fulfillment of the teaching. Every degree of +perfection and every degree of imperfection are equal in it; no +obedience to laws constitutes a fulfillment of this doctrine, and +therefore for it there can be no binding rules and laws. + +From this fundamental distinction between the religion of Christ +and all preceding religions based on the state conception of life, +follows a corresponding difference in the special precepts of the +state theory and the Christian precepts. The precepts of the +state theory of life insist for the most part on certain practical +prescribed acts, by which men are justified and secure of being +right. The Christian precepts (the commandment of love is not a +precept in the strict sense of the word, but the expression of the +very essence of the religion) are the five commandments of the +Sermon on the Mount--all negative in character. They show only +what at a certain stage of development of humanity men may not do. + +These commandments are, as it were, signposts on the endless road +to perfection, toward which humanity is moving, showing the point +of perfection which is possible at a certain period in the +development of humanity. + +Christ has given expression in the Sermon on the Mount to the +eternal ideal toward which men are spontaneously struggling, and +also the degree of attainment of it to which men may reach in our +times. + +The ideal is not to desire to do ill to anyone, not to provoke ill +will, to love all men. The precept, showing the level below which +we cannot fall in the attainment of this ideal, is the prohibition +of evil speaking. And that is the first command. + +The ideal is perfect chastity, even in thought. The precept, +showing the level below which we cannot fall in the attainment of +this ideal, is that of purity of married life, avoidance of +debauchery. That is the second command. + +The ideal is to take no thought for the future, to live in the +present moment. The precept, showing the level below which we +cannot fall, is the prohibition of swearing, of promising anything +in the future. And that is the third command. + +The ideal is never for any purpose to use force. The precept, +showing the level below which we cannot fall is that of returning +good for evil, being patient under wrong, giving the cloak also. +That is the fourth command. + +The ideal is to love the enemies who hate us. The precept, +showing the level below which we cannot fall, is not to do evil to +our enemies, to speak well of them, and to make no difference +between them and our neighbors. + +All these precepts are indications of what, on our journey to +perfection, we are already fully able to avoid, and what we must +labor to attain now, and what we ought by degrees to translate +into instinctive and unconscious habits. But these precepts, far +from constituting the whole of Christ's teaching and exhausting +it, are simply stages on the way to perfection. These precepts +must and will be followed by higher and higher precepts on the way +to the perfection held up by the religion. + +And therefore it is essentially a part of the Christian religion +to make demands higher than those expressed in its precepts; and +by no means to diminish the demands either of the ideal itself, or +of the precepts, as people imagine who judge it from the +standpoint of the social conception of life. + +So much for one misunderstanding of the scientific men, in +relation to the import and aim of Christ's teaching. Another +misunderstanding arising from the same source consists in +substituting love for men, the service of humanity, for the +Christian principles of love for God and his service. + +The Christian doctrine to love God and serve him, and only as a +result of that love to love and serve one's neighbor, seems to +scientific men obscure, mystic, and arbitrary. And they would +absolutely exclude the obligation of love and service of God, +holding that the doctrine of love for men, for humanity alone, is +far more clear, tangible, and reasonable. + +Scientific men teach in theory that the only good and rational +life is that which is devoted to the service of the whole of +humanity. That is for them the import of the Christian doctrine, +and to that they reduce Christ's teaching. They seek confirmation +of their own doctrine in the Gospel, on the supposition that the +two doctrines are really the same. + +This idea is an absolutely mistaken one. The Christian doctrine +has nothing in common with the doctrine of the Positivists, +Communists, and all the apostles of the universal brotherhood of +mankind, based on the general advantage of such a brotherhood. +They differ from one another especially in Christianity's having a +firm and clear basis in the human soul, while love for humanity is +only a theoretical deduction from analogy. + +The doctrine of love for humanity alone is based on the social +conception of life. + +The essence of the social conception of life consists in the +transference of the aim of the individual life to the life of +societies of individuals: family, clan, tribe, or state. This +transference is accomplished easily and naturally in its earliest +forms, in the transference of the aim of life from the individual +to the family and the clan. The transference to the tribe or the +nation is more difficult and requires special training. And the +transference of the sentiment to the state is the furthest limit +which the process can reach. + +To love one's self is natural to everyone, and no one needs any +encouragement to do so. To love one's clan who support and +protect one, to love one's wife, the joy and help of one's +existence, one's children, the hope and consolation of one's life, +and one's parents, who have given one life and education, is +natural. And such love, though far from being so strong as love +of self, is met with pretty often. + +To love--for one's own sake, through personal pride--one's tribe, +one's nation, though not so natural, is nevertheless common. Love +of one's own people who are of the same blood, the same tongue, +and the same religion as one's self is possible, though far from +being so strong as love of self, or even love of family or clan. +But love for a state, such as Turkey, Germany, England, Austria, +or Russia is a thing almost impossible. And though it is +zealously inculcated, it is only an imagined sentiment; it has no +existence in reality. And at that limit man's power of +transferring his interest ceases, and he cannot feel any direct +sentiment for that fictitious entity. The Positivists, however, +and all the apostles of fraternity on scientific principles, +without taking into consideration the weakening of sentiment in +proportion to the extension of its object, draw further deductions +in theory in the same direction. "Since," they say, "it was for +the advantage of the individual to extend his personal interest to +the family, the tribe, and subsequently to the nation and the +state, it would be still more advantageous to extend his interest +in societies of men to the whole of mankind, and so all to live +for humanity just as men live for the family or the state." + +Theoretically it follows, indeed, having extended the love and +interest for the personality to the family, the tribe, and thence +to the nation and the state, it would be perfectly logical for men +to save themselves the strife and calamities which result from the +division of mankind into nations and states by extending their +love to the whole of humanity. This would be most logical, and +theoretically nothing would appear more natural to its advocates, +who do not observe that love is a sentiment which may or may not +he felt, but which it is useless to advocate; and moreover, that +love must have an object, and that humanity is not an object. It +is nothing but a fiction. + +The family, the tribe, even the state were not invented by men, +but formed themselves spontaneously, like ant-hills or swarms of +bees, and have a real existence. The man who, for the sake of his +own animal personality, loves his family, knows whom he loves: +Anna, Dolly, John, Peter, and so on. The man who loves his tribe +and takes pride in it, knows that he loves all the Guelphs or all +the Ghibellines; the man who loves the state knows that he loves +France bounded by the Rhine, and the Pyrenees, and its principal +city Paris, and its history and so on. But the man who loves +humanity--what does he love? There is such a thing as a state, as +a nation; there is the abstract conception of man; but humanity as +a concrete idea does not, and cannot exist. + +Humanity! Where is the definition of humanity? Where does it end +and where does it begin? Does humanity end with the savage, the +idiot, the dipsomaniac, or the madman? If we draw a line +excluding from humanity its lowest representatives, where are we +to draw the line? Shall we exclude the negroes like the +Americans, or the Hindoos like some Englishmen, or the Jews like +some others? If we include all men without exception, why should +we not include also the higher animals, many of whom are superior +to the lowest specimens of the human race. + +We know nothing of humanity as an eternal object, and we know +nothing of its limits. Humanity is a fiction, and it is +impossible to love it. It would, doubtless, be very advantageous +if men could love humanity just as they love their family. It +would be very advantageous, as Communists advocate, to replace the +competitive, individualistic organization of men's activity by a +social universal organization, so that each would be for all and +all for each. + +Only there are no motives to lead men to do this. The +Positivists, the Communists, and all the apostles of fraternity on +scientific principles advocate the extension to the whole of +humanity of the love men feel for themselves, their families, and +the state. They forget that the love which they are discussing is +a personal love, which might expand in a rarefied form to embrace +a man's native country, but which disappears before it can embrace +an artificial state such as Austria, England, or Turkey, and which +we cannot even conceive of in relation to all humanity, an +absolutely mystic conception. + +"A man loves himself (his animal personality), he loves his +family, he even loves his native country. Why should he not love +humanity? That would be such an excellent thing. And by the way, +it is precisely what is taught by Christianity." So think the +advocates of Positivist, Communistic, or Socialistic fraternity. + +It would indeed be an excellent thing. But it can never be, for +the love that is based on a personal or social conception of life +can never rise beyond love for the state. + +The fallacy of the argument lies in the fact that the social +conception of life, on which love for family and nation is +founded, rests itself on love of self, and that love grows weaker +and weaker as it is extended from self to family, tribe, +nationality, and slate; and in the state we reach the furthest +limit beyond which it cannot go. + +The necessity of extending the sphere of love is beyond dispute. +But in reality the possibility of this love is destroyed by the +necessity of extending its object indefinitely. And thus the +insufficiency of personal human love is made manifest. + +And here the advocates of Positivist, Communistic, Socialistic +fraternity propose to draw upon Christian love to make up the +default of this bankrupt human love; but Christian love only in +its results, not in its foundations. They propose love for +humanity alone, apart from love for God. + +But such a love cannot exist. There is no motive to produce it. +Christian love is the result only of the Christian conception of +life, in which the aim of life is to love and serve God. + +The social conception of life has led men, by a natural transition +from love of self and then of family, tribe, nation, and state, to +a consciousness of the necessity of love for humanity, a +conception which has no definite limits and extends to all living +things. And this necessity for love of what awakens no kind of +sentiment in a man is a contradiction which cannot be solved by +the social theory of life. + +The Christian doctrine in its full significance can alone solve +it, by giving a new meaning to life. Christianity recognizes love +of self, of family, of nation, and of humanity, and not only of +humanity, but of everything living, everything existing; it +recognizes the necessity of an infinite extension of the sphere of +love. But the object of this love is not found outside self in +societies of individuals, nor in the external world, but within +self, in the divine self whose essence is that very love, which +the animal self is brought to feel the need of through its +consciousness of its own perishable nature. + +The difference between the Christian doctrine and those which +preceded it is that the social doctrine said: "Live in opposition +to your nature [understanding by this only the animal nature], +make it subject to the external law of family, society, and +state." Christianity says: "Live according to your nature +[understanding by this the divine nature]; do not make it subject +to anything--neither you (an animal self) nor that of others--and +you will attain the very aim to which you are striving when you +subject your external self." + +The Christian doctrine brings a man to the elementary +consciousness of self, only not of the animal self, but of the +divine self, the divine spark, the self as the Son of God, as much +God as the Father himself, though confined in an animal husk. The +consciousness of being the Son of God, whose chief characteristic +is love, satisfies the need for the extension of the sphere of +love to which the man of the social conception of life had been +brought. For the latter, the welfare of the personality demanded +an ever-widening extension of the sphere of love; love was a +necessity and was confined to certain objects--self, family, +society. With the Christian conception of life, love is not a +necessity and is confined to no object; it is the essential +faculty of the human soul. Man loves not because it is his +interest to love this or that, but because love is the essence of +his soul, because he cannot but love. + +The Christian doctrine shows man that the essence of his soul is +love--that his happiness depends not on loving this or that +object, but on loving the principle of the whole--God, whom he +recognizes within himself as love, and therefore he loves all +things and all men. + +In this is the fundamental difference between the Christian +doctrine and the doctrine of the Positivists, and all the +theorizers about universal brotherhood on non-Christian +principles. + +Such are the two principal misunderstandings relating to the +Christian religion, from which the greater number of false +reasonings about it proceed. The first consists in the belief +that Christ's teaching instructs men, like all previous religions, +by rules, which they are bound to follow, and that these rules +cannot be fulfilled. The second is the idea that the whole +purport of Christianity is to teach men to live advantageously +together, as one family, and that to attain this we need only +follow the rule of love to humanity, dismissing all thought of +love of God altogether. + +The mistaken notion of scientific men that the essence of +Christianity consists in the supernatural, and that its moral +teaching is impracticable, constitutes another reason +of the failure of men of the present day to understand +Christianity. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +CONTRADICTION BETWEEN OUR LIFE AND OUR CHRISTIAN CONSCIENCE. + +Men Think they can Accept Christianity without Altering their +Life--Pagan Conception of Life does not Correspond with Present +Stage of Development of Humanity, and Christian Conception +Alone Can Accord with it--Christian Conception of Life not yet +Understood by Men, but the Progress of Life itself will Lead +them Inevitably to Adopt it--The Requirements of a New Theory +of Life Always Seem Incomprehensible, Mystic, and Supernatural +--So Seem the Requirements of the Christian Theory of Life to +the Majority of Men--The Absorption of the Christian Conception +of Life will Inevitably be Brought About as the Result of +Material and Spiritual Causes--The Fact of Men Knowing the +Requirements of the Higher View of Life, and yet Continuing to +Preserve Inferior Organizations of Life, Leads to +Contradictions and Sufferings which Embitter Existence and Must +Result in its Transformation--The Contradictions of our Life-- +The Economic Contradiction and the Suffering Induced by it for +Rich and Poor Alike--The Political Contradiction and the +Sufferings Induced by Obedience to the Laws of the State--The +International Contradiction and the Recognition of it by +Contemporaries: Komarovsky, Ferri, Booth, Passy, Lawson, +Wilson, Bartlett, Defourney, Moneta--The Striking Character of +the Military Contradiction. + + +There are many reasons why Christ's teaching is not understood. +One reason is that people suppose they have understood it when +they have decided, as the Churchmen do, that it was revealed by +supernatural means, or when they have studied, as the scientific +men do, the external forms in which it has been manifested. +Another reason is the mistaken notion that it is impracticable, +and ought to be replaced by the doctrine of love for humanity. +But the principal reason, which is the source of all the other +mistaken ideas about it, is the notion that Christianity is a +doctrine which can be accepted or rejected without any change of +life. + +Men who are used to the existing order of things, who like it and +dread its being changed, try to take the doctrine as a collection +of revelations and rules which one can accept without their +modifying one's life. While Christ's teaching is not only a +doctrine which gives rules which a man must follow, it unfolds a +new meaning in life, and defines a whole world of human activity +quite different from all that has preceded it and appropriate to +the period on which man is entering. + +The life of humanity changes and advances, like the life of the +individual, by stages, and every stage has a theory of life +appropriate to it, which is inevitably absorbed by men. Those who +do not absorb it consciously, absorb it unconsciously. It is the +same with the changes in the beliefs of peoples and of all +humanity as it is with the changes of belief of individuals. If +the father of a family continues to be guided in his conduct by +his childish conceptions of life, life becomes so difficult for +him that he involuntarily seeks another philosophy and readily +absorbs that which is appropriate to his age. + +That is just what is happening now to humanity at this time of +transition through which we are passing, from the pagan conception +of life to the Christian. The socialized man of the present day +is brought by experience of life itself to the necessity of +abandoning the pagan conception of life, which is inappropriate to +the present stage of humanity, and of submitting to the obligation +of the Christian doctrines, the truths of which, however corrupt +and misinterpreted, are still known to him, and alone offer him a +solution of the contradictions surrounding him. + +If the requirements of the Christian doctrine seem strange and +even alarming to the than of the social theory of life, no less +strange, incomprehensible, and alarming to the savage of ancient +times seemed the requirements of the social doctrine when it was +not fully understood and could not be foreseen in its results. + +"It is unreasonable," said the savage, "to sacrifice my peace of +mind or my life in defense of something incomprehensible, +impalpable, and conventional--family, tribe, or nation; and above +all it is unsafe to put oneself at the disposal of the power of +others." + +But the time came when the savage, on one hand, felt, though +vaguely, the value of the social conception of life, and of its +chief motor power, social censure, or social approbation--glory, +and when, on the other hand, the difficulties of his personal life +became so great that he could not continue to believe in the value +of his old theory of life. Then he accepted the social, state +theory of life and submitted to it. + +That is just what the man of the social theory of life is passing +through now. + +"It is unreasonable," says the socialized man, "to sacrifice my +welfare and that of my family and my country in order to fulfill +some higher law, which requires me to renounce my most natural and +virtuous feelings of love of self, of family, of kindred, and of +country; and above all, it is unsafe to part with the security of +life afforded by the organization of government." + +But the time is coming when, on one hand, the vague consciousness +in his soul of the higher law, of love to God and his neighbor, +and, on the other hand, the suffering, resulting from the +contradictions of life, will force the man to reject the social +theory and to assimilate the new one prepared ready for him, which +solves all the contradictions and removes all his sufferings--the +Christian theory of life. And this time has now come. + +We, who thousands of years ago passed through the transition, from +the personal, animal view of life to the socialized view, imagine +that that transition was an inevitable and natural one; but this +transition though which we have been passing for the last eighteen +hundred years seems arbitrary, unnatural, and alarming. But we +only fancy this because that first transition has been so fully +completed that the practice attained by it has become unconscious +and instinctive in us, while the present transition is not yet +over and we have to complete it consciously. + +It took ages, thousands of years, for the social conception of +life to permeate men's consciousness. It went through various +forms and has now passed into the region of the instinctive +through inheritance, education, and habit. And therefore it seems +natural to us. But five thousand years ago it seemed as unnatural +and alarming to men as the Christian doctrine in its true sense +seems to-day. + +We think to-day that the requirements of the Christian doctrine-- +of universal brotherhood, suppression of national distinctions, +abolition of private property, and the strange injunction of non- +resistance to evil by force--demand what is impossible. But it +was just the same thousands of years ago, with every social or +even family duty, such as the duty of parents to support their +children, of the young to maintain the old, of fidelity in +marriage. Still more strange, and even unreasonable, seemed the +state duties of submitting to the appointed authority, and paying +taxes, and fighting in defense of the country, and so on. All +such requirements seem simple, comprehensible, and natural to us +to-day, and we see nothing mysterious or alarming in them. But +three or five thousand years ago they seemed to require what was +impossible. + +The social conception of life served as the basis of religion +because at the time when it was first presented to men it seemed +to them absolutely incomprehensible, mystic, and supernatural. +Now that we have outlived that phase of the life of humanity, we +understand the rational grounds for uniting men in families, +communities, and states. But in antiquity the duties involved by +such association were presented under cover of the supernatural +and were confirmed by it. + +The patriarchal religions exalted the family, the tribe, the +nation. State religions deified emperors and states. Even now +most ignorant people--like our peasants, who call the Tzar an +earthly god--obey state laws, not through any rational recognition +of their necessity, nor because they have any conception of the +meaning of state, but through a religious sentiment. + +In precisely the same way the Christian doctrine is presented to +men of the social or heathen theory of life to-day, in the guise +of a supernatural religion, though there is in reality nothing +mysterious, mystic, or supernatural about it. It is simply the +theory of life which is appropriate to the present degree of +material development, the present stage of growth of humanity, and +which must therefore inevitably be accepted. + +The time will come--it is already coming--when the Christian +principles of equality and fraternity, community of property, non- +resistance of evil by force, will appear just as natural and +simple as the principles of family or social life seem to us now. + +Humanity can no more go backward in its development than the +individual man. Men have outlived the social, family, and state +conceptions of life. Now they must go forward and assimilate the +next and higher conception of life, which is what is now taking +place. This change is brought about in two ways: consciously +through spiritual causes, and unconsciously through material +causes. + +Just as the individual man very rarely changes his way of life at +the dictates of his reason alone, but generally continues to live +as before, in spite of the new interests and aims revealed to him +by his reason, and only alters his way of living when it has +become absolutely opposed to his conscience, and consequently +intolerable to him; so, too, humanity, long after it has learnt +through its religions the new interests and aims of life, toward +which it must strive, continues in the majority of its +representatives to live as before, and is only brought to accept +the new conception by finding it impossible to go on living its +old life as before. + +Though the need of a change of life is preached by the religious +leaders and recognized and realized by the most intelligent men, +the majority, in spite of their reverential attitude to their +leaders, that is, their faith in their teaching, continue to be +guided by the old theory of life in their present complex +existence. As though the father of a family, knowing how he ought +to behave at his age, should yet continue through habit and +thoughtlessness to live in the same childish way as he did in +boyhood. + +That is just what is happening in the transition of humanity from +one stage to another, through which we are passing now. Humanity +has outgrown its social stage and has entered upon a new period. +It recognizes the doctrine which ought to be made the basis of +life in this new period. But through inertia it continues to keep +up the old forms of life. From this inconsistency between the new +conception of life and practical life follows a whole succession +of contradictions and sufferings which embitter our life and +necessitate its alteration. + +One need only compare the practice of life with the theory of it, +to be dismayed at the glaring antagonism between our conditions of +life and our conscience. + +Our whole life is in flat contradiction with all we know, and with +all we regard as necessary and right. This contradiction runs +through everything, in economic life, in political life, and in +international life. As though the had forgotten what we knew and +put away for a time the principles we believe in (we cannot help +still believing in them because they are the only foundation we +have to base our life on) we do the very opposite of all that our +conscience and our common sense require of us. + +We are guided in economical, political, and international +questions by the principles which were appropriate to men of three +or five thousand years ago, though they are directly opposed to +our conscience and the conditions of life in which we are placed +to-day. + +It was very well for the man of ancient times to live in a society +based on the division of mankind into masters and slaves, because +he believed that such a distinction was decreed by God and must +always exist. But is such a belief possible in these days? + +The man of antiquity could believe he had the right to enjoy the +good things of this world at the expense of other men, and to keep +them in misery for generations, since he believed that men came +from different origins, were base or noble in blood, children of +Ham or of Japhet. The greatest sages of the world, the teachers +of humanity, Plato and Aristotle, justified the existence of +slaves and demonstrated the lawfulness of slavery; and even three +centuries ago, the men who described an imaginary society of the +future, Utopia, could not conceive of it without slaves. + +Men of ancient and medieval times believed, firmly believed, that +men are not equal, that the only true men are Persians, or Greeks, +or Romans, or Franks. But we cannot believe that now. And people +who sacrifice themselves for the principles of aristocracy and of +patriotism to-duty, don't believe and can't believe what they +assert. + +We all know and cannot help knowing--even though we may never have +heard the idea clearly expressed, may never have read of it, and +may never have put it into words, still through unconsciously +imbibing the Christian sentiments that are in the air--with our +whole heart we know and cannot escape knowing the fundamental +truth of the Christian doctrine, that we are all sons of one +Father, wherever we may live and whatever language we may speak; +we are all brothers and are subject to the same law of love +implanted by our common Father in our hearts. + +Whatever the opinions and degree of education of a man of to-day, +whatever his shade of liberalism, whatever his school of +philosophy, or of science, or of economics, however ignorant or +superstitious he may be, every man of the present day knows that +all men have an equal right to life and the good things of life, +and that one set of people are no better nor worse than another, +that all are equal. Everyone knows this, beyond doubt; everyone +feels it in his whole being. Yet at the same time everyone sees +all round him the division of men into two castes--the one, +laboring, oppressed, poor, and suffering, the other idle, +oppressing, luxurious, and profligate. And everyone not only sees +this, but voluntarily or involuntarily, in one way or another, he +takes part in maintaining this distinction which his conscience +condemns. And he cannot help suffering from the consciousness of +this contradiction and his share in it. + +Whether he be master or slave, the man of to-day cannot help +constantly feeling the painful opposition between his conscience +and actual life, and the miseries resulting from it. + +The toiling masses, the immense majority of mankind who are +suffering under the incessant, meaningless, and hopeless toil and +privation in which their whole life is swallowed up, still find +their keenest suffering in the glaring contrast between what is +and what ought to be, according to all the beliefs held by +themselves, and those who have brought them to that condition and +keep them in it. + +They know that they are in slavery and condemned to privation and +darkness to minister to the lusts of the minority who keep them +down. They know it, and they say so plainly. And this knowledge +increases their sufferings and constitutes its bitterest sting. + +The slave of antiquity knew that he was a slave by nature, but our +laborer, while he feels he is a slave, knows that he ought not to +be, and so he tastes the agony of Tantalus, forever desiring and +never gaining what might and ought to be his. + +The sufferings of the working classes, springing from the +contradiction between what is and what ought to be, are increased +tenfold by the envy and hatred engendered by their consciousness +of it. + +The laborer of the present day would not cease to suffer even if +his toil were much lighter than that of the slave of ancient +times, even if he gained an eight-hour working day and a wage of +three dollars a day. For he is working at the manufacture of +things which he will not enjoy, working not by his own will for +his own benefit, but through necessity, to satisfy the desires of +luxurious and idle people in general, and for the profit of a +single rich man, the owner of a factory or workshop in particular. +And he knows that all this is going on in a world in which it is a +recognized scientific principle that labor alone creates wealth, +and that to profit by the labor of others is immoral, dishonest, +and punishable by law; in a world, moreover, which professes to +believe Christ's doctrine that we are all brothers, and that true +merit and dignity is to be found in serving one's neighbor, not in +exploiting him. All this he knows, and he cannot but suffer +keenly from the sharp contrast between what is and what ought to +be. + +"According to all principles, according to all I know, and what +everyone professes," the workman says to himself. "I ought to be +free, equal to everyone else, and loved; and I am--a slave, +humiliated and hated." And he too is filled with hatred and tries +to find means to escape from his position, to shake off the enemy +who is over-riding him, and to oppress him in turn. People say, +"Workmen have no business to try to become capitalists, the poor +to try to put themselves in the place of the rich." That is a +mistake. The workingmen and the poor would be wrong if they tried +to do so in a world in which slaves and masters were regarded as +different species created by God; but they are living in a world +which professes the faith of the Gospel, that all are alike sons +of God, and so brothers and equal. And however men may try to +conceal it, one of the first conditions of Christian life is love, +not in words but in deeds. + +The man of the so-called educated classes lives in still more +glaring inconsistency and suffering. Every educated man, if he +believes in anything, believes in the brotherhood of all men, or +at least he has a sentiment of humanity, or else of justice, or +else he believes in science. And all the while he knows that his +whole life is framed on principles in direct opposition to it all, +to all the principles of Christianity, humanity, justice, and +science. + +He knows that all the habits in which he has been brought up, and +which he could not give up without suffering, can only be +satisfied through the exhausting, often fatal, toil of oppressed +laborers, that is, through the most obvious and brutal violation +of the principles of Christianity, humanity, and justice, and even +of science (that is, economic science). He advocates the +principles of fraternity, humanity, justice, and science, and yet +he lives so that he is dependent on the oppression of the working +classes, which he denounces, and his whole life is based on the +advantages gained by their oppression. Moreover he is directing +every effort to maintaining this state of things so flatly opposed +to all his beliefs. + +We are all brothers--and yet every morning a brother or a sister +must empty the bedroom slops for me. We are all brothers, but +every morning I must have a cigar, a sweetmeat, an ice, and such +things, which my brothers and sisters have been wasting their +health in manufacturing, and I enjoy these things and demand them. +We are all brothers, yet I live by working in a bank, or +mercantile house, or shop at making all goods dearer for my +brothers. We are all brothers, but I live on a salary paid me for +prosecuting, judging, and condemning the thief or the prostitute +whose existence the whole tenor of my life tends to bring about, +and who I know ought not to be punished but reformed. We are all +brothers, but I live on the salary I gain by collecting taxes from +needy laborers to be spent on the luxuries of the rich and idle. +We are all brothers, but I take a stipend for preaching a false +Christian religion, which I do not myself believe in, and which +only serve's to hinder men from understanding true Christianity. +I take a stipend as priest or bishop for deceiving men in the +matter of the greatest importance to them. We are all brothers, +but I will not give the poor the benefit of my educational, +medical, or literary labors except for money. We are all +brothers, yet I take a salary for being ready to commit murder, +for teaching men to murder, or making firearms, gunpowder, or +fortifications. + +The whole life of the upper classes is a constant inconsistency. +The more delicate a man's conscience is, the more painful this +contradiction is to him. + +A man of sensitive conscience cannot but suffer if he lives such a +life. The only means by which he can escape from this suffering +is by blunting his conscience, but even if some men succeed in +dulling their conscience they cannot dull their fears. + +The men of the higher dominating classes whose conscience is +naturally not sensitive or has become blunted, if they don't +suffer through conscience, suffer from fear and hatred. They are +bound to suffer. They know all the hatred of them existing, and +inevitably existing in the working classes. They are aware that +the working classes know that they are deceived and exploited, and +that they are beginning to organize themselves to shake off +oppression and revenge themselves on their oppressors. The higher +classes see the unions, the strikes, the May Day Celebrations, and +feel the calamity that is threatening them, and their terror +passes into an instinct of self-defense and hatred. They know +that if for one instant they are worsted in the struggle with +their oppressed slaves, they will perish, because the slaves are +exasperated and their exasperation is growing more intense with +every day of oppression. The oppressors, even if they wished to +do so, could not make an end to oppression. They know that they +themselves will perish directly they even relax the harshness of +their oppression. And they do not relax it, in spite of all their +pretended care for the welfare of the working classes, for the +eight-hour day, for regulation of the labor of minors and of +women, for savings banks and pensions. All that is humbug, or +else simply anxiety to keep the slave fit to do his work. But the +slave is still a slave, and the master who cannot live without a +slave is less disposed to set him free than ever. + +The attitude of the ruling classes to the laborers is that of a +man who has felled his adversary to the earth and holds him down, +not so much because he wants to hold him down, as because he knows +that if he let him go, even for a second, he would himself be +stabbed, for his adversary is infuriated and has a knife in his +hand. And therefore, whether their conscience is tender or the +reverse, our rich men cannot enjoy the wealth they have filched +from the poor as the ancients did who believed in their right to +it. Their whole life and all their enjoyments are embittered +either by the stings of conscience or by terror. + +So much for the economic contradiction. The political +contradiction is even more striking. + +All men are brought up to the habit of obeying the laws of the +state before everything. The whole existence of modern times is +defined by laws. A man marries and is divorced, educates his +children, and even (in many countries) professes his religious +faith in accordance with the law. What about the law then which +defines our whose existence? Do men believe in it? Do they +regard it as good? Not at all. In the majority of cases people +of the present time do not believe in the justice of the law, they +despise it, but still they obey it. It was very well for the +men of the ancient world to observe their laws. They firmly +believed that their law (it was generally of a religious +character) was the only just law, which everyone ought to obey. +But is it so with us? we know and cannot help knowing that the law +of our country is not the one eternal law; that it is only one of +the many laws of different countries, which are equally imperfect, +often obviously wrong and unjust, and are criticised from every +point of view in the newspapers. The Jew might well obey his +laws, since he had not the slightest doubt that God had written +them with his finger; the Roman too might well obey the laws which +he thought had been dictated by the nymph Egeria. Men might well +observe the laws if they believed the Tzars who made them were +God's anointed, or even if they thought they were the work of +assemblies of lawgivers who had the power and the desire to make +them as good as possible. But we all know how our laws are +made. We have all been behind the scenes, we know that they are +the product of covetousness, trickery, and party struggles; that +there is not and cannot be any real justice in them. And so +modern men cannot believe that obedience to civic or political +laws can satisfy the demands of the reason or of human nature. +Men have long ago recognized that it is irrational to obey a law +the justice of which is very doubtful, and so they cannot but +suffer in obeying a law which they do not accept as judicious and +binding. + +A man cannot but suffer when his whole life is defined beforehand +for him by laws, which he must obey under threat of punishment, +though he does not believe in their wisdom or justice, and often +clearly perceives their injustice, cruelty, and artificiality. + +We recognize the uselessness of customs and import duties, and are +obliged to pay them. We recognize the uselessness of the +expenditure on the maintenance of the Court and other members of +Government, and we regard the teaching of the Church as injurious, +but we are obliged to bear our share of the expenses of these +institutions. We regard the punishments inflicted by law as cruel +and shameless, but we must assist in supporting them. We regard +as unjust and pernicious the distribution of landed property, but +we are obliged to submit to it. We see no necessity for wars and +armies, but we must bear terribly heavy burdens in support of +troops and war expenses. + +But this contradiction is nothing in comparison with the +contradiction which confronts us when we turn to international +questions, and which demands a solution, under pain of the loss of +the sanity and even the existence of the human race. That is the +contradiction between the Christian conscience and war. + +We are all Christian nations living the same spiritual life, so +that every noble and pregnant thought, springing up at one end of +the world, is at once communicated to the whole of Christian +humanity and evokes everywhere the same emotion at pride and +rejoicing without distinction of nationalities. We who love +thinkers, philanthropists, poets, and scientific men of foreign +origin, and are as proud of the exploits of Father Damien as if he +were one of ourselves, we, who have a simple love for men of +foreign nationalities, Frenchmen, Germans, Americans, and +Englishmen, who respect their qualities, are glad to meet them and +make them so warmly welcome, cannot regard war with them as +anything heroic. We cannot even imagine without horror the +possibility of a disagreement between these people and ourselves +which would call for reciprocal murder. Yet we are all bound to +take a hand in this slaughter which is bound to come to pass to- +morrow not to-day. + +It was very well for the Jew, the Greek, and the Roman to defend +the independence of his nation by murder. For he piously believed +that his people was the only true, fine, and good people dear to +God, and all the rest were Philistines, barbarians. Men of +medieval times--even up to the end of the last and beginning of +this century--might continue to hold this belief. But however +much we work upon ourselves we cannot believe it. And this +contradiction for men of the present day has become so full of +horror that without its solution life is no longer possible. + +"We live in a time which is full of inconsistencies," writes Count +Komarovsky, the professor of international law, in his learned +treatise. + + "The press of ail countries is continually expressing the + universal desire for peace, and the general sense of its + necessity for all nations. + + "Representatives of governments, private persons, and official + organs say the same thing; it is repeated in parliamentary + debates, diplomatic correspondence, and even in state treaties. + At the same time governments are increasing the strength of + their armies every year, levying fresh taxes, raising loans, + and leaving as a bequest to future generations the duty of + repairing the blunders of the senseless policy of the present. + What a striking contrast between words and deeds! Of course + governments will plead in justification of these measures that + all their expenditure and armament are exclusively for purposes + of defense. But it remains a mystery to every disinterested + man whence they can expect attacks if all the great powers are + single-hearted in their policy, in pursuing nothing but self + defense. In reality it looks as if each of the great powers + were every instant anticipating an attack on the part of the + others. And this results in a general feeling of insecurity + and superhuman efforts on the part of each government to + increase their forces beyond those of the other powers. Such a + competition of itself increases the danger of war. Nations + cannot endure the constant increase of armies for long, and + sooner or later they will prefer war to all the disadvantages + of their present position and the constant menace of war. Then + the most trifling pretext will be sufficient to throw the whole + of Europe into the fire of universal war. And it is a mistaken + idea that such a crisis might deliver us from the political and + economical troubles that are crushing us. The experience of + the wars of latter years teaches us that every war has only + intensified national hatreds, made military burdens more + crushing and insupportable, and rendered the political and + economical grievous and insoluble." + +"Modern Europe keeps under arms an active army of nine millions of +men," writes Enrico Ferri, + + "besides fifteen millions of reserve, with an outlay of four + hundred millions of francs per annum. By continual increase of + the armed force, the sources of social and individual + prosperity are paralyzed, and the state of the modern world may + be compared to that of a man who condemns himself to wasting + from lack of nutrition in order to provide himself with arms, + losing thereby the strength to use the arms he provides, under, + the weight of which he will at last succumb." + +Charles Booth, in his paper read in London before the Association +for the Reform and Codification of the Law of Nations, June 26, +1887, says the same thing. After referring to the same number, +nine millions of the active army and fifteen millions of reserve, +and the enormous expenditure of governments on the support and +arming of these forces, he says: + + "These figures represent only a small part of the real cost, + because besides the recognized expenditure of the war budget of + the various nations, we ought also to take into account the + enormous loss to society involved in withdrawing from it such + an immense number of its most vigorous men, who are taken from + industrial pursuits and every kind of labor, as well as the + enormous interest on the sums expended on military preparations + without any return. The inevitable result of this expenditure + on war and preparations for war is a continually growing + national debt. The greater number of loans raised by the + governments of Europe were with a view to war. Their total sum + amounts to four hundred millions sterling, and these debts are + increasing every year." + +The same Professor Komarovsky says in another place: + + "We live in troubled times. Everywhere we hear complaints of + the depression of trade and manufactures, and the wretchedness + of the economic position generally, the miserable conditions of + existence of the working classes, and the universal + impoverishment of the masses. But in spite of this, governments + in their efforts to maintain their independence rush to the + greatest extremes of senselessness. New taxes and duties are + being devised everywhere, and the financial oppression of the + nations knows no limits. If we glance at the budgets of the + states of Europe for the last hundred years, what strikes us + most of all is their rapid and continually growing increase. + + "How can we explain this extraordinary phenomenon which sooner + or later threatens us all with inevitable bankruptcy? + + "It is caused beyond dispute by the expenditure for the + maintenance of armaments which swallows up a third and even a + half of all the expenditure of European states. And the most + melancholy thing is that one can foresee no limit to this + augmentation of the budget and impoverishment of the masses. + What is socialism but a protest against this abnormal position + in which the greater proportion of the population of our world + is placed? + +"We are ruining ourselves," says Frederick Passy in a letter read +before the last Congress of Universal Peace (in 1890) in London, + + "we are ruining ourselves in order to be able to take part in + the senseless wars of the future or to pay the interest on + debts we have incurred by the senseless and criminal wars of + the past. We are dying of hunger so as to secure the means of + killing each other." + +Speaking later on of the way the subject is looked at in France, +he says: + + "We believe that, a hundred years after the Declaration of the + Rights of Man and of the citizen, the time has come to + recognize the rights of nations and to renounce at once and + forever all those undertakings based on fraud and force, which, + under the name of conquests, are veritable crimes against + humanity, and which, whatever the vanity of monarchs and the + pride of nations may think of them, only weaken even those who + are triumphant over them." + +"I am surprised at the way religion is carried on in this +country," said Sir Wilfrid Lawson at the same congress. + + "You send a boy to Sunday school, and you tell him: 'Dear boy, + you must love your enemies. If another boy strikes you, you + mustn't hit him back, but try to reform him by loving him.' + Well. The boy stays in the Sunday school till he is fourteen + or fifteen, and then his friends send him into the army. What + has he to do in the army? He certainly won't love his enemy; + quite the contrary, if he can only get at him, he will run him + through with his bayonet. That is the nature of all religious + teaching in this country. I do not think that that is a very + good way of carrying out the precepts of religion. I think if + it is a good thing for a boy to love his enemy, it is good for + a grown-up man." + +"There are in Europe twenty-eight millions of men under arms," +says Wilson, + + "to decide disputes, not by discussion, but by murdering one + another. That is the accepted method for deciding disputes + among Christian nations. This method is, at the same time, + very expensive, for, according to the statistics I have read, + the nations of Europe spent in the year 1872 a hundred and + fifty millions sterling on preparations for deciding disputes + by means of murder. It seems to me, therefore, that in such a + state of things one of two alternatives must be admitted: + either Christianity is a failure, or those who have undertaken + to expound it have failed in doing so. Until our warriors are + disarmed and our armies disbanded, the have not the right to + call ourselves a Christian nation." + +In a conference on the subject of the duty of Christian ministers +to preach against war, G. D. Bartlett said among other things: + + "If I understand the Scriptures, I say that men are only + playing with Christianity so long as they ignore the question + of war. I have lived a longish life and have heard our + ministers preach on universal peace hardly half a dozen times. + Twenty years ago, in a drawing room, I dared in the presence of + forty persons to moot the proposition that war was incompatible + with Christianity; I was regarded as an arrant fanatic. The + idea that we could get on without war was regarded as + unmitigated weakness and folly." + +The Catholic priest Defourney has expressed himself in the same +spirit. "One of the first precepts of the eternal law inscribed +in the consciences of all men," says the Abby Defourney, + + "is the prohibition of taking the life or shedding the blood of + a fellow-creature without sufficient cause, without being + forced into the necessity of it. This is one of the + commandments which is most deeply stamped in the heart of man. + But so soon as it is a question of war, that is, of shedding + blood in torrents, men of the present day do not trouble + themselves about a sufficient cause. Those who take part in + wars do not even think of asking themselves whether there is + any justification for these innumerable murders, whether they + are justifiable or unjustifiable, lawful or unlawful, innocent + or criminal; whether they are breaking that fundamental + commandment that forbids killing without lawful cause. + But their conscience is mute. War has ceased to be something + dependent on moral considerations. In warfare men have in all + the toil and dangers they endure no other pleasure than that of + being conquerors, no sorrow other than that of being conquered. + Don't tell me that they are serving their country. A great + genius answered that long ago in the words that have become a + proverb: 'Without justice, what is an empire but a great band + of brigands?' And is not every band of brigands a little + empire? They too have their laws; and they too make war to + gain booty, and even for honor. + + "The aim of the proposed institution [the institution of an + international board of arbitration] is that the nations of + Europe may cease to be nations of robbers, and their armies, + bands of brigands. And one must add, not only brigands, but + slaves. For our armies are simply gangs of slaves at the + disposal of one or two commanders or ministers, who exercise a + despotic control over them without any real responsibility, as + we very well know. + + "The peculiarity of a slave is that he is a mere tool in the + hands of his master, a thing, not a man. That is just what + soldiers, officers, and generals are, going to murder and be + murdered at the will of a ruler or rulers. Military slavery is + an actual fact, and it is the worst form of slavery, especially + now when by means of compulsory service it lays its fetters on + the necks of all the strong and capable men of a nation, to + make them instruments of murder, butchers of human flesh, for + that is all they are taken and trained to do. + + "The rulers, two or three in number, meet together in cabinets, + secretly deliberate without registers, without publicity, and + consequently without responsibility, and send men to be + murdered." + +"Protests against armaments, burdensome to the people, have not +originated in our times," says Signor E. G. Moneta. + + "Hear what Montesquieu wrote in his day. 'France [and one + might say, Europe] will be ruined by soldiers. A new plague is + spreading throughout Europe. It attacks sovereigns and forces + them to maintain an incredible number of armed men. This + plague is infectious and spreads, because directly one + government increases its armament, all the others do likewise. + So that nothing is gained by it but general ruin. + + "'Every government maintains as great an army as it possibly + could maintain if its people were threatened with + extermination, and people call peace this state of tension of + all against all. And therefore Europe is so ruined that if + private persons were in the position of the governments of our + continent, the richest of them would not have enough to live + on. We are poor though we have the wealth and trade of the + whole world.' + + "That was written almost 150 years ago. The picture seems drawn + from the world of to-day. One thing only has changed-the form + of government. In Montesquieu's time it was said that the + cause of the maintenance of great armaments was the despotic + power of kings, who made war in the hope of augmenting by + conquest their personal revenues and gaining glory. People + used to say then: 'Ah, if only people could elect those who + would have the right to refuse governments the soldiers and the + money--then there would be an end to military politics.' Now + there are representative governments in almost the whole of + Europe, and in spite of that, war expenditures and the + preparations for war have increased to alarming proportions. + + "It is evident that the insanity of sovereigns has gained + possession of the ruling classes. War is not made now because + one king has been wanting in civility to the mistress of + another king, as it was in Louis XIV.'s time. But the natural + and honorable sentiments of national honor and patriotism are + so exaggerated, and the public opinion of one nation so excited + against another, that it is enough for a statement to be made + (even though it may be a false report) that the ambassador of + one state was not received by the principal personage of + another state to cause the outbreak of the most awful and + destructive war there has ever been seen. Europe keeps more + soldiers under arms to-day than in the time of the great + Napoleonic wars. All citizens with few exceptions are forced + to spend some years in barracks. Fortresses, arsenals, and + ships are built, new weapons are constantly being invented, to + be replaced in a short time by fresh ones, for, sad to say, + science, which ought always to be aiming at the good of + humanity, assists in the work of destruction, and is constantly + inventing new means for killing the greatest number of men in + the shortest time. And to maintain so great a multitude of + soldiers and to make such vast preparations for murder, + hundreds of millions are spent annually, sums which would be + sufficient for the education of the people and for immense + works of public utility, and which would make it possible to + find a peaceful solution of the social question. + + "Europe, then, is, in this respect, in spite of all the + conquests of science, in the same position as in the darkest + and most barbarous days of the Middle Ages. All deplore this + state of things--neither peace nor war--and all would be glad + to escape from it. The heads of governments all declare that + they all wish for peace, and vie with one another in the most + solemn protestations of peaceful intentions. But the same day + or the next they will lay a scheme for the increase of the + armament before their legislative assembly, saying that these + are the preventive measures they take for the very purpose of + securing peace. + + "But this is not the kind of peace we want. And the nations + are not deceived by it. True peace is based on mutual + confidence, while these huge armaments show open and utter lack + of confidence, if not concealed hostility, between states. + What should we say of a man who, wanting to show his friendly + feelings for his neighbor, should invite him to discuss their + differences with a loaded revolver in his hand? + + "It is just this flagrant contradiction between the peaceful + professions and the warlike policy of governments which all + good citizens desire to put an end to, at any cost." + +People are astonished that every year there are sixty thousand +cases of suicide in Europe, and those only the recognized and +recorded cases--and excluding Russia and Turkey; but one ought +rather to be surprised that there are so few. Every man of the +present day, if we go deep enough into the contradiction between +his conscience and his life, is in a state of despair. + +Not to speak of all the other contradictions between modern life +and the conscience, the permanently armed condition of Europe +together with its profession of Christianity is alone enough to +drive any man to despair, to doubt of the sanity of mankind, and +to terminate an existence in this senseless and brutal world. +This contradiction, which is a quintessence of all the other +contradictions, is so terrible that to live and to take part in it +is only possible if one does not think of it--if one is able to +forget it. + +What! all of us, Christians, not only profess to love one another, +but do actually live one common life; we whose social existence +beats with one common pulse--we aid one another, learn from one +another, draw ever closer to one another to our mutual happiness, +and find in this closeness the whole meaning of life!--and to- +morrow some crazy ruler will say some stupidity, and another will +answer in the same spirit, and then I must go expose myself to +being murdered, and murder men--who have done me no harm--and more +than that, whom I love. And this is not a remote contingency, but +the very thing we are all preparing for, which is not only +probable, but an inevitable certainty. + +To recognize this clearly is enough to drive a man out of his +senses or to make him shoot himself. And this is just what does +happen, and especially often among military men. A man need only +come to himself for an instant to be impelled inevitably to such +an end. + +And this is the only explanation of the dreadful intensity with +which men of modern times strive to stupefy themselves, with +spirits, tobacco, opium, cards, reading newspapers, traveling, and +all kinds of spectacles and amusements. These pursuits are +followed up as an important, serious business. And indeed they +are a serious business. If there were no external means of +dulling their sensibilities, half of mankind would shoot +themselves without delay, for to live in opposition to one's +reason is the most intolerable condition. And that is the +condition of all men of the present day. All men of the modern +world exist in a state of continual and flagrant antagonism +between their conscience and their way of life. This antagonism +is apparent in economic as well as political life. But most +striking of all is the contradiction between the Christian law of +the brotherhood of men existing in the conscience and the +necessity under which all men are placed by compulsory military +service of being prepared for hatred and murder--of being at the +same time a Christian and a gladiator. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +ATTITUDE OF MEN OF THE PRESENT DAY TO WAR. + +People do not Try to Remove the Contradiction between Life and +Conscience by a Change of Life, but their Cultivated Leaders Exert +Every Effort to Obscure the Demands of Conscience, and justify +their Life; in this Way they Degrade Society below Paganism to a +State of Primeval Barbarism--Undefined Attitude of Modern Leaders +of Thought to War, to Universal Militarism, and to Compulsory +Service in Army--One Section Regards War as an Accidental +Political Phenomenon, to be Avoided by External Measures only-- +Peace Congress--The Article in the REVUE DES REVUES--Proposition +of Maxime du Camp--Value of Boards of Arbitration and Suppression +of Armies--Attitude of Governments to Men of this Opinion and What +they Do--Another Section Regards War as Cruel, but Inevitable-- +Maupassant--Rod--A Third Section Regard War as Necessary, and not +without its Advantages--Doucet-Claretie-Zola-Vogue. + + +The antagonism between life and the conscience may be removed in +two ways: by a change of life or by a change of conscience. And +there would seem there can be no doubt as to these alternatives. + +A man may cease to do what he regards as wrong, but he cannot +cease to consider wrong what is wrong. Just in the same way all +humanity may cease to do what it regards as wrong, but far from +being able to change, it cannot even retard for a time the +continual growth of a clearer recognition of what is wrong and +therefore ought not to be. And therefore it would seem inevitable +for Christian men to abandon the pagan forms of society which they +condemn, and to reconstruct their social existence on the +Christian principles they profess. + +So it would be were it not for the law of inertia, as immutable a +force in men and nations as in inanimate bodies. In men it takes +the form of the psychological principle, so truly expressed in the +words of the Gospel, "They have loved darkness better than light +because their deeds were evil." This principle shows itself in +men not trying to recognize the truth, but to persuade themselves +that the life they are leading, which is what they like and are +used to, is a life perfectly consistent with truth. + +Slavery was opposed to all the moral principles advocated by Plato +and Aristotle, yet neither of them saw that, because to renounce +slavery would have meant the break up of the life they were +living. We see the same thing in our modern world. + +The division of men into two castes, as well as the use of force +in government and war, are opposed to every moral principle +professed by our modern society. Yet the cultivated and advanced +men of the day seem not to see it. + +The majority, if not all, of the cultivated men of our day try +unconsciously to maintain the old social conception of life, which +justifies their position, and to hide from themselves and others +its insufficiency, and above all the necessity of adopting the +Christian conception of life, which will mean the break up of the +whole existing social order. They struggle to keep up the +organization based on the social conception of life, but do not +believe in it themselves, because it is extinct and it is +impossible to believe in it. + +All modern literature--philosophical, political, and artistic--is +striking in this respect. What wealth of idea, of form, of color, +what erudition, what art, but what a lack of serious matter, what +dread of any exactitude of thought or expression! Subtleties, +allegories, humorous fancies, the widest generalizations, but +nothing simple and clear, nothing going straight to the point, +that is, to the problem of life. + +But that is not all; besides these graceful frivolities, our +literature is full of simple nastiness and brutality, of arguments +which would lead men back in the most refined way to primeval +barbarism, to the principles not only of the pagan, but even of +the animal life, which we have left behind us five thousand years +ago. + +And it could not be otherwise. In their dread of the Christian +conception of life which will destroy the social order, which some +cling to only from habit, others also from interest, men cannot +but be thrown back upon the pagan conception of life and the +principles based on it. Nowadays we see advocated not only +patriotism and aristocratic principles just as they were advocated +two thousand years ago, but even the coarsest epicureanism and +animalism, only with this difference, that the men who then +professed those views believed in them, while nowadays even the +advocates of such views do not believe in them, for they have no +meaning for the present day. No one can stand still when the +earth is shaking under his feet. If we do not go forward we must +go back. And strange and terrible to say, the cultivated men of +our day, the leaders of thought, are in reality with their subtle +reasoning drawing society back, not to paganism even, but to a +state of primitive barbarism. + +This tendency on the part of the leading thinkers of the day is +nowhere more apparent than in their attitude to the phenomenon in +which all the insufficiency of the social conception of life is +presented in the most concentrated form--in their attitude, that +is, to war, to the general arming of nations, and to universal +compulsory service. + +The undefined, if not disingenuous, attitude of modern thinkers to +this phenomenon is striking. It takes three forms in cultivated +society. One section look at it as an incidental phenomenon, +arising out of the special political situation of Europe, and +consider that this state of things can be reformed without a +revolution in the whole internal social order of nations, by +external measures of international diplomacy. Another section +regard it as something cruel and hideous, but at the same time +fated and inevitable, like disease and death. A third party with +cool indifference consider war as an inevitable phenomenon, +beneficial in its effects and therefore desirable. + +Men look at the subject from different points of view, but all +alike talk of war as though it were something absolutely +independent of the will of those who take part in it. And +consequently they do not even admit the natural question which +presents itself to every simple man: "How about me--ought I to +take any part in it?" In their view no question of this kind even +exists, and every man, however he may regard war from a personal +standpoint, must slavishly submit to the requirements of the +authorities on the subject. + +The attitude of the first section of thinkers, those who see a way +out of war in international diplomatic measures, is well expressed +in the report of the last Peace Congress in London, and the +articles and letters upon war that appeared in No. 8 of the REVUE +DES REVUES, 1891. The congress after gathering together from +various quarters the verbal and written opinion of learned men +opened the proceedings by a religious service, and after listening +to addresses for five whole days, concluded them by a public +dinner and speeches. They adopted the following resolutions: + + "1. The congress affirms its belief that the brotherhood of man + involves as a necessary consequence a brotherhood of nations. + + "2. The congress recognizes the important influence that + Christianity exercises on the moral and political progress of + mankind, and earnestly urges upon ministers of the Gospel and + other religious teachers the duty of setting forth the + principles of peace and good will toward men. AND IT RECOMMENDS + THAT THE THIRD SUNDAY IN DECEMBER BE SET APART FOR THA + PURPOSE. + + "3. The congress expresses the opinion that all teachers of + history should call the attention of the young to the grave + evils inflicted on mankind in all ages by war, and to the fact + that such war has been waged for most inadequate causes. + + "4. The congress protests against the use of military drill in + schools by way of physical exercise, and suggests the formation + of brigades for saving life rather than of a quasi-military + character; and urges the desirability of impressing on the + Board of Examiners who formulate the questions for examination + the propriety of guiding the minds of children in the + principles of peace. + + "5. The congress holds that the doctrine of the Rights of Man + requires that the aboriginal and weaker races, their + territories and liberties, shall be guarded from injustice and + fraud, and that these races shall be shielded against the vices + so prevalent among the so-called advanced races of men. It + further expresses its conviction that there should be concert + of action among the nations for the accomplishment of these + ends. The congress expresses its hearty appreciation of the + resolutions of the Anti-slavery Conference held recently at + Brussels for the amelioration of the condition of the peoples + of Africa. + + "6. The congress believes that the warlike prejudices and + traditions which are still fostered in the various + nationalities, and the misrepresentations by leaders of public + opinion in legislative assemblies or through the press, are + often indirect causes of war, and that these evils should be + counteracted by the publication of accurate information tending + to the removal of misunderstanding between nations, and + recommends the importance of considering the question of + commencing an international newspaper with such a purpose. + + "7. The congress proposes to the Inter-parliamentary Conference + that the utmost support should be given to every project for + unification of weights and measures, coinage, tariff, postage, + and telegraphic arrangements, etc., which would assist in + constituting a commercial, industrial, and scientific union of + the peoples. + + "8. The congress, in view of the vast social and moral + influence of woman, urges upon every woman to sustain the + things that make for peace, as otherwise she incurs grave + responsibility for the continuance of the systems of + militarism. + + "9. The congress expresses the hope that the Financial Reform + Association and other similar societies in Europe and America + should unite in considering means for establishing equitable + commercial relations between states, by the reduction of import + duties. The congress feels that it can affirm that the whole + of Europe desires peace, and awaits with impatience the + suppression of armaments, which, under the plea of defense, + become in their turn a danger by keeping alive mutual distrust, + and are, at the same time, the cause of that general economic + disturbance which stands in the way of settling in a + satisfactory manner the problems of labor and poverty, which + ought to take precedence of all others. + + "10. The congress, recognizing that a general disarmament would + be the best guarantee of peace and would lead to the solution + of the questions which now most divide states, expresses the + wish that a congress of representatives of all the states of + Europe may be assembled as soon as possible to consider the + means of effecting a gradual general disarmament. + + "11. The congress, in consideration of the fact that the + timidity of a single power might delay the convocation of the + above-mentioned congress, is of opinion that the government + which should first dismiss any considerable number of soldiers + would confer a signal benefit on Europe and mankind, because it + would, by public opinion, oblige other governments to follow + its example, and by the moral force of this accomplished fact + would have increased rather than diminished the conditions of + its national defense. + + "12. The congress, considering the question of disarmament, as + of peace in general, depends on public opinion, recommends the + peace societies, as well as all friends of peace, to be active + in its propaganda, especially at the time of parliamentary + elections, in order that the electors should give their votes + to candidates who are pledged to support Peace, Disarmament, + and Arbitration. + + "13. The congress congratulates the friends of peace on the + resolution adopted by the International American Conference, + held at Washington in April last, by which it was recommended + that arbitration should be obligatory in all controversies, + whatever their origin, except only those which may imperil the + independence of one of the nations involved. + + "14. The congress recommends this resolution to the attention + of European statesmen, and expresses the ardent desire that + similar treaties may speedily be entered into between the other + nations of the world. + + "15. The congress expresses its satisfaction at the adoption by + the Spanish Senate on June 16 last of a project of law + authorizing the government to negotiate general or special + treaties of arbitration for the settlement of all disputes + except those relating to the independence or internal + government of the states affected; also at the adoption of + resolutions to a like effect by the Norwegian Storthing and by + the Italian Chamber. + + "16. The congress resolves that a committee be appointed to + address communications to the principal political, religious, + commercial, and labor and peace organizations, requesting them + to send petitions to the governmental authorities praying that + measures be taken for the formation of suitable tribunals for + the adjudicature of international questions so as to avoid the + resort to war. + + "17. Seeing (1) that the object pursued by all peace societies + is the establishment of judicial order between nations, and (2) + that neutralization by international treaties constitutes a + step toward this judicial state and lessens the number of + districts in which war can be carried on, the congress + recommends a larger extension of the rule of neutralization, + and expresses the wish, (1) that all treaties which at present + assure to certain states the benefit of neutrality remain in + force, or if necessary be amended in a manner to render the + neutrality more effective, either by extending neutralization + to the whole of the state or by ordering the demolition of + fortresses, which constitute rather a peril than a guarantee + for neutrality; (2) that new treaties in harmony with the + wishes of the populations concerned be concluded for + establishing the neutralization of other states. + + "18. The sub-committee proposes, (1) that the annual Peace + Congress should be held either immediately before the meeting + of the annual Sub-parliamentary Conference, or immediately + after it in the same town; (2) that the question of an + international peace emblem be postponed SINE DIE; (3) that the + following resolutions be adopted: + + "a. To express satisfaction at the official overtures of the + Presbyterian Church in the United States addressed to the + highest representatives of each church organization in + Christendom to unite in a general conference to promote the + substitution of international arbitration for war. + + "b. To express in the name of the congress its profound + reverence for the memory of Aurelio Saffi, the great Italian + jurist, a member of the committee of the International + League of Peace and Liberty. + + "(4) That the memorial adopted by this congress and + signed by the president to the heads of the civilized states + should, as far as practicable, be presented to each power by + influential deputations. + + "(5) That the following resolutions be adopted: + + "a. A resolution of thanks to the presidents of the various + sittings of the congress. + + "b. A resolution of thanks to the chairman, the secretaries, + and the members of the bureau of the congress. + + "c. A resolution of thanks to the conveners and members of + the sectional committees. + + "d. A resolution of thanks to Rev. Canon Scott Holland, Rev. + Dr. Reuen Thomas, and Rev. J. Morgan Gibbon for their pulpit + addresses before the congress, and also to the authorities + of St. Paul's Cathedral, the City Temple, and Stamford Hill + Congregational Church for the use of those buildings for + public services. + + "e. A letter of thanks to her Majesty for permission to + visit Windror Castle. + + "f. And also a resolution of thanks to the Lord Mayor and + Lady Mayoress, to Mr. Passmore Edwards, and other friends + who have extended their hospitality to the members of the + congress. + + "19. The congress places on record a heartfelt expression of + gratitude to Almighty God for the remarkable harmony and + concord which have characterized the meetings of the assembly, + in which so many men and women of varied nations, creeds, + tongues, and races have gathered in closest co-operation, and + for the conclusion of the labors of the congress; and expresses + its firm and unshaken belief in the ultimate triumph of the + cause of peace and of the principles advocated at these + meetings." + +The fundamental idea of the congress is the necessity (1) of +diffusing among all people by all means the conviction of the +disadvantages of war and the great blessing of peace, and (2) of +rousing governments to the sense of the superiority of +international arbitration over war and of the consequent +advisability and necessity of disarmament. To attain the first +aim the congress has recourse to teachers of history, to women, +and to the clergy, with the advice to the latter to preach on the +evil of war and the blessing of peace every third Sunday in +December. To attain the second object the congress appeals to +governments with the suggestion that they should disband their +armies and replace war by arbitration. + +To preach to men of the evil of war and the blessing of peace! +But the blessing of peace is so well known to men that, ever since +there have been men at all, their best wish has been expressed in +the greeting, "Peace be with you." So why preach about it? + +Not only Christians, but pagans, thousands of years ago, all +recognized the evil of war and the blessing of peace. So that the +recommendation to ministers of the Gospel to preach on the evil of +war and the blessing of peace every third Sunday in December is +quite superfluous. + +The Christian cannot but preach on that subject every day of his +life. If Christians and preachers of Christianity do not do so, +there must be reasons for it. And until these have been removed +no recommendations will be effective. Still less effective will +be the recommendations to governments to disband their armies and +replace them by international boards of arbitration. Governments, +too, know very well the difficulty and the burdensomeness of +raising and maintaining forces, and if in spite of that knowledge +they do, at the cost of terrible strain and effort, raise and +maintain forces, it is evident that they cannot do otherwise, and +the recommendation of the congress can never change it. But the +learned gentlemen are unwilling to see that, and keep hoping to +find a political combination, through which governments shall be +induced to limit their powers themselves. + +"Can we get rid of war"? asks a learned writer in the REVUE DES +REVUES. + + "All are agreed that if it were to break out in Europe, its + consequences would be like those of the great inroads of + barbarians. The existence of whole nationalities would be at + stake, and therefore the war would be desperate, bloody, + atrocious. + + "This consideration, together with the terrible engines of + destruction invented by modern science, retards the moment of + declaring war, and maintains the present temporary situation, + which might continue for an indefinite period, except for the + fearful cost of maintaining armaments which are exhausting the + European states and threatening to reduce nations to a state of + misery hardly less than that of war itself. + + "Struck by this reflection, men of various countries have tried + to find means for preventing, or at least for softening, the + results of the terrible slaughter with which we are threatened. + + "Such are the questions brought forward by the Peace Congress + shortly to be held in Rome, and the publication of a pamphlet, + Sur le Desarmement.' + + "It is unhappily beyond doubt that with the present + organization of the majority of European states, isolated from + one another and guided by distinct interests, the absolute + suppression of war is an illusion with which it would be + dangerous to cheat ourselves. Wiser rules and regulations + imposed on these duels between nations might, however, at least + limit its horrors. + + "It is equally chimerical to reckon on projects of disarmament, + the execution of which is rendered almost impossible by + considerations of a popular character present to the mind of + all our readers. [This probably means that France cannot + disband its army before taking its revenge.] Public opinion is + not prepared to accept them, and moreover, the international + relations between different peoples are not such as to make + their acceptance possible. Disarmament imposed on one nation + by another in circumstances threatening its security would be + equivalent to a declaration of war. + + "However, one may admit that an exchange of ideas between the + nations interested could aid, to a certain degree, in bringing + about the good understanding indispensable to any negotiations, + and would render possible a considerable reduction of the + military expenditure which is crushing the nations of Europe + and greatly hindering the solution of the social question, + which each individually must solve on pain of having internal + war as the price for escaping it externally. + + "We might at least demand the reduction of the enormous + expenses of war organized as it is at present with a view to + the power of invasion within twenty-four hours and a decisive + battle within a week of the declaration of war. + + "We ought to manage so that states could not make the attack + suddenly and invade each other's territories within twenty-four + hours." + +This practical notion has been put forth by Maxime du Camp, and +his article concludes with it. + +The propositions of M. du Camp are as follows: + + 1. A diplomatic congress to be held every year. + + 2. No war to be declared till two months after the incident + which provoked it. (The difficulty here would be to decide + precisely what incident did provoke the war, since whenever war + is declared there are very many such incidents, and one would + have to decide from which to reckon the two months' interval.) + + 3. No war to be declared before it has been submitted to a + plebiscitum of the nations preparing to take part in it. + + 4. No hostilities to be commenced till a month after the + official declaration of war. + +"No war to be declared. No hostilities to be commenced," etc. +But who is to arrange that no war is to be declared? Who is to +compel people to do this and that? Who is to force states to +delay their operations for a certain fixed time? All the other +states. But all these others are also states which want holding +in check and keeping within limits, and forcing, too. Who is to +force them, and how? Public opinion. But if there is a public +opinion which can force governments to delay their operations for +a fixed period, the same public opinion can force governments not +to declare war at all. + +But, it will be replied, there may be such a balance of power, +such a PONDERATION DE FORCES, as would lead states to hold back of +their own accord. Well, that has been tried and is being tried +even now. The Holy Alliance was nothing but that, the League of +Peace was another attempt at the same thing, and so on. + +But, it will be answered, suppose all were agreed. If all were +agreed there would be no more war certainly, and no need for +arbitration either. + +"A court of arbitration! Arbitration shall replace war. Questions +shall be decided by a court of arbitration. The Alabama question +was decided by a court of arbitration, and the question of the +Caroline Islands was submitted to the decision of the Pope. +Switzerland, Belgium, Denmark, and Holland have all declared that +they prefer arbitration to war." + +I dare say Monaco has expressed the same preference. The only +unfortunate thing is that Germany, Russia, Austria, and France +have not so far shown the same inclination. It is amazing how men +can deceive themselves when they find it necessary! Governments +consent to decide their disagreements by arbitration and to +disband their armies! The differences between Russia and Poland, +between England and Ireland, between Austria and Bohemia, between +Turkey and the Slavonic states, between France and Germany, to be +soothed away by amiable conciliation! + +One might as well suggest to merchants and bankers that they +should sell nothing for a greater price than they gave for it, +should undertake the distribution of wealth for no profit, and +should abolish money, as it would thus be rendered unnecessary. + +But since commercial and banking operations consist in nothing but +selling for more than the cost price, this would be equivalent to +an invitation to suppress themselves. It is the same in regard to +governments. To suggest to governments that they should not have +recourse to violence, but should decide their misunderstandings in +accordance with equity, is inviting them to abolish themselves as +rulers, and that no government can ever consent to do. + +The learned men form societies (there are more than a hundred such +societies), assemble in congresses (such as those recently held in +London and Paris, and shortly to be held in Rome), deliver +addresses, eat public dinners and make speeches, publish journals, +and prove by every means possible that the nations forced to +support millions of troops are strained to the furthest limits of +their endurance, that the maintenance of these huge armed forces +is in opposition to all the aims, the interests, and the wishes of +the people, and that it is possible, moreover, by writing numerous +papers, and uttering a great many words, to bring all men into +agreement and to arrange so that they shall have no antagonistic +interests, and then there will be no more war. + +When I was a little boy they told me if I wanted to catch a bird I +must put salt on its tail. I ran after the birds with the salt in +my hand, but I soon convinced myself that if I could put salt on a +bird's tail, I could catch it, and realized that I had been +hoaxed. + +People ought to realize the same fact when they read books and +articles on arbitration and disarmament. + +If one could put salt on a bird's tail, it would be because it +could not fly and there would be no difficulty in catching it. If +the bird had wings and did not want to be caught, it would not let +one put salt on its tail, because the specialty of a bird is to +fly. In precisely the same way the specialty of government is not +to obey, but to enforce obedience. And a government is only a +government so long as it can make itself obeyed, and therefore it +always strives for that and will never willingly abandon its +power. But since it is on the army that the power of government +rests, it will never give up the army, and the use of the army in +war. + +The error arises from the learned jurists deceiving themselves and +others, by asserting that government is not what it really is, one +set of men banded together to oppress another set of men, but, as +shown by science, is the representation of the citizens in their +collective capacity. They have so long been persuading other +people of this that at last they have persuaded themselves of it; +and thus they often seriously suppose that government can be bound +by considerations of justice. But history shows that from Caesar +to Napoleon, and from Napoleon to Bismarck, government is in its +essence always a force acting in violation of justice, and that it +cannot be otherwise. Justice can have no binding force on a ruler +or rulers who keep men, deluded and drilled in readiness for acts +of violence--soldiers, and by means of them control others. And +so governments can never be brought to consent to diminish the +number of these drilled slaves, who constitute their whole power +and importance. + +Such is the attitude of certain learned men to the contradiction +under which our society is being crushed, and such are their +methods of solving it. Tell these people that the whole matter +rests on the personal attitude of each man to the moral and +religious question put nowadays to everyone, the question, that +is, whether it is lawful or unlawful for him to take his share of +military service, and these learned gentlemen will shrug their +shoulders and not condescend to listen or to answer you. The +solution of the question in their idea is to be found in reading +addresses, writing books, electing presidents, vice-presidents, +and secretaries, and meeting and speaking first in one town and +then in another. From all this speechifying and writing it will +come to pass, according to their notions, that governments will +cease to levy the soldiers, on whom their whole strength depends, +will listen to their discourses, and will disband their forces, +leaving themselves without any defense, not only against their +neighbors, but also against their own subjects. As though a band +of brigands, who have some unarmed travelers bound and ready to be +plundered, should be so touched by their complaints of the pain +caused by the cords they are fastened with as to let them go +again. + +Still there are people who believe in this, busy themselves over +peace congresses, read addresses, and write books. And +governments, we may be quite sure, express their sympathy and make +a show of encouraging them. In the same way they pretend to +support temperance societies, while they are living principally on +the drunkenness of the people; and pretend to encourage education, +when their whole strength is based on ignorance; and to support +constitutional freedom, when their strength rests on the absence +of freedom; and to be anxious for the improvement of the condition +of the working classes, when their very existence depends on their +oppression; and to support Christianity, when Christianity +destroys all government. + +To be able to do this they have long ago elaborated methods +encouraging temperance, which cannot suppress drunkenness; methods +of supporting education, which not only fail to prevent ignorance, +but even increase it; methods of aiming at freedom and +constitutionalism, which are no hindrance to despotism; methods of +protecting the working classes, which will not free them from +slavery; and a Christianity, too, they have elaborated, which does +not destroy, but supports governments. + +Now there is something more for the government to encourage-- +peace. The sovereigns, who nowadays take counsel with their +ministers, decide by their will alone whether the butchery of +millions is to be begun this year or next. They know very well +that all these discourses upon peace will not hinder them from +sending millions of men to butchery when it seems good to them. +They listen even with satisfaction to these discourses, encourage +them, and take part in them. + +All this, far from being detrimental, is even of service to +governments, by turning people's attention from the most important +and pressing question: Ought or ought not each man called upon for +military service to submit to serve in the army? + +"Peace will soon be arranged, thanks to alliances and congresses, +to books and pamphlets; meantime go and put on your uniform, and +prepare to cause suffering and to endure it for our benefit," is +the government's line of argument. And the learned gentlemen who +get up congresses and write articles are in perfect agreement with +it. + +This is the attitude of one set of thinkers. And since it is that +most beneficial to governments, it is also the most encouraged by +all intelligent governments. + +Another attitude to war has something tragical in it. There are +men who maintain that the love for peace and the inevitability of +war form a hideous contradiction, and that such is the fate of +man. These are mostly gifted and sensitive men, who see and +realize all the horror and imbecility and cruelty of war, but +through some strange perversion of mind neither see nor seek to +find any way out of this position, and seem to take pleasure in +teasing the wound by dwelling on the desperate position of +humanity. A notable example of such an attitude to war is to be +found in the celebrated French writer Guy de Maupassant. Looking +from his yacht at the drill and firing practice of the French +soldiers the following reflections occur to him: + + "When I think only of this word war, a kind of terror seizes + upon me, as though I were listening to some tale of sorcery, of + the Inquisition, some long past, remote abomination, monstrous, + unnatural. + + "When cannibalism is spoken of, we smile with pride, + proclaiming our superiority to these savages. Which are the + savages, the real savages? Those who fight to eat the + conquered, or those who fight to kill, for nothing but to kill? + + "The young recruits, moving about in lines yonder, are destined + to death like the flocks of sheep driven by the butcher along + the road. They will fall in some plain with a saber cut in the + head, or a bullet through the breast. And these are young men + who might work, be productive and useful. Their fathers are + old and poor. Their mothers, who have loved them for twenty + years, worshiped them as none but mothers can, will learn in + six months' time, or a year perhaps, that their son, their boy, + the big boy reared with so much labor, so much expense, so much + love, has been thrown in a hole like some dead dog, after being + disemboweled by a bullet, and trampled, crushed, to a mass of + pulp by the charges of cavalry. Why have they killed her boy, + her handsome boy, her one hope, her pride, her life? She does + not know. Ah, why? + + "War! fighting! slaughter! massacres of men! And we have now, + in our century, with our civilization, with the spread of + science, and the degree of philosophy which the genius of man + is supposed to have attained, schools for training to kill, to + kill very far off, to perfection, great numbers at once, to + kill poor devils of innocent men with families and without any + kind of trial. + + "AND WHAT IS MOST BEWILDERING IS THAT THE PEOPLE DO NOT RISE + AGAINST THEIR GOVERNMENTS. FOR WHAT DIFFERENCE IS THERE + BETWEEN MONARCHIES AND REPUBLICS? THE MOST BEWILDERING THING + IS THAT THE WHOLE OF SOCIETY IS NOT IN REVOLT AT THE WORD WAR." + + "Ah! we shall always live under the burden of the ancient and + odious customs, the criminal prejudices, the ferocious ideas of + our barbarous ancestors, for we are beasts, and beasts we shall + remain, dominated by instinct and changed by nothing. Would + not any other man than Victor Hugo have been exiled for that + mighty cry of deliverance and truth? 'To-day force is called + violence, and is being brought to judgment; war has been put on + its trial. At the plea of the human race, civilization + arraigns warfare, and draws up the great list of crimes laid at + the charge of conquerors and generals. The nations are coming + to understand that the magnitude of a crime cannot be its + extenuation; that if killing is a crime, killing many can be no + extenuating circumstance; that if robbery is disgraceful, + invasion cannot be glorious. Ah! let us proclaim these + absolute truths; let us dishonor war!' + +"Vain wrath," continues Maupassant, "a poet's indignation. War is +held in more veneration than ever. + + "A skilled proficient in that line, a slaughterer of genius, + Von Moltke, in reply to the peace delegates, once uttered these + strange words: + + "'War is holy, war is ordained of God. It is one of the most + sacred laws of the world. It maintains among men all the great + and noble sentiments--honor, devotion, virtue, and courage, and + saves them in short from falling into the most hideous + materialism.' + + "So, then, bringing millions of men together into herds, + marching by day and by night without rest, thinking of nothing, + studying nothing, learning nothing, reading nothing, being + useful to no one, wallowing in filth, sleeping in mud, living + like brutes in a continual state of stupefaction, sacking + towns, burning villages, ruining whole populations, then + meeting another mass of human flesh, falling upon them, making + pools of blood, and plains of flesh mixed with trodden mire and + red with heaps of corpses, having your arms or legs carried + off, your brains blown out for no advantage to anyone, and + dying in some corner of a field while your old parents, your + wife and children are perishing of hunger--that is what is + meant by not falling into the most hideous materialism! + + "Warriors are the scourge of the world. We struggle against + nature and ignorance and obstacles of all kinds to make our + wretched life less hard. Learned men--benefactors of all-- + spend their lives in working, in seeking what can aid, what be + of use, what can alleviate the lot of their fellows. They + devote themselves unsparingly to their task of usefulness, + making one discovery after another, enlarging the sphere of + human intelligence, extending the bounds of science, adding + each day some new store to the sum of knowledge, gaining each + day prosperity, ease, strength for their country. + + "War breaks out. In six months the generals have destroyed the + work of twenty years of effort, of patience, and of genius. + + "That is what is meant by not falling into the most hideous + materialism. + + "We have seen it, war. "We have seen men turned to brutes, + frenzied, killing for fun, for terror, for bravado, for + ostentation. Then when right is no more, law is dead, every + notion of justice has disappeared. We have seen men shoot + innocent creatures found on the road, and suspected because + they were afraid. We have seen them kill dogs chained at their + masters' doors to try their new revolvers, we have seen them + fire on cows lying in a field for no reason whatever, simply + for the sake of shooting, for a joke. + + "That is what is meant by not falling into the most hideous + materialism. + + "Going into a country, cutting the man's throat who defends his + house because he wears a blouse and has not a military cap on + his head, burning the dwellings of wretched beings who have + nothing to eat, breaking furniture and stealing goods, drinking + the wine found in the cellars, violating the women in the + streets, burning thousands of francs' worth of powder, and + leaving misery and cholera in one's track-- + + "That is what is meant by not falling into the most hideous + materialism. + + "What have they done, those warriors, that proves the least + intelligence? Nothing. What have they invented? Cannons and + muskets. That is all. + + "What remains to us from Greece? Books and statues. Is Greece + great from her conquests or her creations? + + "Was it the invasions of the Persians which saved Greece from + falling into the most hideous materialism? + + "Were the invasions of the barbarians what saved and + regenerated Rome? + + "Was it Napoleon I. who carried forward the great intellectual + movement started by the philosophers of the end of last + century? + + "Yes, indeed, since government assumes the right of + annihilating peoples thus, there is nothing surprising in the + fact that the peoples assume the right of annihilating + governments. + + "They defend themselves. They are right. No one has an + absolute right to govern others. It ought only to be done for + the benefit of those who are governed. And it is as much the + duty of anyone who governs to avoid war as it is the duty of a + captain of a ship to avoid shipwreck. + + "When a captain has let his ship come to ruin, he is judged and + condemned, if he is found guilty of negligence or even + incapacity. + + "Why should not the government be put on its trial after every + declaration of war? IF THE PEOPLE UNDERSTOOD THAT, IF THEY + THEMSELVES PASSED JUDGMENT ON MURDEROUS GOVERNMENTS, IF THEY + REFUSED TO LET THEMSELVES BE KILLED FOR NOTHING, IF THEY WOULD + ONLY TURN THEIR ARMS AGAINST THOSE WHO HAVE GIVEN THEM TO THEM + FOR MASSACRE, ON THAT DAY WAR WOULD BE NO MORE. BUT THAT DAY + WILL NEVER COME" [Footnote: "Sur l'Eau," pp. 71-80]. + +The author sees all the horror of war. He sees that it is caused +by governments forcing men by deception to go out to slaughter and +be slain without any advantage to themselves. And he sees, too, +that the men who make up the armies could turn their arms against +the governments and bring them to judgment. But he thinks that +that will never come to pass, and that there is, therefore, no +escape from the present position. + + "I think war is terrible, but that it is inevitable; that + compulsory military service is as inevitable as death, and that + since government will always desire it, war will always exist." + +So writes this talented and sincere writer, who is endowed with +that power of penetrating to the innermost core of the subjects +which is the essence of the poetic faculty. He brings before us +all the cruelty of the inconsistency between men's moral sense and +their actions, but without trying to remove it; seems to admit +that this inconsistency must exist and that it is the poetic +tragedy of life. + +Another no less gifted writer, Edouard Rod, paints in still more +vivid colors the cruelty and madness of the present state of +things. He too only aims at presenting its tragic features, +without suggesting or forseeing any issue from the position. + + "What is the good of doing anything? What is the good of + undertaking any enterprise? And how are we to love men in + these troubled times when every fresh day is a menace of + danger?...All we have begun, the plans we are developing, our + schemes of work, the little good we may have been able to do, + will it not all be swept away by the tempest that is in + preparation?...Everywhere the earth is shaking under our feet + and storm-clouds are gathering on our horizon which will have + no pity on us. + + "Ah! if all we had to dread were the revolution which is held + up as a specter to terrify us! Since I cannot imagine a + society more detestable than ours, I feel more skeptical than + alarmed in regard to that which will replace it. If I should + have to suffer from the change, I should be consoled by + thinking that the executioners of that day were the victims of + the previous time, and the hope of something better would help + us to endure the worst. But it is not that remote peril which + frightens me. I see another danger, nearer and far more cruel; + more cruel because there is no excuse for it, because it is + absurd, because it can lead to no good. Every day one balances + the chances of war on the morrow, every day they become more + merciless. + + "The imagination revolts before the catastrophe which is coming + at the end of our century as the goal of the progress of our + era, and yet we must get used to facing it. For twenty years + past every resource of science has been exhausted in the + invention of engines of destruction, and soon a few charges of + cannon will suffice to annihilate a whole army. No longer a + few thousands of poor devils, who were paid a price for their + blood, are kept under arms, but whole nations are under arms to + cut each other's throats. They are robbed of their time now + (by compulsory service) that they may be robbed of their lives + later. To prepare them for the work of massacre, their hatred + is kindled by persuading them that they are hated. And + peaceable men let themselves be played on thus and go and fall + on one another with the ferocity of wild beasts; furious troops + of peaceful citizens taking up arms at an empty word of + command, for some ridiculous question of frontiers or colonial + trade interests--Heaven only knows what...They will go like + sheep to the slaughter, knowing all the while where they are + going, knowing that they are leaving their wives, knowing + that their children will want for food, full of misgivings, yet + intoxicated by the fine-sounding lies that are dinned into + their ears. THEY WILL MARCH WITHOUT REVOLT, PASSIVE, + RESIGNED--THOUGH THE NUMBERS AND THE STRENGTH ARE THEIRS, AND + THEY MIGHT, IF THEY KNEW HOW TO CO-OPERATE TOGETHER, ESTABLISH + THE REIGN OF GOOD SENSE AND FRATERNITY, instead of the + barbarous trickery of diplomacy. They will march to battle so + deluded, so duped, that they will believe slaughter to be a + duty, and will ask the benediction of God on their lust for + blood. They will march to battle trampling underfoot the + harvests they have sown, burning the towns they have built-- + with songs of triumph, festive music, and cries of jubilation. + And their sons will raise statues to those who have done most + in their slaughter. + + "The destiny of a whole generation depends on the hour in which + some ill-fated politician may give the signal that will be + followed. We know that the best of us will be cut down and our + work will be destroyed in embryo. WE KNOW IT AND TREMBLE WITH + RAGE, BUT WE CAN DO NOTHING. We are held fast in the toils of + officialdom and red tape, and too rude a shock would be needed + to set us free. We are enslaved by the laws we set up for our + protection, which have become our oppression. WE ARE BUT THE + TOOLS OF THAT AUTOCRATIC ABSTRACTION THE STATE, WHICH ENSLAVES + EACH INDIVIDUAL IN THE NAME OF THE WILL OF ALL, WHO WOULD ALL, + TAKEN INDIVIDUALLY, DESIRE EXACTLY THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT THEY + WILL BE MADE TO DO. + + "And if it were only a generation that must be sacrificed! But + there are graver interests at stake. + + "The paid politicians, the ambitious statesmen, who exploit the + evil passions of the populace, and the imbeciles who are + deluded by fine-sounding phrases, have so embittered national + feuds that the existence of a whole race will be at stake in + the war of the morrow. One of the elements that constitute the + modern world is threatened, the conquered people will be wiped + out of existence, and whichever it may be, we shall see a moral + force annihilated, as if there were too many forces to work for + good--we shall have a new Europe formed on foundations so + unjust, so brutal, so sanguinary, stained with so monstrous a + crime, that it cannot but be worse than the Europe of to-day-- + more iniquitous, more barbarous, more violent. + + "Thus one feels crushed under the weight of an immense + discouragement. We are struggling in a CUL DE SAC with muskets + aimed at us from the housetops. Our labor is like that of + sailors executing their last task as the ship begins to sink. + Our pleasures are those of the condemned victim, who is + offered his choice of dainties a quarter of an hour before his + execution. Thought is paralyzed by anguish, and the most it is + capable of is to calculate--interpreting the vague phrases of + ministers, spelling out the sense of the speeches of + sovereigns, and ruminating on the words attributed to + diplomatists reported on the uncertain authority of the + newspapers--whether it is to be to-morrow or the day after, + this year or the next, that we are to be murdered. So that one + might seek in vain in history an epoch more insecure, more + crushed under the weight of suffering" [footnote: "Le Sens de + la Vie," pp.208-13]. + +Here it is pointed out that the force is in the hands of those who +work their own destruction, in the hands of the individual men who +make up the masses; it is pointed out that the source of the evil +is the government. It would seem evident that the contradiction +between life and conscience had reached the limit beyond which it +cannot go, and after reaching this limit some solution of it must +be found. + +But the author does not think so. He sees in this the tragedy of +human life, and after depicting all the horror of the position he +concludes that human life must be spent in the midst of this +horror. + +So much for the attitude to war of those who regard it as +something tragic and fated by destiny. + +The third category consists of men who have lost all conscience +and, consequently, all common sense and feeling of humanity. + +To this category belongs Moltke, whose opinion has been quoted +above by Maupassant, and the majority of military men, who have +been educated in this cruel superstition, live by it, and +consequently are often in all simplicity convinced that war is not +only an inevitable, but even a necessary and beneficial thing. +This is also the view of some civilians, so-called educated and +cultivated people. + +Here is what the celebrated academician Camille Doucet writes in +reply to the editor of the REVUE DES REVUES, where several letters +on war were published together: + + "Dear Sir: When you ask the least warlike of academicians + whether he is a partisan of war, his answer is known + beforehand. + + "Alas! sir, you yourself speak of the pacific ideal inspiring + your generous compatriots as a dream. + + "During my life I have heard a great many good people protest + against this frightful custom of international butchery, which + all admit and deplore; but how is it to be remedied? + + "Often, too, there have been attempts to suppress dueling; one + would fancy that seemed an easy task: but not at all! All that + has been done hitherto with that noble object has never been + and never will be of use. + + "All the congresses of both hemispheres may vote against war, + and against dueling too, but above all arbitrations, + conventions, and legislations there will always be the personal + honor of individual men, which has always demanded dueling, and + the interests of nations, which will always demand war. + + "I wish none the less from the depths of my heart that the + Congress of Universal Peace may succeed at last in its very + honorable and difficult enterprise. + + "I am, dear sir, etc., + "CAMILLE DOUCET." + +The upshot of this is that personal honor requires men to fight, +and the interests of nations require them to ruin and exterminate +each other. As for the efforts to abolish war, they call for +nothing but a smile. + +The opinion of another well-known academician, Jules Claretie, is +of the same kind. + + "Dear Sir [he writes]: For a man of sense there can be but one + opinion on the subject of peace and war. + + "Humanity is created to live, to live free, to perfect and + ameliorate its fate by peaceful labor. The general harmony + preached by the Universal Peace Congress is but a dream + perhaps, but at least it is the fairest of all dreams. Man is + always looking toward the Promised Land, and there the harvests + are to ripen with no fear of their being torn up by shells or + crushed by cannon wheels...But! Ah! but----since philosophers + and philanthropists are not the controlling powers, it is well + for our soldiers to guard our frontier and homes, and their + arms, skillfully used, are perhaps the surest guarantee of the + peace we all love. + + "Peace is a gift only granted to the strong and the resolute. + + "I am, dear sir, etc., + "JULES CLARETIE." + +The upshot of this letter is that there is no harm in talking +about what no one intends or feels obliged to do. But when it +comes to practice, we must fight. + +And here now is the view lately expressed by the most popular +novelist in Europe, Emile Zola: + + "I regard war as a fatal necessity, which appears inevitable + for us from its close connection with human nature and the + whole constitution of the world. I should wish that war could + be put off for the longest possible time. Nevertheless, the + moment will come when we shall be forced to go to war. I am + considering it at this moment from the standpoint of universal + humanity, and making no reference to our misunderstanding with + Germany--a most trivial incident in the history of mankind. I + say that war is necessary and beneficial, since it seems one of + the conditions of existence for humanity. War confronts us + everywhere, not only war between different races and peoples, + but war too, in private and family life. It seems one of the + principal elements of progress, and every step in advance that + humanity has taken hitherto has been attended by bloodshed. + + "Men have talked, and still talk, of disarmament, while + disarmament is something impossible, to which, even if it were + possible, we ought not to consent. I am convinced that a + general disarmament throughout the world would involve + something like a moral decadence, which would show itself in + general feebleness, and would hinder the progressive + advancement of humanity. A warlike nation has always been + strong and flourishing. The art of war has led to the + development of all the other arts. History bears witness to + it. So in Athens and in Rome, commerce, manufactures, and + literature never attained so high a point of development as + when those cities were masters of the whole world by force of + arms. To take an example from times nearer our own, we may + recall the age of Louis XIV. The wars of the Grand Monarque + were not only no hindrance to the progress of the arts and + sciences, but even, on the contrary, seem to have promoted and + favored their development." + +So war is a beneficial thing! + +But the best expression of this attitude is the view of the most +gifted of the writers of this school, the academician de Vogue. +This is what he writes in an article on the Military Section of +the Exhibition of 1889: + + "On the Esplanade des Invalides, among the exotic and colonial + encampments, a building in a more severe style overawes the + picturesque bazaar; all these fragments of the globe have come + to gather round the Palace of War, and in turn our guests mount + guard submissively before the mother building, but for whom + they would not be here. Fine subject for the antithesis of + rhetoric, of humanitarians who could not fail to whimper over + this juxtaposition, and to say that 'CECI TUERA CELA,' + [footnote: Phrase quoted from Victor-Hugo, "Notre-Dame de + Paris."] that the union of the nations through science and + labor will overcome the instinct of war. Let us leave them to + cherish the chimera of a golden age, which would soon become, + if it could be realized, an age of mud. All history teaches us + that the one is created for the other, that blood is needed to + hasten and cement the union of the nations. Natural science + has ratified in our day the mysterious law revealed to Joseph + de Maistre by the intuition of his genius and by meditation on + fundamental truths; he saw the world redeeming itself from + hereditary degenerations by sacrifice; science shows it + advancing to perfection through struggle and violent selection; + there is the statement of the same law in both, expressed in + different formulas. The statement is disagreeable, no doubt; + but the laws of the world are not made for our pleasure, they + are made for our progress. Let us enter this inevitable, + necessary palace of war; we shall be able to observe there how + the most tenacious of our instincts, without losing any of its + vigor, is transformed and adapted to the varying exigencies of + historical epochs." + +M. de Vogue finds the necessity for war, according to his views, +well expressed by the two great writers, Joseph de Maistre and +Darwin, whose statements he likes so much that he quotes them +again. + + "Dear Sir [he writes to the editor of the REVUE DES REVUES]: + You ask me my view as to the possible success of the Universal + Congress of Peace. I hold with Darwin that violent struggle is + a law of nature which overrules all other laws; I hold with + Joseph de Maistre that it is a divine law; two different ways + of describing the same thing. If by some impossible chance a + fraction of human society--all the civilized West, let us + suppose--were to succeed in suspending the action of this law, + some races of stronger instincts would undertake the task of + putting it into action against us: those races would vindicate + nature's reasoning against human reason; they would be + successful, because the certainty of peace--I do not say PEACE, + I say the CERTAINTY OF PEACE--would, in half a century, + engender a corruption and a decadence more destructive for + mankind than the worst of wars. I believe that we must do with + war--the criminal law of humanity--as with all our criminal + laws, that is, soften them, put them in force as rarely as + possible; use every effort to make their application + unnecessary. But all the experience of history teaches us that + they cannot be altogether suppressed so long as two men are + left on earth, with bread, money, and a woman between them. + + "I should be very happy if the Congress would prove me in + error. But I doubt if it can prove history, nature, and God in + error also. + + "I am, dear sir, etc. + "E. M. DE VOGUE." + +This amounts to saying that history, human nature, and God show us +that so long as there are two men, and bread, money and a woman-- +there will be war. That is to say that no progress will lead men +to rise above the savage conception of life, which regards no +participation of bread, money (money is good in this context) and +woman possible without fighting. + +They are strange people, these men who assemble in Congresses, and +make speeches to show us how to catch birds by putting salt on +their tails, though they must know it is impossible to do it. And +amazing are they too, who, like Maupassant, Rod, and many others, +see clearly all the horror of war, all the inconsistency of men +not doing what is needful, right, and beneficial for them to do; +who lament over the tragedy of life, and do not see that the whole +tragedy is at an end directly men, ceasing to take account of any +unnecessary considerations, refuse to do what is hateful and +disastrous to them. They are amazing people truly, but those who, +like De Vogue and others, who, professing the doctrine of +evolution, regard war as not only inevitable, but beneficial and +therefore desirable--they are terrible, hideous, in their moral +perversion. The others, at least, say that they hate evil, and +love good, but these openly declare that good and evil do not +exist. + +All discussion of the possibility of re-establishing peace instead +of everlasting war--is the pernicious sentimentality of +phrasemongers. There is a law of evolution by which it follows +that I must live and act in an evil way; what is to be done? I am +an educated man, I know the law of evolution, and therefore I will +act in an evil way. "ENTRONS AU PALAIS DE LA GUERRE." There is +the law of evolution, and therefore there is neither good nor +evil, and one must live for the sake of one's personal existence, +leaving the rest to the action of the law of evolution. This is +the last word of refined culture, and with it, of that +overshadowing of conscience which has come upon the educated +classes of our times. The desire of the educated classes to +support the ideas they prefer, and the order of existence based on +them, has attained its furthest limits. They lie, and delude +themselves, and one another, with the subtlest forms of deception, +simply to obscure, to deaden conscience. + +Instead of transforming their life into harmony with their +conscience, they try by every means to stifle its voice. But +it is in darkness that the light begins to shine, and so the +light is rising upon our epoch. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +SIGNIFICANCE OF COMPULSORY SERVICE. + +Universal Compulsory Service is not a Political Accident, but the +Furthest Limit of the Contradiction Inherent in the Social +Conception of Life--Origin of Authority in Society--Basis of +Authority is Physical Violence--To be Able to Perform its Acts +of Violence Authority Needs a Special Organization--The Army-- +Authority, that is, Violence, is the Principle which is +Destroying the Social Conception of Life--Attitude of Authority +to the Masses, that is, Attitude of Government to Working +Oppressed Classes--Governments Try to Foster in Working Classes +the Idea that State Force is Necessary to Defend Them from +External Enemies--But the Army is Principally Needed to Preserve +Government from its own Subjects--The Working Classes--Speech of +M. de Caprivi--All Privileges of Ruling Classes Based on +Violence--The Increase of Armies up to Point of Universal +Service--Universal Compulsory Service Destroys all the +Advantages of Social Life, which Government is Intended to +Preserve--Compulsory Service is the Furthest Limit of +Submission, since in Name of the State it Requires Sacrifice of +all that can be Precious to a Man--Is Government Necessary?--The +Sacrifices Demanded by Government in Compulsory Service have No +Longer any Reasonable Basis--And there is More Advantage to be +Gained by not Submitting to the Demands of the State than by +Submitting to Them. + + +Educated people of the upper classes are trying to stifle the +ever-growing sense of the necessity of transforming the existing +social order. But life, which goes on growing more complex, and +developing in the same direction, and increases the +inconsistencies and the sufferings of men, brings them to the +limit beyond which they cannot go. This furthest limit of +inconsistency is universal compulsory military service. + +It is usually supposed that universal military service and the +increased armaments connected with it, as well as the resulting +increase of taxes and national debts, are a passing phenomenon, +produced by the particular political situation of Europe, and that +it may be removed by certain political combinations without any +modification of the inner order of life. + +This is absolutely incorrect. Universal military service is only +the internal inconsistency inherent in the social conception of +life, carried to its furthest limits, and becoming evident when a +certain stage of material development is reached. + +The social conception of life, we have seen, consists in the +transfer of the aim of life from the individual to groups and +their maintenance--to the tribe, family, race, or state. + +In the social conception of life it is supposed that since the aim +of life is found in groups of individuals, individuals will +voluntarily sacrifice their own interests for the interests of the +group. And so it has been, and still is, in fact, in certain +groups, the distinction being that they are the most primitive +forms of association in the family or tribe or race, or even in +the patriarchal state. Through tradition handed down by education +and supported by religious sentiment, individuals without +compulsion merged their interests in the interest of the group and +sacrificed their own good for the general welfare. + +But the more complex and the larger societies become, and +especially the more often conquest becomes the cause of the +amalgamation of people into a state, the more often individuals +strive to attain their own aims at the public expense, and the +more often it becomes necessary to restrain these insubordinate +individuals by recourse to authority, that is, to violence. The +champions of the social conception of life usually try to connect +the idea of authority, that is, of violence, with the idea of +moral influence, but this connection is quite impossible. + +The effect of moral influence on a man is to change his desires +and to bend them in the direction of the duty required of him. +The man who is controlled by moral influence acts in accordance +with his own desires. Authority, in the sense in which the word +is ordinarily understood, is a means of forcing a man to act in +opposition to his desires. The man who submits to authority does +not do as he chooses but as he is obliged by authority. Nothing +can oblige a man to do what he does not choose except physical +force, or the threat of it, that is--deprivation of freedom, +blows, imprisonment, or threats--easily carried out--of such +punishments. This is what authority consists of and always has +consisted of. + +In spite of the unceasing efforts of those who happen to be in +authority to conceal this and attribute some other significance to +it, authority has always meant for man the cord, the chain with +which he is bound and fettered, or the knout with which he is to +be flogged, or the ax with which he is to have hands, ears, nose, +or head cut off, or at the very least, the threat of these +terrors. So it was under Nero and Ghenghis Khan, and so it is +to-day, even under the most liberal government in the Republics of +the United States or of France. If men submit to authority, it is +only because they are liable to these punishments in case of non- +submission. All state obligations, payment of taxes, fulfillment +of state duties, and submission to punishments, exile, fines, +etc., to which people appear to submit voluntarily, are always +based on bodily violence or the threat of it. + +The basis of authority is bodily violence. The possibility of +applying bodily violence to people is provided above all by an +organization of armed men, trained to act in unison in submission +to one will. These bands of armed men, submissive to a single +will, are what constitute the army. The army has always been and +still is the basis of power. Power is always in the hands of +those who control the army, and all men in power--from the Roman +Caesars to the Russian and German Emperors--take more interest in +their army than in anything, and court popularity in the army, +knowing that if that is on their side their power is secure. + +The formation and aggrandizement of the army, indispensable to the +maintenance of authority, is what has introduced into the social +conception of life the principle that is destroying it. + +The object of authority and the justification for its existence +lie in the restraint of those who aim at attaining their personal +interests to the detriment of the interests of society. + +But however power has been gained, those who possess it are in no +way different from other men, and therefore no more disposed than +others to subordinate their own interests to those of the society. +On the contrary, having the power to do so at their disposal, they +are more disposed than others to subordinate the public interests +to their own. Whatever means men have devised for preventing +those in authority from over-riding public interests for their own +benefit, or for intrusting power only to the most faultless +people, they have not so far succeeded in either of those aims. + +All the methods of appointing authorities that have been tried, +divine right, and election, and heredity, and balloting, and +assemblies and parliaments and senate--have all proved +ineffectual. Everyone knows that not one of these methods attains +the aim either of intrusting power only to the incorruptible, or +of preventing power from being abused. Everyone knows on the +contrary that men in authority--be they emperors, ministers, +governors, or police officers--are always, simply from the +possession of power, more liable to be demoralized, that is, to +subordinate public interests to their personal aims than those who +have not the power to do so. Indeed, it could not be otherwise. + +The state conception of life could be justified only so long as +all men voluntarily sacrificed their personal interests to the +public welfare. But so soon as there were individuals who would +not voluntarily sacrifice their own interests, and authority, that +is, violence, was needed to restrain them, then the disintegrating +principle of the coercion of one set of people by another set +entered into the social conception of the organization based on +it. + +For the authority of one set of men over another to attain its +object of restraining those who override public interests for +their personal ends, power ought only to be put into the hands of +the impeccable, as it is supposed to be among the Chinese, and as +it was supposed to be in the Middle Ages, and is even now supposed +to be by those who believe in the consecration by anointing. Only +under those conditions could the social organization be justified. + +But since this is not the case, and on the contrary men in power +are always far from being saints, through the very fact of their +possession of power, the social organization based on power has no +justification. + +Even if there was once a time when, owing to the low standard of +morals, and the disposition of men to violence, the existence of +an authority to restrain such violence was an advantage, because +the violence of government was less than the violence of +individuals, one cannot but see that this advantage could not be +lasting. As the disposition of individuals to violence +diminished, and as the habits of the people became more civilized, +and as power grew more social organization demoralized through +lack of restraint, this advantage disappeared. + +The whole history of the last two thousand years is nothing but +the history of this gradual change of relation between the moral +development of the masses on the one hand and the demoralization +of governments on the other. + +This, put simply, is how it has come to pass. + +Men lived in families, tribes, and races, at feud with one +another, plundering, outraging, and killing one another. These +violent hostilities were carried on on a large and on a small +scale: man against man, family against family, tribe against +tribe, race against race, and people against people. The larger +and stronger groups conquered and absorbed the weaker, and the +larger and stronger they became, the more internal feuds +disappeared and the more the continuity of the group seemed +assured. + +The members of a family or tribe, united into one community, are +less hostile among themselves, and families and tribes do not die +like one man, but have a continuity of existence. Between the +members of one state, subject to a single authority, the strife +between individuals seems still less and the life of the state +seems even more secure. + +Their association into larger and larger groups was not the result +of the conscious recognition of the benefits of such associations, +as it is said to be in the story of the Varyagi. It was produced, +on one hand, by the natural growth of population, and, on the +other, by struggle and conquest. + +After conquest the power of the emperor puts an end to internal +dissensions, and so the state conception of life justifies itself. +But this justification is never more than temporary. Internal +dissensions disappear only in proportion to the degree of +oppression exerted by the authority over the dissentient +individuals. The violence of internal feud crushed by authority +reappears in authority itself, which falls into the hands of men +who, like the rest, are frequently or always ready to sacrifice +the public welfare to their personal interest, with the difference +that their subjects cannot resist them, and thus they are exposed +to all the demoralizing influence of authority. And thus the evil +of violence, when it passes into the hands of authority, is always +growing and growing, and in time becomes greater than the evil it +is supposed to suppress, while, at the same time, the tendency to +violence in the members of the society becomes weaker and weaker, +so that the violence of authority is less and less needed. + +Government authority, even if it does suppress private violence, +always introduces into the life of men fresh forms of violence, +which tend to become greater and greater in proportion to the +duration and strength of the government. + +So that though the violence of power is less noticeable in +government than when it is employed by members of society against +one another, because it finds expression in submission, and not in +strife, it nevertheless exists, and often to a greater degree than +in former days. + +And it could not, be otherwise, since, apart from the demoralizing +influence of power, the policy or even the unconscious tendency of +those in power will always be to reduce their subjects to the +extreme of weakness, for the weaker the oppressed, the less effort +need be made to keep him in subjection. + +And therefore the oppression of the oppressed always goes on +growing up to the furthest limit, beyond which it cannot go +without killing the goose with the golden eggs. And if the goose +lays no more eggs, like the American Indians, negroes, and +Fijians, then it is killed in spite of the sincere protests of +philanthropists. + +The most convincing example of this is to be found in the +condition of the working classes of our epoch, who are in reality +no better than the slaves of ancient times subdued by conquest. + +In spite of the pretended efforts of the higher classes to +ameliorate the position of the workers, all the working classes of +the present day are kept down by the inflexible iron law by which +they only get just what is barely necessary, so that they are +forced to work without ceasing while still retaining strength +enough to labor for their employers, who are really those who have +conquered and enslaved them. + +So it has always been. In ratio to the duration and increasing +strength of authority its advantages for its subjects disappear +and its disadvantages increase. + +And this has been so, independently of the forms of government +under which nations have lived. The only difference is that under +a despotic form of government the authority is concentrated in a +small number of oppressors and violence takes a cruder form; under +constitutional monarchies and republics as in France and America +authority is divided among a great number of oppressors and the +forms assumed by violence is less crude, but its effect of making +the disadvantages of authority greater than its advantages, and of +enfeebling the oppressed to the furthest extreme to which they can +be reduced with advantage to the oppressors, remains always the +same. + +Such has been and still is the condition of all the oppressed, but +hitherto they have not recognized the fact. In the majority of +instances they have believed in all simplicity that governments +exist for their benefit; that they would be lost without a +government; that the very idea of living without a government is a +blasphemy which one hardly dare put into words; that this is the-- +for some reason terrible--doctrine of anarchism, with which a +mental picture of all kinds of horrors is associated. + +People have believed, as though it were something fully proved, +and so needing no proof, that since all nations have hitherto +developed in the form of states, that form of organization is an +indispensable condition of the development of humanity. + +And in that way it has lasted for hundreds and thousands of years, +and governments--those who happened to be in power--have tried it, +and are now trying more zealously than ever to keep their subjects +in this error. + +So it was under the Roman emperors and so it is now. In spite of +the fact that the sense of the uselessness and even injurious +effects of state violence is more and more penetrating into men's +consciousness, things might have gone on in the same way forever +if governments were not under the necessity of constantly +increasing their armies in order to maintain their power. + +It is generally supposed that governments strengthen their forces +only to defend the state from other states, in oblivion of the +fact that armies are necessary, before all things, for the defense +of governments from their own oppressed and enslaved subjects. + +That has always been necessary, and has become more and more +necessary with the increased diffusion of education among the +masses, with the improved communication between people of the same +and of different nationalities. It has become particularly +indispensable now in the face of communism, socialism, anarchism, +and the labor movement generally. Governments feel that it is so, +and strengthen the force of their disciplined armies. [See +Footnote] + + [Footnote: The fact that in America the abuses of + authority exist in spite of the small number of their + troops not only fails to disprove this position, + but positively confirms it. In America there are + fewer soldiers than in other states. That is why + there is nowhere else so little oppression of the + working classes, and no country where the end of the + abuses of government and of government itself seems + so near. Of late as the combinations of laborers + gain in strength, one hears more and more frequently + the cry raised for the increase of the army, though + the United States are not threatened with any attack + from without. The upper classes know that an army of + fifty thousand will soon be insufficient, and no longer + relying on Pinkerton's men, they feel that the security + of their position depends on the increased strength of + the army. + + +In the German Reichstag not long ago, in reply to a question why +funds were needed for raising the salaries of the under-officers, +the German Chancellor openly declared that trustworthy under- +officers were necessary to contend against socialism. Caprivi +only said aloud what every statesman knows and assiduously +conceals from the people. The reason to which he gave expression +is essentially the same as that which made the French kings and +the popes engage Swiss and Scotch guards, and makes the Russian +authorities of to-day so carefully distribute the recruits, so +that the regiments from the frontiers are stationed in central +districts, and the regiments from the center are stationed on the +frontiers. The meaning of Caprivi's speech, put into plain +language, is that funds are needed, not to resist foreign foes, +but to BUY UNDER-OFFICERS to be ready to act against the enslaved +toiling masses. + +Caprivi incautiously gave utterance to what everyone knows +perfectly well, or at least feels vaguely if he does not recognize +it, that is, that the existing order of life is as it is, not, as +would be natural and right, because the people wish it to be so, +but because it is so maintained by state violence, by the army +with its BOUGHT UNDER-OFFICERS and generals. + +If the laborer has no land, if he cannot use the natural right of +every man to derive subsistence for himself and his family out of +the land, that is not because the people wish it to be so, but +because a certain set of men, the land-owners, have appropriated +the right of giving or refusing admittance to the land to the +laborers. And this abnormal order of things is maintained by the +army. If the immense wealth produced by the labor of the working +classes is not regarded as the property of all, but as the +property of a few exceptional persons; if labor is taxed by +authority and the taxes spent by a few on what they think fit; if +strikes on the part of laborers are repressesd, while on the part +of capitalists they are encouraged; if certain persons appropriate +the right of choosing the form of the education, religious and +secular, of children, and certain persons monopolize the right of +making the laws all must obey, and so dispose of the lives and +properties of other people--all this is not done because the +people wish it and because it is what is natural and right, but +because the government and ruling classes wish this to be so for +their own benefit, and insist on its being so even by physical +violence. + +Everyone, if he does not recognize this now, will know that it is +so at the first attempt at insubordination or at a revolution of +the existing order. + +Armies, then, are needed by governments and by the ruling classes +above all to support the present order, which, far from being the +result of the people's needs, is often in direct antagonism to +them, and is only beneficial to the government and ruling classes. + +To keep their subjects in oppression and to be able to enjoy the +fruits of their labor the government must have armed forces. + +But there is not only one government. There are other +governments, exploiting their subjects by violence in the same +way, and always ready to pounce down on any other government and +carry off the fruits of the toil of its enslaved subjects. And so +every government needs an army also to protect its booty from its +neighbor brigands. Every government is thus involuntarily reduced +to the necessity of emulating one another in the increase of their +armies. This increase is contagious, as Montesquieu pointed out +150 years ago. + +Every increase in the army of one state, with the aim of +self-defense against its subjects, becomes a source of danger for +neighboring states and calls for a similar increase in their +armies. + +The armed forces have reached their present number of millions not +only through the menace of danger from neighboring states, but +principally through the necessity of subduing every effort at +revolt on the part of the subjects. + +Both causes, mutually dependent, contribute to the same result at +once; troops are required against internal forces and also to keep +up a position with other states. One is the result of the other. +The despotism of a government always increases with the strength +of the army and its external successes, and the aggressiveness of +a government increases with its internal despotism. + +The rivalry of the European states in constantly increasing their +forces has reduced them to the necessity of having recourse to +universal military service, since by that means the greatest +possible number of soldiers is obtained at the least possible +expense. Germany first hit on this device. And directly one +state adopted it the others were obliged to do the same. And by +this means all citizens are under arms to support the iniquities +practiced upon them; all citizens have become their own +oppressors. + +Universal military service was an inevitable logical necessity, to +which we were bound to come. But it is also the last expression +of the inconsistency inherent in the social conception of life, +when violence is needed to maintain it. This inconsistency has +become obvious in universal military service. In fact, the whole +significance of the social conception of life consists in man's +recognition of the barbarity of strife between individuals, and +the transitoriness of personal life itself, and the transference +of the aim of life to groups of persons. But with universal +military service it comes to pass that men, after making every +sacrifice to get rid of the cruelty of strife and the insecurity +of existence, are called upon to face all the perils they had +meant to avoid. And in addition to this the state, for whose sake +individuals renounced their personal advantages, is exposed again +to the same risks of insecurity and lack of permanence as the +individual himself was in previous times. + +Governments were to give men freedom from the cruelty of personal +strife and security in the permanence of the state order of +existence. But instead of doing that they expose the individuals +to the same necessity of strife, substituting strife with +individuals of other states for strife with neighbors. And the +danger of destruction for the individual, and the state too, they +leave just as it was. + +Universal military service may be compared to the efforts of a man +to prop up his falling house who so surrounds it and fills it with +props and buttresses and planks and scaffolding that he manages to +keep the house standing only by making it impossible to live in +it. + +In the same way universal military service destroys all the +benefits of the social order of life which it is employed to +maintain. + +The advantages of social organization are security of property and +labor and associated action for the improvement of existence-- +universal military service destroys all this. + +The taxes raised from the people for war preparations absorb the +greater part of the produce of labor which the army ought to +defend. + +The withdrawing of all men from the ordinary course of life +destroys the possibility of labor itself. The danger of war, ever +ready to break out, renders all reforms of life social life vain +and fruitless. + +In former days if a man were told that if he did not acknowledge +the authority of the state, he would be exposed to attack from +enemies domestic and foreign, that he would have to resist them +alone, and would be liable to be killed, and that therefore it +would be to his advantage to put up with some hardships to secure +himself from these calamities, he might well believe it, seeing +that the sacrifices he made to the state were only partial and +gave him the hope of a tranquil existence in a permanent state. +But now, when the sacrifices have been increased tenfold and +the promised advantages are disappearing, it would be a natural +reflection that submission to authority is absolutely useless. + +But the fatal significance of universal military service, as the +manifestation of the contradiction inherent in the social +conception of life, is not only apparent in that. The greatest +manifestation of this contradiction consists in the fact that +every citizen in being made a soldier becomes a prop of the +government organization, and shares the responsibility of +everything the government does, even though he may not admit its +legitimacy. + +Governments assert that armies are needed above all for external +defense, but that is not true. They are needed principally +against their subjects, and every man, under universal military +service, becomes an accomplice in all the acts of violence of the +government against the citizens without any choice of his own. + +To convince oneself of this one need only remember what things are +done in every state, in the name of order and the public welfare, +of which the execution always falls to the army. All civil +outbreaks for dynastic or other party reasons, all the executions +that follow on such disturbances, all repression of insurrections, +and military intervention to break up meetings and to suppress +strikes, all forced extortion of taxes, all the iniquitous +distributions of land, all the restrictions on labor--are either +carried out directly by the military or by the police with the +army at their back. Anyone who serves his time in the army shares +the responsibility of all these things, about which he is, in some +cases, dubious, while very often they are directly opposed to his +conscience. People are unwilling to be turned out of the land +they have cultivated for generations, or they are unwilling to +disperse when the government authority orders them, or they are +unwilling to pay the taxes required of them, or to recognize laws +as binding on them when they have had no hand in making them, or +to be deprived of their nationality--and I, in the fulfillment of +my military duty, must go and shoot them for it. How can I help +asking myself when I take part in such punishments, whether they +are just, and whether I ought to assist in carrying them out? + +Universal service is the extreme limit of violence necessary for +the support of the whole state organization, and it is the extreme +limit to which submission on the part of the subjects can go. It +is the keystone of the whole edifice, and its fall will bring it +all down. + +The time has come when the ever-growing abuse of power by +governments and their struggles with one another has led to their +demanding such material and even moral sacrifices from their +subjects that everyone is forced to reflect and ask himself, "Can +I make these sacrifices? And for the sake of what am I making +them? I am expected for the sake of the state to make these +sacrifices, to renounce everything that can be precious to man-- +peace, family, security, and human dignity." What is this state, +for whose sake such terrible sacrifices have to be made? And why +is it so indispensably necessary? "The state," they tell us, "is +indispensably needed, in the first place, because without it we +should not be protected against the attacks of evil-disposed +persons; and secondly, except for the state we should be savages +and should have neither religion, culture, education, nor +commerce, nor means of communication, nor other social +institutions; and thirdly, without the state to defend us we +should be liable to be conquered and enslaved by neighboring +peoples." + +"Except for the state," they say, "we should be exposed to the +attacks of evil-disposed persons in our own country." + +But who are these evil-disposed persons in our midst from whose +attacks we are preserved by the state and its army? Even if, +three or four centuries ago, when men prided themselves on their +warlike prowess, when killing men was considered an heroic +achievement, there were such persons; we know very well that there +are no such persons now, that we do not nowadays carry or use +firearms, but everyone professes humane principles and feels +sympathy for his fellows, and wants nothing more than we all do-- +that is, to be left in peace to enjoy his existence undisturbed. +So that nowadays there are no special malefactors from whom the +state could defend us. If by these evil disposed persons is meant +the men who are punished as criminals, we know very well that they +are not a different kind of being like wild beasts among sheep, +but are men just like ourselves, and no more naturally inclined to +crimes than those against whom they commit them. We know now that +threats and punishments cannot diminish their number; that that +can only be done by change of environment and moral influence. So +that the justification of state violence on the ground of the +protection it gives us from evil-disposed persons, even if it had +some foundation three or four centuries ago, has none whatever +now. At present one would rather say on the contrary that the +action of the state with its cruel methods of punishment, behind +the general moral standard of the age, such as prisons, galleys, +gibbets, and guillotines, tends rather to brutalize the people +than to civilize them, and consequently rather to increase than +diminish the number of malefactors. + +"Except for the state," they tell us, "we should not have any +religion, education, culture, means of communication, and so on. +Without the state men would not have been able to form the social +institutions needed for doing any thing." This argument too was +well founded only some centuries ago. + +If there was a time when people were so disunited, when they had +so little means of communication and interchange of ideas, that +they could not co-operate and agree together in any common action +in commerce, economics, or education without the state as a +center, this want of common action exists no longer. The great +extension of means of communication and interchange of ideas has +made men completely able to dispense with state aid in forming +societies, associations, corporations, and congresses for +scientific, economic, and political objects. Indeed government is +more often an obstacle than an assistance in attaining these aims. + +From the end of last century there has hardly been a single +progressive movement of humanity which has not been retarded by +the government. So it has been with abolition of corporal +punishment, of trial by torture, and of slavery, as well as with +the establishment of the liberty of the press and the right of +public meeting. In our day governments not only fail to +encourage, but directly hinder every movement by which people try +to work out new forms of life for themselves. Every attempt at +the solution of the problems of labor, land, politics, and +religion meets with direct opposition on the part of government. + +"Without governments nations would be enslaved by their +neighbors." It is scarcely necessary to refute this last +argument. It carries its refutation on the face of it. The +government, they tell us, with its army, is necessary to defend us +from neighboring states who might enslave us. But we know this is +what all governments say of one another, and yet we know that all +the European nations profess the same principles of liberty and +fraternity, and therefore stand in no need of protection against +one another. And if defense against barbarous nations is meant, +one-thousandth part of the troops now under arms would be amply +sufficient for that purpose. We see that it is really the very +opposite of what we have been told. The power of the state, far +from being a security against the attacks of our neighbors, +exposes us, on the contrary, to much greater danger of such +attacks. So that every man who is led, through his compulsory +service in the army, to reflect on the value of the state for +whose sake he is expected to be ready to sacrifice his peace, +security, and life, cannot fail to perceive that there is no kind +of justification in modern times for such a sacrifice. + +And it is not only from the theoretical standpoint that every man +must see that the sacrifices demanded by the state have no +justification. Even looking at it practically, weighing, that is +to say, all the burdens laid on him by the state, no man can fail +to see that for him personally to comply with state demands and +serve in the army, would, in the majority of cases, be more +disadvantageous than to refuse to do so. + +If the majority of men choose to submit rather than to refuse, it +is not the result of sober balancing of advantages and +disadvantages, but because they are induced by a kind of +hypnotizing process practiced upon them. In submitting they +simply yield to the suggestions given them as orders, without +thought or effort of will. To resist would need independent +thought and effort of which every man is not capable. Even apart +from the moral significance of compliance or non-compliance, +considering material advantage only, non-compliance will be more +advantageous in general. + +Whoever I may be, whether I belong to the well-to-do class of the +oppressors, or the working class of the oppressed, in either case +the disadvantages of non-compliance are less and its advantages +greater than those of compliance. If I belong to the minority of +oppressors the disadvantages of non-compliance will consist in my +being brought to judgment for refusing to perform my duties to the +state, and if I am lucky, being acquitted or, as is done in the +case of the Mennonites in Russia, being set to work out my +military service at some civil occupation for the state; while if +I am unlucky, I may be condemned to exile or imprisonment for two +or three years (I judge by the cases that have occurred in +Russia), possibly to even longer imprisonment, or possibly to +death, though the probability of that latter is very remote. + +So much for the disadvantages of non-compliance. The +disadvantages of compliance will be as follows: if I am lucky I +shall not be sent to murder my fellow-creatures, and shall not be +exposed to great danger of being maimed and killed, but shall only +be enrolled into military slavery. I shall be dressed up like a +clown, I shall be at the beck and call of every man of a higher +grade than my own from corporal to field-marshal, shall be put +through any bodily contortions at their pleasure, and after being +kept from one to five years I shall have for ten years afterward +to be in readiness to undertake all of it again at any minute. If +I am unlucky I may, in addition, be sent to war, where I shall be +forced to kill men of foreign nations who have done me no harm, +where I may be maimed or killed, or sent to certain destruction as +in the case of the garrison of Sevastopol, and other cases in +every war, or what would be most terrible of all, I may be sent +against my own compatriots and have to kill my own brothers for +some dynastic or other state interests which have absolutely +nothing to do with me. So much for the comparative disadvantages. + +The comparative advantages of compliance and non-compliance are as +follows: + +For the man who submits, the advantages will be that, after +exposing himself to all the humiliation and performing all the +barbarities required of him, he may, if he escapes being killed, +get a decoration of red or gold tinsel to stick on his clown's +dress; he may, if he is very lucky, be put in command of hundreds +of thousands of others as brutalized as himself; be called a +field-marshal, and get a lot of money. + +The advantages of the man who refuses to obey will consist in +preserving his dignity as a man, gaining the approbation of good +men, and above all knowing that he is doing the work of God, and +so undoubtedly doing good to his fellow-men. + +So much for the advantages and disadvantages of both lines of +conduct for a man of the wealthy classes, an oppressor. For a man +of the poor working class the advantages and disadvantages will be +the same, but with a great increase of disadvantages. The +disadvantages for the poor man who submits will be aggravated by +the fact that he will by taking part in it, and, as it were, +assenting to it strengthen the state of subjection in which he is +held himself. + +But no considerations as to how far the state is useful or +beneficial to the men who help to support it by serving in the +army, nor of the advantages or disadvantages for the individual of +compliance or non-compliance with state demands, will decide the +question of the continued existence or the abolition of +government. This question will be finally decided beyond appeal +by the religious consciousness or conscience of every man who is +forced, whether he will or no, through universal conscription, to +face the question whether the state is to continue to exist or +not. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +DOCTRINE OF NON-RESISTANCE TO EVIL BY FORCE MUST INEVITABLY BE +ACCEPTED BY MEN OF THE PRESENT DAY. + +Christianity is Not a System of Rules, but a New Conception of +Life, and therefore it was Not Obligatory and was Not Accepted +in its True Significance by All, but only by a Few--Christianity +is, Moreover, Prophetic of the Destruction of the Pagan Life, +and therefore of Necessity of the Acceptance of the Christian +Doctrines--Non-resistance of Evil by Force is One Aspect of the +Christian Doctrine, which must Inevitably in Our Times be +Accepted by Men--Two Methods of Deciding Every Quarrel--First +Method is to Find a Universal Definition of Evil, which All Must +Accept, and to Resist this Evil by Force--Second Method is the +Christian One of Complete Non-resistance by Force--Though the +Failure of the First Method was Recognized since the Early Days of +Christianity, it was Still Proposed, and only as Mankind has +Progressed it has Become More and More Evident that there Cannot +be any Universal Definition of Evil--This is Recognized by All at +the Present Day, and if Force is Still Used to Resist Evil, it is +Not Because it is Now Regarded as Right, but Because People Don't +Know How to Avoid It--The Difficulty of Avoiding It is the Result +of the Subtle and Complex Character of the Government Use of +Force--Force is Used in Four Ways: Intimidation, Bribery, +Hypnotism, and Coercion by Force of Arms--State Violence Can Never +be Suppressed by the Forcible Overthrow of the Government--Men are +Led by the Sufferings of the Pagan Mode of Life to the Necessity +of Accepting Christ's Teaching with its Doctrine of Non-resistance +by Force--The Consciousness of its Truth which is Diffused +Throughout Our Society, Will also Bring About its Acceptance--This +Consciousness is in Complete Contradiction with Our Life--This is +Specially Obvious in Compulsory Military Service, but Through +Habit and the Application of the Four Methods of Violence by the +State, Men do not See this Inconsistency of Christianity with Life +of a Soldier--They do Not even See It, though the Authorities +Themselves Show all the Immorality of a Soldier's Duties with +Perfect Clearness--The Call to Military Service is the Supreme +Test for Every Man, when the Choice is Offered Him, between +Adopting the Christian Doctrine of Non-resistance, or Slavishly +Submitting to the Existing State Organization--Men Usually +Renounce All They Hold Sacred, and Submit to the Demands of +Government, Seeming to See No Other Course Open to Them--For Men +of the Pagan Conception of Life there is No Other Course Open, and +Never Will Be, in Spite of the Growing Horrors of War--Society, +Made Up of Such Men, Must Perish, and No Social Reorganization Can +Save It--Pagan Life Has Reached Its Extreme Limit, and Will +Annihilate Itself. + + +It is often said that if Christianity is a truth, it ought to have +been accepted by everyone directly it appeared, and ought to have +transformed men's lives for the better. But this is like saying +that if the seed were ripe it ought at once to bring forth stalls, +flower, and fruit. + +The Christian religion is not a legal system which, being imposed +by violence, may transform men's lives. Christianity is a new and +higher conception of life. A new conception of life cannot be +imposed on men; it can only be freely assimilated. And it can +only be freely assimilated in two ways: one spiritual and +internal, the other experimental and external. + +Some people--a minority--by a kind of prophetic instinct divine +the truth of the doctrine, surrender themselves to it and adopt +it. Others--the majority--only through a long course of mistakes, +experiments, and suffering are brought to recognize the truth of +the doctrine and the necessity of adopting it. + +And by this experimental external method the majority of Christian +men have now been brought to this necessity of assimilating the +doctrine. One sometimes wonders what necessitated the corruption +of Christianity which is now the greatest obstacle to its +acceptance in its true significance. + +If Christianity had been presented to men in its true, uncorrupted +form, it would not have been accepted by the majority, who would +have been as untouched by it as the nations of Asia are now. The +peoples who accepted it in its corrupt form were subjected to its +slow but certain influence, and by a long course of errors and +experiments and their resultant sufferings have now been brought +to the necessity of assimilating it in its true significance. + +The corruption of Christianity and its acceptance in its corrupt +form by the majority of men was as necessary as it is that the +seed should remain hidden for a certain time in the earth in order +to germinate. + +Christianity is at once a doctrine of truth and a prophecy. +Eighteen centuries ago Christianity revealed to men the truth in +which they ought to live, and at the same time foretold what human +life would become if men would not live by it but continued to +live by their previous principles, and what it would become if +they accepted the Christian doctrine and carried it out in their +lives. + +Laying down in the Sermon on the Mount the principles by which to +guide men's lives, Christ said: "Whosoever heareth these sayings +of mine, and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, who +built his house upon a rock; and the rain descended, and the +floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it +fell not, for it was founded upon a rock. And everyone that +heareth these sayings, and doeth them not, shall be likened unto a +foolish man, who built his house upon the sand; and the rain +descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon +that house; and it fell: and great was the fall of it" (Matt. vii. +24-27). + +And now after eighteen centuries the prophecy has been fulfilled. +Not having followed Christ's teaching generally and its +application to social life in non-resistance to evil, men have +been brought in spite of themselves to the inevitable destruction +foretold by Christ for those who do not fulfill his teaching. + +People often think the question of non-resistance to evil by force +is a theoretical one, which can be neglected. Yet this question +is presented by life itself to all men, and calls for some answer +from every thinking man. Ever since Christianity has been +outwardly professed, this question is for men in their social life +like the question which presents itself to a traveler when the +road on which he has been journeying divides into two branches. +He must go on and he cannot say: I will not think about it, but +will go on just as I did before. There was one road, now there +are two, and he must make his choice. + +In the same way since Christ's teaching has been known by men they +cannot say: I will live as before and will not decide the question +of resistance or non-resistance to evil by force. At every new, +struggle that arises one must inevitably decide; am I, or am I +not, to resist by force what I regard as evil. + +The question of resistance or non-resistance to evil arose when +the first conflict between men took place, since every conflict is +nothing else than resistance by force to what each of the +combatants regards as evil. But before Christ, men did not see +that resistance by force to what each regards as evil, simply +because one thinks evil what the other thinks good, is only one of +the methods of settling the dispute, and that there is another +method, that of not resisting evil by force at all. + +Before Christ's teaching, it seemed to men that the one only means +of settling a dispute was by resistance to evil by force. And +they acted accordingly, each of the combatants trying to convince +himself and others that what each respectively regards as evil, is +actually, absolutely evil. + +And to do this from the earliest time men have devised definitions +of evil and tried to make them binding on everyone. And such +definitions of evil sometimes took the form of laws, supposed to +have been received by supernatural means, sometimes of the +commands of rulers or assemblies to whom infallibility was +attributed. Men resorted to violence against others, and +convinced themselves and others that they were directing their +violence against evil recognized as such by all. + +This means was employed from the earliest times, especially by +those who had gained possession of authority, and for a long while +its irrationality was not detected. + +But the longer men lived in the world and the more complex their +relations became, the more evident it was that to resist by force +what each regarded as evil was irrational, that conflict was in no +way lessened thereby, and that no human definitions can succeed in +making what some regard as evil be accepted as such by others. + +Already at the time Christianity arose, it was evident to a great +number of people in the Roman Empire where it arose, that what was +regarded as evil by Nero and Caligula could not be regarded as +evil by others. Even at that time men had begun to understand +that human laws, though given out for divine laws, were compiled +by men, and cannot be infallible, whatever the external majesty +with which they are invested, and that erring men are not rendered +infallible by assembling together and calling themselves a senate +or any other name. Even at that time this was felt and understood +by many. And it was then that Christ preached his doctrine, which +consisted not only of the prohibition of resistance to evil by +force, but gave a new conception of life and a means of putting an +end to conflict between all men, not by making it the duty of one +section only of mankind to submit without conflict to what is +prescribed to them by certain authorities, but by making it the +duty of all--and consequently of those in authority--not to resort +to force against anyone in any circumstances. + +This doctrine was accepted at the time by only a very small number +of disciples. The majority of men, especially all who were in +power, even after the nominal acceptance of Christianity, +continued to maintain for themselves the principle of resistance +by force to what they regarded as evil. So it was under the Roman +and Byzantine emperors, and so it continued to be later. + +The insufficiency of the principle of the authoritative definition +of evil and resistance to it by force, evident as it was in the +early ages of Christianity, becomes still more obvious through the +division of the Roman Empire into many states of equal authority, +through their hostilities and the internal conflicts that broke +out within them. + +But men were not ready to accept the solution given by Christ, and +the old definitions of evil, which ought to be resisted, continued +to be laid down by means of making laws binding on all and +enforced by forcible means. The authority who decided what ought +to be regarded as evil and resisted by force was at one time the +Pope, at another an emperor or king, an elective assembly or a +whole nation. But both within and without the state there were +always men to be found who did not accept as binding on themselves +the laws given out as the decrees of a god, or made by men +invested with a sacred character, or the institutions supposed to +represent the will of the nation; and there were men who thought +good what the existing authorities regarded as bad, and who +struggled against the authorities with the same violence as was +employed against them. + +The men invested with religious authority regarded as evil what +the men and institutions invested with temporal authority regarded +as good and vice versa, and the struggle grew more and more +intense. And the longer men used violence as the means of +settling their disputes, the more obvious it became that it was an +unsuitable means, since there could be no external authority able +to define evil recognized by all. + +Things went on like this for eighteen centuries, and at last +reached the present position in which it is absolutely obvious +that there is, and can be, no external definition of evil binding +upon all. Men have come to the point of ceasing to believe in the +possibility or even desirability of finding and establishing such +a general definition. It has come to men in power ceasing to +attempt to prove that what they regard as evil is evil, and simply +declaring that they regard as evil what they don't like, while +their subjects no longer obey them because they accept the +definition of evil laid down by them, but simply obey because they +cannot help themselves. It was not because it was a good thing, +necessary and beneficial to men, and the contrary course would +have been an evil, but simply because it was the will of those in +power that Nice was incorporated into France, and Lorraine into +Germany, and Bohemia into Austria, and that Poland was divided, +and Ireland and India ruled by the English government, and that +the Chinese are attacked and the Africans slaughtered, and the +Chinese prevented from immigrating by the Americans, and the Jews +persecuted by the Russians, and that landowners appropriate lands +they do not cultivate and capitalists enjoy the fruits of the +labor of others. It has come to the present state of things; one +set of men commit acts of violence no longer on the pretext of +resistance to evil, but simply for their profit or their caprice, +and another set submit to violence, not because they suppose, as +was supposed in former times, that this violence was practised +upon them for the sake of securing them from evil, but simply +because they cannot avoid it. + +If the Roman, or the man of mediaeval times, or the average +Russian of fifty years ago, as I remember him, was convinced +without a shade of doubt that the violence of authority was +indispensable to preserve him from evil; that taxes, dues, +serfage, prisons, scourging, knouts, executions, the army and war +were what ought to be--we know now that one can seldom find a man +who believes that all these means of violence preserve anyone from +any evil whatever, and indeed does not clearly perceive that most +of these acts of violence to which he is exposed, and in which he +has some share, are in themselves a great and useless evil. + +There is no one to-day who does not see the uselessness and +injustice of collecting taxes from the toiling masses to enrich +idle officials; or the senselessness of inflicting punishments on +weak or depraved persons in the shape of transportation from one +place to another, or of imprisonment in a fortress where, living +in security and indolence, they only become weaker and more +depraved; or the worse than uselessness and injustice, the +positive insanity and barbarity of preparations for war and of +wars, causing devastation and ruin, and having no kind of +justification. Yet these forms of violence continue and are +supported by the very people who see their uselessness, injustice, +and cruelty, and suffer from them. If fifty years ago the idle +rich man and the illiterate laborer were both alike convinced that +their state of everlasting holiday for one and everlasting toil +for the other was ordained by God himself, we know very well that +nowadays, thanks to the growth of population and the diffusion of +books and education, it would be hard to find in Europe or even in +Russia, either among rich or poor, a man to whom in one shape or +another a doubt as to the justice of this state of things had +never presented itself. The rich know that they are guilty in the +very fact of being rich, and try to expiate their guilt by +sacrifices to art and science, as of old they expiated their sins +by sacrifices to the Church. And even the larger half of the +working people openly declare that the existing order is +iniquitous and bound to be destroyed or reformed. One set of +religious people of whom there are millions in Russia, the so- +called sectaries, consider the existing social order as unjust and +to be destroyed on the ground of the Gospel teaching taken in its +true sense. Others regard it as unjust on the ground of the +socialistic, communistic, or anarchistic theories, which are +springing up in the lower strata of the working people. Violence +no longer rests on the belief in its utility, but only on the fact +of its having existed so long, and being organized by the ruling +classes who profit by it, so that those who are under their +authority cannot extricate themselves from it. The governments of +our day--all of them, the most despotic and the liberal alike-- +have become what Herzen so well called "Ghenghis Khan with the +telegraph;" that is to say, organizations of violence based on no +principle but the grossest tyranny, and at the same time taking +advantage of all the means invented by science for the peaceful +collective social activity of free and equal men, used by them to +enslave and oppress their fellows. + +Governments and the ruling classes no longer take their stand on +right or even on the semblance of justice, but on a skillful +organization carried to such a point of perfection by the aid of +science that everyone is caught in the circle of violence and has +no chance of escaping from it. This circle is made up now of four +methods of working upon men, joined together like the limes of a +chain ring. + +The first and oldest method is intimidation. This consists in +representing the existing state organization--whatever it may be, +free republic or the most savage despotism--as something sacred +and immutable, and therefore following any efforts to alter it +with the cruellest punishments. This method is in use now--as it +has been from olden times--wherever there is a government: in +Russia against the so-called Nihilists, in America against +Anarchists, in France against Imperialists, Legitimists, +Communards, and Anarchists. + +Railways, telegraphs, telephones, photographs, and the great +perfection of the means of getting rid of men for years, without +killing them, by solitary confinement, where, hidden from the +world, they perish and are forgotten, and the many other modern +inventions employed by government, give such power that when once +authority has come into certain hands, the police, open and +secret, the administration and prosecutors, jailers and +executioners of all kinds, do their work so zealously that there +is no chance of overturning the government, however cruel and +senseless it may be. + +The second method is corruption. It consists in plundering the +industrious working people of their wealth by means of taxes and +distributing it in satisfying the greed of officials, who are +bound in return to support and keep up the oppression of the +people. These bought officials, from the highest ministers to the +poorest copying clerks, make up an unbroken network of men bound +together by the same interest--that of living at the expense of +the people. They become the richer the more submissively they +carry out the will of the government; and at all times and places, +sticking at nothing, in all departments support by word and deed +the violence of government, on which their own prosperity also +rests. + +The third method is what I can only describe as hypnotizing the +people. This consists in checking the moral development of men, +and by various suggestions keeping them back in the ideal of life, +outgrown by mankind at large, on which the power of government +rests. This hypnotizing process is organized at the present in the +most complex manner, and starting from their earliest childhood, +continues to act on men till the day of their death. It begins in +their earliest years in the compulsory schools, created for this +purpose, in which the children have instilled into them the ideas +of life of their ancestors, which are in direct antagonism with +the conscience of the modern world. In countries where there is a +state religion, they teach the children the senseless blasphemies +of the Church catechisms, together with the duty of obedience to +their superiors. In republican states they teach them the savage +superstition of patriotism and the same pretended obedience to the +governing authorities. + +The process is kept up during later years by the encouragement of +religious and patriotic superstitions. + +The religious superstition is encouraged by establishing, with +money taken from the people, temples, processions, memorials, and +festivals, which, aided by painting, architecture, music, and +incense, intoxicate the people, and above all by the support of +the clergy, whose duty consists in brutalizing the people and +keeping them in a permanent state of stupefaction by their +teaching, the solemnity of their services, their sermons, and +their interference in private life--at births, deaths, and +marriages. The patriotic superstition is encouraged by the +creation, with money taken from the people, of national fetes, +spectacles, monuments, and festivals to dispose men to attach +importance to their own nation, and to the aggrandizement of the +state and its rulers, and to feel antagonism and even hatred for +other nations. With these objects under despotic governments there +is direct prohibition against printing and disseminating books to +enlighten the people, and everyone who might rouse the people from +their lethargy is exiled or imprisoned. Moreover, under every +government without exception everything is kept back that might +emancipate and everything encouraged that tends to corrupt the +people, such as literary works tending to keep them in the +barbarism of religious and patriotic superstition, all kinds of +sensual amusements, spectacles, circuses, theaters, and even the +physical means of inducing stupefaction, as tobacco and alcohol, +which form the principal source of revenue of states. Even +prostitution is encouraged, and not only recognized, but even +organized by the government in the majority of states. So much for +the third method. + +The fourth method consists in selecting from all the men who have +been stupefied and enslaved by the three former methods a certain +number, exposing them to special and intensified means of +stupefaction and brutalization, and so making them into a passive +instrument for carrying out all the cruelties and brutalities +needed by the government. This result is attained by taking them +at the youthful age when men have not had time to form clear and +definite principles of morals, and removing them from all natural +and human conditions of life, home, family and kindred, and useful +labor. They are shut up together in barracks, dressed in special +clothes, and worked upon by cries, drums, music, and shining +objects to go through certain daily actions invented for this +purpose, and by this means are brought into an hypnotic condition +in which they cease to be men and become mere senseless machines, +submissive to the hypnotizer. These physically vigorous young men +(in these days of universal conscription, all young men), +hypnotized, armed with murderous weapons, always obedient to the +governing authorities and ready for any act of violence at their +command, constitute the fourth and principal method of enslaving +men. + +By this method the circle of violence is completed. + +Intimidation, corruption, and hypnotizing bring people into a +condition in which they are willing to be soldiers; the soldiers +give the power of punishing and plundering them (and purchasing +officials with the spoils), and hypnotizing them and converting +them in time into these same soldiers again. + +The circle is complete, and there is no chance of breaking through +it by force. + +Some persons maintain that freedom from violence, or at least a +great diminution of it, may be gained by the oppressed forcibly +overturning the oppressive government and replacing it by a new +one under which such violence and oppression will be unnecessary, +but they deceive themselves and others, and their efforts do not +better the position of the oppressed, but only make it worse. +Their conduct only tends to increase the despotism of government. +Their efforts only afford a plausible pretext for government to +strengthen their power. + +Even if we admit that under a combination of circumstances +specially unfavorable for the government, as in France in 1870, +any government might be forcibly overturned and the power +transferred to other hands, the new authority would rarely be less +oppressive than the old one; on the contrary, always having to +defend itself against its dispossessed and exasperated enemies, it +would be more despotic and cruel, as has always been the rule in +all revolutions. + +While socialists and communists regard the individualistic, +capitalistic organization of society as an evil, and the +anarchists regard as an evil all government whatever, there are +royalists, conservatives, and capitalists who consider any +socialistic or communistic organization or anarchy as an evil, and +all these parties have no means other than violence to bring men +to agreement. Whichever of these parties were successful in +bringing their schemes to pass, must resort to support its +authority to all the existing methods of violence, and even invent +new ones. + +The oppressed would be another set of people, and coercion would +take some new form; but the violence and oppression would be +unchanged or even more cruel, since hatred would be intensified by +the struggle, and new forms of oppression would have been devised. +So it has always been after all revolutions and all attempts at +revolution, all conspiracies, and all violent changes of +government. Every conflict only strengthens the means of +oppression in the hands of those who happen at a given moment to +be in power. + +The position of our Christian society, and especially the ideals +most current in it, prove this in a strikingly convincing way. + +There remains now only one sphere of human life not encroached +upon by government authority--that is the domestic, economic +sphere, the sphere of private life and labor. And even this is +now--thanks to the efforts of communists and socialists--being +gradually encroached upon by government, so that labor and +recreation, dwellings, dress, and food will gradually, if the +hopes of the reformers are successful, be prescribed and regulated +by government. + +The slow progress of eighteen centuries has brought the Christian +nations again to the necessity of deciding the question they have +evaded--the question of the acceptance or non-acceptance of +Christ's teaching, and the question following upon it in social +life of resistance or non-resistance to evil by force. But there +is this difference, that whereas formerly men could accept or +refuse to accept the solution given by Christ, now that solution +cannot be avoided, since it alone can save men from the slavery in +which they are caught like a net. + +But it is not only the misery of the position which makes this +inevitable. + +While the pagan organization has been proved more and more false, +the truth of the Christian religion has been growing more and more +evident. + +Not in vain have the best men of Christian humanity, who +apprehended the truth by spiritual intuition, for eighteen +centuries testified to it in spite of every menace, every +privation, and every suffering. By their martyrdom they passed on +the truth to the masses, and impressed it on their hearts. + +Christianity has penetrated into the consciousness of humanity, +not only negatively by the demonstration of the impossibility of +continuing in the pagan life, but also through its simplification, +its increased clearness and freedom from the superstitions +intermingled with it, and its diffusion through all classes of the +population. + +Eighteen centuries of Christianity have not passed without an +effect even on those who accepted it only externally. These +eighteen centuries have brought men so far that even while they +continue to live the pagan life which is no longer consistent with +the development of humanity, they not only see clearly all the +wretchedness of their position, but in the depths of their souls +they believe (they can only live through this belief) that the +only salvation from this position is to be found in fulfilling the +Christian doctrine in its true significance. As to the time and +manner of salvation, opinions are divided according to the +intellectual development and the prejudices of each society. But +every man of the modern world recognizes that our salvation lies +in fulfilling the law of Christ. Some believers in the +supernatural character of Christianity hold that salvation will +come when all men are brought to believe in Christ, whose second +coming is at hand. Other believers in supernatural Christianity +hold that salvation will come through the Church, which will draw +all men into its fold, train them in the Christian virtues, and +transform their life. A third section, who do not admit the +divinity of Christ, hold that the salvation of mankind will be +brought about by slow and gradual progress, through which the +pagan principles of our existence will be replaced by the +principles of liberty, equality, and fraternity--that is, by +Christian principles. A fourth section, who believe in the social +revolution, hold that salvation will come when through a violent +revolution men are forced into community of property, abolition of +government, and collective instead of individual industry--that is +to say, the realization of one side of the Christian doctrine. In +one way or another all men of our day in their inner consciousness +condemn the existing effete pagan order, and admit, often +unconsciously and while regarding themselves as hostile to +Christianity, that our salvation is only to be found in the +application of the Christian doctrine, or parts of it, in its true +significance to our daily life. + +Christianity cannot, as its Founder said, be realized by the +majority of men all at once; it must grow like a huge tree from a +tiny seed. And so it has grown, and now has reached its full +development, not yet in actual life, but in the conscience of men +of to-day. + +Now not only the minority, who have always comprehended +Christianity by spiritual intuition, but all the vast majority who +seem so far from it in their social existence recognize its true +significance. + +Look at individual men in their private life, listen to their +standards of conduct in their judgment of one another; hear not +only their public utterances, but the counsels given by parents +and guardians to the young in their charge; and you will see that, +far as their social life based on violence may be from realizing +Christian truth, in their private life what is considered good by +all without exception is nothing but the Christian virtues; what +is considered as bad is nothing but the antichristian vices. Those +who consecrate their lives self-sacrificingly to the service of +humanity are regarded as the best men. The selfish, who make use +of the misfortunes of others for their own advantage, are regarded +as the worst of men. + +Though some non-Christian ideals, such as strength, courage, and +wealth, are still worshiped by a few who have not been penetrated +by the Christian spirit, these ideals are out of date and are +abandoned, if not by all, at least by all those regarded as the +best people. There are no ideals, other than the Christian ideals, +which are accepted by all and regarded as binding on all. + +The position of our Christian humanity, if you look at it from the +outside with all its cruelty and degradation of men, is terrible +indeed. But if one looks at it within, in its inner consciousness, +the spectacle it presents is absolutely different. + +All the evil of our life seems to exist only because it has been +so for so long; those who do the evil have not had time yet to +learn how to act otherwise, though they do not want to act as they +do. + +All the evil seems to exist through some cause independent of the +conscience of men. + +Strange and contradictory as it seems, all men of the present day +hate the very social order they are themselves supporting. + +I think it is Max Muller who describes the amazement of an Indian +convert to Christianity, who after absorbing the essence of the +Christian doctrine came to Europe and saw the actual life of +Christians. He could not recover from his astonishment at the +complete contrast between the reality and what he had expected to +find among Christian nations. If we feel no astonishment at the +contrast between our convictions and our conduct, that is because +the influences, tending to obscure the contrast, produce an effect +upon us too. We need only look at our life from the point of view +of that Indian, who understood Christianity in its true +significance, without any compromises or concessions, we need but +look at the savage brutalities of which our life is full, to be +appalled at the contradictions in the midst of which we live often +without observing them. + +We need only recall the preparations for war, the mitrailleuses, +the silver-gilt bullets, the torpedoes, and--the Red Cross; the +solitary prison cells, the experiments of execution by +electricity--and the care of the hygienic welfare of prisoners; +the philanthropy of the rich, and their life, which produces the +poor they are benefiting. + +And these inconsistencies are not, as it might seem, because men +pretend to be Christians while they are really pagans, but because +of something lacking in men, or some kind of force hindering them +from being what they already feel themselves to be in their +consciousness, and what they genuinely wish to be. Men of the +present day do not merely pretend to hate oppression, inequality, +class distinction, and every kind of cruelty to animals as well as +human beings. They genuinely detest all this, but they do not +know how to put a stop to it, or perhaps cannot decide to give up +what preserves it all, and seems to them necessary. + +Indeed, ask every man separately whether he thinks it laudable and +worthy of a man of this age to hold a position from which he +receives a salary disproportionate to his work; to take from the +people--often in poverty--taxes to be spent on constructing +cannon, torpedoes, and other instruments of butchery, so as to +make war on people with whom we wish to be at peace, and who feel +the same wish in regard to us; or to receive a salary for devoting +one's whole life to constructing these instruments of butchery, or +to preparing oneself and others for the work of murder. And ask +him whether it is laudable and worthy of a man, and suitable for a +Christian, to employ himself, for a salary, in seizing wretched, +misguided, often illiterate and drunken, creatures because they +appropriate the property of others--on a much smaller scale than +we do--or because they kill men in a different fashion from that +in which we undertake to do it--and shutting them in prison for +it, ill treating them and killing them; and whether it is laudable +and worthy of a man and a Christian to preach for a salary to the +people not Christianity, but superstitions which one knows to be +stupid and pernicious; and whether it is laudable and worthy of a +man to rob his neighbor for his gratification of what he wants to +satisfy his simplest needs, as the great landowners do; or to +force him to exhausting labor beyond his strength to augment one's +wealth, as do factory owners and manufacturers; or to profit by +the poverty of men to increase one's gains, as merchants do. And +everyone taken separately, especially if one's remarks are +directed at someone else, not himself, will answer, No! And yet +the very man who sees all the baseness of those actions, of his +own free will, uncoerced by anyone, often even for no pecuniary +profit, but only from childish vanity, for a china cross, a scrap +of ribbon, a bit of fringe he is allowed to wear, will enter +military service, become a magistrate or justice of the peace, +commissioner, archbishop, or beadle, though in fulfilling these +offices he must commit acts the baseness and shamefulness of which +he cannot fail to recognize. + +I know that many of these men will confidently try to prove that +they have reasons for regarding their position as legitimate and +quite indispensable. They will say in their defense that +authority is given by God, that the functions of the state are +indispensable for the welfare of humanity, that property is not +opposed to Christianity, that the rich young man was only +commanded to sell all he had and give to the poor if he wished to +be perfect, that the existing distribution of property and our +commercial system must always remain as they are, and are to the +advantage of all, and so on. But, however much they try to +deceive themselves and others, they all know that what they are +doing is opposed to all the beliefs which they profess, and in the +depths of their souls, when they are left alone with their +conscience, they are ashamed and miserable at the recollection of +it, especially if the baseness of their action has been pointed +out to them. A man of the present day, whether he believes in the +divinity of Christ or not, cannot fail to see that to assist in +the capacity of tzar, minister, governor, or commissioner in +taking from a poor family its last cow for taxes to be spent on +cannons, or on the pay and pensions of idle officials, who live in +luxury and are worse than useless; or in putting into prison some +man we have ourselves corrupted, and throwing his family on the +streets; or in plundering and butchering in war; or in inculcating +savage and idolatrous superstitious in the place of the law of +Christ; or in impounding the cow found on one's land, though it +belongs to a man who has no land; or to cheat the workman in a +factory, by imposing fines for accidentally spoiled articles; or +making a poor man pay double the value for anything simply because +he is in the direst poverty;--not a man of the present day can +fail to know that all these actions are base and disgraceful, and +that they need not do them. They all know it. They know that +what they are doing is wrong, and would not do it for anything in +the world if they had the power of resisting the forces which shut +their eyes to the criminality of their actions and impel them to +commit them. + +In nothing is the pitch of inconsistency modern life has attained +to so evident as in universal conscription, which is the last +resource and the final expression of violence. + +Indeed, it is only because this state of universal armament has +been brought about gradually and imperceptibly, and because +governments have exerted, in maintaining it, every resource of +intimidation, corruption, brutalization, and violence, that we do +not see its flagrant inconsistency with the Christian ideas and +sentiments by which the modern world is permeated. + +We are so accustomed to the inconsistency that we do not see all +the hideous folly and immorality of men voluntarily choosing the +profession of butchery as though it were an honorable career, of +poor wretches submitting to conscription, or in countries where +compulsory service has not been introduced, of people voluntarily +abandoning a life of industry to recruit soldiers and train them +as murderers. We know that all of these men are either +Christians, or profess humane and liberal principles, and they +know that they thus become partly responsible--through universal +conscription, personally responsible--for the most insane, +aimless, and brutal murders. And yet they all do it. + +More than that, in Germany, where compulsory service first +originated, Caprivi has given expression to what had been hitherto +so assiduously concealed--that is, that the men that the soldiers +will have to kill are not foreigners alone, but their own +countrymen, the very working people from whom they themselves are +taken. And this admission has not opened people's eyes, has not +horrified them! They still go like sheep to the slaughter, and +submit to everything required of them. + +And that is not all: the Emperor of Germany has lately shown still +more clearly the duties of the army, by thanking and rewarding a +soldier for killing a defenseless citizen who made his approach +incautiously. By rewarding an action always regarded as base and +cowardly even by men on the lowest level of morality, William has +shown that a soldier's chief duty--the one most appreciated by the +authorities--is that of executioner; and not a professional +executioner who kills only condemned criminals, but one ready to +butcher any innocent man at the word of command. + +And even that is not all. In 1892, the same William, the ENFANT +TERRIBLE of state authority, who says plainly what other people +only think, in addressing some soldiers gave public utterance to +the following speech, which was reported next day in thousands of +newspapers: "Conscripts!" he said, "you have sworn fidelity to ME +before the altar and the minister of God! You are still too young +to understand all the importance of what has been said here; let +your care before all things be to obey the orders and instructions +given you. You have sworn fidelity TO ME, lads of my guard; THAT +MEANS THAT YOU ARE NOW MY SOLDIERS, that YOU HAVE GIVEN YOURSELVES +TO ME BODY AND SOUL. For you there is now but one enemy, MY +enemy. IN THESE DAYS OF SOCIALISTIC SEDITION IT MAY COME TO PASS +THAT I COMMAND YOU TO FIRE ON YOUR OWN KINDRED, YOUR BROTHERS, +EVEN YOUR OWN FATHERS AND MOTHERS--WHICH GOD FORBID!--even then +you are bound to obey my orders without hesitation." + +This man expresses what all sensible rulers think, but studiously +conceal. He says openly that the soldiers are in HIS service, at +HIS disposal, and must be ready for HIS advantage to murder even +their brothers and fathers. + +In the most brutal words he frankly exposes all the horrors and +criminality for which men prepare themselves in entering the army, +and the depths of ignominy to which they fall in promising +obedience. Like a bold hypnotizer, he tests the degree of +insensibility of the hypnotized subject. He touches his skin with +a red-hot iron; the skin smokes and scorches, but the sleeper does +not awake. + +This miserable man, imbecile and drunk with power, outrages in +this utterance everything that can be sacred for a man of the +modern world. And yet all the Christians, liberals, and +cultivated people, far from resenting this outrage, did not even +observe it. + +The last, the most extreme test is put before men in its coarsest +form. And they do not seem even to notice that it is a test, that +there is any choice about it. They seem to think there is no +course open but slavish submission. One would have thought these +insane words, which outrage everything a man of the present day +holds sacred, must rouse indignation. But there has been nothing +of the kind. + +All the young men through the whole of Europe are exposed year +after year to this test, and with very few exceptions they +renounce all that a man can hold sacred, all express their +readiness to kill their brothers, even their fathers, at the +bidding of the first crazy creature dressed up in a livery with +red and gold trimming, and only wait to be told where and when +they are to kill. And they actually are ready. + +Every savage has something he holds sacred, something for which he +is ready to suffer, something he will not consent to do. But what +is it that is sacred to the civilized man of to-day? They say to +him: "You must become my slave, and this slavery may force you +to kill even your own father;" and he, often very well educated, +trained in all the sciences at the university, quietly puts his +head under the yoke. They dress him up in a clown's costume, and +order him to cut capers, turn and twist and bow, and kill--he does +it all submissively. And when they let him go, he seems to shake +himself and go back to his former life, and he continues to +discourse upon the dignity of man, liberty, equality, and +fraternity as before. + +"Yes, but what is one to do?" people often ask in genuine +perplexity. "If everyone would stand out it would be something, +but by myself, I shall only suffer without doing any good to +anyone." + +And that is true. A man with the social conception of life cannot +resist. The aim of his life is his personal welfare. It is better +for his personal welfare for him to submit, and he submits. + +Whatever they do to him, however they torture or humiliate him, he +will submit, for, alone, he can do nothing; he has no principle +for the sake of which he could resist violence alone. And those +who control them never allow them to unite together. It is often +said that the invention of terrible weapons of destruction will +put an end to war. That is an error. As the means of +extermination are improved, the means of reducing men who hold the +state conception of life to submission can be improved to +correspond. They may slaughter them by thousands, by millions, +they may tear them to pieces, still they will march to war like +senseless cattle. Some will want beating to make them move, +others will be proud to go if they are allowed to wear a scrap of +ribbon or gold lace. + +And of this mass of men so brutalized as to be ready to promise to +kill their own parents, the social reformers--conservatives, +liberals, socialists, and anarchists--propose to form a rational +and moral society. What sort of moral and rational society can be +formed out of such elements? With warped and rotten planks you +cannot build a house, however you put them together. And to form +a rational moral society of such men is just as impossible a task. +They can be formed into nothing but a herd of cattle, driven by +the shouts and whips of the herdsmen. As indeed they are. + +So, then, we have on one side men calling themselves Christians, +and professing the principles of liberty, equality, and +fraternity, and along with that ready, in the name of liberty, to +submit to the most slavish degradation; in the name of equality, +to accept the crudest, most senseless division of men by externals +merely into higher and lower classes, allies and enemies; and, in +the name of fraternity, ready to murder their brothers [see +footnote]. + + [Footnote: The fact that among certain nations, as + the English and the American, military service is not + compulsory (though already one hears there are some + who advocate that it should be made so) does not + affect the servility of the citizens to the government + in principle. Here we have each to go and kill or be + killed, there they have each to give the fruit of their + toil to pay for the recruiting and training of soldiers.] + +The contradiction between life and conscience and the misery +resulting from it have reached the extreme limit and can go no +further. The state organization of life based on violence, the +aim of which was the security of personal, family, and social +welfare, has come to the point of renouncing the very objects for +which it was founded--it has reduced men to absolute renunciation +and loss of the welfare it was to secure. + +The first half of the prophecy has been fulfilled in the +generation of men who have not accepted Christ's teaching, Their +descendants have been brought now to the absolute necessity of +patting the truth of the second half to the test of experience. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE ACCEPTANCE OF THE CHRISTIAN CONCEPTION OF LIFE WILL EMANCIPATE +MEN FROM THE MISERIES OF OUR PAGAN LIFE. + +The External Life of Christian Peoples Remains Pagan Though they +are Penetrated by Christian Consciousness--The Way Out of this +Contradiction is by the Acceptance of the Christian Theory of +Life--Only Through Christianity is Every Man Free, and Emancipated +of All Human Authority--This Emancipation can be Effected by no +Change in External Conditions of Life, but Only by a Change in the +Conception of Life--The Christian Ideal of Life Requires +Renunciation of all Violence, and in Emancipating the Man who +Accepts it, Emancipates the Whole World from All External +Authorities--The Way Out of the Present Apparently Hopeless +Position is for Every Man who is Capable of Assimilating the +Christian Conception of Life, to Accept it and Live in Accordance +with it--But Men Consider this Way too Slow, and Look for +Deliverance Through Changes in Material Conditions of Life Aided +by Government--That Will Lead to No Improvement, as it is simply +Increasing the Evil under which Men are Suffering--A Striking +Instance of this is the Submission to Compulsory Military Service, +which it would be More Advantageous for Every Man to Refuse than +to Submit to--The Emancipation of Men Can Only be Brought About by +each Individual Emancipating Himself, and the Examples of this +Self-emancipation which are already Appearing Threaten the +Destruction of Governmental Authority--Refusal to Comply with the +Unchristian Demands of Government Undermines the Authority of the +State and Emancipates Men--And therefore Cases of such Non- +compliance are Regarded with more Dread by State Authorities than +any Conspiracies or Acts of Violence--Examples of Non-compliance +in Russia, in Regard to Oath of Allegiance, Payment of Taxes, +Passports, Police Duties, and Military Service--Examples of such +Non-compliance in other States--Governments do not Know how to +Treat Men who Refuse to Comply with their Demands on Christian +Grounds--Such People, without Striking a Blow, Undermine the very +Basis of Government from Within--To Punish them is Equivalent to +Openly Renouncing Christianity, and Assisting in Diffusing the +Very Principle by which these Men justify their Non-compliance--So +Governments are in a Helpless Position--Men who Maintain the +Uselessness of Personal Independence, only Retard the Dissolution +Dissolution of the Present State Organization Based on Force. + + +The position of the Christian peoples in our days has remained +just as cruel as it was in the times of paganism. In many +respects, especially in the oppression of the masses, it has +become even more cruel than it was in the days of paganism. + +But between the condition of men in ancient times and their +condition in our days there is just the difference that we see in +the world of vegetation between the last days of autumn and the +first days of spring. In the autumn the external lifelessness in +nature corresponds with its inward condition of death, while in +the spring the external lifelessness is in sharp contrast with the +internal state of reviving and passing into new forms of life. + +In the same way the similarity between the ancient heathen life +and the life of to-day is merely external: the inward condition of +men in the times of heathenism was absolutely different from their +inward condition at the present time. + +Then the outward condition of cruelty and of slavery was in +complete harmony with the inner conscience of men, and every step +in advance intensified this harmony; now the outward condition of +cruelty and of slavery is completely contradictory to the +Christian consciousness of men, and every step in advance only +intensifies this contradiction. + +Humanity is passing through seemingly unnecessary, fruitless +agonies. It is passing through something like the throes of +birth. Everything is ready for the new life, but still the new +life does not come. + +There seems no way out of the position. And there would be none, +except that a man (and thereby all men) is gifted with the power +of forming a different, higher theory of life, which at once frees +him from all the bonds by which he seems indissolubly fettered. + +And such a theory is the Christian view of life made known to +mankind eighteen hundred years ago. + +A man need only make this theory of life his own, for the fetters +which seemed so indissolubly forged upon him to drop off of +themselves, and for him to feel himself absolutely free, just as a +bird would feel itself free in a fenced-in place directly it tools +to its wings. + +People talk about the liberty of the Christian Church, about +giving or not giving freedom to Christians. Underlying all these +ideas and expressions there is some strange misconception. +Freedom cannot be bestowed on or taken from a Christian or +Christians. Freedom is an inalienable possession of the +Christian. + +If we talk of bestowing freedom on Christians or withholding it +from them, we are obviously talking not of real Christians but of +people who only call themselves Christians. A Christian cannot +fail to be free, because the attainment of the aim he sets before +himself cannot be prevented or even hindered by anyone or +anything. + +Let a man only understand his life as Christianity teaches him to +understand it, let him understand, that is, that his life belongs +not to him--not to his own individuality, nor to his family, nor +to the state--but to him who has sent him into the world, and let +him once understand that he must therefore fulfill not the law of +his own individuality, nor his family, nor of the state, but the +infinite law of him from whom he has come; and he will not only +feel himself absolutely free from every human power, but will even +cease to regard such power as at all able to hamper anyone. + +Let a man but realize that the aim of his life is the fulfillment +of God's law, and that law will replace all other laws for him, +and he will give it his sole allegiance, so that by that very +allegiance every human law will lose all binding and controlling +power in his eyes. + +The Christian is independent of every human authority by the fact +that he regards the divine law of love, implanted in the soul of +every man, and brought before his consciousness by Christ, as the +sole guide of his life and other men's also. + +The Christian may be subjected to external violence, he may be +deprived of bodily freedom, he may be in bondage to his passions +(he who commits sin is the slave of sin), but he cannot be in +bondage in the sense of being forced by any danger or by any +threat of external harm to perform an act which is against his +conscience. + +He cannot be compelled to do this, because the deprivations and +sufferings which form such a powerful weapon against men of the +state conception of life, have not the least power to compel him. + +Deprivations and sufferings take from them the happiness for which +they live; but far from disturbing the happiness of the Christian, +which consists in the consciousness of fulfilling the will of God, +they may even intensify it, when they are inflicted on him for +fulfilling his will. + +And therefore the Christian, who is subject only to the inner +divine law, not only cannot carry out the enactments of the +external law, when they are not in agreement with the divine law +of love which he acknowledges (as is usually the case with state +obligations), he cannot even recognize the duty of obedience to +anyone or anything whatever, he cannot recognize the duty of what +is called allegiance. + +For a Christian the oath of allegiance to any government whatever +--the very act which is regarded as the foundation of the +existence of a state--is a direct renunciation of Christianity. +For the man who promises unconditional obedience in the future to +laws, made or to be made, by that very promise is in the most, +positive manner renouncing Christianity, which means obeying in +every circumstance of life only the divine law of love he +recognizes within him. + +Under the pagan conception of life it was possible to carry out +the will of the temporal authorities, without infringing the law +of God expressed in circumcisions, Sabbaths, fixed times of +prayer, abstention from certain kinds of food, and so on. The one +law was not opposed to the other. But that is just the +distinction between the Christian religion and heathen religion. +Christianity does not require of a man certain definite negative +acts, but puts him in a new, different relation to men, from which +may result the most diverse acts, which cannot be defined +beforehand. And therefore the Christian not only cannot promise +to obey the will of any other man, without knowing what will be +required by that will; he not only cannot obey the changing laws +of than, but he cannot even promise to do anything definite at a +certain time, or to abstain from doing anything for a certain +time. For he cannot know what at any time will be required of him +by that Christian law of love, obedience to which constitutes the +meaning of life for him. The Christian, in promising +unconditional fulfillment of the laws of men in the future, would +show plainly by that promise that the inner law of God does not +constitute for him the sole law of his life. + +For a Christian to promise obedience to men, or the laws of men, +is just as though a workman bound to one employer should also +promise to carry out every order that might be given him by +outsiders. One cannot serve two masters. + +The Christian is independent of human authority, because he +acknowledges God's authority alone. His law, revealed by Christ, +he recognizes in himself, and voluntarily obeys it. + +And this independence is gained, not by means of strife, not by +the destruction of existing forms,of life, but only by a change in +the interpretation of life. This independence results first from +the Christian recognizing the law of love, revealed to him by his +teacher, as perfectly sufficient for all human relations, and +therefore he regards every use of force as unnecessary and +unlawful; and secondly, from the fact that those deprivations and +sufferings, or threats of deprivations and sufferings (which +reduce the man of the social conception of life to the necessity +of obeying) to the Christian from his different conception of +life, present themselves merely as the inevitable conditions of +existence. And these conditions, without striving against them by +force, he patiently endures, like sickness, hunger, and every +other hardship, but they cannot serve him as a guide for his +actions. The only guide for the Christian's actions is to be +found in the divine principle living within him, which cannot be +checked or governed by anything. + +The Christian acts according to the words of the prophecy applied +to his teacher: "He shall not strive, nor cry; neither shall any +man hear his voice in the streets. A bruised reed shall he not +break, and smoking flax shall he not quench, till he send forth +judgment unto victory." (Matt. xii. 19, 20.) + +The Christian will not dispute with anyone, nor attack anyone, nor +use violence against anyone. On the contrary, he will bear +violence without opposing it. But by this very attitude to +violence, he will not only himself be free, but will free the +whole world from all external power. + +"Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." If +there were any doubt of Christianity being the truth, the perfect +liberty, that nothing can curtail, which a man experiences +directly he makes the Christian theory of life his own, would be +an unmistakable proof of its truth. + +Men in their present condition are like a swarm of bees hanging in +a cluster to a branch. The position of the bees on the branch is +temporary, and must inevitably be changed. They must start off +and find themselves a habitation. Each of the bees knows this, +and desires to change her own and the others' position, but no one +of them can do it till the rest of them do it. They cannot all +start off at once, because one hangs on to another and hinders her +from separating from the swarm, and therefore they all continue to +hang there. It would seem that the bees could never escape from +their position, just as it seems that worldly men, caught in the +toils of the state conception of life, can never escape. And +there would be no escape for the bees, if each of them were not a +living, separate creature, endowed with wings of its own. +Similarly there would be no escape for men, if each were not a +living being endowed with the faculty of entering into the +Christian conception of life. + +If every bee who could fly, did not try to fly, the others, too, +would never be stirred, and the swarm would never change its +position. And if the man who has mastered the Christian +conception of life would not, without waiting for other people, +begin to live in accordance with this conception, mankind would +never change its position. But only let one bee spread her wings, +start off, and fly away, and after her another, and another, and +the clinging, inert cluster would become a freely flying swarm of +bees. Just in the same way, only let one man look at life as +Christianity teaches him to look at it, and after him let another +and another do the same, and the enchanted circle of existence in +the state conception of life, from which there seemed no escape, +will be broken through. + +But men think that to set all men free by this means is +too slow a process, that they must find some other means by which +they could set all men free at once. It is just as though the +bees who want to start and fly away should consider it too long a +process to wait for all the swarm to start one by one; and should +think they ought to find some means by which it would not be +necessary for every separate bee to spread her wings and fly off, +but by which the whole swarm could fly at once where it wanted to. +But that is not possible; till a first, a second, a third, a +hundredth bee spreads her wings and flies off of her own accord, +the swarm will not fly off and will not begin its new life. Till +every individual man makes the Christian conception of life his +own, and begins to live in accord with it, there can be no +solution of the problem of human life, and no establishment of a +new form of life. + +One of the most striking phenomena of our times is precisely this +advocacy of slavery, which is promulgated among the masses, not by +governments, in whom it is inevitable, but by men who, in +advocating socialistic theories, regard themselves as the +champions of freedom. + +These people advance the opinion that the amelioration of life, +the bringing of the facts of life into harmony with the +conscience, will come, not as the result of the personal efforts +of individual men, but of itself as the result of a certain +possible reconstruction of society effected in some way or other. +The idea is promulgated that men ought not to walk on their own +legs where they want and ought to go, but that a kind of floor +under their feet will be moved somehow, so that on it they can +reach where they ought to go without moving their own legs. And, +therefore, all their efforts ought to be directed, not to going so +far as their strength allows in the direction they ought to go, +but to standing still and constructing such a floor. + +In the sphere of political economy a theory is propounded which +amounts to saying that the worse things are the better they are; +that the greater the accumulation of capital, and therefore the +oppression of the workman, the nearer the day of emancipation, +and, therefore, every personal effort on the part of a man to free +himself from the oppression of capital is useless. In the sphere +of government it is maintained that the greater the power of the +government, which, according to this theory, ought to intervene in +every department of private life in which it has not yet +intervened, the better it will be, and that therefore we ought to +invoke the interference of government in private life. In +politics and international questions it is maintained that the +improvement of the means of destruction, the multiplication of +armaments, will lead to the necessity of making war by means of +congresses, arbitration, and so on. And, marvelous to say, so +great is the dullness of men, that they believe in these theories, +in spite of the fact that the whole course of life, every step +they take, shows how unworthy they are of belief. + +The people are suffering from oppression, and to deliver them from +this oppression they are advised to frame general measures for the +improvement of their position, which measures are to be intrusted +to the authorities, and themselves to continue to yield obedience +to the authorities. And obviously all that results from this is +only greater power in the hands of the authorities, and greater +oppression resulting from it. + +Not one of the errors of men carries them so far away from the aim +toward which they are struggling as this very one. They do all +kinds of different things for the attainment of their aim, but not +the one simple obvious thing which is within reach of everyone. +They devise the subtlest means for changing the position which is +irksome to them, but not that simplest means, that everyone should +refrain from doing what leads to that position. + +I have been told a story of a gallant police officer, who came to +a village where the peasants were in insurrection and the military +had been called out, and he undertook to pacify the insurrection +in the spirit of Nicholas I., by his personal influence alone. He +ordered some loads of rods to be brought, and collecting all the +peasants together into a barn, he went in with them, locking the +door after him. To begin with, he so terrified the peasants by +his loud threats that, reduced to submission by him, they set to +work to flog one another at his command. And so they flogged one +another until a simpleton was found who would not allow himself to +be flogged, and shouted to his companions not to flog one another. +Only then the fogging ceased, and the police officer made his +escape. Well, this simpleton's advice would never be followed by +men of the state conception of life, who continue to flog one +another, and teach people that this very act of self-castigation +is the last word of human wisdom. + +Indeed, can one imagine a more striking instance of men flogging +themselves than the submissiveness with which men of our times +will perform the very duties required of them to keep them in +slavery, especially the duty of military service? We see people +enslaving themselves, suffering from this slavery, and believing +that it must be so, that it does not matter, and will not hinder +the emancipation of men, which is being prepared somewhere, +somehow, in spite of the ever-increasing growth of slavery. + +In fact, take any man of the present time whatever (I don't mean a +true Christian, but an average man of the present day), educated +or uneducated, believing or unbelieving, rich or poor, married or +unmarried. Such a man lives working at his work, or enjoying his +amusements, spending the fruits of his labors on himself or on +those near to him, and, like everyone, hating every kind of +restriction and deprivation, dissension and suffering. Such a man +is going his way peaceably, when suddenly people come and say to +him: First, promise and swear to us that you will slavishly obey +us in everything we dictate to you, and will consider absolutely +good and authoritative everything we plan, decide, and call law. +Secondly, hand over a part of the fruits of your labors for us to +dispose of--we will use the money to keep you in slavery, and to +hinder you from forcibly opposing our orders. Thirdly, elect +others, or be yourself elected, to take a pretended share in the +government, knowing all the while that the government will proceed +quite without regard to the foolish speeches you, and those like +you, may utter, and knowing that its proceedings will be according +to our will, the will of those who have the army in their hands. +Fourthly, come at a certain time to the law courts and take your +share in those senseless cruelties which we perpetrate on sinners, +and those whom we have corrupted, in the shape of penal servitude, +exile, solitary confinement, and death. And fifthly and lastly, +more than all this, in spite of the fact that you maybe on the +friendliest terms with people of other nations, be ready, directly +we order you to do so, to regard those whom we indicate to you as +your enemies; and be ready to assist, either in person or by +proxy, in devastation, plunder, and murder of their men, women, +children, and aged alike--possibly your own kinsmen or relations-- +if that is necessary to us. + +One would expect that every man of the present day who has a grain +of sense left, might reply to such requirements, "But why should I +do all this?" One would think every right-minded man must say in +amazement: "Why should I promise to yield obedience to everything +that has been decreed first by Salisbury, then by Gladstone; one +day by Boulanger, and another by Parliament; one day by Peter +III., the next by Catherine, and the day after by Pougachef; one +day by a mad king of Bavaria, another by William? Why should I +promise to obey them, knowing them to be wicked or foolish people, +or else not knowing them at all? Why am I to hand over the fruits +of my labors to them in the shape of taxes, knowing that the money +will be spent on the support of officials, prisons, churches, +armies, on things that are harmful, and on my own enslavement? +Why should I punish myself? Why should I go wasting my time and +hoodwinking myself, giving to miscreant evildoers a semblance of +legality, by taking part in elections, and pretending that I am +taking part in the government, when I know very well that the real +control of the government is in the hands of those who have got +hold of the army? Why should I go to the law courts to take part +in the trial and punishment of men because they have sinned, +knowing, if I am a Christian, that the law of vengeance is replaced +by the law of love, and, if I am an educated man, that punishments +do not reform, but only deprave those on whom they are inflicted? +And why, most of all, am I to consider as enemies the people of a +neighboring nation, with whom I have hitherto lived and with whom +I wish to live in love and harmony, and to kill and rob them, or +to bring them to misery, simply in order that the keys of the +temple at Jerusalem may be in the hands of one archbishop and not +another, that one German and not another may be prince in +Bulgaria, or that the English rather than the American merchants +may capture seals? + +And why, most of all, should I take part in person or hire others +to murder my own brothers and kinsmen? Why should I flog myself? +It is altogether unnecessary for me; it is hurtful to me, and from +every point of view it is immoral, base, and vile. So why should +I do this? If you tell me that if I do it not I shall receive +some injury from someone, then, in the first place, I cannot +anticipate from anyone an injury so great as the injury you bring +on me if I obey you; and secondly, it is perfectly clear to me +that if we our own selves do not flog ourselves, no one will flog +us. + +As for the government--that means the tzars, ministers, and +officials with pens in their hands, who cannot force us into doing +anything, as that officer of police compelled the peasants; the +men who will drag us to the law court, to prison, and to +execution, are not tzars or officials with pens in their hands, +but the very people who are in the same position as we are. And +it is just as unprofitable and harmful and unpleasant to them to +be flogged as to me, and therefore there is every likelihood that +if I open their eyes they not only would not treat me with +violence, but would do just as I am doing. + +Thirdly, even if it should come to pass that I had to suffer for +it, even then it would be better for me to be exiled or sent to +prison for standing up for common sense and right--which, if not +to-day, at least within a very short time, must be triumphant-- +than to suffer for folly and wrong which must come to an end +directly. And therefore, even in that case, it is better to run +the risk of their banishing me, shutting me up in prison, or +executing me, than of my living all my life in bondage, through my +own fault, to wicked men. Better is this than the possibility of +being destroyed by victorious enemies, and being stupidly tortured +and killed by them, in fighting for a cannon, or a piece of land +of no use to anyone, or for a senseless rag called a banner. + +I don't want to flog myself and I won't do it. I have no reason +to do it. Do it yourselves, if you want it done; but I won't do +it. + +One would have thought that not religious or moral feeling alone, +but the simplest common sense and foresight should impel every man +of the present day to answer and to act in that way. But not so. +Men of the state conception of life are of the opinion that to act +in that way is not necessary, and is even prejudicial to the +attainment of their object, the emancipation of men from slavery. +They hold that we must continue, like the police officer's +peasants, to flog one another, consoling ourselves with the +reflection that we are talking away in the assemblies and +meetings, founding trades unions, marching through the streets on +the 1st of May, getting up conspiracies, and stealthily teasing +the government that is flogging us, and that through all this it +will be brought to pass that, by enslaving ourselves in closer and +closer bondage, we shall very soon be free. + +Nothing hinders the emancipation of men from slavery so much as +this amazing error. Instead of every man directing his energies +to freeing himself, to transforming his conception of life, people +seek for an external united method of gaining freedom, and +continue to rivet their chains faster and faster. + +It is much as if men were to maintain that to make up a fire there +was no need to kindle any of the coals, but that all that was +necessary was to arrange the coals in a certain order. Yet the +fact that the freedom of all men will be brought about only +through the freedom of individual persons, becomes more and more +clear as time goes on. The freedom of individual men, in the name +of the Christian conception of life, from state domination, which +was formerly an exceptional and unnoticed phenomenon, has of late +acquired threatening significance for state authorities. + +If in a former age, in the Roman times, it happened that a +Christian confessed his religion and refused to take part in +sacrifices, and to worship the emperors or the gods; or in the +Middle Ages a Christian refused to worship images, or to +acknowledge the authority of the Pope--these cases were in the +first place a matter of chance. A man might be placed under the +necessity of confessing his faith, or he might live all his life +without being placed under this necessity. But now all men, +without exception, are subjected to this trial of their faith. +Every man of the present day is under the necessity of taking part +in the cruelties of pagan life, or of refusing all participation +in them. And secondly, in those days cases of refusal to worship +the gods or the images or the Pope were not incidents that had any +material bearing on the state. Whether men worshiped or did not +worship the gods or the images or the Pope, the state remained +just as powerful. But now cases of refusing to comply with the +unchristian demands of the government are striking at the very +root of state authority, because the whole authority of the state +is based on the compliance with these unchristian demands. + +The sovereign powers of the world have in the course of time been +brought into a position in which, for their own preservation, they +must require from all men actions which cannot be performed by men +who profess true Christianity. + +And therefore in our days every profession of true Christianity, +by any individual man, strikes at the most essential power of the +state, and inevitably leads the way for the emancipation of all. + +What importance, one might think, can one attach to such an +incident as some dozens of crazy fellows, as people will call +them, refusing to take the oath of allegiance to the government, +refusing to pay taxes, to take part in law proceedings or in +military service? + +These people are punished and exiled to a distance, and life goes +on in its old way. One might think there was no importance in +such incidents; but yet, it is just those incidents, more than +anything else, that will undermine the power of the state and +prepare the way for the freedom of men. These are the individual +bees, who are beginning to separate from the swarm, and are flying +near it, waiting till the whole swarm can no longer be prevented +from starting off after them. And the governments know this, and +fear such incidents more than all the socialists, communists, and +anarchists, and their plots and dynamite bombs. + +A new reign is beginning. According to the universal rule and +established order it is required that all the subjects should take +the oath of allegiance to the new government. There is a general +decree to that effect, and all are summoned to the council-houses +to take the oath. All at once one man in Perm, another in Tula, a +third in Moscow, and a fourth in Kalouga declare that they will +not take the oath, and though there is no communication between +them, they all explain their refusal on the same grounds--namely, +that swearing is forbidden by the law of Christ, and that even if +swearing had not been forbidden, they could not, in the spirit of +the law of Christ, promise to perform the evil actions required of +them in the oath, such as informing against all such as may act +against the interests of the government, or defending their +government with firearms or attacking its enemies. They are +brought before rural police officers, district police captains, +priests, and governors. They are admonished, questioned, +threatened, and punished; but they adhere to their resolution, and +do not take the oath. And among the millions of those who did +take the oath, those dozens go on living who did not take the +oath. And they are questioned: + +"What, didn't you take the oath?" + +"No, I didn't take the oath." + +"And what happened--nothing?" + +"Nothing." + +The subjects of a state are all bound to pay taxes. And everyone +pays taxes, till suddenly one man in Kharkov, another in Tver, and +a third in Samara refuse to pay taxes--all, as though in +collusion, saying the same thing. One says he will only pay when +they tell him what object the money taken from him will be spent +on. "If it is for good deeds," he says, "he will give it of his +own accord, and more even than is required of him. If for evil +deeds, then he will give nothing voluntarily, because by the law +of Christ, whose follower he is, he cannot take part in evil +deeds." The others, too, say the same in other words, and will +not voluntarily pay the taxes. + +Those who have anything to be taken have their property taken from +them by force; as for those who have nothing, they are left alone. + +"What, didn't you pay the tax?" + +"No, I didn't pay it." + +"And what happened-nothing?" + +"Nothing." + +There is the institution of passports. Everyone moving from his +place of residence is bound to carry one, and to pay a duty on it. +Suddenly people are to be found in various places declaring that +to carry a passport is not necessary, that one ought not to +recognize one's dependence on a state which exists by means of +force; and these people do not carry passports, or pay the duty on +them. And again, it's impossible to force those people by any +means to do what is required. They send them to jail, and let +them out again, and these people live without passports. + +All peasants are bound to fill certain police offices--that of +village constable, and of watchman, and so on. Suddenly in +Kharkov a peasant refuses to perform this duty, justifying his +refusal on the ground that by the law of Christ, of which he is a +follower, he cannot put any man in fetters, lock him up, or drag +him from place to place. The same declaration is made by a +peasant in Tver, another in Tambov. These peasants are abused, +beaten, shut up in prison, but they stick to their resolution and +don't fill these offices against their convictions. And at last +they cease to appoint them as constables. And again nothing +happens. + +All citizens are obliged to take a share in law proceedings in the +character of jurymen. Suddenly the most different people-- +mechanics, professors, tradesmen, peasants, servants, as though by +agreement refuse to fill this office, and not on the grounds +allowed as sufficient by law, but because any process at law is, +according to their views, unchristian. They fine these people, +trying not to let them have an opportunity of explaining their +motives in public, and replace them by others. And again nothing +can be done. + +All young men of twenty-one years of age are obliged to draw lots +for service in the army. All at once one young man in Moscow, +another in Tver, a third in Kharkov, and a fourth in Kiev present +themselves before the authorities, and, as though by previous +agreement, declare that they will not take the oath, they will not +serve because they are Christians. I will give the details of one +of the first cases, since they have become more frequent, which I +happen to know about [footnote: All the details of this case, as +well as those preceding it, are authentic]. The same treatment +has been repeated in every other case. A young man of fair +education refuses in the Moscow Townhall to take the oath. No +attention is paid to what he says, and it is requested that he +should pronounce the words of the oath like the rest. He +declines, quoting a particular passage of the Gospel in which +swearing is forbidden. No attention is paid to his arguments, and +he is again requested to comply with the order, but he does not +comply with it. Then it is supposed that he is a sectary and +therefore does not understand Christianity in the right sense, +that is to say, not in the sense in which the priests in the pay +of the government understand it. And the young man is conducted +under escort to the priests, that they may bring him to reason. +The priests begin to reason with him, but their efforts in +Christ's name to persuade him to renounce Christ obviously have no +influence on him; he is pronounced incorrigible and sent back +again to the army. He persists in not taking the oath and openly +refuses to perform any military duties. It is a case that has not +been provided for by the laws. To overlook such a refusal to +comply with the demands of the authorities is out of the question, +but to put such a case on a par with simple breach of discipline +is also out of the question. + +After deliberation among themselves, the military authorities +decide to get rid of the troublesome young man, to consider him as +a revolutionist, and they dispatch him under escort to the +committee of the secret police. The police authorities and +gendarmes cross-question him, but nothing that he says can be +brought under the head of any of the misdemeanors which come under +their jurisdiction. And there is no possibility of accusing him +either of revolutionary acts or revolutionary plotting, since he +declares that he does not wish to attack anything, but, on the +contrary, is opposed to any use of force, and, far from plotting +in secret, he seeks every opportunity of saying and doing all that +he says and does in the most open manner. And the gendarmes, +though they are bound by no hard-and-fast rules, still find no +ground for a criminal charge in the young man, and, like the +clergy, they send him back to the army. Again the authorities +deliberate together, and decide to accept him though he has not +taken the oath, and to enrol him among the soldiers. They put him +into the uniform, enrol him, and send him under guard to the place +where the army is quartered. There the chief officer of the +division which he enters again expects the young man to perform +his military duties, and again he refuses to obey, and in the +presence of other soldiers explains the reason of his refusal, +saying that he as a Christian cannot voluntarily prepare himself +to commit murder, which is forbidden by the law of Moses. + +This incident occurs in a provincial town. The case awakens the +interest, and even the sympathy, not only of outsiders, but even +of the officers. And the chief officers consequently do not +decide to punish this refusal of obedience with disciplinary +measures. To save appearances, though, they shut the young man up +in prison, and write to the highest military authorities to +inquire what they are to do. To refuse to serve in the army, in +which the Tzar himself serves, and which enjoys the blessing of +the Church, seems insanity from the official point of view. +Consequently they write from Petersburg that, since the young man +must be out of his mind, they must not use any severe treatment +with him, but must send him to a lunatic asylum, that his mental +condition may be inquired into and be scientifically treated. +They send him to the asylum in the hope that he will remain there, +like another young man, who refused ten years ago at Tver to serve +in the army, and who was tortured in the asylum till he submitted. +But even this step does not rid the military authorities of the +inconvenient man. The doctors examine him, interest themselves +warmly in his case, and naturally finding in him no symptoms of +mental disease, send him back to the army. There they receive +him, and making believe to have forgotten his refusal, and his +motives for it, they again request him to go to drill, and again +in the presence of the other soldiers he refuses and explains the +reason of his refusal. The affair continues to attract more and +more attention, both among the soldiers and the inhabitants of the +town. Again they write to Petersburg, and thence comes the decree +to transfer the young man to some division of the army stationed +on the frontier, in some place where the army is under martial +law, where he can be shot for refusing to obey, and where the +matter can proceed without attracting observation, seeing that +there are few Russians and Christians in such a distant part, but +the majority are foreigners and Mohammedans. This is accordingly +done. They transfer him to a division stationed on the Zacaspian +border, and in company with convicts send him to a chief officer +who is notorious for his harshness and severity. + +All this time, through all these changes from place to place, the +young man is roughly treated, kept in cold, hunger, and filth, and +life is made burdensome to him generally. But all these +sufferings do not compel him to change his resolution. On the +Zacaspian border, where he is again requested to go on guard fully +armed, he again declines to obey. He does not refuse to go and +stand near the haystacks where they place him, but refuses to take +his arms, declaring that he will not use violence in any case +against anyone. All this takes place in the presence of the other +soldiers. To let such a refusal pass unpunished is impossible, +and the young man is put on his trial for breach of discipline. +The trial takes place, and he is sentenced to confinement in the +military prison for two years. He is again transferred, in +company with convicts, by etape, to Caucasus, and there he is shut +up in prison and falls under the irresponsible power of the +jailer. There he is persecuted for a year and a half, but he does +not for all that alter his decision not to bear arms, and he +explains why he will not do this to everyone with whom he is +brought in contact. At the end of the second year they set him +free, before the end of his term of imprisonment, reckoning it +contrary to law to keep him in prison after his time of military +service was over, and only too glad to get rid of him as soon as +possible. + +Other men in various parts of Russia behave, as though by +agreement, precisely in the same way as this young man, and in all +these cases the government has adopted the same timorous, +undecided, and secretive course of action. Some of these men are +sent to the lunatic asylum, some are enrolled as clerks and +transferred to Siberia, some are sent to work in the forests, some +are sent to prison, some are fined. And at this very time some +men of this kind are in prison, not charged with their real +offense--that is, denying the lawfulness of the action of the +government, but for non-fulfillment of special obligations imposed +by government. Thus an officer of reserve, who did not report his +change of residence, and justified this on the ground that he +would not serve in the army any longer, was fined thirty rubles +for non-compliance with the orders of the superior authority. +This fine he also declined voluntarily to pay. In the same way +some peasants and soldiers who have refused to be drilled and to +bear arms have been placed under arrest on a charge of breach of +discipline and insolence. + +And cases of refusing to comply with the demands of government +when they are opposed to Christianity, and especially cases of +refusing to serve in the army, are occurring of late not in Russia +only, but everywhere. Thus I happen to know that in Servia men of +the so-called sect of Nazarenes steadily refuse to serve in the +army, and the Austrian Government has been carrying on a fruitless +contest with them for years, punishing them with imprisonment. In +the year 1885 there were 130 such cases. I know that in +Switzerland in the year 1890 there were men in prison in the +castle of Chillon for declining to serve in the army, whose +resolution was not shaken by their punishment. There have been +such cases in Sweden, and the men who refused obedience were sent +to prison in exactly the same way, and the government studiously +concealed these cases from the people. There have been similar +cases also in Prussia. I know of the case of a sub-lieutenant of +the Guards, who in 1891 declared to the authorities in Berlin that +he would not, as a Christian, continue to serve, and in spite of +all admonitions, threats, and punishments he stuck to his +resolution. In the south of France a society has arisen of late +bearing the name of the Hinschists (these facts are taken from the +PEACE HERALD, July, 1891), the members of which refuse to enter +military service on the grounds of their Christian principles. At +first they were enrolled in the ambulance corps, but now, as their +numbers increase, they are subjected to punishment for non- +compliance, but they still refuse to bear arms just the same. + +The socialists, the communists, the anarchists, with their bombs +and riots and revolutions, are not nearly so much dreaded by +governments as these disconnected individuals coming from +different parts, and all justifying their non-compliance on the +grounds of the same religion, which is known to all the world. +Every government knows by what means and in what manner to defend +itself from revolutionists, and has resources for doing so, and +therefore does not dread these external foes. But what are +governments to do against men who show the uselessness, +superfluousness, and perniciousness of all governments, and who +do not contend against them, but simply do not need them and do +without them, and therefore are unwilling to take any part in +them? The revolutionists say: The form of government is bad in +this respect and that respect; we must overturn it and substitute +this or that form of government. The Christian says: I know +nothing about the form of government, I don't know whether it is +good or bad, and I don't want to overturn it precisely because I +don't know whether it is good or bad, but for the very same reason +I don't want to support it either. And I not only don't want to, +but I can't, because what it demands of me is against my +conscience. + +All state obligations are against the conscience of a Christian-- +the oath of allegiance, taxes, law proceedings, +and military service. And the whole power of the government rests +on these very obligations. + +Revolutionary enemies attack the government from without. +Christianity does not attack it at all, but, from within, it +destroys all the foundations on which government rests. + +Among the Russian people, especially since the age of Peter I., +the protest of Christianity against the government has never +ceased, and the social organization has been such that men +emigrate in communes to Turkey, to China, and to uninhabited +lands, and not only feel no need of state aid, but always regard +the state as a useless burden, only to be endured as a misfortune, +whether it happens to be Turkish, Russian, or Chinese. And so, +too, among the Russian people more and more frequent examples have +of late appeared of conscious Christian freedom from subjection to +the state. And these examples are the more alarming for the +government from the fact that these non-compliant persons often +belong not to the so-called lower uneducated classes, but are men +of fair or good education; and also from the fact that they do not +in these days justify their position by any mystic and exceptional +views, as in former times, do not associate themselves with any +superstitious or fanatic rites, like the sects who practice self- +immolation by fire, or the wandering pilgrims, but put their +refusal on the very simplest and clearest grounds, comprehensible +to all, and recognized as true by all. + +Thus they refuse the voluntary payment of taxes, because taxes are +spent on deeds of violence--on the pay of men of violence-- +soldiers, on the construction of prisons, fortresses, and cannons. +They as Christians regard it as sinful and immoral to have any +hand in such deeds. + +Those who refuse to take the oath of allegiance refuse because to +promise obedience to authorities, that is, to men who are given to +deeds of violence, is contrary to the sense of Christ's teaching. +They refuse to take the oath in the law courts, because oaths are +directly forbidden by the Gospel. They refuse to perform police +duties, because in the performance of these duties they must use +force against their brothers and ill treat them, and a Christian +cannot do that. They refuse to take part in trials at law, +because they consider every appeal to law is fulfilling the law of +vengeance, which is inconsistent with the Christian law of +forgiveness and love. They refuse to take any part in military +preparations and in the army, because they cannot be executioners, +and they are unwilling to prepare themselves to be so. + +The motives in all these cases are so excellent that, however +despotic governments may be, they could hardly punish them openly. +To punish men for refusing to act against their conscience the +government must renounce all claim to good sense and benevolence. +And they assure people that they only rule in the name of good +sense and benevolence. + +What are governments to do against such people? + +Governments can of course flog to death or execute or keep in +perpetual imprisonment all enemies who want to overturn them by +violence, they can lavish gold on that section of the people who +are ready to destroy their enemies. But what can they do against +men who, without wishing to overturn or destroy anything, desire +simply for their part to do nothing against the law of Christ, and +who, therefore, refuse to perform the commonest state +requirements, which are, therefore, the most indispensable to the +maintenance of the state? + +If they had been revolutionists, advocating and practicing +violence and murder, their suppression would have been an easy +matter; some of them could have been bought over, some could have +been duped, some could have been overawed, and these who could not +be bought over, duped, or overawed would have been treated as +criminals, enemies of society, would have been executed or +imprisoned, and the crowd would have approved of the action of the +government. If they had been fanatics, professing some peculiar +belief, it might have been possible, in disproving the +superstitious errors mixed in with their religion, to attack also +the truth they advocate. But what is to be done with men who +profess no revolutionary ideas nor any peculiar religious dogmas, +but merely because they are unwilling to do evil to any man, +refuse to take the oath, to pay taxes, to take part in law +proceedings, to serve in the army, to fulfill, in fact, any of the +obligations upon which the whole fabric of a state rests? What is +to done with such people? To buy them over with bribes is +impossible; the very risks to which they voluntarily expose +themselves show that they are incorruptible. To dupe them into +believing that this is their duty to God is also impossible, since +their refusal is based on the clear, unmistakable law of God, +recognized even by those who are trying to compel men to act +against it. To terrify them by threats is still less possible, +because the deprivations and sufferings to which they are +subjected only strengthen their desire to follow the faith by +which they are commanded: to obey God rather than men, and not to +fear those who can destroy the body, but to fear him who can +destroy body and soul. To kill them or keep them in perpetual +imprisonment is also impossible. These men have friends, and a +past; their way of thinking and acting is well known; they are +known by everyone for good, gentle, peaceable people, and they +cannot be regarded as criminals who must be removed for the safety +of society. And to put men to death who are regarded as good men +is to provoke others to champion them and justify their refusal. +And it is only necessary to explain the reasons of their refusal +to make clear to everyone that these reasons have the same force +for all other men, and that they all ought to have done the same +long ago. These cases put the ruling powers into a desperate +position. They see that the prophecy of Christianity is coming to +pass, that it is loosening the fetters of those in chains, and +setting free them that are in bondage, and that this must +inevitably be the end of all oppressors. The ruling authorities +see this, they know that their hours are numbered, and they can do +nothing. All that they can do to save themselves is only +deferring the hour of their downfall. And this they do, but their +position is none the less desperate. + +It is like the position of a conqueror who is trying to save a +town which has been been set on fire by its own inhabitants. +Directly he puts out the conflagration in one place, it is alight +in two other places; directly he gives in to the fire and cuts off +what is on fire from a large building, the building itself is +alight at both ends. These separate fires may be few, but they +are burning with a flame which, however small a spark it starts +from, never ceases till it has set the whole ablaze. + +Thus it is that the ruling authorities are in such a defenseless +position before men who advocate Christianity, that but little is +necessary to overthrow this sovereign power which seems so +powerful, and has held such an exalted position for so many +centuries. And yet social reformers are busy promulgating the +idea that it is not necessary and is even pernicious and immoral +for every man separately to work out his own freedom. As though, +while one set of men have been at work a long while turning a +river into a new channel, and had dug out a complete water-course +and had only to open the floodgates for the water to rush in and +do the rest, another set of men should come along and begin to +advise them that it would be much better, instead of letting the +water out, to construct a machine which would ladle the water up +from one side and pour it over the other side. + +But the thing has gone too far. Already ruling governments feel +their weak and defenseless position, and men of Christian +principles are awakening from their apathy, and already begin to +feel their power. + +"I am come to send a fire on the earth," said Christ, "and what +will I, if it be already kindled?" + +And this fire is beginning to burn. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +EVIL CANNOT BE SUPPRESSED BY THE PHYSICAL FORCE OF THE +GOVERNMENT--THE MORAL PROGRESS OF HUMANITY IS BROUGHT ABOUT NOT +ONLY BY INDIVIDUAL RECOGNITION OF TRUTH, BUT ALSO THROUGH THE +ESTABLISHMENT OF A PUBLIC OPINION. + +Christianity Destroys the State--But Which is Most Necessary: +Christianity or the State?--There are Some who Assert the +Necessity of a State Organization, and Others who Deny it, both +Arguing from same First Principles--Neither Contention can be +Proved by Abstract Argument--The Question must be Decided by the +Stage in the Development of Conscience of Each Man, which will +either Prevent or Allow him to Support a Government Organization-- +Recognition of the Futility and Immorality of Supporting a State +Organization Contrary to Christian Principles will Decide the +Question for Every Man, in Spite of any Action on Part of the +State--Argument of those who Defend the Government, that it is a +Form of Social Life, Needed to Protect the Good from the Wicked, +till all Nations and all Members of each Nation have Become +Christians--The Most Wicked are Always those in Power--The whole +History of Humanity is the History of the Forcible Appropriation +of Power by the Wicked and their Oppression of the Good--The +Recognition by Governments of the Necessity of Opposing Evil by +Force is Equivalent to Suicide on their Part--The Abolition of +State-violence cannot Increase the Sum Total of Acts of Violence-- +The Suppression of the Use of Force is not only Possible, but is +even Taking Place before Our Eyes--But it will Never be Suppressed +by the Violence of Government, but through Men who have Attained +Power by Evidence Recognizing its Emptiness and Becoming Better +and Less Capable of Using Force--Individual Men and also Whole +Nations Pass Through this Process--By this Means Christianity is +Diffused Through Consciousness of Men, not only in Spite of Use of +Violence by Government, but even Through its Action,and therefore +the Suppression is not to be Dreaded, but is Brought About by the +National Progress of Life--Objection of those who Defend State +Organization that Universal Adoption of Christianity is hardly +Likely to be Realized at any Time--The General Adoption of the +Truths of Christianity is being Brought About not only by the +Gradual and Inward Means,that is, by Knowledge of the Truth, +Prophetic Insight, and Recognition of the Emptiness of Power, and +Renunciation of it by Individuals, but also by Another External +Means, the Acceptance of a New Truth by Whole Masses of Men on a +Lower Level of Development Through Simple Confidence in their +Leaders--When a Certain Stage in the Diffusion of a Truth has been +Reached, a Public Opinion is Created which Impels a Whole Mass of +Men, formerly Antagonistic to the New Truth, to Accept it--And +therefore all Men may Quickly be Brought to Renounce the use of +Violence when once a Christian Public Opinion is Established--The +Conviction of Force being Necessary Hinders the Establishment of a +Christian Public Opinion--The Use of Violence Leads Men to +Distrust the Spiritual Force which is the Only Force by which they +Advance--Neither Nations nor Individuals have been really +Subjugated by Force, but only by Public Opinion, which no Force +can Resist--Savage Nations and Savage Men can only be Subdued by +the Diffusion of a Christian Standard among them, while actually +Christian Nations in order to Subdue them do all they can to +Destroy a Christian Standard--These Fruitless Attempts to Civilize +Savages Cannot be Adduced as Proofs that Men Cannot be Subdued by +Christianity--Violence by Corrupting Public Opinion, only Hinders +the Social Organization from being What it Ought to Be--And by the +Use of Violence being Suppressed, a Christian Public Opinion would +be Established--Whatever might be the Result of the Suppression of +Use of Force, this Unknown Future could not be Worse than the +Present Condition, and so there is no Need to Dread it--To Attain +Knowledge of the Unknown, and to Move Toward it, is the Essence of +Life. + + +Christianity in its true sense puts an end to government. So it +was understood at its very commencement; it was for that cause +that Christ was crucified. So it has always been understood by +people who were not under the necessity of justifying a Christian +government. Only from the time that the heads of government +assumed an external and nominal Christianity, men began to invent +all the impossible, cunningly devised theories by means of which +Christianity can be reconciled with government. But no honest and +serious-minded man of our day can help seeing the incompatibility +of true Christianity--the doctrine of meekness, forgiveness of +injuries, and love--with government, with its pomp, acts of +violence, executions, and wars. The profession of true +Christianity not only excludes the possibility of recognizing +government, but even destroys its very foundations. + +But if it is so, and we are right in saying that Christianity is +incompatible with government, then the question naturally presents +itself: which is more necessary to the good of humanity, in which +way is men's happiness best to be secured, by maintaining the +organization of government or by destroying it and replacing it by +Christianity? + +Some people maintain that government is more necessary for +humanity, that the destruction of the state organization would +involve the destruction of all that humanity has gained, that the +state has been and still is the only form in which humanity can +develop. The evil which we see among peoples living under a +government organization they attribute not to that type of +society, but to its abuses, which, they say, can be corrected +without destroying it, and thus humanity, without discarding the +state organization, can develop and attain a high degree of +happiness. And men of this way of thinking bring forward in +support of their views arguments which they think irrefutable +drawn from history, philosophy, and even religion. But there are +men who hold on the contrary that, as there was a time when +humanity lived without government, such an organization is +temporary, and that a time must come when men need a new +organization, and that that time has come now. And men of this +way of thinking also bring forward in support of their views +arguments which they think irrefutable from philosophy, history, +and religion. + +Volumes may be written in defense of the former view (and volumes +indeed have long ago been written and more will still be written +on that side), but much also can be written against it (and much +also, and most brilliantly, has been written--though more recently +--on this side). + +And it cannot be proved, as the champions of the state maintain, +that the destruction of government involves a social chaos, mutual +spoliation and murder, the destruction of all social institutions, +and the return of mankind to barbarism. Nor can it be proved as +the opponents of government maintain that men have already become +so wise and good that they will not spoil or murder one another, +but will prefer peaceful associations to hostilities; that of +their own accord, unaided by the state, they will make all the +arrangements that they need, and that therefore government, far +from being any aid, under show of guarding men exerts a pernicious +and brutalizing influence over them. It is impossible to prove +either of these contentions by abstract reasoning. Still less +possible is it to prove them by experiment, since the whole matter +turns on the question, ought we to try the experiment? The +question whether or not the time has come to make an end of +government would be unanswerable, except that there exists another +living means of settling it beyond dispute. + +We may dispute upon the question whether the nestlings are ready +to do without the mother-hen and to come out of the eggs, or +whether they are not yet advanced enough. But the young birds +will decide the question without any regard for our arguments when +they find themselves cramped for space in the eggs. Then they +will begin to try them with their beaks and come out of them of +their own accord. + +It is the same with the question whether the time has come to do +away with the governmental type of society and to replace it by a +new type. If a man, through the growth of a higher conscience, +can no longer comply with the demands of government, he finds +himself cramped by it and at the same time no longer needs its +protection. When this comes to pass, the question whether men are +ready to discard the governmental type is solved. And the +conclusion will be as final for them as for the young birds +hatched out of the eggs. Just as no power in the world can put +them back into the shells, so can no power in the world bring men +again under the governmental type of society when once they have +outgrown it. + +"It may well be that government was necessary and is still +necessary for all the advantages which you attribute to it," says +the man who has mastered the Christian theory of life. "I only +know that on the one hand, government is no longer necessary for +ME, and on the other hand, I can no longer carry out the measures +that are necessary to the existence of a government. Settle for +yourselves what you need for your life. I cannot prove the need +or the harm of governments in general. I know only what I need +and do not need, what I can do and what I cannot. I know that I +do not need to divide myself off from other nations, and therefore +I cannot admit that I belong exclusively to any state or nation, +or that I owe allegiance to any government. I know that I do not +need all the government institutions organized within the state, +and therefore I cannot deprive people who need my labor to give it +in the form of taxes to institutions which I do not need, which +for all I know may be pernicious. I know that I have no need of +the administration or of courts of justice founded upon force, and +therefore I can take no part in either. I know that I do not need +to attack and slaughter other nations or to defend myself from +them with arms, and therefore I can take no part in wars or +preparations for wars. It may well be that there are people who +cannot help regarding all this as necessary and indispensable. I +cannot dispute the question with them, I can only speak for +myself; but I can say with absolute certainty that I do not need +it, and that I cannot do it. And I do not need this and I cannot +do it, not because such is my own, my personal will, but because +such is the will of him who sent me into life, and gave me an +indubitable law for my conduct through life." + +Whatever arguments may be advanced in support of the contention +that the suppression of government authority would be injurious +and would lead to great calamities, men who have once outgrown the +governmental form of society cannot go back to it again. And all +the reasoning in the world cannot make the man who has outgrown +the governmental form of society take part in actions disallowed +by his conscience, any more than the full-grown bird can be made +to return into the egg-shell. + +"But even it be so," say the champions of the existing order of +things, "still the suppression of government violence can only be +possible and desirable when all men have become Christians. So +long as among people nominally Christians there are unchristian +wicked men, who for the gratification of their own lusts are ready +to do harm to others, the suppression of government authority, far +from being a blessing to others, would only increase their +miseries. The suppression of the governmental type of society is +not only undesirable so long as there is only a minority of true +Christians; it would not even be desirable if the whole of a +nation were Christians, but among and around them were still +unchristian men of other nations. For these unchristian men would +rob, outrage, and kill the Christians with impunity and would make +their lives miserable. All that would result, would be that the +bad would oppress and outrage the good with impunity. And +therefore the authority of government must not be suppressed till +all the wicked and rapacious people in the world are extinct. And +since this will either never be, or at least cannot be for a long +time to come, in spite of the efforts of individual Christians to +be independent of government authority, it ought to be maintained +in the interests of the majority. The champions of government +assert that without it the wicked will oppress and outrage the +good, and that the power of the government enables the good to +resist the wicked." + +But in this assertion the champions of the existing order of +things take for granted the proposition they want to prove. When +they say that except for the government the bad would oppress the +good, they take it for granted that the good are those who at the +present time are in possession of power, and the bad are those who +are in subjection to it. But this is just what wants proving. It +would only be true if the custom of our society were what is, or +rather is supposed to be, the custom in China; that is, that the +good always rule, and that directly those at the head of +government cease to be better than those they rule over, the +citizens are bound to remove them. This is supposed to be the +custom in China. In reality it is not so and can never be so. +For to remove the heads of a government ruling by force, it is not +the right alone, but the power to do so that is needed. So that +even in China this is only an imaginary custom. And in our +Christian world we do not even suppose such a custom, and we have +nothing on which to build up the supposition that it is the good +or the superior who are in power; in reality it is those who have +seized power and who keep it for their own and their retainers' +benefit. + +The good cannot seize power, nor retain it; to do this men must +love power. And love of power is inconsistent with goodness; but +quite consistent with the very opposite qualities--pride, cunning, +cruelty. + +Without the aggrandizement of self and the abasement of others, +without hypocrisies and deceptions, without prisons, fortresses, +executions, and murders, no power can come into existence or be +maintained. + +"If the power of government is suppressed the more wicked will +oppress the less wicked," say the champions of state authority. +But when the Egyptians conquered the Jews, the Romans conquered +the Greeks, and the Barbarians conquered the Romans, is it +possible that all the conquerors were always better than those +they conquered? And the same with the transitions of power within +a state from one personage to another: has the power always passed +from a worse person to a better one? When Louis XVI. was removed +and Robespierre came to power, and afterward Napoleon--who ruled +then, a better man or a worse? And when were better men in power, +when the Versaillist party or when the Commune was in power? When +Charles I. was ruler, or when Cromwell? And when Peter III. was +Tzar, or when he was killed and Catherine was Tzaritsa in one-half +of Russia and Pougachef ruled the other? Which was bad then, and +which was good? All men who happen to be in authority assert that +their authority is necessary to keep the bad from oppressing the +good, assuming that they themselves are the good PAR EXCELLENCE, +who protect other good people from the bad. + +But ruling means using force, and using force means doing to him +to whom force is used, what he does not like and what he who uses +the force would certainly not like done to himself. Consequently +ruling means doing to others what we would we would not they +should do unto us, that is, doing wrong. + + +To submit means to prefer suffering to using force. And to prefer +suffering to using force means to be good, or at least less wicked +than those who do unto others what they would not like themselves. + +And therefore, in all probability, not the better but the worse +have always ruled and are ruling now. There may be bad men among +those who are ruled, but it cannot be that those who are better +have generally ruled those who are worse. + +It might be possible to suppose this with the inexact heathen +definition of good; but with the clear Christian definition of +good and evil, it is impossible to imagine it. + +If the more or less good, and the more or less bad cannot be +distinguished in the heathen world, the Christian conception of +good and evil has so clearly defined the characteristics of the +good and the wicked, that it is impossible to confound them. +According to Christ's teaching the good are those who are meek and +long-suffering, do not resist evil by force, forgive injuries, and +love their enemies; those are wicked who exalt themselves, +oppress, strive, and use force. Therefore by Christ's teaching +there can be no doubt whether the good are to be found among +rulers or ruled, and whether the wicked are among the ruled or the +rulers. Indeed it is absurd even to speak of Christians ruling. + +Non-Christians, that is those who find the aim of their lives in +earthly happiness, must always rule Christians, the aim of whose +lives is the renunciation of such earthly happiness. + +This difference has always existed and has become more and more +defined as the Christian religion has been more widely diffused +and more correctly understood. + +The more widely true Christianity was diffused and the more it +penetrated men's conscience, the more impossible it was for +Christians to be rulers, and the easier it became for non- +Christians to rule them. + +"To get rid of governmental violence in a society in which all are +not true Christians, will only result in the wicked dominating the +good and oppressing them with impunity," say the champions of the +existing order of things. But it has never been, and cannot be +otherwise. So it has always been from the beginning of the world, +and so it is still. THE WICKED WILL ALWAYS DOMINATE THE GOOD, AND +WILL ALWAYS OPPRESS THEM. Cain overpowered Abel, the cunning +Jacob oppressed the guileless Esau and was in his turn deceived by +Laban, Caiaphas and Pilate oppressed Christ, the Roman emperors +oppressed Seneca, Epictetus, and the good Romans who lived in +their times. John IV. with his favorites, the syphilitic drunken +Peter with his buffoons, the vicious Catherine with her paramours, +ruled and oppressed the industrious religious Russians of their +times. + +William is ruling over the Germans, Stambouloff over the +Bulgarians, the Russian officials over the Russian people. The +Germans have dominated the Italians, now they dominate the +Hungarians and Slavonians; the Turks have dominated and still +dominate the Slavonians and Greeks; the English dominate the +Hindoos, the Mongolians dominate the Chinese. + +So that whether governmental violence is suppressed or not, the +position of good men, in being oppressed by the wicked, will be +unchanged. + +To terrify men with the prospect of the wicked dominating the good +is impossible, for that is just what has always been, and is now, +and cannot but be. + +The whole history of pagan times is nothing but a recital of the +incidents and means by which the more wicked gained possession of +power over the less wicked, and retained it by cruelties and +deceptions, ruling over the good under the pretense of guarding +the right and protecting the good from the wicked. All the +revolutions in history are only examples of the more wicked +seizing power and oppressing the good. In declaring that if their +authority did not exist the more wicked would oppress the good, +the ruling authorities only show their disinclination to let other +oppressors come to power who would like to snatch it from them. + +But in asserting this they only accuse themselves, say that their +power, i. e., violence, is needed to defend men from other +possible oppressors in the present or the future [see footnote]. + + [Footnote: I may quote in this connection the amazingly + naive and comic declaration of the Russian authorities, + the oppressors of other nationalities--the Poles, the + Germans of the Baltic provinces, and the Jews. The + Russian Government has oppressed its subjects for + centuries, and has never troubled itself about the + Little Russians of Poland, or the Letts of the Baltic + provinces, or the Russian peasants, exploited by everyone. + And now it has all of a sudden become the champion of + the oppressed--the very oppressed whom it is itself + oppressing.] + +The weakness of the use of violence lies in the fact that all the +arguments brought forward by oppressors in their own defense can +with even better reason be advanced against them. They plead the +danger of violence--most often imagined in the future--but they +are all the while continuing to practice actual violence +themselves. "You say that men used to pillage and murder in the +past, and that you are afraid that they will pillage and murder +one another if your power were no more. That may happen--or it +may not happen. But the fact that you ruin thousands of men in +prisons, fortresses, galleys, and exile, break up millions of +families and ruin millions of men, physically as well as morally, +in the army, that fact is not an imaginary but a real act of +violence, which, according to your own argument, one ought to +oppose by violence. And so you are yourselves these wicked men +against whom, according to your own argument, it is absolutely +necessary to use violence," the oppressed are sure to say to their +oppressors. And non-Christian men always do say, and think and +act on this reasoning. If the oppressed are more wicked than +their oppressors, they attack them and try to overthrow them; and +in favorable circumstances they succeed in overthrowing them, or +what is more common, they rise into the ranks of the oppressors +and assist in their acts of violence. + +So that the very violence which the champions of government hold +up as a terror--pretending that except for its oppressive power +the wicked would oppress the good--has really always existed and +will exist in human society. And therefore the suppression of +state violence cannot in any case be the cause of increased +oppression of the good by the wicked. + +If state violence ceased, there would be acts of violence perhaps +on the part of different people, other than those who had done +deeds of violence before. But the total amount of violence could +not in any case be increased by the mere fact of power passing +from one set of men to another. + +"State violence can only cease when there are no more wicked men +in society," say the champions of the existing order of things, +assuming in this of course that since there will always be wicked +men, it can never cease. And that would be right enough if it +were the case, as they assume, that the oppressors are always the +best of men, and that the sole means of saving men from evil is by +violence. Then, indeed, violence could never cease. But since +this is not the case, but quite the contrary, that it is not the +better oppress the worse, but the worse oppress the better, and +since violence will never put an end to evil, and there is, +moreover, another means of putting an end to it, the assertion +that violence will never cease is incorrect. The use of violence +grows less and less and evidently must disappear. But this will +not come to pass, as some champions of the existing order imagine, +through the oppressed becoming better and better under the +influence of government (on the contrary, its influence causes +their continual degradation), but through the fact that all men +are constantly growing better and better of themselves, so that +even the most wicked, who are in power, will become less and less +wicked, till at last they are so good as to be incapable of using +violence. + +The progressive movement of humanity does not proceed from the +better elements in society seizing power and making those who are +subject to them better, by forcible means, as both conservatives +and revolutionists imagine. It proceeds first and principally +from the fact that all men in general are advancing steadily and +undeviatingly toward a more and more conscious assimilation of the +Christian theory of life; and secondly, from the fact that, even +apart from conscious spiritual life, men are unconsciously brought +into a more Christian attitude to life by the very process of one +set of men grasping the power, and again being replaced by others. + +The worse elements of society, gaining possession of power, under +the sobering influence which always accompanies power, grow less +and less cruel, and become incapable of using cruel forms of +violence. Consequently others are able to seize their place, and +the same process of softening and, so to say, unconscious +Christianizing goes on with them. It is something like the +process of ebullition. The majority of men, having the non- +Christian view of life, always strive for power and struggle to +obtain it. In this struggle the most cruel, the coarsest, the +least Christian elements of society overpower the most gentle, +well-disposed, and Christian, and rise by means of their violence +to the upper ranks of society. And in them is Christ's prophecy +fulfilled: "Woe to you that are rich! woe unto you that are full! +woe unto you when all men shall speak well of you!" For the men +who are in possession of power and all that results from it--glory +and wealth--and have attained the various aims they set before +themselves, recognize the vanity of it all and return to the +position from which they came. Charles V., John IV., Alexander I., +recognizing the emptiness and the evil of power, renounced it +because they were incapable of using violence for their own +benefit as they had done. + +But they are not the solitary examples of this recognition of the +emptiness and evil of power. Everyone who gains a position of +power he has striven for, every general, every minister, every +millionaire, every petty official who has gained the place he has +coveted for ten years, every rich peasant who has laid by some +hundred rubles, passes through this unconscious process of +softening. + +And not only individual men, but societies of men, whole nations, +pass through this process. + +The seductions of power, and all the wealth, honor, and luxury it +gives, seem a sufficient aim for men's efforts only so long as +they are unattained. Directly a man reaches them he sees all +their vanity, and they gradually lose all their power of +attraction. They are like clouds which have form and beauty only +from the distance; directly one ascends into them, all their +splendor vanishes. + +Men who are in possession of power and wealth, sometimes even +those who have gained for themselves their power and wealth, but +more often their heirs, cease to be so eager for power, and so +cruel in their efforts to obtain it. + +Having learnt by experience, under the operation of Christian +influence, the vanity of all that is gained by violence, men +sometimes in one, sometimes in several generations lose the vices +which are generated by the passion for power and wealth. They +become less cruel and so cannot maintain their position, and are +expelled from power by others less Christian and more wicked. +Thus they return to a rank of society lower in position, but +higher in morality, raising thereby the average level of Christian +consciousness in men. But directly after them again the worst, +coarsest, least Christian elements of society rise to the top, and +are subjected to the same process as their predecessors, and again +in a generation or so, seeing the vanity of what is gained by +violence, and having imbibed Christianity, they come down again +among the oppressed, and their place is again filled by new +oppressors, less brutal than former oppressors, though more so +than those they oppress. So that, although power remains +externally the same as it was, with every change of the men in +power there is a constant increase of the number of men who have +been brought by experience to the necessity of assimilating the +Christian conception of life, and with every change--though it is +the coarsest, crudest, and least Christian who come into +possession of power, they are less coarse and cruel and more +Christian than their predecessors when they gained possession of +power. + +Power selects and attracts the worst elements of society, +transforms them, improves and softens them, and returns them to +society. + +"Such is the process by means of which Christianity, in spite of +the hindrances to human progress resulting from the violence of +power, gains more and more hold of men. Christianity penetrates +to the consciousness of men, not only in spite of the violence of +power, but also by means of it. + +And therefore the assertion of the champions of the state, that if +the power of government were suppressed the wicked would oppress +the good, not only fails to show that that is to be dreaded, since +it is just what happens now, but proves, on the contrary, that it +is governmental power which enables the wicked to oppress the +good, and is the evil most desirable to suppress, and that it is +being gradually suppressed in the natural course of things. + +"But if it be true that governmental power will disappear when +those in power become so Christian that they renounce power of +their own accord, and there are no men found willing to take their +place, and even if this process is already going on," say the +champions of the existing order, "when will that come to pass? +If, after eighteen hundred years, there are still so many eager +for power, and so few anxious to obey, there seems no likelihood +of its happening very soon--or indeed of its ever happening at +all. + +"Even if there are, as there have always been, some men who prefer +renouncing power to enjoying it, the mass of men in reserve, who +prefer dominion to subjection, is so great that it is difficult to +imagine a time when the number will be exhausted. + +"Before this Christianizing process could so affect all men one +after another that they would pass from the heathen to the +Christian conception of life, and would voluntarily abandon power +and wealth, it would be necessary that all the coarse, half-savage +men, completely incapable of appreciating Christianity or acting +upon it, of whom there are always a great many in every Christian +society, should be converted to Christianity. More than this, all +the savage and absolutely non-Christian peoples, who are so +numerous outside the Christian world, must also be converted. And +therefore, even if we admit that this Christianizing process will +some day affect everyone, still, judging by the amount of progress +it has made in eighteen hundred years, it will be many times +eighteen centuries before it will do so. And it is therefore +impossible and unprofitable to think at present of anything so +impracticable as the suppression of authority. We ought only to +try to put authority into the best hands." + +And this criticism would be perfectly just, if the transition from +one conception of life to another were only accomplished by the +single process of all men, separately and successively, realizing, +each for himself, the emptiness of power, and reaching Christian +truth by the inner spiritual path. That process goes on +unceasingly, and men are passing over to Christianity one after +another by this inner way. + +But there is also another external means by which men reach +Christianity and by which the transition is less gradual. + +This transition from one organization of life to another is not +accomplished by degrees like the sand running through the +hourglass grain after grain. It is more like the water filling a +vessel floating on water. At first the water only runs in slowly +on one side, but as the vessel grows heavier it suddenly begins to +sink, and almost instantaneously fills with water. + +It is just the same with the transitions of mankind from one +conception--and so from one organization of life--to another. At +first only gradually and slowly, one after another, men attain to +the new truth by the inner spiritual way, and follow it out in +life. But when a certain point in the diffusion of the truth has +been reached, it is suddenly assimilated by everyone, not by the +inner way, but, as it were, involuntarily. + +That is why the champions of the existing order are wrong in +arguing that, since only a small section of mankind has passed +over to Christianity in eighteen centuries, it must be many times +eighteen centuries before all the remainder do the same. For in +that argument they do not take into account any other means, +besides the inward spiritual one, by which men assimilate a new +truth and pass from one order of life to another. + +Men do not only assimilate a truth through recognizing it by +prophetic insight, or by experience of life. When the truth has +become sufficiently widely diffused, men at a lower stage of +development accept it all at once simply through confidence in +those who have reached it by the inner spiritual way, and are +applying it to life. + +Every new truth, by which the order of human life is changed and +humanity is advanced, is at first accepted by only a very small +number of men who understand it through inner spiritual intuition. +The remainder of mankind who accepted on trust the preceding truth +on which the existing order is based, are always opposed to the +diffusion of the new truth. + +But seeing that, to begin with, men do not stand still, but are +steadily advancing to a greater recognition of the truth and a +closer adaptation of their life to it, and secondly, all men in +varying degrees according to their age, their education, and their +race are capable of understanding the new truths, at first those +who are nearest to the men who have attained the new truth by +spiritual intuition, slowly and one by one, but afterward more and +more quickly, pass over to the new truth. Thus the number of men +who accept the new truth becomes greater and greater, and the +truth becomes more and more comprehensible. + +And thus more confidence is aroused in the remainder, who are at a +less advanced stage of capacity for understanding the truth. And +it becomes easier for them to grasp it, and an increasing number +accept it. + +And so the movement goes on more and more quickly, and on an ever- +increasing scale, like a snowball, till at last a public opinion +in harmony with the new truth is created, and then the whole mass +of men is carried over all at once by its momentum to the new +truth and establishes a new social order in accordance with it. + +Those men who accept a new truth when it has gained a certain +degree of acceptance, always pass over all at once in masses. +They are like the ballast with which every ship is always loaded, +at once to keep it upright and enable it to sail properly. If +there were no ballast, the ship would not be low enough in the +water, and would shift its position at the slightest change in its +conditions. This ballast, which strikes one at first as +superfluous and even as hindering the progress of the vessel, is +really indispensable to its good navigation. + +It is the same with the mass of mankind, who not individually, but +always in a mass, under the influence of a new social idea pass +all at once from one organization of life to another. This mass +always hinders, by its inertia, frequent and rapid revolutions in +the social order which have not been sufficiently proved by human +experience. And it delays every truth a long while till it has +stood the test of prolonged struggles, and has thoroughly +permeated the consciousness of humanity. + +And that is why it is a mistake to say that because only a very +small minority of men has assimilated Christianity in eighteen +centuries, it must take many times as many centuries for all +mankind to assimilate it, and that since that time is so far off +we who live in the present need not even think about it. It is a +mistake, because the men at a lower stage of culture, the, men and +the nations who are represented as the obstacle to the realization +of the Christian order of life, are the very people who always +pass over in masses all at once to any truth that has once been +recognized by public opinion. + +And therefore the transformation of human life, through which men +in power will renounce it, and there will be none anxious to take +their place, will not come only by all men consciously and +separately assimilating the Christian conception of life. It will +come when a Christian public opinion has arisen, so definite and +easily comprehensible as to reach the whole of the inert mass, +which is not able to attain truth by its own intuition, and +therefore is always under the sway of public opinion. + +Public opinion arises spontaneously and spreads for hundreds and +thousands of years, but it has the power of working on men by +infection, and with great rapidity gains a hold on great numbers +of men. + +"But," say the champions of the existing order, "even if it is +true that public opinion, when it has attained a certain degree of +definiteness and precision, can convert the inert mass of men +outside the Christian world--the non-Christian races--as well as +the coarse and depraved who are living in its midst, what proofs +have we that this Christian public opinion has arisen and is able +to replace force and render it unnecessary. + +"We must not give up force, by which the existing order is +maintained, and by relying on the vague and impalpable influence +of public opinion expose Christians to the risk of being pillaged, +murdered, and outraged in every way by the savages inside and +outside of civilized society. + +"Since, even supported by the use of force, we can hardly control +the non-Christian elements which are always ready to pour down on +us and to destroy all that has been gained by civilization, is it +likely that public opinion could take the place of force and +render us secure? And besides, how are we to find the moment when +public opinion has become strong enough to be able to replace the +use of force? To reject the use of force and trust to public +opinion to defend us would be as insane as to remove all weapons +of defense in a menagerie, and then to let loose all the lions and +tigers, relying on the fact that the animals seemed peaceable when +kept in their cages and held in check by red-hot irons. And +therefore people in power, who have been put in positions of +authority by fate or by God, have not the right to run the risk, +ruining all that has been gained by civilization, just because +they want to try an experiment to see whether public opinion is or +is not able to replace the protection given by authority." + +A French writer, forgotten now, Alphonse Karr, said somewhere, +trying to show the impossibility of doing away with the death +penalty: "Que messieurs les assassins commencent par nous donner +l'exemple." Often have I heard this BON MOT repeated by men who +thought that these words were a witty and convincing argument +against the abolition of capital punishment. And yet all the +erroneousness of the argument of those who consider that +governments cannot give up the use of force till all people are +capable of doing the same, could not be more clearly expressed +than it is in that epigram. + +"Let the murderers," say the champions of state violence, "set us +the example by giving up murder and then we will give it up." But +the murderers say just the same, only with much more right. They +say: "Let those who have undertaken to teach us and guide us set +us the example of giving up legal murder, and then we will imitate +them." And they say this, not as a jest, but seriously, because +it is the actual state of the case. + +"We cannot give up the use of violence, because we are surrounded +by violent ruffians." Nothing in our days hinders the progress of +humanity and the establishment of the organization corresponding +to its present development more than this false reasoning. Those +in authority are convinced that men are only guided and only +progress through the use of force, and therefore they confidently +make use of it to support the existing organization. The existing +order is maintained, not by force, but by public opinion, the +action of which is disturbed by the use of force. So that the +effect of using force is to disturb and to weaken the very thing +it tries to maintain. + +Violence, even in the most favorable case, when it is not used +simply for some personal aims of those in power, always punishes +under the one inelastic formula of the law what has long before +been condemned by public opinion. But there is this difference, +that while public opinion censures and condemns all the acts +opposed to the moral law, including the most varied cases in its +reprobation, the law which rests on violence only condemns and +punishes a certain very limited range of acts, and by so doing +seems to justify all other acts of the same kind which do not come +under its scope. + +Public opinion ever since the time of Moses has regarded +covetousness, profligacy, and cruelty as wrong, and censured them +accordingly. And it condemns every kind of manifestation of +covetousness, not only the appropriation of the property of others +by force or fraud or trickery, but even the cruel abuse of wealth; +it condemns every form of profligacy, whether with concubine, +slave, divorced woman, or even one's own wife; it condemns every +kind of cruelty, whether shown in blows, in ill-treatment, or in +murder, not only of men, but even of animals. The law resting on +force only punishes certain forms of covetousness, such as robbery +and swindling, certain forms of profligacy and cruelty, such as +conjugal infidelity, murder, and wounding. And in this way it +seems to countenance all the manifestations of covetousness, +profligacy, and cruelty which do not come under its narrow +definition. + +But besides corrupting public opinion, the use of force leads men +to the fatal conviction that they progress, not through the +spiritual impulse which impels them to the attainment of truth and +its realization in life, and which constitutes the only source of +every progressive movement of humanity, but by means of violence, +the very force which, far from leading men to truth, always +carries them further away from it. This is a fatal error, because +it leads men to neglect the chief force underlying their life-- +their spiritual activity--and to turn all their attention and +energy to the use of violence, which is superficial, sluggish, and +most generally pernicious in its action. + +They make the same mistake as men who, trying to set a steam +engine in motion, should turn its wheels round with their hands, +not suspecting that the underlying cause of its movement was the +expansion of the steam, and not the motion of the wheels. By +turning the wheels by hand and by levers they could only produce a +semblance of movement, and meantime they would be wrenching the +wheels and so preventing their being fit for real movement. + +That is just what people are doing who think to make men advance +by means of external force. + +They say that the Christian life cannot be established without the +use of violence, because there are savage races outside the pale +of Christian societies in Africa and in Asia (there are some who +even represent the Chinese as a danger to civilization), and that +in the midst of Christian societies there are savage, corrupt, +and, according to the new theory of heredity, congenital +criminals. And violence, they say, is necessary to keep savages +and criminals from annihilating our civilization. + +But these savages within and without Christian society, who are +such a terror to us, have never been subjugated by violence, and +are not subjugated by it now. Nations have never subjugated other +nations by violence alone. If a nation which subjugated another +was on a lower level of civilization, it has never happened that +it succeeded in introducing its organization of life by violence. +On the contrary, it was always forced to adopt the organization of +life existing in the conquered nation. If ever any of the nations +conquered by force have been really subjugated, or even nearly so, +it has always been by the action of public opinion, and never by +violence, which only tends to drive a people to further rebellion. + +When whole nations have been subjugated by a new religion, and +have become Christian or Mohammedan, such a conversion has never +been brought about because the authorities made it obligatory (on +the contrary, violence has much oftener acted in the opposite +direction), but because public opinion made such a change +inevitable. Nations, on the contrary, who have been driven by +force to accept the faith of their conquerors have always remained +antagonistic to it. + +It is just the same with the savage elements existing in the midst +of our civilized societies. Neither the increased nor the +diminished severity of punishment, nor the modifications of +prisons, nor the increase of police will increase or diminish the +number of criminals. Their number will only be diminished by the +change of the moral standard of society. No severities could put +an end to duels and vendettas in certain districts. It spite of +the number of Tcherkesses executed for robbery, they continue to +be robbers from their youth up, for no maiden will marry a +Tcherkess youth till he has given proof of his bravery by carrying +off a horse, or at least a sheep. If men cease to fight duels, +and the Tcherkesses cease to be robbers, it will not be from fear +of punishment (indeed, that invests the crime with additional +charm for youth), but through a change in the moral standard of +public opinion. It is the same with all other crimes. Force can +never suppress what is sanctioned by public opinion. On the +contrary, public opinion need only be in direct opposition to +force to neutralize the whole effect of the use of force. It has +always been so and always will be in every case of martyrdom. + +What would happen if force were not used against hostile nations +and the criminal elements of society we do not know. But we do +know by prolonged experience that neither enemies nor criminals +have been successfully suppressed by force. + +And indeed how could nations be subjugated by violence who are led +by their whole education, their traditions, and even their +religion to see the loftiest virtue in warring with their +oppressors and fighting for freedom? And how are we to suppress +by force acts committed in the midst of our society which are +regarded as crimes by the government and as daring exploits by the +people? + +To exterminate such nations and such criminals by violence is +possible, and indeed is done, but to subdue them is impossible. + +The sole guide which directs men and nations has always been and +is the unseen, intangible, underlying force, the resultant of all +the spiritual forces of a certain people, or of all humanity, +which finds its outward expression in public opinion. + +The use of violence only weakens this force, hinders it and +corrupts it, and tries to replace it by another which, far from +being conducive to the progress of humanity, is detrimental to it. + +To bring under the sway of Christianity all the savage nations +outside the pale of the Christian world--all the Zulus, Mandchoos, +and Chinese, whom many regard as savages--and the savages who live +in our midst, there is only ONE MEANS. That means is the +propagation among these nations of the Christian ideal of society, +which can only be realized by a Christian life, Christian actions, +and Christian examples. And meanwhile, though this is the ONE +ONLY MEANS of gaining a hold over the people who have remained +non-Christian, the men of our day set to work in the directly +opposite fashion to attain this result. + +To bring under the sway of Christianity savage nations who do not +attack us and whom we have therefore no excuse for oppressing, we +ought before all things to leave them in peace, and in case we +need or wish to enter into closer relations with them, we ought +only to influence them by Christian manners and Christian +teaching, setting them the example of the Christian virtues of +patience, meekness, endurance, purity, brotherhood, and love. +Instead of that we begin by establishing among them new markets +for our commerce, with the sole aim of our own profit; then we +appropriate their lands, i. e., rob them; then we sell them +spirits, tobacco, and opium, i. e., corrupt them; then we +establish our morals among them, teach them the use of violence +and new methods of destruction, i, e., we teach them nothing but +the animal law of strife, below which man cannot sink, and we do +all we can to conceal from them all that is Christian in us. +After this we send some dozens of missionaries prating to them of +the hypocritical absurdities of the Church, and then quote the +failure of our efforts to turn the heathen to Christianity as an +incontrovertible proof of the impossibility of applying the truths +of Christianity in practical life. + +It is just the same with the so-called criminals living in our +midst. To bring these people under the sway of Christianity there +is one only means, that is, the Christian social ideal, which can +only be realized among them by true Christian teaching and +supported by a true example of the Christian life. And to preach +this Christian truth and to support it by Christian example we set +up among them prisons, guillotines, gallows, preparations for +murder; we diffuse among the common herd idolatrous superstitions +to stupefy them; we sell them spirits, tobacco, and opium to +brutalize them; we even organize legalized prostitution; we give +land to those who do not need it; we make a display of senseless +luxury in the midst of suffering poverty; we destroy the +possibility of anything like a Christian public opinion, and +studiously try to suppress what Christian public opinion is +existing. And then, after having ourselves assiduously corrupted +men, we shut them up like wild beasts in places from which they +cannot escape, and where they become still more brutalized, or +else we kill them. And these very men whom we have corrupted and +brutalized by every means, we bring forward as a proof that one +cannot deal with criminals except by brute force. + +We are just like ignorant doctors who put a man, recovering from +illness by the force of nature, into the most unfavorable +conditions of hygiene, and dose him with the most deleterious +drugs, and then assert triumphantly that their hygiene and their +drugs saved his life, when the patient would have been well long +before if they had left him alone. + +Violence, which is held up as the means of supporting the +Christian organization of life, not only fails to produce that +effect, it even hinders the social organization of life from being +what it might and ought to be. The social organization is as good +as it is not as a result of force, but in spite of it. + +And therefore the champions of the existing order are mistaken in +arguing that since, even with the aid of force, the bad and non- +Christian elements of humanity can hardly be kept from attacking +us, the abolition of the use of force and the substitution of +public opinion for it would leave humanity quite unprotected. + +They are mistaken, because force does not protect humanity, but, +on the contrary, deprives it of the only possible means of really +protecting itself, that is, the establishment and diffusion of a +Christian public opinion. Only by the suppression of violence +will a Christian public opinion cease to be corrupted, and be +enabled to be diffused without hindrance, and men will then turn +their efforts in the spiritual direction by which alone they can +advance. + +"But how are we to cast off the visible tangible protection of an +armed policeman, and trust to something so intangible as public +opinion? Does it yet exist? Moreover, the condition of things in +which we are living now, we know, good or bad; we know its +shortcomings and are used to it, we know what to do, and how to +behave under present conditions. But what will happen when we +give it up and trust ourselves to something invisible and +intangible, and altogether unknown?" + +The unknown world on which they are entering in renouncing their +habitual ways of life appears itself as dreadful to them. It is +all very well to dread the unknown when our habitual position is +sound and secure. But our position is so far from being secure +that we know, beyond all doubt, that we are standing on the brink +of a precipice. If we must be afraid let us be afraid of what is +really alarming, and not what we imagine as alarming. + +Fearing to make the effort to detach ourselves from our perilous +position because the future is not fully clear to us, we are like +passengers in a foundering ship who, through being afraid to trust +themselves to the boat which would carry them to the shore, shut +themselves up in the cabin and refuse to come out of it; or like +sheep, who, terrified by their barn being on fire, huddle in a +corner and do not go out of the wide-open door. + +We are standing on the threshold of the murderous war of social +revolution, terrific in its miseries, beside which, as those who +are preparing it tell us, the horrors of 1793 will be child's +play. And can we talk of the danger threatening us from the +warriors of Dahomey, the Zulus, and such, who live so far away and +are not dreaming of attacking us, and from some thousands of +swindlers, thieves, and murderers, brutalized and corrupted by +ourselves, whose number is in no way lessened by all our +sentences, prisons, and executions? + +Moreover this dread of the suppression of the visible protection +of the policeman is essentially a sentiment of townspeople, that +is, of people who are living in abnormal and artificial +conditions. People living in natural conditions of life, not in +towns, but in the midst of nature, and carrying on the struggle +with nature, live without this protection and know how little +force can protect us from the real dangers with which we are +surrounded. There is something sickly in this dread, which is +essentially dependent on the artificial conditions in which many +of us live and have been brought up. + +A doctor, a specialist in insanity, told a story that one summer +day when he was leaving the asylum, the lunatics accompanied him +to the street door. "Come for a walk in the town with me?" the +doctor suggested to them. The lunatics agreed, and a small band +followed the doctor. But the further they proceeded along the +street where healthy people were freely moving about, the more +timid they became, and they pressed closer and closer to the +doctor, hindering him from walking. At last they all began to beg +him to take them back to the asylum, to their meaningless but +customary way of life, to their keepers, to blows, strait +waistcoats, and solitary cells. + +This is just how men of to-day huddle in terror and draw back to +their irrational manner of life, their factories, law courts, +prisons, executions, and wars, when Christianity calls them to +liberty, to the free, rational life of the future coming age. + +People ask, "How will our security be guaranteed when the existing +organization is suppressed? What precisely will the new +organization be that is to replace it? So long as we do not know +precisely how our life will be organized, we will not stir a step +forward." + +An explorer going to an unknown country might as well ask for a +detailed map of the country before he would start. + +If a man, before he passed from one stage to another, could know +his future life in full detail, he would have nothing to live for. +It is the same with the life of humanity. If it had a programme of +the life which awaited it before entering a new stage, it would be +the surest sign that it was not living, nor advancing, but simply +rotating in the same place. + +The conditions of the new order of life cannot be known by us +because we have to create them by our own labors. That is all +that life is, to learn the unknown, and to adapt our actions to +this new knowledge. + +That is the life of each individual man, and that is the life of +human societies and of humanity. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE CHRISTIAN CONCEPTION OF LIFE HAS ALREADY ARISEN IN OUR +SOCIETY, AND WILL INFALLIBLY PUT AN END TO THE PRESENT +ORGANIZATION OF OUR LIFE BASED ON FORCE--WHEN THAT WILL BE. + +The Condition and Organization of our Society are Terrible, but +they Rest only on Public Opinion, and can be Destroyed by it-- +Already Violence is Regarded from a Different Point of View; the +Number of those who are Ready to Serve the Government is +Diminishing; and even the Servants of Government are Ashamed of +their Position, and so often Do Not Perform their Duties--These +Facts are all Signs of the Rise of a Public Opinion, which +Continually Growing will Lead to No One being Willing to Enter +Government Service--Moreover, it Becomes More and More Evident +that those Offices are of No Practical Use--Men already Begin to +Understand the Futility of all Institutions Based on Violence, and +if a Few already Understand it, All will One Day Understand it-- +The Day of Deliverance is Unknown, but it Depends on Men +Themselves, on how far Each Man Lives According to the Light that +is in Him. + + +The position of Christian humanity with its prisons, galleys, +gibbets, its factories and accumulation of capital, its taxes, +churches, gin-palaces, licensed brothels, its ever-increasing +armament and its millions of brutalized men, ready, like chained +dogs, to attack anyone against whom their master incites them, +would be terrible indeed if it were the product of violence, but +it is pre-eminently the product of public opinion. And what has +been established by public opinion can be destroyed by public +opinion--and, indeed, is being destroyed by public opinion. + +Money lavished by hundreds of millions, tens of millions of +disciplined troops, weapons of astounding destructive power, all +organizations carried to the highest point of perfection, a whole +army of men charged with the task of deluding and hypnotizing the +people, and all this, by means of electricity which annihilates +distance, under the direct control of men who regard such an +organization of society not only as necessary for profit, but even +for self-preservation, and therefore exert every effort of their +ingenuity to preserve it--what an invincible power it would seem! +And yet we need only imagine for a moment what will really +inevitably come to pass, that is, the Christian social standard +replacing the heathen social standard and established with the +same power and universality, and the majority of men as much +ashamed of taking any part in violence or in profiting by it, as +they are to-day of thieving, swindling, begging, and cowardice; +and at once we see the whole of this complex, and seemingly +powerful organization of society falls into ruins of itself +without a struggle. + +And to bring this to pass, nothing new need be brought before +men's minds. Only let the mist, which veils from men's eyes the +true meaning of certain acts of violence, pass away, and the +Christian public opinion which is springing up would overpower the +extinct public opinion which permitted and justified acts of +violence. People need only come to be as much ashamed to do deeds +of violence, to assist in them or to profit by them, as they now +are of being, or being reputed a swindler, a thief, a coward, or a +beggar. And already this change is beginning to take place. We +do not notice it just as we do not notice the movement of the +earth, because we are moved together with everything around us. + +It is true that the organization of society remains in its +principal features just as much an organization based on violence +as it was one thousand years ago, and even in some respects, +especially in the preparation for war and in war itself, it +appears still more brutal. But the rising Christian ideal, which +must at a certain stage of development replace the heathen ideal +of life, already makes its influence felt. A dead tree stands +apparently as firmly as ever--it may even seem firmer because it +is harder--but it is rotten at the core, and soon must fall. It +is just so with the present order of society, based on force. The +external aspect is unchanged. There is the same division of +oppressors and oppressed, but their view of the significance and +dignity of their respective positions is no longer what it once +was. + +The oppressors, that is, those who take part in government, and +those who profit by oppression, that is, the rich, no longer +imagine, as they once did, that they are the elect of the world, +and that they constitute the ideal of human happiness and +greatness, to attain which was once the highest aim of the +oppressed. + +Very often now it is not the oppressed who strive to attain the +position of the oppressors, and try to imitate them, but on the +contrary the oppressors who voluntarily abandon the advantages of +their position, prefer the condition of the oppressed, and try to +resemble them in the simplicity of their life. + +Not to speak of the duties and occupations now openly despised, +such as that of spy, agent of secret police, moneylender, and +publican, there are a great number of professions formerly +regarded as honorable, such as those of police officials, +courtiers, judges, and administrative functionaries, clergymen, +military officers, speculators, and bankers, which are no longer +considered desirable positions by everyone, and are even despised +by a special circle of the most respected people. There are +already men who voluntarily abandon these professions which were +once reckoned irreproachable, and prefer less lucrative callings +which are in no way connected with the use of force. +And there are even rich men who, not through religious sentiment, +but simply through special sensitiveness to the social standard +that is springing up, relinquish their inherited property, +believing that a man can only justly consume what he has gained by +his own labor. + +The position of a government official or of a rich man is no +longer, as it once was, and still is among non-Christian peoples, +regarded as necessarily honorable and deserving of respect, and +under the special blessing of God. The most delicate and moral +people (they are generally also the most cultivated) avoid such +positions and prefer more humble callings that are not dependent +on the use of force. + +The best of our young people, at the age when they are still +uncorrupted by life and are choosing a career, prefer the calling +of doctor, engineer, teacher, artist, writer, or even that of +simple farmer living on his own labor, to legal, administrative, +clerical, and military positions in the pay of government, or to +an idle existence living on their incomes. + +Monuments and memorials in these days are mostly not erected in +honor of government dignitaries, or generals, or still less of +rich men, but rather of artists, men of science, and inventors, +persons who have nothing in common with the government, and often +have even been in conflict with it. They are the men whose +praises are celebrated in poetry, who are honored by sculpture and +received with triumphant jubilations. + +The best men of our day are all striving for such places of honor. +Consequently the class from which the wealthy and the government +officials are drawn grows less in number and lower in intelligence +and education, and still more in moral qualities. So that +nowadays the wealthy class and men at the head of government do +not constitute, as they did in former days, the ELITE of society; +on the contrary, they are inferior to the middle class. + +In Russia and Turkey as in America and France, however often the +government change its officials, the majority of them are self- +seeking and corrupt, of so low a moral standard that they do not +even come up the elementary requirements of common honesty +expected by the government. One may often nowadays hear from +persons in authority the naive complaint that the best people are +always, by some strange--as it seems to them--fatality, to be +found in the camp of the opposition. As though men were to +complain that those who accepted the office of hangman were--by +some strange fatality--all persons of very little refinement or +beauty of character. + +The most cultivated and refined people of our society are not +nowadays to be found among the very rich, as used formerly to be +the rule. The rich are mostly coarse money grubbers, absorbed +only, in increasing their hoard, generally by dishonest means, or +else the degenerate heirs of such money grubbers, who, far from +playing any prominent part in society, are mostly treated with +general contempt. + +And besides the fact that the class from which the servants of +government and the wealthy are drawn grows less in number and +lower in caliber, they no longer themselves attach the same +importance to their positions as they once did; often they are +ashamed of the ignominy of their calling and do not perform the +duties they are bound to perform in their position. Kings and +emperors scarcely govern at all; they scarcely ever decide upon an +internal reform or a new departure in foreign politics. They +mostly leave the decision of such questions to government +institutions or to public opinion. All their duties are reduced +to representing the unity and majesty of government. And even +this duty they perform less and less successfully. The majority +of them do not keep up their old unapproachable majesty, but +become more and more democratized and even vulgarized, casting +aside the external prestige that remained to them, and thereby +destroying the very thing it was their function to maintain. + +It is just the same with the army. Military officers of the +highest rank, instead of encouraging in their soldiers the +brutality and ferocity necessary for their work, diffuse education +among the soldiers, inculcate humanity, and often even themselves +share the socialistic ideas of the masses and denounce war. In +the last plots against the Russian Government many of the +conspirators were in the army. And the number of the disaffected +in the army is always increasing. And it often happens (there was +a case, indeed, within the last few days) that when called upon to +quell disturbances they refuse to fire upon the people. Military +exploits are openly reprobated by the military themselves, and are +often the subject of jests among them. + +It is the same with judges and public prosecutors. The judges, +whose duty it is to judge and condemn criminals, conduct the +proceedings so as to whitewash them as far as possible. So that +the Russian Government, to procure the condemnation of those whom +they want to punish, never intrust them to the ordinary tribunals, +but have them tried before a court martial, which, is only a +parody of justice. The prosecutors Themselves often refuse to +proceed, and even when they do proceed, often in spite of the law, +really defend those they ought to be accusing. The learned +jurists whose business it is to justify the violence of authority, +are more and more disposed to deny the right of punishment and to +replace it by theories of irresponsibility and even of moral +insanity, proposing to deal with those they call criminals by +medical treatment only. + +Jailers and overseers of galleys generally become the champions of +those whom they ought to torture. Police officers and detectives +are continually assisting the escape of those they ought to +arrest. The clergy preach tolerance, and even sometimes condemn +the use of force, and the more educated among them try in their +sermons to avoid the very deception which is the basis of their +position and which it is their duty to support. Executioners +refuse to perform their functions, so that in Russia the death +penalty cannot be carried out for want of executioners. And in +spite of all the advantages bestowed on these men, who are +selected from convicts, there is a constantly diminishing number +of volunteers for the post. Governors, police officials, tax +collectors often have compassion on the people and try to find +pretexts for not collecting the tax from them. The rich are not +at ease in spending their wealth only on themselves, and lavish +it on works of public utility. Landowners build schools and +hospitals on their property, and some even give up the ownership +of their land and transfer it to the cultivators, or establish +communities upon it. Millowners and manufacturers build +hospitals, schools, savings banks, asylums, and dwellings for +their workpeople. Some of them form co-operative associations in +which they have shares on the same terms as the others. +Capitalists expend a part of their capital on educational, +artistic, philanthropic, and other public institutions. And many, +who are not equal to parting with their wealth in their lifetime, +leave it in their wills to public institutions. + +All these phenomena might seem to be mere exceptions, except that +they can all be referred to one common cause. Just as one might +fancy the first leaves on the budding trees in April were +exceptional if we did not know that they all have a common cause, +the spring, and that if we see the branches on some trees shooting +and turning green, it is certain that it will soon be so with all. + +So it is with the manifestation of the Christian standard of +opinion on force and all that is based on force. If this standard +already influences some, the most impressionable, and impels each +in his own sphere to abandon advantages based on the use of force, +then its influence will extend further and further till it +transforms the whole order of men's actions and puts it into +accord with the Christian ideal which is already a living force in +the vanguard of humanity. + +And if there are now rulers, who do not decide on any step on +their own authority, who try to be as unlike monarchs, and as like +plain mortals as possible, who state their readiness to give up +their prerogatives and become simply the first citizens of a +republic; if there are already soldiers who realize all the sin +and harm of war, and are not willing to fire on men either of +their own or a foreign country; judges and prosecutors who do not +like to try and to condemn criminals; priests, who abjure +deception; tax-gatherers who try to perform as little as they can +of their duties, and rich men renouncing their wealth--then the +same thing will inevitably happen to other rulers, other soldiers, +other judges, priests, tax-gatherers, and rich men. And when +there are no longer men willing to fill these offices, these +offices themselves will disappear too. + +But this is not the only way in which public opinion is leading +men to the abolition of the prevailing order and the substitution +of a new order. As the positions based on the rule of force +become less attractive and fewer men are found willing to fill +them, the more will their uselessness be apparent. + +Everywhere throughout the Christian world the same rulers, and the +same governments, the same armies, the same law courts, the same +tax-gatherers, the same priests, the same rich men, landowners, +manufacturers, and capitalists, as ever, but the attitude of the +world to them, and their attitude to themselves is altogether +changed. + +The same sovereigns have still the same audiences and interviews, +hunts and banquets, and balls and uniforms; there are the same +diplomats and the same deliberations on alliances and wars; there +are still the same parliaments, with the same debates on the +Eastern question and Africa, on treaties and violations of +treaties, and Home Rule and the eight-hour day; and one set of +ministers replacing another in the same way, and the same speeches +and the same incidents. But for men who observe how one newspaper +article has more effect on the position of affairs than dozens of +royal audiences or parliamentary sessions, it becomes more and +more evident that these audiences and interviews and debates in +parliaments do not direct the course of affairs, but something +independent of all that, which cannot be concentrated in one +place. + +The same generals and officers and soldiers, and cannons and +fortresses, and reviews and maneuvers, but no war breaks out. One +year, ten, twenty years pass by. And it becomes less and less +possible to rely on the army for the pacification of riots, and +more and more evident, consequently, that generals, and officers, +and soldiers are only figures in solemn processions--objects of +amusement for governments--a sort of immense--and far too +expensive--CORPS DE BALLET. + +The same lawyers and judges, and the same assizes, but it becomes +more and more evident that the civil courts decide cases on the +most diverse grounds, but regardless of justice, and that criminal +trials are quite senseless, because the punishments do not attain +the objects aimed at by the judges themselves. These institutions +therefore serve no other purpose than to provide a means of +livelihood for men who are not capable of doing anything more +useful. + +The same priests and archbishops and churches and synods, but it +becomes more and more evident that they have long ago ceased to +believe in what they preach, and therefore they can convince no +one of the necessity of believing what they don't believe +themselves. + +The same tax collectors, but they are less and less capable of +taking men's property from them by force, and it becomes more and +more evident that people can collect all that is necessary by +voluntary subscription without their aid. + +The same rich men, but it becomes more and more evident that they +can only be of use by ceasing to administer their property in +person and giving up to society the whole or at least a part of +their wealth. + +And when all this has become absolutely evident to everyone, it +will be natural for men to ask themselves: "But why should we keep +and maintain all these kings, emperors, presidents, and members of +all sorts of senates and ministries, since nothing comes of all +their debates and audiences? Wouldn't it be better, as some +humorist suggested, to make a queen of india-rubber?" + +And what good to us are these armies with their generals and bands +and horses and drums? And what need is there of them when there +is no war, and no one wants to make war? and if there were a war, +other nations would not let us gain any advantage from it; while +the soldiers refuse to fire on their fellow-countrymen. + +And what is the use of these lawyers and judges who don't decide +civil cases with justice and recognize themselves the uselessness +of punishments in criminal cases? + +And what is the use of tax collectors who collect the taxes +unwillingly, when it is easy to raise all that is wanted without +them? + +What is the use of the clergy, who don't believe in what they +preach? + +And what is the use of capital in the hands of private persons, +when it can only be of use as the property of all? + +And when once people have asked themselves these questions they +cannot help coming to some decision and ceasing to support all +these institutions which are no longer of use. + +But even before those who support these institutions decide to +abolish them, the men who occupy these positions will be reduced +to the necessity of throwing them up. + +Public opinion more and more condemns the use of force, and +therefore men are less and less willing to fill positions which +rest on the use of force, and if they do occupy them, are less and +less able to make use of force in them. And hence they must become +more and more superfluous. + +I once took part in Moscow in a religious meeting which used to +take place generally in the week after Easter near the church in +the Ohotny Row. A little knot of some twenty men were collected +together on the pavement, engaged in serious religious discussion. +At the same time there was a kind of concert going on in the +buildings of the Court Club in the same street, and a police +officer noticing the little group collected near the church sent a +mounted policeman to disperse it. It was absolutely unnecessary +for the officer to disperse it. A group of twenty men was no +obstruction to anyone, but he had been standing there the whole +morning, and he wanted to do something. The policeman, a young +fellow, with a resolute flourish of his right arm and a clink of +his saber, came up to us and commanded us severely: "Move on! +what's this meeting about?" Everyone looked at the policeman, and +one of the speakers, a quiet man in a peasant's dress, answered +with a calm and gracious air, "We are speaking of serious matters, +and there is no need for us to move on; you would do better, young +man, to get off your horse and listen. It might do you good"; +and turning round he continued his discourse. The policeman +turned his horse and went off without a word. + +That is just what should be done in all cases of violence. + +The officer was bored, he had nothing to do. He had been put, +poor fellow, in a position in which he had no choice but to give +orders. He was shut off from all human existence; he could do +nothing but superintend and give orders, and give orders and +superintend, though his superintendence and his orders served no +useful purpose whatever. And this is the position in which all +these unlucky rulers, ministers, members of parliament, governors, +generals, officers, archbishops, priests, and even rich men find +themselves to some extent already, and will find themselves +altogether as time goes on. They can do nothing but give orders, +and they give orders and send their messengers, as the officer +sent the policeman, to interfere with people. And because the +people they hinder turn to them and request them not to interfere, +they fancy they are very useful indeed. + +But the time will come and is coming when it will be perfectly +evident to everyone that they are not of any use at all, and only +a hindrance, and those whom they interfere with will say gently +and quietly to them, like my friend in the street meeting, "Pray +don't interfere with us." And all the messengers and those who +send them too will be obliged to follow this good advice, that is +to say, will leave off galloping about, with their arms akimbo, +interfering with people, and getting off their horses and removing +their spurs, will listen to what is being said, and mixing with +others, will take their place with them in some real human work. + +The time will come and is inevitably coming when all institutions +based on force will disappear through their uselessness, +stupidity, and even inconvenience becoming obvious to all. + +The time must come when the men of our modern world who fill +offices based upon violence will find themselves in the position +of the emperor in Andersen's tale of "The Emperor's New Clothes," +when the child seeing the emperor undressed, cried in all +simplicity, "Look, he is naked!" And then all the rest, who had +seen him and said nothing, could not help recognizing it too. + +The story is that there was once an emperor, very fond of new +clothes. And to him came two tailors, who promised to make him +some extraordinary clothes. The emperor engages them and they +begin to sew at them, but they explain that the clothes have the +extraordinary property of remaining invisible to anyone who is +unfit for his position. The courtiers come to look at the +tailors' work and see nothing, for the men are plying their +needles in empty space. But remembering the extraordinary +property of the clothes, they all declare they see them and are +loud in their admiration. The emperor does the same himself. The +day of the procession comes in which the emperor is to go out in +his new clothes. The emperor undresses and puts on his new +clothes, that is to say, remains naked, and naked he walks through +the town. But remembering the magic property of the clothes, no +one ventures to say that he has nothing on till a little child +cries out: "Look, he is naked!" + +This will be exactly the situation of all who continue through +inertia to fill offices which have long become useless directly +someone who has no interest in concealing their uselessness +exclaims in all simplicity: "But these people have been of no use +to anyone for a long time past!" + +The condition of Christian humanity with its fortresses, cannons, +dynamite, guns, torpedoes, prisons, gallows, churches, factories, +customs offices, and palaces is really terrible. But still +cannons and guns will not fire themselves, prisons will not shut +men up of themselves, gallows will not hang them, churches will +not delude them, nor customs offices hinder them, and palaces and +factories are not built nor kept up of themselves. All those +things are the work of men. If men come to understand that they +ought not to do these things, then they will cease to be. And +already they are beginning to understand it. Though all do not +understand it yet, the advanced guard understand and the rest will +follow them. And the advanced guard cannot cease to understand +what they have once understood; and what they understand the rest +not only can but must inevitably understand hereafter. + +So that the prophecy that the time will come when men will be +taught of God, will learn war no more, will beat their swords into +plowshares and their spears into reaping-hooks, which means, +translating it into our language, the fortresses, prisons, +barracks, palaces, and churches will remain empty, and all the +gibbets and guns and cannons will be left unused, is no longer a +dream, but the definite new form of life to which mankind is +approaching with ever-increasing rapidity. + +But when will it be? + +Eighteen hundred years ago to this question Christ answered +that the end of the world (that is, of the pagan organization of +life) shall come when the tribulation of men is greater than it +has ever been, and when the Gospel of the kingdom of God, that is, +the possibility of a new organization of life, shall be preached +in the world unto all nations. (Matt. xxiv. 3-28.) But of that +day and hour knoweth no man but the Father only (Matt. xxiv. 3-6), +said Christ. For it may come any time, in such an hour as +ye think not. + +To the question when this hour cometh Christ answers that we +cannot know, but just because we cannot know when that hour is +coming we ought to be always ready to meet it, just as the master +ought to watch who guards his house from thieves, as the virgins +ought to watch with lamps alight for the bridegroom; and further, +we ought to work with all the powers given us to bring that hour +to pass, as the servants ought to work with the talents intrusted +to them. (Matt. xxiv. 43, and xxvi. 13, 14-30.) And there could +be no answer but this one. Men cannot know when the day and the +hour of the kingdom of God will come, because its coming depends +on themselves alone. + +The answer is like that of the wise man who, when asked whether it +was far to the town, answered, "Walk!" + +How can we tell whether it is far to the goal which humanity is +approaching, when we do not know how men are going toward it, +while it depends on them whether they go or do not go, stand +still, slacken their pace or hasten it? All we can know is what +we who make up mankind ought to do, and not to do, to bring about +the coming of the kingdom of God. And that we all know. And we +need only each begin to do what we ought to do, we need only each +live with all the light that is in us, to bring about at once the +promised kingdom of God to which every man's heart is yearning. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +CONCLUSION--REPENT YE, FOR THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN IS AT HAND. + +1. Chance Meeting with a Train Carrying Soldiers to Restore Order +Among the Famishing Peasants--Reason of the Expedition--How the +Decisions of the Higher Authorities are Enforced in Cases of +Insubordination on Part of the Peasants--What Happened at Orel, as +an Example of How the Rights of the Propertied Classes are +Maintained by Murder and Torture--All the Privileges of the +Wealthy are Based on Similar Acts of Violence. + +2. The Elements that Made up the Force Sent to Toula, and the +Conduct of the Men Composing it--How these Men Could Carry Out +such Acts--The Explanation is Not to be Found in Ignorance, +Conviction, Cruelty, Heartlessness, or Want of Moral Sense--They +do these Things Because they are Necessary to Support the Existing +Order, which they Consider it Every Man's Duty to Support--The +Basis of this Conviction that the Existing Order is Necessary and +Inevitable--In the Upper Classes this Conviction is Based on the +Advantages of the Existing Order for Themselves--But what Forces +Men of the Lower Classes to Believe in the Immutability of the +Existing Order, from which they Derive no Advantage, and which +they Aid in Maintaining, Facts Contrary to their Conscience?--This +is the Result of the Lower Classes being Deluded by the Upper, +Both as to the Inevitability of the Existing Order and the +Lawfulness of the Acts of Violence Needed to Maintain it-- +Deception in General--Special Form of Deception in Regard to +Military Service--Conscription. + +3. How can Men Allow that Murder is Permissible while they Preach +Principles of Morality, and How can they Allow of the Existence in +their Midst of a Military Organization of Physical Force which is +a Constant Menace to Public Security?--It is only Allowed by the +Upper Classes, who Profit by this Organization, Because their +Privileges are Maintained by it--The Upper Classes Allow it, and +the Lower Classes Carry it into Effect in Spite of their +Consciousness of the Immorality of the Deeds of Violence, the More +Readily Because Through the Arrangements of the Government the +Moral Responsibility for such Deeds is Divided among a Great +Number of Participants in it, and Everyone Throws the +Responsibility on Someone Else--Moreover, the Sense of Moral +Responsibility is Lost through the Delusion of Inequality, and the +Consequent Intoxication of Power on the Part of Superiors, and +Servility on the Part of Inferiors--The Condition of these Men, +Acting against the Dictates of their Conscience, is Like that of +Hypnotized Subjects Acting by Suggestion--The Difference between +this Obedience to Government Suggestion, and Obedience to Public +Opinion, and to the Guidance of Men of a Higher Moral Sense--The +Existing Order of Society, which is the Result of an Extinct +Public Opinion and is Inconsistent with the Already Existing +Public Opinion of the Future, is only Maintained by the +Stupefaction of the Conscience, Produced Spontaneously by Self- +interest in the Upper Classes and Through Hypnotizing in the Lower +Classes--The Conscience or the Common Sense of such Men may +Awaken, and there are Examples of its Sudden Awakening, so that +one can Never be Sure of the Deeds of Violence they are Prepared +for--It Depends Entirely on the Point which the Sense of the +Unlawfulness of Acts of Violence has Reached, and this Sense may +Spontaneously Awaken in Men, or may be Reawakened by the Influence +of Men of more Conscience. + +4. Everything Depends on the Strength of the Consciousness of +Christian Truths in Each Individual Man--The Leading Men of Modern +Times, however, do not Think it Necessary to Preach or Practice +the Truths of Christianity, but Regard the Modification of the +External Conditions of Existence within the Limit Imposed by +Governments as Sufficient to Reform the Life of Humanity--On this +Scientific Theory of Hypocrisy, which has Replaced the Hypocrisy +of Religion, Men of the Wealthy Classes Base their Justification +of their Position--Through this Hypocrisy they can Enjoy the +Exclusive Privileges of their Position by Force and Fraud, and +Still Pretend to be Christians to One Another and be Easy in their +Minds--This Hypocrisy Allows Men who Preach Christianity to Take +Part in Institutions Based on Violence--No External Reformation of +Life will Render it Less Miserable--Its Misery the Result of +Disunion Caused by Following Lies, not the Truth--Union only +Possible in Truth--Hypocrisy Hinders this Union, since Hypocrites +Conceal from themselves and Others the Truth they Know--Hypocrisy +Turns all Reforms of Life to Evil--Hypocrisy Distorts the Idea of +Good and Evil, and so Stands in the Way of the Progress of Men +toward Perfection--Undisguised Criminals and Malefactors do Less +Harm than those who Live by Legalized Violence, Disguised by +Hypocrisy--All Men Feel the Iniquity of our Life, and would Long +Ago have Transformed it if it had not been Dissimulated by +Hypocrisy--But Seem to have Reached the Extreme Limits of +Hypocrisy, and we Need only Make an Effort of Conscience to Awaken +as from a Nightmare to a Different Reality. + +5. Can Man Make this Effort?--According to the Hypocritical Theory +of the Day, Man is not Free to Transform his Life--Man is not Free +in his Actions, but he is Free to Admit or to Deny the Truth he +Knows--When Truth is Once Admitted, it Becomes the Basis of +Action--Man's Threefold Relation to Truth--The Reason of the +Apparent Insolubility of the Problem of Free Will--Man's Freedom +Consists in the Recognition of the Truth Revealed to him. There +is no Other Freedom--Recognition of Truth Gives Freedom, and Shows +the Path Along which, Willingly or Unwillingly by Mankind, Man +Must Advance--The Recognition of Truth and Real Freedom Enables +Man to Share in the Work of God, not as the Slave, but as the +Creator of Life--Men Need only Make the Effort to Renounce all +Thought of Bettering the External Conditions of Life and Bend all +their Efforts to Recognizing and Preaching the Truth they Know, to +put an End to the Existing Miserable State of Things, and to Enter +upon the Kingdom of God so far as it is yet Accessible to Man--All +that is Needed is to Make an End of Lying and Hypocrisy--But then +what Awaits us in the Future?--What will Happen to Humanity if Men +Follow the Dictates of their Conscience, and how can Life go on +with the Conditions of Civilized Life to which we are Accustomed? +--All Uneasiness on these Points may be Removed by the Reflection +that Nothing True and Good can be Destroyed by the Realization of +Truth, but will only be Freed from the Alloy of Falsehood. + +6. Our Life has Reached the Extreme Limit of Misery and Cannot be +Improved by any Systems of Organization--All our Life and all our +Institutions are Quite Meaningless--Are we Doing what God Wills of +us by Preserving our Privileges and Duties to Government?--We are +put in this Position not Because the World is so Made and it is +Inevitable, but Because we Wish it to be so, Because it is to the +Advantage of Some of us--Our Conscience is in Opposition to our +Position and all our Conduct, and the Way Out of the Contradiction +is to be Found in the Recognition of the Christian Truth: Do Not +unto Others what you Would Not they should Do unto You--As our +Duties to Self Must be Subordinated to our Duties to Others, so +Must our Duties to Others be Subordinated to our Duties to God-- +The Only Way Out of our Position Lies, if not in Renouncing our +Position and our Privileges, at Least in Recognizing our Sin and +not Justifying it nor Disguising it--The Only Object of Life is to +Learn the Truth and to Act on it--Acceptance of the Position and +of State Action Deprives Life of all Object--It is God's Will that +we should Serve Him in our Life, that is, that we should Bring +About the Greatest Unity of all that has Life, a Unity only +Possible in Truth. + + +I was finishing this book, which I had been working at for two +years, when I happened on the 9th of September to be traveling by +rail through the governments of Toula and Riazan, where the +peasants were starving last year and where the famine is even more +severe now. At one of the railway stations my train passed an +extra train which was taking a troop of soldiers under the conduct +of the governor of the province, together with muskets, +cartridges, and rods, to flog and murder these same famishing +peasants. + +The punishment of flogging by way of carrying the decrees of the +authorities into effect has been more and more frequently adopted +of late in Russia, in spite of the fact that corporal punishment +was abolished by law thirty years ago. + +I had heard of this, I had even read in the newspapers of the +fearful floggings which had been inflicted in Tchernigov, Tambov, +Saratov, Astrakhan, and Orel, and of those of which the governor +of Nijni-Novgorod, General Baranov, had boasted. But I had never +before happened to see men in the process of carrying out these +punishments. + +And here I saw the spectacle of good Russians full of the +Christian spirit traveling with guns and rods to torture and kill +their starving brethren. The reason for their expedition was as +follows: + +On one of the estates of a rich landowner the peasants had common +rights on the forest, and having always enjoyed these rights, +regarded the forest as their own, or at least as theirs in common +with the owner. The landowner wished to keep the forest entirely +to himself and began to fell the trees. The peasants lodged a +complaint. The judges in the first instance gave an unjust +decision (I say unjust on the authority of the lawyer and +governor, who ought to understand the matter), and decided the +case in favor of the landowner. All the later decisions, even +that of the senate, though they could see that the matter had been +unjustly decided, confirmed the judgment and adjudged the forest +to the landowner. He began to cut down the trees, but the +peasants, unable to believe that such obvious injustice could be +done them by the higher authorities, did not submit to the +decision and drove away the men sent to cut down the trees, +declaring that the forest belonged to them and they would go to +the Tzar before they would let them cut it down. + +The matter was referred to Petersburg, and the order was +transmitted to the governor to carry the decision of the court +into effect. The governor asked for a troop of soldiers. And +here were the soldiers with bayonets and cartridges, and moreover, +a supply of rods, expressly prepared for the purpose and heaped up +in one of the trucks, going to carry the decision of the higher +authorities into effect. + +The decisions of the higher authorities are carried into effect by +means of murder or torture, or threats of one or the other, +according to whether they offer resistance or not. + +In the first case if the peasants offer resistance the practice is +in Russia, and it is the same everywhere where a state +organization and private property exist, as follows. The governor +delivers an address in which he demands submission. The excited +crowd, generally deluded by their leaders, don't understand a word +of what the representative of authority is saying in the pompous +official language, and their excitement continues. Then the +governor announces that if they do not submit and disperse, he +will be obliged to have recourse to force. If the crowd does not +disperse even on this, the governor gives the order to fire over +the heads of the crowd. If the crowd does not even then disperse, +the governor gives the order to fire straight into the crowd; the +soldiers fire and the killed and wounded fall about the street. +Then the crowd usually runs away in all directions, and the troops +at the governor's command take those who are supposed to be the +ringleaders and lead them off under escort. Then they pick up the +dying, the wounded, and the dead, covered with blood, sometimes +women and children among them. The dead they bury and the wounded +they carry to the hospital. Those whom they regard as the +ringleaders they take to the town hall and have them tried by a +special court-martial. And if they have had recourse to violence +on their side, they are condemned to be hanged. And then the +gallows is erected. And they solemnly strangle a few defenseless +creatures. + +This is what has often been done in Russia, and is and must always +be done where the social order is based on force. + +But in the second case, when the peasants do submit, something +quite special, peculiar to Russia, takes place. The governor +arrives on the scene of action and delivers an harangue to the +people, reproaching them for their insubordination, and either +stations troops in the houses of the villages, where sometimes for +a whole month the soldiers drain the resources of the peasants, or +contenting himself with threats, he mercifully takes leave of the +people, or what is the most frequent course, he announces that the +ringleaders must be punished, and quite arbitrarily without any +trial selects a certain number of men, regarded as ringleaders, +and commands them to be flogged in his presence. + +In order to give an idea of how such things are done I will +describe a proceeding of the kind which took place in Orel, and +received the full approval of the highest authorities. + +This is what took place in Orel. Just as here in the Toula +province, a landlord wanted to appropriate the property of the +peasants and just in the same way the peasants opposed it. The +matter in dispute was a fall of water, which irrigated the +peasants' fields, and which the landowner wanted to cut off and +divert to turn his mill. The peasants rebelled against this being +done. The land owner laid a complaint before the district +commander, who illegally (as was recognized later even by a legal +decision) decided the matter in favor of the landowner, and +allowed him to divert the water course. The landowner sent +workmen to dig the conduit by which the water was to be let off to +turn the mill. The peasants were indignant at this unjust +decision, and sent their women to prevent the landowner's men from +digging this conduit. The women went to the dykes, overturned the +carts, and drove away the men. The landowner made a complaint +against the women for thus taking the law into their own hands. +The district commander made out an order that from every house +throughout the village one woman was to be taken and put in prison. +The order was not easily executed. For in every household there +were several women, and it was impossible to know which one was to +be arrested. Consequently the police did not carry out the order. +The landowner complained to the governor of the neglect on the +part of the police, and the latter, without examining into the +affair, gave the chief official of the police strict orders to +carry out the instructions of the district commander without +delay. The police official, in obedience to his superior, went to +the village and with the insolence peculiar to Russian officials +ordered his policemen to take one woman out of each house. But +since there were more than one woman in each house, and there was +no knowing which one was sentenced to imprisonment, disputes and +opposition arose. In spite of these disputes and opposition, +however, the officer of police gave orders that some woman, +whichever came first, should be taken from each household and led +away to prison. The peasants began to defend their wives and +mothers, would not let them go, and beat the police and their +officer. This was a fresh and terrible crime: resistance was +offered to the authorities. A report of this new offense was sent +to the town. And so this governor-- precisely as the governor of +Toula was doing on that day--with a battalion of soldiers with +guns and rods, hastily brought together by means of telegraphs and +telephones and railways, proceeded by a special train to the scene +of action, with a learned doctor whose duty it was to insure the +flogging being of an hygienic character. Herzen's prophecy of the +modern Ghenghis Khan with his telegrams is completely realized by +this governor. + +Before the town hall of the district were the soldiery, a +battalion of police with their revolvers slung round them with red +cords, the persons of most importance among the peasants, and the +culprits. A crowd of one thousand or more people were standing +round. The governor, on arriving, stepped out of his carriage, +delivered a prepared harangue, and asked for the culprits and a +bench. The latter demand was at first not understood. But a +police constable whom the governor always took about with him, and +who undertook to organize such executions--by no means exceptional +in that province--explained that what was meant was a bench for +flogging. A bench was brought as well as the rods, and then the +executioners were summoned (the latter had been selected +beforehand from some horsestealers of the same village, as the +soldiers refused the office). When everything was ready, the +governor ordered the first of the twelve culprits pointed out by +the landowner as the most guilty to come forward. The first to +come forward was the head of a family, a man of forty who had +always stood up manfully for the rights of his class, and +therefore was held in the greatest esteem by all the villagers. +He was led to the bench and stripped, and then ordered to lie +down. + +The peasant attempted to supplicate for mercy, but seeing it was +useless, he crossed himself and lay down. Two police constables +hastened to hold him down. The learned doctor stood by, in +readiness to give his aid and his medical science when they should +be needed. The convicts spit into their hands, brandished the +rods, and began to flog. It seemed, however, that the bench was +too narrow, and it was difficult to keep the victim writhing in +torture upon it. Then the governor ordered them to bring another +bench and to put a plank across them. Soldiers, with their hands +raised to their caps, and respectful murmurs of "Yes, your +Excellency," hasten obediently to carry out this order. Meanwhile +the tortured man, half naked, pale and scowling, stood waiting, +his eyes fixed on the ground and his teeth chattering. When +another bench had been brought they again made him lie down, and +the convicted thieves again began to flog him. + +The victim's back and thighs and legs, and even his sides, became +more and more covered with scars and wheals, and at every blow +there came the sound of the deep groans which he could no longer +restrain. In the crowd standing round were heard the sobs of +wives, mothers, children, the families of the tortured man and of +all the others picked out for punishment. + +The miserable governor, intoxicated with power, was counting the +strokes on his fingers, and never left off smoking cigarettes, +while several officious persons hastened on every opportunity to +offer him a burning match to light them. When more than fifty +strokes had been given, the peasant ceased to shriek and writhe, +and the doctor, who had been educated in a government institution +to serve his sovereign and his country with his scientific +attainments, went up to the victim, felt his pulse, listened to +his heart, and announced to the representative of authority that +the man undergoing punishment had lost consciousness, and that, in +accordance with the conclusions of science, to continue the +punishment would endanger the victim's life. But the miserable +governor, now completely intoxicated by the sight of blood, gave +orders that the punishment should go on, and the flogging was +continued up to seventy strokes, the number which the governor had +for some reason fixed upon as necessary. When the seventieth +stroke had been reached, the governor said "Enough! Next one!" +And the mutilated victim, his back covered with blood, was lifted +up and carried away unconscious, and another was led up. The sobs +and groans of the crowd grew louder. But the representative of +the state continued the torture. + +Thus they flogged each of them up to the twelfth, and each of them +received seventy strokes. They all implored mercy, shrieked and +groaned. The sobs and cries of the crowd of women grew louder and +more heart-rending, and the men's faces grew darker and darker. +But they were surrounded by troops, and the torture did not cease +till it had reached the limit which had been fixed by the caprice +of the miserable half-drunken and insane creature they called the +governor. + +The officials, and officers, and soldiers not only assisted in it, +but were even partly responsible for the affair, since by their +presence they prevented any interference on the part of the crowd. + +When I inquired of one of the governors why they made use of this +kind of torture when people had already submitted and soldiers +were stationed in the village, he replied with the important air +of a man who thoroughly understands all the subtleties of +statecraft, that if the peasants were not thoroughly subdued by +flogging, they would begin offering opposition to the decisions of +authorities again. When some of them had been thoroughly +tortured, the authority of the state would be secured forever +among them. + +And so that was why the Governor of Toula was going in his turn +with his subordinate officials, officers, and soldiers to carry +out a similar measure. By precisely the same means, i. e., by +murder and torture, obedience to the decision of the higher +authorities was to be secured. And this decision was to enable a +young landowner, who had an income of one hundred thousand, to +gain three thousand rubles more by stealing a forest from a whole +community of cold and famished peasants, to spend it, in two or +three weeks in the saloons of Moscow, Petersburg, or Paris. That +was what those people whom I met were going to do. + +After my thoughts had for two years been turned in the same +direction, fate seemed expressly to have brought me face to face +for the first time in my life with a fact which showed me +absolutely unmistakably in practice what had long been clear to me +in theory, that the organization of ur society rests, not as +people interested in maintaining the present order of things like +to imagine, on certain principles of jurisprudence, but on simple +brute force, on the murder and torture of men. + +People who own great estates or fortunes, or who receive great +revenues drawn from the class who are in want even of necessities, +the working class, as well as all those who like merchants, +doctors, artists, clerks, learned professors, coachmen, cooks, +writers, valets, and barristers, make their living about these +rich people, like to believe that the privileges they enjoy are +not the result of force, but of absolutely free and just +interchange of services, and that their advantages, far from being +gained by such punishments and murders as took place in Orel and +several parts of Russia this year, and are always taking place all +over Europe and America, have no kind of connection with these +acts of violence. They like to believe that their privileges +exist apart and are the result of free contract among people; and +that the violent cruelties perpetrated on the people also exist +apart and are the result of some general judicial, political, or +economical laws. They try not to see that they all enjoy their +privileges as a result of the same fact which forces the peasants +who have tended the forest, and who are in the direct need of it +for fuel, to give it up to a rich landowner who has taken no part +in caring for its growth and has no need of it whatever--the fact, +that is, that if they don't give it up they will be flogged or +killed. + +And yet if it is clear that it was only by means of menaces, +blows, or murder, that the mill in Orel was enabled to yield a +larger income, or that the forest which the peasants had planted +became the property of a landowner, it should be equally clear +that all the other exclusive rights enjoyed by the rich, by +robbing the poor of their necessities, rest on the same basis of +violence. If the peasants, who need land to maintain their +families, may not cultivate the land about their houses, but one +man, a Russian, English, Austrian, or any other great landowner, +possesses land enough to maintain a thousand families, though he +does not cultivate it himself, and if a merchant profiting by the +misery of the cultivators, taking corn from them at a third of its +value, can keep this corn in his granaries with perfect security +while men are starving all around him, and sell it again for three +times its value to the very cultivators he bought it from, it is +evident that all this too comes from the same cause. And if one +man may not buy of another a commodity from the other side of a +certain fixed line, called the frontier, without paying certain +duties on it to men who have taken no part whatever in its +production--and if men are driven to sell their last cow to pay +taxes which the government distributes among its functionaries, +and spends on maintaining soldiers to murder these very taxpayers- +--it would appear self-evident that all this does not come about as +the result of any abstract laws, but is based on just what was +done in Orel, and which may be done in Toula, and is done +periodically in one form or another throughout the whole world +wherever there is a government, and where there are rich and poor. + +Simply because torture and murder are not employed in every +instance of oppression by force, those who enjoy the exclusive +privileges of the ruling classes persuade themselves and others +that their privileges are not based on torture and murder, but on +some mysterious general causes, abstract laws, and so on. Yet one +would think it was perfectly clear that if men, who consider it +unjust (and all the working classes do consider it so nowadays), +still pay the principal part of the produce of their labor away to +the capitalist and the landowner, and pay taxes, though they know +to what a bad use these taxes are put, they do so not from +recognition of abstract laws of which they have never heard, but +only because they know they will be beaten and killed if they +don't do so. + +And if there is no need to imprison, beat, and kill men every time +the landlord collects his rents, every time those who are in want +of bread have to pay a swindling merchant three times its value, +every time the factory hand has to be content with a wage less +than half of the profit made by the employer, and every time a +poor man pays his last ruble in taxes, it is because so many men +have been beaten and killed for trying to resist these demands, +that the lesson has now been learnt very thoroughly. + +Just as a trained tiger, who does not eat meat put under his nose, +and jumps over a stick at the word of command, does not act thus +because he likes it, but because he remembers the red-hot irons or +the fast with which he was punished every time he did not obey; so +men submitting to what is disadvantageous or even ruinous to them, +and considered by them as unjust, act thus because they remember +what they suffered for resisting it. + +As for those who profit by the privileges gained by previous acts +of violence, they often forget and like to forget how these +privileges were obtained. But one need only recall the facts of +history, not the history of the exploits of different dynasties of +rulers, but real history, the history of the oppression of the +majority by a small number of men, to see that all the advantages +the rich have over the poor are based on nothing but flogging, +imprisonment, and murder. + +One need but reflect on the unceasing, persistent struggle of all +to better their material position, which is the guiding motive of +men of the present day, to be convinced that the advantages of the +rich over the poor could never and can never be maintained by +anything but force. + +There may be cases of oppression, of violence, and of punishments, +though they are rare, the aim of which is not to secure the +privileges of the propertied classes. But one may confidently +assert that in any society where, for every man living in ease, +there are ten exhausted by labor, envious, covetous, and often +suffering with their families from direct privation, all the +privileges of the rich, all their luxuries and superfluities, are +obtained and maintained only by tortures, imprisonment, and +murder. + +The train I met on the 9th of September going with soldiers, guns, +cartridges, and rods, to confirm the rich landowner in the +possession of a small forest which he had taken from the starving +peasants, which they were in the direst need of, and he was in no +need of at all, was a striking proof of how men are capable of +doing deeds directly opposed to their principles and their +conscience without perceiving it. + +The special train consisted of one first-class carriage for the +governor, the officials, and officers, and several luggage vans +crammed full of soldiers. The latter, smart young fellows in +their clean new uniforms, were standing about in groups or sitting +swinging their legs in the wide open doorways of the luggage vans. +Some were smoking, nudging each other, joking, grinning, and +laughing, others were munching sunflower seeds and spitting out +the husks with an air of dignity. Some of them ran along the +platform to drink some water from a tub there, and when they met +the officers they slackened their pace, made their stupid gesture +of salutation, raising their hands to their heads with serious +faces as though they were doing something of the greatest +importance. They kept their eyes on them till they had passed by +them, and then set off running still more merrily, stamping their +heels on the platform, laughing and chattering after the manner of +healthy, good-natured young fellows, traveling in lively company. + +They were going to assist at the murder of their fathers or +grandfathers just as if they were going on a party of pleasure, or +at any rate on some quite ordinary business. + +The same impression was produced by the well-dressed functionaries +and officers who were scattered about the platform and in the +first-class carriage. At a table covered with bottles was sitting +the governor, who was responsible for the whole expedition, +dressed in his half-military uniform and eating something while he +chatted tranquilly about the weather with some acquaintances he +had met, as though the business he was upon was of so simple and +ordinary a character that it could not disturb his serenity and +his interest in the change of weather. + +At a little distance from the table sat the general of the police. +He was not taking any refreshment, and had an impenetrable bored +expression, as though he were weary of the formalities to be gone +through. On all sides officers were bustling noisily about in +their red uniforms trimmed with gold; one sat at a table finishing +his bottle of beer, another stood at the buffet eating a cake, and +brushing the crumbs off his uniform, threw down his money with a +self-confident air; another was sauntering before the carriages of +our train, staring at the faces of the women. + +All these men who were going to murder or to torture the famishing +and defenseless creatures who provide them their sustenance had +the air of men who knew very well that they were doing their duty, +and some were even proud, were "glorying" in what they were doing. + +What is the meaning of it? + +All these people are within half an hour of reaching the place +where, in order to provide a wealthy young man with three thousand +rubles stolen from a whole community of famishing peasants, they +may be forced to commit the most horrible acts one can conceive, +to murder or torture, as was done in Orel, innocent beings, their +brothers. And they see the place and time approaching with +untroubled serenity. + +To say that all these government officials, officers, and soldiers +do not know what is before them is impossible, for they are +prepared for it. The governor must have given directions about +the rods, the officials must have sent an order for them, +purchased them, and entered the item in their accounts. The +military officers have given and received orders about cartridges. +They all know that they are going to torture, perhaps to kill, +their famishing fellow-creatures, and that they must set to work +within an hour. + +To say, as is usually said, and as they would themselves repeat, +that they are acting from conviction of the necessity for +supporting the state organization, would be a mistake. For in the +first place, these men have probably never even thought about +state organization and the necessity of it; in the second place, +they cannot possibly be convinced that the act in which they are +taking part will tend to support rather than to ruin the state; +and thirdly, in reality the majority, if not all, of these men, +far from ever sacrificing their own pleasure or tranquillity to +support the state, never let slip an opportunity of profiting at +the expense of the state in every way they can increase their own +pleasure and ease. So that they are not acting thus for the sake +of the abstract principle of the state. + +What is the meaning of it? + +Yet I know all these men. If I don't know all of them personally, +I know their characters pretty nearly, their past, and their way +of thinking. They certainly all have mothers, some of them wives +and children. They are certainly for the most part good, kind, +even tender-hearted fellows, who hate every sort of cruelty, not +to speak of murder; many of them would not kill or hurt an animal. +Moreover, they are all professed Christians and regard all +violence directed against the defenseless as base and disgraceful. + +Certainly not one of them would be capable in everyday life, for +his own personal profit, of doing a hundredth part of what the +Governor of Orel did. Every one of them would be insulted at the +supposition that he was capable of doing anything of the kind in +private life. + +And yet they are within half an hour of reaching the place where +they may be reduced to the inevitable necessity of committing this +crime. + +What is the meaning of it? + +But it is not only these men who are going by train prepared for +murder and torture. How could the men who began the whole +business, the landowner, the commissioner, the judges, and those +who gave the order and are responsible for it, the ministers, the +Tzar, who are also good men, professed Christians, how could they +elaborate such a plan and assent to it, knowing its consequences? +The spectators even, who took no part in the affair, how could +they, who are indignant at the sight of any cruelty in private +life, even the overtaxing of a horse, allow such a horrible deed +to be perpetrated? How was it they did not rise in indignation +and bar the roads, shouting, "No; flog and kill starving men +because they won't let their last possession be stolen from them +without resistance, that we won't allow!" But far from anyone +doing this, the majority, even of those who were the cause of the +affair, such as the commissioner, the landowner, the judge, and +those who took part in it and arranged it, as the governor, the +ministers, and the Tzar, are perfectly tranquil and do not even +feel a prick of conscience. And apparently all the men who are +going to carry out this crime are equally undisturbed. + +The spectators, who one would suppose could have no personal +interest in the affair, looked rather with sympathy than with +disapproval at all these people preparing to carry out this +infamous action. In the same compartment with me was a wood +merchant, who had risen from a peasant. He openly expressed aloud +his sympathy with such punishments. "They can't disobey the +authorities," he said; "that's what the authorities are for. Let +them have a lesson; send their fleas flying! They'll give over +making commotions, I warrant you. That's what they want." + +What is the meaning of it? + +It is not possible to say that all these people who have provoked +or aided or allowed this deed are such worthless creatures that, +knowing all the infamy of what they are doing, they do it against +their principles, some for pay and for profit, others through fear +of punishment. All of them in certain circumstances know how to +stand up for their principles. Not one of these officials would +steal a purse, read another man's letter, or put up with an +affront without demanding satisfaction. Not one of these officers +would consent to cheat at cards, would refuse to pay a debt of +honor, would betray a comrade, run away on the field of battle, or +desert the flag. Not one of these soldiers would spit out the +holy sacrament or eat meat on Good Friday. All these men are +ready to face any kind of privation, suffering, or danger rather +than consent to do what they regard as wrong. They have therefore +the strength to resist doing what is against their principles. + +It is even less possible to assert that all these men are such +brutes that it is natural and not distasteful to them to do such +deeds. One need only talk to these people a little to see that +all of them, the landowner even, and the judge, and the minister +and the Tzar and the government, the officers and the soldiers, +not only disapprove of such things in the depth of their soul, but +suffer from the consciousness of their participation in them when +they recollect what they imply. But they try not to think about +it. + +One need only talk to any of these who are taking part in the +affair from the landowner to the lowest policeman or soldier to +see that in the depth of their soul they all know it is a wicked +thing, that it would be better to have nothing to do with it, and +are suffering from the knowledge. + +A lady of liberal views, who was traveling in the same train with +us, seeing the governor and the officers in the first-class saloon +and learning the object of the expedition, began, intentionally +raising her voice so that they should hear, to abuse the existing +order of things and to cry shame on men who would take part in +such proceedings. Everyone felt awkward, none knew where to look, +but no one contradicted her. They tried to look as though such +remarks were not worth answering. But one could see by their +faces and their averted eyes that they were ashamed. I noticed +the same thing in the soldiers. They too knew that what they were +sent to do was a shameful thing, but they did not want to think +about what was before them. + +When the wood merchant, as I suspect insincerely only to show that +he was a man of education, began to speak of the necessity of such +measures, the soldiers who heard him all turned away from him, +scowling and pretending not to hear. + +All the men who, like the landowner, the commissioner, the +minister, and the Tzar, were responsible for the perpetration of +this act, as well as those who were now going to execute it, and +even those who were mere spectators of it, knew that it was a +wickedness, and were ashamed of taking any share in it, and even +of being present at it. + +Then why did they do it, or allow it to be done? + +Ask them the question. And the landowner who started the affair, +and the judge who pronounced a clearly unjust even though formally +legal decision, and those who commanded the execution of the +decision, and those who, like the policemen, soldiers, and +peasants, will execute the deed with their own hands, flogging and +killing their brothers, all who have devised, abetted, decreed, +executed, or allowed such crimes, will make substantially the same +reply. + +The authorities, those who have started, devised, and decreed the +matter, will say that such acts are necessary for the maintenance +of the existing order; the maintenance of the existing order is +necessary for the welfare of the country and of humanity, for the +possibility of social existence and human progress. + +Men of the poorer class, peasants and soldiers, who will have to +execute the deed of violence with their own hands, say that they +do so because it is the command of their superior authority, and +the superior authority knows what he is about. That those are in +authority who ought to be in authority, and that they know what +they are doing appears to them a truth of which there can be no +doubt. If they could admit the possibility of mistake or error, +it would only be in functionaries of a lower grade; the highest +authority on which all the rest depends seems to them immaculate +beyond suspicion. + +Though expressing the motives of their conduct differently, both +those in command and their subordinates are agreed in saying that +they act thus because the existing order is the order which must +and ought to exist at the present time, and that therefore to +support it is the sacred duty of every man. + +On this acceptance of the necessity and therefore immutability of +the existing order, all who take part in acts of violence on the +part of government base the argument always advanced in their +justification. "Since the existing order is immutable," they say, +"the refusal of a single individual to perform the duties laid +upon him will effect no change in things, and will only mean that +some other man will be put in his place who may do the work worse, +that is to say, more cruelly, to the still greater injury of the +victims of the act of violence." + +This conviction that the existing order is the necessary and +therefore immutable order, which it is a sacred duty for every man +to support, enables good men, of high principles in private life, +to take part with conscience more or less untroubled in crimes +such as that perpetrated in Orel, and that which the men in the +Toula train were going to perpetrate. + +But what is this conviction based on? It is easy to understand +that the landowner prefers to believe that the existing order is +inevitable and immutable, because this existing order secures him +an income from his hundreds and thousands of acres, by means of +which he can lead his habitual indolent and luxurious life. + +It is easy to understand that the judge readily believes in the +necessity of an order of things through which he receives a wage +fifty times as great as the most industrious laborer can earn, and +the same applies to all the higher officials. It is only under +the existing REGIME that as governor, prosecutor, senator, members +of the various councils, they can receive their several thousands +of rubles a year, without which they and their families would at +once sink into ruin, since if it were not for the position they +occupy they would never by their own abilities, industry, or +acquirements get a thousandth part of their salaries. The +minister, the Tzar, and all the higher authorities are in the same +position. The only distinction is that the higher and the more +exceptional their position, the more necessary it is for them to +believe that the existing order is the only possible order of +things. For without it they would not only be unable to gain an +equal position, but would be found to fall lower than all other +people. A man who has of his own free will entered the police +force at a wage of ten rubles, which he could easily earn in any +other position, is hardly dependent on the preservation of the +existing REGIME, and so he may not believe in its immutability. +But a king or an emperor, who receives millions for his post, and +knows that there are thousands of people round him who would like +to dethrone him and take his place, who knows that he will never +receive such a revenue or so much honor in any other position, who +knows, in most cases through his more or less despotic rule, that +if he were dethroned he would have to answer for all his abuse of +power--he cannot but believe in the necessity and even sacredness +of the existing order. The higher and the more profitable a man's +position, the more unstable it becomes, and the more terrible and +dangerous a fall from it for him, the more firmly the man believes +in the existing order, and therefore with the more ease of +conscience can such a man perpetrate cruel and wicked acts, as +though they were not in his own interest, but for the maintenance +of that order. + +This is the case with all men in authority, who occupy positions +more profitable than they could occupy except for the present +REGIME, from the lowest police officer to the Tzar. All of them +are more or less convinced that the existing order is immutable, +because--the chief consideration--it is to their advantage. But +the peasants, the soldiers, who are at the bottom of the social +scale, who have no kind of advantage from the existing order, who +are in the very lowest position of subjection and humiliation, +what forces them to believe that the existing order in which they +are in their humble and disadvantageous position is the order +which ought to exist, and which they ought to support even at the +cost of evil actions contrary to their conscience? + +What forces these men to the false reasoning that the existing +order is unchanging, and that therefore they ought to support it, +when it is so obvious, on the contrary, that it is only unchanging +because they themselves support it? + +What forces these peasants, taken only yesterday from the plow and +dressed in ugly and unseemly costumes with blue collars and gilt +buttons, to go with guns and sabers and murder their famishing +fathers and brothers? They gain no kind of advantage and can be +in no fear of losing the position they occupy, because it is worse +than that from which they have been taken. + +The persons in authority of the higher orders--landowners, +merchants, judges, senators, governors, ministers, tzars, and +officers--take part in such doings because the existing order is +to their advantage. In other respects they are often good and +kind-hearted men, and they are more able to take part in such +doings because their share in them is limited to suggestions, +decisions, and orders. These persons in authority never do +themselves what they suggest, decide, or command to be done. For +the most part they do not even see how all the atrocious deeds +they have suggested and authorized are carried out. But the +unfortunate men of the lower orders, who gain no kind of advantage +from the existing REGIME, but, on the contrary, are treated with +the utmost contempt, support it even by dragging people with their +own hands from their families, handcuffing them, throwing them in +prison, guarding them, shooting them. + +Why do they do it? What forces them to believe that the existing +order is unchanging and they must support it? + +All violence rests, we know, on those who do the beating, the +handcuffing, the imprisoning, and the killing with their own +hands. If there were no soldiers or armed policemen, ready to +kill or outrage anyone as they are ordered, not one of those +people who sign sentences of death, imprisonment, or galley- +slavery for life would make up his mind to hang, imprison, or +torture a thousandth part of those whom, quietly sitting in his +study, he now orders to be tortured in all kinds of ways, simply +because he does not see it nor do it himself, but only gets it +done at a distance by these servile tools. + +All the acts of injustice and cruelty which are committed in the +ordinary course of daily life have only become habitual because +there are these men always ready to carry out such acts of +injustice and cruelty. If it were not for them, far from anyone +using violence against the immense masses who are now ill-treated, +those who now command their punishment would not venture to +sentence them, would not even dare to dream of the sentences they +decree with such easy confidence at present. And if it were not +for these men, ready to kill or torture anyone at their +commander's will, no one would dare to claim, as all the idle +landowners claim with such assurance, that a piece of land, +surrounded by peasants, who are in wretchedness from want of land, +is the property of a man who does not cultivate it, or that stores +of corn taken by swindling from the peasants ought to remain +untouched in the midst of a population dying of hunger because the +merchants must make their profit. If it were not for these +servile instruments at the disposal of the authorities, it could +never have entered the head of the landowner to rob the peasants +of the forest they had tended, nor of the officials to think they +are entitled to their salaries, taken from the famishing people, +the price of their oppression; least of all could anyone dream of +killing or exiling men for exposing falsehood and telling the +truth. All this can only be done because the authorities are +confidently assured that they have always these servile tools at +hand, ready to carry all their demands into effect by means of +torture and murder. + +All the deeds of violence of tyrants from Napoleon to the lowest +commander of a company who fires upon a crowd, can only be +explained by the intoxicating effect of their absolute power over +these slaves. All force, therefore, rests on these men, who carry +out the deeds of violence with their own hands, the men who serve +in the police or the army, especially the army, for the police +only venture to do their work because the army is at their back. + +What, then, has brought these masses of honest men, on whom the +whole thing depends, who gain nothing by it, and who have to do +these atrocious deeds with their own hands, what has brought them +to accept the amazing delusion that the existing order, +unprofitable, ruinous, and fatal as it is for them, is the order +which ought to exist? + +Who has led them into this amazing delusion? + +They can never have persuaded themselves that they ought to do +what is against their conscience, and also the source of misery +and ruin for themselves, and all their class, who make up nine- +tenths of the population. + +"How can you kill people, when it is written in God's commandment: +'Thou shalt not kill'?" I have often inquired of different +soldiers. And I always drove them to embarrassment and confusion +by reminding them of what they did not want to think about. They +knew they were bound by the law of God, "Thou shalt not kill," and +knew too that they were bound by their duty as soldiers, but had +never reflected on the contradiction between these duties. The +drift of the timid answers I received to this question was always +approximately this: that killing in war and executing criminals by +command of the government are not included in the general +prohibition of murder. But when I said this distinction was not +made in the law of God, and reminded them of the Christian duty of +fraternity, forgiveness of injuries, and love, which could not be +reconciled with murder, the peasants usually agreed, but in their +turn began to ask me questions. "How does it happen," they +inquired, "that the government [which according to their ideas +cannot do wrong] sends the army to war and orders criminals to be +executed." When I answered that the government does wrong in +giving such orders, the peasants fell into still greater +confusion, and either broke off the conversation or else got angry +with me. + +"They must have found a law for it. The archbishops know as much +about it as we do, I should hope," a Russian soldier once observed +to me. And in saying this the soldier obviously set his mind at +rest, in the full conviction that his spiritual guides had found a +law which authorized his ancestors, and the tzars and their +descendants, and millions of men, to serve as he was doing +himself, and that the question I had put him was a kind of hoax or +conundrum on my part. + +Everyone in our Christian society knows, either by tradition or by +revelation or by the voice of conscience, that murder is one of +the most fearful crimes a man can commit, as the Gospel tells us, +and that the sin of murder cannot be limited to certain persons, +that is, murder cannot be a sin for some and not a sin for others. +Everyone knows that if murder is a sin, it is always a sin, +whoever are the victims murdered, just like the sin of adultery, +theft, or any other. At the same time from their childhood up men +see that murder is not only permitted, but even sanctioned by the +blessing of those whom they are accustomed to regard as their +divinely appointed spiritual guides, and see their secular leaders +with calm assurance organizing murder, proud to wear murderous +arms, and demanding of others in the name of the laws of the +country, and even of God, that they should take part in murder. +Men see that there is some inconsistency here, but not being able +to analyze it, involuntarily assume that this apparent +inconsistency is only the result of their ignorance. The very +grossness and obviousness of the inconsistency confirms them in +this conviction. + +They cannot imagine that the leaders of civilization, the +educated classes, could so confidently preach two such opposed +principles as the law of Christ and murder. A simple uncorrupted +youth cannot imagine that those who stand so high in his opinion, +whom he regards as holy or learned men, could for any object +whatever mislead him so shamefully. But this is just what has +always been and always is done to him. It is done (1) by +instilling, by example and direct instruction, from childhood up, +into the working people, who have not time to study moral and +religious questions for themselves, the idea that torture and +murder are compatible with Christianity, and that for certain +objects of state, torture and murder are not only admissible, but +ought to be employed; and (2) by instilling into certain of the +people, who have either voluntarily enlisted or been taken by +compulsion into the army, the idea that the perpetration of murder +and torture with their own hands is a sacred duty, and even a +glorious exploit, worthy of praise and reward. + +The general delusion is diffused among all people by means of the +catechisms or books, which nowadays replace them, in use for the +compulsory education of children. In them it is stated that +violence, that is, imprisonment and execution, as well as murder +in civil or foreign war in the defense and maintenance of the +existing state organization (whatever that may be, absolute or +limited monarchy, convention, consulate, empire of this or that +Napoleon or Boulanger, constitutional monarchy, commune or +republic) is absolutely lawful and not opposed to morality and +Christianity. + +This is stated in all catechisms or books used in schools. And +men are so thoroughly persuaded of it that they grow up, live and +die in that conviction without once entertaining a doubt about it. + +This is one form of deception, the general deception instilled +into everyone, but there is another special deception practiced +upon the soldiers or police who are picked out by one means or +another to do the torturing and murdering necessary to defend and +maintain the existing REGIME. + +In all military instructions there appears in one form or another +what is expressed in the Russian military code in the following +words: + +ARTICLE 87. To carry out exactly and without comment the orders +of a superior officer means: to carry out an order received from a +superior officer exactly without considering whether it is good or +not, and whether it is possible to carry it out. The superior +officer is responsible for the consequences of the order he gives. + +ARTICLE 88. The subordinate ought never to refuse to carry out +the orders of a superior officer except when he sees clearly that +in carrying out his superior officer's command, he breaks [the law +of God, one involuntarily expects; not at all] HIS OATH OF +FIDELITY AND ALLEGIANCE TO THE TZAR. + +It is here said that the man who is a soldier can and ought to +carry out all the orders of his superior without exception. And +as these orders for the most part involve murder, it follows that +he ought to break all the laws of God and man. The one law he may +not break is that of fidelity and allegiance to the man who +happens at a given moment to be in power. + +Precisely the same thing is said in other words in all codes of +military instruction. And it could not be otherwise, since the +whole power of the army and the state is based in reality on this +delusive emancipation of men from their duty to God and their +conscience, and the substitution of duty to their superior officer +for all other duties. + +This, then, is the foundation of the belief of the lower classes +that the existing REGIME so fatal for them is the REGIME which +ought to exist, and which they ought therefore to support even by +torture and murder. + +This belief is founded on a conscious deception practiced on them +by the higher classes. + +And it cannot be otherwise. To compel the lower classes, which +are more numerous, to oppress and ill treat themselves, even at +the cost of actions opposed to their conscience, it was necessary +to deceive them. And it has been done accordingly. + +Not many days ago I saw once more this shameless deception being +openly practiced, and once more I marveled that it could be +practiced so easily and impudently. + +At the beginning of November, as I was passing through Toula, I +saw once again at the gates of the Zemsky Courthouse the crowd of +peasants I had so often seen before, and heard the drunken shouts +of the men mingled with the pitiful lamentations of their wives +and mothers. It was the recruiting session. + +I can never pass by the spectacle. It attracts me by a kind of +fascination of repulsion. I again went into the crowd, took my +stand among the peasants, looked about and asked questions. And +once again I was amazed that this hideous crime can be perpetrated +so easily in broad daylight and in the midst of a large town. + +As the custom is every year, in all the villages and hamlets of +the one hundred millions of Russians, on the 1st of November, the +village elders had assembled the young men inscribed on the lists, +often their own sons among them, and had brought them to the town. + +On the road the recruits have been drinking without intermission, +unchecked by the elders, who feel that going on such an insane +errand, abandoning their wives and mothers and renouncing all they +hold sacred in order to become a senseless instrument of +destruction, would be too agonizing if they were not stupefied +with spirits. + +And so they have come, drinking, swearing, singing, fighting and +scuffling with one another. They have spent the night in taverns. +In the morning they have slept off their drunkenness and have +gathered together at the Zemsky Court-house. + +Some of them, in new sheepskin pelisses, with knitted scarves +round their necks, their eyes swollen from drinking, are shouting +wildly to one another to show their courage; others, crowded near +the door, are quietly and mournfully waiting their turn, between +their weeping wives and mothers (I had chanced upon the day of the +actual enrolling, that is, the examination of those whose names +are on the list); others meantime were crowding into the hall of +the recruiting office. + +Inside the office the work was going on rapidly. The door is +opened and the guard calls Piotr Sidorov. Piotr Sidorov starts, +crosses himself, and goes into a little room with a glass door, +where the conscripts undress. A comrade of Piotr Sidorov's, who +has just been passed for service, and come naked out of the +revision office, is dressing hurriedly, his teeth chattering. +Sidorov has already heard the news, and can see from his face too +that he has been taken. He wants to ask him questions, but they +hurry him and tell him to make haste and undress. He throws off +his pelisse, slips his boots off his feet, takes off his waistcoat +and draws his shirt over his head, and naked, trembling all over, +and exhaling an odor of tobacco, spirits, and sweat, goes into the +revision office, not knowing what to do with his brawny bare arms. + +Directly facing him in the revision office hangs in a great gold +frame a portrait of the Tzar in full uniform with decorations, and +in the corner a little portrait of Christ in a shirt and a crown +of thorns. In the middle of the room is a table covered with +green cloth, on which there are papers lying and a three-cornered +ornament surmounted by an eagle-- the zertzal. Round the table are +sitting the revising officers, looking collected and indifferent. +One is smoking a cigarette; another is looking through some +papers. Directly Sidorov comes in, a guard goes up to him, places +him under the measuring frame, raising him under his chin, and +straightening his legs. + +The man with the cigarette--he is the doctor--comes up, and +without looking at the recruit's face, but somewhere beyond it, +feels his body over with an air of disgust, measures him, tests +him, tells the guard to open his mouth, tells him to breathe, to +speak. Someone notes something down. At last without having once +looked him in the face the doctor says, "Right. Next one!" and +with a weary air sits down again at the table. The soldiers again +hustle and hurry the lad. He somehow gets into his trousers, +wraps his feet in rags, puts on his boots, looks for his scarf and +cap, and bundles his pelisse under his arm. Then they lead him +into the main hall, shutting him off apart from the rest by a +bench, behind which all the conscripts who have been passed for +service are waiting. Another village lad like himself, but from a +distant province, now a soldier armed with a gun with a sharp- +pointed bayonet at the end, keeps watch over him, ready to run him +through the body if he should think of trying to escape. + +Meantime the crowd of fathers, mothers, and wives, hustled by the +police, are pressing round the doors to hear whose lad has been +taken, whose is let off. One of the rejected comes out and +announces that Piotr is taken, and at once a shrill cry is heard +from Piotr's young wife, for whom this word "taken" means +separation for four or five years, the life of a soldier's wife as +a servant, often a prostitute. + +But here comes a man along the street with flowing hair and in a +peculiar dress, who gets out of his droskhy and goes into the +Zemsky Court-house. The police clear a way for him through the +crowd. It is the "reverend father" come to administer the oath. +And this "father," who has been persuaded that he is specially and +exclusively devoted to the service of Christ, and who, for the +most part, does not himself see the deception in which he lives, +goes into the hall where the conscripts are waiting. He throws +round him a kind of curtain of brocade, pulls his long hair out +over it, opens the very Gospel in which swearing is forbidden, +takes the cross, the very cross on which Christ was crucified +because he would not do what this false servant of his is telling +men to do, and puts them on the lectern. And all these unhappy, +defenseless, and deluded lads repeat after him the lie, which he +utters with the assurance of familiarity. + +He reads and they repeat after him: + +"I promise and swear by Almighty God upon his holy Gospel," etc., +"to defend," etc., and that is, to murder anyone I am told to, and +to do everything I am told by men I know nothing of, and who care +nothing for me except as an instrument for perpetrating the crimes +by which they are kept in their position of power, and my brothers +in their condition of misery. All the conscripts repeat these +ferocious words without thinking. And then the so-called +"father" goes away with a sense of having correctly and +conscientiously done his duty. And all these poor deluded lads +believe that these nonsensical and incomprehensible words which +they have just uttered set them free for the whole time of their +service from their duties as men, and lay upon them fresh and more +binding duties as soldiers. + +And this crime is perpetrated publicly and no one cries out to the +deceiving and the deceived: "Think what you are doing; this is the +basest, falsest lie, by which not bodies only, but souls too, are +destroyed." + +No one does this. On the contrary, when all have been enrolled, +and they are to be let out again, the military officer goes with a +confident and majestic air into the hall where the drunken, +cheated lads are shut up, and cries in a bold, military voice: +"Your health, my lads! I congratulate you on 'serving the Tzar!'" +And they, poor fellows (someone has given them a hint beforehand), +mutter awkwardly, their voices thick with drink, something to the +effect that they are glad. + +Meantime the crowd of fathers, mothers, and wives is standing at +the doors waiting. The women keep their tearful eyes fixed on the +doors. They open at last, and out come the conscripts, unsteady, +but trying to put a good face on it. Here are Piotr and Vania and +Makar trying not to look their dear ones in the face. Nothing is +heard but the wailing of the wives and mothers. Some of the lads +embrace them and weep with them, others make a show of courage, +and others try to comfort them. + +The wives and mothers, knowing that they will be left for three, +four, or five years without their breadwinners, weep and rehearse +their woes aloud. The fathers say little. They only utter a +clucking sound with their tongues and sigh mournfully, knowing +that they will see no more of the steady lads they have reared and +trained to help them, that they will come back not the same quiet +hard-working laborers, but for the most part conceited and +demoralized, unfitted for their simple life. + +And then all the crowd get into their sledges again and move away +down the street to the taverns and pot-houses, and louder than +ever sounds the medley of singing and sobbing, drunken shouts, and +the wailing of the wives and mothers, the sounds of the accordeon +and oaths. They all turn into the taverns, whose revenues go to +the government, and the drinking bout begins, which stifles their +sense of the wrong which is being done them. + +For two or three weeks they go on living at home, and most of that +time they are "jaunting," that is, drinking. + +On a fixed day they collect them, drive them together like a flock +of sheep, and begin to train them in the military exercises and +drill. Their teachers are fellows like themselves, only deceived +and brutalized two or three years sooner. The means of +instruction are: deception, stupefaction, blows, and vodka. And +before a year has passed these good, intelligent, healthy-minded +lads will be as brutal beings as their instructors. + +"Come, now, suppose your father were arrested and tried to make +his escape?" I asked a young soldier. + +"I should run him through with my bayonet," he answered with the +foolish intonation peculiar to soldiers; "and if he made off, I +ought to shoot him," he added, obviously proud of knowing what he +must do if his father were escaping. + +And when a good-hearted lad has been brought to a state lower than +that of a brute, he is just what is wanted by those who use him as +an instrument of violence. He is ready; the man has been +destroyed and a new instrument of violence has been created. And +all this is done every year, every autumn, everywhere, through all +Russia in broad daylight in the midst of large towns, where all +may see it, and the deception is so clever, so skillful, that +though all men know the infamy of it in their hearts, and see all +its horrible results, they cannot throw it off and be free. + +When one's eyes are opened to this awful deception practiced upon +us, one marvels that the teachers of the Christian religion and of +morals, the instructors of youth, or even the good-hearted and +intelligent parents who are to be found in every society, can +teach any kind of morality in a society in which it is openly +admitted (it is so admitted, under all governments and all +churches) that murder and torture form an indispensable element in +the life of all, and that there must always be special men trained +to kill their fellows, and that any one of us may have to become +such a trained assassin. + +How can children, youths, and people generally be taught any kind +of morality--not to speak of teaching in the spirit of +Christianity--side by side with the doctrine that murder is +necessary for the public weal, and therefore legitimate, and that +there are men, of whom each of us may have to be one, whose duty +is to murder and torture and commit all sorts of crimes at the +will of those who are in possession of authority. If this is so, +and one can and ought to murder and torture, there is not, and +cannot be, any kind of moral law, but only the law that might is +right. And this is just how it is. In reality that is the +doctrine--justified to some by the theory of the struggle for +existence--which reigns in our society. + +And, indeed, what sort of ethical doctrine could admit the +legitimacy of murder for any object whatever? It is as impossible +as a theory of mathematics admitting that two is equal to three. + +There may be a semblance of mathematics admitting that two is +equal to three, but there can be no real science of mathematics. +And there can only be a semblance of ethics in which murder in the +shape of war and the execution of criminals is allowed, but no +true ethics. The recognition of the life of every man as sacred +is the first and only basis of all ethics. + +The doctrine of an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth has been +abrogated by Christianity, because it is the justification of +immorality, and a mere semblance of equity, and has no real +meaning. Life is a value which has no weight nor size, and cannot +be compared to any other, and so there is no sense in destroying a +life for a life. Besides, every social law aims at the +amelioration of man's life. What way, then, can the annihilation +of the life of some men ameliorate men's life? Annihilation of +life cannot be a means of the amelioration of life; it is a +suicidal act. + +To destroy another life for the sake of justice is as though a +man, to repair the misfortune of losing one arm, should cut off +the other arm for the sake of equity. + +But putting aside the sin of deluding men into regarding the most +awful crime as a duty, putting aside the revolting sin of using +the name and authority of Christ to sanction what he most +condemned, not to speak of the curse on those who cause these +"little ones" to offend--how can people who cherish their own way +of life, their progress, even from the point of view of their +personal security, allow the formation in their midst of an +overwhelming force as senseless, cruel, and destructive as every +government is organized on the basis of an army? Even the most +cruel band of brigands is not so much to be dreaded as such a +government. + +The power of every brigand chief is at least so far limited that +the men of his band preserve at least some human liberty, and can +refuse to commit acts opposed to their conscience. But, owing to +the perfection to which the discipline of the army has been +brought, there is no limit to check men who form part of a +regularly organized government. There are no crimes so revolting +that they would not readily be committed by men who form part of a +government or army, at the will of anyone (such as Boulanger, +Napoleon, or Pougachef) who may chance to be at their head. + +Often when one sees conscription levies, military drills and +maneuvers, police officers with loaded revolvers, and sentinels at +their posts with bayonets on their rifles; when one hears for +whole days at a time (as I hear it in Hamovniky where I live) the +whistle of balls and the dull thud as they fall in the sand; when +one sees in the midst of a town where any effort at violence in +self-defense is forbidden, where the sale of powder and of +chemicals, where furious driving and practicing as a doctor +without a diploma, and so on, are not allowed; thousands of +disciplined troops, trained to murder, and subject to one man's +will; one asks oneself how can people who prize their security +quietly allow it, and put up with it? Apart from the immorality +and evil effects of it, nothing can possibly be more unsafe. What +are people thinking about? I don't mean now Christians, ministers +of religion, philanthropists, and moralists, but simply people who +value their life, their security, and their comfort. This +organization, we know, will work just as well in one man's hands +as another's. To-day, let us assume, power is in the hands of a +ruler who can be endured, but to-morrow it may be seized by a +Biron, an Elizabeth, a Catherine, a Pougachef, a Napoleon I., or a +Napoleon III. + +And the man in authority, endurable to-day, may become a brute to- +morrow, or may be succeeded by a mad or imbecile heir, like the +King of Bavaria or our Paul I. + +And not only the highest authorities, but all little satraps +scattered over everywhere, like so many General Baranovs, +governors, police officers even, and commanders of companies, can +perpetrate the most awful crimes before there is time for them to +be removed from office. And this is what is constantly happening. + +One involuntarily asks how can men let it go on, not from higher +considerations only, but from regard to their own safety? + +The answer to this question is that it is not all people who do +tolerate it (some--the greater proportion--deluded and submissive, +have no choice and have to tolerate anything). It is tolerated by +those who only under such an organization can occupy a position of +profit. They tolerate it, because for them the risks of suffering +from a foolish or cruel man being at the head of the government or +the army are always less than the disadvantages to which they +would be exposed by the destruction of the organization itself. + +A judge, a commander of police, a governor, or an officer will +keep his position just the same under Boulanger or the republic, +under Pougachef or Catherine. He will lose his profitable +position for certain, if the existing order of things which +secured it to him is destroyed. And so all these people feel no +uneasiness as to who is at the head of the organization, they will +adapt themselves to anyone; they only dread the downfall of the +organization itself, and that is the reason--though often an +unconscious one--that they support it. + +One often wonders why independent people, who are not forced to do +so in any way, the so-called ELITE of society, should go into the +army in Russia, England, Germany, Austria, and even France, and +seek opportunities of becoming murderers. Why do even high- +principled parents send their boys to military schools? Why do +mothers buy their children toy helmets, guns, and swords as +playthings? (The peasant's children never play at soldiers, by +the way). Why do good men and even women, who have certainly no +interest in war, go into raptures over the various exploits of +Skobeloff and others, and vie with one another in glorifying them? +Why do men, who are not obliged to do so, and get no fee for it, +devote, like the marshals of nobility in Russia, whole months of +toil to a business physically disagreeable and morally painful-- +the enrolling of conscripts? Why do all kings and emperors wear +the military uniform? Why do they all hold military reviews, why +do they organize maneuvers, distribute rewards to the military, +and raise monuments to generals and successful commanders? Why do +rich men of independent position consider it an honor to perform a +valet's duties in attendance on crowned personages, flattering +them and cringing to them and pretending to believe in their +peculiar superiority? Why do men who have ceased to believe in +the superstitions of the mediaeval Church, and who could not +possibly believe in them seriously and consistently, pretend to +believe in and give their support to the demoralizing and +blasphemous institution of the church? Why is it that not only +governments but private persons of the higher classes, try so +jealously to maintain the ignorance of the people? Why do they +fall with such fury on any effort at breaking down religious +superstitions or really enlightening the people? Why do +historians, novelists, and poets, who have no hope of gaining +anything by their flatteries, make heroes of kings, emperors, and +conquerors of past times? Why do men, who call themselves +learned, dedicate whole lifetimes to making theories to prove that +violence employed by authority against the people is not violence +at all, but a special right? One often wonders why a fashionable +lady or an artist, who, one would think, would take no interest in +political or military questions, should always condemn strikes of +working people, and defend war; and should always be found without +hesitation opposed to the one, favorable to the other. + +But one no longer wonders when one realizes that in the higher +classes there is an unerring instinct of what tends to maintain +and of what tends to destroy the organization by virtue of which +they enjoy their privileges. The fashionable lady had certainly +not reasoned out that if there were no capitalists and no army to +defend them, her husband would have no fortune, and she could not +have her entertainments and her ball-dresses. And the artist +certainly does not argue that he needs the capitalists and the +troops to defend them, so that they may buy his pictures. But +instinct, replacing reason in this instance, guides them +unerringly. And it is precisely this instinct which leads all +men, with few exceptions, to support all the religious, political, +and economic institutions which are to their advantage. + +But is it possible that the higher classes support the existing +order of things simply because it is to their advantage? Cannot +they see that this order of things is essentially irrational, that +it is no longer consistent with the stage of moral development +attained by people, and with public opinion, and that it is +fraught with perils? The governing classes, or at least the good, +honest, and intelligent people of them, cannot but suffer from +these fundamental inconsistencies, and see the dangers with which +they are threatened. And is it possible that all the millions of +the lower classes can feel easy in conscience when they commit +such obviously evil deeds as torture and murder from fear of +punishment? Indeed, it could not be so, neither the former nor +the latter could fail to see the irrationality of their conduct, +if the complexity of government organization did not obscure the +unnatural senselessness of their actions. + +So many instigate, assist, or sanction the commission of every one +of these actions that no one who has a hand in them feels himself +morally responsible for it. + +It is the custom among assassins to oblige all the witnesses of a +murder to strike the murdered victim, that the responsibility may +be divided among as large a number of people as possible. The +same principle in different forms is applied under the government +organization in the perpetration of the crimes, without which no +government organization could exist. Rulers always try to +implicate as many citizens as possible in all the crimes committed +in their support. + +Of late this tendency has been expressed in a very obvious manner +by the obligation of all citizens to take part in legal processes +as jurors, in the army as soldiers, in the local government, or +legislative assembly, as electors or members. + +Just as in a wicker basket all the ends are so hidden away that it +is hard to find them, in the state organization the responsibility +for the crimes committed is so hidden away that men will commit +the most atrocious acts without seeing their responsibility for +them. + +In ancient times tyrants got credit for the crimes they committed, +but in our day the most atrocious infamies, inconceivable under +the Neros, are perpetrated and no one gets blamed for them. + +One set of people have suggested, another set have proposed, a +third have reported, a fourth have decided, a fifth have +confirmed, a sixth have given the order, and a seventh set of men +have carried it out. They hang, they flog to death women, old +men, and innocent people, as was done recently among us in Russia +at the Yuzovsky factory, and is always being done everywhere in +Europe and America in the struggle with the anarchists and all +other rebels against the existing order; they shoot and hang men +by hundreds and thousands, or massacre millions in war, or break +men's hearts in solitary confinement, and ruin their souls in the +corruption of a soldier's life, and no one is responsible. + +At the bottom of the social scale soldiers, armed with guns, +pistols, and sabers, injure and murder people, and compel men +through these means to enter the army, and are absolutely +convinced that the responsibility for the actions rests solely on +the officers who command them. + +At the top of the scale--the Tzars, presidents, ministers, and +parliaments decree these tortures and murders and military +conscription, and are fully convinced that since they are either +placed in authority by the grace of God or by the society they +govern, which demands such decrees from them, they cannot be held +responsible. Between these two extremes are the intermediary +personages who superintend the murders and other acts of violence, +and are fully convinced that the responsibility is taken off their +shoulders partly by their superiors who have given the order, +partly by the fact that such orders are expected from them by all +who are at the bottom of the scale. + +The authority who gives the orders and the authority who executes +them at the two extreme ends of the state organization, meet +together like the two ends of a ring; they support and rest on one +another and inclose all that lies within the ring. + +Without the conviction that there is a person or persons who will +take the whole responsibility of his acts, not one soldier would +ever lift a hand to commit a murder or other deed of violence. + +Without the conviction that it is expected by the whole people not +a single king, emperor, president, or parliament would order +murders or acts of violence. + +Without the conviction that there are persons of a higher grade +who will take the responsibility, and people of a lower grade who +require such acts for their welfare, not one of the intermediate +class would superintend such deeds. + +The state is so organized that wherever a man is placed in the +social scale, his irresponsibility is the same. The higher his +grade the more he is under the influence of demands from below, +and the less he is controlled by orders from above, and VICE +VERSA. + +All men, then, bound together by state organization, throw the +responsibility of their acts on one another, the peasant soldier +on the nobleman or merchant who is his officer, and the officer on +the nobleman who has been appointed governor, the governor on the +nobleman or son of an official who is minister, the minister on +the member of the royal family who occupies the post of Tzar, and +the Tzar again on all these officials, noblemen, merchants, and +peasants. But that is not all. Besides the fact that men get rid +of the sense of responsibility for their actions in this way, they +lose their moral sense of responsibility also, by the fact that in +forming themselves into a state organization they persuade +themselves and each other so continually, and so indefatigably, +that they are not all equal, but "as the stars apart," that they +come to believe it genuinely themselves. Thus some are persuaded +that they are not simple people like everyone else, but special +people who are to be specially honored. It is instilled into +another set of men by every possible means that they are inferior +to others, and therefore must submit without a murmur to every +order given them by their superiors. + +On this inequality, above all, on the elevation of some and the +degradation of others, rests the capacity men have of being blind +to the insanity of the existing order of life, and all the cruelty +and criminality of the deception practiced by one set of men on +another. + +Those in whom the idea has been instilled that they are invested +with a special supernatural grandeur and consequence, are so +intoxicated with a sense of their own imaginary dignity that they +cease to feel their responsibility for what they do. + +While those, on the other hand, in whom the idea is fostered that +they are inferior animals, bound to obey their superiors in +everything, fall, through this perpetual humiliation, into a +strange condition of stupefied servility, and in this stupefied +state do not see the significance of their actions and lose all +consciousness of responsibility for what they do. + +The intermediate class, who obey the orders of their superiors on +the one hand and regard themselves as superior beings on the +other, are intoxicated by power and stupefied by servility at the +same time and so lose the sense of their responsibility. + +One need only glance during a review at the commander-in-chief, +intoxicated with self-importance, followed by his retinue, all on +magnificent and gayly appareled horses, in splendid uniforms and +wearing decorations, and see how they ride to the harmonious and +solemn strains of music before the ranks of soldiers, all +presenting arms and petrified with servility. One need only +glance at this spectacle to understand that at such moments, when +they are in a state of the most complete intoxication, commander- +in-chief, soldiers, and intermediate officers alike, would be +capable of committing crimes of which they would never dream under +other conditions. + +The intoxication produced by such stimulants as parades, reviews, +religious solemnities, and coronations, is, however, an acute and +temporary condition; but there are other forms of chronic, +permanent intoxication, to which those are liable who have any +kind of authority, from that of the Tzar to that of the lowest +police officer at the street corner, and also those who are in +subjection to authority and in a state of stupefied servility. +The latter, like all slaves, always find a justification for their +own servility, in ascribing the greatest possible dignity and +importance to those they serve. + +It is principally through this false idea of inequality, and the +intoxication of power and of servility resulting from it, that men +associated in a state organization are enabled to commit acts +opposed to their conscience without the least scruple or remorse. +Under the influence of this intoxication, men imagine themselves +no longer simply men as they are, but some special beings-- +noblemen, merchants, governors, judges, officers, tzars, +ministers, or soldiers--no longer bound by ordinary human duties, +but by other duties far more weighty--the peculiar duties of a +nobleman, merchant, governor, judge, officer, tzar, minister, or +soldier. + +Thus the landowner, who claimed the forest, acted as he did only +because he fancied himself not a simple man, having the same +rights to life as the peasants living beside him and everyone +else, but a great landowner, a member of the nobility, and under +the influence of the intoxication of power he felt his dignity +offended by the peasants' claims. It was only through this +feeling that, without considering the consequences that might +follow, he sent in a claim to be reinstated in his pretended +rights. + +In the same way the judges, who wrongfully adjudged the forest to +the proprietor, did so simply because they fancied themselves not +simply men like everyone else, and so bound to be guided in +everything only by what they consider right, but, under the +intoxicating influence of power, imagined themselves the +representatives of the justice which cannot err; while under the +intoxicating influence of servility they imagined themselves bound +to carry out to the letter the instructions inscribed in a certain +book, the so-called law. In the same way all who take part in +such an affair, from the highest representative of authority who +signs his assent to the report, from the superintendent presiding +at the recruiting sessions, and the priest who deludes the +recruits, to the lowest soldier who is ready now to fire on his +own brothers, imagine, in the intoxication of power or of +servility, that they are some conventional characters. They do +not face the question that is presented to them, whether or not +they ought to take part in what their conscience judges an evil +act, but fancy themselves various conventional personages--one as +the Tzar, God's anointed, an exceptional being, called to watch +over the happiness of one hundred millions of men; another as the +representative of nobility; another as a priest, who has received +special grace by his ordination; another as a soldier, bound by +his military oath to carry out all he is commanded without +reflection. + +Only under the intoxication of the power or the servility of their +imagined positions could all these people act as they do. + +Were not they all firmly convinced that their respective vocations +of tzar, minister, governor, judge, nobleman, landowner, +superintendent, officer, and soldier are something real and +important, not one of them would even think without horror and +aversion of taking part in what they do now. + +The conventional positions, established hundreds of years, +recognized for centuries and by everyone, distinguished by special +names and dresses, and, moreover, confirmed by every kind of +solemnity, have so penetrated into men's minds through their +senses, that, forgetting the ordinary conditions of life common to +all, they look at themselves and everyone only from this +conventional point of view, and are guided in their estimation of +their own actions and those of others by this conventional +standard. + +Thus we see a man of perfect sanity and ripe age, simply because +he is decked out with some fringe, or embroidered keys on his coat +tails, or a colored ribbon only fit for some gayly dressed girl, +and is told that he is a general, a chamberlain, a knight of the +order of St. Andrew, or some similar nonsense, suddenly become +self-important, proud, and even happy, or, on the contrary, grow +melancholy and unhappy to the point of falling ill, because he has +failed to obtain the expected decoration or title. Or what is +still more striking, a young man, perfectly sane in every other +matter, independent and beyond the fear of want, simply because he +has been appointed judicial prosecutor or district commander, +separates a poor widow from her little children, and shuts her up +in prison, leaving her children uncared for, all because the +unhappy woman carried on a secret trade in spirits, and so +deprived the revenue of twenty-five rubles, and he does not feel +the least pang of remorse. Or what is still more amazing; a man, +otherwise sensible and good-hearted, simply because he is given a +badge or a uniform to wear, and told that he is a guard or customs +officer, is ready to fire on people, and neither he nor those +around him regard him as to blame for it, but, on the contrary, +would regard him as to blame if he did not fire. To say nothing +of judges and juries who condemn men to death, and soldiers who +kill men by thousands without the slightest scruple merely because +it has been instilled into them that they are not simply men, but +jurors, judges, generals, and soldiers. + +This strange and abnormal condition of men under state +organization is usually expressed in the following words: "As a +man, I pity him; but as guard, judge, general, governor, tzar, or +soldier, it is my duty to kill or torture him." Just as though +there were some positions conferred and recognized, which would +exonerate us from the obligations laid on each of us by the fact +of our common humanity. + +So, for example, in the case before us, men are going to murder +and torture the famishing, and they admit that in the dispute +between the peasants and the landowner the peasants are right (all +those in command said as much to me). They know that the peasants +are wretched, poor, and hungry, and the landowner is rich and +inspires no sympathy. Yet they are all going to kill the peasants +to secure three thousand rubles for the landowner, only because at +that moment they fancy themselves not men but governor, official, +general of police, officer, and soldier, respectively, and +consider themselves bound to obey, not the eternal demands of the +conscience of man, but the casual, temporary demands of their +positions as officers or soldiers. + +Strange as it may seem, the sole explanation of this astonishing +phenomenon is that they are in the condition of the hypnotized, +who, they say, feel and act like the creatures they are commanded +by the hypnotizer to represent. When, for instance, it is +suggested to the hypnotized subject that he is lame, he begins to +walk lame, that he is blind, and he cannot see, that he is a wild +beast, and he begins to bite. This is the state, not only of +those who were going on this expedition, but of all men who +fulfill their state and social duties in preference to and in +detriment of their human duties. + +The essence of this state is that under the influence of one +suggestion they lose the power of criticising their actions, and +therefore do, without thinking, everything consistent with the +suggestion to which they are led by example, precept, or +insinuation. + +The difference between those hypnotized by scientific men and +those under the influence of the state hypnotism, is that an +imaginary position is suggested to the former suddenly by one +person in a very brief space of time, and so the hypnotized state +appears to us in a striking and surprising form, while the +imaginary position suggested by state influence is induced slowly, +little by little, imperceptibly from childhood, sometimes during +years, or even generations, and not in one person alone but in a +whole society. + +"But," it will be said," at all times, in all societies, the +majority of persons--all the children, all the women absorbed in +the bearing and rearing of the young, all the great mass of the +laboring population, who are under the necessity of incessant and +fatiguing physical labor, all those of weak character by nature, +all those who are abnormally enfeebled intellectually by the +effects of nicotine, alcohol, opium, or other intoxicants--are +always in a condition of incapacity for independent thought, and +are either in subjection to those who are on a higher intellectual +level, or else under the influence of family or social traditions, +of what is called public opinion, and there is nothing unnatural +or incongruous in their subjection." + +And truly there is nothing unnatural in it, and the tendency of +men of small intellectual power to follow the lead of those on a +higher level of intelligence is a constant law, and it is owing to +it that men can live in societies and on the same principles at +all. The minority consciously adopt certain rational principles +through their correspondence with reason, while the majority act +on the same principles unconsciously because it is required by +public opinion. + +Such subjection to public opinion on the part of the +unintellectual does not assume an unnatural character till the +public opinion is split into two. + +But there are times when a higher truth, revealed at first to a +few persons, gradually gains ground till it has taken hold of such +a number of persons that the old public opinion, founded on a +lower order of truths, begins to totter and the new is ready to +take its place, but has not yet been firmly established. It is +like the spring, this time of transition, when the old order of +ideas has not quite broken up and the new has not quite gained a +footing. Men begin to criticise their actions in the light of the +new truth, but in the meantime in practice, through inertia and +tradition, they continue to follow the principles which once +represented the highest point of rational consciousness, but are +now in flagrant contradiction with it. + +Then men are in an abnormal, wavering condition, feeling the +necessity of following the new ideal, and yet not bold enough to +break with the old-established traditions. + +Such is the attitude in regard to the truth of Christianity not +only of the men in the Toula train, but of the majority of men of +our times, alike of the higher and the lower orders. + +Those of the ruling classes, having no longer any reasonable +justification for the profitable positions they occupy, are +forced, in order to keep them, to stifle their higher rational +faculty of loving, and to persuade themselves that their positions +are indispensable. And those of the lower classes, exhausted by +toil and brutalized of set purpose, are kept in a permanent +deception, practiced deliberately and continuously by the higher +classes upon them. + +Only in this way can one explain the amazing contradictions with +which our life is full, and of which a striking example was +presented to me by the expedition I met on the 9th of September; +good, peaceful men, known to me personally, going with untroubled +tranquillity to perpetrate the most beastly, senseless, and vile +of crimes. Had not they some means of stifling their conscience, +not one of them would be capable of committing a hundredth part of +such a villainy. + +It is not that they have not a conscience which forbids them from +acting thus, just as, even three or four hundred years ago, when +people burnt men at the stake and put them to the rack they had a +conscience which prohibited it; the conscience is there, but it +has been put to sleep--in those in command by what the +psychologists call auto-suggestion; in the soldiers, by the direct +conscious hypnotizing exerted by the higher classes. + +Though asleep, the conscience is there, and in spite of the +hypnotism it is already speaking in them, and it may awake. + +All these men are in a position like that of a man under +hypnotism, commanded to do something opposed to everything he +regards as good and rational, such as to kill his mother or his +child. The hypnotized subject feels himself bound to carry out +the suggestion--he thinks he cannot stop--but the nearer he gets +to the time and the place of the action, the more the benumbed +conscience begins to stir, to resist, and to try to awake. And no +one can say beforehand whether he will carry out the suggestion or +not; which will gain the upper hand, the rational conscience or +the irrational suggestion. It all depends on their relative +strength. + +That is just the case with the men in the Toula train and in +general with everyone carrying out acts of state violence in our +day. + +There was a time when men who set out with the object of murder +and violence, to make an example, did not return till they had +carried out their object, and then, untroubled by doubts or +scruples, having calmly flogged men to death, they returned home +and caressed their children, laughed, amused themselves, and +enjoyed the peaceful pleasures of family life. In those days it +never struck the landowners and wealthy men who profited by these +crimes, that the privileges they enjoyed had any direct connection +with these atrocities. But now it is no longer so. Men know now, +or are not far from knowing, what they are doing and for what +object they do it. They can shut their eyes and force their +conscience to be still, but so long as their eyes are opened and +their conscience undulled, they must all--those who carry out and +those who profit by these crimes alike--see the import of them. +Sometimes they realize it only after the crime has been +perpetrated, sometimes they realize it just before its +perpetration. Thus those who commanded the recent acts of +violence in Nijni-Novgorod, Saratov, Orel, and the Yuzovsky +factory realized their significance only after their perpetration, +and now those who commanded and those who carried out these crimes +are ashamed before public opinion and their conscience. I have +talked to soldiers who had taken part in these crimes, and they +always studiously turned the conversation off the subject, and +when they spoke of it it was with horror and bewilderment. There +are cases, too, when men come to themselves just before the +perpetration of the crime. Thus I know the case of a sergeant- +major who had been beaten by two peasants during the repression of +disorder and had made a complaint. The next day, after seeing the +atrocities perpetrated on the other peasants, he entreated the +commander of his company to tear up his complaint and let off the +two peasants. I know cases when soldiers, commanded to fire, have +refused to obey, and I know many cases of officers who have +refused to command expeditions for torture and murder. So that +men sometimes come to their senses long before perpetrating the +suggested crime, sometimes at the very moment before perpetrating +it, sometimes only afterward. + +The men traveling in the Toula train were going with the object of +killing and injuring their fellow-creatures, but none could tell +whether they would carry out their object or not. However obscure +his responsibility for the affair is to each, and however strong +the idea instilled into all of them that they are not men, but +governors, officials, officers, and soldiers, and as such beings +can violate every human duty, the nearer they approach the place +of the execution, the stronger their doubts as to its being right, +and this doubt will reach its highest point when the very moment +for carrying it out has come. + +The governor, in spite of all the stupefying effect of his +surroundings, cannot help hesitating when the moment comes to give +final decisive command. He knows that the action of the Governor +of Orel has called down upon him the disapproval of the best +people, and he himself, influenced by the public opinion of the +circles in which he moves, has more than once expressed his +disapprobation of him. He knows that the prosecutor, who ought to +have come, flatly refused to have anything to do with it, because +he regarded it as disgraceful. He knows, too, that there may be +changes any day in the government, and that what was a ground for +advancement yesterday may be the cause of disgrace to-morrow. And +he knows that there is a press, if not in Russia, at least abroad, +which may report the affair and cover him with ignominy forever. +He is already conscious of a change in public opinion which +condemns what was formerly a duty. Moreover, he cannot feel fully +assured that his soldiers will at the last moment obey him. He is +wavering, and none can say beforehand what he will do. + +All the officers and functionaries who accompany him experience in +greater or less degree the same emotions. In the depths of their +hearts they all know that what they are doing is shameful, that to +take part in it is a discredit and blemish in the eyes of some +people whose opinion they value. They know that after murdering +and torturing the defenseless, each of them will be ashamed to +face his betrothed or the woman he is courting. And besides, they +too, like the governor, are doubtful whether the soldiers' +obedience to orders can be reckoned on. What a contrast with the +confident air they all put on as they sauntered about the station +and platform! Inwardly they were not only in a state of suffering +but even of suspense. Indeed they only assumed this bold and +composed manner to conceal the wavering within. And this feeling +increased as they drew near the scene of action. + +And imperceptible as it was, and strange as it seems to say so, +all that mass of lads, the soldiers, who seemed so submissive, +were in precisely the same condition. + +These are not the soldiers of former days, who gave up the natural +life of industry and devoted their whole existence to debauchery, +plunder, and murder, like the Roman legionaries or the warriors of +the Thirty Years' War, or even the soldiers of more recent times +who served for twenty-five years in the army. They have mostly +been only lately taken from their families, and are full of the +recollections of the good, rational, natural life they have left +behind them. + +All these lads, peasants for the most part, know what is the +business they have come about; they know that the landowners +always oppress their brothers the peasants, and that therefore it +is most likely the same thing here. Moreover, a majority of them +can now read, and the books they read are not all such as exalt a +military life; there are some which point out its immorality. +Among them are often free-thinking comrades--who have enlisted +voluntarily--or young officers of liberal ideas, and already the +first germ of doubt has been sown in regard to the unconditional +legitimacy and glory of their occupation. + +It is true that they have all passed through that terrible, +skillful education, elaborated through centuries, which kills all +initiative in a man, and that they are so trained to mechanical +obedience that at the word of command: "Fire!--All the line!-- +Fire!" and so on, their guns will rise of themselves and the +habitual movements will be performed. But "Fire!" now does not +mean shooting into the sand for amusement, it means firing on +their broken-down, exploited fathers and brothers whom they see +there in the crowd, with women and children shouting and waving +their arms. Here they are--one with his scanty beard and patched +coat and plaited shoes of reed, just like the father left at home +in Kazan or Riazan province; one with gray beard and bent back, +leaning on a staff like the old grandfather; one, a young fellow +in boots and a red shirt, just as he was himself a year ago--he, +the soldier who must fire upon him. There, too, a woman in reed +shoes and PANYOVA, just like the mother left at home. + +Is it possible they must fire on them? And no one knows what each +soldier will do at the last minute. The least word, the slightest +allusion would be enough to stop them. + +At the last moment they will all find themselves in the position +of a hypnotized man to whom it has been suggested to chop a log, +who coming up to what has been indicated to him as a log, with the +ax already lifted to strike, sees that it is not a log but his +sleeping brother. He may perform the act that has been suggested +to him, and he may come to his senses at the moment of performing +it. In the same way all these men may come to themselves in time +or they may go on to the end. + +If they do not come to themselves, the most fearful crime will be +committed, as in Orel, and then the hypnotic suggestion under +which they act will be strengthened in all other men. If they do +come to themselves, not only this terrible crime will not be +perpetrated, but many also who hear of the turn the affair has +taken will be emancipated from the hypnotic influence in which +they were held, or at least will be nearer being emancipated from +it. + +Even if a few only come to themselves, and boldly explain to the +others all the wickedness of such a crime, the influence of these +few may rouse the others to shake off the controlling suggestion, +and the atrocity will not be perpetrated. + +More than that, if a few men, even of those who are not taking +part in the affair but are only present at the preparations for +it, or have heard of such things being done in the past, do not +remain indifferent but boldly and plainly express their +detestation of such crimes to those who have to execute them, and +point out to them all the senselessness, cruelty, and wickedness +of such acts, that alone will be productive of good. + +That was what took place in the instance before us. It was enough +for a few men, some personally concerned in the affair and others +simply outsiders, to express their disapproval of floggings that +had taken place elsewhere, and their contempt and loathing for +those who had taken part in inflicting them, for a few persons in +the Toula case to express their repugnance to having any share in +it; for a lady traveling by the train, and a few other bystanders +at the station, to express to those who formed the expedition +their disgust at what they were doing; for one of the commanders +of a company, who was asked for troops for the restoration of +order, to reply that soldiers ought not to be butchers--and thanks +to these and a few other seemingly insignificant influences +brought to bear on these hypnotized men, the affair took a +completely different turn, and the troops, when they reached the +place, did not inflict any punishment, but contented themselves +with cutting down the forest and giving it to the landowner. + +Had not a few persons had a clear consciousness that what they +were doing was wrong, and consequently influenced one another in +that direction, what was done at Orel would have taken place at +Toula. Had this consciousness been still stronger, and had the +influence exerted been therefore greater than it was, it might +well have been that the governor with his troops would not even +have ventured to cut down the forest and give it to the landowner. + +Had that consciousness been stronger still, it might well have +been that the governor would not have ventured to go to the scene +of action at all; even that the minister would not have ventured +to form this decision or the Tzar to ratify it. + +All depends, therefore, on the strength of the consciousness of +Christian truth on the part of each individual man. + +And, therefore, one would have thought that the efforts of all men +of the present day who profess to wish to work for the welfare of +humanity would have been directed to strengthening this +consciousness of Christian truth in themselves and others. + +But, strange to say, it is precisely those people who profess most +anxiety for the amelioration of human life, and are regarded as +the leaders of public opinion, who assert that there is no need to +do that, and that there are other more effective means for the +amelioration of men's condition. They affirm that the +amelioration of human life is effected not by the efforts of +individual men, to recognize and propagate the truth, but by the +gradual modification of the general conditions of life, and that +therefore the efforts of individuals should be directed to the +gradual modification of external conditions for the better. For +every advocacy of a truth inconsistent with the existing order by +an individual is, they maintain, not only useless but injurious, +since in provokes coercive measures on the part of the +authorities, restricting these individuals from continuing any +action useful to society. According to this doctrine all +modifications in human life are brought about by precisely the +same laws as in the life of the animals. + +So that, according to this doctrine, all the founders of +religions, such as Moses and the prophets, Confucius, Lao-Tse, +Buddha, Christ, and others, preached their doctrines and their +followers accepted them, not because they loved the truth, but +because the political, social, and above all economic conditions +of the peoples among whom these religions arose were favorable for +their origination and development. + +And therefore the chief efforts of the man who wishes to serve +society and improve the condition of humanity ought, according to +this doctrine, to be directed not to the elucidation and +propagation of truth, but to the improvement of the external +political, social, and above all economic conditions. And the +modification of these conditions is partly effected by serving the +government and introducing liberal and progressive principles into +it, partly in promoting the development of industry and the +propagation of socialistic ideas, and most of all by the diffusion +of science. According to this theory it is of no consequence +whether you profess the truth revealed to you, and therefore +realize it in your life, or at least refrain from committing +actions opposed to the truth, such as serving the government and +strengthening its authority when you regard it as injurious, +profiting by the capitalistic system when you regard it as wrong, +showing veneration for various ceremonies which you believe to be +degrading superstitions, giving support to the law when you +believe it to be founded on error, serving as a soldier, taking +oaths, and lying, and lowering yourself generally. It is useless +to refrain from all that; what is of use is not altering the +existing forms of life, but submitting to them against your own +convictions, introducing liberalism into the existing +institutions, promoting commerce, the propaganda of socialism, and +the triumphs of what is called science, and the diffusion of +education. According to this theory one can remain a landowner, +merchant, manufacturer, judge, official in government pay, officer +or soldier, and still be not only a humane man, but even a +socialist and revolutionist. + +Hypocrisy, which had formerly only a religious basis in the +doctrine of original sin, the redemption, and the Church, has in +our day gained a new scientific basis and has consequently caught +in its nets all those who had reached too high a stage of +development to be able to find support in religious hypocrisy. So +that while in former days a man who professed the religion of the +Church could take part in all the crimes of the state, and profit +by them, and still regard himself as free from any taint of sin, +so long as he fulfilled the external observances of his creed, +nowadays all who do not believe in the Christianity of the Church, +find similar well-founded irrefutable reasons in science for +regarding themselves as blameless and even highly moral in spite +of their participation in the misdeeds of government and the +advantages they gain from them. + +A rich landowner--not only in Russia, but in France, England, +Germany, or America--lives on the rents exacted; from the people +living on his land, and robs these generally poverty-stricken +people of all he can get from them. This man's right of property +in the land rests on the fact that at every effort on the part of +the oppressed people, without his consent, to make use of the land +he considers his, troops are called out to subject them to +punishment and murder. One would have thought that it was obvious +that a man living in this way was an evil, egoistic creature and +could not possibly consider himself a Christian or a liberal. One +would have supposed it evident that the first thing such a man +must do, if he wishes to approximate to Christianity or +liberalism, would be to cease to plunder and ruin men by means of +acts of state violence in support of his claim to the land. And +so it would be if it were not for the logic of hypocrisy, which +reasons that from a religious point of view possession or non- +possession of land is of no consequence for salvation, and from +the scientific point of view, giving up the ownership of land is a +useless individual renunciation, and that the welfare of mankind +is not promoted in that way, but by a gradual modification of +external forms. And so we see this man, without the least trouble +of mind or doubt that people will believe in his sincerity, +organizing an agricultural exhibition, or a temperance society, or +sending some soup and stockings by his wife or children to three +old women, and boldly in his family, in drawing rooms, in +committees, and in the press, advocating the Gospel or +humanitarian doctrine of love for one's neighbor in general and +the agricultural laboring population in particular whom he is +continually exploiting and oppressing. And other people who are +in the same position as he believe him, commend him, and solemnly +discuss with him measures for ameliorating the condition of the +working-class, on whose exploitation their whole life rests, +devising all kinds of possible methods for this, except the one +without which all improvement of their condition is impossible, +i. e., refraining from taking from them the land necessary for +their subsistence. (A striking example of this hypocrisy was the +solicitude displayed by the Russian landowners last year, their +efforts to combat the famine which they had caused, and by which +they profited, selling not only bread at the highest price, but +even potato haulm at five rubles the dessiatine (about 2 and four- +fifths acres) for fuel to the freezing peasants.) + +Or take a merchant whose whole trade--like all trade indeed--is +founded on a series of trickery, by means of which, profiting by +the ignorance or need of others, he buys goods below their value +and sells them again above their value. One would have fancied it +obvious that a man whose whole occupation was based on what in his +own language is called swindling, if it is done under other +conditions, ought to be ashamed of his position, and could not any +way, while he continues a merchant, profess himself a Christian or +a liberal. + +But the sophistry of hypocrisy reasons that the merchant can pass +for a virtuous man without giving up his pernicious course of +action; a religious man need only have faith and a liberal man +need only promote the modification of external conditions--the +progress of industry. And so we see the merchant (who often goes +further and commits acts of direct dishonesty, selling adulterated +goods, using false weights and measures, and trading in products +injurious to health, such as alcohol and opium) boldly regarding +himself and being regarded by others, so long as he does not +directly deceive his colleagues in business, as a pattern of +probity and virtue. And if he spends a thousandth part of his +stolen wealth on some public institution, a hospital or museum or +school, then he is even regarded as the benefactor of the people +on the exploitation and corruption of whom his whole prosperity +has been founded: if he sacrifices, too, a portion of his ill- +gotten gains on a Church and the poor, then he is an exemplary +Christian. + +A manufacturer is a man whose whole income consists of value +squeezed out of the workmen, and whose whole occupation is based +on forced, unnatural labor, exhausting whole generations of men. +It would seem obvious that if this man professes any Christian or +liberal principles, he must first of all give up ruining human +lives for his own profit. But by the existing theory he is +promoting industry, and he ought not to abandon his pursuit. It +would even be injuring society for him to do so. And so we see +this man, the harsh slave-driver of thousands of men, building +almshouses with little gardens two yards square for the workmen +broken down in toiling for him, and a bank, and a poorhouse, and a +hospital--fully persuaded that he has amply expiated in this way +for all the human lives morally and physically ruined by him--and +calmly going on with his business, taking pride in it. + +Any civil, religious, or military official in government employ, +who serves the state from vanity, or, as is most often the case, +simply for the sake of the pay wrung from the harassed and +toilworn working classes (all taxes, however raised, always fall +on labor), if he, as is very seldom the case, does not directly +rob the government in the usual way, considers himself, and is +considered by his fellows, as a most useful and virtuous member of +society. + +A judge or a public prosecutor knows that through his sentence or +his prosecution hundreds or thousands of poor wretches are at once +torn from their families and thrown into prison, where they may go +out of their minds, kill themselves with pieces of broken glass, +or starve themselves; he knows that they have wives and mothers +and children, disgraced and made miserable by separation from +them, vainly begging for pardon for them or some alleviation of +their sentence, and this judge or this prosecutor is so hardened +in his hypocrisy that he and his fellows and his wife and his +household are all fully convinced that he may be a most exemplary +man. According to the metaphysics of hypocrisy it is held that he +is doing a work of public utility. And this man who has ruined +hundreds, thousands of men, who curse him and are driven to +desperation by his action, goes to mass, a smile of shining +benevolence on his smooth face, in perfect faith in good and in +God, listens to the Gospel, caresses his children, preaches moral +principles to them, and is moved by imaginary sufferings. + +All these men and those who depend on them, their wives, tutors, +children, cooks, actors, jockeys, and so on, are living on the +blood which by one means or another, through one set of blood- +suckers or another, is drawn out of the working class, and every +day their pleasures cost hundreds or thousands of days of labor. +They see the sufferings and privations of these laborers and their +children, their aged, their wives, and their sick, they know the +punishments inflicted on those who resist this organized plunder, +and far from decreasing, far from concealing their luxury, they +insolently display it before these oppressed laborers who hate +them, as though intentionally provoking them with the pomp of +their parks and palaces, their theaters, hunts, and races. At the +same time they continue to persuade themselves and others that +they are all much concerned about the welfare of these working +classes, whom they have always trampled under their feet, and on +Sundays, richly dressed, they drive in sumptuous carriages to the +houses of God built in very mockery of Christianity, and there +listen to men, trained to this work of deception, who in white +neckties or in brocaded vestments, according to their +denomination, preach the love for their neighbor which they all +gainsay in their lives. And these people have so entered into +their part that they seriously believe that they really are what +they pretend to be. + +The universal hypocrisy has so entered into the flesh and blood of +all classes of our modern society, it has reached such a pitch +that nothing in that way can rouse indignation. Hypocrisy in the +Greek means "acting," and acting--playing a part--is always +possible. The representatives of Christ give their blessing to +the ranks of murderers holding their guns loaded against their +brothers; "for prayer" priests, ministers of various Christian +sects are always present, as indispensably as the hangman, at +executions, and sanction by their presence the compatibility of +murder with Christianity (a clergyman assisted at the attempt at +murder by electricity in America)--but such facts cause no one any +surprise. + +There was recently held at Petersburg an international exhibition +of instruments of torture, handcuffs, models of solitary cells, +that is to say instruments of torture worse than knouts or rods, +and sensitive ladies and gentlemen went and amused themselves by +looking at them. + +No one is surprised that together with its recognition of liberty, +equality, and fraternity, liberal science should prove the +necessity of war, punishment, customs, the censure, the regulation +of prostitution, the exclusion of cheap foreign laborers, the +hindrance of emigration, the justifiableness of colonization, +based on poisoning and destroying whole races of men called +savages, and so on. + +People talk of the time when all men shall profess what is called +Christianity (that is, various professions of faith hostile to one +another), when all shall be well-fed and clothed, when all shall +be united from one end of the world to the other by telegraphs and +telephones, and be able to communicate by balloons, when all the +working classes are permeated by socialistic doctrines, when the +Trades Unions possess so many millions of members and so many +millions of rubles, when everyone is educated and all can read +newspapers and learn all the sciences. + +But what good or useful thing can come of all these improvements, +if men do not speak and act in accordance with what they believe +to be the truth? + +The condition of men is the result of their disunion. Their +disunion results from their not following the truth which is one, +but falsehoods which are many. The sole means of uniting men is +their union in the truth. And therefore the more sincerely men +strive toward the truth, the nearer they get to unity. + +But how can men be united in the truth or even approximate to it, +if they do not even express the truth they know, but hold that +there is no need to do so, and pretend to regard as truth what +they believe to be false? + +And therefore no improvement is possible so long as men are +hypocritical and hide the truth from themselves, so long as they +do not recognize that their union and therefore their welfare is +only possible in the truth, and do not put the recognition and +profession of the truth revealed to them higher than everything +else. + +All the material improvements that religious and scientific men +can dream of may be accomplished; all men may accept Christianity, +and all the reforms desired by the Bellamys may be brought about +with every possible addition and improvement, but if the hypocrisy +which rules nowadays still exists, if men do not profess the truth +they know, but continue to feign belief in what they do not +believe and veneration for what they do not respect, their +condition will remain the same, or even grow worse and worse. The +more men are freed from privation; the more telegraphs, +telephones, books, papers, and journals there are; the more means +there will be of diffusing inconsistent lies and hypocrisies, and +the more disunited and consequently miserable will men become, +which indeed is what we see actually taking place. + +All these material reforms may be realized, but the position of +humanity will not be improved. But only let each man, according +to his powers, at once realize in his life the truth he knows, or +at least cease to support the falsehoods he is supporting in the +place of the truth, and at once, in this year 1893, we should see +such reforms as we do not dare to hope for within a century--the +emancipation of men and the reign of truth upon earth. + +Not without good reason was Christ's only harsh and threatening +reproof directed against hypocrites and hypocrisy. It is not +theft nor robbery nor murder nor fornication, but falsehood, the +special falsehood of hypocrisy, which corrupts men, brutalizes +them and makes them vindictive, destroys all distinction between +right and wrong in their conscience, deprives them of what is the +true meaning of all real human life, and debars them from all +progress toward perfection. + +Those who do evil through ignorance of the truth provoke sympathy +with their victims and repugnance for their actions, they do harm +only to those they attack; but those who know the truth and do +evil masked by hypocrisy, injure themselves and their victims, and +thousands of other men as well who are led astray by the falsehood +with which the wrongdoing is disguised. + +Thieves, robbers, murderers, and cheats, who commit crimes +recognized by themselves and everyone else as evil, serve as an +example of what ought not to be done, and deter others from +similar crimes. But those who commit the same thefts, robberies, +murders, and other crimes, disguising them under all kinds of +religious or scientific or humanitarian justifications, as all +landowners, merchants, manufacturers, and government officials do, +provoke others to imitation, and so do harm not only to those who +are directly the victims of their crimes, but to thousands and +millions of men whom they corrupt by obliterating their sense of +the distinction between right and wrong. + +A single fortune gained by trading in goods necessary to the +people or in goods pernicious in their effects, or by financial +speculations, or by acquiring land at a low price the value of +which is increased by the needs of the population, or by an +industry ruinous to the health and life of those employed in it, +or by military or civil service of the state, or by any employment +which trades on men's evil instincts--a single fortune acquired in +any of these ways, not only with the sanction, but even with the +approbation of the leading men in society, and masked with an +ostentation of philanthropy, corrupts men incomparably more than +millions of thefts and robberies committed against the recognized +forms of law and punishable as crimes. + +A single execution carried out by prosperous educated men +uninfluenced by passion, with the approbation and assistance of +Christian ministers, and represented as something necessary and +even just, is infinitely more corrupting and brutalizing to men +than thousands of murders committed by uneducated working people +under the influence of passion. An execution such as was proposed +by Joukovsky, which would produce even a sentiment of religious +emotion in the spectators, would be one of the most perverting +actions imaginable. (SEE vol. iv. of the works of Joukovsky.) + +Every war, even the most humanely conducted, with all its ordinary +consequences, the destruction of harvests, robberies, the license +and debauchery, and the murder with the justifications of its +necessity and justice, the exaltation and glorification of +military exploits, the worship of the flag, the patriotic +sentiments, the feigned solicitude for the wounded, and so on, +does more in one year to pervert men's minds than thousands of +robberies, murders, and arsons perpetrated during hundreds of +years by individual men under the influence of passion. + +The luxurious expenditure of a single respectable and so-called +honorable family, even within the conventional limits, consuming +as it does the produce of as many days of labor as would suffice +to provide for thousands living in privation near, does more to +pervert men's minds than thousands of the violent orgies of coarse +tradespeople, officers, and workmen of drunken and debauched +habits, who smash up glasses and crockery for amusement. + +One solemn religious procession, one service, one sermon from the +altar-steps or the pulpit, in which the preacher does not believe, +produces incomparably more evil than thousands of swindling +tricks, adulteration of food, and so on. + +We talk of the hypocrisy of the Pharisees. But the hypocrisy of +our society far surpasses the comparatively innocent hypocrisy of +the Pharisees. They had at least an external religious law, the +fulfillment of which hindered them from seeing their obligations +to their neighbors. Moreover, these obligations were not nearly +so clearly defined in their day. Nowadays we have no such +religious law to exonerate us from our duties to our neighbors (I +am not speaking now of the coarse and ignorant persons who still +fancy their sins can be absolved by confession to a priest or by +the absolution of the Pope). On the contrary, the law of the +Gospel which we all profess in one form or another directly +defines these duties. Besides, the duties which had then been +only vaguely and mystically expressed by a few prophets have now +been so clearly formulated, have become such truisms, that they +are repeated even by schoolboys and journalists. And so it would +seem that men of to-day cannot pretend that they do not know these +duties. + +A man of the modern world who profits by the order of things based +on violence, and at the same time protests that he loves his +neighbor and does not observe what he is doing in his daily life +to his neighbor, is like a brigand who has spent his life in +robbing men, and who, caught at last, knife in hand, in the very +act of striking his shrieking victim, should declare that he had +no idea that what he was doing was disagreeable to the man he had +robbed and was prepared to murder. Just as this robber and +murderer could not deny what was evident to everyone, so it would +seem that a man living upon the privations of the oppressed +classes cannot persuade himself and others that he desires the +welfare of those he plunders, and that he does not know how the +advantages he enjoys are obtained. + +It is impossible to convince ourselves that we do not know that +there are a hundred thousand men in prison in Russia alone to +guarantee the security of our property and tranquillity, and that +we do not know of the law tribunals in which we take part, and +which, at our initiative, condemn those who have attacked our +property or our security to prison, exile, or forced labor, +whereby men no worse than those who condemn them are ruined and +corrupted; or that we do not know that we only possess all that we +do possess because it has been acquired and is defended for us by +murder and violence. + +We cannot pretend that we do not see the armed policeman who +marches up and down beneath our windows to guarantee our security +while we eat our luxurious dinner, or look at the new piece at the +theater, or that we are unaware of the existence of the soldiers +who will make their appearance with guns and cartridges directly +our property is attacked. + +We know very well that we are only allowed to go on eating our +dinner, to finish seeing the new play, or to enjoy to the end the +ball, the Christmas fete, the promenade, the races or, the hunt, +thanks to the policeman's revolver or the soldier's rifle, which +will shoot down the famished outcast who has been robbed of his +share, and who looks round the corner with covetous eyes at our +pleasures, ready to interrupt them instantly, were not the +policeman and the soldier there prepared to run up at our first +call for help. + +And therefore just as a brigand caught in broad daylight in the +act cannot persuade us that he did not lift his knife in order to +rob his victim of his purse, and had no thought of killing him, we +too, it would seem, cannot persuade ourselves or others that the +soldiers and policemen around us are not to guard us, but only for +defense against foreign foes, and to regulate traffic and fetes +and reviews; we cannot persuade ourselves and others that we do +not know that men do not like dying of hunger, bereft of the right +to gain their subsistence from the earth on which they live; that +they do not like working underground, in the water, or in stifling +heat, for ten to fourteen hours a day, at night in factories to +manufacture objects for our pleasure. One would imagine it +impossible to deny what is so obvious. Yet it is denied. + +Still, there are, among the rich, especially among the young, and +among women, persons whom I am glad to meet more and more +frequently, who, when they are shown in what way and at what cost +their pleasures are purchased, do not try to conceal the truth, +but hiding their heads in their hands, cry: "Ah! don't speak of +that. If it is so, life is impossible." But though there are +such sincere people who even though they cannot renounce their +fault, at least see it, the vast majority of the men of the modern +world have so entered into the parts they play in their hypocrisy +that they boldly deny what is staring everyone in the face. + +"All that is unjust," they say; "no one forces the people to work +for the landowners and manufacturers. That is an affair of free +contract. Great properties and fortunes are necessary, because +they provide and organize work for the working classes. And labor +in the factories and workshops is not at all the terrible thing +you make it out to be. Even if there are some abuses in +factories, the government and the public are taking steps to +obviate them and to make the labor of the factory workers much +easier, and even agreeable. The working classes are accustomed to +physical labor, and are, so far, fit for nothing else. The +poverty of the people is not the result of private property in +land, nor of capitalistic oppression, but of other causes: it is +the result of the ignorance, brutality, and intemperance of the +people. And we men in authority who are striving against this +impoverishment of the people by wise legislation, we capitalists +who are combating it by the extension of useful inventions, we +clergymen by religious instruction, and we liberals by the +formation of trades unions, and the diffusion of education, are in +this way increasing the prosperity of the people without changing +our own positions. We do not want all to be as poor as the poor; +we want all to be as rich as the rich. As for the assertion that +men are ill treated and murdered to force them to work for the +profit of the rich, that is a sophism. The army is only called +out against the mob, when the people, in ignorance of their own +interests, make disturbances and destroy the tranquillity +necessary for the public welfare. In the same way, too, it is +necessary to keep in restraint the malefactors for whom the +prisons and gallows are established. We ourselves wish to +suppress these forms of punishment and are working in that +direction." + +Hypocrisy in our day is supported on two sides: by false religion +and by false science. And it has reached such proportions that if +we were not living in its midst, we could not believe that men +could attain such a pitch of self-deception. Men of the present +day have come into such an extraordinary condition, their hearts +are so hardened, that seeing they see not, hearing they do not +hear, and understand not. + +Men have long been living in antagonism to their conscience. If +it were not for hypocrisy they could not go on living such a life. +This social organization in opposition to their conscience only +continues to exist because it is disguised by hypocrisy. + +And the greater the divergence between actual life and men's +conscience, the greater the extension of hypocrisy. But even +hypocrisy has its limits. And it seems to me that we have reached +those limits in the present day. + +Every man of the present day with the Christian principles +assimilated involuntarily in his conscience, finds himself in +precisely the position of a man asleep who dreams that he is +obliged to do something which even in his dream he knows he ought +not to do. He knows this in the depths of his conscience, and all +the same he seems unable to change his position; he cannot stop +and cease doing what he ought not to do. And just as in a dream, +his position becoming more and more painful, at last reaches such +a pitch of intensity that he begins sometimes to doubt the reality +of what is passing and makes a moral effort to shake off the +nightmare which is oppressing him. + +This is just the condition of the average man of our Christian +society. He feels that all that he does himself and that is done +around him is something absurd, hideous, impossible, and opposed +to his conscience; he feels that his position is becoming more and +more unendurable and reaching a crisis of intensity. + +It is not possible that we modern men, with the Christian sense of +human dignity and equality permeating us soul and body, with our +need for peaceful association and unity between nations, should +really go on living in such a way that every joy, every +gratification we have is bought by the sufferings, by the lives of +our brother men, and moreover, that we should be every instant +within a hair's-breadth of falling on one another, nation against +nation, like wild beasts, mercilessly destroying men's lives and +labor, only because some benighted diplomatist or ruler says or +writes some stupidity to another equally benighted diplomatist or +ruler. + +It is impossible. Yet every man of our day sees that this is so +and awaits the calamity. And the situation becomes more and more +insupportable. + +And as the man who is dreaming does not believe that what appears +to him can be truly the reality and tries to wake up to the actual +real world again, so the average man of modern days cannot in the +bottom of his heart believe that the awful position in which he is +placed and which is growing worse and worse can be the reality, +and tries to wake up to a true, real life, as it exists in his +conscience. + +And just as the dreamer need only make a moral effort and ask +himself, "Isn't it a dream?" and the situation which seemed to him +so hopeless will instantly disappear, and he will wake up to +peaceful and happy reality, so the man of the modern world need +only make a moral effort to doubt the reality presented to him by +his own hypocrisy and the general hypocrisy around him, and to ask +himself, "Isn't it all a delusion?" and he will at once, like the +dreamer awakened, feel himself transported from an imaginary and +dreadful world to the true, calm, and happy reality. + +And to do this a man need accomplish no great feats or exploits. +He need only make a moral effort. + +But can a man make this effort? + +According to the existing theory so essential to support +hypocrisy, man is not free and cannot change his life. + +"Man cannot change his life, because he is not free. He is not +free, because all his actions are conditioned by previously +existing causes. And whatever the man may do there are always +some causes or other through which he does these or those acts, +and therefore man cannot be free and change his life," say the +champions of the metaphysics of hypocrisy. And they would be +perfectly right if man were a creature without conscience and +incapable of moving toward the truth; that is to say, if after +recognizing a new truth, man always remained at the same stage of +moral development. But man is a creature with a conscience and +capable of attaining a higher and higher degree of truth. And +therefore even if man is not free as regards performing these or +those acts because there exists a previous cause for every act, +the very causes of his acts, consisting as they do for the man of +conscience of the recognition of this or that truth, are within +his own control. + +So that though man may not be free as regards the performance of +his actions, he is free as regards the foundation on which they +are performed. Just as the mechanician who is not free to modify +the movement of his locomotive when it is in motion, is free to +regulate the machine beforehand so as to determine what the +movement is to be. + +Whatever the conscious man does, he acts just as he does, and not +otherwise, only because he recognizes that to act as he is acting +is in accord with the truth, or because he has recognized it at +some previous time, and is now only through inertia, through +habit, acting in accordance with his previous recognition of +truth. + +In any case, the cause of his action is not to be found in any +given previous fact, but in the consciousness of a given relation +to truth, and the consequent recognition of this or that fact as a +sufficient basis for action. + +Whether a man eats or does not eat, works or rests, runs risks or +avoids them, if he has a conscience he acts thus only because he +considers it right and rational, because he considers that to act +thus is in harmony with truth, or else because he has made this +reflection in the past. + +The recognition or non-recognition of a certain truth depends not +on external causes, but on certain other causes within the man +himself. So that at times under external conditions apparently +very favorable for the recognition of truth, one man will not +recognize it, and another, on the contrary, under the most +unfavorable conditions will, without apparent cause, recognize it. +As it is said in the Gospel, "No man can come unto me, except the +Father which hath sent me draw him." That is to say, the +recognition of truth, which is the cause of all the manifestations +of human life, does not depend on external phenomena, but on +certain inner spiritual characteristics of the man which escape +our observation. + +And therefore man, though not free in his acts, always feels +himself free in what is the motive of his acts--the recognition or +non-recognition of truth. And he feels himself independent not +only of facts external to his own personality, but even of his own +actions. + +Thus a man who under the influence of passion has committed an act +contrary to the truth he recognizes, remains none the less free to +recognize it or not to recognize it; that is, he can by refusing +to recognize the truth regard his action as necessary and +justifiable, or he may recognize the truth and regard his act as +wrong and censure himself for it. + +Thus a gambler or a drunkard who does not resist temptation and +yields to his passion is still free to recognize gambling and +drunkenness as wrong or to regard them as a harmless pastime. In +the first case even if he does not at once get over his passion, +he gets the more free from it the more sincerely he recognizes the +truth about it; in the second case he will be strengthened in his +vice and will deprive himself of every possibility of shaking it +off. + +In the same way a man who has made his escape alone from a house +on fire, not having had the courage to save his friend, remains +free, recognizing the truth that a man ought to save the life of +another even at the risk of his own, to regard his action as bad +and to censure himself for it, or, not recognizing this truth, to +regard his action as natural and necessary and to justify it to +himself. In the first case, if he recognizes the truth in spite +of his departure from it, he prepares for himself in the future a +whole series of acts of self-sacrifice necessarily flowing from +this recognition of the truth; in the second case, a whole series +of egoistic acts. + +Not that a man is always free to recognize or to refuse to +recognize every truth. There are truths which he has recognized +long before or which have been handed down to him by education and +tradition and accepted by him on faith, and to follow these truths +has become a habit, a second nature with him; and there are +truths, only vaguely, as it were distantly, apprehended by him. +The man is not free to refuse to recognize the first, nor to +recognize the second class of truths. But there are truths of a +third kind, which have not yet become an unconscious motive of +action, but yet have been revealed so clearly to him that he +cannot pass them by, and is inevitably obliged to do one thing or +the other, to recognize or not to recognize them. And it is in +regard to these truths that the man's freedom manifests itself. + +Every man during his life finds himself in regard to truth in the +position of a man walking in the darkness with light thrown before +him by the lantern he carries. He does not see what is not yet +lighted up by the lantern; he does not see what he has passed +which is hidden in the darkness; but at every stage of his journey +he sees what is lighted up by the lantern, and he can always +choose one side or the other of the road. + +There are always unseen truths not yet revealed to the man's +intellectual vision, and there are other truths outlived, +forgotten, and assimilated by him, and there are also certain +truths that rise up before the light of his reason and require his +recognition. And it is in the recognition or non-recognition of +these truths that what we call his freedom is manifested. + +All the difficulty and seeming insolubility of the question of the +freedom of man results from those who tried to solve the question +imagining man as stationary in his relation to the truth. + +Man is certainly not free if we imagine him stationary, and if we +forget that the life of a man and of humanity is nothing but a +continual movement from darkness into light, from a lower stage of +truth to a higher, from a truth more alloyed with errors to a +truth more purified from them. + +Man would not be free if he knew no truth at all, and in the same +way he would not be free and would not even have any idea of +freedom if the whole truth which was to guide him in life had been +revealed once for all to him in all its purity without any +admixture of error. + +But man is not stationary in regard to truth, but every individual +man as he passes through life, and humanity as a whole in the same +way, is continually learning to know a greater and greater degree +of truth, and growing more and more free from error. + +And therefore men are in a threefold relation to truth. Some +truths have been so assimilated by them that they have become the +unconscious basis of action, others are only just on the point of +being revealed to him, and a third class, though not yet +assimilated by him, have been revealed to him with sufficient +clearness to force him to decide either to recognize them or to +refuse to recognize them. + +These, then, are the truths which man is free to recognize or to +refuse to recognize. + +The liberty of man does not consist in the power of acting +independently of the progress of life and the influences arising +from it, but in the capacity for recognizing and acknowledging the +truth revealed to him, and becoming the free and joyful +participator in the eternal and infinite work of God, the life of +the world; or on the other hand for refusing to recognize the +truth, and so being a miserable and reluctant slave dragged +whither he has no desire to go. + +Truth not only points out the way along which human life ought to +move, but reveals also the only way along which it can move. And +therefore all men must willingly or unwillingly move along the way +of truth, some spontaneously accomplishing the task set them in +life, others submitting involuntarily to the law of life. Man's +freedom lies in the power of this choice. + +This freedom within these narrow limits seems so insignificant to +men that they do not notice it. Some--the determinists--consider +this amount of freedom so trifling that they do not recognize it +at all. Others--the champions of complete free will--keep their +eyes fixed on their hypothetical free will and neglect this which +seemed to them such a trivial degree of freedom. + +This freedom, confined between the limits of complete ignorance of +the truth and a recognition of a part of the truth, seems hardly +freedom at all, especially since, whether a man is willing or +unwilling to recognize the truth revealed to him, he will be +inevitably forced to carry it out in life. + +A horse harnessed with others to a cart is not free to refrain +from moving the cart. If he does not move forward the cart will +knock him down and go on dragging him with it, whether he will or +not. But the horse is free to drag the cart himself or to be +dragged with it. And so it is with man. + +Whether this is a great or small degree of freedom in comparison +with the fantastic liberty we should like to have, it is the only +freedom that really exists, and in it consists the only happiness +attainable by man. + +And more than that, this freedom is the sole means of +accomplishing the divine work of the life of the world. + +According to Christ's doctrine, the man who sees the significance +of life in the domain in which it is not free, in the domain of +effects, that is, of acts, has not the true life. According to +the Christian doctrine, that man is living in the truth who has +transported his life to the domain in which it is free--the domain +of causes, that is, the knowledge and recognition, the profession +and realization in life of revealed truth. + +Devoting his life to works of the flesh, a man busies himself with +actions depending on temporary causes outside himself. He himself +does nothing really, he merely seems to be doing something. In +reality all the acts which seem to be his are the work of a higher +power, and he is not the creator of his own life, but the slave of +it. Devoting his life to the recognition and fulfillment of the +truth revealed to him, he identifies himself with the source of +universal life and accomplishes acts not personal, and dependent +on conditions of space and time, but acts unconditioned by +previous causes, acts which constitute the causes of everything +else, and have an infinite, unlimited significance. + +"The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it +by force." (Matt. xi. 12.) + +It is this violent effort to rise above external conditions to the +recognition and realization of truth by which the kingdom of +heaven is taken, and it is this effort of violence which must and +can be made in our times. + +Men need only understand this, they need only cease to trouble +themselves about the general external conditions in which they are +not free, and devote one-hundredth part of the energy they waste +on those material things to that in which they are free, to the +recognition and realization of the truth which is before them, and +to the liberation of themselves and others from deception and +hypocrisy, and, without effort or conflict, there would be an end +at once of the false organization of life which makes men +miserable, and threatens them with worse calamities in the future. +And then the kingdom of God would be realized, or at least that +first stage of it for which men are ready now by the degree of +development of their conscience. + +Just as a single shock may be sufficient, when a liquid is +saturated with some salt, to precipitate it at once in crystals, a +slight effort may be perhaps all that is needed now that the truth +already revealed to men may gain a mastery over hundreds, +thousands, millions of men, that a public opinion consistent with +conscience may be established, and through this change of public +opinion the whole order of life may be transformed. And it +depends upon us to make this effort. + +Let each of us only try to understand and accept the Christian +truth which in the most varied forms surrounds us on all sides and +forces itself upon us; let us only cease from lying and pretending +that we do not see this truth or wish to realize it, at least in +what it demands from us above all else; only let us accept and +boldly profess the truth to which we are called, and we should +find at once that hundreds, thousands, millions of men are in the +same position as we, that they see the truth as we do, and dread +as we do to stand alone in recognizing it, and like us are only +waiting for others to recognize it also. + +Only let men cease to be hypocrites, and they would at once see +that this cruel social organization, which holds them in bondage, +and is represented to them as something stable, necessary, and +ordained of God, is already tottering and is only propped up by +the falsehood of hypocrisy, with which we, and others like us, +support it. + +But if this is so, if it is true that it depends on us to break +down the existing organization of life, have we the right to +destroy it, without knowing clearly what we shall set up in its +place? What will become of human society when the existing order +of things is at an end? + + "What shall we find the other side of the walls of the world we + are abandoning? + + "Fear will come upon us--a void, a vast emptiness, freedom--how + are we to go forward not knowing whither, how face loss, not + seeing hope of gain? . . . If Columbus had reasoned thus he + would never have weighed anchor. It was madness to set off + upon the ocean, not knowing the route, on the ocean on which no + one had sailed, to sail toward a land whose existence was + doubtful. By this madness he discovered a new world. + Doubtless if the peoples of the world could simply transfer + themselves from one furnished mansion to another and better + one--it would make it much easier; but unluckily there is no + one to get humanity's new dwelling ready for it. The future is + even worse than the ocean--there is nothing there--it will be + what men and circumstances make it. + + "If you are content with the old world, try to preserve it, it + is very sick and cannot hold out much longer. But if you + cannot bear to live in everlasting dissonance between your + beliefs and your life, thinking one thing and doing another, + get out of the mediaeval whited sepulchers, and face your + fears. I know very well it is not easy. + + "It is not a little thing to cut one's self off from all to + which a man has been accustomed from his birth, with which he + has grown up to maturity. Men are ready for tremendous + sacrifices, but not for those which life demands of them. Are + they ready to sacrifice modern civilization, their manner of + life, their religion, the received conventional morality? + + "Are we ready to give up all the results we have attained with + such effort, results of which we have been boasting for three + centuries; to give up every convenience and charm of our + existence, to prefer savage youth to the senile decay of + civilization, to pull down the palace raised for us by our + ancestors only for the pleasure of having a hand in the + founding of a new house, which will doubtless be built long + after we are gone?" (Herzen, vol. v. p. 55.) + +Thus wrote almost half a century ago the Russian writer, who with +prophetic insight saw clearly then, what even the most +unreflecting man sees to-day, the impossibility, that is, of life +continuing on its old basis, and the necessity of establishing new +forms of life. + +It is clear now from the very simplest, most commonplace point of +view, that it is madness to remain under the roof of a building +which cannot support its weight, and that we must leave it. And +indeed it is difficult to imagine a position more wretched than +that of the Christian world to-day, with its nations armed against +one another, with its constantly increasing taxation to maintain +its armies, with the hatred of the working class for the rich ever +growing more intense, with the Damocles sword of war forever +hanging over the heads of all, ready every instant to fall, +certain to fall sooner or later. + +Hardly could any revolution be more disastrous for the great mass +of the population than the present order or rather disorder of our +life, with its daily sacrifices to exhausting and unnatural toil, +to poverty, drunkenness, and profligacy, with all the horrors of +the war that is at hand, which will swallow up in one year more +victims than all the revolutions of the century. + +What will become of humanity if each of us performs the duty God +demands of us through the conscience implanted within us? Will +not harm come if, being wholly in the power of a master, I carry +out, in the workshop erected and directed by him, the orders he +gives me, strange though they may seem to me who do not know the +Master's final aims? + +But it is not even this question "What will happen?" that agitates +men when they hesitate to fulfill the Master's will. They are +troubled by the question how to live without those habitual +conditions of life which we call civilization, culture, art, and +science. We feel ourselves all the burdensomeness of life as it +is; we see also that this organization of life must inevitably be +our ruin, if it continues. At the same time we want the +conditions of our life which arise out of this organization--our +civilization, culture, art, and science--to remain intact. It is +as though a man, living in an old house and suffering from cold +and all sorts of inconvenience in it, knowing, too, that it is on +the point of falling to pieces, should consent to its being +rebuilt, but only on the condition that he should not be required +to leave it: a condition which is equivalent to refusing to have +it rebuilt at all. + +"But what if I leave the house and give up every convenience for a +time, and the new house is not built, or is built on a different +plan so that I do not find in it the comforts to which I am +accustomed?" But seeing that the materials and the builders are +here, there is every likelihood that the new house will on the +contrary be better built than the old one. And at the same time, +there is not only the likelihood but the certainty that the old +house will fall down and crush those who remain within it. +Whether the old habitual conditions of life are supported, or +whether they are abolished and altogether new and better +conditions arise; in any case, there is no doubt we shall be +forced to leave the old forms of life which have become impossible +and fatal, and must go forward to meet the future. + +"Civilization, art, science, culture, will disappear!" + +Yes, but all these we know are only various manifestations of +truth, and the change that is before us is only to be made for the +sake of a closer attainment and realization of truth. How then +can the manifestations of truth disappear through our realizing +it? These manifestations will be different, higher, better, but +they will not cease to be. Only what is false in them will be +destroyed; all the truth there was in them will only be stronger +and more flourishing. + +Take thought, oh, men, and have faith in the Gospel, in whose +teaching is your happiness. If you do not take thought, you will +perish just as the men perished, slain by Pilate, or crushed by +the tower of Siloam; as millions of men have perished, slayers and +slain, executing and executed, torturers and tortured alike, and +as the man foolishly perished, who filled his granaries full and +made ready for a long life and died the very night that he planned +to begin his life. Take thought and have faith in the Gospel, +Christ said eighteen hundred years ago, and he says it with even +greater force now that the calamities foretold by him have come to +pass, and the senselessness of our life has reached the furthest +point of suffering and madness. + +Nowadays, after so many centuries of fruitless efforts to make our +life secure by the pagan organization of life, it must be evident +to everyone that all efforts in that direction only introduce +fresh dangers into personal and social life, and do not render it +more secure in any way. + +Whatever names we dignify ourselves with, whatever uniforms we +wear, whatever priests we anoint ourselves before, however many +millions we possess, however many guards are stationed along our +road, however many policemen guard our wealth, however many so- +called criminals, revolutionists, and anarchists we punish, +whatever exploits we have performed, whatever states we may have +founded, fortresses and towers we may have erected--from Babel to +the Eiffel Tower--there are two inevitable conditions of life, +confronting all of us, which destroy its whole meaning; (1) death, +which may at any moment pounce upon each of us; and (2) the +transitoriness of all our works, which so soon pass away and leave +no trace. Whatever we may do--found companies, build palaces and +monuments, write songs and poems--it is all not for long time. +Soon it passes away, leaving no trace. And therefore, however we +may conceal it from ourselves, we cannot help seeing that the +significance of our life cannot lie in our personal fleshly +existence, the prey of incurable suffering and inevitable death, +nor in any social institution or organization. Whoever you may be +who are reading these lines, think of your position and of your +duties--not of your position as landowner, merchant, judge, +emperor, president, minister, priest, soldier, which has been +temporarily allotted you by men, and not of the imaginary duties +laid on you by those positions, but of your real positions in +eternity as a creature who at the will of Someone has been called +out of unconsciousness after an eternity of non-existence to which +you may return at any moment at his will. Think of your duties-- +not your supposed duties as a landowner to your estate, as a +merchant to your business, as emperor, minister, or official to +the state, but of your real duties, the duties that follow from +your real position as a being called into life and endowed with +reason and love. + +Are you doing what he demands of you who has sent you into the +world, and to whom you will soon return? Are you doing what he +wills? Are you doing his will, when as landowner or manufacturer +you rob the poor of the fruits of their toil, basing your life on +this plunder of the workers, or when, as judge or governor, you +ill treat men, sentence them to execution, or when as soldiers you +prepare for war, kill and plunder? + +You will say that the world is so made that this is inevitable, +and that you do not do this of your own free will, but because you +are forced to do so. But can it be that you have such a strong +aversion to men's sufferings, ill treatment, and murder, that you +have such an intense need of love and co-operation with your +fellows that you see clearly that only by the recognition of the +equality of all, and by mutual services, can the greatest possible +happiness be realized; that your head and your heart, the faith +you profess, and even science itself tell you the same thing, and +yet that in spite of it all you can be forced by some confused and +complicated reasoning to act in direct opposition to all this; +that as landowner or capitalist you are bound to base your whole +life on the oppression of the people; that as emperor or president +you are to command armies, that is, to be the head and commander +of murderers; or that as government official you are forced to +take from the poor their last pence for rich men to profit and +share them among themselves; or that as judge or juryman you could +be forced to sentence erring men to ill treatment and death +because the truth was not revealed to them, or above all, for that +is the basis of all the evil, that you could be forced to become a +soldier, and renouncing your free will and your human sentiments, +could undertake to kill anyone at the command of other men? + +It cannot be. + +Even if you are told that all this is necessary for the +maintenance of the existing order of things, and that this social +order with its pauperism, famines, prisons, gallows, armies, and +wars is necessary to society; that still greater disasters would +ensue if this organization were destroyed; all that is said only +by those who profit by this organization, while those who suffer +from it--and they are ten times as numerous--think and say quite +the contrary. And at the bottom of your heart you know yourself +that it is not true, that the existing organization has outlived +its time, and must inevitably be reconstructed on new principles, +and that consequently there is no obligation upon you to sacrifice +your sentiments of humanity to support it. + +Above all, even if you allow that this organization is necessary, +why do you believe it to be your duty to maintain it at the cost +of your best feelings? Who has made you the nurse in charge of +this sick and moribund organization? Not society nor the state +nor anyone; no one has asked you to undertake this; you who fill +your position of landowner, merchant, tzar, priest, or soldier +know very well that you occupy that position by no means with the +unselfish aim of maintaining the organization of life necessary to +men's happiness, but simply in your own interests, to satisfy your +own covetousness or vanity or ambition or indolence or cowardice. +If you did not desire that position, you would not be doing your +utmost to retain it. Try the experiment of ceasing to commit the +cruel, treacherous, and base actions that you are constantly +committing in order to retain your position, and you will lose it +at once. Try the simple experiment, as a government official, of +giving up lying, and refusing to take a part in executions and +acts of violence; as a priest, of giving up deception; as a +soldier, of giving up murder; as landowner or manufacturer, of +giving up defending your property by fraud and force; and you will +at once lose the position which you pretend is forced upon you, +and which seems burdensome to you. + +A man cannot be placed against his will in a situation opposed to +his conscience. + +If you find yourself in such a position it is not because it is +necessary to anyone whatever, but simply because you wish it. And +therefore knowing that your position is repugnant to your heart +and your head, and to your faith, and even to the science in which +you believe, you cannot help reflecting upon the question whether +in retaining it, and above all trying to justify it, you are doing +what you ought to do. + +You might risk making a mistake if you had time to see and +retrieve your fault, and if you ran the risk for something of some +value. But when you know beyond all doubt that you may disappear +any minute, without the least possibility either for yourself or +those you draw after you into your error, of retrieving the +mistake, when you know that whatever you may do in the external +organization of life it will all disappear as quickly and surely +as you will yourself, and will leave no trace behind, it is clear +that you have no reasonable ground for running the risk of such a +fearful mistake. + +It would be perfectly simple and clear if you did not by your +hypocrisy disguise the truth which has so unmistakably been +revealed to us. + +Share all that you have with others, do not heap up riches, do not +steal, do not cause suffering, do not kill, do not unto others +what you would not they should do unto you, all that has been said +not eighteen hundred, but five thousand years ago, and there could +be no doubt of the truth of this law if it were not for hypocrisy. +Except for hypocrisy men could not have failed, if not to put the +law in practice, at least to recognize it, and admit that it is +wrong not to put it in practice. + +But you will say that there is the public good to be considered, +and that on that account one must not and ought not to conform to +these principles; for the public good one may commit acts of +violence and murder. It is better for one man to die than that +the whole people perish, you will say like Caiaphas, and you sign +the sentence of death of one man, of a second, and a third; you +load your gun against this man who is to perish for the public +good, you imprison him, you take his possessions. You say that +you commit these acts of cruelty because you are a part of the +society and of the state; that it is your duty to serve them, and +as landowner, judge, emperor, or soldier to conform to their laws. +But besides belonging to the state and having duties created by +that position, you belong also to eternity and to God, who also +lays duties upon you. And just as your duties to your family and +to society are subordinate to your superior duties to the state, +in the same way the latter must necessarily be subordinated to the +duties dictated to you by the eternal life and by God. And just +as it would be senseless to pull up the telegraph posts for fuel +for a family or society and thus to increase its welfare at the +expense of public interests, in the same way it is senseless to do +violence, to execute, and to murder to increase the welfare of the +nation, because that is at the expense of the interests of +humanity. + +Your duties as a citizen cannot but be subordinated to the +superior obligations of the eternal life of God, and cannot be in +opposition to them. As Christ's disciples said eighteen centuries +ago: "Whether it be right in the sight of God to hearken unto you +more than unto God, judge ye" (Acts iv. 19); and, "We ought to +obey God rather than men" (Acts v. 29). + +It is asserted that, in order that the unstable order of things, +established in one corner of the world for a few men, may not be +destroyed, you ought to commit acts of violence which destroy the +eternal and immutable order established by God and by reason. Can +that possibly be? + +And therefore you cannot but reflect on your position as +landowner, manufacturer, judge, emperor, president, minister, +priest, and soldier, which is bound up with violence, deception, +and murder, and recognize its unlawfulness. + +I do not say that if you are a landowner you are bound to give up +your lands immediately to the poor; if a capitalist or +manufacturer, your money to your workpeople; or that if you are +Tzar, minister, official, judge, or general, you are bound to +renounce immediately the advantages of your position; or if a +soldier, on whom all the system of violence is based, to refuse +immediately to obey in spite of all the dangers of +insubordination. + +If you do so, you will be doing the best thing possible. But it +may happen, and it is most likely, that you will not have the +strength to do so. You have relations, a family, subordinates and +superiors; you are under an influence so powerful that you cannot +shake it off; but you can always recognize the truth and refuse to +tell a lie about it. You need not declare that you are remaining +a landowner, manufacturer, merchant, artist, or writer because it +is useful to mankind; that you are governor, prosecutor, or tzar, +not because it is agreeable to you, because you are used to it, +but for the public good; that you continue to be a soldier, not +from fear of punishment, but because you consider the army +necessary to society. You can always avoid lying in this way to +yourself and to others, and you ought to do so; because the one +aim of your life ought to be to purify yourself from falsehood and +to confess the truth. And you need only do that and your +situation will change directly of itself. + +There is one thing, and only one thing, in which it is granted to +you to be free in life, all else being beyond your power: that is +to recognize and profess the truth. + +And yet simply from the fact that other men as misguided and as +pitiful creatures as yourself have made you soldier, tzar, +landowner, capitalist, priest, or general, you undertake to commit +acts of violence obviously opposed to your reason and your heart, +to base your existence on the misfortunes of others, and above +all, instead of filling the one duty of your life, recognizing and +professing the truth, you feign not to recognize it and disguise +it from yourself and others. + +And what are the conditions in which you are doing this? You who +may die any instant, you sign sentences of death, you declare war, +you take part in it, you judge, you punish, you plunder the +working people, you live luxuriously in the midst of the poor, and +teach weak men who have confidence in you that this must be so, +that the duty of men is to do this, and yet it may happen at the +moment when you are acting thus that a bacterium or a bull may +attack you and you will fall and die, losing forever the chance of +repairing the harm you have done to others, and above all to +yourself, in uselessly wasting a life which has been given you +only once in eternity, without having accomplished the only thing +you ought to have done. + +However commonplace and out of date it may seem to us, however +confused we may be by hypocrisy and by the hypnotic suggestion +which results from it, nothing can destroy the certainty of this +simple and clearly defined truth. No external conditions can +guarantee our life, which is attended with inevitable sufferings +and infallibly terminated by death, and which consequently can +have no significance except in the constant accomplishment of what +is demanded by the Power which has placed us in life with a sole +certain guide--the rational conscience. + +That is why that Power cannot require of us what is irrational and +impossible: the organization of our temporary external life, the +life of society or of the state. That Power demands of us only +what is reasonable, certain, and possible: to serve the kingdom of +God, that is, to contribute to the establishment of the greatest +possible union between all living beings--a union possible only in +the truth; and to recognize and to profess the revealed truth, +which is always in our power. + +"But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness, and +all these things shall be added unto you." (Matt. vi. 33.) + +The sole meaning of life is to serve humanity by contributing to +the establishment of the kingdom of God, which can only be done by +the recognition and profession of the truth by every man. + +"The kingdom of God cometh not with outward show; neither shall +they say, Lo here! or, Lo there! for behold, the kingdom of God is +within you." (Luke xvii. 20, 21.) + +THE END. + + +-------------------------------------------------------------------- +[Transcribists note: This translation contains what seems to my +early 21st Century perception as mistakes, both in typography and +in standardness of language. I have left issues of standard +language uncorrected, and have only fixed typographical errors +in which the word was nearly unrecognizable, but clear from context. + +An example: "...those who have seized power AUD who keep it..." was +changed to: "...those who have seized power AND who keep it...". + +Another example: where he meant "village" the book has "vilage"; +I left such misspellings as is. + +In some cases, missing punctuation in a series was corrected, where +every other member of the series is punctuated: 1. 2. 3 4. +If I had a doubt, nothing was changed. + +I indented paragraphs, for clarity, when Tolstoy quotes large blocks +of text from other authors. However, often Tolsoy interspersed +quoted material with his commentary [as when talking about the author +Farrar]. I was not able to separate these for fear of editing the +author. + +Italics were represented here, with the substitution of capital +letters. + +Translations for long passages of French follow in the footnotes. +-------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + + + + +Project Gutenberg's The Kingdom of God is within you, by Leo Tolstoy +********This file should be named 8tkhw10.txt or 8tkhw10.zip******** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, 8tkhw11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8tkhw10a.txt + +This etext was produced by Jack Eden + +More information about this book is at the top of this file. + +We are now trying to release all our etexts one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Father Sergius + +Author: Leo Tolstoy + +Translator: Louise and Aylmer Maude + +Release Date: February 5, 2006 [EBook #985] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FATHER SERGIUS *** + + + + +Produced by Judith Boss + + + + + +FATHER SERGIUS + +by Leo Tolstoy + + + + +I + +In Petersburg in the eighteen-forties a surprising event occurred. An +officer of the Cuirassier Life Guards, a handsome prince who everyone +predicted would become aide-de-camp to the Emperor Nicholas I and have +a brilliant career, left the service, broke off his engagement to a +beautiful maid of honour, a favourite of the Empress's, gave his small +estate to his sister, and retired to a monastery to become a monk. + +This event appeared extraordinary and inexplicable to those who did not +know his inner motives, but for Prince Stepan Kasatsky himself it all +occurred so naturally that he could not imagine how he could have acted +otherwise. + +His father, a retired colonel of the Guards, had died when Stepan was +twelve, and sorry as his mother was to part from her son, she entered +him at the Military College as her deceased husband had intended. + +The widow herself, with her daughter, Varvara, moved to Petersburg to be +near her son and have him with her for the holidays. + +The boy was distinguished both by his brilliant ability and by his +immense self-esteem. He was first both in his studies--especially in +mathematics, of which he was particularly fond--and also in drill and in +riding. Though of more than average height, he was handsome and agile, +and he would have been an altogether exemplary cadet had it not been for +his quick temper. He was remarkably truthful, and was neither dissipated +nor addicted to drink. The only faults that marred his conduct were +fits of fury to which he was subject and during which he lost control of +himself and became like a wild animal. He once nearly threw out of the +window another cadet who had begun to tease him about his collection +of minerals. On another occasion he came almost completely to grief +by flinging a whole dish of cutlets at an officer who was acting as +steward, attacking him and, it was said, striking him for having broken +his word and told a barefaced lie. He would certainly have been reduced +to the ranks had not the Director of the College hushed up the whole +matter and dismissed the steward. + +By the time he was eighteen he had finished his College course and +received a commission as lieutenant in an aristocratic regiment of the +Guards. + +The Emperor Nicholas Pavlovich (Nicholas I) had noticed him while he +was still at the College, and continued to take notice of him in the +regiment, and it was on this account that people predicted for him an +appointment as aide-de-camp to the Emperor. Kasatsky himself strongly +desired it, not from ambition only but chiefly because since his cadet +days he had been passionately devoted to Nicholas Pavlovich. The Emperor +had often visited the Military College and every time Kasatsky saw +that tall erect figure, with breast expanded in its military overcoat, +entering with brisk step, saw the cropped side-whiskers, the moustache, +the aquiline nose, and heard the sonorous voice exchanging greetings +with the cadets, he was seized by the same rapture that he experienced +later on when he met the woman he loved. Indeed, his passionate +adoration of the Emperor was even stronger: he wished to sacrifice +something--everything, even himself--to prove his complete devotion. +And the Emperor Nicholas was conscious of evoking this rapture and +deliberately aroused it. He played with the cadets, surrounded himself +with them, treating them sometimes with childish simplicity, sometimes +as a friend, and then again with majestic solemnity. After that affair +with the officer, Nicholas Pavlovich said nothing to Kasatsky, but when +the latter approached he waved him away theatrically, frowned, shook his +finger at him, and afterwards when leaving, said: 'Remember that I know +everything. There are some things I would rather not know, but they +remain here,' and he pointed to his heart. + +When on leaving College the cadets were received by the Emperor, he did +not again refer to Kasatsky's offence, but told them all, as was his +custom, that they should serve him and the fatherland loyally, that he +would always be their best friend, and that when necessary they might +approach him direct. All the cadets were as usual greatly moved, and +Kasatsky even shed tears, remembering the past, and vowed that he would +serve his beloved Tsar with all his soul. + +When Kasatsky took up his commission his mother moved with her daughter +first to Moscow and then to their country estate. Kasatsky gave half his +property to his sister and kept only enough to maintain himself in the +expensive regiment he had joined. + +To all appearance he was just an ordinary, brilliant young officer +of the Guards making a career for himself; but intense and complex +strivings went on within him. From early childhood his efforts had +seemed to be very varied, but essentially they were all one and the +same. He tried in everything he took up to attain such success and +perfection as would evoke praise and surprise. Whether it was his +studies or his military exercises, he took them up and worked at them +till he was praised and held up as an example to others. Mastering one +subject he took up another, and obtained first place in his studies. For +example, while still at College he noticed in himself an awkwardness in +French conversation, and contrived to master French till he spoke it +as well as Russian, and then he took up chess and became an excellent +player. + +Apart from his main vocation, which was the service of his Tsar and +the fatherland, he always set himself some particular aim, and however +unimportant it was, devoted himself completely to it and lived for it +until it was accomplished. And as soon as it was attained another +aim would immediately present itself, replacing its predecessor. This +passion for distinguishing himself, or for accomplishing something +in order to distinguish himself, filled his life. On taking up his +commission he set himself to acquire the utmost perfection in knowledge +of the service, and very soon became a model officer, though still with +the same fault of ungovernable irascibility, which here in the service +again led him to commit actions inimical to his success. Then he took to +reading, having once in conversation in society felt himself deficient +in general education--and again achieved his purpose. Then, wishing +to secure a brilliant position in high society, he learnt to dance +excellently and very soon was invited to all the balls in the best +circles, and to some of their evening gatherings. But this did not +satisfy him: he was accustomed to being first, and in this society was +far from being so. + +The highest society then consisted, and I think always consist, of +four sorts of people: rich people who are received at Court, people +not wealthy but born and brought up in Court circles, rich people who +ingratiate themselves into the Court set, and people neither rich nor +belonging to the Court but who ingratiate themselves into the first and +second sets. + +Kasatsky did not belong to the first two sets, but was readily welcomed +in the others. On entering society he determined to have relations with +some society lady, and to his own surprise quickly accomplished this +purpose. He soon realized, however, that the circles in which he moved +were not the highest, and that though he was received in the highest +spheres he did not belong to them. They were polite to him, but showed +by their whole manner that they had their own set and that he was not of +it. And Kasatsky wished to belong to that inner circle. To attain that +end it would be necessary to be an aide-de-camp to the Emperor--which +he expected to become--or to marry into that exclusive set, which he +resolved to do. And his choice fell on a beauty belonging to the +Court, who not merely belonged to the circle into which he wished to be +accepted, but whose friendship was coveted by the very highest people +and those most firmly established in that highest circle. This was +Countess Korotkova. Kasatsky began to pay court to her, and not merely +for the sake of his career. She was extremely attractive and he soon +fell in love with her. At first she was noticeably cool towards him, +but then suddenly changed and became gracious, and her mother gave him +pressing invitations to visit them. Kasatsky proposed and was accepted. +He was surprised at the facility with which he attained such happiness. +But though he noticed something strange and unusual in the behaviour +towards him of both mother and daughter, he was blinded by being +so deeply in love, and did not realize what almost the whole town +knew--namely, that his fiancee had been the Emperor Nicholas's mistress +the previous year. + +Two weeks before the day arranged for the wedding, Kasatsky was at +Tsarskoe Selo at his fiancee's country place. It was a hot day in May. +He and his betrothed had walked about the garden and were sitting on +a bench in a shady linden alley. Mary's white muslin dress suited her +particularly well, and she seemed the personification of innocence and +love as she sat, now bending her head, now gazing up at the very tall +and handsome man who was speaking to her with particular tenderness and +self-restraint, as if he feared by word or gesture to offend or sully +her angelic purity. + +Kasatsky belonged to those men of the eighteen-forties (they are now no +longer to be found) who while deliberately and without any conscientious +scruples condoning impurity in themselves, required ideal and angelic +purity in their women, regarded all unmarried women of their circle as +possessed of such purity, and treated them accordingly. There was much +that was false and harmful in this outlook, as concerning the laxity the +men permitted themselves, but in regard to the women that old-fashioned +view (sharply differing from that held by young people to-day who see in +every girl merely a female seeking a mate) was, I think, of value. The +girls, perceiving such adoration, endeavoured with more or less success +to be goddesses. + +Such was the view Kasatsky held of women, and that was how he regarded +his fiancee. He was particularly in love that day, but did not +experience any sensual desire for her. On the contrary he regarded her +with tender adoration as something unattainable. + +He rose to his full height, standing before her with both hands on his +sabre. + +'I have only now realized what happiness a man can experience! And it is +you, my darling, who have given me this happiness,' he said with a timid +smile. + +Endearments had not yet become usual between them, and feeling himself +morally inferior he felt terrified at this stage to use them to such an +angel. + +'It is thanks to you that I have come to know myself. I have learnt that +I am better than I thought.' + +'I have known that for a long time. That was why I began to love you.' + +Nightingales trilled near by and the fresh leafage rustled, moved by a +passing breeze. + +He took her hand and kissed it, and tears came into his eyes. + +She understood that he was thanking her for having said she loved him. +He silently took a few steps up and down, and then approached her again +and sat down. + +'You know . . . I have to tell you . . . I was not disinterested when I +began to make love to you. I wanted to get into society; but later . . . +how unimportant that became in comparison with you--when I got to know +you. You are not angry with me for that?' + +She did not reply but merely touched his hand. He understood that this +meant: 'No, I am not angry.' + +'You said . . .' He hesitated. It seemed too bold to say. 'You said that +you began to love me. I believe it--but there is something that troubles +you and checks your feeling. What is it?' + +'Yes--now or never!' thought she. 'He is bound to know of it anyway. But +now he will not forsake me. Ah, if he should, it would be terrible!' And +she threw a loving glance at his tall, noble, powerful figure. She loved +him now more than she had loved the Tsar, and apart from the Imperial +dignity would not have preferred the Emperor to him. + +'Listen! I cannot deceive you. I have to tell you. You ask what it is? +It is that I have loved before.' + +She again laid her hand on his with an imploring gesture. He was silent. + +'You want to know who it was? It was--the Emperor.' + +'We all love him. I can imagine you, a schoolgirl at the Institute . . .' + +'No, it was later. I was infatuated, but it passed . . . I must tell +you . . .' + +'Well, what of it?' + +'No, it was not simply--' She covered her face with her hands. + +'What? You gave yourself to him?' + +She was silent. + +'His mistress?' + +She did not answer. + +He sprang up and stood before her with trembling jaws, pale as death. He +now remembered how the Emperor, meeting him on the Nevsky, had amiably +congratulated him. + +'O God, what have I done! Stiva!' + +'Don't touch me! Don't touch me! Oh, how it pains!' + +He turned away and went to the house. There he met her mother. + +'What is the matter, Prince? I . . .' She became silent on seeing his +face. The blood had suddenly rushed to his head. + +'You knew it, and used me to shield them! If you weren't a woman . . . !' +he cried, lifting his enormous fist, and turning aside he ran away. + +Had his fiancee's lover been a private person he would have killed him, +but it was his beloved Tsar. + +Next day he applied both for furlough and his discharge, and professing +to be ill, so as to see no one, he went away to the country. + +He spent the summer at his village arranging his affairs. When summer +was over he did not return to Petersburg, but entered a monastery and +there became a monk. + +His mother wrote to try to dissuade him from this decisive step, but +he replied that he felt God's call which transcended all other +considerations. Only his sister, who was as proud and ambitious as he, +understood him. + +She understood that he had become a monk in order to be above those who +considered themselves his superiors. And she understood him correctly. +By becoming a monk he showed contempt for all that seemed most important +to others and had seemed so to him while he was in the service, and +he now ascended a height from which he could look down on those he had +formerly envied. . . . But it was not this alone, as his sister Varvara +supposed, that influenced him. There was also in him something else--a +sincere religious feeling which Varvara did not know, which intertwined +itself with the feeling of pride and the desire for pre-eminence, +and guided him. His disillusionment with Mary, whom he had thought +of angelic purity, and his sense of injury, were so strong that they +brought him to despair, and the despair led him--to what? To God, to his +childhood's faith which had never been destroyed in him. + + + +II + +Kasatsky entered the monastery on the feast of the Intercession of the +Blessed Virgin. The Abbot of that monastery was a gentleman by birth, a +learned writer and a starets, that is, he belonged to that succession +of monks originating in Walachia who each choose a director and teacher +whom they implicitly obey. This Superior had been a disciple of the +starets Ambrose, who was a disciple of Makarius, who was a disciple of +the starets Leonid, who was a disciple of Paussy Velichkovsky. + +To this Abbot Kasatsky submitted himself as to his chosen director. Here +in the monastery, besides the feeling of ascendency over others that +such a life gave him, he felt much as he had done in the world: he found +satisfaction in attaining the greatest possible perfection outwardly +as well as inwardly. As in the regiment he had been not merely an +irreproachable officer but had even exceeded his duties and widened the +borders of perfection, so also as a monk he tried to be perfect, and was +always industrious, abstemious, submissive, and meek, as well as +pure both in deed and in thought, and obedient. This last quality in +particular made life far easier for him. If many of the demands of life +in the monastery, which was near the capital and much frequented, did +not please him and were temptations to him, they were all nullified by +obedience: 'It is not for me to reason; my business is to do the task +set me, whether it be standing beside the relics, singing in the choir, +or making up accounts in the monastery guest-house.' All possibility of +doubt about anything was silenced by obedience to the starets. Had +it not been for this, he would have been oppressed by the length and +monotony of the church services, the bustle of the many visitors, and +the bad qualities of the other monks. As it was, he not only bore it +all joyfully but found in it solace and support. 'I don't know why it is +necessary to hear the same prayers several times a day, but I know that +it is necessary; and knowing this I find joy in them.' His director told +him that as material food is necessary for the maintenance of the life +of the body, so spiritual food--the church prayers--is necessary for +the maintenance of the spiritual life. He believed this, and though the +church services, for which he had to get up early in the morning, were +a difficulty, they certainly calmed him and gave him joy. This was the +result of his consciousness of humility, and the certainty that whatever +he had to do, being fixed by the starets, was right. + +The interest of his life consisted not only in an ever greater and +greater subjugation of his will, but in the attainment of all the +Christian virtues, which at first seemed to him easily attainable. He +had given his whole estate to his sister and did not regret it, he had +no personal claims, humility towards his inferiors was not merely easy +for him but afforded him pleasure. Even victory over the sins of the +flesh, greed and lust, was easily attained. His director had specially +warned him against the latter sin, but Kasatsky felt free from it and +was glad. + +One thing only tormented him--the remembrance of his fiancee; and not +merely the remembrance but the vivid image of what might have been. +Involuntarily he recalled a lady he knew who had been a favourite of the +Emperor's, but had afterwards married and become an admirable wife and +mother. The husband had a high position, influence and honour, and a +good and penitent wife. + +In his better hours Kasatsky was not disturbed by such thoughts, and +when he recalled them at such times he was merely glad to feel that the +temptation was past. But there were moments when all that made up his +present life suddenly grew dim before him, moments when, if he did not +cease to believe in the aims he had set himself, he ceased to see them +and could evoke no confidence in them but was seized by a remembrance +of, and--terrible to say--a regret for, the change of life he had made. + +The only thing that saved him in that state of mind was obedience and +work, and the fact that the whole day was occupied by prayer. He went +through the usual forms of prayer, he bowed in prayer, he even prayed +more than usual, but it was lip-service only and his soul was not in it. +This condition would continue for a day, or sometimes for two days, and +would then pass of itself. But those days were dreadful. Kasatsky felt +that he was neither in his own hands nor in God's, but was subject +to something else. All he could do then was to obey the starets, to +restrain himself, to undertake nothing, and simply to wait. In general +all this time he lived not by his own will but by that of the starets, +and in this obedience he found a special tranquillity. + +So he lived in his first monastery for seven years. At the end of the +third year he received the tonsure and was ordained to the priesthood by +the name of Sergius. The profession was an important event in his inner +life. He had previously experienced a great consolation and spiritual +exaltation when receiving communion, and now when he himself officiated, +the performance of the preparation filled him with ecstatic and deep +emotion. But subsequently that feeling became more and more deadened, +and once when he was officiating in a depressed state of mind he felt +that the influence produced on him by the service would not endure. And +it did in fact weaken till only the habit remained. + +In general in the seventh year of his life in the monastery Sergius grew +weary. He had learnt all there was to learn and had attained all there +was to attain, there was nothing more to do and his spiritual drowsiness +increased. During this time he heard of his mother's death and his +sister Varvara's marriage, but both events were matters of indifference +to him. His whole attention and his whole interest were concentrated on +his inner life. + +In the fourth year of his priesthood, during which the Bishop had been +particularly kind to him, the starets told him that he ought not to +decline it if he were offered an appointment to higher duties. Then +monastic ambition, the very thing he had found so repulsive in other +monks, arose within him. He was assigned to a monastery near the +metropolis. He wished to refuse but the starets ordered him to accept +the appointment. He did so, and took leave of the starets and moved to +the other monastery. + +The exchange into the metropolitan monastery was an important event in +Sergius's life. There he encountered many temptations, and his whole +will-power was concentrated on meeting them. + +In the first monastery, women had not been a temptation to him, but +here that temptation arose with terrible strength and even took definite +shape. There was a lady known for her frivolous behaviour who began to +seek his favour. She talked to him and asked him to visit her. Sergius +sternly declined, but was horrified by the definiteness of his desire. +He was so alarmed that he wrote about it to the starets. And in +addition, to keep himself in hand, he spoke to a young novice and, +conquering his sense of shame, confessed his weakness to him, asking him +to keep watch on him and not let him go anywhere except to service and +to fulfil his duties. + +Besides this, a great pitfall for Sergius lay in the fact of his extreme +antipathy to his new Abbot, a cunning worldly man who was making a +career for himself in the Church. Struggle with himself as he might, he +could not master that feeling. He was submissive to the Abbot, but in +the depths of his soul he never ceased to condemn him. And in the second +year of his residence at the new monastery that ill-feeling broke out. + +The Vigil service was being performed in the large church on the eve of +the feast of the Intercession of the Blessed Virgin, and there were many +visitors. The Abbot himself was conducting the service. Father Sergius +was standing in his usual place and praying: that is, he was in that +condition of struggle which always occupied him during the service, +especially in the large church when he was not himself conducting the +service. This conflict was occasioned by his irritation at the presence +of fine folk, especially ladies. He tried not to see them or to notice +all that went on: how a soldier conducted them, pushing the +common people aside, how the ladies pointed out the monks to one +another--especially himself and a monk noted for his good looks. He +tried as it were to keep his mind in blinkers, to see nothing but +the light of the candles on the altar-screen, the icons, and those +conducting the service. He tried to hear nothing but the prayers +that were being chanted or read, to feel nothing but self-oblivion in +consciousness of the fulfilment of duty--a feeling he always experienced +when hearing or reciting in advance the prayers he had so often heard. + +So he stood, crossing and prostrating himself when necessary, and +struggled with himself, now giving way to cold condemnation and now to +a consciously evoked obliteration of thought and feeling. Then the +sacristan, Father Nicodemus--also a great stumbling-block to Sergius +who involuntarily reproached him for flattering and fawning on the +Abbot--approached him and, bowing low, requested his presence behind the +holy gates. Father Sergius straightened his mantle, put on his biretta, +and went circumspectly through the crowd. + +'Lise, regarde a droite, c'est lui!' he heard a woman's voice say. + +'Ou, ou? Il n'est pas tellement beau.' + +He knew that they were speaking of him. He heard them and, as always +at moments of temptation, he repeated the words, 'Lead us not into +temptation,' and bowing his head and lowering his eyes went past the +ambo and in by the north door, avoiding the canons in their cassocks who +were just then passing the altar-screen. On entering the sanctuary he +bowed, crossing himself as usual and bending double before the icons. +Then, raising his head but without turning, he glanced out of the corner +of his eye at the Abbot, whom he saw standing beside another glittering +figure. + +The Abbot was standing by the wall in his vestments. Having freed his +short plump hands from beneath his chasuble he had folded them over +his fat body and protruding stomach, and fingering the cords of his +vestments was smilingly saying something to a military man in the +uniform of a general of the Imperial suite, with its insignia +and shoulder-knots which Father Sergius's experienced eye at once +recognized. This general had been the commander of the regiment in which +Sergius had served. He now evidently occupied an important position, and +Father Sergius at once noticed that the Abbot was aware of this and that +his red face and bald head beamed with satisfaction and pleasure. This +vexed and disgusted Father Sergius, the more so when he heard that the +Abbot had only sent for him to satisfy the general's curiosity to see a +man who had formerly served with him, as he expressed it. + +'Very pleased to see you in your angelic guise,' said the general, +holding out his hand. 'I hope you have not forgotten an old comrade.' + +The whole thing--the Abbot's red, smiling face amid its fringe of grey, +the general's words, his well-cared-for face with its self-satisfied +smile and the smell of wine from his breath and of cigars from his +whiskers--revolted Father Sergius. He bowed again to the Abbot and said: + +'Your reverence deigned to send for me?'--and stopped, the whole +expression of his face and eyes asking why. + +'Yes, to meet the General,' replied the Abbot. + +'Your reverence, I left the world to save myself from temptation,' said +Father Sergius, turning pale and with quivering lips. 'Why do you expose +me to it during prayers and in God's house?' + +'You may go! Go!' said the Abbot, flaring up and frowning. + +Next day Father Sergius asked pardon of the Abbot and of the brethren +for his pride, but at the same time, after a night spent in prayer, he +decided that he must leave this monastery, and he wrote to the starets +begging permission to return to him. He wrote that he felt his weakness +and incapacity to struggle against temptation without his help and +penitently confessed his sin of pride. By return of post came a letter +from the starets, who wrote that Sergius's pride was the cause of all +that had happened. The old man pointed out that his fits of anger were +due to the fact that in refusing all clerical honours he humiliated +himself not for the sake of God but for the sake of his pride. 'There +now, am I not a splendid man not to want anything?' That was why he +could not tolerate the Abbot's action. 'I have renounced everything for +the glory of God, and here I am exhibited like a wild beast!' 'Had you +renounced vanity for God's sake you would have borne it. Worldly pride +is not yet dead in you. I have thought about you, Sergius my son, and +prayed also, and this is what God has suggested to me. At the Tambov +hermitage the anchorite Hilary, a man of saintly life, has died. He had +lived there eighteen years. The Tambov Abbot is asking whether there is +not a brother who would take his place. And here comes your letter. Go +to Father Paissy of the Tambov Monastery. I will write to him about you, +and you must ask for Hilary's cell. Not that you can replace Hilary, but +you need solitude to quell your pride. May God bless you!' + +Sergius obeyed the starets, showed his letter to the Abbot, and having +obtained his permission, gave up his cell, handed all his possessions +over to the monastery, and set out for the Tambov hermitage. + +There the Abbot, an excellent manager of merchant origin, received +Sergius simply and quietly and placed him in Hilary's cell, at first +assigning to him a lay brother but afterwards leaving him alone, at +Sergius's own request. The cell was a dual cave, dug into the hillside, +and in it Hilary had been buried. In the back part was Hilary's grave, +while in the front was a niche for sleeping, with a straw mattress, a +small table, and a shelf with icons and books. Outside the outer door, +which fastened with a hook, was another shelf on which, once a day, a +monk placed food from the monastery. + +And so Sergius became a hermit. + + + +III + +At Carnival time, in the sixth year of Sergius's life at the hermitage, +a merry company of rich people, men and women from a neighbouring town, +made up a troyka-party, after a meal of carnival-pancakes and wine. The +company consisted of two lawyers, a wealthy landowner, an officer, and +four ladies. One lady was the officer's wife, another the wife of +the landowner, the third his sister--a young girl--and the fourth a +divorcee, beautiful, rich, and eccentric, who amazed and shocked the +town by her escapades. + +The weather was excellent and the snow-covered road smooth as a floor. +They drove some seven miles out of town, and then stopped and consulted +as to whether they should turn back or drive farther. + +'But where does this road lead to?' asked Makovkina, the beautiful +divorcee. + +'To Tambov, eight miles from here,' replied one of the lawyers, who was +having a flirtation with her. + +'And then where?' + +'Then on to L----, past the Monastery.' + +'Where that Father Sergius lives?' + +'Yes.' + +'Kasatsky, the handsome hermit?' + +'Yes.' + +'Mesdames et messieurs, let us drive on and see Kasatsky! We can stop at +Tambov and have something to eat.' + +'But we shouldn't get home to-night!' + +'Never mind, we will stay at Kasatsky's.' + +'Well, there is a very good hostelry at the Monastery. I stayed there +when I was defending Makhin.' + +'No, I shall spend the night at Kasatsky's!' + +'Impossible! Even your omnipotence could not accomplish that!' + +'Impossible? Will you bet?' + +'All right! If you spend the night with him, the stake shall be whatever +you like.' + +'A DISCRETION!' + +'But on your side too!' + +'Yes, of course. Let us drive on.' + +Vodka was handed to the drivers, and the party got out a box of pies, +wine, and sweets for themselves. The ladies wrapped up in their white +dogskins. The drivers disputed as to whose troyka should go ahead, and +the youngest, seating himself sideways with a dashing air, swung his +long knout and shouted to the horses. The troyka-bells tinkled and the +sledge-runners squeaked over the snow. + +The sledge swayed hardly at all. The shaft-horse, with his tightly bound +tail under his decorated breechband, galloped smoothly and briskly; the +smooth road seemed to run rapidly backwards, while the driver dashingly +shook the reins. One of the lawyers and the officer sitting opposite +talked nonsense to Makovkina's neighbour, but Makovkina herself sat +motionless and in thought, tightly wrapped in her fur. 'Always the same +and always nasty! The same red shiny faces smelling of wine and cigars! +The same talk, the same thoughts, and always about the same things! And +they are all satisfied and confident that it should be so, and will +go on living like that till they die. But I can't. It bores me. I want +something that would upset it all and turn it upside down. Suppose +it happened to us as to those people--at Saratov was it?--who kept on +driving and froze to death. . . . What would our people do? How would +they behave? Basely, for certain. Each for himself. And I too should act +badly. But I at any rate have beauty. They all know it. And how about +that monk? Is it possible that he has become indifferent to it? No! That +is the one thing they all care for--like that cadet last autumn. What a +fool he was!' + +'Ivan Nikolaevich!' she said aloud. + +'What are your commands?' + +'How old is he?' + +'Who?' + +'Kasatsky.' + +'Over forty, I should think.' + +'And does he receive all visitors?' + +'Yes, everybody, but not always.' + +'Cover up my feet. Not like that--how clumsy you are! No! More, +more--like that! But you need not squeeze them!' + +So they came to the forest where the cell was. + +Makovkina got out of the sledge, and told them to drive on. They tried +to dissuade her, but she grew irritable and ordered them to go on. + +When the sledges had gone she went up the path in her white dogskin +coat. The lawyer got out and stopped to watch her. + +It was Father Sergius's sixth year as a recluse, and he was now +forty-nine. His life in solitude was hard--not on account of the fasts +and the prayers (they were no hardship to him) but on account of an +inner conflict he had not at all anticipated. The sources of that +conflict were two: doubts, and the lust of the flesh. And these two +enemies always appeared together. It seemed to him that they were two +foes, but in reality they were one and the same. As soon as doubt was +gone so was the lustful desire. But thinking them to be two different +fiends he fought them separately. + +'O my God, my God!' thought he. 'Why dost thou not grant me faith? There +is lust, of course: even the saints had to fight that--Saint Anthony and +others. But they had faith, while I have moments, hours, and days, when +it is absent. Why does the whole world, with all its delights, exist +if it is sinful and must be renounced? Why hast Thou created this +temptation? Temptation? Is it not rather a temptation that I wish to +abandon all the joys of earth and prepare something for myself there +where perhaps there is nothing?' And he became horrified and filled with +disgust at himself. 'Vile creature! And it is you who wish to become a +saint!' he upbraided himself, and he began to pray. But as soon as he +started to pray he saw himself vividly as he had been at the Monastery, +in a majestic post in biretta and mantle, and he shook his head. 'No, +that is not right. It is deception. I may deceive others, but not myself +or God. I am not a majestic man, but a pitiable and ridiculous one!' And +he threw back the folds of his cassock and smiled as he looked at his +thin legs in their underclothing. + +Then he dropped the folds of the cassock again and began reading the +prayers, making the sign of the cross and prostrating himself. 'Can +it be that this couch will be my bier?' he read. And it seemed as if a +devil whispered to him: 'A solitary couch is itself a bier. Falsehood!' +And in imagination he saw the shoulders of a widow with whom he had +lived. He shook himself, and went on reading. Having read the precepts +he took up the Gospels, opened the book, and happened on a passage +he often repeated and knew by heart: 'Lord, I believe. Help thou my +unbelief!'--and he put away all the doubts that had arisen. As one +replaces an object of insecure equilibrium, so he carefully replaced his +belief on its shaky pedestal and carefully stepped back from it so as +not to shake or upset it. The blinkers were adjusted again and he felt +tranquillized, and repeating his childhood's prayer: 'Lord, receive me, +receive me!' he felt not merely at ease, but thrilled and joyful. He +crossed himself and lay down on the bedding on his narrow bench, tucking +his summer cassock under his head. He fell asleep at once, and in his +light slumber he seemed to hear the tinkling of sledge bells. He did not +know whether he was dreaming or awake, but a knock at the door aroused +him. He sat up, distrusting his senses, but the knock was repeated. Yes, +it was a knock close at hand, at his door, and with it the sound of a +woman's voice. + +'My God! Can it be true, as I have read in the Lives of the Saints, that +the devil takes on the form of a woman? Yes--it is a woman's voice. +And a tender, timid, pleasant voice. Phui!' And he spat to exorcise the +devil. 'No, it was only my imagination,' he assured himself, and he +went to the corner where his lectern stood, falling on his knees in the +regular and habitual manner which of itself gave him consolation and +satisfaction. He sank down, his hair hanging over his face, and pressed +his head, already going bald in front, to the cold damp strip of drugget +on the draughty floor. He read the psalm old Father Pimon had told him +warded off temptation. He easily raised his light and emaciated body +on his strong sinewy legs and tried to continue saying his prayers, but +instead of doing so he involuntarily strained his hearing. He wished +to hear more. All was quiet. From the corner of the roof regular drops +continued to fall into the tub below. Outside was a mist and fog eating +into the snow that lay on the ground. It was still, very still. And +suddenly there was a rustling at the window and a voice--that +same tender, timid voice, which could only belong to an attractive +woman--said: + +'Let me in, for Christ's sake!' + +It seemed as though his blood had all rushed to his heart and settled +there. He could hardly breathe. 'Let God arise and let his enemies be +scattered . . .' + +'But I am not a devil!' It was obvious that the lips that uttered this +were smiling. 'I am not a devil, but only a sinful woman who has lost +her way, not figuratively but literally!' She laughed. 'I am frozen and +beg for shelter.' + +He pressed his face to the window, but the little icon-lamp was +reflected by it and shone on the whole pane. He put his hands to both +sides of his face and peered between them. Fog, mist, a tree, and--just +opposite him--she herself. Yes, there, a few inches from him, was the +sweet, kindly frightened face of a woman in a cap and a coat of long +white fur, leaning towards him. Their eyes met with instant recognition: +not that they had ever known one another, they had never met before, +but by the look they exchanged they--and he particularly--felt that they +knew and understood one another. After that glance to imagine her to be +a devil and not a simple, kindly, sweet, timid woman, was impossible. + +'Who are you? Why have you come?' he asked. + +'Do please open the door!' she replied, with capricious authority. 'I am +frozen. I tell you I have lost my way.' + +'But I am a monk--a hermit.' + +'Oh, do please open the door--or do you wish me to freeze under your +window while you say your prayers?' + +'But how have you . . .' + +'I shan't eat you. For God's sake let me in! I am quite frozen.' + +She really did feel afraid, and said this in an almost tearful voice. + +He stepped back from the window and looked at an icon of the Saviour +in His crown of thorns. 'Lord, help me! Lord, help me!' he exclaimed, +crossing himself and bowing low. Then he went to the door, and opening +it into the tiny porch, felt for the hook that fastened the outer door +and began to lift it. He heard steps outside. She was coming from the +window to the door. 'Ah!' she suddenly exclaimed, and he understood +that she had stepped into the puddle that the dripping from the roof had +formed at the threshold. His hands trembled, and he could not raise the +hook of the tightly closed door. + +'Oh, what are you doing? Let me in! I am all wet. I am frozen! You are +thinking about saving your soul and are letting me freeze to death . . .' + +He jerked the door towards him, raised the hook, and without considering +what he was doing, pushed it open with such force that it struck her. + +'Oh--PARDON!' he suddenly exclaimed, reverting completely to his old +manner with ladies. + +She smiled on hearing that PARDON. 'He is not quite so terrible, after +all,' she thought. 'It's all right. It is you who must pardon me,' she +said, stepping past him. 'I should never have ventured, but such an +extraordinary circumstance . . .' + +'If you please!' he uttered, and stood aside to let her pass him. A +strong smell of fine scent, which he had long not encountered, struck +him. She went through the little porch into the cell where he lived. He +closed the outer door without fastening the hook, and stepped in after +her. + +'Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner! Lord, have +mercy on me a sinner!' he prayed unceasingly, not merely to himself but +involuntarily moving his lips. 'If you please!' he said to her again. +She stood in the middle of the room, moisture dripping from her to the +floor as she looked him over. Her eyes were laughing. + +'Forgive me for having disturbed your solitude. But you see what a +position I am in. It all came about from our starting from town for a +sledge-drive, and my making a bet that I would walk back by myself from +the Vorobevka to the town. But then I lost my way, and if I had not +happened to come upon your cell . . .' She began lying, but his face +confused her so that she could not continue, but became silent. She had +not expected him to be at all such as he was. He was not as handsome +as she had imagined, but was nevertheless beautiful in her eyes: his +greyish hair and beard, slightly curling, his fine, regular nose, +and his eyes like glowing coal when he looked at her, made a strong +impression on her. + +He saw that she was lying. + +'Yes . . . so,' said he, looking at her and again lowering his eyes. 'I +will go in there, and this place is at your disposal.' + +And taking down the little lamp, he lit a candle, and bowing low to her +went into the small cell beyond the partition, and she heard him begin +to move something about there. 'Probably he is barricading himself in +from me!' she thought with a smile, and throwing off her white dogskin +cloak she tried to take off her cap, which had become entangled in her +hair and in the woven kerchief she was wearing under it. She had not +got at all wet when standing under the window, and had said so only as +a pretext to get him to let her in. But she really had stepped into the +puddle at the door, and her left foot was wet up to the ankle and her +overshoe full of water. She sat down on his bed--a bench only covered by +a bit of carpet--and began to take off her boots. The little cell seemed +to her charming. The narrow little room, some seven feet by nine, was as +clean as glass. There was nothing in it but the bench on which she +was sitting, the book-shelf above it, and a lectern in the corner. +A sheepskin coat and a cassock hung on nails by the door. Above the +lectern was the little lamp and an icon of Christ in His crown of +thorns. The room smelt strangely of perspiration and of earth. It all +pleased her--even that smell. Her wet feet, especially one of them, were +uncomfortable, and she quickly began to take off her boots and stockings +without ceasing to smile, pleased not so much at having achieved her +object as because she perceived that she had abashed that charming, +strange, striking, and attractive man. 'He did not respond, but what of +that?' she said to herself. + +'Father Sergius! Father Sergius! Or how does one call you?' + +'What do you want?' replied a quiet voice. + +'Please forgive me for disturbing your solitude, but really I could not +help it. I should simply have fallen ill. And I don't know that I shan't +now. I am all wet and my feet are like ice.' + +'Pardon me,' replied the quiet voice. 'I cannot be of any assistance to +you.' + +'I would not have disturbed you if I could have helped it. I am only +here till daybreak.' + +He did not reply and she heard him muttering something, probably his +prayers. + +'You will not be coming in here?' she asked, smiling. 'For I must +undress to dry myself.' + +He did not reply, but continued to read his prayers. + +'Yes, that is a man!' thought she, getting her dripping boot off with +difficulty. She tugged at it, but could not get it off. The absurdity of +it struck her and she began to laugh almost inaudibly. But knowing that +he would hear her laughter and would be moved by it just as she wished +him to be, she laughed louder, and her laughter--gay, natural, and +kindly--really acted on him just in the way she wished. + +'Yes, I could love a man like that--such eyes and such a simple noble +face, and passionate too despite all the prayers he mutters!' thought +she. 'You can't deceive a woman in these things. As soon as he put his +face to the window and saw me, he understood and knew. The glimmer of it +was in his eyes and remained there. He began to love me and desired me. +Yes--desired!' said she, getting her overshoe and her boot off at last +and starting to take off her stockings. To remove those long stockings +fastened with elastic it was necessary to raise her skirts. She felt +embarrassed and said: + +'Don't come in!' + +But there was no reply from the other side of the wall. The steady +muttering continued and also a sound of moving. + +'He is prostrating himself to the ground, no doubt,' thought she. +'But he won't bow himself out of it. He is thinking of me just as I +am thinking of him. He is thinking of these feet of mine with the same +feeling that I have!' And she pulled off her wet stockings and put her +feet up on the bench, pressing them under her. She sat a while like that +with her arms round her knees and looking pensively before her. 'But it +is a desert, here in this silence. No one would ever know. . . .' + +She rose, took her stockings over to the stove, and hung them on the +damper. It was a queer damper, and she turned it about, and then, +stepping lightly on her bare feet, returned to the bench and sat down +there again with her feet up. + +There was complete silence on the other side of the partition. She +looked at the tiny watch that hung round her neck. It was two o'clock. +'Our party should return about three!' She had not more than an hour +before her. 'Well, am I to sit like this all alone? What nonsense! I +don't want to. I will call him at once.' + +'Father Sergius, Father Sergius! Sergey Dmitrich! Prince Kasatsky!' + +Beyond the partition all was silent. + +'Listen! This is cruel. I would not call you if it were not necessary. +I am ill. I don't know what is the matter with me!' she exclaimed in a +tone of suffering. 'Oh! Oh!' she groaned, falling back on the bench. And +strange to say she really felt that her strength was failing, that +she was becoming faint, that everything in her ached, and that she was +shivering with fever. + +'Listen! Help me! I don't know what is the matter with me. Oh! Oh!' She +unfastened her dress, exposing her breast, and lifted her arms, bare to +the elbow. 'Oh! Oh!' + +All this time he stood on the other side of the partition and prayed. +Having finished all the evening prayers, he now stood motionless, his +eyes looking at the end of his nose, and mentally repeated with all his +soul: 'Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy upon me!' + +But he had heard everything. He had heard how the silk rustled when she +took off her dress, how she stepped with bare feet on the floor, and had +heard how she rubbed her feet with her hand. He felt his own weakness, +and that he might be lost at any moment. That was why he prayed +unceasingly. He felt rather as the hero in the fairy-tale must have felt +when he had to go on and on without looking round. So Sergius heard and +felt that danger and destruction were there, hovering above and +around him, and that he could only save himself by not looking in that +direction for an instant. But suddenly the desire to look seized him. At +the same instant she said: + +'This is inhuman. I may die. . . .' + +'Yes, I will go to her, but like the Saint who laid one hand on the +adulteress and thrust his other into the brazier. But there is no +brazier here.' He looked round. The lamp! He put his finger over the +flame and frowned, preparing himself to suffer. And for a rather long +time, as it seemed to him, there was no sensation, but suddenly--he +had not yet decided whether it was painful enough--he writhed all over, +jerked his hand away, and waved it in the air. 'No, I can't stand that!' + +'For God's sake come to me! I am dying! Oh!' + +'Well--shall I perish? No, not so!' + +'I will come to you directly,' he said, and having opened his door, he +went without looking at her through the cell into the porch where he +used to chop wood. There he felt for the block and for an axe which +leant against the wall. + +'Immediately!' he said, and taking up the axe with his right hand he +laid the forefinger of his left hand on the block, swung the axe, and +struck with it below the second joint. The finger flew off more lightly +than a stick of similar thickness, and bounding up, turned over on the +edge of the block and then fell to the floor. + +He heard it fall before he felt any pain, but before he had time to be +surprised he felt a burning pain and the warmth of flowing blood. He +hastily wrapped the stump in the skirt of his cassock, and pressing it +to his hip went back into the room, and standing in front of the woman, +lowered his eyes and asked in a low voice: 'What do you want?' + +She looked at his pale face and his quivering left cheek, and suddenly +felt ashamed. She jumped up, seized her fur cloak, and throwing it round +her shoulders, wrapped herself up in it. + +'I was in pain . . . I have caught cold . . . I . . . Father Sergius +. . . I . . .' + +He let his eyes, shining with a quiet light of joy, rest upon her, and +said: + +'Dear sister, why did you wish to ruin your immortal soul? Temptations +must come into the world, but woe to him by whom temptation comes. Pray +that God may forgive us!' + +She listened and looked at him. Suddenly she heard the sound of +something dripping. She looked down and saw that blood was flowing from +his hand and down his cassock. + +'What have you done to your hand?' She remembered the sound she had +heard, and seizing the little lamp ran out into the porch. There on the +floor she saw the bloody finger. She returned with her face paler than +his and was about to speak to him, but he silently passed into the back +cell and fastened the door. + +'Forgive me!' she said. 'How can I atone for my sin?' + +'Go away.' + +'Let me tie up your hand.' + +'Go away from here.' + +She dressed hurriedly and silently, and when ready sat waiting in her +furs. The sledge-bells were heard outside. + +'Father Sergius, forgive me!' + +'Go away. God will forgive.' + +'Father Sergius! I will change my life. Do not forsake me!' + +'Go away.' + +'Forgive me--and give me your blessing!' + +'In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost!'--she +heard his voice from behind the partition. 'Go!' + +She burst into sobs and left the cell. The lawyer came forward to meet +her. + +'Well, I see I have lost the bet. It can't be helped. Where will you +sit?' + +'It is all the same to me.' + +She took a seat in the sledge, and did not utter a word all the way +home. + +A year later she entered a convent as a novice, and lived a strict life +under the direction of the hermit Arseny, who wrote letters to her at +long intervals. + + + +IV + +Father Sergius lived as a recluse for another seven years. + +At first he accepted much of what people brought him--tea, sugar, white +bread, milk, clothing, and fire-wood. But as time went on he led a more +and more austere life, refusing everything superfluous, and finally he +accepted nothing but rye-bread once a week. Everything else that was +brought to him he gave to the poor who came to him. He spent his entire +time in his cell, in prayer or in conversation with callers, who became +more and more numerous as time went on. Only three times a year did +he go out to church, and when necessary he went out to fetch water and +wood. + +The episode with Makovkina had occurred after five years of his hermit +life. That occurrence soon became generally known--her nocturnal visit, +the change she underwent, and her entry into a convent. From that time +Father Sergius's fame increased. More and more visitors came to see him, +other monks settled down near his cell, and a church was erected there +and also a hostelry. His fame, as usual exaggerating his feats, spread +ever more and more widely. People began to come to him from a distance, +and began bringing invalids to him whom they declared he cured. + +His first cure occurred in the eighth year of his life as a hermit. It +was the healing of a fourteen-year-old boy, whose mother brought him +to Father Sergius insisting that he should lay his hand on the child's +head. It had never occurred to Father Sergius that he could cure the +sick. He would have regarded such a thought as a great sin of pride; but +the mother who brought the boy implored him insistently, falling at his +feet and saying: 'Why do you, who heal others, refuse to help my son?' +She besought him in Christ's name. When Father Sergius assured her that +only God could heal the sick, she replied that she only wanted him to +lay his hands on the boy and pray for him. Father Sergius refused and +returned to his cell. But next day (it was in autumn and the nights were +already cold) on going out for water he saw the same mother with her +son, a pale boy of fourteen, and was met by the same petition. + +He remembered the parable of the unjust judge, and though he had +previously felt sure that he ought to refuse, he now began to hesitate +and, having hesitated, took to prayer and prayed until a decision formed +itself in his soul. This decision was, that he ought to accede to the +woman's request and that her faith might save her son. As for himself, +he would in this case be but an insignificant instrument chosen by God. + +And going out to the mother he did what she asked--laid his hand on the +boy's head and prayed. + +The mother left with her son, and a month later the boy recovered, and +the fame of the holy healing power of the starets Sergius (as they now +called him) spread throughout the whole district. After that, not a week +passed without sick people coming, riding or on foot, to Father Sergius; +and having acceded to one petition he could not refuse others, and he +laid his hands on many and prayed. Many recovered, and his fame spread +more and more. + +So seven years passed in the Monastery and thirteen in his hermit's +cell. He now had the appearance of an old man: his beard was long and +grey, but his hair, though thin, was still black and curly. + + + +V + +For some weeks Father Sergius had been living with one persistent +thought: whether he was right in accepting the position in which he had +not so much placed himself as been placed by the Archimandrite and +the Abbot. That position had begun after the recovery of the +fourteen-year-old boy. From that time, with each month, week, and day +that passed, Sergius felt his own inner life wasting away and being +replaced by external life. It was as if he had been turned inside out. + +Sergius saw that he was a means of attracting visitors and contributions +to the monastery, and that therefore the authorities arranged matters in +such a way as to make as much use of him as possible. For instance, they +rendered it impossible for him to do any manual work. He was supplied +with everything he could want, and they only demanded of him that he +should not refuse his blessing to those who came to seek it. For his +convenience they appointed days when he would receive. They arranged a +reception-room for men, and a place was railed in so that he should not +be pushed over by the crowds of women visitors, and so that he could +conveniently bless those who came. + +They told him that people needed him, and that fulfilling Christ's law +of love he could not refuse their demand to see him, and that to avoid +them would be cruel. He could not but agree with this, but the more he +gave himself up to such a life the more he felt that what was internal +became external, and that the fount of living water within him dried +up, and that what he did now was done more and more for men and less and +less for God. + +Whether he admonished people, or simply blessed them, or prayed for the +sick, or advised people about their lives, or listened to expressions of +gratitude from those he had helped by precepts, or alms, or healing (as +they assured him)--he could not help being pleased at it, and could not +be indifferent to the results of his activity and to the influence he +exerted. He thought himself a shining light, and the more he felt this +the more was he conscious of a weakening, a dying down of the divine +light of truth that shone within him. + +'In how far is what I do for God and in how far is it for men?' That was +the question that insistently tormented him and to which he was not so +much unable to give himself an answer as unable to face the answer. + +In the depth of his soul he felt that the devil had substituted an +activity for men in place of his former activity for God. He felt this +because, just as it had formerly been hard for him to be torn from his +solitude so now that solitude itself was hard for him. He was oppressed +and wearied by visitors, but at the bottom of his heart he was glad of +their presence and glad of the praise they heaped upon him. + +There was a time when he decided to go away and hide. He even planned +all that was necessary for that purpose. He prepared for himself a +peasant's shirt, trousers, coat, and cap. He explained that he wanted +these to give to those who asked. And he kept these clothes in his cell, +planning how he would put them on, cut his hair short, and go away. +First he would go some three hundred versts by train, then he would +leave the train and walk from village to village. He asked an old man +who had been a soldier how he tramped: what people gave him, and what +shelter they allowed him. The soldier told him where people were most +charitable, and where they would take a wanderer in for the night, and +Father Sergius intended to avail himself of this information. He even +put on those clothes one night in his desire to go, but he could not +decide what was best--to remain or to escape. At first he was in doubt, +but afterwards this indecision passed. He submitted to custom and +yielded to the devil, and only the peasant garb reminded him of the +thought and feeling he had had. + +Every day more and more people flocked to him and less and less time was +left him for prayer and for renewing his spiritual strength. Sometimes +in lucid moments he thought he was like a place where there had once +been a spring. 'There used to be a feeble spring of living water which +flowed quietly from me and through me. That was true life, the time when +she tempted me!' (He always thought with ecstasy of that night and of +her who was now Mother Agnes.) She had tasted of that pure water, but +since then there had not been time for it to collect before thirsty +people came crowding in and pushing one another aside. And they had +trampled everything down and nothing was left but mud. + +So he thought in rare moments of lucidity, but his usual state of mind +was one of weariness and a tender pity for himself because of that +weariness. + +It was in spring, on the eve of the mid-Pentecostal feast. Father +Sergius was officiating at the Vigil Service in his hermitage church, +where the congregation was as large as the little church could +hold--about twenty people. They were all well-to-do proprietors or +merchants. Father Sergius admitted anyone, but a selection was made by +the monk in attendance and by an assistant who was sent to the hermitage +every day from the monastery. A crowd of some eighty people--pilgrims +and peasants, and especially peasant-women--stood outside waiting for +Father Sergius to come out and bless them. Meanwhile he conducted +the service, but at the point at which he went out to the tomb of his +predecessor, he staggered and would have fallen had he not been caught +by a merchant standing behind him and by the monk acting as deacon. + +'What is the matter, Father Sergius? Dear man! O Lord!' exclaimed the +women. 'He is as white as a sheet!' + +But Father Sergius recovered immediately, and though very pale, he waved +the merchant and the deacon aside and continued to chant the service. + +Father Seraphim, the deacon, the acolytes, and Sofya Ivanovna, a lady +who always lived near the hermitage and tended Father Sergius, begged +him to bring the service to an end. + +'No, there's nothing the matter,' said Father Sergius, slightly smiling +from beneath his moustache and continuing the service. 'Yes, that is the +way the Saints behave!' thought he. + +'A holy man--an angel of God!' he heard just then the voice of Sofya +Ivanovna behind him, and also of the merchant who had supported him. +He did not heed their entreaties, but went on with the service. Again +crowding together they all made their way by the narrow passages back +into the little church, and there, though abbreviating it slightly, +Father Sergius completed vespers. + +Immediately after the service Father Sergius, having pronounced the +benediction on those present, went over to the bench under the elm tree +at the entrance to the cave. He wished to rest and breathe the fresh +air--he felt in need of it. But as soon as he left the church the crowd +of people rushed to him soliciting his blessing, his advice, and his +help. There were pilgrims who constantly tramped from one holy place to +another and from one starets to another, and were always entranced by +every shrine and every starets. Father Sergius knew this common, cold, +conventional, and most irreligious type. There were pilgrims, for +the most part discharged soldiers, unaccustomed to a settled life, +poverty-stricken, and many of them drunken old men, who tramped from +monastery to monastery merely to be fed. And there were rough peasants +and peasant-women who had come with their selfish requirements, seeking +cures or to have doubts about quite practical affairs solved for them: +about marrying off a daughter, or hiring a shop, or buying a bit +of land, or how to atone for having overlaid a child or having an +illegitimate one. + +All this was an old story and not in the least interesting to him. He +knew he would hear nothing new from these folk, that they would arouse +no religious emotion in him; but he liked to see the crowd to which +his blessing and advice was necessary and precious, so while that crowd +oppressed him it also pleased him. Father Seraphim began to drive them +away, saying that Father Sergius was tired. + +But Father Sergius, remembering the words of the Gospel: 'Forbid them' +(children) 'not to come unto me,' and feeling tenderly towards himself +at this recollection, said they should be allowed to approach. + +He rose, went to the railing beyond which the crowd had gathered, and +began blessing them and answering their questions, but in a voice so +weak that he was touched with pity for himself. Yet despite his wish to +receive them all he could not do it. Things again grew dark before his +eyes, and he staggered and grasped the railings. He felt a rush of blood +to his head and first went pale and then suddenly flushed. + +'I must leave the rest till to-morrow. I cannot do more to-day,' +and, pronouncing a general benediction, he returned to the bench. The +merchant again supported him, and leading him by the arm helped him to +be seated. + +'Father!' came voices from the crowd. 'Dear Father! Do not forsake us. +Without you we are lost!' + +The merchant, having seated Father Sergius on the bench under the elm, +took on himself police duties and drove the people off very resolutely. +It is true that he spoke in a low voice so that Father Sergius might not +hear him, but his words were incisive and angry. + +'Be off, be off! He has blessed you, and what more do you want? Get +along with you, or I'll wring your necks! Move on there! Get along, you +old woman with your dirty leg-bands! Go, go! Where are you shoving to? +You've been told that it is finished. To-morrow will be as God wills, +but for to-day he has finished!' + +'Father! Only let my eyes have a glimpse of his dear face!' said an old +woman. + +'I'll glimpse you! Where are you shoving to?' + +Father Sergius noticed that the merchant seemed to be acting roughly, +and in a feeble voice told the attendant that the people should not be +driven away. He knew that they would be driven away all the same, and +he much desired to be left alone and to rest, but he sent the attendant +with that message to produce an impression. + +'All right, all right! I am not driving them away. I am only +remonstrating with them,' replied the merchant. 'You know they wouldn't +hesitate to drive a man to death. They have no pity, they only consider +themselves. . . . You've been told you cannot see him. Go away! +To-morrow!' And he got rid of them all. + +He took all these pains because he liked order and liked to domineer +and drive the people away, but chiefly because he wanted to have Father +Sergius to himself. He was a widower with an only daughter who was an +invalid and unmarried, and whom he had brought fourteen hundred versts +to Father Sergius to be healed. For two years past he had been taking +her to different places to be cured: first to the university clinic in +the chief town of the province, but that did no good; then to a peasant +in the province of Samara, where she got a little better; then to a +doctor in Moscow to whom he paid much money, but this did no good at +all. Now he had been told that Father Sergius wrought cures, and had +brought her to him. So when all the people had been driven away he +approached Father Sergius, and suddenly falling on his knees loudly +exclaimed: + +'Holy Father! Bless my afflicted offspring that she may be healed of her +malady. I venture to prostrate myself at your holy feet.' + +And he placed one hand on the other, cup-wise. He said and did all this +as if he were doing something clearly and firmly appointed by law and +usage--as if one must and should ask for a daughter to be cured in just +this way and no other. He did it with such conviction that it seemed +even to Father Sergius that it should be said and done in just that way, +but nevertheless he bade him rise and tell him what the trouble was. The +merchant said that his daughter, a girl of twenty-two, had fallen ill +two years ago, after her mother's sudden death. She had moaned (as +he expressed it) and since then had not been herself. And now he had +brought her fourteen hundred versts and she was waiting in the hostelry +till Father Sergius should give orders to bring her. She did not go out +during the day, being afraid of the light, and could only come after +sunset. + +'Is she very weak?' asked Father Sergius. + +'No, she has no particular weakness. She is quite plump, and is only +"nerastenic" the doctors say. If you will only let me bring her this +evening, Father Sergius, I'll fly like a spirit to fetch her. Holy +Father! Revive a parent's heart, restore his line, save his afflicted +daughter by your prayers!' And the merchant again threw himself on his +knees and bending sideways, with his head resting on his clenched fists, +remained stock still. Father Sergius again told him to get up, and +thinking how heavy his activities were and how he went through with them +patiently notwithstanding, he sighed heavily and after a few seconds of +silence, said: + +'Well, bring her this evening. I will pray for her, but now I am tired. +. . .' and he closed his eyes. 'I will send for you.' + +The merchant went away, stepping on tiptoe, which only made his boots +creak the louder, and Father Sergius remained alone. + +His whole life was filled by Church services and by people who came +to see him, but to-day had been a particularly difficult one. In +the morning an important official had arrived and had had a long +conversation with him; after that a lady had come with her son. This son +was a sceptical young professor whom the mother, an ardent believer and +devoted to Father Sergius, had brought that he might talk to him. The +conversation had been very trying. The young man, evidently not wishing +to have a controversy with a monk, had agreed with him in everything +as with someone who was mentally inferior. Father Sergius saw that the +young man did not believe but yet was satisfied, tranquil, and at ease, +and the memory of that conversation now disquieted him. + +'Have something to eat, Father,' said the attendant. + +'All right, bring me something.' + +The attendant went to a hut that had been arranged some ten paces from +the cave, and Father Sergius remained alone. + +The time was long past when he had lived alone doing everything for +himself and eating only rye-bread, or rolls prepared for the Church. He +had been advised long since that he had no right to neglect his health, +and he was given wholesome, though Lenten, food. He ate sparingly, +though much more than he had done, and often he ate with much pleasure, +and not as formerly with aversion and a sense of guilt. So it was now. +He had some gruel, drank a cup of tea, and ate half a white roll. + +The attendant went away, and Father Sergius remained alone under the elm +tree. + +It was a wonderful May evening, when the birches, aspens, elms, wild +cherries, and oaks, had just burst into foliage. + +The bush of wild cherries behind the elm tree was in full bloom and had +not yet begun to shed its blossoms, and the nightingales--one quite near +at hand and two or three others in the bushes down by the river--burst +into full song after some preliminary twitters. From the river came the +far-off songs of peasants returning, no doubt, from their work. The sun +was setting behind the forest, its last rays glowing through the leaves. +All that side was brilliant green, the other side with the elm tree was +dark. The cockchafers flew clumsily about, falling to the ground when +they collided with anything. + +After supper Father Sergius began to repeat a silent prayer: 'O Lord +Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy upon us!' and then he read a psalm, +and suddenly in the middle of the psalm a sparrow flew out from the +bush, alighted on the ground, and hopped towards him chirping as it +came, but then it took fright at something and flew away. He said a +prayer which referred to his abandonment of the world, and hastened to +finish it in order to send for the merchant with the sick daughter. She +interested him in that she presented a distraction, and because both she +and her father considered him a saint whose prayers were efficacious. +Outwardly he disavowed that idea, but in the depths of his soul he +considered it to be true. + +He was often amazed that this had happened, that he, Stepan Kasatsky, +had come to be such an extraordinary saint and even a worker of +miracles, but of the fact that he was such there could not be the +least doubt. He could not fail to believe in the miracles he himself +witnessed, beginning with the sick boy and ending with the old woman who +had recovered her sight when he had prayed for her. + +Strange as it might be, it was so. Accordingly the merchant's daughter +interested him as a new individual who had faith in him, and also as a +fresh opportunity to confirm his healing powers and enhance his fame. +'They bring people a thousand versts and write about it in the papers. +The Emperor knows of it, and they know of it in Europe, in unbelieving +Europe'--thought he. And suddenly he felt ashamed of his vanity and +again began to pray. 'Lord, King of Heaven, Comforter, Soul of Truth! +Come and enter into me and cleanse me from all sin and save and bless +my soul. Cleanse me from the sin of worldly vanity that troubles me!' he +repeated, and he remembered how often he had prayed about this and how +vain till now his prayers had been in that respect. His prayers worked +miracles for others, but in his own case God had not granted him +liberation from this petty passion. + +He remembered his prayers at the commencement of his life at the +hermitage, when he prayed for purity, humility, and love, and how it +seemed to him then that God heard his prayers. He had retained his +purity and had chopped off his finger. And he lifted the shrivelled +stump of that finger to his lips and kissed it. It seemed to him now +that he had been humble then when he had always seemed loathsome to +himself on account of his sinfulness; and when he remembered the tender +feelings with which he had then met an old man who was bringing a +drunken soldier to him to ask alms; and how he had received HER, it +seemed to him that he had then possessed love also. But now? And he +asked himself whether he loved anyone, whether he loved Sofya Ivanovna, +or Father Seraphim, whether he had any feeling of love for all who had +come to him that day--for that learned young man with whom he had had +that instructive discussion in which he was concerned only to show off +his own intelligence and that he had not lagged behind the times in +knowledge. He wanted and needed their love, but felt none towards them. +He now had neither love nor humility nor purity. + +He was pleased to know that the merchant's daughter was twenty-two, and +he wondered whether she was good-looking. When he inquired whether she +was weak, he really wanted to know if she had feminine charm. + +'Can I have fallen so low?' he thought. 'Lord, help me! Restore me, my +Lord and God!' And he clasped his hands and began to pray. + +The nightingales burst into song, a cockchafer knocked against him and +crept up the back of his neck. He brushed it off. 'But does He exist? +What if I am knocking at a door fastened from outside? The bar is on the +door for all to see. Nature--the nightingales and the cockchafers--is +that bar. Perhaps the young man was right.' And he began to pray aloud. +He prayed for a long time till these thoughts vanished and he again felt +calm and confident. He rang the bell and told the attendant to say that +the merchant might bring his daughter to him now. + +The merchant came, leading his daughter by the arm. He led her into the +cell and immediately left her. + +She was a very fair girl, plump and very short, with a pale, frightened, +childish face and a much developed feminine figure. Father Sergius +remained seated on the bench at the entrance and when she was passing +and stopped beside him for his blessing he was aghast at himself for +the way he looked at her figure. As she passed by him he was acutely +conscious of her femininity, though he saw by her face that she was +sensual and feeble-minded. He rose and went into the cell. She was +sitting on a stool waiting for him, and when he entered she rose. + +'I want to go back to Papa,' she said. + +'Don't be afraid,' he replied. 'What are you suffering from?' + +'I am in pain all over,' she said, and suddenly her face lit up with a +smile. + +'You will be well,' said he. 'Pray!' + +'What is the use of praying? I have prayed and it does no good'--and she +continued to smile. 'I want you to pray for me and lay your hands on me. +I saw you in a dream.' + +'How did you see me?' + +'I saw you put your hands on my breast like that.' She took his hand and +pressed it to her breast. 'Just here.' + +He yielded his right hand to her. + +'What is your name?' he asked, trembling all over and feeling that he +was overcome and that his desire had already passed beyond control. + +'Marie. Why?' + +She took his hand and kissed it, and then put her arm round his waist +and pressed him to herself. + +'What are you doing?' he said. 'Marie, you are a devil!' + +'Oh, perhaps. What does it matter?' + +And embracing him she sat down with him on the bed. + +At dawn he went out into the porch. + +'Can this all have happened? Her father will come and she will tell him +everything. She is a devil! What am I to do? Here is the axe with which +I chopped off my finger.' He snatched up the axe and moved back towards +the cell. + +The attendant came up. + +'Do you want some wood chopped? Let me have the axe.' + +Sergius yielded up the axe and entered the cell. She was lying +there asleep. He looked at her with horror, and passed on beyond the +partition, where he took down the peasant clothes and put them on. Then +he seized a pair of scissors, cut off his long hair, and went out along +the path down the hill to the river, where he had not been for more than +three years. + +A road ran beside the river and he went along it and walked till noon. +Then he went into a field of rye and lay down there. Towards evening +he approached a village, but without entering it went towards the cliff +that overhung the river. There he again lay down to rest. + +It was early morning, half an hour before sunrise. All was damp and +gloomy and a cold early wind was blowing from the west. 'Yes, I must end +it all. There is no God. But how am I to end it? Throw myself into the +river? I can swim and should not drown. Hang myself? Yes, just throw +this sash over a branch.' This seemed so feasible and so easy that +he felt horrified. As usual at moments of despair he felt the need of +prayer. But there was no one to pray to. There was no God. He lay down +resting on his arm, and suddenly such a longing for sleep overcame him +that he could no longer support his head on his hand, but stretched out +his arm, laid his head upon it, and fell asleep. But that sleep lasted +only for a moment. He woke up immediately and began not to dream but to +remember. + +He saw himself as a child in his mother's home in the country. A +carriage drives up, and out of it steps Uncle Nicholas Sergeevich, +with his long, spade-shaped, black beard, and with him Pashenka, a thin +little girl with large mild eyes and a timid pathetic face. And into +their company of boys Pashenka is brought and they have to play with +her, but it is dull. She is silly, and it ends by their making fun of +her and forcing her to show how she can swim. She lies down on the floor +and shows them, and they all laugh and make a fool of her. She sees this +and blushes red in patches and becomes more pitiable than before, +so pitiable that he feels ashamed and can never forget that crooked, +kindly, submissive smile. And Sergius remembered having seen her since +then. Long after, just before he became a monk, she had married a +landowner who squandered all her fortune and was in the habit of beating +her. She had had two children, a son and a daughter, but the son had +died while still young. And Sergius remembered having seen her very +wretched. Then again he had seen her in the monastery when she was a +widow. She had been still the same, not exactly stupid, but insipid, +insignificant, and pitiable. She had come with her daughter and her +daughter's fiance. They were already poor at that time and later on he +had heard that she was living in a small provincial town and was very +poor. + +'Why am I thinking about her?' he asked himself, but he could not cease +doing so. 'Where is she? How is she getting on? Is she still as unhappy +as she was then when she had to show us how to swim on the floor? But +why should I think about her? What am I doing? I must put an end to +myself.' + +And again he felt afraid, and again, to escape from that thought, he +went on thinking about Pashenka. + +So he lay for a long time, thinking now of his unavoidable end and now +of Pashenka. She presented herself to him as a means of salvation. At +last he fell asleep, and in his sleep he saw an angel who came to him +and said: 'Go to Pashenka and learn from her what you have to do, what +your sin is, and wherein lies your salvation.' + +He awoke, and having decided that this was a vision sent by God, he felt +glad, and resolved to do what had been told him in the vision. He knew +the town where she lived. It was some three hundred versts (two hundred +miles) away, and he set out to walk there. + + + +VI + +Pashenka had already long ceased to be Pashenka and had become old, +withered, wrinkled Praskovya Mikhaylovna, mother-in-law of that failure, +the drunken official Mavrikyev. She was living in the country town +where he had had his last appointment, and there she was supporting the +family: her daughter, her ailing neurasthenic son-in-law, and her five +grandchildren. She did this by giving music lessons to tradesmen's +daughters, giving four and sometimes five lessons a day of an hour each, +and earning in this way some sixty rubles (6 pounds) a month. So they +lived for the present, in expectation of another appointment. She had +sent letters to all her relations and acquaintances asking them to +obtain a post for her son-in-law, and among the rest she had written to +Sergius, but that letter had not reached him. + +It was a Saturday, and Praskovya Mikhaylovna was herself mixing dough +for currant bread such as the serf-cook on her father's estate used +to make so well. She wished to give her grandchildren a treat on the +Sunday. + +Masha, her daughter, was nursing her youngest child, the eldest boy and +girl were at school, and her son-in-law was asleep, not having slept +during the night. Praskovya Mikhaylovna had remained awake too for a +great part of the night, trying to soften her daughter's anger against +her husband. + +She saw that it was impossible for her son-in-law, a weak creature, to +be other than he was, and realized that his wife's reproaches could do +no good--so she used all her efforts to soften those reproaches and to +avoid recrimination and anger. Unkindly relations between people caused +her actual physical suffering. It was so clear to her that bitter +feelings do not make anything better, but only make everything worse. +She did not in fact think about this: she simply suffered at the sight +of anger as she would from a bad smell, a harsh noise, or from blows on +her body. + +She had--with a feeling of self-satisfaction--just taught Lukerya how +to mix the dough, when her six-year-old grandson Misha, wearing an +apron and with darned stockings on his crooked little legs, ran into the +kitchen with a frightened face. + +'Grandma, a dreadful old man wants to see you.' + +Lukerya looked out at the door. + +'There is a pilgrim of some kind, a man . . .' + +Praskovya Mikhaylovna rubbed her thin elbows against one another, wiped +her hands on her apron and went upstairs to get a five-kopek piece +[about a penny] out of her purse for him, but remembering that she had +nothing less than a ten-kopek piece she decided to give him some bread +instead. She returned to the cupboard, but suddenly blushed at the +thought of having grudged the ten-kopek piece, and telling Lukerya to +cut a slice of bread, went upstairs again to fetch it. 'It serves you +right,' she said to herself. 'You must now give twice over.' + +She gave both the bread and the money to the pilgrim, and when doing +so--far from being proud of her generosity--she excused herself for +giving so little. The man had such an imposing appearance. + +Though he had tramped two hundred versts as a beggar, though he was +tattered and had grown thin and weatherbeaten, though he had cropped his +long hair and was wearing a peasant's cap and boots, and though he bowed +very humbly, Sergius still had the impressive appearance that made him +so attractive. But Praskovya Mikhaylovna did not recognize him. She +could hardly do so, not having seen him for almost twenty years. + +'Don't think ill of me, Father. Perhaps you want something to eat?' + +He took the bread and the money, and Praskovya Mikhaylovna was surprised +that he did not go, but stood looking at her. + +'Pashenka, I have come to you! Take me in . . .' + +His beautiful black eyes, shining with the tears that started in them, +were fixed on her with imploring insistence. And under his greyish +moustache his lips quivered piteously. + +Praskovya Mikhaylovna pressed her hands to her withered breast, opened +her mouth, and stood petrified, staring at the pilgrim with dilated +eyes. + +'It can't be! Stepa! Sergey! Father Sergius!' + +'Yes, it is I,' said Sergius in a low voice. 'Only not Sergius, or +Father Sergius, but a great sinner, Stepan Kasatsky--a great and lost +sinner. Take me in and help me!' + +'It's impossible! How have you so humbled yourself? But come in.' + +She reached out her hand, but he did not take it and only followed her +in. + +But where was she to take him? The lodging was a small one. Formerly +she had had a tiny room, almost a closet, for herself, but later she had +given it up to her daughter, and Masha was now sitting there rocking the +baby. + +'Sit here for the present,' she said to Sergius, pointing to a bench in +the kitchen. + +He sat down at once, and with an evidently accustomed movement slipped +the straps of his wallet first off one shoulder and then off the other. + +'My God, my God! How you have humbled yourself, Father! Such great fame, +and now like this . . .' + +Sergius did not reply, but only smiled meekly, placing his wallet under +the bench on which he sat. + +'Masha, do you know who this is?'--And in a whisper Praskovya +Mikhaylovna told her daughter who he was, and together they then carried +the bed and the cradle out of the tiny room and cleared it for Sergius. + +Praskovya Mikhaylovna led him into it. + +'Here you can rest. Don't take offence . . . but I must go out.' + +'Where to?' + +'I have to go to a lesson. I am ashamed to tell you, but I teach music!' + +'Music? But that is good. Only just one thing, Praskovya Mikhaylovna, +I have come to you with a definite object. When can I have a talk with +you?' + +'I shall be very glad. Will this evening do?' + +'Yes. But one thing more. Don't speak about me, or say who I am. I have +revealed myself only to you. No one knows where I have gone to. It must +be so.' + +'Oh, but I have told my daughter.' + +'Well, ask her not to mention it.' + +And Sergius took off his boots, lay down, and at once fell asleep after +a sleepless night and a walk of nearly thirty miles. + +When Praskovya Mikhaylovna returned, Sergius was sitting in the little +room waiting for her. He did not come out for dinner, but had some soup +and gruel which Lukerya brought him. + +'How is it that you have come back earlier than you said?' asked +Sergius. 'Can I speak to you now?' + +'How is it that I have the happiness to receive such a guest? I have +missed one of my lessons. That can wait . . . I had always been planning +to go to see you. I wrote to you, and now this good fortune has come.' + +'Pashenka, please listen to what I am going to tell you as to a +confession made to God at my last hour. Pashenka, I am not a holy man, +I am not even as good as a simple ordinary man; I am a loathsome, +vile, and proud sinner who has gone astray, and who, if not worse than +everyone else, is at least worse than most very bad people.' + +Pashenka looked at him at first with staring eyes. But she believed what +he said, and when she had quite grasped it she touched his hand, smiling +pityingly, and said: + +'Perhaps you exaggerate, Stiva?' + +'No, Pashenka. I am an adulterer, a murderer, a blasphemer, and a +deceiver.' + +'My God! How is that?' exclaimed Praskovya Mikhaylovna. + +'But I must go on living. And I, who thought I knew everything, who +taught others how to live--I know nothing and ask you to teach me.' + +'What are you saying, Stiva? You are laughing at me. Why do you always +make fun of me?' + +'Well, if you think I am jesting you must have it as you please. But +tell me all the same how you live, and how you have lived your life.' + +'I? I have lived a very nasty, horrible life, and now God is punishing +me as I deserve. I live so wretchedly, so wretchedly . . .' + +'How was it with your marriage? How did you live with your husband?' + +'It was all bad. I married because I fell in love in the nastiest way. +Papa did not approve. But I would not listen to anything and just +got married. Then instead of helping my husband I tormented him by my +jealousy, which I could not restrain.' + +'I heard that he drank . . .' + +'Yes, but I did not give him any peace. I always reproached him, though +you know it is a disease! He could not refrain from it. I now remember +how I tried to prevent his having it, and the frightful scenes we had!' + +And she looked at Kasatsky with beautiful eyes, suffering from the +remembrance. + +Kasatsky remembered how he had been told that Pashenka's husband used +to beat her, and now, looking at her thin withered neck with prominent +veins behind her ears, and her scanty coil of hair, half grey half +auburn, he seemed to see just how it had occurred. + +'Then I was left with two children and no means at all.' + +'But you had an estate!' + +'Oh, we sold that while Vasya was still alive, and the money was all +spent. We had to live, and like all our young ladies I did not know how +to earn anything. I was particularly useless and helpless. So we spent +all we had. I taught the children and improved my own education a +little. And then Mitya fell ill when he was already in the fourth +form, and God took him. Masha fell in love with Vanya, my son-in-law. +And--well, he is well-meaning but unfortunate. He is ill.' + +'Mamma!'--her daughter's voice interrupted her--'Take Mitya! I can't be +in two places at once.' + +Praskovya Mikhaylovna shuddered, but rose and went out of the room, +stepping quickly in her patched shoes. She soon came back with a boy of +two in her arms, who threw himself backwards and grabbed at her shawl +with his little hands. + +'Where was I? Oh yes, he had a good appointment here, and his chief +was a kind man too. But Vanya could not go on, and had to give up his +position.' + +'What is the matter with him?' + +'Neurasthenia--it is a dreadful complaint. We consulted a doctor, who +told us he ought to go away, but we had no means. . . . I always hope it +will pass of itself. He has no particular pain, but . . .' + +'Lukerya!' cried an angry and feeble voice. 'She is always sent away +when I want her. Mamma . . .' + +'I'm coming!' Praskovya Mikhaylovna again interrupted herself. 'He has +not had his dinner yet. He can't eat with us.' + +She went out and arranged something, and came back wiping her thin dark +hands. + +'So that is how I live. I always complain and am always dissatisfied, +but thank God the grandchildren are all nice and healthy, and we can +still live. But why talk about me?' + +'But what do you live on?' + +'Well, I earn a little. How I used to dislike music, but how useful it +is to me now!' Her small hand lay on the chest of drawers beside which +she was sitting, and she drummed an exercise with her thin fingers. + +'How much do you get for a lesson?' + +'Sometimes a ruble, sometimes fifty kopeks, or sometimes thirty. They +are all so kind to me.' + +'And do your pupils get on well?' asked Kasatsky with a slight smile. + +Praskovya Mikhaylovna did not at first believe that he was asking +seriously, and looked inquiringly into his eyes. + +'Some of them do. One of them is a splendid girl--the butcher's +daughter--such a good kind girl! If I were a clever woman I ought, of +course, with the connexions Papa had, to be able to get an appointment +for my son-in-law. But as it is I have not been able to do anything, and +have brought them all to this--as you see.' + +'Yes, yes,' said Kasatsky, lowering his head. 'And how is it, +Pashenka--do you take part in Church life?' + +'Oh, don't speak of it. I am so bad that way, and have neglected it so! +I keep the fasts with the children and sometimes go to church, and then +again sometimes I don't go for months. I only send the children.' + +'But why don't you go yourself?' + +'To tell the truth' (she blushed) 'I am ashamed, for my daughter's +sake and the children's, to go there in tattered clothes, and I haven't +anything else. Besides, I am just lazy.' + +'And do you pray at home?' + +'I do. But what sort of prayer is it? Only mechanical. I know it should +not be like that, but I lack real religious feeling. The only thing is +that I know how bad I am . . .' + +'Yes, yes, that's right!' said Kasatsky, as if approvingly. + +'I'm coming! I'm coming!' she replied to a call from her son-in-law, and +tidying her scanty plait she left the room. + +But this time it was long before she returned. When she came back, +Kasatsky was sitting in the same position, his elbows resting on his +knees and his head bowed. But his wallet was strapped on his back. + +When she came in, carrying a small tin lamp without a shade, he raised +his fine weary eyes and sighed very deeply. + +'I did not tell them who you are,' she began timidly. 'I only said that +you are a pilgrim, a nobleman, and that I used to know you. Come into +the dining-room for tea.' + +'No . . .' + +'Well then, I'll bring some to you here.' + +'No, I don't want anything. God bless you, Pashenka! I am going now. If +you pity me, don't tell anyone that you have seen me. For the love of +God don't tell anyone. Thank you. I would bow to your feet but I know +it would make you feel awkward. Thank you, and forgive me for Christ's +sake!' + +'Give me your blessing.' + +'God bless you! Forgive me for Christ's sake!' + +He rose, but she would not let him go until she had given him bread and +butter and rusks. He took it all and went away. + +It was dark, and before he had passed the second house he was lost to +sight. She only knew he was there because the dog at the priest's house +was barking. + +'So that is what my dream meant! Pashenka is what I ought to have been +but failed to be. I lived for men on the pretext of living for God, +while she lived for God imagining that she lives for men. Yes, one good +deed--a cup of water given without thought of reward--is worth more +than any benefit I imagined I was bestowing on people. But after all was +there not some share of sincere desire to serve God?' he asked himself, +and the answer was: 'Yes, there was, but it was all soiled and overgrown +by desire for human praise. Yes, there is no God for the man who lives, +as I did, for human praise. I will now seek Him!' + +And he walked from village to village as he had done on his way to +Pashenka, meeting and parting from other pilgrims, men and women, and +asking for bread and a night's rest in Christ's name. Occasionally some +angry housewife scolded him, or a drunken peasant reviled him, but for +the most part he was given food and drink and even something to take +with him. His noble bearing disposed some people in his favour, while +others on the contrary seemed pleased at the sight of a gentleman who +had come to beggary. + +But his gentleness prevailed with everyone. + +Often, finding a copy of the Gospels in a hut he would read it aloud, +and when they heard him the people were always touched and surprised, as +at something new yet familiar. + +When he succeeded in helping people, either by advice, or by his +knowledge of reading and writing, or by settling some quarrel, he did +not wait to see their gratitude but went away directly afterwards. And +little by little God began to reveal Himself within him. + +Once he was walking along with two old women and a soldier. They were +stopped by a party consisting of a lady and gentleman in a gig and +another lady and gentleman on horseback. The husband was on horseback +with his daughter, while in the gig his wife was driving with a +Frenchman, evidently a traveller. + +The party stopped to let the Frenchman see the pilgrims who, in accord +with a popular Russian superstition, tramped about from place to place +instead of working. + +They spoke French, thinking that the others would not understand them. + +'Demandez-leur,' said the Frenchman, 's'ils sont bien sur de ce que leur +pelerinage est agreable a Dieu.' + +The question was asked, and one old woman replied: + +'As God takes it. Our feet have reached the holy places, but our hearts +may not have done so.' + +They asked the soldier. He said that he was alone in the world and had +nowhere else to go. + +They asked Kasatsky who he was. + +'A servant of God.' + +'Qu'est-ce qu'il dit? Il ne repond pas.' + +'Il dit qu'il est un serviteur de Dieu. Cela doit etre un fils de +preetre. Il a de la race. Avez-vous de la petite monnaie?' + +The Frenchman found some small change and gave twenty kopeks to each of +the pilgrims. + +'Mais dites-leur que ce n'est pas pour les cierges que je leur donne, +mais pour qu'ils se regalent de the. Chay, chay pour vous, mon vieux!' +he said with a smile. And he patted Kasatsky on the shoulder with his +gloved hand. + +'May Christ bless you,' replied Kasatsky without replacing his cap and +bowing his bald head. + +He rejoiced particularly at this meeting, because he had disregarded the +opinion of men and had done the simplest, easiest thing--humbly accepted +twenty kopeks and given them to his comrade, a blind beggar. The less +importance he attached to the opinion of men the more did he feel the +presence of God within him. + +For eight months Kasatsky tramped on in this manner, and in the ninth +month he was arrested for not having a passport. This happened at a +night-refuge in a provincial town where he had passed the night with +some pilgrims. He was taken to the police-station, and when asked who he +was and where was his passport, he replied that he had no passport and +that he was a servant of God. He was classed as a tramp, sentenced, and +sent to live in Siberia. + +In Siberia he has settled down as the hired man of a well-to-do peasant, +in which capacity he works in the kitchen-garden, teaches children, and +attends to the sick. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Father Sergius, by Leo Tolstoy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FATHER SERGIUS *** + +***** This file should be named 985.txt or 985.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/8/985/ + +Produced by Judith Boss + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Master and Man + +Author: Leo Tolstoy + +Translator: Louise and Aylmer Maude + +Release Date: February 5, 2006 [EBook #986] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASTER AND MAN *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + + + + + +MASTER AND MAN + +by Leo Tolstoy + + +Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude + + + + +I + +It happened in the 'seventies in winter, on the day after St. Nicholas's +Day. There was a fete in the parish and the innkeeper, Vasili Andreevich +Brekhunov, a Second Guild merchant, being a church elder had to go to +church, and had also to entertain his relatives and friends at home. + +But when the last of them had gone he at once began to prepare to drive +over to see a neighbouring proprietor about a grove which he had been +bargaining over for a long time. He was now in a hurry to start, +lest buyers from the town might forestall him in making a profitable +purchase. + +The youthful landowner was asking ten thousand rubles for the grove +simply because Vasili Andreevich was offering seven thousand. Seven +thousand was, however, only a third of its real value. Vasili Andreevich +might perhaps have got it down to his own price, for the woods were in +his district and he had a long-standing agreement with the other village +dealers that no one should run up the price in another's district, but +he had now learnt that some timber-dealers from town meant to bid for +the Goryachkin grove, and he resolved to go at once and get the matter +settled. So as soon as the feast was over, he took seven hundred rubles +from his strong box, added to them two thousand three hundred rubles of +church money he had in his keeping, so as to make up the sum to three +thousand; carefully counted the notes, and having put them into his +pocket-book made haste to start. + +Nikita, the only one of Vasili Andreevich's labourers who was not drunk +that day, ran to harness the horse. Nikita, though an habitual drunkard, +was not drunk that day because since the last day before the fast, when +he had drunk his coat and leather boots, he had sworn off drink and +had kept his vow for two months, and was still keeping it despite the +temptation of the vodka that had been drunk everywhere during the first +two days of the feast. + +Nikita was a peasant of about fifty from a neighbouring village, 'not +a manager' as the peasants said of him, meaning that he was not the +thrifty head of a household but lived most of his time away from home +as a labourer. He was valued everywhere for his industry, dexterity, and +strength at work, and still more for his kindly and pleasant temper. But +he never settled down anywhere for long because about twice a year, or +even oftener, he had a drinking bout, and then besides spending all his +clothes on drink he became turbulent and quarrelsome. Vasili Andreevich +himself had turned him away several times, but had afterwards taken him +back again--valuing his honesty, his kindness to animals, and especially +his cheapness. Vasili Andreevich did not pay Nikita the eighty rubles +a year such a man was worth, but only about forty, which he gave him +haphazard, in small sums, and even that mostly not in cash but in goods +from his own shop and at high prices. + +Nikita's wife Martha, who had once been a handsome vigorous woman, +managed the homestead with the help of her son and two daughters, and +did not urge Nikita to live at home: first because she had been living +for some twenty years already with a cooper, a peasant from another +village who lodged in their house; and secondly because though she +managed her husband as she pleased when he was sober, she feared him +like fire when he was drunk. Once when he had got drunk at home, Nikita, +probably to make up for his submissiveness when sober, broke open her +box, took out her best clothes, snatched up an axe, and chopped all her +undergarments and dresses to bits. All the wages Nikita earned went to +his wife, and he raised no objection to that. So now, two days before +the holiday, Martha had been twice to see Vasili Andreevich and had got +from him wheat flour, tea, sugar, and a quart of vodka, the lot costing +three rubles, and also five rubles in cash, for which she thanked him as +for a special favour, though he owed Nikita at least twenty rubles. + +'What agreement did we ever draw up with you?' said Vasili Andreevich +to Nikita. 'If you need anything, take it; you will work it off. I'm not +like others to keep you waiting, and making up accounts and reckoning +fines. We deal straight-forwardly. You serve me and I don't neglect +you.' + +And when saying this Vasili Andreevich was honestly convinced that he +was Nikita's benefactor, and he knew how to put it so plausibly that +all those who depended on him for their money, beginning with Nikita, +confirmed him in the conviction that he was their benefactor and did not +overreach them. + +'Yes, I understand, Vasili Andreevich. You know that I serve you and +take as much pains as I would for my own father. I understand very +well!' Nikita would reply. He was quite aware that Vasili Andreevich was +cheating him, but at the same time he felt that it was useless to try +to clear up his accounts with him or explain his side of the matter, and +that as long as he had nowhere to go he must accept what he could get. + +Now, having heard his master's order to harness, he went as usual +cheerfully and willingly to the shed, stepping briskly and easily on his +rather turned-in feet; took down from a nail the heavy tasselled leather +bridle, and jingling the rings of the bit went to the closed stable +where the horse he was to harness was standing by himself. + +'What, feeling lonely, feeling lonely, little silly?' said Nikita in +answer to the low whinny with which he was greeted by the good-tempered, +medium-sized bay stallion, with a rather slanting crupper, who stood +alone in the shed. 'Now then, now then, there's time enough. Let me +water you first,' he went on, speaking to the horse just as to someone +who understood the words he was using, and having whisked the dusty, +grooved back of the well-fed young stallion with the skirt of his +coat, he put a bridle on his handsome head, straightened his ears and +forelock, and having taken off his halter led him out to water. + +Picking his way out of the dung-strewn stable, Mukhorty frisked, and +making play with his hind leg pretended that he meant to kick Nikita, +who was running at a trot beside him to the pump. + +'Now then, now then, you rascal!' Nikita called out, well knowing how +carefully Mukhorty threw out his hind leg just to touch his greasy +sheepskin coat but not to strike him--a trick Nikita much appreciated. + +After a drink of the cold water the horse sighed, moving his strong wet +lips, from the hairs of which transparent drops fell into the trough; +then standing still as if in thought, he suddenly gave a loud snort. + +'If you don't want any more, you needn't. But don't go asking for any +later,' said Nikita quite seriously and fully explaining his conduct to +Mukhorty. Then he ran back to the shed pulling the playful young horse, +who wanted to gambol all over the yard, by the rein. + +There was no one else in the yard except a stranger, the cook's husband, +who had come for the holiday. + +'Go and ask which sledge is to be harnessed--the wide one or the small +one--there's a good fellow!' + +The cook's husband went into the house, which stood on an iron +foundation and was iron-roofed, and soon returned saying that the little +one was to be harnessed. By that time Nikita had put the collar and +brass-studded belly-band on Mukhorty and, carrying a light, painted +shaft-bow in one hand, was leading the horse with the other up to two +sledges that stood in the shed. + +'All right, let it be the little one!' he said, backing the intelligent +horse, which all the time kept pretending to bite him, into the shafts, +and with the aid of the cook's husband he proceeded to harness. When +everything was nearly ready and only the reins had to be adjusted, +Nikita sent the other man to the shed for some straw and to the barn for +a drugget. + +'There, that's all right! Now, now, don't bristle up!' said Nikita, +pressing down into the sledge the freshly threshed oat straw the cook's +husband had brought. 'And now let's spread the sacking like this, and +the drugget over it. There, like that it will be comfortable sitting,' +he went on, suiting the action to the words and tucking the drugget all +round over the straw to make a seat. + +'Thank you, dear man. Things always go quicker with two working at it!' +he added. And gathering up the leather reins fastened together by a +brass ring, Nikita took the driver's seat and started the impatient +horse over the frozen manure which lay in the yard, towards the gate. + +'Uncle Nikita! I say, Uncle, Uncle!' a high-pitched voice shouted, and a +seven-year-old boy in a black sheepskin coat, new white felt boots, and +a warm cap, ran hurriedly out of the house into the yard. 'Take me with +you!' he cried, fastening up his coat as he ran. + +'All right, come along, darling!' said Nikita, and stopping the sledge +he picked up the master's pale thin little son, radiant with joy, and +drove out into the road. + +It was past two o'clock and the day was windy, dull, and cold, with more +than twenty degrees Fahrenheit of frost. Half the sky was hidden by a +lowering dark cloud. In the yard it was quiet, but in the street the +wind was felt more keenly. The snow swept down from a neighbouring shed +and whirled about in the corner near the bath-house. + +Hardly had Nikita driven out of the yard and turned the horse's head to +the house, before Vasili Andreevich emerged from the high porch in front +of the house with a cigarette in his mouth and wearing a cloth-covered +sheep-skin coat tightly girdled low at his waist, and stepped onto the +hard-trodden snow which squeaked under the leather soles of his felt +boots, and stopped. Taking a last whiff of his cigarette he threw it +down, stepped on it, and letting the smoke escape through his moustache +and looking askance at the horse that was coming up, began to tuck +in his sheepskin collar on both sides of his ruddy face, clean-shaven +except for the moustache, so that his breath should not moisten the +collar. + +'See now! The young scamp is there already!' he exclaimed when he saw +his little son in the sledge. Vasili Andreevich was excited by the vodka +he had drunk with his visitors, and so he was even more pleased than +usual with everything that was his and all that he did. The sight of +his son, whom he always thought of as his heir, now gave him great +satisfaction. He looked at him, screwing up his eyes and showing his +long teeth. + +His wife--pregnant, thin and pale, with her head and shoulders wrapped +in a shawl so that nothing of her face could be seen but her eyes--stood +behind him in the vestibule to see him off. + +'Now really, you ought to take Nikita with you,' she said timidly, +stepping out from the doorway. + +Vasili Andreevich did not answer. Her words evidently annoyed him and he +frowned angrily and spat. + +'You have money on you,' she continued in the same plaintive voice. +'What if the weather gets worse! Do take him, for goodness' sake!' + +'Why? Don't I know the road that I must needs take a guide?' exclaimed +Vasili Andreevich, uttering every word very distinctly and compressing +his lips unnaturally, as he usually did when speaking to buyers and +sellers. + +'Really you ought to take him. I beg you in God's name!' his wife +repeated, wrapping her shawl more closely round her head. + +'There, she sticks to it like a leech! . . . Where am I to take him?' + +'I'm quite ready to go with you, Vasili Andreevich,' said Nikita +cheerfully. 'But they must feed the horses while I am away,' he added, +turning to his master's wife. + +'I'll look after them, Nikita dear. I'll tell Simon,' replied the +mistress. + +'Well, Vasili Andreevich, am I to come with you?' said Nikita, awaiting +a decision. + +'It seems I must humour my old woman. But if you're coming you'd better +put on a warmer cloak,' said Vasili Andreevich, smiling again as he +winked at Nikita's short sheepskin coat, which was torn under the arms +and at the back, was greasy and out of shape, frayed to a fringe round +the skirt, and had endured many things in its lifetime. + +'Hey, dear man, come and hold the horse!' shouted Nikita to the cook's +husband, who was still in the yard. + +'No, I will myself, I will myself!' shrieked the little boy, pulling his +hands, red with cold, out of his pockets, and seizing the cold leather +reins. + +'Only don't be too long dressing yourself up. Look alive!' shouted +Vasili Andreevich, grinning at Nikita. + +'Only a moment, Father, Vasili Andreevich!' replied Nikita, and running +quickly with his inturned toes in his felt boots with their soles +patched with felt, he hurried across the yard and into the workmen's +hut. + +'Arinushka! Get my coat down from the stove. I'm going with the master,' +he said, as he ran into the hut and took down his girdle from the nail +on which it hung. + +The workmen's cook, who had had a sleep after dinner and was now getting +the samovar ready for her husband, turned cheerfully to Nikita, and +infected by his hurry began to move as quickly as he did, got down his +miserable worn-out cloth coat from the stove where it was drying, and +began hurriedly shaking it out and smoothing it down. + +'There now, you'll have a chance of a holiday with your good man,' said +Nikita, who from kindhearted politeness always said something to anyone +he was alone with. + +Then, drawing his worn narrow girdle round him, he drew in his breath, +pulling in his lean stomach still more, and girdled himself as tightly +as he could over his sheepskin. + +'There now,' he said addressing himself no longer to the cook but the +girdle, as he tucked the ends in at the waist, 'now you won't come +undone!' And working his shoulders up and down to free his arms, he put +the coat over his sheepskin, arched his back more strongly to ease his +arms, poked himself under the armpits, and took down his leather-covered +mittens from the shelf. 'Now we're all right!' + +'You ought to wrap your feet up, Nikita. Your boots are very bad.' + +Nikita stopped as if he had suddenly realized this. + +'Yes, I ought to. . . . But they'll do like this. It isn't far!' and he +ran out into the yard. + +'Won't you be cold, Nikita?' said the mistress as he came up to the +sledge. + +'Cold? No, I'm quite warm,' answered Nikita as he pushed some straw +up to the forepart of the sledge so that it should cover his feet, and +stowed away the whip, which the good horse would not need, at the bottom +of the sledge. + +Vasili Andreevich, who was wearing two fur-lined coats one over the +other, was already in the sledge, his broad back filling nearly its +whole rounded width, and taking the reins he immediately touched the +horse. Nikita jumped in just as the sledge started, and seated himself +in front on the left side, with one leg hanging over the edge. + + + +II + +The good stallion took the sledge along at a brisk pace over the +smooth-frozen road through the village, the runners squeaking slightly +as they went. + +'Look at him hanging on there! Hand me the whip, Nikita!' shouted Vasili +Andreevich, evidently enjoying the sight of his 'heir,' who standing on +the runners was hanging on at the back of the sledge. 'I'll give it you! +Be off to mamma, you dog!' + +The boy jumped down. The horse increased his amble and, suddenly +changing foot, broke into a fast trot. + +The Crosses, the village where Vasili Andreevich lived, consisted of six +houses. As soon as they had passed the blacksmith's hut, the last in +the village, they realized that the wind was much stronger than they +had thought. The road could hardly be seen. The tracks left by the +sledge-runners were immediately covered by snow and the road was only +distinguished by the fact that it was higher than the rest of the +ground. There was a swirl of snow over the fields and the line where sky +and earth met could not be seen. The Telyatin forest, usually clearly +visible, now only loomed up occasionally and dimly through the driving +snowy dust. The wind came from the left, insistently blowing over to +one side the mane on Mukhorty's sleek neck and carrying aside even his +fluffy tail, which was tied in a simple knot. Nikita's wide coat-collar, +as he sat on the windy side, pressed close to his cheek and nose. + +'This road doesn't give him a chance--it's too snowy,' said Vasili +Andreevich, who prided himself on his good horse. 'I once drove to +Pashutino with him in half an hour.' + +'What?' asked Nikita, who could not hear on account of his collar. + +'I say I once went to Pashutino in half an hour,' shouted Vasili +Andreevich. + +'It goes without saying that he's a good horse,' replied Nikita. + +They were silent for a while. But Vasili Andreevich wished to talk. + +'Well, did you tell your wife not to give the cooper any vodka?' he +began in the same loud tone, quite convinced that Nikita must feel +flattered to be talking with so clever and important a person as +himself, and he was so pleased with his jest that it did not enter his +head that the remark might be unpleasant to Nikita. + +The wind again prevented Nikita's hearing his master's words. + +Vasili Andreevich repeated the jest about the cooper in his loud, clear +voice. + +'That's their business, Vasili Andreevich. I don't pry into their +affairs. As long as she doesn't ill-treat our boy--God be with them.' + +'That's so,' said Vasili Andreevich. 'Well, and will you be buying a +horse in spring?' he went on, changing the subject. + +'Yes, I can't avoid it,' answered Nikita, turning down his collar and +leaning back towards his master. + +The conversation now became interesting to him and he did not wish to +lose a word. + +'The lad's growing up. He must begin to plough for himself, but till now +we've always had to hire someone,' he said. + +'Well, why not have the lean-cruppered one. I won't charge much for it,' +shouted Vasili Andreevich, feeling animated, and consequently starting +on his favourite occupation--that of horse-dealing--which absorbed all +his mental powers. + +'Or you might let me have fifteen rubles and I'll buy one at the +horse-market,' said Nikita, who knew that the horse Vasili Andreevich +wanted to sell him would be dear at seven rubles, but that if he took it +from him it would be charged at twenty-five, and then he would be unable +to draw any money for half a year. + +'It's a good horse. I think of your interest as of my own--according to +conscience. Brekhunov isn't a man to wrong anyone. Let the loss be mine. +I'm not like others. Honestly!' he shouted in the voice in which he +hypnotized his customers and dealers. 'It's a real good horse.' + +'Quite so!' said Nikita with a sigh, and convinced that there was +nothing more to listen to, he again released his collar, which +immediately covered his ear and face. + +They drove on in silence for about half an hour. The wind blew sharply +onto Nikita's side and arm where his sheepskin was torn. + +He huddled up and breathed into the collar which covered his mouth, and +was not wholly cold. + +'What do you think--shall we go through Karamyshevo or by the straight +road?' asked Vasili Andreevich. + +The road through Karamyshevo was more frequented and was well marked +with a double row of high stakes. The straight road was nearer but +little used and had no stakes, or only poor ones covered with snow. + +Nikita thought awhile. + +'Though Karamyshevo is farther, it is better going,' he said. + +'But by the straight road, when once we get through the hollow by the +forest, it's good going--sheltered,' said Vasili Andreevich, who wished +to go the nearest way. + +'Just as you please,' said Nikita, and again let go of his collar. + +Vasili Andreevich did as he had said, and having gone about half a verst +came to a tall oak stake which had a few dry leaves still dangling on +it, and there he turned to the left. + +On turning they faced directly against the wind, and snow was beginning +to fall. Vasili Andreevich, who was driving, inflated his cheeks, +blowing the breath out through his moustache. Nikita dozed. + +So they went on in silence for about ten minutes. Suddenly Vasili +Andreevich began saying something. + +'Eh, what?' asked Nikita, opening his eyes. + +Vasili Andreevich did not answer, but bent over, looking behind them and +then ahead of the horse. The sweat had curled Mukhorty's coat between +his legs and on his neck. He went at a walk. + +'What is it?' Nikita asked again. + +'What is it? What is it?' Vasili Andreevich mimicked him angrily. 'There +are no stakes to be seen! We must have got off the road!' + +'Well, pull up then, and I'll look for it,' said Nikita, and jumping +down lightly from the sledge and taking the whip from under the straw, +he went off to the left from his own side of the sledge. + +The snow was not deep that year, so that it was possible to walk +anywhere, but still in places it was knee-deep and got into Nikita's +boots. He went about feeling the ground with his feet and the whip, but +could not find the road anywhere. + +'Well, how is it?' asked Vasili Andreevich when Nikita came back to the +sledge. + +'There is no road this side. I must go to the other side and try there,' +said Nikita. + +'There's something there in front. Go and have a look.' + +Nikita went to what had appeared dark, but found that it was earth which +the wind had blown from the bare fields of winter oats and had strewn +over the snow, colouring it. Having searched to the right also, he +returned to the sledge, brushed the snow from his coat, shook it out of +his boots, and seated himself once more. + +'We must go to the right,' he said decidedly. 'The wind was blowing on +our left before, but now it is straight in my face. Drive to the right,' +he repeated with decision. + +Vasili Andreevich took his advice and turned to the right, but still +there was no road. They went on in that direction for some time. The +wind was as fierce as ever and it was snowing lightly. + +'It seems, Vasili Andreevich, that we have gone quite astray,' Nikita +suddenly remarked, as if it were a pleasant thing. 'What is that?' he +added, pointing to some potato vines that showed up from under the snow. + +Vasili Andreevich stopped the perspiring horse, whose deep sides were +heaving heavily. + +'What is it?' + +'Why, we are on the Zakharov lands. See where we've got to!' + +'Nonsense!' retorted Vasili Andreevich. + +'It's not nonsense, Vasili Andreevich. It's the truth,' replied Nikita. +'You can feel that the sledge is going over a potato-field, and there +are the heaps of vines which have been carted here. It's the Zakharov +factory land.' + +'Dear me, how we have gone astray!' said Vasili Andreevich. 'What are we +to do now?' + +'We must go straight on, that's all. We shall come out somewhere--if not +at Zakharova, then at the proprietor's farm,' said Nikita. + +Vasili Andreevich agreed, and drove as Nikita had indicated. So they +went on for a considerable time. At times they came onto bare fields and +the sledge-runners rattled over frozen lumps of earth. Sometimes they +got onto a winter-rye field, or a fallow field on which they could see +stalks of wormwood, and straws sticking up through the snow and swaying +in the wind; sometimes they came onto deep and even white snow, above +which nothing was to be seen. + +The snow was falling from above and sometimes rose from below. The horse +was evidently exhausted, his hair had all curled up from sweat and was +covered with hoar-frost, and he went at a walk. Suddenly he stumbled and +sat down in a ditch or water-course. Vasili Andreevich wanted to stop, +but Nikita cried to him: + +'Why stop? We've got in and must get out. Hey, pet! Hey, darling! Gee +up, old fellow!' he shouted in a cheerful tone to the horse, jumping out +of the sledge and himself getting stuck in the ditch. + +The horse gave a start and quickly climbed out onto the frozen bank. It +was evidently a ditch that had been dug there. + +'Where are we now?' asked Vasili Andreevich. + +'We'll soon find out!' Nikita replied. 'Go on, we'll get somewhere.' + +'Why, this must be the Goryachkin forest!' said Vasili Andreevich, +pointing to something dark that appeared amid the snow in front of them. + +'We'll see what forest it is when we get there,' said Nikita. + +He saw that beside the black thing they had noticed, dry, oblong +willow-leaves were fluttering, and so he knew it was not a forest but a +settlement, but he did not wish to say so. And in fact they had not gone +twenty-five yards beyond the ditch before something in front of them, +evidently trees, showed up black, and they heard a new and melancholy +sound. Nikita had guessed right: it was not a wood, but a row of tall +willows with a few leaves still fluttering on them here and there. They +had evidently been planted along the ditch round a threshing-floor. +Coming up to the willows, which moaned sadly in the wind, the horse +suddenly planted his forelegs above the height of the sledge, drew up +his hind legs also, pulling the sledge onto higher ground, and turned to +the left, no longer sinking up to his knees in snow. They were back on a +road. + +'Well, here we are, but heaven only knows where!' said Nikita. + +The horse kept straight along the road through the drifted snow, and +before they had gone another hundred yards the straight line of the +dark wattle wall of a barn showed up black before them, its roof heavily +covered with snow which poured down from it. After passing the barn the +road turned to the wind and they drove into a snow-drift. But ahead of +them was a lane with houses on either side, so evidently the snow had +been blown across the road and they had to drive through the drift. And +so in fact it was. Having driven through the snow they came out into a +street. At the end house of the village some frozen clothes hanging on +a line--shirts, one red and one white, trousers, leg-bands, and a +petticoat--fluttered wildly in the wind. The white shirt in particular +struggled desperately, waving its sleeves about. + +'There now, either a lazy woman or a dead one has not taken her clothes +down before the holiday,' remarked Nikita, looking at the fluttering +shirts. + + + +III + +At the entrance to the street the wind still raged and the road was +thickly covered with snow, but well within the village it was calm, +warm, and cheerful. At one house a dog was barking, at another a woman, +covering her head with her coat, came running from somewhere and entered +the door of a hut, stopping on the threshold to have a look at the +passing sledge. In the middle of the village girls could be heard +singing. + +Here in the village there seemed to be less wind and snow, and the frost +was less keen. + +'Why, this is Grishkino,' said Vasili Andreevich. + +'So it is,' responded Nikita. + +It really was Grishkino, which meant that they had gone too far to the +left and had travelled some six miles, not quite in the direction they +aimed at, but towards their destination for all that. + +From Grishkino to Goryachkin was about another four miles. + +In the middle of the village they almost ran into a tall man walking +down the middle of the street. + +'Who are you?' shouted the man, stopping the horse, and recognizing +Vasili Anereevich he immediately took hold of the shaft, went along it +hand over hand till he reached the sledge, and placed himself on the +driver's seat. + +He was Isay, a peasant of Vasili Andreevich's acquaintance, and well +known as the principal horse-thief in the district. + +'Ah, Vasili Andreevich! Where are you off to?' said Isay, enveloping +Nikita in the odour of the vodka he had drunk. + +'We were going to Goryachkin.' + +'And look where you've got to! You should have gone through +Molchanovka.' + +'Should have, but didn't manage it,' said Vasili Andreevich, holding in +the horse. + +'That's a good horse,' said Isay, with a shrewd glance at Mukhorty, and +with a practised hand he tightened the loosened knot high in the horse's +bushy tail. + +'Are you going to stay the night?' + +'No, friend. I must get on.' + +'Your business must be pressing. And who is this? Ah, Nikita Stepanych!' + +'Who else?' replied Nikita. 'But I say, good friend, how are we to avoid +going astray again?' + +'Where can you go astray here? Turn back straight down the street and +then when you come out keep straight on. Don't take to the left. You +will come out onto the high road, and then turn to the right.' + +'And where do we turn off the high road? As in summer, or the winter +way?' asked Nikita. + +'The winter way. As soon as you turn off you'll see some bushes, and +opposite them there is a way-mark--a large oak, one with branches--and +that's the way.' + +Vasili Andreevich turned the horse back and drove through the outskirts +of the village. + +'Why not stay the night?' Isay shouted after them. + +But Vasili Andreevich did not answer and touched up the horse. Four +miles of good road, two of which lay through the forest, seemed easy to +manage, especially as the wind was apparently quieter and the snow had +stopped. + +Having driven along the trodden village street, darkened here and there +by fresh manure, past the yard where the clothes hung out and where the +white shirt had broken loose and was now attached only by one frozen +sleeve, they again came within sound of the weird moan of the willows, +and again emerged on the open fields. The storm, far from ceasing, +seemed to have grown yet stronger. The road was completely covered with +drifting snow, and only the stakes showed that they had not lost their +way. But even the stakes ahead of them were not easy to see, since the +wind blew in their faces. + +Vasili Andreevich screwed up his eyes, bent down his head, and looked +out for the way-marks, but trusted mainly to the horse's sagacity, +letting it take its own way. And the horse really did not lose the road +but followed its windings, turning now to the right and now to the left +and sensing it under his feet, so that though the snow fell thicker and +the wind strengthened they still continued to see way-marks now to the +left and now to the right of them. + +So they travelled on for about ten minutes, when suddenly, through the +slanting screen of wind-driven snow, something black showed up which +moved in front of the horse. + +This was another sledge with fellow-travellers. Mukhorty overtook them, +and struck his hoofs against the back of the sledge in front of them. + +'Pass on . . . hey there . . . get in front!' cried voices from the +sledge. + +Vasili Andreevich swerved aside to pass the other sledge. + +In it sat three men and a woman, evidently visitors returning from a +feast. One peasant was whacking the snow-covered croup of their little +horse with a long switch, and the other two sitting in front waved their +arms and shouted something. The woman, completely wrapped up and covered +with snow, sat drowsing and bumping at the back. + +'Who are you?' shouted Vasili Andreevich. + +'From A-a-a . . .' was all that could be heard. + +'I say, where are you from?' + +'From A-a-a-a!' one of the peasants shouted with all his might, but +still it was impossible to make out who they were. + +'Get along! Keep up!' shouted another, ceaselessly beating his horse +with the switch. + +'So you're from a feast, it seems?' + +'Go on, go on! Faster, Simon! Get in front! Faster!' + +The wings of the sledges bumped against one another, almost got jammed +but managed to separate, and the peasants' sledge began to fall behind. + +Their shaggy, big-bellied horse, all covered with snow, breathed heavily +under the low shaft-bow and, evidently using the last of its strength, +vainly endeavoured to escape from the switch, hobbling with its short +legs through the deep snow which it threw up under itself. + +Its muzzle, young-looking, with the nether lip drawn up like that of a +fish, nostrils distended and ears pressed back from fear, kept up for a +few seconds near Nikita's shoulder and then began to fall behind. + +'Just see what liquor does!' said Nikita. 'They've tired that little +horse to death. What pagans!' + +For a few minutes they heard the panting of the tired little horse and +the drunken shouting of the peasants. Then the panting and the shouts +died away, and around them nothing could be heard but the whistling +of the wind in their ears and now and then the squeak of their +sledge-runners over a windswept part of the road. + +This encounter cheered and enlivened Vasili Andreevich, and he drove +on more boldly without examining the way-marks, urging on the horse and +trusting to him. + +Nikita had nothing to do, and as usual in such circumstances he drowsed, +making up for much sleepless time. Suddenly the horse stopped and Nikita +nearly fell forward onto his nose. + +'You know we're off the track again!' said Vasili Andreevich. + +'How's that?' + +'Why, there are no way-marks to be seen. We must have got off the road +again.' + +'Well, if we've lost the road we must find it,' said Nikita curtly, and +getting out and stepping lightly on his pigeon-toed feet he started once +more going about on the snow. + +He walked about for a long time, now disappearing and now reappearing, +and finally he came back. + +'There is no road here. There may be farther on,' he said, getting into +the sledge. + +It was already growing dark. The snow-storm had not increased but had +also not subsided. + +'If we could only hear those peasants!' said Vasili Andreevich. + +'Well they haven't caught us up. We must have gone far astray. Or maybe +they have lost their way too.' + +'Where are we to go then?' asked Vasili Andreevich. + +'Why, we must let the horse take its own way,' said Nikita. 'He will +take us right. Let me have the reins.' + +Vasili Andreevich gave him the reins, the more willingly because his +hands were beginning to feel frozen in his thick gloves. + +Nikita took the reins, but only held them, trying not to shake them +and rejoicing at his favourite's sagacity. And indeed the clever horse, +turning first one ear and then the other now to one side and then to the +other, began to wheel round. + +'The one thing he can't do is to talk,' Nikita kept saying. 'See what he +is doing! Go on, go on! You know best. That's it, that's it!' + +The wind was now blowing from behind and it felt warmer. + +'Yes, he's clever,' Nikita continued, admiring the horse. 'A Kirgiz +horse is strong but stupid. But this one--just see what he's doing with +his ears! He doesn't need any telegraph. He can scent a mile off.' + +Before another half-hour had passed they saw something dark ahead of +them--a wood or a village--and stakes again appeared to the right. They +had evidently come out onto the road. + +'Why, that's Grishkino again!' Nikita suddenly exclaimed. + +And indeed, there on their left was that same barn with the snow flying +from it, and farther on the same line with the frozen washing, shirts +and trousers, which still fluttered desperately in the wind. + +Again they drove into the street and again it grew quiet, warm, and +cheerful, and again they could see the manure-stained street and hear +voices and songs and the barking of a dog. It was already so dark that +there were lights in some of the windows. + +Half-way through the village Vasili Andreevich turned the horse towards +a large double-fronted brick house and stopped at the porch. + +Nikita went to the lighted snow-covered window, in the rays of which +flying snow-flakes glittered, and knocked at it with his whip. + +'Who is there?' a voice replied to his knock. + +'From Kresty, the Brekhunovs, dear fellow,' answered Nikita. 'Just come +out for a minute.' + +Someone moved from the window, and a minute or two later there was the +sound of the passage door as it came unstuck, then the latch of the +outside door clicked and a tall white-bearded peasant, with a sheepskin +coat thrown over his white holiday shirt, pushed his way out holding the +door firmly against the wind, followed by a lad in a red shirt and high +leather boots. + +'Is that you, Andreevich?' asked the old man. + +'Yes, friend, we've gone astray,' said Vasili Andreevich. 'We wanted to +get to Goryachkin but found ourselves here. We went a second time but +lost our way again.' + +'Just see how you have gone astray!' said the old man. 'Petrushka, go +and open the gate!' he added, turning to the lad in the red shirt. + +'All right,' said the lad in a cheerful voice, and ran back into the +passage. + +'But we're not staying the night,' said Vasili Andreevich. + +'Where will you go in the night? You'd better stay!' + +'I'd be glad to, but I must go on. It's business, and it can't be +helped.' + +'Well, warm yourself at least. The samovar is just ready.' + +'Warm myself? Yes, I'll do that,' said Vasili Andreevich. 'It won't get +darker. The moon will rise and it will be lighter. Let's go in and warm +ourselves, Nikita.' + +'Well, why not? Let us warm ourselves,' replied Nikita, who was stiff +with cold and anxious to warm his frozen limbs. + +Vasili Andreevich went into the room with the old man, and Nikita drove +through the gate opened for him by Petrushka, by whose advice he backed +the horse under the penthouse. The ground was covered with manure and +the tall bow over the horse's head caught against the beam. The hens +and the cock had already settled to roost there, and clucked peevishly, +clinging to the beam with their claws. The disturbed sheep shied and +rushed aside trampling the frozen manure with their hooves. The dog +yelped desperately with fright and anger and then burst out barking like +a puppy at the stranger. + +Nikita talked to them all, excused himself to the fowls and assured +them that he would not disturb them again, rebuked the sheep for being +frightened without knowing why, and kept soothing the dog, while he tied +up the horse. + +'Now that will be all right,' he said, knocking the snow off his +clothes. 'Just hear how he barks!' he added, turning to the dog. 'Be +quiet, stupid! Be quiet. You are only troubling yourself for nothing. +We're not thieves, we're friends. . . .' + +'And these are, it's said, the three domestic counsellors,' remarked the +lad, and with his strong arms he pushed under the pent-roof the sledge +that had remained outside. + +'Why counsellors?' asked Nikita. + +'That's what is printed in Paulson. A thief creeps to a house--the dog +barks, that means "Be on your guard!" The cock crows, that means, "Get +up!" The cat licks herself--that means, "A welcome guest is coming. Get +ready to receive him!"' said the lad with a smile. + +Petrushka could read and write and knew Paulson's primer, his only book, +almost by heart, and he was fond of quoting sayings from it that he +thought suited the occasion, especially when he had had something to +drink, as to-day. + +'That's so,' said Nikita. + +'You must be chilled through and through,' said Petrushka. + +'Yes, I am rather,' said Nikita, and they went across the yard and the +passage into the house. + + + +IV + +The household to which Vasili Andreevich had come was one of the richest +in the village. The family had five allotments, besides renting other +land. They had six horses, three cows, two calves, and some twenty +sheep. There were twenty-two members belonging to the homestead: four +married sons, six grandchildren (one of whom, Petrushka, was married), +two great-grandchildren, three orphans, and four daughters-in-law with +their babies. It was one of the few homesteads that remained still +undivided, but even here the dull internal work of disintegration which +would inevitably lead to separation had already begun, starting as usual +among the women. Two sons were living in Moscow as water-carriers, and +one was in the army. At home now were the old man and his wife, their +second son who managed the homestead, the eldest who had come from +Moscow for the holiday, and all the women and children. Besides these +members of the family there was a visitor, a neighbour who was godfather +to one of the children. + +Over the table in the room hung a lamp with a shade, which brightly lit +up the tea-things, a bottle of vodka, and some refreshments, besides +illuminating the brick walls, which in the far corner were hung with +icons on both sides of which were pictures. At the head of the table +sat Vasili Andreevich in a black sheepskin coat, sucking his frozen +moustache and observing the room and the people around him with his +prominent hawk-like eyes. With him sat the old, bald, white-bearded +master of the house in a white homespun shirt, and next him the son +home from Moscow for the holiday--a man with a sturdy back and powerful +shoulders and clad in a thin print shirt--then the second son, also +broad-shouldered, who acted as head of the house, and then a lean +red-haired peasant--the neighbour. + +Having had a drink of vodka and something to eat, they were about to +take tea, and the samovar standing on the floor beside the brick oven +was already humming. The children could be seen in the top bunks and on +the top of the oven. A woman sat on a lower bunk with a cradle beside +her. The old housewife, her face covered with wrinkles which wrinkled +even her lips, was waiting on Vasili Andreevich. + +As Nikita entered the house she was offering her guest a small tumbler +of thick glass which she had just filled with vodka. + +'Don't refuse, Vasili Andreevich, you mustn't! Wish us a merry feast. +Drink it, dear!' she said. + +The sight and smell of vodka, especially now when he was chilled through +and tired out, much disturbed Nikita's mind. He frowned, and having +shaken the snow off his cap and coat, stopped in front of the icons +as if not seeing anyone, crossed himself three times, and bowed to the +icons. Then, turning to the old master of the house and bowing first +to him, then to all those at table, then to the women who stood by the +oven, and muttering: 'A merry holiday!' he began taking off his outer +things without looking at the table. + +'Why, you're all covered with hoar-frost, old fellow!' said the eldest +brother, looking at Nikita's snow-covered face, eyes, and beard. + +Nikita took off his coat, shook it again, hung it up beside the oven, +and came up to the table. He too was offered vodka. He went through a +moment of painful hesitation and nearly took up the glass and emptied +the clear fragrant liquid down his throat, but he glanced at Vasili +Andreevich, remembered his oath and the boots that he had sold for +drink, recalled the cooper, remembered his son for whom he had promised +to buy a horse by spring, sighed, and declined it. + +'I don't drink, thank you kindly,' he said frowning, and sat down on a +bench near the second window. + +'How's that?' asked the eldest brother. + +'I just don't drink,' replied Nikita without lifting his eyes but +looking askance at his scanty beard and moustache and getting the +icicles out of them. + +'It's not good for him,' said Vasili Andreevich, munching a cracknel +after emptying his glass. + +'Well, then, have some tea,' said the kindly old hostess. 'You must +be chilled through, good soul. Why are you women dawdling so with the +samovar?' + +'It is ready,' said one of the young women, and after flicking with her +apron the top of the samovar which was now boiling over, she carried it +with an effort to the table, raised it, and set it down with a thud. + +Meanwhile Vasili Andreevich was telling how he had lost his way, how +they had come back twice to this same village, and how they had gone +astray and had met some drunken peasants. Their hosts were surprised, +explained where and why they had missed their way, said who the tipsy +people they had met were, and told them how they ought to go. + +'A little child could find the way to Molchanovka from here. All you +have to do is to take the right turning from the high road. There's a +bush you can see just there. But you didn't even get that far!' said the +neighbour. + +'You'd better stay the night. The women will make up beds for you,' said +the old woman persuasively. + +'You could go on in the morning and it would be pleasanter,' said the +old man, confirming what his wife had said. + +'I can't, friend. Business!' said Vasili Andreevich. 'Lose an hour and +you can't catch it up in a year,' he added, remembering the grove and +the dealers who might snatch that deal from him. 'We shall get there, +shan't we?' he said, turning to Nikita. + +Nikita did not answer for some time, apparently still intent on thawing +out his beard and moustache. + +'If only we don't go astray again,' he replied gloomily. He was gloomy +because he passionately longed for some vodka, and the only thing that +could assuage that longing was tea and he had not yet been offered any. + +'But we have only to reach the turning and then we shan't go wrong. The +road will be through the forest the whole way,' said Vasili Andreevich. + +'It's just as you please, Vasili Andreevich. If we're to go, let us go,' +said Nikita, taking the glass of tea he was offered. + +'We'll drink our tea and be off.' + +Nikita said nothing but only shook his head, and carefully pouring some +tea into his saucer began warming his hands, the fingers of which were +always swollen with hard work, over the steam. Then, biting off a tiny +bit of sugar, he bowed to his hosts, said, 'Your health!' and drew in +the steaming liquid. + +'If somebody would see us as far as the turning,' said Vasili +Andreevich. + +'Well, we can do that,' said the eldest son. 'Petrushka will harness and +go that far with you.' + +'Well, then, put in the horse, lad, and I shall be thankful to you for +it.' + +'Oh, what for, dear man?' said the kindly old woman. 'We are heartily +glad to do it.' + +'Petrushka, go and put in the mare,' said the eldest brother. + +'All right,' replied Petrushka with a smile, and promptly snatching his +cap down from a nail he ran away to harness. + +While the horse was being harnessed the talk returned to the point at +which it had stopped when Vasili Andreevich drove up to the window. The +old man had been complaining to his neighbour, the village elder, about +his third son who had not sent him anything for the holiday though he +had sent a French shawl to his wife. + +'The young people are getting out of hand,' said the old man. + +'And how they do!' said the neighbour. 'There's no managing them! They +know too much. There's Demochkin now, who broke his father's arm. It's +all from being too clever, it seems.' + +Nikita listened, watched their faces, and evidently would have liked to +share in the conversation, but he was too busy drinking his tea and only +nodded his head approvingly. He emptied one tumbler after another and +grew warmer and warmer and more and more comfortable. The talk continued +on the same subject for a long time--the harmfulness of a household +dividing up--and it was clearly not an abstract discussion but concerned +the question of a separation in that house; a separation demanded by the +second son who sat there morosely silent. + +It was evidently a sore subject and absorbed them all, but out of +propriety they did not discuss their private affairs before strangers. +At last, however, the old man could not restrain himself, and with tears +in his eyes declared that he would not consent to a break-up of the +family during his lifetime, that his house was prospering, thank God, +but that if they separated they would all have to go begging. + +'Just like the Matveevs,' said the neighbour. 'They used to have a +proper house, but now they've split up none of them has anything.' + +'And that is what you want to happen to us,' said the old man, turning +to his son. + +The son made no reply and there was an awkward pause. The silence was +broken by Petrushka, who having harnessed the horse had returned to the +hut a few minutes before this and had been listening all the time with a +smile. + +'There's a fable about that in Paulson,' he said. 'A father gave his +sons a broom to break. At first they could not break it, but when they +took it twig by twig they broke it easily. And it's the same here,' and +he gave a broad smile. 'I'm ready!' he added. + +'If you're ready, let's go,' said Vasili Andreevich. 'And as to +separating, don't you allow it, Grandfather. You got everything together +and you're the master. Go to the Justice of the Peace. He'll say how +things should be done.' + +'He carries on so, carries on so,' the old man continued in a whining +tone. 'There's no doing anything with him. It's as if the devil +possessed him.' + +Nikita having meanwhile finished his fifth tumbler of tea laid it on +its side instead of turning it upside down, hoping to be offered a sixth +glass. But there was no more water in the samovar, so the hostess did +not fill it up for him. Besides, Vasili Andreevich was putting his +things on, so there was nothing for it but for Nikita to get up too, put +back into the sugar-basin the lump of sugar he had nibbled all round, +wipe his perspiring face with the skirt of his sheepskin, and go to put +on his overcoat. + +Having put it on he sighed deeply, thanked his hosts, said good-bye, +and went out of the warm bright room into the cold dark passage, through +which the wind was howling and where snow was blowing through the cracks +of the shaking door, and from there into the yard. + +Petrushka stood in his sheepskin in the middle of the yard by his horse, +repeating some lines from Paulson's primer. He said with a smile: + + 'Storms with mist the sky conceal, + Snowy circles wheeling wild. + Now like savage beast 'twill howl, + And now 'tis wailing like a child.' + +Nikita nodded approvingly as he arranged the reins. + +The old man, seeing Vasili Andreevich off, brought a lantern into the +passage to show him a light, but it was blown out at once. And even in +the yard it was evident that the snowstorm had become more violent. + +'Well, this is weather!' thought Vasili Andreevich. 'Perhaps we may not +get there after all. But there is nothing to be done. Business! Besides, +we have got ready, our host's horse has been harnessed, and we'll get +there with God's help!' + +Their aged host also thought they ought not to go, but he had already +tried to persuade them to stay and had not been listened to. + +'It's no use asking them again. Maybe my age makes me timid. They'll +get there all right, and at least we shall get to bed in good time and +without any fuss,' he thought. + +Petrushka did not think of danger. He knew the road and the whole +district so well, and the lines about 'snowy circles wheeling wild' +described what was happening outside so aptly that it cheered him up. +Nikita did not wish to go at all, but he had been accustomed not to have +his own way and to serve others for so long that there was no one to +hinder the departing travellers. + + + +V + +Vasili Andreevich went over to his sledge, found it with difficulty in +the darkness, climbed in and took the reins. + +'Go on in front!' he cried. + +Petrushka kneeling in his low sledge started his horse. Mukhorty, who +had been neighing for some time past, now scenting a mare ahead of him +started after her, and they drove out into the street. They drove again +through the outskirts of the village and along the same road, past the +yard where the frozen linen had hung (which, however, was no longer to +be seen), past the same barn, which was now snowed up almost to the +roof and from which the snow was still endlessly pouring past the same +dismally moaning, whistling, and swaying willows, and again entered into +the sea of blustering snow raging from above and below. The wind was +so strong that when it blew from the side and the travellers steered +against it, it tilted the sledges and turned the horses to one side. +Petrushka drove his good mare in front at a brisk trot and kept shouting +lustily. Mukhorty pressed after her. + +After travelling so for about ten minutes, Petrushka turned round and +shouted something. Neither Vasili Andreevich nor Nikita could hear +anything because of the wind, but they guessed that they had arrived at +the turning. In fact Petrushka had turned to the right, and now the wind +that had blown from the side blew straight in their faces, and through +the snow they saw something dark on their right. It was the bush at the +turning. + +'Well now, God speed you!' + +'Thank you, Petrushka!' + +'Storms with mist the sky conceal!' shouted Petrushka as he disappeared. + +'There's a poet for you!' muttered Vasili Andreevich, pulling at the +reins. + +'Yes, a fine lad--a true peasant,' said Nikita. + +They drove on. + +Nikita, wrapping his coat closely about him and pressing his head down +so close to his shoulders that his short beard covered his throat, sat +silently, trying not to lose the warmth he had obtained while drinking +tea in the house. Before him he saw the straight lines of the +shafts which constantly deceived him into thinking they were on a +well-travelled road, and the horse's swaying crupper with his knotted +tail blown to one side, and farther ahead the high shaft-bow and the +swaying head and neck of the horse with its waving mane. Now and then +he caught sight of a way-sign, so that he knew they were still on a road +and that there was nothing for him to be concerned about. + +Vasili Andreevich drove on, leaving it to the horse to keep to the road. +But Mukhorty, though he had had a breathing-space in the village, ran +reluctantly, and seemed now and then to get off the road, so that Vasili +Andreevich had repeatedly to correct him. + +'Here's a stake to the right, and another, and here's a third,' Vasili +Andreevich counted, 'and here in front is the forest,' thought he, as he +looked at something dark in front of him. But what had seemed to him a +forest was only a bush. They passed the bush and drove on for another +hundred yards but there was no fourth way-mark nor any forest. + +'We must reach the forest soon,' thought Vasili Andreevich, and animated +by the vodka and the tea he did not stop but shook the reins, and the +good obedient horse responded, now ambling, now slowly trotting in the +direction in which he was sent, though he knew that he was not going the +right way. Ten minutes went by, but there was still no forest. + +'There now, we must be astray again,' said Vasili Andreevich, pulling +up. + +Nikita silently got out of the sledge and holding his coat, which the +wind now wrapped closely about him and now almost tore off, started to +feel about in the snow, going first to one side and then to the other. +Three or four times he was completely lost to sight. At last he returned +and took the reins from Vasili Andreevich's hand. + +'We must go to the right,' he said sternly and peremptorily, as he +turned the horse. + +'Well, if it's to the right, go to the right,' said Vasili Andreevich, +yielding up the reins to Nikita and thrusting his freezing hands into +his sleeves. + +Nikita did not reply. + +'Now then, friend, stir yourself!' he shouted to the horse, but in spite +of the shake of the reins Mukhorty moved only at a walk. + +The snow in places was up to his knees, and the sledge moved by fits and +starts with his every movement. + +Nikita took the whip that hung over the front of the sledge and struck +him once. The good horse, unused to the whip, sprang forward and moved +at a trot, but immediately fell back into an amble and then to a walk. +So they went on for five minutes. It was dark and the snow whirled from +above and rose from below, so that sometimes the shaft-bow could not +be seen. At times the sledge seemed to stand still and the field to +run backwards. Suddenly the horse stopped abruptly, evidently aware +of something close in front of him. Nikita again sprang lightly out, +throwing down the reins, and went ahead to see what had brought him to +a standstill, but hardly had he made a step in front of the horse before +his feet slipped and he went rolling down an incline. + +'Whoa, whoa, whoa!' he said to himself as he fell, and he tried to stop +his fall but could not, and only stopped when his feet plunged into a +thick layer of snow that had drifted to the bottom of the hollow. + +The fringe of a drift of snow that hung on the edge of the hollow, +disturbed by Nikita's fall, showered down on him and got inside his +collar. + +'What a thing to do!' said Nikita reproachfully, addressing the drift +and the hollow and shaking the snow from under his collar. + +'Nikita! Hey, Nikita!' shouted Vasili Andreevich from above. + +But Nikita did not reply. He was too occupied in shaking out the snow +and searching for the whip he had dropped when rolling down the incline. +Having found the whip he tried to climb straight up the bank where he +had rolled down, but it was impossible to do so: he kept rolling down +again, and so he had to go along at the foot of the hollow to find a way +up. About seven yards farther on he managed with difficulty to crawl up +the incline on all fours, then he followed the edge of the hollow back +to the place where the horse should have been. He could not see either +horse or sledge, but as he walked against the wind he heard Vasili +Andreevich's shouts and Mukhorty's neighing, calling him. + +'I'm coming! I'm coming! What are you cackling for?' he muttered. + +Only when he had come up to the sledge could he make out the horse, and +Vasili Andreevich standing beside it and looking gigantic. + +'Where the devil did you vanish to? We must go back, if only to +Grishkino,' he began reproaching Nikita. + +'I'd be glad to get back, Vasili Andreevich, but which way are we to go? +There is such a ravine here that if we once get in it we shan't get out +again. I got stuck so fast there myself that I could hardly get out.' + +'What shall we do, then? We can't stay here! We must go somewhere!' said +Vasili Andreevich. + +Nikita said nothing. He seated himself in the sledge with his back to +the wind, took off his boots, shook out the snow that had got into them, +and taking some straw from the bottom of the sledge, carefully plugged +with it a hole in his left boot. + +Vasili Andreevich remained silent, as though now leaving everything to +Nikita. Having put his boots on again, Nikita drew his feet into the +sledge, put on his mittens and took up the reins, and directed the horse +along the side of the ravine. But they had not gone a hundred yards +before the horse again stopped short. The ravine was in front of him +again. + +Nikita again climbed out and again trudged about in the snow. He did +this for a considerable time and at last appeared from the opposite side +to that from which he had started. + +'Vasili Andreevich, are you alive?' he called out. + +'Here!' replied Vasili Andreevich. 'Well, what now?' + +'I can't make anything out. It's too dark. There's nothing but ravines. +We must drive against the wind again.' + +They set off once more. Again Nikita went stumbling through the snow, +again he fell in, again climbed out and trudged about, and at last quite +out of breath he sat down beside the sledge. + +'Well, how now?' asked Vasili Andreevich. + +'Why, I am quite worn out and the horse won't go.' + +'Then what's to be done?' + +'Why, wait a minute.' + +Nikita went away again but soon returned. + +'Follow me!' he said, going in front of the horse. + +Vasili Andreevich no longer gave orders but implicitly did what Nikita +told him. + +'Here, follow me!' Nikita shouted, stepping quickly to the right, and +seizing the rein he led Mukhorty down towards a snow-drift. + +At first the horse held back, then he jerked forward, hoping to leap the +drift, but he had not the strength and sank into it up to his collar. + +'Get out!' Nikita called to Vasili Andreevich who still sat in the +sledge, and taking hold of one shaft he moved the sledge closer to +the horse. 'It's hard, brother!' he said to Mukhorty, 'but it can't be +helped. Make an effort! Now, now, just a little one!' he shouted. + +The horse gave a tug, then another, but failed to clear himself and +settled down again as if considering something. + +'Now, brother, this won't do!' Nikita admonished him. 'Now once more!' + +Again Nikita tugged at the shaft on his side, and Vasili Andreevich did +the same on the other. + +Mukhorty lifted his head and then gave a sudden jerk. + +'That's it! That's it!' cried Nikita. 'Don't be afraid--you won't sink!' + +One plunge, another, and a third, and at last Mukhorty was out of the +snow-drift, and stood still, breathing heavily and shaking the snow off +himself. Nikita wished to lead him farther, but Vasili Andreevich, in +his two fur coats, was so out of breath that he could not walk farther +and dropped into the sledge. + +'Let me get my breath!' he said, unfastening the kerchief with which he +had tied the collar of his fur coat at the village. + +'It's all right here. You lie there,' said Nikita. 'I will lead him +along.' And with Vasili Andreevich in the sledge he led the horse by the +bridle about ten paces down and then up a slight rise, and stopped. + +The place where Nikita had stopped was not completely in the hollow +where the snow sweeping down from the hillocks might have buried them +altogether, but still it was partly sheltered from the wind by the +side of the ravine. There were moments when the wind seemed to abate a +little, but that did not last long and as if to make up for that respite +the storm swept down with tenfold vigour and tore and whirled the more +fiercely. Such a gust struck them at the moment when Vasili Andreevich, +having recovered his breath, got out of the sledge and went up to +Nikita to consult him as to what they should do. They both bent down +involuntarily and waited till the violence of the squall should +have passed. Mukhorty too laid back his ears and shook his head +discontentedly. As soon as the violence of the blast had abated a +little, Nikita took off his mittens, stuck them into his belt, breathed +onto his hands, and began to undo the straps of the shaft-bow. + +'What's that you are doing there?' asked Vasili Andreevich. + +'Unharnessing. What else is there to do? I have no strength left,' said +Nikita as though excusing himself. + +'Can't we drive somewhere?' + +'No, we can't. We shall only kill the horse. Why, the poor beast is not +himself now,' said Nikita, pointing to the horse, which was standing +submissively waiting for what might come, with his steep wet sides +heaving heavily. 'We shall have to stay the night here,' he said, as if +preparing to spend the night at an inn, and he proceeded to unfasten the +collar-straps. The buckles came undone. + +'But shan't we be frozen?' remarked Vasili Andreevich. + +'Well, if we are we can't help it,' said Nikita. + + + +VI + + +Although Vasili Andreevich felt quite warm in his two fur coats, +especially after struggling in the snow-drift, a cold shiver ran down +his back on realizing that he must really spend the night where +they were. To calm himself he sat down in the sledge and got out his +cigarettes and matches. + +Nikita meanwhile unharnessed Mukhorty. He unstrapped the belly-band +and the back-band, took away the reins, loosened the collar-strap, and +removed the shaft-bow, talking to him all the time to encourage him. + +'Now come out! come out!' he said, leading him clear of the shafts. 'Now +we'll tie you up here and I'll put down some straw and take off your +bridle. When you've had a bite you'll feel more cheerful.' + +But Mukhorty was restless and evidently not comforted by Nikita's +remarks. He stepped now on one foot and now on another, and pressed +close against the sledge, turning his back to the wind and rubbing his +head on Nikita's sleeve. Then, as if not to pain Nikita by refusing his +offer of the straw he put before him, he hurriedly snatched a wisp out +of the sledge, but immediately decided that it was now no time to think +of straw and threw it down, and the wind instantly scattered it, carried +it away, and covered it with snow. + +'Now we will set up a signal,' said Nikita, and turning the front of the +sledge to the wind he tied the shafts together with a strap and set them +up on end in front of the sledge. 'There now, when the snow covers us +up, good folk will see the shafts and dig us out,' he said, slapping his +mittens together and putting them on. 'That's what the old folk taught +us!' + +Vasili Andreevich meanwhile had unfastened his coat, and holding its +skirts up for shelter, struck one sulphur match after another on the +steel box. But his hands trembled, and one match after another either +did not kindle or was blown out by the wind just as he was lifting it to +the cigarette. At last a match did burn up, and its flame lit up for +a moment the fur of his coat, his hand with the gold ring on the bent +forefinger, and the snow-sprinkled oat-straw that stuck out from under +the drugget. The cigarette lighted, he eagerly took a whiff or two, +inhaled the smoke, let it out through his moustache, and would have +inhaled again, but the wind tore off the burning tobacco and whirled it +away as it had done the straw. + +But even these few puffs had cheered him. + +'If we must spend the night here, we must!' he said with decision. 'Wait +a bit, I'll arrange a flag as well,' he added, picking up the kerchief +which he had thrown down in the sledge after taking it from round his +collar, and drawing off his gloves and standing up on the front of +the sledge and stretching himself to reach the strap, he tied the +handkerchief to it with a tight knot. + +The kerchief immediately began to flutter wildly, now clinging round the +shaft, now suddenly streaming out, stretching and flapping. + +'Just see what a fine flag!' said Vasili Andreevich, admiring his +handiwork and letting himself down into the sledge. 'We should be warmer +together, but there's not room enough for two,' he added. + +'I'll find a place,' said Nikita. 'But I must cover up the horse +first--he sweated so, poor thing. Let go!' he added, drawing the drugget +from under Vasili Andreevich. + +Having got the drugget he folded it in two, and after taking off the +breechband and pad, covered Mukhorty with it. + +'Anyhow it will be warmer, silly!' he said, putting back the breechband +and the pad on the horse over the drugget. Then having finished that +business he returned to the sledge, and addressing Vasili Andreevich, +said: 'You won't need the sackcloth, will you? And let me have some +straw.' + +And having taken these things from under Vasili Andreevich, Nikita went +behind the sledge, dug out a hole for himself in the snow, put straw +into it, wrapped his coat well round him, covered himself with the +sackcloth, and pulling his cap well down seated himself on the straw he +had spread, and leant against the wooden back of the sledge to shelter +himself from the wind and the snow. + +Vasili Andreevich shook his head disapprovingly at what Nikita was +doing, as in general he disapproved of the peasant's stupidity and lack +of education, and he began to settle himself down for the night. + +He smoothed the remaining straw over the bottom of the sledge, putting +more of it under his side. Then he thrust his hands into his sleeves and +settled down, sheltering his head in the corner of the sledge from the +wind in front. + +He did not wish to sleep. He lay and thought: thought ever of the one +thing that constituted the sole aim, meaning, pleasure, and pride of his +life--of how much money he had made and might still make, of how much +other people he knew had made and possessed, and of how those others had +made and were making it, and how he, like them, might still make much +more. The purchase of the Goryachkin grove was a matter of immense +importance to him. By that one deal he hoped to make perhaps ten +thousand rubles. He began mentally to reckon the value of the wood he +had inspected in autumn, and on five acres of which he had counted all +the trees. + +'The oaks will go for sledge-runners. The undergrowth will take care of +itself, and there'll still be some thirty sazheens of fire-wood left on +each desyatin,' said he to himself. 'That means there will be at +least two hundred and twenty-five rubles' worth left on each desyatin. +Fifty-six desyatiins means fifty-six hundreds, and fifty-six hundreds, +and fifty-six tens, and another fifty-six tens, and then fifty-six +fives. . . .' He saw that it came out to more than twelve thousand +rubles, but could not reckon it up exactly without a counting-frame. +'But I won't give ten thousand, anyhow. I'll give about eight thousand +with a deduction on account of the glades. I'll grease the surveyor's +palm--give him a hundred rubles, or a hundred and fifty, and he'll +reckon that there are some five desyatins of glade to be deducted. And +he'll let it go for eight thousand. Three thousand cash down. That'll +move him, no fear!' he thought, and he pressed his pocket-book with his +forearm. + +'God only knows how we missed the turning. The forest ought to be there, +and a watchman's hut, and dogs barking. But the damned things don't +bark when they're wanted.' He turned his collar down from his ear and +listened, but as before only the whistling of the wind could be heard, +the flapping and fluttering of the kerchief tied to the shafts, and the +pelting of the snow against the woodwork of the sledge. He again covered +up his ear. + +'If I had known I would have stayed the night. Well, no matter, we'll +get there to-morrow. It's only one day lost. And the others won't travel +in such weather.' Then he remembered that on the 9th he had to receive +payment from the butcher for his oxen. 'He meant to come himself, but +he won't find me, and my wife won't know how to receive the money. She +doesn't know the right way of doing things,' he thought, recalling +how at their party the day before she had not known how to treat the +police-officer who was their guest. 'Of course she's only a woman! Where +could she have seen anything? In my father's time what was our house +like? Just a rich peasant's house: just an oatmill and an inn--that was +the whole property. But what have I done in these fifteen years? A shop, +two taverns, a flour-mill, a grain-store, two farms leased out, and a +house with an iron-roofed barn,' he thought proudly. 'Not as it was in +Father's time! Who is talked of in the whole district now? Brekhunov! +And why? Because I stick to business. I take trouble, not like others +who lie abed or waste their time on foolishness while I don't sleep of +nights. Blizzard or no blizzard I start out. So business gets done. They +think money-making is a joke. No, take pains and rack your brains! You +get overtaken out of doors at night, like this, or keep awake night +after night till the thoughts whirling in your head make the pillow +turn,' he meditated with pride. 'They think people get on through luck. +After all, the Mironovs are now millionaires. And why? Take pains and +God gives. If only He grants me health!' + +The thought that he might himself be a millionaire like Mironov, who +began with nothing, so excited Vasili Andreevich that he felt the need +of talking to somebody. But there was no one to talk to. . . . If only +he could have reached Goryachkin he would have talked to the landlord +and shown him a thing or two. + +'Just see how it blows! It will snow us up so deep that we shan't be +able to get out in the morning!' he thought, listening to a gust of wind +that blew against the front of the sledge, bending it and lashing the +snow against it. He raised himself and looked round. All he could see +through the whirling darkness was Mukhorty's dark head, his back covered +by the fluttering drugget, and his thick knotted tail; while all round, +in front and behind, was the same fluctuating whity darkness, sometimes +seeming to get a little lighter and sometimes growing denser still. + +'A pity I listened to Nikita,' he thought. 'We ought to have driven on. +We should have come out somewhere, if only back to Grishkino and stayed +the night at Taras's. As it is we must sit here all night. But what was +I thinking about? Yes, that God gives to those who take trouble, but not +to loafers, lie-abeds, or fools. I must have a smoke!' + +He sat down again, got out his cigarette-case, and stretched himself +flat on his stomach, screening the matches with the skirt of his coat. +But the wind found its way in and put out match after match. At last +he got one to burn and lit a cigarette. He was very glad that he had +managed to do what he wanted, and though the wind smoked more of the +cigarette than he did, he still got two or three puffs and felt more +cheerful. He again leant back, wrapped himself up, started reflecting +and remembering, and suddenly and quite unexpectedly lost consciousness +and fell asleep. + +Suddenly something seemed to give him a push and awoke him. Whether +it was Mukhorty who had pulled some straw from under him, or whether +something within him had startled him, at all events it woke him, and +his heart began to beat faster and faster so that the sledge seemed to +tremble under him. He opened his eyes. Everything around him was just +as before. 'It looks lighter,' he thought. 'I expect it won't be long +before dawn.' But he at once remembered that it was lighter because the +moon had risen. He sat up and looked first at the horse. Mukhorty still +stood with his back to the wind, shivering all over. One side of the +drugget, which was completely covered with snow, had been blown back, +the breeching had slipped down and the snow-covered head with its waving +forelock and mane were now more visible. Vasili Andreevich leant over +the back of the sledge and looked behind. Nikita still sat in the same +position in which he had settled himself. The sacking with which he was +covered, and his legs, were thickly covered with snow. + +'If only that peasant doesn't freeze to death! His clothes are so +wretched. I may be held responsible for him. What shiftless people they +are--such a want of education,' thought Vasili Andreevich, and he felt +like taking the drugget off the horse and putting it over Nikita, but +it would be very cold to get out and move about and, moreover, the horse +might freeze to death. 'Why did I bring him with me? It was all her +stupidity!' he thought, recalling his unloved wife, and he rolled over +into his old place at the front part of the sledge. 'My uncle once spent +a whole night like this,' he reflected, 'and was all right.' But another +case came at once to his mind. 'But when they dug Sebastian out he was +dead--stiff like a frozen carcass. If I'd only stopped the night in +Grishkino all this would not have happened!' + +And wrapping his coat carefully round him so that none of the warmth of +the fur should be wasted but should warm him all over, neck, knees, and +feet, he shut his eyes and tried to sleep again. But try as he would he +could not get drowsy, on the contrary he felt wide awake and animated. +Again he began counting his gains and the debts due to him, again he +began bragging to himself and feeling pleased with himself and his +position, but all this was continually disturbed by a stealthily +approaching fear and by the unpleasant regret that he had not remained +in Grishkino. + +'How different it would be to be lying warm on a bench!' + +He turned over several times in his attempts to get into a more +comfortable position more sheltered from the wind, he wrapped up his +legs closer, shut his eyes, and lay still. But either his legs in their +strong felt boots began to ache from being bent in one position, or the +wind blew in somewhere, and after lying still for a short time he again +began to recall the disturbing fact that he might now have been lying +quietly in the warm hut at Grishkino. He again sat up, turned about, +muffled himself up, and settled down once more. + +Once he fancied that he heard a distant cock-crow. He felt glad, turned +down his coat-collar and listened with strained attention, but in spite +of all his efforts nothing could be heard but the wind whistling between +the shafts, the flapping of the kerchief, and the snow pelting against +the frame of the sledge. + +Nikita sat just as he had done all the time, not moving and not even +answering Vasili Andreevich who had addressed him a couple of times. +'He doesn't care a bit--he's probably asleep!' thought Vasili Andreevich +with vexation, looking behind the sledge at Nikita who was covered with +a thick layer of snow. + +Vasili Andreevich got up and lay down again some twenty times. It +seemed to him that the night would never end. 'It must be getting near +morning,' he thought, getting up and looking around. 'Let's have a look +at my watch. It will be cold to unbutton, but if I only know that it's +getting near morning I shall at any rate feel more cheerful. We could +begin harnessing.' + +In the depth of his heart Vasili Andreevich knew that it could not yet +be near morning, but he was growing more and more afraid, and wished +both to get to know and yet to deceive himself. He carefully undid the +fastening of his sheepskin, pushed in his hand, and felt about for +a long time before he got to his waistcoat. With great difficulty he +managed to draw out his silver watch with its enamelled flower design, +and tried to make out the time. He could not see anything without a +light. Again he went down on his knees and elbows as he had done when he +lighted a cigarette, got out his matches, and proceeded to strike one. +This time he went to work more carefully, and feeling with his fingers +for a match with the largest head and the greatest amount of phosphorus, +lit it at the first try. Bringing the face of the watch under the light +he could hardly believe his eyes. . . . It was only ten minutes past +twelve. Almost the whole night was still before him. + +'Oh, how long the night is!' he thought, feeling a cold shudder run down +his back, and having fastened his fur coats again and wrapped himself +up, he snuggled into a corner of the sledge intending to wait +patiently. Suddenly, above the monotonous roar of the wind, he clearly +distinguished another new and living sound. It steadily strengthened, +and having become quite clear diminished just as gradually. Beyond all +doubt it was a wolf, and he was so near that the movement of his jaws as +he changed his cry was brought down the wind. Vasili Andreevich turned +back the collar of his coat and listened attentively. Mukhorty too +strained to listen, moving his ears, and when the wolf had ceased its +howling he shifted from foot to foot and gave a warning snort. After +this Vasili Andreevich could not fall asleep again or even calm +himself. The more he tried to think of his accounts, his business, his +reputation, his worth and his wealth, the more and more was he mastered +by fear, and regrets that he had not stayed the night at Grishkino +dominated and mingled in all his thoughts. + +'Devil take the forest! Things were all right without it, thank God. Ah, +if we had only put up for the night!' he said to himself. 'They say it's +drunkards that freeze,' he thought, 'and I have had some drink.' And +observing his sensations he noticed that he was beginning to shiver, +without knowing whether it was from cold or from fear. He tried to wrap +himself up and lie down as before, but could no longer do so. He could +not stay in one position. He wanted to get up, to do something to master +the gathering fear that was rising in him and against which he felt +himself powerless. He again got out his cigarettes and matches, but only +three matches were left and they were bad ones. The phosphorus rubbed +off them all without lighting. + +'The devil take you! Damned thing! Curse you!' he muttered, not knowing +whom or what he was cursing, and he flung away the crushed cigarette. +He was about to throw away the matchbox too, but checked the movement of +his hand and put the box in his pocket instead. He was seized with such +unrest that he could no longer remain in one spot. He climbed out of the +sledge and standing with his back to the wind began to shift his belt +again, fastening it lower down in the waist and tightening it. + +'What's the use of lying and waiting for death? Better mount the horse +and get away!' The thought suddenly occurred to him. 'The horse will +move when he has someone on his back. As for him,' he thought of +Nikita--'it's all the same to him whether he lives or dies. What is his +life worth? He won't grudge his life, but I have something to live for, +thank God.' + +He untied the horse, threw the reins over his neck and tried to mount, +but his coats and boots were so heavy that he failed. Then he clambered +up in the sledge and tried to mount from there, but the sledge tilted +under his weight, and he failed again. At last he drew Mukhorty nearer +to the sledge, cautiously balanced on one side of it, and managed to +lie on his stomach across the horse's back. After lying like that for a +while he shifted forward once and again, threw a leg over, and finally +seated himself, supporting his feet on the loose breeching-straps. The +shaking of the sledge awoke Nikita. He raised himself, and it seemed to +Vasili Andreevich that he said something. + +'Listen to such fools as you! Am I to die like this for nothing?' +exclaimed Vasili Andreevich. And tucking the loose skirts of his fur +coat in under his knees, he turned the horse and rode away from +the sledge in the direction in which he thought the forest and the +forester's hut must be. + + + +VII + +From the time he had covered himself with the sackcloth and seated +himself behind the sledge, Nikita had not stirred. Like all those who +live in touch with nature and have known want, he was patient and could +wait for hours, even days, without growing restless or irritable. He +heard his master call him, but did not answer because he did not want to +move or talk. Though he still felt some warmth from the tea he had drunk +and from his energetic struggle when clambering about in the snowdrift, +he knew that this warmth would not last long and that he had no strength +left to warm himself again by moving about, for he felt as tired as a +horse when it stops and refuses to go further in spite of the whip, and +its master sees that it must be fed before it can work again. The foot +in the boot with a hole in it had already grown numb, and he could no +longer feel his big toe. Besides that, his whole body began to feel +colder and colder. + +The thought that he might, and very probably would, die that night +occurred to him, but did not seem particularly unpleasant or dreadful. +It did not seem particularly unpleasant, because his whole life had been +not a continual holiday, but on the contrary an unceasing round of +toil of which he was beginning to feel weary. And it did not seem +particularly dreadful, because besides the masters he had served here, +like Vasili Andreevich, he always felt himself dependent on the Chief +Master, who had sent him into this life, and he knew that when dying he +would still be in that Master's power and would not be ill-used by Him. +'It seems a pity to give up what one is used to and accustomed to. But +there's nothing to be done, I shall get used to the new things.' + +'Sins?' he thought, and remembered his drunkenness, the money that had +gone on drink, how he had offended his wife, his cursing, his neglect of +church and of the fasts, and all the things the priest blamed him for +at confession. 'Of course they are sins. But then, did I take them on of +myself? That's evidently how God made me. Well, and the sins? Where am I +to escape to?' + +So at first he thought of what might happen to him that night, and +then did not return to such thoughts but gave himself up to whatever +recollections came into his head of themselves. Now he thought of +Martha's arrival, of the drunkenness among the workers and his own +renunciation of drink, then of their present journey and of Taras's +house and the talk about the breaking-up of the family, then of his own +lad, and of Mukhorty now sheltered under the drugget, and then of his +master who made the sledge creak as he tossed about in it. 'I expect +you're sorry yourself that you started out, dear man,' he thought. 'It +would seem hard to leave a life such as his! It's not like the likes of +us.' + +Then all these recollections began to grow confused and got mixed in his +head, and he fell asleep. + +But when Vasili Andreevich, getting on the horse, jerked the sledge, +against the back of which Nikita was leaning, and it shifted away and +hit him in the back with one of its runners, he awoke and had to change +his position whether he liked it or not. Straightening his legs with +difficulty and shaking the snow off them he got up, and an agonizing +cold immediately penetrated his whole body. On making out what was +happening he called to Vasili Andreevich to leave him the drugget which +the horse no longer needed, so that he might wrap himself in it. + +But Vasili Andreevich did not stop, but disappeared amid the powdery +snow. + +Left alone Nikita considered for a moment what he should do. He felt +that he had not the strength to go off in search of a house. It was no +longer possible to sit down in his old place--it was by now all filled +with snow. He felt that he could not get warmer in the sledge either, +for there was nothing to cover himself with, and his coat and sheepskin +no longer warmed him at all. He felt as cold as though he had nothing on +but a shirt. He became frightened. 'Lord, heavenly Father!' he muttered, +and was comforted by the consciousness that he was not alone but that +there was One who heard him and would not abandon him. He gave a deep +sigh, and keeping the sackcloth over his head he got inside the sledge +and lay down in the place where his master had been. + +But he could not get warm in the sledge either. At first he shivered all +over, then the shivering ceased and little by little he began to lose +consciousness. He did not know whether he was dying or falling asleep, +but felt equally prepared for the one as for the other. + + + +VIII + +Meanwhile Vasili Andreevich, with his feet and the ends of the reins, +urged the horse on in the direction in which for some reason he expected +the forest and forester's hut to be. The snow covered his eyes and the +wind seemed intent on stopping him, but bending forward and constantly +lapping his coat over and pushing it between himself and the cold +harness pad which prevented him from sitting properly, he kept urging +the horse on. Mukhorty ambled on obediently though with difficulty, in +the direction in which he was driven. + +Vasili Andreevich rode for about five minutes straight ahead, as he +thought, seeing nothing but the horse's head and the white waste, and +hearing only the whistle of the wind about the horse's ears and his coat +collar. + +Suddenly a dark patch showed up in front of him. His heart beat with +joy, and he rode towards the object, already seeing in imagination the +walls of village houses. But the dark patch was not stationary, it +kept moving; and it was not a village but some tall stalks of wormwood +sticking up through the snow on the boundary between two fields, and +desperately tossing about under the pressure of the wind which beat +it all to one side and whistled through it. The sight of that wormwood +tormented by the pitiless wind made Vasili Andreevich shudder, he knew +not why, and he hurriedly began urging the horse on, not noticing that +when riding up to the wormwood he had quite changed his direction and +was now heading the opposite way, though still imagining that he was +riding towards where the hut should be. But the horse kept making +towards the right, and Vasili Andreevich kept guiding it to the left. + +Again something dark appeared in front of him. Again he rejoiced, +convinced that now it was certainly a village. But once more it was the +same boundary line overgrown with wormwood, once more the same wormwood +desperately tossed by the wind and carrying unreasoning terror to his +heart. But its being the same wormwood was not all, for beside it +there was a horse's track partly snowed over. Vasili Andreevich stopped, +stooped down and looked carefully. It was a horse-track only partially +covered with snow, and could be none but his own horse's hoofprints. He +had evidently gone round in a small circle. 'I shall perish like that!' +he thought, and not to give way to his terror he urged on the horse +still more, peering into the snowy darkness in which he saw only +flitting and fitful points of light. Once he thought he heard the +barking of dogs or the howling of wolves, but the sounds were so faint +and indistinct that he did not know whether he heard them or merely +imagined them, and he stopped and began to listen intently. + +Suddenly some terrible, deafening cry resounded near his ears, and +everything shivered and shook under him. He seized Mukhorty's neck, +but that too was shaking all over and the terrible cry grew still more +frightful. For some seconds Vasili Andreevich could not collect himself +or understand what was happening. It was only that Mukhorty, whether +to encourage himself or to call for help, had neighed loudly and +resonantly. 'Ugh, you wretch! How you frightened me, damn you!' thought +Vasili Andreevich. But even when he understood the cause of his terror +he could not shake it off. + +'I must calm myself and think things over,' he said to himself, but yet +he could not stop, and continued to urge the horse on, without noticing +that he was now going with the wind instead of against it. His body, +especially between his legs where it touched the pad of the harness and +was not covered by his overcoats, was getting painfully cold, especially +when the horse walked slowly. His legs and arms trembled and his +breathing came fast. He saw himself perishing amid this dreadful snowy +waste, and could see no means of escape. + +Suddenly the horse under him tumbled into something and, sinking into +a snow-drift, began to plunge and fell on his side. Vasili Andreevich +jumped off, and in so doing dragged to one side the breechband on which +his foot was resting, and twisted round the pad to which he held as he +dismounted. As soon as he had jumped off, the horse struggled to his +feet, plunged forward, gave one leap and another, neighed again, and +dragging the drugget and the breechband after him, disappeared, leaving +Vasili Andreevich alone on the snow-drift. + +The latter pressed on after the horse, but the snow lay so deep and +his coats were so heavy that, sinking above his knees at each step, he +stopped breathless after taking not more than twenty steps. 'The copse, +the oxen, the lease-hold, the shop, the tavern, the house with the +iron-roofed barn, and my heir,' thought he. 'How can I leave all that? +What does this mean? It cannot be!' These thoughts flashed through his +mind. Then he thought of the wormwood tossed by the wind, which he had +twice ridden past, and he was seized with such terror that he did not +believe in the reality of what was happening to him. 'Can this be a +dream?' he thought, and tried to wake up but could not. It was real snow +that lashed his face and covered him and chilled his right hand from +which he had lost the glove, and this was a real desert in which he was +now left alone like that wormwood, awaiting an inevitable, speedy, and +meaningless death. + +'Queen of Heaven! Holy Father Nicholas, teacher of temperance!' he +thought, recalling the service of the day before and the holy icon with +its black face and gilt frame, and the tapers which he sold to be set +before that icon and which were almost immediately brought back to him +scarcely burnt at all, and which he put away in the store-chest. He +began to pray to that same Nicholas the Wonder-Worker to save him, +promising him a thanksgiving service and some candles. But he clearly +and indubitably realized that the icon, its frame, the candles, +the priest, and the thanksgiving service, though very important and +necessary in church, could do nothing for him here, and that there was +and could be no connexion between those candles and services and his +present disastrous plight. 'I must not despair,' he thought. 'I must +follow the horse's track before it is snowed under. He will lead me out, +or I may even catch him. Only I must not hurry, or I shall stick fast +and be more lost than ever.' + +But in spite of his resolution to go quietly, he rushed forward and +even ran, continually falling, getting up and falling again. The horse's +track was already hardly visible in places where the snow did not lie +deep. 'I am lost!' thought Vasili Andreevich. 'I shall lose the track +and not catch the horse.' But at that moment he saw something black. It +was Mukhorty, and not only Mukhorty, but the sledge with the shafts +and the kerchief. Mukhorty, with the sacking and the breechband twisted +round to one side, was standing not in his former place but nearer to +the shafts, shaking his head which the reins he was stepping on drew +downwards. It turned out that Vasili Andreevich had sunk in the same +ravine Nikita had previously fallen into, and that Mukhorty had been +bringing him back to the sledge and he had got off his back no more than +fifty paces from where the sledge was. + + + +IX + +Having stumbled back to the sledge Vasili Andreevich caught hold of it +and for a long time stood motionless, trying to calm himself and recover +his breath. Nikita was not in his former place, but something, already +covered with snow, was lying in the sledge and Vasili Andreevich +concluded that this was Nikita. His terror had now quite left him, and +if he felt any fear it was lest the dreadful terror should return that +he had experienced when on the horse and especially when he was left +alone in the snow-drift. At any cost he had to avoid that terror, and +to keep it away he must do something--occupy himself with something. And +the first thing he did was to turn his back to the wind and open his fur +coat. Then, as soon as he recovered his breath a little, he shook the +snow out of his boots and out of his left-hand glove (the right-hand +glove was hopelessly lost and by this time probably lying somewhere +under a dozen inches of snow); then as was his custom when going out of +his shop to buy grain from the peasants, he pulled his girdle low down +and tightened it and prepared for action. The first thing that occurred +to him was to free Mukhorty's leg from the rein. Having done that, and +tethered him to the iron cramp at the front of the sledge where he +had been before, he was going round the horse's quarters to put the +breechband and pad straight and cover him with the cloth, but at that +moment he noticed that something was moving in the sledge and Nikita's +head rose up out of the snow that covered it. Nikita, who was half +frozen, rose with great difficulty and sat up, moving his hand before +his nose in a strange manner just as if he were driving away flies. He +waved his hand and said something, and seemed to Vasili Andreevich to be +calling him. Vasili Andreevich left the cloth unadjusted and went up to +the sledge. + +'What is it?' he asked. 'What are you saying?' + +'I'm dy . . . ing, that's what,' said Nikita brokenly and with +difficulty. 'Give what is owing to me to my lad, or to my wife, no +matter.' + +'Why, are you really frozen?' asked Vasili Andreevich. + +'I feel it's my death. Forgive me for Christ's sake . . .' said Nikita +in a tearful voice, continuing to wave his hand before his face as if +driving away flies. + +Vasili Andreevich stood silent and motionless for half a minute. Then +suddenly, with the same resolution with which he used to strike hands +when making a good purchase, he took a step back and turning up his +sleeves began raking the snow off Nikita and out of the sledge. Having +done this he hurriedly undid his girdle, opened out his fur coat, and +having pushed Nikita down, lay down on top of him, covering him not +only with his fur coat but with the whole of his body, which glowed +with warmth. After pushing the skirts of his coat between Nikita and +the sides of the sledge, and holding down its hem with his knees, Vasili +Andreevich lay like that face down, with his head pressed against the +front of the sledge. Here he no longer heard the horse's movements or +the whistling of the wind, but only Nikita's breathing. At first and for +a long time Nikita lay motionless, then he sighed deeply and moved. + +'There, and you say you are dying! Lie still and get warm, that's our +way . . .' began Vasili Andreevich. + +But to his great surprise he could say no more, for tears came to his +eyes and his lower jaw began to quiver rapidly. He stopped speaking +and only gulped down the risings in his throat. 'Seems I was badly +frightened and have gone quite weak,' he thought. But this weakness was +not only unpleasant, but gave him a peculiar joy such as he had never +felt before. + +'That's our way!' he said to himself, experiencing a strange and solemn +tenderness. He lay like that for a long time, wiping his eyes on the fur +of his coat and tucking under his knee the right skirt, which the wind +kept turning up. + +But he longed so passionately to tell somebody of his joyful condition +that he said: 'Nikita!' + +'It's comfortable, warm!' came a voice from beneath. + +'There, you see, friend, I was going to perish. And you would have been +frozen, and I should have . . .' + +But again his jaws began to quiver and his eyes to fill with tears, and +he could say no more. + +'Well, never mind,' he thought. 'I know about myself what I know.' + +He remained silent and lay like that for a long time. + +Nikita kept him warm from below and his fur coats from above. Only his +hands, with which he kept his coat-skirts down round Nikita's sides, and +his legs which the wind kept uncovering, began to freeze, especially his +right hand which had no glove. But he did not think of his legs or of +his hands but only of how to warm the peasant who was lying under him. +He looked out several times at Mukhorty and could see that his back was +uncovered and the drugget and breeching lying on the snow, and that he +ought to get up and cover him, but he could not bring himself to leave +Nikita and disturb even for a moment the joyous condition he was in. He +no longer felt any kind of terror. + +'No fear, we shan't lose him this time!' he said to himself, referring +to his getting the peasant warm with the same boastfulness with which he +spoke of his buying and selling. + +Vasili Andreevich lay in that way for one hour, another, and a third, +but he was unconscious of the passage of time. At first impressions +of the snow-storm, the sledge-shafts, and the horse with the shaft-bow +shaking before his eyes, kept passing through his mind, then he +remembered Nikita lying under him, then recollections of the festival, +his wife, the police-officer, and the box of candles, began to mingle +with these; then again Nikita, this time lying under that box, then the +peasants, customers and traders, and the white walls of his house with +its iron roof with Nikita lying underneath, presented themselves to +his imagination. Afterwards all these impressions blended into one +nothingness. As the colours of the rainbow unite into one white light, +so all these different impressions mingled into one, and he fell asleep. + +For a long time he slept without dreaming, but just before dawn the +visions recommenced. It seemed to him that he was standing by the box of +tapers and that Tikhon's wife was asking for a five kopek taper for the +Church fete. He wished to take one out and give it to her, but his hands +would not life, being held tight in his pockets. He wanted to walk round +the box but his feet would not move and his new clean goloshes had grown +to the stone floor, and he could neither lift them nor get his feet out +of the goloshes. Then the taper-box was no longer a box but a bed, and +suddenly Vasili Andreevich saw himself lying in his bed at home. He was +lying in his bed and could not get up. Yet it was necessary for him to +get up because Ivan Matveich, the police-officer, would soon call for +him and he had to go with him--either to bargain for the forest or to +put Mukhorty's breeching straight. + +He asked his wife: 'Nikolaevna, hasn't he come yet?' 'No, he hasn't,' +she replied. He heard someone drive up to the front steps. 'It must be +him.' 'No, he's gone past.' 'Nikolaevna! I say, Nikolaevna, isn't he +here yet?' 'No.' He was still lying on his bed and could not get up, but +was always waiting. And this waiting was uncanny and yet joyful. Then +suddenly his joy was completed. He whom he was expecting came; not Ivan +Matveich the police-officer, but someone else--yet it was he whom he had +been waiting for. He came and called him; and it was he who had called +him and told him to lie down on Nikita. And Vasili Andreevich was glad +that that one had come for him. + +'I'm coming!' he cried joyfully, and that cry awoke him, but woke him up +not at all the same person he had been when he fell asleep. He tried to +get up but could not, tried to move his arm and could not, to move his +leg and also could not, to turn his head and could not. He was surprised +but not at all disturbed by this. He understood that this was death, and +was not at all disturbed by that either. + +He remembered that Nikita was lying under him and that he had got warm +and was alive, and it seemed to him that he was Nikita and Nikita was +he, and that his life was not in himself but in Nikita. He strained his +ears and heard Nikita breathing and even slightly snoring. 'Nikita is +alive, so I too am alive!' he said to himself triumphantly. + +And he remembered his money, his shop, his house, the buying and +selling, and Mironov's millions, and it was hard for him to understand +why that man, called Vasili Brekhunov, had troubled himself with all +those things with which he had been troubled. + +'Well, it was because he did not know what the real thing was,' he +thought, concerning that Vasili Brekhunov. 'He did not know, but now I +know and know for sure. Now I know!' And again he heard the voice of +the one who had called him before. 'I'm coming! Coming!' he responded +gladly, and his whole being was filled with joyful emotion. He felt +himself free and that nothing could hold him back any longer. + +After that Vasili Andreevich neither saw, heard, nor felt anything more +in this world. + +All around the snow still eddied. The same whirlwinds of snow circled +about, covering the dead Vasili Andreevich's fur coat, the shivering +Mukhorty, the sledge, now scarcely to be seen, and Nikita lying at the +bottom of it, kept warm beneath his dead master. + + + +X + +Nikita awoke before daybreak. He was aroused by the cold that had begun +to creep down his back. He had dreamt that he was coming from the mill +with a load of his master's flour and when crossing the stream had +missed the bridge and let the cart get stuck. And he saw that he had +crawled under the cart and was trying to lift it by arching his back. +But strange to say the cart did not move, it stuck to his back and he +could neither lift it nor get out from under it. It was crushing the +whole of his loins. And how cold it felt! Evidently he must crawl out. +'Have done!' he exclaimed to whoever was pressing the cart down on him. +'Take out the sacks!' But the cart pressed down colder and colder, +and then he heard a strange knocking, awoke completely, and remembered +everything. The cold cart was his dead and frozen master lying upon him. +And the knock was produced by Mukhorty, who had twice struck the sledge +with his hoof. + +'Andreevich! Eh, Andreevich!' Nikita called cautiously, beginning to +realize the truth, and straightening his back. But Vasili Andreevich did +not answer and his stomach and legs were stiff and cold and heavy like +iron weights. + +'He must have died! May the Kingdom of Heaven be his!' thought Nikita. + +He turned his head, dug with his hand through the snow about him and +opened his eyes. It was daylight; the wind was whistling as before +between the shafts, and the snow was falling in the same way, except +that it was no longer driving against the frame of the sledge but +silently covered both sledge and horse deeper and deeper, and neither +the horse's movements nor his breathing were any longer to be heard. + +'He must have frozen too,' thought Nikita of Mukhorty, and indeed those +hoof knocks against the sledge, which had awakened Nikita, were the last +efforts the already numbed Mukhorty had made to keep on his feet before +dying. + +'O Lord God, it seems Thou art calling me too!' said Nikita. 'Thy Holy +Will be done. But it's uncanny. . . . Still, a man can't die twice and +must die once. If only it would come soon!' + +And he again drew in his head, closed his eyes, and became unconscious, +fully convinced that now he was certainly and finally dying. + + +It was not till noon that day that peasants dug Vasili Andreevich and +Nikita out of the snow with their shovels, not more than seventy yards +from the road and less than half a mile from the village. + +The snow had hidden the sledge, but the shafts and the kerchief tied to +them were still visible. Mukhorty, buried up to his belly in snow, with +the breeching and drugget hanging down, stood all white, his dead head +pressed against his frozen throat: icicles hung from his nostrils, his +eyes were covered with hoar-frost as though filled with tears, and he +had grown so thin in that one night that he was nothing but skin and +bone. + +Vasili Andreevich was stiff as a frozen carcass, and when they rolled +him off Nikita his legs remained apart and his arms stretched out as +they had been. His bulging hawk eyes were frozen, and his open mouth +under his clipped moustache was full of snow. But Nikita though chilled +through was still alive. When he had been brought to, he felt sure +that he was already dead and that what was taking place with him was +no longer happening in this world but in the next. When he heard the +peasants shouting as they dug him out and rolled the frozen body of +Vasili Andreevich from off him, he was at first surprised that in the +other world peasants should be shouting in the same old way and had the +same kind of body, and then when he realized that he was still in this +world he was sorry rather than glad, especially when he found that the +toes on both his feet were frozen. + +Nikita lay in hospital for two months. They cut off three of his toes, +but the others recovered so that he was still able to work and went on +living for another twenty years, first as a farm-labourer, then in his +old age as a watchman. He died at home as he had wished, only this year, +under the icons with a lighted taper in his hands. Before he died he +asked his wife's forgiveness and forgave her for the cooper. He also +took leave of his son and grandchildren, and died sincerely glad that +he was relieving his son and daughter-in-law of the burden of having to +feed him, and that he was now really passing from this life of which +he was weary into that other life which every year and every hour grew +clearer and more desirable to him. Whether he is better or worse off +there where he awoke after his death, whether he was disappointed or +found there what he expected, we shall all soon learn. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Master and Man, by Leo Tolstoy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASTER AND MAN *** + +***** This file should be named 986.txt or 986.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/8/986/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Cossacks + +Author: Leo Tolstoy + +Release Date: December, 2003 [EBook #4761] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on March 13, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE COSSACKS *** + + + + +Steve Harris, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + +THE COSSACKS +A Tale of 1852 + +By Leo Tolstoy (1863) + +Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude + + + + +Chapter I + + +All is quiet in Moscow. The squeak of wheels is seldom heard in +the snow-covered street. There are no lights left in the windows +and the street lamps have been extinguished. Only the sound of +bells, borne over the city from the church towers, suggests the +approach of morning. The streets are deserted. At rare intervals a +night-cabman's sledge kneads up the snow and sand in the street as +the driver makes his way to another corner where he falls asleep +while waiting for a fare. An old woman passes by on her way to +church, where a few wax candles burn with a red light reflected on +the gilt mountings of the icons. Workmen are already getting up +after the long winter night and going to their work--but for the +gentlefolk it is still evening. + +From a window in Chevalier's Restaurant a light--illegal at that +hour--is still to be seen through a chink in the shutter. At the +entrance a carriage, a sledge, and a cabman's sledge, stand close +together with their backs to the curbstone. A three-horse sledge +from the post-station is there also. A yard-porter muffled up and +pinched with cold is sheltering behind the corner of the house. + +'And what's the good of all this jawing?' thinks the footman who +sits in the hall weary and haggard. 'This always happens when I'm +on duty.' From the adjoining room are heard the voices of three +young men, sitting there at a table on which are wine and the +remains of supper. One, a rather plain, thin, neat little man, +sits looking with tired kindly eyes at his friend, who is about to +start on a journey. Another, a tall man, lies on a sofa beside a +table on which are empty bottles, and plays with his watch-key. A +third, wearing a short, fur-lined coat, is pacing up and down the +room stopping now and then to crack an almond between his strong, +rather thick, but well-tended fingers. He keeps smiling at +something and his face and eyes are all aglow. He speaks warmly +and gesticulates, but evidently does not find the words he wants +and those that occur to him seem to him inadequate to express what +has risen to his heart. + + +'Now I can speak out fully,' said the traveller. 'I don't want to +defend myself, but I should like you at least to understand me as +I understand myself, and not look at the matter superficially. You +say I have treated her badly,' he continued, addressing the man +with the kindly eyes who was watching him. + +'Yes, you are to blame,' said the latter, and his look seemed to +express still more kindliness and weariness. + +'I know why you say that,' rejoined the one who was leaving. 'To +be loved is in your opinion as great a happiness as to love, and +if a man obtains it, it is enough for his whole life.' + +'Yes, quite enough, my dear fellow, more than enough!' confirmed +the plain little man, opening and shutting his eyes. + +'But why shouldn't the man love too?' said the traveller +thoughtfully, looking at his friend with something like pity. 'Why +shouldn't one love? Because love doesn't come ... No, to be +beloved is a misfortune. It is a misfortune to feel guilty because +you do not give something you cannot give. O my God!' he added, +with a gesture of his arm. 'If it all happened reasonably, and not +all topsy-turvy--not in our way but in a way of its own! Why, it's +as if I had stolen that love! You think so too, don't deny it. You +must think so. But will you believe it, of all the horrid and +stupid things I have found time to do in my life--and there are +many--this is one I do not and cannot repent of. Neither at the +beginning nor afterwards did I lie to myself or to her. It seemed +to me that I had at last fallen in love, but then I saw that it +was an involuntary falsehood, and that that was not the way to +love, and I could not go on, but she did. Am I to blame that I +couldn't? What was I to do?' + +'Well, it's ended now!' said his friend, lighting a cigar to +master his sleepiness. 'The fact is that you have not yet loved +and do not know what love is.' + +The man in the fur-lined coat was going to speak again, and put +his hands to his head, but could not express what he wanted to +say. + +'Never loved! ... Yes, quite true, I never have! But after all, I +have within me a desire to love, and nothing could be stronger +than that desire! But then, again, does such love exist? There +always remains something incomplete. Ah well! What's the use of +talking? I've made an awful mess of life! But anyhow it's all over +now; you are quite right. And I feel that I am beginning a new +life.' + +'Which you will again make a mess of,' said the man who lay on the +sofa playing with his watch-key. But the traveller did not listen +to him. + +'I am sad and yet glad to go,' he continued. 'Why I am sad I don't +know.' + +And the traveller went on talking about himself, without noticing +that this did not interest the others as much as it did him. A man +is never such an egotist as at moments of spiritual ecstasy. At +such times it seems to him that there is nothing on earth more +splendid and interesting than himself. + +'Dmitri Andreich! The coachman won't wait any longer!' said a +young serf, entering the room in a sheepskin coat, with a scarf +tied round his head. 'The horses have been standing since twelve, +and it's now four o'clock!' + +Dmitri Andreich looked at his serf, Vanyusha. The scarf round +Vanyusha's head, his felt boots and sleepy face, seemed to be +calling his master to a new life of labour, hardship, and +activity. + +'True enough! Good-bye!' said he, feeling for the unfastened hook +and eye on his coat. + +In spite of advice to mollify the coachman by another tip, he put +on his cap and stood in the middle of the room. The friends kissed +once, then again, and after a pause, a third time. The man in the +fur-lined coat approached the table and emptied a champagne glass, +then took the plain little man's hand and blushed. + +'Ah well, I will speak out all the same ... I must and will be +frank with you because I am fond of you ... Of course you love +her--I always thought so--don't you?' + +'Yes,' answered his friend, smiling still more gently. + +'And perhaps...' + +'Please sir, I have orders to put out the candles,' said the +sleepy attendant, who had been listening to the last part of the +conversation and wondering why gentlefolk always talk about one +and the same thing. 'To whom shall I make out the bill? To you, +sir?' he added, knowing whom to address and turning to the tall +man. + +'To me,' replied the tall man. 'How much?' + +'Twenty-six rubles.' + +The tall man considered for a moment, but said nothing and put the +bill in his pocket. + +The other two continued their talk. + +'Good-bye, you are a capital fellow!' said the short plain man +with the mild eyes. Tears filled the eyes of both. They stepped +into the porch. + +'Oh, by the by,' said the traveller, turning with a blush to the +tall man, 'will you settle Chevalier's bill and write and let me +know?' + +'All right, all right!' said the tall man, pulling on his gloves. +'How I envy you!' he added quite unexpectedly when they were out +in the porch. + +The traveller got into his sledge, wrapped his coat about him, and +said: 'Well then, come along!' He even moved a little to make room +in the sledge for the man who said he envied him--his voice +trembled. + +'Good-bye, Mitya! I hope that with God's help you...' said the +tall one. But his wish was that the other would go away quickly, +and so he could not finish the sentence. + +They were silent a moment. Then someone again said, 'Good-bye,' +and a voice cried, 'Ready,' and the coachman touched up the +horses. + +'Hy, Elisar!' One of the friends called out, and the other +coachman and the sledge-drivers began moving, clicking their +tongues and pulling at the reins. Then the stiffened carriage- +wheels rolled squeaking over the frozen snow. + +'A fine fellow, that Olenin!' said one of the friends. 'But what +an idea to go to the Caucasus--as a cadet, too! I wouldn't do it +for anything. ... Are you dining at the club to-morrow?' + +'Yes.' + +They separated. + +The traveller felt warm, his fur coat seemed too hot. He sat on +the bottom of the sledge and unfastened his coat, and the three +shaggy post-horses dragged themselves out of one dark street into +another, past houses he had never before seen. It seemed to Olenin +that only travellers starting on a long journey went through those +streets. All was dark and silent and dull around him, but his soul +was full of memories, love, regrets, and a pleasant tearful +feeling. + + + + +Chapter II + + +'I'm fond of them, very fond! ... First-rate fellows! ... Fine!' +he kept repeating, and felt ready to cry. But why he wanted to +cry, who were the first-rate fellows he was so fond of--was more +than he quite knew. Now and then he looked round at some house and +wondered why it was so curiously built; sometimes he began +wondering why the post-boy and Vanyusha, who were so different +from himself, sat so near, and together with him were being jerked +about and swayed by the tugs the side-horses gave at the frozen +traces, and again he repeated: 'First rate ... very fond!' and +once he even said: 'And how it seizes one ... excellent!' and +wondered what made him say it. 'Dear me, am I drunk?' he asked +himself. He had had a couple of bottles of wine, but it was not +the wine alone that was having this effect on Olenin. He +remembered all the words of friendship heartily, bashfully, +spontaneously (as he believed) addressed to him on his departure. +He remembered the clasp of hands, glances, the moments of silence, +and the sound of a voice saying, 'Good-bye, Mitya!' when he was +already in the sledge. He remembered his own deliberate frankness. +And all this had a touching significance for him. Not only friends +and relatives, not only people who had been indifferent to him, +but even those who did not like him, seemed to have agreed to +become fonder of him, or to forgive him, before his departure, as +people do before confession or death. 'Perhaps I shall not return +from the Caucasus,' he thought. And he felt that he loved his +friends and some one besides. He was sorry for himself. But it was +not love for his friends that so stirred and uplifted his heart +that he could not repress the meaningless words that seemed to +rise of themselves to his lips; nor was it love for a woman (he +had never yet been in love) that had brought on this mood. Love +for himself, love full of hope--warm young love for all that was +good in his own soul (and at that moment it seemed to him that +there was nothing but good in it)--compelled him to weep and to +mutter incoherent words. + +Olenin was a youth who had never completed his university course, +never served anywhere (having only a nominal post in some +government office or other), who had squandered half his fortune +and had reached the age of twenty-four without having done +anything or even chosen a career. He was what in Moscow society is +termed un jeune homme. + +At the age of eighteen he was free--as only rich young Russians in +the 'forties who had lost their parents at an early age could be. +Neither physical nor moral fetters of any kind existed for him; he +could do as he liked, lacking nothing and bound by nothing. +Neither relatives, nor fatherland, nor religion, nor wants, +existed for him. He believed in nothing and admitted nothing. But +although he believed in nothing he was not a morose or blase young +man, nor self-opinionated, but on the contrary continually let +himself be carried away. He had come to the conclusion that there +is no such thing as love, yet his heart always overflowed in the +presence of any young and attractive woman. He had long been aware +that honours and position were nonsense, yet involuntarily he felt +pleased when at a ball Prince Sergius came up and spoke to him +affably. But he yielded to his impulses only in so far as they did +not limit his freedom. As soon as he had yielded to any influence +and became conscious of its leading on to labour and struggle, he +instinctively hastened to free himself from the feeling or +activity into which he was being drawn and to regain his freedom. +In this way he experimented with society-life, the civil service, +farming, music--to which at one time he intended to devote his +life--and even with the love of women in which he did not believe. +He meditated on the use to which he should devote that power of +youth which is granted to man only once in a lifetime: that force +which gives a man the power of making himself, or even--as it +seemed to him--of making the universe, into anything he wishes: +should it be to art, to science, to love of woman, or to practical +activities? It is true that some people are devoid of this +impulse, and on entering life at once place their necks under the +first yoke that offers itself and honestly labour under it for the +rest of their lives. But Olenin was too strongly conscious of the +presence of that all-powerful God of Youth--of that capacity to be +entirely transformed into an aspiration or idea--the capacity to +wish and to do--to throw oneself headlong into a bottomless abyss +without knowing why or wherefore. He bore this consciousness +within himself, was proud of it and, without knowing it, was happy +in that consciousness. Up to that time he had loved only himself, +and could not help loving himself, for he expected nothing but +good of himself and had not yet had time to be disillusioned. On +leaving Moscow he was in that happy state of mind in which a young +man, conscious of past mistakes, suddenly says to himself, 'That +was not the real thing.' All that had gone before was accidental +and unimportant. Till then he had not really tried to live, but +now with his departure from Moscow a new life was beginning--a +life in which there would be no mistakes, no remorse, and +certainly nothing but happiness. + +It is always the case on a long journey that till the first two or +three stages have been passed imagination continues to dwell on +the place left behind, but with the first morning on the road it +leaps to the end of the journey and there begins building castles +in the air. So it happened to Olenin. + +After leaving the town behind, he gazed at the snowy fields and +felt glad to be alone in their midst. Wrapping himself in his fur +coat, he lay at the bottom of the sledge, became tranquil, and +fell into a doze. The parting with his friends had touched him +deeply, and memories of that last winter spent in Moscow and +images of the past, mingled with vague thoughts and regrets, rose +unbidden in his imagination. + +He remembered the friend who had seen him off and his relations +with the girl they had talked about. The girl was rich. "How could +he love her knowing that she loved me?" thought he, and evil +suspicions crossed his mind. "There is much dishonesty in men when +one comes to reflect." Then he was confronted by the question: +"But really, how is it I have never been in love? Every one tells +me that I never have. Can it be that I am a moral monstrosity?" +And he began to recall all his infatuations. He recalled his entry +into society, and a friend's sister with whom he spent several +evenings at a table with a lamp on it which lit up her slender +fingers busy with needlework, and the lower part of her pretty +delicate face. He recalled their conversations that dragged on +like the game in which one passes on a stick which one keeps +alight as long as possible, and the general awkwardness and +restraint and his continual feeling of rebellion at all that +conventionality. Some voice had always whispered: "That's not it, +that's not it," and so it had proved. Then he remembered a ball +and the mazurka he danced with the beautiful D----. "How much in +love I was that night and how happy! And how hurt and vexed I was +next morning when I woke and felt myself still free! Why does not +love come and bind me hand and foot?" thought he. "No, there is no +such thing as love! That neighbour who used to tell me, as she +told Dubrovin and the Marshal, that she loved the stars, was not +IT either." And now his farming and work in the country recurred +to his mind, and in those recollections also there was nothing to +dwell on with pleasure. "Will they talk long of my departure?" +came into his head; but who "they" were he did not quite know. +Next came a thought that made him wince and mutter incoherently. +It was the recollection of M. Cappele the tailor, and the six +hundred and seventy-eight rubles he still owed him, and he +recalled the words in which he had begged him to wait another +year, and the look of perplexity and resignation which had +appeared on the tailor's face. 'Oh, my God, my God!' he repeated, +wincing and trying to drive away the intolerable thought. 'All the +same and in spite of everything she loved me,' thought he of the +girl they had talked about at the farewell supper. 'Yes, had I +married her I should not now be owing anything, and as it is I am +in debt to Vasilyev.' Then he remembered the last night he had +played with Vasilyev at the club (just after leaving her), and he +recalled his humiliating requests for another game and the other's +cold refusal. 'A year's economizing and they will all be paid, and +the devil take them!'... But despite this assurance he again began +calculating his outstanding debts, their dates, and when he could +hope to pay them off. 'And I owe something to Morell as well as to +Chevalier,' thought he, recalling the night when he had run up so +large a debt. It was at a carousel at the gipsies arranged by some +fellows from Petersburg: Sashka B---, an aide-de-camp to the Tsar, +Prince D---, and that pompous old----. 'How is it those gentlemen +are so self-satisfied?' thought he, 'and by what right do they +form a clique to which they think others must be highly flattered +to be admitted? Can it be because they are on the Emperor's staff? +Why, it's awful what fools and scoundrels they consider other +people to be! But I showed them that I at any rate, on the +contrary, do not at all want their intimacy. All the same, I fancy +Andrew, the steward, would be amazed to know that I am on familiar +terms with a man like Sashka B---, a colonel and an aide-de-camp +to the Tsar! Yes, and no one drank more than I did that evening, +and I taught the gipsies a new song and everyone listened to it. +Though I have done many foolish things, all the same I am a very +good fellow,' thought he. + +Morning found him at the third post-stage. He drank tea, and +himself helped Vanyusha to move his bundles and trunks and sat +down among them, sensible, erect, and precise, knowing where all +his belongings were, how much money he had and where it was, where +he had put his passport and the post-horse requisition and toll- +gate papers, and it all seemed to him so well arranged that he +grew quite cheerful and the long journey before him seemed an +extended pleasure-trip. + +All that morning and noon he was deep in calculations of how many +versts he had travelled, how many remained to the next stage, how +many to the next town, to the place where he would dine, to the +place where he would drink tea, and to Stavropol, and what +fraction of the whole journey was already accomplished. He also +calculated how much money he had with him, how much would be left +over, how much would pay off all his debts, and what proportion of +his income he would spend each month. Towards evening, after tea, +he calculated that to Stavropol there still remained seven- +elevenths of the whole journey, that his debts would require seven +months' economy and one-eighth of his whole fortune; and then, +tranquillized, he wrapped himself up, lay down in the sledge, and +again dozed off. His imagination was now turned to the future: to +the Caucasus. All his dreams of the future were mingled with +pictures of Amalat-Beks, Circassian women, mountains, precipices, +terrible torrents, and perils. All these things were vague and +dim, but the love of fame and the danger of death furnished the +interest of that future. Now, with unprecedented courage and a +strength that amazed everyone, he slew and subdued an innumerable +host of hillsmen; now he was himself a hillsman and with them was +maintaining their independence against the Russians. As soon as he +pictured anything definite, familiar Moscow figures always +appeared on the scene. Sashka B---fights with the Russians or the +hillsmen against him. Even the tailor Cappele in some strange way +takes part in the conqueror's triumph. Amid all this he remembered +his former humiliations, weaknesses, and mistakes, and the +recollection was not disagreeable. It was clear that there among +the mountains, waterfalls, fair Circassians, and dangers, such +mistakes could not recur. Having once made full confession to +himself there was an end of it all. One other vision, the sweetest +of them all, mingled with the young man's every thought of the +future--the vision of a woman. + +And there, among the mountains, she appeared to his imagination as +a Circassian slave, a fine figure with a long plait of hair and +deep submissive eyes. He pictured a lonely hut in the mountains, +and on the threshold she stands awaiting him when, tired and +covered with dust, blood, and fame, he returns to her. He is +conscious of her kisses, her shoulders, her sweet voice, and her +submissiveness. She is enchanting, but uneducated, wild, and +rough. In the long winter evenings he begins her education. She is +clever and gifted and quickly acquires all the knowledge +essential. Why not? She can quite easily learn foreign languages, +read the French masterpieces and understand them: Notre Dame de +Paris, for instance, is sure to please her. She can also speak +French. In a drawing-room she can show more innate dignity than a +lady of the highest society. She can sing, simply, powerfully, and +passionately.... 'Oh, what nonsense!' said he to himself. But here +they reached a post-station and he had to change into another +sledge and give some tips. But his fancy again began searching for +the 'nonsense' he had relinquished, and again fair Circassians, +glory, and his return to Russia with an appointment as aide-de- +camp and a lovely wife rose before his imagination. 'But there's +no such thing as love,' said he to himself. 'Fame is all rubbish. +But the six hundred and seventy-eight rubles? ... And the +conquered land that will bring me more wealth than I need for a +lifetime? It will not be right though to keep all that wealth for +myself. I shall have to distribute it. But to whom? Well, six +hundred and seventy-eight rubles to Cappele and then we'll see.' +... Quite vague visions now cloud his mind, and only Vanyusha's +voice and the interrupted motion of the sledge break his healthy +youthful slumber. Scarcely conscious, he changes into another +sledge at the next stage and continues his journey. + +Next morning everything goes on just the same: the same kind of +post-stations and tea-drinking, the same moving horses' cruppers, +the same short talks with Vanyusha, the same vague dreams and +drowsiness, and the same tired, healthy, youthful sleep at night. + + + + +Chapter III + + +The farther Olenin travelled from Central Russia the farther he +left his memories behind, and the nearer he drew to the Caucasus +the lighter his heart became. "I'll stay away for good and never +return to show myself in society," was a thought that sometimes +occurred to him. "These people whom I see here are NOT people. +None of them know me and none of them can ever enter the Moscow +society I was in or find out about my past. And no one in that +society will ever know what I am doing, living among these +people." And quite a new feeling of freedom from his whole past +came over him among the rough beings he met on the road whom he +did not consider to be PEOPLE in the sense that his Moscow +acquaintances were. The rougher the people and the fewer the signs +of civilization the freer he felt. Stavropol, through which he had +to pass, irked him. The signboards, some of them even in French, +ladies in carriages, cabs in the marketplace, and a gentleman +wearing a fur cloak and tall hat who was walking along the +boulevard and staring at the passersby, quite upset him. "Perhaps +these people know some of my acquaintances," he thought; and the +club, his tailor, cards, society ... came back to his mind. But +after Stavropol everything was satisfactory--wild and also +beautiful and warlike, and Olenin felt happier and happier. All +the Cossacks, post-boys, and post-station masters seemed to him +simple folk with whom he could jest and converse simply, without +having to consider to what class they belonged. They all belonged +to the human race which, without his thinking about it, all +appeared dear to Olenin, and they all treated him in a friendly +way. + +Already in the province of the Don Cossacks his sledge had been +exchanged for a cart, and beyond Stavropol it became so warm that +Olenin travelled without wearing his fur coat. It was already +spring--an unexpected joyous spring for Olenin. At night he was no +longer allowed to leave the Cossack villages, and they said it was +dangerous to travel in the evening. Vanyusha began to be uneasy, +and they carried a loaded gun in the cart. Olenin became still +happier. At one of the post-stations the post-master told of a +terrible murder that had been committed recently on the high road. +They began to meet armed men. "So this is where it begins!" +thought Olenin, and kept expecting to see the snowy mountains of +which mention was so often made. Once, towards evening, the Nogay +driver pointed with his whip to the mountains shrouded in clouds. +Olenin looked eagerly, but it was dull and the mountains were +almost hidden by the clouds. Olenin made out something grey and +white and fleecy, but try as he would he could find nothing +beautiful in the mountains of which he had so often read and +heard. The mountains and the clouds appeared to him quite alike, +and he thought the special beauty of the snow peaks, of which he +had so often been told, was as much an invention as Bach's music +and the love of women, in which he did not believe. So he gave up +looking forward to seeing the mountains. But early next morning, +being awakened in his cart by the freshness of the air, he glanced +carelessly to the right. The morning was perfectly clear. Suddenly +he saw, about twenty paces away as it seemed to him at first +glance, pure white gigantic masses with delicate contours, the +distinct fantastic outlines of their summits showing sharply +against the far-off sky. When he had realized the distance between +himself and them and the sky and the whole immensity of the +mountains, and felt the infinitude of all that beauty, he became +afraid that it was but a phantasm or a dream. He gave himself a +shake to rouse himself, but the mountains were still the same. + +"What's that! What is it?" he said to the driver. + +"Why, the mountains," answered the Nogay driver with indifference. + +"And I too have been looking at them for a long while," said +Vanyusha. "Aren't they fine? They won't believe it at home." + +The quick progress of the three-horsed cart along the smooth road +caused the mountains to appear to be running along the horizon, +while their rosy crests glittered in the light of the rising sun. +At first Olenin was only astonished at the sight, then gladdened +by it; but later on, gazing more and more intently at that snow- +peaked chain that seemed to rise not from among other black +mountains, but straight out of the plain, and to glide away into +the distance, he began by slow degrees to be penetrated by their +beauty and at length to FEEL the mountains. From that moment all +he saw, all he thought, and all he felt, acquired for him a new +character, sternly majestic like the mountains! All his Moscow +reminiscences, shame, and repentance, and his trivial dreams about +the Caucasus, vanished and did not return. 'Now it has begun,' a +solemn voice seemed to say to him. The road and the Terek, just +becoming visible in the distance, and the Cossack villages and the +people, all no longer appeared to him as a joke. He looked at +himself or Vanyusha, and again thought of the mountains. ... Two +Cossacks ride by, their guns in their cases swinging rhythmically +behind their backs, the white and bay legs of their horses +mingling confusedly ... and the mountains! Beyond the Terek rises +the smoke from a Tartar village... and the mountains! The sun has +risen and glitters on the Terek, now visible beyond the reeds ... +and the mountains! From the village comes a Tartar wagon, and +women, beautiful young women, pass by... and the mountains! +'Abreks canter about the plain, and here am I driving along and do +not fear them! I have a gun, and strength, and youth... and the +mountains!' + + + + +Chapter IV + + +That whole part of the Terek line (about fifty miles) along which +lie the villages of the Grebensk Cossacks is uniform in character +both as to country and inhabitants. The Terek, which separates the +Cossacks from the mountaineers, still flows turbid and rapid +though already broad and smooth, always depositing greyish sand on +its low reedy right bank and washing away the steep, though not +high, left bank, with its roots of century-old oaks, its rotting +plane trees, and young brushwood. On the right bank lie the +villages of pro-Russian, though still somewhat restless, Tartars. +Along the left bank, back half a mile from the river and standing +five or six miles apart from one another, are Cossack villages. In +olden times most of these villages were situated on the banks of +the river; but the Terek, shifting northward from the mountains +year by year, washed away those banks, and now there remain only +the ruins of the old villages and of the gardens of pear and plum +trees and poplars, all overgrown with blackberry bushes and wild +vines. No one lives there now, and one only sees the tracks of the +deer, the wolves, the hares, and the pheasants, who have learned +to love these places. From village to village runs a road cut +through the forest as a cannon-shot might fly. Along the roads are +cordons of Cossacks and watch-towers with sentinels in them. Only +a narrow strip about seven hundred yards wide of fertile wooded +soil belongs to the Cossacks. To the north of it begin the sand- +drifts of the Nogay or Mozdok steppes, which fetch far to the +north and run, Heaven knows where, into the Trukhmen, Astrakhan, +and Kirghiz-Kaisatsk steppes. To the south, beyond the Terek, are +the Great Chechnya river, the Kochkalov range, the Black +Mountains, yet another range, and at last the snowy mountains, +which can just be seen but have never yet been scaled. In this +fertile wooded strip, rich in vegetation, has dwelt as far back as +memory runs the fine warlike and prosperous Russian tribe +belonging to the sect of Old Believers, and called the Grebensk +Cossacks. + +Long long ago their Old Believer ancestors fled from Russia and +settled beyond the Terek among the Chechens on the Greben, the +first range of wooded mountains of Chechnya. Living among the +Chechens the Cossacks intermarried with them and adopted the +manners and customs of the hill tribes, though they still retained +the Russian language in all its purity, as well as their Old +Faith. A tradition, still fresh among them, declares that Tsar +Ivan the Terrible came to the Terek, sent for their Elders, and +gave them the land on this side of the river, exhorting them to +remain friendly to Russia and promising not to enforce his rule +upon them nor oblige them to change their faith. Even now the +Cossack families claim relationship with the Chechens, and the +love of freedom, of leisure, of plunder and of war, still form +their chief characteristics. Only the harmful side of Russian +influence shows itself--by interference at elections, by +confiscation of church bells, and by the troops who are quartered +in the country or march through it. A Cossack is inclined to hate +less the dzhigit hillsman who maybe has killed his brother, than +the soldier quartered on him to defend his village, but who has +defiled his hut with tobacco-smoke. He respects his enemy the +hillsman and despises the soldier, who is in his eyes an alien and +an oppressor. In reality, from a Cossack's point of view a Russian +peasant is a foreign, savage, despicable creature, of whom he sees +a sample in the hawkers who come to the country and in the +Ukrainian immigrants whom the Cossack contemptuously calls +'woolbeaters'. For him, to be smartly dressed means to be dressed +like a Circassian. The best weapons are obtained from the hillsmen +and the best horses are bought, or stolen, from them. A dashing +young Cossack likes to show off his knowledge of Tartar, and when +carousing talks Tartar even to his fellow Cossack. In spite of all +these things this small Christian clan stranded in a tiny comer of +the earth, surrounded by half-savage Mohammedan tribes and by +soldiers, considers itself highly advanced, acknowledges none but +Cossacks as human beings, and despises everybody else. The Cossack +spends most of his time in the cordon, in action, or in hunting +and fishing. He hardly ever works at home. When he stays in the +village it is an exception to the general rule and then he is +holiday-making. All Cossacks make their own wine, and drunkenness +is not so much a general tendency as a rite, the non-fulfilment of +which would be considered apostasy. The Cossack looks upon a woman +as an instrument for his welfare; only the unmarried girls are +allowed to amuse themselves. A married woman has to work for her +husband from youth to very old age: his demands on her are the +Oriental ones of submission and labour. In consequence of this +outlook women are strongly developed both physically and mentally, +and though they are--as everywhere in the East--nominally in +subjection, they possess far greater influence and importance in +family-life than Western women. Their exclusion from public life +and inurement to heavy male labour give the women all the more +power and importance in the household. A Cossack, who before +strangers considers it improper to speak affectionately or +needlessly to his wife, when alone with her is involuntarily +conscious of her superiority. His house and all his property, in +fact the entire homestead, has been acquired and is kept together +solely by her labour and care. Though firmly convinced that labour +is degrading to a Cossack and is only proper for a Nogay labourer +or a woman, he is vaguely aware of the fact that all he makes use +of and calls his own is the result of that toil, and that it is in +the power of the woman (his mother or his wife) whom he considers +his slave, to deprive him of all he possesses. Besides, the +continuous performance of man's heavy work and the +responsibilities entrusted to her have endowed the Grebensk women +with a peculiarly independent masculine character and have +remarkably developed their physical powers, common sense, +resolution, and stability. The women are in most cases stronger, +more intelligent, more developed, and handsomer than the men. A +striking feature of a Grebensk woman's beauty is the combination +of the purest Circassian type of face with the broad and powerful +build of Northern women. Cossack women wear the Circassian dress-- +a Tartar smock, beshmet, and soft slippers--but they tie their +kerchiefs round their heads in the Russian fashion. Smartness, +cleanliness and elegance in dress and in the arrangement of their +huts, are with them a custom and a necessity. In their relations +with men the women, and especially the unmarried girls, enjoy +perfect freedom. + +Novomlinsk village was considered the very heart of Grebensk +Cossackdom. In it more than elsewhere the customs of the old +Grebensk population have been preserved, and its women have from +time immemorial been renowned all over the Caucasus for their +beauty. A Cossack's livelihood is derived from vineyards, fruit- +gardens, water melon and pumpkin plantations, from fishing, +hunting, maize and millet growing, and from war plunder. +Novomlinsk village lies about two and a half miles away from the +Terek, from which it is separated by a dense forest. On one side +of the road which runs through the village is the river; on the +other, green vineyards and orchards, beyond which are seen the +driftsands of the Nogay Steppe. The village is surrounded by +earth-banks and prickly bramble hedges, and is entered by tall +gates hung between posts and covered with little reed-thatched +roofs. Beside them on a wooden gun-carriage stands an unwieldy +cannon captured by the Cossacks at some time or other, and which +has not been fired for a hundred years. A uniformed Cossack +sentinel with dagger and gun sometimes stands, and sometimes does +not stand, on guard beside the gates, and sometimes presents arms +to a passing officer and sometimes does not. Below the roof of the +gateway is written in black letters on a white board: 'Houses 266: +male inhabitants 897: female 1012.' The Cossacks' houses are all +raised on pillars two and a half feet from the ground. They are +carefully thatched with reeds and have large carved gables. If not +new they are at least all straight and clean, with high porches of +different shapes; and they are not built close together but have +ample space around them, and are all picturesquely placed along +broad streets and lanes. In front of the large bright windows of +many of the houses, beyond the kitchen gardens, dark green poplars +and acacias with their delicate pale verdure and scented white +blossoms overtop the houses, and beside them grow flaunting yellow +sunflowers, creepers, and grape vines. In the broad open square +are three shops where drapery, sunflower and pumpkin seeds, locust +beans and gingerbreads are sold; and surrounded by a tall fence, +loftier and larger than the other houses, stands the Regimental +Commander's dwelling with its casement windows, behind a row of +tall poplars. Few people are to be seen in the streets of the +village on weekdays, especially in summer. The young men are on +duty in the cordons or on military expeditions; the old ones are +fishing or helping the women in the orchards and gardens. Only the +very old, the sick, and the children, remain at home. + + + + +Chapter V + + +It was one of those wonderful evenings that occur only in the +Caucasus. The sun had sunk behind the mountains but it was still +light. The evening glow had spread over a third of the sky, and +against its brilliancy the dull white immensity of the mountains +was sharply defined. The air was rarefied, motionless, and full of +sound. The shadow of the mountains reached for several miles over +the steppe. The steppe, the opposite side of the river, and the +roads, were all deserted. If very occasionally mounted men +appeared, the Cossacks in the cordon and the Chechens in their +aouls (villages) watched them with surprised curiosity and tried +to guess who those questionable men could be. At nightfall people +from fear of one another flock to their dwellings, and only birds +and beasts fearless of man prowl in those deserted spaces. Talking +merrily, the women who have been tying up the vines hurry away +from the gardens before sunset. The vineyards, like all the +surrounding district, are deserted, but the villages become very +animated at that time of the evening. From all sides, walking, +riding, or driving in their creaking carts, people move towards +the village. Girls with their smocks tucked up and twigs in their +hands run chatting merrily to the village gates to meet the cattle +that are crowding together in a cloud of dust and mosquitoes which +they bring with them from the steppe. The well-fed cows and +buffaloes disperse at a run all over the streets and Cossack women +in coloured beshmets go to and fro among them. You can hear their +merry laughter and shrieks mingling with the lowing of the cattle. +There an armed and mounted Cossack, on leave from the cordon, +rides up to a hut and, leaning towards the window, knocks. In +answer to the knock the handsome head of a young woman appears at +the window and you can hear caressing, laughing voices. There a +tattered Nogay labourer, with prominent cheekbones, brings a load +of reeds from the steppes, turns his creaking cart into the +Cossack captain's broad and clean courtyard, and lifts the yoke +off the oxen that stand tossing their heads while he and his +master shout to one another in Tartar. Past a puddle that reaches +nearly across the street, a barefooted Cossack woman with a bundle +of firewood on her back makes her laborious way by clinging to the +fences, holding her smock high and exposing her white legs. A +Cossack returning from shooting calls out in jest: 'Lift it +higher, shameless thing!' and points his gun at her. The woman +lets down her smock and drops the wood. An old Cossack, returning +home from fishing with his trousers tucked up and his hairy grey +chest uncovered, has a net across his shoulder containing silvery +fish that are still struggling; and to take a short cut climbs +over his neighbour's broken fence and gives a tug to his coat +which has caught on the fence. There a woman is dragging a dry +branch along and from round the corner comes the sound of an axe. +Cossack children, spinning their tops wherever there is a smooth +place in the street, are shrieking; women are climbing over fences +to avoid going round. From every chimney rises the odorous kisyak +smoke. From every homestead comes the sound of increased bustle, +precursor to the stillness of night. + +Granny Ulitka, the wife of the Cossack cornet who is also teacher +in the regimental school, goes out to the gates of her yard like +the other women, and waits for the cattle which her daughter +Maryanka is driving along the street. Before she has had time +fully to open the wattle gate in the fence, an enormous buffalo +cow surrounded by mosquitoes rushes up bellowing and squeezes in. +Several well-fed cows slowly follow her, their large eyes gazing +with recognition at their mistress as they swish their sides with +their tails. The beautiful and shapely Maryanka enters at the gate +and throwing away her switch quickly slams the gate to and rushes +with all the speed of her nimble feet to separate and drive the +cattle into their sheds. 'Take off your slippers, you devil's +wench!' shouts her mother, 'you've worn them into holes!' Maryanka +is not at all offended at being called a 'devil's wench', but +accepting it as a term of endearment cheerfully goes on with her +task. Her face is covered with a kerchief tied round her head. She +is wearing a pink smock and a green beshmet. She disappears inside +the lean-to shed in the yard, following the big fat cattle; and +from the shed comes her voice as she speaks gently and +persuasively to the buffalo: 'Won't she stand still? What a +creature! Come now, come old dear!' Soon the girl and the old +woman pass from the shed to the dairy carrying two large pots of +milk, the day's yield. From the dairy chimney rises a thin cloud +of kisyak smoke: the milk is being used to make into clotted +cream. The girl makes up the fire while her mother goes to the +gate. Twilight has fallen on the village. The air is full of the +smell of vegetables, cattle, and scented kisyak smoke. From the +gates and along the streets Cossack women come running, carrying +lighted rags. From the yards one hears the snorting and quiet +chewing of the cattle eased of their milk, while in the street +only the voices of women and children sound as they call to one +another. It is rare on a week-day to hear the drunken voice of a +man. + +One of the Cossack wives, a tall, masculine old woman, approaches +Granny Ulitka from the homestead opposite and asks her for a +light. In her hand she holds a rag. + +'Have you cleared up. Granny?' + +'The girl is lighting the fire. Is it fire you want?' says Granny +Ulitka, proud of being able to oblige her neighbour. + +Both women enter the hut, and coarse hands unused to dealing with +small articles tremblingly lift the lid of a matchbox, which is a +rarity in the Caucasus. The masculine-looking new-comer sits down +on the doorstep with the evident intention of having a chat. + +'And is your man at the school. Mother?' she asked. + +'He's always teaching the youngsters. Mother. But he writes that +he'll come home for the holidays,' said the cornet's wife. + +'Yes, he's a clever man, one sees; it all comes useful.' + +'Of course it does.' + +'And my Lukashka is at the cordon; they won't let him come home,' +said the visitor, though the cornet's wife had known all this long +ago. She wanted to talk about her Lukashka whom she had lately +fitted out for service in the Cossack regiment, and whom she +wished to marry to the cornet's daughter, Maryanka. + +'So he's at the cordon?' + +'He is. Mother. He's not been home since last holidays. The other +day I sent him some shirts by Fomushkin. He says he's all right, +and that his superiors are satisfied. He says they are looking out +for abreks again. Lukashka is quite happy, he says.' + +'Ah well, thank God,' said the cornet's wife.' "Snatcher" is +certainly the only word for him.' Lukashka was surnamed 'the +Snatcher' because of his bravery in snatching a boy from a watery +grave, and the cornet's wife alluded to this, wishing in her turn +to say something agreeable to Lukashka's mother. + +'I thank God, Mother, that he's a good son! He's a fine fellow, +everyone praises him,' says Lukashka's mother. 'All I wish is to +get him married; then I could die in peace.' + +'Well, aren't there plenty of young women in the village?' +answered the cornet's wife slyly as she carefully replaced the lid +of the matchbox with her horny hands. + +'Plenty, Mother, plenty,' remarked Lukashka's mother, shaking her +head. 'There's your girl now, your Maryanka--that's the sort of +girl! You'd have to search through the whole place to find such +another!' The cornet's wife knows what Lukashka's mother is after, +but though she believes him to be a good Cossack she hangs back: +first because she is a cornet's wife and rich, while Lukashka is +the son of a simple Cossack and fatherless, secondly because she +does not want to part with her daughter yet, but chiefly because +propriety demands it. + +'Well, when Maryanka grows up she'll be marriageable too,' she +answers soberly and modestly. + +'I'll send the matchmakers to you--I'll send them! Only let me get +the vineyard done and then we'll come and make our bows to you,' +says Lukashka's mother. 'And we'll make our bows to Elias Vasilich +too.' + +'Elias, indeed!' says the cornet's wife proudly. 'It's to me you +must speak! All in its own good time.' + +Lukashka's mother sees by the stern face of the cornet's wife that +it is not the time to say anything more just now, so she lights +her rag with the match and says, rising: 'Don't refuse us, think +of my words. I'll go, it is time to light the fire.' + +As she crosses the road swinging the burning rag, she meets +Maryanka, who bows. + +'Ah, she's a regular queen, a splendid worker, that girl!' she +thinks, looking at the beautiful maiden. 'What need for her to +grow any more? It's time she was married and to a good home; +married to Lukashka!' + +But Granny Ulitka had her own cares and she remained sitting on +the threshold thinking hard about something, till the girl called +her. + + + + +Chapter VI + + +The male population of the village spend their time on military +expeditions and in the cordon--or 'at their posts', as the +Cossacks say. Towards evening, that same Lukashka the Snatcher, +about whom the old women had been talking, was standing on a +watch-tower of the Nizhni-Prototsk post situated on the very banks +of the Terek. Leaning on the railing of the tower and screwing up +his eyes, he looked now far into the distance beyond the Terek, +now down at his fellow Cossacks, and occasionally he addressed the +latter. The sun was already approaching the snowy range that +gleamed white above the fleecy clouds. The clouds undulating at +the base of the mountains grew darker and darker. The clearness of +evening was noticeable in the air. A sense of freshness came from +the woods, though round the post it was still hot. The voices of +the talking Cossacks vibrated more sonorously than before. The +moving mass of the Terek's rapid brown waters contrasted more +vividly with its motionless banks. The waters were beginning to +subside and here and there the wet sands gleamed drab on the banks +and in the shallows. The other side of the river, just opposite +the cordon, was deserted; only an immense waste of low-growing +reeds stretched far away to the very foot of the mountains. On the +low bank, a little to one side, could be seen the flat-roofed clay +houses and the funnel-shaped chimneys of a Chechen village. The +sharp eyes of the Cossack who stood on the watch-tower followed, +through the evening smoke of the pro-Russian village, the tiny +moving figures of the Chechen women visible in the distance in +their red and blue garments. + +Although the Cossacks expected abreks to cross over and attack +them from the Tartar side at any moment, especially as it was May +when the woods by the Terek are so dense that it is difficult to +pass through them on foot and the river is shallow enough in +places for a horseman to ford it, and despite the fact that a +couple of days before a Cossack had arrived with a circular from +the commander of the regiment announcing that spies had reported +the intention of a party of some eight men to cross the Terek, and +ordering special vigilance--no special vigilance was being +observed in the cordon. The Cossacks, unarmed and with their +horses unsaddled just as if they were at home, spent their time +some in fishing, some in drinking, and some in hunting. Only the +horse of the man on duty was saddled, and with its feet hobbled +was moving about by the brambles near the wood, and only the +sentinel had his Circassian coat on and carried a gun and sword. +The corporal, a tall thin Cossack with an exceptionally long back +and small hands and feet, was sitting on the earth-bank of a hut +with his beshmet unbuttoned. On his face was the lazy, bored +expression of a superior, and having shut his eyes he dropped his +head upon the palm first of one hand and then of the other. An +elderly Cossack with a broad greyish-black beard was lying in his +shirt, girdled with a black strap, close to the river and gazing +lazily at the waves of the Terek as they monotonously foamed and +swirled. Others, also overcome by the heat and half naked, were +rinsing clothes in the Terek, plaiting a fishing line, or humming +tunes as they lay on the hot sand of the river bank. One Cossack, +with a thin face much burnt by the sun, lay near the hut evidently +dead drunk, by a wall which though it had been in shadow some two +hours previously was now exposed to the sun's fierce slanting +rays. + +Lukashka, who stood on the watch-tower, was a tall handsome lad +about twenty years old and very like his mother. His face and +whole build, in spite of the angularity of youth, indicated great +strength, both physical and moral. Though he had only lately +joined the Cossacks at the front, it was evident from the +expression of his face and the calm assurance of his attitude that +he had already acquired the somewhat proud and warlike bearing +peculiar to Cossacks and to men generally who continually carry +arms, and that he felt he was a Cossack and fully knew his own +value. His ample Circassian coat was torn in some places, his cap +was on the back of his head Chechen fashion, and his leggings had +slipped below his knees. His clothing was not rich, but he wore it +with that peculiar Cossack foppishness which consists in imitating +the Chechen brave. Everything on a real brave is ample, ragged, +and neglected, only his weapons are costly. But these ragged +clothes and these weapons are belted and worn with a certain air +and matched in a certain manner, neither of which can be acquired +by everybody and which at once strike the eye of a Cossack or a +hillsman. Lukashka had this resemblance to a brave. With his hands +folded under his sword, and his eyes nearly closed, he kept +looking at the distant Tartar village. Taken separately his +features were not beautiful, but anyone who saw his stately +carriage and his dark-browed intelligent face would involuntarily +say, 'What a fine fellow!' + +'Look at the women, what a lot of them are walking about in the +village,' said he in a sharp voice, languidly showing his +brilliant white teeth and not addressing anyone in particular. + +Nazarka who was lying below immediately lifted his head and +remarked: + +'They must be going for water.' + +'Supposing one scared them with a gun?' said Lukashka, laughing, +'Wouldn't they be frightened?' + +'It wouldn't reach.' + +'What! Mine would carry beyond. Just wait a bit, and when their +feast comes round I'll go and visit Girey Khan and drink buza +there,' said Lukashka, angrily swishing away the mosquitoes which +attached themselves to him. + +A rustling in the thicket drew the Cossack's attention. A pied +mongrel half-setter, searching for a scent and violently wagging +its scantily furred tail, came running to the cordon. Lukashka +recognized the dog as one belonging to his neighbour, Uncle +Eroshka, a hunter, and saw, following it through the thicket, the +approaching figure of the hunter himself. + +Uncle Eroshka was a gigantic Cossack with a broad, snow-white +beard and such broad shoulders and chest that in the wood, where +there was no one to compare him with, he did not look particularly +tall, so well proportioned were his powerful limbs. He wore a +tattered coat and, over the bands with which his legs were +swathed, sandals made of undressed deer's hide tied on with +strings; while on his head he had a rough little white cap. He +carried over one shoulder a screen to hide behind when shooting +pheasants, and a bag containing a hen for luring hawks, and a +small falcon; over the other shoulder, attached by a strap, was a +wild cat he had killed; and stuck in his belt behind were some +little bags containing bullets, gunpowder, and bread, a horse's +tail to swish away the mosquitoes, a large dagger in a torn +scabbard smeared with old bloodstains, and two dead pheasants. +Having glanced at the cordon he stopped. + +'Hy, Lyam!' he called to the dog in such a ringing bass that it +awoke an echo far away in the wood; and throwing over his shoulder +his big gun, of the kind the Cossacks call a 'flint', he raised +his cap. + +'Had a good day, good people, eh?' he said, addressing the +Cossacks in the same strong and cheerful voice, quite without +effort, but as loudly as if he were shouting to someone on the +other bank of the river. + +'Yes, yes. Uncle!' answered from all sides the voices of the young +Cossacks. + +'What have you seen? Tell us!' shouted Uncle Eroshka, wiping the +sweat from his broad red face with the sleeve of his coat. + +'Ah, there's a vulture living in the plane tree here, Uncle. As +soon as night comes he begins hovering round,' said Nazarka, +winking and jerking his shoulder and leg. + +'Come, come!' said the old man incredulously. + +'Really, Uncle! You must keep watch,' replied Nazarka with a +laugh. + +The other Cossacks began laughing. + +The wag had not seen any vulture at all, but it had long been the +custom of the young Cossacks in the cordon to tease and mislead +Uncle Eroshka every time he came to them. + +'Eh, you fool, always lying!' exclaimed Lukashka from the tower to +Nazarka. + +Nazarka was immediately silenced. + +'It must be watched. I'll watch,' answered the old man to the +great delight of all the Cossacks. 'But have you seen any boars?' + +'Watching for boars, are you?' said the corporal, bending forward +and scratching his back with both hands, very pleased at the +chance of some distraction. 'It's abreks one has to hunt here and +not boars! You've not heard anything, Uncle, have you?' he added, +needlessly screwing up his eyes and showing his close-set white +teeth. + +'Abreks,' said the old man. 'No, I haven't. I say, have you any +chikhir? Let me have a drink, there's a good man. I'm really quite +done up. When the time comes I'll bring you some fresh meat, I +really will. Give me a drink!' he added. + +'Well, and are you going to watch?' inquired the corporal, as +though he had not heard what the other said. + +'I did mean to watch tonight,' replied Uncle Eroshka. 'Maybe, with +God's help, I shall kill something for the holiday. Then you shall +have a share, you shall indeed!' + +'Uncle! Hallo, Uncle!' called out Lukashka sharply from above, +attracting everybody's attention. All the Cossacks looked up at +him. 'Just go to the upper water-course, there's a fine herd of +boars there. I'm not inventing, really! The other day one of our +Cossacks shot one there. I'm telling you the truth,' added he, +readjusting the musket at his back and in a tone that showed he +was not joking. + +'Ah! Lukashka the Snatcher is here!' said the old man, looking up. +'Where has he been shooting?' + +'Haven't you seen? I suppose you're too young!' said Lukashka. +'Close by the ditch,' he went on seriously with a shake of the +head. 'We were just going along the ditch when all at once we +heard something crackling, but my gun was in its case. Elias fired +suddenly ... But I'll show you the place, it's not far. You just +wait a bit. I know every one of their footpaths ... Daddy Mosev,' +said he, turning resolutely and almost commandingly to the +corporal, 'it's time to relieve guard!' and holding aloft his gun +he began to descend from the watch-tower without waiting for the +order. + +'Come down!' said the corporal, after Lukashka had started, and +glanced round. 'Is it your turn, Gurka? Then go ... True enough +your Lukashka has become very skilful,' he went on, addressing the +old man. 'He keeps going about just like you, he doesn't stay at +home. The other day he killed a boar.' + + + + +Chapter VII + + +The sun had already set and the shades of night were rapidly +spreading from the edge of the wood. The Cossacks finished their +task round the cordon and gathered in the hut for supper. Only the +old man still stayed under the plane tree watching for the vulture +and pulling the string tied to the falcon's leg, but though a +vulture was really perching on the plane tree it declined to swoop +down on the lure. Lukashka, singing one song after another, was +leisurely placing nets among the very thickest brambles to trap +pheasants. In spite of his tall stature and big hands every kind +of work, both rough and delicate, prospered under Lukashka's +fingers. + +'Hallo, Luke!' came Nazarka's shrill, sharp voice calling him from +the thicket close by. 'The Cossacks have gone in to supper.' + +Nazarka, with a live pheasant under his arm, forced his way +through the brambles and emerged on the footpath. + +'Oh!' said Lukashka, breaking off in his song, 'where did you get +that cock pheasant? I suppose it was in my trap?' + +Nazarka was of the same age as Lukashka and had also only been at +the front since the previous spring. + +He was plain, thin and puny, with a shrill voice that rang in +one's ears. They were neighbours and comrades. Lukashka was +sitting on the grass crosslegged like a Tartar, adjusting his +nets. + +'I don't know whose it was--yours, I expect.' + +'Was it beyond the pit by the plane tree? Then it is mine! I set +the nets last night.' + +Lukashka rose and examined the captured pheasant. After stroking +the dark burnished head of the bird, which rolled its eyes and +stretched out its neck in terror, Lukashka took the pheasant in +his hands. + +'We'll have it in a pilau tonight. You go and kill and pluck it.' + +'And shall we eat it ourselves or give it to the corporal?' + +'He has plenty!' + +'I don't like killing them,' said Nazarka. + +'Give it here!' + +Lukashka drew a little knife from under his dagger and gave it a +swift jerk. The bird fluttered, but before it could spread its +wings the bleeding head bent and quivered. + +'That's how one should do it!' said Lukashka, throwing down the +pheasant. 'It will make a fat pilau.' + +Nazarka shuddered as he looked at the bird. + +'I say, Lukashka, that fiend will be sending us to the ambush +again tonight,' he said, taking up the bird. (He was alluding to +the corporal.) 'He has sent Fomushkin to get wine, and it ought to +be his turn. He always puts it on us.' + +Lukashka went whistling along the cordon. + +'Take the string with you,' he shouted. + +Nazirka obeyed. + +'I'll give him a bit of my mind today, I really will,' continued +Nazarka. 'Let's say we won't go; we're tired out and there's an +end of it! No, really, you tell him, he'll listen to you. It's too +bad!' + +'Get along with you! What a thing to make a fuss about!' said +Lukashka, evidently thinking of something else. 'What bosh! If he +made us turn out of the village at night now, that would be +annoying: there one can have some fun, but here what is there? +It's all one whether we're in the cordon or in ambush. What a +fellow you are!' + +'And are you going to the village?' + +'I'll go for the holidays.' + +'Gurka says your Dunayka is carrying on with Fomushkin,' said +Nazarka suddenly. + +'Well, let her go to the devil,' said Lukashka, showing his +regular white teeth, though he did not laugh. 'As if I couldn't +find another!' + +'Gurka says he went to her house. Her husband was out and there +was Fomushkin sitting and eating pie. Gurka stopped awhile and +then went away, and passing by the window he heard her say, "He's +gone, the fiend.... Why don't you eat your pie, my own? You +needn't go home for the night," she says. And Gurka under the +window says to himself, "That's fine!"' + +'You're making it up.' + +'No, quite true, by Heaven!' + +'Well, if she's found another let her go to the devil,' said +Lukashka, after a pause. 'There's no lack of girls and I was sick +of her anyway.' + +'Well, see what a devil you are!' said Nazarka. 'You should make +up to the cornet's girl, Maryanka. Why doesn't she walk out with +any one?' + +Lukashka frowned. 'What of Maryanka? They're all alike,' said he. + +'Well, you just try... ' + +'What do you think? Are girls so scarce in the village?' + +And Lukashka recommenced whistling, and went along the cordon +pulling leaves and branches from the bushes as he went. Suddenly, +catching sight of a smooth sapling, he drew the knife from the +handle of his dagger and cut it down. 'What a ramrod it will +make,' he said, swinging the sapling till it whistled through the +air. + +The Cossacks were sitting round a low Tartar table on the earthen +floor of the clay-plastered outer room of the hut, when the +question of whose turn it was to lie in ambush was raised. 'Who is +to go tonight?' shouted one of the Cossacks through the open door +to the corporal in the next room. + +'Who is to go?' the corporal shouted back. 'Uncle Burlak has been +and Fomushkin too,' said he, not quite confidently. 'You two had +better go, you and Nazarka,' he went on, addressing Lukashka. 'And +Ergushov must go too; surely he has slept it off?' + +'You don't sleep it off yourself so why should he?' said Nazarka +in a subdued voice. + +The Cossacks laughed. + +Ergushov was the Cossack who had been lying drunk and asleep near +the hut. He had only that moment staggered into the room rubbing +his eyes. + +Lukashka had already risen and was getting his gun ready. + +'Be quick and go! Finish your supper and go!' said the corporal; +and without waiting for an expression of consent he shut the door, +evidently not expecting the Cossack to obey. 'Of course,' thought +he, 'if I hadn't been ordered to I wouldn't send anyone, but an +officer might turn up at any moment. As it is, they say eight +abreks have crossed over.' + +'Well, I suppose I must go,' remarked Ergushov, 'it's the +regulation. Can't be helped! The times are such. I say, we must +go.' + +Meanwhile Lukashka, holding a big piece of pheasant to his mouth +with both hands and glancing now at Nazarka, now at Ergushov, +seemed quite indifferent to what passed and only laughed at them +both. Before the Cossacks were ready to go into ambush. Uncle +Eroshka, who had been vainly waiting under the plane tree till +night fell, entered the dark outer room. + +'Well, lads,' his loud bass resounded through the low-roofed room +drowning all the other voices, 'I'm going with you. You'll watch +for Chechens and I for boars!' + + + + +Chapter VIII + + +It was quite dark when Uncle Eroshka and the three Cossacks, in +their cloaks and shouldering their guns, left the cordon and went +towards the place on the Terek where they were to lie in ambush. +Nazarka did not want to go at all, but Lukashka shouted at him and +they soon started. After they had gone a few steps in silence the +Cossacks turned aside from the ditch and went along a path almost +hidden by reeds till they reached the river. On its bank lay a +thick black log cast up by the water. The reeds around it had been +recently beaten down. + +'Shall we lie here?' asked Nazarka. + +'Why not?' answered Lukashka. 'Sit down here and I'll be back in a +minute. I'll only show Daddy where to go.' + +'This is the best place; here we can see and not be seen,' said +Ergushov, 'so it's here we'll lie. It's a first-rate place!' + +Nazarka and Ergushov spread out their cloaks and settled down +behind the log, while Lukashka went on with Uncle Eroshka. + +'It's not far from here. Daddy,' said Lukashka, stepping softly in +front of the old man; 'I'll show you where they've been--I'm the +only one that knows. Daddy.' + +'Show me! You're a fine fellow, a regular Snatcher!' replied the +old man, also whispering. + +Having gone a few steps Lukashka stopped, stooped down over a +puddle, and whistled. 'That's where they come to drink, d'you +see?' He spoke in a scarcely audible voice, pointing to fresh +hoof-prints. + +'Christ bless you,' answered the old man. 'The boar will be in the +hollow beyond the ditch,' he added. Til watch, and you can go.' + +Lukashka pulled his cloak up higher and walked back alone, +throwing swift glances now to the left at the wall of reeds, now +to the Terek rushing by below the bank. 'I daresay he's watching +or creeping along somewhere,' thought he of a possible Chechen +hillsman. Suddenly a loud rustling and a splash in the water made +him start and seize his musket. From under the bank a boar leapt +up--his dark outline showing for a moment against the glassy +surface of the water and then disappearing among the reeds. +Lukashka pulled out his gun and aimed, but before he could fire +the boar had disappeared in the thicket. Lukashka spat with +vexation and went on. On approaching the ambuscade he halted again +and whistled softly. His whistle was answered and he stepped up to +his comrades. + +Nazarka, all curled up, was already asleep. Ergushov sat with his +legs crossed and moved slightly to make room for Lukashka. + +'How jolly it is to sit here! It's really a good place,' said he. +'Did you take him there?' + +'Showed him where,' answered Lukashka, spreading out his cloak. +'But what a big boar I roused just now close to the water! I +expect it was the very one! You must have heard the crash?' + +'I did hear a beast crashing through. I knew at once it was a +beast. I thought to myself: "Lukashka has roused a beast,"' +Ergushov said, wrapping himself up in his cloak. 'Now I'll go to +sleep,' he added. 'Wake me when the cocks crow. We must have +discipline. I'll lie down and have a nap, and then you will have a +nap and I'll watch--that's the way.' + +'Luckily I don't want to sleep,' answered Lukashka. + +The night was dark, warm, and still. Only on one side of the sky +the stars were shining, the other and greater part was overcast by +one huge cloud stretching from the mountaintops. The black cloud, +blending in the absence of any wind with the mountains, moved +slowly onwards, its curved edges sharply denned against the deep +starry sky. Only in front of him could the Cossack discern the +Terek and the distance beyond. Behind and on both sides he was +surrounded by a wall of reeds. Occasionally the reeds would sway +and rustle against one another apparently without cause. Seen from +down below, against the clear part of the sky, their waving tufts +looked like the feathery branches of trees. Close in front at his +very feet was the bank, and at its base the rushing torrent. A +little farther on was the moving mass of glassy brown water which +eddied rhythmically along the bank and round the shallows. Farther +still, water, banks, and cloud all merged together in impenetrable +gloom. Along the surface of the water floated black shadows, in +which the experienced eyes of the Cossack detected trees carried +down by the current. Only very rarely sheet-lightning, mirrored in +the water as in a black glass, disclosed the sloping bank +opposite. The rhythmic sounds of night--the rustling of the reeds, +the snoring of the Cossacks, the hum of mosquitoes, and the +rushing water, were every now and then broken by a shot fired in +the distance, or by the gurgling of water when a piece of bank +slipped down, the splash of a big fish, or the crashing of an +animal breaking through the thick undergrowth in the wood. Once an +owl flew past along the Terek, flapping one wing against the other +rhythmically at every second beat. Just above the Cossack's head +it turned towards the wood and then, striking its wings no longer +after every other flap but at every flap, it flew to an old plane +tree where it rustled about for a long time before settling down +among the branches. At every one of these unexpected sounds the +watching Cossack listened intently, straining his hearing, and +screwing up his eyes while he deliberately felt for his musket. + +The greater part of the night was past. The black cloud that had +moved westward revealed the clear starry sky from under its torn +edge, and the golden upturned crescent of the moon shone above the +mountains with a reddish light. The cold began to be penetrating. +Nazarka awoke, spoke a little, and fell asleep again. Lukashka +feeling bored got up, drew the knife from his dagger-handle and +began to fashion his stick into a ramrod. His head was full of the +Chechens who lived over there in the mountains, and of how their +brave lads came across and were not afraid of the Cossacks, and +might even now be crossing the river at some other spot. He thrust +himself out of his hiding-place and looked along the river but +could see nothing. And as he continued looking out at intervals +upon the river and at the opposite bank, now dimly distinguishable +from the water in the faint moonlight, he no longer thought about +the Chechens but only of when it would be time to wake his +comrades, and of going home to the village. In the village he +imagined Dunayka, his 'little soul', as the Cossacks call a man's +mistress, and thought of her with vexation. Silvery mists, a sign +of coming morning, glittered white above the water, and not far +from him young eagles were whistling and flapping their wings. At +last the crowing of a cock reached him from the distant village, +followed by the long-sustained note of another, which was again +answered by yet other voices. + +'Time to wake them,' thought Lukashka, who had finished his ramrod +and felt his eyes growing heavy. Turning to his comrades he +managed to make out which pair of legs belonged to whom, when it +suddenly seemed to him that he heard something splash on the other +side of the Terek. He turned again towards the horizon beyond the +hills, where day was breaking under the upturned crescent, glanced +at the outline of the opposite bank, at the Terek, and at the now +distinctly visible driftwood upon it. For one instant it seemed to +him that he was moving and that the Terek with the drifting wood +remained stationary. Again he peered out. One large black log with +a branch particularly attracted his attention. The tree was +floating in a strange way right down the middle of the stream, +neither rocking nor whirling. It even appeared not to be floating +altogether with the current, but to be crossing it in the +direction of the shallows. Lukashka stretching out his neck +watched it intently. The tree floated to the shallows, stopped, +and shifted in a peculiar manner. Lukashka thought he saw an arm +stretched out from beneath the tree. 'Supposing I killed an abrek +all by myself!' he thought, and seized his gun with a swift, +unhurried movement, putting up his gun-rest, placing the gun upon +it, and holding it noiselessly in position. Cocking the trigger, +with bated breath he took aim, still peering out intently. 'I +won't wake them,' he thought. But his heart began beating so fast +that he remained motionless, listening. Suddenly the trunk gave a +plunge and again began to float across the stream towards our +bank. 'Only not to miss ...' thought he, and now by the faint +light of the moon he caught a glimpse of a Tartar's head in front +of the floating wood. He aimed straight at the head which appeared +to be quite near--just at the end of his rifle's barrel. He +glanced cross. 'Right enough it is an abrek! he thought joyfully, +and suddenly rising to his knees he again took aim. Having found +the sight, barely visible at the end of the long gun, he said: 'In +the name of the Father and of the Son,' in the Cossack way learnt +in his childhood, and pulled the trigger. A flash of lightning lit +up for an instant the reeds and the water, and the sharp, abrupt +report of the shot was carried across the river, changing into a +prolonged roll somewhere in the far distance. The piece of +driftwood now floated not across, but with the current, rocking +and whirling. + +'Stop, I say!' exclaimed Ergushov, seizing his musket and raising +himself behind the log near which he was lying. + +'Shut up, you devil!' whispered Lukashka, grinding his teeth. +'abreks!' + +'Whom have you shot?' asked Nazarka. 'Who was it, Lukashka?' + +Lukashka did not answer. He was reloading his gun and watching the +floating wood. A little way off it stopped on a sand-bank, and +from behind it something large that rocked in the water came into +view. + +'What did you shoot? Why don't you speak?' insisted the Cossacks. + +'Abreks, I tell you!' said Lukashka. + +'Don't humbug! Did the gun go off? ...' + +'I've killed an abrek, that's what I fired at,' muttered Lukashka +in a voice choked by emotion, as he jumped to his feet. 'A man was +swimming...' he said, pointing to the sandbank. 'I killed him. +Just look there.' + +'Have done with your humbugging!' said Ergushov again, rubbing his +eyes. + +'Have done with what? Look there,' said Lukashka, seizing him by +the shoulders and pulling him with such force that Ergushov +groaned. + +He looked in the direction in which Lukashka pointed, and +discerning a body immediately changed his tone. + +'O Lord! But I say, more will come! I tell you the truth,' said he +softly, and began examining his musket. 'That was a scout swimming +across: either the others are here already or are not far off on +the other side--I tell you for sure!' Lukashka was unfastening his +belt and taking off his Circassian coat. + +'What are you up to, you idiot?' exclaimed Ergushov. 'Only show +yourself and you've lost all for nothing, I tell you true! If +you've killed him he won't escape. Let me have a little powder for +my musket-pan--you have some? Nazarka, you go back to the cordon +and look alive; but don't go along the bank or you'll be killed--I +tell you true.' + +'Catch me going alone! Go yourself!' said Nazarka angrily. + +Having taken off his coat, Lukashka went down to the bank. + +'Don't go in, I tell you!' said Ergushov, putting some powder on +the pan. 'Look, he's not moving. I can see. It's nearly morning; +wait till they come from the cordon. You go, Nazarka. You're +afraid! Don't be afraid, I tell you.' + +'Luke, I say, Lukashka! Tell us how you did it!' said Nazarka. + +Lukashka changed his mind about going into the water just then. +'Go quick to the cordon and I will watch. Tell the Cossacks to +send out the patrol. If the ABREKS are on this side they must be +caught,' said he. + +'That's what I say. They'll get off,' said Ergushov, rising. +'True, they must be caught!' + +Ergushov and Nazarka rose and, crossing themselves, started off +for the cordon--not along the riverbank but breaking their way +through the brambles to reach a path in the wood. + +'Now mind, Lukashka--they may cut you down here, so you'd best +keep a sharp look-out, I tell you!' + +'Go along; I know,' muttered Lukashka; and having examined his gun +again he sat down behind the log. + +He remained alone and sat gazing at the shallows and listening for +the Cossacks; but it was some distance to the cordon and he was +tormented by impatience. He kept thinking that the other ABREKS +who were with the one he had killed would escape. He was vexed +with the ABREKS who were going to escape just as he had been with +the boar that had escaped the evening before. He glanced round and +at the opposite bank, expecting every moment to see a man, and +having arranged his gun-rest he was ready to fire. The idea that +he might himself be killed never entered his head. + + + + +Chapter IX + + +It was growing light. The Chechen's body which was gently rocking +in the shallow water was now clearly visible. Suddenly the reeds +rustled not far from Luke and he heard steps and saw the feathery +tops of the reeds moving. He set his gun at full cock and +muttered: 'In the name of the Father and of the Son,' but when the +cock clicked the sound of steps ceased. + +'Hallo, Cossacks! Don't kill your Daddy!' said a deep bass voice +calmly; and moving the reeds apart Daddy Eroshka came up close to +Luke. + +'I very nearly killed you, by God I did!' said Lukashka. + +'What have you shot?' asked the old man. + +His sonorous voice resounded through the wood and downward along +the river, suddenly dispelling the mysterious quiet of night +around the Cossack. It was as if everything had suddenly become +lighter and more distinct. + +'There now. Uncle, you have not seen anything, but I've killed a +beast,' said Lukashka, uncocking his gun and getting up with +unnatural calmness. + +The old man was staring intently at the white back, now clearly +visible, against which the Terek rippled. + +'He was swimming with a log on his back. I spied him out! ... Look +there. There! He's got blue trousers, and a gun I think.... Do you +see?' inquired Luke. + + 'How can one help seeing?' said the old man angrily, and a +serious and stern expression appeared on his face. 'You've killed +a brave,' he said, apparently with regret. + +'Well, I sat here and suddenly saw something dark on the other +side. I spied him when he was still over there. It was as if a man +had come there and fallen in. Strange! And a piece of driftwood, a +good-sized piece, comes floating, not with the stream but across +it; and what do I see but a head appearing from under it! Strange! +I stretched out of the reeds but could see nothing; then I rose +and he must have heard, the beast, and crept out into the shallow +and looked about. "No, you don't!" I said, as soon as he landed +and looked round, "you won't get away!" Oh, there was something +choking me! I got my gun ready but did not stir, and looked out. +He waited a little and then swam out again; and when he came into +the moonlight I could see his whole back. "In the name of the +Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost"... and through the +smoke I see him struggling. He moaned, or so it seemed to me. +"Ah," I thought, "the Lord be thanked, I've killed him!" And when +he drifted onto the sand-bank I could see him distinctly: he tried +to get up but couldn't. He struggled a bit and then lay down. +Everything could be seen. Look, he does not move--he must be dead! +The Cossacks have gone back to the cordon in case there should be +any more of them.' + +'And so you got him!' said the old man. 'He is far away now, my +lad! ...' And again he shook his head sadly. + +Just then the sound reached them of breaking bushes and the loud +voices of Cossacks approaching along the bank on horseback and on +foot. 'Are you bringing the skiff?' shouted Lukashka. + +'You're a trump, Luke! Lug it to the bank!' shouted one of the +Cossacks. + +Without waiting for the skiff Lukashka began to undress, keeping +an eye all the while on his prey. + +'Wait a bit, Nazarka is bringing the skiff,' shouted the corporal. + +'You fool! Maybe he is alive and only pretending! Take your dagger +with you!' shouted another Cossack. + +'Get along,' cried Luke, pulling off his trousers. He quickly +undressed and, crossing himself, jumped, plunging with a splash +into the river. Then with long strokes of his white arms, lifting +his back high out of the water and breathing deeply, he swam +across the current of the Terek towards the shallows. A crowd of +Cossacks stood on the bank talking loudly. Three horsemen rode off +to patrol. The skiff appeared round a bend. Lukashka stood up on +the sandbank, leaned over the body, and gave it a couple of +shakes. + +'Quite dead!' he shouted in a shrill voice. + +The Chechen had been shot in the head. He had on a pair of blue +trousers, a shirt, and a Circassian coat, and a gun and dagger +were tied to his back. Above all these a large branch was tied, +and it was this which at first had misled Lukashka. + +'What a carp you've landed!' cried one of the Cossacks who had +assembled in a circle, as the body, lifted out of the skiff, was +laid on the bank, pressing down the grass. + +'How yellow he is!' said another. + +'Where have our fellows gone to search? I expect the rest of them +are on the other bank. If this one had not been a scout he would +not have swum that way. Why else should he swim alone?' said a +third. + +'Must have been a smart one to offer himself before the others; a +regular brave!' said Lukashka mockingly, shivering as he wrung out +his clothes that had got wet on the bank. + +'His beard is dyed and cropped.' + +'And he has tied a bag with a coat in it to his back.' + +'That would make it easier for him to swim,' said some one. + +'I say, Lukashka,' said the corporal, who was holding the dagger +and gun taken from the dead man. 'Keep the dagger for yourself and +the coat too; but I'll give you three rubles for the gun. You see +it has a hole in it,' said he, blowing into the muzzle. 'I want it +just for a souvenir.' + +Lukashka did not answer. Evidently this sort of begging vexed him +but he knew it could not be avoided. + +'See, what a devil!' said he, frowning and throwing down the +Chechen's coat. 'If at least it were a good coat, but it's a mere +rag.' + +'It'll do to fetch firewood in,' said one of the Cossacks. + +'Mosev, I'll go home,' said Lukashka, evidently forgetting his +vexation and wishing to get some advantage out of having to give a +present to his superior. + +'All right, you may go!' + +'Take the body beyond the cordon, lads,' said the corporal, still +examining the gun, 'and put a shelter over him from the sun. +Perhaps they'll send from the mountains to ransom it.' + +'It isn't hot yet,' said someone. + +'And supposing a jackal tears him? Would that be well?' remarked +another Cossack. + +'We'll set a watch; if they should come to ransom him it won't do +for him to have been torn.' + +'Well, Lukashka, whatever you do you must stand a pail of vodka +for the lads,' said the corporal gaily. + +'Of course! That's the custom,' chimed in the Cossacks. 'See what +luck God has sent you! Without ever having seen anything of the +kind before, you've killed a brave!' + +'Buy the dagger and coat and don't be stingy, and I'll let you +have the trousers too,' said Lukashka. 'They're too tight for me; +he was a thin devil.' + +One Cossack bought the coat for a ruble and another gave the price +of two pails of vodka for the dagger. + +'Drink, lads! I'll stand you a pail!' said Luke. 'I'll bring it +myself from the village.' + +'And cut up the trousers into kerchiefs for the girls!' said +Nazarka. + +The Cossacks burst out laughing. + +'Have done laughing!' said the corporal. 'And take the body away. +Why have you put the nasty thing by the hut?' + +'What are you standing there for? Haul him along, lads!' shouted +Lukashka in a commanding voice to the Cossacks, who reluctantly +took hold of the body, obeying him as though he were their chief. +After dragging the body along for a few steps the Cossacks let +fall the legs, which dropped with a lifeless jerk, and stepping +apart they then stood silent for a few moments. Nazarka came up +and straightened the head, which was turned to one side so that +the round wound above the temple and the whole of the dead man's +face were visible. 'See what a mark he has made right in the +brain,' he said. 'He won't get lost. His owners will always know +him!' No one answered, and again the Angel of Silence flew over +the Cossacks. + +The sun had risen high and its diverging beams were lighting up +the dewy grass. Near by, the Terek murmured in the awakened wood +and, greeting the morning, the pheasants called to one another. +The Cossacks stood still and silent around the dead man, gazing at +him. The brown body, with nothing on but the wet blue trousers +held by a girdle over the sunken stomach, was well shaped and +handsome. The muscular arms lay stretched straight out by his +sides; the blue, freshly shaven, round head with the clotted wound +on one side of it was thrown back. The smooth tanned forehead +contrasted sharply with the shaven part of the head. The open +glassy eyes with lowered pupils stared upwards, seeming to gaze +past everything. Under the red trimmed moustache the fine lips, +drawn at the corners, seemed stiffened into a smile of good- +natured subtle raillery. The fingers of the small hands covered +with red hairs were bent inward, and the nails were dyed red. + +Lukashka had not yet dressed. He was wet. His neck was redder and +his eyes brighter than usual, his broad jaws twitched, and from +his healthy body a hardly perceptible steam rose in the fresh +morning air. + +'He too was a man!' he muttered, evidently admiring the corpse. + +'Yes, if you had fallen into his hands you would have had short +shrift,' said one of the Cossacks. + +The Angel of Silence had taken wing. The Cossacks began bustling +about and talking. Two of them went to cut brushwood for a +shelter, others strolled towards the cordon. Luke and Nazarka ran +to get ready to go to the village. + +Half an hour later they were both on their way homewards, talking +incessantly and almost running through the dense woods which +separated the Terek from the village. + +'Mind, don't tell her I sent you, but just go and find out if her +husband is at home,' Luke was saying in his shrill voice. + +'And I'll go round to Yamka too,' said the devoted Nazarka. 'We'll +have a spree, shall we?' + +'When should we have one if not to-day?' replied Luke. + +When they reached the village the two Cossacks drank, and lay down +to sleep till evening. + + + + +Chapter X + + +On the third day after the events above described, two companies +of a Caucasian infantry regiment arrived at the Cossack village of +Novomlinsk. The horses had been unharnessed and the companies' +wagons were standing in the square. The cooks had dug a pit, and +with logs gathered from various yards (where they had not been +sufficiently securely stored) were now cooking the food; the pay- +sergeants were settling accounts with the soldiers. The Service +Corps men were driving piles in the ground to which to tie the +horses, and the quartermasters were going about the streets just +as if they were at home, showing officers and men to their +quarters. Here were green ammunition boxes in a line, the +company's carts, horses, and cauldrons in which buckwheat porridge +was being cooked. Here were the captain and the lieutenant and the +sergeant-major, Onisim Mikhaylovich, and all this was in the +Cossack village where it was reported that the companies were +ordered to take up their quarters: therefore they were at home +here. But why they were stationed there, who the Cossacks were, +and whether they wanted the troops to be there, and whether they +were Old Believers or not--was all quite immaterial. Having +received their pay and been dismissed, tired out and covered with +dust, the soldiers noisily and in disorder, like a swarm of bees +about to settle, spread over the squares and streets; quite +regardless of the Cossacks' ill will, chattering merrily and with +their muskets clinking, by twos and threes they entered the huts +and hung up their accoutrements, unpacked their bags, and bantered +the women. At their favourite spot, round the porridge-cauldrons, +a large group of soldiers assembled and with little pipes between +their teeth they gazed, now at the smoke which rose into the hot +sky, becoming visible when it thickened into white clouds as it +rose, and now at the camp fires which were quivering in the pure +air like molten glass, and bantered and made fun of the Cossack +men and women because they do not live at all like Russians. In +all the yards one could see soldiers and hear their laughter and +the exasperated and shrill cries of Cossack women defending their +houses and refusing to give the soldiers water or cooking +utensils. Little boys and girls, clinging to their mothers and to +each other, followed all the movements of the troopers (never +before seen by them) with frightened curiosity, or ran after them +at a respectful distance. The old Cossacks came out silently and +dismally and sat on the earthen embankments of their huts, and +watched the soldiers' activity with an air of leaving it all to +the will of God without understanding what would come of it. + +Olenin, who had joined the Caucasian Army as a cadet three months +before, was quartered in one of the best houses in the village, +the house of the cornet, Elias Vasilich--that is to say at Granny +Ulitka's. + +'Goodness knows what it will be like, Dmitri Andreich,' said the +panting Vanyusha to Olenin, who, dressed in a Circassian coat and +mounted on a Kabarda horse which he had bought in Groznoe, was +after a five-hours' march gaily entering the yard of the quarters +assigned to him. + +'Why, what's the matter?' he asked, caressing his horse and +looking merrily at the perspiring, dishevelled, and worried +Vanyusha, who had arrived with the baggage wagons and was +unpacking. + +Olenin looked quite a different man. In place of his clean-shaven +lips and chin he had a youthful moustache and a small beard. +Instead of a sallow complexion, the result of nights turned into +day, his cheeks, his forehead, and the skin behind his ears were +now red with healthy sunburn. In place of a clean new black suit +he wore a dirty white Circassian coat with a deeply pleated skirt, +and he bore arms. Instead of a freshly starched collar, his neck +was tightly clasped by the red band of his silk BESHMET. He wore +Circassian dress but did not wear it well, and anyone would have +known him for a Russian and not a Tartar brave. It was the thing-- +but not the real thing. But for all that, his whole person +breathed health, joy, and satisfaction. + +'Yes, it seems funny to you,' said Vanyusha, 'but just try to talk +to these people yourself: they set themselves against one and +there's an end of it. You can't get as much as a word out of +them.' Vanyusha angrily threw down a pail on the threshold. +'Somehow they don't seem like Russians.' + +'You should speak to the Chief of the Village!' + +'But I don't know where he lives,' said Vanyusha in an offended +tone. + +'Who has upset you so?' asked Olenin, looking round. + +'The devil only knows. Faugh! There is no real master here. They +say he has gone to some kind of KRIGA, and the old woman is a real +devil. God preserve us!' answered Vanyusha, putting his hands to +his head. 'How we shall live here I don't know. They are worse +than Tartars, I do declare--though they consider themselves +Christians! A Tartar is bad enough, but all the same he is more +noble. Gone to the KRIGA indeed! What this KRIGA they have +invented is, I don't know!' concluded Vanyusha, and turned aside. + +'It's not as it is in the serfs' quarters at home, eh?' chaffed +Olenin without dismounting. + +'Please sir, may I have your horse?' said Vanyusha, evidently +perplexed by this new order of things but resigning himself to his +fate. + +'So a Tartar is more noble, eh, Vanyusha?' repeated Olenin, +dismounting and slapping the saddle. + +'Yes, you're laughing! You think it funny,' muttered Vanyusha +angrily. + +'Come, don't be angry, Vanyusha,' replied Olenin, still smiling. +'Wait a minute, I'll go and speak to the people of the house; +you'll see I shall arrange everything. You don't know what a jolly +life we shall have here. Only don't get upset.' + +Vanyusha did not answer. Screwing up his eyes he looked +contemptuously after his master, and shook his head. Vanyusha +regarded Olenin as only his master, and Olenin regarded Vanyusha +as only his servant; and they would both have been much surprised +if anyone had told them that they were friends, as they really +were without knowing it themselves. Vanyusha had been taken into +his proprietor's house when he was only eleven and when Olenin was +the same age. When Olenin was fifteen he gave Vanyusha lessons for +a time and taught him to read French, of which the latter was +inordinately proud; and when in specially good spirits he still +let off French words, always laughing stupidly when he did so. + +Olenin ran up the steps of the porch and pushed open the door of +the hut. Maryanka, wearing nothing but a pink smock, as all +Cossack women do in the house, jumped away from the door, +frightened, and pressing herself against the wall covered the +lower part other face with the broad sleeve of her Tartar smock. +Having opened the door wider, Olenin in the semi-darkness of the +passage saw the whole tall, shapely figure of the young Cossack +girl. With the quick and eager curiosity of youth he involuntarily +noticed the firm maidenly form revealed by the fine print smock, +and the beautiful black eyes fixed on him with childlike terror +and wild curiosity. 'This is SHE,' thought Olenin. 'But there will +be many others like her' came at once into his head, and he opened +the inner door. Old Granny Ulitka, also dressed only in a smock, +was stooping with her back turned to him, sweeping the floor. + +'Good-day to you. Mother! I've come about my lodgings,' he began. + +The Cossack woman, without unbending, turned her severe but still +handsome face towards him. + +'What have you come here for? Want to mock at us, eh? I'll teach +you to mock; may the black plague seize you!' she shouted, looking +askance from under her frowning brow at the new-comer. + +Olenin had at first imagined that the way-worn, gallant Caucasian +Army (of which he was a member) would be everywhere received +joyfully, and especially by the Cossacks, our comrades in the war; +and he therefore felt perplexed by this reception. Without losing +presence of mind however he tried to explain that he meant to pay +for his lodgings, but the old woman would not give him a hearing. + +'What have you come for? Who wants a pest like you, with your +scraped face? You just wait a bit; when the master returns he'll +show you your place. I don't want your dirty money! A likely +thing--just as if we had never seen any! You'll stink the house +out with your beastly tobacco and want to put it right with money! +Think we've never seen a pest! May you be shot in your bowels and +your heart!' shrieked the old woman in a piercing voice, +interrupting Olenin. + +'It seems Vanyusha was right!' thought Olenin. "A Tartar would be +nobler",' and followed by Granny Ulitka's abuse he went out of the +hut. As he was leaving, Maryanka, still wearing only her pink +smock, but with her forehead covered down to her eyes by a white +kerchief, suddenly slipped out from the passage past him. +Pattering rapidly down the steps with her bare feet she ran from +the porch, stopped, and looking round hastily with laughing eyes +at the young man, vanished round the corner of the hut. + +Her firm youthful step, the untamed look of the eyes glistening +from under the white kerchief, and the firm stately build of the +young beauty, struck Olenin even more powerfully than before. +'Yes, it must be SHE,' he thought, and troubling his head still +less about the lodgings, he kept looking round at Maryanka as he +approached Vanyusha. + +'There you see, the girl too is quite savage, just like a wild +filly!' said Vanyusha, who though still busy with the luggage +wagon had now cheered up a bit. 'LA FAME!' he added in a loud +triumphant voice and burst out laughing. + + + + +Chapter XI + + +Towards evening the master of the house returned from his fishing, +and having learnt that the cadet would pay for the lodging, +pacified the old woman and satisfied Vanyusha's demands. + +Everything was arranged in the new quarters. Their hosts moved +into the winter hut and let their summer hut to the cadet for +three rubles a month. Olenin had something to eat and went to +sleep. Towards evening he woke up, washed and made himself tidy, +dined, and having lit a cigarette sat down by the window that +looked onto the street. It was cooler. The slanting shadow of the +hut with its ornamental gables fell across the dusty road and even +bent upwards at the base of the wall of the house opposite. The +steep reed-thatched roof of that house shone in the rays of the +setting sun. The air grew fresher. Everything was peaceful in the +village. The soldiers had settled down and become quiet. The herds +had not yet been driven home and the people had not returned from +their work. + +Olenin's lodging was situated almost at the end of the village. At +rare intervals, from somewhere far beyond the Terek in those parts +whence Olenin had just come (the Chechen or the Kumytsk plain), +came muffled sounds of firing. Olenin was feeling very well +contented after three months of bivouac life. His newly washed +face was fresh and his powerful body clean (an unaccustomed +sensation after the campaign) and in all his rested limbs he was +conscious of a feeling of tranquillity and strength. His mind, +too, felt fresh and clear. He thought of the campaign and of past +dangers. He remembered that he had faced them no worse than other +men, and that he was accepted as a comrade among valiant +Caucasians. His Moscow recollections were left behind Heaven knows +how far! The old life was wiped out and a quite new life had begun +in which there were as yet no mistakes. Here as a new man among +new men he could gain a new and good reputation. He was conscious +of a youthful and unreasoning joy of life. Looking now out of the +window at the boys spinning their tops in the shadow of the house, +now round his neat new lodging, he thought how pleasantly he would +settle down to this new Cossack village life. Now and then he +glanced at the mountains and the blue sky, and an appreciation of +the solemn grandeur of nature mingled with his reminiscences and +dreams. His new life had begun, not as he imagined it would when +he left Moscow, but unexpectedly well. 'The mountains, the +mountains, the mountains!' they permeated all his thoughts and +feelings. + +'He's kissed his dog and licked the jug! ... Daddy Eroshka has +kissed his dog!' suddenly the little Cossacks who had been +spinning their tops under the window shouted, looking towards the +side street. 'He's drunk his bitch, and his dagger!' shouted the +boys, crowding together and stepping backwards. + +These shouts were addressed to Daddy Eroshka, who with his gun on +his shoulder and some pheasants hanging at his girdle was +returning from his shooting expedition. + +'I have done wrong, lads, I have!' he said, vigorously swinging +his arms and looking up at the windows on both sides of the +street. 'I have drunk the bitch; it was wrong,' he repeated, +evidently vexed but pretending not to care. + +Olenin was surprised by the boys' behavior towards the old hunter, +but was still more struck by the expressive, intelligent face and +the powerful build of the man whom they called Daddy Eroshka. + +'Here Daddy, here Cossack!' he called. 'Come here!' + +The old man looked into the window and stopped. + +'Good evening, good man,' he said, lifting his little cap off his +cropped head. + +'Good evening, good man,' replied Olenin. 'What is it the +youngsters are shouting at you?' + +Daddy Eroshka came up to the window. 'Why, they're teasing the old +man. No matter, I like it. Let them joke about their old daddy,' +he said with those firm musical intonations with which old and +venerable people speak. 'Are you an army commander?' he added. + +'No, I am a cadet. But where did you kill those pheasants?' asked +Olenin. + +'I dispatched these three hens in the forest,' answered the old +man, turning his broad back towards the window to show the hen +pheasants which were hanging with their heads tucked into his belt +and staining his coat with blood. 'Haven't you seen any?' he +asked. 'Take a brace if you like! Here you are,' and he handed two +of the pheasants in at the window. 'Are you a sportsman yourself?' +he asked. + +'I am. During the campaign I killed four myself.' + +'Four? What a lot!' said the old man sarcastically. 'And are you a +drinker? Do you drink CHIKHIR?' + +'Why not? I like a drink.' + +'Ah, I see you are a trump! We shall be KUNAKS, you and I,' said +Daddy Eroshka. + +'Step in,' said Olenin. 'We'll have a drop of CHIKHIR.' + +'I might as well,' said the old man, 'but take the pheasants.' The +old man's face showed that he liked the cadet. He had seen at once +that he could get free drinks from him, and that therefore it +would be all right to give him a brace of pheasants. + +Soon Daddy Eroshka's figure appeared in the doorway of the hut, +and it was only then that Olenin became fully conscious of the +enormous size and sturdy build of this man, whose red-brown face +with its perfectly white broad beard was all furrowed by deep +lines produced by age and toil. For an old man, the muscles of his +legs, arms, and shoulders were quite exceptionally large and +prominent. There were deep scars on his head under the short- +cropped hair. His thick sinewy neck was covered with deep +intersecting folds like a bull's. His horny hands were bruised and +scratched. He stepped lightly and easily over the threshold, +unslung his gun and placed it in a corner, and casting a rapid +glance round the room noted the value of the goods and chattels +deposited in the hut, and with out-turned toes stepped softly, in +his sandals of raw hide, into the middle of the room. He brought +with him a penetrating but not unpleasant smell of CHIKHIR wine, +vodka, gunpowder, and congealed blood. + +Daddy Eroshka bowed down before the icons, smoothed his beard, and +approaching Olenin held out his thick brown hand. 'Koshkildy,' +said he; That is Tartar for "Good-day"--"Peace be unto you," it +means in their tongue.' + +'Koshkildy, I know,' answered Olenin, shaking hands. + +'Eh, but you don't, you won't know the right order! Fool!' said +Daddy Eroshka, shaking his head reproachfully. 'If anyone says +"Koshkildy" to you, you must say "Allah rasi bo sun," that is, +"God save you." That's the way, my dear fellow, and not +"Koshkildy." But I'll teach you all about it. We had a fellow +here, Elias Mosevich, one of your Russians, he and I were kunaks. +He was a trump, a drunkard, a thief, a sportsman--and what a +sportsman! I taught him everything.' + +'And what will you teach me?' asked Olenin, who was becoming more +and more interested in the old man. + +'I'll take you hunting and teach you to fish. I'll show you +Chechens and find a girl for you, if you like--even that! That's +the sort I am! I'm a wag!'--and the old man laughed. 'I'll sit +down. I'm tired. Karga?' he added inquiringly. + +'And what does "Karga" mean?' asked Olenin. + +'Why, that means "All right" in Georgian. But I say it just so. It +is a way I have, it's my favourite word. Karga, Karga. I say it +just so; in fun I mean. Well, lad, won't you order the chikhir? +You've got an orderly, haven't you? Hey, Ivan!' shouted the old +man. 'All your soldiers are Ivans. Is yours Ivan?' + +'True enough, his name is Ivan--Vanyusha. Here Vanyusha! Please +get some chikhir from our landlady and bring it here.' + +'Ivan or Vanyusha, that's all one. Why are all your soldiers +Ivans? Ivan, old fellow,' said the old man, 'you tell them to give +you some from the barrel they have begun. They have the best +chikhir in the village. But don't give more than thirty kopeks for +the quart, mind, because that witch would be only too glad.... Our +people are anathema people; stupid people,' Daddy Eroshka +continued in a confidential tone after Vanyusha had gone out. +'They do not look upon you as on men, you are worse than a Tartar +in their eyes. "Worldly Russians" they say. But as for me, though +you are a soldier you are still a man, and have a soul in you. +Isn't that right? Elias Mosevich was a soldier, yet what a +treasure of a man he was! Isn't that so, my dear fellow? That's +why our people don't like me; but I don't care! I'm a merry +fellow, and I like everybody. I'm Eroshka; yes, my dear fellow.' + +And the old Cossack patted the young man affectionately on the +shoulder. + + + + +Chapter XII + + +Vanyusha, who meanwhile had finished his housekeeping arrangements +and had even been shaved by the company's barber and had pulled +his trousers out of his high boots as a sign that the company was +stationed in comfortable quarters, was in excellent spirits. He +looked attentively but not benevolently at Eroshka, as at a wild +beast he had never seen before, shook his head at the floor which +the old man had dirtied and, having taken two bottles from under a +bench, went to the landlady. + +'Good evening, kind people,' he said, having made up his mind to +be very gentle. 'My master has sent me to get some chikhir. Will +you draw some for me, good folk?' + +The old woman gave no answer. The girl, who was arranging the +kerchief on her head before a little Tartar mirror, looked round +at Vanyusha in silence. + +'I'll pay money for it, honoured people,' said Vanyusha, jingling +the coppers in his pocket. 'Be kind to us and we, too will be kind +to you,' he added. + +'How much?' asked the old woman abruptly. 'A quart.' + +'Go, my own, draw some for them,' said Granny Ulitka to her +daughter. 'Take it from the cask that's begun, my precious.' + +The girl took the keys and a decanter and went out of the hut with +Vanyusha. + +'Tell me, who is that young woman?' asked Olenin, pointing to +Maryanka, who was passing the window. The old man winked and +nudged the young man with his elbow. + +'Wait a bit,' said he and reached out of the window. 'Khm,' he +coughed, and bellowed, 'Maryanka dear. Hallo, Maryanka, my girlie, +won't you love me, darling? I'm a wag,' he added in a whisper to +Olenin. The girl, not turning her head and swinging her arms +regularly and vigorously, passed the window with the peculiarly +smart and bold gait of a Cossack woman and only turned her dark +shaded eyes slowly towards the old man. + +'Love me and you'll be happy,' shouted Eroshka, winking, and he +looked questioningly at the cadet. + +'I'm a fine fellow, I'm a wag!' he added. 'She's a regular queen, +that girl. Eh?' + +'She is lovely,' said Olenin. 'Call her here!' + +'No, no,' said the old man. 'For that one a match is being +arranged with Lukashka, Luke, a fine Cossack, a brave, who killed +an abrek the other day. I'll find you a better one. I'll find you +one that will be all dressed up in silk and silver. Once I've said +it I'll do it. I'll get you a regular beauty!' + +'You, an old man--and say such things,' replied Olenin. 'Why, it's +a sin!' + +'A sin? Where's the sin?' said the old man emphatically. 'A sin to +look at a nice girl? A sin to have some fun with her? Or is it a +sin to love her? Is that so in your parts? ... No, my dear fellow, +it's not a sin, it's salvation! God made you and God made the girl +too. He made it all; so it is no sin to look at a nice girl. +That's what she was made for; to be loved and to give joy. That's +how I judge it, my good fellow.' + +Having crossed the yard and entered a cool dark storeroom filled +with barrels, Maryanka went up to one of them and repeating the +usual prayer plunged a dipper into it. Vanyusha standing in the +doorway smiled as he looked at her. He thought it very funny that +she had only a smock on, close-fitting behind and tucked up in +front, and still funnier that she wore a necklace of silver coins. +He thought this quite un-Russian and that they would all laugh in +the serfs' quarters at home if they saw a girl like that. 'La +fille comme c'est tres bien, for a change,' he thought. 'I'll tell +that to my master.' + +'What are you standing in the light for, you devil!' the girl +suddenly shouted. 'Why don't you pass me the decanter!' + +Having filled the decanter with cool red wine, Maryanka handed it +to Vanyusha. + +'Give the money to Mother,' she said, pushing away the hand in +which he held the money. + +Vanyusha laughed. + +'Why are you so cross, little dear?' he said good-naturedly, +irresolutely shuffling with his feet while the girl was covering +the barrel. + +She began to laugh. + +'And you! Are you kind?' + +'We, my master and I, are very kind,' Vanyusha answered decidedly. +'We are so kind that wherever we have stayed our hosts were always +very grateful. It's because he's generous.' + +The girl stood listening. + +'And is your master married?' she asked. + +'No. The master is young and unmarried, because noble gentlemen +can never marry young,' said Vanyusha didactically. + +'A likely thing! See what a fed-up buffalo he is--and too young to +marry! Is he the chief of you all?' she asked. + +'My master is a cadet; that means he's not yet an officer, but +he's more important than a general--he's an important man! Because +not only our colonel, but the Tsar himself, knows him,' proudly +explained Vanyusha. 'We are not like those other beggars in the +line regiment, and our papa himself was a Senator. He had more +than a thousand serfs, all his own, and they send us a thousand +rubles at a time. That's why everyone likes us. Another may be a +captain but have no money. What's the use of that?' + +'Go away. I'll lock up,' said the girl, interrupting him. + +Vanyusha brought Olenin the wine and announced that 'La fille +c'est tres joulie,' and, laughing stupidly, at once went out. + + + + +Chapter XIII + + +Meanwhile the tattoo had sounded in the village square. The people +had returned from their work. The herd lowed as in clouds of +golden dust it crowded at the village gate. The girls and the +women hurried through the streets and yards, turning in their +cattle. The sun had quite hidden itself behind the distant snowy +peaks. One pale bluish shadow spread over land and sky. Above the +darkened gardens stars just discernible were kindling, and the +sounds were gradually hushed in the village. The cattle having +been attended to and left for the night, the women came out and +gathered at the corners of the streets and, cracking sunflower +seeds with their teeth, settled down on the earthen embankments of +the houses. Later on Maryanka, having finished milking the buffalo +and the other two cows, also joined one of these groups. + +The group consisted of several women and girls and one old Cossack +man. + +They were talking about the abrek who had been killed. + +The Cossack was narrating and the women questioning him. + +'I expect he'll get a handsome reward,' said one of the women. + +'Of course. It's said that they'll send him a cross.' + +'Mosev did try to wrong him. Took the gun away from him, but the +authorities at Kizlyar heard of it.' + +'A mean creature that Mosev is!' + +'They say Lukashka has come home,' remarked one of the girls. + +'He and Nazarka are merry-making at Yamka's.' (Yamka was an +unmarried, disreputable Cossack woman who kept an illicit pot- +house.) 'I heard say they had drunk half a pailful.' + +'What luck that Snatcher has,' somebody remarked. 'A real +snatcher. But there's no denying he's a fine lad, smart enough for +anything, a right-minded lad! His father was just such another. +Daddy Kiryak was: he takes after his father. When he was killed +the whole village howled. Look, there they are,' added the +speaker, pointing to the Cossacks who were coming down the street +towards them. + +'And Ergushov has managed to come along with them too! The +drunkard!' + +Lukashka, Nazarka, and Ergushov, having emptied half a pail of +vodka, were coming towards the girls. The faces of all three, but +especially that of the old Cossack, were redder than usual. +Ergushov was reeling and kept laughing and nudging Nazarka in the +ribs. + +'Why are you not singing?' he shouted to the girls. 'Sing to our +merry-making, I tell you!' + +They were welcomed with the words, 'Had a good day? Had a good +day?' + +'Why sing? It's not a holiday,' said one of the women. 'You're +tight, so you go and sing.' + +Ergushov roared with laughter and nudged Nazarka. 'You'd better +sing. And I'll begin too. I'm clever, I tell you.' + +'Are you asleep, fair ones?' said Nazarka. 'We've come from the +cordon to drink your health. We've already drunk Lukashka's +health.' + +Lukashka, when he reached the group, slowly raised his cap and +stopped in front of the girls. His broad cheekbones and neck were +red. He stood and spoke softly and sedately, but in his +tranquillity and sedateness there was more of animation and +strength than in all Nazarka's loquacity and bustle. He reminded +one of a playful colt that with a snort and a flourish of its tail +suddenly stops short and stands as though nailed to the ground +with all four feet. Lukashka stood quietly in front of the girls, +his eyes laughed, and he spoke but little as he glanced now at his +drunken companions and now at the girls. When Maryanka joined the +group he raised his cap with a firm deliberate movement, moved out +of her way and then stepped in front of her with one foot a little +forward and with his thumbs in his belt, fingering his dagger. +Maryanka answered his greeting with a leisurely bow of her head, +settled down on the earth-bank, and took some seeds out of the +bosom of her smock. Lukashka, keeping his eyes fixed on Maryanka, +slowly cracked seeds and spat out the shells. All were quiet when +Maryanka joined the group. + +'Have you come for long?' asked a woman, breaking the silence. + +'Till to-morrow morning,' quietly replied Lukashka. + +'Well, God grant you get something good,' said the Cossack; 'I'm +glad of it, as I've just been saying.' + +'And I say so too,' put in the tipsy Ergushov, laughing. 'What a +lot of visitors have come,' he added, pointing to a soldier who +was passing by. 'The soldiers' vodka is good--I like it.' + +'They've sent three of the devils to us,' said one of the women. +'Grandad went to the village Elders, but they say nothing can be +done.' + +'Ah, ha! Have you met with trouble?' said Ergushov. + +'I expect they have smoked you out with their tobacco?' asked +another woman. 'Smoke as much as you like in the yard, I say, but +we won't allow it inside the hut. Not if the Elder himself comes, +I won't allow it. Besides, they may rob you. He's not quartered +any of them on himself, no fear, that devil's son of an Elder.' + +'You don't like it?' Ergushov began again. + +'And I've also heard say that the girls will have to make the +soldiers' beds and offer them chikhir and honey,' said Nazarka, +putting one foot forward and tilting his cap like Lukashka. + +Ergushov burst into a roar of laughter, and seizing the girl +nearest to him, he embraced her. 'I tell you true.' + +'Now then, you black pitch!' squealed the girl, 'I'll tell your +old woman.' + +'Tell her,' shouted he. 'That's quite right what Nazarka says; a +circular has been sent round. He can read, you know. Quite true!' +And he began embracing the next girl. + +'What are you up to, you beast?' squealed the rosy, round-faced +Ustenka, laughing and lifting her arm to hit him. + +The Cossack stepped aside and nearly fell. + +'There, they say girls have no strength, and you nearly killed +me.' + +'Get away, you black pitch, what devil has brought you from the +cordon?' said Ustenka, and turning away from him she again burst +out laughing. 'You were asleep and missed the abrek, didn't you? +Suppose he had done for you it would have been all the better.' + +'You'd have howled, I expect,' said Nazarka, laughing. + +'Howled! A likely thing.' + +'Just look, she doesn't care. She'd howl, Nazarka, eh? Would she?' +said Ergushov. + +Lukishka all this time had stood silently looking at Maryanka. His +gaze evidently confused the girl. + +'Well, Maryanka! I hear they've quartered one of the chiefs on +you?' he said, drawing nearer. + +Maryanka, as was her wont, waited before she replied, and slowly +raising her eyes looked at the Cossack. Lukashka's eyes were +laughing as if something special, apart from what was said, was +taking place between himself and the girl. + +'Yes, it's all right for them as they have two huts,' replied an +old woman on Maryanka's behalf, 'but at Fomushkin's now they also +have one of the chiefs quartered on them and they say one whole +corner is packed full with his things, and the family have no room +left. Was such a thing ever heard of as that they should turn a +whole horde loose in the village?' she said. 'And what the plague +are they going to do here?' + +'I've heard say they'll build a bridge across the Terek,' said one +of the girls. + +'And I've been told that they will dig a pit to put the girls in +because they don't love the lads,' said Nazarka, approaching +Ustenka; and he again made a whimsical gesture which set everybody +laughing, and Ergushov, passing by Maryanka, who was next in turn, +began to embrace an old woman. + +'Why don't you hug Maryanka? You should do it to each in turn,' +said Nazarka. + +'No, my old one is sweeter,' shouted the Cossack, kissing the +struggling old woman. + +'You'll throttle me,' she screamed, laughing. + +The tramp of regular footsteps at the other end of the street +interrupted their laughter. Three soldiers in their cloaks, with +their muskets on their shoulders, were marching in step to relieve +guard by the ammunition wagon. + +The corporal, an old cavalry man, looked angrily at the Cossacks +and led his men straight along the road where Lukashka and Nazarka +were standing, so that they should have to get out of the way. +Nazarka moved, but Lukashka only screwed up his eyes and turned +his broad back without moving from his place. + +'People are standing here, so you go round,' he muttered, half +turning his head and tossing it contemptuously in the direction of +the soldiers. + +The soldiers passed by in silence, keeping step regularly along +the dusty road. + +Maryanka began laughing and all the other girls chimed in. + +'What swells!' said Nazarka, 'Just like long-skirted choristers,' +and he walked a few steps down the road imitating the soldiers. + +Again everyone broke into peals of laughter. + +Lukashka came slowly up to Maryanka. + +'And where have you put up the chief?' he asked. + +Maryanka thought for a moment. + +'We've let him have the new hut,' she said. + +'And is he old or young,' asked Lukashka, sitting down beside her. + +'Do you think I've asked?' answered the girl. 'I went to get him +some chikhir and saw him sitting at the window with Daddy Eroshka. +Red-headed he seemed. They've brought a whole cartload of things.' + +And she dropped her eyes. + +'Oh, how glad I am that I got leave from the cordon!' said +Lukashka, moving closer to the girl and looking straight in her +eyes all the time. + +'And have you come for long?' asked Maryanka, smiling slightly. + +'Till the morning. Give me some sunflower seeds,' he said, holding +out his hand. + +Maryanka now smiled outright and unfastened the neckband of her +smock. + +'Don't take them all,' she said. + +'Really I felt so dull all the time without you, I swear I did,' +he said in a calm, restrained whisper, helping himself to some +seeds out of the bosom of the girl's smock, and stooping still +closer over her he continued with laughing eyes to talk to her in +low tones. + +'I won't come, I tell you,' Maryanka suddenly said aloud, leaning +away from him. + +'No really ... what I wanted to say to you, ...' whispered Lukashka. +'By the Heavens! Do come!' + +Maryanka shook her head, but did so with a smile. + +'Nursey Maryanka! Hallo Nursey! Mammy is calling! Supper time!' +shouted Maryanka's little brother, running towards the group. + +'I'm coming,' replied the girl. 'Go, my dear, go alone--I'll come +in a minute.' + +Lukashka rose and raised his cap. + +'I expect I had better go home too, that will be best,' he said, +trying to appear unconcerned but hardly able to repress a smile, +and he disappeared behind the corner of the house. + +Meanwhile night had entirely enveloped the village. Bright stars +were scattered over the dark sky. The streets became dark and +empty. Nazarka remained with the women on the earth-bank and their +laughter was still heard, but Lukashka, having slowly moved away +from the girls, crouched down like a cat and then suddenly started +running lightly, holding his dagger to steady it: not homeward, +however, but towards the cornet's house. Having passed two streets +he turned into a lane and lifting the skirt of his coat sat down +on the ground in the shadow of a fence. 'A regular cornet's +daughter!' he thought about Maryanka. 'Won't even have a lark--the +devil! But just wait a bit.' + +The approaching footsteps of a woman attracted his attention. He +began listening, and laughed all by himself. Maryanka with bowed +head, striking the pales of the fences with a switch, was walking +with rapid regular strides straight towards him. Lukashka rose. +Maryanka started and stopped. + +'What an accursed devil! You frightened me! So you have not gone +home?' she said, and laughed aloud. + +Lukashka put one arm round her and with the other hand raised her +face. 'What I wanted to tell you, by Heaven!' his voice trembled +and broke. + +'What are you talking of, at night time!' answered Maryanka. +'Mother is waiting for me, and you'd better go to your +sweetheart.' + +And freeing herself from his arms she ran away a few steps. When +she had reached the wattle fence of her home she stopped and +turned to the Cossack who was running beside her and still trying +to persuade her to stay a while with him. + +'Well, what do you want to say, midnight-gadabout?' and she again +began laughing. + +'Don't laugh at me, Maryanka! By the Heaven! Well, what if I have +a sweetheart? May the devil take her! Only say the word and now +I'll love you--I'll do anything you wish. Here they are!' and he +jingled the money in his pocket. 'Now we can live splendidly. +Others have pleasures, and I? I get no pleasure from you, Maryanka +dear!' + +The girl did not answer. She stood before him breaking her switch +into little bits with a rapid movement other fingers. + +Lukashka suddenly clenched his teeth and fists. + +'And why keep waiting and waiting? Don't I love you, darling? You +can do what you like with me,' said he suddenly, frowning angrily +and seizing both her hands. + +The calm expression of Maryanka's face and voice did not change. + +'Don't bluster, Lukashka, but listen to me,' she answered, not +pulling away her hands but holding the Cossack at arm's length. +'It's true I am a girl, but you listen to me! It does not depend +on me, but if you love me I'll tell you this. Let go my hands, +I'll tell you without.--I'll marry you, but you'll never get any +nonsense from me,' said Maryanka without turning her face. + +'What, you'll marry me? Marriage does not depend on us. Love me +yourself, Maryanka dear,' said Lukashka, from sullen and furious +becoming again gentle, submissive, and tender, and smiling as he +looked closely into her eyes. + +Maryanka clung to him and kissed him firmly on the lips. + +'Brother dear!' she whispered, pressing him convulsively to her. +Then, suddenly tearing herself away, she ran into the gate of her +house without looking round. + +In spite of the Cossack's entreaties to wait another minute to +hear what he had to say, Maryanka did not stop. + +'Go,' she cried, 'you'll be seen! I do believe that devil, our +lodger, is walking about the yard.' + +'Cornet's daughter,' thought Lukashka. 'She will marry me. +Marriage is all very well, but you just love me!' + +He found Nazarka at Yamka's house, and after having a spree with +him went to Dunayka's house, where, in spite of her not being +faithful to him, he spent the night. + + + + +Chapter XIV + + +It was quite true that Olenin had been walking about the yard when +Maryanka entered the gate, and had heard her say, 'That devil, our +lodger, is walking about.' He had spent that evening with Daddy +Eroshka in the porch of his new lodging. He had had a table, a +samovar, wine, and a candle brought out, and over a cup of tea and +a cigar he listened to the tales the old man told seated on the +threshold at his feet. Though the air was still, the candle +dripped and flickered: now lighting up the post of the porch, now +the table and crockery, now the cropped white head of the old man. +Moths circled round the flame and, shedding the dust of their +wings, fluttered on the table and in the glasses, flew into the +candle flame, and disappeared in the black space beyond. Olenin +and Eroshka had emptied five bottles of chikhir. Eroshka filled +the glasses every time, offering one to Olenin, drinking his +health, and talking untiringly. He told of Cossack life in the old +days: of his rather, 'The Broad', who alone had carried on his +back a boar's carcass weighing three hundredweight, and drank two +pails of chikhir at one sitting. He told of his own days and his +chum Girchik, with whom during the plague he used to smuggle felt +cloaks across the Terek. He told how one morning he had killed two +deer, and about his 'little soul' who used to run to him at the +cordon at night. He told all this so eloquently and picturesquely +that Olenin did not notice how time passed. 'Ah yes, my dear +fellow, you did not know me in my golden days; then I'd have shown +you things. Today it's "Eroshka licks the jug", but then Eroshka +was famous in the whole regiment. Whose was the finest horse? Who +had a Gurda sword? To whom should one go to get a drink? With whom +go on the spree? Who should be sent to the mountains to kill Ahmet +Khan? Why, always Eroshka! Whom did the girls love? Always Eroshka +had to answer for it. Because I was a real brave: a drinker, a +thief (I used to seize herds of horses in the mountains), a +singer; I was a master of every art! There are no Cossacks like +that nowadays. It's disgusting to look at them. When they're that +high [Eroshka held his hand three feet from the ground] they put +on idiotic boots and keep looking at them--that's all the pleasure +they know. Or they'll drink themselves foolish, not like men but +all wrong. And who was I? I was Eroshka, the thief; they knew me +not only in this village but up in the mountains. Tartar princes, +my kunaks, used to come to see me! I used to be everybody's kunak. +If he was a Tartar--with a Tartar; an Armenian--with an Armenian; +a soldier--with a soldier; an officer--with an officer! I didn't +care as long as he was a drinker. He says you should cleanse +yourself from intercourse with the world, not drink with soldiers, +not eat with a Tartar.' + +'Who says all that?' asked Olenin. + +'Why, our teacher! But listen to a Mullah or a Tartar Cadi. He +says, "You unbelieving Giaours, why do you eat pig?" That shows +that everyone has his own law. But I think it's all one. God has +made everything for the joy of man. There is no sin in any of it. +Take example from an animal. It lives in the Tartar's reeds or in +ours. Wherever it happens to go, there is its home! Whatever God +gives it, that it eats! But our people say we have to lick red-hot +plates in hell for that. And I think it's all a fraud,' he added +after a pause. + +'What is a fraud?' asked Olenin. + +'Why, what the preachers say. We had an army captain in Chervlena +who was my kunak: a fine fellow just like me. He was killed in +Chechnya. Well, he used to say that the preachers invent all that +out of their own heads. "When you die the grass will grow on your +grave and that's all!"' The old man laughed. 'He was a desperate +fellow.' + +'And how old are you?' asked Olenin. + +'The Lord only knows! I must be about seventy. When a Tsaritsa +reigned in Russia I was no longer very small. So you can reckon it +out. I must be seventy.' + +'Yes you must, but you are still a fine fellow.' + +'Well, thank Heaven I am healthy, quite healthy, except that a +woman, a witch, has harmed me....' + +'How?' + +'Oh, just harmed me.' + +'And so when you die the grass will grow?' repeated Olenin. + +Eroshka evidently did not wish to express his thought clearly. He +was silent for a while. + +'And what did you think? Drink!' he shouted suddenly, smiling and +handing Olenin some wine. + + + + +Chapter XV + + +'Well, what was I saying?' he continued, trying to remember. 'Yes, +that's the sort of man I am. I am a hunter. There is no hunter to +equal me in the whole army. I will find and show you any animal +and any bird, and what and where. I know it all! I have dogs, and +two guns, and nets, and a screen and a hawk. I have everything, +thank the Lord! If you are not bragging but are a real sportsman, +I'll show you everything. Do you know what a man I am? When I have +found a track--I know the animal. I know where he will lie down +and where he'll drink or wallow. I make myself a perch and sit +there all night watching. What's the good of staying at home? One +only gets into mischief, gets drunk. And here women come and +chatter, and boys shout at me--enough to drive one mad. It's a +different matter when you go out at nightfall, choose yourself a +place, press down the reeds and sit there and stay waiting, like a +jolly fellow. One knows everything that goes on in the woods. One +looks up at the sky: the stars move, you look at them and find out +from them how the time goes. One looks round--the wood is +rustling; one goes on waiting, now there comes a crackling--a boar +comes to rub himself; one listens to hear the young eaglets +screech and then the cocks give voice in the village, or the +geese. When you hear the geese you know it is not yet midnight. +And I know all about it! Or when a gun is fired somewhere far +away, thoughts come to me. One thinks, who is that firing? Is it +another Cossack like myself who has been watching for some animal? +And has he killed it? Or only wounded it so that now the poor +thing goes through the reeds smearing them with its blood all for +nothing? I don't like that! Oh, how I dislike it! Why injure a +beast? You fool, you fool! Or one thinks, "Maybe an abrek has +killed some silly little Cossack." All this passes through one's +mind. And once as I sat watching by the river I saw a cradle +floating down. It was sound except for one corner which was broken +off. Thoughts did come that time! I thought some of your soldiers, +the devils, must have got into a Tartar village and seized the +Chechen women, and one of the devils has killed the little one: +taken it by its legs, and hit its head against a wall. Don't they +do such things? Ah! Men have no souls! And thoughts came to me +that filled me with pity. I thought: they've thrown away the +cradle and driven the wife out, and her brave has taken his gun +and come across to our side to rob us. One watches and thinks. And +when one hears a litter breaking through the thicket, something +begins to knock inside one. Dear one, come this way! "They'll +scent me," one thinks; and one sits and does not stir while one's +heart goes dun! dun! dun! and simply lifts you. Once this spring a +fine litter came near me, I saw something black. "In the name of +the Father and of the Son," and I was just about to fire when she +grunts to her pigs: "Danger, children," she says, "there's a man +here," and off they all ran, breaking through the bushes. And she +had been so close I could almost have bitten her.' + +'How could a sow tell her brood that a man was there?' asked +Olenin. + +'What do you think? You think the beast's a fool? No, he is wiser +than a man though you do call him a pig! He knows everything. Take +this for instance. A man will pass along your track and not notice +it; but a pig as soon as it gets onto your track turns and runs at +once: that shows there is wisdom in him, since he scents your +smell and you don't. And there is this to be said too: you wish to +kill it and it wishes to go about the woods alive. You have one +law and it has another. It is a pig, but it is no worse than you-- +it too is God's creature. Ah, dear! Man is foolish, foolish, +foolish!' The old man repeated this several times and then, +letting his head drop, he sat thinking. + +Olenin also became thoughtful, and descending from the porch with +his hands behind his back began pacing up and down the yard. + +Eroshka, rousing himself, raised his head and began gazing +intently at the moths circling round the flickering flame of the +candle and burning themselves in it. + +'Fool, fool!' he said. 'Where are you flying to? Fool, fool!' He +rose and with his thick fingers began to drive away the moths. + +'You'll burn, little fool! Fly this way, there's plenty of room.' +He spoke tenderly, trying to catch them delicately by their wings +with his thick ringers and then letting them fly again. 'You are +killing yourself and I am sorry for you!' + +He sat a long time chattering and sipping out of the bottle. +Olenin paced up and down the yard. Suddenly he was struck by the +sound of whispering outside the gate. Involuntarily holding his +breath, he heard a woman's laughter, a man's voice, and the sound +of a kiss. Intentionally rustling the grass under his feet he +crossed to the opposite side of the yard, but after a while the +wattle fence creaked. A Cossack in a dark Circassian coat and a +white sheepskin cap passed along the other side of the fence (it +was Luke), and a tall woman with a white kerchief on her head went +past Olenin. 'You and I have nothing to do with one another' was +what Maryanka's firm step gave him to understand. He followed her +with his eyes to the porch of the hut, and he even saw her through +the window take off her kerchief and sit down. And suddenly a +feeling of lonely depression and some vague longings and hopes, +and envy of someone or other, overcame the young man's soul. + +The last lights had been put out in the huts. The last sounds had +died away in the village. The wattle fences and the cattle +gleaming white in the yards, the roofs of the houses and the +stately poplars, all seemed to be sleeping the labourers' healthy +peaceful sleep. Only the incessant ringing voices of frogs from +the damp distance reached the young man. In the east the stars +were growing fewer and fewer and seemed to be melting in the +increasing light, but overhead they were denser and deeper than +before. The old man was dozing with his head on his hand. A cock +crowed in the yard opposite, but Olenin still paced up and down +thinking of something. The sound of a song sung by several voices +reached him and he stepped up to the fence and listened. The +voices of several young Cossacks carolled a merry song, and one +voice was distinguishable among them all by its firm strength. + +'Do you know who is singing there?' said the old man, rousing +himself. 'It is the Brave, Lukashka. He has killed a Chechen and +now he rejoices. And what is there to rejoice at? ... The fool, +the fool!' + +'And have you ever killed people?' asked Olenin. + +'You devil!' shouted the old man. 'What are you asking? One must +not talk so. It is a serious thing to destroy a human being ... +Ah, a very serious thing! Good-bye, my dear fellow. I've eaten my +fill and am drunk,' he said rising. 'Shall I come to-morrow to go +shooting?' + +'Yes, come!' + +'Mind, get up early; if you oversleep you will be fined!' + +'Never fear, I'll be up before you,' answered Olenin. + +The old man left. The song ceased, but one could hear footsteps +and merry talk. A little later the singing broke out again but +farther away, and Eroshka's loud voice chimed in with the other. +'What people, what a life!' thought Olenin with a sigh as he +returned alone to his hut. + + + + +Chapter XVI + + +Daddy Eroshka was a superannuated and solitary Cossack: twenty +years ago his wife had gone over to the Orthodox Church and run +away from him and married a Russian sergeant-major, and he had no +children. He was not bragging when he spoke of himself as having +been the boldest dare-devil in the village when he was young. +Everybody in the regiment knew of his old-time prowess. The death +of more than one Russian, as well as Chechen, lay on his +conscience. He used to go plundering in the mountains, and robbed +the Russians too; and he had twice been in prison. The greater +part of his life was spent in the forests, hunting. There he lived +for days on a crust of bread and drank nothing but water. But on +the other hand, when he was in the village he made merry from +morning to night. After leaving Olenin he slept for a couple of +hours and awoke before it was light. He lay on his bed thinking of +the man he had become acquainted with the evening before. Olenin's +'simplicity' (simplicity in the sense of not grudging him a drink) +pleased him very much, and so did Olenin himself. He wondered why +the Russians were all 'simple' and so rich, and why they were +educated, and yet knew nothing. He pondered on these questions and +also considered what he might get out of Olenin. + +Daddy Eroshka's hut was of a good size and not old, but the +absence of a woman was very noticeable in it. Contrary to the +usual cleanliness of the Cossacks, the whole of this hut was +filthy and exceedingly untidy. A blood-stained coat had been +thrown on the table, half a dough-cake lay beside a plucked and +mangled crow with which to feed the hawk. Sandals of raw hide, a +gun, a dagger, a little bag, wet clothes, and sundry rags lay +scattered on the benches. In a comer stood a tub with stinking +water, in which another pair of sandals were being steeped, and +near by was a gun and a hunting-screen. On the floor a net had +been thrown down and several dead pheasants lay there, while a hen +tied by its leg was walking about near the table pecking among the +dirt. In the unheated oven stood a broken pot with some kind of +milky liquid. On the top of the oven a falcon was screeching and +trying to break the cord by which it was tied, and a moulting hawk +sat quietly on the edge of the oven, looking askance at the hen +and occasionally bowing its head to right and left. Daddy Eroshka +himself, in his shirt, lay on his back on a short bed rigged up +between the wall and the oven, with his strong legs raised and his +feet on the oven. He was picking with his thick fingers at the +scratches left on his hands by the hawk, which he was accustomed +to carry without wearing gloves. The whole room, especially near +the old man, was filled with that strong but not unpleasant +mixture of smells that he always carried about with him. + +'Uyde-ma, Daddy?' (Is Daddy in?) came through the window in a +sharp voice, which he at once recognized as Lukashka's. + +'Uyde, Uyde, Uyde. I am in!' shouted the old man. 'Come in, +neighbour Mark, Luke Mark. Come to see Daddy? On your way to the +cordon?' + +At the sound of his master's shout the hawk flapped his wings and +pulled at his cord. + +The old man was fond of Lukashka, who was the only man he excepted +from his general contempt for the younger generation of Cossacks. +Besides that, Lukashka and his mother, as near neighbours, often +gave the old man wine, clotted cream, and other home produce which +Eroshka did not possess. Daddy Eroshka, who all his life had +allowed himself to get carried away, always explained his +infatuations from a practical point of view. 'Well, why not?' he +used to say to himself. 'I'll give them some fresh meat, or a +bird, and they won't forget Daddy: they'll sometimes bring a cake +or a piece of pie.' + +'Good morning. Mark! I am glad to see you,' shouted the old man +cheerfully, and quickly putting down his bare feet he jumped off +his bed and walked a step or two along the creaking floor, looked +down at his out-turned toes, and suddenly, amused by the +appearance of his feet, smiled, stamped with his bare heel on the +ground, stamped again, and then performed a funny dance-step. +'That's clever, eh?' he asked, his small eyes glistening. Lukashka +smiled faintly. 'Going back to the cordon?' asked the old man. + +'I have brought the chikhir I promised you when we were at the +cordon.' + +'May Christ save you!' said the old man, and he took up the +extremely wide trousers that were lying on the floor, and his +beshmet, put them on, fastened a strap round his waist, poured +some water from an earthenware pot over his hands, wiped them on +the old trousers, smoothed his beard with a bit of comb, and +stopped in front of Lukashka. 'Ready,' he said. + +Lukashka fetched a cup, wiped it and filled it with wine, and then +handed it to the old man. + +'Your health! To the Father and the Son!' said the old man, +accepting the wine with solemnity. 'May you have what you desire, +may you always be a hero, and obtain a cross.' + +Lukashka also drank a little after repeating a prayer, and then +put the wine on the table. The old man rose and brought out some +dried fish which he laid on the threshold, where he beat it with a +stick to make it tender; then, having put it with his horny hands +on a blue plate (his only one), he placed it on the table. + +'I have all I want. I have victuals, thank God!' he said proudly. +'Well, and what of Mosev?' he added. + +Lukashka, evidently wishing to know the old man's opinion, told +him how the officer had taken the gun from him. + +'Never mind the gun,' said the old man. 'If you don't give the gun +you will get no reward.' + +'But they say. Daddy, it's little reward a fellow gets when he is +not yet a mounted Cossack; and the gun is a fine one, a Crimean, +worth eighty rubles.' + +'Eh, let it go! I had a dispute like that with an officer, he +wanted my horse. "Give it me and you'll be made a cornet," says +he. I wouldn't, and I got nothing!' + +'Yes, Daddy, but you see I have to buy a horse; and they say you +can't get one the other side of the river under fifty rubles, and +mother has not yet sold our wine.' + +'Eh, we didn't bother,' said the old man; 'when Daddy Eroshka was +your age he already stole herds of horses from the Nogay folk and +drove them across the Terek. Sometimes we'd give a fine horse for +a quart of vodka or a cloak.' + +'Why so cheap?' asked Lukashka. + +'You're a fool, a fool, Mark,' said the old man contemptuously. +'Why, that's what one steals for, so as not to be stingy! As for +you, I suppose you haven't so much as seen how one drives off a +herd of horses? Why don't you speak?' + +'What's one to say. Daddy?' replied Lukashka. 'It seems we are not +the same sort of men as you were.' + +'You're a fool. Mark, a fool! "Not the same sort of men!"' +retorted the old man, mimicking the Cossack lad. 'I was not that +sort of Cossack at your age.' + +'How's that?' asked Lukashka. + +The old man shook his head contemptuously. + +'Daddy Eroshka was simple; he did not grudge anything! That's why +I was kunak with all Chechnya. A kunak would come to visit me and +I'd make him drunk with vodka and make him happy and put him to +sleep with me, and when I went to see him I'd take him a present-- +a dagger! That's the way it is done, and not as you do nowadays: +the only amusement lads have now is to crack seeds and spit out +the shells!' the old man finished contemptuously, imitating the +present-day Cossacks cracking seeds and spitting out the shells. + +'Yes, I know,' said Lukashka; 'that's so!' + +'If you wish to be a fellow of the right sort, be a brave and not +a peasant! Because even a peasant can buy a horse--pay the money +and take the horse.' + +They were silent for a while. + +'Well, of course it's dull both in the village and the cordon, +Daddy: but there's nowhere one can go for a bit of sport. All our +fellows are so timid. Take Nazarka. The other day when we went to +the Tartar village, Girey Khan asked us to come to Nogay to take +some horses, but no one went, and how was I to go alone?' + +'And what of Daddy? Do you think I am quite dried up? ... No, I'm +not dried up. Let me have a horse and I'll be off to Nogay at +once.' + +'What's the good of talking nonsense!' said Luke. 'You'd better +tell me what to do about Girey Khan. He says, "Only bring horses +to the Terek, and then even if you bring a whole stud I'll find a +place for them." You see he's also a shaven-headed Tartar--how's +one to believe him?' + +'You may trust Girey Khan, all his kin were good people. His +father too was a faithful kunak. But listen to Daddy and I won't +teach you wrong: make him take an oath, then it will be all right. +And if you go with him, have your pistol ready all the same, +especially when it comes to dividing up the horses. I was nearly +killed that way once by a Chechen. I wanted ten rubles from him +for a horse. Trusting is all right, but don't go to sleep without +a gun.' Lukashka listened attentively to the old man. + +'I say. Daddy, have you any stone-break grass?' he asked after a +pause. + +'No, I haven't any, but I'll teach you how to get it. You're a +good lad and won't forget the old man.... Shall I tell you?' + +'Tell me, Daddy.' + +'You know a tortoise? She's a devil, the tortoise is!' + +'Of course I know!' + +'Find her nest and fence it round so that she can't get in. Well, +she'll come, go round it, and then will go off to find the stone- +break grass and will bring some along and destroy the fence. +Anyhow next morning come in good time, and where the fence is +broken there you'll find the stone-break grass lying. Take it +wherever you like. No lock and no bar will be able to stop you.' + +'Have you tried it yourself. Daddy?' + +'As for trying, I have not tried it, but I was told of it by good +people. I used only one charm: that was to repeat the Pilgrim +rhyme when mounting my horse; and no one ever killed me!' + +'What is the Pilgrim rhyme. Daddy?' + +'What, don't you know it? Oh, what people! You're right to ask +Daddy. Well, listen, and repeat after me: + +'Hail! Ye, living in Sion, This is your King, Our steeds we shall +sit on, Sophonius is weeping. Zacharias is speaking, Father +Pilgrim, Mankind ever loving.' + +'Kind ever loving,' the old man repeated. 'Do you know it now? Try +it.' + +Lukashka laughed. + +'Come, Daddy, was it that that hindered their killing you? Maybe +it just happened so!' + +'You've grown too clever! You learn it all, and say it. It will do +you no harm. Well, suppose you have sung "Pilgrim", it's all +right,' and the old man himself began laughing. 'But just one +thing, Luke, don't you go to Nogay!' + +'Why?' + +'Times have changed. You are not the same men. You've become +rubbishy Cossacks! And see how many Russians have come down on us! +You'd get to prison. Really, give it up! Just as if you could! Now +Girchik and I, we used...' + +And the old man was about to begin one of his endless tales, but +Lukashka glanced at the window and interrupted him. + +'It is quite light. Daddy. It's time to be off. Look us up some +day.' + +'May Christ save you! I'll go to the officer; I promised to take +him out shooting. He seems a good fellow.' + + + + +Chapter XVII + + +From Eroshka's hut Lukashka went home. As he returned, the dewy +mists were rising from the ground and enveloped the village. In +various places the cattle, though out of sight, could be heard +beginning to stir. The cocks called to one another with increasing +frequency and insistence. The air was becoming more transparent, +and the villagers were getting up. Not till he was close to it +could Lukishka discern the fence of his yard, all wet with dew, +the porch of the hut, and the open shed. From the misty yard he +heard the sound of an axe chopping wood. Lukashka entered the hut. +His mother was up, and stood at the oven throwing wood into it. +His little sister was still lying in bed asleep. + +'Well, Lukashka, had enough holiday-making?' asked his mother +softly. 'Where did you spend the night?' + +'I was in the village,' replied her son reluctantly, reaching for +his musket, which he drew from its cover and examined carefully. + +His mother swayed her head. + +Lukashka poured a little gunpowder onto the pan, took out a little +bag from which he drew some empty cartridge cases which he began +filling, carefully plugging each one with a ball wrapped in a rag. +Then, having tested the loaded cartridges with his teeth and +examined them, he put down the bag. + +'I say, Mother, I told you the bags wanted mending; have they been +done?' he asked. + +'Oh yes, our dumb girl was mending something last night. Why, is +it time for you to be going back to the cordon? I haven't seen +anything of you!' + +'Yes, as soon as I have got ready I shall have to go,' answered +Lukashka, tying up the gunpowder. 'And where is our dumb one? +Outside?' + +'Chopping wood, I expect. She kept fretting for you. "I shall not +see him at all!" she said. She puts her hand to her face like +this, and clicks her tongue and presses her hands to her heart as +much as to say--"sorry." Shall I call her in? She understood all +about the abrek.' + +'Call her,' said Lukashka. 'And I had some tallow there; bring it: +I must grease my sword.' + +The old woman went out, and a few minutes later Lukashka's dumb +sister came up the creaking steps and entered the hut. She was six +years older than her brother and would have been extremely like +him had it not been for the dull and coarsely changeable +expression (common to all deaf and dumb people) of her face. She +wore a coarse smock all patched; her feet were bare and muddy, and +on her head she had an old blue kerchief. Her neck, arms, and face +were sinewy like a peasant's. Her clothing and her whole +appearance indicated that she always did the hard work of a man. +She brought in a heap of logs which she threw down by the oven. +Then she went up to her brother, and with a joyful smile which +made her whole face pucker up, touched him on the shoulder and +began making rapid signs to him with her hands, her face, and +whole body. + +'That's right, that's right, Stepka is a trump!' answered the +brother, nodding. 'She's fetched everything and mended everything, +she's a trump! Here, take this for it!' He brought out two pieces +of gingerbread from his pocket and gave them to her. + +The dumb woman's face flushed with pleasure, and she began making +a weird noise for joy. Having seized the gingerbread she began to +gesticulate still more rapidly, frequently pointing in one +direction and passing her thick finger over her eyebrows and her +face. Lukashka understood her and kept nodding, while he smiled +slightly. She was telling him to give the girls dainties, and that +the girls liked him, and that one girl, Maryanka--the best of them +all--loved him. She indicated Maryanka by rapidly pointing in the +direction of Maryanka's home and to her own eyebrows and face, and +by smacking her lips and swaying her head. 'Loves' she expressed +by pressing her hands to her breast, kissing her hand, and +pretending to embrace someone. Their mother returned to the hut, +and seeing what her dumb daughter was saying, smiled and shook her +head. Her daughter showed her the gingerbread and again made the +noise which expressed joy. + +'I told Ulitka the other day that I'd send a matchmaker to them,' +said the mother. 'She took my words well.' + +Lukashka looked silently at his mother. + +'But how about selling the wine, mother? I need a horse.' + +'I'll cart it when I have time. I must get the barrels ready,' +said the mother, evidently not wishing her son to meddle in +domestic matters. 'When you go out you'll find a bag in the +passage. I borrowed from the neighbours and got something for you +to take back to the cordon; or shall I put it in your saddle-bag?' + +'All right,' answered Lukashka. 'And if Girey Khan should come +across the river send him to me at the cordon, for I shan't get +leave again for a long time now; I have some business with him.' + +He began to get ready to start. + +'I will send him on,' said the old women. 'It seems you have been +spreeing at Yamka's all the time. I went out in the night to see +the cattle, and I think it was your voice I heard singing songs.' + +Lukashka did not reply, but went out into the passage, threw the +bags over his shoulder, tucked up the skirts of his coat, took his +musket, and then stopped for a moment on the threshold. + +'Good-bye, mother!' he said as he closed the gate behind him. +'Send me a small barrel with Nazarka. I promised it to the lads, +and he'll call for it.' + +'May Christ keep you, Lukashka. God be with you! I'll send you +some, some from the new barrel,' said the old woman, going to the +fence: 'But listen,' she added, leaning over the fence. + +The Cossack stopped. + +'You've been making merry here; well, that's all right. Why should +not a young man amuse himself? God has sent you luck and that's +good. But now look out and mind, my son. Don't you go and get into +mischief. Above all, satisfy your superiors: one has to! And I +will sell the wine and find money for a horse and will arrange a +match with the girl for you.' + +'All right, all right!' answered her son, frowning. + +His deaf sister shouted to attract his attention. She pointed to +her head and the palm of her hand, to indicate the shaved head of +a Chechen. Then she frowned, and pretending to aim with a gun, she +shrieked and began rapidly humming and shaking her head. This +meant that Lukashka should kill another Chechen. + +Lukashka understood. He smiled, and shifting the gun at his back +under his cloak stepped lightly and rapidly, and soon disappeared +in the thick mist. + +The old woman, having stood a little while at the gate, returned +silently to the hut and immediately began working. + + + + +Chapter XVIII + + +Lukasha returned to the cordon and at the same time Daddy Eroshka +whistled to his dogs and, climbing over his wattle fence, went to +Olenin's lodging, passing by the back of the houses (he disliked +meeting women before going out hunting or shooting). He found +Olenin still asleep, and even Vanyusha, though awake, was still in +bed and looking round the room considering whether it was not time +to get up, when Daddy Eroshka, gun on shoulder and in full +hunter's trappings, opened the door. + +'A cudgel!' he shouted in his deep voice. 'An alarm! The Chechens +are upon us! Ivan! get the samovar ready for your master, and get +up yourself--quick,' cried the old man. 'That's our way, my good +man! Why even the girls are already up! Look out of the window. +See, she's going for water and you're still sleeping!' + +Olenin awoke and jumped up, feeling fresh and lighthearted at the +sight of the old man and at the sound of his voice. + +'Quick, Vanyusha, quick!' he cried. + +'Is that the way you go hunting?' said the old man. 'Others are +having their breakfast and you are asleep! Lyam! Here!' he called +to his dog. 'Is your gun ready?' he shouted, as loud as if a whole +crowd were in the hut. + +'Well, it's true I'm guilty, but it can't be helped! The powder, +Vanyusha, and the wads!' said Olenin. + +'A fine!' shouted the old man. + +'Du tay voulay vou?' asked Vanyusha, grinning. + +'You're not one of us--your gabble is not like our speech, you +devil!' the old man shouted at Vanyusha, showing the stumps of his +teeth. + +'A first offence must be forgiven,' said Olenin playfully, drawing +on his high boots. + +'The first offence shall be forgiven,' answered Eroshka, 'but if +you oversleep another time you'll be fined a pail of chikhir. When +it gets warmer you won't find the deer.' + +'And even if we do find him he is wiser than we are,' said Olenin, +repeating the words spoken by the old man the evening before, 'and +you can't deceive him!' + +'Yes, laugh away! You kill one first, and then you may talk. Now +then, hurry up! Look, there's the master himself coming to see +you,' added Eroshka, looking out of the window. 'Just see how he's +got himself up. He's put on a new coat so that you should see that +he's an officer. Ah, these people, these people!' + +Sure enough Vanyusha came in and announced that the master of the +house wished to see Olenin. + +'L'arjan!' he remarked profoundly, to forewarn his master of the +meaning of this visitation. Following him, the master of the house +in a new Circassian coat with an officer's stripes on the +shoulders and with polished boots (quite exceptional among +Cossacks) entered the room, swaying from side to side, and +congratulated his lodger on his safe arrival. + +The cornet, Elias Vasilich, was an educated Cossack. He had been +to Russia proper, was a regimental schoolteacher, and above all he +was noble. He wished to appear noble, but one could not help +feeling beneath his grotesque pretence of polish, his affectation, +his self-confidence, and his absurd way of speaking, he was just +the same as Daddy Eroshka. This could also be clearly seen by his +sunburnt face and his hands and his red nose. Olenin asked him to +sit down. + +'Good morning. Father Elias Vasilich,' said Eroshka, rising with +(or so it seemed to Olenin) an ironically low bow. + +'Good morning. Daddy. So you're here already,' said the cornet, +with a careless nod. + +The cornet was a man of about forty, with a grey pointed beard, +skinny and lean, but handsome and very fresh-looking for his age. +Having come to see Olenin he was evidently afraid of being taken +for an ordinary Cossack, and wanted to let Olenin feel his +importance from the first. + +'That's our Egyptian Nimrod,' he remarked, addressing Olenin and +pointing to the old man with a self-satisfied smile. 'A mighty +hunter before the Lord! He's our foremost man on every hand. +You've already been pleased to get acquainted with him.' + +Daddy Eroshka gazed at his feet in their shoes of wet raw hide and +shook his head thoughtfully at the cornet's ability and learning, +and muttered to himself: 'Gyptian Nimvrod! What things he +invents!' + +'Yes, you see we mean to go hunting,' answered Olenin. + +'Yes, sir, exactly,' said the cornet, 'but I have a small business +with you.' + +'What do you want?' + +'Seeing that you are a gentleman,' began the cornet, 'and as I may +understand myself to be in the rank of an officer too, and +therefore we may always progressively negotiate, as gentlemen do.' +(He stopped and looked with a smile at Olenin and at the old man.) +'But if you have the desire with my consent, then, as my wife is a +foolish woman of our class, she could not quite comprehend your +words of yesterday's date. Therefore my quarters might be let for +six rubles to the Regimental Adjutant, without the stables; but I +can always avert that from myself free of charge. But, as you +desire, therefore I, being myself of an officer's rank, can come +to an agreement with you in everything personally, as an +inhabitant of this district, not according to our customs, but can +maintain the conditions in every way....' + +'Speaks clearly!' muttered the old man. + +The cornet continued in the same strain for a long time. At last, +not without difficulty, Olenin gathered that the cornet wished to +let his rooms to him, Olenin, for six rubles a month. The latter +gladly agreed to this, and offered his visitor a glass of tea. The +cornet declined it. + +'According to our silly custom we consider it a sort of sin to +drink out of a "worldly" tumbler,' he said. 'Though, of course, +with my education I may understand, but my wife from her human +weakness...' + +'Well then, will you have some tea?' + +'If you will permit me, I will bring my own particular glass,' +answered the cornet, and stepped out into the porch. + +'Bring me my glass!' he cried. + +In a few minutes the door opened and a young sunburnt arm in a +print sleeve thrust itself in, holding a tumbler in the hand. The +cornet went up, took it, and whispered something to his daughter. +Olenin poured tea for the cornet into the latter's own +'particular' glass, and for Eroshka into a 'worldly' glass. + +'However, I do not desire to detain you,' said the cornet, +scalding his lips and emptying his tumbler. 'I too have a great +liking for fishing, and I am here, so to say, only on leave of +absence for recreation from my duties. I too have the desire to +tempt fortune and see whether some Gifts of the Terek may not fall +to my share. I hope you too will come and see us and have a drink +of our wine, according to the custom of our village,' he added. + +The cornet bowed, shook hands with Olenin, and went out. While +Olenin was getting ready, he heard the cornet giving orders to his +family in an authoritative and sensible tone, and a few minutes +later he saw him pass by the window in a tattered coat with his +trousers rolled up to his knees and a fishing net over his +shoulder. + +'A rascal!' said Daddy Eroshka, emptying his 'worldly' tumbler. +'And will you really pay him six rubles? Was such a thing ever +heard of? They would let you the best hut in the village for two +rubles. What a beast! Why, I'd let you have mine for three!' + +'No, I'll remain here,' said Olenin. + +'Six rubles! ... Clearly it's a fool's money. Eh, eh, eh! answered +the old man. 'Let's have some chikhir, Ivan!' + +Having had a snack and a drink of vodka to prepare themselves for +the road, Olenin and the old man went out together before eight +o'clock. + +At the gate they came up against a wagon to which a pair of oxen +were harnessed. With a white kerchief tied round her head down to +her eyes, a coat over her smock, and wearing high boots, Maryanka +with a long switch in her hand was dragging the oxen by a cord +tied to their horns. + +'Mammy,' said the old man, pretending that he was going to seize +her. + +Maryanka nourished her switch at him and glanced merrily at them +both with her beautiful eyes. + +Olenin felt still more light-hearted. + +'Now then, come on, come on,' he said, throwing his gun on his +shoulder and conscious of the girl's eyes upon him. + +'Gee up!' sounded Maryanka's voice behind them, followed by the +creak of the moving wagon. + +As long as their road lay through the pastures at the back of the +village Eroshka went on talking. He could not forget the cornet +and kept on abusing him. + +'Why are you so angry with him?' asked Olenin. + +'He's stingy. I don't like it,' answered the old man. 'He'll leave +it all behind when he dies! Then who's he saving up for? He's +built two houses, and he's got a second garden from his brother by +a law-suit. And in the matter of papers what a dog he is! They +come to him from other villages to fill up documents. As he writes +it out, exactly so it happens. He gets it quite exact. But who is +he saving for? He's only got one boy and the girl; when she's +married who'll be left?' + +'Well then, he's saving up for her dowry,' said Olenin. + +'What dowry? The girl is sought after, she's a fine girl. But he's +such a devil that he must yet marry her to a rich fellow. He wants +to get a big price for her. There's Luke, a Cossack, a neighbour +and a nephew of mine, a fine lad. It's he who killed the Chechen-- +he has been wooing her for a long time, but he hasn't let him have +her. He's given one excuse, and another, and a third. "The girl's +too young," he says. But I know what he is thinking. He wants to +keep them bowing to him. He's been acting shamefully about that +girl. Still, they will get her for Lukashka, because he is the +best Cossack in the village, a brave, who has killed an abrek and +will be rewarded with a cross.' + +'But how about this? When I was walking up and down the yard last +night, I saw my landlord's daughter and some Cossack kissing,' +said Olenin. + +'You're pretending!' cried the old man, stopping. + +'On my word,' said Olenin. + +'Women are the devil,' said Eroshka pondering. 'But what Cossack +was it?' + +'I couldn't see.' + +'Well, what sort of a cap had he, a white one?' + +'Yes.' + +'And a red coat? About your height?' + +'No, a bit taller.' + +'It's he!' and Eroshka burst out laughing. 'It's himself, it's +Mark. He is Luke, but I call him Mark for a joke. His very self! I +love him. I was just such a one myself. What's the good of minding +them? My sweetheart used to sleep with her mother and her sister- +in-law, but I managed to get in. She used to sleep upstairs; that +witch her mother was a regular demon; it's awful how she hated me. +Well, I used to come with a chum, Girchik his name was. We'd come +under her window and I'd climb on his shoulders, push up the +window and begin groping about. She used to sleep just there on a +bench. Once I woke her up and she nearly called out. She hadn't +recognized me. "Who is there?" she said, and I could not answer. +Her mother was even beginning to stir, but I took off my cap and +shoved it over her mouth; and she at once knew it by a seam in it, +and ran out to me. I used not to want anything then. She'd bring +along clotted cream and grapes and everything,' added Eroshka (who +always explained things practically), 'and she wasn't the only +one. It was a life!' + +'And what now?' + +'Now we'll follow the dog, get a pheasant to settle on a tree, and +then you may fire.' + +'Would you have made up to Maryanka?' + +'Attend to the dogs. I'll tell you tonight,' said the old man, +pointing to his favourite dog, Lyam. + +After a pause they continued talking, while they went about a +hundred paces. Then the old man stopped again and pointed to a +twig that lay across the path. + +'What do you think of that?' he said. 'You think it's nothing? +It's bad that this stick is lying so.' + +'Why is it bad?' + +He smiled. + +'Ah, you don't know anything. Just listen to me. When a stick lies +like that don't you step across it, but go round it or throw it +off the path this way, and say "Father and Son and Holy Ghost," +and then go on with God's blessing. Nothing will happen to you. +That's what the old men used to teach me.' + +'Come, what rubbish!' said Olenin. 'You'd better tell me more +about Maryanka. Does she carry on with Lukashka?' + +'Hush ... be quiet now!' the old man again interrupted in a +whisper: 'just listen, we'll go round through the forest.' + +And the old man, stepping quietly in his soft shoes, led the way +by a narrow path leading into the dense, wild, overgrown forest. +Now and again with a frown he turned to look at Olenin, who +rustled and clattered with his heavy boots and, carrying his gun +carelessly, several times caught the twigs of trees that grew +across the path. + +'Don't make a noise. Step softly, soldier!' the old man whispered +angrily. + +There was a feeling in the air that the sun had risen. The mist +was dissolving but it still enveloped the tops of the trees. The +forest looked terribly high. At every step the aspect changed: +what had appeared like a tree proved to be a bush, and a reed +looked like a tree. + + + + +Chapter XIX + + +The mist had partly lifted, showing the wet reed thatches, and was +now turning into dew that moistened the road and the grass beside +the fence. Smoke rose everywhere in clouds from the chimneys. The +people were going out of the village, some to their work, some to +the river, and some to the cordon. The hunters walked together +along the damp, grass-grown path. The dogs, wagging their tails +and looking at their masters, ran on both sides of them. Myriads +of gnats hovered in the air and pursued the hunters, covering +their backs, eyes, and hands. The air was fragrant with the grass +and with the dampness of the forest. Olenin continually looked +round at the ox-cart in which Maryanka sat urging on the oxen with +a long switch. + +It was calm. The sounds from the village, audible at first, now no +longer reached the sportsmen. Only the brambles cracked as the +dogs ran under them, and now and then birds called to one another. +Olenin knew that danger lurked in the forest, that abreks always +hid in such places. But he knew too that in the forest, for a man +on foot, a gun is a great protection. Not that he was afraid, but +he felt that another in his place might be; and looking into the +damp misty forest and listening to the rare and faint sounds with +strained attention, he changed his hold on his gun and experienced +a pleasant feeling that was new to him. Daddy Eroshka went in +front, stopping and carefully scanning every puddle where an +animal had left a double track, and pointing it out to Olenin. He +hardly spoke at all and only occasionally made remarks in a +whisper. The track they were following had once been made by +wagons, but the grass had long overgrown it. The elm and plane- +tree forest on both sides of them was so dense and overgrown with +creepers that it was impossible to see anything through it. Nearly +every tree was enveloped from top to bottom with wild grape vines, +and dark bramble bushes covered the ground thickly. Every little +glade was overgrown with blackberry bushes and grey feathery +reeds. In places, large hoof-prints and small funnel-shaped +pheasant-trails led from the path into the thicket. The vigour of +the growth of this forest, untrampled by cattle, struck Olenin at +every turn, for he had never seen anything like it. This forest, +the danger, the old man and his mysterious whispering, Maryanka +with her virile upright bearing, and the mountains--all this +seemed to him like a dream. + +'A pheasant has settled,' whispered the old man, looking round and +pulling his cap over his face--'Cover your mug! A pheasant!' he +waved his arm angrily at Olenin and pushed forward almost on all +fours. 'He don't like a man's mug.' + +Olenin was still behind him when the old man stopped and began +examining a tree. A cock-pheasant on the tree clucked at the dog +that was barking at it, and Olenin saw the pheasant; but at that +moment a report, as of a cannon, came from Eroshka's enormous gun, +the bird fluttered up and, losing some feathers, fell to the +ground. Coming up to the old man Olenin disturbed another, and +raising his gun he aimed and fired. The pheasant flew swiftly up +and then, catching at the branches as he fell, dropped like a +stone to the ground. + +'Good man!' the old man (who could not hit a flying bird) shouted, +laughing. + +Having picked up the pheasants they went on. Olenin, excited by +the exercise and the praise, kept addressing remarks to the old +man. + +'Stop! Come this way,' the old man interrupted. 'I noticed the +track of deer here yesterday.' + +After they had turned into the thicket and gone some three hundred +paces they scrambled through into a glade overgrown with reeds and +partly under water. Olenin failed to keep up with the old huntsman +and presently Daddy Eroshka, some twenty paces in front, stooped +down, nodding and beckoning with his arm. On coming up with him +Olenin saw a man's footprint to which the old man was pointing. + +'D'you see?' + +'Yes, well?' said Olenin, trying to speak as calmly as he could. +'A man's footstep!' + +Involuntarily a thought of Cooper's Pathfinder and of abreks +flashed through Olenin's mind, but noticing the mysterious manner +with which the old man moved on, he hesitated to question him and +remained in doubt whether this mysteriousness was caused by fear +of danger or by the sport. + +'No, it's my own footprint,' the old man said quietly, and pointed +to some grass under which the track of an animal was just +perceptible. + +The old man went on; and Olenin kept up with him. + +Descending to lower ground some twenty paces farther on they came +upon a spreading pear-tree, under which, on the black earth, lay +the fresh dung of some animal. + +The spot, all covered over with wild vines, was like a cosy +arbour, dark and cool. + +'He's been here this morning,' said the old man with a sigh; 'the +lair is still damp, quite fresh.' + +Suddenly they heard a terrible crash in the forest some ten paces +from where they stood. They both started and seized their guns, +but they could see nothing and only heard the branches breaking. +The rhythmical rapid thud of galloping was heard for a moment and +then changed into a hollow rumble which resounded farther and +farther off, re-echoing in wider and wider circles through the +forest. Olenin felt as though something had snapped in his heart. +He peered carefully but vainly into the green thicket and then +turned to the old man. Daddy Eroshka with his gun pressed to his +breast stood motionless; his cap was thrust backwards, his eyes +gleamed with an unwonted glow, and his open mouth, with its worn +yellow teeth, seemed to have stiffened in that position. + +'A homed stag!' he muttered, and throwing down his gun in despair +he began pulling at his grey beard, 'Here it stood. We should have +come round by the path.... Fool! fool!' and he gave his beard an +angry tug. Fool! Pig!' he repeated, pulling painfully at his own +beard. Through the forest something seemed to fly away in the +mist, and ever farther and farther off was heard the sound of the +flight of the stag. + +It was already dusk when, hungry, tired, but full of vigour, +Olenin returned with the old man. Dinner was ready. He ate and +drank with the old man till he felt warm and merry. Olenin then +went out into the porch. Again, to the west, the mountains rose +before his eyes. Again the old man told his endless stories of +hunting, of abreks, of sweethearts, and of all that free and +reckless life. Again the fair Maryanka went in and out and across +the yard, her beautiful powerful form outlined by her smock. + + + + +Chapter XX + + +The next day Olenin went alone to the spot where he and the old +man startled the stag. Instead of passing round through the gate +he climbed over the prickly hedge, as everybody else did, and +before he had had time to pull out the thorns that had caught in +his coat, his dog, which had run on in front, started two +pheasants. He had hardly stepped among the briers when the +pheasants began to rise at every step (the old man had not shown +him that place the day before as he meant to keep it for shooting +from behind the screen). Olenin fired twelve times and killed five +pheasants, but clambering after them through the briers he got so +fatigued that he was drenched with perspiration. He called off his +dog, uncocked his gun, put in a bullet above the small shot, and +brushing away the mosquitoes with the wide sleeve of his +Circassian coat he went slowly to the spot where they had been the +day before. It was however impossible to keep back the dog, who +found trails on the very path, and Olenin killed two more +pheasants, so that after being detained by this it was getting +towards noon before he began to find the place he was looking for. + +The day was perfectly clear, calm, and hot. The morning moisture +had dried up even in the forest, and myriads of mosquitoes +literally covered his face, his back, and his arms. His dog had +turned from black to grey, its back being covered with mosquitoes, +and so had Olenin's coat through which the insects thrust their +stings. Olenin was ready to run away from them and it seemed to +him that it was impossible to live in this country in the summer. +He was about to go home, but remembering that other people managed +to endure such pain he resolved to bear it and gave himself up to +be devoured. And strange to say, by noontime the feeling became +actually pleasant. He even felt that without this mosquito-filled +atmosphere around him, and that mosquito-paste mingled with +perspiration which his hand smeared over his face, and that +unceasing irritation all over his body, the forest would lose for +him some of its character and charm. These myriads of insects were +so well suited to that monstrously lavish wild vegetation, these +multitudes of birds and beasts which filled the forest, this dark +foliage, this hot scented air, these runlets filled with turbid +water which everywhere soaked through from the Terek and gurgled +here and there under the overhanging leaves, that the very thing +which had at first seemed to him dreadful and intolerable now +seemed pleasant. After going round the place where yesterday they +had found the animal and not finding anything, he felt inclined to +rest. The sun stood right above the forest and poured its +perpendicular rays down on his back and head whenever he came out +into a glade or onto the road. The seven heavy pheasants dragged +painfully at his waist. Having found the traces of yesterday's +stag he crept under a bush into the thicket just where the stag +had lain, and lay down in its lair. He examined the dark foliage +around him, the place marked by the stag's perspiration and +yesterday's dung, the imprint of the stag's knees, the bit of +black earth it had kicked up, and his own footprints of the day +before. He felt cool and comfortable and did not think of or wish +for anything. And suddenly he was overcome by such a strange +feeling of causeless joy and of love for everything, that from an +old habit of his childhood he began crossing himself and thanking +someone. Suddenly, with extraordinary clearness, he thought: 'Here +am I, Dmitri Olenin, a being quite distinct from every other +being, now lying all alone Heaven only knows where--where a stag +used to live--an old stag, a beautiful stag who perhaps had never +seen a man, and in a place where no human being has ever sat or +thought these thoughts. Here I sit, and around me stand old and +young trees, one of them festooned with wild grape vines, and +pheasants are fluttering, driving one another about and perhaps +scenting their murdered brothers.' He felt his pheasants, examined +them, and wiped the warm blood off his hand onto his coat. +'Perhaps the jackals scent them and with dissatisfied faces go off +in another direction: above me, flying in among the leaves which +to them seem enormous islands, mosquitoes hang in the air and +buzz: one, two, three, four, a hundred, a thousand, a million +mosquitoes, and all of them buzz something or other and each one +of them is separate from all else and is just such a separate +Dmitri Olenin as I am myself.' He vividly imagined what the +mosquitoes buzzed: 'This way, this way, lads! Here's some one we +can eat!' They buzzed and stuck to him. And it was clear to him +that he was not a Russian nobleman, a member of Moscow society, +the friend and relation of so-and-so and so-and-so, but just such +a mosquito, or pheasant, or deer, as those that were now living +all around him. 'Just as they, just as Daddy Eroshka, I shall live +awhile and die, and as he says truly: + +"grass will grow and nothing more". + +'But what though the grass does grow?' he continued thinking. +'Still I must live and be happy, because happiness is all I +desire. Never mind what I am--an animal like all the rest, above +whom the grass will grow and nothing more; or a frame in which a +bit of the one God has been set,--still I must live in the very +best way. How then must I live to be happy, and why was I not +happy before?' And he began to recall his former life and he felt +disgusted with himself. He appeared to himself to have been +terribly exacting and selfish, though he now saw that all the +while he really needed nothing for himself. And he looked round at +the foliage with the light shining through it, at the setting sun +and the clear sky, and he felt just as happy as before. 'Why am I +happy, and what used I to live for?' thought he. 'How much I +exacted for myself; how I schemed and did not manage to gain +anything but shame and sorrow! and, there now, I require nothing +to be happy;' and suddenly a new light seemed to reveal itself to +him. 'Happiness is this!' he said to himself. 'Happiness lies in +living for others. That is evident. The desire for happiness is +innate in every man; therefore it is legitimate. When trying to +satisfy it selfishly--that is, by seeking for oneself riches, +fame, comforts, or love--it may happen that circumstances arise +which make it impossible to satisfy these desires. It follows that +it is these desires that are illegitimate, but not the need for +happiness. But what desires can always be satisfied despite +external circumstances? What are they? Love, self-sacrifice.' He +was so glad and excited when he had discovered this, as it seemed +to him, new truth, that he jumped up and began impatiently seeking +some one to sacrifice himself for, to do good to and to love. +'Since one wants nothing for oneself,' he kept thinking, 'why not +live for others?' He took up his gun with the intention of +returning home quickly to think this out and to find an +opportunity of doing good. He made his way out of the thicket. +When he had come out into the glade he looked around him; the sun +was no longer visible above the tree-tops. It had grown cooler and +the place seemed to him quite strange and not like the country +round the village. Everything seemed changed--the weather and the +character of the forest; the sky was wrapped in clouds, the wind +was rustling in the tree-tops, and all around nothing was visible +but reeds and dying broken-down trees. He called to his dog who +had run away to follow some animal, and his voice came back as in +a desert. And suddenly he was seized with a terrible sense of +weirdness. He grew frightened. He remembered the abreks and the +murders he had been told about, and he expected every moment that +an abrek would spring from behind every bush and he would have to +defend his life and die, or be a coward. He thought of God and of +the future life as for long he had not thought about them. And all +around was that same gloomy stern wild nature. 'And is it worth +while living for oneself,' thought he, 'when at any moment you may +die, and die without having done any good, and so that no one will +know of it?' He went in the direction where he fancied the village +lay. Of his shooting he had no further thought; but he felt tired +to death and peered round at every bush and tree with particular +attention and almost with terror, expecting every moment to be +called to account for his life. After having wandered about for a +considerable time he came upon a ditch down which was flowing cold +sandy water from the Terek, and, not to go astray any longer, he +decided to follow it. He went on without knowing where the ditch +would lead him. Suddenly the reeds behind him crackled. He +shuddered and seized his gun, and then felt ashamed of himself: +the over-excited dog, panting hard, had thrown itself into the +cold water of the ditch and was lapping it! + +He too had a drink, and then followed the dog in the direction it +wished to go, thinking it would lead him to the village. But +despite the dog's company everything around him seemed still more +dreary. The forest grew darker and the wind grew stronger and +stronger in the tops of the broken old trees. Some large birds +circled screeching round their nests in those trees. The +vegetation grew poorer and he came oftener and oftener upon +rustling reeds and bare sandy spaces covered with animal +footprints. To the howling of the wind was added another kind of +cheerless monotonous roar. Altogether his spirits became gloomy. +Putting his hand behind him he felt his pheasants, and found one +missing. It had broken off and was lost, and only the bleeding +head and beak remained sticking in his belt. He felt more +frightened than he had ever done before. He began to pray to God, +and feared above all that he might die without having done +anything good or kind; and he so wanted to live, and to live so as +to perform a feat of self-sacrifice. + + + + +Chapter XXI + + +Suddenly it was as though the sun had shone into his soul. He +heard Russian being spoken, and also heard the rapid smooth flow +of the Terek, and a few steps farther in front of him saw the +brown moving surface of the river, with the dim-coloured wet sand +of its banks and shallows, the distant steppe, the cordon watch- +tower outlined above the water, a saddled and hobbled horse among +the brambles, and then the mountains opening out before him. The +red sun appeared for an instant from under a cloud and its last +rays glittered brightly along the river over the reeds, on the +watch-tower, and on a group of Cossacks, among whom Lukashka's +vigorous figure attracted Olenin's involuntary attention. + +Olenin felt that he was again, without any apparent cause, +perfectly happy. He had come upon the Nizhni-Prototsk post on the +Terek, opposite a pro-Russian Tartar village on the other side of +the river. He accosted the Cossacks, but not finding as yet any +excuse for doing anyone a kindness, he entered the hut; nor in the +hut did he find any such opportunity. The Cossacks received him +coldly. On entering the mud hut he lit a cigarette. The Cossacks +paid little attention to him, first because he was smoking a +cigarette, and secondly because they had something else to divert +them that evening. Some hostile Chechens, relatives of the abrek +who had been killed, had come from the hills with a scout to +ransom the body; and the Cossacks were waiting for their +Commanding Officer's arrival from the village. The dead man's +brother, tall and well shaped with a short cropped beard which was +dyed red, despite his very tattered coat and cap was calm and +majestic as a king. His face was very like that of the dead abrek. +He did not deign to look at anyone, and never once glanced at the +dead body, but sitting on his heels in the shade he spat as he +smoked his short pipe, and occasionally uttered some few guttural +sounds of command, which were respectfully listened to by his +companion. He was evidently a brave who had met Russians more than +once before in quite other circumstances, and nothing about them +could astonish or even interest him. Olenin was about to approach +the dead body and had begun to look at it when the brother, +looking up at him from under his brows with calm contempt, said +something sharply and angrily. The scout hastened to cover the +dead man's face with his coat. Olenin was struck by the dignified +and stem expression of the brave's face. He began to speak to him, +asking from what village he came, but the Chechen, scarcely giving +him a glance, spat contemptuously and turned away. Olenin was so +surprised at the Chechen not being interested in him that he could +only put it down to the man's stupidity or ignorance of Russian; +so he turned to the scout, who also acted as interpreter. The +scout was as ragged as the other, but instead of being red-haired +he was black-haired, restless, with extremely white gleaming teeth +and sparkling black eyes. The scout willingly entered into +conversation and asked for a cigarette. + +'There were five brothers,' began the scout in his broken Russian. +'This is the third brother the Russians have killed, only two are +left. He is a brave, a great brave!' he said, pointing to the +Chechen. 'When they killed Ahmet Khan (the dead brave) this one +was sitting on the opposite bank among the reeds. He saw it all. +Saw him laid in the skiff and brought to the bank. He sat there +till the night and wished to kill the old man, but the others +would not let him.' + +Lukashka went up to the speaker, and sat down. 'Of what village?' +asked he. + +'From there in the hills,' replied the scout, pointing to the +misty bluish gorge beyond the Terek. 'Do you know Suuk-su? It is +about eight miles beyond that.' + +'Do you know Girey Khan in Suuk-su?' asked Lukashka, evidently +proud of the acquaintance. 'He is my kunak.' + +'He is my neighbour,' answered the scout. + +'He's a trump!' and Lukashka, evidently much interested, began +talking to the scout in Tartar. + +Presently a Cossack captain, with the head of the village, arrived +on horseback with a suite of two Cossacks. The captain--one of the +new type of Cossack officers--wished the Cossacks 'Good health,' +but no one shouted in reply, 'Hail! Good health to your honour,' +as is customary in the Russian Army, and only a few replied with a +bow. Some, and among them Lukashka, rose and stood erect. The +corporal replied that all was well at the outposts. All this +seemed ridiculous: it was as if these Cossacks were playing at +being soldiers. But these formalities soon gave place to ordinary +ways of behaviour, and the captain, who was a smart Cossack just +like the others, began speaking fluently in Tartar to the +interpreter. They filled in some document, gave it to the scout, +and received from him some money. Then they approached the body. + +'Which of you is Luke Gavrilov?' asked the captain. + +Lukishka took off his cap and came forward. + +'I have reported your exploit to the Commander. I don't know what +will come of it. I have recommended you for a cross; you're too +young to be made a sergeant. Can you read?' + +'I can't.' + +'But what a fine fellow to look at!' said the captain, again +playing the commander. 'Put on your cap. Which of the Gavrilovs +does he come of? ... the Broad, eh?' + +'His nephew,' replied the corporal. + +'I know, I know. Well, lend a hand, help them,' he said, turning +to the Cossacks. + +Lukashka's face shone with joy and seemed handsomer than usual. He +moved away from the corporal, and having put on his cap sat down +beside Olenin. + +When the body had been carried to the skiff the brother Chechen +descended to the bank. The Cossacks involuntarily stepped aside to +let him pass. He jumped into the boat and pushed off from the bank +with his powerful leg, and now, as Olenin noticed, for the first +time threw a rapid glance at all the Cossacks and then abruptly +asked his companion a question. The latter answered something and +pointed to Lukashka. The Chechen looked at him and, turning slowly +away, gazed at the opposite bank. That look expressed not hatred +but cold contempt. He again made some remark. + +'What is he saying?' Olenin asked of the fidgety scout. + +'Yours kill ours, ours slay yours. It's always the same,' replied +the scout, evidently inventing, and he smiled, showing his white +teeth, as he jumped into the skiff. + +The dead man's brother sat motionless, gazing at the opposite +bank. He was so full of hatred and contempt that there was nothing +on this side of the river that moved his curiosity. The scout, +standing up at one end of the skiff and dipping his paddle now on +one side now on the other, steered skilfully while talking +incessantly. The skiff became smaller and smaller as it moved +obliquely across the stream, the voices became scarcely audible, +and at last, still within sight, they landed on the opposite bank +where their horses stood waiting. There they lifted out the corpse +and (though the horse shied) laid it across one of the saddles, +mounted, and rode at a foot-pace along the road past a Tartar +village from which a crowd came out to look at them. The Cossacks +on the Russian side of the river were highly satisfied and jovial. +Laughter and jokes were heard on all sides. The captain and the +head of the village entered the mud hut to regale themselves. +Lukashka, vainly striving to impart a sedate expression to his +merry face, sat down with his elbows on his knees beside Olenin +and whittled away at a stick. + +'Why do you smoke?' he said with assumed curiosity. 'Is it good?' + +He evidently spoke because he noticed Olenin felt ill at ease and +isolated among the Cossacks. + +'It's just a habit,' answered Olenin. 'Why?' + +'H'm, if one of us were to smoke there would be a row! Look there +now, the mountains are not far off,' continued Lukashka, 'yet you +can't get there! How will you get back alone? It's getting dark. +I'll take you, if you like. You ask the corporal to give me +leave.' + +'What a fine fellow!' thought Olenin, looking at the Cossack's +bright face. He remembered Maryanka and the kiss he had heard by +the gate, and he was sorry for Lukashka and his want of culture. +'What confusion it is,' he thought. 'A man kills another and is +happy and satisfied with himself as if he had done something +excellent. Can it be that nothing tells him that it is not a +reason for any rejoicing, and that happiness lies not in killing, +but in sacrificing oneself?' + +'Well, you had better not meet him again now, mate!' said one of +the Cossacks who had seen the skiff off, addressing Lukashka. 'Did +you hear him asking about you?' + +Lukashka raised his head. + +'My godson?' said Lukashka, meaning by that word the dead Chechen. + +'Your godson won't rise, but the red one is the godson's brother!' + +'Let him thank God that he got off whole himself,' replied +Lukashka. + +'What are you glad about?' asked Olenin. 'Supposing your brother +had been killed; would you be glad?' + +The Cossack looked at Olenin with laughing eyes. He seemed to have +understood all that Olenin wished to say to him, but to be above +such considerations. + +'Well, that happens too! Don't our fellows get killed sometimes?' + + + + +Chapter XXII + + +The Captain and the head of the village rode away, and Olenin, to +please Lukashka as well as to avoid going back alone through the +dark forest, asked the corporal to give Lukashka leave, and the +corporal did so. Olenin thought that Lukashka wanted to see +Maryanka and he was also glad of the companionship of such a +pleasant-looking and sociable Cossack. Lukashka and Maryanka he +involuntarily united in his mind, and he found pleasure in +thinking about them. 'He loves Maryanka,' thought Olenin, 'and I +could love her,' and a new and powerful emotion of tenderness +overcame him as they walked homewards together through the dark +forest. Lukashka too felt happy; something akin to love made +itself felt between these two very different young men. Every time +they glanced at one another they wanted to laugh. + +'By which gate do you enter?' asked Olenin. + +'By the middle one. But I'll see you as far as the marsh. After +that you have nothing to fear.' + +Olenin laughed. + +'Do you think I am afraid? Go back, and thank you. I can get on +alone.' + +'It's all right! What have I to do? And how can you help being +afraid? Even we are afraid,' said Lukashka to set Olenin's self- +esteem at rest, and he laughed too. + +'Then come in with me. We'll have a talk and a drink and in the +morning you can go back.' + +'Couldn't I find a place to spend the night?' laughed Lukashka. +'But the corporal asked me to go back.' + +'I heard you singing last night, and also saw you.' + +'Every one...' and Luke swayed his head. + +'Is it true you are getting married?' asked Olenin. + +'Mother wants me to marry. But I have not got a horse yet.' + +'Aren't you in the regular service?' + +'Oh dear no! I've only just joined, and have not got a horse yet, +and don't know how to get one. That's why the marriage does not +come off.' + +'And what would a horse cost?' + +'We were bargaining for one beyond the river the other day and +they would not take sixty rubles for it, though it is a Nogay +horse.' + +'Will you come and be my drabant?' (A drabant was a kind of +orderly attached to an officer when campaigning.) 'I'll get it +arranged and will give you a horse,' said Olenin suddenly. 'Really +now, I have two and I don't want both.' + +'How--don't want it?' Lukashka said, laughing. 'Why should you +make me a present? We'll get on by ourselves by God's help.' + +'No, really! Or don't you want to be a drabant?' said Olenin, glad +that it had entered his head to give a horse to Lukashka, though, +without knowing why, he felt uncomfortable and confused and did +not know what to say when he tried to speak. + +Lukashka was the first to break the silence. + +'Have you a house of your own in Russia?' he asked. + +Olenin could not refrain from replying that he had not only one, +but several houses. + +'A good house? Bigger than ours?' asked Lukashka good-naturedly. + +'Much bigger; ten times as big and three storeys high,' replied +Olenin. + +'And have you horses such as ours?' + +'I have a hundred horses, worth three or four hundred rubles each, +but they are not like yours. They are trotters, you know.... But +still, I like the horses here best.' + +'Well, and did you come here of your own free will, or were you +sent?' said Lukashka, laughing at him. 'Look! that's where you +lost your way,' he added, 'you should have turned to the right.' + +'I came by my own wish,' replied Olenin. 'I wanted to see your +parts and to join some expeditions.' + +'I would go on an expedition any day,' said Lukashka. 'D'you hear +the jackals howling?' he added, listening. + +'I say, don't you feel any horror at having killed a man?' asked +Olenin. + +'What's there to be frightened about? But I should like to join an +expedition,' Lukashka repeated. 'How I want to! How I want to!' + +'Perhaps we may be going together. Our company is going before the +holidays, and your "hundred" too.' + +'And what did you want to come here for? You've a house and horses +and serfs. In your place I'd do nothing but make merry! And what +is your rank?' + +'I am a cadet, but have been recommended for a commission.' + +'Well, if you're not bragging about your home, if I were you I'd +never have left it! Yes, I'd never have gone away anywhere. Do you +find it pleasant living among us?' + +'Yes, very pleasant,' answered Olenin. + +It had grown quite dark before, talking in this way, they +approached the village. They were still surrounded by the deep +gloom of the forest. The wind howled through the tree-tops. The +jackals suddenly seemed to be crying close beside them, howling, +chuckling, and sobbing; but ahead of them in the village the +sounds of women's voices and the barking of dogs could already be +heard; the outlines of the huts were clearly to be seen; lights +gleamed and the air was filled with the peculiar smell of kisyak +smoke. Olenin felt keenly, that night especially, that here in +this village was his home, his family, all his happiness, and that +he never had and never would live so happily anywhere as he did in +this Cossack village. He was so fond of everybody and especially +of Lukashka that night. On reaching home, to Lukashka's great +surprise, Olenin with his own hands led out of the shed a horse he +had bought in Groznoe--it was not the one he usually rode but +another--not a bad horse though no longer young, and gave it to +Lukashka. + +'Why should you give me a present?' said Lukashka, 'I have not yet +done anything for you.' + +'Really it is nothing,' answered Olenin. 'Take it, and you will +give me a present, and we'll go on an expedition against the enemy +together.' + +Lukashka became confused. + +'But what d'you mean by it? As if a horse were of little value,' +he said without looking at the horse. + +'Take it, take it! If you don't you will offend me. Vanyusha! Take +the grey horse to his house.' + +Lukashka took hold of the halter. + +'Well then, thank you! This is something unexpected, undreamt of.' + +Olenin was as happy as a boy of twelve. + +'Tie it up here. It's a good horse. I bought it in Groznoe; it +gallops splendidly! Vanyusha, bring us some chikhir. Come into the +hut.' + +The wine was brought. Lukashka sat down and took the wine-bowl. + +'God willing I'll find a way to repay you,' he said, finishing his +wine. 'How are you called?' + +'Dmitri Andreich.' + +'Well, 'Mitry Andreich, God bless you. We will be kunaks. Now you +must come to see us. Though we are not rich people still we can +treat a kunak, and I will tell mother in case you need anything-- +clotted cream or grapes--and if you come to the cordon I'm your +servant to go hunting or to go across the river, anywhere you +like! There now, only the other day, what a boar I killed, and I +divided it among the Cossacks, but if I had only known, I'd have +given it to you.' 'That's all right, thank you! But don't harness +the horse, it has never been in harness.' + +'Why harness the horse? And there is something else I'll tell you +if you like,' said Lukashka, bending his head. 'I have a kunak, +Girey Khan. He asked me to lie in ambush by the road where they +come down from the mountains. Shall we go together? I'll not +betray you. I'll be your murid.' + +'Yes, we'll go; we'll go some day.' + +Lukashka seemed quite to have quieted down and to have understood +Olenin's attitude towards him. His calmness and the ease of his +behaviour surprised Olenin, and he did not even quite like it. +They talked long, and it was late when Lukashka, not tipsy (he +never was tipsy) but having drunk a good deal, left Olenin after +shaking hands. + +Olenin looked out of the window to see what he would do. Lukashka +went out, hanging his head. Then, having led the horse out of the +gate, he suddenly shook his head, threw the reins of the halter +over its head, sprang onto its back like a cat, gave a wild shout, +and galloped down the street. Olenin expected that Lukishka would +go to share his joy with Maryanka, but though he did not do so +Olenin still felt his soul more at ease than ever before in his +life. He was as delighted as a boy, and could not refrain from +telling Vanyusha not only that he had given Lukashka the horse, +but also why he had done it, as well as his new theory of +happiness. Vanyusha did not approve of his theory, and announced +that 'l'argent il n'y a pas!' and that therefore it was all +nonsense. + +Lukashka rode home, jumped off the horse, and handed it over to +his mother, telling her to let it out with the communal Cossack +herd. He himself had to return to the cordon that same night. His +deaf sister undertook to take the horse, and explained by signs +that when she saw the man who had given the horse, she would bow +down at his feet. The old woman only shook her head at her son's +story, and decided in her own mind that he had stolen it. She +therefore told the deaf girl to take it to the herd before +daybreak. + +Lukashka went back alone to the cordon pondering over Olenin's +action. Though he did not consider the horse a good one, yet it +was worth at least forty rubles and Lukashka was very glad to have +the present. But why it had been given him he could not at all +understand, and therefore he did not experience the least feeling +of gratitude. On the contrary, vague suspicions that the cadet had +some evil intentions filled his mind. What those intentions were +he could not decide, but neither could he admit the idea that a +stranger would give him a horse worth forty rubles for nothing, +just out of kindness; it seemed impossible. Had he been drunk one +might understand it! He might have wished to show off. But the +cadet had been sober, and therefore must have wished to bribe him +to do something wrong. 'Eh, humbug!' thought Lukashka. 'Haven't I +got the horse and we'll see later on. I'm not a fool myself and we +shall see who'll get the better of the other,' he thought, feeling +the necessity of being on his guard, and therefore arousing in +himself unfriendly feelings towards Olenin. He told no one how he +had got the horse. To some he said he had bought it, to others he +replied evasively. However, the truth soon got about in the +village, and Lukashka's mother and Maryanka, as well as Elias +Vasilich and other Cossacks, when they heard of Olenin's +unnecessary gift, were perplexed, and began to be on their guard +against the cadet. But despite their fears his action aroused in +them a great respect for his simplicity and wealth. + +'Have you heard,' said one, 'that the cadet quartered on Elias +Vasilich has thrown a fifty-ruble horse at Lukashka? He's +rich! ...' + +'Yes, I heard of it,' replied another profoundly, 'he must have +done him some great service. We shall see what will come of this +cadet. Eh! what luck that Snatcher has!' + +'Those cadets are crafty, awfully crafty,' said a third. 'See if +he don't go setting fire to a building, or doing something!' + + + + +Chapter XXIII + + +Olenin's life went on with monotonous regularity. He had little +intercourse with the commanding officers or with his equals. The +position of a rich cadet in the Caucasus was peculiarly +advantageous in this respect. He was not sent out to work, or for +training. As a reward for going on an expedition he was +recommended for a commission, and meanwhile he was left in peace. +The officers regarded him as an aristocrat and behaved towards him +with dignity. Cardplaying and the officers' carousals accompanied +by the soldier-singers, of which he had had experience when he was +with the detachment, did not seem to him attractive, and he also +avoided the society and life of the officers in the village. The +life of officers stationed in a Cossack village has long had its +own definite form. Just as every cadet or officer when in a fort +regularly drinks porter, plays cards, and discusses the rewards +given for taking part in the expeditions, so in the Cossack +villages he regularly drinks chikhir with his hosts, treats the +girls to sweet-meats and honey, dangles after the Cossack women, +and falls in love, and occasionally marries there. Olenin always +took his own path and had an unconscious objection to the beaten +tracks. And here, too, he did not follow the ruts of a Caucasian +officer's life. + +It came quite naturally to him to wake up at daybreak. After +drinking tea and admiring from his porch the mountains, the +morning, and Maryanka, he would put on a tattered ox-hide coat, +sandals of soaked raw hide, buckle on a dagger, take a gun, put +cigarettes and some lunch in a little bag, call his dog, and soon +after five o'clock would start for the forest beyond the village. +Towards seven in the evening he would return tired and hungry with +five or six pheasants hanging from his belt (sometimes with some +other animal) and with his bag of food and cigarettes untouched. +If the thoughts in his head had lain like the lunch and cigarettes +in the bag, one might have seen that during all those fourteen +hours not a single thought had moved in it. He returned morally +fresh, strong, and perfectly happy, and he could not tell what he +had been thinking about all the time. Were they ideas, memories, +or dreams that had been flitting through his mind? They were +frequently all three. He would rouse himself and ask what he had +been thinking about; and would see himself as a Cossack working in +a vineyard with his Cossack wife, or an abrek in the mountains, or +a boar running away from himself. And all the time he kept peering +and watching for a pheasant, a boar, or a deer. + +In the evening Daddy Eroshka would be sure to be sitting with him. +Vanyusha would bring a jug of chikhir, and they would converse +quietly, drink, and separate to go quite contentedly to bed. The +next day he would again go shooting, again be healthily weary, +again they would sit conversing and drink their fill, and again be +happy. Sometimes on a holiday or day of rest Olenin spent the +whole day at home. Then his chief occupation was watching +Maryanka, whose every movement, without realizing it himself, he +followed greedily from his window or his porch. He regarded +Maryanka and loved her (so he thought) just as he loved the beauty +of the mountains and the sky, and he had no thought of entering +into any relations with her. It seemed to him that between him and +her such relations as there were between her and the Cossack +Lukashka could not exist, and still less such as often existed +between rich officers and other Cossack girls. It seemed to him +that if he tried to do as his fellow officers did, he would +exchange his complete enjoyment of contemplation for an abyss of +suffering, disillusionment, and remorse. Besides, he had already +achieved a triumph of self-sacrifice in connexion with her which +had given him great pleasure, and above all he was in a way afraid +of Maryanka and would not for anything have ventured to utter a +word of love to her lightly. + +Once during the summer, when Olenin had not gone out shooting but +was sitting at home, quite unexpectedly a Moscow acquaintance, a +very young man whom he had met in society, came in. + +'Ah, mon cher, my dear fellow, how glad I was when I heard that +you were here!' he began in his Moscow French, and he went on +intermingling French words in his remarks. 'They said, "Olenin". +What Olenin? and I was so pleased.... Fancy fate bringing us +together here! Well, and how are you? How? Why?' and Prince +Beletski told his whole story: how he had temporarily entered the +regiment, how the. Commander-in-Chief had offered to take him as +an adjutant, and how he would take up the post after this campaign +although personally he felt quite indifferent about it. + +'Living here in this hole one must at least make a career--get a +cross--or a rank--be transferred to the Guards. That is quite +indispensable, not for myself but for the sake of my relations and +friends. The prince received me very well; he is a very decent +fellow,' said Beletski, and went on unceasingly. 'I have been +recommended for the St. Anna Cross for the expedition. Now I shall +stay here a bit until we start on the campaign. It's capital here. +What women! Well, and how are you getting on? I was told by our +captain, Startsev you know, a kind-hearted stupid creature.... +Well, he said you were living like an awful savage, seeing no one! +I quite understand you don't want to be mixed up with the set of +officers we have here. I am so glad now you and I will be able to +see something of one another. I have put up at the Cossack +corporal's house. There is such a girl there. Ustenka! I tell you +she's just charming.' + +And more and more French and Russian words came pouring forth from +that world which Olenin thought he had left for ever. The general +opinion about Beletski was that he was a nice, good-natured +fellow. Perhaps he really was; but in spite of his pretty, good- +natured face, Olenin thought him extremely unpleasant. He seemed +just to exhale that filthiness which Olenin had forsworn. What +vexed him most was that he could not--had not the strength-- +abruptly to repulse this man who came from that world: as if that +old world he used to belong to had an irresistible claim on him. +Olenin felt angry with Beletski and with himself, yet against his +wish he introduced French phrases into his own conversation, was +interested in the Commander-in-Chief and in their Moscow +acquaintances, and because in this Cossack village he and Beletski +both spoke French, he spoke contemptuously of their fellow +officers and of the Cossacks, and was friendly with Beletski, +promising to visit him and inviting him to drop in to see him. +Olenin however did not himself go to see Beletski. Vanyusha for +his part approved of Beletski, remarking that he was a real +gentleman. + +Beletski at once adopted the customary life of a rich officer in a +Cossack village. Before Olenin's eyes, in one month he came to be +like an old resident of the village; he made the old men drunk, +arranged evening parties, and himself went to parties arranged by +the girls--bragged of his conquests, and even got so far that, for +some unknown reason, the women and girls began calling him +grandad, and the Cossacks, to whom a man who loved wine and women +was clearly understandable, got used to him and even liked him +better than they did Olenin, who was a puzzle to them. + + + + +Chapter XXIV + + +It was five in the morning. Vanyusha was in the porch heating the +samovar, and using the leg of a long boot instead of bellows. +Olenin had already ridden off to bathe in the Terek. (He had +recently invented a new amusement: to swim his horse in the +river.) His landlady was in her outhouse, and the dense smoke of +the kindling fire rose from the chimney. The girl was milking the +buffalo cow in the shed. 'Can't keep quiet, the damned thing!' +came her impatient voice, followed by the rhythmical sound of +milking. + +From the street in front of the house horses' hoofs were heard +clattering briskly, and Olenin, riding bareback on a handsome +dark-grey horse which was still wet and shining, rode up to the +gate. Maryanka's handsome head, tied round with a red kerchief, +appeared from the shed and again disappeared. Olenin was wearing a +red silk shirt, a white Circassian coat girdled with a strap which +carried a dagger, and a tall cap. He sat his well-fed wet horse +with a slightly conscious elegance and, holding his gun at his +back, stooped to open the gate. His hair was still wet, and his +face shone with youth and health. He thought himself handsome, +agile, and like a brave; but he was mistaken. To any experienced +Caucasian he was still only a soldier. When he noticed that the +girl had put out her head he stooped with particular rested on the +ground without altering their shape; how her strong arms with the +sleeves rolled up, exerting the muscles, used the spade almost as +if in anger, and how her deep dark eyes sometimes glanced at him. +Though the delicate brows frowned, yet her eyes expressed pleasure +and a knowledge of her own beauty. + +'I say, Olenin, have you been up long?' said Beletski as he +entered the yard dressed in the coat of a Caucasian officer. + +'Ah, Beletski,' replied Olenin, holding out his hand. 'How is it +you are out so early?' + +'I had to. I was driven out; we are having a ball tonight. +Maryanka, of course you'll come to Ustenka's?' he added, turning +to the girl. + +Olenin felt surprised that Beletski could address this woman so +easily. But Maryanka, as though she had not heard him, bent her +head, and throwing the spade across her shoulder went with her +firm masculine tread towards the outhouse. + +'She's shy, the wench is shy,' Beletski called after her. 'Shy of +you,' he added as, smiling gaily, he ran up the steps of the +porch. + +'How is it you are having a ball and have been driven out?' + +'It's at Ustenka's, at my landlady's, that the ball is, and you +two are invited. A ball consists of a pie and a gathering of +girls.' + +'What should we do there?' + +Beletski smiled knowingly and winked, jerking his head in the +direction of the outhouse into which Maryanka had disappeared. + +Olenin shrugged his shoulders and blushed. + +'Well, really you are a strange fellow!' said he. + +'Come now, don't pretend' + +Olenin frowned, and Beletski noticing this smiled insinuatingly. +'Oh, come, what do you mean?' he said, 'living in the same house-- +and such a fine girl, a splendid girl, a perfect beauty' + +'Wonderfully beautiful! I never saw such a woman before,' replied +Olenin. + +'Well then?' said Beletski, quite unable to understand the +situation. + +'It may be strange,' replied Olenin, 'but why should I not say +what is true? Since I have lived here women don't seem to exist +for me. And it is so good, really! Now what can there be in common +between us and women like these? Eroshka--that's a different +matter! He and I have a passion in common--sport.' + +'There now! In common! And what have I in common with Amalia +Ivanovna? It's the same thing! You may say they're not very clean- +-that's another matter... A la guerre, comme a la guerre! ...' + +'But I have never known any Amalia Ivanovas, and have never known +how to behave with women of that sort,' replied Olenin. 'One +cannot respect them, but these I do respect.' + +'Well go on respecting them! Who wants to prevent you?' + +Olenin did not reply. He evidently wanted to complete. what he had +begun to say. It was very near his heart. + +'I know I am an exception...' He was visibly confused. 'But my +life has so shaped itself that I not only see no necessity to +renounce my rules, but I could not live here, let alone live as +happily as I am doing, were I to live as you do. Therefore I look +for something quite different from what you look for.' + +Beletski raised his eyebrows incredulously. 'Anyhow, come to me +this evening; Maryanka will be there and I will make you +acquainted. Do come, please! If you feel dull you can go away. +Will you come?' + +'I would come, but to speak frankly I am afraid of being' +seriously carried away.' + +'Oh, oh, oh!' shouted Beletski. 'Only come, and I'll see that you +aren't. Will you? On your word?' + +'I would come, but really I don't understand what we shall do; +what part we shall play!' + +'Please, I beg of you. You will come?' + +'Yes, perhaps I'll come,' said Olenin. + +'Really now! Charming women such as one sees nowhere else, and to +live like a monk! What an idea! Why spoil your life and not make +use of what is at hand? Have you heard that our company is ordered +to Vozdvizhensk?' + +'Hardly. I was told the 8th Company would be sent there,' said +Olenin. + +'No. I have had a letter from the adjutant there. He writes that +the Prince himself will take part in the campaign. I am very glad +I shall see something of him. I'm beginning to get tired of this +place.' + +'I hear we shall start on a raid soon.' + +'I have not heard of it; but I have heard that Krinovitsin has +received the Order of St. Anna for a raid. He expected a +lieutenancy,' said Beletski laughing. 'He was let in! He has set +off for headquarters.' + +It was growing dusk and Olenin began thinking about the party. The +invitation he had received worried him. He felt inclined to go, +but what might take place there seemed strange, absurd, and even +rather alarming. He knew that neither Cossack men nor older women, +nor anyone besides the girls, were to be there. What was going to +happen? How was he to behave? What would they talk about? What +connexion was there between him and those wild Cossack girls? +Beletski had told him of such curious, cynical, and yet rigid +relations. It seemed strange to think that he would be there in +the same hut with Maryanka and perhaps might have to talk to her. +It seemed to him impossible when he remembered her majestic +bearing. But Beletski spoke of it as if it were all perfectly +simple. 'Is it possible that Beletski will treat Maryanka in the +same way? That is interesting,' thought he. 'No, better not go. +It's all so horrid, so vulgar, and above all--it leads to +nothing!' But again he was worried by the question of what would +take place; and besides he felt as if bound by a promise. He went +out without having made up his mind one way or the other, but he +walked as far as Beletski's, and went in there. + +The hut in which Beletski lived was like Olenin's. It was raised +nearly five feet from the ground on wooden piles, and had two +rooms. In the first (which Olenin entered by the steep flight of +steps) feather beds, rugs, blankets, and cushions were tastefully +and handsomely arranged, Cossack fashion, along the main wall. On +the side wall hung brass basins and weapons, while on the floor, +under a bench, lay watermelons and pumpkins. In the second room +there was a big brick oven, a table, and sectarian icons. It was +here that Beletski was quartered, with his camp-bed and his pack +and trunks. His weapons hung on the wall with a little rug behind +them, and on the table were his toilet appliances and some +portraits. A silk dressing-gown had been thrown on the bench. +Beletski himself, clean and good-looking, lay on the bed in his +underclothing, reading Les Trois Mousquetaires. + +He jumped up. + +'There, you see how I have arranged things. Fine! Well, it's good +that you have come. They are working furiously. Do you know what +the pie is made of? Dough with a stuffing of pork and grapes. But +that's not the point. You just look at the commotion out there!' + +And really, on looking out of the window they saw an unusual +bustle going on in the hut. Girls ran in and out, now for one +thing and now for another. + +'Will it soon be ready?' cried Beletski. + +'Very soon! Why? Is Grandad hungry?' and from the hut came the +sound of ringing laughter. + +Ustenka, plump, small, rosy, and pretty, with her sleeves turned +up, ran into Beletski's hut to fetch some plates. + +'Get away or I shall smash the plates!' she squeaked, escaping +from Beletski. 'You'd better come and help,' she shouted to +Olenin, laughing. 'And don't forget to get some refreshments for +the girls.' ('Refreshments' meaning spicebread and sweets.) + +'And has Maryanka come?' + +'Of course! She brought some dough.' + +'Do you know,' said Beletski, 'if one were to dress Ustenka up and +clean and polish her up a bit, she'd be better than all our +beauties. Have you ever seen that Cossack woman who married a +colonel; she was charming! Borsheva? What dignity! Where do they +get it...' + +'I have not seen Borsheva, but I think nothing could be better +than the costume they wear here.' + +'Ah, I'm first-rate at fitting into any kind of life,' said +Beletski with a sigh of pleasure. 'I'll go and see what they are +up to.' + +He threw his dressing-gown over his shoulders and ran out, +shouting, 'And you look after the "refreshments".' + +Olenin sent Beletski's orderly to buy spice-bread and honey; but +it suddenly seemed to him so disgusting to give money (as if he +were bribing someone) that he gave no definite reply to the +orderly's question: 'How much spice-bread with peppermint, and how +much with honey?' + +'Just as you please.' + +'Shall I spend all the money,' asked the old soldier impressively. +'The peppermint is dearer. It's sixteen kopeks.' + +'Yes, yes, spend it all,' answered Olenin and sat down by the +window, surprised that his heart was thumping as if he were +preparing himself for something serious and wicked. + +He heard screaming and shrieking in the girls' hut when Beletski +went there, and a few moments later saw how he jumped out and ran +down the steps, accompanied by shrieks, bustle, and laughter. + +'Turned out,' he said. + +A little later Ustenka entered and solemnly invited her visitors +to come in: announcing that all was ready. + +When they came into the room they saw that everything was really +ready. Ustenka was rearranging the cushions along the wall. On the +table, which was covered by a disproportionately small cloth, was +a decanter of chikhir and some dried fish. The room smelt of dough +and grapes. Some half dozen girls in smart tunics, with their +heads not covered as usual with kerchiefs, were huddled together +in a corner behind the oven, whispering, giggling, and spluttering +with laughter. + +'I humbly beg you to do honour to my patron saint,' said Ustenka, +inviting her guests to the table. + +Olenin noticed Maryanka among the group of girls, who without +exception were all handsome, and he felt vexed and hurt that he +met her in such vulgar and awkward circumstances. He felt stupid +and awkward, and made up his mind to do what Beletski did. +Beletski stepped to the table somewhat solemnly yet with +confidence and ease, drank a glass of wine to Ustenka's health, +and invited the others to do the same. Ustenka announced that +girls don't drink. 'We might with a little honey,' exclaimed a +voice from among the group of girls. The orderly, who had just +returned with the honey and spice-cakes, was called in. He looked +askance (whether with envy or with contempt) at the gentlemen, who +in his opinion were on the spree; and carefully and +conscientiously handed over to them a piece of honeycomb and the +cakes wrapped up in a piece of greyish paper, and began explaining +circumstantially all about the price and the change, but Beletski +sent him away. Having mixed honey with wine in the glasses, and +having lavishly scattered the three pounds of spice-cakes on the +table, Beletski dragged the girls from their comers by force, made +them sit down at the table, and began distributing the cakes among +them. Olenin involuntarily noticed how Maryanka's sunburnt but +small hand closed on two round peppermint nuts and one brown one, +and that she did not know what to do with them. The conversation +was halting and constrained, in spite of Ustenka's and Beletski's +free and easy manner and their wish to enliven the company. Olenin +faltered, and tried to think of something to say, feeling that he +was exciting curiosity and perhaps provoking ridicule and +infecting the others with his shyness. He blushed, and it seemed +to him that Maryanka in particular was feeling uncomfortable. +'Most likely they are expecting us to give them some money,' +thought he. 'How are we to do it? And how can we manage quickest +to give it and get away?' + + + + +Chapter XXV + + +'How is it you don't know your own lodger?' said Beletski, +addressing Maryanka. + +'How is one to know him if he never comes to see us?' answered +Maryanka, with a look at Olenin. + +Olenin felt frightened, he did not know of what. He flushed and, +hardly knowing what he was saying, remarked: 'I'm afraid of your +mother. She gave me such a scolding the first time I went in.' + +Maryanka burst out laughing. 'And so you were frightened?' she +said, and glanced at him and turned away. + +It was the first time Olenin had seen the whole of her beautiful +face. Till then he had seen her with her kerchief covering her to +the eyes. It was not for nothing that she was reckoned the beauty +of the village. Ustenka was a pretty girl, small, plump, rosy, +with merry brown eyes, and red lips which were perpetually smiling +and chattering. Maryanka on the contrary was certainly not pretty +but beautiful. Her features might have been considered too +masculine and almost harsh had it not been for her tall stately +figure, her powerful chest and shoulders, and especially the +severe yet tender expression of her long dark eyes which were +darkly shadowed beneath their black brows, and for the gentle +expression of her mouth and smile. She rarely smiled, but her +smile was always striking. She seemed to radiate virginal strength +and health. All the girls were good-looking, but they themselves +and Beletski, and the orderly when he brought in the spice-cakes, +all involuntarily gazed at Maryanka, and anyone addressing the +girls was sure to address her. She seemed a proud and happy queen +among them. + +Beletski, trying to keep up the spirit of the party, chattered +incessantly, made the girls hand round chikhir, fooled about with +them, and kept making improper remarks in French about Maryanka's +beauty to Olenin, calling her 'yours' (la votre), and advising him +to behave as he did himself. Olenin felt more and more +uncomfortable. He was devising an excuse to get out and run away +when Beletski announced that Ustenka, whose saint's day it was, +must offer chikhir to everybody with a kiss. She consented on +condition that they should put money on her plate, as is the +custom at weddings. + +'What fiend brought me to this disgusting feast?' thought Olenin, +rising to go away. + +'Where are you off to?' + +'I'll fetch some tobacco,' he said, meaning to escape, but +Beletski seized his hand. + +'I have some money,' he said to him in French. + +'One can't go away, one has to pay here,' thought Olenin bitterly, +vexed at his own awkwardness. 'Can't I really behave like +Beletski? I ought not to have come, but once I am here I must not +spoil their fun. I must drink like a Cossack,' and taking the +wooden bowl (holding about eight tumblers) he almost filled it +with chikhir and drank it almost all. The girls looked at him, +surprised and almost frightened, as he drank. It seemed to them +strange and not right. Ustenka brought them another glass each, +and kissed them both. 'There girls, now we'll have some fun,' she +said, clinking on the plate the four rubles the men had put there. + +Olenin no longer felt awkward, but became talkative. + +'Now, Maryanka, it's your turn to offer us wine and a kiss,' said +Beletski, seizing her hand. + +'Yes, I'll give you such a kiss!' she said playfully, preparing to +strike at him. + +'One can kiss Grandad without payment,' said another girl. + +'There's a sensible girl,' said Beletski, kissing the struggling +girl. 'No, you must offer it,' he insisted, addressing Maryanka. +'Offer a glass to your lodger.' + +And taking her by the hand he led her to the bench and sat her +down beside Olenin. + +'What a beauty,' he said, turning her head to see it in profile. + +Maryanka did not resist but proudly smiling turned her long eyes +towards Olenin. + +'A beautiful girl,' repeated Beletski. + +'Yes, see what a beauty I am,' Maryanka's look seemed to endorse. +Without considering what he was doing Olenin embraced Maryanka and +was going to kiss her, but she suddenly extricated herself, +upsetting Beletski and pushing the top off the table, and sprang +away towards the oven. There was much shouting and laughter. Then +Beletski whispered something to the girls and suddenly they all +ran out into the passage and locked the door behind them. + +'Why did you kiss Beletski and won't kiss me?' asked Olenin. + +'Oh, just so. I don't want to, that's all!' she answered, pouting +and frowning. 'He's Grandad,' she added with a smile. She went to +the door and began to bang at it. 'Why have you locked the door, +you devils?' + +'Well, let them be there and us here,' said Olenin, drawing closer +to her. + +She frowned, and sternly pushed him away with her hand. And again +she appeared so majestically handsome to Olenin that he came to +his senses and felt ashamed of what he was doing. He went to the +door and began pulling at it himself. + + 'Beletski! Open the door! What a stupid joke!' + +Maryanka again gave a bright happy laugh. 'Ah, you're afraid of +me?' she said. + +'Yes, you know you're as cross as your mother.' + +'Spend more of your time with Eroshka; that will make the girls +love you!' And she smiled, looking straight and close into his +eyes. + +He did not know what to reply. 'And if I were to come to see you-- +' he let fall. + +'That would be a different matter,' she replied, tossing her head. + +At that moment Beletski pushed the door open, and Maryanka sprang +away from Olenin and in doing so her thigh struck his leg. + +'It's all nonsense what I have been thinking about--love and self- +sacrifice and Lukashka. Happiness is the one thing. He who is +happy is right,' flashed through Olenin's mind, and with a +strength unexpected to himself he seized and kissed the beautiful +Maryanka on her temple and her cheek. Maryanka was not angry, but +only burst into a loud laugh and ran out to the other girls. + +That was the end of the party. Ustenka's mother, returned from her +work, gave all the girls a scolding, and turned them all out. + + + + +Chapter XXVI + + +'Yes,' thought Olenin, as he walked home. 'I need only slacken the +reins a bit and I might fall desperately in love with this Cossack +girl.' He went to bed with these thoughts, but expected it all to +blow over and that he would continue to live as before. + +But the old life did not return. His relations to Maryanka were +changed. The wall that had separated them was broken down. Olenin +now greeted her every time they met. + +The master of the house having returned to collect the rent, on +hearing of Olenin's wealth and generosity invited him to his hut. +The old woman received him kindly, and from the day of the party +onwards Olenin often went in of an evening and sat with them till +late at night. He seemed to be living in the village just as he +used to, but within him everything had changed. He spent his days +in the forest, and towards eight o'clock, when it began to grow +dusk, he would go to see his hosts, alone or with Daddy Eroshka. +They grew so used to him that they were surprised when he stayed +away. He paid well for his wine and was a quiet fellow. Vanyusha +would bring him his tea and he would sit down in a comer near the +oven. The old woman did not mind him but went on with her work, +and over their tea or their chikhir they talked about Cossack +affairs, about the neighbours, or about Russia: Olenin relating +and the others inquiring. Sometimes he brought a book and read to +himself. Maryanka crouched like a wild goat with her feet drawn up +under her, sometimes on the top of the oven, sometimes in a dark +comer. She did not take part in the conversations, but Olenin saw +her eyes and face and heard her moving or cracking sunflower +seeds, and he felt that she listened with her whole being when he +spoke, and was aware of his presence while he silently read to +himself. Sometimes he thought her eyes were fixed on him, and +meeting their radiance he involuntarily became silent and gazed at +her. Then she would instantly hide her face and he would pretend +to be deep in conversation with the old woman, while he listened +all the time to her breathing and to her every movement and waited +for her to look at him again. In the presence of others she was +generally bright and friendly with him, but when they were alone +together she was shy and rough. Sometimes he came in before +Maryanka had returned home. Suddenly he would hear her firm +footsteps and catch a glimmer of her blue cotton smock at the open +door. Then she would step into the middle of the hut, catch sight +of him, and her eyes would give a scarcely perceptible kindly +smile, and he would feel happy and frightened. + +He neither sought for nor wished for anything from her, but every +day her presence became more and more necessary to him. + +Olenin had entered into the life of the Cossack village so fully +that his past seemed quite foreign to him. As to the future, +especially a future outside the world in which he was now living, +it did not interest him at all. When he received letters from +home, from relatives and friends, he was offended by the evident +distress with which they regarded him as a lost man, while he in +his village considered those as lost who did not live as he was +living. He felt sure he would never repent of having broken away +from his former surroundings and of having settled down in this +village to such a solitary and original life. When out on +expeditions, and when quartered at one of the forts, he felt happy +too; but it was here, from under Daddy Eroshka's wing, from the +forest and from his hut at the end of the village, and especially +when he thought of Maryanka and Lukashka, that he seemed to see +the falseness of his former life. That falseness used to rouse his +indignation even before, but now it seemed inexpressibly vile and +ridiculous. Here he felt freer and freer every day and more and +more of a man. The Caucasus now appeared entirely different to +what his imagination had painted it. He had found nothing at all +like his dreams, nor like the descriptions of the Caucasus he had +heard and read. 'There are none of all those chestnut steeds, +precipices, Amalet Beks, heroes or villains,' thought he. 'The +people live as nature lives: they die, are born, unite, and more +are born--they fight, eat and drink, rejoice and die, without any +restrictions but those that nature imposes on sun and grass, on +animal and tree. They have no other laws.' Therefore these people, +compared to himself, appeared to him beautiful, strong, and free, +and the sight of them made him feel ashamed and sorry for himself. +Often it seriously occurred to him to throw up everything, to get +registered as a Cossack, to buy a hut and cattle and marry a +Cossack woman (only not Maryanka, whom he conceded to Lukashka), +and to live with Daddy Eroshka and go shooting and fishing with +him, and go with the Cossacks on their expeditions. 'Why ever +don't I do it? What am I waiting for?' he asked himself, and he +egged himself on and shamed himself. 'Am I afraid of doing what I +hold to be reasonable and right? Is the wish to be a simple +Cossack, to live close to nature, not to injure anyone but even to +do good to others, more stupid than my former dreams, such as +those of becoming a minister of state or a colonel?' but a voice +seemed to say that he should wait, and not take any decision. He +was held back by a dim consciousness that he could not live +altogether like Eroshka and Lukashka because he had a different +idea of happiness--he was held back by the thought that happiness +lies in self-sacrifice. What he had done for Lukashka continued to +give him joy. He kept looking for occasions to sacrifice himself +for others, but did not meet with them. Sometimes he forgot this +newly discovered recipe for happiness and considered himself +capable of identifying his life with Daddy Eroshka's, but then he +quickly bethought himself and promptly clutched at the idea of +conscious self-sacrifice, and from that basis looked calmly and +proudly at all men and at their happiness. + + + + +Chapter XXVII + + +Just before the vintage Lukashka came on horseback to see Olenin. +He looked more dashing than ever. 'Well? Are you getting married?' +asked Olenin, greeting him merrily. + +Lukashka gave no direct reply. + +'There, I've exchanged your horse across the river. This is a +horse! A Kabarda horse from the Lov stud. I know horses.' + +They examined the new horse and made him caracole about the yard. +The horse really was an exceptionally fine one, a broad and long +gelding, with glossy coat, thick silky tail, and the soft fine +mane and crest of a thoroughbred. He was so well fed that 'you +might go to sleep on his back' as Lukashka expressed it. His +hoofs, eyes, teeth, were exquisitely shaped and sharply outlined, +as one only finds them in very pure-bred horses. Olenin could not +help admiring the horse, he had not yet met with such a beauty in +the Caucasus. + +'And how it goes!' said Lukashka, patting its neck. 'What a step! +And so clever--he simply runs after his master.' + +'Did you have to add much to make the exchange?' asked Olenin. + +'I did not count it,' answered Lukashka with a smile. 'I got him +from a kunak.' + +'A wonderfully beautiful horse! What would you take for it?' asked +Olenin. + +'I have been offered a hundred and fifty rubles for it, but I'll +give it you for nothing,' said Lukashka, merrily. 'Only say the +word and it's yours. I'll unsaddle it and you may take it. Only +give me some sort of a horse for my duties.' + +'No, on no account.' + +'Well then, here is a dagger I've brought you,' said Lukashka, +unfastening his girdle and taking out one of the two daggers which +hung from it. 'I got it from across the river.' + +'Oh, thank you!' + +'And mother has promised to bring you some grapes herself.' + +'That's quite unnecessary. We'll balance up some day. You see I +don't offer you any money for the dagger!' + +'How could you? We are kunaks. It's just the same as when Girey +Khan across the river took me into his home and said, + +"Choose what you like!" So I took this sword. It's our custom.' + +They went into the hut and had a drink. + +'Are you staying here awhile?' asked Olenin. + +'No, I have come to say good-bye. They are sending me from the +cordon to a company beyond the Terek. I am going to-night with my +comrade Nazarka.' + +'And when is the wedding to be?' + +'I shall be coming back for the betrothal, and then I shall return +to the company again,' Lukashka replied reluctantly. + +'What, and see nothing of your betrothed?' + +'Just so--what is the good of looking at her? When you go on +campaign ask in our company for Lukashka the Broad. But what a lot +of boars there are in our parts! I've killed two. I'll take you.' +'Well, good-bye! Christ save you.' + +Lukashka mounted his horse, and without calling on Maryanka, rode +caracoling down the street, where Nazarka was already awaiting +him. + +'I say, shan't we call round?' asked Nazarka, winking in the +direction of Yamka's house. + +'That's a good one!' said Lukashka. 'Here, take my horse to her +and if I don't come soon give him some hay. I shall reach the +company by the morning anyway.' + +'Hasn't the cadet given you anything more?' + +'I am thankful to have paid him back with a dagger--he was going +to ask for the horse,' said Lukashka, dismounting and handing over +the horse to Nazarka. + +He darted into the yard past Olenin's very window, and came up to +the window of the cornet's hut. It was already quite dark. +Maryanka, wearing only her smock, was combing her hair preparing +for bed. + +'It's I--' whispered the Cossack. + +Maryanka's look was severely indifferent, but her face suddenly +brightened up when she heard her name. She opened the window and +leant out, frightened and joyous. + +'What--what do you want?' she said. + +'Open!' uttered Lukashka. 'Let me in for a minute. I am so sick of +waiting! It's awful!' + +He took hold of her head through the window and kissed her. + +'Really, do open!' + +'Why do you talk nonsense? I've told you I won't! Have you come +for long?' + +He did not answer but went on kissing her, and she did not ask +again. + +'There, through the window one can't even hug you properly,' said +Lukashka. + +'Maryanka dear!' came the voice of her mother, 'who is that with +you?' + +Lukashka took off his cap, which might have been seen, and +crouched down by the window. + +'Go, be quick!' whispered Maryanka. + +'Lukashka called round,' she answered; 'he was asking for Daddy.' + +'Well then send him here!' + +'He's gone; said he was in a hurry.' + +In fact, Lukashka, stooping, as with big strides he passed under +the windows, ran out through the yard and towards Yamka's house +unseen by anyone but Olenin. After drinking two bowls of chikhir +he and Nazarka rode away to the outpost. The night was warm, dark, +and calm. They rode in silence, only the footfall of their horses +was heard. Lukashka started a song about the Cossack, Mingal, but +stopped before he had finished the first verse, and after a pause, +turning to Nazarka, said: + +'I say, she wouldn't let me in!' + +'Oh?' rejoined Nazarka. 'I knew she wouldn't. D'you know what +Yamka told me? The cadet has begun going to their house. Daddy +Eroshka brags that he got a gun from the cadet for getting him +Maryanka.' + +'He lies, the old devil!' said Lukashka, angrily. 'She's not such +a girl. If he does not look out I'll wallop that old devil's +sides,' and he began his favourite song: + +'From the village of Izmaylov, + From the master's favourite garden, + Once escaped a keen-eyed falcon. + Soon after him a huntsman came a-riding, + And he beckoned to the falcon that had strayed, + But the bright-eyed bird thus answered: + "In gold cage you could not keep me, + On your hand you could not hold me, + So now I fly to blue seas far away. + There a white swan I will kill, + Of sweet swan-flesh have my fill."' + + + + +Chapter XXVIII + + +The bethrothal was taking place in the cornet's hut. Lukashka had +returned to the village, but had not been to see Olenin, and +Olenin had not gone to the betrothal though he had been invited. +He was sad as he had never been since he settled in this Cossack +village. He had seen Lukashka earlier in the evening and was +worried by the question why Lukashka was so cold towards him. +Olenin shut himself up in his hut and began writing in his diary +as follows: + +'Many things have I pondered over lately and much have I changed,' +wrote he, 'and I have come back to the copybook maxim: The one way +to be happy is to love, to love self-denyingly, to love everybody +and everything; to spread a web of love on all sides and to take +all who come into it. In this way I caught Vanyusha, Daddy +Eroshka, Lukashka, and Maryanka.' + +As Olenin was finishing this sentence Daddy Eroshka entered the +room. + +Eroshka was in the happiest frame of mind. A few evenings before +this, Olenin had gone to see him and had found him with a proud +and happy face deftly skinning the carcass of a boar with a small +knife in the yard. The dogs (Lyam his pet among them) were lying +close by watching what he was doing and gently wagging their +tails. The little boys were respectfully looking at him through +the fence and not even teasing him as was their wont. His women +neighbours, who were as a rule not too gracious towards him, +greeted him and brought him, one a jug of chikhir, another some +clotted cream, and a third a little flour. The next day Eroshka +sat in his store-room all covered with blood, and distributed +pounds of boar-flesh, taking in payment money from some and wine +from others. His face clearly expressed, 'God has sent me luck. I +have killed a boar, so now I am wanted.' Consequently, he +naturally began to drink, and had gone on for four days never +leaving the village. Besides which he had had something to drink +at the betrothal. + +He came to Olenin quite drunk: his face red, his beard tangled, +but wearing a new beshmet trimmed with gold braid; and he brought +with him a balalayka which he had obtained beyond the river. He +had long promised Olenin this treat, and felt in the mood for it, +so that he was sorry to find Olenin writing. + +'Write on, write on, my lad,' he whispered, as if he thought that +a spirit sat between him and the paper and must not be frightened +away, and he softly and silently sat down on the floor. When Daddy +Eroshka was drunk his favourite position was on the floor. Olenin +looked round, ordered some wine to be brought, and continued to +write. Eroshka found it dull to drink by himself and he wished to +talk. + +'I've been to the betrothal at the cornet's. But there! They're +shwine!--Don't want them!--Have come to you.' + +'And where did you get your balalayka asked Olenin, still writing. + +'I've been beyond the river and got it there, brother mine,' he +answered, also very quietly. 'I'm a master at it. Tartar or +Cossack, squire or soldiers' songs, any kind you please.' + +Olenin looked at him again, smiled, and went on writing. + +That smile emboldened the old man. + +'Come, leave off, my lad, leave off!' he said with sudden +firmness. + +'Well, perhaps I will.' + +'Come, people have injured you but leave them alone, spit at them! +Come, what's the use of writing and writing, what's the good?' + +And he tried to mimic Olenin by tapping the floor with his thick +fingers, and then twisted his big face to express contempt. + +'What's the good of writing quibbles. Better have a spree and show +you're a man!' + +No other conception of writing found place in his head except that +of legal chicanery. + +Olenin burst out laughing and so did Eroshka. Then, jumping up +from the floor, the latter began to show off his skill on the +balalayka and to sing Tartar songs. + +'Why write, my good fellow! You'd better listen to what I'll sing +to you. When you're dead you won't hear any more songs. Make merry +now!' + +First he sang a song of his own composing accompanied by a dance: + +'Ah, dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dim, Say where did they last see +him? In a booth, at the fair, He was selling pins, there.' + +Then he sang a song he had learnt from his former sergeant-major: + +'Deep I fell in love on Monday, Tuesday nothing did but sigh, +Wednesday I popped the question, Thursday waited her reply. +Friday, late, it came at last, Then all hope for me was past! +Saturday my life to take I determined like a man, But for my +salvation's sake Sunday morning changed my plan!' + +Then he sang again: + +'Oh dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dim, Say where did they last see +him?' + +And after that, winking, twitching his shoulders, and footing it +to the tune, he sang: + +'I will kiss you and embrace, Ribbons red twine round you; And +I'll call you little Grace. Oh, you little Grace now do Tell me, +do you love me true?' + +And he became so excited that with a sudden dashing movement he +started dancing around the room accompanying himself the while. + +Songs like 'Dee, dee, dee'--'gentlemen's songs'--he sang for +Olenin's benefit, but after drinking three more tumblers of +chikhir he remembered old times and began singing real Cossack and +Tartar songs. In the midst of one of his favourite songs his voice +suddenly trembled and he ceased singing, and only continued +strumming on the balalayka. + +'Oh, my dear friend!' he said. + +The peculiar sound of his voice made Olenin look round. + +The old man was weeping. Tears stood in his eyes and one tear was +running down his cheek. + +'You are gone, my young days, and will never come back!' he said, +blubbering and halting. 'Drink, why don't you drink!' he suddenly +shouted with a deafening roar, without wiping away his tears. + +There was one Tartar song that specially moved him. It had few +words, but its charm lay in the sad refrain. 'Ay day, dalalay!' +Eroshka translated the words of the song: 'A youth drove his sheep +from the aoul to the mountains: the Russians came and burnt the +aoul, they killed all the men and took all the women into bondage. +The youth returned from the mountains. Where the aoul had stood +was an empty space; his mother not there, nor his brothers, nor +his house; one tree alone was left standing. The youth sat beneath +the tree and wept. "Alone like thee, alone am I left,'" and +Eroshka began singing: 'Ay day, dalalay!' and the old man repeated +several times this wailing, heart-rending refrain. + +When he had finished the refrain Eroshka suddenly seized a gun +that hung on the wall, rushed hurriedly out into the yard and +fired off both barrels into the air. Then again he began, more +dolefully, his 'Ay day, dalalay--ah, ah,' and ceased. + +Olenin followed him into the porch and looked up into the starry +sky in the direction where the shots had flashed. In the cornet's +house there were lights and the sound of voices. In the yard girls +were crowding round the porch and the windows, and running +backwards and forwards between the hut and the outhouse. Some +Cossacks rushed out of the hut and could not refrain from +shouting, re-echoing the refrain of Daddy Eroshka's song and his +shots. + +'Why are you not at the betrothal?' asked Olenin. + +'Never mind them! Never mind them!' muttered the old man, who had +evidently been offended by something there. 'Don't like them, I +don't. Oh, those people! Come back into the hut! Let them make +merry by themselves and we'll make merry by ourselves.' + +Olenin went in. + +'And Lukashka, is he happy? Won't he come to see me?' he asked. + +'What, Lukashka? They've lied to him and said I am getting his +girl for you,' whispered the old man. 'But what's the girl? She +will be ours if we want her. Give enough money--and she's ours. +I'll fix it up for you. Really!' + +'No, Daddy, money can do nothing if she does not love me. You'd +better not talk like that!' + +'We are not loved, you and I. We are forlorn,' said Daddy Eroshka +suddenly, and again he began to cry. + +Listening to the old man's talk Olenin had drunk more than usual. +'So now my Lukashka is happy,' thought he; yet he felt sad. The +old man had drunk so much that evening that he fell down on the +floor and Vanyusha had to call soldiers in to help, and spat as +they dragged the old man out. He was so angry with the old man for +his bad behaviour that he did not even say a single French word. + + + + +Chapter XXIX + + +It was August. For days the sky had been cloudless, the sun +scorched unbearably and from early morning the warm wind raised a +whirl of hot sand from the sand-drifts and from the road, and bore +it in the air through the reeds, the trees, and the village. The +grass and the leaves on the trees were covered with dust, the +roads and dried-up salt marshes were baked so hard that they rang +when trodden on. The water had long since subsided in the Terek +and rapidly vanished and dried up in the ditches. The slimy banks +of the pond near the village were trodden bare by the cattle and +all day long you could hear the splashing of water and the +shouting of girls and boys bathing. The sand-drifts and the reeds +were already drying up in the steppes, and the cattle, lowing, ran +into the fields in the day-time. The boars migrated into the +distant reed-beds and to the hills beyond the Terek. Mosquitoes +and gnats swarmed in thick clouds over the low lands and villages. +The snow-peaks were hidden in grey mist. The air was rarefied and +smoky. It was said that abreks had crossed the now shallow river +and were prowling on this side of it. Every night the sun set in a +glowing red blaze. It was the busiest time of the year. The +villagers all swarmed in the melon-fields and the vineyards. The +vineyards thickly overgrown with twining verdure lay in cool, deep +shade. Everywhere between the broad translucent leaves, ripe, +heavy, black clusters peeped out. Along the dusty road from the +vineyards the creaking carts moved slowly, heaped up with black +grapes. Clusters of them, crushed by the wheels, lay in the dirt. +Boys and girls in smocks stained with grape-juice, with grapes in +their hands and mouths, ran after their mothers. On the road you +continually came across tattered labourers with baskets of grapes +on their powerful shoulders; Cossack maidens, veiled with +kerchiefs to their eyes, drove bullocks harnessed to carts laden +high with grapes. Soldiers who happened to meet these carts asked +for grapes, and the maidens, clambering up without stopping their +carts, would take an armful of grapes and drop them into the +skirts of the soldiers' coats. In some homesteads they had already +begun pressing the grapes; and the smell of the emptied skins +filled the air. One saw the blood-red troughs in the pent-houses +in the yards and Nogay labourers with their trousers rolled up and +their legs stained with the juice. Grunting pigs gorged themselves +with the empty skins and rolled about in them. The flat roofs of +the outhouses were all spread over with the dark amber clusters +drying in the sun. Daws and magpies crowded round the roofs, +picking the seeds and fluttering from one place to another. + +The fruits of the year's labour were being merrily gathered in, +and this year the fruit was unusually fine and plentiful. + +In the shady green vineyards amid a sea of vines, laughter, songs, +merriment, and the voices of women were to be heard on all sides, +and glimpses of their bright-coloured garments could be seen. + +Just at noon Maryanka was sitting in their vineyard in the shade +of a peach-tree, getting out the family dinner from under an +unharnessed cart. Opposite her, on a spread-out horse-cloth, sat +the cornet (who had returned from the school) washing his hands by +pouring water on them from a little jug. Her little brother, who +had just come straight out of the pond, stood wiping his face with +his wide sleeves, and gazed anxiously at his sister and his mother +and breathed deeply, awaiting his dinner. The old mother, with her +sleeves rolled up over her strong sunburnt arms, was arranging +grapes, dried fish, and clotted cream on a little low, circular +Tartar table. The cornet wiped his hands, took off his cap, +crossed himself, and moved nearer to the table. The boy seized the +jug and eagerly began to drink. The mother and daughter crossed +their legs under them and sat down by the table. Even in the shade +it was intolerably hot. The air above the vineyard smelt +unpleasant: the strong warm wind passing amid the branches brought +no coolness, but only monotonously bent the tops of the pear, +peach, and mulberry trees with which the vineyard was sprinkled. +The comet, she felt unbearably hot. Her face was burning, and she +did not know where to put her feet, her eyes were moist with +sleepiness and weariness, her lips parted involuntarily, and her +chest heaved heavily and deeply. + +The busy time of year had begun a fortnight ago and the continuous +heavy labour had filled the girl's life. At dawn she jumped up, +washed her face with cold water, wrapped herself in a shawl, and +ran out barefoot to see to the cattle. Then she hurriedly put on +her shoes and her beshmet and, taking a small bundle of bread, she +harnessed the bullocks and drove away to the vineyards for the +whole day. There she cut the grapes and carried the baskets with +only an hour's interval for rest, and in the evening she returned +to the village, bright and not tired, dragging the bullocks by a +rope or driving them with a long stick. After attending to the +cattle, she took some sunflower seeds in the wide sleeve of her +smock and went to the corner of the street to crack them and have +some fun with the other girls. But as soon as it was dusk she +returned home, and after having supper with her parents and her +brother in the dark outhouse, she went into the hut, healthy and +free from care, and climbed onto the oven, where half drowsing she +listened to their lodger's conversation. As soon as he went away +she would throw herself down on her bed and sleep soundly and +quietly till morning. And so it went on day after day. She had not +seen Lukashka since the day of their betrothal, but calmly awaited +the wedding. She had got used to their lodger and felt his intent +looks with pleasure. + + + + +Chapter XXX + + +Although there was no escape from the heat and the mosquitoes +swarmed in the cool shadow of the wagons, and her little brother +tossing about beside her kept pushing her, Maryanka having drawn +her kerchief over her head was just falling asleep, when suddenly +their neighbour Ustenka came running towards her and, diving under +the wagon, lay down beside her. + +'Sleep, girls, sleep!' said Ustenka, making herself comfortable +under the wagon. 'Wait a bit,' she exclaimed, 'this won't do!' + +She jumped up, plucked some green branches, and stuck them through +the wheels on both sides of the wagon and hung her beshmet over +them. + +'Let me in,' she shouted to the little boy as she again crept +under the wagon. 'Is this the place for a Cossack--with the girls? +Go away!' + +When alone under the wagon with her friend, Ustenka suddenly put +both her arms round her, and clinging close to her began kissing +her cheeks and neck. + +'Darling, sweetheart,' she kept repeating, between bursts of +shrill, clear laughter. + +'Why, you've learnt it from Grandad,' said Maryanka, struggling. +'Stop it!' + +And they both broke into such peals of laughter that Maryanka's +mother shouted to them to be quiet. + +'Are you jealous?' asked Ustenka in a whisper. + +'What humbug! Let me sleep. What have you come for?' + +But Ustenka kept on, 'I say! But I wanted to tell you such a +thing.' + +Maryanka raised herself on her elbow and arranged the kerchief +which had slipped off. + +'Well, what is it?' + +'I know something about your lodger!' + +'There's nothing to know,' said Maryanka. + +'Oh, you rogue of a girl!' said Ustenka, nudging her with her +elbow and laughing. 'Won't tell anything. Does he come to you?' + +'He does. What of that?' said Maryanka with a sudden blush. + +'Now I'm a simple lass. I tell everybody. Why should I pretend?' +said Ustenka, and her bright rosy face suddenly became pensive. +'Whom do I hurt? I love him, that's all about it.' + +'Grandad, do you mean?' + +'Well, yes!' + +'And the sin?' + +'Ah, Maryanka! When is one to have a good time if not while one's +still free? When I marry a Cossack I shall bear children and shall +have cares. There now, when you get married to Lukashka not even a +thought of joy will enter your head: children will come, and +work!' + +'Well? Some who are married live happily. It makes no difference!' +Maryanka replied quietly. + +'Do tell me just this once what has passed between you and +Lukishka?' + +'What has passed? A match was proposed. Father put it off for a +year, but now it's been settled and they'll marry us in autumn.' + +'But what did he say to you?' Maryanka smiled. + +'What should he say? He said he loved me. He kept asking me to +come to the vineyards with him.' + +'Just see what pitch! But you didn't go, did you? And what a dare- +devil he has become: the first among the braves. He makes merry +out there in the army too! The other day our Kirka came home; he +says: "What a horse Lukashka's got in exchange!" But all the same +I expect he frets after you. And what else did he say?' + +'Must you know everything?' said Maryanka laughing. 'One night he +came to my window tipsy, and asked me to let him in.' 'And you +didn't let him?' + +'Let him, indeed! Once I have said a thing I keep to it firm as a +rock,' answered Maryanka seriously. + +'A fine fellow! If he wanted her, no girl would refuse him.' + +'Well, let him go to the others,' replied Maryanka proudly. + +'You don't pity him?' + +'I do pity him, but I'll have no nonsense. It is wrong.' Ustenka +suddenly dropped her head on her friend's breast, seized hold of +her, and shook with smothered laughter. 'You silly fool!' she +exclaimed, quite out of breath. 'You don't want to be happy,' and +she began tickling Maryanka. 'Oh, leave off!' said Maryanka, +screaming and laughing. 'You've crushed Lazutka.' + +'Hark at those young devils! Quite frisky! Not tired yet!' came +the old woman's sleepy voice from the wagon. + +'Don't want happiness,' repeated Ustenka in a whisper, +insistently. 'But you are lucky, that you are! How they love you! +You are so crusty, and yet they love you. Ah, if I were in your +place I'd soon turn the lodger's head! I noticed him when you were +at our house. He was ready to eat you with his eyes. What things +Grandad has given me! And yours they say is the richest of the +Russians. His orderly says they have serfs of their own.' + +Maryanka raised herself, and after thinking a moment, smiled. + +'Do you know what he once told me: the lodger I mean?' she said, +biting a bit of grass. 'He said, "I'd like to be Lukashka the +Cossack, or your brother Lazutka--." What do you think he meant?' + +'Oh, just chattering what came into his head,' answered Ustenka. +'What does mine not say! Just as if he was possessed!' + +Maryanka dropped her hand on her folded beshmet, threw her arm +over Ustenka's shoulder, and shut her eyes. + +'He wanted to come and work in the vineyard to-day: father invited +him,' she said, and after a short silence she fell asleep. + + + + +Chapter XXXI + + +The sun had come out from behind the pear-tree that had shaded the +wagon, and even through the branches that Ustenka had fixed up it +scorched the faces of the sleeping girls. Maryanka woke up and +began arranging the kerchief on her head. Looking about her, +beyond the pear-tree she noticed their lodger, who with his gun on +his shoulder stood talking to her father. She nudged Ustenka and +smilingly pointed him out to her. + +'I went yesterday and didn't find a single one,' Olenin was saying +as he looked about uneasily, not seeing Maryanka through the +branches. + +'Ah, you should go out there in that direction, go right as by +compasses, there in a disused vineyard denominated as the Waste, +hares are always to be found,' said the cornet, having at once +changed his manner of speech. + +'A fine thing to go looking for hares in these busy times! You had +better come and help us, and do some work with the girls,' the old +woman said merrily. 'Now then, girls, up with you!' she cried. + +Maryanka and Ustenka under the cart were whispering and could +hardly restrain their laughter. + +Since it had become known that Olenin had given a horse worth +fifty rubles to Lukashka, his hosts had become more amiable and +the cornet in particular saw with pleasure his daughter's growing +intimacy with Olenin. 'But I don't know how to do the work,' +replied Olenin, trying not to look through the green branches +under the wagon where he had now noticed Maryanka's blue smock and +red kerchief. + +'Come, I'll give you some peaches,' said the old woman. + +'It's only according to the ancient Cossack hospitality. It's her +old woman's silliness,' said the cornet, explaining and apparently +correcting his wife's words. 'In Russia, I expect, it's not so +much peaches as pineapple jam and preserves you have been +accustomed to eat at your pleasure.' + +'So you say hares are to be found in the disused vineyard?' asked +Olenin. 'I will go there,' and throwing a hasty glance through the +green branches he raised his cap and disappeared between the +regular rows of green vines. + +The sun had already sunk behind the fence of the vineyards, and +its broken rays glittered through the translucent leaves when +Olenin returned to his host's vineyard. The wind was falling and a +cool freshness was beginning to spread around. By some instinct +Olenin recognized from afar Maryanka's blue smock among the rows +of vine, and, picking grapes on his way, he approached her. His +highly excited dog also now and then seized a low-hanging cluster +of grapes in his slobbering mouth. Maryanka, her face flushed, her +sleeves rolled up, and her kerchief down below her chin, was +rapidly cutting the heavy clusters and laying them in a basket. +Without letting go of the vine she had hold of, she stopped to +smile pleasantly at him and resumed her work. Olenin drew near and +threw his gun behind his back to have his hands free. 'Where are +your people? May God aid you! Are you alone?' he meant to say but +did not say, and only raised his cap in silence. + +He was ill at ease alone with Maryanka, but as if purposely to +torment himself he went up to her. + +'You'll be shooting the women with your gun like that,' said +Maryanka. + +'No, I shan't shoot them.' + +They were both silent. + +Then after a pause she said: 'You should help me.' + +He took out his knife and began silently to cut off the clusters. +He reached from under the leaves low down a thick bunch weighing +about three pounds, the grapes of which grew so close that they +flattened each other for want of space. He showed it to Maryanka. + +'Must they all be cut? Isn't this one too green?' + +'Give it here.' + +Their hands touched. Olenin took her hand, and she looked at him +smiling. + +'Are you going to be married soon?' he asked. + +She did not answer, but turned away with a stern look. + +'Do you love Lukashka?' + +'What's that to you?' + +'I envy him!' + +'Very likely!' 'No really. You are so beautiful!' + +And he suddenly felt terribly ashamed of having said it, so +commonplace did the words seem to him. He flushed, lost control of +himself, and seized both her hands. + +'Whatever I am, I'm not for you. Why do you make fun of me?' +replied Maryanka, but her look showed how certainly she knew he +was not making fun. + +'Making fun? If you only knew how I--' + +The words sounded still more commonplace, they accorded still less +with what he felt, but yet he continued, 'I don't know what I +would not do for you--' + +'Leave me alone, you pitch!' + +But her face, her shining eyes, her swelling bosom, her shapely +legs, said something quite different. It seemed to him that she +understood how petty were all things he had said, but that she was +superior to such considerations. It seemed to him she had long +known all he wished and was not able to tell her, but wanted to +hear how he would say it. 'And how can she help knowing,' he +thought, 'since I only want to tell her all that she herself is? +But she does not wish to under-stand, does not wish to reply.' + +'Hallo!' suddenly came Ustenka's high voice from behind the vine +at no great distance, followed by her shrill laugh. 'Come and help +me, Dmitri Andreich. I am all alone,' she cried, thrusting her +round, naive little face through the vines. + +Olenin did not answer nor move from his place. + +Maryanka went on cutting and continually looked up at Olenin. He +was about to say something, but stopped, shrugged his shoulders +and, having jerked up his gun, walked out of the vineyard with +rapid strides. + + + + +Chapter XXXII + + +He stopped once or twice, listening to the ringing laughter of +Maryanka and Ustenka who, having come together, were shouting +something. Olenin spent the whole evening hunting in the forest +and returned home at dusk without having killed anything. When +crossing the road he noticed her open the door of the outhouse, +and her blue smock showed through it. He called to Vanyusha very +loud so as to let her know that he was back, and then sat down in +the porch in his usual place. His hosts now returned from the +vineyard; they came out of the outhouse and into their hut, but +did not ask of the latch and knocked. The floor hardly creaked +under the bare cautious footsteps which approached the door. The +latch clicked, the door creaked, and he noticed a faint smell of +marjoram and pumpkin, and Maryanka's whole figure appeared in the +doorway. He saw her only for an instant in the moonlight. She +slammed the door and, muttering something, ran lightly back again. +Olenin began rapping softly but nothing responded. He ran to the +window and listened. Suddenly he was startled by a shrill, squeaky +man's voice. + +'Fine!' exclaimed a rather small young Cossack in a white cap, +coming across the yard close to Olenin. 'I saw ... fine!' + +Olenin recognized Nazarka, and was silent, not knowing what to do +or say. + +'Fine! I'll go and tell them at the office, and I'll tell her +father! That's a fine cornet's daughter! One's not enough for +her.' + +'What do you want of me, what are you after?' uttered Olenin. + +'Nothing; only I'll tell them at the office.' + +Nazarka spoke very loud, and evidently did so intentionally, +adding: 'Just see what a clever cadet!' + +Olenin trembled and grew pale. + +'Come here, here!' He seized the Cossack firmly by the arm and +drew him towards his hut. + +'Nothing happened, she did not let me in, and I too mean no harm. +She is an honest girl--' + +'Eh, discuss--' + +'Yes, but all the same I'll give you something now. Wait a bit!' + +Nazarka said nothing. Olenin ran into his hut and brought out ten +rubles, which he gave to the Cossack. + +'Nothing happened, but still I was to blame, so I give this!--Only +for God's sake don't let anyone know, for nothing happened ... ' + +'I wish you joy,' said Nazarka laughing, and went away. + +Nazarka had come to the village that night at Lukashka's bidding +to find a place to hide a stolen horse, and now, passing by on his +way home, had heard the sound of footsteps. When he returned next +morning to his company he bragged to his chum, and told him how +cleverly he had got ten rubles. Next morning Olenin met his hosts +and they knew nothing about the events of the night. He did not +speak to Maryanka, and she only laughed a little when she looked +at him. Next night he also passed without sleep, vainly wandering +about the yard. The day after he purposely spent shooting, and in +the evening he went to see Beletski to escape from his own +thoughts. He was afraid of himself, and promised himself not to go +to his hosts' hut any more. + +That night he was roused by the sergeant-major. His company was +ordered to start at once on a raid. Olenin was glad this had +happened, and thought he would not again return to the village. + +The raid lasted four days. The commander, who was a relative of +Olenin's, wished to see him and offered to let him remain with the +staff, but this Olenin declined. He found that he could not live +away from the village, and asked to be allowed to return to it. +For having taken part in the raid he received a soldier's cross, +which he had formerly greatly desired. Now he was quite +indifferent about it, and even more indifferent about his +promotion, the order for which had still not arrived. Accompanied +by Vanyusha he rode back to the cordon without any accident +several hours in advance of the rest of the company. He spent the +whole evening in his porch watching Maryanka, and he again walked +about the yard, without aim or thought, all night. + + + + +Chapter XXXIII + + +It was late when he awoke the next day. His hosts were no longer +in. He did not go shooting, but now took up a book, and now went +out into the porch, and now again re-entered the hut and lay down +on the bed. Vanyusha thought he was ill. + +Towards evening Olenin got up, resolutely began writing, and wrote +on till late at night. He wrote a letter, but did not post it +because he felt that no one would have understood what he wanted +to say, and besides it was not necessary that anyone but himself +should understand it. This is what he wrote: + +'I receive letters of condolence from Russia. They are afraid that +I shall perish, buried in these wilds. They say about me: "He will +become coarse; he will be behind the times in everything; he will +take to drink, and who knows but that he may marry a Cossack +girl." It was not for nothing, they say, that Ermolov declared: +"Anyone serving in the Caucasus for ten years either becomes a +confirmed drunkard or marries a loose woman." How terrible! Indeed +it won't do for me to ruin myself when I might have the great +happiness of even becoming the Countess B---'s husband, or a Court +chamberlain, or a Marechal de noblesse of my district. Oh, how +repulsive and pitiable you all seem to me! You do not know what +happiness is and what life is! One must taste life once in all its +natural beauty, must see and understand what I see every day +before me--those eternally unapproachable snowy peaks, and a +majestic woman in that primitive beauty in which the first woman +must have come from her creator's hands--and then it becomes clear +who is ruining himself and who is living truly or falsely--you or +I. If you only knew how despicable and pitiable you, in your +delusions, seem to me! When I picture to myself--in place of my +hut, my forests, and my love--those drawing-rooms, those women +with their pomatum-greased hair eked out with false curls, those +unnaturally grimacing lips, those hidden, feeble, distorted limbs, +and that chatter of obligatory drawing-room conversation which has +no right to the name--I feel unendurably revolted. I then see +before me those obtuse faces, those rich eligible girls whose +looks seem to say: + +"It's all right, you may come near though I am rich and eligible"- +-and that arranging and rearranging of seats, that shameless +match-making and that eternal tittle-tattle and pretence; those +rules--with whom to shake hands, to whom only to nod, with whom to +converse (and all this done deliberately with a conviction of its +inevitability), that continual ennui in the blood passing on from +generation to generation. Try to understand or believe just this +one thing: you need only see and comprehend what truth and beauty +are, and all that you now say and think and all your wishes for me +and for yourselves will fly to atoms! Happiness is being with +nature, seeing her, and conversing with her. "He may even (God +forbid) marry a common Cossack girl, and be quite lost socially" I +can imagine them saying of me with sincere pity! Yet the one thing +I desire is to be quite "lost" in your sense of the word. I wish +to marry a Cossack girl, and dare not because it would be a height +of happiness of which I am unworthy. + +'Three months have passed since I first saw the Cossack girl, +Maryanka. The views and prejudices of the world I had left were +still fresh in me. I did not then believe that I could love that +woman. I delighted in her beauty just as I delighted in the beauty +of the mountains and the sky, nor could I help delighting in her, +for she is as beautiful as they. I found that the sight of her +beauty had become a necessity of my life and I began asking myself +whether I did not love her. But I could find nothing within myself +at all like love as I had imagined it to be. Mine was not the +restlessness of loneliness and desire for marriage, nor was it +platonic, still less a carnal love such as I have experienced. I +needed only to see her, to hear her, to know that she was near-- +and if I was not happy, I was at peace. + +'After an evening gathering at which I met her and touched her, I +felt that between that woman and myself there existed an +indissoluble though unacknowledged bond against which I could not +struggle, yet I did struggle. I asked myself: "Is it possible to +love a woman who will never understand the profoundest interests +of my life? Is it possible to love a woman simply for her beauty, +to love the statue of a woman?" But I was already in love with +her, though I did not yet trust to my feelings. + +'After that evening when I first spoke to her our relations +changed. Before that she had been to me an extraneous but majestic +object of external nature: but since then she has become a human +being. I began to meet her, to talk to her, and sometimes to go to +work for her father and to spend whole evenings with them, and in +this intimate intercourse she remained still in my eyes just as +pure, inaccessible, and majestic. She always responded with equal +calm, pride, and cheerful equanimity. Sometimes she was friendly, +but generally her every look, every word, and every movement +expressed equanimity--not contemptuous, but crushing and +bewitching. Every day with a feigned smile on my lips I tried to +play a part, and with torments of passion and desire in my heart I +spoke banteringly to her. She saw that I was dissembling, but +looked straight at me cheerfully and simply. This position became +unbearable. I wished not to deceive her but to tell her all I +thought and felt. I was extremely agitated. We were in the +vineyard when I began to tell her of my love, in words I am now +ashamed to remember. I am ashamed because I ought not to have +dared to speak so to her because she stood far above such words +and above the feeling they were meant to express. I said no more, +but from that day my position has been intolerable. I did not wish +to demean myself by continuing our former flippant relations, and +at the same time I felt that I had not yet reached the level of +straight and simple relations with her. I asked myself +despairingly, "What am I to do?" In foolish dreams I imagined her +now as my mistress and now as my wife, but rejected both ideas +with disgust. To make her a wanton woman would be dreadful. It +would be murder. To turn her into a fine lady, the wife of Dmitri +Andreich Olenin, like a Cossack woman here who is married to one +of our officers, would be still worse. Now could I turn Cossack +like Lukashka, and steal horses, get drunk on chikhir, sing +rollicking songs, kill people, and when drunk climb in at her +window for the night without a thought of who and what I am, it +would be different: then we might understand one another and I +might be happy. + +'I tried to throw myself into that kind of life but was still more +conscious of my own weakness and artificiality. I cannot forget +myself and my complex, distorted past, and my future appears to me +still more hopeless. Every day I have before me the distant snowy +mountains and this majestic, happy woman. But not for me is the +only happiness possible in the world; I cannot have this woman! +What is most terrible and yet sweetest in my condition is that I +feel that I understand her but that she will never understand me; +not because she is inferior: on the contrary she ought not to +understand me. She is happy, she is like nature: consistent, calm, +and self-contained; and I, a weak distorted being, want her to +understand my deformity and my torments! I have not slept at +night, but have aimlessly passed under her windows not rendering +account to myself of what was happening to me. On the 18th our +company started on a raid, and I spent three days away from the +village. I was sad and apathetic, the usual songs, cards, +drinking-bouts, and talk of rewards in the regiment, were more +repulsive to me than usual. Yesterday I returned home and saw her, +my hut. Daddy Eroshka, and the snowy mountains, from my porch, and +was seized by such a strong, new feeling of joy that I understood +it all. I love this woman; I feel real love for the first and only +time in my life. I know what has befallen me. I do not fear to be +degraded by this feeling, I am not ashamed of my love, I am proud +of it. It is not my fault that I love. It has come about against +my will. I tried to escape from my love by self-renunciation, and +tried to devise a joy in the Cossack Lukashka's and Maryanka's +love, but thereby only stirred up my own love and jealousy. This +is not the ideal, the so-called exalted love which I have known +before; not that sort of attachment in which you admire your own +love and feel that the source of your emotion is within yourself +and do everything yourself. I have felt that too. It is still less +a desire for enjoyment: it is something different. Perhaps in her +I love nature: the personification of all that is beautiful in +nature; but yet I am not acting by my own will, but some elemental +force loves through me; the whole of God's world, all nature, +presses this love into my soul and says, "Love her." I love her +not with my mind or my imagination, but with my whole being. +Loving her I feel myself to be an integral part of all God's joyous +world. I wrote before about the new convictions to which my solitary +life had brought me, but no one knows with what labour they shaped +themselves within me and with what joy I realized them and saw a +new way of life opening out before me; nothing was dearer to me than +those convictions... Well! ... love has come and neither they nor any +regrets for them remain! It is even difficult for me to believe that +I could prize such a one-sided, cold, and abstract state of mind. +Beauty came and scattered to the winds all that laborious inward toil, +and no regret remains for what has vanished! Self-renunciation is +all nonsense and absurdity! That is pride, a refuge from well-merited +unhappiness, and salvation from the envy of others' happiness: "Live +for others, and do good!"--Why? when in my soul there is only love for +myself and the desire to love her and to live her life with her? +Not for others, not for Lukashka, I now desire happiness. I do not +now love those others. Formerly I should have told myself that +this is wrong. I should have tormented myself with the questions: +What will become of her, of me, and of Lukashka? Now I don't care. +I do not live my own life, there is something stronger than me +which directs me. I suffer; but formerly I was dead and only now +do I live. Today I will go to their house and tell her +everything.' + + + + +Chapter XXXIV + + +Late that evening, after writing this letter, Olenin went to his +hosts' hut. The old woman was sitting on a bench behind the oven +unwinding cocoons. Maryanka with her head uncovered sat sewing by +the light of a candle. On seeing Olenin she jumped up, took her +kerchief and stepped to the oven. 'Maryanka dear,' said her +mother, 'won't you sit here with me a bit?' 'No, I'm bareheaded,' +she replied, and sprang up on the oven. Olenin could only see a +knee, and one of her shapely legs hanging down from the oven. He +treated the old woman to tea. She treated her guest to clotted cream +which she sent Maryanka to fetch. But having put a plateful on the +table Maryanka again sprang on the oven from whence Olenin felt her +eyes upon him. They talked about household matters. Granny Ulitka +became animated and went into raptures of hospitality. She brought +Olenin preserved grapes and a grape tart and some of her best wine, +and pressed him to eat and drink with the rough yet proud hospitality +of country folk, only found among those who produce their bread by +the labour of their own hands. The old woman, who had at first struck +Olenin so much by her rudeness, now often touched him by her simple +tenderness towards her daughter. + +'Yes, we need not offend the Lord by grumbling! We have enough of +everything, thank God. We have pressed sufficient CHIKHIR and have +preserved and shall sell three or four barrels of grapes and have +enough left to drink. Don't be in a hurry to leave us. We will +make merry together at the wedding.' + +'And when is the wedding to be?' asked Olenin, feeling his blood +suddenly rush to his face while his heart beat irregularly and +painfully. + +He heard a movement on the oven and the sound of seeds being +cracked. + +'Well, you know, it ought to be next week. We are quite ready,' +replied the old woman, as simply and quietly as though Olenin did +not exist. 'I have prepared and have procured everything for +Maryanka. We will give her away properly. Only there's one thing +not quite right. Our Lukashka has been running rather wild. He has +been too much on the spree! He's up to tricks! The other day a +Cossack came here from his company and said he had been to Nogay.' + +'He must mind he does not get caught,' said Olenin. + +'Yes, that's what I tell him. "Mind, Lukashka, don't you get into +mischief. Well, of course, a young fellow naturally wants to cut a +dash. But there's a time for everything. Well, you've captured or +stolen something and killed an abrek! Well, you're a fine fellow! +But now you should live quietly for a bit, or else there'll be +trouble."' + +'Yes, I saw him a time or two in the division, he was always +merry-making. He has sold another horse,' said Olenin, and glanced +towards the oven. A pair of large, dark, and hostile eyes +glittered as they gazed severely at him. + +He became ashamed of what he had said. 'What of it? He does no one +any harm,' suddenly remarked Maryanka. 'He makes merry with his +own money,' and lowering her legs she jumped down from the oven +and went out banging the door. + +Olenin followed her with his eyes as long as she was in the hut, +and then looked at the door and waited, understanding nothing of +what Granny Ulitka was telling him. + +A few minutes later some visitors arrived: an old man, Granny +Ulitka's brother, with Daddy Eroshka, and following them came +Maryanka and Ustenka. + +'Good evening,' squeaked Ustenka. 'Still on holiday?' she added, +turning to Olenin. + +'Yes, still on holiday,' he replied, and felt, he did not know +why, ashamed and ill at ease. + +He wished to go away but could not. It also seemed to him +impossible to remain silent. The old man helped him by asking for +a drink, and they had a drink. Olenin drank with Eroshka, with the +other Cossack, and again with Eroshka, and the more he drank the +heavier was his heart. But the two old men grew merry. The girls +climbed onto the oven, where they sat whispering and looking at +the men, who drank till it was late. Olenin did not talk, but +drank more than the others. The Cossacks were shouting. The old +woman would not let them have any more chikhir, and at last turned +them out. The girls laughed at Daddy Eroshka, and it was past ten +when they all went out into the porch. The old men invited +themselves to finish their merry-making at Olenin's. Ustenka ran +off home and Eroshka led the old Cossack to Vanyusha. The old +woman went out to tidy up the shed. Maryanka remained alone in the +hut. Olenin felt fresh and joyous, as if he had only just woke up. +He noticed everything, and having let the old men pass ahead he +turned back to the hut where Maryanka was preparing for bed. He +went up to her and wished to say something, but his voice broke. +She moved away from him, sat down cross-legged on her bed in the +corner, and looked at him silently with wild and frightened eyes. +She was evidently afraid of him. Olenin felt this. He felt sorry +and ashamed of himself, and at the same time proud and pleased +that he aroused even that feeling in her. + +'Maryanka!' he said. 'Will you never take pity on me? I can't tell +you how I love you.' + +She moved still farther away. + +'Just hear how the wine is speaking! ... You'll get nothing from +me!' + +'No, it is not the wine. Don't marry Lukashka. I will marry you.' +('What am I saying,' he thought as he uttered these words. 'Shall +I be able to say the same to-morrow?' 'Yes, I shall, I am sure I +shall, and I will repeat them now,' replied an inner voice.) + +'Will you marry me?' + +She looked at him seriously and her fear seemed to have passed. + +'Maryanka, I shall go out of my mind! I am not myself. I will do +whatever you command,' and madly tender words came from his lips +of their own accord. + +'Now then, what are you drivelling about?' she interrupted, +suddenly seizing the arm he was stretching towards her. She did +not push his arm away but pressed it firmly with her strong hard +fingers. 'Do gentlemen marry Cossack girls? Go away!' + +'But will you? Everything...' + +'And what shall we do with Lukashka?' said she, laughing. + +He snatched away the arm she was holding and firmly embraced her +young body, but she sprang away like a fawn and ran barefoot into +the porch: Olenin came to his senses and was terrified at himself. +He again felt himself inexpressibly vile compared to her, yet not +repenting for an instant of what he had said he went home, and +without even glancing at the old men who were drinking in his room +he lay down and fell asleep more soundly than he had done for a +long time. + + + + +Chapter XXXV + + +The next day was a holiday. In the evening all the villagers, +their holiday clothes shining in the sunset, were out in the +street. That season more wine than usual had been produced, and +the people were now free from their labours. In a month the +Cossacks were to start on a campaign and in many families +preparations were being made for weddings. + +Most of the people were standing in the square in front of the +Cossack Government Office and near the two shops, in one of which +cakes and pumpkin seeds were sold, in the other kerchiefs and +cotton prints. On the earth-embankment of the office-building sat +or stood the old men in sober grey, or black coats without gold +trimmings or any kind of ornament. They conversed among themselves +quietly in measured tones, about the harvest, about the young +folk, about village affairs, and about old times, looking with +dignified equanimity at the younger generation. Passing by them, +the women and girls stopped and bent their heads. The young +Cossacks respectfully slackened their pace and raised their caps, +holding them for a while over their heads. The old men then +stopped speaking. Some of them watched the passers-by severely, +others kindly, and in their turn slowly took off their caps and +put them on again. + +The Cossack girls had not yet started dancing their khorovods, but +having gathered in groups, in their bright coloured beshmets with +white kerchiefs on their heads pulled down to their eyes, they sat +either on the ground or on the earth-banks about the huts +sheltered from the oblique rays of the sun, and laughed and +chattered in their ringing voices. Little boys and girls playing +in the square sent their balls high up into the clear sky, and ran +about squealing and shouting. The half-grown girls had started +dancing their khorovods, and were timidly singing in their thin +shrill voices. Clerks, lads not in the service, or home for the +holiday, bright-faced and wearing smart white or new red +Circassian gold-trimmed coats, went about arm in arm in twos or +threes from one group of women or girls to another, and stopped to +joke and chat with the Cossack girls. The Armenian shopkeeper, in +a gold-trimmed coat of fine blue cloth, stood at the open door +through which piles of folded bright-coloured kerchiefs were +visible and, conscious of his own importance and with the pride of +an Oriental tradesman, waited for customers. Two red-bearded, +barefooted Chechens, who had come from beyond the Terek to see the +fete, sat on their heels outside the house of a friend, +negligently smoking their little pipes and occasionally spitting, +watching the villagers and exchanging remarks with one another in +their rapid guttural speech. Occasionally a workaday-looking +soldier in an old overcoat passed across the square among the +bright-clad girls. Here and there the songs of tipsy Cossacks who +were merry-making could already be heard. All the huts were +closed; the porches had been scrubbed clean the day before. Even +the old women were out in the street, which was everywhere +sprinkled with pumpkin and melon seed-shells. The air was warm and +still, the sky deep and clear. Beyond the roofs the dead-white +mountain range, which seemed very near, was turning rosy in the +glow of the evening sun. Now and then from the other side of the +river came the distant roar of a cannon, but above the village, +mingling with one another, floated all sorts of merry holiday +sounds. + +Olenin had been pacing the yard all that morning hoping to see +Maryanka. But she, having put on holiday clothes, went to Mass at +the chapel and afterwards sat with the other girls on an earth- +embankment cracking seeds; sometimes again, together with her +companions, she ran home, and each time gave the lodger a bright +and kindly look. Olenin felt afraid to address her playfully or in +the presence of others. He wished to finish telling her what he +had begun to say the night before, and to get her to give him a +definite answer. He waited for another moment like that of +yesterday evening, but the moment did not come, and he felt that +he could not remain any longer in this uncertainty. She went out +into the street again, and after waiting awhile he too went out +and without knowing where he was going he followed her. He passed +by the corner where she was sitting in her shining blue satin +beshmet, and with an aching heart he heard behind him the girls +laughing. + +Beletski's hut looked out onto the square. As Olenin was passing +it he heard Beletski's voice calling to him, 'Come in,' and in he +went. + +After a short talk they both sat down by the window and were soon +joined by Eroshka, who entered dressed in a new beshmet and sat +down on the floor beside them. + +'There, that's the aristocratic party,' said Beletski, pointing +with his cigarette to a brightly coloured group at the corner. +'Mine is there too. Do you see her? in red. That's a new beshmet. +Why don't you start the khorovod?' he shouted, leaning out of the +window. 'Wait a bit, and then when it grows dark let us go too. +Then we will invite them to Ustenka's. We must arrange a ball for +them!' + +'And I will come to Ustenka's,' said Olenin in a decided tone. +'Will Maryanka be there?' + +'Yes, she'll be there. Do come!' said Beletski, without the least +surprise. 'But isn't it a pretty picture?' he added, pointing to +the motley crowds. + +'Yes, very!' Olenin assented, trying to appear indifferent. + +'Holidays of this kind,' he added, 'always make me wonder why all +these people should suddenly be contented and jolly. To-day for +instance, just because it happens to be the fifteenth of the +month, everything is festive. Eyes and faces and voices and +movements and garments, and the air and the sun, are all in a +holiday mood. And we no longer have any holidays!' + +'Yes,' said Beletski, who did not like such reflections. + +'And why are you not drinking, old fellow?' he said, turning to +Eroshka. + +Eroshka winked at Olenin, pointing to Beletski. 'Eh, he's a proud +one that kunak of yours,' he said. + +Beletski raised his glass. ALLAH BIRDY' he said, emptying it. +(ALLAH BIRDY, 'God has given!'--the usual greeting of Caucasians +when drinking together.) + +'Sau bul' ('Your health'), answered Eroshka smiling, and emptied +his glass. + +'Speaking of holidays!' he said, turning to Olenin as he rose and +looked out of the window, 'What sort of holiday is that! You +should have seen them make merry in the old days! The women used +to come out in their gold--trimmed sarafans. Two rows of gold +coins hanging round their necks and gold-cloth diadems on their +heads, and when they passed they made a noise, "flu, flu," with +their dresses. Every woman looked like a princess. Sometimes +they'd come out, a whole herd of them, and begin singing songs so +that the air seemed to rumble, and they went on making merry all +night. And the Cossacks would roll out a barrel into the yards and +sit down and drink till break of day, or they would go hand--in-- +hand sweeping the village. Whoever they met they seized and took +along with them, and went from house to house. Sometimes they used +to make merry for three days on end. Father used to come home--I +still remember it--quite red and swollen, without a cap, having +lost everything: he'd come and lie down. Mother knew what to do: +she would bring him some fresh caviar and a little chikhir to +sober him up, and would herself run about in the village looking +for his cap. Then he'd sleep for two days! That's the sort of +fellows they were then! But now what are they?' + +'Well, and the girls in the sarafans, did they make merry all by +themselves?' asked Beletski. + +'Yes, they did! Sometimes Cossacks would come on foot or on horse +and say, "Let's break up the khorovods," and they'd go, but the +girls would take up cudgels. Carnival week, some young fellow +would come galloping up, and they'd cudgel his horse and cudgel +him too. But he'd break through, seize the one he loved, and carry +her off. And his sweetheart would love him to his heart's content! +Yes, the girls in those days, they were regular queens!' + + + + +Chapter XXXVI + + +Just then two men rode out of the side street into the square. One +of them was Nazarka. The other, Lukashka, sat slightly sideways on +his well-fed bay Kabarda horse which stepped lightly over the hard +road jerking its beautiful head with its fine glossy mane. The +well-adjusted gun in its cover, the pistol at his back, and the +cloak rolled up behind his saddle showed that Lukashka had not +come from a peaceful place or from one near by. The smart way in +which he sat a little sideways on his horse, the careless motion +with which he touched the horse under its belly with his whip, and +especially his half-closed black eyes, glistening as he looked +proudly around him, all expressed the conscious strength and self- +confidence of youth. 'Ever seen as fine a lad?' his eyes, looking +from side to side, seemed to say. The elegant horse with its +silver ornaments and trappings, the weapons, and the handsome +Cossack himself attracted the attention of everyone in the square. +Nazarka, lean and short, was much less well dressed. As he rode +past the old men, Lukashka paused and raised his curly white +sheepskin cap above his closely cropped black head. + +'Well, have you carried off many Nogay horses?' asked a lean old +man with a frowning, lowering look. + +'Have you counted them, Grandad, that you ask?' replied Lukashka, +turning away. + +'That's all very well, but you need not take my lad along with +you,' the old man muttered with a still darker frown. + +'Just see the old devil, he knows everything,' muttered Lukashka +to himself, and a worried expression came over his face; but then, +noticing a corner where a number of Cossack girls were standing, +he turned his horse towards them. + +'Good evening, girls!' he shouted in his powerful, resonant voice, +suddenly checking his horse. 'You've grown old without me, you +witches!' and he laughed. + +'Good evening, Lukashka! Good evening, laddie!' the merry voices +answered. 'Have you brought much money? Buy some sweets for the +girls! ... Have you come for long? True enough, it's long since we +saw you....' + +'Nazarka and I have just flown across to make a night of it,' +replied Lukashka, raising his whip and riding straight at the +girls. + +'Why, Maryanka has quite forgotten you,' said Ustenka, nudging +Maryanka with her elbow and breaking into a shrill laugh. + +Maryanka moved away from the horse and throwing back her head +calmly looked at the Cossack with her large sparkling eyes. + +'True enough, you have not been home for a long time! Why are you +trampling us under your horse?' she remarked dryly, and turned +away. + +Lukashka had appeared particularly merry. His face shone with +audacity and joy. Obviously staggered by Maryanka's cold reply he +suddenly knitted his brow. + +'Step up on my stirrup and I'll carry you away to the mountains. +Mammy!' he suddenly exclaimed, and as if to disperse his dark +thoughts he caracoled among the girls. Stooping down towards +Maryanka, he said, 'I'll kiss, oh, how I'll kiss you! ...' + +Maryanka's eyes met his and she suddenly blushed and stepped back. + +'Oh, bother you! you'll crush my feet,' she said, and bending her +head looked at her well-shaped feet in their tightly fitting light +blue stockings with clocks and her new red slippers trimmed with +narrow silver braid. + +Lukashka turned towards Ustenka, and Maryanka sat down next to a +woman with a baby in her arms. The baby stretched his plump little +hands towards the girl and seized a necklace string that hung down +onto her blue beshmet. Maryanka bent towards the child and glanced +at Lukashka from the comer of her eyes. Lukashka just then was +getting out from under his coat, from the pocket of his black +beshmet, a bundle of sweetmeats and seeds. + +'There, I give them to all of you,' he said, handing the bundle to +Ustenka and smiling at Maryanka. + +A confused expression again appeared on the girl's face. It was as +though a mist gathered over her beautiful eyes. She drew her +kerchief down below her lips, and leaning her head over the fair- +skinned face of the baby that still held her by her coin necklace +she suddenly began to kiss it greedily. The baby pressed his +little hands against the girl's high breasts, and opening his +toothless mouth screamed loudly. + +"You're smothering the boy!" said the little one's mother, taking +him away; and she unfastened her beshmet to give him the breast. +"You'd better have a chat with the young fellow." + +"I'll only go and put up my horse and then Nazarka and I will come +back; we'll make merry all night," said Lukashka, touching his +horse with his whip and riding away from the girls. + +Turning into a side street, he and Nazarka rode up to two huts +that stood side by side. + +"Here we are all right, old fellow! Be quick and come soon!" +called Lukashka to his comrade, dismounting in front of one of the +huts; then he carefully led his horse in at the gate of the wattle +fence of his own home. + +"How d'you do, Stepka?" he said to his dumb sister, who, smartly +dressed like the others, came in from the street to take his +horse; and he made signs to her to take the horse to the hay, but +not to unsaddle it. + +The dumb girl made her usual humming noise, smacked her lips as +she pointed to the horse and kissed it on the nose, as much as to +say that she loved it and that it was a fine horse. + +"How d'you do. Mother? How is it that you have not gone out yet?" +shouted Lukashka, holding his gun in place as he mounted the steps +of the porch. + +His old mother opened the door. + +"Dear me! I never expected, never thought, you'd come," said the +old woman. "Why, Kirka said you wouldn't be here." + +"Go and bring some chikhir, Mother. Nazarka is coming here and we +will celebrate the feast day." + +"Directly, Lukashka, directly!" answered the old woman. "Our women +are making merry. I expect our dumb one has gone too." + +She took her keys and hurriedly went to the outhouse. Nazarka, +after putting up his horse and taking the gun off his shoulder, +returned to Lukashka's house and went in. + + + + +Chapter XXXVII + + +'Your health!' said Lukashka, taking from his mother's hands a cup +filled to the brim with chikhir and carefully raising it to his +bowed head. + +'A bad business!' said Nazarka. 'You heard how Daddy Burlak said, +"Have you stolen many horses?" He seems to know!' + +'A regular wizard!' Lukashka replied shortly. 'But what of it!' he +added, tossing his head. 'They are across the river by now. Go and +find them!' + +'Still it's a bad lookout.' + +'What's a bad lookout? Go and take some chikhir to him to-morrow +and nothing will come of it. Now let's make merry. Drink!' shouted +Lukashka, just in the tone in which old Eroshka uttered the word. +'We'll go out into the street and make merry with the girls. You +go and get some honey; or no, I'll send our dumb wench. We'll make +merry till morning.' + +Nazarka smiled. + +'Are we stopping here long?' he asked. + +Till we've had a bit of fun. Run and get some vodka. Here's the +money.' + +Nazarka ran off obediently to get the vodka from Yamka's. + +Daddy Eroshka and Ergushov, like birds of prey, scenting where the +merry-making was going on, tumbled into the hut one after the +other, both tipsy. + +'Bring us another half-pail,' shouted Lukashka to his mother, by +way of reply to their greeting. + +'Now then, tell us where did you steal them, you devil?' shouted +Eroshka. 'Fine fellow, I'm fond of you!' + +'Fond indeed...' answered Lukashka laughing, 'carrying sweets from +cadets to lasses! Eh, you old...' + +'That's not true, not true! ... Oh, Mark,' and the old man burst +out laughing. 'And how that devil begged me. "Go," he said, "and +arrange it." He offered me a gun! But no. I'd have managed it, but +I feel for you. Now tell us where have you been?' And the old man +began speaking in Tartar. + +Lukashka answered him promptly. + +Ergushov, who did not know much Tartar, only occasionally put in a +word in Russian: 'What I say is he's driven away the horses. I +know it for a fact,' he chimed in. + +'Girey and I went together.' (His speaking of Girey Khan as +'Girey' was, to the Cossack mind, evidence of his boldness.) 'Just +beyond the river he kept bragging that he knew the whole of the +steppe and would lead the way straight, but we rode on and the +night was dark, and my Girey lost his way and began wandering in a +circle without getting anywhere: couldn't find the village, and +there we were. We must have gone too much to the right. I believe +we wandered about well--nigh till midnight. Then, thank goodness, +we heard dogs howling.' + +'Fools!' said Daddy Eroshka. 'There now, we too used to lose our +way in the steppe. (Who the devil can follow it?) But I used to +ride up a hillock and start howling like the wolves, like this!' +He placed his hands before his mouth, and howled like a pack of +wolves, all on one note. 'The dogs would answer at once ... Well, +go on--so you found them?' + +'We soon led them away! Nazarka was nearly caught by some Nogay +women, he was!' + +'Caught indeed,' Nazarka, who had just come back, said in an +injured tone. + +'We rode off again, and again Girey lost his way and almost landed +us among the sand-drifts. We thought we were just getting to the +Terek but we were riding away from it all the time!' + +'You should have steered by the stars,' said Daddy Eroshka. + +'That's what I say,' interjected Ergushov, + +'Yes, steer when all is black; I tried and tried all about... and +at last I put the bridle on one of the mares and let my own horse +go free--thinking he'll lead us out, and what do you think! he +just gave a snort or two with his nose to the ground, galloped +ahead, and led us straight to our village. Thank goodness! It was +getting quite light. We barely had time to hide them in the +forest. Nagim came across the river and took them away.' + +Ergushov shook his head. 'It's just what I said. Smart. Did you +get much for them?' + +'It's all here,' said Lukashka, slapping his pocket. + +Just then his mother came into the room, and Lukashka did not +finish what he was saying. + +'Drink!' he shouted. + +'We too, Girich and I, rode out late one night...' began Eroshka. + +'Oh bother, we'll never hear the end of you!' said Lukashka. 'I am +going.' And having emptied his cup and tightened the strap of his +belt he went out. + + + + +Chapter XXXVIII + + +It was already dark when Lukashka went out into the street. The +autumn night was fresh and calm. The full golden moon floated up +behind the tall dark poplars that grew on one side of the square. +From the chimneys of the outhouses smoke rose and spread above the +village, mingling with the mist. Here and there lights shone +through the windows, and the air was laden with the smell of +kisyak, grape-pulp, and mist. The sounds of voices, laughter, +songs, and the cracking of seeds mingled just as they had done in +the daytime, but were now more distinct. Clusters of white +kerchiefs and caps gleamed through the darkness near the houses +and by the fences. + +In the square, before the shop door which was lit up and open, the +black and white figures of Cossack men and maids showed through +the darkness, and one heard from afar their loud songs and +laughter and talk. The girls, hand in hand, went round and round +in a circle stepping lightly in the dusty square. A skinny girl, +the plainest of them all, set the tune: + + 'From beyond the wood, from the forest dark, + From the garden green and the shady park, + There came out one day two young lads so gay. + Young bachelors, hey! brave and smart were they! + And they walked and walked, then stood still, each man, + And they talked and soon to dispute began! + Then a maid came out; as she came along, + Said, "To one of you I shall soon belong!" + 'Twas the fair-faced lad got the maiden fair, + Yes, the fair-faced lad with the golden hair! + Her right hand so white in his own took he, + And he led her round for his mates to see! + And said, "Have you ever in all your life, + Met a lass as fair as my sweet little wife?"' + +The old women stood round listening to the songs. The little boys +and girls ran about chasing one another in the dark. The men stood +by, catching at the girls as the latter moved round, and sometimes +breaking the ring and entering it. On the dark side of the doorway +stood Beletski and Olenin, in their Circassian coats and sheepskin +caps, and talked together in a style of speech unlike that of the +Cossacks, in low but distinct tones, conscious that they were +attracting attention. Next to one another in the khorovod circle +moved plump little Ustenka in her red beshmet and the stately +Maryanka in her new smock and beshmet. Olenin and Beletski were +discussing how to snatch Ustenka and Maryanka out of the ring. +Beletski thought that Olenin wished only to amuse himself, but +Olenin was expecting his fate to be decided. He wanted at any cost +to see Maryanka alone that very day and to tell her everything, +and ask her whether she could and would be his wife. Although that +question had long been answered in the negative in his own mind, +he hoped he would be able to tell her all he felt, and that she +would understand him. + +'Why did you not tell me sooner?' said Beletski. 'I would have got +Ustenka to arrange it for you. You are such a queer fellow! ...' + +'What's to be done! ... Some day, very soon, I'll tell you all +about it. Only now, for Heaven's sake, arrange so that she should +come to Ustenka's.' + +'All right, that's easily done! Well, Maryanka, will you belong to +the "fair-faced lad", and not to Lukashka?' said Beletski, +speaking to Maryanka first for propriety's sake, but having +received no reply he went up to Ustenka and begged her to bring +Maryanka home with her. He had hardly time to finish what he was +saying before the leader began another song and the girls started +pulling each other round in the ring by the hand. + +They sang: + + "Past the garden, by the garden, + A young man came strolling down, + Up the street and through the town. + And the first time as he passed + He did wave his strong right hand. + As the second time he passed + Waved his hat with silken band. + But the third time as he went + He stood still: before her bent. + + "How is it that thou, my dear, + My reproaches dost not fear? + In the park don't come to walk + That we there might have a talk? + Come now, answer me, my dear, + Dost thou hold me in contempt? + Later on, thou knowest, dear, + Thou'lt get sober and repent. + Soon to woo thee I will come, + And when we shall married be + Thou wilt weep because of me!" + + "Though I knew what to reply, + Yet I dared not him deny, + No, I dared not him deny! + So into the park went I, + In the park my lad to meet, + There my dear one I did greet." + + "Maiden dear, I bow to thee! + Take this handkerchief from me. + In thy white hand take it, see! + Say I am beloved by thee. + I don't know at all, I fear, + What I am to give thee, dear! + To my dear I think I will + Of a shawl a present make-- + And five kisses for it take."' + +Lukashka and Nazarka broke into the ring and started walking about +among the girls. Lukashka joined in the singing, taking seconds in +his clear voice as he walked in the middle of the ring swinging +his arms. 'Well, come in, one of you!' he said. The other girls +pushed Maryanka, but she would not enter the ring. The sound of +shrill laughter, slaps, kisses, and whispers mingled with the +singing. + +As he went past Olenin, Lukashka gave a friendly nod. + +'Dmitri Andreich! Have you too come to have a look?' he said. + +'Yes,' answered Olenin dryly. + +Beletski stooped and whispered something into Ustenka's ear. She +had not time to reply till she came round again, when she said: + +'All right, we'll come.' + +'And Maryanka too?' + +Olenin stooped towards Maryanka. 'You'll come? Please do, if only +for a minute. I must speak to you.' + +'If the other girls come, I will.' + +'Will you answer my question?' said he, bending towards her. 'You +are in good spirits to-day.' + +She had already moved past him. He went after her. + +'Will you answer?' + +'Answer what?' + +'The question I asked you the other day,' said Olenin, stooping to +her ear. 'Will you marry me?' + +Maryanka thought for a moment. + +'I'll tell you,' said she, 'I'll tell you to-night.' + +And through the darkness her eyes gleamed brightly and kindly at +the young man. + +He still followed her. He enjoyed stooping closer to her. But +Lukashka, without ceasing to sing, suddenly seized her firmly by +the hand and pulled her from her place in the ring of girls into +the middle. Olenin had only time to say, "Come to Ustenka's," and +stepped back to his companion. + +The song came to an end. Lukashka wiped his lips, Maryanka did the +same, and they kissed. "No, no, kisses five!" said Lukashka. +Chatter, laughter, and running about, succeeded to the rhythmic +movements and sound. Lukashka, who seemed to have drunk a great +deal, began to distribute sweetmeats to the girls. + +"I offer them to everyone!" he said with proud, comically pathetic +self-admiration. "But anyone who goes after soldiers goes out of +the ring!" he suddenly added, with an angry glance at Olenin. + +The girls grabbed his sweetmeats from him, and, laughing, +struggled for them among themselves. Beletski and Olenin stepped +aside. + +Lukashka, as if ashamed of his generosity, took off his cap and +wiping his forehead with his sleeve came up to Maryanka and +Ustenka. + +"Answer me, my dear, dost thou hold me in contempt?" he said in +the words of the song they had just been singing, and turning to +Maryanka he angrily repeated the words: "Dost thou hold me in +contempt? When we shall married be thou wilt weep because of me!" +he added, embracing Ustenka and Maryanka both together. + +Ustenka tore herself away, and swinging her arm gave him such a +blow on the back that she hurt her hand. + +"Well, are you going to have another turn?" he asked. + +"The other girls may if they like," answered Ustenka, "but I am +going home and Maryanka was coming to our house too." + +With his arm still round her, Lukashka led Maryanka away from the +crowd to the darker comer of a house. + +"Don't go, Maryanka," he said, "let's have some fun for the last +time. Go home and I will come to you!" + +"What am I to do at home? Holidays are meant for merrymaking. I am +going to Ustenka's," replied Maryanka. + +'I'll marry you all the same, you know!' + +'All right,' said Maryanka, 'we shall see when the time comes.' + +'So you are going,' said Lukashka sternly, and, pressing her +close, he kissed her on the cheek. + +'There, leave off! Don't bother,' and Maryanka, wrenching herself +from his arms, moved away. + +'Ah my girl, it will turn out badly,' said Lukashka reproachfully +and stood still, shaking his head. 'Thou wilt weep because of +me...' and turning away from her he shouted to the other girls: + +'Now then! Play away!' + +What he had said seemed to have frightened and vexed Maryanka. She +stopped, 'What will turn out badly?' + +'Why, that!' + +'That what?' + +'Why, that you keep company with a soldier-lodger and no longer +care for me!' + +'I'll care just as long as I choose. You're not my father, nor my +mother. What do you want? I'll care for whom I like!' + +'Well, all right...' said Lukashka, 'but remember!' He moved +towards the shop. 'Girls!' he shouted, 'why have you stopped? Go +on dancing. Nazarka, fetch some more chikhir.' + +'Well, will they come?' asked Olenin, addressing Beletski. + +'They'll come directly,' replied Beletski. 'Come along, we must +prepare the ball.' + + + + +Chapter XXXIX + + +It was already late in the night when Olenin came out of +Beletski's hut following Maryanka and Ustenka. He saw in the dark +street before him the gleam of the girl's white kerchief. The +golden moon was descending towards the steppe. A silvery mist hung +over the village. All was still; there were no lights anywhere and +one heard only the receding footsteps of the young women. Olenin's +heart beat fast. The fresh moist atmosphere cooled his burning +face. He glanced at the sky and turned to look at the hut he had +just come out of: the candle was already out. Then he again peered +through the darkness at the girls' retreating shadows. The white +kerchief disappeared in the mist. He was afraid to remain alone, +he was so happy. He jumped down from the porch and ran after the +girls. + +'Bother you, someone may see...' said Ustenka. + +'Never mind!' + +Olenin ran up to Maryanka and embraced her. + +Maryanka did not resist. + +'Haven't you kissed enough yet?' said Ustenka. 'Marry and then +kiss, but now you'd better wait.' + +'Good-night, Maryanka. To-morrow I will come to see your father +and tell him. Don't you say anything.' + +'Why should I!' answered Maryanka. + +Both the girls started running. Olenin went on by himself thinking +over all that had happened. He had spent the whole evening alone +with her in a corner by the oven. Ustenka had not left the hut for +a single moment, but had romped about with the other girls and +with Beletski all the time. Olenin had talked in whispers to +Maryanka. + +'Will you marry me?' he had asked. + +'You'd deceive me and not have me,' she replied cheerfully and +calmly. + +'But do you love me? Tell me for God's sake!' + +'Why shouldn't I love you? You don't squint,' answered Maryanka, +laughing and with her hard hands squeezing his.... + +'What whi-ite, whi-i-ite, soft hands you've got--so like clotted +cream,' she said. + +'I am in earnest. Tell me, will you marry me?' + +'Why not, if father gives me to you?' + +'Well then remember, I shall go mad if you deceive me. To-morrow I +will tell your mother and father. I shall come and propose.' + +Maryanka suddenly burst out laughing. + +'What's the matter?' + +'It seems so funny!' + +'It's true! I will buy a vineyard and a house and will enroll +myself as a Cossack.' + +'Mind you don't go after other women then. I am severe about +that.' + +Olenin joyfully repeated all these words to himself. The memory of +them now gave him pain and now such joy that it took away his +breath. The pain was because she had remained as calm as usual +while talking to him. She did not seem at all agitated by these +new conditions. It was as if she did not trust him and did not +think of the future. It seemed to him that she only loved him for +the present moment, and that in her mind there was no future with +him. He was happy because her words sounded to him true, and she +had consented to be his. 'Yes,' thought he to himself, 'we shall +only understand one another when she is quite mine. For such love +there are no words. It needs life--the whole of life. To-morrow +everything will be cleared up. I cannot live like this any longer; +to-morrow I will tell everything to her father, to Beletski, and +to the whole village.' + +Lukashka, after two sleepless nights, had drunk so much at the +fete that for the first time in his life his feet would not carry +him, and he slept in Yamka's house. + + + + +Chapter XL + + +The next day Olenin awoke earlier than usual, and immediately +remembered what lay before him, and he joyfully recalled her +kisses, the pressure of her hard hands, and her words, 'What white +hands you have!' He jumped up and wished to go at once to his +hosts' hut to ask for their consent to his marriage with Maryanka. +The sun had not yet risen, but it seemed that there was an unusual +bustle in the street and side-street: people were moving about on +foot and on horseback, and talking. He threw on his Circassian +coat and hastened out into the porch. His hosts were not yet up. +Five Cossacks were riding past and talking loudly together. In +front rode Lukashka on his broad-backed Kabarda horse. + +The Cossacks were all speaking and shouting so that it was +impossible to make out exactly what they were saying. + +'Ride to the Upper Post,' shouted one. + +'Saddle and catch us up, be quick,' said another. + +'It's nearer through the other gate!' + +'What are you talking about?' cried Lukashka. 'We must go through +the middle gates, of course.' + +'So we must, it's nearer that way,' said one of the Cossacks who +was covered with dust and rode a perspiring horse. Lukashka's face +was red and swollen after the drinking of the previous night and +his cap was pushed to the back of his head. He was calling out +with authority as though he were an officer. + +'What is the matter? Where are you going?' asked Olenin, with +difficulty attracting the Cossacks' attention. + +'We are off to catch abreks. They're hiding among the sand-drifts. +We are just off, but there are not enough of us yet.' + +And the Cossacks continued to shout, more and more of them joining +as they rode down the street. It occurred to Olenin that it would +not look well for him to stay behind; besides he thought he could +soon come back. He dressed, loaded his gun with bullets, jumped +onto his horse which Vanyusha had saddled more or less well, and +overtook the Cossacks at the village gates. The Cossacks had +dismounted, and filling a wooden bowl with chikhir from a little +cask which they had brought with them, they passed the bowl round +to one another and drank to the success of their expedition. Among +them was a smartly dressed young cornet, who happened to be in the +village and who took command of the group of nine Cossacks who had +joined for the expedition. All these Cossacks were privates, and +although the cornet assumed the airs of a commanding officer, they +only obeyed Lukashka. Of Olenin they took no notice at all, and +when they had all mounted and started, and Olenin rode up to the +cornet and began asking him what was taking place, the cornet, who +was usually quite friendly, treated him with marked condescension. +It was with great difficulty that Olenin managed to find out from +him what was happening. Scouts who had been sent out to search for +abreks had come upon several hillsmen some six miles from the +village. These abreks had taken shelter in pits and had fired at +the scouts, declaring they would not surrender. A corporal who had +been scouting with two Cossacks had remained to watch the abreks, +and had sent one Cossack back to get help. + +The sun was just rising. Three miles beyond the village the steppe +spread out and nothing was visible except the dry, monotonous, +sandy, dismal plain covered with the footmarks of cattle, and here +and there with tufts of withered grass, with low reeds in the +flats, and rare, little-trodden footpaths, and the camps of the +nomad Nogay tribe just visible far away. The absence of shade and +the austere aspect of the place were striking. The sun always +rises and sets red in the steppe. When it is windy whole hills of +sand are carried by the wind from place to place. + +When it is calm, as it was that morning, the silence, +uninterrupted by any movement or sound, is peculiarly striking. +That morning in the steppe it was quiet and dull, though the sun +had already risen. It all seemed specially soft and desolate. The +air was hushed, the footfalls and the snorting of the horses were +the only sounds to be heard, and even they quickly died away. + +The men rode almost silently. A Cossack always carries his weapons +so that they neither jingle nor rattle. Jingling weapons are a +terrible disgrace to a Cossack. Two other Cossacks from the +village caught the party up and exchanged a few words. Lukashka's +horse either stumbled or caught its foot in some grass, and became +restive--which is a sign of bad luck among the Cossacks, and at +such a time was of special importance. The others exchanged +glances and turned away, trying not to notice what had happened. +Lukaskha pulled at the reins, frowned sternly, set his teeth, and +flourished his whip above his head. His good Kabarda horse, +prancing from one foot to another not knowing with which to start, +seemed to wish to fly upwards on wings. But Lukashka hit its well- +-fed sides with his whip once, then again, and a third time, and +the horse, showing its teeth and spreading out its tail, snorted +and reared and stepped on its hind legs a few paces away from the +others. + +'Ah, a good steed that!' said the cornet. + +That he said steed instead of HORSE indicated special praise. + +'A lion of a horse,' assented one of the others, an old Cossack. + +The Cossacks rode forward silently, now at a footpace, then at a +trot, and these changes were the only incidents that interrupted +for a moment the stillness and solemnity of their movements. + +Riding through the steppe for about six miles, they passed nothing +but one Nogay tent, placed on a cart and moving slowly along at a +distance of about a mile from them. A Nogay family was moving from +one part of the steppe to another. Afterwards they met two +tattered Nogay women with high cheekbones, who with baskets on +their backs were gathering dung left by the cattle that wandered +over the steppe. The cornet, who did not know their language well, +tried to question them, but they did not understand him and, +obviously frightened, looked at one another. + +Lukashka rode up to them both, stopped his horse, and promptly +uttered the usual greeting. The Nogay women were evidently +relieved, and began speaking to him quite freely as to a brother. + +'Ay--ay, kop abrek!' they said plaintively, pointing in the +direction in which the Cossacks were going. Olenin understood that +they were saying, 'Many abreks.' + +Never having seen an engagement of that kind, and having formed an +idea of them only from Daddy Eroshka's tales, Olenin wished not to +be left behind by the Cossacks, but wanted to see it all. He +admired the Cossacks, and was on the watch, looking and listening +and making his own observations. Though he had brought his sword +and a loaded gun with him, when he noticed that the Cossacks +avoided him he decided to take no part in the action, as in his +opinion his courage had already been sufficiently proved when he +was with his detachment, and also because he was very happy. + +Suddenly a shot was heard in the distance. + +The cornet became excited, and began giving orders to the Cossacks +as to how they should divide and from which side they should +approach. But the Cossacks did not appear to pay any attention to +these orders, listening only to what Lukashka said and looking to +him alone. Lukashka's face and figure were expressive of calm +solemnity. He put his horse to a trot with which the others were +unable to keep pace, and screwing up his eyes kept looking ahead. + +'There's a man on horseback,' he said, reining in his horse and +keeping in line with the others. + +Olenin looked intently, but could not see anything. The Cossacks +soon distinguished two riders and quietly rode straight towards +them. + +'Are those the ABREKS?' asked Olenin. + +The Cossacks did not answer his question, which appeared quite +meaningless to them. The ABREKS would have been fools to venture +across the river on horseback. + +'That's friend Rodka waving to us, I do believe,' said Lukashka, +pointing to the two mounted men who were now clearly visible. +'Look, he's coming to us.' + +A few minutes later it became plain that the two horsemen were the +Cossack scouts. The corporal rode up to Lukashka. + + + + +Chapter XLI + + +'Are they far?' was all Lukashka said. + +Just then they heard a sharp shot some thirty paces off. The +corporal smiled slightly. + +'Our Gurka is having shots at them,' he said, nodding in the +direction of the shot. + +Having gone a few paces farther they saw Gurka sitting behind a +sand-hillock and loading his gun. To while away the time he was +exchanging shots with the ABREKS, who were behind another sand- +heap. A bullet came whistling from their side. + +The cornet was pale and grew confused. Lukashka dismounted from +his horse, threw the reins to one of the other Cossacks, and went +up to Gurka. Olenin also dismounted and, bending down, followed +Lukashka. They had hardly reached Gurka when two bullets whistled +above them. + +Lukashka looked around laughing at Olenin and stooped a little. + +'Look out or they will kill you, Dmitri Andreich,' he said. 'You'd +better go away--you have no business here.' But Olenin wanted +absolutely to see the ABREKS. + +From behind the mound he saw caps and muskets some two hundred +paces off. Suddenly a little cloud of smoke appeared from thence, +and again a bullet whistled past. The ABREKS were hiding in a +marsh at the foot of the hill. Olenin was much impressed by the +place in which they sat. In reality it was very much like the rest +of the steppe, but because the ABREKS sat there it seemed to +detach itself from all the rest and to have become distinguished. +Indeed it appeared to Olenin that it was the very spot for ABREKS +to occupy. Lukashka went back to his horse and Olenin followed +him. + +'We must get a hay-cart,' said Lukashka, 'or they will be killing +some of us. There behind that mound is a Nogay cart with a load of +hay.' + +The cornet listened to him and the corporal agreed. The cart of +hay was fetched, and the Cossacks, hiding behind it, pushed it +forward. Olenin rode up a hillock from whence he could see +everything. The hay-cart moved on and the Cossacks crowded +together behind it. The Cossacks advanced, but the Chechens, of +whom there were nine, sat with their knees in a row and did not +fire. + +All was quiet. Suddenly from the Chechens arose the sound of a +mournful song, something like Daddy Eroshka's 'Ay day, dalalay.' +The Chechens knew that they could not escape, and to prevent +themselves from being tempted to take to flight they had strapped +themselves together, knee to knee, had got their guns ready, and +were singing their death-song. + +The Cossacks with their hay-cart drew closer and closer, and +Olenin expected the firing to begin at any moment, but the silence +was only broken by the abreks' mournful song. Suddenly the song +ceased; there was a sharp report, a bullet struck the front of the +cart, and Chechen curses and yells broke the silence and shot +followed on shot and one bullet after another struck the cart. The +Cossacks did not fire and were now only five paces distant. + +Another moment passed and the Cossacks with a whoop rushed out on +both sides from behind the cart--Lukashka in front of them. Olenin +heard only a few shots, then shouting and moans. He thought he saw +smoke and blood, and abandoning his horse and quite beside himself +he ran towards the Cossacks. Horror seemed to blind him. He could +not make out anything, but understood that all was over. Lukashka, +pale as death, was holding a wounded Chechen by the arms and +shouting, 'Don't kill him. I'll take him alive!' The Chechen was +the red-haired man who had fetched his brother's body away after +Lukashka had killed him. Lukashka was twisting his arms. Suddenly +the Chechen wrenched himself free and fired his pistol. Lukashka +fell, and blood began to flow from his stomach. He jumped up, but +fell again, swearing in Russian and in Tartar. More and more blood +appeared on his clothes and under him. Some Cossacks approached +him and began loosening his girdle. One of them, Nazarka, before +beginning to help, fumbled for some time, unable to put his sword +in its sheath: it would not go the right way. The blade of the +sword was blood-stained. + +The Chechens with their red hair and clipped moustaches lay dead +and hacked about. Only the one we know of, who had fired at +Lukashka, though wounded in many places was still alive. Like a +wounded hawk all covered with blood (blood was flowing from a +wound under his right eye), pale and gloomy, he looked about him +with wide--open excited eyes and clenched teeth as he crouched, +dagger in hand, still prepared to defend himself. The cornet went +up to him as if intending to pass by, and with a quick movement +shot him in the ear. The Chechen started up, but it was too late, +and he fell. + +The Cossacks, quite out of breath, dragged the bodies aside and +took the weapons from them. Each of the red-haired Chechens had +been a man, and each one had his own individual expression. +Lukashka was carried to the cart. He continued to swear in Russian +and in Tartar. + +'No fear, I'll strangle him with my hands. ANNA SENI!' he cried, +struggling. But he soon became quiet from weakness. + +Olenin rode home. In the evening he was told that Lukashka was at +death's door, but that a Tartar from beyond the river had +undertaken to cure him with herbs. + +The bodies were brought to the village office. The women and the +little boys hastened to look at them. + +It was growing dark when Olenin returned, and he could not collect +himself after what he had seen. But towards night memories of the +evening before came rushing to his mind. He looked out of the +window, Maryanka was passing to and fro from the house to the +cowshed, putting things straight. Her mother had gone to the +vineyard and her father to the office. Olenin could not wait till +she had quite finished her work, but went out to meet her. She was +in the hut standing with her back towards him. Olenin thought she +felt shy. + +'Maryanka,' said he, 'I say, Maryanka! May I come in?' + +She suddenly turned. There was a scarcely perceptible trace of +tears in her eyes and her face was beautiful in its sadness. She +looked at him in silent dignity. + +Olenin again said: + +'Maryanka, I have come--' + +'Leave me alone!' she said. Her face did not change but the tears +ran down her cheeks. + +'What are you crying for? What is it?' + +'What?' she repeated in a rough voice. 'Cossacks have been killed, +that's what for.' + +'Lukashka?' said Olenin. + +'Go away! What do you want?' + +'Maryanka!' said Olenin, approaching her. + +'You will never get anything from me!' + +'Maryanka, don't speak like that,' Olenin entreated. + +'Get away. I'm sick of you!' shouted the girl, stamping her foot, +and moved threateningly towards him. And her face expressed such +abhorrence, such contempt, and such anger that Olenin suddenly +understood that there was no hope for him, and that his first +impression of this woman's inaccessibility had been perfectly +correct. + +Olenin said nothing more, but ran out of the hut. + + + + +Chapter XLII + + +For two hours after returning home he lay on his bed motionless. +Then he went to his company commander and obtained leave to visit +the staff. Without taking leave of anyone, and sending Vanyusha to +settle his accounts with his landlord, he prepared to leave for +the fort where his regiment was stationed. Daddy Eroshka was the +only one to see him off. They had a drink, and then a second, and +then yet another. Again as on the night of his departure from +Moscow, a three-horsed conveyance stood waiting at the door. But +Olenin did not confer with himself as he had done then, and did +not say to himself that all he had thought and done here was 'not +it'. He did not promise himself a new life. He loved Maryanka more +than ever, and knew that he could never be loved by her. + +'Well, good-bye, my lad!' said Daddy Eroshka. 'When you go on an +expedition, be wise and listen to my words--the words of an old +man. When you are out on a raid or the like (you know I'm an old +wolf and have seen things), and when they begin firing, don't get +into a crowd where there are many men. When you fellows get +frightened you always try to get close together with a lot of +others. You think it is merrier to be with others, but that's +where it is worst of all! They always aim at a crowd. Now I used +to keep farther away from the others and went alone, and I've +never been wounded. Yet what things haven't I seen in my day?' + +'But you've got a bullet in your back,' remarked Vanyusha, who was +clearing up the room. + +'That was the Cossacks fooling about,' answered Eroshka. + +'Cossacks? How was that?' asked Olenin. + +'Oh, just so. We were drinking. Vanka Sitkin, one of the Cossacks, +got merry, and puff! he gave me one from his pistol just here.' + +'Yes, and did it hurt?' asked Olenin. 'Vanyusha, will you soon be +ready?' he added. + +'Ah, where's the hurry! Let me tell you. When he banged into me, +the bullet did not break the bone but remained here. And I say: +"You've killed me, brother. Eh! What have you done to me? I won't +let you off! You'll have to stand me a pailful!"' + +'Well, but did it hurt?' Olenin asked again, scarcely listening to +the tale. + +'Let me finish. He stood a pailful, and we drank it, but the blood +went on flowing. The whole room was drenched and covered with +blood. Grandad Burlak, he says, "The lad will give up the ghost. +Stand a bottle of the sweet sort, or we shall have you taken up!" +They bought more drink, and boozed and boozed--' + +'Yes, but did it hurt you much?' Olenin asked once more. + +'Hurt, indeed! Don't interrupt: I don't like it. Let me finish. We +boozed and boozed till morning, and I fell asleep on the top of +the oven, drunk. When I woke in the morning I could not unbend +myself anyhow--' + +'Was it very painful?' repeated Olenin, thinking that now he would +at last get an answer to his question. + +'Did I tell you it was painful? I did not say it was painful, but +I could not bend and could not walk.' + +'And then it healed up?' said Olenin, not even laughing, so heavy +was his heart. + +'It healed up, but the bullet is still there. Just feel it!' And +lifting his shirt he showed his powerful back, where just near the +bone a bullet could be felt and rolled about. + +'Feel how it rolls,' he said, evidently amusing himself with the +bullet as with a toy. 'There now, it has rolled to the back.' + +'And Lukashka, will he recover?' asked Olenin. + +'Heaven only knows! There's no doctor. They've gone for one.' + +'Where will they get one? From Groznoe?' asked Olenin. 'No, my +lad. Were I the Tsar I'd have hung all your Russian doctors long +ago. Cutting is all they know! There's our Cossack Baklashka, no +longer a real man now that they've cut off his leg! That shows +they're fools. What's Baklashka good for now? No, my lad, in the +mountains there are real doctors. There was my chum, Vorchik, he +was on an expedition and was wounded just here in the chest. Well, +your doctors gave him up, but one of theirs came from the +mountains and cured him! They understand herbs, my lad!' + +'Come, stop talking rubbish,' said Olenin. 'I'd better send a +doctor from head-quarters.' + +'Rubbish!' the old man said mockingly. 'Fool, fool! Rubbish. +You'll send a doctor!--If yours cured people, Cossacks and +Chechens would go to you for treatment, but as it is your officers +and colonels send to the mountains for doctors. Yours are all +humbugs, all humbugs.' + +Olenin did not answer. He agreed only too fully that all was +humbug in the world in which he had lived and to which he was now +returning. + +'How is Lukashka? You've been to see him?' he asked. + +'He just lies as if he were dead. He does not eat nor drink. Vodka +is the only thing his soul accepts. But as long as he drinks vodka +it's well. I'd be sorry to lose the lad. A fine lad--a brave, like +me. I too lay dying like that once. The old women were already +wailing. My head was burning. They had already laid me out under +the holy icons. So I lay there, and above me on the oven little +drummers, no bigger than this, beat the tattoo. I shout at them +and they drum all the harder.' (The old man laughed.) 'The women +brought our church elder. They were getting ready to bury me. They +said, "He defiled himself with worldly unbelievers; he made merry +with women; he ruined people; he did not fast, and he played the +balalayka. Confess," they said. So I began to confess. "I've +sinned!" I said. Whatever the priest said, I always answered "I've +sinned." He began to ask me about the balalayka. "Where is the +accursed thing," he says. "Show it me and smash it." But I say, +"I've not got it." I'd hidden it myself in a net in the outhouse. +I knew they could not find it. So they left me. Yet after all I +recovered. When I went for my BALALAYKA--What was I saying?' he +continued. 'Listen to me, and keep farther away from the other men +or you'll get killed foolishly. I feel for you, truly: you are a +drinker--I love you! And fellows like you like riding up the +mounds. There was one who lived here who had come from Russia, he +always would ride up the mounds (he called the mounds so funnily, +"hillocks"). Whenever he saw a mound, off he'd gallop. Once he +galloped off that way and rode to the top quite pleased, but a +Chechen fired at him and killed him! Ah, how well they shoot from +their gun-rests, those Chechens! Some of them shoot even better +than I do. I don't like it when a fellow gets killed so foolishly! +Sometimes I used to look at your soldiers and wonder at them. +There's foolishness for you! They go, the poor fellows, all in a +clump, and even sew red collars to their coats! How can they help +being hit! One gets killed, they drag him away and another takes +his place! What foolishness!' the old man repeated, shaking his +head. 'Why not scatter, and go one by one? So you just go like +that and they won't notice you. That's what you must do.' + +'Well, thank you! Good-bye, Daddy. God willing we may meet again,' +said Olenin, getting up and moving towards the passage. + +The old man, who was sitting on the floor, did not rise. + +'Is that the way one says "Good-bye"? Fool, fool!' he began. 'Oh +dear, what has come to people? We've kept company, kept company +for well-nigh a year, and now "Good-bye!" and off he goes! Why, I +love you, and how I pity you! You are so forlorn, always alone, +always alone. You're somehow so unsociable. At times I can't sleep +for thinking about you. I am so sorry for you. As the song has it: + +"It is very hard, dear brother, In a foreign land to live." + +So it is with you.' + +'Well, good-bye,' said Olenin again. + +The old man rose and held out his hand. Olenin pressed it and +turned to go. + +'Give us your mug, your mug!' + +And the old man took Olenin by the head with both hands and kissed +him three times with wet moustaches and lips, and began to cry. + +'I love you, good-bye!' + +Olenin got into the cart. + +'Well, is that how you're going? You might give me something for a +remembrance. Give me a gun! What do you want two for?' said the +old man, sobbing quite sincerely. + +Olenin got out a musket and gave it to him. + +'What a lot you've given the old fellow,' murmured Vanyusha, +'he'll never have enough! A regular old beggar. They are all such +irregular people,' he remarked, as he wrapped himself in his +overcoat and took his seat on the box. + +'Hold your tongue, swine!' exclaimed the old man, laughing. 'What +a stingy fellow!' + +Maryanka came out of the cowshed, glanced indifferently at the +cart, bowed and went towards the hut. + +'LA FILLE!' said Vanyusha, with a wink, and burst out into a silly +laugh. + +'Drive on!' shouted Olenin, angrily. + +'Good-bye, my lad! Good-bye. I won't forget you!' shouted Eroshka. + +Olenin turned round. Daddy Eroshka was talking to Maryanka, +evidently about his own affairs, and neither the old man nor the +girl looked at Olenin. + + + +The End + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE COSSACKS *** + +This file should be named cossk10.txt or cossk10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, cossk11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, cossk10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: A Letter to a Hindu + +Author: Leo Tolstoy + +Release Date: December, 2004 [EBook #7176] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on March 21, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LETTER TO A HINDU *** + + + + +This eBook was produced by Chetan Jain at BharatLiterature. + + + + + +A LETTER TO A HINDU + + +THE SUBJECTION OF INDIA--ITS CAUSE AND CURE + + +__With an Introduction by__ M. K. GANDHI + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +The letter printed below is a translation of Tolstoy's letter +written in Russian in reply to one from the Editor of Free +Hindustan. After having passed from hand to hand, this letter at +last came into my possession through a friend who asked me, as +one much interested in Tolstoy's writings, whether I thought it +worth publishing. I at once replied in the affirmative, and told +him I should translate it myself into Gujarati and induce others' +to translate and publish it in various Indian vernaculars. + +The letter as received by me was a type-written copy. It was +therefore referred to the author, who confirmed it as his and +kindly granted me permission to print it. + +To me, as a humble follower of that great teacher whom I have +long looked upon as one of my guides, it is a matter of honour to +be connected with the publication of his letter, such especially +as the one which is now being given to the world. + +It is a mere statement of fact to say that every Indian, whether +he owns up to it or not, has national aspirations. But there are +as many opinions as there are Indian nationalists as to the exact +meaning of that aspiration, and more especially as to the methods +to be used to attain the end. + +One of the accepted and 'time-honoured' methods to attain the end +is that of violence. The assassination of Sir Curzon Wylie was +an illustration of that method in its worst and most detestable +form. Tolstoy's life has been devoted to replacing the method of +violence for removing tyranny or securing reform by the method of +non-resistance to evil. He would meet hatred expressed in +violence by love expressed in self-suffering. He admits of no +exception to whittle down this great and divine law of love. He +applies it to all the problems that trouble mankind. + +When a man like Tolstoy, one of the clearest thinkers in the +western world, one of the greatest writers, one who as a soldier +has known what violence is and what it can do, condemns Japan for +having blindly followed the law of modern science, falsely +so-called, and fears for that country 'the greatest calamities', +it is for us to pause and consider whether, in our impatience of +English rule, we do not want to replace one evil by another and a +worse. India, which is the nursery of the great faiths of the +world, will cease to be nationalist India, whatever else she may +become, when she goes through the process of civilization in the +shape of reproduction on that sacred soil of gun factories and +the hateful industrialism which has reduced the people of Europe +to a state of slavery, and all but stifled among them the best +instincts which are the heritage of the human family. + +If we do not want the English in India we must pay the price. +Tolstoy indicates it. 'Do not resist evil, but also do not +yourselves participate in evil--in the violent deeds of the +administration of the law courts, the collection of taxes and, +what is more important, of the soldiers, and no one in the world +will enslave you', passionately declares the sage of Yasnaya +Polyana. Who can question the truth of what he says in the +following: 'A commercial company enslaved a nation comprising two +hundred millions. Tell this to a man free from superstition and +he will fail to grasp what these words mean. What does it mean +that thirty thousand people, not athletes, but rather weak and +ordinary people, have enslaved two hundred millions of vigorous, +clever, capable, freedom-loving people? Do not the figures make +it clear that not the English, but the Indians, have enslaved +themselves?' + +One need not accept all that Tolstoy says--some of his facts are +not accurately stated--to realize the central truth of his +indictment of the present system, which is to understand and act +upon the irresistible power of the soul over the body, of love, +which is an attribute of the soul, over the brute or body force +generated by the stirring in us of evil passions. + +There is no doubt that there is nothing new in what Tolstoy +preaches. But his presentation of the old truth is refreshingly +forceful. His logic is unassailable. And above all he +endeavours to practise what he preaches. He preaches to +convince. He is sincere and in earnest. He commands attention. + +[__19th November, 1909__] M. K. GANDHI + + + + +A LETTER TO A HINDU + + +By LEO TOLSTOY + + + +__All that exists is One. People only call this One by different +names.__ THE VEDAS. + +__God is love, and he that abideth in love abideth in God, and +God abideth in him.__ I JOHN iv. 16. + +__God is one whole; we are the parts.__ EXPOSITION OF THE +TEACHING OF THE VEDAS BY VIVEKANANDA. + + + +I + + +Do not seek quiet and rest in those earthly realms where delusions +and desires are engendered, for if thou dost, thou wilt be dragged +through the rough wilderness of life, which is far from Me. + +Whenever thou feelest that thy feet are becoming entangled in the +interlaced roots of life, know that thou has strayed from the +path to which I beckon thee: for I have placed thee in broad, +smooth paths, which are strewn with flowers. I have put a light +before thee, which thou canst follow and thus run without +stumbling. KRISHNA. + +I have received your letter and two numbers of your periodical, +both of which interest me extremely. The oppression of a +majority by a minority, and the demoralization inevitably +resulting from it, is a phenomenon that has always occupied me +and has done so most particularly of late. I will try to explain +to you what I think about that subject in general, and +particularly about the cause from which the dreadful evils of +which you write in your letter, and in the Hindu periodical you +have sent me, have arisen and continue to arise. + +The reason for the astonishing fact that a majority of working +people submit to a handful of idlers who control their labour and +their very lives is always and everywhere the same--whether the +oppressors and oppressed are of one race or whether, as in India +and elsewhere, the oppressors are of a different nation. + +This phenomenon seems particularly strange in India, for there +more than two hundred million people, highly gifted both +physically and mentally, find themselves in the power of a small +group of people quite alien to them in thought, and immeasurably +inferior to them in religious morality. + +From your letter and the articles in __Free Hindustan__ as well +as from the very interesting writings of the Hindu Swami +Vivekananda and others, it appears that, as is the case in our +time with the ills of all nations, the reason lies in the lack of +a reasonable religious teaching which by explaining the meaning +of life would supply a supreme law for the guidance of conduct +and would replace the more than dubious precepts of pseudo- +religion and pseudo-science with the immoral conclusions deduced +from them and commonly called 'civilization'. + +Your letter, as well as the articles in __Free Hindustan__ and +Indian political literature generally, shows that most of the +leaders of public opinion among your people no longer attach any +significance to the religious teachings that were and are +professed by the peoples of India, and recognize no possibility +of freeing the people from the oppression they endure except by +adopting the irreligious and profoundly immoral social +arrangements under which the English and other pseudo-Christian +nations live to-day. + +And yet the chief if not the sole cause of the enslavement of the +Indian peoples by the English lies in this very absence of a +religious consciousness and of the guidance for conduct which +should flow from it--a lack common in our day to all nations East +and West, from Japan to England and America alike. + + + +II + + +__O ye, who see perplexities over your heads, beneath your feet, +and to the right and left of you; you will be an eternal enigma +unto yourselves until ye become humble and joyful as children. +Then will ye find Me, and having found Me in yourselves, you will +rule over worlds, and looking out from the great world within to +the little world without, you will bless everything that is, and +find all is well with time and with you.__ KRISHNA. + + +To make my thoughts clear to you I must go farther back. We do +not, cannot, and I venture to say need not, know how men lived +millions of years ago or even ten thousand years ago, but we do +know positively that, as far back as we have any knowledge of +mankind, it has always lived in special groups of families, +tribes, and nations in which the majority, in the conviction that +it must be so, submissively and willingly bowed to the rule of +one or more persons--that is to a very small minority. Despite +all varieties of circumstances and personalities these relations +manifested themselves among the various peoples of whose origin +we have any knowledge; and the farther back we go the more +absolutely necessary did this arrangement appear, both to the +rulers and the ruled, to make it possible for people to live +peacefully together. + +So it was everywhere. But though this external form of life +existed for centuries and still exists, very early--thousands of +years before our time--amid this life based on coercion, one and +the same thought constantly emerged among different nations, +namely, that in every individual a spiritual element is +manifested that gives life to all that exists, and that this +spiritual element strives to unite with everything of a like +nature to itself, and attains this aim through love. This +thought appeared in most various forms at different times and +places, with varying completeness and clarity. It found +expression in Brahmanism, Judaism, Mazdaism (the teachings of +Zoroaster), in Buddhism, Taoism, Confucianism, and in the +writings of the Greek and Roman sages, as well as in Christianity +and Mohammedanism. The mere fact that this thought has sprung up +among different nations and at different times indicates that it +is inherent in human nature and contains the truth. But this +truth was made known to people who considered that a community +could only be kept together if some of them restrained others, +and so it appeared quite irreconcilable with the existing order +of society. Moreover it was at first expressed only +fragmentarily, and so obscurely that though people admitted its +theoretic truth they could not entirely accept it as guidance for +their conduct. Then, too, the dissemination of the truth in a +society based on coercion was always hindered in one and the same +manner, namely, those in power, feeling that the recognition of +this truth would undermine their position, consciously or +sometimes unconsciously perverted it by explanations and +additions quite foreign to it, and also opposed it by open +violence. Thus the truth--that his life should be directed by +the spiritual element which is its basis, which manifests itself +as love, and which is so natural to man--this truth, in order to +force a way to man's consciousness, had to struggle not merely +against the obscurity with which it was expressed and the +intentional and unintentional distortions surrounding it, but +also against deliberate violence, which by means of persecutions +and punishments sought to compel men to accept religious laws +authorized by the rulers and conflicting with the truth. Such a +hindrance and misrepresentation of the truth--which had not yet +achieved complete clarity--occurred everywhere: in Confucianism +and Taoism, in Buddhism and in Christianity, in Mohammedanism and +in your Brahmanism. + + + +III + + +__My hand has sowed love everywhere, giving unto all that will +receive. Blessings are offered unto all My children, but many +times in their blindness they fail to see them. How few there +are who gather the gifts which lie in profusion at their feet: +how many there are, who, in wilful waywardness, turn their eyes +away from them and complain with a wail that they have not that +which I have given them; many of them defiantly repudiate not +only My gifts, but Me also, Me, the Source of all blessings and +the Author of their being.__ KRISHNA. + +__I tarry awhile from the turmoil and strife of the world. I +will beautify and quicken thy life with love and with joy, for +the light of the soul is Love. Where Love is, there is +contentment and peace, and where there is contentment and peace, +there am I, also, in their midst.__ KRISHNA. + +__The aim of the sinless One consists in acting without causing +sorrow to others, although he could attain to great power by +ignoring their feelings.__ + +__The aim of the sinless One lies in not doing evil unto those +who have done evil unto him.__ + +__If a man causes suffering even to those who hate him without +any reason, he will ultimately have grief not to be overcome.__ + +__The punishment of evil doers consists in making them feel +ashamed of themselves by doing them a great kindness.__ + +__Of what use is superior knowledge in the one, if he does not +endeavour to relieve his neighbour's want as much as his own?__ + +__If, in the morning, a man wishes to do evil unto another, in +the evening the evil will return to him.__ + +THE HINDU KURAL. + + +Thus it went on everywhere. The recognition that love represents +the highest morality was nowhere denied or contradicted, but this +truth was so interwoven everywhere with all kinds of falsehoods +which distorted it, that finally nothing of it remained but +words. It was taught that this highest morality was only +applicable to private life--for home use, as it were--but that in +public life all forms of violence--such as imprisonment, +executions, and wars--might be used for the protection of the +majority against a minority of evildoers, though such means were +diametrically opposed to any vestige of love. And though common +sense indicated that if some men claim to decide who is to be +subjected to violence of all kinds for the benefit of others, +these men to whom violence is applied may, in turn, arrive at a +similar conclusion with regard to those who have employed +violence to them, and though the great religious teachers of +Brahmanism, Buddhism, and above all of Christianity, foreseeing +such a perversion of the law of love, have constantly drawn +attention to the one invariable condition of love (namely, the +enduring of injuries, insults, and violence of all kinds without +resisting evil by evil) people continued--regardless of all that +leads man forward--to try to unite the incompatibles: the virtue +of love, and what is opposed to love, namely, the restraining of +evil by violence. And such a teaching, despite its inner +contradiction, was so firmly established that the very people who +recognize love as a virtue accept as lawful at the same time an +order of life based on violence and allowing men not merely to +torture but even to kill one another. + +For a long time people lived in this obvious contradiction +without noticing it. But a time arrived when this contradiction +became more and more evident to thinkers of various nations. And +the old and simple truth that it is natural for men to help and +to love one another, but not to torture and to kill one another, +became ever clearer, so that fewer and fewer people were able to +believe the sophistries by which the distortion of the truth had +been made so plausible. + +In former times the chief method of justifying the use of +violence and thereby infringing the law of love was by claiming a +divine right for the rulers: the Tsars, Sultans, Rajahs, Shahs, +and other heads of states. But the longer humanity lived the +weaker grew the belief in this peculiar, God--given right of the +ruler. That belief withered in the same way and almost +simultaneously in the Christian and the Brahman world, as well as +in Buddhist and Confucian spheres, and in recent times it has so +faded away as to prevail no longer against man's reasonable +understanding and the true religious feeling. People saw more +and more clearly, and now the majority see quite clearly, the +senselessness and immorality of subordinating their wills to +those of other people just like themselves, when they are bidden +to do what is contrary not only to their interests but also to +their moral sense. And so one might suppose that having lost +confidence in any religious authority for a belief in the +divinity of potentates of various kinds, people would try to free +themselves from subjection to it. But unfortunately not only +were the rulers, who were considered supernatural beings, +benefited by having the peoples in subjection, but as a result of +the belief in, and during the rule of, these pseudodivine beings, +ever larger and larger circles of people grouped and established +themselves around them, and under an appearance of governing took +advantage of the people. And when the old deception of a +supernatural and God-appointed authority had dwindled away these +men were only concerned to devise a new one which like its +predecessor should make it possible to hold the people in bondage +to a limited number of rulers. + + + +IV + + +__Children, do you want to know by what your hearts should be +guided? Throw aside your longings and strivings after that which +is null and void; get rid of your erroneous thoughts about +happiness and wisdom, and your empty and insincere desires. +Dispense with these and you will know Love.__ KRISHNA. + +__Be not the destroyers of yourselves. Arise to your true Being, +and then you will have nothing to fear.__ KRISHNA. + + +New justifications have now appeared in place of the antiquated, +obsolete, religious ones. These new justifications are just as +inadequate as the old ones, but as they are new their futility +cannot immediately be recognized by the majority of men. Besides +this, those who enjoy power propagate these new sophistries and +support them so skilfully that they seem irrefutable even to many +of those who suffer from the oppression these theories seek to +justify. These new justifications are termed 'scientific'. But +by the term 'scientific' is understood just what was formerly +understood by the term 'religious': just as formerly everything +called 'religious' was held to be unquestionable simply because +it was called religious, so now all that is called 'scientific' +is held to be unquestionable. In the present case the obsolete +religious justification of violence which consisted in the +recognition of the supernatural personality of the God-ordained +ruler ('there is no power but of God') has been superseded by the +'scientific' justification which puts forward, first, the +assertion that because the coercion of man by man has existed in +all ages, it follows that such coercion must continue to exist. +This assertion that people should continue to live as they have +done throughout past ages rather than as their reason and +conscience indicate, is what 'science' calls 'the historic law'. +A further 'scientific' justification lies in the statement that +as among plants and wild beasts there is a constant struggle for +existence which always results in the survival of the fittest, a +similar struggle should be carried on among human beings--beings, +that is, who are gifted with intelligence and love; faculties +lacking in the creatures subject to the struggle for existence +and survival of the fittest. Such is the second 'scientific' +justification. + +The third, most important, and unfortunately most widespread +justification is, at bottom, the age-old religious one just a +little altered: that in public life the suppression of some for +the protection of the majority cannot be avoided--so that coercion +is unavoidable however desirable reliance on love alone might be +in human intercourse. The only difference in this justification +by pseudo-science consists in the fact that, to the question why +such and such people and not others have the right to decide +against whom violence may and must be used, pseudo-science now +gives a different reply to that given by religion--which declared +that the right to decide was valid because it was pronounced by +persons possessed of divine power. 'Science' says that these +decisions represent the will of the people, which under a +constitutional form of government is supposed to find expression +in all the decisions and actions of those who are at the helm at +the moment. + +Such are the scientific justifications of the principle of +coercion. They are not merely weak but absolutely invalid, yet +they are so much needed by those who occupy privileged positions +that they believe in them as blindly as they formerly believed in +the immaculate conception, and propagate them just as +confidently. And the unfortunate majority of men bound to toil +is so dazzled by the pomp with which these 'scientific truths' +are presented, that under this new influence it accepts these +scientific stupidities for holy truth, just as it formerly +accepted the pseudo-religious justifications; and it continues to +submit to the present holders of power who are just as +hard-hearted but rather more numerous than before. + + + +V + + +__Who am I? I am that which thou hast searched for since thy baby +eyes gazed wonderingly upon the world, whose horizon hides this +real life from thee. I am that which in thy heart thou hast +prayed for, demanded as thy birthright, although thou hast not +known what it was. I am that which has lain in thy soul for +hundreds and thousands of years. Sometimes I lay in thee +grieving because thou didst not recognize me; sometimes I raised +my head, opened my eyes, and extended my arms calling thee either +tenderly and quietly, or strenuously, demanding that thou shouldst +rebel against the iron chains which bound thee to the earth.__ + +KRISHNA. + + +So matters went on, and still go on, in the Christian world. But +we might have hope that in the immense Brahman, Buddhist, and +Confucian worlds this new scientific superstition would not +establish itself, and that the Chinese, Japanese, and Hindus, +once their eyes were opened to the religious fraud justifying +violence, would advance directly to a recognition of the law of +love inherent in humanity, and which had been so forcibly +enunciated by the great Eastern teachers. But what has happened +is that the scientific superstition replacing the religious one +has been accepted and secured a stronger and stronger hold in the +East. + +In your periodical you set out as the basic principle which +should guide the actions of your people the maxim that: +'Resistance to aggression is not simply justifiable but +imperative, nonresistance hurts both Altruism and Egotism.' + +Love is the only way to rescue humanity from all ills, and in it +you too have the only method of saving your people from +enslavement. In very ancient times love was proclaimed with +special strength and clearness among your people to be the +religious basis of human life. Love, and forcible resistance to +evil-doers, involve such a mutual contradiction as to destroy +utterly the whole sense and meaning of the conception of love. +And what follows? With a light heart and in the twentieth century +you, an adherent of a religious people, deny their law, feeling +convinced of your scientific enlightenment and your right to do +so, and you repeat (do not take this amiss) the amazing stupidity +indoctrinated in you by the advocates of the use of violence--the +enemies of truth, the servants first of theology and then of +science--your European teachers. + +You say that the English have enslaved your people and hold them +in subjection because the latter have not resisted resolutely +enough and have not met force by force. + +But the case is just the opposite. If the English have enslaved +the people of India it is just because the latter recognized, and +still recognize, force as the fundamental principle of the social +order. In accord with that principle they submitted to their +little rajahs, and on their behalf struggled against one another, +fought the Europeans, the English, and are now trying to fight +with them again. + +A commercial company enslaved a nation comprising two hundred +millions. Tell this to a man free from superstition and he will +fail to grasp what these words mean. What does it mean that +thirty thousand men, not athletes but rather weak and ordinary +people, have subdued two hundred million vigorous, clever, +capable, and freedom-loving people? Do not the figures make it +clear that it is not the English who have enslaved the Indians, +but the Indians who have enslaved themselves? + +When the Indians complain that the English have enslaved them it +is as if drunkards complained that the spirit-dealers who have +settled among them have enslaved them. You tell them that they +might give up drinking, but they reply that they are so +accustomed to it that they cannot abstain, and that they must +have alcohol to keep up their energy. Is it not the same thing +with the millions of people who submit to thousands' or even to +hundreds, of others--of their own or other nations? + +If the people of India are enslaved by violence it is only +because they themselves live and have lived by violence, and do +not recognize the eternal law of love inherent in humanity. + +__Pitiful and foolish is the man who seeks what he already has, +and does not know that he has it. Yes, Pitiful and foolish is he +who does not know the bliss of love which surrounds him and which +I have given him.__ KRISHNA. + + +As soon as men live entirely in accord with the law of love +natural to their hearts and now revealed to them, which excludes +all resistance by violence, and therefore hold aloof from all +participation in violence--as soon as this happens, not only will +hundreds be unable to enslave millions, but not even millions +will be able to enslave a single individual. Do not resist the +evil-doer and take no part in doing so, either in the violent +deeds of the administration, in the law courts, the collection of +taxes, or above all in soldiering, and no one in the world will +be able to enslave you. + + + +VI + + +__O ye who sit in bondage and continually seek and pant for +freedom, seek only for love. Love is peace in itself and peace +which gives complete satisfaction. I am the key that opens the +portal to the rarely discovered land where contentment alone is +found.__ KRISHNA. + +What is now happening to the people of the East as of the West is +like what happens to every individual when he passes from +childhood to adolescence and from youth to manhood. He loses +what had hitherto guided his life and lives without direction, +not having found a new standard suitable to his age, and so he +invents all sorts of occupations, cares, distractions, and +stupefactions to divert his attention from the misery and +senselessness of his life. Such a condition may last a long +time. + +When an individual passes from one period of life to another a +time comes when he cannot go on in senseless activity and +excitement as before, but has to understand that although he has +outgrown what before used to direct him, this does not mean that +he must live without any reasonable guidance, but rather that he +must formulate for himself an understanding of life corresponding +to his age, and having elucidated it must be guided by it. And +in the same way a similar time must come in the growth and +development of humanity. I believe that such a time has now +arrived--not in the sense that it has come in the year 1908, but +that the inherent contradiction of human life has now reached an +extreme degree of tension: on the one side there is the +consciousness of the beneficence of the law of love, and on the +other the existing order of life which has for centuries +occasioned an empty, anxious, restless, and troubled mode of +life, conflicting as it does with the law of love and built on +the use of violence. This contradiction must be faced, and the +solution will evidently not be favourable to the outlived law of +violence, but to the truth which has dwelt in the hearts of men +from remote antiquity: the truth that the law of love is in +accord with the nature of man. + +But men can only recognize this truth to its full extent when +they have completely freed themselves from all religious and +scientific superstitions and from all the consequent +misrepresentations and sophistical distortions by which its +recognition has been hindered for centuries. + +To save a sinking ship it is necessary to throw overboard the +ballast, which though it may once have been needed would now +cause the ship to sink. And so it is with the scientific +superstition which hides the truth of their welfare from mankind. +In order that men should embrace the truth--not in the vague way +they did in childhood, nor in the one-sided and perverted way +presented to them by their religious and scientific teachers, but +embrace it as their highest law--the complete liberation of this +truth from all and every superstition (both pseudo-religious and +pseudo-scientific) by which it is still obscured is essential: +not a partial, timid attempt, reckoning with traditions +sanctified by age and with the habits of the people--not such as +was effected in the religious sphere by Guru-Nanak, the founder +of the sect of the Sikhs, and in the Christian world by Luther, +and by similar reformers in other religions--but a fundamental +cleansing of religious consciousness from all ancient religious +and modern scientific superstitions. + +If only people freed themselves from their beliefs in all kinds +of Ormuzds, Brahmas, Sabbaoths, and their incarnation as Krishnas +and Christs, from beliefs in Paradises and Hells, in +reincarnations and resurrections, from belief in the interference +of the Gods in the external affairs of the universe, and above +all, if they freed themselves from belief in the infallibility of +all the various Vedas, Bibles, Gospels, Tripitakas, Korans, and +the like, and also freed themselves from blind belief in a +variety of scientific teachings about infinitely small atoms and +molecules and in all the infinitely great and infinitely remote +worlds, their movements and origin, as well as from faith in the +infallibility of the scientific law to which humanity is at +present subjected: the historic law, the economic laws, the law +of struggle and survival, and so on--if people only freed +themselves from this terrible accumulation of futile exercises of +our lower capacities of mind and memory called the 'Sciences', +and from the innumerable divisions of all sorts of histories, +anthropologies, homiletics, bacteriologics, jurisprudences, +cosmographies, strategies--their name is legion--and freed +themselves from all this harmful, stupifying ballast--the simple +law of love, natural to man, accessible to all and solving all +questions and perplexities, would of itself become clear and +obligatory. + + + +VII + + +__Children, look at the flowers at your feet; do not trample upon +them. Look at the love in your midst and do not repudiate it.__ +KRISHNA. + +__There is a higher reason which transcends all human minds. It +is far and near. It permeates all the worlds and at the same +time is infinitely higher than they.__ + +__A man who sees that all things are contained in the higher +spirit cannot treat any being with contempt.__ + +__For him to whom all spiritual beings are equal to the highest +there can be no room for deception or grief.__ + +__Those who are ignorant and are devoted to the religious rites +only, are in a deep gloom, but those who are given up to +fruitless meditations are in a still greater darkness.__ + +UPANISHADS, FROM VEDAS. + + +Yes, in our time all these things must be cleared away in order +that mankind may escape from self-inflicted calamities that have +reached an extreme intensity. Whether an Indian seeks liberation +from subjection to the English, or anyone else struggles with an +oppressor either of his own nationality or of another--whether it +be a Negro defending himself against the North Americans; or +Persians, Russians, or Turks against the Persian, Russian, or +Turkish governments, or any man seeking the greatest welfare for +himself and for everybody else--they do not need explanations and +justifications of old religious superstitions such as have been +formulated by your Vivekanandas, Baba Bharatis, and others, or in +the Christian world by a number of similar interpreters and +exponents of things that nobody needs; nor the innumerable +scientific theories about matters not only unnecessary but for +the most part harmful. (In the spiritual realm nothing is +indifferent: what is not useful is harmful.) What are wanted for +the Indian as for the Englishman, the Frenchman, the German, and +the Russian, are not Constitutions and Revolutions, nor all sorts +of Conferences and Congresses, nor the many ingenious devices for +submarine navigation and aerial navigation, nor powerful +explosives, nor all sorts of conveniences to add to the enjoyment +of the rich, ruling classes; nor new schools and universities +with innumerable faculties of science, nor an augmentation of +papers and books, nor gramophones and cinematographs, nor those +childish and for the most part corrupt stupidities termed art--but +one thing only is needful: the knowledge of the simple and clear +truth which finds place in every soul that is not stupefied by +religious and scientific superstitions--the truth that for our +life one law is valid--the law of love, which brings the highest +happiness to every individual as well as to all mankind. Free +your minds from those overgrown, mountainous imbecilities which +hinder your recognition of it, and at once the truth will emerge +from amid the pseudo-religious nonsense that has been smothering +it: the indubitable, eternal truth inherent in man, which is one +and the same in all the great religions of the world. It will in +due time emerge and make its way to general recognition, and the +nonsense that has obscured it will disappear of itself, and with +it will go the evil from which humanity now suffers. + +__Children, look upwards with your beclouded eyes, and a world +full of joy and love will disclose itself to you, a rational +world made by My wisdom, the only real world. Then you will know +what love has done with you, what love has bestowed upon you, +what love demands from you.__ KRISHNA. + + +YASNAYA POLYANA. + +December 14th, 1908. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Letter to a Hindu, by Leo Tolstoy + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LETTER TO A HINDU *** + +This file should be named hindu10.txt or hindu10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, hindu11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, hindu10a.txt + +This eBook was produced by Chetan Jain at BharatLiterature. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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LOUISE MAUDE + + + +[Transcriber's Note: The following paragraph is on a page of its +own, in cursive writing, apparently in Tolstoy's own hand.] + + This English version + of "Resurrection" is pub- + lished by Dodd, Mead and + Company by my authority. + Leo Tolstoy + + + + + + +TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE + +Opinions about Tolstoy and his work differ, but on one point +there surely might be unanimity. A writer of world-wide +reputation should be at least allowed to know how to spell his +own name. Why should any one insist on spelling it "Tolstoi" +(with one, two or three dots over the "i"), when he himself +writes it "Tolstoy"? The only reason I have ever heard suggested +is, that in England and America such outlandish views are +attributed to him, that an outlandish spelling is desirable to +match those views. + +This novel, written in the rough by Tolstoy some years ago and +founded upon an actual occurrence, was completely rewritten by +him during the last year and a half, and all the proceeds have +been devoted by him to aiding the Doukhobors, a sect who were +persecuted in the Caucasus (especially from 1895 to 1898) for +refusing to learn war. About seven thousand three hundred of them +are settled in Canada, and about a hundred of the leaders are +exiled to the remote parts of Siberia. + +Anything I may receive for my work in translating the book will +go to the same cause. "Prevention is better than cure," and I +would rather help people to abstain from killing and wounding +each other than devote the money to patch up their wounds after +the battle. + +LOUISE MAUDE + + + + +RESURRECTION + + +CHAPTER I. + +MASLOVA IN PRISON. + +Though hundreds of thousands had done their very best to +disfigure the small piece of land on which they were crowded +together, by paving the ground with stones, scraping away every +vestige of vegetation, cutting down the trees, turning away birds +and beasts, and filling the air with the smoke of naphtha and +coal, still spring was spring, even in the town. + +The sun shone warm, the air was balmy; everywhere, where it did +not get scraped away, the grass revived and sprang up between the +paving-stones as well as on the narrow strips of lawn on the +boulevards. The birches, the poplars, and the wild cherry +unfolded their gummy and fragrant leaves, the limes were +expanding their opening buds; crows, sparrows, and pigeons, +filled with the joy of spring, were getting their nests ready; +the flies were buzzing along the walls, warmed by the sunshine. +All were glad, the plants, the birds, the insects, and the +children. But men, grown-up men and women, did not leave off +cheating and tormenting themselves and each other. It was not +this spring morning men thought sacred and worthy of +consideration not the beauty of God's world, given for a joy to +all creatures, this beauty which inclines the heart to peace, to +harmony, and to love, but only their own devices for enslaving +one another. + +Thus, in the prison office of the Government town, it was not the +fact that men and animals had received the grace and gladness of +spring that was considered sacred and important, but that a +notice, numbered and with a superscription, had come the day +before, ordering that on this 28th day of April, at 9 a.m., three +prisoners at present detained in the prison, a man and two women +(one of these women, as the chief criminal, to be conducted +separately), had to appear at Court. So now, on the 28th of +April, at 8 o'clock, a jailer and soon after him a woman warder +with curly grey hair, dressed in a jacket with sleeves trimmed +with gold, with a blue-edged belt round her waist, and having a +look of suffering on her face, came into the corridor. + +"You want Maslova?" she asked, coming up to the cell with the +jailer who was on duty. + +The jailer, rattling the iron padlock, opened the door of the +cell, from which there came a whiff of air fouler even than that +in the corridor, and called out, "Maslova! to the Court," and +closed the door again. + +Even into the prison yard the breeze had brought the fresh +vivifying air from the fields. But in the corridor the air was +laden with the germs of typhoid, the smell of sewage, +putrefaction, and tar; every newcomer felt sad and dejected in +it. The woman warder felt this, though she was used to bad air. +She had just come in from outside, and entering the corridor, she +at once became sleepy. + +From inside the cell came the sound of bustle and women's voices, +and the patter of bare feet on the floor. + +"Now, then, hurry up, Maslova, I say!" called out the jailer, and +in a minute or two a small young woman with a very full bust came +briskly out of the door and went up to the jailer. She had on a +grey cloak over a white jacket and petticoat. On her feet she +wore linen stockings and prison shoes, and round her head was +tied a white kerchief, from under which a few locks of black hair +were brushed over the forehead with evident intent. The face of +the woman was of that whiteness peculiar to people who have lived +long in confinement, and which puts one in mind of shoots of +potatoes that spring up in a cellar. Her small broad hands and +full neck, which showed from under the broad collar of her cloak, +were of the same hue. Her black, sparkling eyes, one with a +slight squint, appeared in striking contrast to the dull pallor +of her face. + +She carried herself very straight, expanding her full bosom. + +With her head slightly thrown back, she stood in the corridor, +looking straight into the eyes of the jailer, ready to comply +with any order. + +The jailer was about to lock the door when a wrinkled and +severe-looking old woman put out her grey head and began speaking +to Maslova. But the jailer closed the door, pushing the old +woman's head with it. A woman's laughter was heard from the cell, +and Maslova smiled, turning to the little grated opening in the +cell door. The old woman pressed her face to the grating from the +other side, and said, in a hoarse voice: + +"Now mind, and when they begin questioning you, just repeat over +the same thing, and stick to it; tell nothing that is not +wanted." + +"Well, it could not be worse than it is now, anyhow; I only wish +it was settled one way or another." + +"Of course, it will be settled one way or another," said the +jailer, with a superior's self-assured witticism. "Now, then, get +along! Take your places!" + +The old woman's eyes vanished from the grating, and Maslova +stepped out into the middle of the corridor. The warder in front, +they descended the stone stairs, past the still fouler, noisy +cells of the men's ward, where they were followed by eyes looking +out of every one of the gratings in the doors, and entered the +office, where two soldiers were waiting to escort her. A clerk +who was sitting there gave one of the soldiers a paper reeking of +tobacco, and pointing to the prisoner, remarked, "Take her." + +The soldier, a peasant from Nijni Novgorod, with a red, +pock-marked face, put the paper into the sleeve of his coat, +winked to his companion, a broad-shouldered Tchouvash, and then +the prisoner and the soldiers went to the front entrance, out of +the prison yard, and through the town up the middle of the +roughly-paved street. + +Isvostchiks [cabmen], tradespeople, cooks, workmen, +and government clerks, stopped and looked curiously at the +prisoner; some shook their heads and thought, "This is what evil +conduct, conduct unlike ours, leads to." The children stopped and +gazed at the robber with frightened looks; but the thought that +the soldiers were preventing her from doing more harm quieted +their fears. A peasant, who had sold his charcoal, and had had +some tea in the town, came up, and, after crossing himself, gave +her a copeck. The prisoner blushed and muttered something; she +noticed that she was attracting everybody's attention, and that +pleased her. The comparatively fresh air also gladdened her, but +it was painful to step on the rough stones with the ill-made +prison shoes on her feet, which had become unused to walking. +Passing by a corn-dealer's shop, in front of which a few pigeons +were strutting about, unmolested by any one, the prisoner almost +touched a grey-blue bird with her foot; it fluttered up and flew +close to her ear, fanning her with its wings. She smiled, then +sighed deeply as she remembered her present position. + + + +CHAPTER II. + +MASLOVA'S EARLY LIFE. + +The story of the prisoner Maslova's life was a very common one. + +Maslova's mother was the unmarried daughter of a village woman, +employed on a dairy farm, which belonged to two maiden ladies who +were landowners. This unmarried woman had a baby every year, and, +as often happens among the village people, each one of these +undesired babies, after it had been carefully baptised, was +neglected by its mother, whom it hindered at her work, and left +to starve. Five children had died in this way. They had all been +baptised and then not sufficiently fed, and just left to die. +The sixth baby, whose father was a gipsy tramp, would have shared +the same fate, had it not so happened that one of the maiden +ladies came into the farmyard to scold the dairymaids for sending +up cream that smelt of the cow. The young woman was lying in the +cowshed with a fine, healthy, new-born baby. The old maiden lady +scolded the maids again for allowing the woman (who had just been +confined) to lie in the cowshed, and was about to go away, but +seeing the baby her heart was touched, and she offered to stand +godmother to the little girl, and pity for her little +god-daughter induced her to give milk and a little money to the +mother, so that she should feed the baby; and the little girl +lived. The old ladies spoke of her as "the saved one." When the +child was three years old, her mother fell ill and died, and the +maiden ladies took the child from her old grandmother, to whom +she was nothing but a burden. + +The little black-eyed maiden grew to be extremely pretty, and so +full of spirits that the ladies found her very entertaining. + +The younger of the ladies, Sophia Ivanovna, who had stood +godmother to the girl, had the kinder heart of the two sisters; +Maria Ivanovna, the elder, was rather hard. Sophia Ivanovna +dressed the little girl in nice clothes, and taught her to read +and write, meaning to educate her like a lady. Maria Ivanovna +thought the child should be brought up to work, and trained her +to be a good servant. She was exacting; she punished, and, when +in a bad temper, even struck the little girl. Growing up under +these two different influences, the girl turned out half servant, +half young lady. They called her Katusha, which sounds less +refined than Katinka, but is not quite so common as Katka. She +used to sew, tidy up the rooms, polish the metal cases of the +icons and do other light work, and sometimes she sat and read to +the ladies. + +Though she had more than one offer, she would not marry. She felt +that life as the wife of any of the working men who were courting +her would be too hard; spoilt as she was by a life of case. + +She lived in this manner till she was sixteen, when the nephew of +the old ladies, a rich young prince, and a university student, +came to stay with his aunts, and Katusha, not daring to +acknowledge it even to herself, fell in love with him. + +Then two years later this same nephew stayed four days with his +aunts before proceeding to join his regiment, and the night +before he left he betrayed Katusha, and, after giving her a +100-rouble note, went away. Five months later she knew for +certain that she was to be a mother. After that everything seemed +repugnant to her, her only thought being how to escape from the +shame that awaited her. She began not only to serve the ladies in +a half-hearted and negligent way, but once, without knowing how +it happened, was very rude to them, and gave them notice, a thing +she repented of later, and the ladies let her go, noticing +something wrong and very dissatisfied with her. Then she got a +housemaid's place in a police-officer's house, but stayed there +only three months, for the police officer, a man of fifty, began +to torment her, and once, when he was in a specially enterprising +mood, she fired up, called him "a fool and old devil," and gave +him such a knock in the chest that he fell. She was turned out +for her rudeness. It was useless to look for another situation, +for the time of her confinement was drawing near, so she went to +the house of a village midwife, who also sold wine. The +confinement was easy; but the midwife, who had a case of fever in +the village, infected Katusha, and her baby boy had to be sent to +the foundlings' hospital, where, according to the words of the +old woman who took him there, he at once died. When Katusha went +to the midwife she had 127 roubles in all, 27 which she had +earned and 100 given her by her betrayer. When she left she had +but six roubles; she did not know how to keep money, but spent it +on herself, and gave to all who asked. The midwife took 40 +roubles for two months' board and attendance, 25 went to get the +baby into the foundlings' hospital, and 40 the midwife borrowed +to buy a cow with. Twenty roubles went just for clothes and +dainties. Having nothing left to live on, Katusha had to look out +for a place again, and found one in the house of a forester. The +forester was a married man, but he, too, began to annoy her from +the first day. He disgusted her, and she tried to avoid him. But +he, more experienced and cunning, besides being her master, who +could send her wherever he liked, managed to accomplish his +object. His wife found it out, and, catching Katusha and her +husband in a room all by themselves, began beating her. Katusha +defended herself, and they had a fight, and Katusha got turned +out of the house without being paid her wages. + +Then Katusha went to live with her aunt in town. The aunt's +husband, a bookbinder, had once been comfortably off, but had +lost all his customers, and had taken to drink, and spent all he +could lay hands on at the public-house. The aunt kept a little +laundry, and managed to support herself, her children, and her +wretched husband. She offered Katusha the place of an assistant +laundress; but seeing what a life of misery and hardship her +aunt's assistants led, Katusha hesitated, and applied to a +registry office for a place. One was found for her with a lady +who lived with her two sons, pupils at a public day school. A +week after Katusha had entered the house the elder, a big fellow +with moustaches, threw up his studies and made love to her, +continually following her about. His mother laid all the blame on +Katusha, and gave her notice. + +It so happened that, after many fruitless attempts to find a +situation, Katusha again went to the registry office, and there +met a woman with bracelets on her bare, plump arms and rings on +most of her fingers. Hearing that Katusha was badly in want of a +place, the woman gave her her address, and invited her to come to +her house. Katusha went. The woman received her very kindly, set +cake and sweet wine before her, then wrote a note and gave it to +a servant to take to somebody. In the evening a tall man, with +long, grey hair and a white beard, entered the room, and sat down +at once near Katusha, smiling and gazing at her with glistening +eyes. He began joking with her. The hostess called him away into +the next room, and Katusha heard her say, "A fresh one from the +country," Then the hostess called Katusha aside and told her that +the man was an author, and that he had a great deal of money, and +that if he liked her he would not grudge her anything. He did +like her, and gave her 25 roubles, promising to see her often. +The 25 roubles soon went; some she paid to her aunt for board and +lodging; the rest was spent on a hat, ribbons, and such like. A +few days later the author sent for her, and she went. He gave her +another 25 roubles, and offered her a separate lodging. + +Next door to the lodging rented for her by the author there lived +a jolly young shopman, with whom Katusha soon fell in love. She +told the author, and moved to a little lodging of her own. The +shopman, who promised to marry her, went to Nijni on business +without mentioning it to her, having evidently thrown her up, and +Katusha remained alone. She meant to continue living in the +lodging by herself, but was informed by the police that in this +case she would have to get a license. She returned to her aunt. +Seeing her fine dress, her hat, and mantle, her aunt no longer +offered her laundry work. As she understood things, her niece had +risen above that sort of thing. The question as to whether she +was to become a laundress or not did not occur to Katusha, +either. She looked with pity at the thin, hard-worked +laundresses, some already in consumption, who stood washing or +ironing with their thin arms in the fearfully hot front room, +which was always full of soapy steam and draughts from the +windows, and thought with horror that she might have shared the +same fate. + +Katusha had begun to smoke some time before, and since the young +shopman had thrown her up she was getting more and more into the +habit of drinking. It was not so much the flavour of wine that +tempted her as the fact that it gave her a chance of forgetting +the misery she suffered, making her feel more unrestrained and +more confident of her own worth, which she was not when quite +sober; without wine she felt sad and ashamed. Just at this time a +woman came along who offered to place her in one of the largest +establishments in the city, explaining all the advantages and +benefits of the situation. Katusha had the choice before her of +either going into service or accepting this offer--and she chose +the latter. Besides, it seemed to her as though, in this way, she +could revenge herself on her betrayer and the shopman and all +those who had injured her. One of the things that tempted her, +and was the cause of her decision, was the woman telling her she +might order her own dresses--velvet, silk, satin, low-necked ball +dresses, anything she liked. A mental picture of herself in a +bright yellow silk trimmed with black velvet with low neck and +short sleeves conquered her, and she gave up her passport. On the +same evening the procuress took an isvostchik and drove her to +the notorious house kept by Carolina Albertovna Kitaeva. + +From that day a life of chronic sin against human and divine laws +commenced for Katusha Maslova, a life which is led by hundreds of +thousands of women, and which is not merely tolerated but +sanctioned by the Government, anxious for the welfare of its +subjects; a life which for nine women out of ten ends in painful +disease, premature decrepitude, and death. + +Katusha Maslova lived this life for seven years. During these +years she twice changed houses, and had once been to the +hospital. In the seventh year of this life, when she was +twenty-six years old, happened that for which she was put in +prison and for which she was now being taken to be tried, after +more than three months of confinement with thieves and murderers +in the stifling air of a prison. + + + +CHAPTER III. + +NEKHLUDOFF. + +When Maslova, wearied out by the long walk, reached the building, +accompanied by two soldiers, Prince Dmitri Ivanovitch Nekhludoff, +who had seduced her, was still lying on his high bedstead, with a +feather bed on the top of the spring mattress, in a fine, clean, +well-ironed linen night shirt, smoking a cigarette, and +considering what he had to do to-day, and what had happened +yesterday. + +Recalling the evening he had spent with the Korchagins, a wealthy +and aristocratic family, whose daughter every one expected he +would marry, he sighed, and, throwing away the end of his +cigarette, was going to take another out of the silver case; but, +changing his mind, he resolutely raised his solid frame, and, +putting down his smooth, white legs, stepped into his slippers, +threw his silk dressing gown over his broad shoulders, and passed +into his dressing-room, walking heavily and quickly. There he +carefully cleaned his teeth, many of which were filled, with +tooth powder, and rinsed his mouth with scented elixir. After +that he washed his hands with perfumed soap, cleaned his long +nails with particular care, then, from a tap fixed to his marble +washstand, he let a spray of cold water run over his face and +stout neck. Having finished this part of the business, he went +into a third room, where a shower bath stood ready for him. +Having refreshed his full, white, muscular body, and dried it +with a rough bath sheet, he put on his fine undergarments and his +boots, and sat down before the glass to brush his black beard and +his curly hair, that had begun to get thin above the forehead. +Everything he used, everything belonging to his toilet, his +linen, his clothes, boots, necktie, pin, studs, was of the best +quality, very quiet, simple, durable and costly. + +Nekhludoff dressed leisurely, and went into the dining-room. A +table, which looked very imposing with its four legs carved in +the shape of lions' paws, and a huge side-board to match, stood +in the oblong room, the floor of which had been polished by three +men the day before. On the table, which was covered with a fine, +starched cloth, stood a silver coffeepot full of aromatic coffee, +a sugar basin, a jug of fresh cream, and a bread basket filled +with fresh rolls, rusks, and biscuits; and beside the plate lay +the last number of the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, a newspaper, and +several letters. + +Nekhludoff was just going to open his letters, when a stout, +middle-aged woman in mourning, a lace cap covering the widening +parting of her hair, glided into the room. This was Agraphena +Petrovna, formerly lady's maid to Nekhludoff's mother. Her +mistress had died quite recently in this very house, and she +remained with the son as his housekeeper. Agraphena Petrovna had +spent nearly ten years, at different times, abroad with +Nekhludoff's mother, and had the appearance and manners of a +lady. She had lived with the Nekhludoffs from the time she was a +child, and had known Dmitri Ivanovitch at the time when he was +still little Mitinka. + +"Good-morning, Dmitri Ivanovitch." + +"Good-morning, Agraphena Petrovna. What is it you want?" +Nekhludoff asked. + +"A letter from the princess; either from the mother or the +daughter. The maid brought it some time ago, and is waiting in my +room," answered Agraphena Petrovna, handing him the letter with a +significant smile. + +"All right! Directly!" said Nekhludoff, taking the letter and +frowning as he noticed Agraphena Petrovna's smile. + +That smile meant that the letter was from the younger Princess +Korchagin, whom Agraphena Petrovna expected him to marry. This +supposition of hers annoyed Nekhludoff. + +"Then I'll tell her to wait?" and Agraphena Petrovna took a crumb +brush which was not in its place, put it away, and sailed out of +the room. + +Nekhludoff opened the perfumed note, and began reading it. + +The note was written on a sheet of thick grey paper, with rough +edges; the writing looked English. It said: + +Having assumed the task of acting as your memory, I take the +liberty of reminding you that on this the 28th day of April you +have to appear at the Law Courts, as juryman, and, in +consequence, can on no account accompany us and Kolosoff to the +picture gallery, as, with your habitual flightiness, you promised +yesterday; _a moins que vous ne soyez dispose a payer la cour +d'assise les 300 roubles d'amende que vous vous refusez pour +votre cheval,_ for not appearing in time. I remembered it last +night after you were gone, so do not forget. + + Princess M. Korchagin. + +On the other side was a postscript. + +_Maman vous fait dire que votre convert vous attendra jusqu'a +la nuit. Venez absolument a quelle heure que cela soit._ + + M. K. + +Nekhludoff made a grimace. This note was a continuation of that +skilful manoeuvring which the Princess Korchagin had already +practised for two months in order to bind him closer and closer +with invisible threads. And yet, beside the usual hesitation of +men past their youth to marry unless they are very much in love, +Nekhludoff had very good reasons why, even if he did make up his +mind to it, he could not propose at once. It was not that ten +years previously he had betrayed and forsaken Maslova; he had +quite forgotten that, and he would not have considered it a +reason for not marrying. No! The reason was that he had a liaison +with a married woman, and, though he considered it broken off, +she did not. + +Nekhludoff was rather shy with women, and his very shyness +awakened in this married woman, the unprincipled wife of the +marechal de noblesse of a district where Nekhludoff was present +at an election, the desire of vanquishing him. This woman drew +him into an intimacy which entangled him more and more, while it +daily became more distasteful to him. Having succumbed to the +temptation, Nekhludoff felt guilty, and had not the courage to +break the tie without her consent. And this was the reason he did +not feel at liberty to propose to Korchagin even if he had wished +to do so. Among the letters on the table was one from this +woman's husband. Seeing his writing and the postmark, Nekhludoff +flushed, and felt his energies awakening, as they always did when +he was facing any kind of danger. + +But his excitement passed at once. The marechal do noblesse, of +the district in which his largest estate lay, wrote only to let +Nekhludoff know that there was to be a special meeting towards +the end of May, and that Nekhludoff was to be sure and come to +"_donner un coup d'epaule_," at the important debates concerning +the schools and the roads, as a strong opposition by the +reactionary party was expected. + +The marechal was a liberal, and was quite engrossed in this +fight, not even noticing the misfortune that had befallen him. + +Nekhludoff remembered the dreadful moments he had lived through; +once when he thought that the husband had found him out and was +going to challenge him, and he was making up his mind to fire +into the air; also the terrible scene he had with her when she +ran out into the park, and in her excitement tried to drown +herself in the pond. + +"Well, I cannot go now, and can do nothing until I get a reply +from her," thought Nekhludoff. A week ago he had written her a +decisive letter, in which he acknowledged his guilt, and his +readiness to atone for it; but at the same time he pronounced +their relations to be at an end, for her own good, as he +expressed it. To this letter he had as yet received no answer. +This might prove a good sign, for if she did not agree to break +off their relations, she would have written at once, or even come +herself, as she had done before. Nekhludoff had heard that there +was some officer who was paying her marked attention, and this +tormented him by awakening jealousy, and at the same time +encouraged him with the hope of escape from the deception that +was oppressing him. + +The other letter was from his steward. The steward wrote to tell +him that a visit to his estates was necessary in order to enter +into possession, and also to decide about the further management +of his lands; whether it was to continue in the same way as when +his mother was alive, or whether, as he had represented to the +late lamented princess, and now advised the young prince, they +had not better increase their stock and farm all the land now +rented by the peasants themselves. The steward wrote that this +would be a far more profitable way of managing the property; at +the same time, he apologised for not having forwarded the 3,000 +roubles income due on the 1st. This money would be sent on by the +next mail. The reason for the delay was that he could not get the +money out of the peasants, who had grown so untrustworthy that he +had to appeal to the authorities. This letter was partly +disagreeable, and partly pleasant. It was pleasant to feel that +he had power over so large a property, and yet disagreeable, +because Nekhludoff had been an enthusiastic admirer of Henry +George and Herbert Spencer. Being himself heir to a large +property, he was especially struck by the position taken up by +Spencer in Social Statics, that justice forbids private +landholding, and with the straightforward resoluteness of his +age, had not merely spoken to prove that land could not be looked +upon as private property, and written essays on that subject at +the university, but had acted up to his convictions, and, +considering it wrong to hold landed property, had given the small +piece of land he had inherited from his father to the peasants. +Inheriting his mother's large estates, and thus becoming a landed +proprietor, he had to choose one of two things: either to give up +his property, as he had given up his father's land ten years +before, or silently to confess that all his former ideas were +mistaken and false. + +He could not choose the former because he had no means but the +landed estates (he did not care to serve); moreover, he had +formed luxurious habits which he could not easily give up. +Besides, he had no longer the same inducements; his strong +convictions, the resoluteness of youth, and the ambitious desire +to do something unusual were gone. As to the second course, that +of denying those clear and unanswerable proofs of the injustice +of landholding, which he had drawn from Spencer's Social Statics, +and the brilliant corroboration of which he had at a later period +found in the works of Henry George, such a course was impossible +to him. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +MISSY. + +When Nekhludoff had finished his coffee, he went to his study to +look at the summons, and find out what time he was to appear at +the court, before writing his answer to the princess. Passing +through his studio, where a few studies hung on the walls and, +facing the easel, stood an unfinished picture, a feeling of +inability to advance in art, a sense of his incapacity, came over +him. He had often had this feeling, of late, and explained it by +his too finely-developed aesthetic taste; still, the feeling was +a very unpleasant one. Seven years before this he had given up +military service, feeling sure that he had a talent for art, and +had looked down with some disdain at all other activity from the +height of his artistic standpoint. And now it turned out that he +had no right to do so, and therefore everything that reminded him +of all this was unpleasant. He looked at the luxurious fittings +of the studio with a heavy heart, and it was in no cheerful mood +that he entered his study, a large, lofty room fitted up with a +view to comfort, convenience, and elegant appearance. He found +the summons at once in a pigeon hole, labelled "immediate," of +his large writing table. He had to appear at the court at 11 +o'clock. + +Nekhludoff sat down to write a note in reply to the princess, +thanking her for the invitation, and promising to try and come to +dinner. Having written one note, he tore it up, as it seemed too +intimate. He wrote another, but it was too cold; he feared it +might give offence, so he tore it up, too. He pressed the button +of an electric bell, and his servant, an elderly, morose-looking +man, with whiskers and shaved chin and lip, wearing a grey cotton +apron, entered at the door. + +"Send to fetch an isvostchik, please." + +"Yes, sir." + +"And tell the person who is waiting that I send thanks for the +invitation, and shall try to come." + +"Yes, sir." + +"It is not very polite, but I can't write; no matter, I shall see +her today," thought Nekhludoff, and went to get his overcoat. + +When he came out of the house, an isvostchik he knew, with +india-rubber tires to his trap, was at the door waiting for him. +"You had hardly gone away from Prince Korchagin's yesterday," he +said, turning half round, "when I drove up, and the Swiss at the +door says, 'just gone.'" The isvostchik knew that Nekhludoff +visited at the Korchagins, and called there on the chance of +being engaged by him. + +"Even the isvostchiks know of my relations with the Korchagins," +thought Nekhludoff, and again the question whether he should not +marry Princess Korchagin presented itself to him, and he could +not decide it either way, any more than most of the questions +that arose in his mind at this time. + +It was in favour of marriage in general, that besides the +comforts of hearth and home, it made a moral life possible, and +chiefly that a family would, so Nekhludoff thought, give an aim +to his now empty life. + +Against marriage in general was the fear, common to bachelors +past their first youth, of losing freedom, and an unconscious awe +before this mysterious creature, a woman. + +In this particular case, in favour of marrying Missy (her name +was Mary, but, as is usual among a certain set, a nickname had +been given her) was that she came of good family, and differed in +everything, manner of speaking, walking, laughing, from the +common people, not by anything exceptional, but by her "good +breeding"--he could find no other term for this quality, though +he prized it very highly---and, besides, she thought more of him +than of anybody else, therefore evidently understood him. This +understanding of him, i.e., the recognition of his superior +merits, was to Nekhludoff a proof of her good sense and correct +judgment. Against marrying Missy in particular, was, that in all +likelihood, a girl with even higher qualities could be found, +that she was already 27, and that he was hardly her first love. +This last idea was painful to him. His pride would not reconcile +itself with the thought that she had loved some one else, even in +the past. Of course, she could not have known that she should +meet him, but the thought that she was capable of loving another +offended him. So that he had as many reasons for marrying as +against it; at any rate, they weighed equally with Nekhludoff, +who laughed at himself, and called himself the ass of the fable, +remaining like that animal undecided which haycock to turn to. + +"At any rate, before I get an answer from Mary Vasilievna (the +marechal's wife), and finish completely with her, I can do +nothing," he said to himself. And the conviction that he might, +and was even obliged, to delay his decision, was comforting. +"Well, I shall consider all that later on," he said to himself, +as the trap drove silently along the asphalt pavement up to the +doors of the Court. + +"Now I must fulfil my public duties conscientiously, as I am in +the habit of always doing, and as I consider it right to do. +Besides, they are often interesting." And he entered the hall of +the Law Courts, past the doorkeeper. + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE JURYMEN. + +The corridors of the Court were already full of activity. The +attendants hurried, out of breath, dragging their feet along the +ground without lifting them, backwards and forwards, with all +sorts of messages and papers. Ushers, advocates, and law officers +passed hither and thither. Plaintiffs, and those of the accused +who were not guarded, wandered sadly along the walls or sat +waiting. + +"Where is the Law Court?" Nekhludoff asked of an attendant. + +"Which? There is the Civil Court and the Criminal Court." + +"I am on the jury." + +"The Criminal Court you should have said. Here to the right, then +to the left--the second door." + +Nekhludoff followed the direction. + +Meanwhile some of the Criminal Court jurymen who were late had +hurriedly passed into a separate room. At the door mentioned two +men stood waiting. + +One, a tall, fat merchant, a kind-hearted fellow, had evidently +partaken of some refreshments and a glass of something, and was +in most pleasant spirits. The other was a shopman of Jewish +extraction. They were talking about the price of wool when +Nekhludoff came up and asked them if this was the jurymen's room. + +"Yes, my dear sir, this is it. One of us? On the jury, are you?" +asked the merchant, with a merry wink. + +"Ah, well, we shall have a go at the work together," he +continued, after Nekhludoff had answered in the affirmative. "My +name is Baklasheff, merchant of the Second Guild," he said, +putting out his broad, soft, flexible hand. + +"With whom have I the honour?" + +Nekhludoff gave his name and passed into the jurymen's room. + +Inside the room were about ten persons of all sorts. They had +come but a short while ago, and some were sitting, others walking +up and down, looking at each other, and making each other's +acquaintance. There was a retired colonel in uniform; some were +in frock coats, others in morning coats, and only one wore a +peasant's dress. + +Their faces all had a certain look of satisfaction at the +prospect of fulfilling a public duty, although many of them had +had to leave their businesses, and most were complaining of it. + +The jurymen talked among themselves about the weather, the early +spring, and the business before them, some having been +introduced, others just guessing who was who. Those who were not +acquainted with Nekhludoff made haste to get introduced, +evidently looking upon this as an honour, and he taking it as his +due, as he always did when among strangers. Had he been asked why +he considered himself above the majority of people, he could not +have given an answer; the life he had been living of late was not +particularly meritorious. The fact of his speaking English, +French, and German with a good accent, and of his wearing the +best linen, clothes, ties, and studs, bought from the most +expensive dealers in these goods, he quite knew would not serve +as a reason for claiming superiority. At the same time he did +claim superiority, and accepted the respect paid him as his due, +and was hurt if he did not get it. In the jurymen's room his +feelings were hurt by disrespectful treatment. Among the jury +there happened to be a man whom he knew, a former teacher of his +sister's children, Peter Gerasimovitch. Nekhludoff never knew his +surname, and even bragged a bit about this. This man was now a +master at a public school. Nekhludoff could not stand his +familiarity, his self-satisfied laughter, his vulgarity, in +short. + +"Ah ha! You're also trapped." These were the words, accompanied +with boisterous laughter, with which Peter Gerasimovitch greeted +Nekhludoff. "Have you not managed to get out of it?" + +"I never meant to get out of it," replied Nekhludoff, gloomily, +and in a tone of severity. + +"Well, I call this being public spirited. But just wait until you +get hungry or sleepy; you'll sing to another tune then." + +"This son of a priest will be saying 'thou' [in Russian, as in +many other languages, "thou" is used generally among people very +familiar with each other, or by superiors to inferiors] to me +next," thought Nekhludoff, and walked away, with such a look of +sadness on his face, as might have been natural if he had just +heard of the death of all his relations. He came up to a group +that had formed itself round a clean-shaven, tall, dignified man, +who was recounting something with great animation. This man was +talking about the trial going on in the Civil Court as of a case +well known to himself, mentioning the judges and a celebrated +advocate by name. He was saying that it seemed wonderful how the +celebrated advocate had managed to give such a clever turn to the +affair that an old lady, though she had the right on her side, +would have to pay a large sum to her opponent. "The advocate is a +genius," he said. + +The listeners heard it all with respectful attention, and several +of them tried to put in a word, but the man interrupted them, as +if he alone knew all about it. + +Though Nekhludoff had arrived late, he had to wait a long time. +One of the members of the Court had not yet come, and everybody +was kept waiting. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE JUDGES. + +The president, who had to take the chair, had arrived early. The +president was a tall, stout man, with long grey whiskers. Though +married, he led a very loose life, and his wife did the same, so +they did not stand in each other's way. This morning he had +received a note from a Swiss girl, who had formerly been a +governess in his house, and who was now on her way from South +Russia to St. Petersburg. She wrote that she would wait for him +between five and six p.m. in the Hotel Italia. This made him wish +to begin and get through the sitting as soon as possible, so as +to have time to call before six p.m. on the little red-haired +Clara Vasilievna, with whom he had begun a romance in the country +last summer. He went into a private room, latched the door, took +a pair of dumb-bells out of a cupboard, moved his arms 20 times +upwards, downwards, forwards, and sideways, then holding the +dumb-bells above his head, lightly bent his knees three times. + +"Nothing keeps one going like a cold bath and exercise," he said, +feeling the biceps of his right arm with his left hand, on the +third finger of which he wore a gold ring. He had still to do the +moulinee movement (for he always went through those two exercises +before a long sitting), when there was a pull at the door. The +president quickly put away the dumb-bells and opened the door, +saying, "I beg your pardon." + +One of the members, a high-shouldered, discontented-looking man, +with gold spectacles, came into the room. "Matthew Nikitich has +again not come," he said, in a dissatisfied tone. + +"Not yet?" said the president, putting on his uniform. "He is +always late." + +"It is extraordinary. He ought to be ashamed of himself," said +the member, angrily, and taking out a cigarette. + +This member, a very precise man, had had an unpleasant encounter +with his wife in the morning, because she had spent her allowance +before the end of the month, and had asked him to give her some +money in advance, but he would not give way to her, and they had +a quarrel. The wife told him that if he were going to behave so, +he need not expect any dinner; there would be no dinner for him +at home. At this point he left, fearing that she might carry out +her threat, for anything might be expected from her. "This comes +of living a good, moral life," he thought, looking at the +beaming, healthy, cheerful, and kindly president, who, with +elbows far apart, was smoothing his thick grey whiskers with his +fine white hands over the embroidered collar of his uniform. "He +is always contented and merry while I am suffering." + +The secretary came in and brought some document. + +"Thanks, very much," said the president, lighting a cigarette. +"Which case shall we take first, then?" + +"The poisoning case, I should say," answered the secretary, with +indifference. + +"All right; the poisoning case let it be," said the president, +thinking that he could get this case over by four o'clock, and +then go away. "And Matthew Nikitich; has he come?" + +"Not yet." + +"And Breve?" + +"He is here," replied the secretary. + +"Then if you see him, please tell him that we begin with the +poisoning case." Breve was the public prosecutor, who was to read +the indictment in this case. + +In the corridor the secretary met Breve, who, with up lifted +shoulders, a portfolio under one arm, the other swinging with the +palm turned to the front, was hurrying along the corridor, +clattering with his heels. + +"Michael Petrovitch wants to know if you are ready?" the secretary +asked. + +"Of course; I am always ready," said the public prosecutor. "What +are we taking first?" + +"The poisoning case." + +"That's quite right," said the public prosecutor, but did not +think it at all right. He had spent the night in a hotel playing +cards with a friend who was giving a farewell party. Up to five +in the morning they played and drank, so he had no time to look +at this poisoning case, and meant to run it through now. The +secretary, happening to know this, advised the president to begin +with the poisoning case. The secretary was a Liberal, even a +Radical, in opinion. + +Breve was a Conservative; the secretary disliked him, and envied +him his position. + +"Well, and how about the Skoptzy?" [a religious sect] asked the +secretary. + +"I have already said that I cannot do it without witnesses, and +so I shall say to the Court." + +"Dear me, what does it matter?" + +"I cannot do it," said Breve; and, waving his arm, he ran into +his private room. + +He was putting off the case of the Skoptzy on account of the +absence of a very unimportant witness, his real reason being that +if they were tried by an educated jury they might possibly be +acquitted. + +By an agreement with the president this case was to be tried in +the coming session at a provincial town, where there would be +more peasants, and, therefore, more chances of conviction. + +The movement in the corridor increased. The people crowded most +at the doors of the Civil Court, in which the case that the +dignified man talked about was being heard. + +An interval in the proceeding occurred, and the old woman came +out of the court, whose property that genius of an advocate had +found means of getting for his client, a person versed in law who +had no right to it whatever. The judges knew all about the case, +and the advocate and his client knew it better still, but the +move they had invented was such that it was impossible not to +take the old woman's property and not to hand it over to the +person versed in law. + +The old woman was stout, well dressed, and had enormous flowers +on her bonnet; she stopped as she came out of the door, and +spreading out her short fat arms and turning to her advocate, she +kept repeating. "What does it all mean? just fancy!" + +The advocate was looking at the flowers in her bonnet, and +evidently not listening to her, but considering some question or +other. + +Next to the old woman, out of the door of the Civil Court, his +broad, starched shirt front glistening from under his low-cut +waistcoat, with a self-satisfied look on his face, came the +celebrated advocate who had managed to arrange matters so that +the old woman lost all she had, and the person versed in the law +received more than 100,000 roubles. The advocate passed close to +the old woman, and, feeling all eyes directed towards him, his +whole bearing seemed to say: "No expressions of deference are +required." + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE OFFICIALS OF THE COURT. + +At last Matthew Nikitich also arrived, and the usher, a thin man, +with a long neck and a kind of sideways walk, his nether lip +protruding to one side, which made him resemble a turkey, came +into the jurymen's room. + +This usher was an honest man, and had a university education, but +could not keep a place for any length of time, as he was subject +to fits of drunkenness. Three months before a certain countess, +who patronised his wife, had found him this place, and he was +very pleased to have kept it so long. + +"Well, sirs, is everybody here?" he asked, putting his pince-nez +on his nose, and looking round. + +"Everybody, I think," said the jolly merchant. + +"All right; we'll soon see." And, taking a list from his pocket, +he began calling out the names, looking at the men, sometimes +through and sometimes over his pince-nez. + +"Councillor of State, [grades such as this are common in Russia, +and mean very little] J. M. Nikiforoff!" + +"I am he," said the dignified-looking man, well versed in the +habits of the law court. + +"Ivan Semionovitch Ivanoff, retired colonel!" + +"Here!" replied a thin man, in the uniform of a retired officer. + +"Merchant of the Second Guild, Peter Baklasheff!" + +"Here we are, ready!" said the good-humoured merchant, with a +broad smile. + +"Lieutenant of the Guards, Prince Dmitri Nekhludoff!" + +"I am he," answered Nekhludoff. + +The usher bowed to him, looking over his pince-nez, politely and +pleasantly, as if wishing to distinguish him from the others. + +"Captain Youri Demitrievitch-Dantchenko, merchant; Grigori +Euphimitch Kouleshoff," etc. All but two were present. + +"Now please to come to the court, gentlemen," said the usher, +pointing to the door, with an amiable wave of his hand. + +All moved towards the door, pausing to let each other pass. Then +they went through the corridor into the court. + +The court was a large, long room. At one end there was a raised +platform, with three steps leading up to it, on which stood a +table, covered with a green cloth trimmed with a fringe of a +darker shade. At the table were placed three arm-chairs, with +high-carved oak backs; on the wall behind them hung a +full-length, brightly-coloured portrait of the Emperor in uniform +and ribbon, with one foot in advance, and holding a sword. In the +right corner hung a case, with an image of Christ crowned with +thorns, and beneath it stood a lectern, and on the same side the +prosecuting attorney's desk. On the left, opposite the desk, was +the secretary's table, and in front of it, nearer the public, an +oak grating, with the prisoners' bench, as yet unoccupied, behind +it. Besides all this, there were on the right side of the +platform high-backed ashwood chairs for the jury, and on the +floor below tables for the advocates. All this was in the front +part of the court, divided from the back by a grating. + +The back was all taken up by seats in tiers. Sitting on the front +seats were four women, either servant or factory girls, and two +working men, evidently overawed by the grandeur of the room, and +not venturing to speak above a whisper. + +Soon after the jury had come in the usher entered, with his +sideward gait, and stepping to the front, called out in a loud +voice, as if he meant to frighten those present, "The Court is +coming!" Every one got up as the members stepped on to the +platform. Among them the president, with his muscles and fine +whiskers. Next came the gloomy member of the Court, who was now +more gloomy than ever, having met his brother-in-law, who +informed him that he had just called in to see his sister (the +member's wife), and that she had told him that there would be no +dinner there. + +"So that, evidently, we shall have to call in at a cook shop," +the brother-in-law added, laughing. + +"It is not at all funny," said the gloomy member, and became +gloomier still. + +Then at last came the third member of the Court, the same Matthew +Nikitich, who was always late. He was a bearded man, with large, +round, kindly eyes. He was suffering from a catarrh of the +stomach, and, according to his doctor's advice, he had begun +trying a new treatment, and this had kept him at home longer than +usual. Now, as he was ascending the platform, he had a pensive +air. He was in the habit of making guesses in answer to all sorts +of self-put questions by different curious means. Just now he had +asked whether the new treatment would be beneficial, and had +decided that it would cure his catarrh if the number of steps +from the door to his chair would divide by three. He made 26 +steps, but managed to get in a 27th just by his chair. + +The figures of the president and the members in their uniforms, +with gold-embroidered collars, looked very imposing. They seemed +to feel this themselves, and, as if overpowered by their own +grandeur, hurriedly sat down on the high backed chairs behind the +table with the green cloth, on which were a triangular article +with an eagle at the top, two glass vases--something like those +in which sweetmeats are kept in refreshment rooms--an inkstand, +pens, clean paper, and good, newly-cut pencils of different +kinds. + +The public prosecutor came in with the judges. With his portfolio +under one arm, and swinging the other, he hurriedly walked to his +seat near the window, and was instantly absorbed in reading and +looking through the papers, not wasting a single moment, in hope +of being ready when the business commenced. He had been public +prosecutor but a short time, and had only prosecuted four times +before this. He was very ambitious, and had firmly made up his +mind to get on, and therefore thought it necessary to get a +conviction whenever he prosecuted. He knew the chief facts of the +poisoning case, and had already formed a plan of action. He only +wanted to copy out a few points which he required. + +The secretary sat on the opposite side of the platform, and, +having got ready all the papers he might want, was looking +through an article, prohibited by the censor, which he had +procured and read the day before. He was anxious to have a talk +about this article with the bearded member, who shared his views, +but wanted to look through it once more before doing so. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +SWEARING IN THE JURY. + +The president, having looked through some papers and put a few +questions to the usher and the secretary, gave the order for the +prisoners to be brought in. + +The door behind the grating was instantly opened, and two +gendarmes, with caps on their heads, and holding naked swords in +their hands, came in, followed by the prisoners, a red-haired, +freckled man, and two women. The man wore a prison cloak, which +was too long and too wide for him. He stuck out his thumbs, and +held his arms close to his sides, thus keeping the sleeves, which +were also too long, from slipping over his hands. Without looking +at the judges he gazed steadfastly at the form, and passing to +the other side of it, he sat down carefully at the very edge, +leaving plenty of room for the others. He fixed his eyes on the +president, and began moving the muscles of his cheeks, as if +whispering something. The woman who came next was also dressed in +a prison cloak, and had a prison kerchief round her head. She had +a sallow complexion, no eyebrows or lashes, and very red eyes. +This woman appeared perfectly calm. Having caught her cloak +against something, she detached it carefully, without any haste, +and sat down. + +The third prisoner was Maslova. + +As soon as she appeared, the eyes of all the men in the court +turned her way, and remained fixed on her white face, her +sparklingly-brilliant black eyes and the swelling bosom under the +prison cloak. Even the gendarme whom she passed on her way to her +seat looked at her fixedly till she sat down, and then, as if +feeling guilty, hurriedly turned away, shook himself, and began +staring at the window in front of him. + +The president paused until the prisoners had taken their seats, +and when Maslova was seated, turned to the secretary. + +Then the usual procedure commenced; the counting of the jury, +remarks about those who had not come, the fixing of the fines to +be exacted from them, the decisions concerning those who claimed +exemption, the appointing of reserve jurymen. + +Having folded up some bits of paper and put them in one of the +glass vases, the president turned up the gold-embroidered cuffs +of his uniform a little way, and began drawing the lots, one by +one, and opening them. Nekhludoff was among the jurymen thus +drawn. Then, having let down his sleeves, the president requested +the priest to swear in the jury. + +The old priest, with his puffy, red face, his brown gown, and his +gold cross and little order, laboriously moving his stiff legs, +came up to the lectern beneath the icon. + +The jurymen got up, and crowded towards the lectern. + +"Come up, please," said the priest, pulling at the cross on his +breast with his plump hand, and waiting till all the jury had +drawn near. When they had all come up the steps of the platform, +the priest passed his bald, grey head sideways through the greasy +opening of the stole, and, having rearranged his thin hair, he +again turned to the jury. "Now, raise your right arms in this +way, and put your fingers together, thus," he said, with his +tremulous old voice, lifting his fat, dimpled hand, and putting +the thumb and two first fingers together, as if taking a pinch of +something. "Now, repeat after me, 'I promise and swear, by the +Almighty God, by His holy gospels, and by the life-giving cross +of our Lord, that in this work which,'" he said, pausing between +each sentence--"don't let your arm down; hold it like this," he +remarked to a young man who had lowered his arm--"'that in this +work which . . . '" + +The dignified man with the whiskers, the colonel, the merchant, +and several more held their arms and fingers as the priest +required of them, very high, very exactly, as if they liked doing +it; others did it unwillingly and carelessly. Some repeated the +words too loudly, and with a defiant tone, as if they meant to +say, "In spite of all, I will and shall speak." Others whispered +very low, and not fast enough, and then, as if frightened, +hurried to catch up the priest. Some kept their fingers tightly +together, as if fearing to drop the pinch of invisible something +they held; others kept separating and folding theirs. Every one +save the old priest felt awkward, but he was sure he was +fulfilling a very useful and important duty. + +After the swearing in, the president requested the jury to choose +a foreman, and the jury, thronging to the door, passed out into +the debating-room, where almost all of them at once began to +smoke cigarettes. Some one proposed the dignified man as foreman, +and he was unanimously accepted. Then the jurymen put out their +cigarettes and threw them away and returned to the court. The +dignified man informed the president that he was chosen foreman, +and all sat down again on the high-backed chairs. + +Everything went smoothly, quickly, and not without a certain +solemnity. And this exactitude, order, and solemnity evidently +pleased those who took part in it: it strengthened the impression +that they were fulfilling a serious and valuable public duty. +Nekhludoff, too, felt this. + +As soon as the jurymen were seated, the president made a speech +on their rights, obligations, and responsibilities. While +speaking he kept changing his position; now leaning on his right, +now on his left hand, now against the back, then on the arms of +his chair, now putting the papers straight, now handling his +pencil and paper-knife. + +According to his words, they had the right of interrogating the +prisoners through the president, to use paper and pencils, and to +examine the articles put in as evidence. Their duty was to judge +not falsely, but justly. Their responsibility meant that if the +secrecy of their discussion were violated, or communications were +established with outsiders, they would be liable to punishment. +Every one listened with an expression of respectful attention. +The merchant, diffusing a smell of brandy around him, and +restraining loud hiccups, approvingly nodded his head at every +sentence. + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE TRIAL--THE PRISONERS QUESTIONED. + +When he had finished his speech, the president turned to the male +prisoner. + +"Simeon Kartinkin, rise." + +Simeon jumped up, his lips continuing to move nervously and +inaudibly. + +"Your name?" + +"Simon Petrov Kartinkin," he said, rapidly, with a cracked voice, +having evidently prepared the answer. + +"What class do you belong to?" + +"Peasant." + +"What government, district, and parish?" + +"Toula Government, Krapivinskia district, Koupianovski parish, +the village Borki." + +"Your age?" + +"Thirty-three; born in the year one thousand eight--" + +"What religion?" + +"Of the Russian religion, orthodox." + +"Married?" + +"Oh, no, sir." + +"Your occupation?" + +"I had a place in the Hotel Mauritania." + +"Have you ever been tried before?" + +"I never got tried before, because, as we used to live +formerly--" + +"So you never were tried before?" + +"God forbid, never." + +"Have you received a copy of the indictment?" + +"I have." + +"Sit down." + +"Euphemia Ivanovna Botchkova," said the president, turning to the +next prisoner. + +But Simon continued standing in front of Botchkova. + +"Kartinkin, sit down!" Kartinkin continued standing. + +"Kartinkin, sit down!" But Kartinkin sat down only when the +usher, with his head on one side, and with preternaturally +wide-open eyes, ran up, and said, in a tragic whisper, "Sit down, +sit down!" + +Kartinkin sat down as hurriedly as he had risen, wrapping his +cloak round him, and again began moving his lips silently. + +"Your name?" asked the president, with a weary sigh at being +obliged to repeat the same questions, without looking at the +prisoner, but glancing over a paper that lay before him. The +president was so used to his task that, in order to get quicker +through it all, he did two things at a time. + +Botchkova was forty-three years old, and came from the town of +Kalomna. She, too, had been in service at the Hotel Mauritania. + +"I have never been tried before, and have received a copy of the +indictment." She gave her answers boldly, in a tone of voice as +if she meant to add to each answer, "And I don't care who knows +it, and I won't stand any nonsense." + +She did not wait to be told, but sat down as soon as she had +replied to the last question. + +"Your name?" turning abruptly to the third prisoner. "You will +have to rise," he added, softly and gently, seeing that Maslova +kept her seat. + +Maslova got up and stood, with her chest expanded, looking at the +president with that peculiar expression of readiness in her +smiling black eyes. + +"What is your name?" + +"Lubov," she said. + +Nekhludoff had put on his pince-nez, looking at the prisoners +while they were being questioned. + +"No, it is impossible," he thought, not taking his eyes off the +prisoner. "Lubov! How can it be?" he thought to himself, after +hearing her answer. The president was going to continue his +questions, but the member with the spectacles interrupted him, +angrily whispering something. The president nodded, and turned +again to the prisoner. + +"How is this," he said, "you are not put down here as Lubov?" + +The prisoner remained silent. + +"I want your real name." + +"What is your baptismal name?" asked the angry member. + +"Formerly I used to be called Katerina." + +"No, it cannot be," said Nekhludoff to himself; and yet he was +now certain that this was she, that same girl, half ward, half +servant to his aunts; that Katusha, with whom he had once been in +love, really in love, but whom he had betrayed and then +abandoned, and never again brought to mind, for the memory would +have been too painful, would have convicted him too clearly, +proving that he who was so proud of his integrity had treated +this woman in a revolting, scandalous way. + +Yes, this was she. He now clearly saw in her face that strange, +indescribable individuality which distinguishes every face from +all others; something peculiar, all its own, not to be found +anywhere else. In spite of the unhealthy pallor and the fulness +of the face, it was there, this sweet, peculiar individuality; on +those lips, in the slight squint of her eyes, in the voice, +particularly in the naive smile, and in the expression of +readiness on the face and figure. + +"You should have said so," remarked the president, again in a +gentle tone. "Your patronymic?" + +"I am illegitimate." + +"Well, were you not called by your godfather's name?" + +"Yes, Mikhaelovna." + +"And what is it she can be guilty of?" continued Nekhludoff, in +his mind, unable to breathe freely. + +"Your family name--your surname, I mean?" the president went on. + +"They used to call me by my mother's surname, Maslova." + +"What class?" + +"Meschanka." [the lowest town class or grade] + +"Religion--orthodox?" + +"Orthodox." + +"Occupation. What was your occupation?" + +Maslova remained silent. + +"What was your employment?" + +"You know yourself," she said, and smiled. Then, casting a +hurried look round the room, again turned her eyes on the +president. + +There was something so unusual in the expression of her face, so +terrible and piteous in the meaning of the words she had uttered, +in this smile, and in the furtive glance she had cast round the +room, that the president was abashed, and for a few minutes +silence reigned in the court. The silence was broken by some one +among the public laughing, then somebody said "Ssh," and the +president looked up and continued: + +"Have you ever been tried before?" + +"Never," answered Maslova, softly, and sighed. + +"Have you received a copy of the indictment?" + +"I have," she answered. + +"Sit down." + +The prisoner leant back to pick up her skirt in the way a fine +lady picks up her train, and sat down, folding her small white +hands in the sleeves of her cloak, her eyes fixed on the +president. Her face was calm again. + +The witnesses were called, and some sent away; the doctor who was +to act as expert was chosen and called into the court. + +Then the secretary got up and began reading the indictment. He +read distinctly, though he pronounced the "I" and "r" alike, with +a loud voice, but so quickly that the words ran into one another +and formed one uninterrupted, dreary drone. + +The judges bent now on one, now on the other arm of their chairs, +then on the table, then back again, shut and opened their eyes, +and whispered to each other. One of the gendarmes several times +repressed a yawn. + +The prisoner Kartinkin never stopped moving his cheeks. +Botchkova sat quite still and straight, only now and then +scratching her head under the kerchief. + +Maslova sat immovable, gazing at the reader; only now and then +she gave a slight start, as if wishing to reply, blushed, sighed +heavily, and changed the position of her hands, looked round, and +again fixed her eyes on the reader. + +Nekhludoff sat in the front row on his high-backed chair, without +removing his pince-nez, and looked at Maslova, while a +complicated and fierce struggle was going on in his soul. + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE TRIAL--THE INDICTMENT. + +The indictment ran as follows: On the 17th of January, 18--, in +the lodging-house Mauritania, occurred the sudden death of the +Second Guild merchant, Therapont Emilianovich Smelkoff, of +Kourgan. + +The local police doctor of the fourth district certified that +death was due to rupture of the heart, owing to the excessive use +of alcoholic liquids. The body of the said Smelkoff was interred. +After several days had elapsed, the merchant Timokhin, a +fellow-townsman and companion of the said Smelkoff, returned from +St. Petersburg, and hearing the circumstances that accompanied +the death of the latter, notified his suspicions that the death +was caused by poison, given with intent to rob the said Smelkoff +of his money. This suspicion was corroborated on inquiry, which +proved: + +1. That shortly before his death the said Smelkoff had received +the sum of 3,800 roubles from the bank. When an inventory of the +property of the deceased was made, only 312 roubles and 16 +copecks were found. + +2. The whole day and night preceding his death the said Smelkoff +spent with Lubka (alias Katerina Maslova) at her home and in the +lodging-house Mauritania, which she also visited at the said +Smelkoff's request during his absence, to get some money, which +she took out of his portmanteau in the presence of the servants +of the lodging-house Mauritania, Euphemia Botchkova and Simeon +Kartinkin, with a key given her by the said Smelkoff. In the +portmanteau opened by the said Maslova, the said Botchkova and +Kartinkin saw packets of 100-rouble bank-notes. + +3. On the said Smelkoff's return to the lodging-house Mauritania, +together with Lubka, the latter, in accordance with the attendant +Kartinkin's advice, gave the said Smelkoff some white powder +given to her by the said Kartinkin, dissolved in brandy. + +4. The next morning the said Lubka (alias Katerina Maslova) sold +to her mistress, the witness Kitaeva, a brothel-keeper, a diamond +ring given to her, as she alleged, by the said Smelkoff. + +5. The housemaid of the lodging-house Mauritania, Euphemia +Botchkova, placed to her account in the local Commercial Bank +1,800 roubles. The postmortem examination of the body of the said +Smelkoff and the chemical analysis of his intestines proved +beyond doubt the presence of poison in the organism, so that +there is reason to believe that the said Smelkoff's death was +caused by poisoning. + +When cross-examined, the accused, Maslova, Botchkova, and +Kartinkin, pleaded not guilty, deposing--Maslova, that she had +really been sent by Smelkoff from the brothel, where she "works," +as she expresses it, to the lodging-house Mauritania to get the +merchant some money, and that, having unlocked the portmanteau +with a key given her by the merchant, she took out 40 roubles, as +she was told to do, and that she had taken nothing more; that +Botchkova and Kartinkin, in whose presence she unlocked and +locked the portmanteau, could testify to the truth of the +statement. + +She gave this further evidence--that when she came to the +lodging-house for the second time she did, at the instigation of +Simeon Kartinkin, give Smelkoff some kind of powder, which she +thought was a narcotic, in a glass of brandy, hoping he would +fall asleep and that she would be able to get away from him; and +that Smelkoff, having beaten her, himself gave her the ring when +she cried and threatened to go away. + +The accused, Euphemia Botchkova, stated that she knew nothing +about the missing money, that she had not even gone into +Smelkoff's room, but that Lubka had been busy there all by +herself; that if anything had been stolen, it must have been done +by Lubka when she came with the merchant's key to get his money. + +At this point Maslova gave a start, opened her mouth, and looked +at Botchkova. "When," continued the secretary, "the receipt for +1,800 roubles from the bank was shown to Botchkova, and she was +asked where she had obtained the money, she said that it was her +own earnings for 12 years, and those of Simeon, whom she was +going to marry. The accused Simeon Kartinkin, when first +examined, confessed that he and Botchkova, at the instigation of +Maslova, who had come with the key from the brothel, had stolen +the money and divided it equally among themselves and Maslova." +Here Maslova again started, half-rose from her seat, and, +blushing scarlet, began to say something, but was stopped by the +usher. "At last," the secretary continued, reading, "Kartinkin +confessed also that he had supplied the powders in order to get +Smelkoff to sleep. When examined the second time he denied having +had anything to do with the stealing of the money or giving +Maslova the powders, accusing her of having done it alone." + +Concerning the money placed in the bank by Botchkova, he said the +same as she, that is, that the money was given to them both by +the lodgers in tips during 12 years' service. + +The indictment concluded as follows: + +In consequence of the foregoing, the peasant of the village +Borki, Simeon Kartinkin, 33 years of age, the meschanka Euphemia +Botchkova, 43 years of age, and the meschanka Katerina Maslova, +27 years of age, are accused of having on the 17th day of +January, 188--, jointly stolen from the said merchant, Smelkoff, +a ring and money, to the value of 2,500 roubles, and of having +given the said merchant, Smelkoff, poison to drink, with intent +of depriving him of life, and thereby causing his death. This +crime is provided for in clause 1,455 of the Penal Code, +paragraphs 4 and 5. + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE TRIAL--MASLOVA CROSS-EXAMINED. + +When the reading of the indictment was over, the president, after +having consulted the members, turned to Kartinkin, with an +expression that plainly said: Now we shall find out the whole +truth down to the minutest detail. + +"Peasant Simeon Kartinkin," he said, stooping to the left. + +Simeon Kartinkin got up, stretched his arms down his sides, and +leaning forward with his whole body, continued moving his cheeks +inaudibly. + +"You are accused of having on the 17th January, 188--, together +with Euphemia Botchkova and Katerina Maslova, stolen money from a +portmanteau belonging to the merchant Smelkoff, and then, having +procured some arsenic, persuaded Katerina Maslova to give it to +the merchant Smelkoff in a glass of brandy, which was the cause +of Smelkoff's death. Do you plead guilty?" said the president, +stooping to the right. + +"Not nohow, because our business is to attend on the lodgers, +and--" + +"You'll tell us that afterwards. Do you plead guilty?" + +"Oh, no, sir. I only,--" + +"You'll tell us that afterwards. Do you plead guilty?" quietly +and firmly asked the president. + +"Can't do such a thing, because that--" + +The usher again rushed up to Simeon Kartinkin, and stopped him +in a tragic whisper. + +The president moved the hand with which he held the paper and +placed the elbow in a different position with an air that said: +"This is finished," and turned to Euphemia Botchkova. + +"Euphemia Botchkova, you are accused of having, on the 17th of +January, 188-, in the lodging-house Mauritania, together with +Simeon Kartinkin and Katerina Maslova, stolen some money and a +ring out of the merchant Smelkoff's portmanteau, and having +shared the money among yourselves, given poison to the merchant +Smelkoff, thereby causing his death. Do you plead guilty?" + +"I am not guilty of anything," boldly and firmly replied the +prisoner. "I never went near the room, but when this baggage went +in she did the whole business." + +"You will say all this afterwards," the president again said, +quietly and firmly. "So you do not plead guilty?" + +"I did not take the money nor give the drink, nor go into the +room. Had I gone in I should have kicked her out." + +"So you do not plead guilty?" + +"Never." + +"Very well." + +"Katerina Maslova," the president began, turning to the third +prisoner, "you are accused of having come from the brothel with +the key of the merchant Smelkoff's portmanteau, money, and a +ring." He said all this like a lesson learned by heart, leaning +towards the member on his left, who was whispering into his ear +that a bottle mentioned in the list of the material evidence was +missing. "Of having stolen out of the portmanteau money and a +ring," he repeated, "and shared it. Then, returning to the +lodging house Mauritania with Smelkoff, of giving him poison in +his drink, and thereby causing his death. Do you plead guilty?" + +"I am not guilty of anything," she began rapidly. "As I said +before I say again, I did not take it--I did not take it; I did +not take anything, and the ring he gave me himself." + +"You do not plead guilty of having stolen 2,500 roubles?" asked +the president. + +"I've said I took nothing but the 40 roubles." + +"Well, and do you plead guilty of having given the merchant +Smelkoff a powder in his drink?" + +"Yes, that I did. Only I believed what they told me, that they +were sleeping powders, and that no harm could come of them. I +never thought, and never wished. . . God is my witness; I say, I +never meant this," she said. + +"So you do not plead guilty of having stolen the money and the +ring from the merchant Smelkoff, but confess that you gave him +the powder?" said the president. + +"Well, yes, I do confess this, but I thought they were sleeping +powders. I only gave them to make him sleep; I never meant and +never thought of worse." + +"Very well," said the president, evidently satisfied with the +results gained. "Now tell us how it all happened," and he leaned +back in his chair and put his folded hands on the table. "Tell us +all about it. A free and full confession will be to your +advantage." + +Maslova continued to look at the president in silence, and +blushing. + +"Tell us how it happened." + +"How it happened?" Maslova suddenly began, speaking quickly. "I +came to the lodging-house, and was shown into the room. He was +there, already very drunk." She pronounced the word _he_ with a +look of horror in her wide-open eyes. "I wished to go away, but +he would not let me." She stopped, as if having lost the thread, +or remembered some thing else. + +"Well, and then?" + +"Well, what then? I remained a bit, and went home again." + +At this moment the public prosecutor raised himself a little, +leaning on one elbow in an awkward manner. + +"You would like to put a question?" said the president, and +having received an answer in the affirmative, he made a gesture +inviting the public prosecutor to speak. + +"I want to ask, was the prisoner previously acquainted with +Simeon Kartinkin?" said the public prosecutor, without looking at +Maslova, and, having put the question, he compressed his lips and +frowned. + +The president repeated the question. Maslova stared at the public +prosecutor, with a frightened look. + +"With Simeon? Yes," she said. + +"I should like to know what the prisoner's acquaintance with +Kartinkin consisted in. Did they meet often?" + +"Consisted in? . . . He invited me for the lodgers; it was not +an acquaintance at all," answered Maslova, anxiously moving her +eyes from the president to the public prosecutor and back to the +president. + +"I should like to know why Kartinkin invited only Maslova, and +none of the other girls, for the lodgers?" said the public +prosecutor, with half-closed eyes and a cunning, Mephistophelian +smile. + +"I don't know. How should I know?" said Maslova, casting a +frightened look round, and fixing her eyes for a moment on +Nekhludoff. "He asked whom he liked." + +"Is it possible that she has recognised me?" thought Nekhludoff, +and the blood rushed to his face. But Maslova turned away without +distinguishing him from the others, and again fixed her eyes +anxiously on the public prosecutor. + +"So the prisoner denies having had any intimate relations with +Kartinkin? Very well, I have no more questions to ask." + +And the public prosecutor took his elbow off the desk, and began +writing something. He was not really noting anything down, but +only going over the letters of his notes with a pen, having seen +the procureur and leading advocates, after putting a clever +question, make a note, with which, later on, to annihilate their +adversaries. + +The president did not continue at once, because he was consulting +the member with the spectacles, whether he was agreed that the +questions (which had all been prepared be forehand and written +out) should be put. + +"Well! What happened next?" he then went on. + +"I came home," looking a little more boldly only at the +president, "and went to bed. Hardly had I fallen asleep when one +of our girls, Bertha, woke me. 'Go, your merchant has come +again!' He"--she again uttered the word _he_ with evident horror-- +"he kept treating our girls, and then wanted to send for more +wine, but his money was all gone, and he sent me to his lodgings +and told me where the money was, and how much to take. So I +went." + +The president was whispering to the member on his left, but, in +order to appear as if he had heard, he repeated her last words. + +"So you went. Well, what next?" + +"I went, and did all he told me; went into his room. I did not go +alone, but called Simeon Kartinkin and her," she said, pointing +to Botchkova. + +"That's a lie; I never went in," Botchkova began, but was +stopped. + +"In their presence I took out four notes," continued Maslova, +frowning, without looking at Botchkova. + +"Yes, but did the prisoner notice," again asked the prosecutor, +"how much money there was when she was getting out the 40 +roubles?" + +Maslova shuddered when the prosecutor addressed her; she did not +know why it was, but she felt that he wished her evil. + +"I did not count it, but only saw some 100-rouble notes." + +"Ah! The prisoner saw 100-rouble notes. That's all?" + +"Well, so you brought back the money," continued the president, +looking at the clock. + +"I did." + +"Well, and then?" + +"Then he took me back with him," said Maslova. + +"Well, and how did you give him the powder? In his drink?" + +"How did I give it? I put them in and gave it him." + +"Why did you give it him?" + +She did not answer, but sighed deeply and heavily. + +"He would not let me go," she said, after a moment's silence, +"and I was quite tired out, and so I went out into the passage +and said to Simeon, 'If he would only let me go, I am so tired.' +And he said, 'We are also sick of him; we were thinking of giving +him a sleeping draught; he will fall asleep, and then you can +go.' So I said all right. I thought they were harmless, and he +gave me the packet. I went in. He was lying behind the partition, +and at once called for brandy. I took a bottle of 'fine +champagne' from the table, poured out two glasses, one for him +and one for myself, and put the powders into his glass, and gave +it him. Had I known how could I have given them to him?" + +"Well, and how did the ring come into your possession?" asked the +president. "When did he give it you?" + +"That was when we came back to his lodgings. I wanted to go away, +and he gave me a knock on the head and broke my comb. I got angry +and said I'd go away, and he took the ring off his finger and +gave it to me so that I should not go," she said. + +Then the public prosecutor again slightly raised himself, and, +putting on an air of simplicity, asked permission to put a few +more questions, and, having received it, bending his head over +his embroidered collar, he said: "I should like to know how long +the prisoner remained in the merchant Smelkoff's room." + +Maslova again seemed frightened, and she again looked anxiously +from the public prosecutor to the president, and said hurriedly: + +"I do not remember how long." + +"Yes, but does the prisoner remember if she went anywhere else in +the lodging-house after she left Smelkoff?" + +Maslova considered for a moment. "Yes, I did go into an empty +room next to his." + +"Yes, and why did you go in?" asked the public prosecutor, +forgetting himself, and addressing her directly. + +"I went in to rest a bit, and to wait for an isvostchik." + +"And was Kartinkin in the room with the prisoner, or not?" + +"He came in." + +"Why did he come in?" + +"There was some of the merchant's brandy left, and we finished it +together." + +"Oh, finished it together. Very well! And did the prisoner talk +to Kartinkin, and, if so, what about?" + +Maslova suddenly frowned, blushed very red, and said, hurriedly, +"What about? I did not talk about anything, and that's all I +know. Do what you like with me; I am not guilty, and that's all." + +"I have nothing more to ask," said the prosecutor, and, drawing +up his shoulders in an unnatural manner, began writing down, as +the prisoner's own evidence, in the notes for his speech, that +she had been in the empty room with Kartinkin. + +There was a short silence. + +"You have nothing more to say?" + +"I have told everything," she said, with a sigh, and sat down. + +Then the president noted something down, and, having listened to +something that the member on his left whispered to him, he +announced a ten-minutes' interval, rose hurriedly, and left the +court. The communication he had received from the tall, bearded +member with the kindly eyes was that the member, having felt a +slight stomach derangement, wished to do a little massage and to +take some drops. And this was why an interval was made. + +When the judges had risen, the advocates, the jury, and the +witnesses also rose, with the pleasant feeling that part of the +business was finished, and began moving in different directions. + +Nekhludoff went into the jury's room, and sat down by the window. + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +TWELVE YEARS BEFORE. + +"Yes, this was Katusha." + +The relations between Nekhludoff and Katusha had been the +following: + +Nekhludoff first saw Katusha when he was a student in his third +year at the University, and was preparing an essay on land tenure +during the summer vacation, which he passed with his aunts. Until +then he had always lived, in summer, with his mother and sister +on his mother's large estate near Moscow. But that year his +sister had married, and his mother had gone abroad to a +watering-place, and he, having his essay to write, resolved to +spend the summer with his aunts. It was very quiet in their +secluded estate and there was nothing to distract his mind; his +aunts loved their nephew and heir very tenderly, and he, too, was +fond of them and of their simple, old-fashioned life. + +During that summer on his aunts' estate, Nekhludoff passed +through that blissful state of existence when a young man for the +first time, without guidance from any one outside, realises all +the beauty and significance of life, and the importance of the +task allotted in it to man; when he grasps the possibility of +unlimited advance towards perfection for one's self and for all +the world, and gives himself to this task, not only hopefully, +but with full conviction of attaining to the perfection he +imagines. In that year, while still at the University, he had +read Spencer's Social Statics, and Spencer's views on landholding +especially impressed him, as he himself was heir to large +estates. His father had not been rich, but his mother had +received 10,000 acres of land for her dowry. At that time he +fully realised all the cruelty and injustice of private property +in land, and being one of those to whom a sacrifice to the +demands of conscience gives the highest spiritual enjoyment, he +decided not to retain property rights, but to give up to the +peasant labourers the land he had inherited from his father. It +was on this land question he wrote his essay. + +He arranged his life on his aunts' estate in the following +manner. He got up very early, sometimes at three o'clock, and +before sunrise went through the morning mists to bathe in the +river, under the hill. He returned while the dew still lay on the +grass and the flowers. Sometimes, having finished his coffee, he +sat down with his books of reference and his papers to write his +essay, but very often, instead of reading or writing, he left +home again, and wandered through the fields and the woods. Before +dinner he lay down and slept somewhere in the garden. At dinner +he amused and entertained his aunts with his bright spirits, then +he rode on horseback or went for a row on the river, and in the +evening he again worked at his essay, or sat reading or playing +patience with his aunts. + +His joy in life was so great that it agitated him, and kept him +awake many a night, especially when it was moonlight, so that +instead of sleeping he wandered about in the garden till dawn, +alone with his dreams and fancies. + +And so, peacefully and happily, he lived through the first month +of his stay with his aunts, taking no particular notice of their +half-ward, half-servant, the black-eyed, quick-footed Katusha. +Then, at the age of nineteen, Nekhludoff, brought up under his +mother's wing, was still quite pure. If a woman figured in his +dreams at all it was only as a wife. All the other women, who, +according to his ideas he could not marry, were not women for +him, but human beings. + +But on Ascension Day that summer, a neighbour of his aunts', and +her family, consisting of two young daughters, a schoolboy, and a +young artist of peasant origin who was staying with them, came to +spend the day. After tea they all went to play in the meadow in +front of the house, where the grass had already been mown. They +played at the game of gorelki, and Katusha joined them. Running +about and changing partners several times, Nekhludoff caught +Katusha, and she became his partner. Up to this time he had liked +Katusha's looks, but the possibility of any nearer relations with +her had never entered his mind. + +"Impossible to catch those two," said the merry young artist, +whose turn it was to catch, and who could run very fast with his +short, muscular legs. + +"You! And not catch us?" said Katusha. + +"One, two, three," and the artist clapped his hands. Katusha, +hardly restraining her laughter, changed places with Nekhludoff, +behind the artist's back, and pressing his large hand with her +little rough one, and rustling with her starched petticoat, ran +to the left. Nekhludoff ran fast to the right, trying to escape +from the artist, but when he looked round he saw the artist +running after Katusha, who kept well ahead, her firm young legs +moving rapidly. There was a lilac bush in front of them, and +Katusha made a sign with her head to Nekhludoff to join her +behind it, for if they once clasped hands again they were safe +from their pursuer, that being a rule of the game. He understood +the sign, and ran behind the bush, but he did not know that there +was a small ditch overgrown with nettles there. He stumbled and +fell into the nettles, already wet with dew, stinging his bands, +but rose immediately, laughing at his mishap. + +Katusha, with her eyes black as sloes, her face radiant with joy, +was flying towards him, and they caught hold of each other's +hands. + +"Got stung, I daresay?" she said, arranging her hair with her +free hand, breathing fast and looking straight up at him with a +glad, pleasant smile. + +"I did not know there was a ditch here," he answered, smiling +also, and keeping her hand in his. She drew nearer to him, and he +himself, not knowing how it happened, stooped towards her. She +did not move away, and he pressed her hand tight and kissed her +on the lips. + +"There! You've done it!" she said; and, freeing her hand with a +swift movement, ran away from him. Then, breaking two branches of +white lilac from which the blossoms were already falling, she +began fanning her hot face with them; then, with her head turned +back to him, she walked away, swaying her arms briskly in front +of her, and joined the other players. + +After this there grew up between Nekhludoff and Katusha those +peculiar relations which often exist between a pure young man and +girl who are attracted to each other. + +When Katusha came into the room, or even when he saw her white +apron from afar, everything brightened up in Nekhludoff's eyes, +as when the sun appears everything becomes more interesting, more +joyful, more important. The whole of life seemed full of +gladness. And she felt the same. But it was not only Katusha's +presence that had this effect on Nekhludoff. The mere thought +that Katusha existed (and for her that Nekhludoff existed) had +this effect. + +When he received an unpleasant letter from his mother, or could +not get on with his essay, or felt the unreasoning sadness that +young people are often subject to, he had only to remember +Katusha and that he should see her, and it all vanished. Katusha +had much work to do in the house, but she managed to get a little +leisure for reading, and Nekhludoff gave her Dostoievsky and +Tourgeneff (whom he had just read himself) to read. She liked +Tourgeneff's Lull best. They had talks at moments snatched when +meeting in the passage, on the veranda, or the yard, and +sometimes in the room of his aunts' old servant, Matrona +Pavlovna, with whom he sometimes used to drink tea, and where +Katusha used to work. + +These talks in Matrona Pavlovna's presence were the pleasantest. +When they were alone it was worse. Their eyes at once began to +say something very different and far more important than what +their mouths uttered. Their lips puckered, and they felt a kind +of dread of something that made them part quickly. These +relations continued between Nekhludoff and Katusha during the +whole time of his first visit to his aunts'. They noticed it, and +became frightened, and even wrote to Princess Elena Ivanovna, +Nekhludoff's mother. His aunt, Mary Ivanovna, was afraid Dmitri +would form an intimacy with Katusha; but her fears were +groundless, for Nekhludoff, himself hardly conscious of it, loved +Katusha, loved her as the pure love, and therein lay his +safety--his and hers. He not only did not feel any desire to +possess her, but the very thought of it filled him with horror. +The fears of the more poetical Sophia Ivanovna, that Dmitri, with +his thoroughgoing, resolute character, having fallen in love with +a girl, might make up his mind to marry her, without considering +either her birth or her station, had more ground. + +Had Nekhludoff at that time been conscious of his love for +Katusha, and especially if he had been told that he could on no +account join his life with that of a girl in her position, it +might have easily happened that, with his usual straight- +forwardness, he would have come to the conclusion that there +could be no possible reason for him not to marry any girl +whatever, as long as he loved her. But his aunts did not +mention their fears to him; and, when he left, he was still +unconscious of his love for Katusha. He was sure that what he +felt for Katusha was only one of the manifestations of the joy of +life that filled his whole being, and that this sweet, merry +little girl shared this joy with him. Yet, when he was going +away, and Katusha stood with his aunts in the porch, and looked +after him, her dark, slightly-squinting eyes filled with tears, +he felt, after all, that he was leaving something beautiful, +precious, something which would never reoccur. And he grew very +sad. + +"Good-bye, Katusha," he said, looking across Sophia Ivanovna's +cap as he was getting into the trap. "Thank you for everything." + +"Good-bye, Dmitri Ivanovitch," she said, with her pleasant, +tender voice, keeping back the tears that filled her eyes--and +ran away into the hall, where she could cry in peace. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +LIFE IN THE ARMY. + +After that Nekhludoff did not see Katusha for more than three +years. When he saw her again he had just been promoted to the +rank of officer and was going to join his regiment. On the way he +came to spend a few days with his aunts, being now a very +different young man from the one who had spent the summer with +them three years before. He then had been an honest, unselfish +lad, ready to sacrifice himself for any good cause; now he was +depraved and selfish, and thought only of his own enjoyment. Then +God's world seemed a mystery which he tried enthusiastically and +joyfully to solve; now everything in life seemed clear and +simple, defined by the conditions of the life he was leading. +Then he had felt the importance of, and had need of intercourse +with, nature, and with those who had lived and thought and felt +before him--philosophers and poets. What he now considered +necessary and important were human institutions and intercourse +with his comrades. Then women seemed mysterious and +charming--charming by the very mystery that enveloped them; now +the purpose of women, all women except those of his own family +and the wives of his friends, was a very definite one: women were +the best means towards an already experienced enjoyment. Then +money was not needed, and he did not require even one-third of +what his mother allowed him; but now this allowance of 1,500 +roubles a month did not suffice, and he had already had some +unpleasant talks about it with his mother. + +Then he had looked on his spirit as the I; now it was his healthy +strong animal I that he looked upon as himself. + +And all this terrible change had come about because he had ceased +to believe himself and had taken to believing others. This he had +done because it was too difficult to live believing one's self; +believing one's self, one had to decide every question not in +favour of one's own animal life, which is always seeking for easy +gratifications, but almost in every case against it. Believing +others there was nothing to decide; everything had been decided +already, and decided always in favour of the animal I and against +the spiritual. Nor was this all. Believing in his own self he was +always exposing himself to the censure of those around him; +believing others he had their approval. So, when Nekhludoff had +talked of the serious matters of life, of God, truth, riches, and +poverty, all round him thought it out of place and even rather +funny, and his mother and aunts called him, with kindly irony, +notre cher philosophe. But when he read novels, told improper +anecdotes, went to see funny vaudevilles in the French theatre +and gaily repeated the jokes, everybody admired and encouraged +him. When he considered it right to limit his needs, wore an old +overcoat, took no wine, everybody thought it strange and looked +upon it as a kind of showing off; but when he spent large sums on +hunting, or on furnishing a peculiar and luxurious study for +himself, everybody admired his taste and gave him expensive +presents to encourage his hobby. While he kept pure and meant to +remain so till he married his friends prayed for his health, and +even his mother was not grieved but rather pleased when she found +out that he had become a real man and had gained over some French +woman from his friend. (As to the episode with Katusha, the +princess could not without horror think that he might possibly +have married her.) In the same way, when Nekhludoff came of age, +and gave the small estate he had inherited from his father to the +peasants because he considered the holding of private property in +land wrong, this step filled his mother and relations with dismay +and served as an excuse for making fun of him to all his +relatives. He was continually told that these peasants, after +they had received the land, got no richer, but, on the contrary, +poorer, having opened three public-houses and left off doing any +work. But when Nekhludoff entered the Guards and spent and +gambled away so much with his aristocratic companions that Elena +Ivanovna, his mother, had to draw on her capital, she was hardly +pained, considering it quite natural and even good that wild oats +should be sown at an early age and in good company, as her son +was doing. At first Nekhludoff struggled, but all that he had +considered good while he had faith in himself was considered bad +by others, and what he had considered evil was looked upon as +good by those among whom he lived, and the struggle grew too +hard. And at last Nekhludoff gave in, i.e., left off believing +himself and began believing others. At first this giving up of +faith in himself was unpleasant, but it did not long continue to +be so. At that time he acquired the habit of smoking, and +drinking wine, and soon got over this unpleasant feeling and even +felt great relief. + +Nekhludoff, with his passionate nature, gave himself thoroughly +to the new way of life so approved of by all those around, and he +entirely stifled the inner voice which demanded something +different. This began after he moved to St. Petersburg, and +reached its highest point when he entered the army. + +Military life in general depraves men. It places them in +conditions of complete idleness, i.e., absence of all useful +work; frees them of their common human duties, which it replaces +by merely conventional ones to the honour of the regiment, the +uniform, the flag; and, while giving them on the one hand +absolute power over other men, also puts them into conditions of +servile obedience to those of higher rank than themselves. + +But when, to the usual depraving influence of military service +with its honours, uniforms, flags, its permitted violence and +murder, there is added the depraving influence of riches and +nearness to and intercourse with members of the Imperial family, +as is the case in the chosen regiment of the Guards in which all +the officers are rich and of good family, then this depraving +influence creates in the men who succumb to it a perfect mania of +selfishness. And this mania of selfishness attacked Nekhludoff +from the moment he entered the army and began living in the way +his companions lived. He had no occupation whatever except to +dress in a uniform, splendidly made and well brushed by other +people, and, with arms also made and cleaned and handed to him by +others, ride to reviews on a fine horse which had been bred, +broken in and fed by others. There, with other men like himself, +he had to wave a sword, shoot off guns, and teach others to do +the same. He had no other work, and the highly-placed persons, +young and old, the Tsar and those near him, not only sanctioned +his occupation but praised and thanked him for it. + +After this was done, it was thought important to eat, and +particularly to drink, in officers' clubs or the salons of the +best restaurants, squandering large sums of money, which came +from some invisible source; then theatres, ballets, women, then +again riding on horseback, waving of swords and shooting, and +again the squandering of money, the wine, cards, and women. This +kind of life acts on military men even more depravingly than on +others, because if any other than a military man lead such a life +he cannot help being ashamed of it in the depth of his heart. A +military man is, on the contrary, proud of a life of this kind +especially at war time, and Nekhludoff had entered the army just +after war with the Turks had been declared. "We are prepared to +sacrifice our lives at the wars, and therefore a gay, reckless +life is not only pardonable, but absolutely necessary for us, and +so we lead it." + +Such were Nekhludoff's confused thoughts at this period of his +existence, and he felt all the time the delight of being free of +the moral barriers he had formerly set himself. And the state he +lived in was that of a chronic mania of selfishness. He was in +this state when, after three years' absence, he came again to +visit his aunts. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE SECOND MEETING WITH MASLOVA. + +Nekhludoff went to visit his aunts because their estate lay near +the road he had to travel in order to join his regiment, which +had gone forward, because they had very warmly asked him to come, +and especially because he wanted to see Katusha. Perhaps in his +heart he had already formed those evil designs against Katusha +which his now uncontrolled animal self suggested to him, but he +did not acknowledge this as his intention, but only wished to go +back to the spot where he had been so happy, to see his rather +funny, but dear, kind-hearted old aunts, who always, without his +noticing it, surrounded him with an atmosphere of love and +admiration, and to see sweet Katusha, of whom he had retained so +pleasant a memory. + +He arrived at the end of March, on Good Friday, after the thaw +had set in. It was pouring with rain so that he had not a dry +thread on him and was feeling very cold, but yet vigorous and +full of spirits, as always at that time. "Is she still with +them?" he thought, as he drove into the familiar, old-fashioned +courtyard, surrounded by a low brick wall, and now filled with +snow off the roofs. + +He expected she would come out when she heard the sledge bells +but she did not. Two bare-footed women with pails and tucked-up +skirts, who had evidently been scrubbing the floors, came out of +the side door. She was not at the front door either, and only +Tikhon, the man-servant, with his apron on, evidently also busy +cleaning, came out into the front porch. His aunt Sophia Ivanovna +alone met him in the ante-room; she had a silk dress on and a cap +on her head. Both aunts had been to church and had received +communion. + +"Well, this is nice of you to come," said Sophia Ivanovna, +kissing him. "Mary is not well, got tired in church; we have been +to communion." + +"I congratulate you, Aunt Sophia," [it is usual in Russia to +congratulate those who have received communion] said Nekhludoff, +kissing Sophia Ivanovna's hand. "Oh, I beg your pardon, I have +made you wet." + +"Go to your room--why you are soaking wet. Dear me, you have got +moustaches! . . . Katusha! Katusha! Get him some coffee; be +quick." + +"Directly," came the sound of a well-known, pleasant voice from +the passage, and Nekhludoff's heart cried out "She's here!" and +it was as if the sun had come out from behind the clouds. + +Nekhludoff, followed by Tikhon, went gaily to his old room to +change his things. He felt inclined to ask Tikhon about Katusha; +how she was, what she was doing, was she not going to be married? +But Tikhon was so respectful and at the same time so severe, +insisted so firmly on pouring the water out of the jug for him, +that Nekhludoff could not make up his mind to ask him about +Katusha, but only inquired about Tikhon's grandsons, about the +old so-called "brother's" horse, and about the dog Polkan. All +were alive except Polkan, who had gone mad the summer before. + +When he had taken off all his wet things and just begun to dress +again, Nekhludoff heard quick, familiar footsteps and a knock at +the door. Nekhludoff knew the steps and also the knock. No one +but she walked and knocked like that. + +Having thrown his wet greatcoat over his shoulders, he opened the +door. + +"Come in." It was she, Katusha, the same, only sweeter than +before. The slightly squinting naive black eyes looked up in the +same old way. Now as then, she had on a white apron. She brought +him from his aunts a piece of scented soap, with the wrapper just +taken off, and two towels--one a long Russian embroidered one, +the other a bath towel. The unused soap with the stamped +inscription, the towels, and her own self, all were equally +clean, fresh, undefiled and pleasant. The irrepressible smile of +joy at the sight of him made the sweet, firm lips pucker up as of +old. + +"How do you do, Dmitri Ivanovitch?" she uttered with difficulty, +her face suffused with a rosy blush. + +"Good-morning! How do you do?" he said, also blushing. "Alive and +well?" + +"Yes, the Lord be thanked. And here is your favorite pink soap and +towels from your aunts," she said, putting the soap on the table +and hanging the towels over the back of a chair. + +"There is everything here," said Tikhon, defending the visitor's +independence, and pointing to Nekhludoff's open dressing case +filled with brushes, perfume, fixatoire, a great many bottles +with silver lids and all sorts of toilet appliances. + +"Thank my aunts, please. Oh, how glad I am to be here," said +Nekhludoff, his heart filling with light and tenderness as of +old. + +She only smiled in answer to these words, and went out. The +aunts, who had always loved Nekhludoff, welcomed him this time +more warmly than ever. Dmitri was going to the war, where he +might be wounded or killed, and this touched the old aunts. +Nekhludoff had arranged to stay only a day and night with his +aunts, but when he had seen Katusha he agreed to stay over Easter +with them and telegraphed to his friend Schonbock, whom he was to +have joined in Odessa, that he should come and meet him at his +aunts' instead. + +As soon as he had seen Katusha Nekhludoff's old feelings toward +her awoke again. Now, just as then, he could not see her white +apron without getting excited; he could not listen to her steps, +her voice, her laugh, without a feeling of joy; he could not look +at her eyes, black as sloes, without a feeling of tenderness, +especially when she smiled; and, above all, he could not notice +without agitation how she blushed when they met. He felt he was +in love, but not as before, when this love was a kind of mystery +to him and he would not own, even to himself, that he loved, and +when he was persuaded that one could love only once; now he knew +he was in love and was glad of it, and knew dimly what this love +consisted of and what it might lead to, though he sought to +conceal it even from himself. In Nekhludoff, as in every man, +there were two beings: one the spiritual, seeking only that kind +of happiness for him self which should tend towards the happiness +of all; the other, the animal man, seeking only his own +happiness, and ready to sacrifice to it the happiness of the rest +of the world. At this period of his mania of self-love brought on +by life in Petersburg and in the army, this animal man ruled +supreme and completely crushed the spiritual man in him. + +But when he saw Katusha and experienced the same feelings as he +had had three years before, the spiritual man in him raised its +head once more and began to assert its rights. And up to Easter, +during two whole days, an unconscious, ceaseless inner struggle +went on in him. + +He knew in the depths of his soul that he ought to go away, that +there was no real reason for staying on with his aunts, knew that +no good could come of it; and yet it was so pleasant, so +delightful, that he did not honestly acknowledge the facts to +himself and stayed on. On Easter eve, the priest and the deacon +who came to the house to say mass had had (so they said) the +greatest difficulty in getting over the three miles that lay +between the church and the old ladies' house, coming across the +puddles and the bare earth in a sledge. + +Nekhludoff attended the mass with his aunts and the servants, and +kept looking at Katusha, who was near the door and brought in the +censers for the priests. Then having given the priests and his +aunts the Easter kiss, though it was not midnight and therefore +not Easter yet, he was already going to bed when he heard the old +servant Matrona Pavlovna preparing to go to the church to get the +koulitch and paski [Easter cakes] blest after the midnight +service. "I shall go too," he thought. + +The road to the church was impassable either in a sledge or on +wheels, so Nekhludoff, who behaved in his aunts' house just as he +did at home, ordered the old horse, "the brother's horse," to be +saddled, and instead of going to bed he put on his gay uniform, a +pair of tight-fitting riding breeches and his overcoat, and got +on the old over-fed and heavy horse, which neighed continually +all the way as he rode in the dark through the puddles and snow +to the church. + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE EARLY MASS. + +For Nekhludoff this early mass remained for ever after one of the +brightest and most vivid memories of his life. When he rode out +of the darkness, broken only here and there by patches of white +snow, into the churchyard illuminated by a row of lamps around +the church, the service had already begun. + +The peasants, recognising Mary Ivanovna's nephew, led his horse, +which was pricking up its ears at the sight of the lights, to a +dry place where he could get off, put it up for him, and showed +him into the church, which was full of people. On the right stood +the peasants; the old men in home-spun coats, and clean white +linen bands [long strips of linen are worn by the peasants instead +of stockings] wrapped round their legs, the young men in new +cloth coats, bright-coloured belts round their waists, and +top-boots. + +On the left stood the women, with red silk kerchiefs on their +heads, black velveteen sleeveless jackets, bright red +shirt-sleeves, gay-coloured green, blue, and red skirts, and +thick leather boots. The old women, dressed more quietly, stood +behind them, with white kerchiefs, homespun coats, old-fashioned +skirts of dark home-spun material, and shoes on their feet. +Gaily-dressed children, their hair well oiled, went in and out +among them. + +The men, making the sign of the cross, bowed down and raised +their heads again, shaking back their hair. + +The women, especially the old ones, fixed their eyes on an icon +surrounded with candies and made the sign of the cross, firmly +pressing their folded fingers to the kerchief on their foreheads, +to their shoulders, and their stomachs, and, whispering +something, stooped or knelt down. The children, imitating the +grown-up people, prayed earnestly when they knew that they were +being observed. The gilt case containing the icon glittered, +illuminated on all sides by tall candles ornamented with golden +spirals. The candelabra was filled with tapers, and from the +choir sounded most merry tunes sung by amateur choristers, with +bellowing bass and shrill boys' voices among them. + +Nekhludoff passed up to the front. In the middle of the church +stood the aristocracy of the place: a landed proprietor, with his +wife and son (the latter dressed in a sailor's suit), the police +officer, the telegraph clerk, a tradesman in top-boots, and the +village elder, with a medal on his breast; and to the right of +the ambo, just behind the landed proprietor's wife, stood Matrona +Pavlovna in a lilac dress and fringed shawl and Katusha in a +white dress with a tucked bodice, blue sash, and red bow in her +black hair. + +Everything seemed festive, solemn, bright, and beautiful: the +priest in his silver cloth vestments with gold crosses; the +deacon, the clerk and chanter in their silver and gold surplices; +the amateur choristers in their best clothes, with their +well-oiled hair; the merry tunes of the holiday hymns that +sounded like dance music; and the continual blessing of the +people by the priests, who held candles decorated with flowers, +and repeated the cry of "Christ is risen!" "Christ is risen!" All +was beautiful; but, above all, Katusha, in her white dress, blue +sash, and the red bow on her black head, her eyes beaming with +rapture. + +Nekhludoff knew that she felt his presence without looking at +him. He noticed this as he passed her, walking up to the altar. +He had nothing to tell her, but he invented something to say and +whispered as he passed her: "Aunt told me that she would break +her fast after the late mass." The young blood rushed up to +Katusha's sweet face, as it always did when she looked at him. +The black eyes, laughing and full of joy, gazed naively up and +remained fixed on Nekhludoff. + +"I know," she said, with a smile. + +At this moment the clerk was going out with a copper coffee-pot +[coffee-pots are often used for holding holy water in Russia] of +holy water in his hand, and, not noticing Katusha, brushed her +with his surplice. Evidently he brushed against Katusha through +wishing to pass Nekhludoff at a respectful distance, and +Nekhludoff was surprised that he, the clerk, did not understand +that everything here, yes, and in all the world, only existed for +Katusha, and that everything else might remain unheeded, only not +she, because she was the centre of all. For her the gold +glittered round the icons; for her all these candles in +candelabra and candlesticks were alight; for her were sung these +joyful hymns, "Behold the Passover of the Lord" "Rejoice, O ye +people!" All--all that was good in the world was for her. And it +seemed to him that Katusha was aware that it was all for her when +he looked at her well-shaped figure, the tucked white dress, the +wrapt, joyous expression of her face, by which he knew that just +exactly the same that was singing in his own soul was also +singing in hers. + +In the interval between the early and the late mass Nekhludoff +left the church. The people stood aside to let him pass, and +bowed. Some knew him; others asked who he was. + +He stopped on the steps. The beggars standing there came +clamouring round him, and he gave them all the change he had in +his purse and went down. It was dawning, but the sun had not yet +risen. The people grouped round the graves in the churchyard. +Katusha had remained inside. Nekhludoff stood waiting for her. + +The people continued coming out, clattering with their nailed +boots on the stone steps and dispersing over the churchyard. A +very old man with shaking head, his aunts' cook, stopped +Nekhludoff in order to give him the Easter kiss, his old wife +took an egg, dyed yellow, out of her handkerchief and gave it to +Nekhludoff, and a smiling young peasant in a new coat and green +belt also came up. + +"Christ is risen," he said, with laughing eyes, and coming close +to Nekhludoff he enveloped him in his peculiar but pleasant +peasant smell, and, tickling him with his curly beard, kissed him +three times straight on the mouth with his firm, fresh lips. + +While the peasant was kissing Nekhludoff and giving him a dark +brown egg, the lilac dress of Matrona Pavlovna and the dear black +head with the red bow appeared. + +Katusha caught sight of him over the heads of those in front of +her, and he saw how her face brightened up. + +She had come out with Matrona Pavlovna on to the porch, and +stopped there distributing alms to the beggars. A beggar with a +red scab in place of a nose came up to Katusha. She gave him +something, drew nearer him, and, evincing no sign of disgust, but +her eyes still shining with joy, kissed him three times. And +while she was doing this her eyes met Nekhludoff's with a look as +if she were asking, "Is this that I am doing right?" "Yes, dear, +yes, it is right; everything is right, everything is beautiful. I +love!" + +They came down the steps of the porch, and he came up to them. + +He did not mean to give them the Easter kiss, but only to be +nearer to her. Matrona Pavlovna bowed her head, and said with a +smile, "Christ is risen!" and her tone implied, "To-day we are +all equal." She wiped her mouth with her handkerchief rolled into +a ball and stretched her lips towards him. + +"He is, indeed," answered Nekhludoff, kissing her. Then he looked +at Katusha; she blushed, and drew nearer. "Christ is risen, +Dmitri Ivanovitch." "He is risen, indeed," answered Nekhludoff, +and they kissed twice, then paused as if considering whether a +third kiss were necessary, and, having decided that it was, +kissed a third time and smiled. + +"You are going to the priests?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"No, we shall sit out here a bit, Dmitri Ivanovitch," said +Katusha with effort, as if she had accomplished some joyous task, +and, her whole chest heaving with a deep sigh, she looked +straight in his face with a look of devotion, virgin purity, and +love, in her very slightly squinting eyes. + +In the love between a man and a woman there always comes a moment +when this love has reached its zenith--a moment when it is +unconscious, unreasoning, and with nothing sensual about it. Such +a moment had come for Nekhludoff on that Easter eve. When he +brought Katusha back to his mind, now, this moment veiled all +else; the smooth glossy black head, the white tucked dress +closely fitting her graceful maidenly form, her, as yet, +un-developed bosom, the blushing cheeks, the tender shining black +eyes with their slight squint heightened by the sleepless night, +and her whole being stamped with those two marked features, +purity and chaste love, love not only for him (he knew that), but +for everybody and everything, not for the good alone, but for all +that is in the world, even for that beggar whom she had kissed. + +He knew she had that love in her because on that night and +morning he was conscious of it in himself, and conscious that in +this love he became one with her. Ah! if it had all stopped +there, at the point it had reached that night. "Yes, all that +horrible business had not yet happened on that Easter eve!" he +thought, as he sat by the window of the jurymen's room. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +THE FIRST STEP. + +When he returned from church Nekhludoff broke the fast with his +aunts and took a glass of spirits and some wine, having got into +that habit while with his regiment, and when he reached his room +fell asleep at once, dressed as he was. He was awakened by a +knock at the door. He knew it was her knock, and got up, rubbing +his eyes and stretching himself. + +"Katusha, is it you? Come in," said he. + +She opened the door. + +"Dinner is ready," she said. She still had on the same white +dress, but not the bow in her hair. She looked at him with a +smile, as if she had communicated some very good news to him. + +"I am coming," he answered, as he rose, taking his comb to +arrange his hair. + +She stood still for a minute, and he, noticing it, threw down his +comb and made a step towards her, but at that very moment she +turned suddenly and went with quick light steps along the strip +of carpet in the middle of the passage. + +"Dear me, what a fool I am," thought Nekhludoff. "Why did I not +stop her?" What he wanted her for he did not know himself, but he +felt that when she came into his room something should have been +done, something that is generally done on such occasions, and +that he had left it undone. + +"Katusha, wait," he said. + +"What do you want?" she said, stopping. + +"Nothing, only--" and, with an effort, remembering how men in his +position generally behave, he put his arm round her waist. + +She stood still and looked into his eyes. + +"Don't, Dmitri Ivanovitch, you must not," she said, blushing to +tears and pushing away his arm with her strong hard hand. +Nekhludoff let her go, and for a moment he felt not only confused +and ashamed but disgusted with himself. He should now have +believed himself, and then he would have known that this +confusion and shame were caused by the best feelings of his soul +demanding to be set free; but he thought it was only his +stupidity and that he ought to behave as every one else did. He +caught her up and kissed her on the neck. + +This kiss was very different from that first thoughtless kiss +behind the lilac bush, and very different to the kiss this +morning in the churchyard. This was a dreadful kiss, and she felt +it. + +"Oh, what are you doing?" she cried, in a tone as if he had +irreparably broken something of priceless value, and ran quickly +away. + +He came into the dining-room. His aunts, elegantly dressed, their +family doctor, and a neighbour were already there. Everything +seemed so very ordinary, but in Nekhludoff a storm was raging. He +understood nothing of what was being said and gave wrong answers, +thinking only of Katusha. The sound of her steps in the passage +brought back the thrill of that last kiss and he could think of +nothing else. When she came into the room he, without looking +round, felt her presence with his whole being and had to force +himself not to look at her. + +After dinner he at once went into his bedroom and for a long time +walked up and down in great excitement, listening to every sound +in the house and expecting to hear her steps. The animal man +inside him had now not only lifted its head, but had succeeded in +trampling under foot the spiritual man of the days of his first +visit, and even of that every morning. That dreadful animal man +alone now ruled over him. + +Though he was watching for her all day he could not manage to +meet her alone. She was probably trying to evade him. In the +evening, however, she was obliged to go into the room next to +his. The doctor had been asked to stay the night, and she had to +make his bed. When he heard her go in Nekhludoff followed her, +treading softly and holding his breath as if he were going to +commit a crime. + +She was putting a clean pillow-case on the pillow, holding it by +two of its corners with her arms inside the pillow-case. She +turned round and smiled, not a happy, joyful smile as before, but +in a frightened, piteous way. The smile seemed to tell him that +what he was doing was wrong. He stopped for a moment. There was +still the possibility of a struggle. The voice of his real love +for her, though feebly, was still speaking of her, her feelings, +her life. Another voice was saying, "Take care I don't let the +opportunity for your own happiness, your own enjoyment, slip by!" +And this second voice completely stifled the first. He went up to +her with determination and a terrible, ungovernable animal +passion took possession of him. + +With his arm round he made her sit down on the bed; and feeling +that there was something more to be done he sat down beside her. + +"Dmitri Ivanovitch, dear! please let me go," she said, with a +piteous voice. "Matrona Pavlovna is coming," she cried, tearing +herself away. Some one was really coming to the door. + +"Well, then, I'll come to you in the night," he whispered. +"You'll be alone?" + +"What are you thinking of? On no account. No, no!" she said, but +only with her lips; the tremulous confusion of her whole being +said something very different. + +It was Matrona Pavlovna who had come to the door. She came in +with a blanket over her arm, looked reproachfully at Nekhludoff, +and began scolding Katusha for having taken the wrong blanket. + +Nekhludoff went out in silence, but he did not even feel ashamed. +He could see by Matrona Pavlovna's face that she was blaming him, +he knew that she was blaming him with reason and felt that he was +doing wrong, but this novel, low animal excitement, having freed +itself of all the old feelings of real love for Katusha, ruled +supreme, leaving room for nothing else. He went about as if +demented all the evening, now into his aunts', then back into his +own room, then out into the porch, thinking all the time how he +could meet her alone; but she avoided him, and Matrona Pavlovna +watched her closely. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +NEKHLUDOFF AND KATUSHA. + +And so the evening passed and night came. The doctor went to bed. +Nekhludoff's aunts had also retired, and he knew that Matrona +Pavlovna was now with them in their bedroom so that Katusha was +sure to be alone in the maids' sitting-room. He again went out +into the porch. It was dark, damp and warm out of doors, and that +white spring mist which drives away the last snow, or is diffused +by the thawing of the last snow, filled the air. From the river +under the hill, about a hundred steps from the front door, came a +strange sound. It was the ice breaking. Nekhludoff came down the +steps and went up to the window of the maids' room, stepping over +the puddles on the bits of glazed snow. His heart was beating so +fiercely in his breast that he seemed to hear it, his laboured +breath came and went in a burst of long-drawn sighs. In the +maids' room a small lamp was burning, and Katusha sat alone by +the table, looking thoughtfully in front of her. Nekhludoff stood +a long time without moving and waited to see what she, not +knowing that she was observed, would do. For a minute or two she +did not move; then she lifted her eyes, smiled and shook her head +as if chiding herself, then changed her pose and dropped both her +arms on the table and again began gazing down in front of her. He +stood and looked at her, involuntarily listening to the beating +of his own heart and the strange sounds from the river. There on +the river, beneath the white mist, the unceasing labour went on, +and sounds as of something sobbing, cracking, dropping, being +shattered to pieces mixed with the tinkling of the thin bits of +ice as they broke against each other like glass. + +There he stood, looking at Katusha's serious, suffering face, +which betrayed the inner struggle of her soul, and he felt pity +for her; but, strange though it may seem, this pity only +confirmed him in his evil intention. + +He knocked at the window. She started as if she had received an +electric shock, her whole body trembled, and a look of horror +came into her face. Then she jumped up, approached the window and +brought her face up to the pane. The look of terror did not leave +her face even when, holding her hands up to her eyes like +blinkers and peering through the glass, she recognised him. Her +face was unusually grave; he had never seen it so before. She +returned his smile, but only in submission to him; there was no +smile in her soul, only fear. He beckoned her with his hand to +come out into the yard to him. But she shook her head and +remained by the window. He brought his face close to the pane and +was going to call out to her, but at that moment she turned to +the door; evidently some one inside had called her. Nekhludoff +moved away from the window. The fog was so dense that five steps +from the house the windows could not be seen, but the light from +the lamp shone red and huge out of a shapeless black mass. And on +the river the same strange sounds went on, sobbing and rustling +and cracking and tinkling. Somewhere in the fog, not far off, a +cock crowed; another answered, and then others, far in the +village took up the cry till the sound of the crowing blended +into one, while all around was silent excepting the river. It was +the second time the cocks crowed that night. + +Nekhludoff walked up and down behind the corner of the house, and +once or twice got into a puddle. Then again came up to the +window. The lamp was still burning, and she was again sitting +alone by the table as if uncertain what to do. He had hardly +approached the window when she looked up. He knocked. Without +looking who it was she at once ran out of the room, and he heard +the outside door open with a snap. He waited for her near the +side porch and put his arms round her without saying a word. She +clung to him, put up her face, and met his kiss with her lips. +Then the door again gave the same sort of snap and opened, and +the voice of Matrona Pavlovna called out angrily, "Katusha!" + +She tore herself away from him and returned into the maids' room. +He heard the latch click, and then all was quiet. The red light +disappeared and only the mist remained, and the bustle on the +river went on. Nekhludoff went up to the window, nobody was to be +seen; he knocked, but got no answer. He went back into the house +by the front door, but could not sleep. He got up and went with +bare feet along the passage to her door, next to Matrona Pavlovna's +room. He heard Matrona Pavlovna snoring quietly, and was about to +go on when she coughed and turned on her creaking bed, and his +heart fell, and he stood immovable for about five minutes. When +all was quiet and she began to snore peacefully again, he went +on, trying to step on the boards that did not creak, and came to +Katusha's door. There was no sound to be heard. She was probably +awake, or else he would have heard her breathing. But as soon as +he had whispered "Katusha" she jumped up and began to persuade +him, as if angrily, to go away. + +"Open! Let me in just for a moment! I implore you!" He hardly knew +what he was saying. + + * * * * * * * + +When she left him, trembling and silent, giving no answer to his +words, he again went out into the porch and stood trying to +understand the meaning of what had happened. + +It was getting lighter. From the river below the creaking and +tinkling and sobbing of the breaking ice came still louder and a +gurgling sound could now also be heard. The mist had begun to +sink, and from above it the waning moon dimly lighted up +something black and weird. + +"What was the meaning of it all? Was it a great joy or a great +misfortune that had befallen him?" he asked himself. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +AFTERWARDS. + +The next day the gay, handsome, and brilliant Schonbock joined +Nekhludoff at his aunts' house, and quite won their hearts by his +refined and amiable manner, his high spirits, his generosity, and +his affection for Dmitri. + +But though the old ladies admired his generosity it rather +perplexed them, for it seemed exaggerated. He gave a rouble to +some blind beggars who came to the gate, gave 15 roubles in tips +to the servants, and when Sophia Ivanovna's pet dog hurt his paw +and it bled, he tore his hemstitched cambric handkerchief into +strips (Sophia Ivanovna knew that such handkerchiefs cost at +least 15 roubles a dozen) and bandaged the dog's foot. The old +ladies had never met people of this kind, and did not know that +Schonbock owed 200,000 roubles which he was never going to pay, +and that therefore 25 roubles more or less did not matter a bit +to him. Schonbock stayed only one day, and he and Nekhludoff +both, left at night. They could not stay away from their regiment +any longer, for their leave was fully up. + +At the stage which Nekhludoff's selfish mania had now reached he +could think of nothing but himself. He was wondering whether his +conduct, if found out, would be blamed much or at all, but he did +not consider what Katusha was now going through, and what was +going to happen to her. + +He saw that Schonbock guessed his relations to her and this +flattered his vanity. + +"Ah, I see how it is you have taken such a sudden fancy to your +aunts that you have been living nearly a week with them," +Schonbock remarked when he had seen Katusha. "Well, I don't +wonder--should have done the same. She's charming." Nekhludoff +was also thinking that though it was a pity to go away before +having fully gratified the cravings of his love for her, yet the +absolute necessity of parting had its advantages because it put a +sudden stop to relations it would have been very difficult for +him to continue. Then he thought that he ought to give her some +money, not for her, not because she might need it, but because it +was the thing to do. + +So he gave her what seemed to him a liberal amount, considering +his and her station. On the day of his departure, after dinner, +he went out and waited for her at the side entrance. She flushed +up when she saw him and wished to pass by, directing his +attention to the open door of the maids' room by a look, but he +stopped her. + +"I have come to say good-bye," he said, crumbling in his hand an +envelope with a 100-rouble note inside. "There, I . . . " + +She guessed what he meant, knit her brows, and shaking her head +pushed his hand away. + +"Take it; oh, you must!" he stammered, and thrust the envelope +into the bib of her apron and ran back to his room, groaning and +frowning as if he had hurt himself. And for a long time he went +up and down writhing as in pain, and even stamping and groaning +aloud as he thought of this last scene. "But what else could I +have done? Is it not what happens to every one? And if every one +does the same . . . well I suppose it can't be helped." In this +way he tried to get peace of mind, but in vain. The recollection +of what had passed burned his conscience. In his soul--in the +very depths of his soul--he knew that he had acted in a base, +cruel, cowardly manner, and that the knowledge of this act of his +must prevent him, not only from finding fault with any one else, +but even from looking straight into other people's eyes; not to +mention the impossibility of considering himself a splendid, +noble, high-minded fellow, as he did and had to do to go on +living his life boldly and merrily. There was only one solution +of the problem--i.e., not to think about it. He succeeded in doing +so. The life he was now entering upon, the new surroundings, new +friends, the war, all helped him to forget. And the longer he +lived, the less he thought about it, until at last he forgot it +completely. + +Once only, when, after the war, he went to see his aunts in hopes +of meeting Katusha, and heard that soon after his last visit she +had left, and that his aunts had heard she had been confined +somewhere or other and had gone quite to the bad, his heart +ached. According to the time of her confinement, the child might +or might not have been his. His aunts said she had gone wrong, +that she had inherited her mother's depraved nature, and he was +pleased to hear this opinion of his aunts'. It seemed to acquit +him. At first he thought of trying to find her and her child, but +then, just because in the depths of his soul he felt so ashamed +and pained when thinking about her, he did not make the necessary +effort to find her, but tried to forget his sin again and ceased +to think about it. And now this strange coincidence brought it +all back to his memory, and demanded from him the acknowledgment +of the heartless, cruel cowardice which had made it possible for +him to live these nine years with such a sin on his conscience. +But he was still far from such an acknowledgment, and his only +fear was that everything might now be found out, and that she or +her advocate might recount it all and put him to shame before +every one present. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +THE TRIAL--RESUMPTION. + +In this state of mind Nekhludoff left the Court and went into the +jurymen's room. He sat by the window smoking all the while, and +hearing what was being said around him. + +The merry merchant seemed with all his heart to sympathise with +Smelkoff's way of spending his time. "There, old fellow, that was +something like! Real Siberian fashion! He knew what he was about, +no fear! That's the sort of wench for me." + +The foreman was stating his conviction, that in some way or other +the expert's conclusions were the important thing. Peter +Gerasimovitch was joking about something with the Jewish clerk, +and they burst out laughing. Nekhludoff answered all the +questions addressed to him in monosyllables and longed only to be +left in peace. + +When the usher, with his sideways gait, called the jury back to +the Court, Nekhludoff was seized with fear, as if he were not +going to judge, but to be judged. In the depth of his soul he +felt that he was a scoundrel, who ought to be ashamed to look +people in the face, yet, by sheer force of habit, he stepped on +to the platform in his usual self-possessed manner, and sat down, +crossing his legs and playing with his pince-nez. + +The prisoners had also been led out, and were now brought in +again. There were some new faces in the Court witnesses, and +Nekhludoff noticed that Maslova could not take her eyes off a +very fat woman who sat in the row in front of the grating, very +showily dressed in silk and velvet, a high hat with a large bow +on her head, and an elegant little reticule on her arm, which was +bare to the elbow. This was, as he subsequently found out, one of +the witnesses, the mistress of the establishment to which Maslova +had belonged. + +The examination of the witnesses commenced: they were asked their +names, religion, etc. Then, after some consultation as to whether +the witnesses were to be sworn in or not, the old priest came in +again, dragging his legs with difficulty, and, again arranging +the golden cross on his breast, swore the witnesses and the +expert in the same quiet manner, and with the same assurance that +he was doing something useful and important. + +The witnesses having been sworn, all but Kitaeva, the keeper of +the house, were led out again. She was asked what she knew about +this affair. Kitaeva nodded her head and the big hat at every +sentence and smiled affectedly. She gave a very full and +intelligent account, speaking with a strong German accent. First +of all, the hotel servant Simeon, whom she knew, came to her +establishment on behalf of a rich Siberian merchant, and she sent +Lubov back with him. After a time Lubov returned with the +merchant. The merchant was already somewhat intoxicated--she +smiled as she said this--and went on drinking and treating the +girls. He was short of money. He sent this same Lubov to his +lodgings. He had taken a "predilection" to her. She looked at the +prisoner as she said this. + +Nekhludoff thought he saw Maslova smile here, and this seemed +disgusting to him. A strange, indefinite feeling of loathing, +mingled with suffering, arose in him. + +"And what was your opinion of Maslova?" asked the blushing and +confused applicant for a judicial post, appointed to act as +Maslova's advocate. + +"Zee ferry pesht," answered Kitaeva. "Zee yoong voman is etucated +and elecant. She was prought up in a coot family and can reat +French. She tid have a trop too moch sometimes, put nefer forcot +herself. A ferry coot girl." + +Katusha looked at the woman, then suddenly turned her eyes on the +jury and fixed them on Nekhludoff, and her face grew serious and +even severe. One of her serious eyes squinted, and those two +strange eyes for some time gazed at Nekhludoff, who, in spite of +the terrors that seized him, could not take his look off these +squinting eyes, with their bright, clear whites. + +He thought of that dreadful night, with its mist, the ice +breaking on the river below, and when the waning moon, with horns +turned upwards, that had risen towards morning, lit up something +black and weird. These two black eyes now looking at him reminded +him of this weird, black something. "She has recognised me," he +thought, and Nekhludoff shrank as if expecting a blow. But she +had not recognised him. She sighed quietly and again looked at +the president. Nekhludoff also sighed. "Oh, if it would only get +on quicker," he thought. + +He now felt the same loathing and pity and vexation as when, out +shooting, he was obliged to kill a wounded bird. The wounded bird +struggles in the game bag. One is disgusted and yet feels pity, +and one is in a hurry to kill the bird and forget it. + +Such mixed feelings filled Nekhludoff's breast as he sat +listening to the examination of the witnesses. + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE TRIAL--THE MEDICAL REPORT. + +But, as if to spite him, the case dragged out to a great length. +After each witness had been examined separately and the expert +last of all, and a great number of useless questions had been +put, with the usual air of importance, by the public prosecutor +and by both advocates, the president invited the jury to examine +the objects offered as material evidence. They consisted of an +enormous diamond ring, which had evidently been worn on the first +finger, and a test tube in which the poison had been analysed. +These things had seals and labels attached to them. + +Just as the witnesses were about to look at these things, the +public prosecutor rose and demanded that before they did this the +results of the doctor's examination of the body should be read. +The president, who was hurrying the business through as fast as +he could in order to visit his Swiss friend, though he knew that +the reading of this paper could have no other effect than that of +producing weariness and putting off the dinner hour, and that the +public prosecutor wanted it read simply because he knew he had a +right to demand it, had no option but to express his consent. + +The secretary got out the doctor's report and again began to read +in his weary lisping voice, making no distinction between the +"r's" and "l's." + +The external examination proved that: + +"1. Theropont Smelkoff's height was six feet five inches. + +"Not so bad, that. A very good size," whispered the merchant, +with interest, into Nekhludoff's ear. + +2. He looked about 40 years of age. + +3. The body was of a swollen appearance. + +4. The flesh was of a greenish colour, with dark spots in several +places. + +5. The skin was raised in blisters of different sizes and in +places had come off in large pieces. + +6. The hair was chestnut; it was thick, and separated easily from +the skin when touched. + +7. The eye-balls protruded from their sockets and the cornea had +grown dim. + +8. Out of the nostrils, both ears, and the mouth oozed serous +liquid; the mouth was half open. + +9. The neck had almost disappeared, owing to the swelling of the +face and chest." + +And so on and so on. + +Four pages were covered with the 27 paragraphs describing all the +details of the external examination of the enormous, fat, +swollen, and decomposing body of the merchant who had been making +merry in the town. The indefinite loathing that Nekhludoff felt +was increased by the description of the corpse. Katusha's life, +and the scrum oozing from the nostrils of the corpse, and the +eyes that protruded out of their sockets, and his own treatment +of her--all seemed to belong to the same order of things, and he +felt surrounded and wholly absorbed by things of the same nature. + +When the reading of the report of the external examination was +ended, the president heaved a sigh and raised his hand, hoping it +was finished; but the secretary at once went on to the +description of the internal examination. The president's head +again dropped into his hand and he shut his eyes. The merchant +next to Nekhludoff could hardly keep awake, and now and then his +body swayed to and fro. The prisoners and the gendarmes sat +perfectly quiet. + +The internal examination showed that: + +"1. The skin was easily detachable from the bones of the skull, +and there was no coagulated blood. + +"2. The bones of the skull were of average thickness and in sound +condition. + +"3. On the membrane of the brain there were two discoloured +spots about four inches long, the membrane itself being of a dull +white." And so on for 13 paragraphs more. Then followed the names +and signatures of the assistants, and the doctor's conclusion +showing that the changes observed in the stomach, and to a lesser +degree in the bowels and kidneys, at the postmortem examination, +and described in the official report, gave great probability to +the conclusion that Smelkoff's death was caused by poison which +had entered his stomach mixed with alcohol. To decide from the +state of the stomach what poison had been introduced was +difficult; but it was necessary to suppose that the poison +entered the stomach mixed with alcohol, since a great quantity of +the latter was found in Smelkoff's stomach. + +"He could drink, and no mistake," again whispered the merchant, +who had just waked up. + +The reading of this report had taken a full hour, but it had not +satisfied the public prosecutor, for, when it had been read +through and the president turned to him, saying, "I suppose it is +superfluous to read the report of the examination of the internal +organs?" he answered in a severe tone, without looking at the +president, "I shall ask to have it read." + +He raised himself a little, and showed by his manner that he had +a right to have this report read, and would claim this right, and +that if that were not granted it would serve as a cause of +appeal. + +The member of the Court with the big beard, who suffered from +catarrh of the stomach, feeling quite done up, turned to the +president: + +"What is the use of reading all this? It is only dragging it out. +These new brooms do not sweep clean; they only take a long while +doing it." + +The member with the gold spectacles said nothing, but only looked +gloomily in front of him, expecting nothing good, either from his +wife or life in general. The reading of the report commenced. + +"In the year 188-, on February 15th, I, the undersigned, +commissioned by the medical department, made an examination, No. +638," the secretary began again with firmness and raising the +pitch of his voice as if to dispel the sleepiness that had +overtaken all present, "in the presence of the assistant medical +inspector, of the internal organs: + +"1. The right lung and the heart (contained in a 6-lb. glass +jar). + +"2. The contents of the stomach (in a 6-lb. glass jar). + +"3. The stomach itself (in a 6-lb. glass jar). + +"4. The liver, the spleen and the kidneys (in a 9-lb. glass jar). + +5. The intestines (in a 9-lb. earthenware jar)." + +The president here whispered to one of the members, then stooped +to the other, and having received their consent, he said: "The +Court considers the reading of this report superfluous." The +secretary stopped reading and folded the paper, and the public +prosecutor angrily began to write down something. "The gentlemen +of the jury may now examine the articles of material evidence," +said the president. The foreman and several of the others rose +and went to the table, not quite knowing what to do with their +hands. They looked in turn at the glass, the test tube, and the +ring. The merchant even tried on the ring. + +"Ah! that was a finger," he said, returning to his place; "like a +cucumber," he added. Evidently the image he had formed in his +mind of the gigantic merchant amused him. + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +THE TRIAL--THE PROSECUTOR AND THE ADVOCATES. + +When the examination of the articles of material evidence was +finished, the president announced that the investigation was now +concluded and immediately called on the prosecutor to proceed, +hoping that as the latter was also a man, he, too, might feel +inclined to smoke or dine, and show some mercy on the rest. But +the public prosecutor showed mercy neither to himself nor to any +one else. He was very stupid by nature, but, besides this, he had +had the misfortune of finishing school with a gold medal and of +receiving a reward for his essay on "Servitude" when studying +Roman Law at the University, and was therefore self-confident and +self-satisfied in the highest degree (his success with the ladies +also conducing to this) and his stupidity had become +extraordinary. + +When the word was given to him, he got up slowly, showing the +whole of his graceful figure in his embroidered uniform. Putting +his hand on the desk he looked round the room, slightly bowing +his head, and, avoiding the eyes of the prisoners, began to read +the speech he had prepared while the reports were being read. + +"Gentlemen of the jury! The business that now lies before you is, +if I may so express myself, very characteristic." + +The speech of a public prosecutor, according to his views, should +always have a social importance, like the celebrated speeches +made by the advocates who have become distinguished. True, the +audience consisted of three women--a semptress, a cook, and +Simeon's sister--and a coachman; but this did not matter. The +celebrities had begun in the same way. To be always at the height +of his position, i.e., to penetrate into the depths of the +psychological significance of crime and to discover the wounds of +society, was one of the prosecutor's principles. + +"You see before you, gentlemen of the jury, a crime +characteristic, if I may so express myself, of the end of our +century; bearing, so to say, the specific features of that very +painful phenomenon, the corruption to which those elements of our +present-day society, which are, so to say, particularly exposed +to the burning rays of this process, are subject." + +The public prosecutor spoke at great length, trying not to forget +any of the notions he had formed in his mind, and, on the other +hand, never to hesitate, and let his speech flow on for an hour +and a quarter without a break. + +Only once he stopped and for some time stood swallowing his +saliva, but he soon mastered himself and made up for the +interruption by heightened eloquence. He spoke, now with a +tender, insinuating accent, stepping from foot to foot and +looking at the jury, now in quiet, business-like tones, glancing +into his notebook, then with a loud, accusing voice, looking from +the audience to the advocates. But he avoided looking at the +prisoners, who were all three fixedly gazing at him. Every new +craze then in vogue among his set was alluded to in his speech; +everything that then was, and some things that still are, +considered to be the last words of scientific wisdom: the laws of +heredity and inborn criminality, evolution and the struggle for +existence, hypnotism and hypnotic influence. + +According to his definition, the merchant Smelkoff was of the +genuine Russian type, and had perished in consequence of his +generous, trusting nature, having fallen into the hands of deeply +degraded individuals. + +Simeon Kartinkin was the atavistic production of serfdom, a +stupefied, ignorant, unprincipled man, who had not even any +religion. Euphemia was his mistress, and a victim of heredity; +all the signs of degeneration were noticeable in her. The chief +wire-puller in this affair was Maslova, presenting the phenomenon +of decadence in its lowest form. "This woman," he said, looking +at her, "has, as we have to-day heard from her mistress in this +court, received an education; she cannot only read and write, but +she knows French; she is illegitimate, and probably carries in +her the germs of criminality. She was educated in an enlightened, +noble family and might have lived by honest work, but she deserts +her benefactress, gives herself up to a life of shame in which +she is distinguished from her companions by her education, and +chiefly, gentlemen of the jury, as you have heard from her +mistress, by her power of acting on the visitors by means of that +mysterious capacity lately investigated by science, especially by +the school of Charcot, known by the name of hypnotic influence. +By these means she gets hold of this Russian, this kind-hearted +Sadko, [Sadko, the hero of a legend] the rich guest, and uses his +trust in order first to rob and then pitilessly to murder him." + +"Well, he is piling it on now, isn't he?" said the president with +a smile, bending towards the serious member. + +"A fearful blockhead!" said the serious member. + +Meanwhile the public prosecutor went on with his speech. +"Gentlemen of the jury," gracefully swaying his body, "the fate +of society is to a certain extent in your power. Your verdict +will influence it. Grasp the full meaning of this crime, the +danger that awaits society from those whom I may perhaps be +permitted to call pathological individuals, such as Maslova. +Guard it from infection; guard the innocent and strong elements +of society from contagion or even destruction." + +And as if himself overcome by the significance of the expected +verdict, the public prosecutor sank into his chair, highly +delighted with his speech. + +The sense of the speech, when divested of all its flowers of +rhetoric, was that Maslova, having gained the merchant's +confidence, hypnotised him and went to his lodgings with his key +meaning to take all the money herself, but having been caught in +the act by Simeon and Euphemia had to share it with them. Then, +in order to hide the traces of the crime, she had returned to the +lodgings with the merchant and there poisoned him. + +After the prosecutor had spoken, a middle-aged man in +swallow-tail coat and low-cut waistcoat showing a large +half-circle of starched white shirt, rose from the advocates' +bench and made a speech in defence of Kartinkin and Botchkova; +this was an advocate engaged by them for 300 roubles. He +acquitted them both and put all the blame on Maslova. He denied +the truth of Maslova's statements that Botchkova and Kartinkin +were with her when she took the money, laying great stress on the +point that her evidence could not be accepted, she being charged +with poisoning. "The 2,500 roubles," the advocate said, "could +have been easily earned by two honest people getting from three +to five roubles per day in tips from the lodgers. The merchant's +money was stolen by Maslova and given away, or even lost, as she +was not in a normal state." + +The poisoning was committed by Maslova alone; therefore he begged +the jury to acquit Kartinkin and Botchkova of stealing the money; +or if they could not acquit them of the theft, at least to admit +that it was done without any participation in the poisoning. + +In conclusion the advocate remarked, with a thrust at the public +prosecutor, that "the brilliant observations of that gentleman on +heredity, while explaining scientific facts concerning heredity, +were inapplicable in this case, as Botchkova was of unknown +parentage." The public prosecutor put something down on paper +with an angry look, and shrugged his shoulders in contemptuous +surprise. + +Then Maslova's advocate rose, and timidly and hesitatingly began +his speech in her defence. + +Without denying that she had taken part in the stealing of the +money, he insisted on the fact that she had no intention of +poisoning Smelkoff, but had given him the powder only to make him +fall asleep. He tried to go in for a little eloquence in giving a +description of how Maslova was led into a life of debauchery by a +man who had remained unpunished while she had to bear all the +weight of her fall; but this excursion into the domain of +psychology was so unsuccessful that it made everybody feel +uncomfortable. When he muttered something about men's cruelty and +women's helplessness, the president tried to help him by asking +him to keep closer to the facts of the case. When he had finished +the public prosecutor got up to reply. He defended his position +against the first advocate, saying that even if Botchkova was of +unknown parentage the truth of the doctrine of heredity was +thereby in no way invalidated, since the laws of heredity were so +far proved by science that we can not only deduce the crime from +heredity, but heredity from the crime. As to the statement made +in defence of Maslova, that she was the victim of an imaginary +(he laid a particularly venomous stress on the word imaginary) +betrayer, he could only say that from the evidence before them it +was much more likely that she had played the part of temptress to +many and many a victim who had fallen into her hands. Having said +this he sat down in triumph. Then the prisoners were offered +permission to speak in their own defence. + +Euphemia Botchkova repeated once more that she knew nothing about +it and had taken part in nothing, and firmly laid the whole blame +on Maslova. Simeon Kartinkin only repeated several times: "It is +your business, but I am innocent; it's unjust." Maslova said +nothing in her defence. Told she might do so by the president, +she only lifted her eyes to him, cast a look round the room like +a hunted animal, and, dropping her head, began to cry, sobbing +aloud. + +"What is the matter?" the merchant asked Nekhludoff, hearing him +utter a strange sound. This was the sound of weeping fiercely +kept back. Nekhludoff had not yet understood the significance of +his present position, and attributed the sobs he could hardly +keep back and the tears that filled his eyes to the weakness of +his nerves. He put on his pince-nez in order to hide the tears, +then got out his handkerchief and began blowing his nose. + +Fear of the disgrace that would befall him if every one in the +court knew of his conduct stifled the inner working of his soul. +This fear was, during this first period, stronger than all else. + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +THE TRIAL--THE SUMMING UP. + +After the last words of the prisoners had been heard, the form in +which the questions were to be put to the jury was settled, which +also took some time. At last the questions were formulated, and +the president began the summing up. + +Before putting the case to the jury, he spoke to them for some +time in a pleasant, homely manner, explaining that burglary was +burglary and theft was theft, and that stealing from a place +which was under lock and key was stealing from a place under lock +and key. While he was explaining this, he looked several times at +Nekhludoff as if wishing to impress upon him these important +facts, in hopes that, having understood it, Nekhludoff would make +his fellow-jurymen also understand it. When he considered that +the jury were sufficiently imbued with these facts, he proceeded +to enunciate another truth--namely, that a murder is an action +which has the death of a human being as its consequence, and that +poisoning could therefore also be termed murder. When, according +to his opinion, this truth had also been received by the jury, he +went on to explain that if theft and murder had been committed at +the same time, the combination of the crimes was theft with +murder. + +Although he was himself anxious to finish as soon as possible, +although he knew that his Swiss friend would be waiting for him, +he had grown so used to his occupation that, having begun to +speak, he could not stop himself, and therefore he went on to +impress on the jury with much detail that if they found the +prisoners guilty, they would have the right to give a verdict of +guilty; and if they found them not guilty, to give a verdict of +not guilty; and if they found them guilty of one of the crimes +and not of the other, they might give a verdict of guilty on the +one count and of not guilty on the other. Then he explained that +though this right was given them they should use it with reason. + +He was going to add that if they gave an affirmative answer to +any question that was put to them they would thereby affirm +everything included in the question, so that if they did not wish +to affirm the whole of the question they should mention the part +of the question they wished to be excepted. But, glancing at the +clock, and seeing it was already five minutes to three, he +resolved to trust to their being intelligent enough to understand +this without further comment. + +"The facts of this case are the following," began the president, +and repeated all that had already been said several times by the +advocates, the public prosecutor and the witnesses. + +The president spoke, and the members on each side of him listened +with deeply-attentive expressions, but looked from time to time +at the clock, for they considered the speech too long though very +good--i.e., such as it ought to be. The public prosecutor, the +lawyers, and, in fact, everyone in the court, shared the same +impression. The president finished the summing up. Then he found +it necessary to tell the jury what they all knew, or might have +found out by reading it up--i.e., how they were to consider the +case, count the votes, in case of a tie to acquit the prisoners, +and so on. + +Everything seemed to have been told; but no, the president could +not forego his right of speaking as yet. It was so pleasant to +hear the impressive tones of his own voice, and therefore he +found it necessary to say a few words more about the importance +of the rights given to the jury, how carefully they should use +the rights and how they ought not to abuse them, about their +being on their oath, that they were the conscience of society, +that the secrecy of the debating-room should be considered +sacred, etc. + +From the time the president commenced his speech, Maslova watched +him without moving her eyes as if afraid of losing a single word; +so that Nekhludoff was not afraid of meeting her eyes and kept +looking at her all the time. And his mind passed through those +phases in which a face which we have not seen for many years +first strikes us with the outward changes brought about during +the time of separation, and then gradually becomes more and more +like its old self, when the changes made by time seem to +disappear, and before our spiritual eyes rises only the principal +expression of one exceptional, unique individuality. Yes, though +dressed in a prison cloak, and in spite of the developed figure, +the fulness of the bosom and lower part of the face, in spite of +a few wrinkles on the forehead and temples and the swollen eyes, +this was certainly the same Katusha who, on that Easter eve, had +so innocently looked up to him whom she loved, with her fond, +laughing eyes full of joy and life. + +"What a strange coincidence that after ten years, during which I +never saw her, this case should have come up today when I am on +the jury, and that it is in the prisoners' dock that I see her +again! And how will it end? Oh, dear, if they would only get on +quicker." + +Still he would not give in to the feelings of repentance which +began to arise within him. He tried to consider it all as a +coincidence, which would pass without infringing his manner of +life. He felt himself in the position of a puppy, when its +master, taking it by the scruff of its neck, rubs its nose in the +mess it has made. The puppy whines, draws back and wants to get +away as far as possible from the effects of its misdeed, but the +pitiless master does not let go. + +And so, Nekhludoff, feeling all the repulsiveness of what he had +done, felt also the powerful hand of the Master, but he did not +feel the whole significance of his action yet and would not +recognise the Master's hand. He did not wish to believe that it +was the effect of his deed that lay before him, but the pitiless +hand of the Master held him and he felt he could not get away. He +was still keeping up his courage and sat on his chair in the +first row in his usual self-possessed pose, one leg carelessly +thrown over the other, and playing with his pince-nez. Yet all +the while, in the depths of his soul, he felt the cruelty, +cowardice and baseness, not only of this particular action of his +but of his whole self-willed, depraved, cruel, idle life; and +that dreadful veil which had in some unaccountable manner hidden +from him this sin of his and the whole of his subsequent life was +beginning to shake, and he caught glimpses of what was covered by +that veil. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +THE TRIAL--THE VERDICT. + +At last the president finished his speech, and lifting the list +of questions with a graceful movement of his arm he handed it to +the foreman, who came up to take it. The jury, glad to be able to +get into the debating-court, got up one after the other and left +the room, looking as if a bit ashamed of themselves and again not +knowing what to do with their hands. As soon as the door was +closed behind them a gendarme came up to it, pulled his sword out +of the scabbard, and, holding it up against his shoulder, stood +at the door. The judges got up and went away. The prisoners were +also led out. When the jury came into the debating-room the first +thing they did was to take out their cigarettes, as before, and +begin smoking. The sense of the unnaturalness and falseness of +their position, which all of them had experienced while sitting +in their places in the court, passed when they entered the +debating-room and started smoking, and they settled down with a +feeling of relief and at once began an animated conversation. + +"'Tisn't the girl's fault. She's got mixed up in it," said the +kindly merchant. "We must recommend her to mercy." + +"That's just what we are going to consider," said the foreman. +"We must not give way to our personal impressions." + +"The president's summing up was good," remarked the colonel. + +"Good? Why, it nearly sent me to sleep!" + +"The chief point is that the servants could have known nothing +about the money if Maslova had not been in accord with them," +said the clerk of Jewish extraction. + +"Well, do you think that it was she who stole the money?" asked +one of the jury. + +"I will never believe it," cried the kindly merchant; "it was all +that red-eyed hag's doing." + +"They are a nice lot, all of them," said the colonel. + +"But she says she never went into the room." + +"Oh, believe her by all means." + +"I should not believe that jade, not for the world." + +"Whether you believe her or not does not settle the question," +said the clerk. + +"The girl had the key," said the colonel. + +"What if she had?" retorted the merchant. + +"And the ring?" + +"But didn't she say all about it?" again cried the merchant. "The +fellow had a temper of his own, and had had a drop too much +besides, and gave the girl a licking; what could be simpler? +Well, then he's sorry--quite naturally. 'There, never mind,' says +he; 'take this.' Why, I heard them say he was six foot five high; +I should think he must have weighed about 20 stones." + +"That's not the point," said Peter Gerasimovitch. "The question +is, whether she was the instigator and inciter in this affair, or +the servants?" + +"It was not possible for the servants to do it alone; she had the +key." + +This kind of random talk went on for a considerable time. At last +the foreman said: "I beg your pardon, gentlemen, but had we not +better take our places at the table and discuss the matter? +Come, please." And he took the chair. + +The questions were expressed in the following manner. + +1. Is the peasant of the village Borki, Krapivinskia district, +Simeon Petrov Kartinkin, 33 years of age, guilty of having, in +agreement with other persons, given the merchant Smelkoff, on the +17th January, 188-, in the town of N-----, with intent to deprive +him of life, for the purpose of robbing him, poisoned brandy, +which caused Smelkoff's death, and of having stolen from him +about 2,500 roubles in money and a diamond ring? + +2. Is the meschanka Euphemia Ivanovna Botchkova, 43 years of age, +guilty of the crimes described above? + +3. Is the meschanka Katerina Michaelovna Maslova, 27 years of +age, guilty of the crimes described in the first question? + +4. If the prisoner Euphemia Botchkova is not guilty according to +the first question, is she not guilty of having, on the 17th +January, in the town of N----, while in service at the hotel +Mauritania, stolen from a locked portmanteau, belonging to the +merchant Smelkoff, a lodger in that hotel, and which was in the +room occupied by him, 2,500 roubles, for which object she +unlocked the portmanteau with a key she brought and fitted to the +lock? + +The foreman read the first question. + +"Well, gentlemen, what do you think?" This question was quickly +answered. All agreed to say "Guilty," as if convinced that +Kartinkin had taken part both in the poisoning and the robbery. +An old artelshik, [member of an artel, an association of workmen, +in which the members share profits and liabilities] whose +answers were all in favour of acquittal, was the only exception. + +The foreman thought he did not understand, and began to point out +to him that everything tended to prove Kartinkin's guilt. The old +man answered that he did understand, but still thought it better +to have pity on him. "We are not saints ourselves," and he kept +to his opinion. + +The answer to the second question concerning Botchkova was, after +much dispute and many exclamations, answered by the words, "Not +guilty," there being no clear proofs of her having taken part in +the poisoning--a fact her advocate had strongly insisted on. The +merchant, anxious to acquit Maslova, insisted that Botchkova was +the chief instigator of it all. Many of the jury shared this +view, but the foreman, wishing to be in strict accord with the +law, declared they had no grounds to consider her as an +accomplice in the poisoning. After much disputing the foreman's +opinion triumphed. + +To the fourth question concerning Botchkova the answer was +"Guilty." But on the artelshik's insistence she was recommended +to mercy. + +The third question, concerning Maslova, raised a fierce dispute. +The foreman maintained she was guilty both of the poisoning and +the theft, to which the merchant would not agree. The colonel, +the clerk and the old artelshik sided with the merchant, the rest +seemed shaky, and the opinion of the foreman began to gain +ground, chiefly because all the jurymen were getting tired, and +preferred to take up the view that would bring them sooner to a +decision and thus liberate them. + +From all that had passed, and from his former knowledge of +Maslova, Nekhludoff was certain that she was innocent of both the +theft and the poisoning. And he felt sure that all the others +would come to the same conclusion. When he saw that the +merchant's awkward defence (evidently based on his physical +admiration for her, which he did not even try to hide) and the +foreman's insistence, and especially everybody's weariness, were +all tending to her condemnation, he longed to state his +objections, yet dared not, lest his relations with Maslova should +be discovered. He felt he could not allow things to go on without +stating his objection; and, blushing and growing pale again, was +about to speak when Peter Gerasimovitch, irritated by the +authoritative manner of the foreman, began to raise his +objections and said the very things Nekhludoff was about to say. + +"Allow me one moment," he said. "You seem to think that her +having the key proves she is guilty of the theft; but what could +be easier than for the servants to open the portmanteau with a +false key after she was gone?" + +"Of course, of course," said the merchant. + +"She could not have taken the money, because in her position she +would hardly know what to do with it." + +"That's just what I say," remarked the merchant. + +"But it is very likely that her coming put the idea into the +servants' heads and that they grasped the opportunity and shoved +all the blame on her." Peter Gerasimovitch spoke so irritably +that the foreman became irritated too, and went on obstinately +defending the opposite views; but Peter Gerasimovitch spoke so +convincingly that the majority agreed with him, and decided that +Maslova was not guilty of stealing the money and that the ring +was given her. + +But when the question of her having taken part in the poisoning +was raised, her zealous defender, the merchant, declared that she +must be acquitted, because she could have no reason for the +poisoning. The foreman, however, said that it was impossible to +acquit her, because she herself had pleaded guilty to having +given the powder. + +"Yes, but thinking it was opium," said the merchant. + +"Opium can also deprive one of life," said the colonel, who was +fond of wandering from the subject, and he began telling how his +brother-in-law's wife would have died of an overdose of opium if +there had not been a doctor near at hand to take the necessary +measures. The colonel told his story so impressively, with such +self-possession and dignity, that no one had the courage to +interrupt him. Only the clerk, infected by his example, decided +to break in with a story of his own: "There are some who get so +used to it that they can take 40 drops. I have a relative--," but +the colonel would not stand the interruption, and went on to +relate what effects the opium had on his brother-in-law's wife. + +"But, gentlemen, do you know it is getting on towards five +o'clock?" said one of the jury. + +"Well, gentlemen, what are we to say, then?" inquired the +foreman. "Shall we say she is guilty, but without intent to rob? +And without stealing any property? Will that do?" Peter +Gerasimovitch, pleased with his victory, agreed. + +"But she must be recommended to mercy," said the merchant. + +All agreed; only the old artelshik insisted that they should say +"Not guilty." + +"It comes to the same thing," explained the foreman; "without +intent to rob, and without stealing any property. Therefore, 'Not +guilty,' that's evident." + +"All right; that'll do. And we recommend her to mercy," said the +merchant, gaily. + +They were all so tired, so confused by the discussions, that +nobody thought of saying that she was guilty of giving the powder +but without the intent of taking life. Nekhludoff was so excited +that he did not notice this omission, and so the answers were +written down in the form agreed upon and taken to the court. + +Rabelais says that a lawyer who was trying a case quoted all +sorts of laws, read 20 pages of judicial senseless Latin, and +then proposed to the judges to throw dice, and if the numbers +proved odd the defendant would be right, if not, the plaintiff. + +It was much the same in this case. The resolution was taken, not +because everybody agreed upon it, but because the president, who +had been summing up at such length, omitted to say what he always +said on such occasions, that the answer might be, "Yes, guilty, +but without the intent of taking life;" because the colonel had +related the story of his brother-in-law's wife at such great +length; because Nekhludoff was too excited to notice that the +proviso "without intent to take life" had been omitted, and +thought that the words "without intent" nullified the conviction; +because Peter Gerasimovitch had retired from the room while the +questions and answers were being read, and chiefly because, being +tired, and wishing to get away as soon as possible, all were +ready to agree with the decision which would bring matters to an +end soonest. + +The jurymen rang the bell. The gendarme who had stood outside the +door with his sword drawn put the sword back into the scabbard +and stepped aside. The judges took their seats and the jury came +out one by one. + +The foreman brought in the paper with an air of solemnity and +handed it to the president, who looked at it, and, spreading out +his hands in astonishment, turned to consult his companions. The +president was surprised that the jury, having put in a +proviso--without intent to rob--did not put in a second +proviso--without intent to take life. From the decision of the +jury it followed that Maslova had not stolen, nor robbed, and yet +poisoned a man without any apparent reason. + +"Just see what an absurd decision they have come to," he +whispered to the member on his left. "This means penal servitude +in Siberia, and she is innocent." + +"Surely you do not mean to say she is innocent?" answered the +serious member. + +"Yes, she is positively innocent. I think this is a case for +putting Article 817 into practice (Article 817 states that if the +Court considers the decision of the jury unjust it may set it +aside)." + +"What do you think?" said the president, turning to the other +member. The kindly member did not answer at once. He looked at +the number on a paper before him and added up the figures; the +sum would not divide by three. He had settled in his mind that if +it did divide by three he would agree to the president's +proposal, but though the sum would not so divide his kindness +made him agree all the same. + +"I, too, think it should be done," he said. + +"And you?" asked the president, turning to the serious member. + +"On no account," he answered, firmly. "As it is, the papers +accuse the jury of acquitting prisoners. What will they say if +the Court does it? I, shall not agree to that on any account." + +The president looked at his watch. "It is a pity, but what's to +be done?" and handed the questions to the foreman to read out. +All got up, and the foreman, stepping from foot to foot, coughed, +and read the questions and the answers. All the Court, secretary, +advocates, and even the public prosecutor, expressed surprise. +The prisoners sat impassive, evidently not understanding the +meaning of the answers. Everybody sat down again, and the +president asked the prosecutor what punishments the prisoners +were to be subjected to. + +The prosecutor, glad of his unexpected success in getting Maslova +convicted, and attributing the success entirely to his own +eloquence, looked up the necessary information, rose and said: +"With Simeon Kartinkin I should deal according to Statute 1,452 +paragraph 93. Euphemia Botchkova according to Statute . . ., etc. +Katerina Maslova according to Statute . . ., etc." + +All three punishments were the heaviest that could be inflicted. + +"The Court will adjourn to consider the sentence," said the +president, rising. Everybody rose after him, and with the +pleasant feeling of a task well done began to leave the room or +move about in it. + +"D'you know, sirs, we have made a shameful hash of it?" said +Peter Gerasimovitch, approaching Nekhludoff, to whom the foreman +was relating something. "Why, we've got her to Siberia." + +"What are you saying?" exclaimed Nekhludoff. This time he did not +notice the teacher's familiarity. + +"Why, we did not put in our answer 'Guilty, but without intent of +causing death.' The secretary just told me the public prosecutor +is for condemning her to 15 years' penal servitude." + +"Well, but it was decided so," said the foreman. + +Peter Gerasimovitch began to dispute this, saying that since she +did not take the money it followed naturally that she could not +have had any intention of committing murder. + +"But I read the answer before going out," said the foreman, +defending himself, "and nobody objected." + +"I had just then gone out of the room," said Peter Gerasimovitch, +turning to Nekhludoff, "and your thoughts must have been +wool-gathering to let the thing pass." + +"I never imagined this," Nekhludoff replied. + +"Oh, you didn't?" + +"Oh, well, we can get it put right," said Nekhludoff. + +"Oh, dear no; it's finished." + +Nekhludoff looked at the prisoners. They whose fate was being +decided still sat motionless behind the grating in front of the +soldiers. Maslova was smiling. Another feeling stirred in +Nekhludoff's soul. Up to now, expecting her acquittal and +thinking she would remain in the town, he was uncertain how to +act towards her. Any kind of relations with her would be so very +difficult. But Siberia and penal servitude at once cut off every +possibility of any kind of relations with her. The wounded bird +would stop struggling in the game-bag, and no longer remind him +of its existence. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +THE TRIAL--THE SENTENCE. + +Peter Gerasimovitch's assumption was correct. The president came +back from the debating room with a paper, and read as +follows:--"April 28th, 188-. By His Imperial Majesty's ukase No. +----- The Criminal Court, on the strength of the decision of the +jury, in accordance with Section 3 of Statute 771, Section 3 of +Statutes 770 and 777, decrees that the peasant, Simeon Kartinkin, +33 years of age, and the meschanka Katerina Maslova, 27 years of +age, are to be deprived of all property rights and to be sent to +penal servitude in Siberia, Kartinkin for eight, Maslova for four +years, with the consequences stated in Statute 25 of the code. +The meschanka Botchkova, 43 years of age, to be deprived of all +special personal and acquired rights, and to be imprisoned for +three years with consequences in accord with Statute 48 of the +code. The costs of the case to be borne equally by the prisoners; +and, in the case of their being without sufficient property, the +costs to be transferred to the Treasury. Articles of material +evidence to be sold, the ring to be returned, the phials +destroyed." Botchkova was condemned to prison, Simeon Kartinken +and Katerina Maslova to the loss of all special rights and +privileges and to penal servitude in Siberia, he for eight and +she for four years. + +Kartinkin stood holding his arms close to his sides and moving +his lips. Botchkova seemed perfectly calm. Maslova, when she +heard the sentence, blushed scarlet. "I'm not guilty, not +guilty!" she suddenly cried, so that it resounded through the +room. "It is a sin! I am not guilty! I never wished--I never +thought! It is the truth I am saying--the truth!" and sinking on +the bench she burst into tears and sobbed aloud. When Kartinkin +and Botchkova went out she still sat crying, so that a gendarme +had to touch the sleeve of her cloak. + +"No; it is impossible to leave it as it is," said Nekhludoff to +himself, utterly forgetting his bad thoughts. He did not know why +he wished to look at her once more, but hurried out into the +corridor. There was quite a crowd at the door. The advocates and +jury were going out, pleased to have finished the business, and +he was obliged to wait a few seconds, and when he at last got out +into the corridor she was far in front. He hurried along the +corridor after her, regardless of the attention he was arousing, +caught her up, passed her, and stopped. She had ceased crying and +only sobbed, wiping her red, discoloured face with the end of the +kerchief on her head. She passed without noticing him. Then he +hurried back to see the president. The latter had already left +the court, and Nekhludoff followed him into the lobby and went up +to him just as he had put on his light grey overcoat and was +taking the silver-mounted walking-stick which an attendant was +handing him. + +"Sir, may I have a few words with you concerning some business I +have just decided upon?" said Nekhludoff. "I am one of the jury." + +"Oh, certainly, Prince Nekhludoff. I shall be delighted. I think +we have met before," said the president, pressing Nekhludoff's +hand and recalling with pleasure the evening when he first met +Nekhludoff, and when he had danced so gaily, better than all the +young people. "What can I do for you?" + +"There is a mistake in the answer concerning Maslova. She is not +guilty of the poisoning and yet she is condemned to penal +servitude," said Nekhludoff, with a preoccupied and gloomy air. + +"The Court passed the sentence in accordance with the answers you +yourselves gave," said the president, moving towards the front +door; "though they did not seem to be quite in accord." And he +remembered that he had been going to explain to the jury that a +verdict of "guilty" meant guilty of intentional murder unless the +words "without intent to take life" were added, but had, in his +hurry to get the business over, omitted to do so. + +"Yes, but could not the mistake be rectified?" + +"A reason for an appeal can always be found. You will have to +speak to an advocate," said the president, putting on his hat a +little to one side and continuing to move towards the door. + +"But this is terrible." + +"Well, you see, there were two possibilities before Maslova," +said the president, evidently wishing to be as polite and +pleasant to Nekhludoff as he could. Then, having arranged his +whiskers over his coat collar, he put his hand lightly under +Nekhludoff's elbow, and, still directing his steps towards the +front door, he said, "You are going, too?" + +"Yes," said Nekhludoff, quickly getting his coat, and following +him. + +They went out into the bright, merry sunlight, and had to raise +their voices because of the rattling of the wheels on the +pavement. + +"The situation is a curious one, you see," said the president; +"what lay before this Maslova was one of two things: either to be +almost acquitted and only imprisoned for a short time, or, taking +the preliminary confinement into consideration, perhaps not at +all--or Siberia. There is nothing between. Had you but added the +words, 'without intent to cause death,' she would have been +acquitted." + +"Yes, it was inexcusable of me to omit that," said Nekhludoff. + +"That's where the whole matter lies," said the president, with a +smile, and looked at his watch. He had only three-quarters of an +hour left before the time appointed by his Clara would elapse. + +"Now, if you like to speak to the advocates you'll have to find a +reason for an appeal; that can be easily done." Then, turning to +an isvostchik, he called out, "To the Dvoryanskaya 30 copecks; I +never give more." "All right, your honour; here you are." + +"Good-afternoon. If I can be of any use, my address is House +Dvornikoff, on the Dvoryanskaya; it's easy to remember." And he +bowed in a friendly manner as he got into the trap and drove off. + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +NEKHLUDOFF CONSULTS AN ADVOCATE. + +His conversation with the president and the fresh air quieted +Nekhludoff a little. He now thought that the feelings experienced +by him had been exaggerated by the unusual surroundings in which +he had spent the whole of the morning, and by that wonderful and +startling coincidence. Still, it was absolutely necessary to take +some steps to lighten Maslova's fate, and to take them quickly. +"Yes, at once! It will be best to find out here in the court +where the advocate Fanarin or Mikishin lives." These were two +well-known advocates whom Nekhludoff called to mind. He returned +to the court, took off his overcoat, and went upstairs. In the +first corridor he met Fanarin himself. He stopped him, and told +him that he was just going to look him up on a matter of +business. + +Fanarin knew Nekhludoff by sight and name, and said he would be +very glad to be of service to him. + +"Though I am rather tired, still, if your business will not take +very long, perhaps you might tell me what it is now. Will you +step in here?" And he led Nekhludoff into a room, probably some +judge's cabinet. They sat down by the table. + +"Well, and what is your business?" + +"First of all, I must ask you to keep the business private. I do +not want it known that I take an interest in the affair." + +"Oh, that of course. Well?" + +"I was on the jury to-day, and we have condemned a woman to +Siberia, an innocent woman. This bothers me very much." +Nekhludoff, to his own surprise, blushed and became confused. +Fanarin glanced at him rapidly, and looked down again, listening. + +"Well?" + +"We have condemned a woman, and I should like to appeal to a +higher court." + +"To the Senate, you mean," said Fanarin, correcting him. + +"Yes, and I should like to ask you to take the case in hand." +Nekhludoff wanted to get the most difficult part over, and added, +"I shall take the costs of the case on myself, whatever they may +be." + +"Oh, we shall settle all that," said the advocate, smiling with +condescension at Nekhludoff's inexperience in these matters. +"What is the case?" + +Nekhludoff stated what had happened. + +"All right. I shall look the case through to-morrow or the day +after--no--better on Thursday. If you will come to me at six +o'clock I will give you an answer. Well, and now let us go; I +have to make a few inquiries here." + +Nekhludoff took leave of him and went out. This talk with the +advocate, and the fact that he had taken measures for Maslova's +defence, quieted him still further. He went out into the street. +The weather was beautiful, and he joyfully drew in a long breath +of spring air. He was at once surrounded by isvostchiks offering +their services, but he went on foot. A whole swarm of pictures +and memories of Katusha and his conduct to her began whirling in +his brain, and he felt depressed and everything appeared gloomy. +"No, I shall consider all this later on; I must now get rid of +all these disagreeable impressions," he thought to himself. + +He remembered the Korchagin's dinner and looked at his watch. It +was not yet too late to get there in time. He heard the ring of a +passing tramcar, ran to catch it, and jumped on. He jumped off +again when they got to the market-place, took a good isvostchik, +and ten minutes later was at the entrance of the Korchagins' big +house. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +THE HOUSE OF KORCHAGIN. + +"Please to walk in, your excellency," said the friendly, fat +doorkeeper of the Korchagins' big house, opening the door, which +moved noiselessly on its patent English hinges; "you are +expected. They are at dinner. My orders were to admit only you." +The doorkeeper went as far as the staircase and rang. + +"Are there any strangers?" asked Nekhludoff, taking off his +overcoat. + +"Mr. Kolosoff and Michael Sergeivitch only, besides the family." + +A very handsome footman with whiskers, in a swallow-tail coat and +white gloves, looked down from the landing. + +"Please to walk up, your excellency," he said. "You are expected." + +Nekhludoff went up and passed through the splendid large +dancing-room, which he knew so well, into the dining-room. There +the whole Korchagin family--except the mother, Sophia Vasilievna, +who never left her cabinet--were sitting round the table. At the +head of the table sat old Korchagin; on his left the doctor, and +on his right, a visitor, Ivan Ivanovitch Kolosoff, a former +Marechal de Noblesse, now a bank director, Korchagin's friend and +a Liberal. Next on the left side sat Miss Rayner, the governess +of Missy's little sister, and the four-year-old girl herself. +Opposite them, Missy's brother, Petia, the only son of the +Korchagins, a public-school boy of the Sixth Class. It was +because of his examinations that the whole family were still in +town. Next to him sat a University student who was coaching him, +and Missy's cousin, Michael Sergeivitch Telegin, generally called +Misha; opposite him, Katerina Alexeevna, a 40-year-old maiden +lady, a Slavophil; and at the foot of the table sat Missy +herself, with an empty place by her side. + +"Ah! that's right! Sit down. We are still at the fish," said old +Korchagin with difficulty, chewing carefully with his false +teeth, and lifting his bloodshot eyes (which had no visible lids +to them) to Nekhludoff. + +"Stephen!" he said, with his mouth full, addressing the stout, +dignified butler, and pointing with his eyes to the empty place. +Though Nekhludoff knew Korchagin very well, and had often seen +him at dinner, to-day this red face with the sensual smacking +lips, the fat neck above the napkin stuck into his waistcoat, and +the whole over-fed military figure, struck him very disagreeably. +Then Nekhludoff remembered, without wishing to, what he knew of +the cruelty of this man, who, when in command, used to have men +flogged, and even hanged, without rhyme or reason, simply because +he was rich and had no need to curry favour. + +"Immediately, your excellency," said Stephen, getting a large +soup ladle out of the sideboard, which was decorated with a +number of silver vases. He made a sign with his head to the +handsome footman, who began at once to arrange the untouched +knives and forks and the napkin, elaborately folded with the +embroidered family crest uppermost, in front of the empty place +next to Missy. Nekhludoff went round shaking hands with every +one, and all, except old Korchagin and the ladies, rose when he +approached. And this walk round the table, this shaking the hands +of people, with many of whom he never talked, seemed unpleasant +and odd. He excused himself for being late, and was about to sit +down between Missy and Katerina Alexeevna, but old Korchagin +insisted that if he would not take a glass of vodka he should at +least take a bit of something to whet his appetite, at the side +table, on which stood small dishes of lobster, caviare, cheese, +and salt herrings. Nekhludoff did not know how hungry he was +until he began to eat, and then, having taken some bread and +cheese, he went on eating eagerly. + +"Well, have you succeeded in undermining the basis of society?" +asked Kolosoff, ironically quoting an expression used by a +retrograde newspaper in attacking trial by jury. "Acquitted the +culprits and condemned the innocent, have you?" + +"Undermining the basis--undermining the basis," repeated Prince +Korchagin, laughing. He had a firm faith in the wisdom and +learning of his chosen friend and companion. + +At the risk of seeming rude, Nekhludoff left Kolosoff's question +unanswered, and sitting down to his steaming soup, went on +eating. + +"Do let him eat," said Missy, with a smile. The pronoun him she +used as a reminder of her intimacy with Nekhludoff. Kolosoff went +on in a loud voice and lively manner to give the contents of the +article against trial by jury which had aroused his indignation. +Missy's cousin, Michael Sergeivitch, endorsed all his statements, +and related the contents of another article in the same paper. +Missy was, as usual, very distinguee, and well, unobtrusively +well, dressed. + +"You must be terribly tired," she said, after waiting until +Nekhludoff had swallowed what was in his mouth. + +"Not particularly. And you? Have you been to look at the +pictures?" he asked. + +"No, we put that off. We have been playing tennis at the +Salamatoffs'. It is quite true, Mr. Crooks plays remarkably +well." + +Nekhludoff had come here in order to distract his thoughts, for +he used to like being in this house, both because its refined +luxury had a pleasant effect on him and because of the atmosphere +of tender flattery that unobtrusively surrounded him. But to-day +everything in the house was repulsive to him--everything: +beginning with the doorkeeper, the broad staircase, the flowers, +the footman, the table decorations, up to Missy herself, who +to-day seemed unattractive and affected. Kolosoff's self-assured, +trivial tone of liberalism was unpleasant, as was also the +sensual, self-satisfied, bull-like appearance of old Korchagin, +and the French phrases of Katerina Alexeevna, the Slavophil. The +constrained looks of the governess and the student were +unpleasant, too, but most unpleasant of all was the pronoun _him_ +that Missy had used. Nekhludoff had long been wavering between +two ways of regarding Missy; sometimes he looked at her as if by +moonlight, and could see in her nothing but what was beautiful, +fresh, pretty, clever and natural; then suddenly, as if the +bright sun shone on her, he saw her defects and could not help +seeing them. This was such a day for him. To-day he saw all the +wrinkles of her face, knew which of her teeth were false, saw the +way her hair was crimped, the sharpness of her elbows, and, above +all, how large her thumb-nail was and how like her father's. + +"Tennis is a dull game," said Kolosoff; "we used to play lapta +when we were children. That was much more amusing." + +"Oh, no, you never tried it; it's awfully interesting," said +Missy, laying, it seemed to Nekhludoff, a very affected stress on +the word "awfully." Then a dispute arose in which Michael +Sergeivitch, Katerina Alexeevna and all the others took part, +except the governess, the student and the children, who sat +silent and wearied. + +"Oh, these everlasting disputes!" said old Korchagin, laughing, +and he pulled the napkin out of his waistcoat, noisily pushed +back his chair, which the footman instantly caught hold of, and +left the table. + +Everybody rose after him, and went up to another table on which +stood glasses of scented water. They rinsed their mouths, then +resumed the conversation, interesting to no one. + +"Don't you think so?" said Missy to Nekhludoff, calling for a +confirmation of the statement that nothing shows up a man's +character like a game. She noticed that preoccupied and, as it +seemed to her, dissatisfied look which she feared, and she wanted +to find out what had caused it. + +"Really, I can't tell; I have never thought about it," Nekhludoff +answered. + +"Will you come to mamma?" asked Missy. + +"Yes, yes," he said, in a tone which plainly proved that he did +not want to go, and took out a cigarette. + +She looked at him in silence, with a questioning look, and he +felt ashamed. "To come into a house and give the people the +dumps," he thought about himself; then, trying to be amiable, +said that he would go with pleasure if the princess would admit +him. + +"Oh, yes! Mamma will be pleased. You may smoke there; and Ivan +Ivanovitch is also there." + +The mistress of the house, Princess Sophia Vasilievna, was a +recumbent lady. It was the eighth year that, when visitors were +present, she lay in lace and ribbons, surrounded with velvet, +gilding, ivory, bronze, lacquer and flowers, never going out, and +only, as she put it, receiving intimate friends, i.e., those who +according to her idea stood out from the common herd. + +Nekhludoff was admitted into the number of these friends because +he was considered clever, because his mother had been an intimate +friend of the family, and because it was desirable that Missy +should marry him. + +Sophia Vasilievna's room lay beyond the large and the small +drawing-rooms. In the large drawing-room, Missy, who was in front +of Nekhludoff, stopped resolutely, and taking hold of the back of +a small green chair, faced him. + +Missy was very anxious to get married, and as he was a suitable +match and she also liked him, she had accustomed herself to the +thought that he should be hers (not she his). To lose him would +be very mortifying. She now began talking to him in order to get +him to explain his intentions. + +"I see something has happened," she said. "Tell me, what is the +matter with you?" + +He remembered the meeting in the law court, and frowned and +blushed. + +"Yes, something has happened," he said, wishing to be truthful; +"a very unusual and serious event." + +"What is it, then? Can you not tell me what it is?" She was +pursuing her aim with that unconscious yet obstinate cunning +often observable in the mentally diseased. + +"Not now. Please do not ask me to tell you. I have not yet had +time fully to consider it," and he blushed still more. + +"And so you will not tell me?" A muscle twitched in her face and +she pushed back the chair she was holding. "Well then, come!" She +shook her head as if to expel useless thoughts, and, faster than +usual, went on in front of him. + +He fancied that her mouth was unnaturally compressed in order to +keep back the tears. He was ashamed of having hurt her, and yet +he knew that the least weakness on his part would mean disaster, +i.e., would bind him to her. And to-day he feared this more than +anything, and silently followed her to the princess's cabinet. + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +MISSY'S MOTHER. + +Princess Sophia Vasilievna, Missy's mother, had finished her very +elaborate and nourishing dinner. (She had it always alone, that +no one should see her performing this unpoetical function.) By +her couch stood a small table with her coffee, and she was +smoking a pachitos. Princess Sophia Vasilievna was a long, thin +woman, with dark hair, large black eyes and long teeth, and still +pretended to be young. + +Her intimacy with the doctor was being talked about. Nekhludoff +had known that for some time; but when he saw the doctor sitting +by her couch, his oily, glistening beard parted in the middle, he +not only remembered the rumours about them, but felt greatly +disgusted. By the table, on a low, soft, easy chair, next to +Sophia Vasilievna, sat Kolosoff, stirring his coffee. A glass of +liqueur stood on the table. Missy came in with Nekhludoff, but +did not remain in the room. + +"When mamma gets tired of you and drives you away, then come to +me," she said, turning to Kolosoff and Nekhludoff, speaking as if +nothing had occurred; then she went away, smiling merrily and +stepping noiselessly on the thick carpet. + +"How do you do, dear friend? Sit down and talk," said Princess +Sophia Vasilievna, with her affected but very naturally-acted +smile, showing her fine, long teeth--a splendid imitation of what +her own had once been. "I hear that you have come from the Law +Courts very much depressed. I think it must be very trying to a +person with a heart," she added in French. + +"Yes, that is so," said Nekhludoff. "One often feels one's own +de--one feels one has no right to judge." + +"Comme, c'est vrai," she cried, as if struck by the truth of this +remark. She was in the habit of artfully flattering all those +with whom she conversed. "Well, and what of your picture? It does +interest me so. If I were not such a sad invalid I should have +been to see it long ago," she said. + +"I have quite given it up," Nekhludoff replied drily. The +falseness of her flattery seemed as evident to him to-day as her +age, which she was trying to conceal, and he could not put +himself into the right state to behave politely. + +"Oh, that _is_ a pity! Why, he has a real talent for art; I have +it from Repin's own lips," she added, turning to Kolosoff. + +"Why is it she is not ashamed of lying so?" Nekhludoff thought, +and frowned. + +When she had convinced herself that Nekhludoff was in a bad +temper and that one could not get him into an agreeable and +clever conversation, Sophia Vasilievna turned to Kolosoff, asking +his opinion of a new play. She asked it in a tone as if +Kolosoff's opinion would decide all doubts, and each word of this +opinion be worthy of being immortalised. Kolosoff found fault +both with the play and its author, and that led him to express +his views on art. Princess Sophia Vasilievna, while trying at the +same time to defend the play, seemed impressed by the truth of +his arguments, either giving in at once, or at least modifying +her opinion. Nekhludoff looked and listened, but neither saw nor +heard what was going on before him. + +Listening now to Sophia Vasilievna, now to Kolosoff, Nekhludoff +noticed that neither he nor she cared anything about the play or +each other, and that if they talked it was only to gratify the +physical desire to move the muscles of the throat and tongue +after having eaten; and that Kolosoff, having drunk vodka, wine +and liqueur, was a little tipsy. Not tipsy like the peasants who +drink seldom, but like people to whom drinking wine has become a +habit. He did not reel about or talk nonsense, but he was in a +state that was not normal; excited and self-satisfied. +Nekhludoff also noticed that during the conversation Princess +Sophia Vasilievna kept glancing uneasily at the window, through +which a slanting ray of sunshine, which might vividly light up +her aged face, was beginning to creep up. + +"How true," she said in reference to some remark of Kolosoff's, +touching the button of an electric bell by the side of her couch. +The doctor rose, and, like one who is at home, left the room +without saying anything. Sophia Vasilievna followed him with her +eyes and continued the conversation. + +"Please, Philip, draw these curtains," she said, pointing to the +window, when the handsome footman came in answer to the bell. +"No; whatever you may say, there is some mysticism in him; +without mysticism there can be no poetry," she said, with one of +her black eyes angrily following the footman's movements as he +was drawing the curtains. "Without poetry, mysticism is +superstition; without mysticism, poetry is--prose," she +continued, with a sorrowful smile, still not losing sight of the +footman and the curtains. "Philip, not that curtain; the one on +the large window," she exclaimed, in a suffering tone. Sophia +Vasilievna was evidently pitying herself for having to make the +effort of saying these words; and, to soothe her feelings, she +raised to her lips a scented, smoking cigarette with her jewel- +bedecked fingers. + +The broad-chested, muscular, handsome Philip bowed slightly, as +if begging pardon; and stepping lightly across the carpet with +his broad-calved, strong, legs, obediently and silently went to +the other window, and, looking at the princess, carefully began +to arrange the curtain so that not a single ray dared fall on +her. But again he did not satisfy her, and again she had to +interrupt the conversation about mysticism, and correct in a +martyred tone the unintelligent Philip, who was tormenting her so +pitilessly. For a moment a light flashed in Philip's eyes. + +"'The devil take you! What do you want?' was probably what he +said to himself," thought Nekhludoff, who had been observing all +this scene. But the strong, handsome Philip at once managed to +conceal the signs of his impatience, and went on quietly carrying +out the orders of the worn, weak, false Sophia Vasilievna. + +"Of course, there is a good deal of truth in Lombroso's +teaching," said Kolosoff, lolling back in the low chair and +looking at Sophia Vasilievna with sleepy eyes; "but he +over-stepped the mark. Oh, yes." + +"And you? Do you believe in heredity?" asked Sophia Vasilievna, +turning to Nekhludoff, whose silence annoyed her. "In heredity?" +he asked. "No, I don't." At this moment his whole mind was taken +up by strange images that in some unaccountable way rose up in +his imagination. By the side of this strong and handsome Philip +he seemed at this minute to see the nude figure of Kolosoff as an +artist's model; with his stomach like a melon, his bald head, and +his arms without muscle, like pestles. In the same dim way the +limbs of Sophia Vasilievna, now covered with silks and velvets, +rose up in his mind as they must be in reality; but this mental +picture was too horrid and he tried to drive it away. + +"Well, you know Missy is waiting for you," she said. "Go and find +her. She wants to play a new piece by Grieg to you; it is most +interesting." + +"She did not mean to play anything; the woman is simply lying, +for some reason or other," thought Nekhludoff, rising and +pressing Sophia Vasilievna's transparent and bony, ringed hand. + +Katerina Alexeevna met him in the drawing-room, and at once +began, in French, as usual: + +"I see the duties of a juryman act depressingly upon you." + +"Yes; pardon me, I am in low spirits to-day, and have no right to +weary others by my presence," said Nekhludoff. + +"Why are you in low spirits?" + +"Allow me not to speak about that," he said, looking round for +his hat. + +"Don't you remember how you used to say that we must always tell +the truth? And what cruel truths you used to tell us all! Why do +you not wish to speak out now? Don't you remember, Missy?" she +said, turning to Missy, who had just come in. + +"We were playing a game then," said Nekhludoff, seriously; "one +may tell the truth in a game, but in reality we are so bad--I +mean I am so bad--that I, at least, cannot tell the truth." + +"Oh, do not correct yourself, but rather tell us why _we_ are +so bad," said Katerina Alexeevna, playing with her words and +pretending not to notice how serious Nekhludoff was. + +"Nothing is worse than to confess to being in low spirits," said +Missy. "I never do it, and therefore am always in good spirits." + +Nekhludoff felt as a horse must feel when it is being caressed to +make it submit to having the bit put in its mouth and be +harnessed, and to-day he felt less than ever inclined to draw. + +"Well, are you coming into my room? We will try to cheer you up." + +He excused himself, saying he had to be at home, and began taking +leave. Missy kept his hand longer than usual. + +"Remember that what is important to you is important to your +friends," she said. "Are you coming tomorrow?" + +"I hardly expect to," said Nekhludoff; and feeling ashamed, +without knowing whether for her or for himself, he blushed and +went away. + +"What is it? _Comme cela m'intrigue_," said Katerina Alexeevna. "I +must find it out. I suppose it is some _affaire d'amour propre; il +est tres susceptible, notre cher Mitia_." + +"_Plutot une affaire d'amour sale_," Missy was going to say, but +stopped and looked down with a face from which all the light had +gone--a very different face from the one with which she had +looked at him. She would not mention to Katerina Alexeevna even, +so vulgar a pun, but only said, "We all have our good and our bad +days." + +"Is it possible that he, too, will deceive?" she thought; "after +all that has happened it would be very bad of him." + +If Missy had had to explain what she meant by "after all that has +happened," she could have said nothing definite, and yet she knew +that he had not only excited her hopes but had almost given her a +promise. No definite words had passed between them--only looks +and smiles and hints; and yet she considered him as her own, and +to lose him would be very hard. + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +THE AWAKENING. + +"Shameful and stupid, horrid and shameful!" Nekhludoff kept +saying to himself, as he walked home along the familiar streets. +The depression he had felt whilst speaking to Missy would not +leave him. He felt that, looking at it externally, as it were, he +was in the right, for he had never said anything to her that +could be considered binding, never made her an offer; but he knew +that in reality he had bound himself to her, had promised to be +hers. And yet to-day he felt with his whole being that he could +not marry her. + +"Shameful and horrid, horrid and shameful!" he repeated to +himself, with reference not only to his relations with Missy but +also to the rest. "Everything is horrid and shameful," he +muttered, as he stepped into the porch of his house. "I am not +going to have any supper," he said to his manservant Corney, who +followed him into the dining-room, where the cloth was laid for +supper and tea. "You may go." + +"Yes, sir," said Corney, yet he did not go, but began clearing +the supper off the table. Nekhludoff looked at Corney with a +feeling of ill-will. He wished to be left alone, and it seemed to +him that everybody was bothering him in order to spite him. When +Corney had gone away with the supper things, Nekhludoff moved to +the tea urn and was about to make himself some tea, but hearing +Agraphena Petrovna's footsteps, he went hurriedly into the +drawing-room, to avoid being seen by her, and shut the door after +him. In this drawing-room his mother had died three months +before. On entering the room, in which two lamps with reflectors +were burning, one lighting up his father's and the other his +mother's portrait, he remembered what his last relations with his +mother had been. And they also seemed shameful and horrid. He +remembered how, during the latter period of her illness, he had +simply wished her to die. He had said to himself that he wished +it for her sake, that she might be released from her suffering, +but in reality he wished to be released from the sight of her +sufferings for his own sake. + +Trying to recall a pleasant image of her, he went up to look at +her portrait, painted by a celebrated artist for 800 roubles. She +was depicted in a very low-necked black velvet dress. There was +something very revolting and blasphemous in this representation +of his mother as a half-nude beauty. It was all the more +disgusting because three months ago, in this very room, lay this +same woman, dried up to a mummy. And he remembered how a few days +before her death she clasped his hand with her bony, discoloured +fingers, looked into his eyes, and said: "Do not judge me, Mitia, +if I have not done what I should," and how the tears came into +her eyes, grown pale with suffering. + +"Ah, how horrid!" he said to himself, looking up once more at the +half-naked woman, with the splendid marble shoulders and arms, +and the triumphant smile on her lips. "Oh, how horrid!" The bared +shoulders of the portrait reminded him of another, a young woman, +whom he had seen exposed in the same way a few days before. It +was Missy, who had devised an excuse for calling him into her +room just as she was ready to go to a ball, so that he should see +her in her ball dress. It was with disgust that he remembered her +fine shoulders and arms. "And that father of hers, with his +doubtful past and his cruelties, and the bel-esprit her mother, +with her doubtful reputation." All this disgusted him, and also +made him feel ashamed. "Shameful and horrid; horrid and shameful!" + +"No, no," he thought; "freedom from all these false relations +with the Korchagins and Mary Vasilievna and the inheritance and +from all the rest must be got. Oh, to breathe freely, to go +abroad, to Rome and work at my picture!" He remembered the doubts +he had about his talent for art. "Well, never mind; only just to +breathe freely. First Constantinople, then Rome. Only just to get +through with this jury business, and arrange with the advocate +first." + +Then suddenly there arose in his mind an extremely vivid picture +of a prisoner with black, slightly-squinting eyes, and how she +began to cry when the last words of the prisoners had been heard; +and he hurriedly put out his cigarette, pressing it into the +ash-pan, lit another, and began pacing up and down the room. One +after another the scenes he had lived through with her rose in +his mind. He recalled that last interview with her. He remembered +the white dress and blue sash, the early mass. "Why, I loved her, +really loved her with a good, pure love, that night; I loved her +even before: yes, I loved her when I lived with my aunts the +first time and was writing my composition." And he remembered +himself as he had been then. A breath of that freshness, youth +and fulness of life seemed to touch him, and he grew painfully +sad. The difference between what he had been then and what he was +now, was enormous--just as great, if not greater than the +difference between Katusha in church that night, and the +prostitute who had been carousing with the merchant and whom they +judged this morning. Then he was free and fearless, and +innumerable possibilities lay ready to open before him; now he +felt himself caught in the meshes of a stupid, empty, valueless, +frivolous life, out of which he saw no means of extricating +himself even if he wished to, which he hardly did. He remembered +how proud he was at one time of his straightforwardness, how he +had made a rule of always speaking the truth, and really had been +truthful; and how he was now sunk deep in lies: in the most +dreadful of lies--lies considered as the truth by all who +surrounded him. And, as far as he could see, there was no way out +of these lies. He had sunk in the mire, got used to it, indulged +himself in it. + +How was he to break off his relations with Mary Vasilievna and +her husband in such a way as to be able to look him and his +children in the eyes? How disentangle himself from Missy? How +choose between the two opposites--the recognition that holding +land was unjust and the heritage from his mother? How atone for +his sin against Katusha? This last, at any rate, could not be +left as it was. He could not abandon a woman he had loved, and +satisfy himself by paying money to an advocate to save her from +hard labour in Siberia. She had not even deserved hard labour. +Atone for a fault by paying money? Had he not then, when he gave +her the money, thought he was atoning for his fault? + +And he clearly recalled to mind that moment when, having caught +her up in the passage, he thrust the money into her bib and ran +away. "Oh, that money!" he thought with the same horror and +disgust he had then felt. "Oh, dear! oh, dear! how disgusting," +he cried aloud as he had done then. "Only a scoundrel, a knave, +could do such a thing. And I am that knave, that scoundrel!" He +went on aloud: "But is it possible?"--he stopped and stood +still--"is it possible that I am really a scoundrel? . . . +Well, who but I?" he answered himself. "And then, is this the +only thing?" he went on, convicting himself. "Was not my conduct +towards Mary Vasilievna and her husband base and disgusting? And +my position with regard to money? To use riches considered by me +unlawful on the plea that they are inherited from my mother? And +the whole of my idle, detestable life? And my conduct towards +Katusha to crown all? Knave and scoundrel! Let men judge me as +they like, I can deceive them; but myself I cannot deceive." + +And, suddenly, he understood that the aversion he had lately, and +particularly to-day, felt for everybody--the Prince and Sophia +Vasilievna and Corney and Missy--was an aversion for himself. +And, strange to say, in this acknowledgement of his baseness +there was something painful yet joyful and quieting. + +More than once in Nekhludoff's life there had been what he called +a "cleansing of the soul." By "cleansing of the soul" he meant a +state of mind in which, after a long period of sluggish inner +life, a total cessation of its activity, he began to clear out +all the rubbish that had accumulated in his soul, and was the +cause of the cessation of the true life. His soul needed +cleansing as a watch does. After such an awakening Nekhludoff +always made some rules for himself which he meant to follow +forever after, wrote his diary, and began afresh a life which he +hoped never to change again. "Turning over a new leaf," he called +it to himself in English. But each time the temptations of the +world entrapped him, and without noticing it he fell again, often +lower than before. + +Thus he had several times in his life raised and cleansed +himself. The first time this happened was during the summer he +spent with his aunts; that was his most vital and rapturous +awakening, and its effects had lasted some time. Another +awakening was when he gave up civil service and joined the army +at war time, ready to sacrifice his life. But here the choking-up +process was soon accomplished. Then an awakening came when he +left the army and went abroad, devoting himself to art. + +From that time until this day a long period had elapsed without +any cleansing, and therefore the discord between the demands of +his conscience and the life he was leading was greater than it +had ever been before. He was horror-struck when he saw how great +the divergence was. It was so great and the defilement so +complete that he despaired of the possibility of getting +cleansed. "Have you not tried before to perfect yourself and +become better, and nothing has come of it?" whispered the voice +of the tempter within. "What is the use of trying any more? Are +you the only one?--All are alike, such is life," whispered the +voice. But the free spiritual being, which alone is true, alone +powerful, alone eternal, had already awakened in Nekhludoff, and +he could not but believe it. Enormous though the distance was +between what he wished to be and what he was, nothing appeared +insurmountable to the newly-awakened spiritual being. + +"At any cost I will break this lie which binds me and confess +everything, and will tell everybody the truth, and act the truth," +he said resolutely, aloud. "I shall tell Missy the truth, tell +her I am a profligate and cannot marry her, and have only +uselessly upset her. I shall tell Mary Vasilievna. . . Oh, there +is nothing to tell her. I shall tell her husband that I, +scoundrel that I am, have been deceiving him. I shall dispose of +the inheritance in such a way as to acknowledge the truth. I +shall tell her, Katusha, that I am a scoundrel and have sinned +towards her, and will do all I can to ease her lot. Yes, I will +see her, and will ask her to forgive me. + +"Yes, I will beg her pardon, as children do." . . . He +stopped---"will marry her if necessary." He stopped again, folded +his hands in front of his breast as he used to do when a little +child, lifted his eyes, and said, addressing some one: "Lord, +help me, teach me, come enter within me and purify me of all this +abomination." + +He prayed, asking God to help him, to enter into him and cleanse +him; and what he was praying for had happened already: the God +within him had awakened his consciousness. He felt himself one +with Him, and therefore felt not only the freedom, fulness and +joy of life, but all the power of righteousness. All, all the +best that a man could do he felt capable of doing. + +His eyes filled with tears as he was saying all this to himself, +good and bad tears: good because they were tears of joy at the +awakening of the spiritual being within him, the being which had +been asleep all these years; and bad tears because they were +tears of tenderness to himself at his own goodness. + +He felt hot, and went to the window and opened it. The window +opened into a garden. It was a moonlit, quiet, fresh night; a +vehicle rattled past, and then all was still. The shadow of a +tall poplar fell on the ground just opposite the window, and all +the intricate pattern of its bare branches was clearly defined on +the clean swept gravel. To the left the roof of a coach-house +shone white in the moonlight, in front the black shadow of the +garden wall was visible through the tangled branches of the +trees. + +Nekhludoff gazed at the roof, the moonlit garden, and the shadows +of the poplar, and drank in the fresh, invigorating air. + +"How delightful, how delightful; oh, God, how delightful," he +said, meaning that which was going on in his soul. + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +MASLOVA IN PRISON. + +Maslova reached her cell only at six in the evening, tired and +footsore, having, unaccustomed as she was to walking, gone 10 +miles on the stony road that day. She was crushed by the +unexpectedly severe sentence and tormented by hunger. During the +first interval of her trial, when the soldiers were eating bread +and hard-boiled eggs in her presence, her mouth watered and she +realised she was hungry, but considered it beneath her dignity to +beg of them. Three hours later the desire to eat had passed, and +she felt only weak. It was then she received the unexpected +sentence. At first she thought she had made a mistake; she could +not imagine herself as a convict in Siberia, and could not +believe what she heard. But seeing the quiet, business-like faces +of judges and jury, who heard this news as if it were perfectly +natural and expected, she grew indignant, and proclaimed loudly +to the whole Court that she was not guilty. Finding that her cry +was also taken as something natural and expected, and feeling +incapable of altering matters, she was horror-struck and began to +weep in despair, knowing that she must submit to the cruel and +surprising injustice that had been done her. What astonished her +most was that young men--or, at any rate, not old men--the same +men who always looked so approvingly at her (one of them, the +public prosecutor, she had seen in quite a different humour) had +condemned her. While she was sitting in the prisoners' room +before the trial and during the intervals, she saw these men +looking in at the open door pretending they had to pass there on +some business, or enter the room and gaze on her with approval. +And then, for some unknown reason, these same men had condemned +her to hard labour, though she was innocent of the charge laid +against her. At first she cried, but then quieted down and sat +perfectly stunned in the prisoners' room, waiting to be led back. +She wanted only two things now--tobacco and strong drink. In this +state Botchkova and Kartinkin found her when they were led into +the same room after being sentenced. Botchkova began at once to +scold her, and call her a "convict." + +"Well! What have you gained? justified yourself, have you? What +you have deserved, that you've got. Out in Siberia you'll give up +your finery, no fear!" + +Maslova sat with her hands inside her sleeves, hanging her head +and looking in front of her at the dirty floor without moving, +only saying: "I don't bother you, so don't you bother me. I don't +bother you, do I?" she repeated this several times, and was +silent again. She did brighten up a little when Botchkova and +Kartinkin were led away and an attendant brought her three +roubles. + +"Are you Maslova?" he asked. "Here you are; a lady sent it you," +he said, giving her the money. + +"A lady--what lady?" + +"You just take it. I'm not going to talk to you." + +This money was sent by Kitaeva, the keeper of the house in which +she used to live. As she was leaving the court she turned to the +usher with the question whether she might give Maslova a little +money. The usher said she might. Having got permission, she +removed the three-buttoned Swedish kid glove from her plump, +white hand, and from an elegant purse brought from the back folds +of her silk skirt took a pile of coupons, [in Russia coupons cut +off interest-bearing papers are often used as money] just cut +off from the interest-bearing papers which she had earned in her +establishment, chose one worth 2 roubles and 50 copecks, added +two 20 and one 10-copeck coins, and gave all this to the usher. +The usher called an attendant, and in his presence gave the +money. + +"Belease to giff it accurately," said Carolina Albertovna +Kitaeva. + +The attendant was hurt by her want of confidence, and that was +why he treated Maslova so brusquely. Maslova was glad of the +money, because it could give her the only thing she now desired. +"If I could but get cigarettes and take a whiff!" she said to +herself, and all her thoughts centred on the one desire to smoke +and drink. She longed for spirits so that she tasted them and +felt the strength they would give her; and she greedily breathed +in the air when the fumes of tobacco reached her from the door of +a room that opened into the corridor. But she had to wait long, +for the secretary, who should have given the order for her to go, +forgot about the prisoners while talking and even disputing with +one of the advocates about the article forbidden by the censor. + +At last, about five o'clock, she was allowed to go, and was led +away through the back door by her escort, the Nijni man and the +Tchoovash. Then, still within the entrance to the Law Courts, she +gave them 50 copecks, asking them to get her two rolls and some +cigarettes. The Tchoovash laughed, took the money, and said, "All +right; I'll get 'em," and really got her the rolls and the +cigarettes and honestly returned the change. She was not allowed +to smoke on the way, and, with her craving unsatisfied, she +continued her way to the prison. When she was brought to the gate +of the prison, a hundred convicts who had arrived by rail were +being led in. The convicts, bearded, clean-shaven, old, young, +Russians, foreigners, some with their heads shaved and rattling +with the chains on their feet, filled the anteroom with dust, +noise and an acid smell of perspiration. Passing Maslova, all the +convicts looked at her, and some came up to her and brushed her +as they passed. + +"Ay, here's a wench--a fine one," said one. + +"My respects to you, miss," said another, winking at her. One +dark man with a moustache, the rest of his face and the back of +his head clean shaved, rattling with his chains and catching her +feet in them, sprang near and embraced her. + +"What! don't you know your chum? Come, come; don't give yourself +airs," showing his teeth and his eyes glittering when she pushed +him away. + +"You rascal! what are you up to?" shouted the inspector's +assistant, coming in from behind. The convict shrank back and +jumped away. The assistant assailed Maslova. + +"What are you here for?" + +Maslova was going to say she had been brought back from the Law +Courts, but she was so tired that she did not care to speak. + +"She has returned from the Law Courts, sir," said one of the +soldiers, coming forward with his fingers lifted to his cap. + +"Well, hand her over to the chief warder. I won't have this sort +of thing." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Sokoloff, take her in!" shouted the assistant inspector. + +The chief warder came up, gave Maslova a slap on the shoulder, +and making a sign with his head for her to follow led her into +the corridor of the women's ward. There she was searched, and as +nothing prohibited was found on her (she had hidden her box of +cigarettes inside a roll) she was led to the cell she had left in +the morning. + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +THE CELL. + +The cell in which Maslova was imprisoned was a large room 21 feet +long and 10 feet broad; it had two windows and a large stove. +Two-thirds of the space were taken up by shelves used as beds. +The planks they were made of had warped and shrunk. Opposite the +door hung a dark-coloured icon with a wax candle sticking to it +and a bunch of everlastings hanging down from it. By the door to +the right there was a dark spot on the floor on which stood a +stinking tub. The inspection had taken place and the women were +locked up for the night. + +The occupants of this room were 15 persons, including three +children. It was still quite light. Only two of the women were +lying down: a consumptive woman imprisoned for theft, and an +idiot who spent most of her time in sleep and who was arrested +because she had no passport. The consumptive woman was not +asleep, but lay with wide open eyes, her cloak folded under her +head, trying to keep back the phlegm that irritated her throat, +and not to cough. + +Some of the other women, most of whom had nothing on but coarse +brown holland chemises, stood looking out of the window at the +convicts down in the yard, and some sat sewing. Among the latter +was the old woman, Korableva, who had seen Maslova off in the +morning. She was a tall, strong, gloomy-looking woman; her fair +hair, which had begun to turn grey on the temples, hung down in a +short plait. She was sentenced to hard labour in Siberia because +she had killed her husband with an axe for making up to their +daughter. She was at the head of the women in the cell, and found +means of carrying on a trade in spirits with them. Beside her sat +another woman sewing a coarse canvas sack. This was the wife of a +railway watchman, [There are small watchmen's cottages at +distances of about one mile from each other along the Russian +railways, and the watchmen or their wives have to meet every +train.] imprisoned for three months because she did not come out +with the flags to meet a train that was passing, and an accident +had occurred. She was a short, snub-nosed woman, with small, +black eyes; kind and talkative. The third of the women who were +sewing was Theodosia, a quiet young girl, white and rosy, very +pretty, with bright child's eyes, and long fair plaits which she +wore twisted round her head. She was in prison for attempting to +poison her husband. She had done this immediately after her +wedding (she had been given in marriage without her consent at +the age of 16) because her husband would give her no peace. But +in the eight months during which she had been let out on bail, +she had not only made it up with her husband, but come to love +him, so that when her trial came they were heart and soul to one +another. Although her husband, her father-in-law, but especially +her mother-in-law, who had grown very fond of her, did all they +could to get her acquitted, she was sentenced to hard labour in +Siberia. The kind, merry, ever-smiling Theodosia had a place next +Maslova's on the shelf bed, and had grown so fond of her that she +took it upon herself as a duty to attend and wait on her. Two +other women were sitting without any work at the other end of the +shelf bedstead. One was a woman of about 40, with a pale, thin +face, who once probably had been very handsome. She sat with her +baby at her thin, white breast. The crime she had committed was +that when a recruit was, according to the peasants' view, +unlawfully taken from their village, and the people stopped the +police officer and took the recruit away from him, she (an aunt +of the lad unlawfully taken) was the first to catch hold of the +bridle of the horse on which he was being carried off. The other, +who sat doing nothing, was a kindly, grey-haired old woman, +hunchbacked and with a flat bosom. She sat behind the stove on +the bedshelf, and pretended to catch a fat four-year-old boy, who +ran backwards and forwards in front of her, laughing gaily. This +boy had only a little shirt on and his hair was cut short. As he +ran past the old woman he kept repeating, "There, haven't caught +me!" This old woman and her son were accused of incendiarism. +She bore her imprisonment with perfect cheerfulness, but was +concerned about her son, and chiefly about her "old man," who she +feared would get into a terrible state with no one to wash for +him. Besides these seven women, there were four standing at one +of the open windows, holding on to the iron bars. They were +making signs and shouting to the convicts whom Maslova had met +when returning to prison, and who were now passing through the +yard. One of these women was big and heavy, with a flabby body, +red hair, and freckled on her pale yellow face, her hands, and +her fat neck. She shouted something in a loud, raucous voice, and +laughed hoarsely. This woman was serving her term for theft. +Beside her stood an awkward, dark little woman, no bigger than a +child of ten, with a long waist and very short legs, a red, +blotchy face, thick lips which did not hide her long teeth, and +eyes too far apart. She broke by fits and starts into screeching +laughter at what was going on in the yard. She was to be tried +for stealing and incendiarism. They called her Khoroshavka. +Behind her, in a very dirty grey chemise, stood a thin, +miserable-looking pregnant woman, who was to be tried for +concealment of theft. This woman stood silent, but kept smiling +with pleasure and approval at what was going on below. With these +stood a peasant woman of medium height, the mother of the boy who +was playing with the old woman and of a seven-year-old girl. +These were in prison with her because she had no one to leave +them with. She was serving her term of imprisonment for illicit +sale of spirits. She stood a little further from the window +knitting a stocking, and though she listened to the other +prisoners' words she shook her head disapprovingly, frowned, and +closed her eyes. But her seven-year-old daughter stood in her +little chemise, her flaxen hair done up in a little pigtail, her +blue eyes fixed, and, holding the red-haired woman by the skirt, +attentively listened to the words of abuse that the women and the +convicts flung at each other, and repeated them softly, as if +learning them by heart. The twelfth prisoner, who paid no +attention to what was going on, was a very tall, stately girl, +the daughter of a deacon, who had drowned her baby in a well. She +went about with bare feet, wearing only a dirty chemise. The +thick, short plait of her fair hair had come undone and hung down +dishevelled, and she paced up and down the free space of the +cell, not looking at any one, turning abruptly every time she +came up to the wall. + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +THE PRISONERS. + +When the padlock rattled and the door opened to let Maslova into +the cell, all turned towards her. Even the deacon's daughter +stopped for a moment and looked at her with lifted brows before +resuming her steady striding up and down. + +Korableva stuck her needle into the brown sacking and looked +questioningly at Maslova through her spectacles. "Eh, eh, deary +me, so you have come back. And I felt sure they'd acquit you. So +you've got it?" She took off her spectacles and put her work down +beside her on the shelf bed. + +"And here have I and the old lady been saying, 'Why, it may well +be they'll let her go free at once.' Why, it happens, ducky, +they'll even give you a heap of money sometimes, that's sure," +the watchman's wife began, in her singing voice: "Yes, we were +wondering, 'Why's she so long?' And now just see what it is. +Well, our guessing was no use. The Lord willed otherwise," she +went on in musical tones. + +"Is it possible? Have they sentenced you?" asked Theodosia, with +concern, looking at Maslova with her bright blue, child-like +eyes; and her merry young face changed as if she were going to +cry. + +Maslova did not answer, but went on to her place, the second from +the end, and sat down beside Korableva. + +"Have you eaten anything?" said Theodosia, rising and coming up +to Maslova. + +Maslova gave no reply, but putting the rolls on the bedstead, +took off her dusty cloak, the kerchief off her curly black head, +and began pulling off her shoes. The old woman who had been +playing with the boy came up and stood in front of Maslova. "Tz, +tz, tz," she clicked with her tongue, shaking her head pityingly. +The boy also came up with her, and, putting out his upper lip, +stared with wide open eyes at the roll Maslova had brought. When +Maslova saw the sympathetic faces of her fellow-prisoners, her +lips trembled and she felt inclined to cry, but she succeeded in +restraining herself until the old woman and the boy came up. +When she heard the kind, pitying clicking of the old woman's +tongue, and met the boy's serious eyes turned from the roll to +her face, she could bear it no longer; her face quivered and she +burst into sobs. + +"Didn't I tell you to insist on having a proper advocate?" said +Norableva. "Well, what is it? Exile?" + +Maslova could not answer, but took from inside the roll a box of +cigarettes, on which was a picture of a lady with hair done up +very high and dress cut low in front, and passed the box to +Korableva. Korableva looked at it and shook her head, chiefly +because see did not approve of Maslova's putting her money to +such bad use; but still she took out a cigarette, lit it at the +lamp, took a puff, and almost forced it into Maslova's hand. +Maslova, still crying, began greedily to inhale the tobacco +smoke. "Penal servitude," she muttered, blowing out the smoke and +sobbing. + +"Don't they fear the Lord, the cursed soul-slayers?" muttered +Korableva, "sentencing the lass for nothing." At this moment the +sound of loud, coarse laughter came from the women who were still +at the window. The little girl also laughed, and her childish +treble mixed with the hoarse and screeching laughter of the +others. One of the convicts outside had done something that +produced this effect on the onlookers. + +"Lawks! see the shaved hound, what he's doing," said the +red-haired woman, her whole fat body shaking with laughter; and +leaning against the grating she shouted meaning less obscene +words. + +"Ugh, the fat fright's cackling," said Korableva, who disliked +the red-haired woman. Then, turning to Maslova again, she asked: +"How many years?" + +"Four," said Maslova, and the tears ran down her cheeks in such +profusion that one fell on the cigarette. Maslova crumpled it up +angrily and took another. + +Though the watchman's wife did not smoke she picked up the +cigarette Maslova had thrown away and began straightening it out, +talking unceasingly. + +"There, now, ducky, so it's true," she said. "Truth's gone to the +dogs and they do what they please, and here we were guessing that +you'd go free. Norableva says, 'She'll go free.' I say, 'No,' say +I. 'No, dear, my heart tells me they'll give it her.' And so it's +turned out," she went on, evidently listening with pleasure to +her own voice. + +The women who had been standing by the window now also came up to +Maslova, the convicts who had amused them having gone away. The +first to come up were the woman imprisoned for illicit trade in +spirits, and her little girl. "Why such a hard sentence?" asked +the woman, sitting down by Maslova and knitting fast. + +"Why so hard? Because there's no money. That's why! Had there +been money, and had a good lawyer that's up to their tricks been +hired, they'd have acquitted her, no fear," said Korableva. +"There's what's-his-name--that hairy one with the long nose. He'd +bring you out clean from pitch, mum, he would. Ah, if we'd only +had him!" + +"Him, indeed," said Khoroshavka. "Why, he won't spit at you for +less than a thousand roubles." + +"Seems you've been born under an unlucky star," interrupted the +old woman who was imprisoned for incendiarism. "Only think, to +entice the lad's wife and lock him himself up to feed vermin, and +me, too, in my old days--" she began to retell her story for the +hundredth time. "If it isn't the beggar's staff it's the prison. +Yes, the beggar's staff and the prison don't wait for an +invitation." + +"Ah, it seems that's the way with all of them," said the spirit +trader; and after looking at her little girl she put down her +knitting, and, drawing the child between her knees, began to +search her head with deft fingers. "Why do you sell spirits?" she +went on. "Why? but what's one to feed the children on?" + +These words brought back to Maslova's mind her craving for drink. + +"A little vodka," she said to Korableva, wiping the tears with +her sleeve and sobbing less frequently. + +"All right, fork out," said Korableva. + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +A PRISON QUARREL. + +Maslova got the money, which she had also hidden in a roll, and +passed the coupon to Korableva. Korableva accepted it, though she +could not read, trusting to Khoroshavka, who knew everything, and +who said that the slip of paper was worth 2 roubles 50 copecks, +then climbed up to the ventilator, where she had hidden a small +flask of vodka. Seeing this, the women whose places were further +off went away. Meanwhile Maslova shook the dust out of her cloak +and kerchief, got up on the bedstead, and began eating a roll. + +"I kept your tea for you," said Theodosia, getting down from the +shelf a mug and a tin teapot wrapped in a rag, "but I'm afraid it +is quite cold." The liquid was quite cold and tasted more of tin +than of tea, yet Maslova filled the mug and began drinking it +with her roll. "Finashka, here you are," she said, breaking off a +bit of the roll and giving it to the boy, who stood looking at +her mouth. + +Meanwhile Korableva handed the flask of vodka and a mug to +Maslova, who offered some to her and to Khoroshavka. These +prisoners were considered the aristocracy of the cell because +they had some money, and shared what they possessed with the +others. + +In a few moments Maslova brightened up and related merrily what +had happened at the court, and what had struck her most, i.e., +how all the men had followed her wherever she went. In the court +they all looked at her, she said, and kept coming into the +prisoners' room while she was there. + +"One of the soldiers even says, 'It's all to look at you that +they come.' One would come in, 'Where is such a paper?' or +something, but I see it is not the paper he wants; he just +devours me with his eyes," she said, shaking her head. "Regular +artists." + +"Yes, that's so," said the watchman's wife, and ran on in her +musical strain, "they're like flies after sugar." + +"And here, too," Maslova interrupted her, "the same thing. They +can do without anything else. But the likes of them will go +without bread sooner than miss that! Hardly had they brought me +back when in comes a gang from the railway. They pestered me so, +I did not know how to rid myself of them. Thanks to the +assistant, he turned them off. One bothered so, I hardly got +away." + +"What's he like?" asked Khoroshevka. + +"Dark, with moustaches." + +"It must be him." + +"Him--who?" + +"Why, Schegloff; him as has just gone by." + +"What's he, this Schegloff?" + +"What, she don't know Schegloff? Why, he ran twice from Siberia. +Now they've got him, but he'll run away. The warders themselves +are afraid of him," said Khoroshavka, who managed to exchange +notes with the male prisoners and knew all that went on in the +prison. "He'll run away, that's flat." + +"If he does go away you and I'll have to stay," said Korableva, +turning to Maslova, "but you'd better tell us now what the +advocate says about petitioning. Now's the time to hand it in." + +Maslova answered that she knew nothing about it. + +At that moment the red-haired woman came up to the "aristocracy" +with both freckled hands in her thick hair, scratching her head +with her nails. + +"I'll tell you all about it, Katerina," she began. "First and +foremost, you'll have to write down you're dissatisfied with the +sentence, then give notice to the Procureur." + +"What do you want here?" said Korableva angrily; "smell the +vodka, do you? Your chatter's not wanted. We know what to do +without your advice." + +"No one's speaking to you; what do you stick your nose in for?" + +"It's vodka you want; that's why you come wriggling yourself in +here." + +"Well, offer her some," said Maslova, always ready to share +anything she possessed with anybody. + +"I'll offer her something." + +"Come on then," said the red-haired one, advancing towards +Korableva. "Ah! think I'm afraid of such as you?" + +"Convict fright!" + +"That's her as says it." + +"Slut!" + +"I? A slut? Convict! Murderess!" screamed the red-haired one. + +"Go away, I tell you," said Korableva gloomily, but the +red-haired one came nearer and Korableva struck her in the chest. +The red-haired woman seemed only to have waited for this, and +with a sudden movement caught hold of Korableva's hair with one +hand and with the other struck her in the face. Korableva seized +this hand, and Maslova and Khoroshavka caught the red-haired +woman by her arms, trying to pull her away, but she let go the +old woman's hair with her hand only to twist it round her fist. +Korableva, with her head bent to one side, was dealing out blows +with one arm and trying to catch the red-haired woman's hand with +her teeth, while the rest of the women crowded round, screaming +and trying to separate the fighters; even the consumptive one +came up and stood coughing and watching the fight. The children +cried and huddled together. The noise brought the woman warder +and a jailer. The fighting women were separated; and Korableva, +taking out the bits of torn hair from her head, and the +red-haired one, holding her torn chemise together over her yellow +breast, began loudly to complain. + +"I know, it's all the vodka. Wait a bit; I'll tell the inspector +tomorrow. He'll give it you. Can't I smell it? Mind, get it all +out of the way, or it will be the worse for you," said the +warder. "We've no time to settle your disputes. Get to your +places and be quiet." + +But quiet was not soon re-established. For a long time the women +went on disputing and explaining to one another whose fault it +all was. At last the warder and the jailer left the cell, the +women grew quieter and began going to bed, and the old woman went +to the icon and commenced praying. + +"The two jailbirds have met," the red-haired woman suddenly +called out in a hoarse voice from the other end of the shelf +beds, accompanying every word with frightfully vile abuse. + +"Mind you don't get it again," Korableva replied, also adding +words of abuse, and both were quiet again. + +"Had I not been stopped I'd have pulled your damned eyes out," +again began the red-haired one, and an answer of the same kind +followed from Korableva. Then again a short interval and more +abuse. But the intervals became longer and longer, as when a +thunder-cloud is passing, and at last all was quiet. + +All were in bed, some began to snore; and only the old woman, who +always prayed a long time, went on bowing before the icon and the +deacon's daughter, who had got up after the warder left, was +pacing up and down the room again. Maslova kept thinking that she +was now a convict condemned to hard labour, and had twice been +reminded of this--once by Botchkova and once by the red-haired +woman--and she could not reconcile herself to the thought. +Korableva, who lay next to her, turned over in her bed. + +"There now," said Maslova in a low voice; "who would have thought +it? See what others do and get nothing for it." + +"Never mind, girl. People manage to live in Siberia. As for you, +you'll not be lost there either," Korableva said, trying to +comfort her. + +"I know I'll not be lost; still it is hard. It's not such a fate +I want--I, who am used to a comfortable life." + +"Ah, one can't go against God," said Korableva, with a sigh. +"One can't, my dear." + +"I know, granny. Still, it's hard." + +They were silent for a while. + +"Do you hear that baggage?" whispered Korableva, drawing +Maslova's attention to a strange sound proceeding from the other +end of the room. + +This sound was the smothered sobbing of the red-haired woman. The +red-haired woman was crying because she had been abused and had +not got any of the vodka she wanted so badly; also because she +remembered how all her life she had been abused, mocked at, +offended, beaten. Remembering this, she pitied herself, and, +thinking no one heard her, began crying as children cry, sniffing +with her nose and swallowing the salt tears. + +"I'm sorry for her," said Maslova. + +"Of course one is sorry," said Korableva, "but she shouldn't come +bothering." + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +THE LEAVEN AT WORK--NEKHLUDOFF'S DOMESTIC CHANGES. + +The next morning Nekhludoff awoke, conscious that something had +happened to him, and even before he had remembered what it was he +knew it to be something important and good. + +"Katusha--the trial!" Yes, he must stop lying and tell the whole +truth. + +By a strange coincidence on that very morning he received the +long-expected letter from Mary Vasilievna, the wife of the +Marechal de Noblesse, the very letter he particularly needed. +She gave him full freedom, and wished him happiness in his +intended marriage. + +"Marriage!" he repeated with irony. "How far I am from all that +at present." + +And he remembered the plans he had formed the day before, to tell +the husband everything, to make a clean breast of it, and express +his readiness to give him any kind of satisfaction. But this +morning this did not seem so easy as the day before. And, then, +also, why make a man unhappy by telling him what he does not +know? Yes, if he came and asked, he would tell him all, but to go +purposely and tell--no! that was unnecessary. + +And telling the whole truth to Missy seemed just as difficult +this morning. Again, he could not begin to speak without offence. +As in many worldly affairs, something had to remain unexpressed. +Only one thing he decided on, i.e., not to visit there, and to +tell the truth if asked. + +But in connection with Katusha, nothing was to remain unspoken. +"I shall go to the prison and shall tell her every thing, and ask +her to forgive me. And if need be--yes, if need be, I shall marry +her," he thought. + +This idea, that he was ready to sacrifice all on moral grounds, +and marry her, again made him feel very tender towards himself. +Concerning money matters he resolved this morning to arrange them +in accord with his conviction, that the holding of landed +property was unlawful. Even if he should not be strong enough to +give up everything, he would still do what he could, not +deceiving himself or others. + +It was long since he had met the coming day with so much energy. +When Agraphena Petrovna came in, he told her, with more firmness +than he thought himself capable of, that he no longer needed this +lodging nor her services. There had been a tacit understanding +that he was keeping up so large and expensive an establishment +because he was thinking of getting married. The giving up of the +house had, therefore, a special meaning. Agraphena Petrovna +looked at him in surprise. + +"I thank you very much, Agraphena Petrovna, for all your care for +me, but I no longer require so large a house nor so many +servants. If you wish to help me, be so good as to settle about +the things, put them away as it used to be done during mamma's +life, and when Natasha comes she will see to everything." Natasha +was Nekhludoff's sister. + +Agraphena Petrovna shook her head. "See about the things? Why, +they'll be required again," she said. + +"No, they won't, Agraphena Petrovna; I assure you they won't be +required," said Nekhludoff, in answer to what the shaking of her +head had expressed. "Please tell Corney also that I shall pay him +two months' wages, but shall have no further need of him." + +"It is a pity, Dmitri Ivanovitch, that you should think of doing +this," she said. "Well, supposing you go abroad, still you'll +require a place of residence again." + +"You are mistaken in your thoughts, Agraphena Petrovna; I am not +going abroad. If I go on a journey, it will be to quite a +different place." He suddenly blushed very red. "Yes, I must tell +her," he thought; "no hiding; everybody must be told." + +"A very strange and important thing happened to me yesterday. Do +you remember my Aunt Mary Ivanovna's Katusha?" + +"Oh, yes. Why, I taught her how to sew." + +"Well, this Katusha was tried in the Court and I was on the +jury." + +"Oh, Lord! What a pity!" cried Agraphena Petrovna. "What was she +being tried for?" + +"Murder; and it is I have done it all." + +"Well, now this is very strange; how could you do it all?" + +"Yes, I am the cause of it all; and it is this that has altered +all my plans." + +"What difference can it make to you?" + +"This difference: that I, being the cause of her getting on to +that path, must do all I can to help her." + +"That is just according to your own good pleasure; you are not +particularly in fault there. It happens to every one, and if +one's reasonable, it all gets smoothed over and forgotten," she +said, seriously and severely. "Why should you place it to your +account? There's no need. I had already heard before that she had +strayed from the right path. Well, whose fault is it?" + +"Mine! that's why I want to put it right." + +"It is hard to put right." + +"That is my business. But if you are thinking about yourself, +then I will tell you that, as mamma expressed the wish--" + +"I am not thinking about myself. I have been so bountifully +treated by the dear defunct, that I desire nothing. Lisenka" (her +married niece) "has been inviting me, and I shall go to her when +I am not wanted any longer. Only it is a pity you should take +this so to heart; it happens to everybody." + +"Well, I do not think so. And I still beg that you will help me +let this lodging and put away the things. And please do not be +angry with me. I am very, very grateful to you for all you have +done." + +And, strangely, from the moment Nekhludoff realised that it was +he who was so bad and disgusting to himself, others were no +longer disgusting to him; on the contrary, he felt a kindly +respect for Agraphena Petrovna, and for Corney. + +He would have liked to go and confess to Corney also, but +Corney's manner was so insinuatingly deferential that he had not +the resolution to do it. + +On the way to the Law Courts, passing along the same streets with +the same isvostchik as the day before, he was surprised what a +different being he felt himself to be. The marriage with Missy, +which only yesterday seemed so probable, appeared quite +impossible now. The day before he felt it was for him to choose, +and had no doubts that she would be happy to marry him; to-day he +felt himself unworthy not only of marrying, but even of being +intimate with her. "If she only knew what I am, nothing would +induce her to receive me. And only yesterday I was finding fault +with her because she flirted with N---. Anyhow, even if she +consented to marry me, could I be, I won't say happy, but at +peace, knowing that the other was here in prison, and would +to-day or to-morrow he taken to Siberia with a gang of other +prisoners, while I accepted congratulations and made calls with +my young wife; or while I count the votes at the meetings, for +and against the motion brought forward by the rural inspection, +etc., together with the Marechal de Noblesse, whom I abominably +deceive, and afterwards make appointments with his wife (how +abominable!) or while I continue to work at my picture, which +will certainly never get finished? Besides, I have no business to +waste time on such things. I can do nothing of the kind now," he +continued to himself, rejoicing at the change he felt within +himself. "The first thing now is to see the advocate and find out +his decision, and then . . . then go and see her and tell her +everything." + +And when he pictured to himself how he would see her, and tell +her all, confess his sin to her, and tell her that he would do +all in his power to atone for his sin, he was touched at his own +goodness, and the tears came to his eyes. + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +THE ABSURDITY OF LAW--REFLECTIONS OF A JURYMAN. + +On coming into the Law Courts Nekhludoff met the usher of +yesterday, who to-day seemed to him much to be pitied, in the +corridor, and asked him where those prisoners who had been +sentenced were kept, and to whom one had to apply for permission +to visit them. The usher told him that the condemned prisoners +were kept in different places, and that, until they received +their sentence in its final form, the permission to visit them +depended on the president. "I'll come and call you myself, and +take you to the president after the session. The president is not +even here at present. After the session! And now please come in; +we are going to commence." + +Nekhludoff thanked the usher for his kindness, and went into the +jurymen's room. As he was approaching the room, the other jurymen +were just leaving it to go into the court. The merchant had again +partaken of a little refreshment, and was as merry as the day +before, and greeted Nekhludoff like an old friend. And to-day +Peter Gerasimovitch did not arouse any unpleasant feelings in +Nekhludoff by his familiarity and his loud laughter. Nekhludoff +would have liked to tell all the jurymen about his relations to +yesterday's prisoner. "By rights," he thought, "I ought to have +got up yesterday during the trial and disclosed my guilt." + +He entered the court with the other jurymen, and witnessed the +same procedure as the day before. + +"The judges are coming," was again proclaimed, and again three +men, with embroidered collars, ascended the platform, and there +was the same settling of the jury on the high-backed chairs, the +same gendarmes, the same portraits, the same priest, and +Nekhludoff felt that, though he knew what he ought to do, he +could not interrupt all this solemnity. The preparations for the +trials were just the same as the day before, excepting that the +swearing in of the jury and the president's address to them were +omitted. + +The case before the Court this day was one of burglary. The +prisoner, guarded by two gendarmes with naked swords, was a thin, +narrow-chested lad of 20, with a bloodless, sallow face, dressed +in a grey cloak. He sat alone in the prisoner's dock. This boy +was accused of having, together with a companion, broken the lock +of a shed and stolen several old mats valued at 3 roubles [the +rouble is worth a little over two shillings, and contains 100 +copecks] and 67 copecks. According to the indictment, a +policeman had stopped this boy as he was passing with his +companion, who was carrying the mats on his shoulder. The boy and +his companion confessed at once, and were both imprisoned. The +boy's companion, a locksmith, died in prison, and so the boy was +being tried alone. The old mats were lying on the table as the +objects of material evidence. The business was conducted just in +the same manner as the day before, with the whole armoury of +evidence, proofs, witnesses, swearing in, questions, experts, and +cross-examinations. In answer to every question put to him by the +president, the prosecutor, or the advocate, the policeman (one of +the witnesses) in variably ejected the words: "just so," or +"Can't tell." Yet, in spite of his being stupefied, and rendered +a mere machine by military discipline, his reluctance to speak +about the arrest of this prisoner was evident. Another witness, +an old house proprietor, and owner of the mats, evidently a rich +old man, when asked whether the mats were his, reluctantly +identified them as such. When the public prosecutor asked him +what he meant to do with these mats, what use they were to him, +he got angry, and answered: "The devil take those mats; I don't +want them at all. Had I known there would be all this bother +about them I should not have gone looking for them, but would +rather have added a ten-rouble note or two to them, only not to +be dragged here and pestered with questions. I have spent a lot +on isvostchiks. Besides, I am not well. I have been suffering +from rheumatism for the last seven years." It was thus the +witness spoke. + +The accused himself confessed everything, and looking round +stupidly, like an animal that is caught, related how it had all +happened. Still the public prosecutor, drawing up his shoulders +as he had done the day before, asked subtle questions calculated +to catch a cunning criminal. + +In his speech he proved that the theft had been committed from a +dwelling-place, and a lock had been broken; and that the boy, +therefore, deserved a heavy punishment. The advocate appointed by +the Court proved that the theft was not committed from a +dwelling-place, and that, though the crime was a serious one, the +prisoner was not so very dangerous to society as the prosecutor +stated. The president assumed the role of absolute neutrality in +the same way as he had done on the previous day, and impressed on +the jury facts which they all knew and could not help knowing. +Then came an interval, just as the day before, and they smoked; +and again the usher called out "The judges are coming," and in +the same way the two gendarmes sat trying to keep awake and +threatening the prisoner with their naked weapons. + +The proceedings showed that this boy was apprenticed by his +father at a tobacco factory, where he remained five years. This +year he had been discharged by the owner after a strike, and, +having lost his place, he wandered about the town without any +work, drinking all he possessed. In a traktir [cheap restaurant] +he met another like himself, who had lost his place before the +prisoner had, a locksmith by trade and a drunkard. One night, +those two, both drunk, broke the lock of a shed and took the +first thing they happened to lay hands on. They confessed all and +were put in prison, where the locksmith died while awaiting the +trial. The boy was now being tried as a dangerous creature, from +whom society must be protected. + +"Just as dangerous a creature as yesterday's culprit," thought +Nekhludoff, listening to all that was going on before him. "They +are dangerous, and we who judge them? I, a rake, an adulterer, a +deceiver. We are not dangerous. But, even supposing that this boy +is the most dangerous of all that are here in the court, what +should be done from a common-sense point of view when he has +been caught? It is clear that he is not an exceptional evil-doer, +but a most ordinary boy; every one sees it--and that he has +become what he is simply because he got into circumstances that +create such characters, and, therefore, to prevent such a boy +from going wrong the circumstances that create these unfortunate +beings must be done away with. + +"But what do we do? We seize one such lad who happens to get +caught, knowing well that there are thousands like him whom we +have not caught, and send him to prison, where idleness, or most +unwholesome, useless labour is forced on him, in company of +others weakened and ensnared by the lives they have led. And then +we send him, at the public expense, from the Moscow to the +Irkoutsk Government, in company with the most depraved of men. + +"But we do nothing to destroy the conditions in which people like +these are produced; on the contrary, we support the +establishments where they are formed. These establishments are +well known: factories, mills, workshops, public-houses, +gin-shops, brothels. And we do not destroy these places, but, +looking at them as necessary, we support and regulate them. We +educate in this way not one, but millions of people, and then +catch one of them and imagine that we have done something, that +we have guarded ourselves, and nothing more can be expected of +us. Have we not sent him from the Moscow to the Irkoutsk +Government?" Thus thought Nekhludoff with unusual clearness and +vividness, sitting in his high-backed chair next to the colonel, +and listening to the different intonations of the advocates', +prosecutor's, and president's voices, and looking at their +self-confident gestures. "And how much and what hard effort this +pretence requires," continued Nekhludoff in his mind, glancing +round the enormous room, the portraits, lamps, armchairs, +uniforms, the thick walls and large windows; and picturing to +himself the tremendous size of the building, and the still more +ponderous dimensions of the whole of this organisation, with its +army of officials, scribes, watchmen, messengers, not only in +this place, but all over Russia, who receive wages for carrying +on this comedy which no one needs. "Supposing we spent +one-hundredth of these efforts helping these castaways, whom we +now only regard as hands and bodies, required by us for our own +peace and comfort. Had some one chanced to take pity on him and +given some help at the time when poverty made them send him to +town, it might have been sufficient," Nekhludoff thought, looking +at the boy's piteous face. "Or even later, when, after 12 hours' +work at the factory, he was going to the public-house, led away +by his companions, had some one then come and said, 'Don't go, +Vania; it is not right,' he would not have gone, nor got into bad +ways, and would not have done any wrong. + +"But no; no one who would have taken pity on him came across this +apprentice in the years he lived like a poor little animal in the +town, and with his hair cut close so as not to breed vermin, and +ran errands for the workmen. No, all he heard and saw, from the +older workmen and his companions, since he came to live in town, +was that he who cheats, drinks, swears, who gives another a +thrashing, who goes on the loose, is a fine fellow. Ill, his +constitution undermined by unhealthy labour, drink, and +debauchery--bewildered as in a dream, knocking aimlessly about +town, he gets into some sort of a shed, and takes from there some +old mats, which nobody needs--and here we, all of us educated +people, rich or comfortably off, meet together, dressed in good +clothes and fine uniforms, in a splendid apartment, to mock this +unfortunate brother of ours whom we ourselves have ruined. + +"Terrible! It is difficult to say whether the cruelty or the +absurdity is greater, but the one and the other seem to reach +their climax." + +Nekhludoff thought all this, no longer listening to what was +going on, and he was horror-struck by that which was being +revealed to him. He could not understand why he had not been able +to see all this before, and why others were unable to see it. + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +THE PROCUREUR--NEKHLUDOFF REFUSES TO SERVE. + +During an interval Nekhludoff got up and went out into the +corridor, with the intention of not returning to the court. Let +them do what they liked with him, he could take no more part in +this awful and horrid tomfoolery. + +Having inquired where the Procureur's cabinet was he went +straight to him. The attendant did not wish to let him in, saying +that the Procureur was busy, but Nekhludoff paid no heed and went +to the door, where he was met by an official. He asked to be +announced to the Procureur, saying he was on the jury and had a +very important communication to make. + +His title and good clothes were of assistance to him. The +official announced him to the Procureur, and Nekhludoff was let +in. The Procureur met him standing, evidently annoyed at the +persistence with which Nekhludoff demanded admittance. + +"What is it you want?" the Procureur asked, severely. + +"I am on the jury; my name is Nekhludoff, and it is absolutely +necessary for me to see the prisoner Maslova," Nekhludoff said, +quickly and resolutely, blushing, and feeling that he was taking +a step which would have a decisive influence on his life. + +The Procureur was a short, dark man, with short, grizzly hair, +quick, sparkling eyes, and a thick beard cut close on his +projecting lower jaw. + +"Maslova? Yes, of course, I know. She was accused of poisoning," +the Procureur said, quietly. "But why do you want to see her?" +And then, as if wishing to tone down his question, he added, "I +cannot give you the permission without knowing why you require +it." + +"I require it for a particularly important reason." + +"Yes?" said the Procureur, and, lifting his eyes, looked +attentively at Nekhludoff. "Has her case been heard or not?" + +"She was tried yesterday, and unjustly sentenced; she is +innocent." + +"Yes? If she was sentenced only yesterday," went on the +Procureur, paying no attention to Nekhludoff's statement +concerning Maslova's innocence, "she must still be in the +preliminary detention prison until the sentence is delivered in +its final form. Visiting is allowed there only on certain days; I +should advise you to inquire there." + +"But I must see her as soon as possible," Nekhludoff said, his +jaw trembling as he felt the decisive moment approaching. + +"Why must you?" said the Procureur, lifting his brows with some +agitation. + +"Because I betrayed her and brought her to the condition which +exposed her to this accusation." + +"All the same, I cannot see what it has to do with visiting her." + +"This: that whether I succeed or not in getting the sentence +changed I want to follow her, and--marry her," said Nekhludoff, +touched to tears by his own conduct, and at the same time pleased +to see the effect he produced on the Procureur. + +"Really! Dear me!" said the Procureur. "This is certainly a very +exceptional case. I believe you are a member of the Krasnoporsk +rural administration?" he asked, as if he remembered having heard +before of this Nekhludoff, who was now making so strange a +declaration. + +"I beg your pardon, but I do not think that has anything to do +with my request," answered Nekhludoff, flushing angrily. + +"Certainly not," said the Procureur, with a scarcely perceptible +smile and not in the least abashed; "only your wish is so +extraordinary and so out of the common." + +"Well; but can I get the permission?" + +"The permission? Yes, I will give you an order of admittance +directly. Take a seat." + +He went up to the table, sat down, and began to write. "Please +sit down." + +Nekhludoff continued to stand. + +Having written an order of admittance, and handed it to +Nekhludoff, the Procureur looked curiously at him. + +"I must also state that I can no longer take part in the +sessions." + +"Then you will have to lay valid reasons before the Court, as +you, of course, know." + +"My reasons are that I consider all judging not only useless, but +immoral." + +"Yes," said the Procureur, with the same scarcely perceptible +smile, as if to show that this kind of declaration was well known +to him and belonged to the amusing sort. "Yes, but you will +certainly understand that I as Procureur, can not agree with you +on this point. Therefore, I should advise you to apply to the +Court, which will consider your declaration, and find it valid or +not valid, and in the latter case will impose a fine. Apply, +then, to the Court." + +"I have made my declaration, and shall apply nowhere else," +Nekhludoff said, angrily. + +"Well, then, good-afternoon," said the Procureur, bowing his +head, evidently anxious to be rid of this strange visitor. + +"Who was that you had here?" asked one of the members of the +Court, as he entered, just after Nekhludoff left the room. + +"Nekhludoff, you know; the same that used to make all sorts of +strange statements at the Krasnoporsk rural meetings. Just fancy! +He is on the jury, and among the prisoners there is a woman or +girl sentenced to penal servitude, whom he says he betrayed, and +now he wants to marry her." + +"You don't mean to say so." + +"That's what he told me. And in such a strange state of +excitement!" + +"There is something abnormal in the young men of to-day." + +"Oh, but he is not so very young." + +"Yes. But how tiresome your famous Ivoshenka was. He carries the +day by wearying one out. He talked and talked without end." + +"Oh, that kind of people should be simply stopped, or they will +become real obstructionists." + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +NEKHLUDOFF ENDEAVOURS TO VISIT MASLOVA. + +From the Procureur Nekhludoff went straight to the preliminary +detention prison. However, no Maslova was to be found there, and +the inspector explained to Nekhludoff that she would probably be +in the old temporary prison. Nekhludoff went there. + +Yes, Katerina Maslova was there. + +The distance between the two prisons was enormous, and Nekhludoff +only reached the old prison towards evening. He was going up to +the door of the large, gloomy building, but the sentinel stopped +him and rang. A warder came in answer to the bell. Nekhludoff +showed him his order of admittance, but the warder said he could +not let him in without the inspector's permission. Nekhludoff +went to see the inspector. As he was going up the stairs he heard +distant sounds of some complicated bravura, played on the piano. +When a cross servant girl, with a bandaged eye, opened the door +to him, those sounds seemed to escape from the room and to strike +his car. It was a rhapsody of Liszt's, that everybody was tired +of, splendidly played but only to one point. When that point was +reached the same thing was repeated. Nekhludoff asked the +bandaged maid whether the inspector was in. She answered that he +was not in. + +"Will he return soon?" + +The rhapsody again stopped and recommenced loudly and brilliantly +again up to the same charmed point. + +"I will go and ask," and the servant went away. + +"Tell him he is not in and won't be to-day; he is out visiting. +What do they come bothering for?" came the sound of a woman's +voice from behind the door, and again the rhapsody rattled on and +stopped, and the sound of a chair pushed back was heard. It was +plain the irritated pianist meant to rebuke the tiresome visitor, +who had come at an untimely hour. "Papa is not in," a pale girl +with crimped hair said, crossly, coming out into the ante-room, +but, seeing a young man in a good coat, she softened. + +"Come in, please. . . . What is it you want?" + +"I want to see a prisoner in this prison." + +"A political one, I suppose?" + +"No, not a political one. I have a permission from the +Procureur." + +"Well, I don't know, and papa is out; but come in, please," she +said, again, "or else speak to the assistant. He is in the office +at present; apply there. What is your name?" + +"I thank you," said Nekhludoff, without answering her question, +and went out. + +The door was not yet closed after him when the same lively tones +recommenced. In the courtyard Nekhludoff met an officer with +bristly moustaches, and asked for the assistant-inspector. It was +the assistant himself. He looked at the order of admittance, but +said that he could not decide to let him in with a pass for the +preliminary prison. Besides, it was too late. "Please to come +again to-morrow. To morrow, at 10, everybody is allowed to go in. +Come then, and the inspector himself will be at home. Then you +can have the interview either in the common room or, if the +inspector allows it, in the office." + +And so Nekhludoff did not succeed in getting an interview that +day, and returned home. As he went along the streets, excited at +the idea of meeting her, he no longer thought about the Law +Courts, but recalled his conversations with the Procureur and the +inspector's assistant. The fact that he had been seeking an +interview with her, and had told the Procureur, and had been in +two prisons, so excited him that it was long before he could calm +down. When he got home he at once fetched out his diary, that had +long remained untouched, read a few sentences out of it, and then +wrote as follows: + +"For two years I have not written anything in my diary, and +thought I never should return to this childishness. Yet it is not +childishness, but converse with my own self, with this real +divine self which lives in every man. All this time that I slept +there was no one for me to converse with. I was awakened by an +extraordinary event on the 28th of April, in the Law Court, when +I was on the jury. I saw her in the prisoners' dock, the Katusha +betrayed by me, in a prisoner's cloak, condemned to penal +servitude through a strange mistake, and my own fault. I have +just been to the Procureur's and to the prison, but I was not +admitted. I have resolved to do all I can to see her, to confess +to her, and to atone for my sin, even by a marriage. God help me. +My soul is at peace and I am full of joy." + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +MASLOVA RECALLS THE PAST. + +That night Maslova lay awake a long time with her eyes open +looking at the door, in front of which the deacon's daughter kept +passing. She was thinking that nothing would induce her to go to +the island of Sakhalin and marry a convict, but would arrange +matters somehow with one of the prison officials, the secretary, +a warder, or even a warder's assistant. "Aren't they all given +that way? Only I must not get thin, or else I am lost." + +She thought of how the advocate had looked at her, and also the +president, and of the men she met, and those who came in on +purpose at the court. She recollected how her companion, Bertha, +who came to see her in prison, had told her about the student +whom she had "loved" while she was with Kitaeva, and who had +inquired about her, and pitied her very much. She recalled many +to mind, only not Nekhludoff. She never brought back to mind the +days of her childhood and youth, and her love to Nekhludoff. +That would have been too painful. These memories lay untouched +somewhere deep in her soul; she had forgotten him, and never +recalled and never even dreamt of him. To-day, in the court, she +did not recognise him, not only because when she last saw him he +was in uniform, without a beard, and had only a small moustache +and thick, curly, though short hair, and now was bald and +bearded, but because she never thought about him. She had buried +his memory on that terrible dark night when he, returning from +the army, had passed by on the railway without stopping to call +on his aunts. Katusha then knew her condition. Up to that night +she did not consider the child that lay beneath her heart a +burden. But on that night everything changed, and the child +became nothing but a weight. + +His aunts had expected Nekhludoff, had asked him to come and see +them in passing, but he had telegraphed that he could not come, +as he had to be in Petersburg at an appointed time. When Katusha +heard this she made up her mind to go to the station and see him. +The train was to pass by at two o'clock in the night. Katusha +having helped the old ladies to bed, and persuaded a little girl, +the cook's daughter, Mashka, to come with her, put on a pair of +old boots, threw a shawl over her head, gathered up her dress, +and ran to the station. + +It was a warm, rainy, and windy autumn night. The rain now pelted +down in warm, heavy drops, now stopped again. It was too dark to +see the path across the field, and in the wood it was pitch +black, so that although Katusha knew the way well, she got off +the path, and got to the little station where the train stopped +for three minutes, not before, as she had hoped, but after the +second bell had been rung. Hurrying up the platform, Katusha saw +him at once at the windows of a first-class carriage. Two +officers sat opposite each other on the velvet-covered seats, +playing cards. This carriage was very brightly lit up; on the +little table between the seats stood two thick, dripping candles. +He sat in his closefitting breeches on the arm of the seat, +leaning against the back, and laughed. As soon as she recognised +him she knocked at the carriage window with her benumbed hand, +but at that moment the last bell rang, and the train first gave a +backward jerk, and then gradually the carriages began to move +forward. One of the players rose with the cards in his hand, and +looked out. She knocked again, and pressed her face to the +window, but the carriage moved on, and she went alongside looking +in. The officer tried to lower the window, but could not. +Nekhludoff pushed him aside and began lowering it himself. The +train went faster, so that she had to walk quickly. The train +went on still faster and the window opened. The guard pushed her +aside, and jumped in. Katusha ran on, along the wet boards of the +platform, and when she came to the end she could hardly stop +herself from falling as she ran down the steps of the platform. +She was running by the side of the railway, though the +first-class carriage had long passed her, and the second-class +carriages were gliding by faster, and at last the third-class +carriages still faster. But she ran on, and when the last +carriage with the lamps at the back had gone by, she had already +reached the tank which fed the engines, and was unsheltered from +the wind, which was blowing her shawl about and making her skirt +cling round her legs. The shawl flew off her head, but still she +ran on. + +"Katerina Michaelovna, you've lost your shawl!" screamed the +little girl, who was trying to keep up with her. + +Katusha stopped, threw back her head, and catching hold of it +with both hands sobbed aloud. "Gone!" she screamed. + +"He is sitting in a velvet arm-chair and joking and drinking, in +a brightly lit carriage, and I, out here in the mud, in the +darkness, in the wind and the rain, am standing and weeping," she +thought to herself; and sat down on the ground, sobbing so loud +that the little girl got frightened, and put her arms round her, +wet as she was. + +"Come home, dear," she said. + +"When a train passes--then under a carriage, and there will be an +end," Katusha was thinking, without heeding the girl. + +And she made up her mind to do it, when, as it always happens, +when a moment of quiet follows great excitement, he, the +child--his child--made himself known within her. Suddenly all +that a moment before had been tormenting her, so that it had +seemed impossible to live, all her bitterness towards him, and +the wish to revenge herself, even by dying, passed away; she grew +quieter, got up, put the shawl on her head, and went home. + +Wet, muddy, and quite exhausted, she returned, and from that day +the change which brought her where she now was began to operate +in her soul. Beginning from that dreadful night, she ceased +believing in God and in goodness. She had herself believed in +God, and believed that other people also believed in Him; but +after that night she became convinced that no one believed, and +that all that was said about God and His laws was deception and +untruth. He whom she loved, and who had loved her--yes, she knew +that--had thrown her away; had abused her love. Yet he was the +best of all the people she knew. All the rest were still worse. +All that afterwards happened to her strengthened her in this +belief at every step. His aunts, the pious old ladies, turned her +out when she could no longer serve them as she used to. And of +all those she met, the women used her as a means of getting +money, the men, from the old police officer down to the warders +of the prison, looked at her as on an object for pleasure. And no +one in the world cared for aught but pleasure. In this belief the +old author with whom she had come together in the second year of +her life of independence had strengthened her. He had told her +outright that it was this that constituted the happiness of life, +and he called it poetical and aesthetic. + +Everybody lived for himself only, for his pleasure, and all the +talk concerning God and righteousness was deception. And if +sometimes doubts arose in her mind and she wondered why +everything was so ill-arranged in the world that all hurt each +other, and made each other suffer, she thought it best not to +dwell on it, and if she felt melancholy she could smoke, or, +better still, drink, and it would pass. + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +SUNDAY IN PRISON--PREPARING FOR MASS. + +On Sunday morning at five o'clock, when a whistle sounded in the +corridor of the women's ward of the prison, Korableva, who was +already awake, called Maslova. + +"Oh, dear! life again," thought Maslova, with horror, +involuntarily breathing in the air that had become terribly +noisome towards the morning. She wished to fall asleep again, to +enter into the region of oblivion, but the habit of fear overcame +sleepiness, and she sat up and looked round, drawing her feet +under her. The women had all got up; only the elder children were +still asleep. The spirit-trader was carefully drawing a cloak +from under the children, so as not to wake them. The watchman's +wife was hanging up the rags to dry that served the baby as +swaddling clothes, while the baby was screaming desperately in +Theodosia's arms, who was trying to quiet it. The consumptive +woman was coughing with her hands pressed to her chest, while the +blood rushed to her face, and she sighed loudly, almost +screaming, in the intervals of coughing. The fat, red-haired +woman was lying on her back, with knees drawn up, and loudly +relating a dream. The old woman accused of incendiarism was +standing in front of the image, crossing herself and bowing, and +repeating the same words over and over again. The deacon's +daughter sat on the bedstead, looking before her, with a dull, +sleepy face. Khoroshavka was twisting her black, oily, coarse +hair round her fingers. The sound of slipshod feet was heard in +the passage, and the door opened to let in two convicts, dressed +in jackets and grey trousers that did not reach to their ankles. +With serious, cross faces they lifted the stinking tub and +carried it out of the cell. The women went out to the taps in the +corridor to wash. There the red-haired woman again began a +quarrel with a woman from another cell. + +"Is it the solitary cell you want?" shouted an old jailer, +slapping the red-haired woman on her bare, fat back, so that it +sounded through the corridor. "You be quiet." + +"Lawks! the old one's playful," said the woman, taking his action +for a caress. + +"Now, then, be quick; get ready for the mass." Maslova had hardly +time to do her hair and dress when the inspector came with his +assistants. + +"Come out for inspection," cried a jailer. + +Some more prisoners came out of other cells and stood in two rows +along the corridor; each woman had to place her hand on the +shoulder of the woman in front of her. They were all counted. + +After the inspection the woman warder led the prisoners to +church. Maslova and Theodosia were in the middle of a column of +over a hundred women, who had come out of different cells. All +were dressed in white skirts, white jackets, and wore white +kerchiefs on their heads, except a few who had their own coloured +clothes on. These were wives who, with their children, were +following their convict husbands to Siberia. The whole flight of +stairs was filled by the procession. The patter of softly-shod +feet mingled with the voices and now and then a laugh. When +turning, on the landing, Maslova saw her enemy, Botchkova, in +front, and pointed out her angry face to Theodosia. At the bottom +of the stairs the women stopped talking. Bowing and crossing +themselves, they entered the empty church, which glistened with +gilding. Crowding and pushing one another, they took their places +on the right. + +After the women came the men condemned to banishment, those +serving their term in the prison, and those exiled by their +Communes; and, coughing loudly, they took their stand, crowding +the left side and the middle of the church. + +On one side of the gallery above stood the men sentenced to penal +servitude in Siberia, who had been let into the church before the +others. Each of them had half his head shaved, and their presence +was indicated by the clanking of the chains on their feet. On the +other side of the gallery stood those in preliminary confinement, +without chains, their heads not shaved. + +The prison church had been rebuilt and ornamented by a rich +merchant, who spent several tens of thousands of roubles on it, +and it glittered with gay colours and gold. For a time there was +silence in the church, and only coughing, blowing of noses, the +crying of babies, and now and then the rattling of chains, was +heard. But at last the convicts that stood in the middle moved, +pressed against each other, leaving a passage in the centre of +the church, down which the prison inspector passed to take his +place in front of every one in the nave. + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +THE PRISON CHURCH--BLIND LEADERS OF THE BLIND. + +The service began. + +It consisted of the following. The priest, having dressed in a +strange and very inconvenient garb, made of gold cloth, cut and +arranged little bits of bread on a saucer, and then put them into +a cup with wine, repeating at the same time different names and +prayers. Meanwhile the deacon first read Slavonic prayers, +difficult to understand in themselves, and rendered still more +incomprehensible by being read very fast, and then sang them turn +and turn about with the convicts. The contents of the prayers +were chiefly the desire for the welfare of the Emperor and his +family. These petitions were repeated many times, separately and +together with other prayers, the people kneeling. Besides this, +several verses from the Acts of the Apostles were read by the +deacon in a peculiarly strained voice, which made it impossible +to understand what he read, and then the priest read very +distinctly a part of the Gospel according to St. Mark, in which +it said that Christ, having risen from the dead before flying up +to heaven to sit down at His Father's right hand, first showed +Himself to Mary Magdalene, out of whom He had driven seven +devils, and then to eleven of His disciples, and ordered them to +preach the Gospel to the whole creation, and the priest added +that if any one did not believe this he would perish, but he that +believed it and was baptised should be saved, and should besides +drive out devils and cure people by laying his hands on them, +should talk in strange tongues, should take up serpents, and if +he drank poison should not die, but remain well. + +The essence of the service consisted in the supposition that the +bits cut up by the priest and put by him into the wine, when +manipulated and prayed over in a certain way, turned into the +flesh and blood of God. + +These manipulations consisted in the priest's regularly lifting +and holding up his arms, though hampered by the gold cloth sack +he had on, then, sinking on to his knees and kissing the table +and all that was on it, but chiefly in his taking a cloth by two +of its corners and waving it regularly and softly over the silver +saucer and golden cup. It was supposed that, at this point, the +bread and the wine turned into flesh and blood; therefore, this +part of the service was performed with the greatest solemnity. + +"Now, to the blessed, most pure, and most holy Mother of God," +the priest cried from the golden partition which divided part of +the church from the rest, and the choir began solemnly to sing +that it was very right to glorify the Virgin Mary, who had borne +Christ without losing her virginity, and was therefore worthy of +greater honour than some kind of cherubim, and greater glory than +some kind of seraphim. After this the transformation was +considered accomplished, and the priest having taken the napkin +off the saucer, cut the middle bit of bread in four, and put it +into the wine, and then into his mouth. He was supposed to have +eaten a bit of God's flesh and swallowed a little of His blood. +Then the priest drew a curtain, opened the middle door in the +partition, and, taking the gold cup in his hands, came out of the +door, inviting those who wished to do so also to come and eat +some of God's flesh and blood that was contained in the cup. A +few children appeared to wish to do so. + +After having asked the children their names, the priest carefully +took out of the cup, with a spoon, and shoved a bit of bread +soaked in wine deep into the mouth of each child in turn, and the +deacon, while wiping the children's mouths, sang, in a merry +voice, that the children were eating the flesh and drinking the +blood of God. After this the priest carried the cup back behind +the partition, and there drank all the remaining blood and ate up +all the bits of flesh, and after having carefully sucked his +moustaches and wiped his mouth, he stepped briskly from behind +the partition, the soles of his calfskin boots creaking. The +principal part of this Christian service was now finished, but +the priest, wishing to comfort the unfortunate prisoners, added +to the ordinary service another. This consisted of his going up +to the gilt hammered-out image (with black face and hands) +supposed to represent the very God he had been eating, +illuminated by a dozen wax candles, and proceeding, in a strange, +discordant voice, to hum or sing the following words: + +"Jesu sweetest, glorified of the Apostles, Jesu lauded by the +martyrs, almighty Monarch, save me, Jesu my Saviour. Jesu, most +beautiful, have mercy on him who cries to Thee, Saviour Jesu. +Born of prayer Jesu, all thy saints, all thy prophets, save and +find them worthy of the joys of heaven. Jesu, lover of men." + +Then he stopped, drew breath, crossed himself, bowed to the +ground, and every one did the same--the inspector, the warders, +the prisoners; and from above the clinking of the chains sounded +more unintermittently. Then he continued: "Of angels the Creator +and Lord of powers, Jesu most wonderful, the angels' amazement, +Jesu most powerful, of our forefathers the Redeemer. Jesu +sweetest, of patriarchs the praise. Jesu most glorious, of kings +the strength. Jesu most good, of prophets the fulfilment. Jesu +most amazing, of martyrs the strength. Jesu most humble, of monks +the joy. Jesu most merciful, of priests the sweetness. Jesu most +charitable, of the fasting the continence. Jesu most sweet, of +the just the joy. Jesu most pure, of the celibates the chastity. +Jesu before all ages of sinners the salvation. Jesu, son of God, +have mercy on me." + +Every time he repeated the word "Jesu" his voice became more and +more wheezy. At last he came to a stop, and holding up his +silk-lined cassock, and kneeling down on one knee, he stooped +down to the ground and the choir began to sing, repeating the +words, "Jesu, Son of God, have mercy on me," and the convicts +fell down and rose again, shaking back the hair that was left on +their heads, and rattling with the chains that were bruising +their thin ankles. + +This continued for a long time. First came the glorification, +which ended with the words, "Have mercy on me." Then more +glorifications, ending with "Alleluia!" And the convicts made the +sign of the cross, and bowed, first at each sentence, then after +every two and then after three, and all were very glad when the +glorification ended, and the priest shut the book with a sigh of +relief and retired behind the partition. One last act remained. +The priest took a large, gilt cross, with enamel medallions at +the ends, from a table, and came out into the centre of the +church with it. First the inspector came up and kissed the cross, +then the jailers, then the convicts, pushing and abusing each +other in whispers. The priest, talking to the inspector, pushed +the cross and his hand now against the mouths and now against the +noses of the convicts, who were trying to kiss both the cross and +the hand of the priest. And thus ended the Christian service, +intended for the comfort and the teaching of these strayed +brothers. + + + +CHAPTER XL. + +THE HUSKS OF RELIGION. + +And none of those present, from the inspector down to Maslova, +seemed conscious of the fact that this Jesus, whose name the +priest repeated such a great number of times, and whom he praised +with all these curious expressions, had forbidden the very things +that were being done there; that He had prohibited not only this +meaningless much-speaking and the blasphemous incantation over +the bread and wine, but had also, in the clearest words, +forbidden men to call other men their master, and to pray in +temples; and had ordered that every one should pray in solitude, +had forbidden to erect temples, saying that He had come to +destroy them, and that one should worship, not in a temple, but +in spirit and in truth; and, above all, that He had forbidden not +only to judge, to imprison, to torment, to execute men, as was +being done here, but had prohibited any kind of violence, saying +that He had come to give freedom to the captives. + +No one present seemed conscious that all that was going on here +was the greatest blasphemy and a supreme mockery of that same +Christ in whose name it was being done. No one seemed to realise +that the gilt cross with the enamel medallions at the ends, which +the priest held out to the people to be kissed, was nothing but +the emblem of that gallows on which Christ had been executed for +denouncing just what was going on here. That these priests, who +imagined they were eating and drinking the body and blood of +Christ in the form of bread and wine, did in reality eat and +drink His flesh and His blood, but not as wine and bits of bread, +but by ensnaring "these little ones" with whom He identified +Himself, by depriving them of the greatest blessings and +submitting them to most cruel torments, and by hiding from men +the tidings of great joy which He had brought. That thought did +not enter into the mind of any one present. + +The priest did his part with a quiet conscience, because he was +brought up from childhood to consider that the only true faith +was the faith which had been held by all the holy men of olden +times and was still held by the Church, and demanded by the State +authorities. He did not believe that the bread turned into flesh, +that it was useful for the soul to repeat so many words, or that +he had actually swallowed a bit of God. No one could believe +this, but he believed that one ought to hold this faith. What +strengthened him most in this faith was the fact that, for +fulfilling the demands of this faith, he had for the last 15 +years been able to draw an income, which enabled him to keep his +family, send his son to a gymnasium and his daughter to a school +for the daughters of the clergy. The deacon believed in the same +manner, and even more firmly than the priest, for he had +forgotten the substance of the dogmas of this faith, and knew +only that the prayers for the dead, the masses, with and without +the acathistus, all had a definite price, which real Christians +readily paid, and, therefore, he called out his "have mercy, have +mercy," very willingly, and read and said what was appointed, +with the same quiet certainty of its being necessary to do so +with which other men sell faggots, flour, or potatoes. The prison +inspector and the warders, though they had never understood or +gone into the meaning of these dogmas and of all that went on in +church, believed that they must believe, because the higher +authorities and the Tsar himself believed in it. Besides, though +faintly (and themselves unable to explain why), they felt that +this faith defended their cruel occupations. If this faith did +not exist it would have been more difficult, perhaps impossible, +for them to use all their powers to torment people, as they were +now doing, with a quiet conscience. The inspector was such a +kind-hearted man that he could not have lived as he was now +living unsupported by his faith. Therefore, he stood motionless, +bowed and crossed himself zealously, tried to feel touched when +the song about the cherubims was being sung, and when the +children received communion he lifted one of them, and held him +up to the priest with his own hands. + +The great majority of the prisoners believed that there lay a +mystic power in these gilt images, these vestments, candles, +cups, crosses, and this repetition of incomprehensible words, +"Jesu sweetest" and "have mercy"--a power through which might be +obtained much convenience in this and in the future life. Only a +few clearly saw the deception that was practised on the people +who adhered to this faith, and laughed at it in their hearts; but +the majority, having made several attempts to get the +conveniences they desired, by means of prayers, masses, and +candles, and not having got them (their prayers remaining +unanswered), were each of them convinced that their want of +success was accidental, and that this organisation, approved by +the educated and by archbishops, is very important and necessary, +if not for this, at any rate for the next life. + +Maslova also believed in this way. She felt, like the rest, a +mixed sensation of piety and dulness. She stood at first in a +crowd behind a railing, so that she could see no one but her +companions; but when those to receive communion moved on, she +and Theodosia stepped to the front, and they saw the inspector, +and, behind him, standing among the warders, a little peasant, +with a very light beard and fair hair. This was Theodosia's +husband, and he was gazing with fixed eyes at his wife. During +the acathistus Maslova occupied herself in scrutinising him and +talking to Theodosia in whispers, and bowed and made the sign of +the cross only when every one else did. + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +VISITING DAY--THE MEN'S WARD. + +Nekhludoff left home early. A peasant from the country was still +driving along the side street and calling out in a voice peculiar +to his trade, "Milk! milk! milk!" + +The first warm spring rain had fallen the day before, and now +wherever the ground was not paved the grass shone green. The +birch trees in the gardens looked as if they were strewn with +green fluff, the wild cherry and the poplars unrolled their long, +balmy buds, and in shops and dwelling-houses the double +window-frames were being removed and the windows cleaned. + +In the Tolkoochi [literally, jostling market, where second-hand +clothes and all sorts of cheap goods are sold] market, which +Nekhludoff had to pass on his way, a dense crowd was surging +along the row of booths, and tattered men walked about selling +top-boots, which they carried under their arms, and renovated +trousers and waistcoats, which hung over their shoulders. + +Men in clean coats and shining boots, liberated from the +factories, it being Sunday, and women with bright silk kerchiefs +on their heads and cloth jackets trimmed with jet, were already +thronging at the door of the traktir. Policemen, with yellow +cords to their uniforms and carrying pistols, were on duty, +looking out for some disorder which might distract the ennui that +oppressed them. On the paths of the boulevards and on the +newly-revived grass, children and dogs ran about, playing, and +the nurses sat merrily chattering on the benches. Along the +streets, still fresh and damp on the shady side, but dry in the +middle, heavy carts rumbled unceasingly, cabs rattled and +tramcars passed ringing by. The air vibrated with the pealing and +clanging of church bells, that were calling the people to attend +to a service like that which was now being conducted in the +prison. And the people, dressed in their Sunday best, were +passing on their way to their different parish churches. + +The isvostchik did not drive Nekhludoff up to the prison itself, +but to the last turning that led to the prison. + +Several persons--men and women--most of them carrying small +bundles, stood at this turning, about 100 steps from the prison. +To the right there were several low wooden buildings; to the +left, a two-storeyed house with a signboard. The huge brick +building, the prison proper, was just in front, and the visitors +were not allowed to come up to it. A sentinel was pacing up and +down in front of it, and shouted at any one who tried to pass +him. + +At the gate of the wooden buildings, to the right, opposite the +sentinel, sat a warder on a bench, dressed in uniform, with gold +cords, a notebook in his hands. The visitors came up to him, and +named the persons they wanted to see, and he put the names down. +Nekhludoff also went up, and named Katerina Maslova. The warder +wrote down the name. + +"Why--don't they admit us yet?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"The service is going on. When the mass is over, you'll be +admitted." + +Nekhludoff stepped aside from the waiting crowd. A man in +tattered clothes, crumpled hat, with bare feet and red stripes +all over his face, detached himself from the crowd, and turned +towards the prison. + +"Now, then, where are you going?" shouted the sentinel with the +gun. + +"And you hold your row," answered the tramp, not in the least +abashed by the sentinel's words, and turned back. "Well, if +you'll not let me in, I'll wait. But, no! Must needs shout, as if +he were a general." + +The crowd laughed approvingly. The visitors were, for the greater +part, badly-dressed people; some were ragged, but there were also +some respectable-looking men and women. Next to Nekhludoff stood +a clean-shaven, stout, and red-cheeked man, holding a bundle, +apparently containing under-garments. This was the doorkeeper of +a bank; he had come to see his brother, who was arrested for +forgery. The good-natured fellow told Nekhludoff the whole story +of his life, and was going to question him in turn, when their +attention was aroused by a student and a veiled lady, who drove +up in a trap, with rubber tyres, drawn by a large thoroughbred +horse. The student was holding a large bundle. He came up to +Nekhludoff, and asked if and how he could give the rolls he had +brought in alms to the prisoners. His fiancee wished it (this +lady was his fiancee), and her parents had advised them to take +some rolls to the prisoners. + +"I myself am here for the first time," said Nekhludoff, "and +don't know; but I think you had better ask this man," and he +pointed to the warder with the gold cords and the book, sitting +on the right. + +As they were speaking, the large iron door with a window in it +opened, and an officer in uniform, followed by another warder, +stepped out. The warder with the notebook proclaimed that the +admittance of visitors would now commence. The sentinel stepped +aside, and all the visitors rushed to the door as if afraid of +being too late; some even ran. At the door there stood a warder +who counted the visitors as they came in, saying aloud, 16, 17, +and so on. Another warder stood inside the building and also +counted the visitors as they entered a second door, touching each +one with his hand, so that when they went away again not one +visitor should be able to remain inside the prison and not one +prisoner might get out. The warder, without looking at whom he +was touching, slapped Nekhludoff on the back, and Nekhludoff felt +hurt by the touch of the warder's hand; but, remembering what he +had come about, he felt ashamed of feeling dissatisfied and +taking offence. + +The first apartment behind the entrance doors was a large vaulted +room with iron bars to the small windows. In this room, which was +called the meeting-room, Nekhludoff was startled by the sight of +a large picture of the Crucifixion. + +"What's that for?" he thought, his mind involuntarily connecting +the subject of the picture with liberation and not with +imprisonment. + +He went on, slowly letting the hurrying visitors pass before, and +experiencing a mingled feeling of horror at the evil-doers locked +up in this building, compassion for those who, like Katusha and +the boy they tried the day before, must be here though guiltless, +and shyness and tender emotion at the thought of the interview +before him. The warder at the other end of the meeting-room said +something as they passed, but Nekhludoff, absorbed by his own +thoughts, paid no attention to him, and continued to follow the +majority of the visitors, and so got into the men's part of the +prison instead of the women's. + +Letting the hurrying visitors pass before him, he was the last to +get into the interviewing-room. As soon as Nekhludoff opened the +door of this room, he was struck by the deafening roar of a +hundred voices shouting at once, the reason of which he did not +at once understand. But when he came nearer to the people, he saw +that they were all pressing against a net that divided the room +in two, like flies settling on sugar, and he understood what it +meant. The two halves of the room, the windows of which were +opposite the door he had come in by, were separated, not by one, +but by two nets reaching from the floor to the ceiling. The wire +nets were stretched 7 feet apart, and soldiers were walking up +and down the space between them. On the further side of the nets +were the prisoners, on the nearer, the visitors. Between them was +a double row of nets and a space of 7 feet wide, so that they +could not hand anything to one another, and any one whose sight +was not very good could not even distinguish the face on the +other side. It was also difficult to talk; one had to scream in +order to be heard. + +On both sides were faces pressed close to the nets, faces of +wives, husbands, fathers, mothers, children, trying to see each +other's features and to say what was necessary in such a way as +to be understood. + +But as each one tried to be heard by the one he was talking to, +and his neighbour tried to do the same, they did their best to +drown each other's voices' and that was the cause of the din and +shouting which struck Nekhludoff when he first came in. It was +impossible to understand what was being said and what were the +relations between the different people. Next Nekhludoff an old +woman with a kerchief on her head stood trembling, her chin +pressed close to the net, and shouting something to a young +fellow, half of whose head was shaved, who listened attentively +with raised brows. By the side of the old woman was a young man +in a peasant's coat, who listened, shaking his head, to a boy +very like himself. Next stood a man in rags, who shouted, waving +his arm and laughing. Next to him a woman, with a good woollen +shawl on her shoulders, sat on the floor holding a baby in her +lap and crying bitterly. This was apparently the first time she +saw the greyheaded man on the other side in prison clothes, and +with his head shaved. Beyond her was the doorkeeper, who had +spoken to Nekhludoff outside; he was shouting with all his might +to a greyhaired convict on the other side. + +When Nekhludoff found that he would have to speak in similar +conditions, a feeling of indignation against those who were able +to make and enforce these conditions arose in him; he was +surprised that, placed in such a dreadful position, no one seemed +offended at this outrage on human feelings. The soldiers, the +inspector, the prisoners themselves, acted as if acknowledging +all this to be necessary. + +Nekhludoff remained in this room for about five minutes, feeling +strangely depressed, conscious of how powerless he was, and at +variance with all the world. He was seized with a curious moral +sensation like seasickness. + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + +VISITING DAY--THE WOMEN'S WARD. + +"Well, but I must do what I came here for," he said, trying to +pick up courage. "What is to be done now?" He looked round for an +official, and seeing a thin little man in the uniform of an +officer going up and down behind the people, he approached him. + +"Can you tell me, sir," he said, with exceedingly strained +politeness of manner, "where the women are kept, and where one is +allowed to interview them?" + +"Is it the women's ward you want to go to?" + +"Yes, I should like to see one of the women prisoners," +Nekhludoff said, with the same strained politeness. + +"You should have said so when you were in the hall. Who is it, +then, that you want to see?" + +"I want to see a prisoner called Katerina Maslova." + +"Is she a political one?" + +"No, she is simply . . ." + +"What! Is she sentenced?" + +"Yes; the day before yesterday she was sentenced," meekly +answered Nekhludoff, fearing to spoil the inspector's good +humour, which seemed to incline in his favour. + +"If you want to go to the women's ward please to step this way," +said the officer, having decided from Nekhludoff's appearance +that he was worthy of attention. "Sideroff, conduct the gentleman +to the women's ward," he said, turning to a moustached corporal +with medals on his breast. + +"Yes, sir." + +At this moment heart-rending sobs were heard coming from some one +near the net. + +Everything here seemed strange to Nekhludoff; but strangest of +all was that he should have to thank and feel obligation towards +the inspector and the chief warders, the very men who were +performing the cruel deeds that were done in this house. + +The corporal showed Nekhludoff through the corridor, out of the +men's into the women's interviewing-room. + +This room, like that of the men, was divided by two wire nets; +but it was much smaller, and there were fewer visitors and fewer +prisoners, so that there was less shouting than in the men's +room. Yet the same thing was going on here, only, between the +nets instead of soldiers there was a woman warder, dressed in a +blue-edged uniform jacket, with gold cords on the sleeves, and a +blue belt. Here also, as in the men's room, the people were +pressing close to the wire netting on both sides; on the nearer +side, the townspeople in varied attire; on the further side, the +prisoners, some in white prison clothes, others in their own +coloured dresses. The whole length of the net was taken up by the +people standing close to it. Some rose on tiptoe to be heard +across the heads of others; some sat talking on the floor. + +The most remarkable of the prisoners, both by her piercing +screams and her appearance, was a thin, dishevelled gipsy. Her +kerchief had slipped off her curly hair, and she stood near a +post in the middle of the prisoner's division, shouting +something, accompanied by quick gestures, to a gipsy man in a +blue coat, girdled tightly below the waist. Next the gipsy man, a +soldier sat on the ground talking to prisoner; next the soldier, +leaning close to the net, stood a young peasant, with a fair +beard and a flushed face, keeping back his tears with difficulty. +A pretty, fair-haired prisoner, with bright blue eyes, was +speaking to him. These two were Theodosia and her husband. Next +to them was a tramp, talking to a broad-faced woman; then two +women, then a man, then again a woman, and in front of each a +prisoner. Maslova was not among them. But some one stood by the +window behind the prisoners, and Nekhludoff knew it was she. His +heart began to beat faster, and his breath stopped. The decisive +moment was approaching. He went up to the part of the net where +he could see the prisoner, and recognised her at once. She stood +behind the blue-eyed Theodosia, and smiled, listening to what +Theodosia was saying. She did not wear the prison cloak now, but +a white dress, tightly drawn in at the waist by a belt, and very +full in the bosom. From under her kerchief appeared the black +ringlets of her fringe, just the same as in the court. + +"Now, in a moment it will be decided," he thought. + +"How shall I call her? Or will she come herself?" + +She was expecting Bertha; that this man had come to see her +never entered her head. + +"Whom do you want?" said the warder who was walking between the +nets, coming up to Nekhludoff. + +"Katerina Maslova," Nekhludoff uttered, with difficulty. + +"Katerina Maslova, some one to see you," cried the warder. + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + +NEKHLUDOFF VISITS MASLOVA. + +Maslova looked round, and with head thrown back and expanded +chest, came up to the net with that expression of readiness which +he well knew, pushed in between two prisoners, and gazed at +Nekhludoff with a surprised and questioning look. But, concluding +from his clothing he was a rich man, she smiled. + +"Is it me you want?" she asked, bringing her smiling face, with +the slightly squinting eyes, nearer the net. + +"I, I--I wished to see--" Nekhludoff did not know how to address +her. "I wished to see you--I--" He was not speaking louder than +usual. + +"No; nonsense, I tell you!" shouted the tramp who stood next to +him. "Have you taken it or not?" + +"Dying, I tell you; what more do you want?" some one else was +screaming at his other side. Maslova could not hear what +Nekhludoff was saying, but the expression of his face as he was +speaking reminded her of him. She did not believe her own eyes; +still the smile vanished from her face and a deep line of +suffering appeared on her brow. + +"I cannot hear what you are saying," she called out, wrinkling +her brow and frowning more and more. + +"I have come," said Nekhludoff. "Yes, I am doing my duty--I am +confessing," thought Nekhludoff; and at this thought the tears +came in his eyes, and he felt a choking sensation in his throat, +and holding on with both hands to the net, he made efforts to +keep from bursting into tears. + +"I say, why do you shove yourself in where you're not wanted?" +some one shouted at one side of him. + +"God is my witness; I know nothing," screamed a prisoner from the +other side. + +Noticing his excitement, Maslova recognised him. + +"You're like . . . but no; I don't know you," she shouted, +without looking at him, and blushing, while her face grew still +more stern. + +"I have come to ask you to forgive me," he said, in a loud but +monotonous voice, like a lesson learnt by heart. Having said +these words he became confused; but immediately came the thought +that, if he felt ashamed, it was all the better; he had to bear +this shame, and he continued in a loud voice: + +"Forgive me; I have wronged you terribly." + +She stood motionless and without taking her squinting eyes off +him. + +He could not continue to speak, and stepping away from the net he +tried to suppress the sobs that were choking him. + +The inspector, the same officer who had directed Nekhludoff to +the women's ward, and whose interest he seemed to have aroused, +came into the room, and, seeing Nekhludoff not at the net, asked +him why he was not talking to her whom he wanted to see. +Nekhludoff blew his nose, gave himself a shake, and, trying to +appear calm, said: + +"It's so inconvenient through these nets; nothing can be heard." + +Again the inspector considered for a moment. + +"Ah, well, she can be brought out here for awhile. Mary +Karlovna," turning to the warder, "lead Maslova out." + +A minute later Maslova came out of the side door. Stepping +softly, she came up close to Nekhludoff, stopped, and looked up +at him from under her brows. Her black hair was arranged in +ringlets over her forehead in the same way as it had been two +days ago; her face, though unhealthy and puffy, was attractive, +and looked perfectly calm, only the glittering black eyes glanced +strangely from under the swollen lids. + +"You may talk here," said the inspector, and shrugging his +shoulders he stepped aside with a look of surprise. Nekhludoff +moved towards a seat by the wall. + +Maslova cast a questioning look at the inspector, and then, +shrugging her shoulders in surprise, followed Nekhludoff to the +bench, and having arranged her skirt, sat down beside him. + +"I know it is hard for you to forgive me," he began, but stopped. +His tears were choking him. "But though I can't undo the past, I +shall now do what is in my power. Tell me--" + +"How have you managed to find me?" she said, without answering +his question, neither looking away from him nor quite at him, +with her squinting eyes. + +"O God, help me! Teach me what to do," Nekhludoff thought, +looking at her changed face. "I was on the jury the day before +yesterday," he said. "You did not recognise me?" + +"No, I did not; there was not time for recognitions. I did not +even look," she said. + +"There was a child, was there not?" he asked. + +"Thank God! he died at once," she answered, abruptly and +viciously. + +"What do you mean? Why?" + +"I was so ill myself, I nearly died," she said, in the same quiet +voice, which Nekhludoff had not expected and could not +understand. + +"How could my aunts have let you go?" + +"Who keeps a servant that has a baby? They sent me off as soon as +they noticed. But why speak of this? I remember nothing. That's +all finished." + +"No, it is not finished; I wish to redeem my sin." + +"There's nothing to redeem. What's been has been and is passed," +she said; and, what he never expected, she looked at him and +smiled in an unpleasantly luring, yet piteous, manner. + +Maslova never expected to see him again, and certainly not here +and not now; therefore, when she first recognised him, she could +not keep back the memories which she never wished to revive. In +the first moment she remembered dimly that new, wonderful world +of feeling and of thought which had been opened to her by the +charming young man who loved her and whom she loved, and then his +incomprehensible cruelty and the whole string of humiliations and +suffering which flowed from and followed that magic joy. This +gave her pain, and, unable to understand it, she did what she was +always in the habit of doing, she got rid of these memories by +enveloping them in the mist of a depraved life. In the first +moment, she associated the man now sitting beside her with the +lad she had loved; but feeling that this gave her pain, she +dissociated them again. Now, this well-dressed, carefully-got-up +gentleman with perfumed beard was no longer the Nekhludoff whom +she had loved but only one of the people who made use of +creatures like herself when they needed them, and whom creatures +like herself had to make use of in their turn as profitably as +they could; and that is why she looked at him with a luring smile +and considered silently how she could best make use of him. + +"That's all at an end," she said. "Now I'm condemned to Siberia," +and her lip trembled as she was saying this dreadful word. + +"I knew; I was certain you were not guilty," said Nekhludoff. + +"Guilty! of course not; as if I could be a thief or a robber." +She stopped, considering in what way she could best get something +out of him. + +"They say here that all depends on the advocate," she began. "A +petition should be handed in, only they say it's expensive." + +"Yes, most certainly," said Nekhludoff. "I have already spoken to +an advocate." + +"No money ought to be spared; it should be a good one," she said. + +"I shall do all that is possible." + +They were silent, and then she smiled again in the same way. + +"And I should like to ask you . . . a little money if you can . . . +not much; ten roubles, I do not want more," she said, suddenly. + +"Yes, yes," Nekhludoff said, with a sense of confusion, and felt +for his purse. + +She looked rapidly at the inspector, who was walking up and down +the room. "Don't give it in front of him; he'd take it away." + +Nekhludoff took out his purse as soon as the inspector had turned +his back; but had no time to hand her the note before the +inspector faced them again, so he crushed it up in his hand. + +"This woman is dead," Nekhludoff thought, looking at this once +sweet, and now defiled, puffy face, lit up by an evil glitter in +the black, squinting eyes which were now glancing at the hand in +which he held the note, then following the inspector's movements, +and for a moment he hesitated. The tempter that had been speaking +to him in the night again raised its voice, trying to lead him +out of the realm of his inner into the realm of his outer life, +away from the question of what he should do to the question of +what the consequences would be, and what would be practical. + +"You can do nothing with this woman," said the voice; "you will +only tie a stone round your neck, which will help to drown you +and hinder you from being useful to others. + +"Is it not better to give her all the money that is here, say +good-bye, and finish with her forever?" whispered the voice. + +But here he felt that now, at this very moment, something most +important was taking place in his soul--that his inner life was, +as it were, wavering in the balance, so that the slightest effort +would make it sink to this side or the other. And he made this +effort by calling to his assistance that God whom he had felt in +his soul the day before, and that God instantly responded. He +resolved to tell her everything now--at once. + +"Katusha, I have come to ask you to forgive me, and you have +given me no answer. Have you forgiven me? Will you ever forgive +me?" he asked. + +She did not listen to him, but looked at his hand and at the +inspector, and when the latter turned she hastily stretched out +her hand, grasped the note, and hid it under her belt. + +"That's odd, what you are saying there," she said, with a smile +of contempt, as it seemed to him. + +Nekhludoff felt that there was in her soul one who was his enemy +and who was protecting her, such as she was now, and preventing +him from getting at her heart. But, strange to say, this did not +repel him, but drew him nearer to her by some fresh, peculiar +power. He knew that he must waken her soul, that this was +terribly difficult, but the very difficulty attracted him. He now +felt towards her as he had never felt towards her or any one else +before. There was nothing personal in this feeling: he wanted +nothing from her for himself, but only wished that she might not +remain as she now was, that she might awaken and become again +what she had been. + +"Katusha, why do you speak like that? I know you; I remember +you--and the old days in Papovo." + +"What's the use of recalling what's past?" she remarked, drily. + +"I am recalling it in order to put it right, to atone for my sin, +Katusha," and he was going to say that he would marry her, but, +meeting her eyes, he read in them something so dreadful, so +coarse, so repellent, that he could not go on. + +At this moment the visitors began to go. The inspector came up to +Nekhludoff and said that the time was up. + +"Good-bye; I have still much to say to you, but you see it is +impossible to do so now," said Nekhludoff, and held out his hand. +"I shall come again." + +"I think you have said all." + +She took his hand but did not press it. + +"No; I shall try to see you again, somewhere where we can talk, +and then I shall tell you what I have to say-something very +important." + +"Well, then, come; why not?" she answered, and smiled with that +habitual, inviting, and promising smile which she gave to the men +whom she wished to please. + +"You are more than a sister to me," said Nekhludoff. + +"That's odd," she said again, and went behind the grating. + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + +MASLOVA'S VIEW OF LIFE. + +Before the first interview, Nekhludoff thought that when she saw +him and knew of his intention to serve her, Katusha would be +pleased and touched, and would be Katusha again; but, to his +horror, he found that Katusha existed no more, and there was +Maslova in her place. This astonished and horrified him. + +What astonished him most was that Katusha was not ashamed of her +position--not the position of a prisoner (she was ashamed of +that), but her position as a prostitute. She seemed satisfied, +even proud of it. And, yet, how could it be otherwise? Everybody, +in order to be able to act, has to consider his occupation +important and good. Therefore, in whatever position a person is, +he is certain to form such a view of the life of men in general +which will make his occupation seem important and good. + +It is usually imagined that a thief, a murderer, a spy, a +prostitute, acknowledging his or her profession as evil, is +ashamed of it. But the contrary is true. People whom fate and +their sin-mistakes have placed in a certain position, however +false that position may be, form a view of life in general which +makes their position seem good and admissible. In order to keep +up their view of life, these people instinctively keep to the +circle of those people who share their views of life and their +own place in it. This surprises us, where the persons concerned +are thieves, bragging about their dexterity, prostitutes vaunting +their depravity, or murderers boasting of their cruelty. This +surprises us only because the circle, the atmosphere in which +these people live, is limited, and we are outside it. But can we +not observe the same phenomenon when the rich boast of their +wealth, i.e., robbery; the commanders in the army pride themselves +on victories, i.e., murder; and those in high places vaunt their +power, i.e., violence? We do not see the perversion in the views +of life held by these people, only because the circle formed by +them is more extensive, and we ourselves are moving inside of it. + +And in this manner Maslova had formed her views of life and of +her own position. She was a prostitute condemned to Siberia, and +yet she had a conception of life which made it possible for her +to be satisfied with herself, and even to pride herself on her +position before others. + +According to this conception, the highest good for all men +without exception--old, young, schoolboys, generals, educated and +uneducated, was connected with the relation of the sexes; +therefore, all men, even when they pretended to be occupied with +other things, in reality took this view. She was an attractive +woman, and therefore she was an important and necessary person. +The whole of her former and present life was a confirmation of +the correctness of this conception. + +With such a view of life, she was by no means the lowest, but a +very important person. And Maslova prized this view of life more +than anything; she could not but prize it, for, if she lost the +importance that such a view of life gave her among men, she would +lose the meaning of her life. And, in order not to lose the +meaning of her life, she instinctively clung to the set that +looked at life in the same way as she did. Feeling that +Nekhludoff wanted to lead her out into another world, she +resisted him, foreseeing that she would have to lose her place in +life, with the self-possession and self-respect it gave her. For +this reason she drove from her the recollections of her early +youth and her first relations with Nekhludoff. These +recollections did not correspond with her present conception of +the world, and were therefore quite rubbed out of her mind, or, +rather, lay somewhere buried and untouched, closed up and +plastered over so that they should not escape, as when bees, in +order to protect the result of their labour, will sometimes +plaster a nest of worms. Therefore, the present Nekhludoff was +not the man she had once loved with a pure love, but only a rich +gentleman whom she could, and must, make use of, and with whom +she could only have the same relations as with men in general. + +"No, I could not tell her the chief thing," thought Nekhludoff, +moving towards the front doors with the rest of the people. "I +did not tell her that I would marry her; I did not tell her so, +but I will," he thought. + +The two warders at the door let out the visitors, counting them +again, and touching each one with their hands, so that no extra +person should go out, and none remain within. The slap on his +shoulder did not offend Nekhludoff this time; he did not even +notice it. + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + +FANARIN, THE ADVOCATE--THE PETITION. + +Nekhludoff meant to rearrange the whole of his external life, to +let his large house and move to an hotel, but Agraphena Petrovna +pointed out that it was useless to change anything before the +winter. No one would rent a town house for the summer; anyhow, he +would have to live and keep his things somewhere. And so all his +efforts to change his manner of life (he meant to live more +simply: as the students live) led to nothing. Not only did +everything remain as it was, but the house was suddenly filled +with new activity. All that was made of wool or fur was taken out +to be aired and beaten. The gate-keeper, the boy, the cook, and +Corney himself took part in this activity. All sorts of strange +furs, which no one ever used, and various uniforms were taken out +and hung on a line, then the carpets and furniture were brought +out, and the gate-keeper and the boy rolled their sleeves up +their muscular arms and stood beating these things, keeping +strict time, while the rooms were filled with the smell of +naphthaline. + +When Nekhludoff crossed the yard or looked out of the window and +saw all this going on, he was surprised at the great number of +things there were, all quite useless. Their only use, Nekhludoff +thought, was the providing of exercise for Agraphena Petrovna, +Corney, the gate-keeper, the boy, and the cook. + +"But it's not worth while altering my manner of life now," he +thought, "while Maslova's case is not decided. Besides, it is too +difficult. It will alter of itself when she will be set free or +exiled, and I follow her." + +On the appointed day Nekhludoff drove up to the advocate +Fanarin's own splendid house, which was decorated with huge palms +and other plants, and wonderful curtains, in fact, with all the +expensive luxury witnessing to the possession of much idle money, +i.e., money acquired without labour, which only those possess who +grow rich suddenly. In the waiting-room, just as in a doctor's +waiting-room, he found many dejected-looking people sitting round +several tables, on which lay illustrated papers meant to amuse +them, awaiting their turns to be admitted to the advocate. The +advocate's assistant sat in the room at a high desk, and having +recognised Nekhludoff, he came up to him and said he would go and +announce him at once. But the assistant had not reached the door +before it opened and the sounds of loud, animated voices were +heard; the voice of a middle-aged, sturdy merchant, with a red +face and thick moustaches, and the voice of Fanarin himself. +Fanarin was also a middle-aged man of medium height, with a worn +look on his face. Both faces bore the expression which you see on +the faces of those who have just concluded a profitable but not +quite honest transaction. + +"Your own fault, you know, my dear sir," Fanarin said, smiling. + +"We'd all be in 'eaven were it not for hour sins." + +"Oh. yes, yes; we all know that," and both laughed un-naturally. + +"Oh, Prince Nekhludoff! Please to step in," said Fanarin, seeing +him, and, nodding once more to the merchant, he led Nekhludoff +into his business cabinet, furnished in a severely correct style. + +"Won't you smoke?" said the advocate, sitting down opposite +Nekhludoff and trying to conceal a smile, apparently still +excited by the success of the accomplished transaction. + +"Thanks; I have come about Maslova's case." + +"Yes, yes; directly! But oh, what rogues these fat money bags +are!" he said. "You saw this here fellow. Why, he has about +twelve million roubles, and he cannot speak correctly; and if he +can get a twenty-five rouble note out of you he'll have it, if +he's to wrench it out with his teeth." + +"He says ''eaven' and 'hour,' and you say 'this here fellow,'" +Nekhludoff thought, with an insurmountable feeling of aversion +towards this man who wished to show by his free and easy manner +that he and Nekhludoff belonged to one and the same camp, while +his other clients belonged to another. + +"He has worried me to death--a fearful scoundrel. I felt I must +relieve my feelings," said the advocate, as if to excuse his +speaking about things that had no reference to business. "Well, +how about your case? I have read it attentively, but do not +approve of it. I mean that greenhorn of an advocate has left no +valid reason for an appeal." + +"Well, then, what have you decided?" + +"One moment. Tell him," he said to his assistant, who had just +come in, "that I keep to what I have said. If he can, it's all +right; if not, no matter." + +"But he won't agree." + +"Well, no matter," and the advocate frowned. + +"There now, and it is said that we advocates get our money for +nothing," he remarked, after a pause. "I have freed one insolvent +debtor from a totally false charge, and now they all flock to me. +Yet every such case costs enormous labour. Why, don't we, too, +'lose bits of flesh in the inkstand?' as some writer or other has +said. Well, as to your case, or, rather, the case you are taking +an interest in. It has been conducted abominably. There is no +good reason for appealing. Still," he continued, "we can but try +to get the sentence revoked. This is what I have noted down." He +took up several sheets of paper covered with writing, and began +to read rapidly, slurring over the uninteresting legal terms and +laying particular stress on some sentences. "To the Court of +Appeal, criminal department, etc., etc. According to the +decisions, etc., the verdict, etc., So-and-so Maslova pronounced +guilty of having caused the death through poison of the merchant +Smelkoff, and has, according to Statute 1454 of the penal code, +been sentenced to Siberia," etc., etc. He stopped. Evidently, in +spite of his being so used to it, he still felt pleasure in +listening to his own productions. "This sentence is the direct +result of the most glaring judicial perversion and error," he +continued, impressively, "and there are grounds for its +revocation. Firstly, the reading of the medical report of the +examination of Smelkoff's intestines was interrupted by the +president at the very beginning. This is point one." + +"But it was the prosecuting side that demanded this reading," +Nekhludoff said, with surprise. + +"That does not matter. There might have been reasons for the +defence to demand this reading, too." + +"Oh, but there could have been no reason whatever for that." + +"It is a ground for appeal, though. To continue: 'Secondly,' he +went on reading, 'when Maslova's advocate, in his speech for the +defence, wishing to characterise Maslova's personality, referred +to the causes of her fall, he was interrupted by the president +calling him to order for the alleged deviation from the direct +subject. Yet, as has been repeatedly pointed out by the Senate, +the elucidation of the criminal's characteristics and his or her +moral standpoint in general has a significance of the first +importance in criminal cases, even if only as a guide in the +settling of the question of imputation.' That's point two," he +said, with a look at Nekhludoff. + +"But he spoke so badly that no one could make anything of it," +Nekhludoff said, still more astonished. + +"The fellow's quite a fool, and of course could not be expected +to say anything sensible," Fanarin said, laughing; "but, all the +same, it will do as a reason for appeal. Thirdly: 'The president, +in his summing up, contrary to the direct decree of section 1, +statute 801, of the criminal code, omitted to inform the jury +what the judicial points are that constitute guilt; and did not +mention that having admitted the fact of Maslova having +administered the poison to Smelkoff, the jury had a right not to +impute the guilt of murder to her, since the proofs of wilful +intent to deprive Smelkoff of life were absent, and only to +pronounce her guilty of carelessness resulting in the death of +the merchant, which she did not desire.' This is the chief +point." + +"Yes; but we ought to have known that ourselves. It was our +mistake." + +"And now the fourth point," the advocate continued. "The form of +the answer given by the jury contained an evident contradiction. +Maslova is accused of wilfully poisoning Smelkoff, her one object +being that of cupidity, the only motive to commit murder she +could have had. The jury in their verdict acquit her of the +intent to rob, or participation in the stealing of valuables, +from which it follows that they intended also to acquit her of +the intent to murder, and only through a misunderstanding, which +arose from the incompleteness of the president's summing up, +omitted to express it in due form in their answer. Therefore an +answer of this kind by the jury absolutely demanded the +application of statutes 816 and 808 of the criminal code of +procedure, i.e., an explanation by the president to the jury of +the mistake made by them, and another debate on the question of +the prisoner's guilt." + +"Then why did the president not do it?" + +"I, too, should like to know why," Fanarin said, laughing. + +"Then the Senate will, of course, correct this error?" + +"That will all depend on who will preside there at the time. +Well, now, there it is. I have further said," he continued, +rapidly, "a verdict of this kind gave the Court no right to +condemn Maslova to be punished as a criminal, and to apply +section 3, statute 771 of the penal code to her case. This is a +decided and gross violation of the basic principles of our +criminal law. In view of the reasons stated, I have the honour of +appealing to you, etc., etc., the refutation, according to 909, +910, and section 2, 912 and 928 statute of the criminal code, +etc., etc. . . . to carry this case before another department of +the same Court for a further examination. There; all that can be +done is done, but, to be frank, I have little hope of success, +though, of course, it all depends on what members will be present +at the Senate. If you have any influence there you can but try." + +"I do know some." + +"All right; only be quick about it. Else they'll all go off for a +change of air; then you may have to wait three months before they +return. Then, in case of failure, we have still the possibility +of appealing to His Majesty. This, too, depends on the private +influence you can bring to work. In this case, too, I am at your +service; I mean as to the working of the petition, not the +influence." + +"Thank you. Now as to your fees?" + +"My assistant will hand you the petition and tell you." + +"One thing more. The Procureur gave me a pass for visiting this +person in prison, but they tell me I must also get a permission +from the governor in order to get an interview at another time +and in another place than those appointed. Is this necessary?" + +"Yes, I think so. But the governor is away at present; a +vice-governor is in his place. And he is such an impenetrable +fool that you'll scarcely be able to do anything with him." + +"Is it Meslennikoff?" + +"Yes." + +"I know him," said Nekhludoff, and got up to go. At this moment a +horribly ugly, little, bony, snub-nosed, yellow-faced woman flew +into the room. It was the advocate's wife, who did not seem to be +in the least bit troubled by her ugliness. She was attired in the +most original manner; she seemed enveloped in something made of +velvet and silk, something yellow and green, and her thin hair +was crimped. + +She stepped out triumphantly into the ante-room, followed by a +tall, smiling man, with a greenish complexion, dressed in a coat +with silk facings, and a white tie. This was an author. +Nekhludoff knew him by sight. + +She opened the cabinet door and said, "Anatole, you must come to +me. Here is Simeon Ivanovitch, who will read his poems, and you +must absolutely come and read about Garshin." + +Nekhludoff noticed that she whispered something to her husband, +and, thinking it was something concerning him, wished to go away, +but she caught him up and said: "I beg your pardon, Prince, I +know you, and, thinking an introduction superfluous, I beg you to +stay and take part in our literary matinee. It will be most +interesting. M. Fanarin will read." + +"You see what a lot I have to do," said Fanarin, spreading out +his hands and smilingly pointing to his wife, as if to show how +impossible it was to resist so charming a creature. + +Nekhludoff thanked the advocate's wife with extreme politeness +for the honour she did him in inviting him, but refused the +invitation with a sad and solemn look, and left the room. + +"What an affected fellow!" said the advocate's wife, when he had +gone out. + +In the ante-room the assistant handed him a ready-written +petition, and said that the fees, including the business with the +Senate and the commission, would come to 1,000 roubles, and +explained that M. Fanarin did not usually undertake this kind of +business, but did it only to oblige Nekhludoff. + +"And about this petition. Who is to sign it?" + +"The prisoner may do it herself, or if this is inconvenient, M. +Fanarin can, if he gets a power of attorney from her." + +"Oh, no. I shall take the petition to her and get her to sign it," +said Nekhludoff, glad of the opportunity of seeing her before the +appointed day. + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + +A PRISON FLOGGING. + +At the usual time the jailer's whistle sounded in the corridors of +the prison, the iron doors of the cells rattled, bare feet +pattered, heels clattered, and the prisoners who acted as +scavengers passed along the corridors, filling the air with +disgusting smells. The prisoners washed, dressed, and came out +for revision, then went to get boiling water for their tea. + +The conversation at breakfast in all the cells was very lively. +It was all about two prisoners who were to be flogged that day. +One, Vasiliev, was a young man of some education, a clerk, who +had killed his mistress in a fit of jealousy. His +fellow-prisoners liked him because he was merry and generous and +firm in his behaviour with the prison authorities. He knew the +laws and insisted on their being carried out. Therefore he was +disliked by the authorities. Three weeks before a jailer struck +one of the scavengers who had spilt some soup over his new +uniform. Vasiliev took the part of the scavenger, saying that it +was not lawful to strike a prisoner. + +"I'll teach you the law," said the jailer, and gave Vasiliev a +scolding. Vasiliev replied in like manner, and the jailer was +going to hit him, but Vasiliev seized the jailer's hands, held +them fast for about three minutes, and, after giving the hands a +twist, pushed the jailer out of the door. The jailer complained +to the inspector, who ordered Vasiliev to be put into a solitary +cell. + +The solitary cells were a row of dark closets, locked from +outside, and there were neither beds, nor chairs, nor tables in +them, so that the inmates had to sit or lie on the dirty floor, +while the rats, of which there were a great many in those cells, +ran across them. The rats were so bold that they stole the bread +from the prisoners, and even attacked them if they stopped +moving. Vasiliev said he would not go into the solitary cell, +because he had not done anything wrong; but they used force. Then +he began struggling, and two other prisoners helped him to free +himself from the jailers. All the jailers assembled, and among +them was Petrov, who was distinguished for his strength. The +prisoners got thrown down and pushed into the solitary cells. + +The governor was immediately informed that something very like a +rebellion had taken place. And he sent back an order to flog the +two chief offenders, Vasiliev and the tramp, Nepomnishy, giving +each thirty strokes with a birch rod. The flogging was appointed +to take place in the women's interviewing-room. + +All this was known in the prison since the evening, and it was +being talked about with animation in all the cells. + +Korableva, Khoroshevka, Theodosia, and Maslova sat together in +their corner, drinking tea, all of them flushed and animated by +the vodka they had drunk, for Maslova, who now had a constant +supply of vodka, freely treated her companions to it. + +"He's not been a-rioting, or anything," Korableva said, referring +to Vasiliev, as she bit tiny pieces off a lump of sugar with her +strong teeth. "He only stuck up for a chum, because it's not +lawful to strike prisoners nowadays." + +"And he's a fine fellow, I've heard say," said Theodosia, who sat +bareheaded, with her long plaits round her head, on a log of wood +opposite the shelf bedstead on which the teapot stood. + +"There, now, if you were to ask _him_," the watchman's wife said +to Maslova (by him she meant Nekhludoff). + +"I shall tell him. He'll do anything for me," Maslova said, +tossing her head, and smiling. + +"Yes, but when is he coming? and they've already gone to fetch +them," said Theodosia. "It is terrible," she added, with a sigh. + +"I once did see how they flogged a peasant in the village. +Father-in-law, he sent me once to the village elder. Well, I +went, and there . . . " The watchman's wife began her long story, +which was interrupted by the sound of voices and steps in the +corridor above them. + +The women were silent, and sat listening. + +"There they are, hauling him along, the devils!" Khoroshavka +said. "They'll do him to death, they will. The jailers are so +enraged with him because he never would give in to them." + +All was quiet again upstairs, and the watchman's wife finished +her story of how she was that frightened when she went into the +barn and saw them flogging a peasant, her inside turned at the +sight, and so on. Khoroshevka related how Schegloff had been +flogged, and never uttered a sound. Then Theodosia put away the +tea things, and Korableva and the watchman's wife took up their +sewing. Maslova sat down on the bedstead, with her arms round her +knees, dull and depressed. She was about to lie down and try to +sleep, when the woman warder called her into the office to see a +visitor. + +"Now, mind, and don't forget to tell him about us," the old woman +(Menshova) said, while Maslova was arranging the kerchief on her +head before the dim looking-glass. "We did not set fire to the +house, but he himself, the fiend, did it; his workman saw him do +it, and will not damn his soul by denying it. You just tell to +ask to see my Mitri. Mitri will tell him all about it, as plain +as can be. Just think of our being locked up in prison when we +never dreamt of any ill, while he, the fiend, is enjoying himself +at the pub, with another man's wife." + +"That's not the law," remarked Korableva. + +"I'll tell him--I'll tell him," answered Maslova. "Suppose I have +another drop, just to keep up courage," she added, with a wink; +and Korableva poured out half a cup of vodka, which Maslova +drank. Then, having wiped her mouth and repeating the words "just +to keep up courage," tossing her head and smiling gaily, she +followed the warder along the corridor. + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + +NEKHLUDOFF AGAIN VISITS MASLOVA. + +Nekhludoff had to wait in the hall for a long time. When he had +arrived at the prison and rung at the entrance door, he handed +the permission of the Procureur to the jailer on duty who met +him. + +"No, no," the jailer on duty said hurriedly, "the inspector is +engaged." + +"In the office?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"No, here in the interviewing-room.". + +"Why, is it a visiting day to-day?" + +"No; it's special business." + +"I should like to see him. What am I to do?" said Nekhludoff. + +"When the inspector comes out you'll tell him--wait a bit," said +the jailer. + +At this moment a sergeant-major, with a smooth, shiny face and +moustaches impregnated with tobacco smoke, came out of a side +door, with the gold cords of his uniform glistening, and +addressed the jailer in a severe tone. + +"What do you mean by letting any one in here? The office. . . ." + +"I was told the inspector was here," said Nekhludoff, surprised +at the agitation he noticed in the sergeant-major's manner. + +At this moment the inner door opened, and Petrov came out, heated +and perspiring. + +"He'll remember it," he muttered, turning to the sergeant major. +The latter pointed at Nekhludoff by a look, and Petrov knitted +his brows and went out through a door at the back. + +"Who will remember it? Why do they all seem so confused? Why did +the sergeant-major make a sign to him?" Nekhludoff thought. + +The sergeant-major, again addressing Nekhludoff, said: "You +cannot meet here; please step across to the office." And +Nekhludoff was about to comply when the inspector came out of the +door at the back, looking even more confused than his +subordinates, and sighing continually. When he saw Nekhludoff he +turned to the jailer. + +"Fedotoff, have Maslova, cell 5, women's ward, taken to the +office." + +"Will you come this way, please," he said, turning to Nekhludoff. +They ascended a steep staircase and entered a little room with +one window, a writing-table, and a few chairs in it. The +inspector sat down. + +"Mine are heavy, heavy duties," he remarked, again addressing +Nekhludoff, and took out a cigarette. + +"You are tired, evidently," said Nekhludoff. + +"Tired of the whole of the service--the duties are very trying. +One tries to lighten their lot and only makes it worse; my only +thought is how to get away. Heavy, heavy duties!" + +Nekhludoff did not know what the inspector's particular +difficulties were, but he saw that to-day he was in a peculiarly +dejected and hopeless condition, calling for pity. + +"Yes, I should think the duties were heavy for a kind-hearted +man," he said. "Why do you serve in this capacity?" + +"I have a family." + +"But, if it is so hard--" + +"Well, still you know it is possible to be of use in some +measure; I soften down all I can. Another in my place would +conduct the affairs quite differently. Why, we have more than +2,000 persons here. And what persons! One must know how to manage +them. It is easier said than done, you know. After all, they are +also men; one cannot help pitying them." The inspector began +telling Nekhludoff of a fight that had lately taken place among +the convicts, which had ended by one man being killed. + +The story was interrupted by the entrance of Maslova, who was +accompanied by a jailer. + +Nekhludoff saw her through the doorway before she had noticed the +inspector. She was following the warder briskly, smiling and +tossing her head. When she saw the inspector she suddenly +changed, and gazed at him with a frightened look; but, quickly +recovering, she addressed Nekhludoff boldly and gaily. + +"How d'you do?" she said, drawling out her words, and +smilingly took his hand and shook it vigorously, not +like the first time. + +"Here, I've brought you a petition to sign," said Nekhludoff, +rather surprised by the boldness with which she greeted him +to-day. + +"The advocate has written out a petition which you will have to +sign, and then we shall send it to Petersburg." + +"All right! That can be done. Anything you like," she said, with +a wink and a smile. + +And Nekhludoff drew a folded paper from his pocket and went up to +the table. + +"May she sign it here?" asked Nekhludoff, turning to the +inspector. + +"It's all right, it's all right! Sit down. Here's a pen; you can +write?" said the inspector. + +"I could at one time," she said; and, after arranging her skirt +and the sleeves of her jacket, she sat down at the table, smiled +awkwardly, took the pen with her small, energetic hand, and +glanced at Nekhludoff with a laugh. + +Nekhludoff told her what to write and pointed out the place where +to sign. + +Sighing deeply as she dipped her pen into the ink, and carefully +shaking some drops off the pen, she wrote her name. + +"Is it all?" she asked, looking from Nekhludoff to the inspector, +and putting the pen now on the inkstand, now on the papers. + +"I have a few words to tell you," Nekhludoff said, taking the pen +from her. + +"All right; tell me," she said. And suddenly, as if remembering +something, or feeling sleepy, she grew serious. + +The inspector rose and left the room, and Nekhludoff remained +with her. + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + +MASLOVA REFUSES TO MARRY. + +The jailer who had brought Maslova in sat on a windowsill at some +distance from them. + +The decisive moment had come for Nekhludoff. He had been +incessantly blaming himself for not having told her the principal +thing at the first interview, and was now determined to tell her +that he would marry her. She was sitting at the further side of +the table. Nekhludoff sat down opposite her. It was light in the +room, and Nekhludoff for the first time saw her face quite near. +He distinctly saw the crowsfeet round her eyes, the wrinkles +round her mouth, and the swollen eyelids. He felt more sorry than +before. Leaning over the table so as not to be heard by the +jailer--a man of Jewish type with grizzly whiskers, who sat by +the window--Nekhludoff said: + +"Should this petition come to nothing we shall appeal to the +Emperor. All that is possible shall be done." + +"There, now, if we had had a proper advocate from the first," she +interrupted. "My defendant was quite a silly. He did nothing but +pay me compliments," she said, and laughed. "If it had then been +known that I was acquainted with you, it would have been another +matter. They think every one's a thief." + +"How strange she is to-day," Nekhludoff thought, and was just +going to say what he had on his mind when she began again: + +"There's something I want to say. We have here an old woman; such +a fine one, d'you know, she just surprises every one; she is +imprisoned for nothing, and her son, too, and everybody knows +they are innocent, though they are accused of having set fire to +a house. D'you know, hearing I was acquainted with you, she says: +'Tell him to ask to see my son; he'll tell him all about it."' +Thus spoke Maslova, turning her head from side to side, and +glancing at Nekhludoff. "Their name's Menshoff. Well, will you do +it? Such a fine old thing, you know; you can see at once she's +innocent. You'll do it, there's a dear," and she smiled, glanced +up at him, and then cast down her eyes. + +"All right. I'll find out about them," Nekhludoff said, more and +more astonished by her free-and-easy manner. "But I was going to +speak to you about myself. Do you remember what I told you last +time?" + +"You said a lot last time. What was it you told me?" she said, +continuing to smile and to turn her head from side to side. + +"I said I had come to ask you to forgive me," he began. + +"What's the use of that? Forgive, forgive, where's the good of--" + +"To atone for my sin, not by mere words, but in deed. I have made +up my mind to marry you." + +An expression of fear suddenly came over her face. Her squinting +eyes remained fixed on him, and yet seemed not to be looking at +him. + +"What's that for?" she said, with an angry frown. + +"I feel that it is my duty before God to do it." + +"What God have you found now? You are not saying what you ought +to. God, indeed! What God? You ought to have remembered God +then," she said, and stopped with her mouth open. It was only now +that Nekhludoff noticed that her breath smelled of spirits, and +that he understood the cause of her excitement. + +"Try and be calm," he said. + +"Why should I be calm?" she began, quickly, flushing scarlet. "I +am a convict, and you are a gentleman and a prince. There's no +need for you to soil yourself by touching me. You go to your +princesses; my price is a ten-rouble note." + +"However cruelly you may speak, you cannot express what I myself +am feeling," he said, trembling all over; "you cannot imagine to +what extent I feel myself guilty towards you." + +"Feel yourself guilty?" she said, angrily mimicking him. "You did +not feel so then, but threw me 100 roubles. That's your price." + +"I know, I know; but what is to be done now?" said Nekhludoff. "I +have decided not to leave you, and what I have said I shall do." + +"And I say you sha'n't," she said, and laughed aloud. + +"Katusha," he said, touching her hand. + +"You go away. I am a convict and you a prince, and you've no +business here," she cried, pulling away her hand, her whole +appearance transformed by her wrath. "You've got pleasure out of +me in this life, and want to save yourself through me in the life +to come. You are disgusting to me--your spectacles and the whole +of your dirty fat mug. Go, go!" she screamed, starting to her +feet. + +The jailer came up to them. + +"What are you kicking up this row for?' That won't--" + +"Let her alone, please," said Nekhludoff. + +"She must not forget herself," said the jailer. "Please wait a +little," said Nekhludoff, and the jailer returned to the window. + +Maslova sat down again, dropping her eyes and firmly clasping her +small hands. + +Nekhludoff stooped over her, not knowing what to do. + +"You do not believe me?" he said. + +"That you mean to marry me? It will never be. I'll rather hang +myself. So there!" + +"Well, still I shall go on serving you." + +"That's your affair, only I don't want anything from you. I am +telling you the plain truth," she said. "Oh, why did I not die +then?" she added, and began to cry piteously. + +Nekhludoff could not speak; her tears infected him. + +She lifted her eyes, looked at him in surprise, and began to wipe +her tears with her kerchief. + +The jailer came up again and reminded them that it was time to +part. + +Maslova rose. + +"You are excited. If it is possible, I shall come again tomorrow; +you think it over," said Nekhludoff. + +She gave him no answer and, without looking up, followed the +jailer out of the room. + +"Well, lass, you'll have rare times now," Korableva said, when +Maslova returned to the cell. "Seems he's mighty sweet on you; +make the most of it while he's after you. He'll help you out. +Rich people can do anything." + +"Yes, that's so," remarked the watchman's wife, with her musical +voice. "When a poor man thinks of getting married, there's many a +slip 'twixt the cup and the lip; but a rich man need only make up +his mind and it's done. We knew a toff like that duckie. What +d'you think he did?" + +"Well, have you spoken about my affairs?" the old woman asked. + +But Maslova gave her fellow-prisoners no answer; she lay down on +the shelf bedstead, her squinting eyes fixed on a corner of the +room, and lay there until the evening. + +A painful struggle went on in her soul. What Nekhludoff had told +her called up the memory of that world in which she had suffered +and which she had left without having understood, hating it. She +now feared to wake from the trance in which she was living. Not +having arrived at any conclusion when evening came, she again +bought some vodka and drank with her companions. + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + +VERA DOUKHOVA. + +"So this is what it means, this," thought Nekhludoff as he left +the prison, only now fully understanding his crime. If he had not +tried to expiate his guilt he would never have found out how +great his crime was. Nor was this all; she, too, would never have +felt the whole horror of what had been done to her. He only now +saw what he had done to the soul of this woman; only now she saw +and understood what had been done to her. + +Up to this time Nekhludoff had played with a sensation of +self-admiration, had admired his own remorse; now he was simply +filled with horror. He knew he could not throw her up now, and +yet he could not imagine what would come of their relations to +one another. + +Just as he was going out, a jailer, with a disagreeable, +insinuating countenance, and a cross and medals on his breast, +came up and handed him a note with an air of mystery. + +"Here is a note from a certain person, your honour," he said to +Nekhludoff as he gave him the envelope. + +"What person?" + +"You will know when you read it. A political prisoner. I am in +that ward, so she asked me; and though it is against the rules, +still feelings of humanity--" The jailer spoke in an unnatural +manner. + +Nekhludoff was surprised that a jailer of the ward where +political prisoners were kept should pass notes inside the very +prison walls, and almost within sight of every one; he did not +then know that this was both a jailer and a spy. However, he took +the note and read it on coming out of the prison. + +The note was written in a bold hand, and ran as follows: "Having +heard that you visit the prison, and are interested in the case +of a criminal prisoner, the desire of seeing you arose in me. Ask +for a permission to see me. I can give you a good deal of +information concerning your protegee, and also our group.--Yours +gratefully, VERA DOUKHOVA." + +Vera Doukhova had been a school-teacher in an out-of-the-way +village of the Novgorod Government, where Nekhludoff and some +friends of his had once put up while bear hunting. Nekhludoff +gladly and vividly recalled those old days, and his acquaintance +with Doukhova. It was just before Lent, in an isolated spot, 40 +miles from the railway. The hunt had been successful; two bears +had been killed; and the company were having dinner before +starting on their return journey, when the master of the hut +where they were putting up came in to say that the deacon's +daughter wanted to speak to Prince Nekhludoff. "Is she pretty?" +some one asked. "None of that, please," Nekhludoff said, and rose +with a serious look on his face. Wiping his mouth, and wondering +what the deacon's daughter might want of him, he went into the +host's private hut. + +There he found a girl with a felt hat and a warm cloak on--a +sinewy, ugly girl; only her eyes with their arched brows were +beautiful. + +"Here, miss, speak to him," said the old housewife; "this is the +prince himself. I shall go out meanwhile." + +"In what way can I be of service to you?" Nekhludoff asked. + +"I--I--I see you are throwing away your money on such +nonsense--on hunting," began the girl, in great confusion. "I +know--I only want one thing--to be of use to the people, and I +can do nothing because I know nothing--" Her eyes were so +truthful, so kind, and her expression of resoluteness and yet +bashfulness was so touching, that Nekhludoff, as it often +happened to him, suddenly felt as if he were in her position, +understood, and sympathised. + +"What can I do, then?" + +"I am a teacher, but should like to follow a course of study; and +I am not allowed to do so. That is, not that I am not allowed to; +they'd allow me to, but I have not got the means. Give them to +me, and when I have finished the course I shall repay you. I am +thinking the rich kill bears and give the peasants drink; all +this is bad. Why should they not do good? I only want 80 roubles. +But if you don't wish to, never mind," she added, gravely. + +"On the contrary, I am very grateful to you for this opportunity. +. . . I will bring it at once," said Nekhludoff. + +He went out into the passage, and there met one of his comrades, +who had been overhearing his conversation. Paying no heed to his +chaffing, Nekhludoff got the money out of his bag and took it to +her. + +"Oh, please, do not thank me; it is I who should thank you," he +said. + +It was pleasant to remember all this now; pleasant to remember +that he had nearly had a quarrel with an officer who tried to +make an objectionable joke of it, and how another of his comrades +had taken his part, which led to a closer friendship between +them. How successful the whole of that hunting expedition had +been, and how happy he had felt when returning to the railway +station that night. The line of sledges, the horses in tandem, +glide quickly along the narrow road that lies through the forest, +now between high trees, now between low firs weighed down by the +snow, caked in heavy lumps on their branches. A red light flashes +in the dark, some one lights an aromatic cigarette. Joseph, a +bear driver, keeps running from sledge to sledge, up to his knees +in snow, and while putting things to rights he speaks about the +elk which are now going about on the deep snow and gnawing the +bark off the aspen trees, of the bears that are lying asleep in +their deep hidden dens, and his breath comes warm through the +opening in the sledge cover. All this came back to Nekhludoff's +mind; but, above all, the joyous sense of health, strength, and +freedom from care: the lungs breathing in the frosty air so +deeply that the fur cloak is drawn tightly on his chest, the fine +snow drops off the low branches on to his face, his body is warm, +his face feels fresh, and his soul is free from care, +self-reproach, fear, or desire. How beautiful it was. And now, O +God! what torment, what trouble! + +Evidently Vera Doukhova was a revolutionist and imprisoned as +such. He must see her, especially as she promised to advise him +how to lighten Maslova's lot. + + + +CHAPTER L. + +THE VICE-GOVERNOR OF THE PRISON. + +Awaking early the next morning, Nekhludoff remembered what he had +done the day before, and was seized with fear. + +But in spite of this fear, he was more determined than ever to +continue what he had begun. + +Conscious of a sense of duty, he left the house and went to see +Maslennikoff in order to obtain from him a permission to visit +Maslova in prison, and also the Menshoffs--mother and son--about +whom Maslova had spoken to him. Nekhludoff had known this +Maslennikoff a long time; they had been in the regiment together. +At that time Maslennikoff was treasurer to the regiment. + +He was a kind-hearted and zealous officer, knowing and wishing to +know nothing beyond the regiment and the Imperial family. Now +Nekhludoff saw him as an administrator, who had exchanged the +regiment for an administrative office in the government where he +lived. He was married to a rich and energetic woman, who had +forced him to exchange military for civil service. She laughed at +him, and caressed him, as if he were her own pet animal. +Nekhludoff had been to see them once during the winter, but the +couple were so uninteresting to him that he had not gone again. + +At the sight of Nekhludoff Maslennikoff's face beamed all over. +He had the same fat red face, and was as corpulent and as well +dressed as in his military days. Then, he used to be always +dressed in a well-brushed uniform, made according to the latest +fashion, tightly fitting his chest and shoulders; now, it was a +civil service uniform he wore, and that, too, tightly fitted his +well-fed body and showed off his broad chest, and was cut +according to the latest fashion. In spite of the difference in +age (Maslennikoff was 40), the two men were very familiar with +one another. + +"Halloo, old fellow! How good of you to come! Let us go and see +my wife. I have just ten minutes to spare before the meeting. My +chief is away, you know. I am at the head of the Government +administration," he said, unable to disguise his satisfaction. + +"I have come on business." + +"What is it?" said Maslennikoff, in an anxious and severe tone, +putting himself at once on his guard. + +"There is a person, whom I am very much interested in, in prison" +(at the word "prison" Maslennikoff's face grew stern); "and I +should like to have an interview in the office, and not in the +common visiting-room. I have been told it depended on you." + +"Certainly, mon cher," said Maslennikoff, putting both hands on +Nekhludoff's knees, as if to tone down his grandeur; "but +remember, I am monarch only for an hour." + +"Then will you give me an order that will enable me to see her?" + +"It's a woman?" + +"Yes." + +"What is she there for?" + +"Poisoning, but she has been unjustly condemned." + +"Yes, there you have it, your justice administered by jury, ils +n'en font point d'autres," he said, for some unknown reason, in +French. "I know you do not agree with me, but it can't be helped, +c'est mon opinion bien arretee," he added, giving utterance to an +opinion he had for the last twelve months been reading in the +retrograde Conservative paper. "I know you are a Liberal." + +"I don't know whether I am a Liberal or something else," +Nekhludoff said, smiling; it always surprised him to find himself +ranked with a political party and called a Liberal, when he +maintained that a man should be heard before he was judged, that +before being tried all men were equal, that nobody at all ought +to be ill-treated and beaten, but especially those who had not +yet been condemned by law. "I don't know whether I am a Liberal +or not; but I do know that however had the present way of +conducting a trial is, it is better than the old." + +"And whom have you for an advocate?" + +"I have spoken to Fanarin." + +"Dear me, Fanarin!" said Meslennikoff, with a grimace, +recollecting how this Fanarin had examined him as a witness at a +trial the year before and had, in the politest manner, held him +up to ridicule for half an hour. + +"I should not advise you to have anything to do with him. +_Fanarin est un homme tare_." + +"I have one more request to make," said Nekhludoff, without +answering him. "There's a girl whom I knew long ago, a teacher; +she is a very pitiable little thing, and is now also imprisoned, +and would like to see me. Could you give me a permission to visit +her?" + +Meslennikoff bent his head on one side and considered. + +"She's a political one?" + +"Yes, I have been told so." + +"Well, you see, only relatives get permission to visit political +prisoners. Still, I'll give you an open order. _Je sais que vous +n'abuserez pas_. What's the name of your protegee? Doukhova? _Elle +est jolie?_" + +"Hideuse." + +Maslennikoff shook his head disapprovingly, went up to the table, +and wrote on a sheet of paper, with a printed heading: "The +bearer, Prince Dmitri Ivanovitch Nekhludoff, is to be allowed to +interview in the prison office the meschanka Maslova, and also +the medical assistant, Doukhova," and he finished with an +elaborate flourish. + +"Now you'll be able to see what order we have got there. And it +is very difficult to keep order, it is so crowded, especially +with people condemned to exile; but I watch strictly, and love +the work. You will see they are very comfortable and contented. +But one must know how to deal with them. Only a few days ago we +had a little trouble--insubordination; another would have called +it mutiny, and would have made many miserable, but with us it all +passed quietly. We must have solicitude on one hand, firmness and +power on the other," and he clenched the fat, white, +turquoise-ringed fist, which issued out of the starched cuff of +his shirt sleeve, fastened with a gold stud. "Solicitude and firm +power." + +"Well, I don't know about that," said Nekhludoff. "I went there +twice, and felt very much depressed." + +"Do you know, you ought to get acquainted with the Countess +Passek," continued Maslennikoff, growing talkative. "She has +given herself up entirely to this sort of work. Elle fait +beaucoup de bien. Thanks to her--and, perhaps I may add without +false modesty, to me--everything has been changed, changed in +such a way that the former horrors no longer exist, and they are +really quite comfortable there. Well, you'll see. There's +Fanarin. I do not know him personally; besides, my social +position keeps our ways apart; but he is positively a bad man, +and besides, he takes the liberty of saying such things in the +court--such things!" + +"Well, thank you," Nekhludoff said, taking the paper, and without +listening further he bade good-day to his former comrade. + +"And won't you go in to see my wife?" + +"No, pray excuse me; I have no time now." + +"Dear me, why she will never forgive me," said Maslennikoff, +accompanying his old acquaintance down to the first landing, as +he was in the habit of doing to persons of not the greatest, but +the second greatest importance, with whom he classed Nekhludoff; +"now do go in, if only for a moment." + +But Nekhludoff remained firm; and while the footman and the +door-keeper rushed to give him his stick and overcoat, and opened +the door, outside of which there stood a policeman, Nekhludoff +repeated that he really could not come in. + +"Well, then; on Thursday, please. It is her 'at-home.' I will +tell her you will come," shouted Maslennikoff from the stairs. + + + +CHAPTER LI. + +THE CELLS. + +Nekhludoff drove that day straight from Maslennikoff's to the +prison, and went to the inspector's lodging, which he now knew. +He was again struck by the sounds of the same piano of inferior +quality; but this time it was not a rhapsody that was being +played, but exercises by Clementi, again with the same vigour, +distinctness, and quickness. The servant with the bandaged eye +said the inspector was in, and showed Nekhludoff to a small +drawing-room, in which there stood a sofa and, in front of it, a +table, with a large lamp, which stood on a piece of crochet work, +and the paper shade of which was burnt on one side. The chief +inspector entered, with his usual sad and weary look. + +"Take a seat, please. What is it you want?" he said, buttoning up +the middle button of his uniform. + +"I have just been to the vice-governor's, and got this order from +him. I should like to see the prisoner Maslova." + +"Markova?" asked the inspector, unable to bear distinctly because +of the music. + +"Maslova!" + +"Well, yes." The inspector got up and went to the door whence +proceeded Clementi's roulades. + +"Mary, can't you stop just a minute?" he said, in a voice that +showed that this music was the bane of his life. "One can't hear +a word." + +The piano was silent, but one could hear the sound of reluctant +steps, and some one looked in at the door. + +The inspector seemed to feel eased by the interval of silence, +lit a thick cigarette of weak tobacco, and offered one to +Nekhludoff. + +Nekhludoff refused. + +"What I want is to see Maslova." + +"Oh, yes, that can be managed. Now, then, what do you want?" he +said, addressing a little girl of five or six, who came into the +room and walked up to her father with her head turned towards +Nekhludoff, and her eyes fixed on him. + +"There, now, you'll fall down," said the inspector, smiling, as +the little girl ran up to him, and, not looking where she was +going, caught her foot in a little rug. + +"Well, then, if I may, I shall go." + +"It's not very convenient to see Maslova to-day," said the +inspector. + +"How's that?" + +"Well, you know, it's all your own fault," said the inspector, +with a slight smile. "Prince, give her no money into her hands. +If you like, give it me. I will keep it for her. You see, you +gave her some money yesterday; she got some spirits (it's an evil +we cannot manage to root out), and to-day she is quite tipsy, +even violent." + +"Can this be true?" + +"Oh, yes, it is. I have even been obliged to have recourse to +severe measures, and to put her into a separate cell. She is a +quiet woman in an ordinary way. But please do not give her any +money. These people are so--" What had happened the day before +came vividly back to Nekhludoff's mind, and again he was seized +with fear. + +"And Doukhova, a political prisoner; might I see her?" + +"Yes, if you like," said the inspector. He embraced the little +girl, who was still looking at Nekhludoff, got up, and, tenderly +motioning her aside, went into the ante-room. Hardly had he got +into the overcoat which the maid helped him to put on, and before +he had reached the door, the distinct sounds of Clementi's +roulades again began. + +"She entered the Conservatoire, but there is such disorder there. +She has a great gift," said the inspector, as they went down the +stairs. "She means to play at concerts." + +The inspector and Nekhludoff arrived at the prison. The gates +were instantly opened as they appeared. The jailers, with their +fingers lifted to their caps, followed the inspector with their +eyes. Four men, with their heads half shaved, who were carrying +tubs filled with something, cringed when they saw the inspector. +One of them frowned angrily, his black eyes glaring. + +"Of course a talent like that must be developed; it would not do +to bury it, but in a small lodging, you know, it is rather hard." +The inspector went on with the conversation, taking no notice of +the prisoners. + +"Who is it you want to see?" + +"Doukhova." + +"Oh, she's in the tower. You'll have to wait a little," he said. + +"Might I not meanwhile see the prisoners Menshoff, mother and +son, who are accused of incendiarism?" + +"Oh, yes. Cell No. 21. Yes, they can be sent for." + +"But might I not see Menshoff in his cell?" + +"Oh, you'll find the waiting-room more pleasant." + +"No. I should prefer the cell. It is more interesting." + +"Well, you have found something to be interested in!" + +Here the assistant, a smartly-dressed officer, entered the side +door. + +"Here, see the Prince into Menshoff's cell, No. 21," said the +inspector to his assistant, "and then take him to the office. And +I'll go and call--What's her name? Vera Doukhova." + +The inspector's assistant was young, with dyed moustaches, and +diffusing the smell of eau-de-cologne. "This way, please," he +said to Nekhludoff, with a pleasant smile. "Our establishment +interests you?" + +"Yes, it does interest me; and, besides, I look upon it as a duty +to help a man who I heard was confined here, though innocent." + +The assistant shrugged his shoulders. + +"Yes, that may happen," he said quietly, politely stepping aside +to let the visitor enter, the stinking corridor first. "But it +also happens that they lie. Here we are." + +The doors of the cells were open, and some of the prisoners were +in the corridor. The assistant nodded slightly to the jailers, +and cast a side glance at the prisoners, who, keeping close to +the wall, crept back to their cells, or stood like soldiers, with +their arms at their sides, following the official with their +eyes. After passing through one corridor, the assistant showed +Nekhludoff into another to the left, separated from the first by +an iron door. This corridor was darker, and smelt even worse than +the first. The corridor had doors on both sides, with little +holes in them about an inch in diameter. There was only an old +jailer, with an unpleasant face, in this corridor. + +"Where is Menshoff?" asked the inspector's assistant. + +"The eighth cell to the left." + +"And these? Are they occupied?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"Yes, all but one." + + + +CHAPTER LII. + +NO. 21. + +"May I look in?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"Oh, certainly," answered the assistant, smiling, and turned to +the jailer with some question. + +Nekhludoff looked into one of the little holes, and saw a tall +young man pacing up and down the cell. When the man heard some +one at the door he looked up with a frown, but continued walking +up and down. + +Nekhludoff looked into another hole. His eye met another large +eye looking out of the hole at him, and he quickly stepped aside. +In the third cell he saw a very small man asleep on the bed, +covered, head and all, with his prison cloak. In the fourth a +broad-faced man was sitting with his elbows on his knees and his +head low down. At the sound of footsteps this man raised his head +and looked up. His face, especially his large eyes, bore the +expression of hopeless dejection. One could see that it did not +even interest him to know who was looking into his cell. Whoever +it might be, he evidently hoped for nothing good from him. +Nekhludoff was seized with dread, and went to Menshoff's cell, +No. 21, without stopping to look through any more holes. The +jailer unlocked the door and opened it. A young man, with long +neck, well-developed muscles, a small head, and kind, round eyes, +stood by the bed, hastily putting on his cloak, and looking at +the newcomers with a frightened face. Nekhludoff was specially +struck by the kind, round eyes that were throwing frightened and +inquiring glances in turns at him, at the jailer, and at the +assistant, and back again. + +"Here's a gentleman wants to inquire into your affair." + +"Thank you kindly." + +"Yes, I was told about you," Nekhludoff said, going through the +cell up to the dirty grated window, "and I should like to hear +all about it from yourself." + +Menshoff also came up to the window, and at once started telling +his story, at first looking shyly at the inspector's assistant, +but growing gradually bolder. When the assistant left the cell +and went into the corridor to give some order the man grew quite +bold. The story was told with the accent and in the manner common +to a most ordinary good peasant lad. To hear it told by a +prisoner dressed in this degrading clothing, and inside a prison, +seemed very strange to Nekhludoff. Nekhludoff listened, and at +the same time kept looking around him--at the low bedstead with +its straw mattress, the window and the dirty, damp wall, and the +piteous face and form of this unfortunate, disfigured peasant in +his prison cloak and shoes, and he felt sadder and sadder, and +would have liked not to believe what this good-natured fellow was +saying. It seemed too dreadful to think that men could do such a +thing as to take a man, dress him in convict clothes, and put him +in this horrible place without any reason only because he himself +had been injured. And yet the thought that this seemingly true +story, told with such a good-natured expression on the face, +might be an invention and a lie was still more dreadful. This was +the story: The village public-house keeper had enticed the young +fellow's wife. He tried to get justice by all sorts of means. But +everywhere the public-house keeper managed to bribe the +officials, and was acquitted. Once, he took his wife back by +force, but she ran away next day. Then he came to demand her +back, but, though he saw her when he came in, the public-house +keeper told him she was not there, and ordered him to go away. He +would not go, so the public-house keeper and his servant beat him +so that they drew blood. The next day a fire broke out in the +public-house, and the young man and his mother were accused of +having set the house on fire. He had not set it on fire, but was +visiting a friend at the time. + +"And it is true that you did not set it on fire?" + +"It never entered my head to do it, sir. It must be my enemy that +did it himself. They say he had only just insured it. Then they +said it was mother and I that did it, and that we had threatened +him. It is true I once did go for him, my heart couldn't stand it +any longer." + +"Can this be true?" + +"God is my witness it is true. Oh, sir, be so good--" and +Nekhludoff had some difficulty to prevent him from bowing down to +the ground. "You see I am perishing without any reason." His face +quivered and he turned up the sleeve of his cloak and began to +cry, wiping the tears with the sleeve of his dirty shirt. + +"Are you ready?" asked the assistant. + +"Yes. Well, cheer up. We will consult a good lawyer, and will do +what we can," said Nekhludoff, and went out. Menshoff stood close +to the door, so that the jailer knocked him in shutting it, and +while the jailer was locking it he remained looking out through +the little hole. + + + +CHAPTER LIII. + +VICTIMS OF GOVERNMENT. + +Passing back along the broad corridor (it was dinner time, and +the cell doors were open), among the men dressed in their light +yellow cloaks, short, wide trousers, and prison shoes, who were +looking eagerly at him, Nekhludoff felt a strange mixture of +sympathy for them, and horror and perplexity at the conduct of +those who put and kept them here, and, besides, he felt, he knew +not why, ashamed of himself calmly examining it all. + +In one of the corridors, some one ran, clattering with his shoes, +in at the door of a cell. Several men came out from here, and +stood in Nekhludoff's way, bowing to him. + +"Please, your honour (we don't know what to call you), get our +affair settled somehow." + +"I am not an official. I know nothing about it." + +"Well, anyhow, you come from outside; tell somebody--one of the +authorities, if need be," said an indignant voice. "Show some +pity on us, as a human being. Here we are suffering the second +month for nothing." + +"What do you mean? Why?" said Nekhludoff. + +"Why? We ourselves don't know why, but are sitting here the +second month." + +"Yes, it's quite true, and it is owing to an accident," said the +inspector. "These people were taken up because they had no +passports, and ought to have been sent back to their native +government; but the prison there is burnt, and the local +authorities have written, asking us not to send them on. So we +have sent all the other passportless people to their different +governments, but are keeping these." + +"What! For no other reason than that?" Nekhludoff exclaimed, +stopping at the door. + +A crowd of about forty men, all dressed in prison clothes, +surrounded him and the assistant, and several began talking at +once. The assistant stopped them. + +"Let some one of you speak." + +A tall, good-looking peasant, a stone-mason, of about fifty, +stepped out from the rest. He told Nekhludoff that all of them +had been ordered back to their homes and were now being kept in +prison because they had no passports, yet they had passports +which were only a fortnight overdue. The same thing had happened +every year; they had many times omitted to renew their passports +till they were overdue, and nobody had ever said anything; but +this year they had been taken up and were being kept in prison +the second month, as if they were criminals. + +"We are all masons, and belong to the same artel. We are told +that the prison in our government is burnt, but this is not our +fault. Do help us." + +Nekhludoff listened, but hardly understood what the good-looking +old man was saying, because his attention was riveted to a large, +dark-grey, many-legged louse that was creeping along the +good-looking man's cheek. + +"How's that? Is it possible for such a reason?" Nekhludoff said, +turning to the assistant. + +"Yes, they should have been sent off and taken back to their +homes," calmly said the assistant, "but they seem to have been +forgotten or something." + +Before the assistant had finished, a small, nervous man, also in +prison dress, came out of the crowd, and, strangely contorting +his mouth, began to say that they were being ill-used for +nothing. + +"Worse than dogs," he began. + +"Now, now; not too much of this. Hold your tongue, or you know--" + +"What do I know?" screamed the little man, desperately. "What is +our crime?" + +"Silence!" shouted the assistant, and the little man was silent. + +"But what is the meaning of all this?" Nekhludoff thought to +himself as he came out of the cell, while a hundred eyes were +fixed upon him through the openings of the cell doors and from +the prisoners that met him, making him feel as if he were running +the gauntlet. + +"Is it really possible that perfectly innocent people are kept +here?" Nekhludoff uttered when they left the corridor. + +"What would you have us do? They lie so. To hear them talk they +are all of them innocent," said the inspector's assistant. "But +it does happen that some are really imprisoned for nothing." + +"Well, these have done nothing." + +"Yes, we must admit it. Still, the people are fearfully spoilt. +There are such types--desperate fellows, with whom one has to +look sharp. To-day two of that sort had to be punished." + +"Punished? How?" + +"Flogged with a birch-rod, by order." + +"But corporal punishment is abolished." + +"Not for such as are deprived of their rights. They are still +liable to it." + +Nekhludoff thought of what he had seen the day before while +waiting in the hall, and now understood that the punishment was +then being inflicted, and the mixed feeling of curiosity, +depression, perplexity, and moral nausea, that grew into physical +sickness, took hold of him more strongly than ever before. + +Without listening to the inspector's assistant, or looking round, +he hurriedly left the corridor, and went to the office. The +inspector was in the office, occupied with other business, and +had forgotten to send for Doukhova. He only remembered his +promise to have her called when Nekhludoff entered the office. + +"Sit down, please. I'll send for her at once," said the +inspector. + + + +CHAPTER LIV. + +PRISONERS AND FRIENDS. + +The office consisted of two rooms. The first room, with a large, +dilapidated stove and two dirty windows, had a black measure for +measuring the prisoners in one corner, and in another corner hung +a large image of Christ, as is usual in places where they torture +people. In this room stood several jailers. In the next room sat +about twenty persons, men and women in groups and in pairs, +talking in low voices. There was a writing table by the window. + +The inspector sat down by the table, and offered Nekhludoff a +chair beside him. Nekhludoff sat down, and looked at the people +in the room. + +The first who drew his attention was a young man with a pleasant +face, dressed in a short jacket, standing in front of a +middle-aged woman with dark eyebrows, and he was eagerly telling +her something and gesticulating with his hands. Beside them sat +an old man, with blue spectacles, holding the hand of a young +woman in prisoner's clothes, who was telling him something. A +schoolboy, with a fixed, frightened look on his face, was gazing +at the old man. In one corner sat a pair of lovers. She was quite +young and pretty, and had short, fair hair, looked energetic, and +was elegantly dressed; he had fine features, wavy hair, and wore +a rubber jacket. They sat in their corner and seemed stupefied +with love. Nearest to the table sat a grey-haired woman dressed +in black, evidently the mother of a young, consumptive-looking +fellow, in the same kind of jacket. Her head lay on his shoulder. +She was trying to say something, but the tears prevented her from +speaking; she began several times, but had to stop. The young man +held a paper in his hand, and, apparently not knowing what to do, +kept folding and pressing it with an angry look on his face. + +Beside them was a short-haired, stout, rosy girl, with very +prominent eyes, dressed in a grey dress and a cape; she sat +beside the weeping mother, tenderly stroking her. Everything +about this girl was beautiful; her large, white hands, her short, +wavy hair, her firm nose and lips, but the chief charm of her +face lay in her kind, truthful hazel eyes. The beautiful eyes +turned away from the mother for a moment when Nekhludoff came in, +and met his look. But she turned back at once and said something +to the mother. + +Not far from the lovers a dark, dishevelled man, with a gloomy +face, sat angrily talking to a beardless visitor, who looked as +if he belonged to the Scoptsy sect. + +At the very door stood a young man in a rubber jacket, who seemed +more concerned about the impression he produced on the onlooker +than about what he was saying. Nekhludoff, sitting by the +inspector's side, looked round with strained curiosity. A little +boy with closely-cropped hair came up to him and addressed him in +a thin little voice. + +"And whom are you waiting for?" + +Nekhludoff was surprised at the question, but looking at the boy, +and seeing the serious little face with its bright, attentive +eyes fixed on him, answered him seriously that he was waiting for +a woman of his acquaintance. + +"Is she, then, your sister?" the boy asked. + +"No, not my sister," Nekhludoff answered in surprise. + +"And with whom are you here?" he inquired of the boy. + +"I? With mamma; she is a political one," he replied. + +"Mary Pavlovna, take Kolia!" said the inspector, evidently +considering Nekhludoff's conversation with the boy illegal. + +Mary Pavlovna, the beautiful girl who had attracted Nekhludoff's +attention, rose tall and erect, and with firm, almost manly +steps, approached Nekhludoff and the boy. + +"What is he asking you? Who you are?" she inquired with a slight +smile, and looking straight into his face with a trustful look in +her kind, prominent eyes, and as simply as if there could be no +doubt whatever that she was and must be on sisterly terms with +everybody. + +"He likes to know everything," she said, looking at the boy with +so sweet and kind a smile that both the boy and Nekhludoff were +obliged to smile back. + +"He was asking me whom I have come to see." + +"Mary Pavlovna, it is against the rules to speak to strangers. +You know it is," said the inspector. + +"All right, all right," she said, and went back to the +consumptive lad's mother, holding Kolia's little hand in her +large, white one, while he continued gazing up into her face. + +"Whose is this little boy?" Nekhludoff asked of the inspector. + +"His mother is a political prisoner, and he was born in prison," +said the inspector, in a pleased tone, as if glad to point out +how exceptional his establishment was. + +"Is it possible?" + +"Yes, and now he is going to Siberia with her." + +"And that young girl?" + +"I cannot answer your question," said the inspector, shrugging +his shoulders. "Besides, here is Doukhova." + + + +CHAPTER LV. + +VERA DOUKHOVA EXPLAINS. + +Through a door, at the back of the room, entered, with a +wriggling gait, the thin, yellow Vera Doukhova, with her large, +kind eyes. + +"Thanks for having come," she said, pressing Nekhludoff's hand. +"Do you remember me? Let us sit down." + +"I did not expect to see you like this." + +"Oh, I am very happy. It is so delightful, so delightful, that I +desire nothing better," said Vera Doukhova, with the usual +expression of fright in the large, kind, round eyes fixed on +Nekhludoff, and twisting the terribly thin, sinewy neck, +surrounded by the shabby, crumpled, dirty collar of her bodice. +Nekhludoff asked her how she came to be in prison. + +In answer she began relating all about her affairs with great +animation. Her speech was intermingled with a great many long +words, such as propaganda, disorganisation, social groups, +sections and sub-sections, about which she seemed to think +everybody knew, but which Nekhludoff had never heard of. + +She told him all the secrets of the Nardovolstvo, [literally, +"People's Freedom," a revolutionary movement] evidently +convinced that he was pleased to hear them. Nekhludoff looked at +her miserable little neck, her thin, unkempt hair, and wondered +why she had been doing all these strange things, and why she was +now telling all this to him. He pitied her, but not as he had +pitied Menshoff, the peasant, kept for no fault of his own in the +stinking prison. She was pitiable because of the confusion that +filled her mind. It was clear that she considered herself a +heroine, and was ready to give her life for a cause, though she +could hardly have explained what that cause was and in what its +success would lie. + +The business that Vera Doukhova wanted to see Nekhludoff about +was the following: A friend of hers, who had not even belonged to +their "sub-group," as she expressed it, had been arrested with +her about five months before, and imprisoned in the +Petropavlovsky fortress because some prohibited books and papers +(which she had been asked to keep) had been found in her +possession. Vera Doukhova felt herself in some measure to blame +for her friend's arrest, and implored Nekhludoff, who had +connections among influential people, to do all he could in order +to set this friend free. + +Besides this, Doukhova asked him to try and get permission for +another friend of hers, Gourkevitch (who was also imprisoned in +the Petropavlovsky fortress), to see his parents, and to procure +some scientific books which he required for his studies. +Nekhludoff promised to do what he could when he went to +Petersburg. + +As to her own story, this is what she said: Having finished a +course of midwifery, she became connected with a group of +adherents to the Nardovolstvo, and made up her mind to agitate in +the revolutionary movement. At first all went on smoothly. She +wrote proclamations and occupied herself with propaganda work in +the factories; then, an important member having been arrested, +their papers were seized and all concerned were arrested. "I was +also arrested, and shall be exiled. But what does it matter? I +feel perfectly happy." She concluded her story with a piteous +smile. + +Nekhludoff made some inquiries concerning the girl with the +prominent eyes. Vera Doukhova told him that this girl was the +daughter of a general, and had been long attached to the +revolutionary party, and was arrested because she had pleaded +guilty to having shot a gendarme. She lived in a house with some +conspirators, where they had a secret printing press. One night, +when the police came to search this house, the occupiers resolved +to defend themselves, put out the light, and began destroying the +things that might incriminate them. The police forced their way +in, and one of the conspirators fired, and mortally wounded a +gendarme. When an inquiry was instituted, this girl said that it +was she who had fired, although she had never had a revolver in +her hands, and would not have hurt a fly. And she kept to it, and +was now condemned to penal servitude in Siberia. + +"An altruistic, fine character," said Vera Doukhova, approvingly. + +The third business that Vera Doukhova wanted to talk about +concerned Maslova. She knew, as everybody does know in prison, +the story of Maslova's life and his connection with her, and +advised him to take steps to get her removed into the political +prisoner's ward, or into the hospital to help to nurse the sick, +of which there were very many at that time, so that extra nurses +were needed. + +Nekhludoff thanked her for the advice, and said he would try to +act upon it. + + + +CHAPTER LVI. + +NEKHLUDOFF AND THE PRISONERS. + +Their conversation was interrupted by the inspector, who said +that the time was up, and the prisoners and their friends must +part. Nekhludoff took leave of Vera Doukhova and went to the +door, where he stopped to watch what was going on. + +The inspector's order called forth only heightened animation +among the prisoners in the room, but no one seemed to think of +going. Some rose and continued to talk standing, some went on +talking without rising. A few began crying and taking leave of +each other. The mother and her consumptive son seemed especially +pathetic. The young fellow kept twisting his bit of paper and his +face seemed angry, so great were his efforts not to be infected +by his mother's emotion. The mother, hearing that it was time to +part, put her head on his shoulder and sobbed and sniffed aloud. + +The girl with the prominent eyes--Nekhludoff could not help +watching her--was standing opposite the sobbing mother, and was +saying something to her in a soothing tone. The old man with the +blue spectacles stood holding his daughter's hand and nodding in +answer to what she said. The young lovers rose, and, holding each +other's hands, looked silently into one another's eyes. + +"These are the only two who are merry," said a young man with a +short coat who stood by Nekhludoff's side, also looking at those +who were about to part, and pointed to the lovers. Feeling +Nekhludoff's and the young man's eyes fixed on them, the lovers-- +the young man with the rubber coat and the pretty girl--stretched +out their arms, and with their hands clasped in each other's, +danced round and round again. "To-night they are going to be +married here in prison, and she will follow him to Siberia," said +the young man. + +"What is he?" + +"A convict, condemned to penal servitude. Let those two at least +have a little joy, or else it is too painful," the young man +added, listening to the sobs of the consumptive lad's mother. + +"Now, my good people! Please, please do not oblige me to have +recourse to severe measures," the inspector said, repeating the +same words several times over. "Do, please," he went on in a +weak, hesitating manner. "It is high time. What do you mean by +it? This sort of thing is quite impossible. I am now asking you +for the last time," he repeated wearily, now putting out his +cigarette and then lighting another. + +It was evident that, artful, old, and common as were the devices +enabling men to do evil to others without feeling responsible for +it, the inspector could not but feel conscious that he was one of +those who were guilty of causing the sorrow which manifested +itself in this room. And it was apparent that this troubled him +sorely. At length the prisoners and their visitors began to +go--the first out of the inner, the latter out of the outer door. +The man with the rubber jacket passed out among them, and the +consumptive youth and the dishevelled man. Mary Pavlovna went out +with the boy born in prison. + +The visitors went out too. The old man with the blue spectacles, +stepping heavily, went out, followed by Nekhludoff. + +"Yes, a strange state of things this," said the talkative young +man, as if continuing an interrupted conversation, as he +descended the stairs side by side with Nekhludoff. "Yet we have +reason to be grateful to the inspector who does not keep strictly +to the rules, kind-hearted fellow. If they can get a talk it does +relieve their hearts a bit, after all!" + +While talking to the young man, who introduced himself as +Medinzeff, Nekhludoff reached the hall. There the inspector came +up to them with weary step. + +"If you wish to see Maslova," he said, apparently desiring to be +polite to Nekhludoff, "please come to-morrow." + +"Very well," answered Nekhludoff, and hurried away, experiencing +more than ever that sensation of moral nausea which he always +felt on entering the prison. + +The sufferings of the evidently innocent Menshoff seemed +terrible, and not so much his physical suffering as the +perplexity, the distrust in the good and in God which he must +feel, seeing the cruelty of the people who tormented him without +any reason. + +Terrible were the disgrace and sufferings cast on these hundreds +of guiltless people simply because something was not written on +paper as it should have been. Terrible were the brutalised +jailers, whose occupation is to torment their brothers, and who +were certain that they were fulfilling an important and useful +duty; but most terrible of all seemed this sickly, elderly, +kind-hearted inspector, who was obliged to part mother and son, +father and daughter, who were just the same sort of people as he +and his own children. + +"What is it all for?" Nekhludoff asked himself, and could not +find an answer. + + + +CHAPTER LVII. + +THE VICE-GOVERNOR'S "AT-HOME". + +The next day Nekhludoff went to see the advocate, and spoke to +him about the Menshoffs' case, begging him to undertake their +defence. The advocate promised to look into the case, and if it +turned out to be as Nekhludoff said he would in all probability +undertake the defence free of charge. Then Nekhludoff told him of +the 130 men who were kept in prison owing to a mistake. "On whom +did it depend? Whose fault was it?" + +The advocate was silent for a moment, evidently anxious to give a +correct reply. + +"Whose fault is it? No one's," he said, decidedly. "Ask the +Procureur, he'll say it is the Governor's; ask the Governor, +he'll say it is the Procureur's fault. No one is in fault." + +"I am just going to see the Vice-Governor. I shall tell him." + +"Oh, that's quite useless," said the advocate, with a smile. "He +is such a--he is not a relation or friend of yours?--such a +blockhead, if I may say so, and yet a crafty animal at the same +time." + +Nekhludoff remembered what Maslennikoff had said about the +advocate, and did not answer, but took leave and went on to +Maslennikoff's. He had to ask Maslennikoff two things: about +Maslova's removal to the prison hospital, and about the 130 +passportless men innocently imprisoned. Though it was very hard +to petition a man whom he did not respect, and by whose orders +men were flogged, yet it was the only means of gaining his end, +and he had to go through with it. + +As he drove up to Maslennikoff's house Nekhludoff saw a number of +different carriages by the front door, and remembered that it was +Maslennikoff's wife's "at-home" day, to which he had been +invited. At the moment Nekhludoff drove up there was a carriage +in front of the door, and a footman in livery, with a cockade in +his hat, was helping a lady down the doorstep. She was holding up +her train, and showing her thin ankles, black stockings, and +slippered feet. Among the carriages was a closed landau, which he +knew to be the Korchagins'. + +The grey-haired, red-checked coachman took off his hat and bowed +in a respectful yet friendly manner to Nekhludoff, as to a +gentleman he knew well. Nekhludoff had not had time to inquire +for Maslennikoff, when the latter appeared on the carpeted +stairs, accompanying a very important guest not only to the first +landing but to the bottom of the stairs. This very important +visitor, a military man, was speaking in French about a lottery +for the benefit of children's homes that were to be founded in +the city, and expressed the opinion that this was a good +occupation for the ladies. "It amuses them, and the money comes." + +_"Qu'elles s'amusent et que le bon dieu les benisse. M. +Nekhludoff!_ How d'you do? How is it one never sees you?" he +greeted Nekhludoff. "_Allez presenter vos devoirs a Madame._ And +the Korchagins are here et Nadine Bukshevden. _Toutes les jolies +femmes de la ville,_" said the important guest, slightly raising +his uniformed shoulders as he presented them to his own richly +liveried servant to have his military overcoat put on. "_Au +revoir, mon cher._" And he pressed Maslennikoff's hand. + +"Now, come up; I am so glad," said Maslennikoff, grasping +Nekhludoff's hand. In spite of his corpulency Maslennikoff +hurried quickly up the stairs. He was in particularly good +spirits, owing to the attention paid him by the important +personage. Every such attention gave him the same sense of +delight as is felt by an affectionate dog when its master pats +it, strokes it, or scratches its ears. It wags its tail, cringes, +jumps about, presses its ears down, and madly rushes about in a +circle. Maslennikoff was ready to do the same. He did not notice +the serious expression on Nekhludoff's face, paid no heed to his +words, but pulled him irresistibly towards the drawing-room, so +that it was impossible for Nekhludoff not to follow. "Business +after wards. I shall do whatever you want," said Meslennikoff, as +he drew Nekhludoff through the dancing hall. "Announce Prince +Nekhludoff," he said to a footman, without stopping on his way. +The footman started off at a trot and passed them. + +"_Vous n'avez qu' a ordonner._ But you must see my wife. As it is, +I got it for letting you go without seeing her last time." + +By the time they reached the drawing-room the footman had already +announced Nekhludoff, and from between the bonnets and heads that +surrounded it the smiling face of Anna Ignatievna, the +Vice-Governor's wife, beamed on Nekhludoff. At the other end of +the drawing-room several ladies were seated round the tea-table, +and some military men and some civilians stood near them. The +clatter of male and female voices went on unceasingly. + +"Enfin! you seem to have quite forgotten us. How have we +offended?" With these words, intended to convey an idea of +intimacy which had never existed between herself and Nekhludoff, +Anna Ignatievna greeted the newcomer. + +"You are acquainted?--Madam Tilyaevsky, M. Chernoff. Sit down a +bit nearer. Missy _vene donc a notre table on vous apportera votre_ +the . . . And you," she said, having evidently forgotten his +name, to an officer who was talking to Missy, "do come here. A +cup of tea, Prince?" + +"I shall never, never agree with you. It's quite simple; she did +not love," a woman's voice was heard saying. + +"But she loved tarts." + +"Oh, your eternal silly jokes!" put in, laughingly, another lady +resplendent in silks, gold, and jewels. + +"C'est excellent these little biscuits, and so light. I think +I'll take another." + +"Well, are you moving soon?" + +"Yes, this is our last day. That's why we have come. Yes, it must +be lovely in the country; we are having a delightful spring." + +Missy, with her hat on, in a dark-striped dress of some kind that +fitted her like a skin, was looking very handsome. She blushed +when she saw Nekhludoff. + +"And I thought you had left," she said to him. + +"I am on the point of leaving. Business is keeping me in town, +and it is on business I have come here." + +"Won't you come to see mamma? She would like to see you," she +said, and knowing that she was saying what was not true, and that +he knew it also, she blushed still more. + +"I fear I shall scarcely have time," Nekhludoff said gloomily, +trying to appear as if he had not noticed her blush. Missy +frowned angrily, shrugged her shoulders, and turned towards an +elegant officer, who grasped the empty cup she was holding, and +knocking his sword against the chairs, manfully carried the cup +across to another table. + +"You must contribute towards the Home fund." + +"I am not refusing, but only wish to keep my bounty fresh for the +lottery. There I shall let it appear in all its glory." + +"Well, look out for yourself," said a voice, followed by an +evidently feigned laugh. + +Anna Ignatievna was in raptures; her "at-home" had turned out a +brilliant success. "Micky tells me you are busying yourself with +prison work. I can understand you so well," she said to +Nekhludoff. "Micky (she meant her fat husband, Maslennikoff) may +have other defects, but you know how kind-hearted he is. All +these miserable prisoners are his children. He does not regard +them in any other light. _Il est d'une bonte---_" and she stopped, +finding no words to do justice to this bonte of his, and quickly +turned to a shrivelled old woman with bows of lilac ribbon all +over, who came in just then. + +Having said as much as was absolutely necessary, and with as +little meaning as conventionality required, Nekhludoff rose and +went up to Meslennikoff. "Can you give me a few minutes' hearing, +please?" + +"Oh, yes. Well, what is it?" + +"Let us come in here." + +They entered a small Japanese sitting-room, and sat down by the +window. + + + +CHAPTER LVIII. + +THE VICE-GOVERNOR SUSPICIOUS. + +"Well? _Je suis a vous_. Will you smoke? But wait a bit; we must be +careful and not make a mess here," said Maslennikoff, and brought +an ashpan. "Well?" + +"There are two matters I wish to ask you about." + +"Dear me!" + +An expression of gloom and dejection came over Maslennikoff's +countenance, and every trace of the excitement, like that of the +dog's whom its master has scratched behind the cars, vanished +completely. The sound of voices reached them from the drawing- +room. A woman's voice was heard, saying, _"Jamais je ne croirais,"_ +and a man's voice from the other side relating something in which +the names of la Comtesse Voronzoff and Victor Apraksine kept +recurring. A hum of voices, mixed with laughter, came from +another side. Maslennikoff tried to listen to what was going on +in the drawing-room and to what Nekhludoff was saying at the same +time. + +"I am again come about that same woman," said Nekhludoff. + +"Oh, yes; I know. The one innocently condemned." + +"I would like to ask that she should be appointed to serve in the +prison hospital. I have been told that this could be arranged." + +Maslennikoff compressed his lips and meditated. "That will be +scarcely possible," he said. "However, I shall see what can be +done, and shall wire you an answer tomorrow." + +"I have been told that there were many sick, and help was +needed." + +"All right, all right. I shall let you know in any case." + +"Please do," said Nekhludoff. + +The sound of a general and even a natural laugh came from the +drawing-room. + +"That's all that Victor. He is wonderfully sharp when he is in +the right vein," said Maslennikoff. + +"The next thing I wanted to tell you," said Nekhludoff, "is that +130 persons are imprisoned only because their passports are +overdue. They have been kept here a month." + +And he related the circumstances of the case. + +"How have you come to know of this?" said Maslennikoff, looking +uneasy and dissatisfied. + +"I went to see a prisoner, and these men came and surrounded me +in the corridor, and asked . . ." + +"What prisoner did you go to see?" + +"A peasant who is kept in prison, though innocent. I have put his +case into the hands of a lawyer. But that is not the point." + +"Is it possible that people who have done no wrong are imprisoned +only because their passports are overdue? And . . ." + +"That's the Procureur's business," Maslennikoff interrupted, +angrily. "There, now, you see what it is you call a prompt and +just form of trial. It is the business of the Public Prosecutor +to visit the prison and to find out if the prisoners are kept +there lawfully. But that set play cards; that's all they do." + +"Am I to understand that you can do nothing?" Nekhludoff said, +despondently, remembering that the advocate had foretold that the +Governor would put the blame on the Procureur. + +"Oh, yes, I can. I shall see about it at once." + +"So much the worse for her. _C'est un souffre douleur_," came the +voice of a woman, evidently indifferent to what she was saying, +from the drawing-room. + +"So much the better. I shall take it also," a man's voice was +heard to say from the other side, followed by the playful +laughter of a woman, who was apparently trying to prevent the man +from taking something away from her. + +"No, no; not on any account," the woman's voice said. + +"All right, then. I shall do all this," Maslennikoff repeated, +and put out the cigarette he held in his white, turquoise-ringed +hand. "And now let us join the ladies." + +"Wait a moment," Nekhludoff said, stopping at the door of the +drawing-room. "I was told that some men had received corporal +punishment in the prison yesterday. Is this true?" + +Maslennikoff blushed. + +"Oh, that's what you are after? No, mon cher, decidedly it won't +do to let you in there; you want to get at everything. Come, +come; Anna is calling us," he said, catching Nekhludoff by the +arm, and again becoming as excited as after the attention paid +him by the important person, only now his excitement was not +joyful, but anxious. + +Nekhludoff pulled his arm away, and without taking leave of any +one and without saying a word, he passed through the drawing-room +with a dejected look, went down into the hall, past the footman, +who sprang towards him, and out at the street door. + +"What is the matter with him? What have you done to him?" asked +Anna of her husband. + +"This is _a la Francaise_," remarked some one. + +"_A la Francaise_, indeed--it is _a la Zoulou_." + +"Oh, but he's always been like that." + +Some one rose, some one came in, and the clatter went on its +course. The company used this episode with Nekhludoff as a +convenient topic of conversation for the rest of the "at-home." + +On the day following his visit to Maslennikoff, Nekhludoff +received a letter from him, written in a fine, firm hand, on +thick, glazed paper, with a coat-of-arms, and sealed with +sealing-wax. Maslennikoff said that he had written to the doctor +concerning Maslova's removal to the hospital, and hoped +Nekhludoff's wish would receive attention. The letter was signed, +"Your affectionate elder comrade," and the signature ended with a +large, firm, and artistic flourish. "Fool!" Nekhludoff could not +refrain from saying, especially because in the word "comrade" he +felt Maslennikoff's condescension towards him, i.e., while +Maslennikoff was filling this position, morally most dirty and +shameful, he still thought himself a very important man, and +wished, if not exactly to flatter Nekhludoff, at least to show +that he was not too proud to call him comrade. + + + +CHAPTER LIX. + +NEKHLUDOFF'S THIRD INTERVIEW WITH MASLOVA IN PRISON. + +One of the most widespread superstitions is that every man has +his own special, definite qualities; that a man is kind, cruel, +wise, stupid, energetic, apathetic, etc. Men are not like that. +We may say of a man that he is more often kind than cruel, +oftener wise than stupid, oftener energetic than apathetic, or +the reverse; but it would be false to say of one man that he is +kind and wise, of another that he is wicked and foolish. And yet +we always classify mankind in this way. And this is untrue. Men +are like rivers: the water is the same in each, and alike in all; +but every river is narrow here, is more rapid there, here slower, +there broader, now clear, now cold, now dull, now warm. It is the +same with men. Every man carries in himself the germs of every +human quality, and sometimes one manifests itself, sometimes +another, and the man often becomes unlike himself, while still +remaining the same man, In some people these changes are very +rapid, and Nekhludoff was such a man. These changes in him were +due to physical and to spiritual causes. At this time he +experienced such a change. + +That feeling of triumph and joy at the renewal of life which he +had experienced after the trial and after the first interview +with Katusha, vanished completely, and after the last interview +fear and revulsion took the place of that joy. He was determined +not to leave her, and not to change his decision of marrying her, +if she wished it; but it seemed very hard, and made him suffer. + +On the day after his visit to Maslennikoff, he again went to the +prison to see her. + +The inspector allowed him to speak to her, only not in the +advocate's room nor in the office, but in the women's +visiting-room. In spite of his kindness, the inspector was more +reserved with Nekhludoff than hitherto. + +An order for greater caution had apparently been sent, as a +result of his conversation with Meslennikoff. + +"You may see her," the inspector said; "but please remember what +I said as regards money. And as to her removal to the hospital, +that his excellency wrote to me about, it can be done; the doctor +would agree. Only she herself does not wish it. She says, 'Much +need have I to carry out the slops for the scurvy beggars.' You +don't know what these people are, Prince," he added. + +Nekhludoff did not reply, but asked to have the interview. The +inspector called a jailer, whom Nekhludoff followed into the +women's visiting-room, where there was no one but Maslova +waiting. She came from behind the grating, quiet and timid, close +up to him, and said, without looking at him: + +"Forgive me, Dmitri Ivanovitch, I spoke hastily the day before +yesterday." + +"It is not for me to forgive you," Nekhludoff began. + +"But all the same, you must leave me," she interrupted, and in +the terribly squinting eyes with which she looked at him +Nekhludoff read the former strained, angry expression. + +"Why should I leave you?" + +"So." + +"But why so?" + +She again looked up, as it seemed to him, with the same angry +look. + +"Well, then, thus it is," she said. "You must leave me. It is +true what I am saying. I cannot. You just give it up altogether." +Her lips trembled and she was silent for a moment. "It is true. +I'd rather hang myself." + +Nekhludoff felt that in this refusal there was hatred and +unforgiving resentment, but there was also something besides, +something good. This confirmation of the refusal in cold blood at +once quenched all the doubts in Nekhludoff's bosom, and brought +back the serious, triumphant emotion he had felt in relation to +Katusha. + +"Katusha, what I have said I will again repeat," he uttered, very +seriously. "I ask you to marry me. If you do not wish it, and for +as long as you do not wish it, I shall only continue to follow +you, and shall go where you are taken." + +"That is your business. I shall not say anything more," she +answered, and her lips began to tremble again. + +He, too, was silent, feeling unable to speak. + +"I shall now go to the country, and then to Petersburg," he said, +when he was quieter again. "I shall do my utmost to get your--- +our case, I mean, reconsidered, and by the help of God the +sentence may be revoked." + +"And if it is not revoked, never mind. I have deserved it, if not +in this case, in other ways," she said, and he saw how difficult +it was for her to keep down her tears. + +"Well, have you seen Menshoff?" she suddenly asked, to hide her +emotion. "It's true they are innocent, isn't it?" + +"Yes, I think so." + +"Such a splendid old woman," she said. + +There was another pause. + +"Well, and as to the hospital?" she suddenly said, and looking at +him with her squinting eyes. "If you like, I will go, and I shall +not drink any spirits, either." + +Nekhludoff looked into her eyes. They were smiling. + +"Yes, yes, she is quite a different being," Nekhludoff thought. +After all his former doubts, he now felt something he had never +before experienced--the certainty that love is invincible. + +When Maslova returned to her noisome cell after this interview, +she took off her cloak and sat down in her place on the shelf +bedstead with her hands folded on her lap. In the cell were only +the consumptive woman, the Vladimir woman with her baby, +Menshoff's old mother, and the watchman's wife. The deacon's +daughter had the day before been declared mentally diseased and +removed to the hospital. The rest of the women were away, washing +clothes. The old woman was asleep, the cell door stood open, and +the watchman's children were in the corridor outside. The +Vladimir woman, with her baby in her arms, and the watchman's +wife, with the stocking she was knitting with deft fingers, came +up to Maslova. "Well, have you had a chat?" they asked. Maslova +sat silent on the high bedstead, swinging her legs, which did not +reach to the floor. + +"What's the good of snivelling?" said the watchman's wife. "The +chief thing's not to go down into the dumps. Eh, Katusha? Now, +then!" and she went on, quickly moving her fingers. + +Maslova did not answer. + +"And our women have all gone to wash," said the Vladimir woman. +"I heard them say much has been given in alms to-day. Quite a lot +has been brought." + +"Finashka," called out the watchman's wife, "where's the little +imp gone to?" + +She took a knitting needle, stuck it through both the ball and +the stocking, and went out into the corridor. + +At this moment the sound of women's voices was heard from the +corridor, and the inmates of the cell entered, with their prison +shoes, but no stockings on their feet. Each was carrying a roll, +some even two. Theodosia came at once up to Maslova. + +"What's the matter; is anything wrong?" Theodosia asked, looking +lovingly at Maslova with her clear, blue eyes. "This is for our +tea," and she put the rolls on a shelf. + +"Why, surely he has not changed his mind about marrying?" asked +Korableva. + +"No, he has not, but I don't wish to," said Maslova, "and so I +told him." + +"More fool you!" muttered Korableva in her deep tones. + +"If one's not to live together, what's the use of marrying?" said +Theodosia. + +"There's your husband--he's going with you," said the watchman's +wife. + +"Well, of course, we're married," said Theodosia. "But why should +he go through the ceremony if he is not to live with her?" + +"Why, indeed! Don't be a fool! You know if he marries her she'll +roll in wealth," said Korableva. + +"He says, 'Wherever they take you, I'll follow,'" said Maslova. +"If he does, it's well; if he does not, well also. I am not going +to ask him to. Now he is going to try and arrange the matter in +Petersburg. He is related to all the Ministers there. But, all +the same, I have no need of him," she continued. + +"Of course not," suddenly agreed Korableva, evidently thinking +about something else as she sat examining her bag. "Well, shall +we have a drop?" + +"You have some," replied Maslova. "I won't." + +END OF BOOK I. + + + + +BOOK II. + + + +CHAPTER I. + +PROPERTY IN LAND. + +It was possible for Maslova's case to come before the Senate in a +fortnight, at which time Nekhludoff meant to go to Petersburg, +and, if need be, to appeal to the Emperor (as the advocate who +had drawn up the petition advised) should the appeal be +disregarded (and, according to the advocate, it was best to be +prepared for that, since the causes for appeal were so slight). +The party of convicts, among whom was Maslova, would very likely +leave in the beginning of June. In order to be able to follow her +to Siberia, as Nekhludoff was firmly resolved to do, he was now +obliged to visit his estates, and settle matters there. +Nekhludoff first went to the nearest, Kousminski, a large estate +that lay in the black earth district, and from which he derived +the greatest part of his income. + +He had lived on that estate in his childhood and youth, and had +been there twice since, and once, at his mother's request, he had +taken a German steward there, and had with him verified the +accounts. The state of things there and the peasants' relations +to the management, i.e., the landlord, had therefore been long +known to him. The relations of the peasants to the administration +were those of utter dependence on that management. Nekhludoff +knew all this when still a university student, he had confessed +and preached Henry Georgeism, and, on the basis of that teaching, +had given the land inherited from his father to the peasants. It +is true that after entering the army, when he got into the habit +of spending 20,000 roubles a year, those former occupations +ceased to be regarded as a duty, and were forgotten, and he not +only left off asking himself where the money his mother allowed +him came from, but even avoided thinking about it. But his +mother's death, the coming into the property, and the necessity +of managing it, again raised the question as to what his position +in reference to private property in land was. A month before +Nekhludoff would have answered that he had not the strength to +alter the existing order of things; that it was not he who was +administering the estate; and would one way or another have eased +his conscience, continuing to live far from his estates, and +having the money sent him. But now he decided that he could not +leave things to go on as they were, but would have to alter them +in a way unprofitable to himself, even though he had all these +complicated and difficult relations with the prison world which +made money necessary, as well as a probable journey to Siberia +before him. Therefore he decided not to farm the land, but to let +it to the peasants at a low rent, to enable them to cultivate it +without depending on a landlord. More than once, when comparing +the position of a landowner with that of an owner of serfs, +Nekhludoff had compared the renting of land to the peasants +instead of cultivating it with hired labour, to the old system by +which serf proprietors used to exact a money payment from their +serfs in place of labour. It was not a solution of the problem, +and yet a step towards the solution; it was a movement towards a +less rude form of slavery. And it was in this way he meant to +act. + +Nekhludoff reached Kousminski about noon. Trying to simplify his +life in every way, he did not telegraph, but hired a cart and +pair at the station. The driver was a young fellow in a nankeen +coat, with a belt below his long waist. He was glad to talk to +the gentleman, especially because while they were talking his +broken-winded white horse and the emaciated spavined one could go +at a foot-pace, which they always liked to do. + +The driver spoke about the steward at Kousminski without knowing +that he was driving "the master." Nekhludoff had purposely not +told him who he was. + +"That ostentatious German," said the driver (who had been to town +and read novels) as he sat sideways on the box, passing his hand +from the top to the bottom of his long whip, and trying to show +off his accomplishments--"that ostentatious German has procured +three light bays, and when he drives out with his lady---oh, my! +At Christmas he had a Christmas-tree in the big house. I drove +some of the visitors there. It had 'lectric lights; you could +not see the like of it in the whole of the government. What's it +to him, he has cribbed a heap of money. I heard say he has bought +an estate." + +Nekhludoff had imagined that he was quite indifferent to the way +the steward managed his estate, and what advantages the steward +derived from it. The words of the long-waisted driver, however, +were not pleasant to hear. + +A dark cloud now and then covered the sun; the larks were soaring +above the fields of winter corn; the forests were already covered +with fresh young green; the meadows speckled with grazing cattle +and horses. The fields were being ploughed, and Nekhludoff +enjoyed the lovely day. But every now and then he had an +unpleasant feeling, and, when he asked himself what it was caused +by, he remembered what the driver had told him about the way the +German was managing Kousminski. When he got to his estate and set +to work this unpleasant feeling vanished. + +Looking over the books in the office, and a talk with the +foreman, who naively pointed out the advantages to be derived +from the facts that the peasants had very little land of their +own and that it lay in the midst of the landlord's fields, made +Nekhludoff more than ever determined to leave off farming and to +let his land to the peasants. + +From the office books and his talk with the foreman, Nekhludoff +found that two-thirds of the best of the cultivated land was +still being tilled with improved machinery by labourers receiving +fixed wages, while the other third was tilled by the peasants at +the rate of five roubles per desiatin [about two and +three-quarter acres]. So that the peasants had to plough each +desiatin three times, harrow it three times, sow and mow the +corn, make it into sheaves, and deliver it on the threshing +ground for five roubles, while the same amount of work done by +wage labour came to at least 10 roubles. Everything the peasants +got from the office they paid for in labour at a very high price. +They paid in labour for the use of the meadows, for wood, for +potato-stalks, and were nearly all of them in debt to the office. +Thus, for the land that lay beyond the cultivated fields, which +the peasants hired, four times the price that its value would +bring in if invested at five per cent was taken from the +peasants. + +Nekhludoff had known all this before, but he now saw it in a new +light, and wondered how he and others in his position could help +seeing how abnormal such conditions are. The steward's arguments +that if the land were let to the peasants the agricultural +implements would fetch next to nothing, as it would be impossible +to get even a quarter of their value for them, and that the +peasants would spoil the land, and how great a loser Nekhludoff +would be, only strengthened Nekhludoff in the opinion that he was +doing a good action in letting the land to the peasants and thus +depriving himself of a large part of his income. He decided to +settle this business now, at once, while he was there. The +reaping and selling of the corn he left for the steward to manage +in due season, and also the selling of the agricultural +implements and useless buildings. But he asked his steward to +call the peasants of the three neighbouring villages that lay in +the midst of his estate (Kousminski) to a meeting, at which he +would tell them of his intentions and arrange about the price at +which they were to rent the land. + +With the pleasant sense of the firmness he had shown in the face +of the steward's arguments, and his readiness to make a +sacrifice, Nekhludoff left the office, thinking over the business +before him, and strolled round the house, through the neglected +flower-garden--this year the flowers were planted in front of the +steward's house--over the tennis ground, now overgrown with +dandelions, and along the lime-tree walk, where he used to smoke +his cigar, and where he had flirted with the pretty Kirimova, his +mother's visitor. Having briefly prepared in his mind the speech +he was going to make to the peasants, he again went in to the +steward, and, after tea, having once more arranged his thoughts, +he went into the room prepared for him in the big house, which +used to be a spare bedroom. + +In this clean little room, with pictures of Venice on the walls, +and a mirror between the two windows, there stood a clean bed +with a spring mattress, and by the side of it a small table, with +a decanter of water, matches, and an extinguisher. On a table by +the looking-glass lay his open portmanteau, with his +dressing-case and some books in it; a Russian book, The +Investigation of the Laws of Criminality, and a German and an +English book on the same subject, which he meant to read while +travelling in the country. But it was too late to begin to-day, +and he began preparing to go to bed. + +An old-fashioned inlaid mahogany arm-chair stood in the corner of +the room, and this chair, which Nekhludoff remembered standing in +his mother's bedroom, suddenly raised a perfectly unexpected +sensation in his soul. He was suddenly filled with regret at the +thought of the house that would tumble to ruin, and the garden +that would run wild, and the forest that would be cut down, and +all these farmyards, stables, sheds, machines, horses, cows which +he knew had cost so much effort, though not to himself, to +acquire and to keep. It had seemed easy to give up all this, but +now it was hard, not only to give this, but even to let the land +and lose half his income. And at once a consideration, which +proved that it was unreasonable to let the land to the peasants, +and thus to destroy his property, came to his service. "I must +not hold property in land. If I possess no property in land, I +cannot keep up the house and farm. And, besides, I am going to +Siberia, and shall not need either the house or the estate," said +one voice. "All this is so," said another voice, "but you are not +going to spend all your life in Siberia. You may marry, and have +children, and must hand the estate on to them in as good a +condition as you received it. There is a duty to the land, too. +To give up, to destroy everything is very easy; to acquire it +very difficult. Above all, you must consider your future life, +and what you will do with yourself, and you must dispose of your +property accordingly. And are you really firm in your resolve? +And then, are you really acting according to your conscience, or +are you acting in order to be admired of men?" Nekhludoff asked +himself all this, and had to acknowledge that he was influenced +by the thought of what people would say about him. And the more +he thought about it the more questions arose, and the more +unsolvable they seemed. + +In hopes of ridding himself of these thoughts by falling asleep, +and solving them in the morning when his head would be fresh, he +lay down on his clean bed. But it was long before he could sleep. +Together with the fresh air and the moonlight, the croaking of +the frogs entered the room, mingling with the trills of a couple +of nightingales in the park and one close to the window in a bush +of lilacs in bloom. Listening to the nightingales and the frogs, +Nekhludoff remembered the inspector's daughter, and her music, +and the inspector; that reminded him of Maslova, and how her lips +trembled, like the croaking of the frogs, when she said, "You +must just leave it." Then the German steward began going down to +the frogs, and had to be held back, but he not only went down but +turned into Maslova, who began reproaching Nekhludoff, saying, +"You are a prince, and I am a convict." "No, I must not give in," +thought Nekhludoff, waking up, and again asking himself, "Is what +I am doing right? I do not know, and no matter, no matter, I must +only fall asleep now." And he began himself to descend where he +had seen the inspector and Maslova climbing down to, and there it +all ended. + + + +CHAPTER II. + +EFFORTS AT LAND RESTORATION. + +The next day Nekhludoff awoke at nine o'clock. The young office +clerk who attended on "the master" brought him his boots, shining +as they had never shone before, and some cold, beautifully clear +spring water, and informed him that the peasants were already +assembling. + +Nekhludoff jumped out of bed, and collected his thoughts. Not a +trace of yesterday's regret at giving up and thus destroying his +property remained now. He remembered this feeling of regret with +surprise; he was now looking forward with joy to the task before +him, and could not help being proud of it. He could see from the +window the old tennis ground, overgrown with dandelions, on which +the peasants were beginning to assemble. The frogs had not +croaked in vain the night before; the day was dull. There was no +wind; a soft warm rain had begun falling in the morning, and hung +in drops on leaves, twigs, and grass. Besides the smell of the +fresh vegetation, the smell of damp earth, asking for more rain, +entered in at the window. While dressing, Nekhludoff several +times looked out at the peasants gathered on the tennis ground. +One by one they came, took off their hats or caps to one another, +and took their places in a circle, leaning on their sticks. The +steward, a stout, muscular, strong young man, dressed in a short +pea-jacket, with a green stand-up collar, and enormous buttons, +came to say that all had assembled, but that they might wait +until Nekhludoff had finished his breakfast--tea and coffee, +whichever he pleased; both were ready. + +"No, I think I had better go and see them at once," said +Nekhludoff, with an unexpected feeling of shyness and shame at +the thought of the conversation he was going to have with the +peasants. He was going to fulfil a wish of the peasants, the +fulfilment of which they did not even dare to hope for--to let +the land to them at a low price, i.e., to confer a great boon; +and yet he felt ashamed of something. When Nekhludoff came up to +the peasants, and the fair, the curly, the bald, the grey heads +were bared before him, he felt so confused that he could say +nothing. The rain continued to come down in small drops, that +remained on the hair, the beards, and the fluff of the men's +rough coats. The peasants looked at "the master," waiting for him +to speak, and he was so abashed that he could not speak. This +confused silence was broken by the sedate, self-assured German +steward, who considered himself a good judge of the Russian +peasant, and who spoke Russian remarkably well. This strong, +over-fed man, and Nekhludoff himself, presented a striking +contrast to the peasants, with their thin, wrinkled faces and the +shoulder blades protruding beneath their coarse coats. + +"Here's the Prince wanting to do you a favor, and to let the land +to you; only you are not worthy of it," said the steward. + +"How are we not worthy of it, Vasili Karlovitch? Don't we work +for you? We were well satisfied with the deceased lady--God have +mercy on her soul--and the young Prince will not desert us now. +Our thanks to him," said a redhaired, talkative peasant. + +"Yes, that's why I have called you together. I should like to let +you have all the land, if you wish it." + +The peasants said nothing, as if they did not understand or did +not believe it. + +"Let's see. Let us have the land? What do you mean?" asked a +middle-aged man. + +"To let it to you, that you might have the use of it, at a low +rent." + +"A very agreeable thing," said an old man. + +"If only the pay is such as we can afford," said another. + +"There's no reason why we should not rent the land." + +"We are accustomed to live by tilling the ground." + +"And it's quieter for you, too, that way. You'll have to do +nothing but receive the rent. Only think of all the sin and worry +now!" several voices were heard saying. + +"The sin is all on your side," the German remarked. "If only you +did your work, and were orderly." + +"That's impossible for the likes of us," said a sharp-nosed old +man. "You say, 'Why do you let the horse get into the corn?' just +as if I let it in. Why, I was swinging my scythe, or something of +the kind, the livelong day, till the day seemed as long as a +year, and so I fell asleep while watching the herd of horses at +night, and it got into your oats, and now you're skinning me." + +"And you should keep order." + +"It's easy for you to talk about order, but it's more than our +strength will bear," answered a tall, dark, hairy middleaged man. + +"Didn't I tell you to put up a fence?" + +"You give us the wood to make it of," said a short, plain- +looking peasant. "I was going to put up a fence last year, and +you put me to feed vermin in prison for three months. That was +the end of that fence." + +"What is it he is saying?" asked Nekhludoff, turning to the +steward. + +"Der ersto Dieb im Dorfe," [The greatest thief in the village] +answered the steward in German. "He is caught stealing wood from +the forest every year." Then turning to the peasant, he added, +"You must learn to respect other people's property." + +"Why, don't we respect you?" said an old man. "We are obliged to +respect you. Why, you could twist us into a rope; we are in your +hands." + +"Eh, my friend, it's impossible to do you. It's you who are ever +ready to do us," said the steward. + +"Do you, indeed. Didn't you smash my jaw for me, and I got +nothing for it? No good going to law with the rich, it seems." + +"You should keep to the law." + +A tournament of words was apparently going on without those who +took part in it knowing exactly what it was all about; but it was +noticeable that there was bitterness on one side, restricted by +fear, and on the other a consciousness of importance and power. +It was very trying to Nekhludoff to listen to all this, so he +returned to the question of arranging the amount and the terms +of the rent. + +"Well, then, how about the land? Do you wish to take it, and what +price will you pay if I let you have the whole of it?" + +"The property is yours: it is for you to fix the price." + +Nekhludoff named the price. Though it was far below that paid in +the neighbourhood, the peasants declared it too high, and began +bargaining, as is customary among them. Nekhludoff thought his +offer would be accepted with pleasure, but no signs of pleasure +were visible. + +One thing only showed Nekhludoff that his offer was a profitable +one to the peasants. The question as to who would rent the land, +the whole commune or a special society, was put, and a violent +dispute arose among those peasants who were in favour of +excluding the weak and those not likely to pay the rent +regularly, and the peasants who would have to be excluded on that +score. At last, thanks to the steward, the amount and the terms +of the rent were fixed, and the peasants went down the hill +towards their villages, talking noisily, while Nekhludoff and the +steward went into the office to make up the agreement. Everything +was settled in the way Nekhludoff wished and expected it to be. +The peasants had their land 30 per cent. cheaper than they could +have got it anywhere in the district, the revenue from the land +was diminished by half, but was more than sufficient for +Nekhludoff, especially as there would be money coming in for a +forest he sold, as well as for the agricultural implements, which +would be sold, too. Everything seemed excellently arranged, yet +he felt ashamed of something. He could see that the peasants, +though they spoke words of thanks, were not satisfied, and had +expected something greater. So it turned out that he had deprived +himself of a great deal, and yet not done what the peasants had +expected. + +The next day the agreement was signed, and accompanied by several +old peasants, who had been chosen as deputies, Nekhludoff went +out, got into the steward's elegant equipage (as the driver from +the station had called it), said "good-bye" to the peasants, who +stood shaking their heads in a dissatisfied and disappointed +manner, and drove off to the station. Nekhludoff was dissatisfied +with himself without knowing why, but all the time he felt sad +and ashamed of something. + + + +CHAPTER III. + +OLD ASSOCIATIONS. + +From Kousminski Nekhludoff went to the estate he had inherited +from his aunts, the same where he first met Katusha. He meant to +arrange about the land there in the way he had done in +Kousminski. Besides this, he wished to find out all he could +about Katusha and her baby, and when and how it had died. He got +to Panovo early one morning, and the first thing that struck him +when he drove up was the look of decay and dilapidation that all +the buildings bore, especially the house itself. The iron roofs, +which had once been painted green, looked red with rust, and a +few sheets of iron were bent back, probably by a storm. Some of +the planks which covered the house from outside were torn away in +several places; these were easier to get by breaking the rusty +nails that held them. Both porches, but especially the side porch +he remembered so well, were rotten and broken; only the banister +remained. Some of the windows were boarded up, and the building +in which the foreman lived, the kitchen, the stables--all were +grey and decaying. Only the garden had not decayed, but had +grown, and was in full bloom; from over the fence the cherry, +apple, and plum trees looked like white clouds. The lilac bushes +that formed the hedge were in full bloom, as they had been when, +14 years ago, Nekhludoff had played gorelki with the 15-year-old +Katusha, and had fallen and got his hand stung by the nettles +behind one of those lilac bushes. The larch that his aunt Sophia +had planted near the house, which then was only a short stick, +had grown into a tree, the trunk of which would have made a beam, +and its branches were covered with soft yellow green needles as +with down. The river, now within its banks, rushed noisily over +the mill dam. The meadow the other side of the river was dotted +over by the peasants' mixed herds. The foreman, a student, who +had left the seminary without finishing the course, met +Nekhludoff in the yard, with a smile on his face, and, still +smiling, asked him to come into the office, and, as if promising +something exceptionally good by this smile, he went behind a +partition. For a moment some whispering was heard behind the +partition. The isvostchik who had driven Nekhludoff from the +station, drove away after receiving a tip, and all was silent. +Then a barefooted girl passed the window; she had on an +embroidered peasant blouse, and long earrings in her ears; then a +man walked past, clattering with his nailed boots on the trodden +path. + +Nekhludoff sat down by the little casement, and looked out into +the garden and listened. A soft, fresh spring breeze, smelling of +newly-dug earth, streamed in through the window, playing with the +hair on his damp forehead and the papers that lay on the +window-sill, which was all cut about with a knife. + +"Tra-pa-trop, tra-pa-trop," comes a sound from the river, as the +women who were washing clothes there slapped them in regular +measure with their wooden bats, and the sound spread over the +glittering surface of the mill pond while the rhythmical sound of +the falling water came from the mill, and a frightened fly +suddenly flew loudly buzzing past his ear. + +And all at once Nekhludoff remembered how, long ago, when he was +young and innocent, he had heard the women's wooden bats slapping +the wet clothes above the rhythmical sound from the mill, and in +the same way the spring breeze had blown about the hair on his +wet forehead and the papers on the window-sill, which was all cut +about with a knife, and just in the same way a fly had buzzed +loudly past his car. + +It was not exactly that he remembered himself as a lad of 15, but +he seemed to feel himself the same as he was then, with the same +freshness and purity, and full of the same grand possibilities +for the future, and at the same time, as it happens in a dream, +he knew that all this could be no more, and he felt terribly sad. +"At what time would you like something to eat?" asked the +foreman, with a smile. + +"When you like; I am not hungry. I shall go for a walk through +the village." + +"Would you not like to come into the house? Everything is in +order there. Have the goodness to look in. If the outside---" + +"Not now; later on. Tell me, please, have you got a woman here +called Matrona Kharina?" (This was Katusha's aunt, the village +midwife.) + +"Oh, yes; in the village she keeps a secret pot-house. I know she +does, and I accuse her of it and scold her; but as to taking her +up, it would be a pity. An old woman, you know; she has +grandchildren," said the foreman, continuing to smile in the same +manner, partly wishing to be pleasant to the master, and partly +because he was convinced that Nekhludoff understood all these +matters just as well as he did himself. + +"Where does she live? I shall go across and see her." + +"At the end of the village; the further side, the third from the +end. To the left there is a brick cottage, and her hut is beyond +that. But I'd better see you there," the foreman said with a +graceful smile. + +"No, thanks, I shall find it; and you be so good as to call a +meeting of the peasants, and tell them that I want to speak to +them about the land," said Nekhludoff, with the intention of +coming to the same agreement with the peasants here as he had +done in Kousminski, and, if possible, that same evening. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE PEASANTS' LOT. + +When Nekhludoff came out of the gate he met the girl with the +long earrings on the well-trodden path that lay across the +pasture ground, overgrown with dock and plantain leaves. She had +a long, brightly-coloured apron on, and was quickly swinging her +left arm in front of herself as she stepped briskly with her fat, +bare feet. With her right arm she was pressing a fowl to her +stomach. The fowl, with red comb shaking, seemed perfectly calm; +he only rolled up his eyes and stretched out and drew in one +black leg, clawing the girl's apron. When the girl came nearer to +"the master," she began moving more slowly, and her run changed +into a walk. When she came up to him she stopped, and, after a +backward jerk with her head, bowed to him; and only when he had +passed did she recommence to run homeward with the cock. As he +went down towards the well, he met an old woman, who had a coarse +dirty blouse on, carrying two pails full of water, that hung on a +yoke across her bent back. The old woman carefully put down the +pails and bowed, with the same backward jerk of her head. + +After passing the well Nekhludoff entered the village. It was a +bright, hot day, and oppressive, though only ten o'clock. At +intervals the sun was hidden by the gathering clouds. An +unpleasant, sharp smell of manure filled the air in the street. +It came from carts going up the hillside, but chiefly from the +disturbed manure heaps in the yards of the huts, by the open +gates of which Nekhludoff had to pass. The peasants, barefooted, +their shirts and trousers soiled with manure, turned to look at +the tall, stout gentleman with the glossy silk ribbon on his grey +hat who was walking up the village street, touching the ground +every other step with a shiny, bright-knobbed walking-stick. The +peasants returning from the fields at a trot and jotting in their +empty carts, took off their hats, and, in their surprise, +followed with their eyes the extraordinary man who was walking up +their street. The women came out of the gates or stood in the +porches of their huts, pointing him out to each other and gazing +at him as he passed. + +When Nekhludoff was passing the fourth gate, he was stopped by a +cart that was coming out, its wheels creaking, loaded high with +manure, which was pressed down, and was covered with a mat to sit +on. A six-year-old boy, excited by the prospect of a drive, +followed the cart. A young peasant, with shoes plaited out of +bark on his feet, led the horse out of the yard. A long-legged +colt jumped out of the gate; but, seeing Nekhludoff, pressed +close to the cart, and scraping its legs against the wheels, +jumped forward, past its excited, gently-neighing mother, as she +was dragging the heavy load through the gateway. The next horse +was led out by a barefooted old man, with protruding +shoulder-blades, in a dirty shirt and striped trousers. + +When the horses got out on to the hard road, strewn over with +bits of dry, grey manure, the old man returned to the gate, and +bowed to Nekhludoff. + +"You are our ladies' nephew, aren't you?" + +"Yes, I am their nephew." + +"You've kindly come to look us up, eh?" said the garrulous old +man. + +"Yes, I have. Well, how are you getting on?" + +"How do we get on? We get on very badly," the old man drawled, as +if it gave him pleasure. + +"Why so badly?" Nekhludoff asked, stepping inside the gate. + +"What is our life but the very worst life?" said the old man, +following Nekhludoff into that part of the yard which was roofed +over. + +Nekhludoff stopped under the roof. + +"I have got 12 of them there," continued the old man, pointing to +two women on the remainder of the manure heap, who stood +perspiring with forks in their hands, the kerchiefs tumbling off +their heads, with their skirts tucked up, showing the calves of +their dirty, bare legs. "Not a month passes but I have to buy six +poods [a pood is 36 English pounds] of corn, and where's the money to +come from?" + +"Have you not got enough corn of your own?" + +"My own?" repeated the old man, with a smile of contempt; "why I +have only got land for three, and last year we had not enough to +last till Christmas." + +"What do you do then?" + +"What do we do? Why, I hire out as a labourer; and then I +borrowed some money from your honour. We spent it all before +Lent, and the tax is not paid yet." + +"And how much is the tax?" + +"Why, it's 17 roubles for my household. Oh, Lord, such a life! +One hardly knows one's self how one manages to live it." + +"May I go into your hut?" asked Nekhludoff, stepping across the +yard over the yellow-brown layers of manure that had been raked +up by the forks, and were giving off a strong smell. + +"Why not? Come in," said the old man, and stepping quickly with +his bare feet over the manure, the liquid oozing between his +toes, he passed Nekhludoff and opened the door of the hut. + +The women arranged the kerchiefs on their heads and let down +their skirts, and stood looking with surprise at the clean +gentleman with gold studs to his sleeves who was entering their +house. Two little girls, with nothing on but coarse chemises, +rushed out of the hut. Nekhludoff took off his hat, and, stooping +to get through the low door, entered, through a passage into the +dirty, narrow hut, that smelt of sour food, and where much space +was taken up by two weaving looms. In the hut an old woman was +standing by the stove, with the sleeves rolled up over her thin, +sinewy brown arms. + +"Here is our master come to see us," said the old man. + +"I'm sure he's very welcome," said the old woman, kindly. + +"I would like to see how you live." + +"Well, you see how we live. The hut is coming down, and might +kill one any day; but my old man he says it's good enough, and so +we live like kings," said the brisk old woman, nervously jerking +her head. "I'm getting the dinner; going to feed the workers." + +"And what are you going to have for dinner?" + +"Our food is very good. First course, bread and kvas; [kvas is a +kind of sour, non-intoxicant beer made of rye] second course, +kvas and bread," said the old woman, showing her teeth, which +were half worn away. + +"No," seriously; "let me see what you are going to eat." + +"To eat?" said the old man, laughing. "Ours is not a very cunning +meal. You just show him, wife." + +"Want to see our peasant food? Well, you are an inquisitive +gentleman, now I come to look at you. He wants to know +everything. Did I not tell you bread and kvas and then we'll have +soup. A woman brought us some fish, and that's what the soup is +made of, and after that, potatoes." + +"Nothing more?" + +"What more do you want? We'll also have a little milk," said the +old woman, looking towards the door. The door stood open, and the +passage outside was full of people--boys, girls, women with +babies--thronged together to look at the strange gentleman who +wanted to see the peasants' food. The old woman seemed to pride +herself on the way she behaved with a gentleman. + +"Yes, it's a miserable life, ours; that goes without saying, +sir," said the old man. "What are you doing there?" he shouted to +those in the passage. "Well, good-bye," said Nekhludoff, feeling +ashamed and uneasy, though unable to account for the feeling. + +"Thank you kindly for having looked us up," said the old man. + +The people in the passage pressed closer together to let +Nekhludoff pass, and he went out and continued his way up the +street. + +Two barefooted boys followed him out of the passage the elder in +a shirt that had once been white, the other in a worn and faded +pink one. Nekhludoff looked back at them. + +"And where are you going now?" asked the boy with the white +shirt. Nekhludoff answered: "To Matrona Kharina. Do you know +her?" The boy with the pink shirt began laughing at something; +but the elder asked, seriously: + +"What Matrona is that? Is she old?" + +"Yes, she is old." + +"Oh--oh," he drawled; "that one; she's at the other end of the +village; we'll show you. Yes, Fedka, we'll go with him. Shall +we?" + +"Yes, but the horses?" + +"They'll be all right, I dare say." + +Fedka agreed, and all three went up the street. + + + +CHAPTER V. + +MASLOVA'S AUNT. + +Nekhludoff felt more at ease with the boys than with the grown-up +people, and he began talking to them as they went along. The +little one with the pink shirt stopped laughing, and spoke as +sensibly and as exactly as the elder one. + +"Can you tell me who are the poorest people you have got here?" +asked Nekhludoff. + +"The poorest? Michael is poor, Simon Makhroff, and Martha, she is +very poor." + +"And Anisia, she is still poorer; she's not even got a cow. They +go begging," said little Fedka. + +"She's not got a cow, but they are only three persons, and +Martha's family are five," objected the elder boy. + +"But the other's a widow," the pink boy said, standing up for +Anisia. + +"You say Anisia is a widow, and Martha is no better than a +widow," said the elder boy; "she's also no husband." + +"And where is her husband?" Nekhludoff asked. + +"Feeding vermin in prison," said the elder boy, using this +expression, common among the peasants. + +"A year ago he cut down two birch trees in the land-lord's +forest," the little pink boy hurried to say, "so he was locked +up; now he's sitting the sixth month there, and the wife goes +begging. There are three children and a sick grandmother," he +went on with his detailed account. + +"And where does she live?" Nekhludoff asked. + +"In this very house," answered the boy, pointing to a hut, in +front of which, on the footpath along which Nekhludoff was +walking, a tiny, flaxen-headed infant stood balancing himself +with difficulty on his rickety legs. + +"Vaska! Where's the little scamp got to?" shouted a woman, with a +dirty grey blouse, and a frightened look, as she ran out of the +house, and, rushing forward, seized the baby before Nekhludoff +came up to it, and carried it in, just as if she were afraid that +Nekhludoff would hurt her child. + +This was the woman whose husband was imprisoned for Nekhludoff's +birch trees. + +"Well, and this Matrona, is she also poor?" Nekhludoff asked, as +they came up to Matrona's house. + +"She poor? No. Why, she sells spirits," the thin, pink little boy +answered decidedly. + +When they reached the house Nekhludoff left the boys outside and +went through the passage into the hut. The hut was 14 feet long. +The bed that stood behind the big stove was not long enough for a +tall person to stretch out on. "And on this very bed," Nekhludoff +thought, "Katusha bore her baby and lay ill afterwards." The +greater part of the hut was taken up by a loom, on which the old +woman and her eldest granddaughter were arranging the warp when +Nekhludoff came in, striking his forehead against the low +doorway. Two other grandchildren came rushing in after +Nekhludoff, and stopped, holding on to the lintels of the door. + +"Whom do you want?" asked the old woman, crossly. She was in a +bad temper because she could not manage to get the warp right, +and, besides, carrying on an illicit trade in spirits, she was +always afraid when any stranger came in. + +"I am--the owner of the neighbouring estates, and should like to +speak to you." + +"Dear me; why, it's you, my honey; and I, fool, thought it was +just some passer-by. Dear me, you--it's you, my precious," said +the old woman, with simulated tenderness in her voice. + +"I should like to speak to you alone," said Nekhludoff, with a +glance towards the door, where the children were standing, and +behind them a woman holding a wasted, pale baby, with a sickly +smile on its face, who had a little cap made of different bits of +stuff on its head. + +"What are you staring at? I'll give it you. Just hand me my +crutch," the old woman shouted to those at the door. + +"Shut the door, will you!" The children went away, and the woman +closed the door. + +"And I was thinking, who's that? And it's 'the master' himself. +My jewel, my treasure. Just think," said the old woman, "where he +has deigned to come. Sit down here, your honour," she said, +wiping the seat with her apron. "And I was thinking what devil is +it coming in, and it's your honour, 'the master' himself, the +good gentleman, our benefactor. Forgive me, old fool that I am; +I'm getting blind." + +Nekhludoff sat down, and the old woman stood in front of him, +leaning her cheek on her right hand, while the left held up the +sharp elbow of her right arm. + +"Dear me, you have grown old, your honour; and you used to be as +fresh as a daisy. And now! Cares also, I expect?" + +"This is what I have come about: Do you remember Katusha +Maslova?" + +"Katerina? I should think so. Why, she is my niece. How could I +help remembering; and the tears I have shed because of her. Why, +I know all about it. Eh, sir, who has not sinned before God? who +has not offended against the Tsar? We know what youth is. You +used to be drinking tea and coffee, so the devil got hold of you. +He is strong at times. What's to be done? Now, if you had chucked +her; but no, just see how you rewarded her, gave her a hundred +roubles. And she? What has she done? Had she but listened to me +she might have lived all right. I must say the truth, though she +is my niece: that girl's no good. What a good place I found her! +She would not submit, but abused her master. Is it for the likes +of us to scold gentlefolk? Well, she was sent away. And then at +the forester's. She might have lived there; but no, she would +not." + +"I want to know about the child. She was confined at your house, +was she not? Where's the child?" + +"As to the child, I considered that well at the time. She was so +bad I never thought she would get up again. Well, so I christened +the baby quite properly, and we sent it to the Foundlings'. Why +should one let an innocent soul languish when the mother is +dying? Others do like this: they just leave the baby, don't feed +it, and it wastes away. But, thinks I, no; I'd rather take some +trouble, and send it to the Foundlings'. There was money enough, +so I sent it off." + +"Did you not get its registration number from the Foundlings' +Hospital?" + +"Yes, there was a number, but the baby died," she said. "It died +as soon as she brought it there." + +"Who is she?" + +"That same woman who used to live in Skorodno. She made a +business of it. Her name was Malania. She's dead now. She was a +wise woman. What do you think she used to do? They'd bring her a +baby, and she'd keep it and feed it; and she'd feed it until she +had enough of them to take to the Foundlings'. When she had three +or four, she'd take them all at once. She had such a clever +arrangement, a sort of big cradle--a double one she could put +them in one way or the other. It had a handle. So she'd put four +of them in, feet to feet and the heads apart, so that they should +not knock against each other. And so she took four at once. She'd +put some pap in a rag into their mouths to keep 'em silent, the +pets." + +"Well, go on." + +"Well, she took Katerina's baby in the same way, after keeping it +a fortnight, I believe. It was in her house it began to sicken." + +"And was it a fine baby?" Nekhludoff asked. + +"Such a baby, that if you wanted a finer you could not find one. +Your very image," the old woman added, with a wink. + +"Why did it sicken? Was the food bad?" + +"Eh, what food? Only just a pretence of food. Naturally, when +it's not one's own child. Only enough to get it there alive. She +said she just managed to get it to Moscow, and there it died. She +brought a certificate--all in order. She was such a wise woman." + +That was all Nekhludoff could find out concerning his child. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +REFLECTIONS OF A LANDLORD. + +Again striking his head against both doors, Nekhludoff went out +into the street, where the pink and the white boys were waiting +for him. A few newcomers were standing with them. Among the +women, of whom several had babies in their arms, was the thin +woman with the baby who had the patchwork cap on its head. She +held lightly in her arms the bloodless infant, who kept strangely +smiling all over its wizened little face, and continually moving +its crooked thumbs. + +Nekhludoff knew the smile to be one of suffering. He asked who +the woman was. + +"It is that very Anisia I told you about," said the elder boy. + +Nekhludoff turned to Anisia. + +"How do you live?" he asked. "By what means do you gain your +livelihood?" + +"How do I live? I go begging," said Anisia, and began to cry. + +Nekhludoff took out his pocket-book, and gave the woman a +10-rouble note. He had not had time to take two steps before +another woman with a baby caught him up, then an old woman, then +another young one. All of them spoke of their poverty, and asked +for help. Nekhludoff gave them the 60 roubles--all in small +notes--which he had with him, and, terribly sad at heart, turned +home, i.e., to the foreman's house. + +The foreman met Nekhludoff with a smile, and informed him that +the peasants would come to the meeting in the evening. Nekhludoff +thanked him, and went straight into the garden to stroll along +the paths strewn over with the petals of apple-blossom and +overgrown with weeds, and to think over all he had seen. + +At first all was quiet, but soon Nekhludoff heard from behind the +foreman's house two angry women's voices interrupting each other, +and now and then the voice of the ever-smiling foreman. +Nekhludoff listened. + +"My strength's at an end. What are you about, dragging the very +cross [those baptized in the Russo-Greek Church always wear a +cross round their necks] off my neck," said an angry woman's +voice. + +"But she only got in for a moment," said another voice. "Give it +her back, I tell you. Why do you torment the beast, and the +children, too, who want their milk?" + +"Pay, then, or work it off," said the foreman's voice. + +Nekhludoff left the garden and entered the porch, near which +stood two dishevelled women--one of them pregnant and evidently +near her time. On one of the steps of the porch, with his hands +in the pockets of his holland coat, stood the foreman. When they +saw the master, the women were silent, and began arranging the +kerchiefs on their heads, and the foreman took his hands out of +his pockets and began to smile. + +This is what had happened. From the foreman's words, it seemed +that the peasants were in the habit of letting their calves and +even their cows into the meadow belonging to the estate. Two cows +belonging to the families of these two women were found in the +meadow, and driven into the yard. The foreman demanded from the +women 30 copecks for each cow or two days' work. The women, +however, maintained that the cows had got into the meadow of +their own accord; that they had no money, and asked that the +cows, which had stood in the blazing sun since morning without +food, piteously lowing, should be returned to them, even if it +had to be on the understanding that the price should be worked +off later on. + +"How often have I not begged of you," said the smiling foreman, +looking back at Nekhludoff as if calling upon him to be a +witness, "if you drive your cattle home at noon, that you should +have an eye on them?" + +"I only ran to my little one for a bit, and they got away." + +"Don't run away when you have undertaken to watch the cows." + +"And who's to feed the little one? You'd not give him the breast, +I suppose?" said the other woman. "Now, if they had really +damaged the meadow, one would not take it so much to heart; but +they only strayed in a moment." + +"All the meadows are damaged," the foreman said, turning to +Nekhludoff. "If I exact no penalty there will be no hay." + +"There, now, don't go sinning like that; my cows have never been +caught there before," shouted the pregnant woman. + +"Now that one has been caught, pay up or work it off." + +"All right, I'll work it off; only let me have the cow now, don't +torture her with hunger," she cried, angrily. "As it is, I have +no rest day or night. Mother-in-law is ill, husband taken to +drink; I'm all alone to do all the work, and my strength's at an +end. I wish you'd choke, you and your working it off." + +Nekhludoff asked the foreman to let the women take the cows, and +went back into the garden to go on thinking out his problem, but +there was nothing more to think about. + +Everything seemed so clear to him now that he could not stop +wondering how it was that everybody did not see it, and that he +himself had for such a long while not seen what was so clearly +evident. The people were dying out, and had got used to the +dying-out process, and had formed habits of life adapted to this +process: there was the great mortality among the children, the +over-working of the women, the under-feeding, especially of the +aged. And so gradually had the people come to this condition that +they did not realise the full horrors of it, and did not +complain. Therefore, we consider their condition natural and as +it should be. Now it seemed as clear as daylight that the chief +cause of the people's great want was one that they themselves +knew and always pointed out, i.e., that the land which alone +could feed them had been taken from them by the landlords. + +And how evident it was that the children and the aged died +because they had no milk, and they had no milk because there was +no pasture land, and no land to grow corn or make hay on. It was +quite evident that all the misery of the people or, at least by +far the greater part of it, was caused by the fact that the land +which should feed them was not in their hands, but in the hands +of those who, profiting by their rights to the land, live by the +work of these people. The land so much needed by men was tilled +by these people, who were on the verge of starvation, so that the +corn might be sold abroad and the owners of the land might buy +themselves hats and canes, and carriages and bronzes, etc. He +understood this as clearly as he understood that horses when they +have eaten all the grass in the inclosure where they are kept +will have to grow thin and starve unless they are put where they +can get food off other land. + +This was terrible, and must not go on. Means must be found to +alter it, or at least not to take part in it. "And I will find +them," he thought, as he walked up and down the path under the +birch trees. + +In scientific circles, Government institutions, and in the papers +we talk about the causes of the poverty among the people and the +means of ameliorating their condition; but we do not talk of the +only sure means which would certainly lighten their condition, +i.e., giving back to them the land they need so much. + +Henry George's fundamental position recurred vividly to his mind +and how he had once been carried away by it, and he was surprised +that he could have forgotten it. The earth cannot be any one's +property; it cannot be bought or sold any more than water, air, +or sunshine. All have an equal right to the advantages it gives +to men. And now he knew why he had felt ashamed to remember the +transaction at Kousminski. He had been deceiving himself. He knew +that no man could have a right to own land, yet he had accepted +this right as his, and had given the peasants something which, in +the depth of his heart, he knew he had no right to. Now he would +not act in this way, and would alter the arrangement in +Kousminski also. And he formed a project in his mind to let the +land to the peasants, and to acknowledge the rent they paid for +it to be their property, to be kept to pay the taxes and for +communal uses. This was, of course, not the single-tax system, +still it was as near an approach to it as could be had under +existing circumstances. His chief consideration, however, was +that in this way he would no longer profit by the possession of +landed property. + +When he returned to the house the foreman, with a specially +pleasant smile, asked him if he would not have his dinner now, +expressing the fear that the feast his wife was preparing, with +the help of the girl with the earrings, might be overdone. + +The table was covered with a coarse, unbleached cloth and an +embroidered towel was laid on it in lieu of a napkin. A +vieux-saxe soup tureen with a broken handle stood on the table, +full of potato soup, the stock made of the fowl that had put out +and drawn in his black leg, and was now cut, or rather chopped, +in pieces, which were here and there covered with hairs. After +the soup more of the same fowl with the hairs was served roasted, +and then curd pasties, very greasy, and with a great deal of +sugar. Little appetising as all this was, Nekhludoff hardly +noticed what he was eating; he was occupied with the thought +which had in a moment dispersed the sadness with which he had +returned from the village. + +The foreman's wife kept looking in at the door, whilst the +frightened maid with the earrings brought in the dishes; and the +foreman smiled more and more joyfully, priding himself on his +wife's culinary skill. After dinner, Nekhludoff succeeded, with +some trouble, in making the foreman sit down. In order to revise +his own thoughts, and to express them to some one, he explained +his project of letting the land to the peasants, and asked the +foreman for his opinion. The foreman, smiling as if he had +thought all this himself long ago, and was very pleased to hear +it, did not really understand it at all. This was not because +Nekhludoff did not express himself clearly, but because according +to this project it turned out that Nekhludoff was giving up his +own profit for the profit of others, and the thought that every +one is only concerned about his own profit, to the harm of +others, was so deeply rooted in the foreman's conceptions that he +imagined he did not understand something when Nekhludoff said +that all the income from the land must be placed to form the +communal capital of the peasants. + +"Oh, I see; then you, of course, will receive the percentages +from that capital," said the foreman, brightening up. + +"Dear me! no. Don't you see, I am giving up the land altogether." + +"But then you will not get any income," said the foreman, smiling +no longer. + +"Yes, I am going to give it up." + +The foreman sighed heavily, and then began smiling again. Now he +understood. He understood that Nekhludoff was not quite normal, +and at once began to consider how he himself could profit by +Nekhludoff's project of giving up the land, and tried to see this +project in such a way that he might reap some advantage from it. +But when he saw that this was impossible he grew sorrowful, and +the project ceased to interest him, and he continued to smile +only in order to please the master. + +Seeing that the foreman did not understand him, Nekhludoff let +him go and sat down by the window-sill, that was all cut about +and inked over, and began to put his project down on paper. + +The sun went down behind the limes, that were covered with fresh +green, and the mosquitoes swarmed in, stinging Nekhludoff. Just +as he finished his notes, he heard the lowing of cattle and the +creaking of opening gates from the village, and the voices of the +peasants gathering together for the meeting. He told the foreman +not to call the peasants up to the office, as he meant to go into +the village himself and meet the men where they would assemble. +Having hurriedly drank a cup of tea offered him by the foreman, +Nekhludoff went to the village. + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE DISINHERITED. + +From the crowd assembled in front of the house of the village +elder came the sound of voices; but as soon as Nekhludoff came up +the talking ceased, and all the peasants took off their caps, +just as those in Kousminski had done. The peasants here were of a +much poorer class than those in Kousminski. The men wore shoes +made of bark and homespun shirts and coats. Some had come +straight from their work in their shirts and with bare feet. + +Nekhludoff made an effort, and began his speech by telling the +peasants of his intention to give up his land to them altogether. +The peasants were silent, and the expression on their faces did +not undergo any change. + +"Because I hold," said Nekhludoff, "and believe that every one +has a right to the use of the land." + +"That's certain. That's so, exactly," said several voices. + +Nekhludoff went on to say that the revenue from the land ought to +be divided among all, and that he would therefore suggest that +they should rent the land at a price fixed by themselves, the +rent to form a communal fund for their own use. Words of approval +and agreement were still to be heard, but the serious faces of +the peasants grew still more serious, and the eyes that had been +fixed on the gentleman dropped, as if they were unwilling to put +him to shame by letting him see that every one had understood his +trick, and that no one would be deceived by him. + +Nekhludoff spoke clearly, and the peasants were intelligent, but +they did not and could not understand him, for the same reason +that the foreman had so long been unable to understand him. + +They were fully convinced that it is natural for every man to +consider his own interest. The experience of many generations had +proved to them that the landlords always considered their own +interest to the detriment of the peasants. Therefore, if a +landlord called them to a meeting and made them some kind of a +new offer, it could evidently only be in order to swindle them +more cunningly than before. + +"Well, then, what are you willing to rent the land at?" asked +Nekhludoff. + +"How can we fix a price? We cannot do it. The land is yours, and +the power is in your hands," answered some voices from among the +crowd. + +"Oh, not at all. You will yourselves have the use of the money +for communal purposes." + +"We cannot do it; the commune is one thing, and this is another." + +"Don't you understand?" said the foreman, with a smile (he had +followed Nekhludoff to the meeting), "the Prince is letting the +land to you for money, and is giving you the money back to form a +capital for the commune." + +"We understand very well," said a cross, toothless old man, +without raising his eyes. "Something like a bank; we should have +to pay at a fixed time. We do not wish it; it is hard enough as +it is, and that would ruin us completely." + +"That's no go. We prefer to go on the old way," began several +dissatisfied, and even rude, voices. + +The refusals grew very vehement when Nekhludoff mentioned that he +would draw up an agreement which would have to be signed by him +and by them. + +"Why sign? We shall go on working as we have done hitherto. What +is all this for? We are ignorant men." + +"We can't agree, because this sort of thing is not what we have +been used to. As it was, so let it continue to be. Only the seeds +we should like to withdraw." + +This meant that under the present arrangement the seeds had to be +provided by the peasants, and they wanted the landlord to provide +them. + +"Then am I to understand that you refuse to accept the land?" +Nekhludoff asked, addressing a middle-aged, barefooted peasant, +with a tattered coat, and a bright look on his face, who was +holding his worn cap with his left hand, in a peculiarly straight +position, in the same way soldiers hold theirs when commanded to +take them off. + +"Just so," said this peasant, who had evidently not yet rid +himself of the military hypnotism he had been subjected to while +serving his time. + +"It means that you have sufficient land," said Nekhludoff. + +"No, sir, we have not," said the ex-soldier, with an artificially +pleased look, carefully holding his tattered cap in front of him, +as if offering it to any one who liked to make use of it. + +"Well, anyhow, you'd better think over what I have said." +Nekhludoff spoke with surprise, and again repeated his offer. + +"We have no need to think about it; as we have said, so it will +be," angrily muttered the morose, toothless old man. + +"I shall remain here another day, and if you change your minds, +send to let me know." + +The peasants gave no answer. + +So Nekhludoff did not succeed in arriving at any result from this +interview. + +"If I might make a remark, Prince," said the foreman, when they +got home, "you will never come to any agreement with them; they +are so obstinate. At a meeting these people just stick in one +place, and there is no moving them. It is because they are +frightened of everything. Why, these very peasants--say that +white-haired one, or the dark one, who were refusing, are +intelligent peasants. When one of them comes to the office and +one makes him sit down to cup of tea it's like in the Palace of +Wisdom--he is quite diplomatist," said the foreman, smiling; "he +will consider everything rightly. At a meeting it's a different +man--he keeps repeating one and the same . . ." + +"Well, could not some of the more intelligent men be asked to +come here?" said Nekhludoff. "I would carefully explain it to +them." + +"That can be done," said the smiling foreman. + +"Well, then, would you mind calling them here to-morrow?" + +"Oh, certainly I will," said the foreman, and smiled still more +joyfully. "I shall call them to-morrow." + +"Just hear him; he's not artful, not he," said a blackhaired +peasant, with an unkempt beard, as he sat jolting from side to +side on a well-fed mare, addressing an old man in a torn coat who +rode by his side. The two men were driving a herd of the +peasants' horses to graze in the night, alongside the highroad +and secretly, in the landlord's forest. + +"Give you the land for nothing--you need only sign--have they not +done the likes of us often enough? No, my friend, none of your +humbug. Nowadays we have a little sense," he added, and began +shouting at a colt that had strayed. + +He stopped his horse and looked round, but the colt had not +remained behind; it had gone into the meadow by the roadside. +"Bother that son of a Turk; he's taken to getting into the +landowner's meadows," said the dark peasant with the unkempt +beard, hearing the cracking of the sorrel stalks that the +neighing colt was galloping over as he came running back from the +scented meadow. + +"Do you hear the cracking? We'll have to send the women folk to +weed the meadow when there's a holiday," said the thin peasant +with the torn coat, "or else we'll blunt our scythes." + +"Sign," he says. The unkempt man continued giving his opinion of +the landlord's speech. "'Sign,' indeed, and let him swallow you +up." + +"That's certain," answered the old man. And then they were +silent, and the tramping of the horses' feet along the highroad +was the only sound to be heard. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +GOD'S PEACE IN THE HEART. + +When Nekhludoff returned he found that the office had been +arranged as a bedroom for him. A high bedstead, with a feather +bed and two large pillows, had been placed in the room. The bed +was covered with a dark red doublebedded silk quilt, which was +elaborately and finely quilted, and very stiff. It evidently +belonged to the trousseau of the foreman's wife. The foreman +offered Nekhludoff the remains of the dinner, which the latter +refused, and, excusing himself for the poorness of the fare and +the accommodation, he left Nekhludoff alone. + +The peasants' refusal did not at all bother Nekhludoff. On the +contrary, though at Kousminski his offer had been accepted and he +had even been thanked for it, and here he was met with suspicion +and even enmity, he felt contented and joyful. + +It was close and dirty in the office. Nekhludoff went out into +the yard, and was going into the garden, but he remembered: that +night, the window of the maid-servant's room, the side porch, and +he felt uncomfortable, and did not like to pass the spot +desecrated by guilty memories. He sat down on the doorstep, and +breathing in the warm air, balmy with the strong scent of fresh +birch leaves, he sat for a long time looking into the dark garden +and listening to the mill, the nightingales, and some other bird +that whistled monotonously in the bush close by. The light +disappeared from the foreman's window; in the cast, behind the +barn, appeared the light of the rising moon, and sheet lightning +began to light up the dilapidated house, and the blooming, +over-grown garden more and more frequently. It began to thunder +in the distance, and a black cloud spread over one-third of the +sky. The nightingales and the other birds were silent. Above the +murmur of the water from the mill came the cackling of geese, and +then in the village and in the foreman's yard the first cocks +began to crow earlier than usual, as they do on warm, thundery +nights. There is a saying that if the cocks crow early the night +will be a merry one. For Nekhludoff the night was more than +merry; it was a happy, joyful night. Imagination renewed the +impressions of that happy summer which he had spent here as an +innocent lad, and he felt himself as he had been not only at that +but at all the best moments of his life. He not only remembered +but felt as he had felt when, at the age of 14, he prayed that +God would show him the truth; or when as a child he had wept on +his mother's lap, when parting from her, and promising to be +always good, and never give her pain; he felt as he did when he +and Nikolenka Irtenieff resolved always to support each other in +living a good life and to try to make everybody happy. + +He remembered how he had been tempted in Kousminski, so that he +had begun to regret the house and the forest and the farm and the +land, and he asked himself if he regretted them now, and it even +seemed strange to think that he could regret them. He remembered +all he had seen to-day; the woman with the children, and without +her husband, who was in prison for having cut down trees in his +(Nekhludoff's) forest, and the terrible Matrona, who considered, +or at least talked as if she considered, that women of her +position must give themselves to the gentlefolk; he remembered +her relation to the babies, the way in which they were taken to +the Foundlings' Hospital, and the unfortunate, smiling, wizened +baby with the patchwork cap, dying of starvation. And then he +suddenly remembered the prison, the shaved heads, the cells, the +disgusting smells, the chains, and, by the side of it all, the +madly lavish city lift of the rich, himself included. + +The bright moon, now almost full, rose above the barn. Dark +shadows fell across the yard, and the iron roof of the ruined +house shone bright. As if unwilling to waste this light, the +nightingales again began their trills. + +Nekhludoff called to mind how he had begun to consider his life +in the garden of Kousminski when deciding what he was going to +do, and remembered how confused he had become, how he could not +arrive at any decision, how many difficulties each question had +presented. He asked himself these questions now, and was +surprised how simple it all was. It was simple because he was not +thinking now of what would be the results for himself, but only +thought of what he had to do. And, strange to say, what he had to +do for himself he could not decide, but what he had to do for +others he knew without any doubt. He had no doubt that he must +not leave Katusha, but go on helping her. He had no doubt that he +must study, investigate, clear up, understand all this business +concerning judgment and punishment, which he felt he saw +differently to other people. What would result from it all he did +not know, but he knew for certain that he must do it. And this +firm assurance gave him joy. + +The black cloud had spread all over the sky; the lightning +flashed vividly across the yard and the old house with its +tumble-down porches, the thunder growled overhead. All the birds +were silent, but the leaves rustled and the wind reached the step +where Nekhludoff stood and played with his hair. One drop came +down, then another; then they came drumming on the dock leaves +and on the iron of the roof, and all the air was filled by a +bright flash, and before Nekhludoff could count three a fearful +crash sounded over head and spread pealing all over the sky. + +Nekhludoff went in. + +"Yes, yes," he thought. "The work that our life accomplishes, the +whole of this work, the meaning of it is not, nor can be, +intelligible to me. What were my aunts for? Why did Nikolenka +Irtenieff die? Why am I living? What was Katusha for? And my +madness? Why that war? Why my subsequent lawless life? To +understand it, to understand the whole of the Master's will is +not in my power. But to do His will, that is written down in my +conscience, is in my power; that I know for certain. And when I +am fulfilling it I have sureness and peace." + +The rain came down in torrents and rushed from the roof into a +tub beneath; the lightning lit up the house and yard less +frequently. Nekhludoff went into his room, undressed, and lay +down, not without fear of the bugs, whose presence the dirty, +torn wall-papers made him suspect. + +"Yes, to feel one's self not the master but a servant," he +thought, and rejoiced at the thought. His fears were not vain. +Hardly had he put out his candle when the vermin attacked and +stung him. "To give up the land and go to Siberia. Fleas, bugs, +dirt! Ah, well; if it must be borne, I shall bear it." But, in +spite of the best of intentions, he could not bear it, and sat +down by the open window and gazed with admiration at the +retreating clouds and the reappearing moon. + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE LAND SETTLEMENT. + +It was morning before Nekhludoff could fall asleep, and therefore +he woke up late. At noon seven men, chosen from among the +peasants at the foreman's invitation, came into the orchard, +where the foreman had arranged a table and benches by digging +posts into the ground, and fixing boards on the top, under the +apple trees. It took some time before the peasants could be +persuaded to put on their caps and to sit down on the benches. +Especially firm was the ex-soldier, who to-day had bark shoes on. +He stood erect, holding his cap as they do at funerals, according +to military regulation. When one of them, a respectable-looking, +broad-shouldered old man, with a curly, grizzly beard like that +of Michael Angelo's "Moses," and grey hair that curled round the +brown, bald forehead, put on his big cap, and, wrapping his coat +round him, got in behind the table and sat down, the rest +followed his example. When all had taken their places Nekhludoff +sat down opposite them, and leaning on the table over the paper +on which he had drawn up his project, he began explaining it. + +Whether it was that there were fewer present, or that he was +occupied with the business in hand and not with himself, anyhow, +this time Nekhludoff felt no confusion. He involuntarily +addressed the broad-shouldered old man with white ringlets in his +grizzly beard, expecting approbation or objections from him. But +Nekhludoff's conjecture was wrong. The respectable-looking old +patriarch, though he nodded his handsome head approvingly or +shook it, and frowned when the others raised an objection, +evidently understood with great difficulty, and only when the +others repeated what Nekhludoff had said in their own words. A +little, almost beardless old fellow, blind in one eye, who sat by +the side of the patriarch, and had a patched nankeen coat and old +boots on, and, as Nekhludoff found out later, was an +oven-builder, understood much better. This man moved his brows +quickly, attending to Nekhludoff's words with an effort, and at +once repeated them in his own way. An old, thick-set man with a +white beard and intelligent eyes understood as quickly, and took +every opportunity to put in an ironical joke, clearly wishing to +show off. The ex-soldier seemed also to understand matters, but +got mixed, being used to senseless soldiers' talk. A tall man +with a small beard, a long nose, and a bass voice, who wore +clean, home-made clothes and new bark-plaited shoes, seemed to be +the one most seriously interested. This man spoke only when there +was need of it. The two other old men, the same toothless one who +had shouted a distinct refusal at the meeting the day before to +every proposal of Nekhludoff's, and a tall, white lame old man +with a kind face, his thin legs tightly wrapped round with strips +of linen, said little, though they listened attentively. First of +all Nekhludoff explained his views in regard to personal property +in land. "The land, according to my idea, can neither be bought +nor sold, because if it could be, he who has got the money could +buy it all, and exact anything he liked for the use of the land +from those who have none." + +"That's true," said the long-nosed man, in a deep bass. + +"Just so," said the ex-soldier. + +"A woman gathers a little grass for her cow; she's caught and +imprisoned," said the white-bearded old man. + +"Our own land is five versts away, and as to renting any it's +impossible; the price is raised so high that it won't pay," added +the cross, toothless old man. "They twist us into ropes, worse +than during serfdom." + +"I think as you do, and I count it a sin to possess land, so I +wish to give it away," said Nekhludoff. + +"Well, that's a good thing," said the old man, with curls like +Angelo's "Moses," evidently thinking that Nekhludoff meant to let +the land. + +"I have come here because I no longer wish to possess any land, +and now we must consider the best way of dividing it." + +"Just give it to the peasants, that's all," said the cross, +toothless old man. + +Nekhludoff was abashed for a moment, feeling a suspicion of his +not being honest in these words, but he instantly recovered, and +made use of the remark, in order to express what was in his mind, +in reply. + +"I should be glad to give it them," he said, "but to whom, and +how? To which of the peasants? Why, to your commune, and not to +that of Deminsk." (That was the name of a neighbouring village +with very little land.) All were silent. Then the ex-soldier +said, "Just so." + +"Now, then, tell me how would you divide the land among the +peasants if you had to do it?" said Nekhludoff. + +"We should divide it up equally, so much for every man," said the +oven-builder, quickly raising and lowering his brows. + +"How else? Of course, so much per man," said the good natured +lame man with the white strips of linen round his legs. + +Every one confirmed this statement, considering it satisfactory. + +"So much per man? Then are the servants attached to the house +also to have a share?" Nekhludoff asked. + +"Oh, no," said the ex-soldier, trying to appear bold and merry. +But the tall, reasonable man would not agree with him. + +"If one is to divide, all must share alike," he said, in his deep +bass, after a little consideration. + +"It can't be done," said Nekhludoff, who had already prepared his +reply. "If all are to share alike, then those who do not work +themselves--do not plough--will sell their shares to the rich. +The rich will again get at the land. Those who live by working +the land will multiply, and land will again be scarce. Then the +rich will again get those who need land into their power." + +"Just so," quickly said the ex-soldier. + +"Forbid to sell the land; let only him who ploughs it have it," +angrily interrupted the oven-builder. + +To this Nekhludoff replied that it was impossible to know who was +ploughing for himself and who for another. + +The tall, reasonable man proposed that an arrangement be made so +that they should all plough communally, and those who ploughed +should get the produce and those who did not should get nothing. + +To this communistic project Nekhludoff had also an answer ready. +He said that for such an arrangement it would be necessary that +all should have ploughs, and that all the horses should be alike, +so that none should be left behind, and that ploughs and horses +and all the implements would have to be communal property, and +that in order to get that, all the people would have to agree. + +"Our people could not be made to agree in a lifetime," said the +cross old man. + +"We should have regular fights," said the white-bearded old man +with the laughing eyes. "So that the thing is not as simple as it +looks," said Nekhludoff, "and this is a thing not only we but +many have been considering. There is an American, Henry George. +This is what he has thought out, and I agree with him." + +"Why, you are the master, and you give it as you like. What's it +to you? The power is yours," said the cross old man. + +This confused Nekhludoff, but he was pleased to see that not he +alone was dissatisfied with this interruption. + +"You wait a bit, Uncle Simon; let him tell us about it," said the +reasonable man, in his imposing bass. + +This emboldened Nekhludoff, and he began to explain Henry +George's single-tax system "The earth is no man's; it is God's," +he began. + +"Just so; that it is," several voices replied. + +"The land is common to all. All have the same right to it, but +there is good land and bad land, and every one would like to take +the good land. How is one to do in order to get it justly +divided? In this way: he that will use the good land must pay +those who have got no land the value of the land he uses," +Nekhludoff went on, answering his own question. "As it would be +difficult to say who should pay whom, and money is needed for +communal use, it should be arranged that he who uses the good +land should pay the amount of the value of his land to the +commune for its needs. Then every one would share equally. If you +want to use land pay for it--more for the good, less for the bad +land. If you do not wish to use land, don't pay anything, and +those who use the land will pay the taxes and the communal +expenses for you." + +"Well, he had a head, this George," said the oven-builder, moving +his brows. "He who has good land must pay more." + +"If only the payment is according to our strength," said the tall +man with the bass voice, evidently foreseeing how the matter +would end. + +"The payment should be not too high and not too low. If it is too +high it will not get paid, and there will be a loss; and if it is +too low it will be bought and sold. There would be a trading in +land. This is what I wished to arrange among you here." + +"That is just, that is right; yes, that would do," said the +peasants. + +"He has a head, this George," said the broad-shouldered old man +with the curls. "See what he has invented." + +"Well, then, how would it be if I wished to take some land?" +asked the smiling foreman. + +"If there is an allotment to spare, take it and work it," said +Nekhludoff. + +"What do you want it for? You have sufficient as it is," said the +old man with the laughing eyes. + +With this the conference ended. + +Nekhludoff repeated his offer, and advised the men to talk it +over with the rest of the commune and to return with the answer. + +The peasants said they would talk it over and bring an answer, +and left in a state of excitement. Their loud talk was audible as +they went along the road, and up to late in the night the sound +of voices came along the river from the village. + +The next day the peasants did not go to work, but spent it in +considering the landlord's offer. The commune was divided into +two parties--one which regarded the offer as a profitable one to +themselves and saw no danger in agreeing with it, and another +which suspected and feared the offer it did not understand. On +the third day, however, all agreed, and some were sent to +Nekhludoff to accept his offer. They were influenced in their +decision by the explanation some of the old men gave of the +landlord's conduct, which did away with all fear of deceit. They +thought the gentleman had begun to consider his soul, and was +acting as he did for its salvation. The alms which Nekhludoff had +given away while in Panovo made his explanation seem likely. The +fact that Nekhludoff had never before been face to face with such +great poverty and so bare a life as the peasants had come to in +this place, and was so appalled by it, made him give away money +in charity, though he knew that this was not reasonable. He could +not help giving the money, of which he now had a great deal, +having received a large sum for the forest he had sold the year +before, and also the hand money for the implements and stock in +Kousminski. As soon as it was known that the master was giving +money in charity, crowds of people, chiefly women, began to come +to ask him for help. He did not in the least know how to deal +with them, how to decide, how much, and whom to give to. He felt +that to refuse to give money, of which he had a great deal, to +poor people was impossible, yet to give casually to those who +asked was not wise. The last day he spent in Panovo, Nekhludoff +looked over the things left in his aunts' house, and in the +bottom drawer of the mahogany wardrobe, with the brass lions' +heads with rings through them, he found many letters, and amongst +them a photograph of a group, consisting of his aunts, Sophia +Ivanovna and Mary Ivanovna, a student, and Katusha. Of all the +things in the house he took only the letters and the photograph. +The rest he left to the miller who, at the smiling foreman's +recommendation, had bought the house and all it contained, to be +taken down and carried away, at one-tenth of the real value. + +Recalling the feeling of regret at the loss of his property which +he had felt in Kousminski, Nekhludoff was surprised how he could +have felt this regret. Now he felt nothing but unceasing joy at +the deliverance, and a sensation of newness something like that +which a traveller must experience when discovering new countries. + + + +CHAPTER X. + +NEKHLUDOFF RETURNS TO TOWN. + +The town struck Nekhludoff in a new and peculiar light on his +return. He came back in the evening, when the gas was lit, and +drove from the railway station to his house, where the rooms +still smelt of naphthaline. Agraphena Petrovna and Corney were +both feeling tired and dissatisfied, and had even had a quarrel +over those things that seemed made only to be aired and packed +away. Nekhludoff's room was empty, but not in order, and the way +to it was blocked up with boxes, so that his arrival evidently +hindered the business which, owing to a curious kind of inertia, +was going on in this house. The evident folly of these +proceedings, in which he had once taken part, was so distasteful +to Nekhludoff after the impressions the misery of the life of the +peasants had made on him, that he decided to go to a hotel the +next day, leaving Agraphena Petrovna to put away the things as +she thought fit until his sister should come and finally dispose +of everything in the house. + +Nekhludoff left home early and chose a couple of rooms in a very +modest and not particularly clean lodging-house within easy reach +of the prison, and, having given orders that some of his things +should be sent there, he went to see the advocate. It was cold +out of doors. After some rainy and stormy weather it had turned +out cold, as it often does in spring. It was so cold that +Nekhludoff felt quite chilly in his light overcoat, and walked +fast hoping to get warmer. His mind was filled with thoughts of +the peasants, the women, children, old men, and all the poverty +and weariness which he seemed to have seen for the first time, +especially the smiling, old-faced infant writhing with his +calfless little legs, and he could not help contrasting what was +going on in the town. Passing by the butchers', fishmongers', and +clothiers' shops, he was struck, as if he saw them for the first +time, by the appearance of the clean, well-fed shopkeepers, like +whom you could not find one peasant in the country. These men +were apparently convinced that the pains they took to deceive the +people who did not know much about their goods was not a useless +but rather an important business. The coachmen with their broad +hips and rows of buttons down their sides, and the door-keepers +with gold cords on their caps, the servant-girls with their +aprons and curly fringes, and especially the smart isvostchiks +with the nape of their necks clean shaved, as they sat lolling +back in their traps, and examined the passers-by with dissolute +and contemptuous air, looked well fed. In all these people +Nekhludoff could not now help seeing some of these very peasants +who had been driven into the town by lack of land. Some of the +peasants driven to the town had found means of profiting by the +conditions of town life and had become like the gentlefolk and +were pleased with their position; others were in a worse position +than they had been in the country and were more to be pitied than +the country people. + +Such seemed the bootmakers Nekhludoff saw in the cellar, the +pale, dishevelled washerwomen with their thin, bare, arms ironing +at an open window, out of which streamed soapy steam; such the +two house-painters with their aprons, stockingless feet, all +bespattered and smeared with paint, whom Nekhludoff met--their +weak, brown arms bared to above the elbows--carrying a pailful of +paint, and quarrelling with each other. Their faces looked +haggard and cross. The dark faces of the carters jolting along in +their carts bore the same expression, and so did the faces of the +tattered men and women who stood begging at the street corners. +The same kind of faces were to be seen at the open, windows of +the eating-houses which Nekhludoff passed. By the dirty tables on +which stood tea things and bottles, and between which waiters +dressed in white shirts were rushing hither and thither, sat +shouting and singing red, perspiring men with stupefied faces. +One sat by the window with lifted brows and pouting lips and +fixed eyes as if trying to remember something. + +"And why are they all gathered here?" Nekhludoff thought, +breathing in together with the dust which the cold wind blew +towards him the air filled with the smell of rank oil and fresh +paint. + +In one street he met a row of carts loaded with something made of +iron, that rattled so on the uneven pavement that it made his +ears and head ache. He started walking still faster in order to +pass the row of carts, when he heard himself called by name. He +stopped and saw an officer with sharp pointed moustaches and +shining face who sat in the trap of a swell isvostchik and waved +his hand in a friendly manner, his smile disclosing unusually +long, white teeth. + +"Nekhludoff! Can it be you?" + +Nekhludoff's first feeling was one of pleasure. "Ah, Schonbock!" +he exclaimed joyfully; but he knew the next moment that there was +nothing to be joyful about. + +This was that Schonbock who had been in the house of Nekhludoff's +aunts that day, and whom Nekhludoff had quite lost out of sight, +but about whom he had heard that in spite of his debts he had +somehow managed to remain in the cavalry, and by some means or +other still kept his place among the rich. His gay, contented +appearance corroborated this report. + +"What a good thing that I have caught you. There is no one in +town. Ah, old fellow; you have grown old," he said, getting out +of the trap and moving his shoulders about. "I only knew you by +your walk. Look here, we must dine together. Is there any place +where they feed one decently?" + +"I don't think I can spare the time," Nekhludoff answered, +thinking only of how he could best get rid of his companion +without hurting him. + +"And what has brought you here?" he asked. + +"Business, old fellow. Guardianship business. I am a guardian +now. I am managing Samanoff's affairs--the millionaire, you know. +He has softening of the brain, and he's got fifty-four thousand +desiatins of land," he said, with peculiar pride, as if he had +himself made all these desiatins. "The affairs were terribly +neglected. All the land was let to the peasants. They did not pay +anything. There were more than eighty thousand roubles debts. I +changed it all in one year, and have got 70 per cent. more out of +it. What do you think of that?" he asked proudly. + +Nekhludoff remembered having heard that this Schonbock, just +because, he had spent all he had, had attained by some special +influence the post of guardian to a rich old man who was +squandering his property--and was now evidently living by this +guardianship. + +"How am I to get rid of him without offending him?" thought +Nekhludoff, looking at this full, shiny face with the stiffened +moustache and listening to his friendly, good-humoured chatter +about where one gets fed best, and his bragging about his doings +as a guardian. + +"Well, then, where do we dine?" + +"Really, I have no time to spare," said Nekhludoff, glancing at +his watch. + +"Then, look here. To-night, at the races--will you be there?" + +"No, I shall not be there." + +"Do come. I have none of my own now, but I back Grisha's horses. +You remember; he has a fine stud. You'll come, won't you? And +we'll have some supper together." + +"No, I cannot have supper with you either," said Nekhludoff with +a smile. + +"Well, that's too bad! And where are you off to now? Shall I give +you a lift?" + +"I am going to see an advocate, close to here round the corner." + +"Oh, yes, of course. You have got something to do with the +prisons--have turned into a prisoners' mediator, I hear," said +Schonbock, laughing. "The Korchagins told me. They have left town +already. What does it all mean? Tell me." + +"Yes, yes, it is quite true," Nekhludoff answered; "but I cannot +tell you about it in the street." + +"Of course; you always were a crank. But you will come to the +races?" + +"No. I neither can nor wish to come. Please do not be angry with +me." + +"Angry? Dear me, no. Where do you live?" And suddenly his face +became serious, his eyes fixed, and he drew up his brows. He +seemed to be trying to remember something, and Nekhludoff noticed +the same dull expression as that of the man with the raised brows +and pouting lips whom he had seen at the window of the +eating-house. + +"How cold it is! Is it not? Have you got the parcels?" said +Schonbock, turning to the isvostchik. + +"All right. Good-bye. I am very glad indeed to have met you," and +warmly pressing Nekhludoff's hand, he jumped into the trap and +waved his white-gloved hand in front of his shiny face, with his +usual smile, showing his exceptionally white teeth. + +"Can I have also been like that?" Nekhludoff thought, as he +continued his way to the advocate's. "Yes, I wished to be like +that, though I was not quite like it. And I thought of living my +life in that way." + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +AN ADVOCATE'S VIEWS ON JUDGES AND PROSECUTORS. + +Nekhludoff was admitted by the advocate before his turn. The +advocate at once commenced to talk about the Menshoffs' case, +which he had read with indignation at the inconsistency of the +accusation. + +"This case is perfectly revolting," he said; "it is very likely +that the owner himself set fire to the building in order to get +the insurance money, and the chief thing is that there is no +evidence to prove the Menshoffs' guilt. There are no proofs +whatever. It is all owing to the special zeal of the examining +magistrate and the carelessness of the prosecutor. If they are +tried here, and not in a provincial court, I guarantee that they +will be acquitted, and I shall charge nothing. Now then, the next +case, that of Theodosia Birukoff. The appeal to the Emperor is +written. If you go to Petersburg, you'd better take it with you, +and hand it in yourself, with a request of your own, or else they +will only make a few inquiries, and nothing will come of it. You +must try and get at some of the influential members of the Appeal +Committee." + +"Well, is this all?" + +"No; here I have a letter . . . I see you have turned into a +pipe--a spout through which all the complaints of the prison are +poured," said the advocate, with a smile. "It is too much; you'll +not be able to manage it." + +"No, but this is a striking case," said Nekhludoff, and gave a +brief outline of the case of a peasant who began to read the +Gospels to the peasants in the village, and to discuss them with +his friends. The priests regarded this as a crime and informed +the authorities. The magistrate examined him and the public +prosecutor drew up an act of indictment, and the law courts +committed him for trial. + +"This is really too terrible," Nekhludoff said. "Can it be true?" + +"What are you surprised at?" + +"Why, everything. I can understand the police-officer, who simply +obeys orders, but the prosecutor drawing up an act of that kind. +An educated man . . ." + +"That is where the mistake lies, that we are in the habit of +considering that the prosecutors and the judges in general are +some kind of liberal persons. There was a time when they were +such, but now it is quite different. They are just officials, +only troubled about pay-day. They receive their salaries and want +them increased, and there their principles end. They will accuse, +judge, and sentence any one you like." + +"Yes; but do laws really exist that can condemn a man to Siberia +for reading the Bible with his friends?" + +"Not only to be exiled to the less remote parts of Siberia, but +even to the mines, if you can only prove that reading the Bible +they took the liberty of explaining it to others not according to +orders, and in this way condemned the explanations given by the +Church. Blaming the Greek orthodox religion in the presence of +the common people means, according to Statute . . . the mines." + +"Impossible!" + +"I assure you it is so. I always tell these gentlemen, the +judges," the advocate continued, "that I cannot look at them +without gratitude, because if I am not in prison, and you, and +all of us, it is only owing to their kindness. To deprive us of +our privileges, and send us all to the less remote parts of +Siberia, would be an easy thing for them." + +"Well, if it is so, and if everything depends on the Procureur +and others who can, at will, either enforce the laws or not, what +are the trials for?" + +The advocate burst into a merry laugh. "You do put strange +questions. My dear sir, that is philosophy. Well, we might have a +talk about that, too. Could you come on Saturday? You will meet +men of science, literary men, and artists at my house, and then +we might discuss these general questions," said the advocate, +pronouncing the words "general questions" with ironical pathos. +"You have met my wife? Do come." + +"Thank you; I will try to," said Nekhludoff, and felt that he was +saying an untruth, and knew that if he tried to do anything it +would be to keep away froth the advocate's literary evening, and +the circle of the men of science, art, and literature. + +The laugh with which the advocate met Nekhludoff's remark that +trials could have no meaning if the judges might enforce the laws +or not, according to their notion, and the tone with which he +pronounced the words "philosophy" and "general questions" proved +to Nekhludoff how very differently he and the advocate and, +probably, the advocate's friends, looked at things; and he felt +that in spite of the distance that now existed between himself +and his former companions, Schonbock, etc., the difference +between himself and the circle of the advocate and his friends +was still greater. + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +WHY THE PEASANTS FLOCK TO TOWN. + +The prison was a long way off and it was getting late, so +Nekhludoff took an isvostchik. The isvostchik, a middle-aged man +with an intelligent and kind face, turned round towards +Nekhludoff as they were driving along one of the streets and +pointed to a huge house that was being built there. + +"Just see what a tremendous house they have begun to build," he +said, as if he was partly responsible for the building of the +house and proud of it. The house was really immense and was being +built in a very original style. The strong pine beams of the +scaffolding were firmly fixed together with iron bands and a +plank wall separated the building from the street. + +On the boards of the scaffolding workmen, all bespattered with +plaster, moved hither and thither like ants. Some were laying +bricks, some hewing stones, some carrying up the heavy hods and +pails and bringing them down empty. A fat and finely-dressed +gentleman--probably the architect--stood by the scaffolding, +pointing upward and explaining something to a contractor, a +peasant from the Vladimir Government, who was respectfully +listening to him. Empty carts were coming out of the gate by +which the architect and the contractor were standing, and loaded +ones were going in. "And how sure they all are--those that do the +work as well as those that make them do it--that it ought to be; +that while their wives at home, who are with child, are labouring +beyond their strength, and their children with the patchwork +caps, doomed soon to the cold grave, smile with suffering and +contort their little legs, they must be building this stupid and +useless palace for some stupid and useless person--one of those +who spoil and rob them," Nekhludoff thought, while looking at the +house. + +"Yes, it is a stupid house," he said, uttering his thought out +aloud. + +"Why stupid?" replied the isvostchik, in an offended tone. +"Thanks to it, the people get work; it's not stupid." + +"But the work is useless." + +"It can't be useless, or why should it be done?" said the +isvostchik. "The people get bread by it." + +Nekhludoff was silent, and it would have been difficult to talk +because of the clatter the wheels made. + +When they came nearer the prison, and the isvostchik turned off +the paved on to the macadamised road, it became easier to talk, +and he again turned to Nekhludoff. + +"And what a lot of these people are flocking to the town +nowadays; it's awful," he said, turning round on the box and +pointing to a party of peasant workmen who were coming towards +them, carrying saws, axes, sheepskins, coats, and bags strapped +to their shoulders. + +"More than in other years?" Nekhludoff asked. + +"By far. This year every place is crowded, so that it's just +terrible. The employers just fling the workmen about like chaff. +Not a job to be got." + +"Why is that?" + +"They've increased. There's no room for them." + +"Well, what if they have increased? Why do not they stay in the +village?" + +"There's nothing for them to do in the village--no land to be +had." + +Nekhludoff felt as one does when touching a sore place. It feels +as if the bruised part was always being hit; yet it is only +because the place is sore that the touch is felt. + +"Is it possible that the same thing is happening everywhere?" he +thought, and began questioning the isvostchik about the quantity +of land in his village, how much land the man himself had, and +why he had left the country. + +"We have a desiatin per man, sir," he said. "Our family have +three men's shares of the land. My father and a brother are at +home, and manage the land, and another brother is serving in the +army. But there's nothing to manage. My brother has had thoughts +of coming to Moscow, too." + +"And cannot land be rented?" + +"How's one to rent it nowadays? The gentry, such as they were, +have squandered all theirs. Men of business have got it all into +their own hands. One can't rent it from them. They farm it +themselves. We have a Frenchman ruling in our place; he bought +the estate from our former landlord, and won't let it--and +there's an end of it." + +"Who's that Frenchman?" + +"Dufour is the Frenchman's name. Perhaps you've heard of him. He +makes wigs for the actors in the big theatre; it is a good +business, so he's prospering. He bought it from our lady, the +whole of the estate, and now he has us in his power; he just +rides on us as he pleases. The Lord be thanked, he is a good man +himself; only his wife, a Russian, is such a brute that--God have +mercy on us. She robs the people. It's awful. Well, here's the +prison. Am I to drive you to the entrance? I'm afraid they'll not +let us do it, though." + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +NURSE MASLOVA. + +When he rang the bell at the front entrance Nekhludoff's heart +stood still with horror as he thought of the state he might find +Maslova in to-day, and at the mystery that he felt to be in her +and in the people that were collected in the prison. He asked the +jailer who opened the door for Maslova. After making the +necessary inquiry the jailer informed him that she was in the +hospital. Nekhludoff went there. A kindly old man, the hospital +doorkeeper, let him in at once and, after asking Nekhludoff whom +he wanted, directed him to the children's ward. A young doctor +saturated with carbolic acid met Nekhludoff in the passage and +asked him severely what he wanted. This doctor was always making +all sorts of concessions to the prisoners, and was therefore +continually coming into conflict with the prison authorities and +even with the head doctor. Fearing lest Nekhludoff should demand +something unlawful, and wishing to show that he made no +exceptions for any one, he pretended to be cross. "There are no +women here; it is the children's ward," he said. + +"Yes, I know; but a prisoner has been removed here to be an +assistant nurse." + +"Yes, there are two such here. Then whom do you want?" + +"I am closely connected with one of them, named Maslova," +Nekhludoff answered, "and should like to speak to her. I am going +to Petersburg to hand in an appeal to the Senate about her case +and should like to give her this. It is only a photo," Nekhludoff +said, taking an envelope out of his pocket. + +"All right, you may do that," said the doctor, relenting, and +turning to an old woman with a white apron, he told her to call +the prisoner--Nurse Maslova. + +"Will you take a seat, or go into the waiting-room?" + +"Thanks," said Nekhludoff, and profiting by the favourable change +in the manner of the doctor towards him asked how they were +satisfied with Maslova in the hospital. + +"Oh, she is all right. She works fairly well, if you the +conditions of her former life into account. But here she is." + +The old nurse came in at one of the doors, followed by Maslova, +who wore a blue striped dress, a white apron, a kerchief that +quite covered her hair. When she saw Nekhludoff her face flushed, +and she stopped as if hesitating, then frowned, and with downcast +eyes went quickly towards him along the strip of carpet in the +middle of the passage. When she came up to Nekhludoff she did not +wish to give him her hand, and then gave it, growing redder +still. Nekhludoff had not seen her since the day when she begged +forgiveness for having been in a passion, and he expected to find +her the same as she was then. But to-day she was quite different. +There was something new in the expression of her face, reserve +and shyness, and, as it seemed to him, animosity towards him. He +told her what he had already said to the doctor, i.e., that he +was going to Petersburg, and he handed her the envelope with the +photograph which he had brought from Panovo. + +"I found this in Panovo--it's an old photo; perhaps you would like +it. Take it." + +Lifting her dark eyebrows, she looked at him with surprise in her +squinting eyes, as if asking, "What is this for?" took the photo +silently and put it in the bib of her apron. + +"I saw your aunt there," said Nekhludoff. + +"Did you?" she said, indifferently. + +"Are you all right here?" Nekhludoff asked. + +"Oh, yes, it's all right," she said. + +"Not too difficult?" + +"Oh, no. But I am not used to it yet." + +"I am glad, for your sake. Anyhow, it is better than there." + +"Than where--there?" she asked, her face flushing again. + +"There--in the prison," Nekhludoff hurriedly answered. + +"Why better?" she asked. + +"I think the people are better. Here are none such as there must +be there." + +"There are many good ones there," she said. + +"I have been seeing about the Menshoffs, and hope they will be +liberated," said Nekhludoff. + +"God grant they may. Such a splendid old woman," she said, again +repeating her opinion of the old woman, and slightly smiling. + +"I am going to Petersburg to-day. Your case will come on soon, +and I hope the sentence will be repealed." + +"Whether it is repealed or not won't matter now," she said. + +"Why not now?" + +"So," she said, looking with a quick, questioning glance into his +eyes. + +Nekhludoff understood the word and the look to mean that she +wished to know whether he still kept firm to his decision or had +accepted her refusal. + +"I do not know why it does not matter to you," he said. "It +certainly does not matter as far as I am concerned whether you +are acquitted or not. I am ready to do what I told you in any +case," he said decidedly. + +She lifted her head and her black squinting eyes remained fixed +on him and beyond him, and her face beamed with joy. But the +words she spoke were very different from what her eyes said. + +"You should not speak like that," she said. + +"I am saying it so that you should know." + +"Everything has been said about that, and there is no use +speaking," she said, with difficulty repressing a smile. + +A sudden noise came from the hospital ward, and the sound of a +child crying. + +"I think they are calling me," she said, and looked round +uneasily. + +"Well, good-bye, then," he said. She pretended not to see his +extended hand, and, without taking it, turned away and hastily +walked along the strip of carpet, trying to hide the triumph she +felt. + +"What is going on in her? What is she thinking? What does she +feel? Does she mean to prove me, or can she really not forgive +me? Is it that she cannot or that she will not express what she +feels and thinks? Has she softened or hardened?" he asked +himself, and could find no answer. He only knew that she had +altered and that an important change was going on in her soul, +and this change united him not only to her but also to Him for +whose sake that change was being wrought. And this union brought +on a state of joyful animation and tenderness. + +When she returned to the ward, in which there stood eight small +beds, Maslova began, in obedience to the nurse's order, to +arrange one of the beds; and, bending over too far with the +sheet, she slipped and nearly fell down. + +A little convalescent boy with a bandaged neck, who was looking +at her, laughed. Maslova could no longer contain herself and +burst into loud laughter, and such contagious laughter that +several of the children also burst out laughing, and one of the +sisters rebuked her angrily. + +"What are you giggling at? Do you think you are where you used to +be? Go and fetch the food." Maslova obeyed and went where she was +sent; but, catching the eye of the bandaged boy who was not +allowed to laugh, she again burst out laughing. + +Whenever she was alone Maslova again and again pulled the +photograph partly out of the envelope and looked at it +admiringly; but only in the evening when she was off duty and +alone in the bedroom which she shared with a nurse, did she take +it quite out of the envelope and gaze long at the faded yellow +photograph, caressing with, her eyes every detail of faces and +clothing, the steps of the veranda, and the bushes which served +as a background to his and hers and his aunts' faces, and could +not cease from admiring especially herself--her pretty young face +with the curly hair round the forehead. She was so absorbed that +she did not hear her fellow-nurse come into the room. + +"What is it that he's given you?" said the good-natured, fat +nurse, stooping over the photograph. + +"Who's this? You?" + +"Who else?" said Maslova, looking into her companion's face with +a smile. + +"And who's this?" + +"Himself." + +"And is this his mother?" + +"No, his aunt. Would you not have known me?" + +"Never. The whole face is altered. Why, it must be 10 years since +then." + +"Not years, but a lifetime," said Maslova. And suddenly her +animation went, her face grew gloomy, and a deep line appeared +between her brows. + +"Why so? Your way of life must have been an easy one." + +"Easy, indeed," Maslova reiterated, closing her eyes and shaking +her head. "It is hell." + +"Why, what makes it so?" + +"What makes it so! From eight till four in the morning, and every +night the same!" + +"Then why don't they give it up?" + +"They can't give it up if they want to. But what's the use of +talking?" Maslova said, jumping up and throwing the photograph +into the drawer of the table. And with difficulty repressing +angry tears, she ran out into the passage and slammed the door. + +While looking at the group she imagined herself such as she was +there and dreamt of her happiness then and of the possibility of +happiness with him now. But her companion's words reminded her of +what she was now and what she had been, and brought back all the +horrors of that life, which she had felt but dimly, and not +allowed herself to realise. + +It was only now that the memory of all those terrible nights came +vividly back to her, especially one during the carnival when she +was expecting a student who had promised to buy her out. She +remembered how she--wearing her low necked silk dress stained +with wine, a red bow in her untidy hair, wearied, weak, half +tipsy, having seen her visitors off, sat down during an interval +in the dancing by the piano beside the bony pianiste with the +blotchy face, who played the accompaniments to the violin, and +began complaining of her hard fate; and how this pianiste said +that she, too, was feeling how heavy her position was and would +like to change it; and how Clara suddenly came up to them; and +how they all three decided to change their life. They thought +that the night was over, and were about to go away, when suddenly +the noise of tipsy voices was heard in the ante-room. The +violinist played a tune and the pianiste began hammering the +first figure of a quadrille on the piano, to the tune of a most +merry Russian song. A small, perspiring man, smelling of spirits, +with a white tie and swallow-tail coat, which he took off after +the first figure, came up to her, hiccoughing, and caught her up, +while another fat man, with a beard, and also wearing a +dress-coat (they had come straight from a ball) caught Clara up, +and for a long time they turned, danced, screamed, drank. . . . +And so it went on for another year, and another, and a third. How +could she help changing? And he was the cause of it all. And, +suddenly, all her former bitterness against him reawoke; she +wished to scold, to reproach him. She regretted having neglected +the opportunity of repeating to him once more that she knew him, +and would not give in to him--would not let him make use of her +spiritually as he had done physically. + +And she longed for drink in order to stifle the feeling of pity +to herself and the useless feeling of reproach to him. And she +would have broken her word if she had been inside the prison. +Here she could not get any spirits except by applying to the +medical assistant, and she was afraid of him because he made up +to her, and intimate relations with men were disgusting to her +now. After sitting a while on a form in the passage she returned +to her little room, and without paying any heed to her +companion's words, she wept for a long time over her wrecked +life. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +AN ARISTOCRATIC CIRCLE. + +Nekhludoff had four matters to attend to in Petersburg. The first +was the appeal to the Senate in Maslova's case; the second, to +hand in Theodosia Birukoff's petition to the committee; the +third, to comply with Vera Doukhova's requests--i.e., try to get +her friend Shoustova released from prison, and get permission for +a mother to visit her son in prison. Vera Doukhova had written to +him about this, and he was going to the Gendarmerie Office to +attend to these two matters, which he counted as one. + +The fourth matter he meant to attend to was the case of some +sectarians who had been separated from their families and exiled +to the Caucasus because they read and discussed the Gospels. It +was not so much to them as to himself he had promised to do all +he could to clear up this affair. + +Since his last visit to Maslennikoff, and especially since he had +been in the country, Nekhludoff had not exactly formed a +resolution but felt with his whole nature a loathing for that +society in which he had lived till then, that society which so +carefully hides the sufferings of millions in order to assure +ease and pleasure to a small number of people, that the people +belonging to this society do not and cannot see these sufferings, +nor the cruelty and wickedness of their life. Nekhludoff could no +longer move in this society without feeling ill at ease and +reproaching himself. And yet all the ties of relationship and +friendship, and his own habits, were drawing him back into this +society. Besides, that which alone interested him now, his desire +to help Maslova and the other sufferers, made it necessary to ask +for help and service from persons belonging to that society, +persons whom he not only could not respect, but who often aroused +in him indignation and a feeling of contempt. + +When he came to Petersburg and stopped at his aunt's--his +mother's sister, the Countess Tcharsky, wife of a former +minister--Nekhludoff at once found himself in the very midst of +that aristocratic circle which had grown so foreign to him. This +was very unpleasant, but there was no possibility of getting out +of it. To put up at an hotel instead of at his aunt's house would +have been to offend his aunt, and, besides, his aunt had +important connections and might be extremely useful in all these +matters he meant to attend to. + +"What is this I hear about you? All sorts of marvels," said the +Countess Katerina Ivanovna Tcharsky, as she gave him his coffee +immediately after his arrival. "_Vous posez pour un Howard_. +Helping criminals, going the round of prisons, setting things +right." + +"Oh, no. I never thought of it." + +"Why not? It is a good thing, only there seems to be some +romantic story connected with it. Let us hear all about it." + +Nekhludoff told her the whole truth about his relations to +Maslova. + +"Yes, yes, I remember your poor mother telling me about it. That +was when you were staying with those old women. I believe they +wished to marry you to their ward (the Countess Katerina Ivanovna +had always despised Nekhludoff's aunts on his father's side). So +it's she. _Elle est encore jolie?_" + +Katerina Ivanovna was a strong, bright, energetic, talkative +woman of 60. She was tall and very stout, and had a decided black +moustache on her lip. Nekhludoff was fond of her and had even as +a child been infected by her energy and mirth. + +"No, ma tante, that's at an end. I only wish to help her, because +she is innocently accused. I am the cause of it and the cause of +her fate being what it is. I feel it my duty to do all I can for +her." + +"But what is this I have heard about your intention of marrying +her?" + +"Yes, it was my intention, but she does not wish it." + +Katerina Ivanovna looked at her nephew with raised brows and +drooping eyeballs, in silent amazement. Suddenly her face +changed, and with a look of pleasure she said: "Well, she is +wiser than you. Dear me, you are a fool. And you would have +married her?" + +"Most certainly." + +"After her having been what she was?" + +"All the more, since I was the cause of it." + +"Well, you are a simpleton," said his aunt, repressing a smile, +"a terrible simpleton; but it is just because you are such a +terrible simpleton that I love you." She repeated the word, +evidently liking it, as it seemed to correctly convey to her mind +the idea of her nephew's moral state. "Do you know--What a lucky +chance. Aline has a wonderful home--the Magdalene Home. I went +there once. They are terribly disgusting. After that I had to +pray continually. But Aline is devoted to it, body and soul, so +we shall place her there--yours, I mean." + +"But she is condemned to Siberia. I have come on purpose to +appeal about it. This is one of my requests to you." + +"Dear me, and where do you appeal to in this case?" + +"To the Senate." + +"Ah, the Senate! Yes, my dear Cousin Leo is in the Senate, but he +is in the heraldry department, and I don't know any of the real +ones. They are all some kind of Germans--Gay, Fay, Day--tout +l'alphabet, or else all sorts of Ivanoffs, Simenoffs, Nikitines, +or else Ivanenkos, Simonenkos, Nikitenkos, pour varier. Des gens +de l'autre monde. Well, it is all the same. I'll tell my husband, +he knows them. He knows all sorts of people. I'll tell him, but +you will have to explain, he never understands me. Whatever I may +say, he always maintains he does not understand it. C'est un +parti pris, every one understands but only not he." + +At this moment a footman with stockinged legs came in with a note +on a silver platter. + +"There now, from Aline herself. You'll have a chance of hearing +Kiesewetter." + +"Who is Kiesewetter?" + +"Kiesewetter? Come this evening, and you will find out who he is. +He speaks in such a way that the most hardened criminals sink on +their knees and weep and repent." + +The Countess Katerina Ivanovna, however strange it may seem, and +however little it seemed in keeping with the rest of her +character, was a staunch adherent to that teaching which holds +that the essence of Christianity lies in the belief in +redemption. She went to meetings where this teaching, then in +fashion, was being preached, and assembled the "faithful" in her +own house. Though this teaching repudiated all ceremonies, icons, +and sacraments, Katerina Ivanovna had icons in every room, and +one on the wall above her bed, and she kept all that the Church +prescribed without noticing any contradiction in that. + +"There now; if your Magdalene could hear him she would be +converted," said the Countess. "Do stay at home to-night; you +will hear him. He is a wonderful man." + +"It does not interest me, ma tante." + +"But I tell you that it is interesting, and you must come home. +Now you may go. What else do you want of me? _Videz votre sac_." + +"The next is in the fortress." + +"In the fortress? I can give you a note for that to the Baron +Kriegsmuth. _Cest un tres brave homme_. Oh, but you know him; he +was a comrade of your father's. _Il donne dans le spiritisme_. But +that does not matter, he is a good fellow. What do you want +there?" + +"I want to get leave for a mother to visit her son who is +imprisoned there. But I was told that this did not depend on +Kriegsmuth but on Tcherviansky." + +"I do not like Tcherviansky, but he is Mariette's husband; we +might ask her. She will do it for me. _Elle est tres gentille_." + +"I have also to petition for a woman who is imprisoned there +without knowing what for." + +"No fear; she knows well enough. They all know it very well, and +it serves them right, those short-haired [many advanced women wear +their hair short, like men] ones." + +"We do not know whether it serves them right or not. But they +suffer. You are a Christian and believe in the Gospel teaching +and yet you are so pitiless." + +"That has nothing to do with it. The Gospels are the Gospels, but +what is disgusting remains disgusting. It would be worse if I +pretended to love Nihilists, especially short-haired women +Nihilists, when I cannot bear them." + +"Why can you not bear them?" + +"You ask why, after the 1st of March?" [The Emperor Alexander II +was killed on the first of March, old style.] + +"They did not all take part in it on the 1st of March." + +"Never mind; they should not meddle with what is no business of +theirs. It's not women's business." + +"Yet you consider that Mariette may take part in business." + +"Mariette? Mariette is Mariette, and these are goodness knows +what. Want to teach everybody." + +"Not to teach but simply to help the people." + +"One knows whom to help and whom not to help without them." + +"But the peasants are in great need. I have just returned from +the country. Is it necessary, that the peasants should work to +the very limits of their strength and never have sufficient to +eat while we are living in the greatest luxury?" said Nekhludoff, +involuntarily led on by his aunt's good nature into telling her +what he was in his thoughts. + +"What do you want, then? That I should work and not eat +anything?" + +"No, I do not wish you not to eat. I only wish that we should all +work and all eat." He could not help smiling as he said it. + +Again raising her brow and drooping her eyeballs his aunt looked +at him curiously. "_Mon cher vous finirez mal_," she said. + +Just then the general, and former minister, Countess Tcharsky's +husband, a tall, broad-shouldered man, came into the room. + +"Ah, Dmitri, how d'you do?" he said, turning his freshly-shaved +cheek to Nekhludoff to be kissed. "When did you get here?" And he +silently kissed his wife on the forehead. + +"_Non il est impayable_," the Countess said, turning to her +husband. "He wants me to go and wash clothes and live on +potatoes. He is an awful fool, but all the same do what he is +going to ask of you. A terrible simpleton," she added. "Have you +heard? Kamenskaya is in such despair that they fear for her +life," she said to her husband. "You should go and call there." + +"Yes; it is dreadful," said her husband. + +"Go along, then, and talk to him. I must write some letters." + +Hardly had Nekhludoff stepped into the room next the drawing-room +than she called him back. + +"Shall I write to Mariette, then?" + +"Please, ma tante." + +"I shall leave a blank for what you want to say about the +short-haired one, and she will give her husband his orders, and +he'll do it. Do not think me wicked; they are all so disgusting, +your prologues, but _je ne leur veux pas de mal_, bother them. +Well, go, but be sure to stay at home this evening to hear +Kiesewetter, and we shall have some prayers. And if only you do +not resist _cela vous fera beaucoup de bien_. I know your poor +mother and all of you were always very backward in these things." + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +AN AVERAGE STATESMAN. + +Count Ivan Michaelovitch had been a minister, and was a man of +strong convictions. The convictions of Count Ivan Michaelovitch +consisted in the belief that, just as it was natural for a bird +to feed on worms, to be clothed in feathers and down, and to fly +in the air, so it was natural for him to feed on the choicest and +most expensive food, prepared by highly-paid cooks, to wear the +most comfortable and most expensive clothing, to drive with the +best and fastest horses, and that, therefore, all these things +should be ready found for him. Besides this, Count Ivan +Michaelovitch considered that the more money he could get out of +the treasury by all sorts of means, the more orders he had, +including different diamond insignia of something or other, and +the oftener he spoke to highly-placed individuals of both sexes, +so much the better it was. + +All the rest Count Ivan Michaelovitch considered insignificant +and uninteresting beside these dogmas. All the rest might be as +it was, or just the reverse. Count Ivan Michaelovitch lived and +acted according to these lights for 40 years, and at the end of +40 years reached the position of a Minister of State. The chief +qualities that enabled Count Ivan Michaelovitch to reach this +position were his capacity of understanding the meaning of +documents and laws and of drawing up, though clumsily, +intelligible State papers, and of spelling them correctly; +secondly, his very stately appearance, which enabled him, when +necessary, to seem not only extremely proud, but unapproachable +and majestic, while at other times he could be abjectly and +almost passionately servile; thirdly, the absence of any general +principles or rules, either of personal or administrative +morality, which made it possible for him either to agree or +disagree with anybody according to what was wanted at the time. +When acting thus his only endeavour was to sustain the appearance +of good breeding and not to seem too plainly inconsistent. As for +his actions being moral or not, in themselves, or whether they +were going to result in the highest welfare or greatest evil for +the whole of the Russian Empire, or even the entire world, that +was quite indifferent to him. When he became minister, not only +those dependent on him (and there were great many of them) and +people connected with him, but many strangers and even he himself +were convinced that he was a very clever statesman. But after +some time had elapsed and he had done nothing and had nothing to +show, and when in accordance with the law of the struggle for +existence others, like himself, who had learnt to write and +understand documents, stately and unprincipled officials, had +displaced him, he turned out to be not only far from clever but +very limited and badly educated. Though self-assured, his views +hardly reaching the level of those in the leading articles of the +Conservative papers, it became apparent that there was nothing in +him to distinguish him from those other badly-educated and +self-assured officials who had pushed him out, and he himself saw +it. But this did not shake his conviction that he had to receive +a great deal of money out of the Treasury every year, and new +decorations for his dress clothes. This conviction was so firm +that no one had the pluck to refuse these things to him, and he +received yearly, partly in form of a pension, partly as a salary +for being a member in a Government institution and chairman of +all sorts of committees and councils, several tens of thousands +of roubles, besides the right--highly prized by him--of sewing +all sorts of new cords to his shoulders and trousers, and ribbons +to wear under and enamel stars to fix on to his dress coat. In +consequence of this Count Ivan Michaelovitch had very high +connections. + +Count Ivan Michaelovitch listened to Nekhludoff as he was wont to +listen to the reports of the permanent secretary of his +department, and, having heard him, said he would give him two +notes, one to the Senator Wolff, of the Appeal Department. "All +sorts of things are reported of him, but dans tous les cas c'est +un homme tres comme ii faut," he said. "He is indebted to me, and +will do all that is possible." The other note Count Ivan +Michaelovitch gave Nekhludoff was to an influential member of the +Petition Committee. The story of Theodosia Birukoff as told by +Nekhludoff interested him very much. When Nekhludoff said that he +thought of writing to the Empress, the Count replied that it +certainly was a very touching story, and might, if occasion +presented itself, he told her, but he could not promise. Let the +petition be handed in in due form. + +Should there be an opportunity, and if a petit comite were called +on Thursday, he thought he would tell her the story. As soon as +Nekhludoff had received these two notes, and a note to Mariette +from his aunt, he at once set off to these different places. + +First he went to Mariette's. He had known her as a half-grown +girl, the daughter of an aristocratic but not wealthy family, and +had heard how she had married a man who was making a career, whom +Nekhludoff had heard badly spoken of; and, as usual, he felt it +hard to ask a favour of a man he did not esteem. In these cases +he always felt an inner dissension and dissatisfaction, and +wavered whether to ask the favour or not, and always resolved to +ask. Besides feeling himself in a false position among those to +whose set he no longer regarded himself as belonging, who yet +regarded him as belonging to them, he felt himself getting into +the old accustomed rut, and in spite of himself fell into the +thoughtless and immoral tone that reigned in that circle. He felt +that from the first, with his aunt, he involuntarily fell into a +bantering tone while talking about serious matters. + +Petersburg in general affected him with its usual physically +invigorating and mentally dulling effect. + +Everything so clean, so comfortably well-arranged and the people +so lenient in moral matters, that life seemed very easy. + +A fine, clean, and polite isvostchik drove him past fine, clean, +polite policemen, along the fine, clean, watered streets, past +fine, clean houses to the house in which Mariette lived. At the +front door stood a pair of English horses, with English harness, +and an English-looking coachman on the box, with the lower part +of his face shaved, proudly holding a whip. The doorkeeper, +dressed in a wonderfully clean livery, opened the door into the +hall, where in still cleaner livery with gold cords stood the +footman with his splendid whiskers well combed out, and the +orderly on duty in a brand-new uniform. "The general does not +receive, and the generaless does not receive either. She is just +going to drive out." + +Nekhludoff took out Katerina Ivanovna's letter, and going up to a +table on which lay a visitors' book, began to write that he was +sorry not to have been able to see any one; when the footman went +up the staircase the doorkeeper went out and shouted to the +coachman, and the orderly stood up rigid with his arms at his +sides following with his eyes a little, slight lady, who was +coming down the stairs with rapid steps not in keeping with all +the grandeur. + +Mariette had a large hat on, with feathers, a black dress and +cape, and new black gloves. Her face was covered by a veil. + +When she saw Nekhludoff she lifted the veil off a very pretty +face with bright eyes that looked inquiringly at him. + +"Ah, Prince Dmitri Ivanovitch Nekhludoff," she said, with a soft, +pleasant voice. "I should have known--" + +"What! you even remember my name?" + +"I should think so. Why, I and my sisters have even been in love +with you," she said, in French. "But, dear me, how you have +altered. Oh, what a pity I have to go out. But let us go up +again," she said and stopped hesitatingly. Then she looked at the +clock. "No, I can't. I am going to Kamenskaya's to attend a mass +for the dead. She is terribly afflicted." + +"Who is this Kamenskaya?" + +"Have you not heard? Her son was killed in a duel. He fought +Posen. He was the only son. Terrible I The mother is very much +afflicted." + +"Yes. I have heard of it." + +"No, I had better go, and you must come again, to-night or +to-morrow," she said, and went to the door with quick, light +steps. + +"I cannot come to-night," he said, going out after her; "but I +have a request to make you," and he looked at the pair of bays +that were drawing up to the front door. + +"What is this?" + +"This is a letter from aunt to you," said Nekhludoff, handing her +a narrow envelope, with a large crest. "You'll find all about it +in there." + +"I know Countess Katerina Ivanovna thinks I have some influence +with my husband in business matters. She is mistaken. I can do +nothing and do not like to interfere. But, of course, for you I +am willing to be false to my principle. What is this business +about?" she said, searching in vain for her pocket with her +little black gloved hand. + +"There is a girl imprisoned in the fortress, and she is ill and +innocent." + +"What is her name?" + +"Lydia Shoustova. It's in the note." + +"All right; I'll see what I can do," she said, and lightly jumped +into her little, softly upholstered, open carriage, its +brightly-varnished splash-guards glistening in the sunshine, and +opened her parasol. The footman got on the box and gave the +coachman a sign. The carriage moved, but at that moment she +touched the coachman with her parasol and the slim-legged +beauties, the bay mares, stopped, bending their beautiful necks +and stepping from foot to foot. + +"But you must come, only, please, without interested motives," +and she looked at him with a smile, the force of which she well +knew, and, as if the performance over and she were drawing the +curtain, she dropped the veil over her face again. "All right," +and she again touched the coachman. + +Nekhludoff raised his hat, and the well-bred bays, slightly +snorting, set off, their shoes clattering on the pavement, and +the carriage rolled quickly and smoothly on its new rubber tyres, +giving a jump only now and then over some unevenness of the road. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +AN UP-TO-DATE SENATOR. + +When Nekhludoff remembered the smiles that had passed between him +and Mariette, he shook his head. + +"You have hardly time to turn round before you are again drawn +into this life," he thought, feeling that discord and those +doubts which the necessity to curry favour from people he did not +esteem caused. + +After considering where to go first, so as not to have to retrace +his steps, Nekhludoff set off for the Senate. There he was shown +into the office where he found a great many very polite and very +clean officials in the midst of a magnificent apartment. +Maslova's petition was received and handed on to that Wolf, to +whom Nekhludoff had a letter from his uncle, to be examined and +reported on. + +"There will be a meeting of the Senate this week," the official +said to Nekhludoff, "but Maslova's case will hardly come before +that meeting." + +"It might come before the meeting on Wednesday, by special +request," one of the officials remarked. + +During the time Nekhludoff waited in the office, while some +information was being taken, he heard that the conversation in +the Senate was all about the duel, and he heard a detailed +account of how a young man, Kaminski, had been killed. It was +here he first heard all the facts of the case which was exciting +the interest of all Petersburg. The story was this: Some officers +were eating oysters and, as usual, drinking very much, when one +of them said something ill-natured about the regiment to which +Kaminski belonged, and Kaminski called him a liar. The other hit +Kaminski. The next day they fought. Kaminski was wounded in the +stomach and died two hours later. The murderer and the seconds +were arrested, but it was said that though they were arrested and +in the guardhouse they would be set free in a fortnight. + +From the Senate Nekhludoff drove to see an influential member of +the petition Committee, Baron Vorobioff, who lived in a splendid +house belonging to the Crown. The doorkeeper told Nekhludoff in a +severe tone that the Baron could not be seen except on his +reception days; that he was with His Majesty the Emperor to-day, +and the next day he would again have to deliver a report. +Nekhludoff left his uncle's letter with the doorkeeper and went +on to see the Senator Wolf. Wolf had just had his lunch, and was +as usual helping digestion by smoking a cigar and pacing up and +down the room, when Nekhludoff came in. Vladimir Vasilievitch +Wolf was certainly _un homme tres comme il faut_, and prized this +quality very highly, and from that elevation he looked down at +everybody else. He could not but esteem this quality of his very +highly, because it was thanks to it alone that he had made a +brilliant career, the very career he desired, i.e., by marriage +he obtained a fortune which brought him in 18,000 roubles a year, +and by his own exertions the post of a senator. He considered +himself not only _un homme tres comme il faut_, but also a man of +knightly honour. By honour he understood not accepting secret +bribes from private persons. But he did not consider it dishonest +to beg money for payment of fares and all sorts of travelling +expenses from the Crown, and to do anything the Government might +require of him in return. To ruin hundreds of innocent people, to +cause them to be imprisoned, to be exiled because of their love +for their people and the religion of their fathers, as he had +done in one of the governments of Poland when he was governor +there. He did not consider it dishonourable, but even thought it +a noble, manly and patriotic action. Nor did he consider it +dishonest to rob his wife and sister-in-law, as he had done, but +thought it a wise way of arranging his family life. His family +consisted of his commonplace wife, his sister-in-law, whose +fortune he had appropriated by selling her estate and putting the +money to his account, and his meek, frightened, plain daughter, +who lived a lonely, weary life, from which she had lately begun +to look for relaxation in evangelicism, attending meetings at +Aline's, and the Countess Katerina Ivanovna. Wolf's son, who had +grown a beard at the age of 15, and had at that age begun to +drink and lead a depraved life, which he continued to do till the +age of 20, when he was turned out by his father because he never +finished his studies, moved in a low set and made debts which +committed the father. The father had once paid a debt of 250 +roubles for his son, then another of 600 roubles, but warned the +son that he did it for the last time, and that if the son did not +reform he would be turned out of the house and all further +intercourse between him and his family would he put a stop to. +The son did not reform, but made a debt of a thousand roubles, +and took the liberty of telling his father that life at home was +a torment anyhow. Then Wolf declared to his son that he might go +where he pleased--that he was no son of his any longer. Since +then Wolf pretended he had no son, and no one at home dared speak +to him about his son, and Vladimir Vasilievitch Wolf was firmly +convinced that he had arranged his family life in the best way. +Wolf stopped pacing up and down his study, and greeted Nekhludoff +with a friendly though slightly ironical smile. This was his way +of showing how comme il faut he was, and how superior to the +majority of men. He read the note which Nekhludoff handed to him. + +"Please take a seat, and excuse me if I continue to walk up and +down, with your permission," he said, putting his hands into his +coat pockets, and began again to walk with light, soft steps +across his large, quietly and stylishly furnished study. "Very +pleased to make your acquaintance and of course very glad to do +anything that Count Ivan Michaelovitch wishes," he said, blowing +the fragrant blue smoke out of his mouth and removing his cigar +carefully so as not to drop the ash. + +"I should only like to ask that the case might come on soon, so +that if the prisoner has to go to Siberia she might set off +early," said Nekhludoff. + +"Yes, yes, with one of the first steamers from Nijni. I know," +said Wolf, with his patronising smile, always knowing in advance +whatever one wanted to tell him. + +"What is the prisoner's name?" + +"Maslova." + +Wolf went up to the table and looked at a paper that lay on a +piece of cardboard among other business papers. + +"Yes, yes. Maslova. All right, I will ask the others. We shall +hear the case on Wednesday." + +"Then may I telegraph to the advocate?" + +"The advocate! What's that for? But if you like, why not?" + +"The causes for appeal may be insufficient," said Nekhludoff, +"but I think the case will show that the sentence was passed +owing to a misunderstanding." + +"Yes, yes; it may be so, but the Senate cannot decide the case on +its merits," said Wolf, looking seriously at the ash of his +cigar. "The Senate only considers the exactness of the +application of the laws and their right interpretation." + +"But this seems to me to be an exceptional case." + +"I know, I know! All cases are exceptional. We shall do our duty. +That's all." The ash was still holding on, but had began +breaking, and was in danger of falling. + +"Do you often come to Petersburg?" said Wolf, holding his cigar +so that the ash should not fall. But the ash began to shake, and +Wolf carefully carried it to the ashpan, into which it fell. + +"What a terrible thing this is with regard to Kaminski," he said. +"A splendid young man. The only son. Especially the mother's +position," he went on, repeating almost word for word what every +one in Petersburg was at that time saying about Kaminski. Wolf +spoke a little about the Countess Katerina Ivanovna and her +enthusiasm for the new religious teaching, which he neither +approved nor disapproved of, but which was evidently needless to +him who was so comme il faut, and then rang the bell. + +Nekhludoff bowed. + +"If it is convenient, come and dine on Wednesday, and I will give +you a decisive answer," said Wolf, extending his hand. + +It was late, and Nekhludoff returned to his aunt's. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +COUNTESS KATERINA IVANOVNA'S DINNER PARTY. + +Countess Katerina Ivanovna's dinner hour was half-past seven, and +the dinner was served in a new manner that Nekhludoff had not yet +seen anywhere. After they had placed the dishes on the table the +waiters left the room and the diners helped themselves. The men +would not let the ladies take the trouble of moving, and, as +befitted the stronger sex, they manfully took on themselves the +burden of putting the food on the ladies' plates and of filling +their glasses. When one course was finished, the Countess pressed +the button of an electric bell fitted to the table and the +waiters stepped in noiselessly and quickly carried away the +dishes, changed the plates, and brought in the next course. The +dinner was very refined, the wines very costly. A French chef was +working in the large, light kitchens, with two white-clad +assistants. There were six persons at dinner, the Count and +Countess, their son (a surly officer in the Guards who sat with +his elbows on the table), Nekhludoff, a French lady reader, and +the Count's chief steward, who had come up from the country. +Here, too, the conversation was about the duel, and opinions were +given as to how the Emperor regarded the case. It was known that +the Emperor was very much grieved for the mother's sake, and all +were grieved for her, and as it was also known that the Emperor +did not mean to be very severe to the murderer, who defended the +honour of his uniform, all were also lenient to the officer who +had defended the honour of his uniform. Only the Countess +Katerina Ivanovna, with her free thoughtlessness, expressed her +disapproval. + +"They get drunk, and kill unobjectionable young men. I should not +forgive them on any account," she said. + +"Now, that's a thing I cannot understand," said the Count. + +"I know that you never can understand what I say," the Countess +began, and turning to Nekhludoff, she added: + +"Everybody understands except my husband. I say I am sorry for +the mother, and I do not wish him to be contented, having killed +a man." Then her son, who had been silent up to then, took the +murderer's part, and rudely attacked his mother, arguing that an +officer could not behave in any other way, because his +fellow-officers would condemn him and turn him out of the +regiment. Nekhludoff listened to the conversation without joining +in. Having been an officer himself, he understood, though he did +not agree with, young Tcharsky's arguments, and at the same time +he could not help contrasting the fate of the officer with that +of a beautiful young convict whom he had seen in the prison, and +who was condemned to the mines for having killed another in a +fight. Both had turned murderers through drunkenness. The peasant +had killed a man in a moment of irritation, and he was parted +from his wife and family, had chains on his legs, and his head +shaved, and was going to hard labour in Siberia, while the +officer was sitting in a fine room in the guardhouse, eating a +good dinner, drinking good wine, and reading books, and would be +set free in a day or two to live as he had done before, having +only become more interesting by the affair. Nekhludoff said what +he had been thinking, and at first his aunt, Katerina Ivanovna, +seemed to agree with him, but at last she became silent as the +rest had done, and Nekhludoff felt that he had committed +something akin to an impropriety. In the evening, soon after +dinner, the large hall, with high-backed carved chairs arranged +in rows as for a meeting, and an armchair next to a little table, +with a bottle of water for the speaker, began to fill with people +come to hear the foreigner, Kiesewetter, preach. Elegant +equipages stopped at the front entrance. In the hall sat +richly-dressed ladies in silks and velvets and lace, with false +hair and false busts and drawn-in waists, and among them men in +uniform and evening dress, and about five persons of the common +class, i.e., two men-servants, a shop-keeper, a footman, and a +coachman. Kiesewetter, a thick-set, grisly man, spoke English, +and a thin young girl, with a pince-nez, translated it into +Russian promptly and well. He was saying that our sins were so +great, the punishment for them so great and so unavoidable, that +it was impossible to live anticipating such punishment. "Beloved +brothers and sisters, let us for a moment consider what we are +doing, how we are living, how we have offended against the +all-loving Lord, and how we make Christ suffer, and we cannot but +understand that there is no forgiveness possible for us, no +escape possible, that we are all doomed to perish. A terrible +fate awaits us---everlasting torment," he said, with tears in his +trembling voice. "Oh, how can we be saved, brothers? How can we +be saved from this terrible, unquenchable fire? The house is in +flames; there is no escape." + +He was silent for a while, and real tears flowed down his cheeks. +It was for about eight years that each time when he got to this +part of his speech, which he himself liked so well, he felt a +choking in his throat and an irritation in his nose, and the +tears came in his eyes, and these tears touched him still more. +Sobs were heard in the room. The Countess Katerina Ivanovna sat +with her elbows on an inlaid table, leaning her head on her +hands, and her shoulders were shaking. The coachman looked with +fear and surprise at the foreigner, feeling as if he was about to +run him down with the pole of his carriage and the foreigner +would not move out of his way. All sat in positions similar to +that Katerina Ivanovna had assumed. Wolf's daughter, a thin, +fashionably-dressed girl, very like her father, knelt with her +face in her hands. + +The orator suddenly uncovered his face, and smiled a very +real-looking smile, such as actors express joy with, and began +again with a sweet, gentle voice: + +"Yet there is a way to be saved. Here it is--a joyful, easy way. +The salvation is the blood shed for us by the only son of God, +who gave himself up to torments for our sake. His sufferings, His +blood, will save us. Brothers and sisters," he said, again with +tears in his voice, "let us praise the Lord, who has given His +only begotten son for the redemption of mankind. His holy blood +. . ." + +Nekhludoff felt so deeply disgusted that he rose silently, and +frowning and keeping back a groan of shame, he left on tiptoe, +and went to his room. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +OFFICIALDOM. + +Hardly had Nekhludoff finished dressing the next morning, just as +he was about to go down, the footman brought him a card from the +Moscow advocate. The advocate had come to St. Petersburg on +business of his own, and was going to be present when Maslova's +case was examined in the Senate, if that would be soon. The +telegram sent by Nekhludoff crossed him on the way. Having found +out from Nekhludoff when the case was going to be heard, and +which senators were to be present, he smiled. "Exactly, all the +three types of senators," he said. "Wolf is a Petersburg +official; Skovorodnikoff is a theoretical, and Bay a practical +lawyer, and therefore the most alive of them all," said the +advocate. "There is most hope of him. Well, and how about the +Petition Committee?" + +"Oh, I'm going to Baron Vorobioff to-day. I could not get an +audience with him yesterday." + +"Do you know why he is _Baron_ Vorobioff?" said the advocate, +noticing the slightly ironical stress that Nekhludoff put on this +foreign title, followed by so very Russian a surname. + +"That was because the Emperor Paul rewarded the grandfather--I +think he was one of the Court footmen--by giving him this title. +He managed to please him in some way, so he made him a baron. +'It's my wish, so don't gainsay me!' And so there's a _Baron_ +Vorobioff, and very proud of the title. He is a dreadful old +humbug." + +"Well, I'm going to see him," said Nekhludoff. + +"That's good; we can go together. I shall give you a lift." + +As they were going to start, a footman met Nekhludoff in the +ante-room, and handed him a note from Mariette: + +_Pour vous faire plaisir, f'ai agi tout a fait contre mes +principes et j'ai intercede aupres de mon mari pour votre +protegee. Il se trouve que cette personne pout etre relaxee +immediatement. Mon mari a ecrit au commandant. Venez donc +disinterestedly. Je vous attends._ + + _M._ + +"Just fancy!" said Nekhludoff to the advocate. "Is this not +dreadful? A woman whom they are keeping in solitary confinement +for seven months turns out to be quite innocent, and only a word +was needed to get her released." + +"That's always so. Well, anyhow, you have succeeded in getting +what you wanted." + +"Yes, but this success grieves me. Just think what must be going +on there. Why have they been keeping her?" + +"Oh, it's best not to look too deeply into it. Well, then, I +shall give you a lift, if I may," said the advocate, as they left +the house, and a fine carriage that the advocate had hired drove +up to the door. "It's Baron Vorobioff you are going to see?" + +The advocate gave the driver his directions, and the two good +horses quickly brought Nekhludoff to the house in which the Baron +lived. The Baron was at home. A young official in uniform, with a +long, thin neck, a much protruding Adam's apple, and an extremely +light walk, and two ladies were in the first room. + +"Your name, please?" the young man with the Adam's apple asked, +stepping with extreme lightness and grace across from the ladies +to Nekhludoff. + +Nekhludoff gave his name. + +"The Baron was just mentioning you," said the young man, the +Baron's adjutant, and went out through an inner door. He +returned, leading a weeping lady dressed in mourning. With her +bony fingers the lady was trying to pull her tangled veil over +her face in order to hide her tears. + +"Come in, please," said the young man to Nekhludoff, lightly +stepping up to the door of the study and holding it open. When +Nekhludoff came in, he saw before him a thick-set man of medium +height, with short hair, in a frock coat, who was sitting in an +armchair opposite a large writing-table, and looking gaily in +front of himself. The kindly, rosy red face, striking by its +contrast with the white hair, moustaches, and beard, turned +towards Nekhludoff with a friendly smile. + +"Very glad to see you. Your mother and I were old acquaintances +and friends. I have seen you as a boy, and later on as an +officer. Sit down and tell me what I can do for you. Yes, yes," +he said, shaking his cropped white head, while Nekhludoff was +telling him Theodosia's story. "Go on, go on. I quite understand. +It is certainly very touching. And have you handed in the +petition?" + +"I have got the petition ready," Nekhludoff said, getting it out +of his pocket; "but I thought of speaking to you first in hopes +that the case would then get special attention paid to it." + +"You have done very well. I shall certainly report it myself," +said the Baron, unsuccessfully trying to put an expression of +pity on his merry face. "Very touching! It is clear she was but a +child; the husband treated her roughly, this repelled her, but as +time went on they fell in love with each other. Yes I will report +the case." + +"Count Ivan Michaelovitch was also going to speak about it." + +Nekhludoff had hardly got these words out when the Baron's face +changed. + +"You had better hand in the petition into the office, after all, +and I shall do what I can," he said. + +At this moment the young official again entered the room, +evidently showing off his elegant manner of walking. + +"That lady is asking if she may say a few words more." + +"Well, ask her in. Ah, mon cher, how many tears we have to see +shed! If only we could dry them all. One does all that lies +within one's power." + +The lady entered. + +"I forgot to ask you that he should not be allowed to give up the +daughter, because he is ready . . ." + +"But I have already told you that I should do all I can." + +"Baron, for the love of God! You will save the mother?" + +She seized his hand, and began kissing it. + +"Everything shall be done." + +When the lady went out Nekhludoff also began to take leave. + +"We shall do what we can. I shall speak about it at the Ministry +of Justice, and when we get their answer we shall do what we +can." + +Nekhludoff left the study, and went into the office again. Just +as in the Senate office, he saw, in a splendid apartment, a +number of very elegant officials, clean, polite, severely correct +and distinguished in dress and in speech. + +"How many there are of them; how very many and how well fed they +all look! And what clean shirts and hands they all have, and how +well all their boots are polished! Who does it for them? How +comfortable they all are, as compared not only with the +prisoners, but even with the peasants!" These thoughts again +involuntarily came to Nekhludoff's mind. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +AN OLD GENERAL OF REPUTE. + +The man on whom depended the easing of the fate of the Petersburg +prisoners was an old General of repute--a baron of German +descent, who, as it was said of him, had outlived his wits. He +had received a profusion of orders, but only wore one of them, +the Order of the White Cross. He had received this order, which +he greatly valued, while serving in the Caucasus, because a +number of Russian peasants, with their hair cropped, and dressed +in uniform and armed with guns and bayonets, had killed at his +command more than a thousand men who were defending their +liberty, their homes, and their families. Later on he served in +Poland, and there also made Russian peasants commit many +different crimes, and got more orders and decorations for his +uniform. Then he served somewhere else, and now that he was a +weak, old man he had this position, which insured him a good +house, an income and respect. He strictly observed all the +regulations which were prescribed "from above," and was very +zealous in the fulfilment of these regulations, to which he +ascribed a special importance, considering that everything else +in the world might be changed except the regulations prescribed +"from above." His duty was to keep political prisoners, men and +women, in solitary confinement in such a way that half of them +perished in 10 years' time, some going out of their minds, some +dying of consumption, some committing suicide by starving +themselves to death, cutting their veins with bits of glass, +hanging, or burning themselves to death. + +The old General was not ignorant of this; it all happened within +his knowledge; but these cases no more touched his conscience +than accidents brought on by thunderstorms, floods, etc. These +cases occurred as a consequence of the fulfilment of regulations +prescribed "from above" by His Imperial Majesty. These +regulations had to be carried out without fail, and therefore it +was absolutely useless to think of the consequences of their +fulfilment. The old General did not even allow himself to think +of such things, counting it his patriotic duty as a soldier not +to think of them for fear of getting weak in the carrying out of +these, according to his opinion, very important obligations. Once +a week the old General made the round of the cells, one of the +duties of his position, and asked the prisoners if they had any +requests to make. The prisoners had all sorts of requests. He +listened to them quietly, in impenetrable silence, and never +fulfilled any of their requests, because they were all in +disaccord with the regulations. Just as Nekhludoff drove up to +the old General's house, the high notes of the bells on the +belfry clock chimed "Great is the Lord," and then struck two. The +sound of these chimes brought back to Nekhludoff's mind what he +had read in the notes of the Decembrists [the Decembrists were a +group who attempted, but failed, to put an end to absolutism in +Russia at the time of the accession of Nicholas the First] about +the way this sweet music repeated every hour re-echoes in the +hearts of those imprisoned for life. + +Meanwhile the old General was sitting in his darkened +drawing-room at an inlaid table, turning a saucer on a piece of +paper with the aid of a young artist, the brother of one of his +subordinates. The thin, weak, moist fingers of the artist were +pressed against the wrinkled and stiff-jointed fingers of the old +General, and the hands joined in this manner were moving together +with the saucer over a paper that had all the letters of the +alphabet written on it. The saucer was answering the questions +put by the General as to how souls will recognise each other +after death. + +When Nekhludoff sent in his card by an orderly acting as footman, +the soul of Joan of Arc was speaking by the aid of the saucer. +The soul of Joan of Arc had already spelt letter by letter the +words: "They well knew each other," and these words had been +written down. When the orderly came in the saucer had stopped +first on b, then on y, and began jerking hither and thither. This +jerking was caused by the General's opinion that the next letter +should be b, i.e., Joan of Arc ought to say that the souls will +know each other by being cleansed of all that is earthly, or +something of the kind, clashing with the opinion of the artist, +who thought the next letter should be l, i.e., that the souls +should know each other by light emanating from their astral +bodies. The General, with his bushy grey eyebrows gravely +contracted, sat gazing at the hands on the saucer, and, imagining +that it was moving of its own accord, kept pulling the saucer +towards b. The pale-faced young artist, with his thin hair combed +back behind his cars, was looking with his lifeless blue eyes +into a dark corner of the drawing-room, nervously moving his lips +and pulling the saucer towards l. + +The General made a wry face at the interruption, but after a +moment's pause he took the card, put on his pince-nez, and, +uttering a groan, rose, in spite of the pain in his back, to his +full height, rubbing his numb fingers. + +"Ask him into the study." + +"With your excellency's permission I will finish it alone," said +the artist, rising. "I feel the presence." + +"All right, finish alone," the General said, severely and +decidedly, and stepped quickly, with big, firm and measured +strides, into his study. + +"Very pleased to see you," said the General to Nekhludoff, +uttering the friendly words in a gruff tone, and pointing to an +armchair by the side of the writing-table. "Have you been in +Petersburg long?" + +Nekhludoff replied that he had only lately arrived. + +"Is the Princess, your mother, well?" + +"My mother is dead." + +"Forgive me; I am very sorry. My son told me he had met you." + +The General's son was making the same kind of career for himself +that the father had done, and, having passed the Military +Academy, was now serving in the Inquiry Office, and was very +proud of his duties there. His occupation was the management of +Government spies. + +"Why, I served with your father. We were friends--comrades. And +you; are you also in the Service?" + +"No, I am not." + +The General bent his head disapprovingly. + +"I have a request to make, General." + +"Very pleased. In what way can I be of service to you?" + +"If my request is out of place pray pardon me. But I am obliged +to make it." + +"What is it?" + +"There is a certain Gourkevitch imprisoned in the fortress; his +mother asks for an interview with him, or at least to be allowed +to send him some books." + +The General expressed neither satisfaction nor dissatisfaction at +Nekhludoff's request, but bending his head on one side he closed +his eyes as if considering. In reality he was not considering +anything, and was not even interested in Nekhludoff's questions, +well knowing that he would answer them according to the law. He +was simply resting mentally and not thinking at all. + +"You see," he said at last, "this does not depend on me. There is +a regulation, confirmed by His Majesty, concerning interviews; +and as to books, we have a library, and they may have what is +permitted." + +"Yes, but he wants scientific books; he wishes to study." + +"Don't you believe it," growled the General. "It's not study he +wants; it is just only restlessness." + +"But what is to be done? They must occupy their time somehow in +their hard condition," said Nekhludoff. + +"They are always complaining," said the General. "We know them." + +He spoke of them in a general way, as if they were all a +specially bad race of men. "They have conveniences here which can +be found in few places of confinement," said the General, and he +began to enumerate the comforts the prisoners enjoyed, as if the +aim of the institution was to give the people imprisoned there a +comfortable home. + +"It is true it used to be rather rough, but now they are very +well kept here," he continued. "They have three courses for +dinner--and one of them meat--cutlets, or rissoles; and on +Sundays they get a fourth--a sweet dish. God grant every Russian +may eat as well as they do." + +Like all old people, the General, having once got on to a +familiar topic, enumerated the various proofs he had often given +before of the prisoners being exacting and ungrateful. + +"They get books on spiritual subjects and old journals. We have a +library. Only they rarely read. At first they seem interested, +later on the new books remain uncut, and the old ones with their +leaves unturned. We tried them," said the old General, with the +dim likeness of a smile. "We put bits of paper in on purpose, +which remained just as they had been placed. Writing is also not +forbidden," he continued. "A slate is provided, and a slate +pencil, so that they can write as a pastime. They can wipe the +slate and write again. But they don't write, either. Oh, they +very soon get quite tranquil. At first they seem restless, but +later on they even grow fat and become very quiet." Thus spoke +the General, never suspecting the terrible meaning of his words. + +Nekhludoff listened to the hoarse old voice, looked at the stiff +limbs, the swollen eyelids under the grey brows, at the old, +clean-shaved, flabby jaw, supported by the collar of the military +uniform, at the white cross that this man was so proud of, +chiefly because he had gained it by exceptionally cruel and +extensive slaughter, and knew that it was useless to reply to the +old man or to explain the meaning of his own words to him. + +He made another effort, and asked about the prisoner Shoustova, +for whose release, as he had been informed that morning, orders +were given. + +"Shoustova--Shoustova? I cannot remember all their names, there +are so many of them," he said, as if reproaching them because +there were so many. He rang, and ordered the secretary to be +called. While waiting for the latter, he began persuading +Nekhludoff to serve, saying that "honest noblemen," counting +himself among the number, "were particularly needed by the Tsar +and--the country," he added, evidently only to round off his +sentence. "I am old, yet I am serving still, as well as my +strength allows." + +The secretary, a dry, emaciated man, with restless, intelligent +eyes, came in and reported that Shoustova was imprisoned in some +queer, fortified place, and that he had received no orders +concerning her. + +"When we get the order we shall let her out the same day. We do +not keep them; we do not value their visits much," said the +General, with another attempt at a playful smile, which only +distorted his old face. + +Nekhludoff rose, trying to keep from expressing the mixed +feelings of repugnance and pity which he felt towards this +terrible old man. The old man on his part considered that he +should not be too severe on the thoughtless and evidently +misguided son of his old comrade, and should not leave him +without advice. + +"Good-bye, my dear fellow; do not take it amiss. It is my +affection that makes me say it. Do not keep company with such +people as we have at our place here. There are no innocent ones +among them. All these people are most immoral. We know them," he +said, in a tone that admitted no possibility of doubt. And he did +not doubt, not because the thing was so, but because if it was +not so, he would have to admit himself to be not a noble hero +living out the last days of a good life, but a scoundrel, who +sold, and still continued in his old age to sell, his conscience. + +"Best of all, go and serve," he continued; "the Tsar needs honest +men--and the country," he added. "Well, supposing I and the +others refused to serve, as you are doing? Who would be left? +Here we are, finding fault with the order of things, and yet not +wishing to help the Government." + +With a deep sigh Nekhludoff made a low bow, shook the large, bony +hand condescendingly stretched out to him and left the room. + +The General shook his head reprovingly, and rubbing his back, he +again went into the drawing-room where the artist was waiting for +him. He had already written down the answer given by the soul of +Joan of Arc. The General put on his pince-nez and read, "Will +know one another by light emanating from their astral bodies." + +"Ah," said the General, with approval, and closed his eyes. "But +how is one to know if the light of all is alike?" he asked, and +again crossed fingers with the artist on the saucer. + +The isvostchik drove Nekhludoff out of the gate. + +It is dull here, sir, he said, turning to Nekhludoff. "I almost +wished to drive off without waiting for you." + +Nekhludoff agreed. "Yes, it is dull," and he took a deep breath, +and looked up with a sense of relief at the grey clouds that were +floating in the sky, and at the glistening ripples made by the +boats and steamers on the Neva. + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +MASLOVA'S APPEAL. + +The next day Maslova's case was to be examined at the Senate, and +Nekhludoff and the advocate met at the majestic portal of the +building, where several carriages were waiting. Ascending the +magnificent and imposing staircase to the first floor, the +advocate, who knew all the ins and outs of the place, turned to +the left and entered through a door which had the date of the +introduction of the Code of Laws above it. + +After taking off his overcoat in the first narrow room, he found +out from the attendant that the Senators had all arrived, and +that the last had just come in. Fanarin, in his swallow-tail +coat, a white tie above the white shirt-front, and a +self-confident smile on his lips, passed into the next room. In +this room there were to the right a large cupboard and a table, +and to the left a winding staircase, which an elegant official in +uniform was descending with a portfolio under his arm. In this +room an old man with long, white hair and a patriarchal +appearance attracted every one's attention. He wore a short coat +and grey trousers. Two attendants stood respectfully beside him. +The old man with white hair entered the cupboard and shut himself +in. + +Fanarin noticed a fellow-advocate dressed in the same way as +himself, with a white tie and dress coat, and at once entered +into an animated conversation with him. + +Nekhludoff was meanwhile examining the people in the room. The +public consisted of about 15 persons, of whom two were ladies--a +young one with a pince-nez, and an old, grey-haired one. + +A case of libel was to be heard that day, and therefore the +public were more numerous than usual--chiefly persons belonging +to the journalistic world. + +The usher, a red-cheeked, handsome man in a fine uniform, came up +to Fanarin and asked him what his business was. When he heard +that it was the case of Maslova, he noted something down and +walked away. Then the cupboard door opened and the old man with +the patriarchal appearance stepped out, no longer in a short coat +but in a gold-trimmed attire, which made him look like a bird, +and with metal plates on his breast. This funny costume seemed to +make the old man himself feel uncomfortable, and, walking faster +than his wont, he hurried out of the door opposite the entrance. + +"That is Bay, a most estimable man," Fanarin said to Nekhludoff, +and then having introduced him to his colleague, he explained the +case that was about to be heard, which he considered very +interesting. + +The hearing of the case soon commenced, and Nekhludoff, with the +public, entered the left side of the Senate Chamber. They all, +including Fanarin, took their places behind a grating. Only the +Petersburg advocate went up to a desk in front of the grating. + +The Senate Chamber was not so big as the Criminal Court; and was +more simply furnished, only the table in front of the senators +was covered with crimson, gold-trimmed velvet, instead of green +cloth; but the attributes of all places of judgment, i.e., the +mirror of justice, the icon, the emblem of hypocrisy, and the +Emperor's portrait, the emblem of servility, were there. + +The usher announced, in the same solemn manner: "The Court is +coming." Every one rose in the same way, and the senators entered +in their uniforms and sat down on highbacked chairs and leant on +the table, trying to appear natural, just in the same way as the +judges in the Court of Law. There were four senators +present--Nikitin, who took the chair, a clean-shaved man with a +narrow face and steely eyes; Wolf, with significantly compressed +lips, and little white hands, with which he kept turning over the +pages of the business papers; Skovorodnikoff, a heavy, fat, +pockmarked man--the learned lawyer; and Bay, the +patriarchal-looking man who had arrived last. + +With the advocates entered the chief secretary and public +prosecutor, a lean, clean-shaven young man of medium height, a +very dark complexion, and sad, black eyes. Nekhludoff knew him at +once, in spite of his curious uniform and the fact that he had +not seen him for six years. He had been one of his best friends +in Nekhludoff's student days. + +"The public prosecutor Selenin?" Nekhludoff asked, turning to the +advocate. + +"Yes. Why?" + +"I know him well. He is a fine fellow." + +"And a good public prosecutor; business-like. Now he is the man +you should have interested." + +"He will act according to his conscience in any case," said +Nekhludoff, recalling the intimate relations and friendship +between himself and Selenin, and the attractive qualities of the +latter--purity, honesty, and good breeding in its best sense. + +"Yes, there is no time now," whispered Fanarin, who was +listening to the report of the case that had commenced. + +The Court of Justice was accused of having left a decision of the +Court of Law unaltered. + +Nekhludoff listened and tried to make out the meaning of what was +going on; but, just as in the Criminal Court, his chief +difficulty was that not the evidently chief point, but some side +issues, were being discussed. The case was that of a newspaper +which had published the account of a swindle arranged by a +director of a limited liability company. It seemed that the only +important question was whether the director of the company really +abused his trust, and how to stop him from doing it. But the +questions under consideration were whether the editor had a right +to publish this article of his contributor, and what he had been +guilty of in publishing it: slander or libel, and in what way +slander included libel, or libel included slander, and something +rather incomprehensible to ordinary people about all sorts of +statutes and resolutions passed by some General Department. + +The only thing clear to Nekhludoff was that, in spite of what +Wolf had so strenuously insisted on, the day before, i.e., that +the Senate could not try a case on its merits, in this case he +was evidently strongly in favour of repealing the decision of the +Court of Justice, and that Selenin, in spite of his +characteristic reticence, stated the opposite opinion with quite +unexpected warmth. The warmth, which surprised Nekhludoff, +evinced by the usually self-controlled Selenin, was due to his +knowledge of the director's shabbiness in money matters, and the +fact, which had accidentally come to his cars, that Wolf had been +to a swell dinner party at the swindler's house only a few days +before. + +Now that Wolf spoke on the case, guardedly enough, but with +evident bias, Selenin became excited, and expressed his opinion +with too much nervous irritation for an ordinary business +transaction. + +It was clear that Selenin's speech had offended Wolf. He grew +red, moved in his chair, made silent gestures of surprise, and at +last rose, with a very dignified and injured look, together with +the other senators, and went out into the debating-room. + +"What particular case have you come about?" the usher asked +again, addressing Fanarin. + +"I have already told you: Maslova's case." + +"Yes, quite so. It is to be heard to-day, but--" + +"But what?" the advocate asked. + +"Well, you see, this case was to be examined without taking +sides, so that the senators will hardly come out again after +passing the resolution. But I will inform them." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I'll inform them; I'll inform them." And the usher again put +something down on his paper. + +The Senators really meant to pronounce their decision concerning +the libel case, and then to finish the other business, Maslova's +case among it, over their tea and cigarettes, without leaving the +debating-room. + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +THE APPEAL DISMISSED. + +As soon as the Senators were seated round the table in the +debating-room, Wolf began to bring forward with great animation +all the motives in favour of a repeal. The chairman, an +ill-natured man at best, was in a particularly bad humour that +day. His thoughts were concentrated on the words he had written +down in his memoranda on the occasion when not he but Viglanoff +was appointed to the important post he had long coveted. It was +the chairman, Nikitin's, honest conviction that his opinions of +the officials of the two upper classes with which he was in +connection would furnish valuable material for the historians. He +had written a chapter the day before in which the officials of +the upper classes got it hot for preventing him, as he expressed +it, from averting the ruin towards which the present rulers of +Russia were driving it, which simply meant that they had prevented +his getting a better salary. And now he was considering what a +new light to posterity this chapter would shed on events. + +"Yes, certainly," he said, in reply to the words addressed to him +by Wolf, without listening to them. + +Bay was listening to Wolf with a sad face and drawing a garland +on the paper that lay before him. Bay was a Liberal of the very +first water. He held sacred the Liberal traditions of the sixth +decade of this century, and if he ever overstepped the limits of +strict neutrality it was always in the direction of Liberalism. +So in this case; beside the fact that the swindling director, who +was prosecuting for libel, was a bad lot, the prosecution of a +journalist for libel in itself tending, as it did, to restrict +the freedom of the press, inclined Bay to reject the appeal. + +When Wolf concluded his arguments Bay stopped drawing his garland +and began in a sad and gentle voice (he was sad because he was +obliged to demonstrate such truisms) concisely, simply and +convincingly to show how unfounded the accusation was, and then, +bending his white head, he continued drawing his garland. + +Skovorodnikoff, who sat opposite Wolf, and, with his fat fingers, +kept shoving his beard and moustaches into his mouth, stopped +chewing his beard as soon as Bay was silent, and said with a +loud, grating voice, that, notwithstanding the fact of the +director being a terrible scoundrel, he would have been for the +repeal of the sentence if there were any legal reasons for it; +but, as there were none, he was of Bay's opinion. He was glad to +put this spoke in Wolf's wheel. + +The chairman agreed with Skovorodnikoff, and the appeal was +rejected. + +Wolf was dissatisfied, especially because it was like being +caught acting with dishonest partiality; so he pretended to be +indifferent, and, unfolding the document which contained +Maslova's case, he became engrossed in it. Meanwhile the Senators +rang and ordered tea, and began talking about the event that, +together with the duel, was occupying the Petersburgers. + +It was the case of the chief of a Government department, who was +accused of the crime provided for in Statute 995. + +"What nastiness," said Bay, with disgust. + +"Why; where is the harm of it? I can show you a Russian book +containing the project of a German writer, who openly proposes +that it should not be considered a crime," said Skovorodnikoff, +drawing in greedily the fumes of the crumpled cigarette, which he +held between his fingers close to the palm, and he laughed +boisterously. + +"Impossible!" said Bay. + +"I shall show it you," said Skovorodnikoff, giving the full title +of the book, and even its date and the name of its editor. + +"I hear he has been appointed governor to some town in Siberia." + +"That's fine. The archdeacon will meet him with a crucifix. They +ought to appoint an archdeacon of the same sort," said +Skovorodnikoff. "I could recommend them one," and he threw the +end of his cigarette into his saucer, and again shoved as much of +his beard and moustaches as he could into his mouth and began +chewing them. + +The usher came in and reported the advocate's and Nekhludoff's +desire to be present at the examination of Maslova's case. + +"This case," Wolf said, "is quite romantic," and he told them +what he knew about Nekhludoff's relations with Maslova. When they +had spoken a little about it and finished their tea and +cigarettes, the Senators returned into the Senate Chamber and +proclaimed their decision in the libel case, and began to hear +Maslova's case. + +Wolf, in his thin voice, reported Maslova's appeal very fully, +but again not without some bias and an evident wish for the +repeal of the sentence. + +"Have you anything to add?" the chairman said, turning to +Fanarin. Fanarin rose, and standing with his broad white chest +expanded, proved point by point, with wonderful exactness and +persuasiveness, how the Court had in six points strayed from the +exact meaning of the law; and besides this he touched, though +briefly, on the merits of the case, and on the crying injustice +of the sentence. The tone of his speech was one of apology to the +Senators, who, with their penetration and judicial wisdom, could +not help seeing and understanding it all better than he could. He +was obliged to speak only because the duty he had undertaken +forced him to do so. + +After Fanarin's speech one might have thought that there could +not remain the least doubt that the Senate ought to repeal the +decision of the Court. When he had finished his speech, Fanarin +looked round with a smile of triumph, seeing which Nekhludoff +felt certain that the case was won. But when he looked at the +Senators he saw that Fanarin smiled and triumphed all alone. The +Senators and the Public Prosecutor did not smile nor triumph, but +looked like people wearied, and who were thinking "We have often +heard the like of you; it is all in vain," and were only too glad +when he stopped and ceased uselessly detaining them there. +Immediately after the end of the advocate's speech the chairman +turned to the Public Prosecutor. Selenin briefly and clearly +expressed himself in favour of leaving the decision of the Court +unaltered, as he considered all the reasons for appealing +inadequate. After this the Senators went out into the +debating-room. They were divided in their opinions. Wolf was in +favour of altering the decision. Bay, when he had understood the +case, took up the same side with fervour, vividly presenting the +scene at the court to his companions as he clearly saw it +himself. Nikitin, who always was on the side of severity and +formality, took up the other side. All depended on +Skovorodnikoff's vote, and he voted for rejecting the appeal, +because Nekhludoff's determination to marry the woman on moral +grounds was extremely repugnant to him. + +Skovorodnikoff was a materialist, a Darwinian, and counted every +manifestation of abstract morality, or, worse still, religion, +not only as a despicable folly, but as a personal affront to +himself. All this bother about a prostitute, and the presence of +a celebrated advocate and Nekhludoff in the Senate were in the +highest degree repugnant to him. So he shoved his beard into his +mouth and made faces, and very skilfully pretended to know +nothing of this case, excepting that the reasons for an appeal +were insufficient, and that he, therefore, agreed with the +chairman to leave the decision of the Court unaltered. + +So the sentence remained unrepealed. + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +AN OLD FRIEND. + +"Terrible," said Nekhludoff, as he went out into the waiting-room +with the advocate, who was arranging the papers in his portfolio. +"In a matter which is perfectly clear they attach all the +importance to the form and reject the appeal. Terrible!" + +"The case was spoiled in the Criminal Court," said the advocate. + +"And Selenin, too, was in favour of the rejection. Terrible! +terrible!" Nekhludoff repeated. "What is to be done now?" + +"We will appeal to His Majesty, and you can hand in the petition +yourself while you are here. I will write it for you." + +At this moment little Wolf, with his stars and uniform, came out +into the waiting-room and approached Nekhludoff. "It could not be +helped, dear Prince. The reasons for an appeal were not +sufficient," he said, shrugging his narrow shoulders and closing +his eyes, and then he went his way. + +After Wolf, Selenin came out too, having heard from the Senators +that his old friend Nekhludoff was there. + +"Well, I never expected to see you here," he said, coming up to +Nekhludoff, and smiling only with his lips while his eyes +remained sad. "I did not know you were in Petersburg." + +"And I did not know you were Public Prosecutor-in-Chief." + +"How is it you are in the Senate?" asked Selenin. "I had heard, +by the way, that you were in Petersburg. But what are you doing +here?" + +"Here? I am here because I hoped to find justice and save a woman +innocently condemned." + +"What woman?" + +"The one whose case has just been decided." + +"Oh! Maslova's case," said Selenin, suddenly remembering it. "The +appeal had no grounds whatever." + +"It is not the appeal; it's the woman who is innocent, and is +being punished." + +Selenin sighed. "That may well be, but----" + +"Not _may be_, but is." + +"How do you know?" + +"Because I was on the jury. I know how we made the mistake." + +Selenin became thoughtful. "You should have made a statement at +the time," he said. + +"I did make the statement." + +"It should have been put down in an official report. If this had +been added to the petition for the appeal--" + +"Yes, but still, as it is, the verdict is evidently absurd." + +"The Senate has no right to say so. If the Senate took upon +itself to repeal the decision of the law courts according to its +own views as to the justice of the decisions in themselves, the +verdict of the jury would lose all its meaning, not to mention +that the Senate would have no basis to go upon, and would run the +risk of infringing justice rather than upholding it," said +Selenin, calling to mind the case that had just been heard. + +"All I know is that this woman is quite innocent, and that the +last hope of saving her from an unmerited punishment is gone. The +grossest injustice has been confirmed by the highest court." + +"It has not been confirmed. The Senate did not and cannot enter +into the merits of the case in itself," said Selenin. Always busy +and rarely going out into society, he had evidently heard nothing +of Nekhludoff's romance. Nekhludoff noticed it, and made up his +mind that it was best to say nothing about his special relations +with Maslova. + +"You are probably staying with your aunt," Selenin remarked, +apparently wishing to change the subject. "She told me you were +here yesterday, and she invited me to meet you in the evening, +when some foreign preacher was to lecture," and Selenin again +smiled only with his lips. + +"Yes, I was there, but left in disgust," said Nekhludoff angrily, +vexed that Selenin had changed the subject. + +"Why with disgust? After all, it is a manifestation of religious +feeling, though one-sided and sectarian," said Selenin. + +"Why, it's only some kind of whimsical folly." + +"Oh, dear, no. The curious thing is that we know the teaching of +our church so little that we see some new kind of revelation in +what are, after all, our own fundamental dogmas," said Selenin, +as if hurrying to let his old friend know his new views. + +Nekhludoff looked at Selenin scrutinisingly and with surprise, +and Selenin dropped his eyes, in which appeared an expression not +only of sadness but also of ill-will. + +"Do you, then, believe in the dogmas of the church?" Nekhludoff +asked. + +"Of course I do," replied Selenin, gazing straight into +Nekhludoff's eyes with a lifeless look. + +Nekhludoff sighed. "It is strange," he said. + +"However, we shall have a talk some other time," said Selenin. +"I am coming," he added, in answer to the usher, who had +respectfully approached him. "Yes, we must meet again," he went +on with a sigh. "But will it be possible for me to find you? You +will always find me in at seven o'clock. My address is +Nadejdinskaya," and he gave the number. "Ah, time does not stand +still," and he turned to go, smiling only with his lips. + +"I will come if I can," said Nekhludoff, feeling that a man once +near and dear to him had, by this brief conversation, suddenly +become strange, distant, and incomprehensible, if not hostile to +him. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +THE PUBLIC PROSECUTOR. + +When Nekhludoff knew Selenin as a student, he was a good son, a +true friend, and for his years an educated man of the world, with +much tact; elegant, handsome, and at the same time truthful and +honest. He learned well, without much exertion and with no +pedantry, receiving gold medals for his essays. He considered the +service of mankind, not only in words but in acts, to be the aim +of his young life. He saw no other way of being useful to +humanity than by serving the State. Therefore, as soon as he had +completed his studies, he systematically examined all the +activities to which he might devote his life, and decided to +enter the Second Department of the Chancellerie, where the laws +are drawn up, and he did so. But, in spite of the most scrupulous +and exact discharge of the duties demanded of him, this service +gave no satisfaction to his desire of being useful, nor could he +awake in himself the consciousness that he was doing "the right +thing." + +This dissatisfaction was so much increased by the friction with +his very small-minded and vain fellow officials that he left the +Chancellerie and entered the Senate. It was better there, but the +same dissatisfaction still pursued him; he felt it to be very +different from what he had expected, and from what ought to be. + +And now that he was in the Senate his relatives obtained for him +the post of Gentleman of the Bedchamber, and he had to go in a +carriage, dressed in an embroidered uniform and a white linen +apron, to thank all sorts of people for having placed him in the +position of a lackey. However much he tried he could find no +reasonable explanation for the existence of this post, and felt, +more than in the Senate, that it was not "the right thing," and +yet he could not refuse it for fear of hurting those who felt +sure they were giving him much pleasure by this appointment, and +because it flattered the lowest part of his nature. It pleased +him to see himself in a mirror in his gold-embroidered uniform, +and to accept the deference paid him by some people because of +his position. + +Something of the same kind happened when he married. A very +brilliant match, from a worldly point of view, was arranged for +him, and he married chiefly because by refusing he would have had +to hurt the young lady who wished to be married to him, and those +who arranged the marriage, and also because a marriage with a +nice young girl of noble birth flattered his vanity and gave him +pleasure. But this marriage very soon proved to be even less "the +right thing" than the Government service and his position at +Court. + +After the birth of her first child the wife decided to have no +more, and began leading that luxurious worldly life in which he +now had to participate whether he liked or not. + +She was not particularly handsome, and was faithful to him, and +she seemed, in spite of all the efforts it cost her, to derive +nothing but weariness from the life she led, yet she +perseveringly continued to live it, though it was poisoning her +husband's life. And all his efforts to alter this life was +shattered, as against a stone wall, by her conviction, which all +her friends and relatives supported, that all was as it should +be. + +The child, a little girl with bare legs and long golden curls, +was a being perfectly foreign to him, chiefly because she was +trained quite otherwise than he wished her to be. There sprung up +between the husband and wife the usual misunderstanding, without +even the wish to understand each other, and then a silent +warfare, hidden from outsiders and tempered by decorum. All this +made his life at home a burden, and became even less "the right +thing" than his service and his post. + +But it was above all his attitude towards religion which was not +"the right thing." Like every one of his set and his time, by the +growth of his reason he broke without the least effort the nets +of the religious superstitions in which he was brought up, and +did not himself exactly know when it was that he freed himself of +them. Being earnest and upright, he did not, during his youth and +intimacy with Nekhludoff as a student, conceal his rejection of +the State religion. But as years went on and he rose in the +service, and especially at the time of the reaction towards +conservatism in society, his spiritual freedom stood in his way. + +At home, when his father died, he had to be present at the masses +said for his soul, and his mother wished him to go to confession +or to communion, and it was in a way expected, by public opinion, +but above all, Government service demanded that he should be +present at all sorts of services, consecrations, thanksgivings, +and the like. Hardly a day passed without some outward religious +form having to be observed. + +When present at these services he had to pretend that he believed +in something which he did not believe in, and being truthful he +could not do this. The alternative was, having made up his mind +that all these outward signs were deceitful, to alter his life in +such a way that he would not have to be present at such +ceremonials. But to do what seemed so simple would have cost a +great deal. Besides encountering the perpetual hostility of all +those who were near to him, he would have to give up the service +and his position, and sacrifice his hopes of being useful to +humanity by his service, now and in the future. To make such a +sacrifice one would have to be firmly convinced of being right. + +And he was firmly convinced he was right, as no educated man of +our time can help being convinced who knows a little history and +how the religions, and especially Church Christianity, +originated. + +But under the stress of his daily life he, a truthful man, +allowed a little falsehood to creep in. He said that in order to +do justice to an unreasonable thing one had to study the +unreasonable thing. It was a little falsehood, but it sunk him +into the big falsehood in which he was now caught. + +Before putting to himself the question whether the orthodoxy in +which he was born and bred, and which every one expected him to +accept, and without which he could not continue his useful +occupation, contained the truth, he had already decided the +answer. And to clear up the question he did not read Voltaire, +Schopenhauer, Herbert Spencer, or Comte, but the philosophical +works of Hegel and the religious works of Vinet and Khomyakoff, +and naturally found in them what he wanted, i.e., something like +peace of mind and a vindication of that religious teaching in +which he was educated, which his reason had long ceased to +accept, but without which his whole life was filled with +unpleasantness which could all be removed by accepting the +teaching. + +And so he adopted all the usual sophistries which go to prove +that a single human reason cannot know the truth, that the truth +is only revealed to an association of men, and can only be known +by revelation, that revelation is kept by the church, etc. And so +he managed to be present at prayers, masses for the dead, to +confess, make signs of the cross in front of icons, with a quiet +mind, without being conscious of the lie, and to continue in the +service which gave him the feeling of being useful and some +comfort in his joyless family life. Although he believed this, he +felt with his entire being that this religion of his, more than +all else, was not "the right thing," and that is why his eyes +always looked sad. + +And seeing Nekhludoff, whom he had known before all these lies +had rooted themselves within him, reminded him of what he then +was. It was especially after he had hurried to hint at his +religious views that he had most strongly felt all this "not the +right thing," and had become painfully sad. Nekhludoff felt it +also after the first joy of meeting his old friend had passed, +and therefore, though they promised each other to meet, they did +not take any steps towards an interview, and did not again see +each other during this stay of Nekhludoff's in Petersburg. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +MARIETTE TEMPTS NEKHLUDOFF. + +When they left the Senate, Nekhludoff and the advocate walked on +together, the advocate having given the driver of his carriage +orders to follow them. The advocate told Nekhludoff the story of +the chief of a Government department, about whom the Senators had +been talking: how the thing was found out, and how the man, who +according to law should have been sent to the mines, had been +appointed Governor of a town in Siberia. Then he related with +particular pleasure how several high-placed persons stole a lot +of money collected for the erection of the still unfinished +monument which they had passed that morning; also, how the +mistress of So-and-so got a lot of money at the Stock Exchange, +and how So-and-so agreed with So-and-so to sell him his wife. The +advocate began another story about a swindle, and all sorts of +crimes committed by persons in high places, who, instead of being +in prison, sat on presidential chairs in all sorts of Government +institutions. These tales, of which the advocate seemed to have +an unending supply, gave him much pleasure, showing as they did, +with perfect clearness, that his means of getting money were +quite just and innocent compared to the means which the highest +officials in Petersburg made use of. The advocate was therefore +surprised when Nekhludoff took an isvostchik before hearing the +end of the story, said good-bye, and left him. Nekhludoff felt +very sad. It was chiefly the rejection of the appeal by the +Senate, confirming the senseless torments that the innocent +Maslova was enduring, that saddened him, and also the fact that +this rejection made it still harder for him to unite his fate +with hers. The stories about existing evils, which the advocate +recounted with such relish, heightened his sadness, and so did +the cold, unkind look that the once sweet-natured, frank, noble +Selenin had given him, and which kept recurring to his mind. + +On his return the doorkeeper handed him a note, and said, rather +scornfully, that some kind of woman had written it in the hall. +It was a note from Shoustova's mother. She wrote that she had +come to thank her daughter's benefactor and saviour, and to +implore him to come to see them on the Vasilievsky, 5th Line, +house No. --. This was very necessary because of Vera Doukhova. +He need not be afraid that they would weary him with expressions +of gratitude. They would not speak their gratitude, but be simply +glad to see him. Would he not come next morning, if he could? + +There was another note from Bogotyreff, a former fellow-officer, +aide-de-camp to the Emperor, whom Nekhludoff had asked to hand +personally to the Emperor his petition on behalf of the +sectarians. Bogotyreff wrote, in his large, firm hand, that he +would put the petition into the Emperor's own hands, as he had +promised; but that it had occurred to him that it might be better +for Nekhludoff first to go and see the person on whom the matter +depended. + +After the impressions received during the last few days, +Nekhludoff felt perfectly hopeless of getting anything done. The +plans he had formed in Moscow seemed now something like the +dreams of youth, which are inevitably followed by disillusion +when life comes to be faced. Still, being now in Petersburg, he +considered it his duty to do all he had intended, and he resolved +next day, after consulting Bogotyreff, to act on his advice and +see the person on whom the case of the sectarians depended. + +He got out the sectarians' petition from his portfolio, and began +reading it over, when there was a knock at his door, and a +footman came in with a message from the Countess Katerina +Ivanovna, who asked him to come up and have a cup of tea with +her. + +Nekhludoff said he would come at once, and having put the papers +back into the portfolio, he went up to his aunt's. He looked out +of a window on his way, and saw Mariette's pair of bays standing +in front of the house, and he suddenly brightened and felt +inclined to smile. + +Mariette, with a hat on her head, not in black but with a light +dress of many shades, sat with a cup in her hand beside the +Countess's easy chair, prattling about something while her +beautiful, laughing eyes glistened. She had said something +funny--something indecently funny--just as Nekhludoff entered the +room. He knew it by the way she laughed, and by the way the +good-natured Countess Katerina Ivanovna's fat body was shaking +with laughter; while Mariette, her smiling mouth slightly drawn +to one side, her head a little bent, a peculiarly mischievous +expression in her merry, energetic face, sat silently looking at +her companion. From a few words which he overheard, Nekhludoff +guessed that they were talking of the second piece of Petersburg +news, the episode of the Siberian Governor, and that it was in +reference to this subject that Mariette had said something so +funny that the Countess could not control herself for a long +time. + +"You will kill me," she said, coughing. + +After saying "How d'you do?" Nekhludoff sat down. He was about to +censure Mariette in his mind for her levity when, noticing the +serious and even slightly dissatisfied look in his eyes, she +suddenly, to please him, changed not only the expression of her +face, but also the attitude of her mind; for she felt the wish to +please him as soon as she looked at him. She suddenly turned +serious, dissatisfied with her life, as if seeking and striving +after something; it was not that she pretended, but she really +reproduced in herself the very same state of mind that he was in, +although it would have been impossible for her to express in +words what was the state of Nekhludoff's mind at that moment. + +She asked him how he had accomplished his tasks. He told her +about his failure in the Senate and his meeting Selenin. + +"Oh, what a pure soul! He is, indeed, a chevalier sans peur et +sans reproche. A pure soul!" said both ladies, using the epithet +commonly applied to Selenin in Petersburg society. + +"What is his wife like?" Nekhludoff asked. + +"His wife? Well, I do not wish to judge, but she does not +understand him." + +"Is it possible that he, too, was for rejecting the appeal?" +Mariette asked with real sympathy. "It is dreadful. How sorry I +am for her," she added with a sigh. + +He frowned, and in order to change the subject began to speak +about Shoustova, who had been imprisoned in the fortress and was +now set free through the influence of Mariette's husband. He +thanked her for her trouble, and was going on to say how dreadful +he thought it, that this woman and the whole of her family had +suffered merely, because no one had reminded the authorities +about them, but Mariette interrupted him and expressed her own +indignation. + +"Say nothing about it to me," she said. "When my husband told me +she could be set free, it was this that struck me, 'What was she +kept in prison for if she is innocent?'" She went on expressing +what Nekhludoff was about to say. + +"It is revolting--revolting." + +Countess Katerina Ivanovna noticed that Mariette was coquetting +with her nephew, and this amused her. "What do you think?" she +said, when they were silent. "Supposing you come to Aline's +to-morrow night. Kiesewetter will be there. And you, too," she +said, turning to Mariette. "_Il vous a remarque_," she went on to +her nephew. "He told me that what you say (I repeated it all to +him) is a very good sign, and that you will certainly come to +Christ. You must come absolutely. Tell him to, Mariette, and come +yourself." + +"Countess, in the first place, I have no right whatever to give +any kind of advice to the Prince," said Mariette, and gave +Nekhludoff a look that somehow established a full comprehension +between them of their attitude in relation to the Countess's +words and evangelicalism in general. "Secondly, I do not much +care, you know." + +"Yes, I know you always do things the wrong way round, and +according to your own ideas." + +"My own ideas? I have faith like the most simple peasant woman," +said Mariette with a smile. "And, thirdly, I am going to the +French Theatre to-morrow night." + +"Ah! And have you seen that--What's her name?" asked Countess +Katerina Ivanovna. Mariette gave the name of a celebrated French +actress. + +"You must go, most decidedly; she is wonderful." + +"Whom am I to see first, ma tante--the actress or the preacher?" +Nekhludoff said with a smile. + +"Please don't catch at my words." + +"I should think the preacher first and then the actress, or else +the desire for the sermon might vanish altogether," said +Nekhludoff. + +"No; better begin with the French Theatre, and do penance +afterwards." + +"Now, then, you are not to hold me up for ridicule. The preacher +is the preacher and the theatre is the theatre. One need not weep +in order to be saved. One must have faith, and then one is sure +to be gay." + +"You, ma tante, preach better than any preacher." + +"Do you know what?" said Mariette. "Come into my box to-morrow." + +"I am afraid I shall not be able to." + +The footman interrupted the conversation by announcing a visitor. +It was the secretary of a philanthropic society of which the +Countess was president. + +"Oh, that is the dullest of men. I think I shall receive him out +there, and return to you later on. Mariette, give him his tea," +said the Countess, and left the room, with her quick, wriggling +walk. + +Mariette took the glove off her firm, rather flat hand, the +fourth finger of which was covered with rings. + +"Want any?" she said, taking hold of the silver teapot, under +which a spirit lamp was burning, and extending her little finger +curiously. Her face looked sad and serious. + +"It is always terribly painful to me to notice that people whose +opinion I value confound me with the position I am placed in." +She seemed ready to cry as she said these last words. And though +these words had no meaning, or at any rate a very indefinite +meaning, they seemed to be of exceptional depth, meaning, or +goodness to Nekhludoff, so much was he attracted by the look of +the bright eyes which accompanied the words of this young, +beautiful, and well-dressed woman. + +Nekhludoff looked at her in silence, and could not take his eyes +from her face. + +"You think I do not understand you and all that goes on in you. +Why, everybody knows what you are doing. _C'est le secret de +polichinelle_. And I am delighted with your work, and think highly +of you." + +"Really, there is nothing to be delighted with; and I have done +so little as Yet." + +"No matter. I understand your feelings, and I understand her. +All right, all right. I will say nothing more about it," she +said, noticing displeasure on his face. "But I also understand +that after seeing all the suffering and the horror in the +prisons," Mariette went on, her only desire that of attracting +him, and guessing with her woman's instinct what was dear and +important to him, "you wish to help the sufferers, those who are +made to suffer so terribly by other men, and their cruelty and +indifference. I understand the willingness to give one's life, +and could give mine in such a cause, but we each have our own +fate." + +"Are you, then, dissatisfied with your fate?" + +"I?" she asked, as if struck with surprise that such a question +could be put to her. "I have to be satisfied, and am satisfied. +But there is a worm that wakes up--" + +"And he must not be allowed to fall asleep again. It is a voice +that must be obeyed," Nekhludoff said, falling into the trap. + +Many a time later on Nekhludoff remembered with shame his talk +with her. He remembered her words, which were not so much lies as +imitations of his own, and her face, which seemed looking at him +with sympathetic attention when he told her about the terrors of +the prison and of his impressions in the country. + +When the Countess returned they were talking not merely like old, +but like exclusive friends who alone understood one another. They +were talking about the injustice of power, of the sufferings of +the unfortunate, the poverty of the people, yet in reality in the +midst of the sound of their talk their eyes, gazing at each +other, kept asking, "Can you love me?" and answering, "I can," +and the sex-feeling, taking the most unexpected and brightest +forms, drew them to each other. As she was going away she told +him that she would always be willing to serve him in any way she +could, and asked him to come and see her, if only for a moment, +in the theatre next day, as she had a very important thing to +tell him about. + +"Yes, and when shall I see you again?" she added, with a sigh, +carefully drawing the glove over her jewelled hand. + +"Say you will come." + +Nekhludoff promised. + +That night, when Nekhludoff was alone in his room, and lay down +after putting out his candle, he could not sleep. He thought of +Maslova, of the decision of the Senate, of his resolve to follow +her in any case, of his having given up the land. The face of +Mariette appeared to him as if in answer to those thoughts--her +look, her sigh, her words, "When shall I see you again?" and her +smile seemed vivid as if he really saw her, and he also smiled. +"Shall I be doing right in going to Siberia? And have I done +right in divesting myself of my wealth?" And the answers to the +questions on this Petersburg night, on which the daylight +streamed into the window from under the blind, were quite +indefinite. All seemed mixed in his head. He recalled his former +state of mind, and the former sequence of his thoughts, but they +had no longer their former power or validity. + +"And supposing I have invented all this, and am unable to live it +through--supposing I repent of having acted right," he thought; +and unable to answer he was seized with such anguish and despair +as he had long not felt. Unable to free himself from his +perplexity, he fell into a heavy sleep, such as he had slept +after a heavy loss at cards. + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +LYDIA SHOUSTOVA'S HOME. + +Nekhludoff awoke next morning feeling as if he had been guilty of +some iniquity the day before. He began considering. He could not +remember having done anything wrong; he had committed no evil +act, but he had had evil thoughts. He had thought that all his +present resolutions to marry Katusha and to give up his land were +unachievable dreams; that he should be unable to bear it; that it +was artificial, unnatural; and that he would have to go on living +as he lived. + +He had committed no evil action, but, what was far worse than an +evil action, he had entertained evil thoughts whence all evil +actions proceed. An evil action may not be repeated, and can be +repented of; but evil thoughts generate all evil actions. + +An evil action only smooths the path for other evil acts; evil +thoughts uncontrollably drag one along that path. + +When Nekhludoff repeated in his mind the thoughts of the day +before, he was surprised that he could for a moment have believed +these thoughts. However new and difficult that which he had +decided to do might be, he knew that it was the only possible way +of life for him now, and however easy and natural it might have +been to return to his former state, he knew that state to be +death. + +Yesterday's temptation seemed like the feeling when one awakes +from deep sleep, and, without feeling sleepy, wants to lie +comfortably in bed a little longer, yet knows that it is time to +rise and commence the glad and important work that awaits one. + +On that, his last day in Petersburg, he went in the morning to +the Vasilievski Ostrov to see Shoustova. Shoustova lived on the +second floor, and having been shown the back stairs, Nekhludoff +entered straight into the hot kitchen, which smelt strongly of +food. An elderly woman, with turned-up sleeves, with an apron and +spectacles, stood by the fire stirring something in a steaming +pan. + +"Whom do you want?" she asked severely, looking at him over her +spectacles. + +Before Nekhludoff had time to answer, an expression of fright and +joy appeared on her face. + +"Oh, Prince!" she exclaimed, wiping her hands on her apron. "But +why have you come the back way? Our Benefactor! I am her mother. +They have nearly killed my little girl. You have saved us," she +said, catching hold of Nekhludoff's hand and trying to kiss it. + +"I went to see you yesterday. My sister asked me to. She is here. +This way, this way, please," said Shoustova's mother, as she led +the way through a narrow door, and a dark passage, arranging her +hair and pulling at her tucked-up skirt. "My sister's name is +Kornilova. You must have heard of her," she added, stopping +before a closed door. "She was mixed up in a political affair. +An extremely clever woman!" + +Shoustova's mother opened the door and showed Nekhludoff into a +little room where on a sofa with a table before it sat a plump, +short girl with fair hair that curled round her pale, round face, +which was very like her mother's. She had a striped cotton blouse +on. + +Opposite her, in an armchair, leaning forward, so that he was +nearly bent double, sat a young fellow with a slight, black beard +and moustaches. + +"Lydia, Prince Nekhludoff!" he said. + +The pale girl jumped up, nervously pushing back a lock of hair +behind her ear, and gazing at the newcomer with a frightened look +in her large, grey eyes. + +"So you are that dangerous woman whom Vera Doukhova wished me to +intercede for?" Nekhludoff asked, with a smile. + +"Yes, I am," said Lydia Shoustova, her broad, kind, child-like +smile disclosing a row of beautiful teeth. "It was aunt who was +so anxious to see you. Aunt!" she called out, in a pleasant, +tender voice through a door. + +"Your imprisonment grieved Vera Doukhova very much," said +Nekhludoff. + +"Take a seat here, or better here," said Shoustova, pointing to +the battered easy-chair from which the young man had just risen. + +"My cousin, Zakharov," she said, noticing that Nekhludoff looked +at the young man. + +The young man greeted the visitor with a smile as kindly as +Shoustova's, and when Nekhludoff sat down he brought himself +another chair, and sat by his side. A fair-haired schoolboy of +about 10 also came into the room and silently sat down on the +window-sill. + +"Vera Doukhova is a great friend of my aunt's, but I hardly know +her," said Shoustova. + +Then a woman with a very pleasant face, with a white blouse and +leather belt, came in from the next room. + +"How do you do? Thanks for coming," she began as soon as she had +taken the place next Shoustova's on the sofa. + +"Well, and how is Vera. You have seen her? How does she bear her +fate?" + +"She does not complain," said Nekhludoff. "She says she feels +perfectly happy."' + +"Ah, that's like Vera. I know her," said the aunt, smiling and +shaking her head. "One must know her. She has a fine character. +Everything for others; nothing for herself." + +"No, she asked nothing for herself, but only seemed concerned +about your niece. What seemed to trouble her most was, as she +said, that your niece was imprisoned for nothing." + +"Yes, that's true," said the aunt. "It is a dreadful business. +She suffered, in reality, because of me." + +"Not at all, aunt. I should have taken the papers without you all +the same." + +"Allow me to know better," said the aunt. "You see," she went on +to Nekhludoff, "it all happened because a certain person asked me +to keep his papers for a time, and I, having no house at the +time, brought them to her. And that very night the police +searched her room and took her and the papers, and have kept her +up to now, demanding that she should say from whom she had them." + +"But I never told them," said Shoustova quickly, pulling +nervously at a lock that was not even out of place. + +"I never said you did," answered the aunt. + +"If they took Mitin up it was certainly not through me," said +Shoustova, blushing, and looking round uneasily. + +"Don't speak about it, Lydia dear," said her mother. + +"Why not? I should like to relate it," said Shoustova, no longer +smiling nor pulling her lock, but twisting it round her finger +and getting redder. + +"Don't forget what happened yesterday when you began talking +about it." + +"Not at all---Leave me alone, mamma. I did not tell, I only kept +quiet. When he examined me about Mitin and about aunt, I said +nothing, and told him I would not answer." + +"Then this--Petrov--" + +"Petrov is a spy, a gendarme, and a blackguard," put in the aunt, +to explain her niece's words to Nekhludoff. + +"Then he began persuading," continued Shoustova, excitedly and +hurriedly. "'Anything you tell me,' he said, 'can harm no one; on +the contrary, if you tell me, we may be able to set free innocent +people whom we may be uselessly tormenting.' Well, I still said I +would not tell. Then he said, 'All right, don't tell, but do not +deny what I am going to say.' And he named Mitin." + +"Don't talk about it," said the aunt. + +"Oh, aunt, don't interrupt," and she went on pulling the lock of +hair and looking round. "And then, only fancy, the next day I +hear--they let me know by knocking at the wall--that Mitin is +arrested. Well, I think I have betrayed him, and this tormented +me so--it tormented me so that I nearly went mad." + +"And it turned out that it was not at all because of you he was +taken up?" + +"Yes, but I didn't know. I think, 'There, now, I have betrayed +him.' I walk and walk up and down from wall to wall, and cannot +help thinking. I think, 'I have betrayed him.' I lie down and +cover myself up, and hear something whispering, 'Betrayed! +betrayed Mitin! Mitin betrayed!' I know it is an hallucination, +but cannot help listening. I wish to fall asleep, I cannot. I +wish not to think, and cannot cease. That is terrible!" and as +Shoustova spoke she got more and more excited, and twisted and +untwisted the lock of hair round her finger. + +"Lydia, dear, be calm," the mother said, touching her shoulder. + +But Shoustova could not stop herself. + +"It is all the more terrible--" she began again, but did not +finish, and jumping up with a cry rushed out of the room. + +Her mother turned to follow her. + +"They ought to be hanged, the rascals!" said the schoolboy who +was sitting on the window-sill. + +"What's that?" said the mother. + +"I only said--Oh, it's nothing," the schoolboy answered, and +taking a cigarette that lay on the table, he began to smoke. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +LYDIA'S AUNT. + +"Yes, that solitary confinement is terrible for the young," said +the aunt, shaking her head and also lighting a cigarette. + +"I should say for every one," Nekhludoff replied. + +"No, not for all," answered the aunt. "For the real +revolutionists, I have been told, it is rest and quiet. A man who +is wanted by the police lives in continual anxiety, material +want, and fear for himself and others, and for his cause, and at +last, when he is taken up and it is all over, and all +responsibility is off his shoulders, he can sit and rest. I have +been told they actually feel joyful when taken up. But the young +and innocent (they always first arrest the innocent, like Lydia), +for them the first shock is terrible. It is not that they deprive +you of freedom; and the bad food and bad air--all that is +nothing. Three times as many privations would be easily borne if +it were not for the moral shock when one is first taken." + +"Have you experienced it?" + +"I? I was twice in prison," she answered, with a sad, gentle +smile. "When I was arrested for the first time I had done +nothing. I was 22, had a child, and was expecting another. Though +the loss of freedom and the parting with my child and husband +were hard, they were nothing when compared with what I felt when +I found out that I had ceased being a human creature and had +become a thing. I wished to say good-bye to my little daughter. I +was told to go and get into the trap. I asked where I was being +taken to. The answer was that I should know when I got there. I +asked what I was accused of, but got no reply. After I had been +examined, and after they had undressed me and put numbered prison +clothes on me, they led me to a vault, opened a door, pushed me +in, and left me alone; a sentinel, with a loaded gun, paced up +and down in front of my door, and every now and then looked in +through a crack--I felt terribly depressed. What struck me most +at the time was that the gendarme officer who examined me offered +me a cigarette. So he knew that people liked smoking, and must +know that they liked freedom and light; and that mothers love +their children, and children their mothers. Then how could they +tear me pitilessly from all that was dear to me, and lock me up +in prison like a wild animal? That sort of thing could not be +borne without evil effects. Any one who believes in God and men, +and believes that men love one another, will cease to believe it +after all that. I have ceased to believe in humanity since then, +and have grown embittered," she finished, with a smile. + +Shoustova's mother came in at the door through which her daughter +had gone out, and said that Lydia was very much upset, and would +not come in again. + +"And what has this young life been ruined for?" said the aunt. +"What is especially painful to me is that I am the involuntary +cause of it." + +"She will recover in the country, with God's help," said the +mother. "We shall send her to her father." + +"Yes, if it were not for you she would have perished altogether," +said the aunt. "Thank you. But what I wished to see you for is +this: I wished to ask you to take a letter to Vera Doukhova," and +she got the letter out of her pocket. + +"The letter is not closed; you may read and tear it up, or hand +it to her, according to how far it coincides with your +principles," she said. "It contains nothing compromising." + +Nekhludoff took the letter, and, having promised to give it to +Vera Doukhova, he took his leave and went away. He sealed the +letter without reading it, meaning to take it to its destination. + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +THE STATE CHURCH AND THE PEOPLE. + +The last thing that kept Nekhludoff in Petersburg was the case of +the sectarians, whose petition he intended to get his former +fellow-officer, Aide-de-camp Bogatyreff, to hand to the Tsar. He +came to Bogatyreff in the morning, and found him about to go out, +though still at breakfast. Bogatyreff was not tall, but firmly +built and wonderfully strong (he could bend a horseshoe), a kind, +honest, straight, and even liberal man. In spite of these +qualities, he was intimate at Court, and very fond of the Tsar +and his family, and by some strange method he managed, while +living in that highest circle, to see nothing but the good in it +and to take no part in the evil and corruption. He never +condemned anybody nor any measure, and either kept silent or +spoke in a bold, loud voice, almost shouting what he had to say, +and often laughing in the same boisterous manner. And he did not +do it for diplomatic reasons, but because such was his character. + +"Ah, that's right that you have come. Would you like some +breakfast? Sit down, the beefsteaks are fine! I always begin with +something substantial--begin and finish, too. Ha! ha! ha! Well, +then, have a glass of wine," he shouted, pointing to a decanter +of claret. "I have been thinking of you. I will hand on the +petition. I shall put it into his own hands. You may count on +that, only it occurred to me that it would be best for you to +call on Toporoff." + +Nekhludoff made a wry face at the mention of Toporoff. + +"It all depends on him. He will be consulted, anyhow. And perhaps +he may himself meet your wishes." + +"If you advise it I shall go." + +"That's right. Well, and how does Petersburg agree with you?" +shouted Bogatyreff. "Tell me. Eh?" + +"I feel myself getting hypnotised," replied Nekhludoff. + +"Hypnotised!" Bogatyreff repeated, and burst out laughing. "You +won't have anything? Well, just as you please," and he wiped his +moustaches with his napkin. "Then you'll go? Eh? If he does not +do it, give the petition to me, and I shall hand it on +to-morrow." Shouting these words, he rose, crossed himself just +as naturally as he had wiped his mouth, and began buckling on his +sword. + +"And now good-bye; I must go. We are both going out," said +Nekhludoff, and shaking Bogatyreff's strong, broad hand, and with +the sense of pleasure which the impression of something healthy +and unconsciously fresh always gave him, Nekhludoff parted from +Bogatyreff on the door-steps. + +Though he expected no good result from his visit, still +Nekhludoff, following Bogatyreff's advice, went to see Toporoff, +on whom the sectarians' fate depended. + +The position occupied by Toporoff, involving as it did an +incongruity of purpose, could only be held by a dull man devoid +of moral sensibility. Toporoff possessed both these negative +qualities. The incongruity of the position he occupied was this. +It was his duty to keep up and to defend, by external measures, +not excluding violence, that Church which, by its own +declaration, was established by God Himself and could not be +shaken by the gates of hell nor by anything human. This divine +and immutable God-established institution had to be sustained and +defended by a human institution--the Holy Synod, managed by +Toporoff and his officials. Toporoff did not see this +contradiction, nor did he wish to see it, and he was therefore +much concerned lest some Romish priest, some pastor, or some +sectarian should destroy that Church which the gates of hell +could not conquer. + +Toporoff, like all those who are quite destitute of the +fundamental religious feeling that recognises the equality and +brotherhood of men, was fully convinced that the common people +were creatures entirely different from himself, and that the +people needed what he could very well do without, for at the +bottom of his heart he believed in nothing, and found such a +state very convenient and pleasant. Yet he feared lest the people +might also come to such a state, and looked upon it as his sacred +duty, as he called it, to save the people therefrom. + +A certain cookery book declares that some crabs like to be boiled +alive. In the same way he thought and spoke as if the people +liked being kept in superstition; only he meant this in a literal +sense, whereas the cookery book did not mean its words literally. + +His feelings towards the religion he was keeping up were the same +as those of the poultry-keeper towards the carrion he fed his +fowls on. Carrion was very disgusting, but the fowls liked it; +therefore it was right to feed the fowls on carrion. Of course +all this worship of the images of the Iberian, Kasan and Smolensk +Mothers of God was a gross superstition, but the people liked it +and believed in it, and therefore the superstition must be kept +up. + +Thus thought Toporoff, not considering that the people only liked +superstition because there always have been, and still are, men +like himself who, being enlightened, instead of using their light +to help others to struggle out of their dark ignorance, use it to +plunge them still deeper into it. + +When Nekhludoff entered the reception-room Toporoff was in his +study talking with an abbess, a lively and aristocratic lady, who +was spreading the Greek orthodox faith in Western Russia among +the Uniates (who acknowledge the Pope of Rome), and who have the +Greek religion enforced on them. An official who was in the +reception-room inquired what Nekhludoff wanted, and when he heard +that Nekhludoff meant to hand in a petition to the Emperor, he +asked him if he would allow the petition to be read first. +Nekhludoff gave it him, and the official took it into the study. +The abbess, with her hood and flowing veil and her long train +trailing behind, left the study and went out, her white hands +(with their well-tended nails) holding a topaz rosary. Nekhludoff +was not immediately asked to come in. Toporoff was reading the +petition and shaking his head. He was unpleasantly surprised by +the clear and emphatic wording of it. + +"If it gets into the hands of the Emperor it may cause +misunderstandings, and unpleasant questions may be asked," he +thought as he read. Then he put the petition on the table, rang, +and ordered Nekhludoff to be asked in. + +He remembered the case of the sectarians; he had had a petition +from them before. The case was this: These Christians, fallen +away from the Greek Orthodox Church, were first exhorted and then +tried by law, but were acquitted. Then the Archdeacon and the +Governor arranged, on the plea that their marriages were illegal, +to exile these sectarians, separating the husbands, wives, and +children. These fathers and wives were now petitioning that they +should not be parted. Toporoff recollected the first time the +case came to his notice: he had at that time hesitated whether he +had not better put a stop to it. But then he thought no harm +could result from his confirming the decision to separate and +exile the different members of the sectarian families, whereas +allowing the peasant sect to remain where it was might have a bad +effect on the rest of the inhabitants of the place and cause them +to fall away from Orthodoxy. And then the affair also proved the +zeal of the Archdeacon, and so he let the case proceed along the +lines it had taken. But now that they had a defender such as +Nekhludoff, who had some influence in Petersburg, the case might +be specially pointed out to the Emperor as something cruel, or it +might get into the foreign papers. Therefore he at once took an +unexpected decision. + +"How do you do?" he said, with the air of a very busy man, +receiving Nekhludoff standing, and at once starting on the +business. "I know this case. As soon as I saw the names I +recollected this unfortunate business," he said, taking up the +petition and showing it to Nekhludoff. "And I am much indebted to +you for reminding me of it. It is the over-zealousness of the +provincial authorities." + +Nekhludoff stood silent, looking with no kindly feelings at the +immovable, pale mask of a face before him. + +"And I shall give orders that these measures should be revoked +and the people reinstated in their homes." + +"So that I need not make use of this petition?" + +"I promise you most assuredly," answered Toporoff, laying a +stress on the word I, as if quite convinced that his honesty, his +word was the best guarantee. "It will be best if I write at once. +Take a seat, please." + +He went up to the table and began to write. As Nekhludoff sat +down he looked at the narrow, bald skull, at the fat, blue-veined +hand that was swiftly guiding the pen, and wondered why this +evidently indifferent man was doing what he did and why he was +doing it with such care. + +"Well, here you are," said Toporoff, sealing the envelope; "you +may let your clients know," and he stretched his lips to imitate +a smile. + +"Then what did these people suffer for?" Nekhludoff asked, as he +took the envelope. + +Toporoff raised his head and smiled, as if Nekhludoff's question +gave him pleasure. "That I cannot tell. All I can say is that the +interests of the people guarded by us are so important that too +great a zeal in matters of religion is not so dangerous or so +harmful as the indifference which is now spreading--" + +"But how is it that in the name of religion the very first +demands of righteousness are violated--families are separated?" + +Toporoff continued to smile patronisingly, evidently thinking +what Nekhludoff said very pretty. Anything that Nekhludoff could +say he would have considered very pretty and very one-sided, from +the height of what he considered his far-reaching office in the +State. + +"It may seem so from the point of view of a private individual," +he said, "but from an administrative point of view it appears in +a rather different light. However, I must bid you good-bye, now," +said Toporoff, bowing his head and holding out his hand, which +Nekhludoff pressed. + +"The interests of the people! Your interests is what you mean!" +thought Nekhludoff as he went out. And he ran over in his mind +the people in whom is manifested the activity of the institutions +that uphold religion and educate the people. He began with the +woman punished for the illicit sale of spirits, the boy for +theft, the tramp for tramping, the incendiary for setting a house +on fire, the banker for fraud, and that unfortunate Lydia +Shoustova imprisoned only because they hoped to get such +information as they required from her. Then he thought of the +sectarians punished for violating Orthodoxy, and Gourkevitch for +wanting constitutional government, and Nekhludoff clearly saw +that all these people were arrested, locked up, exiled, not +really because they transgressed against justice or behaved +unlawfully, but only because they were an obstacle hindering the +officials and the rich from enjoying the property they had taken +away from the people. And the woman who sold wine without having +a license, and the thief knocking about the town, and Lydia +Shoustova hiding proclamations, and the sectarians upsetting +superstitions, and Gourkevitch desiring a constitution, were a +real hindrance. It seemed perfectly clear to Nekhludoff that all +these officials, beginning with his aunt's husband, the Senators, +and Toporoff, down to those clean and correct gentlemen who sat +at the tables in the Ministry Office, were not at all troubled by +the fact that that in such a state of things the innocent had to +suffer, but were only concerned how to get rid of the really +dangerous, so that the rule that ten guilty should escape rather +than that one innocent should be condemned was not observed, but, +on the contrary, for the sake of getting rid of one really +dangerous person, ten who seemed dangerous were punished, as, +when cutting a rotten piece out of anything, one has to cut away +some that is good. + +This explanation seemed very simple and clear to Nekhludoff; but +its very simplicity and clearness made him hesitate to accept it. +Was it possible that so complicated a phenomenon could have so +simple and terrible an explanation? Was it possible that all +these words about justice, law, religion, and God, and so on, +were mere words, hiding the coarsest cupidity and cruelty? + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +THE MEANING OF MARIETTE'S ATTRACTION. + +Nekhludoff would have left Petersburg on the evening of the same +day, but he had promised Mariette to meet her at the theatre, and +though he knew that he ought not to keep that promise, he +deceived himself into the belief that it would not be right to +break his word. + +"Am I capable of withstanding these temptations?" he asked +himself not quite honestly. "I shall try for the last time." + +He dressed in his evening clothes, and arrived at the theatre +during the second act of the eternal Dame aux Camelias, in which +a foreign actress once again, and in a novel manner, showed how +women die of consumption. + +The theatre was quite full. Mariette's box was at once, and with +great deference, shown to Nekhludoff at his request. A liveried +servant stood in the corridor outside; he bowed to Nekhludoff as +to one whom he knew, and opened the door of the box. + +All the people who sat and stood in the boxes on the opposite +side, those who sat near and those who were in the parterre, with +their grey, grizzly, bald, or curly heads--all were absorbed in +watching the thin, bony actress who, dressed in silks and laces, +was wriggling before them, and speaking in an unnatural voice. + +Some one called "Hush!" when the door opened, and two streams, +one of cool, the other of hot, air touched Nekhludoff's face. + +Mariette and a lady whom he did not know, with a red cape and a +big, heavy head-dress, were in the box, and two men also, +Mariette's husband, the General, a tall, handsome man with a +severe, inscrutable countenance, a Roman nose, and a uniform +padded round the chest, and a fair man, with a bit of shaved chin +between pompous whiskers. + +Mariette, graceful, slight, elegant, her low-necked dress showing +her firm, shapely, slanting shoulders, with a little black mole +where they joined her neck, immediately turned, and pointed with +her face to a chair behind her in an engaging manner, and smiled +a smile that seemed full of meaning to Nekhludoff. + +The husband looked at him in the quiet way in which he did +everything, and bowed. In the look he exchanged with his wife, +the master, the owner of a beautiful woman, was to be seen at +once. + +When the monologue was over the theatre resounded with the +clapping of hands. Mariette rose, and holding up her rustling +silk skirt, went into the back of the box and introduced +Nekhludoff to her husband. + +The General, without ceasing to smile with his eyes, said he was +very pleased, and then sat inscrutably silent. + +"I ought to have left to-day, had I not promised," said +Nekhludoff to Mariette. + +"If you do not care to see me," said Mariette, in answer to what +his words implied, "you will see a wonderful actress. Was she not +splendid in the last scene?" she asked, turning to her husband. + +The husband bowed his head. + +"This sort of thing does not touch me," said Nekhludoff. "I have +seen so much real suffering lately that--" + +"Yes, sit down and tell me." + +The husband listened, his eyes smiling more and more ironically. +"I have been to see that woman whom they have set free, and who +has been kept in prison for so long; she is quite broken down." + +"That is the woman I spoke to you about," Mariette said to her +husband. + +"Oh, yes, I was very pleased that she could be set free," said +the husband quietly, nodding and smiling under his moustache with +evident irony, so it seemed to Nekhludoff. "I shall go and have a +smoke." + +Nekhludoff sat waiting to hear what the something was that +Mariette had to tell him. She said nothing, and did not even try +to say anything, but joked and spoke about the performance, which +she thought ought to touch Nekhludoff. Nekhludoff saw that she +had nothing to tell, but only wished to show herself to him in +all the splendour of her evening toilet, with her shoulders and +little mole; and this was pleasant and yet repulsive to him. + +The charm that had veiled all this sort of thing from Nekhludoff +was not removed, but it was as if he could see what lay beneath. +Looking at Mariette, he admired her, and yet he knew that she was +a liar, living with a husband who was making his career by means +of the tears and lives of hundreds and hundreds of people, and +that she was quite indifferent about it, and that all she had +said the day before was untrue. What she wanted--neither he nor +she knew why--was to make him fall in love with her. This both +attracted and disgusted him. Several times, on the point of going +away, he took up his hat, and then stayed on. + +But at last, when the husband returned with a strong smell of +tobacco in his thick moustache, and looked at Nekhludoff with a +patronising, contemptuous air, as if not recognising him, +Nekhludoff left the box before the door was closed again, found +his overcoat, and went out of the theatre. As he was walking home +along the Nevski, he could not help noticing a well-shaped and +aggressively finely-dressed woman, who was quietly walking in +front of him along the broad asphalt pavement. The consciousness +of her detestable power was noticeable in her face and the whole +of her figure. All who met or passed that woman looked at her. +Nekhludoff walked faster than she did and, involuntarily, also +looked her in the face. The face, which was probably painted, was +handsome, and the woman looked at him with a smile and her eyes +sparkled. And, curiously enough, Nekhludoff was suddenly reminded +of Mariette, because he again felt both attracted and disgusted +just as when in the theatre. + +Having hurriedly passed her, Nekhludoff turned off on to the +Morskaya, and passed on to the embankment, where, to the surprise +of a policeman, he began pacing up and down the pavement. + +"The other one gave me just such a smile when I entered the +theatre," he thought, "and the meaning of the smile was the same. +The only difference is, that this one said plainly, 'If you want +me, take me; if not, go your way,' and the other one pretended +that she was not thinking of this, but living in some high and +refined state, while this was really at the root. Besides, this +one was driven to it by necessity, while the other amused herself +by playing with that enchanting, disgusting, frightful passion. +This woman of the street was like stagnant, smelling water +offered to those whose thirst was greater than their disgust; +that other one in the theatre was like the poison which, +unnoticed, poisons everything it gets into." + +Nekhludoff recalled his liaison with the Marechal's wife, and +shameful memories rose before him. + +"The animalism of the brute nature in man is disgusting," thought +he, "but as long as it remains in its naked form we observe it +from the height of our spiritual life and despise it; +and--whether one has fallen or resisted--one remains what one was +before. But when that same animalism hides under a cloak of +poetry and aesthetic feeling and demands our worship--then we are +swallowed up by it completely, and worship animalism, no longer +distinguishing good from evil. Then it is awful." + +Nekhludoff perceived all this now as clearly as he saw the +palace, the sentinels, the fortress, the river, the boats, and +the Stock Exchange. And just as on this northern summer night +there was no restful darkness on the earth, but only a dismal, +dull light coming from an invisible source, so in Nekhludoff's +soul there was no longer the restful darkness, ignorance. +Everything seemed clear. It was clear that everything considered +important and good was insignificant and repulsive, and that all +the glamour and luxury hid the old, well-known crimes, which not +only remained unpunished but were adorned with all the splendour +which men were capable of inventing. + +Nekhludoff wished to forget all this, not to see it, but he could +no longer help seeing it. Though he could not see the source of +the light which revealed it to him any more than he could see the +source of the light which lay over Petersburg; and though the +light appeared to him dull, dismal, and unnatural, yet he could +not help seeing what it revealed, and he felt both joyful and +anxious. + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +FOR HER SAKE AND FOR GOD'S. + +On his return to Moscow Nekhludoff went at once to the prison +hospital to bring Maslova the sad news that the Senate had +confirmed the decision of the Court, and that she must prepare to +go to Siberia. He had little hope of the success of his petition +to the Emperor, which the advocate had written for him, and which +he now brought with him for Maslova to sign. And, strange to say, +he did not at present even wish to succeed; he had got used to +the thought of going to Siberia and living among the exiled and +the convicts, and he could not easily picture to himself how his +life and Maslova's would shape if she were acquitted. He +remembered the thought of the American writer, Thoreau, who at +the time when slavery existed in America said that "under a +government that imprisons any unjustly the true place for a just +man is also a prison." Nekhludoff, especially after his visit to +Petersburg and all he discovered there, thought in the same way. + +"Yes, the only place befitting an honest man in Russia at the +present time is a prison," he thought, and even felt that this +applied to him personally, when he drove up to the prison and +entered its walls. + +The doorkeeper recognised Nekhludoff, and told him at once that +Maslova was no longer there. + +"Where is she, then?" + +"In the cell again." + +"Why has she been removed?" Nekhludoff asked. + +"Oh, your excellency, what are such people?" said the doorkeeper, +contemptuously. "She's been carrying on with the medical +assistant, so the head doctor ordered her back." + +Nekhludoff had had no idea how near Maslova and the state of her +mind were to him. He was stunned by the news. + +He felt as one feels at the news of a great and unforeseen +misfortune, and his pain was very severe. His first feeling was +one of shame. He, with his joyful idea of the change that he +imagined was going on in her soul, now seemed ridiculous in his +own eyes. He thought that all her pretence of not wishing to +accept his sacrifice, all the reproaches and tears, were only the +devices of a depraved woman, who wished to use him to the best +advantage. He seemed to remember having seen signs of obduracy at +his last interview with her. All this flashed through his mind as +he instinctively put on his hat and left the hospital. + +"What am I to do now? Am I still bound to her? Has this action of +hers not set me free?" And as he put these questions to himself +he knew at once that if he considered himself free, and threw her +up, he would be punishing himself, and not her, which was what he +wished to do, and he was seized with fear. + +"No, what has happened cannot alter--it can only strengthen my +resolve. Let her do what flows from the state her mind is in. If +it is carrying on with the medical assistant, let her carry on +with the medical assistant; that is her business. I must do what +my conscience demands of me. And my conscience expects me to +sacrifice my freedom. My resolution to marry her, if only in +form, and to follow wherever she may be sent, remains +unalterable." Nekhludoff said all this to himself with vicious +obstinacy as he left the hospital and walked with resolute steps +towards the big gates of the prison. He asked the warder on duty +at the gate to inform the inspector that he wished to see +Maslova. The warder knew Nekhludoff, and told him of an important +change that had taken place in the prison. The old inspector had +been discharged, and a new, very severe official appointed in his +place. + +"They are so strict nowadays, it's just awful," said the jailer. +"He is in here; they will let him know directly." + +The new inspector was in the prison and soon came to Nekhludoff. +He was a tall, angular man, with high cheek bones, morose, and +very slow in his movements. + +"Interviews are allowed in the visiting room on the appointed +days," he said, without looking at Nekhludoff. + +"But I have a petition to the Emperor, which I want signed." + +"You can give it to me." + +"I must see the prisoner myself. I was always allowed to before." + +"That was so, before," said the inspector, with a furtive glance +at Nekhludoff. + +"I have a permission from the governor," insisted Nekhludoff, and +took out his pocket-book. + +"Allow me," said the inspector, taking the paper from Nekhludoff +with his long, dry, white fingers, on the first of which was a +gold ring, still without looking him in the eyes. He read the +paper slowly. "Step into the office, please." + +This time the office was empty. The inspector sat down by the +table and began sorting some papers that lay on it, evidently +intending to be present at the interview. + +When Nekhludoff asked whether he might see the political +prisoner, Doukhova, the inspector answered, shortly, that he +could not. "Interviews with political prisoners are not +permitted," he said, and again fixed his attention on his papers. +With a letter to Doukhova in his pocket, Nekhludoff felt as if he +had committed some offence, and his plans had been discovered and +frustrated. + +When Maslova entered the room the inspector raised his head, and, +without looking at either her or Nekhludoff, remarked: "You may +talk," and went on sorting his papers. Maslova had again the +white jacket, petticoat and kerchief on. When she came up to +Nekhludoff and saw his cold, hard look, she blushed scarlet, and +crumbling the hem of her jacket with her hand, she cast down her +eyes. Her confusion, so it seemed to Nekhludoff, confirmed the +hospital doorkeeper's words. + +Nekhludoff had meant to treat her in the same way as before, but +could not bring himself to shake hands with her, so disgusting +was she to him now. + +"I have brought you bad news," he said, in a monotonous voice, +without looking at her or taking her hand. "The Senate has +refused." + +"I knew it would," she said, in a strange tone, as if she were +gasping for breath. + +Formerly Nekhludoff would have asked why she said she knew it +would; now he only looked at her. Her eyes were full of tears. +But this did not soften him; it roused his irritation against her +even more. + +The inspector rose and began pacing up and down the room. + +In spite of the disgust Nekhludoff was feeling at the moment, he +considered it right to express his regret at the Senate's +decision. + +"You must not despair," he said. "The petition to the Emperor may +meet with success, and I hope---" + +"I'm not thinking of that," she said, looking piteously at him +with her wet, squinting eyes. + +"What is it, then?" + +"You have been to the hospital, and they have most likely told +you about me--" + +"What of that? That is your affair," said Nekhludoff coldly, and +frowned. The cruel feeling of wounded pride that had quieted down +rose with renewed force when she mentioned the hospital. + +"He, a man of the world, whom any girl of the best families would +think it happiness to marry, offered himself as a husband to this +woman, and she could not even wait, but began intriguing with the +medical assistant," thought he, with a look of hatred. + +"Here, sign this petition," he said, taking a large envelope from +his pocket, and laying the paper on the table. She wiped the +tears with a corner of her kerchief, and asked what to write and +where. + +He showed her, and she sat down and arranged the cuff of her +right sleeve with her left hand; he stood behind her, and +silently looked at her back, which shook with suppressed emotion, +and evil and good feelings were fighting in his breast--feelings +of wounded pride and of pity for her who was suffering--and the +last feeling was victorious. + +He could not remember which came first; did the pity for her +first enter his heart, or did he first remember his own sins--his +own repulsive actions, the very same for which he was condemning +her? Anyhow, he both felt himself guilty and pitied her. + +Having signed the petition and wiped her inky finger on her +petticoat, she got up and looked at him. + +"Whatever happens, whatever comes of it, my resolve remains +unchanged," said Nekhludoff. The thought that he had forgiven her +heightened his feeling of pity and tenderness for her, and he +wished to comfort her. "I will do what I have said; wherever they +take you I shall be with you." + +"What's the use?" she interrupted hurriedly, though her whole +face lighted up. + +"Think what you will want on the way--" + +"I don't know of anything in particular, thank you." + +The inspector came up, and without waiting for a remark from him +Nekhludoff took leave, and went out with peace, joy, and love +towards everybody in his heart such as he had never felt before. +The certainty that no action of Maslova could change his love for +her filled him with joy and raised him to a level which he had +never before attained. Let her intrigue with the medical +assistant; that was her business. He loved her not for his own +but for her sake and for God's. + +And this intrigue, for which Maslova was turned out of the +hospital, and of which Nekhludoff believed she was really guilty, +consisted of the following: + +Maslova was sent by the head nurse to get some herb tea from the +dispensary at the end of the corridor, and there, all alone, she +found the medical assistant, a tall man, with a blotchy face, who +had for a long time been bothering her. In trying to get away +from him Maslova gave him such a push that he knocked his head +against a shelf, from which two bottles fell and broke. The head +doctor, who was passing at that moment, heard the sound of +breaking glass, and saw Maslova run out, quite red, and shouted +to her: + +"Ah, my good woman, if you start intriguing here, I'll send you +about your business. What is the meaning of it?" he went on, +addressing the medical assistant, and looking at him over his +spectacles. + +The assistant smiled, and began to justify himself. The doctor +gave no heed to him, but, lifting his head so that he now looked +through his spectacles, he entered the ward. He told the +inspector the same day to send another more sedate +assistant-nurse in Maslova's place. And this was her "intrigue" +with the medical assistant. + +Being turned out for a love intrigue was particularly painful to +Maslova, because the relations with men, which had long been +repulsive to her, had become specially disgusting after meeting +Nekhludoff. The thought that, judging her by her past and present +position, every man, the blotchy assistant among them, considered +he had a right to offend her, and was surprised at her refusal, +hurt her deeply, and made her pity herself and brought tears to +her eyes. + +When she went out to Nekhludoff this time she wished to clear +herself of the false charge which she knew he would certainly +have heard about. But when she began to justify herself she felt +he did not believe her, and that her excuses would only +strengthen his suspicions; tears choked her, and she was silent. + +Maslova still thought and continued to persuade herself that she +had never forgiven him, and hated him, as she told him at their +second interview, but in reality she loved him again, and loved +him so that she did all he wished her to do; left off drinking, +smoking, coquetting, and entered the hospital because she knew he +wished it. And if every time he reminded her of it, she refused +so decidedly to accept his sacrifice and marry him, it was +because she liked repeating the proud words she had once uttered, +and because she knew that a marriage with her would be a +misfortune for him. + +She had resolutely made up her mind that she would not accept his +sacrifice, and yet the thought that he despised her and believed +that she still was what she had been, and did not notice the +change that had taken place in her, was very painful. That he +could still think she had done wrong while in the hospital +tormented her more than the news that her sentence was confirmed. + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +THE ASTONISHING INSTITUTION CALLED CRIMINAL LAW. + +Maslova might be sent off with the first gang of prisoners, +therefore Nekhludoff got ready for his departure. But there was +so much to be done that he felt that he could not finish it, +however much time he might have. It was quite different now from +what it had been. Formerly he used to be obliged to look for an +occupation, the interest of which always centred in one person, +i.e., Dmitri Ivanovitch Nekhludoff, and yet, though every +interest of his life was thus centred, all these occupations were +very wearisome. Now all his occupations related to other people +and not to Dmitri Ivanovitch, and they were all interesting and +attractive, and there was no end to them. Nor was this all. +Formerly Dmitri Ivanovitch Nekhludoff's occupations always made +him feel vexed and irritable; now they produced a joyful state of +mind. The business at present occupying Nekhludoff could be +divided under three headings. He himself, with his usual +pedantry, divided it in that way, and accordingly kept the papers +referring to it in three different portfolios. The first referred +to Maslova, and was chiefly that of taking steps to get her +petition to the Emperor attended to, and preparing for her +probable journey to Siberia. + +The second was about his estates. In Panovo he had given the land +to the peasants on condition of their paying rent to be put to +their own communal use. But he had to confirm this transaction by +a legal deed, and to make his will, in accordance with it. In +Kousminski the state of things was still as he had first arranged +it, i.e., he was to receive the rent; but the terms had to be +fixed, and also how much of the money he would use to live on, +and how much he would leave for the peasants' use. As he did not +know what his journey to Siberia would cost him, he could not +decide to lose this revenue altogether, though he reduced the +income from it by half. + +The third part of his business was to help the convicts, who +applied more and more often to him. At first when he came in +contact with the prisoners, and they appealed to him for help, he +at once began interceding for them, hoping to lighten their fate, +but he soon had so many applications that he felt the +impossibility of attending to all of them, and that naturally led +him to take up another piece of work, which at last roused his +interest even more than the three first. This new part of his +business was finding an answer to the following questions: What +was this astonishing institution called criminal law, of which +the results were that in the prison, with some of the inmates of +which he had lately become acquainted, and in all those other +places of confinement, from the Peter and Paul Fortress in +Petersburg to the island of Sakhalin, hundreds and thousands of +victims were pining? What did this strange criminal law exist +for? How had it originated? + +From his personal relations with the prisoners, from notes by +some of those in confinement, and by questioning the advocate and +the prison priest, Nekhludoff came to the conclusion that the +convicts, the so-called criminals, could be divided into five +classes. The first were quite innocent people, condemned by +judicial blunder. Such were the Menshoffs, supposed to be +incendiaries, Maslova, and others. There were not many of these; +according to the priest's words, only seven per cent., but their +condition excited particular interest. + +To the second class belong persons condemned for actions done +under peculiar circumstances, i.e., in a fit of passion, jealousy, +or drunkenness, circumstances under which those who judged them +would surely have committed the same actions. + +The third class consisted of people punished for having committed +actions which, according to their understanding, were quite +natural, and even good, but which those other people, the men who +made the laws, considered to be crimes. Such were the persons who +sold spirits without a license, smugglers, those who gathered +grass and wood on large estates and in the forests belonging to +the Crown; the thieving miners; and those unbelieving people who +robbed churches. + +To the fourth class belonged those who were imprisoned only +because they stood morally higher than the average level of +society. Such were the Sectarians, the Poles, the Circassians +rebelling in order to regain their independence, the political +prisoners, the Socialists, the strikers condemned for +withstanding the authorities. There was, according to +Nekhludoff's observations, a very large percentage belonging to +this class; among them some of the best of men. + +The fifth class consisted of persons who had been far more sinned +against by society than they had sinned against it. These were +castaways, stupefied by continual oppression and temptation, such +as the boy who had stolen the rugs, and hundreds of others whom +Nekhludoff had seen in the prison and out of it. The conditions +under which they lived seemed to lead on systematically to those +actions which are termed crimes. A great many thieves and +murderers with whom he had lately come in contact, according to +Nekhludoff's estimate, belonged to this class. To this class +Nekhludoff also reckoned those depraved, demoralised creatures +whom the new school of criminology classify as the criminal type, +and the existence of which is considered to be the chief proof of +the necessity of criminal law and punishment. This demoralised, +depraved, abnormal type was, according to Nekhludoff, exactly the +same as that against whom society had sinned, only here society +had sinned not directly against them, but against their parents +and forefathers. + +Among this latter class Nekhludoff was specially struck by one +Okhotin, an inveterate thief, the illegitimate son of a +prostitute, brought up in a doss-house, who, up to the age of 30, +had apparently never met with any one whose morality was above +that of a policeman, and who had got into a band of thieves when +quite young. He was gifted with an extraordinary sense of humour, +by means of which he made himself very attractive. He asked +Nekhludoff for protection, at the same time making fun of +himself, the lawyers, the prison, and laws human and divine. + +Another was the handsome Fedoroff, who, with a band of robbers, +of whom he was the chief, had robbed and murdered an old man, an +official. Fedoroff was a peasant, whose father had been +unlawfully deprived of his house, and who, later on, when serving +as a soldier, had suffered much because he had fallen in love +with an officer's mistress. He had a fascinating, passionate +nature, that longed for enjoyment at any cost. He had never met +anybody who restrained himself for any cause whatever, and had +never heard a word about any aim in life other than enjoyment. + +Nekhludoff distinctly saw that both these men were richly endowed +by nature, but had been neglected and crippled like uncared-for +plants. + +He had also met a tramp and a woman who had repelled him by their +dulness and seeming cruelty, but even in them he could find no +trace of the criminal type written about by the Italian school, +but only saw in them people who were repulsive to him personally, +just in the same way as some he had met outside the prison, in +swallow-tail coats wearing epaulettes, or bedecked with lace. And +so the investigation of the reasons why all these very different +persons were put in prison, while others just like them were +going about free and even judging them, formed a fourth task for +Nekhludoff. + +He hoped to find an answer to this question in books, and bought +all that referred to it. He got the works of Lombroso, Garofalo, +Ferry, List, Maudsley, Tard, and read them carefully. But as he +read he became more and more disappointed. It happened to him as +it always happens to those who turn to science not in order to +play a part in it, nor to write, nor to dispute, nor to teach, +but simply for an answer to an every-day question of life. +Science answered thousands of different very subtle and ingenious +questions touching criminal law, but not the one he was trying to +solve. He asked a very simple question: "Why, and with what +right, do some people lock up, torment, exile, flog, and kill +others, while they are themselves just like those whom they +torment, flog, and kill?" And in answer he got deliberations as +to whether human beings had free will or not. Whether signs of +criminality could be detected by measuring the skulls or not. +What part heredity played in crime. Whether immorality could be +inherited. What madness is, what degeneration is, and what +temperament is. How climate, food, ignorance, imitativeness, +hypnotism, or passion act. What society is. What are its duties, +etc., etc. + +These disquisitions reminded him of the answer he once got from a +little boy whom he met coming home from school. Nekhludoff asked +him if he had learned his spelling. + +"I have," answered the boy. + +"Well, then, tell me, how do you spell 'leg'?" + +"A dog's leg, or what kind of leg?" the boy answered, with a sly +look. + +Answers in the form of new questions, like the boy's, was all +Nekhludoff got in reply to his one primary question. He found +much that was clever, learned much that was interesting, but what +he did not find was an answer to the principal question: By what +right some people punish others? + +Not only did he not find any answer, but all the arguments were +brought forward in order to explain and vindicate punishment, the +necessity of which was taken as an axiom. + +Nekhludoff read much, but only in snatches, and putting down his +failure to this superficial way of reading, hoped to find the +answer later on. He would not allow himself to believe in the +truth of the answer which began, more and more often, to present +itself to him. + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +NEKHLUDOFF'S SISTER AND HER HUSBAND. + +The gang of prisoners, with Maslova among them, was to start on +the 5th July. Nekhludoff arranged to start on the same day. + +The day before, Nekhludoff's sister and her husband came to town +to see him. + +Nekhludoff's sister, Nathalie Ivanovna Rogozhinsky, was 10 years +older than her brother. She had been very fond of him when he was +a boy, and later on, just before her marriage, they grew very +close to each other, as if they were equals, she being a young +woman of 25, he a lad of 15. At that time she was in love with +his friend, Nikolenka Irtenieff, since dead. They both loved +Nikolenka, and loved in him and in themselves that which is good, +and which unites all men. Since then they had both been depraved, +he by military service and a vicious life, she by marriage with a +man whom she loved with a sensual love, who did not care for the +things that had once been so dear and holy to her and to her +brother, nor even understand the meaning of those aspirations +towards moral perfection and the service of mankind, which once +constituted her life, and put them down to ambition and the wish +to show off; that being the only explanation comprehensible to +him. + +Nathalie's husband had been a man without a name and without +means, but cleverly steering towards Liberalism or Conservatism, +according to which best suited his purpose, he managed to make a +comparatively brilliant judicial career. Some peculiarity which +made him attractive to women assisted him when he was no longer +in his first youth. While travelling abroad he made Nekhludoff's +acquaintance, and managed to make Nathalie, who was also no +longer a girl, fall in love with him, rather against her mother's +wishes who considered a marriage with him to be a misalliance for +her daughter. Nekhludoff, though he tried to hide it from +himself, though he fought against it, hated his brother-in-law. + +Nekhludoff had a strong antipathy towards him because of the +vulgarity of his feelings, his assurance and narrowness, but +chiefly because of Nathalie, who managed to love him in spite of +the narrowness of his nature, and loved him so selfishly, so +sensually, and stifled for his sake all the good that had been in +her. + +It always hurt Nekhludoff to think of Nathalie as the wife of +that hairy, self-assured man with the shiny, bald patch on his +head. He could not even master a feeling of revulsion towards +their children, and when he heard that she was again going to +have a baby, he felt something like sorrow that she had once more +been infected with something bad by this man who was so foreign +to him. The Rogozhinskys had come to Moscow alone, having left +their two children--a boy and a girl--at home, and stopped in the +best rooms of the best hotel. Nathalie at once went to her +mother's old house, but hearing from Agraphena Petrovna that her +brother had left, and was living in a lodging-house, she drove +there. The dirty servant met her in the stuffy passage, dark but +for a lamp which burnt there all day. He told her that the Prince +was not in. + +Nathalie asked to be shown into his rooms, as she wished to leave +a note for him, and the man took her up. + +Nathalie carefully examined her brother's two little rooms. She +noticed in everything the love of cleanliness and order she knew +so well in him, and was struck by the novel simplicity of the +surroundings. On his writing-table she saw the paper-weight with +the bronze dog on the top which she remembered; the tidy way in +which his different portfolios and writing utensils were placed +on the table was also familiar, and so was the large, crooked +ivory paper knife which marked the place in a French book by +Tard, which lay with other volumes on punishment and a book in +English by Henry George. She sat down at the table and wrote a +note asking him to be sure to come that same day, and shaking her +head in surprise at what she saw, she returned to her hotel. + +Two questions regarding her brother now interested Nathalie: his +marriage with Katusha, which she had heard spoken about in their +town--for everybody was speaking about it--and his giving away +the land to the peasants, which was also known, and struck many +as something of a political nature, and dangerous. The marriage +with Katusha pleased her in a way. She admired that resoluteness +which was so like him and herself as they used to be in those +happy times before her marriage. And yet she was horrified when +she thought her brother was going to marry such a dreadful woman. +The latter was the stronger feeling of the two, and she decided +to use all her influence to prevent him from doing it, though she +knew how difficult this would be. + +The other matter, the giving up of the land to the peasants, did +not touch her so nearly, but her husband was very indignant about +it, and expected her to influence her brother against it. + +Rogozhinsky said that such an action was the height of +inconsistency, flightiness, and pride, the only possible +explanation of which was the desire to appear original, to brag, +to make one's self talked about. + +"What sense could there be in letting the land to the peasants, +on condition that they pay the rent to themselves?" he said. "If +he was resolved to do such a thing, why not sell the land to them +through the Peasants' Bank? There might have been some sense in +that. In fact, this act verges on insanity." + +And Rogozhinsky began seriously thinking about putting Nekhludoff +under guardianship, and demanded of his wife that she should +speak seriously to her brother about his curious intention. + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +NEKHLUDOFF'S ANARCHISM. + +As soon as Nekhludoff returned that evening and saw his sister's +note on the table he started to go and see her. He found Nathalie +alone, her husband having gone to take a rest in the next room. +She wore a tightly-fitting black silk dress, with a red bow in +front. Her black hair was crimped and arranged according to the +latest fashion. + +The pains she took to appear young, for the sake of her husband, +whose equal she was in years, were very obvious. + +When she saw her brother she jumped up and hurried towards him, +with her silk dress rustling. They kissed, and looked smilingly +at each other. There passed between them that mysterious exchange +of looks, full of meaning, in which all was true, and which +cannot be expressed in words. Then came words which were not +true. They had not met since their mother's death. + +"You have grown stouter and younger," he said, and her lips +puckered up with pleasure. + +"And you have grown thinner." + +"Well, and how is your husband?" Nekhludoff asked. + +"He is taking a rest; he did not sleep all night." There was much +to say, but it was not said in words; only their looks expressed +what their words failed to say. + +"I went to see you." + +"Yes, I know. I moved because the house is too big for me. I was +lonely there, and dull. I want nothing of all that is there, so +that you had better take it all--the furniture, I mean, and +things." + +"Yes, Agraphena Petrovna told me. I went there. Thanks, very +much. But--" + +At this moment the hotel waiter brought in a silver tea-set. +While he set the table they were silent. Then Nathalie sat down +at the table and made the tea, still in silence. Nekhludoff also +said nothing. + +At last Nathalie began resolutely. "Well, Dmitri, I know all +about it." And she looked at him. + +"What of that? l am glad you know." + +"How can you hope to reform her after the life she has led?" she +asked. + +He sat quite straight on a small chair, and listened attentively, +trying to understand her and to answer rightly. The state of mind +called forth in him by his last interview with Maslova still +filled his soul with quiet joy and good will to all men. + +"It is not her but myself I wish to reform," he replied. + +Nathalie sighed. + +"There are other means besides marriage to do that." + +"But I think it is the best. Besides, it leads me into that world +in which I can be of use." + +"I cannot believe you will be happy," said Nathalie. + +"It's not my happiness that is the point." + +"Of course, but if she has a heart she cannot be happy--cannot +even wish it." + +"She does not wish it." + +"I understand; but life--" + +"Yes--life?" + +"Demands something different." + +"It demands nothing but that we should do what is right," said +Nekhludoff, looking into her face, still handsome, though +slightly wrinkled round eyes and mouth. + +"I do not understand," she said, and sighed. + +"Poor darling; how could she change so?" he thought, calling back +to his mind Nathalie as she had been before her marriage, and +feeling towards her a tenderness woven out of innumerable +memories of childhood. At that moment Rogozhinsky entered the +room, with head thrown back and expanded chest, and stepping +lightly and softly in his usual manner, his spectacles, his bald +patch, and his black beard all glistening. + +"How do you do? How do you do?" he said, laying an unnatural and +intentional stress on his words. (Though, soon after the +marriage, they had tried to be more familiar with each other, +they had never succeeded.) + +They shook hands, and Rogozhinsky sank softly into an easy-chair. + +"Am I not interrupting your conversation?" + +"No, I do not wish to hide what I am saying or doing from any +one." + +As soon as Nekhludoff saw the hairy hands, and heard the +patronising, self-assured tones, his meekness left him in a +moment. + +"Yes, we were talking about his intentions," said Nathalie. +"Shall I give you a cup of tea?" she added, taking the teapot. + +"Yes, please. What particular intentions do you mean?" + +"That of going to Siberia with the gang of prisoners, among whom +is the woman I consider myself to have wronged," uttered +Nekhludoff. + +"I hear not only to accompany her, but more than that." + +"Yes, and to marry her if she wishes it." + +"Dear me! But if you do not object I should like to ask you to +explain your motives. I do not understand them." + +"My motives are that this woman--that this woman's first step on +her way to degradation--" Nekhludoff got angry with himself, and +was unable to find the right expression. "My motives are that I +am the guilty one, and she gets the punishment." + +"If she is being punished she cannot be innocent, either." + +"She is quite innocent." And Nekhludoff related the whole +incident with unnecessary warmth. + +"Yes, that was a case of carelessness on the part of the +president, the result of which was a thoughtless answer on the +part of the jury; but there is the Senate for cases like that." + +"The Senate has rejected the appeal." + +"Well, if the Senate has rejected it, there cannot have been +sufficient reasons for an appeal," said Rogozhinsky, evidently +sharing the prevailing opinion that truth is the product of +judicial decrees. "The Senate cannot enter into the question on +its merits. If there is a real mistake, the Emperor should be +petitioned." + +"That has been done, but there is no probability of success. They +will apply to the Department of the Ministry, the Department will +consult the Senate, the Senate will repeat its decision, and, as +usual, the innocent will get punished." + +"In the first place, the Department of the Ministry won't consult +the Senate," said Rogozhinsky, with a condescending smile; "it +will give orders for the original deeds to be sent from the Law +Court, and if it discovers a mistake it will decide accordingly. +And, secondly, the innocent are never punished, or at least in +very rare, exceptional cases. It is the guilty who are punished," +Rogozhinsky said deliberately, and smiled self-complacently. + +"And I have become fully convinced that most of those condemned +by law are innocent." + +"How's that?" + +"Innocent in the literal sense. Just as this woman is innocent of +poisoning any one; as innocent as a peasant I have just come to +know, of the murder he never committed; as a mother and son who +were on the point of being condemned for incendiarism, which was +committed by the owner of the house that was set on fire." + +"Well, of course there always have been and always will be +judicial errors. Human institutions cannot be perfect." + +"And, besides, there are a great many people convicted who are +innocent of doing anything considered wrong by the society they +have grown up in." + +"Excuse me, this is not so; every thief knows that stealing is +wrong, and that we should not steal; that it is immoral," said +Rogozhinsky, with his quiet, self-assured, slightly contemptuous +smile, which specially irritated Nekhludoff. + +"No, he does not know it; they say to him 'don't steal,' and he +knows that the master of the factory steals his labour by keeping +back his wages; that the Government, with its officials, robs him +continually by taxation." + +"Why, this is anarchism," Rogozhinsky said, quietly defining his +brother-in-law's words. + +"I don't know what it is; I am only telling you the truth," +Nekhludoff continued. "He knows that the Government is robbing +him, knows that we landed proprietors have robbed him long since, +robbed him of the land which should be the common property of +all, and then, if he picks up dry wood to light his fire on that +land stolen from him, we put him in jail, and try to persuade him +that he is a thief. Of course he knows that not he but those who +robbed him of the land are thieves, and that to get any +restitution of what has been robbed is his duty towards his +family." + +"I don't understand, or if I do I cannot agree with it. The land +must be somebody's property," began Rogozhinsky quietly, and, +convinced that Nekhludoff was a Socialist, and that Socialism +demands that all the land should be divided equally, that such a +division would be very foolish, and that he could easily prove it +to be so, he said. "If you divided it equally to-day, it would +to-morrow be again in the hands of the most industrious and +clever." + +"Nobody is thinking of dividing the land equally. The land must +not be anybody's property; must not be a thing to be bought and +sold or rented." + +"The rights of property are inborn in man; without them the +cultivation of land would present no interest. Destroy the rights +of property and we lapse into barbarism." Rogozhinsky uttered +this authoritatively, repeating the usual argument in favour of +private ownership of land which is supposed to be irrefutable, +based on the assumption that people's desire to possess land +proves that they need it. + +"On the contrary, only when the land is nobody's property will it +cease to lie idle, as it does now, while the landlords, like dogs +in the manger, unable themselves to put it to use, will not let +those use it who are able." + +"But, Dmitri Ivanovitch, what you are saying is sheer madness. Is +it possible to abolish property in land in our age? I know it is +your old hobby. But allow me to tell you straight," and +Rogozhinsky grew pale, and his voice trembled. It was evident +that this question touched him very nearly. "I should advise you +to consider this question well before attempting to solve it +practically." + +"Are you speaking of my personal affairs?" + +"Yes, I hold that we who are placed in special circumstances +should bear the responsibilities which spring from those +circumstances, should uphold the conditions in which we were +born, and which we have inherited from our predecessors, and +which we ought to pass on to our descendants." + +"I consider it my duty--" + +"Wait a bit," said Rogozhinsky, not permitting the interruption. +"I am not speaking for myself or my children. The position of my +children is assured, and I earn enough for us to live +comfortably, and I expect my children will live so too, so that +my interest in your action--which, if you will allow me to say +so, is not well considered--is not based on personal motives; it +is on principle that I cannot agree with you. I should advise you +to think it well over, to read---?" + +"Please allow me to settle my affairs, and to choose what to read +and what not to read, myself," said Nekhludoff, turning pale. +Feeling his hands grow cold, and that he was no longer master of +himself, he stopped, and began drinking his tea. + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +THE AIM OF THE LAW. + +"Well, and how are the children?" Nekhludoff asked his sister +when he was calmer. The sister told him about the children. She +said they were staying with their grandmother (their father's +mother), and, pleased that his dispute with her husband had come +to an end, she began telling him how her children played that +they were travelling, just as he used to do with his three dolls, +one of them a negro and another which he called the French lady. + +"Can you really remember it all?" said Nekhludoff, smiling. + +"Yes, and just fancy, they play in the very same way." + +The unpleasant conversation had been brought to an end, and +Nathalie was quieter, but she did not care to talk in her +husband's presence of what could be comprehensible only to her +brother, so, wishing to start a general conversation, she began +talking about the sorrow of Kamenski's mother at losing her only +son, who had fallen in a duel, for this Petersburg topic of the +day had now reached Moscow. Rogozhinsky expressed disapproval at +the state of things that excluded murder in a duel from the +ordinary criminal offences. This remark evoked a rejoinder from +Nekhludoff, and a new dispute arose on the subject. Nothing was +fully explained, neither of the antagonists expressed all he had +in his mind, each keeping to his conviction, which condemned the +other. Rogozhinsky felt that Nekhludoff condemned him and +despised his activity, and he wished to show him the injustice of +his opinions. + +Nekhludoff, on the other hand, felt provoked by his +brother-in-law's interference in his affairs concerning the land. +And knowing in his heart of hearts that his sister, her husband, +and their children, as his heirs, had a right to do so, was +indignant that this narrow-minded man persisted with calm +assurance to regard as just and lawful what Nekhludoff no longer +doubted was folly and crime. + +This man's arrogance annoyed Nekhludoff. + +"What could the law do?" he asked. + +"It could sentence one of the two duellists to the mines like an +ordinary murderer." + +Nekhludoff's hands grew cold. + +"Well, and what good would that be?" he asked, hotly. + +"It would be just." + +"As if justice were the aim of the law," said Nekhludoff. + +"What else?" + +"The upholding of class interests! I think the law is only an +instrument for upholding the existing order of things beneficial +to our class." + +"This is a perfectly new view," said Rogozhinsky with a quiet +smile; "the law is generally supposed to have a totally different +aim." + +"Yes, so it has in theory but not in practice, as I have found +out. The law aims only at preserving the present state of things, +and therefore it persecutes and executes those who stand above +the ordinary level and wish to raise it--the so-called political +prisoners, as well as those who are below the average--the +so-called criminal types." + +"I do not agree with you. In the first place, I cannot admit that +the criminals classed as political are punished because they are +above the average. In most cases they are the refuse of society, +just as much perverted, though in a different way, as the +criminal types whom you consider below the average." + +"But I happen to know men who are morally far above their judges; +all the sectarians are moral, from--" + +But Rogozhinsky, a man not accustomed to be interrupted when he +spoke, did not listen to Nekhludoff, but went on talking at the +same time, thereby irritating him still more. + +"Nor can I admit that the object of the law is the upholding of +the present state of things. The law aims at reforming--" + +"A nice kind of reform, in a prison!" Nekhludoff put in. + +"Or removing," Rogozhinsky went on, persistently, "the perverted +and brutalised persons that threaten society." + +"That's just what it doesn't do. Society has not the means of +doing either the one thing or the other." + +"How is that? I don't understand," said Rogozhinsky with a forced +smile. + +"I mean that only two reasonable kinds of punishment exist. Those +used in the old days: corporal and capital punishment, which, as +human nature gradually softens, come more and more into disuse," +said Nekhludoff. + +"There, now, this is quite new and very strange to hear from your +lips." + +"Yes, it is reasonable to hurt a man so that he should not do in +future what he is hurt for doing, and it is also quite reasonable +to cut a man's head off when he is injurious or dangerous to +society. These punishments have a reasonable meaning. But what +sense is there in locking up in a prison a man perverted by want +of occupation and bad example; to place him in a position where +he is provided for, where laziness is imposed on him, and where +he is in company with the most perverted of men? What reason is +there to take a man at public cost (it comes to more than 500 +roubles per head) from the Toula to the Irkoatsk government, or +from Koursk--" + +"Yes, but all the same, people are afraid of those journeys at +public cost, and if it were not for such journeys and the +prisons, you and I would not be sitting here as we are." + +"The prisons cannot insure our safety, because these people do +not stay there for ever, but are set free again. On the contrary, +in those establishments men are brought to the greatest vice and +degradation, so that the danger is increased." + +"You mean to say that the penitentiary system should be +improved." + +"It cannot be improved. Improved prisons would cost more than all +that is being now spent on the people's education, and would lay +a still heavier burden on the people." + +"The shortcomings of the penitentiary system in nowise invalidate +the law itself," Rogozhinsky continued again, without heeding his +brother-in-law. + +"There is no remedy for these shortcomings," said Nekhludoff, +raising his voice. + +"What of that? Shall we therefore go and kill, or, as a certain +statesman proposed, go putting out people's eyes?" Rogozhinsky +remarked. + +"Yes; that would be cruel, but it would be effective. What is +done now is cruel, and not only ineffective, but so stupid that +one cannot understand how people in their senses can take part in +so absurd and cruel a business as criminal law." + +"But I happen to take part in it," said Rogozhinsky, growing +pale. + +"That is your business. But to me it is incomprehensible." + +"I think there are a good many things incomprehensible to you," +said Rogozhinsky, with a trembling voice. + +"I have seen how one public prosecutor did his very best to get +an unfortunate boy condemned, who could have evoked nothing but +sympathy in an unperverted mind. I know how another +cross-examined a sectarian and put down the reading of the +Gospels as a criminal offence; in fact, the whole business of the +Law Courts consists in senseless and cruel actions of that sort." + +"I should not serve if I thought so," said Rogozhinsky, rising. + +Nekhludoff noticed a peculiar glitter under his brother-in-law's +spectacles. "Can it be tears?" he thought. And they were really +tears of injured pride. Rogozhinsky went up to the window, got +out his handkerchief, coughed and rubbed his spectacles, took +them off, and wiped his eyes. + +When he returned to the sofa he lit a cigar, and did not speak +any more. + +Nekhludoff felt pained and ashamed of having offended his +brother-in-law and his sister to such a degree, especially as he +was going away the next day. + +He parted with them in confusion, and drove home. + +"All I have said may be true--anyhow he did not reply. But it was +not said in the right way. How little I must have changed if I +could be carried away by ill-feeling to such an extent as to hurt +and wound poor Nathalie in such a way!" he thought. + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +THE PRISONERS START FOR SIBERIA. + +The gang of prisoners, among whom was Maslova, was to leave +Moscow by rail at 3 p.m.; therefore, in order to see the gang +start, and walk to the station with the prisoners Nekhludoff +meant to reach the prison before 12 o'clock. + +The night before, as he was packing up and sorting his papers, he +came upon his diary, and read some bits here and there. The last +bit written before he left for Petersburg ran thus: "Katusha +does not wish to accept my sacrifice; she wishes to make a +sacrifice herself. She has conquered, and so have I. She makes me +happy by the inner change, which seems to me, though I fear to +believe it, to be going on in her. I fear to believe it, yet she +seems to be coming back to life." Then further on he read. "I +have lived through something very hard and very joyful. I learnt +that she has behaved very badly in the hospital, and I suddenly +felt great pain. I never expected that it could be so painful. I +spoke to her with loathing and hatred, then all of a sudden I +called to mind how many times I have been, and even still am, +though but in thought, guilty of the thing that I hated her for, +and immediately I became disgusting to myself, and pitied her and +felt happy again. If only we could manage to see the beam in our +own eye in time, how kind we should be." Then he wrote: "I have +been to see Nathalie, and again self-satisfaction made me unkind +and spiteful, and a heavy feeling remains. Well, what is to be +done? Tomorrow a new life will begin. A final good-bye to the +old! Many new impressions have accumulated, but I cannot yet +bring them to unity." + +When he awoke the next morning Nekhludoff's first feeling was +regret about the affair between him and his brother-in-law. + +"I cannot go away like this," he thought. "I must go and make it +up with them." But when he looked at his watch he saw that he had +not time to go, but must hurry so as not to be too late for the +departure of the gang. He hastily got everything ready, and sent +the things to the station with a servant and Taras, Theodosia's +husband, who was going with them. Then he took the first +isvostchik he could find and drove off to the prison. + +The prisoners' train started two hours before the train by which +he was going, so Nekhludoff paid his bill in the lodgings and +left for good. + +It was July, and the weather was unbearably hot. From the stones, +the walls, the iron of the roofs, which the sultry night had not +cooled, the heat streamed into the motionless air. When at rare +intervals a slight breeze did arise, it brought but a whiff of +hot air filled with dust and smelling of oil paint. + +There were few people in the streets, and those who were out +tried to keep on the shady side. Only the sunburnt peasants, with +their bronzed faces and bark shoes on their feet, who were +mending the road, sat hammering the stones into the burning sand +in the sun; while the policemen, in their holland blouses, with +revolvers fastened with orange cords, stood melancholy and +depressed in the middle of the road, changing from foot to foot; +and the tramcars, the horses of which wore holland hoods on their +heads, with slits for the ears, kept passing up and down the +sunny road with ringing bells. + +When Nekhludoff drove up to the prison the gang had not left the +yard. The work of delivering and receiving the prisoners that had +commenced at 4 A.M. was still going on. The gang was to consist +of 623 men and 64 women; they had all to be received according to +the registry lists. The sick and the weak to be sorted out, and +all to be delivered to the convoy. The new inspector, with two +assistants, the doctor and medical assistant, the officer of the +convoy, and the clerk, were sitting in the prison yard at a table +covered with writing materials and papers, which was placed in +the shade of a wall. They called the prisoners one by one, +examined and questioned them, and took notes. The rays of the sun +had gradually reached the table, and it was growing very hot and +oppressive for want of air and because of the breathing crowd of +prisoners that stood close by. + +"Good gracious, will this never come to an end!" the convoy +officer, a tall, fat, red-faced man with high shoulders, who kept +puffing the smoke, of his cigarette into his thick moustache, +asked, as he drew in a long puff. "You are killing me. From where +have you got them all? Are there many more?" the clerk inquired. + +"Twenty-four men and the women." + +"What are you standing there for? Come on," shouted the convoy +officer to the prisoners who had not yet passed the revision, and +who stood crowded one behind the other. The prisoners had been +standing there more than three hours, packed in rows in the full +sunlight, waiting their turns. + +While this was going on in the prison yard, outside the gate, +besides the sentinel who stood there as usual with a gun, were +drawn up about 20 carts, to carry the luggage of the prisoners +and such prisoners as were too weak to walk, and a group of +relatives and friends waiting to see the prisoners as they came +out and to exchange a few words if a chance presented itself and +to give them a few things. Nekhludoff took his place among the +group. He had stood there about an hour when the clanking of +chains, the noise of footsteps, authoritative voices, the sound +of coughing, and the low murmur of a large crowd became audible. + +This continued for about five minutes, during which several +jailers went in and out of the gateway. At last the word of +command was given. The gate opened with a thundering noise, the +clattering of the chains became louder, and the convoy soldiers, +dressed in white blouses and carrying guns, came out into the +street and took their places in a large, exact circle in front of +the gate; this was evidently a usual, often-practised manoeuvre. +Then another command was given, and the prisoners began coming +out in couples, with flat, pancake-shaped caps on their shaved +heads and sacks over their shoulders, dragging their chained legs +and swinging one arm, while the other held up a sack. + +First came the men condemned to hard labour, all dressed alike in +grey trousers and cloaks with marks on the back. All of +them--young and old, thin and fat, pale and red, dark and bearded +and beardless, Russians, Tartars, and Jews--came out, clattering +with their chains and briskly swinging their arms as if prepared +to go a long distance, but stopped after having taken ten steps, +and obediently took their places behind each other, four abreast. +Then without interval streamed out more shaved men, dressed in +the same manner but with chains only on their legs. These were +condemned to exile. They came out as briskly and stopped as +suddenly, taking their places four in a row. Then came those +exiled by their Communes. Then the women in the same order, first +those condemned to hard labour, with grey cloaks and kerchiefs; +then the exiled women, and those following their husbands of +their own free will, dressed in their own town or village +clothing. Some of the women were carrying babies wrapped in the +fronts of their grey cloaks. + +With the women came the children, boys and girls, who, like colts +in a herd of horses, pressed in among the prisoners. + +The men took their places silently, only coughing now and then, +or making short remarks. + +The women talked without intermission. Nekhludoff thought he saw +Maslova as they were coming out, but she was at once lost in the +large crowd, and he could only see grey creatures, seemingly +devoid of all that was human, or at any rate of all that was +womanly, with sacks on their backs and children round them, +taking their places behind the men. + +Though all the prisoners had been counted inside the prison +walls, the convoy counted them again, comparing the numbers with +the list. This took very long, especially as some of the +prisoners moved and changed places, which confused the convoy. + +The convoy soldiers shouted and pushed the prisoners (who +complied obediently, but angrily) and counted them over again. +When all had been counted, the convoy officer gave a command, and +the crowd became agitated. The weak men and women and children +rushed, racing each other, towards the carts, and began placing +their bags on the carts and climbing up themselves. Women with +crying babies, merry children quarrelling for places, and dull, +careworn prisoners got into the carts. + +Several of the prisoners took off their caps and came up to the +convoy officer with some request. Nekhludoff found out later that +they were asking for places on the carts. Nekhludoff saw how the +officer, without looking at the prisoners, drew in a whiff from +his cigarette, and then suddenly waved his short arm in front of +one of the prisoners, who quickly drew his shaved head back +between his shoulders as if afraid of a blow, and sprang back. + +"I will give you a lift such that you'll remember. You'll get +there on foot right enough," shouted the officer. Only one of the +men was granted his request--an old man with chains on his legs; +and Nekhludoff saw the old man take off his pancake-shaped cap, +and go up to the cart crossing himself. He could not manage to +get up on the cart because of the chains that prevented his +lifting his old legs, and a woman who was sitting in the cart at +last pulled him in by the arm. + +When all the sacks were in the carts, and those who were allowed +to get in were seated, the officer took off his cap, wiped his +forehead, his bald head and fat, red neck, and crossed himself. + +"March," commanded the officer. The soldiers' guns gave a click; +the prisoners took off their caps and crossed themselves, those +who were seeing them off shouted something, the prisoners shouted +in answer, a row arose among the women, and the gang, surrounded +by the soldiers in their white blouses, moved forward, raising +the dust with their chained feet. The soldiers went in front; +then came the convicts condemned to hard labour, clattering with +their chains; then the exiled and those exiled by the Communes, +chained in couples by their wrists; then the women. After them, +on the carts loaded with sacks, came the weak. High up on one of +the carts sat a woman closely wrapped up, and she kept shrieking +and sobbing. + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +NOT MEN BUT STRANGE AND TERRIBLE CREATURES? + +The procession was such a long one that the carts with the +luggage and the weak started only when those in front were +already out of sight. When the last of the carts moved, +Nekhludoff got into the trap that stood waiting for him and told +the isvostchik to catch up the prisoners in front, so that he +could see if he knew any of the men in the gang, and then try and +find out Maslova among the women and ask her if she had received +the things he sent. + +It was very hot, and a cloud of dust that was raised by a +thousand tramping feet stood all the time over the gang that was +moving down the middle of the street. The prisoners were walking +quickly, and the slow-going isvostchik's horse was some time in +catching them up. Row upon row they passed, those strange and +terrible-looking creatures, none of whom Nekhludoff knew. + +On they went, all dressed alike, moving a thousand feet all shod +alike, swinging their free arms as if to keep up their spirits. +There were so many of them, they all looked so much alike, and +they were all placed in such unusual, peculiar circumstances, +that they seemed to Nekhludoff to be not men but some sort of +strange and terrible creatures. This impression passed when he +recognised in the crowd of convicts the murderer Federoff, and +among the exiles Okhotin the wit, and another tramp who had +appealed to him for assistance. Almost all the prisoners turned +and looked at the trap that was passing them and at the gentleman +inside. Federoff tossed his head backwards as a sign that he had +recognised Nekhludoff, Okhotin winked, but neither of them bowed, +considering it not the thing. + +As soon as Nekhludoff came up to the women he saw Maslova; she +was in the second row. The first in the row was a short-legged, +black-eyed, hideous woman, who had her cloak tucked up in her +girdle. This was Koroshavka. The next was a pregnant woman, who +dragged herself along with difficulty. The third was Maslova; she +was carrying her sack on her shoulder, and looking straight +before her. Her face looked calm and determined. The fourth in +the row was a young, lovely woman who was walking along briskly, +dressed in a short cloak, her kerchief tied in peasant fashion. +This was Theodosia. + +Nekhludoff got down and approached the women, meaning to ask +Maslova if she had got the things he had sent her, and how she +was feeling, but the convoy sergeant, who was walking on that +side, noticed him at once, and ran towards him. + +"You must not do that, sir. It is against the regulations to +approach the gang," shouted the sergeant as he came up. + +But when he recognised Nekhludoff (every one in the prison knew +Nekhludoff) the sergeant raised his fingers to his cap, and, +stopping in front of Nekhludoff, said: "Not now; wait till we get +to the railway station; here it is not allowed. Don't lag behind; +march!" he shouted to the convicts, and putting on a brisk air, +he ran back to his place at a trot, in spite of the heat and the +elegant new boots on his feet. + +Nekhludoff went on to the pavement and told the isvostchik to +follow him; himself walking, so as to keep the convicts in sight. +Wherever the gang passed it attracted attention mixed with horror +and compassion. Those who drove past leaned out of the vehicles +and followed the prisoners with their eyes. Those on foot stopped +and looked with fear and surprise at the terrible sight. Some +came up and gave alms to the prisoners. The alms were received by +the convoy. Some, as if they were hypnotised, followed the gang, +but then stopped, shook their heads, and followed the prisoners +only with their eyes. Everywhere the people came out of the gates +and doors, and called others to come out, too, or leaned out of +the windows looking, silent and immovable, at the frightful +procession. At a cross-road a fine carriage was stopped by the +gang. A fat coachman, with a shiny face and two rows of buttons +on his back, sat on the box; a married couple sat facing the +horses, the wife, a pale, thin woman, with a light-coloured +bonnet on her head and a bright sunshade in her hand, the husband +with a top-hat and a well-cut light-coloured overcoat. On the +seat in front sat their children--a well-dressed little girl, +with loose, fair hair, and as fresh as a flower, who also held a +bright parasol, and an eight-year-old boy, with a long, thin neck +and sharp collarbones, a sailor hat with long ribbons on his +head. + +The father was angrily scolding the coachman because he had not +passed in front of the gang when he had a chance, and the mother +frowned and half closed her eyes with a look of disgust, +shielding herself from the dust and the sun with her silk +sunshade, which she held close to her face. + +The fat coachman frowned angrily at the unjust rebukes of his +master--who had himself given the order to drive along that +street--and with difficulty held in the glossy, black horses, +foaming under their harness and impatient to go on. + +The policeman wished with all his soul to please the owner of the +fine equipage by stopping the gang, yet felt that the dismal +solemnity of the procession could not be broken even for so rich +a gentleman. He only raised his fingers to his cap to show his +respect for riches, and looked severely at the prisoners as if +promising in any case to protect the owners of the carriage from +them. So the carriage had to wait till the whole of the +procession had passed, and could only move on when the last of +the carts, laden with sacks and prisoners, rattled by. The +hysterical woman who sat on one of the carts, and had grown calm, +again began shrieking and sobbing when she saw the elegant +carriage. Then the coachman tightened the reins with a slight +touch, and the black trotters, their shoes ringing against the +paving stones, drew the carriage, softly swaying on its rubber +tires, towards the country house where the husband, the wife, the +girl, and the boy with the sharp collar-bones were going to amuse +themselves. Neither the father nor the mother gave the girl and +boy any explanation of what they had seen, so that the children +had themselves to find out the meaning of this curious sight. The +girl, taking the expression of her father's and mother's faces +into consideration, solved the problem by assuming that these +people were quite another kind of men and women than her father +and mother and their acquaintances, that they were bad people, +and that they had therefore to be treated in the manner they were +being treated. + +Therefore the girl felt nothing but fear, and was glad when she +could no longer see those people. + +But the boy with the long, thin neck, who looked at the +procession of prisoners without taking his eyes off them, solved +the question differently. + +He still knew, firmly and without any doubt, for he had it from +God, that these people were just the same kind of people as he +was, and like all other people, and therefore some one had done +these people some wrong, something that ought not to have been +done, and he was sorry for them, and felt no horror either of +those who were shaved and chained or of those who had shaved and +chained them. And so the boy's lips pouted more and more, and he +made greater and greater efforts not to cry, thinking it a shame +to cry in such a case. + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +THE TENDER MERCIES OF THE LORD. + +Nekhludoff kept up with the quick pace of the convicts. Though +lightly clothed he felt dreadfully hot, and it was hard to +breathe in the stifling, motionless, burning air filled with +dust. + +When he had walked about a quarter of a mile he again got into +the trap, but it felt still hotter in the middle of the street. +He tried to recall last night's conversation with his +brother-in-law, but the recollections no longer excited him as +they had done in the morning. They were dulled by the impressions +made by the starting and procession of the gang, and chiefly by +the intolerable heat. + +On the pavement, in the shade of some trees overhanging a fence, +he saw two schoolboys standing over a kneeling man who sold ices. +One of the boys was already sucking a pink spoon and enjoying his +ices, the other was waiting for a glass that was being filled +with something yellowish. + +"Where could I get a drink?" Nekhludoff asked his isvostchik, +feeling an insurmountable desire for some refreshment. + +"There is a good eating-house close by," the isvostchik answered, +and turning a corner, drove up to a door with a large signboard. +The plump clerk in a Russian shirt, who stood behind the counter, +and the waiters in their once white clothing who sat at the +tables (there being hardly any customers) looked with curiosity +at the unusual visitor and offered him their services. Nekhludoff +asked for a bottle of seltzer water and sat down some way from +the window at a small table covered with a dirty cloth. Two men +sat at another table with tea-things and a white bottle in front +of them, mopping their foreheads, and calculating something in a +friendly manner. One of them was dark and bald, and had just such +a border of hair at the back as Rogozhinsky. This sight again +reminded Nekhludoff of yesterday's talk with his brother-in-law +and his wish to see him and Nathalie. + +"I shall hardly be able to do it before the train starts," he +thought; "I'd better write." He asked for paper, an envelope, and +a stamp, and as he was sipping the cool, effervescent water he +considered what he should say. But his thoughts wandered, and he +could not manage to compose a letter. + +"My dear Nathalie,--I cannot go away with the heavy impression +that yesterday's talk with your husband has left," he began. +"What next? Shall I ask him to forgive me what I said yesterday? +But I only said what I felt, and he will think that I am taking +it back. Besides, this interference of his in my private matters. +. . . No, I cannot," and again he felt hatred rising in his heart +towards that man so foreign to him. He folded the unfinished +letter and put it in his pocket, paid, went out, and again got +into the trap to catch up the gang. It had grown still hotter. +The stones and the walls seemed to be breathing out hot air. The +pavement seemed to scorch the feet, and Nekhludoff felt a burning +sensation in his hand when he touched the lacquered splashguard +of his trap. + +The horse was jogging along at a weary trot, beating the uneven, +dusty road monotonously with its hoofs, the isvostchik kept +falling into a doze, Nekhludoff sat without thinking of anything. + +At the bottom of a street, in front of a large house, a group of +people had collected, and a convoy soldier stood by. + +"What has happened?" Nekhludoff asked of a porter. + +"Something the matter with a convict." + +Nekhludoff got down and came up to the group. On the rough +stones, where the pavement slanted down to the gutter, lay a +broadly-built, red-bearded, elderly convict, with his head lower +than his feet, and very red in the face. He had a grey cloak and +grey trousers on, and lay on his back with the palms of his +freckled hands downwards, and at long intervals his broad, high +chest heaved, and he groaned, while his bloodshot eyes were fixed +on the sky. By him stood a cross-looking policeman, a pedlar, a +postman, a clerk, an old woman with a parasol, and a short-haired +boy with an empty basket. + +"They are weak. Having been locked up in prison they've got weak, +and then they lead them through the most broiling heat," said the +clerk, addressing Nekhludoff, who had just come up. + +"He'll die, most likely," said the woman with the parasol, in a +doleful tone. + +"His shirt should be untied," said the postman. + +The policeman began, with his thick, trembling fingers, clumsily +to untie the tapes that fastened the shirt round the red, sinewy +neck. He was evidently excited and confused, but still thought it +necessary to address the crowd. + +"What have you collected here for? It is hot enough without your +keeping the wind off." + +"They should have been examined by a doctor, and the weak ones +left behind," said the clerk, showing off his knowledge of the +law. + +The policeman, having undone the tapes of the shirt, rose and +looked round. + +"Move on, I tell you. It is not your business, is it? What's +there to stare at?" he said, and turned to Nekhludoff for +sympathy, but not finding any in his face he turned to the convoy +soldier. + +But the soldier stood aside, examining the trodden-down heel of +his boot, and was quite indifferent to the policeman's +perplexity. + +"Those whose business it is don't care. Is it right to do men to +death like this? A convict is a convict, but still he is a man," +different voices were heard saying in the crowd. + +"Put his head up higher, and give him some water," said +Nekhludoff. + +"Water has been sent for," said the policeman, and taking the +prisoner under the arms he with difficulty pulled his body a +little higher up. + +"What's this gathering here?" said a decided, authoritative +voice, and a police officer, with a wonderfully clean, shiny +blouse, and still more shiny top-boots, came up to the assembled +crowd. + +"Move on. No standing about here," he shouted to the crowd, +before he knew what had attracted it. + +When he came near and saw the dying convict, he made a sign of +approval with his head, just as if he had quite expected it, and, +turning to the policeman, said, "How is this?" + +The policeman said that, as a gang of prisoners was passing, one +of the convicts had fallen down, and the convoy officer had +ordered him to be left behind. + +"Well, that's all right. He must be taken to the police station. +Call an isvostchik." + +"A porter has gone for one," said the policeman, with his fingers +raised to his cap. + +The shopman began something about the heat. + +"Is it your business, eh? Move on," said the police officer, and +looked so severely at him that the clerk was silenced. + +"He ought to have a little water," said Nekhludoff. The police +officer looked severely at Nekhludoff also, but said nothing. +When the porter brought a mug full of water, he told the +policeman to offer some to the convict. The policeman raised the +drooping head, and tried to pour a little water down the mouth; +but the prisoner could not swallow it, and it ran down his beard, +wetting his jacket and his coarse, dirty linen shirt. + +"Pour it on his head," ordered the officer; and the policeman +took off the pancake-shaped cap and poured the water over the red +curls and bald part of the prisoner's head. His eyes opened wide +as if in fear, but his position remained unchanged. + +Streams of dirt trickled down his dusty face, but the mouth +continued to gasp in the same regular way, and his whole body +shook. + +"And what's this? Take this one," said the police officer, +pointing to Nekhludoff's isvostchik. "You, there, drive up." + +"I am engaged," said the isvostchik, dismally, and without +looking up. + +"It is my isvostchik; but take him. I will pay you," said +Nekhludoff, turning to the isvostchik. + +"Well, what are you waiting for?" shouted the officer. "Catch +hold." + +The policeman, the porter, and the convoy soldier lifted the +dying man and carried him to the trap, and put him on the seat. +But he could not sit up; his head fell back, and the whole of his +body glided off the seat. + +"Make him lie down," ordered the officer. + +"It's all right, your honour; I'll manage him like this," said +the policeman, sitting down by the dying man, and clasping his +strong, right arm round the body under the arms. The convoy +soldier lifted the stockingless feet, in prison shoes, and put +them into the trap. + +The police officer looked around, and noticing the pancake-shaped +hat of the convict lifted it up and put it on the wet, drooping +head. + +"Go on," he ordered. + +The isvostchik looked angrily round, shook his head, and, +accompanied by the convoy soldier, drove back to the police +station. The policeman, sitting beside the convict, kept dragging +up the body that was continually sliding down from the seat, +while the head swung from side to side. + +The convoy soldier, who was walking by the side of the trap, kept +putting the legs in their place. Nekhludoff followed the trap. + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +SPILLED LIKE WATER ON THE GROUND. + +The trap passed the fireman who stood sentinel at the entrance, +[the headquarters of the fire brigade and the police stations are +generally together in Moscow] drove into the yard of the police +station, and stopped at one of the doors. In the yard several +firemen with their sleeves tucked up were washing some kind of +cart and talking loudly. When the trap stopped, several policemen +surrounded it, and taking the lifeless body of the convict under +the arms, took him out of the trap, which creaked under him. The +policeman who had brought the body got down, shook his numbed +arm, took off his cap, and crossed himself. The body was carried +through the door and up the stairs. Nekhludoff followed. In the +small, dirty room where the body was taken there stood four beds. +On two of them sat a couple of sick men in dressing-gowns, one +with a crooked mouth, whose neck was bandaged, the other one in +consumption. Two of the beds were empty; the convict was laid on +one of them. A little man, with glistening eyes and continually +moving brows, with only his underclothes and stockings on, came +up with quick, soft steps, looked at the convict and then at +Nekhludoff, and burst into loud laughter. This was a madman who +was being kept in the police hospital. + +"They wish to frighten me, but no, they won't succeed," he said. + +The policemen who carried the corpse were followed by a police +officer and a medical assistant. The medical assistant came up to +the body and touched the freckled hand, already growing cold, +which, though still soft, was deadly pale. He held it for a +moment, and then let it go. It fell lifelessly on the stomach of +the dead man. + +"He's ready," said the medical assistant, but, evidently to be +quite in order, he undid the wet, brown shirt, and tossing back +the curls from his ear, put it to the yellowish, broad, immovable +chest of the convict. All were silent. The medical assistant +raised himself again, shook his head, and touched with his +fingers first one and then the other lid over the open, fixed +blue eyes. + +"I'm not frightened, I'm not frightened." The madman kept +repeating these words, and spitting in the direction of the +medical assistant. + +"Well?" asked the police officer. + +"Well! He must be put into the mortuary." + +"Are you sure? Mind," said the police officer. + +"It's time I should know," said the medical assistant, drawing +the shirt over the body's chest. "However, I will send for +Mathew Ivanovitch. Let him have a look. Petrov, call him," and +the medical assistant stepped away from the body. + +"Take him to the mortuary," said the police officer. "And then +you must come into the office and sign," he added to the convoy +soldier, who had not left the convict for a moment. + +"Yes, sir," said the soldier. + +The policemen lifted the body and carried it down again. +Nekhludoff wished to follow, but the madman kept him back. + +"You are not in the plot! Well, then, give me a cigarette," he +said. Nekhludoff got out his cigarette case and gave him one. + +The madman, quickly moving his brows all the time, began relating +how they tormented him by thought suggestion. + +"Why, they are all against me, and torment and torture me through +their mediums." + +"I beg your pardon," said Nekhludoff, and without listening any +further he left the room and went out into the yard, wishing to +know where the body would be put. + +The policemen with their burden had already crossed the yard, and +were coming to the door of a cellar. Nekhludoff wished to go up +to them, but the police officer stopped him. + +"What do you want?" + +"Nothing." + +"Nothing? Then go away." + +Nekhludoff obeyed, and went back to his isvostchik, who was +dozing. He awoke him, and they drove back towards the railway +station. + +They had not made a hundred steps when they met a cart +accompanied by a convoy soldier with a gun. On the cart lay +another convict, who was already dead. The convict lay on his +back in the cart, his shaved head, from which the pancake-shaped +cap had slid over the black-bearded face down to the nose, +shaking and thumping at every jolt. The driver, in his heavy +boots, walked by the side of the cart, holding the reins; a +policeman followed on foot. Nekhludoff touched his isvostchik's +shoulder. + +"Just look what they are doing," said the isvostchik, stopping +his horse. + +Nekhludoff got down and, following the cart, again passed the +sentinel and entered the gate of the police station. By this time +the firemen had finished washing the cart, and a tall, bony man, +the chief of the fire brigade, with a coloured band round his +cap, stood in their place, and, with his hands in his pockets, +was severely looking at a fat-necked, well-fed, bay stallion that +was being led up and down before him by a fireman. The stallion +was lame on one of his fore feet, and the chief of the firemen +was angrily saying something to a veterinary who stood by. + +The police officer was also present. When he saw the cart he went +up to the convoy soldier. + +"Where did you bring him from?" he asked, shaking his head +disapprovingly. + +"From the Gorbatovskaya," answered the policeman. + +"A prisoner?" asked the chief of the fire brigade. + +"Yes. It's the second to-day." + +"Well, I must say they've got some queer arrangements. Though of +course it's a broiling day," said the chief of the fire brigade; +then, turning to the fireman who was leading the lame stallion, +he shouted: "Put him into the corner stall. And as to you, you +hound, I'll teach you how to cripple horses which are worth more +than you are, you scoundrel." + +The dead man was taken from the cart by the policemen just in the +same way as the first had been, and carried upstairs into the +hospital. Nekhludoff followed them as if he were hypnotised. + +"What do you want?" asked one of the policemen. But Nekhludoff +did not answer, and followed where the body was being carried. +The madman, sitting on a bed, was smoking greedily the cigarette +Nekhludoff had given him. + +"Ah, you've come back," he said, and laughed. When he saw the +body he made a face, and said, "Again! I am sick of it. I am not +a boy, am I, eh?" and he turned to Nekhludoff with a questioning +smile. + +Nekhludoff was looking at the dead man, whose face, which had +been hidden by his cap, was now visible. This convict was as +handsome in face and body as the other was hideous. He was a man +in the full bloom of life. Notwithstanding that he was disfigured +by the half of his head being shaved, the straight, rather low +forehead, raised a bit over the black, lifeless eyes, was very +fine, and so was the nose above the thin, black moustaches. There +was a smile on the lips that were already growing blue, a small +beard outlined the lower part of the face, and on the shaved side +of the head a firm, well-shaped ear was visible. + +One could see what possibilities of a higher life had been +destroyed in this man. The fine bones of his hands and shackled +feet, the strong muscles of all his well-proportioned limbs, +showed what a beautiful, strong, agile human animal this had +been. As an animal merely he had been a far more perfect one of +his kind than the bay stallion, about the laming of which the +fireman was so angry. + +Yet he had been done to death, and no one was sorry for him as a +man, nor was any one sorry that so fine a working animal had +perished. The only feeling evinced was that of annoyance because +of the bother caused by the necessity of getting this body, +threatening putrefaction, out of the way. The doctor and his +assistant entered the hospital, accompanied by the inspector of +the police station. The doctor was a thick-set man, dressed in +pongee silk coat and trousers of the same material, closely +fitting his muscular thighs. The inspector was a little fat +fellow, with a red face, round as a ball, which he made still +broader by a habit he had of filling his cheeks with air, and +slowly letting it out again. The doctor sat down on the bed by +the side of the dead man, and touched the hands in the same way +as his assistant had done, put his ear to the heart, rose, and +pulled his trousers straight. "Could not be more dead," he said. + +The inspector filled his mouth with air and slowly blew it out +again. + +"Which prison is he from?" he asked the convoy soldier. + +The soldier told him, and reminded him of the chains on the dead +man's feet. + +"I'll have them taken off; we have got a smith about, the Lord be +thanked," said the inspector, and blew up his cheeks again; he +went towards the door, slowly letting out the air. + +"Why has this happened?" Nekhludoff asked the doctor. + +The doctor looked at him through his spectacles. + +"Why has what happened? Why they die of sunstroke, you mean? This +is why: They sit all through the winter without exercise and +without light, and suddenly they are taken out into the sunshine, +and on a day like this, and they march in a crowd so that they +get no air, and sunstroke is the result." + +"Then why are they sent out?" + +"Oh, as to that, go and ask those who send them. But may I ask +who are you?" + +"I am a stranger." + +"Ah, well, good-afternoon; I have no time." The doctor was vexed; +he gave his trousers a downward pull, and went towards the beds +of the sick. + +"Well, how are you getting on?" he asked the pale man with the +crooked mouth and bandaged neck. + +Meanwhile the madman sat on a bed, and having finished his +cigarette, kept spitting in the direction of the doctor. + +Nekhludoff went down into the yard and out of the gate past the +firemen's horses and the hens and the sentinel in his brass +helmet, and got into the trap, the driver of which had again +fallen asleep. + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +THE CONVICT TRAIN. + +When Nekhludoff came to the station, the prisoners were all +seated in railway carriages with grated windows. Several persons, +come to see them off, stood on the platform, but were not allowed +to come up to the carriages. + +The convoy was much troubled that day. On the way from the prison +to the station, besides the two Nekhludoff had seen, three other +prisoners had fallen and died of sunstroke. One was taken to the +nearest police station like the first two, and the other two died +at the railway station. [In Moscow, in the beginning of the eighth +decade of this century, five convicts died of sunstroke in one +day on their way from the Boutyrki prison to the Nijni railway +station.] The convoy men were not troubled because five men who +might have been alive died while in their charge. This did not +trouble them, but they were concerned lest anything that the law +required in such cases should be omitted. To convey the bodies to +the places appointed, to deliver up their papers, to take them +off the lists of those to be conveyed to Nijni--all this was very +troublesome, especially on so hot a day. + +It was this that occupied the convoy men, and before it could all +be accomplished Nekhludoff and the others who asked for leave to +go up to the carriages were not allowed to do so. Nekhludoff, +however, was soon allowed to go up, because he tipped the convoy +sergeant. The sergeant let Nekhludoff pass, but asked him to be +quick and get his talk over before any of the authorities +noticed. There were 15 carriages in all, and except one carriage +for the officials, they were full of prisoners. As Nekhludoff +passed the carriages he listened to what was going on in them. In +all the carriages was heard the clanging of chains, the sound of +bustle, mixed with loud and senseless language, but not a word +was being said about their dead fellow-prisoners. The talk was +all about sacks, drinking water, and the choice of seats. + +Looking into one of the carriages, Nekhludoff saw convoy soldiers +taking the manacles off the hands of the prisoners. The prisoners +held out their arms, and one of the soldiers unlocked the +manacles with a key and took them off; the other collected them. + +After he had passed all the other carriages, Nekhludoff came up +to the women's carriages. From the second of these he heard a +woman's groans: "Oh, oh, oh! O God! Oh, oh! O God!" + +Nekhludoff passed this carriage and went up to a window of the +third carriage, which a soldier pointed out to him. When he +approached his face to the window, he felt the hot air, filled +with the smell of perspiration, coming out of it, and heard +distinctly the shrill sound of women's voices. All the seats were +filled with red, perspiring, loudly-talking women, dressed in +prison cloaks and white jackets. Nekhludoff's face at the window +attracted their attention. Those nearest ceased talking and drew +closer. Maslova, in her white jacket and her head uncovered, sat +by the opposite window. The white-skinned, smiling Theodosia sat +a little nearer. When she recognised Nekhludoff, she nudged +Maslova and pointed to the window. Maslova rose hurriedly, threw +her kerchief over her black hair, and with a smile on her hot, +red face came up to the window and took hold of one of the bars. + +"Well, it is hot," she said, with a glad smile. + +"Did you get the things?" + +"Yes, thank you." + +"Is there anything more you want?" asked Nekhludoff, while the +air came out of the hot carriage as out of an oven. + +"I want nothing, thank you." + +"If we could get a drink?" said Theodosia. + +"Yes, if we could get a drink," repeated Maslova. + +"Why, have you not got any water?" + +"They put some in, but it is all gone." + +"Directly, I will ask one of the convoy men. Now we shall not see +each other till we get to Nijni." + +"Why? Are you going?" said Maslova, as if she did not know it, +and looked joyfully at Nekhludoff. + +"I am going by the next train." + +Maslova said nothing, but only sighed deeply. + +"Is it true, sir, that 12 convicts have been done to death?" said +a severe-looking old prisoner with a deep voice like a man's. + +It was Korableva. + +"I did not hear of 12; I have seen two," said Nekhludoff. + +"They say there were 12 they killed. And will nothing be done to +them? Only think! The fiends!" + +"And have none of the women fallen ill?" Nekhludoff asked. + +"Women are stronger," said another of the prisoners--a short +little woman, and laughed; "only there's one that has taken it +into her head to be delivered. There she goes," she said, +pointing to the next carriage, whence proceeded the groans. + +"You ask if we want anything," said Maslova, trying to keep the +smile of joy from her lips; "could not this woman be left behind, +suffering as she is? There, now, if you would tell the +authorities." + +"Yes, I will." + +"And one thing more; could she not see her husband, Taras?" she +added, pointing with her eyes to the smiling Theodosia. + +"He is going with you, is he not?" + +"Sir, you must not talk," said a convoy sergeant, not the one who +had let Nekhludoff come up. Nekhludoff left the carriage and went +in search of an official to whom he might speak for the woman in +travail and about Taras, but could not find him, nor get an +answer from any of the convoy for a long time. They were all in a +bustle; some were leading a prisoner somewhere or other, others +running to get themselves provisions, some were placing their +things in the carriages or attending on a lady who was going to +accompany the convoy officer, and they answered Nekhludoff's +questions unwillingly. Nekhludoff found the convoy officer only +after the second bell had been rung. The officer with his short +arm was wiping the moustaches that covered his mouth and +shrugging his shoulders, reproving the corporal for something or +other. + +"What is it you want?" he asked Nekhludoff. + +"You've got a woman there who is being confined, so I thought +best--" + +"Well, let her be confined; we shall see later on," and briskly +swinging his short arms, he ran up to his carriage. At the moment +the guard passed with a whistle in his hand, and from the people +on the platform and from the women's carriages there arose a +sound of weeping and words of prayer. + +Nekhludoff stood on the platform by the side of Taras, and looked +how, one after the other, the carriages glided past him, with the +shaved heads of the men at the grated windows. Then the first of +the women's carriages came up, with women's heads at the windows, +some covered with kerchiefs and some uncovered, then the second, +whence proceeded the same groans, then the carriage where Maslova +was. She stood with the others at the window, and looked at +Nekhludoff with a pathetic smile. + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +BROTHER AND SISTER. + +There were still two hours before the passenger train by which +Nekhludoff was going would start. He had thought of using this +interval to see his sister again; but after the impressions of +the morning he felt much excited and so done up that, sitting +down on a sofa in the first-class refreshment-room, he suddenly +grew so drowsy that he turned over on to his side, and, laying +his face on his hand, fell asleep at once. A waiter in a dress +coat with a napkin in his hand woke him. + +"Sir, sir, are you not Prince Nekhludoff? There's a lady looking +for you." + +Nekhludoff started up and recollected where he was and all that +had happened in the morning. + +He saw in his imagination the procession of prisoners, the dead +bodies, the railway carriages with barred windows, and the women +locked up in them, one of whom was groaning in travail with no +one to help her, and another who was pathetically smiling at him +through the bars. + +The reality before his eyes was very different, i.e., a table +with vases, candlesticks and crockery, and agile waiters moving +round the table, and in the background a cupboard and a counter +laden with fruit and bottles, behind it a barman, and in front +the backs of passengers who had come up for refreshments. When +Nekhludoff had risen and sat gradually collecting his thoughts, +he noticed that everybody in the room was inquisitively looking +at something that was passing by the open doors. + +He also looked, and saw a group of people carrying a chair on +which sat a lady whose head was wrapped in a kind of airy fabric. + +Nekhludoff thought he knew the footman who was supporting the +chair in front. And also the man behind, and a doorkeeper with +gold cord on his cap, seemed familiar. A lady's maid with a +fringe and an apron, who was carrying a parcel, a parasol, and +something round in a leather case, was walking behind the chair. +Then came Prince Korchagin, with his thick lips, apoplectic neck, +and a travelling cap on his head; behind him Missy, her cousin +Misha, and an acquaintance of Nekhludoff's--the long-necked +diplomat Osten, with his protruding Adam's apple and his +unvarying merry mood and expression. He was saying something very +emphatically, though jokingly, to the smiling Missy. The +Korchagins were moving from their estate near the city to the +estate of the Princess's sister on the Nijni railway. The +procession--the men carrying the chair, the maid, and the +doctor--vanished into the ladies' waiting-room, evoking a feeling +of curiosity and respect in the onlookers. But the old Prince +remained and sat down at the table, called a waiter, and ordered +food and drink. Missy and Osten also remained in the +refreshment-room and were about to sit down, when they saw an +acquaintance in the doorway, and went up to her. It was Nathalie +Rogozhinsky. Nathalie came into the refreshment-room accompanied +by Agraphena Petrovna, and both looked round the room. Nathalie +noticed at one and the same moment both her brother and Missy. +She first went up to Missy, only nodding to her brother; but, +having kissed her, at once turned to him. + +"At last I have found you," she said. Nekhludoff rose to greet +Missy, Misha, and Osten, and to say a few words to them. Missy +told him about their house in the country having been burnt down, +which necessitated their moving to her aunt's. Osten began +relating a funny story about a fire. Nekhludoff paid no +attention, and turned to his sister. + +"How glad I am that you have come." + +"I have been here a long time," she said. "Agraphena Petrovna is +with me." And she pointed to Agraphena Petrovna, who, in a +waterproof and with a bonnet on her head, stood some way off, and +bowed to him with kindly dignity and some confusion, not wishing +to intrude. + +"We looked for you everywhere." + +"And I had fallen asleep here. How glad I am that you have come," +repeated Nekhludoff. "I had begun to write to you." + +"Really?" she said, looking frightened. "What about?" + +Missy and the gentleman, noticing that an intimate conversation +was about to commence between the brother and sister, went away. +Nekhludoff and his sister sat down by the window on a +velvet-covered sofa, on which lay a plaid, a box, and a few other +things. + +"Yesterday, after I left you, I felt inclined to return and +express my regret, but I did not know how he would take it," said +Nekhludoff. "I spoke hastily to your husband, and this tormented +me." + +"I knew," said his sister, "that you did not mean to. Oh, you +know!" and the tears came to her eyes, and she touched his hand. +The sentence was not clear, but he understood it perfectly, and +was touched by what it expressed. Her words meant that, besides +the love for her husband which held her in its sway, she prized +and considered important the love she had for him, her brother, +and that every misunderstanding between them caused her deep +suffering. + +"Thank you, thank you. Oh! what I have seen to-day!" he said, +suddenly recalling the second of the dead convicts. "Two +prisoners have been done to death." + +"Done to death? How?" + +"Yes, done to death. They led them in this heat, and two died of +sunstroke." + +"Impossible! What, to-day? just now?" + +"Yes, just now. I have seen their bodies." + +"But why done to death? Who killed them?" asked Nathalie. + +"They who forced them to go killed them," said Nekhludoff, with +irritation, feeling that she looked at this, too, with her +husband's eyes. + +"Oh, Lord!" said Agraphena Petrovna, who had come up to them. + +"Yes, we have not the slightest idea of what is being done to +these unfortunate beings. But it ought to be known," added +Nekhludoff, and looked at old Korchagin, who sat with a napkin +tied round him and a bottle before him, and who looked round at +Nekhludoff. + +"Nekhludoff," he called out, "won't you join me and take some +refreshment? It is excellent before a journey." + +Nekhludoff refused, and turned away. + +"But what are you going to do?" Nathalie continued. + +"What I can. I don't know, but I feel I must do something. And I +shall do what I am able to." + +"Yes, I understand. And how about them?" she continued, with a +smile and a look towards Korchagin. "Is it possible that it is +all over?" + +"Completely, and I think without any regret on either side." + +"It is a pity. I am sorry. I am fond of her. However, it's all +right. But why do you wish to bind yourself?" she added shyly. +"Why are you going?" + +"I go because I must," answered Nekhludoff, seriously and dryly, +as if wishing to stop this conversation. But he felt ashamed of +his coldness towards his sister at once. "Why not tell her all I +am thinking?" he thought, "and let Agraphena Petrovna also hear +it," he thought, with a look at the old servant, whose presence +made the wish to repeat his decision to his sister even stronger. + +"You mean my intention to marry Katusha? Well, you see, I made up +my mind to do it, but she refuses definitely and firmly," he +said, and his voice shook, as it always did when he spoke of it. +"She does not wish to accept my sacrifice, but is herself +sacrificing what in her position means much, and I cannot accept +this sacrifice, if it is only a momentary impulse. And so I am +going with her, and shall be where she is, and shall try to +lighten her fate as much as I can." + +Nathalie said nothing. Agraphena Petrovna looked at her with a +questioning look, and shook her head. At this moment the former +procession issued from the ladies' room. The same handsome +footman (Philip). and the doorkeeper were carrying the Princess +Korchagin. She stopped the men who were carrying her, and +motioned to Nekhludoff to approach, and, with a pitiful, +languishing air, she extended her white, ringed hand, expecting +the firm pressure of his hand with a sense of horror. + +"Epouvantable!" she said, meaning the heat. "I cannot stand it! +Ce climat me tue!" And, after a short talk about the horrors of +the Russian climate, she gave the men a sign to go on. + +"Be sure and come," she added, turning her long face towards +Nekhludoff as she was borne away. + +The procession with the Princess turned to the right towards the +first-class carriages. Nekhludoff, with the porter who was +carrying his things, and Taras with his bag, turned to the left. + +"This is my companion," said Nekhludoff to his sister, pointing +to Taras, whose story he had told her before. + +"Surely not third class?" said Nathalie, when Nekhludoff stopped +in front of a third-class carriage, and Taras and the porter with +the things went in. + +"Yes; it is more convenient for me to be with Taras," he said. +"One thing more," he added; "up to now I have not given the +Kousminski land to the peasants; so that, in case of my death, +your children will inherit it." + +"Dmitri, don't!" said Nathalie. + +"If I do give it away, all I can say is that the rest will be +theirs, as it is not likely I shall marry; and if I do marry I +shall have no children, so that--" + +"Dmitri, don't talk like that!" said Nathalie. And yet Nekhludoff +noticed that she was glad to hear him say it. + +Higher up, by the side of a first-class carriage, there stood a +group of people still looking at the carriage into which the +Princess Korchagin had been carried. Most of the passengers were +already seated. Some of the late comers hurriedly clattered along +the boards of the platform, the guard was closing the doors and +asking the passengers to get in and those who were seeing them +off to come out. + +Nekhludoff entered the hot, smelling carriage, but at once +stepped out again on to the small platform at the back of the +carriage. Nathalie stood opposite the carriage, with her +fashionable bonnet and cape, by the side of Agraphena Petrovna, +and was evidently trying to find something to say. + +She could not even say ecrivez, because they had long ago laughed +at this word, habitually spoken by those about to part. The short +conversation about money matters had in a moment destroyed the +tender brotherly and sisterly feelings that had taken hold of +them. They felt estranged, so that Nathalie was glad when the +train moved; and she could only say, nodding her head with a sad +and tender look, "Goodbye, good-bye, Dmitri." But as soon as the +carriage had passed her she thought of how she should repeat her +conversation with her brother to her husband, and her face became +serious and troubled. + +Nekhludoff, too, though he had nothing but the kindest feelings +for his sister, and had hidden nothing from her, now felt +depressed and uncomfortable with her, and was glad to part. He +felt that the Nathalie who was once so near to him no longer +existed, and in her place was only a slave of that hairy, +unpleasant husband, who was so foreign to him. He saw it clearly +when her face lit up with peculiar animation as he spoke of what +would peculiarly interest her husband, i.e., the giving up of the +land to the peasants and the inheritance. + +And this made him sad. + + + +CHAPTER XL. + +THE FUNDAMENTAL LAW OF HUMAN LIFE. + +The heat in the large third-class carriage, which had been +standing in the burning sun all day, was so great that Nekhludoff +did not go in, but stopped on the little platform behind the +carriage which formed a passage to the next one. But there was +not a breath of fresh air here either, and Nekhludoff breathed +freely only when the train had passed the buildings and the +draught blew across the platform. + +"Yes, killed," he repeated to himself, the words he had used to +his sister. And in his imagination in the midst of all other +impressions there arose with wonderful clearness the beautiful +face of the second dead convict, with the smile of the lips, the +severe expression of the brows, and the small, firm ear below the +shaved bluish skull. + +And what seemed terrible was that he had been murdered, and no +one knew who had murdered him. Yet he had been murdered. He was +led out like all the rest of the prisoners by Maslennikoff's +orders. Maslennikoff had probably given the order in the usual +manner, had signed with his stupid flourish the paper with the +printed heading, and most certainly would not consider himself +guilty. Still less would the careful doctor who examined the +convicts consider himself guilty. He had performed his duty +accurately, and had separated the weak. How could he have +foreseen this terrible heat, or the fact that they would start so +late in the day and in such crowds? The prison inspector? But the +inspector had only carried into execution the order that on a +given day a certain number of exiles and convicts--men and +women--had to be sent off. The convoy officer could not be guilty +either, for his business was to receive a certain number of +persons in a certain place, and to deliver up the same number. +He conducted them in the usual manner, and could not foresee that +two such strong men as those Nekhludoff saw would not be able to +stand it and would die. No one is guilty, and yet the men have +been murdered by these people who are not guilty of their murder. + +"All this comes," Nekhludoff thought, "from the fact that all +these people, governors, inspectors, police officers, and men, +consider that there are circumstances in which human relations +are not necessary between human beings. All these men, +Maslennikoff, and the inspector, and the convoy officer, if they +were not _governor, inspector, officer,_ would have considered +twenty times before sending people in such heat in such a +mass--would have stopped twenty times on the way, and, seeing +that a man was growing weak, gasping for breath, would have led +him into the shade, would have given him water and let him rest, +and if an accident had still occurred they would have expressed +pity. But they not only did not do it, but hindered others from +doing it, because they considered not men and their duty towards +them but only the office they themselves filled, and held what +that office demanded of them to be above human relations. That's +what it is," Nekhludoff went on in his thoughts. "If one +acknowledges but for a single hour that anything can be more +important than love for one's fellowmen, even in some one +exceptional case, any crime can be committed without a feeling of +guilt." + +Nekhludoff was so engrossed by his thoughts that he did not +notice how the weather changed. The sun was covered over by a +low-hanging, ragged cloud. A compact, light grey cloud was +rapidly coming from the west, and was already falling in heavy, +driving rain on the fields and woods far in the distance. +Moisture, coming from the cloud, mixed with the air. Now and then +the cloud was rent by flashes of lightning, and peals of thunder +mingled more and more often with the rattling of the train. The +cloud came nearer and nearer, the rain-drops driven by the wind +began to spot the platform and Nekhludoff's coat; and he stepped +to the other side of the little platform, and, inhaling the +fresh, moist air--filled with the smell of corn and wet earth +that had long been waiting for rain--he stood looking at the +gardens, the woods, the yellow rye fields, the green oatfields, +the dark-green strips of potatoes in bloom, that glided past. +Everything looked as if covered over with varnish--the green +turned greener, the yellow yellower, the black blacker. + +"More! more!" said Nekhludoff, gladdened by the sight of gardens +and fields revived by the beneficent shower. The shower did not +last long. Part of the cloud had come down in rain, part passed +over, and the last fine drops fell straight on to the earth. The +sun reappeared, everything began to glisten, and in the east--not +very high above the horizon--appeared a bright rainbow, with the +violet tint very distinct and broken only at one end. + +"Why, what was I thinking about?" Nekhludoff asked himself when +all these changes in nature were over, and the train ran into a +cutting between two high banks. + +"Oh! I was thinking that all those people (inspector, convoy +men--all those in the service) are for the greater part kind +people--cruel only because they are serving." He recalled +Maslennikoff's indifference when he told him about what was being +done in the prison, the inspector's severity, the cruelty of the +convoy officer when he refused places on the carts to those who +asked for them, and paid no attention to the fact that there was +a woman in travail in the train. All these people were evidently +invulnerable and impregnable to the simplest feelings of +compassion only because they held offices. "As officials they +were impermeable to the feelings of humanity, as this paved +ground is impermeable to the rain." Thus thought Nekhludoff as he +looked at the railway embankment paved with stones of different +colours, down which the water was running in streams instead of +soaking into the earth. "Perhaps it is necessary to pave the +banks with stones, but it is sad to look at the ground, which +might be yielding corn, grass, bushes, or trees in the same way +as the ground visible up there is doing--deprived of vegetation, +and so it is with men," thought Nekhludoff. "Perhaps these +governors, inspectors, policemen, are needed, but it is terrible +to see men deprived of the chief human attribute, that of love +and sympathy for one another. The thing is," he continued, "that +these people consider lawful what is not lawful, and do not +consider the eternal, immutable law, written in the hearts of men +by God, as law. That is why I feel so depressed when I am with +these people. I am simply afraid of them, and really they are +terrible, more terrible than robbers. A robber might, after all, +feel pity, but they can feel no pity, they are inured against +pity as these stones are against vegetation. That is what makes +them terrible. It is said that the Pougatcheffs, the Razins +[leaders of rebellions in Russia: Stonka Razin in the 17th and +Pougatcheff in the 18th century] are terrible. These are a +thousand times more terrible," he continued, in his thoughts. "If +a psychological problem were set to find means of making men of +our time--Christian, humane, simple, kind people--perform the +most horrible crimes without feeling guilty, only one solution +could be devised: to go on doing what is being done. It is only +necessary that these people should he governors, inspectors, +policemen; that they should be fully convinced that there is a +kind of business, called government service, which allows men to +treat other men as things, without human brotherly relations with +them, and also that these people should be so linked together by +this government service that the responsibility for the results +of their actions should not fall on any one of them separately. +Without these conditions, the terrible acts I witnessed to-day +would be impossible in our times. It all lies in the fact that +men think there are circumstances in which one may deal with +human beings without love; and there are no such circumstances. +One may deal with things without love. One may cut down trees, +make bricks, hammer iron without love; but you cannot deal with +men without it, just as one cannot deal with bees without being +careful. If you deal carelessly with bees you will injure them, +and will yourself be injured. And so with men. It cannot be +otherwise, because natural love is the fundamental law of human +life. It is true that a man cannot force another to love him, as +he can force him to work for him; but it does not follow that a +man may deal with men without love, especially to demand anything +from them. If you feel no love, sit still," Nekhludoff thought; +"occupy yourself with things, with yourself, with anything you +like, only not with men. You can only eat without injuring +yourself when you feel inclined to eat, so you can only deal with +men usefully when you love. Only let yourself deal with a man +without love, as I did yesterday with my brother-in-law, and +there are no limits to the suffering you will bring on yourself, +as all my life proves. Yes, yes, it is so," thought Nekhludoff; +"it is good; yes, it is good," he repeated, enjoying the +freshness after the torturing heat, and conscious of having +attained to the fullest clearness on a question that had long +occupied him. + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +TARAS'S STORY. + +The carriage in which Nekhludoff had taken his place was half +filled with people. There were in it servants, working men, +factory hands, butchers, Jews, shopmen, workmen's wives, a +soldier, two ladies, a young one and an old one with bracelets on +her arm, and a severe-looking gentleman with a cockade on his +black cap. All these people were sitting quietly; the bustle of +taking their places was long over; some sat cracking and eating +sunflower seeds, some smoking, some talking. + +Taras sat, looking very happy, opposite the door, keeping a place +for Nekhludoff, and carrying on an animated conversation with a +man in a cloth coat who sat opposite to him, and who was, as +Nekhludoff afterwards found out, a gardener going to a new +situation. Before reaching the place where Taras sat Nekhludoff +stopped between the seats near a reverend-looking old man with a +white beard and nankeen coat, who was talking with a young woman +in peasant dress. A little girl of about seven, dressed in a new +peasant costume, sat, her little legs dangling above the floor, +by the side of the woman, and kept cracking seeds. + +The old man turned round, and, seeing Nekhludoff, he moved the +lappets of his coat off the varnished seat next to him, and said, +in a friendly manner: + +"Please, here's a seat." + +Nekhludoff thanked him, and took the seat. As soon as he was +seated the woman continued the interrupted conversation. + +She was returning to her village, and related how her husband, +whom she had been visiting, had received her in town. + +"I was there during the carnival, and now, by the Lord's help, +I've been again," she said. "Then, God willing, at Christmas I'll +go again." + +"That's right," said the old man, with a look at Nekhludoff, +"it's the best way to go and see him, else a young man can easily +go to the bad, living in a town." + +"Oh, no, sir, mine is not such a man. No nonsense of any kind +about him; his life is as good as a young maiden's. The money he +earns he sends home all to a copeck. And, as to our girl here, he +was so glad to see her, there are no words for it," said the +woman, and smiled. + +The little girl, who sat cracking her seeds and spitting out the +shells, listened to her mother's words, and, as if to confirm +them, looked up with calm, intelligent eyes into Nekhludoff's and +the old man's faces. + +"Well, if he's good, that's better still," said the old man. +"And none of that sort of thing?" he added, with a look at a +couple, evidently factory hands, who sat at the other side of the +carriage. The husband, with his head thrown back, was pouring +vodka down his throat out of a bottle, and the wife sat holding a +bag, out of which they had taken the bottle, and watched him +intently. + +"No, mine neither drinks nor smokes," said the woman who was +conversing with the old man, glad of the opportunity of praising +her husband once more. "No, sir, the earth does not hold many +such." And, turning to Nekhludoff, she added, "That's the sort +of man he is." + +"What could be better," said the old man, looking at the factory +worker, who had had his drink and had passed the bottle to his +wife. The wife laughed, shook her head, and also raised the +bottle to her lips. + +Noticing Nekhludoff's and the old man's look directed towards +them, the factory worker addressed the former. + +"What is it, sir? That we are drinking? Ah, no one sees how we +work, but every one sees how we drink. I have earned it, and I am +drinking and treating my wife, and no one else." + +"Yes, yes," said Nekhludoff, not knowing what to say. + +"True, sir. My wife is a steady woman. I am satisfied with my +wife, because she can feel for me. Is it right what I'm saying, +Mavra?" + +"There you are, take it, I don't want any more," said the wife, +returning the bottle to him. "And what are you jawing for like +that?" she added. + +"There now! She's good--that good; and suddenly she'll begin +squeaking like a wheel that's not greased. Mavra, is it right +what I'm saying?" + +Mavra laughed and moved her hand with a tipsy gesture. + +"Oh, my, he's at it again." + +"There now, she's that good--that good; but let her get her tail +over the reins, and you can't think what she'll be up to. . . . +Is it right what I'm saying? You must excuse me, sir, I've had a +drop! What's to be done?" said the factory worker, and, preparing +to go to sleep, put his head in his wife's lap. + +Nekhludoff sat a while with the old man, who told him all about +himself. The old man was a stove builder, who had been working +for 53 years, and had built so many stoves that he had lost +count, and now he wanted to rest, but had no time. He had been to +town and found employment for the young ones, and was now going +to the country to see the people at home. After hearing the old +man's story, Nekhludoff went to the place that Taras was keeping +for him. + +"It's all right, sir; sit down; we'll put the bag here," said the +gardener, who sat opposite Taras, in a friendly tone, looking up +into Nekhludoff's face. + +"Rather a tight fit, but no matter since we are friends," said +Taras, smiling, and lifting the bag, which weighed more than five +stone, as if it were a feather, he carried it across to the +window. + +"Plenty of room; besides, we might stand up a bit; and even under +the seat it's as comfortable as you could wish. What's the good +of humbugging?" he said, beaming with friendliness and kindness. + +Taras spoke of himself as being unable to utter a word when quite +sober; but drink, he said, helped him to find the right words, +and then he could express everything. And in reality, when he was +sober Taras kept silent; but when he had been drinking, which +happened rarely and only on special occasions, he became very +pleasantly talkative. Then he spoke a great deal, spoke well and +very simply and truthfully, and especially with great kindliness, +which shone in his gentle, blue eyes and in the friendly smile +that never left his lips. He was in such a state to-day. +Nekhludoff's approach interrupted the conversation; but when he +had put the bag in its place, Taras sat down again, and with his +strong hands folded in his lap, and looking straight into the +gardener's face, continued his story. He was telling his new +acquaintance about his wife and giving every detail: what she was +being sent to Siberia for, and why he was now following her. +Nekhludoff had never heard a detailed account of this affair, and +so he listened with interest. When he came up, the story had +reached the point when the attempt to poison was already an +accomplished fact, and the family had discovered that it was +Theodosia's doing. + +"It's about my troubles that I'm talking," said Taras, addressing +Nekhludoff with cordial friendliness. "I have chanced to come +across such a hearty man, and we've got into conversation, and +I'm telling him all." + +"I see," said Nekhludoff. + +"Well, then in this way, my friend, the business became known. +Mother, she takes that cake. 'I'm going,' says she, 'to the +police officer.' My father is a just old man. 'Wait, wife,' says +he, 'the little woman is a mere child, and did not herself know +what she was doing. We must have pity. She may come to her +senses.' But, dear me, mother would not hear of it. 'While we +keep her here,' she says, 'she may destroy us all like +cockroaches.' Well, friend, so she goes off for the police +officer. He bounces in upon us at once. Calls for witnesses." + +"Well, and you?" asked the gardener. + +"Well, I, you see, friend, roll about with the pain in my +stomach, and vomit. All my inside is turned inside out; I can't +even speak. Well, so father he goes and harnesses the mare, and +puts Theodosia into the cart, and is off to the police-station, +and then to the magistrate's. And she, you know, just as she had +done from the first, so also there, confesses all to the +magistrate--where she got the arsenic, and how she kneaded the +cake. 'Why did you do it?' says he. 'Why,' says she, 'because +he's hateful to me. I prefer Siberia to a life with him.' That's +me," and Taras smiled. + +"Well, so she confessed all. Then, naturally--the prison, and +father returns alone. And harvest time just coming, and mother +the only woman at home, and she no longer strong. So we think +what we are to do. Could we not bail her out? So father went to +see an official. No go. Then another. I think he went to five of +them, and we thought of giving it up. Then we happened to come +across a clerk--such an artful one as you don't often find. 'You +give me five roubles, and I'll get her out,' says he. He agreed +to do it for three. Well, and what do you think, friend? I went +and pawned the linen she herself had woven, and gave him the +money. As soon as he had written that paper," drawled out Taras, +just as if he were speaking of a shot being fired, "we succeeded +at once. I went to fetch her myself. Well, friend, so I got to +town, put up the mare, took the paper, and went to the prison. +'What do you want?' 'This is what I want,' say I, 'you've got my +wife here in prison.' 'And have you got a paper?' I gave him the +paper. He gave it a look. 'Wait,' says he. So I sat down on a +bench. It was already past noon by the sun. An official comes +out. 'You are Vargoushoff?' 'I am.' 'Well, you may take her.' The +gates opened, and they led her out in her own clothes quite all +right. 'Well, come along. Have you come on foot?' 'No, I have the +horse here.' So I went and paid the ostler, and harnessed, put in +all the hay that was left, and covered it with sacking for her to +sit on. She got in and wrapped her shawl round her, and off we +drove. She says nothing and I say nothing. Just as we were coming +up to the house she says, 'And how's mother; is she alive?' 'Yes, +she's alive.' 'And father; is he alive? 'Yes, he is.' 'Forgive +me, Taras,' she says, 'for my folly. I did not myself know what I +was doing.' So I say, 'Words won't mend matters. I have forgiven +you long ago,' and I said no more. We got home, and she just fell +at mother's feet. Mother says, 'The Lord will forgive you.' And +father said, 'How d'you do?' and 'What's past is past. Live as +best you can. Now,' says he, 'is not the time for all that; +there's the harvest to be gathered in down at Skorodino,' he +says. 'Down on the manured acre, by the Lord's help, the ground +has borne such rye that the sickle can't tackle it. It's all +interwoven and heavy, and has sunk beneath its weight; that must +be reaped. You and Taras had better go and see to it to-morrow.' +Well, friend, from that moment she took to the work and worked so +that every one wondered. At that time we rented three desiatins, +and by God's help we had a wonderful crop both of oats and rye. I +mow and she binds the sheaves, and sometimes we both of us reap. +I am good at work and not afraid of it, but she's better still at +whatever she takes up. She's a smart woman, young, and full of +life; and as to work, friend, she'd grown that eager that I had +to stop her. We get home, our fingers swollen, our arms aching, +and she, instead of resting, rushes off to the barn to make +binders for the sheaves for next day. Such a change!" + +"Well, and to you? Was she kinder, now?" asked the gardener. + +"That's beyond question. She clings to me as if we were one soul. +Whatever I think she understands. Even mother, angry as she was, +could not help saying: 'It's as if our Theodosia had been +transformed; she's quite a different woman now!' We were once +going to cart the sheaves with two carts. She and I were in the +first, and I say, 'How could you think of doing that, Theodosia?' +and she says, 'How could I think of it? just so, I did not wish +to live with you. I thought I'd rather die than live with you!' I +say, 'And now?' and she says, 'Now you're in my heart!'" Taras +stopped, and smiled joyfully, shook his head as if surprised. +"Hardly had we got the harvest home when I went to soak the hemp, +and when I got home there was a summons, she must go to be tried, +and we had forgotten all about the matter that she was to be +tried for." + +"It can only be the evil one," said the gardener. "Could any man +of himself think of destroying a living soul? We had a fellow +once--" and the gardener was about to commence his tale when the +train began to stop. + +"It seems we are coming to a station," he said. "I'll go and have +a drink." + +The conversation stopped, and Nekhludoff followed the gardener +out of the carriage onto the wet platform of the station. + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + +LE VRAI GRAND MONDE. + +Before Nekhludoff got out he had noticed in the station yard +several elegant equipages, some with three, some with four, +well-fed horses, with tinkling bells on their harness. When he +stepped out on the wet, dark-coloured boards of the platform, he +saw a group of people in front of the first-class carriage, among +whom were conspicuous a stout lady with costly feathers on her +hat, and a waterproof, and a tall, thin-legged young man in a +cycling suit. The young man had by his side an enormous, well-fed +dog, with a valuable collar. Behind them stood footmen, holding +wraps and umbrellas, and a coachman, who had also come to meet +the train. + +On the whole of the group, from the fat lady down to the coachman +who stood holding up his long coat, there lay the stamp of wealth +and quiet self-assurance. A curious and servile crowd rapidly +gathered round this group--the station-master, in his red cap, a +gendarme, a thin young lady in a Russian costume, with beads +round her neck, who made a point of seeing the trains come in all +through the summer, a telegraph clerk, and passengers, men and +women. + +In the young man with the dog Nekhludoff recognised young +Korchagin, a gymnasium student. The fat lady was the Princess's +sister, to whose estate the Korchagins were now moving. The +guard, with his gold cord and shiny top-boots, opened the carriage +door and stood holding it as a sign of deference, while Philip +and a porter with a white apron carefully carried out the +long-faced Princess in her folding chair. The sisters greeted +each other, and French sentences began flying about. Would the +Princess go in a closed or an open carriage? At last the +procession started towards the exit, the lady's maid, with her +curly fringe, parasol and leather case in the rear. + +Nekhludoff not wishing to meet them and to have to take leave +over again, stopped before he got to the door, waiting for the +procession to pass. + +The Princess, her son, Missy, the doctor, and the maid went out +first, the old Prince and his sister-in-law remained behind. +Nekhludoff was too far to catch anything but a few disconnected +French sentences of their conversation One of the sentences +uttered by the Prince, as it often happens, for some +unaccountable reason remained in his memory with all its +intonations and the sound of the voice. + +"_Oh, il est du vrai grand monde, du vrai grand monde_," said the +Prince in his loud, self-assured tone as he went out of the +station with his sister-in-law, accompanied by the respectful +guards and porters. + +At this moment from behind the corner of the station suddenly +appeared a crowd of workmen in bark shoes, wearing sheepskin +coats and carrying bags on their backs. The workmen went up to +the nearest carriage with soft yet determined steps, and were +about to get in, but were at once driven away by a guard. Without +stopping, the workmen passed on, hurrying and jostling one +another, to the next carriage and began getting in, catching +their bags against the corners and door of the carriage, but +another guard caught sight of them from the door of the station, +and shouted at them severely. The workmen, who had already got +in, hurried out again and went on, with the same soft and firm +steps, still further towards Nekhludoff's carriage. A guard was +again going to stop them, but Nekhludoff said there was plenty of +room inside, and that they had better get in. They obeyed and got +in, followed by Nekhludoff. + +The workmen were about to take their seats, when the gentleman +with the cockade and the two ladies, looking at this attempt to +settle in their carriage as a personal insult to themselves, +indignantly protested and wanted to turn them out. The +workmen--there were 20 of them, old men and quite young ones, all +of them wearied, sunburnt, with haggard faces--began at once to +move on through the carriage, catching the seats, the walls, and +the doors with their bags. They evidently felt they had offended +in some way, and seemed ready to go on indefinitely wherever they +were ordered to go. + +"Where are you pushing to, you fiends? Sit down here," shouted +another guard they met. + +"Voila encore des nouvelles," exclaimed the younger of the two +ladies, quite convinced that she would attract Nekhludoff's +notice by her good French. + +The other lady with the bracelets kept sniffing and making faces, +and remarked something about how pleasant it was to sit with +smelly peasants. + +The workmen, who felt the joy and calm experienced by people who +have escaped some kind of danger, threw off their heavy bags with +a movement of their shoulders and stowed them away under the +seats. + +The gardener had left his own seat to talk with Taras, and now +went back, so that there were two unoccupied seats opposite and +one next to Taras. Three of the workmen took these seats, but +when Nekhludoff came up to them, in his gentleman's clothing, +they got so confused that they rose to go away, but Nekhludoff +asked them to stay, and himself sat down on the arm of the seat, +by the passage down the middle of the carriage. + +One of the workmen, a man of about 50, exchanged a surprised and +even frightened look with a young man. That Nekhludoff, instead +of scolding and driving them away, as was natural to a gentleman, +should give up his seat to them, astonished and perplexed them. +They even feared that this might have some evil result for them. + +However, they soon noticed that there was no underlying plot when +they heard Nekhludoff talking quite simply with Taras, and they +grew quiet and told one of the lads to sit down on his bag and +give his seat to Nekhludoff. At first the elderly workman who sat +opposite Nekhludoff shrank and drew back his legs for fear of +touching the gentleman, but after a while he grew quite friendly, +and in talking to him and Taras even slapped Nekhludoff on the +knee when he wanted to draw special attention to what he was +saying. + +He told them all about his position and his work in the peat +bogs, whence he was now returning home. He had been working there +for two and a half months, and was bringing home his wages, which +only came to 10 roubles, since part had been paid beforehand when +he was hired. They worked, as he explained, up to their knees in +water from sunrise to sunset, with two hours' interval for +dinner. + +"Those who are not used to it find it hard, of course," he said; +"but when one's hardened it doesn't matter, if only the food is +right. At first the food was bad. Later the people complained, +and they got good food, and it was easy to work." + +Then he told them how, during 28 years he went out to work, and +sent all his earnings home. First to his father, then to his +eldest brother, and now to his nephew, who was at the head of the +household. On himself he spent only two or three roubles of the +50 or 60 he earned a year, just for luxuries--tobacco and +matches. + +"I'm a sinner, when tired I even drink a little vodka sometimes," +he added, with a guilty smile. + +Then he told them how the women did the work at home, and how the +contractor had treated them to half a pail of vodka before they +started to-day, how one of them had died, and another was +returning home ill. The sick workman he was talking about was in +a corner of the same carriage. He was a young lad, with a pale, +sallow face and bluish lips. He was evidently tormented by +intermittent fever. Nekhludoff went up to him, but the lad looked +up with such a severe and suffering expression that Nekhludoff +did not care to bother him with questions, but advised the elder +man to give him quinine, and wrote down the name of the medicine. +He wished to give him some money, but the old workman said he +would pay for it himself. + +"Well, much as I have travelled, I have never met such a +gentleman before. Instead of punching your head, he actually +gives up his place to you," said the old man to Taras. "It seems +there are all sorts of gentlefolk, too." + +"Yes, this is quite a new and different world," thought +Nekhludoff, looking at these spare, sinewy, limbs, coarse, +home-made garments, and sunburnt, kindly, though weary-looking +faces, and feeling himself surrounded on all sides with new +people and the serious interests, joys, and sufferings of a life +of labour. + +"Here is_ le vrai grand monde_," thought Nekhludoff, remembering +the words of Prince Korchagin and all that idle, luxurious world +to which the Korchagins belonged, with their petty, mean +interests. And he felt the joy of a traveller on discovering a +new, unknown, and beautiful world. + + +END OF BOOK II. + + + + +BOOK III. + + + +CHAPTER I. + +MASLOVA MAKES NEW FRIENDS. + +The gang of prisoners to which Maslova belonged had walked about +three thousand three hundred miles. She and the other prisoners +condemned for criminal offences had travelled by rail and by +steamboats as far as the town of Perm. It was only here that +Nekhludoff succeeded in obtaining a permission for her to +continue the journey with the political prisoners, as Vera +Doukhova, who was among the latter, advised him to do. The +journey up to Perm had been very trying to Maslova both morally +and physically. Physically, because of the overcrowding, the +dirt, and the disgusting vermin, which gave her no peace; +morally, because of the equally disgusting men. The men, like the +vermin, though they changed at each halting-place, were +everywhere alike importunate; they swarmed round her, giving her +no rest. Among the women prisoners and the men prisoners, the +jailers and the convoy soldiers, the habit of a kind of cynical +debauch was so firmly established that unless a female prisoner +was willing to utilise her position as a woman she had to be +constantly on the watch. To be continually in a state of fear and +strife was very trying. And Maslova was specially exposed to +attacks, her appearance being attractive and her past known to +every one. The decided resistance with which she now met the +importunity of all the men seemed offensive to them, and awakened +another feeling, that of ill-will towards her. But her position +was made a little easier by her intimacy with Theodosia, and +Theodosia's husband, who, having heard of the molestations his +wife was subject to, had in Nijni been arrested at his own desire +in order to be able to protect her, and was now travelling with +the gang as a prisoner. Maslova's position became much more +bearable when she was allowed to join the political prisoners, +who were provided with better accomodations, better food, and +were treated less rudely, but besides all this Maslova's +condition was much improved because among the political prisoners +she was no longer molested by the men, and could live without +being reminded of that past which she was so anxious to forget. +But the chief advantage of the change lay in the fact that she +made the acquaintance of several persons who exercised a decided +and most beneficial influence on her character. Maslova was +allowed to stop with the political prisoners at all the +halting-places, but being a strong and healthy woman she was +obliged to march with the criminal convicts. In this way she +walked all the way from Tomsk. Two political prisoners also +marched with the gang, Mary Pavlovna Schetinina, the girl with +the hazel eyes who had attracted Nekhludoff's attention when he +had been to visit Doukhova in prison, and one Simonson, who was +on his way to the Takoutsk district, the dishevelled dark young +fellow with deep-lying eyes, whom Nekhludoff had also noticed +during that visit. Mary Pavlovna was walking because she had +given her place on the cart to one of the criminals, a woman +expecting to be confined, and Simonson because he did not dare to +avail himself of a class privilege. + +These three always started early in the morning before the rest +of the political prisoners, who followed later on in the carts. + +They were ready to start in this way just outside a large town, +where a new convoy officer had taken charge of the gang. + +It was early on a dull September morning. It kept raining and +snowing alternately, and the cold wind blew in sudden gusts. The +whole gang of prisoners, consisting of four hundred men and fifty +women, was already assembled in the court of the halting station. +Some of them were crowding round the chief of the convoy, who was +giving to specially appointed prisoners money for two days' keep +to distribute among the rest, while others were purchasing food +from women who had been let into the courtyard. One could hear +the voices of the prisoners counting their money and making their +purchases, and the shrill voices of the women with the food. + +Simonson, in his rubber jacket and rubber overshoes fastened with +a string over his worsted stockings (he was a vegetarian and +would not wear the skin of slaughtered animals), was also in the +courtyard waiting for the gang to start. He stood by the porch +and jotted down in his notebook a thought that had occurred to +him. This was what he wrote: "If a bacteria watched and examined +a human nail it would pronounce it inorganic matter, and thus we, +examining our globe and watching its crust, pronounce it to be +inorganic. This is incorrect." + +Katusha and Mary Pavlovna, both wearing top-boots and with shawls +tied round their heads, came out of the building into the +courtyard where the women sat sheltered from the wind by the +northern wall of the court, and vied with one another, offering +their goods, hot meat pie, fish, vermicelli, buckwheat porridge, +liver, beef, eggs, milk. One had even a roast pig to offer. + +Having bought some eggs, bread, fish, and some rusks, Maslova was +putting them into her bag, while Mary Pavlovna was paying the +women, when a movement arose among the convicts. All were silent +and took their places. The officer came out and began giving the +last orders before starting. Everything was done in the usual +manner. The prisoners were counted, the chains on their legs +examined, and those who were to march in couples linked together +with manacles. But suddenly the angry, authoritative voice of the +officer shouting something was heard, also the sound of a blow +and the crying of a child. All was silent for a moment and then +came a hollow murmur from the crowd. Maslova and Mary Pavlovna +advanced towards the spot whence the noise proceeded. + + + +CHAPTER II. + +AN INCIDENT OF THE MARCH. + +This is what Mary Pavlovna and Katusha saw when they came up to +the scene whence the noise proceeded. The officer, a sturdy +fellow, with fair moustaches, stood uttering words of foul and +coarse abuse, and rubbing with his left the palm of his right +hand, which he had hurt in hitting a prisoner on the face. In +front of him a thin, tall convict, with half his head shaved and +dressed in a cloak too short for him and trousers much too short, +stood wiping his bleeding face with one hand, and holding a +little shrieking girl wrapped in a shawl with the other. + +"I'll give it you" (foul abuse); "I'll teach you to reason" (more +abuse); "you're to give her to the women!" shouted the officer. +"Now, then, on with them." + +The convict, who was exiled by the Commune, had been carrying his +little daughter all the way from Tomsk, where his wife had died +of typhus, and now the officer ordered him to be manacled. The +exile's explanation that he could not carry the child if he was +manacled irritated the officer, who happened to be in a bad +temper, and he gave the troublesome prisoner a beating. [A fact +described by Lineff in his "Transportation".] Before the injured +convict stood a convoy soldier, and a black-bearded prisoner with +manacles on one hand and a look of gloom on his face, which he +turned now to the officer, now to the prisoner with the little +girl. + +The officer repeated his orders for the soldiers to take away the +girl. The murmur among the prisoners grew louder. + +"All the way from Tomsk they were not put on," came a hoarse +voice from some one in the rear. "It's a child, and not a puppy." + +"What's he to do with the lassie? That's not the law," said some +one else. + +"Who's that?" shouted the officer as if he had been stung, and +rushed into the crowd. + +"I'll teach you the law. Who spoke. You? You?" + +"Everybody says so, because-" said a short, broad-faced prisoner. + +Before he had finished speaking the officer hit him in the face. + +"Mutiny, is it? I'll show you what mutiny means. I'll have you +all shot like dogs, and the authorities will be only too +thankful. Take the girl." + +The crowd was silent. One convoy soldier pulled away the girl, +who was screaming desperately, while another manacled the +prisoner, who now submissively held out his hand. + +"Take her to the women," shouted the officer, arranging his sword +belt. + +The little girl, whose face had grown quite red, was trying to +disengage her arms from under the shawl, and screamed +unceasingly. Mary Pavlovna stepped out from among the crowd and +came up to the officer. + +"Will you allow me to carry the little girl?" she said. + +"Who are you?" asked the officer. + +"A political prisoner." + +Mary Pavlovna's handsome face, with the beautiful prominent eyes +(he had noticed her before when the prisoners were given into his +charge), evidently produced an effect on the officer. He looked +at her in silence as if considering, then said: "I don't care; +carry her if you like. It is easy for you to show pity; if he ran +away who would have to answer?" + +"How could he run away with the child in his arms?" said Mary +Pavlovna. + +"I have no time to talk with you. Take her if you like." + +"Shall I give her?" asked the soldier. + +"Yes, give her." + +"Come to me," said Mary Pavlovna, trying to coax the child to +come to her. + +But the child in the soldier's arms stretched herself towards her +father and continued to scream, and would not go to Mary +Pavlovna. + +"Wait a bit, Mary Pavlovna," said Maslova, getting a rusk out of +her bag; "she will come to me." + +The little girl knew Maslova, and when she saw her face and the +rusk she let her take her. All was quiet. The gates were opened, +and the gang stepped out, the convoy counted the prisoners over +again, the bags were packed and tied on to the carts, the weak +seated on the top. Maslova with the child in her arms took her +place among the women next to Theodosia. Simonson, who had all +the time been watching what was going on, stepped with large, +determined strides up to the officer, who, having given his +orders, was just getting into a trap, and said, "You have behaved +badly." + +"Get to your place; it is no business of yours." + +"It is my business to tell you that you have behaved badly and I +have said it," said Simonson, looking intently into the officer's +face from under his bushy eyebrows. + +"Ready? March!" the officer called out, paying no heed to +Simonson, and, taking hold of the driver's shoulder, he got into +the trap. The gang started and spread out as it stepped on to the +muddy high road with ditches on each side, which passed through a +dense forest. + + + +CHAPTER III. + +MARY PAVLOVNA. + +In spite of the hard conditions in which they were placed, life +among the political prisoners seemed very good to Katusha after +the depraved, luxurious and effeminate life she had led in town +for the last six years, and after two months' imprisonment with +criminal prisoners. The fifteen to twenty miles they did per day, +with one day's rest after two days' marching, strengthened her +physically, and the fellowship with her new companions opened out +to her a life full of interests such as she had never dreamed of. +People so wonderful (as she expressed it) as those whom she was +now going with she had not only never met but could not even have +imagined. + +"There now, and I cried when I was sentenced," she said. "Why, I +must thank God for it all the days of my life. I have learned to +know what I never should have found out else." + +The motives she understood easily and without effort that guided +these people, and, being of the people, fully sympathised with +them. She understood that these persons were for the people and +against the upper classes, and though themselves belonging to the +upper classes had sacrificed their privileges, their liberty and +their lives for the people. This especially made her value and +admire them. She was charmed with all the new companions, but +particularly with Mary Pavlovna, and she was not only charmed +with her, but loved her with a peculiar, respectful and rapturous +love. She was struck by the fact that this beautiful girl, the +daughter of a rich general, who could speak three languages, gave +away all that her rich brother sent her, and lived like the +simplest working girl, and dressed not only simply, but poorly, +paying no heed to her appearance. This trait and a complete +absence of coquetry was particularly surprising and therefore +attractive to Maslova. Maslova could see that Mary Pavlovna knew, +and was even pleased to know, that she was handsome, and yet the +effect her appearance had on men was not at all pleasing to her; +she was even afraid of it, and felt an absolute disgust to all +love affairs. Her men companions knew it, and if they felt +attracted by her never permitted themselves to show it to her, +but treated her as they would a man; but with strangers, who +often molested her, the great physical strength on which she +prided herself stood her in good stead. + +"It happened once," she said to Katusha, "that a man followed me +in the street and would not leave me on any account. At last I +gave him such a shaking that he was frightened and ran away." + +She became a revolutionary, as she said, because she felt a +dislike to the life of the well-to-do from childhood up, and +loved the life of the common people, and she was always being +scolded for spending her time in the servants' hall, in the +kitchen or the stables instead of the drawing-room. + +"And I found it amusing to be with cooks and the coachmen, and +dull with our gentlemen and ladies," she said. "Then when I came +to understand things I saw that our life was altogether wrong; I +had no mother and I did not care for my father, and so when I was +nineteen I left home, and went with a girl friend to work as a +factory hand." + +After she left the factory she lived in the country, then +returned to town and lived in a lodging, where they had a secret +printing press. There she was arrested and sentenced to hard +labour. Mary Pavlovna said nothing about it herself, but Katusha +heard from others that Mary Pavlovna was sentenced because, when +the lodging was searched by the police and one of the +revolutionists fired a shot in the dark, she pleaded guilty. + +As soon as she had learned to know Mary Pavlovna, Katusha noticed +that, whatever the conditions she found herself in, Mary Pavlovna +never thought of herself, but was always anxious to serve, to +help some one, in matters small or great. One of her present +companions, Novodvoroff, said of her that she devoted herself to +philanthropic amusements. And this was true. The interest of her +whole life lay in the search for opportunities of serving others. +This kind of amusement had become the habit, the business of her +life. And she did it all so naturally that those who knew her no +longer valued but simply expected it of her. + +When Maslova first came among them, Mary Pavlovna felt repulsed +and disgusted. Katusha noticed this, but she also noticed that, +having made an effort to overcome these feelings, Mary Pavlovna +became particularly tender and kind to her. The tenderness and +kindness of so uncommon a being touched Maslova so much that she +gave her whole heart, and unconsciously accepting her views, +could not help imitating her in everything. + +This devoted love of Katusha touched Mary Pavlovna in her turn, +and she learned to love Katusha. + +These women were also united by the repulsion they both felt to +sexual love. The one loathed that kind of love, having +experienced all its horrors, the other, never having experienced +it, looked on it as something incomprehensible and at the same +time as something repugnant and offensive to human dignity. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +SIMONSON. + +Mary Pavlovna's influence was one that Maslova submitted to +because she loved Mary Pavlovna. Simonson influenced her because +he loved her. + +Everybody lives and acts partly according to his own, partly +according to other people's, ideas. This is what constitutes one +of the great differences among men. To some, thinking is a kind +of mental game; they treat their reason as if it were a fly-wheel +without a connecting strap, and are guided in their actions by +other people's ideas, by custom or laws; while others look upon +their own ideas as the chief motive power of all their actions, +and always listen to the dictates of their own reason and submit +to it, accepting other people's opinions only on rare occasions +and after weighing them critically. Simonson was a man of the +latter sort; he settled and verified everything according to his +own reason and acted on the decisions he arrived at. When a +schoolboy he made up his mind that his father's income, made as a +paymaster in government office was dishonestly gained, and he +told his father that it ought to be given to the people. When his +father, instead of listening to him, gave him a scolding, he left +his father's house and would not make use of his father's means. +Having come to the conclusion that all the existing misery was a +result of the people's ignorance, he joined the socialists, who +carried on propaganda among the people, as soon as he left the +university and got a place as a village schoolmaster. He taught +and explained to his pupils and to the peasants what he +considered to be just, and openly blamed what he thought unjust. +He was arrested and tried. During his trial he determined to tell +his judges that his was a just cause, for which he ought not to +be tried or punished. When the judges paid no heed to his words, +but went on with the trial, he decided not to answer them and +kept resolutely silent when they questioned him. He was exiled to +the Government of Archangel. There he formulated a religious +teaching which was founded on the theory that everything in the +world was alive, that nothing is lifeless, and that all the +objects we consider to be without life or inorganic are only +parts of an enormous organic body which we cannot compass. A +man's task is to sustain the life of that huge organism and all +its animate parts. Therefore he was against war, capital +punishment and every kind of killing, not only of human beings, +but also of animals. Concerning marriage, too, he had a peculiar +idea of his own; he thought that increase was a lower function of +man, the highest function being to serve the already existing +lives. He found a confirmation of his theory in the fact that +there were phacocytes in the blood. Celibates, according to his +opinion, were the same as phacocytes, their function being to +help the weak and the sickly particles of the organism. From the +moment he came to this conclusion he began to consider himself as +well as Mary Pavlovna as phacocytes, and to live accordingly, +though as a youth he had been addicted to vice. His love for +Katusha did not infringe this conception, because he loved her +platonically, and such love he considered could not hinder his +activity as a phacocytes, but acted, on the contrary, as an +inspiration. + +Not only moral, but also most practical questions he decided in +his own way. He applied a theory of his own to all practical +business, had rules relating to the number of hours for rest and +for work, to the kind of food to eat, the way to dress, to heat +and light up the rooms. With all this Simonson was very shy and +modest; and yet when he had once made up his mind nothing could +make him waver. And this man had a decided influence on Maslova +through his love for her. With a woman's instinct Maslova very +soon found out that he loved her. And the fact that she could +awaken love in a man of that kind raised her in her own +estimation. It was Nekhludoff's magnanimity and what had been in +the past that made him offer to marry her, but Simonson loved her +such as she was now, loved her simply because of the love he bore +her. And she felt that Simonson considered her to be an +exceptional woman, having peculiarly high moral qualities. She +did not quite know what the qualities he attributed to her were, +but in order to be on the safe side and that he should not be +disappointed in her, she tried with all her might to awaken in +herself all the highest qualities she could conceive, and she +tried to be as good as possible. This had begun while they were +still in prison, when on a common visiting day she had noticed +his kindly dark blue eyes gazing fixedly at her from under his +projecting brow. Even then she had noticed that this was a +peculiar man, and that he was looking at her in a peculiar +manner, and had also noticed the striking combination of +sternness--the unruly hair and the frowning forehead gave him +this appearance--with the child-like kindness and innocence of +his look. She saw him again in Tomsk, where she joined the +political prisoners. Though they had not uttered a word, their +looks told plainly that they had understood one another. Even +after that they had had no serious conversation with each other, +but Maslova felt that when he spoke in her presence his words +were addressed to her, and that he spoke for her sake, trying to +express himself as plainly as he could; but it was when he +started walking with the criminal prisoners that they grew +specially near to one another. + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE POLITICAL PRISONERS. + +Until they left Perm Nekhludoff only twice managed to see +Katusha, once in Nijni, before the prisoners were embarked on a +barge surrounded with a wire netting, and again in Perm in the +prison office. At both these interviews he found her reserved and +unkind. She answered his questions as to whether she was in want +of anything, and whether she was comfortable, evasively and +bashfully, and, as he thought, with the same feeling of hostile +reproach which she had shown several times before. Her depressed +state of mind, which was only the result of the molestations from +the men that she was undergoing at the time, tormented +Nekhludoff. He feared lest, influenced by the hard and degrading +circumstances in which she was placed on the journey, she should +again get into that state of despair and discord with her own +self which formerly made her irritable with him, and which had +caused her to drink and smoke excessively to gain oblivion. But +he was unable to help her in any way during this part of the +journey, as it was impossible for him to be with her. It was only +when she joined the political prisoners that he saw how unfounded +his fears were, and at each interview he noticed that inner +change he so strongly desired to see in her becoming more and +more marked. The first time they met in Tomsk she was again just +as she had been when leaving Moscow. She did not frown or become +confused when she saw him, but met him joyfully and simply, +thanking him for what he had done for her, especially for +bringing her among the people with whom she now was. + +After two months' marching with the gang, the change that had +taken place within her became noticeable in her appearance. She +grew sunburned and thinner, and seemed older; wrinkles appeared +on her temples and round her mouth. She had no ringlets on her +forehead now, and her hair was covered with the kerchief; in the +way it was arranged, as well as in her dress and her manners, +there was no trace of coquetry left. And this change, which had +taken place and was still progressing in her, made Nekhludoff +very happy. + +He felt for her something he had never experienced before. This +feeling had nothing in common with his first poetic love for her, +and even less with the sensual love that had followed, nor even +with the satisfaction of a duty fulfilled, not unmixed with +self-admiration, with which he decided to marry her after the +trial. The present feeling was simply one of pity and tenderness. +He had felt it when he met her in prison for the first time, and +then again when, after conquering his repugnance, he forgave her +the imagined intrigue with the medical assistant in the hospital +(the injustice done her had since been discovered); it was the +same feeling he now had, only with this difference, that formerly +it was momentary, and that now it had become permanent. Whatever +he was doing, whatever he was thinking now, a feeling of pity and +tenderness dwelt with him, and not only pity and tenderness for +her, but for everybody. This feeling seemed to have opened the +floodgates of love, which had found no outlet in Nekhludoff's +soul, and the love now flowed out to every one he met. + +During this journey Nekhludoff's feelings were so stimulated that +he could not help being attentive and considerate to everybody, +from the coachman and the convoy soldiers to the prison +inspectors and governors whom he had to deal with. Now that +Maslova was among the political prisoners, Nekhludoff could not +help becoming acquainted with many of them, first in +Ekaterinburg, where they had a good deal of freedom and were kept +altogether in a large cell, and then on the road when Maslova was +marching with three of the men and four of the women. Coming in +contact with political exiles in this way made Nekhludoff +completely change his mind concerning them. + +From the very beginning of the revolutionary movement in Russia, +but especially since that first of March, when Alexander II was +murdered, Nekhludoff regarded the revolutionists with dislike and +contempt. He was repulsed by the cruelty and secrecy of the +methods they employed in their struggles against the government, +especially the cruel murders they committed, and their arrogance +also disgusted him. But having learned more intimately to know +them and all they had suffered at the hands of the government, he +saw that they could not be other than they were. + +Terrible and endless as were the torments which were inflicted on +the criminals, there was at least some semblance of justice shown +them before and after they were sentenced, but in the case of the +political prisoners there was not even that semblance, as +Nekhludoff saw in the case of Sholostova and that of many and +many of his new acquaintances. These people were dealt with like +fish caught with a net; everything that gets into the nets is +pulled ashore, and then the big fish which are required are +sorted out and the little ones are left to perish unheeded on the +shore. Having captured hundreds that were evidently guiltless, +and that could not be dangerous to the government, they left them +imprisoned for years, where they became consumptive, went out of +their minds or committed suicide, and kept them only because they +had no inducement to set them free, while they might be of use to +elucidate some question at a judicial inquiry, safe in prison. +The fate of these persons, often innocent even from the +government point of view, depended on the whim, the humour of, or +the amount of leisure at the disposal of some police officer or +spy, or public prosecutor, or magistrate, or governor, or +minister. Some one of these officials feels dull, or inclined to +distinguish himself, and makes a number of arrests, and imprisons +or sets free, according to his own fancy or that of the higher +authorities. And the higher official, actuated by like motives, +according to whether he is inclined to distinguish himself, or to +what his relations to the minister are, exiles men to the other +side of the world or keeps them in solitary confinement, condemns +them to Siberia, to hard labour, to death, or sets them free at +the request of some lady. + +They were dealt with as in war, and they naturally employed the +means that were used against them. And as the military men live +in an atmosphere of public opinion that not only conceals from +them the guilt of their actions, but sets these actions up as +feats of heroism, so these political offenders were also +constantly surrounded by an atmosphere of public opinion which +made the cruel actions they committed, in the face of danger and +at the risk of liberty and life, and all that is dear to men, +seem not wicked but glorious actions. Nekhludoff found in this +the explanation of the surprising phenomenon that men, with the +mildest characters, who seemed incapable of witnessing the +sufferings of any living creature, much less of inflicting pain, +quietly prepared to murder men, nearly all of them considering +murder lawful and just on certain occasions as a means for +self-defence, for the attainment of higher aims or for the +general welfare. + +The importance they attribute to their cause, and consequently to +themselves, flowed naturally from the importance the government +attached to their actions, and the cruelty of the punishments it +inflicted on them. When Nekhludoff came to know them better he +became convinced that they were not the right-down villains that +some imagined them to be, nor the complete heroes that others +thought them, but ordinary people, just the same as others, among +whom there were some good and some bad, and some mediocre, as +there are everywhere. + +There were some among them who had turned revolutionists because +they honestly considered it their duty to fight the existing +evils, but there were also those who chose this work for selfish, +ambitious motives; the majority, however, was attracted to the +revolutionary idea by the desire for danger, for risks, the +enjoyment of playing with one's life, which, as Nekhludoff knew +from his military experiences, is quite common to the most +ordinary people while they are young and full of energy. But +wherein they differed from ordinary people was that their moral +standard was a higher one than that of ordinary men. They +considered not only self-control, hard living, truthfulness, but +also the readiness to sacrifice everything, even life, for the +common welfare as their duty. Therefore the best among them stood +on a moral level that is not often reached, while the worst were +far below the ordinary level, many of them being untruthful, +hypocritical and at the same time self-satisfied and proud. So +that Nekhludoff learned not only to respect but to love some of +his new acquaintances, while he remained more than indifferent to +others. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +KRYLTZOFF'S STORY. + +Nekhludoff grew especially fond of Kryltzoff, a consumptive young +man condemned to hard labour, who was going with the same gang as +Katusha. Nekhludoff had made his acquaintance already in +Ekaterinburg, and talked with him several times on the road after +that. Once, in summer, Nekhludoff spent nearly the whole of a day +with him at a halting station, and Kryltzoff, having once started +talking, told him his story and how he had become a +revolutionist. Up to the time of his imprisonment his story was +soon told. He lost his father, a rich landed proprietor in the +south of Russia, when still a child. He was the only son, and his +mother brought him up. He learned easily in the university, as +well as the gymnasium, and was first in the mathematical faculty +in his year. He was offered a choice of remaining in the +university or going abroad. He hesitated. He loved a girl and was +thinking of marriage, and taking part in the rural +administration. He did not like giving up either offer, and could +not make up his mind. At this time his fellow-students at the +university asked him for money for a common cause. He did not +know that this common cause was revolutionary, which he was not +interested in at that time, but gave the money from a sense of +comradeship and vanity, so that it should not be said that he was +afraid. Those who received the money were caught, a note was +found which proved that the money had been given by Kryltzoff, he +was arrested, and first kept at the police station, then +imprisoned. + +"The prison where I was put," Kryltzoff went on to relate (he was +sitting on the high shelf bedstead, his elbows on his knees, with +sunken chest, the beautiful, intelligent eyes with which he +looked at Nekhludoff glistening feverishly)--"they were not +specially strict in that prison. We managed to converse, not only +by tapping the wall, but could walk about the corridors, share +our provisions and our tobacco, and in the evenings we even sang +in chorus. I had a fine voice--yes, if it had not been for mother +it would have been all right, even pleasant and interesting. Here +I made the acquaintance of the famous Petroff--he afterwards +killed himself with a piece of glass at the fortress--and also +of others. But I was not yet a revolutionary. I also became +acquainted with my neighbours in the cells next to mine. They +were both caught with Polish proclamations and arrested in the +same cause, and were tried for an attempt to escape from the +convoy when they were being taken to the railway station. One was +a Pole, Lozinsky; the other a Jew, Rozovsky. Yes. Well, this +Rozovsky was quite a boy. He said he was seventeen, but he looked +fifteen--thin, small, active, with black, sparkling eyes, and, +like most Jews, very musical. His voice was still breaking, and +yet he sang beautifully. Yes. I saw them both taken to be tried. +They were taken in the morning. They returned in the evening, +and said they were condemned to death. No one had expected it. +Their case was so unimportant; they only tried to get away from +the convoy, and had not even wounded any one. And then it was so +unnatural to execute such a child as Rozovsky. And we in prison +all came to the conclusion that it was only done to frighten +them, and would not be confirmed. At first we were excited, and +then we comforted ourselves, and life went on as before. Yes. +Well, one evening, a watchman comes to my door and mysteriously +announces to me that carpenters had arrived, and were putting up +the gallows. At first I did not understand. What's that? What +gallows? But the watchman was so excited that I saw at once it +was for our two. I wished to tap and communicate with my +comrades, but was afraid those two would hear. The comrades were +also silent. Evidently everybody knew. In the corridors and in +the cells everything was as still as death all that evening. They +did not tap the wall nor sing. At ten the watchman came again and +announced that a hangman had arrived from Moscow. He said it and +went away. I began calling him back. Suddenly I hear Rozovsky +shouting to me across the corridor: 'What's the matter? Why do +you call him?' I answered something about asking him to get me +some tobacco, but he seemed to guess, and asked me: 'Why did we +not sing to-night, why did we not tap the walls?' I do not +remember what I said, but I went away so as not to speak to him. +Yes. It was a terrible night. I listened to every sound all +night. Suddenly, towards morning, I hear doors opening and +somebody walking--many persons. I went up to my window. There +was a lamp burning in the corridor. The first to pass was the +inspector. He was stout, and seemed a resolute, self-satisfied +man, but he looked ghastly pale, downcast, and seemed frightened; +then his assistant, frowning but resolute; behind them the +watchman. They passed my door and stopped at the next, and I hear +the assistant calling out in a strange voice: 'Lozinsky, get up +and put on clean linen.' Yes. Then I hear the creaking of the +door; they entered into his cell. Then I hear Lozinsky's steps +going to the opposite side of the corridor. I could only see the +inspector. He stood quite pale, and buttoned and unbuttoned his +coat, shrugging his shoulders. Yes. Then, as if frightened of +something, he moved out of the way. It was Lozinsky, who passed +him and came up to my door. A handsome young fellow he was, you +know, of that nice Polish type: broad shouldered, his head +covered with fine, fair, curly hair as with a cap, and with +beautiful blue eyes. So blooming, so fresh, so healthy. He +stopped in front of my window, so that I could see the whole of +his face. A dreadful, gaunt, livid face. 'Kryltzoff, have you any +cigarettes?' I wished to pass him some, but the assistant +hurriedly pulled out his cigarette case and passed it to him. He +took out one, the assistant struck a match, and he lit the +cigarette and began to smoke and seemed to be thinking. Then, as +if he had remembered something, he began to speak. 'It is cruel +and unjust. I have committed no crime. I--' I saw something +quiver in his white young throat, from which I could not take my +eyes, and he stopped. Yes. At that moment I hear Rozovsky +shouting in his fine, Jewish voice. Lozinsky threw away the +cigarette and stepped from the door. And Rozovsky appeared at the +window. His childish face, with the limpid black eyes, was red +and moist. He also had clean linen on, the trousers were too +wide, and he kept pulling them up and trembled all over. He +approached his pitiful face to my window. 'Kryltzoff, it's true +that the doctor has prescribed cough mixture for me, is it not? I +am not well. I'll take some more of the mixture.' No one +answered, and he looked inquiringly, now at me, now at the +inspector. What he meant to say I never made out. Yes. Suddenly +the assistant again put on a stern expression, and called out in +a kind of squeaking tone: 'Now, then, no nonsense. Let us go.' +Rozovsky seemed incapable of understanding what awaited him, and +hurried, almost ran, in front of him all along the corridor. But +then he drew back, and I could hear his shrill voice and his +cries, then the trampling of feet, and general hubbub. He was +shrieking and sobbing. The sounds came fainter and fainter, and +at last the door rattled and all was quiet. Yes. And so they +hanged them. Throttled them both with a rope. A watchman, another +one, saw it done, and told me that Lozinsky did not resist, but +Rozovsky struggled for a long time, so that they had to pull him +up on to the scaffold and to force his head into the noose. Yes. +This watchman was a stupid fellow. He said: 'They told me, sir, +that it would be frightful, but it was not at all frightful. +After they were hanged they only shrugged their shoulders twice, +like this.' He showed how the shoulders convulsively rose and +fell. 'Then the hangman pulled a bit so as to tighten the noose, +and it was all up, and they never budged."' And Kryltzoff +repeated the watchman's words, "Not at all frightful," and tried +to smile, but burst into sobs instead. + +For a long time after that he kept silent, breathing heavily, and +repressing the sobs that were choking him. + +"From that time I became a revolutionist. Yes," he said, when he +was quieter and finished his story in a few words. He belonged to +the Narodovoltzy party, and was even at the head of the +disorganising group, whose object was to terrorise the government +so that it should give up its power of its own accord. With this +object he travelled to Petersburg, to Kiev, to Odessa and abroad, +and was everywhere successful. A man in whom he had full +confidence betrayed him. He was arrested, tried, kept in prison +for two years, and condemned to death, but the sentence was +mitigated to one of hard labour for life. + +He went into consumption while in prison, and in the conditions +he was now placed he had scarcely more than a few months longer +to live. This he knew, but did not repent of his action, but said +that if he had another life he would use it in the same way to +destroy the conditions in which such things as he had seen were +possible. + +This man's story and his intimacy with him explained to +Nekhludoff much that he had not previously understood. + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +NEKHLUDOFF SEEKS AN INTERVIEW WITH MASLOVA. + +On the day when the convoy officer had the encounter with the +prisoners at the halting station about the child, Nekhludoff, who +had spent the night at the village inn, woke up late, and was +some time writing letters to post at the next Government town, so +that he left the inn later than usual, and did not catch up with +the gang on the road as he had done previously, but came to the +village where the next halting station was as it was growing +dusk. + +Having dried himself at the inn, which was kept by an elderly +woman who had an extraordinarily fat, white neck, he had his tea +in a clean room decorated with a great number of icons and +pictures and then hurried away to the halting station to ask the +officer for an interview with Katusha. At the last six halting +stations he could not get the permission for an interview from +any of the officers. Though they had been changed several times, +not one of them would allow Nekhludoff inside the halting +stations, so that he had not seen Katusha for more than a week. +This strictness was occasioned by the fact that an important +prison official was expected to pass that way. Now this official +had passed without looking in at the gang, after all, and +Nekhludoff hoped that the officer who had taken charge of the +gang in the morning would allow him an interview with the +prisoners, as former officers had done. + +The landlady offered Nekhludoff a trap to drive him to the +halting station, situated at the farther end of the village, but +Nekhludoff preferred to walk. A young labourer, a +broad-shouldered young fellow of herculean dimensions, with +enormous top-boots freshly blackened with strongly smelling tar, +offered himself as a guide. + +A dense mist obscured the sky, and it was so dark that when the +young fellow was three steps in advance of him Nekhludoff could +not see him unless the light of some window happened to fall on +the spot, but he could hear the heavy boots wading through the +deep, sticky slush. After passing the open place in front of the +church and the long street, with its rows of windows shining +brightly in the darkness, Nekhludoff followed his guide to the +outskirts of the village, where it was pitch dark. But soon here, +too, rays of light, streaming through the mist from the lamps in +the front of the halting station, became discernible through the +darkness. The reddish spots of light grew bigger and bigger; at +last the stakes of the palisade, the moving figure of the +sentinel, a post painted with white and black stripes and the +sentinel's box became visible. + +The sentinel called his usual "Who goes there?" as they +approached, and seeing they were strangers treated them with such +severity that he would not allow them to wait by the palisade; +but Nekhludoff's guide was not abashed by this severity. + +"Hallo, lad! why so fierce? You go and rouse your boss while we +wait here?" + +The sentinel gave no answer, but shouted something in at the gate +and stood looking at the broad-shouldered young labourer scraping +the mud off Nekhludoff's boots with a chip of wood by the light +of the lamp. From behind the palisade came the hum of male and +female voices. In about three minutes more something rattled, the +gate opened, and a sergeant, with his cloak thrown over his +shoulders, stepped out of the darkness into the lamplight. + +The sergeant was not as strict as the sentinel, but he was +extremely inquisitive. He insisted on knowing what Nekhludoff +wanted the officer for, and who he was, evidently scenting his +booty and anxious not to let it escape. Nekhludoff said he had +come on special business, and would show his gratitude, and would +the sergeant take a note for him to the officer. The sergeant +took the note, nodded, and went away. Some time after the gate +rattled again, and women carrying baskets, boxes, jugs and sacks +came out, loudly chattering in their peculiar Siberian dialect as +they stepped over the threshold of the gate. None of them wore +peasant costumes, but were dressed town fashion, wearing jackets +and fur-lined cloaks. Their skirts were tucked up high, and their +heads wrapped up in shawls. They examined Nekhludoff and his +guide curiously by the light of the lamp. One of them showed +evident pleasure at the sight of the broad-shouldered fellow, and +affectionately administered to him a dose of Siberian abuse. + +"You demon, what are you doing here? The devil take you," she +said, addressing him. + +"I've been showing this traveller here the way," answered the +young fellow. "And what have you been bringing here?" + +"Dairy produce, and I am to bring more in the morning." + +The guide said something in answer that made not only the women +but even the sentinel laugh, and, turning to Nekhludoff, he said: + +"You'll find your way alone? Won't get lost, will you?" + +"I shall find it all right." + +"When you have passed the church it's the second from the +two-storied house. Oh, and here, take my staff," he said, handing +the stick he was carrying, and which was longer than himself, to +Nekhludoff; and splashing through the mud with his enormous +boots, he disappeared in the darkness, together with the women. + +His voice mingling with the voices of the women was still audible +through the fog, when the gate again rattled, and the sergeant +appeared and asked Nekhludoff to follow him to the officer. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +NEKHLUDOFF AND THE OFFICER. + +This halting station, like all such stations along the Siberian +road, was surrounded by a courtyard, fenced in with a palisade of +sharp-pointed stakes, and consisted of three one-storied houses. +One of them, the largest, with grated windows, was for the +prisoners, another for the convoy soldiers, and the third, in +which the office was, for the officers. + +There were lights in the windows of all the three houses, and, +like all such lights, they promised, here in a specially +deceptive manner, something cosy inside the walls. Lamps were +burning before the porches of the houses and about five lamps +more along the walls lit up the yard. + +The sergeant led Nekhludoff along a plank which lay across the +yard up to the porch of the smallest of the houses. + +When he had gone up the three steps of the porch he let +Nekhludoff pass before him into the ante-room, in which a small +lamp was burning, and which was filled with smoky fumes. By the +stove a soldier in a coarse shirt with a necktie and black +trousers, and with one top-boot on, stood blowing the charcoal in +a somovar, using the other boot as bellows. [The long boots worn +in Russia have concertina-like sides, and when held to the +chimney of the somovar can be used instead of bellows to make the +charcoal inside burn up.] When he saw Nekhludoff, the soldier +left the somovar and helped him off with his waterproof; then +went into the inner room. + +"He has come, your honour." + +"Well, ask him in," came an angry voice. + +"Go in at the door," said the soldier, and went back to the +somovar. + +In the next room an officer with fair moustaches and a very red +face, dressed in an Austrian jacket that closely fitted his broad +chest and shoulders, sat at a covered table, on which were the +remains of his dinner and two bottles; there was a strong smell +of tobacco and some very strong, cheap scent in the warm room. On +seeing Nekhludoff the officer rose and gazed ironically and +suspiciously, as it seemed, at the newcomer. + +"What is it you want?" he asked, and, not waiting for a reply, +he shouted through the open door: + +"Bernoff, the somovar! What are you about?" + +"Coming at once." + +"You'll get it 'at once' so that you'll remember it," shouted the +officer, and his eyes flashed. + +"I'm coming," shouted the soldier, and brought in the somovar. +Nekhludoff waited while the soldier placed the somovar on the +table. When the officer had followed the soldier out of the room +with his cruel little eyes looking as if they were aiming where +best to hit him, he made the tea, got the four-cornered decanter +out of his travelling case and some Albert biscuits, and having +placed all this on the cloth he again turned to Nekhludoff. +"Well, how can I be of service to you?" + +"I should like to be allowed to visit a prisoner," said +Nekhludoff, without sitting down. + +"A political one? That's forbidden by the law," said the officer. + +"The woman I mean is not a political prisoner," said Nekhludoff. + +"Yes. But pray take a scat," said the officer. Nekhludoff sat +down. + +"She is not a political one, but at my request she has been +allowed by the higher authorities to join the political +prisoners--" + +"Oh, yes, I know," interrupted the other; "a little dark one? +Well, yes, that can be managed. Won't you smoke?" He moved a box +of cigarettes towards Nekhludoff, and, having carefully poured +out two tumblers of tea, he passed one to Nekhludoff. "If you +please," he said. + +"Thank you; I should like to see--" + +"The night is long. You'll have plenty of time. I shall order her +to be sent out to you." + +"But could I not see her where she is? Why need she be sent for?" +Nekhludoff said. + +"In to the political prisoners? It is against the law." + +"I have been allowed to go in several times. If there is any +danger of my passing anything in to them I could do it through +her just as well." + +"Oh, no; she would be searched," said the officer, and laughed in +an unpleasant manner. + +"Well, why not search me?" + +"All right; we'll manage without that," said the officer, opening +the decanter, and holding it out towards Nekhludoff's tumbler of +tea. "May I? No? Well, just as you like. When you are living here +in Siberia you are too glad to meet an educated person. Our work, +as you know, is the saddest, and when one is used to better +things it is very hard. The idea they have of us is that convoy +officers are coarse, uneducated men, and no one seems to remember +that we may have been born for a very different position." + +This officer's red face, his scents, his rings, and especially +his unpleasant laughter disgusted Nekhludoff very much, but +to-day, as during the whole of his journey, he was in that +serious, attentive state which did not allow him to behave +slightingly or disdainfully towards any man, but made him feel +the necessity of speaking to every one "entirely," as he +expressed to himself, this relation to men. When he had heard the +officer and understood his state of mind, he said in a serious +manner: + +"I think that in your position, too, some comfort could be found +in helping the suffering people," he said. + +"What are their sufferings? You don't know what these people +are." + +"They are not special people," said Nekhludoff; "they are just +such people as others, and some of them are quite innocent." + +"Of course, there are all sorts among them, and naturally one +pities them. Others won't let anything off, but I try to lighten +their condition where I can. It's better that I should suffer, +but not they. Others keep to the law in every detail, even as far +as to shoot, but I show pity. May I?--Take another," he said, and +poured out another tumbler of tea for Nekhludoff. + +"And who is she, this woman that you want to see?" he asked. + +"It is an unfortunate woman who got into a brothel, and was there +falsely accused of poisoning, and she is a very good woman," +Nekhludoff answered. + +The officer shook his head. "Yes, it does happen. I can tell you +about a certain Emma who lived in Kasan. She was a Hungarian by +birth, but she had quite Persian eyes," he continued, unable to +restrain a smile at the recollection; "there was so much chic +about her that a countess--" + +Nekhludoff interrupted the officer and returned to the former +topic of conversation. + +"I think that you could lighten the condition of the people while +they are in your charge. And in acting that way I am sure you +would find great joy!" said Nekhludoff, trying to pronounce as +distinctly as possible, as he might if talking to a foreigner or +a child. + +The officer looked at Nekhludoff impatiently, waiting for him to +stop so as to continue the tale about the Hungarian with Persian +eyes, who evidently presented herself very vividly to his +imagination and quite absorbed his attention. + +"Yes, of course, this is all quite true," he said, "and I do pity +them; but I should like to tell you about Emma. What do you think +she did--?" + +"It does not interest me," said Nekhludoff, "and I will tell you +straight, that though I was myself very different at one time, I +now hate that kind of relation to women." + +The officer gave Nekhludoff a frightened look. + +"Won't you take some more tea?" he said. + +"No, thank you." + +"Bernoff!" the officer called, "take the gentleman to Vakouloff. +Tell him to let him into the separate political room. He may +remain there till the inspection." + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE POLITICAL PRISONERS. + +Accompanied by the orderly, Nekhludoff went out into the +courtyard, which was dimly lit up by the red light of the lamps. + +"Where to?" asked the convoy sergeant, addressing the orderly. + +"Into the separate cell, No. 5." + +"You can't pass here; the boss has gone to the village and taken +the keys." + +"Well, then, pass this way." + +The soldier led Nekhludoff along a board to another entrance. +While still in the yard Nekhludoff could hear the din of voices +and general commotion going on inside as in a beehive when the +bees are preparing to swarm; but when he came nearer and the door +opened the din grew louder, and changed into distinct sounds of +shouting, abuse and laughter. He heard the clatter of chairs and +smelt the well-known foul air. This din of voices and the clatter +of the chairs, together with the close smell, always flowed into +one tormenting sensation, and produced in Nekhludoff a feeling of +moral nausea which grew into physical sickness, the two feelings +mingling with and heightening each other. + +The first thing Nekhludoff saw, on entering, was a large, +stinking tub. A corridor into which several doors opened led from +the entrance. The first was the family room, then the bachelors' +room, and at the very end two small rooms were set apart for the +political prisoners. + +The buildings, which were arranged to hold one hundred and fifty +prisoners, now that there were four hundred and fifty inside, +were so crowded that the prisoners could not all get into the +rooms, but filled the passage, too. Some were sitting or lying on +the floor, some were going out with empty teapots, or bringing +them back filled with boiling water. Among the latter was Taras. +He overtook Nekhludoff and greeted him affectionately. The kind +face of Taras was disfigured by dark bruises on his nose and +under his eye. + +"What has happened to you?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"Yes, something did happen," Taras said, with a smile. + +"All because of the woman," added a prisoner, who followed Taras; +"he's had a row with Blind Fedka." + +"And how's Theodosia?" + +"She's all right. Here I am bringing her the water for her tea," +Taras answered, and went into the family room. + +Nekhludoff looked in at the door. The room was crowded with women +and men, some of whom were on and some under the bedsteads; it +was full of steam from the wet clothes that were drying, and the +chatter of women's voices was unceasing. The next door led into +the bachelors' room. This room was still more crowded; even the +doorway and the passage in front of it were blocked by a noisy +crowd of men, in wet garments, busy doing or deciding something +or other. + +The convoy sergeant explained that it was the prisoner appointed +to buy provisions, paying off out of the food money what was +owing to a sharper who had won from or lent money to the +prisoners, and receiving back little tickets made of playing +cards. When they saw the convoy soldier and a gentleman, those +who were nearest became silent, and followed them with looks of +ill-will. Among them Nekhludoff noticed the criminal Fedoroff, +whom he knew, and who always kept a miserable lad with a swelled +appearance and raised eyebrows beside him, and also a disgusting, +noseless, pock-marked tramp, who was notorious among the +prisoners because he killed his comrade in the marshes while +trying to escape, and had, as it was rumoured, fed on his flesh. +The tramp stood in the passage with his wet cloak thrown over one +shoulder, looking mockingly and boldly at Nekhludoff, and did not +move out of the way. Nekhludoff passed him by. + +Though this kind of scene had now become quite familiar to him, +though he had during the last three months seen these four +hundred criminal prisoners over and over again in many different +circumstances; in the heat, enveloped in clouds of dust which +they raised as they dragged their chained feet along the road, +and at the resting places by the way, where the most horrible +scenes of barefaced debauchery had occurred, yet every time he +came among them, and felt their attention fixed upon him as it +was now, shame and consciousness of his sin against them +tormented him. To this sense of shame and guilt was added an +unconquerable feeling of loathing and horror. He knew that, +placed in a position such as theirs, they could not be other than +they were, and yet he was unable to stifle his disgust. + +"It's well for them do-nothings," Nekhludoff heard some one say +in a hoarse voice as he approached the room of the political +prisoners. Then followed a word of obscene abuse, and spiteful, +mocking laughter. + + + +CHAPTER X. + +MAKAR DEVKIN. + +When they had passed the bachelors' room the sergeant who +accompanied Nekhludoff left him, promising to come for him before +the inspection would take place. As soon as the sergeant was gone +a prisoner, quickly stepping with his bare feet and holding up +the chains, came close up to Nekhludoff, enveloping him in the +strong, acid smell of perspiration, and said in a mysterious +whisper: + +"Help the lad, sir; he's got into an awful mess. Been drinking. +To-day he's given his name as Karmanoff at the inspection. Take +his part, sir. We dare not, or they'll kill us," and looking +uneasily round he turned away. + +This is what had happened. The criminal Kalmanoff had persuaded a +young fellow who resembled him in appearance and was sentenced to +exile to change names with him and go to the mines instead of +him, while he only went to exile. Nekhludoff knew all this. Some +convict had told him about this exchange the week before. He +nodded as a sign that he understood and would do what was in his +power, and continued his way without looking round. + +Nekhludoff knew this convict, and was surprised by his action. +When in Ekaterinburg the convict had asked Nekhludoff to get a +permission for his wife to follow him. The convict was a man of +medium size and of the most ordinary peasant type, about thirty +years old. He was condemned to hard labour for an attempt to +murder and rob. His name was Makar Devkin. His crime was a very +curious one. In the account he gave of it to Nekhludoff, he said +it was not his but his devil's doing. He said that a traveller +had come to his father's house and hired his sledge to drive him +to a village thirty miles off for two roubles. Makar's father +told him to drive the stranger. Makar harnessed the horse, +dressed, and sat down to drink tea with the stranger. The +stranger related at the tea-table that he was going to be married +and had five hundred roubles, which he had earned in Moscow, with +him. When he had heard this, Makar went out into the yard and put +an axe into the sledge under the straw. "And I did not myself +know why I was taking the axe," he said. "'Take the axe,' says +_he_, and I took it. We got in and started. We drove along all +right; I even forgot about the axe. Well, we were getting near +the village; only about four miles more to go. The way from the +cross-road to the high road was up hill, and I got out. I walked +behind the sledge and _he_ whispers to me, 'What are you thinking +about? When you get to the top of the hill you will meet people +along the highway, and then there will be the village. He will +carry the money away. If you mean to do it, now's the time.' I +stooped over the sledge as if to arrange the straw, and the axe +seemed to jump into my hand of itself. The man turned round. +'What are you doing?' I lifted the axe and tried to knock him +down, but he was quick, jumped out, and took hold of my hands. +'What are you doing, you villain?' He threw me down into the +snow, and I did not even struggle, but gave in at once. He bound +my arms with his girdle, and threw me into the sledge, and took +me straight to the police station. I was imprisoned and tried. +The commune gave me a good character, said that I was a good man, +and that nothing wrong had been noticed about me. The masters for +whom I worked also spoke well of me, but we had no money to +engage a lawyer, and so I was condemned to four years' hard +labour." + +It was this man who, wishing to save a fellow-villager, knowing +that he was risking his life thereby, told Nekhludoff the +prisoner's secret, for doing which (if found out) he should +certainly be throttled. + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +MASLOVA AND HER COMPANIONS. + +The political prisoners were kept in two small rooms, the doors +of which opened into a part of the passage partitioned off from +the rest. The first person Nekhludoff saw on entering into this +part of the passage was Simonson in his rubber jacket and with a +log of pine wood in his hands, crouching in front of a stove, the +door of which trembled, drawn in by the heat inside. + +When he saw Nekhludoff he looked up at him from under his +protruding brow, and gave him his hand without rising. + +"I am glad you have come; I want to speak to you," he said, +looking Nekhludoff straight in the eyes with an expression of +importance. + +"Yes; what is it?" Nekhludoff asked. + +"It will do later on; I am busy just now," and Simonson turned +again towards the stove, which he was heating according to a +theory of his own, so as to lose as little heat energy as +possible. + +Nekhludoff was going to enter in at the first door, when Maslova, +stooping and pushing a large heap of rubbish and dust towards the +stove with a handleless birch broom, came out of the other. She +had a white jacket on, her skirt was tucked up, and a kerchief, +drawn down to her eyebrows, protected her hair from the dust. +When she saw Nekhludoff, she drew herself up, flushing and +animated, put down the broom, wiped her hands on her skirt, and +stopped right in front of him. "You are tidying up the +apartments, I see," said Nekhludoff, shaking hands. + +"Yes; my old occupation," and she smiled. "But the dirt! You +can't imagine what it is. We have been cleaning and cleaning. +Well, is the plaid dry?" she asked, turning to Simonson. + +"Almost," Simonson answered, giving her a strange look, which +struck Nekhludoff. + +"All right, I'll come for it, and will bring the cloaks to dry. +Our people are all in here," she said to Nekhludoff, pointing to +the first door as she went out of the second. + +Nekhludoff opened the door and entered a small room dimly lit by +a little metal lamp, which was standing low down on the shelf +bedstead. It was cold in the room, and there was a smell of the +dust, which had not had time to settle, damp and tobacco smoke. + +Only those who were close to the lamp were clearly visible, the +bedsteads were in the shade and wavering shadows glided over the +walls. Two men, appointed as caterers, who had gone to fetch +boiling water and provisions, were away; most of the political +prisoners were gathered together in the small room. There was +Nekhludoff's old acquaintance, Vera Doukhova, with her large, +frightened eyes, and the swollen vein on her forehead, in a grey +jacket with short hair, and thinner and yellower than ever.. She +had a newspaper spread out in front of her, and sat rolling +cigarettes with a jerky movement of her hands. + +Emily Rintzeva, whom Nekhludoff considered to be the pleasantest +of the political prisoners, was also here. She looked after the +housekeeping, and managed to spread a feeling of home comfort +even in the midst of the most trying surroundings. She sat beside +the lamp, with her sleeves rolled up, wiping cups and mugs, and +placing them, with her deft, red and sunburnt hands, on a cloth +that was spread on the bedstead. Rintzeva was a plain-looking +young woman, with a clever and mild expression of face, which, +when she smiled, had a way of suddenly becoming merry, animated +and captivating. It was with such a smile that she now welcomed +Nekhludoff. + +"Why, we thought you had gone back to Russia," she said. + +Here in a dark corner was also Mary Pavlovna, busy with a little, +fair-haired girl, who kept prattling in her sweet, childish +accents. + +"How nice that you have come," she said to Nekhludoff. + +"Have you seen Katusha? And we have a visitor here," and she +pointed to the little girl. + +Here was also Anatole Kryltzoff with felt boots on, sitting in a +far corner with his feet under him, doubled up and shivering, his +arms folded in the sleeves of his cloak, and looking at +Nekhludoff with feverish eyes. Nekhludoff was going up to him, +but to the right of the door a man with spectacles and reddish +curls, dressed in a rubber jacket, sat talking to the pretty, +smiling Grabetz. This was the celebrated revolutionist +Novodvoroff. Nekhludoff hastened to greet him. He was in a +particular hurry about it, because this man was the only one +among all the political prisoners whom he disliked. Novodvoroff's +eyes glistened through his spectacles as he looked at Nekhludoff +and held his narrow hand out to him. + +"Well, are you having a pleasant journey?" he asked, with +apparent irony. + +"Yes, there is much that is interesting," Nekhludoff answered, as +if he did not notice the irony, but took the question for +politeness, and passed on to Kryltzoff. + +Though Nekhludoff appeared indifferent, he was really far from +indifferent, and these words of Novodvoroff, showing his evident +desire to say or do something unpleasant, interfered with the +state of kindness in which Nekhludoff found himself, and he felt +depressed and sad. + +"Well, how are you?" he asked, pressing Kryltzoff's cold and +trembling hand. + +"Pretty well, only I cannot get warm; I got wet through," +Kryltzoff answered, quickly replacing his hands into the sleeves +of his cloak. "And here it is also beastly cold. There, look, the +window-panes are broken," and he pointed to the broken panes +behind the iron bars. "And how are you? Why did you not come?" + +"I was not allowed to, the authorities were so strict, but to-day +the officer is lenient." + +"Lenient indeed!" Kryltzoff remarked. "Ask Mary what she did this +morning." + +Mary Pavlovna from her place in the corner related what had +happened about the little girl that morning when they left the +halting station. + +"I think it is absolutely necessary to make a collective +protest," said Vera Doukhova, in a determined tone, and yet +looking now at one, now at another, with a frightened, undecided +look. "Valdemar Simonson did protest, but that is not +sufficient." + +"What protest!" muttered Kryltzoff, cross and frowning. Her want +of simplicity, artificial tone and nervousness had evidently been +irritating him for a long time. + +"Are you looking for Katusha?" he asked, addressing Nekhludoff. +"She is working all the time. She has cleaned this, the men's +room, and now she has gone to clean the women's! Only it is not +possible to clean away the fleas. And what is Mary doing there?" +he asked, nodding towards the corner where Mary Pavlovna sat. + +"She is combing out her adopted daughter's hair," replied +Rintzeva. + +"But won't she let the insects loose on us?" asked Kryltzoff. + +"No, no; I am very careful. She is a clean little girl now. You +take her," said Mary, turning to Rintzeva, "while I go and help +Katusha, and I will also bring him his plaid." + +Rintzeva took the little girl on her lap, pressing her plump, +bare, little arms to her bosom with a mother's tenderness, and +gave her a bit of sugar. As Mary Pavlovna left the room, two men +came in with boiling water and provisions. + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +NABATOFF AND MARKEL. + +One of the men who came in was a short, thin, young man, who had +a cloth-covered sheepskin coat on, and high top-boots. He stepped +lightly and quickly, carrying two steaming teapots, and holding a +loaf wrapped in a cloth under his arm. + +"Well, so our prince has put in an appearance again," he said, as +he placed the teapot beside the cups, and handed the bread to +Rintzeva. "We have bought wonderful things," he continued, as he +took off his sheepskin, and flung it over the heads of the others +into the corner of the bedstead. "Markel has bought milk and +eggs. Why, we'll have a regular ball to-day. And Rintzeva is +spreading out her aesthetic cleanliness," he said, and looked +with a smile at Rintzeva, "and now she will make the tea." + +The whole presence of this man--his motion, his voice, his +look--seemed to breathe vigour and merriment. The other newcomer +was just the reverse of the first. He looked despondent and sad. +He was short, bony, had very prominent cheek bones, a sallow +complexion, thin lips and beautiful, greenish eyes, rather far +apart. He wore an old wadded coat, top-boots and goloshes, and +was carrying two pots of milk and two round boxes made of birch +bark, which he placed in front of Rintzeva. He bowed to +Nekhludoff, bending only his neck, and with his eyes fixed on +him. Then, having reluctantly given him his damp hand to shake, +he began to take out the provisions. + +Both these political prisoners were of the people; the first was +Nabatoff, a peasant; the second, Markel Kondratieff, a factory +hand. Markel did not come among the revolutionists till he was +quite a man, Nabatoff only eighteen. After leaving the village +school, owing to his exceptional talents Nabatoff entered the +gymnasium, and maintained himself by giving lessons all the time +he studied there, and obtained the gold medal. He did not go to +the university because, while still in the seventh class of the +gymnasium, he made up his mind to go among the people and +enlighten his neglected brethren. This he did, first getting the +place of a Government clerk in a large village. He was soon +arrested because he read to the peasants and arranged a +co-operative industrial association among them. They kept him +imprisoned for eight months and then set him free, but he +remained under police supervision. As soon as he was liberated he +went to another village, got a place as schoolmaster, and did the +same as he had done in the first village. He was again taken up +and kept fourteen months in prison, where his convictions became +yet stronger. After that he was exiled to the Perm Government, +from where he escaped. Then he was put to prison for seven months +and after that exiled to Archangel. There he refused to take the +oath of allegiance that was required of them and was condemned to +be exiled to the Takoutsk Government, so that half his life since +he reached manhood was passed in prison and exile. All these +adventures did not embitter him nor weaken his energy, but rather +stimulated it. He was a lively young fellow, with a splendid +digestion, always active, gay and vigorous. He never repented of +anything, never looked far ahead, and used all his powers, his +cleverness, his practical knowledge to act in the present. When +free he worked towards the aim he had set himself, the +enlightening and the uniting of the working men, especially the +country labourers. When in prison he was just as energetic and +practical in finding means to come in contact with the outer +world, and in arranging his own life and the life of his group as +comfortably as the conditions would allow. Above all things he +was a communist. He wanted, as it seemed to him, nothing for +himself and contented himself with very little, but demanded very +much for the group of his comrades, and could work for it either +physically or mentally day and night, without sleep or food. As a +peasant he had been industrious, observant, clever at his work, +and naturally self-controlled, polite without any effort, and +attentive not only to the wishes but also the opinions of others. +His widowed mother, an illiterate, superstitious, old peasant +woman, was still living, and Nabatoff helped her and went to see +her while he was free. During the time he spent at home he +entered into all the interests of his mother's life, helped her +in her work, and continued his intercourse with former +playfellows; smoked cheap tobacco with them in so-called "dog's +feet," [a kind of cigarette that the peasants smoke, made of a +bit of paper and bent at one end into a hook] took part in their +fist fights, and explained to them how they were all being +deceived by the State, and how they ought to disentangle +themselves out of the deception they were kept in. When he +thought or spoke of what a revolution would do for the people he +always imagined this people from whom he had sprung himself left +in very nearly the same conditions as they were in, only with +sufficient land and without the gentry and without officials. The +revolution, according to him, and in this he differed from +Novodvoroff and Novodvoroff's follower, Markel Kondratieff, +should not alter the elementary forms of the life of the people, +should not break down the whole edifice, but should only alter +the inner walls of the beautiful, strong, enormous old structure +he loved so dearly. He was also a typical peasant in his views on +religion, never thinking about metaphysical questions, about the +origin of all origin, or the future life. God was to him, as +also to Arago, an hypothesis, which he had had no need of up to +now. He had no business with the origin of the world, whether +Moses or Darwin was right. Darwinism, which seemed so important +to his fellows, was only the same kind of plaything of the mind +as the creation in six days. The question how the world had +originated did not interest him, just because the question how it +would be best to live in this world was ever before him. He never +thought about future life, always bearing in the depth of his +soul the firm and quiet conviction inherited from his +forefathers, and common to all labourers on the land, that just +as in the world of plants and animals nothing ceases to exist, +but continually changes its form, the manure into grain, the +grain into a food, the tadpole into a frog, the caterpillar into +a butterfly, the acorn into an oak, so man also does not perish, +but only undergoes a change. He believed in this, and therefore +always looked death straight in the face, and bravely bore the +sufferings that lead towards it, but did not care and did not +know how to speak about it. He loved work, was always employed in +some practical business, and put his comrades in the way of the +same kind of practical work. + +The other political prisoner from among the people, Markel +Kondratieff, was a very different kind of man. He began to work +at the age of fifteen, and took to smoking and drinking in order +to stifle a dense sense of being wronged. He first realised he +was wronged one Christmas when they, the factory children, were +invited to a Christmas tree, got up by the employer's wife, where +he received a farthing whistle, an apple, a gilt walnut and a +fig, while the employer's children had presents given them which +seemed gifts from fairyland, and had cost more than fifty +roubles, as he afterwards heard. + +When he was twenty a celebrated revolutionist came to their +factory to work as a working girl, and noticing his superior +qualities began giving books and pamphlets to Kondratieff and to +talk and explain his position to him, and how to remedy it. When +the possibility of freeing himself and others from their +oppressed state rose clearly in his mind, the injustice of this +state appeared more cruel and more terrible than before, and he +longed passionately not only for freedom, but also for the +punishment of those who had arranged and who kept up this cruel +injustice. Kondratieff devoted himself with passion to the +acquirement of knowledge. It was not clear to him how knowledge +should bring about the realisation of the social ideal, but he +believed that the knowledge that had shown him the injustice of +the state in which he lived would also abolish that injustice +itself. Besides knowledge would, in his opinion, raise him above +others. Therefore he left off drinking and smoking, and devoted +all his leisure time to study. The revolutionist gave him +lessons, and his thirst for every kind of knowledge, and the +facility with which he took it in, surprised her. In two years he +had mastered algebra, geometry, history--which he was specially +fond of--and made acquaintance with artistic and critical, and +especially socialistic literature. The revolutionist was +arrested, and Kondratieff with her, forbidden books having been +found in their possession, and they were imprisoned and then +exiled to the Vologda Government. There Kondratieff became +acquainted with Novodvoroff, and read a great deal more +revolutionary literature, remembered it all, and became still +firmer in his socialistic views. While in exile he became leader +in a large strike, which ended in the destruction of a factory +and the murder of the director. He was again arrested and +condemned to Siberia. + +His religious views were of the same negative nature as his views +of the existing economic conditions. Having seen the absurdity of +the religion in which he was brought up, and having gained with +great effort, and at first with fear, but later with rapture, +freedom from it, he did not tire of viciously and with venom +ridiculing priests and religious dogmas, as if wishing to revenge +himself for the deception that had been practised on him. + +He was ascetic through habit, contented himself with very little, +and, like all those used to work from childhood and whose muscles +have been developed, he could work much and easily, and was quick +at any manual labour; but what he valued most was the leisure in +prisons and halting stations, which enabled him to continue his +studies. He was now studying the first volume of Karl Marks's, +and carefully hid the book in his sack as if it were a great +treasure. He behaved with reserve and indifference to all his +comrades, except Novodvoroff, to whom he was greatly attached, +and whose arguments on all subjects he accepted as unanswerable +truths. + +He had an indefinite contempt for women, whom he looked upon as a +hindrance in all necessary business. But he pitied Maslova and +was gentle with her, for he considered her an example of the way +the lower are exploited by the upper classes. The same reason +made him dislike Nekhludoff, so that he talked little with him, +and never pressed Nekhludoff's hand, but only held out his own to +be pressed when greeting him. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +LOVE AFFAIRS OF THE EXILES. + +The stove had burned up and got warm, the tea was made and poured +out into mugs and cups, and milk was added to it; rusks, fresh +rye and wheat bread, hard-boiled eggs, butter, and calf's head +and feet were placed on the cloth. Everybody moved towards the +part of the shelf beds which took the place of the table and sat +eating and talking. Rintzeva sat on a box pouring out the tea. +The rest crowded round her, only Kryltzoff, who had taken off his +wet cloak and wrapped himself in his dry plaid and lay in his own +place talking to Nekhludoff. + +After the cold and damp march and the dirt and disorder they had +found here, and after the pains they had taken to get it tidy, +after having drunk hot tea and eaten, they were all in the best +and brightest of spirits. + +The fact that the tramp of feet, the screams and abuse of the +criminals, reached them through the wall, reminding them of their +surroundings, seemed only to increase the sense of coziness. As +on an island in the midst of the sea, these people felt +themselves for a brief interval not swamped by the degradation +and sufferings which surrounded them; this made their spirits +rise, and excited them. They talked about everything except their +present position and that which awaited them. Then, as it +generally happens among young men, and women especially, if they +are forced to remain together, as these people were, all sorts of +agreements and disagreements and attractions, curiously blended, +had sprung up among them. Almost all of them were in love. +Novodvoroff was in love with the pretty, smiling Grabetz. This +Grabetz was a young, thoughtless girl who had gone in for a +course of study, perfectly indifferent to revolutionary +questions, but succumbing to the influence of the day, she +compromised herself in some way and was exiled. The chief +interest of her life during the time of her trial in prison and +in exile was her success with men, just as it had been when she +was free. Now on the way she comforted herself with the fact that +Novodvoroff had taken a fancy to her, and she fell in love with +him. Vera Doukhova, who was very prone to fall in love herself, +but did not awaken love in others, though she was always hoping +for mutual love, was sometimes drawn to Nabatoff, then to +Novodvoroff. Kryltzoff felt something like love for Mary +Pavlovna. He loved her with a man's love, but knowing how she +regarded this sort of love, hid his feelings under the guise of +friendship and gratitude for the tenderness with which she +attended to his wants. Nabatoff and Rintzeva were attached to +each other by very complicated ties. Just as Mary Pavlovna was a +perfectly chaste maiden, in the same way Rintzeva was perfectly +chaste as her own husband's wife. When only a schoolgirl of +sixteen she fell in love with Rintzeff, a student of the +Petersburg University, and married him before he left the +university, when she was only nineteen years old. During his +fourth year at the university her husband had become involved in +the students' rows, was exiled from Petersburg, and turned +revolutionist. She left the medical courses she was attending, +followed him, and also turned revolutionist. If she had not +considered her husband the cleverest and best of men she would +not have fallen in love with him; and if she had not fallen in +love would not have married; but having fallen in love and +married him whom she thought the best and cleverest of men, she +naturally looked upon life and its aims in the way the best and +cleverest of men looked at them. At first he thought the aim of +life was to learn, and she looked upon study as the aim of life. +He became a revolutionist, and so did she. She could demonstrate +very clearly that the existing state of things could not go on, +and that it was everybody's duty to fight this state of things +and to try to bring about conditions in which the individual +could develop freely, etc. And she imagined that she really +thought and felt all this, but in reality she only regarded +everything her husband thought as absolute truth, and only sought +for perfect agreement, perfect identification of her own soul +with his which alone could give her full moral satisfaction. The +parting with her husband and their child, whom her mother had +taken, was very hard to bear; but she bore it firmly and quietly, +since it was for her husband's sake and for that cause which she +had not the slightest doubt was true, since he served it. She was +always with her husband in thoughts, and did not love and could +not love any other any more than she had done before. But +Nabatoff's devoted and pure love touched and excited her. This +moral, firm man, her husband's friend, tried to treat her as a +sister, but something more appeared in his behaviour to her, and +this something frightened them both, and yet gave colour to their +life of hardship. + +So that in all this circle only Mary Pavlovna and Kondratieff +were quite free from love affairs. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +CONVERSATIONS IN PRISON. + +Expecting to have a private talk with Katusha, as usual, after +tea, Nekhludoff sat by the side of Kryltzoff, conversing with +him. Among other things he told him the story of Makar's crime +and about his request to him. Kryltzoff listened attentively, +gazing at Nekhludoff with glistening eyes. + +"Yes," said Kryltzoff suddenly, "I often think that here we are +going side by side with them, and who are they? The same for +whose sake we are going, and yet we not only do not know them, +but do not even wish to know them. And they, even worse than +that, they hate us and look upon us as enemies. This is +terrible." + +"There is nothing terrible about it," broke in Novodvoroff. "The +masses always worship power only. The government is in power, and +they worship it and hate us. To-morrow we shall have the power, +and they will worship us," he said with his grating voice. At +that moment a volley of abuse and the rattle of chains sounded +from behind the wall, something was heard thumping against it and +screaming and shrieking, some one was being beaten, and some one +was calling out, "Murder! help!" + +"Hear them, the beasts! What intercourse can there be between us +and such as them?" quietly remarked Novodvoroff. + +"You call them beasts, and Nekhludoff was just telling me about +such an action!" irritably retorted Kryltzoff, and went on to say +how Makar was risking his life to save a fellow-villager. "That +is not the action of a beast, it is heroism." + +"Sentimentality!" Novodvoroff ejaculated ironically; "it is +difficult for us to understand the emotions of these people and +the motives on which they act. You see generosity in the act, and +it may be simply jealousy of that other criminal." + +"How is it that you never wish to see anything good in +another?" Mary Pavlovna said suddenly, flaring up. + +"How can one see what does not exist!" + +"How does it not exist, when a man risks dying a terrible +death?" + +"I think," said Novodvoroff, "that if we mean to do our +work, the first condition is that" (here Kondratieff put +down the book he was reading by the lamplight and began +to listen attentively to his master's words) "we should not +give way to fancy, but look at things as they are. We should +do all in our power for the masses, and expect nothing in +return. The masses can only be the object of our activity, +but cannot be our fellow-workers as long as they remain in +that state of inertia they are in at present," he went on, as +if delivering a lecture. "Therefore, to expect help from +them before the process of development--that process which +we are preparing them for--has taken place is an illusion." + +"What process of development?" Kryltzoff began, flushing +all over. "We say that we are against arbitrary rule +and despotism, and is this not the most awful despotism?" + +"No despotism whatever," quietly rejoined Novodvoroff. "I am +only saying that I know the path that the people must travel, and +can show them that path." + +"But how can you be sure that the path you show is the true path? +Is this not the same kind of despotism that lay at the bottom of +the Inquisition, all persecutions, and the great revolution? +They, too, knew the one true way, by means of their science." + +"Their having erred is no proof of my going to err; besides, +there is a great difference between the ravings of idealogues and +the facts based on sound, economic science." Novodvoroff's voice +filled the room; he alone was speaking, all the rest were silent. + +"They are always disputing," Mary Pavlovna said, when there was a +moment's silence. + +"And you yourself, what do you think about it?" Nekhludoff asked her. + +"I think Kryltzoff is right when he says we should not force our +views on the people." + +"And you, Katusha?" asked Nekhludoff with a smile, waiting anxiously +for her answer, fearing she would say something awkward. + +"I think the common people are wronged," she said, and blushed +scarlet. "I think they are dreadfully wronged." + +"That's right, Maslova, quite right," cried Nabatoff. "They are +terribly wronged, the people, and they must not be wronged, and +therein lies the whole of our task." + +"A curious idea of the object of revolution," Novodvoroff +remarked crossly, and began to smoke. + +"I cannot talk to him," said Kryltzoff in a whisper, and was +silent. + +"And it is much better not to talk," Nekhludoff said. + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +NOVODVOROFF. + +Although Novodvoroff was highly esteemed of all the +revolutionists, though he was very learned, and considered very +wise, Nekhludoff reckoned him among those of the revolutionists +who, being below the average moral level, were very far below it. +His inner life was of a nature directly opposite to that of +Simonson's. Simonson was one of those people (of an essentially +masculine type) whose actions follow the dictates of their +reason, and are determined by it. Novodvoroff belonged, on the +contrary, to the class of people of a feminine type, whose reason +is directed partly towards the attainment of aims set by their +feelings, partly to the justification of acts suggested by their +feelings. The whole of Novodvoroff's revolutionary activity, +though he could explain it very eloquently and very convincingly, +appeared to Nekhludoff to be founded on nothing but ambition and +the desire for supremacy. At first his capacity for assimilating +the thoughts of others, and of expressing them correctly, had +given him a position of supremacy among pupils and teachers in +the gymnasium and the university, where qualities such as his are +highly prized, and he was satisfied. When he had finished his +studies and received his diploma he suddenly altered his views, +and from a modern liberal he turned into a rabid Narodovoletz, in +order (so Kryltzoff, who did not like him, said) to gain +supremacy in another sphere. + +As he was devoid of those moral and aesthetic qualities which +call forth doubts and hesitation, he very soon acquired a +position in the revolutionary world which satisfied him--that of +the leader of a party. Having once chosen a direction, he never +doubted or hesitated, and was therefore certain that he never +made a mistake. Everything seemed quite simple, clear and +certain. And the narrowness and one-sidedness of his views did +make everything seem simple and clear. One only had to be +logical, as he said. His self-assurance was so great that it +either repelled people or made them submit to him. As he carried +on his work among very young people, his boundless self-assurance +led them to believe him very profound and wise; the majority did +submit to him, and he had a great success in revolutionary +circles. His activity was directed to the preparation of a rising +in which he was to usurp the power and call together a council. A +programme, composed by him, should be proposed before the +council, and he felt sure that this programme of his solved every +problem, and that it would be impossible not to carry it out. + +His comrades respected but did not love him. He did not love any +one, looked upon all men of note as upon rivals, and would have +willingly treated them as old male monkeys treat young ones if he +could have done it. He would have torn all mental power, every +capacity, from other men, so that they should not interfere with +the display of his talents. He behaved well only to those who +bowed before him. Now, on the journey he behaved well to +Kondratieff, who was influenced by his propaganda; to Vera +Doukhova and pretty little Grabetz, who were both in love with +him. Although in principle he was in favour of the woman's +movement, yet in the depth of his soul he considered all women +stupid and insignificant except those whom he was sentimentally +in love with (as he was now in love with Grabetz), and such women +he considered to be exceptions, whose merits he alone was capable +of discerning. + +The question of the relations of the sexes he also looked upon as +thoroughly solved by accepting free union. He had one nominal and +one real wife, from both of whom he was separated, having come to +the conclusion that there was no real love between them, and now +he thought of entering on a free union with Grabetz. He despised +Nekhludoff for "playing the fool," as Novodvoroff termed it, with +Maslova, but especially for the freedom Nekhludoff took of +considering the defects of the existing system and the methods of +correcting those defects in a manner which was not only not +exactly the same as Novodvoroff's, but was Nekhludoff's own--a +prince's, that is, a fool's manner. Nekhludoff felt this relation +of Novodvoroff's towards him, and knew to his sorrow that in +spite of the state of good will in which he found himself on this +journey he could not help paying this man in his own coin, and +could not stifle the strong antipathy he felt for him. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +SIMONSON SPEAKS TO NEKHLUDOFF. + +The voices of officials sounded from the next room. All the +prisoners were silent, and a sergeant, followed by two convoy +soldiers, entered. The time of the inspection had come. The +sergeant counted every one, and when Nekhludoff's turn came he +addressed him with kindly familiarity. + +"You must not stay any longer, Prince, after the inspection; you +must go now." + +Nekhludoff knew what this meant, went up to the sergeant and +shoved a three-rouble note into his hand. + +"Ah, well, what is one to do with you; stay a bit longer, if you +like." The sergeant was about to go when another sergeant, +followed by a convict, a spare man with a thin beard and a bruise +under his eye, came in. + +"It's about the girl I have come," said the convict. + +"Here's daddy come," came the ringing accents of a child's voice, +and a flaxen head appeared from behind Rintzeva, who, with +Katusha's and Mary Pavlovna's help, was making a new garment for +the child out of one of Rintzeva's own petticoats. + +"Yes, daughter, it's me," Bousovkin, the prisoner, said softly. + +"She is quite comfortable here," said Mary Pavlovna, looking with +pity at Bousovkin's bruised face. "Leave her with us." + +"The ladies are making me new clothes," said the girl, pointing +to Rintzeva's sewing--"nice red ones," she went on, prattling. + +"Do you wish to sleep with us?" asked Rintzeva, caressing the +child. + +"Yes, I wish. And daddy, too." + +"No, daddy can't. Well, leave her then," she said, turning to the +father. + +"Yes, you may leave her," said the first sergeant, and went out +with the other. + +As soon as they were out of the room Nabatoff went up to +Bousovkin, slapped him on the shoulder, and said: "I say, old +fellow, is it true that Karmanoff wishes to exchange?" + +Bousovkin's kindly, gentle face turned suddenly sad and a veil +seemed to dim his eyes. + +"We have heard nothing--hardly," he said, and with the same +dimness still over his eyes he turned to the child. + +"Well, Aksutka, it seems you're to make yourself comfortable with +the ladies," and he hurried away. + +"It's true about the exchange, and he knows it very well," said +Nabatoff. + +"What are you going to do?" + +"I shall tell the authorities in the next town. I know both +prisoners by sight," said Nekhludoff. + +All were silent, fearing a recommencement of the dispute. + +Simonson, who had been lying with his arms thrown back behind his +head, and not speaking, rose, and determinately walked up to +Nekhludoff, carefully passing round those who were sitting. + +"Could you listen to me now?" + +"Of course," and Nekhludoff rose and followed him. + +Katusha looked up with an expression of suspense, and meeting +Nekhludoff's eyes, she blushed and shook her head. + +"What I want to speak to you about is this," Simonson began, when +they had come out into the passage. In the passage the din of the +criminal's voices and shouts sounded louder. Nekhludoff made a +face, but Simonson did not seem to take any notice. + +"Knowing of your relations to Katerina Maslova," he began +seriously and frankly, with his kind eyes looking straight into +Nekhludoff's face, "I consider it my duty"--He was obliged to +stop because two voices were heard disputing and shouting, both +at once, close to the door. + +"I tell you, blockhead, they are not mine," one voice shouted. + +"May you choke, you devil," snorted the other. + +At this moment Mary Pavlovna came out into the passage. + +"How can one talk here?" she said; "go in, Vera is alone there," +and she went in at the second door, and entered a tiny room, +evidently meant for a solitary cell, which was now placed at the +disposal of the political women prisoners, Vera Doukhova lay +covered up, head and all, on the bed. + +"She has got a headache, and is asleep, so she cannot hear you, +and I will go away," said Mary Pavlovna. + +"On the contrary, stay here," said Simonson; "I have no secrets +from any one, certainly none from you." + +"All right," said Mary Pavlovna, and moving her whole body from +side to side, like a child, so as to get farther back on to the +bed, she settled down to listen, her beautiful hazel eyes seeming +to look somewhere far away. + +"Well, then, this is my business," Simonson repeated. "Knowing of +your relations to Katerina Maslova, I consider myself bound to +explain to you my relations to her." + +Nekhludoff could not help admiring the simplicity and +truthfulness with which Simonson spoke to him. + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean that I should like to marry Katerina Maslova--" + +"How strange!" said Mary Pavlovna, fixing her eyes on Simonson. + +"--And so I made up my mind to ask her to be my wife," Simonson +continued. + +"What can I do? It depends on her," said Nekhludoff. + +"Yes; but she will not come to any decision without you." + +"Why?" + +"Because as long as your relations with her are unsettled she +cannot make up her mind." + +"As far as I am concerned, it is finally settled. I should like +to do what I consider to be my duty and also to lighten her fate, +but on no account would I wish to put any restraint on her." + +"Yes, but she does not wish to accept your sacrifice." + +"It is no sacrifice." + +"And I know that this decision of hers is final." + +"Well, then, there is no need to speak to me," said Nekhludoff. + +"She wants you to acknowledge that you think as she does." + +"How can I acknowledge that I must not do what I consider to be +my duty? All I can say is that I am not free, but she is." + +Simonson was silent; then, after thinking a little, he said: +"Very well, then, I'll tell her. You must not think I am in love +with her," he continued; "I love her as a splendid, unique, +human being who has suffered much. I want nothing from her. I +have only an awful longing to help her, to lighten her posi--" + +Nekhludoff was surprised to hear the trembling in Simonson's +voice. + +"--To lighten her position," Simonson continued. "If she does not +wish to accept your help, let her accept mine. If she consents, I +shall ask to be sent to the place where she will be imprisoned. +Four years are not an eternity. I would live near her, and +perhaps might lighten her fate--" and he again stopped, too +agitated to continue. + +"What am I to say?" said Nekhludoff. "I am very glad she has +found such a protector as you--" + +"That's what I wanted to know," Simonson interrupted. + +"I wanted to know if, loving her and wishing her happiness, you +would consider it good for her to marry me?" + +"Oh, yes," said Nekhludoff decidedly. + +"It all depends on her; I only wish that this suffering soul +should find rest," said Simonson, with such childlike tenderness +as no one could have expected from so morose-looking a man. + +Simonson rose, and stretching his lips out to Nekhludoff, smiled +shyly and kissed him. + +"So I shall tell her," and he went away. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +"I HAVE NOTHING MORE TO SAY." + +"What do you think of that?" said Mary Pavlovna. "In love--quite +in love. Now, that's a thing I never should have expected, that +Valdemar Simonson should be in love, and in the silliest, most +boyish manner. It is strange, and, to say the truth, it is sad," +and she sighed. + +"But she? Katusha? How does she look at it, do you think?" +Nekhludoff asked. + +"She?" Mary Pavlovna waited, evidently wishing to give as exact +an answer as possible. "She? Well, you see, in spite of her past +she has one of the most moral natures--and such fine feelings. +She loves you--loves you well, and is happy to be able to do you +even the negative good of not letting you get entangled with her. +Marriage with you would be a terrible fall for her, worse than +all that's past, and therefore she will never consent to it. And +yet your presence troubles her." + +"Well, what am I to do? Ought I to vanish?" + +Mary Pavlovna smiled her sweet, childlike smile, and said, "Yes, +partly." + +"How is one to vanish partly?" + +"I am talking nonsense. But as for her, I should like to tell you +that she probably sees the silliness of this rapturous kind of +love (he has not spoken to her), and is both flattered and afraid +of it. I am not competent to judge in such affairs, you know, +still I believe that on his part it is the most ordinary man's +feeling, though it is masked. He says that this love arouses his +energy and is Platonic, but I know that even if it is +exceptional, still at the bottom it is degrading." + +Mary Pavlovna had wandered from the subject, having started on +her favourite theme. + +"Well, but what am I to do?" Nekhludoff asked. + +"I think you should tell her everything; it is always best that +everything should be clear. Have a talk with her; I shall call +her. Shall I?" said Mary Pavlovna. + +"If you please," said Nekhludoff, and Mary Pavlovna went. + +A strange feeling overcame Nekhludoff when he was alone in the +little room with the sleeping Vera Doukhova, listening to her +soft breathing, broken now and then by moans, and to the +incessant dirt that came through the two doors that separated him +from the criminals. What Simonson had told him freed him from the +self-imposed duty, which had seemed hard and strange to him in +his weak moments, and yet now he felt something that was not +merely unpleasant but painful. + +He had a feeling that this offer of Simonson's destroyed the +exceptional character of his sacrifice, and thereby lessened its +value in his own and others' eyes; if so good a man who was not +bound to her by any kind of tie wanted to join his fate to hers, +then this sacrifice was not so great. There may have also been an +admixture of ordinary jealousy. He had got so used to her love +that he did not like to admit that she loved another. + +Then it also upset the plans he had formed of living near her +while she was doing her term. If she married Simonson his +presence would be unnecessary, and he would have to form new +plans. + +Before he had time to analyse his feelings the loud din of the +prisoners' voices came in with a rush (something special was +going on among them to-day) as the door opened to let Katusha in. + +She stepped briskly close up to him and said, "Mary Pavlovna has +sent me." + +"Yes, I must have a talk with you. Sit down. Valdemar Simonson +has been speaking to me." + +She sat down and folded her hands in her lap and seemed quite +calm, but hardly had Nekhludoff uttered Simonson's name when she +flushed crimson. + +"What did he say?" she asked. + +"He told me he wanted to marry you." + +Her face suddenly puckered up with pain, but she said nothing and +only cast down her eyes. + +"He is asking for my consent or my advice. I told him that it all +depends entirely on you--that you must decide." + +"Ah, what does it all mean? Why?" she muttered, and looked in +his eyes with that peculiar squint that always strangely affected +Nekhludoff. + +They sat silent for a few minutes looking into each other's eyes, +and this look told much to both of them. + +"You must decide," Nekhludoff repeated. + +"What am I to decide? Everything has long been decided." + +"No; you must decide whether you will accept Mr. Simonson's +offer," said Nekhludoff. + +"What sort of a wife can I be--I, a convict? Why should I ruin +Mr. Simonson, too?" she said, with a frown. + +"Well, but if the sentence should be mitigated." + +"Oh, leave me alone. I have nothing more to say," she said, and +rose to leave the room. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +NEVEROFF'S FATE. + +When, following Katusha, Nekhludoff returned to the men's room, +he found every one there in agitation. Nabatoff, who went about +all over the place, and who got to know everybody, and noticed +everything, had just brought news which staggered them all. The +news was that he had discovered a note on a wall, written by the +revolutionist Petlin, who had been sentenced to hard labour, and +who, every one thought, had long since reached the Kara; and now +it turned out that he had passed this way quite recently, the +only political prisoner among criminal convicts. + +"On the 17th of August," so ran the note, "I was sent off alone +with the criminals. Neveroff was with me, but hanged himself in +the lunatic asylum in Kasan. I am well and in good spirits and +hope for the best." + +All were discussing Petlin's position and the possible reasons of +Neveroff's suicide. Only Kryltzoff sat silent and preoccupied, +his glistening eyes gazing fixedly in front of him. + +"My husband told me that Neveroff had a vision while still in the +Petropavlovski prison," said Rintzeva. + +"Yes, he was a poet, a dreamer; this sort of people cannot stand +solitary confinement," said Novodvoroff. "Now, I never gave my +imagination vent when in solitary confinement, but arranged my +days most systematically, and in this way always bore it very +well." + +"What is there unbearable about it? Why, I used to be glad when +they locked me up," said Nabatoff cheerfully, wishing to dispel +the general depression. + +"A fellow's afraid of everything; of being arrested himself and +entangling others, and of spoiling the whole business, and then +he gets locked up, and all responsibility is at an end, and he +can rest; he can just sit and smoke." + +"You knew him well?" asked Mary Pavlovna, glancing anxiously at +the altered, haggard expression of Kryltzoff's face. + +"Neveroff a dreamer?" Kryltzoff suddenly began, panting for +breath as if he had been shouting or singing for a long time. +"Neveroff was a man 'such as the earth bears few of,' as our +doorkeeper used to express it. Yes, he had a nature like crystal, +you could see him right through; he could not lie, he could not +dissemble; not simply thin skinned, but with all his nerves laid +bare, as if he were flayed. Yes, his was a complicated, rich +nature, not such a-- But where is the use of talking?" he added, +with a vicious frown. "Shall we first educate the people and then +change the forms of life, or first change the forms and then +struggle, using peaceful propaganda or terrorism? So we go on +disputing while _they_ kill; _they_ do not dispute--they know +their business; they don't care whether dozens, hundreds of men +perish--and what men! No; that the best should perish is just +what they want. Yes, Herzen said that when the Decembrists were +withdrawn from circulation the average level of our society sank. +I should think so, indeed. Then Herzen himself and his fellows +were withdrawn; now is the turn of the Neveroffs." + +"They can't all be got rid off," said Nabatoff, in his cheerful +tones. "There will always be left enough to continue the breed. +No, there won't, if we show any pity to _them_ there," Nabatoff +said, raising his voice; and not letting himself be interrupted, +"Give me a cigarette." + +"Oh, Anatole, it is not good for you," said Mary Pavlovna. +"Please do not smoke." + +"Oh, leave me alone," he said angrily, and lit a cigarette, but +at once began to cough and to retch, as if he were going to be +sick. Having cleared his throat though, he went on: + +"What we have been doing is not the thing at all. Not to argue, +but for all to unite--to destroy them--that's it." + +"But _they_ are also human beings," said Nekhludoff. + +"No, _they_ are not human, they who can do what they are doing-- +No-- There, now, I heard that some kind of bombs and balloons +have been invented. Well, one ought to go up in such a balloon +and sprinkle bombs down on _them_ as if _they_ were bugs, until +_they_ are all exterminated-- Yes. Because--" he was going to +continue, but, flushing all over, he began coughing worse than +before, and a stream of blood rushed from his mouth. + +Nabatoff ran to get ice. Mary Pavlovna brought valerian drops and +offered them to him, but he, breathing quickly and heavily, +pushed her away with his thin, white hand, and kept his eyes +closed. When the ice and cold water had eased Kryltzoff a little, +and he had been put to bed, Nekhludoff, having said good-night to +everybody, went out with the sergeant, who had been waiting for +him some time. + +The criminals were now quiet, and most of them were asleep. +Though the people were lying on and under the bed shelves and in +the space between, they could not all be placed inside the rooms, +and some of them lay in the passage with their sacks under their +heads and covered with their cloaks. The moans and sleepy voices +came through the open doors and sounded through the passage. +Everywhere lay compact heaps of human beings covered with prison +cloaks. Only a few men who were sitting in the bachelors' room by +the light of a candle end, which they put out when they noticed +the sergeant, were awake, and an old man who sat naked under the +lamp in the passage picking the vermin off his shirt. The foul +air in the political prisoners' rooms seemed pure compared to the +stinking closeness here. The smoking lamp shone dimly as through +a mist, and it was difficult to breathe. Stepping along the +passage, one had to look carefully for an empty space, and having +put down one foot had to find place for the other. Three persons, +who had evidently found no room even in the passage, lay in the +anteroom, close to the stinking and leaking tub. One of these was +an old idiot, whom Nekhludoff had often seen marching with the +gang; another was a boy about twelve; he lay between the two +other convicts, with his head on the leg of one of them. + +When he had passed out of the gate Nekhludoff took a deep breath +and long continued to breathe in deep draughts of frosty air. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +WHY IS IT DONE? + +It had cleared up and was starlight. Except in a few places the +mud was frozen hard when Nekhludoff returned to his inn and +knocked at one of its dark windows. The broad-shouldered labourer +came barefooted to open the door for him and let him in. Through +a door on the right, leading to the back premises, came the loud +snoring of the carters, who slept there, and the sound of many +horses chewing oats came from the yard. The front room, where a +red lamp was burning in front of the icons, smelt of wormwood and +perspiration, and some one with mighty lungs was snoring behind a +partition. Nekhludoff undressed, put his leather travelling +pillow on the oilcloth sofa, spread out his rug and lay down, +thinking over all he had seen and heard that day; the boy +sleeping on the liquid that oozed from the stinking tub, with his +head on the convict's leg, seemed more dreadful than all else. + +Unexpected and important as his conversation with Simonson and +Katusha that evening had been, he did not dwell on it; his +situation in relation to that subject was so complicated and +indefinite that he drove the thought from his mind. But the +picture of those unfortunate beings, inhaling the noisome air, +and lying in the liquid oozing out of the stinking tub, +especially that of the boy, with his innocent face asleep on the +leg of a criminal, came all the more vividly to his mind, and he +could not get it out of his head. + +To know that somewhere far away there are men who torture other +men by inflicting all sorts of humiliations and inhuman +degradation and sufferings on them, or for three months +incessantly to look on while men were inflicting these +humiliations and sufferings on other men is a very different +thing. And Nekhludoff felt it. More than once during these three +months he asked himself, "Am I mad because I see what others do +not, or are they mad that do these things that I see?" + +Yet they (and there were many of them) did what seemed so +astonishing and terrible to him with such quiet assurance that +what they were doing was necessary and was important and useful +work that it was hard to believe they were mad; nor could he, +conscious of the clearness of his thoughts, believe he was mad; +and all this kept him continually in a state of perplexity. + +This is how the things he saw during these three months impressed +Nekhludoff: From among the people who were free, those were +chosen, by means of trials and the administration, who were the +most nervous, the most hot tempered, the most excitable, the most +gifted, and the strongest, but the least careful and cunning. +These people, not a wit more dangerous than many of those who +remained free, were first locked in prisons, transported to +Siberia, where they were provided for and kept months and years +in perfect idleness, and away from nature, their families, and +useful work--that is, away from the conditions necessary for a +natural and moral life. This firstly. Secondly, these people were +subjected to all sorts of unnecessary indignity in these +different Places--chains, shaved heads, shameful clothing--that +is, they were deprived of the chief motives that induce the weak +to live good lives, the regard for public opinion, the sense of +shame and the consciousness of human dignity. Thirdly, they were +continually exposed to dangers, such as the epidemics so frequent +in places of confinement, exhaustion, flogging, not to mention +accidents, such as sunstrokes, drowning or conflagrations, when +the instinct of self-preservation makes even the kindest, most +moral men commit cruel actions, and excuse such actions when +committed by others. + +Fourthly, these people were forced to associate with others who +were particularly depraved by life, and especially by these very +institutions--rakes, murderers and villains--who act on those who +are not yet corrupted by the measures inflicted on them as leaven +acts on dough. + +And, fifthly, the fact that all sorts of violence, cruelty, +inhumanity, are not only tolerated, but even permitted by the +government, when it suits its purposes, was impressed on them +most forcibly by the inhuman treatment they were subjected to; by +the sufferings inflicted on children, women and old men; by +floggings with rods and whips; by rewards offered for bringing a +fugitive back, dead or alive; by the separation of husbands and +wives, and the uniting them with the wives and husbands of others +for sexual intercourse; by shooting or hanging them. To those who +were deprived of their freedom, who were in want and misery, acts +of violence were evidently still more permissible. All these +institutions seemed purposely invented for the production of +depravity and vice, condensed to such a degree that no other +conditions could produce it, and for the spreading of this +condensed depravity and vice broadcast among the whole population. + +"Just as if a problem had been set to find the best, the surest +means of depraving the greatest number of persons," thought +Nekhludoff, while investigating the deeds that were being done in +the prisons and halting stations. Every year hundreds of +thousands were brought to the highest pitch of depravity, and +when completely depraved they were set free to carry the +depravity they had caught in prison among the people. In the +prisons of Tamen, Ekaterinburg, Tomsk and at the halting stations +Nekhludoff saw how successfully the object society seemed to have +set itself was attained. + +Ordinary, simple men with a conception of the demands of the +social and Christian Russian peasant morality lost this +conception, and found a new one, founded chiefly on the idea that +any outrage or violence was justifiable if it seemed profitable. +After living in a prison those people became conscious with the +whole of their being that, judging by what was happening to +themselves, all the moral laws, the respect and the sympathy for +others which church and the moral teachers preach, was really set +aside, and that, therefore, they, too, need not keep the laws. +Nekhludoff noticed the effects of prison life on all the convicts +he knew--on Fedoroff, on Makar, and even on Taras, who, after two +months among the convicts, struck Nekhludoff by the want of +morality in his arguments. Nekhludoff found out during his +journey how tramps, escaping into the marshes, persuade a comrade +to escape with them, and then kill him and feed on his flesh. (He +saw a living man who was accused of this and acknowledged the +fact.) And the most terrible part was that this was not a +solitary, but a recurring case. + +Only by a special cultivation of vice, such as was perpetrated in +these establishments, could a Russian be brought to the state of +this tramp, who excelled Nietzsche's newest teaching, and held +that everything was possible and nothing forbidden, and who +spread this teaching first among the convicts and then among the +people in general. + +The only explanation of all that was being done was the wish to +put a stop to crime by fear, by correction, by lawful vengeance +as it was written in the books. But in reality nothing in the +least resembling any of these results came to pass. Instead of +vice being put a stop to, it only spread further; instead of +being frightened, the criminals were encouraged (many a tramp +returned to prison of his own free will). Instead of being +corrected, every kind of vice was systematically instilled, while +the desire for vengeance did not weaken by the measures of the +government, but was bred in the people who had none of it. + +"Then why is it done?" Nekhludoff asked himself, but could find +no answer. And what seemed most surprising was that all this was +not being done accidentally, not by mistake, not once, but that +it had continued for centuries, with this difference only, that +at first the people's nostrils used to be torn and their ears cut +off; then they were branded, and now they were manacled and +transported by steam instead of on the old carts. The arguments +brought forward by those in government service, who said that the +things which aroused his indignation were simply due to the +imperfect arrangements of the places of confinement, and that +they could all be put to rights if prisons of a modern type were +built, did not satisfy Nekhludoff, because he knew that what +revolted him was not the consequence of a better or worse +arrangement of the prisons. He had read of model prisons with +electric bells, of executions by electricity, recommended by +Tard; but this refined kind of violence revolted him even more. + +But what revolted Nekhludoff most was that there were men in the +law courts and in the ministry who received large salaries, taken +from the people, for referring to books written by men like +themselves and with like motives, and sorting actions that +violated laws made by themselves according to different statutes; +and, in obedience to these statutes, sending those guilty of such +actions to places where they were completely at the mercy of +cruel, hardened inspectors, jailers, convoy soldiers, where +millions of them perished body and soul. + +Now that he had a closer knowledge of prisons, Nekhludoff found +out that all those vices which developed among the +prisoners--drunkenness, gambling, cruelty, and all these terrible +crimes, even cannibalism--were not casual, or due to degeneration +or to the existence of monstrosities of the criminal type, as +science, going hand in hand with the government, explained it, +but an unavoidable consequence of the incomprehensible delusion +that men may punish one another. Nekhludoff saw that cannibalism +did not commence in the marshes, but in the ministry. He saw that +his brother-in-law, for example, and, in fact, all the lawyers +and officials, from the usher to the minister, do not care in the +least for justice or the good of the people about whom they +spoke, but only for the roubles they were paid for doing the +things that were the source whence all this degradation and +suffering flowed. This was quite evident. + +"Can it be, then, that all this is done simply through +misapprehension? Could it not be managed that all these officials +should have their salaries secured to them, and a premium paid +them, besides, so that they should leave off, doing all that they +were doing now?" Nekhludoff thought, and in spite of the fleas, +that seemed to spring up round him like water from a fountain +whenever he moved, he fell fast asleep. + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE JOURNEY RESUMED. + +The carters had left the inn long before Nekhludoff awoke. The +landlady had had her tea, and came in wiping her fat, perspiring +neck with her handkerchief, and said that a soldier had brought a +note from the halting station. The note was from Mary Pavlovna. +She wrote that Kryltzoff's attack was more serious than they had +imagined. "We wished him to be left behind and to remain with +him, but this has not been allowed, so that we shall take him on; +but we fear the worst. Please arrange so that if he should be +left in the next town, one of us might remain with him. If in +order to get the permission to stay I should be obliged to get +married to him, I am of course ready to do so." + +Nekhludoff sent the young labourer to the post station to order +horses and began packing up hurriedly. Before he had drunk his +second tumbler of tea the three-horsed postcart drove up to the +porch with ringing bells, the wheels rattling on the frozen mud +as on stones. Nekhludoff paid the fat-necked landlady, hurried +out and got into the cart, and gave orders to the driver to go on +as fast as possible, so as to overtake the gang. Just past the +gates of the commune pasture ground they did overtake the carts, +loaded with sacks and the sick prisoners, as they rattled over +the frozen mud, that was just beginning to be rolled smooth by +the wheels (the officer was not there, he had gone in advance). +The soldiers, who had evidently been drinking, followed by the +side of the road, chatting merrily. There were a great many +carts. In each of the first carts sat six invalid criminal +convicts, close packed. On each of the last two were three +political prisoners. Novodvoroff, Grabetz and Kondratieff sat on +one, Rintzeva, Nabatoff and the woman to whom Mary Pavlovna had +given up her own place on the other, and on one of the carts lay +Kryltzoff on a heap of hay, with a pillow under his head, and +Mary Pavlovna sat by him on the edge of the cart. Nekhludoff +ordered his driver to stop, got out and went up to Kryltzoff. One +of the tipsy soldiers waved his hand towards Nekhludoff, but he +paid no attention and started walking by Kryltzoff's side, +holding on to the side of the cart with his hand. Dressed in a +sheepskin coat, with a fur cap on his head and his mouth bound up +with a handkerchief, he seemed paler and thinner than ever. His +beautiful eyes looked very large and brilliant. Shaken from side +to side by the jottings of the cart, he lay with his eyes fixed +on Nekhludoff; but when asked about his health, he only closed +his eyes and angrily shook his head. All his energy seemed to be +needed in order to bear the jolting of the cart. Mary Pavlovna +was on the other side. She exchanged a significant glance with +Nekhludoff, which expressed all her anxiety about Kryltzoff's +state, and then began to talk at once in a cheerful manner. + +"It seems the officer is ashamed of himself," she shouted, so as +to be heard above the rattle of the wheels. "Bousovkin's manacles +have been removed, and he is carrying his little girl himself. +Katusha and Simonson are with him, and Vera, too. She has taken +my place." + +Kryltzoff said something that could not be heard because of the +noise, and frowning in the effort to repress his cough shook his +head. Then Nekhludoff stooped towards him, so as to hear, and +Kryltzoff, freeing his mouth of the handkerchief, whispered: + +"Much better now. Only not to catch cold." + +Nekhludoff nodded in acquiescence, and again exchanged a glance +with Mary Pavlovna. + +"How about the problem of the three bodies?" whispered Kryltzoff, +smiling with great difficulty. "The solution is difficult." + +Nekhludoff did not understand, but Mary Pavlovna explained that +he meant the well-known mathematical problem which defined the +position of the sun, moon and earth, which Kryltzoff compared to +the relations between Nekhludoff, Katusha and Simonson. +Kryltzoff nodded, to show that Mary Pavlovna had explained his +joke correctly. + +"The decision does not lie with me," Nekhludoff said. + +"Did you get my note? Will you do it?" Mary Pavlovna asked. + +"Certainly," answered Nekhludoff; and noticing a look of +displeasure on Kryltzoff's face, he returned to his conveyance, +and holding with both hands to the sides of the cart, got in, +which jolted with him over the ruts of the rough road. He passed +the gang, which, with its grey cloaks and sheepskin coats, chains +and manacles, stretched over three-quarters of a mile of the +road. On the opposite side of the road Nekhludoff noticed +Katusha's blue shawl, Vera Doukhova's black coat, and Simonson's +crochet cap, white worsted stockings, with bands, like those of +sandals, tied round him. Simonson was walking with the woman and +carrying on a heated discussion. + +When they saw Nekhludoff they bowed to him, and Simonson raised +his hat in a solemn manner. Nekhludoff, having nothing to say, +did not stop, and was soon ahead of the carts. Having got again +on to a smoother part of the road, they drove still more quickly, +but they had continually to turn aside to let pass long rows of +carts that were moving along the road in both directions. + +The road, which was cut up by deep ruts, lay through a thick pine +forest, mingled with birch trees and larches, bright with yellow +leaves they had not yet shed. By the time Nekhludoff had passed +about half the gang he reached the end of the forest. Fields now +lay stretched along both sides of the road, and the crosses and +cupolas of a monastery appeared in the distance. The clouds had +dispersed, and it had cleared up completely; the leaves, the +frozen puddles and the gilt crosses and cupolas of the monastery +glittered brightly in the sun that had risen above the forest. A +little to the right mountains began to gleam white in the +blue-grey distance, and the trap entered a large village. The +village street was full of people, both Russians and other +nationalities, wearing peculiar caps and cloaks. Tipsy men and +women crowded and chattered round booths, traktirs, public houses +and carts. The vicinity of a town was noticeable. Giving a pull +and a lash of the whip to the horse on his right, the driver sat +down sideways on the right edge of the seat, so that the reins +hung over that side, and with evident desire of showing off, he +drove quickly down to the river, which had to be crossed by a +ferry. The raft was coming towards them, and had reached the +middle of the river. About twenty carts were waiting to cross. +Nekhludoff had not long to wait. The raft, which had been pulled +far up the stream, quickly approached the landing, carried by the +swift waters. The tall, silent, broad-shouldered, muscular +ferryman, dressed in sheepskins, threw the ropes and moored the +raft with practised hand, landed the carts that were on it, and +put those that were waiting on the bank on board. The whole raft +was filled with vehicles and horses shuffling at the sight of the +water. The broad, swift river splashed against the sides of the +ferryboats, tightening their moorings. + +When the raft was full, and Nekhludoff's cart, with the horses +taken out of it, stood closely surrounded by other carts on the +side of the raft, the ferryman barred the entrance, and, paying +no heed to the prayers of those who had not found room in the +raft, unfastened the ropes and set off. + +All was quiet on the raft; one could hear nothing but the tramp +of the ferryman's boots and the horses changing from foot to +foot. + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +"JUST A WORTHLESS TRAMP." + +Nekhludoff stood on the edge of the raft looking at the broad +river. Two pictures kept rising up in his mind. One, that of +Kryltzoff, unprepared for death and dying, made a heavy, +sorrowful impression on him. The other, that of Katusha, full of +energy, having gained the love of such a man as Simonson, and +found a true and solid path towards righteousness, should have +been pleasant, yet it also created a heavy impression on +Nekhludoff's mind, and he could not conquer this impression. + +The vibrating sounds of a big brass bell reached them from the +town. Nekhludoff's driver, who stood by his side, and the other +men on the raft raised their caps and crossed themselves, all +except a short, dishevelled old man, who stood close to the +railway and whom Nekhludoff had not noticed before. He did not +cross himself, but raised his head and looked at Nekhludoff. This +old man wore a patched coat, cloth trousers and worn and patched +shoes. He had a small wallet on his back, and a high fur cap with +the fur much rubbed on his head. + +"Why don't you pray, old chap?" asked Nekhludoff's driver as he +replaced and straightened his cap. "Are you unbaptized?" + +"Who's one to pray to?" asked the old man quickly, in a +determinately aggressive tone. + +"To whom? To God, of course," said the driver sarcastically. + +"And you just show me where he is, that god." There was something +so serious and firm in the expression of the old man, that the +driver felt that he had to do with a strong-minded man, and was a +bit abashed. And trying not to show this, not to be silenced, and +not to be put to shame before the crowd that was observing them, +he answered quickly. + +"Where? In heaven, of course." + +"And have you been up there?" + +"Whether I've been or not, every one knows that you must pray to +God." + +"No one has ever seen God at any time. The only begotten Son who +is in the bosom of the Father he hath declared him," said the old +man in the same rapid manner, and with a severe frown on his +brow. + +"It's clear you are not a Christian, but a hole worshipper. You +pray to a hole," said the driver, shoving the handle of his whip +into his girdle, pulling straight the harness on one of the +horses. + +Some one laughed. + +"What is your faith, Dad?" asked a middle-aged man, who stood by +his cart on the same side of the raft. + +"I have no kind of faith, because I believe no one--no one but +myself," said the old man as quickly and decidedly as before. + +"How can you believe yourself?" Nekhludoff asked, entering into a +conversation with him. "You might make a mistake." + +"Never in your life," the old man said decidedly, with a toss of +his head. + +"Then why are there different faiths?" Nekhludoff asked. + +"It's just because men believe others and do not believe +themselves that there are different faiths. I also believed +others, and lost myself as in a swamp,--lost myself so that I had +no hope of finding my way out. Old believers and new believers +and Judaisers and Khlysty and Popovitzy, and Bespopovitzy and +Avstriaks and Molokans and Skoptzy--every faith praises itself +only, and so they all creep about like blind puppies. There are +many faiths, but the spirit is one--in me and in you and in him. +So that if every one believes himself all will be united. Every +one be himself, and all will be as one." + +The old man spoke loudly and often looked round, evidently +wishing that as many as possible should hear him. + +"And have you long held this faith?" + +"I? A long time. This is the twenty-third year that they +persecute me." + +"Persecute you? How?" + +"As they persecuted Christ, so they persecute me. They seize me, +and take me before the courts and before the priests, the Scribes +and the Pharisees. Once they put me into a madhouse; but they can +do nothing because I am free. They say, 'What is your name?' +thinking I shall name myself. But I do not give myself a name. I +have given up everything: I have no name, no place, no country, +nor anything. I am just myself. 'What is your name?' 'Man.' 'How +old are you?' I say, 'I do not count my years and cannot count +them, because I always was, I always shall be.' 'Who are your +parents?' 'I have no parents except God and Mother Earth. God is +my father.' 'And the Tsar? Do you recognise the Tsar?' they say. +I say, 'Why not? He is his own Tsar, and I am my own Tsar.' +'Where's the good of talking to him,' they say, and I say, 'I do +not ask you to talk to me.' And so they begin tormenting me." + +"And where are you going now?" asked Nekhludoff. + +"Where God will lead me. I work when I can find work, and when I +can't I beg." The old man noticed that the raft was approaching +the bank and stopped, looking round at the bystanders with a look +of triumph. + +Nekhludoff got out his purse and offered some money to the old +man, but he refused, saying: + +"I do not accept this sort of thing--bread I do accept." + +"Well, then, excuse me." + +"There is nothing to excuse, you have not offended me. And it is +not possible to offend me." And the old man put the wallet he had +taken off again on his back. Meanwhile, the post-cart had been +landed and the horses harnessed. + +"I wonder you should care to talk to him, sir," said the driver, +when Nekhludoff, having tipped the bowing ferryman, got into the +cart again. "He is just a worthless tramp." + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +NEKHLUDOFF SEES THE GENERAL. + +When they got to the top of the hill bank the driver turned to +Nekhludoff. + +"Which hotel am I to drive to?" + +"Which is the best?" + +"Nothing could be better than the Siberian, but Dukeoff's is also +good." + +"Drive to whichever you like." + +The driver again seated himself sideways and drove faster. The +town was like all such towns. The same kind of houses with attic +windows and green roofs, the same kind of cathedral, the same +kind of shops and stores in the principal street, and even the +same kind of policemen. Only the houses were almost all of them +wooden, and the streets were not paved. In one of the chief +streets the driver stopped at the door of an hotel, but there was +no room to be had, so he drove to another. And here Nekhludoff, +after two months, found himself once again in surroundings such +as he had been accustomed to as far as comfort and cleanliness +went. Though the room he was shown to was simple enough, yet +Nekhludoff felt greatly relieved to be there after two months of +post-carts, country inns and halting stations. His first business +was to clean himself of the lice which he had never been able to +get thoroughly rid of after visiting a halting station. When he +had unpacked he went to the Russian bath, after which he made +himself fit to be seen in a town, put on a starched shirt, +trousers that had got rather creased along the seams, a +frock-coat and an overcoat, and drove to the Governor of the +district. The hotel-keeper called an isvostchik, whose well-fed +Kirghiz horse and vibrating trap soon brought Nekhludoff to the +large porch of a big building, in front of which stood sentinels +and a policeman. The house had a garden in front, and at the +back, among the naked branches of aspen and birch trees, there +grew thick and dark green pines and firs. The General was not +well, and did not receive; but Nekhludoff asked the footman to +hand in his card all the same, and the footman came back with a +favourable reply. + +"You are asked to come in." + +The hall, the footman, the orderly, the staircase, the +dancing-room, with its well-polished floor, were very much the +same as in Petersburg, only more imposing and rather dirtier. +Nekhludoff was shown into the cabinet. + +The General, a bloated, potato-nosed man, with a sanguine +disposition, large bumps on his forehead, bald head, and puffs +under his eyes, sat wrapped in a Tartar silk dressing-gown +smoking a cigarette and sipping his tea out of a tumbler in a +silver holder. + +"How do you do, sir? Excuse my dressing-gown; it is better so +than if I had not received you at all," he said, pulling up his +dressing-gown over his fat neck with its deep folds at the nape. +"I am not quite well, and do not go out. What has brought you to +our remote region?" + +"I am accompanying a gang of prisoners, among whom there is a +person closely connected with me, said Nekhludoff, and now I have +come to see your Excellency partly in behalf of this person, and +partly about another business." The General took a whiff and a +sip of tea, put his cigarette into a malachite ashpan, with his +narrow eyes fixed on Nekhludoff, listening seriously. He only +interrupted him once to offer him a cigarette. + +The General belonged to the learned type of military men who +believed that liberal and humane views can be reconciled with +their profession. But being by nature a kind and intelligent man, +he soon felt the impossibility of such a reconciliation; so as +not to feel the inner discord in which he was living, he gave +himself up more and more to the habit of drinking, which is so +widely spread among military men, and was now suffering from what +doctors term alcoholism. He was imbued with alcohol, and if he +drank any kind of liquor it made him tipsy. Yet strong drink was +an absolute necessity to him, he could not live without it, so he +was quite drunk every evening; but had grown so used to this +state that he did not reel nor talk any special nonsense. And if +he did talk nonsense, it was accepted as words of wisdom because +of the important and high position which he occupied. Only in +the morning, just at the time Nekhludoff came to see him, he was +like a reasonable being, could understand what was said to him, +and fulfil more or less aptly a proverb he was fond of repeating: +"He's tipsy, but he's wise, so he's pleasant in two ways." + +The higher authorities knew he was a drunkard, but he was more +educated than the rest, though his education had stopped at the +spot where drunkenness had got hold of him. He was bold, adroit, +of imposing appearance, and showed tact even when tipsy; +therefore, he was appointed, and was allowed to retain so public +and responsible an office. + +Nekhludoff told him that the person he was interested in was a +woman, that she was sentenced, though innocent, and that a +petition had been sent to the Emperor in her behalf. + +"Yes, well?" said the General. + +"I was promised in Petersburg that the news concerning her fate +should be sent to me not later than this month and to this +place-" + +The General stretched his hand with its stumpy fingers towards +the table, and rang a bell, still looking at Nekhludoff and +puffing at his cigarette. + +"So I would like to ask you that this woman should be allowed to +remain here until the answer to her petition comes." + +The footman, an orderly in uniform, came in. + +"Ask if Anna Vasilievna is up," said the General to the orderly, +"and bring some more tea." Then, turning to Nekhludoff, "Yes, and +what else?" + +"My other request concerns a political prisoner who is with the +same gang." + +"Dear me," said the General, with a significant shake of the +head. + +"He is seriously ill--dying, and he will probably be left here in +the hospital, so one of the women prisoners would like to stay +behind with him." + +"She is no relation of his?" + +"No, but she is willing to marry him if that will enable her to +remain with him." + +The General looked fixedly with twinkling eyes at his +interlocutor, and, evidently with a wish to discomfit him, +listened, smoking in silence. + +When Nekhludoff had finished, the General took a book off the +table, and, wetting his finger, quickly turned over the pages and +found the statute relating to marriage. + +"What is she sentenced to?" he asked, looking up from the book. + +"She? To hard labour." + +"Well, then, the position of one sentenced to that cannot be +bettered by marriage." + +"Yes, but--" + +"Excuse me. Even if a free man should marry her, she would have +to serve her term. The question in such cases is, whose is the +heavier punishment, hers or his?" + +"They are both sentenced to hard labour." + +"Very well; so they are quits," said the General, with a laugh. +"She's got what he has, only as he is sick he may be left behind, +and of course what can be done to lighten his fate shall be done. +But as for her, even if she did marry him, she could not remain +behind." + +"The Generaless is having her coffee," the footman announced. + +The General nodded and continued: + +"However, I shall think about it. What are their names? Put them +down here." + +Nekhludoff wrote down the names. + +Nekhludoff's request to be allowed to see the dying man the +General answered by saying, "Neither can I do that. Of course I +do not suspect you, but you take an interest in him and in the +others, and you have money, and here with us anything can be done +with money. I have been told to put down bribery. But how can I +put down bribery when everybody takes bribes? And the lower their +rank the more ready they are to be bribed. How can one find it +out across more than three thousand miles? There any official is +a little Tsar, just as I am here," and he laughed. "You have in +all likelihood been to see the political prisoners; you gave +money and got permission to see them," he said, with a smile. +"Is it not so?" + +"Yes, it is." + +"I quite understand that you had to do it. You pity a political +prisoner and wish to see him. And the inspector or the convoy +soldier accepts, because he has a salary of twice twenty copecks +and a family, and he can't help accepting it. In his place and +yours I should have acted in the same way as you and he did. But +in my position I do not permit myself to swerve an inch from the +letter of the law, just because I am a man, and might be +influenced by pity. But I am a member of the executive, and I +have been placed in a position of trust on certain conditions, +and these conditions I must carry out. Well, so this business is +finished. And now let us hear what is going on in the +metropolis." And the General began questioning with the evident +desire to hear the news and to show how very human he was. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +THE SENTENCE COMMUTED. + +"By-the-way, where are you staying?" asked the General as he was +taking leave of Nekhludoff. "At Duke's? Well, it's horrid enough +there. Come and dine with us at five o'clock. You speak English?" + +"Yes, I do." + +"That's good. You see, an English traveller has just arrived +here. He is studying the question of transportation and examining +the prisons of Siberia. Well, he is dining with us to-night, and +you come and meet him. We dine at five, and my wife expects +punctuality. Then I shall also give you an answer what to do +about that woman, and perhaps it may be possible to leave some +one behind with the sick prisoner." + +Having made his bow to the General, Nekhludoff drove to the +post-office, feeling himself in an extremely animated and +energetic frame of mind. + +The post-office was a low-vaulted room. Several officials sat +behind a counter serving the people, of whom there was quite a +crowd. One official sat with his head bent to one side and kept +stamping the envelopes, which he slipped dexterously under the +stamp. Nekhludoff had not long to wait. As soon as he had given +his name, everything that had come for him by post was at once +handed to him. There was a good deal: letters, and money, and +books, and the last number of Fatherland Notes. Nekhludoff took +all these things to a wooden bench, on which a soldier with a +book in his hand sat waiting for something, took the seat by his +side, and began sorting the letters. Among them was one +registered letter in a fine envelope, with a distinctly stamped +bright red seal. He broke the seal, and seeing a letter from +Selenin and some official paper inside the envelope, he felt the +blood rush to his face, and his heart stood still. It was the +answer to Katusha's petition. What would that answer be? +Nekhludoff glanced hurriedly through the letter, written in an +illegibly small, hard, and cramped hand, and breathed a sigh of +relief. The answer was a favourable one. + +"Dear friend," wrote Selenin, "our last talk has made a profound +impression on me. You were right concerning Maslova. I looked +carefully through the case, and see that shocking injustice has +been done her. It could be remedied only by the Committee of +Petitions before which you laid it. I managed to assist at the +examination of the case, and I enclose herewith the copy of the +mitigation of the sentence. Your aunt, the Countess Katerina +Ivanovna, gave me the address which I am sending this to. The +original document has been sent to the place where she was +imprisoned before her trial, and will from there he probably sent +at once to the principal Government office in Siberia. I hasten +to communicate this glad news to you and warmly press your hand. + + "Yours, + + "SELENIN." + +The document ran thus: "His Majesty's office for the reception of +petitions, addressed to his Imperial name"--here followed the +date----"by order of the chief of his Majesty's office for the +reception of petitions addressed to his Imperial name. The +meschanka Katerina Maslova is hereby informed that his Imperial +Majesty, with reference to her most loyal petition, condescending +to her request, deigns to order that her sentence to hard labour +should be commuted to one of exile to the less distant districts +of Siberia." + +This was joyful and important news; all that Nekhludoff could +have hoped for Katusha, and for himself also, had happened. It +was true that the new position she was in brought new +complications with it. While she was a convict, marriage with her +could only be fictitious, and would have had no meaning except +that he would have been in a position to alleviate her condition. +And now there was nothing to prevent their living together, and +Nekhludoff had not prepared himself for that. And, besides, what +of her relations to Simonson? What was the meaning of her words +yesterday? If she consented to a union with Simonson, would it be +well? He could not unravel all these questions, and gave up +thinking about it. "It will all clear itself up later on," he +thought; "I must not think about it now, but convey the glad news +to her as soon as possible, and set her free." He thought that the +copy of the document he had received would suffice, so when he +left the post-office he told the isvostchik to drive him to the +prison. + +Though he had received no order from the governor to visit the +prison that morning, he knew by experience that it was easy to +get from the subordinates what the higher officials would not +grant, so now he meant to try and get into the prison to bring +Katusha the joyful news, and perhaps to get her set free, and at +the same time to inquire about Kryltzoff's state of health, and +tell him and Mary Pavlovna what the general had said. The prison +inspector was a tall, imposing-looking man, with moustaches and +whiskers that twisted towards the corners of his mouth. He +received Nekhludoff very gravely, and told him plainly that he +could not grant an outsider the permission to interview the +prisoners without a special order from his chief. To Nekhludoff's +remark that he had been allowed to visit the prisoners even in +the cities he answered: + +"That may be so, but I do not allow it," and his tone implied, +"You city gentlemen may think to surprise and perplex us, but we +in Eastern Siberia also know what the law is, and may even teach +it you." The copy of a document straight from the Emperor's own +office did not have any effect on the prison inspector either. He +decidedly refused to let Nekhludoff come inside the prison walls. +He only smiled contemptuously at Nekhludoff's naive conclusion, +that the copy he had received would suffice to set Maslova free, +and declared that a direct order from his own superiors would be +needed before any one could be set at liberty. The only things he +agreed to do were to communicate to Maslova that a mitigation had +arrived for her, and to promise that he would not detain her an +hour after the order from his chief to liberate her would arrive. +He would also give no news of Kryltzoff, saying he could not even +tell if there was such a prisoner; and so Nekhludoff, having +accomplished next to nothing, got into his trap and drove back to +his hotel. + +The strictness of the inspector was chiefly due to the fact that +an epidemic of typhus had broken out in the prison, owing to +twice the number of persons that it was intended for being +crowded in it. The isvostchik who drove Nekhludoff said, "Quite +a lot of people are dying in the prison every day, some kind of +disease having sprung up among them, so that as many as twenty +were buried in one day." + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +THE GENERAL'S HOUSEHOLD. + +In spite of his ineffectual attempt at the prison, Nekhludoff, +still in the same vigorous, energetic frame of mind, went to the +Governor's office to see if the original of the document had +arrived for Maslova. It had not arrived, so Nekhludoff went back +to the hotel and wrote without delay to Selenin and the advocate +about it. When he had finished writing he looked at his watch and +saw it was time to go to the General's dinner party. + +On the way he again began wondering how Katusha would receive the +news of the mitigation of her sentence. Where she would be +settled? How he should live with her? What about Simonson? What +would his relations to her be? He remembered the change that had +taken place in her, and this reminded him of her past. "I must +forget it for the present," he thought, and again hastened to +drive her out of his mind. "When the time comes I shall see," he +said to himself, and began to think of what he ought to say to +the General. + +The dinner at the General's, with the luxury habitual to the +lives of the wealthy and those of high rank, to which Nekhludoff +had been accustomed, was extremely enjoyable after he had been so +long deprived not only of luxury but even of the most ordinary +comforts. The mistress of the house was a Petersburg grande dame +of the old school, a maid of honour at the court of Nicholas I., +who spoke French quite naturally and Russian very unnaturally. +She held herself very erect and, moving her hands, she kept her +elbows close to her waist. She was quietly and, somewhat sadly +considerate for her husband, and extremely kind to all her +visitors, though with a tinge of difference in her behaviour +according to their position. She received Nekhludoff as if he +were one of them, and her fine, almost imperceptible flattery +made him once again aware of his virtues and gave him a feeling +of satisfaction. She made him feel that she knew of that honest +though rather singular step of his which had brought him to +Siberia, and held him to be an exceptional man. This refined +flattery and the elegance and luxury of the General's house had +the effect of making Nekhludoff succumb to the enjoyment of the +handsome surroundings, the delicate dishes and the ease and +pleasure of intercourse with educated people of his own class, so +that the surroundings in the midst of which he had lived for the +last months seemed a dream from which he had awakened to reality. +Besides those of the household, the General's daughter and her +husband and an aide-de-camp, there were an Englishman, a merchant +interested in gold mines, and the governor of a distant Siberian +town. All these people seemed pleasant to Nekhludoff. The +Englishman, a healthy man with a rosy complexion, who spoke very +bad French, but whose command of his own language was very good +and oratorically impressive, who had seen a great deal, was very +interesting to listen to when he spoke about America, India, +Japan and Siberia. + +The young merchant interested in the gold mines, the son of a +peasant, whose evening dress was made in London, who had diamond +studs to his shirt, possessed a fine library, contributed freely +to philanthropic work, and held liberal European views, seemed +pleasant to Nekhludoff as a sample of a quite new and good type +of civilised European culture, grafted on a healthy, uncultivated +peasant stem. + +The governor of the distant Siberian town was that same man who +had been so much talked about in Petersburg at the time +Nekhludoff was there. He was plump, with thin, curly hair, soft +blue eyes, carefully-tended white hands, with rings on the +fingers, a pleasant smile, and very big in the lower part of his +body. The master of the house valued this governor because of all +the officials he was the only one who would not be bribed. The +mistress of the house, who was very fond of music and a very good +pianist herself, valued him because he was a good musician and +played duets with her. + +Nekhludoff was in such good humour that even this man was not +unpleasant to him, in spite of what he knew of his vices. The +bright, energetic aide-de-camp, with his bluey grey chin, who was +continually offering his services, pleased Nekhludoff by his good +nature. But it was the charming young couple, the General's +daughter and her husband, who pleased Nekhludoff best. The +daughter was a plain-looking, simple-minded young woman, wholly +absorbed in her two children. Her husband, whom she had fallen in +love with and married after a long struggle with her parents, was +a Liberal, who had taken honours at the Moscow University, a +modest and intellectual young man in Government service, who made +up statistics and studied chiefly the foreign tribes, which he +liked and tried to save from dying out. + +All of them were not only kind and attentive to Nekhludoff, but +evidently pleased to see him, as a new and interesting +acquaintance. The General, who came in to dinner in uniform and +with a white cross round his neck, greeted Nekhludoff as a +friend, and asked the visitors to the side table to take a glass +of vodka and something to whet their appetites. The General asked +Nekhludoff what he had been doing since he left that morning, and +Nekhludoff told him he had been to the post-office and received +the news of the mitigation of that person's sentence that he had +spoken of in the morning, and again asked for a permission to +visit the prison. + +The General, apparently displeased that business should be +mentioned at dinner, frowned and said nothing. + +"Have a glass of vodka," he said, addressing the Englishman, who +had just come up to the table. The Englishman drank a glass, and +said he had been to see the cathedral and the factory, but would +like to visit the great transportation prison. + +"Oh, that will just fit in," said the General to Nekhludoff. +"You will be able to go together. Give them a pass," he added, +turning to his aide-de-camp. + +"When would you like to go?" Nekhludoff asked. + +"I prefer visiting the prisons in the evening," the Englishman +answered. "All are indoors and there is no preparation; you find +them all as they are." + +"Ah, he would like to see it in all its glory! Let him do so. I +have written about it and no attention has been paid to it. Let +him find out from foreign publications," the General said, and +went up to the dinner table, where the mistress of the house was +showing the visitors their places. Nekhludoff sat between his +hostess and the Englishman. In front of him sat the General's +daughter and the ex-director of the Government department in +Petersburg. The conversation at dinner was carried on by fits and +starts, now it was India that the Englishman talked about, now +the Tonkin expedition that the General strongly disapproved of, +now the universal bribery and corruption in Siberia. All these +topics did not interest Nekhludoff much. + +But after dinner, over their coffee, Nekhludoff and the +Englishman began a very interesting conversation about Gladstone, +and Nekhludoff thought he had said many clever things which were +noticed by his interlocutor. And Nekhludoff felt it more and more +pleasant to be sipping his coffee seated in an easy-chair among +amiable, well-bred people. And when at the Englishman's request +the hostess went up to the piano with the ex-director of the +Government department, and they began to play in well-practised +style Beethoven's fifth symphony, Nekhludoff fell into a mental +state of perfect self-satisfaction to which he had long been a +stranger, as though he had only just found out what a good fellow +he was. + +The grand piano was a splendid instrument, the symphony was well +performed. At least, so it seemed to Nekhludoff, who knew and +liked that symphony. Listening to the beautiful andante, he felt +a tickling in his nose, he was so touched by his many virtues. + +Nekhludoff thanked his hostess for the enjoyment that he had been +deprived of for so long, and was about to say goodbye and go when +the daughter of the house came up to him with a determined look +and said, with a blush, "You asked about my children. Would you +like to see them?" + +"She thinks that everybody wants to see her children," said her +mother, smiling at her daughter's winning tactlessness. "The +Prince is not at all interested." + +"On the contrary, I am very much interested," said Nekhludoff, +touched by this overflowing, happy mother-love. "Please let me +see them." + +"She's taking the Prince to see her babies," the General shouted, +laughing from the card-table, where he sat with his son-in-law, +the mine owner and the aide-de-camp. "Go, go, pay your tribute." + +The young woman, visibly excited by the thought that judgment was +about to be passed on her children, went quickly towards the +inner apartments, followed by Nekhludoff. In the third, a lofty +room, papered with white and lit up by a shaded lamp, stood two +small cots, and a nurse with a white cape on her shoulders sat +between the cots. She had a kindly, true Siberian face, with its +high cheek-bones. + +The nurse rose and bowed. The mother stooped over the first cot, +in which a two-year-old little girl lay peacefully sleeping with +her little mouth open and her long, curly hair tumbled over the +pillow. + +"This is Katie," said the mother, straightening the white and +blue crochet coverlet, from under which a little white foot +pushed itself languidly out. + +"Is she not pretty? She's only two years old, you know." + +"Lovely." + +"And this is Vasiuk, as 'grandpapa' calls him. Quite a different +type. A Siberian, is he not?" + +"A splendid boy," said Nekhludoff, as he looked at the little +fatty lying asleep on his stomach. + +"Yes," said the mother, with a smile full of meaning. + +Nekhludoff recalled to his mind chains, shaved heads, fighting +debauchery, the dying Kryltzoff, Katusha and the whole of her +past, and he began to feel envious and to wish for what he saw +here, which now seemed to him pure and refined happiness. + +After having repeatedly expressed his admiration of the children, +thereby at least partially satisfying their mother, who eagerly +drank in this praise, he followed her back to the drawing-room, +where the Englishman was waiting for him to go and visit the +prison, as they had arranged. Having taken leave of their hosts, +the old and the young ones, the Englishman and Nekhludoff went +out into the porch of the General's house. + +The weather had changed. It was snowing, and the snow fell +densely in large flakes, and already covered the road, the roof +and the trees in the garden, the steps of the porch, the roof of +the trap and the back of the horse. + +The Englishman had a trap of his own, and Nekhludoff, having told +the coachman to drive to the prison, called his isvostchik and +got in with the heavy sense of having to fulfil an unpleasant +duty, and followed the Englishman over the soft snow, through +which the wheels turned with difficulty. + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +MASLOVA'S DECISION. + +The dismal prison house, with its sentinel and lamp burning under +the gateway, produced an even more dismal impression, with its +long row of lighted windows, than it had done in the morning, in +spite of the white covering that now lay over everything--the +porch, the roof and the walls. + +The imposing inspector came up to the gate and read the pass that +had been given to Nekhludoff and the Englishman by the light of +the lamp, shrugged his fine shoulders in surprise, but, in +obedience to the order, asked the visitors to follow him in. He +led them through the courtyard and then in at a door to the right +and up a staircase into the office. He offered them a seat and +asked what he could do for them, and when he heard that +Nekhludoff would like to see Maslova at once, he sent a jailer to +fetch her. Then he prepared himself to answer the questions which +the Englishman began to put to him, Nekhludoff acting as +interpreter. + +"How many persons is the prison built to hold?" the Englishman +asked. "How many are confined in it? How many men? How many +women? Children? How many sentenced to the mines? How many +exiles? How many sick persons?" + +Nekhludoff translated the Englishman's and the inspector's words +without paying any attention to their meaning, and felt an +awkwardness he had not in the least expected at the thought of +the impending interview. When, in the midst of a sentence he was +translating for the Englishman, he heard the sound of approaching +footsteps, and the office door opened, and, as had happened many +times before, a jailer came in, followed by Katusha, and he saw +her with a kerchief tied round her head, and in a prison jacket a +heavy sensation came over him. "I wish to live, I want a family, +children, I want a human life." These thoughts flashed through +his mind as she entered the room with rapid steps and blinking +her eyes. + +He rose and made a few steps to meet her, and her face appeared +hard and unpleasant to him. It was again as it had been at the +time when she reproached him. She flushed and turned pale, her +fingers nervously twisting a corner of her jacket. She looked up +at him, then cast down her eyes. + +"You know that a mitigation has come?" + +"Yes, the jailer told me." + +"So that as soon as the original document arrives you may come +away and settle where you like. We shall consider--" + +She interrupted him hurriedly. "What have I to consider? Where +Valdemar Simonson goes, there I shall follow." In spite of the +excitement she was in she raised her eyes to Nekhludoff's and +pronounced these words quickly and distinctly, as if she had +prepared what she had to say. + +"Indeed!" + +"Well, Dmitri Ivanovitch, you see he wishes me to live with +him--" and she stopped, quite frightened, and corrected herself. +"He wishes me to be near him. What more can I desire? I must look +upon it as happiness. What else is there for me--" + +"One of two things," thought he. "Either she loves Simonson and +does not in the least require the sacrifice I imagined I was +bringing her, or she still loves me and refuses me for my own +sake, and is burning her ships by uniting her fate with +Simonson." And Nekhludoff felt ashamed and knew that he was +blushing. + +"And you yourself, do you love him?" he asked. + +"Loving or not loving, what does it matter? I have given up all +that. And then Valdemar Simonson is quite an exceptional man." + +"Yes, of course," Nekhludoff began. "He is a splendid man, and I +think--" + +But she again interrupted him, as if afraid that he might say too +much or that she should not say all. "No, Dmitri Ivanovitch, you +must forgive me if I am not doing what you wish," and she looked +at him with those unfathomable, squinting eyes of hers. "Yes, it +evidently must be so. You must live, too." + +She said just what he had been telling himself a few moments +before, but he no longer thought so now and felt very +differently. He was not only ashamed, but felt sorry to lose all +he was losing with her. "I did not expect this," he said. + +"Why should you live here and suffer? You have suffered enough." + +"I have not suffered. It was good for me, and I should like to go +on serving you if I could." + +"We do not want anything," she said, and looked at him. + +"You have done so much for me as it is. If it had not been for +you--" She wished to say more, but her voice trembled. + +"You certainly have no reason to thank me," Nekhludoff said. + +"Where is the use of our reckoning? God will make up our +accounts," she said, and her black eyes began to glisten with the +tears that filled them. + +"What a good woman you are," he said. + +"I good?" she said through her tears, and a pathetic smile lit up +her face. + +"Are you ready?" the Englishman asked. + +"Directly," replied Nekhludoff and asked her about Kryltzoff. + +She got over her emotion and quietly told him all she knew. +Kryltzoff was very weak and had been sent into the infirmary. +Mary Pavlovna was very anxious, and had asked to be allowed to go +to the infirmary as a nurse, but could not get the permission. + +"Am I to go?" she asked, noticing that the Englishman was +waiting. + +"I will not say good-bye; I shall see you again," said +Nekhludoff, holding out his hand. + +"Forgive me," she said so low that he could hardly hear her. +Their eyes met, and Nekhludoff knew by the strange look of her +squinting eyes and the pathetic smile with which she said not +"Good-bye" but "Forgive me," that of the two reasons that might +have led to her resolution, the second was the real one. She +loved him, and thought that by uniting herself to him she would +be spoiling his life. By going with Simonson she thought she +would be setting Nekhludoff free, and felt glad that she had done +what she meant to do, and yet she suffered at parting from him. + +She pressed his hand, turned quickly and left the room. + +Nekhludoff was ready to go, but saw that the Englishman was +noting something down, and did not disturb him, but sat down on a +wooden seat by the wall, and suddenly a feeling of terrible +weariness came over him. It was not a sleepless night that had +tired him, not the journey, not the excitement, but he felt +terribly tired of living. He leaned against the back of the +bench, shut his eyes and in a moment fell into a deep, heavy +sleep. + +"Well, would you like to look round the cells now?" the inspector +asked. + +Nekhludoff looked up and was surprised to find himself where he +was. The Englishman had finished his notes and expressed a wish +to see the cells. + +Nekhludoff, tired and indifferent, followed him. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +THE ENGLISH VISITOR. + +When they had passed the anteroom and the sickening, stinking +corridor, the Englishman and Nekhludoff, accompanied by the +inspector, entered the first cell, where those sentenced to hard +labour were confined. The beds took up the middle of the cell and +the prisoners were all in bed. There were about 70 of them. When +the visitors entered all the prisoners jumped up and stood beside +the beds, excepting two, a young man who was in a state of high +fever, and an old man who did nothing but groan. + +The Englishman asked if the young man had long been ill. The +inspector said that he was taken ill in the morning, but that the +old man had long been suffering with pains in the stomach, but +could not be removed, as the infirmary had been overfilled for a +long time. The Englishman shook his head disapprovingly, said he +would like to say a few words to these people, asking Nekhludoff +to interpret. It turned out that besides studying the places of +exile and the prisons of Siberia, the Englishman had another +object in view, that of preaching salvation through faith and by +the redemption. + +"Tell them," he said, "that Christ died for them. If they believe +in this they shall be saved." While he spoke, all the prisoners +stood silent with their arms at their sides. "This book, tell +them," he continued, "says all about it. Can any of them read?" + +There were more than 20 who could. + +The Englishman took several bound Testaments out of a hang-bag, +and many strong hands with their hard, black nails stretched out +from beneath the coarse shirt-sleeves towards him. He gave away +two Testaments in this cell. + +The same thing happened in the second cell. There was the same +foul air, the same icon hanging between the windows, the same tub +to the left of the door, and they were all lying side by side +close to one another, and jumped up in the same manner and stood +stretched full length with their arms by their sides, all but +three, two of whom sat up and one remained lying, and did not +even look at the newcomers; these three were also ill. The +Englishman made the same speech and again gave away two books. + +In the third room four were ill. When the Englishman asked why +the sick were not put all together into one cell, the inspector +said that they did not wish it themselves, that their diseases +were not infectious, and that the medical assistant watched them +and attended to them. + +"He has not set foot here for a fortnight," muttered a voice. + +The inspector did not say anything and led the way to the next +cell. Again the door was unlocked, and all got up and stood +silent. Again the Englishman gave away Testaments. It was the +same in the fifth and sixth cells, in those to the right and +those to the left. + +From those sentenced to hard labour they went on to the exiles. + +From the exiles to those evicted by the Commune and those who +followed of their own free will. + +Everywhere men, cold, hungry, idle, infected, degraded, +imprisoned, were shown off like wild beasts. + +The Englishman, having given away the appointed number of +Testaments, stopped giving any more, and made no speeches. The +oppressing sight, and especially the stifling atmosphere, quelled +even his energy, and he went from cell to cell, saying nothing +but "All right" to the inspector's remarks about what prisoners +there were in each cell. + +Nekhludoff followed as in a dream, unable either to refuse to go +on or to go away, and with the same feelings of weariness and +hopelessness. + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +KRYLTZOFF AT REST. + +In one of the exiles' cells Nekhludoff, to his surprise, +recognised the strange old man he had seen crossing the ferry +that morning. This old man was sitting on the floor by the beds, +barefooted, with only a dirty cinder-coloured shirt on, torn on +one shoulder, and similar trousers. He looked severely and +enquiringly at the newcomers. His emaciated body, visible through +the holes of his shirt, looked miserably weak, but in his face +was even more concentrated seriousness and animation than when +Nekhludoff saw him crossing the ferry. As in all the other cells, +so here also the prisoners jumped up and stood erect when the +official entered, but the old man remained sitting. His eyes +glittered and his brows frowned with wrath. + +"Get up," the inspector called out to him. + +The old man did not rise and only smiled contemptuously. + +"Thy servants are standing before thee. I am not thy servant. +Thou bearest the seal--" The old man pointed to the inspector's +forehead. + +"Wha-a-t?" said the inspector threateningly, and made a step +towards him. + +"I know this man," Nekhludoff hastened to say; "what is he +imprisoned for?" + +"The police have sent him here because he has no passport. We ask +them not to send such, but they will do it," said the inspector, +casting an angry side look at the old man. + +"And so it seems thou, too, art one of Antichrist's army?" the +old man said to Nekhludoff. + +"No, I am a visitor," said Nekhludoff. + +"What, hast thou come to see how Antichrist tortures men? There, +look, he has locked them up in a cage, a whole army of them. Men +should eat bread in the sweat of their brow. And he has locked +them up with no work to do, and feeds them like swine, so that +they should turn into beasts." + +"What is he saying?" asked the Englishman. + +Nekhludoff told him the old man was blaming the inspector for +keeping men imprisoned. + +"Ask him how he thinks one should treat those who do not keep to +the laws," said the Englishman. + +Nekhludoff translated the question. The old man laughed in a +strange manner, showing his teeth. + +"The laws?" he repeated with contempt. "He first robbed +everybody, took all the earth, all the rights away from men, +killed all those who were against him, and then wrote laws, +forbidding robbery and murder. He should have written these laws +before." + +Nekhludoff translated. The Englishman smiled. "Well, anyhow, ask +him how one should treat thieves and murderers at present?" + +Nekhludoff again translated his question. + +"Tell him he should take the seal of Antichrist off himself," the +old man said, frowning severely; "then there will be no thieves +and murderers. Tell him so." + +"He is crazy," said the Englishman, when Nekhludoff had +translated the old man's words, and, shrugging his shoulders, he +left the cell. + +"Do thy business and leave them alone. Every one for himself. God +knows whom to execute, whom to forgive, and we do not know," said +the old man. "Every man be his own chief, then the chiefs will +not be wanted. Go, go!" he added, angrily frowning and looking +with glittering eyes at Nekhludoff, who lingered in the cell. +"Hast thou not looked on long enough how the servants of +Antichrist feed lice on men? Go, go!" + +When Nekhludoff went out he saw the Englishman standing by the +open door of an empty cell with the inspector, asking what the +cell was for. The inspector explained that it was the mortuary. + +"Oh," said the Englishman when Nekhludoff had translated, and +expressed the wish to go in. + +The mortuary was an ordinary cell, not very large. A small lamp +hung on the wall and dimly lit up sacks and logs of wood that +were piled up in one corner, and four dead bodies lay on the +bedshelves to the right. The first body had a coarse linen shirt +and trousers on; it was that of a tall man with a small beard and +half his head shaved. The body was quite rigid; the bluish hands, +that had evidently been folded on the breast, had separated; the +legs were also apart and the bare feet were sticking out. Next to +him lay a bare-footed old woman in a white petticoat, her head, +with its thin plait of hair, uncovered, with a little, pinched +yellow face and a sharp nose. Beyond her was another man with +something lilac on. This colour reminded Nekhludoff of something. +He came nearer and looked at the body. The small, pointed beard +sticking upwards, the firm, well-shaped nose, the high, white +forehead, the thin, curly hair; he recognised the familiar +features and could hardly believe his eyes. Yesterday he had seen +this face, angry, excited, and full of suffering; now it was +quiet, motionless, and terribly beautiful. Yes, it was Kryltzoff, +or at any rate the trace that his material existence had left +behind. "Why had he suffered? Why had he lived? Does he now +understand?" Nekhludoff thought, and there seemed to be no +answer, seemed to be nothing but death, and he felt faint. +Without taking leave of the Englishman, Nekhludoff asked the +inspector to lead him out into the yard, and feeling the absolute +necessity of being alone to think over all that had happened that +evening, he drove back to his hotel. + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +A NEW LIFE DAWNS FOR NEKHLUDOFF. + +Nekhludoff did not go to bed, but went up and down his room for a +long time. His business with Katusha was at an end. He was not +wanted, and this made him sad and ashamed. His other business was +not only unfinished, but troubled him more than ever and demanded +his activity. All this horrible evil that he had seen and learned +to know lately, and especially to-day in that awful prison, this +evil, which had killed that dear Kryltzoff, ruled and was +triumphant, and he could foreseen possibility of conquering or +even knowing how to conquer it. Those hundreds and thousands of +degraded human beings locked up in the noisome prisons by +indifferent generals, procureurs, inspectors, rose up in his +imagination; he remembered the strange, free old man accusing the +officials, and therefore considered mad, and among the corpses +the beautiful, waxen face of Kryltzoff, who had died in anger. +And again the question as to whether he was mad or those who +considered they were in their right minds while they committed +all these deeds stood before him with renewed force and demanded +an answer. + +Tired of pacing up and down, tired of thinking, he sat down on +the sofa near the lamp and mechanically opened the Testament +which the Englishman had given him as a remembrance, and which he +had thrown on the table when he emptied his pockets on coming in. + +"It is said one can find an answer to everything here," he +thought, and opened the Testament at random and began reading +Matt. xviii. 1-4: "In that hour came the disciples unto Jesus, +saying, Who then is greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven? And He +called to Him a little child, and set him in the midst of them, +and said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye turn and become as +little children, ye shall in nowise enter into the Kingdom of +Heaven. Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little +child the same is the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven." + +"Yes, yes, that is true," he said, remembering that he had known +the peace and joy of life only when he had humbled himself. + +"And whosoever shall receive one such little child in My name +receiveth Me, but whoso shall cause one of these little ones to +stumble, it is more profitable for him that a great millstone +should be hanged about his neck and that he should be sunk in the +depths of the sea." (Matt. xviii. 5, 6.) + +"What is this for, 'Whosoever shall receive?' Receive where? And +what does 'in my name' mean?" he asked, feeling that these words +did not tell him anything. "And why 'the millstone round his neck +and the depths of the sea?' No, that is not it: it is not clear," +and he remembered how more than once in his life he had taken to +reading the Gospels, and how want of clearness in these passages +had repulsed him. He went on to read the seventh, eighth, ninth, +and tenth verses about the occasions of stumbling, and that they +must come, and about punishment by casting men into hell fire, +and some kind of angels who see the face of the Father in Heaven. +"What a pity that this is so incoherent," he thought, "yet one +feels that there is something good in it." + +"For the Son of Man came to save that which was lost," he +continued to read. + +"How think ye? If any man have a hundred sheep and one of them go +astray, doth he not leave the ninety and nine and go into the +mountains and seek that which goeth astray? And if so be that he +find it, verily I say unto you, he rejoiceth over it more than +over the ninety and nine which have not gone astray. + +"Even so it is not the will of your Father which is in Heaven +that one of these little ones should perish." + +"Yes, it is not the will of the Father that they should perish, +and here they are perishing by hundreds and thousands. And there +is no possibility of saving them," he thought. + +"Then came Peter and said to him, How oft shall my brother offend +me and I forgive him? Until seven times? Jesus saith unto him, I +say not unto thee until seven times, but until seventy times +seven. + +"Therefore is the Kingdom of Heaven likened unto a certain king +which made a reckoning with his servants. And when he had begun +to reckon, one was brought unto him which owed him ten thousand +talents. But forasmuch as he had not wherewith to pay, his lord +commanded him to be sold, and his wife and children, and all that +he had, and payment to be made. The servant therefore fell down +and worshipped him, saying, Lord, have patience with me; I will +pay thee all. And the lord of that servant, being moved with +compassion, released him and forgave him the debt. But that +servant went out, and found one of his fellow-servants which owed +him a hundred pence; and he laid hold on him and took him by the +throat, saying, Pay what thou owest. So his fellow-servant fell +down and besought him, saying, Have patience with me and I will +pay thee. And he would not, but went and cast him into prison +till he should pay that which was due. So when his +fellow-servants saw what was done, they were exceeding sorry, and +came and told unto their lord all that was done. Then his lord +called him unto him and saith to him, Thou wicked servant, I +forgave thee all that debt because thou besought me; shouldst not +thou also have mercy on thy fellow-servant as I had mercy on +thee?" + +"And is this all?" Nekhludoff suddenly exclaimed aloud, and the +inner voice of the whole of his being said, "Yes, it is all." And +it happened to Nekhludoff, as it often happens to men who are +living a spiritual life. The thought that seemed strange at first +and paradoxical or even to be only a joke, being confirmed more +and more often by life's experience, suddenly appeared as the +simplest, truest certainty. In this way the idea that the only +certain means of salvation from the terrible evil from which men +were suffering was that they should always acknowledge themselves +to be sinning against God, and therefore unable to punish or +correct others, because they were dear to Him. It became clear to +him that all the dreadful evil he had been witnessing in prisons +and jails and the quiet self-satisfaction of the perpetrators of +this evil were the consequences of men trying to do what was +impossible; trying to correct evil while being evil themselves; +vicious men were trying to correct other vicious men, and thought +they could do it by using mechanical means, and the only +consequence of all this was that the needs and the cupidity of +some men induced them to take up this so-called punishment and +correction as a profession, and have themselves become utterly +corrupt, and go on unceasingly depraving those whom they torment. +Now he saw clearly what all the terrors he had seen came from, +and what ought to be done to put a stop to them. The answer he +could not find was the same that Christ gave to Peter. It was +that we should forgive always an infinite number of times because +there are no men who have not sinned themselves, and therefore +none can punish or correct others. + +"But surely it cannot be so simple," thought Nekhludoff, and yet +he saw with certainty, strange as it had seemed at first, that it +was not only a theoretical but also a practical solution of the +question. The usual objection, "What is one to do with the evil +doers? Surely not let them go unpunished?" no longer confused +him. This objection might have a meaning if it were proved that +punishment lessened crime, or improved the criminal, but when the +contrary was proved, and it was evident that it was not in +people's power to correct each other, the only reasonable thing +to do is to leave off doing the things which are not only +useless, but harmful, immoral and cruel. + +For many centuries people who were considered criminals have been +tortured. Well, and have they ceased to exist? No; their numbers +have been increased not alone by the criminals corrupted by +punishment but also by those lawful criminals, the judges, +procureurs, magistrates and jailers, who judge and punish men. +Nekhludoff now understood that society and order in general +exists not because of these lawful criminals who judge and punish +others, but because in spite of men being thus depraved, they +still pity and love one another. + +In hopes of finding a confirmation of this thought in the Gospel, +Nekhludoff began reading it from the beginning. When he had read +the Sermon on the Mount, which had always touched him, he saw in +it for the first time to-day not beautiful abstract thoughts, +setting forth for the most part exaggerated and impossible +demands, but simple, clear, practical laws. If these laws were +carried out in practice (and this was quite possible) they would +establish perfectly new and surprising conditions of social life, +in which the violence that filled Nekhludoff with such +indignation would cease of itself. Not only this, but the +greatest blessing that is obtainable to men, the Kingdom of +Heaven on Earth would be established. There were five of these +laws. + +The first (Matt. v. 21-26), that man should not only do no +murder, but not even be angry with his brother, should not +consider any one worthless: "Raca," and if he has quarrelled with +any one he should make it up with him before bringing his gift to +God--i.e., before praying. + +The second (Matt. v. 27-32), that man should not only not commit +adultery but should not even seek for enjoyment in a woman's +beauty, and if he has once come together with a woman he should +never be faithless to her. + +The third (Matt. 33-37), that man should never bind himself by +oath. + +The fourth (Matt. 38-42), that man should not only not demand an +eye for an eye, but when struck on one cheek should hold out the +other, should forgive an offence and bear it humbly, and never +refuse the service others demand of him. + +The fifth (Matt. 43-48), that man should not only not hate his +enemy and not fight him, but love him, help him, serve him. + +Nekhludoff sat staring at the lamp and his heart stood still. +Recalling the monstrous confusion of the life we lead, he +distinctly saw what that life could be if men were brought up to +obey these rules, and rapture such as he had long not felt filled +his soul, just as if after long days of weariness and suffering +he had suddenly found ease and freedom. + +He did not sleep all night, and as it happens to many and many a +man who reads the Gospels he understood for the first time the +full meaning of the words read so often before but passed by +unnoticed. He imbibed all these necessary, important and joyful +revelations as a sponge imbibes water. And all he read seemed so +familiar and seemed to confirm, to form into a conception, what +he had known long ago, but had never realised and never quite +believed. Now he realised and believed it, and not only realised +and believed that if men would obey these laws they would obtain +the highest blessing they can attain to, he also realised and +believed that the only duty of every man is to fulfil these laws; +that in this lies the only reasonable meaning of life, that every +stepping aside from these laws is a mistake which is immediately +followed by retribution. This flowed from the whole of the +teaching, and was most strongly and clearly illustrated in the +parable of the vineyard. + +The husbandman imagined that the vineyard in which they were sent +to work for their master was their own, that all that was in was +made for them, and that their business was to enjoy life in this +vineyard, forgetting the Master and killing all those who +reminded them of his existence. "Are we not doing the same," +Nekhludoff thought, "when we imagine ourselves to be masters of +our lives, and that life is given us for enjoyment? This +evidently is an incongruity. We were sent here by some one's will +and for some reason. And we have concluded that we live only for +our own joy, and of course we feel unhappy as labourers do when +not fulfilling their Master's orders. The Master's will is +expressed in these commandments. If men will only fulfil these +laws, the Kingdom of Heaven will be established on earth, and men +will receive the greatest good that they can attain to. + +"'Seek ye first the Kingdom and His righteousness, and all these +things shall be added unto you.' + +"And so here it is, the business of my life. Scarcely have I +finished one and another has commenced." And a perfectly new life +dawned that night for Nekhludoff, not because he had entered into +new conditions of life, but because everything he did after that +night had a new and quite different significance than before. How +this new period of his life will end time alone will prove. + + + + + + + + +[Transcriber's Note: Corrected "Are we do not doing the same," +to "Are we not doing the same," in third last paragraph.] + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Resurrection, by Leo Tolstoy + +--2008-09-02 13:09:39-- http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext99/resur10.txt +Resolving www.gutenberg.org... 152.46.7.81 +Connecting to www.gutenberg.org|152.46.7.81|:80... connected. +HTTP request sent, awaiting response... 200 OK +Length: 1005656 (982K) [text/plain] +Saving to: `resur10.txt' + + 0K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 5% 146K 6s + 50K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 10% 577K 4s + 100K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 15% 610K 3s + 150K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 20% 921K 2s + 200K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 25% 1.32M 2s + 250K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 30% 612K 2s + 300K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 35% 903K 1s + 350K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 40% 1.36M 1s + 400K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 45% 614K 1s + 450K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 50% 887K 1s + 500K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 56% 608K 1s + 550K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 61% 1.42M 1s + 600K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 66% 614K 1s + 650K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 71% 865K 0s + 700K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 76% 1.42M 0s + 750K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 81% 578K 0s + 800K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 86% 946K 0s + 850K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 91% 1.22M 0s + 900K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 96% 981K 0s + 950K .......... .......... .......... .. 100% 879K=1.5s + +2008-09-02 13:09:40 (668 KB/s) - `resur10.txt' saved [1005656/1005656] + +Project Gutenberg's Stories by Foreign Authors: Russian, by Various + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. 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TOLSTOI + + +NEW YORK +1898 + + + +CONTENTS + +MUMU...................Ivan Turgenev +THE SHOT...............Alexander Poushkin +ST. JOHN'S EVE.........Nikolai Vasilievitch Gogol +AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE... Lyof N. Tolstoi + + + + +MUMU + +BY + +IVAN TURGENEV + +From "Torrents of Spring." Translated by Constance Garnett. + + +In one of the outlying streets of Moscow, in a gray house with white +columns and a balcony, warped all askew, there was once living a lady, a +widow, surrounded by a numerous household of serfs. Her sons were in the +government service at Petersburg; her daughters were married; she went +out very little, and in solitude lived through the last years of her +miserly and dreary old age. Her day, a joyless and gloomy day, had long +been over; but the evening of her life was blacker than night. + +Of all her servants, the most remarkable personage was the porter, +Gerasim, a man full twelve inches over the normal height, of heroic +build, and deaf and dumb from his birth. The lady, his owner, had +brought him up from the village where he lived alone in a little hut, +apart from his brothers, and was reckoned about the most punctual of her +peasants in the payment of the seignorial dues. Endowed with +extraordinary strength, he did the work of four men; work flew apace +under his hands, and it was a pleasant sight to see him when he was +ploughing, while, with his huge palms pressing hard upon the plough, he +seemed alone, unaided by his poor horse, to cleave the yielding bosom of +the earth, or when, about St. Peter's Day, he plied his scythe with a +furious energy that might have mown a young birch copse up by the roots, +or swiftly and untiringly wielded a flail over two yards long; while the +hard oblong muscles of his shoulders rose and fell like a lever. His +perpetual silence lent a solemn dignity to his unwearying labor. He was +a splendid peasant, and, except for his affliction, any girl would have +been glad to marry him. . . But now they had taken Gerasim to Moscow, +bought him boots, had him made a full-skirted coat for summer, a +sheepskin for winter, put into his hand a broom and a spade, and +appointed him porter. + +At first he intensely disliked his new mode of life. From his childhood +he had been used to field labor, to village life. Shut off by his +affliction from the society of men, he had grown up, dumb and mighty, as +a tree grows on a fruitful soil. When he was transported to the town, he +could not understand what was being done with him; he was miserable and +stupefied, with the stupefaction of some strong young bull, taken +straight from the meadow, where the rich grass stood up to his belly, +taken and put in the truck of a railway train, and there, while smoke +and sparks and gusts of steam puff out upon the sturdy beast, he is +whirled onwards, whirled along with loud roar and whistle, whither--God +knows! What Gerasim had to do in his new duties seemed a mere trifle to +him after his hard toil as a peasant; in half an hour all his work was +done, and he would once more stand stock-still in the middle of the +courtyard, staring open-mouthed at all the passers-by, as though trying +to wrest from them the explanation of his perplexing position; or he +would suddenly go off into some corner, and flinging a long way off the +broom or the spade, throw himself on his face on the ground, and lie for +hours together without stirring, like a caged beast. But man gets used +to anything, and Gerasim got used at last to living in town. He had +little work to do; his whole duty consisted in keeping the courtyard +clean, bringing in a barrel of water twice a day, splitting and dragging +in wood for the kitchen and the house, keeping out strangers, and +watching at night. And it must be said he did his duty zealously. In his +courtyard there was never a shaving lying about, never a speck of dust; +if sometimes, in the muddy season, the wretched nag, put under his +charge for fetching water, got stuck in the road, he would simply give +it a shove with his shoulder, and set not only the cart but the horse +itself moving. If he set to chopping wood, the axe fairly rang like +glass, and chips and chunks flew in all directions. And as for +strangers, after he had one night caught two thieves and knocked their +heads together--knocked them so that there was not the slightest need to +take them to the police-station afterwards--every one in the +neighborhood began to feel a great respect for him; even those who came +in the daytime, by no means robbers, but simply unknown persons, at the +sight of the terrible porter, waved and shouted to him as though he +could hear their shouts. With all the rest of the servants, Gerasim was +on terms hardly friendly--they were afraid of him--but familiar; he +regarded them as his fellows. They explained themselves to him by signs, +and he understood them, and exactly carried out all orders, but knew his +own rights too, and soon no one dared to take his seat at the table. +Gerasim was altogether of a strict and serious temper, he liked order in +everything; even the cocks did not dare to fight in his presence, or woe +betide them! Directly he caught sight of them, he would seize them by +the legs, swing them ten times round in the air like a wheel, and throw +them in different directions. There were geese, too, kept in the yard; +but the goose, as is well known, is a dignified and reasonable bird: +Gerasim felt a respect for them, looked after them, and fed them; he was +himself not unlike a gander of the steppes. He was assigned a little +garret over the kitchen; he arranged it himself to his own liking, made +a bedstead in it of oak boards on four stumps of wood for legs--a truly +Titanic bedstead; one might have put a ton or two on it--it would not +have bent under the load; under the bed was a solid chest; in a corner +stood a little table of the same strong kind, and near the table a +three-legged stool, so solid and squat that Gerasim himself would +sometimes pick it up and drop it again with a smile of delight. The +garret was locked up by means of a padlock that looked like a kalatch or +basket-shaped loaf, only black; the key of this padlock Gerasim always +carried about him in his girdle. He did not like people to come to his +garret. + +So passed a year, at the end of which a little incident befell Gerasim. + +The old lady, in whose service he lived as porter, adhered in everything +to the ancient ways, and kept a large number of servants. In her house +were not only laundresses, sempstresses, carpenters, tailors and +tailoresses, there was even a harness-maker--he was reckoned as a +veterinary surgeon, too,--and a doctor for the servants; there was a +household doctor for the mistress; there was, lastly, a shoemaker, by +name Kapiton Klimov, a sad drunkard. Klimov regarded himself as an +injured creature, whose merits were unappreciated, a cultivated man from +Petersburg, who ought not to be living in Moscow without occupation--in +the wilds, so to speak; and if he drank, as he himself expressed it +emphatically, with a blow on his chest, it was sorrow drove him to it. +So one day his mistress had a conversation about him with her head +steward, Gavrila, a man whom, judging solely from his little yellow eyes +and nose like a duck's beak, fate itself, it seemed, had marked out as a +person in authority. The lady expressed her regret at the corruption of +the morals of Kapiton, who had, only the evening before, been picked up +somewhere in the street. + +"Now, Gavrila," she observed, all of a sudden, "now, if we were to marry +him, what do you think, perhaps he would be steadier?" + +"Why not marry him, indeed, 'm? He could be married, 'm," answered +Gavrila, "and it would be a very good thing, to be sure, 'm." + +"Yes; only who is to marry him?" + +"Ay, 'm. But that's at your pleasure, 'm. He may, any way, so to say, be +wanted for something; he can't be turned adrift altogether." + +"I fancy he likes Tatiana." + +Gavrila was on the point of making some reply, but he shut his lips +tightly. + +"Yes! . . . let him marry Tatiana," the lady decided, taking a pinch of +snuff complacently, "Do you hear?" + +"Yes, 'm," Gavrila articulated, and he withdrew. + +Returning to his own room (it was in a little lodge, and was almost +filled up with metal-bound trunks), Gavrila first sent his wife away, +and then sat down at the window and pondered. His mistress's unexpected +arrangement had clearly put him in a difficulty. At last he got up and +sent to call Kapiton. Kapiton made his appearance. . . But before +reporting their conversation to the reader, we consider it not out of +place to relate in few words who was this Tatiana, whom it was to be +Kapiton's lot to marry, and why the great lady's order had disturbed the +steward. + +Tatiana, one of the laundresses referred to above (as a trained and +skilful laundress she was in charge of the fine linen only), was a woman +of twenty-eight, thin, fair-haired, with moles on her left cheek. Moles +on the left cheek are regarded as of evil omen in Russia--a token of +unhappy life. . . Tatiana could not boast of her good luck. From her +earliest youth she had been badly treated; she had done the work of two, +and had never known affection; she had been poorly clothed and had +received the smallest wages. Relations she had practically none; an +uncle she had once had, a butler, left behind in the country as useless, +and other uncles of hers were peasants--that was all. At one time she +had passed for a beauty, but her good looks were very soon over. In +disposition, she was very meek, or, rather, scared; towards herself, she +felt perfect indifference; of others, she stood in mortal dread; she +thought of nothing but how to get her work done in good time, never +talked to any one, and trembled at the very name of her mistress, though +the latter scarcely knew her by sight. When Gerasim was brought from the +country, she was ready to die with fear on seeing his huge figure, tried +all she could to avoid meeting him, even dropped her eyelids when +sometimes she chanced to run past him, hurrying from the house to the +laundry. Gerasim at first paid no special attention to her, then he used +to smile when she came his way, then he began even to stare admiringly +at her, and at last he never took his eyes off her. She took his fancy, +whether by the mild expression of her face or the timidity of her +movements, who can tell? So one day she was stealing across the yard, +with a starched dressing-jacket of her mistress's carefully poised on her +outspread fingers . . . some one suddenly grasped her vigorously by the +elbow; she turned round and fairly screamed; behind her stood Gerasim. +With a foolish smile, making inarticulate caressing grunts, he held out +to her a gingerbread cock with gold tinsel on his tail and wings. She +was about to refuse it, but he thrust it forcibly into her hand, shook +his head, walked away, and turning round, once more grunted something +very affectionately to her. + +From that day forward he gave her no peace; wherever she went, he was on +the spot at once, coming to meet her, smiling, grunting, waving his +hands; all at once he would pull a ribbon out of the bosom of his smock +and put it in her hand, or would sweep the dust out of her way. The poor +girl simply did not know how to behave or what to do. Soon the whole +household knew of the dumb porter's wiles; jeers, jokes, sly hints, were +showered upon Tatiana. At Gerasim, however, it was not every one who +would dare to scoff; he did not like jokes; indeed, in his presence, +she, too, was left in peace. Whether she liked it or not, the girl found +herself to be under his protection. Like all deaf-mutes, he was very +suspicious, and very readily perceived when they were laughing at him or +at her. One day, at dinner, the wardrobe-keeper, Tatiana's superior, +fell to nagging, as it is called, at her, and brought the poor thing to +such a state that she did not know where to look, and was almost crying +with vexation. Gerasim got up all of a sudden, stretched out his +gigantic hand, laid it on the wardrobe-maid's head, and looked into her +face with such grim ferocity that her head positively flopped upon the +table. Every one was still. Gerasim took up his spoon again and went on +with his cabbage-soup. "Look at him, the dumb devil, the wood-demon!" +they all muttered in undertones, while the wardrobe-maid got up and went +out into the maid's room. Another time, noticing that Kapiton--the same +Kapiton who was the subject of the conversation reported above--was +gossiping somewhat too attentively with Tatiana, Gerasim beckoned him to +him, led him into the cartshed, and taking up a shaft that was standing +in a corner by one end, lightly, but most significantly, menaced him +with it. Since then no one addressed a word to Tatiana. And all this +cost him nothing. It is true the wardrobe-maid, as soon as she reached +the maids' room, promptly fell into a fainting fit, and behaved +altogether so skilfully that Gerasim's rough action reached his +mistress's knowledge the same day. But the capricious old lady only +laughed, and several times, to the great offence of the wardrobe-maid, +forced her to repeat "how he bent your head down with his heavy hand," +and next day she sent Gerasim a rouble. She looked on him with favor as +a strong and faithful watchman. Gerasim stood in considerable awe of +her, but, all the same, he had hopes of her favor, and was preparing to +go to her with a petition for leave to marry Tatiana. He was only +waiting for a new coat, promised him by the steward, to present a proper +appearance before his mistress, when this same mistress suddenly took it +into her head to marry Tatiana to Kapiton. + +The reader will now readily understand the perturbation of mind that +overtook the steward Gavrila after his conversation with his mistress. +"My lady," he thought, as he sat at the window, "favors Gerasim, to be +sure"--(Gavrila was well aware of this, and that was why he himself +looked on him with an indulgent eye)--"still he is a speechless +creature. I could not, indeed, put it before the mistress that Gerasim's +courting Tatiana. But, after all, it's true enough; he's a queer sort of +husband. But on the other hand, that devil, God forgive me, has only got +to find out they're marrying Tatiana to Kapiton, he'll smash up +everything in the house, 'pon my soul! There's no reasoning with him; +why, he's such a devil, God forgive my sins, there's no getting over him +nohow . . . 'pon my soul!" + +Kapiton's entrance broke the thread of Gavrila's reflections. The +dissipated shoemaker came in, his hands behind him, and lounging +carelessly against a projecting angle of the wall, near the door, +crossed his right foot in front of his left, and tossed his head, as +much as to say, "What do you want?" + +Gavrila looked at Kapiton, and drummed with his fingers on the window- +frame. Kapiton merely screwed up his leaden eyes a little, but he did +not look down; he even grinned slightly, and passed his hand over his +whitish locks which were sticking up in all directions. "Well, here I +am. What is it?" + +"You're a pretty fellow," said Gavrila, and paused. "A pretty fellow you +are, there's no denying!" + +Kapiton only twitched his little shoulders. "Are you any better, pray?" +he thought to himself. + +"Just look at yourself, now, look at yourself," Gavrila went on +reproachfully; "now, whatever do you look like?" + +Kapiton serenely surveyed his shabby, tattered coat and his patched +trousers, and with special attention stared at his burst boots, +especially the one on the tiptoe of which his right foot so gracefully +poised, and he fixed his eyes again on the steward. + +"Well?" + +"Well?" repeated Gavrila. "Well? And then you say well? You look like +Old Nick himself, God forgive my saying so, that's what you look like." + +Kapiton blinked rapidly. + +"Go on abusing me, go on, if you like, Gavrila Andreitch," he thought to +himself again. + +"Here you've been drunk again," Gavrila began, "drunk again, haven't +you? Eh? Come, answer me!" + +"Owing to the weakness of my health, I have exposed myself to spirituous +beverages, certainly," replied Kapiton. + +"Owing to the weakness of your health! . . . They let you off too easy, +that's what it is; and you've been apprenticed in Petersburg. . . Much you +learned in your apprenticeship! You simply eat your bread in idleness." + +"In that matter, Gavrila Andreitch, there is One to judge me, the Lord +God Himself, and no one else. He also knows what manner of man I be in +this world, and whether I eat my bread in idleness. And as concerning +your contention regarding drunkenness, in that matter, too, I am not to +blame, but rather a friend; he led me into temptation, but was +diplomatic and got away, while I . . ." + +"While you were left like a goose, in the street. Ah, you're a dissolute +fellow! But that's not the point," the steward went on, "I've something +to tell you. Our lady . . ." here he paused a minute, "it's our lady's +pleasure that you should be married. Do you hear? She imagines you may +be steadier when you're married. Do you understand?" + +"To be sure I do." + +"Well, then. For my part I think it would be better to give you a good +hiding. But there--it's her business. Well? are you agreeable?" + +Kapiton grinned. + +"Matrimony is an excellent thing for any one, Gavrila Andreitch; and, as +far as I am concerned, I shall be quite agreeable." + +"Very well, then," replied Gavrila, while he reflected to himself: +"There's no denying the man expresses himself very properly. Only +there's one thing," he pursued aloud: "the wife our lady's picked out +for you is an unlucky choice." + +"Why, who is she, permit me to inquire?" + +"Tatiana." + +"Tatiana?" + +And Kapiton opened his eyes, and moved a little away from the wall. + +"Well, what are you in such a taking for? . . . Isn't she to your taste, +hey?" + +"Not to my taste, do you say, Gavrila Andreitch? She's right enough, a +hard-working steady girl. . . But you know very well yourself, Gavrila +Andreitch, why that fellow, that wild man of the woods, that monster of +the steppes, he's after her, you know. . ." + +"I know, mate, I know all about it," the butler cut him short in a tone +of annoyance: "but there, you see . . ." + +"But upon my soul, Gavrila Andreitch! why, he'll kill me, by God, he +will, he'll crush me like some fly; why, he's got a fist--why, you +kindly look yourself what a fist he's got; why, he's simply got a fist +like Minin Pozharsky's. You see he's deaf, he beats and does not hear +how he's beating! He swings his great fists, as if he's asleep. And +there's no possibility of pacifying him; and for why? Why, because, as +you know yourself, Gavrila Andreitch, he's deaf, and what's more, has no +more wit than the heel of my foot. Why, he's a sort of beast, a heathen +idol, Gavrila Andreitch, and worse . . . a block of wood; what have I done +that I should have to suffer from him now? Sure it is, it's all over me +now; I've knocked about, I've had enough to put up with, I've been +battered like an earthenware pot, but still I'm a man, after all, and +not a worthless pot." + +"I know, I know, don't go talking away. . ." + +"Lord, my God!" the shoemaker continued warmly, "when is the end? when, +O Lord! A poor wretch I am, a poor wretch whose sufferings are endless! +What a life, what a life mine's been come to think of it! In my young +days, I was beaten by a German I was 'prentice to; in the prime of life +beaten by my own countrymen, and last of all, in ripe years, see what I +have been brought to. . ." + +"Ugh, you flabby soul!" said Gavrila Andreitch. "Why do you make so many +words about it?" + +"Why, do you say, Gavrila Andreitch? It's not a beating I'm afraid of, +Gavrila Andreitch. A gentleman may chastise me in private, but give me a +civil word before folks, and I'm a man still; but see now, whom I've to +do with . . ." + +"Come, get along," Gavrila interposed impatiently. Kapiton turned away +and staggered off. + +"But, if it were not for him," the steward shouted after him, "you would +consent for your part?" + +"I signify my acquiescence," retorted Kapiton as he disappeared. + +His fine language did not desert him, even in the most trying positions. + +The steward walked several times up and down the room. + +"Well, call Tatiana now," he said at last. + +A few instants later, Tatiana had come up almost noiselessly, and was +standing in the doorway. + +"What are your orders, Gavrila Andreitch?" she said in a soft voice. + +The steward looked at her intently. + +"Well, Taniusha," he said, "would you like to be married? Our lady has +chosen a husband for you?" + +"Yes, Gavrila Andreitch. And whom has she deigned to name as a husband +for me?" she added falteringly. + +"Kapiton, the shoemaker." + +"Yes, sir." + +"He's a feather-brained fellow, that's certain. But it's just for that +the mistress reckons upon you." + +"Yes, sir." + +"There's one difficulty . . . you know the deaf man, Gerasim, he's courting +you, you see. How did you come to bewitch such a bear? But you see, +he'll kill you, very like, he's such a bear . . ." + +"He'll kill me, Gavrila Andreitch, he'll kill me, and no mistake." + +"Kill you . . . Well we shall see about that. What do you mean by saying +he'll kill you? Has he any right to kill you? tell me yourself." + +"I don't know, Gavrila Andreitch, about his having any right or not." + +"What a woman! why, you've made him no promise, I suppose . . ." + +"What are you pleased to ask of me?" + +The steward was silent for a little, thinking, "You're a meek soul! +Well, that's right," he said aloud; "we'll have another talk with you +later, now you can go, Taniusha; I see you're not unruly, certainly." + +Tatiana turned, steadied herself a little against the doorpost, and went +away. + +"And, perhaps, our lady will forget all about this wedding by to- +morrow," thought the steward; "and here am I worrying myself for +nothing! As for that insolent fellow, we must tie him down if it comes +to that, we must let the police know . . . Ustinya Fyedorovna!" he shouted +in a loud voice to his wife, "heat the samovar, my good soul . . ." All +that day Tatiana hardly went out of the laundry. At first she had +started crying, then she wiped away her tears, and set to work as +before. Kapiton stayed till late at night at the gin-shop with a friend +of his, a man of gloomy appearance, to whom he related in detail how he +used to live in Petersburg with a gentleman, who would have been all +right, except he was a bit too strict, and he had a slight weakness +besides, he was too fond of drink; and, as to the fair sex, he didn't +stick at anything. His gloomy companion merely said yes; but when +Kapiton announced at last that, in a certain event, he would have to lay +hands on himself to-morrow, his gloomy companion remarked that it was +bedtime. And they parted in surly silence. + +Meanwhile, the steward's anticipations were not fulfilled. The old lady +was so much taken up with the idea of Kapiton's wedding, that even in +the night she talked of nothing else to one of her companions, who was +kept in her house solely to entertain her in case of sleeplessness, and, +like a night cabman, slept in the day. When Gavrila came to her after +morning tea with his report, her first question was: "And how about our +wedding--is it getting on all right?" He replied, of course, that it was +getting on first-rate, and that Kapiton would appear before her to pay +his reverence to her that day. The old lady was not quite well; she did +not give much time to business. The steward went back to his own room, +and called a council. The matter certainly called for serious +consideration. Tatiana would make no difficulty, of course; but Kapiton +had declared in the hearing of all that he had but one head to lose, not +two or three. . . Gerasim turned rapid sullen looks on every one, would +not budge from the steps of the maids' quarters, and seemed to guess +that some mischief was being hatched against him. They met together. +Among them was an old sideboard waiter, nicknamed Uncle Tail, to whom +every one looked respectfully for counsel, though all they got out of +him was, "Here's a pretty pass! to be sure, to be sure, to be sure!" As +a preliminary measure of security, to provide against contingencies, +they locked Kapiton up in the lumber-room where the filter was kept; +then considered the question with the gravest deliberation. It would, to +be sure, be easy to have recourse to force. But Heaven save us! There +would be an uproar, the mistress would be put out--it would be awful! +What should they do? They thought and thought, and at last thought out a +solution. It had many a time been observed that Gerasim could not bear +drunkards. . . . As he sat at the gates, he would always turn away with +disgust when some one passed by intoxicated, with unsteady steps and his +cap on one side of his ear. They resolved that Tatiana should be +instructed to pretend to be tipsy, and should pass by Gerasim staggering +and reeling about. The poor girl refused for a long while to agree to +this, but they persuaded her at last; she saw, too, that it was the only +possible way of getting rid of her adorer. She went out. Kapiton was +released from the lumber-room; for, after all, he had an interest in the +affair. Gerasim was sitting on the curbstone at the gates, scraping the +ground with a spade. . . . From behind every corner, from behind every +window-blind, the others were watching him. . . . The trick succeeded +beyond all expectations. On seeing Tatiana, at first, he nodded as usual, +making caressing, inarticulate sounds; then he looked carefully at her, +dropped his spade, jumped up, went up to her, brought his face close to +her face. . . . In her fright she staggered more than ever, and shut her +eyes. . . . He took her by the arm, whirled her right across the yard, and +going into the room where the council had been sitting, pushed her +straight at Kapiton. Tatiana fairly swooned away. . . . Gerasim stood, +looked at her, waved his hand, laughed, and went off, stepping heavily, +to his garret. . . . For the next twenty-four hours he did not come out of +it. The postilion Antipka said afterwards that he saw Gerasim through a +crack in the wall, sitting on his bedstead, his face in his hand. From +time to time he uttered soft regular sounds; he was wailing a dirge, +that is, swaying backwards and forwards with his eyes shut, and shaking +his head as drivers or bargemen do when they chant their melancholy +songs. Antipka could not bear it, and he came away from the crack. When +Gerasim came out of the garret next day, no particular change could be +observed in him. He only seemed, as it were, more morose, and took not +the slightest notice of Tatiana or Kapiton. The same evening, they both +had to appear before their mistress with geese under their arms, and in +a week's time they were married. Even on the day of the wedding Gerasim +showed no change of any sort in his behavior. Only, he came back from +the river without water, he had somehow broken the barrel on the road; +and at night, in the stable, he washed and rubbed down his horse so +vigorously, it swayed like a blade of grass in the wind, and staggered +from one leg to the other under his fists of iron. + +All this had taken place in the spring. Another year passed by, during +which Kapiton became a hopeless drunkard, and as being absolutely of no +use for anything, was sent away with the store wagons to a distant +village with his wife. On the day of his departure, he put a very good +face on it at first, and declared that he would always be at home, send +him where they would, even to the other end of the world; but later on +he lost heart, began grumbling that he was being taken to uneducated +people, and collapsed so completely at last that he could not even put +his own hat on. Some charitable soul stuck it on his forehead, set the +peak straight in front, and thrust it on with a slap from above. When +everything was quite ready, and the peasants already held the reins in +their hands, and were only waiting for the words "With God's blessing!" +to start, Gerasim came out of his garret, went up to Tatiana, and gave +her as a parting present a red cotton handkerchief he had bought for her +a year ago. Tatiana, who had up to that instant borne all the revolting +details of her life with great indifference, could not control herself +upon that; she burst into tears, and as she took her seat in the cart, +she kissed Gerasim three times like a good Christian. He meant to +accompany her as far as the town-barrier, and did walk beside her cart +for a while, but he stopped suddenly at the Crimean ford, waved his +hand, and walked away along the riverside. + +It was getting towards evening. He walked slowly, watching the water. +All of a sudden he fancied something was floundering in the mud close to +the bank. He stooped over, and saw a little white-and-black puppy, who, +in spite of all its efforts, could not get out of the water; it was +struggling, slipping back, and trembling all over its thin wet little +body. Gerasim looked at the unlucky little dog, picked it up with one +hand, put it into the bosom of his coat, and hurried with long steps +homewards. He went into his garret, put the rescued puppy on his bed, +covered it with his thick overcoat, ran first to the stable for straw, +and then to the kitchen for a cup of milk. Carefully folding back the +overcoat, and spreading out the straw, he set the milk on the bedstead. +The poor little puppy was not more than three weeks old, its eyes were +just open--one eye still seemed rather larger than the other; it did not +know how to lap out of a cup, and did nothing but shiver and blink. +Gerasim took hold of its head softly with two fingers, and dipped its +little nose into the milk. The pup suddenly began lapping greedily, +sniffing, shaking itself, and choking. Gerasim watched and watched it, +and all at once he laughed outright. . . . All night long he was waiting +on it, keeping it covered, and rubbing it dry. He fell asleep himself at +last, and slept quietly and happily by its side. + +No mother could have looked after her baby as Gerasim looked after his +little nursling. At first she--for the pup turned out to be a bitch--was +very weak, feeble, and ugly, but by degrees she grew stronger and +improved in looks, and, thanks to the unflagging care of her preserver, +in eight months' time she was transformed into a very pretty dog of the +spaniel breed, with long ears, a bushy spiral tail, and large, +expressive eyes. She was devotedly attached to Gerasim, and was never a +yard from his side; she always followed him about wagging her tail. He +had even given her a name--the dumb know that their inarticulate noises +call the attention of others. He called her Mumu. All the servants in +the house liked her, and called her Mumu, too. She was very intelligent, +she was friendly with every one, but was only fond of Gerasim. Gerasim, +on his side, loved her passionately, and he did not like it when other +people stroked her; whether he was afraid for her, or jealous--God +knows! She used to wake him in the morning, pulling at his coat; she +used to take the reins in her mouth, and bring him up the old horse that +carried the water, with whom she was on very friendly terms. With a face +of great importance, she used to go with him to the river; she used to +watch his brooms and spades, and never allowed any one to go into his +garret. He cut a little hole in his door on purpose for her, and she +seemed to feel that only in Gerasim's garret she was completely mistress +and at home; and directly she went in, she used to jump with a satisfied +air upon the bed. At night she did not sleep at all, but she never +barked without sufficient cause, like some stupid house-dog, who, +sitting on its hind-legs, blinking, with its nose in the air, barks +simply from dullness, at the stars, usually three times in succession. +No! Mumu's delicate little voice was never raised without good reason; +either some stranger was passing close to the fence, or there was some +suspicious sound or rustle somewhere. . . . In fact, she was an excellent +watch-dog. It is true that there was another dog in the yard, a tawny +old dog with brown spots, called Wolf, but he was never, even at night, +let off the chain; and, indeed, he was so decrepit that he did not even +wish for freedom. He used to lie curled up in his kennel, and only +rarely uttered a sleepy, almost noiseless bark, which broke off at once, +as though he were himself aware of its uselessness. Mumu never went into +the mistress's house; and when Gerasim carried wood into the rooms, she +always stayed behind, impatiently waiting for him at the steps, pricking +up her ears and turning her head to right and to left at the slightest +creak of the door . . . + +So passed another year. Gerasim went on performing his duties as house- +porter, and was very well content with his lot, when suddenly an +unexpected incident occurred. . . . One fine summer day the old lady was +walking up and down the drawing-room with her dependants. She was in +high spirits; she laughed and made jokes. Her servile companions laughed +and joked too, but they did not feel particularly mirthful; the +household did not much like it, when their mistress was in a lively +mood, for, to begin with, she expected from every one prompt and +complete participation in her merriment, and was furious if any one +showed a face that did not beam with delight; and secondly, these +outbursts never lasted long with her, and were usually followed by a +sour and gloomy mood. That day she had got up in a lucky hour; at cards +she took the four knaves, which means the fulfilment of one's wishes +(she used to try her fortune on the cards every morning), and her tea +struck her as particularly delicious, for which her maid was rewarded by +words of praise, and by twopence in money. With a sweet smile on her +wrinkled lips, the lady walked about the drawing-room and went up to the +window. A flower-garden had been laid out before the window, and in the +very middle bed, under a rosebush, lay Mumu busily gnawing a bone. The +lady caught sight of her. + +"Mercy on us!" she cried suddenly; "what dog is that?" + +The companion, addressed by the old lady, hesitated, poor thing, in that +wretched state of uneasiness which is common in any person in a +dependent position who doesn't know very well what significance to give +to the exclamation of a superior. + +"I d . . . d . . . don't know," she faltered; "I fancy it's the dumb man's +dog." + +"Mercy!" the lady cut her short; "but it's a charming little dog! order +it to be brought in. Has he had it long? How is it I've never seen it +before? . . . Order it to be brought in." + +The companion flew at once into the hall. + +"Boy, boy!" she shouted; "bring Mumu in at once! She's in the flower- +garden." + +"Her name's Mumu then," observed the lady; "a very nice name." + +"Oh, very, indeed!" chimed in the companion. "Make haste, Stepan!" + +Stepan, a sturdy-built young fellow, whose duties were those of a +footman, rushed headlong into the flower-garden, and tried to capture +Mumu, but she cleverly slipped from his fingers, and with her tail in +the air, fled full speed to Gerasim, who was at that instant in the +kitchen, knocking out and cleaning a barrel, turning it upside down in +his hands like a child's drum. Stepan ran after her, and tried to catch +her just at her master's feet; but the sensible dog would not let a +stranger touch her, and with a bound, she got away. Gerasim looked on +with a smile at all this ado; at last, Stepan got up, much amazed, and +hurriedly explained to him by signs that the mistress wanted the dog +brought in to her. Gerasim was a little astonished; he called Mumu, +however, picked her up, and handed her over to Stepan. Stepan carried +her into the drawing-room, and put her down on the parquette floor. The +old lady began calling the dog to her in a coaxing voice. Mumu, who had +never in her life been in such magnificent apartments, was very much +frightened, and made a rush for the door, but, being driven back by the +obsequious Stepan, she began trembling, and huddled close up against the +wall. + +"Mumu, Mumu, come to me, come to your mistress," said the lady; "come, +silly thing . . . don't be afraid." + +"Come, Mumu, come to the mistress," repeated the companions. "Come +along!" + +But Mumu looked round her uneasily, and did not stir. + +"Bring her something to eat," said the old lady. "How stupid she is! she +won't come to her mistress. What's she afraid of?" + +"She's not used to your honor yet," ventured one of the companions in a +timid and conciliatory voice. + +Stepan brought in a saucer of milk, and set it down before Mumu, but +Mumu would not even sniff at the milk, and still shivered, and looked +round as before. + +"Ah, what a silly you are!" said the lady, and going up to her, she +stooped down, and was about to stroke her, but Mumu turned her head +abruptly, and showed her teeth. The lady hurriedly drew back her +hand. . . . + +A momentary silence followed. Mumu gave a faint whine, as though she +would complain and apologize. . . . The old lady moved back, scowling. +The dog's sudden movement had frightened her. + +"Ah!" shrieked all the companions at once, "she's not bitten you, has +she? Heaven forbid! (Mumu had never bitten any one in her life.) Ah! +ah!" + +"Take her away," said the old lady in a changed voice. "Wretched little +dog! What a spiteful creature!" + +And, turning round deliberately, she went towards her boudoir. Her +companions looked timidly at one another, and were about to follow her, +but she stopped, stared coldly at them, and said, "What's that for, +pray? I've not called you," and went out. + +The companions waved their hands to Stepan in despair. He picked up +Mumu, and flung her promptly outside the door, just at Gerasim's feet, +and half an hour later a profound stillness led in the house, and the +old lady sat on her sofa looking blacker than a thundercloud. + +What trifles, if you think of it, will sometimes disturb any one! + +Till evening the lady was out of humor; she did not talk to any one, did +not play cards, and passed a bad night. She fancied the eau-de-Cologne +they gave her was not the same as she usually had, and that her pillow +smelt of soap, and she made the wardrobe-maid smell all the bed linen-- +in fact she was very upset and cross altogether. Next morning she +ordered Gavrila to be summoned an hour earlier than usual. + +"Tell me, please," she began, directly the latter, not without some +inward trepidation, crossed the threshold of her boudoir, "what dog was +that barking all night in our yard? It wouldn't let me sleep!" + +"A dog, 'm . . . what dog, 'm . . . may be, the dumb man's dog, 'm," he +brought out in a rather unsteady voice. + +"I don't know whether it was the dumb man's or whose, but it wouldn't +let me sleep. And I wonder what we have such a lot of dogs for! I wish +to know. We have a yard dog, haven't we?" + +"Oh yes, 'm, we have, 'm. Wolf, 'm." + +"Well, why more? what do we want more dogs for? It's simply introducing +disorder. There's no one in control in the house--that's what it is. And +what does the dumb man want with a dog? Who gave him leave to keep dogs +in my yard? Yesterday I went to the window, and there it was lying in +the flower-garden; it had dragged in nastiness it was gnawing, and my +roses are planted there . . ." + +The lady ceased. + +"Let her be gone from to-day . . . do you hear?" + +"Yes, 'm." + +"To-day. Now go. I will send for you later for the report." + +Gavrila went away. + +As he went through the drawing-room, the steward, by way of maintaining +order, moved a bell from one table to another; he stealthily blew his +duck-like nose in the hall, and went into the outer-hall. In the outer- +hall, on a locker, was Stepan asleep in the attitude of a slain warrior +in a battalion picture, his bare legs thrust out below the coat which +served him for a blanket. The steward gave him a shove, and whispered +some instructions to him, to which Stepan responded with something +between a yawn and a laugh. The steward went away, and Stepan got up, +put on his coat and his boots, went out and stood on the steps. Five +minutes had not passed before Gerasim made his appearance with a huge +bundle of hewn logs on his back, accompanied by the inseparable Mumu. +(The lady had given orders that her bedroom and boudoir should be heated +at times even in the summer.) Gerasim turned sideways before the door, +shoved it open with his shoulder, and staggered into the house with his +load. Mumu, as usual, stayed behind to wait for him. Then Stepan, +seizing his chance, suddenly pounced on her, like a kite on a chicken, +held her down to the ground, gathered her up in his arms, and without +even putting on his cap, ran out of the yard with her, got into the +first fly he met, and galloped off to a market-place. There he soon +found a purchaser, to whom he sold her for a shilling, on condition that +he would keep her for at least a week tied up; then he returned at once. +But before he got home, he got off the fly, and going right round the +yard, jumped over the fence into the yard from a back street. He was +afraid to go in at the gate for fear of meeting Gerasim. + +His anxiety was unnecessary, however; Gerasim was no longer in the yard. +On coming out of the house he had at once missed Mumu. He never +remembered her failing to wait for his return, and began running up and +down, looking for her, and calling her in his own way. . . . He rushed up +to his garret, up to the hay-loft, ran out into the street, this way and +that. . . . She was lost! He turned to the other serfs, with the most +despairing signs, questioned them about her, pointing to her height from +the ground, describing her with his hands. . . . Some of them really did +not know what had become of Mumu, and merely shook their heads; others did +know, and smiled to him for all response; while the steward assumed an +important air, and began scolding the coachmen. Then Gerasim ran right +away out of the yard. + +It was dark by the time he came back. From his worn-out look, his +unsteady walk, and his dusty clothes, it might be surmised that he had +been running over half Moscow. He stood still opposite the windows of +the mistress's house, took a searching look at the steps where a group +of house-serfs were crowded together, turned away, and uttered once more +his inarticulate "Mumu." Mumu did not answer. He went away. Every one +looked after him, but no one smiled or said a word, and the inquisitive +postilion Antipka reported next morning in the kitchen that the dumb man +had been groaning all night. + +All the next day Gerasim did not show himself, so that they were obliged +to send the coachman Potap for water instead of him, at which the +coachman Potap was anything but pleased. The lady asked Gavrila if her +orders had been carried out. Gavrila replied that they had. The next +morning Gerasim came out of his garret, and went about his work. He came +in to his dinner, ate it, and went out again, without a greeting to any +one. His face, which had always been lifeless, as with all deaf-mutes, +seemed now to be turned to stone. After dinner he went out of the yard +again, but not for long; he came back, and went straight up to the hay- +loft. Night came on, a clear moonlight night. Gerasim lay breathing +heavily, and incessantly turning from side to side. Suddenly he felt +something pull at the skirt of his coat. He started, but did not raise +his head, and even shut his eyes tighter. But again there was a pull, +stronger than before; he jumped up before him, with an end of string +round her neck, was Mumu, twisting and turning. A prolonged cry of +delight broke from his speechless breast; he caught up Mumu, and hugged +her tight in his arms, she licked his nose and eyes, and beard and +moustache, all in one instant. . . . He stood a little, thought a minute, +crept cautiously down from the hay-loft, looked round, and having +satisfied himself that no one could see him, made his way successfully +to his garret. Gerasim had guessed before that his dog had not got lost +by her own doing, that she must have been taken away by the mistress's +orders; the servants had explained to him by signs that his Mumu had +snapped at her, and he determined to take his own measures. First he fed +Mumu with a bit of bread, fondled her, and put her to bed, then he fell +to meditating, and spent the whole night long in meditating how he could +best conceal her. At last he decided to leave her all day in the garret, +and only to come in now and then to see her, and to take her out at +night. The hole in the door he stopped up effectually with his old +overcoat, and almost before it was light he was already in the yard, as +though nothing had happened, even--innocent guile!--the same expression +of melancholy on his face. It did not even occur to the poor deaf man +that Mumu would betray herself by her whining; in reality, everyone in +the house was soon aware that the dumb man's dog had come back, and was +locked up in his garret, but from sympathy with him and with her, and +partly, perhaps, from dread of him, they did not let him know that they +had found out his secret. The steward scratched his head, and gave a +despairing wave of his head, as much as to say, "Well, well, God have +mercy on him! If only it doesn't come to the mistress's ears!" + +But the dumb man had never shown such energy as on that day; he cleaned +and scraped the whole courtyard, pulled up every single weed with his +own hand, tugged up every stake in the fence of the flower-garden, to +satisfy himself that they were strong enough, and unaided drove them in +again; in fact, he toiled and labored so that even the old lady noticed +his zeal. Twice in the course of the day Gerasim went stealthily in to +see his prisoner; when night came on, he lay down to sleep with her in +the garret, not in the hay-loft, and only at two o'clock in the night he +went out to take her a turn in the fresh air. + +After walking about the courtyard a good while with her, he was just +turning back, when suddenly a rustle was heard behind the fence on the +side of the back street. Mumu pricked up her ears, growled--went up to +the fence, sniffed, and gave vent to a loud shrill bark. Some drunkard +had thought fit to take refuge under the fence for the night. At that +very time the old lady had just fallen asleep after a prolonged fit of +"nervous agitation"; these fits of agitation always overtook her after +too hearty a supper. The sudden bark waked her up: her heart palpitated, +and she felt faint. "Girls, girls!" she moaned. "Girls!" The terrified +maids ran into her bedroom. "Oh, oh, I am dying!" she said, flinging her +arms about in her agitation. "Again, that dog, again! . . . Oh, send for +the doctor. They mean to be the death of me. . . . The dog, the dog +again! Oh!" And she let her head fall back, which always signified a +swoon. They rushed for the doctor, that is, for the household physician, +Hariton. This doctor, whose whole qualification consisted in wearing +soft-soled boots, knew how to feel the pulse delicately. He used to +sleep fourteen hours out of the twenty-four, but the rest of the time he +was always sighing, and continually dosing the old lady with cherrybay +drops. This doctor ran up at once, fumigated the room with burnt +feathers, and when the old lady opened her eyes, promptly offered her a +wineglass of the hallowed drops on a silver tray. The old lady took +them, but began again at once in a tearful voice complaining of the dog, +of Gavrila, and of her fate, declaring that she was a poor old woman, +and that every one had forsaken her, no one pitied her, every one wished +her dead. Meanwhile the luckless Mumu had gone on barking, while Gerasim +tried in vain to call her away, from the fence. "There . . . there . . . +again," groaned the old lady, and once more she turned up the whites of +her eyes. The doctor whispered to a maid, she rushed into the outer +hall, and shook Stepan, he ran to wake Gavrila, Gavrila in a fury +ordered the whole household to get up. + +Gerasim turned round, saw lights and shadows moving in the windows, and +with an instinct of coming trouble in his heart, put Mumu under his arm, +ran into his garret, and locked himself in. A few minutes later five men +were banging at his door, but feeling the resistance of the bolt, they +stopped. Gavrila ran up in a fearful state of mind, and ordered them all +to wait there and watch till morning. Then he flew off himself to the +maids' quarter, and through an old companion, Liubov Liubimovna, with +whose assistance he used to steal tea, sugar, and other groceries and to +falsify the accounts, sent word to the mistress that the dog had +unhappily run back from somewhere, but that to-morrow she should be +killed, and would the mistress be so gracious as not to be angry and to +overlook it. The old lady would probably not have been so soon appeased, +but the doctor had in his haste given her fully forty drops instead of +twelve. The strong dose of narcotic acted; in a quarter of an hour the +old lady was in a sound and peaceful sleep; while Gerasim was lying with +a white face on his bed, holding Mumu's mouth tightly shut. + +Next morning the lady woke up rather late. Gavrila was waiting till she +should be awake, to give the order for a final assault on Gerasim's +stronghold, while he prepared himself to face a fearful storm. But the +storm did not come off. The old lady lay in bed and sent for the eldest +of her dependent companions. + +"Liubov Liubimovna," she began in a subdued weak voice--she was fond of +playing the part of an oppressed and forsaken victim; needless to say, +every one in the house was made extremely uncomfortable at such times-- +"Liubov Liubimovna, you see my position; go, my love, to Gavrila +Andreitch, and talk to him a little. Can he really prize some wretched +cur above the repose--the very life--of his mistress? I could not bear +to think so," she added, with an expression of deep feeling. "Go, my +love; be so good as to go to Gavrila Andreitch for me." + +Liubov Liubimovna went to Gavrila's room. What conversation passed +between them is not known, but a short time after, a whole crowd of +people was moving across the yard in the direction of Gerasim's garret. +Gavrila walked in front, holding his cap on with his hand, though there +was no wind. The footmen and cooks were close behind him; Uncle Tail was +looking out of a window, giving instructions, that is to say, simply +waving his hands. At the rear there was a crowd of small boys skipping +and hopping along; half of them were outsiders who had run up. On the +narrow staircase leading to the garret sat one guard; at the door were +standing two more with sticks. They began to mount the stairs, which +they entirely blocked up. Gavrila went up to the door, knocked with his +fist, shouting, "Open the door!" + +A stifled bark was audible, but there was no answer. + +"Open the door, I tell you," he repeated. + +"But, Gavrila Andreitch," Stepan observed from below, "he's deaf, you +know--he doesn't hear." + +They all laughed. + +"What are we to do?" Gavrila rejoined from above. + +"Why, there's a hole there in the door," answered Stepan, "so you shake +the stick in there." + +Gavrila bent down. + +"He's stuffed it up with a coat or something." + +"Well, you just push the coat in." + +At this moment a smothered bark was heard again. + +"See, see--she speaks for herself," was remarked in the crowd, and again +they laughed. + +Gavrila scratched his ear. + +"No, mate," he responded at last, "you can poke the coat in yourself, if +you like." + +"All right, let me." + +And Stepan scrambled up, took the stick, pushed in the coat, and began +waving the stick about in the opening, saying, "Come out, come out!" as +he did so. He was still waving the stick, when suddenly the door of the +garret was flung open; all the crowd flew pell-mell down the stairs +instantly, Gavrila first of all. Uncle Tail locked the window. + +"Come, come, come," shouted Gavrila from the yard, "mind what you're +about." + +Gerasim stood without stirring in his doorway. The crowd gathered at the +foot of the stairs. Gerasim, with his arms akimbo, looked down at all +these poor creatures in German coats; in his red peasant's shirt he +looked like a giant before them. Gavrila took a step forward. + +"Mind, mate," said he, "don't be insolent." + +And he began to explain to him by signs that the mistress insists on +having his dog; that he must hand it over at once, or it would be the +worse for him. + +Gerasim looked at him, pointed to the dog, made a motion with his hand +round his neck, as though he were pulling a noose tight, and glanced +with a face of inquiry at the steward. + +"Yes, yes," the latter assented, nodding; "yes, just so." + +Gerasim dropped his eyes, then all of a sudden roused himself and +pointed to Mumu, who was all the while standing beside him, innocently +wagging her tail and pricking up her ears inquisitively. Then he +repeated the strangling action round his neck and significantly struck +himself on the breast, as though announcing he would take upon himself +the task of killing Mumu. + +"But you'll deceive us," Gavrila waved back in response. + +Gerasim looked at him, smiled scornfully, struck himself again on the +breast, and slammed to the door. + +They all looked at one another in silence. + +"What does that mean?" Gavrila began. "He's locked himself in." + +"Let him be, Gavrila Andreitch," Stepan advised; "he'll do it if he's +promised. He's like that, you know. . . . If he makes a promise, it's a +certain thing. He's not like us others in that. The truth's the truth +with him. Yes, indeed." + +"Yes," they all repeated, nodding their heads, "yes--that's so--yes." + +Uncle Tail opened his window, and he too said, "Yes." + +"Well, may be, we shall see," responded Gavrila; "any way, we won't take +off the guard. Here you, Eroshka!" he added, addressing a poor fellow in +a yellow nankeen coat, who considered himself to be a gardener, "what +have you to do? Take a stick and sit here, and if anything happens, run +to me at once!" + +Eroshka took a stick, and sat down on the bottom stair. The crowd +dispersed, all except a few inquisitive small boys, while Gavrila went +home and sent word through Liubov Liubimovna to the mistress that +everything had been done, while he sent a postilion for a policeman in +case of need. The old lady tied a knot in her handkerchief, sprinkled +some eau-de-Cologne on it, sniffed at it, and rubbed her temples with +it, drank some tea, and, being still under the influence of the +cherrybay drops, fell asleep again. + +An hour after all this hubbub the garret door opened, and Gerasim showed +himself. He had on his best coat; he was leading Mumu by a string. +Eroshka moved aside and let him pass. Gerasim went to the gates. All the +small boys in the yard stared at him in silence. He did not even turn +round; he only put his cap on in the street. Gavrila sent the same +Eroshka to follow him and keep watch on him as a spy. Eroshka, seeing +from a distance that he had gone into a cookshop with his dog, waited +for him to come out again. + +Gerasim was well known at the cookshop, and his signs were understood. +He asked for cabbage soup with meat in it, and sat down with his arms on +the table. Mumu stood beside his chair, looking calmly at him with her +intelligent eyes. Her coat was glossy; one could see she had just been +combed down. They brought Gerasim the soup. He crumbled some bread into +it, cut the meat up small, and put the plate on the ground. Mumu began +eating in her usual refined way, her little muzzle daintily held so as +scarcely to touch her food. Gerasim gazed a long while at her; two big +tears suddenly rolled from his eyes; one fell on the dog's brow, the +other into the soup. He shaded his face with his hand. Mumu ate up half +the plateful, and came away from it, licking her lips. Gerasim got up, +paid for the soup, and went out, followed by the rather perplexed +glances of the waiter. Eroshka, seeing Gerasim, hid round a corner, and +letting him get in front, followed him again. + +Gerasim walked without haste, still holding Mumu by a string. When he +got to the corner of the street, he stood still as though reflecting, +and suddenly set off with rapid steps to the Crimean Ford. On the way he +went into the yard of a house, where a lodge was being built, and +carried away two bricks under his arm. At the Crimean Ford, he turned +along the bank, went to a place where there were two little rowing-boats +fastened to stakes (he had noticed them there before), and jumped into +one of them with Mumu. A lame old man came out of a shed in the corner +of a kitchen-garden and shouted after him; but Gerasim only nodded, and +began rowing so vigorously, though against stream, that in an instant he +had darted two hundred yards way. The old man stood for a while, +scratched his back first with the left and then with the right hand, and +went back hobbling to the shed. + +Gerasim rowed on and on. Moscow was soon left behind. Meadows stretched +each side of the bank, market gardens, fields, and copses; peasants' +huts began to make their appearance. There was the fragrance of the +country. He threw down his oars, bent his head down to Mumu, who was +sitting facing him on a dry cross seat--the bottom of the boat was full +of water--and stayed motionless, his mighty hands clasped upon her back, +while the boat was gradually carried back by the current towards the +town. At last Gerasim drew himself up hurriedly, with a sort of sick +anger in his face, he tied up the bricks he had taken with string, made +a running noose, put it round Mumu's neck, lifted her up over the river, +and for the last time looked at her. . . . She watched him confidingly and +without any fear, faintly wagging her tail. He turned away, frowned, and +wrung his hands. . . . Gerasim heard nothing, neither the quick shrill +whine of Mumu as she fell, nor the heavy splash of the water; for him +the noisiest day was soundless and silent as even the stillest night is +not silent to us. When he opened his eyes again, little wavelets were +hurrying over the river, chasing one another; as before they broke +against the boat's side, and only far away behind wide circles moved +widening to the bank. + +Directly Gerasim had vanished from Eroshka's sight, the latter returned +home and reported what he had seen. + +"Well, then," observed Stepan, "he'll drown her. Now we can feel easy +about it. If he once promises a thing . . ." + +No one saw Gerasim during the day. He did not have dinner at home. +Evening came on; they were all gathered together to supper, except him. + +"What a strange creature that Gerasim is!" piped a fat laundrymaid; +"fancy, upsetting himself like that over a dog. . . . Upon my word!" + +"But Gerasim has been here," Stepan cried all at once, scraping up his +porridge with a spoon. + +"How? when?" + +"Why, a couple of hours ago. Yes, indeed! I ran against him at the gate; +he was going out again from here; he was coming out of the yard. I tried +to ask him about his dog, but he wasn't in the best of humors, I could +see. Well, he gave me a shove; I suppose he only meant to put me out of +his way, as if he'd say, 'Let me go, do!' but he fetched me such a crack +on my neck, so seriously, that--oh! oh!" And Stepan, who could not help +laughing, shrugged up and rubbed the back of his head. "Yes," he added; +"he has got a fist; it's something like a fist, there's no denying +that!" + +They all laughed at Stepan, and after supper they separated to go to +bed. + +Meanwhile, at that very time, a gigantic figure with a bag on his +shoulders and a stick in his hand, was eagerly and persistently stepping +out along the T--- high-road. It was Gerasim. He was hurrying on without +looking round; hurrying homewards, to his own village, to his own country. +After drowning poor Mumu, he had run back to his garret, hurriedly packed +a few things together in an old horsecloth, tied it up in a bundle, +tossed it on his shoulder, and so was ready. He had noticed the road +carefully when he was brought to Moscow; the village his mistress had +taken him from lay only about twenty miles off the high-road. He walked +along it with a sort of invincible purpose, a desperate and at the same +time joyous determination. He walked, his shoulders thrown back and his +chest expanded; his eyes were fixed greedily straight before him. He +hastened as though his old mother were waiting for him at home, as though +she were calling him to her after long wanderings in strange parts, +among strangers. The summer night, that was just drawing in, was still +and warm; on one side, where the sun had set, the horizon was still light +and faintly flushed with the last glow of the vanished day; on the other +side a blue-gray twilight had already risen up. The night was coming up +from that quarter. Quails were in hundreds around; corncrakes were +calling to one another in the thickets. . . . Gerasim could not hear them; +he could not hear the delicate night-whispering of the trees, by which his +strong legs carried him, but he smelt the familiar scent of the ripening +rye, which was wafted from the dark fields; he felt the wind, flying to +meet him--the wind from home--beat caressingly upon his face, and play +with his hair and his beard. He saw before him the whitening road +homewards, straight as an arrow. He saw in the sky stars innumerable, +lighting up his way, and stepped out, strong and bold as a lion, so that +when the rising sun shed its moist rosy light upon the still fresh and +unwearied traveller, already thirty miles lay between him and Moscow. + +In a couple of days he was at home, in his little hut, to the great +astonishment of the soldier's wife who had been put in there. After +praying before the holy pictures, he set off at once to the village +elder. The village elder was at first surprised; but the hay-cutting had +just begun; Gerasim was a first-rate mower, and they put a scythe into +his hand on the spot, and he went to mow in his old way, mowing so that +the peasants were fairly astounded as they watched his wide sweeping +strokes and the heaps he raked together. . . . + +In Moscow the day after Gerasim's flight they missed him. They went to +his garret, rummaged about in it, and spoke to Gavrila. He came, looked, +shrugged his shoulders, and decided that the dumb man had either run +away or had drowned himself with his stupid dog. They gave information +to the police, and informed the lady. The old lady was furious, burst +into tears, gave orders that he was to be found whatever happened, +declared she had never ordered the dog to be destroyed, and, in fact, +gave Gavrila such a rating that he could do nothing all day but shake +his head and murmur, "Well!" until Uncle Tail checked him at last, +sympathetically echoing "We-ell!" At last the news came from the country +of Gerasim's being there. The old lady was somewhat pacified; at first +she issued a mandate for him to be brought back without delay to Moscow; +afterwards, however, she declared that such an ungrateful creature was +absolutely of no use to her. Soon after this she died herself; and her +heirs had no thought to spare for Gerasim; they let their mother's other +servants redeem their freedom on payment of an annual rent. + +And Gerasim is living still, a lonely man in his lonely hut; he is +strong and healthy as before, and does the work of four men as before, +and as before is serious and steady. But his neighbors have observed +that ever since his return from Moscow he has quite given up the society +of women; he will not even look at them, and does not keep even a single +dog. + +"It's his good luck, though," the peasants reason, "that he can get on +without female folk; and as for a dog--what need has he of a dog? you +wouldn't get a thief to go into his yard for any money!" Such is the +fame of the dumb man's Titanic strength. + + + + + + +THE SHOT + +BY + +ALEXANDER POUSHKIN + +From "Poushkin's Prose Tales." Translated by T. Keane. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +We were stationed in the little town of N--. The life of an officer in +the army is well known. In the morning, drill and the riding-school; +dinner with the Colonel or at a Jewish restaurant; in the evening, punch +and cards. In N--- there was not one open house, not a single +marriageable girl. We used to meet in each other's rooms, where, except +our uniforms, we never saw anything. + +One civilian only was admitted into our society. He was about thirty- +five years of age, and therefore we looked upon him as an old fellow. +His experience gave him great advantage over us, and his habitual +taciturnity, stern disposition, and caustic tongue produced a deep +impression upon our young minds. Some mystery surrounded his existence; +he had the appearance of a Russian, although his name was a foreign one. +He had formerly served in the Hussars, and with distinction. Nobody knew +the cause that had induced him to retire from the service and settle in +a wretched little village, where he lived poorly and, at the same time, +extravagantly. He always went on foot, and constantly wore a shabby +black overcoat, but the officers of our regiment were ever welcome at +his table. His dinners, it is true, never consisted of more than two or +three dishes, prepared by a retired soldier, but the champagne flowed +like water. Nobody knew what his circumstances were, or what his income +was, and nobody dared to question him about them. He had a collection of +books, consisting chiefly of works on military matters and a few novels. +He willingly lent them to us to read, and never asked for them back; on +the other hand, he never returned to the owner the books that were lent +to him. His principal amusement was shooting with a pistol. The walls of +his room were riddled with bullets, and were as full of holes as a +honeycomb. A rich collection of pistols was the only luxury in the +humble cottage where he lived. The skill which he had acquired with his +favorite weapon was simply incredible: and if he had offered to shoot a +pear off somebody's forage-cap, not a man in our regiment would have +hesitated to place the object upon his head. + +Our conversation often turned upon duels. Silvio--so I will call him-- +never joined in it. When asked if he had ever fought, he dryly replied +that he had; but he entered into no particulars, and it was evident that +such questions were not to his liking. We came to the conclusion that he +had upon his conscience the memory of some unhappy victim of his +terrible skill. Moreover, it never entered into the head of any of us to +suspect him of anything like cowardice. There are persons whose mere +look is sufficient to repel such a suspicion. But an unexpected incident +occurred which astounded us all. + +One day, about ten of our officers dined with Silvio. They drank as +usual, that is to say, a great deal. After dinner we asked our host to +hold the bank for a game at faro. For a long time he refused, for he +hardly ever played, but at last he ordered cards to be brought, placed +half a hundred ducats upon the table, and sat down to deal. We took our +places round him, and the play began. It was Silvio's custom to preserve +a complete silence when playing. He never disputed, and never entered +into explanations. If the punter made a mistake in calculating, he +immediately paid him the difference or noted down the surplus. We were +acquainted with this habit of his, and we always allowed him to have his +own way; but among us on this occasion was an officer who had only +recently been transferred to our regiment. During the course of the +game, this officer absently scored one point too many. Silvio took the +chalk and noted down the correct account according to his usual custom. +The officer, thinking that he had made a mistake, began to enter into +explanations. Silvio continued dealing in silence. The officer, losing +patience, took the brush and rubbed out what he considered was wrong. +Silvio took the chalk and corrected the score again. The officer, heated +with wine, play, and the laughter of his comrades, considered himself +grossly insulted, and in his rage he seized a brass candlestick from the +table, and hurled it at Silvio, who barely succeeded in avoiding the +missile. We were filled with consternation. Silvio rose, white with +rage, and with gleaming eyes, said: + +"My dear sir, have the goodness to withdraw, and thank God that this has +happened in my house." + +None of us entertained the slightest doubt as to what the result would +be, and we already looked upon our new comrade as a dead man. The +officer withdrew, saying that he was ready to answer for his offence in +whatever way the banker liked. The play went on for a few minutes +longer, but feeling that our host was no longer interested in the game, +we withdrew one after the other, and repaired to our respective +quarters, after having exchanged a few words upon the probability of +there soon being a vacancy in the regiment. + +The next day, at the riding-school, we were already asking each other if +the poor lieutenant was still alive, when he himself appeared among us. +We put the same question to him, and he replied that he had not yet +heard from Silvio. This astonished us. We went to Silvio's house and +found him in the courtyard shooting bullet after bullet into an ace +pasted upon the gate. He received us as usual, but did not utter a word +about the event of the previous evening. Three days passed, and the +lieutenant was still alive. We asked each other in astonishment: "Can it +be possible that Silvio is not going to fight?" + +Silvio did not fight. He was satisfied with a very lame explanation, and +became reconciled to his assailant. + +This lowered him very much in the opinion of all our young fellows. Want +of courage is the last thing to be pardoned by young men, who usually +look upon bravery as the chief of all human virtues, and the excuse for +every possible fault. But, by degrees, everything became forgotten, and +Silvio regained his former influence. + +I alone could not approach him on the old footing. Being endowed by +nature with a romantic imagination, I had become attached more than all +the others to the man whose life was an enigma, and who seemed to me the +hero of some mysterious drama. He was fond of me; at least, with me +alone did he drop his customary sarcastic tone, and converse on +different subjects in a simple and unusually agreeable manner. But after +this unlucky evening, the thought that his honor had been tarnished, and +that the stain had been allowed to remain upon it in accordance with his +own wish, was ever present in my mind, and prevented me treating him as +before. I was ashamed to look at him. Silvio was too intelligent and +experienced not to observe this and guess the cause of it. This seemed +to vex him; at least I observed once or twice a desire on his part to +enter into an explanation with me, but I avoided such opportunities, and +Silvio gave up the attempt. From that time forward I saw him only in the +presence of my comrades, and our confidential conversations came to an +end. + +The inhabitants of the capital, with minds occupied by so many matters +of business and pleasure, have no idea of the many sensations so +familiar to the inhabitants of villages and small towns, as, for +instance, the awaiting the arrival of the post. On Tuesdays and Fridays +our regimental bureau used to be filled with officers: some expecting +money, some letters, and others newspapers. The packets were usually +opened on the spot, items of news were communicated from one to another, +and the bureau used to present a very animated picture. Silvio used to +have his letters addressed to our regiment, and he was generally there +to receive them. + +One day he received a letter, the seal of which he broke with a look of +great impatience. As he read the contents, his eyes sparkled. The +officers, each occupied with his own letters, did not observe anything. + +"Gentlemen," said Silvio, "circumstances demand my immediate departure; +I leave to-night. I hope that you will not refuse to dine with me for +the last time. I shall expect you, too," he added, turning towards me. +"I shall expect you without fail." + +With these words he hastily departed, and we, after agreeing to meet at +Silvio's, dispersed to our various quarters. + +I arrived at Silvio's house at the appointed time, and found nearly the +whole regiment there. All his things were already packed; nothing +remained but the bare, bullet-riddled walls. We sat down to table. Our +host was in an excellent humor, and his gayety was quickly communicated +to the rest. Corks popped every moment, glasses foamed incessantly, and, +with the utmost warmth, we wished our departing friend a pleasant +journey and every happiness. When we rose from the table it was already +late in the evening. After having wished everybody good-bye, Silvio took +me by the hand and detained me just at the moment when I was preparing +to depart. + +"I want to speak to you," he said in a low voice. + +I stopped behind. + +The guests had departed, and we two were left alone. Sitting down +opposite each other, we silently lit our pipes. Silvio seemed greatly +troubled; not a trace remained of his former convulsive gayety. The +intense pallor of his face, his sparkling eyes, and the thick smoke +issuing from his mouth, gave him a truly diabolical appearance. Several +minutes elapsed, and then Silvio broke the silence. + +"Perhaps we shall never see each other again," said he; "before we part, +I should like to have an explanation with you. You may have observed +that I care very little for the opinion of other people, but I like you, +and I feel that it would be painful to me to leave you with a wrong +impression upon your mind." + +He paused, and began to knock the ashes out of his pipe. I sat gazing +silently at the ground. + +"You thought it strange," he continued, "that I did not demand +satisfaction from that drunken idiot R---. You will admit, however, that +having the choice of weapons, his life was in my hands, while my own was +in no great danger. I could ascribe my forbearance to generosity alone, +but I will not tell a lie. If I could have chastised R--- without the +least risk to my own life, I should never have pardoned him." + +I looked at Silvio with astonishment. Such a confession completely +astounded me. Silvio continued: + +"Exactly so: I have no right to expose myself to death. Six years ago I +received a slap in the face, and my enemy still lives." + +My curiosity was greatly excited. + +"Did you not fight with him?" I asked. "Circumstances probably separated +you." + +"I did fight with him," replied Silvio; "and here is a souvenir of our +duel." + +Silvio rose and took from a cardboard box a red cap with a gold tassel +and embroidery (what the French call a bonnet de police); he put it on-- +a bullet had passed through it about an inch above the forehead. + +"You know," continued Silvio, "that I served in one of the Hussar +regiments. My character is well known to you: I am accustomed to taking +the lead. From my youth this has been my passion. In our time +dissoluteness was the fashion, and I was the most outrageous man in the +army. We used to boast of our drunkenness; I beat in a drinking bout the +famous Bourtsoff [Footnote: A cavalry officer, notorious for his drunken +escapades], of whom Denis Davidoff [Footnote: A military poet who +flourished in the reign of Alexander I] has sung. Duels in our regiment +were constantly taking place, and in all of them I was either second or +principal. My comrades adored me, while the regimental commanders, who +were constantly being changed, looked upon me as a necessary evil. + +"I was calmly enjoying my reputation, when a young man belonging to a +wealthy and distinguished family--I will not mention his name--joined +our regiment. Never in my life have I met with such a fortunate fellow! +Imagine to yourself youth, wit, beauty, unbounded gayety, the most +reckless bravery, a famous name, untold wealth--imagine all these, and +you can form some idea of the effect that he would be sure to produce +among us. My supremacy was shaken. Dazzled by my reputation, he began to +seek my friendship, but I received him coldly, and without the least +regret he held aloof from me. I took a hatred to him. His success in the +regiment and in the society of ladies brought me to the verge of +despair. I began to seek a quarrel with him; to my epigrams he replied +with epigrams which always seemed to me more spontaneous and more +cutting than mine, and which were decidedly more amusing, for he joked +while I fumed. At last, at a ball given by a Polish landed proprietor, +seeing him the object of the attention of all the ladies, and especially +of the mistress of the house, with whom I was upon very good terms, I +whispered some grossly insulting remark in his ear. He flamed up and +gave me a slap in the face. We grasped our swords; the ladies fainted; +we were separated; and that same night we set out to fight. + +"The dawn was just breaking. I was standing at the appointed place with +my three seconds. With inexplicable impatience I awaited my opponent. +The spring sun rose, and it was already growing hot. I saw him coming in +the distance. He was walking on foot, accompanied by one second. We +advanced to meet him. He approached, holding his cap filled with black +cherries. The seconds measured twelve paces for us. I had to fire first, +but my agitation was so great, that I could not depend upon the +steadiness of my hand; and in order to give myself time to become calm, +I ceded to him the first shot. My adversary would not agree to this. It +was decided that we should cast lots. The first number fell to him, the +constant favorite of fortune. He took aim, and his bullet went through +my cap. It was now my turn. His life at last was in my hands; I looked +at him eagerly, endeavoring to detect if only the faintest shadow of +uneasiness. But he stood in front of my pistol, picking out the ripest +cherries from his cap and spitting out the stones, which flew almost as +far as my feet. His indifference annoyed me beyond measure. 'What is the +use,' thought I, 'of depriving him of life, when he attaches no value +whatever to it?' A malicious thought flashed through my mind. I lowered +my pistol. + +"'You don't seem to be ready for death just at present,' I said to him: +'you wish to have your breakfast; I do not wish to hinder you.' + +"'You are not hindering me in the least,' replied he. 'Have the goodness +to fire, or just as you please--the shot remains yours; I shall always +be ready at your service.' + +"I turned to the seconds, informing them that I had no intention of +firing that day, and with that the duel came to an end. + +"I resigned my commission and retired to this little place. Since then +not a day has passed that I have not thought of revenge. And now my hour +has arrived." + +Silvio took from his pocket the letter that he had received that +morning, and gave it to me to read. Some one (it seemed to be his +business agent) wrote to him from Moscow, that a CERTAIN PERSON was +going to be married to a young and beautiful girl. + +"You can guess," said Silvio, "who the certain person is. I am going to +Moscow. We shall see if he will look death in the face with as much +indifference now, when he is on the eve of being married, as he did once +with his cherries!" + +With these words, Silvio rose, threw his cap upon the floor, and began +pacing up and down the room like a tiger in his cage. I had listened to +him in silence; strange conflicting feelings agitated me. + +The servant entered and announced that the horses were ready. Silvio +grasped my hand tightly, and we embraced each other. He seated himself +in his telega, in which lay two trunks, one containing his pistols, the +other his effects. We said good-bye once more, and the horses galloped +off. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +Several years passed, and family circumstances compelled me to settle in +the poor little village of M---. Occupied with agricultural pursuits, I +ceased not to sigh in secret for my former noisy and careless life. The +most difficult thing of all was having to accustom myself to passing the +spring and winter evenings in perfect solitude. Until the hour for +dinner I managed to pass away the time somehow or other, talking with +the bailiff, riding about to inspect the work, or going round to look at +the new buildings; but as soon as it began to get dark, I positively did +not know what to do with myself. The few books that I had found in the +cupboards and storerooms I already knew by heart. All the stories that +my housekeeper Kirilovna could remember I had heard over and over again. +The songs of the peasant women made me feel depressed. I tried drinking +spirits, but it made my head ache; and moreover, I confess I was afraid +of becoming a drunkard from mere chagrin, that is to say, the saddest +kind of drunkard, of which I had seen many examples in our district. + +I had no near neighbors, except two or three topers, whose conversation +consisted for the most part of hiccups and sighs. Solitude was +preferable to their society. At last I decided to go to bed as early as +possible, and to dine as late as possible; in this way I shortened the +evening and lengthened out the day, and I found that the plan answered +very well. + +Four versts from my house was a rich estate belonging to the Countess +B---; but nobody lived there except the steward. The Countess had only +visited her estate once, in the first year of her married life, and then +she had remained there no longer than a month. But in the second spring +of my hermitical life a report was circulated that the Countess, with +her husband, was coming to spend the summer on her estate. The report +turned out to be true, for they arrived at the beginning of June. + +The arrival of a rich neighbor is an important event in the lives of +country people. The landed proprietors and the people of their +households talk about it for two months beforehand and for three years +afterwards. As for me, I must confess that the news of the arrival of a +young and beautiful neighbor affected me strongly. I burned with +impatience to see her, and the first Sunday after her arrival I set out +after dinner for the village of A---, to pay my respects to the Countess +and her husband, as their nearest neighbor and most humble servant. A +lackey conducted me into the Count's study, and then went to announce +me. The spacious apartment was furnished with every possible luxury. +Around the walls were cases filled with books and surmounted by bronze +busts; over the marble mantelpiece was a large mirror; on the floor was +a green cloth covered with carpets. Unaccustomed to luxury in my own +poor corner, and not having seen the wealth of other people for a long +time, I awaited the appearance of the Count with some little +trepidation, as a suppliant from the provinces awaits the arrival of the +minister. The door opened, and a handsome-looking man, of about thirty- +two years of age, entered the room. The Count approached me with a frank +and friendly air; I endeavored to be self-possessed and began to +introduce myself, but he anticipated me. We sat down. His conversation, +which was easy and agreeable, soon dissipated my awkward bashfulness; +and I was already beginning to recover my usual composure, when the +Countess suddenly entered, and I became more confused than ever. She was +indeed beautiful. The Count presented me. I wished to appear at ease, +but the more I tried to assume an air of unconstraint, the more awkward +I felt. They, in order to give me time to recover myself and to become +accustomed to my new acquaintances, began to talk to each other, +treating me as a good neighbor, and without ceremony. Meanwhile, I +walked about the room, examining the books and pictures. I am no judge +of pictures, but one of them attracted my attention. It represented some +view in Switzerland, but it was not the painting that struck me, but the +circumstance that the canvas was shot through by two bullets, one +planted just above the other. + +"A good shot that!" said I, turning to the Count. + +"Yes," replied he, "a very remarkable shot. . . . Do you shoot well?" he +continued. + +"Tolerably," replied I, rejoicing that the conversation had turned at +last upon a subject that was familiar to me. "At thirty paces I can +manage to hit a card without fail,--I mean, of course, with a pistol +that I am used to." + +"Really?" said the Countess, with a look of the greatest interest. "And +you, my dear, could you hit a card at thirty paces?" + +"Some day," replied the Count, "we will try. In my time I did not shoot +badly, but it is now four years since I touched a pistol." + +"Oh!" I observed, "in that case, I don't mind laying a wager that Your +Excellency will not hit the card at twenty paces; the pistol demands +practice every day. I know that from experience. In our regiment I was +reckoned one of the best shots. It once happened that I did not touch a +pistol for a whole month, as I had sent mine to be mended; and would you +believe it, Your Excellency, the first time I began to shoot again, I +missed a bottle four times in succession at twenty paces. Our captain, a +witty and amusing fellow, happened to be standing by, and he said to me: +'It is evident, my friend, that your hand will not lift itself against +the bottle.' No, Your Excellency, you must not neglect to practise, or +your hand will soon lose its cunning. The best shot that I ever met used +to shoot at least three times every day before dinner. It was as much +his custom to do this as it was to drink his daily glass of brandy." + +The Count and Countess seemed pleased that I had begun to talk. + +"And what sort of a shot was he?" asked the Count. + +"Well, it was this way with him, Your Excellency: if he saw a fly settle +on the wall--you smile, Countess, but, before Heaven, it is the truth-- +if he saw a fly, he would call out: 'Kouzka, my pistol!' Kouzka would +bring him a loaded pistol--bang! and the fly would be crushed against +the wall." + +"Wonderful!" said the Count. "And what was his name?" + +"Silvio, Your Excellency." + +"Silvio!" exclaimed the Count, starting up. "Did you know Silvio?" + +"How could I help knowing him, Your Excellency: we were intimate +friends; he was received in our regiment like a brother officer, but it +is now five years since I had any tidings of him. Then Your Excellency +also knew him?" + +"Oh, yes, I knew him very well. Did he ever tell you of one very strange +incident in his life?" + +"Does Your Excellency refer to the slap in the face that he received +from some blackguard at a ball?" + +"Did he tell you the name of this blackguard?" + +"No, Your Excellency, he never mentioned his name, . . . Ah! Your +Excellency!" I continued, guessing the truth: "pardon me . . . I did not +know . . . could it really have been you?" + +"Yes, I myself," replied the Count, with a look of extraordinary +agitation; "and that bullet-pierced picture is a memento of our last +meeting." + +"Ah, my dear," said the Countess, "for Heaven's sake, do not speak about +that; it would be too terrible for me to listen to." + +"No," replied the Count: "I will relate everything. He knows how I +insulted his friend, and it is only right that he should know how Silvio +revenged himself." + +The Count pushed a chair towards me, and with the liveliest interest I +listened to the following story: + +"Five years ago I got married. The first month--the honeymoon--I spent +here, in this village. To this house I am indebted for the happiest +moments of my life, as well as for one of its most painful recollections. + +"One evening we went out together for a ride on horseback. My wife's +horse became restive; she grew frightened, gave the reins to me, and +returned home on foot. I rode on before. In the courtyard I saw a +travelling carriage, and I was told that in my study sat waiting for me +a man, who would not give his name, but who merely said that he had +business with me. I entered the room and saw in the darkness a man, +covered with dust and wearing a beard of several days' growth. He was +standing there, near the fireplace. I approached him, trying to remember +his features. + +"'You do not recognize me, Count?' said he, in a quivering voice. + +"'Silvio!' I cried, and I confess that I felt as if my hair had suddenly +stood on end. + +"'Exactly,' continued he. 'There is a shot due to me, and I have come to +discharge my pistol. Are you ready?' + +"His pistol protruded from a side pocket. I measured twelve paces and +took my stand there in that corner, begging him to fire quickly, before +my wife arrived. He hesitated, and asked for a light. Candles were +brought in. I closed the doors, gave orders that nobody was to enter, +and again begged him to fire. He drew out his pistol and took aim. . . . +I counted the seconds. . . . I thought of her. . . . A terrible minute +passed! Silvio lowered his hand. + +"'I regret,' said he, 'that the pistol is not loaded with cherry- +stones . . . the bullet is heavy. It seems to me that this is not a duel, +but a murder. I am not accustomed to taking aim at unarmed men. Let us +begin all over again; we will cast lots as to who shall fire first.' + +"My head went round. . . . I think I raised some objection. . . . At last +we loaded another pistol, and rolled up two pieces of paper. He placed +these latter in his cap--the same through which I had once sent a +bullet--and again I drew the first number. + +"'You are devilish lucky, Count,' said he, with a smile that I shall +never forget. + +"I don't know what was the matter with me, or how it was that he managed +to make me do it . . . but I fired and hit that picture." + +The Count pointed with his finger to the perforated picture; his face +glowed like fire; the Countess was whiter than her own handkerchief; and +I could not restrain an exclamation. + +"I fired," continued the Count, "and, thank Heaven, missed my aim. Then +Silvio . . . at that moment he was really terrible . . . Silvio raised his +hand to take aim at me. Suddenly the door opens, Masha rushes into the +room, and with a loud shriek throws herself upon my neck. Her presence +restored to me all my courage. + +"'My dear,' said I to her, 'don't you see that we are joking? How +frightened you are! Go and drink a glass of water and then come back to +us; I will introduce you to an old friend and comrade.' + +"Masha still doubted. + +"'Tell me, is my husband speaking the truth?' said she, turning to the +terrible Silvio: 'is it true that you are only joking?' + +"'He is always joking, Countess,' replied Silvio: 'once he gave me a +slap in the face in a joke; on another occasion he sent a bullet through +my cap in a joke; and just now, when he fired at me and missed me, it +was all in a joke. And now I feel inclined for a joke.' + +"With these words he raised his pistol to take aim at me--right before +her! Masha threw herself at his feet. + +"'Rise, Masha; are you not ashamed!' I cried in a rage: 'and you, sir, +will you cease to make fun of a poor woman? Will you fire or not?' + +"'I will not,' replied Silvio: 'I am satisfied. I have seen your +confusion, your alarm. I forced you to fire at me. That is sufficient. +You will remember me. I leave you to your conscience.' + +"Then he turned to go, but pausing in the doorway, and looking at the +picture that my shot had passed through, he fired at it almost without +taking aim, and disappeared. My wife had fainted away; the servants did +not venture to stop him, the mere look of him filled them with terror. +He went out upon the steps, called his coachman, and drove off before I +could recover myself." + +The Count was silent. In this way I learned the end of the story, whose +beginning had once made such a deep impression upon me. The hero of it I +never saw again. It is said that Silvio commanded a detachment of +Hetairists during the revolt under Alexander Ipsilanti, and that he was +killed in the battle of Skoulana. + + + + + + +ST. JOHN'S EVE + +BY + +NIKOLAI VASILIEVITCH GOGOL + + +From "St. John's Eve." Translated by Isabel F. Hapgood. + +1886 + +[Footnote: This is one of the stories from the celebrated volume +entitled "Tales at a Farmhouse near Dikanka."] + + +(RELATED BY THE SACRISTAN OF THE DIKANKA CHURCH) + + + + +Thoma Grigorovitch had a very strange sort of eccentricity: to the day +of his death he never liked to tell the same thing twice. There were +times when, if you asked him to relate a thing afresh, behold, he would +interpolate new matter, or alter it so that it was impossible to +recognize it. Once on a time, one of those gentlemen (it is hard for us +simple people to put a name to them, to say whether they are scribblers +or not scribblers: but it is just the same thing as the usurers at our +yearly fairs; they clutch and beg and steal every sort of frippery, and +issue mean little volumes, no thicker than an ABC book, every month, or +even every week),--one of these gentlemen wormed this same story out of +Thoma Grigorovitch, and he completely forgot about it. But that same +young gentleman in the pea-green caftan, whom I have mentioned, and one +of whose Tales you have already read, I think, came from Poltava, +bringing with him a little book, and, opening it in the middle, shows it +to us. Thoma Grigorovitch was on the point of setting his spectacles +astride of his nose, but recollected that he had forgotten to wind +thread about them, and stick them together with wax, so he passed it +over to me. As I understand something about reading and writing, and do +not wear spectacles, I undertook to read it. I had not turned two +leaves, when all at once he caught me by the hand, and stopped me. + +"Stop! tell me first what you are reading." + +I confess that I was a trifle stunned by such a question. + +"What! what am I reading, Thoma Grigorovitch? These were your very +words." + +"Who told you that they were my words?" + +"Why, what more would you have? Here it is printed: RELATED BY SUCH AND +SUCH A SACRISTAN." + +"Spit on the head of the man who printed that! he lies, the dog of a +Moscow pedler! Did I say that? 'TWAS JUST THE SAME AS THOUGH ONE HADN'T +HIS WITS ABOUT HIM. Listen. I'll tell it to you on the spot." + +We moved up to the table, and he began. + + * * * * + +My grandfather (the kingdom of heaven be his! may he eat only wheaten +rolls and makovniki [FOOTNOTE: Poppy-seeds cooked in honey, and dried in +square cakes.] with honey in the other world!) could tell a story +wonderfully well. When he used to begin on a tale, you wouldn't stir +from the spot all day, but keep on listening. He was no match for the +story-teller of the present day, when he begins to lie, with a tongue as +though he had had nothing to eat for three days, so that you snatch your +cap and flee from the house. As I now recall it,--my old mother was +alive then,--in the long winter evenings when the frost was crackling +out of doors, and had so sealed up hermetically the narrow panes of our +cottage, she used to sit before the hackling-comb, drawing out a long +thread in her hand, rocking the cradle with her foot, and humming a +song, which I seem to hear even now. + +The fat-lamp, quivering and flaring up as though in fear of something, +lighted us within our cottage; the spindle hummed; and all of us +children, collected in a cluster, listened to grandfather, who had not +crawled off the oven for more than five years, owing to his great age. +But the wondrous tales of the incursions of the Zaporozhian Cossacks, +the Poles, the bold deeds of Podkova, of Poltor-Kozhukh, and +Sagaidatchnii, did not interest us so much as the stories about some +deed of old which always sent a shiver through our frames, and made our +hair rise upright on our heads. Sometimes such terror took possession of +us in consequence of them, that, from that evening on, Heaven knows what +a marvel everything seemed to us. If you chance to go out of the cottage +after nightfall for anything, you imagine that a visitor from the other +world has lain down to sleep in your bed; and I should not be able to +tell this a second time were it not that I had often taken my own smock, +at a distance, as it lay at the head of the bed, for the Evil One rolled +up in a ball! But the chief thing about grandfather's stories was, that +he never had lied in all his life; and whatever he said was so, was so. + +I will now relate to you one of his marvellous tales. I know that there +are a great many wise people who copy in the courts, and can even read +civil documents, who, if you were to put into their hand a simple +prayer-book, could not make out the first letter in it, and would show +all their teeth in derision--which is wisdom. These people laugh at +everything you tell them. Such incredulity has spread abroad in the +world! What then? (Why, may God and the Holy Virgin cease to love me if +it is not possible that even you will not believe me!) Once he said +something about witches; . . . What then? Along comes one of these head- +breakers,--and doesn't believe in witches! Yes, glory to God that I have +lived so long in the world! I have seen heretics, to whom it would be +easier to lie in confession than it would to our brothers and equals to +take snuff, and those people would deny the existence of witches! But +let them just dream about something, and they won't even tell what it +was! There's no use in talking about them! + + * * * * + +ST. JOHN'S EVE. + +No one could have recognized this village of ours a little over a +hundred years ago: a hamlet it was, the poorest kind of a hamlet. Half a +score of miserable izbas, unplastered, badly thatched, were scattered +here and there about the fields. There was not an inclosure or decent +shed to shelter animals or wagons. That was the way the wealthy lived; +and if you had looked for our brothers, the poor,--why, a hole in the +ground,--that was a cabin for you! Only by the smoke could you tell that +a God-created man lived there. You ask why they lived so? It was not +entirely through poverty: almost every one led a wandering, Cossack +life, and gathered not a little plunder in foreign lands; it was rather +because there was no reason for setting up a well-ordered khata (wooden +house). How many people were wandering all over the country,--Crimeans, +Poles, Lithuanians! It was quite possible that their own countrymen +might make a descent, and plunder everything. Anything was possible. + +In this hamlet a man, or rather a devil in human form, often made his +appearance. Why he came, and whence, no one knew. He prowled about, got +drunk, and suddenly disappeared as if into the air, and there was not a +hint of his existence. Then, again, behold, he seemed to have dropped +from the sky, and went flying about the streets of the village, of which +no trace now remains, and which was not more than a hundred paces from +Dikanka. He would collect together all the Cossacks he met; then there +were songs, laughter, money in abundance, and vodka flowed like +water. . . . He would address the pretty girls, and give them ribbons, +earrings, strings of beads,--more than they knew what to do with. It is +true that the pretty girls rather hesitated about accepting his +presents: God knows, perhaps they had passed through unclean hands. My +grandfather's aunt, who kept a tavern at that time, in which Basavriuk +(as they called that devil-man) often had his carouses, said that no +consideration on the face of the earth would have induced her to accept +a gift from him. And then, again, how avoid accepting? Fear seized on +every one when he knit his bristly brows, and gave a sidelong glance +which might send your feet, God knows whither; but if you accept, then +the next night some fiend from the swamp, with horns on his head, comes +to call, and begins to squeeze your neck, when there is a string of +beads upon it; or bite your finger, if there is a ring upon it; or drag +you by the hair, if ribbons are braided in it. God have mercy, then, on +those who owned such gifts! But here was the difficulty: it was +impossible to get rid of them; if you threw them into the water, the +diabolical ring or necklace would skim along the surface, and into your +hand. + +There was a church in the village,--St. Pantelei, if I remember rightly. +There lived there a priest, Father Athanasii of blessed memory. +Observing that Basavriuk did not come to church, even on Easter, he +determined to reprove him, and impose penance upon him. Well, he hardly +escaped with his life. "Hark ye, pannotche!" [Footnote: Sir] he +thundered in reply, "learn to mind your own business instead of meddling +in other people's, if you don't want that goat's throat of yours stuck +together with boiling kutya." [Footnote: A dish of rice or wheat flour, +with honey and raisins, which is brought to the church on the +celebration of memorial masses] What was to be done with this +unrepentant man? Father Athanasii contented himself with announcing that +any one who should make the acquaintance of Basavriuk would be counted a +Catholic, an enemy of Christ's church, not a member of the human race. + +In this village there was a Cossack named Korzh, who had a laborer whom +people called Peter the Orphan--perhaps because no one remembered either +his father or mother. The church starost, it is true, said that they had +died of the pest in his second year; but my grandfather's aunt would not +hear to that, and tried with all her might to furnish him with parents, +although poor Peter needed them about as much as we need last year's +snow. She said that his father had been in Zaporozhe, taken prisoner by +the Turks, underwent God only knows what tortures, and having, by some +miracle, disguised himself as a eunuch, had made his escape. Little +cared the black-browed youths and maidens about his parents. They merely +remarked, that if he only had a new coat, a red sash, a black lambskin +cap, with dandified blue crown, on his head, a Turkish sabre hanging by +his side, a whip in one hand and a pipe with handsome mountings in the +other, he would surpass all the young men. But the pity was, that the +only thing poor Peter had was a gray svitka with more holes in it than +there are gold-pieces in a Jew's pocket. And that was not the worst of +it, but this: that Korzh had a daughter, such a beauty as I think you +can hardly have chanced to see. My deceased grandfather's aunt used to +say--and you know that it is easier for a woman to kiss the Evil One +than to call anybody a beauty, without malice be it said--that this +Cossack maiden's cheeks were as plump and fresh as the pinkest poppy +when just bathed in God's dew, and, glowing, it unfolds its petals, and +coquets with the rising sun; that her brows were like black cords, such +as our maidens buy nowadays, for their crosses and ducats, of the Moscow +pedlers who visit the villages with their baskets, and evenly arched as +though peeping into her clear eyes; that her little mouth, at sight of +which the youths smacked their lips, seemed made to emit the songs of +nightingales; that her hair, black as the raven's wing, and soft as +young flax (our maidens did not then plait their hair in clubs +interwoven with pretty, bright-hued ribbons) fell in curls over her +kuntush. [Footnote: Upper garment in Little Russia.] Eh! may I never +intone another alleluia in the choir, if I would not have kissed her, in +spite of the gray which is making its way all through the old wool which +covers my pate, and my old woman beside me, like a thorn in my side! +Well, you know what happens when young men and maids live side by side. +In the twilight the heels of red boots were always visible in the place +where Pidorka chatted with her Petrus. But Korzh would never have +suspected anything out of the way, only one day--it is evident that none +but the Evil One could have inspired him--Petrus took it into his head +to kiss the Cossack maiden's rosy lips with all his heart in the +passage, without first looking well about him; and that same Evil One-- +may the son of a dog dream of the holy cross!--caused the old graybeard, +like a fool, to open the cottage-door at that same moment. Korzh was +petrified, dropped his jaw, and clutched at the door for support. Those +unlucky kisses had completely stunned him. It surprised him more than +the blow of a pestle on the wall, with which, in our days, the muzhik +generally drives out his intoxication for lack of fuses and powder. + +Recovering himself, he took his grandfather's hunting-whip from the +wall, and was about to belabor Peter's back with it, when Pidorka's +little six-year-old brother Ivas rushed up from somewhere or other, and, +grasping his father's legs with his little hands, screamed out, "Daddy, +daddy! don't beat Petrus!" What was to be done? A father's heart is not +made of stone. Hanging the whip again upon the wall, he led him quietly +from the house. "If you ever show yourself in my cottage again, or even +under the windows, look out, Petro! by Heaven, your black moustache will +disappear; and your black locks, though wound twice about your ears, +will take leave of your pate, or my name is not Terentiy Korzh." So +saying, he gave him a little taste of his fist in the nape of his neck, +so that all grew dark before Petrus, and he flew headlong. So there was +an end of their kissing. Sorrow seized upon our doves; and a rumor was +rife in the village, that a certain Pole, all embroidered with gold, +with moustaches, sabres, spurs, and pockets jingling like the bells of +the bag with which our sacristan Taras goes through the church every +day, had begun to frequent Korzh's house. Now, it is well known why the +father is visited when there is a black-browed daughter about. So, one +day, Pidorka burst into tears, and clutched the hand of her Ivas. "Ivas, +my dear! Ivas, my love! fly to Petrus, my child of gold, like an arrow +from a bow. Tell him all: I would have loved his brown eyes, I would +have kissed his white face, but my fate decrees not so. More than one +towel have I wet with burning tears. I am sad, I am heavy at heart. And +my own father is my enemy. I will not marry that Pole, whom I do not +love. Tell him they are preparing a wedding, but there will be no music +at our wedding: ecclesiastics will sing instead of pipes and kobzas. +[Footnote: Eight-stringed musical instrument.] I shall not dance with my +bridegroom: they will carry me out. Dark, dark will be my dwelling,--of +maple wood; and, instead of chimneys, a cross will stand upon the roof." + +Petro stood petrified, without moving from the spot, when the innocent +child lisped out Pidorka's words to him. "And I, unhappy man, thought to +go to the Crimea and Turkey, win gold and return to thee, my beauty! But +it may not be. The evil eye has seen us. I will have a wedding, too, +dear little fish, I too; but no ecclesiastics will be at that wedding. +The black crow will caw, instead of the pope, over me; the smooth field +will be my dwelling; the dark blue clouds my roof-tree. The eagle will +claw out my brown eyes: the rain will wash the Cossack's bones, and the +whirlwinds will dry them. But what am I? Of whom, to whom, am I +complaining? 'T is plain, God willed it so. If I am to be lost, then so +be it!" and he went straight to the tavern. + +My late grandfather's aunt was somewhat surprised on seeing Petrus in +the tavern, and at an hour when good men go to morning mass; and she +stared at him as though in a dream, when he demanded a jug of brandy, +about half a pailful. But the poor fellow tried in vain to drown his +woe. The vodka stung his tongue like nettles, and tasted more bitter +than wormwood. He flung the jug from him upon the ground. "You have +sorrowed enough, Cossack," growled a bass voice behind him. He looked +round--Basavriuk! Ugh, what a face! His hair was like a brush, his eyes +like those of a bull. "I know what you lack: here it is." Then he +jingled a leather purse which hung from his girdle, and smiled +diabolically. Petro shuddered. "He, he, he! yes, how it shines!" he +roared, shaking out ducats into his hand: "he, he, he! and how it +jingles! And I only ask one thing for a whole pile of such shiners."-- +"It is the Evil One!" exclaimed Petro: "Give them here! I'm ready for +anything!" They struck hands upon it. "See here, Petro, you are ripe +just in time: to-morrow is St. John the Baptist's day. Only on this one +night in the year does the fern blossom. Delay not. I will await thee at +midnight in the Bear's ravine." + +I do not believe that chickens await the hour when the woman brings +their corn with as much anxiety as Petrus awaited the evening. And, in +fact, he looked to see whether the shadows of the trees were not +lengthening, if the sun were not turning red towards setting; and the +longer he watched, the more impatient he grew. How long it was! +Evidently, God's day had lost its end somewhere. And now the sun is +gone. The sky is red only on one side, and it is already growing dark. +It grows colder in the fields. It gets dusky and more dusky, and at last +quite dark. At last! With heart almost bursting from his bosom, he set +out on his way, and cautiously descended through the dense woods into +the deep hollow called the Bear's ravine. Basavriuk was already waiting +there. It was so dark, that you could not see a yard before you. Hand in +hand they penetrated the thin marsh, clinging to the luxuriant thorn +bushes, and stumbling at almost every step. At last they reached an open +spot. Petro looked about him: he had never chanced to come there before. +Here Basavriuk halted. + +"Do you see, before you stand three hillocks? There are a great many +sorts of flowers upon them. But may some power keep you from plucking +even one of them. But as soon as the fern blossoms, seize it, and look +not round, no matter what may seem to be going on behind thee." + +Petro wanted to ask--and behold he was no longer there. He approached +the three hillocks--where were the flowers? He saw nothing. The wild +steppe-grass darkled around, and stifled everything in its luxuriance. +But the lightning flashed; and before him stood a whole bed of flowers, +all wonderful, all strange: and there were also the simple fronds of +fern. Petro doubted his senses, and stood thoughtfully before them, with +both hands upon his sides. + +"What prodigy is this? one can see these weeds ten times in a day: what +marvel is there about them? was not devil's-face laughing at me?" + +Behold! the tiny flower-bud crimsons, and moves as though alive. It is a +marvel, in truth. It moves, and grows larger and larger, and flushes +like a burning coal. The tiny star flashes up, something bursts softly, +and the flower opens before his eyes like a flame, lighting the others +about it. "Now is the time," thought Petro, and extended his hand. He +sees hundreds of shaggy hands reach from behind him, also for the +flower; and there is a running about from place to place, in the rear. +He half shut his eyes, plucked sharply at the stalk, and the flower +remained in his hand. All became still. Upon a stump sat Basavriuk, all +blue like a corpse. He moved not so much as a finger. His eyes were +immovably fixed on something visible to him alone: his mouth was half +open and speechless. All about, nothing stirred. Ugh! it was horrible!-- +But then a whistle was heard, which made Petro's heart grow cold within +him; and it seemed to him that the grass whispered, and the flowers +began to talk among themselves in delicate voices, like little silver +bells; the trees rustled in waving contention;--Basavriuk's face +suddenly became full of life, and his eyes sparkled. "The witch has just +returned," he muttered between his teeth. "See here, Petro: a beauty +will stand before you in a moment; do whatever she commands; if not--you +are lost for ever." Then he parted the thorn-bush with a knotty stick, +and before him stood a tiny izba, on chicken's legs, as they say. +Basavriuk smote it with his fist, and the wall trembled. A large black +dog ran out to meet them, and with a whine, transforming itself into a +cat, flew straight at his eyes. "Don't be angry, don't be angry, you old +Satan!" said Basavriuk, employing such words as would have made a good +man stop his ears. Behold, instead of a cat, an old woman with a face +wrinkled like a baked apple, and all bent into a bow: her nose and chin +were like a pair of nut-crackers. "A stunning beauty!" thought Petro; +and cold chills ran down his back. The witch tore the flower from his +hand, bent over, and muttered over it for a long time, sprinkling it +with some kind of water. Sparks flew from her mouth, froth appeared on +her lips. + +"Throw it away," she said, giving it back to Petro. + +Petro threw it, and what wonder was this? the flower did not fall +straight to the earth, but for a long while twinkled like a fiery ball +through the darkness, and swam through the air like a boat: at last it +began to sink lower and lower, and fell so far away, that the little +star, hardly larger than a poppy-seed, was barely visible. "Here!" +croaked the old woman, in a dull voice: and Basavriuk, giving him a +spade, said: "Dig here, Petro: here you will see more gold than you or +Korzh ever dreamed of." + +Petro spat on his hands, seized the spade, applied his foot, and turned +up the earth, a second, a third, a fourth time. . . . There was something +hard: the spade clinked, and would go no farther. Then his eyes began to +distinguish a small, iron-bound coffer. He tried to seize it; but the +chest began to sink into the earth, deeper, farther, and deeper still: +and behind him he heard a laugh, more like a serpent's hiss. "No, you +shall not see the gold until you procure human blood," said the witch, +and led up to him a child of six, covered with a white sheet, indicating +by a sign that he was to cut off his head. Petro was stunned. A trifle, +indeed, to cut off a man's, or even an innocent child's, head for no +reason whatever! In wrath he tore off the sheet enveloping his head, and +behold! before him stood Ivas. And the poor child crossed his little +hands, and hung his head. . . . Petro flew upon the witch with the knife +like a madman, and was on the point of laying hands on her. . . . + +"What did you promise for the girl?" . . . thundered Basavriuk; and like a +shot he was on his back. The witch stamped her foot: a blue flame +flashed from the earth; it illumined it all inside, and it was as if +moulded of crystal; and all that was within the earth became visible, as +if in the palm of the hand. Ducats, precious stones in chests and +kettles, were piled in heaps beneath the very spot they stood on. His +eyes burned, . . . his mind grew troubled. . . . He grasped the knife like +a madman, and the innocent blood spurted into his eyes. Diabolical +laughter resounded on all sides. Misshaped monsters flew past him in +herds. The witch, fastening her hands in the headless trunk, like a wolf +drank its blood. . . . All went round in his head. Collecting all his +strength, he set out to run. Everything turned red before him. The trees +seemed steeped in blood, and burned and groaned. The sky glowed and +glowered. . . . Burning points, like lightning, flickered before his eyes. +Utterly exhausted, he rushed into his miserable hovel, and fell to the +ground like a log. A death-like sleep overpowered him. + +Two days and two nights did Petro sleep, without once awakening. When he +came to himself, on the third day, he looked long at all the corners of +his hut; but in vain did he endeavor to recollect; his memory was like a +miser's pocket, from which you cannot entice a quarter of a kopek. +Stretching himself, he heard something clash at his feet. He looked, . . . +two bags of gold. Then only, as if in a dream, he recollected that he +had been seeking some treasure, that something had frightened him in the +woods. . . . But at what price he had obtained it, and how, he could by no +means understand. + +Korzh saw the sacks,--and was mollified. "Such a Petrus, quite unheard +of! yes, and did I not love him? Was he not to me as my own son?" And +the old fellow carried on his fiction until it reduced him to tears. +Pidorka began to tell him how some passing gypsies had stolen Ivas; but +Petro could not even recall him--to such a degree had the Devil's +influence darkened his mind! There was no reason for delay. The Pole was +dismissed, and the wedding-feast prepared; rolls were baked, towels and +handkerchiefs embroidered; the young people were seated at table; the +wedding-loaf was cut; banduras, cymbals, pipes, kobzi, sounded, and +pleasure was rife . . . + +A wedding in the olden times was not like one of the present day. My +grandfather's aunt used to tell--what doings!--how the maidens--in +festive head-dresses of yellow, blue, and pink ribbons, above which they +bound gold braid; in thin chemisettes embroidered on all the seams with +red silk, and strewn with tiny silver flowers; in morocco shoes, with +high iron heels--danced the gorlitza as swimmingly as peacocks, and as +wildly as the whirlwind; how the youths--with their ship-shaped caps +upon their heads, the crowns of gold brocade, with a little slit at the +nape where the hair-net peeped through, and two horns projecting, one in +front and another behind, of the very finest black lambskin; in +kuntushas of the finest blue silk with red borders--stepped forward one +by one, their arms akimbo in stately form, and executed the gopak; how +the lads--in tall Cossack caps, and light cloth svitkas, girt with +silver embroidered belts, their short pipes in their teeth--skipped +before them, and talked nonsense. Even Korzh could not contain himself, +as he gazed at the young people, from getting gay in his old age. +Bandura in hand, alternately puffing at his pipe and singing, a brandy- +glass upon his head, the gray-beard began the national dance amid loud +shouts from the merry-makers. What will not people devise in merry mood! +They even began to disguise their faces. They did not look like human +beings. They are not to be compared with the disguises which we have at +our weddings nowadays. What do they do now? Why, imitate gypsies and +Moscow pedlers. No! then one used to dress himself as a Jew, another as +the Devil: they would begin by kissing each other, and ended by seizing +each other by the hair. . . . God be with them! you laughed till you held +your sides. They dressed themselves in Turkish and Tartar garments. All +upon them glowed like a conflagration, . . . and then they began to joke +and play pranks. . . . Well, then away with the saints! An amusing thing +happened to my grandfather's aunt, who was at this wedding. She was +dressed in a voluminous Tartar robe, and, wine-glass in hand, was +entertaining the company. The Evil One instigated one man to pour vodka +over her from behind. Another, at the same moment, evidently not by +accident, struck a light, and touched it to her; . . . the flame flashed +up; poor aunt, in terror, flung her robe from her, before them all. . . . +Screams, laughter, jest, arose, as if at a fair. In a word, the old +folks could not recall so merry a wedding. + +Pidorka and Petrus began to live like a gentleman and lady. There was +plenty of everything, and everything was handsome. . . . But honest people +shook their heads when they looked at their way of living. "From the +Devil no good can come," they unanimously agreed. "Whence, except from +the tempter of orthodox people, came this wealth? Where else could he +get such a lot of gold? Why, on the very day that he got rich, did +Basavriuk vanish as if into thin air?" Say, if you can, that people +imagine things! In fact, a month had not passed, and no one would have +recognized Petrus. Why, what had happened to him? God knows. He sits in +one spot, and says no word to any one: he thinks continually, and seems +to be trying to recall something. When Pidorka succeeds in getting him to +speak, he seems to forget himself, carries on a conversation, and even +grows cheerful; but if he inadvertently glances at the sacks, "Stop, +stop! I have forgotten," he cries, and again plunges into reverie, and +again strives to recall something. Sometimes when he has sat long in a +place, it seems to him as though it were coming, just coming back to +mind, . . . and again all fades away. It seems as if he is sitting in the +tavern: they bring him vodka; vodka stings him; vodka is repulsive to +him. Some one comes along, and strikes him on the shoulder; . . . but +beyond that everything is veiled in darkness before him. The +perspiration streams down his face, and he sits exhausted in the same +place. + +What did not Pidorka do? She consulted the sorceress; and they poured +out fear, and brewed stomach ache,[Footnote: "To pour out fear," is done +with us in case of fear; when it is desired to know what caused it, +melted lead or wax is poured into water, and the object whose form it +assumes is the one which frightened the sick person; after this, the +fear departs. Sonyashnitza is brewed for giddiness, and pain in the +bowels. To this end, a bit of stump is burned, thrown into a jug, and +turned upside down into a bowl filled with water, which is placed on the +patient's stomach: after an incantation, he is given a spoonful of this +water to drink.]--but all to no avail. And so the summer passed. Many a +Cossack had mowed and reaped: many a Cossack, more enterprising than the +rest, had set off upon an expedition. Flocks of ducks were already +crowding our marshes, but there was not even a hint of improvement. + +It was red upon the steppes. Ricks of grain, like Cossacks' caps, dotted +the fields here and there. On the highway were to be encountered wagons +loaded with brushwood and logs. The ground had become more solid, and in +places was touched with frost. Already had the snow begun to besprinkle +the sky, and the branches of the trees were covered with rime like +rabbit-skin. Already on frosty days the red-breasted finch hopped about +on the snow-heaps like a foppish Polish nobleman, and picked out grains +of corn; and children, with huge sticks, chased wooden tops upon the +ice; while their fathers lay quietly on the stove, issuing forth at +intervals with lighted pipes in their lips, to growl, in regular +fashion, at the orthodox frost, or to take the air, and thresh the grain +spread out in the barn. At last the snow began to melt, and the ice rind +slipped away: but Petro remained the same; and, the longer it went on, +the more morose he grew. He sat in the middle of the cottage as though +nailed to the spot, with the sacks of gold at his feet. He grew shy, his +hair grew long, he became terrible; and still he thought of but one +thing, still he tried to recall something, and got angry and ill- +tempered because he could not recall it. Often, rising wildly from his +seat, he gesticulates violently, fixes his eyes on something as though +desirous of catching it: his lips move as though desirous of uttering +some long-forgotten word--and remain speechless. Fury takes possession +of him: he gnaws and bites his hands like a man half crazy, and in his +vexation tears out his hair by the handful, until, calming down, he +falls into forgetfulness, as it were, and again begins to recall, and is +again seized with fury and fresh tortures. . . . What visitation of God is +this? + +Pidorka was neither dead nor alive. At first it was horrible to her to +remain alone in the cottage; but, in course of time, the poor woman grew +accustomed to her sorrow. But it was impossible to recognize the Pidorka +of former days. No blush, no smile: she was thin and worn with grief, +and had wept her bright eyes away. Once, some one who evidently took +pity on her advised her to go to the witch who dwelt in the Bear's +ravine, and enjoyed the reputation of being able to cure every disease +in the world. She determined to try this last remedy: word by word she +persuaded the old woman to come to her. This was St. John's Eve, as it +chanced. Petro lay insensible on the bench, and did not observe the new- +comer. Little by little he rose, and looked about him. Suddenly he +trembled in every limb, as though he were on the scaffold: his hair rose +upon his head, . . . and he laughed such a laugh as pierced Pidorka's heart +with fear. "I have remembered, remembered!" he cried in terrible joy; +and, swinging a hatchet round his head, he flung it at the old woman +with all his might. The hatchet penetrated the oaken door two vershok +(three inches and a half). The old woman disappeared; and a child of +seven in a white blouse, with covered head, stood in the middle of the +cottage. . . . The sheet flew off. "Ivas!" cried Pidorka, and ran to him; +but the apparition became covered from head to foot with blood, and +illumined the whole room with red light. . . . She ran into the passage in +her terror, but, on recovering herself a little, wished to help him; in +vain! the door had slammed to behind her so securely that she could not +open it. People ran up, and began to knock: they broke in the door, as +though there was but one mind among them. The whole cottage was full of +smoke; and just in the middle, where Petrus had stood, was a heap of +ashes, from which smoke was still rising. They flung themselves upon the +sacks: only broken potsherds lay there instead of ducats. The Cossacks +stood with staring eyes and open mouths, not daring to move a hair, as +if rooted to the earth, such terror did this wonder inspire in them. + +I do not remember what happened next. Pidorka took a vow to go upon a +pilgrimage, collected the property left her by her father, and in a few +days it was as if she had never been in the village. Whither she had +gone, no one could tell. Officious old women would have despatched her +to the same place whither Petro had gone; but a Cossack from Kief +reported that he had seen in a cloister, a nun withered to a mere +skeleton, who prayed unceasingly; and her fellow villagers recognized +her as Pidorka, by all the signs,--that no one had ever heard her utter +a word; that she had come on foot, and had brought a frame for the ikon +of God's mother, set with such brilliant stones that all were dazzled at +the sight. + +But this was not the end, if you please. On the same day that the Evil +One made way with Petrus, Basavriuk appeared again; but all fled from +him. They knew what sort of a bird he was,--none else than Satan, who +had assumed human form in order to unearth treasures; and, since +treasures do not yield to unclean hands, he seduced the young. That same +year, all deserted their earth huts, and collected in a village; but, +even there, there was no peace, on account of that accursed Basavriuk. +My late grandfather's aunt said that he was particularly angry with her, +because she had abandoned her former tavern, and tried with all his +might to revenge himself upon her. Once the village elders were +assembled in the tavern, and, as the saying goes, were arranging the +precedence at the table, in the middle of which was placed a small +roasted lamb, shame to say. They chattered about this, that, and the +other,--among the rest about various marvels and strange things. Well, +they saw something; it would have been nothing if only one had seen it, +but all saw it; and it was this: the sheep raised his head; his goggling +eyes became alive and sparkled; and the black, bristling moustache, +which appeared for one instant, made a significant gesture at those +present. All, at once, recognized Basavriuk's countenance in the sheep's +head: my grandfather's aunt thought it was on the point of asking for +vodka. . . . The worthy elders seized their hats, and hastened home. + +Another time, the church starost [Footnote: Elder] himself, who was +fond of an occasional private interview with my grandfather's brandy- +glass, had not succeeded in getting to the bottom twice, when he beheld +the glass bowing very low to him. "Satan take you, let us make the sign +of the cross over you!" . . . And the same marvel happened to his better- +half. She had just begun to mix the dough in a huge kneading-trough, +when suddenly the trough sprang up. "Stop, stop! where are you going?" +Putting its arms akimbo, with dignity, it went skipping all about the +cottage. . . . You may laugh, but it was no laughing-matter to our +grandfathers. And in vain did Father Athanasii go through all the +village with holy water, and chase the Devil through all the streets +with his brush; and my late grandfather's aunt long complained that, as +soon as it was dark, some one came knocking at her door, and scratching +at the wall. + +Well! All appears to be quiet now, in the place where our village +stands; but it was not so very long ago--my father was still alive--that +I remember how a good man could not pass the ruined tavern, which a +dishonest race had long managed for their own interest. From the smoke- +blackened chimneys, smoke poured out in a pillar, and rising high in the +air, as if to take an observation, rolled off like a cap, scattering +burning coals over the steppe; and Satan (the son of a dog should not be +mentioned) sobbed so pitifully in his lair, that the startled ravens +rose in flocks from the neighboring oak-wood, and flew through the air +with wild cries. + + + + + + +AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE + +BY + +COUNT LYOF N. TOLSTOI + +From "The Invaders." Translated by N. H. Dole. + +1887 + +(Prince Nekhiludof Relates how, during an Expedition in the Caucasus, +he met an Acquaintance from Moscow) + + + + +Our division had been out in the field. The work in hand was +accomplished: we had cut a way through the forest, and each day we were +expecting from headquarters orders for our return to the fort. Our +division of fieldpieces was stationed at the top of a steep mountain- +crest which was terminated by the swift mountain-river Mechik, and had +to command the plain that stretched before us. Here and there on this +picturesque plain, out of the reach of gunshot, now and then, especially +at evening, groups of mounted mountaineers showed themselves, attracted +by curiosity to ride up and view the Russian camp. + +The evening was clear, mild, and fresh, as it is apt to be in December +in the Caucasus; the sun was setting behind the steep chain of the +mountains at the left, and threw rosy rays upon the tents scattered over +the slope, upon the soldiers moving about, and upon our two guns, which +seemed to crane their necks as they rested motionless on the earthwork +two paces from us. The infantry picket, stationed on the knoll at the +left, stood in perfect silhouette against the light of the sunset; no +less distinct were the stacks of muskets, the form of the sentry, the +groups of soldiers, and the smoke of the smouldering camp-fire. + +At the right and left of the slope, on the black, sodden earth, the +tents gleamed white; and behind the tents, black, stood the bare trunks +of the platane forest, which rang with the incessant sound of axes, the +crackling of the bonfires, and the crashing of the trees as they fell +under the axes. The bluish smoke arose from tobacco-pipes on all sides, +and vanished in the transparent blue of the frosty sky. By the tents and +on the lower ground around the arms rushed the Cossacks, dragoons, and +artillerists, with great galloping and snorting of horses as they +returned from getting water. It began to freeze; all sounds were heard +with extraordinary distinctness, and one could see an immense distance +across the plain through the clear, rare atmosphere. The groups of the +enemy, their curiosity at seeing the soldiers satisfied, quietly +galloped off across the fields, still yellow with the golden corn- +stubble, toward their auls, or villages, which were visible beyond the +forest, with the tall posts of the cemeteries and the smoke rising in +the air. + +Our tent was pitched not far from the guns on a place high and dry, from +which we had a remarkably extended view. Near the tent, on a cleared +space, around the battery itself, we had our games of skittles, or +chushki. The obliging soldiers had made for us rustic benches and +tables. On account of all these amusements, the artillery officers, our +comrades, and a few infantry men liked to gather of an evening around +our battery, and the place came to be called the club. + +As the evening was fine, the best players had come, and we were amusing +ourselves with skittles [Footnote: Gorodki]. Ensign D., Lieutenant O., +and myself had played two games in succession; and to the common +satisfaction and amusement of all the spectators, officers, soldiers, +and servants [Footnote: Denshchiki ] who were watching us from their +tents, we had twice carried the winning party on our backs from one end +of the ground to the other. Especially droll was the situation of the +huge fat Captain S., who, puffing and smiling good-naturedly, with legs +dragging on the ground, rode pickaback on the feeble little Lieutenant +O. + +When it grew somewhat later, the servants brought three glasses of tea +for the six men of us, and not a spoon; and we who had finished our game +came to the plaited settees. + +There was standing near them a small bow-legged man, a stranger to us, +in a sheepskin jacket, and a papakha, or Circassian cap, with a long +overhanging white crown. As soon as we came near where he stood, he took +a few irresolute steps, and put on his cap; and several times he seemed +to make up his mind to come to meet us, and then stopped again. But +after deciding, probably, that it was impossible to remain irresolute, +the stranger took off his cap, and, going in a circuit around us, +approached Captain S. + +"Ah, Guskantinli, how is it, old man?" [Footnote: Nu chto, batenka,] +said S., still smiling good-naturedly, under the influence of his ride. + +Guskantni, as S. called him, instantly replaced his cap, and made a +motion as though to thrust his hands into the pockets of his jacket; +[Footnote: Polushubok, little half shuba, or fur cloak.] but on the side +toward me there was no pocket in the jacket, and his small red hand fell +into an awkward position. I felt a strong desire to make out who this +man was (was he a yunker, or a degraded officer?), and, not realizing +that my gaze (that is, the gaze of a strange officer) disconcerted him, +I continued to stare at his dress and appearance. + +I judged that he was about thirty. His small, round, gray eyes had a +sleepy expression, and at the same time gazed calmly out from under the +dirty white lambskin of his cap, which hung down over his face. His +thick, irregular nose, standing out between his sunken cheeks, gave +evidence of emaciation that was the result of illness, and not natural. +His restless lips, barely covered by a sparse, soft, whitish moustache, +were constantly changing their shape as though they were trying to +assume now one expression, now another. But all these expressions seemed +to be endless, and his face retained one predominating expression of +timidity and fright. Around his thin neck, where the veins stood out, +was tied a green woollen scarf tucked into his jacket, his fur jacket, +or polushubok, was worn bare, short, and had dog-fur sewed on the collar +and on the false pockets. The trousers were checkered, of ash-gray +color, and his sapogi had short, unblacked military bootlegs. + +"I beg of you, do not disturb yourself," said I when he for the second +time, timidly glancing at me, had taken off his cap. + +He bowed to me with an expression of gratitude, replaced his hat, and, +drawing from his pocket a dirty chintz tobacco-pouch with lacings, began +to roll a cigarette. + +I myself had not been long a yunker, an elderly yunker; and as I was +incapable, as yet, of being good-naturedly serviceable to my younger +comrades, and without means, I well knew all the moral difficulties of +this situation for a proud man no longer young, and I sympathized with +all men who found themselves in such a situation, and I endeavored to +make clear to myself their character and rank, and the tendencies of +their intellectual peculiarities, in order to judge of the degree of +their moral sufferings. This yunker or degraded officer, judging by his +restless eyes and that intentionally constant variation of expression +which I noticed in him, was a man very far from stupid, and extremely +egotistical, and therefore much to be pitied. + +Captain S. invited us to play another game of skittles, with the stakes +to consist, not only of the usual pickaback ride of the winning party, +but also of a few bottles of red wine, rum, sugar, cinnamon, and cloves +for the mulled wine which that winter, on account of the cold, was +greatly popular in our division. + +Guskantini, as S. again called him, was also invited to take part; but +before the game began, the man, struggling between gratification because +he had been invited and a certain timidity, drew Captain S. aside, and +began to say something in a whisper. The good-natured captain punched +him in the ribs with his big, fat hand, and replied, loud enough to be +heard: + +"Not at all, old fellow [Footnote: Batenka, Malo-Russian diminutive, +little father], I assure you." + +When the game was over, and that side in which the stranger whose rank +was so low had taken part, had come out winners, and it fell to his lot +to ride on one of our officers, Ensign D., the ensign grew red in the +face: he went to the little divan and offered the stranger a cigarette +by way of a compromise. + +While they were ordering the mulled wine, and in the steward's tent were +heard assiduous preparations on the part of Nikita, who had sent an +orderly for cinnamon and cloves, and the shadow of his back was +alternately lengthening and shortening on the dingy sides of the tent, +we men, seven in all, sat around on the benches; and while we took turns +in drinking tea from the three glasses, and gazed out over the plain, +which was now beginning to glow in the twilight, we talked and laughed +over the various incidents of the game. + +The stranger in the fur jacket took no share in the conversation, +obstinately refused to drink the tea which I several times offered him, +and as he sat there on the ground in Tartar fashion, occupied himself in +making cigarettes of fine-cut tobacco, and smoking them one after +another, evidently not so much for his own satisfaction as to give +himself the appearance of a man with something to do. When it was +remarked that the summons to return was expected on the morrow, and that +there might be an engagement, he lifted himself on his knees, and, +addressing Captain B. only, said that he had been at the adjutant's, and +had himself written the order for the return on the next day. We all +said nothing while he was speaking; and notwithstanding the fact that he +was so bashful, we begged him to repeat this most interesting piece of +news. He repeated what he had said, adding only that he had been +staying at the adjutant's (since he made it his home there) when the +order came. + +"Look here, old fellow, if you are not telling us false, I shall have to +go to my company and give some orders for to-morrow," said Captain S. + +"No . . . why . . . it may be, I am sure," . . . stammered the stranger, +but suddenly stopped, and, apparently feeling himself affronted, contracted +his brows, and, muttering something between his teeth, again began to +roll a cigarette. But the fine-cut tobacco in his chintz pouch began to +show signs of giving out, and he asked S. to lend him a little +cigarette. [Footnote: PAPIROSTCHKA, diminished diminutive of PAPIROSKA, +from PAPIROS.] + +We kept on for a considerable time with that monotonous military chatter +which every one who has ever been on an expedition will appreciate; all +of us, with one and the same expression, complaining of the dullness and +length of the expedition, in one and the same fashion sitting in +judgment on our superiors, and all of us likewise, as we had done many +times before, praising one comrade, pitying another, wondering how much +this one had gained, how much that one had lost, and so on, and so on. + +"Here, fellows, this adjutant of ours is completely broken up," said +Captain S. "At headquarters he was everlastingly on the winning side; no +matter whom he sat down with, he'd rake in everything: but now for two +months past he has been losing all the time. The present expedition +hasn't been lucky for him. I think he has got away with two thousand +silver rubles and five hundred rubles' worth of articles,--the carpet +that he won at Mukhin's, Nikitin's pistols, Sada's gold watch which +Vorontsof gave him. He has lost it all." + +"The truth of the matter in his case," said Lieutenant O., "was that he +used to cheat everybody; it was impossible to play with him." + +"He cheated every one, but now it's all gone up in his pipe;" and here +Captain S. laughed good-naturedly. "Our friend Guskof here lives with +him. He hasn't quite lost HIM yet: that's so, isn't it, old fellow?" +[Footnote: Batenka] he asked, addressing Guskof. + +Guskof tried to laugh. It was a melancholy, sickly laugh, which +completely changed the expression of his countenance. Till this moment +it had seemed to me that I had seen and known this man before; and, +besides the name Guskof, by which Captain S. called him, was familiar to +me; but how and when I had seen and known him, I actually could not +remember. + +"Yes," said Guskof, incessantly putting his hand to his moustaches, but +instantly dropping it again without touching them. "Pavel Dmitrievitch's +luck has been against him in this expedition, such a veine de malheur" +he added in a careful but pure French pronunciation, again giving me to +think that I had seen him, and seen him often, somewhere. "I know Pavel +Dmitrievitch very well. He has great confidence in me," he proceeded to +say; "he and I are old friends; that is, he is fond of me," he +explained, evidently fearing that it might be taken as presumption for +him to claim old friendship with the adjutant. "Pavel Dmitrievitch plays +admirably; but now, strange as it may seem, it's all up with him, he is +just about perfectly ruined; la chance a tourne," he added, addressing +himself particularly to me. + +At first we had listened to Guskof with condescending attention; but as +soon as he made use of that second French phrase, we all involuntarily +turned from him. + +"I have played with him a thousand times, and we agreed then that it was +strange," said Lieutenant O., with peculiar emphasis on the word STRANGE +[Footnote: Stranno]. "I never once won a ruble from him. Why was it, +when I used to win of others?" + +"Pavel Dmitrievitch plays admirably: I have known him for a long time," +said I. In fact, I had known the adjutant for several years; more than +once I had seen him in the full swing of a game, surrounded by officers, +and I had remarked his handsome, rather gloomy and always passionless +calm face, his deliberate Malo-Russian pronunciation, his handsome +belongings and horses, his bold, manly figure, and above all his skill +and self-restraint in carrying on the game accurately and agreeably. +More than once, I am sorry to say, as I looked at his plump white hands +with a diamond ring on the index-finger, passing out one card after +another, I grew angry with that ring, with his white hands, with the +whole of the adjutant's person, and evil thoughts on his account arose +in my mind. But as I afterwards reconsidered the matter coolly, I +persuaded myself that he played more skilfully than all with whom he +happened to play: the more so, because as I heard his general +observations concerning the game,--how one ought not to back out when +one had laid the smallest stake, how one ought not to leave off in +certain cases as the first rule for honest men, and so forth, and so +forth,--it was evident that he was always on the winning side merely +from the fact that he played more sagaciously and coolly than the rest +of us. And now it seemed that this self-reliant, careful player had been +stripped not only of his money but of his effects, which marks the +lowest depths of loss for an officer. + +"He always had devilish good luck with me," said Lieutenant O. "I made a +vow never to play with him again." + +"What a marvel you are, old fellow!" said S., nodding at me, and +addressing O. "You lost three hundred silver rubles, that's what you +lost to him." + +"More than that," said the lieutenant savagely. + +"And now you have come to your senses; it is rather late in the day, old +man, for the rest of us have known for a long time that he was the cheat +of the regiment," said S., with difficulty restraining his laughter, and +feeling very well satisfied with his fabrication. "Here is Guskof right +here,--he FIXES his cards for him. That's the reason of the friendship +between them, old man" [Footnote: BATENKA MOI] . . . and Captain S., +shaking all over, burst out into such a hearty "ha, ha, ha!" that he +spilt the glass of mulled wine which he was holding in his hand. On +Guskof's pale emaciated face there showed something like a color; he +opened his mouth several times, raised his hands to his moustaches, and +once more dropped them to his side where the pockets should have been, +stood up, and then sat down again, and finally in an unnatural voice +said to S.: + +"It's no joke, Nikolai Ivanovitch, for you to say such things before +people who don't know me and who see me in this unlined jacket . . . +because--" His voice failed him, and again his small red hands with +their dirty nails went from his jacket to his face, touching his +moustache, his hair, his nose, rubbing his eyes, or needlessly +scratching his cheek. + +"As to saying that, everybody knows it, old fellow," continued S., +thoroughly satisfied with his jest, and not heeding Guskof's complaint. +Guskof was still trying to say something; and placing the palm of his +right hand on his left knee in a most unnatural position, and gazing at +S., he had an appearance of smiling contemptuously. + +"No," said I to myself, as I noticed that smile of his, "I have not only +seen him, but have spoken with him somewhere." + +"You and I have met somewhere," said I to him when, under the influence +of the common silence, S.'s laughter began to calm down. Guskof's mobile +face suddenly lighted up, and his eyes, for the first time with a truly +joyous expression, rested upon me. + +"Why, I recognized you immediately," he replied in French. "In '48 I had +the pleasure of meeting you quite frequently in Moscow at my sister's." + +I had to apologize for not recognizing him at first in that costume and +in that new garb. He arose, came to me, and with his moist hand +irresolutely and weakly seized my hand, and sat down by me. Instead of +looking at me, though he apparently seemed so glad to see me, he gazed +with an expression of unfriendly bravado at the officers. + +Either because I recognized in him a man whom I had met a few years +before in a dresscoat in a parlor, or because he was suddenly raised in +his own opinion by the fact of being recognized,--at all events it +seemed to me that his face and even his motions completely changed: they +now expressed lively intelligence, a childish self-satisfaction in the +consciousness of such intelligence, and a certain contemptuous +indifference; so that I confess, notwithstanding the pitiable position +in which he found himself, my old acquaintance did not so much excite +sympathy in me as it did a sort of unfavorable sentiment. + +I now vividly remembered our first meeting. In 1848, while I was staying +at Moscow, I frequently went to the house of Ivashin, who from childhood +had been an old friend of mine. His wife was an agreeable hostess, a +charming woman, as everybody said; but she never pleased me. . . . The +winter that I knew her, she often spoke with hardly concealed pride of +her brother, who had shortly before completed his course, and promised +to be one of the most fashionable and popular young men in the best +society of Petersburg. As I knew by reputation the father of the +Guskofs, who was very rich and had a distinguished position, and as I +knew also the sister's ways, I felt some prejudice against meeting the +young man. One evening when I was at Ivashin's, I saw a short, +thoroughly pleasant-looking young man, in a black coat, white vest and +necktie. My host hastened to make me acquainted with him. The young man, +evidently dressed for a ball, with his cap in his hand, was standing +before Ivashin, and was eagerly but politely arguing with him about a +common friend of ours, who had distinguished himself at the time of the +Hungarian campaign. He said that this acquaintance was not at all a hero +or a man born for war, as was said of him, but was simply a clever and +cultivated man. I recollect, I took part in the argument against Guskof, +and went to the extreme of declaring also that intellect and cultivation +always bore an inverse relation to bravery; and I recollect how Guskof +pleasantly and cleverly pointed out to me that bravery was necessarily +the result of intellect and a decided degree of development,--a +statement which I, who considered myself an intellectual and cultivated +man, could not in my heart of hearts agree with. + +I recollect that towards the close of our conversation Madame Ivashina +introduced me to her brother; and he, with a condescending smile, +offered me his little hand on which he had not yet had time to draw his +kid gloves, and weakly and irresolutely pressed my hand as he did now. +Though I had been prejudiced against Guskof, I could not help granting +that he was in the right, and agreeing with his sister that he was +really a clever and agreeable young man, who ought to have great success +in society. He was extraordinarily neat, beautifully dressed, and fresh, +and had affectedly modest manners, and a thoroughly youthful, almost +childish appearance, on account of which you could not help excusing his +expression of self-sufficiency, though it modified the impression of his +high-mightiness caused by his intellectual face and especially his +smile. It is said that he had great success that winter with the high- +born ladies of Moscow. As I saw him at his sister's I could only infer +how far this was true by the feeling of pleasure and contentment +constantly excited in me by his youthful appearance and by his sometimes +indiscreet anecdotes. He and I met half a dozen times, and talked a good +deal; or, rather, he talked a good deal, and I listened. He spoke for +the most part in French, always with a good accent, very fluently and +ornately; and he had the skill of drawing others gently and politely +into the conversation. As a general thing, he behaved toward all, and +toward me, in a somewhat supercilious manner, and I felt that he was +perfectly right in this way of treating people. I always feel that way +in regard to men who are firmly convinced that they ought to treat me +superciliously, and who are comparative strangers to me. + +Now, as he sat with me, and gave me his hand, I keenly recalled in him +that same old haughtiness of expression; and it seemed to me that he did +not properly appreciate his position of official inferiority, as, in the +presence of the officers, he asked me what I had been doing in all that +time, and how I happened to be there. In spite of the fact that I +invariably made my replies in Russian, he kept putting his questions in +French, expressing himself as before in remarkably correct language. +About himself he said fluently that after his unhappy, wretched story +(what the story was, I did not know, and he had not yet told me), he had +been three months under arrest, and then had been sent to the Caucasus +to the N. regiment, and now had been serving three years as a soldier in +that regiment. + +"You would not believe," said he to me in French, "how much I have to +suffer in these regiments from the society of the officers. Still it is +a pleasure to me, that I used to know the adjutant of whom we were just +speaking: he is a good man--it's a fact," he remarked condescendingly. +"I live with him, and that's something of a relief for me. Yes, my dear, +the days fly by, but they aren't all alike," [Footnote: OUI, MON CHER, +LES JOURS SE SUIVENT, MAIS NE SE RESSEMBLENT PAS: in French in the +original.] he added; and suddenly hesitated, reddened, and stood up, as +he caught sight of the adjutant himself coming toward us. + +"It is such a pleasure to meet such a man as you," said Guskof to me in +a whisper as he turned from me. "I should like very, very much, to have +a long talk with you." + +I said that I should be very happy to talk with him, but in reality I +confess that Guskof excited in me a sort of dull pity that was not akin +to sympathy. + +I had a presentiment that I should feel a constraint in a private +conversation with him; but still I was anxious to learn from him several +things, and, above all, why it was, when his father had been so rich, +that he was in poverty, as was evident by his dress and appearance. + +The adjutant greeted us all, including Guskof, and sat down by me in the +seat which the cashiered officer had just vacated. Pavel Dmitrievitch, +who had always been calm and leisurely, a genuine gambler, and a man of +means, was now very different from what he had been in the flowery days +of his success; he seemed to be in haste to go somewhere, kept +constantly glancing at everybody, and it was not five minutes before he +proposed to Lieutenant O., who had sworn off from playing, to set up a +small faro-bank. Lieutenant O. refused, under the pretext of having to +attend to his duties, but in reality because, as he knew that the +adjutant had few possessions and little money left, he did not feel +himself justified in risking his three hundred rubles against a hundred +or even less which the adjutant might stake. + +"Well, Pavel Dmitrievitch," said the lieutenant, anxious to avoid a +repetition of the invitation, "is it true, what they tell us, that we +return to-morrow?" + +"I don't know," replied the adjutant. "Orders came to be in readiness; +but if it's true, then you'd better play a game. I would wager my +Kabarda cloak." + +"No, to-day already" . . . + +"It's a gray one, never been worn; but if you prefer, play for money. +How is that?" + +"Yes, but . . . I should be willing--pray don't think that" . . . said +Lieutenant O., answering the implied suspicion; "but as there may be a +raid or some movement, I must go to bed early." + +The adjutant stood up, and, thrusting his hands into his pockets, +started to go across the grounds. His face assumed its ordinary +expression of coldness and pride, which I admired in him. + +"Won't you have a glass of mulled wine?" I asked him. + +"That might be acceptable," and he came back to me; but Guskof politely +took the glass from me, and handed it to the adjutant, striving at the +same time not to look at him. But as he did not notice the tent-rope, he +stumbled over it, and fell on his hand, dropping the glass. + +"What a bungler!" exclaimed the adjutant, still holding out his hand for +the glass. Everybody burst out laughing, not excepting Guskof, who was +rubbing his hand on his sore knee, which he had somehow struck as he +fell. "That's the way the bear waited on the hermit," continued the +adjutant. "It's the way he waits on me every day. He has pulled up all +the tent-pins; he's always tripping up." + +Guskof, not hearing him, apologized to us, and glanced toward me with a +smile of almost noticeable melancholy, as though saying that I alone +could understand him. He was pitiable to see; but the adjutant, his +protector, seemed, on that very account, to be severe on his messmate, +and did not try to put him at his ease. + +"Well, you're a graceful lad! Where did you think you were going?" + +"Well, who can help tripping over these pins, Pavel Dmitrievitch?" said +Guskof. "You tripped over them yourself the other day." + +"I, old man, [Footnote: batiushka]--I am not of the rank and file, and +such gracefulness is not expected of me." + +"He can be lazy," said Captain S., keeping the ball rolling, "but low- +rank men have to make their legs fly." + +"Ill-timed jest," said Guskof, almost in a whisper, and casting down his +eyes. The adjutant was evidently vexed with his messmate; he listened +with inquisitive attention to every word that he said. + +"He'll have to be sent out into ambuscade again," said he, addressing +S., and pointing to the cashiered officer. + +"Well, there'll be some more tears," said S., laughing. Guskof no longer +looked at me, but acted as though he were going to take some tobacco +from his pouch, though there had been none there for some time. + +"Get ready for the ambuscade, old man," said S., addressing him with +shouts of laughter. "To-day the scouts have brought the news, there'll +be an attack on the camp to-night, so it's necessary to designate the +trusty lads." Guskof's face showed a fleeting smile as though he were +preparing to make some reply, but several times he cast a supplicating +look at S. + +"Well, you know I have been, and I'm ready to go again if I am sent," he +said hastily. + +"Then you'll be sent." + +"Well, I'll go. Isn't that all right?" + +"Yes, as at Arguna, you deserted the ambuscade and threw away your gun," +said the adjutant; and turning from him he began to tell us the orders +for the next day. + +As a matter of fact, we expected from the enemy a cannonade of the camp +that night, and the next day some sort of diversion. While we were still +chatting about various subjects of general interest, the adjutant, as +though from a sudden and unexpected impulse, proposed to Lieutenant O. +to have a little game. The lieutenant most unexpectedly consented; and, +together with S. and the ensign, they went off to the adjutant's tent, +where there was a folding green table with cards on it. The captain, the +commander of our division, went to our tent to sleep; the other +gentlemen also separated, and Guskof and I were left alone. I was not +mistaken, it was really very uncomfortable for me to have a tete-a-tete +with him; I arose involuntarily, and began to promenade up and down on +the battery. Guskof walked in silence by my side, hastily and awkwardly +wheeling around so as not to delay or incommode me. + +"I do not annoy you?" he asked in a soft, mournful voice. So far as I +could see his face in the dim light, it seemed to me deeply thoughtful +and melancholy. + +"Not at all," I replied; but as he did not immediately begin to speak, +and as I did not know what to say to him, we walked in silence a +considerably long time. + +The twilight had now absolutely changed into dark night; over the black +profile of the mountains gleamed the bright evening heat-lightning; over +our heads in the light-blue frosty sky twinkled the little stars; on all +sides gleamed the ruddy flames of the smoking watch-fires; near us, the +white tents stood out in contrast to the frowning blackness of our +earth-works. The light from the nearest watch-fire, around which our +servants, engaged in quiet conversation, were warming themselves, +occasionally flashed on the brass of our heavy guns, and fell on the +form of the sentry, who, wrapped in his cloak, paced with measured tread +along the battery. + +"You cannot imagine what a delight it is for me to talk with such a man +as you are," said Guskof, although as yet he had not spoken a word to +me. "Only one who had been in my position could appreciate it." + +I did not know how to reply to him, and we again relapsed into silence, +although it was evident that he was anxious to talk and have me listen +to him. + +"Why were you . . . why did you suffer this?" I inquired at last, not being +able to invent any better way of breaking the ice. + +"Why, didn't you hear about this wretched business from Metenin?" + +"Yes, a duel, I believe; I did not hear much about it," I replied. "You +see, I have been for some time in the Caucasus." + +"No, it wasn't a duel, but it was a stupid and horrid story. I will tell +you all about it, if you don't know. It happened that the same year that +I met you at my sister's I was living at Petersburg. I must tell you I +had then what they call une position dans le monde,--a position good +enough if it was not brilliant. Mon pere me donnait ten thousand par an. +In '49 I was promised a place in the embassy at Turin; my uncle on my +mother's side had influence, and was always ready to do a great deal for +me. That sort of thing is all past now. J'etais recu dans la meilleure +societe de Petersburg; I might have aspired to any girl in the city. I +was well educated, as we all are who come from the school, but was not +especially cultivated; to be sure, I read a good deal afterwards, mais +j'avais surtout, you know, ce jargon du monde, and, however it came +about, I was looked upon as a leading light among the young men of +Petersburg. What raised me more than all in common estimation, c'est +cette liaison avec Madame D., about which a great deal was said in +Petersburg; but I was frightfully young at that time, and did not prize +these advantages very highly. I was simply young and stupid. What more +did I need? Just then that Metenin had some notoriety--" + +And Guskof went on in the same fashion to relate to me the history of +his misfortunes, which I will omit, as it would not be at all +interesting. + +"Two months I remained under arrest," he continued, "absolutely alone; +and what thoughts did I not have during that time? But, you know, when +it was all over, as though every tie had been broken with the past, then +it became easier for me. Mon pere,--you have heard tell of him, of +course, a man of iron will and strong convictions,--il m'a desherite, +and broken off all intercourse with me. According to his convictions he +had to do as he did, and I don't blame him at all. He was consistent. +Consequently, I have not taken a step to induce him to change his mind. +My sister was abroad. Madame D. is the only one who wrote to me when I +was released, and she sent me assistance; but you understand that I +could not accept it, so that I had none of those little things which +make one's position a little easier, you know,--books, linen, food, +nothing at all. At this time I thought things over and over, and began +to look at life with different eyes. For instance, this noise, this +society gossip about me in Petersburg, did not interest me, did not +flatter me; it all seemed to me ridiculous. I felt that I myself had +been to blame; I was young and indiscreet; I had spoiled my career, and +I only thought how I might get into the right track again. And I felt +that I had strength and energy enough for it. After my arrest, as I told +you, I was sent here to the Caucasus to the N. regiment. + +"I thought," he went on to say, all the time becoming more and more +animated,--"I thought that here in the Caucasus, la vie de camp, the +simple, honest men with whom I should associate, and war and danger, +would all admirably agree with my mental state, so that I might begin a +new life. They will see me under fire. [Footnote: On me verra au feu.] I +shall make myself liked; I shall be respected for my real self,--the +cross--non-commissioned officer; they will relieve me of my fine; and I +shall get up again, et vous savez avec ce prestige du malheur! But, quel +desenchantement! You can't imagine how I have been deceived! You know +what sort of men the officers of our regiment are." + +He did not speak for some little time, waiting, as it appeared, for me +to tell him that I knew the society of our officers here was bad; but I +made him no reply. It went against my grain that he should expect me, +because I knew French, forsooth, to be obliged to take issue with the +society of the officers, which, during my long residence in the +Caucasus, I had had time enough to appreciate fully, and for which I had +far higher respect than for the society from which Mr. Guskof had +sprung. I wanted to tell him so, but his position constrained me. + +"In the N. regiment the society of the officers is a thousand times +worse than it is here," he continued. "I hope that it is saying a good +deal; J'ESPERE QUE C'EST BEAUCOUP DIRE; that is, you cannot imagine what +it is. I am not speaking of the yunkers and the soldiers. That is +horrible, it is so bad. At first they received me very kindly, that is +absolutely the truth; but when they saw that I could not help despising +them, you know, in these inconceivably small circumstances, they saw +that I was a man absolutely different, standing far above them, they got +angry with me, and began to put various little humiliations on me. You +haven't an idea what I had to suffer. [Footnote: CE QUE J'AI EUA +SOUFFRIR VOUS NE FAITES PAS UNE IDEE.] Then this forced relationship +with the yunkers, and especially with the small means that I had--I +lacked everything; [Footnote: AVEC LES PETITS MOYENS QUE J'AVAIS, JE +MANQUAIS DE TOUT] I had only what my sister used to send me. And here's +a proof for you! As much as it made me suffer, I with my character, AVEC +MA FIERTE J'AI ECRIS A MON PERE, begged him to send me something. I +understand how living four years of such a life may make a man like our +cashiered Dromof who drinks with soldiers, and writes notes to all the +officers asking them to loan him three rubles, and signing it, TOUT A +VOUS, DROMOF. One must have such a character as I have, not to be mired +in the least by such a horrible position." + +For some time he walked in silence by my side. + +"Have you a cigarette?" [Footnote: "Avez-vous un papiros?"] he asked me. + +"And so I stayed right where I was? Yes. I could not endure it +physically, because, though we were wretched, cold, and ill-fed, I lived +like a common soldier, but still the officers had some sort of +consideration for me. I had still some prestige that they regarded. I +wasn't sent out on guard nor for drill. I could not have stood that. But +morally my sufferings were frightful; and especially because I didn't +see any escape from my position. I wrote my uncle, begged him to get me +transferred to my present regiment, which, at least, sees some service; +and I thought that here Pavel Dmitrievitch, qui est le fils de +l'intendant de mon pere, might be of some use to me. My uncle did this +for me; I was transferred. After that regiment this one seemed to me a +collection of chamberlains. Then Pavel Dmitrievitch was here; he knew +who I was, and I was splendidly received. At my uncle's request--a +Guskof, vous savez; but I forgot that with these men without cultivation +and undeveloped,--they can't appreciate a man, and show him marks of +esteem, unless he has that aureole of wealth, of friends; and I noticed +how, little by little, when they saw that I was poor, their behavior to +me showed more and more indifference until they have come almost to +despise me. It is horrible, but it is absolutely the truth. + +"Here I have been in action, I have fought, they have seen me under +fire," [Footnote: On m'a vu au feu.] he continued; "but when will it all +end? I think, never. And my strength and energy have already begun to +flag. Then I had imagined la guerre, la vie de camp; but it isn't at all +what I see, in a sheepskin jacket, dirty linen, soldier's boots, and you +go out in ambuscade, and the whole night long lie in the ditch with some +Antonof reduced to the ranks for drunkenness, and any minute from behind +the bush may come a rifle-shot and hit you or Antonof,--it's all the +same which. That is not bravery; it's horrible, c'est affreux, it's +killing!" [Footnote: Ca tue] + +"Well, you can be promoted a non-commissioned officer for this campaign, +and next year an ensign," said I. + +"Yes, it may be: they promised me that in two years, and it's not up +yet. What would those two years amount to, if I knew any one! You can +imagine this life with Pavel Dmitrievitch; cards, low jokes, drinking +all the time; if you wish to tell anything that is weighing on your +mind, you would not be understood, or you would be laughed at: they talk +with you, not for the sake of sharing a thought, but to get something +funny out of you. Yes, and so it has gone--in a brutal, beastly way, and +you are always conscious that you belong to the rank and file; they +always make you feel that. Hence you can't realize what an enjoyment it +is to talk a coeur ouvert to such a man as you are." + +I had never imagined what kind of a man I was, and consequently I did +not know what answer to make him. + +"Will you have your lunch now?" asked Nikita at this juncture, +approaching me unseen in the darkness, and, as I could perceive, vexed +at the presence of a guest. "Nothing but curd dumplings, there's none of +the roast beef left." + +"Has the captain had his lunch yet?" + +"He went to bed long ago," replied Nikita, gruffly, "According to my +directions, I was to bring you lunch here and your brandy." He muttered +something else discontentedly, and sauntered off to his tent. After +loitering a while longer, he brought us, nevertheless, a lunch-case; he +placed a candle on the lunch-case, and shielded it from the wind with a +sheet of paper. He brought a saucepan, some mustard in a jar, a tin +dipper with a handle, and a bottle of absinthe. After arranging these +things, Nikita lingered around us for some moments, and looked on as +Guskof and I were drinking the liquor, and it was evidently very +distasteful to him. By the feeble light shed by the candle through the +paper, amid the encircling darkness, could be seen the seal-skin cover +of the lunch-case, the supper arranged upon it, Guskof's sheepskin +jacket, his face, and his small red hands which he used in lifting the +patties from the pan. Everything around us was black; and only by +straining the sight could be seen the dark battery, the dark form of the +sentry moving along the breastwork, on all sides the watch-fires, and on +high the ruddy stars. + +Guskof wore a melancholy, almost guilty smile as though it were awkward +for him to look into my face after his confession. He drank still +another glass of liquor, and ate ravenously, emptying the saucepan. + +"Yes; for you it must be a relief all the same," said I, for the sake of +saying something,--"your acquaintance with the adjutant. He is a very +good man, I have heard." + +"Yes," replied the cashiered officer, "he is a kind man; but he can't +help being what he is, with his education, and it is useless to expect +it." + +A flush seemed suddenly to cross his face. "You remarked his coarse jest +this evening about the ambuscade;" and Guskof, though I tried several +times to interrupt him, began to justify himself before me, and to show +that he had not run away from the ambuscade, and that he was not a +coward as the adjutant and Capt. S. tried to make him out. + +"As I was telling you," he went on to say, wiping his hands on his +jacket, "such people can't show any delicacy toward a man, a common +soldier, who hasn't much money either. That's beyond their strength. And +here recently, while I haven't received anything at all from my sister, +I have been conscious that they have changed toward me. This sheepskin +jacket, which I bought of a soldier, and which hasn't any warmth in it, +because it's all worn off" (and here he showed me where the wool was +gone from the inside), "it doesn't arouse in him any sympathy or +consideration for my unhappiness, but scorn, which he does not take +pains to hide. Whatever my necessities may be, as now when I have +nothing to eat except soldiers' gruel, and nothing to wear," he +continued, casting down his eyes, and pouring out for himself still +another glass of liquor, "he does not even offer to lend me some money, +though he knows perfectly well that I would give it back to him; but he +waits till I am obliged to ask him for it. But you appreciate how it is +for me to go to him. In your case I should say, square and fair, vous +etes audessus de cela, mon cher, je n'ai pas le sou. And you know," said +he, looking straight into my eyes with an expression of desperation, "I +am going to tell you, square and fair, I am in a terrible situation: +pouvez-vous me preter dix rubles argent? My sister ought to send me some +by the mail, et mon pere--" + +"Why, most willingly," said I, although, on the contrary, it was trying +and unpleasant, especially because the evening before, having lost at +cards, I had left only about five rubles in Nikita's care. "In a +moment," said I, arising, "I will go and get it at the tent." + +"No, by and by: ne vous derangez pas." + +Nevertheless, not heeding him, I hastened to the closed tent, where +stood my bed, and where the captain was sleeping. + +"Aleksei Ivanuitch, let me have ten rubles, please, for rations," said I +to the captain, shaking him. + +"What! have you been losing again? But this very evening, you were not +going to play any more," murmured the captain, still half asleep. + +"No, I have not been playing; but I want the money; let me have it, +please." + +"Makatiuk!" shouted the captain to his servant, [Footnote: Denshchik.] +"hand me my bag with the money." + +"Hush, hush!" said I, hearing Guskof's measured steps near the tent. + +"What? Why hush?" + +"Because that cashiered fellow has asked to borrow it of me. He's right +there." + +"Well, if you knew him, you wouldn't let him have it," remarked the +captain. "I have heard about him. He's a dirty, low-lived fellow." + +Nevertheless, the captain gave me the money, ordered his man to put away +the bag, pulled the flap of the tent neatly to, and, again saying, "If +you only knew him, you wouldn't let him have it," drew his head down +under the coverlet. "Now you owe me thirty-two, remember," he shouted +after me. + +When I came out of the tent, Guskof was walking near the settees; and +his slight figure, with his crooked legs, his shapeless cap, his long +white hair, kept appearing and disappearing in the darkness, as he +passed in and out of the light of the candles. He made believe not to +see me. + +I handed him the money. He said "Merci," and, crumpling the bank-bill, +thrust it into his trousers pocket. + +"Now I suppose the game is in full swing at the adjutant's," he began +immediately after this. + +"Yes, I suppose so." + +"He's a wonderful player, always bold, and never backs out. When he's in +luck, it's fine; but when it does not go well with him, he can lose +frightfully. He has given proof of that. During this expedition, if you +reckon his valuables, he has lost more than fifteen hundred rubles. But, +as he played discreetly before, that officer of yours seemed to have +some doubts about his honor." + +"Well, that's because he . . . Nikita, haven't we any of that red Kavkas +wine [Footnote: Chikir] left?" I asked, very much enlivened by Guskof's +conversational talent. Nikita still kept muttering; but he brought us +the red wine, and again looked on angrily as Guskof drained his glass. +In Guskof's behavior was noticeable his old freedom from constraint. I +wished that he would go as soon as possible; it seemed as if his only +reason for not going was because he did not wish to go immediately after +receiving the money. I said nothing. + +"How could you, who have means, and were under no necessity, simply de +gaiete de coeur, make up your mind to come and serve in the Caucasus? +That's what I don't understand," said he to me. + +I endeavored to explain this act of renunciation, which seemed so +strange to him. + +"I can imagine how disagreeable the society of those officers--men +without any comprehension of culture--must be for you. You could not +understand each other. You see, you might live ten years, and not see +anything, and not hear about anything, except cards, wine, and gossip +about rewards and campaigns." + +It was unpleasant for me, that he wished me to put myself on a par with +him in his position; and, with absolute honesty, I assured him that I +was very fond of cards and wine, and gossip about campaigns, and that I +did not care to have any better comrades than those with whom I was +associated. But he would not believe me. + +"Well, you may say so," he continued; "but the lack of women's society,-- +I mean, of course, FEMMES COMME IL FAUT,--is that not a terrible +deprivation? I don't know what I would give now to go into a parlor, if +only for a moment, and to have a look at a pretty woman, even though it +were through a crack." + +He said nothing for a little, and drank still another glass of the red +wine. + +"Oh, my God, my God! [Footnote: AKH, BOZHE MOI, BOZHE MOI.] If it only +might be our fate to meet again, somewhere in Petersburg, to live and +move among men, among ladies!" + +He drank up the dregs of the wine still left in the bottle, and when he +had finished it he said: "AKH! PARDON, maybe you wanted some more. It +was horribly careless of me. However, I suppose I must have taken too +much, and my head isn't very strong. [Footnote: ET JE N'AI PAS LA TETE +FORTE.] There was a time when I lived on Morskaia Street, AU REZ-DE- +CHAUSSEE, and had marvellous apartments, furniture, you know, and I was +able to arrange it all beautifully, not so very expensively though; my +father, to be sure, gave me porcelains, flowers, and silver--a wonderful +lot. Le matin je sortais, visits, 5 heures regulierement. I used to go +and dine with her; often she was alone. Il faut avouer que c'etait une +femme ravissante! You didn't know her at all, did you?" + +"No." + +"You see, there was such high degree of womanliness in her, and such +tenderness, and what love! Lord! I did not know how to appreciate my +happiness then. We would return after the theatre, and have a little +supper together. It was never dull where she was, toujours gaie, +toujours aimante. Yes, and I had never imagined what rare happiness it +was. Et j'ai beaucoup a me reprocher in regard to her. Je l'ai fait +souffrir et souvent. I was outrageous. AKH! What a marvellous time that +was! Do I bore you?" + +"No, not at all." + +"Then I will tell you about our evenings. I used to go--that stairway, +every flower-pot I knew,--the door-handle, all was so lovely, so familiar; +then the vestibule, her room. . . . No, it will never, never come +back to me again! Even now she writes to me: if you will let me, I will +show you her letters. But I am not what I was; I am ruined; I am no +longer worthy of her. . . . Yes, I am ruined for ever. Je suis casse. +There's no energy in me, no pride, nothing--nor even any rank. . . . +[Footnote: Blagorodstva, noble birth, nobility.] Yes, I am ruined; +and no one will ever appreciate my sufferings. Every one is indifferent. +I am a lost man. Never any chance for me to rise, because I have fallen +morally . . . into the mire--I have fallen. . . ." + +At this moment there was evident in his words a genuine, deep despair: +he did not look at me, but sat motionless. + +"Why are you in such despair?" I asked. + +"Because I am abominable. This life has degraded me, all that was in me, +all is crushed out. It is not by pride that I hold out, but by +abjectness: there's no dignite dans le malheur. I am humiliated every +moment; I endure it all; I got myself into this abasement. This mire has +soiled me. I myself have become coarse; I have forgotten what I used to +know; I can't speak French any more; I am conscious that I am base and +low. I cannot tear myself away from these surroundings, indeed I cannot. +I might have been a hero: give me a regiment, gold epaulets, a +trumpeter, but to march in the ranks with some wild Anton Bondarenko or +the like, and feel that between me and him there was no difference at +all--that he might be killed or I might be killed--all the same, that +thought is maddening. You understand how horrible it is to think that +some ragamuffin may kill me, a man who has thoughts and feelings, and +that it would make no difference if alongside of me some Antonof were +killed,--a being not different from an animal--and that it might easily +happen that I and not this Antonof were killed, which is always UNE +FATALITE for every lofty and good man. I know that they call me a +coward: grant that I am a coward, I certainly am a coward, and can't be +anything else. Not only am I a coward, but I am in my way a low and +despicable man. Here I have just been borrowing money of you, and you +have the right to despise me. No, take back your money." And he held out +to me the crumpled bank-bill. "I want you to have a good opinion of me." +He covered his face with his hands, and burst into tears. I really did +not know what to say or do. + +"Calm yourself," I said to him. "You are too sensitive; don't take +everything so to heart; don't indulge in self-analysis, look at things +more simply. You yourself say that you have character. Keep up good +heart, you won't have long to wait," I said to him, but not very +consistently, because I was much stirred both by a feeling of sympathy +and a feeling of repentance, because I had allowed myself mentally to +sin in my judgment of a man truly and deeply unhappy. + +"Yes," he began, "if I had heard even once, at the time when I was in +that hell, one single word of sympathy, of advice, of friendship--one +humane word such as you have just spoken, perhaps I might have calmly +endured all; perhaps I might have struggled, and been a soldier. But now +this is horrible. . . . When I think soberly, I long for death. Why +should I love my despicable life and my own self, now that I am ruined for +all that is worth while in the world? And at the least danger, I suddenly, +in spite of myself, begin to pray for my miserable life, and to watch +over it as though it were precious, and I cannot, je ne puis pas, +control myself. That is, I could," he continued again after a minute's +silence, "but this is too hard work for me, a monstrous work, when I am +alone. With others, under special circumstances, when you are going into +action, I am brave, j'ai fait mes epreuves, because I am vain and proud: +that is my failing, and in presence of others. . . . Do you know, let me +spend the night with you: with us, they will play all night long; it +makes no difference, anywhere, on the ground." + +While Nikita was making the bed, we got up, and once more began to walk +up and down in the darkness on the battery. Certainly Guskof's head must +have been very weak, because two glasses of liquor and two of wine made +him dizzy. As we got up and moved away from the candles, I noticed that +he again thrust the ten-ruble bill into his pocket, trying to do so +without my seeing it. During all the foregoing conversation, he had held +it in his hand. He continued to reiterate how he felt that he might +regain his old station if he had a man such as I were to take some +interest in him. + +We were just going into the tent to go to bed when suddenly a cannon- +ball whistled over us, and buried itself in the ground not far from us. +So strange it was,--that peacefully sleeping camp, our conversation, and +suddenly the hostile cannon-ball which flew from God knows where, the +midst of our tents,--so strange that it was some time before I could +realize what it was. Our sentinel, Andreief, walking up and down on the +battery, moved toward me. + +"Ha! he's crept up to us. It was the fire here that he aimed at," said +he. + +"We must rouse the captain," said I, and gazed at Guskof. + +He stood cowering close to the ground, and stammered, trying to say, +"Th-that's th-the ene-my's . . . f-f-fire--th-that's--hidi--." Further he +could not say a word, and I did not see how and where he disappeared so +instantaneously. + +In the captain's tent a candle gleamed; his cough, which always troubled +him when he was awake, was heard; and he himself soon appeared, asking +for a linstock to light his little pipe. + +"What does this mean, old man?" [Footnote: Batiushka] he asked with a +smile. "Aren't they willing to give me a little sleep to-night? First +it's you with your cashiered friend, and then it's Shamyl. What shall we +do, answer him or not? There was nothing about this in the instructions, +was there?" + +"Nothing at all. There he goes again," said I. "Two of them!" + +Indeed, in the darkness, directly in front of us, flashed two fires, +like two eyes; and quickly over our heads flew one cannon-ball and one +heavy shell. It must have been meant for us, coming with a loud and +penetrating hum. From the neighboring tents the soldiers hastened. You +could hear them hawking and talking and stretching themselves. + +"Hist! the fuse sings like a nightingale," was the remark of the +artillerist. + +"Send for Nikita," said the captain with his perpetually benevolent +smile. "Nikita, don't hide yourself, but listen to the mountain +nightingales." + +"Well, your honor," [Footnote: VASHE VUISOKOBLAGORODIE. German, +HOCHWOHLGEBORENER, high, well-born; regulation title of officers from +major to general] said Nikita, who was standing near the captain, "I +have seen them--these nightingales. I am not afraid of 'em; but here was +that stranger who was here, he was drinking up your red wine. When he +heard how that shot dashed by our tents, and the shell rolled by, he +cowered down like some wild beast." + +"However, we must send to the commander of the artillery," said the +captain to me, in a serious tone of authority, "and ask whether we shall +reply to the fire or not. It will probably be nothing at all, but still +it may. Have the goodness to go and ask him. Have a horse saddled. Do it +as quickly as possible, even if you take my Polkan." + +In five minutes they brought me a horse, and I galloped off to the +commander of the artillery. "Look you, return on foot," whispered the +punctilious captain, "else they won't let you through the lines." + +It was half a verst to the artillery commander's, the whole road ran +between the tents. As soon as I rode away from our fire, it became so +black that I could not see even the horse's ears, but only the watch- +fires, now seeming very near, now very far off, as they gleamed into my +eyes. After I had ridden some distance, trusting to the intelligence of +the horse whom I allowed free rein, I began to distinguish the white +four-cornered tents and then the black tracks of the road. After a half- +hour, having asked my way three times, and twice stumbled over the tent- +stakes, causing each time a volley of curses from the tents, and twice +been detained by the sentinels, I reached the artillery commander's. +While I was on the way, I heard two more cannon shot in the direction of +our camp; but the projectiles did not reach to the place where the +headquarters were. The artillery commander ordered not to reply to the +firing, the more as the enemy did not remain in the same place; and I +went back, leading the horse by the bridle, making my way on foot +between the infantry tents. More than once I delayed my steps, as I went +by some soldier's tent where a light was shining, and some merry-andrew +was telling a story; or I listened to some educated soldier reading from +some book while the whole division overflowed the tent, or hung around +it, sometimes interrupting the reading with various remarks; or I simply +listened to the talk about the expedition, about the fatherland, or +about their chiefs. + +As I came around one of the tents of the third battalion, I heard +Guskof's rough voice: he was speaking hilariously and rapidly. Young +voices replied to him, not those of soldiers, but of gay gentlemen. It +was evidently the tent of some yunker or sergeant-major. I stopped +short. + +"I've known him a long time," Guskof was saying. "When I lived in +Petersburg, he used to come to my house often; and I went to his. He +moved in the best society." + +"Whom are you talking about?" asked the drunken voice. + +"About the prince," said Guskof. "We were relatives, you see, but, more +than all, we were old friends. It's a mighty good thing, you know, +gentlemen, to have such an acquaintance. You see he's fearfully rich. To +him a hundred silver rubles is a mere bagatelle. Here, I just got a +little money out of him, enough to last me till my sister sends." + +"Let's have some." + +"Right away.--Savelitch, my dear," said Guskof, coming to the door of +the tent, "here's ten rubles for you: go to the sutler, get two bottles +of Kakhetinski. Anything else, gentlemen? What do you say?" and Guskof, +with unsteady gait, with dishevelled hair, without his hat, came out of +the tent. Throwing open his jacket, and thrusting his hands into the +pockets of his trousers, he stood at the door of the tent. Though he was +in the light, and I in darkness; I trembled with fear lest he should see +me, and I went on, trying to make no noise. + +"Who goes there?" shouted Guskof after me in a thoroughly drunken voice. +Apparently, the cold took hold of him. "Who the devil is going off with +that horse?" + +I made no answer, and silently went on my way. + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Stories by Foreign Authors: Russian, by Various + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUSSIAN STORIES *** + +This file should be named s4fru10.txt or s4fru10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, s4fru11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, s4fru10a.txt + +Produced by Nicole Apostola, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.05/20/01*END* +[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + + + + + +Please be advised that David sent the two Moscow Census pieces to me +as one file, and that I split it into two, since some people have a +bit of trouble when we put two titles in one file. However, I did NOT +change the numbering of the footnotes, so they all appear at the end +of each file. + + + + + +This etext was produced by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk, +from the 1887 Thomas Y. Crowell edition. + + + + + +THE MOSCOW CENSUS--FROM "WHAT TO DO?" +by Count Lyof N. Tolstoi + + + + +Translated from the Russian by +Isabel F. Hapgood + + + + +THOUGHTS EVOKED BY THE CENSUS OF MOSCOW. [1884-1885.] + + + +And the people asked him, saying, What shall we do then? + +He answereth and saith unto them, He that hath two coats, let him +impart to him that hath none; and he that hath meat, let him do +likewise--LUKE iii. 10. 11. + +Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust +doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: + +But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor +rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: + +For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. + +The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, +thy whole body shall be full of light. + +But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness. +If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that +darkness! + +No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and +love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the +other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon. + +Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye +shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye +shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than +raiment?--MATT. vi. 19-25. + +Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall +we drink? Or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? + +(For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly +Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. + +But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all +these things shall be added unto you. + +Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take +thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the +evil thereof.--MATT. vi. 31-34. + +For it is easier for a camel to go through a needle's eye, than for a +rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.--MATT. xix. 24; MARK x. +25; LUKE xviii. 25. + + + +CHAPTER I. + + + +I had lived all my life out of town. When, in 1881, I went to live +in Moscow, the poverty of the town greatly surprised me. I am +familiar with poverty in the country; but city poverty was new and +incomprehensible to me. In Moscow it was impossible to pass along +the street without encountering beggars, and especially beggars who +are unlike those in the country. These beggars do not go about with +their pouches in the name of Christ, as country beggars are +accustomed to do, but these beggars are without the pouch and the +name of Christ. The Moscow beggars carry no pouches, and do not ask +for alms. Generally, when they meet or pass you, they merely try to +catch your eye; and, according to your look, they beg or refrain from +it. I know one such beggar who belongs to the gentry. The old man +walks slowly along, bending forward every time he sets his foot down. +When he meets you, he rests on one foot and makes you a kind of +salute. If you stop, he pulls off his hat with its cockade, and bows +and begs: if you do not halt, he pretends that that is merely his +way of walking, and he passes on, bending forward in like manner on +the other foot. He is a real Moscow beggar, a cultivated man. At +first I did not know why the Moscow beggars do not ask alms directly; +afterwards I came to understand why they do not beg, but still I did +not understand their position. + +Once, as I was passing through Afanasievskaya Lane, I saw a policeman +putting a ragged peasant, all swollen with dropsy, into a cab. I +inquired: "What is that for?" + +The policeman answered: "For asking alms." + +"Is that forbidden?" + +"Of course it is forbidden," replied the policeman. + +The sufferer from dropsy was driven off. I took another cab, and +followed him. I wanted to know whether it was true that begging alms +was prohibited and how it was prohibited. I could in no wise +understand how one man could be forbidden to ask alms of any other +man; and besides, I did not believe that it was prohibited, when +Moscow is full of beggars. I went to the station-house whither the +beggar had been taken. At a table in the station-house sat a man +with a sword and a pistol. I inquired: + +"For what was this peasant arrested?" + +The man with the sword and pistol gazed sternly at me, and said: + +"What business is it of yours?" + +But feeling conscious that it was necessary to offer me some +explanation, he added: + +"The authorities have ordered that all such persons are to be +arrested; of course it had to be done." + +I went out. The policeman who had brought the beggar was seated on +the window-sill in the ante-chamber, staring gloomily at a note-book. +I asked him: + +"Is it true that the poor are forbidden to ask alms in Christ's +name?" + +The policeman came to himself, stared at me, then did not exactly +frown, but apparently fell into a doze again, and said, as he sat on +the window-sill:- + +"The authorities have so ordered, which shows that it is necessary," +and betook himself once more to his note-book. I went out on the +porch, to the cab. + +"Well, how did it turn out? Have they arrested him?" asked the +cabman. The man was evidently interested in this affair also. + +"Yes," I answered. The cabman shook his head. "Why is it forbidden +here in Moscow to ask alms in Christ's name?" I inquired. + +"Who knows?" said the cabman. + +"How is this?" said I, "he is Christ's poor, and he is taken to the +station-house." + +"A stop has been put to that now, it is not allowed," said the cab- +driver. + +On several occasions afterwards, I saw policemen conducting beggars +to the station house, and then to the Yusupoff house of correction. +Once I encountered on the Myasnitzkaya a company of these beggars, +about thirty in number. In front of them and behind them marched +policemen. I inquired: "What for?"--"For asking alms." + +It turned out that all these beggars, several of whom you meet with +in every street in Moscow, and who stand in files near every church +during services, and especially during funeral services, are +forbidden to ask alms. + +But why are some of them caught and locked up somewhere, while others +are left alone? + +This I could not understand. Either there are among them legal and +illegal beggars, or there are so many of them that it is impossible +to apprehend them all; or do others assemble afresh when some are +removed? + +There are many varieties of beggars in Moscow: there are some who +live by this profession; there are also genuine poor people, who have +chanced upon Moscow in some manner or other, and who are really in +want. + +Among these poor people, there are many simple, common peasants, and +women in their peasant costume. I often met such people. Some of +them have fallen ill here, and on leaving the hospital they can +neither support themselves here, nor get away from Moscow. Some of +them, moreover, have indulged in dissipation (such was probably the +case of the dropsical man); some have not been ill, but are people +who have been burnt out of their houses, or old people, or women with +children; some, too, were perfectly healthy and able to work. These +perfectly healthy peasants who were engaged in begging, particularly +interested me. These healthy, peasant beggars, who were fit for +work, also interested me, because, from the date of my arrival in +Moscow, I had been in the habit of going to the Sparrow Hills with +two peasants, and sawing wood there for the sake of exercise. These +two peasants were just as poor as those whom I encountered on the +streets. One was Piotr, a soldier from Kaluga; the other Semyon, a +peasant from Vladimir. They possessed nothing except the wages of +their body and hands. And with these hands they earned, by dint of +very hard labor, from forty to forty-five kopeks a day, out of which +each of them was laying by savings, the Kaluga man for a fur coat, +the Vladimir man in order to get enough to return to his village. +Therefore, on meeting precisely such men in the streets, I took an +especial interest in them. + +Why did these men toil, while those others begged? + +On encountering a peasant of this stamp, I usually asked him how he +had come to that situation. Once I met a peasant with some gray in +his beard, but healthy. He begs. I ask him who is he, whence comes +he? He says that he came from Kaluga to get work. At first he found +employment chopping up old wood for use in stoves. He and his +comrade finished all the chopping which one householder had; then +they sought other work, but found none; his comrade had parted from +him, and for two weeks he himself had been struggling along; he had +spent all his money, he had no saw, and no axe, and no money to buy +anything. I gave him money for a saw, and told him of a place where +he could find work. I had already made arrangements with Piotr and +Semyon, that they should take an assistant, and they looked up a mate +for him. + +"See that you come. There is a great deal of work there." + +"I will come; why should I not come? Do you suppose I like to beg? +I can work." + +The peasant declares that he will come, and it seems to me that he is +not deceiving me, and that he intents to come. + +On the following day I go to my peasants, and inquire whether that +man has arrived. He has not been there; and in this way several men +deceived me. And those also deceived me who said that they only +required money for a ticket in order to return home, and who chanced +upon me again in the street a week later. Many of these I +recognized, and they recognized me, and sometimes, having forgotten +me, they repeated the same trick on me; and others, on catching sight +of me, beat a retreat. Thus I perceived, that in the ranks of this +class also deceivers existed. But these cheats were very pitiable +creatures: all of them were but half-clad, poverty-stricken, gaunt, +sickly men; they were the very people who really freeze to death, or +hang themselves, as we learn from the newspapers. + + + +CHAPTER II. + + + +When I mentioned this poverty of the town to inhabitants of the town, +they always said to me: "Oh, all that you have seen is nothing. You +ought to see the Khitroff market-place, and the lodging-houses for +the night there. There you would see a regular 'golden company.'" +{1} One jester told me that this was no longer a company, but a +GOLDEN REGIMENT: so greatly had their numbers increased. The jester +was right, but he would have been still more accurate if he had said +that these people now form in Moscow neither a company nor a +regiment, but an entire army, almost fifty thousand in number, I +think. [The old inhabitants, when they spoke to me about the poverty +in town, always referred to it with a certain satisfaction, as though +pluming themselves over me, because they knew it. I remember that +when I was in London, the old inhabitants there also rather boasted +when they spoke of the poverty of London. The case is the same with +us.] {2} + +And I wanted to have a sight of this poverty of which I had been +told. Several times I set out in the direction of the Khitroff +market-place, but on every occasion I began to feel uncomfortable and +ashamed. "Why am I going to gaze on the sufferings of people whom I +cannot help?" said one voice. "No, if you live here, and see all the +charms of city life, go and view this also," said another voice. In +December three years ago, therefore, on a cold and windy day, I +betook myself to that centre of poverty, the Khitroff market-place. +This was at four o'clock in the afternoon of a week-day. As I passed +through the Solyanka, I already began to see more and more people in +old garments which had not originally belonged to them, and in still +stranger foot-gear, people with a peculiar, unhealthy hue of +countenance, and especially with a singular indifference to every +thing around them, which was peculiar to them all. A man in the +strangest of all possible attire, which was utterly unlike any thing +else, walked along with perfect unconcern, evidently without a +thought of the appearance which he must present to the eyes of +others. All these people were making their way towards a single +point. Without inquiring the way, with which I was not acquainted, I +followed them, and came out on the Khitroff market-place. On the +market-place, women both old and young, of the same description, in +tattered cloaks and jackets of various shapes, in ragged shoes and +overshoes, and equally unconcerned, notwithstanding the hideousness +of their attire, sat, bargained for something, strolled about, and +scolded. There were not many people in the market itself. Evidently +market-hours were over, and the majority of the people were ascending +the rise beyond the market and through the place, all still +proceeding in one direction. I followed them. The farther I +advanced, the greater in numbers were the people of this sort who +flowed together on one road. Passing through the market-place and +proceeding along the street, I overtook two women; one was old, the +other young. Both wore something ragged and gray. As they walked +they were discussing some matter. After every necessary word, they +uttered one or two unnecessary ones, of the most improper character. +They were not intoxicated, but merely troubled about something; and +neither the men who met them, nor those who walked in front of them +and behind them, paid any attention to the language which was so +strange to me. In these quarters, evidently, people always talked +so. Ascending the rise, we reached a large house on a corner. The +greater part of the people who were walking along with me halted at +this house. They stood all over the sidewalk of this house, and sat +on the curbstone, and even the snow in the street was thronged with +the same kind of people. On the right side of the entrance door were +the women, on the left the men. I walked past the women, past the +men (there were several hundred of them in all) and halted where the +line came to an end. The house before which these people were +waiting was the Lyapinsky free lodging-house for the night. The +throng of people consisted of night lodgers, who were waiting to be +let in. At five o'clock in the afternoon, the house is opened, and +the people permitted to enter. Hither had come nearly all the people +whom I had passed on my way. + +I halted where the line of men ended. Those nearest me began to +stare at me, and attracted my attention to them by their glances. +The fragments of garments which covered these bodies were of the most +varied sorts. But the expression of all the glances directed towards +me by these people was identical. In all eyes the question was +expressed: "Why have you, a man from another world, halted here +beside us? Who are you? Are you a self-satisfied rich man who wants +to enjoy our wretchedness, to get rid of his tedium, and to torment +us still more? or are you that thing which does not and can not +exist,--a man who pities us?" This query was on every face. You +glance about, encounter some one's eye, and turn away. I wished to +talk with some one of them, but for a long time I could not make up +my mind to it. But our glances had drawn us together already while +our tongues remained silent. Greatly as our lives had separated us, +after the interchange of two or three glances we felt that we were +both men, and we ceased to fear each other. The nearest of all to me +was a peasant with a swollen face and a red beard, in a tattered +caftan, and patched overshoes on his bare feet. And the weather was +eight degrees below zero. {3} For the third or fourth time I +encountered his eyes, and I felt so near to him that I was no longer +ashamed to accost him, but ashamed not to say something to him. I +inquired where he came from? he answered readily, and we began to +talk; others approached. He was from Smolensk, and had come to seek +employment that he might earn his bread and taxes. "There is no +work," said he: "the soldiers have taken it all away. So now I am +loafing about; as true as I believe in God, I have had nothing to eat +for two days." He spoke modestly, with an effort at a smile. A +sbiten{4}-seller, an old soldier, stood near by. I called him up. +He poured out his sbiten. The peasant took a boiling-hot glassful in +his hands, and as he tried before drinking not to let any of the heat +escape in vain, and warmed his hands over it, he related his +adventures to me. These adventures, or the histories of them, are +almost always identical: the man has been a laborer, then he has +changed his residence, then his purse containing his money and ticket +has been stolen from him in the night lodging-house; now it is +impossible to get away from Moscow. He told me that he kept himself +warm by day in the dram-shops; that he nourished himself on the bits +of bread in these drinking places, when they were given to him; and +when he was driven out of them, he came hither to the Lyapinsky house +for a free lodging. He was only waiting for the police to make their +rounds, when, as he had no passport, he would be taken to jail, and +then despatched by stages to his place of settlement. "They say that +the inspection will be made on Friday," said he, "then they will +arrest me. If I can only get along until Friday." (The jail, and +the journey by stages, represent the Promised Land to him.) + +As he told his story, three men from among the throng corroborated +his statements, and said that they were in the same predicament. A +gaunt, pale, long-nosed youth, with merely a shirt on the upper +portion of his body, and that torn on the shoulders, and a cap +without a visor, forced his way sidelong through the crowd. He +shivered violently and incessantly, but tried to smile disdainfully +at the peasants' remarks, thinking by this means to adopt the proper +tone with me, and he stared at me. I offered him some sbiten; he +also, on taking the glass, warmed his hands over it; but no sooner +had he begun to speak, than he was thrust aside by a big, black, +hook-nosed individual, in a chintz shirt and waistcoat, without a +hat. The hook-nosed man asked for some sbiten also. Then came a +tall old man, with a mass of beard, clad in a great-coat girded with +a rope, and in bast shoes, who was drunk. Then a small man with a +swollen face and tearful eyes, in a brown nankeen round-jacket, with +his bare knees protruding from the holes in his summer trousers, and +knocking together with cold. He shivered so that he could not hold +his glass, and spilled it over himself. The men began to reproach +him. He only smiled in a woe-begone way, and went on shivering. +Then came a crooked monster in rags, with pattens on his bare feet; +then some sort of an officer; then something in the ecclesiastical +line; then something strange and nose-less,--all hungry and cold, +beseeching and submissive, thronged round me, and pressed close to +the sbiten. They drank up all the sbiten. One asked for money, and +I gave it. Then another asked, then a third, and the whole crowd +besieged me. Confusion and a press resulted. The porter of the +adjoining house shouted to the crowd to clear the sidewalk in front +of his house, and the crowd submissively obeyed his orders. Some +managers stepped out of the throng, and took me under their +protection, and wanted to lead me forth out of the press; but the +crowd, which had at first been scattered over the sidewalk, now +became disorderly, and hustled me. All stared at me and begged; and +each face was more pitiful and suffering and humble than the last. I +distributed all that I had with me. I had not much money, something +like twenty rubles; and in company with the crowd, I entered the +Lyapinsky lodging-house. This house is huge. It consists of four +sections. In the upper stories are the men's quarters; in the lower, +the women's. I first entered the women's place; a vast room all +occupied with bunks, resembling the third-class bunks on the railway. +These bunks were arranged in two rows, one above the other. The +women, strange, tattered creatures, both old and young, wearing +nothing over their dresses, entered and took their places, some below +and some above. Some of the old ones crossed themselves, and uttered +a petition for the founder of this refuge; some laughed and scolded. +I went up-stairs. There the men had installed themselves; among them +I espied one of those to whom I had given money. [On catching sight +of him, I all at once felt terribly abashed, and I made haste to +leave the room. And it was with a sense of absolute crime that I +quitted that house and returned home. At home I entered over the +carpeted stairs into the ante-room, whose floor was covered with +cloth; and having removed my fur coat, I sat down to a dinner of five +courses, waited on by two lackeys in dress-coats, white neckties, and +white gloves. + +Thirty years ago I witnessed in Paris a man's head cut off by the +guillotine in the presence of thousands of spectators. I knew that +the man was a horrible criminal. I was acquainted with all the +arguments which people have been devising for so many centuries, in +order to justify this sort of deed. I knew that they had done this +expressly, deliberately. But at the moment when head and body were +severed, and fell into the trough, I groaned, and apprehended, not +with my mind, but with my heart and my whole being, that all the +arguments which I had heard anent the death-penalty were arrant +nonsense; that, no matter how many people might assemble in order to +perpetrate a murder, no matter what they might call themselves, +murder is murder, the vilest sin in the world, and that that crime +had been committed before my very eyes. By my presence and non- +interference, I had lent my approval to that crime, and had taken +part in it. So now, at the sight of this hunger, cold, and +degradation of thousands of persons, I understood not with my mind, +but with my heart and my whole being, that the existence of tens of +thousands of such people in Moscow, while I and other thousands dined +on fillets and sturgeon, and covered my horses and my floors with +cloth and rugs,--no matter what the wise ones of this world might say +to me about its being a necessity,--was a crime, not perpetrated a +single time, but one which was incessantly being perpetrated over and +over again, and that I, in my luxury, was not only an accessory, but +a direct accomplice in the matter. The difference for me between +these two impressions was this, that I might have shouted to the +assassins who stood around the guillotine, and perpetrated the +murder, that they were committing a crime, and have tried with all my +might to prevent the murder. But while so doing I should have known +that my action would not prevent the murder. But here I might not +only have given sbiten and the money which I had with me, but the +coat from my back, and every thing that was in my house. But this I +had not done; and therefore I felt, I feel, and shall never cease to +feel, myself an accomplice in this constantly repeated crime, so long +as I have superfluous food and any one else has none at all, so long +as I have two garments while any one else has not even one.] {5} + + + +CHAPTER III. + + + +That very evening, on my return from the Lyapinsky house, I related +my impressions to a friend. The friend, an inhabitant of the city, +began to tell me, not without satisfaction, that this was the most +natural phenomenon of town life possible, that I only saw something +extraordinary in it because of my provincialism, that it had always +been so, and always would be so, and that such must be and is the +inevitable condition of civilization. In London it is even worse. +Of course there is nothing wrong about it, and it is impossible to be +displeased with it. I began to reply to my friend, but with so much +heat and ill-temper, that my wife ran in from the adjoining room to +inquire what had happened. It appears that, without being conscious +of it myself, I had been shouting, with tears in my voice, and +flourishing my hands at my friend. I shouted: "It's impossible to +live thus, impossible to live thus, impossible!" They made me feel +ashamed of my unnecessary warmth; they told me that I could not talk +quietly about any thing, that I got disagreeably excited; and they +proved to me, especially, that the existence of such unfortunates +could not possibly furnish any excuse for imbittering the lives of +those about me. + +I felt that this was perfectly just, and held my peace; but in the +depths of my soul I was conscious that I was in the right, and I +could not regain my composure. + +And the life of the city, which had, even before this, been so +strange and repellent to me, now disgusted me to such a degree, that +all the pleasures of a life of luxury, which had hitherto appeared to +me as pleasures, become tortures to me. And try as I would, to +discover in my own soul any justification whatever for our life, I +could not, without irritation, behold either my own or other people's +drawing-rooms, nor our tables spread in the lordly style, nor our +equipages and horses, nor shops, theatres, and assemblies. I could +not behold alongside these the hungry, cold, and down-trodden +inhabitants of the Lyapinsky house. And I could not rid myself of +the thought that these two things were bound up together, that the +one arose from the other. I remember, that, as this feeling of my +own guilt presented itself to me at the first blush, so it persisted +in me, but to this feeling a second was speedily added which +overshadowed it. + +When I mentioned my impressions of the Lyapinsky house to my nearest +friends and acquaintances, they all gave me the same answer as the +first friend at whom I had begun to shout; but, in addition to this, +they expressed their approbation of my kindness of heart and my +sensibility, and gave me to understand that this sight had so +especially worked upon me because I, Lyof Nikolaevitch, was very kind +and good. And I willingly believed this. And before I had time to +look about me, instead of the feeling of self-reproach and regret, +which I had at first experienced, there came a sense of satisfaction +with my own kindliness, and a desire to exhibit it to people. + +"It really must be," I said to myself, "that I am not especially +responsible for this by the luxury of my life, but that it is the +indispensable conditions of existence that are to blame. In truth, a +change in my mode of life cannot rectify the evil which I have seen: +by altering my manner of life, I shall only make myself and those +about me unhappy, and the other miseries will remain the same as +ever. And therefore my problem lies not in a change of my own life, +as it had first seemed to me, but in aiding, so far as in me lies, in +the amelioration of the situation of those unfortunate beings who +have called forth my compassion. The whole point lies here,--that I +am a very kind, amiable man, and that I wish to do good to my +neighbors." And I began to think out a plan of beneficent activity, +in which I might exhibit my benevolence. I must confess, however, +that while devising this plan of beneficent activity, I felt all the +time, in the depths of my soul, that that was not the thing; but, as +often happens, activity of judgment and imagination drowned that +voice of conscience within me. At that juncture, the census came up. +This struck me as a means for instituting that benevolence in which I +proposed to exhibit my charitable disposition. I knew of many +charitable institutions and societies which were in existence in +Moscow, but all their activity seemed to me both wrongly directed and +insignificant in comparison with what I intended to do. And I +devised the following scheme: to arouse the sympathy of the wealthy +for the poverty of the city, to collect money, to get people together +who were desirous of assisting in this matter, and to visit all the +refuges of poverty in company with the census, and, in addition to +the work of the census, to enter into communion with the unfortunate, +to learn the particulars of their necessities, and to assist them +with money, with work, by sending them away from Moscow, by placing +their children in school, and the old people in hospitals and +asylums. And not only that, I thought, but these people who +undertake this can be formed into a permanent society, which, by +dividing the quarters of Moscow among its members, will be able to +see to it that this poverty and beggary shall not be bred; they will +incessantly annihilate it at its very inception; then they will +fulfil their duty, not so much by healing as by a course of hygiene +for the wretchedness of the city. I fancied that there would be no +more simply needy, not to mention abjectly poor persons, in the town, +and that all of us wealthy individuals would thereafter be able to +sit in our drawing-rooms, and eat our five-course dinners, and ride +in our carriages to theatres and assemblies, and be no longer annoyed +with such sights as I had seen at the Lyapinsky house. + +Having concocted this plan, I wrote an article on the subject; and +before sending it to the printer, I went to some acquaintances, from +whom I hoped for sympathy. I said the same thing to every one whom I +met that day (and I applied chiefly to the rich), and nearly the same +that I afterwards printed in my memoir; proposed to take advantage of +the census to inquire into the wretchedness of Moscow, and to succor +it, both by deeds and money, and to do it in such a manner that there +should be no poor people in Moscow, and so that we rich ones might be +able, with a quiet conscience, to enjoy the blessings of life to +which we were accustomed. All listened to me attentively and +seriously, but nevertheless the same identical thing happened with +every one of them without exception. No sooner did my hearers +comprehend the question, than they seemed to feel awkward and +somewhat mortified. They seemed to be ashamed, and principally on my +account, because I was talking nonsense, and nonsense which it was +impossible to openly characterize as such. Some external cause +appeared to compel my hearers to be forbearing with this nonsense of +mine. + +"Ah, yes! of course. That would be very good," they said to me. "It +is a self-understood thing that it is impossible not to sympathize +with this. Yes, your idea is a capital one. I have thought of that +myself, but . . . we are so indifferent, as a rule, that you can +hardly count on much success . . . however, so far as I am concerned, +I am, of course, ready to assist." + +They all said something of this sort to me. They all agreed, but +agreed, so it seemed to me, not in consequence of my convictions, and +not in consequence of their own wish, but as the result of some +outward cause, which did not permit them not to agree. I had already +noticed this, and, since not one of them stated the sum which he was +willing to contribute, I was obliged to fix it myself, and to ask: +"So I may count on you for three hundred, or two hundred, or one +hundred, or twenty-five rubles?" And not one of them gave me any +money. I mention this because, when people give money for that which +they themselves desire, they generally make haste to give it. For a +box to see Sarah Bernhardt, they will instantly place the money in +your hand, to clinch the bargain. Here, however, out of all those +who agreed to contribute, and who expressed their sympathy, not one +of them proposed to give me the money on the spot, but they merely +assented in silence to the sum which I suggested. In the last house +which I visited on that day, in the evening, I accidentally came upon +a large company. The mistress of the house had busied herself with +charity for several years. Numerous carriages stood at the door, +several lackeys in rich liveries were sitting in the ante-chamber. +In the vast drawing-room, around two tables and lamps, sat ladies and +young girls, in costly garments, dressing small dolls; and there were +several young men there also, hovering about the ladies. The dolls +prepared by these ladies were to be drawn in a lottery for the poor. + +The sight of this drawing-room, and of the people assembled in it, +struck me very unpleasantly. Not to mention the fact that the +property of the persons there congregated amounted to many millions, +not to mention the fact that the mere income from the capital here +expended on dresses, laces, bronzes, brooches, carriages, horses, +liveries, and lackeys, was a hundred-fold greater than all that these +ladies could earn; not to mention the outlay, the trip hither of all +these ladies and gentlemen; the gloves, linen, extra time, the +candles, the tea, the sugar, and the cakes had cost the hostess a +hundred times more than what they were engaged in making here. I saw +all this, and therefore I could understand, that precisely here I +should find no sympathy with my mission: but I had come in order to +make my proposition, and, difficult as this was for me, I said what I +intended. (I said very nearly the same thing that is contained in my +printed article.) + +Out of all the persons there present, one individual offered me +money, saying that she did not feel equal to going among the poor +herself on account of her sensibility, but that she would give money; +how much money she would give, and when, she did not say. Another +individual and a young man offered their services in going about +among the poor, but I did not avail myself of their offer. The +principal person to whom I appealed, told me that it would be +impossible to do much because means were lacking. Means were lacking +because all the rich people in Moscow were already on the lists, and +all of them were asked for all that they could possibly give; because +on all these benefactors rank, medals, and other dignities were +bestowed; because in order to secure financial success, some new +dignities must be secured from the authorities, and that this was the +only practical means, but this was extremely difficult. + +On my return home that night, I lay down to sleep not only with a +presentment that my idea would come to nothing, but with shame and a +consciousness that all day long I had been engaged in a very +repulsive and disgraceful business. But I did not give up this +undertaking. In the first place, the matter had been begun, and +false shame would have prevented my abandoning it; in the second +place, not only the success of this scheme, but the very fact that I +was busying myself with it, afforded me the possibility of continuing +to live in the conditions under which I was then living; failure +entailed upon me the necessity of renouncing my present existence and +of seeking new paths of life. And this I unconsciously dreaded, and +I could not believe the inward voice, and I went on with what I had +begun. + +Having sent my article to the printer, I read the proof of it to the +City Council (Dum). I read it, stumbling, and blushing even to +tears, I felt so awkward. And I saw that it was equally awkward for +all my hearers. In answer to my question at the conclusion of my +reading, as to whether the superintendents of the census would accept +my proposition to retain their places with the object of becoming +mediators between society and the needy, an awkward silence ensued. +Then two orators made speeches. These speeches in some measure +corrected the awkwardness of my proposal; sympathy for me was +expressed, but the impracticability of my proposition, which all had +approved, was demonstrated. Everybody breathed more freely. But +when, still desirous of gaining my object, I afterwards asked the +superintendents separately: Were they willing, while taking the +census, to inquire into the needs of the poor, and to retain their +posts, in order to serve as go-betweens between the poor and the +rich? they all grew uneasy again. They seemed to say to me with +their glances: "Why, we have just condoned your folly out of respect +to you, and here you are beginning it again!" Such was the +expression of their faces, but they assured me in words that they +agreed; and two of them said in the very same words, as though they +had entered into a compact together: "We consider ourselves MORALLY +BOUND to do this." The same impression was produced by my +communication to the student-census-takers, when I said to them, that +while taking our statistics, we should follow up, in addition to the +objects of the census, the object of benevolence. When we discussed +this, I observed that they were ashamed to look the kind-hearted man, +who was talking nonsense, in the eye. My article produced the same +impression on the editor of the newspaper, when I handed it to him; +on my son, on my wife, on the most widely different persons. All +felt awkward, for some reason or other; but all regarded it as +indispensable to applaud the idea itself, and all, immediately after +this expression of approbation, began to express their doubts as to +its success, and began for some reason (and all of them, too, without +exception) to condemn the indifference and coldness of our society +and of every one, apparently, except themselves. + +In the depths of my own soul, I still continued to feel that all this +was not at all what was needed, and that nothing would come of it; +but the article was printed, and I prepared to take part in the +census; I had contrived the matter, and now it was already carrying +me a way with it. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + + +At my request, there had been assigned to me for the census, a +portion of the Khamovnitchesky quarter, at the Smolensk market, along +the Prototchny cross-street, between Beregovoy Passage and Nikolsky +Alley. In this quarter are situated the houses generally called the +Rzhanoff Houses, or the Rzhanoff fortress. These houses once +belonged to a merchant named Rzhanoff, but now belong to the Zimins. +I had long before heard of this place as a haunt of the most terrible +poverty and vice, and I had accordingly requested the directors of +the census to assign me to this quarter. My desire was granted. + +On receiving the instructions of the City Council, I went alone, a +few days previous to the beginning of the census, to reconnoitre my +section. I found the Rzhanoff fortress at once, from the plan with +which I had been furnished. + +I approached from Nikolsky Alley. Nikolsky Alley ends on the left in +a gloomy house, without any gates on that side; I divined from its +appearance that this was the Rzhanoff fortress. + +Passing down Nikolsky Street, I overtook some lads of from ten to +fourteen years of age, clad in little caftans and great-coats, who +were sliding down hill, some on their feet, and some on one skate, +along the icy slope beside this house. The boys were ragged, and, +like all city lads, bold and impudent. I stopped to watch them. A +ragged old woman, with yellow, pendent cheeks, came round the corner. +She was going to town, to the Smolensk market, and she groaned +terribly at every step, like a foundered horse. As she came +alongside me, she halted and drew a hoarse sigh. In any other +locality, this old woman would have asked money of me, but here she +merely addressed me. + +"Look there," said she, pointing at the boys who were sliding, "all +they do is to play their pranks! They'll turn out just such Rzhanoff +fellows as their fathers." + +One of the boys clad in a great-coat and a visorless cap, heard her +words and halted: "What are you scolding about?" he shouted to the +old woman. "You're an old Rzhanoff nanny-goat yourself!" + +I asked the boy: + +"And do you live here?" + +"Yes, and so does she. She stole boot-legs," shouted the boy; and +raising his foot in front, he slid away. + +The old woman burst forth into injurious words, interrupted by a +cough. At that moment, an old man, all clad in rags, and as white as +snow, came down the hill in the middle of the street, flourishing his +hands [in one of them he held a bundle with one little kalatch and +baranki" {6}]. This old man bore the appearance of a person who had +just strengthened himself with a dram. He had evidently heard the +old woman's insulting words, and he took her part. + +"I'll give it to you, you imps, that I will!" he screamed at the +boys, seeming to direct his course towards them, and taking a circuit +round me, he stepped on to the sidewalk. This old man creates +surprise on the Arbata by his great age, his weakness, and his +indigence. Here he was a cheery laboring-man returning from his +daily toil. + +I followed the old man. He turned the corner to the left, into +Prototchny Alley, and passing by the whole length of the house and +the gate, he disappeared through the door of the tavern. + +Two gates and several doors open on Prototchny Alley: those +belonging to a tavern, a dram-shop, and several eating and other +shops. This is the Rzhanoff fortress itself. Every thing here is +gray, dirty, and malodorous--both buildings and locality, and court- +yards and people. The majority of the people whom I met here were +ragged and half-clad. Some were passing through, others were running +from door to door. Two were haggling over some rags. I made the +circuit of the entire building from Prototchny Alley and Beregovoy +Passage, and returning I halted at the gate of one of these houses. +I wished to enter, and see what was going on inside, but I felt that +it would be awkward. What should I say when I was asked what I +wanted there? I hesitated, but went in nevertheless. As soon as I +entered the court-yard, I became conscious of a disgusting odor. The +yard was frightfully dirty. I turned a corner, and at the same +instant I heard to my left and overhead, on the wooden balcony, the +tramp of footsteps of people running, at first along the planks of +the balcony, and then on the steps of the staircase. There emerged, +first a gaunt woman, with her sleeves rolled up, in a faded pink +gown, and little boots on her stockingless feet. After her came a +tattered man in a red shirt and very full trousers, like a petticoat, +and with overshoes. The man caught the woman at the bottom of the +steps. + +"You shall not escape," he said laughing. + +"See here, you cock-eyed devil," began the woman, evidently flattered +by this pursuit; but catching sight of me, she shrieked viciously, +"What do you want?" + +As I wanted nothing, I became confused and beat a retreat. There was +nothing remarkable about the place; but this incident, after what I +had witnessed on the other side of the yard, the cursing old woman, +the jolly old man, and the lads sliding, suddenly presented the +business which I had concocted from a totally different point of +view. I then comprehended for the first time, that all these +unfortunates to whom I was desirous of playing the part of +benefactor, besides the time, when, suffering from cold and hunger, +they awaited admission into the house, had still other time, which +they employed to some other purpose, that there were four and twenty +hours in every day, that there was a whole life of which I had never +thought, up to that moment. Here, for the first time, I understood, +that all those people, in addition to their desire to shelter +themselves from the cold and to obtain a good meal, must still, in +some way, live out those four and twenty hours each day, which they +must pass as well as everybody else. I comprehended that these +people must lose their tempers, and get bored, show courage, and +grieve and be merry. Strange as this may seem, when put into words, +I understood clearly for the first time, that the business which I +had undertaken could not consist alone in feeding and clothing +thousands of people, as one would feed and drive under cover a +thousand sheep, but that it must consist in doing good to them. + +And then I understood that each one of those thousand people was +exactly such a man,--with precisely the same past, with the same +passions, temptations, failings, with the same thoughts, the same +perplexities,--exactly such a man as myself, and then the thing that +I had undertaken suddenly presented itself to me as so difficult that +I felt my powerlessness; but the thing had been begun, and I went on +with it. + + + +CHAPTER V. + + + +On the first appointed day, the student enumerators arrived in the +morning, and I, the benefactor, joined them at twelve o'clock. I +could not go earlier, because I had risen at ten o'clock, then I had +drunk my coffee and smoked, while waiting on digestion. At twelve +o'clock I reached the gates of the Rzhanoff house. A policeman +pointed out to me the tavern with a side entrance on Beregovoy +Passage, where the census-takers had ordered every one who asked for +them to be directed. I entered the tavern. It was very dark, ill- +smelling, and dirty. Directly opposite the entrance was the counter, +on the left was a room with tables, covered with soiled cloths, on +the right a large apartment with pillars, and the same sort of little +tables at the windows and along the walls. Here and there at the +tables sat men both ragged and decently clad, like laboring-men or +petty tradesmen, and a few women drinking tea. The tavern was very +filthy, but it was instantly apparent that it had a good trade. + +There was a business-like expression on the face of the clerk behind +the counter, and a clever readiness about the waiters. No sooner had +I entered, than one waiter prepared to remove my coat and bring me +whatever I should order. It was evident that they had been trained +to brisk and accurate service. I inquired for the enumerators. + +"Vanya!" shouted a small man, dressed in German fashion, who was +engaged in placing something in a cupboard behind the counter; this +was the landlord of the tavern, a Kaluga peasant, Ivan Fedotitch, who +hired one-half of the Zimins' houses and sublet them to lodgers. The +waiter, a thin, hooked-nosed young fellow of eighteen, with a yellow +complexion, hastened up. + +"Conduct this gentleman to the census-takers; they went into the main +building over the well." The young fellow threw down his napkin, and +donned a coat over his white jacket and white trousers, and a cap +with a large visor, and, tripping quickly along with his white feet, +he led me through the swinging door in the rear. In the dirty, +malodorous kitchen, in the out-building, we encountered an old woman +who was carefully carrying some very bad-smelling tripe, wrapped in a +rag, off somewhere. From the out-building we descended into a +sloping court-yard, all encumbered with small wooden buildings on +lower stories of stone. The odor in this whole yard was extremely +powerful. The centre of this odor was an out-house, round which +people were thronging whenever I passed it. It merely indicated the +spot, but was not altogether used itself. It was impossible, when +passing through the yard, not to take note of this spot; one always +felt oppressed when one entered the penetrating atmosphere which was +emitted by this foul smell. + +The waiter, carefully guarding his white trousers, led me cautiously +past this place of frozen and unfrozen uncleanness to one of the +buildings. The people who were passing through the yard and along +the balconies all stopped to stare at me. It was evident that a +respectably dressed man was a curiosity in these localities. + +The young man asked a woman "whether she had seen the census-takers?" +And three men simultaneously answered his question: some said that +they were over the well, but others said that they had been there, +but had come out and gone to Nikita Ivanovitch. An old man dressed +only in his shirt, who was wandering about the centre of the yard, +said that they were in No. 30. The young man decided that this was +the most probable report, and conducted me to No. 30 through the +basement entrance, and darkness and bad smells, different from that +which existed outside. We went down-stairs, and proceeded along the +earthen floor of a dark corridor. As we were passing along the +corridor, a door flew open abruptly, and an old drunken man, in his +shirt, probably not of the peasant class, thrust himself out. A +washerwoman, wringing her soapy hands, was pursuing and hustling the +old man with piercing screams. Vanya, my guide, pushed the old man +aside, and reproved him. + +"It's not proper to make such a row," said me, "and you an officer, +too!" and we went on to the door of No. 30. + +Vanya gave it a little pull. The door gave way with a smack, opened, +and we smelled soapy steam, and a sharp odor of spoilt food and +tobacco, and we entered into total darkness. The windows were on the +opposite side; but the corridors ran to right and left between board +partitions, and small doors opened, at various angles, into the rooms +made of uneven whitewashed boards. In a dark room, on the left, a +woman could be seen washing in a tub. An old woman was peeping from +one of these small doors on the right. Through another open door we +could see a red-faced, hairy peasant, in bast shoes, sitting on his +wooden bunk; his hands rested on his knees, and he was swinging his +feet, shod in bast shoes, and gazing gloomily at them. + +At the end of the corridor was a little door leading to the apartment +where the census-takers were. This was the chamber of the mistress +of the whole of No. 30; she rented the entire apartment from Ivan +Feodovitch, and let it out again to lodgers and as night-quarters. +In her tiny room, under the tinsel images, sat the student census- +taker with his charts; and, in his quality of investigator, he had +just thoroughly interrogated a peasant wearing a shirt and a vest. +This latter was a friend of the landlady, and had been answering +questions for her. The landlady herself, an elderly woman, was there +also, and two of her curious tenants. When I entered, the room was +already packed full. I pushed my way to the table. I exchanged +greetings with the student, and he proceeded with his inquiries. And +I began to look about me, and to interrogate the inhabitants of these +quarters for my own purpose. + +It turned out, that in this first set of lodgings, I found not a +single person upon whom I could pour out my benevolence. The +landlady, in spite of the fact that the poverty, smallness and dirt +of these quarters struck me after the palatial house in which I +dwell, lived in comfort, compared with many of the poor inhabitants +of the city, and in comparison with the poverty in the country, with +which I was thoroughly familiar, she lived luxuriously. She had a +feather-bed, a quilted coverlet, a samovar, a fur cloak, and a +dresser with crockery. The landlady's friend had the same +comfortable appearance. He had a watch and a chain. Her lodgers +were not so well off, but there was not one of them who was in need +of immediate assistance: the woman who was washing linen in a tub, +and who had been abandoned by her husband and had children, an aged +widow without any means of livelihood, as she said, and that peasant +in bast shoes, who told me that he had nothing to eat that day. But +on questioning them, it appeared that none of these people were in +special want, and that, in order to help them, it would be necessary +to become well acquainted with them. + +When I proposed to the woman whose husband had abandoned her, to +place her children in an asylum, she became confused, fell into +thought, thanked me effusively, but evidently did not wish to do so; +she would have preferred pecuniary assistance. The eldest girl +helped her in her washing, and the younger took care of the little +boy. The old woman begged earnestly to be taken to the hospital, but +on examining her nook I found that the old woman was not particularly +poor. She had a chest full of effects, a teapot with a tin spout, +two cups, and caramel boxes filled with tea and sugar. She knitted +stockings and gloves, and received monthly aid from some benevolent +lady. And it was evident that what the peasant needed was not so +much food as drink, and that whatever might be given him would find +its way to the dram-shop. In these quarters, therefore, there were +none of the sort of people whom I could render happy by a present of +money. But there were poor people who appeared to me to be of a +doubtful character. I noted down the old woman, the woman with the +children, and the peasant, and decided that they must be seen to; but +later on, as I was occupied with the peculiarly unfortunate whom I +expected to find in this house, I made up my mind that there must be +some order in the aid which we should bestow; first came the most +wretched, and then this kind. But in the next quarters, and in the +next after that, it was the same story, all the people had to be +narrowly investigated before they could be helped. But unfortunates +of the sort whom a gift of money would convert from unfortunate into +fortunate people, there were none. Mortifying as it is to me to avow +this, I began to get disenchanted, because I did not find among these +people any thing of the sort which I had expected. I had expected to +find peculiar people here; but, after making the round of all the +apartments, I was convinced that the inhabitants of these houses were +not peculiar people at all, but precisely such persons as those among +whom I lived. As there are among us, just so among them; there were +here those who were more or less good, more or less stupid, happy and +unhappy. The unhappy were exactly such unhappy beings as exist among +us, that is, unhappy people whose unhappiness lies not in their +external conditions, but in themselves, a sort of unhappiness which +it is impossible to right by any sort of bank-note whatever. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + + +The inhabitants of these houses constitute the lower class of the +city, which numbers in Moscow, probably, one hundred thousand. +There, in that house, are representatives of every description of +this class. There are petty employers, and master-artisans, +bootmakers, brush-makers, cabinet-makers, turners, shoemakers, +tailors, blacksmiths; there are cab-drivers, young women living +alone, and female pedlers, laundresses, old-clothes dealers, money- +lenders, day-laborers, and people without any definite employment; +and also beggars and dissolute women. + +Here were many of the very people whom I had seen at the entrance to +the Lyapinsky house; but here these people were scattered about among +the working-people. And moreover, I had seen these people at their +most unfortunate time, when they had eaten and drunk up every thing, +and when, cold, hungry, and driven forth from the taverns, they were +awaiting admission into the free night lodging-house, and thence into +the promised prison for despatch to their places of residence, like +heavenly manna; but here I beheld them and a majority of workers, and +at a time, when by one means or another, they had procured three or +five kopeks for a lodging for the night, and sometimes a ruble for +food and drink. + +And strange as the statement may seem, I here experienced nothing +resembling that sensation which I had felt in the Lyapinsky house; +but, on the contrary, during the first round, both I and the students +experienced an almost agreeable feeling,--yes, but why do I say +"almost agreeable"? This is not true; the feeling called forth by +intercourse with these people, strange as it may sound, was a +distinctly agreeable one. + +Our first impression was, that the greater part of the dwellers here +were working people and very good people at that. + +We found more than half the inhabitants at work: laundresses bending +over their tubs, cabinet-makers at their lathes, cobblers on their +benches. The narrow rooms were full of people, and cheerful and +energetic labor was in progress. There was an odor of toilsome sweat +and leather at the cobbler's, of shavings at the cabinet-maker's; +songs were often to be heard, and glimpses could be had of brawny +arms with sleeves roiled high, quickly and skilfully making their +accustomed movements. Everywhere we were received cheerfully and +politely: hardly anywhere did our intrusion into the every-day life +of these people call forth that ambition, and desire to exhibit their +importance and to put us down, which the appearance of the +enumerators in the quarters of well-to-do people evoked. It not only +did not arouse this, but, on the contrary, they answered all other +questions properly, and without attributing any special significance +to them. Our questions merely served them as a subject of mirth and +jesting as to how such and such a one was to be set down in the list, +when he was to be reckoned as two, and when two were to be reckoned +as one, and so forth. + +We found many of them at dinner, or tea; and on every occasion to our +greeting: "bread and salt," or "tea and sugar," they replied: "we +beg that you will partake," and even stepped aside to make room for +us. Instead of the den with a constantly changing population, which +we had expected to find here, it turned out, that there were a great +many apartments in the house where people had been living for a long +time. One cabinet-maker with his men, and a boot-maker with his +journeymen, had lived there for ten years. The boot-maker's quarters +were very dirty and confined, but all the people at work were very +cheerful. I tried to enter into conversation with one of the +workmen, being desirous of inquiring into the wretchedness of his +situation and his debt to his master, but the man did not understand +me and spoke of his master and his life from the best point of view. + +In one apartment lived an old man and his old woman. They peddled +apples. Their little chamber was warm, clean, and full of goods. On +the floor were spread straw mats: they had got them at the apple- +warehouse. They had chests, a cupboard, a samovar, and crockery. In +the corner there were numerous images, and two lamps were burning +before them; on the wall hung fur coats covered with sheets. The old +woman, who had star-shaped wrinkles, and who was polite and +talkative, evidently delighted in her quiet, comfortable, existence. + +Ivan Fedotitch, the landlord of the tavern and of these quarters, +left his establishment and came with us. He jested in a friendly +manner with many of the landlords of apartments, addressing them all +by their Christian names and patronymics, and he gave us brief +sketches of them. All were ordinary people, like everybody else,-- +Martin Semyonovitches, Piotr Piotrovitches, Marya Ivanovnas,--people +who did not consider themselves unhappy, but who regarded themselves, +and who actually were, just like the rest of mankind. + +We had been prepared to witness nothing except what was terrible. +And, all of a sudden, there was presented to us, not only nothing +that was terrible, but what was good,--things which involuntarily +compelled our respect. And there were so many of these good people, +that the tattered, corrupt, idle people whom we came across now and +then among them, did not destroy the principal impression. + +This was not so much of a surprise to the students as to me. They +simply went to fulfil a useful task, as they thought, in the +interests of science, and, at the same time, they made their own +chance observations; but I was a benefactor, I went for the purpose +of aiding the unfortunate, the corrupt, vicious people, whom I +supposed that I should meet with in this house. And, behold, instead +of unfortunate, corrupt, and vicious people, I saw that the majority +were laborious, industrious, peaceable, satisfied, contented, +cheerful, polite, and very good folk indeed. + +I felt particularly conscious of this when, in these quarters, I +encountered that same crying want which I had undertaken to +alleviate. + +When I encountered this want, I always found that it had already been +relieved, that the assistance which I had intended to render had +already been given. This assistance had been rendered before my +advent, and rendered by whom? By the very unfortunate, depraved +creatures whom I had undertaken to reclaim, and rendered in such a +manner as I could not compass. + +In one basement lay a solitary old man, ill with the typhus fever. +There was no one with the old man. A widow and her little daughter, +strangers to him, but his neighbors round the corner, looked after +him, gave him tea and purchased medicine for him out of their own +means. In another lodging lay a woman in puerperal fever. A woman +who lived by vice was rocking the baby, and giving her her bottle; +and for two days, she had been unremitting in her attention. The +baby girl, on being left an orphan, was adopted into the family of a +tailor, who had three children of his own. So there remained those +unfortunate idle people, officials, clerks, lackeys out of place, +beggars, drunkards, dissolute women, and children, who cannot be +helped on the spot with money, but whom it is necessary to know +thoroughly, to be planned and arranged for. I had simply sought +unfortunate people, the unfortunates of poverty, those who could be +helped by sharing with them our superfluity, and, as it seemed to me, +through some signal ill-luck, none such were to be found; but I hit +upon unfortunates to whom I should be obliged to devote my time and +care. + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + + +The unfortunates whom I noted down, divided themselves, according to +my ideas, into three sections, namely: people who had lost their +former advantageous position, and who were awaiting a return to it +(there were people of this sort from both the lower and the higher +class); next, dissolute women, of whom there are a great many in +these houses; and a third division, children. More than all the +rest, I found and noted down people of the first division, who had +forfeited their former advantageous position, and who hoped to regain +it. Of such persons, especially from the governmental and official +world, there are a very great number in these houses. In almost all +the lodgings which we entered, with the landlord, Ivan Fedotitch, he +said to us: "Here you need not write down the lodger's card +yourself; there is a man here who can do it, if he only happens not +to be intoxicated to-day." + +And Ivan Fedotitch called by name and patronymic this man, who was +always one of those persons who had fallen from a lofty position. At +Ivan Fedotitch's call, there crawled forth from some dark corner, a +former wealthy member of the noble or official class, generally +intoxicated and always undressed. If he was not drunk, he always +readily acceded to the task proposed to him, nodded significantly, +frowned, set down his remarks in learned phraseology, held the card +neatly printed on red paper in his dirty, trembling hands, and +glanced round at his fellow-lodgers with pride and contempt, as +though now triumphing in his education over those who had so often +humiliated him. He evidently enjoyed intercourse with that world in +which cards are printed on red paper, and with that world of which he +had once formed a part. Nearly always, in answer to my inquiries +about his life, the man began, not only willingly, but eagerly, to +relate the story of the misfortunes which he had undergone,--which he +had learned by rote like a prayer,--and particularly of his former +position, in which he ought still to be by right of his education. + +A great many such people were scattered over all the corners of the +Rzhanoff house. But one lodging was densely occupied by them alone-- +both men and women. After we had already entered, Ivan Fedotitch +said to us: "Now, here are some of the nobility." The lodging was +perfectly crammed; nearly all of the people, forty in number, were at +home. More demoralized countenances, unhappy, aged, and swollen, +young, pallid, and distracted, were not to be seen in the whole +building. I conversed with several of them. The story was nearly +identical in all cases, only in various stages of development. Every +one of them had been rich, or his father, his brother or his uncle +was still wealthy, or his father or he himself had had a very fine +position. Then misfortune had overtaken him, the blame for which +rested either on envious people, or on his own kind-heartedness, or +some special chance, and so he had lost every thing, and had been +forced to condescend to these surroundings to which he was not +accustomed, and which were hateful to him--among lice, rags, among +drunkards and corrupt persons, and to nourish himself on bread and +liver, and to extend his hand in beggary. All the thoughts, desires, +memories of these people were directed exclusively to the past. The +present appeared to them something unreal, repulsive, and not worthy +of attention. Not one of them had any present. They had only +memories of the past, and expectations from the future, which might +be realized at any moment, and for the realization of which only a +very little was required; but this little they did not possess, it +was nowhere to be obtained, and this had been ruining their whole +future life in vain, in the case of one man, for a year, of a second +for five years, and of a third for thirty years. All one needed was +merely to dress respectably, so that he could present himself to a +certain personage, who was well-disposed towards him another only +needed to be able to dress, pay off his debts, and get to Orel; a +third required to redeem a small property which was mortgaged, for +the continuation of a law-suit, which must be decided in his favor, +and then all would be well once more. They all declare that they +merely require something external, in order to stand once more in the +position which they regard as natural and happy in their own case. + +Had my mind not been obscured by my pride as a benefactor, a glance +at their faces, both old and young, which were mostly weak and +sensitive, but amiable, would have given me to understand that their +misfortunes were irreparable by any external means, that they could +not be happy in any position whatever, if their views of life were to +remain unchanged, that they were in no wise remarkable people, in +remarkably unfortunate circumstances, but that they were the same +people who surround us on all sides, and just like ourselves. I +remember that intercourse with this sort of unfortunates was +peculiarly difficult for me. I now understand why this was so; in +them I beheld myself, as in a mirror. If I had reflected on my own +life and on the life of the people in our circle, I should have seen +that no real difference existed between them. + +If those about me dwell in spacious quarters, and in their own houses +on the Sivtzevy Vrazhok and on the Dimitrovka, and not in the +Rzhanoff house, and still eat and drink dainties, and not liver and +herrings with bread, that does not prevent them from being exactly as +unhappy. They are just as dissatisfied with their own positions, +they mourn over the past, and pine for better things, and the +improved position for which they long is precisely the same as that +which the inhabitants of the Rzhanoff house long for; that is to say, +one in which they may do as little work as possible themselves, and +derive the utmost advantage from the labors of others. The +difference is merely one of degrees and time. If I had reflected at +that time, I should have understood this; but I did not reflect, and +I questioned these people, and wrote them down, supposing, that, +having learned all the particulars of their various conditions and +necessities, I could aid them LATER ON. I did not understand that +such a man can only be helped by changing his views of the world. +But in order to change the views of another, one must needs have +better views himself, and live in conformity with them; but mine were +precisely the same as theirs, and I lived in accordance with those +views, which must undergo a change, in order that these people might +cease to be unhappy. + +I did not see that these people were unhappy, not because they had +not, so to speak, nourishing food, but because their stomachs had +been spoiled, and because their appetites demanded not nourishing but +irritating viands; and I did not perceive that, in order to help +them, it was not necessary to give them food, but that it was +necessary to heal their disordered stomachs. Although I am +anticipating by so doing, I will mention here, that, out of all these +persons whom I noted down, I really did not help a single one, in +spite of the fact that for some of them, that was done which they +desired, and that which, apparently, might have raised them. Three +of their number were particularly well known to me. All three, after +repeated rises and falls, are now in precisely the same situation in +which they were three years ago. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + + +The second class of unfortunates whom I also expected to assist later +on, were the dissolute women; there were a very great many of them, +of all sorts, in the Rzhanoff house--from those who were young and +who resembled women, to old ones, who were frightful and horrible, +and who had lost every semblance of humanity. The hope of being of +assistance to these women, which I had not at first entertained, +occurred to me later. This was in the middle of our rounds. We had +already worked out several mechanical tricks of procedure. + +When we entered a new establishment, we immediately questioned the +landlady of the apartment; one of us sat down, clearing some sort of +a place for himself where he could write, and another penetrated the +corners, and questioned each man in all the nooks of the apartment +separately, and reported the facts to the one who did the writing. + +On entering a set of rooms in the basement, a student went to hunt up +the landlady, while I began to interrogate all who remained in the +place. The apartment was thus arranged: in the centre was a room +six arshins square, {7} and a small oven. From the oven radiated +four partitions, forming four tiny compartments. In the first, the +entrance slip, which had four bunks, there were two persons--an old +man and a woman. Immediately adjoining this, was a rather long slip +of a room; in it was the landlord, a young fellow, dressed in a +sleeveless gray woollen jacket, a good-looking, very pale citizen. +{8} On the left of the first corner, was a third tiny chamber; there +was one person asleep there, probably a drunken peasant, and a woman +in a pink blouse which was loose in front and close-fitting behind. +The fourth chamber was behind the partition; the entrance to it was +from the landlord's compartment. + +The student went into the landlord's room, and I remained in the +entrance compartment, and questioned the old man and woman. The old +man had been a master-printer, but now had no means of livelihood. +The woman was the wife of a cook. I went to the third compartment, +and questioned the woman in the blouse about the sleeping man. She +said that he was a visitor. I asked the woman who she was. She +replied that she was a Moscow peasant. "What is your business?" She +burst into a laugh, and did not answer me. "What do you live on?" I +repeated, thinking that she had not understood my question. "I sit +in the taverns," she said. I did not comprehend, and again I +inquired: "What is your means of livelihood?" She made no reply and +laughed. Women's voices in the fourth compartment which we had not +yet entered, joined in the laugh. The landlord emerged from his +cabin and stepped up to us. He had evidently heard my questions and +the woman's replies. He cast a stern glance at the woman and turned +to me: "She is a prostitute," said he, apparently pleased that he +knew the word in use in the language of the authorities, and that he +could pronounce it correctly. And having said this, with a +respectful and barely perceptible smile of satisfaction addressed to +me, he turned to the woman. And no sooner had he turned to her, than +his whole face altered. He said, in a peculiar, scornful, hasty +tone, such as is employed towards dogs: "What do you jabber in that +careless way for? 'I sit in the taverns.' You do sit in the +taverns, and that means, to talk business, that you are a +prostitute," and again he uttered the word. "She does not know the +name for herself." This tone offended me. "It is not our place to +abuse her," said I. "If all of us lived according to the laws of +God, there would be none of these women." + +"That's the very point," said the landlord, with an awkward smile. + +"Therefore, we should not reproach but pity them. Are they to +blame?" + +I do not recollect just what I said, but I do remember that I was +vexed by the scornful tone of the landlord of these quarters which +were filled with women, whom he called prostitutes, and that I felt +compassion for this woman, and that I gave expression to both +feelings. No sooner had I spoken thus, than the boards of the bed in +the next compartment, whence the laugh had proceeded, began to creak, +and above the partition, which did not reach to the ceiling, there +appeared a woman's curly and dishevelled head, with small, swollen +eyes, and a shining, red face, followed by a second, and then by a +third. They were evidently standing on their beds, and all three +were craning their necks, and holding their breath with strained +attention, and gazing silently at us. + +A troubled pause ensued. The student, who had been smiling up to +this time, became serious; the landlord grew confused and dropped his +eyes. All the women held their breath, stared at me, and waited. I +was more embarrassed than any of them. I had not, in the least, +anticipated that a chance remark would produce such an effect. Like +Ezekiel's field of death, strewn with dead men's bones, there was a +quiver at the touch of the spirit, and the dead bones stirred. I had +uttered an unpremeditated word of love and sympathy, and this word +had acted on all as though they had only been waiting for this very +remark, in order that they might cease to be corpses and might live. +They all stared at me, and waited for what would come next. They +waited for me to utter those words, and to perform those actions by +reason of which these bones might draw together, clothe themselves +with flesh, and spring into life. But I felt that I had no such +words, no such actions, by means of which I could continue what I had +begun; I was conscious, in the depths of my soul, that I had lied +[that I was just like them], {9} and there was nothing further for me +to say; and I began to inscribe on the cards the names and callings +of all the persons in this set of apartments. + +This incident led me into a fresh dilemma, to the thought of how +these unfortunates also might be helped. In my self-delusion, I +fancied that this would be very easy. I said to myself: "Here, we +will make a note of all these women also, and LATER ON when we [I did +not specify to myself who "we" were] write every thing out, we will +attend to these persons too." I imagined that we, the very ones who +have brought and have been bringing these women to this condition for +several generations, would take thought some fine day and reform all +this. But, in the mean time, if I had only recalled my conversation +with the disreputable woman who had been rocking the baby of the +fever-stricken patient, I might have comprehended the full extent of +the folly of such a supposition. + +When we saw this woman with the baby, we thought that it was her +child. To the question, "Who was she?" she had replied in a +straightforward way that she was unmarried. She did not say--a +prostitute. Only the master of the apartment made use of that +frightful word. The supposition that she had a child suggested to me +the idea of removing her from her position. I inquired: + +"Is this your child?" + +"No, it belongs to that woman yonder." + +"Why are you taking care of it?" + +"Because she asked me; she is dying." + +Although my supposition proved to be erroneous, I continued my +conversation with her in the same spirit. I began to question her as +to who she was, and how she had come to such a state. She related +her history very readily and simply. She was a Moscow myeshchanka, +the daughter of a factory hand. She had been left an orphan, and had +been adopted by an aunt. From her aunt's she had begun to frequent +the taverns. The aunt was now dead. When I asked her whether she +did not wish to alter her mode of life, my question, evidently, did +not even arouse her interest. How can one take an interest in the +proposition of a man, in regard to something absolutely impossible? +She laughed, and said: "And who would take me in with my yellow +ticket?" + +"Well, but if a place could be found somewhere as cook?" said I. + +This thought occurred to me because she was a stout, ruddy woman, +with a kindly, round, and rather stupid face. Cooks are often like +that. My words evidently did not please her. She repeated: + +"A cook--but I don't know how to make bread," said she, and she +laughed. She said that she did not know how; but I saw from the +expression of her countenance that she did not wish to become a cook, +that she regarded the position and calling of a cook as low. + +This woman, who in the simplest possible manner was sacrificing every +thing that she had for the sick woman, like the widow in the Gospels, +at the same time, like many of her companions, regarded the position +of a person who works as low and deserving of scorn. She had been +brought up to live not by work, but by this life which was considered +the natural one for her by those about her. In that lay her +misfortune. And she fell in with this misfortune and clung to her +position. This led her to frequent the taverns. Which of us--man or +woman--will correct her false view of life? Where among us are the +people to be found who are convinced that every laborious life is +more worthy of respect than an idle life,--who are convinced of this, +and who live in conformity with this belief, and who in conformity +with this conviction value and respect people? If I had thought of +this, I might have understood that neither I, nor any other person +among my acquaintances, could heal this complaint. + +I might have understood that these amazed and affected heads thrust +over the partition indicated only surprise at the sympathy expressed +for them, but not in the least a hope of reclamation from their +dissolute life. They do not perceive the immorality of their life. +They see that they are despised and cursed, but for what they are +thus despised they cannot comprehend. Their life, from childhood, +has been spent among just such women, who, as they very well know, +always have existed, and are indispensable to society, and so +indispensable that there are governmental officials to attend to +their legal existence. Moreover, they know that they have power over +men, and can bring them into subjection, and rule them often more +than other women. They see that their position in society is +recognized by women and men and the authorities, in spite of their +continual curses, and therefore, they cannot understand why they +should reform. + +In the course of one of the tours, one of the students told me that +in a certain lodging, there was a woman who was bargaining for her +thirteen-year-old daughter. Being desirous of rescuing this girl, I +made a trip to that lodging expressly. Mother and daughter were +living in the greatest poverty. The mother, a small, dark- +complexioned, dissolute woman of forty, was not only homely, but +repulsively homely. The daughter was equally disagreeable. To all +my pointed questions about their life, the mother responded curtly, +suspiciously, and in a hostile way, evidently feeling that I was an +enemy, with evil intentions; the daughter made no reply, did not look +at her mother, and evidently trusted the latter fully. They inspired +me with no sincere pity, but rather with disgust. But I made up my +mind that the daughter must be rescued, and that I would interest +ladies who pitied the sad condition of these women, and send them +hither. But if I had reflected on the mother's long life in the +past, of how she had given birth to, nursed and reared this daughter +in her situation, assuredly without the slightest assistance from +outsiders, and with heavy sacrifices--if I had reflected on the view +of life which this woman had formed, I should have understood that +there was, decidedly, nothing bad or immoral in the mother's act: +she had done and was doing for her daughter all that she could, that +is to say, what she considered the best for herself. This daughter +could be forcibly removed from her mother; but it would be impossible +to convince the mother that she was doing wrong, in selling her +daughter. If any one was to be saved, then it must be this woman-- +the mother ought to have been saved; [and that long before, from that +view of life which is approved by every one, according to which a +woman may live unmarried, that is, without bearing children and +without work, and simply for the satisfaction of the passions. If I +had thought of this, I should have understood that the majority of +the ladies whom I intended to send thither for the salvation of that +little girl, not only live without bearing children and without +working, and serving only passion, but that they deliberately rear +their daughters for the same life; one mother takes her daughter to +the taverns, another takes hers to balls. But both mothers hold the +same view of the world, namely, that a woman must satisfy man's +passions, and that for this she must be fed, dressed, and cared for. +Then how are our ladies to reform this woman and her daughter? {10} ] + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + + +Still more remarkable were my relations to the children. In my role +of benefactor, I turned my attention to the children also, being +desirous to save these innocent beings from perishing in that lair of +vice, and noting them down in order to attend to them AFTERWARDS. + +Among the children, I was especially struck with a twelve-year-old +lad named Serozha. I was heartily sorry for this bold, intelligent +lad, who had lived with a cobbler, and who had been left without a +shelter because his master had been put in jail, and I wanted to do +good to him. + +I will here relate the upshot of my benevolence in his case, because +my experience with this child is best adapted to show my false +position in the role of benefactor. I took the boy home with me and +put him in the kitchen. It was impossible, was it not, to take a +child who had lived in a den of iniquity in among my own children? +And I considered myself very kind and good, because he was a care, +not to me, but to the servants in the kitchen, and because not I but +the cook fed him, and because I gave him some cast-off clothing to +wear. The boy staid a week. During that week I said a few words to +him as I passed on two occasions and in the course of my strolls, I +went to a shoemaker of my acquaintance, and proposed that he should +take the lad as an apprentice. A peasant who was visiting me, +invited him to go to the country, into his family, as a laborer; the +boy refused, and at the end of the week he disappeared. I went to +the Rzhanoff house to inquire after him. He had returned there, but +was not at home when I went thither. For two days already, he had +been going to the Pryesnensky ponds, where he had hired himself out +at thirty kopeks a day in some procession of savages in costume, who +led about elephants. Something was being presented to the public +there. I went a second time, but he was so ungrateful that he +evidently avoided me. Had I then reflected on the life of that boy +and on my own, I should have understood that this boy was spoiled +because he had discovered the possibility of a merry life without +labor, and that he had grown unused to work. And I, with the object +of benefiting and reclaiming him, had taken him to my house, where he +saw--what? My children,--both older and younger than himself, and of +the same age,--who not only never did any work for themselves, but +who made work for others by every means in their power, who soiled +and spoiled every thing about them, who ate rich, dainty, and sweet +viands, broke china, and flung to the dogs food which would have been +a tidbit to this lad. If I had rescued him from the abyss, and had +taken him to that nice place, then he must acquire those views which +prevailed in the life of that nice place; but by these views, he +understood that in that fine place he must so live that he should not +toil, but eat and drink luxuriously, and lead a joyous life. It is +true that he did not know that my children bore heavy burdens in the +acquisition of the declensions of Latin and Greek grammar, and that +he could not have understood the object of these labors. But it is +impossible not to see that if he had understood this, the influence +of my children's example on him would have been even stronger. He +would then have comprehended that my children were being educated in +this manner, so that, while doing no work now, they might be in a +position hereafter, also profiting by their diplomas, to work as +little as possible, and to enjoy the pleasures of life to as great an +extent as possible. He did understand this, and he would not go with +the peasant to tend cattle, and to eat potatoes and kvas with him, +but he went to the zoological garden in the costume of a savage, to +lead the elephant at thirty kopeks a day. + +I might have understood how clumsy I was, when I was rearing my +children in the most utter idleness and luxury, to reform other +people and their children, who were perishing from idleness in what I +called the den of the Rzhanoff house, where, nevertheless, three- +fourths of the people toil for themselves and for others. But I +understood nothing of this. + +There were a great many children in the Rzhanoff house, who were in +the same pitiable plight; there were the children of dissolute women, +there were orphans, there were children who had been picked up in the +streets by beggars. They were all very wretched. But my experience +with Serozha showed me that I, living the life I did, was not in a +position to help them. + +While Serozha was living with us, I noticed in myself an effort to +hide our life from him, in particular the life of our children. I +felt that all my efforts to direct him towards a good, industrious +life, were counteracted by the examples of our lives and by that of +our children. It is very easy to take a child away from a +disreputable woman, or from a beggar. It is very easy, when one has +the money, to wash, clean and dress him in neat clothing, to support +him, and even to teach him various sciences; but it is not only +difficult for us, who do not earn our own bread, but quite the +reverse, to teach him to work for his bread, but it is impossible, +because we, by our example, and even by those material and valueless +improvements of his life, inculcate the contrary. A puppy can be +taken, tended, fed, and taught to fetch and carry, and one may take +pleasure in him: but it is not enough to tend a man, to feed and +teach him Greek; we must teach the man how to live,--that is, to take +as little as possible from others, and to give as much as possible; +and we cannot help teaching him to do the contrary, if we take him +into our houses, or into an institution founded for this purpose. + + + +CHAPTER X. + + + +This feeling of compassion for people, and of disgust with myself, +which I had experienced in the Lyapinsky house, I experienced no +longer. I was completely absorbed in the desire to carry out the +scheme which I had concocted,--to do good to those people whom I +should meet here. And, strange to say, it would appear, that, to do +good--to give money to the needy--is a very good deed, and one that +should dispose me to love for the people, but it turned out the +reverse: this act produced in me ill-will and an inclination to +condemn people. But during our first evening tour, a scene occurred +exactly like that in the Lyapinsky house, and it called forth a +wholly different sentiment. + +It began by my finding in one set of apartments an unfortunate +individual, of precisely the sort who require immediate aid. I found +a hungry woman who had had nothing to eat for two days. + +It came about thus: in one very large and almost empty night- +lodging, I asked an old woman whether there were many poor people who +had nothing to eat? The old woman reflected, and then told me of +two; and then, as though she had just recollected, "Why, here is one +of them," said she, glancing at one of the occupied bunks. "I think +that woman has had no food." + +"Really? Who is she?" + +"She was a dissolute woman: no one wants any thing to do with her +now, so she has no way of getting any thing. The landlady has had +compassion on her, but now she means to turn her out . . . Agafya, +hey there, Agafya!" cried the woman. + +We approached, and something rose up in the bunk. It was a woman +haggard and dishevelled, whose hair was half gray, and who was as +thin as a skeleton, dressed in a ragged and dirty chemise, and with +particularly brilliant and staring eyes. She looked past us with her +staring eyes, clutched at her jacket with one thin hand, in order to +cover her bony breast which was disclosed by her tattered chemise, +and oppressed, she cried, "What is it? what is it?" I asked her +about her means of livelihood. For a long time she did not +understand, and said, "I don't know myself; they persecute me." I +asked her,--it puts me to shame, my hand refuses to write it,--I +asked her whether it was true that she had nothing to eat? She +answered in the same hurried, feverish tone, staring at me the +while,--"No, I had nothing yesterday, and I have had nothing to-day." + +The sight of this woman touched me, but not at all as had been the +case in the Lyapinsky house; there, my pity for these people made me +instantly feel ashamed of myself: but here, I rejoiced because I had +at last found what I had been seeking,--a hungry person. + +I gave her a ruble, and I recollect being very glad that others saw +it. The old woman, on seeing this, immediately begged money of me +also. It afforded me such pleasure to give, that, without finding +out whether it was necessary to give or not, I gave something to the +old woman too. The old woman accompanied me to the door, and the +people standing in the corridor heard her blessing me. Probably the +questions which I had put with regard to poverty, had aroused +expectation, and several persons followed us. In the corridor also, +they began to ask me for money. Among those who begged were some +drunken men, who aroused an unpleasant feeling in me; but, having +once given to the old woman, I had no might to refuse these people, +and I began to give. As long as I continued to give, people kept +coming up; and excitement ran through all the lodgings. People made +them appearance on the stairs and galleries, and followed me. As I +emerged into the court-yard, a little boy ran swiftly down one of the +staircases thrusting the people aside. He did not see me, and +exclaimed hastily: "He gave Agashka a ruble!" When he reached the +ground, the boy joined the crowd which was following me. I went out +into the street: various descriptions of people followed me, and +asked for money. I distributed all my small change, and entered an +open shop with the request that the shopkeeper would change a ten- +ruble bill for me. And then the same thing happened as at the +Lyapinsky house. A terrible confusion ensued. Old women, noblemen, +peasants, and children crowded into the shop with outstretched hands; +I gave, and interrogated some of them as to their lives, and took +notes. The shopkeeper, turning up the furred points of the collar of +his coat, sat like a stuffed creature, glancing at the crowd +occasionally, and then fixing his eyes beyond them again. He +evidently, like every one else, felt that this was foolish, but he +could not say so. + +The poverty and beggary in the Lyapinsky house had horrified me, and +I felt myself guilty of it; I felt the desire and the possibility of +improvement. But now, precisely the same scene produced on me an +entirely different effect; I experienced, in the first place, a +malevolent feeling towards many of those who were besieging me; and +in the second place, uneasiness as to what the shopkeepers and +porters would think of me. + +On my return home that day, I was troubled in my soul. I felt that +what I had done was foolish and immoral. But, as is always the +result of inward confusion, I talked a great deal about the plan +which I had undertaken, as though I entertained not the slightest +doubt of my success. + +On the following day, I went to such of the people whom I had +inscribed on my list, as seemed to me the most wretched of all, and +those who, as it seemed to me, would be the easiest to help. As I +have already said, I did not help any of these people. It proved to +be more difficult to help them than I had thought. And either +because I did not know how, or because it was impossible, I merely +imitated these people, and did not help any one. I visited the +Rzhanoff house several times before the final tour, and on every +occasion the very same thing occurred: I was beset by a throng of +beggars in whose mass I was completely lost. I felt the +impossibility of doing any thing, because there were too many of +them, and because I felt ill-disposed towards them because there were +so many of them; and in addition to this, each one separately did not +incline me in his favor. I was conscious that every one of them was +telling me an untruth, or less than the whole truth, and that he saw +in me merely a purse from which money might be drawn. And it very +frequently seemed to me, that the very money which they squeezed out +of me, rendered their condition worse instead of improving it. The +oftener I went to that house, the more I entered into intercourse +with the people there, the more apparent became to me the +impossibility of doing any thing; but still I did not give up any +scheme until the last night tour. + +The remembrance of that last tour is particularly mortifying to me. +On other occasions I had gone thither alone, but twenty of us went +there on this occasion. At seven o'clock, all who wished to take +part in this final night round, began to assemble at my house. +Nearly all of them were strangers to me,--students, one officer, and +two of my society acquaintances, who, uttering the usual, "C'est tres +interessant!" had asked me to include them in the number of the +census-takers. + +My worldly acquaintances had dressed up especially for this, in some +sort of hunting-jacket, and tall, travelling boots, in a costume in +which they rode and went hunting, and which, in their opinion, was +appropriate for an excursion to a night-lodging-house. They took +with them special note-books and remarkable pencils. They were in +that peculiarly excited state of mind in which men set off on a hunt, +to a duel, or to the wars. The most apparent thing about them was +their folly and the falseness of our position, but all the rest of us +were in the same false position. Before we set out, we held a +consultation, after the fashion of a council of war, as to how we +should begin, how divide our party, and so on. + +This consultation was exactly such as takes place in councils, +assemblages, committees; that is to say, each person spoke, not +because he had any thing to say or to ask, but because each one +cudgelled his brain for something that he could say, so that he might +not fall short of the rest. But, among all these discussions, no one +alluded to that beneficence of which I had so often spoken to them +all. Mortifying as this was to me, I felt that it was indispensable +that I should once more remind them of benevolence, that is, of the +point, that we were to observe and take notes of all those in +destitute circumstances whom we should encounter in the course of our +rounds. I had always felt ashamed to speak of this; but now, in the +midst of all our excited preparations for our expedition, I could +hardly utter the words. All listened to me, as it seemed to me, with +sorrow, and, at the same time, all agreed in words; but it was +evident that they all knew that it was folly, and that nothing would +come of it, and all immediately began again to talk about something +else. This went on until the time arrived for us to set out, and we +started. + +We reached the tavern, roused the waiters, and began to sort our +papers. When we were informed that the people had heard about this +round, and were leaving their quarters, we asked the landlord to lock +the gates; and we went ourselves into the yard to reason with the +fleeing people, assuring them that no one would demand their tickets. +I remember the strange and painful impression produced on me by these +alarmed night-lodgers: ragged, half-dressed, they all seemed tall to +me by the light of the lantern and the gloom of the court-yard. +Frightened and terrifying in their alarm, they stood in a group +around the foul-smelling out-house, and listened to our assurances, +but they did not believe us, and were evidently prepared for any +thing, like hunted wild beasts, provided only that they could escape +from us. Gentlemen in divers shapes--as policemen, both city and +rural, and as examining judges, and judges--hunt them all their +lives, in town and country, on the highway and in the streets, and in +the taverns, and in night-lodging houses; and now, all of a sudden, +these gentlemen had come and locked the gates, merely in order to +count them: it was as difficult for them to believe this, as for +hares to believe that dogs have come, not to chase but to count them. +But the gates were locked, and the startled lodgers returned: and +we, breaking up into groups, entered also. With me were the two +society men and two students. In front of us, in the dark, went +Vanya, in his coat and white trousers, with a lantern, and we +followed. We went to quarters with which I was familiar. I knew all +the establishments, and some of the people; but the majority of the +people were new, and the spectacle was new, and more dreadful than +the one which I had witnessed in the Lyapinsky house. All the +lodgings were full, all the bunks were occupied, not by one person +only, but often by two. The sight was terrible in that narrow space +into which the people were huddled, and men and women were mixed +together. All the women who were not dead drunk slept with men; and +women with two children did the same. The sight was terrible, on +account of the poverty, dirt, rags, and terror of the people. And it +was chiefly dreadful on account of the vast numbers of people who +were in this situation. One lodging, and then a second like it, and +a third, and a tenth, and a twentieth, and still there was no end to +them. And everywhere there was the same foul odor, the same close +atmosphere, the same crowding, the same mingling of the sexes, the +same men and women intoxicated to stupidity, and the same terror, +submission and guilt on all faces; and again I was overwhelmed with +shame and pain, as in the Lyapinsky house, and I understood that what +I had undertaken was abominable and foolish and therefore +impracticable. And I no longer took notes of anybody, and I asked no +questions, knowing that nothing would come of this. + +I was deeply pained. In the Lyapinsky house I had been like a man +who has seen a fearful wound, by chance, on the body of another man. +He is sorry for the other man, he is ashamed that he has not pitied +the man before, and he can still rise to the succor of the sufferer. +But now I was like a physician, who has come with his medicine to the +sick man, has uncovered his sore, and examined it, and who must +confess to himself that every thing that he has done has been in +vain, and that his remedy is good for nothing. + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + + +This visit dealt the final blow to my self-delusion. It now appeared +indisputable to me, that what I had undertaken was not only foolish +but loathsome. + +But, in spite of the fact that I was aware of this, it seemed to me +that I could not abandon the whole thing on the spot. It seemed to +me that I was bound to carry out this enterprise, in the first place, +because by my article, by my visits and promises, I had aroused the +expectations of the poor; in the second, because by my article also, +and by my talk, I had aroused the sympathies of benevolent persons, +many of whom had promised me their co-operation both in personal +labor and in money. And I expected that both sets of people would +turn to me for an answer to this. + +What happened to me, so far as the appeal of the needy to me is +concerned, was as follows: By letter and personal application I +received more than a hundred; these applications were all from the +wealthy-poor, if I may so express myself. I went to see some of +them, and some of them received no answer. Nowhere did I succeed in +doing any thing. All applications to me were from persons who had +once occupied privileged positions (I thus designate those in which +people receive more from others than they give), who had lost them, +and who wished to occupy them again. To one, two hundred rubles were +indispensable, in order that he might prop up a failing business, and +complete the education of his children which had been begun; another +wanted a photographic outfit; a third wanted his debts paid, and +respectable clothing purchased for him; a fourth needed a piano, in +order to perfect himself and support his family by giving lessons. +But the majority did not stipulate for any given sum of money, and +simply asked for assistance; and when I came to examine into what was +required, it turned out that their demands grew in proportion to the +aid, and that there was not and could not be any way of satisfying +them. I repeat, that it is very possible that this arose from the +fact that I did not understand how; but I did not help any one, +although I sometimes endeavored to do so. + +A very strange and unexpected thing happened to me as regards the co- +operation of the benevolently disposed. Out of all the persons who +had promised me financial aid, and who had even stated the number of +rubles, not a single one handed to me for distribution among the poor +one solitary ruble. But according to the pledges which had been +given me, I could reckon on about three thousand rubles; and out of +all these people, not one remembered our former discussions, or gave +me a single kopek. Only the students gave the money which had been +assigned to them for their work on the census, twelve rubles, I +think. So my whole scheme, which was to have been expressed by tens +of thousands of rubles contributed by the wealthy, for hundreds and +thousands of poor people who were to be rescued from poverty and +vice, dwindled down to this, that I gave away, haphazard, a few +scores of rubles to those people who asked me for them, and that +there remained in my hands twelve rubies contributed by the students, +and twenty-five sent to me by the City Council for my labor as a +superintendent, and I absolutely did not know to whom to give them. + +The whole matter came to an end. And then, before my departure for +the country, on the Sunday before carnival, I went to the Rzhanoff +house in the morning, in order to get rid of those thirty-seven +rubles before I should leave Moscow, and to distribute them to the +poor. I made the round of the quarters with which I was familiar, +and in them found only one sick man, to whom I gave five rubles. +There was no one else there to give any to. Of course many began to +beg of me. But as I had not known them at first, so I did not know +them now, and I made up my mind to take counsel with Ivan Fedotitch, +the landlord of the tavern, as to the persons upon whom it would be +proper to bestow the remaining thirty-two rubies. + +It was the first day of the carnival. Everybody was dressed up, and +everybody was full-fed, and many were already intoxicated. In the +court-yard, close to the house, stood an old man, a rag-picker, in a +tattered smock and bast shoes, sorting over the booty in his basket, +tossing out leather, iron, and other stuff in piles, and breaking +into a merry song, with a fine, powerful voice. I entered into +conversation with him. He was seventy years old, he was alone in the +world, and supported himself by his calling of a rag-picker; and not +only did he utter no complaints, but he said that he had plenty to +eat and drink. I inquired of him as to especially needy persons. He +flew into a rage, and said plainly that there were no needy people, +except drunkards and lazy men; but, on learning my object, he asked +me for a five-kopek piece to buy a drink, and ran off to the tavern. +I too entered the tavern to see Ivan Fedotitch, and commission him to +distribute the money which I had left. The tavern was full; gayly- +dressed, intoxicated girls were flitting in and out; all the tables +were occupied; there were already a great many drunken people, and in +the small room the harmonium was being played, and two persons were +dancing. Out of respect to me, Ivan Fedotitch ordered that the dance +should be stopped, and seated himself with me at a vacant table. I +said to him, that, as he knew his tenants, would not he point out to +me the most needy among them; that I had been entrusted with the +distribution of a little money, and, therefore, would he indicate the +proper persons? Good-natured Ivan Fedotitch (he died a year later), +although he was pressed with business, broke away from it for a time, +in order to serve me. He meditated, and was evidently undecided. An +elderly waiter heard us, and joined the conference. + +They began to discuss the claims of persons, some of whom I knew, but +still they could not come to any agreement. "The Paramonovna," +suggested the waiter. "Yes, that would do. Sometimes she has +nothing to eat. Yes, but then she tipples."--"Well, what of that? +That makes no difference."--"Well, Sidoron Ivanovitch has children. +He would do." But Ivan Fedotitch had his doubts about Sidoron +Ivanovitch also. "Akulina shall have some. There, now, give +something to the blind." To this I responded. I saw him at once. +He was a blind old man of eighty years, without kith or kin. It +seemed as though no condition could be more painful, and I went +immediately to see him. He was lying on a feather-bed, on a high +bedstead, drunk; and, as he did not see me, he was scolding his +comparatively youthful female companion in a frightful bass voice, +and in the very worst kind of language. They also summoned an +armless boy and his mother. I saw that Ivan Fedotitch was in great +straits, on account of his conscientiousness, for me knew that +whatever was given would immediately pass to his tavern. But I had +to get rid of my thirty-two rubles, so I insisted; and in one way and +another, and half wrongfully to boot, we assigned and distributed +them. Those who received them were mostly well dressed, and we had +not far to go to find them, as they were there in the tavern. The +armless boy appeared in wrinkled boots, and a red shirt and vest. +With this my charitable career came to an end, and I went off to the +country; irritated at others, as is always the case, because I myself +had done a stupid and a bad thing. My benevolence had ended in +nothing, and it ceased altogether, but the current of thoughts and +feelings which it had called up with me not only did not come to an +end, but the inward work went on with redoubled force. + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + + +What was its nature? + +I had lived in the country, and there I was connected with the rustic +poor. Not out of humility, which is worse than pride, but for the +sake of telling the truth, which is indispensable for the +understanding of the whole course of my thoughts and sentiments, I +will say that in the country I did very little for the poor, but the +demands which were made upon me were so modest that even this little +was of use to the people, and formed around me an atmosphere of +affection and union with the people, in which it was possible to +soothe the gnawing sensation of remorse at the independence of my +life. On going to the city, I had hoped to be able to live in the +same manner. But here I encountered want of an entirely different +sort. City want was both less real, and more exacting and cruel, +than country poverty. But the principal point was, that there was so +much of it in one spot, that it produced on me a frightful +impression. The impression which I experienced in the Lyapinsky +house had, at the very first, made me conscious of the deformity of +my own life. This feeling was genuine and very powerful. But, +notwithstanding its genuineness and power, I was, at that time, so +weak that I feared the alteration in my life to which this feeling +commended me, and I resorted to a compromise. I believed what +everybody told me, and everybody has said, ever since the world was +made,--that there is nothing evil in wealth and luxury, that they are +given by God, that one may continue to live as a rich man, and yet +help the needy. I believed this, and I tried to do it. I wrote an +essay, in which I summoned all rich people to my assistance. The +rich people all acknowledged themselves morally bound to agree with +me, but evidently they either did not wish to do any thing, or they +could not do any thing or give any thing to the poor. I began to +visit the poor, and I beheld what I had not in the least expected. +On the one hand, I beheld in those dens, as I called them, people +whom it was not conceivable that I should help, because they were +working people, accustomed to labor and privation, and therefore +standing much higher and having a much firmer foothold in life than +myself; on the other hand, I saw unfortunate people whom I could not +aid because they were exactly like myself. The majority of the +unfortunates whom I saw were unhappy only because they had lost the +capacity, desire, and habit of earning their own bread; that is to +say, their unhappiness consisted in the fact that they were precisely +such persons as myself. + +I found no unfortunates who were sick, hungry, or cold, to whom I +could render immediate assistance, with the solitary exception of +hungry Agafya. And I became convinced, that, on account of my +remoteness from the lives of those people whom I desired to help, it +would be almost impossible to find any such unfortunates, because all +actual wants had already been supplied by the very people among whom +these unfortunates live; and, most of all, I was convinced that money +cannot effect any change in the life led by these unhappy people. + +I was convinced of all this, but out of false shame at abandoning +what I had once undertaken, because of my self-delusion as a +benefactor, I went on with this matter for a tolerably long time,-- +and would have gone on with it until it came to nothing of itself,-- +so that it was with the greatest difficulty that, with the help of +Ivan Fedotitch, I got rid, after a fashion, as well as I could, in +the tavern of the Rzhanoff house, of the thirty-seven rubles which I +did not regard as belonging to me. + +Of course I might have gone on with this business, and have made out +of it a semblance of benevolence; by urging the people who had +promised me money, I might have collected more, I might have +distributed this money, and consoled myself with my charity; but I +perceived, on the one hand, that we rich people neither wish nor are +able to share a portion of our a superfluity with the poor (we have +so many wants of our own), and that money should not be given to any +one, if the object really be to do good and not to give money itself +at haphazard, as I had done in the Rzhanoff tavern. And I gave up +the whole thing, and went off to the country with despair in my +heart. + +In the country I tried to write an essay about all this that I had +experienced, and to tell why my undertaking had not succeeded. I +wanted to justify myself against the reproaches which had been made +to me on the score of my article on the census; I wanted to convict +society of its in difference, and to state the causes in which this +city poverty has its birth, and the necessity of combating it, and +the means of doing so which I saw. + +I began this essay at once, and it seemed to me that in it I was +saying a very great deal that was important. But toil as I would +over it, and in spite of the abundance of materials, in spite of the +superfluity of them even, I could not get though that essay; and so I +did not finish it until the present year, because of the irritation +under the influence of which I wrote, because I had not gone through +all that was requisite in order to bear myself properly in relation +to this essay, because I did not simply and clearly acknowledge the +cause of all this,--a very simple cause, which had its root in +myself. + +In the domain of morals, one very remarkable and too little noted +phenomenon presents itself. + +If I tell a man who knows nothing about it, what I know about +geology, astronomy, history, physics, and mathematics, that man +receives entirely new information, and he never says to me: "Well, +what is there new in that? Everybody knows that, and I have known it +this long while." But tell that same man the most lofty truth, +expressed in the clearest, most concise manner, as it has never +before been expressed, and every ordinary individual, especially one +who takes no particular interest in moral questions, or, even more, +one to whom the moral truth stated by you is displeasing, will +infallibly say to you: "Well, who does not know that? That was +known and said long ago." It really seems to him that this has been +said long ago and in just this way. Only those to whom moral truths +are dear and important know how important and precious they are, and +with what prolonged labor the elucidation, the simplification, of +moral truths, their transit from the state of a misty, indefinitely +recognized supposition, and desire, from indistinct, incoherent +expressions, to a firm and definite expression, unavoidably demanding +corresponding concessions, are attained. + +We have all become accustomed to think that moral instruction is a +most absurd and tiresome thing, in which there can be nothing new or +interesting; and yet all human life, together with all the varied and +complicated activities, apparently independent, of morality, both +governmental and scientific, and artistic and commercial, has no +other aim than the greater and greater elucidation, confirmation, +simplification, and accessibility of moral truth. + +I remember that I was once walking along the street in Moscow, and in +front of me I saw a man come out and gaze attentively at the stones +of the sidewalk, after which he selected one stone, seated himself on +it, and began to plane (as it seemed to me) or to rub it with the +greatest diligence and force. "What is he doing to the sidewalk?" I +said to myself. On going close to him, I saw what the man was doing. +He was a young fellow from a meat-shop; he was whetting his knife on +the stone of the pavement. He was not thinking at all of the stones +when he scrutinized them, still less was he thinking of them when he +was accomplishing his task: he was whetting his knife. He was +obliged to whet his knife so that he could cut the meat; but to me it +seemed as though he were doing something to the stones of the +sidewalk. Just so it appears as though humanity were occupied with +commerce, conventions, wars, sciences, arts; but only one business is +of importance to it, and with only one business is it occupied: it +is elucidating to itself those moral laws by which it lives. The +moral laws are already in existence; humanity is only elucidating +them, and this elucidation seems unimportant and imperceptible for +any one who has no need of moral laws, who does not wish to live by +them. But this elucidation of the moral law is not only weighty, but +the only real business of all humanity. This elucidation is +imperceptible just as the difference between the dull and the sharp +knife is imperceptible. The knife is a knife all the same, and for a +person who is not obliged to cut any thing with this knife, the +difference between the dull and the sharp one is imperceptible. For +the man who has come to an understanding that his whole life depends +on the greater or less degree of sharpness in the knife,--for such a +man, every whetting of it is weighty, and that man knows that the +knife is a knife only when it is sharp, when it cuts that which needs +cutting. + +This is what happened to me, when I began to write my essay. It +seemed to me that I knew all about it, that I understood every thing +connected with those questions which had produced on me the +impressions of the Lyapinsky house, and the census; but when I +attempted to take account of them and to demonstrate them, it turned +out that the knife would not cut, and that it must be whetted. And +it is only now, after the lapse of three years, that I have felt that +my knife is sufficiently sharp, so that I can cut what I choose. I +have learned very little that is new. My thoughts are all exactly +the same, but they were duller then, and they all scattered and would +not unite on any thing; there was no edge to them; they would not +concentrate on one point, on the simplest and clearest decision, as +they have now concentrated themselves. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + + +I remember that during the entire period of my unsuccessful efforts +at helping the inhabitants of the city, I presented to myself the +aspect of a man who should attempt to drag another man out of a swamp +while he himself was standing on the same unstable ground. Every +attempt of mine had made me conscious of the untrustworthy character +of the soil on which I stood. I felt that I was in the swamp myself, +but this consciousness did not cause me to look more narrowly at my +own feet, in order to learn upon what I was standing; I kept on +seeking some external means, outside myself, of helping the existing +evil. + +I then felt that my life was bad, and that it was impossible to live +in that manner. But from the fact that my life was bad, and that it +was impossible to live in that manner, I did not draw the very simple +and clear deduction that it was necessary to amend my life and to +live better, but I knew the terrible deduction that in order to live +well myself, I must needs reform the lives of others; and so I began +to reform the lives of others. I lived in the city, and I wished to +reform the lives of those who lived in the city; but I soon became +convinced that this I could not by any possibility accomplish, and I +began to meditate on the inherent characteristics of city life and +city poverty. + +"What are city life and city poverty? Why, when I am living in the +city, cannot I help the city poor?" + +I asked myself. I answered myself that I could not do any thing for +them, in the first place, because there were too many of them here in +one spot; in the second place, because all the poor people here were +entirely different from the country poor. Why were there so many of +them here? and in what did their peculiarity, as opposed to the +country poor, consist? There was one and the same answer to both +questions. There were a great many of them here, because here all +those people who have no means of subsistence in the country collect +around the rich; and their peculiarity lies in this, that they are +not people who have come from the country to support themselves in +the city (if there are any city paupers, those who have been born +here, and whose fathers and grandfathers were born here, then those +fathers and grandfathers came hither for the purpose of earning their +livelihood). What is the meaning of this: TO EARN ONE'S LIVELIHOOD +IN THE CITY? In the words "to earn one's livelihood in the city," +there is something strange, resembling a jest, when you reflect on +their significance. How is it that people go from the country,--that +is to say, from the places where there are forests, meadows, grain, +and cattle, where all the wealth of the earth lies,--to earn their +livelihood in a place where there are neither trees, nor grass, nor +even land, and only stones and dust? What is the significance of the +words "to earn a livelihood in the city," which are in such constant +use, both by those who earn the livelihood, and by those who furnish +it, as though it were something perfectly clear and comprehensible? + +I recall the hundreds and thousands of city people, both those who +live well and the needy, with whom I have conversed on the reason why +they came hither: and all without exception said, that they had come +from the country to earn their living; that in Moscow, where people +neither sow nor reap,--that in Moscow there is plenty of every thing, +and that, therefore, it is only in Moscow that they can earn the +money which they require in the country for bread and a cottage and a +horse, and articles of prime necessity. But assuredly, in the +country lies the source of all riches; there only is real wealth,-- +bread, and forests, and horses, and every thing. And why, above all, +take away from the country that which dwellers in the country need,-- +flour, oats, horses, and cattle? + +Hundreds of times did I discuss this matter with peasants living in +town; and from my discussions with them, and from my observations, it +has been made apparent to me, that the congregation of country people +in the city is partly indispensable because they cannot otherwise +support themselves, partly voluntary, and that they are attracted to +the city by the temptations of the city. + +It is true, that the position of the peasant is such that, for the +satisfaction of his demands made on him in the country, he cannot +extricate himself otherwise than by selling the grain and the cattle +which he knows will be indispensable to him; and he is forced, +whether he will or no, to go to the city in order there to win back +his bread. But it is also true, that the luxury of city life, and +the comparative ease with which money is there to be earned, attract +him thither; and under the pretext of gaining his living in the town, +he betakes himself thither in order that he may have lighter work, +better food, and drink tea three times a day, and dress well, and +even lead a drunken and dissolute life. The cause of both is +identical,--the transfer of the riches of the producers into the +hands of non-producers, and the accumulation of wealth in the cities. +And, in point of fact, when autumn has come, all wealth is collected +in the country. And instantly there arise demands for taxes, +recruits, the temptations of vodka, weddings, festivals; petty +pedlers make their rounds through the villages, and all sorts of +other temptations crop up; and by this road, or, if not, by some +other, wealth of the most varied description--vegetables, calves, +cows, horses, pigs, chickens, eggs, butter, hemp, flax, rye, oats, +buckwheat, pease, hempseed, and flaxseed--all passes into the hands +of strangers, is carried off to the towns, and thence to the +capitals. The countryman is obliged to surrender all this to satisfy +the demands that are made upon him, and temptations; and, having +parted with his wealth, he is left with an insufficiency, and he is +forced to go whither his wealth has been carried and there he tries, +in part, to obtain the money which he requires for his first needs in +the country, and in part, being himself led away by the blandishments +of the city, he enjoys, in company with others, the wealth that has +there accumulated. Everywhere, throughout the whole of Russia,--yes, +and not in Russia alone, I think, but throughout the whole world,-- +the same thing goes on. The wealth of the rustic producers passes +into the hands of traders, landed proprietors, officials, and +factory-owners; and the people who receive this wealth wish to enjoy +it. But it is only in the city that they can derive full enjoyment +from this wealth. In the country, in the first place, it is +difficult to satisfy all the requirements of rich people, on account +of the sparseness of the population; banks, shops, hotels, every sort +of artisan, and all sorts of social diversions, do not exist there. +In the second place, one of the chief pleasures procured by wealth-- +vanity, the desire to astonish and outshine other people--is +difficult to satisfy in the country; and this, again, on account of +the lack of inhabitants. In the country, there is no one to +appreciate elegance, no one to be astonished. Whatever adornments in +the way of pictures and bronzes the dweller in the country may +procure for his house, whatever equipages and toilets he may provide, +there is no one to see them and envy them, and the peasants cannot +judge of them. [And, in the third place, luxury is even disagreeable +and dangerous in the country for the man possessed of a conscience +and fear. It is an awkward and delicate matter, in the country, to +have baths of milk, or to feed your puppies on it, when directly +beside you there are children who have no milk; it is an awkward and +delicate matter to build pavilions and gardens in the midst of people +who live in cots banked up with dung, which they have no means of +warming. In the country there is no one to keep the stupid peasants +in order, and in their lack of cultivation they might disarrange all +this.] {11} + +And accordingly rich people congregate, and join themselves to other +rich people with similar requirements, in the city, where the +gratification of every luxurious taste is carefully protected by a +numerous police force. Well-rooted inhabitants of the city of this +sort, are the governmental officials; every description of artisan +and professional man has sprung up around them, and with them the +wealthy join their forces. All that a rich man has to do there is to +take a fancy to a thing, and he can get it. It is also more +agreeable for a rich man to live there, because there he can gratify +his vanity; there is some one with whom he can vie in luxury; there +is some one to astonish, and there is some one to outshine. But the +principal reason why it is more comfortable in the city for a rich +man is that formerly, in the country, his luxury made him awkward and +uneasy; while now, on the contrary, it would be awkward for him not +to live luxuriously, not to live like all his peers around him. That +which seemed dreadful and awkward in the country, here appears to be +just as it should be. [Rich people congregate in the city; and +there, under the protection of the authorities, they calmly demand +every thing that is brought thither from the country. And the +countryman is, in some measure, compelled to go thither, where this +uninterrupted festival of the wealthy which demands all that is taken +from him is in progress, in order to feed upon the crumbs which fall +from the tables of the rich; and partly, also, because, when he +beholds the care-free, luxurious life, approved and protected by +everybody, he himself becomes desirous of regulating his life in such +a way as to work as little as possible, and to make as much use as +possible of the labors of others. + +And so he betakes himself to the city, and finds employment about the +wealthy, endeavoring, by every means in his power, to entice from +them that which he is in need of, and conforming to all those +conditions which the wealthy impose upon him, he assists in the +gratification of all their whims; he serves the rich man in the bath +and in the inn, and as cab-driver and prostitute, and he makes for +him equipages, toys, and fashions; and he gradually learns from the +rich man to live in the same manner as the latter, not by labor, but +by divers tricks, getting away from others the wealth which they have +heaped together; and he becomes corrupt, and goes to destruction. +And this colony, demoralized by city wealth, constitutes that city +pauperism which I desired to aid and could not. + +All that is necessary, in fact, is for us to reflect on the condition +of these inhabitants of the country, who have removed to the city in +order to earn their bread or their taxes,--when they behold, +everywhere around them, thousands squandered madly, and hundreds won +by the easiest possible means; when they themselves are forced by +heavy toil to earn kopeks,--and we shall be amazed that all these +people should remain working people, and that they do not all of them +take to an easier method of getting gain,--by trading, peddling, +acting as middlemen, begging, vice, rascality, and even robbery. +Why, we, the participants in that never-ceasing orgy which goes on in +town, can become so accustomed to our life, that it seems to us +perfectly natural to dwell alone in five huge apartments, heated by a +quantity of beech logs sufficient to cook the food for and to warm +twenty families; to drive half a verst with two trotters and two men- +servants; to cover the polished wood floor with rugs; and to spend, I +will not say, on a ball, five or ten thousand rubles, and twenty-five +thousand on a Christmas-tree. But a man who is in need of ten rubles +to buy bread for his family, or whose last sheep has been seized for +a tax-debt of seven rubles, and who cannot raise those rubles by hard +labor, cannot grow accustomed to this. We think that all this +appears natural to poor people there are even some ingenuous persons +who say in all seriousness, that the poor are very grateful to us for +supporting them by this luxury.] {12} + +But poor people are not devoid of human understanding simply because +they are poor, and they judge precisely as we do. As the first +thought that occurs to us on hearing that such and such a man has +gambled away or squandered ten or twenty thousand rubles, is: "What +a foolish and worthless fellow he is to uselessly squander so much +money! and what a good use I could have made of that money in a +building which I have long been in need of, for the improvement of my +estate, and so forth!"--just so do the poor judge when they behold +the wealth which they need, not for caprices, but for the +satisfaction of their actual necessities, of which they are +frequently deprived, flung madly away before their eyes. We make a +very great mistake when we think that the poor can judge thus, reason +thus, and look on indifferently at the luxury which surrounds them. + +They never have acknowledged, and they never will acknowledge, that +it can be just for some people to live always in idleness, and for +other people to fast and toil incessantly; but at first they are +amazed and insulted by this; then they scrutinize it more +attentively, and, seeing that these arrangements are recognized as +legitimate, they endeavor to free themselves from toil, and to take +part in the idleness. Some succeed in this, and they become just +such carousers themselves; others gradually prepare themselves for +this state; others still fail, and do not attain their goal, and, +having lost the habit of work, they fill up the disorderly houses and +the night-lodging houses. + +Two years ago, we took from the country a peasant boy to wait on +table. For some reason, he did not get on well with the footman, and +he was sent away: he entered the service of a merchant, won the +favor of his master, and now he goes about with a vest and a watch- +chain, and dandified boots. In his place, we took another peasant, a +married man: he became a drunkard, and lost money. We took a third: +he took to drunk, and, having drank up every thing he had, he +suffered for a long while from poverty in the night-lodging house. +An old man, the cook, took to drink and fell sick. Last year a +footman who had formerly been a hard drinker, but who had refrained +from liquor for five years in the country, while living in Moscow +without his wife who encouraged him, took to drink again, and ruined +his whole life. A young lad from our village lives with my brother +as a table-servant. His grandfather, a blind old man, came to me +during my sojourn in the country, and asked me to remind this +grandson that he was to send ten rubies for the taxes, otherwise it +would be necessary for him to sell his cow. "He keeps saying, I must +dress decently," said the old man: "well, he has had some shoes +made, and that's all right; but what does he want to set up a watch +for?" said the grandfather, expressing in these words the most +senseless supposition that it was possible to originate. The +supposition really was senseless, if we take into consideration that +the old man throughout Lent had eaten no butter, and that he had no +split wood because he could not possibly pay one ruble and twenty +kopeks for it; but it turned out that the old man's senseless jest +was an actual fact. The young fellow came to see me in a fine black +coat, and shoes for which he had paid eight rubles. He had recently +borrowed ten rubles from my brother, and had spent them on these +shoes. And my children, who have known the lad from childhood, told +me that he really considers it indispensable to fit himself out with +a watch. He is a very good boy, but he thinks that people will laugh +at him so long as he has no watch; and a watch is necessary. During +the present year, a chambermaid, a girl of eighteen, entered into a +connection with the coachman in our house. She was discharged. An +old woman, the nurse, with whom I spoke in regard to the unfortunate +girl, reminded me of a girl whom I had forgotten. She too, ten yeans +ago, during a brief stay of ours in Moscow, had become connected with +a footman. She too had been discharged, and she had ended in a +disorderly house, and had died in the hospital before reaching the +age of twenty. It is only necessary to glance about one, to be +struck with terror at the pest which we disseminate directly by our +luxurious life among the people whom we afterwards wish to help, not +to mention the factories and establishments which serve our luxurious +tastes. + +[And thus, having penetrated into the peculiar character of city +poverty, which I was unable to remedy, I perceived that its prime +cause is this, that I take absolute necessaries from the dwellers in +the country, and carry them all to the city. The second cause is +this, that by making use here, in the city, of what I have collected +in the country, I tempt and lead astray, by my senseless luxury, +those country people who come hither because of me, in order in some +way to get back what they have been deprived of in the country.] {13} + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + + +I reached the same conclusion from a totally different point. On +recalling all my relations with the city poor during that time, I saw +that one of the reasons why I could not help the city poor was, that +the poor were disingenuous and untruthful with me. They all looked +upon me, not as a man, but as means. I could not get near them, and +I thought that perhaps I did not understand how to do it; but without +uprightness, no help was possible. How can one help a man who does +not disclose his whole condition? At first I blamed them for this +(it is so natural to blame some one else); but a remark from an +observing man named Siutaeff, who was visiting me at the time, +explained this matter to me, and showed me where the cause of my want +of success lay. I remember that Siutaeff's remark struck me very +forcibly at the time; but I only understood its full significance +later on. It was at the height of my self-delusion. I was sitting +with my sister, and Siutaeff was there also at her house; and my +sister was questioning me about my undertaking. I told her about it, +and, as always happens when you have no faith in your course, I +talked to her with great enthusiasm and warmth, and at great length, +of what I had done, and of what might possibly come of it. I told +her every thing,--how we were going to keep track of pauperism in +Moscow, how we were going to keep an eye on the orphans and old +people, how we were going to send away all country people who had +grown poor here, how we were going to smooth the pathway to reform +for the depraved; how, if only the matter could be managed, there +would not be a man left in Moscow, who could not obtain assistance. +My sister sympathized with me, and we discussed it. In the middle of +our conversation, I glanced at Siutaeff. As I was acquainted with +his Christian life, and with the significance which he attached to +charity, I expected his sympathy, and spoke so that he understood +this; I talked to my sister, but directed my remarks more at him. He +sat immovable in his dark tanned sheepskin jacket,--which he wore, +like all peasants, both out of doors and in the house,--and as though +he did not hear us, but were thinking of his own affairs. His small +eyes did not twinkle, and seemed to be turned inwards. Having +finished what I had to say, I turned to him with a query as to what +he thought of it. + +"It's all a foolish business," said he. + +"Why?" + +"Your whole society is foolish, and nothing good can come out of it," +he repeated with conviction. + +"Why not? Why is it a stupid business to help thousands, at any rate +hundreds, of unfortunate beings? Is it a bad thing, according to the +Gospel, to clothe the naked, and feed the hungry?" + +"I know, I know, but that is not what you are doing. Is it necessary +to render assistance in that way? You are walking along, and a man +asks you for twenty kopeks. You give them to him. Is that alms? Do +you give spiritual alms,--teach him. But what is it that you have +given? It was only for the sake of getting rid of him." + +"No; and, besides, that is not what we are talking about. We want to +know about this need, and then to help by both money and deeds; and +to find work." + +"You can do nothing with those people in that way." + +"So they are to be allowed to die of hunger and cold?" + +"Why should they die? Are there many of them there?" + +"What, many of them?" said I, thinking that he looked at the matter +so lightly because he was not aware how vast was the number of these +people. + +"Why, do you know," said I, "I believe that there are twenty thousand +of these cold and hungry people in Moscow. And how about Petersburg +and the other cities?" + +He smiled. + +"Twenty thousand! And how many households are there in Russia alone, +do you think? Are there a million?" + +"Well, what then?" + +"What then?" and his eyes flashed, and he grew animated. "Come, let +us divide them among ourselves. I am not rich, I will take two +persons on the spot. There is the lad whom you took into your +kitchen; I invited him to come to my house, and he did not come. +Were there ten times as many, let us divide them among us. Do you +take some, and I will take some. We will work together. He will see +how I work, and he will learn. He will see how I live, and we will +sit down at the same table together, and he will hear my words and +yours. This charity society of yours is nonsense." + +These simple words impressed me. I could not but admit their +justice; but it seemed to me at that time, that, in spite of their +truth, still that which I had planned might possibly prove of +service. But the further I carried this business, the more I +associated with the poor, the more frequently did this remark recur +to my mind, and the greater was the significance which it acquired +for me. + +I arrive in a costly fur coat, or with my horses; or the man who +lacks shoes sees my two-thousand-ruble apartments. He sees how, a +little while ago, I gave five rubles without begrudging them, merely +because I took a whim to do so. He surely knows that if I give away +rubles in that manner, it is only because I have hoarded up so many +of them, that I have a great many superfluous ones, which I not only +have not given away, but which I have easily taken from other people. +[What else could he see in me but one of those persons who have got +possession of what belongs to him? And what other feeling can he +cherish towards me, than a desire to obtain from me as many of those +rubles, which have been stolen from him and from others, as possible? +I wish to get close to him, and I complain that he is not frank; and +here I am, afraid to sit down on his bed for fear of getting lice, or +catching something infectious; and I am afraid to admit him to my +room, and he, coming to me naked, waits, generally in the vestibule, +or, if very fortunate, in the ante-chamber. And yet I declare that +he is to blame because I cannot enter into intimate relations with +him, and because me is not frank. + +Let the sternest man try the experiment of eating a dinner of five +courses in the midst of people who have had very little or nothing +but black bread to eat. Not a man will have the spirit to eat, and +to watch how the hungry lick their chops around him. Hence, then, in +order to eat daintily amid the famishing, the first indispensable +requisite is to hide from them, in order that they may not see it. +This is the very thing, and the first thing, that we do. + +And I took a simpler view of our life, and perceived that an approach +to the poor is not difficult to us through accidental causes, but +that we deliberately arrange our lives in such a fashion so that this +approach may be rendered difficult. + +Not only this; but, on taking a survey of our life, of the life of +the wealthy, I saw that every thing which is considered desirable in +that life consists in, or is inseparably bound up with, the idea of +getting as far away from the poor as possible. In fact, all the +efforts of our well-endowed life, beginning with our food, dress, +houses, our cleanliness, and even down to our education,--every thing +has for its chief object, the separation of ourselves from the poor. +In procuring this seclusion of ourselves by impassable barriers, we +spend, to put it mildly, nine-tenths of our wealth. The first thing +that a man who was grown wealthy does is to stop eating out of one +bowl, and he sets up crockery, and fits himself out with a kitchen +and servants. And he feeds his servants high, too, so that their +mouths may not water over his dainty viands; and he eats alone; and +as eating in solitude is wearisome, he plans how he may improve his +food and deck his table; and the very manner of taking his food +(dinner) becomes a matter for pride and vain glory with him, and his +manner of taking his food becomes for him a means of sequestering +himself from other men. A rich man cannot think of such a thing as +inviting a poor man to his table. A man must know how to conduct +ladies to table, how to bow, to sit down, to eat, to rinse out the +mouth; and only rich people know all these things. The same thing +occurs in the matter of clothing. If a rich man were to wear +ordinary clothing, simply for the purpose of protecting his body from +the cold,--a short jacket, a coat, felt and leather boots, an under- +jacket, trousers, shirt,--he would require but very little, and he +would not be unable, when he had two coats, to give one of them to a +man who had none. But the rich man begins by procuring for himself +clothing which consists entirely of separate pieces, and which is fit +only for separate occasions, and which is, therefore, unsuited to the +poor man. He has frock-coats, vests, pea-jackets, lacquered boots, +cloaks, shoes with French heels, garments that are chopped up into +bits to conform with the fashion, hunting-coats, travelling-coats, +and so on, which can only be used under conditions of existence far +removed from poverty. And his clothing also furnishes him with a +means of keeping at a distance from the poor. The same is the case, +and even more clearly, with his dwelling. In order that one may live +alone in ten rooms, it is indispensable that those who live ten in +one room should not see it. The richer a man is, the more difficult +is he of access; the more porters there are between him and people +who are not rich, the more impossible is it to conduct a poor man +over rugs, and seat him in a satin chair. + +The case is the same with the means of locomotion. The peasant +driving in a cart, or a sledge, must be a very ill-tempered man when +he will not give a pedestrian a lift; and there is both room for this +and a possibility of doing it. But the richer the equipage, the +farther is a man from all possibility of giving a seat to any person +whatsoever. It is even said plainly, that the most stylish equipages +are those meant to hold only one person. + +It is precisely the same thing with the manner of life which is +expressed by the word cleanliness. + +Cleanliness! Who is there that does not know people, especially +women, who reckon this cleanliness in themselves as a great virtue? +and who is not acquainted with the devices of this cleanliness, which +know no bounds, when it can command the labor of others? Which of +the people who have become rich has not experienced in his own case, +with what difficulty he carefully trained himself to this +cleanliness, which only confirms the proverb, "Little white hands +love other people's work"? + +To-day cleanliness consists in changing your shirt once a day; to- +morrow, in changing it twice a day. To-day it means washing the +face, and neck, and hands daily; to-morrow, the feet; and day after +to-morrow, washing the whole body every day, and, in addition and in +particular, a rubbing-down. To-day the table-cloth is to serve for +two days, to-morrow there must be one each day, then two a day. To- +day the footman's hands must be clean; to-morrow he must wear gloves, +and in his clean gloves he must present a letter on a clean salver. +And there are no limits to this cleanliness, which is useless to +everybody, and objectless, except for the purpose of separating +oneself from others, and of rendering impossible all intercourse with +them, when this cleanliness is attained by the labors of others. + +Moreover, when I studied the subject, I because convinced that even +that which is commonly called education is the very same thing. + +The tongue does not deceive; it calls by its real name that which men +understand under this name. What the people call culture is +fashionable clothing, political conversation, clean hands,--a certain +sort of cleanliness. Of such a man, it is said, in contradistinction +to others, that he is an educated man. In a little higher circle, +what they call education means the same thing as with the people; +only to the conditions of education are added playing on the +pianoforte, a knowledge of French, the writing of Russian without +orthographical errors, and a still greater degree of external +cleanliness. In a still more elevated sphere, education means all +this with the addition of the English language, and a diploma from +the highest educational institution. But education is precisely the +same thing in the first, the second, and the third case. Education +consists of those forms and acquirements which are calculated to +separate a man from his fellows. And its object is identical with +that of cleanliness,--to seclude us from the herd of poor, in order +that they, the poor, may not see how we feast. But it is impossible +to hide ourselves, and they do see us. + +And accordingly I have become convinced that the cause of the +inability of us rich people to help the poor of the city lies in the +impossibility of our establishing intercourse with them; and that +this impossibility of intercourse is caused by ourselves, by the +whole course of our lives, by all the uses which we make of our +wealth. I have become convinced that between us, the rich and the +poor, there rises a wall, reared by ourselves out of that very +cleanliness and education, and constructed of our wealth; and that in +order to be in a condition to help the poor, we must needs, first of +all, destroy this wall; and that in order to do this, confrontation +after Siutaeff's method should be rendered possible, and the poor +distributed among us. And from another starting-point also I came to +the same conclusion to which the current of my discussions as to the +causes of the poverty in towns had led me: the cause was our +wealth.] {14} + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + + +I began to examine the matter from a third and wholly personal point +of view. Among the phenomena which particularly impressed me, during +the period of my charitable activity, there was yet another, and a +very strange one, for which I could for a long time find no +explanation. It was this: every time that I chanced, either on the +street on in the house, to give some small coin to a poor man, +without saying any thing to him, I saw, or thought that I saw, +contentment and gratitude on the countenance of the poor man, and I +myself experienced in this form of benevolence an agreeable +sensation. I saw that I had done what the man wished and expected +from me. But if I stopped the poor man, and sympathetically +questioned him about his former and his present life, I felt that it +was no longer possible to give three or twenty kopeks, and I began to +fumble in my purse for money, in doubt as to how much I ought to +give, and I always gave more; and I always noticed that the poor man +left me dissatisfied. But if I entered into still closer intercourse +with the poor man, then my doubts as to how much to give increased +also; and, no matter how much I gave, the poor man grew ever more +sullen and discontented. As a general rule, it always turned out +thus, that if I gave, after conversation with a poor man, three +rubles or even more, I almost always beheld gloom, displeasure, and +even ill-will, on the countenance of the poor man; and I have even +known it to happen, that, having received ten rubles, he went off +without so much as saying "Thank you," exactly as though I had +insulted him. + +And thereupon I felt awkward and ashamed, and almost guilty. But if +I followed up a poor man for weeks and months and years, and assisted +him, and explained my views to him, and associated with him, our +relations became a torment, and I perceived that the man despised me. +And I felt that he was in the right. + +If I go out into the street, and he, standing in that street, begs of +me among the number of the other passers-by, people who walk and ride +past him, and I give him money, I then am to him a passer-by, and a +good, kind passer-by, who bestows on him that thread from which a +shirt is made for the naked man; he expects nothing more than the +thread, and if I give it he thanks me sincerely. But if I stop him, +and talk with him as man with man, I thereby show him that I desire +to be something more than a mere passer-by. If, as often happens, he +weeps while relating to me his woes, then he sees in me no longer a +passer-by, but that which I desire that he should see: a good man. +But if I am a good man, my goodness cannot pause at a twenty-kopek +piece, nor at ten rubles, nor at ten thousand; it is impossible to be +a little bit of a good man. Let us suppose that I have given him a +great deal, that I have fitted him out, dressed him, set him on his +feet so that the can live without outside assistance; but for some +reason or other, though misfortune or his own weakness or vices, he +is again without that coat, that linen, and that money which I have +given him; he is again cold and hungry, and he has come again to me,- +-how can I refuse him? [For if the cause of my action consisted in +the attainment of a definite, material end, on giving him so many +rubles or such and such a coat I might be at ease after having +bestowed them. But the cause of my action is not this: the cause +is, that I want to be a good man, that is to say, I want to see +myself in every other man. Every man understands goodness thus, and +in no other manner.] {15} And therefore, if he should drink away +every thing that you had given him twenty times, and if he should +again be cold and hungry, you cannot do otherwise than give him more, +if you are a good man; you can never cease giving to him, if you have +more than he has. And if you draw back, you will thereby show that +every thing that you have done, you have done not because you are a +good man, but because you wished to appear a good man in his sight, +and in the sight of men. + +And thus in the case with the men from whom I chanced to recede, to +whom I ceased to give, and, by this action, denied good, I +experienced a torturing sense of shame. + +What sort of shame was this? This shame I had experienced in the +Lyapinsky house, and both before and after that in the country, when +I happened to give money or any thing else to the poor, and in my +expeditions among the city poor. + +A mortifying incident that occurred to me not long ago vividly +reminded me of that shame, and led me to an explanation of that shame +which I had felt when bestowing money on the poor. + +[This happened in the country. I wanted twenty kopeks to give to a +poor pilgrim; I sent my son to borrow them from some one; he brought +the pilgrim a twenty-kopek piece, and told me that he had borrowed it +from the cook. A few days afterwards some more pilgrims arrived, and +again I was in want of a twenty-kopek piece. I had a ruble; I +recollected that I was in debt to the cook, and I went to the +kitchen, hoping to get some more small change from the cook. I said: +"I borrowed a twenty-kopek piece from you, so here is a ruble." I +had not finished speaking, when the cook called in his wife from +another room: "Take it, Parasha," said he. I, supposing that she +understood what I wanted, handed her the ruble. I must state that +the cook had only lived with me a week, and, though I had seen his +wife, I had never spoken to her. I was just on the point of saying +to her that she was to give me some small coins, when she bent +swiftly down to my hand, and tried to kiss it, evidently imaging that +I had given her the ruble. I muttered something, and quitted the +kitchen. I was ashamed, ashamed to the verge of torture, as I had +not been for a long time. I shrank together; I was conscious that I +was making grimaces, and I groaned with shame as I fled from the +kitchen. This utterly unexpected, and, as it seemed to me, utterly +undeserved shame, made a special impression on me, because it was a +long time since I had been mortified, and because I, as an old man, +had so lived, it seemed to me, that I had not merited this shame. I +was forcibly struck by this. I told the members of my household +about it, I told my acquaintances, and they all agreed that they +should have felt the same. And I began to reflect: why had this +caused me such shame? To this, something which had happened to me in +Moscow furnished me with an answer. + +I meditated on that incident, and the shame which I had experienced +in the presence of the cook's wife was explained to me, and all those +sensations of mortification which I had undergone during the course +of my Moscow benevolence, and which I now feel incessantly when I +have occasion to give any one any thing except that petty alms to the +poor and to pilgrims, which I have become accustomed to bestow, and +which I consider a deed not of charity but of courtesy. If a man +asks you for a light, you must strike a match for him, if you have +one. If a man asks for three or for twenty kopeks, or even for +several rubles, you must give them if you have them. This is an act +of courtesy and not of charity.] {16} + +This was the case in question: I have already mentioned the two +peasants with whom I was in the habit of sawing wood three yeans ago. +One Saturday evening at dusk, I was returning to the city in their +company. They were going to their employer to receive their wages. +As we were crossing the Dragomilovsky bridge, we met an old man. He +asked alms, and I gave him twenty kopeks. I gave, and reflected on +the good effect which my charity would have on Semyon, with whom I +had been conversing on religious topics. Semyon, the Vladimir +peasant, who had a wife and two children in Moscow, halted also, +pulled round the skirt of his kaftan, and got out his purse, and from +this slender purse he extracted, after some fumbling, three kopeks, +handed it to the old man, and asked for two kopeks in change. The +old man exhibited in his hand two three-kopek pieces and one kopek. +Semyon looked at them, was about to take the kopek, but thought +better of it, pulled off his hat, crossed himself, and walked on, +leaving the old man the three-kopek piece. + +I was fully acquainted with Semyon's financial condition. He had no +property at home at all. The money which he had laid by on the day +when he gave three kopeks amounted to six rubles and fifty kopeks. +Accordingly, six rubles and twenty kopeks was the sum of his savings. +My reserve fund was in the neighborhood of six hundred thousand. I +had a wife and children, Semyon had a wife and children. He was +younger than I, and his children were fewer in number than mine; but +his children were small, and two of mine were of an age to work, so +that our position, with the exception of the savings, was on an +equality; mine was somewhat the more favorable, if any thing. He +gave three kopeks, I gave twenty. What did he really give, and what +did I really give? What ought I to have given, in order to do what +Semyon had done? he had six hundred kopeks; out of this he gave one, +and afterwards two. I had six hundred thousand rubles. In order to +give what Semyon had given, I should have been obliged to give three +thousand rubles, and ask for two thousand in change, and then leave +the two thousand with the old man, cross myself, and go my way, +calmly conversing about life in the factories, and the cost of liver +in the Smolensk market. + +I thought of this at the time; but it was only long afterwards that I +was in a condition to draw from this incident that deduction which +inevitably results from it. This deduction is so uncommon and so +singular, apparently, that, in spite of its mathematical +infallibility, one requires time to grow used to it. It does seem as +though there must be some mistake, but mistake there is none. There +is merely the fearful mist of error in which we live. + +[This deduction, when I arrived at it, and when I recognized its +undoubted truth, furnished me with an explanation of my shame in the +presence of the cook's wife, and of all the poor people to whom I had +given and to whom I still give money. + +What, in point of fact, is that money which I give to the poor, and +which the cook's wife thought I was giving to her? In the majority +of cases, it is that portion of my substance which it is impossible +even to express in figures to Semyon and the cook's wife,--it is +generally one millionth part or about that. I give so little that +the bestowal of any money is not and cannot be a deprivation to me; +it is only a pleasure in which I amuse myself when the whim seizes +me. And it was thus that the cook's wife understood it. If I give +to a man who steps in from the street one ruble or twenty kopeks, why +should not I give her a ruble also? In the opinion of the cook's +wife, such a bestowal of money is precisely the same as the flinging +of honey-cakes to the people by gentlemen; it furnishes the people +who have a great deal of superfluous cash with amusement. I was +mortified because the mistake made by the cook's wife demonstrated to +me distinctly the view which she, and all people who are not rich, +must take of me: "He is flinging away his folly, i.e., his unearned +money." + +As a matter of fact, what is my money, and whence did it come into my +possession? A portion of it I accumulated from the land which I +received from my father. A peasant sold his last sheep or cow in +order to give the money to me. Another portion of my money is the +money which I have received for my writings, for my books. If my +books are hurtful, I only lead astray those who purchase them, and +the money which I receive for them is ill-earned money; but if my +books are useful to people, then the issue is still more disastrous. +I do not give them to people: I say, "Give me seventeen rubles, and +I will give them to you." And as the peasant sells his last sheep, +in this case the poor student or teacher, or any other poor man, +deprives himself of necessaries in order to give me this money. And +so I have accumulated a great deal of money in that way, and what do +I do with it? I take that money to the city, and bestow it on the +poor, only when they fulfil my caprices, and come hither to the city +to clean my sidewalk, lamps, and shoes; to work for me in factories. +And in return for this money, I force from them every thing that I +can; that is to say, I try to give them as little as possible, and to +receive as much as possible from them. And all at once I begin, +quite unexpectedly, to bestow this money as a simple gift, on these +same poor persons, not on all, but on those to whom I take a fancy. +Why should not every poor person expect that it is quite possible +that the luck may fall to him of being one of those with whom I shall +amuse myself by distributing my superfluous money? And so all look +upon me as the cook's wife did. + +And I had gone so far astray that this taking of thousands from the +poor with one hand, and this flinging of kopeks with the other, to +those to whom the whim moved me to give, I called good. No wonder +that I felt ashamed.] {17} + +Yes, before doing good it was needful for me to stand outside of +evil, in such conditions that I might cease to do evil. But my whole +life is evil. I may give away a hundred thousand rubles, and still I +shall not be in a position to do good because I shall still have five +hundred thousand left. Only when I have nothing shall I be in a +position to do the least particle of good, even as much as the +prostitute did which she nursed the sick women and her child for +three days. And that seemed so little to me! And I dared to think +of good myself! That which, on the first occasion, told me, at the +sight of the cold and hungry in the Lyapinsky house, that I was to +blame for this, and that to live as I live is impossible, and +impossible, and impossible,--that alone was true. + +What, then, was I to do? + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + + +It was hard for me to come to this confession, but when I had come to +it I was shocked at the error in which I had been living. I stood up +to my ears in the mud, and yet I wanted to drag others out of this +mud. + +What is it that I wish in reality? I wish to do good to others. I +wish to do it so that other people may not be cold and hungry, so +that others may live as it is natural for people to live. + +[I wish this, and I see that in consequence of the violence, +extortions, and various tricks in which I take part, people who toil +are deprived of necessaries, and people who do not toil, in whose +ranks I also belong, enjoy in superabundance the toil of other +people. + +I see that this enjoyment of the labors of others is so arranged, +that the more rascally and complicated the trickery which is employed +by the man himself, or which has been employed by the person from +whom he obtained his inheritance, the more does he enjoy of the +labors of others, and the less does he contribute of his own labor. + +First come the Shtiglitzy, Dervizy, Morozovy, the Demidoffs, the +Yusapoffs; then great bankers, merchants, officials, landed +proprietors, among whom I also belong; then the poor--very small +traders, dramshop-keepers, usurers, district judges, overseers, +teachers, sacristans, clerks; then house-porters, lackeys, coachmen, +watch-carriers, cab-drivers, peddlers; and last of all, the laboring +classes--factory-hands and peasants, whose numbers bear the relation +to the first named of ten to one. I see that the life of nine-tenths +of the working classes demands, by reason of its nature, application +and toil, as does every natural life; but that, in consequence of the +sharp practices which take from these people what is indispensable, +and place them in such oppressive conditions, this life becomes more +difficult every year, and more filled with deprivations; but our +life, the life of the non-laboring classes, thanks to the co- +operation of the arts and sciences which are directed to this object, +becomes more filled with superfluities, more attractive and careful, +with every year. I see, that, in our day, the life of the working- +man, and, in particular, the life of old men, of women, and of +children of the working population, is perishing directly from their +food, which is utterly inadequate to their fatiguing labor; and that +this life of theirs is not free from care as to its very first +requirements; and that, alongside of this, the life of the non- +laboring classes, to which I belong, is filled more and more, every +year, with superfluities and luxury, and becomes more and more free +from anxiety, and has finally reached such a point of freedom from +care, in the case of its fortunate members, of whom I am one, as was +only dreamed of in olden times in fairy-tales,--the state of the +owner of the purse with the inexhaustible ruble, that is, a condition +in which a man is not only utterly released from the law of labor, +but in which he possesses the possibility of enjoying, without toil, +all the blessings of life, and of transferring to his children, or to +any one whom he may see fit, this purse with the inexhaustible ruble. + +I see that the products of the people's toil are more and more +transformed from the mass of the working classes to those who do not +work; that the pyramid of the social edifice seems to be +reconstructed in such fashion that the foundation stones are carried +to the apex, and the swiftness of this transfer is increasing in a +sort of geometrical ratio. I see that the result of this is +something like that which would take place in an ant-heap if the +community of ants were to lose their sense of the common law, if some +ants were to begin to draw the products of labor from the bottom to +the top of the heap, and should constantly contract the foundations +and broaden the apex, and should thereby also force the remaining +ants to betake themselves from the bottom to the summit. + +I see that the ideal of the Fortunatus' purse has made its way among +the people, in the place of the ideal of a toilsome life. Rich +people, myself among the number, get possession of the inexhaustible +ruble by various devices, and for the purpose of enjoying it we go to +the city, to the place where nothing is produced and where every +thing is swallowed up. + +The industrious poor man, who is robbed in order that the rich may +possess this inexhaustible ruble, yearns for the city in his train; +and there he also takes to sharp practices, and either acquires for +himself a position in which he can work little and receive much, +thereby rendering still more oppressive the situation of the laboring +classes, or, not having attained to such a position, he goes to ruin, +and falls into the ranks of those cold and hungry inhabitants of the +night-lodging houses, which are being swelled with such remarkable +rapidity. + +I belong to the class of those people, who, by divers tricks, take +from the toiling masses the necessaries of life, and who have +acquired for themselves these inexhaustible rubles, and who lead +these unfortunates astray. I desire to aid people, and therefore it +is clear that, first of all, I must cease to rob them as I am doing. +But I, by the most complicated, and cunning, and evil practices, +which have been heaped up for centuries, have acquired for myself the +position of an owner of the inexhaustible ruble, that is to say, one +in which, never working myself, I can make hundreds and thousands of +people toil for me--which also I do; and I imagine that I pity +people, and I wish to assist them. I sit on a man's neck, I weigh +him down, and I demand that he shall carry me; and without descending +from his shoulders I assure myself and others that I am very sorry +for him, and that I desire to ameliorate his condition by all +possible means, only not by getting off of him. + +Surely this is simple enough. If I want to help the poor, that is, +to make the poor no longer poor, I must not produce poor people. And +I give, at my own selection, to poor men who have gone astray from +the path of life, a ruble, or ten rubles, or a hundred; and I grasp +hundreds from people who have not yet left the path, and thereby I +render them poor also, and demoralize them to boot. + +This is very simple; but it was horribly hard for me to understand +this fully without compromises and reservations, which might serve to +justify my position; but it sufficed for me to confess my guilt, and +every thing which had before seemed to me strange and complicated, +and lacking in cleanness, became perfectly comprehensible and simple. +But the chief point was, that my way of life, arising from this +interpretation, became simple, clear and pleasant, instead of +perplexed, inexplicable and full of torture as before.] {18} + +Who am I, that I should desire to help others? I desire to help +people; and I, rising at twelve o'clock after a game of vint {19} +with four candles, weak, exhausted, demanding the aid of hundreds of +people,--I go to the aid of whom? Of people who rise at five +o'clock, who sleep on planks, who nourish themselves on bread and +cabbage, who know how to plough, to reap, to wield the axe, to chop, +to harness, to sew,--of people who in strength and endurance, and +skill and abstemiousness, are a hundred times superior to me,--and I +go to their succor! What except shame could I feel, when I entered +into communion with these people? The very weakest of them, a +drunkard, an inhabitant of the Rzhanoff house, the one whom they call +"the idler," is a hundred-fold more industrious than I; [his balance, +so to speak, that is to say, the relation of what he takes from +people and that which they give him, stands on a thousand times +better footing than my balance, if I take into consideration what I +take from people and what I give to them.] {18} + +And these are the people to whose assistance I go. I go to help the +poor. But who is the poor man? There is no one poorer than myself. +I am a thoroughly enervated, good-for-nothing parasite, who can only +exist under the most special conditions, who can only exist when +thousands of people toil at the preservation of this life which is +utterly useless to every one. And I, that plant-louse, which devours +the foliage of trees, wish to help the tree in its growth and health, +and I wish to heal it. + +I have passed my whole life in this manner: I eat, I talk and I +listen; I eat, I write or read, that is to say, I talk and listen +again; I eat, I play, I eat, again I talk and listen, I eat, and +again I go to bed; and so each day I can do nothing else, and I +understand how to do nothing else. And in order that I may be able +to do this, it is necessary that the porter, the peasant, the cook, +male or female, the footman, the coachman, and the laundress, should +toil from morning till night; I will not refer to the labors of the +people which are necessary in order that coachman, cooks, male and +female, footman, and the rest should have those implements and +articles with which, and over which, they toil for my sake; axes, +tubs, brushes, household utensils, furniture, wax, blacking, +kerosene, hay, wood, and beef. And all these people work hard all +day long and every day, so that I may be able to talk and eat and +sleep. And I, this cripple of a man, have imagined that I could help +others, and those the very people who support me! + +It is not remarkable that I could not help any one, and that I felt +ashamed; but the remarkable point is that such an absurd idea could +have occurred to me. The woman who served the sick old man, helped +him; the mistress of the house, who cut a slice from the bread which +she had won from the soil, helped the beggar; Semyon, who gave three +kopeks which he had earned, helped the beggar, because those three +kopeks actually represented his labor: but I served no one, I toiled +for no one, and I was well aware that my money did not represent my +labor. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. {20} + + + +Into the delusion that I could help others I was led by the fact that +I fancied that my money was of the same sort as Semyon's. But this +was not the case. + +A general idea prevails, that money represents wealth; but wealth is +the product of labor; and, therefore, money represents labor. But +this idea is as just as that every governmental regulation is the +result of a compact (contrat social). + +Every one likes to think that money is only a medium of exchange for +labor. I have made shoes, you have raised grain, he has reared +sheep: here, in order that we may the more readily effect an +exchange, we will institute money, which represents a corresponding +quantity of labor, and, by means of it, we will barter our shoes for +a breast of lamb and ten pounds of flour. We will exchange our +products through the medium of money, and the money of each one of us +represents our labor. + +This is perfectly true, but true only so long as, in the community +where this exchange is effected, the violence of one man over the +rest has not made its appearance; not only violence over the labors +of others, as happens in wars and slavery, but where he exercises no +violence for the protection of the products of their labor from +others. This will be true only in a community whose members fully +carry out the Christian law, in a community where men give to him who +asks, and where he who takes is not asked to make restitution. But +just so soon as any violence whatever is used in the community, the +significance of money for its possessor loses its significance as a +representative of labor, and acquires the significance of a right +founded, not on labor, but on violence. + +As soon as there is war, and one man has taken any thing from any +other man, money can no longer be always the representative of labor; +money received by a warrior for the spoils of war, which he sells, +even if he is the commander of the warriors, is in no way a product +of labor, and possesses an entirely different meaning from money +received for work on shoes. As soon as there are slave-owners and +slaves, as there always have been throughout the whole world, it is +utterly impossible to say that money represents labor. + +Women have woven linen, sold it, and received money; serfs have woven +for their master, and the master has sold them and received the +money. The money is identical in both cases; but in the one case it +is the product of labor, in the other the product of violence. In +exactly the same way, a stranger or my own father has given me money; +and my father, when he gave me that money, knew, and I know, and +everybody knows, that no one can take this money away from me; but if +it should occur to any one to take it away from me, or even not to +hand it over at the date when it was promised, the law would +intervene on my behalf, and would compel the delivery to me of the +money; and, again, it is evident that this money can in no wise be +called the equivalent of labor, on a level with the money received by +Semyon for chopping wood. So that in any community where there is +any thing that in any manner whatever controls the labor of others, +or where violence hedges in, by means of money, its possessions from +others, there money is no longer invariably the representative of +labor. In such a community, it is sometimes the representative of +labor, and sometimes of violence. + +Thus it would be where only one act of violence from one man against +others, in the midst of perfectly free relations, should have made +its appearance; but now, when centuries of the most varied deeds of +violence have passed for accumulations of money, when these deeds of +violence are incessant, and merely alter their forms; when, as every +one admits, money accumulated itself represents violence; when money, +as a representative of direct labor, forms but a very small portion +of the money which is derived from every sort of violence,--to say +nowadays that money represents the labor of the person who possesses +it, is a self-evident error or a deliberate lie. + +It may be said, that thus it should be; it may be said, that this is +desirable; but by no means can it be said, that thus it is. + +Money represents labor. Yes. Money does represent labor; but whose? +In our society only in the very rarest, rarest of instances, does +money represent the labor of its possessor, but it nearly always +represents the labor of other people, the past or future labor of +men; it is a representative of the obligation of others to labor, +which has been established by force. + +Money, in its most accurate and at the same the simple application, +is the conventional stamp which confers a right, or, more correctly, +a possibility, of taking advantage of the labors of other people. In +its ideal significance, money should confer this right, or this +possibility, only when it serves as the equivalent of labor, and such +money might be in a community in which no violence existed. But just +as soon as violence, that is to say, the possibility of profiting by +the labors of others without toil of one's own, exists in a +community, then that profiting by the labors of other men is also +expressed by money, without any distinction of the persons on whom +that violence is exercised. + +The landed proprietor has imposed upon his serfs natural debts, a +certain quantity of linen, grain, and cattle, or a corresponding +amount of money. One household has procured the cattle, but has paid +money in lieu of linen. The proprietor takes the money to a certain +amount only, because he knows that for that money they will make him +the same quantity of linen, (generally he takes a little more, in +order to be sure that they will make it for the same amount); and +this money, evidently, represents for the proprietor the obligation +of other people to toil. + +The peasant gives the money as an obligation, to he knows not whom, +but to people, and there are many of them, who undertake for this +money to make so much linen. But the people who undertake to make +the linen, do so because they have not succeeded in raising sheep, +and in place of the sheep, they must pay money; but the peasant who +takes money for his sheep takes it because he must pay for grain +which did not bear well this year. The same thing goes on throughout +this realm, and throughout the whole world. + +A man sells the product of his labor, past, present or to come, +sometimes his food, and generally not because money constitutes for +him a convenient means of exchange. He could have effected the +barter without money, but he does so because money is exacted from +him by violence as a lien on his labor. + +When the sovereign of Egypt exacted labor from his slaves, the slaves +gave all their labor, but only their past and present labor, their +future labor they could not give. But with the dissemination of +money tokens, and the credit which had its rise in them, it became +possible to sell one's future toil for money. Money, with co- +existent violence in the community, only represents the possibility +of a new form of impersonal slavery, which has taken the place of +personal slavery. The slave-owner has a right to the labor of Piotr, +Ivan, and Sidor. But the owner of money, in a place where money is +demanded from all, has a right to the toil of all those nameless +people who are in need of money. Money has set aside all the +oppressive features of slavery, under which an owner knows his right +to Ivan, and with them it has set aside all humane relations between +the owner and the slave, which mitigated the burden of personal +thraldom. + +I will not allude to the fact, that such a condition of things is, +possibly, necessary for the development of mankind, for progress, and +so forth,--that I do not contest. I have merely tried to elucidate +to myself the idea of money, and that universal error into which I +fell when I accepted money as the representative of labor. I became +convinced, after experience, that money is not the representative of +labor, but, in the majority of cases, the representative of violence, +or of especially complicated sharp practices founded on violence. + +Money, in our day, has completely lost that significance which it is +very desirable that it should possess, as the representative of one's +own labor; such a significance it has only as an exception, but, as a +general rule, it has been converted into a right or a possibility of +profiting by the toil of others. + +The dissemination of money, of credit, and of all sorts of money +tokens, confirms this significance of money ever more and more. +Money is a new form of slavery, which differs from the old form of +slavery only in its impersonality, its annihilation of all humane +relations with the slave. + +Money--money, is a value which is always equal to itself, and is +always considered legal and righteous, and whose use is regarded as +not immoral, just as the right of slavery was regarded. + +In my young days, the game of loto was introduced into the clubs. +Everybody rushed to play it, and, as it was said, many ruined +themselves, rendered their families miserable, lost other people's +money, and government funds, and committed suicide; and the game was +prohibited, and it remains prohibited to this day. + +I remember to have seen old and unsentimental gamblers, who told me +that this game was particularly pleasing because you did not see from +whom you were winning, as is the case in other games; a lackey +brought, not money, but chips; each man lost a little stake, and his +disappointment was not visible . . . It is the same with roulette, +which is everywhere prohibited, and not without reason. + +It is the same with money. I possess a magic, inexhaustible ruble; I +cut off my coupons, and have retired from all the business of the +world. Whom do I injure,--I, the most inoffensive and kindest of +men? But this is nothing more than playing at loto or roulette, +where I do not see the man who shoots himself, because of his losses, +after procuring for me those coupons which I cut off from the bonds +so accurately with a strictly right-angled corner. + +I have done nothing, I do nothing, and I shall do nothing, except cut +off those coupons; and I firmly believe that money is the +representative of labor! Surely, this is amazing! And people talk +of madmen, after that! Why, what degree of lunacy can be more +frightful than this? A sensible, educated, in all other respects +sane man lives in a senseless manner, and soothes himself for not +uttering the word which it is indispensably necessary that he should +utter, with the idea that there is some sense in his conclusions, and +he considers himself a just man. Coupons--the representatives of +toil! Toil! Yes, but of whose toil? Evidently not of the man who +owns them, but of him who labors. + +Slavery is far from being suppressed. It has been suppressed in Rome +and in America, and among us: but only certain laws have been +abrogated; only the word, not the thing, has been put down. Slavery +is the freeing of ourselves alone from the toil which is necessary +for the satisfaction of our demands, by the transfer of this toil to +others; and wherever there exists a man who does not work, not +because others work lovingly for him, but where he possesses the +power of not working, and forces others to work for him, there +slavery exists. There too, where, as in all European societies, +there are people who make use of the labor of thousands of men, and +regard this as their right,--there slavery exists in its broadest +measure. + +And money is the same thing as slavery. Its object and its +consequences are the same. Its object is--that one may rid one's +self of the first born of all laws, as a profoundly thoughtful writer +from the ranks of the people has expressed it; from the natural law +of life, as we have called it; from the law of personal labor for the +satisfaction of our own wants. And the results of money are the same +as the results of slavery, for the proprietor; the creation, the +invention of new and ever new and never-ending demands, which can +never be satisfied; the enervation of poverty, vice, and for the +slaves, the persecution of man and their degradation to the level of +the beasts. + +Money is a new and terrible form of slavery, and equally demoralizing +with the ancient form of slavery for both slave and slave-owner; only +much worse, because it frees the slave and the slave-owner from their +personal, humane relations.] + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + + +I am always surprised by the oft-repeated words: "Yes, this is so in +theory, but how is it in practice?" Just as though theory were fine +words, requisite for conversation, but not for the purpose of having +all practice, that is, all activity, indispensably founded on them. +There must be a fearful number of stupid theories current in the +world, that such an extraordinary idea should have become prevalent. +Theory is what a man thinks on a subject, but its practice is what he +does. How can a man think it necessary to do so and so, and then do +the contrary? If the theory of baking bread is, that it must first +be mixed, and then set to rise, no one except a lunatic, knowing this +theory, would do the reverse. But it has become the fashion with us +to say, that "this is so in theory, but how about the practice?" + +In the matter which interests me now, that has been confirmed which I +have always thought,--that practice infallibly flows from theory, and +not that it justifies it, but it cannot possibly be otherwise, for if +I have understood the thing of which I have been thinking, then I +cannot carry out this thing otherwise than as I have understood it. + +I wanted to help the unfortunate only because I had money, and I +shared the general belief that money was the representative of labor, +or, on the whole, something legal and good. But, having begun to +give away this money, I saw, when I gave the bills which I had +accumulated from poor people, that I was doing precisely that which +was done by some landed proprietors who made some of their serfs wait +on others. I saw that every use of money, whether for making +purchases, or for giving away without an equivalent to another, is +handing over a note for extortion from the poor, or its transfer to +another man for extortion from the poor. I saw that money in itself +was not only not good, but evidently evil, and that it deprives us of +our highest good,--labor, and thereby of the enjoyment of our labor, +and that that blessing I was not in a position to confer on any one, +because I was myself deprived of it: I do not work, and I take no +pleasure in making use of the labor of others. + +It would appear that there is something peculiar in this abstract +argument as to the nature of money. But this argument which I have +made not for the sake of argument, but for the solution of the +problem of my life, of my sufferings, was for me an answer to my +question: What is to be done? + +As soon as I grasped the meaning of riches, and of money, it not only +became clear and indisputable to me, what I ought to do, but also +clear and indisputable what others ought to do, because they would +infallibly do it. I had only actually come to understand what I had +known for a long time previously, the theory which was given to men +from the very earliest times, both by Buddha, and Isaiah, and Lao- +Tze, and Socrates, and in a peculiarly clear and indisputable manner +by Jesus Christ and his forerunner, John the Baptist. John the +Baptist, in answer to the question of the people,--What were they to +do? replied simply, briefly, and clearly: "He that hath two coats, +let him impart to him that hath none; and he that hath meat, let him +do likewise" (Luke iii. 10, 11). In a similar manner, but with even +greater clearness, and on many occasions, Christ spoke. He said: +"Blessed are the poor, and woe to the rich." He said that it is +impossible to serve God and mammon. He forbade his disciples to take +not only money, but also two garments. He said to the rich young +man, that he could not enter into the kingdom of heaven because he +was rich, and that it was easier for a camel to go through the eye of +a needle, than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. He said +that he who should not leave every thing, houses and children and +lands, and follow him, could not be his disciple. He told the +parable of the rich man who did nothing bad, like our own rich men, +but who only arrayed himself in costly garments, and ate and drank +daintily, and who lost his soul thereby; and of poor Lazarus, who had +done nothing good, but who was saved merely because he was poor. + +This theory was sufficiently familiar to me, but the false teachings +of the world had so obscured it that it had become for me a theory in +the sense which people are fond of attributing to that term, that is +to say, empty words. But as soon as I had succeeded in destroying in +my consciousness the sophisms of worldly teaching, theory conformed +to practice, and the truth with regard to my life and to the life of +the people about me became its conclusion. + +I understood that man, besides life for his own personal good, is +unavoidably bound to serve the good of others also; that, if we take +an illustration from the animal kingdom,--as some people are fond of +doing, defending violence and conflict by the conflict for existence +in the animal kingdom,--the illustration must be taken from +gregarious animals, like bees; that consequently man, not to mention +the love to his neighbor incumbent on him, is called upon, both by +reason and by his nature, to serve other people and the common good +of humanity. I comprehended that the natural law of man is that +according to which only he can fulfil destiny, and therefore be +happy. I understood that this law has been and is broken hereby,-- +that people get rid of labor by force (like the robber bees), make +use of the toil of others, directing this toil, not to the common +weal, but to the private satisfaction of swift-growing desires; and, +precisely as in the case of the robber bees, they perish in +consequence. [I understood that the original form of this +disinclination for the law is the brutal violence against weaker +individuals, against women, wars and imprisonments, whose sequel is +slavery, and also the present reign of money. I understood that +money is the impersonal and concealed enslavement of the poor. And, +once having perceived the significance of money as slavery, I could +not but hate it, nor refrain from doing all in my power to free +myself from it.] {21} + +When I was a slave-owner, and comprehended the immorality of my +position, I tried to escape from it. My escape consisted in this, +that I, regarding it as immoral, tried to exercise my rights as +slave-owner as little as possible, but to live, and to allow other +people to live, as though that right did not exist. And I cannot +refrain from doing the same thing now in reference to the present +form of slavery,--exercising my right to the labor of others as +little as possible, i.e., hiring and purchasing as little as +possible. + +The root of every slavery is the use of the labor of others; and +hence, the compelling others to it is founded indifferently on my +right to the slave, or on my possession of money which is +indispensable to him. If I really do not approve, and if I regard as +an evil, the employment of the labor of others, then I shall use +neither my right nor my money for that purpose; I shall not compel +others to toil for me, but I shall endeavor to free them from the +labor which they have performed for me, as far as possible, either by +doing without this labor or by performing it for myself. + +And this very simple and unavoidable deduction enters into all the +details of my life, effects a total change in it, and at one blow +releases me from those moral sufferings which I have undergone at the +sight of the sufferings and the vice of the people, and instantly +annihilates all three causes of my inability to aid the poor, which I +had encountered while seeking the cause of my lack of success. + +The first cause was the herding of the people in towns, and the +absorption there of the wealth of the country. All that a man needs +is to understand how every hiring or purchase is a handle to +extortion from the poor, and that therefore he must abstain from +them, and must try to fulfil his own requirements; and not a single +man will then quit the country, where all wants can be satisfied +without money, for the city, where it is necessary to buy every +thing: and in the country he will be in a position to help the +needy, as has been my own experience and the experience of every one +else. + +The second cause is the estrangement of the rich from the poor. A +man needs but to refrain from buying, from hiring, and, disdaining no +sort of work, to satisfy his requirements himself, and the former +estrangement will immediately be annihilated, and the man, having +rejected luxury and the services of others, will amalgamate with the +mass of the working people, and, standing shoulder to shoulder with +the working people, he can help them. + +The third cause was shame, founded on a consciousness of immorality +in my owning that money with which I desired to help people. All +that is required is: to understand the significance of money as +impersonal slavery, which it has acquired among us, in order to +escape for the future from falling into the error according to which +money, though evil in itself, can be an instrument of good, and in +order to refrain from acquiring money; and to rid one's self of it in +order to be in a position to do good to people, that is, to bestow on +them one's labor, and not the labor of another. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + + +[I saw that money is the cause of suffering and vice among the +people, and that, if I desired to help people, the first thing that +was required of me was not to create those unfortunates whom I wished +to assist. + +I came to the conclusion that the man who does not love vice and the +suffering of the people should not make use of money, thus presenting +an inducement to extortion from the poor, by forcing them to work for +him; and that, in order not to make use of the toil of others, he +must demand as little from others as possible, and work as much as +possible himself.] {22} + +By dint of a long course of reasoning, I came to this inevitable +conclusion, which was drawn thousands of years ago by the Chinese in +the saying, "If there is one idle man, there is another dying with +hunger to offset him. + +[Then what are we to do? John the Baptist gave the answer to this +very question two thousand years ago. And when the people asked him, +"What are we to do?" he said, "Let him that hath two garments impart +to him that hath none, and let him that hath meat do the same." What +is the meaning of giving away one garment out of two, and half of +one's food? It means giving to others every superfluity, and +thenceforth taking nothing superfluous from people. + +This expedient, which furnishes such perfect satisfaction to the +moral feelings, kept my eyes fast bound, and binds all our eyes; and +we do not see it, but gaze aside. + +This is precisely like a personage on the stage, who had entered a +long time since, and all the spectators see him, and it is obvious +that the actors cannot help seeing him, but the point on the stage +lies in the acting characters pretending not to see him, and in +suffering from his absence.] {23} + +Thus we, in our efforts to recover from our social diseases, search +in all quarters, governmental and anti-governmental, and in +scientific and in philanthropic superstitions; and we do not see what +is perfectly visible to every eye. + +For the man who really suffers from the sufferings of the people who +surround us, there exists the very plainest, simplest, and easiest +means; the only possible one for the cure of the evil about us, and +for the acquisition of a consciousness of the legitimacy of his life; +the one given by John the Baptist, and confirmed by Christ: not to +have more than one garment, and not to have money. And not to have +any money, means, not to employ the labor of others, and hence, first +of all, to do with our own hands every thing that we can possibly do. + +This is so clear and simple! But it is clear and simple when the +requirements are simple. I live in the country. I lie on the oven, +and I order my debtor, my neighbor, to chop wood and light my fire. +It is very clear that I am lazy, and that I tear my neighbor away +from his affairs, and I shall feel mortified, and I shall find it +tiresome to lie still all the time; and I shall go and split my wood +for myself. + +But the delusion of slavery of all descriptions lies so far back, so +much of artificial exaction has sprung up upon it, so many people, +accustomed in different degrees to these habits, are interwoven with +each other, enervated people, spoiled for generations, and such +complicated delusions and justifications for their luxury and +idleness have been devised by people, that it is far from being so +easy for a man who stands at the summit of the ladder of idle people +to understand his sin, as it is for the peasant who has made his +neighbor build his fire. + +It is terribly difficult for people at the top of this ladder to +understand what is required of them. [Their heads are turned by the +height of this ladder of lies, upon which they find themselves when a +place on the ground is offered to them, to which they must descend in +order to begin to live, not yet well, but no longer cruelly, +inhumanly; for this reason, this clear and simple truth appears +strange to these people. For the man with ten servants, liveries, +coachmen, cooks, pictures, pianofortes, that will infallibly appear +strange, and even ridiculous, which is the simplest, the first act +of--I will not say every good man--but of every man who is not +wicked: to cut his own wood with which his food is cooked, and with +which he warms himself; to himself clean those boots with which he +has heedlessly stepped in the mire; to himself fetch that water with +which he preserves his cleanliness, and to carry out that dirty water +in which he has washed himself.] {24} + +But, besides the remoteness of people from the truth, there is +another cause which prevents people from seeing the obligation for +them of the simplest and most natural personal, physical labor for +themselves: this is the complication, the inextricability of the +conditions, the advantage of all the people who are bound together +among themselves by money, in which the rich man lives: My luxurious +life feeds people. What would become of my old valet if I were to +discharge him? What! we must all do every thing necessary,--make our +clothes and hew wood? . . . And how about the division of labor?" + +[This morning I stepped out into the corridor where the fires were +being built. A peasant was making a fire in the stove which warms my +son's room. I went in; the latter was asleep. It was eleven o'clock +in the morning. To-day is a holiday: there is some excuse, there +are no lessons. + +The smooth-skinned, eighteen-year-old youth, with a beard, who had +eaten his fill on the preceding evening, sleeps until eleven o'clock. +But the peasant of his age had been up at dawn, and had got through a +quantity of work, and was attending to his tenth stove, while the +former slept. "The peasant shall not make the fire in his stove to +warm that smooth, lazy body of his!" I thought. But I immediately +recollected that this stove also warmed the room of the housekeeper, +a woman forty years of age, who, on the evening before, had been +making preparations up to three o'clock in the morning for the supper +which my son had eaten, and that she had cleared the table, and risen +at seven, nevertheless. The peasant was building the fire for her +also. And under her name the lazybones was warming himself. + +It is true that the interests of all are interwoven; but, even +without any prolonged reckoning, the conscience of each man will say +on whose side lies labor, and on whose idleness. But although +conscience says this, the account-book, the cash-book, says it still +more clearly. The more money any one spends, the more idle he is, +that is to say, the more he makes others work for him. The less he +spends, the more he works.] {25} But trade, but public undertakings, +and, finally, the most terrible of words, culture, the development of +sciences, and the arts,--what of them? + +[If I live I will make answer to those points, and in detail; and +until such answer I will narrate the following.] {25} + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + + +LIFE IN THE CITY. + +Last year, in March, I was returning home late at night. As I turned +from the Zubova into Khamovnitchesky Lane, I saw some black spots on +the snow of the Dyevitchy Pole (field). Something was moving about +in one place. I should not have paid any attention to this, if the +policeman who was standing at the end of the street had not shouted +in the direction of the black spots, - + +"Vasily! why don't you bring her in?" + +"She won't come!" answered a voice, and then the spot moved towards +the policeman. + +I halted and asked the police-officer, "What is it?" + +He said,--"They are taking a girl from the Rzhanoff house to the +station-house; and she is hanging back, she won't walk." A house- +porter in a sheepskin coat was leading her. She was walking forward, +and he was pushing her from behind. All of us, I and the porter and +the policeman, were dressed in winter clothes, but she had nothing on +over her dress. In the darkness I could make out only her brown +dress, and the kerchiefs on her head and neck. She was short in +stature, as is often the case with the prematurely born, with small +feet, and a comparatively broad and awkward figure. + +"We're waiting for you, you carrion. Get along, what do you mean by +it? I'll give it to you!" shouted the policeman. He was evidently +tired, and he had had too much of her. She advanced a few paces, and +again halted. + +The little old porter, a good-natured fellow (I know him), tugged at +her hand. "Here, I'll teach you to stop! On with you!" he repeated, +as though in anger. She staggered, and began to talk in a discordant +voice. At every sound there was a false note, both hoarse and +whining. + +"Come now, you're shoving again. I'll get there some time!" + +She stopped and then went on. I followed them. + +"You'll freeze," said the porters + +"The likes of us don't freeze: I'm hot." + +She tried to jest, but her words sounded like scolding. She halted +again under the lantern which stands not far from our house, and +leaned against, almost hung over, the fence, and began to fumble for +something among her skirts, with benumbed and awkward hands. Again +they shouted at her, but she muttered something and did something. +In one hand she held a cigarette bent into a bow, in the other a +match. I paused behind her; I was ashamed to pass her, and I was +ashamed to stand and look on. But I made up my mind, and stepped +forward. Her shoulder was lying against the fence, and against the +fence it was that she vainly struck the match and flung it away. I +looked in her face. She was really a person prematurely born; but, +as it seemed to me, already an old woman. I credited her with thirty +years. A dirty hue of face; small, dull, tipsy eyes; a button-like +nose; curved moist lips with drooping corners, and a short wisp of +harsh hair escaping from beneath her kerchief; a long flat figure, +stumpy hands and feet. I paused opposite her. She stared at me, and +burst into a laugh, as though she knew all that was going on in my +mind. + +I felt that it was necessary to say something to her. I wanted to +show her that I pitied her. + +"Are your parents alive?" I inquired. + +She laughed hoarsely, with an expression which said, "he's making up +queer things to ask." + +"My mother is," said she. "But what do you want?" + +"And how old are you?" + +"Sixteen," said she, answering promptly to a question which was +evidently customary. + +"Come, march, you'll freeze, you'll perish entirely," shouted the +policeman; and she swayed away from the fence, and, staggering along, +she went down Khamovnitchesky Lane to the police-station; and I +turned to the wicket, and entered the house, and inquired whether my +daughters had returned. I was told that they had been to an evening +party, had had a very merry time, had come home, and were in bed. + +Next morning I wanted to go to the station-house to learn what had +been done with this unfortunate woman, and I was preparing to go out +very early, when there came to see me one of those unlucky noblemen, +who, through weakness, have dropped from the gentlemanly life to +which they are accustomed, and who alternately rise and fall. I had +been acquainted with this man for three years. In the course of +those three years, this man had several times made way with every +thing that he had, and even with all his clothes; the same thing had +just happened again, and he was passing the nights temporarily in the +Rzhanoff house, in the night-lodging section, and he had come to me +for the day. He met me as I was going out, at the entrance, and +without listening to me he began to tell me what had taken place in +the Rzhanoff house the night before. He began his narrative, and did +not half finish it; all at once (he is an old man who has seen men +under all sorts of aspects) he burst out sobbing, and flooded has +countenance with tears, and when he had become silent, turned has +face to the wall. This is what he told me. Every thing that he +related to me was absolutely true. I authenticated his story on the +spot, and learned fresh particulars which I will relate separately. + +In that night-lodging house, on the lower floor, in No. 32, in which +my friend had spent the night, among the various, ever-changing +lodgers, men and women, who came together there for five kopeks, +there was a laundress, a woman thirty years of age, light-haired, +peaceable and pretty, but sickly. The mistress of the quarters had a +boatman lover. In the summer her lover kept a boat, and in the +winter they lived by letting accommodations to night-lodgers: three +kopeks without a pillow, five kopeks with a pillow. + +The laundress had lived there for several months, and was a quiet +woman; but latterly they had not liked her, because she coughed and +prevented the women from sleeping. An old half-crazy woman eighty +years old, in particular, also a regular lodger in these quarters, +hated the laundress, and imbittered the latter's life because she +prevented her sleeping, and cleared her throat all night like a +sheep. The laundress held her peace; she was in debt for her +lodgings, and was conscious of her guilt, and therefore she was bound +to be quiet. She began to go more and more rarely to her work, as +her strength failed her, and therefore she could not pay her +landlady; and for the last week she had not been out to work at all, +and had only poisoned the existence of every one, especially of the +old woman, who also did not go out, with her cough. Four days before +this, the landlady had given the laundress notice to leave the +quarters: the latter was already sixty kopeks in debt, and she +neither paid them, nor did the landlady foresee any possibility of +getting them; and all the bunks were occupied, and the women all +complained of the laundress's cough. + +When the landlady gave the laundress notice, and told her that she +must leave the lodgings if she did not pay up, the old woman rejoiced +and thrust the laundress out of doors. The laundress departed, but +returned in an hour, and the landlady had not the heart to put her +out again. And the second and the third day, she did not turn her +out. "Where am I to go?" said the laundress. But on the third day, +the landlady's lover, a Moscow man, who knew the regulations and how +to manage, sent for the police. A policeman with sword and pistol on +a red cord came to the lodgings, and with courteous words he led the +laundress into the street. + +It was a clear, sunny, but freezing March day. The gutters were +flowing, the house-porters were picking at the ice. The cabman's +sleigh jolted over the icy snow, and screeched over the stones. The +laundress walked up the street on the sunny side, went to the church, +and seated herself at the entrance, still on the sunny side. But +when the sun began to sink behind the houses, the puddles began to be +skimmed over with a glass of frost, and the laundress grew cold and +wretched. She rose, and dragged herself . . . whither? Home, to the +only home where she had lived so long. While she was on her way, +resting at times, dusk descended. She approached the gates, turned +in, slipped, groaned and fell. + +One man came up, and then another. "She must be drunk." Another man +came up, and stumbled over the laundress, and said to the potter: +"What drunken woman is this wallowing at your gate? I came near +breaking my head over her; take her away, won't you?" + +The porter came. The laundress was dead. This is what my friend +told me. It may be thought that I have wilfully mixed up facts,--I +encounter a prostitute of fifteen, and the story of this laundress. +But let no one imagine this; it is exactly what happened in the +course of one night (only I do not remember which) in March, 1884. +And so, after hearing my friend's tale, I went to the station-house, +with the intention of proceeding thence to the Rzhanoff house to +inquire more minutely into the history of the laundress. The weather +was very beautiful and sunny; and again, through the stars of the +night-frost, water was to be seen trickling in the shade, and in the +glare of the sun on Khamovnitchesky square every thing was melting, +and the water was streaming. The river emitted a humming noise. The +trees of the Neskutchny garden looked blue across the river; the +reddish-brown sparrows, invisible in winter, attracted attention by +their sprightliness; people also seemed desirous of being merry, but +all of them had too many cares. The sound of the bells was audible, +and at the foundation of these mingling sounds, the sounds of shots +could be heard from the barracks, the whistle of rifle-balls and +their crack against the target. + +I entered the station-house. In the station some armed policemen +conducted me to their chief. He was similarly armed with sword and +pistol, and he was engaged in taking some measures with regard to a +tattered, trembling old man, who was standing before him, and who +could not answer the questions put to him, on account of his +feebleness. Having finished his business with the old man, he turned +to me. I inquired about the girl of the night before. At first he +listened to me attentively, but afterwards he began to smile, at my +ignorance of the regulations, in consequence of which she had been +taken to the station-house; and particularly at my surprise at her +youth. + +"Why, there are plenty of them of twelve, thirteen, or fourteen years +of age," he said cheerfully. + +But in answer to my question about the girl whom I had seen on the +preceding evening, he explained to me that she must have been sent to +the committee (so it appeared). To my question where she had passed +the night, he replied in an undecided manner. He did not recall the +one to whom I referred. There were so many of them every day. + +In No. 32 of the Rzhanoff house I found the sacristan already reading +prayers over the dead woman. They had taken her to the bunk which +she had formerly occupied; and the lodgers, all miserable beings, had +collected money for the masses for her soul, a coffin and a shroud, +and the old women had dressed her and laid her out. The sacristan +was reading something in the gloom; a woman in a long wadded cloak +was standing there with a wax candle; and a man (a gentleman, I must +state) in a clean coat with a lamb's-skin collar, polished overshoes, +and a starched shirt, was holding one like it. This was her brother. +They had hunted him up. + +I went past the dead woman to the landlady's nook, and questioned her +about the whole business. + +She was alarmed at my queries; she was evidently afraid that she +would be blamed for something; but afterwards she began to talk +freely, and told me every thing. As I passed back, I glanced at the +dead woman. All dead people are handsome, but this dead woman was +particularly beautiful and touching in her coffin; her pure, pale +face, with closed swollen eyes, sunken cheeks, and soft reddish hair +above the lofty brow,--a weary and kind and not a sad but a surprised +face. And in fact, if the living do not see, the dead are surprised. + +On the same day that I wrote the above, there was a great ball in +Moscow. + +That night I left the house at nine o'clock. I live in a locality +which is surrounded by factories, and I left the house after the +factory-whistles had sounded, releasing the people for a day of +freedom after a week of unremitting toil. + +Factory-hands overtook me, and I overtook others of them, directing +their steps to the drinking-shops and taverns. Many were already +intoxicated, many were women. Every morning at five o'clock we can +hear one whistle, a second, a third, a tenth, and so forth, and so +forth. That means that the toil of women, children, and of old men +has begun. At eight o'clock another whistle, which signifies a +breathing-spell of half an hour. At twelve, a third: this means an +hour for dinner. And a fourth at eight, which denotes the end of the +day. + +By an odd coincidence, all three of the factories which are situated +near me produce only articles which are in demand for balls. + +In one factory, the nearest, only stockings are made; in another +opposite, silken fabrics; in the third, perfumes and pomades. + +It is possible to listen to these whistles, and connect no other idea +with them than as denoting the time: "There's the whistle already, +it is time to go to walk." But one can also connect with those +whistles that which they signify in reality; that first whistle, at +five o'clock, means that people, often all without exception, both +men and women, sleeping in a damp cellar, must rise, and hasten to +that building buzzing with machines, and must take their places at +their work, whose end and use for themselves they do not see, and +thus toil, often in heat and a stifling atmosphere, in the midst of +dirt, and with the very briefest breathing-spells, an hour, two +hours, three hours, twelve, and even more hours in succession. They +fall into a doze, and again they rise. And this, for them, senseless +work, to which they are driven only by necessity, is continued over +and over again. + +And thus one week succeeds another with the breaks of holidays; and I +see these work-people released on one of these holidays. They emerge +into the street. Everywhere there are drinking-shops, taverns, and +loose girls. And they, in their drunken state, drag by the hand each +other, and girls like the one whom I saw taken to the station-house; +they drag with them cabmen, and they ride and they walk from one +tavern to another; and they curse and stagger, and say they +themselves know not what. I had previously seen such unsteady gait +on the part of factory-hands, and had turned aside in disgust, and +had been on the point of rebuking them; but ever since I have been in +the habit of hearing those whistles every day, and understand their +meaning, I am only amazed that they, all the men, do not come to the +condition of the "golden squad," of which Moscow is full, {26} [and +the women to the state of the one whom I had seen near my house]. +{27} + +Thus I walked along, and scrutinized these factory-hands, as long as +they roamed the streets, which was until eleven o'clock. Then their +movements began to calm down. Some drunken men remained here and +there, and here and there I encountered men who were being taken to +the station-house. And then carriages began to make their appearance +on all sides, directing their course toward one point. + +On the box sits a coachman, sometimes in a sheepskin coat; and a +footman, a dandy, with a cockade. Well-fed horses in saddle-cloths +fly through the frost at the rate of twenty versts an hour; in the +carriages sit ladies muffled in round cloaks, and carefully tending +their flowers and head-dresses. Every thing from the horse- +trappings, the carriages, the gutta-percha wheels, the cloth of the +coachman's coat, to the stockings, shoes, flowers, velvet, gloves, +and perfumes,--every thing is made by those people, some of whom +often roll drunk into their dens or sleeping-rooms, and some stay +with disreputable women in the night-lodging houses, while still +others are put in jail. Thus past them in all their work, and over +them all, ride the frequenters of balls; and it never enters their +heads, that there is any connection between these balls to which they +make ready to go, and these drunkards at whom their coachman shouts +so roughly. + +These people enjoy themselves at the ball with the utmost composure +of spirit, and assurance that they are doing nothing wrong, but +something very good. Enjoy themselves! Enjoy themselves from eleven +o'clock until six in the morning, in the very dead of night, at the +very hour when people are tossing and turning with empty stomachs in +the night-lodging houses, and while some are dying, as did the +laundress. + +Their enjoyment consists in this,--that the women and young girls, +having bared their necks and arms, and applied bustles behind, place +themselves in a situation in which no uncorrupted woman or maiden +would care to display herself to a man, on any consideration in the +world; and in this half-naked condition, with their uncovered bosoms +exposed to view, with arms bare to the shoulder, with a bustle behind +and tightly swathed hips, under the most brilliant light, women and +maidens, whose chief virtue has always been modesty, exhibit +themselves in the midst of strange men, who are also clad in +improperly tight-fitting garments; and to the sound of maddening +music, they embrace and whirl. Old women, often as naked as the +young ones, sit and look on, and eat and drink savory things; old men +do the same. It is not to be wondered at that this should take place +at night, when all the common people are asleep, so that no one may +see them. But this is not done with the object of concealment: it +seems to them that there is nothing to conceal; that it is a very +good thing; that by this merry-making, in which the labor of +thousands of toiling people is destroyed, they not only do not injure +any one, but that by this very act they furnish the poor with the +means of subsistence. Possibly it is very merry at balls. But how +does this come about? When we see that there is a man in the +community, in our midst, who has had no food, or who is freezing, we +regret our mirth, and we cannot be cheerful until he is fed and +warmed, not to mention the impossibility of imagining people who can +indulge in such mirth as causes suffering to others. The mirth of +wicked little boys, who pitch a dog's tail in a split stick, and make +merry over it, is repulsive and incomprehensible to us. + +In the same manner here, in these diversions of ours, blindness has +fallen upon us, and we do not see the split stick with which we have +pitched all those people who suffer for our amusement. + +[We live as though there were no connection between the dying +laundress, the prostitute of fourteen, and our own life; and yet the +connection between them strikes us in the face. + +We may say: "But we personally have not pinched any tail in a +stick;" but we have no right, to deny that had the tail not been +pitched, our merry-making would not have taken place. We do not see +what connection exists between the laundress and our luxury; but that +is not because no such connection does exist, but because we have +placed a screen in front of us, so that we may not see. + +If there were no screen, we should see that which it is impossible +not to see.] {28} + +Surely all the women who attended that ball in dresses worth a +hundred and fifty rubles each were born not in a ballroom, or at +Madame Minanguoit's; but they have lived in the country, and have +seen the peasants; they know their own nurse and maid, whose father +and brother are poor, for whom the earning of a hundred and fifty +rubles for a cottage is the object of a long, laborious life. Each +woman knows this. How could she enjoy herself, when she knew that +she wore on her bared body at that ball the cottage which is the +dream of her good maid's father and brother? But let us suppose that +she could not make this reflection; but since velvet and silk and +flowers and lace and dresses do not grow of themselves, but are made +by people, it would seem that she could not help knowing what sort of +people make all these things, and under what conditions, and why they +do it. She cannot fail to know that the seamstress, with whom she +has already quarrelled, did not make her dress in the least out of +love for her; therefore, she cannot help knowing that all these +things were made for her as a matter of necessity, that her laces, +flowers, and velvet have been made in the same way as her dress. + +But possibly they are in such darkness that they do not consider +this. One thing she cannot fail to know,--that five or six elderly +and respectable, often sick, lackeys and maids have had no sleep, and +have been put to trouble on her account. She has seen their weary, +gloomy faces. She could not help knowing this also, that the cold +that night reached twenty-eight degrees below zero, {29} and that the +old coachman sat all night long in that temperature on his box. But +I know that they really do not see this. And if they, these young +women and girls, do not see this, on account of the hypnotic state +superinduced in them by balls, it is impossible to condemn them. +They, poor things, have done what is considered right by their +elders; but how are their elders to explain away this their cruelty +to the people? + +The elders always offer the explanation: "I compel no one. I +purchase my things; I hire my men, my maid-servants, and my coachman. +There is nothing wrong in buying and hiring. I force no one's +inclination: I hire, and what harm is there in that?" + +I recently went to see an acquaintance. As I passed through one of +the rooms, I was surprised to see two women seated at a table, as I +knew that my friend was a bachelor. A thin, yellow, old-fashioned +woman, thirty years of age, in a dress that had been carelessly +thrown on, was doing something with her hands and fingers on the +table, with great speed, trembling nervously the while, as though in +a fit. Opposite her sat a young girl, who was also engaged in +something, and who trembled in the same manner. Both women appeared +to be afflicted with St. Vitus' dance. I stepped nearer to them, and +looked to see what they were doing. They raised their eyes to me, +but went on with their work with the same intentness. In front of +them lay scattered tobacco and paper cases. They were making +cigarettes. The woman rubbed the tobacco between her hands, pushed +it into the machine, slipped on the cover, thrust the tobacco +through, then tossed it to the girl. The girl twisted the paper, +and, making it fast, threw it aside, and took up another. All thus +was done with such swiftness, with such intentness, as it is +impossible to describe to a man who has never seen it done. I +expressed my surprise at their quickness. + +"I have been doing nothing else for fourteen years," said the woman. + +"Is it hard?" + +"Yes: it pains my chest, and makes my breathing hard." + +It was not necessary for her to add this, however. A look at the +girl sufficed. She had worked at this for three years, but any one +who had not seen her at this occupation would have said that here was +a strong organism which was beginning to break down. + +My friend, a kind and liberal man, hires these women to fill his +cigarettes at two rubles fifty kopeks the thousand. He has money, +and he spends it for work. What harm is there in that? My friend +rises at twelve o'clock. He passes the evening, from six until two, +at cards, or at the piano. He eats and drinks savory things; others +do all his work for him. He has devised a new source of pleasure,-- +smoking. He has taken up smoking within my memory. + +Here is a woman, and here is a girl, who can barely support +themselves by turning themselves into machines, and they pass their +whole lives inhaling tobacco, and thereby running their health. He +has money which he never earned, and he prefers to play at whist to +making his own cigarettes. He gives these women money on condition +that they shall continue to live in the same wretched manner in which +they are now living, that is to say, by making his cigarettes. + +I love cleanliness, and I give money only on the condition that the +laundress shall wash the shirt which I change twice a day; and that +shirt has destroyed the laundress's last remaining strength, and she +has died. What is there wrong about that? People who buy and hire +will continue to force other people to make velvet and confections, +and will purchase them, without me; and no matter what I may do, they +will hire cigarettes made and shirts washed. Then why should I +deprive myself of velvet and confections and cigarettes and clean +shirts, if things are definitively settled thus? This is the +argument which I often, almost always, hear. This is the very +argument which makes the mob which is destroying something, lose its +senses. This is the very argument by which dogs are guided when one +of them has flung himself on another dog, and overthrown him, and the +rest of the pack rush up also, and tear their comrade in pieces. +Other people have begun it, and have wrought mischief; then why +should not I take advantage of it? Well, what will happen if I wear +a soiled shirt, and make my own cigarettes? Will that make it easier +for anybody else? ask people who would like to justify their course. +If it were not so far from the truth, it would be a shame to answer +such a question, but we have become so entangled that this question +seems very natural to us; and hence, although it is a shame, it is +necessary to reply to it. + +What difference will it make if I wear one shirt a week, and make may +own cigarettes, or do not smoke at all? This difference, that some +laundress and some cigarette-maker will exert their strength less, +and that what I have spent for washing and for the making of +cigarettes I can give to that very laundress, or even to other +laundresses and toilers who are worn out with their labor, and who, +instead of laboring beyond their strength, will then be able to rest, +and drink tea. But to this I hear an objection. (It is so +mortifying to rich and luxurious people to understand their +position.) To this they say: "If I go about in a dirty shirt, and +give up smoking, and hand over this money to the poor, the poor will +still be deprived of every thing, and that drop in the sea of yours +will help not at all." + +Such an objection it is a shame to answer. It is such a common +retort. {30} + +If I had gone among savages, and they had regaled me with cutlets +which struck me as savory, and if I should learn on the following day +that these savory cutlets had been made from a prisoner whom they had +slain for the sake of the savory cutlets, if I do not admit that it +is a good thing to eat men, then, no matter how dainty the cutlets, +no matter how universal the practice of eating men may be among my +fellows, however insignificant the advantage to prisoners, prepared +for consumption, may be my refusal to eat of the cutlets, I will not +and I can not eat any more of them. I may, possibly, eat human +flesh, when hunger compels me to it; but I will not make a feast, and +I will not take part in feasts, of human flesh, and I will not seek +out such feasts, and pride myself on my share in them. + + +LIFE IN THE COUNTRY. + + +But what is to be done? Surely it is not we who have done this? And +if not we, who then? + +We say: "We have not done this, this has done itself;" as the +children say, when they break any thing, that it broke itself. We +say, that, so long as there is a city already in existence, we, by +living in it, support the people, by purchasing their labor and +services. But this is not so. And this is why. We only need to +look ourselves, at the way we have in the country, and at the manner +in which we support people there. + +The winter passes in town. Easter Week passes. On the boulevards, +in the gardens in the parks, on the river, there is music. There are +theatres, water-trips, walks, all sorts of illuminations and +fireworks. But in the country there is something even better,--there +are better air, trees and meadows, and the flowers are fresher. One +should go thither where all these things have unfolded and blossomed +forth. And the majority of wealthy people do go to the country to +breathe the superior air, to survey these superior forests and +meadows. And there the wealthy settle down in the country, and the +gray peasants, who nourish themselves on bread and onions, who toil +eighteen hours a day, who get no sound sleep by night, and who are +clad in blouses. Here no one has led these people astray. There +have been no factories nor industrial establishments, and there are +none of those idle hands, of which there are so many in the city. +Here the whole population never succeeds, all summer long, in +completing all their tasks in season; and not only are there no idle +hands, but a vast quantity of property is ruined for the lack of +hands, and a throng of people, children, old men, and women, will +perish through overstraining their powers in work which is beyond +their strength. How do the rich order their lives there? In this +fashion:- + +If there is an old-fashioned house, built under the serf regime, that +house is repaired and embellished; if there is none, then a new one +is erected, of two or three stories. The rooms, of which there are +from twelve to twenty, and even more, are all six arshins in height. +{31} Wood floors are laid down. The windows consist of one sheet of +glass. There are rich rugs and costly furniture. The roads around +the house are macadamized, the ground is levelled, flower-beds are +laid out, croquet-grounds are prepared, swinging-rings for gymnastics +are erected, reflecting globes, often orangeries, and hotbeds, and +lofty stables always with complicated scroll-work on the gables and +ridges. + +And here, in the country, an honest educated official, or noble +family dwells. All the members of the family and their guests have +assembled in the middle of June, because up to June, that is to say, +up to the beginning of mowing-time, they have been studying and +undergoing examinations; and they live there until September, that is +to say, until harvest and sowing-time. The members of this family +(as is the case with nearly every one in that circle) have lived in +the country from the beginning of the press of work, the suffering +time, not until the end of the season of toil (for in September +sowing is still in progress, as well as the digging of potatoes), but +until the strain of work has relaxed a little. During the whole of +their residence in the country, all around them and beside them, that +summer toil of the peasantry has been going on, of whose fatigues, no +matter how much we may have heard, no matter how much we may have +heard about it, no matter how much we may have gazed upon it, we can +form no idea, unless we have had personal experience of it. And the +members of this family, about ten in number, live exactly as they do +in the city. + +At St. Peter's Day, {32} a strict fast, when the people's food +consists of kvas, bread, and onions, the mowing begins. + +The business which is effected in mowing is one of the most important +in the commune. Nearly every year, through the lack of hands and +time, the hay crop may be lost by rain; and more or less strain of +toil decides the question, as to whether twenty or more per cent of +hay is to be added to the wealth of the people, or whether it is to +rot or die where it stands. And additional hay means additional meat +for the old, and additional milk for the children. Thus, in general +and in particular, the question of bread for each one of the mowers, +and of milk for himself and his children, in the ensuing winter, is +then decided. Every one of the toilers, both male and female, knows +this; even the children know that this is an important matter, and +that it is necessary to strain every nerve to carry the jug of kvas +to their father in the meadow at his mowing, and, shifting the heavy +pitcher from hand to hand, to run barefooted as rapidly as possible, +two versts from the village, in order to get there in season for +dinner, and so that their fathers may not scold them. + +Every one knows, that, from the mowing season until the hay is got +in, there will be no break in the work, and that there will be no +time to breathe. And there is not the mowing alone. Every one of +them has other affairs to attend to besides the mowing: the ground +must be turned up and harrowed; and the women have linen and bread +and washing to attend to; and the peasants have to go to the mill, +and to town, and there are communal matters to attend to, and legal +matters before the judge and the commissary of police; and the wagons +to see to, and the horses to feed at night: and all, old and young, +and sickly, labor to the last extent of their powers. The peasants +toil so, that on every occasion, the mowers, before the end of the +third stint, whether weak, young, or old, can hardly walk as they +totter past the last rows, and only with difficulty are they able to +rise after the breathing-spell; and the women, often pregnant, or +nursing infants, work in the same way. The toil is intense and +incessant. All work to the extreme bounds of their strength, and +expend in this toil, not only the entire stock of their scanty +nourishment, but all their previous stock. All of them--and they are +not fat to begin with--grow gaunt after the "suffering" season. + +Here a little association is working at the mowing; three peasants,-- +one an old man, the second his nephew, a young married man, and a +shoemaker, a thin, sinewy man. This hay-harvest will decide the fate +of all of them for the winter. They have been laboring incessantly +for two weeks, without rest. The rain has delayed their work. After +the rain, when the hay has dried, they have decided to stack it, and, +in order to accomplish this as speedily as possible, that two women +for each of them shall follow their scythes. On the part of the old +man go his wife, a woman of fifty, who has become unfit for work, +having borne eleven children, who is deaf, but still a tolerably +stout worker; and a thirteen-year-old daughter, who is short of +stature, but a strong and clever girl. On the part of his nephew go +his wife, a woman as strong and well-grown as a sturdy peasant, and +his daughter-in-law, a soldier's wife, who is about to become a +mother. On the part of the shoemaker go his wife, a stout laborer, +and her aged mother, who has reached her eightieth year, and who +generally goes begging. They all stand in line, and labor from +morning till night, in the full fervor of the June sun. It is +steaming hot, and rain threatens. Every hour of work is precious. +It is a pity to tear one's self from work to fetch water or kvas. A +tiny boy, the old woman's grandson, brings them water. The old +woman, evidently only anxious lest she shall be driven away from her +work, will not let the rake out of her hand, though it is evident +that she can barely move, and only with difficulty. The little boy, +all bent over, and stepping gently, with his tiny bare feet, drags +along a jug of water, shifting it from hand to hand, for it is +heavier than he. The young girl flings over her shoulder a load of +hay which is also heavier than herself, advances a few steps, halts, +and drops it, without the strength to carry it. The old woman of +fifty rakes away without stopping, and with her kerchief awry she +drags the hay, breathing heavily and tottering. The old woman of +eighty only rakes the hay, but even this is beyond her strength; she +slowly drags along her feet, shod with bast shoes, and, frowning, she +gazes gloomily before her, like a seriously ill or dying person. The +old man has intentionally sent her farther away than the rest, to +rake near the cocks of hay, so that she may not keep in line with the +others; but she does not fall in with this arrangement, and she toils +on as long as the others do, with the same death-like, gloomy +countenance. The sun is already setting behind the forest; but the +cocks are not yet all heaped together, and much still remains to do. +All feel that it is time to stop, but no one speaks, waiting until +the others shall say it. Finally the shoemaker, conscious that his +strength is exhausted, proposes to the old man, to leave the cocks +until the morrow; and the old man consents, and the women instantly +run for the garments, jugs, pitchforks; and the old woman immediately +sits down just where she has been standings and then lies back with +the same death-like look, staring straight in front of her. But the +women are going; and she rises with a groan, and drags herself after +them. And this will go on in July also, when the peasants, without +obtaining sufficient sleep, reap the oats by night, lest it should +fall, and the women rise gloomily to thresh out the straw for the +bands to tie the sheaves; when this old woman, already utterly +cramped by the labor of mowing, and the woman with child, and the +young children, injure themselves overworking and over-drinking; and +when neither hands, nor horses, nor carts will suffice to bring to +the ricks that grain with which all men are nourished, and millions +of poods {33} of which are daily required in Russia to keep people +from perishing. + +And we live as though there were no connection between the dying +laundress, the prostitute of fourteen years, the toilsome manufacture +of cigarettes by women, the strained, intolerable, insufficiently fed +toil of old women and children around us; we live as though there +were no connection between this and our own lives. + +It seems to us, that suffering stands apart by itself, and our life +apart by itself. We read the description of the life of the Romans, +and we marvel at the inhumanity of those soulless Luculli, who +satiated themselves on viands and wines while the populace were dying +with hunger. We shake our heads, and we marvel at the savagery of +our grandfathers, who were serf-owners, supporters of household +orchestras and theatres, and of whole villages devoted to the care of +their gardens; and we wonder, from the heights of our grandeur, at +their inhumanity. We read the words of Isa. v. 8: "Woe unto them +that join house to house, that lay field to field, till there be no +place, that they may be placed alone in the midst of the earth! +(11.) Woe unto them that rise up early in the morning, that they may +follow strong drink; that continue until night, till wine inflame +them! (12.) And the harp and the viol, and tabret and pipe, and wine +are in their feasts; but they regard not the work of the Lord, +neither consider the operation of his hands. (18.) Woe unto them +that draw iniquity with cords of vanity, and sin as it were with a +cart-rope. (20.) Woe unto then that call evil good, and good evil; +that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter +for sweet, and sweet for bitter! (21.) Woe unto them that are wise in +their own eyes, and prudent in their own sight--(22.) Woe unto them +that are mighty to drink wine, and men of strength to mingle strong +drink." + +We read these words, and it seems to us that this has no reference to +us. We read in the Gospels (Matt. iii. 10): "And now also the axe +is laid unto the root of the trees: therefore every tree which +bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down and cast into the fire." + +And we are fully convinced that the good tree which bringeth forth +good fruit is ourselves; and that these words are not spoken to us, +but to some other and wicked people. + +We read the words of Isa. vi. 10: "Make the heart of this people +fat, and make their ears heavy, and shut their eyes; lest they see +with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their +heart, and convert and be healed. (11.) Then said I: Lord, how +long? And he answered, Until the cities be wasted without +inhabitant, and the houses without man, and the land be utterly +desolate." + +We read, and are fully convinced that this marvellous deed is not +performed on us, but on some other people. And because we see +nothing it is, that this marvellous deed is performed, and has been +performed, on us. We hear not, we see not, and we understand not +with our heart. How has this happened? + +Whether that God, or that natural law by virtue of which men exist in +the world, has acted well or ill, yet the position of men in the +world, ever since we have known it, has been such, that naked people, +without any hair on their bodies, without lairs in which they could +shelter themselves, without food which they could find in the +fields,--like Robinson {34} on his island,--have all been reduced to +the necessity of constantly and unweariedly contending with nature in +order to cover their bodies, to make themselves clothing, to +construct a roof over their heads, and to earn their bread, that two +or three times a day they may satisfy their hunger and the hunger of +their helpless children and of their old people who cannot work. + +Wherever, at whatever time, in whatever numbers we may have observed +people, whether in Europe, in America, in China, or in Russia, +whether we regard all humanity, or any small portion of it, in +ancient times, in a nomad state, or in our own times, with steam- +engines and sewing-machines, perfected agriculture, and electric +lighting, we behold always one and the same thing,--that man, toiling +intensely and incessantly, is not able to earn for himself and his +little ones and his old people clothing, shelter, and food; and that +a considerable portion of mankind, as in former times, so at the +present day, perish through insufficiency of the necessaries of life, +and intolerable toil in the effort to obtain them. + +Wherever we have, if we draw a circle round us of a hundred thousand, +a thousand, or ten versts, or of one verst, and examine into the +lives of the people comprehended within the limits of our circle, we +shall see within that circle prematurely-born children, old men, old +women, women in labor, sick and weak persons, who toil beyond their +strength, and who have not sufficient food and rest for life, and who +therefore die before their time. We shall see people in the flower +of their age actually slain by dangerous and injurious work. + +We see that people have been struggling, ever since the world has +endured, with fearful effort, privation, and suffering, against this +universal want, and that they cannot overcome it . . . {35} + + + +Footnotes: + +{1} The fine, tall members of a regiment, selected and placed +together to form a showy squad. + +{2} [] Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition printed in +Russia, in the set of Count Tolstoi's works. + +{3} Reaumur. + +{4} A drink made of water, honey, and laurel or salvia leaves, which +is drunk as tea, especially by the poorer classes. + +{5} [] Omitted by the censor from the authorized edition published +in Russia in the set of count Tolstoi's works. The omission is +indicated thus . . . + +{6} Kalatch, a kind of roll: baranki, cracknels of fine flour. + +{7} An arshin is twenty-eight inches. + +{8} A myeshchanin, or citizen, who pays only poll-tax and not a +guild tax. + +{9} Omitted in authorized edition. + +{10} Omitted by the censor in the authorized edition. + +{11} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{12} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{13} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{14} Omitted by the Censor from the authorized edition. + +{15} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{16} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition + +{17} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{18} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{19} A very complicated sort of whist. + +{20} The whole of this chapter is omitted by the Censor in the +authorized edition, and is there represented by the following +sentence: "And I felt that in money, in money itself, in the +possession of it, there was something immoral; and I asked myself, +What is money?" + +{21} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{22} Omitted by the Censor in the authorized edition. + +{23} The above passage is omitted in the authorized edition, and the +following is added: "I came to the simple and natural conclusion, +that, if I pity the tortured horse upon which I am riding, the first +thing for me to do is to alight, and to walk on my own feet." + +{24} Omitted in the authorized edition. + +{25} Omitted in the authorized edition. + +{26} "Into a worse state," in the authorized edition. + +{27} Omitted in the authorized edition. + +{28} Omitted in the authorized edition. + +{29} Reaumur. + +{30} In the Moscow edition (authorized by the Censor), the +concluding paragraph is replaced by the following: --"They say: The +action of a single man is but a drop in the sea. A drop in the sea! + +"There is an Indian legend relating how a man dropped a pearl into +the sea, and in order to recover it he took a bucket, and began to +bail out, and to pour the water on the shore. Thus he toiled without +intermission, and on the seventh day the spirit of the sea grew +alarmed lest the man should dip the sea dry, and so he brought him +his pearl. If our social evil of persecuting man were the sea, then +that pearl which we have lost is equivalent to devoting our lives to +bailing out the sea of that evil. The prince of this world will take +fright, he will succumb more promptly than did the spirit of the sea; +but this social evil is not the sea, but a foul cesspool, which we +assiduously fill with our own uncleanness. All that is required is +for us to come to our senses, and to comprehend what we are doing; to +fall out of love with our own uncleanness,--in order that that +imaginary sea should dry away, and that we should come into +possession of that priceless pearl,--fraternal, humane life." + +{31} An arshin is twenty-eight inches. + +{32} The fast extends from the 5th to the 30th of June, O.S. (June +27 to July 12, N.S.) + +{33} A pood is thirty-six pounds. + +{34} Robinson Crusoe. + +{35} Here something has been omitted by the Censor, which I am +unable to supply.--TRANS. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Thoughts Evoked By The Census Of Moscow, by Tolstoi + +--2008-09-02 13:02:03-- http://www.gutenberg.org/files/13437/13437.txt +Resolving www.gutenberg.org... 152.46.7.81 +Connecting to www.gutenberg.org|152.46.7.81|:80... connected. +HTTP request sent, awaiting response... 200 OK +Length: 566307 (553K) [text/plain] +Saving to: `13437.txt' + + 0K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 9% 141K 4s + 50K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 18% 255K 3s + 100K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 27% 95.6M 1s + 150K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 36% 548K 1s + 200K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 45% 811K 1s + 250K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 54% 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Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: What Men Live By and Other Tales + +Author: Leo Tolstoy + Translated by L. and A. Maude + +Release Date: July, 2004 [EBook #6157] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on November 19, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHAT MEN LIVE BY *** + + + + +Produced by Joe Jurca + + + + + +What Men Live By and Other Tales + +by + +Leo Tolstoy + + + + +What Men Live By + + + +"We know that we have passed out of death into life, because we love +the brethren. He that loveth not abideth in death." --1 "Epistle +St. John" iii. 14. + +"Whoso hath the world's goods, and beholdeth his brother in need, +and shutteth up his compassion from him, how doth the love of God +abide in him? My little children, let us not love in word, neither +with the tongue; but in deed and truth." --iii. 17-18. + +"Love is of God; and every one that loveth is begotten of God, and +knoweth God. He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love." +-iv. 7-8. + +"No man hath beheld God at any time; if we love one another, God +abideth in us." --iv. 12. + +"God is love; and he that abideth in love abideth in God, and God +abideth in him." --iv. 16. + +"If a man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar; for +he that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love +God whom he hath not seen?" --iv. 20. + + + +A shoemaker named Simon, who had neither house nor land of his own, +lived with his wife and children in a peasant's hut, and earned his +living by his work. Work was cheap, but bread was dear, and what he +earned he spent for food. The man and his wife had but one +sheepskin coat between them for winter wear, and even that was torn +to tatters, and this was the second year he had been wanting to buy +sheep-skins for a new coat. Before winter Simon saved up a little +money: a three-rouble note lay hidden in his wife's box, and five +roubles and twenty kopeks were owed him by customers in the village. + +So one morning he prepared to go to the village to buy the sheep- +skins. He put on over his shirt his wife's wadded nankeen jacket, +and over that he put his own cloth coat. He took the three-rouble +note in his pocket, cut himself a stick to serve as a staff, and +started off after breakfast. "I'll collect the five roubles that +are due to me," thought he, "add the three I have got, and that will +be enough to buy sheep-skins for the winter coat." + +He came to the village and called at a peasant's hut, but the man +was not at home. The peasant's wife promised that the money should +be paid next week, but she would not pay it herself. Then Simon +called on another peasant, but this one swore he had no money, and +would only pay twenty kopeks which he owed for a pair of boots Simon +had mended. Simon then tried to buy the sheep-skins on credit, but +the dealer would not trust him. + +"Bring your money," said he, "then you may have your pick of the +skins. We know what debt-collecting is like." So all the business +the shoemaker did was to get the twenty kopeks for boots he had +mended, and to take a pair of felt boots a peasant gave him to sole +with leather. + +Simon felt downhearted. He spent the twenty kopeks on vodka, and +started homewards without having bought any skins. In the morning +he had felt the frost; but now, after drinking the vodka, he felt +warm, even without a sheep-skin coat. He trudged along, striking +his stick on the frozen earth with one hand, swinging the felt boots +with the other, and talking to himself. + + +I + +"I'm quite warm," said he, "though I have no sheep-skin coat. I've +had a drop, and it runs through all my veins. I need no sheep- +skins. I go along and don't worry about anything. That's the sort +of man I am! What do I care? I can live without sheep-skins. I +don't need them. My wife will fret, to be sure. And, true enough, +it is a shame; one works all day long, and then does not get paid. +Stop a bit! If you don't bring that money along, sure enough I'll +skin you, blessed if I don't. How's that? He pays twenty kopeks at +a time! What can I do with twenty kopeks? Drink it-that's all one +can do! Hard up, he says he is! So he may be--but what about me? +You have a house, and cattle, and everything; I've only what I stand +up in! You have corn of your own growing; I have to buy every grain. +Do what I will, I must spend three roubles every week for bread +alone. I come home and find the bread all used up, and I have to +fork out another rouble and a half. So just pay up what you owe, +and no nonsense about it!" + +By this time he had nearly reached the shrine at the bend of the +road. Looking up, he saw something whitish behind the shrine. The +daylight was fading, and the shoemaker peered at the thing without +being able to make out what it was. "There was no white stone here +before. Can it be an ox? It's not like an ox. It has a head like a +man, but it's too white; and what could a man be doing there?" + +He came closer, so that it was clearly visible. To his surprise it +really was a man, alive or dead, sitting naked, leaning motionless +against the shrine. Terror seized the shoemaker, and he thought, +"Some one has killed him, stripped him, and left him there. If I +meddle I shall surely get into trouble." + +So the shoemaker went on. He passed in front of the shrine so that +he could not see the man. When he had gone some way, he looked +back, and saw that the man was no longer leaning against the shrine, +but was moving as if looking towards him. The shoemaker felt more +frightened than before, and thought, "Shall I go back to him, or +shall I go on? If I go near him something dreadful may happen. Who +knows who the fellow is? He has not come here for any good. If I go +near him he may jump up and throttle me, and there will be no +getting away. Or if not, he'd still be a burden on one's hands. +What could I do with a naked man? I couldn't give him my last +clothes. Heaven only help me to get away!" + +So the shoemaker hurried on, leaving the shrine behind him-when +suddenly his conscience smote him, and he stopped in the road. + +"What are you doing, Simon?" said he to himself. "The man may be +dying of want, and you slip past afraid. Have you grown so rich as +to be afraid of robbers? Ah, Simon, shame on you!" + +So he turned back and went up to the man. + + +II + +Simon approached the stranger, looked at him, and saw that he was a +young man, fit, with no bruises on his body, only evidently freezing +and frightened, and he sat there leaning back without looking up at +Simon, as if too faint to lift his eyes. Simon went close to him, +and then the man seemed to wake up. Turning his head, he opened his +eyes and looked into Simon's face. That one look was enough to make +Simon fond of the man. He threw the felt boots on the ground, undid +his sash, laid it on the boots, and took off his cloth coat. + +"It's not a time for talking," said he. "Come, put this coat on at +once!" And Simon took the man by the elbows and helped him to rise. +As he stood there, Simon saw that his body was clean and in good +condition, his hands and feet shapely, and his face good and kind. +He threw his coat over the man's shoulders, but the latter could not +find the sleeves. Simon guided his arms into them, and drawing the +coat well on, wrapped it closely about him, tying the sash round the +man's waist. + +Simon even took off his torn cap to put it on the man's head, but +then his own head felt cold, and he thought: "I'm quite bald, while +he has long curly hair." So he put his cap on his own head again. +"It will be better to give him something for his feet," thought he; +and he made the man sit down, and helped him to put on the felt +boots, saying, "There, friend, now move about and warm yourself. +Other matters can be settled later on. Can you walk?" + +The man stood up and looked kindly at Simon, but could not say a +word. + +"Why don't you speak?" said Simon. "It's too cold to stay here, we +must be getting home. There now, take my stick, and if you're +feeling weak, lean on that. Now step out!" + +The man started walking, and moved easily, not lagging behind. + +As they went along, Simon asked him, "And where do you belong to?" +"I'm not from these parts." + +"I thought as much. I know the folks hereabouts. But, how did you +come to be there by the shrine ?" + +"I cannot tell." + +"Has some one been ill-treating you?" + +"No one has ill-treated me. God has punished me." + +"Of course God rules all. Still, you'll have to find food and +shelter somewhere. Where do you want to go to?" + +"It is all the same to me." + +Simon was amazed. The man did not look like a rogue, and he spoke +gently, but yet he gave no account of himself. Still Simon thought, +"Who knows what may have happened?" And he said to the stranger: +"Well then, come home with me, and at least warm yourself awhile." + +So Simon walked towards his home, and the stranger kept up with him, +walking at his side. The wind had risen and Simon felt it cold +under his shirt. He was getting over his tipsiness by now, and +began to feel the frost. He went along sniffling and wrapping his +wife's coat round him, and he thought to himself: "There now--talk +about sheep-skins! I went out for sheep-skins and come home without +even a coat to my back, and what is more, I'm bringing a naked man +along with me. Matryona won't be pleased!" And when he thought of +his wife he felt sad; but when he looked at the stranger and +remembered how he had looked up at him at the shrine, his heart was +glad. + + +III + +Simon's wife had everything ready early that day. She had cut wood, +brought water, fed the children, eaten her own meal, and now she sat +thinking. She wondered when she ought to make bread: now or +tomorrow? There was still a large piece left. + +"If Simon has had some dinner in town," thought she, "and does not +eat much for supper, the bread will last out another day." + +She weighed the piece of bread in her hand again and again, and +thought: "I won't make any more today. We have only enough flour +left to bake one batch; We can manage to make this last out till +Friday." + +So Matryona put away the bread, and sat down at the table to patch +her husband's shirt. While she worked she thought how her husband +was buying skins for a winter coat. + +"If only the dealer does not cheat him. My good man is much too +simple; he cheats nobody, but any child can take him in. Eight +roubles is a lot of money--he should get a good coat at that price. +Not tanned skins, but still a proper winter coat. How difficult it +was last winter to get on without a warm coat. I could neither get +down to the river, nor go out anywhere. When he went out he put on +all we had, and there was nothing left for me. He did not start +very early today, but still it's time he was back. I only hope he +has not gone on the spree!" + +Hardly had Matryona thought this, when steps were heard on the +threshold, and some one entered. Matryona stuck her needle into her +work and went out into the passage. There she saw two men: Simon, +and with him a man without a hat, and wearing felt boots. + +Matryona noticed at once that her husband smelt of spirits. "There +now, he has been drinking," thought she. And when she saw that he +was coatless, had only her jacket on, brought no parcel, stood there +silent, and seemed ashamed, her heart was ready to break with +disappointment. "He has drunk the money," thought she, "and has +been on the spree with some good-for-nothing fellow whom he has +brought home with him." + +Matryona let them pass into the hut, followed them in, and saw that +the stranger was a young, slight man, wearing her husband's coat. +There was no shirt to be seen under it, and he had no hat. Having +entered, he stood, neither moving, nor raising his eyes, and +Matryona thought: "He must be a bad man--he's afraid." + +Matryona frowned, and stood beside the oven looking to see what they +would do. + +Simon took off his cap and sat down on the bench as if things were +all right. + +"Come, Matryona; if supper is ready, let us have some." + +Matryona muttered something to herself and did not move, but stayed +where she was, by the oven. She looked first at the one and then at +the other of them, and only shook her head. Simon saw that his wife +was annoyed, but tried to pass it off. Pretending not to notice +anything, he took the stranger by the arm. + +"Sit down, friend," said he, "and let us have some supper." + +The stranger sat down on the bench. + +"Haven't you cooked anything for us?" said Simon. + +Matryona's anger boiled over. "I've cooked, but not for you. It +seems to me you have drunk your wits away. You went to buy a sheep- +skin coat, but come home without so much as the coat you had on, and +bring a naked vagabond home with you. I have no supper for +drunkards like you." + +"That's enough, Matryona. Don't wag your tongue without reason. +You had better ask what sort of man--" + +"And you tell me what you've done with the money?" + +Simon found the pocket of the jacket, drew out the three-rouble +note, and unfolded it. + +"Here is the money. Trifonof did not pay, but promises to pay soon." + +Matryona got still more angry; he had bought no sheep-skins, but had +put his only coat on some naked fellow and had even brought him to +their house. + +She snatched up the note from the table, took it to put away in +safety, and said: "I have no supper for you. We can't feed all the +naked drunkards in the world." + +"There now, Matryona, hold your tongue a bit. First hear what a man +has to say-" + +"Much wisdom I shall hear from a drunken fool. I was right in not +wanting to marry you-a drunkard. The linen my mother gave me you +drank; and now you've been to buy a coat-and have drunk it, too!" + +Simon tried to explain to his wife that he had only spent twenty +kopeks; tried to tell how he had found the man--but Matryona would +not let him get a word in. She talked nineteen to the dozen, and +dragged in things that had happened ten years before. + +Matryona talked and talked, and at last she flew at Simon and seized +him by the sleeve. + +"Give me my jacket. It is the only one I have, and you must needs +take it from me and wear it yourself. Give it here, you mangy dog, +and may the devil take you." + +Simon began to pull off the jacket, and turned a sleeve of it inside +out; Matryona seized the jacket and it burst its seams, She snatched +it up, threw it over her head and went to the door. She meant to go +out, but stopped undecided--she wanted to work off her anger, but +she also wanted to learn what sort of a man the stranger was. + + +IV + +Matryona stopped and said: "If he were a good man he would not be +naked. Why, he hasn't even a shirt on him. If he were all right, +you would say where you came across the fellow." + +"That's just what I am trying to tell you," said Simon. "As I came +to the shrine I saw him sitting all naked and frozen. It isn't +quite the weather to sit about naked! God sent me to him, or he +would have perished. What was I to do? How do we know what may have +happened to him? So I took him, clothed him, and brought him along. +Don't be so angry, Matryona. It is a sin. Remember, we all must +die one day." + +Angry words rose to Matryona's lips, but she looked at the stranger +and was silent. He sat on the edge of the bench, motionless, his +hands folded on his knees, his head drooping on his breast, his eyes +closed, and his brows knit as if in pain. Matryona was silent: and +Simon said: "Matryona, have you no love of God?" + +Matryona heard these words, and as she looked at the stranger, +suddenly her heart softened towards him. She came back from the +door, and going to the oven she got out the supper. Setting a cup +on the table, she poured out some kvas. Then she brought out the +last piece of bread, and set out a knife and spoons. + +"Eat, if you want to," said she. + +Simon drew the stranger to the table. + +"Take your place, young man," said he. + +Simon cut the bread, crumbled it into the broth, and they began to +eat. Matryona sat at the corner of the table resting her head on +her hand and looking at the stranger. + +And Matryona was touched with pity for the stranger, and began to +feel fond of him. And at once the stranger's face lit up; his brows +were no longer bent, he raised his eyes and smiled at Matryona. + +When they had finished supper, the woman cleared away the things and +began questioning the stranger. "Where are you from?" said she. + +"I am not from these parts." + +"But how did you come to be on the road?" + +"I may not tell." + +"Did some one rob you?" + +"God punished me." + +"And you were lying there naked?" + +"Yes, naked and freezing. Simon saw me and had pity on me. He took +off his coat, put it on me and brought me here. And you have fed +me, given me drink, and shown pity on me. God will reward you!" + +Matryona rose, took from the window Simon's old shirt she had been +patching, and gave it to the stranger. She also brought out a pair +of trousers for him. + +"There," said she, "I see you have no shirt. Put this on, and lie +down where you please, in the loft or on the oven ." + +The stranger took off the coat, put on the shirt, and lay down in +the loft. Matryona put out the candle, took the coat, and climbed +to where her husband lay. + +Matryona drew the skirts of the coat over her and lay down, but +could not sleep; she could not get the stranger out of her mind. + +When she remembered that he had eaten their last piece of bread and +that there was none for tomorrow, and thought of the shirt and +trousers she had given away, she felt grieved; but when she +remembered how he had smiled, her heart was glad. + +Long did Matryona lie awake, and she noticed that Simon also was +awake--he drew the coat towards him. + +"Simon!" + +"Well?" + +"You have had the last of the bread, and I have not put any to rise. +I don't know what we shall do tomorrow. Perhaps I can borrow some +of neighbor Martha." + +"If we're alive we shall find something to eat." + +The woman lay still awhile, and then said, "He seems a good man, but +why does he not tell us who he is?" + +"I suppose he has his reasons." + +"Simon!" + +"Well?" + +"We give; but why does nobody give us anything?" + +Simon did not know what to say; so he only said, "Let us stop +talking," and turned over and went to sleep. + + +V + +In the morning Simon awoke. The children were still asleep; his +wife had gone to the neighbor's to borrow some bread. The stranger +alone was sitting on the bench, dressed in the old shirt and +trousers, and looking upwards. His face was brighter than it had +been the day before. + +Simon said to him, "Well, friend; the belly wants bread, and the naked +body clothes. One has to work for a living What work do you know?" + +"I do not know any." + +This surprised Simon, but he said, "Men who want to learn can +learn anything." + +"Men work, and I will work also." + +"What is your name?" + +"Michael." + +"Well, Michael, if you don't wish to talk about yourself, that is +your own affair; but you'll have to earn a living for yourself. If +you will work as I tell you, I will give you food and shelter." + +"May God reward you! I will learn. Show me what to do." + +Simon took yarn, put it round his thumb and began to twist it. + +"It is easy enough--see!" + +Michael watched him, put some yarn round his own thumb in the same +way, caught the knack, and twisted the yarn also. + +Then Simon showed him how to wax the thread. This also Michael +mastered. Next Simon showed him how to twist the bristle in, and +how to sew, and this, too, Michael learned at once. + +Whatever Simon showed him he understood at once, and after three +days he worked as if he had sewn boots all his life. He worked +without stopping, and ate little. When work was over he sat +silently, looking upwards. He hardly went into the street, spoke +only when necessary, and neither joked nor laughed. They never saw +him smile, except that first evening when Matryona gave them supper. + + +VI + +Day by day and week by week the year went round. Michael lived and +worked with Simon. His fame spread till people said that no one +sewed boots so neatly and strongly as Simon's workman, Michael; and +from all the district round people came to Simon for their boots, +and he began to be well off. + +One winter day, as Simon and Michael sat working, a carriage on +sledge-runners, with three horses and with bells, drove up to the +hut. They looked out of the window; the carriage stopped at their +door, a fine servant jumped down from the box and opened the door. +A gentleman in a fur coat got out and walked up to Simon's hut. Up +jumped Matryona and opened the door wide. The gentleman stooped to +enter the hut, and when he drew himself up again his head nearly +reached the ceiling, and he seemed quite to fill his end of the room. + +Simon rose, bowed, and looked at the gentleman with astonishment. +He had never seen any one like him. Simon himself was lean, Michael +was thin, and Matryona was dry as a bone, but this man was like some +one from another world: red-faced, burly, with a neck like a bull's, +and looking altogether as if he were cast in iron. + +The gentleman puffed, threw off his fur coat, sat down on the bench, +and said, "Which of you is the master bootmaker?" + +"I am, your Excellency," said Simon, coming forward. + +Then the gentleman shouted to his lad, "Hey, Fedka, bring the leather!" + +The servant ran in, bringing a parcel. The gentleman took the +parcel and put it on the table. + +"Untie it," said he. The lad untied it. + +The gentleman pointed to the leather. + +"Look here, shoemaker," said he, "do you see this leather?" + +"Yes, your honor." + +"But do you know what sort of leather it is?" + +Simon felt the leather and said, "It is good leather." + +"Good, indeed! Why, you fool, you never saw such leather before in +your life. It's German, and cost twenty roubles." + +Simon was frightened, and said, "Where should I ever see leather +like that?" + +"Just so! Now, can you make it into boots for me?" + +"Yes, your Excellency, I can." + +Then the gentleman shouted at him: "You can, can you? Well, remember +whom you are to make them for, and what the leather is. You must +make me boots that will wear for a year, neither losing shape nor +coming unsown. If you can do it, take the leather and cut it up; +but if you can't, say so. I warn you now if your boots become +unsewn or lose shape within a year, I will have you put in prison. +If they don't burst or lose shape for a year I will pay you ten +roubles for your work." + +Simon was frightened, and did not know what to say. He glanced at +Michael and nudging him with his elbow, whispered: "Shall I take +the work?" + +Michael nodded his head as if to say, "Yes, take it." + +Simon did as Michael advised, and undertook to make boots that would +not lose shape or split for a whole year. + +Calling his servant, the gentleman told him to pull the boot off his +left leg, which he stretched out. + +"Take my measure!" said he. + +Simon stitched a paper measure seventeen inches long, smoothed it +out, knelt down, wiped his hand well on his apron so as not to soil +the gentleman's sock, and began to measure. He measured the sole, +and round the instep, and began to measure the calf of the leg, but +the paper was too short. The calf of the leg was as thick as a beam. + +"Mind you don't make it too tight in the leg." + +Simon stitched on another strip of paper. The gentleman twitched +his toes about in his sock, looking round at those in the hut, and +as he did so he noticed Michael. + +"Whom have you there?" asked he. + +"That is my workman. He will sew the boots." + +"Mind," said the gentleman to Michael, "remember to make them so +that they will last me a year." + +Simon also looked at Michael, and saw that Michael was not looking +at the gentleman, but was gazing into the corner behind the +gentleman, as if he saw some one there. Michael looked and looked, +and suddenly he smiled, and his face became brighter. + +"What are you grinning at, you fool?" thundered the gentleman. +"You had better look to it that the boots are ready in time." + +"They shall be ready in good time," said Michael. + +"Mind it is so," said the gentleman, and he put on his boots and his +fur coat, wrapped the latter round him, and went to the door. But +he forgot to stoop, and struck his head against the lintel. + +He swore and rubbed his head. Then he took his seat in the carriage +and drove away. + +When he had gone, Simon said: "There's a figure of a man for you! +You could not kill him with a mallet. He almost knocked out the +lintel, but little harm it did him." + +And Matryona said: "Living as he does, how should he not grow +strong? Death itself can't touch such a rock as that." + + +VII + +Then Simon said to Michael: "Well, we have taken the work, but we +must see we don't get into trouble over it. The leather is dear, +and the gentleman hot-tempered. We must make no mistakes. Come, +your eye is truer and your hands have become nimbler than mine, so +you take this measure and cut out the boots. I will finish off the +sewing of the vamps." + +Michael did as he was told. He took the leather, spread it out on +the table, folded it in two, took a knife and began to cut out. + +Matryona came and watched him cutting, and was surprised to see how +he was doing it. Matryona was accustomed to seeing boots made, and +she looked and saw that Michael was not cutting the leather for +boots, but was cutting it round. + +She wished to say something, but she thought to herself: "Perhaps I +do not understand how gentleman's boots should be made. I suppose +Michael knows more about it--and I won't interfere." + +When Michael had cut up the leather, he took a thread and began to +sew not with two ends, as boots are sewn, but with a single end, as +for soft slippers. + +Again Matryona wondered, but again she did not interfere. Michael +sewed on steadily till noon. Then Simon rose for dinner, looked +around, and saw that Michael had made slippers out of the +gentleman's leather. + +"Ah," groaned Simon, and he thought, "How is it that Michael, who +has been with me a whole year and never made a mistake before, +should do such a dreadful thing? The gentleman ordered high boots, +welted, with whole fronts, and Michael has made soft slippers with +single soles, and has wasted the leather. What am I to say to the +gentleman? I can never replace leather such as this." + +And he said to Michael, "What are you doing, friend? You have ruined me! +You know the gentleman ordered high boots, but see what you have made!" + +Hardly had he begun to rebuke Michael, when "rat-tat" went the iron +ring that hung at the door. Some one was knocking. They looked out +of the window; a man had come on horseback, and was fastening his +horse. They opened the door, and the servant who had been with the +gentleman came in. + +"Good day," said he. + +Good day," replied Simon. "What can we do for you?" + +"My mistress has sent me about the boots." + +"What about the boots?" + +"Why, my master no longer needs them. He is dead." + +"Is it possible?" + +"He did not live to get home after leaving you, but died in the +carriage. When we reached home and the servants came to help him +alight, he rolled over like a sack. He was dead already, and so +stiff that he could hardly be got out of the carriage. My mistress +sent me here, saying: 'Tell the bootmaker that the gentleman who +ordered boots of him and left the leather for them no longer needs +the boots, but that he must quickly make soft slippers for the +corpse. Wait till they are ready, and bring them back with you.' +That is why I have come." + +Michael gathered up the remnants of the leather; rolled them up, +took the soft slippers he had made, slapped them together, wiped +them down with his apron, and handed them and the roll of leather to +the servant, who took them and said: "Good-bye, masters, and good +day to you!" + + +VIII + +Another year passed, and another, and Michael was now living his +sixth year with Simon. He lived as before. He went nowhere, only +spoke when necessary, and had only smiled twice in all those years-- +once when Matryona gave him food, and a second time when the +gentleman was in their hut. Simon was more than pleased with his +workman. He never now asked him where he came from, and only feared +lest Michael should go away. + +They were all at home one day. Matryona was putting iron pots in +the oven; the children were running along the benches and looking +out of the window; Simon was sewing at one window, and Michael was +fastening on a heel at the other. + +One of the boys ran along the bench to Michael, leant on his +shoulder, and looked out of the window. + +"Look, Uncle Michael! There is a lady with little girls! She seems +to be coming here. And one of the girls is lame." + +When the boy said that, Michael dropped his work, turned to the +window, and looked out into the street. + +Simon was surprised. Michael never used to look out into the +street, but now he pressed against the window, staring at something. +Simon also looked out, and saw that a well-dressed woman was really +coming to his hut, leading by the hand two little girls in fur coats +and woolen shawls. The girls could hardly be told one from the +other, except that one of them was crippled in her left leg and +walked with a limp. + +The woman stepped into the porch and entered the passage. Feeling +about for the entrance she found the latch, which she lifted, and +opened the door. She let the two girls go in first, and followed +them into the hut. + +"Good day, good folk!" + +"Pray come in," said Simon. "What can we do for you?" + +The woman sat down by the table. The two little girls pressed close +to her knees, afraid of the people in the hut. + +"I want leather shoes made for these two little girls for spring." + +"We can do that. We never have made such small shoes, but we can +make them; either welted or turnover shoes, linen lined. My man, +Michael, is a master at the work." + +Simon glanced at Michael and saw that he had left his work and was +sitting with his eyes fixed on the little girls. Simon was +surprised. It was true the girls were pretty, with black eyes, +plump, and rosy-cheeked, and they wore nice kerchiefs and fur coats, +but still Simon could not understand why Michael should look at them +like that--just as if he had known them before. He was puzzled, +but went on talking with the woman, and arranging the price. Having +fixed it, he prepared the measure. The woman lifted the lame girl +on to her lap and said: "Take two measures from this little girl. +Make one shoe for the lame foot and three for the sound one. They +both have the same size feet. They are twins." + +Simon took the measure and, speaking of the lame girl, said: "How +did it happen to her? She is such a pretty girl. Was she born so?" + +"No, her mother crushed her leg." + +Then Matryona joined in. She wondered who this woman was, and whose +the children were, so she said: "Are not you their mother then?" + +"No, my good woman; I am neither their mother nor any relation to +them. They were quite strangers to me, but I adopted them." + +"They are not your children and yet you are so fond of them?" + +"How can I help being fond of them? I fed them both at my own +breasts. I had a child of my own, but God took him. I was not so +fond of him as I now am of them." + +"Then whose children are they?" + + +IX + +The woman, having begun talking, told them the whole story. + +"It is about six years since their parents died, both in one week: +their father was buried on the Tuesday, and their mother died on the +Friday. These orphans were born three days after their father's +death, and their mother did not live another day. My husband and I +were then living as peasants in the village. We were neighbors of +theirs, our yard being next to theirs. Their father was a lonely +man; a wood-cutter in the forest. When felling trees one day, they +let one fall on him. It fell across his body and crushed his bowels +out. They hardly got him home before his soul went to God; and that +same week his wife gave birth to twins--these little girls. She +was poor and alone; she had no one, young or old, with her. Alone +she gave them birth, and alone she met her death." + +"The next morning I went to see her, but when I entered the hut, +she, poor thing, was already stark and cold. In dying she had +rolled on to this child and crushed her leg. The village folk came +to the hut, washed the body, laid her out, made a coffin, and buried +her. They were good folk. The babies were left alone. What was to +be done with them? I was the only woman there who had a baby at the +time. I was nursing my first-born--eight weeks old. So I took +them for a time. The peasants came together, and thought and +thought what to do with them; and at last they said to me: "For the +present, Mary, you had better keep the girls, and later on we will +arrange what to do for them." So I nursed the sound one at my +breast, but at first I did not feed this crippled one. I did not +suppose she would live. But then I thought to myself, why should +the poor innocent suffer? I pitied her, and began to feed her. And +so I fed my own boy and these two--the three of them--at my own +breast. I was young and strong, and had good food, and God gave me +so much milk that at times it even overflowed. I used sometimes to +feed two at a time, while the third was waiting. When one had +enough I nursed the third. And God so ordered it that these grew +up, while my own was buried before he was two years old. And I had +no more children, though we prospered. Now my husband is working +for the corn merchant at the mill. The pay is good, and we are well +off. But I have no children of my own, and how lonely I should be +without these little girls! How can I help loving them! They are the +joy of my life!" + +She pressed the lame little girl to her with one hand, while with +the other she wiped the tears from her cheeks. + +And Matryona sighed, and said: "The proverb is true that says, 'One +may live without father or mother, but one cannot live without God.'" + +So they talked together, when suddenly the whole hut was lighted up +as though by summer lightning from the corner where Michael sat. +They all looked towards him and saw him sitting, his hands folded on +his knees, gazing upwards and smiling. + + +X + +The woman went away with the girls. Michael rose from the bench, +put down his work, and took off his apron. Then, bowing low to +Simon and his wife, he said: "Farewell, masters. God has forgiven +me. I ask your forgiveness, too, for anything done amiss." + +And they saw that a light shone from Michael. And Simon rose, bowed +down to Michael, and said: "I see, Michael, that you are no common +man, and I can neither keep you nor question you. Only tell me +this: how is it that when I found you and brought you home, you were +gloomy, and when my wife gave you food you smiled at her and became +brighter? Then when the gentleman came to order the boots, you +smiled again and became brighter still? And now, when this woman +brought the little girls, you smiled a third time, and have become +as bright as day? Tell me, Michael, why does your face shine so, and +why did you smile those three times?" + +And Michael answered: "Light shines from me because I have been +punished, but now God has pardoned me. And I smiled three times, +because God sent me to learn three truths, and I have learnt them. +One I learnt when your wife pitied me, and that is why I smiled the +first time. The second I learnt when the rich man ordered the boots, +and then I smiled again. And now, when I saw those little girls, +I learn the third and last truth, and I smiled the third time." + +And Simon said, "Tell me, Michael, what did God punish you for? and +what were the three truths? that I, too, may know them." + +And Michael answered: "God punished me for disobeying Him. I was an +angel in heaven and disobeyed God. God sent me to fetch a woman's +soul. I flew to earth, and saw a sick woman lying alone, who had +just given birth to twin girls. They moved feebly at their mother's +side, but she could not lift them to her breast. When she saw me, +she understood that God had sent me for her soul, and she wept and +said: 'Angel of God! My husband has just been buried, killed by a +falling tree. I have neither sister, nor aunt, nor mother: no one +to care for my orphans. Do not take my soul! Let me nurse my babes, +feed them, and set them on their feet before I die. Children cannot +live without father or mother.' And I hearkened to her. I placed +one child at her breast and gave the other into her arms, and +returned to the Lord in heaven. I flew to the Lord, and said: 'I +could not take the soul of the mother. Her husband was killed by a +tree; the woman has twins, and prays that her soul may not be taken. +She says: "Let me nurse and feed my children, and set them on their +feet. Children cannot live without father or mother." I have not +taken her soul.' And God said: 'Go-take the mother's soul, and learn +three truths: Learn What dwells in man, What is not given to man, +and What men live by. When thou has learnt these things, thou shalt +return to heaven.' So I flew again to earth and took the mother's +soul. The babes dropped from her breasts. Her body rolled over on +the bed and crushed one babe, twisting its leg. I rose above the +village, wishing to take her soul to God; but a wind seized me, and +my wings drooped and dropped off. Her soul rose alone to God, while +I fell to earth by the roadside." + + +XI + +And Simon and Matryona understood who it was that had lived with +them, and whom they had clothed and fed. And they wept with awe and +with joy. And the angel said: "I was alone in the field, naked. I +had never known human needs, cold and hunger, till I became a man. +I was famished, frozen, and did not know what to do. I saw, near +the field I was in, a shrine built for God, and I went to it hoping +to find shelter. But the shrine was locked, and I could not enter. +So I sat down behind the shrine to shelter myself at least from the +wind. Evening drew on. I was hungry, frozen, and in pain. +Suddenly I heard a man coming along the road. He carried a pair of +boots, and was talking to himself. For the first time since I +became a man I saw the mortal face of a man, and his face seemed +terrible to me and I turned from it. And I heard the man talking to +himself of how to cover his body from the cold in winter, and how to +feed wife and children. And I thought: "I am perishing of cold and +hunger, and here is a man thinking only of how to clothe himself and +his wife, and how to get bread for themselves. He cannot help me. +When the man saw me he frowned and became still more terrible, and +passed me by on the other side. I despaired; but suddenly I heard +him coming back. I looked up, and did not recognize the same man; +before, I had seen death in his face; but now he was alive, and I +recognized in him the presence of God. He came up to me, clothed +me, took me with him, and brought me to his home. I entered the +house; a woman came to meet us and began to speak. The woman was +still more terrible than the man had been; the spirit of death came +from her mouth; I could not breathe for the stench of death that +spread around her. She wished to drive me out into the cold, and I +knew that if she did so she would die. Suddenly her husband spoke +to her of God, and the woman changed at once. And when she brought +me food and looked at me, I glanced at her and saw that death no +longer dwelt in her; she had become alive, and in her, too, I saw God. + +"Then I remembered the first lesson God had set me: 'Learn what +dwells in man.' And I understood that in man dwells Love! I was glad +that God had already begun to show me what He had promised, and I +smiled for the first time. But I had not yet learnt all. I did not +yet know What is not given to man, and What men live by. + +"I lived with you, and a year passed. A man came to order boots +that should wear for a year without losing shape or cracking. I +looked at him, and suddenly, behind his shoulder, I saw my comrade-- +the angel of death. None but me saw that angel; but I knew him, and +knew that before the sun set he would take that rich man's soul. +And I thought to myself, 'The man is making preparations for a year, +and does not know that he will die before evening.' And I remembered +God's second saying, 'Learn what is not given to man.' + +"What dwells in man I already knew. Now I learnt what is not given +him. It is not given to man to know his own needs. And I smiled +for the second time. I was glad to have seen my comrade angel-- +glad also that God had revealed to me the second saying. + +"But I still did not know all. I did not know What men live by. +And I lived on, waiting till God should reveal to me the last +lesson. In the sixth year came the girl-twins with the woman; and I +recognized the girls, and heard how they had been kept alive. +Having heard the story, I thought, 'Their mother besought me for the +children's sake, and I believed her when she said that children +cannot live without father or mother; but a stranger has nursed +them, and has brought them up.' And when the woman showed her love +for the children that were not her own, and wept over them, I saw in +her the living God and understood What men live by. And I knew that +God had revealed to me the last lesson, and had forgiven my sin. +And then I smiled for the third time." + + +XII + +And the angel's body was bared, and he was clothed in light so that +eye could not look on him; and his voice grew louder, as though it +came not from him but from heaven above. And the angel said: + +"I have learnt that all men live not by care for themselves but by love. + +"It was not given to the mother to know what her children needed for +their life. Nor was it given to the rich man to know what he himself +needed. Nor is it given to any man to know whether, when evening +comes, he will need boots for his body or slippers for his corpse. + +"I remained alive when I was a man, not by care of myself, but +because love was present in a passer-by, and because he and his wife +pitied and loved me. The orphans remained alive not because of +their mother's care, but because there was love in the heart of a +woman, a stranger to them, who pitied and loved them. And all men +live not by the thought they spend on their own welfare, but because +love exists in man. + +"I knew before that God gave life to men and desires that they +should live; now I understood more than that. + +"I understood that God does not wish men to live apart, and +therefore he does not reveal to them what each one needs for +himself; but he wishes them to live united, and therefore reveals to +each of them what is necessary for all. + +"I have now understood that though it seems to men that they live by +care for themselves, in truth it is love alone by which they live. +He who has love, is in God, and God is in him, for God is love." + +And the angel sang praise to God, so that the hut trembled at his +voice. The roof opened, and a column of fire rose from earth to +heaven. Simon and his wife and children fell to the ground. Wings +appeared upon the angel's shoulders, and he rose into the heavens. + +And when Simon came to himself the hut stood as before, and there +was no one in it but his own family. + + + + +Three Questions + + + +It once occurred to a certain king, that if he always knew the right +time to begin everything; if he knew who were the right people to +listen to, and whom to avoid; and, above all, if he always knew what +was the most important thing to do, he would never fail in anything +he might undertake. + +And this thought having occurred to him, he had it proclaimed +throughout his kingdom that he would give a great reward to any one +who would teach him what was the right time for every action, and +who were the most necessary people, and how he might know what was +the most important thing to do. + +And learned men came to the King, but they all answered his +questions differently. + +In reply to the first question, some said that to know the right +time for every action, one must draw up in advance, a table of days, +months and years, and must live strictly according to it. Only +thus, said they, could everything be done at its proper time. +Others declared that it was impossible to decide beforehand the +right time for every action; but that, not letting oneself be +absorbed in idle pastimes, one should always attend to all that was +going on, and then do what was most needful. Others, again, said +that however attentive the King might be to what was going on, it +was impossible for one man to decide correctly the right time for +every action, but that he should have a Council of wise men, who +would help him to fix the proper time for everything. + +But then again others said there were some things which could not +wait to be laid before a Council, but about which one had at once to +decide whether to undertake them or not. But in order to decide +that, one must know beforehand what was going to happen. It is only +magicians who know that; and, therefore, in order to know the right +time for every action, one must consult magicians. + +Equally various were the answers to the second question. Some said, +the people the King most needed were his councillors; others, the +priests; others, the doctors; while some said the warriors were the +most necessary. + +To the third question, as to what was the most important occupation: +some replied that the most important thing in the world was science. +Others said it was skill in warfare; and others, again, that it was +religious worship. + +All the answers being different, the King agreed with none of them, +and gave the reward to none. But still wishing to find the right +answers to his questions, he decided to consult a hermit, widely +renowned for his wisdom. + +The hermit lived in a wood which he never quitted, and he received +none but common folk. So the King put on simple clothes, and before +reaching the hermit's cell dismounted from his horse, and, leaving +his body-guard behind, went on alone. + +When the King approached, the hermit was digging the ground in front +of his hut. Seeing the King, he greeted him and went on digging. +The hermit was frail and weak, and each time he stuck his spade into +the ground and turned a little earth, he breathed heavily. + +The King went up to him and said: "I have come to you, wise hermit, +to ask you to answer three questions: How can I learn to do the +right thing at the right time? Who are the people I most need, and +to whom should I, therefore, pay more attention than to the rest? +And, what affairs are the most important, and need my first attention?" + +The hermit listened to the King, but answered nothing. He just spat +on his hand and recommenced digging. + +"You are tired," said the King, "let me take the spade and work +awhile for you." + +"Thanks!" said the hermit, and, giving the spade to the King, he +sat down on the ground. + +When he had dug two beds, the King stopped and repeated his +questions. The hermit again gave no answer, but rose, stretched out +his hand for the spade, and said: + +"Now rest awhile-and let me work a bit." + +But the King did not give him the spade, and continued to dig. One +hour passed, and another. The sun began to sink behind the trees, +and the King at last stuck the spade into the ground, and said: + +"I came to you, wise man, for an answer to my questions. If you can +give me none, tell me so, and I will return home." + +"Here comes some one running," said the hermit, "let us see who it is." + +The King turned round, and saw a bearded man come running out of the +wood. The man held his hands pressed against his stomach, and blood +was flowing from under them. When he reached the King, he fell +fainting on the ground moaning feebly. The King and the hermit +unfastened the man's clothing. There was a large wound in his +stomach. The King washed it as best he could, and bandaged it with +his handkerchief and with a towel the hermit had. But the blood +would not stop flowing, and the King again and again removed the +bandage soaked with warm blood, and washed and rebandaged the wound. +When at last the blood ceased flowing, the man revived and asked for +something to drink. The King brought fresh water and gave it to +him. Meanwhile the sun had set, and it had become cool. So the +King, with the hermit's help, carried the wounded man into the hut +and laid him on the bed. Lying on the bed the man closed his eyes +and was quiet; but the King was so tired with his walk and with the +work he had done, that he crouched down on the threshold, and also +fell asleep--so soundly that he slept all through the short summer +night. When he awoke in the morning, it was long before he could +remember where he was, or who was the strange bearded man lying on +the bed and gazing intently at him with shining eyes. + +"Forgive me!" said the bearded man in a weak voice, when he saw +that the King was awake and was looking at him. + +"I do not know you, and have nothing to forgive you for," said the King. + +"You do not know me, but I know you. I am that enemy of yours who +swore to revenge himself on you, because you executed his brother +and seized his property. I knew you had gone alone to see the +hermit, and I resolved to kill you on your way back. But the day +passed and you did not return. So I came out from my ambush to find +you, and I came upon your bodyguard, and they recognized me, and +wounded me. I escaped from them, but should have bled to death had +you not dressed my wound. I wished to kill you, and you have saved +my life. Now, if I live, and if you wish it, I will serve you as your +most faithful slave, and will bid my sons do the same. Forgive me!" + +The King was very glad to have made peace with his enemy so easily, +and to have gained him for a friend, and he not only forgave him, +but said he would send his servants and his own physician to attend +him, and promised to restore his property. + +Having taken leave of the wounded man, the King went out into the +porch and looked around for the hermit. Before going away he wished +once more to beg an answer to the questions he had put. The hermit +was outside, on his knees, sowing seeds in the beds that had been +dug the day before. + +The King approached him, and said: + +"For the last time, I pray you to answer my questions, wise man." + +"You have already been answered!" said the hermit, still crouching +on his thin legs, and looking up at the King, who stood before him. + +"How answered? What do you mean?" asked the King. + +"Do you not see," replied the hermit. "If you had not pitied my +weakness yesterday, and had not dug those beds for me, but had gone +your way, that man would have attacked you, and you would have +repented of not having stayed with me. So the most important time +was when you were digging the beds; and I was the most important +man; and to do me good was your most important business. Afterwards +when that man ran to us, the most important time was when you were +attending to him, for if you had not bound up his wounds he would +have died without having made peace with you. So he was the most +important man, and what you did for him was your most important +business. Remember then: there is only one time that is important-- +Now! It is the most important time because it is the only time when +we have any power. The most necessary man is he with whom you are, +for no man knows whether he will ever have dealings with any one +else: and the most important affair is, to do him good, because for +that purpose alone was man sent into this life!" + + + + +The Coffee-House of Surat + +(After Bernardin de Saint-Pierre) + + + +In the town of Surat, in India, was a coffee-house where many travellers +and foreigners from all parts of the world met and conversed. + +One day a learned Persian theologian visited this coffee-house. He +was a man who had spent his life studying the nature of the Deity, +and reading and writing books upon the subject. He had thought, +read, and written so much about God, that eventually he lost his +wits, became quite confused, and ceased even to believe in the +existence of a God. The Shah, hearing of this, had banished him +from Persia. + +After having argued all his life about the First Cause, this +unfortunate theologian had ended by quite perplexing himself, and +instead of understanding that he had lost his own reason, he began +to think that there was no higher Reason controlling the universe. + +This man had an African slave who followed him everywhere. When the +theologian entered the coffee-house, the slave remained outside, near +the door, sitting on a stone in the glare of the sun, and driving +away the flies that buzzed around him. The Persian having settled +down on a divan in the coffee-house, ordered himself a cup of opium. +When he had drunk it and the opium had begun to quicken the workings +of his brain, he addressed his slave through the open door: + +"Tell me, wretched slave," said he, "do you think there is a God, or not?" + +"Of course there is," said the slave, and immediately drew from under +his girdle a small idol of wood. + +"There," said he, "that is the God who has guarded me from the day +of my birth. Every one in our country worships the fetish tree, +from the wood of which this God was made." + +This conversation between the theologian and his slave was listened +to with surprise by the other guests in the coffee-house. They +were astonished at the master's question, and yet more so at the +slave's reply. + +One of them, a Brahmin, on hearing the words spoken by the slave, +turned to him and said: + +"Miserable fool! Is it possible you believe that God can be carried +under a man's girdle? There is one God--Brahma, and he is greater +than the whole world, for he created it. Brahma is the One, the +mighty God, and in His honour are built the temples on the Ganges' +banks, where his true priests, the Brahmins, worship him. They know +the true God, and none but they. A thousand score of years have +passed, and yet through revolution after revolution these priests +have held their sway, because Brahma, the one true God, has +protected them." + +So spoke the Brahmin, thinking to convince every one; but a Jewish +broker who was present replied to him, and said: + +"No! the temple of the true God is not in India. Neither does God +protect the Brahmin caste. The true God is not the God of the +Brahmins, but of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. None does He protect +but His chosen people, the Israelites. From the commencement of the +world, our nation has been beloved of Him, and ours alone. If we +are now scattered over the whole earth, it is but to try us; for God +has promised that He will one day gather His people together in +Jerusalem. Then, with the Temple of Jerusalem--the wonder of the +ancient world--restored to its splendor, shall Israel be +established a ruler over all nations." + +So spoke the Jew, and burst into tears. He wished to say more, but +an Italian missionary who was there interrupted him. + +"What you are saying is untrue," said he to the Jew. "You attribute +injustice to God. He cannot love your nation above the rest. Nay +rather, even if it be true that of old He favored the Israelites, it +is now nineteen hundred years since they angered Him, and caused Him +to destroy their nation and scatter them over the earth, so that +their faith makes no converts and has died out except here and +there. God shows preference to no nation, but calls all who wish to +be saved to the bosom of the Catholic Church of Rome, the one outside +whose borders no salvation can be found." + +So spoke the Italian. But a Protestant minister, who happened to be +present, growing pale, turned to the Catholic missionary and exclaimed: + +"How can you say that salvation belongs to your religion? Those only +will be saved, who serve God according to the Gospel, in spirit and +in truth, as bidden by the word of Christ." + +Then a Turk, an office-holder in the custom-house at Surat, who was +sitting in the coffee-house smoking a pipe, turned with an air of +superiority to both the Christians. + +"Your belief in your Roman religion is vain," said he. "It was +superseded twelve hundred years ago by the true faith: that of +Mohammed! You cannot but observe how the true Mohammed faith +continues to spread both in Europe and Asia, and even in the +enlightened country of China. You say yourselves that God has +rejected the Jews; and, as a proof, you quote the fact that the Jews +are humiliated and their faith does not spread. Confess then the +truth of Mohammedanism, for it is triumphant and spreads far and +wide. None will be saved but the followers of Mohammed, God's +latest prophet; and of them, only the followers of Omar, and not of +Ali, for the latter are false to the faith." + +To this the Persian theologian, who was of the sect of Ali, wished +to reply; but by this time a great dispute had arisen among all the +strangers of different faiths and creeds present. There were +Abyssinian Christians, Llamas from Thibet, Ismailians and +Fireworshippers. They all argued about the nature of God, and how +He should be worshipped. Each of them asserted that in his country +alone was the true God known and rightly worshipped. + +Every one argued and shouted, except a Chinaman, a student of +Confucius, who sat quietly in one corner of the coffee-house, not +joining in the dispute. He sat there drinking tea and listening to +what the others said, but did not speak himself. + +The Turk noticed him sitting there, and appealed to him, saying: + +"You can confirm what I say, my good Chinaman. You hold your peace, but +if you spoke I know you would uphold my opinion. Traders from your +country, who come to me for assistance, tell me that though many religions +have been introduced into China, you Chinese consider Mohammedanism the +best of all, and adopt it willingly. Confirm, then, my words, and tell +us your opinion of the true God and of His prophet." + +"Yes, yes," said the rest, turning to the Chinaman, "let us hear what +you think on the subject." + +The Chinaman, the student of Confucius, closed his eyes, and thought +a while. Then he opened them again, and drawing his hands out of +the wide sleeves of his garment, and folding them on his breast, he +spoke as follows, in a calm and quiet voice. + +Sirs, it seems to me that it is chiefly pride that prevents men +agreeing with one another on matters of faith. If you care to +listen to me, I will tell you a story which will explain this by an +example. + +I came here from China on an English steamer which had been round the +world. We stopped for fresh water, and landed on the east coast of the +island of Sumatra. It was midday, and some of us, having landed, sat +in the shade of some cocoanut palms by the seashore, not far from a +native village. We were a party of men of different nationalities. + +As we sat there, a blind man approached us. We learned afterwards +that he had gone blind from gazing too long and too persistently at +the sun, trying to find out what it is, in order to seize its light. + +He strove a long time to accomplish this, constantly looking at the +sun; but the only result was that his eyes were injured by its +brightness, and he became blind. + +Then he said to himself: + +"The light of the sun is not a liquid; for if it were a liquid it +would be possible to pour it from one vessel into another, and it +would be moved, like water, by the wind. Neither is it fire; for if +it were fire, water would extinguish it. Neither is light a spirit, +for it is seen by the eye; nor is it matter, for it cannot be moved. +Therefore, as the light of the sun is neither liquid, nor fire, nor +spirit, nor matter, it is--nothing!" + +So he argued, and, as a result of always looking at the sun and +always thinking about it, he lost both his sight and his reason. +And when he went quite blind, he became fully convinced that the sun +did not exist. + +With this blind man came a slave, who after placing his master in +the shade of a cocoanut tree, picked up a cocoanut from the ground, +and began making it into a night-light. He twisted a wick from the +fibre of the cocoanut: squeezed oil from the nut in the shell, and +soaked the wick in it. + +As the slave sat doing this, the blind man sighed and said to him: + +"Well, slave, was I not right when I told you there is no sun? Do +you not see how dark it is? Yet people say there is a sun. . . . But +if so, what is it?" + +"I do not know what the sun is," said the slave. "That is no +business of mine. But I know what light is. Here I have made a +night-light, by the help of which I can serve you and find anything +I want in the hut." + +And the slave picked up the cocoanut shell, saying: + +"This is my sun." + +A lame man with crutches, who was sitting near by, heard these +words, and laughed: + +"You have evidently been blind all your life," said he to the blind +man, "not to know what the sun is. I will tell you what it is. The +sun is a ball of fire, which rises every morning out of the sea and +goes down again among the mountains of our island each evening. We +have all seen this, and if you had had your eyesight you too would +have seen it." + +A fisherman, who had been listening to the conversation said: + +"It is plain enough that you have never been beyond your own island. +If you were not lame, and if you had been out as I have in a +fishing-boat, you would know that the sun does not set among the +mountains of our island, but as it rises from the ocean every +morning so it sets again in the sea every night. What I am telling +you is true, for I see it every day with my own eyes." + +Then an Indian who was of our party, interrupted him by saying: + +"I am astonished that a reasonable man should talk such nonsense. +How can a ball of fire possibly descend into the water and not be +extinguished? The sun is not a ball of fire at all, it is the Deity +named Deva, who rides for ever in a chariot round the golden +mountain, Meru. Sometimes the evil serpents Ragu and Ketu attack +Deva and swallow him: and then the earth is dark. But our priests +pray that the Deity may be released, and then he is set free. Only +such ignorant men as you, who have never been beyond their own +island, can imagine that the sun shines for their country alone." + +Then the master of an Egyptian vessel, who was present, spoke in his turn. + +"No," said he, "you also are wrong. The sun is not a Deity, and does +not move only round India and its golden mountain. I have sailed much +on the Black Sea, and along the coasts of Arabia, and have been to +Madagascar and to the Philippines. The sun lights the whole earth, +and not India alone. It does not circle round one mountain, but rises +far in the East, beyond the Isles of Japan, and sets far, far away in +the West, beyond the islands of England. That is why the Japanese call +their country 'Nippon,' that is, 'the birth of the sun.' I know this +well, for I have myself seen much, and heard more from my grandfather, +who sailed to the very ends of the sea." + +He would have gone on, but an English sailor from our ship +interrupted him. + +"There is no country," he said "where people know so much about the +sun's movements as in England. The sun, as every one in England +knows, rises nowhere and sets nowhere. It is always moving round +the earth. We can be sure of this for we have just been round the +world ourselves, and nowhere knocked up against the sun. Wherever +we went, the sun showed itself in the morning and hid itself at +night, just as it does here." + +And the Englishman took a stick and, drawing circles on the sand, +tried to explain how the sun moves in the heavens and goes round the +world. But he was unable to explain it clearly, and pointing to the +ship's pilot said: + +"This man knows more about it than I do. He can explain it properly." + +The pilot, who was an intelligent man, had listened in silence to +the talk till he was asked to speak. Now every one turned to him, +and he said: + +"You are all misleading one another, and are yourselves deceived. +The sun does not go round the earth, but the earth goes round the +sun, revolving as it goes, and turning towards the sun in the course +of each twenty-four hours, not only Japan, and the Philippines, and +Sumatra where we now are, but Africa, and Europe, and America, and +many lands besides. The sun does not shine for some one mountain, +or for some one island, or for some one sea, nor even for one earth +alone, but for other planets as well as our earth. If you would +only look up at the heavens, instead of at the ground beneath your +own feet, you might all understand this, and would then no longer +suppose that the sun shines for you, or for your country alone." + +Thus spoke the wise pilot, who had voyaged much about the world, and +had gazed much upon the heavens above. + +"So on matters of faith," continued the Chinaman, the student of +Confucius, "it is pride that causes error and discord among men. As +with the sun, so it is with God. Each man wants to have a special +God of his own, or at least a special God for his native land. Each +nation wishes to confine in its own temples Him, whom the world +cannot contain. + +"Can any temple compare with that which God Himself has built to +unite all men in one faith and one religion? + +"All human temples are built on the model of this temple, which is +God's own world. Every temple has its fonts, its vaulted roof, its +lamps, its pictures or sculptures, its inscriptions, its books of +the law, its offerings, its altars and its priests. But in what +temple is there such a font as the ocean; such a vault as that of +the heavens; such lamps as the sun, moon, and stars; or any figures +to be compared with living, loving, mutually-helpful men? Where are +there any records of God's goodness so easy to understand as the +blessings which God has strewn abroad for man's happiness? Where is +there any book of the law so clear to each man as that written in +his heart? What sacrifices equal the self-denials which loving men +and women make for one another? And what altar can be compared with +the heart of a good man, on which God Himself accepts the sacrifice? + +"The higher a man's conception of God, the better will he know Him. +And the better he knows God, the nearer will he draw to Him, +imitating His goodness, His mercy, and His love of man. + +"Therefore, let him who sees the sun's whole light filling the world, +refrain from blaming or despising the superstitious man, who in his own +idol sees one ray of that same light. Let him not despise even the +unbeliever who is blind and cannot see the sun at all." + +So spoke the Chinaman, the student of Confucius; and all who were +present in the coffee-house were silent, and disputed no more as to +whose faith was the best. + + + + +How Much Land Does a +Man Need? + + + +I + +An elder sister came to visit her younger sister in the country. +The elder was married to a tradesman in town, the younger to a +peasant in the village. As the sisters sat over their tea talking, +the elder began to boast of the advantages of town life: saying how +comfortably they lived there, how well they dressed, what fine +clothes her children wore, what good things they ate and drank, and +how she went to the theatre, promenades, and entertainments. + +The younger sister was piqued, and in turn disparaged the life of a +tradesman, and stood up for that of a peasant. + +"I would not change my way of life for yours," said she. "We may +live roughly, but at least we are free from anxiety. You live in +better style than we do, but though you often earn more than you +need, you are very likely to lose all you have. You know the proverb, +'Loss and gain are brothers twain.' It often happens that people who +are wealthy one day are begging their bread the next. Our way is +safer. Though a peasant's life is not a fat one, it is a long one. +We shall never grow rich, but we shall always have enough to eat." + +The elder sister said sneeringly: + +"Enough? Yes, if you like to share with the pigs and the calves! +What do you know of elegance or manners! However much your good man +may slave, you will die as you are living-on a dung heap-and your +children the same." + +"Well, what of that?" replied the younger. "Of course our work is +rough and coarse. But, on the other hand, it is sure; and we need +not bow to any one. But you, in your towns, are surrounded by +temptations; today all may be right, but tomorrow the Evil One may +tempt your husband with cards, wine, or women, and all will go to +ruin. Don't such things happen often enough?" + +Pahom, the master of the house, was lying on the top of the oven, +and he listened to the women's chatter. + +"It is perfectly true," thought he. "Busy as we are from childhood +tilling Mother Earth, we peasants have no time to let any nonsense +settle in our heads. Our only trouble is that we haven't land +enough. If I had plenty of land, I shouldn't fear the Devil himself!" + +The women finished their tea, chatted a while about dress, and then +cleared away the tea-things and lay down to sleep. + +But the Devil had been sitting behind the oven, and had heard all +that was said. He was pleased that the peasant's wife had led her +husband into boasting, and that he had said that if he had plenty of +land he would not fear the Devil himself. + +"All right," thought the Devil. "We will have a tussle. I'll give you +land enough; and by means of that land I will get you into my power." + + +II + +Close to the village there lived a lady, a small landowner, who had +an estate of about three hundred acres. She had always lived on +good terms with the peasants, until she engaged as her steward an +old soldier, who took to burdening the people with fines. However +careful Pahom tried to be, it happened again and again that now a +horse of his got among the lady's oats, now a cow strayed into her +garden, now his calves found their way into her meadows-and he +always had to pay a fine. + +Pahom paid, but grumbled, and, going home in a temper, was rough +with his family. All through that summer Pahom had much trouble +because of this steward; and he was even glad when winter came and +the cattle had to be stabled. Though he grudged the fodder when +they could no longer graze on the pasture-land, at least he was free +from anxiety about them. + +In the winter the news got about that the lady was going to sell her +land, and that the keeper of the inn on the high road was bargaining +for it. When the peasants heard this they were very much alarmed. + +"Well," thought they, "if the innkeeper gets the land he will worry us +with fines worse than the lady's steward. We all depend on that estate." + +So the peasants went on behalf of their Commune, and asked the lady +not to sell the land to the innkeeper; offering her a better price +for it themselves. The lady agreed to let them have it. Then the +peasants tried to arrange for the Commune to buy the whole estate, +so that it might be held by all in common. They met twice to +discuss it, but could not settle the matter; the Evil One sowed +discord among them, and they could not agree. So they decided to +buy the land individually, each according to his means; and the lady +agreed to this plan as she had to the other. + +Presently Pahom heard that a neighbor of his was buying fifty acres, +and that the lady had consented to accept one half in cash and to +wait a year for the other half. Pahom felt envious. + +"Look at that," thought he, "the land is all being sold, and I shall +get none of it." So he spoke to his wife. + +"Other people are buying," said he, "and we must also buy twenty +acres or so. Life is becoming impossible. That steward is simply +crushing us with his fines." + +So they put their heads together and considered how they could +manage to buy it. They had one hundred roubles laid by. They sold +a colt, and one half of their bees; hired out one of their sons as a +laborer, and took his wages in advance; borrowed the rest from a +brother-in-law, and so scraped together half the purchase money. + +Having done this, Pahom chose out a farm of forty acres, some of it +wooded, and went to the lady to bargain for it. They came to an +agreement, and he shook hands with her upon it, and paid her a +deposit in advance. Then they went to town and signed the deeds; he +paying half the price down, and undertaking to pay the remainder +within two years. + +So now Pahom had land of his own. He borrowed seed, and sowed it on +the land he had bought. The harvest was a good one, and within a +year he had managed to pay off his debts both to the lady and to his +brother-in-law. So he became a landowner, ploughing and sowing his +own land, making hay on his own land, cutting his own trees, and +feeding his cattle on his own pasture. When he went out to plough +his fields, or to look at his growing corn, or at his grass meadows, +his heart would fill with joy. The grass that grew and the flowers +that bloomed there, seemed to him unlike any that grew elsewhere. +Formerly, when he had passed by that land, it had appeared the same +as any other land, but now it seemed quite different. + + +III + +So Pahom was well contented, and everything would have been right if +the neighboring peasants would only not have trespassed on his corn- +fields and meadows. He appealed to them most civilly, but they +still went on: now the Communal herdsmen would let the village cows +stray into his meadows; then horses from the night pasture would get +among his corn. Pahom turned them out again and again, and forgave +their owners, and for a long time he forbore from prosecuting any +one. But at last he lost patience and complained to the District +Court. He knew it was the peasants' want of land, and no evil +intent on their part, that caused the trouble; but he thought: + +"I cannot go on overlooking it, or they will destroy all I have. +They must be taught a lesson." + +So he had them up, gave them one lesson, and then another, and two +or three of the peasants were fined. After a time Pahom's +neighbours began to bear him a grudge for this, and would now and +then let their cattle on his land on purpose. One peasant even got +into Pahom's wood at night and cut down five young lime trees for +their bark. Pahom passing through the wood one day noticed +something white. He came nearer, and saw the stripped trunks lying +on the ground, and close by stood the stumps, where the tree had +been. Pahom was furious. + +"If he had only cut one here and there it would have been bad enough," +thought Pahom, "but the rascal has actually cut down a whole clump. +If I could only find out who did this, I would pay him out." + +He racked his brains as to who it could be. Finally he decided: "It +must be Simon-no one else could have done it." Se he went to +Simon's homestead to have a look around, but he found nothing, and +only had an angry scene. However' he now felt more certain than +ever that Simon had done it, and he lodged a complaint. Simon was +summoned. The case was tried, and re-tried, and at the end of it +all Simon was acquitted, there being no evidence against him. Pahom +felt still more aggrieved, and let his anger loose upon the Elder +and the Judges. + +"You let thieves grease your palms," said he. "If you were honest +folk yourselves, you would not let a thief go free." + +So Pahom quarrelled with the Judges and with his neighbors. Threats +to burn his building began to be uttered. So though Pahom had more +land, his place in the Commune was much worse than before. + +About this time a rumor got about that many people were moving to +new parts. + +"There's no need for me to leave my land," thought Pahom. "But some +of the others might leave our village, and then there would be more +room for us. I would take over their land myself, and make my +estate a bit bigger. I could then live more at ease. As it is, I +am still too cramped to be comfortable." + +One day Pahom was sitting at home, when a peasant passing through +the village, happened to call in. He was allowed to stay the night, +and supper was given him. Pahom had a talk with this peasant and +asked him where he came from. The stranger answered that he came +from beyond the Volga, where he had been working. One word led to +another, and the man went on to say that many people were settling +in those parts. He told how some people from his village had +settled there. They had joined the Commune, and had had twenty-five +acres per man granted them. The land was so good, he said, that the +rye sown on it grew as high as a horse, and so thick that five cuts +of a sickle made a sheaf. One peasant, he said, had brought nothing +with him but his bare hands, and now he had six horses and two cows +of his own. + +Pahom's heart kindled with desire. He thought: + +"Why should I suffer in this narrow hole, if one can live so well +elsewhere? I will sell my land and my homestead here, and with the +money I will start afresh over there and get everything new. In +this crowded place one is always having trouble. But I must first +go and find out all about it myself." + +Towards summer he got ready and started. He went down the Volga on +a steamer to Samara, then walked another three hundred miles on +foot, and at last reached the place. It was just as the stranger +had said. The peasants had plenty of land: every man had twenty- +five acres of Communal land given him for his use, and any one who +had money could buy, besides, at fifty-cents an acre as much good +freehold land as he wanted. + +Having found out all he wished to know, Pahom returned home as +autumn came on, and began selling off his belongings. He sold his +land at a profit, sold his homestead and all his cattle, and +withdrew from membership of the Commune. He only waited till the +spring, and then started with his family for the new settlement. + + +IV + +As soon as Pahom and his family arrived at their new abode, he +applied for admission into the Commune of a large village. He stood +treat to the Elders, and obtained the necessary documents. Five +shares of Communal land were given him for his own and his sons' +use: that is to say--125 acres (not altogether, but in different +fields) besides the use of the Communal pasture. Pahom put up the +buildings he needed, and bought cattle. Of the Communal land alone +he had three times as much as at his former home, and the land was +good corn-land. He was ten times better off than he had been. He +had plenty of arable land and pasturage, and could keep as many head +of cattle as he liked. + +At first, in the bustle of building and settling down, Pahom was +pleased with it all, but when he got used to it he began to think +that even here he had not enough land. The first year, he sowed +wheat on his share of the Communal land, and had a good crop. He +wanted to go on sowing wheat, but had not enough Communal land for +the purpose, and what he had already used was not available; for in +those parts wheat is only sown on virgin soil or on fallow land. It +is sown for one or two years, and then the land lies fallow till it +is again overgrown with prairie grass. There were many who wanted +such land, and there was not enough for all; so that people +quarrelled about it. Those who were better off, wanted it for +growing wheat, and those who were poor, wanted it to let to dealers, +so that they might raise money to pay their taxes. Pahom wanted to +sow more wheat; so he rented land from a dealer for a year. He +sowed much wheat and had a fine crop, but the land was too far from +the village--the wheat had to be carted more than ten miles. After +a time Pahom noticed that some peasant-dealers were living on +separate farms, and were growing wealthy; and he thought: + +"If I were to buy some freehold land, and have a homestead on it, it +would be a different thing, altogether. Then it would all be nice +and compact." + +The question of buying freehold land recurred to him again and again. + +He went on in the same way for three years; renting land and sowing +wheat. The seasons turned out well and the crops were good, so that +he began to lay money by. He might have gone on living contentedly, +but he grew tired of having to rent other people's land every year, +and having to scramble for it. Wherever there was good land to be +had, the peasants would rush for it and it was taken up at once, so +that unless you were sharp about it you got none. It happened in +the third year that he and a dealer together rented a piece of +pasture land from some peasants; and they had already ploughed it +up, when there was some dispute, and the peasants went to law about +it, and things fell out so that the labor was all lost. +"If it were my own land," thought Pahom, "I should be independent, +and there would not be all this unpleasantness." + +So Pahom began looking out for land which he could buy; and he came +across a peasant who had bought thirteen hundred acres, but having +got into difficulties was willing to sell again cheap. Pahom +bargained and haggled with him, and at last they settled the price +at 1,500 roubles, part in cash and part to be paid later. They had +all but clinched the matter, when a passing dealer happened to stop +at Pahom's one day to get a feed for his horse. He drank tea with +Pahom, and they had a talk. The dealer said that he was just +returning from the land of the Bashkirs, far away, where he had +bought thirteen thousand acres of land all for 1,000 roubles. Pahom +questioned him further, and the tradesman said: + +"All one need do is to make friends with the chiefs. I gave away +about one hundred roubles' worth of dressing-gowns and carpets, +besides a case of tea, and I gave wine to those who would drink it; +and I got the land for less than two cents an acre. And he showed +Pahom the title-deeds, saying: + +"The land lies near a river, and the whole prairie is virgin soil." + +Pahom plied him with questions, and the tradesman said: + +"There is more land there than you could cover if you walked a year, +and it all belongs to the Bashkirs. They are as simple as sheep, +and land can be got almost for nothing." + +"There now," thought Pahom, "with my one thousand roubles, why +should I get only thirteen hundred acres, and saddle myself with a +debt besides. If I take it out there, I can get more than ten times +as much for the money." + + +V + +Pahom inquired how to get to the place, and as soon as the tradesman +had left him, he prepared to go there himself. He left his wife to +look after the homestead, and started on his journey taking his man +with him. They stopped at a town on their way, and bought a case of +tea, some wine, and other presents, as the tradesman had advised. +On and on they went until they had gone more than three hundred +miles, and on the seventh day they came to a place where the +Bashkirs had pitched their tents. It was all just as the tradesman +had said. The people lived on the steppes, by a river, in felt- +covered tents. They neither tilled the ground, nor ate bread. +Their cattle and horses grazed in herds on the steppe. The colts +were tethered behind the tents, and the mares were driven to them +twice a day. The mares were milked, and from the milk kumiss was +made. It was the women who prepared kumiss, and they also made +cheese. As far as the men were concerned, drinking kumiss and tea, +eating mutton, and playing on their pipes, was all they cared about. +They were all stout and merry, and all the summer long they never +thought of doing any work. They were quite ignorant, and knew no +Russian, but were good-natured enough. + +As soon as they saw Pahom, they came out of their tents and gathered +round their visitor. An interpreter was found, and Pahom told them +he had come about some land. The Bashkirs seemed very glad; they +took Pahom and led him into one of the best tents, where they made +him sit on some down cushions placed on a carpet, while they sat +round him. They gave him tea and kumiss, and had a sheep killed, +and gave him mutton to eat. Pahom took presents out of his cart and +distributed them among the Bashkirs, and divided amongst them the +tea. The Bashkirs were delighted. They talked a great deal among +themselves, and then told the interpreter to translate. + +"They wish to tell you," said the interpreter, "that they like you, +and that it is our custom to do all we can to please a guest and to +repay him for his gifts. You have given us presents, now tell us +which of the things we possess please you best, that we may present +them to you." + +"What pleases me best here," answered Pahom, "is your land. Our +land is crowded, and the soil is exhausted; but you have plenty of +land and it is good land. I never saw the like of it." + +The interpreter translated. The Bashkirs talked among themselves +for a while. Pahom could not understand what they were saying, but +saw that they were much amused, and that they shouted and laughed. +Then they were silent and looked at Pahom while the interpreter said: + +"They wish me to tell you that in return for your presents they will +gladly give you as much land as you want. You have only to point it +out with your hand and it is yours." + +The Bashkirs talked again for a while and began to dispute. Pahom +asked what they were disputing about, and the interpreter told him +that some of them thought they ought to ask their Chief about the +land and not act in his absence, while others thought there was no +need to wait for his return. + + +VI + +While the Bashkirs were disputing, a man in a large fox-fur cap +appeared on the scene. They all became silent and rose to their +feet. The interpreter said, "This is our Chief himself." + +Pahom immediately fetched the best dressing-gown and five pounds of +tea, and offered these to the Chief. The Chief accepted them, and +seated himself in the place of honour. The Bashkirs at once began +telling him something. The Chief listened for a while, then made a +sign with his head for them to be silent, and addressing himself to +Pahom, said in Russian: + +"Well, let it be so. Choose whatever piece of land you like; we +have plenty of it." + +"How can I take as much as I like?" thought Pahom. "I must get a +deed to make it secure, or else they may say, 'It is yours,' and +afterwards may take it away again." + +"Thank you for your kind words," he said aloud. "You have much +land, and I only want a little. But I should like to be sure which +bit is mine. Could it not be measured and made over to me? Life and +death are in God's hands. You good people give it to me, but your +children might wish to take it away again." + +"You are quite right," said the Chief. "We will make it over to you." + +"I heard that a dealer had been here," continued Pahom, "and that +you gave him a little land, too, and signed title-deeds to that +effect. I should like to have it done in the same way." + +The Chief understood. + +"Yes," replied he, "that can be done quite easily. We have a scribe, +and we will go to town with you and have the deed properly sealed." + +"And what will be the price?" asked Pahom. + +"Our price is always the same: one thousand roubles a day." + +Pahom did not understand. + +"A day? What measure is that? How many acres would that be?" + +"We do not know how to reckon it out," said the Chief. "We sell it +by the day. As much as you can go round on your feet in a day is +yours, and the price is one thousand roubles a day." + +Pahom was surprised. + +"But in a day you can get round a large tract of land," he said. + +The Chief laughed. + +"It will all be yours!" said he. "But there is one condition: If +you don't return on the same day to the spot whence you started, +your money is lost." + +"But how am I to mark the way that I have gone?" + +"Why, we shall go to any spot you like, and stay there. You must +start from that spot and make your round, taking a spade with you. +Wherever you think necessary, make a mark. At every turning, dig a +hole and pile up the turf; then afterwards we will go round with a +plough from hole to hole. You may make as large a circuit as you +please, but before the sun sets you must return to the place you +started from. All the land you cover will be yours." + +Pahom was delighted. It-was decided to start early next morning. +They talked a while, and after drinking some more kumiss and eating +some more mutton, they had tea again, and then the night came on. +They gave Pahom a feather-bed to sleep on, and the Bashkirs +dispersed for the night, promising to assemble the next morning at +daybreak and ride out before sunrise to the appointed spot. + + +VII + +Pahom lay on the feather-bed, but could not sleep. He kept thinking +about the land. + +"What a large tract I will mark off!" thought he. "I can easily go +thirty-five miles in a day. The days are long now, and within a +circuit of thirty-five miles what a lot of land there will be! I +will sell the poorer land, or let it to peasants, but I'll pick out +the best and farm it. I will buy two ox-teams, and hire two more +laborers. About a hundred and fifty acres shall be plough-land, and +I will pasture cattle on the rest." + +Pahom lay awake all night, and dozed off only just before dawn. +Hardly were his eyes closed when he had a dream. He thought he was +lying in that same tent, and heard somebody chuckling outside. He +wondered who it could be, and rose and went out, and he saw the +Bashkir Chief sitting in front of the tent holding his side and +rolling about with laughter. Going nearer to the Chief, Pahom +asked: "What are you laughing at?" But he saw that it was no longer +the Chief, but the dealer who had recently stopped at his house and +had told him about the land. Just as Pahom was going to ask, "Have +you been here long?" he saw that it was not the dealer, but the +peasant who had come up from the Volga, long ago, to Pahom's old +home. Then he saw that it was not the peasant either, but the Devil +himself with hoofs and horns, sitting there and chuckling, and +before him lay a man barefoot, prostrate on the ground, with only +trousers and a shirt on. And Pahom dreamt that he looked more +attentively to see what sort of a man it was lying there, and he saw +that the man was dead, and that it was himself! He awoke horror-struck. + +"What things one does dream," thought he. + +Looking round he saw through the open door that the dawn was breaking. + +"It's time to wake them up," thought he. "We ought to be starting." + +He got up, roused his man (who was sleeping in his cart), bade him +harness; and went to call the Bashkirs. + +"It's time to go to the steppe to measure the land," he said. + +The Bashkirs rose and assembled, and the Chief came, too. Then they +began drinking kumiss again, and offered Pahom some tea, but he +would not wait. + +"If we are to go, let us go. It is high time," said he. + + +VIII + +The Bashkirs got ready and they all started: some mounted on horses, +and some in carts. Pahom drove in his own small cart with his +servant, and took a spade with him. When they reached the steppe, +the morning red was beginning to kindle. They ascended a hillock +(called by the Bashkirs a shikhan) and dismounting from their carts +and their horses, gathered in one spot. The Chief came up to Pahom +and stretched out his arm towards the plain: + +"See," said he, "all this, as far as your eye can reach, is ours. +You may have any part of it you like." + +Pahom's eyes glistened: it was all virgin soil, as flat as the palm +of your hand, as black as the seed of a poppy, and in the hollows +different kinds of grasses grew breast high. + +The Chief took off his fox-fur cap, placed it on the ground and said: + +"This will be the mark. Start from here, and return here again. +All the land you go round shall be yours." + +Pahom took out his money and put it on the cap. Then he took off +his outer coat, remaining in his sleeveless under coat. He +unfastened his girdle and tied it tight below his stomach, put a +little bag of bread into the breast of his coat, and tying a flask +of water to his girdle, he drew up the tops of his boots, took the +spade from his man, and stood ready to start. He considered for +some moments which way he had better go--it was tempting everywhere. + +"No matter," he concluded, "I will go towards the rising sun." + +He turned his face to the east, stretched himself, and waited for +the sun to appear above the rim. + +"I must lose no time," he thought, "and it is easier walking while +it is still cool." + +The sun's rays had hardly flashed above the horizon, before Pahom, +carrying the spade over his shoulder, went down into the steppe. + +Pahom started walking neither slowly nor quickly. After having gone +a thousand yards he stopped, dug a hole and placed pieces of turf +one on another to make it more visible. Then he went on; and now +that he had walked off his stiffness he quickened his pace. After a +while he dug another hole. + +Pahom looked back. The hillock could be distinctly seen in the +sunlight, with the people on it, and the glittering tires of the +cartwheels. At a rough guess Pahom concluded that he had walked +three miles. It was growing warmer; he took off his under-coat, +flung it across his shoulder, and went on again. It had grown quite +warm now; he looked at the sun, it was time to think of breakfast. + +"The first shift is done, but there are four in a day, and it is too +soon yet to turn. But I will just take off my boots," said he to himself. + +He sat down, took off his boots, stuck them into his girdle, and went on. +It was easy walking now. + +"I will go on for another three miles," thought he, "and then turn +to the left. The spot is so fine, that it would be a pity to lose +it. The further one goes, the better the land seems." + +He went straight on a for a while, and when he looked round, the +hillock was scarcely visible and the people on it looked like black +ants, and he could just see something glistening there in the sun. + +"Ah," thought Pahom, "I have gone far enough in this direction, it +is time to turn. Besides I am in a regular sweat, and very thirsty." + +He stopped, dug a large hole, and heaped up pieces of turf. Next he +untied his flask, had a drink, and then turned sharply to the left. +He went on and on; the grass was high, and it was very hot. + +Pahom began to grow tired: he looked at the sun and saw that it was noon. + +"Well," he thought, "I must have a rest." + +He sat down, and ate some bread and drank some water; but he did not +lie down, thinking that if he did he might fall asleep. After +sitting a little while, he went on again. At first he walked +easily: the food had strengthened him; but it had become terribly +hot, and he felt sleepy; still he went on, thinking: "An hour to +suffer, a life-time to live." + +He went a long way in this direction also, and was about to turn to +the left again, when he perceived a damp hollow: "It would be a pity +to leave that out," he thought. "Flax would do well there." So he +went on past the hollow, and dug a hole on the other side of it +before he turned the corner. Pahom looked towards the hillock. The +heat made the air hazy: it seemed to be quivering, and through the +haze the people on the hillock could scarcely be seen. + +"Ah!" thought Pahom, "I have made the sides too long; I must make +this one shorter." And he went along the third side, stepping +faster. He looked at the sun: it was nearly half way to the +horizon, and he had not yet done two miles of the third side of the +square. He was still ten miles from the goal. + +"No," he thought, "though it will make my land lopsided, I must +hurry back in a straight line now. I might go too far, and as it is +I have a great deal of land." + +So Pahom hurriedly dug a hole, and turned straight towards the hillock. + + +IX + +Pahom went straight towards the hillock, but he now walked with +difficulty. He was done up with the heat, his bare feet were cut +and bruised, and his legs began to fail. He longed to rest, but it +was impossible if he meant to get back before sunset. The sun waits +for no man, and it was sinking lower and lower. + +"Oh dear," he thought, "if only I have not blundered trying for too +much! What if I am too late?" + +He looked towards the hillock and at the sun. He was still far from +his goal, and the sun was already near the rim. Pahom walked on and +on; it was very hard walking, but he went quicker and quicker. He +pressed on, but was still far from the place. He began running, +threw away his coat, his boots, his flask, and his cap, and kept +only the spade which he used as a support. + +"What shall I do," he thought again, "I have grasped too much, and +ruined the whole affair. I can't get there before the sun sets." + +And this fear made him still more breathless. Pahom went on +running, his soaking shirt and trousers stuck to him, and his mouth +was parched. His breast was working like a blacksmith's bellows, +his heart was beating like a hammer, and his legs were giving way as +if they did not belong to him. Pahom was seized with terror lest he +should die of the strain. + +Though afraid of death, he could not stop. "After having run all +that way they will call me a fool if I stop now," thought he. And +he ran on and on, and drew near and heard the Bashkirs yelling and +shouting to him, and their cries inflamed his heart still more. He +gathered his last strength and ran on. + +The sun was close to the rim, and cloaked in mist looked large, and +red as blood. Now, yes now, it was about to set! The sun was quite +low, but he was also quite near his aim. Pahom could already see +the people on the hillock waving their arms to hurry him up. He +could see the fox-fur cap on the ground, and the money on it, and +the Chief sitting on the ground holding his sides. And Pahom +remembered his dream. + +"There is plenty of land," thought he, "but will God let me live on +it? I have lost my life, I have lost my life! I shall never reach +that spot!" + +Pahom looked at the sun, which had reached the earth: one side of it +had already disappeared. With all his remaining strength he rushed +on, bending his body forward so that his legs could hardly follow +fast enough to keep him from falling. Just as he reached the +hillock it suddenly grew dark. He looked up--the sun had already +set. He gave a cry: "All my labor has been in vain," thought he, +and was about to stop, but he heard the Bashkirs still shouting, and +remembered that though to him, from below, the sun seemed to have +set, they on the hillock could still see it. He took a long breath +and ran up the hillock. It was still light there. He reached the +top and saw the cap. Before it sat the Chief laughing and holding +his sides. Again Pahom remembered his dream, and he uttered a cry: +his legs gave way beneath him, he fell forward and reached the cap +with his hands. + +"Ah, what a fine fellow!" exclaimed the Chief. "He has gained +much land!" + +Pahom's servant came running up and tried to raise him, but he saw +that blood was flowing from his mouth. Pahom was dead! + +The Bashkirs clicked their tongues to show their pity. + +His servant picked up the spade and dug a grave long enough for +Pahom to lie in, and buried him in it. Six feet from his head to +his heels was all he needed. + + + + +Footnotes: + +1. One hundred kopeks make a rouble. The kopek is worth about +half a cent. + +2. A non-intoxicating drink usually made from rye-malt and rye-flour. + +3. The brick oven in a Russian peasant's hut is usually built so +as to leave a flat top, large enough to lie on, for those who want +to sleep in a warm place. + +4. 120 "desyatins." The "desyatina" is properly 2.7 acres; but in +this story round numbers are used. + +5. Three roubles per "desyatina." + +6. Five "kopeks" for a "desyatina." + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's What Men Live By and Other Tales, by Leo Tolstoy + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHAT MEN LIVE BY *** + +This file should be named wmnlb10.txt or wmnlb10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, wmnlb11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, wmnlb10a.txt + +Produced by Joe Jurca + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: War and Peace + +Author: Leo Tolstoy + +Translator: Louise and Aylmer Maude + +Release Date: April, 2001 [EBook #2600] +[This file was first posted on October 7, 2003] +[Most recently updated: May 21, 2006] + +Edition: 11 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, WAR AND PEACE *** + + + + + + + + + + +War and Peace + +by Leo Tolstoy/Tolstoi + + + + +BOOK ONE: 1805 + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +"Well, Prince, so Genoa and Lucca are now just family estates of the +Buonapartes. But I warn you, if you don't tell me that this means war, +if you still try to defend the infamies and horrors perpetrated by +that Antichrist--I really believe he is Antichrist--I will have +nothing more to do with you and you are no longer my friend, no longer +my 'faithful slave,' as you call yourself! But how do you do? I see +I have frightened you--sit down and tell me all the news." + +It was in July, 1805, and the speaker was the well-known Anna +Pavlovna Scherer, maid of honor and favorite of the Empress Marya +Fedorovna. With these words she greeted Prince Vasili Kuragin, a man +of high rank and importance, who was the first to arrive at her +reception. Anna Pavlovna had had a cough for some days. She was, as +she said, suffering from la grippe; grippe being then a new word in +St. Petersburg, used only by the elite. + +All her invitations without exception, written in French, and +delivered by a scarlet-liveried footman that morning, ran as follows: + +"If you have nothing better to do, Count [or Prince], and if the +prospect of spending an evening with a poor invalid is not too +terrible, I shall be very charmed to see you tonight between 7 and 10- +Annette Scherer." + +"Heavens! what a virulent attack!" replied the prince, not in the +least disconcerted by this reception. He had just entered, wearing +an embroidered court uniform, knee breeches, and shoes, and had +stars on his breast and a serene expression on his flat face. He spoke +in that refined French in which our grandfathers not only spoke but +thought, and with the gentle, patronizing intonation natural to a +man of importance who had grown old in society and at court. He went +up to Anna Pavlovna, kissed her hand, presenting to her his bald, +scented, and shining head, and complacently seated himself on the +sofa. + +"First of all, dear friend, tell me how you are. Set your friend's +mind at rest," said he without altering his tone, beneath the +politeness and affected sympathy of which indifference and even +irony could be discerned. + +"Can one be well while suffering morally? Can one be calm in times +like these if one has any feeling?" said Anna Pavlovna. "You are +staying the whole evening, I hope?" + +"And the fete at the English ambassador's? Today is Wednesday. I +must put in an appearance there," said the prince. "My daughter is +coming for me to take me there." + +"I thought today's fete had been canceled. I confess all these +festivities and fireworks are becoming wearisome." + +"If they had known that you wished it, the entertainment would +have been put off," said the prince, who, like a wound-up clock, by +force of habit said things he did not even wish to be believed. + +"Don't tease! Well, and what has been decided about Novosiltsev's +dispatch? You know everything." + +"What can one say about it?" replied the prince in a cold, +listless tone. "What has been decided? They have decided that +Buonaparte has burnt his boats, and I believe that we are ready to +burn ours." + +Prince Vasili always spoke languidly, like an actor repeating a +stale part. Anna Pavlovna Scherer on the contrary, despite her forty +years, overflowed with animation and impulsiveness. To be an +enthusiast had become her social vocation and, sometimes even when she +did not feel like it, she became enthusiastic in order not to +disappoint the expectations of those who knew her. The subdued smile +which, though it did not suit her faded features, always played +round her lips expressed, as in a spoiled child, a continual +consciousness of her charming defect, which she neither wished, nor +could, nor considered it necessary, to correct. + +In the midst of a conversation on political matters Anna Pavlovna +burst out: + +"Oh, don't speak to me of Austria. Perhaps I don't understand +things, but Austria never has wished, and does not wish, for war. +She is betraying us! Russia alone must save Europe. Our gracious +sovereign recognizes his high vocation and will be true to it. That is +the one thing I have faith in! Our good and wonderful sovereign has to +perform the noblest role on earth, and he is so virtuous and noble +that God will not forsake him. He will fulfill his vocation and +crush the hydra of revolution, which has become more terrible than +ever in the person of this murderer and villain! We alone must +avenge the blood of the just one.... Whom, I ask you, can we rely +on?... England with her commercial spirit will not and cannot +understand the Emperor Alexander's loftiness of soul. She has +refused to evacuate Malta. She wanted to find, and still seeks, some +secret motive in our actions. What answer did Novosiltsev get? None. +The English have not understood and cannot understand the +self-abnegation of our Emperor who wants nothing for himself, but only +desires the good of mankind. And what have they promised? Nothing! And +what little they have promised they will not perform! Prussia has +always declared that Buonaparte is invincible, and that all Europe +is powerless before him.... And I don't believe a word that Hardenburg +says, or Haugwitz either. This famous Prussian neutrality is just a +trap. I have faith only in God and the lofty destiny of our adored +monarch. He will save Europe!" + +She suddenly paused, smiling at her own impetuosity. + +"I think," said the prince with a smile, "that if you had been +sent instead of our dear Wintzingerode you would have captured the +King of Prussia's consent by assault. You are so eloquent. Will you +give me a cup of tea?" + +"In a moment. A propos," she added, becoming calm again, "I am +expecting two very interesting men tonight, le Vicomte de Mortemart, +who is connected with the Montmorencys through the Rohans, one of +the best French families. He is one of the genuine emigres, the good +ones. And also the Abbe Morio. Do you know that profound thinker? He +has been received by the Emperor. Had you heard?" + +"I shall be delighted to meet them," said the prince. "But tell me," +he added with studied carelessness as if it had only just occurred +to him, though the question he was about to ask was the chief motive +of his visit, "is it true that the Dowager Empress wants Baron Funke +to be appointed first secretary at Vienna? The baron by all accounts +is a poor creature." + +Prince Vasili wished to obtain this post for his son, but others +were trying through the Dowager Empress Marya Fedorovna to secure it +for the baron. + +Anna Pavlovna almost closed her eyes to indicate that neither she +nor anyone else had a right to criticize what the Empress desired or +was pleased with. + +"Baron Funke has been recommended to the Dowager Empress by her +sister," was all she said, in a dry and mournful tone. + +As she named the Empress, Anna Pavlovna's face suddenly assumed an +expression of profound and sincere devotion and respect mingled with +sadness, and this occurred every time she mentioned her illustrious +patroness. She added that Her Majesty had deigned to show Baron +Funke beaucoup d'estime, and again her face clouded over with sadness. + +The prince was silent and looked indifferent. But, with the +womanly and courtierlike quickness and tact habitual to her, Anna +Pavlovna wished both to rebuke him (for daring to speak he had done of +a man recommended to the Empress) and at the same time to console him, +so she said: + +"Now about your family. Do you know that since your daughter came +out everyone has been enraptured by her? They say she is amazingly +beautiful." + +The prince bowed to signify his respect and gratitude. + +"I often think," she continued after a short pause, drawing nearer +to the prince and smiling amiably at him as if to show that +political and social topics were ended and the time had come for +intimate conversation--"I often think how unfairly sometimes the +joys of life are distributed. Why has fate given you two such splendid +children? I don't speak of Anatole, your youngest. I don't like +him," she added in a tone admitting of no rejoinder and raising her +eyebrows. "Two such charming children. And really you appreciate +them less than anyone, and so you don't deserve to have them." + +And she smiled her ecstatic smile. + +"I can't help it," said the prince. "Lavater would have said I +lack the bump of paternity." + +"Don't joke; I mean to have a serious talk with you. Do you know I +am dissatisfied with your younger son? Between ourselves" (and her +face assumed its melancholy expression), "he was mentioned at Her +Majesty's and you were pitied...." + +The prince answered nothing, but she looked at him significantly, +awaiting a reply. He frowned. + +"What would you have me do?" he said at last. "You know I did all +a father could for their education, and they have both turned out +fools. Hippolyte is at least a quiet fool, but Anatole is an active +one. That is the only difference between them." He said this smiling +in a way more natural and animated than usual, so that the wrinkles +round his mouth very clearly revealed something unexpectedly coarse +and unpleasant. + +"And why are children born to such men as you? If you were not a +father there would be nothing I could reproach you with," said Anna +Pavlovna, looking up pensively. + +"I am your faithful slave and to you alone I can confess that my +children are the bane of my life. It is the cross I have to bear. That +is how I explain it to myself. It can't be helped!" + +He said no more, but expressed his resignation to cruel fate by a +gesture. Anna Pavlovna meditated. + +"Have you never thought of marrying your prodigal son Anatole?" +she asked. "They say old maids have a mania for matchmaking, and +though I don't feel that weakness in myself as yet, I know a little +person who is very unhappy with her father. She is a relation of +yours, Princess Mary Bolkonskaya." + +Prince Vasili did not reply, though, with the quickness of memory +and perception befitting a man of the world, he indicated by a +movement of the head that he was considering this information. + +"Do you know," he said at last, evidently unable to check the sad +current of his thoughts, "that Anatole is costing me forty thousand +rubles a year? And," he went on after a pause, "what will it be in +five years, if he goes on like this?" Presently he added: "That's what +we fathers have to put up with.... Is this princess of yours rich?" + +"Her father is very rich and stingy. He lives in the country. He +is the well-known Prince Bolkonski who had to retire from the army +under the late Emperor, and was nicknamed 'the King of Prussia.' He is +very clever but eccentric, and a bore. The poor girl is very +unhappy. She has a brother; I think you know him, he married Lise +Meinen lately. He is an aide-de-camp of Kutuzov's and will be here +tonight." + +"Listen, dear Annette," said the prince, suddenly taking Anna +Pavlovna's hand and for some reason drawing it downwards. "Arrange +that affair for me and I shall always be your most devoted slave- +slafe with an f, as a village elder of mine writes in his reports. +She is rich and of good family and that's all I want." + +And with the familiarity and easy grace peculiar to him, he raised +the maid of honor's hand to his lips, kissed it, and swung it to and +fro as he lay back in his armchair, looking in another direction. + +"Attendez," said Anna Pavlovna, reflecting, "I'll speak to Lise, +young Bolkonski's wife, this very evening, and perhaps the thing can +be arranged. It shall be on your family's behalf that I'll start my +apprenticeship as old maid." + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Anna Pavlovna's drawing room was gradually filling. The highest +Petersburg society was assembled there: people differing widely in age +and character but alike in the social circle to which they belonged. +Prince Vasili's daughter, the beautiful Helene, came to take her +father to the ambassador's entertainment; she wore a ball dress and +her badge as maid of honor. The youthful little Princess +Bolkonskaya, known as la femme la plus seduisante de Petersbourg,* was +also there. She had been married during the previous winter, and being +pregnant did not go to any large gatherings, but only to small +receptions. Prince Vasili's son, Hippolyte, had come with Mortemart, +whom he introduced. The Abbe Morio and many others had also come. + + +*The most fascinating woman in Petersburg. + + +To each new arrival Anna Pavlovna said, "You have not yet seen my +aunt," or "You do not know my aunt?" and very gravely conducted him or +her to a little old lady, wearing large bows of ribbon in her cap, who +had come sailing in from another room as soon as the guests began to +arrive; and slowly turning her eyes from the visitor to her aunt, Anna +Pavlovna mentioned each one's name and then left them. + +Each visitor performed the ceremony of greeting this old aunt whom +not one of them knew, not one of them wanted to know, and not one of +them cared about; Anna Pavlovna observed these greetings with mournful +and solemn interest and silent approval. The aunt spoke to each of +them in the same words, about their health and her own, and the health +of Her Majesty, "who, thank God, was better today." And each +visitor, though politeness prevented his showing impatience, left +the old woman with a sense of relief at having performed a vexatious +duty and did not return to her the whole evening. + +The young Princess Bolkonskaya had brought some work in a +gold-embroidered velvet bag. Her pretty little upper lip, on which a +delicate dark down was just perceptible, was too short for her +teeth, but it lifted all the more sweetly, and was especially charming +when she occasionally drew it down to meet the lower lip. As is always +the case with a thoroughly attractive woman, her defect--the shortness +of her upper lip and her half-open mouth--seemed to be her own special +and peculiar form of beauty. Everyone brightened at the sight of +this pretty young woman, so soon to become a mother, so full of life +and health, and carrying her burden so lightly. Old men and dull +dispirited young ones who looked at her, after being in her company +and talking to her a little while, felt as if they too were +becoming, like her, full of life and health. All who talked to her, +and at each word saw her bright smile and the constant gleam of her +white teeth, thought that they were in a specially amiable mood that +day. + +The little princess went round the table with quick, short, +swaying steps, her workbag on her arm, and gaily spreading out her +dress sat down on a sofa near the silver samovar, as if all she was +doing was a pleasure to herself and to all around her. "I have brought +my work," said she in French, displaying her bag and addressing all +present. "Mind, Annette, I hope you have not played a wicked trick +on me," she added, turning to her hostess. "You wrote that it was to +be quite a small reception, and just see how badly I am dressed." +And she spread out her arms to show her short-waisted, lace-trimmed, +dainty gray dress, girdled with a broad ribbon just below the breast. + +"Soyez tranquille, Lise, you will always be prettier than anyone +else," replied Anna Pavlovna. + +"You know," said the princess in the same tone of voice and still in +French, turning to a general, "my husband is deserting me? He is going +to get himself killed. Tell me what this wretched war is for?" she +added, addressing Prince Vasili, and without waiting for an answer she +turned to speak to his daughter, the beautiful Helene. + +"What a delightful woman this little princess is!" said Prince +Vasili to Anna Pavlovna. + +One of the next arrivals was a stout, heavily built young man with +close-cropped hair, spectacles, the light-colored breeches fashionable +at that time, a very high ruffle, and a brown dress coat. This stout +young man was an illegitimate son of Count Bezukhov, a well-known +grandee of Catherine's time who now lay dying in Moscow. The young man +had not yet entered either the military or civil service, as he had +only just returned from abroad where he had been educated, and this +was his first appearance in society. Anna Pavlovna greeted him with +the nod she accorded to the lowest hierarchy in her drawing room. +But in spite of this lowest-grade greeting, a look of anxiety and +fear, as at the sight of something too large and unsuited to the +place, came over her face when she saw Pierre enter. Though he was +certainly rather bigger than the other men in the room, her anxiety +could only have reference to the clever though shy, but observant +and natural, expression which distinguished him from everyone else +in that drawing room. + +"It is very good of you, Monsieur Pierre, to come and visit a poor +invalid," said Anna Pavlovna, exchanging an alarmed glance with her +aunt as she conducted him to her. + +Pierre murmured something unintelligible, and continued to look +round as if in search of something. On his way to the aunt he bowed to +the little princess with a pleased smile, as to an intimate +acquaintance. + +Anna Pavlovna's alarm was justified, for Pierre turned away from the +aunt without waiting to hear her speech about Her Majesty's health. +Anna Pavlovna in dismay detained him with the words: "Do you know +the Abbe Morio? He is a most interesting man." + +"Yes, I have heard of his scheme for perpetual peace, and it is very +interesting but hardly feasible." + +"You think so?" rejoined Anna Pavlovna in order to say something and +get away to attend to her duties as hostess. But Pierre now +committed a reverse act of impoliteness. First he had left a lady +before she had finished speaking to him, and now he continued to speak +to another who wished to get away. With his head bent, and his big +feet spread apart, he began explaining his reasons for thinking the +abbe's plan chimerical. + +"We will talk of it later," said Anna Pavlovna with a smile. + +And having got rid of this young man who did not know how to behave, +she resumed her duties as hostess and continued to listen and watch, +ready to help at any point where the conversation might happen to +flag. As the foreman of a spinning mill, when he has set the hands +to work, goes round and notices here a spindle that has stopped or +there one that creaks or makes more noise than it should, and +hastens to check the machine or set it in proper motion, so Anna +Pavlovna moved about her drawing room, approaching now a silent, now a +too-noisy group, and by a word or slight rearrangement kept the +conversational machine in steady, proper, and regular motion. But amid +these cares her anxiety about Pierre was evident. She kept an +anxious watch on him when he approached the group round Mortemart to +listen to what was being said there, and again when he passed to +another group whose center was the abbe. + +Pierre had been educated abroad, and this reception at Anna +Pavlovna's was the first he had attended in Russia. He knew that all +the intellectual lights of Petersburg were gathered there and, like +a child in a toyshop, did not know which way to look, afraid of +missing any clever conversation that was to be heard. Seeing the +self-confident and refined expression on the faces of those present he +was always expecting to hear something very profound. At last he +came up to Morio. Here the conversation seemed interesting and he +stood waiting for an opportunity to express his own views, as young +people are fond of doing. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Anna Pavlovna's reception was in full swing. The spindles hummed +steadily and ceaselessly on all sides. With the exception of the aunt, +beside whom sat only one elderly lady, who with her thin careworn face +was rather out of place in this brilliant society, the whole company +had settled into three groups. One, chiefly masculine, had formed +round the abbe. Another, of young people, was grouped round the +beautiful Princess Helene, Prince Vasili's daughter, and the little +Princess Bolkonskaya, very pretty and rosy, though rather too plump +for her age. The third group was gathered round Mortemart and Anna +Pavlovna. + +The vicomte was a nice-looking young man with soft features and +polished manners, who evidently considered himself a celebrity but out +of politeness modestly placed himself at the disposal of the circle in +which he found himself. Anna Pavlovna was obviously serving him up +as a treat to her guests. As a clever maitre d'hotel serves up as a +specially choice delicacy a piece of meat that no one who had seen +it in the kitchen would have cared to eat, so Anna Pavlovna served +up to her guests, first the vicomte and then the abbe, as peculiarly +choice morsels. The group about Mortemart immediately began discussing +the murder of the Duc d'Enghien. The vicomte said that the Duc +d'Enghien had perished by his own magnanimity, and that there were +particular reasons for Buonaparte's hatred of him. + +"Ah, yes! Do tell us all about it, Vicomte," said Anna Pavlovna, +with a pleasant feeling that there was something a la Louis XV in +the sound of that sentence: "Contez nous cela, Vicomte." + +The vicomte bowed and smiled courteously in token of his willingness +to comply. Anna Pavlovna arranged a group round him, inviting everyone +to listen to his tale. + +"The vicomte knew the duc personally," whispered Anna Pavlovna to of +the guests. "The vicomte is a wonderful raconteur," said she to +another. "How evidently he belongs to the best society," said she to a +third; and the vicomte was served up to the company in the choicest +and most advantageous style, like a well-garnished joint of roast beef +on a hot dish. + +The vicomte wished to begin his story and gave a subtle smile. + +"Come over here, Helene, dear," said Anna Pavlovna to the +beautiful young princess who was sitting some way off, the center of +another group. + +The princess smiled. She rose with the same unchanging smile with +which she had first entered the room--the smile of a perfectly +beautiful woman. With a slight rustle of her white dress trimmed +with moss and ivy, with a gleam of white shoulders, glossy hair, and +sparkling diamonds, she passed between the men who made way for her, +not looking at any of them but smiling on all, as if graciously +allowing each the privilege of admiring her beautiful figure and +shapely shoulders, back, and bosom--which in the fashion of those days +were very much exposed--and she seemed to bring the glamour of a +ballroom with her as she moved toward Anna Pavlovna. Helene was so +lovely that not only did she not show any trace of coquetry, but on +the contrary she even appeared shy of her unquestionable and all too +victorious beauty. She seemed to wish, but to be unable, to diminish +its effect. + +"How lovely!" said everyone who saw her; and the vicomte lifted +his shoulders and dropped his eyes as if startled by something +extraordinary when she took her seat opposite and beamed upon him also +with her unchanging smile. + +"Madame, I doubt my ability before such an audience," said he, +smilingly inclining his head. + +The princess rested her bare round arm on a little table and +considered a reply unnecessary. She smilingly waited. All the time the +story was being told she sat upright, glancing now at her beautiful +round arm, altered in shape by its pressure on the table, now at her +still more beautiful bosom, on which she readjusted a diamond +necklace. From time to time she smoothed the folds of her dress, and +whenever the story produced an effect she glanced at Anna Pavlovna, at +once adopted just the expression she saw on the maid of honor's +face, and again relapsed into her radiant smile. + +The little princess had also left the tea table and followed Helene. + +"Wait a moment, I'll get my work.... Now then, what are you thinking +of?" she went on, turning to Prince Hippolyte. "Fetch me my workbag." + +There was a general movement as the princess, smiling and talking +merrily to everyone at once, sat down and gaily arranged herself in +her seat. + +"Now I am all right," she said, and asking the vicomte to begin, she +took up her work. + +Prince Hippolyte, having brought the workbag, joined the circle +and moving a chair close to hers seated himself beside her. + +Le charmant Hippolyte was surprising by his extraordinary +resemblance to his beautiful sister, but yet more by the fact that +in spite of this resemblance he was exceedingly ugly. His features +were like his sister's, but while in her case everything was lit up by +a joyous, self-satisfied, youthful, and constant smile of animation, +and by the wonderful classic beauty of her figure, his face on the +contrary was dulled by imbecility and a constant expression of +sullen self-confidence, while his body was thin and weak. His eyes, +nose, and mouth all seemed puckered into a vacant, wearied grimace, +and his arms and legs always fell into unnatural positions. + +"It's not going to be a ghost story?" said he, sitting down beside +the princess and hastily adjusting his lorgnette, as if without this +instrument he could not begin to speak. + +"Why no, my dear fellow," said the astonished narrator, shrugging +his shoulders. + +"Because I hate ghost stories," said Prince Hippolyte in a tone +which showed that he only understood the meaning of his words after he +had uttered them. + +He spoke with such self-confidence that his hearers could not be +sure whether what he said was very witty or very stupid. He was +dressed in a dark-green dress coat, knee breeches of the color of +cuisse de nymphe effrayee, as he called it, shoes, and silk stockings. + +The vicomte told his tale very neatly. It was an anecdote, then +current, to the effect that the Duc d'Enghien had gone secretly to +Paris to visit Mademoiselle George; that at her house he came upon +Bonaparte, who also enjoyed the famous actress' favors, and that in +his presence Napoleon happened to fall into one of the fainting fits +to which he was subject, and was thus at the duc's mercy. The latter +spared him, and this magnanimity Bonaparte subsequently repaid by +death. + +The story was very pretty and interesting, especially at the point +where the rivals suddenly recognized one another; and the ladies +looked agitated. + +"Charming!" said Anna Pavlovna with an inquiring glance at the +little princess. + +"Charming!" whispered the little princess, sticking the needle +into her work as if to testify that the interest and fascination of +the story prevented her from going on with it. + +The vicomte appreciated this silent praise and smiling gratefully +prepared to continue, but just then Anna Pavlovna, who had kept a +watchful eye on the young man who so alarmed her, noticed that he +was talking too loudly and vehemently with the abbe, so she hurried to +the rescue. Pierre had managed to start a conversation with the abbe +about the balance of power, and the latter, evidently interested by +the young man's simple-minded eagerness, was explaining his pet +theory. Both were talking and listening too eagerly and too naturally, +which was why Anna Pavlovna disapproved. + +"The means are... the balance of power in Europe and the rights of +the people," the abbe was saying. "It is only necessary for one +powerful nation like Russia--barbaric as she is said to be--to place +herself disinterestedly at the head of an alliance having for its +object the maintenance of the balance of power of Europe, and it would +save the world!" + +"But how are you to get that balance?" Pierre was beginning. + +At that moment Anna Pavlovna came up and, looking severely at +Pierre, asked the Italian how he stood Russian climate. The +Italian's face instantly changed and assumed an offensively +affected, sugary expression, evidently habitual to him when conversing +with women. + +"I am so enchanted by the brilliancy of the wit and culture of the +society, more especially of the feminine society, in which I have +had the honor of being received, that I have not yet had time to think +of the climate," said he. + +Not letting the abbe and Pierre escape, Anna Pavlovna, the more +conveniently to keep them under observation, brought them into the +larger circle. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Just then another visitor entered the drawing room: Prince Andrew +Bolkonski, the little princess' husband. He was a very handsome +young man, of medium height, with firm, clearcut features. +Everything about him, from his weary, bored expression to his quiet, +measured step, offered a most striking contrast to his quiet, little +wife. It was evident that he not only knew everyone in the drawing +room, but had found them to be so tiresome that it wearied him to look +at or listen to them. And among all these faces that he found so +tedious, none seemed to bore him so much as that of his pretty wife. +He turned away from her with a grimace that distorted his handsome +face, kissed Anna Pavlovna's hand, and screwing up his eyes scanned +the whole company. + +"You are off to the war, Prince?" said Anna Pavlovna. + +"General Kutuzov," said Bolkonski, speaking French and stressing the +last syllable of the general's name like a Frenchman, "has been +pleased to take me as an aide-de-camp...." + +"And Lise, your wife?" + +"She will go to the country." + +"Are you not ashamed to deprive us of your charming wife?" + +"Andre," said his wife, addressing her husband in the same +coquettish manner in which she spoke to other men, "the vicomte has +been telling us such a tale about Mademoiselle George and Buonaparte!" + +Prince Andrew screwed up his eyes and turned away. Pierre, who +from the moment Prince Andrew entered the room had watched him with +glad, affectionate eyes, now came up and took his arm. Before he +looked round Prince Andrew frowned again, expressing his annoyance +with whoever was touching his arm, but when he saw Pierre's beaming +face he gave him an unexpectedly kind and pleasant smile. + +"There now!... So you, too, are in the great world?" said he to +Pierre. + +"I knew you would be here," replied Pierre. "I will come to supper +with you. May I?" he added in a low voice so as not to disturb the +vicomte who was continuing his story. + +"No, impossible!" said Prince Andrew, laughing and pressing Pierre's +hand to show that there was no need to ask the question. He wished +to say something more, but at that moment Prince Vasili and his +daughter got up to go and the two young men rose to let them pass. + +"You must excuse me, dear Vicomte," said Prince Vasili to the +Frenchman, holding him down by the sleeve in a friendly way to prevent +his rising. "This unfortunate fete at the ambassador's deprives me +of a pleasure, and obliges me to interrupt you. I am very sorry to +leave your enchanting party," said he, turning to Anna Pavlovna. + +His daughter, Princess Helene, passed between the chairs, lightly +holding up the folds of her dress, and the smile shone still more +radiantly on her beautiful face. Pierre gazed at her with rapturous, +almost frightened, eyes as she passed him. + +"Very lovely," said Prince Andrew. + +"Very," said Pierre. + +In passing Prince Vasili seized Pierre's hand and said to Anna +Pavlovna: "Educate this bear for me! He has been staying with me a +whole month and this is the first time I have seen him in society. +Nothing is so necessary for a young man as the society of clever +women." + + +Anna Pavlovna smiled and promised to take Pierre in hand. She knew +his father to be a connection of Prince Vasili's. The elderly lady who +had been sitting with the old aunt rose hurriedly and overtook +Prince Vasili in the anteroom. All the affectation of interest she had +assumed had left her kindly and tearworn face and it now expressed +only anxiety and fear. + +"How about my son Boris, Prince?" said she, hurrying after him +into the anteroom. "I can't remain any longer in Petersburg. Tell me +what news I may take back to my poor boy." + +Although Prince Vasili listened reluctantly and not very politely to +the elderly lady, even betraying some impatience, she gave him an +ingratiating and appealing smile, and took his hand that he might +not go away. + +"What would it cost you to say a word to the Emperor, and then he +would be transferred to the Guards at once?" said she. + +"Believe me, Princess, I am ready to do all I can," answered +Prince Vasili, "but it is difficult for me to ask the Emperor. I +should advise you to appeal to Rumyantsev through Prince Golitsyn. +That would be the best way." + +The elderly lady was a Princess Drubetskaya, belonging to one of the +best families in Russia, but she was poor, and having long been out of +society had lost her former influential connections. She had now +come to Petersburg to procure an appointment in the Guards for her +only son. It was, in fact, solely to meet Prince Vasili that she had +obtained an invitation to Anna Pavlovna's reception and had sat +listening to the vicomte's story. Prince Vasili's words frightened +her, an embittered look clouded her once handsome face, but only for a +moment; then she smiled again and clutched Prince Vasili's arm more +tightly. + +"Listen to me, Prince," said she. "I have never yet asked you for +anything and I never will again, nor have I ever reminded you of my +father's friendship for you; but now I entreat you for God's sake to +do this for my son--and I shall always regard you as a benefactor," +she added hurriedly. "No, don't be angry, but promise! I have asked +Golitsyn and he has refused. Be the kindhearted man you always +were," she said, trying to smile though tears were in her eyes. + +"Papa, we shall be late," said Princess Helene, turning her +beautiful head and looking over her classically molded shoulder as she +stood waiting by the door. + +Influence in society, however, is a capital which has to be +economized if it is to last. Prince Vasili knew this, and having +once realized that if he asked on behalf of all who begged of him, +he would soon be unable to ask for himself, he became chary of using +his influence. But in Princess Drubetskaya's case he felt, after her +second appeal, something like qualms of conscience. She had reminded +him of what was quite true; he had been indebted to her father for the +first steps in his career. Moreover, he could see by her manners +that she was one of those women--mostly mothers--who, having once made +up their minds, will not rest until they have gained their end, and +are prepared if necessary to go on insisting day after day and hour +after hour, and even to make scenes. This last consideration moved +him. + +"My dear Anna Mikhaylovna," said he with his usual familiarity and +weariness of tone, "it is almost impossible for me to do what you ask; +but to prove my devotion to you and how I respect your father's +memory, I will do the impossible--your son shall be transferred to the +Guards. Here is my hand on it. Are you satisfied?" + +"My dear benefactor! This is what I expected from you--I knew your +kindness!" He turned to go. + +"Wait--just a word! When he has been transferred to the Guards..." +she faltered. "You are on good terms with Michael Ilarionovich +Kutuzov... recommend Boris to him as adjutant! Then I shall be at +rest, and then..." + +Prince Vasili smiled. + +"No, I won't promise that. You don't know how Kutuzov is pestered +since his appointment as Commander in Chief. He told me himself that +all the Moscow ladies have conspired to give him all their sons as +adjutants." + +"No, but do promise! I won't let you go! My dear benefactor..." + +"Papa," said his beautiful daughter in the same tone as before, +"we shall be late." + +"Well, au revoir! Good-by! You hear her?" + +"Then tomorrow you will speak to the Emperor?" + +"Certainly; but about Kutuzov, I don't promise." + +"Do promise, do promise, Vasili!" cried Anna Mikhaylovna as he went, +with the smile of a coquettish girl, which at one time probably came +naturally to her, but was now very ill-suited to her careworn face. + +Apparently she had forgotten her age and by force of habit +employed all the old feminine arts. But as soon as the prince had gone +her face resumed its former cold, artificial expression. She +returned to the group where the vicomte was still talking, and again +pretended to listen, while waiting till it would be time to leave. Her +task was accomplished. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +"And what do you think of this latest comedy, the coronation at +Milan?" asked Anna Pavlovna, "and of the comedy of the people of Genoa +and Lucca laying their petitions before Monsieur Buonaparte, and +Monsieur Buonaparte sitting on a throne and granting the petitions +of the nations? Adorable! It is enough to make one's head whirl! It is +as if the whole world had gone crazy." + +Prince Andrew looked Anna Pavlovna straight in the face with a +sarcastic smile. + +"'Dieu me la donne, gare a qui la touche!'* They say he was very +fine when he said that," he remarked, repeating the words in +Italian: "'Dio mi l'ha dato. Guai a chi la tocchi!'" + + +*God has given it to me, let him who touches it beware! + + +"I hope this will prove the last drop that will make the glass run +over," Anna Pavlovna continued. "The sovereigns will not be able to +endure this man who is a menace to everything." + +"The sovereigns? I do not speak of Russia," said the vicomte, polite +but hopeless: "The sovereigns, madame... What have they done for Louis +XVII, for the Queen, or for Madame Elizabeth? Nothing!" and he +became more animated. "And believe me, they are reaping the reward +of their betrayal of the Bourbon cause. The sovereigns! Why, they +are sending ambassadors to compliment the usurper." + +And sighing disdainfully, he again changed his position. + +Prince Hippolyte, who had been gazing at the vicomte for some time +through his lorgnette, suddenly turned completely round toward the +little princess, and having asked for a needle began tracing the Conde +coat of arms on the table. He explained this to her with as much +gravity as if she had asked him to do it. + +"Baton de gueules, engrele de gueules d' azur--maison Conde," said +he. + +The princess listened, smiling. + +"If Buonaparte remains on the throne of France a year longer," the +vicomte continued, with the air of a man who, in a matter with which +he is better acquainted than anyone else, does not listen to others +but follows the current of his own thoughts, "things will have gone +too far. By intrigues, violence, exile, and executions, French +society--I mean good French society--will have been forever destroyed, +and then..." + +He shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands. Pierre wished to +make a remark, for the conversation interested him, but Anna Pavlovna, +who had him under observation, interrupted: + +"The Emperor Alexander," said she, with the melancholy which +always accompanied any reference of hers to the Imperial family, +"has declared that he will leave it to the French people themselves to +choose their own form of government; and I believe that once free from +the usurper, the whole nation will certainly throw itself into the +arms of its rightful king," she concluded, trying to be amiable to the +royalist emigrant. + +"That is doubtful," said Prince Andrew. "Monsieur le Vicomte quite +rightly supposes that matters have already gone too far. I think it +will be difficult to return to the old regime." + +"From what I have heard," said Pierre, blushing and breaking into +the conversation, "almost all the aristocracy has already gone over to +Bonaparte's side." + +"It is the Buonapartists who say that," replied the vicomte +without looking at Pierre. "At the present time it is difficult to +know the real state of French public opinion." + +"Bonaparte has said so," remarked Prince Andrew with a sarcastic +smile. + +It was evident that he did not like the vicomte and was aiming his +remarks at him, though without looking at him. + +"'I showed them the path to glory, but they did not follow it,'" +Prince Andrew continued after a short silence, again quoting +Napoleon's words. "'I opened my antechambers and they crowded in.' I +do not know how far he was justified in saying so." + +"Not in the least," replied the vicomte. "After the murder of the +duc even the most partial ceased to regard him as a hero. If to some +people," he went on, turning to Anna Pavlovna, "he ever was a hero, +after the murder of the duc there was one martyr more in heaven and +one hero less on earth." + +Before Anna Pavlovna and the others had time to smile their +appreciation of the vicomte's epigram, Pierre again broke into the +conversation, and though Anna Pavlovna felt sure he would say +something inappropriate, she was unable to stop him. + +"The execution of the Duc d'Enghien," declared Monsieur Pierre, "was +a political necessity, and it seems to me that Napoleon showed +greatness of soul by not fearing to take on himself the whole +responsibility of that deed." + +"Dieu! Mon Dieu!" muttered Anna Pavlovna in a terrified whisper. + +"What, Monsieur Pierre... Do you consider that assassination shows +greatness of soul?" said the little princess, smiling and drawing +her work nearer to her. + +"Oh! Oh!" exclaimed several voices. + +"Capital!" said Prince Hippolyte in English, and began slapping +his knee with the palm of his hand. + +The vicomte merely shrugged his shoulders. Pierre looked solemnly at +his audience over his spectacles and continued. + +"I say so," he continued desperately, "because the Bourbons fled +from the Revolution leaving the people to anarchy, and Napoleon +alone understood the Revolution and quelled it, and so for the general +good, he could not stop short for the sake of one man's life." + +"Won't you come over to the other table?" suggested Anna Pavlovna. + +But Pierre continued his speech without heeding her. + +"No," cried he, becoming more and more eager, "Napoleon is great +because he rose superior to the Revolution, suppressed its abuses, +preserved all that was good in it--equality of citizenship and freedom +of speech and of the press--and only for that reason did he obtain +power." + +"Yes, if having obtained power, without availing himself of it to +commit murder he had restored it to the rightful king, I should have +called him a great man," remarked the vicomte. + +"He could not do that. The people only gave him power that he +might rid them of the Bourbons and because they saw that he was a +great man. The Revolution was a grand thing!" continued Monsieur +Pierre, betraying by this desperate and provocative proposition his +extreme youth and his wish to express all that was in his mind. + +"What? Revolution and regicide a grand thing?... Well, after that... +But won't you come to this other table?" repeated Anna Pavlovna. + +"Rousseau's Contrat social," said the vicomte with a tolerant smile. + +"I am not speaking of regicide, I am speaking about ideas." + +"Yes: ideas of robbery, murder, and regicide," again interjected +an ironical voice. + +"Those were extremes, no doubt, but they are not what is most +important. What is important are the rights of man, emancipation +from prejudices, and equality of citizenship, and all these ideas +Napoleon has retained in full force." + +"Liberty and equality," said the vicomte contemptuously, as if at +last deciding seriously to prove to this youth how foolish his words +were, "high-sounding words which have long been discredited. Who +does not love liberty and equality? Even our Saviour preached +liberty and equality. Have people since the Revolution become happier? +On the contrary. We wanted liberty, but Buonaparte has destroyed it." + +Prince Andrew kept looking with an amused smile from Pierre to the +vicomte and from the vicomte to their hostess. In the first moment +of Pierre's outburst Anna Pavlovna, despite her social experience, was +horror-struck. But when she saw that Pierre's sacrilegious words had +not exasperated the vicomte, and had convinced herself that it was +impossible to stop him, she rallied her forces and joined the +vicomte in a vigorous attack on the orator. + +"But, my dear Monsieur Pierre," said she, "how do you explain the +fact of a great man executing a duc--or even an ordinary man who--is +innocent and untried?" + +"I should like," said the vicomte, "to ask how monsieur explains the +18th Brumaire; was not that an imposture? It was a swindle, and not at +all like the conduct of a great man!" + +"And the prisoners he killed in Africa? That was horrible!" said the +little princess, shrugging her shoulders. + +"He's a low fellow, say what you will," remarked Prince Hippolyte. + +Pierre, not knowing whom to answer, looked at them all and smiled. +His smile was unlike the half-smile of other people. When he smiled, +his grave, even rather gloomy, look was instantaneously replaced by +another--a childlike, kindly, even rather silly look, which seemed +to ask forgiveness. + +The vicomte who was meeting him for the first time saw clearly +that this young Jacobin was not so terrible as his words suggested. +All were silent. + +"How do you expect him to answer you all at once?" said Prince +Andrew. "Besides, in the actions of a statesman one has to distinguish +between his acts as a private person, as a general, and as an emperor. +So it seems to me." + +"Yes, yes, of course!" Pierre chimed in, pleased at the arrival of +this reinforcement. + +"One must admit," continued Prince Andrew, "that Napoleon as a man +was great on the bridge of Arcola, and in the hospital at Jaffa +where he gave his hand to the plague-stricken; but... but there are +other acts which it is difficult to justify." + +Prince Andrew, who had evidently wished to tone down the awkwardness +of Pierre's remarks, rose and made a sign to his wife that it was time +to go. + + +Suddenly Prince Hippolyte started up making signs to everyone to +attend, and asking them all to be seated began: + +"I was told a charming Moscow story today and must treat you to +it. Excuse me, Vicomte--I must tell it in Russian or the point will be +lost...." And Prince Hippolyte began to tell his story in such Russian +as a Frenchman would speak after spending about a year in Russia. +Everyone waited, so emphatically and eagerly did he demand their +attention to his story. + +"There is in Moscow a lady, une dame, and she is very stingy. She +must have two footmen behind her carriage, and very big ones. That was +her taste. And she had a lady's maid, also big. She said..." + +Here Prince Hippolyte paused, evidently collecting his ideas with +difficulty. + +"She said... Oh yes! She said, 'Girl,' to the maid, 'put on a +livery, get up behind the carriage, and come with me while I make some +calls.'" + +Here Prince Hippolyte spluttered and burst out laughing long +before his audience, which produced an effect unfavorable to the +narrator. Several persons, among them the elderly lady and Anna +Pavlovna, did however smile. + +"She went. Suddenly there was a great wind. The girl lost her hat +and her long hair came down...." Here he could contain himself no +longer and went on, between gasps of laughter: "And the whole world +knew...." + +And so the anecdote ended. Though it was unintelligible why he had +told it, or why it had to be told in Russian, still Anna Pavlovna +and the others appreciated Prince Hippolyte's social tact in so +agreeably ending Pierre's unpleasant and unamiable outburst. After the +anecdote the conversation broke up into insignificant small talk about +the last and next balls, about theatricals, and who would meet whom, +and when and where. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Having thanked Anna Pavlovna for her charming soiree, the guests +began to take their leave. + +Pierre was ungainly. Stout, about the average height, broad, with +huge red hands; he did not know, as the saying is, how to enter a +drawing room and still less how to leave one; that is, how to say +something particularly agreeable before going away. Besides this he +was absent-minded. When he rose to go, he took up instead of his +own, the general's three-cornered hat, and held it, pulling at the +plume, till the general asked him to restore it. All his +absent-mindedness and inability to enter a room and converse in it +was, however, redeemed by his kindly, simple, and modest expression. +Anna Pavlovna turned toward him and, with a Christian mildness that +expressed forgiveness of his indiscretion, nodded and said: "I hope to +see you again, but I also hope you will change your opinions, my +dear Monsieur Pierre." + +When she said this, he did not reply and only bowed, but again +everybody saw his smile, which said nothing, unless perhaps, "Opinions +are opinions, but you see what a capital, good-natured fellow I am." +And everyone, including Anna Pavlovna, felt this. + +Prince Andrew had gone out into the hall, and, turning his shoulders +to the footman who was helping him on with his cloak, listened +indifferently to his wife's chatter with Prince Hippolyte who had also +come into the hall. Prince Hippolyte stood close to the pretty, +pregnant princess, and stared fixedly at her through his eyeglass. + +"Go in, Annette, or you will catch cold," said the little +princess, taking leave of Anna Pavlovna. "It is settled," she added in +a low voice. + +Anna Pavlovna had already managed to speak to Lise about the match +she contemplated between Anatole and the little princess' +sister-in-law. + +"I rely on you, my dear," said Anna Pavlovna, also in a low tone. +"Write to her and let me know how her father looks at the matter. Au +revoir!"--and she left the hall. + +Prince Hippolyte approached the little princess and, bending his +face close to her, began to whisper something. + +Two footmen, the princess' and his own, stood holding a shawl and +a cloak, waiting for the conversation to finish. They listened to +the French sentences which to them were meaningless, with an air of +understanding but not wishing to appear to do so. The princess as +usual spoke smilingly and listened with a laugh. + +"I am very glad I did not go to the ambassador's," said Prince +Hippolyte "-so dull-. It has been a delightful evening, has it not? +Delightful!" + +"They say the ball will be very good," replied the princess, drawing +up her downy little lip. "All the pretty women in society will be +there." + +"Not all, for you will not be there; not all," said Prince Hippolyte +smiling joyfully; and snatching the shawl from the footman, whom he +even pushed aside, he began wrapping it round the princess. Either +from awkwardness or intentionally (no one could have said which) after +the shawl had been adjusted he kept his arm around her for a long +time, as though embracing her. + +Still smiling, she gracefully moved away, turning and glancing at +her husband. Prince Andrew's eyes were closed, so weary and sleepy did +he seem. + +"Are you ready?" he asked his wife, looking past her. + +Prince Hippolyte hurriedly put on his cloak, which in the latest +fashion reached to his very heels, and, stumbling in it, ran out +into the porch following the princess, whom a footman was helping into +the carriage. + +"Princesse, au revoir," cried he, stumbling with his tongue as +well as with his feet. + +The princess, picking up her dress, was taking her seat in the +dark carriage, her husband was adjusting his saber; Prince +Hippolyte, under pretense of helping, was in everyone's way. + +"Allow me, sir," said Prince Andrew in Russian in a cold, +disagreeable tone to Prince Hippolyte who was blocking his path. + +"I am expecting you, Pierre," said the same voice, but gently and +affectionately. + +The postilion started, the carriage wheels rattled. Prince Hippolyte +laughed spasmodically as he stood in the porch waiting for the vicomte +whom he had promised to take home. + +"Well, mon cher," said the vicomte, having seated himself beside +Hippolyte in the carriage, "your little princess is very nice, very +nice indeed, quite French," and he kissed the tips of his fingers. +Hippolyte burst out laughing. + +"Do you know, you are a terrible chap for all your innocent airs," +continued the vicomte. "I pity the poor husband, that little officer +who gives himself the airs of a monarch." + +Hippolyte spluttered again, and amid his laughter said, "And you +were saying that the Russian ladies are not equal to the French? One +has to know how to deal with them." + + +Pierre reaching the house first went into Prince Andrew's study like +one quite at home, and from habit immediately lay down on the sofa, +took from the shelf the first book that came to his hand (it was +Caesar's Commentaries), and resting on his elbow, began reading it +in the middle. + +"What have you done to Mlle Scherer? She will be quite ill now," +said Prince Andrew, as he entered the study, rubbing his small white +hands. + +Pierre turned his whole body, making the sofa creak. He lifted his +eager face to Prince Andrew, smiled, and waved his hand. + +"That abbe is very interesting but he does not see the thing in +the right light.... In my opinion perpetual peace is possible but--I +do not know how to express it... not by a balance of political +power...." + +It was evident that Prince Andrew was not interested in such +abstract conversation. + +"One can't everywhere say all one thinks, mon cher. Well, have you +at last decided on anything? Are you going to be a guardsman or a +diplomatist?" asked Prince Andrew after a momentary silence. + +Pierre sat up on the sofa, with his legs tucked under him. + +"Really, I don't yet know. I don't like either the one or the +other." + +"But you must decide on something! Your father expects it." + +Pierre at the age of ten had been sent abroad with an abbe as tutor, +and had remained away till he was twenty. When he returned to Moscow +his father dismissed the abbe and said to the young man, "Now go to +Petersburg, look round, and choose your profession. I will agree to +anything. Here is a letter to Prince Vasili, and here is money. +Write to me all about it, and I will help you in everything." Pierre +had already been choosing a career for three months, and had not +decided on anything. It was about this choice that Prince Andrew was +speaking. Pierre rubbed his forehead. + +"But he must be a Freemason," said he, referring to the abbe whom he +had met that evening. + +"That is all nonsense." Prince Andrew again interrupted him, "let us +talk business. Have you been to the Horse Guards?" + +"No, I have not; but this is what I have been thinking and wanted to +tell you. There is a war now against Napoleon. If it were a war for +freedom I could understand it and should be the first to enter the +army; but to help England and Austria against the greatest man in +the world is not right." + +Prince Andrew only shrugged his shoulders at Pierre's childish +words. He put on the air of one who finds it impossible to reply to +such nonsense, but it would in fact have been difficult to give any +other answer than the one Prince Andrew gave to this naive question. + +"If no one fought except on his own conviction, there would be no +wars," he said. + +"And that would be splendid," said Pierre. + +Prince Andrew smiled ironically. + +"Very likely it would be splendid, but it will never come about..." + +"Well, why are you going to the war?" asked Pierre. + +"What for? I don't know. I must. Besides that I am going..." He +paused. "I am going because the life I am leading here does not suit +me!" + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The rustle of a woman's dress was heard in the next room. Prince +Andrew shook himself as if waking up, and his face assumed the look it +had had in Anna Pavlovna's drawing room. Pierre removed his feet +from the sofa. The princess came in. She had changed her gown for a +house dress as fresh and elegant as the other. Prince Andrew rose +and politely placed a chair for her. + +"How is it," she began, as usual in French, settling down briskly +and fussily in the easy chair, "how is it Annette never got married? +How stupid you men all are not to have married her! Excuse me for +saying so, but you have no sense about women. What an argumentative +fellow you are, Monsieur Pierre!" + +"And I am still arguing with your husband. I can't understand why he +wants to go to the war," replied Pierre, addressing the princess +with none of the embarrassment so commonly shown by young men in their +intercourse with young women. + +The princess started. Evidently Pierre's words touched her to the +quick. + +"Ah, that is just what I tell him!" said she. "I don't understand +it; I don't in the least understand why men can't live without wars. +How is it that we women don't want anything of the kind, don't need +it? Now you shall judge between us. I always tell him: Here he is +Uncle's aide-de-camp, a most brilliant position. He is so well +known, so much appreciated by everyone. The other day at the +Apraksins' I heard a lady asking, 'Is that the famous Prince +Andrew?' I did indeed." She laughed. "He is so well received +everywhere. He might easily become aide-de-camp to the Emperor. You +know the Emperor spoke to him most graciously. Annette and I were +speaking of how to arrange it. What do you think?" + +Pierre looked at his friend and, noticing that he did not like the +conversation, gave no reply. + +"When are you starting?" he asked. + +"Oh, don't speak of his going, don't! I won't hear it spoken of," +said the princess in the same petulantly playful tone in which she had +spoken to Hippolyte in the drawing room and which was so plainly +ill-suited to the family circle of which Pierre was almost a member. +"Today when I remembered that all these delightful associations must +be broken off... and then you know, Andre..." (she looked +significantly at her husband) "I'm afraid, I'm afraid!" she whispered, +and a shudder ran down her back. + +Her husband looked at her as if surprised to notice that someone +besides Pierre and himself was in the room, and addressed her in a +tone of frigid politeness. + +"What is it you are afraid of, Lise? I don't understand," said he. + +"There, what egotists men all are: all, all egotists! Just for a +whim of his own, goodness only knows why, he leaves me and locks me up +alone in the country." + +"With my father and sister, remember," said Prince Andrew gently. + +"Alone all the same, without my friends.... And he expects me not to +be afraid." + +Her tone was now querulous and her lip drawn up, giving her not a +joyful, but an animal, squirrel-like expression. She paused as if +she felt it indecorous to speak of her pregnancy before Pierre, though +the gist of the matter lay in that. + +"I still can't understand what you are afraid of," said Prince +Andrew slowly, not taking his eyes off his wife. + +The princess blushed, and raised her arms with a gesture of despair. + +"No, Andrew, I must say you have changed. Oh, how you have..." + +"Your doctor tells you to go to bed earlier," said Prince Andrew. +"You had better go." + +The princess said nothing, but suddenly her short downy lip +quivered. Prince Andrew rose, shrugged his shoulders, and walked about +the room. + +Pierre looked over his spectacles with naive surprise, now at him +and now at her, moved as if about to rise too, but changed his mind. + +"Why should I mind Monsieur Pierre being here?" exclaimed the little +princess suddenly, her pretty face all at once distorted by a +tearful grimace. "I have long wanted to ask you, Andrew, why you +have changed so to me? What have I done to you? You are going to the +war and have no pity for me. Why is it?" + +"Lise!" was all Prince Andrew said. But that one word expressed an +entreaty, a threat, and above all conviction that she would herself +regret her words. But she went on hurriedly: + +"You treat me like an invalid or a child. I see it all! Did you +behave like that six months ago?" + +"Lise, I beg you to desist," said Prince Andrew still more +emphatically. + +Pierre, who had been growing more and more agitated as he listened +to all this, rose and approached the princess. He seemed unable to +bear the sight of tears and was ready to cry himself. + +"Calm yourself, Princess! It seems so to you because... I assure you +I myself have experienced... and so... because... No, excuse me! An +outsider is out of place here... No, don't distress yourself... +Good-by!" + +Prince Andrew caught him by the hand. + +"No, wait, Pierre! The princess is too kind to wish to deprive me of +the pleasure of spending the evening with you." + +"No, he thinks only of himself," muttered the princess without +restraining her angry tears. + +"Lise!" said Prince Andrew dryly, raising his voice to the pitch +which indicates that patience is exhausted. + +Suddenly the angry, squirrel-like expression of the princess' pretty +face changed into a winning and piteous look of fear. Her beautiful +eyes glanced askance at her husband's face, and her own assumed the +timid, deprecating expression of a dog when it rapidly but feebly wags +its drooping tail. + +"Mon Dieu, mon Dieu!" she muttered, and lifting her dress with one +hand she went up to her husband and kissed him on the forehead. + +"Good night, Lise," said he, rising and courteously kissing her hand +as he would have done to a stranger. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The friends were silent. Neither cared to begin talking. Pierre +continually glanced at Prince Andrew; Prince Andrew rubbed his +forehead with his small hand. + +"Let us go and have supper," he said with a sigh, going to the door. + +They entered the elegant, newly decorated, and luxurious dining +room. Everything from the table napkins to the silver, china, and +glass bore that imprint of newness found in the households of the +newly married. Halfway through supper Prince Andrew leaned his +elbows on the table and, with a look of nervous agitation such as +Pierre had never before seen on his face, began to talk--as one who +has long had something on his mind and suddenly determines to speak +out. + +"Never, never marry, my dear fellow! That's my advice: never marry +till you can say to yourself that you have done all you are capable +of, and until you have ceased to love the woman of your choice and +have seen her plainly as she is, or else you will make a cruel and +irrevocable mistake. Marry when you are old and good for nothing--or +all that is good and noble in you will be lost. It will all be +wasted on trifles. Yes! Yes! Yes! Don't look at me with such surprise. +If you marry expecting anything from yourself in the future, you +will feel at every step that for you all is ended, all is closed +except the drawing room, where you will be ranged side by side with +a court lackey and an idiot!... But what's the good?..." and he +waved his arm. + +Pierre took off his spectacles, which made his face seem different +and the good-natured expression still more apparent, and gazed at +his friend in amazement. + +"My wife," continued Prince Andrew, "is an excellent woman, one of +those rare women with whom a man's honor is safe; but, O God, what +would I not give now to be unmarried! You are the first and only one +to whom I mention this, because I like you." + +As he said this Prince Andrew was less than ever like that Bolkonski +who had lolled in Anna Pavlovna's easy chairs and with half-closed +eyes had uttered French phrases between his teeth. Every muscle of his +thin face was now quivering with nervous excitement; his eyes, in +which the fire of life had seemed extinguished, now flashed with +brilliant light. It was evident that the more lifeless he seemed at +ordinary times, the more impassioned he became in these moments of +almost morbid irritation. + +"You don't understand why I say this," he continued, "but it is +the whole story of life. You talk of Bonaparte and his career," said +he (though Pierre had not mentioned Bonaparte), "but Bonaparte when he +worked went step by step toward his goal. He was free, he had +nothing but his aim to consider, and he reached it. But tie yourself +up with a woman and, like a chained convict, you lose all freedom! And +all you have of hope and strength merely weighs you down and +torments you with regret. Drawing rooms, gossip, balls, vanity, and +triviality--these are the enchanted circle I cannot escape from. I +am now going to the war, the greatest war there ever was, and I know +nothing and am fit for nothing. I am very amiable and have a caustic +wit," continued Prince Andrew, "and at Anna Pavlovna's they listen +to me. And that stupid set without whom my wife cannot exist, and +those women... If you only knew what those society women are, and +women in general! My father is right. Selfish, vain, stupid, trivial +in everything--that's what women are when you see them in their true +colors! When you meet them in society it seems as if there were +something in them, but there's nothing, nothing, nothing! No, don't +marry, my dear fellow; don't marry!" concluded Prince Andrew. + +"It seems funny to me," said Pierre, "that you, you should +consider yourself incapable and your life a spoiled life. You have +everything before you, everything. And you..." + +He did not finish his sentence, but his tone showed how highly he +thought of his friend and how much he expected of him in the future. + +"How can he talk like that?" thought Pierre. He considered his +friend a model of perfection because Prince Andrew possessed in the +highest degree just the very qualities Pierre lacked, and which +might be best described as strength of will. Pierre was always +astonished at Prince Andrew's calm manner of treating everybody, his +extraordinary memory, his extensive reading (he had read everything, +knew everything, and had an opinion about everything), but above all +at his capacity for work and study. And if Pierre was often struck +by Andrew's lack of capacity for philosophical meditation (to which he +himself was particularly addicted), he regarded even this not as a +defect but as a sign of strength. + +Even in the best, most friendly and simplest relations of life, +praise and commendation are essential, just as grease is necessary +to wheels that they may run smoothly. + +"My part is played out," said Prince Andrew. "What's the use of +talking about me? Let us talk about you," he added after a silence, +smiling at his reassuring thoughts. + +That smile was immediately reflected on Pierre's face. + +"But what is there to say about me?" said Pierre, his face +relaxing into a careless, merry smile. "What am I? An illegitimate +son!" He suddenly blushed crimson, and it was plain that he had made a +great effort to say this. "Without a name and without means... And +it really..." But he did not say what "it really" was. "For the +present I am free and am all right. Only I haven't the least idea what +I am to do; I wanted to consult you seriously." + +Prince Andrew looked kindly at him, yet his glance--friendly and +affectionate as it was--expressed a sense of his own superiority. + +"I am fond of you, especially as you are the one live man among +our whole set. Yes, you're all right! Choose what you will; it's all +the same. You'll be all right anywhere. But look here: give up +visiting those Kuragins and leading that sort of life. It suits you so +badly--all this debauchery, dissipation, and the rest of it!" + +"What would you have, my dear fellow?" answered Pierre, shrugging +his shoulders. "Women, my dear fellow; women!" + +"I don't understand it," replied Prince Andrew. "Women who are comme +il faut, that's a different matter; but the Kuragins' set of women, +'women and wine' I don't understand!" + +Pierre was staying at Prince Vasili Kuragin's and sharing the +dissipated life of his son Anatole, the son whom they were planning to +reform by marrying him to Prince Andrew's sister. + +"Do you know?" said Pierre, as if suddenly struck by a happy +thought, "seriously, I have long been thinking of it.... Leading +such a life I can't decide or think properly about anything. One's +head aches, and one spends all one's money. He asked me for tonight, +but I won't go." + +"You give me your word of honor not to go?" + +"On my honor!" + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +It was past one o'clock when Pierre left his friend. It was a +cloudless, northern, summer night. Pierre took an open cab intending +to drive straight home. But the nearer he drew to the house the more +he felt the impossibility of going to sleep on such a night. It was +light enough to see a long way in the deserted street and it seemed +more like morning or evening than night. On the way Pierre +remembered that Anatole Kuragin was expecting the usual set for +cards that evening, after which there was generally a drinking bout, +finishing with visits of a kind Pierre was very fond of. + +"I should like to go to Kuragin's," thought he. + +But he immediately recalled his promise to Prince Andrew not to go +there. Then, as happens to people of weak character, he desired so +passionately once more to enjoy that dissipation he was so +accustomed to that he decided to go. The thought immediately +occurred to him that his promise to Prince Andrew was of no account, +because before he gave it he had already promised Prince Anatole to +come to his gathering; "besides," thought he, "all such 'words of +honor' are conventional things with no definite meaning, especially if +one considers that by tomorrow one may be dead, or something so +extraordinary may happen to one that honor and dishonor will be all +the same!" Pierre often indulged in reflections of this sort, +nullifying all his decisions and intentions. He went to Kuragin's. + +Reaching the large house near the Horse Guards' barracks, in which +Anatole lived, Pierre entered the lighted porch, ascended the +stairs, and went in at the open door. There was no one in the +anteroom; empty bottles, cloaks, and overshoes were lying about; there +was a smell of alcohol, and sounds of voices and shouting in the +distance. + +Cards and supper were over, but the visitors had not yet +dispersed. Pierre threw off his cloak and entered the first room, in +which were the remains of supper. A footman, thinking no one saw +him, was drinking on the sly what was left in the glasses. From the +third room came sounds of laughter, the shouting of familiar voices, +the growling of a bear, and general commotion. Some eight or nine +young men were crowding anxiously round an open window. Three others +were romping with a young bear, one pulling him by the chain and +trying to set him at the others. + +"I bet a hundred on Stevens!" shouted one. + +"Mind, no holding on!" cried another. + +"I bet on Dolokhov!" cried a third. "Kuragin, you part our hands." + +"There, leave Bruin alone; here's a bet on." + +"At one draught, or he loses!" shouted a fourth. + +"Jacob, bring a bottle!" shouted the host, a tall, handsome fellow +who stood in the midst of the group, without a coat, and with his fine +linen shirt unfastened in front. "Wait a bit, you fellows.... Here +is Petya! Good man!" cried he, addressing Pierre. + +Another voice, from a man of medium height with clear blue eyes, +particularly striking among all these drunken voices by its sober +ring, cried from the window: "Come here; part the bets!" This was +Dolokhov, an officer of the Semenov regiment, a notorious gambler +and duelist, who was living with Anatole. Pierre smiled, looking about +him merrily. + +"I don't understand. What's it all about?" + +"Wait a bit, he is not drunk yet! A bottle here," said Anatole, +taking a glass from the table he went up to Pierre. + +"First of all you must drink!" + +Pierre drank one glass after another, looking from under his brows +at the tipsy guests who were again crowding round the window, and +listening to their chatter. Anatole kept on refilling Pierre's glass +while explaining that Dolokhov was betting with Stevens, an English +naval officer, that he would drink a bottle of rum sitting on the +outer ledge of the third floor window with his legs hanging out. + +"Go on, you must drink it all," said Anatole, giving Pierre the last +glass, "or I won't let you go!" + +"No, I won't," said Pierre, pushing Anatole aside, and he went up to +the window. + +Dolokhov was holding the Englishman's hand and clearly and +distinctly repeating the terms of the bet, addressing himself +particularly to Anatole and Pierre. + +Dolokhov was of medium height, with curly hair and light-blue +eyes. He was about twenty-five. Like all infantry officers he wore +no mustache, so that his mouth, the most striking feature of his face, +was clearly seen. The lines of that mouth were remarkably finely +curved. The middle of the upper lip formed a sharp wedge and closed +firmly on the firm lower one, and something like two distinct smiles +played continually round the two corners of the mouth; this, +together with the resolute, insolent intelligence of his eyes, +produced an effect which made it impossible not to notice his face. +Dolokhov was a man of small means and no connections. Yet, though +Anatole spent tens of thousands of rubles, Dolokhov lived with him and +had placed himself on such a footing that all who knew them, including +Anatole himself, respected him more than they did Anatole. Dolokhov +could play all games and nearly always won. However much he drank, +he never lost his clearheadedness. Both Kuragin and Dolokhov were at +that time notorious among the rakes and scapegraces of Petersburg. + +The bottle of rum was brought. The window frame which prevented +anyone from sitting on the outer sill was being forced out by two +footmen, who were evidently flurried and intimidated by the directions +and shouts of the gentlemen around. + +Anatole with his swaggering air strode up to the window. He wanted +to smash something. Pushing away the footmen he tugged at the frame, +but could not move it. He smashed a pane. + +"You have a try, Hercules," said he, turning to Pierre. + +Pierre seized the crossbeam, tugged, and wrenched the oak frame +out with a crash. + +"Take it right out, or they'll think I'm holding on," said Dolokhov. + +"Is the Englishman bragging?... Eh? Is it all right?" said Anatole. + +"First-rate," said Pierre, looking at Dolokhov, who with a bottle of +rum in his hand was approaching the window, from which the light of +the sky, the dawn merging with the afterglow of sunset, was visible. + +Dolokhov, the bottle of rum still in his hand, jumped onto the +window sill. "Listen!" cried he, standing there and addressing those +in the room. All were silent. + +"I bet fifty imperials"--he spoke French that the Englishman might +understand him, but he did, not speak it very well--"I bet fifty +imperials... or do you wish to make it a hundred?" added he, +addressing the Englishman. + +"No, fifty," replied the latter. + +"All right. Fifty imperials... that I will drink a whole bottle of +rum without taking it from my mouth, sitting outside the window on +this spot" (he stooped and pointed to the sloping ledge outside the +window) "and without holding on to anything. Is that right?" + +"Quite right," said the Englishman. + +Anatole turned to the Englishman and taking him by one of the +buttons of his coat and looking down at him--the Englishman was short- +began repeating the terms of the wager to him in English. + +"Wait!" cried Dolokhov, hammering with the bottle on the window sill +to attract attention. "Wait a bit, Kuragin. Listen! If anyone else +does the same, I will pay him a hundred imperials. Do you understand?" + +The Englishman nodded, but gave no indication whether he intended to +accept this challenge or not. Anatole did not release him, and +though he kept nodding to show that he understood, Anatole went on +translating Dolokhov's words into English. A thin young lad, an hussar +of the Life Guards, who had been losing that evening, climbed on the +window sill, leaned over, and looked down. + +"Oh! Oh! Oh!" he muttered, looking down from the window at the +stones of the pavement. + +"Shut up!" cried Dolokhov, pushing him away from the window. The lad +jumped awkwardly back into the room, tripping over his spurs. + +Placing the bottle on the window sill where he could reach it +easily, Dolokhov climbed carefully and slowly through the window and +lowered his legs. Pressing against both sides of the window, he +adjusted himself on his seat, lowered his hands, moved a little to the +right and then to the left, and took up the bottle. Anatole brought +two candles and placed them on the window sill, though it was +already quite light. Dolokhov's back in his white shirt, and his curly +head, were lit up from both sides. Everyone crowded to the window, the +Englishman in front. Pierre stood smiling but silent. One man, older +than the others present, suddenly pushed forward with a scared and +angry look and wanted to seize hold of Dolokhov's shirt. + +"I say, this is folly! He'll be killed," said this more sensible +man. + +Anatole stopped him. + +"Don't touch him! You'll startle him and then he'll be killed. +Eh?... What then?... Eh?" + +Dolokhov turned round and, again holding on with both hands, +arranged himself on his seat. + +"If anyone comes meddling again," said he, emitting the words +separately through his thin compressed lips, "I will throw him down +there. Now then!" + +Saying this he again turned round, dropped his hands, took the +bottle and lifted it to his lips, threw back his head, and raised +his free hand to balance himself. One of the footmen who had stooped +to pick up some broken glass remained in that position without +taking his eyes from the window and from Dolokhov's back. Anatole +stood erect with staring eyes. The Englishman looked on sideways, +pursing up his lips. The man who had wished to stop the affair ran +to a corner of the room and threw himself on a sofa with his face to +the wall. Pierre hid his face, from which a faint smile forgot to fade +though his features now expressed horror and fear. All were still. +Pierre took his hands from his eyes. Dolokhov still sat in the same +position, only his head was thrown further back till his curly hair +touched his shirt collar, and the hand holding the bottle was lifted +higher and higher and trembled with the effort. The bottle was +emptying perceptibly and rising still higher and his head tilting +yet further back. "Why is it so long?" thought Pierre. It seemed to +him that more than half an hour had elapsed. Suddenly Dolokhov made +a backward movement with his spine, and his arm trembled nervously; +this was sufficient to cause his whole body to slip as he sat on the +sloping ledge. As he began slipping down, his head and arm wavered +still more with the strain. One hand moved as if to clutch the +window sill, but refrained from touching it. Pierre again covered +his eyes and thought he would never never them again. Suddenly he +was aware of a stir all around. He looked up: Dolokhov was standing on +the window sill, with a pale but radiant face. + +"It's empty." + +He threw the bottle to the Englishman, who caught it neatly. +Dolokhov jumped down. He smelt strongly of rum. + +"Well done!... Fine fellow!... There's a bet for you!... Devil +take you!" came from different sides. + +The Englishman took out his purse and began counting out the +money. Dolokhov stood frowning and did not speak. Pierre jumped upon +the window sill. + +"Gentlemen, who wishes to bet with me? I'll do the same thing!" he +suddenly cried. "Even without a bet, there! Tell them to bring me a +bottle. I'll do it.... Bring a bottle!" + +"Let him do it, let him do it," said Dolokhov, smiling. + +"What next? Have you gone mad?... No one would let you!... Why, +you go giddy even on a staircase," exclaimed several voices. + +"I'll drink it! Let's have a bottle of rum!" shouted Pierre, banging +the table with a determined and drunken gesture and preparing to climb +out of the window. + +They seized him by his arms; but he was so strong that everyone +who touched him was sent flying. + +"No, you'll never manage him that way," said Anatole. "Wait a bit +and I'll get round him.... Listen! I'll take your bet tomorrow, but +now we are all going to ----'s." + +"Come on then," cried Pierre. "Come on!... And we'll take Bruin with +us." + +And he caught the bear, took it in his arms, lifted it from the +ground, and began dancing round the room with it. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Prince Vasili kept the promise he had given to Princess +Drubetskaya who had spoken to him on behalf of her only son Boris on +the evening of Anna Pavlovna's soiree. The matter was mentioned to the +Emperor, an exception made, and Boris transferred into the regiment of +Semenov Guards with the rank of cornet. He received, however, no +appointment to Kutuzov's staff despite all Anna Mikhaylovna's +endeavors and entreaties. Soon after Anna Pavlovna's reception Anna +Mikhaylovna returned to Moscow and went straight to her rich +relations, the Rostovs, with whom she stayed when in the town and +where her darling Bory, who had only just entered a regiment +of the line and was being at once transferred to the Guards as a +cornet, had been educated from childhood and lived for years at a +time. The Guards had already left Petersburg on the tenth of August, +and her son, who had remained in Moscow for his equipment, was to join +them on the march to Radzivilov. + +It was St. Natalia's day and the name day of two of the Rostovs--the +mother and the youngest daughter--both named Nataly. Ever since the +morning, carriages with six horses had been coming and going +continually, bringing visitors to the Countess Rostova's big house +on the Povarskaya, so well known to all Moscow. The countess herself +and her handsome eldest daughter were in the drawing-room with the +visitors who came to congratulate, and who constantly succeeded one +another in relays. + +The countess was a woman of about forty-five, with a thin Oriental +type of face, evidently worn out with childbearing--she had had +twelve. A languor of motion and speech, resulting from weakness, +gave her a distinguished air which inspired respect. Princess Anna +Mikhaylovna Drubetskaya, who as a member of the household was also +seated in the drawing room, helped to receive and entertain the +visitors. The young people were in one of the inner rooms, not +considering it necessary to take part in receiving the visitors. The +count met the guests and saw them off, inviting them all to dinner. + +"I am very, very grateful to you, mon cher," or "ma chere"--he +called everyone without exception and without the slightest +variation in his tone, "my dear," whether they were above or below him +in rank--"I thank you for myself and for our two dear ones whose +name day we are keeping. But mind you come to dinner or I shall be +offended, ma chere! On behalf of the whole family I beg you to come, +mon cher!" These words he repeated to everyone without exception or +variation, and with the same expression on his full, cheerful, +clean-shaven face, the same firm pressure of the hand and the same +quick, repeated bows. As soon as he had seen a visitor off he returned +to one of those who were still in the drawing room, drew a chair +toward him or her, and jauntily spreading out his legs and putting his +hands on his knees with the air of a man who enjoys life and knows how +to live, he swayed to and fro with dignity, offered surmises about the +weather, or touched on questions of health, sometimes in Russian and +sometimes in very bad but self-confident French; then again, like a +man weary but unflinching in the fulfillment of duty, he rose to see +some visitors off and, stroking his scanty gray hairs over his bald +patch, also asked them to dinner. Sometimes on his way back from the +anteroom he would pass through the conservatory and pantry into the +large marble dining hall, where tables were being set out for eighty +people; and looking at the footmen, who were bringing in silver and +china, moving tables, and unfolding damask table linen, he would +call Dmitri Vasilevich, a man of good family and the manager of all +his affairs, and while looking with pleasure at the enormous table +would say: "Well, Dmitri, you'll see that things are all as they +should be? That's right! The great thing is the serving, that's it." +And with a complacent sigh he would return to the drawing room. + +"Marya Lvovna Karagina and her daughter!" announced the countess' +gigantic footman in his bass voice, entering the drawing room. The +countess reflected a moment and took a pinch from a gold snuffbox with +her husband's portrait on it. + +"I'm quite worn out by these callers. However, I'll see her and no +more. She is so affected. Ask her in," she said to the footman in a +sad voice, as if saying: "Very well, finish me off." + +A tall, stout, and proud-looking woman, with a round-faced smiling +daughter, entered the drawing room, their dresses rustling. + +"Dear Countess, what an age... She has been laid up, poor child... +at the Razumovski's ball... and Countess Apraksina... I was so +delighted..." came the sounds of animated feminine voices, +interrupting one another and mingling with the rustling of dresses and +the scraping of chairs. Then one of those conversations began which +last out until, at the first pause, the guests rise with a rustle of +dresses and say, "I am so delighted... Mamma's health... and +Countess Apraksina..." and then, again rustling, pass into the +anteroom, put on cloaks or mantles, and drive away. The conversation +was on the chief topic of the day: the illness of the wealthy and +celebrated beau of Catherine's day, Count Bezukhov, and about his +illegitimate son Pierre, the one who had behaved so improperly at Anna +Pavlovna's reception. + +"I am so sorry for the poor count," said the visitor. "He is in such +bad health, and now this vexation about his son is enough to kill +him!" + +"What is that?" asked the countess as if she did not know what the +visitor alluded to, though she had already heard about the cause of +Count Bezukhov's distress some fifteen times. + +"That's what comes of a modern education," exclaimed the visitor. +"It seems that while he was abroad this young man was allowed to do as +he liked, now in Petersburg I hear he has been doing such terrible +things that he has been expelled by the police." + +"You don't say so!" replied the countess. + +"He chose his friends badly," interposed Anna Mikhaylovna. "Prince +Vasili's son, he, and a certain Dolokhov have, it is said, been up +to heaven only knows what! And they have had to suffer for it. +Dolokhov has been degraded to the ranks and Bezukhov's son sent back +to Moscow. Anatole Kuragin's father managed somehow to get his son's +affair hushed up, but even he was ordered out of Petersburg." + +"But what have they been up to?" asked the countess. + +"They are regular brigands, especially Dolokhov," replied the +visitor. "He is a son of Marya Ivanovna Dolokhova, such a worthy +woman, but there, just fancy! Those three got hold of a bear +somewhere, put it in a carriage, and set off with it to visit some +actresses! The police tried to interfere, and what did the young men +do? They tied a policeman and the bear back to back and put the bear +into the Moyka Canal. And there was the bear swimming about with the +policeman on his back!" + +"What a nice figure the policeman must have cut, my dear!" shouted +the count, dying with laughter. + +"Oh, how dreadful! How can you laugh at it, Count?" + +Yet the ladies themselves could not help laughing. + +"It was all they could do to rescue the poor man," continued the +visitor. "And to think it is Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov's son who +amuses himself in this sensible manner! And he was said to be so +well educated and clever. This is all that his foreign education has +done for him! I hope that here in Moscow no one will receive him, in +spite of his money. They wanted to introduce him to me, but I quite +declined: I have my daughters to consider." + +"Why do you say this young man is so rich?" asked the countess, +turning away from the girls, who at once assumed an air of +inattention. "His children are all illegitimate. I think Pierre also +is illegitimate." + +The visitor made a gesture with her hand. + +"I should think he has a score of them." + +Princess Anna Mikhaylovna intervened in the conversation, +evidently wishing to show her connections and knowledge of what went +on in society. + +"The fact of the matter is," said she significantly, and also in a +half whisper, "everyone knows Count Cyril's reputation.... He has lost +count of his children, but this Pierre was his favorite." + +"How handsome the old man still was only a year ago!" remarked the +countess. "I have never seen a handsomer man." + +"He is very much altered now," said Anna Mikhaylovna. "Well, as I +was saying, Prince Vasili is the next heir through his wife, but the +count is very fond of Pierre, looked after his education, and wrote to +the Emperor about him; so that in the case of his death--and he is +so ill that he may die at any moment, and Dr. Lorrain has come from +Petersburg--no one knows who will inherit his immense fortune, +Pierre or Prince Vasili. Forty thousand serfs and millions of +rubles! I know it all very well for Prince Vasili told me himself. +Besides, Cyril Vladimirovich is my mother's second cousin. He's also +my Bory's godfather," she added, as if she attached no importance at +all to the fact. + +"Prince Vasili arrived in Moscow yesterday. I hear he has come on +some inspection business," remarked the visitor. + +"Yes, but between ourselves," said the princess, "that is a +pretext. The fact is he has come to see Count Cyril Vladimirovich, +hearing how ill he is." + +"But do you know, my dear, that was a capital joke," said the count; +and seeing that the elder visitor was not listening, he turned to +the young ladies. "I can just imagine what a funny figure that +policeman cut!" + +And as he waved his arms to impersonate the policeman, his portly +form again shook with a deep ringing laugh, the laugh of one who +always eats well and, in particular, drinks well. "So do come and dine +with us!" he said. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Silence ensued. The countess looked at her callers, smiling affably, +but not concealing the fact that she would not be distressed if they +now rose and took their leave. The visitor's daughter was already +smoothing down her dress with an inquiring look at her mother, when +suddenly from the next room were heard the footsteps of boys and girls +running to the door and the noise of a chair falling over, and a +girl of thirteen, hiding something in the folds of her short muslin +frock, darted in and stopped short in the middle of the room. It was +evident that she had not intended her flight to bring her so far. +Behind her in the doorway appeared a student with a crimson coat +collar, an officer of the Guards, a girl of fifteen, and a plump +rosy-faced boy in a short jacket. + +The count jumped up and, swaying from side to side, spread his +arms wide and threw them round the little girl who had run in. + +"Ah, here she is!" he exclaimed laughing. "My pet, whose name day it +is. My dear pet!" + +"Ma chere, there is a time for everything," said the countess with +feigned severity. "You spoil her, Ilya," she added, turning to her +husband. + +"How do you do, my dear? I wish you many happy returns of your +name day," said the visitor. "What a charming child," she added, +addressing the mother. + +This black-eyed, wide-mouthed girl, not pretty but full of life- +with childish bare shoulders which after her run heaved and shook +her bodice, with black curls tossed backward, thin bare arms, little +legs in lace-frilled drawers, and feet in low slippers--was just at +that charming age when a girl is no longer a child, though the child +is not yet a young woman. Escaping from her father she ran to hide her +flushed face in the lace of her mother's mantilla--not paying the +least attention to her severe remark--and began to laugh. She laughed, +and in fragmentary sentences tried to explain about a doll which she +produced from the folds of her frock. + +"Do you see?... My doll... Mimi... You see..." was all Natasha +managed to utter (to her everything seemed funny). She leaned +against her mother and burst into such a loud, ringing fit of laughter +that even the prim visitor could not help joining in. + +"Now then, go away and take your monstrosity with you," said the +mother, pushing away her daughter with pretended sternness, and +turning to the visitor she added: "She is my youngest girl." + +Natasha, raising her face for a moment from her mother's mantilla, +glanced up at her through tears of laughter, and again hid her face. + +The visitor, compelled to look on at this family scene, thought it +necessary to take some part in it. + +"Tell me, my dear," said she to Natasha, "is Mimi a relation of +yours? A daughter, I suppose?" + +Natasha did not like the visitor's tone of condescension to childish +things. She did not reply, but looked at her seriously. + +Meanwhile the younger generation: Boris, the officer, Anna +Mikhaylovna's son; Nicholas, the undergraduate, the count's eldest +son; Sonya, the count's fifteen-year-old niece, and little Petya, +his youngest boy, had all settled down in the drawing room and were +obviously trying to restrain within the bounds of decorum the +excitement and mirth that shone in all their faces. Evidently in the +back rooms, from which they had dashed out so impetuously, the +conversation had been more amusing than the drawing-room talk of +society scandals, the weather, and Countess Apraksina. Now and then +they glanced at one another, hardly able to suppress their laughter. + +The two young men, the student and the officer, friends from +childhood, were of the same age and both handsome fellows, though +not alike. Boris was tall and fair, and his calm and handsome face had +regular, delicate features. Nicholas was short with curly hair and +an open expression. Dark hairs were already showing on his upper +lip, and his whole face expressed impetuosity and enthusiasm. Nicholas +blushed when he entered the drawing room. He evidently tried to find +something to say, but failed. Boris on the contrary at once found +his footing, and related quietly and humorously how he had know that +doll Mimi when she was still quite a young lady, before her nose was +broken; how she had aged during the five years he had known her, and +how her head had cracked right across the skull. Having said this he +glanced at Natasha. She turned away from him and glanced at her +younger brother, who was screwing up his eyes and shaking with +suppressed laughter, and unable to control herself any longer, she +jumped up and rushed from the room as fast as her nimble little feet +would carry her. Boris did not laugh. + +"You were meaning to go out, weren't you, Mamma? Do you want the +carriage?" he asked his mother with a smile. + +"Yes, yes, go and tell them to get it ready," she answered, +returning his smile. + +Boris quietly left the room and went in search of Natasha. The plump +boy ran after them angrily, as if vexed that their program had been +disturbed. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The only young people remaining in the drawing room, not counting +the young lady visitor and the countess' eldest daughter (who was four +years older than her sister and behaved already like a grown-up +person), were Nicholas and Sonya, the niece. Sonya was a slender +little brunette with a tender look in her eyes which were veiled by +long lashes, thick black plaits coiling twice round her head, and a +tawny tint in her complexion and especially in the color of her +slender but graceful and muscular arms and neck. By the grace of her +movements, by the softness and flexibility of her small limbs, and +by a certain coyness and reserve of manner, she reminded one of a +pretty, half-grown kitten which promises to become a beautiful +little cat. She evidently considered it proper to show an interest +in the general conversation by smiling, but in spite of herself her +eyes under their thick long lashes watched her cousin who was going to +join the army, with such passionate girlish adoration that her smile +could not for a single instant impose upon anyone, and it was clear +that the kitten had settled down only to spring up with more energy +and again play with her cousin as soon as they too could, like Natasha +and Boris, escape from the drawing room. + +"Ah yes, my dear," said the count, addressing the visitor and +pointing to Nicholas, "his friend Boris has become an officer, and +so for friendship's sake he is leaving the university and me, his +old father, and entering the military service, my dear. And there +was a place and everything waiting for him in the Archives Department! +Isn't that friendship?" remarked the count in an inquiring tone. + +"But they say that war has been declared," replied the visitor. + +"They've been saying so a long while," said the count, "and +they'll say so again and again, and that will be the end of it. My +dear, there's friendship for you," he repeated. "He's joining the +hussars." + +The visitor, not knowing what to say, shook her head. + +"It's not at all from friendship," declared Nicholas, flaring up and +turning away as if from a shameful aspersion. "It is not from +friendship at all; I simply feel that the army is my vocation." + +He glanced at his cousin and the young lady visitor; and they were +both regarding him with a smile of approbation. + +"Schubert, the colonel of the Pavlograd Hussars, is dining with us +today. He has been here on leave and is taking Nicholas back with him. +It can't be helped!" said the count, shrugging his shoulders and +speaking playfully of a matter that evidently distressed him. + +"I have already told you, Papa," said his son, "that if you don't +wish to let me go, I'll stay. But I know I am no use anywhere except +in the army; I am not a diplomat or a government clerk.--I don't +know how to hide what I feel." As he spoke he kept glancing with the +flirtatiousness of a handsome youth at Sonya and the young lady +visitor. + +The little kitten, feasting her eyes on him, seemed ready at any +moment to start her gambols again and display her kittenish nature. + +"All right, all right!" said the old count. "He always flares up! +This Buonaparte has turned all their heads; they all think of how he +rose from an ensign and became Emperor. Well, well, God grant it," +he added, not noticing his visitor's sarcastic smile. + +The elders began talking about Bonaparte. Julie Karagina turned to +young Rostov. + +"What a pity you weren't at the Arkharovs' on Thursday. It was so +dull without you," said she, giving him a tender smile. + +The young man, flattered, sat down nearer to her with a coquettish +smile, and engaged the smiling Julie in a confidential conversation +without at all noticing that his involuntary smile had stabbed the +heart of Sonya, who blushed and smiled unnaturally. In the midst of +his talk he glanced round at her. She gave him a passionately angry +glance, and hardly able to restrain her tears and maintain the +artificial smile on her lips, she got up and left the room. All +Nicholas' animation vanished. He waited for the first pause in the +conversation, and then with a distressed face left the room to find +Sonya. + +"How plainly all these young people wear their hearts on their +sleeves!" said Anna Mikhaylovna, pointing to Nicholas as he went +out. "Cousinage--dangereux voisinage;"* she added. + + +*Cousinhood is a dangerous neighborhood. + + +"Yes," said the countess when the brightness these young people +had brought into the room had vanished; and as if answering a question +no one had put but which was always in her mind, "and how much +suffering, how much anxiety one has had to go through that we might +rejoice in them now! And yet really the anxiety is greater now than +the joy. One is always, always anxious! Especially just at this age, +so dangerous both for girls and boys." + +"It all depends on the bringing up," remarked the visitor. + +"Yes, you're quite right," continued the countess. "Till now I +have always, thank God, been my children's friend and had their full +confidence," said she, repeating the mistake of so many parents who +imagine that their children have no secrets from them. "I know I shall +always be my daughters' first confidante, and that if Nicholas, with +his impulsive nature, does get into mischief (a boy can't help it), he +will all the same never be like those Petersburg young men." + +"Yes, they are splendid, splendid youngsters," chimed in the +count, who always solved questions that seemed to him perplexing by +deciding that everything was splendid. "Just fancy: wants to be an +hussar. What's one to do, my dear?" + +"What a charming creature your younger girl is," said the visitor; +"a little volcano!" + +"Yes, a regular volcano," said the count. "Takes after me! And +what a voice she has; though she's my daughter, I tell the truth +when I say she'll be a singer, a second Salomoni! We have engaged an +Italian to give her lessons." + +"Isn't she too young? I have heard that it harms the voice to +train it at that age." + +"Oh no, not at all too young!" replied the count. "Why, our +mothers used to be married at twelve or thirteen." + +"And she's in love with Boris already. Just fancy!" said the +countess with a gentle smile, looking at Boris' and went on, evidently +concerned with a thought that always occupied her: "Now you see if I +were to be severe with her and to forbid it... goodness knows what +they might be up to on the sly" (she meant that they would be +kissing), "but as it is, I know every word she utters. She will come +running to me of her own accord in the evening and tell me everything. +Perhaps I spoil her, but really that seems the best plan. With her +elder sister I was stricter." + +"Yes, I was brought up quite differently," remarked the handsome +elder daughter, Countess Vera, with a smile. + +But the smile did not enhance Vera's beauty as smiles generally +do; on the contrary it gave her an unnatural, and therefore +unpleasant, expression. Vera was good-looking, not at all stupid, +quick at learning, was well brought up, and had a pleasant voice; what +she said was true and appropriate, yet, strange to say, everyone- +the visitors and countess alike--turned to look at her as if wondering +why she had said it, and they all felt awkward. + +"People are always too clever with their eldest children and try +to make something exceptional of them," said the visitor. + +"What's the good of denying it, my dear? Our dear countess was too +clever with Vera," said the count. "Well, what of that? She's turned +out splendidly all the same," he added, winking at Vera. + +The guests got up and took their leave, promising to return to +dinner. + +"What manners! I thought they would never go," said the countess, +when she had seen her guests out. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +When Natasha ran out of the drawing room she only went as far as the +conservatory. There she paused and stood listening to the conversation +in the drawing room, waiting for Boris to come out. She was already +growing impatient, and stamped her foot, ready to cry at his not +coming at once, when she heard the young man's discreet steps +approaching neither quickly nor slowly. At this Natasha dashed swiftly +among the flower tubs and hid there. + +Boris paused in the middle of the room, looked round, brushed a +little dust from the sleeve of his uniform, and going up to a mirror +examined his handsome face. Natasha, very still, peered out from her +ambush, waiting to see what he would do. He stood a little while +before the glass, smiled, and walked toward the other door. Natasha +was about to call him but changed her mind. "Let him look for me," +thought she. Hardly had Boris gone than Sonya, flushed, in tears, +and muttering angrily, came in at the other door. Natasha checked +her first impulse to run out to her, and remained in her hiding place, +watching--as under an invisible cap--to see what went on in the world. +She was experiencing a new and peculiar pleasure. Sonya, muttering +to herself, kept looking round toward the drawing-room door. It opened +and Nicholas came in. + +"Sonya, what is the matter with you? How can you?" said he, +running up to her. + +"It's nothing, nothing; leave me alone!" sobbed Sonya. + +"Ah, I know what it is." + +"Well, if you do, so much the better, and you can go back to her!" + +"So-o-onya! Look here! How can you torture me and yourself like +that, for a mere fancy?" said Nicholas taking her hand. + +Sonya did not pull it away, and left off crying. Natasha, not +stirring and scarcely breathing, watched from her ambush with +sparkling eyes. "What will happen now?" thought she. + +"Sonya! What is anyone in the world to me? You alone are +everything!" said Nicholas. "And I will prove it to you." + +"I don't like you to talk like that." + +"Well, then, I won't; only forgive me, Sonya!" He drew her to him +and kissed her. + +"Oh, how nice," thought Natasha; and when Sonya and Nicholas had +gone out of the conservatory she followed and called Boris to her. + +"Boris, come here," said she with a sly and significant look. "I +have something to tell you. Here, here!" and she led him into the +conservatory to the place among the tubs where she had been hiding. + +Boris followed her, smiling. + +"What is the something?" asked he. + +She grew confused, glanced round, and, seeing the doll she had +thrown down on one of the tubs, picked it up. + +"Kiss the doll," said she. + +Boris looked attentively and kindly at her eager face, but did not +reply. + +"Don't you want to? Well, then, come here," said she, and went +further in among the plants and threw down the doll. "Closer, closer!" +she whispered. + +She caught the young officer by his cuffs, and a look of solemnity +and fear appeared on her flushed face. + +"And me? Would you like to kiss me?" she whispered almost inaudibly, +glancing up at him from under her brows, smiling, and almost crying +from excitement. + +Boris blushed. + +"How funny you are!" he said, bending down to her and blushing still +more, but he waited and did nothing. + +Suddenly she jumped up onto a tub to be higher than he, embraced him +so that both her slender bare arms clasped him above his neck, and, +tossing back her hair, kissed him full on the lips. + +Then she slipped down among the flowerpots on the other side of +the tubs and stood, hanging her head. + +"Natasha," he said, "you know that I love you, but..." + +"You are in love with me?" Natasha broke in. + +"Yes, I am, but please don't let us do like that.... In another four +years... then I will ask for your hand." + +Natasha considered. + +"Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen," she counted on her slender +little fingers. "All right! Then it's settled?" + +A smile of joy and satisfaction lit up her eager face. + +"Settled!" replied Boris. + +"Forever?" said the little girl. "Till death itself?" + +She took his arm and with a happy face went with him into the +adjoining sitting room. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +After receiving her visitors, the countess was so tired that she +gave orders to admit no more, but the porter was told to be sure to +invite to dinner all who came "to congratulate." The countess wished +to have a tete-a-tete talk with the friend of her childhood, +Princess Anna Mikhaylovna, whom she had not seen properly since she +returned from Petersburg. Anna Mikhaylovna, with her tear-worn but +pleasant face, drew her chair nearer to that of the countess. + +"With you I will be quite frank," said Anna Mikhaylovna. "There +are not many left of us old friends! That's why I so value your +friendship." + +Anna Mikhaylovna looked at Vera and paused. The countess pressed her +friend's hand. + +"Vera," she said to her eldest daughter who was evidently not a +favorite, "how is it you have so little tact? Don't you see you are +not wanted here? Go to the other girls, or..." + +The handsome Vera smiled contemptuously but did not seem at all +hurt. + +"If you had told me sooner, Mamma, I would have gone," she replied +as she rose to go to her own room. + +But as she passed the sitting room she noticed two couples +sitting, one pair at each window. She stopped and smiled scornfully. +Sonya was sitting close to Nicholas who was copying out some verses +for her, the first he had ever written. Boris and Natasha were at +the other window and ceased talking when Vera entered. Sonya and +Natasha looked at Vera with guilty, happy faces. + +It was pleasant and touching to see these little girls in love; +but apparently the sight of them roused no pleasant feeling in Vera. + +"How often have I asked you not to take my things?" she said. "You +have a room of your own," and she took the inkstand from Nicholas. + +"In a minute, in a minute," he said, dipping his pen. + +"You always manage to do things at the wrong time," continued +Vera. "You came rushing into the drawing room so that everyone felt +ashamed of you." + +Though what she said was quite just, perhaps for that very reason no +one replied, and the four simply looked at one another. She lingered +in the room with the inkstand in her hand. + +"And at your age what secrets can there be between Natasha and +Boris, or between you two? It's all nonsense!" + +"Now, Vera, what does it matter to you?" said Natasha in defense, +speaking very gently. + +She seemed that day to be more than ever kind and affectionate to +everyone. + +"Very silly," said Vera. "I am ashamed of you. Secrets indeed!" + +"All have secrets of their own," answered Natasha, getting warmer. +"We don't interfere with you and Berg." + +"I should think not," said Vera, "because there can never be +anything wrong in my behavior. But I'll just tell Mamma how you are +behaving with Boris." + +"Natalya Ilynichna behaves very well to me," remarked Boris. "I have +nothing to complain of." + +"Don't, Boris! You are such a diplomat that it is really +tiresome," said Natasha in a mortified voice that trembled slightly. +(She used the word "diplomat," which was just then much in vogue among +the children, in the special sense they attached to it.) "Why does she +bother me?" And she added, turning to Vera, "You'll never understand +it, because you've never loved anyone. You have no heart! You are a +Madame de Genlis and nothing more" (this nickname, bestowed on Vera by +Nicholas, was considered very stinging), "and your greatest pleasure +is to be unpleasant to people! Go and flirt with Berg as much as you +please," she finished quickly. + +"I shall at any rate not run after a young man before visitors..." + +"Well, now you've done what you wanted," put in Nicholas--"said +unpleasant things to everyone and upset them. Let's go to the +nursery." + +All four, like a flock of scared birds, got up and left the room. + +"The unpleasant things were said to me," remarked Vera, "I said none +to anyone." + +"Madame de Genlis! Madame de Genlis!" shouted laughing voices +through the door. + +The handsome Vera, who produced such an irritating and unpleasant +effect on everyone, smiled and, evidently unmoved by what had been +said to her, went to the looking glass and arranged her hair and +scarf. Looking at her own handsome face she seemed to become still +colder and calmer. + + +In the drawing room the conversation was still going on. + +"Ah, my dear," said the countess, "my life is not all roses +either. Don't I know that at the rate we are living our means won't +last long? It's all the Club and his easygoing nature. Even in the +country do we get any rest? Theatricals, hunting, and heaven knows +what besides! But don't let's talk about me; tell me how you managed +everything. I often wonder at you, Annette--how at your age you can +rush off alone in a carriage to Moscow, to Petersburg, to those +ministers and great people, and know how to deal with them all! It's +quite astonishing. How did you get things settled? I couldn't possibly +do it." + +"Ah, my love," answered Anna Mikhaylovna, "God grant you never +know what it is to be left a widow without means and with a son you +love to distraction! One learns many things then," she added with a +certain pride. "That lawsuit taught me much. When I want to see one of +those big people I write a note: 'Princess So-and-So desires an +interview with So and-So,' and then I take a cab and go myself two, +three, or four times--till I get what I want. I don't mind what they +think of me." + +"Well, and to whom did you apply about Bory?" asked the countess. +"You see yours is already an officer in the Guards, while my +Nicholas is going as a cadet. There's no one to interest himself for +him. To whom did you apply?" + +"To Prince Vasili. He was so kind. He at once agreed to +everything, and put the matter before the Emperor," said Princess Anna +Mikhaylovna enthusiastically, quite forgetting all the humiliation she +had endured to gain her end. + +"Has Prince Vasili aged much?" asked the countess. "I have not +seen him since we acted together at the Rumyantsovs' theatricals. I +expect he has forgotten me. He paid me attentions in those days," said +the countess, with a smile. + +"He is just the same as ever," replied Anna Mikhaylovna, +"overflowing with amiability. His position has not turned his head +at all. He said to me, 'I am sorry I can do so little for you, dear +Princess. I am at your command.' Yes, he is a fine fellow and a very +kind relation. But, Nataly, you know my love for my son: I would do +anything for his happiness! And my affairs are in such a bad way +that my position is now a terrible one," continued Anna Mikhaylovna, +sadly, dropping her voice. "My wretched lawsuit takes all I have and +makes no progress. Would you believe it, I have literally not a +penny and don't know how to equip Boris." She took out her +handkerchief and began to cry. "I need five hundred rubles, and have +only one twenty-five-ruble note. I am in such a state.... My only hope +now is in Count Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov. If he will not assist +his godson--you know he is Bory's godfather--and allow him something +for his maintenance, all my trouble will have been thrown away.... I +shall not be able to equip him." + +The countess' eyes filled with tears and she pondered in silence. + +"I often think, though, perhaps it's a sin," said the princess, +"that here lives Count Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov so rich, all +alone... that tremendous fortune... and what is his life worth? It's a +burden to him, and Bory's life is only just beginning...." + +"Surely he will leave something to Boris," said the countess. + +"Heaven only knows, my dear! These rich grandees are so selfish. +Still, I will take Boris and go to see him at once, and I shall +speak to him straight out. Let people think what they will of me, it's +really all the same to me when my son's fate is at stake." The +princess rose. "It's now two o'clock and you dine at four. There +will just be time." + +And like a practical Petersburg lady who knows how to make the +most of time, Anna Mikhaylovna sent someone to call her son, and +went into the anteroom with him. + +"Good-by, my dear," said she to the countess who saw her to the +door, and added in a whisper so that her son should not hear, "Wish me +good luck." + +"Are you going to Count Cyril Vladimirovich, my dear?" said the +count coming out from the dining hall into the anteroom, and he added: +"If he is better, ask Pierre to dine with us. He has been to the +house, you know, and danced with the children. Be sure to invite +him, my dear. We will see how Taras distinguishes himself today. He +says Count Orlov never gave such a dinner as ours will be!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +"My dear Boris," said Princess Anna Mikhaylovna to her son as +Countess Rostova's carriage in which they were seated drove over the +straw covered street and turned into the wide courtyard of Count Cyril +Vladimirovich Bezukhov's house. "My dear Boris," said the mother, +drawing her hand from beneath her old mantle and laying it timidly and +tenderly on her son's arm, "be affectionate and attentive to him. +Count Cyril Vladimirovich is your godfather after all, your future +depends on him. Remember that, my dear, and be nice to him, as you +so well know how to be." + +"If only I knew that anything besides humiliation would come of +it..." answered her son coldly. "But I have promised and will do it +for your sake." + +Although the hall porter saw someone's carriage standing at the +entrance, after scrutinizing the mother and son (who without asking to +be announced had passed straight through the glass porch between the +rows of statues in niches) and looking significantly at the lady's old +cloak, he asked whether they wanted the count or the princesses, +and, hearing that they wished to see the count, said his excellency +was worse today, and that his excellency was not receiving anyone. + +"We may as well go back," said the son in French. + +"My dear!" exclaimed his mother imploringly, again laying her hand +on his arm as if that touch might soothe or rouse him. + +Boris said no more, but looked inquiringly at his mother without +taking off his cloak. + +"My friend," said Anna Mikhaylovna in gentle tones, addressing the +hall porter, "I know Count Cyril Vladimirovich is very ill... that's +why I have come... I am a relation. I shall not disturb him, my +friend... I only need see Prince Vasili Sergeevich: he is staying +here, is he not? Please announce me." + +The hall porter sullenly pulled a bell that rang upstairs, and +turned away. + +"Princess Drubetskaya to see Prince Vasili Sergeevich," he called to +a footman dressed in knee breeches, shoes, and a swallow-tail coat, +who ran downstairs and looked over from the halfway landing. + +The mother smoothed the folds of her dyed silk dress before a +large Venetian mirror in the wall, and in her trodden-down shoes +briskly ascended the carpeted stairs. + +"My dear," she said to her son, once more stimulating him by a +touch, "you promised me!" + +The son, lowering his eyes, followed her quietly. + +They entered the large hall, from which one of the doors led to +the apartments assigned to Prince Vasili. + +Just as the mother and son, having reached the middle of the hall, +were about to ask their way of an elderly footman who had sprung up as +they entered, the bronze handle of one of the doors turned and +Prince Vasili came out--wearing a velvet coat with a single star on +his breast, as was his custom when at home--taking leave of a +good-looking, dark-haired man. This was the celebrated Petersburg +doctor, Lorrain. + +"Then it is certain?" said the prince. + +"Prince, humanum est errare,* but..." replied the doctor, swallowing +his r's, and pronouncing the Latin words with a French accent. + + +*To err is human. + + +"Very well, very well..." + +Seeing Anna Mikhaylovna and her son, Prince Vasili dismissed the +doctor with a bow and approached them silently and with a look of +inquiry. The son noticed that an expression of profound sorrow +suddenly clouded his mother's face, and he smiled slightly. + +"Ah, Prince! In what sad circumstances we meet again! And how is our +dear invalid?" said she, as though unaware of the cold offensive +look fixed on her. + +Prince Vasili stared at her and at Boris questioningly and +perplexed. Boris bowed politely. Prince Vasili without acknowledging +the bow turned to Anna Mikhaylovna, answering her query by a +movement of the head and lips indicating very little hope for the +patient. + +"Is it possible?" exclaimed Anna Mikhaylovna. "Oh, how awful! It +is terrible to think.... This is my son," she added, indicating Boris. +"He wanted to thank you himself." + +Boris bowed again politely. + +"Believe me, Prince, a mother's heart will never forget what you +have done for us." + +"I am glad I was able to do you a service, my dear Anna +Mikhaylovna," said Prince Vasili, arranging his lace frill, and in +tone and manner, here in Moscow to Anna Mikhaylovna whom he had placed +under an obligation, assuming an air of much greater importance than +he had done in Petersburg at Anna Scherer's reception. + +"Try to serve well and show yourself worthy," added he, addressing +Boris with severity. "I am glad.... Are you here on leave?" he went on +in his usual tone of indifference. + +"I am awaiting orders to join my new regiment, your excellency," +replied Boris, betraying neither annoyance at the prince's brusque +manner nor a desire to enter into conversation, but speaking so +quietly and respectfully that the prince gave him a searching glance. + +"Are you living with your mother?" + +"I am living at Countess Rostova's," replied Boris, again adding, +"your excellency." + +"That is, with Ilya Rostov who married Nataly Shinshina," said +Anna Mikhaylovna. + +"I know, I know," answered Prince Vasili in his monotonous voice. "I +never could understand how Nataly made up her mind to marry that +unlicked bear! A perfectly absurd and stupid fellow, and a gambler +too, I am told." + +"But a very kind man, Prince," said Anna Mikhaylovna with a pathetic +smile, as though she too knew that Count Rostov deserved this censure, +but asked him not to be too hard on the poor old man. "What do the +doctors say?" asked the princess after a pause, her worn face again +expressing deep sorrow. + +"They give little hope," replied the prince. + +"And I should so like to thank Uncle once for all his kindness to me +and Boris. He is his godson," she added, her tone suggesting that this +fact ought to give Prince Vasili much satisfaction. + +Prince Vasili became thoughtful and frowned. Anna Mikhaylovna saw +that he was afraid of finding in her a rival for Count Bezukhov's +fortune, and hastened to reassure him. + +"If it were not for my sincere affection and devotion to Uncle," +said she, uttering the word with peculiar assurance and unconcern, +"I know his character: noble, upright... but you see he has no one +with him except the young princesses.... They are still young...." She +bent her head and continued in a whisper: "Has he performed his +final duty, Prince? How priceless are those last moments! It can +make things no worse, and it is absolutely necessary to prepare him if +he is so ill. We women, Prince," and she smiled tenderly, "always know +how to say these things. I absolutely must see him, however painful it +may be for me. I am used to suffering." + +Evidently the prince understood her, and also understood, as he +had done at Anna Pavlovna's, that it would be difficult to get rid +of Anna Mikhaylovna. + +"Would not such a meeting be too trying for him, dear Anna +Mikhaylovna?" said he. "Let us wait until evening. The doctors are +expecting a crisis." + +"But one cannot delay, Prince, at such a moment! Consider that the +welfare of his soul is at stake. Ah, it is awful: the duties of a +Christian..." + +A door of one of the inner rooms opened and one of the princesses, +the count's niece, entered with a cold, stern face. The length of +her body was strikingly out of proportion to her short legs. Prince +Vasili turned to her. + +"Well, how is he?" + +"Still the same; but what can you expect, this noise..." said the +princess, looking at Anna Mikhaylovna as at a stranger. + +"Ah, my dear, I hardly knew you," said Anna Mikhaylovna with a happy +smile, ambling lightly up to the count's niece. "I have come, and am +at your service to help you nurse my uncle. I imagine what you have +gone through," and she sympathetically turned up her eyes. + +The princess gave no reply and did not even smile, but left the room +as Anna Mikhaylovna took off her gloves and, occupying the position +she had conquered, settled down in an armchair, inviting Prince Vasili +to take a seat beside her. + +"Boris," she said to her son with a smile, "I shall go in to see the +count, my uncle; but you, my dear, had better go to Pierre meanwhile +and don't forget to give him the Rostovs' invitation. They ask him +to dinner. I suppose he won't go?" she continued, turning to the +prince. + +"On the contrary," replied the prince, who had plainly become +depressed, "I shall be only too glad if you relieve me of that young +man.... Here he is, and the count has not once asked for him." + +He shrugged his shoulders. A footman conducted Boris down one flight +of stairs and up another, to Pierre's rooms. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Pierre, after all, had not managed to choose a career for himself in +Petersburg, and had been expelled from there for riotous conduct and +sent to Moscow. The story told about him at Count Rostov's was true. +Pierre had taken part in tying a policeman to a bear. He had now +been for some days in Moscow and was staying as usual at his +father's house. Though he expected that the story of his escapade +would be already known in Moscow and that the ladies about his father- +who were never favorably disposed toward him--would have used it to +turn the count against him, he nevertheless on the day of his +arrival went to his father's part of the house. Entering the drawing +room, where the princesses spent most of their time, he greeted the +ladies, two of whom were sitting at embroidery frames while a third +read aloud. It was the eldest who was reading--the one who had met +Anna Mikhaylovna. The two younger ones were embroidering: both were +rosy and pretty and they differed only in that one had a little mole +on her lip which made her much prettier. Pierre was received as if +he were a corpse or a leper. The eldest princess paused in her reading +and silently stared at him with frightened eyes; the second assumed +precisely the same expression; while the youngest, the one with the +mole, who was of a cheerful and lively disposition, bent over her +frame to hide a smile probably evoked by the amusing scene she +foresaw. She drew her wool down through the canvas and, scarcely +able to refrain from laughing, stooped as if trying to make out the +pattern. + +"How do you do, cousin?" said Pierre. "You don't recognize me?" + +"I recognize you only too well, too well." + +"How is the count? Can I see him?" asked Pierre, awkwardly as usual, +but unabashed. + +"The count is suffering physically and mentally, and apparently +you have done your best to increase his mental sufferings." + +"Can I see the count?" Pierre again asked. + +"Hm.... If you wish to kill him, to kill him outright, you can see +him... Olga, go and see whether Uncle's beef tea is ready--it is +almost time," she added, giving Pierre to understand that they were +busy, and busy making his father comfortable, while evidently he, +Pierre, was only busy causing him annoyance. + +Olga went out. Pierre stood looking at the sisters; then he bowed +and said: "Then I will go to my rooms. You will let me know when I can +see him." + +And he left the room, followed by the low but ringing laughter of +the sister with the mole. + +Next day Prince Vasili had arrived and settled in the count's house. +He sent for Pierre and said to him: "My dear fellow, if you are +going to behave here as you did in Petersburg, you will end very +badly; that is all I have to say to you. The count is very, very +ill, and you must not see him at all." + +Since then Pierre had not been disturbed and had spent the whole +time in his rooms upstairs. + +When Boris appeared at his door Pierre was pacing up and down his +room, stopping occasionally at a corner to make menacing gestures at +the wall, as if running a sword through an invisible foe, and +glaring savagely over his spectacles, and then again resuming his +walk, muttering indistinct words, shrugging his shoulders and +gesticulating. + +"England is done for," said he, scowling and pointing his finger +at someone unseen. "Mr. Pitt, as a traitor to the nation and to the +rights of man, is sentenced to..." But before Pierre--who at that +moment imagined himself to be Napoleon in person and to have just +effected the dangerous crossing of the Straits of Dover and captured +London--could pronounce Pitt's sentence, he saw a well-built and +handsome young officer entering his room. Pierre paused. He had left +Moscow when Boris was a boy of fourteen, and had quite forgotten +him, but in his usual impulsive and hearty way he took Boris by the +hand with a friendly smile. + +"Do you remember me?" asked Boris quietly with a pleasant smile. +"I have come with my mother to see the count, but it seems he is not +well." + +"Yes, it seems he is ill. People are always disturbing him," +answered Pierre, trying to remember who this young man was. + +Boris felt that Pierre did not recognize him but did not consider it +necessary to introduce himself, and without experiencing the least +embarrassment looked Pierre straight in the face. + +"Count Rostov asks you to come to dinner today," said he, after a +considerable pause which made Pierre feel uncomfortable. + +"Ah, Count Rostov!" exclaimed Pierre joyfully. "Then you are his +son, Ilya? Only fancy, I didn't know you at first. Do you remember how +we went to the Sparrow Hills with Madame Jacquot?... It's such an +age..." + +"You are mistaken," said Boris deliberately, with a bold and +slightly sarcastic smile. "I am Boris, son of Princess Anna +Mikhaylovna Drubetskaya. Rostov, the father, is Ilya, and his son is +Nicholas. I never knew any Madame Jacquot." + +Pierre shook his head and arms as if attacked by mosquitoes or bees. + +"Oh dear, what am I thinking about? I've mixed everything up. One +has so many relatives in Moscow! So you are Boris? Of course. Well, +now we know where we are. And what do you think of the Boulogne +expedition? The English will come off badly, you know, if Napoleon +gets across the Channel. I think the expedition is quite feasible. +If only Villeneuve doesn't make a mess of things!" + +Boris knew nothing about the Boulogne expedition; he did not read +the papers and it was the first time he had heard Villeneuve's name. + +"We here in Moscow are more occupied with dinner parties and scandal +than with politics," said he in his quiet ironical tone. "I know +nothing about it and have not thought about it. Moscow is chiefly busy +with gossip," he continued. "Just now they are talking about you and +your father." + +Pierre smiled in his good-natured way as if afraid for his +companion's sake that the latter might say something he would +afterwards regret. But Boris spoke distinctly, clearly, and dryly, +looking straight into Pierre's eyes. + +"Moscow has nothing else to do but gossip," Boris went on. +"Everybody is wondering to whom the count will leave his fortune, +though he may perhaps outlive us all, as I sincerely hope he will..." + +"Yes, it is all very horrid," interrupted Pierre, "very horrid." + +Pierre was still afraid that this officer might inadvertently say +something disconcerting to himself. + +"And it must seem to you," said Boris flushing slightly, but not +changing his tone or attitude, "it must seem to you that everyone is +trying to get something out of the rich man?" + +"So it does," thought Pierre. + +"But I just wish to say, to avoid misunderstandings, that you are +quite mistaken if you reckon me or my mother among such people. We are +very poor, but for my own part at any rate, for the very reason that +your father is rich, I don't regard myself as a relation of his, and +neither I nor my mother would ever ask or take anything from him." + +For a long time Pierre could not understand, but when he did, he +jumped up from the sofa, seized Boris under the elbow in his quick, +clumsy way, and, blushing far more than Boris, began to speak with a +feeling of mingled shame and vexation. + +"Well, this is strange! Do you suppose I... who could think?... I +know very well..." + +But Boris again interrupted him. + +"I am glad I have spoken out fully. Perhaps you did not like it? You +must excuse me," said he, putting Pierre at ease instead of being +put at ease by him, "but I hope I have not offended you. I always make +it a rule to speak out... Well, what answer am I to take? Will you +come to dinner at the Rostovs'?" + +And Boris, having apparently relieved himself of an onerous duty and +extricated himself from an awkward situation and placed another in it, +became quite pleasant again. + +"No, but I say," said Pierre, calming down, "you are a wonderful +fellow! What you have just said is good, very good. Of course you +don't know me. We have not met for such a long time... not since we +were children. You might think that I... I understand, quite +understand. I could not have done it myself, I should not have had the +courage, but it's splendid. I am very glad to have made your +acquaintance. It's queer," he added after a pause, "that you should +have suspected me!" He began to laugh. "Well, what of it! I hope we'll +get better acquainted," and he pressed Boris' hand. "Do you know, I +have not once been in to see the count. He has not sent for me.... I +am sorry for him as a man, but what can one do?" + +"And so you think Napoleon will manage to get an army across?" asked +Boris with a smile. + +Pierre saw that Boris wished to change the subject, and being of the +same mind he began explaining the advantages and disadvantages of +the Boulogne expedition. + +A footman came in to summon Boris--the princess was going. Pierre, +in order to make Boris' better acquaintance, promised to come to +dinner, and warmly pressing his hand looked affectionately over his +spectacles into Boris' eyes. After he had gone Pierre continued pacing +up and down the room for a long time, no longer piercing an +imaginary foe with his imaginary sword, but smiling at the remembrance +of that pleasant, intelligent, and resolute young man. + +As often happens in early youth, especially to one who leads a +lonely life, he felt an unaccountable tenderness for this young man +and made up his mind that they would be friends. + +Prince Vasili saw the princess off. She held a handkerchief to her +eyes and her face was tearful. + +"It is dreadful, dreadful!" she was saying, "but cost me what it may +I shall do my duty. I will come and spend the night. He must not be +left like this. Every moment is precious. I can't think why his nieces +put it off. Perhaps God will help me to find a way to prepare +him!... Adieu, Prince! May God support you..." + +"Adieu, ma bonne," answered Prince Vasili turning away from her. + +"Oh, he is in a dreadful state," said the mother to her son when +they were in the carriage. "He hardly recognizes anybody." + +"I don't understand, Mamma--what is his attitude to Pierre?" asked +the son. + +"The will will show that, my dear; our fate also depends on it." + +"But why do you expect that he will leave us anything?" + +"Ah, my dear! He is so rich, and we are so poor!" + +"Well, that is hardly a sufficient reason, Mamma..." + +"Oh, Heaven! How ill he is!" exclaimed the mother. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +After Anna Mikhaylovna had driven off with her son to visit Count +Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov, Countess Rostova sat for a long time all +alone applying her handkerchief to her eyes. At last she rang. + +"What is the matter with you, my dear?" she said crossly to the maid +who kept her waiting some minutes. "Don't you wish to serve me? Then +I'll find you another place." + +The countess was upset by her friend's sorrow and humiliating +poverty, and was therefore out of sorts, a state of mind which with +her always found expression in calling her maid "my dear" and speaking +to her with exaggerated politeness. + +"I am very sorry, ma'am," answered the maid. + +"Ask the count to come to me." + +The count came waddling in to see his wife with a rather guilty look +as usual. + +"Well, little countess? What a saute of game au madere we are to +have, my dear! I tasted it. The thousand rubles I paid for Taras +were not ill-spent. He is worth it!" + +He sat down by his wife, his elbows on his knees and his hands +ruffling his gray hair. + +"What are your commands, little countess?" + +"You see, my dear... What's that mess?" she said, pointing to his +waistcoat. "It's the saute, most likely," she added with a smile. +"Well, you see, Count, I want some money." + +Her face became sad. + +"Oh, little countess!"... and the count began bustling to get out +his pocketbook. + +"I want a great deal, Count! I want five hundred rubles," and taking +out her cambric handkerchief she began wiping her husband's waistcoat. + +"Yes, immediately, immediately! Hey, who's there?" he called out +in a tone only used by persons who are certain that those they call +will rush to obey the summons. "Send Dmitri to me!" + +Dmitri, a man of good family who had been brought up in the +count's house and now managed all his affairs, stepped softly into the +room. + +"This is what I want, my dear fellow," said the count to the +deferential young man who had entered. "Bring me..." he reflected a +moment, "yes, bring me seven hundred rubles, yes! But mind, don't +bring me such tattered and dirty notes as last time, but nice clean +ones for the countess." + +"Yes, Dmitri, clean ones, please," said the countess, sighing +deeply. + +"When would you like them, your excellency?" asked Dmitri. "Allow me +to inform you... But, don't be uneasy," he added, noticing that the +count was beginning to breathe heavily and quickly which was always +a sign of approaching anger. "I was forgetting... Do you wish it +brought at once?" + +"Yes, yes; just so! Bring it. Give it to the countess." + +"What a treasure that Dmitri is," added the count with a smile +when the young man had departed. "There is never any 'impossible' +with him. That's a thing I hate! Everything is possible." + +"Ah, money, Count, money! How much sorrow it causes in the world," +said the countess. "But I am in great need of this sum." + +"You, my little countess, are a notorious spendthrift," said the +count, and having kissed his wife's hand he went back to his study. + +When Anna Mikhaylovna returned from Count Bezukhov's the money, +all in clean notes, was lying ready under a handkerchief on the +countess' little table, and Anna Mikhaylovna noticed that something +was agitating her. + +"Well, my dear?" asked the countess. + +"Oh, what a terrible state he is in! One would not know him, he is +so ill! I was only there a few moments and hardly said a word..." + +"Annette, for heaven's sake don't refuse me," the countess began, +with a blush that looked very strange on her thin, dignified, +elderly face, and she took the money from under the handkerchief. + +Anna Mikhaylovna instantly guessed her intention and stooped to be +ready to embrace the countess at the appropriate moment. + +"This is for Boris from me, for his outfit." + +Anna Mikhaylovna was already embracing her and weeping. The countess +wept too. They wept because they were friends, and because they were +kindhearted, and because they--friends from childhood--had to think +about such a base thing as money, and because their youth was over.... +But those tears were pleasant to them both. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Countess Rostova, with her daughters and a large number of guests, +was already seated in the drawing room. The count took the gentlemen +into his study and showed them his choice collection of Turkish pipes. +From time to time he went out to ask: "Hasn't she come yet?" They were +expecting Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova, known in society as le +terrible dragon, a lady distinguished not for wealth or rank, but +for common sense and frank plainness of speech. Marya Dmitrievna was +known to the Imperial family as well as to all Moscow and +Petersburg, and both cities wondered at her, laughed privately at +her rudenesses, and told good stories about her, while none the less +all without exception respected and feared her. + +In the count's room, which was full of tobacco smoke, they talked of +war that had been announced in a manifesto, and about the +recruiting. None of them had yet seen the manifesto, but they all knew +it had appeared. The count sat on the sofa between two guests who were +smoking and talking. He neither smoked nor talked, but bending his +head first to one side and then to the other watched the smokers +with evident pleasure and listened to the conversation of his two +neighbors, whom he egged on against each other. + +One of them was a sallow, clean-shaven civilian with a thin and +wrinkled face, already growing old, though he was dressed like a +most fashionable young man. He sat with his legs up on the sofa as +if quite at home and, having stuck an amber mouthpiece far into his +mouth, was inhaling the smoke spasmodically and screwing up his +eyes. This was an old bachelor, Shinshin, a cousin of the countess', a +man with "a sharp tongue" as they said in Moscow society. He seemed to +be condescending to his companion. The latter, a fresh, rosy officer +of the Guards, irreproachably washed, brushed, and buttoned, held +his pipe in the middle of his mouth and with red lips gently inhaled +the smoke, letting it escape from his handsome mouth in rings. This +was Lieutenant Berg, an officer in the Semenov regiment with whom +Boris was to travel to join the army, and about whom Natasha had, +teased her elder sister Vera, speaking of Berg as her "intended." +The count sat between them and listened attentively. His favorite +occupation when not playing boston, a card game he was very fond of, +was that of listener, especially when he succeeded in setting two +loquacious talkers at one another. + +"Well, then, old chap, mon tres honorable Alphonse Karlovich," +said Shinshin, laughing ironically and mixing the most ordinary +Russian expressions with the choicest French phrases--which was a +peculiarity of his speech. "Vous comptez vous faire des rentes sur +l'etat;* you want to make something out of your company?" + + +*You expect to make an income out of the government. + + +"No, Peter Nikolaevich; I only want to show that in the cavalry +the advantages are far less than in the infantry. Just consider my own +position now, Peter Nikolaevich..." + +Berg always spoke quietly, politely, and with great precision. His +conversation always related entirely to himself; he would remain +calm and silent when the talk related to any topic that had no +direct bearing on himself. He could remain silent for hours without +being at all put out of countenance himself or making others +uncomfortable, but as soon as the conversation concerned himself he +would begin to talk circumstantially and with evident satisfaction. + +"Consider my position, Peter Nikolaevich. Were I in the cavalry I +should get not more than two hundred rubles every four months, even +with the rank of lieutenant; but as it is I receive two hundred and +thirty," said he, looking at Shinshin and the count with a joyful, +pleasant smile, as if it were obvious to him that his success must +always be the chief desire of everyone else. + +"Besides that, Peter Nikolaevich, by exchanging into the Guards I +shall be in a more prominent position," continued Berg, "and vacancies +occur much more frequently in the Foot Guards. Then just think what +can be done with two hundred and thirty rubles! I even manage to put a +little aside and to send something to my father," he went on, emitting +a smoke ring. + +"La balance y est...* A German knows how to skin a flint, as the +proverb says," remarked Shinshin, moving his pipe to the other side of +his mouth and winking at the count. + + +*So that squares matters. + + +The count burst out laughing. The other guests seeing that +Shinshin was talking came up to listen. Berg, oblivious of irony or +indifference, continued to explain how by exchanging into the Guards +he had already gained a step on his old comrades of the Cadet Corps; +how in wartime the company commander might get killed and he, as +senior in the company, might easily succeed to the post; how popular +he was with everyone in the regiment, and how satisfied his father was +with him. Berg evidently enjoyed narrating all this, and did not +seem to suspect that others, too, might have their own interests. +But all he said was so prettily sedate, and the naivete of his +youthful egotism was so obvious, that he disarmed his hearers. + +"Well, my boy, you'll get along wherever you go--foot or horse--that +I'll warrant," said Shinshin, patting him on the shoulder and taking +his feet off the sofa. + +Berg smiled joyously. The count, by his guests, went into the +drawing room. + +It was just the moment before a big dinner when the assembled +guests, expecting the summons to zakuska,* avoid engaging in any +long conversation but think it necessary to move about and talk, in +order to show that they are not at all impatient for their food. The +host and hostess look toward the door, and now and then glance at +one another, and the visitors try to guess from these glances who, +or what, they are waiting for--some important relation who has not yet +arrived, or a dish that is not yet ready. + + +*Hors d'oeuvres. + + +Pierre had come just at dinnertime and was sitting awkwardly in +the middle of the drawing room on the first chair he had come +across, blocking the way for everyone. The countess tried to make +him talk, but he went on naively looking around through his spectacles +as if in search of somebody and answered all her questions in +monosyllables. He was in the way and was the only one who did not +notice the fact. Most of the guests, knowing of the affair with the +bear, looked with curiosity at this big, stout, quiet man, wondering +how such a clumsy, modest fellow could have played such a prank on a +policeman. + +"You have only lately arrived?" the countess asked him. + +"Oui, madame," replied he, looking around him. + +"You have not yet seen my husband?" + +"Non, madame." He smiled quite inappropriately. + +"You have been in Paris recently, I believe? I suppose it's very +interesting." + +"Very interesting." + +The countess exchanged glances with Anna Mikhaylovna. The latter +understood that she was being asked to entertain this young man, and +sitting down beside him she began to speak about his father; but he +answered her, as he had the countess, only in monosyllables. The other +guests were all conversing with one another. "The Razumovskis... It +was charming... You are very kind... Countess Apraksina..." was +heard on all sides. The countess rose and went into the ballroom. + +"Marya Dmitrievna?" came her voice from there. + +"Herself," came the answer in a rough voice, and Marya Dmitrievna +entered the room. + +All the unmarried ladies and even the married ones except the very +oldest rose. Marya Dmitrievna paused at the door. Tall and stout, +holding high her fifty-year-old head with its gray curls, she stood +surveying the guests, and leisurely arranged her wide sleeves as if +rolling them up. Marya Dmitrievna always spoke in Russian. + +"Health and happiness to her whose name day we are keeping and to +her children," she said, in her loud, full-toned voice which drowned +all others. "Well, you old sinner," she went on, turning to the +count who was kissing her hand, "you're feeling dull in Moscow, I +daresay? Nowhere to hunt with your dogs? But what is to be done, old +man? Just see how these nestlings are growing up," and she pointed +to the girls. "You must look for husbands for them whether you like it +or not...." + +"Well," said she, "how's my Cossack?" (Marya Dmitrievna always called +Natasha a Cossack) and she stroked the child's arm as she came up +fearless and gay to kiss her hand. "I know she's a scamp of a girl, +but I like her." + +She took a pair of pear-shaped ruby earrings from her huge +reticule and, having given them to the rosy Natasha, who beamed with +the pleasure of her saint's-day fete, turned away at once and +addressed herself to Pierre. + +"Eh, eh, friend! Come here a bit," said she, assuming a soft high +tone of voice. "Come here, my friend..." and she ominously tucked up +her sleeves still higher. Pierre approached, looking at her in a +childlike way through his spectacles. + +"Come nearer, come nearer, friend! I used to be the only one to tell +your father the truth when he was in favor, and in your case it's my +evident duty." She paused. All were silent, expectant of what was to +follow, for this was dearly only a prelude. + +"A fine lad! My word! A fine lad!... His father lies on his deathbed +and he amuses himself setting a policeman astride a bear! For shame, +sir, for shame! It would be better if you went to the war." + +She turned away and gave her hand to the count, who could hardly +keep from laughing. + +"Well, I suppose it is time we were at table?" said Marya +Dmitrievna. + +The count went in first with Marya Dmitrievna, the countess followed +on the arm of a colonel of hussars, a man of importance to them +because Nicholas was to go with him to the regiment; then came Anna +Mikhaylovna with Shinshin. Berg gave his arm to Vera. The smiling +Julie Karagina went in with Nicholas. After them other couples +followed, filling the whole dining hall, and last of all the children, +tutors, and governesses followed singly. The footmen began moving +about, chairs scraped, the band struck up in the gallery, and the +guests settled down in their places. Then the strains of the count's +household band were replaced by the clatter of knives and forks, the +voices of visitors, and the soft steps of the footmen. At one end of +the table sat the countess with Marya Dmitrievna on her right and Anna +Mikhaylovna on her left, the other lady visitors were farther down. At +the other end sat the count, with the hussar colonel on his left and +Shinshin and the other male visitors on his right. Midway down the +long table on one side sat the grownup young people: Vera beside Berg, +and Pierre beside Boris; and on the other side, the children, +tutors, and governesses. From behind the crystal decanters and fruit +vases the count kept glancing at his wife and her tall cap with its +light-blue ribbons, and busily filled his neighbors' glasses, not +neglecting his own. The countess in turn, without omitting her +duties as hostess, threw significant glances from behind the +pineapples at her husband whose face and bald head seemed by their +redness to contrast more than usual with his gray hair. At the ladies' +end an even chatter of voices was heard all the time, at the men's end +the voices sounded louder and louder, especially that of the colonel +of hussars who, growing more and more flushed, ate and drank so much +that the count held him up as a pattern to the other guests. Berg with +tender smiles was saying to Vera that love is not an earthly but a +heavenly feeling. Boris was telling his new friend Pierre who the +guests were and exchanging glances with Natasha, who was sitting +opposite. Pierre spoke little but examined the new faces, and ate a +great deal. Of the two soups he chose turtle with savory patties and +went on to the game without omitting a single dish or one of the +wines. These latter the butler thrust mysteriously forward, wrapped in +a napkin, from behind the next man's shoulders and whispered: "Dry +Madeira"... "Hungarian"... or "Rhine wine" as the case might be. Of +the four crystal glasses engraved with the count's monogram that stood +before his plate, Pierre held out one at random and drank with +enjoyment, gazing with ever-increasing amiability at the other guests. +Natasha, who sat opposite, was looking at Boris as girls of thirteen +look at the boy they are in love with and have just kissed for the +first time. Sometimes that same look fell on Pierre, and that funny +lively little girl's look made him inclined to laugh without knowing +why. + +Nicholas sat at some distance from Sonya, beside Julie Karagina, +to whom he was again talking with the same involuntary smile. Sonya +wore a company smile but was evidently tormented by jealousy; now +she turned pale, now blushed and strained every nerve to overhear what +Nicholas and Julie were saying to one another. The governess kept +looking round uneasily as if preparing to resent any slight that might +be put upon the children. The German tutor was trying to remember +all the dishes, wines, and kinds of dessert, in order to send a full +description of the dinner to his people in Germany; and he felt +greatly offended when the butler with a bottle wrapped in a napkin +passed him by. He frowned, trying to appear as if he did not want +any of that wine, but was mortified because no one would understand +that it was not to quench his thirst or from greediness that he wanted +it, but simply from a conscientious desire for knowledge. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +At the men's end of the table the talk grew more and more +animated. The colonel told them that the declaration of war had +already appeared in Petersburg and that a copy, which he had himself +seen, had that day been forwarded by courier to the commander in +chief. + +"And why the deuce are we going to fight Bonaparte?" remarked +Shinshin. "He has stopped Austria's cackle and I fear it will be our +turn next." + +The colonel was a stout, tall, plethoric German, evidently devoted +to the service and patriotically Russian. He resented Shinshin's +remark. + +"It is for the reasson, my goot sir," said he, speaking with a +German accent, "for the reasson zat ze Emperor knows zat. He +declares in ze manifessto zat he cannot fiew wiz indifference ze +danger vreatening Russia and zat ze safety and dignity of ze Empire as +vell as ze sanctity of its alliances..." he spoke this last word +with particular emphasis as if in it lay the gist of the matter. + +Then with the unerring official memory that characterized him he +repeated from the opening words of the manifesto: + +... and the wish, which constitutes the Emperor's sole and +absolute aim--to establish peace in Europe on firm foundations--has +now decided him to despatch part of the army abroad and to create a +new condition for the attainment of that purpose. + +"Zat, my dear sir, is vy..." he concluded, drinking a tumbler of +wine with dignity and looking to the count for approval. + +"Connaissez-vous le Proverbe:* 'Jerome, Jerome, do not roam, but +turn spindles at home!'?" said Shinshin, puckering his brows and +smiling. "Cela nous convient a merveille.*[2] Suvorov now--he knew +what he was about; yet they beat him a plate couture,*[3] and where +are we to find Suvorovs now? Je vous demande un peu,"*[4] said he, +continually changing from French to Russian. + + +*Do you know the proverb? + +*[2] That suits us down to the ground. + +*[3] Hollow. + +*[4] I just ask you that. + + +"Ve must vight to the last tr-r-op of our plood!" said the +colonel, thumping the table; "and ve must tie for our Emperor, and zen +all vill pe vell. And ve must discuss it as little as po-o-ossible"... +he dwelt particularly on the word possible... "as po-o-ossible," he +ended, again turning to the count. "Zat is how ve old hussars look +at it, and zere's an end of it! And how do you, a young man and a +young hussar, how do you judge of it?" he added, addressing +Nicholas, who when he heard that the war was being discussed had +turned from his partner with eyes and ears intent on the colonel. + +"I am quite of your opinion," replied Nicholas, flaming up, +turning his plate round and moving his wineglasses about with as +much decision and desperation as though he were at that moment +facing some great danger. "I am convinced that we Russians must die or +conquer," he concluded, conscious--as were others--after the words +were uttered that his remarks were too enthusiastic and emphatic for +the occasion and were therefore awkward. + +"What you said just now was splendid!" said his partner Julie. + +Sonya trembled all over and blushed to her ears and behind them +and down to her neck and shoulders while Nicholas was speaking. + +Pierre listened to the colonel's speech and nodded approvingly. + +"That's fine," said he. + +"The young man's a real hussar!" shouted the colonel, again thumping +the table. + +"What are you making such a noise about over there?" Marya +Dmitrievna's deep voice suddenly inquired from the other end of the +table. "What are you thumping the table for?" she demanded of the +hussar, "and why are you exciting yourself? Do you think the French +are here?" + +"I am speaking ze truce," replied the hussar with a smile. + +"It's all about the war," the count shouted down the table. "You +know my son's going, Marya Dmitrievna? My son is going." + +"I have four sons in the army but still I don't fret. It is all in +God's hands. You may die in your bed or God may spare you in a +battle," replied Marya Dmitrievna's deep voice, which easily carried +the whole length of the table. + +"That's true!" + +Once more the conversations concentrated, the ladies' at the one end +and the men's at the other. + +"You won't ask," Natasha's little brother was saying; "I know you +won't ask!" + +"I will," replied Natasha. + +Her face suddenly flushed with reckless and joyous resolution. She +half rose, by a glance inviting Pierre, who sat opposite, to listen to +what was coming, and turning to her mother: + +"Mamma!" rang out the clear contralto notes of her childish voice, +audible the whole length of the table. + +"What is it?" asked the countess, startled; but seeing by her +daughter's face that it was only mischief, she shook a finger at her +sternly with a threatening and forbidding movement of her head. + +The conversation was hushed. + +"Mamma! What sweets are we going to have?" and Natasha's voice +sounded still more firm and resolute. + +The countess tried to frown, but could not. Marya Dmitrievna shook +her fat finger. + +"Cossack!" she said threateningly. + +Most of the guests, uncertain how to regard this sally, looked at +the elders. + +"You had better take care!" said the countess. + +"Mamma! What sweets are we going to have?" Natasha again cried +boldly, with saucy gaiety, confident that her prank would be taken +in good part. + +Sonya and fat little Petya doubled up with laughter. + +"You see! I have asked," whispered Natasha to her little brother and +to Pierre, glancing at him again. + +"Ice pudding, but you won't get any," said Marya Dmitrievna. + +Natasha saw there was nothing to be afraid of and so she braved even +Marya Dmitrievna. + +"Marya Dmitrievna! What kind of ice pudding? I don't like ice +cream." + +"Carrot ices." + +"No! What kind, Marya Dmitrievna? What kind?" she almost screamed; +"I want to know!" + +Marya Dmitrievna and the countess burst out laughing, and all the +guests joined in. Everyone laughed, not at Marya Dmitrievna's answer +but at the incredible boldness and smartness of this little girl who +had dared to treat Marya Dmitrievna in this fashion. + +Natasha only desisted when she had been told that there would be +pineapple ice. Before the ices, champagne was served round. The band +again struck up, the count and countess kissed, and the guests, +leaving their seats, went up to "congratulate" the countess, and +reached across the table to clink glasses with the count, with the +children, and with one another. Again the footmen rushed about, chairs +scraped, and in the same order in which they had entered but with +redder faces, the guests returned to the drawing room and to the +count's study. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +The card tables were drawn out, sets made up for boston, and the +count's visitors settled themselves, some in the two drawing rooms, +some in the sitting room, some in the library. + +The count, holding his cards fanwise, kept himself with difficulty +from dropping into his usual after-dinner nap, and laughed at +everything. The young people, at the countess' instigation, gathered +round the clavichord and harp. Julie by general request played +first. After she had played a little air with variations on the +harp, she joined the other young ladies in begging Natasha and +Nicholas, who were noted for their musical talent, to sing +something. Natasha, who was treated as though she were grown up, was +evidently very proud of this but at the same time felt shy. + +"What shall we sing?" she said. + +"'The Brook,'" suggested Nicholas. + +"Well, then, let's be quick. Boris, come here," said Natasha. "But +where is Sonya?" + +She looked round and seeing that her friend was not in the room +ran to look for her. + +Running into Sonya's room and not finding her there, Natasha ran +to the nursery, but Sonya was not there either. Natasha concluded that +she must be on the chest in the passage. The chest in the passage +was the place of mourning for the younger female generation in the +Rostov household. And there in fact was Sonya lying face downward on +Nurse's dirty feather bed on the top of the chest, crumpling her gauzy +pink dress under her, hiding her face with her slender fingers, and +sobbing so convulsively that her bare little shoulders shook. +Natasha's face, which had been so radiantly happy all that saint's +day, suddenly changed: her eyes became fixed, and then a shiver passed +down her broad neck and the corners of her mouth drooped. + +"Sonya! What is it? What is the matter?... Oo... Oo... Oo...!" And +Natasha's large mouth widened, making her look quite ugly, and she +began to wail like a baby without knowing why, except that Sonya was +crying. Sonya tried to lift her head to answer but could not, and +hid her face still deeper in the bed. Natasha wept, sitting on the +blue-striped feather bed and hugging her friend. With an effort +Sonya sat up and began wiping her eyes and explaining. + +"Nicholas is going away in a week's time, his... papers... have +come... he told me himself... but still I should not cry," and she +showed a paper she held in her hand--with the verses Nicholas had +written, "still, I should not cry, but you can't... no one can +understand... what a soul he has!" + +And she began to cry again because he had such a noble soul. + +"It's all very well for you... I am not envious... I love you and +Boris also," she went on, gaining a little strength; "he is nice... +there are no difficulties in your way.... But Nicholas is my cousin... +one would have to... the Metropolitan himself... and even then it +can't be done. And besides, if she tells Mamma" (Sonya looked upon the +countess as her mother and called her so) "that I am spoiling +Nicholas' career and am heartless and ungrateful, while truly... God +is my witness," and she made the sign of the cross, "I love her so +much, and all of you, only Vera... And what for? What have I done to +her? I am so grateful to you that I would willingly sacrifice +everything, only I have nothing...." + +Sonya could not continue, and again hid her face in her hands and in +the feather bed. Natasha began consoling her, but her face showed that +she understood all the gravity of her friend's trouble. + +"Sonya," she suddenly exclaimed, as if she had guessed the true +reason of her friend's sorrow, "I'm sure Vera has said something to +you since dinner? Hasn't she?" + +"Yes, these verses Nicholas wrote himself and I copied some +others, and she found them on my table and said she'd show them to +Mamma, and that I was ungrateful, and that Mamma would never allow him +to marry me, but that he'll marry Julie. You see how he's been with +her all day... Natasha, what have I done to deserve it?..." + +And again she began to sob, more bitterly than before. Natasha +lifted her up, hugged her, and, smiling through her tears, began +comforting her. + +"Sonya, don't believe her, darling! Don't believe her! Do you +remember how we and Nicholas, all three of us, talked in the sitting +room after supper? Why, we settled how everything was to be. I don't +quite remember how, but don't you remember that it could all be +arranged and how nice it all was? There's Uncle Shinshin's brother has +married his first cousin. And we are only second cousins, you know. +And Boris says it is quite possible. You know I have told him all +about it. And he is so clever and so good!" said Natasha. "Don't you +cry, Sonya, dear love, darling Sonya!" and she kissed her and laughed. +"Vera's spiteful; never mind her! And all will come right and she +won't say anything to Mamma. Nicholas will tell her himself, and he +doesn't care at all for Julie." + +Natasha kissed her on the hair. + +Sonya sat up. The little kitten brightened, its eyes shone, and it +seemed ready to lift its tail, jump down on its soft paws, and begin +playing with the ball of worsted as a kitten should. + +"Do you think so?... Really? Truly?" she said, quickly smoothing her +frock and hair. + +"Really, truly!" answered Natasha, pushing in a crisp lock that +had strayed from under her friend's plaits. + +Both laughed. + +"Well, let's go and sing 'The Brook.'" + +"Come along!" + +"Do you know, that fat Pierre who sat opposite me is so funny!" said +Natasha, stopping suddenly. "I feel so happy!" + +And she set off at a run along the passage. + +Sonya, shaking off some down which clung to her and tucking away the +verses in the bosom of her dress close to her bony little chest, ran +after Natasha down the passage into the sitting room with flushed face +and light, joyous steps. At the visitors' request the young people +sang the quartette, "The Brook," with which everyone was delighted. +Then Nicholas sang a song he had just learned: + + + At nighttime in the moon's fair glow + How sweet, as fancies wander free, + To feel that in this world there's one + Who still is thinking but of thee! + + That while her fingers touch the harp + Wafting sweet music music the lea, + It is for thee thus swells her heart, + Sighing its message out to thee... + + A day or two, then bliss unspoilt, + But oh! till then I cannot live!... + + +He had not finished the last verse before the young people began +to get ready to dance in the large hall, and the sound of the feet and +the coughing of the musicians were heard from the gallery. + + +Pierre was sitting in the drawing-room where Shinshin had engaged +him, as a man recently returned from abroad, in a political +conversation in which several others joined but which bored Pierre. +When the music began Natasha came in and walking straight up to Pierre +said, laughing and blushing: + +"Mamma told me to ask you to join the dancers." + +"I am afraid of mixing the figures," Pierre replied; "but if you +will be my teacher..." And lowering his big arm he offered it to the +slender little girl. + +While the couples were arranging themselves and the musicians tuning +up, Pierre sat down with his little partner. Natasha was perfectly +happy; she was dancing with a grown-up man, who had been abroad. She +was sitting in a conspicuous place and talking to him like a +grown-up lady. She had a fan in her hand that one of the ladies had +given her to hold. Assuming quite the pose of a society woman +(heaven knows when and where she had learned it) she talked with her +partner, fanning herself and smiling over the fan. + +"Dear, dear! Just look at her!" exclaimed the countess as she +crossed the ballroom, pointing to Natasha. + +Natasha blushed and laughed. + +"Well, really, Mamma! Why should you? What is there to be +surprised at?" + + +In the midst of the third ecossaise there was a clatter of chairs +being pushed back in the sitting room where the count and Marya +Dmitrievna had been playing cards with the majority of the more +distinguished and older visitors. They now, stretching themselves +after sitting so long, and replacing their purses and pocketbooks, +entered the ballroom. First came Marya Dmitrievna and the count, +both with merry countenances. The count, with playful ceremony +somewhat in ballet style, offered his bent arm to Marya Dmitrievna. He +drew himself up, a smile of debonair gallantry lit up his face and +as soon as the last figure of the ecossaise was ended, he clapped +his hands to the musicians and shouted up to their gallery, addressing +the first violin: + +"Semen! Do you know the Daniel Cooper?" + +This was the count's favorite dance, which he had danced in his +youth. (Strictly speaking, Daniel Cooper was one figure of the +anglaise.) + +"Look at Papa!" shouted Natasha to the whole company, and quite +forgetting that she was dancing with a grown-up partner she bent her +curly head to her knees and made the whole room ring with her +laughter. + +And indeed everybody in the room looked with a smile of pleasure +at the jovial old gentleman, who standing beside his tall and stout +partner, Marya Dmitrievna, curved his arms, beat time, straightened +his shoulders, turned out his toes, tapped gently with his foot, +and, by a smile that broadened his round face more and more, +prepared the onlookers for what was to follow. As soon as the +provocatively gay strains of Daniel Cooper (somewhat resembling +those of a merry peasant dance) began to sound, all the doorways of +the ballroom were suddenly filled by the domestic serfs--the men on +one side and the women on the other--who with beaming faces had come +to see their master making merry. + +"Just look at the master! A regular eagle he is!" loudly remarked +the nurse, as she stood in one of the doorways. + +The count danced well and knew it. But his partner could not and did +not want to dance well. Her enormous figure stood erect, her +powerful arms hanging down (she had handed her reticule to the +countess), and only her stern but handsome face really joined in the +dance. What was expressed by the whole of the count's plump figure, in +Marya Dmitrievna found expression only in her more and more beaming +face and quivering nose. But if the count, getting more and more +into the swing of it, charmed the spectators by the unexpectedness +of his adroit maneuvers and the agility with which he capered about on +his light feet, Marya Dmitrievna produced no less impression by slight +exertions--the least effort to move her shoulders or bend her arms +when turning, or stamp her foot--which everyone appreciated in view of +her size and habitual severity. The dance grew livelier and +livelier. The other couples could not attract a moment's attention +to their own evolutions and did not even try to do so. All were +watching the count and Marya Dmitrievna. Natasha kept pulling everyone +by sleeve or dress, urging them to "look at Papa!" though as it was +they never took their eyes off the couple. In the intervals of the +dance the count, breathing deeply, waved and shouted to the +musicians to play faster. Faster, faster, and faster; lightly, more +lightly, and yet more lightly whirled the count, flying round Marya +Dmitrievna, now on his toes, now on his heels; until, turning his +partner round to her seat, he executed the final pas, raising his soft +foot backwards, bowing his perspiring head, smiling and making a +wide sweep with his arm, amid a thunder of applause and laughter led +by Natasha. Both partners stood still, breathing heavily and wiping +their faces with their cambric handkerchiefs. + +"That's how we used to dance in our time, ma chere," said the count. + +"That was a Daniel Cooper!" exclaimed Marya Dmitrievna, tucking up +her sleeves and puffing heavily. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +While in the Rostovs' ballroom the sixth anglaise was being +danced, to a tune in which the weary musicians blundered, and while +tired footmen and cooks were getting the supper, Count Bezukhov had +a sixth stroke. The doctors pronounced recovery impossible. After a +mute confession, communion was administered to the dying man, +preparations made for the sacrament of unction, and in his house there +was the bustle and thrill of suspense usual at such moments. Outside +the house, beyond the gates, a group of undertakers, who hid +whenever a carriage drove up, waited in expectation of an important +order for an expensive funeral. The Military Governor of Moscow, who +had been assiduous in sending aides-de-camp to inquire after the +count's health, came himself that evening to bid a last farewell to +the celebrated grandee of Catherine's court, Count Bezukhov. + +The magnificent reception room was crowded. Everyone stood up +respectfully when the Military Governor, having stayed about half an +hour alone with the dying man, passed out, slightly acknowledging +their bows and trying to escape as quickly as from the glances fixed +on him by the doctors, clergy, and relatives of the family. Prince +Vasili, who had grown thinner and paler during the last few days, +escorted him to the door, repeating something to him several times +in low tones. + +When the Military Governor had gone, Prince Vasili sat down all +alone on a chair in the ballroom, crossing one leg high over the +other, leaning his elbow on his knee and covering his face with his +hand. After sitting so for a while he rose, and, looking about him +with frightened eyes, went with unusually hurried steps down the +long corridor leading to the back of the house, to the room of the +eldest princess. + +Those who were in the dimly lit reception room spoke in nervous +whispers, and, whenever anyone went into or came from the dying +man's room, grew silent and gazed with eyes full of curiosity or +expectancy at his door, which creaked slightly when opened. + +"The limits of human life... are fixed and may not be o'erpassed," +said an old priest to a lady who had taken a seat beside him and was +listening naively to his words. + +"I wonder, is it not too late to administer unction?" asked the +lady, adding the priest's clerical title, as if she had no opinion +of her own on the subject. + +"Ah, madam, it is a great sacrament," replied the priest, passing +his hand over the thin grizzled strands of hair combed back across his +bald head. + +"Who was that? The Military Governor himself?" was being asked at +the other side of the room. "How young-looking he is!" + +"Yes, and he is over sixty. I hear the count no longer recognizes +anyone. They wished to administer the sacrament of unction." + +"I knew someone who received that sacrament seven times." + +The second princess had just come from the sickroom with her eyes +red from weeping and sat down beside Dr. Lorrain, who was sitting in a +graceful pose under a portrait of Catherine, leaning his elbow on a +table. + +"Beautiful," said the doctor in answer to a remark about the +weather. "The weather is beautiful, Princess; and besides, in Moscow +one feels as if one were in the country." + +"Yes, indeed," replied the princess with a sigh. "So he may have +something to drink?" + +Lorrain considered. + +"Has he taken his medicine?" + +"Yes." + +The doctor glanced at his watch. + +"Take a glass of boiled water and put a pinch of cream of tartar," +and he indicated with his delicate fingers what he meant by a pinch. + +"Dere has neffer been a gase," a German doctor was saying to an +aide-de-camp, "dat one liffs after de sird stroke." + +"And what a well-preserved man he was!" remarked the aide-de-camp. +"And who will inherit his wealth?" he added in a whisper. + +"It von't go begging," replied the German with a smile. + +Everyone again looked toward the door, which creaked as the second +princess went in with the drink she had prepared according to +Lorrain's instructions. The German doctor went up to Lorrain. + +"Do you think he can last till morning?" asked the German, +addressing Lorrain in French which he pronounced badly. + +Lorrain, pursing up his lips, waved a severely negative finger +before his nose. + +"Tonight, not later," said he in a low voice, and he moved away with +a decorous smile of self-satisfaction at being able clearly to +understand and state the patient's condition. + + +Meanwhile Prince Vasili had opened the door into the princess' room. + +In this room it was almost dark; only two tiny lamps were burning +before the icons and there was a pleasant scent of flowers and burnt +pastilles. The room was crowded with small pieces of furniture, +whatnots, cupboards, and little tables. The quilt of a high, white +feather bed was just visible behind a screen. A small dog began to +bark. + +"Ah, is it you, cousin?" + +She rose and smoothed her hair, which was as usual so extremely +smooth that it seemed to be made of one piece with her head and +covered with varnish. + +"Has anything happened?" she asked. "I am so terrified." + +"No, there is no change. I only came to have a talk about +business, Catiche,"* muttered the prince, seating himself wearily on +the chair she had just vacated. "You have made the place warm, I +must say," he remarked. "Well, sit down: let's have a talk." + + +*Catherine. + + +"I thought perhaps something had happened," she said with her +unchanging stonily severe expression; and, sitting down opposite the +prince, she prepared to listen. + +"I wished to get a nap, mon cousin, but I can't." + +"Well, my dear?" said Prince Vasili, taking her hand and bending +it downwards as was his habit. + +It was plain that this "well?" referred to much that they both +understood without naming. + +The princess, who had a straight, rigid body, abnormally long for +her legs, looked directly at Prince Vasili with no sign of emotion +in her prominent gray eyes. Then she shook her head and glanced up +at the icons with a sigh. This might have been taken as an +expression of sorrow and devotion, or of weariness and hope of resting +before long. Prince Vasili understood it as an expression of +weariness. + +"And I?" he said; "do you think it is easier for me? I am as worn +out as a post horse, but still I must have a talk with you, Catiche, a +very serious talk." + +Prince Vasili said no more and his cheeks began to twitch nervously, +now on one side, now on the other, giving his face an unpleasant +expression which was never to be seen on it in a drawing room. His +eyes too seemed strange; at one moment they looked impudently sly +and at the next glanced round in alarm. + +The princess, holding her little dog on her lap with her thin bony +hands, looked attentively into Prince Vasili's eyes evidently resolved +not to be the first to break silence, if she had to wait till morning. + +"Well, you see, my dear princess and cousin, Catherine Semenovna," +continued Prince Vasili, returning to his theme, apparently not +without an inner struggle; "at such a moment as this one must think of +everything. One must think of the future, of all of you... I love +you all, like children of my own, as you know." + +The princess continued to look at him without moving, and with the +same dull expression. + +"And then of course my family has also to be considered," Prince +Vasili went on, testily pushing away a little table without looking at +her. "You know, Catiche, that we--you three sisters, Mamontov, and +my wife--are the count's only direct heirs. I know, I know how hard it +is for you to talk or think of such matters. It is no easier for me; +but, my dear, I am getting on for sixty and must be prepared for +anything. Do you know I have sent for Pierre? The count," pointing +to his portrait, "definitely demanded that he should be called." + +Prince Vasili looked questioningly at the princess, but could not +make out whether she was considering what he had just said or +whether she was simply looking at him. + +"There is one thing I constantly pray God to grant, mon cousin," she +replied, "and it is that He would be merciful to him and would allow +his noble soul peacefully to leave this..." + +"Yes, yes, of course," interrupted Prince Vasili impatiently, +rubbing his bald head and angrily pulling back toward him the little +table that he had pushed away. "But... in short, the fact is... you +know yourself that last winter the count made a will by which he +left all his property, not to us his direct heirs, but to Pierre." + +"He has made wills enough!" quietly remarked the princess. "But he +cannot leave the estate to Pierre. Pierre is illegitimate." + +"But, my dear," said Prince Vasili suddenly, clutching the little +table and becoming more animated and talking more rapidly: "what if +a letter has been written to the Emperor in which the count asks for +Pierre's legitimation? Do you understand that in consideration of +the count's services, his request would be granted?..." + +The princess smiled as people do who think they know more about +the subject under discussion than those they are talking with. + +"I can tell you more," continued Prince Vasili, seizing her hand, +"that letter was written, though it was not sent, and the Emperor knew +of it. The only question is, has it been destroyed or not? If not, +then as soon as all is over," and Prince Vasili sighed to intimate +what he meant by the words all is over, "and the count's papers are +opened, the will and letter will be delivered to the Emperor, and +the petition will certainly be granted. Pierre will get everything +as the legitimate son." + +"And our share?" asked the princess smiling ironically, as if +anything might happen, only not that. + +"But, my poor Catiche, it is as clear as daylight! He will then be +the legal heir to everything and you won't get anything. You must +know, my dear, whether the will and letter were written, and whether +they have been destroyed or not. And if they have somehow been +overlooked, you ought to know where they are, and must find them, +because..." + +"What next?" the princess interrupted, smiling sardonically and +not changing the expression of her eyes. "I am a woman, and you +think we are all stupid; but I know this: an illegitimate son cannot +inherit... un batard!"* she added, as if supposing that this +translation of the word would effectively prove to Prince Vasili the +invalidity of his contention. + + +*A bastard. + + +"Well, really, Catiche! Can't you understand! You are so +intelligent, how is it you don't see that if the count has written a +letter to the Emperor begging him to recognize Pierre as legitimate, +it follows that Pierre will not be Pierre but will become Count +Bezukhov, and will then inherit everything under the will? And if +the will and letter are not destroyed, then you will have nothing +but the consolation of having been dutiful et tout ce qui s'ensuit!* +That's certain." + + +*And all that follows therefrom. + + +"I know the will was made, but I also know that it is invalid; and +you, mon cousin, seem to consider me a perfect fool," said the +princess with the expression women assume when they suppose they are +saying something witty and stinging. + +"My dear Princess Catherine Semenovna," began Prince Vasili +impatiently, "I came here not to wrangle with you, but to talk about +your interests as with a kinswoman, a good, kind, true relation. And I +tell you for the tenth time that if the letter to the Emperor and +the will in Pierre's favor are among the count's papers, then, my dear +girl, you and your sisters are not heiresses! If you don't believe me, +then believe an expert. I have just been talking to Dmitri Onufrich" +(the family solicitor) "and he says the same." + +At this a sudden change evidently took place in the princess' ideas; +her thin lips grew white, though her eyes did not change, and her +voice when she began to speak passed through such transitions as she +herself evidently did not expect. + +"That would be a fine thing!" said she. "I never wanted anything and +I don't now." + +She pushed the little dog off her lap and smoothed her dress. + +"And this is gratitude--this is recognition for those who have +sacrificed everything for his sake!" she cried. "It's splendid! +Fine! I don't want anything, Prince." + +"Yes, but you are not the only one. There are your sisters..." +replied Prince Vasili. + +But the princess did not listen to him. + +"Yes, I knew it long ago but had forgotten. I knew that I could +expect nothing but meanness, deceit, envy, intrigue, and +ingratitude--the blackest ingratitude--in this house..." + +"Do you or do you not know where that will is?" insisted Prince +Vasili, his cheeks twitching more than ever. + +"Yes, I was a fool! I still believed in people, loved them, and +sacrificed myself. But only the base, the vile succeed! I know who has +been intriguing!" + +The princess wished to rise, but the prince held her by the hand. +She had the air of one who has suddenly lost faith in the whole +human race. She gave her companion an angry glance. + +"There is still time, my dear. You must remember, Catiche, that it +was all done casually in a moment of anger, of illness, and was +afterwards forgotten. Our duty, my dear, is to rectify his mistake, to +ease his last moments by not letting him commit this injustice, and +not to let him die feeling that he is rendering unhappy those who..." + +"Who sacrificed everything for him," chimed in the princess, who +would again have risen had not the prince still held her fast, "though +he never could appreciate it. No, mon cousin," she added with a +sigh, "I shall always remember that in this world one must expect no +reward, that in this world there is neither honor nor justice. In this +world one has to be cunning and cruel." + +"Now come, come! Be reasonable. I know your excellent heart." + +"No, I have a wicked heart." + +"I know your heart," repeated the prince. "I value your friendship +and wish you to have as good an opinion of me. Don't upset yourself, +and let us talk sensibly while there is still time, be it a day or +be it but an hour.... Tell me all you know about the will, and above +all where it is. You must know. We will take it at once and show it to +the count. He has, no doubt, forgotten it and will wish to destroy it. +You understand that my sole desire is conscientiously to carry out his +wishes; that is my only reason for being here. I came simply to help +him and you." + +"Now I see it all! I know who has been intriguing--I know!" cried +the princess. + +"That's not the point, my dear." + +"It's that protege of yours, that sweet Princess Drubetskaya, that +Anna Mikhaylovna whom I would not take for a housemaid... the +infamous, vile woman!" + +"Do not let us lose any time..." + +"Ah, don't talk to me! Last winter she wheedled herself in here +and told the count such vile, disgraceful things about us, +especially about Sophie--I can't repeat them--that it made the count +quite ill and he would not see us for a whole fortnight. I know it was +then he wrote this vile, infamous paper, but I thought the thing was +invalid." + +"We've got to it at last--why did you not tell me about it sooner?" + +"It's in the inlaid portfolio that he keeps under his pillow," +said the princess, ignoring his question. "Now I know! Yes; if I +have a sin, a great sin, it is hatred of that vile woman!" almost +shrieked the princess, now quite changed. "And what does she come +worming herself in here for? But I will give her a piece of my mind. +The time will come!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +While these conversations were going on in the reception room and +the princess' room, a carriage containing Pierre (who had been sent +for) and Anna Mikhaylovna (who found it necessary to accompany him) +was driving into the court of Count Bezukhov's house. As the wheels +rolled softly over the straw beneath the windows, Anna Mikhaylovna, +having turned with words of comfort to her companion, realized that he +was asleep in his corner and woke him up. Rousing himself, Pierre +followed Anna Mikhaylovna out of the carriage, and only then began +to think of the interview with his dying father which awaited him. +He noticed that they had not come to the front entrance but to the +back door. While he was getting down from the carriage steps two +men, who looked like tradespeople, ran hurriedly from the entrance and +hid in the shadow of the wall. Pausing for a moment, Pierre noticed +several other men of the same kind hiding in the shadow of the house +on both sides. But neither Anna Mikhaylovna nor the footman nor the +coachman, who could not help seeing these people, took any notice of +them. "It seems to be all right," Pierre concluded, and followed +Anna Mikhaylovna. She hurriedly ascended the narrow dimly lit stone +staircase, calling to Pierre, who was lagging behind, to follow. +Though he did not see why it was necessary for him to go to the +count at all, still less why he had to go by the back stairs, yet +judging by Anna Mikhaylovna's air of assurance and haste, Pierre +concluded that it was all absolutely necessary. Halfway up the +stairs they were almost knocked over by some men who, carrying +pails, came running downstairs, their boots clattering. These men +pressed close to the wall to let Pierre and Anna Mikhaylovna pass +and did not evince the least surprise at seeing them there. + +"Is this the way to the princesses' apartments?" asked Anna +Mikhaylovna of one of them. + +"Yes," replied a footman in a bold loud voice, as if anything were +now permissible; "the door to the left, ma'am." + +"Perhaps the count did not ask for me," said Pierre when he +reached the landing. "I'd better go to my own room." + +Anna Mikhaylovna paused and waited for him to come up. + +"Ah, my friend!" she said, touching his arm as she had done her +son's when speaking to him that afternoon, "believe me I suffer no +less than you do, but be a man!" + +"But really, hadn't I better go away?" he asked, looking kindly at +her over his spectacles. + +"Ah, my dear friend! Forget the wrongs that may have been done +you. Think that he is your father... perhaps in the agony of death." +She sighed. "I have loved you like a son from the first. Trust +yourself to me, Pierre. I shall not forget your interests." + +Pierre did not understand a word, but the conviction that all this +had to be grew stronger, and he meekly followed Anna Mikhaylovna who +was already opening a door. + +This door led into a back anteroom. An old man, a servant of the +princesses, sat in a corner knitting a stocking. Pierre had never been +in this part of the house and did not even know of the existence of +these rooms. Anna Mikhaylovna, addressing a maid who was hurrying past +with a decanter on a tray as "my dear" and "my sweet," asked about the +princess' health and then led Pierre along a stone passage. The +first door on the left led into the princesses' apartments. The maid +with the decanter in her haste had not closed the door (everything +in the house was done in haste at that time), and Pierre and Anna +Mikhaylovna in passing instinctively glanced into the room, where +Prince Vasili and the eldest princess were sitting close together +talking. Seeing them pass, Prince Vasili drew back with obvious +impatience, while the princess jumped up and with a gesture of +desperation slammed the door with all her might. + +This action was so unlike her usual composure and the fear +depicted on Prince Vasili's face so out of keeping with his dignity +that Pierre stopped and glanced inquiringly over his spectacles at his +guide. Anna Mikhaylovna evinced no surprise, she only smiled faintly +and sighed, as if to say that this was no more than she had expected. + +"Be a man, my friend. I will look after your interests," said she in +reply to his look, and went still faster along the passage. + +Pierre could not make out what it was all about, and still less what +"watching over his interests" meant, but he decided that all these +things had to be. From the passage they went into a large, dimly lit +room adjoining the count's reception room. It was one of those +sumptuous but cold apartments known to Pierre only from the front +approach, but even in this room there now stood an empty bath, and +water had been spilled on the carpet. They were met by a deacon with a +censer and by a servant who passed out on tiptoe without heeding them. +They went into the reception room familiar to Pierre, with two Italian +windows opening into the conservatory, with its large bust and full +length portrait of Catherine the Great. The same people were still +sitting here in almost the same positions as before, whispering to one +another. All became silent and turned to look at the pale tear-worn +Anna Mikhaylovna as she entered, and at the big stout figure of Pierre +who, hanging his head, meekly followed her. + +Anna Mikhaylovna's face expressed a consciousness that the +decisive moment had arrived. With the air of a practical Petersburg +lady she now, keeping Pierre close beside her, entered the room even +more boldly than that afternoon. She felt that as she brought with her +the person the dying man wished to see, her own admission was assured. +Casting a rapid glance at all those in the room and noticing the +count's confessor there, she glided up to him with a sort of amble, +not exactly bowing yet seeming to grow suddenly smaller, and +respectfully received the blessing first of one and then of another +priest. + +"God be thanked that you are in time," said she to one of the +priests; "all we relatives have been in such anxiety. This young man +is the count's son," she added more softly. "What a terrible moment!" + +Having said this she went up to the doctor. + +"Dear doctor," said she, "this young man is the count's son. Is +there any hope?" + +The doctor cast a rapid glance upwards and silently shrugged his +shoulders. Anna Mikhaylovna with just the same movement raised her +shoulders and eyes, almost closing the latter, sighed, and moved +away from the doctor to Pierre. To him, in a particularly respectful +and tenderly sad voice, she said: + +"Trust in His mercy!" and pointing out a small sofa for him to sit +and wait for her, she went silently toward the door that everyone +was watching and it creaked very slightly as she disappeared behind +it. + +Pierre, having made up his mind to obey his monitress implicitly, +moved toward the sofa she had indicated. As soon as Anna Mikhaylovna +had disappeared he noticed that the eyes of all in the room turned +to him with something more than curiosity and sympathy. He noticed +that they whispered to one another, casting significant looks at him +with a kind of awe and even servility. A deference such as he had +never before received was shown him. A strange lady, the one who had +been talking to the priests, rose and offered him her seat; an +aide-de-camp picked up and returned a glove Pierre had dropped; the +doctors became respectfully silent as he passed by, and moved to +make way for him. At first Pierre wished to take another seat so as +not to trouble the lady, and also to pick up the glove himself and +to pass round the doctors who were not even in his way; but all at +once he felt that this would not do, and that tonight he was a +person obliged to perform some sort of awful rite which everyone +expected of him, and that he was therefore bound to accept their +services. He took the glove in silence from the aide-de-camp, and +sat down in the lady's chair, placing his huge hands symmetrically +on his knees in the naive attitude of an Egyptian statue, and +decided in his own mind that all was as it should be, and that in +order not to lose his head and do foolish things he must not act on +his own ideas tonight, but must yield himself up entirely to the +will of those who were guiding him. + +Not two minutes had passed before Prince Vasili with head erect +majestically entered the room. He was wearing his long coat with three +stars on his breast. He seemed to have grown thinner since the +morning; his eyes seemed larger than usual when he glanced round and +noticed Pierre. He went up to him, took his hand (a thing he never +used to do), and drew it downwards as if wishing to ascertain +whether it was firmly fixed on. + +"Courage, courage, my friend! He has asked to see you. That is +well!" and he turned to go. + +But Pierre thought it necessary to ask: "How is..." and hesitated, +not knowing whether it would be proper to call the dying man "the +count," yet ashamed to call him "father." + +"He had another stroke about half an hour ago. Courage, my +friend..." + +Pierre's mind was in such a confused state that the word "stroke" +suggested to him a blow from something. He looked at Prince Vasili +in perplexity, and only later grasped that a stroke was an attack of +illness. Prince Vasili said something to Lorrain in passing and went +through the door on tiptoe. He could not walk well on tiptoe and his +whole body jerked at each step. The eldest princess followed him, +and the priests and deacons and some servants also went in at the +door. Through that door was heard a noise of things being moved about, +and at last Anna Mikhaylovna, still with the same expression, pale but +resolute in the discharge of duty, ran out and touching Pierre lightly +on the arm said: + +"The divine mercy is inexhaustible! Unction is about to be +administered. Come." + +Pierre went in at the door, stepping on the soft carpet, and noticed +that the strange lady, the aide-de-camp, and some of the servants, all +followed him in, as if there were now no further need for permission +to enter that room. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +Pierre well knew this large room divided by columns and an arch, its +walls hung round with Persian carpets. The part of the room behind the +columns, with a high silk-curtained mahogany bedstead on one side +and on the other an immense case containing icons, was brightly +illuminated with red light like a Russian church during evening +service. Under the gleaming icons stood a long invalid chair, and in +that chair on snowy-white smooth pillows, evidently freshly changed, +Pierre saw--covered to the waist by a bright green quilt--the +familiar, majestic figure of his father, Count Bezukhov, with that +gray mane of hair above his broad forehead which reminded one of a +lion, and the deep characteristically noble wrinkles of his +handsome, ruddy face. He lay just under the icons; his large thick +hands outside the quilt. Into the right hand, which was lying palm +downwards, a wax taper had been thrust between forefinger and thumb, +and an old servant, bending over from behind the chair, held it in +position. By the chair stood the priests, their long hair falling over +their magnificent glittering vestments, with lighted tapers in their +hands, slowly and solemnly conducting the service. A little behind +them stood the two younger princesses holding handkerchiefs to their +eyes, and just in front of them their eldest sister, Catiche, with a +vicious and determined look steadily fixed on the icons, as though +declaring to all that she could not answer for herself should she +glance round. Anna Mikhaylovna, with a meek, sorrowful, and +all-forgiving expression on her face, stood by the door near the +strange lady. Prince Vasili in front of the door, near the invalid +chair, a wax taper in his left hand, was leaning his left arm on the +carved back of a velvet chair he had turned round for the purpose, and +was crossing himself with his right hand, turning his eyes upward each +time he touched his forehead. His face wore a calm look of piety and +resignation to the will of God. "If you do not understand these +sentiments," he seemed to be saying, "so much the worse for you!" + +Behind him stood the aide-de-camp, the doctors, and the menservants; +the men and women had separated as in church. All were silently +crossing themselves, and the reading of the church service, the +subdued chanting of deep bass voices, and in the intervals sighs and +the shuffling of feet were the only sounds that could be heard. Anna +Mikhaylovna, with an air of importance that showed that she felt she +quite knew what she was about, went across the room to where Pierre +was standing and gave him a taper. He lit it and, distracted by +observing those around him, began crossing himself with the hand +that held the taper. + +Sophie, the rosy, laughter-loving, youngest princess with the +mole, watched him. She smiled, hid her face in her handkerchief, and +remained with it hidden for awhile; then looking up and seeing +Pierre she again began to laugh. She evidently felt unable to look +at him without laughing, but could not resist looking at him: so to be +out of temptation she slipped quietly behind one of the columns. In +the midst of the service the voices of the priests suddenly ceased, +they whispered to one another, and the old servant who was holding the +count's hand got up and said something to the ladies. Anna Mikhaylovna +stepped forward and, stooping over the dying man, beckoned to +Lorrain from behind her back. The French doctor held no taper; he +was leaning against one of the columns in a respectful attitude +implying that he, a foreigner, in spite of all differences of faith, +understood the full importance of the rite now being performed and +even approved of it. He now approached the sick man with the noiseless +step of one in full vigor of life, with his delicate white fingers +raised from the green quilt the hand that was free, and turning +sideways felt the pulse and reflected a moment. The sick man was given +something to drink, there was a stir around him, then the people +resumed their places and the service continued. During this interval +Pierre noticed that Prince Vasili left the chair on which he had +been leaning, and--with air which intimated that he knew what he was +about and if others did not understand him it was so much the worse +for them--did not go up to the dying man, but passed by him, joined +the eldest princess, and moved with her to the side of the room +where stood the high bedstead with its silken hangings. On leaving the +bed both Prince Vasili and the princess passed out by a back door, but +returned to their places one after the other before the service was +concluded. Pierre paid no more attention to this occurrence than to +the rest of what went on, having made up his mind once for all that +what he saw happening around him that evening was in some way +essential. + +The chanting of the service ceased, and the voice of the priest +was heard respectfully congratulating the dying man on having received +the sacrament. The dying man lay as lifeless and immovable as +before. Around him everyone began to stir: steps were audible and +whispers, among which Anna Mikhaylovna's was the most distinct. + +Pierre heard her say: + +"Certainly he must be moved onto the bed; here it will be +impossible..." + +The sick man was so surrounded by doctors, princesses, and +servants that Pierre could no longer see the reddish-yellow face +with its gray mane--which, though he saw other faces as well, he had +not lost sight of for a single moment during the whole service. He +judged by the cautious movements of those who crowded round the +invalid chair that they had lifted the dying man and were moving him. + +"Catch hold of my arm or you'll drop him!" he heard one of the +servants say in a frightened whisper. "Catch hold from underneath. +Here!" exclaimed different voices; and the heavy breathing of the +bearers and the shuffling of their feet grew more hurried, as if the +weight they were carrying were too much for them. + +As the bearers, among whom was Anna Mikhaylovna, passed the young +man he caught a momentary glimpse between their heads and backs of the +dying man's high, stout, uncovered chest and powerful shoulders, +raised by those who were holding him under the armpits, and of his +gray, curly, leonine head. This head, with its remarkably broad brow +and cheekbones, its handsome, sensual mouth, and its cold, majestic +expression, was not disfigured by the approach of death. It was the +same as Pierre remembered it three months before, when the count had +sent him to Petersburg. But now this head was swaying helplessly +with the uneven movements of the bearers, and the cold listless gaze +fixed itself upon nothing. + +After a few minutes' bustle beside the high bedstead, those who +had carried the sick man dispersed. Anna Mikhaylovna touched +Pierre's hand and said, "Come." Pierre went with her to the bed on +which the sick man had been laid in a stately pose in keeping with the +ceremony just completed. He lay with his head propped high on the +pillows. His hands were symmetrically placed on the green silk +quilt, the palms downward. When Pierre came up the count was gazing +straight at him, but with a look the significance of which could not +be understood by mortal man. Either this look meant nothing but that +as long as one has eyes they must look somewhere, or it meant too +much. Pierre hesitated, not knowing what to do, and glanced +inquiringly at his guide. Anna Mikhaylovna made a hurried sign with +her eyes, glancing at the sick man's hand and moving her lips as if to +send it a kiss. Pierre, carefully stretching his neck so as not to +touch the quilt, followed her suggestion and pressed his lips to the +large boned, fleshy hand. Neither the hand nor a single muscle of +the count's face stirred. Once more Pierre looked questioningly at +Anna Mikhaylovna to see what he was to do next. Anna Mikhaylovna +with her eyes indicated a chair that stood beside the bed. Pierre +obediently sat down, his eyes asking if he were doing right. Anna +Mikhaylovna nodded approvingly. Again Pierre fell into the naively +symmetrical pose of an Egyptian statue, evidently distressed that +his stout and clumsy body took up so much room and doing his utmost to +look as small as possible. He looked at the count, who still gazed +at the spot where Pierre's face had been before he sat down. Anna +Mikhaylovna indicated by her attitude her consciousness of the +pathetic importance of these last moments of meeting between the +father and son. This lasted about two minutes, which to Pierre +seemed an hour. Suddenly the broad muscles and lines of the count's +face began to twitch. The twitching increased, the handsome mouth +was drawn to one side (only now did Pierre realize how near death +his father was), and from that distorted mouth issued an indistinct, +hoarse sound. Anna Mikhaylovna looked attentively at the sick man's +eyes, trying to guess what he wanted; she pointed first to Pierre, +then to some drink, then named Prince Vasili in an inquiring +whisper, then pointed to the quilt. The eyes and face of the sick +man showed impatience. He made an effort to look at the servant who +stood constantly at the head of the bed. + +"Wants to turn on the other side," whispered the servant, and got up +to turn the count's heavy body toward the wall. + +Pierre rose to help him. + +While the count was being turned over, one of his arms fell back +helplessly and he made a fruitless effort to pull it forward. +Whether he noticed the look of terror with which Pierre regarded +that lifeless arm, or whether some other thought flitted across his +dying brain, at any rate he glanced at the refractory arm, at Pierre's +terror-stricken face, and again at the arm, and on his face a +feeble, piteous smile appeared, quite out of keeping with his +features, that seemed to deride his own helplessness. At sight of this +smile Pierre felt an unexpected quivering in his breast and a tickling +in his nose, and tears dimmed his eyes. The sick man was turned on +to his side with his face to the wall. He sighed. + +"He is dozing," said Anna Mikhaylovna, observing that one of the +princesses was coming to take her turn at watching. "Let us go." + +Pierre went out. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +There was now no one in the reception room except Prince Vasili +and the eldest princess, who were sitting under the portrait of +Catherine the Great and talking eagerly. As soon as they saw Pierre +and his companion they became silent, and Pierre thought he saw the +princess hide something as she whispered: + +"I can't bear the sight of that woman." + +"Catiche has had tea served in the small drawing room," said +Prince Vasili to Anna Mikhaylovna. "Go and take something, my poor +Anna Mikhaylovna, or you will not hold out." + +To Pierre he said nothing, merely giving his arm a sympathetic +squeeze below the shoulder. Pierre went with Anna Mikhaylovna into the +small drawing room. + +"There is nothing so refreshing after a sleepless night as a cup +of this delicious Russian tea," Lorrain was saying with an air of +restrained animation as he stood sipping tea from a delicate Chinese +handleless cup before a table on which tea and a cold supper were laid +in the small circular room. Around the table all who were at Count +Bezukhov's house that night had gathered to fortify themselves. Pierre +well remembered this small circular drawing room with its mirrors +and little tables. During balls given at the house Pierre, who did not +know how to dance, had liked sitting in this room to watch the +ladies who, as they passed through in their ball dresses with diamonds +and pearls on their bare shoulders, looked at themselves in the +brilliantly lighted mirrors which repeated their reflections several +times. Now this same room was dimly lighted by two candles. On one +small table tea things and supper dishes stood in disorder, and in the +middle of the night a motley throng of people sat there, not +merrymaking, but somberly whispering, and betraying by every word +and movement that they none of them forgot what was happening and what +was about to happen in the bedroom. Pierre did not eat anything though +he would very much have liked to. He looked inquiringly at his +monitress and saw that she was again going on tiptoe to the +reception room where they had left Prince Vasili and the eldest +princess. Pierre concluded that this also was essential, and after a +short interval followed her. Anna Mikhaylovna was standing beside +the princess, and they were both speaking in excited whispers. + +"Permit me, Princess, to know what is necessary and what is not +necessary," said the younger of the two speakers, evidently in the +same state of excitement as when she had slammed the door of her room. + +"But, my dear princess," answered Anna Mikhaylovna blandly but +impressively, blocking the way to the bedroom and preventing the other +from passing, "won't this be too much for poor Uncle at a moment +when he needs repose? Worldly conversation at a moment when his soul +is already prepared..." + +Prince Vasili was seated in an easy chair in his familiar +attitude, with one leg crossed high above the other. His cheeks, which +were so flabby that they looked heavier below, were twitching +violently; but he wore the air of a man little concerned in what the +two ladies were saying. + +"Come, my dear Anna Mikhaylovna, let Catiche do as she pleases. +You know how fond the count is of her." + +"I don't even know what is in this paper," said the younger of the +two ladies, addressing Prince Vasili and pointing to an inlaid +portfolio she held in her hand. "All I know is that his real will is +in his writing table, and this is a paper he has forgotten...." + +She tried to pass Anna Mikhaylovna, but the latter sprang so as to +bar her path. + +"I know, my dear, kind princess," said Anna Mikhaylovna, seizing the +portfolio so firmly that it was plain she would not let go easily. +"Dear princess, I beg and implore you, have some pity on him! Je +vous en conjure..." + +The princess did not reply. Their efforts in the struggle for the +portfolio were the only sounds audible, but it was evident that if the +princess did speak, her words would not be flattering to Anna +Mikhaylovna. Though the latter held on tenaciously, her voice lost +none of its honeyed firmness and softness. + +"Pierre, my dear, come here. I think he will not be out of place +in a family consultation; is it not so, Prince?" + +"Why don't you speak, cousin?" suddenly shrieked the princess so +loud that those in the drawing room heard her and were startled. +"Why do you remain silent when heaven knows who permits herself to +interfere, making a scene on the very threshold of a dying man's room? +Intriguer!" she hissed viciously, and tugged with all her might at the +portfolio. + +But Anna Mikhaylovna went forward a step or two to keep her hold +on the portfolio, and changed her grip. + +Prince Vasili rose. "Oh!" said he with reproach and surprise, +"this is absurd! Come, let go I tell you." + +The princess let go. + +"And you too!" + +But Anna Mikhaylovna did not obey him. + +"Let go, I tell you! I will take the responsibility. I myself will +go and ask him, I!... does that satisfy you?" + +"But, Prince," said Anna Mikhaylovna, "after such a solemn +sacrament, allow him a moment's peace! Here, Pierre, tell them your +opinion," said she, turning to the young man who, having come quite +close, was gazing with astonishment at the angry face of the +princess which had lost all dignity, and at the twitching cheeks of +Prince Vasili. + +"Remember that you will answer for the consequences," said Prince +Vasili severely. "You don't know what you are doing." + +"Vile woman!" shouted the princess, darting unexpectedly at Anna +Mikhaylovna and snatching the portfolio from her. + +Prince Vasili bent his head and spread out his hands. + +At this moment that terrible door, which Pierre had watched so +long and which had always opened so quietly, burst noisily open and +banged against the wall, and the second of the three sisters rushed +out wringing her hands. + +"What are you doing!" she cried vehemently. "He is dying and you +leave me alone with him!" + +Her sister dropped the portfolio. Anna Mikhaylovna, stooping, +quickly caught up the object of contention and ran into the bedroom. +The eldest princess and Prince Vasili, recovering themselves, followed +her. A few minutes later the eldest sister came out with a pale hard +face, again biting her underlip. At sight of Pierre her expression +showed an irrepressible hatred. + +"Yes, now you may be glad!" said she; "this is what you have been +waiting for." And bursting into tears she hid her face in her +handkerchief and rushed from the room. + +Prince Vasili came next. He staggered to the sofa on which Pierre +was sitting and dropped onto it, covering his face with his hand. +Pierre noticed that he was pale and that his jaw quivered and shook as +if in an ague. + +"Ah, my friend!" said he, taking Pierre by the elbow; and there +was in his voice a sincerity and weakness Pierre had never observed in +it before. "How often we sin, how much we deceive, and all for what? I +am near sixty, dear friend... I too... All will end in death, all! +Death is awful..." and he burst into tears. + +Anna Mikhaylovna came out last. She approached Pierre with slow, +quiet steps. + +"Pierre!" she said. + +Pierre gave her an inquiring look. She kissed the young man on his +forehead, wetting him with her tears. Then after a pause she said: + +"He is no more...." + +Pierre looked at her over his spectacles. + +"Come, I will go with you. Try to weep, nothing gives such relief as +tears." + +She led him into the dark drawing room and Pierre was glad no one +could see his face. Anna Mikhaylovna left him, and when she returned +he was fast asleep with his head on his arm. + +In the morning Anna Mikhaylovna said to Pierre: + +"Yes, my dear, this is a great loss for us all, not to speak of you. +But God will support you: you are young, and are now, I hope, in +command of an immense fortune. The will has not yet been opened. I +know you well enough to be sure that this will not turn your head, but +it imposes duties on you, and you must be a man." + +Pierre was silent. + +"Perhaps later on I may tell you, my dear boy, that if I had not +been there, God only knows what would have happened! You know, Uncle +promised me only the day before yesterday not to forget Boris. But +he had no time. I hope, my dear friend, you will carry out your +father's wish?" + +Pierre understood nothing of all this and coloring shyly looked in +silence at Princess Anna Mikhaylovna. After her talk with Pierre, Anna +Mikhaylovna returned to the Rostovs' and went to bed. On waking in the +morning she told the Rostovs and all her acquaintances the details +of Count Bezukhov's death. She said the count had died as she would +herself wish to die, that his end was not only touching but +edifying. As to the last meeting between father and son, it was so +touching that she could not think of it without tears, and did not +know which had behaved better during those awful moments--the father +who so remembered everything and everybody at last and had +spoken such pathetic words to the son, or Pierre, whom it had been +pitiful to see, so stricken was he with grief, though he tried hard to +hide it in order not to sadden his dying father. "It is painful, but +it does one good. It uplifts the soul to see such men as the old count +and his worthy son," said she. Of the behavior of the eldest +princess and Prince Vasili she spoke disapprovingly, but in whispers +and as a great secret. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +At Bald Hills, Prince Nicholas Andreevich Bolkonski's estate, the +arrival of young Prince Andrew and his wife was daily expected, but +this expectation did not upset the regular routine of life in the +old prince's household. General in Chief Prince Nicholas Andreevich +(nicknamed in society, "the King of Prussia") ever since the Emperor +Paul had exiled him to his country estate had lived there continuously +with his daughter, Princess Mary, and her companion, Mademoiselle +Bourienne. Though in the new reign he was free to return to the +capitals, he still continued to live in the country, remarking that +anyone who wanted to see him could come the hundred miles from +Moscow to Bald Hills, while he himself needed no one and nothing. He +used to say that there are only two sources of human vice--idleness +and superstition, and only two virtues--activity and intelligence. +He himself undertook his daughter's education, and to develop these +two cardinal virtues in her gave her lessons in algebra and geometry +till she was twenty, and arranged her life so that her whole time +was occupied. He was himself always occupied: writing his memoirs, +solving problems in higher mathematics, turning snuffboxes on a lathe, +working in the garden, or superintending the building that was +always going on at his estate. As regularity is a prime condition +facilitating activity, regularity in his household was carried to +the highest point of exactitude. He always came to table under +precisely the same conditions, and not only at the same hour but at +the same minute. With those about him, from his daughter to his serfs, +the prince was sharp and invariably exacting, so that without being +a hardhearted man he inspired such fear and respect as few hardhearted +men would have aroused. Although he was in retirement and had now no +influence in political affairs, every high official appointed to the +province in which the prince's estate lay considered it his duty to +visit him and waited in the lofty antechamber ante chamber just as the +architect, gardener, or Princess Mary did, till the prince appeared +punctually to the appointed hour. Everyone sitting in this antechamber +experienced the same feeling of respect and even fear when the +enormously high study door opened and showed the figure of a rather +small old man, with powdered wig, small withered hands, and bushy gray +eyebrows which, when he frowned, sometimes hid the gleam of his +shrewd, youthfully glittering eyes. + +On the morning of the day that the young couple were to arrive, +Princess Mary entered the antechamber as usual at the time appointed +for the morning greeting, crossing herself with trepidation and +repeating a silent prayer. Every morning she came in like that, and +every morning prayed that the daily interview might pass off well. + +An old powdered manservant who was sitting in the antechamber rose +quietly and said in a whisper: "Please walk in." + +Through the door came the regular hum of a lathe. The princess +timidly opened the door which moved noiselessly and easily. She paused +at the entrance. The prince was working at the lathe and after +glancing round continued his work. + +The enormous study was full of things evidently in constant use. The +large table covered with books and plans, the tall glass-fronted +bookcases with keys in the locks, the high desk for writing while +standing up, on which lay an open exercise book, and the lathe with +tools laid ready to hand and shavings scattered around--all +indicated continuous, varied, and orderly activity. The motion of +the small foot shod in a Tartar boot embroidered with silver, and +the firm pressure of the lean sinewy hand, showed that the prince +still possessed the tenacious endurance and vigor of hardy old age. +After a few more turns of the lathe he removed his foot from the +pedal, wiped his chisel, dropped it into a leather pouch attached to +the lathe, and, approaching the table, summoned his daughter. He never +gave his children a blessing, so he simply held out his bristly +cheek (as yet unshaven) and, regarding her tenderly and attentively, +said severely: + +"Quite well? All right then, sit down." He took the exercise book +containing lessons in geometry written by himself and drew up a +chair with his foot. + +"For tomorrow!" said he, quickly finding the page and making a +scratch from one paragraph to another with his hard nail. + +The princess bent over the exercise book on the table. + +"Wait a bit, here's a letter for you," said the old man suddenly, +taking a letter addressed in a woman's hand from a bag hanging above +the table, onto which he threw it. + +At the sight of the letter red patches showed themselves on the +princess' face. She took it quickly and bent her head over it. + +"From Heloise?" asked the prince with a cold smile that showed his +still sound, yellowish teeth. + +"Yes, it's from Julie," replied the princess with a timid glance and +a timid smile. + +"I'll let two more letters pass, but the third I'll read," said +the prince sternly; "I'm afraid you write much nonsense. I'll read the +third!" + +"Read this if you like, Father," said the princess, blushing still +more and holding out the letter. + +"The third, I said the third!" cried the prince abruptly, pushing +the letter away, and leaning his elbows on the table he drew toward +him the exercise book containing geometrical figures. + +"Well, madam," he began, stooping over the book close to his +daughter and placing an arm on the back of the chair on which she sat, +so that she felt herself surrounded on all sides by the acrid scent of +old age and tobacco, which she had known so long. "Now, madam, these +triangles are equal; please note that the angle ABC..." + +The princess looked in a scared way at her father's eyes +glittering close to her; the red patches on her face came and went, +and it was plain that she understood nothing and was so frightened +that her fear would prevent her understanding any of her father's +further explanations, however clear they might be. Whether it was +the teacher's fault or the pupil's, this same thing happened every +day: the princess' eyes grew dim, she could not see and could not hear +anything, but was only conscious of her stern father's withered face +close to her, of his breath and the smell of him, and could think only +of how to get away quickly to her own room to make out the problem +in peace. The old man was beside himself: moved the chair on which +he was sitting noisily backward and forward, made efforts to control +himself and not become vehement, but almost always did become +vehement, scolded, and sometimes flung the exercise book away. + +The princess gave a wrong answer. + +"Well now, isn't she a fool!" shouted the prince, pushing the book +aside and turning sharply away; but rising immediately, he paced up +and down, lightly touched his daughter's hair and sat down again. + +He drew up his chair, and continued to explain. + +"This won't do, Princess; it won't do," said he, when Princess Mary, +having taken and closed the exercise book with the next day's +lesson, was about to leave: "Mathematics are most important, madam! +I don't want to have you like our silly ladies. Get used to it and +you'll like it," and he patted her cheek. "It will drive all the +nonsense out of your head." + +She turned to go, but he stopped her with a gesture and took an +uncut book from the high desk. + +"Here is some sort of Key to the Mysteries that your Heloise has +sent you. Religious! I don't interfere with anyone's belief... I +have looked at it. Take it. Well, now go. Go." + +He patted her on the shoulder and himself closed the door after her. + +Princess Mary went back to her room with the sad, scared +expression that rarely left her and which made her plain, sickly +face yet plainer. She sat down at her writing table, on which stood +miniature portraits and which was littered with books and papers. +The princess was as untidy as her father was tidy. She put down the +geometry book and eagerly broke the seal of her letter. It was from +her most intimate friend from childhood; that same Julie Karagina +who had been at the Rostovs' name-day party. + +Julie wrote in French: + + +Dear and precious Friend, How terrible and frightful a thing is +separation! Though I tell myself that half my life and half my +happiness are wrapped up in you, and that in spite of the distance +separating us our hearts are united by indissoluble bonds, my heart +rebels against fate and in spite of the pleasures and distractions +around me I cannot overcome a certain secret sorrow that has been in +my heart ever since we parted. Why are we not together as we were last +summer, in your big study, on the blue sofa, the confidential sofa? +Why cannot I now, as three months ago, draw fresh moral strength +from your look, so gentle, calm, and penetrating, a look I loved so +well and seem to see before me as I write? + + +Having read thus far, Princess Mary sighed and glanced into the +mirror which stood on her right. It reflected a weak, ungraceful +figure and thin face. Her eyes, always sad, now looked with particular +hopelessness at her reflection in the glass. "She flatters me," +thought the princess, turning away and continuing to read. But Julie +did not flatter her friend, the princess' eyes--large, deep and +luminous (it seemed as if at times there radiated from them shafts +of warm light)--were so beautiful that very often in spite of the +plainness of her face they gave her an attraction more powerful than +that of beauty. But the princess never saw the beautiful expression of +her own eyes--the look they had when she was not thinking of +herself. As with everyone, her face assumed a forced unnatural +expression as soon as she looked in a glass. She went on reading: + + +All Moscow talks of nothing but war. One of my two brothers is +already abroad, the other is with the Guards, who are starting on +their march to the frontier. Our dear Emperor has left Petersburg +and it is thought intends to expose his precious person to the chances +of war. God grant that the Corsican monster who is destroying the +peace of Europe may be overthrown by the angel whom it has pleased the +Almighty, in His goodness, to give us as sovereign! To say nothing +of my brothers, this war has deprived me of one of the associations +nearest my heart. I mean young Nicholas Rostov, who with his +enthusiasm could not bear to remain inactive and has left the +university to join the army. I will confess to you, dear Mary, that in +spite of his extreme youth his departure for the army was a great +grief to me. This young man, of whom I spoke to you last summer, is so +noble-minded and full of that real youthfulness which one seldom finds +nowadays among our old men of twenty and, particularly, he is so frank +and has so much heart. He is so pure and poetic that my relations with +him, transient as they were, have been one of the sweetest comforts to +my poor heart, which has already suffered so much. Someday I will tell +you about our parting and all that was said then. That is still too +fresh. Ah, dear friend, you are happy not to know these poignant +joys and sorrows. You are fortunate, for the latter are generally +the stronger! I know very well that Count Nicholas is too young ever +to be more to me than a friend, but this sweet friendship, this poetic +and pure intimacy, were what my heart needed. But enough of this! +The chief news, about which all Moscow gossips, is the death of old +Count Bezukhov, and his inheritance. Fancy! The three princesses +have received very little, Prince Vasili nothing, and it is Monsieur +Pierre who has inherited all the property and has besides been +recognized as legitimate; so that he is now Count Bezukhov and +possessor of the finest fortune in Russia. It is rumored that Prince +Vasili played a very despicable part in this affair and that he +returned to Petersburg quite crestfallen. + +I confess I understand very little about all these matters of +wills and inheritance; but I do know that since this young man, whom +we all used to know as plain Monsieur Pierre, has become Count +Bezukhov and the owner of one of the largest fortunes in Russia, I +am much amused to watch the change in the tone and manners of the +mammas burdened by marriageable daughters, and of the young ladies +themselves, toward him, though, between you and me, he always seemed +to me a poor sort of fellow. As for the past two years people have +amused themselves by finding husbands for me (most of whom I don't +even know), the matchmaking chronicles of Moscow now speak of me as +the future Countess Bezukhova. But you will understand that I have +no desire for the post. A propos of marriages: do you know that a +while ago that universal auntie Anna Mikhaylovna told me, under the +seal of strict secrecy, of a plan of marriage for you. It is neither +more nor less than with Prince Vasili's son Anatole, whom they wish to +reform by marrying him to someone rich and distinguee, and it is on +you that his relations' choice has fallen. I don't know what you +will think of it, but I consider it my duty to let you know of it. +He is said to be very handsome and a terrible scapegrace. That is +all I have been able to find out about him. + +But enough of gossip. I am at the end of my second sheet of paper, +and Mamma has sent for me to go and dine at the Apraksins'. Read the +mystical book I am sending you; it has an enormous success here. +Though there are things in it difficult for the feeble human mind to +grasp, it is an admirable book which calms and elevates the soul. +Adieu! Give my respects to monsieur your father and my compliments +to Mademoiselle Bourienne. I embrace you as I love you. + +JULIE + +P.S. Let me have news of your brother and his charming little wife. + + +The princess pondered awhile with a thoughtful smile and her +luminous eyes lit up so that her face was entirely transformed. Then +she suddenly rose and with her heavy tread went up to the table. She +took a sheet of paper and her hand moved rapidly over it. This is +the reply she wrote, also in French: + + +Dear and precious Friend, Your letter of the 13th has given me great +delight. So you still love me, my romantic Julie? Separation, of which +you say so much that is bad, does not seem to have had its usual +effect on you. You complain of our separation. What then should I say, +if I dared complain, I who am deprived of all who are dear to me? +Ah, if we had not religion to console us life would be very sad. Why +do you suppose that I should look severely on your affection for +that young man? On such matters I am only severe with myself. I +understand such feelings in others, and if never having felt them I +cannot approve of them, neither do I condemn them. Only it seems to me +that Christian love, love of one's neighbor, love of one's enemy, is +worthier, sweeter, and better than the feelings which the beautiful +eyes of a young man can inspire in a romantic and loving young girl +like yourself. + +The news of Count Bezukhov's death reached us before your letter and +my father was much affected by it. He says the count was the last +representative but one of the great century, and that it is his own +turn now, but that he will do all he can to let his turn come as +late as possible. God preserve us from that terrible misfortune! + +I cannot agree with you about Pierre, whom I knew as a child. He +always seemed to me to have an excellent heart, and that is the +quality I value most in people. As to his inheritance and the part +played by Prince Vasili, it is very sad for both. Ah, my dear +friend, our divine Saviour's words, that it is easier for a camel to +go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the +Kingdom of God, are terribly true. I pity Prince Vasili but am still +more sorry for Pierre. So young, and burdened with such riches--to +what temptations he will be exposed! If I were asked what I desire +most on earth, it would be to be poorer than the poorest beggar. A +thousand thanks, dear friend, for the volume you have sent me and +which has such success in Moscow. Yet since you tell me that among +some good things it contains others which our weak human understanding +cannot grasp, it seems to me rather useless to spend time in reading +what is unintelligible and can therefore bear no fruit. I never +could understand the fondness some people have for confusing their +minds by dwelling on mystical books that merely awaken their doubts +and excite their imagination, giving them a bent for exaggeration +quite contrary to Christian simplicity. Let us rather read the +Epistles and Gospels. Let us not seek to penetrate what mysteries they +contain; for how can we, miserable sinners that we are, know the +terrible and holy secrets of Providence while we remain in this +flesh which forms an impenetrable veil between us and the Eternal? Let +us rather confine ourselves to studying those sublime rules which +our divine Saviour has left for our guidance here below. Let us try to +conform to them and follow them, and let us be persuaded that the less +we let our feeble human minds roam, the better we shall please God, +who rejects all knowledge that does not come from Him; and the less we +seek to fathom what He has been pleased to conceal from us, the sooner +will He vouchsafe its revelation to us through His divine Spirit. + +My father has not spoken to me of a suitor, but has only told me +that he has received a letter and is expecting a visit from Prince +Vasili. In regard to this project of marriage for me, I will tell you, +dear sweet friend, that I look on marriage as a divine institution +to which we must conform. However painful it may be to me, should +the Almighty lay the duties of wife and mother upon me I +shall try to perform them as faithfully as I can, without +disquieting myself by examining my feelings toward him whom He may +give me for husband. + +I have had a letter from my brother, who announces his speedy +arrival at Bald Hills with his wife. This pleasure will be but a brief +one, however, for he will leave, us again to take part in this unhappy +war into which we have been drawn, God knows how or why. Not only +where you are--at the heart of affairs and of the world--is the talk +all of war, even here amid fieldwork and the calm of nature--which +townsfolk consider characteristic of the country--rumors of war are +heard and painfully felt. My father talks of nothing but marches and +countermarches, things of which I understand nothing; and the day +before yesterday during my daily walk through the village I +witnessed a heartrending scene.... It was a convoy of conscripts +enrolled from our people and starting to join the army. You should +have seen the state of the mothers, wives, and children of the men who +were going and should have heard the sobs. It seems as though +mankind has forgotten the laws of its divine Saviour, Who preached +love and forgiveness of injuries--and that men attribute the +greatest merit to skill in killing one another. + +Adieu, dear and kind friend; may our divine Saviour and His most +Holy Mother keep you in their holy and all-powerful care! + +MARY + + +"Ah, you are sending off a letter, Princess? I have already +dispatched mine. I have written to my poor mother," said the smiling +Mademoiselle Bourienne rapidly, in her pleasant mellow tones and +with guttural r's. She brought into Princess Mary's strenuous, +mournful, and gloomy world a quite different atmosphere, careless, +lighthearted, and self-satisfied. + +"Princess, I must warn you," she added, lowering her voice and +evidently listening to herself with pleasure, and speaking with +exaggerated grasseyement, "the prince has been scolding Michael +Ivanovich. He is in a very bad humor, very morose. Be prepared." + +"Ah, dear friend," replied Princess Mary, "I have asked you never to +warn me of the humor my father is in. I do not allow myself to judge +him and would not have others do so." + +The princess glanced at her watch and, seeing that she was five +minutes late in starting her practice on the clavichord, went into the +sitting room with a look of alarm. Between twelve and two o'clock, +as the day was mapped out, the prince rested and the princess played +the clavichord. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +The gray-haired valet was sitting drowsily listening to the +snoring of the prince, who was in his large study. From the far side +of the house through the closed doors came the sound of difficult +passages--twenty times repeated--of a sonata by Dussek. + +Just then a closed carriage and another with a hood drove up to +the porch. Prince Andrew got out of the carriage, helped his little +wife to alight, and let her pass into the house before him. Old +Tikhon, wearing a wig, put his head out of the door of the +antechamber, reported in a whisper that the prince was sleeping, and +hastily closed the door. Tikhon knew that neither the son's arrival +nor any other unusual event must be allowed to disturb the appointed +order of the day. Prince Andrew apparently knew this as well as +Tikhon; he looked at his watch as if to ascertain whether his father's +habits had changed since he was at home last, and, having assured +himself that they had not, he turned to his wife. + +"He will get up in twenty minutes. Let us go across to Mary's room," +he said. + +The little princess had grown stouter during this time, but her eyes +and her short, downy, smiling lip lifted when she began to speak +just as merrily and prettily as ever. + +"Why, this is a palace!" she said to her husband, looking around +with the expression with which people compliment their host at a ball. +"Let's come, quick, quick!" And with a glance round, she smiled at +Tikhon, at her husband, and at the footman who accompanied them. + +"Is that Mary practicing? Let's go quietly and take her by +surprise." + +Prince Andrew followed her with a courteous but sad expression. + +"You've grown older, Tikhon," he said in passing to the old man, who +kissed his hand. + +Before they reached the room from which the sounds of the clavichord +came, the pretty, fair haired Frenchwoman, Mademoiselle Bourienne, +rushed out apparently beside herself with delight. + +"Ah! what joy for the princess!" exclaimed she: "At last! I must let +her know." + +"No, no, please not... You are Mademoiselle Bourienne," said the +little princess, kissing her. "I know you already through my +sister-in-law's friendship for you. She was not expecting us?" + +They went up to the door of the sitting room from which came the +sound of the oft-repeated passage of the sonata. Prince Andrew stopped +and made a grimace, as if expecting something unpleasant. + +The little princess entered the room. The passage broke off in the +middle, a cry was heard, then Princess Mary's heavy tread and the +sound of kissing. When Prince Andrew went in the two princesses, who +had only met once before for a short time at his wedding, were in each +other's arms warmly pressing their lips to whatever place they +happened to touch. Mademoiselle Bourienne stood near them pressing her +hand to her heart, with a beatific smile and obviously equally ready +to cry or to laugh. Prince Andrew shrugged his shoulders and +frowned, as lovers of music do when they hear a false note. The two +women let go of one another, and then, as if afraid of being too late, +seized each other's hands, kissing them and pulling them away, and +again began kissing each other on the face, and then to Prince +Andrew's surprise both began to cry and kissed again. Mademoiselle +Bourienne also began to cry. Prince Andrew evidently felt ill at ease, +but to the two women it seemed quite natural that they should cry, and +apparently it never entered their heads that it could have been +otherwise at this meeting. + +"Ah! my dear!... Ah! Mary!" they suddenly exclaimed, and then +laughed. "I dreamed last night..."--"You were not expecting us?..."- +"Ah! Mary, you have got thinner?..." "And you have grown stouter!..." + +"I knew the princess at once," put in Mademoiselle Bourienne. + +"And I had no idea!..." exclaimed Princess Mary. "Ah, Andrew, I +did not see you." + +Prince Andrew and his sister, hand in hand, kissed one another, +and he told her she was still the same crybaby as ever. Princess +Mary had turned toward her brother, and through her tears the +loving, warm, gentle look of her large luminous eyes, very beautiful +at that moment, rested on Prince Andrew's face. + +The little princess talked incessantly, her short, downy upper lip +continually and rapidly touching her rosy nether lip when necessary +and drawing up again next moment when her face broke into a smile of +glittering teeth and sparkling eyes. She told of an accident they +had had on the Spasski Hill which might have been serious for her in +her condition, and immediately after that informed them that she had +left all her clothes in Petersburg and that heaven knew what she would +have to dress in here; and that Andrew had quite changed, and that +Kitty Odyntsova had married an old man, and that there was a suitor +for Mary, a real one, but that they would talk of that later. Princess +Mary was still looking silently at her brother and her beautiful +eyes were full of love and sadness. It was plain that she was +following a train of thought independent of her sister-in-law's words. +In the midst of a description of the last Petersburg fete she +addressed her brother: + +"So you are really going to the war, Andrew?" she said sighing. + +Lise sighed too. + +"Yes, and even tomorrow," replied her brother. + +"He is leaving me here, God knows why, when he might have had +promotion..." + +Princess Mary did not listen to the end, but continuing her train of +thought turned to her sister-in-law with a tender glance at her +figure. + +"Is it certain?" she said. + +The face of the little princess changed. She sighed and said: +"Yes, quite certain. Ah! it is very dreadful..." + +Her lip descended. She brought her face close to her sister-in-law's +and unexpectedly again began to cry. + +"She needs rest," said Prince Andrew with a frown. "Don't you, Lise? +Take her to your room and I'll go to Father. How is he? Just the +same?" + +"Yes, just the same. Though I don't know what your opinion will be," +answered the princess joyfully. + +"And are the hours the same? And the walks in the avenues? And the +lathe?" asked Prince Andrew with a scarcely perceptible smile which +showed that, in spite of all his love and respect for his father, he +was aware of his weaknesses. + +"The hours are the same, and the lathe, and also the mathematics and +my geometry lessons," said Princess Mary gleefully, as if her +lessons in geometry were among the greatest delights of her life. + +When the twenty minutes had elapsed and the time had come for the +old prince to get up, Tikhon came to call the young prince to his +father. The old man made a departure from his usual routine in honor +of his son's arrival: he gave orders to admit him to his apartments +while he dressed for dinner. The old prince always dressed in +old-fashioned style, wearing an antique coat and powdered hair; and +when Prince Andrew entered his father's dressing room (not with the +contemptuous look and manner he wore in drawing rooms, but with the +animated face with which he talked to Pierre), the old man was sitting +on a large leather-covered chair, wrapped in a powdering mantle, +entrusting his head to Tikhon. + +"Ah! here's the warrior! Wants to vanquish Buonaparte?" said the old +man, shaking his powdered head as much as the tail, which Tikhon was +holding fast to plait, would allow. + +"You at least must tackle him properly, or else if he goes on like +this he'll soon have us, too, for his subjects! How are you?" And he +held out his cheek. + +The old man was in a good temper after his nap before dinner. (He +used to say that a nap "after dinner was silver--before dinner, +golden.") He cast happy, sidelong glances at his son from under his +thick, bushy eyebrows. Prince Andrew went up and kissed his father +on the spot indicated to him. He made no reply on his father's +favorite topic--making fun of the military men of the day, and more +particularly of Bonaparte. + +"Yes, Father, I have come come to you and brought my wife who is +pregnant," said Prince Andrew, following every movement of his +father's face with an eager and respectful look. "How is your health?" + +"Only fools and rakes fall ill, my boy. You know me: I am busy +from morning till night and abstemious, so of course I am well." + +"Thank God," said his son smiling. + +"God has nothing to do with it! Well, go on," he continued, +returning to his hobby; "tell me how the Germans have taught you to +fight Bonaparte by this new science you call 'strategy.'" + +Prince Andrew smiled. + +"Give me time to collect my wits, Father," said he, with a smile +that showed that his father's foibles did not prevent his son from +loving and honoring him. "Why, I have not yet had time to settle +down!" + +"Nonsense, nonsense!" cried the old man, shaking his pigtail to +see whether it was firmly plaited, and grasping his by the hand. +"The house for your wife is ready. Princess Mary will take her there +and show her over, and they'll talk nineteen to the dozen. That's +their woman's way! I am glad to have her. Sit down and talk. About +Mikhelson's army I understand--Tolstoy's too... a simultaneous +expedition.... But what's the southern army to do? Prussia is +neutral... I know that. What about Austria?" said he, rising from +his chair and pacing up and down the room followed by Tikhon, who +ran after him, handing him different articles of clothing. "What of +Sweden? How will they cross Pomerania?" + +Prince Andrew, seeing that his father insisted, began--at first +reluctantly, but gradually with more and more animation, and from +habit changing unconsciously from Russian to French as he went on- +to explain the plan of operation for the coming campaign. He explained +how an army, ninety thousand strong, was to threaten Prussia so as +to bring her out of her neutrality and draw her into the war; how part +of that army was to join some Swedish forces at Stralsund; how two +hundred and twenty thousand Austrians, with a hundred thousand +Russians, were to operate in Italy and on the Rhine; how fifty +thousand Russians and as many English were to land at Naples, and +how a total force of five hundred thousand men was to attack the +French from different sides. The old prince did not evince the least +interest during this explanation, but as if he were not listening to +it continued to dress while walking about, and three times +unexpectedly interrupted. Once he stopped it by shouting: "The white +one, the white one!" + +This meant that Tikhon was not handing him the waistcoat he +wanted. Another time he interrupted, saying: + +"And will she soon be confined?" and shaking his head +reproachfully said: "That's bad! Go on, go on." + +The third interruption came when Prince Andrew was finishing his +description. The old man began to sing, in the cracked voice of old +age: "Malbrook s'en va-t-en guerre. Dieu sait quand reviendra."* + + +*"Marlborough is going to the wars; God knows when he'll return." + + +His son only smiled. + +"I don't say it's a plan I approve of," said the son; "I am only +telling you what it is. Napoleon has also formed his plan by now, +not worse than this one." + +"Well, you've told me nothing new," and the old man repeated, +meditatively and rapidly: + +"Dieu sait quand reviendra. Go to the dining room." + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +At the appointed hour the prince, powdered and shaven, entered the +dining room where his daughter-in-law, Princess Mary, and Mademoiselle +Bourienne were already awaiting him together with his architect, who +by a strange caprice of his employer's was admitted to table though +the position of that insignificant individual was such as could +certainly not have caused him to expect that honor. The prince, who +generally kept very strictly to social distinctions and rarely +admitted even important government officials to his table, had +unexpectedly selected Michael Ivanovich (who always went into a corner +to blow his nose on his checked handkerchief) to illustrate the theory +that all men are equals, and had more than once impressed on his +daughter that Michael Ivanovich was "not a whit worse than you or +I." At dinner the prince usually spoke to the taciturn Michael +Ivanovich more often than to anyone else. + +In the dining room, which like all the rooms in the house was +exceedingly lofty, the members of the household and the footmen--one +behind each chair--stood waiting for the prince to enter. The head +butler, napkin on arm, was scanning the setting of the table, making +signs to the footmen, and anxiously glancing from the clock to the +door by which the prince was to enter. Prince Andrew was looking at +a large gilt frame, new to him, containing the genealogical tree of +the Princes Bolkonski, opposite which hung another such frame with a +badly painted portrait (evidently by the hand of the artist +belonging to the estate) of a ruling prince, in a crown--an alleged +descendant of Rurik and ancestor of the Bolkonskis. Prince Andrew, +looking again at that genealogical tree, shook his head, laughing as a +man laughs who looks at a portrait so characteristic of the original +as to be amusing. + +"How thoroughly like him that is!" he said to Princess Mary, who had +come up to him. + +Princess Mary looked at her brother in surprise. She did not +understand what he was laughing at. Everything her father did inspired +her with reverence and was beyond question. + +"Everyone has his Achilles' heel," continued Prince Andrew. +"Fancy, with his powerful mind, indulging in such nonsense!" + +Princess Mary could not understand the boldness of her brother's +criticism and was about to reply, when the expected footsteps were +heard coming from the study. The prince walked in quickly and jauntily +as was his wont, as if intentionally contrasting the briskness of +his manners with the strict formality of his house. At that moment the +great clock struck two and another with a shrill tone joined in from +the drawing room. The prince stood still; his lively glittering eyes +from under their thick, bushy eyebrows sternly scanned all present and +rested on the little princess. She felt, as courtiers do when the Tsar +enters, the sensation of fear and respect which the old man inspired +in all around him. He stroked her hair and then patted her awkwardly +on the back of her neck. + +"I'm glad, glad, to see you," he said, looking attentively into +her eyes, and then quickly went to his place and sat down. "Sit +down, sit down! Sit down, Michael Ianovich!" + +He indicated a place beside him to his daughter-in-law. A footman +moved the chair for her. + +"Ho, ho!" said the old man, casting his eyes on her rounded +figure. "You've been in a hurry. That's bad!" + +He laughed in his usual dry, cold, unpleasant way, with his lips +only and not with his eyes. + +"You must walk, walk as much as possible, as much as possible," he +said. + +The little princess did not, or did not wish to, hear his words. She +was silent and seemed confused. The prince asked her about her father, +and she began to smile and talk. He asked about mutual +acquaintances, and she became still more animated and chattered away +giving him greetings from various people and retailing the town +gossip. + +"Countess Apraksina, poor thing, has lost her husband and she has +cried her eyes out," she said, growing more and more lively. + +As she became animated the prince looked at her more and more +sternly, and suddenly, as if he had studied her sufficiently and had +formed a definite idea of her, he turned away and addressed Michael +Ivanovich. + +"Well, Michael Ivanovich, our Bonaparte will be having a bad time of +it. Prince Andrew" (he always spoke thus of his son) "has been telling +me what forces are being collected against him! While you and I +never thought much of him." + +Michael Ivanovich did not at all know when "you and I" had said such +things about Bonaparte, but understanding that he was wanted as a +peg on which to hang the prince's favorite topic, he looked +inquiringly at the young prince, wondering what would follow. + +"He is a great tactician!" said the prince to his son, pointing to +the architect. + +And the conversation again turned on the war, on Bonaparte, and +the generals and statesmen of the day. The old prince seemed convinced +not only that all the men of the day were mere babies who did not know +the A B C of war or of politics, and that Bonaparte was an +insignificant little Frenchy, successful only because there were no +longer any Potemkins or Suvorovs left to oppose him; but he was also +convinced that there were no political difficulties in Europe and no +real war, but only a sort of puppet show at which the men of the day +were playing, pretending to do something real. Prince Andrew gaily +bore with his father's ridicule of the new men, and drew him on and +listened to him with evident pleasure. + +"The past always seems good," said he, "but did not Suvorov +himself fall into a trap Moreau set him, and from which he did not +know how to escape?" + +"Who told you that? Who?" cried the prince. "Suvorov!" And he jerked +away his plate, which Tikhon briskly caught. "Suvorov!... Consider, +Prince Andrew. Two... Frederick and Suvorov; Moreau!... Moreau would +have been a prisoner if Suvorov had had a free hand; but he had the +Hofs-kriegs-wurst-schnapps-Rath on his hands. It would have puzzled +the devil himself! When you get there you'll find out what those +Hofs-kriegs-wurst-Raths are! Suvorov couldn't manage them so what +chance has Michael Kutuzov? No, my dear boy," he continued, "you and +your generals won't get on against Buonaparte; you'll have to call +in the French, so that birds of a feather may fight together. The +German, Pahlen, has been sent to New York in America, to fetch the +Frenchman, Moreau," he said, alluding to the invitation made that year +to Moreau to enter the Russian service.... "Wonderful!... Were the +Potemkins, Suvorovs, and Orlovs Germans? No, lad, either you fellows +have all lost your wits, or I have outlived mine. May God help you, +but we'll see what will happen. Buonaparte has become a great +commander among them! Hm!..." + +"I don't at all say that all the plans are good," said Prince +Andrew, "I am only surprised at your opinion of Bonaparte. You may +laugh as much as you like, but all the same Bonaparte is a great +general!" + +"Michael Ivanovich!" cried the old prince to the architect who, busy +with his roast meat, hoped he had been forgotten: "Didn't I tell you +Buonaparte was a great tactician? Here, he says the same thing." + +"To be sure, your excellency." replied the architect. + +The prince again laughed his frigid laugh. + +"Buonaparte was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He has got +splendid soldiers. Besides he began by attacking Germans. And only +idlers have failed to beat the Germans. Since the world began +everybody has beaten the Germans. They beat no one--except one +another. He made his reputation fighting them." + +And the prince began explaining all the blunders which, according to +him, Bonaparte had made in his campaigns and even in politics. His son +made no rejoinder, but it was evident that whatever arguments were +presented he was as little able as his father to change his opinion. +He listened, refraining from a reply, and involuntarily wondered how +this old man, living alone in the country for so many years, could +know and discuss so minutely and acutely all the recent European +military and political events. + +"You think I'm an old man and don't understand the present state +of affairs?" concluded his father. "But it troubles me. I don't +sleep at night. Come now, where has this great commander of yours +shown his skill?" he concluded. + +"That would take too long to tell," answered the son. + +"Well, then go to your Buonaparte! Mademoiselle Bourienne, here's +another admirer of that powder-monkey emperor of yours," he +exclaimed in excellent French. + +"You know, Prince, I am not a Bonapartist!" + +"Dieu sait quand reviendra..." hummed the prince out of tune and, +with a laugh still more so, he quitted the table. + +The little princess during the whole discussion and the rest of +the dinner sat silent, glancing with a frightened look now at her +father-in-law and now at Princess Mary. When they left the table she +took her sister-in-law's arm and drew her into another room. + +"What a clever man your father is," said she; "perhaps that is why I +am afraid of him." + +"Oh, he is so kind!" answered Princess Mary. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +Prince Andrew was to leave next evening. The old prince, not +altering his routine, retired as usual after dinner. The little +princess was in her sister-in-law's room. Prince Andrew in a traveling +coat without epaulettes had been packing with his valet in the rooms +assigned to him. After inspecting the carriage himself and seeing +the trunks put in, he ordered the horses to be harnessed. Only those +things he always kept with him remained in his room; a small box, a +large canteen fitted with silver plate, two Turkish pistols and a +saber--a present from his father who had brought it from the siege +of Ochakov. All these traveling effects of Prince Andrew's were in +very good order: new, clean, and in cloth covers carefully tied with +tapes. + +When starting on a journey or changing their mode of life, men +capable of reflection are generally in a serious frame of mind. At +such moments one reviews the past and plans for the future. Prince +Andrew's face looked very thoughtful and tender. With his hands behind +him he paced briskly from corner to corner of the room, looking +straight before him and thoughtfully shaking his head. Did he fear +going to the war, or was he sad at leaving his wife?--perhaps both, +but evidently he did not wish to be seen in that mood, for hearing +footsteps in the passage he hurriedly unclasped his hands, stopped +at a table as if tying the cover of the small box, and assumed his +usual tranquil and impenetrable expression. It was the heavy tread +of Princess Mary that he heard. + +"I hear you have given orders to harness," she cried, panting (she +had apparently been running), "and I did so wish to have another +talk with you alone! God knows how long we may again be parted. You +are not angry with me for coming? You have changed so, Andrusha," +she added, as if to explain such a question. + +She smiled as she uttered his pet name, "Andrusha." It was obviously +strange to her to think that this stern handsome man should be +Andrusha--the slender mischievous boy who had been her playfellow in +childhood. + +"And where is Lise?" he asked, answering her question only by a +smile. + +"She was so tired that she has fallen asleep on the sofa in my room. +Oh, Andrew! What a treasure of a wife you have," said she, sitting +down on the sofa, facing her brother. "She is quite a child: such a +dear, merry child. I have grown so fond of her." + +Prince Andrew was silent, but the princess noticed the ironical +and contemptuous look that showed itself on his face. + +"One must be indulgent to little weaknesses; who is free from +them, Andrew? Don't forget that she has grown up and been educated +in society, and so her position now is not a rosy one. We should enter +into everyone's situation. Tout comprendre, c'est tout pardonner.* +Think it must be for her, poor thing, after what she has been used to, +to be parted from her husband and be left alone in the country, in her +condition! It's very hard." + + +*To understand all is to forgive all. + + +Prince Andrew smiled as he looked at his sister, as we smile at +those we think we thoroughly understand. + +"You live in the country and don't think the life terrible," he +replied. + +"I... that's different. Why speak of me? I don't want any other +life, and can't, for I know no other. But think, Andrew: for a young +society woman to be buried in the country during the best years of her +life, all alone--for Papa is always busy, and I... well, you know what +poor resources I have for entertaining a woman used to the best +society. There is only Mademoiselle Bourienne...." + +"I don't like your Mademoiselle Bourienne at all," said Prince +Andrew. + +"No? She is very nice and kind and, above all, she's much to be +pitied. She has no one, no one. To tell the truth, I don't need her, +and she's even in my way. You know I always was a savage, and now am +even more so. I like being alone.... Father likes her very much. She +and Michael Ivanovich are the two people to whom he is always gentle +and kind, because he has been a benefactor to them both. As Sterne +says: 'We don't love people so much for the good they have done us, as +for the good we have done them.' Father took her when she was homeless +after losing her own father. She is very good-natured, and my father +likes her way of reading. She reads to him in the evenings and reads +splendidly." + +"To be quite frank, Mary, I expect Father's character sometimes +makes things trying for you, doesn't it?" Prince Andrew asked +suddenly. + +Princess Mary was first surprised and then aghast at this question. + +"For me? For me?... Trying for me!..." said she. + +"He always was rather harsh; and now I should think he's getting +very trying," said Prince Andrew, apparently speaking lightly of their +father in order to puzzle or test his sister. + +"You are good in every way, Andrew, but you have a kind of +intellectual pride," said the princess, following the train of her own +thoughts rather than the trend of the conversation--"and that's a +great sin. How can one judge Father? But even if one might, what +feeling except veneration could such a man as my father evoke? And I +am so contented and happy with him. I only wish you were all as +happy as I am." + +Her brother shook his head incredulously. + +"The only thing that is hard for me... I will tell you the truth, +Andrew... is Father's way of treating religious subjects. I don't +understand how a man of his immense intellect can fail to see what +is as clear as day, and can go so far astray. That is the only thing +that makes me unhappy. But even in this I can see lately a shade of +improvement. His satire has been less bitter of late, and there was +a monk he received and had a long talk with." + +"Ah! my dear, I am afraid you and your monk are wasting your +powder," said Prince Andrew banteringly yet tenderly. + +"Ah! mon ami, I only pray, and hope that God will hear me. +Andrew..." she said timidly after a moment's silence, "I have a +great favor to ask of you." + +"What is it, dear?" + +"No--promise that you will not refuse! It will give you no trouble +and is nothing unworthy of you, but it will comfort me. Promise, +Andrusha!..." said she, putting her hand in her reticule but not yet +taking out what she was holding inside it, as if what she held were +the subject of her request and must not be shown before the request +was granted. + +She looked timidly at her brother. + +"Even if it were a great deal of trouble..." answered Prince Andrew, +as if guessing what it was about. + +"Think what you please! I know you are just like Father. Think as +you please, but do this for my sake! Please do! Father's father, our +grandfather, wore it in all his wars." (She still did not take out +what she was holding in her reticule.) "So you promise?" + +"Of course. What is it?" + +"Andrew, I bless you with this icon and you must promise me you will +never take it off. Do you promise?" + +"If it does not weigh a hundredweight and won't break my neck... +To please you..." said Prince Andrew. But immediately, noticing the +pained expression his joke had brought to his sister's face, he +repented and added: "I am glad; really, dear, I am very glad." + +"Against your will He will save and have mercy on you and bring +you to Himself, for in Him alone is truth and peace," said she in a +voice trembling with emotion, solemnly holding up in both hands before +her brother a small, oval, antique, dark-faced icon of the Saviour +in a gold setting, on a finely wrought silver chain. + +She crossed herself, kissed the icon, and handed it to Andrew. + +"Please, Andrew, for my sake!..." + +Rays of gentle light shone from her large, timid eyes. Those eyes +lit up the whole of her thin, sickly face and made it beautiful. Her +brother would have taken the icon, but she stopped him. Andrew +understood, crossed himself and kissed the icon. There was a look of +tenderness, for he was touched, but also a gleam of irony on his face. + +"Thank you, my dear." She kissed him on the forehead and sat down +again on the sofa. They were silent for a while. + +"As I was saying to you, Andrew, be kind and generous as you +always used to be. Don't judge Lise harshly," she began. "She is so +sweet, so good-natured, and her position now is a very hard one." + +"I do not think I have complained of my wife to you, Masha, or +blamed her. Why do you say all this to me?" + +Red patches appeared on Princess Mary's face and she was silent as +if she felt guilty. + +"I have said nothing to you, but you have already been talked to. +And I am sorry for that," he went on. + +The patches grew deeper on her forehead, neck, and cheeks. She tried +to say something but could not. Her brother had guessed right: the +little princess had been crying after dinner and had spoken of her +forebodings about her confinement, and how she dreaded it, and had +complained of her fate, her father-in-law, and her husband. After +crying she had fallen asleep. Prince Andrew felt sorry for his sister. + +"Know this, Masha: I can't reproach, have not reproached, and +never shall reproach my wife with anything, and I cannot reproach +myself with anything in regard to her; and that always will be so in +whatever circumstances I may be placed. But if you want to know the +truth... if you want to know whether I am happy? No! Is she happy? No! +But why this is so I don't know..." + +As he said this he rose, went to his sister, and, stooping, kissed +her forehead. His fine eyes lit up with a thoughtful, kindly, and +unaccustomed brightness, but he was looking not at his sister but over +her head toward the darkness of the open doorway. + +"Let us go to her, I must say good-by. Or--go and wake and I'll come +in a moment. Petrushka!" he called to his valet: "Come here, take +these away. Put this on the seat and this to the right." + +Princess Mary rose and moved to the door, then stopped and said: +"Andrew, if you had faith you would have turned to God and asked Him +to give you the love you do not feel, and your prayer would have +been answered." + +"Well, may be!" said Prince Andrew. "Go, Masha; I'll come +immediately." + +On the way to his sister's room, in the passage which connected +one wing with the other, Prince Andrew met Mademoiselle Bourienne +smiling sweetly. It was the third time that day that, with an ecstatic +and artless smile, she had met him in secluded passages. + +"Oh! I thought you were in your room," she said, for some reason +blushing and dropping her eyes. + +Prince Andrew looked sternly at her and an expression of anger +suddenly came over his face. He said nothing to her but looked at +her forehead and hair, without looking at her eyes, with such contempt +that the Frenchwoman blushed and went away without a word. When he +reached his sister's room his wife was already awake and her merry +voice, hurrying one word after another, came through the open door. +She was speaking as usual in French, and as if after long +self-restraint she wished to make up for lost time. + +"No, but imagine the old Countess Zubova, with false curls and her +mouth full of false teeth, as if she were trying to cheat old +age.... Ha, ha, ha! Mary!" + +This very sentence about Countess Zubova and this same laugh +Prince Andrew had already heard from his wife in the presence of +others some five times. He entered the room softly. The little +princess, plump and rosy, was sitting in an easy chair with her work +in her hands, talking incessantly, repeating Petersburg +reminiscences and even phrases. Prince Andrew came up, stroked her +hair, and asked if she felt rested after their journey. She answered +him and continued her chatter. + +The coach with six horses was waiting at the porch. It was an autumn +night, so dark that the coachman could not see the carriage pole. +Servants with lanterns were bustling about in the porch. The immense +house was brilliant with lights shining through its lofty windows. The +domestic serfs were crowding in the hall, waiting to bid good-by to +the young prince. The members of the household were all gathered in +the reception hall: Michael Ivanovich, Mademoiselle Bourienne, +Princess Mary, and the little princess. Prince Andrew had been +called to his father's study as the latter wished to say good-by to +him alone. All were waiting for them to come out. + +When Prince Andrew entered the study the old man in his old-age +spectacles and white dressing gown, in which he received no one but +his son, sat at the table writing. He glanced round. + +"Going?" And he went on writing. + +"I've come to say good-by." + +"Kiss me here," and he touched his cheek: "Thanks, thanks!" + +"What do you thank me for?" + +"For not dilly-dallying and not hanging to a woman's apron +strings. The Service before everything. Thanks, thanks!" And he went +on writing, so that his quill spluttered and squeaked. "If you have +anything to say, say it. These two things can be done together," he +added. + +"About my wife... I am ashamed as it is to leave her on your +hands..." + +"Why talk nonsense? Say what you want." + +"When her confinement is due, send to Moscow for an accoucheur.... +Let him be here...." + +The old prince stopped writing and, as if not understanding, fixed +his stern eyes on his son. + +"I know that no one can help if nature does not do her work," said +Prince Andrew, evidently confused. "I know that out of a million cases +only one goes wrong, but it is her fancy and mine. They have been +telling her things. She has had a dream and is frightened." + +"Hm... Hm..." muttered the old prince to himself, finishing what +he was writing. "I'll do it." + +He signed with a flourish and suddenly turning to his son began to +laugh. + +"It's a bad business, eh?" + +"What is bad, Father?" + +"The wife!" said the old prince, briefly and significantly. + +"I don't understand!" said Prince Andrew. + +"No, it can't be helped, lad," said the prince. "They're all like +that; one can't unmarry. Don't be afraid; I won't tell anyone, but you +know it yourself." + +He seized his son by the hand with small bony fingers, shook it, +looked straight into his son's face with keen eyes which seemed to see +through him, and again laughed his frigid laugh. + +The son sighed, thus admitting that his father had understood him. +The old man continued to fold and seal his letter, snatching up and +throwing down the wax, the seal, and the paper, with his accustomed +rapidity. + +"What's to be done? She's pretty! I will do everything. Make your +mind easy," said he in abrupt sentences while sealing his letter. + +Andrew did not speak; he was both pleased and displeased that his +father understood him. The old man got up and gave the letter to his +son. + +"Listen!" said he; "don't worry about your wife: what can be done +shall be. Now listen! Give this letter to Michael Ilarionovich.* I +have written that he should make use of you in proper places and not +keep you long as an adjutant: a bad position! Tell him I remember +and like him. Write and tell me how he receives you. If he is all +right--serve him. Nicholas Bolkonski's son need not serve under anyone +if he is in disfavor. Now come here." + + +*Kutuzov. + + +He spoke so rapidly that he did not finish half his words, but his +son was accustomed to understand him. He led him to the desk, raised +the lid, drew out a drawer, and took out an exercise book filled +with his bold, tall, close handwriting. + +"I shall probably die before you. So remember, these are my memoirs; +hand them to the Emperor after my death. Now here is a Lombard bond +and a letter; it is a premium for the man who writes a history of +Suvorov's wars. Send it to the Academy. Here are some jottings for you +to read when I am gone. You will find them useful." + +Andrew did not tell his father that he would no doubt live a long +time yet. He felt that he must not say it. + +"I will do it all, Father," he said. + +"Well, now, good-by!" He gave his son his hand to kiss, and embraced +him. "Remember this, Prince Andrew, if they kill you it will hurt +me, your old father..." he paused unexpectedly, and then in a +querulous voice suddenly shrieked: "but if I hear that you have not +behaved like a son of Nicholas Bolkonski, I shall be ashamed!" + +"You need not have said that to me, Father," said the son with a +smile. + +The old man was silent. + +"I also wanted to ask you," continued Prince Andrew, "if I'm +killed and if I have a son, do not let him be taken away from you- +as I said yesterday... let him grow up with you.... Please." + +"Not let the wife have him?" said the old man, and laughed. + +They stood silent, facing one another. The old man's sharp eyes were +fixed straight on his son's. Something twitched in the lower part of +the old prince's face. + +"We've said good-by. Go!" he suddenly shouted in a loud, angry +voice, opening his door. + +"What is it? What?" asked both princesses when they saw for a moment +at the door Prince Andrew and the figure of the old man in a white +dressing gown, spectacled and wigless, shouting in an angry voice. + +Prince Andrew sighed and made no reply. + +"Well!" he said, turning to his wife. + +And this "Well!" sounded coldly ironic, as if he were saying,: +"Now go through your performance." + +"Andrew, already!" said the little princess, turning pale and +looking with dismay at her husband. + +He embraced her. She screamed and fell unconscious on his shoulder. + +He cautiously released the shoulder she leaned on, looked into her +face, and carefully placed her in an easy chair. + +"Adieu, Mary," said he gently to his sister, taking her by the +hand and kissing her, and then he left the room with rapid steps. + +The little princess lay in the armchair, Mademoiselle Bourienne +chafing her temples. Princess Mary, supporting her sister-in-law, +still looked with her beautiful eyes full of tears at the door through +which Prince Andrew had gone and made the sign of the cross in his +direction. From the study, like pistol shots, came the frequent +sound of the old man angrily blowing his nose. Hardly had Prince +Andrew gone when the study door opened quickly and the stern figure of +the old man in the white dressing gown looked out. + +"Gone? That's all right!" said he; and looking angrily at the +unconscious little princess, he shook his head reprovingly and slammed +the door. + + + + + +BOOK TWO: 1805 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +In October, 1805, a Russian army was occupying the villages and +towns of the Archduchy of Austria, and yet other regiments freshly +arriving from Russia were settling near the fortress of Braunau and +burdening the inhabitants on whom they were quartered. Braunau was the +headquarters of the commander-in-chief, Kutuzov. + +On October 11, 1805, one of the infantry regiments that had just +reached Braunau had halted half a mile from the town, waiting to be +inspected by the commander in chief. Despite the un-Russian appearance +of the locality and surroundings--fruit gardens, stone fences, tiled +roofs, and hills in the distance--and despite the fact that the +inhabitants (who gazed with curiosity at the soldiers) were not +Russians, the regiment had just the appearance of any Russian regiment +preparing for an inspection anywhere in the heart of Russia. + +On the evening of the last day's march an order had been received +that the commander in chief would inspect the regiment on the march. +Though the words of the order were not clear to the regimental +commander, and the question arose whether the troops were to be in +marching order or not, it was decided at a consultation between the +battalion commanders to present the regiment in parade order, on the +principle that it is always better to "bow too low than not bow low +enough." So the soldiers, after a twenty-mile march, were kept mending +and cleaning all night long without closing their eyes, while the +adjutants and company commanders calculated and reckoned, and by +morning the regiment--instead of the straggling, disorderly crowd it +had been on its last march the day before--presented a well-ordered +array of two thousand men each of whom knew his place and his duty, +had every button and every strap in place, and shone with cleanliness. +And not only externally was all in order, but had it pleased the +commander in chief to look under the uniforms he would have found on +every man a clean shirt, and in every knapsack the appointed number of +articles, "awl, soap, and all," as the soldiers say. There was only +one circumstance concerning which no one could be at ease. It was +the state of the soldiers' boots. More than half the men's boots +were in holes. But this defect was not due to any fault of the +regimental commander, for in spite of repeated demands boots had not +been issued by the Austrian commissariat, and the regiment had marched +some seven hundred miles. + +The commander of the regiment was an elderly, choleric, stout, and +thick-set general with grizzled eyebrows and whiskers, and wider +from chest to back than across the shoulders. He had on a brand-new +uniform showing the creases where it had been folded and thick gold +epaulettes which seemed to stand rather than lie down on his massive +shoulders. He had the air of a man happily performing one of the +most solemn duties of his life. He walked about in front of the line +and at every step pulled himself up, slightly arching his back. It was +plain that the commander admired his regiment, rejoiced in it, and +that his whole mind was engrossed by it, yet his strut seemed to +indicate that, besides military matters, social interests and the fair +sex occupied no small part of his thoughts. + +"Well, Michael Mitrich, sir?" he said, addressing one of the +battalion commanders who smilingly pressed forward (it was plain +that they both felt happy). "We had our hands full last night. +However, I think the regiment is not a bad one, eh?" + +The battalion commander perceived the jovial irony and laughed. + +"It would not be turned off the field even on the Tsaritsin Meadow." + +"What?" asked the commander. + +At that moment, on the road from the town on which signalers had +been posted, two men appeared on horse back. They were an +aide-de-camp followed by a Cossack. + +The aide-de-camp was sent to confirm the order which had not been +clearly worded the day before, namely, that the commander in chief +wished to see the regiment just in the state in which it had been on +the march: in their greatcoats, and packs, and without any preparation +whatever. + +A member of the Hofkriegsrath from Vienna had come to Kutuzov the +day before with proposals and demands for him to join up with the army +of the Archduke Ferdinand and Mack, and Kutuzov, not considering +this junction advisable, meant, among other arguments in support of +his view, to show the Austrian general the wretched state in which the +troops arrived from Russia. With this object he intended to meet the +regiment; so the worse the condition it was in, the better pleased the +commander in chief would be. Though the aide-de-camp did not know +these circumstances, he nevertheless delivered the definite order that +the men should be in their greatcoats and in marching order, and +that the commander in chief would otherwise be dissatisfied. On +hearing this the regimental commander hung his head, silently shrugged +his shoulders, and spread out his arms with a choleric gesture. + +"A fine mess we've made of it!" he remarked. + +"There now! Didn't I tell you, Michael Mitrich, that if it was +said 'on the march' it meant in greatcoats?" said he reproachfully +to the battalion commander. "Oh, my God!" he added, stepping +resolutely forward. "Company commanders!" he shouted in a voice +accustomed to command. "Sergeants major!... How soon will he be here?" +he asked the aide-de-camp with a respectful politeness evidently +relating to the personage he was referring to. + +"In an hour's time, I should say." + +"Shall we have time to change clothes?" + +"I don't know, General...." + +The regimental commander, going up to the line himself, ordered +the soldiers to change into their greatcoats. The company commanders +ran off to their companies, the sergeants major began bustling (the +greatcoats were not in very good condition), and instantly the squares +that had up to then been in regular order and silent began to sway and +stretch and hum with voices. On all sides soldiers were running to and +fro, throwing up their knapsacks with a jerk of their shoulders and +pulling the straps over their heads, unstrapping their overcoats and +drawing the sleeves on with upraised arms. + +In half an hour all was again in order, only the squares had +become gray instead of black. The regimental commander walked with his +jerky steps to the front of the regiment and examined it from a +distance. + +"Whatever is this? This!" he shouted and stood still. "Commander +of the third company!" + +"Commander of the third company wanted by the general!... +commander to the general... third company to the commander." The words +passed along the lines and an adjutant ran to look for the missing +officer. + +When the eager but misrepeated words had reached their destination +in a cry of: "The general to the third company," the missing officer +appeared from behind his company and, though he was a middle-aged +man and not in the habit of running, trotted awkwardly stumbling on +his toes toward the general. The captain's face showed the +uneasiness of a schoolboy who is told to repeat a lesson he has not +learned. Spots appeared on his nose, the redness of which was +evidently due to intemperance, and his mouth twitched nervously. The +general looked the captain up and down as he came up panting, +slackening his pace as he approached. + +"You will soon be dressing your men in petticoats! What is this?" +shouted the regimental commander, thrusting forward his jaw and +pointing at a soldier in the ranks of the third company in a greatcoat +of bluish cloth, which contrasted with the others. "What have you been +after? The commander in chief is expected and you leave your place? +Eh? I'll teach you to dress the men in fancy coats for a parade.... +Eh...?" + +The commander of the company, with his eyes fixed on his superior, +pressed two fingers more and more rigidly to his cap, as if in this +pressure lay his only hope of salvation. + +"Well, why don't you speak? Whom have you got there dressed up as +a Hungarian?" said the commander with an austere gibe. + +"Your excellency..." + +"Well, your excellency, what? Your excellency! But what about your +excellency?... nobody knows." + +"Your excellency, it's the officer Dolokhov, who has been reduced to +the ranks," said the captain softly. + +"Well? Has he been degraded into a field marshal, or into a soldier? +If a soldier, he should be dressed in regulation uniform like the +others." + +"Your excellency, you gave him leave yourself, on the march." + +"Gave him leave? Leave? That's just like you young men," said the +regimental commander cooling down a little. "Leave indeed.... One says +a word to you and you... What?" he added with renewed irritation, "I +beg you to dress your men decently." + +And the commander, turning to look at the adjutant, directed his +jerky steps down the line. He was evidently pleased at his own display +of anger and walking up to the regiment wished to find a further +excuse for wrath. Having snapped at an officer for an unpolished +badge, at another because his line was not straight, he reached the +third company. + +"H-o-o-w are you standing? Where's your leg? Your leg?" shouted +the commander with a tone of suffering in his voice, while there +were still five men between him and Dolokhov with his bluish-gray +uniform. + +Dolokhov slowly straightened his bent knee, looking straight with +his clear, insolent eyes in the general's face. + +"Why a blue coat? Off with it... Sergeant major! Change his +coat... the ras..." he did not finish. + +"General, I must obey orders, but I am not bound to endure..." +Dolokhov hurriedly interrupted. + +"No talking in the ranks!... No talking, no talking!" + +"Not bound to endure insults," Dolokhov concluded in loud, ringing +tones. + +The eyes of the general and the soldier met. The general became +silent, angrily pulling down his tight scarf. + +"I request you to have the goodness to change your coat," he said as +he turned away. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +"He's coming!" shouted the signaler at that moment. + +The regimental commander, flushing, ran to his horse, seized the +stirrup with trembling hands, threw his body across the saddle, +righted himself, drew his saber, and with a happy and resolute +countenance, opening his mouth awry, prepared to shout. The regiment +fluttered like a bird preening its plumage and became motionless. + +"Att-ention!" shouted the regimental commander in a soul-shaking +voice which expressed joy for himself, severity for the regiment, +and welcome for the approaching chief. + +Along the broad country road, edged on both sides by trees, came a +high, light blue Viennese caleche, slightly creaking on its springs +and drawn by six horses at a smart trot. Behind the caleche galloped +the suite and a convoy of Croats. Beside Kutuzov sat an Austrian +general, in a white uniform that looked strange among the Russian +black ones. The caleche stopped in front of the regiment. Kutuzov +and the Austrian general were talking in low voices and Kutuzov smiled +slightly as treading heavily he stepped down from the carriage just as +if those two thousand men breathlessly gazing at him and the +regimental commander did not exist. + +The word of command rang out, and again the regiment quivered, as +with a jingling sound it presented arms. Then amidst a dead silence +the feeble voice of the commander in chief was heard. The regiment +roared, "Health to your ex... len... len... lency!" and again all +became silent. At first Kutuzov stood still while the regiment +moved; then he and the general in white, accompanied by the suite, +walked between the ranks. + +From the way the regimental commander saluted the commander in chief +and devoured him with his eyes, drawing himself up obsequiously, and +from the way he walked through the ranks behind the generals, +bending forward and hardly able to restrain his jerky movements, and +from the way he darted forward at every word or gesture of the +commander in chief, it was evident that he performed his duty as a +subordinate with even greater zeal than his duty as a commander. +Thanks to the strictness and assiduity of its commander the +regiment, in comparison with others that had reached Braunau at the +same time, was in splendid condition. There were only 217 sick and +stragglers. Everything was in good order except the boots. + +Kutuzov walked through the ranks, sometimes stopping to say a few +friendly words to officers he had known in the Turkish war, +sometimes also to the soldiers. Looking at their boots he several +times shook his head sadly, pointing them out to the Austrian +general with an expression which seemed to say that he was not blaming +anyone, but could not help noticing what a bad state of things it was. +The regimental commander ran forward on each such occasion, fearing to +miss a single word of the commander in chief's regarding the regiment. +Behind Kutuzov, at a distance that allowed every softly spoken word to +be heard, followed some twenty men of his suite. These gentlemen +talked among themselves and sometimes laughed. Nearest of all to the +commander in chief walked a handsome adjutant. This was Prince +Bolkonski. Beside him was his comrade Nesvitski, a tall staff officer, +extremely stout, with a kindly, smiling, handsome face and moist eyes. +Nesvitski could hardly keep from laughter provoked by a swarthy hussar +officer who walked beside him. This hussar, with a grave face and +without a smile or a change in the expression of his fixed eyes, +watched the regimental commander's back and mimicked his every +movement. Each time the commander started and bent forward, the hussar +started and bent forward in exactly the same manner. Nesvitski laughed +and nudged the others to make them look at the wag. + +Kutuzov walked slowly and languidly past thousands of eyes which +were starting from their sockets to watch their chief. On reaching the +third company he suddenly stopped. His suite, not having expected +this, involuntarily came closer to him. + +"Ah, Timokhin!" said he, recognizing the red-nosed captain who had +been reprimanded on account of the blue greatcoat. + +One would have thought it impossible for a man to stretch himself +more than Timokhin had done when he was reprimanded by the +regimental commander, but now that the commander in chief addressed +him he drew himself up to such an extent that it seemed he could not +have sustained it had the commander in chief continued to look at him, +and so Kutuzov, who evidently understood his case and wished him +nothing but good, quickly turned away, a scarcely perceptible smile +flitting over his scarred and puffy face. + +"Another Ismail comrade," said he. "A brave officer! Are you +satisfied with him?" he asked the regimental commander. + +And the latter--unconscious that he was being reflected in the +hussar officer as in a looking glass--started, moved forward, and +answered: "Highly satisfied, your excellency!" + +"We all have our weaknesses," said Kutuzov smiling and walking +away from him. "He used to have a predilection for Bacchus." + +The regimental commander was afraid he might be blamed for this +and did not answer. The hussar at that moment noticed the face of +the red-nosed captain and his drawn-in stomach, and mimicked his +expression and pose with such exactitude that Nesvitski could not help +laughing. Kutuzov turned round. The officer evidently had complete +control of his face, and while Kutuzov was turning managed to make a +grimace and then assume a most serious, deferential, and innocent +expression. + +The third company was the last, and Kutuzov pondered, apparently +trying to recollect something. Prince Andrew stepped forward from +among the suite and said in French: + +"You told me to remind you of the officer Dolokhov, reduced to the +ranks in this regiment." + +"Where is Dolokhov?" asked Kutuzov. + +Dolokhov, who had already changed into a soldier's gray greatcoat, +did not wait to be called. The shapely figure of the fair-haired +soldier, with his clear blue eyes, stepped forward from the ranks, +went up to the commander in chief, and presented arms. + +"Have you a complaint to make?" Kutuzov asked with a slight frown. + +"This is Dolokhov," said Prince Andrew. + +"Ah!" said Kutuzov. "I hope this will be a lesson to you. Do your +duty. The Emperor is gracious, and I shan't forget you if you +deserve well." + +The clear blue eyes looked at the commander in chief just as +boldly as they had looked at the regimental commander, seeming by +their expression to tear open the veil of convention that separates +a commander in chief so widely from a private. + +"One thing I ask of your excellency," Dolokhov said in his firm, +ringing, deliberate voice. "I ask an opportunity to atone for my fault +and prove my devotion to His Majesty the Emperor and to Russia!" + +Kutuzov turned away. The same smile of the eyes with which he had +turned from Captain Timokhin again flitted over his face. He turned +away with a grimace as if to say that everything Dolokhov had said +to him and everything he could say had long been known to him, that he +was weary of it and it was not at all what he wanted. He turned away +and went to the carriage. + +The regiment broke up into companies, which went to their +appointed quarters near Braunau, where they hoped to receive boots and +clothes and to rest after their hard marches. + +"You won't bear me a grudge, Prokhor Ignatych?" said the +regimental commander, overtaking the third company on its way to its +quarters and riding up to Captain Timokhin who was walking in front. +(The regimental commander's face now that the inspection was happily +over beamed with irrepressible delight.) "It's in the Emperor's +service... it can't be helped... one is sometimes a bit hasty on +parade... I am the first to apologize, you know me!... He was very +pleased!" And he held out his hand to the captain. + +"Don't mention it, General, as if I'd be so bold!" replied the +captain, his nose growing redder as he gave a smile which showed where +two front teeth were missing that had been knocked out by the butt end +of a gun at Ismail. + +"And tell Mr. Dolokhov that I won't forget him--he may be quite +easy. And tell me, please--I've been meaning to ask--how is to ask- +how is he behaving himself, and in general..." + +"As far as the service goes he is quite punctilious, your +excellency; but his character..." said Timokhin. + +"And what about his character?" asked the regimental commander. + +"It's different on different days," answered the captain. "One day +he is sensible, well educated, and good-natured, and the next he's a +wild beast.... In Poland, if you please, he nearly killed a Jew." + +"Oh, well, well!" remarked the regimental commander. "Still, one +must have pity on a young man in misfortune. You know he has important +connections... Well, then, you just..." + +"I will, your excellency," said Timokhin, showing by his smile +that he understood his commander's wish. + +"Well, of course, of course!" + +The regimental commander sought out Dolokhov in the ranks and, +reining in his horse, said to him: + +"After the next affair... epaulettes." + +Dolokhov looked round but did not say anything, nor did the +mocking smile on his lips change. + +"Well, that's all right," continued the regimental commander. "A cup +of vodka for the men from me," he added so that the soldiers could +hear. "I thank you all! God be praised!" and he rode past that company +and overtook the next one. + +"Well, he's really a good fellow, one can serve under him," said +Timokhin to the subaltern beside him. + +"In a word, a hearty one..." said the subaltern, laughing (the +regimental commander was nicknamed King of Hearts). + +The cheerful mood of their officers after the inspection infected +the soldiers. The company marched on gaily. The soldiers' voices could +be heard on every side. + +"And they said Kutuzov was blind of one eye?" + +"And so he is! Quite blind!" + +"No, friend, he is sharper-eyed than you are. Boots and leg bands... +he noticed everything..." + +"When he looked at my feet, friend... well, thinks I..." + +"And that other one with him, the Austrian, looked as if he were +smeared with chalk--as white as flour! I suppose they polish him up as +they do the guns." + +"I say, Fedeshon!... Did he say when the battles are to begin? You +were near him. Everybody said that Buonaparte himself was at Braunau." + +"Buonaparte himself!... Just listen to the fool, what he doesn't +know! The Prussians are up in arms now. The Austrians, you see, are +putting them down. When they've been put down, the war with Buonaparte +will begin. And he says Buonaparte is in Braunau! Shows you're a fool. +You'd better listen more carefully!" + +"What devils these quartermasters are! See, the fifth company is +turning into the village already... they will have their buckwheat +cooked before we reach our quarters." + +"Give me a biscuit, you devil!" + +"And did you give me tobacco yesterday? That's just it, friend! +Ah, well, never mind, here you are." + +"They might call a halt here or we'll have to do another four +miles without eating." + +"Wasn't it fine when those Germans gave us lifts! You just sit still +and are drawn along." + +"And here, friend, the people are quite beggarly. There they all +seemed to be Poles--all under the Russian crown--but here they're +all regular Germans." + +"Singers to the front " came the captain's order. + +And from the different ranks some twenty men ran to the front. A +drummer, their leader, turned round facing the singers, and +flourishing his arm, began a long-drawn-out soldiers' song, commencing +with the words: "Morning dawned, the sun was rising," and +concluding: "On then, brothers, on to glory, led by Father +Kamenski." This song had been composed in the Turkish campaign and now +being sung in Austria, the only change being that the words "Father +Kamenski" were replaced by "Father Kutuzov." + +Having jerked out these last words as soldiers do and waved his arms +as if flinging something to the ground, the drummer--a lean, +handsome soldier of forty--looked sternly at the singers and screwed +up his eyes. Then having satisfied himself that all eyes were fixed on +him, he raised both arms as if carefully lifting some invisible but +precious object above his head and, holding it there for some seconds, +suddenly flung it down and began: + +"Oh, my bower, oh, my bower...!" + +"Oh, my bower new...!" chimed in twenty voices, and the castanet +player, in spite of the burden of his equipment, rushed out to the +front and, walking backwards before the company, jerked his +shoulders and flourished his castanets as if threatening someone. +The soldiers, swinging their arms and keeping time spontaneously, +marched with long steps. Behind the company the sound of wheels, the +creaking of springs, and the tramp of horses' hoofs were heard. +Kutuzov and his suite were returning to the town. The commander in +chief made a sign that the men should continue to march at ease, and +he and all his suite showed pleasure at the sound of the singing and +the sight of the dancing soldier and the gay and smartly marching men. +In the second file from the right flank, beside which the carriage +passed the company, a blue-eyed soldier involuntarily attracted +notice. It was Dolokhov marching with particular grace and boldness in +time to the song and looking at those driving past as if he pitied all +who were not at that moment marching with the company. The hussar +cornet of Kutuzov's suite who had mimicked the regimental commander, +fell back from the carriage and rode up to Dolokhov. + +Hussar cornet Zherkov had at one time, in Petersburg, belonged to +the wild set led by Dolokhov. Zherkov had met Dolokhov abroad as a +private and had not seen fit to recognize him. But now that Kutuzov +had spoken to the gentleman ranker, he addressed him with the +cordiality of an old friend. + +"My dear fellow, how are you?" said he through the singing, making +his horse keep pace with the company. + +"How am I?" Dolokhov answered coldly. "I am as you see." + +The lively song gave a special flavor to the tone of free and easy +gaiety with which Zherkov spoke, and to the intentional coldness of +Dolokhov's reply. + +"And how do you get on with the officers?" inquired Zherkov. + +"All right. They are good fellows. And how have you wriggled onto +the staff?" + +"I was attached; I'm on duty." + +Both were silent. + +"She let the hawk fly upward from her wide right sleeve," went the +song, arousing an involuntary sensation of courage and cheerfulness. +Their conversation would probably have been different but for the +effect of that song. + +"Is it true that Austrians have been beaten?" asked Dolokhov. + +"The devil only knows! They say so." + +"I'm glad," answered Dolokhov briefly and clearly, as the song +demanded. + +"I say, come round some evening and we'll have a game of faro!" said +Zherkov. + +"Why, have you too much money?" + +"Do come." + +"I can't. I've sworn not to. I won't drink and won't play till I get +reinstated." + +"Well, that's only till the first engagement." + +"We shall see." + +They were again silent. + +"Come if you need anything. One can at least be of use on the +staff..." + +Dolokhov smiled. "Don't trouble. If I want anything, I won't beg- +I'll take it!" + +"Well, never mind; I only..." + +"And I only..." + +"Good-by." + +"Good health..." + + "It's a long, long way. + To my native land..." + + +Zherkov touched his horse with the spurs; it pranced excitedly +from foot to foot uncertain with which to start, then settled down, +galloped past the company, and overtook the carriage, still keeping +time to the song. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +On returning from the review, Kutuzov took the Austrian general into +his private room and, calling his adjutant, asked for some papers +relating to the condition of the troops on their arrival, and the +letters that had come from the Archduke Ferdinand, who was in +command of the advanced army. Prince Andrew Bolkonski came into the +room with the required papers. Kutuzov and the Austrian member of +the Hofkriegsrath were sitting at the table on which a plan was spread +out. + +"Ah!..." said Kutuzov glancing at Bolkonski as if by this +exclamation he was asking the adjutant to wait, and he went on with +the conversation in French. + +"All I can say, General," said he with a pleasant elegance of +expression and intonation that obliged one to listen to each +deliberately spoken word. It was evident that Kutuzov himself listened +with pleasure to his own voice. "All I can say, General, is that if +the matter depended on my personal wishes, the will of His Majesty the +Emperor Francis would have been fulfilled long ago. I should long +ago have joined the archduke. And believe me on my honour that to me +personally it would be a pleasure to hand over the supreme command +of the army into the hands of a better informed and more skillful +general--of whom Austria has so many--and to lay down all this heavy +responsibility. But circumstances are sometimes too strong for us, +General." + +And Kutuzov smiled in a way that seemed to say, "You are quite at +liberty not to believe me and I don't even care whether you do or not, +but you have no grounds for telling me so. And that is the whole +point." + +The Austrian general looked dissatisfied, but had no option but to +reply in the same tone. + +"On the contrary," he said, in a querulous and angry tone that +contrasted with his flattering words, "on the contrary, your +excellency's participation in the common action is highly valued by +His Majesty; but we think the present delay is depriving the +splendid Russian troops and their commander of the laurels they have +been accustomed to win in their battles," he concluded his evidently +prearranged sentence. + +Kutuzov bowed with the same smile. + +"But that is my conviction, and judging by the last letter with +which His Highness the Archduke Ferdinand has honored me, I imagine +that the Austrian troops, under the direction of so skillful a +leader as General Mack, have by now already gained a decisive +victory and no longer need our aid," said Kutuzov. + +The general frowned. Though there was no definite news of an +Austrian defeat, there were many circumstances confirming the +unfavorable rumors that were afloat, and so Kutuzov's suggestion of an +Austrian victory sounded much like irony. But Kutuzov went on +blandly smiling with the same expression, which seemed to say that +he had a right to suppose so. And, in fact, the last letter he had +received from Mack's army informed him of a victory and stated +strategically the position of the army was very favorable. + +"Give me that letter," said Kutuzov turning to Prince Andrew. +"Please have a look at it"--and Kutuzov with an ironical smile about +the corners of his mouth read to the Austrian general the following +passage, in German, from the Archduke Ferdinand's letter: + + +We have fully concentrated forces of nearly seventy thousand men +with which to attack and defeat the enemy should he cross the Lech. +Also, as we are masters of Ulm, we cannot be deprived of the advantage +of commanding both sides of the Danube, so that should the enemy not +cross the Lech, we can cross the Danube, throw ourselves on his line +of communications, recross the river lower down, and frustrate his +intention should he try to direct his whole force against our faithful +ally. We shall therefore confidently await the moment when the +Imperial Russian army will be fully equipped, and shall then, in +conjunction with it, easily find a way to prepare for the enemy the +fate he deserves. + + +Kutuzov sighed deeply on finishing this paragraph and looked at +the member of the Hofkriegsrath mildly and attentively. + +"But you know the wise maxim your excellency, advising one to expect +the worst," said the Austrian general, evidently wishing to have +done with jests and to come to business. He involuntarily looked round +at the aide-de-camp. + +"Excuse me, General," interrupted Kutuzov, also turning to Prince +Andrew. "Look here, my dear fellow, get from Kozlovski all the reports +from our scouts. Here are two letters from Count Nostitz and here is +one from His Highness the Archduke Ferdinand and here are these," he +said, handing him several papers, "make a neat memorandum in French +out of all this, showing all the news we have had of the movements +of the Austrian army, and then give it to his excellency." + +Prince Andrew bowed his head in token of having understood from +the first not only what had been said but also what Kutuzov would have +liked to tell him. He gathered up the papers and with a bow to both, +stepped softly over the carpet and went out into the waiting room. + +Though not much time had passed since Prince Andrew had left Russia, +he had changed greatly during that period. In the expression of his +face, in his movements, in his walk, scarcely a trace was left of +his former affected languor and indolence. He now looked like a man +who has time to think of the impression he makes on others, but is +occupied with agreeable and interesting work. His face expressed +more satisfaction with himself and those around him, his smile and +glance were brighter and more attractive. + +Kutuzov, whom he had overtaken in Poland, had received him very +kindly, promised not to forget him, distinguished him above the +other adjutants, and had taken him to Vienna and given him the more +serious commissions. From Vienna Kutuzov wrote to his old comrade, +Prince Andrew's father. + + +Your son bids fair to become an officer distinguished by his +industry, firmness, and expedition. I consider myself fortunate to +have such a subordinate by me. + + +On Kutuzov's staff, among his fellow officers and in the army +generally, Prince Andrew had, as he had had in Petersburg society, two +quite opposite reputations. Some, a minority, acknowledged him to be +different from themselves and from everyone else, expected great +things of him, listened to him, admired, and imitated him, and with +them Prince Andrew was natural and pleasant. Others, the majority, +disliked him and considered him conceited, cold, and disagreeable. But +among these people Prince Andrew knew how to take his stand so that +they respected and even feared him. + +Coming out of Kutuzov's room into the waiting room with the papers +in his hand Prince Andrew came up to his comrade, the aide-de-camp +on duty, Kozlovski, who was sitting at the window with a book. + +"Well, Prince?" asked Kozlovski. + +"I am ordered to write a memorandum explaining why we are not +advancing." + +"And why is it?" + +Prince Andrew shrugged his shoulders. + +"Any news from Mack?" + +"No." + +"If it were true that he has been beaten, news would have come." + +"Probably," said Prince Andrew moving toward the outer door. + +But at that instant a tall Austrian general in a greatcoat, with the +order of Maria Theresa on his neck and a black bandage round his head, +who had evidently just arrived, entered quickly, slamming the door. +Prince Andrew stopped short. + +"Commander in Chief Kutuzov?" said the newly arrived general +speaking quickly with a harsh German accent, looking to both sides and +advancing straight toward the inner door. + +"The commander in chief is engaged," said Kozlovski, going hurriedly +up to the unknown general and blocking his way to the door. "Whom +shall I announce?" + +The unknown general looked disdainfully down at Kozlovski, who was +rather short, as if surprised that anyone should not know him. + +"The commander in chief is engaged," repeated Kozlovski calmly. + +The general's face clouded, his lips quivered and trembled. He +took out a notebook, hurriedly scribbled something in pencil, tore out +the leaf, gave it to Kozlovski, stepped quickly to the window, and +threw himself into a chair, gazing at those in the room as if +asking, "Why do they look at me?" Then he lifted his head, stretched +his neck as if he intended to say something, but immediately, with +affected indifference, began to hum to himself, producing a queer +sound which immediately broke off. The door of the private room opened +and Kutuzov appeared in the doorway. The general with the bandaged +head bent forward as though running away from some danger, and, making +long, quick strides with his thin legs, went up to Kutuzov. + +"Vous voyez le malheureux Mack," he uttered in a broken voice. + +Kutuzov's face as he stood in the open doorway remained perfectly +immobile for a few moments. Then wrinkles ran over his face like a +wave and his forehead became smooth again, he bowed his head +respectfully, closed his eyes, silently let Mack enter his room before +him, and closed the door himself behind him. + +The report which had been circulated that the Austrians had been +beaten and that the whole army had surrendered at Ulm proved to be +correct. Within half an hour adjutants had been sent in various +directions with orders which showed that the Russian troops, who had +hitherto been inactive, would also soon have to meet the enemy. + +Prince Andrew was one of those rare staff officers whose chief +interest lay in the general progress of the war. When he saw Mack +and heard the details of his disaster he understood that half the +campaign was lost, understood all the difficulties of the Russian +army's position, and vividly imagined what awaited it and the part +he would have to play. Involuntarily he felt a joyful agitation at the +thought of the humiliation of arrogant Austria and that in a week's +time he might, perhaps, see and take part in the first Russian +encounter with the French since Suvorov met them. He feared that +Bonaparte's genius might outweigh all the courage of the Russian +troops, and at the same time could not admit the idea of his hero +being disgraced. + +Excited and irritated by these thoughts Prince Andrew went toward +his room to write to his father, to whom he wrote every day. In the +corridor he met Nesvitski, with whom he shared a room, and the wag +Zherkov; they were as usual laughing. + +"Why are you so glum?" asked Nesvitski noticing Prince Andrew's pale +face and glittering eyes. + +"There's nothing to be gay about," answered Bolkonski. + +Just as Prince Andrew met Nesvitski and Zherkov, there came toward +them from the other end of the corridor, Strauch, an Austrian +general who on Kutuzov's staff in charge of the provisioning of the +Russian army, and the member of the Hofkriegsrath who had arrived +the previous evening. There was room enough in the wide corridor for +the generals to pass the three officers quite easily, but Zherkov, +pushing Nesvitski aside with his arm, said in a breathless voice, + +"They're coming!... they're coming!... Stand aside, make way, please +make way!" + +The generals were passing by, looking as if they wished to avoid +embarrassing attentions. On the face of the wag Zherkov there suddenly +appeared a stupid smile of glee which he seemed unable to suppress. + +"Your excellency," said he in German, stepping forward and +addressing the Austrian general, "I have the honor to congratulate +you." + +He bowed his head and scraped first with one foot and then with +the other, awkwardly, like a child at a dancing lesson. + +The member of the Hofkriegsrath looked at him severely but, seeing +the seriousness of his stupid smile, could not but give him a moment's +attention. He screwed up his eyes showing that he was listening. + +"I have the honor to congratulate you. General Mack has arrived, +quite well, only a little bruised just here," he added, pointing +with a beaming smile to his head. + +The general frowned, turned away, and went on. + +"Gott, wie naiv!"* said he angrily, after he had gone a few steps. + +*"Good God, what simplicity!" + + +Nesvitski with a laugh threw his arms round Prince Andrew, but +Bolkonski, turning still paler, pushed him away with an angry look and +turned to Zherkov. The nervous irritation aroused by the appearance of +Mack, the news of his defeat, and the thought of what lay before the +Russian army found vent in anger at Zherkov's untimely jest. + +"If you, sir, choose to make a buffoon of yourself," he said +sharply, with a slight trembling of the lower jaw, "I can't prevent +your doing so; but I warn you that if you dare to play the fool in +my presence, I will teach you to behave yourself." + +Nesvitski and Zherkov were so surprised by this outburst that they +gazed at Bolkonski silently with wide-open eyes. + +"What's the matter? I only congratulated them," said Zherkov. + +"I am not jesting with you; please be silent!" cried Bolkonski, +and taking Nesvitski's arm he left Zherkov, who did not know what to +say. + +"Come, what's the matter, old fellow?" said Nesvitski trying to +soothe him. + +"What's the matter?" exclaimed Prince Andrew standing still in his +excitement. "Don't you understand that either we are officers +serving our Tsar and our country, rejoicing in the successes and +grieving at the misfortunes of our common cause, or we are merely +lackeys who care nothing for their master's business. Quarante mille +hommes massacres et l'armee de nos allies detruite, et vous trouvez la +le mot pour rire,"* he said, as if strengthening his views by this +French sentence. "C'est bien pour un garcon de rein comme cet +individu dont vous avez fait un ami, mais pas pour vous, pas pour +vous.*[2] Only a hobbledehoy could amuse himself in this way," he +added in Russian--but pronouncing the word with a French accent- +having noticed that Zherkov could still hear him. + + +*"Forty thousand men massacred and the army of our allies destroyed, +and you find that a cause for jesting!" + +*[2] "It is all very well for that good-for-nothing fellow of whom +you have made a friend, but not for you, not for you." + + +He waited a moment to see whether the cornet would answer, but he +turned and went out of the corridor. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +The Pavlograd Hussars were stationed two miles from Braunau. The +squadron in which Nicholas Rostov served as a cadet was quartered in +the German village of Salzeneck. The best quarters in the village were +assigned to cavalry-captain Denisov, the squadron commander, known +throughout the whole cavalry division as Vaska Denisov. Cadet +Rostov, ever since he had overtaken the regiment in Poland, had +lived with the squadron commander. + +On October 11, the day when all was astir at headquarters over the +news of Mack's defeat, the camp life of the officers of this +squadron was proceeding as usual. Denisov, who had been losing at +cards all night, had not yet come home when Rostov rode back early +in the morning from a foraging expedition. Rostov in his cadet +uniform, with a jerk to his horse, rode up to the porch, swung his leg +over the saddle with a supple youthful movement, stood for a moment in +the stirrup as if loathe to part from his horse, and at last sprang +down and called to his orderly. + +"Ah, Bondarenko, dear friend!" said he to the hussar who rushed up +headlong to the horse. "Walk him up and down, my dear fellow," he +continued, with that gay brotherly cordiality which goodhearted +young people show to everyone when they are happy. + +"Yes, your excellency," answered the Ukrainian gaily, tossing his +head. + +"Mind, walk him up and down well!" + +Another hussar also rushed toward the horse, but Bondarenko had +already thrown the reins of the snaffle bridle over the horse's +head. It was evident that the cadet was liberal with his tips and that +it paid to serve him. Rostov patted the horse's neck and then his +flank, and lingered for a moment. + +"Splendid! What a horse he will be!" he thought with a smile, and +holding up his saber, his spurs jingling, he ran up the steps of the +porch. His landlord, who in a waistcoat and a pointed cap, pitchfork +in hand, was clearing manure from the cowhouse, looked out, and his +face immediately brightened on seeing Rostov. "Schon gut Morgen! Schon +gut Morgen!"* he said winking with a merry smile, evidently pleased to +greet the young man. + + +*"A very good morning! A very good morning!" + + +"Schon fleissig?"* said Rostov with the same gay brotherly smile +which did not leave his eager face. "Hoch Oestreicher! Hoch Russen! +Kaiser Alexander hoch!"*[2] said he, quoting words often repeated by +the German landlord. + + +*"Busy already?" + +*[2] "Hurrah for the Austrians! Hurrah for the Russians! Hurrah +for Emperor Alexander!" + + +The German laughed, came out of the cowshed, pulled off his cap, and +waving it above his head cried: + +"Und die ganze Welt hoch!"* + + +*"And hurrah for the whole world!" + + +Rostov waved his cap above his head like the German and cried +laughing, "Und vivat die ganze Welt!" Though neither the German +cleaning his cowshed nor Rostov back with his platoon from foraging +for hay had any reason for rejoicing, they looked at each other with +joyful delight and brotherly love, wagged their heads in token of +their mutual affection, and parted smiling, the German returning to +his cowshed and Rostov going to the cottage he occupied with Denisov. + +"What about your master?" he asked Lavrushka, Denisov's orderly, +whom all the regiment knew for a rogue. + +"Hasn't been in since the evening. Must have been losing," +answered Lavrushka. "I know by now, if he wins he comes back early +to brag about it, but if he stays out till morning it means he's +lost and will come back in a rage. Will you have coffee?" + +"Yes, bring some." + +Ten minutes later Lavrushka brought the coffee. "He's coming!" +said he. "Now for trouble!" Rostov looked out of the window and saw +Denisov coming home. Denisov was a small man with a red face, +sparkling black eyes, and black tousled mustache and hair. He wore +an unfastened cloak, wide breeches hanging down in creases, and a +crumpled shako on the back of his head. He came up to the porch +gloomily, hanging his head. + +"Lavwuska!" he shouted loudly and angrily, "take it off, blockhead!" + +"Well, I am taking it off," replied Lavrushka's voice. + +"Ah, you're up already," said Denisov, entering the room. + +"Long ago," answered Rostov, "I have already been for the hay, and +have seen Fraulein Mathilde." + +"Weally! And I've been losing, bwother. I lost yesterday like a +damned fool!" cried Denisov, not pronouncing his r's. "Such ill +luck! Such ill luck. As soon as you left, it began and went on. +Hullo there! Tea!" + +Puckering up his face though smiling, and showing his short strong +teeth, he began with stubby fingers of both hands to ruffle up his +thick tangled black hair. + +"And what devil made me go to that wat?" (an officer nicknamed +"the rat") he said, rubbing his forehead and whole face with both +hands. "Just fancy, he didn't let me win a single cahd, not one cahd." + +He took the lighted pipe that was offered to him, gripped it in +his fist, and tapped it on the floor, making the sparks fly, while +he continued to shout. + +"He lets one win the singles and collahs it as soon as one doubles +it; gives the singles and snatches the doubles!" + +He scattered the burning tobacco, smashed the pipe, and threw it +away. Then he remained silent for a while, and all at once looked +cheerfully with his glittering, black eyes at Rostov. + +"If at least we had some women here; but there's nothing foh one +to do but dwink. If we could only get to fighting soon. Hullo, who's +there?" he said, turning to the door as he heard a tread of heavy +boots and the clinking of spurs that came to a stop, and a +respectful cough. + +"The squadron quartermaster!" said Lavrushka. + +Denisov's face puckered still more. + +"Wetched!" he muttered, throwing down a purse with some gold in +it. "Wostov, deah fellow, just see how much there is left and shove +the purse undah the pillow," he said, and went out to the +quartermaster. + +Rostov took the money and, mechanically arranging the old and new +coins in separate piles, began counting them. + +"Ah! Telyanin! How d'ye do? They plucked me last night," came +Denisov's voice from the next room. + +"Where? At Bykov's, at the rat's... I knew it," replied a piping +voice, and Lieutenant Telyanin, a small officer of the same +squadron, entered the room. + +Rostov thrust the purse under the pillow and shook the damp little +hand which was offered him. Telyanin for some reason had been +transferred from the Guards just before this campaign. He behaved very +well in the regiment but was not liked; Rostov especially detested him +and was unable to overcome or conceal his groundless antipathy to +the man. + +"Well, young cavalryman, how is my Rook behaving?" he asked. (Rook +was a young horse Telyanin had sold to Rostov.) + +The lieutenant never looked the man he was speaking to straight in +the face; his eyes continually wandered from one object to another. + +"I saw you riding this morning..." he added. + +"Oh, he's all right, a good horse," answered Rostov, though the +horse for which he had paid seven hundred rubbles was not worth half +that sum. "He's begun to go a little lame on the left foreleg," he +added. + +"The hoof's cracked! That's nothing. I'll teach you what to do and +show you what kind of rivet to use." + +"Yes, please do," said Rostov. + +"I'll show you, I'll show you! It's not a secret. And it's a horse +you'll thank me for." + +"Then I'll have it brought round," said Rostov wishing to avoid +Telyanin, and he went out to give the order. + +In the passage Denisov, with a pipe, was squatting on the +threshold facing the quartermaster who was reporting to him. On seeing +Rostov, Denisov screwed up his face and pointing over his shoulder +with his thumb to the room where Telyanin was sitting, he frowned +and gave a shudder of disgust. + +"Ugh! I don't like that fellow," he said, regardless of the +quartermaster's presence. + +Rostov shrugged his shoulders as much as to say: "Nor do I, but +what's one to do?" and, having given his order, he returned to +Telyanin. + +Telyanin was sitting in the same indolent pose in which Rostov had +left him, rubbing his small white hands. + +"Well there certainly are disgusting people," thought Rostov as he +entered. + +"Have you told them to bring the horse?" asked Telyanin, getting +up and looking carelessly about him. + +"I have." + +"Let us go ourselves. I only came round to ask Denisov about +yesterday's order. Have you got it, Denisov?" + +"Not yet. But where are you off to?" + +"I want to teach this young man how to shoe a horse," said Telyanin. + +They went through the porch and into the stable. The lieutenant +explained how to rivet the hoof and went away to his own quarters. + +When Rostov went back there was a bottle of vodka and a sausage on +the table. Denisov was sitting there scratching with his pen on a +sheet of paper. He looked gloomily in Rostov's face and said: "I am +witing to her." + +He leaned his elbows on the table with his pen in his hand and, +evidently glad of a chance to say quicker in words what he wanted to +write, told Rostov the contents of his letter. + +"You see, my fwiend," he said, "we sleep when we don't love. We +are childwen of the dust... but one falls in love and one is a God, +one is pua' as on the first day of cweation... Who's that now? Send +him to the devil, I'm busy!" he shouted to Lavrushka, who went up to +him not in the least abashed. + +"Who should it be? You yourself told him to come. It's the +quartermaster for the money." + +Denisov frowned and was about to shout some reply but stopped. + +"Wetched business," he muttered to himself. "How much is left in the +puhse?" he asked, turning to Rostov. + +"Seven new and three old imperials." + +"Oh, it's wetched! Well, what are you standing there for, you +sca'cwow? Call the quahtehmasteh," he shouted to Lavrushka. + +"Please, Denisov, let me lend you some: I have some, you know," said +Rostov, blushing. + +"Don't like bowwowing from my own fellows, I don't," growled +Denisov. + +"But if you won't accept money from me like a comrade, you will +offend me. Really I have some," Rostov repeated. + +"No, I tell you." + +And Denisov went to the bed to get the purse from under the pillow. + +"Where have you put it, Wostov?" + +"Under the lower pillow." + +"It's not there." + +Denisov threw both pillows on the floor. The purse was not there. + +"That's a miwacle." + +"Wait, haven't you dropped it?" said Rostov, picking up the +pillows one at a time and shaking them. + +He pulled off the quilt and shook it. The purse was not there. + +"Dear me, can I have forgotten? No, I remember thinking that you +kept it under your head like a treasure," said Rostov. "I put it +just here. Where is it?" he asked, turning to Lavrushka. + +"I haven't been in the room. It must be where you put it." + +"But it isn't?..." + +"You're always like that; you thwow a thing down anywhere and forget +it. Feel in your pockets." + +"No, if I hadn't thought of it being a treasure," said Rostov, +"but I remember putting it there." + +Lavrushka turned all the bedding over, looked under the bed and +under the table, searched everywhere, and stood still in the middle of +the room. Denisov silently watched Lavrushka's movements, and when the +latter threw up his arms in surprise saying it was nowhere to be found +Denisov glanced at Rostov. + +"Wostov, you've not been playing schoolboy twicks..." + +Rostov felt Denisov's gaze fixed on him, raised his eyes, and +instantly dropped them again. All the blood which had seemed congested +somewhere below his throat rushed to his face and eyes. He could not +draw breath. + +"And there hasn't been anyone in the room except the lieutenant +and yourselves. It must be here somewhere," said Lavrushka. + +"Now then, you devil's puppet, look alive and hunt for it!" +shouted Denisov, suddenly, turning purple and rushing at the man +with a threatening gesture. "If the purse isn't found I'll flog you, +I'll flog you all." + +Rostov, his eyes avoiding Denisov, began buttoning his coat, buckled +on his saber, and put on his cap. + +"I must have that purse, I tell you," shouted Denisov, shaking his +orderly by the shoulders and knocking him against the wall. + +"Denisov, let him alone, I know who has taken it," said Rostov, +going toward the door without raising his eyes. Denisov paused, +thought a moment, and, evidently understanding what Rostov hinted +at, seized his arm. + +"Nonsense!" he cried, and the veins on his forehead and neck stood +out like cords. "You are mad, I tell you. I won't allow it. The +purse is here! I'll flay this scoundwel alive, and it will be found." + +"I know who has taken it," repeated Rostov in an unsteady voice, and +went to the door. + +"And I tell you, don't you dahe to do it!" shouted Denisov, +rushing at the cadet to restrain him. + +But Rostov pulled away his arm and, with as much anger as though +Denisov were his worst enemy, firmly fixed his eyes directly on his +face. + +"Do you understand what you're saying?" he said in a trembling +voice. "There was no one else in the room except myself. So that if it +is not so, then..." + +He could not finish, and ran out of the room. + +"Ah, may the devil take you and evewybody," were the last words +Rostov heard. + +Rostov went to Telyanin's quarters. + +"The master is not in, he's gone to headquarters," said Telyanin's +orderly. "Has something happened?" he added, surprised at the +cadet's troubled face. + +"No, nothing." + +"You've only just missed him," said the orderly. + +The headquarters were situated two miles away from Salzeneck, and +Rostov, without returning home, took a horse and rode there. There was +an inn in the village which the officers frequented. Rostov rode up to +it and saw Telyanin's horse at the porch. + +In the second room of the inn the lieutenant was sitting over a dish +of sausages and a bottle of wine. + +"Ah, you've come here too, young man!" he said, smiling and +raising his eyebrows. + +"Yes," said Rostov as if it cost him a great deal to utter the word; +and he sat down at the nearest table. + +Both were silent. There were two Germans and a Russian officer in +the room. No one spoke and the only sounds heard were the clatter of +knives and the munching of the lieutenant. + +When Telyanin had finished his lunch he took out of his pocket a +double purse and, drawing its rings aside with his small, white, +turned-up fingers, drew out a gold imperial, and lifting his +eyebrows gave it to the waiter. + +"Please be quick," he said. + +The coin was a new one. Rostov rose and went up to Telyanin. + +"Allow me to look at your purse," he said in a low, almost +inaudible, voice. + +With shifting eyes but eyebrows still raised, Telyanin handed him +the purse. + +"Yes, it's a nice purse. Yes, yes," he said, growing suddenly +pale, and added, "Look at it, young man." + +Rostov took the purse in his hand, examined it and the money in +it, and looked at Telyanin. The lieutenant was looking about in his +usual way and suddenly seemed to grow very merry. + +"If we get to Vienna I'll get rid of it there but in these +wretched little towns there's nowhere to spend it," said he. "Well, +let me have it, young man, I'm going." + +Rostov did not speak. + +"And you? Are you going to have lunch too? They feed you quite +decently here," continued Telyanin. "Now then, let me have it." + +He stretched out his hand to take hold of the purse. Rostov let go +of it. Telyanin took the purse and began carelessly slipping it into +the pocket of his riding breeches, with his eyebrows lifted and his +mouth slightly open, as if to say, "Yes, yes, I am putting my purse in +my pocket and that's quite simple and is no else's business." + +"Well, young man?" he said with a sigh, and from under his lifted +brows he glanced into Rostov's eyes. + +Some flash as of an electric spark shot from Telyanin's eyes to +Rostov's and back, and back again and again in an instant. + +"Come here," said Rostov, catching hold of Telyanin's arm and almost +dragging him to the window. "That money is Denisov's; you took +it..." he whispered just above Telyanin's ear. + +"What? What? How dare you? What?" said Telyanin. + +But these words came like a piteous, despairing cry and an +entreaty for pardon. As soon as Rostov heard them, an enormous load of +doubt fell from him. He was glad, and at the same instant began to +pity the miserable man who stood before him, but the task he had begun +had to be completed. + +"Heaven only knows what the people here may imagine," muttered +Telyanin, taking up his cap and moving toward a small empty room. +"We must have an explanation..." + +"I know it and shall prove it," said Rostov. + +"I..." + +Every muscle of Telyanin's pale, terrified face began to quiver, his +eyes still shifted from side to side but with a downward look not +rising to Rostov's face, and his sobs were audible. + +"Count!... Don't ruin a young fellow... here is this wretched money, +take it..." He threw it on the table. "I have an old father and +mother!..." + +Rostov took the money, avoiding Telyanin's eyes, and went out of the +room without a word. But at the door he stopped and then retraced +his steps. "O God," he said with tears in his eyes, "how could you +do it?" + +"Count..." said Telyanin drawing nearer to him. + +"Don't touch me," said Rostov, drawing back. "If you need it, take +the money," and he threw the purse to him and ran out of the inn. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +That same evening there was an animated discussion among the +squadron's officers in Denisov's quarters. + +"And I tell you, Rostov, that you must apologize to the colonel!" +said a tall, grizzly-haired staff captain, with enormous mustaches and +many wrinkles on his large features, to Rostov who was crimson with +excitement. + +The staff captain, Kirsten, had twice been reduced to the ranks +for affairs of honor and had twice regained his commission. + +"I will allow no one to call me a liar!" cried Rostov. "He told me I +lied, and I told him he lied. And there it rests. He may keep me on +duty every day, or may place me under arrest, but no one can make me +apologize, because if he, as commander of this regiment, thinks it +beneath his dignity to give me satisfaction, then..." + +"You just wait a moment, my dear fellow, and listen," interrupted +the staff captain in his deep bass, calmly stroking his long mustache. +"You tell the colonel in the presence of other officers that an +officer has stolen..." + +"I'm not to blame that the conversation began in the presence of +other officers. Perhaps I ought not to have spoken before them, but +I am not a diplomatist. That's why I joined the hussars, thinking that +here one would not need finesse; and he tells me that I am lying--so +let him give me satisfaction..." + +"That's all right. No one thinks you a coward, but that's not the +point. Ask Denisov whether it is not out of the question for a cadet +to demand satisfaction of his regimental commander?" + +Denisov sat gloomily biting his mustache and listening to the +conversation, evidently with no wish to take part in it. He answered +the staff captain's question by a disapproving shake of his head. + +"You speak to the colonel about this nasty business before other +officers," continued the staff captain, "and Bogdanich" (the colonel +was called Bogdanich) "shuts you up." + +"He did not shut me up, he said I was telling an untruth." + +"Well, have it so, and you talked a lot of nonsense to him and +must apologize." + +"Not on any account!" exclaimed Rostov. + +"I did not expect this of you," said the staff captain seriously and +severely. "You don't wish to apologize, but, man, it's not only to him +but to the whole regiment--all of us--you're to blame all round. The +case is this: you ought to have thought the matter over and taken +advice; but no, you go and blurt it all straight out before the +officers. Now what was the colonel to do? Have the officer tried and +disgrace the whole regiment? Disgrace the whole regiment because of +one scoundrel? Is that how you look at it? We don't see it like +that. And Bogdanich was a brick: he told you you were saying what +was not true. It's not pleasant, but what's to be done, my dear +fellow? You landed yourself in it. And now, when one wants to smooth +the thing over, some conceit prevents your apologizing, and you wish +to make the whole affair public. You are offended at being put on duty +a bit, but why not apologize to an old and honorable officer? Whatever +Bogdanich may be, anyway he is an honorable and brave old colonel! +You're quick at taking offense, but you don't mind disgracing the +whole regiment!" The staff captain's voice began to tremble. "You have +been in the regiment next to no time, my lad, you're here today and +tomorrow you'll be appointed adjutant somewhere and can snap your +fingers when it is said 'There are thieves among the Pavlograd +officers!' But it's not all the same to us! Am I not right, Denisov? +It's not the same!" + +Denisov remained silent and did not move, but occasionally looked +with his glittering black eyes at Rostov. + +"You value your own pride and don't wish to apologize," continued +the staff captain, "but we old fellows, who have grown up in and, +God willing, are going to die in the regiment, we prize the honor of +the regiment, and Bogdanich knows it. Oh, we do prize it, old +fellow! And all this is not right, it's not right! You may take +offense or not but I always stick to mother truth. It's not right!" + +And the staff captain rose and turned away from Rostov. + +"That's twue, devil take it!" shouted Denisov, jumping up. "Now then, +Wostov, now then!" + + Rostov, growing red and pale alternately, looked first at one +officer and then at the other. + +"No, gentlemen, no... you mustn't think... I quite understand. +You're wrong to think that of me... I... for me... for the honor of +the regiment I'd... Ah well, I'll show that in action, and for me +the honor of the flag... Well, never mind, it's true I'm to blame, +to blame all round. Well, what else do you want?..." + +"Come, that's right, Count!" cried the staff captain, turning +round and clapping Rostov on the shoulder with his big hand. + +"I tell you," shouted Denisov, "he's a fine fellow." + +"That's better, Count," said the staff captain, beginning to address +Rostov by his title, as if in recognition of his confession. "Go and +apologize, your excellency. Yes, go!" + +"Gentlemen, I'll do anything. No one shall hear a word from me," +said Rostov in an imploring voice, "but I can't apologize, by God I +can't, do what you will! How can I go and apologize like a little +boy asking forgiveness?" + +Denisov began to laugh. + +"It'll be worse for you. Bogdanich is vindictive and you'll pay +for your obstinacy," said Kirsten. + +"No, on my word it's not obstinacy! I can't describe the feeling. +I can't..." + +"Well, it's as you like," said the staff captain. "And what has +become of that scoundrel?" he asked Denisov. + +"He has weported himself sick, he's to be stwuck off the list +tomowwow," muttered Denisov. + +"It is an illness, there's no other way of explaining it," said +the staff captain. + +"Illness or not, he'd better not cwoss my path. I'd kill him!" +shouted Denisov in a bloodthirsty tone. + +Just then Zherkov entered the room. + +"What brings you here?" cried the officers turning to the newcomer. + +"We're to go into action, gentlemen! Mack has surrendered with his +whole army." + +"It's not true!" + +"I've seen him myself!" + +"What? Saw the real Mack? With hands and feet?" + +"Into action! Into action! Bring him a bottle for such news! But how +did you come here?" + +"I've been sent back to the regiment all on account of that devil, +Mack. An Austrian general complained of me. I congratulated him on +Mack's arrival... What's the matter, Rostov? You look as if you'd just +come out of a hot bath." + +"Oh, my dear fellow, we're in such a stew here these last two days." + +The regimental adjutant came in and confirmed the news brought by +Zherkov. They were under orders to advance next day. + +"We're going into action, gentlemen!" + +"Well, thank God! We've been sitting here too long!" + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Kutuzov fell back toward Vienna, destroying behind him the bridges +over the rivers Inn (at Braunau) and Traun (near Linz). On October +23 the Russian troops were crossing the river Enns. At midday the +Russian baggage train, the artillery, and columns of troops were +defiling through the town of Enns on both sides of the bridge. + +It was a warm, rainy, autumnal day. The wide expanse that opened out +before the heights on which the Russian batteries stood guarding the +bridge was at times veiled by a diaphanous curtain of slanting rain, +and then, suddenly spread out in the sunlight, far-distant objects +could be clearly seen glittering as though freshly varnished. Down +below, the little town could be seen with its white, red-roofed +houses, its cathedral, and its bridge, on both sides of which streamed +jostling masses of Russian troops. At the bend of the Danube, vessels, +an island, and a castle with a park surrounded by the waters of the +confluence of the Enns and the Danube became visible, and the rocky +left bank of the Danube covered with pine forests, with a mystic +background of green treetops and bluish gorges. The turrets of a +convent stood out beyond a wild virgin pine forest, and far away on +the other side of the Enns the enemy's horse patrols could be +discerned. + +Among the field guns on the brow of the hill the general in +command of the rearguard stood with a staff officer, scanning the +country through his fieldglass. A little behind them Nesvitski, who +had been sent to the rearguard by the commander in chief, was +sitting on the trail of a gun carriage. A Cossack who accompanied +him had handed him a knapsack and a flask, and Nesvitski was +treating some officers to pies and real doppelkummel. The officers +gladly gathered round him, some on their knees, some squatting Turkish +fashion on the wet grass. + +"Yes, the Austrian prince who built that castle was no fool. It's +a fine place! Why are you not eating anything, gentlemen?" Nesvitski +was saying. + +"Thank you very much, Prince," answered one of the officers, pleased +to be talking to a staff officer of such importance. "It's a lovely +place! We passed close to the park and saw two deer... and what a +splendid house!" + +"Look, Prince," said another, who would have dearly liked to take +another pie but felt shy, and therefore pretended to be examining +the countryside--"See, our infantrymen have already got there. Look +there in the meadow behind the village, three of them are dragging +something. They'll ransack that castle," he remarked with evident +approval. + +"So they will," said Nesvitski. "No, but what I should like," +added he, munching a pie in his moist-lipped handsome mouth, "would be +to slip in over there." + +He pointed with a smile to a turreted nunnery, and his eyes narrowed +and gleamed. + +"That would be fine, gentlemen!" + +The officers laughed. + +"Just to flutter the nuns a bit. They say there are Italian girls +among them. On my word I'd give five years of my life for it!" + +"They must be feeling dull, too," said one of the bolder officers, +laughing. + +Meanwhile the staff officer standing in front pointed out +something to the general, who looked through his field glass. + +"Yes, so it is, so it is," said the general angrily, lowering the +field glass and shrugging his shoulders, "so it is! They'll be fired +on at the crossing. And why are they dawdling there?" + +On the opposite side the enemy could be seen by the naked eye, and +from their battery a milk-white cloud arose. Then came the distant +report of a shot, and our troops could be seen hurrying to the +crossing. + +Nesvitski rose, puffing, and went up to the general, smiling. + +"Would not your excellency like a little refreshment?" he said. + +"It's a bad business," said the general without answering him, +"our men have been wasting time." + +"Hadn't I better ride over, your excellency?" asked Nesvitski. + +"Yes, please do," answered the general, and he repeated the order +that had already once been given in detail: "and tell the hussars that +they are to cross last and to fire the bridge as I ordered; and the +inflammable material on the bridge must be reinspected." + +"Very good," answered Nesvitski. + +He called the Cossack with his horse, told him to put away the +knapsack and flask, and swung his heavy person easily into the saddle. + +"I'll really call in on the nuns," he said to the officers who +watched him smilingly, and he rode off by the winding path down the +hill. + +"Now then, let's see how far it will carry, Captain. Just try!" said +the general, turning to an artillery officer. "Have a little fun to +pass the time." + +"Crew, to your guns!" commanded the officer. + +In a moment the men came running gaily from their campfires and +began loading. + +"One!" came the command. + +Number one jumped briskly aside. The gun rang out with a deafening +metallic roar, and a whistling grenade flew above the heads of our +troops below the hill and fell far short of the enemy, a little +smoke showing the spot where it burst. + +The faces of officers and men brightened up at the sound. Everyone +got up and began watching the movements of our troops below, as +plainly visible as if but a stone's throw away, and the movements of +the approaching enemy farther off. At the same instant the sun came +fully out from behind the clouds, and the clear sound of the +solitary shot and the brilliance of the bright sunshine merged in a +single joyous and spirited impression. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Two of the enemy's shots had already flown across the bridge, +where there was a crush. Halfway across stood Prince Nesvitski, who +had alighted from his horse and whose big body was jammed +against the railings. He looked back laughing to the Cossack who stood +a few steps behind him holding two horses by their bridles. Each +time Prince Nesvitski tried to move on, soldiers and carts pushed +him back again and pressed him against the railings, and all he +could do was to smile. + +"What a fine fellow you are, friend!" said the Cossack to a convoy +soldier with a wagon, who was pressing onto the infantrymen who were +crowded together close to his wheels and his horses. "What a fellow! +You can't wait a moment! Don't you see the general wants to pass?" + +But the convoyman took no notice of the word "general" and shouted +at the soldiers who were blocking his way. "Hi there, boys! Keep to +the left! Wait a bit." But the soldiers, crowded together shoulder +to shoulder, their bayonets interlocking, moved over the bridge in a +dense mass. Looking down over the rails Prince Nesvitski saw the +rapid, noisy little waves of the Enns, which rippling and eddying +round the piles of the bridge chased each other along. Looking on +the bridge he saw equally uniform living waves of soldiers, shoulder +straps, covered shakos, knapsacks, bayonets, long muskets, and, +under the shakos, faces with broad cheekbones, sunken cheeks, and +listless tired expressions, and feet that moved through the sticky mud +that covered the planks of the bridge. Sometimes through the +monotonous waves of men, like a fleck of white foam on the waves of +the Enns, an officer, in a cloak and with a type of face different +from that of the men, squeezed his way along; sometimes like a chip of +wood whirling in the river, an hussar on foot, an orderly, or a +townsman was carried through the waves of infantry; and sometimes like +a log floating down the river, an officers' or company's baggage +wagon, piled high, leather covered, and hemmed in on all sides, +moved across the bridge. + +"It's as if a dam had burst," said the Cossack hopelessly. "Are +there many more of you to come?" + +"A million all but one!" replied a waggish soldier in a torn coat, +with a wink, and passed on followed by another, an old man. + +"If he" (he meant the enemy) "begins popping at the bridge now," +said the old soldier dismally to a comrade, "you'll forget to +scratch yourself." + +That soldier passed on, and after him came another sitting on a +cart. + +"Where the devil have the leg bands been shoved to?" said an +orderly, running behind the cart and fumbling in the back of it. + +And he also passed on with the wagon. Then came some merry +soldiers who had evidently been drinking. + +"And then, old fellow, he gives him one in the teeth with the butt +end of his gun..." a soldier whose greatcoat was well tucked up said +gaily, with a wide swing of his arm. + +"Yes, the ham was just delicious..." answered another with a loud +laugh. And they, too, passed on, so that Nesvitski did not learn who +had been struck on the teeth, or what the ham had to do with it. + +"Bah! How they scurry. He just sends a ball and they think they'll +all be killed," a sergeant was saying angrily and reproachfully. + +"As it flies past me, Daddy, the ball I mean," said a young +soldier with an enormous mouth, hardly refraining from laughing, "I +felt like dying of fright. I did, 'pon my word, I got that +frightened!" said he, as if bragging of having been frightened. + +That one also passed. Then followed a cart unlike any that had +gone before. It was a German cart with a pair of horses led by a +German, and seemed loaded with a whole houseful of effects. A fine +brindled cow with a large udder was attached to the cart behind. A +woman with an unweaned baby, an old woman, and a healthy German girl +with bright red cheeks were sitting on some feather beds. Evidently +these fugitives were allowed to pass by special permission. The eyes +of all the soldiers turned toward the women, and while the vehicle was +passing at foot pace all the soldiers' remarks related to the two +young ones. Every face bore almost the same smile, expressing unseemly +thoughts about the women. + +"Just see, the German sausage is making tracks, too!" + +"Sell me the missis," said another soldier, addressing the German, +who, angry and frightened, strode energetically along with downcast +eyes. + +"See how smart she's made herself! Oh, the devils!" + +"There, Fedotov, you should be quartered on them!" + +"I have seen as much before now, mate!" + +"Where are you going?" asked an infantry officer who was eating an +apple, also half smiling as he looked at the handsome girl. + +The German closed his eyes, signifying that he did not understand. + +"Take it if you like," said the officer, giving the girl an apple. + +The girl smiled and took it. Nesvitski like the rest of the men on +the bridge did not take his eyes off the women till they had passed. +When they had gone by, the same stream of soldiers followed, with +the same kind of talk, and at last all stopped. As often happens, +the horses of a convoy wagon became restive at the end of the +bridge, and the whole crowd had to wait. + +"And why are they stopping? There's no proper order!" said the +soldiers. "Where are you shoving to? Devil take you! Can't you wait? +It'll be worse if he fires the bridge. See, here's an officer jammed +in too"--different voices were saying in the crowd, as the men +looked at one another, and all pressed toward the exit from the +bridge. + +Looking down at the waters of the Enns under the bridge, Nesvitski +suddenly heard a sound new to him, of something swiftly approaching... +something big, that splashed into the water. + +"Just see where it carries to!" a soldier near by said sternly, +looking round at the sound. + +"Encouraging us to get along quicker," said another uneasily. + +The crowd moved on again. Nesvitski realized that it was a cannon +ball. + +"Hey, Cossack, my horse!" he said. "Now, then, you there! get out of +the way! Make way!" + +With great difficulty he managed to get to his horse, and shouting +continually he moved on. The soldiers squeezed themselves to make +way for him, but again pressed on him so that they jammed his leg, and +those nearest him were not to blame for they were themselves pressed +still harder from behind. + +"Nesvitski, Nesvitski! you numskull!" came a hoarse voice from +behind him. + +Nesvitski looked round and saw, some fifteen paces away but +separated by the living mass of moving infantry, Vaska Denisov, red +and shaggy, with his cap on the back of his black head and a cloak +hanging jauntily over his shoulder. + +"Tell these devils, these fiends, to let me pass!" shouted Denisov +evidently in a fit of rage, his coal-black eyes with their bloodshot +whites glittering and rolling as he waved his sheathed saber in a +small bare hand as red as his face. + +"Ah, Vaska!" joyfully replied Nesvitski. "What's up with you?" + +"The squadwon can't pass," shouted Vaska Denisov, showing his +white teeth fiercely and spurring his black thoroughbred Arab, which +twitched its ears as the bayonets touched it, and snorted, spurting +white foam from his bit, tramping the planks of the bridge with his +hoofs, and apparently ready to jump over the railings had his rider +let him. "What is this? They're like sheep! Just like sheep! Out of +the way!... Let us pass!... Stop there, you devil with the cart! +I'll hack you with my saber!" he shouted, actually drawing his saber +from its scabbard and flourishing it. + +The soldiers crowded against one another with terrified faces, and +Denisov joined Nesvitski. + +"How's it you're not drunk today?" said Nesvitski when the other had +ridden up to him. + +"They don't even give one time to dwink!" answered Vaska Denisov. +"They keep dwagging the wegiment to and fwo all day. If they mean to +fight, let's fight. But the devil knows what this is." + +"What a dandy you are today!" said Nesvitski, looking at Denisov's +new cloak and saddlecloth. + +Denisov smiled, took out of his sabretache a handkerchief that +diffused a smell of perfume, and put it to Nesvitski's nose. + +"Of course. I'm going into action! I've shaved, bwushed my teeth, +and scented myself." + +The imposing figure of Nesvitski followed by his Cossack, and the +determination of Denisov who flourished his sword and shouted +frantically, had such an effect that they managed to squeeze through +to the farther side of the bridge and stopped the infantry. Beside the +bridge Nesvitski found the colonel to whom he had to deliver the +order, and having done this he rode back. + +Having cleared the way Denisov stopped at the end of the bridge. +Carelessly holding in his stallion that was neighing and pawing the +ground, eager to rejoin its fellows, he watched his squadron draw +nearer. Then the clang of hoofs, as of several horses galloping, +resounded on the planks of the bridge, and the squadron, officers in +front and men four abreast, spread across the bridge and began to +emerge on his side of it. + +The infantry who had been stopped crowded near the bridge in the +trampled mud and gazed with that particular feeling of ill-will, +estrangement, and ridicule with which troops of different arms usually +encounter one another at the clean, smart hussars who moved past +them in regular order. + +"Smart lads! Only fit for a fair!" said one. + +"What good are they? They're led about just for show!" remarked +another. + +"Don't kick up the dust, you infantry!" jested an hussar whose +prancing horse had splashed mud over some foot soldiers. + +"I'd like to put you on a two days' march with a knapsack! Your fine +cords would soon get a bit rubbed," said an infantryman, wiping the +mud off his face with his sleeve. "Perched up there, you're more +like a bird than a man." + +"There now, Zikin, they ought to put you on a horse. You'd look +fine," said a corporal, chaffing a thin little soldier who bent +under the weight of his knapsack. + +"Take a stick between your legs, that'll suit you for a horse!" +the hussar shouted back. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The last of the infantry hurriedly crossed the bridge, squeezing +together as they approached it as if passing through a funnel. At last +the baggage wagons had all crossed, the crush was less, and the last +battalion came onto the bridge. Only Denisov's squadron of hussars +remained on the farther side of the bridge facing the enemy, who could +be seen from the hill on the opposite bank but was not yet visible +from the bridge, for the horizon as seen from the valley through which +the river flowed was formed by the rising ground only half a mile +away. At the foot of the hill lay wasteland over which a few groups of +our Cossack scouts were moving. Suddenly on the road at the top of the +high ground, artillery and troops in blue uniform were seen. These +were the French. A group of Cossack scouts retired down the hill at +a trot. All the officers and men of Denisov's squadron, though they +tried to talk of other things and to look in other directions, thought +only of what was there on the hilltop, and kept constantly looking +at the patches appearing on the skyline, which they knew to be the +enemy's troops. The weather had cleared again since noon and the sun +was descending brightly upon the Danube and the dark hills around +it. It was calm, and at intervals the bugle calls and the shouts of +the enemy could be heard from the hill. There was no one now between +the squadron and the enemy except a few scattered skirmishers. An +empty space of some seven hundred yards was all that separated them. +The enemy ceased firing, and that stern, threatening, inaccessible, +and intangible line which separates two hostile armies was all the +more clearly felt. + +"One step beyond that boundary line which resembles the line +dividing the living from the dead lies uncertainty, suffering, and +death. And what is there? Who is there?--there beyond that field, that +tree, that roof lit up by the sun? No one knows, but one wants to +know. You fear and yet long to cross that line, and know that sooner +or later it must be crossed and you will have to find out what is +there, just as you will inevitably have to learn what lies the other +side of death. But you are strong, healthy, cheerful, and excited, and +are surrounded by other such excitedly animated and healthy men." So +thinks, or at any rate feels, anyone who comes in sight of the +enemy, and that feeling gives a particular glamour and glad keenness +of impression to everything that takes place at such moments. + +On the high ground where the enemy was, the smoke of a cannon +rose, and a ball flew whistling over the heads of the hussar squadron. +The officers who had been standing together rode off to their +places. The hussars began carefully aligning their horses. Silence +fell on the whole squadron. All were looking at the enemy in front and +at the squadron commander, awaiting the word of command. A second +and a third cannon ball flew past. Evidently they were firing at the +hussars, but the balls with rapid rhythmic whistle flew over the heads +of the horsemen and fell somewhere beyond them. The hussars did not +look round, but at the sound of each shot, as at the word of +command, the whole squadron with its rows of faces so alike yet so +different, holding its breath while the ball flew past, rose in the +stirrups and sank back again. The soldiers without turning their heads +glanced at one another, curious to see their comrades' impression. +Every face, from Denisov's to that of the bugler, showed one common +expression of conflict, irritation, and excitement, around chin and +mouth. The quartermaster frowned, looking at the soldiers as if +threatening to punish them. Cadet Mironov ducked every time a ball +flew past. Rostov on the left flank, mounted on his Rook--a handsome +horse despite its game leg--had the happy air of a schoolboy called up +before a large audience for an examination in which he feels sure he +will distinguish himself. He was glancing at everyone with a clear, +bright expression, as if asking them to notice how calmly he sat under +fire. But despite himself, on his face too that same indication of +something new and stern showed round the mouth. + +"Who's that curtseying there? Cadet Miwonov! That's not wight! +Look at me," cried Denisov who, unable to keep still on one spot, kept +turning his horse in front of the squadron. + +The black, hairy, snub-nosed face of Vaska Denisov, and his whole +short sturdy figure with the sinewy hairy hand and stumpy fingers in +which he held the hilt of his naked saber, looked just as it usually +did, especially toward evening when he had emptied his second +bottle; he was only redder than usual. With his shaggy head thrown +back like birds when they drink, pressing his spurs mercilessly into +the sides of his good horse, Bedouin, and sitting as though falling +backwards in the saddle, he galloped to the other flank of the +squadron and shouted in a hoarse voice to the men to look to their +pistols. He rode up to Kirsten. The staff captain on his broad-backed, +steady mare came at a walk to meet him. His face with its long +mustache was serious as always, only his eyes were brighter than +usual. + +"Well, what about it?" said he to Denisov. "It won't come to a +fight. You'll see--we shall retire." + +"The devil only knows what they're about!" muttered Denisov. "Ah, +Wostov," he cried noticing the cadet's bright face, "you've got it +at last." + +And he smiled approvingly, evidently pleased with the cadet. +Rostov felt perfectly happy. Just then the commander appeared on the +bridge. Denisov galloped up to him. + +"Your excellency! Let us attack them! I'll dwive them off." + +"Attack indeed!" said the colonel in a bored voice, puckering up his +face as if driving off a troublesome fly. "And why are you stopping +here? Don't you see the skirmishers are retreating? Lead the +squadron back." + +The squadron crossed the bridge and drew out of range of fire +without having lost a single man. The second squadron that had been in +the front line followed them across and the last Cossacks quitted +the farther side of the river. + +The two Pavlograd squadrons, having crossed the bridge, retired up +the hill one after the other. Their colonel, Karl Bogdanich +Schubert, came up to Denisov's squadron and rode at a footpace not far +from Rostov, without taking any notice of him although they were now +meeting for the first time since their encounter concerning +Telyanin. Rostov, feeling that he was at the front and in the power of +a man toward whom he now admitted that he had been to blame, did not +lift his eyes from the colonel's athletic back, his nape covered +with light hair, and his red neck. It seemed to Rostov that +Bogdanich was only pretending not to notice him, and that his whole +aim now was to test the cadet's courage, so he drew himself up and +looked around him merrily; then it seemed to him that Bogdanich rode +so near in order to show him his courage. Next he thought that his +enemy would send the squadron on a desperate attack just to punish +him--Rostov. Then he imagined how, after the attack, Bogdanich would +come up to him as he lay wounded and would magnanimously extend the +hand of reconciliation. + +The high-shouldered figure of Zherkov, familiar to the Pavlograds as +he had but recently left their regiment, rode up to the colonel. After +his dismissal from headquarters Zherkov had not remained in the +regiment, saying he was not such a fool as to slave at the front +when he could get more rewards by doing nothing on the staff, and +had succeeded in attaching himself as an orderly officer to Prince +Bagration. He now came to his former chief with an order from the +commander of the rear guard. + +"Colonel," he said, addressing Rostov's enemy with an air of +gloomy gravity and glancing round at his comrades, "there is an +order to stop and fire the bridge." + +"An order to who?" asked the colonel morosely. + +"I don't myself know 'to who,'" replied the cornet in a serious +tone, "but the prince told me to 'go and tell the colonel that the +hussars must return quickly and fire the bridge.'" + +Zherkov was followed by an officer of the suite who rode up to the +colonel of hussars with the same order. After him the stout +Nesvitski came galloping up on a Cossack horse that could scarcely +carry his weight. + +"How's this, Colonel?" he shouted as he approached. "I told you to +fire the bridge, and now someone has gone and blundered; they are +all beside themselves over there and one can't make anything out." + +The colonel deliberately stopped the regiment and turned to +Nesvitski. + +"You spoke to me of inflammable material," said he, "but you said +nothing about firing it." + +"But, my dear sir," said Nesvitski as he drew up, taking off his cap +and smoothing his hair wet with perspiration with his plump hand, +"wasn't I telling you to fire the bridge, when inflammable material +had been put in position?" + +"I am not your 'dear sir,' Mr. Staff Officer, and you did not tell +me to burn the bridge! I know the service, and it is my habit orders +strictly to obey. You said the bridge would be burned, but who would +it burn, I could not know by the holy spirit!" + +"Ah, that's always the way!" said Nesvitski with a wave of the hand. +"How did you get here?" said he, turning to Zherkov. + +"On the same business. But you are damp! Let me wring you out!" + +"You were saying, Mr. Staff Officer..." continued the colonel in +an offended tone. + +"Colonel," interrupted the officer of the suite, "You must be +quick or the enemy will bring up his guns to use grapeshot." + +The colonel looked silently at the officer of the suite, at the +stout staff officer, and at Zherkov, and he frowned. + +"I will the bridge fire," he said in a solemn tone as if to announce +that in spite of all the unpleasantness he had to endure he would +still do the right thing. + +Striking his horse with his long muscular legs as if it were to +blame for everything, the colonel moved forward and ordered the second +squadron, that in which Rostov was serving under Denisov, to return to +the bridge. + +"There, it's just as I thought," said Rostov to himself. "He +wishes to test me!" His heart contracted and the blood rushed to his +face. "Let him see whether I am a coward!" he thought. + +Again on all the bright faces of the squadron the serious expression +appeared that they had worn when under fire. Rostov watched his enemy, +the colonel, closely--to find in his face confirmation of his own +conjecture, but the colonel did not once glance at Rostov, and +looked as he always did when at the front, solemn and stern. Then came +the word of command. + +"Look sharp! Look sharp!" several voices repeated around him. + +Their sabers catching in the bridles and their spurs jingling, the +hussars hastily dismounted, not knowing what they were to do. The +men were crossing themselves. Rostov no longer looked at the +colonel, he had no time. He was afraid of falling behind the +hussars, so much afraid that his heart stood still. His hand +trembled as he gave his horse into an orderly's charge, and he felt +the blood rush to his heart with a thud. Denisov rode past him, +leaning back and shouting something. Rostov saw nothing but the +hussars running all around him, their spurs catching and their +sabers clattering. + +"Stretchers!" shouted someone behind him. + +Rostov did not think what this call for stretchers meant; he ran on, +trying only to be ahead of the others; but just at the bridge, not +looking at the ground, he came on some sticky, trodden mud, +stumbled, and fell on his hands. The others outstripped him. + +"At boss zides, Captain," he heard the voice of the colonel, who, +having ridden ahead, had pulled up his horse near the bridge, with a +triumphant, cheerful face. + +Rostov wiping his muddy hands on his breeches looked at his enemy +and was about to run on, thinking that the farther he went to the +front the better. But Bogdanich, without looking at or recognizing +Rostov, shouted to him: + +"Who's that running on the middle of the bridge? To the right! +Come back, Cadet!" he cried angrily; and turning to Denisov, who, +showing off his courage, had ridden on to the planks of the bridge: + +"Why run risks, Captain? You should dismount," he said. + +"Oh, every bullet has its billet," answered Vaska Denisov, turning +in his saddle. + + +Meanwhile Nesvitski, Zherkov, and the officer of the suite were +standing together out of range of the shots, watching, now the small +group of men with yellow shakos, dark-green jackets braided with cord, +and blue riding breeches, who were swarming near the bridge, and +then at what was approaching in the distance from the opposite side- +the blue uniforms and groups with horses, easily recognizable as +artillery. + +"Will they burn the bridge or not? Who'll get there first? Will they +get there and fire the bridge or will the French get within +grapeshot range and wipe them out?" These were the questions each +man of the troops on the high ground above the bridge involuntarily +asked himself with a sinking heart--watching the bridge and the +hussars in the bright evening light and the blue tunics advancing from +the other side with their bayonets and guns. + +"Ugh. The hussars will get it hot!" said Nesvitski; "they are within +grapeshot range now." + +"He shouldn't have taken so many men," said the officer of the +suite. + +"True enough," answered Nesvitski; "two smart fellows could have +done the job just as well." + +"Ah, your excellency," put in Zherkov, his eyes fixed on the +hussars, but still with that naive air that made it impossible to know +whether he was speaking in jest or in earnest. "Ah, your excellency! +How you look at things! Send two men? And who then would give us the +Vladimir medal and ribbon? But now, even if they do get peppered, +the squadron may be recommended for honors and he may get a ribbon. +Our Bogdanich knows how things are done." + +"There now!" said the officer of the suite, "that's grapeshot." + +He pointed to the French guns, the limbers of which were being +detached and hurriedly removed. + +On the French side, amid the groups with cannon, a cloud of smoke +appeared, then a second and a third almost simultaneously, and at +the moment when the first report was heard a fourth was seen. Then two +reports one after another, and a third. + +"Oh! Oh!" groaned Nesvitski as if in fierce pain, seizing the +officer of the suite by the arm. "Look! A man has fallen! Fallen, +fallen!" + +"Two, I think." + +"If I were Tsar I would never go to war," said Nesvitski, turning +away. + +The French guns were hastily reloaded. The infantry in their blue +uniforms advanced toward the bridge at a run. Smoke appeared again but +at irregular intervals, and grapeshot cracked and rattled onto the +bridge. But this time Nesvitski could not see what was happening +there, as a dense cloud of smoke arose from it. The hussars had +succeeded in setting it on fire and the French batteries were now +firing at them, no longer to hinder them but because the guns were +trained and there was someone to fire at. + +The French had time to fire three rounds of grapeshot before the +hussars got back to their horses. Two were misdirected and the shot +went too high, but the last round fell in the midst of a group of +hussars and knocked three of them over. + +Rostov, absorbed by his relations with Bogdanich, had paused on +the bridge not knowing what to do. There was no one to hew down (as he +had always imagined battles to himself), nor could he help to fire the +bridge because he had not brought any burning straw with him like +the other soldiers. He stood looking about him, when suddenly he heard +a rattle on the bridge as if nuts were being spilt, and the hussar +nearest to him fell against the rails with a groan. Rostov ran up to +him with the others. Again someone shouted, "Stretchers!" Four men +seized the hussar and began lifting him. + +"Oooh! For Christ's sake let me alone!" cried the wounded man, but +still he was lifted and laid on the stretcher. + +Nicholas Rostov turned away and, as if searching for something, +gazed into the distance, at the waters of the Danube, at the sky, +and at the sun. How beautiful the sky looked; how blue, how calm, +and how deep! How bright and glorious was the setting sun! With what +soft glitter the waters of the distant Danube shone. And fairer +still were the faraway blue mountains beyond the river, the nunnery, +the mysterious gorges, and the pine forests veiled in the mist of +their summits... There was peace and happiness... "I should wishing +for nothing else, nothing, if only I were there," thought Rostov. +"In myself alone and in that sunshine there is so much happiness; +but here... groans, suffering, fear, and this uncertainty and hurry... +There--they are shouting again, and again are all running back +somewhere, and I shall run with them, and it, death, is here above +me and around... Another instant and I shall never again see the +sun, this water, that gorge!..." + +At that instant the sun began to hide behind the clouds, and other +stretchers came into view before Rostov. And the fear of death and +of the stretchers, and love of the sun and of life, all merged into +one feeling of sickening agitation. + +"O Lord God! Thou who art in that heaven, save, forgive, and protect +me!" Rostov whispered. + +The hussars ran back to the men who held their horses; their +voices sounded louder and calmer, the stretchers disappeared from +sight. + +"Well, fwiend? So you've smelt powdah!" shouted Vaska Denisov just +above his ear. + +"It's all over; but I am a coward--yes, a coward!" thought Rostov, +and sighing deeply he took Rook, his horse, which stood resting one +foot, from the orderly and began to mount. + +"Was that grapeshot?" he asked Denisov. + +"Yes and no mistake!" cried Denisov. "You worked like wegular bwicks +and it's nasty work! An attack's pleasant work! Hacking away at the +dogs! But this sort of thing is the very devil, with them shooting +at you like a target." + +And Denisov rode up to a group that had stopped near Rostov, +composed of the colonel, Nesvitski, Zherkov, and the officer from +the suite. + +"Well, it seems that no one has noticed," thought Rostov. And this +was true. No one had taken any notice, for everyone knew the sensation +which the cadet under fire for the first time had experienced. + +"Here's something for you to report," said Zherkov. "See if I +don't get promoted to a sublieutenancy." + +"Inform the prince that I the bridge fired!" said the colonel +triumphantly and gaily. + +"And if he asks about the losses?" + +"A trifle," said the colonel in his bass voice: "two hussars +wounded, and one knocked out," he added, unable to restrain a happy +smile, and pronouncing the phrase "knocked out" with ringing +distinctness. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Pursued by the French army of a hundred thousand men under the +command of Bonaparte, encountering a population that was unfriendly to +it, losing confidence in its allies, suffering from shortness of +supplies, and compelled to act under conditions of war unlike anything +that had been foreseen, the Russian army of thirty-five thousand men +commanded by Kutuzov was hurriedly retreating along the Danube, +stopping where overtaken by the enemy and fighting rearguard actions +only as far as necessary to enable it to retreat without losing its +heavy equipment. There had been actions at Lambach, Amstetten, and +Melk; but despite the courage and endurance--acknowledged even by +the enemy--with which the Russians fought, the only consequence of +these actions was a yet more rapid retreat. Austrian troops that had +escaped capture at Ulm and had joined Kutuzov at Braunau now separated +from the Russian army, and Kutuzov was left with only his own weak and +exhausted forces. The defense of Vienna was no longer to be thought +of. Instead of an offensive, the plan of which, carefully prepared +in accord with the modern science of strategics, had been handed to +Kutuzov when he was in Vienna by the Austrian Hofkriegsrath, the +sole and almost unattainable aim remaining for him was to effect a +junction with the forces that were advancing from Russia, without +losing his army as Mack had done at Ulm. + +On the twenty-eighth of October Kutuzov with his army crossed to the +left bank of the Danube and took up a position for the first time with +the river between himself and the main body of the French. On the +thirtieth he attacked Mortier's division, which was on the left +bank, and broke it up. In this action for the first time trophies were +taken: banners, cannon, and two enemy generals. For the first time, +after a fortnight's retreat, the Russian troops had halted and after a +fight had not only held the field but had repulsed the French. +Though the troops were ill-clad, exhausted, and had lost a third of +their number in killed, wounded, sick, and stragglers; though a number +of sick and wounded had been abandoned on the other side of the Danube +with a letter in which Kutuzov entrusted them to the humanity of the +enemy; and though the big hospitals and the houses in Krems +converted into military hospitals could no longer accommodate all +the sick and wounded, yet the stand made at Krems and the victory over +Mortier raised the spirits of the army considerably. Throughout the +whole army and at headquarters most joyful though erroneous rumors +were rife of the imaginary approach of columns from Russia, of some +victory gained by the Austrians, and of the retreat of the +frightened Bonaparte. + +Prince Andrew during the battle had been in attendance on the +Austrian General Schmidt, who was killed in the action. His horse +had been wounded under him and his own arm slightly grazed by a +bullet. As a mark of the commander in chief's special favor he was +sent with the news of this victory to the Austrian court, now no +longer at Vienna (which was threatened by the French) but at Brunn. +Despite his apparently delicate build Prince Andrew could endure +physical fatigue far better than many very muscular men, and on the +night of the battle, having arrived at Krems excited but not weary, +with dispatches from Dokhturov to Kutuzov, he was sent immediately +with a special dispatch to Brunn. To be so sent meant not only a +reward but an important step toward promotion. + +The night was dark but starry, the road showed black in the snow +that had fallen the previous day--the day of the battle. Reviewing his +impressions of the recent battle, picturing pleasantly to himself +the impression his news of a victory would create, or recalling the +send-off given him by the commander in chief and his fellow +officers, Prince Andrew was galloping along in a post chaise +enjoying the feelings of a man who has at length begun to attain a +long-desired happiness. As soon as he closed his eyes his ears +seemed filled with the rattle of the wheels and the sensation of +victory. Then he began to imagine that the Russians were running +away and that he himself was killed, but he quickly roused himself +with a feeling of joy, as if learning afresh that this was not so +but that on the contrary the French had run away. He again recalled +all the details of the victory and his own calm courage during the +battle, and feeling reassured he dozed off.... The dark starry night +was followed by a bright cheerful morning. The snow was thawing in the +sunshine, the horses galloped quickly, and on both sides of the road +were forests of different kinds, fields, and villages. + +At one of the post stations he overtook a convoy of Russian wounded. +The Russian officer in charge of the transport lolled back in the +front cart, shouting and scolding a soldier with coarse abuse. In each +of the long German carts six or more pale, dirty, bandaged men were +being jolted over the stony road. Some of them were talking (he +heard Russian words), others were eating bread; the more severely +wounded looked silently, with the languid interest of sick children, +at the envoy hurrying past them. + +Prince Andrew told his driver to stop, and asked a soldier in what +action they had been wounded. "Day before yesterday, on the Danube," +answered the soldier. Prince Andrew took out his purse and gave the +soldier three gold pieces. + +"That's for them all," he said to the officer who came up. + +"Get well soon, lads!" he continued, turning to the soldiers. +"There's plenty to do still." + +"What news, sir?" asked the officer, evidently anxious to start a +conversation. + +"Good news!... Go on!" he shouted to the driver, and they galloped +on. + +It was already quite dark when Prince Andrew rattled over the +paved streets of Brunn and found himself surrounded by high buildings, +the lights of shops, houses, and street lamps, fine carriages, and all +that atmosphere of a large and active town which is always so +attractive to a soldier after camp life. Despite his rapid journey and +sleepless night, Prince Andrew when he drove up to the palace felt +even more vigorous and alert than he had done the day before. Only his +eyes gleamed feverishly and his thoughts followed one another with +extraordinary clearness and rapidity. He again vividly recalled the +details of the battle, no longer dim, but definite and in the +concise form in which he imagined himself stating them to +the Emperor Francis. He vividly imagined the casual questions that +might be put to him and the answers he would give. He expected to be +at once presented to the Emperor. At the chief entrance to the palace, +however, an official came running out to meet him, and learning that +he was a special messenger led him to another entrance. + +"To the right from the corridor, Euer Hochgeboren! There you will +find the adjutant on duty," said the official. "He will conduct you to +the Minister of War." + +The adjutant on duty, meeting Prince Andrew, asked him to wait, +and went in to the Minister of War. Five minutes later he returned and +bowing with particular courtesy ushered Prince Andrew before him along +a corridor to the cabinet where the Minister of War was at work. The +adjutant by his elaborate courtesy appeared to wish to ward off any +attempt at familiarity on the part of the Russian messenger. + +Prince Andrew's joyous feeling was considerably weakened as he +approached the door of the minister's room. He felt offended, and +without his noticing it the feeling of offense immediately turned into +one of disdain which was quite uncalled for. His fertile mind +instantly suggested to him a point of view which gave him a right to +despise the adjutant and the minister. "Away from the smell of powder, +they probably think it easy to gain victories!" he thought. His eyes +narrowed disdainfully, he entered the room of the Minister of War with +peculiarly deliberate steps. This feeling of disdain was heightened +when he saw the minister seated at a large table reading some papers +and making pencil notes on them, and for the first two or three +minutes taking no notice of his arrival. A wax candle stood at each +side of the minister's bent bald head with its gray temples. He went +on reading to the end, without raising his eyes at the opening of +the door and the sound of footsteps. + +"Take this and deliver it," said he to his adjutant, handing him the +papers and still taking no notice of the special messenger. + +Prince Andrew felt that either the actions of Kutuzov's army +interested the Minister of War less than any of the other matters he +was concerned with, or he wanted to give the Russian special messenger +that impression. "But that is a matter of perfect indifference to me," +he thought. The minister drew the remaining papers together, +arranged them evenly, and then raised his head. He had an intellectual +and distinctive head, but the instant he turned to Prince Andrew the +firm, intelligent expression on his face changed in a way evidently +deliberate and habitual to him. His face took on the stupid artificial +smile (which does not even attempt to hide its artificiality) of a man +who is continually receiving many petitioners one after another. + +"From General Field Marshal Kutuzov?" he asked. "I hope it is good +news? There has been an encounter with Mortier? A victory? It was high +time!" + +He took the dispatch which was addressed to him and began to read it +with a mournful expression. + +"Oh, my God! My God! Schmidt!" he exclaimed in German. "What a +calamity! What a calamity!" + +Having glanced through the dispatch he laid it on the table and +looked at Prince Andrew, evidently considering something. + +"Ah what a calamity! You say the affair was decisive? But Mortier is +not captured." Again he pondered. "I am very glad you have brought +good news, though Schmidt's death is a heavy price to pay for the +victory. His Majesty will no doubt wish to see you, but not today. I +thank you! You must have a rest. Be at the levee tomorrow after the +parade. However, I will let you know." + +The stupid smile, which had left his face while he was speaking, +reappeared. + +"Au revoir! Thank you very much. His Majesty will probably desire to +see you," he added, bowing his head. + +When Prince Andrew left the palace he felt that all the interest and +happiness the victory had afforded him had been now left in the +indifferent hands of the Minister of War and the polite adjutant. +The whole tenor of his thoughts instantaneously changed; the battle +seemed the memory of a remote event long past. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Prince Andrew stayed at Brunn with Bilibin, a Russian acquaintance +of his in the diplomatic service. + +"Ah, my dear prince! I could not have a more welcome visitor," +said Bilibin as he came out to meet Prince Andrew. "Franz, put the +prince's things in my bedroom," said he to the servant who was +ushering Bolkonski in. "So you're a messenger of victory, eh? +Splendid! And I am sitting here ill, as you see." + +After washing and dressing, Prince Andrew came into the diplomat's +luxurious study and sat down to the dinner prepared for him. Bilibin +settled down comfortably beside the fire. + +After his journey and the campaign during which he had been deprived +of all the comforts of cleanliness and all the refinements of life, +Prince Andrew felt a pleasant sense of repose among luxurious +surroundings such as he had been accustomed to from childhood. Besides +it was pleasant, after his reception by the Austrians, to speak if not +in Russian (for they were speaking French) at least with a Russian who +would, he supposed, share the general Russian antipathy to the +Austrians which was then particularly strong. + +Bilibin was a man of thirty-five, a bachelor, and of the same circle +as Prince Andrew. They had known each other previously in +Petersburg, but had become more intimate when Prince Andrew was in +Vienna with Kutuzov. Just as Prince Andrew was a young man who gave +promise of rising high in the military profession, so to an even +greater extent Bilibin gave promise of rising in his diplomatic +career. He still a young man but no longer a young diplomat, as he had +entered the service at the age of sixteen, had been in Paris and +Copenhagen, and now held a rather important post in Vienna. Both the +foreign minister and our ambassador in Vienna knew him and valued him. +He was not one of those many diplomats who are esteemed because they +have certain negative qualities, avoid doing certain things, and speak +French. He was one of those, who, liking work, knew how to do it, +and despite his indolence would sometimes spend a whole night at his +writing table. He worked well whatever the import of his work. It +was not the question "What for?" but the question "How?" that +interested him. What the diplomatic matter might be he did not care, +but it gave him great pleasure to prepare a circular, memorandum, or +report, skillfully, pointedly, and elegantly. Bilibin's services +were valued not only for what he wrote, but also for his skill in +dealing and conversing with those in the highest spheres. + +Bilibin liked conversation as he liked work, only when it could be +made elegantly witty. In society he always awaited an opportunity to +say something striking and took part in a conversation only when +that was possible. His conversation was always sprinkled with +wittily original, finished phrases of general interest. These +sayings were prepared in the inner laboratory of his mind in a +portable form as if intentionally, so that insignificant society +people might carry them from drawing room to drawing room. And, in +fact, Bilibin's witticisms were hawked about in the Viennese drawing +rooms and often had an influence on matters considered important. + +His thin, worn, sallow face was covered with deep wrinkles, which +always looked as clean and well washed as the tips of one's fingers +after a Russian bath. The movement of these wrinkles formed the +principal play of expression on his face. Now his forehead would +pucker into deep folds and his eyebrows were lifted, then his eyebrows +would descend and deep wrinkles would crease his cheeks. His small, +deep-set eyes always twinkled and looked out straight. + +"Well, now tell me about your exploits," said he. + +Bolkonski, very modestly without once mentioning himself, +described the engagement and his reception by the Minister of War. + +"They received me and my news as one receives a dog in a game of +skittles," said he in conclusion. + +Bilibin smiled and the wrinkles on his face disappeared. + +"Cependant, mon cher," he remarked, examining his nails from a +distance and puckering the skin above his left eye, "malgre la haute +estime que je professe pour the Orthodox Russian army, j'avoue que +votre victoire n'est pas des plus victorieuses."* + + +*"But my dear fellow, with all my respect for the Orthodox Russian +army, I must say that your victory was not particularly victorious." + + +He went on talking in this way in French, uttering only those +words in Russian on which he wished to put a contemptuous emphasis. + +"Come now! You with all your forces fall on the unfortunate +Mortier and his one division, and even then Mortier slips through your +fingers! Where's the victory?" + +"But seriously," said Prince Andrew, "we can at any rate say without +boasting that it was a little better than at Ulm..." + +"Why didn't you capture one, just one, marshal for us?" + +"Because not everything happens as one expects or with the +smoothness of a parade. We had expected, as I told you, to get at +their rear by seven in the morning but had not reached it by five in +the afternoon." + +"And why didn't you do it at seven in the morning? You ought to have +been there at seven in the morning," returned Bilibin with a smile. +"You ought to have been there at seven in the morning." + +"Why did you not succeed in impressing on Bonaparte by diplomatic +methods that he had better leave Genoa alone?" retorted Prince +Andrew in the same tone. + +"I know," interrupted Bilibin, "you're thinking it's very easy to +take marshals, sitting on a sofa by the fire! That is true, but +still why didn't you capture him? So don't be surprised if not only +the Minister of War but also his Most August Majesty the Emperor and +King Francis is not much delighted by your victory. Even I, a poor +secretary of the Russian Embassy, do not feel any need in token of +my joy to give my Franz a thaler, or let him go with his Liebchen to +the Prater... True, we have no Prater here..." + +He looked straight at Prince Andrew and suddenly unwrinkled his +forehead. + +"It is now my turn to ask you 'why?' mon cher," said Bolkonski. "I +confess I do not understand: perhaps there are diplomatic subtleties +here beyond my feeble intelligence, but I can't make it out. Mack +loses a whole army, the Archduke Ferdinand and the Archduke Karl +give no signs of life and make blunder after blunder. Kutuzov alone at +last gains a real victory, destroying the spell of the invincibility +of the French, and the Minister of War does not even care to hear +the details." + +"That's just it, my dear fellow. You see it's hurrah for the Tsar, +for Russia, for the Orthodox Greek faith! All that is beautiful, but +what do we, I mean the Austrian court, care for your victories? +Bring us nice news of a victory by the Archduke Karl or Ferdinand (one +archduke's as good as another, as you know) and even if it is only +over a fire brigade of Bonaparte's, that will be another story and +we'll fire off some cannon! But this sort of thing seems done on +purpose to vex us. The Archduke Karl does nothing, the Archduke +Ferdinand disgraces himself. You abandon Vienna, give up its +defense--as much as to say: 'Heaven is with us, but heaven help you +and your capital!' The one general whom we all loved, Schmidt, you +expose to a bullet, and then you congratulate us on the victory! Admit +that more irritating news than yours could not have been conceived. +It's as if it had been done on purpose, on purpose. Besides, suppose +you did gain a brilliant victory, if even the Archduke Karl gained a +victory, what effect would that have on the general course of +events? It's too late now when Vienna is occupied by the French army!" + +"What? Occupied? Vienna occupied?" + +"Not only occupied, but Bonaparte is at Schonbrunn, and the count, +our dear Count Vrbna, goes to him for orders." + +After the fatigues and impressions of the journey, his reception, +and especially after having dined, Bolkonski felt that he could not +take in the full significance of the words he heard. + +"Count Lichtenfels was here this morning," Bilibin continued, "and +showed me a letter in which the parade of the French in Vienna was +fully described: Prince Murat et tout le tremblement... You see that +your victory is not a matter for great rejoicing and that you can't be +received as a savior." + +"Really I don't care about that, I don't care at all," said Prince +Andrew, beginning to understand that his news of the battle before +Krems was really of small importance in view of such events as the +fall of Austria's capital. "How is it Vienna was taken? What of the +bridge and its celebrated bridgehead and Prince Auersperg? We heard +reports that Prince Auersperg was defending Vienna?" he said. + +"Prince Auersperg is on this, on our side of the river, and is +defending us--doing it very badly, I think, but still he is +defending us. But Vienna is on the other side. No, the bridge has +not yet been taken and I hope it will not be, for it is mined and +orders have been given to blow it up. Otherwise we should long ago +have been in the mountains of Bohemia, and you and your army would +have spent a bad quarter of an hour between two fires." + +"But still this does not mean that the campaign is over," said +Prince Andrew. + +"Well, I think it is. The bigwigs here think so too, but they +daren't say so. It will be as I said at the beginning of the campaign, +it won't be your skirmishing at Durrenstein, or gunpowder at all, that +will decide the matter, but those who devised it," said Bilibin +quoting one of his own mots, releasing the wrinkles on his forehead, +and pausing. "The only question is what will come of the meeting +between the Emperor Alexander and the King of Prussia in Berlin? If +Prussia joins the Allies, Austria's hand will be forced and there will +be war. If not it is merely a question of settling where the +preliminaries of the new Campo Formio are to be drawn up." + +"What an extraordinary genius!" Prince Andrew suddenly exclaimed, +clenching his small hand and striking the table with it, "and what +luck the man has!" + +"Buonaparte?" said Bilibin inquiringly, puckering up his forehead to +indicate that he was about to say something witty. "Buonaparte?" he +repeated, accentuating the u: "I think, however, now that he lays down +laws for Austria at Schonbrunn, il faut lui faire grace de l'u!* I +shall certainly adopt an innovation and call him simply Bonaparte!" + + +*"We must let him off the u!" + + +"But joking apart," said Prince Andrew, "do you really think the +campaign is over?" + +"This is what I think. Austria has been made a fool of, and she is +not used to it. She will retaliate. And she has been fooled in the +first place because her provinces have been pillaged--they say the +Holy Russian army loots terribly--her army is destroyed, her capital +taken, and all this for the beaux yeux* of His Sardinian Majesty. +And therefore--this is between ourselves--I instinctively feel that we +are being deceived, my instinct tells me of negotiations with France +and projects for peace, a secret peace concluded separately." + + +*Fine eyes. + + +"Impossible!" cried Prince Andrew. "That would be too base." + +"If we live we shall see," replied Bilibin, his face again +becoming smooth as a sign that the conversation was at an end. + +When Prince Andrew reached the room prepared for him and lay down in +a clean shirt on the feather bed with its warmed and fragrant pillows, +he felt that the battle of which he had brought tidings was far, far +away from him. The alliance with Prussia, Austria's treachery, +Bonaparte's new triumph, tomorrow's levee and parade, and the audience +with the Emperor Francis occupied his thoughts. + +He closed his eyes, and immediately a sound of cannonading, of +musketry and the rattling of carriage wheels seemed to fill his +ears, and now again drawn out in a thin line the musketeers were +descending the hill, the French were firing, and he felt his heart +palpitating as he rode forward beside Schmidt with the bullets merrily +whistling all around, and he experienced tenfold the joy of living, as +he had not done since childhood. + +He woke up... + +"Yes, that all happened!" he said, and, smiling happily to himself +like a child, he fell into a deep, youthful slumber. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Next day he woke late. Recalling his recent impressions, the first +thought that came into his mind was that today he had to be +presented to the Emperor Francis; he remembered the Minister of War, +the polite Austrian adjutant, Bilibin, and last night's +conversation. Having dressed for his attendance at court in full +parade uniform, which he had not worn for a long time, he went into +Bilibin's study fresh, animated, and handsome, with his hand bandaged. +In the study were four gentlemen of the diplomatic corps. With +Prince Hippolyte Kuragin, who was a secretary to the embassy, +Bolkonski was already acquainted. Bilibin introduced him to the +others. + +The gentlemen assembled at Bilibin's were young, wealthy, gay +society men, who here, as in Vienna, formed a special set which +Bilibin, their leader, called les notres.* This set, consisting almost +exclusively of diplomats, evidently had its own interests which had +nothing to do with war or politics but related to high society, to +certain women, and to the official side of the service. These +gentlemen received Prince Andrew as one of themselves, an honor they +did not extend to many. From politeness and to start conversation, +they asked him a few questions about the army and the battle, and then +the talk went off into merry jests and gossip. + + +*Ours. + + +"But the best of it was," said one, telling of the misfortune of a +fellow diplomat, "that the Chancellor told him flatly that his +appointment to London was a promotion and that he was so to regard it. +Can you fancy the figure he cut?..." + +"But the worst of it, gentlemen--I am giving Kuragin away to you--is +that that man suffers, and this Don Juan, wicked fellow, is taking +advantage of it!" + +Prince Hippolyte was lolling in a lounge chair with his legs over +its arm. He began to laugh. + +"Tell me about that!" he said. + +"Oh, you Don Juan! You serpent!" cried several voices. + +"You, Bolkonski, don't know," said Bilibin turning to Prince Andrew, +"that all the atrocities of the French army (I nearly said of the +Russian army) are nothing compared to what this man has been doing +among the women!" + +"La femme est la compagne de l'homme,"* announced Prince +Hippolyte, and began looking through a lorgnette at his elevated legs. + + +*"Woman is man's companion." + + +Bilibin and the rest of "ours" burst out laughing in Hippolyte's +face, and Prince Andrew saw that Hippolyte, of whom--he had to +admit--he had almost been jealous on his wife's account, was the +butt of this set. + +"Oh, I must give you a treat," Bilibin whispered to Bolkonski. +"Kuragin is exquisite when he discusses politics--you should see his +gravity!" + +He sat down beside Hippolyte and wrinkling his forehead began +talking to him about politics. Prince Andrew and the others gathered +round these two. + +"The Berlin cabinet cannot express a feeling of alliance," began +Hippolyte gazing round with importance at the others, "without +expressing... as in its last note... you understand... Besides, unless +His Majesty the Emperor derogates from the principle of our +alliance... + +"Wait, I have not finished..." he said to Prince Andrew, seizing him +by the arm, "I believe that intervention will be stronger than +nonintervention. And..." he paused. "Finally one cannot impute the +nonreceipt of our dispatch of November 18. That is how it will end." +And he released Bolkonski's arm to indicate that he had now quite +finished. + +"Demosthenes, I know thee by the pebble thou secretest in thy golden +mouth!" said Bilibin, and the mop of hair on his head moved with +satisfaction. + +Everybody laughed, and Hippolyte louder than anyone. He was +evidently distressed, and breathed painfully, but could not restrain +the wild laughter that convulsed his usually impassive features. + +"Well now, gentlemen," said Bilibin, "Bolkonski is my guest in +this house and in Brunn itself. I want to entertain him as far as I +can, with all the pleasures of life here. If we were in Vienna it +would be easy, but here, in this wretched Moravian hole, it is more +difficult, and I beg you all to help me. Brunn's attractions must be +shown him. You can undertake the theater, I society, and you, +Hippolyte, of course the women." + +"We must let him see Amelie, she's exquisite!" said one of "ours," +kissing his finger tips. + +"In general we must turn this bloodthirsty soldier to more humane +interests," said Bilibin. + +"I shall scarcely be able to avail myself of your hospitality, +gentlemen, it is already time for me to go," replied Prince Andrew +looking at his watch. + +"Where to?" + +"To the Emperor." + +"Oh! Oh! Oh! Well, au revoir, Bolkonski! Au revoir, Prince! Come +back early to dinner," cried several voices. "We'll take you in hand." + +"When speaking to the Emperor, try as far as you can to praise the +way that provisions are supplied and the routes indicated," said +Bilibin, accompanying him to the hall. + +"I should like to speak well of them, but as far as I the facts, I +can't," replied Bolkonski, smiling. + +"Well, talk as much as you can, anyway. He has a passion for +giving audiences, but he does not like talking himself and can't do +it, as you will see." + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +At the levee Prince Andrew stood among the Austrian officers as he +had been told to, and the Emperor Francis merely looked fixedly into +his face and just nodded to him with to him with his long head. But +after it was over, the adjutant he had seen the previous day +ceremoniously informed Bolkonski that the Emperor desired to give +him an audience. The Emperor Francis received him standing in the +middle of the room. Before the conversation began Prince Andrew was +struck by the fact that the Emperor seemed confused and blushed as +if not knowing what to say. + +"Tell me, when did the battle begin?" he asked hurriedly. + +Prince Andrew replied. Then followed other questions just as simple: +"Was Kutuzov well? When had he left Krems?" and so on. The Emperor +spoke as if his sole aim were to put a given number of questions- +the answers to these questions, as was only too evident, did not +interest him. + +"At what o'clock did the battle begin?" asked the Emperor. + +"I cannot inform Your Majesty at what o'clock the battle began at +the front, but at Durrenstein, where I was, our attack began after +five in the afternoon," replied Bolkonski growing more animated and +expecting that he would have a chance to give a reliable account, +which he had ready in his mind, of all he knew and had seen. But the +Emperor smiled and interrupted him. + +"How many miles?" + +"From where to where, Your Majesty?" + +"From Durrenstein to Krems." + +"Three and a half miles, Your Majesty." + +"The French have abandoned the left bank?" + +"According to the scouts the last of them crossed on rafts during +the night." + +"Is there sufficient forage in Krems?" + +"Forage has not been supplied to the extent..." + +The Emperor interrupted him. + +"At what o'clock was General Schmidt killed?" + +"At seven o'clock, I believe." + +"At seven o'clock? It's very sad, very sad!" + +The Emperor thanked Prince Andrew and bowed. Prince Andrew +withdrew and was immediately surrounded by courtiers on all sides. +Everywhere he saw friendly looks and heard friendly words. Yesterday's +adjutant reproached him for not having stayed at the palace, and +offered him his own house. The Minister of War came up and +congratulated him on the Maria Theresa Order of the third grade, which +the Emperor was conferring on him. The Empress' chamberlain invited +him to see Her Majesty. The archduchess also wished to see him. He did +not know whom to answer, and for a few seconds collected his thoughts. +Then the Russian ambassador took him by the shoulder, led him to the +window, and began to talk to him. + +Contrary to Bilibin's forecast the news he had brought was +joyfully received. A thanksgiving service was arranged, Kutuzov was +awarded the Grand Cross of Maria Theresa, and the whole army +received rewards. Bolkonski was invited everywhere, and had to spend +the whole morning calling on the principal Austrian dignitaries. +Between four and five in the afternoon, having made all his calls, +he was returning to Bilibin's house thinking out a letter to his +father about the battle and his visit to Brunn. At the door he found a +vehicle half full of luggage. Franz, Bilibin's man, was dragging a +portmanteau with some difficulty out of the front door. + +Before returning to Bilibin's Prince Andrew had gone to bookshop +to provide himself with some books for the campaign, and had spent +some time in the shop. + +"What is it?" he asked. + +"Oh, your excellency!" said Franz, with difficulty rolling the +portmanteau into the vehicle, "we are to move on still farther. The +scoundrel is again at our heels!" + +"Eh? What?" asked Prince Andrew. + +Bilibin came out to meet him. His usually calm face showed +excitement. + +"There now! Confess that this is delightful," said he. "This +affair of the Thabor Bridge, at Vienna.... They have crossed without +striking a blow!" + +Prince Andrew could not understand. + +"But where do you come from not to know what every coachman in the +town knows?" + +"I come from the archduchess'. I heard nothing there." + +"And you didn't see that everybody is packing up?" + +"I did not... What is it all about?" inquired Prince Andrew +impatiently. + +"What's it all about? Why, the French have crossed the bridge that +Auersperg was defending, and the bridge was not blown up: so Murat +is now rushing along the road to Brunn and will be here in a day or +two." + +"What? Here? But why did they not blow up the bridge, if it was +mined?" + +"That is what I ask you. No one, not even Bonaparte, knows why." + +Bolkonski shrugged his shoulders. + +"But if the bridge is crossed it means that the army too is lost? It +will be cut off," said he. + +"That's just it," answered Bilibin. "Listen! The French entered +Vienna as I told you. Very well. Next day, which was yesterday, +those gentlemen, messieurs les marechaux,* Murat, Lannes,and Belliard, +mount and ride to bridge. (Observe that all three are Gascons.) +'Gentlemen,' says one of them, 'you know the Thabor Bridge is mined +and doubly mined and that there are menacing fortifications at its +head and an army of fifteen thousand men has been ordered to blow up +the bridge and not let us cross? But it will please our sovereign +the Emperor Napoleon if we take this bridge, so let us three go and +take it!' 'Yes, let's!' say the others. And off they go and take the +bridge, cross it, and now with their whole army are on this side of +the Danube, marching on us, you, and your lines of communication." + + +*The marshalls. + + +"Stop jesting," said Prince Andrew sadly and seriously. This news +grieved him and yet he was pleased. + +As soon as he learned that the Russian army was in such a hopeless +situation it occurred to him that it was he who was destined to lead +it out of this position; that here was the Toulon that would lift +him from the ranks of obscure officers and offer him the first step to +fame! Listening to Bilibin he was already imagining how on reaching +the army he would give an opinion at the war council which would be +the only one that could save the army, and how he alone would be +entrusted with the executing of the plan. + +"Stop this jesting," he said + +"I am not jesting," Bilibin went on. "Nothing is truer or sadder. +These gentlemen ride onto the bridge alone and wave white +handkerchiefs; they assure the officer on duty that they, the +marshals, are on their way to negotiate with Prince Auersperg. He lets +them enter the tete-de-pont.* They spin him a thousand gasconades, +saying that the war is over, that the Emperor Francis is arranging a +meeting with Bonaparte, that they desire to see Prince Auersperg, +and so on. The officer sends for Auersperg; these gentlemen embrace +the officers, crack jokes, sit on the cannon, and meanwhile a French +battalion gets to the bridge unobserved, flings the bags of incendiary +material into the water, and approaches the tete-de-pont. At length +appears the lieutenant general, our dear Prince Auersperg von +Mautern himself. 'Dearest foe! Flower of the Austrian army, hero of +the Turkish wars Hostilities are ended, we can shake one another's +hand.... The Emperor Napoleon burns with impatience to make Prince +Auersperg's acquaintance.' In a word, those gentlemen, Gascons indeed, +so bewildered him with fine words, and he is so flattered by his +rapidly established intimacy with the French marshals, and so +dazzled by the sight of Murat's mantle and ostrich plumes, qu'il n'y +voit que du feu, et oublie celui qu'il devait faire faire sur +l'ennemi!"*[2] In spite of the animation of his speech, Bilibin did +not forget to pause after this mot to give time for its due +appreciation. "The French battalion rushes to the bridgehead, spikes +the guns, and the bridge is taken! But what is best of all," he went +on, his excitement subsiding under the delightful interest of his +own story, "is that the sergeant in charge of the cannon which was +to give the signal to fire the mines and blow up the bridge, this +sergeant, seeing that the French troops were running onto the +bridge, was about to fire, but Lannes stayed his hand. The sergeant, +who was evidently wiser than his general, goes up to Auersperg and +says: 'Prince, you are being deceived, here are the French!' Murat, +seeing that all is lost if the sergeant is allowed to speak, turns +to Auersperg with feigned astonishment (he is a true Gascon) and says: +'I don't recognize the world-famous Austrian discipline, if you +allow a subordinate to address you like that!' It was a stroke of +genius. Prince Auersperg feels his dignity at stake and orders the +sergeant to be arrested. Come, you must own that this affair of the +Thabor Bridge is delightful! It is not exactly stupidity, nor +rascality...." + + +*Bridgehead. + +*[2] That their fire gets into his eyes and he forgets that he ought +to be firing at the enemy. + + +"It may be treachery," said Prince Andrew, vividly imagining the +gray overcoats, wounds, the smoke of gunpowder, the sounds of +firing, and the glory that awaited him. + +"Not that either. That puts the court in too bad a light," replied +Bilibin. "It's not treachery nor rascality nor stupidity: it is just as +at Ulm... it is..."--he seemed to be trying to find the right +expression. "C'est... c'est du Mack. Nous sommes mackes [It is... it +is a bit of Mack. We are Macked]," he concluded, feeling that he had +produced a good epigram, a fresh one that would be repeated. His +hitherto puckered brow became smooth as a sign of pleasure, and with a +slight smile he began to examine his nails. + +"Where are you off to?" he said suddenly to Prince Andrew who had +risen and was going toward his room. + +"I am going away." + +"Where to?" + +"To the army." + +"But you meant to stay another two days?" + +"But now I am off at once." + +And Prince Andrew after giving directions about his departure went +to his room. + +"Do you know, mon cher," said Bilibin following him, "I have been +thinking about you. Why are you going?" + +And in proof of the conclusiveness of his opinion all the wrinkles +vanished from his face. + +Prince Andrew looked inquiringly at him and gave no reply. + +"Why are you going? I know you think it your duty to gallop back +to the army now that it is in danger. I understand that. Mon cher, +it is heroism!" + +"Not at all," said Prince Andrew. + +"But as you are a philosopher, be a consistent one, look at the +other side of the question and you will see that your duty, on the +contrary, is to take care of yourself. Leave it to those who are no +longer fit for anything else.... You have not been ordered to return +and have not been dismissed from here; therefore, you can stay and +go with us wherever our ill luck takes us. They say we are going to +Olmutz, and Olmutz is a very decent town. You and I will travel +comfortably in my caleche." + +"Do stop joking, Bilibin," cried Bolkonski. + +"I am speaking sincerely as a friend! Consider! Where and why are +you going, when you might remain here? You are faced by one of two +things," and the skin over his left temple puckered, "either you +will not reach your regiment before peace is concluded, or you will +share defeat and disgrace with Kutuzov's whole army." + +And Bilibin unwrinkled his temple, feeling that the dilemma was +insoluble. + +"I cannot argue about it," replied Prince Andrew coldly, but he +thought: "I am going to save the army." + +"My dear fellow, you are a hero!" said Bilibin. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +That same night, having taken leave of the Minister of War, +Bolkonski set off to rejoin the army, not knowing where he would +find it and fearing to be captured by the French on the way to Krems. + +In Brunn everybody attached to the court was packing up, and the +heavy baggage was already being dispatched to Olmutz. Near Hetzelsdorf +Prince Andrew struck the high road along which the Russian army was +moving with great haste and in the greatest disorder. The road was +so obstructed with carts that it was impossible to get by in a +carriage. Prince Andrew took a horse and a Cossack from a Cossack +commander, and hungry and weary, making his way past the baggage +wagons, rode in search of the commander in chief and of his own +luggage. Very sinister reports of the position of the army reached him +as he went along, and the appearance of the troops in their disorderly +flight confirmed these rumors. + +"Cette armee russe que l'or de l'Angleterre a transportee des +extremites de l'univers, nous allons lui faire eprouver le meme +sort--(le sort de l'armee d'Ulm)."* He remembered these words in +Bonaparte's address to his army at the beginning of the campaign, +and they awoke in him astonishment at the genius of his hero, a +feeling of wounded pride, and a hope of glory. "And should there be +nothing left but to die?" he thought. "Well, if need be, I shall do it +no worse than others." + + +*"That Russian army which has been brought from the ends of the +earth by English gold, we shall cause to share the same fate--(the +fate of the army at Ulm)." + + +He looked with disdain at the endless confused mass of +detachments, carts, guns, artillery, and again baggage wagons and +vehicles of all kinds overtaking one another and blocking the muddy +road, three and sometimes four abreast. From all sides, behind and +before, as far as ear could reach, there were the rattle of wheels, +the creaking of carts and gun carriages, the tramp of horses, the +crack of whips, shouts, the urging of horses, and the swearing of +soldiers, orderlies, and officers. All along the sides of the road +fallen horses were to be seen, some flayed, some not, and +broken-down carts beside which solitary soldiers sat waiting for +something, and again soldiers straggling from their companies, +crowds of whom set off to the neighboring villages, or returned from +them dragging sheep, fowls, hay, and bulging sacks. At each ascent +or descent of the road the crowds were yet denser and the din of +shouting more incessant. Soldiers floundering knee-deep in mud +pushed the guns and wagons themselves. Whips cracked, hoofs slipped, +traces broke, and lungs were strained with shouting. The officers +directing the march rode backward and forward between the carts. Their +voices were but feebly heard amid the uproar and one saw by their +faces that they despaired of the possibility of checking this +disorder. + +"Here is our dear Orthodox Russian army," thought Bolkonski, +recalling Bilibin's words. + +Wishing to find out where the commander in chief was, he rode up +to a convoy. Directly opposite to him came a strange one-horse +vehicle, evidently rigged up by soldiers out of any available +materials and looking like something between a cart, a cabriolet, +and a caleche. A soldier was driving, and a woman enveloped in +shawls sat behind the apron under the leather hood of the vehicle. +Prince Andrew rode up and was just putting his question to a soldier +when his attention was diverted by the desperate shrieks of the +woman in the vehicle. An officer in charge of transport was beating +the soldier who was driving the woman's vehicle for trying to get +ahead of others, and the strokes of his whip fell on the apron of +the equipage. The woman screamed piercingly. Seeing Prince Andrew +she leaned out from behind the apron and, waving her thin arms from +under the woolen shawl, cried: + +"Mr. Aide-de-camp! Mr. Aide-de-camp!... For heaven's sake... Protect +me! What will become of us? I am the wife of the doctor of the Seventh +Chasseurs.... They won't let us pass, we are left behind and have lost +our people..." + +"I'll flatten you into a pancake!" shouted the angry officer to +the soldier. "Turn back with your slut!" + +"Mr. Aide-de-camp! Help me!... What does it all mean?" screamed +the doctor's wife. + +"Kindly let this cart pass. Don't you see it's a woman?" said Prince +Andrew riding up to the officer. + +The officer glanced at him, and without replying turned again to the +soldier. "I'll teach you to push on!... Back!" + +"Let them pass, I tell you!" repeated Prince Andrew, compressing his +lips. + +"And who are you?" cried the officer, turning on him with tipsy +rage, "who are you? Are you in command here? Eh? I am commander +here, not you! Go back or I'll flatten you into a pancake," repeated +he. This expression evidently pleased him. + +"That was a nice snub for the little aide-de-camp," came a voice +from behind. + +Prince Andrew saw that the officer was in that state of senseless, +tipsy rage when a man does not know what he is saying. He saw that his +championship of the doctor's wife in her queer trap might expose him +to what he dreaded more than anything in the world--to ridicule; but +his instinct urged him on. Before the officer finished his sentence +Prince Andrew, his face distorted with fury, rode up to him and raised +his riding whip. + +"Kind...ly let--them--pass!" + +The officer flourished his arm and hastily rode away. + +"It's all the fault of these fellows on the staff that there's +this disorder," he muttered. "Do as you like." + +Prince Andrew without lifting his eyes rode hastily away from the +doctor's wife, who was calling him her deliverer, and recalling with a +sense of disgust the minutest details of this humiliating scene he +galloped on to the village where he was told that the commander in +chief was. + +On reaching the village he dismounted and went to the nearest house, +intending to rest if but for a moment, eat something, and try to +sort out the stinging and tormenting thoughts that confused his +mind. "This is a mob of scoundrels and not an army," he was thinking +as he went up to the window of the first house, when a familiar +voice called him by name. + +He turned round. Nesvitski's handsome face looked out of the +little window. Nesvitski, moving his moist lips as he chewed +something, and flourishing his arm, called him to enter. + +"Bolkonski! Bolkonski!... Don't you hear? Eh? Come quick..." he +shouted. + +Entering the house, Prince Andrew saw Nesvitski and another adjutant +having something to eat. They hastily turned round to him asking if he +had any news. On their familiar faces he read agitation and alarm. +This was particularly noticeable on Nesvitski's usually laughing +countenance. + +"Where is the commander in chief?" asked Bolkonski. + +"Here, in that house," answered the adjutant. + +"Well, is it true that it's peace and capitulation?" asked +Nesvitski. + +"I was going to ask you. I know nothing except that it was all I +could do to get here." + +"And we, my dear boy! It's terrible! I was wrong to laugh at Mack, +we're getting it still worse," said Nesvitski. "But sit down and +have something to eat." + +"You won't be able to find either your baggage or anything else now, +Prince. And God only knows where your man Peter is," said the other +adjutant. + +"Where are headquarters?" + +"We are to spend the night in Znaim." + +"Well, I have got all I need into packs for two horses," said +Nesvitski. "They've made up splendid packs for me--fit to cross the +Bohemian mountains with. It's a bad lookout, old fellow! But what's +the matter with you? You must be ill to shiver like that," he added, +noticing that Prince Andrew winced as at an electric shock. + +"It's nothing," replied Prince Andrew. + +He had just remembered his recent encounter with the doctor's wife +and the convoy officer. + +"What is the commander in chief doing here?" he asked. + +"I can't make out at all," said Nesvitski. + +"Well, all I can make out is that everything is abominable, +abominable, quite abominable!" said Prince Andrew, and he went off +to the house where the commander in chief was. + +Passing by Kutuzov's carriage and the exhausted saddle horses of his +suite, with their Cossacks who were talking loudly together, Prince +Andrew entered the passage. Kutuzov himself, he was told, was in the +house with Prince Bagration and Weyrother. Weyrother was the +Austrian general who had succeeded Schmidt. In the passage little +Kozlovski was squatting on his heels in front of a clerk. The clerk, +with cuffs turned up, was hastily writing at a tub turned bottom +upwards. Kozlovski's face looked worn--he too had evidently not +slept all night. He glanced at Prince Andrew and did not even nod to +him. + +"Second line... have you written it?" he continued dictating to +the clerk. "The Kiev Grenadiers, Podolian..." + +"One can't write so fast, your honor," said the clerk, glancing +angrily and disrespectfully at Kozlovski. + +Through the door came the sounds of Kutuzov's voice, excited and +dissatisfied, interrupted by another, an unfamiliar voice. From the +sound of these voices, the inattentive way Kozlovski looked at him, +the disrespectful manner of the exhausted clerk, the fact that the +clerk and Kozlovski were squatting on the floor by a tub so near to +the commander in chief, and from the noisy laughter of the Cossacks +holding the horses near the window, Prince Andrew felt that +something important and disastrous was about to happen. + +He turned to Kozlovski with urgent questions. + +"Immediately, Prince," said Kozlovski. "Dispositions for Bagration." + +"What about capitulation?" + +"Nothing of the sort. Orders are issued for a battle." + +Prince Andrew moved toward the door from whence voices were heard. +Just as he was going to open it the sounds ceased, the door opened, +and Kutuzov with his eagle nose and puffy face appeared in the +doorway. Prince Andrew stood right in front of Kutuzov but the +expression of the commander in chief's one sound eye showed him to +be so preoccupied with thoughts and anxieties as to be oblivious of +his presence. He looked straight at his adjutant's face without +recognizing him. + +"Well, have you finished?" said he to Kozlovski. + +"One moment, your excellency." + +Bagration, a gaunt middle-aged man of medium height with a firm, +impassive face of Oriental type, came out after the commander in +chief. + +"I have the honor to present myself," repeated Prince Andrew +rather loudly, handing Kutuzov an envelope. + +"Ah, from Vienna? Very good. Later, later!" + +Kutuzov went out into the porch with Bagration. + +"Well, good-by, Prince," said he to Bagration. "My blessing, and may +Christ be with you in your great endeavor!" + +His face suddenly softened and tears came into his eyes. With his +left hand he drew Bagration toward him, and with his right, on which +he wore a ring, he made the sign of the cross over him with a +gesture evidently habitual, offering his puffy cheek, but Bagration +kissed him on the neck instead. + +"Christ be with you!" Kutuzov repeated and went toward his carriage. +"Get in with me," said he to Bolkonski. + +"Your excellency, I should like to be of use here. Allow me to +remain with Prince Bagration's detachment." + +"Get in," said Kutuzov, and noticing that Bolkonski still delayed, +he added: "I need good officers myself, need them myself!" + +They got into the carriage and drove for a few minutes in silence. + +"There is still much, much before us," he said, as if with an old +man's penetration he understood all that was passing in Bolkonski's +mind. "If a tenth part of his detachment returns I shall thank God," +he added as if speaking to himself. + +Prince Andrew glanced at Kutuzov's face only a foot distant from him +and involuntarily noticed the carefully washed seams of the scar +near his temple, where an Ismail bullet had pierced his skull, and the +empty eye socket. "Yes, he has a right to speak so calmly of those +men's death," thought Bolkonski. + +"That is why I beg to be sent to that detachment," he said. + +Kutuzov did not reply. He seemed to have forgotten what he had +been saying, and sat plunged in thought. Five minutes later, gently +swaying on the soft springs of the carriage, he turned to Prince +Andrew. There was not a trace of agitation on his face. With +delicate irony he questioned Prince Andrew about the details of his +interview with the Emperor, about the remarks he had heard at court +concerning the Krems affair, and about some ladies they both knew. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +On November 1 Kutuzov had received, through a spy, news that the +army he commanded was in an almost hopeless position. The spy reported +that the French, after crossing the bridge at Vienna, were advancing +in immense force upon Kutuzov's line of communication with the +troops that were arriving from Russia. If Kutuzov decided to remain at +Krems, Napoleon's army of one hundred and fifty thousand men would cut +him off completely and surround his exhausted army of forty +thousand, and he would find himself in the position of Mack at Ulm. If +Kutuzov decided to abandon the road connecting him with the troops +arriving from Russia, he would have to march with no road into unknown +parts of the Bohemian mountains, defending himself against superior +forces of the enemy and abandoning all hope of a junction with +Buxhowden. If Kutuzov decided to retreat along the road from Krems +to Olmutz, to unite with the troops arriving from Russia, he risked +being forestalled on that road by the French who had crossed the +Vienna bridge, and encumbered by his baggage and transport, having +to accept battle on the march against an enemy three times as +strong, who would hem him in from two sides. + +Kutuzov chose this latter course. + +The French, the spy reported, having crossed the Vienna bridge, were +advancing by forced marches toward Znaim, which lay sixty-six miles +off on the line of Kutuzov's retreat. If he reached Znaim before the +French, there would be great hope of saving the army; to let the +French forestall him at Znaim meant the exposure of his whole army +to a disgrace such as that of Ulm, or to utter destruction. But to +forestall the French with his whole army was impossible. The road +for the French from Vienna to Znaim was shorter and better than the +road for the Russians from Krems to Znaim. + +The night he received the news, Kutuzov sent Bagration's vanguard, +four thousand strong, to the right across the hills from the +Krems-Znaim to the Vienna-Znaim road. Bagration was to make this march +without resting, and to halt facing Vienna with Znaim to his rear, and +if he succeeded in forestalling the French he was to delay them as +long as possible. Kutuzov himself with all his transport took the road +to Znaim. + +Marching thirty miles that stormy night across roadless hills, +with his hungry, ill-shod soldiers, and losing a third of his men as +stragglers by the way, Bagration came out on the Vienna-Znaim road +at Hollabrunn a few hours ahead of the French who were approaching +Hollabrunn from Vienna. Kutuzov with his transport had still to +march for some days before he could reach Znaim. Hence Bagration +with his four thousand hungry, exhausted men would have to detain +for days the whole enemy army that came upon him at Hollabrunn, +which was clearly impossible. But a freak of fate made the +impossible possible. The success of the trick that had placed the +Vienna bridge in the hands of the French without a fight led Murat +to try to deceive Kutuzov in a similar way. Meeting Bagration's weak +detachment on the Znaim road he supposed it to be Kutuzov's whole +army. To be able to crush it absolutely he awaited the arrival of +the rest of the troops who were on their way from Vienna, and with +this object offered a three days' truce on condition that both +armies should remain in position without moving. Murat declared that +negotiations for peace were already proceeding, and that he +therefore offered this truce to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Count +Nostitz, the Austrian general occupying the advanced posts, believed +Murat's emissary and retired, leaving Bagration's division exposed. +Another emissary rode to the Russian line to announce the peace +negotiations and to offer the Russian army the three days' truce. +Bagration replied that he was not authorized either to accept or +refuse a truce and sent his adjutant to Kutuzov to report the offer he +had received. + +A truce was Kutuzov's sole chance of gaining time, giving +Bagration's exhausted troops some rest, and letting the transport +and heavy convoys (whose movements were concealed from the French) +advance if but one stage nearer Znaim. The offer of a truce gave the +only, and a quite unexpected, chance of saving the army. On +receiving the news he immediately dispatched Adjutant General +Wintzingerode, who was in attendance on him, to the enemy camp. +Wintzingerode was not merely to agree to the truce but also to offer +terms of capitulation, and meanwhile Kutuzov sent his adjutants back +to hasten to the utmost the movements of the baggage trains of the +entire army along the Krems-Znaim road. Bagration's exhausted and +hungry detachment, which alone covered this movement of the +transport and of the whole army, had to remain stationary in face of +an enemy eight times as strong as itself. + +Kutuzov's expectations that the proposals of capitulation (which +were in no way binding) might give time for part of the transport to +pass, and also that Murat's mistake would very soon be discovered, +proved correct. As soon as Bonaparte (who was at Schonbrunn, sixteen +miles from Hollabrunn) received Murat's dispatch with the proposal +of a truce and a capitulation, he detected a ruse and wrote the +following letter to Murat: + + +Schonbrunn, 25th Brumaire, 1805, + +at eight o'clock in the morning + +To PRINCE MURAT, + +I cannot find words to express to you my displeasure. You command +only my advance guard, and have no right to arrange an armistice +without my order. You are causing me to lose the fruits of a campaign. +Break the armistice immediately and march on the enemy. Inform him +that the general who signed that capitulation had no right to do so, +and that no one but the Emperor of Russia has that right. + +If, however, the Emperor of Russia ratifies that convention, I +will ratify it; but it is only a trick. March on, destroy the +Russian army.... You are in a position to seize its baggage and +artillery. + +The Russian Emperor's aide-de-camp is an impostor. Officers are +nothing when they have no powers; this one had none.... The +Austrians let themselves be tricked at the crossing of the Vienna +bridge, you are letting yourself be tricked by an aide-de-camp of +the Emperor. + +NAPOLEON + + +Bonaparte's adjutant rode full gallop with this menacing letter to +Murat. Bonaparte himself, not trusting to his generals, moved with all +the Guards to the field of battle, afraid of letting a ready victim +escape, and Bagration's four thousand men merrily lighted campfires, +dried and warmed themselves, cooked their porridge for the first +time for three days, and not one of them knew or imagined what was +in store for him. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Between three and four o'clock in the afternoon Prince Andrew, who +had persisted in his request to Kutuzov, arrived at Grunth and +reported himself to Bagration. Bonaparte's adjutant had not yet +reached Murat's detachment and the battle had not yet begun. In +Bagration's detachment no one knew anything of the general position of +affairs. They talked of peace but did not believe in its +possibility; others talked of a battle but also disbelieved in the +nearness of an engagement. Bagration, knowing Bolkonski to be a +favorite and trusted adjutant, received him with distinction and +special marks of favor, explaining to him that there would probably be +an engagement that day or the next, and giving him full liberty to +remain with him during the battle or to join the rearguard and have an +eye on the order of retreat, "which is also very important." + +"However, there will hardly be an engagement today," said +Bagration as if to reassure Prince Andrew. + +"If he is one of the ordinary little staff dandies sent to earn a +medal he can get his reward just as well in the rearguard, but if he +wishes to stay with me, let him... he'll be of use here if he's a +brave officer," thought Bagration. Prince Andrew, without replying, +asked the prince's permission to ride round the position to see the +disposition of the forces, so as to know his bearings should he be +sent to execute an order. The officer on duty, a handsome, elegantly +dressed man with a diamond ring on his forefinger, who was fond of +speaking French though he spoke it badly, offered to conduct Prince +Andrew. + +On all sides they saw rain-soaked officers with dejected faces who +seemed to be seeking something, and soldiers dragging doors, +benches, and fencing from the village. + +"There now, Prince! We can't stop those fellows," said the staff +officer pointing to the soldiers. "The officers don't keep them in +hand. And there," he pointed to a sutler's tent, "they crowd in and +sit. This morning I turned them all out and now look, it's full again. +I must go there, Prince, and scare them a bit. It won't take a +moment." + +"Yes, let's go in and I will get myself a roll and some cheese," +said Prince Andrew who had not yet had time to eat anything. + +"Why didn't you mention it, Prince? I would have offered you +something." + +They dismounted and entered the tent. Several officers, with flushed +and weary faces, were sitting at the table eating and drinking. + +"Now what does this mean, gentlemen?" said the staff officer, in the +reproachful tone of a man who has repeated the same thing more than +once. "You know it won't do to leave your posts like this. The +prince gave orders that no one should leave his post. Now you, +Captain," and he turned to a thin, dirty little artillery officer +who without his boots (he had given them to the canteen keeper to +dry), in only his stockings, rose when they entered, smiling not +altogether comfortably. + +"Well, aren't you ashamed of yourself, Captain Tushin?" he +continued. "One would think that as an artillery officer you would set +a good example, yet here you are without your boots! The alarm will be +sounded and you'll be in a pretty position without your boots!" (The +staff officer smiled.) "Kindly return to your posts, gentlemen, all of +you, all!" he added in a tone of command. + +Prince Andrew smiled involuntarily as he looked at the artillery +officer Tushin, who silent and smiling, shifting from one stockinged +foot to the other, glanced inquiringly with his large, intelligent, +kindly eyes from Prince Andrew to the staff officer. + +"The soldiers say it feels easier without boots," said Captain +Tushin smiling shyly in his uncomfortable position, evidently +wishing to adopt a jocular tone. But before he had finished he felt +that his jest was unacceptable and had not come off. He grew confused. + +"Kindly return to your posts," said the staff officer trying to +preserve his gravity. + +Prince Andrew glanced again at the artillery officer's small figure. +There was something peculiar about it, quite unsoldierly, rather +comic, but extremely attractive. + +The staff officer and Prince Andrew mounted their horses and rode +on. + +Having ridden beyond the village, continually meeting and overtaking +soldiers and officers of various regiments, they saw on their left +some entrenchments being thrown up, the freshly dug clay of which +showed up red. Several battalions of soldiers, in their shirt +sleeves despite the cold wind, swarmed in these earthworks like a host +of white ants; spadefuls of red clay were continually being thrown +up from behind the bank by unseen hands. Prince Andrew and the officer +rode up, looked at the entrenchment, and went on again. Just behind it +they came upon some dozens of soldiers, continually replaced by +others, who ran from the entrenchment. They had to hold their noses +and put their horses to a trot to escape from the poisoned +atmosphere of these latrines. + +"Voila l'agrement des camps, monsieur le Prince,"* said the staff +officer. + + +*"This is a pleasure one gets in camp, Prince." + + +They rode up the opposite hill. From there the French could +already be seen. Prince Andrew stopped and began examining the +position. + +"That's our battery," said the staff officer indicating the +highest point. "It's in charge of the queer fellow we saw without +his boots. You can see everything from there; let's go there, Prince." + +"Thank you very much, I will go on alone," said Prince Andrew, +wishing to rid himself of this staff officer's company, "please +don't trouble yourself further." + +The staff officer remained behind and Prince Andrew rode on alone. + +The farther forward and nearer the enemy he went, the more orderly +and cheerful were the troops. The greatest disorder and depression had +been in the baggage train he had passed that morning on the Znaim road +seven miles away from the French. At Grunth also some apprehension and +alarm could be felt, but the nearer Prince Andrew came to the French +lines the more confident was the appearance of our troops. The +soldiers in their greatcoats were ranged in lines, the sergeants major +and company officers were counting the men, poking the last man in +each section in the ribs and telling him to hold his hand up. Soldiers +scattered over the whole place were dragging logs and brushwood and +were building shelters with merry chatter and laughter; around the +fires sat others, dressed and undressed, drying their shirts and leg +bands or mending boots or overcoats and crowding round the boilers and +porridge cookers. In one company dinner was ready, and the soldiers +were gazing eagerly at the steaming boiler, waiting till the sample, +which a quartermaster sergeant was carrying in a wooden bowl to an +officer who sat on a log before his shelter, had been tasted. + +Another company, a lucky one for not all the companies had vodka, +crowded round a pock-marked, broad-shouldered sergeant major who, +tilting a keg, filled one after another the canteen lids held out to +him. The soldiers lifted the canteen lids to their lips with +reverential faces, emptied them, rolling the vodka in their mouths, +and walked away from the sergeant major with brightened expressions, +licking their lips and wiping them on the sleeves of their greatcoats. +All their faces were as serene as if all this were happening at home +awaiting peaceful encampment, and not within sight of the enemy before +an action in which at least half of them would be left on the field. +After passing a chasseur regiment and in the lines of the Kiev +grenadiers--fine fellows busy with similar peaceful affairs--near +the shelter of the regimental commander, higher than and different +from the others, Prince Andrew came out in front of a platoon of +grenadiers before whom lay a naked man. Two soldiers held him while +two others were flourishing their switches and striking him +regularly on his bare back. The man shrieked unnaturally. A stout +major was pacing up and down the line, and regardless of the screams +kept repeating: + +"It's a shame for a soldier to steal; a soldier must be honest, +honorable, and brave, but if he robs his fellows there is no honor +in him, he's a scoundrel. Go on! Go on!" + +So the swishing sound of the strokes, and the desperate but +unnatural screams, continued. + +"Go on, go on!" said the major. + +A young officer with a bewildered and pained expression on his +face stepped away from the man and looked round inquiringly at the +adjutant as he rode by. + +Prince Andrew, having reached the front line, rode along it. Our +front line and that of the enemy were far apart on the right and +left flanks, but in the center where the men with a flag of truce +had passed that morning, the lines were so near together that the +men could see one another's faces and speak to one another. Besides +the soldiers who formed the picket line on either side, there were +many curious onlookers who, jesting and laughing, stared at their +strange foreign enemies. + +Since early morning--despite an injunction not to approach the +picket line--the officers had been unable to keep sight-seers away. +The soldiers forming the picket line, like showmen exhibiting a +curiosity, no longer looked at the French but paid attention to the +sight-seers and grew weary waiting to be relieved. Prince Andrew +halted to have a look at the French. + +"Look! Look there!" one soldier was saying to another, pointing to a +Russian musketeer who had gone up to the picket line with an officer +and was rapidly and excitedly talking to a French grenadier. "Hark +to him jabbering! Fine, isn't it? It's all the Frenchy can do to +keep up with him. There now, Sidorov!" + +"Wait a bit and listen. It's fine!" answered Sidorov, who was +considered an adept at French. + +The soldier to whom the laughers referred was Dolokhov. Prince +Andrew recognized him and stopped to listen to what he was saying. +Dolokhov had come from the left flank where their regiment was +stationed, with his captain. + +"Now then, go on, go on!" incited the officer, bending forward and +trying not to lose a word of the speech which was incomprehensible +to him. "More, please: more! What's he saying?" + +Dolokhov did not answer the captain; he had been drawn into a hot +dispute with the French grenadier. They were naturally talking about +the campaign. The Frenchman, confusing the Austrians with the +Russians, was trying to prove that the Russians had surrendered and +had fled all the way from Ulm, while Dolokhov maintained that the +Russians had not surrendered but had beaten the French. + +"We have orders to drive you off here, and we shall drive you +off," said Dolokhov. + +"Only take care you and your Cossacks are not all captured!" said +the French grenadier. + +The French onlookers and listeners laughed. + +"We'll make you dance as we did under Suvorov...,"* said Dolokhov. + + +*"On vous fera danser." + + +"Qu' est-ce qu'il chante?"* asked a Frenchman. + + +*"What's he singing about?" + + +"It's ancient history," said another, guessing that it referred to a +former war. "The Emperor will teach your Suvara as he has taught the +others..." + +"Bonaparte..." began Dolokhov, but the Frenchman interrupted him. + +"Not Bonaparte. He is the Emperor! Sacre nom...!" cried he angrily. + +"The devil skin your Emperor." + +And Dolokhov swore at him in coarse soldier's Russian and +shouldering his musket walked away. + +"Let us go, Ivan Lukich," he said to the captain. + +"Ah, that's the way to talk French," said the picket soldiers. "Now, +Sidorov, you have a try!" + +Sidorov, turning to the French, winked, and began to jabber +meaningless sounds very fast: "Kari, mala, tafa, safi, muter, +Kaska," he said, trying to give an expressive intonation to his voice. + +"Ho! ho! ho! Ha! ha! ha! ha! Ouh! ouh!" came peals of such healthy +and good-humored laughter from the soldiers that it infected the +French involuntarily, so much so that the only thing left to do seemed +to be to unload the muskets, muskets, explode the ammunition, and +all return home as quickly as possible. + +But the guns remained loaded, the loopholes in blockhouses and +entrenchments looked out just as menacingly, and the unlimbered cannon +confronted one another as before. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Having ridden round the whole line from right flank to left, +Prince Andrew made his way up to the battery from which the staff +officer had told him the whole field could be seen. Here he +dismounted, and stopped beside the farthest of the four unlimbered +cannon. Before the guns an artillery sentry was pacing up and down; he +stood at attention when the officer arrived, but at a sign resumed his +measured, monotonous pacing. Behind the guns were their limbers and +still farther back picket ropes and artillerymen's bonfires. To the +left, not far from the farthest cannon, was a small, newly constructed +wattle shed from which came the sound of officers' voices in eager +conversation. + +It was true that a view over nearly the whole Russian position and +the greater part of the enemy's opened out from this battery. Just +facing it, on the crest of the opposite hill, the village of Schon +Grabern could be seen, and in three places to left and right the +French troops amid the smoke of their campfires, the greater part of +whom were evidently in the village itself and behind the hill. To +the left from that village, amid the smoke, was something resembling a +battery, but it was impossible to see it clearly with the naked eye. +Our right flank was posted on a rather steep incline which dominated +the French position. Our infantry were stationed there, and at the +farthest point the dragoons. In the center, where Tushin's battery +stood and from which Prince Andrew was surveying the position, was the +easiest and most direct descent and ascent to the brook separating +us from Schon Grabern. On the left our troops were close to a copse, +in which smoked the bonfires of our infantry who were felling wood. +The French line was wider than ours, and it was plain that they +could easily outflank us on both sides. Behind our position was a +steep and deep dip, making it difficult for artillery and cavalry to +retire. Prince Andrew took out his notebook and, leaning on the +cannon, sketched a plan of the position. He made some notes on two +points, intending to mention them to Bagration. His idea was, first, +to concentrate all the artillery in the center, and secondly, to +withdraw the cavalry to the other side of the dip. Prince Andrew, +being always near the commander in chief, closely following the mass +movements and general orders, and constantly studying historical +accounts of battles, involuntarily pictured to himself the course of +events in the forthcoming action in broad outline. He imagined only +important possibilities: "If the enemy attacks the right flank," he +said to himself, "the Kiev grenadiers and the Podolsk chasseurs must +hold their position till reserves from the center come up. In that +case the dragoons could successfully make a flank counterattack. If +they attack our center we, having the center battery on this high +ground, shall withdraw the left flank under its cover, and retreat +to the dip by echelons." So he reasoned.... All the time he had been +beside the gun, he had heard the voices of the officers distinctly, +but as often happens had not understood a word of what they were +saying. Suddenly, however, he was struck by a voice coming from the +shed, and its tone was so sincere that he could not but listen. + +"No, friend," said a pleasant and, as it seemed to Prince Andrew, +a familiar voice, "what I say is that if it were possible to know what +is beyond death, none of us would be afraid of it. That's so, friend." + +Another, a younger voice, interrupted him: "Afraid or not, you can't +escape it anyhow." + +"All the same, one is afraid! Oh, you clever people," said a third +manly voice interrupting them both. "Of course you artillery men are +very wise, because you can take everything along with you--vodka and +snacks." + +And the owner of the manly voice, evidently an infantry officer, +laughed. + +"Yes, one is afraid," continued the first speaker, he of the +familiar voice. "One is afraid of the unknown, that's what it is. +Whatever we may say about the soul going to the sky... we know there +is no sky but only an atmosphere." + +The manly voice again interrupted the artillery officer. + +"Well, stand us some of your herb vodka, Tushin," it said. + +"Why," thought Prince Andrew, "that's the captain who stood up in +the sutler's hut without his boots." He recognized the agreeable, +philosophizing voice with pleasure. + +"Some herb vodka? Certainly!" said Tushin. "But still, to conceive a +future life..." + +He did not finish. Just then there was a whistle in the air; +nearer and nearer, faster and louder, louder and faster, a cannon +ball, as if it had not finished saying what was necessary, thudded +into the ground near the shed with super human force, throwing up a +mass of earth. The ground seemed to groan at the terrible impact. + +And immediately Tushin, with a short pipe in the corner of his mouth +and his kind, intelligent face rather pale, rushed out of the shed +followed by the owner of the manly voice, a dashing infantry officer +who hurried off to his company, buttoning up his coat as he ran. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Mounting his horse again Prince Andrew lingered with the battery, +looking at the puff from the gun that had sent the ball. His eyes +ran rapidly over the wide space, but he only saw that the hitherto +motionless masses of the French now swayed and that there really was a +battery to their left. The smoke above it had not yet dispersed. Two +mounted Frenchmen, probably adjutants, were galloping up the hill. A +small but distinctly visible enemy column was moving down the hill, +probably to strengthen the front line. The smoke of the first shot had +not yet dispersed before another puff appeared, followed by a +report. The battle had begun! Prince Andrew turned his horse and +galloped back to Grunth to find Prince Bagration. He heard the +cannonade behind him growing louder and more frequent. Evidently our +guns had begun to reply. From the bottom of the slope, where the +parleys had taken place, came the report of musketry. + +Lemarrois had just arrived at a gallop with Bonaparte's stern +letter, and Murat, humiliated and anxious to expiate his fault, had at +once moved his forces to attack the center and outflank both the +Russian wings, hoping before evening and before the arrival of the +Emperor to crush the contemptible detachment that stood before him. + +"It has begun. Here it is!" thought Prince Andrew, feeling the blood +rush to his heart. "But where and how will my Toulon present itself?" + +Passing between the companies that had been eating porridge and +drinking vodka a quarter of an hour before, he saw everywhere the same +rapid movement of soldiers forming ranks and getting their muskets +ready, and on all their faces he recognized the same eagerness that +filled his heart. "It has begun! Here it is, dreadful but +enjoyable!" was what the face of each soldier and each officer +seemed to say. + +Before he had reached the embankments that were being thrown up, +he saw, in the light of the dull autumn evening, mounted men coming +toward him. The foremost, wearing a Cossack cloak and lambskin cap and +riding a white horse, was Prince Bagration. Prince Andrew stopped, +waiting for him to come up; Prince Bagration reined in his horse and +recognizing Prince Andrew nodded to him. He still looked ahead while +Prince Andrew told him what he had seen. + +The feeling, "It has begun! Here it is!" was seen even on Prince +Bagration's hard brown face with its half-closed, dull, sleepy eyes. +Prince Andrew gazed with anxious curiosity at that impassive face +and wished he could tell what, if anything, this man was thinking +and feeling at that moment. "Is there anything at all behind that +impassive face?" Prince Andrew asked himself as he looked. Prince +Bagration bent his head in sign of agreement with what Prince Andrew +told him, and said, "Very good!" in a tone that seemed to imply that +everything that took place and was reported to him was exactly what he +had foreseen. Prince Andrew, out of breath with his rapid ride, +spoke quickly. Prince Bagration, uttering his words with an Oriental +accent, spoke particularly slowly, as if to impress the fact that +there was no need to hurry. However, he put his horse to a trot in the +direction of Tushin's battery. Prince Andrew followed with the +suite. Behind Prince Bagration rode an officer of the suite, the +prince's personal adjutant, Zherkov, an orderly officer, the staff +officer on duty, riding a fine bobtailed horse, and a civilian--an +accountant who had asked permission to be present at the battle out of +curiosity. The accountant, a stout, full-faced man, looked around +him with a naive smile of satisfaction and presented a strange +appearance among the hussars, Cossacks, and adjutants, in his camlet +coat, as he jolted on his horse with a convoy officer's saddle. + +"He wants to see a battle," said Zherkov to Bolkonski, pointing to +the accountant, "but he feels a pain in the pit of his stomach +already." + +"Oh, leave off!" said the accountant with a beaming but rather +cunning smile, as if flattered at being made the subject of +Zherkov's joke, and purposely trying to appear stupider than he really +was. + +"It is very strange, mon Monsieur Prince," said the staff officer. +(He remembered that in French there is some peculiar way of addressing +a prince, but could not get it quite right.) + +By this time they were all approaching Tushin's battery, and a +ball struck the ground in front of them. + +"What's that that has fallen?" asked the accountant with a naive +smile. + +"A French pancake," answered Zherkov. + +"So that's what they hit with?" asked the accountant. "How awful!" + +He seemed to swell with satisfaction. He had hardly finished +speaking when they again heard an unexpectedly violent whistling which +suddenly ended with a thud into something soft... f-f-flop! and a +Cossack, riding a little to their right and behind the accountant, +crashed to earth with his horse. Zherkov and the staff officer bent +over their saddles and turned their horses away. The accountant +stopped, facing the Cossack, and examined him with attentive +curiosity. The Cossack was dead, but the horse still struggled. + +Prince Bagration screwed up his eyes, looked round, and, seeing +the cause of the confusion, turned away with indifference, as if to +say, "Is it worth while noticing trifles?" He reined in his horse with +the case of a skillful rider and, slightly bending over, disengaged +his saber which had caught in his cloak. It was an old-fashioned saber +of a kind no longer in general use. Prince Andrew remembered the story +of Suvorov giving his saber to Bagration in Italy, and the +recollection was particularly pleasant at that moment. They had +reached the battery at which Prince Andrew had been when he examined +the battlefield. + +"Whose company?" asked Prince Bagration of an artilleryman +standing by the ammunition wagon. + +He asked, "Whose company?" but he really meant, "Are you +frightened here?" and the artilleryman understood him. + +"Captain Tushin's, your excellency!" shouted the red-haired, +freckled gunner in a merry voice, standing to attention. + +"Yes, yes," muttered Bagration as if considering something, and he +rode past the limbers to the farthest cannon. + +As he approached, a ringing shot issued from it deafening him and +his suite, and in the smoke that suddenly surrounded the gun they +could see the gunners who had seized it straining to roll it quickly +back to its former position. A huge, broad-shouldered gunner, Number +One, holding a mop, his legs far apart, sprang to the wheel; while +Number Two with a trembling hand placed a charge in the cannon's +mouth. The short, round-shouldered Captain Tushin, stumbling over +the tail of the gun carriage, moved forward and, not noticing the +general, looked out shading his eyes with his small hand. + +"Lift it two lines more and it will be just right," cried he in a +feeble voice to which he tried to impart a dashing note, ill suited to +his weak figure. "Number Two!" he squeaked. "Fire, Medvedev!" + +Bagration called to him, and Tushin, raising three fingers to his +cap with a bashful and awkward gesture not at all like a military +salute but like a priest's benediction, approached the general. Though +Tushin's guns had been intended to cannonade the valley, he was firing +incendiary balls at the village of Schon Grabern visible just +opposite, in front of which large masses of French were advancing. + +No one had given Tushin orders where and at what to fire, but +after consulting his sergeant major, Zakharchenko, for whom he had +great respect, he had decided that it would be a good thing to set +fire to the village. "Very good!" said Bagration in reply to the +officer's report, and began deliberately to examine the whole +battlefield extended before him. The French had advanced nearest on +our right. Below the height on which the Kiev regiment was +stationed, in the hollow where the rivulet flowed, the soul-stirring +rolling and crackling of musketry was heard, and much farther to the +right beyond the dragoons, the officer of the suite pointed out to +Bagration a French column that was outflanking us. To the left the +horizon bounded by the adjacent wood. Prince Bagration ordered two +battalions from the center to be sent to reinforce the right flank. +The officer of the suite ventured to remark to the prince that if +these battalions went away, the guns would remain without support. +Prince Bagration turned to the officer and with his dull eyes looked +at him in silence. It seemed to Prince Andrew that the officer's +remark was just and that really no answer could be made to it. But +at that moment an adjutant galloped up with a message from the +commander of the regiment in the hollow and news that immense masses +of the French were coming down upon them and that his regiment was +in disorder and was retreating upon the Kiev grenadiers. Prince +Bagration bowed his head in sign of assent and approval. He rode off +at a walk to the right and sent an adjutant to the dragoons with +orders to attack the French. But this adjutant returned half an hour +later with the news that the commander of the dragoons had already +retreated beyond the dip in the ground, as a heavy fire had been +opened on him and he was losing men uselessly, and so had hastened +to throw some sharpshooters into the wood. + +"Very good!" said Bagration. + +As he was leaving the battery, firing was heard on the left also, +and as it was too far to the left flank for him to have time to go +there himself, Prince Bagration sent Zherkov to tell the general in +command (the one who had paraded his regiment before Kutuzov at +Braunau) that he must retreat as quickly as possible behind the hollow +in the rear, as the right flank would probably not be able to +withstand the enemy's attack very long. About Tushin and the battalion +that had been in support of his battery all was forgotten. Prince +Andrew listened attentively to Bagration's colloquies with the +commanding officers and the orders he gave them and, to his +surprise, found that no orders were really given, but that Prince +Bagration tried to make it appear that everything done by necessity, +by accident, or by the will of subordinate commanders was done, if not +by his direct command, at least in accord with his intentions. +Prince Andrew noticed, however, that though what happened was due to +chance and was independent of the commander's will, owing to the +tact Bagration showed, his presence was very valuable. Officers who +approached him with disturbed countenances became calm; soldiers and +officers greeted him gaily, grew more cheerful in his presence, and +were evidently anxious to display their courage before him. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Prince Bagration, having reached the highest point of our right +flank, began riding downhill to where the roll of musketry was heard +but where on account of the smoke nothing could be seen. The nearer +they got to the hollow the less they could see but the more they +felt the nearness of the actual battlefield. They began to meet +wounded men. One with a bleeding head and no cap was being dragged +along by two soldiers who supported him under the arms. There was a +gurgle in his throat and he was spitting blood. A bullet had evidently +hit him in the throat or mouth. Another was walking sturdily by +himself but without his musket, groaning aloud and swinging his arm +which had just been hurt, while blood from it was streaming over his +greatcoat as from a bottle. He had that moment been wounded and his +face showed fear rather than suffering. Crossing a road they descended +a steep incline and saw several men lying on the ground; they also met +a crowd of soldiers some of whom were unwounded. The soldiers were +ascending the hill breathing heavily, and despite the general's +presence were talking loudly and gesticulating. In front of them +rows of gray cloaks were already visible through the smoke, and an +officer catching sight of Bagration rushed shouting after the crowd of +retreating soldiers, ordering them back. Bagration rode up to the +ranks along which shots crackled now here and now there, drowning +the sound of voices and the shouts of command. The whole air reeked +with smoke. The excited faces of the soldiers were blackened with +it. Some were using their ramrods, others putting powder on the +touchpans or taking charges from their pouches, while others were +firing, though who they were firing at could not be seen for the smoke +which there was no wind to carry away. A pleasant humming and +whistling of bullets were often heard. "What is this?" thought +Prince Andrew approaching the crowd of soldiers. "It can't be an +attack, for they are not moving; it can't be a square--for they are +not drawn up for that." + +The commander of the regiment, a thin, feeble-looking old man with a +pleasant smile--his eyelids drooping more than half over his old eyes, +giving him a mild expression, rode up to Bagration and welcomed him as +a host welcomes an honored guest. He reported that his regiment had +been attacked by French cavalry and that, though the attack had been +repulsed, he had lost more than half his men. He said the attack had +been repulsed, employing this military term to describe what had +occurred to his regiment, but in reality he did not himself know +what had happened during that half-hour to the troops entrusted to +him, and could not say with certainty whether the attack had been +repulsed or his regiment had been broken up. All he knew was that at +the commencement of the action balls and shells began flying all +over his regiment and hitting men and that afterwards someone had +shouted "Cavalry!" and our men had begun firing. They were still +firing, not at the cavalry which had disappeared, but at French +infantry who had come into the hollow and were firing at our men. +Prince Bagration bowed his head as a sign that this was exactly what +he had desired and expected. Turning to his adjutant he ordered him to +bring down the two battalions of the Sixth Chasseurs whom they had +just passed. Prince Andrew was struck by the changed expression on +Prince Bagration's face at this moment. It expressed the +concentrated and happy resolution you see on the face of a man who +on a hot day takes a final run before plunging into the water. The +dull, sleepy expression was no longer there, nor the affectation of +profound thought. The round, steady, hawk's eyes looked before him +eagerly and rather disdainfully, not resting on anything although +his movements were still slow and measured. + +The commander of the regiment turned to Prince Bagration, entreating +him to go back as it was too dangerous to remain where they were. +"Please, your excellency, for God's sake!" he kept saying, glancing +for support at an officer of the suite who turned away from him. +"There, you see!" and he drew attention to the bullets whistling, +singing, and hissing continually around them. He spoke in the tone +of entreaty and reproach that a carpenter uses to a gentleman who +has picked up an ax: "We are used to it, but you, sir, will blister +your hands." He spoke as if those bullets could not kill him, and +his half-closed eyes gave still more persuasiveness to his words. +The staff officer joined in the colonel's appeals, but Bagration did +not reply; he only gave an order to cease firing and re-form, so as to +give room for the two approaching battalions. While he was speaking, +the curtain of smoke that had concealed the hollow, driven by a rising +wind, began to move from right to left as if drawn by an invisible +hand, and the hill opposite, with the French moving about on it, +opened out before them. All eyes fastened involuntarily on this French +column advancing against them and winding down over the uneven ground. +One could already see the soldiers' shaggy caps, distinguish the +officers from the men, and see the standard flapping against its +staff. + +"They march splendidly," remarked someone in Bagration's suite. + +The head of the column had already descended into the hollow. The +clash would take place on this side of it... + +The remains of our regiment which had been in action rapidly +formed up and moved to the right; from behind it, dispersing the +laggards, came two battalions of the Sixth Chasseurs in fine order. +Before they had reached Bagration, the weighty tread of the mass of +men marching in step could be heard. On their left flank, nearest to +Bagration, marched a company commander, a fine round-faced man, with a +stupid and happy expression--the same man who had rushed out of the +wattle shed. At that moment he was clearly thinking of nothing but how +dashing a fellow he would appear as he passed the commander. + +With the self-satisfaction of a man on parade, he stepped lightly +with his muscular legs as if sailing along, stretching himself to +his full height without the smallest effort, his ease contrasting with +the heavy tread of the soldiers who were keeping step with him. He +carried close to his leg a narrow unsheathed sword (small, curved, and +not like a real weapon) and looked now at the superior officers and +now back at the men without losing step, his whole powerful body +turning flexibly. It was as if all the powers of his soul were +concentrated on passing the commander in the best possible manner, and +feeling that he was doing it well he was happy. "Left... left... +left..." he seemed to repeat to himself at each alternate step; and in +time to this, with stern but varied faces, the wall of soldiers +burdened with knapsacks and muskets marched in step, and each one of +these hundreds of soldiers seemed to be repeating to himself at each +alternate step, "Left... left... left..." A fat major skirted a +bush, puffing and falling out of step; a soldier who had fallen +behind, his face showing alarm at his defection, ran at a trot, +panting to catch up with his company. A cannon ball, cleaving the air, +flew over the heads of Bagration and his suite, and fell into the +column to the measure of "Left... left!" "Close up!" came the +company commander's voice in jaunty tones. The soldiers passed in a +semicircle round something where the ball had fallen, and an old +trooper on the flank, a noncommissioned officer who had stopped beside +the dead men, ran to catch up his line and, falling into step with a +hop, looked back angrily, and through the ominous silence and the +regular tramp of feet beating the ground in unison, one seemed to hear +left... left... left. + +"Well done, lads!" said Prince Bagration. + +"Glad to do our best, your ex'len-lency!" came a confused shout from +the ranks. A morose soldier marching on the left turned his eyes on +Bagration as he shouted, with an expression that seemed to say: "We +know that ourselves!" Another, without looking round, as though +fearing to relax, shouted with his mouth wide open and passed on. + +The order was given to halt and down knapsacks. + +Bagration rode round the ranks that had marched past him and +dismounted. He gave the reins to a Cossack, took off and handed over +his felt coat, stretched his legs, and set his cap straight. The +head of the French column, with its officers leading, appeared from +below the hill. + +"Forward, with God!" said Bagration, in a resolute, sonorous +voice, turning for a moment to the front line, and slightly swinging +his arms, he went forward uneasily over the rough field with the +awkward gait of a cavalryman. Prince Andrew felt that an invisible +power was leading him forward, and experienced great happiness. + +The French were already near. Prince Andrew, walking beside +Bagration, could clearly distinguish their bandoliers, red epaulets, +and even their faces. (He distinctly saw an old French officer who, +with gaitered legs and turned-out toes, climbed the hill with +difficulty.) Prince Bagration gave no further orders and silently +continued to walk on in front of the ranks. Suddenly one shot after +another rang out from the French, smoke appeared all along their +uneven ranks, and musket shots sounded. Several of our men fell, among +them the round-faced officer who had marched so gaily and +complacently. But at the moment the first report was heard, +Bagration looked round and shouted, "Hurrah!" + +"Hurrah--ah!--ah!" rang a long-drawn shout from our ranks, and +passing Bagration and racing one another they rushed in an irregular +but joyous and eager crowd down the hill at their disordered foe. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +The attack of the Sixth Chasseurs secured the retreat of our right +flank. In the center Tushin's forgotten battery, which had managed +to set fire to the Schon Grabern village, delayed the French +advance. The French were putting out the fire which the wind was +spreading, and thus gave us time to retreat. The retirement of the +center to the other side of the dip in the ground at the rear was +hurried and noisy, but the different companies did not get mixed. +But our left--which consisted of the Azov and Podolsk infantry and the +Pavlograd hussars--was simultaneously attacked and outflanked by +superior French forces under Lannes and was thrown into confusion. +Bagration had sent Zherkov to the general commanding that left flank +with orders to retreat immediately. + +Zherkov, not removing his hand from his cap, turned his horse +about and galloped off. But no sooner had he left Bagration than his +courage failed him. He was seized by panic and could not go where it +was dangerous. + +Having reached the left flank, instead of going to the front where +the firing was, he began to look for the general and his staff where +they could not possibly be, and so did not deliver the order. + +The command of the left flank belonged by seniority to the commander +of the regiment Kutuzov had reviewed at Braunau and in which +Dolokhov was serving as a private. But the command of the extreme left +flank had been assigned to the commander of the Pavlograd regiment +in which Rostov was serving, and a misunderstanding arose. The two +commanders were much exasperated with one another and, long after +the action had begun on the right flank and the French were already +advancing, were engaged in discussion with the sole object of +offending one another. But the regiments, both cavalry and infantry, +were by no means ready for the impending action. From privates to +general they were not expecting a battle and were engaged in +peaceful occupations, the cavalry feeding the horses and the +infantry collecting wood. + +"He higher iss dan I in rank," said the German colonel of the +hussars, flushing and addressing an adjutant who had ridden up, "so +let him do what he vill, but I cannot sacrifice my hussars... +Bugler, sount ze retreat!" + +But haste was becoming imperative. Cannon and musketry, mingling +together, thundered on the right and in the center, while the +capotes of Lannes' sharpshooters were already seen crossing the +milldam and forming up within twice the range of a musket shot. The +general in command of the infantry went toward his horse with jerky +steps, and having mounted drew himself up very straight and tall and +rode to the Pavlograd commander. The commanders met with polite bows +but with secret malevolence in their hearts. + +"Once again, Colonel," said the general, "I can't leave half my +men in the wood. I beg of you, I beg of you," he repeated, "to +occupy the position and prepare for an attack." + +"I peg of you yourself not to mix in vot is not your business!" +suddenly replied the irate colonel. "If you vere in the cavalry..." + +"I am not in the cavalry, Colonel, but I am a Russian general and if +you are not aware of the fact..." + +"Quite avare, your excellency," suddenly shouted the colonel, +touching his horse and turning purple in the face. "Vill you be so +goot to come to ze front and see dat zis position iss no goot? I don't +vish to destroy my men for your pleasure!" + +"You forget yourself, Colonel. I am not considering my own +pleasure and I won't allow it to be said!" + +Taking the colonel's outburst as a challenge to his courage, the +general expanded his chest and rode, frowning, beside him to the front +line, as if their differences would be settled there amongst the +bullets. They reached the front, several bullets sped over them, and +they halted in silence. There was nothing fresh to be seen from the +line, for from where they had been before it had been evident that +it was impossible for cavalry to act among the bushes and broken +ground, as well as that the French were outflanking our left. The +general and colonel looked sternly and significantly at one another +like two fighting cocks preparing for battle, each vainly trying to +detect signs of cowardice in the other. Both passed the examination +successfully. As there was nothing to said, and neither wished to give +occasion for it to be alleged that he had been the first to leave +the range of fire, they would have remained there for a long time +testing each other's courage had it not been that just then they heard +the rattle of musketry and a muffled shout almost behind them in the +wood. The French had attacked the men collecting wood in the copse. It +was no longer possible for the hussars to retreat with the infantry. +They were cut off from the line of retreat on the left by the +French. However inconvenient the position, it was now necessary to +attack in order to cut away through for themselves. + +The squadron in which Rostov was serving had scarcely time to +mount before it was halted facing the enemy. Again, as at the Enns +bridge, there was nothing between the squadron and the enemy, and +again that terrible dividing line of uncertainty and fear- +resembling the line separating the living from the dead--lay between +them. All were conscious of this unseen line, and the question whether +they would cross it or not, and how they would cross it, +agitated them all. + +The colonel rode to the front, angrily gave some reply to +questions put to him by the officers, and, like a man desperately +insisting on having his own way, gave an order. No one said anything +definite, but the rumor of an attack spread through the squadron. +The command to form up rang out and the sabers whizzed as they were +drawn from their scabbards. Still no one moved. The troops of the left +flank, infantry and hussars alike, felt that the commander did not +himself know what to do, and this irresolution communicated itself +to the men. + +"If only they would be quick!" thought Rostov, feeling that at +last the time had come to experience the joy of an attack of which +he had so often heard from his fellow hussars. + +"Fo'ward, with God, lads!" rang out Denisov's voice. "At a twot +fo'ward!" + +The horses' croups began to sway in the front line. Rook pulled at +the reins and started of his own accord. + +Before him, on the right, Rostov saw the front lines of his +hussars and still farther ahead a dark line which he could not see +distinctly but took to be the enemy. Shots could be heard, but some +way off. + +"Faster!" came the word of command, and Rostov felt Rook's flanks +drooping as he broke into a gallop. + +Rostov anticipated his horse's movements and became more and more +elated. He had noticed a solitary tree ahead of him. This tree had +been in the middle of the line that had seemed so terrible--and now he +had crossed that line and not only was there nothing terrible, but +everything was becoming more and more happy and animated. "Oh, how I +will slash at him!" thought Rostov, gripping the hilt of his saber. + +"Hur-a-a-a-ah!" came a roar of voices. "Let anyone come my way now," +thought Rostov driving his spurs into Rook and letting him go at a +full gallop so that he outstripped the others. Ahead, the enemy was +already visible. Suddenly something like a birch broom seemed to sweep +over the squadron. Rostov raised his saber, ready to strike, but at +that instant the trooper Nikitenko, who was galloping ahead, shot away +from him, and Rostov felt as in a dream that he continued to be +carried forward with unnatural speed but yet stayed on the same +spot. From behind him Bondarchuk, an hussar he knew, jolted against +him and looked angrily at him. Bondarchuk's horse swerved and galloped +past. + +"How is it I am not moving? I have fallen, I am killed!" Rostov +asked and answered at the same instant. He was alone in the middle +of a field. Instead of the moving horses and hussars' backs, he saw +nothing before him but the motionless earth and the stubble around +him. There was warm blood under his arm. "No, I am wounded and the +horse is killed." Rook tried to rise on his forelegs but fell back, +pinning his rider's leg. Blood was flowing from his head; he struggled +but could not rise. Rostov also tried to rise but fell back, his +sabretache having become entangled in the saddle. Where our men +were, and where the French, he did not know. There was no one near. + +Having disentangled his leg, he rose. "Where, on which side, was now +the line that had so sharply divided the two armies?" he asked himself +and could not answer. "Can something bad have happened to me?" he +wondered as he got up: and at that moment he felt that something +superfluous was hanging on his benumbed left arm. The wrist felt as if +it were not his. He examined his hand carefully, vainly trying to find +blood on it. "Ah, here are people coming," he thought joyfully, seeing +some men running toward him. "They will help me!" In front came a +man wearing a strange shako and a blue cloak, swarthy, sunburned, +and with a hooked nose. Then came two more, and many more running +behind. One of them said something strange, not in Russian. In among +the hindmost of these men wearing similar shakos was a Russian hussar. +He was being held by the arms and his horse was being led behind him. + +"It must be one of ours, a prisoner. Yes. Can it be that they will +take me too? Who are these men?" thought Rostov, scarcely believing +his eyes. "Can they be French?" He looked at the approaching +Frenchmen, and though but a moment before he had been galloping to get +at them and hack them to pieces, their proximity now seemed so awful +that he could not believe his eyes. "Who are they? Why are they +running? Can they be coming at me? And why? To kill me? Me whom +everyone is so fond of?" He remembered his mother's love for him, +and his family's, and his friends', and the enemy's intention to +kill him seemed impossible. "But perhaps they may do it!" For more +than ten seconds he stood not moving from the spot or realizing the +situation. The foremost Frenchman, the one with the hooked nose, was +already so close that the expression of his face could be seen. And +the excited, alien face of that man, his bayonet hanging down, holding +his breath, and running so lightly, frightened Rostov. He seized his +pistol and, instead of firing it, flung it at the Frenchman and ran +with all his might toward the bushes. He did not now run with the +feeling of doubt and conflict with which he had trodden the Enns +bridge, but with the feeling of a hare fleeing from the hounds. One +single sentiment, that of fear for his young and happy life, possessed +his whole being. Rapidly leaping the furrows, he fled across the field +with the impetuosity he used to show at catchplay, now and then +turning his good-natured, pale, young face to look back. A shudder +of terror went through him: "No, better not look," he thought, but +having reached the bushes he glanced round once more. The French had +fallen behind, and just as he looked round the first man changed his +run to a walk and, turning, shouted something loudly to a comrade +farther back. Rostov paused. "No, there's some mistake," thought he. +"They can't have wanted to kill me." But at the same time, his left +arm felt as heavy as if a seventy-pound weight were tied to it. He +could run no more. The Frenchman also stopped and took aim. Rostov +closed his eyes and stooped down. One bullet and then another whistled +past him. He mustered his last remaining strength, took hold of his +left hand with his right, and reached the bushes. Behind these were +some Russian sharpshooters. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +The infantry regiments that had been caught unawares in the +outskirts of the wood ran out of it, the different companies getting +mixed, and retreated as a disorderly crowd. One soldier, in his +fear, uttered the senseless cry, "Cut off!" that is so terrible in +battle, and that word infected the whole crowd with a feeling of +panic. + +"Surrounded! Cut off? We're lost!" shouted the fugitives. + +The moment he heard the firing and the cry from behind, the +general realized that something dreadful had happened to his regiment, +and the thought that he, an exemplary officer of many years' service +who had never been to blame, might be held responsible at headquarters +for negligence or inefficiency so staggered him that, forgetting the +recalcitrant cavalry colonel, his own dignity as a general, and +above all quite forgetting the danger and all regard for +self-preservation, he clutched the crupper of his saddle and, spurring +his horse, galloped to the regiment under a hail of bullets which fell +around, but fortunately missed him. His one desire was to know what +was happening and at any cost correct, or remedy, the mistake if he +had made one, so that he, an exemplary officer of twenty-two years' +service, who had never been censured, should not be held to blame. + +Having galloped safely through the French, he reached a field behind +the copse across which our men, regardless of orders, were running and +descending the valley. That moment of moral hesitation which decides +the fate of battles had arrived. Would this disorderly crowd of +soldiers attend to the voice of their commander, or would they, +disregarding him, continue their flight? Despite his desperate +shouts that used to seem so terrible to the soldiers, despite his +furious purple countenance distorted out of all likeness to his former +self, and the flourishing of his saber, the soldiers all continued +to run, talking, firing into the air, and disobeying orders. The moral +hesitation which decided the fate of battles was evidently culminating +in a panic. + +The general had a fit of coughing as a result of shouting and of the +powder smoke and stopped in despair. Everything seemed lost. But at +that moment the French who were attacking, suddenly and without any +apparent reason, ran back and disappeared from the outskirts, and +Russian sharpshooters showed themselves in the copse. It was +Timokhin's company, which alone had maintained its order in the wood +and, having lain in ambush in a ditch, now attacked the French +unexpectedly. Timokhin, armed only with a sword, had rushed at the +enemy with such a desperate cry and such mad, drunken determination +that, taken by surprise, the French had thrown down their muskets +and run. Dolokhov, running beside Timokhin, killed a Frenchman at +close quarters and was the first to seize the surrendering French +officer by his collar. Our fugitives returned, the battalions +re-formed, and the French who had nearly cut our left flank in half +were for the moment repulsed. Our reserve units were able to join +up, and the fight was at an end. The regimental commander and Major +Ekonomov had stopped beside a bridge, letting the retreating companies +pass by them, when a soldier came up and took hold of the +commander's stirrup, almost leaning against him. The man was wearing a +bluish coat of broadcloth, he had no knapsack or cap, his head was +bandaged, and over his shoulder a French munition pouch was slung. +He had an officer's sword in his hand. The soldier was pale, his +blue eyes looked impudently into the commander's face, and his lips +were smiling. Though the commander was occupied in giving instructions +to Major Ekonomov, he could not help taking notice of the soldier. + +"Your excellency, here are two trophies," said Dolokhov, pointing to +the French sword and pouch. "I have taken an officer prisoner. I +stopped the company." Dolokhov breathed heavily from weariness and +spoke in abrupt sentences. "The whole company can bear witness. I +beg you will remember this, your excellency!" + +"All right, all right," replied the commander, and turned to Major +Ekonomov. + +But Dolokhov did not go away; he untied the handkerchief around +his head, pulled it off, and showed the blood congealed on his hair. + +"A bayonet wound. I remained at the front. Remember, your +excellency!" + + +Tushin's battery had been forgotten and only at the very end of +the action did Prince Bagration, still hearing the cannonade in the +center, send his orderly staff officer, and later Prince Andrew +also, to order the battery to retire as quickly as possible. When +the supports attached to Tushin's battery had been moved away in the +middle of the action by someone's order, the battery had continued +firing and was only not captured by the French because the enemy could +not surmise that anyone could have the effrontery to continue firing +from four quite undefended guns. On the contrary, the energetic action +of that battery led the French to suppose that here--in the center- +the main Russian forces were concentrated. Twice they had attempted to +attack this point, but on each occasion had been driven back by +grapeshot from the four isolated guns on the hillock. + +Soon after Prince Bagration had left him, Tushin had succeeded in +setting fire to Schon Grabern. + +"Look at them scurrying! It's burning! Just see the smoke! Fine! +Grand! Look at the smoke, the smoke!" exclaimed the artillerymen, +brightening up. + +All the guns, without waiting for orders, were being fired in the +direction of the conflagration. As if urging each other on, the +soldiers cried at each shot: "Fine! That's good! Look at it... Grand!" +The fire, fanned by the breeze, was rapidly spreading. The French +columns that had advanced beyond the village went back; but as +though in revenge for this failure, the enemy placed ten guns to the +right of the village and began firing them at Tushin's battery. + +In their childlike glee, aroused by the fire and their luck in +successfully cannonading the French, our artillerymen only noticed +this battery when two balls, and then four more, fell among our +guns, one knocking over two horses and another tearing off a +munition-wagon driver's leg. Their spirits once roused were, +however, not diminished, but only changed character. The horses were +replaced by others from a reserve gun carriage, the wounded were +carried away, and the four guns were turned against the ten-gun +battery. Tushin's companion officer had been killed at the beginning +of the engagement and within an hour seventeen of the forty men of the +guns' crews had been disabled, but the artillerymen were still as +merry and lively as ever. Twice they noticed the French appearing +below them, and then they fired grapeshot at them. + +Little Tushin, moving feebly and awkwardly, kept telling his orderly +to "refill my pipe for that one!" and then, scattering sparks from it, +ran forward shading his eyes with his small hand to look at the +French. + +"Smack at 'em, lads!" he kept saying, seizing the guns by the wheels +and working the screws himself. + +Amid the smoke, deafened by the incessant reports which always +made him jump, Tushin not taking his pipe from his mouth ran from +gun to gun, now aiming, now counting the charges, now giving orders +about replacing dead or wounded horses and harnessing fresh ones, +and shouting in his feeble voice, so high pitched and irresolute. +His face grew more and more animated. Only when a man was killed or +wounded did he frown and turn away from the sight, shouting angrily at +the men who, as is always the case, hesitated about lifting the +injured or dead. The soldiers, for the most part handsome fellows and, +as is always the case in an artillery company, a head and shoulders +taller and twice as broad as their officer--all looked at their +commander like children in an embarrassing situation, and the +expression on his face was invariably reflected on theirs. + +Owing to the terrible uproar and the necessity for concentration and +activity, Tushin did not experience the slightest unpleasant sense +of fear, and the thought that he might be killed or badly wounded +never occurred to him. On the contrary, he became more and more +elated. It seemed to him that it was a very long time ago, almost a +day, since he had first seen the enemy and fired the first shot, and +that the corner of the field he stood on was well-known and familiar +ground. Though he thought of everything, considered everything, and +did everything the best of officers could do in his position, he was +in a state akin to feverish delirium or drunkenness. + +From the deafening sounds of his own guns around him, the whistle +and thud of the enemy's cannon balls, from the flushed and +perspiring faces of the crew bustling round the guns, from the sight +of the blood of men and horses, from the little puffs of smoke on +the enemy's side (always followed by a ball flying past and striking +the earth, a man, a gun, a horse), from the sight of all these +things a fantastic world of his own had taken possession of his +brain and at that moment afforded him pleasure. The enemy's guns +were in his fancy not guns but pipes from which occasional puffs +were blown by an invisible smoker. + +"There... he's puffing again," muttered Tushin to himself, as a +small cloud rose from the hill and was borne in a streak to the left +by the wind. + +"Now look out for the ball... we'll throw it back." + +"What do you want, your honor?" asked an artilleryman, standing +close by, who heard him muttering. + +"Nothing... only a shell..." he answered. + +"Come along, our Matvevna!" he said to himself. "Matvevna"* was +the name his fancy gave to the farthest gun of the battery, which +was large and of an old pattern. The French swarming round their +guns seemed to him like ants. In that world, the handsome drunkard +Number One of the second gun's crew was "uncle"; Tushin looked at +him more often than at anyone else and took delight in his every +movement. The sound of musketry at the foot of the hill, now +diminishing, now increasing, seemed like someone's breathing. He +listened intently to the ebb and flow of these sounds. + + +*Daughter of Matthew. + + +"Ah! Breathing again, breathing!" he muttered to himself. + +He imagined himself as an enormously tall, powerful man who was +throwing cannon balls at the French with both hands. + +"Now then, Matvevna, dear old lady, don't let me down!" he was +saying as he moved from the gun, when a strange, unfamiliar voice +called above his head: "Captain Tushin! Captain!" + +Tushin turned round in dismay. It was the staff officer who had +turned him out of the booth at Grunth. He was shouting in a gasping +voice: + +"Are you mad? You have twice been ordered to retreat, and you..." + +"Why are they down on me?" thought Tushin, looking in alarm at his +superior. + +"I... don't..." he muttered, holding up two fingers to his cap. +"I..." + +But the staff officer did not finish what he wanted to say. A cannon +ball, flying close to him, caused him to duck and bend over his horse. +He paused, and just as he was about to say something more, another +ball stopped him. He turned his horse and galloped off. + +"Retire! All to retire!" he shouted from a distance. + +The soldiers laughed. A moment later, an adjutant arrived with the +same order. + +It was Prince Andrew. The first thing he saw on riding up to the +space where Tushin's guns were stationed was an unharnessed horse with +a broken leg, that lay screaming piteously beside the harnessed +horses. Blood was gushing from its leg as from a spring. Among the +limbers lay several dead men. One ball after another passed over as he +approached and he felt a nervous shudder run down his spine. But the +mere thought of being afraid roused him again. "I cannot be afraid," +thought he, and dismounted slowly among the guns. He delivered the +order and did not leave the battery. He decided to have the guns +removed from their positions and withdrawn in his presence. Together +with Tushin, stepping across the bodies and under a terrible fire from +the French, he attended to the removal of the guns. + +"A staff officer was here a minute ago, but skipped off," said an +artilleryman to Prince Andrew. "Not like your honor!" + +Prince Andrew said nothing to Tushin. They were both so busy as to +seem not to notice one another. When having limbered up the only two +cannon that remained uninjured out of the four, they began moving down +the hill (one shattered gun and one unicorn were left behind), +Prince Andrew rode up to Tushin. + +"Well, till we meet again..." he said, holding out his hand to +Tushin. + +"Good-by, my dear fellow," said Tushin. "Dear soul! Good-by, my dear +fellow!" and for some unknown reason tears suddenly filled his eyes. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +The wind had fallen and black clouds, merging with the powder smoke, +hung low over the field of battle on the horizon. It was growing +dark and the glow of two conflagrations was the more conspicuous. +The cannonade was dying down, but the rattle of musketry behind and on +the right sounded oftener and nearer. As soon as Tushin with his guns, +continually driving round or coming upon wounded men, was out of range +of fire and had descended into the dip, he was met by some of the +staff, among them the staff officer and Zherkov, who had been twice +sent to Tushin's battery but had never reached it. Interrupting one +another, they all gave, and transmitted, orders as to how to +proceed, reprimanding and reproaching him. Tushin gave no orders, and, +silently--fearing to speak because at every word he felt ready to weep +without knowing why--rode behind on his artillery nag. Though the +orders were to abandon the wounded, many of them dragged themselves +after troops and begged for seats on the gun carriages. The jaunty +infantry officer who just before the battle had rushed out of Tushin's +wattle shed was laid, with a bullet in his stomach, on "Matvevna's" +carriage. At the foot of the hill, a pale hussar cadet, supporting one +hand with the other, came up to Tushin and asked for a seat. + +"Captain, for God's sake! I've hurt my arm," he said timidly. "For +God's sake... I can't walk. For God's sake!" + +It was plain that this cadet had already repeatedly asked for a lift +and been refused. He asked in a hesitating, piteous voice. + +"Tell them to give me a seat, for God's sake!" + +"Give him a seat," said Tushin. "Lay a cloak for him to sit on, +lad," he said, addressing his favorite soldier. "And where is the +wounded officer?" + +"He has been set down. He died," replied someone. + +"Help him up. Sit down, dear fellow, sit down! Spread out the cloak, +Antonov." + +The cadet was Rostov. With one hand he supported the other; he was +pale and his jaw trembled, shivering feverishly. He was placed on +"Matvevna," the gun from which they had removed the dead officer. +The cloak they spread under him was wet with blood which stained his +breeches and arm. + +"What, are you wounded, my lad?" said Tushin, approaching the gun on +which Rostov sat. + +"No, it's a sprain." + +"Then what is this blood on the gun carriage?" inquired Tushin. + +"It was the officer, your honor, stained it," answered the +artilleryman, wiping away the blood with his coat sleeve, as if +apologizing for the state of his gun. + +It was all that they could do to get the guns up the rise aided by +the infantry, and having reached the village of Gruntersdorf they +halted. It had grown so dark that one could not distinguish the +uniforms ten paces off, and the firing had begun to subside. Suddenly, +near by on the right, shouting and firing were again heard. Flashes of +shot gleamed in the darkness. This was the last French attack and +was met by soldiers who had sheltered in the village houses. They +all rushed out of the village again, but Tushin's guns could not move, +and the artillerymen, Tushin, and the cadet exchanged silent glances +as they awaited their fate. The firing died down and soldiers, talking +eagerly, streamed out of a side street. + +"Not hurt, Petrov?" asked one. + +"We've given it 'em hot, mate! They won't make another push now," +said another. + +"You couldn't see a thing. How they shot at their own fellows! +Nothing could be seen. Pitch-dark, brother! Isn't there something to +drink?" + +The French had been repulsed for the last time. And again and +again in the complete darkness Tushin's guns moved forward, surrounded +by the humming infantry as by a frame. + +In the darkness, it seemed as though a gloomy unseen river was +flowing always in one direction, humming with whispers and talk and +the sound of hoofs and wheels. Amid the general rumble, the groans and +voices of the wounded were more distinctly heard than any other +sound in the darkness of the night. The gloom that enveloped the +army was filled with their groans, which seemed to melt into one +with the darkness of the night. After a while the moving mass became +agitated, someone rode past on a white horse followed by his suite, +and said something in passing: "What did he say? Where to, now? +Halt, is it? Did he thank us?" came eager questions from all sides. +The whole moving mass began pressing closer together and a report +spread that they were ordered to halt: evidently those in front had +halted. All remained where they were in the middle of the muddy road. + +Fires were lighted and the talk became more audible. Captain Tushin, +having given orders to his company, sent a soldier to find a +dressing station or a doctor for the cadet, and sat down by a +bonfire the soldiers had kindled on the road. Rostov, too, dragged +himself to the fire. From pain, cold, and damp, a feverish shivering +shook his whole body. Drowsiness was irresistibly mastering him, but +he kept awake by an excruciating pain in his arm, for which +he could find no satisfactory position. He kept closing his eyes and +then again looking at the fire, which seemed to him dazzlingly red, +and at the feeble, round-shouldered figure of Tushin who was sitting +cross-legged like a Turk beside him. Tushin's large, kind, intelligent +eyes were fixed with sympathy and commiseration on Rostov, who saw +that Tushin with his whole heart wished to help him but could not. + +From all sides were heard the footsteps and talk of the infantry, +who were walking, driving past, and settling down all around. The +sound of voices, the tramping feet, the horses' hoofs moving in mud, +the crackling of wood fires near and afar, merged into one tremulous +rumble. + +It was no longer, as before, a dark, unseen river flowing through +the gloom, but a dark sea swelling and gradually subsiding after a +storm. Rostov looked at and listened listlessly to what passed +before and around him. An infantryman came to the fire, squatted on +his heels, held his hands to the blaze, and turned away his face. + +"You don't mind your honor?" he asked Tushin. "I've lost my company, +your honor. I don't know where... such bad luck!" + +With the soldier, an infantry officer with a bandaged cheek came +up to the bonfire, and addressing Tushin asked him to have the guns +moved a trifle to let a wagon go past. After he had gone, two soldiers +rushed to the campfire. They were quarreling and fighting desperately, +each trying to snatch from the other a boot they were both holding +on to. + +"You picked it up?... I dare say! You're very smart!" one of them +shouted hoarsely. + +Then a thin, pale soldier, his neck bandaged with a bloodstained leg +band, came up and in angry tones asked the artillerymen for water. + +"Must one die like a dog?" said he. + +Tushin told them to give the man some water. Then a cheerful soldier +ran up, begging a little fire for the infantry. + +"A nice little hot torch for the infantry! Good luck to you, +fellow countrymen. Thanks for the fire--we'll return it with +interest," said he, carrying away into the darkness a glowing stick. + +Next came four soldiers, carrying something heavy on a cloak, and +passed by the fire. One of them stumbled. + +"Who the devil has put the logs on the road?" snarled he. + +"He's dead--why carry him?" said another. + +"Shut up!" + +And they disappeared into the darkness with with their load. + +"Still aching?" Tushin asked Rostov in a whisper. + +"Yes." + +"Your honor, you're wanted by the general. He is in the hut here," +said a gunner, coming up to Tushin. + +"Coming, friend." + +Tushin rose and, buttoning his greatcoat and pulling it straight, +walked away from the fire. + +Not far from the artillery campfire, in a hut that had been prepared +for him, Prince Bagration sat at dinner, talking with some +commanding officers who had gathered at his quarters. The little old +man with the half-closed eyes was there greedily gnawing a mutton +bone, and the general who had served blamelessly for twenty-two years, +flushed by a glass of vodka and the dinner; and the staff officer with +the signet ring, and Zherkov, uneasily glancing at them all, and +Prince Andrew, pale, with compressed lips and feverishly glittering +eyes. + +In a corner of the hut stood a standard captured from the French, +and the accountant with the naive face was feeling its texture, +shaking his head in perplexity--perhaps because the banner really +interested him, perhaps because it was hard for him, hungry as he was, +to look on at a dinner where there was no place for him. In the next +hut there was a French colonel who had been taken prisoner by our +dragoons. Our officers were flocking in to look at him. Prince +Bagration was thanking the individual commanders and inquiring into +details of the action and our losses. The general whose regiment had +been inspected at Braunau was informing the prince that as soon as the +action began he had withdrawn from the wood, mustered the men who were +woodcutting, and, allowing the French to pass him, had made a +bayonet charge with two battalions and had broken up the French +troops. + +"When I saw, your excellency, that their first battalion was +disorganized, I stopped in the road and thought: 'I'll let them come +on and will meet them with the fire of the whole battalion'--and +that's what I did." + +The general had so wished to do this and was so sorry he had not +managed to do it that it seemed to him as if it had really happened. +Perhaps it might really have been so? Could one possibly make out amid +all that confusion what did or did not happen? + +"By the way, your excellency, I should inform you," he continued- +remembering Dolokhov's conversation with Kutuzov and his last +interview with the gentleman-ranker--"that Private Dolokhov, who was +reduced to the ranks, took a French officer prisoner in my presence +and particularly distinguished himself." + +"I saw the Pavlograd hussars attack there, your excellency," +chimed in Zherkov, looking uneasily around. He had not seen the +hussars all that day, but had heard about them from an infantry +officer. "They broke up two squares, your excellency." + +Several of those present smiled at Zherkov's words, expecting one of +his usual jokes, but noticing that what he was saying redounded to the +glory of our arms and of the day's work, they assumed a serious +expression, though many of them knew that what he was saying was a lie +devoid of any foundation. Prince Bagration turned to the old colonel: + +"Gentlemen, I thank you all; all arms have behaved heroically: +infantry, cavalry, and artillery. How was it that two guns were +abandoned in the center?" he inquired, searching with his eyes for +someone. (Prince Bagration did not ask about the guns on the left +flank; he knew that all the guns there had been abandoned at the +very beginning of the action.) "I think I sent you?" he added, turning +to the staff officer on duty. + +"One was damaged," answered the staff officer, "and the other I +can't understand. I was there all the time giving orders and had +only just left.... It is true that it was hot there," he added, +modestly. + +Someone mentioned that Captain Tushin was bivouacking close to the +village and had already been sent for. + +"Oh, but you were there?" said Prince Bagration, addressing Prince +Andrew. + +"Of course, we only just missed one another," said the staff +officer, with a smile to Bolkonski. + +"I had not the pleasure of seeing you," said Prince Andrew, coldly +and abruptly. + +All were silent. Tushin appeared at the threshold and made his way +timidly from behind the backs of the generals. As he stepped past +the generals in the crowded hut, feeling embarrassed as he always +was by the sight of his superiors, he did not notice the staff of +the banner and stumbled over it. Several of those present laughed. + +"How was it a gun was abandoned?" asked Bagration, frowning, not +so much at the captain as at those who were laughing, among whom +Zherkov laughed loudest. + +Only now, when he was confronted by the stern authorities, did his +guilt and the disgrace of having lost two guns and yet remaining alive +present themselves to Tushin in all their horror. He had been so +excited that he had not thought about it until that moment. The +officers' laughter confused him still more. He stood before +Bagration with his lower jaw trembling and was hardly able to +mutter: "I don't know... your excellency... I had no men... your +excellency." + +"You might have taken some from the covering troops." + +Tushin did not say that there were no covering troops, though that +was perfectly true. He was afraid of getting some other officer into +trouble, and silently fixed his eyes on Bagration as a schoolboy who +has blundered looks at an examiner. + +The silence lasted some time. Prince Bagration, apparently not +wishing to be severe, found nothing to say; the others did not venture +to intervene. Prince Andrew looked at Tushin from under his brows +and his fingers twitched nervously. + +"Your excellency!" Prince Andrew broke the silence with his abrupt +voice," you were pleased to send me to Captain Tushin's battery. I +went there and found two thirds of the men and horses knocked out, two +guns smashed, and no supports at all." + +Prince Bagration and Tushin looked with equal intentness at +Bolkonski, who spoke with suppressed agitation. + +"And, if your excellency will allow me to express my opinion," he +continued, "we owe today's success chiefly to the action of that +battery and the heroic endurance of Captain Tushin and his company," +and without awaiting a reply, Prince Andrew rose and left the table. + +Prince Bagration looked at Tushin, evidently reluctant to show +distrust in Bolkonski's emphatic opinion yet not feeling able fully to +credit it, bent his head, and told Tushin that he could go. Prince +Andrew went out with him. + +"Thank you; you saved me, my dear fellow!" said Tushin. + +Prince Andrew gave him a look, but said nothing and went away. He +felt sad and depressed. It was all so strange, so unlike what he had +hoped. + + +"Who are they? Why are they here? What do they want? And when will +all this end?" thought Rostov, looking at the changing shadows +before him. The pain in his arm became more and more intense. +Irresistible drowsiness overpowered him, red rings danced before his +eyes, and the impression of those voices and faces and a sense of +loneliness merged with the physical pain. It was they, these soldiers- +wounded and unwounded--it was they who were crushing, weighing down, +and twisting the sinews and scorching the flesh of his sprained arm +and shoulder. To rid himself of them he closed his eyes. + +For a moment he dozed, but in that short interval innumerable things +appeared to him in a dream: his mother and her large white hand, +Sonya's thin little shoulders, Natasha's eyes and laughter, Denisov +with his voice and mustache, and Telyanin and all that affair with +Telyanin and Bogdanich. That affair was the same thing as this soldier +with the harsh voice, and it was that affair and this soldier that +were so agonizingly, incessantly pulling and pressing his arm and +always dragging it in one direction. He tried to get away from them, +but they would not for an instant let his shoulder move a hair's +breadth. It would not ache--it would be well--if only they did not +pull it, but it was impossible to get rid of them. + +He opened his eyes and looked up. The black canopy of night hung +less than a yard above the glow of the charcoal. Flakes of falling +snow were fluttering in that light. Tushin had not returned, the +doctor had not come. He was alone now, except for a soldier who was +sitting naked at the other side of the fire, warming his thin yellow +body. + +"Nobody wants me!" thought Rostov. "There is no one to help me or +pity me. Yet I was once at home, strong, happy, and loved." He +sighed and, doing so, groaned involuntarily. + +"Eh, is anything hurting you?" asked the soldier, shaking his +shirt out over the fire, and not waiting for an answer he gave a grunt +and added: "What a lot of men have been crippled today--frightful!" + +Rostov did not listen to the soldier. He looked at the snowflakes +fluttering above the fire and remembered a Russian winter at his warm, +bright home, his fluffy fur coat, his quickly gliding sleigh, his +healthy body, and all the affection and care of his family. "And why +did I come here?" he wondered. + +Next day the French army did not renew their attack, and the remnant +of Bagration's detachment was reunited to Kutuzov's army. + + + + +BOOK THREE: 1805 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Prince Vasili was not a man who deliberately thought out his +plans. Still less did he think of injuring anyone for his own +advantage. He was merely a man of the world who had got on and to whom +getting on had become a habit. Schemes and devices for which he +never rightly accounted to himself, but which formed the whole +interest of his life, were constantly shaping themselves in his +mind, arising from the circumstances and persons he met. Of these +plans he had not merely one or two in his head but dozens, some only +beginning to form themselves, some approaching achievement, and some +in course of disintegration. He did not, for instance, say to himself: +"This man now has influence, I must gain his confidence and friendship +and through him obtain a special grant." Nor did he say to himself: +"Pierre is a rich man, I must entice him to marry my daughter and lend +me the forty thousand rubles I need." But when he came across +a man of position his instinct immediately told him that this +man could be useful, and without any premeditation Prince Vasili +took the first opportunity to gain his confidence, flatter him, become +intimate with him, and finally make his request. + +He had Pierre at hand in Moscow and procured for him an +appointment as Gentleman of the Bedchamber, which at that time +conferred the status of Councilor of State, and insisted on the +young man accompanying him to Petersburg and staying at his house. +With apparent absent-mindedness, yet with unhesitating assurance +that he was doing the right thing, Prince Vasili did everything to get +Pierre to marry his daughter. Had he thought out his plans +beforehand he could not have been so natural and shown such unaffected +familiarity in intercourse with everybody both above and below him +in social standing. Something always drew him toward those richer +and more powerful than himself and he had rare skill in seizing the +most opportune moment for making use of people. + +Pierre, on unexpectedly becoming Count Bezukhov and a rich man, felt +himself after his recent loneliness and freedom from cares so beset +and preoccupied that only in bed was he able to be by himself. He +had to sign papers, to present himself at government offices, the +purpose of which was not clear to him, to question his chief +steward, to visit his estate near Moscow, and to receive many people +who formerly did not even wish to know of his existence but would +now have been offended and grieved had he chosen not to see them. +These different people--businessmen, relations, and acquaintances +alike--were all disposed to treat the young heir in the most +friendly and flattering manner: they were all evidently firmly +convinced of Pierre's noble qualities. He was always hearing such +words as: "With your remarkable kindness," or, "With your excellent +heart," "You are yourself so honorable Count," or, "Were he as +clever as you," and so on, till he began sincerely to believe in his +own exceptional kindness and extraordinary intelligence, the more so +as in the depth of his heart it had always seemed to him that he +really was very kind and intelligent. Even people who had formerly +been spiteful toward him and evidently unfriendly now became gentle +and affectionate. The angry eldest princess, with the long waist and +hair plastered down like a doll's, had come into Pierre's room after +the funeral. With drooping eyes and frequent blushes she told him +she was very sorry about their past misunderstandings and did not +now feel she had a right to ask him for anything, except only for +permission, after the blow she had received, to remain for a few weeks +longer in the house she so loved and where she had sacrificed so much. +She could not refrain from weeping at these words. Touched that this +statuesque princess could so change, Pierre took her hand and begged +her forgiveness, without knowing what for. From that day the eldest +princess quite changed toward Pierre and began knitting a striped +scarf for him. + +"Do this for my sake, mon cher; after all, she had to put up with +a great deal from the deceased," said Prince Vasili to him, handing +him a deed to sign for the princess' benefit. + +Prince Vasili had come to the conclusion that it was necessary to +throw this bone--a bill for thirty thousand rubles--to the poor +princess that it might not occur to her to speak of his share in the +affair of the inlaid portfolio. Pierre signed the deed and after +that the princess grew still kinder. The younger sisters also became +affectionate to him, especially the youngest, the pretty one with +the mole, who often made him feel confused by her smiles and her own +confusion when meeting him. + +It seemed so natural to Pierre that everyone should like him, and it +would have seemed so unnatural had anyone disliked him, that he +could not but believe in the sincerity of those around him. Besides, +he had no time to ask himself whether these people were sincere or +not. He was always busy and always felt in a state of mild and +cheerful intoxication. He felt as though he were the center of some +important and general movement; that something was constantly expected +of him, that if he did not do it he would grieve and disappoint many +people, but if he did this and that, all would be well; and he did +what was demanded of him, but still that happy result always +remained in the future. + +More than anyone else, Prince Vasili took possession of Pierre's +affairs and of Pierre himself in those early days. From the death of +Count Bezukhov he did not let go his hold of the lad. He had the air +of a man oppressed by business, weary and suffering, who yet would +not, for pity's sake, leave this helpless youth who, after all, was +the son of his old friend and the possessor of such enormous wealth, +to the caprice of fate and the designs of rogues. During the few +days he spent in Moscow after the death of Count Bezukhov, he would +call Pierre, or go to him himself, and tell him what ought to be +done in a tone of weariness and assurance, as if he were adding +every time: "You know I am overwhelmed with business and it is +purely out of charity that I trouble myself about you, and you also +know quite well that what I propose is the only thing possible." + +"Well, my dear fellow, tomorrow we are off at last," said Prince +Vasili one day, closing his eyes and fingering Pierre's elbow, +speaking as if he were saying something which had long since been +agreed upon and could not now be altered. "We start tomorrow and I'm +giving you a place in my carriage. I am very glad. All our important +business here is now settled, and I ought to have been off long ago. +Here is something I have received from the chancellor. I asked him for +you, and you have been entered in the diplomatic corps and made a +Gentleman of the Bedchamber. The diplomatic career now lies open +before you." + +Notwithstanding the tone of wearied assurance with which these words +were pronounced, Pierre, who had so long been considering his +career, wished to make some suggestion. But Prince Vasili +interrupted him in the special deep cooing tone, precluding the +possibility of interrupting his speech, which he used in extreme cases +when special persuasion was needed. + +"Mais, mon cher, I did this for my own sake, to satisfy my +conscience, and there is nothing to thank me for. No one has ever +complained yet of being too much loved; and besides, you are free, you +could throw it up tomorrow. But you will see everything for yourself +when you get to Petersburg. It is high time for you to get away from +these terrible recollections." Prince Vasili sighed. "Yes, yes, my +boy. And my valet can go in your carriage. Ah! I was nearly +forgetting," he added. "You know, mon cher, your father and I had some +accounts to settle, so I have received what was due from the Ryazan +estate and will keep it; you won't require it. We'll go into the +accounts later." + +By "what was due from the Ryazan estate" Prince Vasili meant several +thousand rubles quitrent received from Pierre's peasants, which the +prince had retained for himself. + +In Petersburg, as in Moscow, Pierre found the same atmosphere of +gentleness and affection. He could not refuse the post, or rather +the rank (for he did nothing), that Prince Vasili had procured for +him, and acquaintances, invitations, and social occupations were so +numerous that, even more than in Moscow, he felt a sense of +bewilderment, bustle, and continual expectation of some good, always +in front of him but never attained. + +Of his former bachelor acquaintances many were no longer in +Petersburg. The Guards had gone to the front; Dolokhov had been +reduced to the ranks; Anatole was in the army somewhere in the +provinces; Prince Andrew was abroad; so Pierre had not the opportunity +to spend his nights as he used to like to spend them, or to open his +mind by intimate talks with a friend older than himself and whom he +respected. His whole time was taken up with dinners and balls and +was spent chiefly at Prince Vasili's house in the company of the stout +princess, his wife, and his beautiful daughter Helene. + +Like the others, Anna Pavlovna Scherer showed Pierre the change of +attitude toward him that had taken place in society. + +Formerly in Anna Pavlovna's presence, Pierre had always felt that +what he was saying was out of place, tactless and unsuitable, that +remarks which seemed to him clever while they formed in his mind +became foolish as soon as he uttered them, while on the contrary +Hippolyte's stupidest remarks came out clever and apt. Now +everything Pierre said was charmant. Even if Anna Pavlovna did not say +so, he could see that she wished to and only refrained out of regard +for his modesty. + +In the beginning of the winter of 1805-6 Pierre received one of Anna +Pavlovna's usual pink notes with an invitation to which was added: +"You will find the beautiful Helene here, whom it is always delightful +to see." + +When he read that sentence, Pierre felt for the first time that some +link which other people recognized had grown up between himself and +Helene, and that thought both alarmed him, as if some obligation +were being imposed on him which he could not fulfill, and pleased +him as an entertaining supposition. + +Anna Pavlovna's "At Home" was like the former one, only the +novelty she offered her guests this time was not Mortemart, but a +diplomatist fresh from Berlin with the very latest details of the +Emperor Alexander's visit to Potsdam, and of how the two august +friends had pledged themselves in an indissoluble alliance to uphold +the cause of justice against the enemy of the human race. Anna +Pavlovna received Pierre with a shade of melancholy, evidently +relating to the young man's recent loss by the death of Count Bezukhov +(everyone constantly considered it a duty to assure Pierre that he was +greatly afflicted by the death of the father he had hardly known), and +her melancholy was just like the august melancholy she showed at the +mention of her most august Majesty the Empress Marya Fedorovna. Pierre +felt flattered by this. Anna Pavlovna arranged the different groups in +her drawing room with her habitual skill. The large group, in which +were Prince Vasili and the generals, had the benefit of the +diplomat. Another group was at the tea table. Pierre wished to join +the former, but Anna Pavlovna--who was in the excited condition of a +commander on a battlefield to whom thousands of new and brilliant +ideas occur which there is hardly time to put in action--seeing +Pierre, touched his sleeve with her finger, saying: + +"Wait a bit, I have something in view for you this evening." (She +glanced at Helene and smiled at her.) "My dear Helene, be charitable +to my poor aunt who adores you. Go and keep her company for ten +minutes. And that it will not be too dull, here is the dear count +who will not refuse to accompany you." + +The beauty went to the aunt, but Anna Pavlovna detained Pierre, +looking as if she had to give some final necessary instructions. + +"Isn't she exquisite?" she said to Pierre, pointing to the stately +beauty as she glided away. "And how she carries herself! For so +young a girl, such tact, such masterly perfection of manner! It +comes from her heart. Happy the man who wins her! With her the least +worldly of men would occupy a most brilliant position in society. +Don't you think so? I only wanted to know your opinion," and Anna +Pavlovna let Pierre go. + +Pierre, in reply, sincerely agreed with her as to Helene's +perfection of manner. If he ever thought of Helene, it was just of her +beauty and her remarkable skill in appearing silently dignified in +society. + +The old aunt received the two young people in her corner, but seemed +desirous of hiding her adoration for Helene and inclined rather to +show her fear of Anna Pavlovna. She looked at her niece, as if +inquiring what she was to do with these people. On leaving them, +Anna Pavlovna again touched Pierre's sleeve, saying: "I hope you won't +say that it is dull in my house again," and she glanced at Helene. + +Helene smiled, with a look implying that she did not admit the +possibility of anyone seeing her without being enchanted. The aunt +coughed, swallowed, and said in French that she was very pleased to +see Helene, then she turned to Pierre with the same words of welcome +and the same look. In the middle of a dull and halting conversation, +Helene turned to Pierre with the beautiful bright smile that she +gave to everyone. Pierre was so used to that smile, and it had so +little meaning for him, that he paid no attention to it. The aunt +was just speaking of a collection of snuffboxes that had belonged to +Pierre's father, Count Bezukhov, and showed them her own box. Princess +Helene asked to see the portrait of the aunt's husband on the box lid. + +"That is probably the work of Vinesse," said Pierre, mentioning a +celebrated miniaturist, and he leaned over the table to take the +snuffbox while trying to hear what was being said at the other table. + +He half rose, meaning to go round, but the aunt handed him the +snuffbox, passing it across Helene's back. Helene stooped forward to +make room, and looked round with a smile. She was, as always at +evening parties, wearing a dress such as was then fashionable, cut +very low at front and back. Her bust, which had always seemed like +marble to Pierre, was so close to him that his shortsighted eyes could +not but perceive the living charm of her neck and shoulders, so near +to his lips that he need only have bent his head a little to have +touched them. He was conscious of the warmth of her body, the scent of +perfume, and the creaking of her corset as she moved. He did not see +her marble beauty forming a complete whole with her dress, but all the +charm of her body only covered by her garments. And having once seen +this he could not help being aware it, just as we cannot renew an +illusion we have once seen through. + +"So you have never noticed before how beautiful I am?" Helene seemed +to say. "You had not noticed that I am a woman? Yes, I am a woman +who may belong to anyone--to you too," said her glance. And at that +moment Pierre felt that Helene not only could, but must, be his +wife, and that it could not be otherwise. + +He knew this at that moment as surely as if he had been standing +at the altar with her. How and when this would be he did not know, +he did not even know if it would be a good thing (he even felt, he +knew not why, that it would be a bad thing), but he knew it would +happen. + +Pierre dropped his eyes, lifted them again, and wished once more +to see her as a distant beauty far removed from him, as he had seen +her every day until then, but he could no longer do it. He could +not, any more than a man who has been looking at a tuft of steppe +grass through the mist and taking it for a tree can again take it +for a tree after he has once recognized it to be a tuft of grass. +She was terribly close to him. She already had power over him, and +between them there was no longer any barrier except the barrier of his +own will. + +"Well, I will leave you in your little corner," came Anna Pavlovna's +voice, "I see you are all right there." + +And Pierre, anxiously trying to remember whether he had done +anything reprehensible, looked round with a blush. It seemed to him +that everyone knew what had happened to him as he knew it himself. + +A little later when he went up to the large circle, Anna Pavlovna +said to him: "I hear you are refitting your Petersburg house?" + +This was true. The architect had told him that it was necessary, and +Pierre, without knowing why, was having his enormous Petersburg +house done up. + +"That's a good thing, but don't move from Prince Vasili's. It is +good to have a friend like the prince," she said, smiling at Prince +Vasili. "I know something about that. Don't I? And you are still so +young. You need advice. Don't be angry with me for exercising an old +woman's privilege." + +She paused, as women always do, expecting something after they +have mentioned their age. "If you marry it will be a different thing," +she continued, uniting them both in one glance. Pierre did not look at +Helene nor she at him. But she was just as terribly close to him. He +muttered something and colored. + +When he got home he could not sleep for a long time for thinking +of what had happened. What had happened? Nothing. He had merely +understood that the woman he had known as a child, of whom when her +beauty was mentioned he had said absent-mindedly: "Yes, she's good +looking," he had understood that this woman might belong to him. + +"But she's stupid. I have myself said she is stupid," he thought. +"There is something nasty, something wrong, in the feeling she excites +in me. I have been told that her brother Anatole was in love with +her and she with him, that there was quite a scandal and that that's +why he was sent away. Hippolyte is her brother... Prince Vasili is her +father... It's bad...." he reflected, but while he was thinking this +(the reflection was still incomplete), he caught himself smiling and +was conscious that another line of thought had sprung up, and while +thinking of her worthlessness he was also dreaming of how she would be +his wife, how she would love him become quite different, and how all +he had thought and heard of her might be false. And he again saw her +not as the daughter of Prince Vasili, but visualized her whole body +only veiled by its gray dress. "But no! Why did this thought never +occur to me before?" and again he told himself that it was impossible, +that there would be something unnatural, and as it seemed to him +dishonorable, in this marriage. He recalled her former words and looks +and the words and looks of those who had seen them together. He +recalled Anna Pavlovna's words and looks when she spoke to him about +his house, recalled thousands of such hints from Prince Vasili and +others, and was seized by terror lest he had already, in some way, +bound himself to do something that was evidently wrong and that he +ought not to do. But at the very time he was expressing this +conviction to himself, in another part of his mind her image rose in +all its womanly beauty. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + +In November, 1805, Prince Vasili had to go on a tour of inspection +in four different provinces. He had arranged this for himself so as to +visit his neglected estates at the same time and pick up his son +Anatole where his regiment was stationed, and take him to visit Prince +Nicholas Bolkonski in order to arrange a match for him with the +daughter of that rich old man. But before leaving home and undertaking +these new affairs, Prince Vasili had to settle matters with Pierre, +who, it is true, had latterly spent whole days at home, that is, in +Prince Vasili's house where he was staying, and had been absurd, +excited, and foolish in Helene's presence (as a lover should be), +but had not yet proposed to her. + +"This is all very fine, but things must be settled," said Prince +Vasili to himself, with a sorrowful sigh, one morning, feeling that +Pierre who was under such obligations to him ("But never mind that") +was not behaving very well in this matter. "Youth, frivolity... +well, God be with him," thought he, relishing his own goodness of +heart, "but it must be brought to a head. The day after tomorrow +will be Lelya's name day. I will invite two or three people, and if he +does not understand what he ought to do then it will be my affair- +yes, my affair. I am her father." + +Six weeks after Anna Pavlovna's "At Home" and after the sleepless +night when he had decided that to marry Helene would be a calamity and +that he ought to avoid her and go away, Pierre, despite that decision, +had not left Prince Vasili's and felt with terror that in people's +eyes he was every day more and more connected with her, that it was +impossible for him to return to his former conception of her, that +he could not break away from her, and that though it would be a +terrible thing he would have to unite his fate with hers. He might +perhaps have been able to free himself but that Prince Vasili (who had +rarely before given receptions) now hardly let a day go by without +having an evening party at which Pierre had to be present unless he +wished to spoil the general pleasure and disappoint everyone's +expectation. Prince Vasili, in the rare moments when he was at home, +would take Pierre's hand in passing and draw it downwards, or +absent-mindedly hold out his wrinkled, clean-shaven cheek for Pierre +to kiss and would say: "Till tomorrow," or, "Be in to dinner or I +shall not see you," or, "I am staying in for your sake," and so on. +And though Prince Vasili, when he stayed in (as he said) for +Pierre's sake, hardly exchanged a couple of words with him, Pierre +felt unable to disappoint him. Every day he said to himself one and +the same thing: "It is time I understood her and made up my mind +what she really is. Was I mistaken before, or am I mistaken now? No, +she is not stupid, she is an excellent girl," he sometimes said to +himself "she never makes a mistake, never says anything stupid. She +says little, but what she does say is always clear and simple, so +she is not stupid. She never was abashed and is not abashed now, so +she cannot be a bad woman!" He had often begun to make reflections +or think aloud in her company, and she had always answered him +either by a brief but appropriate remark--showing that it did not +interest her--or by a silent look and smile which more palpably than +anything else showed Pierre her superiority. She was right in +regarding all arguments as nonsense in comparison with that smile. + +She always addressed him with a radiantly confiding smile meant +for him alone, in which there was something more significant than in +the general smile that usually brightened her face. Pierre knew that +everyone was waiting for him to say a word and cross a certain line, +and he knew that sooner or later he would step across it, but an +incomprehensible terror seized him at the thought of that dreadful +step. A thousand times during that month and a half while he felt +himself drawn nearer and nearer to that dreadful abyss, Pierre said to +himself: "What am I doing? I need resolution. Can it be that I have +none?" + +He wished to take a decision, but felt with dismay that in this +matter he lacked that strength of will which he had known in himself +and really possessed. Pierre was one of those who are only strong when +they feel themselves quite innocent, and since that day when he was +overpowered by a feeling of desire while stooping over the snuffbox at +Anna Pavlovna's, an unacknowledged sense of the guilt of that desire +paralyzed his will. + +On Helene's name day, a small party of just their own people--as his +wife said--met for supper at Prince Vasili's. All these friends and +relations had been given to understand that the fate of the young girl +would be decided that evening. The visitors were seated at supper. +Princess Kuragina, a portly imposing woman who had once been handsome, +was sitting at the head of the table. On either side of her sat the +more important guests--an old general and his wife, and Anna +Pavlovna Scherer. At the other end sat the younger and less +important guests, and there too sat the members of the family, and +Pierre and Helene, side by side. Prince Vasili was not having any +supper: he went round the table in a merry mood, sitting down now by +one, now by another, of the guests. To each of them he made some +careless and agreeable remark except to Pierre and Helene, whose +presence he seemed not to notice. He enlivened the whole party. The +wax candles burned brightly, the silver and crystal gleamed, so did +the ladies' toilets and the gold and silver of the men's epaulets; +servants in scarlet liveries moved round the table, the clatter of +plates, knives, and glasses mingled with the animated hum of several +conversations. At one end of the table, the old chamberlain was +heard assuring an old baroness that he loved her passionately, at +which she laughed; at the other could be heard the story of the +misfortunes of some Mary Viktorovna or other. At the center of the +table, Prince Vasili attracted everybody's attention. With a facetious +smile on his face, he was telling the ladies about last Wednesday's +meeting of the Imperial Council, at which Sergey Kuzmich +Vyazmitinov, the new military governor general of Petersburg, had +received and read the then famous rescript of the Emperor Alexander +from the army to Sergey Kuzmich, in which the Emperor said that he was +receiving from all sides declarations of the people's loyalty, that +the declaration from Petersburg gave him particular pleasure, and that +he was proud to be at the head of such a nation and would endeavor +to be worthy of it. This rescript began with the words: "Sergey +Kuzmich, From all sides reports reach me," etc. + +"Well, and so he never got farther than: 'Sergey Kuzmich'?" asked +one of the ladies. + +"Exactly, not a hair's breadth farther," answered Prince Vasili, +laughing, "'Sergey Kuzmich... From all sides... From all sides... +Sergey Kuzmich...' Poor Vyazmitinov could not get any farther! He +began the rescript again and again, but as soon as he uttered 'Sergey' +he sobbed, 'Kuz-mi-ch,' tears, and 'From all sides' was smothered in +sobs and he could get no farther. And again his handkerchief, and +again: 'Sergey Kuzmich, From all sides,'... and tears, till at last +somebody else was asked to read it." + +"Kuzmich... From all sides... and then tears," someone repeated +laughing. + +"Don't be unkind," cried Anna Pavlovna from her end of the table +holding up a threatening finger. "He is such a worthy and excellent +man, our dear Vyazmitinov...." + +Everybody laughed a great deal. At the head of the table, where +the honored guests sat, everyone seemed to be in high spirits and +under the influence of a variety of exciting sensations. Only Pierre +and Helene sat silently side by side almost at the bottom of the +table, a suppressed smile brightening both their faces, a smile that +had nothing to do with Sergey Kuzmich--a smile of bashfulness at their +own feelings. But much as all the rest laughed, talked, and joked, +much as they enjoyed their Rhine wine, saute, and ices, and however +they avoided looking at the young couple, and heedless and unobservant +as they seemed of them, one could feel by the occasional glances +they gave that the story about Sergey Kuzmich, the laughter, and the +food were all a pretense, and that the whole attention of that company +was directed to--Pierre and Helene. Prince Vasili mimicked the sobbing +of Sergey Kuzmich and at the same time his eyes glanced toward his +daughter, and while he laughed the expression on his face clearly +said: "Yes... it's getting on, it will all be settled today." Anna +Pavlovna threatened him on behalf of "our dear Vyazmitinov," and in +her eyes, which, for an instant, glanced at Pierre, Prince Vasili read +a congratulation on his future son-in-law and on his daughter's +happiness. The old princess sighed sadly as she offered some wine to +the old lady next to her and glanced angrily at her daughter, and +her sigh seemed to say: "Yes, there's nothing left for you and me +but to sip sweet wine, my dear, now that the time has come for these +young ones to be thus boldly, provocatively happy." "And what nonsense +all this is that I am saying!" thought a diplomatist, glancing at +the happy faces of the lovers. "That's happiness!" + +Into the insignificant, trifling, and artificial interests uniting +that society had entered the simple feeling of the attraction of a +healthy and handsome young man and woman for one another. And this +human feeling dominated everything else and soared above all their +affected chatter. Jests fell flat, news was not interesting, and the +animation was evidently forced. Not only the guests but even the +footmen waiting at table seemed to feel this, and they forgot their +duties as they looked at the beautiful Helene with her radiant face +and at the red, broad, and happy though uneasy face of Pierre. It +seemed as if the very light of the candles was focused on those two +happy faces alone. + +Pierre felt that he was the center of it all, and this both pleased +and embarrassed him. He was like a man entirely absorbed in some +occupation. He did not see, hear, or understand anything clearly. Only +now and then detached ideas and impressions from the world of +reality shot unexpectedly through his mind. + +"So it is all finished!" he thought. "And how has it all happened? +How quickly! Now I know that not because of her alone, nor of myself +alone, but because of everyone, it must inevitably come about. They +are all expecting it, they are so sure that it will happen that I +cannot, I cannot, disappoint them. But how will it be? I do not +know, but it will certainly happen!" thought Pierre, glancing at those +dazzling shoulders close to his eyes. + +Or he would suddenly feel ashamed of he knew not what. He felt it +awkward to attract everyone's attention and to be considered a lucky +man and, with his plain face, to be looked on as a sort of Paris +possessed of a Helen. "But no doubt it always is and must be so!" he +consoled himself. "And besides, what have I done to bring it about? +How did it begin? I traveled from Moscow with Prince Vasili. Then +there was nothing. So why should I not stay at his house? Then I +played cards with her and picked up her reticule and drove out with +her. How did it begin, when did it all come about?" And here he was +sitting by her side as her betrothed, seeing, hearing, feeling her +nearness, her breathing, her movements, her beauty. Then it would +suddenly seem to him that it was not she but he was so unusually +beautiful, and that that was why they all looked so at him, and +flattered by this general admiration he would expand his chest, +raise his head, and rejoice at his good fortune. Suddenly he heard a +familiar voice repeating something to him a second time. But Pierre +was so absorbed that he did not understand what was said. + +"I am asking you when you last heard from Bolkonski," repeated +Prince Vasili a third time. "How absent-minded you are, my dear +fellow." + +Prince Vasili smiled, and Pierre noticed that everyone was smiling +at him and Helene. "Well, what of it, if you all know it?" thought +Pierre. "What of it? It's the truth!" and he himself smiled his gentle +childlike smile, and Helene smiled too. + +"When did you get the letter? Was it from Olmutz?" repeated Prince +Vasili, who pretended to want to know this in order to settle a +dispute. + +"How can one talk or think of such trifles?" thought Pierre. + +"Yes, from Olmutz," he answered, with a sigh. + +After supper Pierre with his partner followed the others into the +drawing room. The guests began to disperse, some without taking +leave of Helene. Some, as if unwilling to distract her from an +important occupation, came up to her for a moment and made haste to go +away, refusing to let her see them off. The diplomatist preserved a +mournful silence as he left the drawing room. He pictured the vanity +of his diplomatic career in comparison with Pierre's happiness. The +old general grumbled at his wife when she asked how his leg was. +"Oh, the old fool," he thought. "That Princess Helene will be +beautiful still when she's fifty." + +"I think I may congratulate you," whispered Anna Pavlovna to the old +princess, kissing her soundly. "If I hadn't this headache I'd have +stayed longer." + +The old princess did not reply, she was tormented by jealousy of her +daughter's happiness. + +While the guests were taking their leave Pierre remained for a +long time alone with Helene in the little drawing room where they were +sitting. He had often before, during the last six weeks, remained +alone with her, but had never spoken to her of love. Now he felt +that it was inevitable, but he could not make up his mind to take +the final step. He felt ashamed; he felt that he was occupying someone +else's place here beside Helene. "This happiness is not for you," some +inner voice whispered to him. "This happiness is for those who have +not in them what there is in you." + +But, as he had to say something, he began by asking her whether +she was satisfied with the party. She replied in her usual simple +manner that this name day of hers had been one of the pleasantest +she had ever had. + +Some of the nearest relatives had not yet left. They were sitting in +the large drawing room. Prince Vasili came up to Pierre with languid +footsteps. Pierre rose and said it was getting late. Prince Vasili +gave him a look of stern inquiry, as though what Pierre had just +said was so strange that one could not take it in. But then the +expression of severity changed, and he drew Pierre's hand downwards, +made him sit down, and smiled affectionately. + +"Well, Lelya?" he asked, turning instantly to his daughter and +addressing her with the careless tone of habitual tenderness natural +to parents who have petted their children from babyhood, but which +Prince Vasili had only acquired by imitating other parents. + +And he again turned to Pierre. + +"Sergey Kuzmich--From all sides-" he said, unbuttoning the top +button of his waistcoat. + +Pierre smiled, but his smile showed that he knew it was not the +story about Sergey Kuzmich that interested Prince Vasili just then, +and Prince Vasili saw that Pierre knew this. He suddenly muttered +something and went away. It seemed to Pierre that even the prince +was disconcerted. The sight of the discomposure of that old man of the +world touched Pierre: he looked at Helene and she too seemed +disconcerted, and her look seemed to say: "Well, it is your own +fault." + +"The step must be taken but I cannot, I cannot!" thought Pierre, and +he again began speaking about indifferent matters, about Sergey +Kuzmich, asking what the point of the story was as he had not heard it +properly. Helene answered with a smile that she too had missed it. + +When Prince Vasili returned to the drawing room, the princess, his +wife, was talking in low tones to the elderly lady about Pierre. + +"Of course, it is a very brilliant match, but happiness, my dear..." + +"Marriages are made in heaven," replied the elderly lady. + +Prince Vasili passed by, seeming not to hear the ladies, and sat +down on a sofa in a far corner of the room. He closed his eyes and +seemed to be dozing. His head sank forward and then he roused himself. + +"Aline," he said to his wife, "go and see what they are about." + +The princess went up to the door, passed by it with a dignified +and indifferent air, and glanced into the little drawing room. +Pierre and Helene still sat talking just as before. + +"Still the same," she said to her husband. + +Prince Vasili frowned, twisting his mouth, his cheeks quivered and +his face assumed the coarse, unpleasant expression peculiar to him. +Shaking himself, he rose, threw back his head, and with resolute steps +went past the ladies into the little drawing room. With quick steps he +went joyfully up to Pierre. His face was so unusually triumphant +that Pierre rose in alarm on seeing it. + +"Thank God!" said Prince Vasili. "My wife has told me everything!" +(He put one arm around Pierre and the other around his daughter.)--"My +dear boy... Lelya... I am very pleased." (His voice trembled.) "I +loved your father... and she will make you a good wife... God bless +you!..." + +He embraced his daughter, and then again Pierre, and kissed him with +his malodorous mouth. Tears actually moistened his cheeks. + +"Princess, come here!" he shouted. + +The old princess came in and also wept. The elderly lady was using +her handkerchief too. Pierre was kissed, and he kissed the beautiful +Helene's hand several times. After a while they were left alone again. + +"All this had to be and could not be otherwise," thought Pierre, "so +it is useless to ask whether it is good or bad. It is good because +it's definite and one is rid of the old tormenting doubt." Pierre held +the hand of his betrothed in silence, looking at her beautiful bosom +as it rose and fell. + +"Helene!" he said aloud and paused. + +"Something special is always said in such cases," he thought, but +could not remember what it was that people say. He looked at her face. +She drew nearer to him. Her face flushed. + +"Oh, take those off... those..." she said, pointing to his +spectacles. + +Pierre took them off, and his eyes, besides the strange look eyes +have from which spectacles have just been removed, had also a +frightened and inquiring look. He was about to stoop over her hand and +kiss it, but with a rapid, almost brutal movement of her head, she +intercepted his lips and met them with her own. Her face struck +Pierre, by its altered, unpleasantly excited expression. + +"It is too late now, it's done; besides I love her," thought Pierre. + +"Je vous aime!"* he said, remembering what has to be said at such +moments: but his words sounded so weak that he felt ashamed of +himself. + + +*"I love you." + + +Six weeks later he was married, and settled in Count Bezukhov's +large, newly furnished Petersburg house, the happy possessor, as +people said, of a wife who was a celebrated beauty and of millions +of money. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Old Prince Nicholas Bolkonski received a letter from Prince Vasili +in November, 1805, announcing that he and his son would be paying +him a visit. "I am starting on a journey of inspection, and of +course I shall think nothing of an extra seventy miles to come and see +you at the same time, my honored benefactor," wrote Prince Vasili. "My +son Anatole is accompanying me on his way to the army, so I hope you +will allow him personally to express the deep respect that, +emulating his father, he feels for you." + +"It seems that there will be no need to bring Mary out, suitors +are coming to us of their own accord," incautiously remarked the +little princess on hearing the news. + +Prince Nicholas frowned, but said nothing. + +A fortnight after the letter Prince Vasili's servants came one +evening in advance of him, and he and his son arrived next day. + +Old Bolkonski had always had a poor opinion of Prince Vasili's +character, but more so recently, since in the new reigns of Paul and +Alexander Prince Vasili had risen to high position and honors. And +now, from the hints contained in his letter and given by the little +princess, he saw which way the wind was blowing, and his low opinion +changed into a feeling of contemptuous ill will. He snorted whenever +he mentioned him. On the day of Prince Vasili's arrival, Prince +Bolkonski was particularly discontented and out of temper. Whether +he was in a bad temper because Prince Vasili was coming, or whether +his being in a bad temper made him specially annoyed at Prince +Vasili's visit, he was in a bad temper, and in the morning Tikhon +had already advised the architect not to go to the prince with his +report. + +"Do you hear how he's walking?" said Tikhon, drawing the architect's +attention to the sound of the prince's footsteps. "Stepping flat on +his heels--we know what that means...." + +However, at nine o'clock the prince, in his velvet coat with a sable +collar and cap, went out for his usual walk. It had snowed the day +before and the path to the hothouse, along which the prince was in the +habit of walking, had been swept: the marks of the broom were still +visible in the snow and a shovel had been left sticking in one of +the soft snowbanks that bordered both sides of the path. The prince +went through the conservatories, the serfs' quarters, and the +outbuildings, frowning and silent. + +"Can a sleigh pass?" he asked his overseer, a venerable man, +resembling his master in manners and looks, who was accompanying him +back to the house. + +"The snow is deep. I am having the avenue swept, your honor." + +The prince bowed his head and went up to the porch. "God be +thanked," thought the overseer, "the storm has blown over!" + +"It would have been hard to drive up, your honor," he added. "I +heard, your honor, that a minister is coming to visit your honor." + +The prince turned round to the overseer and fixed his eyes on him, +frowning. + +"What? A minister? What minister? Who gave orders?" he said in his +shrill, harsh voice. "The road is not swept for the princess my +daughter, but for a minister! For me, there are no ministers!" + +"Your honor, I thought..." + +"You thought!" shouted the prince, his words coming more and more +rapidly and indistinctly. "You thought!... Rascals! Blackgaurds!... +I'll teach you to think!" and lifting his stick he swung it and +would have hit Alpatych, the overseer, had not the latter +instinctively avoided the blow. "Thought... Blackguards..." shouted +the prince rapidly. + +But although Alpatych, frightened at his own temerity in avoiding +the stroke, came up to the prince, bowing his bald head resignedly +before him, or perhaps for that very reason, the prince, though he +continued to shout: "Blackgaurds!... Throw the snow back on the road!" +did not lift his stick again but hurried into the house. + +Before dinner, Princess Mary and Mademoiselle Bourienne, who knew +that the prince was in a bad humor, stood awaiting him; Mademoiselle +Bourienne with a radiant face that said: "I know nothing, I am the +same as usual," and Princess Mary pale, frightened, and with +downcast eyes. What she found hardest to bear was to know that on such +occasions she ought to behave like Mademoiselle Bourienne, but could +not. She thought: "If I seem not to notice he will think that I do not +sympathize with him; if I seem sad and out of spirits myself, he +will say (as he has done before) that I'm in the dumps." + +The prince looked at his daughter's frightened face and snorted. + +"Fool... or dummy!" he muttered. + +"And the other one is not here. They've been telling tales," he +thought--referring to the little princess who was not in the dining +room. + +"Where is the princess?" he asked. "Hiding?" + +"She is not very well," answered Mademoiselle Bourienne with a +bright smile, "so she won't come down. It is natural in her state." + +"Hm! Hm!" muttered the prince, sitting down. + +His plate seemed to him not quite clean, and pointing to a spot he +flung it away. Tikhon caught it and handed it to a footman. The little +princess was not unwell, but had such an overpowering fear of the +prince that, hearing he was in a bad humor, she had decided not to +appear. + +"I am afraid for the baby," she said to Mademoiselle Bourienne: +"Heaven knows what a fright might do." + +In general at Bald Hills the little princess lived in constant fear, +and with a sense of antipathy to the old prince which she did not +realize because the fear was so much the stronger feeling. The +prince reciprocated this antipathy, but it was overpowered by his +contempt for her. When the little princess had grown accustomed to +life at Bald Hills, she took a special fancy to Mademoiselle +Bourienne, spent whole days with her, asked her to sleep in her +room, and often talked with her about the old prince and criticized +him. + +"So we are to have visitors, mon prince?" remarked Mademoiselle +Bourienne, unfolding her white napkin with her rosy fingers. "His +Excellency Prince Vasili Kuragin and his son, I understand?" she +said inquiringly. + +"Hm!--his excellency is a puppy.... I got him his appointment in the +service," said the prince disdainfully. "Why his son is coming I don't +understand. Perhaps Princess Elizabeth and Princess Mary know. I don't +want him." (He looked at his blushing daughter.) "Are you unwell +today? Eh? Afraid of the 'minister' as that idiot Alpatych called +him this morning?" + +"No, mon pere." + +Though Mademoiselle Bourienne had been so unsuccessful in her choice +of a subject, she did not stop talking, but chattered about the +conservatories and the beauty of a flower that had just opened, and +after the soup the prince became more genial. + +After dinner, he went to see his daughter-in-law. The little +princess was sitting at a small table, chattering with Masha, her +maid. She grew pale on seeing her father-in-law. + +She was much altered. She was now plain rather than pretty. Her +cheeks had sunk, her lip was drawn up, and her eyes drawn down. + +"Yes, I feel a kind of oppression," she said in reply to the +prince's question as to how she felt. + +"Do you want anything?" + +"No, merci, mon pere." + +"Well, all right, all right." + +He left the room and went to the waiting room where Alpatych stood +with bowed head. + +"Has the snow been shoveled back?" + +"Yes, your excellency. Forgive me for heaven's sake... It was only +my stupidity." + +"All right, all right," interrupted the prince, and laughing his +unnatural way, he stretched out his hand for Alpatych to kiss, and +then proceeded to his study. + +Prince Vasili arrived that evening. He was met in the avenue by +coachmen and footmen, who, with loud shouts, dragged his sleighs up to +one of the lodges over the road purposely laden with snow. + +Prince Vasili and Anatole had separate rooms assigned to them. + +Anatole, having taken off his overcoat, sat with arms akimbo +before a table on a corner of which he smilingly and absent-mindedly +fixed his large and handsome eyes. He regarded his whole life as a +continual round of amusement which someone for some reason had to +provide for him. And he looked on this visit to a churlish old man and +a rich and ugly heiress in the same way. All this might, he thought, +turn out very well and amusingly. "And why not marry her if she really +has so much money? That never does any harm," thought Anatole. + +He shaved and scented himself with the care and elegance which had +become habitual to him and, his handsome head held high, entered his +father's room with the good-humored and victorious air natural to him. +Prince Vasili's two valets were busy dressing him, and he looked round +with much animation and cheerfully nodded to his son as the latter +entered, as if to say: "Yes, that's how I want you to look." + +"I say, Father, joking apart, is she very hideous?" Anatole asked, +as if continuing a conversation the subject of which had often been +mentioned during the journey. + +"Enough! What nonsense! Above all, try to be respectful and cautious +with the old prince." + +"If he starts a row I'll go away," said Prince Anatole. "I can't +bear those old men! Eh?" + +"Remember, for you everything depends on this." + +In the meantime, not only was it known in the maidservants' rooms +that the minister and his son had arrived, but the appearance of +both had been minutely described. Princess Mary was sitting alone in +her room, vainly trying to master her agitation. + +"Why did they write, why did Lise tell me about it? It can never +happen!" she said, looking at herself in the glass. "How shall I enter +the drawing room? Even if I like him I can't now be myself with +him." The mere thought of her father's look filled her with terror. +The little princess and Mademoiselle Bourienne had already received +from Masha, the lady's maid, the necessary report of how handsome +the minister's son was, with his rosy cheeks and dark eyebrows, and +with what difficulty the father had dragged his legs upstairs while +the son had followed him like an eagle, three steps at a time. +Having received this information, the little princess and Mademoiselle +Bourienne, whose chattering voices had reached her from the +corridor, went into Princess Mary's room. + +"You know they've come, Marie?" said the little princess, waddling +in, and sinking heavily into an armchair. + +She was no longer in the loose gown she generally wore in the +morning, but had on one of her best dresses. Her hair was carefully +done and her face was animated, which, however, did not conceal its +sunken and faded outlines. Dressed as she used to be in Petersburg +society, it was still more noticeable how much plainer she had become. +Some unobtrusive touch had been added to Mademoiselle Bourienne's +toilet which rendered her fresh and pretty face yet more attractive. + +"What! Are you going to remain as you are, dear princess?" she +began. "They'll be announcing that the gentlemen are in the drawing +room and we shall have to go down, and you have not smartened yourself +up at all!" + +The little princess got up, rang for the maid, and hurriedly and +merrily began to devise and carry out a plan of how Princess Mary +should be dressed. Princess Mary's self-esteem was wounded by the fact +that the arrival of a suitor agitated her, and still more so by both +her companions' not having the least conception that it could be +otherwise. To tell them that she felt ashamed for herself and for them +would be to betray her agitation, while to decline their offers to +dress her would prolong their banter and insistence. She flushed, +her beautiful eyes grew dim, red blotches came on her face, and it +took on the unattractive martyrlike expression it so often wore, as +she submitted herself to Mademoiselle Bourienne and Lise. Both these +women quite sincerely tried to make her look pretty. She was so +plain that neither of them could think of her as a rival, so they +began dressing her with perfect sincerity, and with the naive and firm +conviction women have that dress can make a face pretty. + +"No really, my dear, this dress is not pretty," said Lise, looking +sideways at Princess Mary from a little distance. "You have a maroon +dress, have it fetched. Really! You know the fate of your whole life +may be at stake. But this one is too light, it's not becoming!" + +It was not the dress, but the face and whole figure of Princess Mary +that was not pretty, but neither Mademoiselle Bourienne nor the little +princess felt this; they still thought that if a blue ribbon were +placed in the hair, the hair combed up, and the blue scarf arranged +lower on the best maroon dress, and so on, all would be well. They +forgot that the frightened face and the figure could not be altered, +and that however they might change the setting and adornment of that +face, it would still remain piteous and plain. After two or three +changes to which Princess Mary meekly submitted, just as her hair +had been arranged on the top of her head (a style that quite altered +and spoiled her looks) and she had put on a maroon dress with a +pale-blue scarf, the little princess walked twice round her, now +adjusting a fold of the dress with her little hand, now arranging +the scarf and looking at her with her head bent first on one side +and then on the other. + +"No, it will not do," she said decidedly, clasping her hands. "No, +Mary, really this dress does not suit you. I prefer you in your little +gray everyday dress. Now please, do it for my sake. Katie," she said +to the maid, "bring the princess her gray dress, and you'll see, +Mademoiselle Bourienne, how I shall arrange it," she added, smiling +with a foretaste of artistic pleasure. + +But when Katie brought the required dress, Princess Mary remained +sitting motionless before the glass, looking at her face, and saw in +the mirror her eyes full of tears and her mouth quivering, ready to +burst into sobs. + +"Come, dear princess," said Mademoiselle Bourienne, "just one more +little effort." + +The little princess, taking the dress from the maid, came up to +Princess Mary. + +"Well, now we'll arrange something quite simple and becoming," she +said. + +The three voices, hers, Mademoiselle Bourienne's, and Katie's, who +was laughing at something, mingled in a merry sound, like the chirping +of birds. + +"No, leave me alone," said Princess Mary. + +Her voice sounded so serious and so sad that the chirping of the +birds was silenced at once. They looked at the beautiful, large, +thoughtful eyes full of tears and of thoughts, gazing shiningly and +imploringly at them, and understood that it was useless and even cruel +to insist. + +"At least, change your coiffure," said the little princess. +"Didn't I tell you," she went on, turning reproachfully to +Mademoiselle Bourienne, "Mary's is a face which such a coiffure does +not suit in the least. Not in the least! Please change it." + +"Leave me alone, please leave me alone! It is all quite the same +to me," answered a voice struggling with tears. + +Mademoiselle Bourienne and the little princess had to own to +themselves that Princess Mary in this guise looked very plain, worse +than usual, but it was too late. She was looking at them with an +expression they both knew, an expression thoughtful and sad. This +expression in Princess Mary did not frighten them (she never +inspired fear in anyone), but they knew that when it appeared on her +face, she became mute and was not to be shaken in her determination. + +"You will change it, won't you?" said Lise. And as Princess Mary +gave no answer, she left the room. + +Princess Mary was left alone. She did not comply with Lise's +request, she not only left her hair as it was, but did not even look +in her glass. Letting her arms fall helplessly, she sat with +downcast eyes and pondered. A husband, a man, a strong dominant and +strangely attractive being rose in her imagination, and carried her +into a totally different happy world of his own. She fancied a +child, her own--such as she had seen the day before in the arms of her +nurse's daughter--at her own breast, the husband standing by and +gazing tenderly at her and the child. "But no, it is impossible, I +am too ugly," she thought. + +"Please come to tea. The prince will be out in a moment," came the +maid's voice at the door. + +She roused herself, and felt appalled at what she had been thinking, +and before going down she went into the room where the icons hung and, +her eyes fixed on the dark face of a large icon of the Saviour lit +by a lamp, she stood before it with folded hands for a few moments. +A painful doubt filled her soul. Could the joy of love, of earthly +love for a man, be for her? In her thoughts of marriage Princess +Mary dreamed of happiness and of children, but her strongest, most +deeply hidden longing was for earthly love. The more she tried to hide +this feeling from others and even from herself, the stronger it +grew. "O God," she said, "how am I to stifle in my heart these +temptations of the devil? How am I to renounce forever these vile +fancies, so as peacefully to fulfill Thy will?" And scarcely had she +put that question than God gave her the answer in her own heart. +"Desire nothing for thyself, seek nothing, be not anxious or +envious. Man's future and thy own fate must remain hidden from thee, +but live so that thou mayest be ready for anything. If it be God's +will to prove thee in the duties of marriage, be ready to fulfill +His will." With this consoling thought (but yet with a hope for the +fulfillment of her forbidden earthly longing) Princess Mary sighed, +and having crossed herself went down, thinking neither of her gown and +coiffure nor of how she would go in nor of what she would say. What +could all that matter in comparison with the will of God, without +Whose care not a hair of man's head can fall? + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +When Princess Mary came down, Prince Vasili and his son were already +in the drawing room, talking to the little princess and Mademoiselle +Bourienne. When she entered with her heavy step, treading on her +heels, the gentlemen and Mademoiselle Bourienne rose and the little +princess, indicating her to the gentlemen, said: "Voila Marie!" +Princess Mary saw them all and saw them in detail. She saw Prince +Vasili's face, serious for an instant at the sight of her, but +immediately smiling again, and the little princess curiously noting +the impression "Marie" produced on the visitors. And she saw +Mademoiselle Bourienne, with her ribbon and pretty face, and her +unusually animated look which was fixed on him, but him she could +not see, she only saw something large, brilliant, and handsome +moving toward her as she entered the room. Prince Vasili approached +first, and she kissed the bold forehead that bent over her hand and +answered his question by saying that, on the contrary, she +remembered him quite well. Then Anatole came up to her. She still +could not see him. She only felt a soft hand taking hers firmly, and +she touched with her lips a white forehead, over which was beautiful +light-brown hair smelling of pomade. When she looked up at him she was +struck by his beauty. Anatole stood with his right thumb under a +button of his uniform, his chest expanded and his back drawn in, +slightly swinging one foot, and, with his head a little bent, looked +with beaming face at the princess without speaking and evidently not +thinking about her at all. Anatole was not quick-witted, nor ready +or eloquent in conversation, but he had the faculty, so invaluable +in society, of composure and imperturbable self-possession. If a man +lacking in self-confidence remains dumb on a first introduction and +betrays a consciousness of the impropriety of such silence and an +anxiety to find something to say, the effect is bad. But Anatole was +dumb, swung his foot, and smilingly examined the princess' hair. It +was evident that he could be silent in this way for a very long +time. "If anyone finds this silence inconvenient, let him talk, but +I don't want to," he seemed to say. Besides this, in his behavior to +women Anatole had a manner which particularly inspires in them +curiosity, awe, and even love--a supercilious consciousness of his own +superiority. It was was as if he said to them: "I know you, I know +you, but why should I bother about you? You'd be only too glad, of +course." Perhaps he did not really think this when he met women- +even probably he did not, for in general he thought very little--but +his looks and manner gave that impression. The princess felt this, and +as if wishing to show him that she did not even dare expect to +interest him, she turned to his father. The conversation was general +and animated, thanks to Princess Lise's voice and little downy lip +that lifted over her white teeth. She met Prince Vasili with that +playful manner often employed by lively chatty people, and +consisting in the assumption that between the person they so address +and themselves there are some semi-private, long-established jokes and +amusing reminiscences, though no such reminiscences really exist--just +as none existed in this case. Prince Vasili readily adopted her tone +and the little princess also drew Anatole, whom she hardly knew, +into these amusing recollections of things that had never occurred. +Mademoiselle Bourienne also shared them and even Princess Mary felt +herself pleasantly made to share in these merry reminiscences. + +"Here at least we shall have the benefit of your company all to +ourselves, dear prince," said the little princess (of course, in +French) to Prince Vasili. "It's not as at Annette's* receptions +where you always ran away; you remember cette chere Annette!" + + +*Anna Pavlovna. + +"Ah, but you won't talk politics to me like Annette!" + +"And our little tea table?" + +"Oh, yes!" + +"Why is it you were never at Annette's?" the little princess asked +Anatole. "Ah, I know, I know," she said with a sly glance, "your +brother Hippolyte told me about your goings on. Oh!" and she shook her +finger at him, "I have even heard of your doings in Paris!" + +"And didn't Hippolyte tell you?" asked Prince Vasili, turning to his +son and seizing the little princess' arm as if she would have run away +and he had just managed to catch her, "didn't he tell you how he +himself was pining for the dear princess, and how she showed him the +door? Oh, she is a pearl among women, Princess," he added, turning +to Princess Mary. + +When Paris was mentioned, Mademoiselle Bourienne for her part seized +the opportunity of joining in the general current of recollections. + +She took the liberty of inquiring whether it was long since +Anatole had left Paris and how he had liked that city. Anatole +answered the Frenchwoman very readily and, looking at her with a +smile, talked to her about her native land. When he saw the pretty +little Bourienne, Anatole came to the conclusion that he would not +find Bald Hills dull either. "Not at all bad!" he thought, examining +her, "not at all bad, that little companion! I hope she will bring her +along with her when we're married, la petite est gentille."* + + +*The little one is charming. + + +The old prince dressed leisurely in his study, frowning and +considering what he was to do. The coming of these visitors annoyed +him. "What are Prince Vasili and that son of his to me? Prince +Vasili is a shallow braggart and his son, no doubt, is a fine +specimen," he grumbled to himself. What angered him was that the +coming of these visitors revived in his mind an unsettled question +he always tried to stifle, one about which he always deceived himself. +The question was whether he could ever bring himself to part from +his daughter and give her to a husband. The prince never directly +asked himself that question, knowing beforehand that he would have +to answer it justly, and justice clashed not only with his feelings +but with the very possibility of life. Life without Princess Mary, +little as he seemed to value her, was unthinkable to him. "And why +should she marry?" he thought. "To be unhappy for certain. There's +Lise, married to Andrew--a better husband one would think could hardly +be found nowadays--but is she contented with her lot? And who would +marry Marie for love? Plain and awkward! They'll take her for her +connections and wealth. Are there no women living unmarried, and +even the happier for it?" So thought Prince Bolkonski while +dressing, and yet the question he was always putting off demanded an +immediate answer. Prince Vasili had brought his son with the evident +intention of proposing, and today or tomorrow he would probably ask +for an answer. His birth and position in society were not bad. +"Well, I've nothing against it," the prince said to himself, "but he +must be worthy of her. And that is what we shall see." + +"That is what we shall see! That is what we shall see!" he added +aloud. + +He entered the drawing room with his usual alert step, glancing +rapidly round the company. He noticed the change in the little +princess' dress, Mademoiselle Bourienne's ribbon, Princess Mary's +unbecoming coiffure, Mademoiselle Bourienne's and Anatole's smiles, +and the loneliness of his daughter amid the general conversation. "Got +herself up like a fool!" he thought, looking irritably at her. "She is +shameless, and he ignores her!" + +He went straight up to Prince Vasili. + +"Well! How d'ye do? How d'ye do? Glad to see you!" + +"Friendship laughs at distance," began Prince Vasili in his usual +rapid, self-confident, familiar tone. "Here is my second son; please +love and befriend him." + +Prince Bolkonski surveyed Anatole. + +"Fine young fellow! Fine young fellow!" he said. "Well, come and +kiss me," and he offered his cheek. + +Anatole kissed the old man, and looked at him with curiosity and +perfect composure, waiting for a display of the eccentricities his +father had told him to expect. + +Prince Bolkonski sat down in his usual place in the corner of the +sofa and, drawing up an armchair for Prince Vasili, pointed to it +and began questioning him about political affairs and news. He +seemed to listen attentively to what Prince Vasili said, but kept +glancing at Princess Mary. + +"And so they are writing from Potsdam already?" he said, repeating +Prince Vasili's last words. Then rising, he suddenly went up to his +daughter. + +"Is it for visitors you've got yourself up like that, eh?" said +he. "Fine, very fine! You have done up your hair in this new way for +the visitors, and before the visitors I tell you that in future you +are never to dare to change your way of dress without my consent." + +"It was my fault, mon pere," interceded the little princess, with +a blush. + +"You must do as you please," said Prince Bolkonski, bowing to his +daughter-in-law, "but she need not make a fool of herself, she's plain +enough as it is." + +And he sat down again, paying no more attention to his daughter, who +was reduced to tears. + +"On the contrary, that coiffure suits the princess very well," +said Prince Vasili. + +"Now you, young prince, what's your name?" said Prince Bolkonski, +turning to Anatole, "come here, let us talk and get acquainted." + +"Now the fun begins," thought Anatole, sitting down with a smile +beside the old prince. + +"Well, my dear boy, I hear you've been educated abroad, not taught +to read and write by the deacon, like your father and me. Now tell me, +my dear boy, are you serving in the Horse Guards?" asked the old +man, scrutinizing Anatole closely and intently. + +"No, I have been transferred to the line," said Anatole, hardly able +to restrain his laughter. + +"Ah! That's a good thing. So, my dear boy, you wish to serve the +Tsar and the country? It is wartime. Such a fine fellow must serve. +Well, are you off to the front?" + +"No, Prince, our regiment has gone to the front, but I am +attached... what is it I am attached to, Papa?" said Anatole, +turning to his father with a laugh. + +"A splendid soldier, splendid! 'What am I attached to!' Ha, ha, ha!" +laughed Prince Bolkonski, and Anatole laughed still louder. Suddenly +Prince Bolkonski frowned. + +"You may go," he said to Anatole. + +Anatole returned smiling to the ladies. + +"And so you've had him educated abroad, Prince Vasili, haven't you?" +said the old prince to Prince Vasili. + +"I have done my best for him, and I can assure you the education +there is much better than ours." + +"Yes, everything is different nowadays, everything is changed. The +lad's a fine fellow, a fine fellow! Well, come with me now." He took +Prince Vasili's arm and led him to his study. As soon as they were +alone together, Prince Vasili announced his hopes and wishes to the +old prince. + +"Well, do you think I shall prevent her, that I can't part from +her?" said the old prince angrily. "What an idea! I'm ready for it +tomorrow! Only let me tell you, I want to know my son-in-law better. +You know my principles--everything aboveboard? I will ask her tomorrow +in your presence; if she is willing, then he can stay on. He can +stay and I'll see." The old prince snorted. "Let her marry, it's all +the same to me!" he screamed in the same piercing tone as when parting +from his son. + +"I will tell you frankly," said Prince Vasili in the tone of a +crafty man convinced of the futility of being cunning with so +keen-sighted companion. "You know, you see right through people. +Anatole is no genius, but he is an honest, goodhearted lad; an +excellent son or kinsman." + +"All right, all right, we'll see!" + +As always happens when women lead lonely lives for any length of +time without male society, on Anatole's appearance all the three women +of Prince Bolkonski's household felt that their life had not been real +till then. Their powers of reasoning, feeling, and observing +immediately increased tenfold, and their life, which seemed to have +been passed in darkness, was suddenly lit up by a new brightness, full +of significance. + +Princess Mary grew quite unconscious of her face and coiffure. The +handsome open face of the man who might perhaps be her husband +absorbed all her attention. He seemed to her kind, brave, +determined, manly, and magnanimous. She felt convinced of that. +Thousands of dreams of a future family life continually rose in her +imagination. She drove them away and tried to conceal them. + +"But am I not too cold with him?" thought the princess. "I try to be +reserved because in the depth of my soul I feel too near to him +already, but then he cannot know what I think of him and may imagine +that I do not like him." + +And Princess Mary tried, but could not manage, to be cordial to +her new guest. "Poor girl, she's devilish ugly!" thought Anatole. + +Mademoiselle Bourienne, also roused to great excitement by Anatole's +arrival, thought in another way. Of course, she, a handsome young +woman without any definite position, without relations or even a +country, did not intend to devote her life to serving Prince +Bolkonski, to reading aloud to him and being friends with Princess +Mary. Mademoiselle Bourienne had long been waiting for a Russian +prince who, able to appreciate at a glance her superiority to the +plain, badly dressed, ungainly Russian princesses, would fall in +love with her and carry her off; and here at last was a Russian +prince. Mademoiselle Bourienne knew a story, heard from her aunt but +finished in her own way, which she liked to repeat to herself. It +was the story of a girl who had been seduced, and to whom her poor +mother (sa pauvre mere) appeared, and reproached her for yielding to a +man without being married. Mademoiselle Bourienne was often touched to +tears as in imagination she told this story to him, her seducer. And +now he, a real Russian prince, had appeared. He would carry her away +and then sa pauvre mere would appear and he would marry her. So her +future shaped itself in Mademoiselle Bourienne's head at the very time +she was talking to Anatole about Paris. It was not calculation that +guided her (she did not even for a moment consider what she should +do), but all this had long been familiar to her, and now that +Anatole had appeared it just grouped itself around him and she +wished and tried to please him as much as possible. + +The little princess, like an old war horse that hears the trumpet, +unconsciously and quite forgetting her condition, prepared for the +familiar gallop of coquetry, without any ulterior motive or any +struggle, but with naive and lighthearted gaiety. + +Although in female society Anatole usually assumed the role of a man +tired of being run after by women, his vanity was flattered by the +spectacle of his power over these three women. Besides that, he was +beginning to feel for the pretty and provocative Mademoiselle +Bourienne that passionate animal feeling which was apt to master him +with great suddenness and prompt him to the coarsest and most reckless +actions. + +After tea, the company went into the sitting room and Princess +Mary was asked to play on the clavichord. Anatole, laughing and in +high spirits, came and leaned on his elbows, facing her and beside +Mademoiselle Bourienne. Princess Mary felt his look with a painfully +joyous emotion. Her favorite sonata bore her into a most intimately +poetic world and the look she felt upon her made that world still more +poetic. But Anatole's expression, though his eyes were fixed on her, +referred not to her but to the movements of Mademoiselle Bourienne's +little foot, which he was then touching with his own under the +clavichord. Mademoiselle Bourienne was also looking at Princess +Mary, and in her lovely eyes there was a look of fearful joy and +hope that was also new to the princess. + +"How she loves me!" thought Princess Mary. "How happy I am now, +and how happy I may be with such a friend and such a husband! Husband? +Can it be possible?" she thought, not daring to look at his face, +but still feeling his eyes gazing at her. + +In the evening, after supper, when all were about to retire, Anatole +kissed Princess Mary's hand. She did not know how she found the +courage, but she looked straight into his handsome face as it came +near to her shortsighted eyes. Turning from Princess Mary he went up +and kissed Mademoiselle Bourienne's hand. (This was not etiquette, but +then he did everything so simply and with such assurance!) +Mademoiselle Bourienne flushed, and gave the princess a frightened +look. + +"What delicacy!" thought the princess. "Is it possible that Amelie" +(Mademoiselle Bourienne) "thinks I could be jealous of her, and not +value her pure affection and devotion to me?" She went up to her and +kissed her warmly. Anatole went up to kiss the little princess' hand. + +"No! No! No! When your father writes to tell me that you are +behaving well I will give you my hand to kiss. Not till then!" she +said. And smilingly raising a finger at him, she left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +They all separated, but, except Anatole who fell asleep as soon as +he got into bed, all kept awake a long time that night. + +"Is he really to be my husband, this stranger who is so kind--yes, +kind, that is the chief thing," thought Princess Mary; and fear, which +she had seldom experienced, came upon her. She feared to look round, +it seemed to her that someone was there standing behind the screen +in the dark corner. And this someone was he--the devil--and he was +also this man with the white forehead, black eyebrows, and red lips. + +She rang for her maid and asked her to sleep in her room. + +Mademoiselle Bourienne walked up and down the conservatory for a +long time that evening, vainly expecting someone, now smiling at +someone, now working herself up to tears with the imaginary words of +her pauvre mere rebuking her for her fall. + +The little princess grumbled to her maid that her bed was badly +made. She could not lie either on her face or on her side. Every +position was awkward and uncomfortable, and her burden oppressed her +now more than ever because Anatole's presence had vividly recalled +to her the time when she was not like that and when everything was +light and gay. She sat in an armchair in her dressing jacket and +nightcap and Katie, sleepy and disheveled, beat and turned the heavy +feather bed for the third time, muttering to herself. + +"I told you it was all lumps and holes!" the little princess +repeated. "I should be glad enough to fall asleep, so it's not my +fault!" and her voice quivered like that of a child about to cry. + +The old prince did not sleep either. Tikhon, half asleep, heard +him pacing angrily about and snorting. The old prince felt as though +he had been insulted through his daughter. The insult was the more +pointed because it concerned not himself but another, his daughter, +whom he loved more than himself. He kept telling himself that he would +consider the whole matter and decide what was right and how he +should act, but instead of that he only excited himself more and more. + +"The first man that turns up--she forgets her father and +everything else, runs upstairs and does up her hair and wags her +tail and is unlike herself! Glad to throw her father over! And she +knew I should notice it. Fr... fr... fr! And don't I see that that +idiot had eyes only for Bourienne--I shall have to get rid of her. And +how is it she has not pride enough to see it? If she has no pride +for herself she might at least have some for my sake! She must be +shown that the blockhead thinks nothing of her and looks only at +Bourienne. No, she has no pride... but I'll let her see...." + +The old prince knew that if he told his daughter she was making a +mistake and that Anatole meant to flirt with Mademoiselle Bourienne, +Princess Mary's self-esteem would be wounded and his point (not to +be parted from her) would be gained, so pacifying himself with this +thought, he called Tikhon and began to undress. + +"What devil brought them here?" thought he, while Tikhon was putting +the nightshirt over his dried-up old body and gray-haired chest. "I +never invited them. They came to disturb my life--and there is not +much of it left." + +"Devil take 'em!" he muttered, while his head was still covered by +the shirt. + +Tikhon knew his master's habit of sometimes thinking aloud, and +therefore met with unaltered looks the angrily inquisitive +expression of the face that emerged from the shirt. + +"Gone to bed?" asked the prince. + +Tikhon, like all good valets, instinctively knew the direction of +his master's thoughts. He guessed that the question referred to Prince +Vasili and his son. + +"They have gone to bed and put out their lights, your excellency." + +"No good... no good..." said the prince rapidly, and thrusting his +feet into his slippers and his arms into the sleeves of his dressing +gown, he went to the couch on which he slept. + +Though no words had passed between Anatole and Mademoiselle +Bourienne, they quite understood one another as to the first part of +their romance, up to the appearance of the pauvre mere; they +understood that they had much to say to one another in private and +so they had been seeking an opportunity since morning to meet one +another alone. When Princess Mary went to her father's room at the +usual hour, Mademoiselle Bourienne and Anatole met in the +conservatory. + +Princess Mary went to the door of the study with special +trepidation. It seemed to her that not only did everybody know that +her fate would be decided that day, but that they also knew what she +thought about it. She read this in Tikhon's face and in that of Prince +Vasili's valet, who made her a low bow when she met him in the +corridor carrying hot water. + +The old prince was very affectionate and careful in his treatment of +his daughter that morning. Princess Mary well knew this painstaking +expression of her father's. His face wore that expression when his dry +hands clenched with vexation at her not understanding a sum in +arithmetic, when rising from his chair he would walk away from her, +repeating in a low voice the same words several times over. + +He came to the point at once, treating her ceremoniously. + +"I have had a proposition made me concerning you," he said with an +unnatural smile. "I expect you have guessed that Prince Vasili has not +come and brought his pupil with him" (for some reason Prince Bolkonski +referred to Anatole as a "pupil") "for the sake of my beautiful +eyes. Last night a proposition was made me on your account and, as you +know my principles, I refer it to you." + +"How am I to understand you, mon pere?" said the princess, growing +pale and then blushing. + +"How understand me!" cried her father angrily. "Prince Vasili +finds you to his taste as a daughter-in-law and makes a proposal to +you on his pupil's behalf. That's how it's to be understood! 'How +understand it'!... And I ask you!" + +"I do not know what you think, Father," whispered the princess. + +"I? I? What of me? Leave me out of the question. I'm not going to +get married. What about you? That's what I want to know." + +The princess saw that her father regarded the matter with +disapproval, but at that moment the thought occurred to her that her +fate would be decided now or never. She lowered her eyes so as not +to see the gaze under which she felt that she could not think, but +would only be able to submit from habit, and she said: "I wish only to +do your will, but if I had to express my own desire..." She had no +time to finish. The old prince interrupted her. + +"That's admirable!" he shouted. "He will take you with your dowry +and take Mademoiselle Bourienne into the bargain. She'll be the +wife, while you..." + +The prince stopped. He saw the effect these words had produced on +his daughter. She lowered her head and was ready to burst into tears. + +"Now then, now then, I'm only joking!" he said. "Remember this, +Princess, I hold to the principle that a maiden has a full right to +choose. I give you freedom. Only remember that your life's happiness +depends on your decision. Never mind me!" + +"But I do not know, Father!" + +"There's no need to talk! He receives his orders and will marry +you or anybody; but you are free to choose.... Go to your room, +think it over, and come back in an hour and tell me in his presence: +yes or no. I know you will pray over it. Well, pray if you like, but +you had better think it over. Go! Yes or no, yes or no, yes or no!" he +still shouted when the princess, as if lost in a fog, had already +staggered out of the study. + +Her fate was decided and happily decided. But what her father had +said about Mademoiselle Bourienne was dreadful. It was untrue to be +sure, but still it was terrible, and she could not help thinking of +it. She was going straight on through the conservatory, neither seeing +nor hearing anything, when suddenly the well-known whispering of +Mademoiselle Bourienne aroused her. She raised her eyes, and two steps +away saw Anatole embracing the Frenchwoman and whispering something to +her. With a horrified expression on his handsome face, Anatole +looked at Princess Mary, but did not at once take his arm from the +waist of Mademoiselle Bourienne who had not yet seen her. + +"Who's that? Why? Wait a moment!" Anatole's face seemed to say. +Princess Mary looked at them in silence. She could not understand +it. At last Mademoiselle Bourienne gave a scream and ran away. Anatole +bowed to Princess Mary with a gay smile, as if inviting her to join in +a laugh at this strange incident, and then shrugging his shoulders +went to the door that led to his own apartments. + +An hour later, Tikhon came to call Princess Mary to the old +prince; he added that Prince Vasili was also there. When Tikhon came +to her Princess Mary was sitting on the sofa in her room, holding +the weeping Mademoiselle Bourienne in her arms and gently stroking her +hair. The princess' beautiful eyes with all their former calm radiance +were looking with tender affection and pity at Mademoiselle +Bourienne's pretty face. + +"No, Princess, I have lost your affection forever!" said +Mademoiselle Bourienne. + +"Why? I love you more than ever," said Princess Mary, "and I will +try to do all I can for your happiness." + +"But you despise me. You who are so pure can never understand +being so carried away by passion. Oh, only my poor mother..." + +"I quite understand," answered Princess Mary, with a sad smile. +"Calm yourself, my dear. I will go to my father," she said, and went +out. + +Prince Vasili, with one leg thrown high over the other and a +snuffbox in his hand, was sitting there with a smile of deep emotion +on his face, as if stirred to his heart's core and himself +regretting and laughing at his own sensibility, when Princess Mary +entered. He hurriedly took a pinch of snuff. + +"Ah, my dear, my dear!" he began, rising and taking her by both +hands. Then, sighing, he added: "My son's fate is in your hands. +Decide, my dear, good, gentle Marie, whom I have always loved as a +daughter!" + +He drew back and a real tear appeared in his eye. + +"Fr... fr..." snorted Prince Bolkonski. "The prince is making a +proposition to you in his pupil's--I mean, his son's--name. Do you +wish or not to be Prince Anatole Kuragin's wife? Reply: yes or no," he +shouted, "and then I shall reserve the right to state my opinion also. +Yes, my opinion, and only my opinion," added Prince Bolkonski, turning +to Prince Vasili and answering his imploring look. "Yes, or no?" + +"My desire is never to leave you, Father, never to separate my +life from yours. I don't wish to marry," she answered positively, +glancing at Prince Vasili and at her father with her beautiful eyes. + +"Humbug! Nonsense! Humbug, humbug, humbug!" cried Prince +Bolkonski, frowning and taking his daughter's hand; he did not kiss +her, but only bending his forehead to hers just touched it, and +pressed her hand so that she winced and uttered a cry. + +Prince Vasili rose. + +"My dear, I must tell you that this is a moment I shall never, never +forget. But, my dear, will you not give us a little hope of touching +this heart, so kind and generous? Say 'perhaps'... The future is so +long. Say 'perhaps.'" + +"Prince, what I have said is all there is in my heart. I thank you +for the honor, but I shall never be your son's wife." + +"Well, so that's finished, my dear fellow! I am very glad to have +seen you. Very glad! Go back to your rooms, Princess. Go!" said the +old prince. "Very, very glad to have seen you," repeated he, +embracing Prince Vasili. + +"My vocation is a different one," thought Princess Mary. "My +vocation is to be happy with another kind of happiness, the +happiness of love and self-sacrifice. And cost what it may, I will +arrange poor Amelie's happiness, she loves him so passionately, and so +passionately repents. I will do all I can to arrange the match between +them. If he is not rich I will give her the means; I will ask my +father and Andrew. I shall be so happy when she is his wife. She is so +unfortunate, a stranger, alone, helpless! And, oh God, how +passionately she must love him if she could so far forget herself! +Perhaps I might have done the same!..." thought Princess Mary. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +It was long since the Rostovs had news of Nicholas. Not till +midwinter was the count at last handed a letter addressed in his son's +handwriting. On receiving it, he ran on tiptoe to his study in alarm +and haste, trying to escape notice, closed the door, and began to read +the letter. + +Anna Mikhaylovna, who always knew everything that passed in the +house, on hearing of the arrival of the letter went softly into the +room and found the count with it in his hand, sobbing and laughing +at the same time. + +Anna Mikhaylovna, though her circumstances had improved, was still +living with the Rostovs. + +"My dear friend?" said she, in a tone of pathetic inquiry, +prepared to sympathize in any way. + +The count sobbed yet more. + +"Nikolenka... a letter... wa... a... s... wounded... my darling +boy... the countess... promoted to be an officer... thank God... How +tell the little countess!" + +Anna Mikhaylovna sat down beside him, with her own handkerchief +wiped the tears from his eyes and from the letter, then having dried +her own eyes she comforted the count, and decided that at dinner and +till teatime she would prepare the countess, and after tea, with God's +help, would inform her. + +At dinner Anna Mikhaylovna talked the whole time about the war +news and about Nikolenka, twice asked when the last letter had been +received from him, though she knew that already, and remarked that +they might very likely be getting a letter from him that day. Each +time that these hints began to make the countess anxious and she +glanced uneasily at the count and at Anna Mikhaylovna, the latter very +adroitly turned the conversation to insignificant matters. Natasha, +who, of the whole family, was the most gifted with a capacity to +feel any shades of intonation, look, and expression, pricked up her +ears from the beginning of the meal and was certain that there was +some secret between her father and Anna Mikhaylovna, that it had +something to do with her brother, and that Anna Mikhaylovna was +preparing them for it. Bold as she was, Natasha, who knew how +sensitive her mother was to anything relating to Nikolenka, did not +venture to ask any questions at dinner, but she was too excited to eat +anything and kept wriggling about on her chair regardless of her +governess' remarks. After dinner, she rushed head long after Anna +Mikhaylovna and, dashing at her, flung herself on her neck as soon +as she overtook her in the sitting room. + +"Auntie, darling, do tell me what it is!" + +"Nothing, my dear." + +"No, dearest, sweet one, honey, I won't give up--I know you know +something." + +Anna Mikhaylovna shook her head. + +"You are a little slyboots," she said. + +"A letter from Nikolenka! I'm sure of it!" exclaimed Natasha, +reading confirmation in Anna Mikhaylovna's face. + +"But for God's sake, be careful, you know how it may affect your +mamma." + +"I will, I will, only tell me! You won't? Then I will go and tell at +once." + +Anna Mikhaylovna, in a few words, told her the contents of the +letter, on condition that she should tell no one. + +"No, on my true word of honor," said Natasha, crossing herself, +"I won't tell anyone!" and she ran off at once to Sonya. + +"Nikolenka... wounded... a letter," she announced in gleeful +triumph. + +"Nicholas!" was all Sonya said, instantly turning white. + +Natasha, seeing the impression the of her brother's wound produced +on Sonya, felt for the first time the sorrowful side of the news. + +She rushed to Sonya, hugged her, and began to cry. + +"A little wound, but he has been made an officer; he is well now, he +wrote himself," said she through her tears. + +"There now! It's true that all you women are crybabies," remarked +Petya, pacing the room with large, resolute strides. "Now I'm very +glad, very glad indeed, that my brother has distinguished himself +so. You are all blubberers and understand nothing." + +Natasha smiled through her tears. + +"You haven't read the letter?" asked Sonya. + +"No, but she said that it was all over and that he's now an +officer." + +"Thank God!" said Sonya, crossing herself. "But perhaps she deceived +you. Let us go to Mamma." + +Petya paced the room in silence for a time. + +"If I'd been in Nikolenka's place I would have killed even more of +those Frenchmen," he said. "What nasty brutes they are! I'd have +killed so many that there'd have been a heap of them." + +"Hold your tongue, Petya, what a goose you are!" + +"I'm not a goose, but they are who cry about trifles," said Petya. + +"Do you remember him?" Natasha suddenly asked, after a moment's +silence. + +Sonya smiled. + +"Do I remember Nicholas?" + +"No, Sonya, but do you remember so that you remember him +perfectly, remember everything?" said Natasha, with an expressive +gesture, evidently wishing to give her words a very definite +meaning. "I remember Nikolenka too, I remember him well," she said. +"But I don't remember Boris. I don't remember him a bit." + +"What! You don't remember Boris?" asked Sonya in surprise. + +"It's not that I don't remember--I know what he is like, but not +as I remember Nikolenka. Him--I just shut my eyes and remember, but +Boris... No!" (She shut her eyes.)"No! there's nothing at all." + +"Oh, Natasha!" said Sonya, looking ecstatically and earnestly at her +friend as if she did not consider her worthy to hear what she meant to +say and as if she were saying it to someone else, with whom joking was +out of the question, "I am in love with your brother once for all and, +whatever may happen to him or to me, shall never cease to love him +as long as I live." + +Natasha looked at Sonya with wondering and inquisitive eyes, and +said nothing. She felt that Sonya was speaking the truth, that there +was such love as Sonya was speaking of. But Natasha had not yet felt +anything like it. She believed it could be, but did not understand it. + +"Shall you write to him?" she asked. + +Sonya became thoughtful. The question of how to write to Nicholas, +and whether she ought to write, tormented her. Now that he was already +an officer and a wounded hero, would it be right to remind him of +herself and, as it might seem, of the obligations to her he had +taken on himself? + +"I don't know. I think if he writes, I will write too," she said, +blushing. + +"And you won't feel ashamed to write to him?" + +Sonya smiled. + +"No." + +"And I should be ashamed to write to Boris. I'm not going to." + +"Why should you be ashamed?" + +"Well, I don't know. It's awkward and would make me ashamed." + +"And I know why she'd be ashamed," said Petya, offended by Natasha's +previous remark. "It's because she was in love with that fat one in +spectacles" (that was how Petya described his namesake, the new +Count Bezukhov) "and now she's in love with that singer" (he meant +Natasha's Italian singing master), "that's why she's ashamed!" + +"Petya, you're a stupid!" said Natasha. + +"Not more stupid than you, madam," said the nine-year-old Petya, +with the air of an old brigadier. + +The countess had been prepared by Anna Mikhaylovna's hints at +dinner. On retiring to her own room, she sat in an armchair, her +eyes fixed on a miniature portrait of her son on the lid of a +snuffbox, while the tears kept coming into her eyes. Anna Mikhaylovna, +with the letter, came on tiptoe to the countess' door and paused. + +"Don't come in," she said to the old count who was following her. +"Come later." And she went in, closing the door behind her. + +The count put his ear to the keyhole and listened. + +At first he heard the sound of indifferent voices, then Anna +Mikhaylovna's voice alone in a long speech, then a cry, then +silence, then both voices together with glad intonations, and then +footsteps. Anna Mikhaylovna opened the door. Her face wore the proud +expression of a surgeon who has just performed a difficult operation +and admits the public to appreciate his skill. + +"It is done!" she said to the count, pointing triumphantly to the +countess, who sat holding in one hand the snuffbox with its portrait +and in the other the letter, and pressing them alternately to her +lips. + +When she saw the count, she stretched out her arms to him, +embraced his bald head, over which she again looked at the letter +and the portrait, and in order to press them again to her lips, she +slightly pushed away the bald head. Vera, Natasha, Sonya, and Petya +now entered the room, and the reading of the letter began. After a +brief description of the campaign and the two battles in which he +had taken part, and his promotion, Nicholas said that he kissed his +father's and mother's hands asking for their blessing, and that he +kissed Vera, Natasha, and Petya. Besides that, he sent greetings to +Monsieur Schelling, Madame Schoss, and his old nurse, and asked them +to kiss for him "dear Sonya, whom he loved and thought of just the +same as ever." When she heard this Sonya blushed so that tears came +into her eyes and, unable to bear the looks turned upon her, ran +away into the dancing hall, whirled round it at full speed with her +dress puffed out like a balloon, and, flushed and smiling, plumped +down on the floor. The countess was crying. + +"Why are you crying, Mamma?" asked Vera. "From all he says one +should be glad and not cry." + +This was quite true, but the count, the countess, and Natasha looked +at her reproachfully. "And who is it she takes after?" thought the +countess. + +Nicholas' letter was read over hundreds of times, and those who were +considered worthy to hear it had to come to the countess, for she +did not let it out of her hands. The tutors came, and the nurses, +and Dmitri, and several acquaintances, and the countess reread the +letter each time with fresh pleasure and each time discovered in it +fresh proofs of Nikolenka's virtues. How strange, how extraordinary, +how joyful it seemed, that her son, the scarcely perceptible motion of +whose tiny limbs she had felt twenty years ago within her, that son +about whom she used to have quarrels with the too indulgent count, +that son who had first learned to say "pear" and then "granny," that +this son should now be away in a foreign land amid strange +surroundings, a manly warrior doing some kind of man's work of his +own, without help or guidance. The universal experience of ages, +showing that children do grow imperceptibly from the cradle to +manhood, did not exist for the countess. Her son's growth toward +manhood, at each of its stages, had seemed as extraordinary to her +as if there had never existed the millions of human beings who grew up +in the same way. As twenty years before, it seemed impossible that the +little creature who lived somewhere under her heart would ever cry, +suck her breast, and begin to speak, so now she could not believe that +that little creature could be this strong, brave man, this model son +and officer that, judging by this letter, he now was. + +"What a style! How charmingly he describes!" said she, reading the +descriptive part of the letter. "And what a soul! Not a word about +himself.... Not a word! About some Denisov or other, though he +himself, I dare say, is braver than any of them. He says nothing about +his sufferings. What a heart! How like him it is! And how he has +remembered everybody! Not forgetting anyone. I always said when he was +only so high--I always said...." + +For more than a week preparations were being made, rough drafts of +letters to Nicholas from all the household were written and copied +out, while under the supervision of the countess and the solicitude of +the count, money and all things necessary for the uniform and +equipment of the newly commissioned officer were collected. Anna +Mikhaylovna, practical woman that she was, had even managed by favor +with army authorities to secure advantageous means of communication +for herself and her son. She had opportunities of sending her +letters to the Grand Duke Constantine Pavlovich, who commanded the +Guards. The Rostovs supposed that The Russian Guards, Abroad, was +quite a definite address, and that if a letter reached the Grand +Duke in command of the Guards there was no reason why it should not +reach the Pavlograd regiment, which was presumably somewhere in the +same neighborhood. And so it was decided to send the letters and money +by the Grand Duke's courier to Boris and Boris was to forward them +to Nicholas. The letters were from the old count, the countess, Petya, +Vera, Natasha, and Sonya, and finally there were six thousand rubles +for his outfit and various other things the old count sent to his son. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +On the twelfth of November, Kutuzov's active army, in camp before +Olmutz, was preparing to be reviewed next day by the two Emperors--the +Russian and the Austrian. The Guards, just arrived from Russia, +spent the night ten miles from Olmutz and next morning were to come +straight to the review, reaching the field at Olmutz by ten o'clock. + +That day Nicholas Rostov received a letter from Boris, telling him +that the Ismaylov regiment was quartered for the night ten miles +from Olmutz and that he wanted to see him as he had a letter and money +for him. Rostov was particularly in need of money now that the troops, +after their active service, were stationed near Olmutz and the camp +swarmed with well-provisioned sutlers and Austrian Jews offering all +sorts of tempting wares. The Pavlograds held feast after feast, +celebrating awards they had received for the campaign, and made +expeditions to Olmutz to visit a certain Caroline the Hungarian, who +had recently opened a restaurant there with girls as waitresses. +Rostov, who had just celebrated his promotion to a cornetcy and bought +Denisov's horse, Bedouin, was in debt all round, to his comrades and +the sutlers. On receiving Boris' letter he rode with a fellow +officer to Olmutz, dined there, drank a bottle of wine, and then set +off alone to the Guards' camp to find his old playmate. Rostov had not +yet had time to get his uniform. He had on a shabby cadet jacket, +decorated with a soldier's cross, equally shabby cadet's riding +breeches lined with worn leather, and an officer's saber with a +sword knot. The Don horse he was riding was one he had bought from a +Cossack during the campaign, and he wore a crumpled hussar cap stuck +jauntily back on one side of his head. As he rode up to the camp he +thought how he would impress Boris and all his comrades of the +Guards by his appearance--that of a fighting hussar who had been under +fire. + +The Guards had made their whole march as if on a pleasure trip, +parading their cleanliness and discipline. They had come by easy +stages, their knapsacks conveyed on carts, and the Austrian +authorities had provided excellent dinners for the officers at every +halting place. The regiments had entered and left the town with +their bands playing, and by the Grand Duke's orders the men had +marched all the way in step (a practice on which the Guards prided +themselves), the officers on foot and at their proper posts. Boris had +been quartered, and had marched all the way, with Berg who was already +in command of a company. Berg, who had obtained his captaincy during +the campaign, had gained the confidence of his superiors by his +promptitude and accuracy and had arranged his money matters very +satisfactorily. Boris, during the campaign, had made the +acquaintance of many persons who might prove useful to him, and by a +letter of recommendation he had brought from Pierre had become +acquainted with Prince Andrew Bolkonski, through whom he hoped to +obtain a post on the commander in chief's staff. Berg and Boris, +having rested after yesterday's march, were sitting, clean and +neatly dressed, at a round table in the clean quarters allotted to +them, playing chess. Berg held a smoking pipe between his knees. +Boris, in the accurate way characteristic of him, was building a +little pyramid of chessmen with his delicate white fingers while +awaiting Berg's move, and watched his opponent's face, evidently +thinking about the game as he always thought only of whatever he was +engaged on. + +"Well, how are you going to get out of that?" he remarked. + +"We'll try to," replied Berg, touching a pawn and then removing +his hand. + +At that moment the door opened. + +"Here he is at last!" shouted Rostov. "And Berg too! Oh, you +petisenfans, allay cushay dormir!" he exclaimed, imitating his Russian +nurse's French, at which he and Boris used to laugh long ago. + +"Dear me, how you have changed!" + +Boris rose to meet Rostov, but in doing so did not omit to steady +and replace some chessmen that were falling. He was about to embrace +his friend, but Nicholas avoided him. With that peculiar feeling of +youth, that dread of beaten tracks, and wish to express itself in a +manner different from that of its elders which is often insincere, +Nicholas wished to do something special on meeting his friend. He +wanted to pinch him, push him, do anything but kiss him--a thing +everybody did. But notwithstanding this, Boris embraced him in a +quiet, friendly way and kissed him three times. + +They had not met for nearly half a year and, being at the age when +young men take their first steps on life's road, each saw immense +changes in the other, quite a new reflection of the society in which +they had taken those first steps. Both had changed greatly since +they last met and both were in a hurry to show the changes that had +taken place in them. + +"Oh, you damned dandies! Clean and fresh as if you'd been to a fete, +not like us sinners of the line," cried Rostov, with martial swagger +and with baritone notes in his voice, new to Boris, pointing to his +own mud-bespattered breeches. The German landlady, hearing Rostov's +loud voice, popped her head in at the door. + +"Eh, is she pretty?" he asked with a wink. + +"Why do you shout so? You'll frighten them!" said Boris. "I did +not expect you today," he added. "I only sent you the note yesterday +by Bolkonski--an adjutant of Kutuzov's, who's a friend of mine. I +did not think he would get it to you so quickly.... Well, how are you? +Been under fire already?" asked Boris. + +Without answering, Rostov shook the soldier's Cross of St. George +fastened to the cording of his uniform and, indicating a bandaged arm, +glanced at Berg with a smile. + +"As you see," he said. + +"Indeed? Yes, yes!" said Boris, with a smile. "And we too have had a +splendid march. You know, of course, that His Imperial Highness rode +with our regiment all the time, so that we had every comfort and every +advantage. What receptions we had in Poland! What dinners and balls! I +can't tell you. And the Tsarevich was very gracious to all our +officers." + +And the two friends told each other of their doings, the one of +his hussar revels and life in the fighting line, the other of the +pleasures and advantages of service under members of the Imperial +family. + +"Oh, you Guards!" said Rostov. "I say, send for some wine." + +Boris made a grimace. + +"If you really want it," said he. + +He went to his bed, drew a purse from under the clean pillow, and +sent for wine. + +"Yes, and I have some money and a letter to give you," he added. + +Rostov took the letter and, throwing the money on the sofa, put both +arms on the table and began to read. After reading a few lines, he +glanced angrily at Berg, then, meeting his eyes, hid his face behind +the letter. + +"Well, they've sent you a tidy sum," said Berg, eying the heavy +purse that sank into the sofa. "As for us, Count, we get along on +our pay. I can tell you for myself..." + +"I say, Berg, my dear fellow," said Rostov, "when you get a letter +from home and meet one of your own people whom you want to talk +everything over with, and I happen to be there, I'll go at once, to be +out of your way! Do go somewhere, anywhere... to the devil!" he +exclaimed, and immediately seizing him by the shoulder and looking +amiably into his face, evidently wishing to soften the rudeness of his +words, he added, "Don't be hurt, my dear fellow; you know I speak from +my heart as to an old acquaintance." + +"Oh, don't mention it, Count! I quite understand," said Berg, +getting up and speaking in a muffled and guttural voice. + +"Go across to our hosts: they invited you," added Boris. + +Berg put on the cleanest of coats, without a spot or speck of +dust, stood before a looking glass and brushed the hair on his temples +upwards, in the way affected by the Emperor Alexander, and, having +assured himself from the way Rostov looked at it that his coat had +been noticed, left the room with a pleasant smile. + +"Oh dear, what a beast I am!" muttered Rostov, as he read the +letter. + +"Why?" + +"Oh, what a pig I am, not to have written and to have given them +such a fright! Oh, what a pig I am!" he repeated, flushing suddenly. +"Well, have you sent Gabriel for some wine? All right let's have +some!" + +In the letter from his parents was enclosed a letter of +recommendation to Bagration which the old countess at Anna +Mikhaylovna's advice had obtained through an acquaintance and sent +to her son, asking him to take it to its destination and make use of +it. + +"What nonsense! Much I need it!" said Rostov, throwing the letter +under the table. + +"Why have you thrown that away?" asked Boris. + +"It is some letter of recommendation... what the devil do I want +it for!" + +"Why 'What the devil'?" said Boris, picking it up and reading the +address. "This letter would be of great use to you." + +"I want nothing, and I won't be anyone's adjutant." + +"Why not?" inquired Boris. + +"It's a lackey's job!" + +"You are still the same dreamer, I see," remarked Boris, shaking his +head. + +"And you're still the same diplomatist! But that's not the +point... Come, how are you?" asked Rostov. + +"Well, as you see. So far everything's all right, but I confess I +should much like to be an adjutant and not remain at the front." + +"Why?" + +"Because when once a man starts on military service, he should try +to make as successful a career of it as possible." + +"Oh, that's it!" said Rostov, evidently thinking of something else. + +He looked intently and inquiringly into his friend's eyes, evidently +trying in vain to find the answer to some question. + +Old Gabriel brought in the wine. + +"Shouldn't we now send for Berg?" asked Boris. "He would drink +with you. I can't." + +"Well, send for him... and how do you get on with that German?" +asked Rostov, with a contemptuous smile. + +"He is a very, very nice, honest, and pleasant fellow," answered +Boris. + +Again Rostov looked intently into Boris' eyes and sighed. Berg +returned, and over the bottle of wine conversation between the three +officers became animated. The Guardsmen told Rostov of their march and +how they had been made much of in Russia, Poland, and abroad. They +spoke of the sayings and doings of their commander, the Grand Duke, +and told stories of his kindness and irascibility. Berg, as usual, +kept silent when the subject did not relate to himself, but in +connection with the stories of the Grand Duke's quick temper he +related with gusto how in Galicia he had managed to deal with the +Grand Duke when the latter made a tour of the regiments and was +annoyed at the irregularity of a movement. With a pleasant smile +Berg related how the Grand Duke had ridden up to him in a violent +passion, shouting: "Arnauts!" ("Arnauts" was the Tsarevich's +favorite expression when he was in a rage) and called for the +company commander. + +"Would you believe it, Count, I was not at all alarmed, because I +knew I was right. Without boasting, you know, I may say that I know +the Army Orders by heart and know the Regulations as well as I do +the Lord's Prayer. So, Count, there never is any negligence in my +company, and so my conscience was at ease. I came forward...." (Berg +stood up and showed how he presented himself, with his hand to his +cap, and really it would have been difficult for a face to express +greater respect and self-complacency than his did.) "Well, he +stormed at me, as the saying is, stormed and stormed and stormed! It +was not a matter of life but rather of death, as the saying is. +'Albanians!' and 'devils!' and 'To Siberia!'" said Berg with a +sagacious smile. "I knew I was in the right so I kept silent; was +not that best, Count?... 'Hey, are you dumb?' he shouted. Still I +remained silent. And what do you think, Count? The next day it was not +even mentioned in the Orders of the Day. That's what keeping one's +head means. That's the way, Count," said Berg, lighting his pipe and +emitting rings of smoke. + +"Yes, that was fine," said Rostov, smiling. + +But Boris noticed that he was preparing to make fun of Berg, and +skillfully changed the subject. He asked him to tell them how and +where he got his wound. This pleased Rostov and he began talking about +it, and as he went on became more and more animated. He told them of +his Schon Grabern affair, just as those who have taken part in a +battle generally do describe it, that is, as they would like it to +have been, as they have heard it described by others, and as sounds +well, but not at all as it really was. Rostov was a truthful young man +and would on no account have told a deliberate lie. He began his story +meaning to tell everything just as it happened, but imperceptibly, +involuntarily, and inevitably he lapsed into falsehood. If he had told +the truth to his hearers--who like himself had often heard stories +of attacks and had formed a definite idea of what an attack was and +were expecting to hear just such a story--they would either not have +believed him or, still worse, would have thought that Rostov was +himself to blame since what generally happens to the narrators of +cavalry attacks had not happened to him. He could not tell them simply +that everyone went at a trot and that he fell off his horse and +sprained his arm and then ran as hard as he could from a Frenchman +into the wood. Besides, to tell everything as it really happened, it +would have been necessary to make an effort of will to tell only +what happened. It is very difficult to tell the truth, and young +people are rarely capable of it. His hearers expected a story of how +beside himself and all aflame with excitement, he had flown like a +storm at the square, cut his way in, slashed right and left, how his +saber had tasted flesh and he had fallen exhausted, and so on. And +so he told them all that. + +In the middle of his story, just as he was saying: "You cannot +imagine what a strange frenzy one experiences during an attack," +Prince Andrew, whom Boris was expecting, entered the room. Prince +Andrew, who liked to help young men, was flattered by being asked +for his assistance and being well disposed toward Boris, who had +managed to please him the day before, he wished to do what the young +man wanted. Having been sent with papers from Kutuzov to the +Tsarevich, he looked in on Boris, hoping to find him alone. When he +came in and saw an hussar of the line recounting his military exploits +(Prince Andrew could not endure that sort of man), he gave Boris a +pleasant smile, frowned as with half-closed eyes he looked at +Rostov, bowed slightly and wearily, and sat down languidly on the +sofa: he felt it unpleasant to have dropped in on bad company. +Rostov flushed up on noticing this, but he did not care, this was a +mere stranger. Glancing, however, at Boris, he saw that he too +seemed ashamed of the hussar of the line. + +In spite of Prince Andrew's disagreeable, ironical tone, in spite of +the contempt with which Rostov, from his fighting army point of +view, regarded all these little adjutants on the staff of whom the +newcomer was evidently one, Rostov felt confused, blushed, and +became silent. Boris inquired what news there might be on the staff, +and what, without indiscretion, one might ask about our plans. + +"We shall probably advance," replied Bolkonski, evidently +reluctant to say more in the presence of a stranger. + +Berg took the opportunity to ask, with great politeness, whether, as +was rumored, the allowance of forage money to captains of companies +would be doubled. To this Prince Andrew answered with a smile that +he could give no opinion on such an important government order, and +Berg laughed gaily. + +"As to your business," Prince Andrew continued, addressing Boris, +"we will talk of it later" (and he looked round at Rostov). "Come to +me after the review and we will do what is possible." + +And, having glanced round the room, Prince Andrew turned to +Rostov, whose state of unconquerable childish embarrassment now +changing to anger he did not condescend to notice, and said: "I +think you were talking of the Schon Grabern affair? Were you there?" + +"I was there," said Rostov angrily, as if intending to insult the +aide-de-camp. + +Bolkonski noticed the hussar's state of mind, and it amused him. +With a slightly contemptuous smile, he said: "Yes, there are many +stories now told about that affair!" + +"Yes, stories!" repeated Rostov loudly, looking with eyes suddenly +grown furious, now at Boris, now at Bolkonski. "Yes, many stories! But +our stories are the stories of men who have been under the enemy's +fire! Our stories have some weight, not like the stories of those +fellows on the staff who get rewards without doing anything!" + +"Of whom you imagine me to be one?" said Prince Andrew, with a quiet +and particularly amiable smile. + +A strange feeling of exasperation and yet of respect for this +man's self-possession mingled at that moment in Rostov's soul. + +"I am not talking about you," he said, "I don't know you and, +frankly, I don't want to. I am speaking of the staff in general." + +"And I will tell you this," Prince Andrew interrupted in a tone of +quiet authority, "you wish to insult me, and I am ready to agree +with you that it would be very easy to do so if you haven't sufficient +self-respect, but admit that the time and place are very badly chosen. +In a day or two we shall all have to take part in a greater and more +serious duel, and besides, Drubetskoy, who says he is an old friend of +yours, is not at all to blame that my face has the misfortune to +displease you. However," he added rising, "you know my name and +where to find me, but don't forget that I do not regard either +myself or you as having been at all insulted, and as a man older +than you, my advice is to let the matter drop. Well then, on Friday +after the review I shall expect you, Drubetskoy. Au revoir!" exclaimed +Prince Andrew, and with a bow to them both he went out. + +Only when Prince Andrew was gone did Rostov think of what he ought +to have said. And he was still more angry at having omitted to say it. +He ordered his horse at once and, coldly taking leave of Boris, rode +home. Should he go to headquarters next day and challenge that +affected adjutant, or really let the matter drop, was the question +that worried him all the way. He thought angrily of the pleasure he +would have at seeing the fright of that small and frail but proud +man when covered by his pistol, and then he felt with surprise that of +all the men he knew there was none he would so much like to have for a +friend as that very adjutant whom he so hated. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The day after Rostov had been to see Boris, a review was held of the +Austrian and Russian troops, both those freshly arrived from Russia +and those who had been campaigning under Kutuzov. The two Emperors, +the Russian with his heir the Tsarevich, and the Austrian with the +Archduke, inspected the allied army of eighty thousand men. + +From early morning the smart clean troops were on the move, +forming up on the field before the fortress. Now thousands of feet and +bayonets moved and halted at the officers' command, turned with +banners flying, formed up at intervals, and wheeled round other +similar masses of infantry in different uniforms; now was heard the +rhythmic beat of hoofs and the jingling of showy cavalry in blue, red, +and green braided uniforms, with smartly dressed bandsmen in front +mounted on black, roan, or gray horses; then again, spreading out with +the brazen clatter of the polished shining cannon that quivered on the +gun carriages and with the smell of linstocks, came the artillery +which crawled between the infantry and cavalry and took up its +appointed position. Not only the generals in full parade uniforms, +with their thin or thick waists drawn in to the utmost, their red +necks squeezed into their stiff collars, and wearing scarves and all +their decorations, not only the elegant, pomaded officers, but every +soldier with his freshly washed and shaven face and his weapons +clean and polished to the utmost, and every horse groomed till its +coat shone like satin and every hair of its wetted mane lay smooth- +felt that no small matter was happening, but an important and solemn +affair. Every general and every soldier was conscious of his own +insignificance, aware of being but a drop in that ocean of men, and +yet at the same time was conscious of his strength as a part of that +enormous whole. + +From early morning strenuous activities and efforts had begun and by +ten o'clock all had been brought into due order. The ranks were +drown up on the vast field. The whole army was extended in three +lines: the cavalry in front, behind it the artillery, and behind +that again the infantry. + +A space like a street was left between each two lines of troops. The +three parts of that army were sharply distinguished: Kutuzov's +fighting army (with the Pavlograds on the right flank of the front); +those recently arrived from Russia, both Guards and regiments of the +line; and the Austrian troops. But they all stood in the same lines, +under one command, and in a like order. + +Like wind over leaves ran an excited whisper: "They're coming! +They're coming!" Alarmed voices were heard, and a stir of final +preparation swept over all the troops. + +From the direction of Olmutz in front of them, a group was seen +approaching. And at that moment, though the day was still, a light +gust of wind blowing over the army slightly stirred the streamers on +the lances and the unfolded standards fluttered against their +staffs. It looked as if by that slight motion the army itself was +expressing its joy at the approach of the Emperors. One voice was +heard shouting: "Eyes front!" Then, like the crowing of cocks at +sunrise, this was repeated by others from various sides and all became +silent. + +In the deathlike stillness only the tramp of horses was heard. +This was the Emperors' suites. The Emperors rode up to the flank, +and the trumpets of the first cavalry regiment played the general +march. It seemed as though not the trumpeters were playing, but as +if the army itself, rejoicing at the Emperors' approach, had naturally +burst into music. Amid these sounds, only the youthful kindly voice of +the Emperor Alexander was clearly heard. He gave the words of +greeting, and the first regiment roared "Hurrah!" so deafeningly, +continuously, and joyfully that the men themselves were awed by +their multitude and the immensity of the power they constituted. + +Rostov, standing in the front lines of Kutuzov's army which the Tsar +approached first, experienced the same feeling as every other man in +that army: a feeling of self-forgetfulness, a proud consciousness of +might, and a passionate attraction to him who was the cause of this +triumph. + +He felt that at a single word from that man all this vast mass +(and he himself an insignificant atom in it) would go through fire and +water, commit crime, die, or perform deeds of highest heroism, and +so he could not but tremble and his heart stand still at the imminence +of that word. + +"Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!" thundered from all sides, one regiment +after another greeting the Tsar with the strains of the march, and +then "Hurrah!"... Then the general march, and again "Hurrah! +Hurrah!" growing ever stronger and fuller and merging into a deafening +roar. + +Till the Tsar reached it, each regiment in its silence and +immobility seemed like a lifeless body, but as soon as he came up it +became alive, its thunder joining the roar of the whole line along +which he had already passed. Through the terrible and deafening roar +of those voices, amid the square masses of troops standing +motionless as if turned to stone, hundreds of riders composing the +suites moved carelessly but symmetrically and above all freely, and in +front of them two men--the Emperors. Upon them the undivided, +tensely passionate attention of that whole mass of men was +concentrated. + +The handsome young Emperor Alexander, in the uniform of the Horse +Guards, wearing a cocked hat with its peaks front and back, with his +pleasant face and resonant though not loud voice, attracted everyone's +attention. + +Rostov was not far from the trumpeters, and with his keen sight +had recognized the Tsar and watched his approach. When he was within +twenty paces, and Nicholas could clearly distinguish every detail of +his handsome, happy young face, he experienced a feeling tenderness +and ecstasy such as he had never before known. Every trait and every +movement of the Tsar's seemed to him enchanting. + +Stopping in front of the Pavlograds, the Tsar said something in +French to the Austrian Emperor and smiled. + +Seeing that smile, Rostov involuntarily smiled himself and felt a +still stronger flow of love for his sovereign. He longed to show +that love in some way and knowing that this was impossible was ready +to cry. The Tsar called the colonel of the regiment and said a few +words to him. + +"Oh God, what would happen to me if the Emperor spoke to me?" +thought Rostov. "I should die of happiness!" + +The Tsar addressed the officers also: "I thank you all, gentlemen, I +thank you with my whole heart." To Rostov every word sounded like a +voice from heaven. How gladly would he have died at once for his Tsar! + +"You have earned the St. George's standards and will be worthy of +them." + +"Oh, to die, to die for him," thought Rostov. + +The Tsar said something more which Rostov did not hear, and the +soldiers, straining their lungs, shouted "Hurrah!" + +Rostov too, bending over his saddle, shouted "Hurrah!" with all +his might, feeling that he would like to injure himself by that shout, +if only to express his rapture fully. + +The Tsar stopped a few minutes in front of the hussars as if +undecided. + +"How can the Emperor be undecided?" thought Rostov, but then even +this indecision appeared to him majestic and enchanting, like +everything else the Tsar did. + +That hesitation lasted only an instant. The Tsar's foot, in the +narrow pointed boot then fashionable, touched the groin of the +bobtailed bay mare he rode, his hand in a white glove gathered up +the reins, and he moved off accompanied by an irregularly swaying +sea of aides-de-camp. Farther and farther he rode away, stopping at +other regiments, till at last only his white plumes were visible to +Rostov from amid the suites that surrounded the Emperors. + +Among the gentlemen of the suite, Rostov noticed Bolkonski, +sitting his horse indolently and carelessly. Rostov recalled their +quarrel of yesterday and the question presented itself whether he +ought or ought not to challenge Bolkonski. "Of course not!" he now +thought. "Is it worth thinking or speaking of it at such a moment? +At a time of such love, such rapture, and such self-sacrifice, what do +any of our quarrels and affronts matter? I love and forgive +everybody now." + +When the Emperor had passed nearly all the regiments, the troops +began a ceremonial march past him, and Rostov on Bedouin, recently +purchased from Denisov, rode past too, at the rear of his squadron- +that is, alone and in full view of the Emperor. + +Before he reached him, Rostov, who was a splendid horseman, +spurred Bedouin twice and successfully put him to the showy trot in +which the animal went when excited. Bending his foaming muzzle to +his chest, his tail extended, Bedouin, as if also conscious of the +Emperor's eye upon him, passed splendidly, lifting his feet with a +high and graceful action, as if flying through the air without +touching the ground. + +Rostov himself, his legs well back and his stomach drawn in and +feeling himself one with his horse, rode past the Emperor with a +frowning but blissful face "like a vewy devil," as Denisov expressed +it. + +"Fine fellows, the Pavlograds!" remarked the Emperor. + +"My God, how happy I should be if he ordered me to leap into the +fire this instant!" thought Rostov. + +When the review was over, the newly arrived officers, and also +Kutuzov's, collected in groups and began to talk about the awards, +about the Austrians and their uniforms, about their lines, about +Bonaparte, and how badly the latter would fare now, especially if +the Essen corps arrived and Prussia took our side. + +But the talk in every group was chiefly about the Emperor Alexander. +His every word and movement was described with ecstasy. + +They all had but one wish: to advance as soon as possible against +the enemy under the Emperor's command. Commanded by the Emperor +himself they could not fail to vanquish anyone, be it whom it might: +so thought Rostov and most of the officers after the review. + +All were then more confident of victory than the winning of two +battles would have made them. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The day after the review, Boris, in his best uniform and with his +comrade Berg's best wishes for success, rode to Olmutz to see +Bolkonski, wishing to profit by his friendliness and obtain for +himself the best post he could--preferably that of adjutant to some +important personage, a position in the army which seemed to him most +attractive. "It is all very well for Rostov, whose father sends him +ten thousand rubles at a time, to talk about not wishing to cringe +to anybody and not be anyone's lackey, but I who have nothing but my +brains have to make a career and must not miss opportunities, but must +avail myself of them!" he reflected. + +He did not find Prince Andrew in Olmutz that day, but the appearance +of the town where the headquarters and the diplomatic corps were +stationed and the two Emperors were living with their suites, +households, and courts only strengthened his desire to belong to +that higher world. + +He knew no one, and despite his smart Guardsman's uniform, all these +exalted personages passing in the streets in their elegant carriages +with their plumes, ribbons, and medals, both courtiers and military +men, seemed so immeasurably above him, an insignificant officer of the +Guards, that they not only did not wish to, but simply could not, be +aware of his existence. At the quarters of the commander in chief, +Kutuzov, where he inquired for Bolkonski, all the adjutants and even +the orderlies looked at him as if they wished to impress on him that a +great many officers like him were always coming there and that +everybody was heartily sick of them. In spite of this, or rather +because of it, next day, November 15, after dinner he again went to +Olmutz and, entering the house occupied by Kutuzov, asked for +Bolkonski. Prince Andrew was in and Boris was shown into a large +hall probably formerly used for dancing, but in which five beds now +stood, and furniture of various kinds: a table, chairs, and a +clavichord. One adjutant, nearest the door, was sitting at the table +in a Persian dressing gown, writing. Another, the red, stout +Nesvitski, lay on a bed with his arms under his head, laughing with an +officer who had sat down beside him. A third was playing a Viennese +waltz on the clavichord, while a fourth, lying on the clavichord, sang +the tune. Bolkonski was not there. None of these gentlemen changed his +position on seeing Boris. The one who was writing and whom Boris +addressed turned round crossly and told him Bolkonski was on duty +and that he should go through the door on the left into the +reception room if he wished to see him. Boris thanked him and went +to the reception room, where he found some ten officers and generals. + +When he entered, Prince Andrew, his eyes drooping contemptuously +(with that peculiar expression of polite weariness which plainly says, +"If it were not my duty I would not talk to you for a moment"), was +listening to an old Russian general with decorations, who stood very +erect, almost on tiptoe, with a soldier's obsequious expression on his +purple face, reporting something. + +"Very well, then, be so good as to wait," said Prince Andrew to +the general, in Russian, speaking with the French intonation he +affected when he wished to speak contemptuously, and noticing Boris, +Prince Andrew, paying no more heed to the general who ran after him +imploring him to hear something more, nodded and turned to him with +a cheerful smile. + +At that moment Boris clearly realized what he had before surmised, +that in the army, besides the subordination and discipline +prescribed in the military code, which he and the others knew in the +regiment, there was another, more important, subordination, which made +this tight-laced, purple-faced general wait respectfully while Captain +Prince Andrew, for his own pleasure, chose to chat with Lieutenant +Drubetskoy. More than ever was Boris resolved to serve in future not +according to the written code, but under this unwritten law. He felt +now that merely by having been recommended to Prince Andrew he had +already risen above the general who at the front had the power to +annihilate him, a lieutenant of the Guards. Prince Andrew came up to +him and took his hand. + +"I am very sorry you did not find me in yesterday. I was fussing +about with Germans all day. We went with Weyrother to survey the +dispositions. When Germans start being accurate, there's no end to +it!" + +Boris smiled, as if he understood what Prince Andrew was alluding to +as something generally known. But it the first time he had heard +Weyrother's name, or even the term "dispositions." + +"Well, my dear fellow, so you still want to be an adjutant? I have +been thinking about you." + +"Yes, I was thinking"--for some reason Boris could not help +blushing--"of asking the commander in chief. He has had a letter +from Prince Kuragin about me. I only wanted to ask because I fear +the Guards won't be in action," he added as if in apology. + +"All right, all right. We'll talk it over," replied Prince Andrew. +"Only let me report this gentleman's business, and I shall be at +your disposal." + +While Prince Andrew went to report about the purple-faced general, +that gentleman--evidently not sharing Boris' conception of the +advantages of the unwritten code of subordination--looked so fixedly +at the presumptuous lieutenant who had prevented his finishing what he +had to say to the adjutant that Boris felt uncomfortable. He turned +away and waited impatiently for Prince Andrew's return from the +commander in chief's room. + +"You see, my dear fellow, I have been thinking about you," said +Prince Andrew when they had gone into the large room where the +clavichord was. "It's no use your going to the commander in chief. +He would say a lot of pleasant things, ask you to dinner" ("That would +not be bad as regards the unwritten code," thought Boris), "but +nothing more would come of it. There will soon be a battalion of us +aides-de-camp and adjutants! But this is what we'll do: I have a +good friend, an adjutant general and an excellent fellow, Prince +Dolgorukov; and though you may not know it, the fact is that now +Kutuzov with his staff and all of us count for nothing. Everything +is now centered round the Emperor. So we will go to Dolgorukov; I have +to go there anyhow and I have already spoken to him about you. We +shall see whether he cannot attach you to himself or find a place +for you somewhere nearer the sun." + +Prince Andrew always became specially keen when he had to guide a +young man and help him to worldly success. Under cover of obtaining +help of this kind for another, which from pride he would never +accept for himself, he kept in touch with the circle which confers +success and which attracted him. He very readily took up Boris' +cause and went with him to Dolgorukov. + +It was late in the evening when they entered the palace at Olmutz +occupied by the Emperors and their retinues. + +That same day a council of war had been held in which all the +members of the Hofkriegsrath and both Emperors took part. At that +council, contrary to the views of the old generals Kutuzov and +Prince Schwartzenberg, it had been decided to advance immediately +and give battle to Bonaparte. The council of war was just over when +Prince Andrew accompanied by Boris arrived at the palace to find +Dolgorukov. Everyone at headquarters was still under the spell of +the day's council, at which the party of the young had triumphed. +The voices of those who counseled delay and advised waiting for +something else before advancing had been so completely silenced and +their arguments confuted by such conclusive evidence of the advantages +of attacking that what had been discussed at the council--the coming +battle and the victory that would certainly result from it--no +longer seemed to be in the future but in the past. All the +advantages were on our side. Our enormous forces, undoubtedly superior +to Napoleon's, were concentrated in one place, the troops inspired +by the Emperors' presence were eager for action. The strategic +position where the operations would take place was familiar in all its +details to the Austrian General Weyrother: a lucky accident had +ordained that the Austrian army should maneuver the previous year on +the very fields where the French had now to be fought; the adjacent +locality was known and shown in every detail on the maps, and +Bonaparte, evidently weakened, was undertaking nothing. + +Dolgorukov, one of the warmest advocates of an attack, had just +returned from the council, tired and exhausted but eager and proud +of the victory that had been gained. Prince Andrew introduced his +protege, but Prince Dolgorukov politely and firmly pressing his hand +said nothing to Boris and, evidently unable to suppress the thoughts +which were uppermost in his mind at that moment, addressed Prince +Andrew in French. + +"Ah, my dear fellow, what a battle we have gained! God grant that +the one that will result from it will be as victorious! However, +dear fellow," he said abruptly and eagerly, "I must confess to +having been unjust to the Austrians and especially to Weyrother. +What exactitude, what minuteness, what knowledge of the locality, what +foresight for every eventuality, every possibility even to the +smallest detail! No, my dear fellow, no conditions better than our +present ones could have been devised. This combination of Austrian +precision with Russian valor--what more could be wished for?" + +"So the attack is definitely resolved on?" asked Bolkonski. + +"And do you know, my dear fellow, it seems to me that Bonaparte +has decidedly lost bearings, you know that a letter was received +from him today for the Emperor." Dolgorukov smiled significantly. + +"Is that so? And what did he say?" inquired Bolkonski. + +"What can he say? Tra-di-ri-di-ra and so on... merely to gain +time. I tell you he is in our hands, that's certain! But what was most +amusing," he continued, with a sudden, good-natured laugh, "was that +we could not think how to address the reply! If not as 'Consul' and of +course not as 'Emperor,' it seemed to me it should be to 'General +Bonaparte.'" + +"But between not recognizing him as Emperor and calling him +General Bonaparte, there is a difference," remarked Bolkonski. + +"That's just it," interrupted Dolgorukov quickly, laughing. "You +know Bilibin--he's a very clever fellow. He suggested addressing him +as 'Usurper and Enemy of Mankind.'" + +Dolgorukov laughed merrily. + +"Only that?" said Bolkonski. + +"All the same, it was Bilibin who found a suitable form for the +address. He is a wise and clever fellow." + +"What was it?" + +"To the Head of the French Government... Au chef du gouvernement +francais," said Dolgorukov, with grave satisfaction. "Good, wasn't +it?" + +"Yes, but he will dislike it extremely," said Bolkonski. + +"Oh yes, very much! My brother knows him, he's dined with him--the +present Emperor--more than once in Paris, and tells me he never met +a more cunning or subtle diplomatist--you know, a combination of +French adroitness and Italian play-acting! Do you know the tale +about him and Count Markov? Count Markov was the only man who knew how +to handle him. You know the story of the handkerchief? It is +delightful!" + +And the talkative Dolgorukov, turning now to Boris, now to Prince +Andrew, told how Bonaparte wishing to test Markov, our ambassador, +purposely dropped a handkerchief in front of him and stood looking +at Markov, probably expecting Markov to pick it up for him, and how +Markov immediately dropped his own beside it and picked it up +without touching Bonaparte's. + +"Delightful!" said Bolkonski. "But I have come to you, Prince, as +a petitioner on behalf of this young man. You see..." but before +Prince Andrew could finish, an aide-de-camp came in to summon +Dolgorukov to the Emperor. + +"Oh, what a nuisance," said Dolgorukov, getting up hurriedly and +pressing the hands of Prince Andrew and Boris. "You know I should be +very glad to do all in my power both for you and for this dear young +man." Again he pressed the hand of the latter with an expression of +good-natured, sincere, and animated levity. "But you see... another +time!" + +Boris was excited by the thought of being so close to the higher +powers as he felt himself to be at that moment. He was conscious +that here he was in contact with the springs that set in motion the +enormous movements of the mass of which in his regiment he felt +himself a tiny, obedient, and insignificant atom. They followed Prince +Dolgorukov out into the corridor and met--coming out of the door of +the Emperor's room by which Dolgorukov had entered--a short man in +civilian clothes with a clever face and sharply projecting jaw +which, without spoiling his face, gave him a peculiar vivacity and +shiftiness of expression. This short man nodded to Dolgorukov as to an +intimate friend and stared at Prince Andrew with cool intensity, +walking straight toward him and evidently expecting him to bow or to +step out of his way. Prince Andrew did neither: a look of animosity +appeared on his face and the other turned away and went down the +side of the corridor. + +"Who was that?" asked Boris. + +"He is one of the most remarkable, but to me most unpleasant of men- +the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Prince Adam Czartoryski.... It is +such men as he who decide the fate of nations," added Bolkonski with a +sigh he could not suppress, as they passed out of the palace. + +Next day, the army began its campaign, and up to the very battle +of Austerlitz, Boris was unable to see either Prince Andrew or +Dolgorukov again and remained for a while with the Ismaylov regiment. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +At dawn on the sixteenth of November, Denisov's squadron, in which +Nicholas Rostov served and which was in Prince Bagration's detachment, +moved from the place where it had spent the night, advancing into +action as arranged, and after going behind other columns for about two +thirds of a mile was stopped on the highroad. Rostov saw the +Cossacks and then the first and second squadrons of hussars and +infantry battalions and artillery pass by and go forward and then +Generals Bagration and Dolgorukov ride past with their adjutants. +All the fear before action which he had experienced as previously, all +the inner struggle to conquer that fear, all his dreams of +distinguishing himself as a true hussar in this battle, had been +wasted. Their squadron remained in reserve and Nicholas Rostov spent +that day in a dull and wretched mood. At nine in the morning, he heard +firing in front and shouts of hurrah, and saw wounded being brought +back (there were not many of them), and at last he saw how a whole +detachment of French cavalry was brought in, convoyed by a sontnya +of Cossacks. Evidently the affair was over and, though not big, had +been a successful engagement. The men and officers returning spoke +of a brilliant victory, of the occupation of the town of Wischau and +the capture of a whole French squadron. The day was bright and sunny +after a sharp night frost, and the cheerful glitter of that autumn day +was in keeping with the news of victory which was conveyed, not only +by the tales of those who had taken part in it, but also by the joyful +expression on the faces of soldiers, officers, generals, and +adjutants, as they passed Rostov going or coming. And Nicholas, who +had vainly suffered all the dread that precedes a battle and had spent +that happy day in inactivity, was all the more depressed. + +"Come here, Wostov. Let's dwink to dwown our gwief!" shouted +Denisov, who had settled down by the roadside with a flask and some +food. + +The officers gathered round Denisov's canteen, eating and talking. + +"There! They are bringing another!" cried one of the officers, +indicating a captive French dragoon who was being brought in on foot +by two Cossacks. + +One of them was leading by the bridle a fine large French horse he +had taken from the prisoner. + +"Sell us that horse!" Denisov called out to the Cossacks. + +"If you like, your honor!" + +The officers got up and stood round the Cossacks and their prisoner. +The French dragoon was a young Alsatian who spoke French with a German +accent. He was breathless with agitation, his face was red, and when +he heard some French spoken he at once began speaking to the officers, +addressing first one, then another. He said he would not have been +taken, it was not his fault but the corporal's who had sent him to +seize some horsecloths, though he had told him the Russians were +there. And at every word he added: "But don't hurt my little horse!" +and stroked the animal. It was plain that he did not quite grasp where +he was. Now he excused himself for having been taken prisoner and now, +imagining himself before his own officers, insisted on his soldierly +discipline and zeal in the service. He brought with him into our +rearguard all the freshness of atmosphere of the French army, which +was so alien to us. + +The Cossacks sold the horse for two gold pieces, and Rostov, being +the richest of the officers now that he had received his money, bought +it. + +"But don't hurt my little horse!" said the Alsatian good-naturedly +to Rostov when the animal was handed over to the hussar. + +Rostov smilingly reassured the dragoon and gave him money. + +"Alley! Alley!" said the Cossack, touching the prisoner's arm to +make him go on. + +"The Emperor! The Emperor!" was suddenly heard among the hussars. + +All began to run and bustle, and Rostov saw coming up the road +behind him several riders with white plumes in their hats. In a moment +everyone was in his place, waiting. + +Rostov did not know or remember how he ran to his place and mounted. +Instantly his regret at not having been in action and his dejected +mood amid people of whom he was weary had gone, instantly every +thought of himself had vanished. He was filled with happiness at his +nearness to the Emperor. He felt that this nearness by itself made +up to him for the day he had lost. He was happy as a lover when the +longed-for moment of meeting arrives. Not daring to look round and +without looking round, he was ecstatically conscious of his +approach. He felt it not only from the sound of the hoofs of the +approaching cavalcade, but because as he drew near everything grew +brighter, more joyful, more significant, and more festive around +him. Nearer and nearer to Rostov came that sun shedding beams of +mild and majestic light around, and already he felt himself +enveloped in those beams, he heard his voice, that kindly, calm, and +majestic voice that was yet so simple! And as if in accord with +Rostov's feeling, there was a deathly stillness amid which was heard +the Emperor's voice. + +"The Pavlograd hussars?" he inquired. + +"The reserves, sire!" replied a voice, a very human one compared +to that which had said: "The Pavlograd hussars?" + +The Emperor drew level with Rostov and halted. Alexander's face +was even more beautiful than it had been three days before at the +review. It shone with such gaiety and youth, such innocent youth, that +it suggested the liveliness of a fourteen-year-old boy, and yet it was +the face of the majestic Emperor. Casually, while surveying the +squadron, the Emperor's eyes met Rostov's and rested on them for not +more than two seconds. Whether or no the Emperor understood what was +going on in Rostov's soul (it seemed to Rostov that he understood +everything), at any rate his light-blue eyes gazed for about two +seconds into Rostov's face. A gentle, mild light poured from them. +Then all at once he raised his eyebrows, abruptly touched his horse +with his left foot, and galloped on. + +The younger Emperor could not restrain his wish to be present at the +battle and, in spite of the remonstrances of his courtiers, at +twelve o'clock left the third column with which he had been and +galloped toward the vanguard. Before he came up with the hussars, +several adjutants met him with news of the successful result of the +action. + +This battle, which consisted in the capture of a French squadron, +was represented as a brilliant victory over the French, and so the +Emperor and the whole army, especially while the smoke hung over the +battlefield, believed that the French had been defeated and were +retreating against their will. A few minutes after the Emperor had +passed, the Pavlograd division was ordered to advance. In Wischau +itself, a petty German town, Rostov saw the Emperor again. In the +market place, where there had been some rather heavy firing before the +Emperor's arrival, lay several killed and wounded soldiers whom +there had not been time to move. The Emperor, surrounded by his +suite of officers and courtiers, was riding a bobtailed chestnut mare, +a different one from that which he had ridden at the review, and +bending to one side he gracefully held a gold lorgnette to his eyes +and looked at a soldier who lay prone, with blood on his uncovered +head. The wounded soldier was so dirty, coarse, and revolting that his +proximity to the Emperor shocked Rostov. Rostov saw how the +Emperor's rather round shoulders shuddered as if a cold shiver had run +down them, how his left foot began convulsively tapping the horse's +side with the spur, and how the well-trained horse looked round +unconcerned and did not stir. An adjutant, dismounting, lifted the +soldier under the arms to place him on a stretcher that had been +brought. The soldier groaned. + +"Gently, gently! Can't you do it more gently?" said the Emperor +apparently suffering more than the dying soldier, and he rode away. + +Rostov saw tears filling the Emperor's eyes and heard him, as he was +riding away, say to Czartoryski: "What a terrible thing war is: what a +terrible thing! Quelle terrible chose que la guerre!" + +The troops of the vanguard were stationed before Wischau, within +sight of the enemy's lines, which all day long had yielded ground to +us at the least firing. The Emperor's gratitude was announced to the +vanguard, rewards were promised, and the men received a double +ration of vodka. The campfires crackled and the soldiers' songs +resounded even more merrily than on the previous night. Denisov +celebrated his promotion to the rank of major, and Rostov, who had +already drunk enough, at the end of the feast proposed the Emperor's +health. "Not 'our Sovereign, the Emperor,' as they say at official +dinners," said he, "but the health of our Sovereign, that good, +enchanting, and great man! Let us drink to his health and to the +certain defeat of the French!" + +"If we fought before," he said, "not letting the French pass, as +at Schon Grabern, what shall we not do now when he is at the front? We +will all die for him gladly! Is it not so, gentlemen? Perhaps I am not +saying it right, I have drunk a good deal--but that is how I feel, and +so do you too! To the health of Alexander the First! Hurrah!" + +"Hurrah!" rang the enthusiastic voices of the officers. + +And the old cavalry captain, Kirsten, shouted enthusiastically and +no less sincerely than the twenty-year-old Rostov. + +When the officers had emptied and smashed their glasses, Kirsten +filled others and, in shirt sleeves and breeches, went glass in hand +to the soldiers' bonfires and with his long gray mustache, his white +chest showing under his open shirt, he stood in a majestic pose in the +light of the campfire, waving his uplifted arm. + +"Lads! here's to our Sovereign, the Emperor, and victory over our +enemies! Hurrah!" he exclaimed in his dashing, old, hussar's baritone. + +The hussars crowded round and responded heartily with loud shouts. + +Late that night, when all had separated, Denisov with his short hand +patted his favorite, Rostov, on the shoulder. + +"As there's no one to fall in love with on campaign, he's fallen +in love with the Tsar," he said. + +"Denisov, don't make fun of it!" cried Rostov. "It is such a +lofty, beautiful feeling, such a..." + +"I believe it, I believe it, fwiend, and I share and appwove..." + +"No, you don't understand!" + +And Rostov got up and went wandering among the campfires, dreaming +of what happiness it would be to die--not in saving the Emperor's life +(he did not even dare to dream of that), but simply to die before +his eyes. He really was in love with the Tsar and the glory of the +Russian arms and the hope of future triumph. And he was not the only +man to experience that feeling during those memorable days preceding +the battle of Austerlitz: nine tenths of the men in the Russian army +were then in love, though less ecstatically, with their Tsar and the +glory of the Russian arms. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +The next day the Emperor stopped at Wischau, and Villier, his +physician, was repeatedly summoned to see him. At headquarters and +among the troops near by the news spread that the Emperor was +unwell. He ate nothing and had slept badly that night, those around +him reported. The cause of this indisposition was the strong +impression made on his sensitive mind by the sight of the killed and +wounded. + +At daybreak on the seventeenth, a French officer who had come with a +flag of truce, demanding an audience with the Russian Emperor, was +brought into Wischau from our outposts. This officer was Savary. The +Emperor had only just fallen asleep and so Savary had to wait. At +midday he was admitted to the Emperor, and an hour later he rode off +with Prince Dolgorukov to the advanced post of the French army. + +It was rumored that Savary had been sent to propose to Alexander a +meeting with Napoleon. To the joy and pride of the whole army, a +personal interview was refused, and instead of the Sovereign, Prince +Dolgorukov, the victor at Wischau, was sent with Savary to negotiate +with Napoleon if, contrary to expectations, these negotiations were +actuated by a real desire for peace. + +Toward evening Dolgorukov came back, went straight to the Tsar, +and remained alone with him for a long time. + +On the eighteenth and nineteenth of November, the army advanced +two days' march and the enemy's outposts after a brief interchange +of shots retreated. In the highest army circles from midday on the +nineteenth, a great, excitedly bustling activity began which lasted +till the morning of the twentieth, when the memorable battle of +Austerlitz was fought. + +Till midday on the nineteenth, the activity--the eager talk, running +to and fro, and dispatching of adjutants--was confined to the +Emperor's headquarters. But on the afternoon of that day, this +activity reached Kutuzov's headquarters and the staffs of the +commanders of columns. By evening, the adjutants had spread it to +all ends and parts of the army, and in the night from the nineteenth +to the twentieth, the whole eighty thousand allied troops rose from +their bivouacs to the hum of voices, and the army swayed and started +in one enormous mass six miles long. + +The concentrated activity which had begun at the Emperor's +headquarters in the morning and had started the whole movement that +followed was like the first movement of the main wheel of a large +tower clock. One wheel slowly moved, another was set in motion, and +a third, and wheels began to revolve faster and faster, levers and +cogwheels to work, chimes to play, figures to pop out, and the hands +to advance with regular motion as a result of all that activity. + +Just as in the mechanism of a clock, so in the mechanism of the +military machine, an impulse once given leads to the final result; and +just as indifferently quiescent till the moment when motion is +transmitted to them are the parts of the mechanism which the impulse +has not yet reached. Wheels creak on their axles as the cogs engage +one another and the revolving pulleys whirr with the rapidity of their +movement, but a neighboring wheel is as quiet and motionless as though +it were prepared to remain so for a hundred years; but the moment +comes when the lever catches it and obeying the impulse that wheel +begins to creak and joins in the common motion the result and aim of +which are beyond its ken. + +Just as in a clock, the result of the complicated motion of +innumerable wheels and pulleys is merely a slow and regular movement +of the hands which show the time, so the result of all the complicated +human activities of 160,000 Russians and French--all their passions, +desires, remorse, humiliations, sufferings, outbursts of pride, +fear, and enthusiasm--was only the loss of the battle of Austerlitz, +the so-called battle of the three Emperors--that is to say, a slow +movement of the hand on the dial of human history. + +Prince Andrew was on duty that day and in constant attendance on the +commander in chief. + +At six in the evening, Kutuzov went to the Emperor's headquarters +and after staying but a short time with the Tsar went to see the grand +marshal of the court, Count Tolstoy. + +Bolkonski took the opportunity to go in to get some details of the +coming action from Dolgorukov. He felt that Kutuzov was upset and +dissatisfied about something and that at headquarters they were +dissatisfied with him, and also that at the Emperor's headquarters +everyone adopted toward him the tone of men who know something +others do not know: he therefore wished to speak to Dolgorukov. + +"Well, how d'you do, my dear fellow?" said Dolgorukov, who was +sitting at tea with Bilibin. "The fete is for tomorrow. How is your +old fellow? Out of sorts?" + +"I won't say he is out of sorts, but I fancy he would like to be +heard." + +"But they heard him at the council of war and will hear him when +he talks sense, but to temporize and wait for something now when +Bonaparte fears nothing so much as a general battle is impossible." + +"Yes, you have seen him?" said Prince Andrew. "Well, what is +Bonaparte like? How did he impress you?" + +"Yes, I saw him, and am convinced that he fears nothing so much as a +general engagement," repeated Dolgorukov, evidently prizing this +general conclusion which he had arrived at from his interview with +Napoleon. "If he weren't afraid of a battle why did he ask for that +interview? Why negotiate, and above all why retreat, when to retreat +is so contrary to his method of conducting war? Believe me, he is +afraid, afraid of a general battle. His hour has come! Mark my words!" + +"But tell me, what is he like, eh?" said Prince Andrew again. + +"He is a man in a gray overcoat, very anxious that I should call him +'Your Majesty,' but who, to his chagrin, got no title from me! +That's the sort of man he is, and nothing more," replied Dolgorukov, +looking round at Bilibin with a smile. + +"Despite my great respect for old Kutuzov," he continued, "we should +be a nice set of fellows if we were to wait about and so give him a +chance to escape, or to trick us, now that we certainly have him in +our hands! No, we mustn't forget Suvorov and his rule--not to put +yourself in a position to be attacked, but yourself to attack. Believe +me in war the energy of young men often shows the way better than +all the experience of old Cunctators." + +"But in what position are we going to attack him? I have been at the +outposts today and it is impossible to say where his chief forces +are situated," said Prince Andrew. + +He wished to explain to Dolgorukov a plan of attack he had himself +formed. + +"Oh, that is all the same," Dolgorukov said quickly, and getting +up he spread a map on the table. "All eventualities have been +foreseen. If he is standing before Brunn..." + +And Prince Dolgorukov rapidly but indistinctly explained Weyrother's +plan of a flanking movement. + +Prince Andrew began to reply and to state his own plan, which +might have been as good as Weyrother's, but for the disadvantage +that Weyrother's had already been approved. As soon as Prince Andrew +began to demonstrate the defects of the latter and the merits of his +own plan, Prince Dolgorukov ceased to listen to him and gazed +absent-mindedly not at the map, but at Prince Andrew's face. + +"There will be a council of war at Kutuzov's tonight, though; you +can say all this there," remarked Dolgorukov. + +"I will do so," said Prince Andrew, moving away from the map. + +"Whatever are you bothering about, gentlemen?" said Bilibin, who, +till then, had listened with an amused smile to their conversation and +now was evidently ready with a joke. "Whether tomorrow brings +victory or defeat, the glory of our Russian arms is secure. Except +your Kutuzov, there is not a single Russian in command of a column! +The commanders are: Herr General Wimpfen, le Comte de Langeron, le +Prince de Lichtenstein, le Prince, de Hohenlohe, and finally +Prishprish, and so on like all those Polish names." + +"Be quiet, backbiter!" said Dolgorukov. "It is not true; there are +now two Russians, Miloradovich, and Dokhturov, and there would be a +third, Count Arakcheev, if his nerves were not too weak." + +"However, I think General Kutuzov has come out," said Prince Andrew. +"I wish you good luck and success, gentlemen!" he added and went out +after shaking hands with Dolgorukov and Bilibin. + +On the way home, Prince Andrew could not refrain from asking +Kutuzov, who was sitting silently beside him, what he thought of +tomorrow's battle. + +Kutuzov looked sternly at his adjutant and, after a pause, +replied: "I think the battle will be lost, and so I told Count Tolstoy +and asked him to tell the Emperor. What do you think he replied? 'But, +my dear general, I am engaged with rice and cutlets, look after +military matters yourself!' Yes... That was the answer I got!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Shortly after nine o'clock that evening, Weyrother drove with his +plans to Kutuzov's quarters where the council of war was to be held. +All the commanders of columns were summoned to the commander in +chief's and with the exception of Prince Bagration, who declined to +come, were all there at the appointed time. + +Weyrother, who was in full control of the proposed battle, by his +eagerness and briskness presented a marked contrast to the +dissatisfied and drowsy Kutuzov, who reluctantly played the part of +chairman and president of the council of war. Weyrother evidently felt +himself to be at the head of a movement that had already become +unrestrainable. He was like a horse running downhill harnessed to a +heavy cart. Whether he was pulling it or being pushed by it he did not +know, but rushed along at headlong speed with no time to consider what +this movement might lead to. Weyrother had been twice that evening +to the enemy's picket line to reconnoiter personally, and twice to the +Emperors, Russian and Austrian, to report and explain, and to his +headquarters where he had dictated the dispositions in German, and +now, much exhausted, he arrived at Kutuzov's. + +He was evidently so busy that he even forgot to be polite to the +commander in chief. He interrupted him, talked rapidly and +indistinctly, without looking at the man he was addressing, and did +not reply to questions put to him. He was bespattered with mud and had +a pitiful, weary, and distracted air, though at the same time he was +haughty and self-confident. + +Kutuzov was occupying a nobleman's castle of modest dimensions +near Ostralitz. In the large drawing room which had become the +commander in chief's office were gathered Kutuzov himself, +Weyrother, and the members of the council of war. They were drinking +tea, and only awaited Prince Bagration to begin the council. At last +Bagration's orderly came with the news that the prince could not +attend. Prince Andrew came in to inform the commander in chief of this +and, availing himself of permission previously given him by Kutuzov to +be present at the council, he remained in the room. + +"Since Prince Bagration is not coming, we may begin," said +Weyrother, hurriedly rising from his seat and going up to the table on +which an enormous map of the environs of Brunn was spread out. + +Kutuzov, with his uniform unbuttoned so that his fat neck bulged +over his collar as if escaping, was sitting almost asleep in a low +chair, with his podgy old hands resting symmetrically on its arms. +At the sound of Weyrother's voice, he opened his one eye with an +effort. + +"Yes, yes, if you please! It is already late," said he, and +nodding his head he let it droop and again closed his eye. + +If at first the members of the council thought that Kutuzov was +pretending to sleep, the sounds his nose emitted during the reading +that followed proved that the commander in chief at that moment was +absorbed by a far more serious matter than a desire to show his +contempt for the dispositions or anything else--he was engaged in +satisfying the irresistible human need for sleep. He really was +asleep. Weyrother, with the gesture of a man too busy to lose a +moment, glanced at Kutuzov and, having convinced himself that he was +asleep, took up a paper and in a loud, monotonous voice began to +read out the dispositions for the impending battle, under a heading +which he also read out: + +"Dispositions for an attack on the enemy position behind Kobelnitz +and Sokolnitz, November 30, 1805." + +The dispositions were very complicated and difficult. They began +as follows: + +"As the enemy's left wing rests on wooded hills and his right +extends along Kobelnitz and Sokolnitz behind the ponds that are there, +while we, on the other hand, with our left wing by far outflank his +right, it is advantageous to attack the enemy's latter wing especially +if we occupy the villages of Sokolnitz and Kobelnitz, whereby we can +both fall on his flank and pursue him over the plain between +Schlappanitz and the Thuerassa forest, avoiding the defiles of +Schlappanitz and Bellowitz which cover the enemy's front. For this +object it is necessary that... The first column marches... The +second column marches... The third column marches..." and so on, +read Weyrother. + +The generals seemed to listen reluctantly to the difficult +dispositions. The tall, fair-haired General Buxhowden stood, leaning +his back against the wall, his eyes fixed on a burning candle, and +seemed not to listen or even to wish to be thought to listen. +Exactly opposite Weyrother, with his glistening wide-open eyes fixed +upon him and his mustache twisted upwards, sat the ruddy +Miloradovich in a military pose, his elbows turned outwards, his hands +on his knees, and his shoulders raised. He remained stubbornly silent, +gazing at Weyrother's face, and only turned away his eyes when the +Austrian chief of staff finished reading. Then Miloradovich looked +round significantly at the other generals. But one could not tell from +that significant look whether he agreed or disagreed and was satisfied +or not with the arrangements. Next to Weyrother sat Count Langeron +who, with a subtle smile that never left his typically southern French +face during the whole time of the reading, gazed at his delicate +fingers which rapidly twirled by its corners a gold snuffbox on +which was a portrait. In the middle of one of the longest sentences, +he stopped the rotary motion of the snuffbox, raised his head, and +with inimical politeness lurking in the corners of his thin lips +interrupted Weyrother, wishing to say something. But the Austrian +general, continuing to read, frowned angrily and jerked his elbows, as +if to say: "You can tell me your views later, but now be so good as to +look at the map and listen." Langeron lifted his eyes with an +expression of perplexity, turned round to Miloradovich as if seeking +an explanation, but meeting the latter's impressive but meaningless +gaze drooped his eyes sadly and again took to twirling his snuffbox. + +"A geography lesson!" he muttered as if to himself, but loud +enough to be heard. + +Przebyszewski, with respectful but dignified politeness, held his +hand to his ear toward Weyrother, with the air of a man absorbed in +attention. Dohkturov, a little man, sat opposite Weyrother, with an +assiduous and modest mien, and stooping over the outspread map +conscientiously studied the dispositions and the unfamiliar +locality. He asked Weyrother several times to repeat words he had +not clearly heard and the difficult names of villages. Weyrother +complied and Dohkturov noted them down. + +When the reading which lasted more than an hour was over, Langeron +again brought his snuffbox to rest and, without looking at Weyrother +or at anyone in particular, began to say how difficult it was to carry +out such a plan in which the enemy's position was assumed to be known, +whereas it was perhaps not known, since the enemy was in movement. +Langeron's objections were valid but it was obvious that their chief +aim was to show General Weyrother--who had read his dispositions +with as much self-confidence as if he were addressing school children- +that he had to do, not with fools, but with men who could teach him +something in military matters. + +When the monotonous sound of Weyrother's voice ceased, Kutuzov +opened his eye as a miller wakes up when the soporific drone of the +mill wheel is interrupted. He listened to what Langeron said, as if +remarking, "So you are still at that silly business!" quickly closed +his eye again, and let his head sink still lower. + +Langeron, trying as virulently as possible to sting Weyrother's +vanity as author of the military plan, argued that Bonaparte might +easily attack instead of being attacked, and so render the whole of +this plan perfectly worthless. Weyrother met all objections with a +firm and contemptuous smile, evidently prepared beforehand to meet all +objections be they what they might. + +"If he could attack us, he would have done so today," said he. + +"So you think he is powerless?" said Langeron. + +"He has forty thousand men at most," replied Weyrother, with the +smile of a doctor to whom an old wife wishes to explain the +treatment of a case. + +"In that case he is inviting his doom by awaiting our attack," +said Langeron, with a subtly ironical smile, again glancing round +for support to Miloradovich who was near him. + +But Miloradovich was at that moment evidently thinking of anything +rather than of what the generals were disputing about. + +"Ma foi!" said he, "tomorrow we shall see all that on the +battlefield." + +Weyrother again gave that smile which seemed to say that to him it +was strange and ridiculous to meet objections from Russian generals +and to have to prove to them what he had not merely convinced +himself of, but had also convinced the sovereign Emperors of. + +"The enemy has quenched his fires and a continual noise is heard +from his camp," said he. "What does that mean? Either he is +retreating, which is the only thing we need fear, or he is changing +his position." (He smiled ironically.) "But even if he also took up +a position in the Thuerassa, he merely saves us a great deal of +trouble and all our arrangements to the minutest detail remain the +same." + +"How is that?..." began Prince Andrew, who had for long been waiting +an opportunity to express his doubts. + +Kutuzov here woke up, coughed heavily, and looked round at the +generals. + +"Gentlemen, the dispositions for tomorrow--or rather for today, +for it is past midnight--cannot now be altered," said he. "You have +heard them, and we shall all do our duty. But before a battle, there +is nothing more important..." he paused, "than to have a good sleep." + +He moved as if to rise. The generals bowed and retired. It was +past midnight. Prince Andrew went out. + + +The council of war, at which Prince Andrew had not been able to +express his opinion as he had hoped to, left on him a vague and uneasy +impression. Whether Dolgorukov and Weyrother, or Kutuzov, Langeron, +and the others who did not approve of the plan of attack, were +right--he did not know. "But was it really not possible for Kutuzov to +state his views plainly to the Emperor? Is it possible that on account +of court and personal considerations tens of thousands of lives, and +my life, my life," he thought, "must be risked?" + +"Yes, it is very likely that I shall be killed tomorrow," he +thought. And suddenly, at this thought of death, a whole series of +most distant, most intimate, memories rose in his imagination: he +remembered his last parting from his father and his wife; he +remembered the days when he first loved her. He thought of her +pregnancy and felt sorry for her and for himself, and in a nervously +emotional and softened mood he went out of the hut in which he was +billeted with Nesvitski and began to walk up and down before it. + +The night was foggy and through the fog the moonlight gleamed +mysteriously. "Yes, tomorrow, tomorrow!" he thought. "Tomorrow +everything may be over for me! All these memories will be no more, +none of them will have any meaning for me. Tomorrow perhaps, even +certainly, I have a presentiment that for the first time I shall +have to show all I can do." And his fancy pictured the battle, its +loss, the concentration of fighting at one point, and the hesitation +of all the commanders. And then that happy moment, that Toulon for +which he had so long waited, presents itself to him at last. He firmly +and clearly expresses his opinion to Kutuzov, to Weyrother, and to the +Emperors. All are struck by the justness of his views, but no one +undertakes to carry them out, so he takes a regiment, a division- +stipulates that no one is to interfere with his arrangements--leads +his division to the decisive point, and gains the victory alone. +"But death and suffering?" suggested another voice. Prince Andrew, +however, did not answer that voice and went on dreaming of his +triumphs. The dispositions for the next battle are planned by him +alone. Nominally he is only an adjutant on Kutuzov's staff, but he +does everything alone. The next battle is won by him alone. Kutuzov is +removed and he is appointed... "Well and then?" asked the other voice. +"If before that you are not ten times wounded, killed, or betrayed, +well... what then?..." "Well then," Prince Andrew answered himself, "I +don't know what will happen and don't want to know, and can't, but +if I want this--want glory, want to be known to men, want to be +loved by them, it is not my fault that I want it and want nothing +but that and live only for that. Yes, for that alone! I shall never +tell anyone, but, oh God! what am I to do if I love nothing but fame +and men's esteem? Death, wounds, the loss of family--I fear nothing. +And precious and dear as many persons are to me--father, sister, wife- +those dearest to me--yet dreadful and unnatural as it seems, I would +give them all at once for a moment of glory, of triumph over men, of +love from men I don't know and never shall know, for the love of these +men here," he thought, as he listened to voices in Kutuzov's +courtyard. The voices were those of the orderlies who were packing up; +one voice, probably a coachman's, was teasing Kutuzov's old cook +whom Prince Andrew knew, and who was called Tit. He was saying, +"Tit, I say, Tit!" + +"Well?" returned the old man. + +"Go, Tit, thresh a bit!" said the wag. + +"Oh, go to the devil!" called out a voice, drowned by the laughter +of the orderlies and servants. + +"All the same, I love and value nothing but triumph over them all, I +value this mystic power and glory that is floating here above me in +this mist!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +That same night, Rostov was with a platoon on skirmishing duty in +front of Bagration's detachment. His hussars were placed along the +line in couples and he himself rode along the line trying to master +the sleepiness that kept coming over him. An enormous space, with +our army's campfires dimly glowing in the fog, could be seen behind +him; in front of him was misty darkness. Rostov could see nothing, +peer as he would into that foggy distance: now something gleamed gray, +now there was something black, now little lights seemed to glimmer +where the enemy ought to be, now he fancied it was only something in +his own eyes. His eyes kept closing, and in his fancy appeared--now +the Emperor, now Denisov, and now Moscow memories--and he again +hurriedly opened his eyes and saw close before him the head and ears +of the horse he was riding, and sometimes, when he came within six +paces of them, the black figures of hussars, but in the distance was +still the same misty darkness. "Why not?... It might easily happen," +thought Rostov, "that the Emperor will meet me and give me an order as +he would to any other officer; he'll say: 'Go and find out what's +there.' There are many stories of his getting to know an officer in +just such a chance way and attaching him to himself! What if he gave +me a place near him? Oh, how I would guard him, how I would tell him +the truth, how I would unmask his deceivers!" And in order to +realize vividly his love devotion to the sovereign, Rostov pictured to +himself an enemy or a deceitful German, whom he would not only kill +with pleasure but whom he would slap in the face before the Emperor. +Suddenly a distant shout aroused him. He started and opened his eyes. + +"Where am I? Oh yes, in the skirmishing line... pass and +watchword--shaft, Olmutz. What a nuisance that our squadron will be in +reserve tomorrow," he thought. "I'll ask leave to go to the front, +this may be my only chance of seeing the Emperor. It won't be long now +before I am off duty. I'll take another turn and when I get back +I'll go to the general and ask him." He readjusted himself in the +saddle and touched up his horse to ride once more round his hussars. +It seemed to him that it was getting lighter. To the left he saw a +sloping descent lit up, and facing it a black knoll that seemed as +steep as a wall. On this knoll there was a white patch that Rostov +could not at all make out: was it a glade in the wood lit up by the +moon, or some unmelted snow, or some white houses? He even thought +something moved on that white spot. "I expect it's snow... that +spot... a spot--une tache," he thought. "There now... it's not a +tache... Natasha... sister, black eyes... Na... tasha... (Won't she be +surprised when I tell her how I've seen the Emperor?) Natasha... +take my sabretache..."--"Keep to the right, your honor, there are +bushes here," came the voice of an hussar, past whom Rostov was riding +in the act of falling asleep. Rostov lifted his head that had sunk +almost to his horse's mane and pulled up beside the hussar. He was +succumbing to irresistible, youthful, childish drowsiness. "But what +was I thinking? I mustn't forget. How shall I speak to the Emperor? +No, that's not it--that's tomorrow. Oh yes! Natasha... sabretache... +saber them...Whom? The hussars... Ah, the hussars with mustaches. +Along the Tverskaya Street rode the hussar with mustaches... I thought +about him too, just opposite Guryev's house... Old Guryev.... Oh, +but Denisov's a fine fellow. But that's all nonsense. The chief +thing is that the Emperor is here. How he looked at me and wished to +say something, but dared not.... No, it was I who dared not. But +that's nonsense, the chief thing is not to forget the important +thing I was thinking of. Yes, Na-tasha, sabretache, oh, yes, yes! +That's right!" And his head once more sank to his horse's neck. All at +once it seemed to him that he was being fired at. "What? What? +What?... Cut them down! What?..." said Rostov, waking up. At the +moment he opened his eyes he heard in front of him, where the +enemy was, the long-drawn shouts of thousands of voices. His horse and +the horse of the hussar near him pricked their ears at these shouts. +Over there, where the shouting came from, a fire flared up and went +out again, then another, and all along the French line on the hill +fires flared up and the shouting grew louder and louder. Rostov +could hear the sound of French words but could not distinguish them. +The din of many voices was too great; all he could hear was: "ahahah!" +and "rrrr!" + +"What's that? What do you make of it?" said Rostov to the hussar +beside him. "That must be the enemy's camp!" + +The hussar did not reply. + +"Why, don't you hear it?" Rostov asked again, after waiting for a +reply. + +"Who can tell, your honor?" replied the hussar reluctantly. + +"From the direction, it must be the enemy," repeated Rostov. + +"It may be he or it may be nothing," muttered the hussar. "It's +dark... Steady!" he cried to his fidgeting horse. + +Rostov's horse was also getting restive: it pawed the frozen ground, +pricking its ears at the noise and looking at the lights. The shouting +grew still louder and merged into a general roar that only an army +of several thousand men could produce. The lights spread farther and +farther, probably along the line of the French camp. Rostov no +longer wanted to sleep. The gay triumphant shouting of the enemy +army had a stimulating effect on him. "Vive l'Empereur! L'Empereur!" +he now heard distinctly. + +"They can't be far off, probably just beyond the stream," he said to +the hussar beside him. + +The hussar only sighed without replying and coughed angrily. The +sound of horse's hoofs approaching at a trot along the line of hussars +was heard, and out of the foggy darkness the figure of a sergeant of +hussars suddenly appeared, looming huge as an elephant. + +"Your honor, the generals!" said the sergeant, riding up to Rostov. + +Rostov, still looking round toward the fires and the shouts, rode +with the sergeant to meet some mounted men who were riding along the +line. One was on a white horse. Prince Bagration and Prince Dolgorukov +with their adjutants had come to witness the curious phenomenon of the +lights and shouts in the enemy's camp. Rostov rode up to Bagration, +reported to him, and then joined the adjutants listening to what the +generals were saying. + +"Believe me," said Prince Dolgorukov, addressing Bagration, "it is +nothing but a trick! He has retreated and ordered the rearguard to +kindle fires and make a noise to deceive us." + +"Hardly," said Bagration. "I saw them this evening on that knoll; if +they had retreated they would have withdrawn from that too.... +Officer!" said Bagration to Rostov, "are the enemy's skirmishers still +there?" + +"They were there this evening, but now I don't know, your +excellency. Shall I go with some of my hussars to see?" replied +Rostov. + +Bagration stopped and, before replying, tried to see Rostov's face +in the mist. + +"Well, go and see," he said, after a pause. + +"Yes, sir." + +Rostov spurred his horse, called to Sergeant Fedchenko and two other +hussars, told them to follow him, and trotted downhill in the +direction from which the shouting came. He felt both frightened and +pleased to be riding alone with three hussars into that mysterious and +dangerous misty distance where no one had been before him. Bagration +called to him from the hill not to go beyond the stream, but Rostov +pretended not to hear him and did not stop but rode on and on, +continually mistaking bushes for trees and gullies for men and +continually discovering his mistakes. Having descended the hill at a +trot, he no longer saw either our own or the enemy's fires, but +heard the shouting of the French more loudly and distinctly. In the +valley he saw before him something like a river, but when he reached +it he found it was a road. Having come out onto the road he reined +in his horse, hesitating whether to ride along it or cross it and ride +over the black field up the hillside. To keep to the road which +gleamed white in the mist would have been safer because it would be +easier to see people coming along it. "Follow me!" said he, crossed +the road, and began riding up the hill at a gallop toward the point +where the French pickets had been standing that evening. + +"Your honor, there he is!" cried one of the hussars behind him. +And before Rostov had time to make out what the black thing was that +had suddenly appeared in the fog, there was a flash, followed by a +report, and a bullet whizzing high up in the mist with a plaintive +sound passed out of hearing. Another musket missed fire but flashed in +the pan. Rostov turned his horse and galloped back. Four more +reports followed at intervals, and the bullets passed somewhere in the +fog singing in different tones. Rostov reined in his horse, whose +spirits had risen, like his own, at the firing, and went back at a +footpace. "Well, some more! Some more!" a merry voice was saying in +his soul. But no more shots came. + +Only when approaching Bagration did Rostov let his horse gallop +again, and with his hand at the salute rode up to the general. + +Dolgorukov was still insisting that the French had retreated and had +only lit fires to deceive us. + +"What does that prove?" he was saying as Rostov rode up. "They might +retreat and leave the pickets." + +"It's plain that they have not all gone yet, Prince," said +Bagration. "Wait till tomorrow morning, we'll find out everything +tomorrow." + +"The picket is still on the hill, your excellency, just where it was +in the evening," reported Rostov, stooping forward with his hand at +the salute and unable to repress the smile of delight induced by his +ride and especially by the sound of the bullets. + +"Very good, very good," said Bagration. "Thank you, officer." + +"Your excellency," said Rostov, "may I ask a favor?" + +"What is it?" + +"Tomorrow our squadron is to be in reserve. May I ask to be attached +to the first squadron?" + +"What's your name?" + +"Count Rostov." + +"Oh, very well, you may stay in attendance on me." + +"Count Ilya Rostov's son?" asked Dolgorukov. + +But Rostov did not reply. + +"Then I may reckon on it, your excellency?" + +"I will give the order." + +"Tomorrow very likely I may be sent with some message to the +Emperor," thought Rostov. + +"Thank God!" + + +The fires and shouting in the enemy's army were occasioned by the +fact that while Napoleon's proclamation was being read to the troops +the Emperor himself rode round his bivouacs. The soldiers, on seeing +him, lit wisps of straw and ran after him, shouting, "Vive +l'Empereur!" Napoleon's proclamation was as follows: + + +Soldiers! The Russian army is advancing against you to avenge the +Austrian army of Ulm. They are the same battalions you broke at +Hollabrunn and have pursued ever since to this place. The position +we occupy is a strong one, and while they are marching to go round +me on the right they will expose a flank to me. Soldiers! I will +myself direct your battalions. I will keep out of fire if you with +your habitual valor carry disorder and confusion into the enemy's +ranks, but should victory be in doubt, even for a moment, you will see +your Emperor exposing himself to the first blows of the enemy, for +there must be no doubt of victory, especially on this day when what is +at stake is the honor of the French infantry, so necessary to the +honor of our nation. + +Do not break your ranks on the plea of removing the wounded! Let +every man be fully imbued with the thought that we must defeat these +hirelings of England, inspired by such hatred of our nation! This +victory will conclude our campaign and we can return to winter +quarters, where fresh French troops who are being raised in France +will join us, and the peace I shall conclude will be worthy of my +people, of you, and of myself. + +NAPOLEON + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +At five in the morning it was still quite dark. The troops of the +center, the reserves, and Bagration's right flank had not yet moved, +but on the left flank the columns of infantry, cavalry, and artillery, +which were to be the first to descend the heights to attack the French +right flank and drive it into the Bohemian mountains according to +plan, were already up and astir. The smoke of the campfires, into +which they were throwing everything superfluous, made the eyes +smart. It was cold and dark. The officers were hurriedly drinking +tea and breakfasting, the soldiers, munching biscuit and beating a +tattoo with their feet to warm themselves, gathering round the fires +throwing into the flames the remains of sheds, chairs, tables, wheels, +tubs, and everything that they did not want or could not carry away +with them. Austrian column guides were moving in and out among the +Russian troops and served as heralds of the advance. As soon as an +Austrian officer showed himself near a commanding officer's +quarters, the regiment began to move: the soldiers ran from the fires, +thrust their pipes into their boots, their bags into the carts, got +their muskets ready, and formed rank. The officers buttoned up their +coats, buckled on their swords and pouches, and moved along the +ranks shouting. The train drivers and orderlies harnessed and packed +the wagons and tied on the loads. The adjutants and battalion and +regimental commanders mounted, crossed themselves, gave final +instructions, orders, and commissions to the baggage men who +remained behind, and the monotonous tramp of thousands of feet +resounded. The column moved forward without knowing where and +unable, from the masses around them, the smoke and the increasing fog, +to see either the place they were leaving or that to which they were +going. + +A soldier on the march is hemmed in and borne along by his +regiment as much as a sailor is by his ship. However far he has +walked, whatever strange, unknown, and dangerous places he reaches, +just as a sailor is always surrounded by the same decks, masts, and +rigging of his ship, so the soldier always has around him the same +comrades, the same ranks, the same sergeant major Ivan Mitrich, the +same company dog Jack, and the same commanders. The sailor rarely +cares to know the latitude in which his ship is sailing, but on the +day of battle--heaven knows how and whence--a stern note of which +all are conscious sounds in the moral atmosphere of an army, +announcing the approach of something decisive and solemn, and +awakening in the men an unusual curiosity. On the day of battle the +soldiers excitedly try to get beyond the interests of their +regiment, they listen intently, look about, and eagerly ask concerning +what is going on around them. + +The fog had grown so dense that though it was growing light they +could not see ten paces ahead. Bushes looked like gigantic trees and +level ground like cliffs and slopes. Anywhere, on any side, one +might encounter an enemy invisible ten paces off. But the columns +advanced for a long time, always in the same fog, descending and +ascending hills, avoiding gardens and enclosures, going over new and +unknown ground, and nowhere encountering the enemy. On the contrary, +the soldiers became aware that in front, behind, and on all sides, +other Russian columns were moving in the same direction. Every soldier +felt glad to know that to the unknown place where he was going, many +more of our men were going too. + +"There now, the Kurskies have also gone past," was being said in the +ranks. + +"It's wonderful what a lot of our troops have gathered, lads! Last +night I looked at the campfires and there was no end of them. A +regular Moscow!" + +Though none of the column commanders rode up to the ranks or +talked to the men (the commanders, as we saw at the council of war, +were out of humor and dissatisfied with the affair, and so did not +exert themselves to cheer the men but merely carried out the +orders), yet the troops marched gaily, as they always do when going +into action, especially to an attack. But when they had marched for +about an hour in the dense fog, the greater part of the men had to +halt and an unpleasant consciousness of some dislocation and blunder +spread through the ranks. How such a consciousness is communicated +is very difficult to define, but it certainly is communicated very +surely, and flows rapidly, imperceptibly, and irrepressibly, as +water does in a creek. Had the Russian army been alone without any +allies, it might perhaps have been a long time before this +consciousness of mismanagement became a general conviction, but as +it was, the disorder was readily and naturally attributed to the +stupid Germans, and everyone was convinced that a dangerous muddle had +been occasioned by the sausage eaters. + +"Why have we stopped? Is the way blocked? Or have we already come up +against the French?" + +"No, one can't hear them. They'd be firing if we had." + +"They were in a hurry enough to start us, and now here we stand in +the middle of a field without rhyme or reason. It's all those damned +Germans' muddling! What stupid devils!" + +"Yes, I'd send them on in front, but no fear, they're crowding up +behind. And now here we stand hungry." + +"I say, shall we soon be clear? They say the cavalry are blocking +the way," said an officer. + +"Ah, those damned Germans! They don't know their own country!" +said another. + +"What division are you?" shouted an adjutant, riding up. + +"The Eighteenth." + +"Then why are you here? You should have gone on long ago, now you +won't get there till evening." + +"What stupid orders! They don't themselves know what they are +doing!" said the officer and rode off. + +Then a general rode past shouting something angrily, not in Russian. + +"Tafa-lafa! But what he's jabbering no one can make out," said a +soldier, mimicking the general who had ridden away. "I'd shoot them, +the scoundrels!" + +"We were ordered to be at the place before nine, but we haven't +got halfway. Fine orders!" was being repeated on different sides. + +And the feeling of energy with which the troops had started began to +turn into vexation and anger at the stupid arrangements and at the +Germans. + +The cause of the confusion was that while the Austrian cavalry was +moving toward our left flank, the higher command found that our center +was too far separated from our right flank and the cavalry were all +ordered to turn back to the right. Several thousand cavalry crossed in +front of the infantry, who had to wait. + +At the front an altercation occurred between an Austrian guide and a +Russian general. The general shouted a demand that the cavalry +should be halted, the Austrian argued that not he, but the higher +command, was to blame. The troops meanwhile stood growing listless and +dispirited. After an hour's delay they at last moved on, descending +the hill. The fog that was dispersing on the hill lay still more +densely below, where they were descending. In front in the fog a +shot was heard and then another, at first irregularly at varying +intervals--trata... tat--and then more and more regularly and rapidly, +and the action at the Goldbach Stream began. + +Not expecting to come on the enemy down by the stream, and having +stumbled on him in the fog, hearing no encouraging word from their +commanders, and with a consciousness of being too late spreading +through the ranks, and above all being unable to see anything in front +or around them in the thick fog, the Russians exchanged shots with the +enemy lazily and advanced and again halted, receiving no timely orders +from the officers or adjutants who wandered about in the fog in +those unknown surroundings unable to find their own regiments. In this +way the action began for the first, second, and third columns, which +had gone down into the valley. The fourth column, with which Kutuzov +was, stood on the Pratzen Heights. + +Below, where the fight was beginning, there was still thick fog; +on the higher ground it was clearing, but nothing could be seen of +what was going on in front. Whether all the enemy forces were, as we +supposed, six miles away, or whether they were near by in that sea +of mist, no one knew till after eight o'clock. + +It was nine o'clock in the morning. The fog lay unbroken like a +sea down below, but higher up at the village of Schlappanitz where +Napoleon stood with his marshals around him, it was quite light. Above +him was a clear blue sky, and the sun's vast orb quivered like a +huge hollow, crimson float on the surface of that milky sea of mist. +The whole French army, and even Napoleon himself with his staff, +were not on the far side of the streams and hollows of Sokolnitz and +Schlappanitz beyond which we intended to take up our position and +begin the action, but were on this side, so close to our own forces +that Napoleon with the naked eye could distinguish a mounted man +from one on foot. Napoleon, in the blue cloak which he had worn on his +Italian campaign, sat on his small gray Arab horse a little in front +of his marshals. He gazed silently at the hills which seemed to rise +out of the sea of mist and on which the Russian troops were moving +in the distance, and he listened to the sounds of firing in the +valley. Not a single muscle of his face--which in those days was still +thin--moved. His gleaming eyes were fixed intently on one spot. His +predictions were being justified. Part of the Russian force had +already descended into the valley toward the ponds and lakes and +part were leaving these Pratzen Heights which he intended to attack +and regarded as the key to the position. He saw over the mist that +in a hollow between two hills near the village of Pratzen, the Russian +columns, their bayonets glittering, were moving continuously in one +direction toward the valley and disappearing one after another into +the mist. From information he had received the evening before, from +the sound of wheels and footsteps heard by the outposts during the +night, by the disorderly movement of the Russian columns, and from all +indications, he saw clearly that the allies believed him to be far +away in front of them, and that the columns moving near Pratzen +constituted the center of the Russian army, and that that center was +already sufficiently weakened to be successfully attacked. But still +he did not begin the engagement. + +Today was a great day for him--the anniversary of his coronation. +Before dawn he had slept for a few hours, and refreshed, vigorous, and +in good spirits, he mounted his horse and rode out into the field in +that happy mood in which everything seems possible and everything +succeeds. He sat motionless, looking at the heights visible above +the mist, and his cold face wore that special look of confident, +self-complacent happiness that one sees on the face of a boy happily +in love. The marshals stood behind him not venturing to distract his +attention. He looked now at the Pratzen Heights, now at the sun +floating up out of the mist. + +When the sun had entirely emerged from the fog, and fields and +mist were aglow with dazzling light--as if he had only awaited this to +begin the action--he drew the glove from his shapely white hand, +made a sign with it to the marshals, and ordered the action to +begin. The marshals, accompanied by adjutants, galloped off in +different directions, and a few minutes later the chief forces of +the French army moved rapidly toward those Pratzen Heights which +were being more and more denuded by Russian troops moving down the +valley to their left. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +At eight o'clock Kutuzov rode to Pratzen at the head of the fourth +column, Miloradovich's, the one that was to take the place of +Przebyszewski's and Langeron's columns which had already gone down +into the valley. He greeted the men of the foremost regiment and +gave them the order to march, thereby indicating that he intended to +lead that column himself. When he had reached the village of Pratzen +he halted. Prince Andrew was behind, among the immense number +forming the commander in chief's suite. He was in a state of +suppressed excitement and irritation, though controlledly calm as a +man is at the approach of a long-awaited moment. He was firmly +convinced that this was the day of his Toulon, or his bridge of +Arcola. How it would come about he did not know, but he felt sure it +would do so. The locality and the position of our troops were known to +him as far as they could be known to anyone in our army. His own +strategic plan, which obviously could not now be carried out, was +forgotten. Now, entering into Weyrother's plan, Prince Andrew +considered possible contingencies and formed new projects such as +might call for his rapidity of perception and decision. + +To the left down below in the mist, the musketry fire of unseen +forces could be heard. It was there Prince Andrew thought the fight +would concentrate. "There we shall encounter difficulties, and there," +thought he, "I shall be sent with a brigade or division, and there, +standard in hand, I shall go forward and break whatever is in front of +me." + +He could not look calmly at the standards of the passing battalions. +Seeing them he kept thinking, "That may be the very standard with +which I shall lead the army." + +In the morning all that was left of the night mist on the heights +was a hoar frost now turning to dew, but in the valleys it still lay +like a milk-white sea. Nothing was visible in the valley to the left +into which our troops had descended and from whence came the sounds of +firing. Above the heights was the dark clear sky, and to the right the +vast orb of the sun. In front, far off on the farther shore of that +sea of mist, some wooded hills were discernible, and it was there +the enemy probably was, for something could be descried. On the +right the Guards were entering the misty region with a sound of +hoofs and wheels and now and then a gleam of bayonets; to the left +beyond the village similar masses of cavalry came up and disappeared +in the sea of mist. In front and behind moved infantry. The +commander in chief was standing at the end of the village letting +the troops pass by him. That morning Kutuzov seemed worn and +irritable. The infantry passing before him came to a halt without +any command being given, apparently obstructed by something in front. + +"Do order them to form into battalion columns and go round the +village!" he said angrily to a general who had ridden up. "Don't you +understand, your excellency, my dear sir, that you must not defile +through narrow village streets when we are marching against the +enemy?" + +"I intended to re-form them beyond the village, your excellency," +answered the general. + +Kutuzov laughed bitterly. + +"You'll make a fine thing of it, deploying in sight of the enemy! +Very fine!" + +"The enemy is still far away, your excellency. According to the +dispositions..." + +"The dispositions!" exclaimed Kutuzov bitterly. "Who told you +that?... Kindly do as you are ordered." + +"Yes, sir." + +"My dear fellow," Nesvitski whispered to Prince Andrew, "the old man +is as surly as a dog." + +An Austrian officer in a white uniform with green plumes in his +hat galloped up to Kutuzov and asked in the Emperor's name had the +fourth column advanced into action. + +Kutuzov turned round without answering and his eye happened to +fall upon Prince Andrew, who was beside him. Seeing him, Kutuzov's +malevolent and caustic expression softened, as if admitting that +what was being done was not his adjutant's fault, and still not +answering the Austrian adjutant, he addressed Bolkonski. + +"Go, my dear fellow, and see whether the third division has passed +the village. Tell it to stop and await my orders." + +Hardly had Prince Andrew started than he stopped him. + +"And ask whether sharpshooters have been posted," he added. "What +are they doing? What are they doing?" he murmured to himself, still +not replying to the Austrian. + +Prince Andrew galloped off to execute the order. + +Overtaking the battalions that continued to advance, he stopped +the third division and convinced himself that there really were no +sharpshooters in front of our columns. The colonel at the head of +the regiment was much surprised at the commander in chief's order to +throw out skirmishers. He had felt perfectly sure that there were +other troops in front of him and that the enemy must be at least six +miles away. There was really nothing to be seen in front except a +barren descent hidden by dense mist. Having given orders in the +commander in chief's name to rectify this omission, Prince Andrew +galloped back. Kutuzov still in the same place, his stout body resting +heavily in the saddle with the lassitude of age, sat yawning wearily +with closed eyes. The troops were no longer moving, but stood with the +butts of their muskets on the ground. + +"All right, all right!" he said to Prince Andrew, and turned to a +general who, watch in hand, was saying it was time they started as all +the left-flank columns had already descended. + +"Plenty of time, your excellency," muttered Kutuzov in the midst +of a yawn. "Plenty of time," he repeated. + +Just then at a distance behind Kutuzov was heard the sound of +regiments saluting, and this sound rapidly came nearer along the whole +extended line of the advancing Russian columns. Evidently the person +they were greeting was riding quickly. When the soldiers of the +regiment in front of which Kutuzov was standing began to shout, he +rode a little to one side and looked round with a frown. Along the +road from Pratzen galloped what looked like a squadron of horsemen +in various uniforms. Two of them rode side by side in front, at full +gallop. One in a black uniform with white plumes in his hat rode a +bobtailed chestnut horse, the other who was in a white uniform rode +a black one. These were the two Emperors followed by their suites. +Kutuzov, affecting the manners of an old soldier at the front, gave +the command "Attention!" and rode up to the Emperors with a salute. +His whole appearance and manner were suddenly transformed. He put on +the air of a subordinate who obeys without reasoning. With an +affectation of respect which evidently struck Alexander +unpleasantly, he rode up and saluted. + +This unpleasant impression merely flitted over the young and happy +face of the Emperor like a cloud of haze across a clear sky and +vanished. After his illness he looked rather thinner that day than +on the field of Olmutz where Bolkonski had seen him for the first time +abroad, but there was still the same bewitching combination of majesty +and mildness in his fine gray eyes, and on his delicate lips the +same capacity for varying expression and the same prevalent appearance +of goodhearted innocent youth. + +At the Olmutz review he had seemed more majestic; here he seemed +brighter and more energetic. He was slightly flushed after galloping +two miles, and reining in his horse he sighed restfully and looked +round at the faces of his suite, young and animated as his own. +Czartoryski, Novosiltsev, Prince Volkonsky, Strogonov, and the others, +all richly dressed gay young men on splendid, well-groomed, fresh, +only slightly heated horses, exchanging remarks and smiling, had +stopped behind the Emperor. The Emperor Francis, a rosy, long faced +young man, sat very erect on his handsome black horse, looking about +him in a leisurely and preoccupied manner. He beckoned to one of his +white adjutants and asked some question--"Most likely he is asking +at what o'clock they started," thought Prince Andrew, watching his old +acquaintance with a smile he could not repress as he recalled his +reception at Brunn. In the Emperors' suite were the picked young +orderly officers of the Guard and line regiments, Russian and +Austrian. Among them were grooms leading the Tsar's beautiful relay +horses covered with embroidered cloths. + +As when a window is opened a whiff of fresh air from the fields +enters a stuffy room, so a whiff of youthfulness, energy, and +confidence of success reached Kutuzov's cheerless staff with the +galloping advent of all these brilliant young men. + +"Why aren't you beginning, Michael Ilarionovich?" said the Emperor +Alexander hurriedly to Kutuzov, glancing courteously at the same +time at the Emperor Francis. + +"I am waiting, Your Majesty," answered Kutuzov, bending forward +respectfully. + +The Emperor, frowning slightly, bent his ear forward as if he had +not quite heard. + +"Waiting, Your Majesty," repeated Kutuzov. (Prince Andrew noted that +Kutuzov's upper lip twitched unnaturally as he said the word +"waiting.") "Not all the columns have formed up yet, Your Majesty." + +The Tsar heard but obviously did not like the reply; he shrugged his +rather round shoulders and glanced at Novosiltsev who was near him, as +if complaining of Kutuzov. + +"You know, Michael Ilarionovich, we are not on the +Empress' Field where a parade does not begin till all the troops are +assembled," said the Tsar with another glance at the Emperor +Francis, as if inviting him if not to join in at least to listen to +what he was saying. But the Emperor Francis continued to look about +him and did not listen. + +"That is just why I do not begin, sire," said Kutuzov in a +resounding voice, apparently to preclude the possibility of not +being heard, and again something in his face twitched--"That is just +why I do not begin, sire, because we are not on parade and not on +the Empress' Field." said clearly and distinctly. + +In the Emperor's suite all exchanged rapid looks that expressed +dissatisfaction and reproach. "Old though he may be, he should not, he +certainly should not, speak like that," their glances seemed to say. + +The Tsar looked intently and observantly into Kutuzov's eye +waiting to hear whether he would say anything more. But Kutuzov, +with respectfully bowed head, seemed also to be waiting. The silence +lasted for about a minute. + +"However, if you command it, Your Majesty," said Kutuzov, lifting +his head and again assuming his former tone of a dull, unreasoning, +but submissive general. + +He touched his horse and having called Miloradovich, the commander +of the column, gave him the order to advance. + +The troops again began to move, and two battalions of the Novgorod +and one of the Apsheron regiment went forward past the Emperor. + +As this Apsheron battalion marched by, the red-faced Miloradovich, +without his greatcoat, with his Orders on his breast and an enormous +tuft of plumes in his cocked hat worn on one side with its corners +front and back, galloped strenuously forward, and with a dashing +salute reined in his horse before the Emperor. + +"God be with you, general!" said the Emperor. + +"Ma foi, sire, nous ferons ce qui sera dans notre possibilite, +sire,"* he answered gaily, raising nevertheless ironic smiles among +the gentlemen of the Tsar's suite by his poor French. + + +*"Indeed, Sire, we shall do everything it is possible to do, Sire." + + +Miloradovich wheeled his horse sharply and stationed himself a +little behind the Emperor. The Apsheron men, excited by the Tsar's +presence, passed in step before the Emperors and their suites at a +bold, brisk pace. + +"Lads!" shouted Miloradovich in a loud, self-confident, and cheery +voice, obviously so elated by the sound of firing, by the prospect +of battle, and by the sight of the gallant Apsherons, his comrades +in Suvorov's time, now passing so gallantly before the Emperors, +that he forgot the sovereigns' presence. "Lads, it's not the first +village you've had to take," cried he. + +"Glad to do our best!" shouted the soldiers. + +The Emperor's horse started at the sudden cry. This horse that had +carried the sovereign at reviews in Russia bore him also here on the +field of Austerlitz, enduring the heedless blows of his left foot +and pricking its ears at the sound of shots just as it had done on the +Empress' Field, not understanding the significance of the firing, +nor of the nearness of the Emperor Francis' black cob, nor of all that +was being said, thought, and felt that day by its rider. + +The Emperor turned with a smile to one of his followers and made a +remark to him, pointing to the gallant Apsherons. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Kutuzov accompanied by his adjutants rode at a walking pace behind +the carabineers. + +When he had gone less than half a mile in the rear of the column +he stopped at a solitary, deserted house that had probably once been +an inn, where two roads parted. Both of them led downhill and troops +were marching along both. + +The fog had begun to clear and enemy troops were already dimly +visible about a mile and a half off on the opposite heights. Down +below, on the left, the firing became more distinct. Kutuzov had +stopped and was speaking to an Austrian general. Prince Andrew, who +was a little behind looking at them, turned to an adjutant to ask +him for a field glass. + +"Look, look!" said this adjutant, looking not at the troops in the +distance, but down the hill before him. "It's the French!" + +The two generals and the adjutant took hold of the field glass, +trying to snatch it from one another. The expression on all their +faces suddenly changed to one of horror. The French were supposed to +be a mile and a half away, but had suddenly and unexpectedly +appeared just in front of us. + +"It's the enemy?... No!... Yes, see it is!... for certain.... But +how is that?" said different voices. + +With the naked eye Prince Andrew saw below them to the right, not +more than five hundred paces from where Kutuzov was standing, a +dense French column coming up to meet the Apsherons. + +"Here it is! The decisive moment has arrived. My turn has come," +thought Prince Andrew, and striking his horse he rode up to Kutuzov. + +"The Apsherons must be stopped, your excellency," cried he. But at +that very instant a cloud of smoke spread all round, firing was +heard quite close at hand, and a voice of naive terror barely two +steps from Prince Andrew shouted, "Brothers! All's lost!" And at +this as if at a command, everyone began to run. + +Confused and ever-increasing crowds were running back to where +five minutes before the troops had passed the Emperors. Not only would +it have been difficult to stop that crowd, it was even impossible +not to be carried back with it oneself. Bolkonski only tried not to +lose touch with it, and looked around bewildered and unable to grasp +what was happening in front of him. Nesvitski with an angry face, +red and unlike himself, was shouting to Kutuzov that if he did not +ride away at once he would certainly be taken prisoner. Kutuzov +remained in the same place and without answering drew out a +handkerchief. Blood was flowing from his cheek. Prince Andrew forced +his way to him. + +"You are wounded?" he asked, hardly able to master the trembling +of his lower jaw. + +"The wound is not here, it is there!" said Kutuzov, pressing the +handkerchief to his wounded cheek and pointing to the fleeing +soldiers. "Stop them!" he shouted, and at the same moment, probably +realizing that it was impossible to stop them, spurred his horse and +rode to the right. + +A fresh wave of the flying mob caught him and bore him back with it. + +The troops were running in such a dense mass that once surrounded by +them it was difficult to get out again. One was shouting, "Get on! Why +are you hindering us?" Another in the same place turned round and +fired in the air; a third was striking the horse Kutuzov himself rode. +Having by a great effort got away to the left from that flood of +men, Kutuzov, with his suite diminished by more than half, rode toward +a sound of artillery fire near by. Having forced his way out of the +crowd of fugitives, Prince Andrew, trying to keep near Kutuzov, saw on +the slope of the hill amid the smoke a Russian battery that was +still firing and Frenchmen running toward it. Higher up stood some +Russian infantry, neither moving forward to protect the battery nor +backward with the fleeing crowd. A mounted general separated himself +from the infantry and approached Kutuzov. Of Kutuzov's suite only four +remained. They were all pale and exchanged looks in silence. + +"Stop those wretches!" gasped Kutuzov to the regimental commander, +pointing to the flying soldiers; but at that instant, as if to +punish him for those words, bullets flew hissing across the regiment +and across Kutuzov's suite like a flock of little birds. + +The French had attacked the battery and, seeing Kutuzov, were firing +at him. After this volley the regimental commander clutched at his +leg; several soldiers fell, and a second lieutenant who was holding +the flag let it fall from his hands. It swayed and fell, but caught on +the muskets of the nearest soldiers. The soldiers started firing +without orders. + +"Oh! Oh! Oh!" groaned Kutuzov despairingly and looked around.... +"Bolkonski!" he whispered, his voice trembling from a consciousness of +the feebleness of age, "Bolkonski!" he whispered, pointing to the +disordered battalion and at the enemy, "what's that?" + +But before he had finished speaking, Prince Andrew, feeling tears of +shame and anger choking him, had already leapt from his horse and +run to the standard. + +"Forward, lads!" he shouted in a voice piercing as a child's. + +"Here it is!" thought he, seizing the staff of the standard and +hearing with pleasure the whistle of bullets evidently aimed at him. +Several soldiers fell. + +"Hurrah!" shouted Prince Andrew, and, scarcely able to hold up the +heavy standard, he ran forward with full confidence that the whole +battalion would follow him. + +And really he only ran a few steps alone. One soldier moved and then +another and soon the whole battalion ran forward shouting "Hurrah!" +and overtook him. A sergeant of the battalion ran up and took the flag +that was swaying from its weight in Prince Andrew's hands, but he +was immediately killed. Prince Andrew again seized the standard and, +dragging it by the staff, ran on with the battalion. In front he saw +our artillerymen, some of whom were fighting, while others, having +abandoned their guns, were running toward him. He also saw French +infantry soldiers who were seizing the artillery horses and turning +the guns round. Prince Andrew and the battalion were already within +twenty paces of the cannon. He heard the whistle of bullets above +him unceasingly and to right and left of him soldiers continually +groaned and dropped. But he did not look at them: he looked only at +what was going on in front of him--at the battery. He now saw +clearly the figure of a red-haired gunner with his shako knocked awry, +pulling one end of a mop while a French soldier tugged at the other. +He could distinctly see the distraught yet angry expression on the +faces of these two men, who evidently did not realize what they were +doing. + +"What are they about?" thought Prince Andrew as he gazed at them. +"Why doesn't the red-haired gunner run away as he is unarmed? Why +doesn't the Frenchman stab him? He will not get away before the +Frenchman remembers his bayonet and stabs him...." + +And really another French soldier, trailing his musket, ran up to +the struggling men, and the fate of the red-haired gunner, who had +triumphantly secured the mop and still did not realize what awaited +him, was about to be decided. But Prince Andrew did not see how it +ended. It seemed to him as though one of the soldiers near him hit him +on the head with the full swing of a bludgeon. It hurt a little, but +the worst of it was that the pain distracted him and prevented his +seeing what he had been looking at. + +"What's this? Am I falling? My legs are giving way," thought he, and +fell on his back. He opened his eyes, hoping to see how the struggle +of the Frenchmen with the gunners ended, whether the red-haired gunner +had been killed or not and whether the cannon had been captured or +saved. But he saw nothing. Above him there was now nothing but the +sky--the lofty sky, not clear yet still immeasurably lofty, with +gray clouds gliding slowly across it. "How quiet, peaceful, and +solemn; not at all as I ran," thought Prince Andrew--"not as we ran, +shouting and fighting, not at all as the gunner and the Frenchman with +frightened and angry faces struggled for the mop: how differently do +those clouds glide across that lofty infinite sky! How was it I did +not see that lofty sky before? And how happy I am to have found it +at last! Yes! All is vanity, all falsehood, except that infinite +sky. There is nothing, nothing, but that. But even it does not +exist, there is nothing but quiet and peace. Thank God!..." + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +On our right flank commanded by Bagration, at nine o'clock the +battle had not yet begun. Not wishing to agree to Dolgorukov's +demand to commence the action, and wishing to avert responsibility +from himself, Prince Bagration proposed to Dolgorukov to send to +inquire of the commander in chief. Bagration knew that as the distance +between the two flanks was more than six miles, even if the +messenger were not killed (which he very likely would be), and found +the commander in chief (which would be very difficult), he would not +be able to get back before evening. + +Bagration cast his large, expressionless, sleepy eyes round his +suite, and the boyish face Rostov, breathless with excitement and +hope, was the first to catch his eye. He sent him. + +"And if I should meet His Majesty before I meet the commander in +chief, your excellency?" said Rostov, with his hand to his cap. + +"You can give the message to His Majesty," said Dolgorukov, +hurriedly interrupting Bagration. + +On being relieved from picket duty Rostov had managed to get a few +hours' sleep before morning and felt cheerful, bold, and resolute, +with elasticity of movement, faith in his good fortune, and +generally in that state of mind which makes everything seem +possible, pleasant, and easy. + +All his wishes were being fulfilled that morning: there was to be +a general engagement in which he was taking part, more than that, he +was orderly to the bravest general, and still more, he was going +with a message to Kutuzov, perhaps even to the sovereign himself. +The morning was bright, he had a good horse under him, and his heart +was full of joy and happiness. On receiving the order he gave his +horse the rein and galloped along the line. At first he rode along the +line of Bagration's troops, which had not yet advanced into action but +were standing motionless; then he came to the region occupied by +Uvarov's cavalry and here he noticed a stir and signs of preparation +for battle; having passed Uvarov's cavalry he clearly heard the +sound of cannon and musketry ahead of him. The firing grew louder +and louder. + +In the fresh morning air were now heard, not two or three musket +shots at irregular intervals as before, followed by one or two +cannon shots, but a roll of volleys of musketry from the slopes of the +hill before Pratzen, interrupted by such frequent reports of cannon +that sometimes several of them were not separated from one another but +merged into a general roar. + +He could see puffs of musketry smoke that seemed to chase one +another down the hillsides, and clouds of cannon smoke rolling, +spreading, and mingling with one another. He could also, by the +gleam of bayonets visible through the smoke, make out moving masses of +infantry and narrow lines of artillery with green caissons. + +Rostov stopped his horse for a moment on a hillock to see what was +going on, but strain his attention as he would he could not understand +or make out anything of what was happening: there in the smoke men +of some sort were moving about, in front and behind moved lines of +troops; but why, whither, and who they were, it was impossible to make +out. These sights and sounds had no depressing or intimidating +effect on him; on the contrary, they stimulated his energy and +determination. + +"Go on! Go on! Give it them!" he mentally exclaimed at these sounds, +and again proceeded to gallop along the line, penetrating farther +and farther into the region where the army was already in action. + +"How it will be there I don't know, but all will be well!" thought +Rostov. + +After passing some Austrian troops he noticed that the next part +of the line (the Guards) was already in action. + +"So much the better! I shall see it close," he thought. + +He was riding almost along the front line. A handful of men came +galloping toward him. They were our Uhlans who with disordered ranks +were returning from the attack. Rostov got out of their way, +involuntarily noticed that one of them was bleeding, and galloped on. + +"That is no business of mine," he thought. He had not ridden many +hundred yards after that before he saw to his left, across the whole +width of the field, an enormous mass of cavalry in brilliant white +uniforms, mounted on black horses, trotting straight toward him and +across his path. Rostov put his horse to full gallop to get out of the +way of these men, and he would have got clear had they continued at +the same speed, but they kept increasing their pace, so that some of +the horses were already galloping. Rostov heard the thud of their +hoofs and the jingle of their weapons and saw their horses, their +figures, and even their faces, more and more distinctly. They were our +Horse Guards, advancing to attack the French cavalry that was coming +to meet them. + +The Horse Guards were galloping, but still holding in their +horses. Rostov could already see their faces and heard the command: +"Charge!" shouted by an officer who was urging his thoroughbred to +full speed. Rostov, fearing to be crushed or swept into the attack +on the French, galloped along the front as hard as his horse could go, +but still was not in time to avoid them. + +The last of the Horse Guards, a huge pockmarked fellow, frowned +angrily on seeing Rostov before him, with whom he would inevitably +collide. This Guardsman would certainly have bowled Rostov and his +Bedouin over (Rostov felt himself quite tiny and weak compared to +these gigantic men and horses) had it not occurred to Rostov to +flourish his whip before the eyes of the Guardsman's horse. The +heavy black horse, sixteen hands high, shied, throwing back its +ears; but the pockmarked Guardsman drove his huge spurs in +violently, and the horse, flourishing its tail and extending its neck, +galloped on yet faster. Hardly had the Horse Guards passed Rostov +before he heard them shout, "Hurrah!" and looking back saw that +their foremost ranks were mixed up with some foreign cavalry with +red epaulets, probably French. He could see nothing more, for +immediately afterwards cannon began firing from somewhere and smoke +enveloped everything. + +At that moment, as the Horse Guards, having passed him, +disappeared in the smoke, Rostov hesitated whether to gallop after +them or to go where he was sent. This was the brilliant charge of +the Horse Guards that amazed the French themselves. Rostov was +horrified to hear later that of all that mass of huge and handsome +men, of all those brilliant, rich youths, officers and cadets, who had +galloped past him on their thousand-ruble horses, only eighteen were +left after the charge. + +"Why should I envy them? My chance is not lost, and maybe I shall +see the Emperor immediately!" thought Rostov and galloped on. + +When he came level with the Foot Guards he noticed that about them +and around them cannon balls were flying, of which he was aware not so +much because he heard their sound as because he saw uneasiness on +the soldiers' faces and unnatural warlike solemnity on those of the +officers. + +Passing behind one of the lines of a regiment of Foot Guards he +heard a voice calling him by name. + +"Rostov!" + +"What?" he answered, not recognizing Boris. + +"I say, we've been in the front line! Our regiment attacked!" said +Boris with the happy smile seen on the faces of young men who have +been under fire for the first time. + +Rostov stopped. + +"Have you?" he said. "Well, how did it go?" + +"We drove them back!" said Boris with animation, growing +talkative. "Can you imagine it?" and he began describing how the +Guards, having taken up their position and seeing troops before +them, thought they were Austrians, and all at once discovered from the +cannon balls discharged by those troops that they were themselves in +the front line and had unexpectedly to go into action. Rostov +without hearing Boris to the end spurred his horse. + +"Where are you off to?" asked Boris. + +"With a message to His Majesty." + +"There he is!" said Boris, thinking Rostov had said "His +Highness," and pointing to the Grand Duke who with his high +shoulders and frowning brows stood a hundred paces away from them in +his helmet and Horse Guards' jacket, shouting something to a pale, +white uniformed Austrian officer. + +"But that's the Grand Duke, and I want the commander in chief or the +Emperor," said Rostov, and was about to spur his horse. + +"Count! Count!" shouted Berg who ran up from the other side as eager +as Boris. "Count! I am wounded in my right hand" (and he showed his +bleeding hand with a handkerchief tied round it) "and I remained at +the front. I held my sword in my left hand, Count. All our family--the +von Bergs--have been knights!" + +He said something more, but Rostov did not wait to hear it and +rode away. + +Having passed the Guards and traversed an empty space, Rostov, to +avoid again getting in front of the first line as he had done when the +Horse Guards charged, followed the line of reserves, going far round +the place where the hottest musket fire and cannonade were heard. +Suddenly he heard musket fire quite close in front of him and behind +our troops, where he could never have expected the enemy to be. + +"What can it be?" he thought. "The enemy in the rear of our army? +Impossible!" And suddenly he was seized by a panic of fear for himself +and for the issue of the whole battle. "But be that what it may," he +reflected, "there is no riding round it now. I must look for the +commander in chief here, and if all is lost it is for me to perish +with the rest." + +The foreboding of evil that had suddenly come over Rostov was more +and more confirmed the farther he rode into the region behind the +village of Pratzen, which was full of troops of all kinds. + +"What does it mean? What is it? Whom are they firing at? Who is +firing?" Rostov kept asking as he came up to Russian and Austrian +soldiers running in confused crowds across his path. + +"The devil knows! They've killed everybody! It's all up now!" he was +told in Russian, German, and Czech by the crowd of fugitives who +understood what was happening as little as he did. + +"Kill the Germans!" shouted one. + +"May the devil take them--the traitors!" + +"Zum Henker diese Russen!"* muttered a German. + + +*"Hang these Russians!" + + +Several wounded men passed along the road, and words of abuse, +screams, and groans mingled in a general hubbub, then the firing +died down. Rostov learned later that Russian and Austrian soldiers had +been firing at one another. + +"My God! What does it all mean?" thought he. "And here, where at any +moment the Emperor may see them.... But no, these must be only a +handful of scoundrels. It will soon be over, it can't be that, it +can't be! Only to get past them quicker, quicker!" + +The idea of defeat and flight could not enter Rostov's head. +Though he saw French cannon and French troops on the Pratzen Heights +just where he had been ordered to look for the commander in chief, +he could not, did not wish to, believe that. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Rostov had been ordered to look for Kutuzov and the Emperor near the +village of Pratzen. But neither they nor a single commanding officer +were there, only disorganized crowds of troops of various kinds. He +urged on his already weary horse to get quickly past these crowds, but +the farther he went the more disorganized they were. The highroad on +which he had come out was thronged with caleches, carriages of all +sorts, and Russian and Austrian soldiers of all arms, some wounded and +some not. This whole mass droned and jostled in confusion under the +dismal influence of cannon balls flying from the French batteries +stationed on the Pratzen Heights. + +"Where is the Emperor? Where is Kutuzov?" Rostov kept asking +everyone he could stop, but got no answer from anyone. + +At last seizing a soldier by his collar he forced him to answer. + +"Eh, brother! They've all bolted long ago!" said the soldier, +laughing for some reason and shaking himself free. + +Having left that soldier who was evidently drunk, Rostov stopped the +horse of a batman or groom of some important personage and began to +question him. The man announced that the Tsar had been driven in a +carriage at full speed about an hour before along that very road and +that he was dangerously wounded. + +"It can't be!" said Rostov. "It must have been someone else." + +"I saw him myself." replied the man with a self-confident smile of +derision. "I ought to know the Emperor by now, after the times I've +seen him in Petersburg. I saw him just as I see you.... There he sat +in the carriage as pale as anything. How they made the four black +horses fly! Gracious me, they did rattle past! It's time I knew the +Imperial horses and Ilya Ivanych. I don't think Ilya drives anyone +except the Tsar!" + +Rostov let go of the horse and was about to ride on, when a +wounded officer passing by addressed him: + +"Who is it you want?" he asked. "The commander in chief? He was +killed by a cannon ball--struck in the breast before our regiment." + +"Not killed--wounded!" another officer corrected him. + +"Who? Kutuzov?" asked Rostov. + +"Not Kutuzov, but what's his name--well, never mind... there are not +many left alive. Go that way, to that village, all the commanders +are there," said the officer, pointing to the village of Hosjeradek, +and he walked on. + +Rostov rode on at a footpace not knowing why or to whom he was now +going. The Emperor was wounded, the battle lost. It was impossible +to doubt it now. Rostov rode in the direction pointed out to him, in +which he saw turrets and a church. What need to hurry? What was he now +to say to the Tsar or to Kutuzov, even if they were alive and +unwounded? + +"Take this road, your honor, that way you will be killed at once!" a +soldier shouted to him. "They'd kill you there!" + +"Oh, what are you talking about?" said another. "Where is he to +go? That way is nearer." + +Rostov considered, and then went in the direction where they said he +would be killed. + +"It's all the same now. If the Emperor is wounded, am I to try to +save myself?" he thought. He rode on to the region where the +greatest number of men had perished in fleeing from Pratzen. The +French had not yet occupied that region, and the Russians--the +uninjured and slightly wounded--had left it long ago. All about the +field, like heaps of manure on well-kept plowland, lay from ten to +fifteen dead and wounded to each couple of acres. The wounded crept +together in twos and threes and one could hear their distressing +screams and groans, sometimes feigned--or so it seemed to Rostov. He +put his horse to a trot to avoid seeing all these suffering men, and +he felt afraid--afraid not for his life, but for the courage he needed +and which he knew would not stand the sight of these unfortunates. + +The French, who had ceased firing at this field strewn with dead and +wounded where there was no one left to fire at, on seeing an +adjutant riding over it trained a gun on him and fired several +shots. The sensation of those terrible whistling sounds and of the +corpses around him merged in Rostov's mind into a single feeling of +terror and pity for himself. He remembered his mother's last letter. +"What would she feel," thought he, "if she saw me here now on this +field with the cannon aimed at me?" + +In the village of Hosjeradek there were Russian troops retiring from +the field of battle, who though still in some confusion were less +disordered. The French cannon did not reach there and the musketry +fire sounded far away. Here everyone clearly saw and said that the +battle was lost. No one whom Rostov asked could tell him where the +Emperor or Kutuzov was. Some said the report that the Emperor was +wounded was correct, others that it was not, and explained the false +rumor that had spread by the fact that the Emperor's carriage had +really galloped from the field of battle with the pale and terrified +Ober-Hofmarschal Count Tolstoy, who had ridden out to the +battlefield with others in the Emperor's suite. One officer told +Rostov that he had seen someone from headquarters behind the village +to the left, and thither Rostov rode, not hoping to find anyone but +merely to ease his conscience. When he had ridden about two miles +and had passed the last of the Russian troops, he saw, near a +kitchen garden with a ditch round it, two men on horseback facing +the ditch. One with a white plume in his hat seemed familiar to +Rostov; the other on a beautiful chestnut horse (which Rostov +fancied he had seen before) rode up to the ditch, struck his horse +with his spurs, and giving it the rein leaped lightly over. Only a +little earth crumbled from the bank under the horse's hind hoofs. +Turning the horse sharply, he again jumped the ditch, and +deferentially addressed the horseman with the white plumes, +evidently suggesting that he should do the same. The rider, whose +figure seemed familiar to Rostov and involuntarily riveted his +attention, made a gesture of refusal with his head and hand and by +that gesture Rostov instantly recognized his lamented and adored +monarch. + +"But it can't be he, alone in the midst of this empty field!" +thought Rostov. At that moment Alexander turned his head and Rostov +saw the beloved features that were so deeply engraved on his memory. +The Emperor was pale, his cheeks sunken and his eyes hollow, but the +charm, the mildness of his features, was all the greater. Rostov was +happy in the assurance that the rumors about the Emperor being wounded +were false. He was happy to be seeing him. He knew that he might and +even ought to go straight to him and give the message Dolgorukov had +ordered him to deliver. + +But as a youth in love trembles, is unnerved, and dares not utter +the thoughts he has dreamed of for nights, but looks around for help +or a chance of delay and flight when the longed-for moment comes and +he is alone with her, so Rostov, now that he had attained what he +had longed for more than anything else in the world, did not know +how to approach the Emperor, and a thousand reasons occurred to him +why it would be inconvenient, unseemly, and impossible to do so. + +"What! It is as if I were glad of a chance to take advantage of +his being alone and despondent! A strange face may seem unpleasant +or painful to him at this moment of sorrow; besides, what can I say to +him now, when my heart fails me and my mouth feels dry at the mere +sight of him?" Not one of the innumerable speeches addressed to the +Emperor that he had composed in his imagination could he now recall. +Those speeches were intended for quite other conditions, they were for +the most part to be spoken at a moment of victory and triumph, +generally when he was dying of wounds and the sovereign had thanked +him for heroic deeds, and while dying he expressed the love his +actions had proved. + +"Besides how can I ask the Emperor for his instructions for the +right flank now that it is nearly four o'clock and the battle is lost? +No, certainly I must not approach him, I must not intrude on his +reflections. Better die a thousand times than risk receiving an unkind +look or bad opinion from him," Rostov decided; and sorrowfully and +with a heart full despair he rode away, continually looking back at +the Tsar, who still remained in the same attitude of indecision. + +While Rostov was thus arguing with himself and riding sadly away, +Captain von Toll chanced to ride to the same spot, and seeing the +Emperor at once rode up to him, offered his services, and assisted him +to cross the ditch on foot. The Emperor, wishing to rest and feeling +unwell, sat down under an apple tree and von Toll remained beside him. +Rostov from a distance saw with envy and remorse how von Toll spoke +long and warmly to the Emperor and how the Emperor, evidently weeping, +covered his eyes with his hand and pressed von Toll's hand. + +"And I might have been in his place!" thought Rostov, and hardly +restraining his tears of pity for the Emperor, he rode on in utter +despair, not knowing where to or why he was now riding. + +His despair was all the greater from feeling that his own weakness +was the cause his grief. + +He might... not only might but should, have gone up to the +sovereign. It was a unique chance to show his devotion to the +Emperor and he had not made use of it.... "What have I done?" +thought he. And he turned round and galloped back to the place where +he had seen the Emperor, but there was no one beyond the ditch now. +Only some carts and carriages were passing by. From one of the drivers +he learned that Kutuzov's staff were not far off, in the village the +vehicles were going to. Rostov followed them. In front of him walked +Kutuzov's groom leading horses in horsecloths. Then came a cart, and +behind that walked an old, bandy-legged domestic serf in a peaked +cap and sheepskin coat. + +"Tit! I say, Tit!" said the groom. + +"What?" answered the old man absent-mindedly. + +"Go, Tit! Thresh a bit!" + +"Oh, you fool!" said the old man, spitting angrily. Some time passed +in silence, and then the same joke was repeated. + + +Before five in the evening the battle had been lost at all points. +More than a hundred cannon were already in the hands of the French. + +Przebyszewski and his corps had laid down their arms. Other +columns after losing half their men were retreating in disorderly +confused masses. + +The remains of Langeron's and Dokhturov's mingled forces were +crowding around the dams and banks of the ponds near the village of +Augesd. + +After five o'clock it was only at the Augesd Dam that a hot +cannonade (delivered by the French alone) was still to be heard from +numerous batteries ranged on the slopes of the Pratzen Heights, +directed at our retreating forces. + +In the rearguard, Dokhturov and others rallying some battalions kept +up a musketry fire at the French cavalry that was pursuing our troops. +It was growing dusk. On the narrow Augesd Dam where for so many +years the old miller had been accustomed to sit in his tasseled cap +peacefully angling, while his grandson, with shirt sleeves rolled +up, handled the floundering silvery fish in the watering can, on +that dam over which for so many years Moravians in shaggy caps and +blue jackets had peacefully driven their two-horse carts loaded with +wheat and had returned dusty with flour whitening their carts--on that +narrow dam amid the wagons and the cannon, under the horses' hoofs and +between the wagon wheels, men disfigured by fear of death now +crowded together, crushing one another, dying, stepping over the dying +and killing one another, only to move on a few steps and be killed +themselves in the same way. + +Every ten seconds a cannon ball flew compressing the air around, +or a shell burst in the midst of that dense throng, killing some and +splashing with blood those near them. + +Dolokhov--now an officer--wounded in the arm, and on foot, with +the regimental commander on horseback and some ten men of his company, +represented all that was left of that whole regiment. Impelled by +the crowd, they had got wedged in at the approach to the dam and, +jammed in on all sides, had stopped because a horse in front had +fallen under a cannon and the crowd were dragging it out. A cannon +ball killed someone behind them, another fell in front and splashed +Dolokhov with blood. The crowd, pushing forward desperately, +squeezed together, moved a few steps, and again stopped. + +"Move on a hundred yards and we are certainly saved, remain here +another two minutes and it is certain death," thought each one. + +Dolokhov who was in the midst of the crowd forced his way to the +edge of the dam, throwing two soldiers off their feet, and ran onto +the slippery ice that covered the millpool. + +"Turn this way!" he shouted, jumping over the ice which creaked +under him; "turn this way!" he shouted to those with the gun. "It +bears!..." + +The ice bore him but it swayed and creaked, and it was plain that it +would give way not only under a cannon or a crowd, but very soon +even under his weight alone. The men looked at him and pressed to +the bank, hesitating to step onto the ice. The general on horseback at +the entrance to the dam raised his hand and opened his mouth to +address Dolokhov. Suddenly a cannon ball hissed so low above the crowd +that everyone ducked. It flopped into something moist, and the general +fell from his horse in a pool of blood. Nobody gave him a look or +thought of raising him. + +"Get onto the ice, over the ice! Go on! Turn! Don't you hear? Go +on!" innumerable voices suddenly shouted after the ball had struck the +general, the men themselves not knowing what, or why, they were +shouting. + +One of the hindmost guns that was going onto the dam turned off onto +the ice. Crowds of soldiers from the dam began running onto the frozen +pond. The ice gave way under one of the foremost soldiers, and one leg +slipped into the water. He tried to right himself but fell in up to +his waist. The nearest soldiers shrank back, the gun driver stopped +his horse, but from behind still came the shouts: "Onto the ice, why +do you stop? Go on! Go on!" And cries of horror were heard in the +crowd. The soldiers near the gun waved their arms and beat the +horses to make them turn and move on. The horses moved off the bank. +The ice, that had held under those on foot, collapsed in a great mass, +and some forty men who were on it dashed, some forward and some +back, drowning one another. + +Still the cannon balls continued regularly to whistle and flop +onto the ice and into the water and oftenest of all among the crowd +that covered the dam, the pond, and the bank. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +On the Pratzen Heights, where he had fallen with the flagstaff in +his hand, lay Prince Andrew Bolkonski bleeding profusely and +unconsciously uttering a gentle, piteous, and childlike moan. + +Toward evening he ceased moaning and became quite still. He did +not know how long his unconsciousness lasted. Suddenly he again felt +that he was alive and suffering from a burning, lacerating pain in his +head. + +"Where is it, that lofty sky that I did not know till now, but saw +today?" was his first thought. "And I did not know this suffering +either," he thought. "Yes, I did not know anything, anything at all +till now. But where am I?" + +He listened and heard the sound of approaching horses, and voices +speaking French. He opened his eyes. Above him again was the same +lofty sky with clouds that had risen and were floating still higher, +and between them gleamed blue infinity. He did not turn his head and +did not see those who, judging by the sound of hoofs and voices, had +ridden up and stopped near him. + +It was Napoleon accompanied by two aides-de-camp. Bonaparte riding +over the battlefield had given final orders to strengthen the +batteries firing at the Augesd Dam and was looking at the killed and +wounded left on the field. + +"Fine men!" remarked Napoleon, looking at a dead Russian +grenadier, who, with his face buried in the ground and a blackened +nape, lay on his stomach with an already stiffened arm flung wide. + +"The ammunition for the guns in position is exhausted, Your +Majesty," said an adjutant who had come from the batteries that were +firing at Augesd. + +"Have some brought from the reserve," said Napoleon, and having gone +on a few steps he stopped before Prince Andrew, who lay on his back +with the flagstaff that had been dropped beside him. (The flag had +already been taken by the French as a trophy.) + +"That's a fine death!" said Napoleon as he gazed at Bolkonski. + +Prince Andrew understood that this was said of him and that it was +Napoleon who said it. He heard the speaker addressed as Sire. But he +heard the words as he might have heard the buzzing of a fly. Not +only did they not interest him, but he took no notice of them and at +once forgot them. His head was burning, he felt himself bleeding to +death, and he saw above him the remote, lofty, and everlasting sky. He +knew it was Napoleon--his hero--but at that moment Napoleon seemed +to him such a small, insignificant creature compared with what was +passing now between himself and that lofty infinite sky with the +clouds flying over it. At that moment it meant nothing to him who +might be standing over him, or what was said of him; he was only +glad that people were standing near him and only wished that they +would help him and bring him back to life, which seemed to him so +beautiful now that he had today learned to understand it so +differently. He collected all his strength, to stir and utter a sound. +He feebly moved his leg and uttered a weak, sickly groan which aroused +his own pity. + +"Ah! He is alive," said Napoleon. "Lift this young man up and +carry him to the dressing station." + +Having said this, Napoleon rode on to meet Marshal Lannes, who, +hat in hand, rode up smiling to the Emperor to congratulate him on the +victory. + +Prince Andrew remembered nothing more: he lost consciousness from +the terrible pain of being lifted onto the stretcher, the jolting +while being moved, and the probing of his wound at the dressing +station. He did not regain consciousness till late in the day, when +with other wounded and captured Russian officers he was carried to the +hospital. During this transfer he felt a little stronger and was +able to look about him and even speak. + +The first words he heard on coming to his senses were those of a +French convoy officer, who said rapidly: "We must halt here: the +Emperor will pass here immediately; it will please him to see these +gentlemen prisoners." + +"There are so many prisoners today, nearly the whole Russian army, +that he is probably tired of them," said another officer. + +"All the same! They say this one is the commander of all the Emperor +Alexander's Guards," said the first one, indicating a Russian +officer in the white uniform of the Horse Guards. + +Bolkonski recognized Prince Repnin whom he had met in Petersburg +society. Beside him stood a lad of nineteen, also a wounded officer of +the Horse Guards. + +Bonaparte, having come up at a gallop, stopped his horse. + +"Which is the senior?" he asked, on seeing the prisoners. + +They named the colonel, Prince Repnin. + +"You are the commander of the Emperor Alexander's regiment of +Horse Guards?" asked Napoleon. + +"I commanded a squadron," replied Repnin. + +"Your regiment fulfilled its duty honorably," said Napoleon. + +"The praise of a great commander is a soldier's highest reward," +said Repnin. + +"I bestow it with pleasure," said Napoleon. "And who is that young +man beside you?" + +Prince Repnin named Lieutenant Sukhtelen. + +After looking at him Napoleon smiled. + +"He's very young to come to meddle with us." + +"Youth is no hindrance to courage," muttered Sukhtelen in a +failing voice. + +"A splendid reply!" said Napoleon. "Young man, you will go far!" + +Prince Andrew, who had also been brought forward before the +Emperor's eyes to complete the show of prisoners, could not fail to +attract his attention. Napoleon apparently remembered seeing him on +the battlefield and, addressing him, again used the epithet "young +man" that was connected in his memory with Prince Andrew. + +"Well, and you, young man," said he. "How do you feel, mon brave?" + +Though five minutes before, Prince Andrew had been able to say a few +words to the soldiers who were carrying him, now with his eyes fixed +straight on Napoleon, he was silent.... So insignificant at that +moment seemed to him all the interests that engrossed Napoleon, so +mean did his hero himself with his paltry vanity and joy in victory +appear, compared to the lofty, equitable, and kindly sky which he +had seen and understood, that he could not answer him. + +Everything seemed so futile and insignificant in comparison with the +stern and solemn train of thought that weakness from loss of blood, +suffering, and the nearness of death aroused in him. Looking into +Napoleon's eyes Prince Andrew thought of the insignificance of +greatness, the unimportance of life which no one could understand, and +the still greater unimportance of death, the meaning of which no one +alive could understand or explain. + +The Emperor without waiting for an answer turned away and said to +one of the officers as he went: "Have these gentlemen attended to +and taken to my bivouac; let my doctor, Larrey, examine their +wounds. Au revoir, Prince Repnin!" and he spurred his horse and +galloped away. + +His face shone with self-satisfaction and pleasure. + +The soldiers who had carried Prince Andrew had noticed and taken the +little gold icon Princess Mary had hung round her brother's neck, +but seeing the favor the Emperor showed the prisoners, they now +hastened to return the holy image. + +Prince Andrew did not see how and by whom it was replaced, but the +little icon with its thin gold chain suddenly appeared upon his +chest outside his uniform. + +"It would be good," thought Prince Andrew, glancing at the icon +his sister had hung round his neck with such emotion and reverence, +"it would be good if everything were as clear and simple as it seems +to Mary. How good it would be to know where to seek for help in this +life, and what to expect after it beyond the grave! How happy and calm +I should be if I could now say: 'Lord, have mercy on me!'... But to +whom should I say that? Either to a Power indefinable, +incomprehensible, which I not only cannot address but which I cannot +even express in words--the Great All or Nothing-" said he to +himself, "or to that God who has been sewn into this amulet by Mary! +There is nothing certain, nothing at all except the unimportance of +everything I understand, and the greatness of something +incomprehensible but all-important." + +The stretchers moved on. At every jolt he again felt unendurable +pain; his feverishness increased and he grew delirious. Visions of his +father, wife, sister, and future son, and the tenderness he had felt +the night before the battle, the figure of the insignificant little +Napoleon, and above all this the lofty sky, formed the chief +subjects of his delirious fancies. + +The quiet home life and peaceful happiness of Bald Hills presented +itself to him. He was already enjoying that happiness when that little +Napoleon had suddenly appeared with his unsympathizing look of +shortsighted delight at the misery of others, and doubts and +torments had followed, and only the heavens promised peace. Toward +morning all these dreams melted and merged into the chaos and darkness +of unconciousness and oblivion which in the opinion of Napoleon's +doctor, Larrey, was much more likely to end in death than in +convalescence. + +"He is a nervous, bilious subject," said Larrey, "and will not +recover." + +And Prince Andrew, with others fatally wounded, was left to the care +of the inhabitants of the district. + + + + + +BOOK FOUR: 1806 + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Early in the year 1806 Nicholas Rostov returned home on leave. +Denisov was going home to Voronezh and Rostov persuaded him to +travel with him as far as Moscow and to stay with him there. Meeting a +comrade at the last post station but one before Moscow, Denisov had +drunk three bottles of wine with him and, despite the jolting ruts +across the snow-covered road, did not once wake up on the way to +Moscow, but lay at the bottom of the sleigh beside Rostov, who grew +more and more impatient the nearer they got to Moscow. + +"How much longer? How much longer? Oh, these insufferable streets, +shops, bakers' signboards, street lamps, and sleighs!" thought Rostov, +when their leave permits had been passed at the town gate and they had +entered Moscow. + +"Denisov! We're here! He's asleep," he added, leaning forward with +his whole body as if in that position he hoped to hasten the speed +of the sleigh. + +Denisov gave no answer. + +"There's the corner at the crossroads, where the cabman, Zakhar, has +his stand, and there's Zakhar himself and still the same horse! And +here's the little shop where we used to buy gingerbread! Can't you +hurry up? Now then!" + +"Which house is it?" asked the driver. + +"Why, that one, right at the end, the big one. Don't you see? That's +our house," said Rostov. "Of course, it's our house! Denisov, Denisov! +We're almost there!" + +Denisov raised his head, coughed, and made no answer. + +"Dmitri," said Rostov to his valet on the box, "those lights are +in our house, aren't they?" + +"Yes, sir, and there's a light in your father's study." + +"Then they've not gone to bed yet? What do you think? Mind now, +don't forget to put out my new coat," added Rostov, fingering his +new mustache. "Now then, get on," he shouted to the driver. "Do wake +up, Vaska!" he went on, turning to Denisov, whose head was again +nodding. "Come, get on! You shall have three rubles for vodka--get +on!" Rostov shouted, when the sleigh was only three houses from his +door. It seemed to him the horses were not moving at all. At last +the sleigh bore to the right, drew up at an entrance, and Rostov saw +overhead the old familiar cornice with a bit of plaster broken off, +the porch, and the post by the side of the pavement. He sprang out +before the sleigh stopped, and ran into the hall. The house stood cold +and silent, as if quite regardless of who had come to it. There was no +one in the hall. "Oh God! Is everyone all right?" he thought, stopping +for a moment with a sinking heart, and then immediately starting to +run along the hall and up the warped steps of the familiar +staircase. The well-known old door handle, which always angered the +countess when it was not properly cleaned, turned as loosely as +ever. A solitary tallow candle burned in the anteroom. + +Old Michael was asleep on the chest. Prokofy, the footman, who was +so strong that he could lift the back of the carriage from behind, sat +plaiting slippers out of cloth selvedges. He looked up at the +opening door and his expression of sleepy indifference suddenly +changed to one of delighted amazement. + +"Gracious heavens! The young count!" he cried, recognizing his young +master. "Can it be? My treasure!" and Prokofy, trembling with +excitement, rushed toward the drawing-room door, probably in order +to announce him, but, changing his mind, came back and stooped to kiss +the young man's shoulder. + +"All well?" asked Rostov, drawing away his arm. + +"Yes, God be thanked! Yes! They've just finished supper. Let me have +a look at you, your excellency." + +"Is everything quite all right?" + +"The Lord be thanked, yes!" + +Rostov, who had completely forgotten Denisov, not wishing anyone +to forestall him, threw off his fur coat and ran on tiptoe through the +large dark ballroom. All was the same: there were the same old card +tables and the same chandelier with a cover over it; but someone had +already seen the young master, and, before he had reached the +drawing room, something flew out from a side door like a tornado and +began hugging and kissing him. Another and yet another creature of the +same kind sprang from a second door and a third; more hugging, more +kissing, more outcries, and tears of joy. He could not distinguish +which was Papa, which Natasha, and which Petya. Everyone shouted, +talked, and kissed him at the same time. Only his mother was not +there, he noticed that. + +"And I did not know... Nicholas... My darling!..." + +"Here he is... our own... Kolya,* dear fellow... How he has +changed!... Where are the candles?... Tea!..." + + +*Nicholas. + + +"And me, kiss me!" + +"Dearest... and me!" + +Sonya, Natasha, Petya, Anna Mikhaylovna, Vera, and the old count +were all hugging him, and the serfs, men and maids, flocked into the +room, exclaiming and oh-ing and ah-ing. + +Petya, clinging to his legs, kept shouting, "And me too!" + +Natasha, after she had pulled him down toward her and covered his +face with kisses, holding him tight by the skirt of his coat, sprang +away and pranced up and down in one place like a goat and shrieked +piercingly. + +All around were loving eyes glistening with tears of joy, and all +around were lips seeking a kiss. + +Sonya too, all rosy red, clung to his arm and, radiant with bliss, +looked eagerly toward his eyes, waiting for the look for which she +longed. Sonya now was sixteen and she was very pretty, especially at +this moment of happy, rapturous excitement. She gazed at him, not +taking her eyes off him, and smiling and holding her breath. He gave +her a grateful look, but was still expectant and looking for +someone. The old countess had not yet come. But now steps were heard +at the door, steps so rapid that they could hardly be his mother's. + +Yet it was she, dressed in a new gown which he did not know, made +since he had left. All the others let him go, and he ran to her. +When they met, she fell on his breast, sobbing. She could not lift her +face, but only pressed it to the cold braiding of his hussar's jacket. +Denisov, who had come into the room unnoticed by anyone, stood there +and wiped his eyes at the sight. + +"Vasili Denisov, your son's friend," he said, introducing himself to +the count, who was looking inquiringly at him. + +"You are most welcome! I know, I know," said the count, kissing +and embracing Denisov. "Nicholas wrote us... Natasha, Vera, look! Here +is Denisov!" + +The same happy, rapturous faces turned to the shaggy figure of +Denisov. + +"Darling Denisov!" screamed Natasha, beside herself with rapture, +springing to him, putting her arms round him, and kissing him. This +escapade made everybody feel confused. Denisov blushed too, but smiled +and, taking Natasha's hand, kissed it. + +Denisov was shown to the room prepared for him, and the Rostovs +all gathered round Nicholas in the sitting room. + +The old countess, not letting go of his hand and kissing it every +moment, sat beside him: the rest, crowding round him, watched every +movement, word, or look of his, never taking their blissfully +adoring eyes off him. His brother and sisters struggled for the places +nearest to him and disputed with one another who should bring him +his tea, handkerchief, and pipe. + +Rostov was very happy in the love they showed him; but the first +moment of meeting had been so beatific that his present joy seemed +insufficient, and he kept expecting something more, more and yet more. + +Next morning, after the fatigues of their journey, the travelers +slept till ten o'clock. + +In the room next their bedroom there was a confusion of sabers, +satchels, sabretaches, open portmanteaus, and dirty boots. Two freshly +cleaned pairs with spurs had just been placed by the wall. The +servants were bringing in jugs and basins, hot water for shaving, +and their well-brushed clothes. There was a masculine odor and a smell +of tobacco. + +"Hallo, Gwiska--my pipe!" came Vasili Denisov's husky voice. +"Wostov, get up!" + +Rostov, rubbing his eyes that seemed glued together, raised his +disheveled head from the hot pillow. + +"Why, is it late?" + +"Late! It's nearly ten o'clock," answered Natasha's voice. A +rustle of starched petticoats and the whispering and laughter of +girls' voices came from the adjoining room. The door was opened a +crack and there was a glimpse of something blue, of ribbons, black +hair, and merry faces. It was Natasha, Sonya, and Petya, who had +come to see whether they were getting up. + +"Nicholas! Get up!" Natasha's voice was again heard at the door. + +"Directly!" + +Meanwhile, Petya, having found and seized the sabers in the outer +room, with the delight boys feel at the sight of a military elder +brother, and forgetting that it was unbecoming for the girls to see +men undressed, opened the bedroom door. + +"Is this your saber?" he shouted. + +The girls sprang aside. Denisov hid his hairy legs under the +blanket, looking with a scared face at his comrade for help. The door, +having let Petya in, closed again. A sound of laughter came from +behind it. + +"Nicholas! Come out in your dressing gown!" said Natasha's voice. + +"Is this your saber?" asked Petya. "Or is it yours?" he said, +addressing the black-mustached Denisov with servile deference. + +Rostov hurriedly put something on his feet, drew on his dressing +gown, and went out. Natasha had put on one spurred boot and was just +getting her foot into the other. Sonya, when he came in, was +twirling round and was about to expand her dresses into a balloon +and sit down. They were dressed alike, in new pale-blue frocks, and +were both fresh, rosy, and bright. Sonya ran away, but Natasha, taking +her brother's arm, led him into the sitting room, where they began +talking. They hardly gave one another time to ask questions and give +replies concerning a thousand little matters which could not +interest anyone but themselves. Natasha laughed at every word he +said or that she said herself, not because what they were saying was +amusing, but because she felt happy and was unable to control her +joy which expressed itself by laughter. + +"Oh, how nice, how splendid!" she said to everything. + +Rostov felt that, under the influence of the warm rays of love, that +childlike smile which had not once appeared on his face since he +left home now for the first time after eighteen months again +brightened his soul and his face. + +"No, but listen," she said, "now you are quite a man, aren't you? +I'm awfully glad you're my brother." She touched his mustache. "I want +to know what you men are like. Are you the same as we? No?" + +"Why did Sonya run away?" asked Rostov. + +"Ah, yes! That's a whole long story! How are you going to speak to +her--thou or you?" + +"As may happen," said Rostov. + +"No, call her you, please! I'll tell you all about it some other +time. No, I'll tell you now. You know Sonya's my dearest friend. +Such a friend that I burned my arm for her sake. Look here!" + +She pulled up her muslin sleeve and showed him a red scar on her +long, slender, delicate arm, high above the elbow on that part that is +covered even by a ball dress. + +"I burned this to prove my love for her. I just heated a ruler in +the fire and pressed it there!" + +Sitting on the sofa with the little cushions on its arms, in what +used to be his old schoolroom, and looking into Natasha's wildly +bright eyes, Rostov re-entered that world of home and childhood +which had no meaning for anyone else, but gave him some of the best +joys of his life; and the burning of an arm with a ruler as a proof of +love did not seem to him senseless, he understood and was not +surprised at it. + +"Well, and is that all?" he asked. + +"We are such friends, such friends! All that ruler business was just +nonsense, but we are friends forever. She, if she loves anyone, does +it for life, but I don't understand that, I forget quickly." + +"Well, what then?" + +"Well, she loves me and you like that." + +Natasha suddenly flushed. + +"Why, you remember before you went away?... Well, she says you are +to forget all that.... She says: 'I shall love him always, but let him +be free.' Isn't that lovely and noble! Yes, very noble? Isn't it?" +asked Natasha, so seriously and excitedly that it was evident that +what she was now saying she had talked of before, with tears. + +Rostov became thoughtful. + +"I never go back on my word," he said. "Besides, Sonya is so +charming that only a fool would renounce such happiness." + +"No, no!" cried Natasha, "she and I have already talked it over. +We knew you'd say so. But it won't do, because you see, if you say +that--if you consider yourself bound by your promise--it will seem +as if she had not meant it seriously. It makes it as if you were +marrying her because you must, and that wouldn't do at all." + +Rostov saw that it had been well considered by them. Sonya had +already struck him by her beauty on the preceding day. Today, when +he had caught a glimpse of her, she seemed still more lovely. She +was a charming girl of sixteen, evidently passionately in love with +him (he did not doubt that for an instant). Why should he not love her +now, and even marry her, Rostov thought, but just now there were so +many other pleasures and interests before him! "Yes, they have taken a +wise decision," he thought, "I must remain free." + +"Well then, that's excellent," said he. "We'll talk it over later +on. Oh, how glad I am to have you!" + +"Well, and are you still true to Boris?" he continued. + +"Oh, what nonsense!" cried Natasha, laughing. "I don't think about +him or anyone else, and I don't want anything of the kind." + +"Dear me! Then what are you up now?" + +"Now?" repeated Natasha, and a happy smile lit up her face. "Have +you seen Duport?" + +"No." + +"Not seen Duport--the famous dancer? Well then, you won't +understand. That's what I'm up to." + +Curving her arms, Natasha held out her skirts as dancers do, ran +back a few steps, turned, cut a caper, brought her little feet sharply +together, and made some steps on the very tips of her toes. + +"See, I'm standing! See!" she said, but could not maintain herself +on her toes any longer. "So that's what I'm up to! I'll never marry +anyone, but will be a dancer. Only don't tell anyone." + +Rostov laughed so loud and merrily that Denisov, in his bedroom, +felt envious and Natasha could not help joining in. + +"No, but don't you think it's nice?" she kept repeating. + +"Nice! And so you no longer wish to marry Boris?" + +Natasha flared up. "I don't want to marry anyone. And I'll tell +him so when I see him!" + +"Dear me!" said Rostov. + +"But that's all rubbish," Natasha chattered on. "And is Denisov +nice?" she asked. + +"Yes, indeed!" + +"Oh, well then, good-by: go and dress. Is he very terrible, +Denisov?" + +"Why terrible?" asked Nicholas. "No, Vaska is a splendid fellow." + +"You call him Vaska? That's funny! And is he very nice?" + +"Very." + +"Well then, be quick. We'll all have breakfast together." + +And Natasha rose and went out of the room on tiptoe, like a ballet +dancer, but smiling as only happy girls of fifteen can smile. When +Rostov met Sonya in the drawing room, he reddened. He did not know how +to behave with her. The evening before, in the first happy moment of +meeting, they had kissed each other, but today they felt it could +not be done; he felt that everybody, including his mother and sisters, +was looking inquiringly at him and watching to see how he would behave +with her. He kissed her hand and addressed her not as thou but as you- +Sonya. But their eyes met and said thou, and exchanged tender +kisses. Her looks asked him to forgive her for having dared, by +Natasha's intermediacy, to remind him of his promise, and then thanked +him for his love. His looks thanked her for offering him his freedom +and told her that one way or another he would never cease to love her, +for that would be impossible. + +"How strange it is," said Vera, selecting a moment when all were +silent, "that Sonya and Nicholas now say you to one another and meet +like strangers." + +Vera's remark was correct, as her remarks always were, but, like +most of her observations, it made everyone feel uncomfortable, not +only Sonya, Nicholas, and Natasha, but even the old countess, who- +dreading this love affair which might hinder Nicholas from making a +brilliant match--blushed like a girl. + +Denisov, to Rostov's surprise, appeared in the drawing room with +pomaded hair, perfumed, and in a new uniform, looking just as smart as +he made himself when going into battle, and he was more amiable to the +ladies and gentlemen than Rostov had ever expected to see him. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +On his return to Moscow from the army, Nicholas Rostov was +welcomed by his home circle as the best of sons, a hero, and their +darling Nikolenka; by his relations as a charming, attractive, and +polite young man; by his acquaintances as a handsome lieutenant of +hussars, a good dancer, and one of the best matches in the city. + +The Rostovs knew everybody in Moscow. The old count had money enough +that year, as all his estates had been remortgaged, and so Nicholas, +acquiring a trotter of his own, very stylish riding breeches of the +latest cut, such as no one else yet had in Moscow, and boots of the +latest fashion, with extremely pointed toes and small silver spurs, +passed his time very gaily. After a short period of adapting himself +to the old conditions of life, Nicholas found it very pleasant to be +at home again. He felt that he had grown up and matured very much. His +despair at failing in a Scripture examination, his borrowing money +from Gavril to pay a sleigh driver, his kissing Sonya on the sly--he +now recalled all this as childishness he had left immeasurably behind. +Now he was a lieutenant of hussars, in a jacket laced with silver, and +wearing the Cross of St. George, awarded to soldiers for bravery in +action, and in the company of well-known, elderly, and respected +racing men was training a trotter of his own for a race. He knew a +lady on one of the boulevards whom he visited of an evening. He led +the mazurka at the Arkharovs' ball, talked about the war with Field +Marshal Kamenski, visited the English Club, and was on intimate +terms with a colonel of forty to whom Denisov had introduced him. + +His passion for the Emperor had cooled somewhat in Moscow. But +still, as he did not see him and had no opportunity of seeing him, +he often spoke about him and about his love for him, letting it be +understood that he had not told all and that there was something in +his feelings for the Emperor not everyone could understand, and with +his whole soul he shared the adoration then common in Moscow for the +Emperor, who was spoken of as the "angel incarnate." + +During Rostov's short stay in Moscow, before rejoining the army, +he did not draw closer to Sonya, but rather drifted away from her. She +was very pretty and sweet, and evidently deeply in love with him, +but he was at the period of youth when there seems so much to do +that there is no time for that sort of thing and a young man fears +to bind himself and prizes his freedom which he needs for so many +other things. When he thought of Sonya, during this stay in Moscow, he +said to himself, "Ah, there will be, and there are, many more such +girls somewhere whom I do not yet know. There will be time enough to +think about love when I want to, but now I have no time." Besides, +it seemed to him that the society of women was rather derogatory to +his manhood. He went to balls and into ladies' society with an +affectation of doing so against his will. The races, the English Club, +sprees with Denisov, and visits to a certain house--that was another +matter and quite the thing for a dashing young hussar! + +At the beginning of March, old Count Ilya Rostov was very busy +arranging a dinner in honor of Prince Bagration at the English Club. + +The count walked up and down the hall in his dressing gown, giving +orders to the club steward and to the famous Feoktist, the Club's head +cook, about asparagus, fresh cucumbers, strawberries, veal, and fish +for this dinner. The count had been a member and on the committee of +the Club from the day it was founded. To him the Club entrusted the +arrangement of the festival in honor of Bagration, for few men knew so +well how to arrange a feast on an open-handed, hospitable scale, and +still fewer men would be so well able and willing to make up out of +their own resources what might be needed for the success of the +fete. The club cook and the steward listened to the count's orders +with pleased faces, for they knew that under no other management could +they so easily extract a good profit for themselves from a dinner +costing several thousand rubles. + +"Well then, mind and have cocks' comb in the turtle soup, you know!" + +"Shall we have three cold dishes then?" asked the cook. + +The count considered. + +"We can't have less--yes, three... the mayonnaise, that's one," said +he, bending down a finger. + +"Then am I to order those large sterlets?" asked the steward. + +"Yes, it can't be helped if they won't take less. Ah, dear me! I was +forgetting. We must have another entree. Ah, goodness gracious!" he +clutched at his head. "Who is going to get me the flowers? Dmitri! Eh, +Dmitri! Gallop off to our Moscow estate," he said to the factotum +who appeared at his call. "Hurry off and tell Maksim, the gardener, to +set the serfs to work. Say that everything out of the hothouses must +be brought here well wrapped up in felt. I must have two hundred +pots here on Friday." + +Having given several more orders, he was about to go to his +"little countess" to have a rest, but remembering something else of +importance, he returned again, called back the cook and the club +steward, and again began giving orders. A light footstep and the +clinking of spurs were heard at the door, and the young count, +handsome, rosy, with a dark little mustache, evidently rested and made +sleeker by his easy life in Moscow, entered the room. + +"Ah, my boy, my head's in a whirl!" said the old man with a smile, +as if he felt a little confused before his son. "Now, if you would +only help a bit! I must have singers too. I shall have my own +orchestra, but shouldn't we get the gypsy singers as well? You +military men like that sort of thing." + +"Really, Papa, I believe Prince Bagration worried himself less +before the battle of Schon Grabern than you do now," said his son with +a smile. + +The old count pretended to be angry. + +"Yes, you talk, but try it yourself!" + +And the count turned to the cook, who, with a shrewd and +respectful expression, looked observantly and sympathetically at the +father and son. + +"What have the young people come to nowadays, eh, Feoktist?" said +he. "Laughing at us old fellows!" + +"That's so, your excellency, all they have to do is to eat a good +dinner, but providing it and serving it all up, that's not their +business!" + +"That's it, that's it!" exclaimed the count, and gaily seizing his +son by both hands, he cried, "Now I've got you, so take the sleigh and +pair at once, and go to Bezukhob's, and tell him 'Count Ilya has +sent you to ask for strawberries and fresh pineapples.' We can't get +them from anyone else. He's not there himself, so you'll have to go in +and ask the princesses; and from there go on to the Rasgulyay--the +coachman Ipatka knows--and look up the gypsy Ilyushka, the one who +danced at Count Orlov's, you remember, in a white Cossack coat, and +bring him along to me." + +"And am I to bring the gypsy girls along with him?" asked +Nicholas, laughing. "Dear, dear!..." + +At that moment, with noiseless footsteps and with the +businesslike, preoccupied, yet meekly Christian look which never +left her face, Anna Mikhaylovna entered the hall. Though she came upon +the count in his dressing gown every day, he invariably became +confused and begged her to excuse his costume. + +"No matter at all, my dear count," she said, meekly closing her +eyes. "But I'll go to Bezukhov's myself. Pierre has arrived, and now +we shall get anything we want from his hothouses. I have to see him in +any case. He has forwarded me a letter from Boris. Thank God, Boris is +now on the staff." + +The count was delighted at Anna Mikhaylovna's taking upon herself +one of his commissions and ordered the small closed carriage for her. + +"Tell Bezukhov to come. I'll put his name down. Is his wife with +him?" he asked. + +Anna Mikhaylovna turned up her eyes, and profound sadness was +depicted on her face. + +"Ah, my dear friend, he is very unfortunate," she said. "If what +we hear is true, it is dreadful. How little we dreamed of such a thing +when we were rejoicing at his happiness! And such a lofty angelic soul +as young Bezukhov! Yes, I pity him from my heart, and shall try to +give him what consolation I can." + +"Wh-what is the matter?" asked both the young and old Rostov. + +Anna Mikhaylovna sighed deeply. + +"Dolokhov, Mary Ivanovna's son," she said in a mysterious whisper, +"has compromised her completely, they say. Pierre took him up, invited +him to his house in Petersburg, and now... she has come here and +that daredevil after her!" said Anna Mikhaylovna, wishing to show +her sympathy for Pierre, but by involuntary intonations and a half +smile betraying her sympathy for the "daredevil," as she called +Dolokhov. "They say Pierre is quite broken by his misfortune." + +"Dear, dear! But still tell him to come to the Club--it will all +blow over. It will be a tremendous banquet." + +Next day, the third of March, soon after one o'clock, two hundred +and fifty members of the English Club and fifty guests were awaiting +the guest of honor and hero of the Austrian campaign, Prince +Bagration, to dinner. + +On the first arrival of the news of the battle of Austerlitz, Moscow +had been bewildered. At that time, the Russians were so used to +victories that on receiving news of the defeat some would simply not +believe it, while others sought some extraordinary explanation of so +strange an event. In the English Club, where all who were +distinguished, important, and well informed forgathered when the +news began to arrive in December, nothing was said about the war and +the last battle, as though all were in a conspiracy of silence. The +men who set the tone in conversation--Count Rostopchin, Prince Yuri +Dolgorukov, Valuev, Count Markov, and Prince Vyazemski--did not show +themselves at the Club, but met in private houses in intimate circles, +and the Moscovites who took their opinions from others--Ilya Rostov +among them--remained for a while without any definite opinion on the +subject of the war and without leaders. The Moscovites felt that +something was wrong and that to discuss the bad news was difficult, +and so it was best to be silent. But after a while, just as a jury +comes out of its room, the bigwigs who guided the Club's opinion +reappeared, and everybody began speaking clearly and definitely. +Reasons were found for the incredible, unheard-of, and impossible +event of a Russian defeat, everything became clear, and in all corners +of Moscow the same things began to be said. These reasons were the +treachery of the Austrians, a defective commissariat, the treachery of +the Pole Przebyszewski and of the Frenchman Langeron, Kutuzov's +incapacity, and (it was whispered) the youth and inexperience of the +sovereign, who had trusted worthless and insignificant people. But the +army, the Russian army, everyone declared, was extraordinary and had +achieved miracles of valor. The soldiers, officers, and generals were +heroes. But the hero of heroes was Prince Bagration, distinguished +by his Schon Grabern affair and by the retreat from Austerlitz, +where he alone had withdrawn his column unbroken and had all day +beaten back an enemy force twice as numerous as his own. What also +conduced to Bagration's being selected as Moscow's hero was the fact +that he had no connections in the city and was a stranger there. In +his person, honor was shown to a simple fighting Russian soldier +without connections and intrigues, and to one who was associated by +memories of the Italian campaign with the name of Suvorov. Moreover, +paying such honor to Bagration was the best way of expressing +disapproval and dislike of Kutuzov. + +"Had there been no Bagration, it would have been necessary to invent +him," said the wit Shinshin, parodying the words of Voltaire. +Kutuzov no one spoke of, except some who abused him in whispers, +calling him a court weathercock and an old satyr. + +All Moscow repeated Prince Dolgorukov's saying: "If you go on +modeling and modeling you must get smeared with clay," suggesting +consolation for our defeat by the memory of former victories; and +the words of Rostopchin, that French soldiers have to be incited to +battle by highfalutin words, and Germans by logical arguments to +show them that it is more dangerous to run away than to advance, but +that Russian soldiers only need to be restrained and held back! On all +sides, new and fresh anecdotes were heard of individual examples of +heroism shown by our officers and men at Austerlitz. One had saved a +standard, another had killed five Frenchmen, a third had loaded five +cannon singlehanded. Berg was mentioned, by those who did not know +him, as having, when wounded in the right hand, taken his sword in the +left, and gone forward. Of Bolkonski, nothing was said, and only those +who knew him intimately regretted that he had died so young, leaving a +pregnant wife with his eccentric father. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +On that third of March, all the rooms in the English Club were +filled with a hum of conversation, like the hum of bees swarming in +springtime. The members and guests of the Club wandered hither and +thither, sat, stood, met, and separated, some in uniform and some in +evening dress, and a few here and there with powdered hair and in +Russian kaftans. Powdered footmen, in livery with buckled shoes and +smart stockings, stood at every door anxiously noting visitors' +every movement in order to offer their services. Most of those present +were elderly, respected men with broad, self-confident faces, fat +fingers, and resolute gestures and voices. This class of guests and +members sat in certain habitual places and met in certain habitual +groups. A minority of those present were casual guests--chiefly +young men, among whom were Denisov, Rostov, and Dolokhov--who was +now again an officer in the Semenov regiment. The faces of these young +people, especially those who were militarymen, bore that expression of +condescending respect for their elders which seems to say to the older +generation, "We are prepared to respect and honor you, but all the +same remember that the future belongs to us." + +Nesvitski was there as an old member of the Club. Pierre, who at his +wife's command had let his hair grow and abandoned his spectacles, +went about the rooms fashionably dressed but looking sad and dull. +Here, as elsewhere, he was surrounded by an atmosphere of subservience +to his wealth, and being in the habit of lording it over these people, +he treated them with absent-minded contempt. + +By his age he should have belonged to the younger men, but by his +wealth and connections he belonged to the groups old and honored +guests, and so he went from one group to another. Some of the most +important old men were the center of groups which even strangers +approached respectfully to hear the voices of well-known men. The +largest circles formed round Count Rostopchin, Valuev, and +Naryshkin. Rostopchin was describing how the Russians had been +overwhelmed by flying Austrians and had had to force their way through +them with bayonets. + +Valuev was confidentially telling that Uvarov had been sent from +Petersburg to ascertain what Moscow was thinking about Austerlitz. + +In the third circle, Naryshkin was speaking of the meeting of the +Austrian Council of War at which Suvorov crowed like a cock in reply +to the nonsense talked by the Austrian generals. Shinshin, standing +close by, tried to make a joke, saying that Kutuzov had evidently +failed to learn from Suvorov even so simple a thing as the art of +crowing like a cock, but the elder members glanced severely at the +wit, making him feel that in that place and on that day, it was +improper to speak so of Kutuzov. + +Count Ilya Rostov, hurried and preoccupied, went about in his soft +boots between the dining and drawing rooms, hastily greeting the +important and unimportant, all of whom he knew, as if they were all +equals, while his eyes occasionally sought out his fine well-set-up +young son, resting on him and winking joyfully at him. Young Rostov +stood at a window with Dolokhov, whose acquaintance he had lately made +and highly valued. The old count came up to them and pressed +Dolokhov's hand. + +"Please come and visit us... you know my brave boy... been +together out there... both playing the hero... Ah, Vasili +Ignatovich... How d'ye do, old fellow?" he said, turning to an old man +who was passing, but before he had finished his greeting there was a +general stir, and a footman who had run in announced, with a +frightened face: "He's arrived!" + +Bells rang, the stewards rushed forward, and--like rye shaken +together in a shovel--the guests who had been scattered about in +different rooms came together and crowded in the large drawing room by +the door of the ballroom. + +Bagration appeared in the doorway of the anteroom without hat or +sword, which, in accord with the Club custom, he had given up to the +hall porter. He had no lambskin cap on his head, nor had he a loaded +whip over his shoulder, as when Rostov had seen him on the eve of +the battle of Austerlitz, but wore a tight new uniform with Russian +and foreign Orders, and the Star of St. George on his left breast. +Evidently just before coming to the dinner he had had his hair and +whiskers trimmed, which changed his appearance for the worse. There +was something naively festive in his air, which, in conjunction with +his firm and virile features, gave him a rather comical expression. +Bekleshev and Theodore Uvarov, who had arrived with him, paused at the +doorway to allow him, as the guest of honor, to enter first. Bagration +was embarrassed, not wishing to avail himself of their courtesy, and +this caused some delay at the doors, but after all he did at last +enter first. He walked shyly and awkwardly over the parquet floor of +the reception room, not knowing what to do with his hands; he was more +accustomed to walk over a plowed field under fire, as he had done at +the head of the Kursk regiment at Schon Grabern--and he would have +found that easier. The committeemen met him at the first door and, +expressing their delight at seeing such a highly honored guest, took +possession of him as it were, without waiting for his reply, +surrounded him, and led him to the drawing room. It was at first +impossible to enter the drawing-room door for the crowd of members and +guests jostling one another and trying to get a good look at Bagration +over each other's shoulders, as if he were some rare animal. Count +Ilya Rostov, laughing and repeating the words, "Make way, dear boy! +Make way, make way!" pushed through the crowd more energetically +than anyone, led the guests into the drawing room, and seated them +on the center sofa. The bigwigs, the most respected members of the +Club, beset the new arrivals. Count Ilya, again thrusting his way +through the crowd, went out of the drawing room and reappeared a +minute later with another committeeman, carrying a large silver salver +which he presented to Prince Bagration. On the salver lay some +verses composed and printed in the hero's honor. Bagration, on +seeing the salver, glanced around in dismay, as though seeking help. +But all eyes demanded that he should submit. Feeling himself in +their power, he resolutely took the salver with both hands and +looked sternly and reproachfully at the count who had presented it +to him. Someone obligingly took the dish from Bagration (or he +would, it seemed, have held it till evening and have gone in to dinner +with it) and drew his attention to the verses. + +"Well, I will read them, then!" Bagration seemed to say, and, fixing +his weary eyes on the paper, began to read them with a fixed and +serious expression. But the author himself took the verses and began +reading them aloud. Bagration bowed his bead and listened: + + Bring glory then to Alexander's reign + And on the throne our Titus shield. + A dreaded foe be thou, kindhearted as a man, + A Rhipheus at home, a Caesar in the field! + E'en fortunate Napoleon + Knows by experience, now, Bagration, + And dare not Herculean Russians trouble... + +But before he had finished reading, a stentorian major-domo +announced that dinner was ready! The door opened, and from the +dining room came the resounding strains of the polonaise: + + Conquest's joyful thunder waken, + Triumph, valiant Russians, now!... + +and Count Rostov, glancing angrily at the author who went on reading +his verses, bowed to Bagration. Everyone rose, feeling that dinner was +more important than verses, and Bagration, again preceding all the +rest, went in to dinner. He was seated in the place of honor between +two Alexanders--Bekleshev and Naryshkin--which was a significant +allusion to the name of the sovereign. Three hundred persons took +their seats in the dining room, according to their rank and +importance: the more important nearer to the honored guest, as +naturally as water flows deepest where the land lies lowest. + +Just before dinner, Count Ilya Rostov presented his son to +Bagration, who recognized him and said a few words to him, +disjointed and awkward, as were all the words he spoke that day, and +Count Ilya looked joyfully and proudly around while Bagration spoke to +his son. + +Nicholas Rostov, with Denisov and his new acquaintance, Dolokhov, +sat almost at the middle of the table. Facing them sat Pierre, +beside Prince Nesvitski. Count Ilya Rostov with the other members of +the committee sat facing Bagration and, as the very personification of +Moscow hospitality, did the honors to the prince. + +His efforts had not been in vain. The dinner, both the Lenten and +the other fare, was splendid, yet he could not feel quite at ease till +the end of the meal. He winked at the butler, whispered directions +to the footmen, and awaited each expected dish with some anxiety. +Everything was excellent. With the second course, a gigantic sterlet +(at sight of which Ilya Rostov blushed with self-conscious +pleasure), the footmen began popping corks and filling the champagne +glasses. After the fish, which made a certain sensation, the count +exchanged glances with the other committeemen. "There will be many +toasts, it's time to begin," he whispered, and taking up his glass, he +rose. All were silent, waiting for what he would say. + +"To the health of our Sovereign, the Emperor!" he cried, and at +the same moment his kindly eyes grew moist with tears of joy and +enthusiasm. The band immediately struck up "Conquest's joyful +thunder waken..." All rose and cried "Hurrah!" Bagration also rose and +shouted "Hurrah!" in exactly the same voice in which he had shouted it +on the field at Schon Grabern. Young Rostov's ecstatic voice could +be heard above the three hundred others. He nearly wept. "To the +health of our Sovereign, the Emperor!" he roared, "Hurrah!" and +emptying his glass at one gulp he dashed it to the floor. Many +followed his example, and the loud shouting continued for a long time. +When the voices subsided, the footmen cleared away the broken glass +and everybody sat down again, smiling at the noise they had made and +exchanging remarks. The old count rose once more, glanced at a note +lying beside his plate, and proposed a toast, "To the health of the +hero of our last campaign, Prince Peter Ivanovich Bagration!" and +again his blue eyes grew moist. "Hurrah!" cried the three hundred +voices again, but instead of the band a choir began singing a +cantata composed by Paul Ivanovich Kutuzov: + + Russians! O'er all barriers on! + Courage conquest guarantees; + Have we not Bagration? + He brings foe men to their knees,... etc. + + +As soon as the singing was over, another and another toast was +proposed and Count Ilya Rostov became more and more moved, more +glass was smashed, and the shouting grew louder. They drank to +Bekleshev, Naryshkin, Uvarov, Dolgorukov, Apraksin, Valuev, to the +committee, to all the Club members and to all the Club guests, and +finally to Count Ilya Rostov separately, as the organizer of the +banquet. At that toast, the count took out his handkerchief and, +covering his face, wept outright. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Pierre sat opposite Dolokhov and Nicholas Rostov. As usual, he ate +and drank much, and eagerly. But those who knew him intimately noticed +that some great change had come over him that day. He was silent all +through dinner and looked about, blinking and scowling, or, with fixed +eyes and a look of complete absent-mindedness, kept rubbing the bridge +of his nose. His face was depressed and gloomy. He seemed to see and +hear nothing of what was going on around him and to be absorbed by +some depressing and unsolved problem. + +The unsolved problem that tormented him was caused by hints given by +the princess, his cousin, at Moscow, concerning Dolokhov's intimacy +with his wife, and by an anonymous letter he had received that +morning, which in the mean jocular way common to anonymous letters +said that he saw badly through his spectacles, but that his wife's +connection with Dolokhov was a secret to no one but himself. Pierre +absolutely disbelieved both the princess' hints and the letter, but he +feared now to look at Dolokhov, who was sitting opposite him. Every +time he chanced to meet Dolokhov's handsome insolent eyes, Pierre felt +something terrible and monstrous rising in his soul and turned quickly +away. Involuntarily recalling his wife's past and her relations with +Dolokhov, Pierre saw clearly that what was said in the letter might be +true, or might at least seem to be true had it not referred to his +wife. He involuntarily remembered how Dolokhov, who had fully +recovered his former position after the campaign, had returned to +Petersburg and come to him. Availing himself of his friendly relations +with Pierre as a boon companion, Dolokhov had come straight to his +house, and Pierre had put him up and lent him money. Pierre recalled +how Helene had smilingly expressed disapproval of Dolokhov's living at +their house, and how cynically Dolokhov had praised his wife's +beauty to him and from that time till they came to Moscow had not left +them for a day. + +"Yes, he is very handsome," thought Pierre, "and I know him. It +would be particularly pleasant to him to dishonor my name and ridicule +me, just because I have exerted myself on his behalf, befriended +him, and helped him. I know and understand what a spice that would add +to the pleasure of deceiving me, if it really were true. Yes, if it +were true, but I do not believe it. I have no right to, and can't, +believe it." He remembered the expression Dolokhov's face assumed in +his moments of cruelty, as when tying the policeman to the bear and +dropping them into the water, or when he challenged a man to a duel +without any reason, or shot a post-boy's horse with a pistol. That +expression was often on Dolokhov's face when looking at him. "Yes, +he is a bully," thought Pierre, "to kill a man means nothing to him. +It must seem to him that everyone is afraid of him, and that must +please him. He must think that I, too, am afraid of him--and in fact I +am afraid of him," he thought, and again he felt something terrible +and monstrous rising in his soul. Dolokhov, Denisov, and Rostov were +now sitting opposite Pierre and seemed very gay. Rostov was talking +merrily to his two friends, one of whom was a dashing hussar and the +other a notorious duelist and rake, and every now and then he +glanced ironically at Pierre, whose preoccupied, absent-minded, and +massive figure was a very noticeable one at the dinner. Rostov +looked inimically at Pierre, first because Pierre appeared to his +hussar eyes as a rich civilian, the husband of a beauty, and in a +word--an old woman; and secondly because Pierre in his preoccupation +and absent-mindedness had not recognized Rostov and had not +responded to his greeting. When the Emperor's health was drunk, +Pierre, lost in thought, did not rise or lift his glass. + +"What are you about?" shouted Rostov, looking at him in an ecstasy +of exasperation. "Don't you hear it's His Majesty the Emperor's +health?" + +Pierre sighed, rose submissively, emptied his glass, and, waiting +till all were seated again, turned with his kindly smile to Rostov. + +"Why, I didn't recognize you!" he said. But Rostov was otherwise +engaged; he was shouting "Hurrah!" + +"Why don't you renew the acquaintance?" said Dolokhov to Rostov. + +"Confound him, he's a fool!" said Rostov. + +"One should make up to the husbands of pretty women," said Denisov. + +Pierre did not catch what they were saying, but knew they were +talking about him. He reddened and turned away. + +"Well, now to the health of handsome women!" said Dolokhov, and with +a serious expression, but with a smile lurking at the corners of his +mouth, he turned with his glass to Pierre. + +"Here's to the health of lovely women, Peterkin--and their +lovers!" he added. + +Pierre, with downcast eyes, drank out of his glass without looking +at Dolokhov or answering him. The footman, who was distributing +leaflets with Kutuzov's cantata, laid one before Pierre as one of +the principal guests. He was just going to take it when Dolokhov, +leaning across, snatched it from his hand and began reading it. Pierre +looked at Dolokhov and his eyes dropped, the something terrible and +monstrous that had tormented him all dinnertime rose and took +possession of him. He leaned his whole massive body across the table. + +"How dare you take it?" he shouted. + +Hearing that cry and seeing to whom it was addressed, Nesvitski +and the neighbor on his right quickly turned in alarm to Bezukhov. + +"Don't! Don't! What are you about?" whispered their frightened +voices. + +Dolokhov looked at Pierre with clear, mirthful, cruel eyes, and that +smile of his which seemed to say, "Ah! This is what I like!" + +"You shan't have it!" he said distinctly. + +Pale, with quivering lips, Pierre snatched the copy. + +"You...! you... scoundrel! I challenge you!" he ejaculated, and, +pushing back his chair, he rose from the table. + +At the very instant he did this and uttered those words, Pierre felt +that the question of his wife's guilt which had been tormenting him +the whole day was finally and indubitably answered in the affirmative. +He hated her and was forever sundered from her. Despite Denisov's +request that he would take no part in the matter, Rostov agreed to +be Dolokhov's second, and after dinner he discussed the arrangements +for the duel with Nesvitski, Bezukhov's second. Pierre went home, +but Rostov with Dolokhov and Denisov stayed on at the Club till +late, listening to the gypsies and other singers. + +"Well then, till tomorrow at Sokolniki," said Dolokhov, as he took +leave of Rostov in the Club porch. + +"And do you feel quite calm?" Rostov asked. + +Dolokhov paused. + +"Well, you see, I'll tell you the whole secret of dueling in two +words. If you are going to fight a duel, and you make a will and write +affectionate letters to your parents, and if you think you may be +killed, you are a fool and are lost for certain. But go with the +firm intention of killing your man as quickly and surely as +possible, and then all will be right, as our bear huntsman at Kostroma +used to tell me. 'Everyone fears a bear,' he says, 'but when you see +one your fear's all gone, and your only thought is not to let him +get away!' And that's how it is with me. A demain, mon cher."* + + +*Till tomorrow, my dear fellow. + + +Next day, at eight in the morning, Pierre and Nesvitski drove to the +Sokolniki forest and found Dolokhov, Denisov, and Rostov already +there. Pierre had the air of a man preoccupied with considerations +which had no connection with the matter in hand. His haggard face +was yellow. He had evidently not slept that night. He looked about +distractedly and screwed up his eyes as if dazzled by the sun. He +was entirely absorbed by two considerations: his wife's guilt, of +which after his sleepless night he had not the slightest doubt, and +the guiltlessness of Dolokhov, who had no reason to preserve the honor +of a man who was nothing to him.... "I should perhaps have done the +same thing in his place," thought Pierre. "It's even certain that I +should have done the same, then why this duel, this murder? Either I +shall kill him, or he will hit me in the head, or elbow, or knee. +Can't I go away from here, run away, bury myself somewhere?" passed +through his mind. But just at moments when such thoughts occurred to +him, he would ask in a particularly calm and absent-minded way, +which inspired the respect of the onlookers, "Will it be long? Are +things ready?" + +When all was ready, the sabers stuck in the snow to mark the +barriers, and the pistols loaded, Nesvitski went up to Pierre. + +"I should not be doing my duty, Count," he said in timid tones, "and +should not justify your confidence and the honor you have done me in +choosing me for your second, if at this grave, this very grave, moment +I did not tell you the whole truth. I think there is no sufficient +ground for this affair, or for blood to be shed over it.... You were +not right, not quite in the right, you were impetuous..." + +"Oh yes, it is horribly stupid," said Pierre. + +"Then allow me to express your regrets, and I am sure your +opponent will accept them," said Nesvitski (who like the others +concerned in the affair, and like everyone in similar cases, did not +yet believe that the affair had come to an actual duel). "You know, +Count, it is much more honorable to admit one's mistake than to let +matters become irreparable. There was no insult on either side. +Allow me to convey...." + +"No! What is there to talk about?" said Pierre. "It's all the +same.... Is everything ready?" he added. "Only tell me where to go and +where to shoot," he said with an unnaturally gentle smile. + +He took the pistol in his hand and began asking about the working of +the trigger, as he had not before held a pistol in his hand--a fact +that he did not to confess. + +"Oh yes, like that, I know, I only forgot," said he. + +"No apologies, none whatever," said Dolokhov to Denisov (who on +his side had been attempting a reconciliation), and he also went up to +the appointed place. + +The spot chosen for the duel was some eighty paces from the road, +where the sleighs had been left, in a small clearing in the pine +forest covered with melting snow, the frost having begun to break up +during the last few days. The antagonists stood forty paces apart at +the farther edge of the clearing. The seconds, measuring the paces, +left tracks in the deep wet snow between the place where they had been +standing and Nesvitski's and Dolokhov's sabers, which were stuck +intothe ground ten paces apart to mark the barrier. It was thawing and +misty; at forty paces' distance nothing could be seen. For three +minutes all had been ready, but they still delayed and all were +silent. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +"Well begin!" said Dolokhov. + +"All right," said Pierre, still smiling in the same way. A feeling +of dread was in the air. It was evident that the affair so lightly +begun could no longer be averted but was taking its course +independently of men's will. + +Denisov first went to the barrier and announced: "As the adve'sawies +have wefused a weconciliation, please pwoceed. Take your pistols, +and at the word thwee begin to advance. + +"O-ne! T-wo! Thwee!" he shouted angrily and stepped aside. + +The combatants advanced along the trodden tracks, nearer and +nearer to one another, beginning to see one another through the +mist. They had the right to fire when they liked as they approached +the barrier. Dolokhov walked slowly without raising his pistol, +looking intently with his bright, sparkling blue eyes into his +antagonist's face. His mouth wore its usual semblance of a smile. + +"So I can fire when I like!" said Pierre, and at the word "three," +he went quickly forward, missing the trodden path and stepping into +the deep snow. He held the pistol in his right hand at arm's length, +apparently afraid of shooting himself with it. His left hand he held +carefully back, because he wished to support his right hand with it +and knew he must not do so. Having advanced six paces and strayed +off the track into the snow, Pierre looked down at his feet, then +quickly glanced at Dolokhov and, bending his finger as he had been +shown, fired. Not at all expecting so loud a report, Pierre +shuddered at the sound and then, smiling at his own sensations, +stood still. The smoke, rendered denser by the mist, prevented him +from seeing anything for an instant, but there was no second report as +he had expected. He only heard Dolokhov's hurried steps, and his +figure came in view through the smoke. He was pressing one hand to his +left side, while the other clutched his drooping pistol. His face +was pale. Rostov ran toward him and said something. + +"No-o-o!" muttered Dolokhov through his teeth, "no, it's not +over." And after stumbling a few staggering steps right up to the +saber, he sank on the snow beside it. His left hand was bloody; he +wiped it on his coat and supported himself with it. His frowning +face was pallid and quivered. + +"Plea..." began Dolokhov, but could not at first pronounce the word. + +"Please," he uttered with an effort. + +Pierre, hardly restraining his sobs, began running toward Dolokhov +and was about to cross the space between the barriers, when Dolokhov +cried: + +"To your barrier!" and Pierre, grasping what was meant, stopped by +his saber. Only ten paces divided them. Dolokhov lowered his head to +the snow, greedily bit at it, again raised his head, adjusted himself, +drew in his legs and sat up, seeking a firm center of gravity. He +sucked and swallowed the cold snow, his lips quivered but +his eyes, still smiling, glittered with effort and exasperation as +he mustered his remaining strength. He raised his pistol and aimed. + +"Sideways! Cover yourself with your pistol!" ejaculated Nesvitski. + +"Cover yourself!" even Denisov cried to his adversary. + +Pierre, with a gentle smile of pity and remorse, his arms and legs +helplessly spread out, stood with his broad chest directly facing +Dolokhov looked sorrowfully at him. Denisov, Rostov, and Nesvitski +closed their eyes. At the same instant they heard a report and +Dolokhov's angry cry. + +"Missed!" shouted Dolokhov, and he lay helplessly, face downwards on +the snow. + +Pierre clutched his temples, and turning round went into the forest, +trampling through the deep snow, and muttering incoherent words: + +"Folly... folly! Death... lies..." he repeated, puckering his face. + +Nesvitski stopped him and took him home. + +Rostov and Denisov drove away with the wounded Dolokhov. + +The latter lay silent in the sleigh with closed eyes and did not +answer a word to the questions addressed to him. But on entering +Moscow he suddenly came to and, lifting his head with an effort, +took Rostov, who was sitting beside him, by the hand. Rostov was +struck by the totally altered and unexpectedly rapturous and tender +expression on Dolokhov's face. + +"Well? How do you feel?" he asked. + +"Bad! But it's not that, my friend-" said Dolokhov with a gasping +voice. "Where are we? In Moscow, I know. I don't matter, but I have +killed her, killed... She won't get over it! She won't survive...." + +"Who?" asked Rostov. + +"My mother! My mother, my angel, my adored angel mother," and +Dolokhov pressed Rostov's hand and burst into tears. + +When he had become a little quieter, he explained to Rostov that +he was living with his mother, who, if she saw him dying, would not +survive it. He implored Rostov to go on and prepare her. + +Rostov went on ahead to do what was asked, and to his great surprise +learned that Dolokhov the brawler, Dolokhov the bully, lived in Moscow +with an old mother and a hunchback sister, and was the most +affectionate of sons and brothers. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Pierre had of late rarely seen his wife alone. Both in Petersburg +and in Moscow their house was always full of visitors. The night after +the duel he did not go to his bedroom but, as he often did, remained +in his father's room, that huge room in which Count Bezukhov had died. + +He lay down on the sofa meaning to fall asleep and forget all that +had happened to him, but could not do so. Such a storm of feelings, +thoughts, and memories suddenly arose within him that he could not +fall asleep, nor even remain in one place, but had to jump up and pace +the room with rapid steps. Now he seemed to see her in the early +days of their marriage, with bare shoulders and a languid, +passionate look on her face, and then immediately he saw beside her +Dolokhov's handsome, insolent, hard, and mocking face as he had seen +it at the banquet, and then that same face pale, quivering, and +suffering, as it had been when he reeled and sank on the snow. + +"What has happened?" he asked himself. "I have killed her lover, +yes, killed my wife's lover. Yes, that was it! And why? How did I come +to do it?"--"Because you married her," answered an inner voice. + +"But in what was I to blame?" he asked. "In marrying her without +loving her; in deceiving yourself and her." And he vividly recalled +that moment after supper at Prince Vasili's, when he spoke those words +he had found so difficult to utter: "I love you." "It all comes from +that! Even then I felt it," he thought. "I felt then that it was not +so, that I had no right to do it. And so it turns out." + +He remembered his honeymoon and blushed at the recollection. +Particularly vivid, humiliating, and shameful was the recollection +of how one day soon after his marriage he came out of the bedroom into +his study a little before noon in his silk dressing gown and found his +head steward there, who, bowing respectfully, looked into his face and +at his dressing gown and smiled slightly, as if expressing +respectful understanding of his employer's happiness. + +"But how often I have felt proud of her, proud of her majestic +beauty and social tact," thought he; "been proud of my house, in +which she received all Petersburg, proud of her unapproachability and +beauty. So this is what I was proud of! I then thought that I did +not understand her. How often when considering her character I have +told myself that I was to blame for not understanding her, for not +understanding that constant composure and complacency and lack of +all interests or desires, and the whole secret lies in the terrible +truth that she is a depraved woman. Now I have spoken that terrible +word to myself all has become clear. + +"Anatole used to come to borrow money from her and used to kiss +her naked shoulders. She did not give him the money, but let herself +be kissed. Her father in jest tried to rouse her jealousy, and she +replied with a calm smile that she was not so stupid as to be jealous: +'Let him do what he pleases,' she used to say of me. One day I asked +her if she felt any symptoms of pregnancy. She laughed +contemptuously and said she was not a fool to want to have children, +and that she was not going to have any children by me." + +Then he recalled the coarseness and bluntness of her thoughts and +the vulgarity of the expressions that were natural to her, though +she had been brought up in the most aristocratic circles. + +"I'm not such a fool.... Just you try it on.... Allez-vous +promener,"* she used to say. Often seeing the success she had with +young and old men and women Pierre could not understand why he did not +love her. + + +*"You clear out of this." + + +"Yes, I never loved her," said he to himself; "I knew she was a +depraved woman," he repeated, "but dared not admit it to myself. And +now there's Dolokhov sitting in the snow with a forced smile and +perhaps dying, while meeting my remorse with some forced bravado!" + +Pierre was one of those people who, in spite of an appearance of +what is called weak character, do not seek a confidant in their +troubles. He digested his sufferings alone. + +"It is all, all her fault," he said to himself; "but what of that? +Why did I bind myself to her? Why did I say 'Je vous aime'* to her, +which was a lie, and worse than a lie? I am guilty and must +endure... what? A slur on my name? A misfortune for life? Oh, that's +nonsense," he thought. "The slur on my name and honor--that's all +apart from myself. + + +*I love you. + + +"Louis XVI was executed because they said he was dishonorable and +a criminal," came into Pierre's head, "and from their point of view +they were right, as were those too who canonized him and died a +martyr's death for his sake. Then Robespierre was beheaded for being a +despot. Who is right and who is wrong? No one! But if you are alive- +live: tomorrow you'll die as I might have died an hour ago. And is +it worth tormenting oneself, when one has only a moment of life in +comparison with eternity?" + +But at the moment when he imagined himself calmed by such +reflections, she suddenly came into his mind as she was at the moments +when he had most strongly expressed his insincere love for her, and he +felt the blood rush to his heart and had again to get up and move +about and break and tear whatever came to his hand. "Why did I tell +her that 'Je vous aime'?" he kept repeating to himself. And when he +had said it for the tenth time, Molibre's words: "Mais que diable +alloit-il faire dans cette galere?" occurred to him, and he began to +laugh at himself. + +In the night he called his valet and told him to pack up to go to +Petersburg. He could not imagine how he could speak to her now. He +resolved to go away next day and leave a letter informing her of his +intention to part from her forever. + +Next morning when the valet came into the room with his coffee, +Pierre was lying asleep on the ottoman with an open book in his hand. + +He woke up and looked round for a while with a startled +expression, unable to realize where he was. + +"The countess told me to inquire whether your excellency was at +home," said the valet. + +But before Pierre could decide what answer he would send, the +countess herself in a white satin dressing gown embroidered with +silver and with simply dressed hair (two immense plaits twice round +her lovely head like a coronet) entered the room, calm and majestic, +except that there was a wrathful wrinkle on her rather prominent +marble brow. With her imperturbable calm she did not begin to speak in +front of the valet. She knew of the duel and had come to speak about +it. She waited till the valet had set down the coffee things and +left the room. Pierre looked at her timidly over his spectacles, and +like a hare surrounded by hounds who lays back her ears and +continues to crouch motionless before her enemies, he tried to +continue reading. But feeling this to be senseless and impossible, +he again glanced timidly at her. She did not sit down but looked at +him with a contemptuous smile, waiting for the valet to go. + +"Well, what's this now? What have you been up to now, I should +like to know?" she asked sternly. + +"I? What have I...?" stammered Pierre. + +"So it seems you're a hero, eh? Come now, what was this duel +about? What is it meant to prove? What? I ask you." + +Pierre turned over heavily on the ottoman and opened his mouth, +but could not reply. + +"If you won't answer, I'll tell you..." Helene went on. "You believe +everything you're told. You were told..." Helene laughed, "that +Dolokhov was my lover," she said in French with her coarse plainness +of speech, uttering the word amant as casually as any other word, "and +you believed it! Well, what have you proved? What does this duel +prove? That you're a fool, que vous etes un sot, but everybody knew +that. What will be the result? That I shall be the laughingstock of +all Moscow, that everyone will say that you, drunk and not knowing +what you were about, challenged a man you are jealous of without +cause." Helene raised her voice and became more and more excited, "A +man who's a better man than you in every way..." + +"Hm... Hm...!" growled Pierre, frowning without looking at her, +and not moving a muscle. + +"And how could you believe he was my lover? Why? Because I like +his company? If you were cleverer and more agreeable, I should +prefer yours." + +"Don't speak to me... I beg you," muttered Pierre hoarsely. + +"Why shouldn't I speak? I can speak as I like, and I tell you +plainly that there are not many wives with husbands such as you who +would not have taken lovers (des amants), but I have not done so," +said she. + +Pierre wished to say something, looked at her with eyes whose +strange expression she did not understand, and lay down again. He +was suffering physically at that moment, there was a weight on his +chest and he could not breathe. He knew that he must do something to +put an end to this suffering, but what he wanted to do was too +terrible. + +"We had better separate," he muttered in a broken voice. + +"Separate? Very well, but only if you give me a fortune," said +Helene. "Separate! That's a thing to frighten me with!" + +Pierre leaped up from the sofa and rushed staggering toward her. + +"I'll kill you!" he shouted, and seizing the marble top of a table +with a strength he had never before felt, he made a step toward her +brandishing the slab. + +Helene's face became terrible, she shrieked and sprang aside. His +father's nature showed itself in Pierre. He felt the fascination and +delight of frenzy. He flung down the slab, broke it, and swooping down +on her with outstretched hands shouted, "Get out!" in such a +terrible voice that the whole house heard it with horror. God knows +what he would have done at that moment had Helene not fled from the +room. + + +A week later Pierre gave his wife full power to control all his +estates in Great Russia, which formed the larger part of his property, +and left for Petersburg alone. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Two months had elapsed since the news of the battle of Austerlitz +and the loss of Prince Andrew had reached Bald Hills, and in spite +of the letters sent through the embassy and all the searches made, his +body had not been found nor was he on the list of prisoners. What +was worst of all for his relations was the fact that there was still a +possibility of his having been picked up on the battlefield by the +people of the place and that he might now be lying, recovering or +dying, alone among strangers and unable to send news of himself. The +gazettes from which the old prince first heard of the defeat at +Austerlitz stated, as usual very briefly and vaguely, that after +brilliant engagements the Russians had had to retreat and had made +their withdrawal in perfect order. The old prince understood from this +official report that our army had been defeated. A week after the +gazette report of the battle of Austerlitz came a letter from +Kutuzov informing the prince of the fate that had befallen his son. + +"Your son," wrote Kutuzov, "fell before my eyes, a standard in his +hand and at the head of a regiment--he fell as a hero, worthy of his +father and his fatherland. To the great regret of myself and of the +whole army it is still uncertain whether he is alive or not. I comfort +myself and you with the hope that your son is alive, for otherwise +he would have been mentioned among the officers found on the field +of battle, a list of whom has been sent me under flag of truce." + +After receiving this news late in the evening, when he was alone +in his study, the old prince went for his walk as usual next +morning, but he was silent with his steward, the gardener, and the +architect, and though he looked very grim he said nothing to anyone. + +When Princess Mary went to him at the usual hour he was working at +his lathe and, as usual, did not look round at her. + +"Ah, Princess Mary!" he said suddenly in an unnatural voice, +throwing down his chisel. (The wheel continued to revolve by its own +impetus, and Princess Mary long remembered the dying creak of that +wheel, which merged in her memory with what followed.) + +She approached him, saw his face, and something gave way within her. +Her eyes grew dim. By the expression of her father's face, not sad, +not crushed, but angry and working unnaturally, she saw that hanging +over her and about to crush her was some terrible misfortune, the +worst in life, one she had not yet experienced, irreparable and +incomprehensible--the death of one she loved. + +"Father! Andrew!"--said the ungraceful, awkward princess with such +an indescribable charm of sorrow and self-forgetfulness that her +father could not bear her look but turned away with a sob. + +"Bad news! He's not among the prisoners nor among the killed! +Kutuzov writes..." and he screamed as piercingly as if he wished to +drive the princess away by that scream... "Killed!" + +The princess did not fall down or faint. She was already pale, but +on hearing these words her face changed and something brightened in +her beautiful, radiant eyes. It was as if joy--a supreme joy apart +from the joys and sorrows of this world--overflowed the great grief +within her. She forgot all fear of her father, went up to him, took +his hand, and drawing him down put her arm round his thin, scraggy +neck. + +"Father," she said, "do not turn away from me, let us weep together." + +"Scoundrels! Blackguards!" shrieked the old man, turning his face +away from her. "Destroying the army, destroying the men! And why? +Go, go and tell Lise." + +The princess sank helplessly into an armchair beside her father +and wept. She saw her brother now as he had been at the moment when he +took leave of her and of Lise, his look tender yet proud. She saw +him tender and amused as he was when he put on the little icon. "Did +he believe? Had he repented of his unbelief? Was he now there? There +in the realms of eternal peace and blessedness?" she thought. + +"Father, tell me how it happened," she asked through her tears. + +"Go! Go! Killed in battle, where the best of Russian men and +Russia's glory were led to destruction. Go, Princess Mary. Go and tell +Lise. I will follow." + +When Princess Mary returned from her father, the little princess sat +working and looked up with that curious expression of inner, happy +calm peculiar to pregnant women. It was evident that her eyes did +not see Princess Mary but were looking within... into herself... at +something joyful and mysterious taking place within her. + +"Mary," she said, moving away from the embroidery frame and lying +back, "give me your hand." She took her sister-in-law's hand and +held it below her waist. + +Her eyes were smiling expectantly, her downy lip rose and remained +lifted in childlike happiness. + +Princess Mary knelt down before her and hid her face in the folds of +her sister-in-law's dress. + +"There, there! Do you feel it? I feel so strange. And do you know, +Mary, I am going to love him very much," said Lise, looking with +bright and happy eyes at her sister-in-law. + +Princess Mary could not lift her head, she was weeping. + +"What is the matter, Mary?" + +"Nothing... only I feel sad... sad about Andrew," she said, wiping +away her tears on her sister-in-law's knee. + +Several times in the course of the morning Princess Mary began +trying to prepare her sister-in-law, and every time began to cry. +Unobservant as was the little princess, these tears, the cause of +which she did not understand, agitated her. She said nothing but +looked about uneasily as if in search of something. Before dinner +the old prince, of whom she was always afraid, came into her room with +a peculiarly restless and malign expression and went out again without +saying a word. She looked at Princess Mary, then sat thinking for a +while with that expression of attention to something within her that +is only seen in pregnant women, and suddenly began to cry. + +"Has anything come from Andrew?" she asked. + +"No, you know it's too soon for news. But my father is anxious and I +feel afraid." + +"So there's nothing?" + +"Nothing," answered Princess Mary, looking firmly with her radiant +eyes at her sister-in-law. + +She had determined not to tell her and persuaded her father to +hide the terrible news from her till after her confinement, which +was expected within a few days. Princess Mary and the old prince +each bore and hid their grief in their own way. The old prince would +not cherish any hope: he made up his mind that Prince Andrew had +been killed, and though he sent an official to Austria to seek for +traces of his son, he ordered a monument from Moscow which he intended +to erect in his own garden to his memory, and he told everybody that +his son had been killed. He tried not to change his former way of +life, but his strength failed him. He walked less, ate less, slept +less, and became weaker every day. Princess Mary hoped. She prayed for +her brother as living and was always awaiting news of his return. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +"Dearest," said the little princess after breakfast on the morning +of the nineteenth March, and her downy little lip rose from old habit, +but as sorrow was manifest in every smile, the sound of every word, +and even every footstep in that house since the terrible news had +come, so now the smile of the little princess--influenced by the +general mood though without knowing its cause--was such as to remind +one still more of the general sorrow. + +"Dearest, I'm afraid this morning's fruschtique*--as Foka the cook +calls it--has disagreed with me." + + +*Fruhstuck: breakfast. + + +"What is the matter with you, my darling? You look pale. Oh, you are +very pale!" said Princess Mary in alarm, running with her soft, +ponderous steps up to her sister-in-law. + +"Your excellency, should not Mary Bogdanovna be sent for?" said +one of the maids who was present. (Mary Bogdanovna was a midwife +from the neighboring town, who had been at Bald Hills for the last +fortnight.) + +"Oh yes," assented Princess Mary, "perhaps that's it. I'll go. +Courage, my angel." She kissed Lise and was about to leave the room. + +"Oh, no, no!" And besides the pallor and the physical suffering on +the little princess' face, an expression of childish fear of +inevitable pain showed itself. + +"No, it's only indigestion?... Say it's only indigestion, say so, +Mary! Say..." And the little princess began to cry capriciously like a +suffering child and to wring her little hands even with some +affectation. Princess Mary ran out of the room to fetch Mary +Bogdanovna. + +"Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! Oh!" she heard as she left the room. + +The midwife was already on her way to meet her, rubbing her small, +plump white hands with an air of calm importance. + +"Mary Bogdanovna, I think it's beginning!" said Princess Mary +looking at the midwife with wide-open eyes of alarm. + +"Well, the Lord be thanked, Princess," said Mary Bogdanovna, not +hastening her steps. "You young ladies should not know anything +about it." + +"But how is it the doctor from Moscow is not here yet?" said the +princess. (In accordance with Lise's and Prince Andrew's wishes they +had sent in good time to Moscow for a doctor and were expecting him at +any moment.) + +"No matter, Princess, don't be alarmed," said Mary Bogdanovna. +"We'll manage very well without a doctor." + +Five minutes later Princess Mary from her room heard something heavy +being carried by. She looked out. The men servants were carrying the +large leather sofa from Prince Andrew's study into the bedroom. On +their faces was a quiet and solemn look. + +Princess Mary sat alone in her room listening to the sounds in the +house, now and then opening her door when someone passed and +watching what was going on in the passage. Some women passing with +quiet steps in and out of the bedroom glanced at the princess and +turned away. She did not venture to ask any questions, and shut the +door again, now sitting down in her easy chair, now taking her +prayer book, now kneeling before the icon stand. To her surprise and +distress she found that her prayers did not calm her excitement. +Suddenly her door opened softly and her old nurse, Praskovya Savishna, +who hardly ever came to that room as the old prince had forbidden +it, appeared on the threshold with a shawl round her head. + +"I've come to sit with you a bit, Masha," said the nurse, "and +here I've brought the prince's wedding candles to light before his +saint, my angel," she said with a sigh. + +"Oh, nurse, I'm so glad!" + +"God is merciful, birdie." + +The nurse lit the gilt candles before the icons and sat down by +the door with her knitting. Princess Mary took a book and began +reading. Only when footsteps or voices were heard did they look at one +another, the princess anxious and inquiring, the nurse encouraging. +Everyone in the house was dominated by the same feeling that +Princess Mary experienced as she sat in her room. But owing to the +superstition that the fewer the people who know of it the less a woman +in travail suffers, everyone tried to pretend not to know; no one +spoke of it, but apart from the ordinary staid and respectful good +manners habitual in the prince's household, a common anxiety, a +softening of the heart, and a consciousness that something great and +mysterious was being accomplished at that moment made itself felt. + +There was no laughter in the maids' large hall. In the men servants' +hall all sat waiting, silently and alert. In the outlying serfs' +quarters torches and candles were burning and no one slept. The old +prince, stepping on his heels, paced up and down his study and sent +Tikhon to ask Mary Bogdanovna what news.--"Say only that 'the prince +told me to ask,' and come and tell me her answer." + +"Inform the prince that labor has begun," said Mary Bogdanovna, +giving the messenger a significant look. + +Tikhon went and told the prince. + +"Very good!" said the prince closing the door behind him, and Tikhon +did not hear the slightest sound from the study after that. + +After a while he re-entered it as if to snuff the candles, and, +seeing the prince was lying on the sofa, looked at him, noticed his +perturbed face, shook his head, and going up to him silently kissed +him on the shoulder and left the room without snuffing the candles +or saying why he had entered. The most solemn mystery in the world +continued its course. Evening passed, night came, and the feeling of +suspense and softening of heart in the presence of the unfathomable +did not lessen but increased. No one slept. + +It was one of those March nights when winter seems to wish to resume +its sway and scatters its last snows and storms with desperate fury. A +relay of horses had been sent up the highroad to meet the German +doctor from Moscow who was expected every moment, and men on horseback +with lanterns were sent to the crossroads to guide him over the +country road with its hollows and snow-covered pools of water. + +Princess Mary had long since put aside her book: she sat silent, her +luminous eyes fixed on her nurse's wrinkled face (every line of +which she knew so well), on the lock of gray hair that escaped from +under the kerchief, and the loose skin that hung under her chin. + +Nurse Savishna, knitting in hand, was telling in low tones, scarcely +hearing or understanding her own words, what she had told hundreds +of times before: how the late princess had given birth to Princess +Mary in Kishenev with only a Moldavian peasant woman to help instead +of a midwife. + +"God is merciful, doctors are never needed," she said. + +Suddenly a gust of wind beat violently against the casement of the +window, from which the double frame had been removed (by order of +the prince, one window frame was removed in each room as soon as the +larks returned), and, forcing open a loosely closed latch, set the +damask curtain flapping and blew out the candle with its chill, +snowy draft. Princess Mary shuddered; her nurse, putting down the +stocking she was knitting, went to the window and leaning out tried to +catch the open casement. The cold wind flapped the ends of her +kerchief and her loose locks of gray hair. + +"Princess, my dear, there's someone driving up the avenue!" she +said, holding the casement and not closing it. "With lanterns. Most +likely the doctor." + +"Oh, my God! thank God!" said Princess Mary. "I must go and meet +him, he does not know Russian." + +Princess Mary threw a shawl over her head and ran to meet the +newcomer. As she was crossing the anteroom she saw through the +window a carriage with lanterns, standing at the entrance. She went +out on the stairs. On a banister post stood a tallow candle which +guttered in the draft. On the landing below, Philip, the footman, +stood looking scared and holding another candle. Still lower, beyond +the turn of the staircase, one could hear the footstep of someone in +thick felt boots, and a voice that seemed familiar to Princess Mary +was saying something. + +"Thank God!" said the voice. "And Father?" + +"Gone to bed," replied the voice of Demyan the house steward, who +was downstairs. + +Then the voice said something more, Demyan replied, and the steps in +the felt boots approached the unseen bend of the staircase more +rapidly. + +"It's Andrew!" thought Princess Mary. "No it can't be, that would be +too extraordinary," and at the very moment she thought this, the +face and figure of Prince Andrew, in a fur cloak the deep collar of +which covered with snow, appeared on the landing where the footman +stood with the candle. Yes, it was he, pale, thin, with a changed +and strangely softened but agitated expression on his face. He came up +the stairs and embraced his sister. + +"You did not get my letter?" he asked, and not waiting for a +reply--which he would not have received, for the princess was unable +to speak--he turned back, rapidly mounted the stairs again with the +doctor who had entered the hall after him (they had met at the last +post station), and again embraced his sister. + +"What a strange fate, Masha darling!" And having taken off his cloak +and felt boots, he went to the little princess' apartment. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The little princess lay supported by pillows, with a white cap on +her head (the pains had just left her). Strands of her black hair +lay round her inflamed and perspiring cheeks, her charming rosy +mouth with its downy lip was open and she was smiling joyfully. Prince +Andrew entered and paused facing her at the foot of the sofa on +which she was lying. Her glittering eyes, filled with childlike fear +and excitement, rested on him without changing their expression. "I +love you all and have done no harm to anyone; why must I suffer so? +Help me!" her look seemed to say. She saw her husband, but did not +realize the significance of his appearance before her now. Prince +Andrew went round the sofa and kissed her forehead. + +"My darling!" he said--a word he had never used to her before. +"God is merciful...." + +She looked at him inquiringly and with childlike reproach. + +"I expected help from you and I get none, none from you either!" +said her eyes. She was not surprised at his having come; she did not +realize that he had come. His coming had nothing to do with her +sufferings or with their relief. The pangs began again and Mary +Bogdanovna advised Prince Andrew to leave the room. + +The doctor entered. Prince Andrew went out and, meeting Princess +Mary, again joined her. They began talking in whispers, but their talk +broke off at every moment. They waited and listened. + +"Go, dear," said Princess Mary. + +Prince Andrew went again to his wife and sat waiting in the room +next to hers. A woman came from the bedroom with a frightened face and +became confused when she saw Prince Andrew. He covered his face with +his hands and remained so for some minutes. Piteous, helpless, +animal moans came through the door. Prince Andrew got up, went to +the door, and tried to open it. Someone was holding it shut. + +"You can't come in! You can't!" said a terrified voice from within. + +He began pacing the room. The screaming ceased, and a few more +seconds went by. Then suddenly a terrible shriek--it could not be +hers, she could not scream like that--came from the bedroom. Prince +Andrew ran to the door; the scream ceased and he heard the wail of +an infant. + +"What have they taken a baby in there for?" thought Prince Andrew in +the first second. "A baby? What baby...? Why is there a baby there? Or +is the baby born?" + +Then suddenly he realized the joyful significance of that wail; +tears choked him, and leaning his elbows on the window sill be began +to cry, sobbing like a child. The door opened. The doctor with his +shirt sleeves tucked up, without a coat, pale and with a trembling +jaw, came out of the room. Prince Andrew turned to him, but the doctor +gave him a bewildered look and passed by without a word. A woman +rushed out and seeing Prince Andrew stopped, hesitating on the +threshold. He went into his wife's room. She was lying dead, in the +same position he had seen her in five minutes before and, despite +the fixed eyes and the pallor of the cheeks, the same expression was +on her charming childlike face with its upper lip covered with tiny +black hair. + +"I love you all, and have done no harm to anyone; and what have +you done to me?"--said her charming, pathetic, dead face. + +In a corner of the room something red and tiny gave a grunt and +squealed in Mary Bogdanovna's trembling white hands. + + +Two hours later Prince Andrew, stepping softly, went into his +father's room. The old man already knew everything. He was standing +close to the door and as soon as it opened his rough old arms closed +like a vise round his son's neck, and without a word he began to sob +like a child. + + +Three days later the little princess was buried, and Prince Andrew +went up the steps to where the coffin stood, to give her the +farewell kiss. And there in the coffin was the same face, though +with closed eyes. "Ah, what have you done to me?" it still seemed to +say, and Prince Andrew felt that something gave way in his soul and +that he was guilty of a sin he could neither remedy nor forget. He +could not weep. The old man too came up and kissed the waxen little +hands that lay quietly crossed one on the other on her breast, and +to him, too, her face seemed to say: "Ah, what have you done to me, +and why?" And at the sight the old man turned angrily away. + + +Another five days passed, and then the young Prince Nicholas +Andreevich was baptized. The wet nurse supported the coverlet with her +while the priest with a goose feather anointed the boy's little red +and wrinkled soles and palms. + +His grandfather, who was his godfather, trembling and afraid of +dropping him, carried the infant round the battered tin font and +handed him over to the godmother, Princess Mary. Prince Andrew sat +in another room, faint with fear lest the baby should be drowned in +the font, and awaited the termination of the ceremony. He looked up +joyfully at the baby when the nurse brought it to him and nodded +approval when she told him that the wax with the baby's hair had not +sunk in the font but had floated. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Rostov's share in Dolokhov's duel with Bezukhov was hushed up by the +efforts of the old count, and instead of being degraded to the ranks +as he expected he was appointed an adjutant to the governor general of +Moscow. As a result he could not go to the country with the rest of +the family, but was kept all summer in Moscow by his new duties. +Dolokhov recovered, and Rostov became very friendly with him during +his convalescence. Dolokhov lay ill at his mother's who loved him +passionately and tenderly, and old Mary Ivanovna, who had grown fond +of Rostov for his friendship to her Fedya, often talked to him about +her son. + +"Yes, Count," she would say, "he is too noble and pure-souled for +our present, depraved world. No one now loves virtue; it seems like +a reproach to everyone. Now tell me, Count, was it right, was it +honorable, of Bezukhov? And Fedya, with his noble spirit, loved him +and even now never says a word against him. Those pranks in Petersburg +when they played some tricks on a policeman, didn't they do it +together? And there! Bezukhov got off scotfree, while Fedya had to +bear the whole burden on his shoulders. Fancy what he had to go +through! It's true he has been reinstated, but how could they fail +to do that? I think there were not many such gallant sons of the +fatherland out there as he. And now--this duel! Have these people no +feeling, or honor? Knowing him to be an only son, to challenge him and +shoot so straight! It's well God had mercy on us. And what was it for? +Who doesn't have intrigues nowadays? Why, if he was so jealous, as I +see things he should have shown it sooner, but he lets it go on for +months. And then to call him out, reckoning on Fedya not fighting +because he owed him money! What baseness! What meanness! I know you +understand Fedya, my dear count; that, believe me, is why I am so fond +of you. Few people do understand him. He is such a lofty, heavenly +soul!" + +Dolokhov himself during his convalescence spoke to Rostov in a way +no one would have expected of him. + +"I know people consider me a bad man!" he said. "Let them! I don't +care a straw about anyone but those I love; but those I love, I love +so that I would give my life for them, and the others I'd throttle +if they stood in my way. I have an adored, a priceless mother, and two +or three friends--you among them--and as for the rest I only care +about them in so far as they are harmful or useful. And most of them +are harmful, especially the women. Yes, dear boy," he continued, "I +have met loving, noble, high-minded men, but I have not yet met any +women--countesses or cooks--who were not venal. I have not yet met +that divine purity and devotion I look for in women. If I found such a +one I'd give my life for her! But those!..." and he made a gesture of +contempt. "And believe me, if I still value my life it is only because +I still hope to meet such a divine creature, who will regenerate, +purify, and elevate me. But you don't understand it." + +"Oh, yes, I quite understand," answered Rostov, who was under his +new friend's influence. + +In the autumn the Rostovs returned to Moscow. Early in the winter +Denisov also came back and stayed with them. The first half of the +winter of 1806, which Nicholas Rostov spent in Moscow, was one of +the happiest, merriest times for him and the whole family. Nicholas +brought many young men to his parents' house. Vera was a handsome girl +of twenty; Sonya a girl of sixteen with all the charm of an opening +flower; Natasha, half grown up and half child, was now childishly +amusing, now girlishly enchanting. + +At that time in the Rostovs' house there prevailed an amorous +atmosphere characteristic of homes where there are very young and very +charming girls. Every young man who came to the house--seeing those +impressionable, smiling young faces (smiling probably at their own +happiness), feeling the eager bustle around him, and hearing the +fitful bursts of song and music and the inconsequent but friendly +prattle of young girls ready for anything and full of hope- +experienced the same feeling; sharing with the young folk of the +Rostovs' household a readiness to fall in love and an expectation of +happiness. + +Among the young men introduced by Rostov one of the first was +Dolokhov, whom everyone in the house liked except Natasha. She +almost quarreled with her brother about him. She insisted that he +was a bad man, and that in the duel with Bezukhov, Pierre was right +and Dolokhov wrong, and further that he was disagreeable and +unnatural. + +"There's nothing for me to understand," cried out with resolute +self-will, "he is wicked and heartless. There now, I like your Denisov +though he is a rake and all that, still I like him; so you see I do +understand. I don't know how to put it... with this one everything +is calculated, and I don't like that. But Denisov..." + +"Oh, Denisov is quite different," replied Nicholas, implying that +even Denisov was nothing compared to Dolokhov--"you must understand +what a soul there is in Dolokhov, you should see him with his +mother. What a heart!" + +"Well, I don't know about that, but I am uncomfortable with him. And +do you know he has fallen in love with Sonya?" + +"What nonsense..." + +"I'm certain of it; you'll see." + +Natasha's prediction proved true. Dolokhov, who did not usually care +for the society of ladies, began to come often to the house, and the +question for whose sake he came (though no one spoke of it) was soon +settled. He came because of Sonya. And Sonya, though she would never +have dared to say so, knew it and blushed scarlet every time +Dolokhov appeared. + +Dolokhov often dined at the Rostovs', never missed a performance +at which they were present, and went to Iogel's balls for young people +which the Rostovs always attended. He was pointedly attentive to Sonya +and looked at her in such a way that not only could she not bear his +glances without coloring, but even the old countess and Natasha +blushed when they saw his looks. + +It was evident that this strange, strong man was under the +irresistible influence of the dark, graceful girl who loved another. + +Rostov noticed something new in Dolokhov's relations with Sonya, but +he did not explain to himself what these new relations were. +"They're always in love with someone," he thought of Sonya and +Natasha. But he was not as much at ease with Sonya and Dolokhov as +before and was less frequently at home. + +In the autumn of 1806 everybody had again begun talking of the war +with Napoleon with even greater warmth than the year before. Orders +were given to raise recruits, ten men in every thousand for the +regular army, and besides this, nine men in every thousand for the +militia. Everywhere Bonaparte was anathematized and in Moscow +nothing but the coming war was talked of. For the Rostov family the +whole interest of these preparations for war lay in the fact that +Nicholas would not hear of remaining in Moscow, and only awaited the +termination of Denisov's furlough after Christmas to return with him +to their regiment. His approaching departure did not prevent his +amusing himself, but rather gave zest to his pleasures. He spent the +greater part of his time away from home, at dinners, parties, and +balls. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +On the third day after Christmas Nicholas dined at home, a thing +he had rarely done of late. It was a grand farewell dinner, as he +and Denisov were leaving to join their regiment after Epiphany. +About twenty people were present, including Dolokhov and Denisov. + +Never had love been so much in the air, and never had the amorous +atmosphere made itself so strongly felt in the Rostovs' house as at +this holiday time. "Seize the moments of happiness, love and be loved! +That is the only reality in the world, all else is folly. It is the +one thing we are interested in here," said the spirit of the place. + +Nicholas, having as usual exhausted two pairs of horses, without +visiting all the places he meant to go to and where he had been +invited, returned home just before dinner. As soon as he entered he +noticed and felt the tension of the amorous air in the house, and also +noticed a curious embarrassment among some of those present. Sonya, +Dolokhov, and the old countess were especially disturbed, and to a +lesser degree Natasha. Nicholas understood that something must have +happened between Sonya and Dolokhov before dinner, and with the kindly +sensitiveness natural to him was very gentle and wary with them both +at dinner. On that same evening there was to be one of the balls +that Iogel (the dancing master) gave for his pupils durings the +holidays. + +"Nicholas, will you come to Iogel's? Please do!" said Natasha. "He +asked you, and Vasili Dmitrich* is also going." + + +*Denisov. + + +"Where would I not go at the countess' command!" said Denisov, who +at the Rostovs' had jocularly assumed the role of Natasha's knight. +"I'm even weady to dance the pas de chale." + +"If I have time," answered Nicholas. "But I promised the +Arkharovs; they have a party." + +"And you?" he asked Dolokhov, but as soon as he had asked the +question he noticed that it should not have been put. + +"Perhaps," coldly and angrily replied Dolokhov, glancing at Sonya, +and, scowling, he gave Nicholas just such a look as he had given +Pierre at the Club dinner. + +"There is something up," thought Nicholas, and he was further +confirmed in this conclusion by the fact that Dolokhov left +immediately after dinner. He called Natasha and asked her what was the +matter. + +"And I was looking for you," said Natasha running out to him. "I +told you, but you would not believe it," she said triumphantly. "He +has proposed to Sonya!" + +Little as Nicholas had occupied himself with Sonya of late, +something seemed to give way within him at this news. Dolokhov was a +suitable and in some respects a brilliant match for the dowerless, +orphan girl. From the point of view of the old countess and of society +it was out of the question for her to refuse him. And therefore +Nicholas' first feeling on hearing the news was one of anger with +Sonya.... He tried to say, "That's capital; of course she'll forget +her childish promises and accept the offer," but before he had time to +say it Natasha began again. + +"And fancy! she refused him quite definitely!" adding, after a +pause, "she told him she loved another." + +"Yes, my Sonya could not have done otherwise!" thought Nicholas. + +"Much as Mamma pressed her, she refused, and I know she won't change +once she has said..." + +"And Mamma pressed her!" said Nicholas reproachfully. + +"Yes," said Natasha. "Do you know, Nicholas--don't be angry--but I +know you will not marry her. I know, heaven knows how, but I know +for certain that you won't marry her." + +"Now don't know that at all!" said Nicholas. "But I must talk to +her. What a darling Sonya is!" he added with a smile. + +"Ah, she is indeed a darling! I'll send her to you." + +And Natasha kissed her brother and ran away. + +A minute later Sonya came in with a frightened, guilty, and scared +look. Nicholas went up to her and kissed her hand. This was the +first time since his return that they had talked alone and about their +love. + +"Sophie," he began, timidly at first and then more and more +boldly, "if you wish to refuse one who is not only a brilliant and +advantageous match but a splendid, noble fellow... he is my friend..." + +Sonya interrupted him. + +"I have already refused," she said hurriedly. + +"If you are refusing for my sake, I am afraid that I..." + +Sonya again interrupted. She gave him an imploring, frightened look. + +"Nicholas, don't tell me that!" she said. + +"No, but I must. It may be arrogant of me, but still it is best to +say it. If you refuse him on my account, I must tell you the whole +truth. I love you, and I think I love you more than anyone else...." + +"That is enough for me," said Sonya, blushing. + +"No, but I have been in love a thousand times and shall fall in love +again, though for no one have I such a feeling of friendship, +confidence, and love as I have for you. Then I am young. Mamma does +not wish it. In a word, I make no promise. And I beg you to consider +Dolokhov's offer," he said, articulating his friend's name with +difficulty. + +"Don't say that to me! I want nothing. I love you as a brother and +always shall, and I want nothing more." + +"You are an angel: I am not worthy of you, but I am afraid of +misleading you." + +And Nicholas again kissed her hand. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Iogel's were the most enjoyable balls in Moscow. So said the mothers +as they watched their young people executing their newly learned +steps, and so said the youths and maidens themselves as they danced +till they were ready to drop, and so said the grown-up young men and +women who came to these balls with an air of condescension and found +them most enjoyable. That year two marriages had come of these +balls. The two pretty young Princesses Gorchakov met suitors there and +were married and so further increased the fame of these dances. What +distinguished them from others was the absence of host or hostess +and the presence of the good-natured Iogel, flying about like a +feather and bowing according to the rules of his art, as he +collected the tickets from all his visitors. There was the fact that +only those came who wished to dance and amuse themselves as girls of +thirteen and fourteen do who are wearing long dresses for the first +time. With scarcely any exceptions they all were, or seemed to be, +pretty--so rapturous were their smiles and so sparkling their eyes. +Sometimes the best of the pupils, of whom Natasha, who was +exceptionally graceful, was first, even danced the pas de chale, but +at this last ball only the ecossaise, the anglaise, and the mazurka, +which was just coming into fashion, were danced. Iogel had taken a +ballroom in Bezukhov's house, and the ball, as everyone said, was a +great success. There were many pretty girls and the Rostov girls +were among the prettiest. They were both particularly happy and gay. +That evening, proud of Dolokhov's proposal, her refusal, and her +explanation with Nicholas, Sonya twirled about before she left home so +that the maid could hardly get her hair plaited, and she was +transparently radiant with impulsive joy. + +Natasha no less proud of her first long dress and of being at a real +ball was even happier. They were both dressed in white muslin with +pink ribbons. + +Natasha fell in love the very moment she entered the ballroom. She +was not in love with anyone in particular, but with everyone. Whatever +person she happened to look at she was in love with for that moment. + +"Oh, how delightful it is!" she kept saying, running up to Sonya. + +Nicholas and Denisov were walking up and down, looking with kindly +patronage at the dancers. + +"How sweet she is--she will be a weal beauty!" said Denisov. + +"Who?" + +"Countess Natasha," answered Denisov. + +"And how she dances! What gwace!" he said again after a pause. + +"Who are you talking about?" + +"About your sister," ejaculated Denisov testily. + +Rostov smiled. + +"My dear count, you were one of my best pupils--you must dance," +said little Iogel coming up to Nicholas. "Look how many charming young +ladies-" He turned with the same request to Denisov who was also a +former pupil of his. + +"No, my dear fellow, I'll be a wallflower," said Denisov. "Don't you +wecollect what bad use I made of your lessons?" + +"Oh no!" said Iogel, hastening to reassure him. "You were only +inattentive, but you had talent--oh yes, you had talent!" + + The band struck up the newly introduced mazurka. Nicholas could not +refuse Iogel and asked Sonya to dance. Denisov sat down by the old +ladies and, leaning on his saber and beating time with his foot, +told them something funny and kept them amused, while he watched the +young people dancing, Iogel with Natasha, his pride and his best +pupil, were the first couple. Noiselessly, skillfully stepping with +his little feet in low shoes, Iogel flew first across the hall with +Natasha, who, though shy, went on carefully executing her steps. +Denisov did not take his eyes off her and beat time with his saber +in a way that clearly indicated that if he was not dancing it was +because he would not and not because he could not. In the middle of +a figure he beckoned to Rostov who was passing: + +"This is not at all the thing," he said. "What sort of Polish +mazuwka is this? But she does dance splendidly." + +Knowing that Denisov had a reputation even in Poland for the +masterly way in which he danced the mazurka, Nicholas ran up to +Natasha: + +"Go and choose Denisov. He is a real dancer, a wonder!" he said. + +When it came to Natasha's turn to choose a partner, she rose and, +tripping rapidly across in her little shoes trimmed with bows, ran +timidly to the corner where Denisov sat. She saw that everybody was +looking at her and waiting. Nicholas saw that Denisov was refusing +though he smiled delightedly. He ran up to them. + +"Please, Vasili Dmitrich," Natasha was saying, "do come!" + +"Oh no, let me off, Countess," Denisov replied. + +"Now then, Vaska," said Nicholas. + +"They coax me as if I were Vaska the cat!" said Denisov jokingly. + +"I'll sing for you a whole evening," said Natasha. + +"Oh, the faiwy! She can do anything with me!" said Denisov, and he +unhooked his saber. He came out from behind the chairs, clasped his +partner's hand firmly, threw back his head, and advanced his foot, +waiting for the beat. Only on horse back and in the mazurka was +Denisov's short stature not noticeable and he looked the fine fellow +he felt himself to be. At the right beat of the music he looked +sideways at his partner with a merry and triumphant air, suddenly +stamped with one foot, bounded from the floor like a ball, and flew +round the room taking his partner with him. He glided silently on +one foot half across the room, and seeming not to notice the chairs +was dashing straight at them, when suddenly, clinking his spurs and +spreading out his legs, he stopped short on his heels, stood so a +second, stamped on the spot clanking his spurs, whirled rapidly round, +and, striking his left heel against his right, flew round again in a +circle. Natasha guessed what he meant to do, and abandoning herself to +him followed his lead hardly knowing how. First he spun her round, +holding her now with his left, now with his right hand, then falling +on one knee he twirled her round him, and again jumping up, dashed +so impetuously forward that it seemed as if he would rush through +the whole suite of rooms without drawing breath, and then he +suddenly stopped and performed some new and unexpected steps. When +at last, smartly whirling his partner round in front of her chair, +he drew up with a click of his spurs and bowed to her, Natasha did not +even make him a curtsy. She fixed her eyes on him in amazement, +smiling as if she did not recognize him. + +"What does this mean?" she brought out. + +Although Iogel did not acknowledge this to be the real mazurka, +everyone was delighted with Denisov's skill, he was asked again and +again as a partner, and the old men began smilingly to talk about +Poland and the good old days. Denisov, flushed after the mazurka and +mopping himself with his handkerchief, sat down by Natasha and did not +leave her for the rest of the evening. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +For two days after that Rostov did not see Dolokhov at his own or at +Dolokhov's home: on the third day he received a note from him: + + +As I do not intend to be at your house again for reasons you know +of, and am going to rejoin my regiment, I am giving a farewell +supper tonight to my friends--come to the English Hotel. + + +About ten o'clock Rostov went to the English Hotel straight from the +theater, where he had been with his family and Denisov. He was at once +shown to the best room, which Dolokhov had taken for that evening. +Some twenty men were gathered round a table at which Dolokhov sat +between two candles. On the table was a pile of gold and paper +money, and he was keeping the bank. Rostov had not seen him since +his proposal and Sonya's refusal and felt uncomfortable at the thought +of how they would meet. + +Dolokhov's clear, cold glance met Rostov as soon as he entered the +door, as though he had long expected him. + +"It's a long time since we met," he said. "Thanks for coming. I'll +just finish dealing, and then Ilyushka will come with his chorus." + +"I called once or twice at your house," said Rostov, reddening. + +Dolokhov made no reply. + +"You may punt," he said. + +Rostov recalled at that moment a strange conversation he had once +had with Dolokhov. "None but fools trust to luck in play," Dolokhov +had then said. + +"Or are you afraid to play with me?" Dolokhov now asked as if +guessing Rostov's thought. + +Beneath his smile Rostov saw in him the mood he had shown at the +Club dinner and at other times, when as if tired of everyday life he +had felt a need to escape from it by some strange, and usually +cruel, action. + +Rostov felt ill at ease. He tried, but failed, to find some joke +with which to reply to Dolokhov's words. But before he had thought +of anything, Dolokhov, looking straight in his face, said slowly and +deliberately so that everyone could hear: + +"Do you remember we had a talk about cards... 'He's a fool who +trusts to luck, one should make certain,' and I want to try." + +"To try his luck or the certainty?" Rostov asked himself. + +"Well, you'd better not play," Dolokhov added, and springing a new +pack of cards said: "Bank, gentlemen!" + +Moving the money forward he prepared to deal. Rostov sat down by his +side and at first did not play. Dolokhov kept glancing at him. + +"Why don't you play?" he asked. + +And strange to say Nicholas felt that he could not help taking up +a card, putting a small stake on it, and beginning to play. + +"I have no money with me," he said. + +"I'll trust you." + +Rostov staked five rubles on a card and lost, staked again, and +again lost. Dolokhov "killed," that is, beat, ten cards of Rostov's +running. + +"Gentlemen," said Dolokhov after he had dealt for some time. "Please +place your money on the cards or I may get muddled in the reckoning." + +One of the players said he hoped he might be trusted. + +"Yes, you might, but I am afraid of getting the accounts mixed. So I +ask you to put the money on your cards," replied Dolokhov. "Don't +stint yourself, we'll settle afterwards," he added, turning to Rostov. + +The game continued; a waiter kept handing round champagne. + +All Rostov's cards were beaten and he had eight hundred rubles +scored up against him. He wrote "800 rubles" on a card, but while +the waiter filled his glass he changed his mind and altered it to +his usual stake of twenty rubles. + +"Leave it," said Dolokhov, though he did not seem to be even looking +at Rostov, "you'll win it back all the sooner. I lose to the others +but win from you. Or are you afraid of me?" he asked again. + +Rostov submitted. He let the eight hundred remain and laid down a +seven of hearts with a torn corner, which he had picked up from the +floor. He well remembered that seven afterwards. He laid down the +seven of hearts, on which with a broken bit of chalk he had written +"800 rubles" in clear upright figures; he emptied the glass of warm +champagne that was handed him, smiled at Dolokhov's words, and with +a sinking heart, waiting for a seven to turn up, gazed at Dolokhov's +hands which held the pack. Much depended on Rostov's winning or losing +on that seven of hearts. On the previous Sunday the old count had +given his son two thousand rubles, and though he always disliked +speaking of money difficulties had told Nicholas that this was all +he could let him have till May, and asked him to be more economical +this time. Nicholas had replied that it would be more than enough +for him and that he gave his word of honor not to take anything more +till the spring. Now only twelve hundred rubles was left of that +money, so that this seven of hearts meant for him not only the loss of +sixteen hundred rubles, but the necessity of going back on his word. +With a sinking heart he watched Dolokhov's hands and thought, "Now +then, make haste and let me have this card and I'll take my cap and +drive home to supper with Denisov, Natasha, and Sonya, and will +certainly never touch a card again." At that moment his home life, +jokes with Petya, talks with Sonya, duets with Natasha, piquet with +his father, and even his comfortable bed in the house on the +Povarskaya rose before him with such vividness, clearness, and charm +that it seemed as if it were all a lost and unappreciated bliss, +long past. He could not conceive that a stupid chance, letting the +seven be dealt to the right rather than to the left, might deprive him +of all this happiness, newly appreciated and newly illumined, and +plunge him into the depths of unknown and undefined misery. That could +not be, yet he awaited with a sinking heart the movement of Dolokhov's +hands. Those broad, reddish hands, with hairy wrists visible from +under the shirt cuffs, laid down the pack and took up a glass and a +pipe that were handed him. + +"So you are not afraid to play with me?" repeated Dolokhov, and as +if about to tell a good story he put down the cards, leaned back in +his chair, and began deliberately with a smile: + +"Yes, gentlemen, I've been told there's a rumor going about Moscow +that I'm a sharper, so I advise you to be careful." + +"Come now, deal!" exclaimed Rostov. + +"Oh, those Moscow gossips!" said Dolokhov, and he took up the +cards with a smile. + +"Aah!" Rostov almost screamed lifting both hands to his head. The +seven he needed was lying uppermost, the first card in the pack. He +had lost more than he could pay. + +"Still, don't ruin yourself!" said Dolokhov with a side glance at +Rostov as he continued to deal. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +An hour and a half later most of the players were but little +interested in their own play. + +The whole interest was concentrated on Rostov. Instead of sixteen +hundred rubles he had a long column of figures scored against him, +which he had reckoned up to ten thousand, but that now, as he +vaguely supposed, must have risen to fifteen thousand. In reality it +already exceeded twenty thousand rubles. Dolokhov was no longer +listening to stories or telling them, but followed every movement of +Rostov's hands and occasionally ran his eyes over the score against +him. He had decided to play until that score reached forty-three +thousand. He had fixed on that number because forty-three was the +sum of his and Sonya's joint ages. Rostov, leaning his head on both +hands, sat at the table which was scrawled over with figures, wet with +spilled wine, and littered with cards. One tormenting impression did +not leave him: that those broad-boned reddish hands with hairy +wrists visible from under the shirt sleeves, those hands which he +loved and hated, held him in their power. + +"Six hundred rubles, ace, a corner, a nine... winning it back's +impossible... Oh, how pleasant it was at home!... The knave, double or +quits... it can't be!... And why is he doing this to me?" Rostov +pondered. Sometimes he staked a large sum, but Dolokhov refused to +accept it and fixed the stake himself. Nicholas submitted to him, +and at one moment prayed to God as he had done on the battlefield at +the bridge over the Enns, and then guessed that the card that came +first to hand from the crumpled heap under the table would save him, +now counted the cords on his coat and took a card with that number and +tried staking the total of his losses on it, then he looked round +for aid from the other players, or peered at the now cold face of +Dolokhov and tried to read what was passing in his mind. + +"He knows of course what this loss means to me. He can't want my +ruin. Wasn't he my friend? Wasn't I fond of him? But it's not his +fault. What's he to do if he has such luck?... And it's not my fault +either," he thought to himself, "I have done nothing wrong. Have I +killed anyone, or insulted or wished harm to anyone? Why such a +terrible misfortune? And when did it begin? Such a little while ago +I came to this table with the thought of winning a hundred rubles to +buy that casket for Mamma's name day and then going home. I was so +happy, so free, so lighthearted! And I did not realize how happy I +was! When did that end and when did this new, terrible state of things +begin? What marked the change? I sat all the time in this same place +at this table, chose and placed cards, and watched those broad-boned +agile hands in the same way. When did it happen and what has happened? +I am well and strong and still the same and in the same place. No, +it can't be! Surely it will all end in nothing!" + +He was flushed and bathed in perspiration, though the room was not +hot. His face was terrible and piteous to see, especially from its +helpless efforts to seem calm. + +The score against him reached the fateful sum of forty-three +thousand. Rostov had just prepared a card, by bending the corner of +which he meant to double the three thousand just put down to his +score, when Dolokhov, slamming down the pack of cards, put it aside +and began rapidly adding up the total of Rostov's debt, breaking the +chalk as he marked the figures in his clear, bold hand. + +"Supper, it's time for supper! And here are the gypsies!" + +Some swarthy men and women were really entering from the cold +outside and saying something in their gypsy accents. Nicholas +understood that it was all over; but he said in an indifferent tone: + +"Well, won't you go on? I had a splendid card all ready," as if it +were the fun of the game which interested him most. + +"It's all up! I'm lost!" thought he. "Now a bullet through my brain- +that's all that's left me!" And at the same time he said in a +cheerful voice: + +"Come now, just this one more little card!" + +"All right!" said Dolokhov, having finished the addition. "All +right! Twenty-one rubles," he said, pointing to the figure +twenty-one by which the total exceeded the round sum of forty-three +thousand; and taking up a pack he prepared to deal. Rostov +submissively unbent the corner of his card and, instead of the six +thousand he had intended, carefully wrote twenty-one. + +"It's all the same to me," he said. "I only want to see whether +you will let me win this ten, or beat it." + +Dolokhov began to deal seriously. Oh, how Rostov detested at that +moment those hands with their short reddish fingers and hairy +wrists, which held him in their power.... The ten fell to him. + +"You owe forty-three thousand, Count," said Dolokhov, and stretching +himself he rose from the table. "One does get tired sitting so +long," he added. + +"Yes, I'm tired too," said Rostov. + +Dolokhov cut him short, as if to remind him that it was not for +him to jest. + +"When am I to receive the money, Count?" + +Rostov, flushing, drew Dolokhov into the next room. + +"I cannot pay it all immediately. Will you take an I.O.U.?" he said. + +"I say, Rostov," said Dolokhov clearly, smiling and looking Nicholas +straight in the eyes, "you know the saying, 'Lucky in love, unlucky at +cards.' Your cousin is in love with you, I know." + +"Oh, it's terrible to feel oneself so in this man's power," +thought Rostov. He knew what a shock he would inflict on his father +and mother by the news of this loss, he knew what a relief it would be +to escape it all, and felt that Dolokhov knew that he could save him +from all this shame and sorrow, but wanted now to play with him as a +cat does with a mouse. + +"Your cousin..." Dolokhov started to say, but Nicholas interrupted +him. + +"My cousin has nothing to do with this and it's not necessary to +mention her!" he exclaimed fiercely. + +"Then when am I to have it?" + +"Tomorrow," replied Rostov and left the room. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +To say "tomorrow" and keep up a dignified tone was not difficult, +but to go home alone, see his sisters, brother, mother, and father, +confess and ask for money he had no right to after giving his word +of honor, was terrible. + +At home, they had not yet gone to bed. The young people, after +returning from the theater, had had supper and were grouped round +the clavichord. As soon as Nicholas entered, he was enfolded in that +poetic atmosphere of love which pervaded the Rostov household that +winter and, now after Dolokhov's proposal and Iogel's ball, seemed +to have grown thicker round Sonya and Natasha as the air does before a +thunderstorm. Sonya and Natasha, in the light-blue dresses they had +worn at the theater, looking pretty and conscious of it, were standing +by the clavichord, happy and smiling. Vera was playing chess with +Shinshin in the drawing room. The old countess, waiting for the return +of her husband and son, sat playing patience with the old +gentlewoman who lived in their house. Denisov, with sparkling eyes and +ruffled hair, sat at the clavichord striking chords with his short +fingers, his legs thrown back and his eyes rolling as he sang, with +his small, husky, but true voice, some verses called "Enchantress," +which he had composed, and to which he was trying to fit music: + + Enchantress, say, to my forsaken lyre + What magic power is this recalls me still? + What spark has set my inmost soul on fire, + What is this bliss that makes my fingers thrill? + +He was singing in passionate tones, gazing with his +sparkling black-agate eyes at the frightened and happy Natasha. + +"Splendid! Excellent!" exclaimed Natasha. "Another verse," she +said, without noticing Nicholas. + +"Everything's still the same with them," thought Nicholas, +glancing into the drawing room, where he saw Vera and his mother +with the old lady. + +"Ah, and here's Nicholas!" cried Natasha, running up to him. + +"Is Papa at home?" he asked. + +"I am so glad you've come!" said Natasha, without answering him. "We +are enjoying ourselves! Vasili Dmitrich is staying a day longer for my +sake! Did you know?" + +"No, Papa is not back yet," said Sonya. + +"Nicholas, have you come? Come here, dear!" called the old +countess from the drawing room. + +Nicholas went to her, kissed her hand, and sitting down silently +at her table began to watch her hands arranging the cards. From the +dancing room, they still heard the laughter and merry voices trying to +persuade Natasha to sing. + +"All wight! All wight!" shouted Denisov. "It's no good making +excuses now! It's your turn to sing the ba'cawolla--I entweat you!" + +The countess glanced at her silent son. + +"What is the matter?" she asked. + +"Oh, nothing," said he, as if weary of being continually asked the +same question. "Will Papa be back soon?" + +"I expect so." + +"Everything's the same with them. They know nothing about it! +Where am I to go?" thought Nicholas, and went again into the dancing +room where the clavichord stood. + +Sonya was sitting at the clavichord, playing the prelude to +Denisov's favorite barcarolle. Natasha was preparing to sing. +Denisov was looking at her with enraptured eyes. + +Nicholas began pacing up and down the room. + +"Why do they want to make her sing? How can she sing? There's +nothing to be happy about!" thought he. + +Sonya struck the first chord of the prelude. + +"My God, I'm a ruined and dishonored man! A bullet through my +brain is the only thing left me--not singing!" his thoughts ran on. +"Go away? But where to? It's one--let them sing!" + +He continued to pace the room, looking gloomily at Denisov and the +girls and avoiding their eyes. + +"Nikolenka, what is the matter?" Sonya's eyes fixed on him seemed to +ask. She noticed at once that something had happened to him. + +Nicholas turned away from her. Natasha too, with her quick instinct, +had instantly noticed her brother's condition. But, though she noticed +it, she was herself in such high spirits at that moment, so far from +sorrow, sadness, or self-reproach, that she purposely deceived herself +as young people often do. "No, I am too happy now to spoil my +enjoyment by sympathy with anyone's sorrow," she felt, and she said to +herself: "No, I must be mistaken, he must be feeling happy, just as +I am." + +"Now, Sonya!" she said, going to the very middle of the room, +where she considered the resonance was best. + +Having lifted her head and let her arms droop lifelessly, as +ballet dancers do, Natasha, rising energetically from her heels to her +toes, stepped to the middle of the room and stood still. + +"Yes, that's me!" she seemed to say, answering the rapt gaze with +which Denisov followed her. + +"And what is she so pleased about?" thought Nicholas, looking at his +sister. "Why isn't she dull and ashamed?" + +Natasha took the first note, her throat swelled, her chest rose, her +eyes became serious. At that moment she was oblivious of her +surroundings, and from her smiling lips flowed sounds which anyone may +produce at the same intervals hold for the same time, but which +leave you cold a thousand times and the thousand and first time thrill +you and make you weep. + +Natasha, that winter, had for the first time begun to sing +seriously, mainly because Denisov so delighted in her singing. She +no longer sang as a child, there was no longer in her singing that +comical, childish, painstaking effect that had been in it before; +but she did not yet sing well, as all the connoisseurs who heard her +said: "It is not trained, but it is a beautiful voice that must be +trained." Only they generally said this some time after she had +finished singing. While that untrained voice, with its incorrect +breathing and labored transitions, was sounding, even the connoisseurs +said nothing, but only delighted in it and wished to hear it again. In +her voice there was a virginal freshness, an unconsciousness of her +own powers, and an as yet untrained velvety softness, which so mingled +with her lack of art in singing that it seemed as if nothing in that +voice could be altered without spoiling it. + +"What is this?" thought Nicholas, listening to her with widely +opened eyes. "What has happened to her? How she is singing today!" And +suddenly the whole world centered for him on anticipation of the +next note, the next phrase, and everything in the world was divided +into three beats: "Oh mio crudele affetto."... One, two, three... one, +two, three... One... "Oh mio crudele affetto."... One, two, three... +One. "Oh, this senseless life of ours!" thought Nicholas. "All this +misery, and money, and Dolokhov, and anger, and honor--it's all +nonsense... but this is real.... Now then, Natasha, now then, dearest! +Now then, darling! How will she take that si? She's taken it! Thank +God!" And without noticing that he was singing, to strengthen the si +he sung a second, a third below the high note. "Ah, God! How fine! Did +I really take it? How fortunate!" he thought. + +Oh, how that chord vibrated, and how moved was something that was +finest in Rostov's soul! And this something was apart from +everything else in the world and above everything in the world. +"What were losses, and Dolokhov, and words of honor?... All +nonsense! One might kill and rob and yet be happy..." + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +It was long since Rostov had felt such enjoyment from music as he +did that day. But no sooner had Natasha finished her barcarolle than +reality again presented itself. He got up without saying a word and +went downstairs to his own room. A quarter of an hour later the old +count came in from his Club, cheerful and contented. Nicholas, hearing +him drive up, went to meet him. + +"Well--had a good time?" said the old count, smiling gaily and +proudly at his son. + +Nicholas tried to say "Yes," but could not: and he nearly burst into +sobs. The count was lighting his pipe and did not notice his son's +condition. + +"Ah, it can't be avoided!" thought Nicholas, for the first and +last time. And suddenly, in the most casual tone, which made him +feel ashamed of himself, he said, as if merely asking his +father to let him have the carriage to drive to town: + +"Papa, I have come on a matter of business. I was nearly forgetting. +I need some money." + +"Dear me!" said his father, who was in a specially good humor. "I +told you it would not be enough. How much?" + +"Very much," said Nicholas flushing, and with a stupid careless +smile, for which he was long unable to forgive himself, "I have lost a +little, I mean a good deal, a great deal--forty three thousand." + +"What! To whom?... Nonsense!" cried the count, suddenly reddening +with an apoplectic flush over neck and nape as old people do. + +"I promised to pay tomorrow," said Nicholas. + +"Well!..." said the old count, spreading out his arms and sinking +helplessly on the sofa. + +"It can't be helped It happens to everyone!" said the son, with a +bold, free, and easy tone, while in his soul he regarded himself as +a worthless scoundrel whose whole life could not atone for his +crime. He longed to kiss his father's hands and kneel to beg his +forgiveness, but said, in a careless and even rude voice, that it +happens to everyone! + +The old count cast down his eyes on hearing his son's words and +began bustlingly searching for something. + +"Yes, yes," he muttered, "it will be difficult, I fear, difficult to +raise... happens to everybody! Yes, who has not done it?" + +And with a furtive glance at his son's face, the count went out of +the room.... Nicholas had been prepared for resistance, but had not at +all expected this. + +"Papa! Pa-pa!" he called after him, sobbing, "forgive me!" And +seizing his father's hand, he pressed it to his lips and burst into +tears. + +While father and son were having their explanation, the mother and +daughter were having one not less important. Natasha came running to +her mother, quite excited. + +"Mamma!... Mamma!... He has made me..." + +"Made what?" + +"Made, made me an offer, Mamma! Mamma!" she exclaimed. + +The countess did not believe her ears. Denisov had proposed. To +whom? To this chit of a girl, Natasha, who not so long ago was playing +with dolls and who was still having lessons. + +"Don't, Natasha! What nonsense!" she said, hoping it was a joke. + +"Nonsense, indeed! I am telling you the fact," said Natasha +indignantly. "I come to ask you what to do, and you call it +'nonsense!'" + +The countess shrugged her shoulders. + +"If it true that Monsieur Denisov has made you a proposal, tell +him he is a fool, that's all!" + +"No, he's not a fool!" replied Natasha indignantly and seriously. + +"Well then, what do you want? You're all in love nowadays. Well, +if you are in love, marry him!" said the countess, with a laugh of +annoyance. "Good luck to you!" + +"No, Mamma, I'm not in love with him, I suppose I'm not in love with +him." + +"Well then, tell him so." + +"Mamma, are you cross? Don't be cross, dear! Is it my fault?" + +"No, but what is it, my dear? Do you want me to go and tell him?" +said the countess smiling. + +"No, I will do it myself, only tell me what to say. It's all very +well for you," said Natasha, with a responsive smile. "You should have +seen how he said it! I know he did not mean to say it, but it came out +accidently." + +"Well, all the same, you must refuse him." + +"No, I mustn't. I am so sorry for him! He's so nice." + +"Well then, accept his offer. It's high time for you to be married," +answered the countess sharply and sarcastically. + +"No, Mamma, but I'm so sorry for him. I don't know how I'm to say +it." + +"And there's nothing for you to say. I shall speak to him myself," +said the countess, indignant that they should have dared to treat this +little Natasha as grown up. + +"No, not on any account! I will tell him myself, and you'll listen +at the door," and Natasha ran across the drawing room to the dancing +hall, where Denisov was sitting on the same chair by the clavichord +with his face in his hands. + +He jumped up at the sound of her light step. + +"Nataly," he said, moving with rapid steps toward her, "decide my +fate. It is in your hands." + +"Vasili Dmitrich, I'm so sorry for you!... No, but you are so +nice... but it won't do...not that... but as a friend, I shall +always love you." + +Denisov bent over her hand and she heard strange sounds she did +not understand. She kissed his rough curly black head. At this +instant, they heard the quick rustle of the countess' dress. She +came up to them. + +"Vasili Dmitrich, I thank you for the honor," she said, with an +embarrassed voice, though it sounded severe to Denisov--"but my +daughter is so young, and I thought that, as my son's friend, you +would have addressed yourself first to me. In that case you would +not have obliged me to give this refusal." + +"Countess..." said Denisov, with downcast eyes and a guilty face. He +tried to say more, but faltered. + +Natasha could not remain calm, seeing him in such a plight. She +began to sob aloud. + +"Countess, I have done w'ong," Denisov went on in an unsteady voice, +"but believe me, I so adore your daughter and all your family that I +would give my life twice over..." He looked at the countess, and +seeing her severe face said: "Well, good-by, Countess," and kissing +her hand, he left the room with quick resolute strides, without +looking at Natasha. + + +Next day Rostov saw Denisov off. He not wish to stay another day +in Moscow. All Denisov's Moscow friends gave him a farewell +entertainment at the gypsies', with the result that he had no +recollection of how he was put in the sleigh or of the first three +stages of his journey. + +After Denisov's departure, Rostov spent another fortnight in Moscow, +without going out of the house, waiting for the money his father could +not at once raise, and he spent most of his time in the girls' room. + +Sonya was more tender and devoted to him than ever. It was as if she +wanted to show him that his losses were an achievement that made her +love him all the more, but Nicholas now considered himself unworthy of +her. + +He filled the girls' albums with verses and music, and having at +last sent Dolokhov the whole forty-three thousand rubles and +received his receipt, he left at the end of November, without taking +leave of any of his acquaintances, to overtake his regiment which +was already in Poland. + + + + + +BOOK FIVE: 1806 --07 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +After his interview with his wife Pierre left for Petersburg. At the +Torzhok post station, either there were no horses or the postmaster +would not supply them. Pierre was obliged to wait. Without undressing, +he lay down on the leather sofa in front of a round table, put his big +feet in their overboots on the table, and began to reflect. + +"Will you have the portmanteaus brought in? And a bed got ready, and +tea?" asked his valet. + +Pierre gave no answer, for he neither heard nor saw anything. He had +begun to think of the last station and was still pondering on the same +question--one so important that he took no notice of what went on +around him. Not only was he indifferent as to whether he got to +Petersburg earlier or later, or whether he secured accommodation at +this station, but compared to the thoughts that now occupied him it +was a matter of indifference whether he remained there for a few hours +or for the rest of his life. + +The postmaster, his wife, the valet, and a peasant woman selling +Torzhok embroidery came into the room offering their services. Without +changing his careless attitude, Pierre looked at them over his +spectacles unable to understand what they wanted or how they could +go on living without having solved the problems that so absorbed +him. He had been engrossed by the same thoughts ever since the day +he returned from Sokolniki after the duel and had spent that first +agonizing, sleepless night. But now, in the solitude of the journey, +they seized him with special force. No matter what he thought about, +he always returned to these same questions which he could not solve +and yet could not cease to ask himself. It was as if the thread of the +chief screw which held his life together were stripped, so that the +screw could not get in or out, but went on turning uselessly in the +same place. + +The postmaster came in and began obsequiously to beg his +excellency to wait only two hours, when, come what might, he would let +his excellency have the courier horses. It was plain that he was lying +and only wanted to get more money from the traveler. + +"Is this good or bad?" Pierre asked himself. "It is good for me, bad +for another traveler, and for himself it's unavoidable, because he +needs money for food; the man said an officer had once given him a +thrashing for letting a private traveler have the courier horses. +But the officer thrashed him because he had to get on as quickly as +possible. And I," continued Pierre, "shot Dolokhov because I +considered myself injured, and Louis XVI was executed because they +considered him a criminal, and a year later they executed those who +executed him--also for some reason. What is bad? What is good? What +should one love and what hate? What does one live for? And what am +I? What is life, and what is death? What power governs all?" + +There was no answer to any of these questions, except one, and +that not a logical answer and not at all a reply to them. The answer +was: "You'll die and all will end. You'll die and know all, or cease +asking." But dying was also dreadful. + +The Torzhok peddler woman, in a whining voice, went on offering +her wares, especially a pair of goatskin slippers. "I have hundreds of +rubles I don't know what to do with, and she stands in her tattered +cloak looking timidly at me," he thought. "And what does she want +the money for? As if that money could add a hair's breadth to +happiness or peace of mind. Can anything in the world make her or me +less a prey to evil and death?--death which ends all and must come +today or tomorrow--at any rate, in an instant as compared with +eternity." And again he twisted the screw with the stripped thread, +and again it turned uselessly in the same place. + +His servant handed him a half-cut novel, in the form of letters, +by Madame de Souza. He began reading about the sufferings and virtuous +struggles of a certain Emilie de Mansfeld. "And why did she resist her +seducer when she loved him?" he thought. "God could not have put +into her heart an impulse that was against His will. My wife--as she +once was--did not struggle, and perhaps she was right. Nothing has +been found out, nothing discovered," Pierre again said to himself. +"All we can know is that we know nothing. And that's the height of +human wisdom." + +Everything within and around him seemed confused, senseless, and +repellent. Yet in this very repugnance to all his circumstances Pierre +found a kind of tantalizing satisfaction. + +"I make bold to ask your excellency to move a little for this +gentleman," said the postmaster, entering the room followed by another +traveler, also detained for lack of horses. + +The newcomer was a short, large-boned, yellow-faced, wrinkled old +man, with gray bushy eyebrows overhanging bright eyes of an indefinite +grayish color. + +Pierre took his feet off the table, stood up, and lay down on a +bed that had been got ready for him, glancing now and then at the +newcomer, who, with a gloomy and tired face, was wearily taking off +his wraps with the aid of his servant, and not looking at Pierre. With +a pair of felt boots on his thin bony legs, and keeping on a worn, +nankeen-covered, sheepskin coat, the traveler sat down on the sofa, +leaned back his big head with its broad temples and close-cropped +hair, and looked at Bezukhov. The stern, shrewd, and penetrating +expression of that look struck Pierre. He felt a wish to speak to +the stranger, but by the time he had made up his mind to ask him a +question about the roads, the traveler had closed his eyes. His +shriveled old hands were folded and on the finger of one of them +Pierre noticed a large cast iron ring with a seal representing a +death's head. The stranger sat without stirring, either resting or, as +it seemed to Pierre, sunk in profound and calm meditation. His servant +was also a yellow, wrinkled old man, without beard or mustache, +evidently not because he was shaven but because they had never +grown. This active old servant was unpacking the traveler's canteen +and preparing tea. He brought in a boiling samovar. When everything +was ready, the stranger opened his eyes, moved to the table, filled +a tumbler with tea for himself and one for the beardless old man to +whom he passed it. Pierre began to feel a sense of uneasiness, and the +need, even the inevitability, of entering into conversation with +this stranger. + +The servant brought back his tumbler turned upside down,* with an +unfinished bit of nibbled sugar, and asked if anything more would be +wanted. + + +*To indicate he did not want more tea. + + +"No. Give me the book," said the stranger. + +The servant handed him a book which Pierre took to be a devotional +work, and the traveler became absorbed in it. Pierre looked at him. +All at once the stranger closed the book, putting in a marker, and +again, leaning with his arms on the back of the sofa, sat in his +former position with his eyes shut. Pierre looked at him and had not +time to turn away when the old man, opening his eyes, fixed his steady +and severe gaze straight on Pierre's face. + +Pierre felt confused and wished to avoid that look, but the bright +old eyes attracted him irresistibly. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +"I have the pleasure of addressing Count Bezukhov, if I am not +mistaken," said the stranger in a deliberate and loud voice. + +Pierre looked silently and inquiringly at him over his spectacles. + +"I have heard of you, my dear sir," continued the stranger, "and +of your misfortune." He seemed to emphasize the last word, as if to +say--"Yes, misfortune! Call it what you please, I know that what +happened to you in Moscow was a misfortune."--"I regret it very +much, my dear sir." + +Pierre flushed and, hurriedly putting his legs down from the bed, +bent forward toward the old man with a forced and timid smile. + +"I have not referred to this out of curiosity, my dear sir, but +for greater reasons." + +He paused, his gaze still on Pierre, and moved aside on the sofa +by way of inviting the other to take a seat beside him. Pierre felt +reluctant to enter into conversation with this old man, but, +submitting to him involuntarily, came up and sat down beside him. + +"You are unhappy, my dear sir," the stranger continued. "You are +young and I am old. I should like to help you as far as lies in my +power." + +"Oh, yes!" said Pierre, with a forced smile. "I am very grateful +to you. Where are you traveling from?" + +The stranger's face was not genial, it was even cold and severe, but +in spite of this, both the face and words of his new acquaintance were +irresistibly attractive to Pierre. + +"But if for reason you don't feel inclined to talk to me," said +the old man, "say so, my dear sir." And he suddenly smiled, in an +unexpected and tenderly paternal way. + +"Oh no, not at all! On the contrary, I am very glad to make your +acquaintance," said Pierre. And again, glancing at the stranger's +hands, he looked more closely at the ring, with its skull--a Masonic +sign. + +"Allow me to ask," he said, "are you a Mason?" + +"Yes, I belong to the Brotherhood of the Freemasons," said the +stranger, looking deeper and deeper into Pierre's eyes. "And in +their name and my own I hold out a brotherly hand to you." + +"I am afraid," said Pierre, smiling, and wavering between the +confidence the personality of the Freemason inspired in him and his +own habit of ridiculing the Masonic beliefs--"I am afraid I am very +far from understanding--how am I to put it?--I am afraid my way of +looking at the world is so opposed to yours that we shall not +understand one another." + +"I know your outlook," said the Mason, "and the view of life you +mention, and which you think is the result of your own mental efforts, +is the one held by the majority of people, and is the invariable fruit +of pride, indolence, and ignorance. Forgive me, my dear sir, but if +I had not known it I should not have addressed you. Your view of +life is a regrettable delusion." + +"Just as I may suppose you to be deluded," said Pierre, with a faint +smile. + +"I should never dare to say that I know the truth," said the +Mason, whose words struck Pierre more and more by their precision +and firmness. "No one can attain to truth by himself. Only by laying +stone on stone with the cooperation of all, by the millions of +generations from our forefather Adam to our own times, is that +temple reared which is to be a worthy dwelling place of the Great +God," he added, and closed his eyes. + +"I ought to tell you that I do not believe... do not believe in God," +said Pierre, regretfully and with an effort, feeling it essential to +speak the whole truth. + +The Mason looked intently at Pierre and smiled as a rich man with +millions in hand might smile at a poor fellow who told him that he, +poor man, had not the five rubles that would make him happy. + +"Yes, you do not know Him, my dear sir," said the Mason. "You cannot +know Him. You do not know Him and that is why you are unhappy." + +"Yes, yes, I am unhappy," assented Pierre. "But what am I to do?" + +"You know Him not, my dear sir, and so you are very unhappy. You +do not know Him, but He is here, He is in me, He is in my words, He +is in thee, and even in those blasphemous words thou hast just +uttered!" pronounced the Mason in a stern and tremulous voice. + +He paused and sighed, evidently trying to calm himself. + +"If He were not," he said quietly, "you and I would not be +speaking of Him, my dear sir. Of what, of whom, are we speaking? +Whom hast thou denied?" he suddenly asked with exulting austerity +and authority in his voice. "Who invented Him, if He did not exist? +Whence came thy conception of the existence of such an +incomprehensible Being? didst thou, and why did the whole world, +conceive the idea of the existence of such an incomprehensible +Being, a Being all-powerful, eternal, and infinite in all His +attributes?..." + +He stopped and remained silent for a long time. + +Pierre could not and did not wish to break this silence. + +"He exists, but to understand Him is hard," the Mason began again, +looking not at Pierre but straight before him, and turning the +leaves of his book with his old hands which from excitement he could +not keep still. "If it were a man whose existence thou didst doubt I +could bring him to thee, could take him by the hand and show him to +thee. But how can I, an insignificant mortal, show His omnipotence, +His infinity, and all His mercy to one who is blind, or who shuts +his eyes that he may not see or understand Him and may not see or +understand his own vileness and sinfulness?" He paused again. "Who art +thou? Thou dreamest that thou art wise because thou couldst utter +those blasphemous words," he went on, with a somber and scornful +smile. "And thou art more foolish and unreasonable than a little +child, who, playing with the parts of a skillfully made watch, dares +to say that, as he does not understand its use, he does not believe in +the master who made it. To know Him is hard.... For ages, from our +forefather Adam to our own day, we labor to attain that knowledge +and are still infinitely far from our aim; but in our lack of +understanding we see only our weakness and His greatness...." + +Pierre listened with swelling heart, gazing into the Mason's face +with shining eyes, not interrupting or questioning him, but +believing with his whole soul what the stranger said. Whether he +accepted the wise reasoning contained in the Mason's words, or +believed as a child believes, in the speaker's tone of conviction +and earnestness, or the tremor of the speaker's voice--which sometimes +almost broke--or those brilliant aged eyes grown old in this +conviction, or the calm firmness and certainty of his vocation, +which radiated from his whole being (and which struck Pierre +especially by contrast with his own dejection and hopelessness)--at +any rate, Pierre longed with his whole soul to believe and he did +believe, and felt a joyful sense of comfort, regeneration, and +return to life. + +"He is not to be apprehended by reason, but by life," said the +Mason. + +"I do not understand," said Pierre, feeling with dismay doubts +reawakening. He was afraid of any want of clearness, any weakness, +in the Mason's arguments; he dreaded not to be able to believe in him. +"I don't understand," he said, "how it is that the mind of man +cannot attain the knowledge of which you speak." + +The Mason smiled with his gentle fatherly smile. + +"The highest wisdom and truth are like the purest liquid we may wish +to imbibe," he said. "Can I receive that pure liquid into an impure +vessel and judge of its purity? Only by the inner purification of +myself can I retain in some degree of purity the liquid I receive." + +"Yes, yes, that is so," said Pierre joyfully. + +"The highest wisdom is not founded on reason alone, not on those +worldly sciences of physics, history, chemistry, and the like, into +which intellectual knowledge is divided. The highest wisdom is one. +The highest wisdom has but one science--the science of the whole- +the science explaining the whole creation and man's place in it. To +receive that science it is necessary to purify and renew one's inner +self, and so before one can know, it is necessary to believe and to +perfect one's self. And to attain this end, we have the light called +conscience that God has implanted in our souls." + +"Yes, yes," assented Pierre. + +"Look then at thy inner self with the eyes of the spirit, and ask +thyself whether thou art content with thyself. What hast thou attained +relying on reason only? What art thou? You are young, you are rich, +you are clever, you are well educated. And what have you done with all +these good gifts? Are you content with yourself and with your life?" + +"No, I hate my life," Pierre muttered, wincing. + +"Thou hatest it. Then change it, purify thyself; and as thou art +purified, thou wilt gain wisdom. Look at your life, my dear sir. How +have you spent it? In riotous orgies and debauchery, receiving +everything from society and giving nothing in return. You have +become the possessor of wealth. How have you used it? What have you +done for your neighbor? Have you ever thought of your tens of +thousands of slaves? Have you helped them physically and morally? +No! You have profited by their toil to lead a profligate life. That is +what you have done. Have you chosen a post in which you might be of +service to your neighbor? No! You have spent your life in idleness. +Then you married, my dear sir--took on yourself responsibility for the +guidance of a young woman; and what have you done? You have not helped +her to find the way of truth, my dear sir, but have thrust her into an +abyss of deceit and misery. A man offended you and you shot him, and +you say you do not know God and hate your life. There is nothing +strange in that, my dear sir!" + +After these words, the Mason, as if tired by his long discourse, +again leaned his arms on the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. +Pierre looked at that aged, stern, motionless, almost lifeless face +and moved his lips without uttering a sound. He wished to say, "Yes, a +vile, idle, vicious life!" but dared not break the silence. + +The Mason cleared his throat huskily, as old men do, and called +his servant. + +"How about the horses?" he asked, without looking at Pierre. + +"The exchange horses have just come," answered the servant. "Will +you not rest here?" + +"No, tell them to harness." + +"Can he really be going away leaving me alone without having told me +all, and without promising to help me?" thought Pierre, rising with +downcast head; and he began to pace the room, glancing occasionally at +the Mason. "Yes, I never thought of it, but I have led a +contemptible and profligate life, though I did not like it and did not +want to," thought Pierre. "But this man knows the truth and, if he +wished to, could disclose it to me." + +Pierre wished to say this to the Mason, but did not dare to. The +traveler, having packed his things with his practiced hands, began +fastening his coat. When he had finished, he turned to Bezukhov, and +said in a tone of indifferent politeness: + +"Where are you going to now, my dear sir?" + +"I?... I'm going to Petersburg," answered Pierre, in a childlike, +hesitating voice. "I thank you. I agree with all you have said. But do +not suppose me to be so bad. With my whole soul I wish to be what +you would have me be, but I have never had help from anyone.... But it +is I, above all, who am to blame for everything. Help me, teach me, +and perhaps I may..." + +Pierre could not go on. He gulped and turned away. + +The Mason remained silent for a long time, evidently considering. + +"Help comes from God alone," he said, "but such measure of help as +our Order can bestow it will render you, my dear sir. You are going to +Petersburg. Hand this to Count Willarski" (he took out his notebook +and wrote a few words on a large sheet of paper folded in four). +"Allow me to give you a piece of advice. When you reach the capital, +first of all devote some time to solitude and self-examination and +do not resume your former way of life. And now I wish you a good +journey, my dear sir," he added, seeing that his servant had +entered... "and success." + +The traveler was Joseph Alexeevich Bazdeev, as Pierre saw from the +postmaster's book. Bazdeev had been one of the best-known Freemasons +and Martinists, even in Novikov's time. For a long while after he +had gone, Pierre did not go to bed or order horses but paced up and +down the room, pondering over his vicious past, and with a rapturous +sense of beginning anew pictured to himself the blissful, +irreproachable, virtuous future that seemed to him so easy. It +seemed to him that he had been vicious only because he had somehow +forgotten how good it is to be virtuous. Not a trace of his former +doubts remained in his soul. He firmly believed in the possibility +of the brotherhood of men united in the aim of supporting one +another in the path of virtue, and that is how Freemasonry presented +itself to him. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +On reaching Petersburg Pierre did not let anyone know of his +arrival, he went nowhere and spent whole days in reading Thomas a +Kempis, whose book had been sent him by someone unknown. One thing +he continually realized as he read that book: the joy, hitherto +unknown to him, of believing in the possibility of attaining +perfection, and in the possibility of active brotherly love among men, +which Joseph Alexeevich had revealed to him. A week after his arrival, +the young Polish count, Willarski, whom Pierre had known slightly in +Petersburg society, came into his room one evening in the official and +ceremonious manner in which Dolokhov's second had called on him, +and, having closed the door behind him and satisfied himself that +there was nobody else in the room, addressed Pierre. + +"I have come to you with a message and an offer, Count," he said +without sitting down. "A person of very high standing in our +Brotherhood has made application for you to be received into our Order +before the usual term and has proposed to me to be your sponsor. I +consider it a sacred duty to fulfill that person's wishes. Do you wish +to enter the Brotherhood of Freemasons under my sponsorship?" + + The cold, austere tone of this man, whom he had almost always +before met at balls, amiably smiling in the society of the most +brilliant women, surprised Pierre. + +"Yes, I do wish it," said he. + +Willarski bowed his head. + +"One more question, Count," he said, "which beg you to answer in all +sincerity--not as a future Mason but as an honest man: have you +renounced your former convictions--do you believe in God?" + +Pierre considered. + +"Yes... yes, I believe in God," he said. + +"In that case..." began Willarski, but Pierre interrupted him. + +"Yes, I do believe in God," he repeated. + +"In that case we can go," said Willarski. "My carriage is at your +service." + +Willarski was silent throughout the drive. To Pierre's inquiries +as to what he must do and how he should answer, Willarski only replied +that brothers more worthy than he would test him and that Pierre had +only to tell the truth. + +Having entered the courtyard of a large house where the Lodge had +its headquarters, and having ascended a dark staircase, they entered a +small well-lit anteroom where they took off their cloaks without the +aid of a servant. From there they passed into another room. A man in +strange attire appeared at the door. Willarski, stepping toward him, +said something to him in French in an undertone and then went up to +a small wardrobe in which Pierre noticed garments such as he had never +seen before. Having taken a kerchief from the cupboard, Willarski +bound Pierre's eyes with it and tied it in a knot behind, catching +some hairs painfully in the knot. Then he drew his face down, kissed +him, and taking him by the hand led him forward. The hairs tied in the +knot hurt Pierre and there were lines of pain on his face and a +shamefaced smile. His huge figure, with arms hanging down and with a +puckered, though smiling face, moved after Willarski with uncertain, +timid steps. + +Having led him about ten paces, Willarski stopped. + +"Whatever happens to you," he said, "you must bear it all manfully +if you have firmly resolved to join our Brotherhood." (Pierre nodded +affirmatively.) "When you hear a knock at the door, you will uncover +your eyes," added Willarski. "I wish you courage and success," and, +pressing Pierre's hand, he went out. + +Left alone, Pierre went on smiling in the same way. Once or twice he +shrugged his and raised his hand to the kerchief, as if wishing to +take it off, but let it drop again. The five minutes spent with his +eyes bandaged seemed to him an hour. His arms felt numb, his legs +almost gave way, it seemed to him that he was tired out. He +experienced a variety of most complex sensations. He felt afraid of +what would happen to him and still more afraid of showing his fear. He +felt curious to know what was going to happen and what would be +revealed to him; but most of all, he felt joyful that the moment had +come when he would at last start on that path of regeneration and on +the actively virtuous life of which he had been dreaming since he +met Joseph Alexeevich. Loud knocks were heard at the door. Pierre took +the bandage off his eyes and glanced around him. The room was in black +darkness, only a small lamp was burning inside something white. Pierre +went nearer and saw that the lamp stood on a black table on which +lay an open book. The book was the Gospel, and the white thing with +the lamp inside was a human skull with its cavities and teeth. After +reading the first words of the Gospel: "In the beginning was the +Word and the Word was with God," Pierre went round the table and saw a +large open box filled with something. It was a coffin with bones +inside. He was not at all surprised by what he saw. Hoping to enter on +an entirely new life quite unlike the old one, he expected +everything to be unusual, even more unusual than what he was seeing. A +skull, a coffin, the Gospel--it seemed to him that he had expected all +this and even more. Trying to stimulate his emotions he looked around. +"God, death, love, the brotherhood of man," he kept saying to himself, +associating these words with vague yet joyful ideas. The door opened +and someone came in. + +By the dim light, to which Pierre had already become accustomed, +he saw rather short man. Having evidently come from the light into the +darkness, the man paused, then moved with cautious steps toward the +table and placed on it his small leather-gloved hands. + +This short man had on a white leather apron which covered his +chest and part of his legs; he had on a kind of necklace above which +rose a high white ruffle, outlining his rather long face which was lit +up from below. + +"For what have you come hither?" asked the newcomer, turning in +Pierre's direction at a slight rustle made by the latter. "Why have +you, who do not believe in the truth of the light and who have not +seen the light, come here? What do you seek from us? Wisdom, virtue, +enlightenment?" + +At the moment the door opened and the stranger came in, Pierre +felt a sense of awe and veneration such as he had experienced in his +boyhood at confession; he felt himself in the presence of one socially +a complete stranger, yet nearer to him through the brotherhood of man. +With bated breath and beating heart he moved toward the Rhetor (by +which name the brother who prepared a seeker for entrance into the +Brotherhood was known). Drawing nearer, he recognized in the Rhetor +a man he knew, Smolyaninov, and it mortified him to think that the +newcomer was an acquaintance--he wished him simply a brother and a +virtuous instructor. For a long time he could not utter a word, so +that the Rhetor had to repeat his question. + +"Yes... I... I... desire regeneration," Pierre uttered with +difficulty. + +"Very well," said Smolyaninov, and went on at once: "Have you any +idea of the means by which our holy Order will help you to reach +your aim?" said he quietly and quickly. + +"I... hope... for guidance... help... in regeneration," said Pierre, +with a trembling voice and some difficulty in utterance due to his +excitement and to being unaccustomed to speak of abstract matters in +Russian. + +"What is your conception of Freemasonry?" + +"I imagine that Freemasonry is the fraternity and equality of men +who have virtuous aims," said Pierre, feeling ashamed of the +inadequacy of his words for the solemnity of the moment, as he +spoke. "I imagine..." + +"Good!" said the Rhetor quickly, apparently satisfied with this +answer. "Have you sought for means of attaining your aim in religion?" + +"No, I considered it erroneous and did not follow it," said +Pierre, so softly that the Rhetor did not hear him and asked him +what he was saying. "I have been an atheist," answered Pierre. + +"You are seeking for truth in order to follow its laws in your life, +therefore you seek wisdom and virtue. Is that not so?" said the +Rhetor, after a moment's pause. + +"Yes, yes," assented Pierre. + +The Rhetor cleared his throat, crossed his gloved hands on his +breast, and began to speak. + +"Now I must disclose to you the chief aim of our Order," he said, +"and if this aim coincides with yours, you may enter our Brotherhood +with profit. The first and chief object of our Order, the foundation +on which it rests and which no human power can destroy, is the +preservation and handing on to posterity of a certain important +mystery... which has come down to us from the remotest ages, even from +the first man--a mystery on which perhaps the fate of mankind depends. +But since this mystery is of such a nature that nobody can know or use +it unless he be prepared by long and diligent self-purification, not +everyone can hope to attain it quickly. Hence we have a secondary aim, +that of preparing our members as much as possible to reform their +hearts, to purify and enlighten their minds, by means handed on to +us by tradition from those who have striven to attain this mystery, +and thereby to render them capable of receiving it. + +"By purifying and regenerating our members we try, thirdly, to +improve the whole human race, offering it in our members an example of +piety and virtue, and thereby try with all our might to combat the +evil which sways the world. Think this over and I will come to you +again." + +"To combat the evil which sways the world..." Pierre repeated, and a +mental image of his future activity in this direction rose in his +mind. He imagined men such as he had himself been a fortnight ago, and +he addressed an edifying exhortation to them. He imagined to himself +vicious and unfortunate people whom he would assist by word and +deed, imagined oppressors whose victims he would rescue. Of the +three objects mentioned by the Rhetor, this last, that of improving +mankind, especially appealed to Pierre. The important mystery +mentioned by the Rhetor, though it aroused his curiosity, did not seem +to him essential, and the second aim, that of purifying and +regenerating himself, did not much interest him because at that moment +he felt with delight that he was already perfectly cured of his former +faults and was ready for all that was good. + +Half an hour later, the Rhetor returned to inform the seeker of +the seven virtues, corresponding to the seven steps of Solomon's +temple, which every Freemason should cultivate in himself. These +virtues were: 1. Discretion, the keeping of the secrets of the Order. + 2. Obedience to those of higher ranks in the Order. 3. Morality. 4. +Love of mankind. 5. Courage. 6. Generosity. 7. The love of death. + +"In the seventh place, try, by the frequent thought of death," the +Rhetor said, "to bring yourself to regard it not as a dreaded foe, but +as a friend that frees the soul grown weary in the labors of virtue +from this distressful life, and leads it to its place of recompense +and peace." + +"Yes, that must be so," thought Pierre, when after these words the +Rhetor went away, leaving him to solitary meditation. "It must be +so, but I am still so weak that I love my life, the meaning of which +is only now gradually opening before me." But five of the other +virtues which Pierre recalled, counting them on his fingers, he felt +already in his soul: courage, generosity, morality, love of mankind, +and especially obedience--which did not even seem to him a virtue, but +a joy. (He now felt so glad to be free from his own lawlessness and to +submit his will to those who knew the indubitable truth.) He forgot +what the seventh virtue was and could not recall it. + +The third time the Rhetor came back more quickly and asked Pierre +whether he was still firm in his intention and determined to submit to +all that would be required of him. + +"I am ready for everything," said Pierre. + +"I must also inform you," said the Rhetor, "that our Order +delivers its teaching not in words only but also by other means, which +may perhaps have a stronger effect on the sincere seeker after +wisdom and virtue than mere words. This chamber with what you see +therein should already have suggested to your heart, if it is sincere, +more than words could do. You will perhaps also see in your further +initiation a like method of enlightenment. Our Order imitates the +ancient societies that explained their teaching by hieroglyphics. A +hieroglyph," said the Rhetor, "is an emblem of something not +cognizable by the senses but which possesses qualities resembling +those of the symbol." + +Pierre knew very well what a hieroglyph was, but dared not speak. He +listened to the Rhetor in silence, feeling from all he said that his +ordeal was about to begin. + +"If you are resolved, I must begin your initiation," said the Rhetor +coming closer to Pierre. "In token of generosity I ask you to give +me all your valuables." + +"But I have nothing here," replied Pierre, supposing that he was +asked to give up all he possessed. + +"What you have with you: watch, money, rings...." + +Pierre quickly took out his purse and watch, but could not manage +for some time to get the wedding ring off his fat finger. When that +had been done, the Rhetor said: + +"In token of obedience, I ask you to undress." + +Pierre took off his coat, waistcoat, and left boot according to +the Rhetor's instructions. The Mason drew the shirt back from Pierre's +left breast, and stooping down pulled up the left leg of his +trousers to above the knee. Pierre hurriedly began taking off his +right boot also and was going to tuck up the other trouser leg to save +this stranger the trouble, but the Mason told him that was not +necessary and gave him a slipper for his left foot. With a childlike +smile of embarrassment, doubt, and self-derision, which appeared on +his face against his will, Pierre stood with his arms hanging down and +legs apart, before his brother Rhetor, and awaited his further +commands. + +"And now, in token of candor, I ask you to reveal to me your chief +passion," said the latter. + +"My passion! I have had so many," replied Pierre. + +"That passion which more than all others caused you to waver on +the path of virtue," said the Mason. + +Pierre paused, seeking a reply. + +"Wine? Gluttony? Idleness? Laziness? Irritability? Anger? Women?" He +went over his vices in his mind, not knowing to which of them to +give the pre-eminence. + +"Women," he said in a low, scarcely audible voice. + +The Mason did not move and for a long time said nothing after this +answer. At last he moved up to Pierre and, taking the kerchief that +lay on the table, again bound his eyes. + +"For the last time I say to you--turn all your attention upon +yourself, put a bridle on your senses, and seek blessedness, not in +passion but in your own heart. The source of blessedness is not +without us but within...." + +Pierre had already long been feeling in himself that refreshing +source of blessedness which now flooded his heart with glad emotion. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Soon after this there came into the dark chamber to fetch Pierre, +not the Rhetor but Pierre's sponsor, Willarski, whom he recognized +by his voice. To fresh questions as to the firmness of his +resolution Pierre replied: "Yes, yes, I agree," and with a beaming, +childlike smile, his fat chest uncovered, stepping unevenly and +timidly in one slippered and one booted foot, he advanced, while +Willarski held a sword to his bare chest. He was conducted from that +room along passages that turned backwards and forwards and was at last +brought to the doors of the Lodge. Willarski coughed, he was +answered by the Masonic knock with mallets, the doors opened before +them. A bass voice (Pierre was still blindfold) questioned him as to +who he was, when and where he was born, and so on. Then he was again +led somewhere still blindfold, and as they went along he was told +allegories of the toils of his pilgrimage, of holy friendship, of +the Eternal Architect of the universe, and of the courage with which +he should endure toils and dangers. During these wanderings, Pierre +noticed that he was spoken of now as the "Seeker," now as the +"Sufferer," and now as the "Postulant," to the accompaniment of +various knockings with mallets and swords. As he was being led up to +some object he noticed a hesitation and uncertainty among his +conductors. He heard those around him disputing in whispers and one of +them insisting that he should be led along a certain carpet. After +that they took his right hand, placed it on something, and told him to +hold a pair of compasses to his left breast with the other hand and to +repeat after someone who read aloud an oath of fidelity to the laws of +the Order. The candles were then extinguished and some spirit lighted, +as Pierre knew by the smell, and he was told that he would now see the +lesser light. The bandage was taken off his eyes and, by the faint +light of the burning spirit, Pierre, as in a dream, saw several men +standing before him, wearing aprons like the Rhetor's and holding +swords in their hands pointed at his breast. Among them stood a man +whose white shirt was stained with blood. On seeing this, Pierre moved +forward with his breast toward the swords, meaning them to pierce +it. But the swords were drawn back from him and he was at once +blindfolded again. + +"Now thou hast seen the lesser light," uttered a voice. Then the +candles were relit and he was told that he would see the full light; +the bandage was again removed and more than ten voices said +together: "Sic transit gloria mundi." + +Pierre gradually began to recover himself and looked about at the +room and at the people in it. Round a long table covered with black +sat some twelve men in garments like those he had already seen. Some +of them Pierre had met in Petersburg society. In the President's chair +sat a young man he did not know, with a peculiar cross hanging from +his neck. On his right sat the Italian abbe whom Pierre had met at +Anna Pavlovna's two years before. There were also present a very +distinguished dignitary and a Swiss who had formerly been tutor at the +Kuragins'. All maintained a solemn silence, listening to the words +of the President, who held a mallet in his hand. Let into the wall was +a star-shaped light. At one side of the table was a small carpet +with various figures worked upon it, at the other was something +resembling an altar on which lay a Testament and a skull. Round it +stood seven large candlesticks like those used in churches. Two of the +brothers led Pierre up to the altar, placed his feet at right +angles, and bade him lie down, saying that he must prostrate himself +at the Gates of the Temple. + +"He must first receive the trowel," whispered one of the brothers. + +"Oh, hush, please!" said another. + +Pierre, perplexed, looked round with his shortsighted eyes without +obeying, and suddenly doubts arose in his mind. "Where am I? What am I +doing? Aren't they laughing at me? Shan't I be ashamed to remember +this?" But these doubts only lasted a moment. Pierre glanced at the +serious faces of those around, remembered all he had already gone +through, and realized that he could not stop halfway. He was aghast at +his hesitation and, trying to arouse his former devotional feeling, +prostrated himself before the Gates of the Temple. And really, the +feeling of devotion returned to him even more strongly than before. +When he had lain there some time, he was told to get up, and a white +leather apron, such as the others wore, was put on him: he was given a +trowel and three pairs of gloves, and then the Grand Master +addressed him. He told him that he should try to do nothing to stain +the whiteness of that apron, which symbolized strength and purity; +then of the unexplained trowel, he told him to toil with it to cleanse +his own heart from vice, and indulgently to smooth with it the heart +of his neighbor. As to the first pair of gloves, a man's, he said that +Pierre could not know their meaning but must keep them. The second +pair of man's gloves he was to wear at the meetings, and finally of +the third, a pair of women's gloves, he said: "Dear brother, these +woman's gloves are intended for you too. Give them to the woman whom +you shall honor most of all. This gift will be a pledge of your purity +of heart to her whom you select to be your worthy helpmeet in +Masonry." And after a pause, he added: "But beware, dear brother, that +these gloves do not deck hands that are unclean." While the Grand +Master said these last words it seemed to Pierre that he grew +embarrassed. Pierre himself grew still more confused, blushed like a +child till tears came to his eyes, began looking about him uneasily, +and an awkward pause followed. + +This silence was broken by one of the brethren, who led Pierre up to +the rug and began reading to him from a manuscript book an explanation +of all the figures on it: the sun, the moon, a hammer, a plumb line, a +trowel, a rough stone and a squared stone, a pillar, three windows, +and so on. Then a place was assigned to Pierre, he was shown the signs +of the Lodge, told the password, and at last was permitted to sit +down. The Grand Master began reading the statutes. They were very +long, and Pierre, from joy, agitation, and embarrassment, was not in a +state to understand what was being read. He managed to follow only the +last words of the statutes and these remained in his mind. + +"In our temples we recognize no other distinctions," read the +Grand Master, "but those between virtue and vice. Beware of making any +distinctions which may infringe equality. Fly to a brother's aid +whoever he may be, exhort him who goeth astray, raise him that +falleth, never bear malice or enmity toward thy brother. Be kindly and +courteous. Kindle in all hearts the flame of virtue. Share thy +happiness with thy neighbor, and may envy never dim the purity of that +bliss. Forgive thy enemy, do not avenge thyself except by doing him +good. Thus fulfilling the highest law thou shalt regain traces of +the ancient dignity which thou hast lost." + +He finished and, getting up, embraced and kissed Pierre, who, with +tears of joy in his eyes, looked round him, not knowing how to +answer the congratulations and greetings from acquaintances that met +him on all sides. He acknowledged no acquaintances but saw in all +these men only brothers, and burned with impatience to set to work +with them. + +The Grand Master rapped with his mallet. All the Masons sat down +in their places, and one of them read an exhortation on the +necessity of humility. + +The Grand Master proposed that the last duty should be performed, +and the distinguished dignitary who bore the title of "Collector of +Alms" went round to all the brothers. Pierre would have liked to +subscribe all he had, but fearing that it might look like pride +subscribed the same amount as the others. + +The meeting was at an end, and on reaching home Pierre felt as if he +had returned from a long journey on which he had spent dozens of +years, had become completely changed, and had quite left behind his +former habits and way of life. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The day after he had been received into the Lodge, Pierre was +sitting at home reading a book and trying to fathom the significance +of the Square, one side of which symbolized God, another moral things, +a third physical things, and the fourth a combination of these. Now +and then his attention wandered from the book and the Square and he +formed in imagination a new plan of life. On the previous evening at +the Lodge, he had heard that a rumor of his duel had reached the +Emperor and that it would be wiser for him to leave Petersburg. Pierre +proposed going to his estates in the south and there attending to +the welfare of his serfs. He was joyfully planning this new life, when +Prince Vasili suddenly entered the room. + +"My dear fellow, what have you been up to in Moscow? Why have you +quarreled with Helene, mon cher? You are under a delusion," said +Prince Vasili, as he entered. "I know all about it, and I can tell you +positively that Helene is as innocent before you as Christ was +before the Jews." + +Pierre was about to reply, but Prince Vasili interrupted him. + +"And why didn't you simply come straight to me as to a friend? I +know all about it and understand it all," he said. "You behaved as +becomes a man values his honor, perhaps too hastily, but we won't go +into that. But consider the position in which you are placing her +and me in the eyes of society, and even of the court," he added, +lowering his voice. "She is living in Moscow and you are here. +Remember, dear boy," and he drew Pierre's arm downwards, "it is simply +a misunderstanding. I expect you feel it so yourself. Let us write her +a letter at once, and she'll come here and all will be explained, or +else, my dear boy, let me tell you it's quite likely you'll have to +suffer for it." + +Prince Vasili gave Pierre a significant look. + +"I know from reliable sources that the Dowager Empress is taking a +keen interest in the whole affair. You know she is very gracious to +Helene." + +Pierre tried several times to speak, but, on one hand, Prince Vasili +did not let him and, on the other, Pierre himself feared to begin to +speak in the tone of decided refusal and disagreement in which he +had firmly resolved to answer his father-in-law. Moreover, the words +of the Masonic statutes, "be kindly and courteous," recurred to him. +He blinked, went red, got up and sat down again, struggling with +himself to do what was for him the most difficult thing in life--to +say an unpleasant thing to a man's face, to say what the other, +whoever he might be, did not expect. He was so used to submitting to +Prince Vasili's tone of careless self-assurance that he felt he +would be unable to withstand it now, but he also felt that on what +he said now his future depended--whether he would follow the same +old road, or that new path so attractively shown him by the Masons, on +which he firmly believed he would be reborn to a new life. + +"Now, dear boy," said Prince Vasili playfully, "say 'yes,' and +I'll write to her myself, and we will kill the fatted calf." + +But before Prince Vasili had finished his playful speech, Pierre, +without looking at him, and with a kind of fury that made him like his +father, muttered in a whisper: + +"Prince, I did not ask you here. Go, please go!" And he jumped up +and opened the door for him. + +"Go!" he repeated, amazed at himself and glad to see the look of +confusion and fear that showed itself on Prince Vasili's face. + +"What's the matter with you? Are you ill?" + +"Go!" the quivering voice repeated. And Prince Vasili had to go +without receiving any explanation. + +A week later, Pierre, having taken leave of his new friends, the +Masons, and leaving large sums of money with them for alms, went +away to his estates. His new brethren gave him letters to the Kiev and +Odessa Masons and promised to write to him and guide him in his new +activity. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The duel between Pierre and Dolokhov was hushed up and, in spite +of the Emperor's severity regarding duels at that time, neither the +principals nor their seconds suffered for it. But the story of the +duel, confirmed by Pierre's rupture with his wife, was the talk of +society. Pierre who had been regarded with patronizing condescension +when he was an illegitimate son, and petted and extolled when he was +the best match in Russia, had sunk greatly in the esteem of society +after his marriage--when the marriageable daughters and their +mothers had nothing to hope from him--especially as he did not know +how, and did not wish, to court society's favor. Now he alone was +blamed for what had happened, he was said to be insanely jealous and +subject like his father to fits of bloodthirsty rage. And when after +Pierre's departure Helene returned to Petersburg, she was received +by all her acquaintances not only cordially, but even with a shade +of deference due to her misfortune. When conversation turned on her +husband Helene assumed a dignified expression, which with +characteristic tact she had acquired though she did not understand its +significance. This expression suggested that she had resolved to +endure her troubles uncomplainingly and that her husband was a cross +laid upon her by God. Prince Vasili expressed his opinion more openly. +He shrugged his shoulders when Pierre was mentioned and, pointing to +his forehead, remarked: + +"A bit touched--I always said so." + +"I said from the first," declared Anna Pavlovna referring to Pierre, +"I said at the time and before anyone else" (she insisted on her +priority) "that that senseless young man was spoiled by the depraved +ideas of these days. I said so even at the time when everybody was +in raptures about him, when he had just returned from abroad, and +when, if you remember, he posed as a sort of Marat at one of my +soirees. And how has it ended? I was against this marriage even then +and foretold all that has happened." + +Anna Pavlovna continued to give on free evenings the same kind of +soirees as before--such as she alone had the gift of arranging--at +which was to be found "the cream of really good society, the bloom +of the intellectual essence of Petersburg," as she herself put it. +Besides this refined selection of society Anna Pavlovna's receptions +were also distinguished by the fact that she always presented some new +and interesting person to the visitors and that nowhere else was the +state of the political thermometer of legitimate Petersburg court +society so dearly and distinctly indicated. + +Toward the end of 1806, when all the sad details of Napoleon's +destruction of the Prussian army at Jena and Auerstadt and the +surrender of most of the Prussian fortresses had been received, when +our troops had already entered Prussia and our second war with +Napoleon was beginning, Anna Pavlovna gave one of her soirees. The +"cream of really good society" consisted of the fascinating Helene, +forsaken by her husband, Mortemart, the delightful Prince Hippolyte +who had just returned from Vienna, two diplomatists, the old aunt, a +young man referred to in that drawing room as "a man of great merit" +(un homme de beaucoup de merite), a newly appointed maid of honor +and her mother, and several other less noteworthy persons. + +The novelty Anna Pavlovna was setting before her guests that evening +was Boris Drubetskoy, who had just arrived as a special messenger from +the Prussian army and was aide-de-camp to a very important personage. + +The temperature shown by the political thermometer to the company +that evening was this: + +"Whatever the European sovereigns and commanders may do to +countenance Bonaparte, and to cause me, and us in general, annoyance +and mortification, our opinion of Bonaparte cannot alter. We shall not +cease to express our sincere views on that subject, and can only say +to the King Prussia and others: 'So much the worse for you. Tu l'as +voulu, George Dandin,' that's all we have to say about it!" + +When Boris, who was to be served up to the guests, entered the +drawing room, almost all the company had assembled, and the +conversation, guided by Anna Pavlovna, was about our diplomatic +relations with Austria and the hope of an alliance with her. + +Boris, grown more manly and looking fresh, rosy and +self-possessed, entered the drawing room elegantly dressed in the +uniform of an aide-de-camp and was duly conducted to pay his +respects to the aunt and then brought back to the general circle. + +Anna Pavlovna gave him her shriveled hand to kiss and introduced him +to several persons whom he did not know, giving him a whispered +description of each. + +"Prince Hippolyte Kuragin, M. Krug, the charge d'affaires from +Copenhagen--a profound intellect," and simply, "Mr. Shitov--a +man of great merit"--this of the man usually so described. + +Thanks to Anna Mikhaylovna's efforts, his own tastes, and the +peculiarities of his reserved nature, Boris had managed during his +service to place himself very advantageously. He was aide-de-camp to a +very important personage, had been sent on a very important mission to +Prussia, and had just returned from there as a special messenger. He +had become thoroughly conversant with that unwritten code with which +he had been so pleased at Olmutz and according to which an ensign +might rank incomparably higher than a general, and according to +which what was needed for success in the service was not effort or +work, or courage, or perseverance, but only the knowledge of how to +get on with those who can grant rewards, and he was himself often +surprised at the rapidity of his success and at the inability of +others to understand these things. In consequence of this discovery +his whole manner of life, all his relations with old friends, all +his plans for his future, were completely altered. He was not rich, +but would spend his last groat to be better dressed than others, and +would rather deprive himself of many pleasures than allow himself to +be seen in a shabby equipage or appear in the streets of Petersburg in +an old uniform. He made friends with and sought the acquaintance of +only those above him in position and who could therefore be of use +to him. He liked Petersburg and despised Moscow. The remembrance of +the Rostovs' house and of his childish love for Natasha was unpleasant +to him and he had not once been to see the Rostovs since the day of +his departure for the army. To be in Anna Pavlovna's drawing room he +considered an important step up in the service, and he at once +understood his role, letting his hostess make use of whatever interest +he had to offer. He himself carefully scanned each face, appraising +the possibilities of establishing intimacy with each of those present, +and the advantages that might accrue. He took the seat indicated to +him beside the fair Helene and listened to the general conversation. + +"Vienna considers the bases of the proposed treaty so unattainable +that not even a continuity of most brilliant successes would secure +them, and she doubts the means we have of gaining them. That is the +actual phrase used by the Vienna cabinet," said the Danish charge +d'affaires. + +"The doubt is flattering," said "the man of profound intellect," +with a subtle smile. + +"We must distinguish between the Vienna cabinet and the Emperor of +Austria," said Mortemart. "The Emperor of Austria can never have +thought of such a thing, it is only the cabinet that says it." + +"Ah, my dear vicomte," put in Anna Pavlovna, "L'Urope" (for some +reason she called it Urope as if that were a specially refined +French pronunciation which she could allow herself when conversing +with a Frenchman), "L'Urope ne sera jamais notre alliee sincere."* + + +*"Europe will never be our sincere ally." + + +After that Anna Pavlovna led up to the courage and firmness of the +King of Prussia, in order to draw Boris into the conversation. + +Boris listened attentively to each of the speakers, awaiting his +turn, but managed meanwhile to look round repeatedly at his +neighbor, the beautiful Helene, whose eyes several times met those +of the handsome young aide-de-camp with a smile. + +Speaking of the position of Prussia, Anna Pavlovna very naturally +asked Boris to tell them about his journey to Glogau and in what state +he found the Prussian army. Boris, speaking with deliberation, told +them in pure, correct French many interesting details about the armies +and the court, carefully abstaining from expressing an opinion of +his own about the facts he was recounting. For some time he +engrossed the general attention, and Anna Pavlovna felt that the +novelty she had served up was received with pleasure by all her +visitors. The greatest attention of all to Boris' narrative was +shown by Helene. She asked him several questions about his journey and +seemed greatly interested in the state of the Prussian army. As soon +as he had finished she turned to him with her usual smile. + +"You absolutely must come and see me," she said in a tone that +implied that, for certain considerations he could not know of, this +was absolutely necessary. + +"On Tuesday between eight and nine. It will give me great pleasure." + +Boris promised to fulfill her wish and was about to begin a +conversation with her, when Anna Pavlovna called him away on the +pretext that her aunt wished to hear him. + +"You know her husband, of course?" said Anna Pavlovna, closing her +eyes and indicating Helene with a sorrowful gesture. "Ah, she is +such an unfortunate and charming woman! Don't mention him before +her--please don't! It is too painful for her!" + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +When Boris and Anna Pavlovna returned to the others Prince Hippolyte +had the ear of the company. + +Bending forward in his armchair he said: "Le Roi de Prusse!" and +having said this laughed. Everyone turned toward him. + +"Le Roi de Prusse?" Hippolyte said interrogatively, again +laughing, and then calmly and seriously sat back in his chair. Anna +Pavlovna waited for him to go on, but as he seemed quite decided to +say no more she began to tell of how at Potsdam the impious +Bonaparte had stolen the sword of Frederick the Great. + +"It is the sword of Frederick the Great which I..." she began, but +Hippolyte interrupted her with the words: "Le Roi de Prusse..." and +again, as soon as all turned toward him, excused himself and +said no more. + +Anna Pavlovna frowned. Mortemart, Hippolyte's friend, addressed +him firmly. + +"Come now, what about your Roi de Prusse?" + +Hippolyte laughed as if ashamed of laughing. + +"Oh, it's nothing. I only wished to say..." (he wanted to repeat a +joke he had heard in Vienna and which he had been trying all that +evening to get in) "I only wished to say that we are wrong to fight +pour le Roi de Prusse!" + +Boris smiled circumspectly, so that it might be taken as ironical or +appreciative according to the way the joke was received. Everybody +laughed. + +"Your joke is too bad, it's witty but unjust," said Anna Pavlovna, +shaking her little shriveled finger at him. + +"We are not fighting pour le Roi de Prusse, but for right +principles. Oh, that wicked Prince Hippolyte!" she said. + +The conversation did not flag all evening and turned chiefly on +the political news. It became particularly animated toward the end +of the evening when the rewards bestowed by the Emperor were +mentioned. + +"You know N--N--received a snuffbox with the portrait last year?" +said "the man of profound intellect." "Why shouldn't S--S--get the +same distinction?" + +"Pardon me! A snuffbox with the Emperor's portrait is a reward but +not a distinction," said the diplomatist--"a gift, rather." + +"There are precedents, I may mention Schwarzenberg." + +"It's impossible," replied another. + +"Will you bet? The ribbon of the order is a different matter...." + +When everybody rose to go, Helene who had spoken very little all the +evening again turned to Boris, asking him in a tone of caressing +significant command to come to her on Tuesday. + +"It is of great importance to me," she said, turning with a smile +toward Anna Pavlovna, and Anna Pavlovna, with the same sad smile +with which she spoke of her exalted patroness, supported Helene's +wish. + +It seemed as if from some words Boris had spoken that evening +about the Prussian army, Helene had suddenly found it necessary to see +him. She seemed to promise to explain that necessity to him when he +came on Tuesday. + +But on Tuesday evening, having come to Helene's splendid salon, +Boris received no clear explanation of why it had been necessary for +him to come. There were other guests and the countess talked little to +him, and only as he kissed her hand on taking leave said +unexpectedly and in a whisper, with a strangely unsmiling face: +"Come to dinner tomorrow... in the evening. You must come.... Come!" + +During that stay in Petersburg, Boris became an intimate in the +countess' house. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The war was flaming up and nearing the Russian frontier. +Everywhere one heard curses on Bonaparte, "the enemy of mankind." +Militiamen and recruits were being enrolled in the villages, and +from the seat of war came contradictory news, false as usual and +therefore variously interpreted. The life of old Prince Bolkonski, +Prince Andrew, and Princess Mary had greatly changed since 1805. + +In 1806 the old prince was made one of the eight commanders in chief +then appointed to supervise the enrollment decreed throughout +Russia. Despite the weakness of age, which had become particularly +noticeable since the time when he thought his son had been killed, +he did not think it right to refuse a duty to which he had been +appointed by the Emperor himself, and this fresh opportunity for +action gave him new energy and strength. He was continually +traveling through the three provinces entrusted to him, was pedantic +in the fulfillment of his duties, severe to cruelty with his +subordinates, and went into everything down to the minutest details +himself. Princess Mary had ceased taking lessons in mathematics from +her father, and when the old prince was at home went to his study with +the wet nurse and little Prince Nicholas (as his grandfather called +him). The baby Prince Nicholas lived with his wet nurse and nurse +Savishna in the late princess' rooms and Princess Mary spent most of +the day in the nursery, taking a mother's place to her little nephew +as best she could. Mademoiselle Bourienne, too, seemed passionately +fond of the boy, and Princess Mary often deprived herself to give +her friend the pleasure of dandling the little angel--as she called +her nephew--and playing with him. + +Near the altar of the church at Bald Hills there was a chapel over +the tomb of the little princess, and in this chapel was a marble +monument brought from Italy, representing an angel with outspread +wings ready to fly upwards. The angel's upper lip was slightly +raised as though about to smile, and once on coming out of the +chapel Prince Andrew and Princess Mary admitted to one another that +the angel's face reminded them strangely of the little princess. But +what was still stranger, though of this Prince Andrew said nothing +to his sister, was that in the expression the sculptor had happened to +give the angel's face, Prince Andrew read the same mild reproach he +had read on the face of his dead wife: "Ah, why have you done this +to me?" + +Soon after Prince Andrew's return the old prince made over to him +a large estate, Bogucharovo, about twenty-five miles from Bald +Hills. Partly because of the depressing memories associated with +Bald Hills, partly because Prince Andrew did not always feel equal +to bearing with his father's peculiarities, and partly because he +needed solitude, Prince Andrew made use of Bogucharovo, began building +and spent most of his time there. + +After the Austerlitz campaign Prince Andrew had firmly resolved +not to continue his military service, and when the war recommenced and +everybody had to serve, he took a post under his father in the +recruitment so as to avoid active service. The old prince and his +son seemed to have changed roles since the campaign of 1805. The old +man, roused by activity, expected the best results from the new +campaign, while Prince Andrew on the contrary, taking no part in the +war and secretly regretting this, saw only the dark side. + +On February 26, 1807, the old prince set off on one of his circuits. +Prince Andrew remained at Bald Hills as usual during his father's +absence. Little Nicholas had been unwell for four days. The coachman +who had driven the old prince to town returned bringing papers and +letters for Prince Andrew. + +Not finding the young prince in his study the valet went with the +letters to Princess Mary's apartments, but did not find him there. +He was told that the prince had gone to the nursery. + +"If you please, your excellency, Petrusha has brought some +papers," said one of the nursemaids to Prince Andrew who was sitting +on a child's little chair while, frowning and with trembling hands, he +poured drops from a medicine bottle into a wineglass half full of +water. + +"What is it?" he said crossly, and, his hand shaking +unintentionally, he poured too many drops into the glass. He threw the +mixture onto the floor and asked for some more water. The maid brought +it. + +There were in the room a child's cot, two boxes, two armchairs, a +table, a child's table, and the little chair on which Prince Andrew +was sitting. The curtains were drawn, and a single candle was +burning on the table, screened by a bound music book so that the light +did not fall on the cot. + +"My dear," said Princess Mary, addressing her brother from beside +the cot where she was standing, "better wait a bit... later..." + +"Oh, leave off, you always talk nonsense and keep putting things +off--and this is what comes of it!" said Prince Andrew in an +exasperated whisper, evidently meaning to wound his sister. + +"My dear, really... it's better not to wake him... he's asleep," +said the princess in a tone of entreaty. + +Prince Andrew got up and went on tiptoe up to the little bed, +wineglass in hand. + +"Perhaps we'd really better not wake him," he said hesitating. + +"As you please... really... I think so... but as you please," said +Princess Mary, evidently intimidated and confused that her opinion had +prevailed. She drew her brother's attention to the maid who was +calling him in a whisper. + +It was the second night that neither of them had slept, watching the +boy who was in a high fever. These last days, mistrusting their +household doctor and expecting another for whom they had sent to town, +they had been trying first one remedy and then another. Worn out by +sleeplessness and anxiety they threw their burden of sorrow on one +another and reproached and disputed with each other. + +"Petrusha has come with papers from your father," whispered the +maid. + +Prince Andrew went out. + +"Devil take them!" he muttered, and after listening to the verbal +instructions his father had sent and taking the correspondence and his +father's letter, he returned to the nursery. + +"Well?" he asked. + +"Still the same. Wait, for heaven's sake. Karl Ivanich always says +that sleep is more important than anything," whispered Princess Mary +with a sigh. + +Prince Andrew went up to the child and felt him. He was burning hot. + +"Confound you and your Karl Ivanich!" He took the glass with the +drops and again went up to the cot. + +"Andrew, don't!" said Princess Mary. + +But he scowled at her angrily though also with suffering in his +eyes, and stooped glass in hand over the infant. + +"But I wish it," he said. "I beg you--give it him!" + +Princess Mary shrugged her shoulders but took the glass submissively +and calling the nurse began giving the medicine. The child screamed +hoarsely. Prince Andrew winced and, clutching his head, went out and +sat down on a sofa in the next room. + +He still had all the letters in his hand. Opening them +mechanically he began reading. The old prince, now and then using +abbreviations, wrote in his large elongated hand on blue paper as +follows: + + +Have just this moment received by special messenger very joyful +news--if it's not false. Bennigsen seems to have obtained a complete +victory over Buonaparte at Eylau. In Petersburg everyone is rejoicing, +and the rewards sent to the army are innumerable. Though he is a +German--I congratulate him! I can't make out what the commander at +Korchevo--a certain Khandrikov--is up to; till now the additional +men and provisions have not arrived. Gallop off to him at once and say +I'll have his head off if everything is not here in a week. Have +received another letter about the Preussisch-Eylau battle from +Petenka--he took part in it--and it's all true. When mischief-makers +don't meddle even a German beats Buonaparte. He is said to be +fleeing in great disorder. Mind you gallop off to Korchevo without +delay and carry out instructions! + + +Prince Andrew sighed and broke the seal of another envelope. It +was a closely written letter of two sheets from Bilibin. He folded +it up without reading it and reread his father's letter, ending with +the words: "Gallop off to Korchevo and carry out instructions!" + +"No, pardon me, I won't go now till the child is better," thought +he, going to the door and looking into the nursery. + +Princess Mary was still standing by the cot, gently rocking the +baby. + +"Ah yes, and what else did he say that's unpleasant?" thought Prince +Andrew, recalling his father's letter. "Yes, we have gained a +victory over Bonaparte, just when I'm not serving. Yes, yes, he's +always poking fun at me.... Ah, well! Let him!" And he began reading +Bilibin's letter which was written in French. He read without +understanding half of it, read only to forget, if but for a moment, +what he had too long been thinking of so painfully to the exclusion of +all else. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Bilibin was now at army headquarters in a diplomatic capacity, and +though he wrote in French and used French jests and French idioms, +he described the whole campaign with a fearless self-censure and +self-derision genuinely Russian. Bilibin wrote that the obligation +of diplomatic discretion tormented him, and he was happy to have in +Prince Andrew a reliable correspondent to whom he could pour out the +bile he had accumulated at the sight of all that was being done in the +army. The letter was old, having been written before the battle at +Preussisch-Eylau. + +"Since the day of our brilliant success at Austerlitz," wrote +Bilibin, "as you know, my dear prince, I never leave headquarters. I +have certainly acquired a taste for war, and it is just as well for +me; what I have seen during these last three months is incredible. + +"I begin ab ovo. 'The enemy of the human race,' as you know, attacks +the Prussians. The Prussians are our faithful allies who have only +betrayed us three times in three years. We take up their cause, but it +turns out that 'the enemy of the human race' pays no heed to our +fine speeches and in his rude and savage way throws himself on the +Prussians without giving them time to finish the parade they had +begun, and in two twists of the hand he breaks them to smithereens and +installs himself in the palace at Potsdam. + +"'I most ardently desire,' writes the King of Prussia to +Bonaparte, 'that Your Majesty should be received and treated in my +palace in a manner agreeable to yourself, and in so far as +circumstances allowed, I have hastened to take all steps to that +end. May I have succeeded!' The Prussian generals pride themselves +on being polite to the French and lay down their arms at the first +demand. + +"The head of the garrison at Glogau, with ten thousand men, asks the +King of Prussia what he is to do if he is summoned to surrender.... +All this is absolutely true. + +"In short, hoping to settle matters by taking up a warlike attitude, +it turns out that we have landed ourselves in war, and what is more, +in war on our own frontiers, with and for the King of Prussia. We have +everything in perfect order, only one little thing is lacking, namely, +a commander in chief. As it was considered that the Austerlitz success +might have been more decisive had the commander in chief not been so +young, all our octogenarians were reviewed, and of Prozorovski and +Kamenski the latter was preferred. The general comes to us, +Suvorov-like, in a kibitka, and is received with acclamations of joy +and triumph. + +"On the 4th, the first courier arrives from Petersburg. The mails +are taken to the field marshal's room, for he likes to do everything +himself. I am called in to help sort the letters and take those +meant for us. The field marshal looks on and waits for letters +addressed to him. We search, but none are to be found. The field +marshal grows impatient and sets to work himself and finds letters +from the Emperor to Count T., Prince V., and others. Then he bursts +into one of his wild furies and rages at everyone and everything, +seizes the letters, opens them, and reads those from the Emperor +addressed to others. 'Ah! So that's the way they treat me! No +confidence in me! Ah, ordered to keep an eye on me! Very well then! +Get along with you!' So he writes the famous order of the day to +General Bennigsen: + +'I am wounded and cannot ride and consequently cannot command the +army. You have brought your army corps to Pultusk, routed: here it +is exposed, and without fuel or forage, so something must be done, +and, as you yourself reported to Count Buxhowden yesterday, you must +think of retreating to our frontier--which do today.' + +"'From all my riding,' he writes to the Emperor, 'I have got a +saddle sore which, coming after all my previous journeys, quite +prevents my riding and commanding so vast an army, so I have passed on +the command to the general next in seniority, Count Buxhowden, +having sent him my whole staff and all that belongs to it, advising +him if there is a lack of bread, to move farther into the interior +of Prussia, for only one day's ration of bread remains, and in some +regiments none at all, as reported by the division commanders, +Ostermann and Sedmoretzki, and all that the peasants had has been +eaten up. I myself will remain in hospital at Ostrolenka till I +recover. In regard to which I humbly submit my report, with the +information that if the army remains in its present bivouac another +fortnight there will not be a healthy man left in it by spring. + +"'Grant leave to retire to his country seat to an old man who is +already in any case dishonored by being unable to fulfill the great +and glorious task for which he was chosen. I shall await your most +gracious permission here in hospital, that I may not have to play +the part of a secretary rather than commander in the army. My +removal from the army does not produce the slightest stir--a blind man +has left it. There are thousands such as I in Russia.' + +"The field marshal is angry with the Emperor and he punishes us all, +isn't it logical? + +"This is the first act. Those that follow are naturally increasingly +interesting and entertaining. After the field marshal's departure it +appears that we are within sight of the enemy and must give battle. +Buxhowden is commander in chief by seniority, but General Bennigsen +does not quite see it; more particularly as it is he and his corps who +are within sight of the enemy and he wishes to profit by the +opportunity to fight a battle 'on his own hand' as the Germans say. He +does so. This is the battle of Pultusk, which is considered a great +victory but in my opinion was nothing of the kind. We civilians, as +you know, have a very bad way of deciding whether a battle was won +or lost. Those who retreat after a battle have lost it is what we say; +and according to that it is we who lost the battle of Pultusk. In +short, we retreat after the battle but send a courier to Petersburg +with news of a victory, and General Bennigsen, hoping to receive +from Petersburg the post of commander in chief as a reward for his +victory, does not give up the command of the army to General +Buxhowden. During this interregnum we begin a very original and +interesting series of maneuvers. Our aim is no longer, as it should +be, to avoid or attack the enemy, but solely to avoid General +Buxhowden who by right of seniority should be our chief. So +energetically do we pursue this aim that after crossing an +unfordable river we burn the bridges to separate ourselves from our +enemy, who at the moment is not Bonaparte but Buxhowden. General +Buxhowden was all but attacked and captured by a superior enemy +force as a result of one of these maneuvers that enabled us to +escape him. Buxhowden pursues us--we scuttle. He hardly crosses the +river to our side before we recross to the other. At last our enemy. +Buxhowden, catches us and attacks. Both generals are angry, and the +result is a challenge on Buxhowden's part and an epileptic fit on +Bennigsen's. But at the critical moment the courier who carried the +news of our victory at Pultusk to Petersburg returns bringing our +appointment as commander in chief, and our first foe, Buxhowden, is +vanquished; we can now turn our thoughts to the second, Bonaparte. But +as it turns out, just at that moment a third enemy rises before us- +namely the Orthodox Russian soldiers, loudly demanding bread, meat, +biscuits, fodder, and whatnot! The stores are empty, the roads +impassable. The Orthodox begin looting, and in a way of which our last +campaign can give you no idea. Half the regiments form bands and scour +the countryside and put everything to fire and sword. The +inhabitants are totally ruined, the hospitals overflow with sick, +and famine is everywhere. Twice the marauders even attack our +headquarters, and the commander in chief has to ask for a battalion to +disperse them. During one of these attacks they carried off my empty +portmanteau and my dressing gown. The Emperor proposes to give all +commanders of divisions the right to shoot marauders, but I much +fear this will oblige one half the army to shoot the other." + +At first Prince Andrew read with his eyes only, but after a while, +in spite of himself (although he knew how far it was safe to trust +Bilibin), what he had read began to interest him more and more. When +he had read thus far, he crumpled the letter up and threw it away. +It was not what he had read that vexed him, but the fact that the life +out there in which he had now no part could perturb him. He shut his +eyes, rubbed his forehead as if to rid himself of all interest in what +he had read, and listened to what was passing in the nursery. Suddenly +he thought he heard a strange noise through the door. He was seized +with alarm lest something should have happened to the child while he +was reading the letter. He went on tiptoe to the nursery door and +opened it. + +Just as he went in he saw that the nurse was hiding something from +him with a scared look and that Princess Mary was no longer by the +cot. + +"My dear," he heard what seemed to him her despairing whisper behind +him. + +As often happens after long sleeplessness and long anxiety, he was +seized by an unreasoning panic--it occurred to him that the child +was dead. All that he saw and heard seemed to confirm this terror. + +"All is over," he thought, and a cold sweat broke out on his +forehead. He went to the cot in confusion, sure that he would find +it empty and that the nurse had been hiding the dead baby. He drew the +curtain aside and for some time his frightened, restless eyes could +not find the baby. At last he saw him: the rosy boy had tossed about +till he lay across the bed with his head lower than the pillow, and +was smacking his lips in his sleep and breathing evenly. + +Prince Andrew was as glad to find the boy like that, as if he had +already lost him. He bent over him and, as his sister had taught +him, tried with his lips whether the child was still feverish. The +soft forehead was moist. Prince Andrew touched the head with his hand; +even the hair was wet, so profusely had the child perspired. He was +not dead, but evidently the crisis was over and he was convalescent. +Prince Andrew longed to snatch up, to squeeze, to hold to his heart, +this helpless little creature, but dared not do so. He stood over him, +gazing at his head and at the little arms and legs which showed +under the blanket. He heard a rustle behind him and a shadow +appeared under the curtain of the cot. He did not look round, but +still gazing at the infant's face listened to his regular breathing. +The dark shadow was Princess Mary, who had come up to the cot with +noiseless steps, lifted the curtain, and dropped it again behind +her. Prince Andrew recognized her without looking and held out his +hand to her. She pressed it. + +"He has perspired," said Prince Andrew. + +"I was coming to tell you so." + +The child moved slightly in his sleep, smiled, and rubbed his +forehead against the pillow. + +Prince Andrew looked at his sister. In the dim shadow of the curtain +her luminous eyes shone more brightly than usual from the tears of joy +that were in them. She leaned over to her brother and kissed him, +slightly catching the curtain of the cot. Each made the other a +warning gesture and stood still in the dim light beneath the curtain +as if not wishing to leave that seclusion where they three were shut +off from all the world. Prince Andrew was the first to move away, +ruffling his hair against the muslin of the curtain. + +"Yes, this is the one thing left me now," he said with a sigh. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Soon after his admission to the Masonic Brotherhood, Pierre went +to the Kiev province, where he had the greatest number of serfs, +taking with him full directions which he had written down for his +own guidance as to what he should do on his estates. + +When he reached Kiev he sent for all his stewards to the head office +and explained to them his intentions and wishes. He told them that +steps would be taken immediately to free his serfs--and that till then +they were not to be overburdened with labor, women while nursing their +babies were not to be sent to work, assistance was to be given to +the serfs, punishments were to be admonitory and not corporal, and +hospitals, asylums, and schools were to be established on all the +estates. Some of the stewards (there were semiliterate foremen among +them) listened with alarm, supposing these words to mean that the +young count was displeased with their management and embezzlement of +money, some after their first fright were amused by Pierre's lisp +and the new words they had not heard before, others simply enjoyed +hearing how the master talked, while the cleverest among them, +including the chief steward, understood from this speech how they +could best handle the master for their own ends. + +The chief steward expressed great sympathy with Pierre's intentions, +but remarked that besides these changes it would be necessary to go +into the general state of affairs which was far from satisfactory. + +Despite Count Bezukhov's enormous wealth, since he had come into +an income which was said to amount to five hundred thousand rubles a +year, Pierre felt himself far poorer than when his father had made him +an allowance of ten thousand rubles. He had a dim perception of the +following budget: + +About 80,000 went in payments on all the estates to the Land Bank, +about 30,000 went for the upkeep of the estate near Moscow, the town +house, and the allowance to the three princesses; about 15,000 was +given in pensions and the same amount for asylums; 150,000 alimony was +sent to the countess; about 70,00 went for interest on debts. The +building of a new church, previously begun, had cost about 10,000 in +each of the last two years, and he did not know how the rest, about +100,000 rubles, was spent, and almost every year he was obliged to +borrow. Besides this the chief steward wrote every year telling him of +fires and bad harvests, or of the necessity of rebuilding factories +and workshops. So the first task Pierre had to face was one for +which he had very little aptitude or inclination--practical business. + +He discussed estate affairs every day with his chief steward. But he +felt that this did not forward matters at all. He felt that these +consultations were detached from real affairs and did not link up with +them or make them move. On the one hand, the chief steward put the +state of things to him in the very worst light, pointing out the +necessity of paying off the debts and undertaking new activities +with serf labor, to which Pierre did not agree. On the other hand, +Pierre demanded that steps should be taken to liberate the serfs, +which the steward met by showing the necessity of first paying off the +loans from the Land Bank, and the consequent impossibility of a speedy +emancipation. + +The steward did not say it was quite impossible, but suggested +selling the forests in the province of Kostroma, the land lower down +the river, and the Crimean estate, in order to make it possible: all +of which operations according to him were connected with such +complicated measures--the removal of injunctions, petitions, +permits, and so on--that Pierre became quite bewildered and only +replied: + +"Yes, yes, do so." + +Pierre had none of the practical persistence that would have enabled +him to attend to the business himself and so he disliked it and only +tried to pretend to the steward that he was attending to it. The +steward for his part tried to pretend to the count that he +considered these consultations very valuable for the proprietor and +troublesome to himself. + +In Kiev Pierre found some people he knew, and strangers hastened +to make his acquaintance and joyfully welcomed the rich newcomer, +the largest landowner of the province. Temptations to Pierre's +greatest weakness--the one to which he had confessed when admitted +to the Lodge--were so strong that he could not resist them. Again +whole days, weeks, and months of his life passed in as great a rush +and were as much occupied with evening parties, dinners, lunches, +and balls, giving him no time for reflection, as in Petersburg. +Instead of the new life he had hoped to lead he still lived the old +life, only in new surroundings. + +Of the three precepts of Freemasonry Pierre realized that he did not +fulfill the one which enjoined every Mason to set an example of +moral life, and that of the seven virtues he lacked two--morality +and the love of death. He consoled himself with the thought that he +fulfilled another of the precepts--that of reforming the human race- +and had other virtues--love of his neighbor, and especially +generosity. + +In the spring of 1807 he decided to return to Petersburg. On the way +he intended to visit all his estates and see for himself how far his +orders had been carried out and in what state were the serfs whom +God had entrusted to his care and whom he intended to benefit. + +The chief steward, who considered the young count's attempts +almost insane--unprofitable to himself, to the count, and to the +serfs--made some concessions. Continuing to represent the liberation +of the serfs as impracticable, he arranged for the erection of large +buildings--schools, hospitals, and asylums--on all the estates +before the master arrived. Everywhere preparations were made not for +ceremonious welcomes (which he knew Pierre would not like), but for +just such gratefully religious ones, with offerings of icons and the +bread and salt of hospitality, as, according to his understanding of +his master, would touch and delude him. + +The southern spring, the comfortable rapid traveling in a Vienna +carriage, and the solitude of the road, all had a gladdening effect on +Pierre. The estates he had not before visited were each more +picturesque than the other; the serfs everywhere seemed thriving and +touchingly grateful for the benefits conferred on them. Everywhere +were receptions, which though they embarrassed Pierre awakened a +joyful feeling in the depth of his heart. In one place the peasants +presented him with bread and salt and an icon of Saint Peter and Saint +Paul, asking permission, as a mark of their gratitude for the benefits +he had conferred on them, to build a new chantry to the church at +their own expense in honor of Peter and Paul, his patron saints. In +another place the women with infants in arms met him to thank him +for releasing them from hard work. On a third estate the priest, +bearing a cross, came to meet him surrounded by children whom, by +the count's generosity, he was instructing in reading, writing, and +religion. On all his estates Pierre saw with his own eyes brick +buildings erected or in course of erection, all on one plan, for +hospitals, schools, and almshouses, which were soon to be opened. +Everywhere he saw the stewards' accounts, according to which the +serfs' manorial labor had been diminished, and heard the touching +thanks of deputations of serfs in their full-skirted blue coats. + +What Pierre did not know was that the place where they presented him +with bread and salt and wished to build a chantry in honor of Peter +and Paul was a market village where a fair was held on St. Peter's +day, and that the richest peasants (who formed the deputation) had +begun the chantry long before, but that nine tenths of the peasants in +that villages were in a state of the greatest poverty. He did not know +that since the nursing mothers were no longer sent to work on his +land, they did still harder work on their own land. He did not know +that the priest who met him with the cross oppressed the peasants by +his exactions, and that the pupils' parents wept at having to let +him take their children and secured their release by heavy payments. +He did not know that the brick buildings, built to plan, were being +built by serfs whose manorial labor was thus increased, though +lessened on paper. He did not know that where the steward had shown +him in the accounts that the serfs' payments had been diminished by +a third, their obligatory manorial work had been increased by a +half. And so Pierre was delighted with his visit to his estates and +quite recovered the philanthropic mood in which he had left +Petersburg, and wrote enthusiastic letters to his "brother-instructor" +as he called the Grand Master. + +"How easy it is, how little effort it needs, to do so much good," +thought Pierre, "and how little attention we pay to it!" + +He was pleased at the gratitude he received, but felt abashed at +receiving it. This gratitude reminded him of how much more he might do +for these simple, kindly people. + +The chief steward, a very stupid but cunning man who saw perfectly +through the naive and intelligent count and played with him as with +a toy, seeing the effect these prearranged receptions had on Pierre, +pressed him still harder with proofs of the impossibility and above +all the uselessness of freeing the serfs, who were quite happy as it +was. + +Pierre in his secret soul agreed with the steward that it would be +difficult to imagine happier people, and that God only knew what would +happen to them when they were free, but he insisted, though +reluctantly, on what he thought right. The steward promised to do +all in his power to carry out the count's wishes, seeing clearly +that not only would the count never be able to find out whether all +measures had been taken for the sale of the land and forests and to +release them from the Land Bank, but would probably never even inquire +and would never know that the newly erected buildings were standing +empty and that the serfs continued to give in money and work all +that other people's serfs gave--that is to say, all that could be +got out of them. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Returning from his journey through South Russia in the happiest +state of mind, Pierre carried out an intention he had long had of +visiting his friend Bolkonski, whom he had not seen for two years. + +Bogucharovo lay in a flat uninteresting part of the country among +fields and forests of fir and birch, which were partly cut down. The +house lay behind a newly dug pond filled with water to the brink and +with banks still bare of grass. It was at the end of a village that +stretched along the highroad in the midst of a young copse in which +were a few fir trees. + +The homestead consisted of a threshing floor, outhouses, stables, +a bathhouse, a lodge, and a large brick house with semicircular facade +still in course of construction. Round the house was a garden newly +laid out. The fences and gates were new and solid; two fire pumps +and a water cart, painted green, stood in a shed; the paths were +straight, the bridges were strong and had handrails. Everything bore +an impress of tidiness and good management. Some domestic serfs Pierre +met, in reply to inquiries as to where the prince lived, pointed out a +small newly built lodge close to the pond. Anton, a man who had looked +after Prince Andrew in his boyhood, helped Pierre out of his carriage, +said that the prince was at home, and showed him into a clean little +anteroom. + +Pierre was struck by the modesty of the small though clean house +after the brilliant surroundings in which he had last met his friend +in Petersburg. + +He quickly entered the small reception room with its +still-unplastered wooden walls redolent of pine, and would have gone +farther, but Anton ran ahead on tiptoe and knocked at a door. + +"Well, what is it?" came a sharp, unpleasant voice. + +"A visitor," answered Anton. + +"Ask him to wait," and the sound was heard of a chair being pushed +back. + +Pierre went with rapid steps to the door and suddenly came face to +face with Prince Andrew, who came out frowning and looking old. Pierre +embraced him and lifting his spectacles kissed his friend on the cheek +and looked at him closely. + +"Well, I did not expect you, I am very glad," said Prince Andrew. + +Pierre said nothing; he looked fixedly at his friend with +surprise. He was struck by the change in him. His words were kindly +and there was a smile on his lips and face, but his eyes were dull and +lifeless and in spite of his evident wish to do so he could not give +them a joyous and glad sparkle. Prince Andrew had grown thinner, +paler, and more manly-looking, but what amazed and estranged Pierre +till he got used to it were his inertia and a wrinkle on his brow +indicating prolonged concentration on some one thought. + +As is usually the case with people meeting after a prolonged +separation, it was long before their conversation could settle on +anything. They put questions and gave brief replies about things +they knew ought to be talked over at length. At last the +conversation gradually settled on some of the topics at first +lightly touched on: their past life, plans for the future, Pierre's +journeys and occupations, the war, and so on. The preoccupation and +despondency which Pierre had noticed in his friend's look was now +still more clearly expressed in the smile with which he listened to +Pierre, especially when he spoke with joyful animation of the past +or the future. It was as if Prince Andrew would have liked to +sympathize with what Pierre was saying, but could not. The latter +began to feel that it was in bad taste to speak of his enthusiasms, +dreams, and hopes of happiness or goodness, in Prince Andrew's +presence. He was ashamed to express his new Masonic views, which had +been particularly revived and strengthened by his late tour. He +checked himself, fearing to seem naive, yet he felt an irresistible +desire to show his friend as soon as possible that he was now a +quite different, and better, Pierre than he had been in Petersburg. + +"I can't tell you how much I have lived through since then. I hardly +know myself again." + +"Yes, we have altered much, very much, since then," said Prince +Andrew. + +"Well, and you? What are your plans?" + +"Plans!" repeated Prince Andrew ironically. "My plans?" he said, +as if astonished at the word. "Well, you see, I'm building. I mean +to settle here altogether next year...." + +Pierre looked silently and searchingly into Prince Andrew's face, +which had grown much older. + +"No, I meant to ask..." Pierre began, but Prince Andrew +interrupted him. + +"But why talk of me?... Talk to me, yes, tell me about your +travels and all you have been doing on your estates." + +Pierre began describing what he had done on his estates, trying as +far as possible to conceal his own part in the improvements that had +been made. Prince Andrew several times prompted Pierre's story of what +he had been doing, as though it were all an old-time story, and he +listened not only without interest but even as if ashamed of what +Pierre was telling him. + +Pierre felt uncomfortable and even depressed in his friend's company +and at last became silent. + +"I'll tell you what, my dear fellow," said Prince Andrew, who +evidently also felt depressed and constrained with his visitor, "I +am only bivouacking here and have just come to look round. I am +going back to my sister today. I will introduce you to her. But of +course you know her already," he said, evidently trying to entertain a +visitor with whom he now found nothing in common. "We will go after +dinner. And would you now like to look round my place?" + +They went out and walked about till dinnertime, talking of the +political news and common acquaintances like people who do not know +each other intimately. Prince Andrew spoke with some animation and +interest only of the new homestead he was constructing and its +buildings, but even here, while on the scaffolding, in the midst of +a talk explaining the future arrangements of the house, he interrupted +himself: + +"However, this is not at all interesting. Let us have dinner, and +then we'll set off." + +At dinner, conversation turned on Pierre's marriage. + +"I was very much surprised when I heard of it," said Prince Andrew. + +Pierre blushed, as he always did when it was mentioned, and said +hurriedly: "I will tell you some time how it all happened. But you +know it is all over, and forever." + +"Forever?" said Prince Andrew. "Nothing's forever." + +"But you know how it all ended, don't you? You heard of the duel?" + +"And so you had to go through that too!" + +"One thing I thank God for is that I did not kill that man," said +Pierre. + +"Why so?" asked Prince Andrew. "To kill a vicious dog is a very good +thing really." + +"No, to kill a man is bad--wrong." + +"Why is it wrong?" urged Prince Andrew. "It is not given to man to +know what is right and what is wrong. Men always did and always will +err, and in nothing more than in what they consider right and wrong." + +"What does harm to another is wrong," said Pierre, feeling with +pleasure that for the first time since his arrival Prince Andrew was +roused, had begun to talk, and wanted to express what had brought +him to his present state. + +"And who has told you what is bad for another man?" he asked. + +"Bad! Bad!" exclaimed Pierre. "We all know what is bad for +ourselves." + +"Yes, we know that, but the harm I am conscious of in myself is +something I cannot inflict on others," said Prince Andrew, growing +more and more animated and evidently wishing to express his new +outlook to Pierre. He spoke in French. "I only know two very real +evils in life: remorse and illness. The only good is the absence of +those evils. To live for myself avoiding those two evils is my whole +philosophy now." + +"And love of one's neighbor, and self-sacrifice?" began Pierre. "No, +I can't agree with you! To live only so as not to do evil and not to +have to repent is not enough. I lived like that, I lived for myself +and ruined my life. And only now when I am living, or at least trying" +(Pierre's modesty made him correct himself) "to live for others, +only now have I understood all the happiness of life. No, I shall +not agree with you, and you do not really believe what you are +saying." Prince Andrew looked silently at Pierre with an ironic smile. + +"When you see my sister, Princess Mary, you'll get on with her," +he said. "Perhaps you are right for yourself," he added after a +short pause, "but everyone lives in his own way. You lived for +yourself and say you nearly ruined your life and only found +happiness when you began living for others. I experienced just the +reverse. I lived for glory.--And after all what is glory? The same +love of others, a desire to do something for them, a desire for +their approval.--So I lived for others, and not almost, but quite, +ruined my life. And I have become calmer since I began to live only +for myself." + +"But what do you mean by living only for yourself?" asked Pierre, +growing excited. "What about your son, your sister, and your father?" + +"But that's just the same as myself--they are not others," explained +Prince Andrew. "The others, one's neighbors, le prochain, as you and +Princess Mary call it, are the chief source of all error and evil. +Le prochain--your Kiev peasants to whom you want to do good." + +And he looked at Pierre with a mocking, challenging expression. He +evidently wished to draw him on. + +"You are joking," replied Pierre, growing more and more excited. +"What error or evil can there be in my wishing to do good, and even +doing a little--though I did very little and did it very badly? What +evil can there be in it if unfortunate people, our serfs, people +like ourselves, were growing up and dying with no idea of God and +truth beyond ceremonies and meaningless prayers and are now instructed +in a comforting belief in future life, retribution, recompense, and +consolation? What evil and error are there in it, if people were dying +of disease without help while material assistance could so easily be +rendered, and I supplied them with a doctor, a hospital, and an asylum +for the aged? And is it not a palpable, unquestionable good if a +peasant, or a woman with a baby, has no rest day or night and I give +them rest and leisure?" said Pierre, hurrying and lisping. "And I have +done that though badly and to a small extent; but I have done +something toward it and you cannot persuade me that it was not a +good action, and more than that, you can't make me believe that you do +not think so yourself. And the main thing is," he continued, "that I +know, and know for certain, that the enjoyment of doing this good is +the only sure happiness in life." + +"Yes, if you put it like that it's quite a different matter," said +Prince Andrew. "I build a house and lay out a garden, and you build +hospitals. The one and the other may serve as a pastime. But what's +right and what's good must be judged by one who knows all, but not +by us. Well, you want an argument," he added, "come on then." + +They rose from the table and sat down in the entrance porch which +served as a veranda. + +"Come, let's argue then," said Prince Andrew, "You talk of schools," +he went on, crooking a finger, "education and so forth; that is, you +want to raise him" (pointing to a peasant who passed by them taking +off his cap) "from his animal condition and awaken in him spiritual +needs, while it seems to me that animal happiness is the only +happiness possible, and that is just what you want to deprive him +of. I envy him, but you want to make him what I am, without giving him +my means. Then you say, 'lighten his toil.' But as I see it, +physical labor is as essential to him, as much a condition of his +existence, as mental activity is to you or me. You can't help +thinking. I go to bed after two in the morning, thoughts come and I +can't sleep but toss about till dawn, because I think and can't help +thinking, just as he can't help plowing and mowing; if he didn't, he +would go to the drink shop or fall ill. Just as I could not stand +his terrible physical labor but should die of it in a week, so he +could not stand my physical idleness, but would grow fat and die. +The third thing--what else was it you talked about?" and Prince Andrew +crooked a third finger. "Ah, yes, hospitals, medicine. He has a fit, +he is dying, and you come and bleed him and patch him up. He will drag +about as a cripple, a burden to everybody, for another ten years. It +would be far easier and simpler for him to die. Others are being +born and there are plenty of them as it is. It would be different if +you grudged losing a laborer--that's how I regard him--but you want to +cure him from love of him. And he does not want that. And besides, +what a notion that medicine ever cured anyone! Killed them, yes!" said +he, frowning angrily and turning away from Pierre. + +Prince Andrew expressed his ideas so clearly and distinctly that +it was evident he had reflected on this subject more than once, and he +spoke readily and rapidly like a man who has not talked for a long +time. His glance became more animated as his conclusions became more +hopeless. + +"Oh, that is dreadful, dreadful!" said Pierre. "I don't understand +how one can live with such ideas. I had such moments myself not long +ago, in Moscow and when traveling, but at such times I collapsed so +that I don't live at all--everything seems hateful to me... myself +most of all. Then I don't eat, don't wash... and how is it with +you?..." + +"Why not wash? That is not cleanly," said Prince Andrew; "on the +contrary one must try to make one's life as pleasant as possible. +I'm alive, that is not my fault, so I must live out my life as best +I can without hurting others." + +"But with such ideas what motive have you for living? One would +sit without moving, undertaking nothing...." + +"Life as it is leaves one no peace. I should be thankful to do +nothing, but here on the one hand the local nobility have done me +the honor to choose me to be their marshal; it was all I could do to +get out of it. They could not understand that I have not the necessary +qualifications for it--the kind of good-natured, fussy shallowness +necessary for the position. Then there's this house, which must be +built in order to have a nook of one's own in which to be quiet. And +now there's this recruiting." + +"Why aren't you serving in the army?" + +"After Austerlitz!" said Prince Andrew gloomily. "No, thank you very +much! I have promised myself not to serve again in the active +Russian army. And I won't--not even if Bonaparte were here at Smolensk +threatening Bald Hills--even then I wouldn't serve in the Russian +army! Well, as I was saying," he continued, recovering his +composure, "now there's this recruiting. My father is chief in command +of the Third District, and my only way of avoiding active service is +to serve under him." + +"Then you are serving?" + +"I am." + +He paused a little while. + +"And why do you serve?" + +"Why, for this reason! My father is one of the most remarkable men +of his time. But he is growing old, and though not exactly cruel he +has too energetic a character. He is so accustomed to unlimited +power that he is terrible, and now he has this authority of a +commander in chief of the recruiting, granted by the Emperor. If I had +been two hours late a fortnight ago he would have had a paymaster's +clerk at Yukhnovna hanged," said Prince Andrew with a smile. "So I +am serving because I alone have any influence with my father, and +now and then can save him from actions which would torment him +afterwards." + +"Well, there you see!" + +"Yes, but it is not as you imagine," Prince Andrew continued. "I did +not, and do not, in the least care about that scoundrel of a clerk who +had stolen some boots from the recruits; I should even have been +very glad to see him hanged, but I was sorry for my father--that again +is for myself." + +Prince Andrew grew more and more animated. His eyes glittered +feverishly while he tried to prove to Pierre that in his actions there +was no desire to do good to his neighbor. + +"There now, you wish to liberate your serfs," he continued; "that is +a very good thing, but not for you--I don't suppose you ever had +anyone flogged or sent to Siberia--and still less for your serfs. If +they are beaten, flogged, or sent to Siberia, I don't suppose they are +any the worse off. In Siberia they lead the same animal life, and +the stripes on their bodies heal, and they are happy as before. But it +is a good thing for proprietors who perish morally, bring remorse upon +themselves, stifle this remorse and grow callous, as a result of being +able to inflict punishments justly and unjustly. It is those people +I pity, and for their sake I should like to liberate the serfs. You +may not have seen, but I have seen, how good men brought up in those +traditions of unlimited power, in time when they grow more +irritable, become cruel and harsh, are conscious of it, but cannot +restrain themselves and grow more and more miserable." + +Prince Andrew spoke so earnestly that Pierre could not help thinking +that these thoughts had been suggested to Prince Andrew by his +father's case. + +He did not reply. + +"So that's what I'm sorry for--human dignity, peace of mind, purity, +and not the serfs' backs and foreheads, which, beat and shave as you +may, always remain the same backs and foreheads." + +"No, no! A thousand times no! I shall never agree with you," said +Pierre. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +In the evening Andrew and Pierre got into the open carriage and +drove to Bald Hills. Prince Andrew, glancing at Pierre, broke the +silence now and then with remarks which showed that he was in a good +temper. + +Pointing to the fields, he spoke of the improvements he was making +in his husbandry. + +Pierre remained gloomily silent, answering in monosyllables and +apparently immersed in his own thoughts. + +He was thinking that Prince Andrew was unhappy, had gone astray, did +not see the true light, and that he, Pierre, ought to aid, +enlighten, and raise him. But as soon as he thought of what he +should say, he felt that Prince Andrew with one word, one argument, +would upset all his teaching, and he shrank from beginning, afraid +of exposing to possible ridicule what to him was precious and sacred. + +"No, but why do you think so?" Pierre suddenly began, lowering his +head and looking like a bull about to charge, "why do you think so? +You should not think so." + +"Think? What about?" asked Prince Andrew with surprise. + +"About life, about man's destiny. It can't be so. I myself thought +like that, and do you know what saved me? Freemasonry! No, don't +smile. Freemasonry is not a religious ceremonial sect, as I thought it +was: Freemasonry is the best expression of the best, the eternal, +aspects of humanity." + +And he began to explain Freemasonry as he understood it to Prince +Andrew. He said that Freemasonry is the teaching of Christianity freed +from the bonds of State and Church, a teaching of equality, +brotherhood, and love. + +"Only our holy brotherhood has the real meaning of life, all the +rest is a dream," said Pierre. "Understand, my dear fellow, that +outside this union all is filled with deceit and falsehood and I agree +with you that nothing is left for an intelligent and good man but to +live out his life, like you, merely trying not to harm others. But +make our fundamental convictions your own, join our brotherhood, +give yourself up to us, let yourself be guided, and you will at once +feel yourself, as I have felt myself, a part of that vast invisible +chain the beginning of which is hidden in heaven," said Pierre. + +Prince Andrew, looking straight in front of him, listened in silence +to Pierre's words. More than once, when the noise of the wheels +prevented his catching what Pierre said, he asked him to repeat it, +and by the peculiar glow that came into Prince Andrew's eyes and by +his silence, Pierre saw that his words were not in vain and that +Prince Andrew would not interrupt him or laugh at what he said. + +They reached a river that had overflowed its banks and which they +had to cross by ferry. While the carriage and horses were being placed +on it, they also stepped on the raft. + +Prince Andrew, leaning his arms on the raft railing, gazed +silently at the flooding waters glittering in the setting sun. + +"Well, what do you think about it?" Pierre asked. "Why are you +silent?" + +"What do I think about it? I am listening to you. It's all very +well.... You say: join our brotherhood and we will show you the aim of +life, the destiny of man, and the laws which govern the world. But who +are we? Men. How is it you know everything? Why do I alone not see +what you see? You see a reign of goodness and truth on earth, but I +don't see it." + +Pierre interrupted him. + +"Do you believe in a future life?" he asked. + +"A future life?" Prince Andrew repeated, but Pierre, giving him no +time to reply, took the repetition for a denial, the more readily as +he knew Prince Andrew's former atheistic convictions. + +"You say you can't see a reign of goodness and truth on earth. Nor +could I, and it cannot be seen if one looks on our life here as the +end of everything. On earth, here on this earth" (Pierre pointed to +the fields), "there is no truth, all is false and evil; but in the +universe, in the whole universe there is a kingdom of truth, and we +who are now the children of earth are--eternally--children of the +whole universe. Don't I feel in my soul that I am part of this vast +harmonious whole? Don't I feel that I form one link, one step, between +the lower and higher beings, in this vast harmonious multitude of +beings in whom the Deity--the Supreme Power if you prefer the term--is +manifest? If I see, clearly see, that ladder leading from plant to +man, why should I suppose it breaks off at me and does not go +farther and farther? I feel that I cannot vanish, since nothing +vanishes in this world, but that I shall always exist and always +have existed. I feel that beyond me and above me there are spirits, +and that in this world there is truth." + +"Yes, that is Herder's theory," said Prince Andrew, "but it is not +that which can convince me, dear friend--life and death are what +convince. What convinces is when one sees a being dear to one, bound +up with one's own life, before whom one was to blame and had hoped +to make it right" (Prince Andrew's voice trembled and he turned away), +"and suddenly that being is seized with pain, suffers, and ceases to +exist.... Why? It cannot be that there is no answer. And I believe +there is.... That's what convinces, that is what has convinced me," +said Prince Andrew. + +"Yes, yes, of course," said Pierre, "isn't that what I'm saying?" + +"No. All I say is that it is not argument that convinces me of the +necessity of a future life, but this: when you go hand in hand with +someone and all at once that person vanishes there, into nowhere, +and you yourself are left facing that abyss, and look in. And I have +looked in...." + +"Well, that's it then! You know that there is a there and there is a +Someone? There is the future life. The Someone is--God." + +Prince Andrew did not reply. The carriage and horses had long +since been taken off, onto the farther bank, and reharnessed. The +sun had sunk half below the horizon and an evening frost was +starring the puddles near the ferry, but Pierre and Andrew, to the +astonishment of the footmen, coachmen, and ferrymen, still stood on +the raft and talked. + +"If there is a God and future life, there is truth and good, and +man's highest happiness consists in striving to attain them. We must +live, we must love, and we must believe that we live not only today on +this scrap of earth, but have lived and shall live forever, there, +in the Whole," said Pierre, and he pointed to the sky. + +Prince Andrew stood leaning on the railing of the raft listening +to Pierre, and he gazed with his eyes fixed on the red reflection of +the sun gleaming on the blue waters. There was perfect stillness. +Pierre became silent. The raft had long since stopped and only the +waves of the current beat softly against it below. Prince Andrew +felt as if the sound of the waves kept up a refrain to Pierre's words, +whispering: + +"It is true, believe it." + +He sighed, and glanced with a radiant, childlike, tender look at +Pierre's face, flushed and rapturous, but yet shy before his +superior friend. + +"Yes, if it only were so!" said Prince Andrew. "However, it is +time to get on," he added, and, stepping off the raft, he looked up at +the sky to which Pierre had pointed, and for the first time since +Austerlitz saw that high, everlasting sky he had seen while lying on +that battlefield; and something that had long been slumbering, +something that was best within him, suddenly awoke, joyful and +youthful, in his soul. It vanished as soon as he returned to the +customary conditions of his life, but he knew that this feeling +which he did not know how to develop existed within him. His meeting +with Pierre formed an epoch in Prince Andrew's life. Though +outwardly he continued to live in the same old way, inwardly he +began a new life. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +It was getting dusk when Prince Andrew and Pierre drove up to the +front entrance of the house at Bald Hills. As they approached the +house, Prince Andrew with a smile drew Pierre's attention to a +commotion going on at the back porch. A woman, bent with age, with a +wallet on her back, and a short, long-haired, young man in a black +garment had rushed back to the gate on seeing the carriage driving up. +Two women ran out after them, and all four, looking round at the +carriage, ran in dismay up the steps of the back porch. + +"Those are Mary's 'God's folk,'" said Prince Andrew. "They have +mistaken us for my father. This is the one matter in which she +disobeys him. He orders these pilgrims to be driven away, but she +receives them." + +"But what are 'God's folk'?" asked Pierre. + +Prince Andrew had no time to answer. The servants came out to meet +them, and he asked where the old prince was and whether he was +expected back soon. + +The old prince had gone to the town and was expected back any +minute. + +Prince Andrew led Pierre to his own apartments, which were always +kept in perfect order and readiness for him in his father's house; +he himself went to the nursery. + +"Let us go and see my sister," he said to Pierre when he returned. +"I have not found her yet, she is hiding now, sitting with her +'God's folk.' It will serve her right, she will be confused, but you +will see her 'God's folk.' It's really very curious." + +"What are 'God's folk'?" asked Pierre. + +"Come, and you'll see for yourself." + +Princess Mary really was disconcerted and red patches came on her +face when they went in. In her snug room, with lamps burning before +the icon stand, a young lad with a long nose and long hair, wearing +a monk's cassock, sat on the sofa beside her, behind a samovar. Near +them, in an armchair, sat a thin, shriveled, old woman, with a meek +expression on her childlike face. + +"Andrew, why didn't you warn me?" said the princess, with mild +reproach, as she stood before her pilgrims like a hen before her +chickens. + +"Charmee de vous voir. Je suis tres contente de vous voir,"* she +said to Pierre as he kissed her hand. She had known him as a child, +and now his friendship with Andrew, his misfortune with his wife, +and above all his kindly, simple face disposed her favorably toward +him. She looked at him with her beautiful radiant eyes and seemed to +say, "I like you very much, but please don't laugh at my people." +After exchanging the first greetings, they sat down. + + +*"Delighted to see you. I am very glad to see you." + + +"Ah, and Ivanushka is here too!" said Prince Andrew, glancing with a +smile at the young pilgrim. + +"Andrew!" said Princess Mary, imploringly. "Il faut que vous sachiez +que c'est une femme,"* said Prince Andrew to Pierre. + +"Andrew, au nom de Dieu!"*[2] Princess Mary repeated. + + +*"You must know that this is a woman." + +*[2] "For heaven's sake." + + +It was evident that Prince Andrew's ironical tone toward the +pilgrims and Princess Mary's helpless attempts to protect them were +their customary long-established relations on the matter. + +"Mais, ma bonne amie," said Prince Andrew, "vous devriez au +contraire m'etre reconnaissante de ce que j'explique a Pierre votre +intimite avec ce jeune homme."* + + +*"But, my dear, you ought on the contrary to be grateful to me for +explaining to Pierre your intimacy with this young man." + + +"Really?" said Pierre, gazing over his spectacles with curiosity and +seriousness (for which Princess Mary was specially grateful to him) +into Ivanushka's face, who, seeing that she was being spoken about, +looked round at them all with crafty eyes. + +Princess Mary's embarrassment on her people's account was quite +unnecessary. They were not in the least abashed. The old woman, +lowering her eyes but casting side glances at the newcomers, had +turned her cup upside down and placed a nibbled bit of sugar beside +it, and sat quietly in her armchair, though hoping to be offered +another cup of tea. Ivanushka, sipping out of her saucer, looked +with sly womanish eyes from under her brows at the young men. + +"Where have you been? To Kiev?" Prince Andrew asked the old woman. + +"I have, good sir," she answered garrulously. "Just at Christmastime +I was deemed worthy to partake of the holy and heavenly sacrament at +the shrine of the saint. And now I'm from Kolyazin, master, where a +great and wonderful blessing has been revealed." + +"And was Ivanushka with you?" + +"I go by myself, benefactor," said Ivanushka, trying to speak in a +bass voice. "I only came across Pelageya in Yukhnovo..." + +Pelageya interrupted her companion; she evidently wished to tell +what she had seen. + +"In Kolyazin, master, a wonderful blessing has been revealed." + +"What is it? Some new relics?" asked Prince Andrew. + +"Andrew, do leave off," said Princess Mary. "Don't tell him, +Pelageya." + +"No... why not, my dear, why shouldn't I? I like him. He is kind, he +is one of God's chosen, he's a benefactor, he once gave me ten rubles, +I remember. When I was in Kiev, Crazy Cyril says to me (he's one of +God's own and goes barefoot summer and winter), he says, 'Why are +you not going to the right place? Go to Kolyazin where a +wonder-working icon of the Holy Mother of God has been revealed.' On +hearing those words I said good-by to the holy folk and went." + +All were silent, only the pilgrim woman went on in measured tones, +drawing in her breath. + +"So I come, master, and the people say to me: 'A great blessing +has been revealed, holy oil trickles from the cheeks of our blessed +Mother, the Holy Virgin Mother of God'...." + +"All right, all right, you can tell us afterwards," said Princess +Mary, flushing. + +"Let me ask her," said Pierre. "Did you see it yourselves?" he +inquired. + +"Oh, yes, master, I was found worthy. Such a brightness on the +face like the light of heaven, and from the blessed Mother's cheek +it drops and drops...." + +"But, dear me, that must be a fraud!" said Pierre, naively, who +had listened attentively to the pilgrim. + +"Oh, master, what are you saying?" exclaimed the horrified Pelageya, +turning to Princess Mary for support. + +"They impose on the people," he repeated. + +"Lord Jesus Christ!" exclaimed the pilgrim woman, crossing +herself. "Oh, don't speak so, master! There was a general who did +not believe, and said, 'The monks cheat,' and as soon as he'd said +it he went blind. And he dreamed that the Holy Virgin Mother of the +Kiev catacombs came to him and said, 'Believe in me and I will make +you whole.' So he begged: 'Take me to her, take me to her.' It's the +real truth I'm telling you, I saw it myself. So he was brought, +quite blind, straight to her, and he goes up to her and falls down and +says, 'Make me whole,' says he, 'and I'll give thee what the Tsar +bestowed on me.' I saw it myself, master, the star is fixed into the +icon. Well, and what do you think? He received his sight! It's a sin +to speak so. God will punish you," she said admonishingly, turning +to Pierre. + +"How did the star get into the icon?" Pierre asked. + +"And was the Holy Mother promoted to the rank of general?" said +Prince Andrew, with a smile. + +Pelageya suddenly grew quite pale and clasped her hands. + +"Oh, master, master, what a sin! And you who have a son!" she began, +her pallor suddenly turning to a vivid red. "Master, what have you +said? God forgive you!" And she crossed herself. "Lord forgive him! My +dear, what does it mean?..." she asked, turning to Princess Mary. +She got up and, almost crying, began to arrange her wallet. She +evidently felt frightened and ashamed to have accepted charity in a +house where such things could be said, and was at the same time +sorry to have now to forgo the charity of this house. + +"Now, why need you do it?" said Princess Mary. "Why did you come +to me?..." + +"Come, Pelageya, I was joking," said Pierre. "Princesse, ma +parole, je n'ai pas voulu l'offenser.* I did not mean anything, I +was only joking," he said, smiling shyly and trying to efface his +offense. "It was all my fault, and Andrew was only joking." + + +*"Princess, on my word, I did not wish to offend her." + + +Pelageya stopped doubtfully, but in Pierre's face there was such a +look of sincere penitence, and Prince Andrew glanced so meekly now +at her and now at Pierre, that she was gradually reassured. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +The pilgrim woman was appeased and, being encouraged to talk, gave a +long account of Father Amphilochus, who led so holy a life that his +hands smelled of incense, and how on her last visit to Kiev some monks +she knew let her have the keys of the catacombs, and how she, taking +some dried bread with her, had spent two days in the catacombs with +the saints. "I'd pray awhile to one, ponder awhile, then go on to +another. I'd sleep a bit and then again go and kiss the relics, and +there was such peace all around, such blessedness, that one don't want +to come out, even into the light of heaven again." + +Pierre listened to her attentively and seriously. Prince Andrew went +out of the room, and then, leaving "God's folk" to finish their tea, +Princess Mary took Pierre into the drawing room. + +"You are very kind," she said to him. + +"Oh, I really did not mean to hurt her feelings. I understand them +so well and have the greatest respect for them." + +Princess Mary looked at him silently and smiled affectionately. + +"I have known you a long time, you see, and am as fond of you as +of a brother," she said. "How do you find Andrew?" she added +hurriedly, not giving him time to reply to her affectionate words. +"I am very anxious about him. His health was better in the winter, but +last spring his wound reopened and the doctor said he ought to go away +for a cure. And I am also very much afraid for him spiritually. He has +not a character like us women who, when we suffer, can weep away our +sorrows. He keeps it all within him. Today he is cheerful and in +good spirits, but that is the effect of your visit--he is not often +like that. If you could persuade him to go abroad. He needs +activity, and this quiet regular life is very bad for him. Others +don't notice it, but I see it." + +Toward ten o'clock the men servants rushed to the front door, +hearing the bells of the old prince's carriage approaching. Prince +Andrew and Pierre also went out into the porch. + +"Who's that?" asked the old prince, noticing Pierre as he got out +of, the carriage. + +"Ah! Very glad! Kiss me," he said, having learned who the young +stranger was. + +The old prince was in a good temper and very gracious to Pierre. + +Before supper, Prince Andrew, coming back to his father's study, +found him disputing hotly with his visitor. Pierre was maintaining +that a time would come when there would be no more wars. The old +prince disputed it chaffingly, but without getting angry. + +"Drain the blood from men's veins and put in water instead, then +there will be no more war! Old women's nonsense--old women's +nonsense!" he repeated, but still he patted Pierre affectionately on +the shoulder, and then went up to the table where Prince Andrew, +evidently not wishing to join in the conversation, was looking over +the papers his father had brought from town. The old prince went up to +him and began to talk business. + +"The marshal, a Count Rostov, hasn't sent half his contingent. He +came to town and wanted to invite me to dinner--I gave him a pretty +dinner!... And there, look at this.... Well, my boy," the old prince +went on, addressing his son and patting Pierre on the shoulder. "A +fine fellow--your friend--I like him! He stirs me up. Another says +clever things and one doesn't care to listen, but this one talks +rubbish yet stirs an old fellow up. Well, go! Get along! Perhaps +I'll come and sit with you at supper. We'll have another dispute. Make +friends with my little fool, Princess Mary," he shouted after +Pierre, through the door. + +Only now, on his visit to Bald Hills, did Pierre fully realize the +strength and charm of his friendship with Prince Andrew. That charm +was not expressed so much in his relations with him as with all his +family and with the household. With the stern old prince and the +gentle, timid Princess Mary, though he had scarcely known them, Pierre +at once felt like an old friend. They were all fond of him already. +Not only Princess Mary, who had been won by his gentleness with the +pilgrims, gave him her most radiant looks, but even the one-year-old +"Prince Nicholas" (as his grandfather called him) smiled at Pierre and +let himself be taken in his arms, and Michael Ivanovich and +Mademoiselle Bourienne looked at him with pleasant smiles when he +talked to the old prince. + +The old prince came in to supper; this was evidently on Pierre's +account. And during the two days of the young man's visit he was +extremely kind to him and told him to visit them again. + +When Pierre had gone and the members of the household met +together, they began to express their opinions of him as people always +do after a new acquaintance has left, but as seldom happens, no one +said anything but what was good of him. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +When returning from his leave, Rostov felt, for the first time, +how close was the bond that united him to Denisov and and the whole +regiment. + +On approaching it, Rostov felt as he had done when approaching his +home in Moscow. When he saw the first hussar with the unbuttoned +uniform of his regiment, when he recognized red-haired Dementyev and +saw the picket ropes of the roan horses, when Lavrushka gleefully +shouted to his master, "The count has come!" and Denisov, who had been +asleep on his bed, ran all disheveled out of the mud hut to embrace +him, and the officers collected round to greet the new arrival, Rostov +experienced the same feeling his mother, his father, and his sister +had embraced him, and tears of joy choked him so that he could not +speak. The regiment was also a home, and as unalterably dear and +precious as his parents' house. + +When he had reported himself to the commander of the regiment and +had been reassigned to his former squadron, had been on duty and had +gone out foraging, when he had again entered into all the little +interests of the regiment and felt himself deprived of liberty and +bound in one narrow, unchanging frame, he experienced the same sense +of peace, of moral support, and the same sense being at home here in +his own place, as he had felt under the parental roof. But here was +none of all that turmoil of the world at large, where he did not +know his right place and took mistaken decisions; here was no Sonya +with whom he ought, or ought not, to have an explanation; here was +no possibility of going there or not going there; here there were +not twenty-four hours in the day which could be spent in such a +variety of ways; there was not that innumerable crowd of people of +whom not one was nearer to him or farther from him than another; there +were none of those uncertain and undefined money relations with his +father, and nothing to recall that terrible loss to Dolokhov. Here, in +the regiment, all was clear and simple. The whole world was divided +into two unequal parts: one, our Pavlograd regiment; the other, all +the rest. And the rest was no concern of his. In the regiment, +everything was definite: who was lieutenant, who captain, who was a +good fellow, who a bad one, and most of all, who was a comrade. The +canteenkeeper gave one credit, one's pay came every four months, there +was nothing to think out or decide, you had only to do nothing that +was considered bad in the Pavlograd regiment and, when given an order, +to do what was clearly, distinctly, and definitely ordered--and all +would be well. + +Having once more entered into the definite conditions of this +regimental life, Rostov felt the joy and relief a tired man feels on +lying down to rest. Life in the regiment, during this campaign, was +all the pleasanter for him, because, after his loss to Dolokhov (for +which, in spite of all his family's efforts to console him, he could +not forgive himself), he had made up his mind to atone for his fault +by serving, not as he had done before, but really well, and by being a +perfectly first-rate comrade and officer--in a word, a splendid man +altogether, a thing which seemed so difficult out in the world, but so +possible in the regiment. + +After his losses, he had determined to pay back his debt to his +parents in five years. He received ten thousand rubles a year, but now +resolved to take only two thousand and leave the rest to repay the +debt to his parents. + +Our army, after repeated retreats and advances and battles at +Pultusk and Preussisch-Eylau, was concentrated near Bartenstein. It +was awaiting the Emperor's arrival and the beginning of a new +campaign. + +The Pavlograd regiment, belonging to that part of the army which had +served in the 1805 campaign, had been recruiting up to strength in +Russia, and arrived too late to take part in the first actions of +the campaign. It had been neither at Pultusk nor at Preussisch-Eylau +and, when it joined the army in the field in the second half of the +campaign, was attached to Platov's division. + +Platov's division was acting independently of the main army. Several +times parts of the Pavlograd regiment had exchanged shots with the +enemy, had taken prisoners, and once had even captured Marshal +Oudinot's carriages. In April the Pavlograds were stationed +immovably for some weeks near a totally ruined and deserted German +village. + +A thaw had set in, it was muddy and cold, the ice on the river +broke, and the roads became impassable. For days neither provisions +for the men nor fodder for the horses had been issued. As no +transports could arrive, the men dispersed about the abandoned and +deserted villages, searching for potatoes, but found few even of +these. + +Everything had been eaten up and the inhabitants had all fled--if +any remained, they were worse than beggars and nothing more could be +taken from them; even the soldiers, usually pitiless enough, instead +of taking anything from them, often gave them the last of their +rations. + +The Pavlograd regiment had had only two men wounded in action, but +had lost nearly half its men from hunger and sickness. In the +hospitals, death was so certain that soldiers suffering from fever, or +the swelling that came from bad food, preferred to remain on duty, and +hardly able to drag their legs went to the front rather than to the +hospitals. When spring came on, the soldiers found a plant just +showing out of the ground that looked like asparagus, which, for +some reason, they called "Mashka's sweet root." It was very bitter, +but they wandered about the fields seeking it and dug it out with +their sabers and ate it, though they were ordered not to do so, as +it was a noxious plant. That spring a new disease broke +out among the soldiers, a swelling of the arms, legs, and face, +which the doctors attributed to eating this root. But in spite of +all this, the soldiers of Denisov's squadron fed chiefly on +"Mashka's sweet root," because it was the second week that the last of +the biscuits were being doled out at the rate of half a pound a man +and the last potatoes received had sprouted and frozen. + +The horses also had been fed for a fortnight on straw from the +thatched roofs and had become terribly thin, though still covered with +tufts of felty winter hair. + +Despite this destitution, the soldiers and officers went on living +just as usual. Despite their pale swollen faces and tattered uniforms, +the hussars formed line for roll call, kept things in order, groomed +their horses, polished their arms, brought in straw from the +thatched roofs in place of fodder, and sat down to dine round the +caldrons from which they rose up hungry, joking about their nasty food +and their hunger. As usual, in their spare time, they lit bonfires, +steamed themselves before them naked; smoked, picked out and baked +sprouting rotten potatoes, told and listened to stories of +Potemkin's and Suvorov's campaigns, or to legends of Alesha the Sly, +or the priest's laborer Mikolka. + +The officers, as usual, lived in twos and threes in the roofless, +half-ruined houses. The seniors tried to collect straw and potatoes +and, in general, food for the men. The younger ones occupied +themselves as before, some playing cards (there was plenty of money, +though there was no food), some with more innocent games, such as +quoits and skittles. The general trend of the campaign was rarely +spoken of, partly because nothing certain was known about it, partly +because there was a vague feeling that in the main it was going badly. + +Rostov lived, as before, with Denisov, and since their furlough they +had become more friendly than ever. Denisov never spoke of Rostov's +family, but by the tender friendship his commander showed him, +Rostov felt that the elder hussar's luckless love for Natasha played a +part in strengthening their friendship. Denisov evidently tried to +expose Rostov to danger as seldom as possible, and after an action +greeted his safe return with evident joy. On one of his foraging +expeditions, in a deserted and ruined village to which he had come +in search of provisions, Rostov found a family consisting of an old +Pole and his daughter with an infant in arms. They were half clad, +hungry, too weak to get away on foot and had no means of obtaining a +conveyance. Rostov brought them to his quarters, placed them in his +own lodging, and kept them for some weeks while the old man was +recovering. One of his comrades, talking of women, began chaffing +Rostov, saying that he was more wily than any of them and that it +would not be a bad thing if he introduced to them the pretty Polish +girl he had saved. Rostov took the joke as an insult, flared up, and +said such unpleasant things to the officer that it was all Denisov +could do to prevent a duel. When the officer had gone away, Denisov, +who did not himself know what Rostov's relations with the Polish +girl might be, began to upbraid him for his quickness of temper, and +Rostov replied: + +"Say what you like.... She is like a sister to me, and I can't +tell you how it offended me... because... well, for that reason...." + +Denisov patted him on the shoulder and began rapidly pacing the room +without looking at Rostov, as was his way at moments of deep feeling. + +"Ah, what a mad bweed you Wostovs are!" he muttered, and Rostov +noticed tears in his eyes. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +In April the troops were enlivened by news of the Emperor's arrival, +but Rostov had no chance of being present at the review he held at +Bartenstein, as the Pavlograds were at the outposts far beyond that +place. + +They were bivouacking. Denisov and Rostov were living in an earth +hut, dug out for them by the soldiers and roofed with branches and +turf. The hut was made in the following manner, which had then come +into vogue. A trench was dug three and a half feet wide, four feet +eight inches deep, and eight feet long. At one end of the trench, +steps were cut out and these formed the entrance and vestibule. The +trench itself was the room, in which the lucky ones, such as the +squadron commander, had a board, lying on piles at the end opposite +the entrance, to serve as a table. On each side of the trench, the +earth was cut out to a breadth of about two and a half feet, and +this did duty for bedsteads and couches. The roof was so constructed +that one could stand up in the middle of the trench and could even sit +up on the beds if one drew close to the table. Denisov, who was living +luxuriously because the soldiers of his squadron liked him, had also a +board in the roof at the farther end, with a piece of (broken but +mended) glass in it for a window. When it was very cold, embers from +the soldiers' campfire were placed on a bent sheet of iron on the +steps in the "reception room"--as Denisov called that part of the hut- +and it was then so warm that the officers, of whom there were always +some with Denisov and Rostov, sat in their shirt sleeves. + +In April, Rostov was on orderly duty. One morning, between seven and +eight, returning after a sleepless night, he sent for embers, +changed his rain-soaked underclothes, said his prayers, drank tea, got +warm, then tidied up the things on the table and in his own corner, +and, his face glowing from exposure to the wind and with nothing on +but his shirt, lay down on his back, putting his arms under his +head. He was pleasantly considering the probability of being +promoted in a few days for his last reconnoitering expedition, and +was awaiting Denisov, who had gone out somewhere and with whom he +wanted a talk. + +Suddenly he heard Denisov shouting in a vibrating voice behind the +hut, evidently much excited. Rostov moved to the window to see whom he +was speaking to, and saw the quartermaster, Topcheenko. + +"I ordered you not to let them eat that Mashka woot stuff!" Denisov +was shouting. "And I saw with my own eyes how Lazarchuk bwought some +fwom the fields." + +"I have given the order again and again, your honor, but they +don't obey," answered the quartermaster. + +Rostov lay down again on his bed and thought complacently: "Let +him fuss and bustle now, my job's done and I'm lying down--capitally!" +He could hear that Lavrushka--that sly, bold orderly of Denisov's--was +talking, as well as the quartermaster. Lavrushka was saying +something about loaded wagons, biscuits, and oxen he had seen when +he had gone out for provisions. + +Then Denisov's voice was heard shouting farther and farther away. +"Saddle! Second platoon!" + +"Where are they off to now?" thought Rostov. + +Five minutes later, Denisov came into the hut, climbed with muddy +boots on the bed, lit his pipe, furiously scattered his things +about, took his leaded whip, buckled on his saber, and went out again. +In answer to Rostov's inquiry where he was going, he answered +vaguely and crossly that he had some business. + +"Let God and our gweat monarch judge me afterwards!" said Denisov +going out, and Rostov heard the hoofs of several horses splashing +through the mud. He did not even trouble to find out where Denisov had +gone. Having got warm in his corner, he fell asleep and did not +leave the hut till toward evening. Denisov had not yet returned. The +weather had cleared up, and near the next hut two officers and a cadet +were playing svayka, laughing as they threw their missiles which +buried themselves in the soft mud. Rostov joined them. In the middle +of the game, the officers saw some wagons approaching with fifteen +hussars on their skinny horses behind them. The wagons escorted by the +hussars drew up to the picket ropes and a crowd of hussars +surrounded them. + +"There now, Denisov has been worrying," said Rostov, "and here are +the provisions." + +"So they are!" said the officers. "Won't the soldiers be glad!" + +A little behind the hussars came Denisov, accompanied by two +infantry officers with whom he was talking. + +Rostov went to meet them. + +"I warn you, Captain," one of the officers, a short thin man, +evidently very angry, was saying. + +"Haven't I told you I won't give them up?" replied Denisov. + +"You will answer for it, Captain. It is mutiny--seizing the +transport of one's own army. Our men have had nothing to eat for two +days." + +"And mine have had nothing for two weeks," said Denisov. + +"It is robbery! You'll answer for it, sir!" said the infantry +officer, raising his voice. + +"Now, what are you pestewing me for?" cried Denisov, suddenly losing +his temper. "I shall answer for it and not you, and you'd better not +buzz about here till you get hurt. Be off! Go!" he shouted at the +officers. + +"Very well, then!" shouted the little officer, undaunted and not +riding away. "If you are determined to rob, I'll..." + +"Go to the devil! quick ma'ch, while you're safe and sound!" and +Denisov turned his horse on the officer. + +"Very well, very well!" muttered the officer, threateningly, and +turning his horse he trotted away, jolting in his saddle. + +"A dog astwide a fence! A weal dog astwide a fence!" shouted Denisov +after him (the most insulting expression a cavalryman can address to a +mounted infantryman) and riding up to Rostov, he burst out laughing. + +"I've taken twansports from the infantwy by force!" he said. +"After all, can't let our men starve." + +The wagons that had reached the hussars had been consigned to an +infantry regiment, but learning from Lavrushka that the transport +was unescorted, Denisov with his hussars had seized it by force. The +soldiers had biscuits dealt out to them freely, and they even shared +them with the other squadrons. + +The next day the regimental commander sent for Denisov, and +holding his fingers spread out before his eyes said: + +"This is how I look at this affair: I know nothing about it and +won't begin proceedings, but I advise you to ride over to the staff +and settle the business there in the commissariat department and if +possible sign a receipt for such and such stores received. If not, +as the demand was booked against an infantry regiment, there will be a +row and the affair may end badly." + +From the regimental commander's, Denisov rode straight to the +staff with a sincere desire to act on this advice. In the evening he +came back to his dugout in a state such as Rostov had never yet seen +him in. Denisov could not speak and gasped for breath. When Rostov +asked what was the matter, he only uttered some incoherent oaths and +threats in a hoarse, feeble voice. + +Alarmed at Denisov's condition, Rostov suggested that he should +undress, drink some water, and send for the doctor. + +"Twy me for wobbewy... oh! Some more water... Let them twy me, but +I'll always thwash scoundwels... and I'll tell the Empewo'... +Ice..." he muttered. + +The regimental doctor, when he came, said it was absolutely +necessary to bleed Denisov. A deep saucer of black blood was taken +from his hairy arm and only then was he able to relate what had +happened to him. + +"I get there," began Denisov. "'Now then, where's your chief's +quarters?' They were pointed out. 'Please to wait.' 'I've widden +twenty miles and have duties to attend to and no time to wait. +Announce me.' Vewy well, so out comes their head chief--also took it +into his head to lecture me: 'It's wobbewy!'--'Wobbewy,' I say, 'is +not done by man who seizes pwovisions to feed his soldiers, but by him +who takes them to fill his own pockets!' 'Will you please be +silent?' 'Vewy good!' Then he says: 'Go and give a weceipt to the +commissioner, but your affair will be passed on to headquarters.' I go +to the commissioner. I enter, and at the table... who do you think? +No, but wait a bit!... Who is it that's starving us?" shouted Denisov, +hitting the table with the fist of his newly bled arm so violently +that the table nearly broke down and the tumblers on it jumped +about. "Telyanin! 'What? So it's you who's starving us to death! Is +it? Take this and this!' and I hit him so pat, stwaight on his +snout... 'Ah, what a... what...!' and I sta'ted fwashing him... +Well, I've had a bit of fun I can tell you!" cried Denisov, gleeful +and yet angry, his showing under his black mustache. "I'd have +killed him if they hadn't taken him away!" + +"But what are you shouting for? Calm yourself," said Rostov. "You've +set your arm bleeding afresh. Wait, we must tie it up again." + +Denisov was bandaged up again and put to bed. Next day he woke +calm and cheerful. + +But at noon the adjutant of the regiment came into Rostov's and +Denisov's dugout with a grave and serious face and regretfully +showed them a paper addressed to Major Denisov from the regimental +commander in which inquiries were made about yesterday's occurrence. +The adjutant told them that the affair was likely to take a very bad +turn: that a court-martial had been appointed, and that in view of the +severity with which marauding and insubordination were now regarded, +degradation to the ranks would be the best that could be hoped for. + +The case, as represented by the offended parties, was that, after +seizing the transports, Major Denisov, being drunk, went to the +chief quartermaster and without any provocation called him a thief, +threatened to strike him, and on being led out had rushed into the +office and given two officials a thrashing, and dislocated the arm +of one of them. + +In answer to Rostov's renewed questions, Denisov said, laughing, +that he thought he remembered that some other fellow had got mixed +up in it, but that it was all nonsense and rubbish, and he did not +in the least fear any kind of trial, and that if those scoundrels +dared attack him he would give them an answer that they would not +easily forget. + +Denisov spoke contemptuously of the whole matter, but Rostov knew +him too well not to detect that (while hiding it from others) at heart +he feared a court-martial and was worried over the affair, which was +evidently taking a bad turn. Every day, letters of inquiry and notices +from the court arrived, and on the first of May, Denisov was ordered +to hand the squadron over to the next in seniority and appear before +the staff of his division to explain his violence at the +commissariat office. On the previous day Platov reconnoitered with two +Cossack regiments and two squadrons of hussars. Denisov, as was his +wont, rode out in front of the outposts, parading his courage. A +bullet fired by a French sharpshooter hit him in the fleshy part of +his leg. Perhaps at another time Denisov would not have left the +regiment for so slight a wound, but now he took advantage of it to +excuse himself from appearing at the staff and went into hospital. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +In June the battle of Friedland was fought, in which the +Pavlograds did not take part, and after that an armistice was +proclaimed. Rostov, who felt his friend's absence very much, having no +news of him since he left and feeling very anxious about his wound and +the progress of his affairs, took advantage of the armistice to get +leave to visit Denisov in hospital. + +The hospital was in a small Prussian town that had been twice +devastated by Russian and French troops. Because it was summer, when +it is so beautiful out in the fields, the little town presented a +particularly dismal appearance with its broken roofs and fences, its +foul streets, tattered inhabitants, and the sick and drunken +soldiers wandering about. + +The hospital was in a brick building with some of the window +frames and panes broken and a courtyard surrounded by the remains of a +wooden fence that had been pulled to pieces. Several bandaged +soldiers, with pale swollen faces, were sitting or walking about in +the sunshine in the yard. + +Directly Rostov entered the door he was enveloped by a smell of +putrefaction and hospital air. On the stairs he met a Russian army +doctor smoking a cigar. The doctor was followed by a Russian +assistant. + +"I can't tear myself to pieces," the doctor was saying. "Come to +Makar Alexeevich in the evening. I shall be there." + +The assistant asked some further questions. + +"Oh, do the best you can! Isn't it all the same?" The doctor noticed +Rostov coming upstairs. + +"What do you want, sir?" said the doctor. "What do you want? The +bullets having spared you, do you want to try typhus? This is a +pesthouse, sir." + +"How so?" asked Rostov. + +"Typhus, sir. It's death to go in. Only we two, Makeev and I" (he +pointed to the assistant), "keep on here. Some five of us doctors have +died in this place.... When a new one comes he is done for in a week," +said the doctor with evident satisfaction. "Prussian doctors have been +invited here, but our allies don't like it at all." + +Rostov explained that he wanted to see Major Denisov of the hussars, +who was wounded. + +"I don't know. I can't tell you, sir. Only think! I am alone in +charge of three hospitals with more than four hundred patients! It's +well that the charitable Prussian ladies send us two pounds of +coffee and some lint each month or we should be lost!" he laughed. +"Four hundred, sir, and they're always sending me fresh ones. There +are four hundred? Eh?" he asked, turning to the assistant. + +The assistant looked fagged out. He was evidently vexed and +impatient for the talkative doctor to go. + +"Major Denisov," Rostov said again. "He was wounded at Molliten." + +"Dead, I fancy. Eh, Makeev?" queried the doctor, in a tone of +indifference. + +The assistant, however, did not confirm the doctor's words. + +"Is he tall and with reddish hair?" asked the doctor. + +Rostov described Denisov's appearance. + +"There was one like that," said the doctor, as if pleased. "That one +is dead, I fancy. However, I'll look up our list. We had a list. +Have you got it, Makeev?" + +"Makar Alexeevich has the list," answered the assistant. "But if +you'll step into the officers' wards you'll see for yourself," he +added, turning to Rostov. + +"Ah, you'd better not go, sir," said the doctor, "or you may have to +stay here yourself." + +But Rostov bowed himself away from the doctor and asked the +assistant to show him the way. + +"Only don't blame me!" the doctor shouted up after him. + +Rostov and the assistant went into the dark corridor. The smell +was so strong there that Rostov held his nose and had to pause and +collect his strength before he could go on. A door opened to the +right, and an emaciated sallow man on crutches, barefoot and in +underclothing, limped out and, leaning against the doorpost, looked +with glittering envious eyes at those who were passing. Glancing in at +the door, Rostov saw that the sick and wounded were lying on the floor +on straw and overcoats. + +"May I go in and look?" + +"What is there to see?" said the assistant. + +But, just because the assistant evidently did not want him to go in, +Rostov entered the soldiers' ward. The foul air, to which he had +already begun to get used in the corridor, was still stronger here. It +was a little different, more pungent, and one felt that this was where +it originated. + +In the long room, brightly lit up by the sun through the large +windows, the sick and wounded lay in two rows with their heads to +the walls, and leaving a passage in the middle. Most of them were +unconscious and paid no attention to the newcomers. Those who were +conscious raised themselves or lifted their thin yellow faces, and all +looked intently at Rostov with the same expression of hope, of relief, +reproach, and envy of another's health. Rostov went to the middle of +the room and looking through the open doors into the two adjoining +rooms saw the same thing there. He stood still, looking silently +around. He had not at all expected such a sight. Just before him, +almost across the middle of the passage on the bare floor, lay a +sick man, probably a Cossack to judge by the cut of his hair. The +man lay on his back, his huge arms and legs outstretched. His face was +purple, his eyes were rolled back so that only the whites were seen, +and on his bare legs and arms which were still red, the veins stood +out like cords. He was knocking the back of his head against the +floor, hoarsely uttering some word which he kept repeating. Rostov +listened and made out the word. It was "drink, drink, a drink!" Rostov +glanced round, looking for someone who would put this man back in +his place and bring him water. + +"Who looks after the sick here?" he asked the assistant. + +Just then a commissariat soldier, a hospital orderly, came in from +the next room, marching stiffly, and drew up in front of Rostov. + +"Good day, your honor!" he shouted, rolling his eyes at Rostov and +evidently mistaking him for one of the hospital authorities. + +"Get him to his place and give him some water," said Rostov, +pointing to the Cossack. + +"Yes, your honor," the soldier replied complacently, and rolling his +eyes more than ever he drew himself up still straighter, but did not +move. + +"No, it's impossible to do anything here," thought Rostov, +lowering his eyes, and he was going out, but became aware of an +intense look fixed on him on his right, and he turned. Close to the +corner, on an overcoat, sat an old, unshaven, gray-bearded soldier +as thin as a skeleton, with a stern sallow face and eyes intently +fixed on Rostov. The man's neighbor on one side whispered something to +him, pointing at Rostov, who noticed that the old man wanted to +speak to him. He drew nearer and saw that the old man had only one leg +bent under him, the other had been amputated above the knee. His +neighbor on the other side, who lay motionless some distance from +him with his head thrown back, was a young soldier with a snub nose. +His pale waxen face was still freckled and his eyes were rolled +back. Rostov looked at the young soldier and a cold chill ran down his +back. + +"Why, this one seems..." he began, turning to the assistant. + +"And how we've been begging, your honor," said the old soldier, +his jaw quivering. "He's been dead since morning. After all we're men, +not dogs." + +"I'll send someone at once. He shall be taken away--taken away at +once," said the assistant hurriedly. "Let us go, your honor." + +"Yes, yes, let us go," said Rostov hastily, and lowering his eyes +and shrinking, he tried to pass unnoticed between the rows of +reproachful envious eyes that were fixed upon him, and went out of the +room. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Going along the corridor, the assistant led Rostov to the +officers' wards, consisting of three rooms, the doors of which stood +open. There were beds in these rooms and the sick and wounded officers +were lying or sitting on them. Some were walking about the rooms in +hospital dressing gowns. The first person Rostov met in the +officers' ward was a thin little man with one arm, who was walking +about the first room in a nightcap and hospital dressing gown, with +a pipe between his teeth. Rostov looked at him, trying to remember +where he had seen him before. + +"See where we've met again!" said the little man. "Tushin, Tushin, +don't you remember, who gave you a lift at Schon Grabern? And I've had +a bit cut off, you see..." he went on with a smile, pointing to the +empty sleeve of his dressing gown. "Looking for Vasili Dmitrich +Denisov? My neighbor," he added, when he heard who Rostov wanted. +"Here, here," and Tushin led him into the next room, from whence +came sounds of several laughing voices. + +"How can they laugh, or even live at all here?" thought Rostov, +still aware of that smell of decomposing flesh that had been so strong +in the soldiers' ward, and still seeming to see fixed on him those +envious looks which had followed him out from both sides, and the face +of that young soldier with eyes rolled back. + +Denisov lay asleep on his bed with his head under the blanket, +though it was nearly noon. + +"Ah, Wostov? How are you, how are you?" he called out, still in +the same voice as in the regiment, but Rostov noticed sadly that under +this habitual ease and animation some new, sinister, hidden feeling +showed itself in the expression of Denisov's face and the +intonations of his voice. + +His wound, though a slight one, had not yet healed even now, six +weeks after he had been hit. His face had the same swollen pallor as +the faces of the other hospital patients, but it was not this that +struck Rostov. What struck him was that Denisov did not seem glad to +see him, and smiled at him unnaturally. He did not ask about the +regiment, nor about the general state of affairs, and when Rostov +spoke of these matters did not listen. + +Rostov even noticed that Denisov did not like to be reminded of +the regiment, or in general of that other free life which was going on +outside the hospital. He seemed to try to forget that old life and was +only interested in the affair with the commissariat officers. On +Rostov's inquiry as to how the matter stood, he at once produced +from under his pillow a paper he had received from the commission +and the rough draft of his answer to it. He became animated when he +began reading his paper and specially drew Rostov's attention to the +stinging rejoinders he made to his enemies. His hospital companions, +who had gathered round Rostov--a fresh arrival from the world outside- +gradually began to disperse as soon as Denisov began reading his +answer. Rostov noticed by their faces that all those gentlemen had +already heard that story more than once and were tired of it. Only the +man who had the next bed, a stout Uhlan, continued to sit on his +bed, gloomily frowning and smoking a pipe, and little one-armed Tushin +still listened, shaking his head disapprovingly. In the middle of +the reading, the Uhlan interrupted Denisov. + +"But what I say is," he said, turning to Rostov, "it would be best +simply to petition the Emperor for pardon. They say great rewards will +now be distributed, and surely a pardon would be granted...." + +"Me petition the Empewo'!" exclaimed Denisov, in a voice to which he +tried hard to give the old energy and fire, but which sounded like +an expression of irritable impotence. "What for? If I were a wobber +I would ask mercy, but I'm being court-martialed for bwinging +wobbers to book. Let them twy me, I'm not afwaid of anyone. I've +served the Tsar and my countwy honowably and have not stolen! And am I +to be degwaded?... Listen, I'm w'iting to them stwaight. This is +what I say: 'If I had wobbed the Tweasuwy...'" + +"It's certainly well written," said Tushin, "but that's not the +point, Vasili Dmitrich," and he also turned to Rostov. "One has to +submit, and Vasili Dmitrich doesn't want to. You know the auditor told +you it was a bad business." + +"Well, let it be bad," said Denisov. + +"The auditor wrote out a petition for you," continued Tushin, "and +you ought to sign it and ask this gentleman to take it. No doubt he" +(indicating Rostov) "has connections on the staff. You won't find a +better opportunity." + +"Haven't I said I'm not going to gwovel?" Denisov interrupted him, +went on reading his paper. + +Rostov had not the courage to persuade Denisov, though he +instinctively felt that the way advised by Tushin and the other +officers was the safest, and though he would have been glad to be of +service to Denisov. He knew his stubborn will and straightforward +hasty temper. + +When the reading of Denisov's virulent reply, which took more than +an hour, was over, Rostov said nothing, and he spent the rest of the +day in a most dejected state of mind amid Denisov's hospital comrades, +who had round him, telling them what he knew and listening to their +stories. Denisov was moodily silent all the evening. + +Late in the evening, when Rostov was about to leave, he asked +Denisov whether he had no commission for him. + +"Yes, wait a bit," said Denisov, glancing round at the officers, and +taking his papers from under his pillow he went to the window, where +he had an inkpot, and sat down to write. + +"It seems it's no use knocking one's head against a wall!" he +said, coming from the window and giving Rostov a large envelope. In it +was the petition to the Emperor drawn up by the auditor, in which +Denisov, without alluding to the offenses of the commissariat +officials, simply asked for pardon. + +"Hand it in. It seems..." + +He did not finish, but gave a painfully unnatural smile. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Having returned to the regiment and told the commander the state +of Denisov's affairs, Rostov rode to Tilsit with the letter to the +Emperor. + +On the thirteenth of June the French and Russian Emperors arrived in +Tilsit. Boris Drubetskoy had asked the important personage on whom +he was in attendance, to include him in the suite appointed for the +stay at Tilsit. + +"I should like to see the great man," he said, alluding to Napoleon, +whom hitherto he, like everyone else, had always called Buonaparte. + +"You are speaking of Buonaparte?" asked the general, smiling. + +Boris looked at his general inquiringly and immediately saw that +he was being tested. + +"I am speaking, Prince, of the Emperor Napoleon," he replied. The +general patted him on the shoulder, with a smile. + +"You will go far," he said, and took him to Tilsit with him. + +Boris was among the few present at the Niemen on the day the two +Emperors met. He saw the raft, decorated with monograms, saw +Napoleon pass before the French Guards on the farther bank of the +river, saw the pensive face of the Emperor Alexander as he sat in +silence in a tavern on the bank of the Niemen awaiting Napoleon's +arrival, saw both Emperors get into boats, and saw how Napoleon- +reaching the raft first--stepped quickly forward to meet Alexander and +held out his hand to him, and how they both retired into the pavilion. +Since he had begun to move in the highest circles Boris had made it +his habit to watch attentively all that went on around him and to note +it down. At the time of the meeting at Tilsit he asked the names of +those who had come with Napoleon and about the uniforms they wore, and +listened attentively to words spoken by important personages. At the +moment the Emperors went into the pavilion he looked at his watch, and +did not forget to look at it again when Alexander came out. The +interview had lasted an hour and fifty-three minutes. He noted this +down that same evening, among other facts he felt to be of historic +importance. As the Emperor's suite was a very small one, it was a +matter of great importance, for a man who valued his success in the +service, to be at Tilsit on the occasion of this interview between the +two Emperors, and having succeeded in this, Boris felt that henceforth +his position was fully assured. He had not only become known, but +people had grown accustomed to him and accepted him. Twice he had +executed commissions to the Emperor himself, so that the latter knew +his face, and all those at court, far from cold-shouldering him as +at first when they considered him a newcomer, would now have been +surprised had he been absent. + +Boris lodged with another adjutant, the Polish Count Zhilinski. +Zhilinski, a Pole brought up in Paris, was rich, and passionately fond +of the French, and almost every day of the stay at Tilsit, French +officers of the Guard and from French headquarters were dining and +lunching with him and Boris. + +On the evening of the twenty-fourth of June, Count Zhilinski +arranged a supper for his French friends. The guest of honor was an +aide-de-camp of Napoleon's, there were also several French officers of +the Guard, and a page of Napoleon's, a young lad of an old +aristocratic French family. That same day, Rostov, profiting by the +darkness to avoid being recognized in civilian dress, came to Tilsit +and went to the lodging occupied by Boris and Zhilinski. + +Rostov, in common with the whole army from which he came, was far +from having experienced the change of feeling toward Napoleon and +the French--who from being foes had suddenly become friends--that +had taken place at headquarters and in Boris. In the army, Bonaparte +and the French were still regarded with mingled feelings of anger, +contempt, and fear. Only recently, talking with one of Platov's +Cossack officers, Rostov had argued that if Napoleon were taken +prisoner he would be treated not as a sovereign, but as a criminal. +Quite lately, happening to meet a wounded French colonel on the +road, Rostov had maintained with heat that peace was impossible +between a legitimate sovereign and the criminal Bonaparte. Rostov +was therefore unpleasantly struck by the presence of French officers +in Boris' lodging, dressed in uniforms he had been accustomed to see +from quite a different point of view from the outposts of the flank. +As soon as he noticed a French officer, who thrust his head out of the +door, that warlike feeling of hostility which he always experienced at +the sight of the enemy suddenly seized him. He stopped at the +threshold and asked in Russian whether Drubetskoy lived there. +Boris, hearing a strange voice in the anteroom, came out to meet +him. An expression of annoyance showed itself for a moment on his face +on first recognizing Rostov. + +"Ah, it's you? Very glad, very glad to see you," he said, however, +coming toward him with a smile. But Rostov had noticed his first +impulse. + +"I've come at a bad time I think. I should not have come, but I have +business," he said coldly. + +"No, I only wonder how you managed to get away from your regiment. +Dans un moment je suis a vous,"* he said, answering someone who called +him. + + +*"In a minute I shall be at your disposal." + + +"I see I'm intruding," Rostov repeated. + +The look of annoyance had already disappeared from Boris' face: +having evidently reflected and decided how to act, he very quietly +took both Rostov's hands and led him into the next room. His eyes, +looking serenely and steadily at Rostov, seemed to be veiled by +something, as if screened by blue spectacles of conventionality. So it +seemed to Rostov. + +"Oh, come now! As if you could come at a wrong time!" said Boris, +and he led him into the room where the supper table was laid and +introduced him to his guests, explaining that he was not a civilian, +but an hussar officer, and an old friend of his. + +"Count Zhilinski--le Comte N. N.--le Capitaine S. S.," said he, +naming his guests. Rostov looked frowningly at the Frenchmen, bowed +reluctantly, and remained silent. + +Zhilinski evidently did not receive this new Russian person very +willingly into his circle and did not speak to Rostov. Boris did not +appear to notice the constraint the newcomer produced and, with the +same pleasant composure and the same veiled look in his eyes with +which he had met Rostov, tried to enliven the conversation. One of the +Frenchmen, with the politeness characteristic of his countrymen, +addressed the obstinately taciturn Rostov, saying that the latter +had probably come to Tilsit to see the Emperor. + +"No, I came on business," replied Rostov, briefly. + +Rostov had been out of humor from the moment he noticed the look +of dissatisfaction on Boris' face, and as always happens to those in a +bad humor, it seemed to him that everyone regarded him with aversion +and that he was in everybody's way. He really was in their way, for he +alone took no part in the conversation which again became general. The +looks the visitors cast on him seemed to say: "And what is he +sitting here for?" He rose and went up to Boris. + +"Anyhow, I'm in your way," he said in a low tone. "Come and talk +over my business and I'll go away." + +"Oh, no, not at all," said Boris. "But if you are tired, come and +lie down in my room and have a rest." + +"Yes, really..." + +They went into the little room where Boris slept. Rostov, without +sitting down, began at once, irritably (as if Boris were to blame in +some way) telling him about Denisov's affair, asking him whether, +through his general, he could and would intercede with the Emperor +on Denisov's behalf and get Denisov's petition handed in. When he +and Boris were alone, Rostov felt for the first time that he could not +look Boris in the face without a sense of awkwardness. Boris, with one +leg crossed over the other and stroking his left hand with the slender +fingers of his right, listened to Rostov as a general listens to the +report of a subordinate, now looking aside and now gazing straight +into Rostov's eyes with the same veiled look. Each time this +happened Rostov felt uncomfortable and cast down his eyes. + +"I have heard of such cases and know that His Majesty is very severe +in such affairs. I think it would be best not to bring it before the +Emperor, but to apply to the commander of the corps.... But in +general, I think..." + +"So you don't want to do anything? Well then, say so!" Rostov almost +shouted, not looking Boris in the face. + +Boris smiled. + +"On the contrary, I will do what I can. Only I thought..." + +At that moment Zhilinski's voice was heard calling Boris. + +"Well then, go, go, go..." said Rostov, and refusing supper and +remaining alone in the little room, he walked up and down for a long +time, hearing the lighthearted French conversation from the next room. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +Rostov had come to Tilsit the day least suitable for a petition on +Denisov's behalf. He could not himself go to the general in attendance +as he was in mufti and had come to Tilsit without permission to do so, +and Boris, even had he wished to, could not have done so on the +following day. On that day, June 27, the preliminaries of peace were +signed. The Emperors exchanged decorations: Alexander received the +Cross of the Legion of Honor and Napoleon the Order of St. Andrew of +the First Degree, and a dinner had been arranged for the evening, +given by a battalion of the French Guards to the Preobrazhensk +battalion. The Emperors were to be present at that banquet. + +Rostov felt so ill at ease and uncomfortable with Boris that, when +the latter looked in after supper, he pretended to be asleep, and +early next morning went away, avoiding Boris. In his civilian +clothes and a round hat, he wandered about the town, staring at the +French and their uniforms and at the streets and houses where the +Russian and French Emperors were staying. In a square he saw tables +being set up and preparations made for the dinner; he saw the +Russian and French colors draped from side to side of the streets, +with hugh monograms A and N. In the windows of the houses also flags +and bunting were displayed. + +"Boris doesn't want to help me and I don't want to ask him. That's +settled," thought Nicholas. "All is over between us, but I won't leave +here without having done all I can for Denisov and certainly not +without getting his letter to the Emperor. The Emperor!... He is +here!" thought Rostov, who had unconsciously returned to the house +where Alexander lodged. + +Saddled horses were standing before the house and the suite were +assembling, evidently preparing for the Emperor to come out. + +"I may see him at any moment," thought Rostov. "If only I were to +hand the letter direct to him and tell him all... could they really +arrest me for my civilian clothes? Surely not! He would understand +on whose side justice lies. He understands everything, knows +everything. Who can be more just, more magnanimous than he? And even +if they did arrest me for being here, what would it matter?" thought +he, looking at an officer who was entering the house the Emperor +occupied. "After all, people do go in.... It's all nonsense! I'll go +in and hand the letter to the Emperor myself so much the worse for +Drubetskoy who drives me to it!" And suddenly with a determination +he himself did not expect, Rostov felt for the letter in his pocket +and went straight to the house. + +"No, I won't miss my opportunity now, as I did after Austerlitz," he +thought, expecting every moment to meet the monarch, and conscious +of the blood that rushed to his heart at the thought. "I will fall +at his feet and beseech him. He will lift me up, will listen, and will +even thank me. 'I am happy when I can do good, but to remedy injustice +is the greatest happiness,'" Rostov fancied the sovereign saying. +And passing people who looked after him with curiosity, he entered the +porch of the Emperor's house. + +A broad staircase led straight up from the entry, and to the right +he saw a closed door. Below, under the staircase, was a door leading +to the lower floor. + +"Whom do you want?" someone inquired. + +"To hand in a letter, a petition, to His Majesty," said Nicholas, +with a tremor in his voice. + +"A petition? This way, to the officer on duty" (he was +shown the door leading downstairs), "only it won't be accepted." + +On hearing this indifferent voice, Rostov grew frightened at what he +was doing; the thought of meeting the Emperor at any moment was so +fascinating and consequently so alarming that he was ready to run +away, but the official who had questioned him opened the door, and +Rostov entered. + +A short stout man of about thirty, in white breeches and high +boots and a batiste shirt that he had evidently only just put on, +standing in that room, and his valet was buttoning on to the back of +his breeches a new pair of handsome silk-embroidered braces that, +for some reason, attracted Rostov's attention. This man was was +speaking to someone in the adjoining room. + +"A good figure and in her first bloom," he was saying, but on seeing +Rostov, he stopped short and frowned. + +"What is it? A petition?" + +"What is it?" asked the person in the other room. + +"Another petitioner," answered the man with the braces. + +"Tell him to come later. He'll be coming out directly, we must go." + +"Later... later! Tomorrow. It's too late..." + +Rostov turned and was about to go, but the man in the braces stopped +him. + +"Whom have you come from? Who are you?" + +"I come from Major Denisov," answered Rostov. + +"Are you an officer?" + +"Lieutenant Count Rostov." + +"What audacity! Hand it in through your commander. And go along with +you... go," and he continued to put on the uniform the valet handed +him. + +Rostov went back into the hall and noticed that in the porch there +were many officers and generals in full parade uniform, whom he had to +pass. + +Cursing his temerity, his heart sinking at the thought of finding +himself at any moment face to face with the Emperor and being put to +shame and arrested in his presence, fully alive now to the impropriety +of his conduct and repenting of it, Rostov, with downcast eyes, was +making his way out of the house through the brilliant suite when a +familiar voice called him and a hand detained him. + +"What are you doing here, sir, in civilian dress?" asked a deep +voice. + +It was a cavalry general who had obtained the Emperor's special +favor during this campaign, and who had formerly commanded the +division in which Rostov was serving. + +Rostov, in dismay, began justifying himself, but seeing the +kindly, jocular face of the general, he took him aside and in an +excited voice told him the whole affair, asking him to intercede for +Denisov, whom the general knew. Having heard Rostov to the end, the +general shook his head gravely. + +"I'm sorry, sorry for that fine fellow. Give me the letter." + +Hardly had Rostov handed him the letter and finished explaining +Denisov's case, when hasty steps and the jingling of spurs were +heard on the stairs, and the general, leaving him, went to the +porch. The gentlemen of the Emperor's suite ran down the stairs and +went to their horses. Hayne, the same groom who had been at +Austerlitz, led up the Emperor's horse, and the faint creak of a +footstep Rostov knew at once was heard on the stairs. Forgetting the +danger of being recognized, Rostov went close to the porch, together +with some inquisitive civilians, and again, after two years, saw those +features he adored: that same face and same look and step, and the +same union of majesty and mildness.... And the feeling of enthusiasm +and love for his sovereign rose again in Rostov's soul in all its +old force. In the uniform of the Preobrazhensk regiment--white +chamois-leather breeches and high boots--and wearing a star Rostov did +not know (it was that of the Legion d'honneur), the monarch came out +into the porch, putting on his gloves and carrying his hat under his +arm. He stopped and looked about him, brightening everything around by +his glance. He spoke a few words to some of the generals, and, +recognizing the former commander of Rostov's division, smiled and +beckoned to him. + +All the suite drew back and Rostov saw the general talking for +some time to the Emperor. + +The Emperor said a few words to him and took a step toward his +horse. Again the crowd of members of the suite and street gazers +(among whom was Rostov) moved nearer to the Emperor. Stopping beside +his horse, with his hand on the saddle, the Emperor turned to the +cavalry general and said in a loud voice, evidently wishing to be +heard by all: + +"I cannot do it, General. I cannot, because the law is stronger than +I," and he raised his foot to the stirrup. + +The general bowed his head respectfully, and the monarch mounted and +rode down the street at a gallop. Beside himself with enthusiasm, +Rostov ran after him with the crowd. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +The Emperor rode to the square where, facing one another, a +battalion of the Preobrazhensk regiment stood on the right and a +battalion of the French Guards in their bearskin caps on the left. + +As the Tsar rode up to one flank of the battalions, which +presented arms, another group of horsemen galloped up to the +opposite flank, and at the head of them Rostov recognized Napoleon. It +could be no one else. He came at a gallop, wearing a small hat, a blue +uniform open over a white vest, and the St. Andrew ribbon over his +shoulder. He was riding a very fine thoroughbred gray Arab horse +with a crimson gold-embroidered saddlecloth. On approaching +Alexander he raised his hat, and as he did so, Rostov, with his +cavalryman's eye, could not help noticing that Napoleon did not sit +well or firmly in the saddle. The battalions shouted "Hurrah!" and +"Vive l'Empereur!" Napoleon said something to Alexander, and both +Emperors dismounted and took each other's hands. Napoleon's face +wore an unpleasant and artificial smile. Alexander was saying +something affable to him. + +In spite of the trampling of the French gendarmes' horses, which +were pushing back the crowd, Rostov kept his eyes on every movement of +Alexander and Bonaparte. It struck him as a surprise that Alexander +treated Bonaparte as an equal and that the latter was quite at ease +with the Tsar, as if such relations with an Emperor were an everyday +matter to him. + +Alexander and Napoleon, with the long train of their suites, +approached the right flank of the Preobrazhensk battalion and came +straight up to the crowd standing there. The crowd unexpectedly +found itself so close to the Emperors that Rostov, standing in the +front row, was afraid he might be recognized. + +"Sire, I ask your permission to present the Legion of Honor to the +bravest of your soldiers," said a sharp, precise voice, articulating +every letter. + +This was said by the undersized Napoleon, looking up straight into +Alexander's eyes. Alexander listened attentively to what was said to +him and, bending his head, smiled pleasantly. + +"To him who has borne himself most bravely in this last war," +added Napoleon, accentuating each syllable, as with a composure and +assurance exasperating to Rostov, he ran his eyes over the Russian +ranks drawn up before him, who all presented arms with their eyes +fixed on their Emperor. + +"Will Your Majesty allow me to consult the colonel?" said +Alexander and took a few hasty steps toward Prince Kozlovski, the +commander of the battalion. + +Bonaparte meanwhile began taking the glove off his small white hand, +tore it in doing so, and threw it away. An aide-de-camp behind him +rushed forward and picked it up. + +"To whom shall it be given?" the Emperor Alexander asked +Koslovski, in Russian in a low voice. + +"To whomever Your Majesty commands." + +The Emperor knit his brows with dissatisfaction and, glancing +back, remarked: + +"But we must give him an answer." + +Kozlovski scanned the ranks resolutely and included Rostov in his +scrutiny. + +"Can it be me?" thought Rostov. + +"Lazarev!" the colonel called, with a frown, and Lazarev, the +first soldier in the rank, stepped briskly forward. + +"Where are you off to? Stop here!" voices whispered to Lazarev who +did not know where to go. Lazarev stopped, casting a sidelong look +at his colonel in alarm. His face twitched, as often happens to +soldiers called before the ranks. + +Napoleon slightly turned his head, and put his plump little hand out +behind him as if to take something. The members of his suite, guessing +at once what he wanted, moved about and whispered as they passed +something from one to another, and a page--the same one Rostov had +seen the previous evening at Boris'--ran forward and, bowing +respectfully over the outstretched hand and not keeping it waiting a +moment, laid in it an Order on a red ribbon. Napoleon, without +looking, pressed two fingers together and the badge was between +them. Then he approached Lazarev (who rolled his eyes and persistently +gazed at his own monarch), looked round at the Emperor Alexander to +imply that what he was now doing was done for the sake of his ally, +and the small white hand holding the Order touched one of Lazarev's +buttons. It was as if Napoleon knew that it was only necessary for his +hand to deign to touch that soldier's breast for the soldier to be +forever happy, rewarded, and distinguished from everyone else in the +world. Napoleon merely laid the cross on Lazarev's breast and, +dropping his hand, turned toward Alexander as though sure that the +cross would adhere there. And it really did. + +Officious hands, Russian and French, immediately seized the cross +and fastened it to the uniform. Lazarev glanced morosely at the little +man with white hands who was doing something to him and, still +standing motionless presenting arms, looked again straight into +Alexander's eyes, as if asking whether he should stand there, or go +away, or do something else. But receiving no orders, he remained for +some time in that rigid position. + +The Emperors remounted and rode away. The Preobrazhensk battalion, +breaking rank, mingled with the French Guards and sat down at the +tables prepared for them. + +Lazarev sat in the place of honor. Russian and French officers +embraced him, congratulated him, and pressed his hands. Crowds of +officers and civilians drew near merely to see him. A rumble of +Russian and French voices and laughter filled the air round the tables +in the square. Two officers with flushed faces, looking cheerful and +happy, passed by Rostov. + +"What d'you think of the treat? All on silver plate," one of them +was saying. "Have you seen Lazarev?" + +"I have." + +"Tomorrow, I hear, the Preobrazhenskis will give them a dinner." + +"Yes, but what luck for Lazarev! Twelve hundred francs' pension +for life." + +"Here's a cap, lads!" shouted a Preobrazhensk soldier, donning a +shaggy French cap. + +"It's a fine thing! First-rate!" + +"Have you heard the password?" asked one Guards' officer of another. +"The day before yesterday it was 'Napoleon, France, bravoure'; +yesterday, 'Alexandre, Russie, grandeur.' One day our Emperor gives it +and next day Napoleon. Tomorrow our Emperor will send a St. George's +Cross to the bravest of the French Guards. It has to be done. He +must respond in kind." + +Boris, too, with his friend Zhilinski, came to see the Preobrazhensk +banquet. On his way back, he noticed Rostov standing by the corner +of a house. + +"Rostov! How d'you do? We missed one another," he said, and could +not refrain from asking what was the matter, so strangely dismal and +troubled was Rostov's face. + +"Nothing, nothing," replied Rostov. + +"You'll call round?" + +"Yes, I will." + +Rostov stood at that corner for a long time, watching the feast from +a distance. In his mind, a painful process was going on +which he could not bring to a conclusion. Terrible doubts rose in +his soul. Now he remembered Denisov with his changed expression, his +submission, and the whole hospital, with arms and legs torn off and +its dirt and disease. So vividly did he recall that hospital stench of +dead flesh that he looked round to see where the smell came from. Next +he thought of that self-satisfied Bonaparte, with his small white +hand, who was now an Emperor, liked and respected by Alexander. Then +why those severed arms and legs and those dead men?... Then again he +thought of Lazarev rewarded and Denisov punished and unpardoned. He +caught himself harboring such strange thoughts that he was frightened. + +The smell of the food the Preobrazhenskis were eating and a sense of +hunger recalled him from these reflections; he had to get something to +eat before going away. He went to a hotel he had noticed that morning. +There he found so many people, among them officers who, like +himself, had come in civilian clothes, that he had difficulty in +getting a dinner. Two officers of his own division joined him. The +conversation naturally turned on the peace. The officers, his +comrades, like most of the army, were dissatisfied with the peace +concluded after the battle of Friedland. They said that had we held +out a little longer Napoleon would have been done for, as his troops +had neither provisions nor ammunition. Nicholas ate and drank (chiefly +the latter) in silence. He finished a couple of bottles of wine by +himself. The process in his mind went on tormenting him without +reaching a conclusion. He feared to give way to his thoughts, yet +could not get rid of them. Suddenly, on one of the officers' saying +that it was humiliating to look at the French, Rostov began shouting +with uncalled-for wrath, and therefore much to the surprise of the +officers: + +"How can you judge what's best?" he cried, the blood suddenly +rushing to his face. "How can you judge the Emperor's actions? What +right have we to argue? We cannot comprehend either the Emperor's or +his actions!" + +"But I never said a word about the Emperor!" said the officer, +justifying himself, and unable to understand Rostov's outburst, except +on the supposition that he was drunk. + +But Rostov did not listen to him. + +"We are not diplomatic officials, we are soldiers and nothing more," +he went on. "If we are ordered to die, we must die. If we're punished, +it means that we have deserved it, it's not for us to judge. If the +Emperor pleases to recognize Bonaparte as Emperor and to conclude an +alliance with him, it means that that is the right thing to do. If +once we begin judging and arguing about everything, nothing sacred +will be left! That way we shall be saying there is no God--nothing!" +shouted Nicholas, banging the table--very little to the point as it +seemed to his listeners, but quite relevantly to the course of his own +thoughts. + +"Our business is to do our duty, to fight and not to think! That's +all...." said he. + +"And to drink," said one of the officers, not wishing to quarrel. + +"Yes, and to drink," assented Nicholas. "Hullo there! Another +bottle!" he shouted. + +In 1808 the Emperor Alexander went to Erfurt for a fresh interview +with the Emperor Napoleon, and in the upper circles of Petersburg +there was much talk of the grandeur of this important meeting. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +In 1809 the intimacy between "the world's two arbiters," as Napoleon +and Alexander were called, was such that when Napoleon declared war on +Austria a Russian corps crossed the frontier to co-operate with our +old enemy Bonaparte against our old ally the Emperor of Austria, and +in court circles the possibility of marriage between Napoleon and +one of Alexander's sisters was spoken of. But besides considerations +of foreign policy, the attention of Russian society was at that time +keenly directed on the internal changes that were being undertaken +in all the departments of government. + +Life meanwhile--real life, with its essential interests of health +and sickness, toil and rest, and its intellectual interests in +thought, science, poetry, music, love, friendship, hatred, and +passions--went on as usual, independently of and apart from +political friendship or enmity with Napoleon Bonaparte and from all +the schemes of reconstruction. + + + + +BOOK SIX: 1808 --10 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Prince Andrew had spent two years continuously in the country. + +All the plans Pierre had attempted on his estates--and constantly +changing from one thing to another had never accomplished--were +carried out by Prince Andrew without display and without perceptible +difficulty. + +He had in the highest degree a practical tenacity which Pierre +lacked, and without fuss or strain on his part this set things going. + +On one of his estates the three hundred serfs were liberated and +became free agricultural laborers--this being one of the first +examples of the kind in Russia. On other estates the serfs' compulsory +labor was commuted for a quitrent. A trained midwife was engaged for +Bogucharovo at his expense, and a priest was paid to teach reading and +writing to the children of the peasants and household serfs. + +Prince Andrew spent half his time at Bald Hills with his father +and his son, who was still in the care of nurses. The other half he +spent in "Bogucharovo Cloister," as his father called Prince +Andrew's estate. Despite the indifference to the affairs of the +world he had expressed to Pierre, he diligently followed all that went +on, received many books, and to his surprise noticed that when he or +his father had visitors from Petersburg, the very vortex of life, +these people lagged behind himself--who never left the country--in +knowledge of what was happening in home and foreign affairs. + +Besides being occupied with his estates and reading a great +variety of books, Prince Andrew was at this time busy with a +critical of survey our last two unfortunate campaigns, and with +drawing up a proposal for a reform of the army rules and regulations. + +In the spring of 1809 he went to visit the Ryazan estates which +had been inherited by his son, whose guardian he was. + +Warmed by the spring sunshine he sat in the caleche looking at the +new grass, the first leaves on the birches, and the first puffs of +white spring clouds floating across the clear blue sky. He was not +thinking of anything, but looked absent-mindedly and cheerfully from +side to side. + +They crossed the ferry where he had talked with Pierre the year +before. They went through the muddy village, past threshing floors and +green fields of winter rye, downhill where snow still lodged near +the bridge, uphill where the clay had been liquefied by the rain, past +strips of stubble land and bushes touched with green here and there, +and into a birch forest growing on both sides of the road. In the +forest it was almost hot, no wind could be felt. The birches with +their sticky green leaves were motionless, and lilac-colored flowers +and the first blades of green grass were pushing up and lifting last +year's leaves. The coarse evergreen color of the small fir trees +scattered here and there among the birches was an unpleasant +reminder of winter. On entering the forest the horses began to snort +and sweated visibly. + +Peter the footman made some remark to the coachman; the latter +assented. But apparently the coachman's sympathy was not enough for +Peter, and he turned on the box toward his master. + +"How pleasant it is, your excellency!" he said with a respectful +smile. + +"What?" + +"It's pleasant, your excellency!" + +"What is he talking about?" thought Prince Andrew. "Oh, the +spring, I suppose," he thought as he turned round. "Yes, really +everything is green already.... How early! The birches and cherry +and alders too are coming out.... But the oaks show no sign yet. Ah, +here is one oak!" + + At the edge of the road stood an oak. Probably ten times the age of +the birches that formed the forest, it was ten times as thick and +twice as tall as they. It was an enormous tree, its girth twice as +great as a man could embrace, and evidently long ago some of its +branches had been broken off and its bark scarred. With its huge +ungainly limbs sprawling unsymmetrically, and its gnarled hands and +fingers, it stood an aged, stern, and scornful monster among the +smiling birch trees. Only the dead-looking evergreen firs dotted about +in the forest, and this oak, refused to yield to the charm of spring +or notice either the spring or the sunshine. + +"Spring, love, happiness!" this oak seemed to say. "Are you not +weary of that stupid, meaningless, constantly repeated fraud? Always +the same and always a fraud? There is no spring, no sun, no happiness! +Look at those cramped dead firs, ever the same, and at me too, +sticking out my broken and barked fingers just where they have +grown, whether from my back or my sides: as they have grown so I +stand, and I do not believe in your hopes and your lies." + +As he passed through the forest Prince Andrew turned several times +to look at that oak, as if expecting something from it. Under the oak, +too, were flowers and grass, but it stood among them scowling, +rigid, misshapen, and grim as ever. + +"Yes, the oak is right, a thousand times right," thought Prince +Andrew. "Let others--the young--yield afresh to that fraud, but we +know life, our life is finished!" + +A whole sequence of new thoughts, hopeless but mournfully +pleasant, rose in his soul in connection with that tree. During this +journey he, as it were, considered his life afresh and arrived at +his old conclusion, restful in its hopelessness: that it was not for +him to begin anything anew--but that he must live out his life, +content to do no harm, and not disturbing himself or desiring +anything. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Prince Andrew had to see the Marshal of the Nobility for the +district in connection with the affairs of the Ryazan estate of +which he was trustee. This Marshal was Count Ilya Rostov, and in the +middle of May Prince Andrew went to visit him. + +It was now hot spring weather. The whole forest was already +clothed in green. It was dusty and so hot that on passing near water +one longed to bathe. + +Prince Andrew, depressed and preoccupied with the business about +which he had to speak to the Marshal, was driving up the avenue in the +grounds of the Rostovs' house at Otradnoe. He heard merry girlish +cries behind some trees on the right and saw a group of girls running to +cross the path of his caleche. Ahead of the rest and nearer to him ran +a dark-haired, remarkably slim, pretty girl in a yellow chintz +dress, with a white handkerchief on her head from under which loose +locks of hair escaped. The girl was shouting something but, seeing +that he was a stranger, ran back laughing without looking at him. + +Suddenly, he did not know why, he felt a pang. The day was so +beautiful, the sun so bright, everything around so gay, but that +slim pretty girl did not know, or wish to know, of his existence and +was contented and cheerful in her own separate--probably foolish- +but bright and happy life. "What is she so glad about? What is she +thinking of? Not of the military regulations or of the arrangement +of the Ryazan serfs' quitrents. Of what is she thinking? Why is she so +happy?" Prince Andrew asked himself with instinctive curiosity. + +In 1809 Count Ilya Rostov was living at Otradnoe just as he had done +in former years, that is, entertaining almost the whole province +with hunts, theatricals, dinners, and music. He was glad to see Prince +Andrew, as he was to see any new visitor, and insisted on his +staying the night. + +During the dull day, in the course of which he was entertained by +his elderly hosts and by the more important of the visitors (the old +count's house was crowded on account of an approaching name day), +Prince Andrew repeatedly glanced at Natasha, gay and laughing among +the younger members of the company, and asked himself each time, "What +is she thinking about? Why is she so glad?" + +That night, alone in new surroundings, he was long unable to +sleep. He read awhile and then put out his candle, but relit it. It +was hot in the room, the inside shutters of which were closed. He +was cross with the stupid old man (as he called Rostov), who had +made him stay by assuring him that some necessary documents had not +yet arrived from town, and he was vexed with himself for having +stayed. + +He got up and went to the window to open it. As soon as he opened +the shutters the moonlight, as if it had long been watching for +this, burst into the room. He opened the casement. The night was +fresh, bright, and very still. Just before the window was a row of +pollard trees, looking black on one side and with a silvery light on +the other. Beneath the trees grewsome kind of lush, wet, bushy +vegetation with silver-lit leaves and stems here and there. Farther +back beyond the dark trees a roof glittered with dew, to the right was +a leafy tree with brilliantly white trunk and branches, and above it +shone the moon, nearly at its full, in a pale, almost starless, spring +sky. Prince Andrew leaned his elbows on the window ledge and his +eyes rested on that sky. + +His room was on the first floor. Those in the rooms above were +also awake. He heard female voices overhead. + +"Just once more," said a girlish voice above him which Prince Andrew +recognized at once. + +"But when are you coming to bed?" replied another voice. + +"I won't, I can't sleep, what's the use? Come now for the last +time." + + Two girlish voices sang a musical passage--the end of some song. + +"Oh, how lovely! Now go to sleep, and there's an end of it." + +"You go to sleep, but I can't," said the first voice, coming +nearer to the window. She was evidently leaning right out, for the +rustle of her dress and even her breathing could be heard. +Everything was stone-still, like the moon and its light and the +shadows. Prince Andrew, too, dared not stir, for fear of betraying his +unintentional presence. + +"Sonya! Sonya!" he again heard the first speaker. "Oh, how can you +sleep? Only look how glorious it is! Ah, how glorious! Do wake up, +Sonya!" she said almost with tears in her voice. "There never, never +was such a lovely night before!" + +Sonya made some reluctant reply. + +"Do just come and see what a moon!... Oh, how lovely! Come +here.... Darling, sweetheart, come here! There, you see? I feel like +sitting down on my heels, putting my arms round my knees like this, +straining tight, as tight as possible, and flying away! Like this...." + +"Take care, you'll fall out." + +He heard the sound of a scuffle and Sonya's disapproving voice: +"It's past one o'clock." + +"Oh, you only spoil things for me. All right, go, go!" + +Again all was silent, but Prince Andrew knew she was still sitting +there. From time to time he heard a soft rustle and at times a sigh. + +"O God, O God! What does it mean?" she suddenly exclaimed. "To bed +then, if it must be!" and she slammed the casement. + +"For her I might as well not exist!" thought Prince Andrew while +he listened to her voice, for some reason expecting yet fearing that +she might say something about him. "There she is again! As if it +were on purpose," thought he. + +In his soul there suddenly arose such an unexpected turmoil of +youthful thoughts and hopes, contrary to the whole tenor of his +life, that unable to explain his condition to himself he lay down +and fell asleep at once. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Next morning, having taken leave of no one but the count, and not +waiting for the ladies to appear, Prince Andrew set off for home. + +It was already the beginning of June when on his return journey he +drove into the birch forest where the gnarled old oak had made so +strange and memorable an impression on him. In the forest the +harness bells sounded yet more muffled than they had done six weeks +before, for now all was thick, shady, and dense, and the young firs +dotted about in the forest did not jar on the general beauty but, +lending themselves to the mood around, were delicately green with +fluffy young shoots. + +The whole day had been hot. Somewhere a storm was gathering, but +only a small cloud had scattered some raindrops lightly, sprinkling +the road and the sappy leaves. The left side of the forest was dark in +the shade, the right side glittered in the sunlight, wet and shiny and +scarcely swayed by the breeze. Everything was in blossom, the +nightingales trilled, and their voices reverberated now near, now +far away. + +"Yes, here in this forest was that oak with which I agreed," thought +Prince Andrew. "But where is it?" he again wondered, gazing at the +left side of the road, and without recognizing it he looked with +admiration at the very oak he sought. The old oak, quite transfigured, +spreading out a canopy of sappy dark-green foliage, stood rapt and +slightly trembling in the rays of the evening sun. Neither gnarled +fingers nor old scars nor old doubts and sorrows were any of them in +evidence now. Through the hard century-old bark, even where there were +no twigs, leaves had sprouted such as one could hardly believe the old +veteran could have produced. + +"Yes, it is the same oak," thought Prince Andrew, and all at once he +was seized by an unreasoning springtime feeling of joy and renewal. +All the best moments of his life suddenly rose to his memory. +Austerlitz with the lofty heavens, his wife's dead reproachful face, +Pierre at the ferry, that girl thrilled by the beauty of the night, +and that night itself and the moon, and.... all this rushed suddenly +to his mind. + +"No, life is not over at thirty-one!" Prince Andrew suddenly decided +finally and decisively. "It is not enough for me to know what I have +in me--everyone must know it: Pierre, and that young girl who wanted +to fly away into the sky, everyone must know me, so that my life may +not be lived for myself alone while others live so apart from it, +but so that it may be reflected in them all, and they and I may live +in harmony!" + + +On reaching home Prince Andrew decided to go to Petersburg that +autumn and found all sorts of reasons for this decision. A whole +serics of sensible and logical considerations showing it to be +essential for him to go to Petersburg, and even to re-enter the +service, kept springing up in his mind. He could not now understand +how he could ever even have doubted the necessity of taking an +active share in life, just as a month before he had not understood how +the idea of leaving the quiet country could ever enter his head. It +now seemed clear to him that all his experience of life must be +senselessly wasted unless he applied it to some kind of work and again +played an active part in life. He did not even remember how +formerly, on the strength of similar wretched logical arguments, it +had seemed obvious that he would be degrading himself if he now, after +the lessons he had had in life, allowed himself to believe in the +possibility of being useful and in the possibility of happiness or +love. Now reason suggested quite the opposite. After that journey to +Ryazan he found the country dull; his former pursuits no longer +interested him, and often when sitting alone in his study he got up, +went to the mirror, and gazed a long time at his own face. Then he +would turn away to the portrait of his dead Lise, who with hair curled +a la grecque looked tenderly and gaily at him out of the gilt frame. +She did not now say those former terrible words to him, but looked +simply, merrily, and inquisitively at him. And Prince Andrew, crossing +his arms behind him, long paced the room, now frowning, now smiling, +as he reflected on those irrational, inexpressible thoughts, secret as +a crime, which altered his whole life and were connected with +Pierre, with fame, with the girl at the window, the oak, and woman's +beauty and love. And if anyone came into his room at such moments he +was particularly cold, stern, and above all unpleasantly logical. + +"My dear," Princess Mary entering at such a moment would say, +"little Nicholas can't go out today, it's very cold." + +"If it were hot," Prince Andrew would reply at such times very dryly +to his sister, "he could go out in his smock, but as it is cold he +must wear warm clothes, which were designed for that purpose. That +is what follows from the fact that it is cold; and not that a child +who needs fresh air should remain at home," he would add with +extreme logic, as if punishing someone for those secret illogical +emotions that stirred within him. + +At such moments Princess Mary would think how intellectual work +dries men up. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Prince Andrew arrived in Petersburg in August, 1809. It was the time +when the youthful Speranski was at the zenith of his fame and his +reforms were being pushed forward with the greatest energy. That +same August the Emperor was thrown from his caleche, injured his +leg, and remained three weeks at Peterhof, receiving Speranski every +day and no one else. At that time the two famous decrees were being +prepared that so agitated society--abolishing court ranks and +introducing examinations to qualify for the grades of Collegiate +Assessor and State Councilor--and not merely these but a whole state +constitution, intended to change the existing order of government in +Russia: legal, administrative, and financial, from the Council of +State down to the district tribunals. Now those vague liberal dreams +with which the Emperor Alexander had ascended the throne, and which he +had tried to put into effect with the aid of his associates, +Czartoryski, Novosiltsev, Kochubey, and Strogonov--whom he himself +in jest had called his Comite de salut public--were taking shape and +being realized. + +Now all these men were replaced by Speranski on the civil side, +and Arakcheev on the military. Soon after his arrival Prince Andrew, +as a gentleman of the chamber, presented himself at court and at a +levee. The Emperor, though he met him twice, did not favor him with +a single word. It had always seemed to Prince Andrew before that he +was antipathetic to the Emperor and that the latter disliked his +face and personality generally, and in the cold, repellent glance +the Emperor gave him, he now found further confirmation of this +surmise. The courtiers explained the Emperor's neglect of him by His +Majesty's displeasure at Bolkonski's not having served since 1805. + +"I know myself that one cannot help one's sympathies and +antipathies," thought Prince Andrew, "so it will not do to present +my proposal for the reform of the army regulations to the Emperor +personally, but the project will speak for itself." + +He mentioned what he had written to an old field marshal, a friend +of his father's. The field marshal made an appointment to see him, +received him graciously, and promised to inform the Emperor. A few +days later Prince Andrew received notice that he was to go to see +the Minister of War, Count Arakcheev. + + +On the appointed day Prince Andrew entered Count Arakcheev's waiting +room at nine in the morning. + +He did not know Arakcheev personally, had never seen him, and all he +had heard of him inspired him with but little respect for the man. + +"He is Minister of War, a man trusted by the Emperor, and I need not +concern myself about his personal qualities: he has been +commissioned to consider my project, so he alone can get it +adopted," thought Prince Andrew as he waited among a number of +important and unimportant people in Count Arakcheev's waiting room. + +During his service, chiefly as an adjutant, Prince Andrew had seen +the anterooms of many important men, and the different types of such +rooms were well known to him. Count Arakcheev's anteroom had quite a +special character. The faces of the unimportant people awaiting +their turn for an audience showed embarrassment and servility; the +faces of those of higher rank expressed a common feeling of +awkwardness, covered by a mask of unconcern and ridicule of +themselves, their situation, and the person for whom they were +waiting. Some walked thoughtfully up and down, others whispered and +laughed. Prince Andrew heard the nickname "Sila Andreevich" and the +words, "Uncle will give it to us hot," in reference to Count +Arakcheev. One general (an important personage), evidently feeling +offended at having to wait so long, sat crossing and uncrossing his +legs and smiling contemptuously to himself. + +But the moment the door opened one feeling alone appeared on all +faces--that of fear. Prince Andrew for the second time asked the +adjutant on duty to take in his name, but received an ironical look +and was told that his turn would come in due course. After some others +had been shown in and out of the minister's room by the adjutant on +duty, an officer who struck Prince Andrew by his humiliated and +frightened air was admitted at that terrible door. This officer's +audience lasted a long time. Then suddenly the grating sound of a +harsh voice was heard from the other side of the door, and the +officer--with pale face and trembling lips--came out and passed +through the waiting room, clutching his head. + +After this Prince Andrew was conducted to the door and the officer +on duty said in a whisper, "To the right, at the window." + +Prince Andrew entered a plain tidy room and saw at the table a man +of forty with a long waist, a long closely cropped head, deep +wrinkles, scowling brows above dull greenish-hazel eyes and an +overhanging red nose. Arakcheev turned his head toward him without +looking at him. + +"What is your petition?" asked Arakcheev. + +"I am not petitioning, your excellency," returned Prince Andrew +quietly. + +Arakcheev's eyes turned toward him. + +"Sit down," said he. "Prince Bolkonski?" + +"I am not petitioning about anything. His Majesty the Emperor has +deigned to send your excellency a project submitted by me..." + +"You see, my dear sir, I have read your project," interrupted +Arakcheev, uttering only the first words amiably and then--again +without looking at Prince Andrew--relapsing gradually into a tone of +grumbling contempt. "You are proposing new military laws? There are +many laws but no one to carry out the old ones. Nowadays everybody +designs laws, it is easier writing than doing." + +"I came at His Majesty the Emperor's wish to learn from your +excellency how you propose to deal with the memorandum I have +presented," said Prince Andrew politely. + +"I have endorsed a resolution on your memorandum and sent it to +the committee. I do not approve of it," said Arakcheev, rising and +taking a paper from his writing table. "Here!" and he handed it to +Prince Andrew. + +Across the paper was scrawled in pencil, without capital letters, +misspelled, and without punctuation: "Unsoundly constructed because +resembles an imitation of the French military code and from the +Articles of War needlessly deviating." + +"To what committee has the memorandum been referred?" inquired +Prince Andrew. + +"To the Committee on Army Regulations, and I have recommended that +your honor should be appointed a member, but without a salary." + +Prince Andrew smiled. + +"I don't want one." + +"A member without salary," repeated Arakcheev. "I have the +honor... Eh! Call the next one! Who else is there?" he shouted, bowing +to Prince Andrew. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +While waiting for the announcement of his appointment to the +committee Prince Andrew looked up his former acquaintances, +particularly those he knew to be in power and whose aid he might need. +In Petersburg he now experienced the same feeling he had had on the +eve of a battle, when troubled by anxious curiosity and irresistibly +attracted to the ruling circles where the future, on which the fate of +millions depended, was being shaped. From the irritation of the +older men, the curiosity of the uninitiated, the reserve of the +initiated, the hurry and preoccupation of everyone, and the +innumerable committees and commissions of whose existence he learned +every day, he felt that now, in 1809, here in Petersburg a vast +civil conflict was in preparation, the commander in chief of which was +a mysterious person he did not know, but who was supposed to be a +man of genius--Speranski. And this movement of reconstruction of which +Prince Andrew had a vague idea, and Speranski its chief promoter, +began to interest him so keenly that the question of the army +regulations quickly receded to a secondary place in his consciousness. + +Prince Andrew was most favorably placed to secure good reception +in the highest and most diverse Petersburg circles of the day. The +reforming party cordially welcomed and courted him, the first place +because he was reputed to be clever and very well read, and secondly +because by liberating his serfs he had obtained the reputation of +being a liberal. The party of the old and dissatisfied, who censured +the innovations, turned to him expecting his sympathy in their +disapproval of the reforms, simply because he was the son of his +father. The feminine society world welcomed him gladly, because he was +rich, distinguished, a good match, and almost a newcomer, with a +halo of romance on account of his supposed death and the tragic loss +of his wife. Besides this the general opinion of all who had known him +previously was that he had greatly improved during these last five +years, having softened and grown more manly, lost his former +affectation, pride, and contemptuous irony, and acquired the +serenity that comes with years. People talked about him, were +interested in him, and wanted to meet him. + +The day after his interview with Count Arakcheev, Prince Andrew +spent the evening at Count Kochubey's. He told the count of his +interview with Sila Andreevich (Kochubey spoke of Arakcheev by that +nickname with the same vague irony Prince Andrew had noticed in the +Minister of War's anteroom). + +"Mon cher, even in this case you can't do without Michael +Mikhaylovich Speranski. He manages everything. I'll speak to him. He +has promised to come this evening." + +"What has Speranski to do with the army regulations?" asked Prince +Andrew. + +Kochubey shook his head smilingly, as if surprised at Bolkonski's +simplicity. + +"We were talking to him about you a few days ago," Kochubey +continued, "and about your freed plowmen." + +"Oh, is it you, Prince, who have freed your serfs?" said an old +man of Catherine's day, turning contemptuously toward Bolkonski. + +"It was a small estate that brought in no profit," replied Prince +Andrew, trying to extenuate his action so as not to irritate the old +man uselessly. + +"Afraid of being late..." said the old man, looking at Kochubey. + +"There's one thing I don't understand," he continued. "Who will plow +the land if they are set free? It is easy to write laws, but difficult +to rule.... Just the same as now--I ask you, Count--who will be +heads of the departments when everybody has to pass examinations?" + +"Those who pass the examinations, I suppose," replied Kochubey, +crossing his legs and glancing round. + +"Well, I have Pryanichnikov serving under me, a splendid man, a +priceless man, but he's sixty. Is he to go up for examination?" + +"Yes, that's a difficulty, as education is not at all general, +but..." + +Count Kochubey did not finish. He rose, took Prince Andrew by the +arm, and went to meet a tall, bald, fair man of about forty with a +large open forehead and a long face of unusual and peculiar whiteness, +who was just entering. The newcomer wore a blue swallow-tail coat with +a cross suspended from his neck and a star on his left breast. It +was Speranski. Prince Andrew recognized him at once, and felt a +throb within him, as happens at critical moments of life. Whether it +was from respect, envy, or anticipation, he did not know. +Speranski's whole figure was of a peculiar type that made him easily +recognizable. In the society in which Prince Andrew lived he had never +seen anyone who together with awkward and clumsy gestures possessed +such calmness and self-assurance; he had never seen so resolute yet +gentle an expression as that in those half-closed, rather humid +eyes, or so firm a smile that expressed nothing; nor had he heard such +a refined, smooth, soft voice; above all he had never seen such +delicate whiteness of face or hands--hands which were broad, but +very plump, soft, and white. Such whiteness and softness Prince Andrew +had only seen on the faces of soldiers who had been long in +hospital. This was Speranski, Secretary of State, reporter to the +Emperor and his companion at Erfurt, where he had more than once met +and talked with Napoleon. + +Speranski did not shift his eyes from one face to another as +people involuntarily do on entering a large company and was in no +hurry to speak. He spoke slowly, with assurance that he would be +listened to, and he looked only at the person with whom he was +conversing. + +Prince Andrew followed Speranski's every word and movement with +particular attention. As happens to some people, especially to men who +judge those near to them severely, he always on meeting anyone new- +especially anyone whom, like Speranski, he knew by reputation- +expected to discover in him the perfection of human qualities. + +Speranski told Kochubey he was sorry he had been unable to come +sooner as he had been detained at the palace. He did not say that +the Emperor had kept him, and Prince Andrew noticed this affectation +of modesty. When Kochubey introduced Prince Andrew, Speranski slowly +turned his eyes to Bolkonski with his customary smile and looked at +him in silence. + +"I am very glad to make your acquaintance. I had heard of you, as +everyone has," he said after a pause. + +Kochubey said a few words about the reception Arakcheev had given +Bolkonski. Speranski smiled more markedly. + +"The chairman of the Committee on Army Regulations is my good friend +Monsieur Magnitski," he said, fully articulating every word and +syllable, "and if you like I can put you in touch with him." He paused +at the full stop. "I hope you will find him sympathetic and ready to +co-operate in promoting all that is reasonable." + +A circle soon formed round Speranski, and the old man who had talked +about his subordinate Pryanichnikov addressed a question to him. + +Prince Andrew without joining in the conversation watched every +movement of Speranski's: this man, not long since an insignificant +divinity student, who now, Bolkonski thought, held in his hands--those +plump white hands--the fate of Russia. Prince Andrew was struck by the +extraordinarily disdainful composure with which Speranski answered the +old man. He appeared to address condescending words to him from an +immeasurable height. When the old man began to speak too loud, +Speranski smiled and said he could not judge of the advantage or +disadvantage of what pleased the sovereign. + +Having talked for a little while in the general circle, Speranski +rose and coming up to Prince Andrew took him along to the other end of +the room. It was clear that he thought it necessary to interest +himself in Bolkonski. + +"I had no chance to talk with you, Prince, during the animated +conversation in which that venerable gentleman involved me," he said +with a mildly contemptuous smile, as if intimating by that smile +that he and Prince Andrew understood the insignificance of the +people with whom he had just been talking. This flattered Prince +Andrew. "I have known of you for a long time: first from your action +with regard to your serfs, a first example, of which it is very +desirable that there should be more imitators; and secondly because +you are one of those gentlemen of the chamber who have not +considered themselves offended by the new decree concerning the +ranks allotted to courtiers, which is causing so much gossip and +tittle-tattle." + +"No," said Prince Andrew, "my father did not wish me to take +advantage of the privilege. I began the service from the lower grade." + +"Your father, a man of the last century, evidently stands above +our contemporaries who so condemn this measure which merely +reestablishes natural justice." + +"I think, however, that these condemnations have some ground," +returned Prince Andrew, trying to resist Speranski's influence, of +which he began to be conscious. He did not like to agree with him in +everything and felt a wish to contradict. Though he usually spoke +easily and well, he felt a difficulty in expressing himself now +while talking with Speranski. He was too much absorbed in observing +the famous man's personality. + +"Grounds of personal ambition maybe," Speranski put in quietly. + +"And of state interest to some extent," said Prince Andrew. + +"What do you mean?" asked Speranski quietly, lowering his eyes. + +"I am an admirer of Montesquieu," replied Prince Andrew, "and his +idea that le principe des monarchies est l'honneur me parait +incontestable. Certains droits et privileges de la noblesse me +paraissent etre des moyens de soutenir ce sentiment."* + + +*"The principle of monarchies is honor seems to me incontestable. +Certain rights and privileges for the aristocracy appear to me a means +of maintaining that sentiment." + + +The smile vanished from Speranski's white face, which was much +improved by the change. Probably Prince Andrew's thought interested +him. + +"Si vous envisagez la question sous ce point de vue,"* he began, +pronouncing French with evident difficulty, and speaking even slower +than in Russian but quite calmly. + + +*"If you regard the question from that point of view." + + +Speranski went on to say that honor, l'honeur, cannot be upheld by +privileges harmful to the service; that honor, l'honneur, is either +a negative concept of not doing what is blameworthy or it is a +source of emulation in pursuit of commendation and rewards, which +recognize it. His arguments were concise, simple, and clear. + +"An institution upholding honor, the source of emulation, is one +similar to the Legion d'honneur of the great Emperor Napoleon, not +harmful but helpful to the success of the service, but not a class +or court privilege." + +"I do not dispute that, but it cannot be denied that court +privileges have attained the same end," returned Prince Andrew. "Every +courtier considers himself bound to maintain his position worthily." + +"Yet you do not care to avail yourself of the privilege, Prince," +said Speranski, indicating by a smile that he wished to finish amiably +an argument which was embarrassing for his companion. "If you will +do me the honor of calling on me on Wednesday," he added, "I will, +after talking with Magnitski, let you know what may interest you, +and shall also have the pleasure of a more detailed chat with you." + +Closing his eyes, he bowed a la francaise, without taking leave, and +trying to attract as little attention as possible, he left the room. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +During the first weeks of his stay in Petersburg Prince Andrew +felt the whole trend of thought he had formed during his life of +seclusion quite overshadowed by the trifling cares that engrossed +him in that city. + +On returning home in the evening he would jot down in his notebook +four or five necessary calls or appointments for certain hours. The +mechanism of life, the arrangement of the day so as to be in time +everywhere, absorbed the greater part of his vital energy. He did +nothing, did not even think or find time to think, but only talked, +and talked successfully, of what he had thought while in the country. + +He sometimes noticed with dissatisfaction that he repeated the +same remark on the same day in different circles. But he was so busy +for whole days together that he had no time to notice that he was +thinking of nothing. + +As he had done on their first meeting at Kochubey's, Speranski +produced a strong impression on Prince Andrew on the Wednesday, when +he received him tete-a-tate at his own house and talked to him long +and confidentially. + +To Bolkonski so many people appeared contemptible and +insignificant creatures, and he so longed to find in someone the +living ideal of that perfection toward which he strove, that he +readily believed that in Speranski he had found this ideal of a +perfectly rational and virtuous man. Had Speranski sprung from the +same class as himself and possessed the same breeding and +traditions, Bolkonski would soon have discovered his weak, human, +unheroic sides; but as it was, Speranski's strange and logical turn of +mind inspired him with respect all the more because he did not quite +understand him. Moreover, Speranski, either because he appreciated the +other's capacity or because he considered it necessary to win him to +his side, showed off his dispassionate calm reasonableness before +Prince Andrew and flattered him with that subtle flattery which goes +hand in hand with self-assurance and consists in a tacit assumption +that one's companion is the only man besides oneself capable of +understanding the folly of the rest of mankind and the +reasonableness and profundity of one's own ideas. + +During their long conversation on Wednesday evening, Speranski +more than once remarked: "We regard everything that is above the +common level of rooted custom..." or, with a smile: "But we want the +wolves to be fed and the sheep to be safe..." or: "They cannot +understand this..." and all in a way that seemed to say: "We, you +and I, understand what they are and who we are." + +This first long conversation with Speranski only strengthened in +Prince Andrew the feeling he had experienced toward him at their first +meeting. He saw in him a remarkable, clear-thinking man of vast +intellect who by his energy and persistence had attained power, +which he was using solely for the welfare of Russia. In Prince +Andrew's eyes Speranski was the man he would himself have wished to +be--one who explained all the facts of life reasonably, considered +important only what was rational, and was capable of applying the +standard of reason to everything. Everything seemed so simple and +clear in Speranski's exposition that Prince Andrew involuntarily +agreed with him about everything. If he replied and argued, it was +only because he wished to maintain his independence and not submit +to Speranski's opinions entirely. Everything was right and +everything was as it should be: only one thing disconcerted Prince +Andrew. This was Speranski's cold, mirrorlike look, which did not +allow one to penetrate to his soul, and his delicate white hands, +which Prince Andrew involuntarily watched as one does watch the +hands of those who possess power. This mirrorlike gaze and those +delicate hands irritated Prince Andrew, he knew not why. He was +unpleasantly struck, too, by the excessive contempt for others that he +observed in Speranski, and by the diversity of lines of argument he +used to support his opinions. He made use of every kind of mental +device, except analogy, and passed too boldly, it seemed to Prince +Andrew, from one to another. Now he would take up the position of a +practical man and condemn dreamers; now that of a satirist, and +laugh ironically at his opponents; now grow severely logical, or +suddenly rise to the realm of metaphysics. (This last resource was one +he very frequently employed.) He would transfer a question to +metaphysical heights, pass on to definitions of space, time, and +thought, and, having deduced the refutation he needed, would again +descend to the level of the original discussion. + +In general the trait of Speranski's mentality which struck Prince +Andrew most was his absolute and unshakable belief in the power and +authority of reason. It was evident that the thought could never occur +to him which to Prince Andrew seemed so natural, namely, that it is +after all impossible to express all one thinks; and that he had +never felt the doubt, "Is not all I think and believe nonsense?" And +it was just this peculiarity of Speranski's mind that particularly +attracted Prince Andrew. + +During the first period of their acquaintance Bolkonski felt a +passionate admiration for him similar to that which he had once felt +for Bonaparte. The fact that Speranski was the son of a village +priest, and that stupid people might meanly despise him on account +of his humble origin (as in fact many did), caused Prince Andrew to +cherish his sentiment for him the more, and unconsciously to +strengthen it. + +On that first evening Bolkonski spent with him, having mentioned the +Commission for the Revision of the Code of Laws, Speranski told him +sarcastically that the Commission had existed for a hundred and +fifty years, had cost millions, and had done nothing except that +Rosenkampf had stuck labels on the corresponding paragraphs of the +different codes. + +"And that is all the state has for the millions it has spent," +said he. "We want to give the Senate new juridical powers, but we have +no laws. That is why it is a sin for men like you, Prince, not to +serve in these times!" + +Prince Andrew said that for that work an education in +jurisprudence was needed which he did not possess. + +"But nobody possesses it, so what would you have? It is a vicious +circle from which we must break a way out." + +A week later Prince Andrew was a member of the Committee on Army +Regulations and--what he had not at all expected--was chairman of a +section of the committee for the revision of the laws. At +Speranski's request he took the first part of the Civil Code that +was being drawn up and, with the aid of the Code Napoleon and the +Institutes of Justinian, he worked at formulating the section on +Personal Rights. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Nearly two years before this, in 1808, Pierre on returning to +Petersburg after visiting his estates had involuntarily found +himself in a leading position among the Petersburg Freemasons. He +arranged dining and funeral lodge meetings, enrolled new members, +and busied himself uniting various lodges and acquiring authentic +charters. He gave money for the erection of temples and supplemented +as far as he could the collection of alms, in regard to which the +majority of members were stingy and irregular. He supported almost +singlehanded a poorhouse the order had founded in Petersburg. + +His life meanwhile continued as before, with the same infatuations +and dissipations. He liked to dine and drink well, and though he +considered it immoral and humiliating could not resist the temptations +of the bachelor circles in which he moved. + +Amid the turmoil of his activities and distractions, however, Pierre +at the end of a year began to feel that the more firmly he tried to +rest upon it, the more Masonic ground on which he stood gave way under +him. At the same time he felt that the deeper the ground sank under +him the closer bound he involuntarily became to the order. When he had +joined the Freemasons he had experienced the feeling of one who +confidently steps onto the smooth surface of a bog. When he put his +foot down it sank in. To make quite sure of the firmness the ground, +he put his other foot down and sank deeper still, became stuck in +it, and involuntarily waded knee-deep in the bog. + +Joseph Alexeevich was not in Petersburg--he had of late stood +aside from the affairs of the Petersburg lodges, and lived almost +entirely in Moscow. All the members of the lodges were men Pierre knew +in ordinary life, and it was difficult for him to regard them merely +as Brothers in Freemasonry and not as Prince B. or Ivan Vasilevich D., +whom he knew in society mostly as weak and insignificant men. Under +the Masonic aprons and insignia he saw the uniforms and decorations at +which they aimed in ordinary life. Often after collecting alms, and +reckoning up twenty to thirty rubles received for the most part in +promises from a dozen members, of whom half were as well able to pay +as himself, Pierre remembered the Masonic vow in which each Brother +promised to devote all his belongings to his neighbor, and doubts on +which he tried not to dwell arose in his soul. + +He divided the Brothers he knew into four categories. In the first +he put those who did not take an active part in the affairs of the +lodges or in human affairs, but were exclusively occupied with the +mystical science of the order: with questions of the threefold +designation of God, the three primordial elements--sulphur, mercury, +and salt--or the meaning of the square and all the various figures +of the temple of Solomon. Pierre respected this class of Brothers to +which the elder ones chiefly belonged, including, Pierre thought, +Joseph Alexeevich himself, but he did not share their interests. His +heart was not in the mystical aspect of Freemasonry. + +In the second category Pierre reckoned himself and others like +him, seeking and vacillating, who had not yet found in Freemasonry a +straight and comprehensible path, but hoped to do so. + +In the third category he included those Brothers (the majority) +who saw nothing in Freemasonry but the external forms and +ceremonies, and prized the strict performance of these forms without +troubling about their purport or significance. Such were Willarski and +even the Grand Master of the principal lodge. + +Finally, to the fourth category also a great many Brothers belonged, +particularly those who had lately joined. These according to +Pierre's observations were men who had no belief in anything, nor +desire for anything, but joined the Freemasons merely to associate +with the wealthy young Brothers who were influential through their +connections or rank, and of whom there were very many in the lodge. + +Pierre began to feel dissatisfied with what he was doing. +Freemasonry, at any rate as he saw it here, sometimes seemed to him +based merely on externals. He did not think of doubting Freemasonry +itself, but suspected that Russian Masonry had taken a wrong path +and deviated from its original principles. And so toward the end of +the year he went abroad to be initiated into the higher secrets of the +order. + +In the summer of 1809 Pierre returned to Petersburg. Our +Freemasons knew from correspondence with those abroad that Bezukhov +had obtained the confidence of many highly placed persons, had been +initiated into many mysteries, had been raised to a higher grade, +and was bringing back with him much that might conduce to the +advantage of the Masonic cause in Russia. The Petersburg Freemasons +all came to see him, tried to ingratiate themselves with him, and it +seemed to them all that he was preparing something for them and +concealing it. + +A solemn meeting of the lodge of the second degree was convened, +at which Pierre promised to communicate to the Petersburg Brothers +what he had to deliver to them from the highest leaders of their +order. The meeting was a full one. After the usual ceremonies Pierre +rose and began his address. + +"Dear Brothers," he began, blushing and stammering, with a written +speech in his hand, "it is not sufficient to observe our mysteries +in the seclusion of our lodge--we must act--act! We are drowsing, +but we must act." Pierre raised his notebook and began to read. + +"For the dissemination of pure truth and to secure the triumph of +virtue," he read, "we must cleanse men from prejudice, diffuse +principles in harmony with the spirit of the times, undertake the +education of the young, unite ourselves in indissoluble bonds with the +wisest men, boldly yet prudently overcome superstitions, infidelity, +and folly, and form of those devoted to us a body linked together by +unity of purpose and possessed of authority and power. + +"To attain this end we must secure a preponderance of virtue over +vice and must endeavor to secure that the honest man may, even in this +world, receive a lasting reward for his virtue. But in these great +endeavors we are gravely hampered by the political institutions of +today. What is to be done in these circumstances? To favor +revolutions, overthrow everything, repel force by force?... No! We are +very far from that. Every violent reform deserves censure, for it +quite fails to remedy evil while men remain what they are, and also +because wisdom needs no violence. + +"The whole plan of our order should be based on the idea of +preparing men of firmness and virtue bound together by unity of +conviction--aiming at the punishment of vice and folly, and +patronizing talent and virtue: raising worthy men from the dust and +attaching them to our Brotherhood. Only then will our order have the +power unobtrusively to bind the hands of the protectors of disorder +and to control them without their being aware of it. In a word, we +must found a form of government holding universal sway, which should +be diffused over the whole world without destroying the bonds of +citizenship, and beside which all other governments can continue in +their customary course and do everything except what impedes the great +aim of our order, which is to obtain for virtue the victory over vice. +This aim was that of Christianity itself. It taught men to be wise and +good and for their own benefit to follow the example and instruction +of the best and wisest men. + +"At that time, when everything was plunged in darkness, preaching +alone was of course sufficient. The novelty of Truth endowed her +with special strength, but now we need much more powerful methods. +It is now necessary that man, governed by his senses, should find in +virtue a charm palpable to those senses. It is impossible to eradicate +the passions; but we must strive to direct them to a noble aim, and it +is therefore necessary that everyone should be able to satisfy his +passions within the limits of virtue. Our order should provide means +to that end. + +"As soon as we have a certain number of worthy men in every state, +each of them again training two others and all being closely united, +everything will be possible for our order, which has already in secret +accomplished much for the welfare of mankind." + +This speech not only made a strong impression, but created +excitement in the lodge. The majority of the Brothers, seeing in it +dangerous designs of Illuminism,* met it with a coldness that +surprised Pierre. The Grand Master began answering him, and Pierre +began developing his views with more and more warmth. It was long +since there had been so stormy a meeting. Parties were formed, some +accusing Pierre of Illuminism, others supporting him. At that +meeting he was struck for the first time by the endless variety of +men's minds, which prevents a truth from ever presenting itself +identically to two persons. Even those members who seemed to be on his +side understood him in their own way with limitations and +alterations he could not agree to, as what he always wanted most was +to convey his thought to others just as he himself understood it. + + +*The Illuminati sought to substitute republican for monarchical +institutions. + + +At the end of the meeting the Grand Master with irony and ill-will +reproved Bezukhov for his vehemence and said it was not love of virtue +alone, but also a love of strife that had moved him in the dispute. +Pierre did not answer him and asked briefly whether his proposal would +be accepted. He was told that it would not, and without waiting for +the usual formalities he left the lodge and went home. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Again Pierre was overtaken by the depression he so dreaded. For +three days after the delivery of his speech at the lodge he lay on a +sofa at home receiving no one and going nowhere. + +It was just then that he received a letter from his wife, who +implored him to see her, telling him how grieved she was about him and +how she wished to devote her whole life to him. + +At the end of the letter she informed him that in a few days she +would return to Petersburg from abroad. + +Following this letter one of the Masonic Brothers whom Pierre +respected less than the others forced his way in to see him and, +turning the conversation upon Pierre's matrimonial affairs, by way +of fraternal advice expressed the opinion that his severity to his +wife was wrong and that he was neglecting one of the first rules of +Freemasonry by not forgiving the penitent. + +At the same time his mother-in-law, Prince Vasili's wife, sent to +him imploring him to come if only for a few minutes to discuss a +most important matter. Pierre saw that there was a conspiracy +against him and that they wanted to reunite him with his wife, and +in the mood he then was, this was not even unpleasant to him. +Nothing mattered to him. Nothing in life seemed to him of much +importance, and under the influence of the depression that possessed +him he valued neither his liberty nor his resolution to punish his +wife. + +"No one is right and no one is to blame; so she too is not to +blame," he thought. + +If he did not at once give his consent to a reunion with his wife, +it was only because in his state of depression he did not feel able to +take any step. Had his wife come to him, he would not have turned +her away. Compared to what preoccupied him, was it not a matter of +indifference whether he lived with his wife or not? + +Without replying either to his wife or his mother-in-law, Pierre +late one night prepared for a journey and started for Moscow to see +Joseph Alexeevich. This is what he noted in his diary: + + +Moscow, 17th November + +I have just returned from my benefactor, and hasten to write down +what I have experienced. Joseph Alexeevich is living poorly and has +for three years been suffering from a painful disease of the +bladder. No one has ever heard him utter a groan or a word of +complaint. From morning till late at night, except when he eats his +very plain food, he is working at science. He received me graciously +and made me sit down on the bed on which he lay. I made the sign of +the Knights of the East and of Jerusalem, and he responded in the same +manner, asking me with a mild smile what I had learned and gained in +the Prussian and Scottish lodges. I told him everything as best I +could, and told him what I had proposed to our Petersburg lodge, of +the bad reception I had encountered, and of my rupture with the +Brothers. Joseph Alexeevich, having remained silent and thoughtful for +a good while, told me his view of the matter, which at once lit up for +me my whole past and the future path I should follow. He surprised +me by asking whether I remembered the threefold aim of the order: +(1) The preservation and study of the mystery. (2) The purification +and reformation of oneself for its reception, and (3) The +improvement of the human race by striving for such purification. Which +is the principal aim of these three? Certainly self-reformation and +self-purification. Only to this aim can we always strive independently +of circumstances. But at the same time just this aim demands the +greatest efforts of us; and so, led astray by pride, losing sight of +this aim, we occupy ourselves either with the mystery which in our +impurity we are unworthy to receive, or seek the reformation of the +human race while ourselves setting an example of baseness and +profligacy. Illuminism is not a pure doctrine, just because it is +attracted by social activity and puffed up by pride. On this ground +Joseph Alexeevich condemned my speech and my whole activity, and in +the depth of my soul I agreed with him. Talking of my family affairs +he said to me, "the chief duty of a true Mason, as I have told you, +lies in perfecting himself. We often think that by removing all the +difficulties of our life we shall more quickly reach our aim, but on +the contrary, my dear sir, it is only in the midst of worldly cares +that we can attain our three chief aims: (1) Self-knowledge--for man +can only know himself by comparison, (2) Self-perfecting, which can +only be attained by conflict, and (3) The attainment of the chief +virtue--love of death. Only the vicissitudes of life can show us its +vanity and develop our innate love of death or of rebirth to a new +life." These words are all the more remarkable because, in spite of +his great physical sufferings, Joseph Alexeevich is never weary of +life though he loves death, for which--in spite of the purity and +loftiness of his inner man--he does not yet feel himself +sufficiently prepared. My benefactor then explained to me fully the +meaning of the Great Square of creation and pointed out to me that the +numbers three and seven are the basis of everything. He advised me not +to avoid intercourse with the Petersburg Brothers, but to take up only +second-grade posts in the lodge, to try, while diverting the +Brothers from pride, to turn them toward the true path +self-knowledge and self-perfecting. Besides this he advised me for +myself personally above all to keep a watch over myself, and to that +end he gave me a notebook, the one I am now writing in and in which +I will in future note down all my actions. + + +Petersburg, 23rd November + +I am again living with my wife. My mother-in-law came to me in tears +and said that Helene was here and that she implored me to hear her; +that she was innocent and unhappy at my desertion, and much more. I +knew that if I once let myself see her I should not have strength to +go on refusing what she wanted. In my perplexity I did not know +whose aid and advice to seek. Had my benefactor been here he would +have told me what to do. I went to my room and reread Joseph +Alexeevich's letters and recalled my conversations with him, and +deduced from it all that I ought not to refuse a suppliant, and +ought to reach a helping hand to everyone--especially to one so +closely bound to me--and that I must bear my cross. But if I forgive +her for the sake of doing right, then let union with her have only a +spiritual aim. That is what I decided, and what I wrote to Joseph +Alexeevich. I told my wife that I begged her to forget the past, to +forgive me whatever wrong I may have done her, and that I had +nothing to forgive. It gave me joy to tell her this. She need not know +how hard it was for me to see her again. I have settled on the upper +floor of this big house and am experiencing a happy feeling of +regeneration. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +At that time, as always happens, the highest society that met at +court and at the grand balls was divided into several circles, each +with its own particular tone. The largest of these was the French +circle of the Napoleonic alliance, the circle of Count Rumyantsev +and Caulaincourt. In this group Helene, as soon as she had settled +in Petersburg with her husband, took a very prominent place. She was +visited by the members of the French embassy and by many belonging +to that circle and noted for their intellect and polished manners. + +Helene had been at Erfurt during the famous meeting of the +Emperors and had brought from there these connections with the +Napoleonic notabilities. At Erfurt her success had been brilliant. +Napoleon himself had noticed her in the theater and said of her: +"C'est un superbe animal."* Her success as a beautiful and elegant +woman did not surprise Pierre, for she had become even handsomer +than before. What did surprise him was that during these last two +years his wife had succeeded in gaining the reputation "d' une femme +charmante, aussi spirituelle que belle."*[2] The distinguished +Prince de Ligne wrote her eight-page letters. Bilibin saved up his +epigrams to produce them in Countess Bezukhova's presence. To be +received in the Countess Bezukhova's salon was regarded as a diploma +of intellect. Young men read books before attending Helene's evenings, +to have something to say in her salon, and secretaries of the embassy, +and even ambassadors, confided diplomatic secrets to her, so that in a +way Helene was a power. Pierre, who knew she was very stupid, +sometimes attended, with a strange feeling of perplexity and fear, her +evenings and dinner parties, where politics, poetry, and philosophy +were discussed. At these parties his feelings were like those of a +conjuror who always expects his trick to be found out at any moment. +But whether because stupidity was just what was needed to run such a +salon, or because those who were deceived found pleasure in the +deception, at any rate it remained unexposed and Helene Bezukhova's +reputation as a lovely and clever woman became so firmly established +that she could say the emptiest and stupidest things and everybody +would go into raptures over every word of hers and look for a profound +meaning in it of which she herself had no conception. + + +*"That's a superb animal." + +*[2] "Of a charming woman, as witty as she is lovely." + + +Pierre was just the husband needed for a brilliant society woman. He +was that absent-minded crank, a grand seigneur husband who was in no +one's way, and far from spoiling the high tone and general +impression of the drawing room, he served, by the contrast he +presented to her, as an advantageous background to his elegant and +tactful wife. Pierre during the last two years, as a result of his +continual absorption in abstract interests and his sincere contempt +for all else, had acquired in his wife's circle, which did not +interest him, that air of unconcern, indifference, and benevolence +toward all, which cannot be acquired artificially and therefore +inspires involuntary respect. He entered his wife's drawing room as +one enters a theater, was acquainted with everybody, equally pleased +to see everyone, and equally indifferent to them all. Sometimes he +joined in a conversation which interested him and, regardless of +whether any "gentlemen of the embassy" were present or not, +lispingly expressed his views, which were sometimes not at all in +accord with the accepted tone of the moment. But the general opinion +concerning the queer husband of "the most distinguished woman in +Petersburg" was so well established that no one took his freaks +seriously. + +Among the many young men who frequented her house every day, Boris +Drubetskoy, who had already achieved great success in the service, was +the most intimate friend of the Bezukhov household since Helene's +return from Erfurt. Helene spoke of him as "mon page" and treated +him like a child. Her smile for him was the same as for everybody, but +sometimes that smile made Pierre uncomfortable. Toward him Boris +behaved with a particularly dignified and sad deference. This shade of +deference also disturbed Pierre. He had suffered so painfully three +years before from the mortification to which his wife had subjected +him that he now protected himself from the danger of its repetition, +first by not being a husband to his wife, and secondly by not allowing +himself to suspect. + +"No, now that she has become a bluestocking she has finally +renounced her former infatuations," he told himself. "There has +never been an instance of a bluestocking being carried away by affairs +of the heart"--a statement which, though gathered from an unknown +source, he believed implicitly. Yet strange to say Boris' presence +in his wife's drawing room (and he was almost always there) had a +physical effect upon Pierre; it constricted his limbs and destroyed +the unconsciousness and freedom of his movements. + +"What a strange antipathy," thought Pierre, "yet I used to like +him very much." + +In the eyes of the world Pierre was a great gentleman, the rather +blind and absurd husband of a distinguished wife, a clever crank who +did nothing but harmed nobody and was a first-rate, good-natured +fellow. But a complex and difficult process of internal development +was taking place all this time in Pierre's soul, revealing much to him +and causing him many spiritual doubts and joys. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Pierre went on with his diary, and this is what he wrote in it +during that time: + + +24th November + +Got up at eight, read the Scriptures, then went to my duties. [By +Joseph Alexeevich's advice Pierre had entered the service of the state +and served on one of the committees.] Returned home for dinner and +dined alone--the countess had many visitors I do not like. I ate and +drank moderately and after dinner copied out some passages for the +Brothers. In the evening I went down to the countess and told a +funny story about B., and only remembered that I ought not to have +done so when everybody laughed loudly at it. + +I am going to bed with a happy and tranquil mind. Great God, help me +to walk in Thy paths, (1) to conquer anger by calmness and +deliberation, (2) to vanquish lust by self-restraint and repulsion, +(3) to withdraw from worldliness, but not avoid (a) the service of the +state, (b) family duties, (c) relations with my friends, and the +management of my affairs. + + +27th November + +I got up late. On waking I lay long in bed yielding to sloth. O God, +help and strengthen me that I may walk in Thy ways! Read the +Scriptures, but without proper feeling. Brother Urusov came and we +talked about worldly vanities. He told me of the Emperor's new +projects. I began to criticize them, but remembered my rules and my +benefactor's words--that a true Freemason should be a zealous worker +for the state when his aid is required and a quiet onlooker when not +called on to assist. My tongue is my enemy. Brothers G. V. and O. +visited me and we had a preliminary talk about the reception of a +new Brother. They laid on me the duty of Rhetor. I feel myself weak +and unworthy. Then our talk turned to the interpretation of the +seven pillars and steps of the Temple, the seven sciences, the seven +virtues, the seven vices, and the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit. +Brother O. was very eloquent. In the evening the admission took place. +The new decoration of the Premises contributed much to the +magnificence of the spectacle. It was Boris Drubetskoy who was +admitted. I nominated him and was the Rhetor. A strange feeling +agitated me all the time I was alone with him in the dark chamber. I +caught myself harboring a feeling of hatred toward him which I +vainly tried to overcome. That is why I should really like to save him +from evil and lead him into the path of truth, but evil thoughts of +him did not leave me. It seemed to me that his object in entering +the Brotherhood was merely to be intimate and in favor with members of +our lodge. Apart from the fact that he had asked me several times +whether N. and S. were members of our lodge (a question to which I +could not reply) and that according to my observation he is +incapable of feeling respect for our holy order and is too preoccupied +and satisfied with the outer man to desire spiritual improvement, I +had no cause to doubt him, but he seemed to me insincere, and all +the time I stood alone with him in the dark temple it seemed to me +that he was smiling contemptuously at my words, and I wished really to +stab his bare breast with the sword I held to it. I could not be +eloquent, nor could I frankly mention my doubts to the Brothers and to +the Grand Master. Great Architect of Nature, help me to find the +true path out of the labyrinth of lies! + + + After this, three pages were left blank in the diary, and then +the following was written: + + +I have had a long and instructive talk alone with Brother V., who +advised me to hold fast by brother A. Though I am unworthy, much was +revealed to me. Adonai is the name of the creator of the world. Elohim +is the name of the ruler of all. The third name is the name +unutterable which means the All. Talks with Brother V. strengthen, +refresh, and support me in the path of virtue. In his presence doubt +has no place. The distinction between the poor teachings of mundane +science and our sacred all-embracing teaching is clear to me. Human +sciences dissect everything to comprehend it, and kill everything to +examine it. In the holy science of our order all is one, all is +known in its entirety and life. The Trinity--the three elements of +matter--are sulphur, mercury, and salt. Sulphur is of an oily and +fiery nature; in combination with salt by its fiery nature it +arouses a desire in the latter by means of which it attracts +mercury, seizes it, holds it, and in combination produces other +bodies. Mercury is a fluid, volatile, spiritual essence. Christ, the +Holy Spirit, Him!... + + +3rd December + +Awoke late, read the Scriptures but was apathetic. Afterwards went +and paced up and down the large hall. I wished to meditate, but +instead my imagination pictured an occurrence of four years ago, +when Dolokhov, meeting me in Moscow after our duel, said he hoped I +was enjoying perfect peace of mind in spite of my wife's absence. At +the time I gave him no answer. Now I recalled every detail of that +meeting and in my mind gave him the most malevolent and bitter +replies. I recollected myself and drove away that thought only when +I found myself glowing with anger, but I did not sufficiently +repent. Afterwards Boris Drubetskoy came and began relating various +adventures. His coming vexed me from the first, and I said something +disagreeable to him. He replied. I flared up and said much that was +unpleasant and even rude to him. He became silent, and I recollected +myself only when it was too late. My God, I cannot get on with him +at all. The cause of this is my egotism. I set myself above him and so +become much worse than he, for he is lenient to my rudeness while I on +the contrary nourish contempt for him. O God, grant that in his +presence I may rather see my own vileness, and behave so that he too +may benefit. After dinner I fell asleep and as I was drowsing off I +clearly heard a voice saying in my left ear, "Thy day!" + +I dreamed that I was walking in the dark and was suddenly surrounded +by dogs, but I went on undismayed. Suddenly a smallish dog seized my +left thigh with its teeth and would not let go. I began to throttle it +with my hands. Scarcely had I torn it off before another, a bigger +one, began biting me. I lifted it up, but the higher I lifted it the +bigger and heavier it grew. And suddenly Brother A. came and, taking +my arm, led me to a building to enter which we had to pass along a +narrow plank. I stepped on it, but it bent and gave way and I began to +clamber up a fence which I could scarcely reach with my hands. After +much effort I dragged myself up, so that my leg hung down on one +side and my body on the other. I looked round and saw Brother A. +standing on the fence and pointing me to a broad avenue and garden, +and in the garden was a large and beautiful building. I woke up. O +Lord, great Architect of Nature, help me to tear from myself these +dogs--my passions especially the last, which unites in itself the +strength of all the former ones, and aid me to enter that temple of +virtue to a vision of which I attained in my dream. + + +7th December + +I dreamed that Joseph Alexeevich was sitting in my house, and that I +was very glad and wished to entertain him. It seemed as if I chattered +incessantly with other people and suddenly remembered that this +could not please him, and I wished to come close to him and embrace +him. But as soon as I drew near I saw that his face had changed and +grown young, and he was quietly telling me something about the +teaching of our order, but so softly that I could not hear it. Then it +seemed that we all left the room and something strange happened. We +were sitting or lying on the floor. He was telling me something, and I +wished to show him my sensibility, and not listening to what he was +saying I began picturing to myself the condition of my inner man and +the grace of God sanctifying me. And tears came into my eyes, and I +was glad he noticed this. But he looked at me with vexation and jumped +up, breaking off his remarks. I felt abashed and asked whether what he +had been saying did not concern me; but he did not reply, gave me a +kind look, and then we suddenly found ourselves in my bedroom where +there is a double bed. He lay down on the edge of it and I burned with +longing to caress him and lie down too. And he said, "Tell me +frankly what is your chief temptation? Do you know it? I think you +know it already." Abashed by this question, I replied that sloth was +my chief temptation. He shook his head incredulously; and even more +abashed, I said that though I was living with my wife as he advised, I +was not living with her as her husband. To this he replied that one +should not deprive a wife of one's embraces and gave me to +understand that that was my duty. But I replied that I should be +ashamed to do it, and suddenly everything vanished. And I awoke and +found in my mind the text from the Gospel: "The life was the light +of men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness +comprehended it not." Joseph Alexeevich's face had looked young and +bright. That day I received a letter from my benefactor in which he +wrote about "conjugal duties." + + +9th December + +I had a dream from which I awoke with a throbbing heart. I saw +that I was in Moscow in my house, in the big sitting room, and +Joseph Alexeevich came in from the drawing room. I seemed to know at +once that the process of regeneration had already taken place in +him, and I rushed to meet him. I embraced him and kissed his hands, +and he said, "Hast thou noticed that my face is different?" I looked +at him, still holding him in my arms, and saw that his face was young, +but that he had no hair on his head and his features were quite +changed. And I said, "I should have known you had I met you by +chance," and I thought to myself, "Am I telling the truth?" And +suddenly I saw him lying like a dead body; then he gradually recovered +and went with me into my study carrying a large book of sheets of +drawing paper; I said, "I drew that," and he answered by bowing his +head. I opened the book, and on all the pages there were excellent +drawings. And in my dream I knew that these drawings represented the +love adventures of the soul with its beloved. And on its pages I saw a +beautiful representation of a maiden in transparent garments and +with a transparent body, flying up to the clouds. And I seemed to know +that this maiden was nothing else than a representation of the Song of +Songs. And looking at those drawings I dreamed I felt that I was doing +wrong, but could not tear myself away from them. Lord, help me! My +God, if Thy forsaking me is Thy doing, Thy will be done; but if I am +myself the cause, teach me what I should do! I shall perish of my +debauchery if Thou utterly desertest me! + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +The Rostovs' monetary affairs had not improved during the two +years they had spent in the country. + +Though Nicholas Rostov had kept firmly to his resolution and was +still serving modestly in an obscure regiment, spending +comparatively little, the way of life at Otradnoe--Mitenka's +management of affairs, in particular--was such that the debts +inevitably increased every year. The only resource obviously +presenting itself to the old count was to apply for an official +post, so he had come to Petersburg to look for one and also, as he +said, to let the lassies enjoy themselves for the last time. + +Soon after their arrival in Petersburg Berg proposed to Vera and was +accepted. + +Though in Moscow the Rostovs belonged to the best society without +themselves giving it a thought, yet in Petersburg their circle of +acquaintances was a mixed and indefinite one. In Petersburg they +were provincials, and the very people they had entertained in Moscow +without inquiring to what set they belonged, here looked down on them. + +The Rostovs lived in the same hospitable way in Petersburg as in +Moscow, and the most diverse people met at their suppers. Country +neighbors from Otradnoe, impoverished old squires and their daughters, +Peronskaya a maid of honor, Pierre Bezukhov, and the son of their +district postmaster who had obtained a post in Petersburg. Among the +men who very soon became frequent visitors at the Rostovs' house in +Petersburg were Boris, Pierre whom the count had met in the street and +dragged home with him, and Berg who spent whole days at the Rostovs' +and paid the eldest daughter, Countess Vera, the attentions a young +man pays when he intends to propose. + +Not in vain had Berg shown everybody his right hand wounded at +Austerlitz and held a perfectly unnecessary sword in his left. He +narrated that episode so persistently and with so important an air +that everyone believed in the merit and usefulness of his deed, and he +had obtained two decorations for Austerlitz. + +In the Finnish war he also managed to distinguish himself. He had +picked up the scrap of a grenade that had killed an aide-de-camp +standing near the commander in chief and had taken it to his +commander. Just as he had done after Austerlitz, he related this +occurrence at such length and so insistently that everyone again +believed it had been necessary to do this, and he received two +decorations for the Finnish war also. In 1809 he was a captain in +the Guards, wore medals, and held some special lucrative posts in +Petersburg. + +Though some skeptics smiled when told of Berg's merits, it could not +be denied that he was a painstaking and brave officer, on excellent +terms with his superiors, and a moral young man with a brilliant +career before him and an assured position in society. + +Four years before, meeting a German comrade in the stalls of a +Moscow theater, Berg had pointed out Vera Rostova to him and had +said in German, "das soll mein Weib werden,"* and from that moment had +made up his mind to marry her. Now in Petersburg, having considered +the Rostovs' position and his own, he decided that the time had come +to propose. + + +*"That girl shall be my wife." + + +Berg's proposal was at first received with a perplexity that was not +flattering to him. At first it seemed strange that the son of an +obscure Livonian gentleman should propose marriage to a Countess +Rostova; but Berg's chief characteristic was such a naive and good +natured egotism that the Rostovs involuntarily came to think it +would be a good thing, since he himself was so firmly convinced that +it was good, indeed excellent. Moreover, the Rostovs' affairs were +seriously embarrassed, as the suitor could not but know; and above +all, Vera was twenty-four, had been taken out everywhere, and though +she was certainly good-looking and sensible, no one up to now had +proposed to her. So they gave their consent. + +"You see," said Berg to his comrade, whom he called "friend" only +because he knew that everyone has friends, "you see, I have considered +it all, and should not marry if I had not thought it all out or if +it were in any way unsuitable. But on the contrary, my papa and +mamma are now provided for--I have arranged that rent for them in +the Baltic Provinces--and I can live in Petersburg on my pay, and with +her fortune and my good management we can get along nicely. I am not +marrying for money--I consider that dishonorable--but a wife should +bring her share and a husband his. I have my position in the +service, she has connections and some means. In our times that is +worth something, isn't it? But above all, she is a handsome, estimable +girl, and she loves me..." + +Berg blushed and smiled. + +"And I love her, because her character is sensible and very good. +Now the other sister, though they are the same family, is quite +different--an unpleasant character and has not the same +intelligence. She is so... you know?... Unpleasant... But my +fiancee!... Well, you will be coming," he was going to say, "to dine," +but changed his mind and said "to take tea with us," and quickly +doubling up his tongue he blew a small round ring of tobacco smoke, +perfectly embodying his dream of happiness. + +After the first feeling of perplexity aroused in the parents by +Berg's proposal, the holiday tone of joyousness usual at such times +took possession of the family, but the rejoicing was external and +insincere. In the family's feeling toward this wedding a certain +awkwardness and constraint was evident, as if they were ashamed of not +having loved Vera sufficiently and of being so ready to get her off +their hands. The old count felt this most. He would probably have been +unable to state the cause of his embarrassment, but it resulted from +the state of his affairs. He did not know at all how much he had, what +his debts amounted to, or what dowry he could give Vera. When his +daughters were born he had assigned to each of them, for her dowry, an +estate with three hundred serfs; but one of these estates had +already been sold, and the other was mortgaged and the interest so +much in arrears that it would have to be sold, so that it was +impossible to give it to Vera. Nor had he any money. + +Berg had already been engaged a month, and only a week remained +before the wedding, but the count had not yet decided in his own +mind the question of the dowry, nor spoken to his wife about it. At +one time the count thought of giving her the Ryazan estate or of +selling a forest, at another time of borrowing money on a note of +hand. A few days before the wedding Berg entered the count's study +early one morning and, with a pleasant smile, respectfully asked his +future father-in-law to let him know what Vera's dowry would be. The +count was so disconcerted by this long-foreseen inquiry that without +consideration he gave the first reply that came into his head. "I like +your being businesslike about it.... I like it. You shall be +satisfied...." + +And patting Berg on the shoulder he got up, wishing to end the +conversation. But Berg, smiling pleasantly, explained that if he did +not know for certain how much Vera would have and did not receive at +least part of the dowry in advance, he would have to break matters +off. + +"Because, consider, Count--if I allowed myself to marry now +without having definite means to maintain my wife, I should be +acting badly...." + +The conversation ended by the count, who wished to be generous and +to avoid further importunity, saying that he would give a note of hand +for eighty thousand rubles. Berg smiled meekly, kissed the count on +the shoulder, and said that he was very grateful, but that it was +impossible for him to arrange his new life without receiving thirty +thousand in ready money. "Or at least twenty thousand, Count," he +added, "and then a note of hand for only sixty thousand." + +"Yes, yes, all right!" said the count hurriedly. "Only excuse me, my +dear fellow, I'll give you twenty thousand and a note of hand for +eighty thousand as well. Yes, yes! Kiss me." + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Natasha was sixteen and it was the year 1809, the very year to which +she had counted on her fingers with Boris after they had kissed four +years ago. Since then she had not seen him. Before Sonya and her +mother, if Boris happened to be mentioned, she spoke quite freely of +that episode as of some childish, long-forgotten matter that was not +worth mentioning. But in the secret depths of her soul the question +whether her engagement to Boris was a jest or an important, binding +promise tormented her. + +Since Boris left Moscow in 1805 to join the army he had had not seen +the Rostovs. He had been in Moscow several times, and had passed +near Otradnoe, but had never been to see them. + +Sometimes it occurred to Natasha that he not wish to see her, and +this conjecture was confirmed by the sad tone in which her elders +spoke of him. + +"Nowadays old friends are not remembered," the countess would say +when Boris was mentioned. + +Anna Mikhaylovna also had of late visited them less frequently, +seemed to hold herself with particular dignity, and always spoke +rapturously and gratefully of the merits of her son and the +brilliant career on which he had entered. When the Rostovs came to +Petersburg Boris called on them. + +He drove to their house in some agitation. The memory of Natasha was +his most poetic recollection. But he went with the firm intention of +letting her and her parents feel that the childish relations between +himself and Natasha could not be binding either on her or on him. He +had a brilliant position in society thanks to his intimacy with +Countess Bezukhova, a brilliant position in the service thanks to +the patronage of an important personage whose complete confidence he +enjoyed, and he was beginning to make plans for marrying one of the +richest heiresses in Petersburg, plans which might very easily be +realized. When he entered the Rostovs' drawing room Natasha was in her +own room. When she heard of his arrival she almost ran into the +drawing room, flushed and beaming with a more than cordial smile. + +Boris remembered Natasha in a short dress, with dark eyes shining +from under her curls and boisterous, childish laughter, as he had +known her four years before; and so he was taken aback when quite a +different Natasha entered, and his face expressed rapturous +astonishment. This expression on his face pleased Natasha. + +"Well, do you recognize your little madcap playmate?" asked the +countess. + +Boris kissed Natasha's hand and said that he was astonished at the +change in her. + +"How handsome you have grown!" + +"I should think so!" replied Natasha's laughing eyes. + +"And is Papa older?" she asked. + +Natasha sat down and, without joining in Boris' conversation with +the countess, silently and minutely studied her childhood's suitor. He +felt the weight of that resolute and affectionate scrutiny and glanced +at her occasionally. + +Boris' uniform, spurs, tie, and the way his hair was brushed were +all comme il faut and in the latest fashion. This Natasha noticed at +once. He sat rather sideways in the armchair next to the countess, +arranging with his right hand the cleanest of gloves that fitted his +left hand like a skin, and he spoke with a particularly refined +compression of his lips about the amusements of the highest Petersburg +society, recalling with mild irony old times in Moscow and Moscow +acquaintances. It was not accidentally, Natasha felt, that he alluded, +when speaking of the highest aristocracy, to an ambassador's ball he +had attended, and to invitations he had received from N.N. and S.S. + +All this time Natasha sat silent, glancing up at him from under +her brows. This gaze disturbed and confused Boris more and more. He +looked round more frequently toward her, and broke off in what he +was saying. He did not stay more than ten minutes, then rose and +took his leave. The same inquisitive, challenging, and rather +mocking eyes still looked at him. After his first visit Boris said +to himself that Natasha attracted him just as much as ever, but that +he must not yield to that feeling, because to marry her, a girl almost +without fortune, would mean ruin to his career, while to renew their +former relations without intending to marry her would be dishonorable. +Boris made up his mind to avoid meeting Natasha, but despite that +resolution he called again a few days later and began calling often +and spending whole days at the Rostovs'. It seemed to him that he +ought to have an explanation with Natasha and tell her that the old +times must be forgotten, that in spite of everything... she could +not be his wife, that he had no means, and they would never let her +marry him. But he failed to do so and felt awkward about entering on +such an explanation. From day to day he became more and more +entangled. It seemed to her mother and Sonya that Natasha was in +love with Boris as of old. She sang him his favorite songs, showed him +her album, making him write in it, did not allow him to allude to +the past, letting it be understood how was the present; and every +day he went away in a fog, without having said what he meant to, and +not knowing what he was doing or why he came, or how it would all end. +He left off visiting Helene and received reproachful notes from her +every day, and yet he continued to spend whole days with the Rostovs. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +One night when the old countess, in nightcap and dressing jacket, +without her false curls, and with her poor little knob of hair showing +under her white cotton cap, knelt sighing and groaning on a rug and +bowing to the ground in prayer, her door creaked and Natasha, also +in a dressing jacket with slippers on her bare feet and her hair in +curlpapers, ran in. The countess--her prayerful mood dispelled--looked +round and frowned. She was finishing her last prayer: "Can it be +that this couch will be my grave?" Natasha, flushed and eager, +seeing her mother in prayer, suddenly checked her rush, half sat down, +and unconsciously put out her tongue as if chiding herself. Seeing +that her mother was still praying she ran on tiptoe to the bed and, +rapidly slipping one little foot against the other, pushed off her +slippers and jumped onto the bed the countess had feared might +become her grave. This couch was high, with a feather bed and five +pillows each smaller than the one below. Natasha jumped on it, sank +into the feather bed, rolled over to the wall, and began snuggling +up the bedclothes as she settled down, raising her knees to her +chin, kicking out and laughing almost inaudibly, now covering +herself up head and all, and now peeping at her mother. The countess +finished her prayers and came to the bed with a stern face, but +seeing, that Natasha's head was covered, she smiled in her kind, +weak way. + +"Now then, now then!" said she. + +"Mamma, can we have a talk? Yes?" said Natasha. "Now, just one on +your throat and another... that'll do!" And seizing her mother round +the neck, she kissed her on the throat. In her behavior to her +mother Natasha seemed rough, but she was so sensitive and tactful that +however she clasped her mother she always managed to do it without +hurting her or making her feel uncomfortable or displeased. + +"Well, what is it tonight?" said the mother, having arranged her +pillows and waited until Natasha, after turning over a couple of +times, had settled down beside her under the quilt, spread out her +arms, and assumed a serious expression. + +These visits of Natasha's at night before the count returned from +his club were one of the greatest pleasures of both mother, and +daughter. + +"What is it tonight?--But I have to tell you..." + +Natasha put her hand on her mother's mouth. + +"About Boris... I know," she said seriously; "that's what I have +come about. Don't say it--I know. No, do tell me!" and she removed her +hand. "Tell me, Mamma! He's nice?" + +"Natasha, you are sixteen. At your age I was married. You say +Boris is nice. He is very nice, and I love him like a son. But what +then?... What are you thinking about? You have quite turned his +head, I can see that...." + +As she said this the countess looked round at her daughter. +Natasha was lying looking steadily straight before her at one of the +mahogany sphinxes carved on the corners of the bedstead, so that the +countess only saw her daughter's face in profile. That face struck her +by its peculiarly serious and concentrated expression. + +Natasha was listening and considering. + +"Well, what then?" said she. + +"You have quite turned his head, and why? What do you want of him? +You know you can't marry him." + +"Why not?" said Natasha, without changing her position. + +"Because he is young, because he is poor, because he is a +relation... and because you yourself don't love him." + +"How do you know?" + +"I know. It is not right, darling!" + + "But if I want to..." said Natasha. + +"Leave off talking nonsense," said the countess. + +"But if I want to..." + +"Natasha, I am in earnest..." + +Natasha did not let her finish. She drew the countess' large hand to +her, kissed it on the back and then on the palm, then again turned +it over and began kissing first one knuckle, then the space between +the knuckles, then the next knuckle, whispering, "January, February, +March, April, May. Speak, Mamma, why don't you say anything? Speak!" +said she, turning to her mother, who was tenderly gazing at her +daughter and in that contemplation seemed to have forgotten all she +had wished to say. + +"It won't do, my love! Not everyone will understand this +friendship dating from your childish days, and to see him so +intimate with you may injure you in the eyes of other young men who +visit us, and above all it torments him for nothing. He may already +have found a suitable and wealthy match, and now he's half crazy." + +"Crazy?" repeated Natasha. + +"I'll tell you some things about myself. I had a cousin..." + +"I know! Cyril Matveich... but he is old." + +"He was not always old. But this is what I'll do, Natasha, I'll have +a talk with Boris. He need not come so often...." + +"Why not, if he likes to?" + +"Because I know it will end in nothing...." + +"How can you know? No, Mamma, don't speak to him! What nonsense!" +said Natasha in the tone of one being deprived of her property. "Well, +I won't marry, but let him come if he enjoys it and I enjoy it." +Natasha smiled and looked at her mother. "Not to marry, but just +so," she added. + +"How so, my pet?" + +"Just so. There's no need for me to marry him. But... just so." + +"Just so, just so," repeated the countess, and shaking all over, she +went off into a good humored, unexpected, elderly laugh. + +"Don't laugh, stop!" cried Natasha. "You're shaking the whole bed! +You're awfully like me, just such another giggler.... Wait..." and she +seized the countess' hands and kissed a knuckle of the little +finger, saying, "June," and continued, kissing, "July, August," on the +other hand. "But, Mamma, is he very much in love? What do you think? +Was anybody ever so much in love with you? And he's very nice, very, +very nice. Only not quite my taste--he is so narrow, like the +dining-room clock.... Don't you understand? Narrow, you know--gray, +light gray..." + +"What rubbish you're talking!" said the countess. + +Natasha continued: "Don't you really understand? Nicholas would +understand.... Bezukhov, now, is blue, dark-blue and red, and he is +square." + +"You flirt with him too," said the countess, laughing. + +"No, he is a Freemason, I have found out. He is fine, dark-blue +and red.... How can I explain it to you?" + +"Little countess!" the count's voice called from behind the door. +"You're not asleep?" Natasha jumped up, snatched up her slippers, +and ran barefoot to her own room. + +It was a long time before she could sleep. She kept thinking that no +one could understand all that she understood and all there was in her. + +"Sonya?" she thought, glancing at that curled-up, sleeping little +kitten with her enormous plait of hair. "No, how could she? She's +virtuous. She fell in love with Nicholas and does not wish to know +anything more. Even Mamma does not understand. It is wonderful how +clever I am and how... charming she is," she went on, speaking of +herself in the third person, and imagining it was some very wise +man--the wisest and best of men--who was saying it of her. "There is +everything, everything in her," continued this man. "She is +unusually intelligent, charming... and then she is pretty, +uncommonly pretty, and agile--she swims and rides splendidly... and +her voice! One can really say it's a wonderful voice!" + +She hummed a scrap from her favorite opera by Cherubini, threw +herself on her bed, laughed at the pleasant thought that she would +immediately fall asleep, called Dunyasha the maid to put out the +candle, and before Dunyasha had left the room had already passed +into yet another happier world of dreams, where everything was as +light and beautiful as in reality, and even more so because it was +different. + + +Next day the countess called Boris aside and had a talk with him, +after which he ceased coming to the Rostovs'. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +On the thirty-first of December, New Year's Eve, 1809 --10 an old +grandee of Catherine's day was giving a ball and midnight supper. +The diplomatic corps and the Emperor himself were to be present. + +The grandee's well-known mansion on the English Quay glittered +with innumerable lights. Police were stationed at the brightly lit +entrance which was carpeted with red baize, and not only gendarmes but +dozens of police officers and even the police master himself stood +at the porch. Carriages kept driving away and fresh ones arriving, +with red-liveried footmen and footmen in plumed hats. From the +carriages emerged men wearing uniforms, stars, and ribbons, while +ladies in satin and ermine cautiously descended the carriage steps +which were let down for them with a clatter, and then walked hurriedly +and noiselessly over the baize at the entrance. + +Almost every time a new carriage drove up a whisper ran through +the crowd and caps were doffed. + +"The Emperor?... No, a minister.... prince... ambassador. Don't +you see the plumes?..." was whispered among the crowd. + +One person, better dressed than the rest, seemed to know everyone +and mentioned by name the greatest dignitaries of the day. + +A third of the visitors had already arrived, but the Rostovs, who +were to be present, were still hurrying to get dressed. + +There had been many discussions and preparations for this ball in +the Rostov family, many fears that the invitation would not arrive, +that the dresses would not be ready, or that something would not be +arranged as it should be. + +Marya Ignatevna Peronskaya, a thin and shallow maid of honor at +the court of the Dowager Empress, who was a friend and relation of the +countess and piloted the provincial Rostovs in Petersburg high +society, was to accompany them to the ball. + +They were to call for her at her house in the Taurida Gardens at ten +o'clock, but it was already five minutes to ten, and the girls were +not yet dressed. + +Natasha was going to her first grand ball. She had got up at eight +that morning and had been in a fever of excitement and activity all +day. All her powers since morning had been concentrated on ensuring +that they all--she herself, Mamma, and Sonya--should be as well +dressed as possible. Sonya and her mother put themselves entirely in +her hands. The countess was to wear a claret-colored velvet dress, and +the two girls white gauze over pink silk slips, with roses on their +bodices and their hair dressed a la grecque. + +Everything essential had already been done; feet, hands, necks, +and ears washed, perfumed, and powdered, as befits a ball; the +openwork silk stockings and white satin shoes with ribbons were +already on; the hairdressing was almost done. Sonya was finishing +dressing and so was the countess, but Natasha, who had bustled about +helping them all, was behindhand. She was still sitting before a +looking-glass with a dressing jacket thrown over her slender +shoulders. Sonya stood ready dressed in the middle of the room and, +pressing the head of a pin till it hurt her dainty finger, was +fixing on a last ribbon that squeaked as the pin went through it. + +"That's not the way, that's not the way, Sonya!" cried Natasha +turning her head and clutching with both hands at her hair which the +maid who was dressing it had not time to release. "That bow is not +right. Come here!" + +Sonya sat down and Natasha pinned the ribbon on differently. + +"Allow me, Miss! I can't do it like that," said the maid who was +holding Natasha's hair. + +"Oh, dear! Well then, wait. That's right, Sonya." + +"Aren't you ready? It is nearly ten," came the countess' voice. + +"Directly! Directly! And you, Mamma?" + +"I have only my cap to pin on." + +"Don't do it without me!" called Natasha. "You won't do it right." + +"But it's already ten." + +They had decided to be at the ball by half past ten, and Natasha had +still to get dressed and they had to call at the Taurida Gardens. + +When her hair was done, Natasha, in her short petticoat from under +which her dancing shoes showed, and in her mother's dressing jacket, +ran up to Sonya, scrutinized her, and then ran to her mother. +Turning her mother's head this way and that, she fastened on the cap +and, hurriedly kissing her gray hair, ran back to the maids who were +turning up the hem of her skirt. + +The cause of the delay was Natasha's skirt, which was too long. +Two maids were turning up the hem and hurriedly biting off the ends of +thread. A third with pins in her mouth was running about between the +countess and Sonya, and a fourth held the whole of the gossamer +garment up high on one uplifted hand. + +"Mavra, quicker, darling!" + +"Give me my thimble, Miss, from there..." + +"Whenever will you be ready?" asked the count coming to the door. +"Here is here is some scent. Peronskaya must be tired of waiting." + +"It's ready, Miss," said the maid, holding up the shortened gauze +dress with two fingers, and blowing and shaking something off it, as +if by this to express a consciousness of the airiness and purity of +what she held. + +Natasha began putting on the dress. + +"In a minute! In a minute! Don't come in, Papa!" she cried to her +father as he opened the door--speaking from under the filmy skirt +which still covered her whole face. + +Sonya slammed the door to. A minute later they let the count in. +He was wearing a blue swallow-tail coat, shoes and stockings, and +was perfumed and his hair pomaded. + +"Oh, Papa! how nice you look! Charming!" cried Natasha, as she stood +in the middle of the room smoothing out the folds of the gauze. + +"If you please, Miss! allow me," said the maid, who on her knees was +pulling the skirt straight and shifting the pins from one side of +her mouth to the other with her tongue. + +"Say what you like," exclaimed Sonya, in a despairing voice as she +looked at Natasha, "say what you like, it's still too long." + +Natasha stepped back to look at herself in the pier glass. The dress +was too long. + +"Really, madam, it is not at all too long," said Mavra, crawling +on her knees after her young lady. + +"Well, if it's too long we'll take it up... we'll tack it up in +one minute," said the resolute Dunyasha taking a needle that was stuck +on the front of her little shawl and, still kneeling on the floor, set +to work once more. + +At that moment, with soft steps, the countess came in shyly, in +her cap and velvet gown. + +"Oo-oo, my beauty!" exclaimed the count, "she looks better than +any of you!" + +He would have embraced her but, blushing, she stepped aside +fearing to be rumpled. + +"Mamma, your cap, more to this side," said Natasha. "I'll arrange +it," and she rushed forward so that the maids who were tacking up +her skirt could not move fast enough and a piece of gauze was torn +off. + +"Oh goodness! What has happened? Really it was not my fault!" + +"Never mind, I'll run it up, it won't show," said Dunyasha. + +"What a beauty--a very queen!" said the nurse as she came to the +door. "And Sonya! They are lovely!" + +At a quarter past ten they at last got into their carriages and +started. But they had still to call at the Taurida Gardens. + +Peronskaya was quite ready. In spite of her age and plainness she +had gone through the same process as the Rostovs, but with less +flurry--for to her it was a matter of routine. Her ugly old body was +washed, perfumed, and powdered in just the same way. She had washed +behind her ears just as carefully, and when she entered her drawing +room in her yellow dress, wearing her badge as maid of honor, her +old lady's maid was as full of rapturous admiration as the Rostovs' +servants had been. + +She praised the Rostovs' toilets. They praised her taste and toilet, +and at eleven o'clock, careful of their coiffures and dresses, they +settled themselves in their carriages and drove off. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Natasha had not had a moment free since early morning and had not +once had time to think of what lay before her. + +In the damp chill air and crowded closeness of the swaying carriage, +she for the first time vividly imagined what was in store for her +there at the ball, in those brightly lighted rooms--with music, +flowers, dances, the Emperor, and all the brilliant young people of +Petersburg. The prospect was so splendid that she hardly believed it +would come true, so out of keeping was it with the chill darkness +and closeness of the carriage. She understood all that awaited her +only when, after stepping over the red baize at the entrance, she +entered the hall, took off her fur cloak, and, beside Sonya and in +front of her mother, mounted the brightly illuminated stairs between +the flowers. Only then did she remember how she must behave at a ball, +and tried to assume the majestic air she considered indispensable +for a girl on such an occasion. But, fortunately for her, she felt her +eyes growing misty, she saw nothing clearly, her pulse beat a +hundred to the minute, and the blood throbbed at her heart. She +could not assume that pose, which would have made her ridiculous, +and she moved on almost fainting from excitement and trying with all +her might to conceal it. And this was the very attitude that became +her best. Before and behind them other visitors were entering, also +talking in low tones and wearing ball dresses. The mirrors on the +landing reflected ladies in white, pale-blue, and pink dresses, with +diamonds and pearls on their bare necks and arms. + +Natasha looked in the mirrors and could not distinguish her +reflection from the others. All was blended into one brilliant +procession. On entering the ballroom the regular hum of voices, +footsteps, and greetings deafened Natasha, and the light and glitter +dazzled her still more. The host and hostess, who had already been +standing at the door for half an hour repeating the same words to +the various arrivals, "Charme de vous voir,"* greeted the Rostovs +and Peronskaya in the same manner. + + +*"Delighted to see you." + + +The two girls in their white dresses, each with a rose in her +black hair, both curtsied in the same way, but the hostess' eye +involuntarily rested longer on the slim Natasha. She looked at her and +gave her alone a special smile in addition to her usual smile as +hostess. Looking at her she may have recalled the golden, +irrecoverable days of her own girlhood and her own first ball. The +host also followed Natasha with his eyes and asked the count which was +his daughter. + +"Charming!" said he, kissing the tips of his fingers. + +In the ballroom guests stood crowding at the entrance doors awaiting +the Emperor. The countess took up a position in one of the front +rows of that crowd. Natasha heard and felt that several people were +asking about her and looking at her. She realized that those +noticing her liked her, and this observation helped to calm her. + +"There are some like ourselves and some worse," she thought. + +Peronskaya was pointing out to the countess the most important +people at the ball. + +"That is the Dutch ambassador, do you see? That gray-haired man," +she said, indicating an old man with a profusion of silver-gray +curly hair, who was surrounded by ladies laughing at something he +said. + +"Ah, here she is, the Queen of Petersburg, Countess Bezukhova," said +Peronskaya, indicating Helene who had just entered. "How lovely! She +is quite equal to Marya Antonovna. See how the men, young and old, pay +court to her. Beautiful and clever... they say Prince--is quite mad +about her. But see, those two, though not good-looking, are even +more run after." + +She pointed to a lady who was crossing the room followed by a very +plain daughter. + +"She is a splendid match, a millionairess," said Peronskaya. "And +look, here come her suitors." + +"That is Bezukhova's brother, Anatole Kuragin," she said, indicating +a handsome officer of the Horse Guards who passed by them with head +erect, looking at something over the heads of the ladies. "He's +handsome, isn't he? I hear they will marry him to that rich girl. +But your cousin, Drubetskoy, is also very attentive to her. They say +she has millions. Oh yes, that's the French ambassador himself!" she +replied to the countess' inquiry about Caulaincourt. "Looks as if he +were a king! All the same, the French are charming, very charming. +No one more charming in society. Ah, here she is! Yes, she is still +the most beautiful of them all, our Marya Antonovna! And how simply +she is dressed! Lovely! And that stout one in spectacles is the +universal Freemason," she went on, indicating Pierre. "Put him +beside his wife and he looks a regular buffoon!" + +Pierre, swaying his stout body, advanced, making way through the +crowd and nodding to right and left as casually and good-naturedly +as if he were passing through a crowd at a fair. He pushed through, +evidently looking for someone. + +Natasha looked joyfully at the familiar face of Pierre, "the +buffoon," as Peronskaya had called him, and knew he was looking for +them, and for her in particular. He had promised to be at the ball and +introduce partners to her. + +But before he reached them Pierre stopped beside a very handsome, +dark man of middle height, and in a white uniform, who stood by a +window talking to a tall man wearing stars and a ribbon. Natasha at +once recognized the shorter and younger man in the white uniform: it +was Bolkonski, who seemed to her to have grown much younger, +happier, and better-looking. + +"There's someone else we know--Bolkonski, do you see, Mamma?" said +Natasha, pointing out Prince Andrew. "You remember, he stayed a +night with us at Otradnoe." + +"Oh, you know him?" said Peronskaya. "I can't bear him. Il fait a +present la pluie et le beau temps.* He's too proud for anything. +Takes after his father. And he's hand in glove with Speranski, writing +some project or other. Just look how he treats the ladies! There's one +talking to him and he has turned away," she said, pointing at him. +"I'd give it to him if he treated me as he does those ladies." + + +*"He is all the rage just now. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Suddenly everybody stirred, began talking, and pressed forward and +then back, and between the two rows, which separated, the Emperor +entered to the sounds of music that had immediately struck up. +Behind him walked his host and hostess. He walked in rapidly, bowing +to right and left as if anxious to get the first moments of the +reception over. The band played the polonaise in vogue at that time on +account of the words that had been set to it, beginning: "Alexander, +Elisaveta, all our hearts you ravish quite..." The Emperor passed on +to the drawing room, the crowd made a rush for the doors, and +several persons with excited faces hurried there and back again. +Then the crowd hastily retired from the drawing-room door, at which +the Emperor reappeared talking to the hostess. A young man, looking +distraught, pounced down on the ladies, asking them to move aside. +Some ladies, with faces betraying complete forgetfulness of all the +rules of decorum, pushed forward to the detriment of their toilets. +The men began to choose partners and take their places for the +polonaise. + +Everyone moved back, and the Emperor came smiling out of the drawing +room leading his hostess by the hand but not keeping time to the +music. The host followed with Marya Antonovna Naryshkina; then came +ambassadors, ministers, and various generals, whom Peronskaya +diligently named. More than half the ladies already had partners and +were taking up, or preparing to take up, their positions for the +polonaise. Natasha felt that she would be left with her mother and +Sonya among a minority of women who crowded near the wall, not +having been invited to dance. She stood with her slender arms +hanging down, her scarcely defined bosom rising and falling regularly, +and with bated breath and glittering, frightened eyes gazed straight +before her, evidently prepared for the height of joy or misery. She +was not concerned about the Emperor or any of those great people +whom Peronskaya was pointing out--she had but one thought: "Is it +possible no one will ask me, that I shall not be among the first to +dance? Is it possible that not one of all these men will notice me? +They do not even seem to see me, or if they do they look as if they +were saying, 'Ah, she's not the one I'm after, so it's not worth +looking at her!' No, it's impossible," she thought. "They must know +how I long to dance, how splendidly I dance, and how they would +enjoy dancing with me." + +The strains of the polonaise, which had continued for a considerable +time, had begun to sound like a sad reminiscence to Natasha's ears. +She wanted to cry. Peronskaya had left them. The count was at the +other end of the room. She and the countess and Sonya were standing by +themselves as in the depths of a forest amid that crowd of +strangers, with no one interested in them and not wanted by anyone. +Prince Andrew with a lady passed by, evidently not recognizing them. +The handsome Anatole was smilingly talking to a partner on his arm and +looked at Natasha as one looks at a wall. Boris passed them twice +and each time turned away. Berg and his wife, who were not dancing, +came up to them. + +This family gathering seemed humiliating to Natasha--as if there +were nowhere else for the family to talk but here at the ball. She did +not listen to or look at Vera, who was telling her something about her +own green dress. + +At last the Emperor stopped beside his last partner (he had danced +with three) and the music ceased. A worried aide-de-camp ran up to the +Rostovs requesting them to stand farther back, though as it was they +were already close to the wall, and from the gallery resounded the +distinct, precise, enticingly rhythmical strains of a waltz. The +Emperor looked smilingly down the room. A minute passed but no one had +yet begun dancing. An aide-de-camp, the Master of Ceremonies, went +up to Countess Bezukhova and asked her to dance. She smilingly +raised her hand and laid it on his shoulder without looking at him. +The aide-de-camp, an adept in his art, grasping his partner firmly +round her waist, with confident deliberation started smoothly, gliding +first round the edge of the circle, then at the corner of the room +he caught Helene's left hand and turned her, the only sound audible, +apart from the ever-quickening music, being the rhythmic click of +the spurs on his rapid, agile feet, while at every third beat his +partner's velvet dress spread out and seemed to flash as she whirled +round. Natasha gazed at them and was ready to cry because it was not +she who was dancing that first turn of the waltz. + +Prince Andrew, in the white uniform of a cavalry colonel, wearing +stockings and dancing shoes, stood looking animated and bright in +the front row of the circle not far from the Rostovs. Baron Firhoff +was talking to him about the first sitting of the Council of State +to be held next day. Prince Andrew, as one closely connected with +Speranski and participating in the work of the legislative commission, +could give reliable information about that sitting, concerning which +various rumors were current. But not listening to what Firhoff was +saying, he was gazing now at the sovereign and now at the men +intending to dance who had not yet gathered courage to enter the +circle. + +Prince Andrew was watching these men abashed by the Emperor's +presence, and the women who were breathlessly longing to be asked to +dance. + +Pierre came up to him and caught him by the arm. + +"You always dance. I have a protegee, the young Rostova, here. Ask +her," he said. + +"Where is she?" asked Bolkonski. "Excuse me!" he added, turning to +the baron, "we will finish this conversation elsewhere--at a ball +one must dance." He stepped forward in the direction Pierre indicated. +The despairing, dejected expression of Natasha's face caught his +eye. He recognized her, guessed her feelings, saw that it was her +debut, remembered her conversation at the window, and with an +expression of pleasure on his face approached Countess Rostova. + +"Allow me to introduce you to my daughter," said the countess, +with heightened color. + +"I have the pleasure of being already acquainted, if the countess +remembers me," said Prince Andrew with a low and courteous bow quite +belying Peronskaya's remarks about his rudeness, and approaching +Natasha he held out his arm to grasp her waist before he had completed +his invitation. He asked her to waltz. That tremulous expression on +Natasha's face, prepared either for despair or rapture, suddenly +brightened into a happy, grateful, childlike smile. + +"I have long been waiting for you," that frightened happy little +girl seemed to say by the smile that replaced the threatened tears, as +she raised her hand to Prince Andrew's shoulder. They were the +second couple to enter the circle. Prince Andrew was one of the best +dancers of his day and Natasha danced exquisitely. Her little feet +in their white satin dancing shoes did their work swiftly, lightly, +and independently of herself, while her face beamed with ecstatic +happiness. Her slender bare arms and neck were not beautiful--compared +to Helene's her shoulders looked thin and her bosom undeveloped. But +Helene seemed, as it were, hardened by a varnish left by the thousands +of looks that had scanned her person, while Natasha was like a girl +exposed for the first time, who would have felt very much ashamed +had she not been assured that this was absolutely necessary. + +Prince Andrew liked dancing, and wishing to escape as quickly as +possible from the political and clever talk which everyone addressed +to him, wishing also to break up the circle of restraint he +disliked, caused by the Emperor's presence, he danced, and had +chosen Natasha because Pierre pointed her out to him and because she +was the first pretty girl who caught his eye; but scarcely had he +embraced that slender supple figure and felt her stirring so close +to him and smiling so near him than the wine of her charm rose to +his head, and he felt himself revived and rejuvenated when after +leaving her he stood breathing deeply and watching the other dancers. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +After Prince Andrew, Boris came up to ask Natasha for dance, and +then the aide-de-camp who had opened the ball, and several other young +men, so that, flushed and happy, and passing on her superfluous +partners to Sonya, she did not cease dancing all the evening. She +noticed and saw nothing of what occupied everyone else. Not only did +she fail to notice that the Emperor talked a long time with the French +ambassador, and how particularly gracious he was to a certain lady, or +that Prince So-and-so and So-and-so did and said this and that, and +that Helene had great success and was honored was by the special +attention of So-and-so, but she did not even see the Emperor, and only +noticed that he had gone because the ball became livelier after his +departure. For one of the merry cotillions before supper Prince Andrew +was again her partner. He reminded her of their first encounter in the +Otradnoe avenue, and how she had been unable to sleep that moonlight +night, and told her how he had involuntarily overheard her. Natasha +blushed at that recollection and tried to excuse herself, as if +there had been something to be ashamed of in what Prince Andrew had +overheard. + +Like all men who have grown up in society, Prince Andrew liked +meeting someone there not of the conventional society stamp. And +such was Natasha, with her surprise, her delight, her shyness, and +even her mistakes in speaking French. With her he behaved with special +care and tenderness, sitting beside her and talking of the simplest +and most unimportant matters; he admired her shy grace. In the +middle of the cotillion, having completed one of the figures, Natasha, +still out of breath, was returning to her seat when another dancer +chose her. She was tired and panting and evidently thought of +declining, but immediately put her hand gaily on the man's shoulder, +smiling at Prince Andrew. + +"I'd be glad to sit beside you and rest: I'm tired; but you see +how they keep asking me, and I'm glad of it, I'm happy and I love +everybody, and you and I understand it all," and much, much more was +said in her smile. When her partner left her Natasha ran across the +room to choose two ladies for the figure. + +"If she goes to her cousin first and then to another lady, she +will be my wife," said Prince Andrew to himself quite to his own +surprise, as he watched her. She did go first to her cousin. + +"What rubbish sometimes enters one's head!" thought Prince Andrew, +"but what is certain is that that girl is so charming, so original, +that she won't be dancing here a month before she will be +married.... Such as she are rare here," he thought, as Natasha, +readjusting a rose that was slipping on her bodice, settled herself +beside him. + +When the cotillion was over the old count in his blue coat came up +to the dancers. He invited Prince Andrew to come and see them, and +asked his daughter whether she was enjoying herself. Natasha did not +answer at once but only looked up with a smile that said +reproachfully: "How can you ask such a question?" + +"I have never enjoyed myself so much before!" she said, and Prince +Andrew noticed how her thin arms rose quickly as if to embrace her +father and instantly dropped again. Natasha was happier than she had +ever been in her life. She was at that height of bliss when one +becomes completely kind and good and does not believe in the +possibility of evil, unhappiness, or sorrow. + +At that ball Pierre for the first time felt humiliated by the +position his wife occupied in court circles. He was gloomy and +absent-minded. A deep furrow ran across his forehead, and standing +by a window he stared over his spectacles seeing no one. + +On her way to supper Natasha passed him. + +Pierre's gloomy, unhappy look struck her. She stopped in front of +him. She wished to help him, to bestow on him the superabundance of +her own happiness. + +"How delightful it is, Count!" said she. "Isn't it?" + +Pierre smiled absent-mindedly, evidently not grasping what she said. + +"Yes, I am very glad," he said. + +"How can people be dissatisfied with anything?" thought Natasha. +"Especially such a capital fellow as Bezukhov!" In Natasha's eyes +all the people at the ball alike were good, kind, and splendid people, +loving one another; none of them capable of injuring another--and so +they ought all to be happy. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Next day Prince Andrew thought of the ball, but his mind did not +dwell on it long. "Yes, it was a very brilliant ball," and then... +"Yes, that little Rostova is very charming. There's something fresh, +original, un-Petersburg-like about her that distinguishes her." That +was all he thought about yesterday's ball, and after his morning tea +he set to work. + +But either from fatigue or want of sleep he was ill-disposed for +work and could get nothing done. He kept criticizing his own work, +as he often did, and was glad when he heard someone coming. + +The visitor was Bitski, who served on various committees, frequented +all the societies in Petersburg, and a passionate devotee of the new +ideas and of Speranski, and a diligent Petersburg newsmonger--one of +those men who choose their opinions like their clothes according to +the fashion, but who for that very reason appear to be the warmest +partisans. Hardly had he got rid of his hat before he ran into +Prince Andrew's room with a preoccupied air and at once began talking. +He had just heard particulars of that morning's sitting of the Council +of State opened by the Emperor, and he spoke of it enthusiastically. +The Emperor's speech had been extraordinary. It had been a speech such +as only constitutional monarchs deliver. "The Sovereign plainly said +that the Council and Senate are estates of the realm, he said that the +government must rest not on authority but on secure bases. The Emperor +said that the fiscal system must be reorganized and the accounts +published," recounted Bitski, emphasizing certain words and opening +his eyes significantly. + +"Ah, yes! Today's events mark an epoch, the greatest epoch in our +history," he concluded. + +Prince Andrew listened to the account of the opening of the +Council of State, which he had so impatiently awaited and to which +he had attached such importance, and was surprised that this event, +now that it had taken place, did not affect him, and even seemed quite +insignificant. He listened with quiet irony to Bitski's enthusiastic +account of it. A very simple thought occurred to him: "What does it +matter to me or to Bitski what the Emperor was pleased to say at the +Council? Can all that make me any happier or better?" + +And this simple reflection suddenly destroyed all the interest +Prince Andrew had felt in the impending reforms. He was going to +dine that evening at Speranski's, "with only a few friends," as the +host had said when inviting him. The prospect of that dinner in the +intimate home circle of the man he so admired had greatly interested +Prince Andrew, especially as he had not yet seen Speranski in his +domestic surroundings, but now he felt disinclined to go to it. + +At the appointed hour, however, he entered the modest house +Speranski owned in the Taurida Gardens. In the parqueted dining room +this small house, remarkable for its extreme cleanliness (suggesting +that of a monastery), Prince Andrew, who was rather late, found the +friendly gathering of Speranski's intimate acquaintances already +assembled at five o'clock. There were no ladies present except +Speranski's little daughter (long-faced like her father) and her +governess. The other guests were Gervais, Magnitski, and Stolypin. +While still in the anteroom Prince Andrew heard loud voices and a +ringing staccato laugh--a laugh such as one hears on the stage. +Someone--it sounded like Speranski--was distinctly ejaculating +ha-ha-ha. Prince Andrew had never before heard Speranski's famous +laugh, and this ringing, high pitched laughter from a statesman made a +strange impression on him. + +He entered the dining room. The whole company were standing +between two windows at a small table laid with hors-d'oeuvres. +Speranski, wearing a gray swallow-tail coat with a star on the breast, +and evidently still the same waistcoat and high white stock he had +worn at the meeting of the Council of State, stood at the table with a +beaming countenance. His guests surrounded him. Magnitski, +addressing himself to Speranski, was relating an anecdote, and +Speranski was laughing in advance at what Magnitski was going to +say. When Prince Andrew entered the room Magnitski's words were +again crowned by laughter. Stolypin gave a deep bass guffaw as he +munched a piece of bread and cheese. Gervais laughed softly with a +hissing chuckle, and Speranski in a high-pitched staccato manner. + +Still laughing, Speranski held out his soft white hand to Prince +Andrew. + +"Very pleased to see you, Prince," he said. "One moment..." he +went on, turning to Magnitski and interrupting his story. "We have +agreed that this is a dinner for recreation, with not a word about +business!" and turning again to the narrator he began to laugh afresh. + +Prince Andrew looked at the laughing Speranski with astonishment, +regret, and disillusionment. It seemed to him that this was not +Speranski but someone else. Everything that had formerly appeared +mysterious and fascinating in Speranski suddenly became plain and +unattractive. + +At dinner the conversation did not cease for a moment and seemed +to consist of the contents of a book of funny anecdotes. Before +Magnitski had finished his story someone else was anxious to relate +something still funnier. Most of the anecdotes, if not relating to the +state service, related to people in the service. It seemed that in +this company the insignificance of those people was so definitely +accepted that the only possible attitude toward them was one of good +humored ridicule. Speranski related how at the Council that morning +a deaf dignitary, when asked his opinion, replied that he thought so +too. Gervais gave a long account of an official revision, remarkable +for the stupidity of everybody concerned. Stolypin, stuttering, +broke into the conversation and began excitedly talking of the +abuses that existed under the former order of things--threatening to +give a serious turn to the conversation. Magnitski starting quizzing +Stolypin about his vehemence. Gervais intervened with a joke, and +the talk reverted to its former lively tone. + +Evidently Speranski liked to rest after his labors and find +amusement in a circle of friends, and his guests, understanding his +wish, tried to enliven him and amuse themselves. But their gaiety +seemed to Prince Andrew mirthless and tiresome. Speranski's +high-pitched voice struck him unpleasantly, and the incessant laughter +grated on him like a false note. Prince Andrew did not laugh and +feared that he would be a damper on the spirits of the company, but no +one took any notice of his being out of harmony with the general mood. +They all seemed very gay. + +He tried several times to join in the conversation, but his +remarks were tossed aside each time like a cork thrown out of the +water, and he could not jest with them. + +There was nothing wrong or unseemly in what they said, it was +witty and might have been funny, but it lacked just that something +which is the salt of mirth, and they were not even aware that such a +thing existed. + +After dinner Speranski's daughter and her governess rose. He +patted the little girl with his white hand and kissed her. And that +gesture, too, seemed unnatural to Prince Andrew. + +The men remained at table over their port--English fashion. In the +midst of a conversation that was started about Napoleon's Spanish +affairs, which they all agreed in approving, Prince Andrew began to +express a contrary opinion. Speranski smiled and, with an evident wish +to prevent the conversation from taking an unpleasant course, told a +story that had no connection with the previous conversation. For a few +moments all were silent. + +Having sat some time at table, Speranski corked a bottle of wine +and, remarking, "Nowadays good wine rides in a carriage and pair," +passed it to the servant and got up. All rose and continuing to talk +loudly went into the drawing room. Two letters brought by a courier +were handed to Speranski and he took them to his study. As soon as +he had left the room the general merriment stopped and the guests +began to converse sensibly and quietly with one another. + +"Now for the recitation!" said Speranski on returning from his +study. "A wonderful talent!" he said to Prince Andrew, and Magnitski +immediately assumed a pose and began reciting some humorous verses +in French which he had composed about various well-known Petersburg +people. He was interrupted several times by applause. When the +verses were finished Prince Andrew went up to Speranski and took his +leave. + +"Where are you off to so early?" asked Speranski. + +"I promised to go to a reception." + +They said no more. Prince Andrew looked closely into those +mirrorlike, impenetrable eyes, and felt that it had been ridiculous of +him to have expected anything from Speranski and from any of his own +activities connected with him, or ever to have attributed importance +to what Speranski was doing. That precise, mirthless laughter rang +in Prince Andrew's ears long after he had left the house. + +When he reached home Prince Andrew began thinking of his life in +Petersburg during those last four months as if it were something +new. He recalled his exertions and solicitations, and the history of +his project of army reform, which had been accepted for +consideration and which they were trying to pass over in silence +simply because another, a very poor one, had already been prepared and +submitted to the Emperor. He thought of the meetings of a committee of +which Berg was a member. He remembered how carefully and at what +length everything relating to form and procedure was discussed at +those meetings, and how sedulously and promptly all that related to +the gist of the business was evaded. He recalled his labors on the +Legal Code, and how painstakingly he had translated the articles of +the Roman and French codes into Russian, and he felt ashamed of +himself. Then he vividly pictured to himself Bogucharovo, his +occupations in the country, his journey to Ryazan; he remembered the +peasants and Dron the village elder, and mentally applying to them the +Personal Rights he had divided into paragraphs, he felt astonished +that he could have spent so much time on such useless work. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Next day Prince Andrew called at a few houses he had not visited +before, and among them at the Rostovs' with whom he had renewed +acquaintance at the ball. Apart from considerations of politeness +which demanded the call, he wanted to see that original, eager girl +who had left such a pleasant impression on his mind, in her own home. + +Natasha was one of the first to meet him. She was wearing a +dark-blue house dress in which Prince Andrew thought her even prettier +than in her ball dress. She and all the Rostov family welcomed him +as an old friend, simply and cordially. The whole family, whom he +had formerly judged severely, now seemed to him to consist of +excellent, simple, and kindly people. The old count's hospitality +and good nature, which struck one especially in Petersburg as a +pleasant surprise, were such that Prince Andrew could not refuse to +stay to dinner. "Yes," he thought, "they are capital people, who of +course have not the slightest idea what a treasure they possess in +Natasha; but they are kindly folk and form the best possible setting +for this strikingly poetic, charming girl, overflowing with life!" + +In Natasha Prince Andrew was conscious of a strange world completely +alien to him and brimful of joys unknown to him, a different world, +that in the Otradnoe avenue and at the window that moonlight night had +already begun to disconcert him. Now this world disconcerted him no +longer and was no longer alien to him, but he himself having entered +it found in it a new enjoyment. + +After dinner Natasha, at Prince Andrew's request, went to the +clavichord and began singing. Prince Andrew stood by a window +talking to the ladies and listened to her. In the midst of a phrase he +ceased speaking and suddenly felt tears choking him, a thing he had +thought impossible for him. He looked at Natasha as she sang, and +something new and joyful stirred in his soul. He felt happy and at the +same time sad. He had absolutely nothing to weep about yet he was +ready to weep. What about? His former love? The little princess? His +disillusionments?... His hopes for the future?... Yes and no. The +chief reason was a sudden, vivid sense of the terrible contrast +between something infinitely great and illimitable within him and that +limited and material something that he, and even she, was. This +contrast weighed on and yet cheered him while she sang. + +As soon as Natasha had finished she went up to him and asked how +he liked her voice. She asked this and then became confused, feeling +that she ought not to have asked it. He smiled, looking at her, and +said he liked her singing as he liked everything she did. + +Prince Andrew left the Rostovs' late in the evening. He went to +bed from habit, but soon realized that he could not sleep. Having +lit his candle he sat up in bed, then got up, then lay down again +not at all troubled by his sleeplessness: his soul was as fresh and +joyful as if he had stepped out of a stuffy room into God's own +fresh air. It did not enter his head that he was in love with Natasha; +he was not thinking about her, but only picturing her to himself, +and in consequence all life appeared in a new light. "Why do I strive, +why do I toil in this narrow, confined frame, when life, all life with +all its joys, is open to me?" said he to himself. And for the first +time for a very long while he began making happy plans for the future. +He decided that he must attend to his son's education by finding a +tutor and putting the boy in his charge, then he ought to retire +from the service and go abroad, and see England, Switzerland and +Italy. "I must use my freedom while I feel so much strength and +youth in me," he said to himself. "Pierre was right when he said one +must believe in the possibility of happiness in order to be happy, and +now I do believe in it. Let the dead bury their dead, but while one +has life one must live and be happy!" thought he. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +One morning Colonel Berg, whom Pierre knew as he knew everybody in +Moscow and Petersburg, came to see him. Berg arrived in an +immaculate brand-new uniform, with his hair pomaded and brushed +forward over his temples as the Emperor Alexander wore his hair. + +"I have just been to see the countess, your wife. Unfortunately +she could not grant my request, but I hope, Count, I shall be more +fortunate with you," he said with a smile. + +"What is it you wish, Colonel? I am at your service." + +"I have now quite settled in my new rooms, Count" (Berg said this +with perfect conviction that this information could not but be +agreeable), "and so I wish to arrange just a small party for my own +and my wife's friends." (He smiled still more pleasantly.) "I wished +to ask the countess and you to do me the honor of coming to tea and to +supper." + +Only Countess Helene, considering the society of such people as +the Bergs beneath her, could be cruel enough to refuse such an +invitation. Berg explained so clearly why he wanted to collect at +his house a small but select company, and why this would give him +pleasure, and why though he grudged spending money on cards or +anything harmful, he was prepared to run into some expense for the +sake of good society--that Pierre could not refuse, and promised to +come. + +"But don't be late, Count, if I may venture to ask; about ten +minutes to eight, please. We shall make up a rubber. Our general is +coming. He is very good to me. We shall have supper, Count. So you +will do me the favor." + +Contrary to his habit of being late, Pierre on that day arrived at +the Bergs' house, not at ten but at fifteen minutes to eight. + +Having prepared everything necessary for the party, the Bergs were +ready for their guests' arrival. + +In their new, clean, and light study with its small busts and +pictures and new furniture sat Berg and his wife. Berg, closely +buttoned up in his new uniform, sat beside his wife explaining to +her that one always could and should be acquainted with people above +one, because only then does one get satisfaction from acquaintances. + +"You can get to know something, you can ask for something. See how I +managed from my first promotion." (Berg measured his life not by years +but by promotions.) "My comrades are still nobodies, while I am only +waiting for a vacancy to command a regiment, and have the happiness to +be your husband." (He rose and kissed Vera's hand, and on the way to +her straightened out a turned-up corner of the carpet.) "And how +have I obtained all this? Chiefly by knowing how to choose my +aquaintances. It goes without saying that one must be conscientious +and methodical." + +Berg smiled with a sense of his superiority over a weak woman, and +paused, reflecting that this dear wife of his was after all but a weak +woman who could not understand all that constitutes a man's dignity, +what it was ein Mann zu sein.* Vera at the same time smiling with a +sense of superiority over her good, conscientious husband, who all the +same understood life wrongly, as according to Vera all men did. +Berg, judging by his wife, thought all women weak and foolish. Vera, +judging only by her husband and generalizing from that observation, +supposed that all men, though they understand nothing and are +conceited and selfish, ascribe common sense to themselves alone. + + +*To be a man. + + +Berg rose and embraced his wife carefully, so as not to crush her +lace fichu for which he had paid a good price, kissing her straight on +the lips. + +"The only thing is, we mustn't have children too soon," he +continued, following an unconscious sequence of ideas. + +"Yes," answered Vera, "I don't at all want that. We must live for +society." + +"Princess Yusupova wore one exactly like this," said Berg, +pointing to the fichu with a happy and kindly smile. + +Just then Count Bezukhov was announced. Husband and wife glanced +at one another, both smiling with self-satisfaction, and each mentally +claiming the honor of this visit. + +"This is what what comes of knowing how to make acquaintances," +thought Berg. "This is what comes of knowing how to conduct oneself." + +"But please don't interrupt me when I am entertaining the guests," +said Vera, "because I know what interests each of them and what to say +to different people." + +Berg smiled again. + +"It can't be helped: men must sometimes have masculine +conversation," said he. + +They received Pierre in their small, new drawing-room, where it +was impossible to sit down anywhere without disturbing its symmetry, +neatness, and order; so it was quite comprehensible and not strange +that Berg, having generously offered to disturb the symmetry of an +armchair or of the sofa for his dear guest, but being apparently +painfully undecided on the matter himself, eventually left the visitor +to settle the question of selection. Pierre disturbed the symmetry +by moving a chair for himself, and Berg and Vera immediately began +their evening party, interrupting each other in their efforts to +entertain their guest. + +Vera, having decided in her own mind that Pierre ought to be +entertained with conversation about the French embassy, at once +began accordingly. Berg, having decided that masculine conversation +was required, interrupted his wife's remarks and touched on the +question of the war with Austria, and unconsciously jumped from the +general subject to personal considerations as to the proposals made +him to take part in the Austrian campaign and the reasons why he had +declined them. Though the conversation was very incoherent and Vera +was angry at the intrusion of the masculine element, both husband +and wife felt with satisfaction that, even if only one guest was +present, their evening had begun very well and was as like as two peas +to every other evening party with its talk, tea, and lighted candles. + +Before long Boris, Berg's old comrade, arrived. There was a shade of +condescension and patronage in his treatment of Berg and Vera. After +Boris came a lady with the colonel, then the general himself, then the +Rostovs, and the party became unquestionably exactly like all other +evening parties. Berg and Vera could not repress their smiles of +satisfaction at the sight of all this movement in their drawing +room, at the sound of the disconnected talk, the rustling of +dresses, and the bowing and scraping. Everything was just as everybody +always has it, especially so the general, who admired the apartment, +patted Berg on the shoulder, and with parental authority superintended +the setting out of the table for boston. The general sat down by Count +Ilya Rostov, who was next to himself the most important guest. The old +people sat with the old, the young with the young, and the hostess +at the tea table, on which stood exactly the same kind of cakes in a +silver cake basket as the Panins had at their party. Everything was +just as it was everywhere else. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +Pierre, as one of the principal guests, had to sit down to boston +with Count Rostov, the general, and the colonel. At the card table +he happened to be directly facing Natasha, and was struck by a curious +change that had come over her since the ball. She was silent, and +not only less pretty than at the ball, but only redeemed from +plainness by her look of gentle indifference to everything around. + +"What's the matter with her?" thought Pierre, glancing at her. She +was sitting by her sister at the tea table, and reluctantly, without +looking at him, made some reply to Boris who sat down beside her. +After playing out a whole suit and to his partner's delight taking +five tricks, Pierre, hearing greetings and the steps of someone who +had entered the room while he was picking up his tricks, glanced again +at Natasha. + +"What has happened to her?" he asked himself with still greater +surprise. + +Prince Andrew was standing before her, saying something to her +with a look of tender solicitude. She, having raised her head, was +looking up at him, flushed and evidently trying to master her rapid +breathing. And the bright glow of some inner fire that had been +suppressed was again alight in her. She was completely transformed and +from a plain girl had again become what she had been at the ball. + +Prince Andrew went up to Pierre, and the latter noticed a new and +youthful expression in his friend's face. + +Pierre changed places several times during the game, sitting now +with his back to Natasha and now facing her, but during the whole of +the six rubbers he watched her and his friend. + +"Something very important is happening between them," thought +Pierre, and a feeling that was both joyful and painful agitated him +and made him neglect the game. + +After six rubbers the general got up, saying that it was no use +playing like that, and Pierre was released. Natasha on one side was +talking with Sonya and Boris, and Vera with a subtle smile was +saying something to Prince Andrew. Pierre went up to his friend and, +asking whether they were talking secrets, sat down beside them. +Vera, having noticed Prince Andrew's attentions to Natasha, decided +that at a party, a real evening party, subtle allusions to the +tender passion were absolutely necessary and, seizing a moment when +Prince Andrew was alone, began a conversation with him about +feelings in general and about her sister. With so intellectual a guest +as she considered Prince Andrew to be, she felt that she had to employ +her diplomatic tact. + +When Pierre went up to them he noticed that Vera was being carried +away by her self-satisfied talk, but that Prince Andrew seemed +embarrassed, a thing that rarely happened with him. + +"What do you think?" Vera was saying with an arch smile. "You are so +discerning, Prince, and understand people's characters so well at a +glance. What do you think of Natalie? Could she be constant in her +attachments? Could she, like other women" (Vera meant herself), +"love a man once for all and remain true to him forever? That is +what I consider true love. What do you think, Prince?" + +"I know your sister too little," replied Prince Andrew, with a +sarcastic smile under which he wished to hide his embarrassment, "to +be able to solve so delicate a question, and then I have noticed +that the less attractive a woman is the more constant she is likely to +be," he added, and looked up Pierre who was just approaching them. + +"Yes, that is true, Prince. In our days," continued Vera--mentioning +"our days" as people of limited intelligence are fond of doing, +imagining that they have discovered and appraised the peculiarities of +"our days" and that human characteristics change with the times--"in +our days a girl has so much freedom that the pleasure of being courted +often stifles real feeling in her. And it must be confessed that +Natalie is very susceptible." This return to the subject of Natalie +caused Prince Andrew to knit his brows with discomfort: he was about +to rise, but Vera continued with a still more subtle smile: + +"I think no one has been more courted than she," she went on, "but +till quite lately she never cared seriously for anyone. Now you +know, Count," she said to Pierre, "even our dear cousin Boris, who, +between ourselves, was very far gone in the land of tenderness..." +(alluding to a map of love much in vogue at that time). + +Prince Andrew frowned and remained silent. + +"You are friendly with Boris, aren't you?" asked Vera. + +"Yes, I know him..." + +"I expect he has told you of his childish love for Natasha?" + +"Oh, there was childish love?" suddenly asked Prince Andrew, +blushing unexpectedly. + +"Yes, you know between cousins intimacy often leads to love. Le +cousinage est un dangereux voisinage.* Don't you think so?" + + +*"Cousinhood is a dangerous neighborhood." + + +"Oh, undoubtedly!" said Prince Andrew, and with sudden and unnatural +liveliness he began chaffing Pierre about the need to be very +careful with his fifty-year-old Moscow cousins, and in the midst of +these jesting remarks he rose, taking Pierre by the arm, and drew +him aside. + +"Well?" asked Pierre, seeing his friend's strange animation with +surprise, and noticing the glance he turned on Natasha as he rose. + +"I must... I must have a talk with you," said Prince Andrew. "You +know that pair of women's gloves?" (He referred to the Masonic +gloves given to a newly initiated Brother to present to the woman he +loved.) "I... but no, I will talk to you later on," and with a strange +light in his eyes and restlessness in his movements, Prince Andrew +approached Natasha and sat down beside her. Pierre saw how Prince +Andrew asked her something and how she flushed as she replied. + +But at that moment Berg came to Pierre and began insisting that he +should take part in an argument between the general and the colonel on +the affairs in Spain. + +Berg was satisfied and happy. The smile of pleasure never left his +face. The party was very successful and quite like other parties he +had seen. Everything was similar: the ladies' subtle talk, the +cards, the general raising his voice at the card table, and the +samovar and the tea cakes; only one thing was lacking that he had +always seen at the evening parties he wished to imitate. They had +not yet had a loud conversation among the men and a dispute about +something important and clever. Now the general had begun such a +discussion and so Berg drew Pierre to it. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Next day, having been invited by the count, Prince Andrew dined with +the Rostovs and spent the rest of the day there. + +Everyone in the house realized for whose sake Prince Andrew came, +and without concealing it he tried to be with Natasha all day. Not +only in the soul of the frightened yet happy and enraptured Natasha, +but in the whole house, there was a feeling of awe at something +important that was bound to happen. The countess looked with sad and +sternly serious eyes at Prince Andrew when he talked to Natasha and +timidly started some artificial conversation about trifles as soon +as he looked her way. Sonya was afraid to leave Natasha and afraid +of being in the way when she was with them. Natasha grew pale, in a +panic of expectation, when she remained alone with him for a moment. +Prince Andrew surprised her by his timidity. She felt that he wanted +to say something to her but could not bring himself to do so. + +In the evening, when Prince Andrew had left, the countess went up to +Natasha and whispered: "Well, what?" + +"Mamma! For heaven's sake don't ask me anything now! One can't +talk about that," said Natasha. + +But all the same that night Natasha, now agitated and now +frightened, lay a long time in her mother's bed gazing straight +before her. She told her how he had complimented her, how he told +her he was going abroad, asked her where they were going to spend +the summer, and then how he had asked her about Boris. + +"But such a... such a... never happened to me before!" she said. +"Only I feel afraid in his presence. I am always afraid when I'm +with him. What does that mean? Does it mean that it's the real +thing? Yes? Mamma, are you asleep?" + +"No, my love; I am frightened myself," answered her mother. "Now +go!" + +"All the same I shan't sleep. What silliness, to sleep! Mummy! +Mummy! such a thing never happened to me before," she said, +surprised and alarmed at the feeling she was aware of in herself. "And +could we ever have thought!..." + +It seemed to Natasha that even at the time she first saw Prince +Andrew at Otradnoe she had fallen in love with him. It was as if she +feared this strange, unexpected happiness of meeting again the very +man she had then chosen (she was firmly convinced she had done so) and +of finding him, as it seemed, not indifferent to her. + +"And it had to happen that he should come specially to Petersburg +while we are here. And it had to happen that we should meet at that +ball. It is fate. Clearly it is fate that everything led up to this! +Already then, directly I saw him I felt something peculiar." + +"What else did he say to you? What are those verses? Read them..." +said her mother, thoughtfully, referring to some verses Prince +Andrew had written in Natasha's album. + +"Mamma, one need not be ashamed of his being a widower?" + +"Don't, Natasha! Pray to God. 'Marriages are made in heaven,'" +said her mother. + +"Darling Mummy, how I love you! How happy I am!" cried Natasha, +shedding tears of joy and excitement and embracing her mother. + +At that very time Prince Andrew was sitting with Pierre and +telling him of his love for Natasha and his firm resolve to make her +his wife. + +That day Countess Helene had a reception at her house. The French +ambassador was there, and a foreign prince of the blood who had of +late become a frequent visitor of hers, and many brilliant ladies +and gentlemen. Pierre, who had come downstairs, walked through the +rooms and struck everyone by his preoccupied, absent-minded, and +morose air. + +Since the ball he had felt the approach of a fit of nervous +depression and had made desperate efforts to combat it. Since the +intimacy of his wife with the royal prince, Pierre had unexpectedly +been made a gentleman of the bedchamber, and from that time he had +begun to feel oppressed and ashamed in court society, and dark +thoughts of the vanity of all things human came to him oftener than +before. At the same time the feeling he had noticed between his +protegee Natasha and Prince Andrew accentuated his gloom by the +contrast between his own position and his friend's. He tried equally +to avoid thinking about his wife, and about Natasha and Prince Andrew; +and again everything seemed to him insignificant in comparison with +eternity; again the question: for what? presented itself; and he +forced himself to work day and night at Masonic labors, hoping to +drive away the evil spirit that threatened him. Toward midnight, after +he had left the countess' apartments, he was sitting upstairs in a +shabby dressing gown, copying out the original transaction of the +Scottish lodge of Freemasons at a table in his low room cloudy with +tobacco smoke, when someone came in. It was Prince Andrew. + +"Ah, it's you!" said Pierre with a preoccupied, dissatisfied air. +"And I, you see, am hard at it." He pointed to his manuscript book +with that air of escaping from the ills of life with which unhappy +people look at their work. + +Prince Andrew, with a beaming, ecstatic expression of renewed life +on his face, paused in front of Pierre and, not noticing his sad look, +smiled at him with the egotism of joy. + +"Well, dear heart," said he, "I wanted to tell you about it +yesterday and I have come to do so today. I never experienced anything +like it before. I am in love, my friend!" + +Suddenly Pierre heaved a deep sigh and dumped his heavy person +down on the sofa beside Prince Andrew. + +"With Natasha Rostova, yes?" said he. + +"Yes, yes! Who else should it be? I should never have believed it, +but the feeling is stronger than I. Yesterday I tormented myself and +suffered, but I would not exchange even that torment for anything in +the world, I have not lived till now. At last I live, but I can't live +without her! But can she love me?... I am too old for her.... Why +don't you speak?" + +"I? I? What did I tell you?" said Pierre suddenly, rising and +beginning to pace up and down the room. "I always thought it.... +That girl is such a treasure... she is a rare girl.... My dear friend, +I entreat you, don't philosophize, don't doubt, marry, marry, +marry.... And I am sure there will not be a happier man than you." + +"But what of her?" + +"She loves you." + +"Don't talk rubbish..." said Prince Andrew, smiling and looking into +Pierre's eyes. + +"She does, I know," Pierre cried fiercely. + +"But do listen," returned Prince Andrew, holding him by the arm. "Do +you know the condition I am in? I must talk about it to someone." + +"Well, go on, go on. I am very glad," said Pierre, and his face +really changed, his brow became smooth, and he listened gladly to +Prince Andrew. Prince Andrew seemed, and really was, quite a +different, quite a new man. Where was his spleen, his contempt for +life, his disillusionment? Pierre was the only person to whom he +made up his mind to speak openly; and to him he told all that was in +his soul. Now he boldly and lightly made plans for an extended future, +said he could not sacrifice his own happiness to his father's caprice, +and spoke of how he would either make his father consent to this +marriage and love her, or would do without his consent; then he +marveled at the feeling that had mastered him as at something strange, +apart from and independent of himself. + +"I should not have believed anyone who told me that I was capable of +such love," said Prince Andrew. "It is not at all the same feeling +that I knew in the past. The whole world is now for me divided into +two halves: one half is she, and there all is joy, hope, light: the +other half is everything where she is not, and there is all gloom +and darkness...." + +"Darkness and gloom," reiterated Pierre: "yes, yes, I understand +that." + +"I cannot help loving the light, it is not my fault. And I am very +happy! You understand me? I know you are glad for my sake." + +"Yes, yes," Pierre assented, looking at his friend with a touched +and sad expression in his eyes. The brighter Prince Andrew's lot +appeared to him, the gloomier seemed his own. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +Prince Andrew needed his father's consent to his marriage, and to +obtain this he started for the country next day. + +His father received his son's communication with external composure, +but inward wrath. He could not comprehend how anyone could wish to +alter his life or introduce anything new into it, when his own life +was already ending. "If only they would let me end my days as I want +to," thought the old man, "then they might do as they please." With +his son, however, he employed the diplomacy he reserved for +important occasions and, adopting a quiet tone, discussed the whole +matter. + +In the first place the marriage was not a brilliant one as regards +birth, wealth, or rank. Secondly, Prince Andrew was no longer as young +as he had been and his health was poor (the old man laid special +stress on this), while she was very young. Thirdly, he had a son +whom it would be a pity to entrust to a chit of a girl. "Fourthly +and finally," the father said, looking ironically at his son, "I beg +you to put it off for a year: go abroad, take a cure, look out as +you wanted to for a German tutor for Prince Nicholas. Then if your +love or passion or obstinacy--as you please--is still as great, marry! +And that's my last word on it. Mind, the last..." concluded the +prince, in a tone which showed that nothing would make him alter his +decision. + +Prince Andrew saw clearly that the old man hoped that his +feelings, or his fiancee's, would not stand a year's test, or that +he (the old prince himself) would die before then, and he decided to +conform to his father's wish--to propose, and postpone the wedding for +a year. + +Three weeks after the last evening he had spent with the Rostovs, +Prince Andrew returned to Petersburg. + + +Next day after her talk with her mother Natasha expected Bolkonski +all day, but he did not come. On the second and third day it was the +same. Pierre did not come either and Natasha, not knowing that +Prince Andrew had gone to see his father, could not explain his +absence to herself. + +Three weeks passed in this way. Natasha had no desire to go out +anywhere and wandered from room to room like a shadow, idle and +listless; she wept secretly at night and did not go to her mother in +the evenings. She blushed continually and was irritable. It seemed +to her that everybody knew about her disappointment and was laughing +at her and pitying her. Strong as was her inward grief, this wound +to her vanity intensified her misery. + +Once she came to her mother, tried to say something, and suddenly +began to cry. Her tears were those of an offended child who does not +know why it is being punished. + +The countess began to soothe Natasha, who after first listening to +her mother's words, suddenly interrupted her: + +"Leave off, Mamma! I don't think, and don't want to think about +it! He just came and then left off, left off..." + +Her voice trembled, and she again nearly cried, but recovered and +went on quietly: + +"And I don't at all want to get married. And I am afraid of him; I +have now become quite calm, quite calm." + +The day after this conversation Natasha put on the old dress which +she knew had the peculiar property of conducing to cheerfulness in the +mornings, and that day she returned to the old way of life which she +had abandoned since the ball. Having finished her morning tea she went +to the ballroom, which she particularly liked for its loud +resonance, and began singing her solfeggio. When she had finished +her first exercise she stood still in the middle of the room and +sang a musical phrase that particularly pleased her. She listened +joyfully (as though she had not expected it) to the charm of the notes +reverberating, filling the whole empty ballroom, and slowly dying +away; and all at once she felt cheerful. "What's the good of making so +much of it? Things are nice as it is," she said to herself, and she +began walking up and down the room, not stepping simply on the +resounding parquet but treading with each step from the heel to the +toe (she had on a new and favorite pair of shoes) and listening to the +regular tap of the heel and creak of the toe as gladly as she had to +the sounds of her own voice. Passing a mirror she glanced into it. +"There, that's me!" the expression of her face seemed to say as she +caught sight of herself. "Well, and very nice too! I need nobody." + +A footman wanted to come in to clear away something in the room +but she would not let him, and having closed the door behind him +continued her walk. That morning she had returned to her favorite +mood--love of, and delight in, herself. "How charming that Natasha +is!" she said again, speaking as some third, collective, male +person. "Pretty, a good voice, young, and in nobody's way if only they +leave her in peace." But however much they left her in peace she could +not now be at peace, and immediately felt this. + +In the hall the porch door opened, and someone asked, "At home?" and +then footsteps were heard. Natasha was looking at the mirror, but +did not see herself. She listened to the sounds in the hall. When +she saw herself, her face was pale. It was he. She knew this for +certain, though she hardly heard his voice through the closed doors. + +Pale and agitated, Natasha ran into the drawing room. + +"Mamma! Bolkonski has come!" she said. "Mamma, it is awful, it is +unbearable! I don't want... to be tormented? What am I to do?..." + +Before the countess could answer, Prince Andrew entered the room +with an agitated and serious face. As soon as he saw Natasha his +face brightened. He kissed the countess' hand and Natasha's, and sat +down beside the sofa. + +"It is long since we had the pleasure..." began the countess, but +Prince Andrew interrupted her by answering her intended question, +obviously in haste to say what he had to. + +"I have not been to see all this time because I have been at my +father's. I had to talk over a very important matter with him. I +only got back last night," he said glancing at Natasha; "I want to +have a talk with you, Countess," he added after a moment's pause. + +The countess lowered her eyes, sighing deeply. + +"I am at your disposal," she murmured. + +Natasha knew that she ought to go away, but was unable to do so: +something gripped her throat, and regardless of manners she stared +straight at Prince Andrew with wide-open eyes. + +"At once? This instant!... No, it can't be!" she thought. + +Again he glanced at her, and that glance convinced her that she +was not mistaken. Yes, at once, that very instant, her fate would be +decided. + +"Go, Natasha! I will call you," said the countess in a whisper. + +Natasha glanced with frightened imploring eyes at Prince Andrew +and at her mother and went out. + +"I have come, Countess, to ask for your daughter's hand," said +Prince Andrew. + +The countess' face flushed hotly, but she said nothing. + +"Your offer..." she began at last sedately. He remained silent, +looking into her eyes. "Your offer..." (she grew confused) "is +agreeable to us, and I accept your offer. I am glad. And my husband... +I hope... but it will depend on her...." + +"I will speak to her when I have your consent.... Do you give it +to me?" said Prince Andrew. + +"Yes," replied the countess. She held out her hand to him, and +with a mixed feeling of estrangement and tenderness pressed her lips +to his forehead as he stooped to kiss her hand. She wished to love him +as a son, but felt that to her he was a stranger and a terrifying man. +"I am sure my husband will consent," said the countess, "but your +father..." + +"My father, to whom I have told my plans, has made it an express +condition of his consent that the wedding is not to take place for a +year. And I wished to tell you of that," said Prince Andrew. + +"It is true that Natasha is still young, but--so long as that?..." + +"It is unavoidable," said Prince Andrew with a sigh. + +"I will send her to you," said the countess, and left the room. + +"Lord have mercy upon us!" she repeated while seeking her daughter. + +Sonya said that Natasha was in her bedroom. Natasha was sitting on +the bed, pale and dry eyed, and was gazing at the icons and whispering +something as she rapidly crossed herself. Seeing her mother she jumped +up and flew to her. + +"Well, Mamma?... Well?..." + +"Go, go to him. He is asking for your hand," said the countess, +coldly it seemed to Natasha. "Go... go," said the mother, sadly and +reproachfully, with a deep sigh, as her daughter ran away. + +Natasha never remembered how she entered the drawing room. When +she came in and saw him she paused. "Is it possible that this stranger +has now become everything to me?" she asked herself, and immediately +answered, "Yes, everything! He alone is now dearer to me than +everything in the world." Prince Andrew came up to her with downcast +eyes. + +"I have loved you from the very first moment I saw you. May I hope?" + +He looked at her and was struck by the serious impassioned +expression of her face. Her face said: "Why ask? Why doubt what you +cannot but know? Why speak, when words cannot express what one feels?" + +She drew near to him and stopped. He took her hand and kissed it. + +"Do you love me?" + +"Yes, yes!" Natasha murmured as if in vexation. Then she sighed +loudly and, catching her breath more and more quickly, began to sob. + +"What is it? What's the matter?" + +"Oh, I am so happy!" she replied, smiled through her tears, bent +over closer to him, paused for an instant as if asking herself whether +she might, and then kissed him. + +Prince Andrew held her hands, looked into her eyes, and did not find +in his heart his former love for her. Something in him had suddenly +changed; there was no longer the former poetic and mystic charm of +desire, but there was pity for her feminine and childish weakness, +fear at her devotion and trustfulness, and an oppressive yet joyful +sense of the duty that now bound him to her forever. The present +feeling, though not so bright and poetic as the former, was stronger +and more serious. + +"Did your mother tell you that it cannot be for a year?" asked +Prince Andrew, still looking into her eyes. + +"Is it possible that I--the 'chit of a girl,' as everybody called +me," thought Natasha--"is it possible that I am now to be the wife and +the equal of this strange, dear, clever man whom even my father +looks up to? Can it be true? Can it be true that there can be no +more playing with life, that now I am grown up, that on me now lies +a responsibility for my every word and deed? Yes, but what did he +ask me?" + +"No," she replied, but she had not understood his question. + +"Forgive me!" he said. "But you are so young, and I have already +been through so much in life. I am afraid for you, you do not yet know +yourself." + +Natasha listened with concentrated attention, trying but failing +to take in the meaning of his words. + +"Hard as this year which delays my happiness will be," continued +Prince Andrew, "it will give you time to be sure of yourself. I ask +you to make me happy in a year, but you are free: our engagement shall +remain a secret, and should you find that you do not love me, or +should you come to love..." said Prince Andrew with an unnatural +smile. + +"Why do you say that?" Natasha interrupted him. "You know that +from the very day you first came to Otradnoe I have loved you," she +cried, quite convinced that she spoke the truth. + +"In a year you will learn to know yourself...." + +"A whole year!" Natasha repeated suddenly, only now realizing that +the marriage was to be postponed for a year. "But why a year? Why a +year?..." + +Prince Andrew began to explain to her the reasons for this delay. +Natasha did not hear him. + +"And can't it be helped?" she asked. Prince Andrew did not reply, +but his face expressed the impossibility of altering that decision. + +"It's awful! Oh, it's awful! awful!" Natasha suddenly cried, and +again burst into sobs. "I shall die, waiting a year: it's +impossible, it's awful!" She looked into her lover's face and saw in +it a look of commiseration and perplexity. + +"No, no! I'll do anything!" she said, suddenly checking her tears. +"I am so happy." + +The father and mother came into the room and gave the betrothed +couple their blessing. + +From that day Prince Andrew began to frequent the Rostovs' as +Natasha's affianced lover. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +No betrothal ceremony took place and Natasha's engagement to +Bolkonski was not announced; Prince Andrew insisted on that. He said +that as he was responsible for the delay he ought to bear the whole +burden of it; that he had given his word and bound himself forever, +but that he did not wish to bind Natasha and gave her perfect freedom. +If after six months she felt that she did not love him she would +have full right to reject him. Naturally neither Natasha nor her +parents wished to hear of this, but Prince Andrew was firm. He came +every day to the Rostovs', but did not behave to Natasha as an +affianced lover: he did not use the familiar thou, but said you to +her, and kissed only her hand. After their engagement, quite +different, intimate, and natural relations sprang up between them. +It was as if they had not known each other till now. Both liked to +recall how they had regarded each other when as yet they were +nothing to one another; they felt themselves now quite different +beings: then they were artificial, now natural and sincere. At first +the family felt some constraint in intercourse with Prince Andrew; +he seemed a man from another world, and for a long time Natasha +trained the family to get used to him, proudly assuring them all +that he only appeared to be different, but was really just like all of +them, and that she was not afraid of him and no one else ought to +be. After a few days they grew accustomed to him, and without +restraint in his presence pursued their usual way of life, in which he +took his part. He could talk about rural economy with the count, +fashions with the countess and Natasha, and about albums and fancywork +with Sonya. Sometimes the household both among themselves and in his +presence expressed their wonder at how it had all happened, and at the +evident omens there had been of it: Prince Andrew's coming to Otradnoe +and their coming to Petersburg, and the likeness between Natasha and +Prince Andrew which her nurse had noticed on his first visit, and +Andrew's encounter with Nicholas in 1805, and many other incidents +betokening that it had to be. + +In the house that poetic dullness and quiet reigned which always +accompanies the presence of a betrothed couple. Often when all sitting +together everyone kept silent. Sometimes the others would get up and +go away and the couple, left alone, still remained silent. They rarely +spoke of their future life. Prince Andrew was afraid and ashamed to +speak of it. Natasha shared this as she did all his feelings, which +she constantly divined. Once she began questioning him about his +son. Prince Andrew blushed, as he often did now--Natasha +particularly liked it in him--and said that his son would not live +with them. + +"Why not?" asked Natasha in a frightened tone. + +"I cannot take him away from his grandfather, and besides..." + +"How I should have loved him!" said Natasha, immediately guessing +his thought; "but I know you wish to avoid any pretext for finding +fault with us." + +Sometimes the old count would come up, kiss Prince Andrew, and ask +his advice about Petya's education or Nicholas' service. The old +countess sighed as she looked at them; Sonya was always getting +frightened lest she should be in the way and tried to find excuses for +leaving them alone, even when they did not wish it. When Prince Andrew +spoke (he could tell a story very well), Natasha listened to him +with pride; when she spoke she noticed with fear and joy that he gazed +attentively and scrutinizingly at her. She asked herself in +perplexity: "What does he look for in me? He is trying to discover +something by looking at me! What if what he seeks in me is not there?" +Sometimes she fell into one of the mad, merry moods characteristic +of her, and then she particularly loved to hear and see how Prince +Andrew laughed. He seldom laughed, but when he did he abandoned +himself entirely to his laughter, and after such a laugh she always +felt nearer to him. Natasha would have been completely happy if the +thought of the separation awaiting her and drawing near had not +terrified her, just as the mere thought of it made him turn pale and +cold. + +On the eve of his departure from Petersburg Prince Andrew brought +with him Pierre, who had not been to the Rostovs' once since the ball. +Pierre seemed disconcerted and embarrassed. He was talking to the +countess, and Natasha sat down beside a little chess table with Sonya, +thereby inviting Prince Andrew to come too. He did so. + +"You have known Bezukhov a long time?" he asked. "Do you like him?" + +"Yes, he's a dear, but very absurd." + +And as usual when speaking of Pierre, she began to tell anecdotes of +his absent-mindedness, some of which had even been invented about him. + +"Do you know I have entrusted him with our secret? I have known +him from childhood. He has a heart of gold. I beg you, Natalie," +Prince Andrew said with sudden seriousness--"I am going away and +heaven knows what may happen. You may cease to... all right, I know +I am not to say that. Only this, then: whatever may happen to you when +I am not here..." + +"What can happen?" + +"Whatever trouble may come," Prince Andrew continued, "I beg you, +Mademoiselle Sophie, whatever may happen, to turn to him alone for +advice and help! He is a most absent-minded and absurd fellow, but +he has a heart of gold." + +Neither her father, nor her mother, nor Sonya, nor Prince Andrew +himself could have foreseen how the separation from her lover would +act on Natasha. Flushed and agitated she went about the house all that +day, dry-eyed, occupied with most trivial matters as if not +understanding what awaited her. She did not even cry when, on taking +leave, he kissed her hand for the last time. "Don't go!" she said in a +tone that made him wonder whether he really ought not to stay and +which he remembered long afterwards. Nor did she cry when he was gone; +but for several days she sat in her room dry-eyed, taking no +interest in anything and only saying now and then, "Oh, why did he +go away?" + +But a fortnight after his departure, to the surprise of those around +her, she recovered from her mental sickness just as suddenly and +became her old self again, but with a change in her moral physiognomy, +as a child gets up after a long illness with a changed expression of +face. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +During that year after his son's departure, Prince Nicholas +Bolkonski's health and temper became much worse. He grew still more +irritable, and it was Princess Mary who generally bore the brunt of +his frequent fits of unprovoked anger. He seemed carefully to seek out +her tender spots so as to torture her mentally as harshly as possible. +Princess Mary had two passions and consequently two joys--her +nephew, little Nicholas, and religion--and these were the favorite +subjects of the prince's attacks and ridicule. Whatever was spoken +of he would bring round to the superstitiousness of old maids, or +the petting and spoiling of children. "You want to make him"--little +Nicholas--"into an old maid like yourself! A pity! Prince Andrew wants +a son and not an old maid," he would say. Or, turning to +Mademoiselle Bourienne, he would ask her in Princess Mary's presence +how she liked our village priests and icons and would joke about them. + +He continually hurt Princess Mary's feelings and tormented her, +but it cost her no effort to forgive him. Could he be to blame +toward her, or could her father, whom she knew loved her in spite of +it all, be unjust? And what is justice? The princess never thought +of that proud word "justice." All the complex laws of man centered for +her in one clear and simple law--the law of love and self-sacrifice +taught us by Him who lovingly suffered for mankind though He Himself +was God. What had she to do with the justice or injustice of other +people? She had to endure and love, and that she did. + +During the winter Prince Andrew had come to Bald Hills and had +been gay, gentle, and more affectionate than Princess Mary had known +him for a long time past. She felt that something had happened to him, +but he said nothing to her about his love. Before he left he had a +long talk with his father about something, and Princess Mary noticed +that before his departure they were dissatisfied with one another. + +Soon after Prince Andrew had gone, Princess Mary wrote to her friend +Julie Karagina in Petersburg, whom she had dreamed (as all girls +dream) of marrying to her brother, and who was at that time in +mourning for her own brother, killed in Turkey. + + +Sorrow, it seems, is our common lot, my dear, tender friend Julie. + +Your loss is so terrible that I can only explain it to myself as a +special providence of God who, loving you, wishes to try you and +your excellent mother. Oh, my friend! Religion, and religion alone, +can--I will not say comfort us--but save us from despair. Religion +alone can explain to us what without its help man cannot comprehend: +why, for what cause, kind and noble beings able to find happiness in +life--not merely harming no one but necessary to the happiness of +others--are called away to God, while cruel, useless, harmful persons, +or such as are a burden to themselves and to others, are left +living. The first death I saw, and one I shall never forget--that of +my dear sister-in-law--left that impression on me. Just as you ask +destiny why your splendid brother had to die, so I asked why that +angel Lise, who not only never wronged anyone, but in whose soul there +were never any unkind thoughts, had to die. And what do you think, +dear friend? Five years have passed since then, and already I, with my +petty understanding, begin to see clearly why she had to die, and in +what way that death was but an expression of the infinite goodness +of the Creator, whose every action, though generally +incomprehensible to us, is but a manifestation of His infinite love +for His creatures. Perhaps, I often think, she was too angelically +innocent to have the strength to perform all a mother's duties. As a +young wife she was irreproachable; perhaps she could not have been +so as a mother. As it is, not only has she left us, and particularly +Prince Andrew, with the purest regrets and memories, but probably +she will there receive a place I dare not hope for myself. But not +to speak of her alone, that early and terrible death has had the +most beneficent influence on me and on my brother in spite of all +our grief. Then, at the moment of our loss, these thoughts could not +occur to me; I should then have dismissed them with horror, but now +they are very clear and certain. I write all this to you, dear friend, +only to convince you of the Gospel truth which has become for me a +principle of life: not a single hair of our heads will fall without +His will. And His will is governed only by infinite love for us, and +so whatever befalls us is for our good. + +You ask whether we shall spend next winter in Moscow. In spite of my +wish to see you, I do not think so and do not want to do so. You +will be surprised to hear that the reason for this is Buonaparte! +The case is this: my father's health is growing noticeably worse, he +cannot stand any contradiction and is becoming irritable. This +irritability is, as you know, chiefly directed to political questions. +He cannot endure the notion that Buonaparte is negotiating on equal +terms with all the sovereigns of Europe and particularly with our own, +the grandson of the Great Catherine! As you know, I am quite +indifferent to politics, but from my father's remarks and his talks +with Michael Ivanovich I know all that goes on in the world and +especially about the honors conferred on Buonaparte, who only at +Bald Hills in the whole world, it seems, is not accepted as a great +man, still less as Emperor of France. And my father cannot stand this. +It seems to me that it is chiefly because of his political views +that my father is reluctant to speak of going to Moscow; for he +foresees the encounters that would result from his way of expressing +his views regardless of anybody. All the benefit he might derive +from a course of treatment he would lose as a result of the disputes +about Buonaparte which would be inevitable. In any case it will be +decided very shortly. + +Our family life goes on in the old way except for my brother +Andrew's absence. He, as I wrote you before, has changed very much +of late. After his sorrow he only this year quite recovered his +spirits. He has again become as I used to know him when a child: kind, +affectionate, with that heart of gold to which I know no equal. He has +realized, it seems to me, that life is not over for him. But +together with this mental change he has grown physically much +weaker. He has become thinner and more nervous. I am anxious about him +and glad he is taking this trip abroad which the doctors recommended +long ago. I hope it will cure him. You write that in Petersburg he +is spoken of as one of the most active, cultivated, and capable of the +young men. Forgive my vanity as a relation, but I never doubted it. +The good he has done to everybody here, from his peasants up to the +gentry, is incalculable. On his arrival in Petersburg he received only +his due. I always wonder at the way rumors fly from Petersburg to +Moscow, especially such false ones as that you write about--I mean the +report of my brother's betrothal to the little Rostova. I do not think +my brother will ever marry again, and certainly not her; and this is +why: first, I know that though he rarely speaks about the wife he +has lost, the grief of that loss has gone too deep in his heart for +him ever to decide to give her a successor and our little angel a +stepmother. Secondly because, as far as I know, that girl is not the +kind of girl who could please Prince Andrew. I do not think he would +choose her for a wife, and frankly I do not wish it. But I am +running on too long and am at the end of my second sheet. Good-by, +my dear friend. May God keep you in His holy and mighty care. My +dear friend, Mademoiselle Bourienne, sends you kisses. + +MARY + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +In the middle of the summer Princess Mary received an unexpected +letter from Prince Andrew in Switzerland in which he gave her +strange and surprising news. He informed her of his engagement to +Natasha Rostova. The whole letter breathed loving rapture for his +betrothed and tender and confiding affection for his sister. He +wrote that he had never loved as he did now and that only now did he +understand and know what life was. He asked his sister to forgive +him for not having told her of his resolve when he had last visited +Bald Hills, though he had spoken of it to his father. He had not +done so for fear Princess Mary should ask her father to give his +consent, irritating him and having to bear the brunt of his +displeasure without attaining her object. "Besides," he wrote, "the +matter was not then so definitely settled as it is now. My father then +insisted on a delay of a year and now already six months, half of that +period, have passed, and my resolution is firmer than ever. If the +doctors did not keep me here at the spas I should be back in Russia, +but as it is I have to postpone my return for three months. You know +me and my relations with Father. I want nothing from him. I have +been and always shall be independent; but to go against his will and +arouse his anger, now that he may perhaps remain with us such a +short time, would destroy half my happiness. I am now writing to him +about the same question, and beg you to choose a good moment to hand +him the letter and to let me know how he looks at the whole matter and +whether there is hope that he may consent to reduce the term by four +months." + +After long hesitations, doubts, and prayers, Princess Mary gave +the letter to her father. The next day the old prince said to her +quietly: + +"Write and tell your brother to wait till I am dead.... It won't +be long--I shall soon set him free." + +The princess was about to reply, but her father would not let her +speak and, raising his voice more and more, cried: + +"Marry, marry, my boy!... A good family!... Clever people, eh? Rich, +eh? Yes, a nice stepmother little Nicholas will have! Write and tell +him that he may marry tomorrow if he likes. She will be little +Nicholas' stepmother and I'll marry Bourienne!... Ha, ha, ha! He +mustn't be without a stepmother either! Only one thing, no more +women are wanted in my house--let him marry and live by himself. +Perhaps you will go and live with him too?" he added, turning to +Princess Mary. "Go in heavens name! Go out into the frost... the +frost... the frost! + +After this outburst the prince did not speak any more about the +matter. But repressed vexation at his son's poor-spirited behavior +found expression in his treatment of his daughter. To his former +pretexts for irony a fresh one was now added--allusions to stepmothers +and amiabilities to Mademoiselle Bourienne. + +"Why shouldn't I marry her?" he asked his daughter. "She'll make a +splendid princess!" + +And latterly, to her surprise and bewilderment, Princess Mary +noticed that her father was really associating more and more with +the Frenchwoman. She wrote to Prince Andrew about the reception of his +letter, but comforted him with hopes of reconciling their father to +the idea. + +Little Nicholas and his education, her brother Andrew, and +religion were Princess Mary's joys and consolations; but besides that, +since everyone must have personal hopes, Princess Mary in the +profoundest depths of her heart had a hidden dream and hope that +supplied the chief consolation of her life. This comforting dream +and hope were given her by God's folk--the half-witted and other +pilgrims who visited her without the prince's knowledge. The longer +she lived, the more experience and observation she had of life, the +greater was her wonder at the short-sightedness of men who seek +enjoyment and happiness here on earth: toiling, suffering, struggling, +and harming one another, to obtain that impossible, visionary, +sinful happiness. Prince Andrew had loved his wife, she died, but that +was not enough: he wanted to bind his happiness to another woman. +Her father objected to this because he wanted a more distinguished and +wealthier match for Andrew. And they all struggled and suffered and +tormented one another and injured their souls, their eternal souls, +for the attainment of benefits which endure but for an instant. Not +only do we know this ourselves, but Christ, the Son of God, came +down to earth and told us that this life is but for a moment and is +a probation; yet we cling to it and think to find happiness in it. +"How is it that no one realizes this?" thought Princess Mary. "No +one except these despised God's folk who, wallet on back, come to me +by the back door, afraid of being seen by the prince, not for fear +of ill-usage by him but for fear of causing him to sin. To leave +family, home, and all the cares of worldly welfare, in order without +clinging to anything to wander in hempen rags from place to place +under an assumed name, doing no one any harm but praying for all- +for those who drive one away as well as for those who protect one: +higher than that life and truth there is no life or truth!" + +There was one pilgrim, a quiet pockmarked little woman of fifty +called Theodosia, who for over thirty years had gone about barefoot +and worn heavy chains. Princess Mary was particularly fond of her. +Once, when in a room with a lamp dimly lit before the icon Theodosia +was talking of her life, the thought that Theodosia alone had found +the true path of life suddenly came to Princess Mary with such force +that she resolved to become a pilgrim herself. When Theodosia had gone +to sleep Princess Mary thought about this for a long time, and at last +made up her mind that, strange as it might seem, she must go on a +pilgrimage. She disclosed this thought to no one but to her confessor, +Father Akinfi, the monk, and he approved of her intention. Under guise +of a present for the pilgrims, Princess Mary prepared a pilgrim's +complete costume for herself: a coarse smock, bast shoes, a rough +coat, and a black kerchief. Often, approaching the chest of drawers +containing this secret treasure, Princess Mary paused, uncertain +whether the time had not already come to put her project into +execution. + +Often, listening to the pilgrims' tales, she was so stimulated by +their simple speech, mechanical to them but to her so full of deep +meaning, that several times she was on the point of abandoning +everything and running away from home. In imagination she already +pictured herself by Theodosia's side, dressed in coarse rags, +walking with a staff, a wallet on her back, along the dusty road, +directing her wanderings from one saint's shrine to another, free from +envy, earthly love, or desire, and reaching at last the place where +there is no more sorrow or sighing, but eternal joy and bliss. + +"I shall come to a place and pray there, and before having time to +get used to it or getting to love it, I shall go farther. I will go on +till my legs fail, and I'll lie down and die somewhere, and shall at +last reach that eternal, quiet haven, where there is neither sorrow +nor sighing..." thought Princess Mary. + +But afterwards, when she saw her father and especially little Koko +(Nicholas), her resolve weakened. She wept quietly, and felt that +she was a sinner who loved her father and little nephew more than God. + + + + + +BOOK SEVEN: 1810 --11 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The Bible legend tells us that the absence of labor--idleness--was a +condition of the first man's blessedness before the Fall. Fallen man +has retained a love of idleness, but the curse weighs on the race +not only because we have to seek our bread in the sweat of our +brows, but because our moral nature is such that we cannot be both +idle and at ease. An inner voice tells us we are in the wrong if we +are idle. If man could find a state in which he felt that though +idle he was fulfilling his duty, he would have found one of the +conditions of man's primitive blessedness. And such a state of +obligatory and irreproachable idleness is the lot of a whole class- +the military. The chief attraction of military service has consisted +and will consist in this compulsory and irreproachable idleness. + +Nicholas Rostov experienced this blissful condition to the full +when, after 1807, he continued to serve in the Pavlograd regiment, +in which he already commanded the squadron he had taken over from +Denisov. + +Rostov had become a bluff, good-natured fellow, whom his Moscow +acquaintances would have considered rather bad form, but who was liked +and respected by his comrades, subordinates, and superiors, and was +well contented with his life. Of late, in 1809, he found in letters +from home more frequent complaints from his mother that their +affairs were falling into greater and greater disorder, and that it +was time for him to come back to gladden and comfort his old parents. + +Reading these letters, Nicholas felt a dread of their wanting to +take him away from surroundings in which, protected from all the +entanglements of life, he was living so calmly and quietly. He felt +that sooner or later he would have to re-enter that whirlpool of life, +with its embarrassments and affairs to be straightened out, its +accounts with stewards, quarrels, and intrigues, its ties, society, +and with Sonya's love and his promise to her. It was all dreadfully +difficult and complicated; and he replied to his mother in cold, +formal letters in French, beginning: "My dear Mamma," and ending: +"Your obedient son," which said nothing of when he would return. In +1810 he received letters from his parents, in which they told him of +Natasha's engagement to Bolkonski, and that the wedding would be in +a year's time because the old prince made difficulties. This letter +grieved and mortified Nicholas. In the first place he was sorry that +Natasha, for whom he cared more than for anyone else in the family, +should be lost to the home; and secondly, from his hussar point of +view, he regretted not to have been there to show that fellow +Bolkonski that connection with him was no such great honor after +all, and that if he loved Natasha he might dispense with permission +from his dotard father. For a moment he hesitated whether he should +not apply for leave in order to see Natasha before she was married, +but then came the maneuvers, and considerations about Sonya and +about the confusion of their affairs, and Nicholas again put it off. +But in the spring of that year, he received a letter from his +mother, written without his father's knowledge, and that letter +persuaded him to return. She wrote that if he did not come and take +matters in hand, their whole property would be sold by auction and +they would all have to go begging. The count was so weak, and +trusted Mitenka so much, and was so good-natured, that everybody +took advantage of him and things were going from bad to worse. "For +God's sake, I implore you, come at once if you do not wish to make +me and the whole family wretched," wrote the countess. + +This letter touched Nicholas. He had that common sense of a +matter-of-fact man which showed him what he ought to do. + +The right thing now was, if not to retire from the service, at any +rate to go home on leave. Why he had to go he did not know; but +after his after-dinner nap he gave orders to saddle Mars, an extremely +vicious gray stallion that had not been ridden for a long time, and +when he returned with the horse all in a lather, he informed Lavrushka +(Denisov's servant who had remained with him) and his comrades who +turned up in the evening that he was applying for leave and was +going home. Difficult and strange as it was for him to reflect that he +would go away without having heard from the staff--and this interested +him extremely--whether he was promoted to a captaincy or would receive +the Order of St. Anne for the last maneuvers; strange as it was to +think that he would go away without having sold his three roans to the +Polish Count Golukhovski, who was bargaining for the horses Rostov had +betted he would sell for two thousand rubles; incomprehensible as it +seemed that the ball the hussars were giving in honor of the Polish +Mademoiselle Przazdziecka (out of rivalry to the Uhlans who had +given one in honor of their Polish Mademoiselle Borzozowska) would +take place without him--he knew he must go away from this good, bright +world to somewhere where everything was stupid and confused. A week +later he obtained his leave. His hussar comrades--not only those of +his own regiment, but the whole brigade--gave Rostov a dinner to which +the subscription was fifteen rubles a head, and at which there were +two bands and two choirs of singers. Rostov danced the Trepak with +Major Basov; the tipsy officers tossed, embraced, and dropped +Rostov; the soldiers of the third squadron tossed him too, and shouted +"hurrah!" and then they put him in his sleigh and escorted him as +far as the first post station. + +During the first half of the journey--from Kremenchug to Kiev--all +Rostov's thoughts, as is usual in such cases, were behind him, with +the squadron; but when he had gone more than halfway he began to +forget his three roans and Dozhoyveyko, his quartermaster, and to +wonder anxiously how things would be at Otradnoe and what he would +find there. Thoughts of home grew stronger the nearer he approached +it--far stronger, as though this feeling of his was subject to the law +by which the force of attraction is in inverse proportion to the +square of the distance. At the last post station before Otradnoe he +gave the driver a three-ruble tip, and on arriving he ran +breathlessly, like a boy, up the steps of his home. + +After the rapture of meeting, and after that odd feeling of +unsatisfied expectation--the feeling that "everything is just the +same, so why did I hurry?"--Nicholas began to settle down in his old +home world. His father and mother were much the same, only a little +older. What was new in them was a certain uneasiness and occasional +discord, which there used not to be, and which, as Nicholas soon found +out, was due to the bad state of their affairs. Sonya was nearly +twenty; she had stopped growing prettier and promised nothing more +than she was already, but that was enough. She exhaled happiness and +love from the time Nicholas returned, and the faithful, unalterable +love of this girl had a gladdening effect on him. Petya and Natasha +surprised Nicholas most. Petya was a big handsome boy of thirteen, +merry, witty, and mischievous, with a voice that was already breaking. +As for Natasha, for a long while Nicholas wondered and laughed +whenever he looked at her. + +"You're not the same at all," he said. + +"How? Am I uglier?" + +"On the contrary, but what dignity? A princess!" he whispered to +her. + +"Yes, yes, yes!" cried Natasha, joyfully. + +She told him about her romance with Prince Andrew and of his visit +to Otradnoe and showed him his last letter. + +"Well, are you glad?" Natasha asked. "I am so tranquil and happy +now." + +"Very glad," answered Nicholas. "He is an excellent fellow.... And +are you very much in love?" + +"How shall I put it?" replied Natasha. "I was in love with Boris, +with my teacher, and with Denisov, but this is quite different. I feel +at peace and settled. I know that no better man than he exists, and +I am calm and contented now. Not at all as before." + +Nicholas expressed his disapproval of the postponement of the +marriage for a year; but Natasha attacked her brother with +exasperation, proving to him that it could not be otherwise, and +that it would be a bad thing to enter a family against the father's +will, and that she herself wished it so. + +"You don't at all understand," she said. + +Nicholas was silent and agreed with her. + +Her brother often wondered as he looked at her. She did not seem +at all like a girl in love and parted from her affianced husband. +She was even-tempered and calm and quite as cheerful as of old. This +amazed Nicholas and even made him regard Bolkonski's courtship +skeptically. He could not believe that her fate was sealed, especially +as he had not seen her with Prince Andrew. It always seemed to him +that there was something not quite right about this intended marriage. + +"Why this delay? Why no betrothal?" he thought. Once, when he had +touched on this topic with his mother, he discovered, to his +surprise and somewhat to his satisfaction, that in the depth of her +soul she too had doubts about this marriage. + +"You see he writes," said she, showing her son a letter of Prince +Andrew's, with that latent grudge a mother always has in regard to a +daughter's future married happiness, "he writes that he won't come +before December. What can be keeping him? Illness, probably! His +health is very delicate. Don't tell Natasha. And don't attach +importance to her being so bright: that's because she's living through +the last days of her girlhood, but I know what she is like every +time we receive a letter from him! However, God grant that +everything turns out well!" (She always ended with these words.) "He +is an excellent man!" + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +After reaching home Nicholas was at first serious and even dull. +He was worried by the impending necessity of interfering in the stupid +business matters for which his mother had called him home. To throw +off this burden as quickly as possible, on the third day after his +arrival he went, angry and scowling and without answering questions as +to where he was going, to Mitenka's lodge and demanded an account of +everything. But what an account of everything might be Nicholas knew +even less than the frightened and bewildered Mitenka. The conversation +and the examination of the accounts with Mitenka did not last long. +The village elder, a peasant delegate, and the village clerk, who were +waiting in the passage, heard with fear and delight first the young +count's voice roaring and snapping and rising louder and louder, and +then words of abuse, dreadful words, ejaculated one after the other. + +"Robber!... Ungrateful wretch!... I'll hack the dog to pieces! I'm +not my father!... Robbing us!..." and so on. + +Then with no less fear and delight they saw how the young count, red +in the face and with bloodshot eyes, dragged Mitenka out by the scruff +of the neck and applied his foot and knee to his behind with great +agility at convenient moments between the words, shouting, "Be off! +Never let me see your face here again, you villain!" + +Mitenka flew headlong down the six steps and ran away into the +shrubbery. (This shrubbery was a well-known haven of refuge for +culprits at Otradnoe. Mitenka himself, returning tipsy from the +town, used to hide there, and many of the residents at Otradnoe, +hiding from Mitenka, knew of its protective qualities.) + +Mitenka's wife and sisters-in-law thrust their heads and +frightened faces out of the door of a room where a bright samovar +was boiling and where the steward's high bedstead stood with its +patchwork quilt. + +The young count paid no heed to them, but, breathing hard, passed by +with resolute strides and went into the house. + +The countess, who heard at once from the maids what had happened +at the lodge, was calmed by the thought that now their affairs would +certainly improve, but on the other hand felt anxious as to the effect +this excitement might have on her son. She went several times to his +door on tiptoe and listened, as he lighted one pipe after another. + +Next day the old count called his son aside and, with an embarrassed +smile, said to him: + +"But you know, my dear boy, it's a pity you got excited! Mitenka has +told me all about it." + +"I knew," thought Nicholas, "that I should never understand anything +in this crazy world." + +"You were angry that he had not entered those 700 rubles. But they +were carried forward--and you did not look at the other page." + +"Papa, he is a blackguard and a thief! I know he is! And what I have +done, I have done; but, if you like, I won't speak to him again." + +"No, my dear boy" (the count, too, felt embarrassed. He knew he +had mismanaged his wife's property and was to blame toward his +children, but he did not know how to remedy it). "No, I beg you to +attend to the business. I am old. I..." + +"No, Papa. Forgive me if I have caused you unpleasantness. I +understand it all less than you do." + +"Devil take all these peasants, and money matters, and carryings +forward from page to page," he thought. "I used to understand what a +'corner' and the stakes at cards meant, but carrying forward to +another page I don't understand at all," said he to himself, and after +that he did not meddle in business affairs. But once the countess +called her son and informed him that she had a promissory note from +Anna Mikhaylovna for two thousand rubles, and asked him what he +thought of doing with it. + +"This," answered Nicholas. "You say it rests with me. Well, I +don't like Anna Mikhaylovna and I don't like Boris, but they were +our friends and poor. Well then, this!" and he tore up the note, and +by so doing caused the old countess to weep tears of joy. After +that, young Rostov took no further part in any business affairs, but +devoted himself with passionate enthusiasm to what was to him a new +pursuit--the chase--for which his father kept a large establishment. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The weather was already growing wintry and morning frosts +congealed an earth saturated by autumn rains. The verdure had +thickened and its bright green stood out sharply against the +brownish strips of winter rye trodden down by the cattle, and +against the pale-yellow stubble of the spring buckwheat. The wooded +ravines and the copses, which at the end of August had still been +green islands amid black fields and stubble, had become golden and +bright-red islands amid the green winter rye. The hares had already +half changed their summer coats, the fox cubs were beginning to +scatter, and the young wolves were bigger than dogs. It was the best +time of the year for the chase. The hounds of that ardent young +sportsman Rostov had not merely reached hard winter condition, but +were so jaded that at a meeting of the huntsmen it was decided to give +them a three days' rest and then, on the sixteenth of September, to go +on a distant expedition, starting from the oak grove where there was +an undisturbed litter of wolf cubs. + +All that day the hounds remained at home. It was frosty and the +air was sharp, but toward evening the sky became overcast and it began +to thaw. On the fifteenth, when young Rostov, in his dressing gown, +looked out of the window, he saw it was an unsurpassable morning for +hunting: it was as if the sky were melting and sinking to the earth +without any wind. The only motion in the air was that of the dripping, +microscopic particles of drizzling mist. The bare twigs in the +garden were hung with transparent drops which fell on the freshly +fallen leaves. The earth in the kitchen garden looked wet and black +and glistened like poppy seed and at a short distance merged into +the dull, moist veil of mist. Nicholas went out into the wet and muddy +porch. There was a smell of decaying leaves and of dog. Milka, a +black-spotted, broad-haunched bitch with prominent black eyes, got +up on seeing her master, stretched her hind legs, lay down like a +hare, and then suddenly jumped up and licked him right on his nose and +mustache. Another borzoi, a dog, catching sight of his master from the +garden path, arched his back and, rushing headlong toward the porch +with lifted tail, began rubbing himself against his legs. + +"O-hoy!" came at that moment, that inimitable huntsman's call +which unites the deepest bass with the shrillest tenor, and round +the corner came Daniel the head huntsman and head kennelman, a gray, +wrinkled old man with hair cut straight over his forehead, Ukrainian +fashion, a long bent whip in his hand, and that look of independence +and scorn of everything that is only seen in huntsmen. He doffed his +Circassian cap to his master and looked at him scornfully. This +scorn was not offensive to his master. Nicholas knew that this Daniel, +disdainful of everybody and who considered himself above them, was all +the same his serf and huntsman. + +"Daniel!" Nicholas said timidly, conscious at the sight of the +weather, the hounds, and the huntsman that he was being carried away +by that irresistible passion for sport which makes a man forget all +his previous resolutions, as a lover forgets in the presence of his +mistress. + +"What orders, your excellency?" said the huntsman in his deep +bass, deep as a proto-deacon's and hoarse with hallooing--and two +flashing black eyes gazed from under his brows at his master, who +was silent. "Can you resist it?" those eyes seemed to be asking. + +"It's a good day, eh? For a hunt and a gallop, eh?" asked +Nicholas, scratching Milka behind the ears. + +Daniel did not answer, but winked instead. + +"I sent Uvarka at dawn to listen," his bass boomed out after a +minute's pause. "He says she's moved them into the Otradnoe enclosure. +They were howling there." (This meant that the she-wolf, about whom +they both knew, had moved with her cubs to the Otradnoe copse, a small +place a mile and a half from the house.) + +"We ought to go, don't you think so?" said Nicholas. "Come to me +with Uvarka." + +"As you please." + +"Then put off feeding them." + +"Yes, sir." + +Five minutes later Daniel and Uvarka were standing in Nicholas' +big study. Though Daniel was not a big man, to see him in a room was +like seeing a horse or a bear on the floor among the furniture and +surroundings of human life. Daniel himself felt this, and as usual +stood just inside the door, trying to speak softly and not move, for +fear of breaking something in the master's apartment, and he +hastened to say all that was necessary so as to get from under that +ceiling, out into the open under the sky once more. + +Having finished his inquiries and extorted from Daniel an opinion +that the hounds were fit (Daniel himself wished to go hunting), +Nicholas ordered the horses to be saddled. But just as Daniel was +about to go Natasha came in with rapid steps, not having done up her +hair or finished dressing and with her old nurse's big shawl wrapped +round her. Petya ran in at the same time. + +"You are going?" asked Natasha. "I knew you would! Sonya said you +wouldn't go, but I knew that today is the sort of day when you +couldn't help going." + +"Yes, we are going," replied Nicholas reluctantly, for today, as +he intended to hunt seriously, he did not want to take Natasha and +Petya. "We are going, but only wolf hunting: it would be dull for +you." + +"You know it is my greatest pleasure," said Natasha. "It's not fair; +you are going by yourself, are having the horses saddled and said +nothing to us about it." + +"'No barrier bars a Russian's path'--we'll go!" shouted Petya. + +"But you can't. Mamma said you mustn't," said Nicholas to Natasha. + +"Yes, I'll go. I shall certainly go," said Natasha decisively. +"Daniel, tell them to saddle for us, and Michael must come with my +dogs," she added to the huntsman. + +It seemed to Daniel irksome and improper to be in a room at all, but +to have anything to do with a young lady seemed to him impossible. +He cast down his eyes and hurried out as if it were none of his +business, careful as he went not to inflict any accidental injury on +the young lady. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +The old count, who had always kept up an enormous hunting +establishment but had now handed it all completely over to his son's +care, being in very good spirits on this fifteenth of September, +prepared to go out with the others. + +In an hour's time the whole hunting party was at the porch. +Nicholas, with a stern and serious air which showed that now was no +time for attending to trifles, went past Natasha and Petya who were +trying to tell him something. He had a look at all the details of +the hunt, sent a pack of hounds and huntsmen on ahead to find the +quarry, mounted his chestnut Donets, and whistling to his own leash of +borzois, set off across the threshing ground to a field leading to the +Otradnoe wood. The old count's horse, a sorrel gelding called +Viflyanka, was led by the groom in attendance on him, while the +count himself was to drive in a small trap straight to a spot reserved +for him. + +They were taking fifty-four hounds, with six hunt attendants and +whippers-in. Besides the family, there were eight borzoi kennelmen and +more than forty borzois, so that, with the borzois on the leash +belonging to members of the family, there were about a hundred and +thirty dogs and twenty horsemen. + +Each dog knew its master and its call. Each man in the hunt knew his +business, his place, what he had to do. As soon as they had passed the +fence they all spread out evenly and quietly, without noise or talk, +along the road and field leading to the Otradnoe covert. + +The horses stepped over the field as over a thick carpet, now and +then splashing into puddles as they crossed a road. The misty sky +still seemed to descend evenly and imperceptibly toward the earth, the +air was still, warm, and silent. Occasionally the whistle of a +huntsman, the snort of a horse, the crack of a whip, or the whine of a +straggling hound could be heard. + +When they had gone a little less than a mile, five more riders +with dogs appeared out of the mist, approaching the Rostovs. In +front rode a fresh-looking, handsome old man with a large gray +mustache. + +"Good morning, Uncle!" said Nicholas, when the old man drew near. + +"That's it. Come on!... I was sure of it," began "Uncle." (He was +a distant relative of the Rostovs', a man of small means, and their +neighbor.) "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist it and it's a good +thing you're going. That's it! Come on! (This was "Uncle's" favorite +expression.) "Take the covert at once, for my Girchik says the Ilagins +are at Korniki with their hounds. That's it. Come on!... They'll +take the cubs from under your very nose." + +"That's where I'm going. Shall we join up our packs?" asked +Nicholas. + +The hounds were joined into one pack, and "Uncle" and Nicholas +rode on side by side. Natasha, muffled up in shawls which did not hide +her eager face and shining eyes, galloped up to them. She was followed +by Petya who always kept close to her, by Michael, a huntsman, and +by a groom appointed to look after her. Petya, who was laughing, +whipped and pulled at his horse. Natasha sat easily and confidently on +her black Arabchik and reined him in without effort with a firm hand. + +"Uncle" looked round disapprovingly at Petya and Natasha. He did not +like to combine frivolity with the serious business of hunting. + +"Good morning, Uncle! We are going too!" shouted Petya. + +"Good morning, good morning! But don't go overriding the hounds," +said "Uncle" sternly. + +"Nicholas, what a fine dog Trunila is! He knew me," said Natasha, +referring to her favorite hound. + +"In the first place, Trunila is not a 'dog,' but a harrier," thought +Nicholas, and looked sternly at his sister, trying to make her feel +the distance that ought to separate them at that moment. Natasha +understood it. + +"You mustn't think we'll be in anyone's way, Uncle," she said. +"We'll go to our places and won't budge." + +"A good thing too, little countess," said "Uncle," "only mind you +don't fall off your horse," he added, "because--that's it, come on!- +you've nothing to hold on to." + +The oasis of the Otradnoe covert came in sight a few hundred yards +off, the huntsmen were already nearing it. Rostov, having finally +settled with "Uncle" where they should set on the hounds, and having +shown Natasha where she was to stand--a spot where nothing could +possibly run out--went round above the ravine. + +"Well, nephew, you're going for a big wolf," said "Uncle." "Mind and +don't let her slip!" + +"That's as may happen," answered Rostov. "Karay, here!" he +shouted, answering "Uncle's" remark by this call to his borzoi. +Karay was a shaggy old dog with a hanging jowl, famous for having +tackled a big wolf unaided. They all took up their places. + +The old count, knowing his son's ardor in the hunt, hurried so as +not to be late, and the huntsmen had not yet reached their places when +Count Ilya Rostov, cheerful, flushed, and with quivering cheeks, drove +up with his black horses over the winter rye to the place reserved for +him, where a wolf might come out. Having straightened his coat and +fastened on his hunting knives and horn, he mounted his good, sleek, +well-fed, and comfortable horse, Viflyanka, which was turning gray, +like himself. His horses and trap were sent home. Count Ilya Rostov, +though not at heart a keen sportsman, knew the rules of the hunt well, +and rode to the bushy edge of the road where he was to stand, arranged +his reins, settled himself in the saddle, and, feeling that he was +ready, looked about with a smile. + +Beside him was Simon Chekmar, his personal attendant, an old +horseman now somewhat stiff in the saddle. Chekmar held in leash three +formidable wolfhounds, who had, however, grown fat like their master +and his horse. Two wise old dogs lay down unleashed. Some hundred +paces farther along the edge of the wood stood Mitka, the count's +other groom, a daring horseman and keen rider to hounds. Before the +hunt, by old custom, the count had drunk a silver cupful of mulled +brandy, taken a snack, and washed it down with half a bottle of his +favorite Bordeaux. + +He was somewhat flushed with the wine and the drive. His eyes were +rather moist and glittered more than usual, and as he sat in his +saddle, wrapped up in his fur coat, he looked like a child taken out +for an outing. + +The thin, hollow-cheeked Chekmar, having got everything ready, +kept glancing at his master with whom he had lived on the best of +terms for thirty years, and understanding the mood he was in +expected a pleasant chat. A third person rode up circumspectly through +the wood (it was plain that he had had a lesson) and stopped behind +the count. This person was a gray-bearded old man in a woman's +cloak, with a tall peaked cap on his head. He was the buffoon, who +went by a woman's name, Nastasya Ivanovna. + +"Well, Nastasya Ivanovna!" whispered the count, winking at him. +"If you scare away the beast, Daniel'll give it you!" + +"I know a thing or two myself!" said Nastasya Ivanovna. + +"Hush!" whispered the count and turned to Simon. "Have you seen +the young countess?" he asked. "Where is she?" + +"With young Count Peter, by the Zharov rank grass," answered +Simon, smiling. "Though she's a lady, she's very fond of hunting." + +"And you're surprised at the way she rides, Simon, eh?" said the +count. "She's as good as many a man!" + +"Of course! It's marvelous. So bold, so easy!" + +"And Nicholas? Where is he? By the Lyadov upland, isn't he?" + +"Yes, sir. He knows where to stand. He understands the matter so +well that Daniel and I are often quite astounded," said Simon, well +knowing what would please his master. + +"Rides well, eh? And how well he looks on his horse, eh?" + +"A perfect picture! How he chased a fox out of the rank grass by the +Zavarzinsk thicket the other day! Leaped a fearful place; what a sight +when they rushed from the covert... the horse worth a thousand +rubles and the rider beyond all price! Yes, one would have to search +far to find another as smart." + +"To search far..." repeated the count, evidently sorry Simon had not +said more. "To search far," he said, turning back the skirt of his +coat to get at his snuffbox. + +"The other day when he came out from Mass in full uniform, Michael +Sidorych..." Simon did not finish, for on the still air he had +distinctly caught the music of the hunt with only two or three +hounds giving tongue. He bent down his head and listened, shaking a +warning finger at his master. "They are on the scent of the cubs..." +he whispered, "straight to the Lyadov uplands." + +The count, forgetting to smooth out the smile on his face, looked +into the distance straight before him, down the narrow open space, +holding the snuffbox in his hand but not taking any. After the cry +of the hounds came the deep tones of the wolf call from Daniel's +hunting horn; the pack joined the first three hounds and they could be +heard in full cry, with that peculiar lift in the note that +indicates that they are after a wolf. The whippers-in no longer set on +the hounds, but changed to the cry of ulyulyu, and above the others +rose Daniel's voice, now a deep bass, now piercingly shrill. His voice +seemed to fill the whole wood and carried far beyond out into the open +field. + +After listening a few moments in silence, the count and his +attendant convinced themselves that the hounds had separated into +two packs: the sound of the larger pack, eagerly giving tongue, +began to die away in the distance, the other pack rushed by the wood +past the count, and it was with this that Daniel's voice was heard +calling ulyulyu. The sounds of both packs mingled and broke apart +again, but both were becoming more distant. + +Simon sighed and stooped to straighten the leash a young borzoi +had entangled; the count too sighed and, noticing the snuffbox in +his hand, opened it and took a pinch. "Back!" cried Simon to a +borzoi that was pushing forward out of the wood. The count started and +dropped the snuffbox. Nastasya Ivanovna dismounted to pick it up. +The count and Simon were looking at him. + +Then, unexpectedly, as often happens, the sound of the hunt suddenly +approached, as if the hounds in full cry and Daniel ulyulyuing were +just in front of them. + +The count turned and saw on his right Mitka staring at him with eyes +starting out of his head, raising his cap and pointing before him to +the other side. + +"Look out!" he shouted, in a voice plainly showing that he had +long fretted to utter that word, and letting the borzois slip he +galloped toward the count. + +The count and Simon galloped out of the wood and saw on their left a +wolf which, softly swaying from side to side, was coming at a quiet +lope farther to the left to the very place where they were standing. +The angry borzois whined and getting free of the leash rushed past the +horses' feet at the wolf. + +The wolf paused, turned its heavy forehead toward the dogs +awkwardly, like a man suffering from the quinsy, and, still slightly +swaying from side to side, gave a couple of leaps and with a swish +of its tail disappeared into the skirt of the wood. At the same +instant, with a cry like a wail, first one hound, then another, and +then another, sprang helter-skelter from the wood opposite and the +whole pack rushed across the field toward the very spot where the wolf +had disappeared. The hazel bushes parted behind the hounds and +Daniel's chestnut horse appeared, dark with sweat. On its long back +sat Daniel, hunched forward, capless, his disheveled gray hair hanging +over his flushed, perspiring face. + +"Ulyulyulyu! ulyulyu!..." he cried. When he caught sight of the +count his eyes flashed lightning. + +"Blast you!" he shouted, holding up his whip threateningly at the +count. + +"You've let the wolf go!... What sportsmen!" and as if scorning to +say more to the frightened and shamefaced count, he lashed the heaving +flanks of his sweating chestnut gelding with all the anger the count +had aroused and flew off after the hounds. The count, like a +punished schoolboy, looked round, trying by a smile to win Simon's +sympathy for his plight. But Simon was no longer there. He was +galloping round by the bushes while the field was coming up on both +sides, all trying to head the wolf, but it vanished into the wood +before they could do so. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Nicholas Rostov meanwhile remained at his post, waiting for the +wolf. By the way the hunt approached and receded, by the cries of +the dogs whose notes were familiar to him, by the way the voices of +the huntsmen approached, receded, and rose, he realized what was +happening at the copse. He knew that young and old wolves were +there, that the hounds had separated into two packs, that somewhere +a wolf was being chased, and that something had gone wrong. He +expected the wolf to come his way any moment. He made thousands of +different conjectures as to where and from what side the beast would +come and how he would set upon it. Hope alternated with despair. +Several times he addressed a prayer to God that the wolf should come +his way. He prayed with that passionate and shame-faced feeling with +which men pray at moments of great excitement arising from trivial +causes. "What would it be to Thee to do this for me?" he said to +God. "I know Thou art great, and that it is a sin to ask this of Thee, +but for God's sake do let the old wolf come my way and let Karay +spring at it--in sight of 'Uncle' who is watching from over there--and +seize it by the throat in a death grip!" A thousand times during +that half-hour Rostov cast eager and restless glances over the edge of +the wood, with the two scraggy oaks rising above the aspen undergrowth +and the gully with its water-worn side and "Uncle's" cap just +visible above the bush on his right. + +"No, I shan't have such luck," thought Rostov, "yet what wouldn't it +be worth! It is not to be! Everywhere, at cards and in war, I am +always unlucky." Memories of Austerlitz and of Dolokhov flashed +rapidly and clearly through his mind. "Only once in my life to get +an old wolf, I want only that!" thought he, straining eyes and ears +and looking to the left and then to the right and listening to the +slightest variation of note in the cries of the dogs. + +Again he looked to the right and saw something running toward him +across the deserted field. "No, it can't be!" thought Rostov, taking a +deep breath, as a man does at the coming of something long hoped +for. The height of happiness was reached--and so simply, without +warning, or noise, or display, that Rostov could not believe his +eyes and remained in doubt for over a second. The wolf ran forward and +jumped heavily over a gully that lay in her path. She was an old +animal with a gray back and big reddish belly. She ran without +hurry, evidently feeling sure that no one saw her. Rostov, holding his +breath, looked round at the borzois. They stood or lay not seeing +the wolf or understanding the situation. Old Karay had turned his head +and was angrily searching for fleas, baring his yellow teeth and +snapping at his hind legs. + +"Ulyulyulyu!" whispered Rostov, pouting his lips. The borzois jumped +up, jerking the rings of the leashes and pricking their ears. Karay +finished scratching his hindquarters and, cocking his ears, got up +with quivering tail from which tufts of matted hair hung down. + +"Shall I loose them or not?" Nicholas asked himself as the wolf +approached him coming from the copse. Suddenly the wolf's whole +physiognomy changed: she shuddered, seeing what she had probably never +seen before--human eyes fixed upon her--and turning her head a +little toward Rostov, she paused. + +"Back or forward? Eh, no matter, forward..." the wolf seemed to +say to herself, and she moved forward without again looking round +and with a quiet, long, easy yet resolute lope. + +"Ulyulyu!" cried Nicholas, in a voice not his own, and of its own +accord his good horse darted headlong downhill, leaping over gullies +to head off the wolf, and the borzois passed it, running faster still. +Nicholas did not hear his own cry nor feel that he was galloping, +nor see the borzois, nor the ground over which he went: he saw only +the wolf, who, increasing her speed, bounded on in the same +direction along the hollow. The first to come into view was Milka, +with her black markings and powerful quarters, gaining upon the +wolf. Nearer and nearer... now she was ahead of it; but the wolf +turned its head to face her, and instead of putting on speed as she +usually did Milka suddenly raised her tail and stiffened her forelegs. + +"Ulyulyulyulyu!" shouted Nicholas. + +The reddish Lyubim rushed forward from behind Milka, sprang +impetuously at the wolf, and seized it by its hindquarters, but +immediately jumped aside in terror. The wolf crouched, gnashed her +teeth, and again rose and bounded forward, followed at the distance of +a couple of feet by all the borzois, who did not get any closer to +her. + +"She'll get away! No, it's impossible!" thought Nicholas, still +shouting with a hoarse voice. + +"Karay, ulyulyu!..." he shouted, looking round for the old borzoi +who was now his only hope. Karay, with all the strength age had left +him, stretched himself to the utmost and, watching the wolf, +galloped heavily aside to intercept it. But the quickness of the +wolf's lope and the borzoi's slower pace made it plain that Karay +had miscalculated. Nicholas could already see not far in front of +him the wood where the wolf would certainly escape should she reach +it. But, coming toward him, he saw hounds and a huntsman galloping +almost straight at the wolf. There was still hope. A long, yellowish +young borzoi, one Nicholas did not know, from another leash, rushed +impetuously at the wolf from in front and almost knocked her over. But +the wolf jumped up more quickly than anyone could have expected and, +gnashing her teeth, flew at the yellowish borzoi, which, with a +piercing yelp, fell with its head on the ground, bleeding from a +gash in its side. + +"Karay? Old fellow!..." wailed Nicholas. + +Thanks to the delay caused by this crossing of the wolf's path, +the old dog with its felted hair hanging from its thigh was within +five paces of it. As if aware of her danger, the wolf turned her +eyes on Karay, tucked her tail yet further between her legs, and +increased her speed. But here Nicholas only saw that something +happened to Karay--the borzoi was suddenly on the wolf, and they +rolled together down into a gully just in front of them. + +That instant, when Nicholas saw the wolf struggling in the gully +with the dogs, while from under them could be seen her gray hair and +outstretched hind leg and her frightened choking head, with her ears +laid back (Karay was pinning her by the throat), was the happiest +moment of his life. With his hand on his saddlebow, he was ready to +dismount and stab the wolf, when she suddenly thrust her head up +from among that mass of dogs, and then her forepaws were on the edge +of the gully. She clicked her teeth (Karay no longer had her by the +throat), leaped with a movement of her hind legs out of the gully, and +having disengaged herself from the dogs, with tail tucked in again, +went forward. Karay, his hair bristling, and probably bruised or +wounded, climbed with difficulty out of the gully. + +"Oh my God! Why?" Nicholas cried in despair. + +"Uncle's" huntsman was galloping from the other side across the +wolf's path and his borzois once more stopped the animal's advance. +She was again hemmed in. + +Nicholas and his attendant, with "Uncle" and his huntsman, were +all riding round the wolf, crying "ulyulyu!" shouting and preparing to +dismount each moment that the wolf crouched back, and starting forward +again every time she shook herself and moved toward the wood where she +would be safe. + +Already, at the beginning of this chase, Daniel, hearing the +ulyulyuing, had rushed out from the wood. He saw Karay seize the wolf, +and checked his horse, supposing the affair to be over. But when he +saw that the horsemen did not dismount and that the wolf shook herself +and ran for safety, Daniel set his chestnut galloping, not at the wolf +but straight toward the wood, just as Karay had run to cut the +animal off. As a result of this, he galloped up to the wolf just +when she had been stopped a second time by "Uncle's" borzois. + +Daniel galloped up silently, holding a naked dagger in his left hand +and thrashing the laboring sides of his chestnut horse with his whip +as if it were a flail. + +Nicholas neither saw nor heard Daniel until the chestnut, +breathing heavily, panted past him, and he heard the fall of a body +and saw Daniel lying on the wolf's back among the dogs, trying to +seize her by the ears. It was evident to the dogs, the hunters, and to +the wolf herself that all was now over. The terrified wolf pressed +back her ears and tried to rise, but the borzois stuck to her. +Daniel rose a little, took a step, and with his whole weight, as if +lying down to rest, fell on the wolf, seizing her by the ears. +Nicholas was about to stab her, but Daniel whispered, "Don't! We'll +gag her!" and, changing his position, set his foot on the wolf's neck. +A stick was thrust between her jaws and she was fastened with a leash, +as if bridled, her legs were bound together, and Daniel rolled her +over once or twice from side to side. + +With happy, exhausted faces, they laid the old wolf, alive, on a +shying and snorting horse and, accompanied by the dogs yelping at her, +took her to the place where they were all to meet. The hounds had +killed two of the cubs and the borzois three. The huntsmen assembled +with their booty and their stories, and all came to look at the +wolf, which, with her broad-browed head hanging down and the bitten +stick between her jaws, gazed with great glassy eyes at this crowd +of dogs and men surrounding her. When she was touched, she jerked +her bound legs and looked wildly yet simply at everybody. Old Count +Rostov also rode up and touched the wolf. + +"Oh, what a formidable one!" said he. "A formidable one, eh?" he +asked Daniel, who was standing near. + +"Yes, your excellency," answered Daniel, quickly doffing his cap. + +The count remembered the wolf he had let slip and his encounter with +Daniel. + +"Ah, but you are a crusty fellow, friend!" said the count. + +For sole reply Daniel gave him a shy, childlike, meek, and amiable +smile. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The old count went home, and Natasha and Petya promised to return +very soon, but as it was still early the hunt went farther. At +midday they put the hounds into a ravine thickly overgrown with +young trees. Nicholas standing in a fallow field could see all his +whips. + +Facing him lay a field of winter rye, there his own huntsman stood +alone in a hollow behind a hazel bush. The hounds had scarcely been +loosed before Nicholas heard one he knew, Voltorn, giving tongue at +intervals; other hounds joined in, now pausing and now again giving +tongue. A moment later he heard a cry from the wooded ravine that a +fox had been found, and the whole pack, joining together, rushed along +the ravine toward the ryefield and away from Nicholas. + +He saw the whips in their red caps galloping along the edge of the +ravine, he even saw the hounds, and was expecting a fox to show itself +at any moment on the ryefield opposite. + +The huntsman standing in the hollow moved and loosed his borzois, +and Nicholas saw a queer, short-legged red fox with a fine brush going +hard across the field. The borzois bore down on it.... Now they drew +close to the fox which began to dodge between the field in sharper and +sharper curves, trailing its brush, when suddenly a strange white +borzoi dashed in followed by a black one, and everything was in +confusion; the borzois formed a star-shaped figure, scarcely swaying +their bodies and with tails turned away from the center of the +group. Two huntsmen galloped up to the dogs; one in a red cap, the +other, a stranger, in a green coat. + +"What's this?" thought Nicholas. "Where's that huntsman from? He +is not 'Uncle's' man." + +The huntsmen got the fox, but stayed there a long time without +strapping it to the saddle. Their horses, bridled and with high +saddles, stood near them and there too the dogs were lying. The +huntsmen waved their arms and did something to the fox. Then from that +spot came the sound of a horn, with the signal agreed on in case of +a fight. + +"That's Ilagin's huntsman having a row with our Ivan," said +Nicholas' groom. + +Nicholas sent the man to call Natasha and Petya to him, and rode +at a footpace to the place where the whips were getting the hounds +together. Several of the field galloped to the spot where the fight +was going on. + +Nicholas dismounted, and with Natasha and Petya, who had ridden +up, stopped near the hounds, waiting to see how the matter would +end. Out of the bushes came the huntsman who had been fighting and +rode toward his young master, with the fox tied to his crupper. +While still at a distance he took off his cap and tried to speak +respectfully, but he was pale and breathless and his face was angry. +One of his eyes was black, but he probably was not even aware of it. + +"What has happened?" asked Nicholas. + +"A likely thing, killing a fox our dogs had hunted! And it was my +gray bitch that caught it! Go to law, indeed!... He snatches at the +fox! I gave him one with the fox. Here it is on my saddle! Do you want +a taste of this?..." said the huntsman, pointing to his dagger and +probably imagining himself still speaking to his foe. + +Nicholas, not stopping to talk to the man, asked his sister and +Petya to wait for him and rode to the spot where the enemy's, +Ilagin's, hunting party was. + +The victorious huntsman rode off to join the field, and there, +surrounded by inquiring sympathizers, recounted his exploits. + +The facts were that Ilagin, with whom the Rostovs had a quarrel +and were at law, hunted over places that belonged by custom to the +Rostovs, and had now, as if purposely, sent his men to the very +woods the Rostovs were hunting and let his man snatch a fox their dogs +had chased. + +Nicholas, though he had never seen Ilagin, with his usual absence of +moderation in judgment, hated him cordially from reports of his +arbitrariness and violence, and regarded him as his bitterest foe. +He rode in angry agitation toward him, firmly grasping his whip and +fully prepared to take the most resolute and desperate steps to punish +his enemy. + +Hardly had he passed an angle of the wood before a stout gentleman +in a beaver cap came riding toward him on a handsome raven-black +horse, accompanied by two hunt servants. + +Instead of an enemy, Nicholas found in Ilagin a stately and +courteous gentleman who was particularly anxious to make the young +count's acquaintance. Having ridden up to Nicholas, Ilagin raised +his beaver cap and said he much regretted what had occurred and +would have the man punished who had allowed himself to seize a fox +hunted by someone else's borzois. He hoped to become better acquainted +with the count and invited him to draw his covert. + +Natasha, afraid that her brother would do something dreadful, had +followed him in some excitement. Seeing the enemies exchanging +friendly greetings, she rode up to them. Ilagin lifted his beaver +cap still higher to Natasha and said, with a pleasant smile, that +the young countess resembled Diana in her passion for the chase as +well as in her beauty, of which he had heard much. + +To expiate his huntsman's offense, Ilagin pressed the Rostovs to +come to an upland of his about a mile away which he usually kept for +himself and which, he said, swarmed with hares. Nicholas agreed, and +the hunt, now doubled, moved on. + +The way to Iligin's upland was across the fields. The hunt +servants fell into line. The masters rode together. "Uncle," Rostov, +and Ilagin kept stealthily glancing at one another's dogs, trying +not to be observed by their companions and searching uneasily for +rivals to their own borzois. + +Rostov was particularly struck by the beauty of a small, +pure-bred, red-spotted bitch on Ilagin's leash, slender but with +muscles like steel, a delicate muzzle, and prominent black eyes. He +had heard of the swiftness of Ilagin's borzois, and in that +beautiful bitch saw a rival to his own Milka. + +In the middle of a sober conversation begun by Ilagin about the +year's harvest, Nicholas pointed to the red-spotted bitch. + +"A fine little bitch, that!" said he in a careless tone. "Is she +swift?" + +"That one? Yes, she's a good dog, gets what she's after," answered +Ilagin indifferently, of the red-spotted bitch Erza, for which, a year +before, he had given a neighbor three families of house serfs. "So +in your parts, too, the harvest is nothing to boast of, Count?" he +went on, continuing the conversation they had begun. And considering +it polite to return the young count's compliment, Ilagin looked at his +borzois and picked out Milka who attracted his attention by her +breadth. "That black-spotted one of yours is fine--well shaped!" +said he. + +"Yes, she's fast enough," replied Nicholas, and thought: "If only +a full-grown hare would cross the field now I'd show you what sort +of borzoi she is," and turning to his groom, he said he would give a +ruble to anyone who found a hare. + +"I don't understand," continued Ilagin, "how some sportsmen can be +so jealous about game and dogs. For myself, I can tell you, Count, I +enjoy riding in company such as this... what could be better?" (he +again raised his cap to Natasha) "but as for counting skins and what +one takes, I don't care about that." + +"Of course not!" + +"Or being upset because someone else's borzoi and not mine catches +something. All I care about is to enjoy seeing the chase, is it not +so, Count? For I consider that..." + +"A-tu!" came the long-drawn cry of one of the borzoi whippers-in, +who had halted. He stood on a knoll in the stubble, holding his whip +aloft, and again repeated his long-drawn cry, "A-tu!" (This call and +the uplifted whip meant that he saw a sitting hare.) + +"Ah, he has found one, I think," said Ilagin carelessly. "Yes, we +must ride up.... Shall we both course it?" answered Nicholas, seeing +in Erza and "Uncle's" red Rugay two rivals he had never yet had a +chance of pitting against his own borzois. "And suppose they outdo +my Milka at once!" he thought as he rode with "Uncle" and Ilagin +toward the hare. + +"A full-grown one?" asked Ilagin as he approached the whip who had +sighted the hare--and not without agitation he looked round and +whistled to Erza. + +"And you, Michael Nikanorovich?" he said, addressing "Uncle." + +The latter was riding with a sullen expression on his face. + +"How can I join in? Why, you've given a village for each of your +borzois! That's it, come on! Yours are worth thousands. Try yours +against one another, you two, and I'll look on!" + +"Rugay, hey, hey!" he shouted. "Rugayushka!" he added, involuntarily +by this diminutive expressing his affection and the hopes he placed on +this red borzoi. Natasha saw and felt the agitation the two elderly +men and her brother were trying to conceal, and was herself excited by +it. + +The huntsman stood halfway up the knoll holding up his whip and +the gentlefolk rode up to him at a footpace; the hounds that were +far off on the horizon turned away from the hare, and the whips, but +not the gentlefolk, also moved away. All were moving slowly and +sedately. + +"How is it pointing?" asked Nicholas, riding a hundred paces +toward the whip who had sighted the hare. + +But before the whip could reply, the hare, scenting the frost coming +next morning, was unable to rest and leaped up. The pack on leash +rushed downhill in full cry after the hare, and from all sides the +borzois that were not on leash darted after the hounds and the hare. +All the hunt, who had been moving slowly, shouted, "Stop!" calling +in the hounds, while the borzoi whips, with a cry of "A-tu!" galloped +across the field setting the borzois on the hare. The tranquil Ilagin, +Nicholas, Natasha, and "Uncle" flew, reckless of where and how they +went, seeing only the borzois and the hare and fearing only to lose +sight even for an instant of the chase. The hare they had started +was a strong and swift one. When he jumped up he did not run at +once, but pricked his ears listening to the shouting and trampling +that resounded from all sides at once. He took a dozen bounds, not +very quickly, letting the borzois gain on him, and, finally having +chosen his direction and realized his danger, laid back his ears and +rushed off headlong. He had been lying in the stubble, but in front of +him was the autumn sowing where the ground was soft. The two borzois +of the huntsman who had sighted him, having been the nearest, were the +first to see and pursue him, but they had not gone far before Ilagin's +red-spotted Erza passed them, got within a length, flew at the hare +with terrible swiftness aiming at his scut, and, thinking she had +seized him, rolled over like a ball. The hare arched his back and +bounded off yet more swiftly. From behind Erza rushed the +broad-haunched, black-spotted Milka and began rapidly gaining on the +hare. + +"Milashka, dear!" rose Nicholas' triumphant cry. It looked as if +Milka would immediately pounce on the hare, but she overtook him and +flew past. The hare had squatted. Again the beautiful Erza reached +him, but when close to the hare's scut paused as if measuring the +distance, so as not to make a mistake this time but seize his hind +leg. + +"Erza, darling!" Ilagin wailed in a voice unlike his own. Erza did +not hearken to his appeal. At the very moment when she would have +seized her prey, the hare moved and darted along the balk between +the winter rye and the stubble. Again Erza and Milka were abreast, +running like a pair of carriage horses, and began to overtake the +hare, but it was easier for the hare to run on the balk and the +borzois did not overtake him so quickly. + +"Rugay, Rugayushka! That's it, come on!" came a third voice just +then, and "Uncle's" red borzoi, straining and curving its back, caught +up with the two foremost borzois, pushed ahead of them regardless of +the terrible strain, put on speed close to the hare, knocked it off +the balk onto the ryefield, again put on speed still more viciously, +sinking to his knees in the muddy field, and all one could see was +how, muddying his back, he rolled over with the hare. A ring of +borzois surrounded him. A moment later everyone had drawn up round the +crowd of dogs. Only the delighted "Uncle" dismounted, and cut off a +pad, shaking the hare for the blood to drip off, and anxiously +glancing round with restless eyes while his arms and legs twitched. He +spoke without himself knowing whom to or what about. "That's it, +come on! That's a dog!... There, it has beaten them all, the +thousand-ruble as well as the one-ruble borzois. That's it, come +on!" said he, panting and looking wrathfully around as if he were +abusing someone, as if they were all his enemies and had insulted him, +and only now had he at last succeeded in justifying himself. "There +are your thousand-ruble ones.... That's it, come on!..." + +"Rugay, here's a pad for you!" he said, throwing down the hare's +muddy pad. "You've deserved it, that's it, come on!" + +"She'd tired herself out, she'd run it down three times by herself," +said Nicholas, also not listening to anyone and regardless of +whether he were heard or not. + +"But what is there in running across it like that?" said Ilagin's +groom. + +"Once she had missed it and turned it away, any mongrel could take +it," Ilagin was saying at the same time, breathless from his gallop +and his excitement. At the same moment Natasha, without drawing +breath, screamed joyously, ecstatically, and so piercingly that it set +everyone's ear tingling. By that shriek she expressed what the +others expressed by all talking at once, and it was so strange that +she must herself have been ashamed of so wild a cry and everyone +else would have been amazed at it at any other time. "Uncle" himself +twisted up the hare, threw it neatly and smartly across his horse's +back as if by that gesture he meant to rebuke everybody, and, with +an air of not wishing to speak to anyone, mounted his bay and rode +off. The others all followed, dispirited and shamefaced, and only much +later were they able to regain their former affectation of +indifference. For a long time they continued to look at red Rugay who, +his arched back spattered with mud and clanking the ring of his leash, +walked along just behind "Uncle's" horse with the serene air of a +conqueror. + +"Well, I am like any other dog as long as it's not a question of +coursing. But when it is, then look out!" his appearance seemed to +Nicholas to be saying. + +When, much later, "Uncle" rode up to Nicholas and began talking to +him, he felt flattered that, after what had happened, "Uncle" +deigned to speak to him. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Toward evening Ilagin took leave of Nicholas, who found that they +were so far from home that he accepted "Uncle's" offer that the +hunting party should spend the night in his little village of +Mikhaylovna. + +"And if you put up at my house that will be better still. That's it, +come on!" said "Uncle." "You see it's damp weather, and you could +rest, and the little countess could be driven home in a trap." + +"Uncle's" offer was accepted. A huntsman was sent to Otradnoe for +a trap, while Nicholas rode with Natasha and Petya to "Uncle's" house. + +Some five male domestic serfs, big and little, rushed out to the +front porch to meet their master. A score of women serfs, old and +young, as well as children, popped out from the back entrance to +have a look at the hunters who were arriving. The presence of Natasha- +a woman, a lady, and on horseback--raised the curiosity of the serfs +to such a degree that many of them came up to her, stared her in the +face, and unabashed by her presence made remarks about her as though +she were some prodigy on show and not a human being able to hear or +understand what was said about her. + +"Arinka! Look, she sits sideways! There she sits and her skirt +dangles.... See, she's got a little hunting horn!" + +"Goodness gracious! See her knife?..." + +"Isn't she a Tartar!" + +"How is it you didn't go head over heels?" asked the boldest of all, +addressing Natasha directly. + +"Uncle" dismounted at the porch of his little wooden house which +stood in the midst of an overgrown garden and, after a glance at his +retainers, shouted authoritatively that the superfluous ones should +take themselves off and that all necessary preparations should be made +to receive the guests and the visitors. + +The serfs all dispersed. "Uncle" lifted Natasha off her horse and +taking her hand led her up the rickety wooden steps of the porch. +The house, with its bare, unplastered log walls, was not overclean--it +did not seem that those living in it aimed at keeping it spotless--but +neither was it noticeably neglected. In the entry there was a smell of +fresh apples, and wolf and fox skins hung about. + +"Uncle" led the visitors through the anteroom into a small hall with +a folding table and red chairs, then into the drawing room with a +round birchwood table and a sofa, and finally into his private room +where there was a tattered sofa, a worn carpet, and portraits of +Suvorov, of the host's father and mother, and of himself in military +uniform. The study smelt strongly of tobacco and dogs. "Uncle" asked +his visitors to sit down and make themselves at home, and then went +out of the room. Rugay, his back still muddy, came into the room and +lay down on the sofa, cleaning himself with his tongue and teeth. +Leading from the study was a passage in which a partition with +ragged curtains could be seen. From behind this came women's +laughter and whispers. Natasha, Nicholas, and Petya took off their +wraps and sat down on the sofa. Petya, leaning on his elbow, fell +asleep at once. Natasha and Nicholas were silent. Their faces +glowed, they were hungry and very cheerful. They looked at one another +(now that the hunt was over and they were in the house, Nicholas no +longer considered it necessary to show his manly superiority over +his sister), Natasha gave him a wink, and neither refrained long +from bursting into a peal of ringing laughter even before they had a +pretext ready to account for it. + +After a while "Uncle" came in, in a Cossack coat, blue trousers, and +small top boots. And Natasha felt that this costume, the very one +she had regarded with surprise and amusement at Otradnoe, was just the +right thing and not at all worse than a swallow-tail or frock coat. +"Uncle" too was in high spirits and far from being offended by the +brother's and sister's laughter (it could never enter his head that +they might be laughing at his way of life) he himself joined in the +merriment. + +"That's right, young countess, that's it, come on! I never saw +anyone like her!" said he, offering Nicholas a pipe with a long stem +and, with a practiced motion of three fingers, taking down another +that had been cut short. "She's ridden all day like a man, and is as +fresh as ever!" + +Soon after "Uncle's" reappearance the door was opened, evidently +from the sound by a barefooted girl, and a stout, rosy, good-looking +woman of about forty, with a double chin and full red lips, entered +carrying a large loaded tray. With hospitable dignity and cordiality +in her glance and in every motion, she looked at the visitors and, +with a pleasant smile, bowed respectfully. In spite of her exceptional +stoutness, which caused her to protrude her chest and stomach and +throw back her head, this woman (who was "Uncle's" housekeeper) trod +very lightly. She went to the table, set down the tray, and with her +plump white hands deftly took from it the bottles and various hors +d'oeuvres and dishes and arranged them on the table. When she had +finished, she stepped aside and stopped at the door with a smile on +her face. "Here I am. I am she! Now do you understand 'Uncle'?" her +expression said to Rostov. How could one help understanding? Not +only Nicholas, but even Natasha understood the meaning of his puckered +brow and the happy complacent smile that slightly puckered his lips +when Anisya Fedorovna entered. On the tray was a bottle of herb +wine, different kinds of vodka, pickled mushrooms, rye cakes made with +buttermilk, honey in the comb, still mead and sparkling mead, +apples, nuts (raw and roasted), and nut-and-honey sweets. Afterwards +she brought a freshly roasted chicken, ham, preserves made with honey, +and preserves made with sugar. + +All this was the fruit of Anisya Fedorovna's housekeeping, +gathered and prepared by her. The smell and taste of it all had a +smack of Anisya Fedorovna herself: a savor of juiciness, +cleanliness, whiteness, and pleasant smiles. + +"Take this, little Lady-Countess!" she kept saying, as she offered +Natasha first one thing and then another. + +Natasha ate of everything and thought she had never seen or eaten +such buttermilk cakes, such aromatic jam, such honey-and-nut sweets, +or such a chicken anywhere. Anisya Fedorovna left the room. + +After supper, over their cherry brandy, Rostov and "Uncle" talked of +past and future hunts, of Rugay and Ilagin's dogs, while Natasha sat +upright on the sofa and listened with sparkling eyes. She tried +several times to wake Petya that he might eat something, but he only +muttered incoherent words without waking up. Natasha felt so +lighthearted and happy in these novel surroundings that she only +feared the trap would come for her too soon. After a casual pause, +such as often occurs when receiving friends for the first time in +one's own house, "Uncle," answering a thought that was in his +visitors' mind, said: + +"This, you see, is how I am finishing my days... Death will come. +That's it, come on! Nothing will remain. Then why harm anyone?" + +"Uncle's" face was very significant and even handsome as he said +this. Involuntarily Rostov recalled all the good he had heard about +him from his father and the neighbors. Throughout the whole province +"Uncle" had the reputation of being the most honorable and +disinterested of cranks. They called him in to decide family disputes, +chose him as executor, confided secrets to him, elected him to be a +justice and to other posts; but he always persistently refused +public appointments, passing the autumn and spring in the fields on +his bay gelding, sitting at home in winter, and lying in his overgrown +garden in summer. + +"Why don't you enter the service, Uncle?" + +"I did once, but gave it up. I am not fit for it. That's it, come +on! I can't make head or tail of it. That's for you--I haven't +brains enough. Now, hunting is another matter--that's it, come on! +Open the door, there!" he shouted. "Why have you shut it?" + +The door at the end of the passage led to the huntsmen's room, as +they called the room for the hunt servants. + +There was a rapid patter of bare feet, and an unseen hand opened the +door into the huntsmen's room, from which came the clear sounds of a +balalayka on which someone, who was evidently a master of the art, was +playing. Natasha had been listening to those strains for some time and +now went out into the passage to hear better. + +"That's Mitka, my coachman.... I have got him a good balalayka. +I'm fond of it," said "Uncle." + +It was the custom for Mitka to play the balalayka in the +huntsmen's room when "Uncle" returned from the chase. "Uncle" was fond +of such music. + +"How good! Really very good!" said Nicholas with some +unintentional superciliousness, as if ashamed to confess that the +sounds pleased him very much. + +"Very good?" said Natasha reproachfully, noticing her brother's +tone. "Not 'very good' it's simply delicious!" + +Just as "Uncle's" pickled mushrooms, honey, and cherry brandy had +seemed to her the best in the world, so also that song, at that +moment, seemed to her the acme of musical delight. + +"More, please, more!" cried Natasha at the door as soon as the +balalayka ceased. Mitka tuned up afresh, and recommenced thrumming the +balalayka to the air of My Lady, with trills and variations. "Uncle" +sat listening, slightly smiling, with his head on one side. The air +was repeated a hundred times. The balalayka was retuned several +times and the same notes were thrummed again, but the listeners did +not grow weary of it and wished to hear it again and again. Anisya +Fedorovna came in and leaned her portly person against the doorpost. + +"You like listening?" she said to Natasha, with a smile extremely +like "Uncle's." "That's a good player of ours," she added. + +"He doesn't play that part right!" said "Uncle" suddenly, with an +energetic gesture. "Here he ought to burst out--that's it, come on!- +ought to burst out." + +"Do you play then?" asked Natasha. + +"Uncle" did not answer, but smiled. + +"Anisya, go and see if the strings of my guitar are all right. I +haven't touched it for a long time. That's it--come on! I've given +it up." + +Anisya Fedorovna, with her light step, willingly went to fulfill her +errand and brought back the guitar. + +Without looking at anyone, "Uncle" blew the dust off it and, tapping +the case with his bony fingers, tuned the guitar and settled himself +in his armchair. He took the guitar a little above the fingerboard, +arching his left elbow with a somewhat theatrical gesture, and, with a +wink at Anisya Fedorovna, struck a single chord, pure and sonorous, +and then quietly, smoothly, and confidently began playing in very slow +time, not My Lady, but the well-known song: Came a maiden down the +street. The tune, played with precision and in exact time, began to +thrill in the hearts of Nicholas and Natasha, arousing in them the +same kind of sober mirth as radiated from Anisya Fedorovna's whole +being. Anisya Fedorovna flushed, and drawing her kerchief over her +face went laughing out of the room. "Uncle" continued to play +correctly, carefully, with energetic firmness, looking with a +changed and inspired expression at the spot where Anisya Fedorovna had +just stood. Something seemed to be laughing a little on one side of +his face under his gray mustaches, especially as the song grew brisker +and the time quicker and when, here and there, as he ran his fingers +over the strings, something seemed to snap. + +"Lovely, lovely! Go on, Uncle, go on!" shouted Natasha as soon as he +had finished. She jumped up and hugged and kissed him. "Nicholas, +Nicholas!" she said, turning to her brother, as if asking him: "What +is it moves me so?" + +Nicholas too was greatly pleased by "Uncle's" playing, and "Uncle" +played the piece over again. Anisya Fedorovna's smiling face +reappeared in the doorway and behind hers other faces... + + Fetching water clear and sweet, + Stop, dear maiden, I entreat- + +played "Uncle" once more, running his fingers skillfully over the +strings, and then he stopped short and jerked his shoulders. + +"Go on, Uncle dear," Natasha wailed in an imploring tone as if her +life depended on it. + +"Uncle" rose, and it was as if there were two men in him: one of +them smiled seriously at the merry fellow, while the merry fellow +struck a naive and precise attitude preparatory to a folk dance. + +"Now then, niece!" he exclaimed, waving to Natasha the hand that had +just struck a chord. + +Natasha threw off the shawl from her shoulders, ran forward to +face "Uncle," and setting her arms akimbo also made a motion with +her shoulders and struck an attitude. + +Where, how, and when had this young countess, educated by an emigree +French governess, imbibed from the Russian air she breathed that +spirit and obtained that manner which the pas de chale* would, one +would have supposed, long ago have effaced? But the spirit and the +movements were those inimitable and unteachable Russian ones that +"Uncle" had expected of her. As soon as she had struck her pose, and +smiled triumphantly, proudly, and with sly merriment, the fear that +had at first seized Nicholas and the others that she might not do +the right thing was at an end, and they were already admiring her. + + +*The French shawl dance. + + +She did the right thing with such precision, such complete +precision, that Anisya Fedorovna, who had at once handed her the +handkerchief she needed for the dance, had tears in her eyes, though +she laughed as she watched this slim, graceful countess, reared in +silks and velvets and so different from herself, who yet was able to +understand all that was in Anisya and in Anisya's father and mother +and aunt, and in every Russian man and woman. + +"Well, little countess; that's it--come on!" cried "Uncle," with a +joyous laugh, having finished the dance. "Well done, niece! Now a fine +young fellow must be found as husband for you. That's it--come on!" + +"He's chosen already," said Nicholas smiling. + +"Oh?" said "Uncle" in surprise, looking inquiringly at Natasha, +who nodded her head with a happy smile. + +"And such a one!" she said. But as soon as she had said it a new +train of thoughts and feelings arose in her. "What did Nicholas' smile +mean when he said 'chosen already'? Is he glad of it or not? It is +as if he thought my Bolkonski would not approve of or understand our +gaiety. But he would understand it all. Where is he now?" she thought, +and her face suddenly became serious. But this lasted only a second. +"Don't dare to think about it," she said to herself, and sat down +again smilingly beside "Uncle," begging him to play something more. + +"Uncle" played another song and a valse; then after a pause he +cleared his throat and sang his favorite hunting song: + + As 'twas growing dark last night + Fell the snow so soft and light... + + +"Uncle" sang as peasants sing, with full and naive conviction that +the whole meaning of a song lies in the words and that the tune +comes of itself, and that apart from the words there is no tune, which +exists only to give measure to the words. As a result of this the +unconsidered tune, like the song of a bird, was extraordinarily +good. Natasha was in ecstasies over "Uncle's" singing. She resolved to +give up learning the harp and to play only the guitar. She asked +"Uncle" for his guitar and at once found the chords of the song. + +After nine o'clock two traps and three mounted men, who had been +sent to look for them, arrived to fetch Natasha and Petya. The count +and countess did not know where they were and were very anxious, +said one of the men. + +Petya was carried out like a log and laid in the larger of the two +traps. Natasha and Nicholas got into the other. "Uncle" wrapped +Natasha up warmly and took leave of her with quite a new tenderness. +He accompanied them on foot as far as the bridge that could not be +crossed, so that they had to go round by the ford, and he sent +huntsmen to ride in front with lanterns. + +"Good-by, dear niece," his voice called out of the darkness--not the +voice Natasha had known previously, but the one that had sung As 'twas +growing dark last night. + +In the village through which they passed there were red lights and a +cheerful smell of smoke. + +"What a darling Uncle is!" said Natasha, when they had come out onto +the highroad. + +"Yes," returned Nicholas. "You're not cold?" + +"No. I'm quite, quite all right. I feel so comfortable!" answered +Natasha, almost perplexed by her feelings. They remained silent a long +while. The night was dark and damp. They could not see the horses, but +only heard them splashing through the unseen mud. + +What was passing in that receptive childlike soul that so eagerly +caught and assimilated all the diverse impressions of life? How did +they all find place in her? But she was very happy. As they were +nearing home she suddenly struck up the air of As 'twas growing dark +last night--the tune of which she had all the way been trying to get +and had at last caught. + +"Got it?" said Nicholas. + +"What were you thinking about just now, Nicholas?" inquired Natasha. + +They were fond of asking one another that question. + +"I?" said Nicholas, trying to remember. "Well, you see, first I +thought that Rugay, the red hound, was like Uncle, and that if he were +a man he would always keep Uncle near him, if not for his riding, then +for his manner. What a good fellow Uncle is! Don't you think so?... +Well, and you?" + +"I? Wait a bit, wait.... Yes, first I thought that we are driving +along and imagining that we are going home, but that heaven knows +where we are really going in the darkness, and that we shall arrive +and suddenly find that we are not in Otradnoe, but in Fairyland. And +then I thought... No, nothing else." + +"I know, I expect you thought of him," said Nicholas, smiling as +Natasha knew by the sound of his voice. + +"No," said Natasha, though she had in reality been thinking about +Prince Andrew at the same time as of the rest, and of how he would +have liked "Uncle." "And then I was saying to myself all the way, 'How +well Anisya carried herself, how well!'" And Nicholas heard her +spontaneous, happy, ringing laughter. "And do you know," she +suddenly said, "I know that I shall never again be as happy and +tranquil as I am now." + +"Rubbish, nonsense, humbug!" exclaimed Nicholas, and he thought: +"How charming this Natasha of mine is! I have no other friend like her +and never shall have. Why should she marry? We might always drive +about together!" + +"What a darling this Nicholas of mine is!" thought Natasha. + +"Ah, there are still lights in the drawingroom!" she said, +pointing to the windows of the house that gleamed invitingly in the +moist velvety darkness of the night. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Count Ilya Rostov had resigned the position of Marshal of the +Nobility because it involved him in too much expense, but still his +affairs did not improve. Natasha and Nicholas often noticed their +parents conferring together anxiously and privately and heard +suggestions of selling the fine ancestral Rostov house and estate near +Moscow. It was not necessary to entertain so freely as when the +count had been Marshal, and life at Otradnoe was quieter than in +former years, but still the enormous house and its lodges were full of +people and more than twenty sat down to table every day. These were +all their own people who had settled down in the house almost as +members of the family, or persons who were, it seemed, obliged to live +in the count's house. Such were Dimmler the musician and his wife, +Vogel the dancing master and his family, Belova, an old maiden lady, +an inmate of the house, and many others such as Petya's tutors, the +girls' former governess, and other people who simply found it +preferable and more advantageous to live in the count's house than +at home. They had not as many visitors as before, but the old habits +of life without which the count and countess could not conceive of +existence remained unchanged. There was still the hunting +establishment which Nicholas had even enlarged, the same fifty +horses and fifteen grooms in the stables, the same expensive +presents and dinner parties to the whole district on name days; +there were still the count's games of whist and boston, at which- +spreading out his cards so that everybody could see them--he let +himself be plundered of hundreds of rubles every day by his neighbors, +who looked upon an opportunity to play a rubber with Count Rostov as a +most profitable source of income. + +The count moved in his affairs as in a huge net, trying not to +believe that he was entangled but becoming more and more so at every +step, and feeling too feeble to break the meshes or to set to work +carefully and patiently to disentangle them. The countess, with her +loving heart, felt that her children were being ruined, that it was +not the count's fault for he could not help being what he was--that +(though he tried to hide it) he himself suffered from the +consciousness of his own and his children's ruin, and she tried to +find means of remedying the position. From her feminine point of +view she could see only one solution, namely, for Nicholas to marry +a rich heiress. She felt this to be their last hope and that if +Nicholas refused the match she had found for him, she would have to +abandon the hope of ever getting matters right. This match was with +Julie Karagina, the daughter of excellent and virtuous parents, a girl +the Rostovs had known from childhood, and who had now become a wealthy +heiress through the death of the last of her brothers. + +The countess had written direct to Julie's mother in Moscow +suggesting a marriage between their children and had received a +favorable answer from her. Karagina had replied that for her part +she was agreeable, and everything depend on her daughter's +inclination. She invited Nicholas to come to Moscow. + +Several times the countess, with tears in her eyes, told her son +that now both her daughters were settled, her only wish was to see him +married. She said she could lie down in her grave peacefully if that +were accomplished. Then she told him that she knew of a splendid +girl and tried to discover what he thought about marriage. + +At other times she praised Julie to him and advised him to go to +Moscow during the holidays to amuse himself. Nicholas guessed what his +mother's remarks were leading to and during one of these conversations +induced her to speak quite frankly. She told him that her only hope of +getting their affairs disentangled now lay in his marrying Julie +Karagina. + +"But, Mamma, suppose I loved a girl who has no fortune, would you +expect me to sacrifice my feelings and my honor for the sake of +money?" he asked his mother, not realizing the cruelty of his question +and only wishing to show his noble-mindedness. + +"No, you have not understood me," said his mother, not knowing how +to justify herself. "You have not understood me, Nikolenka. It is your +happiness I wish for," she added, feeling that she was telling an +untruth and was becoming entangled. She began to cry. + +"Mamma, don't cry! Only tell me that you wish it, and you know I +will give my life, anything, to put you at ease," said Nicholas. "I +would sacrifice anything for you--even my feelings." + +But the countess did not want the question put like that: she did +not want a sacrifice from her son, she herself wished to make a +sacrifice for him. + +"No, you have not understood me, don't let us talk about it," she +replied, wiping away her tears. + +"Maybe I do love a poor girl," said Nicholas to himself. "Am I to +sacrifice my feelings and my honor for money? I wonder how Mamma could +speak so to me. Because Sonya is poor I must not love her," he +thought, "must not respond to her faithful, devoted love? Yet I should +certainly be happier with her than with some doll-like Julie. I can +always sacrifice my feelings for my family's welfare," he said to +himself, "but I can't coerce my feelings. If I love Sonya, that +feeling is for me stronger and higher than all else." + +Nicholas did not go to Moscow, and the countess did not renew the +conversation with him about marriage. She saw with sorrow, and +sometimes with exasperation, symptoms of a growing attachment +between her son and the portionless Sonya. Though she blamed herself +for it, she could not refrain from grumbling at and worrying Sonya, +often pulling her up without reason, addressing her stiffly as "my +dear," and using the formal "you" instead of the intimate "thou" in +speaking to her. The kindhearted countess was the more vexed with +Sonya because that poor, dark-eyed niece of hers was so meek, so kind, +so devotedly grateful to her benefactors, and so faithfully, +unchangingly, and unselfishly in love with Nicholas, that there were +no grounds for finding fault with her. + +Nicholas was spending the last of his leave at home. A fourth letter +had come from Prince Andrew, from Rome, in which he wrote that he +would have been on his way back to Russia long ago had not his wound +unexpectedly reopened in the warm climate, which obliged him to +defer his return till the beginning of the new year. Natasha was still +as much in love with her betrothed, found the same comfort in that +love, and was still as ready to throw herself into all the pleasures +of life as before; but at the end of the fourth month of their +separation she began to have fits of depression which she could not +master. She felt sorry for herself: sorry that she was being wasted +all this time and of no use to anyone--while she felt herself so +capable of loving and being loved. + +Things were not cheerful in the Rostovs' home. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Christmas came and except for the ceremonial Mass, the solemn and +wearisome Christmas congratulations from neighbors and servants, and +the new dresses everyone put on, there were no special festivities, +though the calm frost of twenty degrees Reaumur, the dazzling sunshine +by day, and the starlight of the winter nights seemed to call for some +special celebration of the season. + +On the third day of Christmas week, after the midday dinner, all the +inmates of the house dispersed to various rooms. It was the dullest +time of the day. Nicholas, who had been visiting some neighbors that +morning, was asleep on the sitting-room sofa. The old count was +resting in his study. Sonya sat in the drawing room at the round +table, copying a design for embroidery. The countess was playing +patience. Nastasya Ivanovna the buffoon sat with a sad face at the +window with two old ladies. Natasha came into the room, went up to +Sonya, glanced at what she was doing, and then went up to her mother +and stood without speaking. + +"Why are you wandering about like an outcast?" asked her mother. +"What do you want?" + +"Him... I want him... now, this minute! I want him!" said Natasha, +with glittering eyes and no sign of a smile. + +The countess lifted her head and looked attentively at her daughter. + +"Don't look at me, Mamma! Don't look; I shall cry directly." + +"Sit down with me a little," said the countess. + +"Mamma, I want him. Why should I be wasted like this, Mamma?" + +Her voice broke, tears gushed from her eyes, and she turned +quickly to hide them and left the room. + +She passed into the sitting room, stood there thinking awhile, and +then went into the maids' room. There an old maidservant was grumbling +at a young girl who stood panting, having just run in through the cold +from the serfs' quarters. + +"Stop playing--there's a time for everything," said the old woman. + +"Let her alone, Kondratevna," said Natasha. "Go, Mavrushka, go." + +Having released Mavrushka, Natasha crossed the dancing hall and went +to the vestibule. There an old footman and two young ones were playing +cards. They broke off and rose as she entered. + +"What can I do with them?" thought Natasha. + +"Oh, Nikita, please go... where can I send him?... Yes, go to the +yard and fetch a fowl, please, a cock, and you, Misha, bring me some +oats." + +"Just a few oats?" said Misha, cheerfully and readily. + +"Go, go quickly," the old man urged him. + +"And you, Theodore, get me a piece of chalk." + +On her way past the butler's pantry she told them to set a +samovar, though it was not at all the time for tea. + +Foka, the butler, was the most ill-tempered person in the house. +Natasha liked to test her power over him. He distrusted the order +and asked whether the samovar was really wanted. + +"Oh dear, what a young lady!" said Foka, pretending to frown at +Natasha. + +No one in the house sent people about or gave them as much trouble +as Natasha did. She could not see people unconcernedly, but had to +send them on some errand. She seemed to be trying whether any of +them would get angry or sulky with her; but the serfs fulfilled no +one's orders so readily as they did hers. "What can I do, where can +I go?" thought she, as she went slowly along the passage. + +"Nastasya Ivanovna, what sort of children shall I have?" she asked +the buffoon, who was coming toward her in a woman's jacket. + +"Why, fleas, crickets, grasshoppers," answered the buffoon. + +"O Lord, O Lord, it's always the same! Oh, where am I to go? What am +I to do with myself?" And tapping with her heels, she ran quickly +upstairs to see Vogel and his wife who lived on the upper story. + +Two governesses were sitting with the Vogels at a table, on which +were plates of raisins, walnuts, and almonds. The governesses were +discussing whether it was cheaper to live in Moscow or Odessa. Natasha +sat down, listened to their talk with a serious and thoughtful air, +and then got up again. + +"The island of Madagascar," she said, "Ma-da-gas-car," she repeated, +articulating each syllable distinctly, and, not replying to Madame +Schoss who asked her what she was saying, she went out of the room. + +Her brother Petya was upstairs too; with the man in attendance on +him he was preparing fireworks to let off that night. + +"Petya! Petya!" she called to him. "Carry me downstairs." + +Petya ran up and offered her his back. She jumped on it, putting her +arms round his neck, and he pranced along with her. + +"No, don't... the island of Madagascar!" she said, and jumping off +his back she went downstairs. + +Having as it were reviewed her kingdom, tested her power, and made +sure that everyone was submissive, but that all the same it was +dull, Natasha betook herself to the ballroom, picked up her guitar, +sat down in a dark corner behind a bookcase, and began to run her +fingers over the strings in the bass, picking out a passage she +recalled from an opera she had heard in Petersburg with Prince Andrew. +What she drew from the guitar would have had no meaning for other +listeners, but in her imagination a whole series of reminiscences +arose from those sounds. She sat behind the bookcase with her eyes +fixed on a streak of light escaping from the pantry door and +listened to herself and pondered. She was in a mood for brooding on +the past. + +Sonya passed to the pantry with a glass in her hand. Natasha glanced +at her and at the crack in the pantry door, and it seemed to her +that she remembered the light failing through that crack once before +and Sonya passing with a glass in her hand. "Yes it was exactly the +same," thought Natasha. + +"Sonya, what is this?" she cried, twanging a thick string. + +"Oh, you are there!" said Sonya with a start, and came near and +listened. "I don't know. A storm?" she ventured timidly, afraid of +being wrong. + +"There! That's just how she started and just how she came up smiling +timidly when all this happened before," thought Natasha, "and in +just the same way I thought there was something lacking in her." + +"No, it's the chorus from The Water-Carrier, listen!" and Natasha +sang the air of the chorus so that Sonya should catch it. "Where +were you going?" she asked. + +"To change the water in this glass. I am just finishing the design." + +"You always find something to do, but I can't," said Natasha. "And +where's Nicholas?" + +"Asleep, I think." + +"Sonya, go and wake him," said Natasha. "Tell him I want him to come +and sing." + +She sat awhile, wondering what the meaning of it all having happened +before could be, and without solving this problem, or at all +regretting not having done so, she again passed in fancy to the time +when she was with him and he was looking at her with a lover's eyes. + +"Oh, if only he would come quicker! I am so afraid it will never be! +And, worst of all, I am growing old--that's the thing! There won't +then be in me what there is now. But perhaps he'll come today, will +come immediately. Perhaps he has come and is sitting in the drawing +room. Perhaps he came yesterday and I have forgotten it." She rose, +put down the guitar, and went to the drawing room. + +All the domestic circle, tutors, governesses, and guests, were +already at the tea table. The servants stood round the table--but +Prince Andrew was not there and life was going on as before. + +"Ah, here she is!" said the old count, when he saw Natasha enter. +"Well, sit down by me." But Natasha stayed by her mother and glanced +round as if looking for something. + +"Mamma!" she muttered, "give him to me, give him, Mamma, quickly, +quickly!" and she again had difficulty in repressing her sobs. + +She sat down at the table and listened to the conversation between +the elders and Nicholas, who had also come to the table. "My God, my +God! The same faces, the same talk, Papa holding his cup and blowing +in the same way!" thought Natasha, feeling with horror a sense of +repulsion rising up in her for the whole household, because they +were always the same. + +After tea, Nicholas, Sonya, and Natasha went to the sitting room, to +their favorite corner where their most intimate talks always began. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +"Does it ever happen to you," said Natasha to her brother, when +they settled down in the sitting room, "does it ever happen to you +to feel as if there were nothing more to come--nothing; that +everything good is past? And to feel not exactly dull, but sad?" + +"I should think so!" he replied. "I have felt like that when +everything was all right and everyone was cheerful. The thought has +come into my mind that I was already tired of it all, and that we must +all die. Once in the regiment I had not gone to some merrymaking where +there was music... and suddenly I felt so depressed..." + +"Oh yes, I know, I know, I know!" Natasha interrupted him. "When I +was quite little that used to be so with me. Do you remember when I +was punished once about some plums? You were all dancing, and I sat +sobbing in the schoolroom? I shall never forget it: I felt sad and +sorry for everyone, for myself, and for everyone. And I was +innocent--that was the chief thing," said Natasha. "Do you remember?" + +"I remember," answered Nicholas. "I remember that I came to you +afterwards and wanted to comfort you, but do you know, I felt +ashamed to. We were terribly absurd. I had a funny doll then and +wanted to give it to you. Do you remember?" + +"And do you remember," Natasha asked with a pensive smile, "how +once, long, long ago, when we were quite little, Uncle called us +into the study--that was in the old house--and it was dark--we went in +and suddenly there stood..." + +"A Negro," chimed in Nicholas with a smile of delight. "Of course +I remember. Even now I don't know whether there really was a Negro, or +if we only dreamed it or were told about him." + +"He was gray, you remember, and had white teeth, and stood and +looked at us..." + +"Sonya, do you remember?" asked Nicholas. + +"Yes, yes, I do remember something too," Sonya answered timidly. + +"You know I have asked Papa and Mamma about that Negro," said +Natasha, "and they say there was no Negro at all. But you see, you +remember!" + +"Of course I do, I remember his teeth as if I had just seen them." + +"How strange it is! It's as if it were a dream! I like that." + +"And do you remember how we rolled hard-boiled eggs in the ballroom, +and suddenly two old women began spinning round on the carpet? Was +that real or not? Do you remember what fun it was?" + +"Yes, and you remember how Papa in his blue overcoat fired a gun +in the porch?" + +So they went through their memories, smiling with pleasure: not +the sad memories of old age, but poetic, youthful ones--those +impressions of one's most distant past in which dreams and realities +blend--and they laughed with quiet enjoyment. + +Sonya, as always, did not quite keep pace with them, though they +shared the same reminiscences. + +Much that they remembered had slipped from her mind, and what she +recalled did not arouse the same poetic feeling as they experienced. +She simply enjoyed their pleasure and tried to fit in with it. + +She only really took part when they recalled Sonya's first +arrival. She told them how afraid she had been of Nicholas because +he had on a corded jacket and her nurse had told her that she, too, +would be sewn up with cords. + +"And I remember their telling me that you had been born under a +cabbage," said Natasha, "and I remember that I dared not disbelieve +it then, but knew that it was not true, and I felt so uncomfortable." + +While they were talking a maid thrust her head in at the other +door of the sitting room. + +"They have brought the cock, Miss," she said in a whisper. + +"It isn't wanted, Petya. Tell them to take it away," replied +Natasha. + +In the middle of their talk in the sitting room, Dimmler came in and +went up to the harp that stood there in a corner. He took off its +cloth covering, and the harp gave out a jarring sound. + +"Mr. Dimmler, please play my favorite nocturne by Field," came the +old countess' voice from the drawing room. + +Dimmler struck a chord and, turning to Natasha, Nicholas, and Sonya, +remarked: "How quiet you young people are!" + +"Yes, we're philosophizing," said Natasha, glancing round for a +moment and then continuing the conversation. They were now +discussing dreams. + +Dimmler began to play; Natasha went on tiptoe noiselessly to the +table, took up a candle, carried it out, and returned, seating herself +quietly in her former place. It was dark in the room especially +where they were sitting on the sofa, but through the big windows the +silvery light of the full moon fell on the floor. Dimmler had finished +the piece but still sat softly running his fingers over the strings, +evidently uncertain whether to stop or to play something else. + +"Do you know," said Natasha in a whisper, moving closer to +Nicholas and Sonya, "that when one goes on and on recalling +memories, one at last begins to remember what happened before one +was in the world..." + +"That is metempsychosis," said Sonya, who had always learned well, +and remembered everything. "The Egyptians believed that our souls have +lived in animals, and will go back into animals again." + +"No, I don't believe we ever were in animals," said Natasha, still +in a whisper though the music had ceased. "But I am certain that we +were angels somewhere there, and have been here, and that is why we +remember...." + +"May I join you?" said Dimmler who had come up quietly, and he sat +down by them. + +"If we have been angels, why have we fallen lower?" said Nicholas. +"No, that can't be!" + +"Not lower, who said we were lower?... How do I know what I was +before?" Natasha rejoined with conviction. "The soul is immortal--well +then, if I shall always live I must have lived before, lived for a +whole eternity." + +"Yes, but it is hard for us to imagine eternity," remarked +Dimmler, who had joined the young folk with a mildly condescending +smile but now spoke as quietly and seriously as they. + +"Why is it hard to imagine eternity?" said Natasha. "It is now +today, and it will be tomorrow, and always; and there was yesterday, +and the day before..." + +"Natasha! Now it's your turn. Sing me something," they heard the +countess say. "Why are you sitting there like conspirators?" + +"Mamma, I don't at all want to," replied Natasha, but all the same +she rose. + +None of them, not even the middle-aged Dimmler, wanted to break +off their conversation and quit that corner in the sitting room, but +Natasha got up and Nicholas sat down at the clavichord. Standing as +usual in the middle of the hall and choosing the place where the +resonance was best, Natasha began to sing her mother's favorite song. + +She had said she did not want to sing, but it was long since she had +sung, and long before she again sang, as she did that evening. The +count, from his study where he was talking to Mitenka, heard her +and, like a schoolboy in a hurry to run out to play, blundered in +his talk while giving orders to the steward, and at last stopped, +while Mitenka stood in front of him also listening and smiling. +Nicholas did not take his eyes off his sister and drew breath in +time with her. Sonya, as she listened, thought of the immense +difference there was between herself and her friend, and how +impossible it was for her to be anything like as bewitching as her +cousin. The old countess sat with a blissful yet sad smile and with +tears in her eyes, occasionally shaking her head. She thought of +Natasha and of her own youth, and of how there was something unnatural +and dreadful in this impending marriage of Natasha and Prince Andrew. + +Dimmler, who had seated himself beside the countess, listened with +closed eyes. + +"Ah, Countess," he said at last, "that's a European talent, she +has nothing to learn--what softness, tenderness, and strength...." + +"Ah, how afraid I am for her, how afraid I am!" said the countess, +not realizing to whom she was speaking. Her maternal instinct told her +that Natasha had too much of something, and that because of this she +would not be happy. Before Natasha had finished singing, +fourteen-year-old Petya rushed in delightedly, to say that some +mummers had arrived. + +Natasha stopped abruptly. + +"Idiot!" she screamed at her brother and, running to a chair, +threw herself on it, sobbing so violently that she could not stop +for a long time. + +"It's nothing, Mamma, really it's nothing; only Petya startled +me," she said, trying to smile, but her tears still flowed and sobs +still choked her. + +The mummers (some of the house serfs) dressed up as bears, Turks, +innkeepers, and ladies--frightening and funny--bringing in with them +the cold from outside and a feeling of gaiety, crowded, at first +timidly, into the anteroom, then hiding behind one another they pushed +into the ballroom where, shyly at first and then more and more merrily +and heartily, they started singing, dancing, and playing Christmas +games. The countess, when she had identified them and laughed at their +costumes, went into the drawing room. The count sat in the ballroom, +smiling radiantly and applauding the players. The young people had +disappeared. + +Half an hour later there appeared among the other mummers in the +ballroom an old lady in a hooped skirt--this was Nicholas. A Turkish +girl was Petya. A clown was Dimmler. An hussar was Natasha, and a +Circassian was Sonya with burnt-cork mustache and eyebrows. + +After the condescending surprise, nonrecognition, and praise, from +those who were not themselves dressed up, the young people decided +that their costumes were so good that they ought to be shown +elsewhere. + +Nicholas, who, as the roads were in splendid condition, wanted to +take them all for a drive in his troyka, proposed to take with them +about a dozen of the serf mummers and drive to "Uncle's." + +"No, why disturb the old fellow?" said the countess. "Besides, you +wouldn't have room to turn round there. If you must go, go to the +Melyukovs'." + +Melyukova was a widow, who, with her family and their tutors and +governesses, lived three miles from the Rostovs. + +"That's right, my dear," chimed in the old count, thoroughly +aroused. "I'll dress up at once and go with them. I'll make Pashette +open her eyes." + +But the countess would not agree to his going; he had had a bad +leg all these last days. It was decided that the count must not go, +but that if Louisa Ivanovna (Madame Schoss) would go with them, the +young ladies might go to the Melyukovs', Sonya, generally so timid and +shy, more urgently than anyone begging Louisa Ivanovna not to refuse. + +Sonya's costume was the best of all. Her mustache and eyebrows +were extraordinarily becoming. Everyone told her she looked very +handsome, and she was in a spirited and energetic mood unusual with +her. Some inner voice told her that now or never her fate would be +decided, and in her male attire she seemed quite a different person. +Louisa Ivanovna consented to go, and in half an hour four troyka +sleighs with large and small bells, their runners squeaking and +whistling over the frozen snow, drove up to the porch. + +Natasha was foremost in setting a merry holiday tone, which, passing +from one to another, grew stronger and reached its climax +when they all came out into the frost and got into the sleighs, +talking, calling to one another, laughing, and shouting. + +Two of the troykas were the usual household sleighs, the third was +the old count's with a trotter from the Orlov stud as shaft horse, the +fourth was Nicholas' own with a short shaggy black shaft horse. +Nicholas, in his old lady's dress over which he had belted his +hussar overcoat, stood in the middle of the sleigh, reins in hand. + +It was so light that he could see the moonlight reflected from the +metal harness disks and from the eyes of the horses, who looked +round in alarm at the noisy party under the shadow of the porch roof. + +Natasha, Sonya, Madame Schoss, and two maids got into Nicholas' +sleigh; Dimmler, his wife, and Petya, into the old count's, and the +rest of the mummers seated themselves in the other two sleighs. + +"You go ahead, Zakhar!" shouted Nicholas to his father's coachman, +wishing for a chance to race past him. + +The old count's troyka, with Dimmler and his party, started forward, +squeaking on its runners as though freezing to the snow, its +deep-toned bell clanging. The side horses, pressing against the shafts +of the middle horse, sank in the snow, which was dry and glittered +like sugar, and threw it up. + +Nicholas set off, following the first sleigh; behind him the +others moved noisily, their runners squeaking. At first they drove +at a steady trot along the narrow road. While they drove past the +garden the shadows of the bare trees often fell across the road and +hid the brilliant moonlight, but as soon as they were past the +fence, the snowy plain bathed in moonlight and motionless spread out +before them glittering like diamonds and dappled with bluish +shadows. Bang, bang! went the first sleigh over a cradle hole in the +snow of the road, and each of the other sleighs jolted in the same +way, and rudely breaking the frost-bound stillness, the troykas +began to speed along the road, one after the other. + +"A hare's track, a lot of tracks!" rang out Natasha's voice +through the frost-bound air. + +"How light it is, Nicholas!" came Sonya's voice. + +Nicholas glanced round at Sonya, and bent down to see her face +closer. Quite a new, sweet face with black eyebrows and mustaches +peeped up at him from her sable furs--so close and yet so distant- +in the moonlight. + +"That used to be Sonya," thought he, and looked at her closer and +smiled. + +"What is it, Nicholas?" + +"Nothing," said he and turned again to the horses. + +When they came out onto the beaten highroad--polished by sleigh +runners and cut up by rough-shod hoofs, the marks of which were +visible in the moonlight--the horses began to tug at the reins of +their own accord and increased their pace. The near side horse, +arching his head and breaking into a short canter, tugged at his +traces. The shaft horse swayed from side to side, moving his ears as +if asking: "Isn't it time to begin now?" In front, already far ahead +the deep bell of the sleigh ringing farther and farther off, the black +horses driven by Zakhar could be clearly seen against the white +snow. From that sleigh one could hear the shouts, laughter, and voices +of the mummers. + +"Gee up, my darlings!" shouted Nicholas, pulling the reins to one +side and flourishing the whip. + +It was only by the keener wind that met them and the jerks given +by the side horses who pulled harder--ever increasing their gallop- +that one noticed how fast the troyka was flying. Nicholas looked back. +With screams squeals, and waving of whips that caused even the shaft +horses to gallop--the other sleighs followed. The shaft horse swung +steadily beneath the bow over its head, with no thought of +slackening pace and ready to put on speed when required. + +Nicholas overtook the first sleigh. They were driving downhill and +coming out upon a broad trodden track across a meadow, near a river. + +"Where are we?" thought he. "It's the Kosoy meadow, I suppose. But +no--this is something new I've never seen before. This isn't the Kosoy +meadow nor the Demkin hill, and heaven only knows what it is! It is +something new and enchanted. Well, whatever it may be..." And shouting +to his horses, he began to pass the first sleigh. + +Zakhar held back his horses and turned his face, which was already +covered with hoarfrost to his eyebrows. + +Nicholas gave the horses the rein, and Zakhar, stretching out his +arms, clucked his tongue and let his horses go. + +"Now, look out, master!" he cried. + +Faster still the two troykas flew side by side, and faster moved the +feet of the galloping side horses. Nicholas began to draw ahead. +Zakhar, while still keeping his arms extended, raised one hand with +the reins. + +"No you won't, master!" he shouted. + +Nicholas put all his horses to a gallop and passed Zakhar. The +horses showered the fine dry snow on the faces of those in the sleigh- +beside them sounded quick ringing bells and they caught confused +glimpses of swiftly moving legs and the shadows of the troyka they +were passing. The whistling sound of the runners on the snow and the +voices of girls shrieking were heard from different sides. + +Again checking his horses, Nicholas looked around him. They were +still surrounded by the magic plain bathed in moonlight and spangled +with stars. + +"Zakhar is shouting that I should turn to the left, but why to the +left?" thought Nicholas. "Are we getting to the Melyukovs'? Is this +Melyukovka? Heaven only knows where we are going, and heaven knows +what is happening to us--but it is very strange and pleasant +whatever it is." And he looked round in the sleigh. + +"Look, his mustache and eyelashes are all white!" said one of the +strange, pretty, unfamiliar people--the one with fine eyebrows and +mustache. + +"I think this used to be Natasha," thought Nicholas, "and that was +Madame Schoss, but perhaps it's not, and this Circassian with the +mustache I don't know, but I love her." + +"Aren't you cold?" he asked. + +They did not answer but began to laugh. Dimmler from the sleigh +behind shouted something--probably something funny--but they could not +make out what he said. + +"Yes, yes!" some voices answered, laughing. + +"But here was a fairy forest with black moving shadows, and a +glitter of diamonds and a flight of marble steps and the silver +roofs of fairy buildings and the shrill yells of some animals. And +if this is really Melyukovka, it is still stranger that we drove +heaven knows where and have come to Melyukovka," thought Nicholas. + +It really was Melyukovka, and maids and footmen with merry faces +came running, out to the porch carrying candles. + +"Who is it?" asked someone in the porch. + +"The mummers from the count's. I know by the horses," replied some +voices. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Pelageya Danilovna Melyukova, a broadly built, energetic woman +wearing spectacles, sat in the drawing room in a loose dress, +surrounded by her daughters whom she was trying to keep from feeling +dull. They were quietly dropping melted wax into snow and looking at +the shadows the wax figures would throw on the wall, when they heard +the steps and voices of new arrivals in the vestibule. + +Hussars, ladies, witches, clowns, and bears, after clearing their +throats and wiping the hoarfrost from their faces in the vestibule, +came into the ballroom where candles were hurriedly lighted. The +clown--Dimmler--and the lady--Nicholas--started a dance. Surrounded by +the screaming children the mummers, covering their faces and +disguising their voices, bowed to their hostess and arranged +themselves about the room. + +"Dear me! there's no recognizing them! And Natasha! See whom she +looks like! She really reminds me of somebody. But Herr Dimmler--isn't +he good! I didn't know him! And how he dances. Dear me, there's a +Circassian. Really, how becoming it is to dear Sonya. And who is that? +Well, you have cheered us up! Nikita and Vanya--clear away the tables! +And we were sitting so quietly. Ha, ha, ha!... The hussar, the hussar! +Just like a boy! And the legs!... I can't look at him..." different +voices were saying. + +Natasha, the young Melyukovs' favorite, disappeared with them into +the back rooms where a cork and various dressing gowns and male +garments were called for and received from the footman by bare girlish +arms from behind the door. Ten minutes later, all the young +Melyukovs joined the mummers. + +Pelageya Danilovna, having given orders to clear the rooms for the +visitors and arranged about refreshments for the gentry and the serfs, +went about among the mummers without removing her spectacles, +peering into their faces with a suppressed smile and failing to +recognize any of them. It was not merely Dimmler and the Rostovs she +failed to recognize, she did not even recognize her own daughters, +or her late husband's, dressing gowns and uniforms, which they had put +on. + +"And who is is this?" she asked her governess, peering into the face +of her own daughter dressed up as a Kazan-Tartar. "I suppose it is one +of the Rostovs! Well, Mr. Hussar, and what regiment do you serve +in?" she asked Natasha. "Here, hand some fruit jelly to the Turk!" she +ordered the butler who was handing things round. "That's not forbidden +by his law." + +Sometimes, as she looked at the strange but amusing capers cut by +the dancers, who--having decided once for all that being disguised, no +one would recognize them--were not at all shy, Pelageya Danilovna +hid her face in her handkerchief, and her whole stout body shook +with irrepressible, kindly, elderly laughter. + +"My little Sasha! Look at Sasha!" she said. + +After Russian country dances and chorus dances, Pelageya Danilovna +made the serfs and gentry join in one large circle: a ring, a +string, and a silver ruble were fetched and they all played games +together. + +In an hour, all the costumes were crumpled and disordered. The +corked eyebrows and mustaches were smeared over the perspiring, +flushed, and merry faces. Pelageya Danilovna began to recognize the +mummers, admired their cleverly contrived costumes, and particularly +how they suited the young ladies, and she thanked them all for +having entertained her so well. The visitors were invited to supper in +the drawing room, and the serfs had something served to them in the +ballroom. + +"Now to tell one's fortune in the empty bathhouse is frightening!" +said an old maid who lived with the Melyukovs, during supper. + +"Why?" said the eldest Melyukov girl. + +"You wouldn't go, it takes courage..." + +"I'll go," said Sonya. + +"Tell what happened to the young lady!" said the second Melyukov +girl. + +"Well," began the old maid, "a young lady once went out, took a +cock, laid the table for two, all properly, and sat down. After +sitting a while, she suddenly hears someone coming... a sleigh +drives up with harness bells; she hears him coming! He comes in, +just in the shape of a man, like an officer--comes in and sits down to +table with her." + +"Ah! ah!" screamed Natasha, rolling her eyes with horror. + +"Yes? And how... did he speak?" + +"Yes, like a man. Everything quite all right, and he began +persuading her; and she should have kept him talking till cockcrow, +but she got frightened, just got frightened and hid her face in her +hands. Then he caught her up. It was lucky the maids ran in just +then..." + +"Now, why frighten them?" said Pelageya Danilovna. + +"Mamma, you used to try your fate yourself..." said her daughter. + +"And how does one do it in a barn?" inquired Sonya. + +"Well, say you went to the barn now, and listened. It depends on +what you hear; hammering and knocking--that's bad; but a sound of +shifting grain is good and one sometimes hears that, too." + +"Mamma, tell us what happened to you in the barn." + +Pelageya Danilovna smiled. + +"Oh, I've forgotten..." she replied. "But none of you would go?" + +"Yes, I will; Pelageya Danilovna, let me! I'll go," said Sonya. + +"Well, why not, if you're not afraid?" + +"Louisa Ivanovna, may I?" asked Sonya. + +Whether they were playing the ring and string game or the ruble game +or talking as now, Nicholas did not leave Sonya's side, and gazed at +her with quite new eyes. It seemed to him that it was only today, +thanks to that burnt-cork mustache, that he had fully learned to +know her. And really, that evening, Sonya was brighter, more animated, +and prettier than Nicholas had ever seen her before. + +"So that's what she is like; what a fool I have been!" he thought +gazing at her sparkling eyes, and under the mustache a happy rapturous +smile dimpled her cheeks, a smile he had never seen before. + +"I'm not afraid of anything," said Sonya. "May I go at once?" She +got up. + +They told her where the barn was and how she should stand and +listen, and they handed her a fur cloak. She threw this over her +head and shoulders and glanced at Nicholas. + +"What a darling that girl is!" thought he. "And what have I been +thinking of till now?" + +Sonya went out into the passage to go to the barn. Nicholas went +hastily to the front porch, saying he felt too hot. The crowd of +people really had made the house stuffy. + +Outside, there was the same cold stillness and the same moon, but +even brighter than before. The light was so strong and the snow +sparkled with so many stars that one did not wish to look up at the +sky and the real stars were unnoticed. The sky was black and dreary, +while the earth was gay. + +"I am a fool, a fool! what have I been waiting for?" thought +Nicholas, and running out from the porch he went round the corner of +the house and along the path that led to the back porch. He knew Sonya +would pass that way. Halfway lay some snow-covered piles of firewood +and across and along them a network of shadows from the bare old +lime trees fell on the snow and on the path. This path led to the +barn. The log walls of the barn and its snow-covered roof, that looked +as if hewn out of some precious stone, sparkled in the moonlight. A +tree in the garden snapped with the frost, and then all was again +perfectly silent. His bosom seemed to inhale not air but the +strength of eternal youth and gladness. + +From the back porch came the sound of feet descending the steps, the +bottom step upon which snow had fallen gave a ringing creak and he +heard the voice of an old maidservant saying, "Straight, straight, +along the path, Miss. Only, don't look back." + +"I am not afraid," answered Sonya's voice, and along the path toward +Nicholas came the crunching, whistling sound of Sonya's feet in her +thin shoes. + +Sonya came along, wrapped in her cloak. She was only a couple of +paces away when she saw him, and to her too he was not the Nicholas +she had known and always slightly feared. He was in a woman's dress, +with tousled hair and a happy smile new to Sonya. She ran rapidly +toward him. + +"Quite different and yet the same," thought Nicholas, looking at her +face all lit up by the moonlight. He slipped his arms under the +cloak that covered her head, embraced her, pressed her to him, and +kissed her on the lips that wore a mustache and had a smell of burnt +cork. Sonya kissed him full on the lips, and disengaging her little +hands pressed them to his cheeks. + +"Sonya!... Nicholas!"... was all they said. They ran to the barn and +then back again, re-entering, he by the front and she by the back +porch. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +When they all drove back from Pelageya Danilovna's, Natasha, who +always saw and noticed everything, arranged that she and Madame Schoss +should go back in the sleigh with Dimmler, and Sonya with Nicholas and +the maids. + +On the way back Nicholas drove at a steady pace instead of racing +and kept peering by that fantastic all-transforming light into Sonya's +face and searching beneath the eyebrows and mustache for his former +and his present Sonya from whom he had resolved never to be parted +again. He looked and recognizing in her both the old and the new +Sonya, and being reminded by the smell of burnt cork of the +sensation of her kiss, inhaled the frosty air with a full breast +and, looking at the ground flying beneath him and at the sparkling +sky, felt himself again in fairyland. + +"Sonya, is it well with thee?" he asked from time to time. + +"Yes!" she replied. "And with thee?" + +When halfway home Nicholas handed the reins to the coachman and +ran for a moment to Natasha's sleigh and stood on its wing. + +"Natasha!" he whispered in French, "do you know I have made up my +mind about Sonya?" + +"Have you told her?" asked Natasha, suddenly beaming all over with +joy. + +"Oh, how strange you are with that mustache and those eyebrows!... +Natasha--are you glad?" + +"I am so glad, so glad! I was beginning to be vexed with you. I +did not tell you, but you have been treating her badly. What a heart +she has, Nicholas! I am horrid sometimes, but I was ashamed to be +happy while Sonya was not," continued Natasha. "Now I am so glad! +Well, run back to her." + +"No, wait a bit.... Oh, how funny you look!" cried Nicholas, peering +into her face and finding in his sister too something new, unusual, +and bewitchingly tender that he had not seen in her before. +"Natasha, it's magical, isn't it?" + +"Yes," she replied. "You have done splendidly." + +"Had I seen her before as she is now," thought Nicholas, "I should +long ago have asked her what to do and have done whatever she told me, +and all would have been well." + +"So you are glad and I have done right?" + +"Oh, quite right! I had a quarrel with Mamma some time ago about it. +Mamma said she was angling for you. How could she say such a thing! +I nearly stormed at Mamma. I will never let anyone say anything bad of +Sonya, for there is nothing but good in her." + +"Then it's all right?" said Nicholas, again scrutinizing the +expression of his sister's face to see if she was in earnest. Then +he jumped down and, his boots scrunching the snow, ran back to his +sleigh. The same happy, smiling Circassian, with mustache and +beaming eyes looking up from under a sable hood, was still sitting +there, and that Circassian was Sonya, and that Sonya was certainly his +future happy and loving wife. + +When they reached home and had told their mother how they had +spent the evening at the Melyukovs', the girls went to their +bedroom. When they had undressed, but without washing off the cork +mustaches, they sat a long time talking of their happiness. They +talked of how they would live when they were married, how their +husbands would be friends, and how happy they would be. On Natasha's +table stood two looking glasses which Dunyasha had prepared +beforehand. + +"Only when will all that be? I am afraid never.... It would be too +good!" said Natasha, rising and going to the looking glasses. + +"Sit down, Natasha; perhaps you'll see him," said Sonya. + +Natasha lit the candles, one on each side of one of the looking +glasses, and sat down. + +"I see someone with a mustache," said Natasha, seeing her own face. + +"You mustn't laugh, Miss," said Dunyasha. + +With Sonya's help and the maid's, Natasha got the glass she held +into the right position opposite the other; her face assumed a serious +expression and she sat silent. She sat a long time looking at the +receding line of candles reflected in the glasses and expecting +(from tales she had heard) to see a coffin, or him, Prince Andrew, +in that last dim, indistinctly outlined square. But ready as she was +to take the smallest speck for the image of a man or of a coffin, +she saw nothing. She began blinking rapidly and moved away from the +looking glasses. + +"Why is it others see things and I don't?" she said. "You sit down +now, Sonya. You absolutely must, tonight! Do it for me.... Today I +feel so frightened!" + +Sonya sat down before the glasses, got the right position, and began +looking. + +"Now, Miss Sonya is sure to see something," whispered Dunyasha; +"while you do nothing but laugh." + +Sonya heard this and Natasha's whisper: + +"I know she will. She saw something last year." + +For about three minutes all were silent. + +"Of course she will!" whispered Natasha, but did not finish... +suddenly Sonya pushed away the glass she was holding and covered her +eyes with her hand. + +"Oh, Natasha!" she cried. + +"Did you see? Did you? What was it?" exclaimed Natasha, holding up +the looking glass. + +Sonya had not seen anything, she was just wanting to blink and to +get up when she heard Natasha say, "Of course she will!" She did not +wish to disappoint either Dunyasha or Natasha, but it was hard to +sit still. She did not herself know how or why the exclamation escaped +her when she covered her eyes. + +"You saw him?" urged Natasha, seizing her hand. + +"Yes. Wait a bit... I... saw him," Sonya could not help saying, +not yet knowing whom Natasha meant by him, Nicholas or Prince Andrew. + +"But why shouldn't I say I saw something? Others do see! Besides who +can tell whether I saw anything or not?" flashed through Sonya's mind. + +"Yes, I saw him," she said. + +"How? Standing or lying?" + +"No, I saw... At first there was nothing, then I saw him lying +down." + +"Andrew lying? Is he ill?" asked Natasha, her frightened eyes +fixed on her friend. + +"No, on the contrary, on the contrary! His face was cheerful, and he +turned to me." And when saying this she herself fancied she had really +seen what she described. + +"Well, and then, Sonya?..." + +"After that, I could not make out what there was; something blue and +red..." + +"Sonya! When will he come back? When shall I see him! O, God, how +afraid I am for him and for myself and about everything!..." Natasha +began, and without replying to Sonya's words of comfort she got into +bed, and long after her candle was out lay open-eyed and motionless, +gazing at the moonlight through the frosty windowpanes. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Soon after the Christmas holidays Nicholas told his mother of his +love for Sonya and of his firm resolve to marry her. The countess, who +had long noticed what was going on between them and was expecting this +declaration, listened to him in silence and then told her son that +he might marry whom he pleased, but that neither she nor his father +would give their blessing to such a marriage. Nicholas, for the +first time, felt that his mother was displeased with him and that, +despite her love for him, she would not give way. Coldly, without +looking at her son, she sent for her husband and, when he came, +tried briefly and coldly to inform him of the facts, in her son's +presence, but unable to restrain herself she burst into tears of +vexation and left the room. The old count began irresolutely to +admonish Nicholas and beg him to abandon his purpose. Nicholas replied +that he could not go back on his word, and his father, sighing and +evidently disconcerted, very soon became silent and went in to the +countess. In all his encounters with his son, the count was always +conscious of his own guilt toward him for having wasted the family +fortune, and so he could not be angry with him for refusing to marry +an heiress and choosing the dowerless Sonya. On this occasion, he +was only more vividly conscious of the fact that if his affairs had +not been in disorder, no better wife for Nicholas than Sonya could +have been wished for, and that no one but himself with his Mitenka and +his uncomfortable habits was to blame for the condition of the +family finances. + +The father and mother did not speak of the matter to their son +again, but a few days later the countess sent for Sonya and, with a +cruelty neither of them expected, reproached her niece for trying to +catch Nicholas and for ingratitude. Sonya listened silently with +downcast eyes to the countess' cruel words, without understanding what +was required of her. She was ready to sacrifice everything for her +benefactors. Self-sacrifice was her most cherished idea but in this +case she could not see what she ought to sacrifice, or for whom. She +could not help loving the countess and the whole Rostov family, but +neither could she help loving Nicholas and knowing that his +happiness depended on that love. She was silent and sad and did not +reply. Nicholas felt the situation to be intolerable and went to +have an explanation with his mother. He first implored her to +forgive him and Sonya and consent to their marriage, then he +threatened that if she molested Sonya he would at once marry her +secretly. + +The countess, with a coldness her son had never seen in her +before, replied that he was of age, that Prince Andrew was marrying +without his father's consent, and he could do the same, but that she +would never receive that intriguer as her daughter. + +Exploding at the word intriguer, Nicholas, raising his voice, told +his mother he had never expected her to try to force him to sell his +feelings, but if that were so, he would say for the last time.... +But he had no time to utter the decisive word which the expression +of his face caused his mother to await with terror, and which would +perhaps have forever remained a cruel memory to them both. He had +not time to say it, for Natasha, with a pale and set face, entered the +room from the door at which she had been listening. + +"Nicholas, you are talking nonsense! Be quiet, be quiet, be quiet, I +tell you!..." she almost screamed, so as to drown his voice. + +"Mamma darling, it's not at all so... my poor, sweet darling," she +said to her mother, who conscious that they had been on the brink of a +rupture gazed at her son with terror, but in the obstinacy and +excitement of the conflict could not and would not give way. + +"Nicholas, I'll explain to you. Go away! Listen, Mamma darling," +said Natasha. + +Her words were incoherent, but they attained the purpose at which +she was aiming. + +The countess, sobbing heavily, hid her face on her daughter's +breast, while Nicholas rose, clutching his head, and left the room. + +Natasha set to work to effect a reconciliation, and so far succeeded +that Nicholas received a promise from his mother that Sonya should not +be troubled, while he on his side promised not to undertake anything +without his parents' knowledge. + +Firmly resolved, after putting his affairs in order in the regiment, +to retire from the army and return and marry Sonya, Nicholas, serious, +sorrowful, and at variance with his parents, but, as it seemed to him, +passionately in love, left at the beginning of January to rejoin his +regiment. + +After Nicholas had gone things in the Rostov household were more +depressing than ever, and the countess fell ill from mental agitation. + +Sonya was unhappy at the separation from Nicholas and still more +so on account of the hostile tone the countess could not help adopting +toward her. The count was more perturbed than ever by the condition of +his affairs, which called for some decisive action. Their town house +and estate near Moscow had inevitably to be sold, and for this they +had to go to Moscow. But the countess' health obliged them to delay +their departure from day to day. + +Natasha, who had borne the first period of separation from her +betrothed lightly and even cheerfully, now grew more agitated and +impatient every day. The thought that her best days, which she would +have employed in loving him, were being vainly wasted, with no +advantage to anyone, tormented her incessantly. His letters for the +most part irritated her. It hurt her to think that while she lived +only in the thought of him, he was living a real life, seeing new +places and new people that interested him. The more interesting his +letters were the more vexed she felt. Her letters to him, far from +giving her any comfort, seemed to her a wearisome and artificial +obligation. She could not write, because she could not conceive the +possibility of expressing sincerely in a letter even a thousandth part +of what she expressed by voice, smile, and glance. She wrote to him +formal, monotonous, and dry letters, to which she attached no +importance herself, and in the rough copies of which the countess +corrected her mistakes in spelling. + +There was still no improvement in the countess' health, but it was +impossible to defer the journey to Moscow any longer. Natasha's +trousseau had to be ordered and the house sold. Moreover, Prince +Andrew was expected in Moscow, where old Prince Bolkonski was spending +the winter, and Natasha felt sure he had already arrived. + +So the countess remained in the country, and the count, taking Sonya +and Natasha with him, went to Moscow at the end of January. + + + + +BOOK EIGHT: 1811 --12 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +After Prince Andrews engagement to Natasha, Pierre without any +apparent cause suddenly felt it impossible to go on living as +before. Firmly convinced as he was of the truths revealed to him by +his benefactor, and happy as he had been in perfecting his inner +man, to which he had devoted himself with such ardor--all the zest +of such a life vanished after the engagement of Andrew and Natasha and +the death of Joseph Alexeevich, the news of which reached him almost +at the same time. Only the skeleton of life remained: his house, a +brilliant wife who now enjoyed the favors of a very important +personage, acquaintance with all Petersburg, and his court service +with its dull formalities. And this life suddenly seemed to Pierre +unexpectedly loathsome. He ceased keeping a diary, avoided the company +of the Brothers, began going to the Club again, drank a great deal, +and came once more in touch with the bachelor sets, leading such a +life that the Countess Helene thought it necessary to speak severely +to him about it. Pierre felt that she right, and to avoid compromising +her went away to Moscow. + +In Moscow as soon as he entered his huge house in which the faded +and fading princesses still lived, with its enormous retinue; as +soon as, driving through the town, he saw the Iberian shrine with +innumerable tapers burning before the golden covers of the icons, +the Kremlin Square with its snow undisturbed by vehicles, the sleigh +drivers and hovels of the Sivtsev Vrazhok, those old Moscovites who +desired nothing, hurried nowhere, and were ending their days +leisurely; when he saw those old Moscow ladies, the Moscow balls, +and the English Club, he felt himself at home in a quiet haven. In +Moscow he felt at peace, at home, warm and dirty as in an old dressing +gown. + +Moscow society, from the old women down to the children, received +Pierre like a long-expected guest whose place was always ready +awaiting him. For Moscow society Pierre was the nicest, kindest, +most intellectual, merriest, and most magnanimous of cranks, a +heedless, genial nobleman of the old Russian type. His purse was +always empty because it was open to everyone. + +Benefit performances, poor pictures, statues, benevolent +societies, gypsy choirs, schools, subscription dinners, sprees, +Freemasons, churches, and books--no one and nothing met with a refusal +from him, and had it not been for two friends who had borrowed large +sums from him and taken him under their protection, he would have +given everything away. There was never a dinner or soiree at the +Club without him. As soon as he sank into his place on the sofa +after two bottles of Margaux he was surrounded, and talking, +disputing, and joking began. When there were quarrels, his kindly +smile and well-timed jests reconciled the antagonists. The Masonic +dinners were dull and dreary when he was not there. + +When after a bachelor supper he rose with his amiable and kindly +smile, yielding to the entreaties of the festive company to drive +off somewhere with them, shouts of delight and triumph arose among the +young men. At balls he danced if a partner was needed. Young ladies, +married and unmarried, liked him because without making love to any of +them, he was equally amiable to all, especially after supper. "Il +est charmant; il n'a pas de sexe,"* they said of him. + + +*"He is charming; he has no sex." + + +Pierre was one of those retired gentlemen-in-waiting of whom there +were hundreds good-humoredly ending their days in Moscow. + +How horrified he would have been seven years before, when he first +arrived from abroad, had he been told that there was no need for him +to seek or plan anything, that his rut had long been shaped, eternally +predetermined, and that wriggle as he might, he would be what all in +his position were. He could not have believed it! Had he not at one +time longed with all his heart to establish a republic in Russia; then +himself to be a Napoleon; then to be a philosopher; and then a +strategist and the conqueror of Napoleon? Had he not seen the +possibility of, and passionately desired, the regeneration of the +sinful human race, and his own progress to the highest degree of +perfection? Had he not established schools and hospitals and liberated +his serfs? + +But instead of all that--here he was, the wealthy husband of an +unfaithful wife, a retired gentleman-in-waiting, fond of eating and +drinking and, as he unbuttoned his waistcoat, of abusing the +government a bit, a member of the Moscow English Club, and a universal +favorite in Moscow society. For a long time he could not reconcile +himself to the idea that he was one of those same retired Moscow +gentlemen-in-waiting he had so despised seven years before. + +Sometimes he consoled himself with the thought that he was only +living this life temporarily; but then he was shocked by the thought +of how many, like himself, had entered that life and that Club +temporarily, with all their teeth and hair, and had only left it +when not a single tooth or hair remained. + +In moments of pride, when he thought of his position it seemed to +him that he was quite different and distinct from those other +retired gentlemen-in-waiting he had formerly despised: they were +empty, stupid, contented fellows, satisfied with their position, +"while I am still discontented and want to do something for mankind. +But perhaps all these comrades of mine struggled just like me and +sought something new, a path in life of their own, and like me were +brought by force of circumstances, society, and race--by that +elemental force against which man is powerless--to the condition I +am in," said he to himself in moments of humility; and after living +some time in Moscow he no longer despised, but began to grow fond +of, to respect, and to pity his comrades in destiny, as he pitied +himself. + +Pierre longer suffered moments of despair, hypochondria, and disgust +with life, but the malady that had formerly found expression in such +acute attacks was driven inwards and never left him for a moment. +"What for? Why? What is going on in the world?" he would ask himself +in perplexity several times a day, involuntarily beginning to +reflect anew on the meaning of the phenomena of life; but knowing by +experience that there were no answers to these questions he made haste +to turn away from them, and took up a book, or hurried of to the +Club or to Apollon Nikolaevich's, to exchange the gossip of the town. + +"Helene, who has never cared for anything but her own body and is +one of the stupidest women in the world," thought Pierre, "is regarded +by people as the acme of intelligence and refinement, and they pay +homage to her. Napoleon Bonaparte was despised by all as long as he +was great, but now that he has become a wretched comedian the +Emperor Francis wants to offer him his daughter in an illegal +marriage. The Spaniards, through the Catholic clergy, offer praise +to God for their victory over the French on the fourteenth of June, +and the French, also through the Catholic clergy, offer praise because +on that same fourteenth of June they defeated the Spaniards. My +brother Masons swear by the blood that they are ready to sacrifice +everything for their neighbor, but they do not give a ruble each to +the collections for the poor, and they intrigue, the Astraea Lodge +against the Manna Seekers, and fuss about an authentic Scotch carpet +and a charter that nobody needs, and the meaning of which the very man +who wrote it does not understand. We all profess the Christian law +of forgiveness of injuries and love of our neighbors, the law in honor +of which we have built in Moscow forty times forty churches--but +yesterday a deserter was knouted to death and a minister of that +same law of love and forgiveness, a priest, gave the soldier a cross +to kiss before his execution." So thought Pierre, and the whole of +this general deception which everyone accepts, accustomed as he was to +it, astonished him each time as if it were something new. "I +understand the deception and confusion," he thought, "but how am I +to tell them all that I see? I have tried, and have always found +that they too in the depths of their souls understand it as I do, +and only try not to see it. So it appears that it must be so! But I- +what is to become of me?" thought he. He had the unfortunate +capacity many men, especially Russians, have of seeing and believing +in the possibility of goodness and truth, but of seeing the evil and +falsehood of life too clearly to be able to take a serious part in it. +Every sphere of work was connected, in his eyes, with evil and +deception. Whatever he tried to be, whatever he engaged in, the evil +and falsehood of it repulsed him and blocked every path of activity. +Yet he had to live and to find occupation. It was too dreadful to be +under the burden of these insoluble problems, so he abandoned +himself to any distraction in order to forget them. He frequented +every kind of society, drank much, bought pictures, engaged in +building, and above all--read. + +He read, and read everything that came to hand. On coming home, +while his valets were still taking off his things, he picked up a book +and began to read. From reading he passed to sleeping, from sleeping +to gossip in drawing rooms of the Club, from gossip to carousals and +women; from carousals back to gossip, reading, and wine. Drinking +became more and more a physical and also a moral necessity. Though the +doctors warned him that with his corpulence wine was dangerous for +him, he drank a great deal. He was only quite at ease when having +poured several glasses of wine mechanically into his large mouth he +felt a pleasant warmth in his body, an amiability toward all his +fellows, and a readiness to respond superficially to every idea +without probing it deeply. Only after emptying a bottle or two did +he feel dimly that the terribly tangled skein of life which previously +had terrified him was not as dreadful as he had thought. He was always +conscious of some aspect of that skein, as with a buzzing in his +head after dinner or supper he chatted or listened to conversation +or read. But under the influence of wine he said to himself: "It +doesn't matter. I'll get it unraveled. I have a solution ready, but +have no time now--I'll think it all out later on!" But the later on +never came. + +In the morning, on an empty stomach, all the old questions +appeared as insoluble and terrible as ever, and Pierre hastily +picked up a book, and if anyone came to see him he was glad. + +Sometimes he remembered how he had heard that soldiers in war when +entrenched under the enemy's fire, if they have nothing to do, try +hard to find some occupation the more easily to bear the danger. To +Pierre all men seemed like those soldiers, seeking refuge from life: +some in ambition, some in cards, some in framing laws, some in +women, some in toys, some in horses, some in politics, some in +sport, some in wine, and some in governmental affairs. "Nothing is +trivial, and nothing is important, it's all the same--only to save +oneself from it as best one can," thought Pierre. "Only not to see it, +that dreadful it!" + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +At the beginning of winter Prince Nicholas Bolkonski and his +daughter moved to Moscow. At that time enthusiasm for the Emperor +Alexander's regime had weakened and a patriotic and anti-French +tendency prevailed there, and this, together with his past and his +intellect and his originality, at once made Prince Nicholas +Bolkonski an object of particular respect to the Moscovites and the +center of the Moscow opposition to the government. + +The prince had aged very much that year. He showed marked signs of +senility by a tendency to fall asleep, forgetfulness of quite recent +events, remembrance of remote ones, and the childish vanity with which +he accepted the role of head of the Moscow opposition. In spite of +this the old man inspired in all his visitors alike a feeling of +respectful veneration--especially of an evening when he came in to tea +in his old-fashioned coat and powdered wig and, aroused by anyone, +told his abrupt stories of the past, or uttered yet more abrupt and +scathing criticisms of the present. For them all, that old-fashioned +house with its gigantic mirrors, pre-Revolution furniture, powdered +footmen, and the stern shrewd old man (himself a relic of the past +century) with his gentle daughter and the pretty Frenchwoman who +were reverently devoted to him presented a majestic and agreeable +spectacle. But the visitors did not reflect that besides the couple of +hours during which they saw their host, there were also twenty-two +hours in the day during which the private and intimate life of the +house continued. + +Latterly that private life had become very trying for Princess Mary. +There in Moscow she was deprived of her greatest pleasures--talks with +the pilgrims and the solitude which refreshed her at Bald Hills--and +she had none of the advantages and pleasures of city life. She did not +go out into society; everyone knew that her father would not let her +go anywhere without him, and his failing health prevented his going +out himself, so that she was not invited to dinners and evening +parties. She had quite abandoned the hope of getting married. She +saw the coldness and malevolence with which the old prince received +and dismissed the young men, possible suitors, who sometimes +appeared at their house. She had no friends: during this visit to +Moscow she had been disappointed in the two who had been nearest to +her. Mademoiselle Bourienne, with whom she had never been able to be +quite frank, had now become unpleasant to her, and for various reasons +Princess Mary avoided her. Julie, with whom she had corresponded for +the last five years, was in Moscow, but proved to be quite alien to +her when they met. Just then Julie, who by the death of her brothers +had become one of the richest heiresses in Moscow, was in the full +whirl of society pleasures. She was surrounded by young men who, she +fancied, had suddenly learned to appreciate her worth. Julie was at +that stage in the life of a society woman when she feels that her last +chance of marrying has come and that her fate must be decided now or +never. On Thursdays Princess Mary remembered with a mournful smile +that she now had no one to write to, since Julie--whose presence +gave her no pleasure was here and they met every week. Like the old +emigre who declined to marry the lady with whom he had spent his +evenings for years, she regretted Julie's presence and having no one +to write to. In Moscow Princess Mary had no one to talk to, no one +to whom to confide her sorrow, and much sorrow fell to her lot just +then. The time for Prince Andrew's return and marriage was +approaching, but his request to her to prepare his father for it had +not been carried out; in fact, it seemed as if matters were quite +hopeless, for at every mention of the young Countess Rostova the old +prince (who apart from that was usually in a bad temper) lost +control of himself. Another lately added sorrow arose from the lessons +she gave her six year-old nephew. To her consternation she detected in +herself in relation to little Nicholas some symptoms of her father's +irritability. However often she told herself that she must not get +irritable when teaching her nephew, almost every time that, pointer in +hand, she sat down to show him the French alphabet, she so longed to +pour her own knowledge quickly and easily into the child--who was +already afraid that Auntie might at any moment get angry--that at +his slightest inattention she trembled, became flustered and heated, +raised her voice, and sometimes pulled him by the arm and put him in +the corner. Having put him in the corner she would herself begin to +cry over her cruel, evil nature, and little Nicholas, following her +example, would sob, and without permission would leave his corner, +come to her, pull her wet hands from her face, and comfort her. But +what distressed the princess most of all was her father's +irritability, which was always directed against her and had of late +amounted to cruelty. Had he forced her to prostrate herself to the +ground all night, had he beaten her or made her fetch wood or water, +it would never have entered her mind to think her position hard; but +this loving despot--the more cruel because he loved her and for that +reason tormented himself and her--knew how not merely to hurt and +humiliate her deliberately, but to show her that she was always to +blame for everything. Of late he had exhibited a new trait that +tormented Princess Mary more than anything else; this was his +ever-increasing intimacy with Mademoiselle Bourienne. The idea that at +the first moment of receiving the news of his son's intentions had +occurred to him in jest--that if Andrew got married he himself would +marry Bourienne--had evidently pleased him, and latterly he had +persistently, and as it seemed to Princess Mary merely to offend +her, shown special endearments to the companion and expressed his +dissatisfaction with his daughter by demonstrations of love of +Bourienne. + +One day in Moscow in Princess Mary's presence (she thought her +father did it purposely when she was there) the old prince kissed +Mademoiselle Bourienne's hand and, drawing her to him, embraced her +affectionately. Princess Mary flushed and ran out of the room. A few +minutes later Mademoiselle Bourienne came into Princess Mary's room +smiling and making cheerful remarks in her agreeable voice. Princess +Mary hastily wiped away her tears, went resolutely up to +Mademoiselle Bourienne, and evidently unconscious of what she was +doing began shouting in angry haste at the Frenchwoman, her voice +breaking: "It's horrible, vile, inhuman, to take advantage of the +weakness..." She did not finish. "Leave my room," she exclaimed, and +burst into sobs. + +Next day the prince did not say a word to his daughter, but she +noticed that at dinner he gave orders that Mademoiselle Bourienne +should be served first. After dinner, when the footman handed coffee +and from habit began with the princess, the prince suddenly grew +furious, threw his stick at Philip, and instantly gave instructions to +have him conscripted for the army. + +"He doesn't obey... I said it twice... and he doesn't obey! She is +the first person in this house; she's my best friend," cried the +prince. "And if you allow yourself," he screamed in a fury, addressing +Princess Mary for the first time, "to forget yourself again before her +as you dared to do yesterday, I will show you who is master in this +house. Go! Don't let me set eyes on you; beg her pardon!" + +Princess Mary asked Mademoiselle Bourienne's pardon, and also her +father's pardon for herself and for Philip the footman, who had begged +for her intervention. + +At such moments something like a pride of sacrifice gathered in +her soul. And suddenly that father whom she had judged would look +for his spectacles in her presence, fumbling near them and not +seeing them, or would forget something that had just occurred, or take +a false step with his failing legs and turn to see if anyone had +noticed his feebleness, or, worst of all, at dinner when there were no +visitors to excite him would suddenly fall asleep, letting his +napkin drop and his shaking head sink over his plate. "He is old and +feeble, and I dare to condemn him!" she thought at such moments, +with a feeling of revulsion against herself. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +In 1811 there was living in Moscow a French doctor--Metivier--who +had rapidly become the fashion. He was enormously tall, handsome, +amiable as Frenchmen are, and was, as all Moscow said, an +extraordinarily clever doctor. He was received in the best houses +not merely as a doctor, but as an equal. + +Prince Nicholas had always ridiculed medicine, but latterly on +Mademoiselle Bourienne's advice had allowed this doctor to visit him +and had grown accustomed to him. Metivier came to see the prince about +twice a week. + +On December 6--St. Nicholas' Day and the prince's name day--all +Moscow came to the prince's front door but he gave orders to admit +no one and to invite to dinner only a small number, a list of whom +he gave to Princess Mary. + +Metivier, who came in the morning with his felicitations, considered +it proper in his quality of doctor de forcer la consigne,* as he +told Princess Mary, and went in to see the prince. It happened that on +that morning of his name day the prince was in one of his worst moods. +He had been going about the house all the morning finding fault with +everyone and pretending not to understand what was said to him and not +to be understood himself. Princess Mary well knew this mood of quiet +absorbed querulousness, which generally culminated in a burst of rage, +and she went about all that morning as though facing a cocked and +loaded gun and awaited the inevitable explosion. Until the doctor's +arrival the morning had passed off safely. After admitting the doctor, +Princess Mary sat down with a book in the drawing room near the door +through which she could hear all that passed in the study. + + +*To force the guard. + + +At first she heard only Metivier's voice, then her father's, then +both voices began speaking at the same time, the door was flung +open, and on the threshold appeared the handsome figure of the +terrified Metivier with his shock of black hair, and the prince in his +dressing gown and fez, his face distorted with fury and the pupils +of his eyes rolled downwards. + +"You don't understand?" shouted the prince, "but I do! French spy, +slave of Buonaparte, spy, get out of my house! Be off, I tell you..." + +Metivier, shrugging his shoulders, went up to Mademoiselle Bourienne +who at the sound of shouting had run in from an adjoining room. + +"The prince is not very well: bile and rush of blood to the head. +Keep calm, I will call again tomorrow," said Metivier; and putting his +fingers to his lips he hastened away. + +Through the study door came the sound of slippered feet and the cry: +"Spies, traitors, traitors everywhere! Not a moment's peace in my +own house!" + +After Metivier's departure the old prince called his daughter in, +and the whole weight of his wrath fell on her. She was to blame that a +spy had been admitted. Had he not told her, yes, told her to make a +list, and not to admit anyone who was not on that list? Then why was +that scoundrel admitted? She was the cause of it all. With her, he +said, he could not have a moment's peace and could not die quietly. + +"No, ma'am! We must part, we must part! Understand that, +understand it! I cannot endure any more," he said, and left the +room. Then, as if afraid she might find some means of consolation, +he returned and trying to appear calm added: "And don't imagine I have +said this in a moment of anger. I am calm. I have thought it over, and +it will be carried out--we must part; so find some place for +yourself...." But he could not restrain himself and with the virulence +of which only one who loves is capable, evidently suffering himself, +he shook his fists at her and screamed: + +"If only some fool would marry her!" Then he slammed the door, +sent for Mademoiselle Bourienne, and subsided into his study. + +At two o'clock the six chosen guests assembled for dinner. + +These guests--the famous Count Rostopchin, Prince Lopukhin with +his nephew, General Chatrov an old war comrade of the prince's, and of +the younger generation Pierre and Boris Drubetskoy--awaited the prince +in the drawing room. + +Boris, who had come to Moscow on leave a few days before, had been +anxious to be presented to Prince Nicholas Bolkonski, and had +contrived to ingratiate himself so well that the old prince in his +case made an exception to the rule of not receiving bachelors in his +house. + +The prince's house did not belong to what is known as fashionable +society, but his little circle--though not much talked about in +town--was one it was more flattering to be received in than any other. +Boris had realized this the week before when the commander in chief in +his presence invited Rostopchin to dinner on St. Nicholas' Day, and +Rostopchin had replied that he could not come: + +"On that day I always go to pay my devotions to the relics of Prince +Nicholas Bolkonski." + +"Oh, yes, yes!" replied the commander in chief. "How is he?..." + +The small group that assembled before dinner in the lofty +old-fashioned drawing room with its old furniture resembled the solemn +gathering of a court of justice. All were silent or talked in low +tones. Prince Nicholas came in serious and taciturn. Princess Mary +seemed even quieter and more diffident than usual. The guests were +reluctant to address her, feeling that she was in no mood for their +conversation. Count Rostopchin alone kept the conversation going, +now relating the latest town news, and now the latest political +gossip. + +Lopukhin and the old general occasionally took part in the +conversation. Prince Bolkonski listened as a presiding judge +receives a report, only now and then, silently or by a brief word, +showing that he took heed of what was being reported to him. The +tone of the conversation was such as indicated that no one approved of +what was being done in the political world. Incidents were related +evidently confirming the opinion that everything was going from bad to +worse, but whether telling a story or giving an opinion the speaker +always stopped, or was stopped, at the point beyond which his +criticism might touch the sovereign himself. + +At dinner the talk turned on the latest political news: Napoleon's +seizure of the Duke of Oldenburg's territory, and the Russian Note, +hostile to Napoleon, which had been sent to all the European courts. + +"Bonaparte treats Europe as a pirate does a captured vessel," said +Count Rostopchin, repeating a phrase he had uttered several times +before. "One only wonders at the long-suffering or blindness of the +crowned heads. Now the Pope's turn has come and Bonaparte doesn't +scruple to depose the head of the Catholic Church--yet all keep +silent! Our sovereign alone has protested against the seizure of the +Duke of Oldenburg's territory, and even..." Count Rostopchin paused, +feeling that he had reached the limit beyond which censure was +impossible. + +"Other territories have been offered in exchange for the Duchy of +Oldenburg," said Prince Bolkonski. "He shifts the Dukes about as I +might move my serfs from Bald Hills to Bogucharovo or my Ryazan +estates." + +"The Duke of Oldenburg bears his misfortunes with admirable strength +of character and resignation," remarked Boris, joining in +respectfully. + +He said this because on his journey from Petersburg he had had the +honor of being presented to the Duke. Prince Bolkonski glanced at +the young man as if about to say something in reply, but changed his +mind, evidently considering him too young. + +"I have read our protests about the Oldenburg affair and was +surprised how badly the Note was worded," remarked Count Rostopchin in +the casual tone of a man dealing with a subject quite familiar to him. + +Pierre looked at Rostopchin with naive astonishment, not +understanding why he should be disturbed by the bad composition of the +Note. + +"Does it matter, Count, how the Note is worded," he asked, "so +long as its substance is forcible?" + +"My dear fellow, with our five hundred thousand troops it should +be easy to have a good style," returned Count Rostopchin. + +Pierre now understood the count's dissatisfaction with the wording +of the Note. + +"One would have thought quill drivers enough had sprung up," +remarked the old prince. "There in Petersburg they are always writing- +not notes only but even new laws. My Andrew there has written a +whole volume of laws for Russia. Nowadays they are always writing!" +and he laughed unnaturally. + +There was a momentary pause in the conversation; the old general +cleared his throat to draw attention. + +"Did you hear of the last event at the review in Petersburg? The +figure cut by the new French ambassador." + +"Eh? Yes, I heard something: he said something awkward in His +Majesty's presence." + +"His Majesty drew attention to the Grenadier division and to the +march past," continued the general, "and it seems the ambassador +took no notice and allowed himself to reply that: 'We in France pay no +attention to such trifles!' The Emperor did not condescend to reply. +At the next review, they say, the Emperor did not once deign to +address him." + +All were silent. On this fact relating to the Emperor personally, it +was impossible to pass any judgment. + +"Impudent fellows!" said the prince. "You know Metivier? I turned +him out of my house this morning. He was here; they admitted him spite +of my request that they should let no one in," he went on, glancing +angrily at his daughter. + +And he narrated his whole conversation with the French doctor and +the reasons that convinced him that Metivier was a spy. Though these +reasons were very insufficient and obscure, no one made any rejoinder. + +After the roast, champagne was served. The guests rose to +congratulate the old prince. Princess Mary, too, went round to him. + +He gave her a cold, angry look and offered her his wrinkled, +clean-shaven cheek to kiss. The whole expression of his face told +her that he had not forgotten the morning's talk, that his decision +remained in force, and only the presence of visitors hindered his +speaking of it to her now. + +When they went into the drawing room where coffee was served, the +old men sat together. + +Prince Nicholas grew more animated and expressed his views on the +impending war. + +He said that our wars with Bonaparte would be disastrous so long +as we sought alliances with the Germans and thrust ourselves into +European affairs, into which we had been drawn by the Peace of Tilsit. +"We ought not to fight either for or against Austria. Our political +interests are all in the East, and in regard to Bonaparte the only +thing is to have an armed frontier and a firm policy, and he will +never dare to cross the Russian frontier, as was the case in 1807!" + +"How can we fight the French, Prince?" said Count Rostopchin. "Can +we arm ourselves against our teachers and divinities? Look at our +youths, look at our ladies! The French are our Gods: Paris is our +Kingdom of Heaven." + +He began speaking louder, evidently to be heard by everyone. + +"French dresses, French ideas, French feelings! There now, you +turned Metivier out by the scruff of his neck because he is a +Frenchman and a scoundrel, but our ladies crawl after him on their +knees. I went to a party last night, and there out of five ladies +three were Roman Catholics and had the Pope's indulgence for doing +woolwork on Sundays. And they themselves sit there nearly naked, +like the signboards at our Public Baths if I may say so. Ah, when +one looks at our young people, Prince, one would like to take Peter +the Great's old cudgel out of the museum and belabor them in the +Russian way till all the nonsense jumps out of them." + +All were silent. The old prince looked at Rostopchin with a smile +and wagged his head approvingly. + +"Well, good-by, your excellency, keep well!" said Rostopchin, +getting up with characteristic briskness and holding out his hand to +the prince. + +"Good-by, my dear fellow.... His words are music, I never tire of +hearing him!" said the old prince, keeping hold of the hand and +offering his cheek to be kissed. + +Following Rostopchin's example the others also rose. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Princess Mary as she sat listening to the old men's talk and +faultfinding, understood nothing of what she heard; she only +wondered whether the guests had all observed her father's hostile +attitude toward her. She did not even notice the special attentions +and amiabilities shown her during dinner by Boris Drubetskoy, who +was visiting them for the third time already. + +Princess Mary turned with absent-minded questioning look to +Pierre, who hat in hand and with a smile on his face was the last of +the guests to approach her after the old prince had gone out and +they were left alone in the drawing room. + +"May I stay a little longer?" he said, letting his stout body sink +into an armchair beside her. + +"Oh yes," she answered. "You noticed nothing?" her look asked. + +Pierre was in an agreeable after-dinner mood. He looked straight +before him and smiled quietly. + +"Have you known that young man long, Princess?" he asked. + +"Who?" + +"Drubetskoy." + +"No, not long..." + +"Do you like him?" + +"Yes, he is an agreeable young man.... Why do you ask me that?" said +Princess Mary, still thinking of that morning's conversation with +her father. + +"Because I have noticed that when a young man comes on leave from +Petersburg to Moscow it is usually with the object of marrying an +heiress." + +"You have observed that?" said Princess Mary. + +"Yes," returned Pierre with a smile, "and this young man now manages +matters so that where there is a wealthy heiress there he is too. I +can read him like a book. At present he is hesitating whom to lay +siege to--you or Mademoiselle Julie Karagina. He is very attentive +to her." + +"He visits them?" + +"Yes, very often. And do you know the new way of courting?" said +Pierre with an amused smile, evidently in that cheerful mood of good +humored raillery for which he so often reproached himself in his +diary. + +"No," replied Princess Mary. + +"To please Moscow girls nowadays one has to be melancholy. He is +very melancholy with Mademoiselle Karagina," said Pierre. + +"Really?" asked Princess Mary, looking into Pierre's kindly face and +still thinking of her own sorrow. "It would be a relief," thought she, +"if I ventured to confide what I am feeling to someone. I should +like to tell everything to Pierre. He is kind and generous. It would +be a relief. He would give me advice." + +"Would you marry him?" + +"Oh, my God, Count, there are moments when I would marry anybody!" +she cried suddenly to her own surprise and with tears in her voice. +"Ah, how bitter it is to love someone near to you and to feel that..." +she went on in a trembling voice, "that you can do nothing for him but +grieve him, and to know that you cannot alter this. Then there is only +one thing left--to go away, but where could I go?" + +"What is wrong? What is it, Princess?" + +But without finishing what she was saying, Princess Mary burst +into tears. + +"I don't know what is the matter with me today. Don't take any +notice--forget what I have said!" + +Pierre's gaiety vanished completely. He anxiously questioned the +princess, asked her to speak out fully and confide her grief to him; +but she only repeated that she begged him to forget what she had said, +that she did not remember what she had said, and that she had no +trouble except the one he knew of--that Prince Andrew's marriage +threatened to cause a rupture between father and son. + +"Have you any news of the Rostovs?" she asked, to change the +subject. "I was told they are coming soon. I am also expecting +Andrew any day. I should like them to meet here." + +"And how does he now regard the matter?" asked Pierre, referring +to the old prince. + +Princess Mary shook her head. + +"What is to be done? In a few months the year will be up. The +thing is impossible. I only wish I could spare my brother the first +moments. I wish they would come sooner. I hope to be friends with her. +You have known them a long time," said Princess Mary. "Tell me +honestly the whole truth: what sort of girl is she, and what do you +think of her?--The real truth, because you know Andrew is risking so +much doing this against his father's will that I should like to +know..." + +An undefined instinct told Pierre that these explanations, and +repeated requests to be told the whole truth, expressed ill-will on +the princess' part toward her future sister-in-law and a wish that +he should disapprove of Andrew's choice; but in reply he said what +he felt rather than what he thought. + +"I don't know how to answer your question," he said, blushing +without knowing why. "I really don't know what sort of girl she is; +I can't analyze her at all. She is enchanting, but what makes her so I +don't know. That is all one can say about her." + +Princess Mary sighed, and the expression on her face said: "Yes, +that's what I expected and feared." + +"Is she clever?" she asked. + +Pierre considered. + +"I think not," he said, "and yet--yes. She does not deign to be +clever.... Oh no, she is simply enchanting, and that is all." + +Princess Mary again shook her head disapprovingly. + +"Ah, I so long to like her! Tell her so if you see her before I do." + +"I hear they are expected very soon," said Pierre. + +Princess Mary told Pierre of her plan to become intimate with her +future sister-in-law as soon as the Rostovs arrived and to try to +accustom the old prince to her. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Boris had not succeeded in making a wealthy match in Petersburg, +so with the same object in view he came to Moscow. There he wavered +between the two richest heiresses, Julie and Princess Mary. Though +Princess Mary despite her plainness seemed to him more attractive than +Julie, he, without knowing why, felt awkward about paying court to +her. When they had last met on the old prince's name day, she had +answered at random all his attempts to talk sentimentally, evidently +not listening to what he was saying. + +Julie on the contrary accepted his attentions readily, though in a +manner peculiar to herself. + +She was twenty-seven. After the death of her brothers she had become +very wealthy. She was by now decidedly plain, but thought herself +not merely as good-looking as before but even far more attractive. She +was confirmed in this delusion by the fact that she had become a +very wealthy heiress and also by the fact that the older she grew +the less dangerous she became to men, and the more freely they could +associate with her and avail themselves of her suppers, soirees, and +the animated company that assembled at her house, without incurring +any obligation. A man who would have been afraid ten years before of +going every day to the house when there was a girl of seventeen there, +for fear of compromising her and committing himself, would now go +boldly every day and treat her not as a marriageable girl but as a +sexless acquaintance. + +That winter the Karagins' house was the most agreeable and +hospitable in Moscow. In addition to the formal evening and dinner +parties, a large company, chiefly of men, gathered there every day, +supping at midnight and staying till three in the morning. Julie never +missed a ball, a promenade, or a play. Her dresses were always of +the latest fashion. But in spite of that she seemed to be +disillusioned about everything and told everyone that she did not +believe either in friendship or in love, or any of the joys of life, +and expected peace only "yonder." She adopted the tone of one who +has suffered a great disappointment, like a girl who has either lost +the man she loved or been cruelly deceived by him. Though nothing of +the kind had happened to her she was regarded in that light, and had +even herself come to believe that she had suffered much in life. +This melancholy, which did not prevent her amusing herself, did not +hinder the young people who came to her house from passing the time +pleasantly. Every visitor who came to the house paid his tribute to +the melancholy mood of the hostess, and then amused himself with +society gossip, dancing, intellectual games, and bouts rimes, which +were in vogue at the Karagins'. Only a few of these young men, among +them Boris, entered more deeply into Julie's melancholy, and with +these she had prolonged conversations in private on the vanity of +all worldly things, and to them she showed her albums filled with +mournful sketches, maxims, and verses. + +To Boris, Julie was particularly gracious: she regretted his early +disillusionment with life, offered him such consolation of +friendship as she who had herself suffered so much could render, and +showed him her album. Boris sketched two trees in the album and wrote: +"Rustic trees, your dark branches shed gloom and melancholy upon me." + +On another page he drew a tomb, and wrote: + + La mort est secourable et la mort est tranquille. + Ah! contre les douleurs il n'y a pas d'autre asile.* + + +*Death gives relief and death is peaceful. + + Ah! from suffering there is no other refuge. + +Julia said this was charming + +"There is something so enchanting in the smile of melancholy," she +said to Boris, repeating word for word a passage she had copied from a +book. "It is a ray of light in the darkness, a shade between sadness +and despair, showing the possibility of consolation." + +In reply Boris wrote these lines: + + Aliment de poison d'une ame trop sensible, + Toi, sans qui le bonheur me serait impossible, + Tendre melancholie, ah, viens me consoler, + Viens calmer les tourments de ma sombre retraite, + Et mele une douceur secrete + A ces pleurs que je sens couler.* + + +*Poisonous nourishment of a too sensitive soul, + + Thou, without whom happiness would for me be impossible, + + Tender melancholy, ah, come to console me, + + Come to calm the torments of my gloomy retreat, + + And mingle a secret sweetness + + With these tears that I feel to be flowing. + + +For Boris, Julie played most doleful nocturnes on her harp. Boris +read Poor Liza aloud to her, and more than once interrupted the +reading because of the emotions that choked him. Meeting at large +gatherings Julie and Boris looked on one another as the only souls who +understood one another in a world of indifferent people. + +Anna Mikhaylovna, who often visited the Karagins, while playing +cards with the mother made careful inquiries as to Julie's dowry +(she was to have two estates in Penza and the Nizhegorod forests). +Anna Mikhaylovna regarded the refined sadness that united her son to +the wealthy Julie with emotion, and resignation to the Divine will. + +"You are always charming and melancholy, my dear Julie," she said to +the daughter. "Boris says his soul finds repose at your house. He +has suffered so many disappointments and is so sensitive," said she to +the mother. "Ah, my dear, I can't tell you how fond I have grown of +Julie latterly," she said to her son. "But who could help loving +her? She is an angelic being! Ah, Boris, Boris!"--she paused. "And how +I pity her mother," she went on; "today she showed me her accounts and +letters from Penza (they have enormous estates there), and she, poor +thing, has no one to help her, and they do cheat her so!" + +Boris smiled almost imperceptibly while listening to his mother. +He laughed blandly at her naive diplomacy but listened to what she had +to say, and sometimes questioned her carefully about the Penza and +Nizhegorod estates. + +Julie had long been expecting a proposal from her melancholy +adorer and was ready to accept it; but some secret feeling of +repulsion for her, for her passionate desire to get married, for her +artificiality, and a feeling of horror at renouncing the possibility +of real love still restrained Boris. His leave was expiring. He +spent every day and whole days at the Karagins', and every day on +thinking the matter over told himself that he would propose +tomorrow. But in Julie's presence, looking at her red face and chin +(nearly always powdered), her moist eyes, and her expression of +continual readiness to pass at once from melancholy to an unnatural +rapture of married bliss, Boris could not utter the decisive words, +though in imagination he had long regarded himself as the possessor of +those Penza and Nizhegorod estates and had apportioned the use of +the income from them. Julie saw Boris' indecision, and sometimes the +thought occurred to her that she was repulsive to him, but her +feminine self-deception immediately supplied her with consolation, and +she told herself that he was only shy from love. Her melancholy, +however, began to turn to irritability, and not long before Boris' +departure she formed a definite plan of action. Just as Boris' leave +of absence was expiring, Anatole Kuragin made his appearance in +Moscow, and of course in the Karagins' drawing room, and Julie, +suddenly abandoning her melancholy, became cheerful and very attentive +to Kuragin. + +"My dear," said Anna Mikhaylovna to her son, "I know from a reliable +source that Prince Vasili has sent his son to Moscow to get him +married to Julie. I am so fond of Julie that I should be sorry for +her. What do you think of it, my dear?" + +The idea of being made a fool of and of having thrown away that +whole month of arduous melancholy service to Julie, and of seeing +all the revenue from the Penza estates which he had already mentally +apportioned and put to proper use fall into the hands of another, +and especially into the hands of that idiot Anatole, pained Boris. +He drove to the Karagins' with the firm intention of proposing. +Julie met him in a gay, careless manner, spoke casually of how she had +enjoyed yesterday's ball, and asked when he was leaving. Though +Boris had come intentionally to speak of his love and therefore +meant to be tender, he began speaking irritably of feminine +inconstancy, of how easily women can turn from sadness to joy, and how +their moods depend solely on who happens to be paying court to them. +Julie was offended and replied that it was true that a woman needs +variety, and the same thing over and over again would weary anyone. + +"Then I should advise you..." Boris began, wishing to sting her; but +at that instant the galling thought occurred to him that he might have +to leave Moscow without having accomplished his aim, and have vainly +wasted his efforts--which was a thing he never allowed to happen. + +He checked himself in the middle of the sentence, lowered his eyes +to avoid seeing her unpleasantly irritated and irresolute face, and +said: + +"I did not come here at all to quarrel with you. On the contrary..." + +He glanced at her to make sure that he might go on. Her irritability +had suddenly quite vanished, and her anxious, imploring eyes were +fixed on him with greedy expectation. "I can always arrange so as +not to see her often," thought Boris. "The affair has been begun and +must be finished!" He blushed hotly, raised his eyes to hers, and +said: + +"You know my feelings for you!" + +There was no need to say more: Julie's face shone with triumph and +self-satisfaction; but she forced Boris to say all that is said on +such occasions--that he loved her and had never loved any other +woman more than her. She knew that for the Penza estates and +Nizhegorod forests she could demand this, and she received what she +demanded. + +The affianced couple, no longer alluding to trees that shed gloom +and melancholy upon them, planned the arrangements of a splendid house +in Petersburg, paid calls, and prepared everything for a brilliant +wedding. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +At the end of January old Count Rostov went to Moscow with Natasha +and Sonya. The countess was still unwell and unable to travel but it +was impossible to wait for her recovery. Prince Andrew was expected in +Moscow any day, the trousseau had to be ordered and the estate near +Moscow had to be sold, besides which the opportunity of presenting his +future daughter-in-law to old Prince Bolkonski while he was in +Moscow could not be missed. The Rostovs' Moscow house had not been +heated that winter and, as they had come only for a short time and the +countess was not with them, the count decided to stay with Marya +Dmitrievna Akhrosimova, who had long been pressing her hospitality +on them. + +Late one evening the Rostovs' four sleighs drove into Marya +Dmitrievna's courtyard in the old Konyusheny street. Marya +Dmitrievna lived alone. She had already married off her daughter, +and her sons were all in the service. + +She held herself as erect, told everyone her opinion as candidly, +loudly, and bluntly as ever, and her whole bearing seemed a reproach +to others for any weakness, passion, or temptation--the possibility of +which she did not admit. From early in the morning, wearing a dressing +jacket, she attended to her household affairs, and then she drove out: +on holy days to church and after the service to jails and prisons on +affairs of which she never spoke to anyone. On ordinary days, after +dressing, she received petitioners of various classes, of whom there +were always some. Then she had dinner, a substantial and appetizing +meal at which there were always three or four guests; after dinner she +played a game of boston, and at night she had the newspapers or a +new book read to her while she knitted. She rarely made an exception +and went out to pay visits, and then only to the most important +persons in the town. + +She had not yet gone to bed when the Rostovs arrived and the +pulley of the hall door squeaked from the cold as it let in the +Rostovs and their servants. Marya Dmitrievna, with her spectacles +hanging down on her nose and her head flung back, stood in the hall +doorway looking with a stern, grim face at the new arrivals. One might +have thought she was angry with the travelers and would immediately +turn them out, had she not at the same time been giving careful +instructions to the servants for the accommodation of the visitors and +their belongings. + +"The count's things? Bring them here," she said, pointing to the +portmanteaus and not greeting anyone. "The young ladies'? There to the +left. Now what are you dawdling for?" she cried to the maids. "Get the +samovar ready!... You've grown plumper and prettier," she remarked, +drawing Natasha (whose cheeks were glowing from the cold) to her by +the hood. "Foo! You are cold! Now take off your things, quick!" she +shouted to the count who was going to kiss her hand. "You're half +frozen, I'm sure! Bring some rum for tea!... Bonjour, Sonya dear!" she +added, turning to Sonya and indicating by this French greeting her +slightly contemptuous though affectionate attitude toward her. + +When they came in to tea, having taken off their outdoor things +and tidied themselves up after their journey, Marya Dmitrievna +kissed them all in due order. + +"I'm heartily glad you have come and are staying with me. It was +high time," she said, giving Natasha a significant look. "The old +man is here and his son's expected any day. You'll have to make his +acquaintance. But we'll speak of that later on," she added, glancing at +Sonya with a look that showed she did not want to speak of it in her +presence. "Now listen," she said to the count. "What do you want +tomorrow? Whom will you send for? Shinshin?" she crooked one of her +fingers. "The sniveling Anna Mikhaylovna? That's two. She's here +with her son. The son is getting married! Then Bezukhov, eh? He is +here too, with his wife. He ran away from her and she came galloping +after him. He dined with me on Wednesday. As for them"--and she +pointed to the girls--"tomorrow I'll take them first to the Iberian +shrine of the Mother of God, and then we'll drive to the +Super-Rogue's. I suppose you'll have everything new. Don't judge by +me: sleeves nowadays are this size! The other day young Princess Irina +Vasilevna came to see me; she was an awful sight--looked as if she had +put two barrels on her arms. You know not a day passes now without +some new fashion.... And what have you to do yourself?" she asked +the count sternly. + +"One thing has come on top of another: her rags to buy, and now a +purchaser has turned up for the Moscow estate and for the house. If +you will be so kind, I'll fix a time and go down to the estate just +for a day, and leave my lassies with you." + +"All right. All right. They'll be safe with me, as safe as in +Chancery! I'll take them where they must go, scold them a bit, and pet +them a bit," said Marya Dmitrievna, touching her goddaughter and +favorite, Natasha, on the cheek with her large hand. + +Next morning Marya Dmitrievna took the young ladies to the Iberian +shrine of the Mother of God and to Madame Suppert-Roguet, who was so +afraid of Marya Dmitrievna that she always let her have costumes at +a loss merely to get rid of her. Marya Dmitrievna ordered almost the +whole trousseau. When they got home she turned everybody out of the +room except Nataisha, and then called her pet to her armchair. + +"Well, now we'll talk. I congratulate you on your betrothed. +You've hooked a fine fellow! I am glad for your sake and I've known +him since he was so high." She held her hand a couple of feet from the +ground. Natasha blushed happily. "I like him and all his family. Now +listen! You know that old Prince Nicholas much dislikes his son's +marrying. The old fellow's crotchety! Of course Prince Andrew is not a +child and can shift without him, but it's not nice to enter a family +against a father's will. One wants to do it peacefully and lovingly. +You're a clever girl and you'll know how to manage. Be kind, and use +your wits. Then all will be well." + +Natasha remained silent, from shyness Marya Dmitrievna supposed, but +really because she disliked anyone interfering in what touched her +love of Prince Andrew, which seemed to her so apart from all human +affairs that no one could understand it. She loved and knew Prince +Andrew, he loved her only, and was to come one of these days and +take her. She wanted nothing more. + +"You see I have known him a long time and am also fond of Mary, your +future sister-in-law. 'Husbands' sisters bring up blisters,' but +this one wouldn't hurt a fly. She has asked me to bring you two +together. Tomorrow you'll go with your father to see her. Be very nice +and affectionate to her: you're younger than she. When he comes, he'll +find you already know his sister and father and are liked by them. +Am I right or not? Won't that be best?" + +"Yes, it will," Natasha answered reluctantly. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Next day, by Marya Dmitrievna's advice, Count Rostov took Natasha to +call on Prince Nicholas Bolkonski. The count did not set out +cheerfully on this visit, at heart he felt afraid. He well +remembered the last interview he had had with the old prince at the +time of the enrollment, when in reply to an invitation to dinner he +had had to listen to an angry reprimand for not having provided his +full quota of men. Natasha, on the other hand, having put on her +best gown, was in the highest spirits. "They can't help liking me," +she thought. "Everybody always has liked me, and I am so willing to do +anything they wish, so ready to be fond of him--for being his +father--and of her--for being his sister--that there is no reason +for them not to like me..." + +They drove up to the gloomy old house on the Vozdvizhenka and +entered the vestibule. + +"Well, the Lord have mercy on us!" said the count, half in jest, +half in earnest; but Natasha noticed that her father was flurried on +entering the anteroom and inquired timidly and softly whether the +prince and princess were at home. + +When they had been announced a perturbation was noticeable among the +servants. The footman who had gone to announce them was stopped by +another in the large hall and they whispered to one another. Then a +maidservant ran into the hall and hurriedly said something, mentioning +the princess. At last an old, cross looking footman came and announced +to the Rostovs that the prince was not receiving, but that the +princess begged them to walk up. The first person who came to meet the +visitors was Mademoiselle Bourienne. She greeted the father and +daughter with special politeness and showed them to the princess' +room. The princess, looking excited and nervous, her face flushed in +patches, ran in to meet the visitors, treading heavily, and vainly +trying to appear cordial and at ease. From the first glance Princess +Mary did not like Natasha. She thought her too fashionably dressed, +frivolously gay and vain. She did not at all realize that before +having seen her future sister-in-law she was prejudiced against her by +involuntary envy of her beauty, youth, and happiness, as well as by +jealousy of her brother's love for her. Apart from this insuperable +antipathy to her, Princess Mary was agitated just then because on +the Rostovs' being announced, the old prince had shouted that he did +not wish to see them, that Princess Mary might do so if she chose, but +they were not to be admitted to him. She had decided to receive +them, but feared lest the prince might at any moment indulge in some +freak, as he seemed much upset by the Rostovs' visit. + +"There, my dear princess, I've brought you my songstress," said +the count, bowing and looking round uneasily as if afraid the old +prince might appear. "I am so glad you should get to know one +another... very sorry the prince is still ailing," and after a few +more commonplace remarks he rose. "If you'll allow me to leave my +Natasha in your hands for a quarter of an hour, Princess, I'll drive +round to see Anna Semenovna, it's quite near in the Dogs' Square, +and then I'll come back for her." + +The count had devised this diplomatic ruse (as he afterwards told +his daughter) to give the future sisters-in-law an opportunity to talk +to one another freely, but another motive was to avoid the danger of +encountering the old prince, of whom he was afraid. He did not mention +this to his daughter, but Natasha noticed her father's nervousness and +anxiety and felt mortified by it. She blushed for him, grew still +angrier at having blushed, and looked at the princess with a bold +and defiant expression which said that she was not afraid of +anybody. The princess told the count that she would be delighted, +and only begged him to stay longer at Anna Semenovna's, and he +departed. + +Despite the uneasy glances thrown at her by Princess Mary--who +wished to have a tete-a-tete with Natasha--Mademoiselle Bourienne +remained in the room and persistently talked about Moscow amusements +and theaters. Natasha felt offended by the hesitation she had +noticed in the anteroom, by her father's nervousness, and by the +unnatural manner of the princess who--she thought--was making a +favor of receiving her, and so everything displeased her. She did +not like Princess Mary, whom she thought very plain, affected, and +dry. Natasha suddenly shrank into herself and involuntarily assumed an +offhand air which alienated Princess Mary still more. After five +minutes of irksome, constrained conversation, they heard the sound +of slippered feet rapidly approaching. Princess Mary looked +frightened. + +The door opened and the old prince, in a dress, ing gown and a white +nightcap, came in. + +"Ah, madam!" he began. "Madam, Countess... Countess Rostova, if I am +not mistaken... I beg you to excuse me, to excuse me... I did not +know, madam. God is my witness, I did not know you had honored us with +a visit, and I came in such a costume only to see my daughter. I beg +you to excuse me... God is my witness, I didn't know-" he repeated, +stressing the word "God" so unnaturally and so unpleasantly that +Princess Mary stood with downcast eyes not daring to look either at +her father or at Natasha. + +Nor did the latter, having risen and curtsied, know what to do. +Mademoiselle Bourienne alone smiled agreeably. + +"I beg you to excuse me, excuse me! God is my witness, I did not +know," muttered the old man, and after looking Natasha over from +head to foot he went out. + +Mademoiselle Bourienne was the first to recover herself after this +apparition and began speaking about the prince's indisposition. +Natasha and Princess Mary looked at one another in silence, and the +longer they did so without saying what they wanted to say, the greater +grew their antipathy to one another. + +When the count returned, Natasha was impolitely pleased and hastened +to get away: at that moment she hated the stiff, elderly princess, who +could place her in such an embarrassing position and had spent half an +hour with her without once mentioning Prince Andrew. "I couldn't begin +talking about him in the presence of that Frenchwoman," thought +Natasha. The same thought was meanwhile tormenting Princess Mary. +She knew what she ought to have said to Natasha, but she had been +unable to say it because Mademoiselle Bourienne was in the way, and +because, without knowing why, she felt it very difficult to speak of +the marriage. When the count was already leaving the room, Princess +Mary went up hurriedly to Natasha, took her by the hand, and said with +a deep sigh: + +"Wait, I must..." + +Natasha glanced at her ironically without knowing why. + +"Dear Natalie," said Princess Mary, "I want you to know that I am +glad my brother has found happiness...." + +She paused, feeling that she was not telling the truth. Natasha +noticed this and guessed its reason. + +"I think, Princess, it is not convenient to speak of that now," +she said with external dignity and coldness, though she felt the tears +choking her. + +"What have I said and what have I done?" thought she, as soon as she +was out of the room. + +They waited a long time for Natasha to come to dinner that day. +She sat in her room crying like a child, blowing her nose and sobbing. +Sonya stood beside her, kissing her hair. + +"Natasha, what is it about?" she asked. "What do they matter to you? +It will all pass, Natasha." + +"But if you only knew how offensive it was... as if I..." + +"Don't talk about it, Natasha. It wasn't your fault so why should +you mind? Kiss me," said Sonya. + +Natasha raised her head and, kissing her friend on the lips, pressed +her wet face against her. + +"I can't tell you, I don't know. No one's to blame," said Natasha- +"It's my fault. But it all hurts terribly. Oh, why doesn't he +come?..." + +She came in to dinner with red eyes. Marya Dmitrievna, who knew +how the prince had received the Rostovs, pretended not to notice how +upset Natasha was and jested resolutely and loudly at table with the +count and the other guests. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +That evening the Rostovs went to the Opera, for which Marya +Dmitrievna had taken a box. + +Natasha did not want to go, but could not refuse Marya +Dmitrievna's kind offer which was intended expressly for her. When she +came ready dressed into the ballroom to await her father, and +looking in the large mirror there saw that she was pretty, very +pretty, she felt even more sad, but it was a sweet, tender sadness. + +"O God, if he were here now I would not behave as I did then, but +differently. I would not be silly and afraid of things, I would simply +embrace him, cling to him, and make him look at me with those +searching inquiring eyes with which he has so often looked at me, +and then I would make him laugh as he used to laugh. And his eyes--how +I see those eyes!" thought Natasha. "And what do his father and sister +matter to me? I love him alone, him, him, with that face and those +eyes, with his smile, manly and yet childlike.... No, I had better not +think of him; not think of him but forget him, quite forget him for +the present. I can't bear this waiting and I shall cry in a minute!" +and she turned away from the glass, making an effort not to cry. +"And how can Sonya love Nicholas so calmly and quietly and wait so +long and so patiently?" thought she, looking at Sonya, who also came +in quite ready, with a fan in her hand. "No, she's altogether +different. I can't!" + +Natasha at that moment felt so softened and tender that it was not +enough for her to love and know she was beloved, she wanted now, at +once, to embrace the man she loved, to speak and hear from him words +of love such as filled her heart. While she sat in the carriage beside +her father, pensively watching the lights of the street lamps +flickering on the frozen window, she felt still sadder and more in +love, and forgot where she was going and with whom. Having fallen into +the line of carriages, the Rostovs' carriage drove up to the +theater, its wheels squeaking over the snow. Natasha and Sonya, +holding up their dresses, jumped out quickly. The count got out helped +by the footmen, and, passing among men and women who were entering and +the program sellers, they all three went along the corridor to the +first row of boxes. Through the closed doors the music was already +audible. + +"Natasha, your hair!..." whispered Sonya. + +An attendant deferentially and quickly slipped before the ladies and +opened the door of their box. The music sounded louder and through the +door rows of brightly lit boxes in which ladies sat with bare arms and +shoulders, and noisy stalls brilliant with uniforms, glittered +before their eyes. A lady entering the next box shot a glance of +feminine envy at Natasha. The curtain had not yet risen and the +overture was being played. Natasha, smoothing her gown, went in with +Sonya and sat down, scanning the brilliant tiers of boxes opposite. +A sensation she had not experienced for a long time--that of +hundreds of eyes looking at her bare arms and neck--suddenly +affected her both agreeably and disagreeably and called up a whole +crowd of memories, desires and emotions associated with that feeling. + +The two remarkably pretty girls, Natasha and Sonya, with Count +Rostov who had not been seen in Moscow for a long time, attracted +general attention. Moreover, everybody knew vaguely of Natasha's +engagement to Prince Andrew, and knew that the Rostovs had lived in +the country ever since, and all looked with curiosity at a fiancee who +was making one of the best matches in Russia. + +Natasha's looks, as everyone told her, had improved in the +country, and that evening thanks to her agitation she was particularly +pretty. She struck those who saw her by her fullness of life and +beauty, combined with her indifference to everything about her. Her +black eyes looked at the crowd without seeking anyone, and her +delicate arm, bare to above the elbow, lay on the velvet edge of the +box, while, evidently unconsciously, she opened and closed her hand in +time to the music, crumpling her program. "Look, there's Alenina," +said Sonya, "with her mother, isn't it?" + +"Dear me, Michael Kirilovich has grown still stouter!" remarked +the count. + +"Look at our Anna Mikhaylovna--what a headdress she has on!" + +"The Karagins, Julie--and Boris with them. One can see at once +that they're engaged...." + +"Drubetskoy has proposed?" + +"Oh yes, I heard it today," said Shinshin, coming into the +Rostovs' box. + +Natasha looked in the direction in which her father's eyes were +turned and saw Julie sitting beside her mother with a happy look on +her face and a string of pearls round her thick red neck--which +Natasha knew was covered with powder. Behind them, wearing a smile and +leaning over with an ear to Julie's mouth, was Boris' handsome +smoothly brushed head. He looked the Rostovs from under his brows +and said something, smiling, to his betrothed. + +"They are talking about us, about me and him!" thought Natasha. "And +he no doubt is calming her jealousy of me. They needn't trouble +themselves! If only they knew how little I am concerned about any of +them." + +Behind them sat Anna Mikhaylovna wearing a green headdress and +with a happy look of resignation to the will of God on her face. Their +box was pervaded by that atmosphere of an affianced couple which +Natasha knew so well and liked so much. She turned away and suddenly +remembered all that had been so humiliating in her morning's visit. + +"What right has he not to wish to receive me into his family? Oh, +better not think of it--not till he comes back!" she told herself, and +began looking at the faces, some strange and some familiar, in the +stalls. In the front, in the very center, leaning back against the +orchestra rail, stood Dolokhov in a Persian dress, his curly hair +brushed up into a huge shock. He stood in full view of the audience, +well aware that he was attracting everyone's attention, yet as much at +ease as though he were in his own room. Around him thronged Moscow's +most brilliant young men, whom he evidently dominated. + +The count, laughing, nudged the blushing Sonya and pointed to her +former adorer. + +"Do you recognize him?" said he. "And where has he sprung from?" +he asked, turning to Shinshin. "Didn't he vanish somewhere?" + +"He did," replied Shinshin. "He was in the Caucasus and ran away +from there. They say he has been acting as minister to some ruling +prince in Persia, where he killed the Shah's brother. Now all the +Moscow ladies are mad about him! It's 'Dolokhov the Persian' that does +it! We never hear a word but Dolokhov is mentioned. They swear by him, +they offer him to you as they would a dish of choice sterlet. Dolokhov +and Anatole Kuragin have turned all our ladies' heads." + +A tall, beautiful woman with a mass of plaited hair and much exposed +plump white shoulders and neck, round which she wore a double string +of large pearls, entered the adjoining box rustling her heavy silk +dress and took a long time settling into her place. + +Natasha involuntarily gazed at that neck, those shoulders, and +pearls and coiffure, and admired the beauty of the shoulders and the +pearls. While Natasha was fixing her gaze on her for the second time +the lady looked round and, meeting the count's eyes, nodded to him and +smiled. She was the Countess Bezukhova, Pierre's wife, and the +count, who knew everyone in society, leaned over and spoke to her. + +"Have you been here long, Countess?" he inquired. "I'll call, I'll +call to kiss your hand. I'm here on business and have brought my girls +with me. They say Semenova acts marvelously. Count Pierre never used +to forget us. Is he here?" + +"Yes, he meant to look in," answered Helene, and glanced attentively +at Natasha. + +Count Rostov resumed his seat. + +"Handsome, isn't she?" he whispered to Natasha. + +"Wonderful!" answered Natasha. "She's a woman one could easily +fall in love with." + +Just then the last chords of the overture were heard and the +conductor tapped with his stick. Some latecomers took their seats in +the stalls, and the curtain rose. + +As soon as it rose everyone in the boxes and stalls became silent, +and all the men, old and young, in uniform and evening dress, and +all the women with gems on their bare flesh, turned their whole +attention with eager curiosity to the stage. Natasha too began to look +at it. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The floor of the stage consisted of smooth boards, at the sides +was some painted cardboard representing trees, and at the back was a +cloth stretched over boards. In the center of the stage sat some girls +in red bodices and white skirts. One very fat girl in a white silk +dress sat apart on a low bench, to the back of which a piece of +green cardboard was glued. They all sang something. When they had +finished their song the girl in white went up to the prompter's box +and a man with tight silk trousers over his stout legs, and holding +a plume and a dagger, went up to her and began singing, waving his +arms about. + +First the man in the tight trousers sang alone, then she sang, +then they both paused while the orchestra played and the man +fingered the hand of the girl in white, obviously awaiting the beat to +start singing with her. They sang together and everyone in the theater +began clapping and shouting, while the man and woman on the stage--who +represented lovers--began smiling, spreading out their arms, and +bowing. + +After her life in the country, and in her present serious mood, +all this seemed grotesque and amazing to Natasha. She could not follow +the opera nor even listen to the music; she saw only the painted +cardboard and the queerly dressed men and women who moved, spoke, +and sang so strangely in that brilliant light. She knew what it was +all meant to represent, but it was so pretentiously false and +unnatural that she first felt ashamed for the actors and then amused +at them. She looked at the faces of the audience, seeking in them +the same sense of ridicule and perplexity she herself experienced, but +they all seemed attentive to what was happening on the stage, and +expressed delight which to Natasha seemed feigned. "I suppose it has +to be like this!" she thought. She kept looking round in turn at the +rows of pomaded heads in the stalls and then at the seminude women +in the boxes, especially at Helene in the next box, who--apparently +quite unclothed--sat with a quiet tranquil smile, not taking her +eyes off the stage. And feeling the bright light that flooded the +whole place and the warm air heated by the crowd, Natasha little by +little began to pass into a state of intoxication she had not +experienced for a long while. She did not realize who and where she +was, nor what was going on before her. As she looked and thought, +the strangest fancies unexpectedly and disconnectedly passed through +her mind: the idea occurred to her of jumping onto the edge of the box +and singing the air the actress was singing, then she wished to +touch with her fan an old gentleman sitting not far from her, then +to lean over to Helene and tickle her. + +At a moment when all was quiet before the commencement of a song, +a door leading to the stalls on the side nearest the Rostovs' box +creaked, and the steps of a belated arrival were heard. "There's +Kuragin!" whispered Shinshin. Countess Bezukhova turned smiling to the +newcomer, and Natasha, following the direction of that look, saw an +exceptionally handsome adjutant approaching their box with a +self-assured yet courteous bearing. This was Anatole Kuragin whom +she had seen and noticed long ago at the ball in Petersburg. He was +now in an adjutant's uniform with one epaulet and a shoulder knot. +He moved with a restrained swagger which would have been ridiculous +had he not been so good-looking and had his handsome face not worn +such an expression of good-humored complacency and gaiety. Though +the performance was proceeding, he walked deliberately down the +carpeted gangway, his sword and spurs slightly jingling and his +handsome perfumed head held high. Having looked at Natasha he +approached his sister, laid his well gloved hand on the edge of her +box, nodded to her, and leaning forward asked a question, with a +motion toward Natasha. + +"Mais charmante!" said he, evidently referring to Natasha, who did +not exactly hear his words but understood them from the movement of +his lips. Then he took his place in the first row of the stalls and +sat down beside Dolokhov, nudging with his elbow in a friendly and +offhand way that Dolokhov whom others treated so fawningly. He +winked at him gaily, smiled, and rested his foot against the orchestra +screen. + +"How like the brother is to the sister," remarked the count. "And +how handsome they both are!" + +Shinshin, lowering his voice, began to tell the count of some +intrigue of Kuragin's in Moscow, and Natasha tried to overhear it just +because he had said she was "charmante." + +The first act was over. In the stalls everyone began moving about, +going out and coming in. + +Boris came to the Rostovs' box, received their congratulations +very simply, and raising his eyebrows with an absent-minded smile +conveyed to Natasha and Sonya his fiancee's invitation to her wedding, +and went away. Natasha with a gay, coquettish smile talked to him, and +congratulated on his approaching wedding that same Boris with whom she +had formerly been in love. In the state of intoxication she was in, +everything seemed simple and natural. + +The scantily clad Helene smiled at everyone in the same way, and +Natasha gave Boris a similar smile. + +Helene's box was filled and surrounded from the stalls by the most +distinguished and intellectual men, who seemed to vie with one another +in their wish to let everyone see that they knew her. + +During the whole of that entr'acte Kuragin stood with Dolokhov in +front of the orchestra partition, looking at the Rostovs' box. Natasha +knew he was talking about her and this afforded her pleasure. She even +turned so that he should see her profile in what she thought was its +most becoming aspect. Before the beginning of the second act Pierre +appeared in the stalls. The Rostovs had not seen him since their +arrival. His face looked sad, and he had grown still stouter since +Natasha last saw him. He passed up to the front rows, not noticing +anyone. Anatole went up to him and began speaking to him, looking at +and indicating the Rostovs' box. On seeing Natasha Pierre grew +animated and, hastily passing between the rows, came toward their box. +When he got there he leaned on his elbows and, smiling, talked to +her for a long time. While conversing with Pierre, Natasha heard a +man's voice in Countess Bezukhova's box and something told her it +was Kuragin. She turned and their eyes met. Almost smiling, he gazed +straight into her eyes with such an enraptured caressing look that +it seemed strange to be so near him, to look at him like that, to be +so sure he admired her, and not to be acquainted with him. + +In the second act there was scenery representing tombstones, there +was a round hole in the canvas to represent the moon, shades were +raised over the footlights, and from horns and contrabass came deep +notes while many people appeared from right and left wearing black +cloaks and holding things like daggers in their hands. They began +waving their arms. Then some other people ran in and began dragging +away the maiden who had been in white and was now in light blue. +They did not drag her away at once, but sang with her for a long +time and then at last dragged her off, and behind the scenes something +metallic was struck three times and everyone knelt down and sang a +prayer. All these things were repeatedly interrupted by the +enthusiastic shouts of the audience. + +During this act every time Natasha looked toward the stalls she +saw Anatole Kuragin with an arm thrown across the back of his chair, +staring at her. She was pleased to see that he was captivated by her +and it did not occur to her that there was anything wrong in it. + +When the second act was over Countess Bezukhova rose, turned to +the Rostovs' box--her whole bosom completely exposed--beckoned the old +count with a gloved finger, and paying no attention to those who had +entered her box began talking to him with an amiable smile. + +"Do make me acquainted with your charming daughters," said she. "The +whole town is singing their praises and I don't even know then!" + +Natasha rose and curtsied to the splendid countess. She was so +pleased by praise from this brilliant beauty that she blushed with +pleasure. + +"I want to become a Moscovite too, now," said Helene. "How is it +you're not ashamed to bury such pearls in the country?" + +Countess Bezukhova quite deserved her reputation of being a +fascinating woman. She could say what she did not think--especially +what was flattering--quite simply and naturally. + +"Dear count, you must let me look after your daughters! Though I +am not staying here long this time--nor are you--I will try to amuse +them. I have already heard much of you in Petersburg and wanted to get +to know you," said she to Natasha with her stereotyped and lovely +smile. "I had heard about you from my page, Drubetskoy. Have you heard +he is getting married? And also from my husband's friend Bolkonski, +Prince Andrew Bolkonski," she went on with special emphasis, +implying that she knew of his relation to Natasha. To get better +acquainted she asked that one of the young ladies should come into her +box for the rest of the performance, and Natasha moved over to it. + +The scene of the third act represented a palace in which many +candles were burning and pictures of knights with short beards hung on +the walls. In the middle stood what were probably a king and a +queen. The king waved his right arm and, evidently nervous, sang +something badly and sat down on a crimson throne. The maiden who had +been first in white and then in light blue, now wore only a smock, and +stood beside the throne with her hair down. She sang something +mournfully, addressing the queen, but the king waved his arm severely, +and men and women with bare legs came in from both sides and began +dancing all together. Then the violins played very shrilly and merrily +and one of the women with thick bare legs and thin arms, separating +from the others, went behind the wings, adjusted her bodice, +returned to the middle of the stage, and began jumping and striking +one foot rapidly against the other. In the stalls everyone clapped and +shouted "bravo!" Then one of the men went into a corner of the +stage. The cymbals and horns in the orchestra struck up more loudly, +and this man with bare legs jumped very high and waved his feet +about very rapidly. (He was Duport, who received sixty thousand rubles +a year for this art.) Everybody in the stalls, boxes, and galleries +began clapping and shouting with all their might, and the man +stopped and began smiling and bowing to all sides. Then other men +and women danced with bare legs. Then the king again shouted to the +sound of music, and they all began singing. But suddenly a storm +came on, chromatic scales and diminished sevenths were heard in the +orchestra, everyone ran off, again dragging one of their number +away, and the curtain dropped. Once more there was a terrible noise +and clatter among the audience, and with rapturous faces everyone +began shouting: "Duport! Duport! Duport!" Natasha no longer thought +this strange. She look about with pleasure, smiling joyfully. + +"Isn't Duport delightful?" Helene asked her. + +"Oh, yes," replied Natasha. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +During the entr'acte a whiff of cold air came into Helene's box, the +door opened, and Anatole entered, stooping and trying not to brush +against anyone. + +"Let me introduce my brother to you," said Helene, her eyes shifting +uneasily from Natasha to Anatole. + +Natasha turned her pretty little head toward the elegant young +officer and smiled at him over her bare shoulder. Anatole, who was +as handsome at close quarters as at a distance, sat down beside her +and told her he had long wished to have this happiness--ever since the +Naryshkins' ball in fact, at which he had had the well-remembered +pleasure of seeing her. Kuragin was much more sensible and simple with +women than among men. He talked boldly and naturally, and Natasha +was strangely and agreeably struck by the fact that there was +nothing formidable in this man about whom there was so much talk, +but that on the contrary his smile was most naive, cheerful, and +good-natured. + +Kuragin asked her opinion of the performance and told her how at a +previous performance Semenova had fallen down on the stage. + +"And do you know, Countess," he said, suddenly addressing her as +an old, familiar acquaintance, "we are getting up a costume +tournament; you ought to take part in it! It will be great fun. We +shall all meet at the Karagins'! Please come! No! Really, eh?" said +he. + +While saying this he never removed his smiling eyes from her face, +her neck, and her bare arms. Natasha knew for certain that he was +enraptured by her. This pleased her, yet his presence made her feel +constrained and oppressed. When she was not looking at him she felt +that he was looking at her shoulders, and she involuntarily caught his +eye so that he should look into hers rather than this. But looking +into his eyes she was frightened, realizing that there was not that +barrier of modesty she had always felt between herself and other +men. She did not know how it was that within five minutes she had come +to feel herself terribly near to this man. When she turned away she +feared he might seize her from behind by her bare arm and kiss her +on the neck. They spoke of most ordinary things, yet she felt that +they were closer to one another than she had ever been to any man. +Natasha kept turning to Helene and to her father, as if asking what it +all meant, but Helene was engaged in conversation with a general and +did not answer her look, and her father's eyes said nothing but what +they always said: "Having a good time? Well, I'm glad of it!" + +During one of these moments of awkward silence when Anatole's +prominent eyes were gazing calmly and fixedly at her, Natasha, to +break the silence, asked him how he liked Moscow. She asked the +question and blushed. She felt all the time that by talking to him she +was doing something improper. Anatole smiled as though to encourage +her. + +"At first I did not like it much, because what makes a town pleasant +ce sont les jolies femmes,* isn't that so? But now I like it very much +indeed," he said, looking at her significantly. "You'll come to the +costume tournament, Countess? Do come!" and putting out his hand to +her bouquet and dropping his voice, he added, "You will be the +prettiest there. Do come, dear countess, and give me this flower as +a pledge!" + + +*Are the pretty women. + + +Natasha did not understand what he was saying any more than he did +himself, but she felt that his incomprehensible words had an +improper intention. She did not know what to say and turned away as if +she had not heard his remark. But as soon as she had turned away she +felt that he was there, behind, so close behind her. + +"How is he now? Confused? Angry? Ought I to put it right?" she asked +herself, and she could not refrain from turning round. She looked +straight into his eyes, and his nearness, self-assurance, and the +good-natured tenderness of his smile vanquished her. She smiled just +as he was doing, gazing straight into his eyes. And again she felt +with horror that no barrier lay between him and her. + +The curtain rose again. Anatole left the box, serene and gay. +Natasha went back to her father in the other box, now quite submissive +to the world she found herself in. All that was going on before her +now seemed quite natural, but on the other hand all her previous +thoughts of her betrothed, of Princess Mary, or of life in the country +did not once recur to her mind and were as if belonging to a remote +past. + +In the fourth act there was some sort of devil who sang waving his +arm about, till the boards were withdrawn from under him and he +disappeared down below. That was the only part of the fourth act +that Natasha saw. She felt agitated and tormented, and the cause of +this was Kuragin whom she could not help watching. As they were +leaving the theater Anatole came up to them, called their carriage, +and helped them in. As he was putting Natasha in he pressed her arm +above the elbow. Agitated and flushed she turned round. He was looking +at her with glittering eyes, smiling tenderly. + + +Only after she had reached home was Natasha able clearly to think +over what had happened to her, and suddenly remembering Prince +Andrew she was horrified, and at tea to which all had sat down after +the opera, she gave a loud exclamation, flushed, and ran out of the +room. + +"O God! I am lost!" she said to herself. "How could I let him?" +She sat for a long time hiding her flushed face in her hands trying to +realize what had happened to her, but was unable either to +understand what had happened or what she felt. Everything seemed dark, +obscure, and terrible. There in that enormous, illuminated theater +where the bare-legged Duport, in a tinsel-decorated jacket, jumped +about to the music on wet boards, and young girls and old men, and the +nearly naked Helene with her proud, calm smile, rapturously cried +"bravo!"--there in the presence of that Helene it had all seemed clear +and simple; but now, alone by herself, it was incomprehensible. +"What is it? What was that terror I felt of him? What is this +gnawing of conscience I am feeling now?" she thought. + +Only to the old countess at night in bed could Natasha have told all +she was feeling. She knew that Sonya with her severe and simple +views would either not understand it at all or would be horrified at +such a confession. So Natasha tried to solve what was torturing her by +herself. + +"Am I spoiled for Andrew's love or not?" she asked herself, and with +soothing irony replied: "What a fool I am to ask that! What did happen +to me? Nothing! I have done nothing, I didn't lead him on at all. +Nobody will know and I shall never see him again," she told herself. +"So it is plain that nothing has happened and there is nothing to +repent of, and Andrew can love me still. But why 'still?' O God, why +isn't he here?" Natasha quieted herself for a moment, but again some +instinct told her that though all this was true, and though nothing +had happened, yet the former purity of her love for Prince Andrew +had perished. And again in imagination she went over her whole +conversation with Kuragin, and again saw the face, gestures, and +tender smile of that bold handsome man when he pressed her arm. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +Anatole Kuragin was staying in Moscow because his father had sent +him away from Petersburg, where he had been spending twenty thousand +rubles a year in cash, besides running up debts for as much more, +which his creditors demanded from his father. + +His father announced to him that he would now pay half his debts for +the last time, but only on condition that he went to Moscow as +adjutant to the commander in chief--a post his father had procured for +him--and would at last try to make a good match there. He indicated to +him Princess Mary and Julie Karagina. + +Anatole consented and went to Moscow, where he put up at Pierre's +house. Pierre received him unwillingly at first, but got used to him +after a while, sometimes even accompanied him on his carousals, and +gave him money under the guise of loans. + +As Shinshin had remarked, from the time of his arrival Anatole had +turned the heads of the Moscow ladies, especially by the fact that +he slighted them and plainly preferred the gypsy girls and French +actresses--with the chief of whom, Mademoiselle George, he was said to +be on intimate relations. He had never missed a carousal at +Danilov's or other Moscow revelers', drank whole nights through, +outvying everyone else, and was at all the balls and parties of the +best society. There was talk of his intrigues with some of the ladies, +and he flirted with a few of them at the balls. But he did not run +after the unmarried girls, especially the rich heiresses who were most +of them plain. There was a special reason for this, as he had got +married two years before--a fact known only to his most intimate +friends. At that time while with his regiment in Poland, a Polish +landowner of small means had forced him to marry his daughter. Anatole +had very soon abandoned his wife and, for a payment which he agreed to +send to his father-in-law, had arranged to be free to pass himself off +as a bachelor. + +Anatole was always content with his position, with himself, and with +others. He was instinctively and thoroughly convinced that was +impossible for him to live otherwise than as he did and that he had +never in his life done anything base. He was incapable of +considering how his actions might affect others or what the +consequences of this or that action of his might be. He was +convinced that, as a duck is so made that it must live in water, so +God had made him such that he must spend thirty thousand rubles a year +and always occupy a prominent position in society. He believed this so +firmly that others, looking at him, were persuaded of it too and did +not refuse him either a leading place in society or money, which he +borrowed from anyone and everyone and evidently would not repay. + +He was not a gambler, at any rate he did not care about winning. +He was not vain. He did not mind what people thought of him. Still +less could he be accused of ambition. More than once he had vexed +his father by spoiling his own career, and he laughed at +distinctions of all kinds. He was not mean, and did not refuse +anyone who asked of him. All he cared about was gaiety and women, +and as according to his ideas there was nothing dishonorable in +these tastes, and he was incapable of considering what the +gratification of his tastes entailed for others, he honestly +considered himself irreproachable, sincerely despised rogues and bad +people, and with a tranquil conscience carried his head high. + +Rakes, those male Magdalenes, have a secret feeling of innocence +similar to that which female Magdalenes have, based on the same hope +of forgiveness. "All will be forgiven her, for she loved much; and all +will be forgiven him, for he enjoyed much." + +Dolokhov, who had reappeared that year in Moscow after his exile and +his Persian adventures, and was leading a life of luxury, gambling, +and dissipation, associated with his old Petersburg comrade Kuragin +and made use of him for his own ends. + +Anatole was sincerely fond of Dolokhov for his cleverness and +audacity. Dolokhov, who needed Anatole Kuragin's name, position, and +connections as a bait to draw rich young men into his gambling set, +made use of him and amused himself at his expense without letting +the other feel it. Apart from the advantage he derived from Anatole, +the very process of dominating another's will was in itself a +pleasure, a habit, and a necessity to Dolokhov. + +Natasha had made a strong impression on Kuragin. At supper after the +opera he described to Dolokhov with the air of a connoisseur the +attractions of her arms, shoulders, feet, and hair and expressed his +intention of making love to her. Anatole had no notion and was +incapable of considering what might come of such love-making, as he +never had any notion of the outcome of any of his actions. + +"She's first-rate, my dear fellow, but not for us," replied +Dolokhov. + +"I will tell my sister to ask her to dinner," said Anatole. "Eh?" + +"You'd better wait till she's married...." + +"You know, I adore little girls, they lose their heads at once," +pursued Anatole. + +"You have been caught once already by a 'little girl,'" said +Dolokhov who knew of Kuragin's marriage. "Take care!" + +"Well, that can't happen twice! Eh?" said Anatole, with a +good-humored laugh. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The day after the opera the Rostovs went nowhere and nobody came +to see them. Marya Dmitrievna talked to the count about something +which they concealed from Natasha. Natasha guessed they were talking +about the old prince and planning something, and this disquieted and +offended her. She was expecting Prince Andrew any moment and twice +that day sent a manservant to the Vozdvizhenka to ascertain whether he +had come. He had not arrived. She suffered more now than during her +first days in Moscow. To her impatience and pining for him were now +added the unpleasant recollection of her interview with Princess +Mary and the old prince, and a fear and anxiety of which she did not +understand the cause. She continually fancied that either he would +never come or that something would happen to her before he came. She +could no longer think of him by herself calmly and continuously as she +had done before. As soon as she began to think of him, the +recollection of the old prince, of Princess Mary, of the theater, +and of Kuragin mingled with her thoughts. The question again presented +itself whether she was not guilty, whether she had not already +broken faith with Prince Andrew, and again she found herself recalling +to the minutest detail every word, every gesture, and every shade in +the play of expression on the face of the man who had been able to +arouse in her such an incomprehensible and terrifying feeling. To +the family Natasha seemed livelier than usual, but she was far less +tranquil and happy than before. + +On Sunday morning Marya Dmitrievna invited her visitors to Mass at +her parish church--the Church of the Assumption built over the +graves of victims of the plague. + +"I don't like those fashionable churches," she said, evidently +priding herself on her independence of thought. "God is the same every +where. We have an excellent priest, he conducts the service decently +and with dignity, and the deacon is the same. What holiness is there +in giving concerts in the choir? I don't like it, it's just +self-indulgence!" + +Marya Dmitrievna liked Sundays and knew how to keep them. Her +whole house was scrubbed and cleaned on Saturdays; neither she nor the +servants worked, and they all wore holiday dress and went to church. +At her table there were extra dishes at dinner, and the servants had +vodka and roast goose or suckling pig. But in nothing in the house was +the holiday so noticeable as in Marya Dmitrievna's broad, stern +face, which on that day wore an invariable look of solemn festivity. + +After Mass, when they had finished their coffee in the dining room +where the loose covers had been removed from the furniture, a +servant announced that the carriage was ready, and Marya Dmitrievna +rose with a stern air. She wore her holiday shawl, in which she paid +calls, and announced that she was going to see Prince Nicholas +Bolkonski to have an explanation with him about Natasha. + +After she had gone, a dressmaker from Madame Suppert-Roguet waited +on the Rostovs, and Natasha, very glad of this diversion, having +shut herself into a room adjoining the drawing room, occupied +herself trying on the new dresses. Just as she had put on a bodice +without sleeves and only tacked together, and was turning her head +to see in the glass how the back fitted, she heard in the drawing room +the animated sounds of her father's voice and another's--a woman's- +that made her flush. It was Helene. Natasha had not time to take off +the bodice before the door opened and Countess Bezukhova, dressed in a +purple velvet gown with a high collar, came into the room beaming with +good-humored amiable smiles. + +"Oh, my enchantress!" she cried to the blushing Natasha. +"Charming! No, this is really beyond anything, my dear count," said +she to Count Rostov who had followed her in. "How can you live in +Moscow and go nowhere? No, I won't let you off! Mademoiselle George +will recite at my house tonight and there'll be some people, and if +you don't bring your lovely girls--who are prettier than +Mademoiselle George--I won't know you! My husband is away in Tver or I +would send him to fetch you. You must come. You positively must! +Between eight and nine." + +She nodded to the dressmaker, whom she knew and who had curtsied +respectfully to her, and seated herself in an armchair beside the +looking glass, draping the folds of her velvet dress picturesquely. +She did not cease chattering good-naturedly and gaily, continually +praising Natasha's beauty. She looked at Natasha's dresses and praised +them, as well as a new dress of her own made of "metallic gauze," +which she had received from Paris, and advised Natasha to have one +like it. + +"But anything suits you, my charmer!" she remarked. + +A smile of pleasure never left Natasha's face. She felt happy and as +if she were blossoming under the praise of this dear Countess +Bezukhova who had formerly seemed to her so unapproachable and +important and was now so kind to her. Natasha brightened up and felt +almost in love with this woman, who was so beautiful and so kind. +Helene for her part was sincerely delighted with Natasha and wished to +give her a good time. Anatole had asked her to bring him and Natasha +together, and she was calling on the Rostovs for that purpose. The +idea of throwing her brother and Natasha together amused her. + +Though at one time, in Petersburg, she had been annoyed with Natasha +for drawing Boris away, she did not think of that now, and in her +own way heartily wished Natasha well. As she was leaving the Rostovs +she called her protegee aside. + +"My brother dined with me yesterday--we nearly died of laughter- +he ate nothing and kept sighing for you, my charmer! He is madly, +quite madly, in love with you, my dear." + +Natasha blushed scarlet when she heard this. + +"How she blushes, how she blushes, my pretty!" said Helene. "You +must certainly come. If you love somebody, my charmer, that is not a +reason to shut yourself up. Even if you are engaged, I am sure your +fiance would wish you to go into society rather than be bored to +death." + +"So she knows I am engaged, and she and her husband Pierre--that +good Pierre--have talked and laughed about this. So it's all right." +And again, under Helene's influence, what had seemed terrible now +seemed simple and natural. "And she is such a grande dame, so kind, +and evidently likes me so much. And why not enjoy myself?" thought +Natasha, gazing at Helene with wide-open, wondering eyes. + +Marya Dmitrievna came back to dinner taciturn and serious, having +evidently suffered a defeat at the old prince's. She was still too +agitated by the encounter to be able to talk of the affair calmly. +In answer to the count's inquiries she replied that things were all +right and that she would tell about it next day. On hearing of +Countess Bezukhova's visit and the invitation for that evening, +Marya Dmitrievna remarked: + +"I don't care to have anything to do with Bezukhova and don't advise +you to; however, if you've promised--go. It will divert your +thoughts," she added, addressing Natasha. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Count Rostov took the girls to Countess Bezukhova's. There were a +good many people there, but nearly all strangers to Natasha. Count +Rostov was displeased to see that the company consisted almost +entirely of men and women known for the freedom of their conduct. +Mademoiselle George was standing in a corner of the drawing room +surrounded by young men. There were several Frenchmen present, among +them Metivier who from the time Helene reached Moscow had been an +intimate in her house. The count decided not to sit down to cards or +let his girls out of his sight and to get away as soon as Mademoiselle +George's performance was over. + +Anatole was at the door, evidently on the lookout for the Rostovs. +Immediately after greeting the count he went up to Natasha and +followed her. As soon as she saw him she was seized by the same +feeling she had had at the opera--gratified vanity at his admiration +of her and fear at the absence of a moral barrier between them. + +Helene welcomed Natasha delightedly and was loud in admiration of +her beauty and her dress. Soon after their arrival Mademoiselle George +went out of the room to change her costume. In the drawing room people +began arranging the chairs and taking their seats. Anatole moved a +chair for Natasha and was about to sit down beside her, but the count, +who never lost sight of her, took the seat himself. Anatole sat down +behind her. + +Mademoiselle George, with her bare, fat, dimpled arms, and a red +shawl draped over one shoulder, came into the space left vacant for +her, and assumed an unnatural pose. Enthusiastic whispering was +audible. + +Mademoiselle George looked sternly and gloomily at the audience +and began reciting some French verses describing her guilty love for +her son. In some places she raised her voice, in others she whispered, +lifting her head triumphantly; sometimes she paused and uttered hoarse +sounds, rolling her eyes. + +"Adorable! divine! delicious!" was heard from every side. + +Natasha looked at the fat actress, but neither saw nor heard nor +understood anything of what went on before her. She only felt +herself again completely borne away into this strange senseless world- +so remote from her old world--a world in which it was impossible to +know what was good or bad, reasonable or senseless. Behind her sat +Anatole, and conscious of his proximity she experienced a frightened +sense of expectancy. + +After the first monologue the whole company rose and surrounded +Mademoiselle George, expressing their enthusiasm. + +"How beautiful she is!" Natasha remarked to her father who had +also risen and was moving through the crowd toward the actress. + +"I don't think so when I look at you!" said Anatole, following +Natasha. He said this at a moment when she alone could hear him. +"You are enchanting... from the moment I saw you I have never +ceased..." + +"Come, come, Natasha!" said the count, as he turned back for his +daughter. "How beautiful she is!" Natasha without saying anything +stepped up to her father and looked at him with surprised inquiring +eyes. + +After giving several recitations, Mademoiselle George left, and +Countess Bezukhova asked her visitors into the ballroom. + +The count wished to go home, but Helene entreated him not to spoil +her improvised ball, and the Rostovs stayed on. Anatole asked +Natasha for a valse and as they danced he pressed her waist and hand +and told her she was bewitching and that he loved her. During the +ecossaise, which she also danced with him, Anatole said nothing when +they happened to be by themselves, but merely gazed at her. Natasha +lifted her frightened eyes to him, but there was such confident +tenderness in his affectionate look and smile that she could not, +whilst looking at him, say what she had to say. She lowered her eyes. + +"Don't say such things to me. I am betrothed and love another," +she said rapidly.... She glanced at him. + +Anatole was not upset or pained by what she had said. + +"Don't speak to me of that! What can I do?" said he. "I tell you I +am madly, madly, in love with you! Is it my fault that you are +enchanting?... It's our turn to begin." + +Natasha, animated and excited, looked about her with wide-open +frightened eyes and seemed merrier than usual. She understood hardly +anything that went on that evening. They danced the ecossaise and +the Grossvater. Her father asked her to come home, but she begged to +remain. Wherever she went and whomever she was speaking to, she felt +his eyes upon her. Later on she recalled how she had asked her +father to let her go to the dressing room to rearrange her dress, that +Helene had followed her and spoken laughingly of her brother's love, +and that she again met Anatole in the little sitting room. Helene +had disappeared leaving them alone, and Anatole had taken her hand and +said in a tender voice: + +"I cannot come to visit you but is it possible that I shall never +see you? I love you madly. Can I never...?" and, blocking her path, he +brought his face close to hers. + +His large, glittering, masculine eyes were so close to hers that she +saw nothing but them. + +"Natalie?" he whispered inquiringly while she felt her hands being +painfully pressed. "Natalie?" + +"I don't understand. I have nothing to say," her eyes replied. + +Burning lips were pressed to hers, and at the same instant she +felt herself released, and Helene's footsteps and the rustle of her +dress were heard in the room. Natasha looked round at her, and then, +red and trembling, threw a frightened look of inquiry at Anatole and +moved toward the door. + +"One word, just one, for God's sake!" cried Anatole. + +She paused. She so wanted a word from him that would explain to +her what had happened and to which she could find no answer. + +"Natalie, just a word, only one!" he kept repeating, evidently not +knowing what to say and he repeated it till Helene came up to them. + +Helene returned with Natasha to the drawing room. The Rostovs went +away without staying for supper. + +After reaching home Natasha did not sleep all night. She was +tormented by the insoluble question whether she loved Anatole or +Prince Andrew. She loved Prince Andrew--she remembered distinctly +how deeply she loved him. But she also loved Anatole, of that there +was no doubt. "Else how could all this have happened?" thought she. +"If, after that, I could return his smile when saying good-by, if I +was able to let it come to that, it means that I loved him from the +first. It means that he is kind, noble, and splendid, and I could +not help loving him. What am I to do if I love him and the other one +too?" she asked herself, unable to find an answer to these terrible +questions. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Morning came with its cares and bustle. Everyone got up and began to +move about and talk, dressmakers came again. Marya Dmitrievna +appeared, and they were called to breakfast. Natasha kept looking +uneasily at everybody with wide-open eyes, as if wishing to +intercept every glance directed toward her, and tried to appear the +same as usual. + +After breakfast, which was her best time, Marya Dmitrievna sat +down in her armchair and called Natasha and the count to her. + +"Well, friends, I have now thought the whole matter over and this is +my advice," she began. "Yesterday, as you know, I went to see Prince +Bolkonski. Well, I had a talk with him.... He took it into his head to +begin shouting, but I am not one to be shouted down. I said what I had +to say!" + +"Well, and he?" asked the count. + +"He? He's crazy... he did not want to listen. But what's the use +of talking? As it is we have worn the poor girl out," said Marya +Dmitrievna. "My advice to you is finish your business and go back home +to Otradnoe... and wait there." + +"Oh, no!" exclaimed Natasha. + +"Yes, go back," said Marya Dmitrievna, "and wait there. If your +betrothed comes here now--there will be no avoiding a quarrel; but +alone with the old man he will talk things over and then come on to +you." + +Count Rostov approved of this suggestion, appreciating its +reasonableness. If the old man came round it would be all the better +to visit him in Moscow or at Bald Hills later on; and if not, the +wedding, against his wishes, could only be arranged at Otradnoe. + +"That is perfectly true. And I am sorry I went to see him and took +her," said the old count. + +"No, why be sorry? Being here, you had to pay your respects. But +if he won't--that's his affair," said Marya Dmitrievna, looking for +something in her reticule. "Besides, the trousseau is ready, so +there is nothing to wait for; and what is not ready I'll send after +you. Though I don't like letting you go, it is the best way. So go, +with God's blessing!" + +Having found what she was looking for in the reticule she handed +it to Natasha. It was a letter from Princess Mary. + +"She has written to you. How she torments herself, poor thing! She's +afraid you might think that she does not like you." + +"But she doesn't like me," said Natasha. + +"Don't talk nonsense!" cried Marya Dmitrievna. + +"I shan't believe anyone, I know she doesn't like me," replied +Natasha boldly as she took the letter, and her face expressed a cold +and angry resolution that caused Marya Dmitrievna to look at her +more intently and to frown. + +"Don't answer like that, my good girl!" she said. "What I say is +true! Write an answer!" Natasha did not reply and went to her own room +to read Princess Mary's letter. + +Princess Mary wrote that she was in despair at the +misunderstanding that had occurred between them. Whatever her father's +feelings might be, she begged Natasha to believe that she could not +help loving her as the one chosen by her brother, for whose +happiness she was ready to sacrifice everything. + +"Do not think, however," she wrote, "that my father is +ill-disposed toward you. He is an invalid and an old man who must be +forgiven; but he is good and magnanimous and will love her who makes +his son happy." Princess Mary went on to ask Natasha to fix a time +when she could see her again. + +After reading the letter Natasha sat down at the writing table to +answer it. "Dear Princess," she wrote in French quickly and +mechanically, and then paused. What more could she write after all +that had happened the evening before? "Yes, yes! All that has +happened, and now all is changed," she thought as she sat with the +letter she had begun before her. "Must I break off with him? Must I +really? That's awful..." and to escape from these dreadful thoughts +she went to Sonya and began sorting patterns with her. + +After dinner Natasha went to her room and again took up Princess +Mary's letter. "Can it be that it is all over?" she thought. "Can it +be that all this has happened so quickly and has destroyed all that +went before?" She recalled her love for Prince Andrew in all its +former strength, and at the same time felt that she loved Kuragin. She +vividly pictured herself as Prince Andrew's wife, and the scenes of +happiness with him she had so often repeated in her imagination, and +at the same time, aglow with excitement, recalled every detail of +yesterday's interview with Anatole. + +"Why could that not be as well?" she sometimes asked herself in +complete bewilderment. "Only so could I be completely happy; but now I +have to choose, and I can't be happy without either of them. Only," +she thought, "to tell Prince Andrew what has happened or to hide it +from him are both equally impossible. But with that one nothing is +spoiled. But am I really to abandon forever the joy of Prince Andrew's +love, in which I have lived so long?" + +"Please, Miss!" whispered a maid entering the room with a mysterious +air. "A man told me to give you this-" and she handed Natasha a +letter. + +"Only, for Christ's sake..." the girl went on, as Natasha, without +thinking, mechanically broke the seal and read a love letter from +Anatole, of which, without taking in a word, she understood only +that it was a letter from him--from the man she loved. Yes, she +loved him, or else how could that have happened which had happened? +And how could she have a love letter from him in her hand? + +With trembling hands Natasha held that passionate love letter +which Dolokhov had composed for Anatole, and as she read it she +found in it an echo of all that she herself imagined she was feeling. + +"Since yesterday evening my fate has been sealed; to be loved by you +or to die. There is no other way for me," the letter began. Then he +went on to say that he knew her parents would not give her to him--for +this there were secret reasons he could reveal only to her--but that +if she loved him she need only say the word yes, and no human power +could hinder their bliss. Love would conquer all. He would steal her +away and carry her off to the ends of the earth. + +"Yes, yes! I love him!" thought Natasha, reading the letter for +the twentieth time and finding some peculiarly deep meaning in each +word of it. + +That evening Marya Dmitrievna was going to the Akharovs' and +proposed to take the girls with her. Natasha, pleading a headache, +remained at home. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +On returning late in the evening Sonya went to Natasha's room, and +to her surprise found her still dressed and asleep on the sofa. Open +on the table, beside her lay Anatole's letter. Sonya picked it up +and read it. + +As she read she glanced at the sleeping Natasha, trying to find in +her face an explanation of what she was reading, but did not find +it. Her face was calm, gentle, and happy. Clutching her breast to keep +herself from choking, Sonya, pale and trembling with fear and +agitation, sat down in an armchair and burst into tears. + +"How was it I noticed nothing? How could it go so far? Can she +have left off loving Prince Andrew? And how could she let Kuragin go +to such lengths? He is a deceiver and a villain, that's plain! What +will Nicholas, dear noble Nicholas, do when he hears of it? So this is +the meaning of her excited, resolute, unnatural look the day before +yesterday, yesterday, and today," thought Sonya. "But it can't be that +she loves him! She probably opened the letter without knowing who it +was from. Probably she is offended by it. She could not do such a +thing!" + +Sonya wiped away her tears and went up to Natasha, again scanning +her face. + +"Natasha!" she said, just audibly. + +Natasha awoke and saw Sonya. + +"Ah, you're back?" + +And with the decision and tenderness that often come at the moment +of awakening, she embraced her friend, but noticing Sonya's look of +embarrassment, her own face expressed confusion and suspicion. + +"Sonya, you've read that letter?" she demanded. + +"Yes," answered Sonya softly. + +Natasha smiled rapturously. + +"No, Sonya, I can't any longer!" she said. "I can't hide it from you +any longer. You know, we love one another! Sonya, darling, he +writes... Sonya..." + +Sonya stared open-eyed at Natasha, unable to believe her ears. + +"And Bolkonski?" she asked. + +"Ah, Sonya, if you only knew how happy I am!" cried Natasha. "You +don't know what love is...." + +"But, Natasha, can that be all over?" + +Natasha looked at Sonya with wide-open eyes as if she could not +grasp the question. + +"Well, then, are you refusing Prince Andrew?" said Sonya. + +"Oh, you don't understand anything! Don't talk nonsense, just +listen!" said Natasha, with momentary vexation. + +"But I can't believe it," insisted Sonya. "I don't understand. How +is it you have loved a man for a whole year and suddenly... Why, you +have only seen him three times! Natasha, I don't believe you, you're +joking! In three days to forget everything and so..." + +"Three days?" said Natasha. "It seems to me I've loved him a hundred +years. It seems to me that I have never loved anyone before. You can't +understand it.... Sonya, wait a bit, sit here," and Natasha embraced +and kissed her. + +"I had heard that it happens like this, and you must have heard it +too, but it's only now that I feel such love. It's not the same as +before. As soon as I saw him I felt he was my master and I his +slave, and that I could not help loving him. Yes, his slave! +Whatever he orders I shall do. You don't understand that. What can I +do? What can I do, Sonya?" cried Natasha with a happy yet frightened +expression. + +"But think what you are doing," cried Sonya. "I can't leave it +like this. This secret correspondence... How could you let him go so +far?" she went on, with a horror and disgust she could hardly conceal. + +"I told you that I have no will," Natasha replied. "Why can't you +understand? I love him!" + +"Then I won't let it come to that... I shall tell!" cried Sonya, +bursting into tears. + +"What do you mean? For God's sake... If you tell, you are my enemy!" +declared Natasha. "You want me to be miserable, you want us to be +separated...." + +When she saw Natasha's fright, Sonya shed tears of shame and pity +for her friend. + +"But what has happened between you?" she asked. "What has he said to +you? Why doesn't he come to the house?" + +Natasha did not answer her questions. + +"For God's sake, Sonya, don't tell anyone, don't torture me," +Natasha entreated. "Remember no one ought to interfere in such +matters! I have confided in you...." + +"But why this secrecy? Why doesn't he come to the house?" asked +Sonya. "Why doesn't he openly ask for your hand? You know Prince +Andrew gave you complete freedom--if it is really so; but I don't +believe it! Natasha, have you considered what these secret reasons can +be?" + +Natasha looked at Sonya with astonishment. Evidently this question +presented itself to her mind for the first time and she did not know +how to answer it. + +"I don't know what the reasons are. But there must be reasons!" + +Sonya sighed and shook her head incredulously. + +"If there were reasons..." she began. + +But Natasha, guessing her doubts, interrupted her in alarm. + +"Sonya, one can't doubt him! One can't, one can't! Don't you +understand?" she cried. + +"Does he love you?" + +"Does he love me?" Natasha repeated with a smile of pity at her +friend's lack of comprehension. "Why, you have read his letter and you +have seen him." + +"But if he is dishonorable?" + +"He! dishonorable? If you only knew!" exclaimed Natasha. + +"If he is an honorable man he should either declare his intentions +or cease seeing you; and if you won't do this, I will. I will write to +him, and I will tell Papa!" said Sonya resolutely. + +"But I can't live without him!" cried Natasha. + +"Natasha, I don't understand you. And what are you saying! Think +of your father and of Nicholas." + +"I don't want anyone, I don't love anyone but him. How dare you +say he is dishonorable? Don't you know that I love him?" screamed +Natasha. "Go away, Sonya! I don't want to quarrel with you, but go, +for God's sake go! You see how I am suffering!" Natasha cried angrily, +in a voice of despair and repressed irritation. Sonya burst into +sobs and ran from the room. + +Natasha went to the table and without a moment's reflection wrote +that answer to Princess Mary which she had been unable to write all +the morning. In this letter she said briefly that all their +misunderstandings were at an end; that availing herself of the +magnanimity of Prince Andrew who when he went abroad had given her her +freedom, she begged Princess Mary to forget everything and forgive her +if she had been to blame toward her, but that she could not be his wife. +At that moment this all seemed quite easy, simple, and clear to Natasha. + + +On Friday the Rostovs were to return to the country, but on +Wednesday the count went with the prospective purchaser to his +estate near Moscow. + +On the day the count left, Sonya and Natasha were invited to a big +dinner party at the Karagins', and Marya Dmitrievna took them there. +At that party Natasha again met Anatole, and Sonya noticed that she +spoke to him, trying not to be overheard, and that all through +dinner she was more agitated than ever. When they got home Natasha was +the first to begin the explanation Sonya expected. + +"There, Sonya, you were talking all sorts of nonsense about him," +Natasha began in a mild voice such as children use when they wish to +be praised. "We have had an explanation today." + +"Well, what happened? What did he say? Natasha, how glad I am you're +not angry with me! Tell me everything--the whole truth. What did he +say?" + +Natasha became thoughtful. + +"Oh, Sonya, if you knew him as I do! He said... He asked me what I +had promised Bolkonski. He was glad I was free to refuse him." + +Sonya sighed sorrowfully. + +"But you haven't refused Bolkonski?" said she. + +"Perhaps I have. Perhaps all is over between me and Bolkonski. Why +do you think so badly of me?" + +"I don't think anything, only I don't understand this..." + +"Wait a bit, Sonya, you'll understand everything. You'll see what +a man he is! Now don't think badly of me or of him. I don't think +badly of anyone: I love and pity everybody. But what am I to do?" + +Sonya did not succumb to the tender tone Natasha used toward her. +The more emotional and ingratiating the expression of Natasha's face +became, the more serious and stern grew Sonya's. + +"Natasha," said she, "you asked me not to speak to you, and I +haven't spoken, but now you yourself have begun. I don't trust him, +Natasha. Why this secrecy?" + +"Again, again!" interrupted Natasha. + +"Natasha, I am afraid for you!" + +"Afraid of what?" + +"I am afraid you're going to your ruin," said Sonya resolutely, +and was herself horrified at what she had said. + +Anger again showed in Natasha's face. + +"And I'll go to my ruin, I will, as soon as possible! It's not +your business! It won't be you, but I, who'll suffer. Leave me +alone, leave me alone! I hate you!" + +"Natasha!" moaned Sonya, aghast. + +"I hate you, I hate you! You're my enemy forever!" And Natasha ran +out of the room. + +Natasha did not speak to Sonya again and avoided her. With the +same expression of agitated surprise and guilt she went about the +house, taking up now one occupation, now another, and at once +abandoning them. + +Hard as it was for Sonya, she watched her friend and did not let her +out of her sight. + +The day before the count was to return, Sonya noticed that Natasha +sat by the drawingroom window all the morning as if expecting +something and that she made a sign to an officer who drove past, +whom Sonya took to be Anatole. + +Sonya began watching her friend still more attentively and noticed +that at dinner and all that evening Natasha was in a strange and +unnatural state. She answered questions at random, began sentences she +did not finish, and laughed at everything. + +After tea Sonya noticed a housemaid at Natasha's door timidly +waiting to let her pass. She let the girl go in, and then listening at +the door learned that another letter had been delivered. + +Then suddenly it became clear to Sonya that Natasha had some +dreadful plan for that evening. Sonya knocked at her door. Natasha did +not let her in. + +"She will run away with him!" thought Sonya. "She is capable of +anything. There was something particularly pathetic and resolute in +her face today. She cried as she said good-by to Uncle," Sonya +remembered. "Yes, that's it, she means to elope with him, but what +am I to do?" thought she, recalling all the signs that clearly +indicated that Natasha had some terrible intention. "The count is +away. What am I to do? Write to Kuragin demanding an explanation? +But what is there to oblige him to reply? Write to Pierre, as Prince +Andrew asked me to in case of some misfortune?... But perhaps she +really has already refused Bolkonski--she sent a letter to Princess +Mary yesterday. And Uncle is away...." To tell Marya Dmitrievna who +had such faith in Natasha seemed to Sonya terrible. "Well, anyway," +thought Sonya as she stood in the dark passage, "now or never I must +prove that I remember the family's goodness to me and that I love +Nicholas. Yes! If I don't sleep for three nights I'll not leave this +passage and will hold her back by force and will and not let the +family be disgraced," thought she. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Anatole had lately moved to Dolokhov's. The plan for Natalie +Rostova's abduction had been arranged and the preparations made by +Dolokhov a few days before, and on the day that Sonya, after listening +at Natasha's door, resolved to safeguard her, it was to have been +put into execution. Natasha had promised to come out to Kuragin at the +back porch at ten that evening. Kuragin was to put her into a troyka +he would have ready and to drive her forty miles to the village of +Kamenka, where an unfrocked priest was in readiness to perform a +marriage ceremony over them. At Kamenka a relay of horses was to +wait which would take them to the Warsaw highroad, and from there they +would hasten abroad with post horses. + +Anatole had a passport, an order for post horses, ten thousand +rubles he had taken from his sister and another ten thousand +borrowed with Dolokhov's help. + +Two witnesses for the mock marriage--Khvostikov, a retired petty +official whom Dolokhov made use of in his gambling transactions, and +Makarin, a retired hussar, a kindly, weak fellow who had an +unbounded affection for Kuragin--were sitting at tea in Dolokhov's +front room. + +In his large study, the walls of which were hung to the ceiling with +Persian rugs, bearskins, and weapons, sat Dolokhov in a traveling +cloak and high boots, at an open desk on which lay abacus and some +bundles of paper money. Anatole, with uniform unbuttoned, walked to +and fro from the room where the witnesses were sitting, through the +study to the room behind, where his French valet and others were +packing the last of his things. Dolokhov was counting the money and +noting something down. + +"Well," he said, "Khvostikov must have two thousand." + +"Give it to him, then," said Anatole. + +"Makarka" (their name for Makarin) "will go through fire and water +for you for nothing. So here are our accounts all settled," said +Dolokhov, showing him the memorandum. "Is that right?" + +"Yes, of course," returned Anatole, evidently not listening to +Dolokhov and looking straight before him with a smile that did not +leave his face. + +Dolokhov banged down the or of his and turned to Anatole with an +ironic smile: + +"Do you know? You'd really better drop it all. There's still time!" + +"Fool," retorted Anatole. "Don't talk nonsense! If you only +knew... it's the devil knows what!" + +"No, really, give it up!" said Dolokhov. "I am speaking seriously. +It's no joke, this plot you've hatched." + +"What, teasing again? Go to the devil! Eh?" said Anatole, making a +grimace. "Really it's no time for your stupid jokes," and he left +the room. + +Dolokhov smiled contemptuously and condescendingly when Anatole +had gone out. + +"You wait a bit," he called after him. "I'm not joking, I'm +talking sense. Come here, come here!" + +Anatole returned and looked at Dolokhov, trying to give him his +attention and evidently submitting to him involuntarily. + +"Now listen to me. I'm telling you this for the last time. Why +should I joke about it? Did I hinder you? Who arranged everything +for you? Who found the priest and got the passport? Who raised the +money? I did it all." + +"Well, thank you for it. Do you think I am not grateful?" And +Anatole sighed and embraced Dolokhov. + +"I helped you, but all the same I must tell you the truth; it is a +dangerous business, and if you think about it--a stupid business. +Well, you'll carry her off--all right! Will they let it stop at +that? It will come out that you're already married. Why, they'll +have you in the criminal court...." + +"Oh, nonsense, nonsense!" Anatole ejaculated and again made a +grimace. "Didn't I explain to you? What?" And Anatole, with the +partiality dull-witted people have for any conclusion they have +reached by their own reasoning, repeated the argument he had already +put to Dolokhov a hundred times. "Didn't I explain to you that I +have come to this conclusion: if this marriage is invalid," he went +on, crooking one finger, "then I have nothing to answer for; but if it +is valid, no matter! Abroad no one will know anything about it. +Isn't that so? And don't talk to me, don't, don't." + +"Seriously, you'd better drop it! You'll only get yourself into a +mess!" + +"Go to the devil!" cried Anatole and, clutching his hair, left the +room, but returned at once and dropped into an armchair in front of +Dolokhov with his feet turned under him. "It's the very devil! What? +Feel how it beats!" He took Dolokhov's hand and put it on his heart. +"What a foot, my dear fellow! What a glance! A goddess!" he added in +French. "What?" + +Dolokhov with a cold smile and a gleam in his handsome insolent eyes +looked at him--evidently wishing to get some more amusement out of +him. + +"Well and when the money's gone, what then?" + +"What then? Eh?" repeated Anatole, sincerely perplexed by a +thought of the future. "What then?... Then, I don't know.... But why +talk nonsense!" He glanced at his watch. "It's time!" + +Anatole went into the back room. + +"Now then! Nearly ready? You're dawdling!" he shouted to the +servants. + +Dolokhov put away the money, called a footman whom he ordered to +bring something for them to eat and drink before the journey, and went +into the room where Khvostikov and Makarin were sitting. + +Anatole lay on the sofa in the study leaning on his elbow and +smiling pensively, while his handsome lips muttered tenderly to +himself. + +"Come and eat something. Have a drink!" Dolokhov shouted to him from +the other room. + +"I don't want to," answered Anatole continuing to smile. + +"Come! Balaga is here." + +Anatole rose and went into the dining room. Balaga was a famous +troyka driver who had known Dolokhov and Anatole some six years and +had given them good service with his troykas. More than once when +Anatole's regiment was stationed at Tver he had taken him from Tver in +the evening, brought him to Moscow by daybreak, and driven him back +again the next night. More than once he had enabled Dolokhov to escape +when pursued. More than once he had driven them through the town +with gypsies and "ladykins" as he called the cocottes. More than +once in their service he had run over pedestrians and upset vehicles +in the streets of Moscow and had always been protected from the +consequences by "my gentlemen" as he called them. He had ruined more +than one horse in their service. More than once they had beaten him, +and more than once they had made him drunk on champagne and Madeira, +which he loved; and he knew more than one thing about each of them +which would long ago have sent an ordinary man to Siberia. They +often called Balaga into their orgies and made him drink and dance +at the gypsies', and more than one thousand rubles of their money +had passed through his hands. In their service he risked his skin +and his life twenty times a year, and in their service had lost more +horses than the money he had from them would buy. But he liked them; +liked that mad driving at twelve miles an hour, liked upsetting a +driver or running down a pedestrian, and flying at full gallop through +the Moscow streets. He liked to hear those wild, tipsy shouts behind +him: "Get on! Get on!" when it was impossible to go any faster. He +liked giving a painful lash on the neck to some peasant who, more dead +than alive, was already hurrying out of his way. "Real gentlemen!" +he considered them. + +Anatole and Dolokhov liked Balaga too for his masterly driving and +because he liked the things they liked. With others Balaga +bargained, charging twenty-five rubles for a two hours' drive, and +rarely drove himself, generally letting his young men do so. But +with "his gentlemen" he always drove himself and never demanded +anything for his work. Only a couple of times a year--when he knew +from their valets that they had money in hand--he would turn up of a +morning quite sober and with a deep bow would ask them to help him. +The gentlemen always made him sit down. + +"Do help me out, Theodore Ivanych, sir," or "your excellency," he +would say. "I am quite out of horses. Let me have what you can to go +to the fair." + +And Anatole and Dolokhov, when they had money, would give him a +thousand or a couple of thousand rubles. + +Balaga was a fair-haired, short, and snub-nosed peasant of about +twenty-seven; red-faced, with a particularly red thick neck, +glittering little eyes, and a small beard. He wore a fine, +dark-blue, silk-lined cloth coat over a sheepskin. + +On entering the room now he crossed himself, turning toward the +front corner of the room, and went up to Dolokhov, holding out a +small, black hand. + +"Theodore Ivanych!" he said, bowing. + +"How d'you do, friend? Well, here he is!" + +"Good day, your excellency!" he said, again holding out his hand +to Anatole who had just come in. + +"I say, Balaga," said Anatole, putting his hands on the man's +shoulders, "do you care for me or not? Eh? Now, do me a service.... +What horses have you come with? Eh?" + +"As your messenger ordered, your special beasts," replied Balaga. + +"Well, listen, Balaga! Drive all three to death but get me there +in three hours. Eh?" + +"When they are dead, what shall I drive?" said Balaga with a wink. + +"Mind, I'll smash your face in! Don't make jokes!" cried Anatole, +suddenly rolling his eyes. + +"Why joke?" said the driver, laughing. "As if I'd grudge my +gentlemen anything! As fast as ever the horses can gallop, so fast +we'll go!" + +"Ah!" said Anatole. "Well, sit down." + +"Yes, sit down!" said Dolokhov. + +"I'll stand, Theodore Ivanych." + +"Sit down; nonsense! Have a drink!" said Anatole, and filled a large +glass of Madeira for him. + +The driver's eyes sparkled at the sight of the wine. After +refusing it for manners' sake, he drank it and wiped his mouth with +a red silk handkerchief he took out of his cap. + +"And when are we to start, your excellency?" + +"Well..." Anatole looked at his watch. "We'll start at once. Mind, +Balaga! You'll get there in time? Eh?" + +"That depends on our luck in starting, else why shouldn't we be +there in time?" replied Balaga. "Didn't we get you to Tver in seven +hours? I think you remember that, your excellency?" + +"Do you know, one Christmas I drove from Tver," said Anatole, +smilingly at the recollection and turning to Makarin who gazed +rapturously at him with wide-open eyes. "Will you believe it, Makarka, +it took one's breath away, the rate we flew. We came across a train of +loaded sleighs and drove right over two of them. Eh?" + +"Those were horses!" Balaga continued the tale. "That time I'd +harnessed two young side horses with the bay in the shafts," he went +on, turning to Dolokhov. "Will you believe it, Theodore Ivanych, those +animals flew forty miles? I couldn't hold them in, my hands grew +numb in the sharp frost so that I threw down the reins--'Catch hold +yourself, your excellency!' says I, and I just tumbled on the bottom +of the sleigh and sprawled there. It wasn't a case of urging them +on, there was no holding them in till we reached the place. The devils +took us there in three hours! Only the near one died of it." + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Anatole went out of the room and returned a few minutes later +wearing a fur coat girt with a silver belt, and a sable cap jauntily +set on one side and very becoming to his handsome face. Having +looked in a mirror, and standing before Dolokhov in the same pose he +had assumed before it, he lifted a glass of wine. + +"Well, good-by, Theodore. Thank you for everything and farewell!" +said Anatole. "Well, comrades and friends..." he considered for a +moment "...of my youth, farewell!" he said, turning to Makarin and the +others. + +Though they were all going with him, Anatole evidently wished to +make something touching and solemn out of this address to his +comrades. He spoke slowly in a loud voice and throwing out his chest +slightly swayed one leg. + +"All take glasses; you too, Balaga. Well, comrades and friends of my +youth, we've had our fling and lived and reveled. Eh? And now, when +shall we meet again? I am going abroad. We have had a good time--now +farewell, lads! To our health! Hurrah!..." he cried, and emptying +his glass flung it on the floor. + +"To your health!" said Balaga who also emptied his glass, and +wiped his mouth with his handkerchief. + +Makarin embraced Anatole with tears in his eyes. + +"Ah, Prince, how sorry I am to part from you! + +"Let's go. Let's go!" cried Anatole. + +Balaga was about to leave the room. + +"No, stop!" said Anatole. "Shut the door; we have first to sit down. +That's the way." + +They shut the door and all sat down. + +"Now, quick march, lads!" said Anatole, rising. + +Joseph, his valet, handed him his sabretache and saber, and they all +went out into the vestibule. + +"And where's the fur cloak?" asked Dolokhov. "Hey, Ignatka! Go to +Matrena Matrevna and ask her for the sable cloak. I have heard what +elopements are like," continued Dolokhov with a wink. "Why, she'll +rush out more dead than alive just in the things she is wearing; if +you delay at all there'll be tears and 'Papa' and 'Mamma,' and she's +frozen in a minute and must go back--but you wrap the fur cloak +round her first thing and carry her to the sleigh." + +The valet brought a woman's fox-lined cloak. + +"Fool, I told you the sable one! Hey, Matrena, the sable!" he +shouted so that his voice rang far through the rooms. + +A handsome, slim, and pale-faced gypsy girl with glittering black +eyes and curly blue-black hair, wearing a red shawl, ran out with a +sable mantle on her arm. + +"Here, I don't grudge it--take it!" she said, evidently afraid of +her master and yet regretful of her cloak. + +Dolokhov, without answering, took the cloak, threw it over +Matrena, and wrapped her up in it. + +"That's the way," said Dolokhov, "and then so!" and he turned the +collar up round her head, leaving only a little of the face uncovered. +"And then so, do you see?" and he pushed Anatole's head forward to +meet the gap left by the collar, through which Matrena's brilliant +smile was seen. + +"Well, good-by, Matrena," said Anatole, kissing her. "Ah, my +revels here are over. Remember me to Steshka. There, good-by! Good-by, +Matrena, wish me luck!" + +"Well, Prince, may God give you great luck!" said Matrena in her +gypsy accent. + +Two troykas were standing before the porch and two young drivers +were holding the horses. Balaga took his seat in the front one and +holding his elbows high arranged the reins deliberately. Anatole and +Dolokhov got in with him. Makarin, Khvostikov, and a valet seated +themselves in the other sleigh. + +"Well, are you ready?" asked Balaga. + +"Go!" he cried, twisting the reins round his hands, and the troyka +tore down the Nikitski Boulevard. + +"Tproo! Get out of the way! Hi!... Tproo!..." The shouting of Balaga +and of the sturdy young fellow seated on the box was all that could be +heard. On the Arbat Square the troyka caught against a carriage; +something cracked, shouts were heard, and the troyka flew along the +Arbat Street. + +After taking a turn along the Podnovinski Boulevard, Balaga began to +rein in, and turning back drew up at the crossing of the old +Konyusheny Street. + +The young fellow on the box jumped down to hold the horses and +Anatole and Dolokhov went along the pavement. When they reached the +gate Dolokhov whistled. The whistle was answered, and a maidservant +ran out. + +"Come into the courtyard or you'll be seen; she'll come out +directly," said she. + +Dolokhov stayed by the gate. Anatole followed the maid into the +courtyard, turned the corner, and ran up into the porch. + +He was met by Gabriel, Marya Dmitrievna's gigantic footman. + +"Come to the mistress, please," said the footman in his deep bass, +intercepting any retreat. + +"To what Mistress? Who are you?" asked Anatole in a breathless +whisper. + +"Kindly step in, my orders are to bring you in." + +"Kuragin! Come back!" shouted Dolokhov. "Betrayed! Back!" + +Dolokhov, after Anatole entered, had remained at the wicket gate and +was struggling with the yard porter who was trying to lock it. With +a last desperate effort Dolokhov pushed the porter aside, and when +Anatole ran back seized him by the arm, pulled him through the wicket, +and ran back with him to the troyka. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Marya Dmitrievna, having found Sonya weeping in the corridor, made +her confess everything, and intercepting the note to Natasha she +read it and went into Natasha's room with it in her hand. + +"You shameless good-for-nothing!" said she. "I won't hear a word." + +Pushing back Natasha who looked at her with astonished but +tearless eyes, she locked her in; and having given orders to the +yard porter to admit the persons who would be coming that evening, but +not to let them out again, and having told the footman to bring them +up to her, she seated herself in the drawing room to await the +abductors. + +When Gabriel came to inform her that the men who had come had run +away again, she rose frowning, and clasping her hands behind her paced +through the rooms a long time considering what she should do. Toward +midnight she went to Natasha's room fingering the key in her pocket. +Sonya was sitting sobbing in the corridor. "Marya Dmitrievna, for +God's sake let me in to her!" she pleaded, but Marya Dmitrievna +unlocked the door and went in without giving her an answer.... +"Disgusting, abominable... In my house... horrid girl, hussy! I'm only +sorry for her father!" thought she, trying to restrain her wrath. +"Hard as it may be, I'll tell them all to hold their tongues and +will hide it from the count." She entered the room with resolute +steps. Natasha lying on the sofa, her head hidden in her hands, and +she did not stir. She was in just the same position in which Marya +Dmitrievna had left her. + +"A nice girl! Very nice!" said Marya Dmitrievna. "Arranging meetings +with lovers in my house! It's no use pretending: you listen when I +speak to you!" And Marya Dmitrievna touched her arm. "Listen when when +I speak! You've disgraced yourself like the lowest of hussies. I'd +treat you differently, but I'm sorry for your father, so I will +conceal it." + +Natasha did not change her position, but her whole body heaved +with noiseless, convulsive sobs which choked her. Marya Dmitrievna +glanced round at Sonya and seated herself on the sofa beside Natasha. + +"It's lucky for him that he escaped me; but I'll find him!" she said +in her rough voice. "Do you hear what I am saying or not?" she added. + +She put her large hand under Natasha's face and turned it toward +her. Both Marya Dmitrievna and Sonya were amazed when they saw how +Natasha looked. Her eyes were dry and glistening, her lips compressed, +her cheeks sunken. + +"Let me be!... What is it to me?... I shall die!" she muttered, +wrenching herself from Marya Dmitrievna's hands with a vicious +effort and sinking down again into her former position. + +"Natalie!" said Marya Dmitrievna. "I wish for your good. Lie +still, stay like that then, I won't touch you. But listen. I won't +tell you how guilty you are. You know that yourself. But when your +father comes back tomorrow what am I to tell him? Eh?" + +Again Natasha's body shook with sobs. + +"Suppose he finds out, and your brother, and your betrothed?" + +"I have no betrothed: I have refused him!" cried Natasha. + +"That's all the same," continued Dmitrievna. "If they hear of +this, will they let it pass? He, your father, I know him... if he +challenges him to a duel will that be all right? Eh?" + +"Oh, let me be! Why have you interfered at all? Why? Why? Who +asked you to?" shouted Natasha, raising herself on the sofa and +looking malignantly at Marya Dmitrievna. + +"But what did you want?" cried Marya Dmitrievna, growing angry +again. "Were you kept under lock and key? Who hindered his coming to +the house? Why carry you off as if you were some gypsy singing +girl?... Well, if he had carried you off... do you think they wouldn't +have found him? Your father, or brother, or your betrothed? And he's a +scoundrel, a wretch--that's a fact!" + +"He is better than any of you!" exclaimed Natasha getting up. "If +you hadn't interfered... Oh, my God! What is it all? What is it? +Sonya, why?... Go away!" + +And she burst into sobs with the despairing vehemence with which +people bewail disasters they feel they have themselves occasioned. +Marya Dmitrievna was to speak again but Natasha cried out: + +"Go away! Go away! You all hate and despise me!" and she threw +herself back on the sofa. + +Marya Dmitrievna went on admonishing her for some time, enjoining on +her that it must all be kept from her father and assuring her that +nobody would know anything about it if only Natasha herself would +undertake to forget it all and not let anyone see that something had +happened. Natasha did not reply, nor did she sob any longer, but she +grew cold and had a shivering fit. Marya Dmitrievna put a pillow under +her head, covered her with two quilts, and herself brought her some +lime-flower water, but Natasha did not respond to her. + +"Well, let her sleep," said Marya Dmitrievna as she went of the room +supposing Natasha to be asleep. + +But Natasha was not asleep; with pale face and fixed wide-open +eyes she looked straight before her. All that night she did not +sleep or weep and did not speak to Sonya who got up and went to her +several times. + +Next day Count Rostov returned from his estate near Moscow in time +for lunch as he had promised. He was in very good spirits; the +affair with the purchaser was going on satisfactorily, and there was +nothing to keep him any longer in Moscow, away from the countess +whom he missed. Marya Dmitrievna met him and told him that Natasha had +been very unwell the day before and that they had sent for the doctor, +but that she was better now. Natasha had not left her room that +morning. With compressed and parched lips and dry fixed eyes, she +sat at the window, uneasily watching the people who drove past and +hurriedly glancing round at anyone who entered the room. She was +evidently expecting news of him and that he would come or would +write to her. + +When the count came to see her she turned anxiously round at the +sound of a man's footstep, and then her face resumed its cold and +malevolent expression. She did not even get up to greet him. "What +is the matter with you, my angel? Are you ill?" asked the count. + +After a moment's silence Natasha answered: "Yes, ill." + +In reply to the count's anxious inquiries as to why she was so +dejected and whether anything had happened to her betrothed, she +assured him that nothing had happened and asked him not to worry. +Marya Dmitrievna confirmed Natasha's assurances that nothing had +happened. From the pretense of illness, from his daughter's +distress, and by the embarrassed faces of Sonya and Marya +Dmitrievna, the count saw clearly that something had gone wrong during +his absence, but it was so terrible for him to think that anything +disgraceful had happened to his beloved daughter, and he so prized his +own cheerful tranquillity, that he avoided inquiries and tried to +assure himself that nothing particularly had happened; and he was only +dissatisfied that her indisposition delayed their return to the +country. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +From the day his wife arrived in Moscow Pierre had been intending to +go away somewhere, so as not to be near her. Soon after the Rostovs +came to Moscow the effect Natasha had on him made him hasten to +carry out his intention. He went to Tver to see Joseph Alexeevich's +widow, who had long since promised to hand over to him some papers +of her deceased husband's. + +When he returned to Moscow Pierre was handed a letter from Marya +Dmitrievna asking him to come and see her on a matter of great +importance relating to Andrew Bolkonski and his betrothed. Pierre +had been avoiding Natasha because it seemed to him that his feeling +for her was stronger than a married man's should be for his friend's +fiancee. Yet some fate constantly threw them together. + +"What can have happened? And what can they want with me?" thought he +as he dressed to go to Marya Dmitrievna's. "If only Prince Andrew +would hurry up and come and marry her!" thought he on his way to the +house. + +On the Tverskoy Boulevard a familiar voice called to him. + +"Pierre! Been back long?" someone shouted. Pierre raised his head. +In a sleigh drawn by two gray trotting-horses that were bespattering +the dashboard with snow, Anatole and his constant companion Makarin +dashed past. Anatole was sitting upright in the classic pose of +military dandies, the lower part of his face hidden by his beaver +collar and his head slightly bent. His face was fresh and rosy, his +white-plumed hat, tilted to one side, disclosed his curled and pomaded +hair besprinkled with powdery snow. + +"Yes, indeed, that's a true sage," thought Pierre. "He sees +nothing beyond the pleasure of the moment, nothing troubles him and so +he is always cheerful, satisfied, and serene. What wouldn't I give +to be like him!" he thought enviously. + +In Marya Dmitrievna's anteroom the footman who helped him off with +his fur coat said that the mistress asked him to come to her bedroom. + +When he opened the ballroom door Pierre saw Natasha sitting at the +window, with a thin, pale, and spiteful face. She glanced round at +him, frowned, and left the room with an expression of cold dignity. + +"What has happened?" asked Pierre, entering Marya Dmitrievna's room. + +"Fine doings!" answered Dmitrievna. "For fifty-eight years have I +lived in this world and never known anything so disgraceful!" + +And having put him on his honor not to repeat anything she told him, +Marya Dmitrievna informed him that Natasha had refused Prince Andrew +without her parents' knowledge and that the cause of this was +Anatole Kuragin into whose society Pierre's wife had thrown her and +with whom Natasha had tried to elope during her father's absence, in +order to be married secretly. + +Pierre raised his shoulders and listened open-mouthed to what was +told him, scarcely able to believe his own ears. That Prince +Andrew's deeply loved affianced wife--the same Natasha Rostova who +used to be so charming--should give up Bolkonski for that fool Anatole +who was already secretly married (as Pierre knew), and should be so in +love with him as to agree to run away with him, was something Pierre +could not conceive and could not imagine. + +He could not reconcile the charming impression he had of Natasha, +whom he had known from a child, with this new conception of her +baseness, folly, and cruelty. He thought of his wife. "They are all +alike!" he said to himself, reflecting that he was not the only man +unfortunate enough to be tied to a bad woman. But still he pitied +Prince Andrew to the point of tears and sympathized with his wounded +pride, and the more he pitied his friend the more did he think with +contempt and even with disgust of that Natasha who had just passed him +in the ballroom with such a look of cold dignity. He did not know that +Natasha's soul was overflowing with despair, shame, and humiliation, +and that it was not her fault that her face happened to assume an +expression of calm dignity and severity. + +"But how get married?" said Pierre, in answer to Marya Dmitrievna. +"He could not marry--he is married!" + +"Things get worse from hour to hour!" ejaculated Marya Dmitrievna. +"A nice youth! What a scoundrel! And she's expecting him--expecting +him since yesterday. She must be told! Then at least she won't go on +expecting him." + +After hearing the details of Anatole's marriage from Pierre, and +giving vent to her anger against Anatole in words of abuse, Marya +Dmitrievna told Pierre why she had sent for him. She was afraid that +the count or Bolkonski, who might arrive at any moment, if they knew +of this affair (which she hoped to hide from them) might challenge +Anatole to a duel, and she therefore asked Pierre to tell his +brother-in-law in her name to leave Moscow and not dare to let her set +eyes on him again. Pierre--only now realizing the danger to the old +count, Nicholas, and Prince Andrew--promised to do as she wished. +Having briefly and exactly explained her wishes to him, she let him go +to the drawing room. + +"Mind, the count knows nothing. Behave as if you know nothing +either," she said. "And I will go and tell her it is no use +expecting him! And stay to dinner if you care to!" she called after +Pierre. + +Pierre met the old count, who seemed nervous and upset. That morning +Natasha had told him that she had rejected Bolkonski. + +"Troubles, troubles, my dear fellow!" he said to Pierre. "What +troubles one has with these girls without their mother! I do so regret +having come here.... I will be frank with you. Have you heard she +has broken off her engagement without consulting anybody? It's true +this engagement never was much to my liking. Of course he is an +excellent man, but still, with his father's disapproval they +wouldn't have been happy, and Natasha won't lack suitors. Still, it +has been going on so long, and to take such a step without father's or +mother's consent! And now she's ill, and God knows what! It's hard, +Count, hard to manage daughters in their mother's absence...." + +Pierre saw that the count was much upset and tried to change the +subject, but the count returned to his troubles. + +Sonya entered the room with an agitated face. + +"Natasha is not quite well; she's in her room and would like to +see you. Marya Dmitrievna is with her and she too asks you to come." + +"Yes, you are a great friend of Bolkonski's, no doubt she wants to +send him a message," said the count. "Oh dear! Oh dear! How happy it +all was!" + +And clutching the spare gray locks on his temples the count left the +room. + +When Marya Dmitrievna told Natasha that Anatole was married, Natasha +did not wish to believe it and insisted on having it confirmed by +Pierre himself. Sonya told Pierre this as she led him along the +corridor to Natasha's room. + +Natasha, pale and stern, was sitting beside Marya Dmitrievna, and +her eyes, glittering feverishly, met Pierre with a questioning look +the moment he entered. She did not smile or nod, but only gazed +fixedly at him, and her look asked only one thing: was he a friend, or +like the others an enemy in regard to Anatole? As for Pierre, he +evidently did not exist for her. + +"He knows all about it," said Marya Dmitrievna pointing to Pierre +and addressing Natasha. "Let him tell you whether I have told the +truth." + +Natasha looked from one to the other as a hunted and wounded +animal looks at the approaching dogs and sportsmen. + +"Natalya Ilynichna," Pierre began, dropping his eyes with a +feeling of pity for her and loathing for the thing he had to do, +"whether it is true or not should make no difference to you, +because..." + +"Then it is not true that he's married!" + +"Yes, it is true." + +"Has he been married long?" she asked. "On your honor?..." + +Pierre gave his word of honor. + +"Is he still here?" she asked, quickly. + +"Yes, I have just seen him." + +She was evidently unable to speak and made a sign with her hands +that they should leave her alone. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +Pierre did not stay for dinner, but left the room and went away at +once. He drove through the town seeking Anatole Kuragin, at the +thought of whom now the blood rushed to his heart and he felt a +difficulty in breathing. He was not at the ice hills, nor at the +gypsies', nor at Komoneno's. Pierre drove to the Club. In the Club all +was going on as usual. The members who were assembling for dinner were +sitting about in groups; they greeted Pierre and spoke of the town +news. The footman having greeted him, knowing his habits and his +acquaintances, told him there was a place left for him in the small +dining room and that Prince Michael Zakharych was in the library, +but Paul Timofeevich had not yet arrived. One of Pierre's +acquaintances, while they were talking about the weather, asked if +he had heard of Kuragin's abduction of Rostova which was talked of +in the town, and was it true? Pierre laughed and said it was +nonsense for he had just come from the Rostovs'. He asked everyone +about Anatole. One man told him he had not come yet, and another +that he was coming to dinner. Pierre felt it strange to see this calm, +indifferent crowd of people unaware of what was going on in his +soul. He paced through the ballroom, waited till everyone had come, +and as Anatole had not turned up did not stay for dinner but drove +home. + +Anatole, for whom Pierre was looking, dined that day with +Dolokhov, consulting him as to how to remedy this unfortunate +affair. It seemed to him essential to see Natasha. In the evening he +drove to his sister's to discuss with her how to arrange a meeting. +When Pierre returned home after vainly hunting all over Moscow, his +valet informed him that Prince Anatole was with the countess. The +countess' drawing room was full of guests. + +Pierre without greeting his wife whom he had not seen since his +return--at that moment she was more repulsive to him than ever- +entered the drawing room and seeing Anatole went up to him. + +"Ah, Pierre," said the countess going up to her husband. "You +don't know what a plight our Anatole..." + +She stopped, seeing in the forward thrust of her husband's head, +in his glowing eyes and his resolute gait, the terrible indications of +that rage and strength which she knew and had herself experienced +after his duel with Dolokhov. + +"Where you are, there is vice and evil!" said Pierre to his wife. +"Anatole, come with me! I must speak to you," he added in French. + +Anatole glanced round at his sister and rose submissively, ready +to follow Pierre. Pierre, taking him by the arm, pulled him toward +himself and was leading him from the room. + +"If you allow yourself in my drawing room..." whispered Helene, +but Pierre did not reply and went out of the room. + +Anatole followed him with his usual jaunty step but his face +betrayed anxiety. + +Having entered his study Pierre closed the door and addressed +Anatole without looking at him. + +"You promised Countess Rostova to marry her and were about to +elope with her, is that so?" + +"Mon cher," answered Anatole (their whole conversation was in +French), "I don't consider myself bound to answer questions put to +me in that tone." + +Pierre's face, already pale, became distorted by fury. He seized +Anatole by the collar of his uniform with his big hand and shook him +from side to side till Anatole's face showed a sufficient degree of +terror. + +"When I tell you that I must talk to you!..." repeated Pierre. + +"Come now, this is stupid. What?" said Anatole, fingering a button +of his collar that had been wrenched loose with a bit of the cloth. + +"You're a scoundrel and a blackguard, and I don't know what deprives +me from the pleasure of smashing your head with this!" said Pierre, +expressing himself so artificially because he was talking French. + +He took a heavy paperweight and lifted it threateningly, but at once +put it back in its place. + +"Did you promise to marry her?" + +"I... I didn't think of it. I never promised, because..." + +Pierre interrupted him. + +"Have you any letters of hers? Any letters?" he said, moving +toward Anatole. + +Anatole glanced at him and immediately thrust his hand into his +pocket and drew out his pocketbook. + +Pierre took the letter Anatole handed him and, pushing aside a table +that stood in his way, threw himself on the sofa. + +"I shan't be violent, don't be afraid!" said Pierre in answer to a +frightened gesture of Anatole's. "First, the letters," said he, as +if repeating a lesson to himself. "Secondly," he continued after a +short pause, again rising and again pacing the room, "tomorrow you +must get out of Moscow." + +"But how can I?..." + +"Thirdly," Pierre continued without listening to him, "you must +never breathe a word of what has passed between you and Countess +Rostova. I know I can't prevent your doing so, but if you have a spark +of conscience..." Pierre paced the room several times in silence. + +Anatole sat at a table frowning and biting his lips. + +"After all, you must understand that besides your pleasure there +is such a thing as other people's happiness and peace, and that you +are ruining a whole life for the sake of amusing yourself! Amuse +yourself with women like my wife--with them you are within your +rights, for they know what you want of them. They are armed against +you by the same experience of debauchery; but to promise a maid to +marry her... to deceive, to kidnap.... Don't you understand that it is +as mean as beating an old man or a child?..." + +Pierre paused and looked at Anatole no longer with an angry but with +a questioning look. + +"I don't know about that, eh?" said Anatole, growing more +confident as Pierre mastered his wrath. "I don't know that and don't +want to," he said, not looking at Pierre and with a slight tremor of +his lower jaw, "but you have used such words to me--'mean' and so +on--which as a man of honor I can't allow anyone to use." + +Pierre glanced at him with amazement, unable to understand what he +wanted. + +"Though it was tete-a-tete," Anatole continued, "still I can't..." + +"Is it satisfaction you want?" said Pierre ironically. + +"You could at least take back your words. What? If you want me to do +as you wish, eh?" + +"I take them back, I take them back!" said Pierre, "and I ask you to +forgive me." Pierre involuntarily glanced at the loose button. "And if +you require money for your journey..." + +Anatole smiled. The expression of that base and cringing smile, +which Pierre knew so well in his wife, revolted him. + +"Oh, vile and heartless brood!" he exclaimed, and left the room. + +Next day Anatole left for Petersburg. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +Pierre drove to Marya Dmitrievna's to tell her of the fulfillment of +her wish that Kuragin should be banished from Moscow. The whole +house was in a state of alarm and commotion. Natasha was very ill, +having, as Marya Dmitrievna told him in secret, poisoned herself the +night after she had been told that Anatole was married, with some +arsenic she had stealthily procured. After swallowing a little she had +been so frightened that she woke Sonya and told her what she had done. +The necessary antidotes had been administered in time and she was +now out of danger, though still so weak that it was out of the +question to move her to the country, and so the countess had been sent +for. Pierre saw the distracted count, and Sonya, who had a +tear-stained face, but he could not see Natasha. + +Pierre dined at the club that day and heard on all sides gossip +about the attempted abduction of Rostova. He resolutely denied these +rumors, assuring everyone that nothing had happened except that his +brother-in-law had proposed to her and been refused. It seemed to +Pierre that it was his duty to conceal the whole affair and +re-establish Natasha's reputation. + +He was awaiting Prince Andrew's return with dread and went every day +to the old prince's for news of him. + +Old Prince Bolkonski heard all the rumors current in the town from +Mademoiselle Bourienne and had read the note to Princess Mary in which +Natasha had broken off her engagement. He seemed in better spirits +than usual and awaited his son with great impatience. + +Some days after Anatole's departure Pierre received a note from +Prince Andrew, informing him of his arrival and asking him to come +to see him. + +As soon as he reached Moscow, Prince Andrew had received from his +father Natasha's note to Princess Mary breaking off her engagement +(Mademoiselle Bourienne had purloined it from Princess Mary and +given it to the old prince), and he heard from him the story of +Natasha's elopement, with additions. + +Prince Andrew had arrived in the evening and Pierre came to see +him next morning. Pierre expected to find Prince Andrew in almost +the same state as Natasha and was therefore surprised on entering +the drawing room to hear him in the study talking in a loud animated +voice about some intrigue going on in Petersburg. The old prince's +voice and another now and then interrupted him. Princess Mary came out +to meet Pierre. She sighed, looking toward the door of the room +where Prince Andrew was, evidently intending to express her sympathy +with his sorrow, but Pierre saw by her face that she was glad both +at what had happened and at the way her brother had taken the news +of Natasha's faithlessness. + +"He says he expected it," she remarked. "I know his pride will not +let him express his feelings, but still he has taken it better, far +better, than I expected. Evidently it had to be...." + +"But is it possible that all is really ended?" asked Pierre. + +Princess Mary looked at him with astonishment. She did not +understand how he could ask such a question. Pierre went into the +study. Prince Andrew, greatly changed and plainly in better health, +but with a fresh horizontal wrinkle between his brows, stood in +civilian dress facing his father and Prince Meshcherski, warmly +disputing and vigorously gesticulating. The conversation was about +Speranski--the news of whose sudden exile and alleged treachery had +just reached Moscow. + +"Now he is censured and accused by all who were enthusiastic about +him a month ago," Prince Andrew was saying, "and by those who were +unable to understand his aims. To judge a man who is in disfavor and +to throw on him all the blame of other men's mistakes is very easy, +but I maintain that if anything good has been accomplished in this +reign it was done by him, by him alone." + +He paused at the sight of Pierre. His face quivered and +immediately assumed a vindictive expression. + +"Posterity will do him justice," he concluded, and at once turned to +Pierre. + +"Well, how are you? Still getting stouter?" he said with +animation, but the new wrinkle on his forehead deepened. "Yes, I am +well," he said in answer to Pierre's question, and smiled. + +To Pierre that smile said plainly: "I am well, but my health is +now of no use to anyone." + +After a few words to Pierre about the awful roads from the Polish +frontier, about people he had met in Switzerland who knew Pierre, +and about M. Dessalles, whom he had brought from abroad to be his +son's tutor, Prince Andrew again joined warmly in the conversation +about Speranski which was still going on between the two old men. + +"If there were treason, or proofs of secret relations with Napoleon, +they would have been made public," he said with warmth and haste. "I +do not, and never did, like Speranski personally, but I like justice!" + +Pierre now recognized in his friend a need with which he was only +too familiar, to get excited and to have arguments about extraneous +matters in order to stifle thoughts that were too oppressive and too +intimate. When Prince Meshcherski had left, Prince Andrew took +Pierre's arm and asked him into the room that had been assigned him. A +bed had been made up there, and some open portmanteaus and trunks +stood about. Prince Andrew went to one and took out a small casket, +from which he drew a packet wrapped in paper. He did it all silently +and very quickly. He stood up and coughed. His face was gloomy and his +lips compressed. + +"Forgive me for troubling you..." + +Pierre saw that Prince Andrew was going to speak of Natasha, and his +broad face expressed pity and sympathy. This expression irritated +Prince Andrew, and in a determined, ringing, and unpleasant tone he +continued: + +"I have received a refusal from Countess Rostova and have heard +reports of your brother-in-law having sought her hand, or something of +that kind. Is that true?" + +"Both true and untrue," Pierre began; but Prince Andrew +interrupted him. + +"Here are her letters and her portrait," said he. + +He took the packet from the table and handed it to Pierre. + +"Give this to the countess... if you see her." + +"She is very ill," said Pierre. + +"Then she is here still?" said Prince Andrew. "And Prince +Kuragin?" he added quickly. + +"He left long ago. She has been at death's door." + +"I much regret her illness," said Prince Andrew; and he smiled +like his father, coldly, maliciously, and unpleasantly. + +"So Monsieur Kuragin has not honored Countess Rostova with his +hand?" said Prince Andrew, and he snorted several times. + +"He could not marry, for he was married already," said Pierre. + +Prince Andrew laughed disagreeably, again reminding one of his +father. + +"And where is your brother-in-law now, if I may ask?" he said. + +"He has gone to Peters... But I don't know," said Pierre. + +"Well, it doesn't matter," said Prince Andrew. "Tell Countess +Rostova that she was and is perfectly free and that I wish her all +that is good." + +Pierre took the packet. Prince Andrew, as if trying to remember +whether he had something more to say, or waiting to see if Pierre +would say anything, looked fixedly at him. + +"I say, do you remember our discussion in Petersburg?" asked Pierre, +"about..." + +"Yes," returned Prince Andrew hastily. "I said that a fallen woman +should be forgiven, but I didn't say I could forgive her. I can't." + +"But can this be compared...?" said Pierre. + +Prince Andrew interrupted him and cried sharply: "Yes, ask her +hand again, be magnanimous, and so on?... Yes, that would be very +noble, but I am unable to follow in that gentleman's footsteps. If you +wish to be my friend never speak to me of that... of all that! Well, +good-by. So you'll give her the packet?" + +Pierre left the room and went to the old prince and Princess Mary. + +The old man seemed livelier than usual. Princess Mary was the same +as always, but beneath her sympathy for her brother, Pierre noticed +her satisfaction that the engagement had been broken off. Looking at +them Pierre realized what contempt and animosity they all felt for the +Rostovs, and that it was impossible in their presence even to +mention the name of her who could give up Prince Andrew for anyone +else. + +At dinner the talk turned on the war, the approach of which was +becoming evident. Prince Andrew talked incessantly, arguing now with +his father, now with the Swiss tutor Dessalles, and showing an +unnatural animation, the cause of which Pierre so well understood. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +That same evening Pierre went to the Rostovs' to fulfill the +commission entrusted to him. Natasha was in bed, the count at the +Club, and Pierre, after giving the letters to Sonya, went to Marya +Dmitrievna who was interested to know how Prince Andrew had taken +the news. Ten minutes later Sonya came to Marya Dmitrievna. + +"Natasha insists on seeing Count Peter Kirilovich," said she. + +"But how? Are we to take him up to her? The room there has not +been tidied up." + +"No, she has dressed and gone into the drawing room," said Sonya. + +Marya Dmitrievna only shrugged her shoulders. + +"When will her mother come? She has worried me to death! Now mind, +don't tell her everything!" said she to Pierre. "One hasn't the +heart to scold her, she is so much to be pitied, so much to be +pitied." + +Natasha was standing in the middle of the drawing room, emaciated, +with a pale set face, but not at all shamefaced as Pierre expected +to find her. When he appeared at the door she grew flurried, evidently +undecided whether to go to meet him or to wait till he came up. + +Pierre hastened to her. He thought she would give him her hand as +usual; but she, stepping up to him, stopped, breathing heavily, her +arms hanging lifelessly just in the pose she used to stand in when she +went to the middle of the ballroom to sing, but with quite a different +expression of face. + +"Peter Kirilovich," she began rapidly, "Prince Bolkonski was your +friend--is your friend," she corrected herself. (It seemed to her that +everything that had once been must now be different.) "He told me once +to apply to you..." + +Pierre sniffed as he looked at her, but did not speak. Till then +he had reproached her in his heart and tried to despise her, but he +now felt so sorry for her that there was no room in his soul for +reproach. + +"He is here now: tell him... to for... forgive me!" She stopped +and breathed still more quickly, but did not shed tears. + +"Yes... I will tell him," answered Pierre; "but..." + +He did not know what to say. + +Natasha was evidently dismayed at the thought of what he might think +she had meant. + +"No, I know all is over," she said hurriedly. "No, that can never +be. I'm only tormented by the wrong I have done him. Tell him only +that I beg him to forgive, forgive, forgive me for everything...." + +She trembled all over and sat down on a chair. + +A sense of pity he had never before known overflowed Pierre's heart. + +"I will tell him, I will tell him everything once more," said +Pierre. "But... I should like to know one thing...." + +"Know what?" Natasha's eyes asked. + +"I should like to know, did you love..." Pierre did not know how +to refer to Anatole and flushed at the thought of him--"did you love +that bad man?" + +"Don't call him bad!" said Natasha. "But I don't know, don't know at +all...." + +She began to cry and a still greater sense of pity, tenderness, +and love welled up in Pierre. He felt the tears trickle under his +spectacles and hoped they would not be noticed. + +"We won't speak of it any more, my dear," said Pierre, and his +gentle, cordial tone suddenly seemed very strange to Natasha. + +"We won't speak of it, my dear--I'll tell him everything; but one +thing I beg of you, consider me your friend and if you want help, +advice, or simply to open your heart to someone--not now, but when +your mind is clearer think of me!" He took her hand and kissed it. +"I shall be happy if it's in my power..." + +Pierre grew confused. + +"Don't speak to me like that. I am not worth it!" exclaimed +Natasha and turned to leave the room, but Pierre held her hand. + +He knew he had something more to say to her. But when he said it +he was amazed at his own words. + +"Stop, stop! You have your whole life before you," said he to her. + +"Before me? No! All is over for me," she replied with shame and +self-abasement. + + "All over?" he repeated. "If I were not myself, but the handsomest, +cleverest, and best man in the world, and were free, I would this +moment ask on my knees for your hand and your love!" + +For the first time for many days Natasha wept tears of gratitude and +tenderness, and glancing at Pierre she went out of the room. + +Pierre too when she had gone almost ran into the anteroom, +restraining tears of tenderness and joy that choked him, and without +finding the sleeves of his fur cloak threw it on and got into his +sleigh. + +"Where to now, your excellency?" asked the coachman. + +"Where to?" Pierre asked himself. "Where can I go now? Surely not to +the Club or to pay calls?" All men seemed so pitiful, so poor, in +comparison with this feeling of tenderness and love he experienced: in +comparison with that softened, grateful, last look she had given him +through her tears. + +"Home!" said Pierre, and despite twenty-two degrees of frost +Fahrenheit he threw open the bearskin cloak from his broad chest and +inhaled the air with joy. + +It was clear and frosty. Above the dirty, ill-lit streets, above the +black roofs, stretched the dark starry sky. Only looking up at the sky +did Pierre cease to feel how sordid and humiliating were all mundane +things compared with the heights to which his soul had just been +raised. At the entrance to the Arbat Square an immense expanse of dark +starry sky presented itself to his eyes. Almost in the center of it, +above the Prechistenka Boulevard, surrounded and sprinkled on all +sides by stars but distinguished from them all by its nearness to +the earth, its white light, and its long uplifted tail, shone the +enormous and brilliant comet of 1812--the comet which was said to +portend all kinds of woes and the end of the world. In Pierre, +however, that comet with its long luminous tail aroused no feeling +of fear. On the contrary he gazed joyfully, his eyes moist with tears, +at this bright comet which, having traveled in its orbit with +inconceivable velocity through immeasurable space, seemed suddenly- +like an arrow piercing the earth--to remain fixed in a chosen spot, +vigorously holding its tail erect, shining and displaying its white +light amid countless other scintillating stars. It seemed to Pierre +that this comet fully responded to what was passing in his own +softened and uplifted soul, now blossoming into a new life. + + + + + +BOOK NINE: 1812 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +From the close of the year 1811 intensified arming and concentrating +of the forces of Western Europe began, and in 1812 these forces- +millions of men, reckoning those transporting and feeding the army- +moved from the west eastwards to the Russian frontier, toward which +since 1811 Russian forces had been similarly drawn. On the twelfth +of June, 1812, the forces of Western Europe crossed the Russian +frontier and war began, that is, an event took place opposed to +human reason and to human nature. Millions of men perpetrated +against one another such innumerable crimes, frauds, treacheries, +thefts, forgeries, issues of false money, burglaries, incendiarisms, +and murders as in whole centuries are not recorded in the annals of +all the law courts of the world, but which those who committed them +did not at the time regard as being crimes. + +What produced this extraordinary occurrence? What were its causes? +The historians tell us with naive assurance that its causes were the +wrongs inflicted on the Duke of Oldenburg, the nonobservance of the +Continental System, the ambition of Napoleon, the firmness of +Alexander, the mistakes of the diplomatists, and so on. + +Consequently, it would only have been necessary for Metternich, +Rumyantsev, or Talleyrand, between a levee and an evening party, to +have taken proper pains and written a more adroit note, or for +Napoleon to have written to Alexander: "My respected Brother, I +consent to restore the duchy to the Duke of Oldenburg"--and there +would have been no war. + +We can understand that the matter seemed like that to +contemporaries. It naturally seemed to Napoleon that the war was +caused by England's intrigues (as in fact he said on the island of St. +Helena). It naturally seemed to members of the English Parliament that +the cause of the war was Napoleon's ambition; to the Duke of +Oldenburg, that the cause of the war was the violence done to him; +to businessmen that the cause of the way was the Continental System +which was ruining Europe; to the generals and old soldiers that the +chief reason for the war was the necessity of giving them +employment; to the legitimists of that day that it was the need of +re-establishing les bons principes, and to the diplomatists of that +time that it all resulted from the fact that the alliance between +Russia and Austria in 1809 had not been sufficiently well concealed +from Napoleon, and from the awkward wording of Memorandum No. 178. +It is natural that these and a countless and infinite quantity of +other reasons, the number depending on the endless diversity of points +of view, presented themselves to the men of that day; but to us, to +posterity who view the thing that happened in all its magnitude and +perceive its plain and terrible meaning, these causes seem +insufficient. To us it is incomprehensible that millions of +Christian men killed and tortured each other either because Napoleon +was ambitious or Alexander was firm, or because England's policy was +astute or the Duke of Oldenburg wronged. We cannot grasp what +connection such circumstances have with the actual fact of slaughter +and violence: why because the Duke was wronged, thousands of men +from the other side of Europe killed and ruined the people of Smolensk +and Moscow and were killed by them. + +To us, their descendants, who are not historians and are not carried +away by the process of research and can therefore regard the event +with unclouded common sense, an incalculable number of causes +present themselves. The deeper we delve in search of these causes +the more of them we find; and each separate cause or whole series of +causes appears to us equally valid in itself and equally false by +its insignificance compared to the magnitude of the events, and by its +impotence--apart from the cooperation of all the other coincident +causes--to occasion the event. To us, the wish or objection of this or +that French corporal to serve a second term appears as much a cause as +Napoleon's refusal to withdraw his troops beyond the Vistula and to +restore the duchy of Oldenburg; for had he not wished to serve, and +had a second, a third, and a thousandth corporal and private also +refused, there would have been so many less men in Napoleon's army and +the war could not have occurred. + +Had Napoleon not taken offense at the demand that he should withdraw +beyond the Vistula, and not ordered his troops to advance, there would +have been no war; but had all his sergeants objected to serving a +second term then also there could have been no war. Nor could there +have been a war had there been no English intrigues and no Duke of +Oldenburg, and had Alexander not felt insulted, and had there not been +an autocratic government in Russia, or a Revolution in France and a +subsequent dictatorship and Empire, or all the things that produced +the French Revolution, and so on. Without each of these causes nothing +could have happened. So all these causes--myriads of causes--coincided +to bring it about. And so there was no one cause for that +occurrence, but it had to occur because it had to. Millions of men, +renouncing their human feelings and reason, had to go from west to +east to slay their fellows, just as some centuries previously hordes +of men had come from the east to the west, slaying their fellows. + +The actions of Napoleon and Alexander, on whose words the event +seemed to hang, were as little voluntary as the actions of any soldier +who was drawn into the campaign by lot or by conscription. This +could not be otherwise, for in order that the will of Napoleon and +Alexander (on whom the event seemed to depend) should be carried +out, the concurrence of innumerable circumstances was needed without +any one of which the event could not have taken place. It was +necessary that millions of men in whose hands lay the real power- +the soldiers who fired, or transported provisions and guns--should +consent to carry out the will of these weak individuals, and should +have been induced to do so by an infinite number of diverse and +complex causes. + +We are forced to fall back on fatalism as an explanation of +irrational events (that is to say, events the reasonableness of +which we do not understand). The more we try to explain such events in +history reasonably, the more unreasonable and incomprehensible do they +become to us. + +Each man lives for himself, using his freedom to attain his personal +aims, and feels with his whole being that he can now do or abstain +from doing this or that action; but as soon as he has done it, that +action performed at a certain moment in time becomes irrevocable and +belongs to history, in which it has not a free but a predestined +significance. + +There are two sides to the life of every man, his individual life, +which is the more free the more abstract its interests, and his +elemental hive life in which he inevitably obeys laws laid down for +him. + +Man lives consciously for himself, but is an unconscious +instrument in the attainment of the historic, universal, aims of +humanity. A deed done is irrevocable, and its result coinciding in +time with the actions of millions of other men assumes an historic +significance. The higher a man stands on the social ladder, the more +people he is connected with and the more power he has over others, the +more evident is the predestination and inevitability of his every +action. + +"The king's heart is in the hands of the Lord." + +A king is history's slave. + +History, that is, the unconscious, general, hive life of mankind, +uses every moment of the life of kings as a tool for its own purposes. + +Though Napoleon at that time, in 1812, was more convinced than +ever that it depended on him, verser (ou ne pas verser) le sang de ses +peuples*--as Alexander expressed it in the last letter he wrote him- +he had never been so much in the grip of inevitable laws, which +compelled him, while thinking that he was acting on his own +volition, to perform for the hive life--that is to say, for history- +whatever had to be performed. + + +*"To shed (or not to shed) the blood of his peoples." + + +The people of the west moved eastwards to slay their fellow men, and +by the law of coincidence thousands of minute causes fitted in and +co-ordinated to produce that movement and war: reproaches for the +nonobservance of the Continental System, the Duke of Oldenburg's +wrongs, the movement of troops into Prussia--undertaken (as it +seemed to Napoleon) only for the purpose of securing an armed peace, +the French Emperor's love and habit of war coinciding with his +people's inclinations, allurement by the grandeur of the preparations, +and the expenditure on those preparations and the need of obtaining +advantages to compensate for that expenditure, the intoxicating honors +he received in Dresden, the diplomatic negotiations which, in the +opinion of contemporaries, were carried on with a sincere desire to +attain peace, but which only wounded the self-love of both sides, +and millions of other causes that adapted themselves to +the event that was happening or coincided with it. + +When an apple has ripened and falls, why does it fall? Because of +its attraction to the earth, because its stalk withers, because it +is dried by the sun, because it grows heavier, because the wind shakes +it, or because the boy standing below wants to eat it? + +Nothing is the cause. All this is only the coincidence of conditions +in which all vital organic and elemental events occur. And the +botanist who finds that the apple falls because the cellular tissue +decays and so forth is equally right with the child who stands under +the tree and says the apple fell because he wanted to eat it and +prayed for it. Equally right or wrong is he who says that Napoleon +went to Moscow because he wanted to, and perished because Alexander +desired his destruction, and he who says that an undermined hill +weighing a million tons fell because the last navvy struck it for +the last time with his mattock. In historic events the so-called great +men are labels giving names to events, and like labels they have but +the smallest connection with the event itself. + +Every act of theirs, which appears to them an act of their own will, +is in an historical sense involuntary and is related to the whole +course of history and predestined from eternity. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +On the twenty-ninth of May Napoleon left Dresden, where he had spent +three weeks surrounded by a court that included princes, dukes, kings, +and even an emperor. Before leaving, Napoleon showed favor to the +emperor, kings, and princes who had deserved it, reprimanded the kings +and princes with whom he was dissatisfied, presented pearls and +diamonds of his own--that is, which he had taken from other kings- +to the Empress of Austria, and having, as his historian tells us, +tenderly embraced the Empress Marie Louise--who regarded him as her +husband, though he had left another wife in Paris--left her grieved by +the parting which she seemed hardly able to bear. Though the +diplomatists still firmly believed in the possibility of peace and +worked zealously to that end, and though the Emperor Napoleon +himself wrote a letter to Alexander, calling him Monsieur mon frere, +and sincerely assured him that he did not want war and would always +love and honor him--yet he set off to join his army, and at every +station gave fresh orders to accelerate the movement of his troops +from west to east. He went in a traveling coach with six horses, +surrounded by pages, aides-de-camp, and an escort, along the road to +Posen, Thorn, Danzig, and Konigsberg. At each of these towns thousands +of people met him with excitement and enthusiasm. + +The army was moving from west to east, and relays of six horses +carried him in the same direction. On the tenth of June,* coming up +with the army, he spent the night in apartments prepared for him on +the estate of a Polish count in the Vilkavisski forest. + + +*Old style. + + +Next day, overtaking the army, he went in a carriage to the +Niemen, and, changing into a Polish uniform, he drove to the riverbank +in order to select a place for the crossing. + +Seeing, on the other side, some Cossacks (les Cosaques) and the +wide-spreading steppes in the midst of which lay the holy city of +Moscow (Moscou, la ville sainte), the capital of a realm such as the +Scythia into which Alexander the Great had marched--Napoleon +unexpectedly, and contrary alike to strategic and diplomatic +considerations, ordered an advance, and the next day his army began to +cross the Niemen. + +Early in the morning of the twelfth of June he came out of his tent, +which was pitched that day on the steep left bank of the Niemen, and +looked through a spyglass at the streams of his troops pouring out +of the Vilkavisski forest and flowing over the three bridges thrown +across the river. The troops, knowing of the Emperor's presence, +were on the lookout for him, and when they caught sight of a figure in +an overcoat and a cocked hat standing apart from his suite in front of +his tent on the hill, they threw up their caps and shouted: "Vive +l'Empereur!" and one after another poured in a ceaseless stream out of +the vast forest that had concealed them and, separating, flowed on and +on by the three bridges to the other side. + +"Now we'll go into action. Oh, when he takes it in hand himself, +things get hot... by heaven!... There he is!... Vive l'Empereur! So +these are the steppes of Asia! It's a nasty country all the same. Au +revoir, Beauche; I'll keep the best palace in Moscow for you! Au +revoir. Good luck!... Did you see the Emperor? Vive l'Empereur!... +preur!--If they make me Governor of India, Gerard, I'll make you +Minister of Kashmir--that's settled. Vive l'Empereur! Hurrah! +hurrah! hurrah! The Cossacks--those rascals--see how they run! Vive +l'Empereur! There he is, do you see him? I've seen him twice, as I see +you now. The little corporal... I saw him give the cross to one of the +veterans.... Vive l'Empereur!" came the voices of men, old and +young, of most diverse characters and social positions. On the faces +of all was one common expression of joy at the commencement of the +long-expected campaign and of rapture and devotion to the man in the +gray coat who was standing on the hill. + +On the thirteenth of June a rather small, thoroughbred Arab horse +was brought to Napoleon. He mounted it and rode at a gallop to one +of the bridges over the Niemen, deafened continually by incessant +and rapturous acclamations which he evidently endured only because +it was impossible to forbid the soldiers to express their love of +him by such shouting, but the shouting which accompanied him +everywhere disturbed him and distracted him from the military cares +that had occupied him from the time he joined the army. He rode across +one of the swaying pontoon bridges to the farther side, turned sharply +to the left, and galloped in the direction of Kovno, preceded by +enraptured, mounted chasseurs of the Guard who, breathless with +delight, galloped ahead to clear a path for him through the troops. On +reaching the broad river Viliya, he stopped near a regiment of +Polish Uhlans stationed by the river. + +"Vivat!" shouted the Poles, ecstatically, breaking their ranks and +pressing against one another to see him. + +Napoleon looked up and down the river, dismounted, and sat down on a +log that lay on the bank. At a mute sign from him, a telescope was +handed him which he rested on the back of a happy page who had run +up to him, and he gazed at the opposite bank. Then he became +absorbed in a map laid out on the logs. Without lifting his head he +said something, and two of his aides-de-camp galloped off to the +Polish Uhlans. + +"What? What did he say?" was heard in the ranks of the Polish Uhlans +when one of the aides-de-camp rode up to them. + +The order was to find a ford and to cross the river. The colonel +of the Polish Uhlans, a handsome old man, flushed and, fumbling in his +speech from excitement, asked the aide-de-camp whether he would be +permitted to swim the river with his Uhlans instead of seeking a ford. +In evident fear of refusal, like a boy asking for permission to get on +a horse, he begged to be allowed to swim across the river before the +Emperor's eyes. The aide-de-camp replied that probably the Emperor +would not be displeased at this excess of zeal. + +As soon as the aide-de-camp had said this, the old mustached +officer, with happy face and sparkling eyes, raised his saber, shouted +"Vivat!" and, commanding the Uhlans to follow him, spurred his horse +and galloped into the river. He gave an angry thrust to his horse, +which had grown restive under him, and plunged into the water, heading +for the deepest part where the current was swift. Hundreds of Uhlans +galloped in after him. It was cold and uncanny in the rapid current in +the middle of the stream, and the Uhlans caught hold of one another as +they fell off their horses. Some of the horses were drowned and some +of the men; the others tried to swim on, some in the saddle and some +clinging to their horses' manes. They tried to make their way +forward to the opposite bank and, though there was a ford one third of +a mile away, were proud that they were swimming and drowning in this +river under the eyes of the man who sat on the log and was not even +looking at what they were doing. When the aide-de-camp, having +returned and choosing an opportune moment, ventured to draw the +Emperor's attention to the devotion of the Poles to his person, the +little man in the gray overcoat got up and, having summoned +Berthier, began pacing up and down the bank with him, giving him +instructions and occasionally glancing disapprovingly at the +drowning Uhlans who distracted his attention. + +For him it was no new conviction that his presence in any part of +the world, from Africa to the steppes of Muscovy alike, was enough +to dumfound people and impel them to insane self-oblivion. He called +for his horse and rode to his quarters. + +Some forty Uhlans were drowned in the river, though boats were +sent to their assistance. The majority struggled back to the bank from +which they had started. The colonel and some of his men got across and +with difficulty clambered out on the further bank. And as soon as they +had got out, in their soaked and streaming clothes, they shouted +"Vivat!" and looked ecstatically at the spot where Napoleon had been +but where he no longer was and at that moment considered themselves +happy. + +That evening, between issuing one order that the forged Russian +paper money prepared for use in Russia should be delivered as +quickly as possible and another that a Saxon should be shot, on whom a +letter containing information about the orders to the French army +had been found, Napoleon also gave instructions that the Polish +colonel who had needlessly plunged into the river should be enrolled +in the Legion d'honneur of which Napoleon was himself the head. + +Quos vult perdere dementat.* + + +*Those whom (God) wishes to destroy he drives mad. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The Emperor of Russia had, meanwhile, been in Vilna for more than +a month, reviewing troops and holding maneuvers. Nothing was ready for +the war that everyone expected and to prepare for which the Emperor +had come from Petersburg. There was no general plan of action. The +vacillation between the various plans that were proposed had even +increased after the Emperor had been at headquarters for a month. Each +of the three armies had its own commander in chief, but there was no +supreme commander of all the forces, and the Emperor did not assume +that responsibility himself. + +The longer the Emperor remained in Vilna the less did everybody- +tired of waiting--prepare for the war. All the efforts of those who +surrounded the sovereign seemed directed merely to making him spend +his time pleasantly and forget that war was impending. + +In June, after many balls and fetes given by the Polish magnates, by +the courtiers, and by the Emperor himself, it occurred to one of the +Polish aides-de-camp in attendance that a dinner and ball should be +given for the Emperor by his aides-de-camp. This idea was eagerly +received. The Emperor gave his consent. The aides-de-camp collected +money by subscription. The lady who was thought to be most pleasing to +the Emperor was invited to act as hostess. Count Bennigsen, being a +landowner in the Vilna province, offered his country house for the +fete, and the thirteenth of June was fixed for a ball, dinner, +regatta, and fireworks at Zakret, Count Bennigsen's country seat. + +The very day that Napoleon issued the order to cross the Niemen, and +his vanguard, driving off the Cossacks, crossed the Russian +frontier, Alexander spent the evening at the entertainment given by +his aides-de-camp at Bennigsen's country house. + +It was a gay and brilliant fete. Connoisseurs of such matters +declared that rarely had so many beautiful women been assembled in one +place. Countess Bezukhova was present among other Russian ladies who +had followed the sovereign from Petersburg to Vilna and eclipsed the +refined Polish ladies by her massive, so called Russian type of +beauty. The Emperor noticed her and honored her with a dance. + +Boris Drubetskoy, having left his wife in Moscow and being for the +present en garcon (as he phrased it), was also there and, though not +an aide-de-camp, had subscribed a large sum toward the expenses. Boris +was now a rich man who had risen to high honors and no longer sought +patronage but stood on an equal footing with the highest of those of +his own age. He was meeting Helene in Vilna after not having seen +her for a long time and did not recall the past, but as Helene was +enjoying the favors of a very important personage and Boris had only +recently married, they met as good friends of long standing. + +At midnight dancing was still going on. Helene, not having a +suitable partner, herself offered to dance the mazurka with Boris. +They were the third couple. Boris, coolly looking at Helene's dazzling +bare shoulders which emerged from a dark, gold-embroidered, gauze +gown, talked to her of old acquaintances and at the same time, unaware +of it himself and unnoticed by others, never for an instant ceased +to observe the Emperor who was in the same room. The Emperor was not +dancing, he stood in the doorway, stopping now one pair and now +another with gracious words which he alone knew how to utter. + +As the mazurka began, Boris saw that Adjutant General Balashev, +one of those in closest attendance on the Emperor, went up to him +and contrary to court etiquette stood near him while he was talking to +a Polish lady. Having finished speaking to her, the Emperor looked +inquiringly at Balashev and, evidently understanding that he only +acted thus because there were important reasons for so doing, nodded +slightly to the lady and turned to him. Hardly had Balashev begun to +speak before a look of amazement appeared on the Emperor's face. He +took Balashev by the arm and crossed the room with him, +unconsciously clearing a path seven yards wide as the people on both +sides made way for him. Boris noticed Arakcheev's excited face when +the sovereign went out with Balashev. Arakcheev looked at the +Emperor from under his brow and, sniffing with his red nose, stepped +forward from the crowd as if expecting the Emperor to address him. +(Boris understood that Arakcheev envied Balashev and was displeased +that evidently important news had reached the Emperor otherwise than +through himself.) + +But the Emperor and Balashev passed out into the illuminated +garden without noticing Arakcheev who, holding his sword and +glancing wrathfully around, followed some twenty paces behind them. + +All the time Boris was going through the figures of the mazurka, +he was worried by the question of what news Balashev had brought and +how he could find it out before others. In the figure in which he +had to choose two ladies, he whispered to Helene that he meant to +choose Countess Potocka who, he thought, had gone out onto the +veranda, and glided over the parquet to the door opening into the +garden, where, seeing Balashev and the Emperor returning to the +veranda, he stood still. They were moving toward the door. Boris, +fluttering as if he had not had time to withdraw, respectfully pressed +close to the doorpost with bowed head. + +The Emperor, with the agitation of one who has been personally +affronted, was finishing with these words: + +"To enter Russia without declaring war! I will not make peace as +long as a single armed enemy remains in my country!" It seemed to +Boris that it gave the Emperor pleasure to utter these words. He was +satisfied with the form in which he had expressed his thoughts, but +displeased that Boris had overheard it. + +"Let no one know of it!" the Emperor added with a frown. + +Boris understood that this was meant for him and, closing his +eyes, slightly bowed his head. The Emperor re-entered the ballroom and +remained there about another half-hour. + +Boris was thus the first to learn the news that the French army +had crossed the Niemen and, thanks to this, was able to show certain +important personages that much that was concealed from others was +usually known to him, and by this means he rose higher in their +estimation. + + +The unexpected news of the French having crossed the Niemen was +particularly startling after a month of unfulfilled expectations, +and at a ball. On first receiving the news, under the influence of +indignation and resentment the Emperor had found a phrase that pleased +him, fully expressed his feelings, and has since become famous. On +returning home at two o'clock that night he sent for his secretary, +Shishkov, and told him to write an order to the troops and a +rescript to Field Marshal Prince Saltykov, in which he insisted on the +words being inserted that he would not make peace so long as a +single armed Frenchman remained on Russian soil. + +Next day the following letter was sent to Napoleon: + + +Monsieur mon frere, + +Yesterday I learned that, despite the loyalty which I have kept my +engagements with Your Majesty, your troops have crossed the Russian +frontier, and I have this moment received from Petersburg a note, in +which Count Lauriston informs me, as a reason for this aggression, +that Your Majesty has considered yourself to be in a state of war with +me from the time Prince Kuragin asked for his passports. The reasons +on which the Duc de Bassano based his refusal to deliver them to him +would never have led me to suppose that that could serve as a +pretext for aggression. In fact, the ambassador, as he himself has +declared, was never authorized to make that demand, and as soon as I +was informed of it I let him know how much I disapproved of it and +ordered him to remain at his post. If Your Majesty does not intend +to shed the blood of our peoples for such a misunderstanding, and +consents to withdraw your troops from Russian territory, I will regard +what has passed as not having occurred and an understanding between us +will be possible. In the contrary case, Your Majesty, I shall see +myself forced to repel an attack that nothing on my part has provoked. +It still depends on Your Majesty to preserve humanity from the +calamity of another war. I am, etc., + (signed) Alexander + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +At two in the morning of the fourteenth of June, the Emperor, having +sent for Balashev and read him his letter to Napoleon, ordered him +to take it and hand it personally to the French Emperor. When +dispatching Balashev, the Emperor repeated to him the words that he +would not make peace so long as a single armed enemy remained on +Russian soil and told him to transmit those words to Napoleon. +Alexander did not insert them in his letter to Napoleon, because +with his characteristic tact he felt it would be injudicious to use +them at a moment when a last attempt at reconciliation was being made, +but he definitely instructed Balashev to repeat them personally to +Napoleon. + +Having set off in the small hours of the fourteenth, accompanied +by a bugler and two Cossacks, Balashev reached the French outposts +at the village of Rykonty, on the Russian side of the Niemen, by dawn. +There he was stopped by French cavalry sentinels. + +A French noncommissioned officer of hussars, in crimson uniform +and a shaggy cap, shouted to the approaching Balashev to halt. +Balashev did not do so at once, but continued to advance along the +road at a walking pace. + +The noncommissioned officer frowned and, muttering words of abuse, +advanced his horse's chest against Balashev, put his hand to his +saber, and shouted rudely at the Russian general, asking: was he +deaf that he did not do as he was told? Balashev mentioned who he was. +The noncommissioned officer began talking with his comrades about +regimental matters without looking at the Russian general. + +After living at the seat of the highest authority and power, after +conversing with the Emperor less than three hours before, and in +general being accustomed to the respect due to his rank in the +service, Balashev found it very strange here on Russian soil to +encounter this hostile, and still more this disrespectful, application +of brute force to himself. + +The sun was only just appearing from behind the clouds, the air +was fresh and dewy. A herd of cattle was being driven along the road +from the village, and over the fields the larks rose trilling, one +after another, like bubbles rising in water. + +Balashev looked around him, awaiting the arrival of an officer +from the village. The Russian Cossacks and bugler and the French +hussars looked silently at one another from time to time. + +A French colonel of hussars, who had evidently just left his bed, +came riding from the village on a handsome sleek gray horse, +accompanied by two hussars. The officer, the soldiers, and their +horses all looked smart and well kept. + +It was that first period of a campaign when troops are still in full +trim, almost like that of peacetime maneuvers, but with a shade of +martial swagger in their clothes, and a touch of the gaiety and spirit +of enterprise which always accompany the opening of a campaign. + +The French colonel with difficulty repressed a yawn, but was +polite and evidently understood Balashev's importance. He led him past +his soldiers and behind the outposts and told him that his wish to +be presented to the Emperor would most likely be satisfied +immediately, as the Emperor's quarters were, he believed, not far off. + +They rode through the village of Rykonty, past tethered French +hussar horses, past sentinels and men who saluted their colonel and +stared with curiosity at a Russian uniform, and came out at the +other end of the village. The colonel said that the commander of the +division was a mile and a quarter away and would receive Balashev +and conduct him to his destination. + +The sun had by now risen and shone gaily on the bright verdure. + +They had hardly ridden up a hill, past a tavern, before they saw a +group of horsemen coming toward them. In front of the group, on a +black horse with trappings that glittered in the sun, rode a tall +man with plumes in his hat and black hair curling down to his +shoulders. He wore a red mantle, and stretched his long legs forward +in French fashion. This man rode toward Balashev at a gallop, his +plumes flowing and his gems and gold lace glittering in the bright +June sunshine. + +Balashev was only two horses' length from the equestrian with the +bracelets, plunies, necklaces, and gold embroidery, who was +galloping toward him with a theatrically solemn countenance, when +Julner, the French colonel, whispered respectfully: "The King of +Naples!" It was, in fact, Murat, now called "King of Naples." Though +it was quite incomprehensible why he should be King of Naples, he +was called so, and was himself convinced that he was so, and therefore +assumed a more solemn and important air than formerly. He was so +sure that he really was the King of Naples that when, on the eve of +his departure from that city, while walking through the streets with +his wife, some Italians called out to him: "Viva il re!"* he turned to +his wife with a pensive smile and said: "Poor fellows, they don't know +that I am leaving them tomorrow!" + + +*"Long live the king." + + +But though he firmly believed himself to be King of Naples and +pitied the grief felt by the subjects he was abandoning, latterly, +after he had been ordered to return to military service--and +especially since his last interview with Napoleon in Danzig, when +his august brother-in-law had told him: "I made you King that you +should reign in my way, but not in yours!"--he had cheerfully taken up +his familiar business, and--like a well-fed but not overfat horse that +feels himself in harness and grows skittish between the shafts--he +dressed up in clothes as variegated and expensive as possible, and +gaily and contentedly galloped along the roads of Poland, without +himself knowing why or whither. + +On seeing the Russian general he threw back his head, with its +long hair curling to his shoulders, in a majestically royal manner, +and looked inquiringly at the French colonel. The colonel respectfully +informed His Majesty of Balashev's mission, whose name he could not +pronounce. + +"De Bal-macheve!" said the King (overcoming by his assurance the +difficulty that had presented itself to the colonel). "Charmed to make +your acquaintance, General!" he added, with a gesture of kingly +condescension. + +As soon as the King began to speak loud and fast his royal dignity +instantly forsook him, and without noticing it he passed into his +natural tone of good-natured familiarity. He laid his hand on the +withers of Balashev's horse and said: + +"Well, General, it all looks like war," as if regretting a +circumstance of which he was unable to judge. + +"Your Majesty," replied Balashev, "my master, the Emperor, does +not desire war and as Your Majesty sees..." said Balashev, using the +words Your Majesty at every opportunity, with the affectation +unavoidable in frequently addressing one to whom the title was still a +novelty. + +Murat's face beamed with stupid satisfaction as he listened to +"Monsieur de Bal-macheve." But royaute oblige!* and he felt it +incumbent on him, as a king and an ally, to confer on state affairs +with Alexander's envoy. He dismounted, took Balashev's arm, and moving +a few steps away from his suite, which waited respectfully, began to +pace up and down with him, trying to speak significantly. He +referred to the fact that the Emperor Napoleon had resented the demand +that he should withdraw his troops from Prussia, especially when +that demand became generally known and the dignity of France was +thereby offended. + + +*"Royalty has its obligations." + + +Balashev replied that there was "nothing offensive in the demand, +because..." but Murat interrupted him. + +"Then you don't consider the Emperor Alexander the aggressor?" he +asked unexpectedly, with a kindly and foolish smile. + +Balashev told him why he considered Napoleon to be the originator of +the war. + +"Oh, my dear general!" Murat again interrupted him, "with all my +heart I wish the Emperors may arrange the affair between them, and +that the war begun by no wish of mine may finish as quickly as +possible!" said he, in the tone of a servant who wants to remain +good friends with another despite a quarrel between their masters. + +And he went on to inquiries about the Grand Duke and the state of +his health, and to reminiscences of the gay and amusing times he had +spent with him in Naples. Then suddenly, as if remembering his royal +dignity, Murat solemnly drew himself up, assumed the pose in which +he had stood at his coronation, and, waving his right arm, said: + +"I won't detain you longer, General. I wish success to your +mission," and with his embroidered red mantle, his flowing feathers, +and his glittering ornaments, he rejoined his suite who were +respectfully awaiting him. + +Balashev rode on, supposing from Murat's words that he would very +soon be brought before Napoleon himself. But instead of that, at the +next village the sentinels of Davout's infantry corps detained him +as the pickets of the vanguard had done, and an adjutant of the +corps commander, who was fetched, conducted him into the village to +Marshal Davout. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Davout was to Napoleon what Arakcheev was to Alexander--though not a +coward like Arakcheev, he was as precise, as cruel, and as unable to +express his devotion to his monarch except by cruelty. + +In the organism of states such men are necessary, as wolves are +necessary in the organism of nature, and they always exist, always +appear and hold their own, however incongruous their presence and +their proximity to the head of the government may be. This +inevitability alone can explain how the cruel Arakcheev, who tore +out a grenadier's mustache with his own hands, whose weak nerves +rendered him unable to face danger, and who was neither an educated +man nor a courtier, was able to maintain his powerful position with +Alexander, whose own character was chivalrous, noble, and gentle. + +Balashev found Davout seated on a barrel in the shed of a +peasant's hut, writing--he was auditing accounts. Better quarters +could have been found him, but Marshal Davout was one of those men who +purposely put themselves in most depressing conditions to have a +justification for being gloomy. For the same reason they are always +hard at work and in a hurry. "How can I think of the bright side of +life when, as you see, I am sitting on a barrel and working in a dirty +shed?" the expression of his face seemed to say. The chief pleasure +and necessity of such men, when they encounter anyone who shows +animation, is to flaunt their own dreary, persistent activity. +Davout allowed himself that pleasure when Balashev was brought in. +He became still more absorbed in his task when the Russian general +entered, and after glancing over his spectacles at Balashev's face, +which was animated by the beauty of the morning and by his talk with +Murat, he did not rise or even stir, but scowled still more and +sneered malevolently. + +When he noticed in Balashev's face the disagreeable impression +this reception produced, Davout raised his head and coldly asked +what he wanted. + +Thinking he could have been received in such a manner only because +Davout did not know that he was adjutant general to the Emperor +Alexander and even his envoy to Napoleon, Balashev hastened to +inform him of his rank and mission. Contrary to his expectation, +Davout, after hearing him, became still surlier and ruder. + +"Where is your dispatch?" he inquired. "Give it to me. I will send +it to the Emperor." + +Balashev replied that he had been ordered to hand it personally to +the Emperor. + +"Your Emperor's orders are obeyed in your army, but here," said +Davout, "you must do as you're told." + +And, as if to make the Russian general still more conscious of his +dependence on brute force, Davout sent an adjutant to call the officer +on duty. + +Balashev took out the packet containing the Emperor's letter and +laid it on the table (made of a door with its hinges still hanging +on it, laid across two barrels). Davout took the packet and read the +inscription. + +"You are perfectly at liberty to treat me with respect or not," +protested Balashev, "but permit me to observe that I have the honor to +be adjutant general to His Majesty...." + +Davout glanced at him silently and plainly derived pleasure from the +signs of agitation and confusion which appeared on Balashev's face. + +"You will be treated as is fitting," said he and, putting the packet +in his pocket, left the shed. + +A minute later the marshal's adjutant, de Castres, came in and +conducted Balashev to the quarters assigned him. + +That day he dined with the marshal, at the same board on the +barrels. + +Next day Davout rode out early and, after asking Balashev to come to +him, peremptorily requested him to remain there, to move on with the +baggage train should orders come for it to move, and to talk to no one +except Monsieur de Castres. + +After four days of solitude, ennui, and consciousness of his +impotence and insignificance--particularly acute by contrast with +the sphere of power in which he had so lately moved--and after several +marches with the marshal's baggage and the French army, which occupied +the whole district, Balashev was brought to Vilna--now occupied by the +French--through the very gate by which he had left it four days +previously. + +Next day the imperial gentleman-in-waiting, the Comte de Turenne, +came to Balashev and informed him of the Emperor Napoleon's wish to +honor him with an audience. + +Four days before, sentinels of the Preobrazhensk regiment had +stood in front of the house to which Balashev was conducted, and now +two French grenadiers stood there in blue uniforms unfastened in front +and with shaggy caps on their heads, and an escort of hussars and +Uhlans and a brilliant suite of aides-de-camp, pages, and generals, +who were waiting for Napoleon to come out, were standing at the porch, +round his saddle horse and his Mameluke, Rustan. Napoleon received +Balashev in the very house in Vilna from which Alexander had +dispatched him on his mission. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Though Balashev was used to imperial pomp, he was amazed at the +luxury and magnificence of Napoleon's court. + +The Comte de Turenne showed him into a big reception room where many +generals, gentlemen-in-waiting, and Polish magnates--several of whom +Balashev had seen at the court of the Emperor of Russia--were waiting. +Duroc said that Napoleon would receive the Russian general before +going for his ride. + +After some minutes, the gentleman-in-waiting who was on duty came +into the great reception room and, bowing politely, asked Balashev +to follow him. + +Balashev went into a small reception room, one door of which led +into a study, the very one from which the Russian Emperor had +dispatched him on his mission. He stood a minute or two, waiting. He +heard hurried footsteps beyond the door, both halves of it were opened +rapidly; all was silent and then from the study the sound was heard of +other steps, firm and resolute--they were those of Napoleon. He had +just finished dressing for his ride, and wore a blue uniform, +opening in front over a white waistcoat so long that it covered his +rotund stomach, white leather breeches tightly fitting the fat +thighs of his short legs, and Hessian boots. His short hair had +evidently just been brushed, but one lock hung down in the middle of +his broad forehead. His plump white neck stood out sharply above the +black collar of his uniform, and he smelled of Eau de Cologne. His +full face, rather young-looking, with its prominent chin, wore a +gracious and majestic expression of imperial welcome. + +He entered briskly, with a jerk at every step and his head +slightly thrown back. His whole short corpulent figure with broad +thick shoulders, and chest and stomach involuntarily protruding, had +that imposing and stately appearance one sees in men of forty who live +in comfort. It was evident, too, that he was in the best of spirits +that day. + +He nodded in answer to Balashav's low and respectful bow, and coming +up to him at once began speaking like a man who values every moment of +his time and does not condescend to prepare what he has to say but +is sure he will always say the right thing and say it well. + +"Good day, General!" said he. "I have received the letter you +brought from the Emperor Alexander and am very glad to see you." He +glanced with his large eyes into Balashav's face and immediately +looked past him. + +It was plain that Balashev's personality did not interest him at +all. Evidently only what took place within his own mind interested +him. Nothing outside himself had any significance for him, because +everything in the world, it seemed to him, depended entirely on his +will. + +"I do not, and did not, desire war," he continued, "but it has +been forced on me. Even now" (he emphasized the word) "I am ready to +receive any explanations you can give me." + +And he began clearly and concisely to explain his reasons for +dissatisfaction with the Russian government. Judging by the calmly +moderate and amicable tone in which the French Emperor spoke, Balashev +was firmly persuaded that he wished for peace and intended to enter +into negotiations. + +When Napoleon, having finished speaking, looked inquiringly at the +Russian envoy, Balashev began a speech he had prepared long before: +"Sire! The Emperor, my master..." but the sight of the Emperor's +eyes bent on him confused him. "You are flurried--compose yourself!" +Napoleon seemed to say, as with a scarcely perceptible smile he looked +at Balashev's uniform and sword. + +Balashev recovered himself and began to speak. He said that the +Emperor Alexander did not consider Kurakin's demand for his +passports a sufficient cause for war; that Kurakin had acted on his +own initiative and without his sovereign's assent, that the Emperor +Alexander did not desire war, and had no relations with England. + +"Not yet!" interposed Napoleon, and, as if fearing to give vent to +his feelings, he frowned and nodded slightly as a sign that Balashev +might proceed. + +After saying all he had been instructed to say, Balashev added +that the Emperor Alexander wished for peace, but would not enter +into negotiations except on condition that... Here Balashev hesitated: +he remembered the words the Emperor Alexander had not written in his +letter, but had specially inserted in the rescript to Saltykov and had +told Balashev to repeat to Napoleon. Balashev remembered these +words, "So long as a single armed foe remains on Russian soil," but +some complex feeling restrained him. He could not utter them, though +he wished to do so. He grew confused and said: "On condition that +the French army retires beyond the Niemen." + +Napoleon noticed Balashev's embarrassment when uttering these last +words; his face twitched and the calf of his left leg began to +quiver rhythmically. Without moving from where he stood he began +speaking in a louder tone and more hurriedly than before. During the +speech that followed, Balashev, who more than once lowered his eyes, +involuntarily noticed the quivering of Napoleon's left leg which +increased the more Napoleon raised his voice. + +"I desire peace, no less than the Emperor Alexander," he began. +"Have I not for eighteen months been doing everything to obtain it? +I have waited eighteen months for explanations. But in order to +begin negotiations, what is demanded of me?" he said, frowning and +making an energetic gesture of inquiry with his small white plump +hand. + +"The withdrawal of your army beyond the Niemen, sire," replied +Balashev. + +"The Niemen?" repeated Napoleon. "So now you want me to retire +beyond the Niemen--only the Niemen?" repeated Napoleon, looking +straight at Balashev. + +The latter bowed his head respectfully. + +Instead of the demand of four months earlier to withdraw from +Pomerania, only a withdrawal beyond the Niemen was now demanded. +Napoleon turned quickly and began to pace the room. + +"You say the demand now is that I am to withdraw beyond the Niemen +before commencing negotiations, but in just the same way two months +ago the demand was that I should withdraw beyond the Vistula and the +Oder, and yet you are willing to negotiate." + +He went in silence from one corner of the room to the other and +again stopped in front of Balashev. Balashev noticed that his left leg +was quivering faster than before and his face seemed petrified in +its stern expression. This quivering of his left leg was a thing +Napoleon was conscious of. "The vibration of my left calf is a great +sign with me," he remarked at a later date. + +"Such demands as to retreat beyond the Vistula and Oder may be +made to a Prince of Baden, but not to me!" Napoleon almost screamed, +quite to his own surprise. "If you gave me Petersburg and Moscow I +could not accept such conditions. You say I have begun this war! But +who first joined his army? The Emperor Alexander, not I! And you offer +me negotiations when I have expended millions, when you are in +alliance with England, and when your position is a bad one. You +offer me negotiations! But what is the aim of your alliance with +England? What has she given you?" he continued hurriedly, evidently no +longer trying to show the advantages of peace and discuss its +possibility, but only to prove his own rectitude and power and +Alexander's errors and duplicity. + +The commencement of his speech had obviously been made with the +intention of demonstrating the advantages of his position and +showing that he was nevertheless willing to negotiate. But he had +begun talking, and the more he talked the less could he control his +words. + +The whole purport of his remarks now was evidently to exalt +himself and insult Alexander--just what he had least desired at the +commencement of the interview. + +"I hear you have made peace with Turkey?" + +Balashev bowed his head affirmatively. + +"Peace has been concluded..." he began. + +But Napoleon did not let him speak. He evidently wanted to do all +the talking himself, and continued to talk with the sort of +eloquence and unrestrained irritability to which spoiled people are so +prone. + +"Yes, I know you have made peace with the Turks without obtaining +Moldavia and Wallachia; I would have given your sovereign those +provinces as I gave him Finland. Yes," he went on, "I promised and +would have given the Emperor Alexander Moldavia and Wallachia, and now +he won't have those splendid provinces. Yet he might have united +them to his empire and in a single reign would have extended Russia +from the Gulf of Bothnia to the mouths of the Danube. Catherine the +Great could not have done more," said Napoleon, growing more and +more excited as he paced up and down the room, repeating to Balashev +almost the very words he had used to Alexander himself at Tilsit. "All +that, he would have owed to my friendship. Oh, what a splendid reign!" +he repeated several times, then paused, drew from his pocket a gold +snuffbox, lifted it to his nose, and greedily sniffed at it. + +"What a splendid reign the Emperor Alexander's might have been!" + +He looked compassionately at Balashev, and as soon as the latter +tried to make some rejoinder hastily interrupted him. + +"What could he wish or look for that he would not have obtained +through my friendship?" demanded Napoleon, shrugging his shoulders +in perplexity. "But no, he has preferred to surround himself with my +enemies, and with whom? With Steins, Armfeldts, Bennigsens, and +Wintzingerodes! Stein, a traitor expelled from his own country; +Armfeldt, a rake and an intriguer; Wintzingerode, a fugitive French +subject; Bennigsen, rather more of a soldier than the others, but +all the same an incompetent who was unable to do anything in 1807 +and who should awaken terrible memories in the Emperor Alexander's +mind.... Granted that were they competent they might be made use +of," continued Napoleon--hardly able to keep pace in words with the +rush of thoughts that incessantly sprang up, proving how right and +strong he was (in his perception the two were one and the same)- +"but they are not even that! They are neither fit for war nor peace! +Barclay is said to be the most capable of them all, but I cannot say +so, judging by his first movements. And what are they doing, all these +courtiers? Pfuel proposes, Armfeldt disputes, Bennigsen considers, and +Barclay, called on to act, does not know what to decide on, and time +passes bringing no result. Bagration alone is a military man. He's +stupid, but he has experience, a quick eye, and resolution.... And +what role is your young monarch playing in that monstrous crowd? +They compromise him and throw on him the responsibility for all that +happens. A sovereign should not be with the army unless he is a +general!" said Napoleon, evidently uttering these words as a direct +challenge to the Emperor. He knew how Alexander desired to be a +military commander. + +"The campaign began only a week ago, and you haven't even been +able to defend Vilna. You are cut in two and have been driven out of +the Polish provinces. Your army is grumbling." + +"On the contrary, Your Majesty," said Balashev, hardly able to +remember what had been said to him and following these verbal +fireworks with difficulty, "the troops are burning with eagerness..." + +"I know everything!" Napoleon interrupted him. "I know everything. I +know the number of your battalions as exactly as I know my own. You +have not two hundred thousand men, and I have three times that number. +I give you my word of honor," said Napoleon, forgetting that his +word of honor could carry no weight--"I give you my word of honor that +I have five hundred and thirty thousand men this side of the +Vistula. The Turks will be of no use to you; they are worth nothing +and have shown it by making peace with you. As for the Swedes--it is +their fate to be governed by mad kings. Their king was insane and they +changed him for another--Bernadotte, who promptly went mad--for no +Swede would ally himself with Russia unless he were mad." + +Napoleon grinned maliciously and again raised his snuffbox to his +nose. + +Balashev knew how to reply to each of Napoleon's remarks, and +would have done so; he continually made the gesture of a man wishing +to say something, but Napoleon always interrupted him. To the +alleged insanity of the Swedes, Balashev wished to reply that when +Russia is on her side Sweden is practically an island: but Napoleon +gave an angry exclamation to drown his voice. Napoleon was in that +state of irritability in which a man has to talk, talk, and talk, +merely to convince himself that he is in the right. Balashev began +to feel uncomfortable: as envoy he feared to demean his dignity and +felt the necessity of replying; but, as a man, he shrank before the +transport of groundless wrath that had evidently seized Napoleon. He +knew that none of the words now uttered by Napoleon had any +significance, and that Napoleon himself would be ashamed of them +when he came to his senses. Balashev stood with downcast eyes, looking +at the movements of Napoleon's stout legs and trying to avoid +meeting his eyes. + +"But what do I care about your allies?" said Napoleon. "I have +allies--the Poles. There are eighty thousand of them and they fight +like lions. And there will be two hundred thousand of them." + +And probably still more perturbed by the fact that he had uttered +this obvious falsehood, and that Balashev still stood silently +before him in the same attitude of submission to fate, Napoleon +abruptly turned round, drew close to Balashev's face, and, +gesticulating rapidly and energetically with his white hands, almost +shouted: + +"Know that if you stir up Prussia against me, I'll wipe it off the +map of Europe!" he declared, his face pale and distorted by anger, and +he struck one of his small hands energetically with the other. "Yes, I +will throw you back beyond the Dvina and beyond the Dnieper, and +will re-erect against you that barrier which it was criminal and blind +of Europe to allow to be destroyed. Yes, that is what will happen to +you. That is what you have gained by alienating me!" And he walked +silently several times up and down the room, his fat shoulders +twitching. + +He put his snuffbox into his waistcoat pocket, took it out again, +lifted it several times to his nose, and stopped in front of Balashev. +He paused, looked ironically straight into Balashev's eyes, and said +in a quiet voice: + +"And yet what a splendid reign your master might have had!" + +Balashev, feeling it incumbent on him to reply, said that from the +Russian side things did not appear in so gloomy a light. Napoleon +was silent, still looking derisively at him and evidently not +listening to him. Balashev said that in Russia the best results were +expected from the war. Napoleon nodded condescendingly, as if to +say, "I know it's your duty to say that, but you don't believe it +yourself. I have convinced you." + +When Balashev had ended, Napoleon again took out his snuffbox, +sniffed at it, and stamped his foot twice on the floor as a signal. +The door opened, a gentleman-in-waiting, bending respectfully, +handed the Emperor his hat and gloves; another brought him a pocket +handkerchief. Napoleon, without giving them a glance, turned to +Balashev: + +"Assure the Emperor Alexander from me," said he, taking his hat, +"that I am as devoted to him as before: I know him thoroughly and very +highly esteem his lofty qualities. I will detain you no longer, +General; you shall receive my letter to the Emperor." + +And Napoleon went quickly to the door. Everyone in the reception +room rushed forward and descended the staircase. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +After all that Napoleon had said to him--those bursts of anger and +the last dryly spoken words: "I will detain you no longer, General; +you shall receive my letter," Balashev felt convinced that Napoleon +would not wish to see him, and would even avoid another meeting with +him--an insulted envoy--especially as he had witnessed his unseemly +anger. But, to his surprise, Balashev received, through Duroc, an +invitation to dine with the Emperor that day. + +Bessieres, Caulaincourt, and Berthier were present at that dinner. + +Napoleon met Balashev cheerfully and amiably. He not only showed +no sign of constraint or self-reproach on account of his outburst that +morning, but, on the contrary, tried to reassure Balashev. It was +evident that he had long been convinced that it was impossible for him +to make a mistake, and that in his perception whatever he did was +right, not because it harmonized with any idea of right and wrong, but +because he did it. + +The Emperor was in very good spirits after his ride through Vilna, +where crowds of people had rapturously greeted and followed him. +From all the windows of the streets through which he rode, rugs, +flags, and his monogram were displayed, and the Polish ladies, +welcoming him, waved their handkerchiefs to him. + +At dinner, having placed Balashev beside him, Napoleon not only +treated him amiably but behaved as if Balashev were one of his own +courtiers, one of those who sympathized with his plans and ought to +rejoice at his success. In the course of conversation he mentioned +Moscow and questioned Balashev about the Russian capital, not merely +as an interested traveler asks about a new city he intends to visit, +but as if convinced that Balashev, as a Russian, must be flattered +by his curiosity. + +"How many inhabitants are there in Moscow? How many houses? Is it +true that Moscow is called 'Holy Moscow'? How many churches are +there in Moscow?" he asked. + +And receiving the reply that there were more than two hundred +churches, he remarked: + +"Why such a quantity of churches?" + +"The Russians are very devout," replied Balashev. + +"But a large number of monasteries and churches is always a sign +of the backwardness of a people," said Napoleon, turning to +Caulaincourt for appreciation of this remark. + +Balashev respectfully ventured to disagree with the French Emperor. + +"Every country has its own character," said he. + +"But nowhere in Europe is there anything like that," said Napoleon. + +"I beg your Majesty's pardon," returned Balashev, "besides Russia +there is Spain, where there are also many churches and monasteries." + +This reply of Balashev's, which hinted at the recent defeats of +the French in Spain, was much appreciated when he related it at +Alexander's court, but it was not much appreciated at Napoleon's +dinner, where it passed unnoticed. + +The uninterested and perplexed faces of the marshals showed that +they were puzzled as to what Balashev's tone suggested. "If there is a +point we don't see it, or it is not at all witty," their expressions +seemed to say. So little was his rejoinder appreciated that Napoleon +did not notice it at all and naively asked Balashev through what towns +the direct road from there to Moscow passed. Balashev, who was on +the alert all through the dinner, replied that just as "all roads lead +to Rome," so all roads lead to Moscow: there were many roads, and +"among them the road through Poltava, which Charles XII chose." +Balashev involuntarily flushed with pleasure at the aptitude of this +reply, but hardly had he uttered the word Poltava before +Caulaincourt began speaking of the badness of the road from Petersburg +to Moscow and of his Petersburg reminiscences. + +After dinner they went to drink coffee in Napoleon's study, which +four days previously had been that of the Emperor Alexander. +Napoleon sat down, toying with his Sevres coffee cup, and motioned +Balashev to a chair beside him. + +Napoleon was in that well-known after-dinner mood which, more than +any reasoned cause, makes a man contented with himself and disposed to +consider everyone his friend. It seemed to him that he was +surrounded by men who adored him: and he felt convinced that, after +his dinner, Balashev too was his friend and worshiper. Napoleon turned +to him with a pleasant, though slightly ironic, smile. + +"They tell me this is the room the Emperor Alexander occupied? +Strange, isn't it, General?" he said, evidently not doubting that this +remark would be agreeable to his hearer since it went to prove his, +Napoleon's, superiority to Alexander. + +Balashev made no reply and bowed his head in silence. + +"Yes. Four days ago in this room, Wintzingerode and Stein were +deliberating," continued Napoleon with the same derisive and +self-confident smile. "What I can't understand," he went on, "is +that the Emperor Alexander has surrounded himself with my personal +enemies. That I do not... understand. Has he not thought that I may +the same?" and he turned inquiringly to Balashev, and evidently this +thought turned him back on to the track of his morning's anger, +which was still fresh in him. + +"And let him know that I will do so!" said Napoleon, rising and +pushing his cup away with his hand. "I'll drive all his Wurttemberg, +Baden, and Weimar relations out of Germany.... Yes. I'll drive them +out. Let him prepare an asylum for them in Russia!" + +Balashev bowed his head with an air indicating that he would like to +make his bow and leave, and only listened because he could not help +hearing what was said to him. Napoleon did not notice this expression; +he treated Balashev not as an envoy from his enemy, but as a man now +fully devoted to him and who must rejoice at his former master's +humiliation. + +"And why has the Emperor Alexander taken command of the armies? What +is the good of that? War is my profession, but his business is to +reign and not to command armies! Why has he taken on himself such a +responsibility?" + +Again Napoleon brought out his snuffbox, paced several times up +and down the room in silence, and then, suddenly and unexpectedly, +went up to Balashev and with a slight smile, as confidently, +quickly, and simply as if he were doing something not merely +important but pleasing to Balashev, he raised his hand to the +forty-year-old Russian general's face and, taking him by the ear, +pulled it gently, smiling with his lips only. + +To have one's ear pulled by the Emperor was considered the +greatest honor and mark of favor at the French court. + +"Well, adorer and courtier of the Emperor Alexander, why don't you +say anything?" said he, as if it was ridiculous, in his presence, to +be the adorer and courtier of anyone but himself, Napoleon. "Are the +horses ready for the general?" he added, with a slight inclination +of his head in reply to Balashev's bow. "Let him have mine, he has a +long way to go!" + +The letter taken by Balashev was the last Napoleon sent to +Alexander. Every detail of the interview was communicated to the +Russian monarch, and the war began... + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +After his interview with Pierre in Moscow, Prince Andrew went to +Petersburg, on business as he told his family, but really to meet +Anatole Kuragin whom he felt it necessary to encounter. On reaching +Petersburg he inquired for Kuragin but the latter had already left the +city. Pierre had warned his brother-in-law that Prince Andrew was on +his track. Anatole Kuragin promptly obtained an appointment from the +Minister of War and went to join the army in Moldavia. While in +Petersburg Prince Andrew met Kutuzov, his former commander who was +always well disposed toward him, and Kutuzov suggested that he +should accompany him to the army in Moldavia, to which the old general +had been appointed commander in chief. So Prince Andrew, having +received an appointment on the headquarters staff, left for Turkey. + +Prince Andrew did not think it proper to write and challenge +Kuragin. He thought that if he challenged him without some fresh cause +it might compromise the young Countess Rostova and so he wanted to +meet Kuragin personally in order to find a fresh pretext for a duel. +But he again failed to meet Kuragin in Turkey, for soon after Prince +Andrew arrived, the latter returned to Russia. In a new country, +amid new conditions, Prince Andrew found life easier to bear. After +his betrothed had broken faith with him--which he felt the more +acutely the more he tried to conceal its effects--the surroundings +in which he had been happy became trying to him, and the freedom and +independence he had once prized so highly were still more so. Not only +could he no longer think the thoughts that had first come to him as he +lay gazing at the sky on the field of Austerlitz and had later +enlarged upon with Pierre, and which had filled his solitude at +Bogucharovo and then in Switzerland and Rome, but he even dreaded to +recall them and the bright and boundless horizons they had +revealed. He was now concerned only with the nearest practical matters +unrelated to his past interests, and he seized on these the more +eagerly the more those past interests were closed to him. It was as if +that lofty, infinite canopy of heaven that had once towered above +him had suddenly turned into a low, solid vault that weighed him down, +in which all was clear, but nothing eternal or mysterious. + +Of the activities that presented themselves to him, army service was +the simplest and most familiar. As a general on duty on Kutuzov's +staff, he applied himself to business with zeal and perseverance and +surprised Kutuzov by his willingness and accuracy in work. Not +having found Kuragin in Turkey, Prince Andrew did not think it +necessary to rush back to Russia after him, but all the same he knew +that however long it might be before he met Kuragin, despite his +contempt for him and despite all the proofs he deduced to convince +himself that it was not worth stooping to a conflict with him--he knew +that when he did meet him he would not be able to resist calling him +out, any more than a ravenous man can help snatching at food. And +the consciousness that the insult was not yet avenged, that his rancor +was still unspent, weighed on his heart and poisoned the artificial +tranquillity which he managed to obtain in Turkey by means of +restless, plodding, and rather vainglorious and ambitious activity. + +In the year 1812, when news of the war with Napoleon reached +Bucharest--where Kutuzov had been living for two months, passing his +days and nights with a Wallachian woman--Prince Andrew asked Kutuzov +to transfer him to the Western Army. Kutuzov, who was already weary of +Bolkonski's activity which seemed to reproach his own idleness, very +readily let him go and gave him a mission to Barclay de Tolly. + +Before joining the Western Army which was then, in May, encamped +at Drissa, Prince Andrew visited Bald Hills which was directly on +his way, being only two miles off the Smolensk highroad. During the +last three years there had been so many changes in his life, he had +thought, felt, and seen so much (having traveled both in the east +and the west), that on reaching Bald Hills it struck him as strange +and unexpected to find the way of life there unchanged and still the +same in every detail. He entered through the gates with their stone +pillars and drove up the avenue leading to the house as if he were +entering an enchanted, sleeping castle. The same old stateliness, +the same cleanliness, the same stillness reigned there, and inside +there was the same furniture, the same walls, sounds, and smell, and +the same timid faces, only somewhat older. Princess Mary was still the +same timid, plain maiden getting on in years, uselessly and +joylessly passing the best years of her life in fear and constant +suffering. Mademoiselle Bourienne was the same coquettish, +self-satisfied girl, enjoying every moment of her existence and full +of joyous hopes for the future. She had merely become more +self-confident, Prince Andrew thought. Dessalles, the tutor he had +brought from Switzerland, was wearing a coat of Russian cut and +talking broken Russian to the servants, but was still the same +narrowly intelligent, conscientious, and pedantic preceptor. The old +prince had changed in appearance only by the loss of a tooth, which +left a noticeable gap on one side of his mouth; in character he was +the same as ever, only showing still more irritability and +skepticism as to what was happening in the world. Little Nicholas +alone had changed. He had grown, become rosier, had curly dark hair, +and, when merry and laughing, quite unconsciously lifted the upper lip +of his pretty little mouth just as the little princess used to do. +He alone did not obey the law of immutability in the enchanted, +sleeping castle. But though externally all remained as of old, the +inner relations of all these people had changed since Prince Andrew +had seen them last. The household was divided into two alien and +hostile camps, who changed their habits for his sake and only met +because he was there. To the one camp belonged the old prince, +Madmoiselle Bourienne, and the architect; to the other Princess +Mary, Dessalles, little Nicholas, and all the old nurses and maids. + +During his stay at Bald Hills all the family dined together, but +they were ill at ease and Prince Andrew felt that he was a visitor for +whose sake an exception was being made and that his presence made them +all feel awkward. Involuntarily feeling this at dinner on the first +day, he was taciturn, and the old prince noticing this also became +morosely dumb and retired to his apartments directly after dinner. +In the evening, when Prince Andrew went to him and, trying to rouse +him, began to tell him of the young Count Kamensky's campaign, the old +prince began unexpectedly to talk about Princess Mary, blaming her for +her superstitions and her dislike of Mademoiselle Bourienne, who, he +said, was the only person really attached to him. + +The old prince said that if he was ill it was only because of +Princess Mary: that she purposely worried and irritated him, and +that by indulgence and silly talk she was spoiling little Prince +Nicholas. The old prince knew very well that he tormented his daughter +and that her life was very hard, but he also knew that he could not +help tormenting her and that she deserved it. "Why does Prince Andrew, +who sees this, say nothing to me about his sister? Does he think me +a scoundrel, or an old fool who, without any reason, keeps his own +daughter at a distance and attaches this Frenchwoman to himself? He +doesn't understand, so I must explain it, and he must hear me out," +thought the old prince. And he began explaining why he could not put +up with his daughter's unreasonable character. + +"If you ask me," said Prince Andrew, without looking up (he was +censuring his father for the first time in his life), "I did not +wish to speak about it, but as you ask me I will give you my frank +opinion. If there is any misunderstanding and discord between you +and Mary, I can't blame her for it at all. I know how she loves and +respects you. Since you ask me," continued Prince Andrew, becoming +irritable--as he was always liable to do of late--"I can only say that +if there are any misunderstandings they are caused by that worthless +woman, who is not fit to be my sister's companion." + +The old man at first stared fixedly at his son, and an unnatural +smile disclosed the fresh gap between his teeth to which Prince Andrew +could not get accustomed. + +"What companion, my dear boy? Eh? You've already been talking it +over! Eh?" + +"Father, I did not want to judge," said Prince Andrew, in a hard and +bitter tone, "but you challenged me, and I have said, and always shall +say, that Mary is not to blame, but those to blame--the one to +blame--is that Frenchwoman." + +"Ah, he has passed judgment... passed judgement!" said the old man +in a low voice and, as it seemed to Prince Andrew, with some +embarrassment, but then he suddenly jumped up and cried: "Be off, be +off! Let not a trace of you remain here!..." + + +Prince Andrew wished to leave at once, but Princess Mary persuaded +him to stay another day. That day he did not see his father, who did +not leave his room and admitted no one but Mademoiselle Bourienne +and Tikhon, but asked several times whether his son had gone. Next +day, before leaving, Prince Andrew went to his son's rooms. The boy, +curly-headed like his mother and glowing with health, sat on his knee, +and Prince Andrew began telling him the story of Bluebeard, but fell +into a reverie without finishing the story. He thought not of this +pretty child, his son whom he held on his knee, but of himself. He +sought in himself either remorse for having angered his father or +regret at leaving home for the first time in his life on bad terms +with him, and was horrified to find neither. What meant still more +to him was that he sought and did not find in himself the former +tenderness for his son which he had hoped to reawaken by caressing the +boy and taking him on his knee. + +"Well, go on!" said his son. + +Prince Andrew, without replying, put him down from his knee and went +out of the room. + +As soon as Prince Andrew had given up his daily occupations, and +especially on returning to the old conditions of life amid which he +had been happy, weariness of life overcame him with its former +intensity, and he hastened to escape from these memories and to find +some work as soon as possible. + +"So you've decided to go, Andrew?" asked his sister. + +"Thank God that I can," replied Prince Andrew. "I am very sorry +you can't." + +"Why do you say that?" replied Princess Mary. "Why do you say +that, when you are going to this terrible war, and he is so old? +Mademoiselle Bourienne says he has been asking about you...." + +As soon as she began to speak of that, her lips trembled and her +tears began to fall. Prince Andrew turned away and began pacing the +room. + +"Ah, my God! my God! When one thinks who and what--what trash--can +cause people misery!" he said with a malignity that alarmed Princess +Mary. + +She understood that when speaking of "trash" he referred not only to +Mademoiselle Bourienne, the cause of her misery, but also to the man +who had ruined his own happiness. + +"Andrew! One thing I beg, I entreat of you!" she said, touching +his elbow and looking at him with eyes that shone through her tears. +"I understand you" (she looked down). "Don't imagine that sorrow is +the work of men. Men are His tools." She looked a little above +Prince Andrew's head with the confident, accustomed look with which +one looks at the place where a familiar portrait hangs. "Sorrow is +sent by Him, not by men. Men are His instruments, they are not to +blame. If you think someone has wronged you, forget it and forgive! We +have no right to punish. And then you will know the happiness of +forgiving." + +"If I were a woman I would do so, Mary. That is a woman's virtue. +But a man should not and cannot forgive and forget," he replied, and +though till that moment he had not been thinking of Kuragin, all his +unexpended anger suddenly swelled up in his heart. + +"If Mary is already persuading me forgive, it means that I ought +long ago to have punished him," he thought. And giving her no +further reply, he began thinking of the glad vindictive moment when he +would meet Kuragin who he knew was now in the army. + +Princess Mary begged him to stay one day more, saying that she +knew how unhappy her father would be if Andrew left without being +reconciled to him, but Prince Andrew replied that he would probably +soon be back again from the army and would certainly write to his +father, but that the longer he stayed now the more embittered their +differences would become. + +"Good-by, Andrew! Remember that misfortunes come from God, and men +are never to blame," were the last words he heard from his sister when +he took leave of her. + +"Then it must be so!" thought Prince Andrew as he drove out of the +avenue from the house at Bald Hills. "She, poor innocent creature, +is left to be victimized by an old man who has outlived his wits. +The old man feels he is guilty, but cannot change himself. My boy is +growing up and rejoices in life, in which like everybody else he +will deceive or be deceived. And I am off to the army. Why? I myself +don't know. I want to meet that man whom I despise, so as to give +him a chance to kill and laugh at me!" + +These conditions of life had been the same before, but then they +were all connected, while now they had all tumbled to pieces. Only +senseless things, lacking coherence, presented themselves one after +another to Prince Andrew's mind. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Prince Andrew reached the general headquarters of the army at the +end of June. The first army, with which was the Emperor, occupied +the fortified camp at Drissa; the second army was retreating, trying +to effect a junction with the first one from which it was said to be +cut off by large French forces. Everyone was dissatisfied with the +general course of affairs in the Russian army, but no one +anticipated any danger of invasion of the Russian provinces, and no +one thought the war would extend farther than the western, the Polish, +provinces. + +Prince Andrew found Barclay de Tolly, to whom he had been +assigned, on the bank of the Drissa. As there was not a single town or +large village in the vicinity of the camp, the immense number of +generals and courtiers accompanying the army were living in the best +houses of the villages on both sides of the river, over a radius of +six miles. Barclay de Tolly was quartered nearly three miles from +the Emperor. He received Bolkonski stiffly and coldly and told him +in his foreign accent that he would mention him to the Emperor for a +decision as to his employment, but asked him meanwhile to remain on +his staff. Anatole Kuragin, whom Prince Andrew had hoped to find +with the army, was not there. He had gone to Petersburg, but Prince +Andrew was glad to hear this. His mind was occupied by the interests +of the center that was conducting a gigantic war, and he was glad to +be free for a while from the distraction caused by the thought of +Kuragin. During the first four days, while no duties were required +of him, Prince Andrew rode round the whole fortified camp and, by +the aid of his own knowledge and by talks with experts, tried to +form a definite opinion about it. But the question whether the camp +was advantageous or disadvantageous remained for him undecided. +Already from his military experience and what he had seen in the +Austrian campaign, he had come to the conclusion that in war the +most deeply considered plans have no significance and that all depends +on the way unexpected movements of the enemy--that cannot be foreseen- +are met, and on how and by whom the whole matter is handled. To +clear up this last point for himself, Prince Andrew, utilizing his +position and acquaintances, tried to fathom the character of the +control of the army and of the men and parties engaged in it, and he +deduced for himself the following of the state of affairs. + +While the Emperor had still been at Vilna, the forces had been +divided into three armies. First, the army under Barclay de Tolly, +secondly, the army under Bagration, and thirdly, the one commanded +by Tormasov. The Emperor was with the first army, but not as commander +in chief. In the orders issued it was stated, not that the Emperor +would take command, but only that he would be with the army. The +Emperor, moreover, had with him not a commander in chief's staff but +the imperial headquarters staff. In attendance on him was the head +of the imperial staff, Quartermaster General Prince Volkonski, as well +as generals, imperial aides-de-camp, diplomatic officials, and a large +number of foreigners, but not the army staff. Besides these, there +were in attendance on the Emperor without any definite appointments: +Arakcheev, the ex-Minister of War; Count Bennigsen, the senior general +in rank; the Grand Duke Tsarevich Constantine Pavlovich; Count +Rumyantsev, the Chancellor; Stein, a former Prussian minister; +Armfeldt, a Swedish general; Pfuel, the chief author of the plan of +campaign; Paulucci, an adjutant general and Sardinian emigre; +Wolzogen--and many others. Though these men had no military +appointment in the army, their position gave them influence, and often +a corps commander, or even the commander in chief, did not know in +what capacity he was questioned by Bennigsen, the Grand Duke, +Arakcheev, or Prince Volkonski, or was given this or that advice and +did not know whether a certain order received in the form of advice +emanated from the man who gave it or from the Emperor and whether it +had to be executed or not. But this was only the external condition; +the essential significance of the presence of the Emperor and of all +these people, from a courtier's point of view (and in an Emperor's +vicinity all became courtiers), was clear to everyone. It was this: +the Emperor did not assume the title of commander in chief, but +disposed of all the armies; the men around him were his assistants. +Arakcheev was a faithful custodian to enforce order and acted as the +sovereign's bodyguard. Bennigsen was a landlord in the Vilna +province who appeared to be doing the honors of the district, but +was in reality a good general, useful as an adviser and ready at +hand to replace Barclay. The Grand Duke was there because it suited +him to be. The ex-Minister Stein was there because his advice was +useful and the Emperor Alexander held him in high esteem personally. +Armfeldt virulently hated Napoleon and was a general full of +self-confidence, a quality that always influenced Alexander. +Paulucci was there because he was bold and decided in speech. The +adjutants general were there because they always accompanied the +Emperor, and lastly and chiefly Pfuel was there because he had drawn +up the plan of campaign against Napoleon and, having induced Alexander +to believe in the efficacy of that plan, was directing the whole +business of the war. With Pfuel was Wolzogen, who expressed Pfuel's +thoughts in a more comprehensible way than Pfuel himself (who was a +harsh, bookish theorist, self-confident to the point of despising +everyone else) was able to do. + +Besides these Russians and foreigners who propounded new and +unexpected ideas every day--especially the foreigners, who did so with +a boldness characteristic of people employed in a country not their +own--there were many secondary personages accompanying the army +because their principals were there. + +Among the opinions and voices in this immense, restless, +brilliant, and proud sphere, Prince Andrew noticed the following +sharply defined subdivisions of and parties: + +The first party consisted of Pfuel and his adherents--military +theorists who believed in a science of war with immutable laws--laws +of oblique movements, outflankings, and so forth. Pfuel and his +adherents demanded a retirement into the depths of the country in +accordance with precise laws defined by a pseudo-theory of war, and +they saw only barbarism, ignorance, or evil intention in every +deviation from that theory. To this party belonged the foreign nobles, +Wolzogen, Wintzingerode, and others, chiefly Germans. + +The second party was directly opposed to the first; one extreme, +as always happens, was met by representatives of the other. The +members of this party were those who had demanded an advance from +Vilna into Poland and freedom from all prearranged plans. Besides +being advocates of bold action, this section also represented +nationalism, which made them still more one-sided in the dispute. They +were Russians: Bagration, Ermolov (who was beginning to come to the +front), and others. At that time a famous joke of Ermolov's was +being circulated, that as a great favor he had petitioned the +Emperor to make him a German. The men of that party, remembering +Suvorov, said that what one had to do was not to reason, or stick pins +into maps, but to fight, beat the enemy, keep him out of Russia, and +not let the army get discouraged. + +To the third party--in which the Emperor had most confidence- +belonged the courtiers who tried to arrange compromises between the +other two. The members of this party, chiefly civilians and to whom +Arakcheev belonged, thought and said what men who have no +convictions but wish to seem to have some generally say. They said +that undoubtedly war, particularly against such a genius as +Bonaparte (they called him Bonaparte now), needs most deeply devised +plans and profound scientific knowledge and in that respect Pfuel +was a genius, but at the same time it had to be acknowledged that +the theorists are often one sided, and therefore one should not +trust them absolutely, but should also listen to what Pfuel's +opponents and practical men of experience in warfare had to say, and +then choose a middle course. They insisted on the retention of the +camp at Drissa, according to Pfuel's plan, but on changing the +movements of the other armies. Though, by this course, neither one aim +nor the other could be attained, yet it seemed best to the adherents +of this third party. + +Of a fourth opinion the most conspicuous representative was the +Tsarevich, who could not forget his disillusionment at Austerlitz, +where he had ridden out at the head of the Guards, in his casque and +cavalry uniform as to a review, expecting to crush the French +gallantly; but unexpectedly finding himself in the front line had +narrowly escaped amid the general confusion. The men of this party had +both the quality and the defect of frankness in their opinions. They +feared Napoleon, recognized his strength and their own weakness, and +frankly said so. They said: "Nothing but sorrow, shame, and ruin +will come of all this! We have abandoned Vilna and Vitebsk and shall +abandon Drissa. The only reasonable thing left to do is to conclude +peace as soon as possible, before we are turned out of Petersburg." + +This view was very general in the upper army circles and found +support also in Petersburg and from the chancellor, Rumyantsev, who, +for other reasons of state, was in favor of peace. + +The fifth party consisted of those who were adherents of Barclay +de Tolly, not so much as a man but as minister of war and commander in +chief. "Be he what he may" (they always began like that), "he is an +honest, practical man and we have nobody better. Give him real +power, for war cannot be conducted successfully without unity of +command, and he will show what he can do, as he did in Finland. If our +army is well organized and strong and has withdrawn to Drissa +without suffering any defeats, we owe this entirely to Barclay. If +Barclay is now to be superseded by Bennigsen all will be lost, for +Bennigsen showed his incapacity already in 1807." + +The sixth party, the Bennigsenites, said, on the contrary, that at +any rate there was no one more active and experienced than +Bennigsen: "and twist about as you may, you will have to come to +Bennigsen eventually. Let the others make mistakes now!" said they, +arguing that our retirement to Drissa was a most shameful reverse +and an unbroken series of blunders. "The more mistakes that are made +the better. It will at any rate be understood all the sooner that +things cannot go on like this. What is wanted is not some Barclay or +other, but a man like Bennigsen, who made his mark in 1807, and to +whom Napoleon himself did justice--a man whose authority would be +willingly recognized, and Bennigsen is the only such man." + +The seventh party consisted of the sort of people who are always +to be found, especially around young sovereigns, and of whom there +were particularly many round Alexander--generals and imperial +aides-de-camp passionately devoted to the Emperor, not merely as a +monarch but as a man, adoring him sincerely and disinterestedly, as +Rostov had done in 1805, and who saw in him not only all the virtues +but all human capabilities as well. These men, though enchanted with +the sovereign for refusing the command of the army, yet blamed him for +such excessive modesty, and only desired and insisted that their +adored sovereign should abandon his diffidence and openly announce +that he would place himself at the head of the army, gather round +him a commander in chief's staff, and, consulting experienced +theoreticians and practical men where necessary, would himself lead +the troops, whose spirits would thereby be raised to the highest +pitch. + +The eighth and largest group, which in its enormous numbers was to +the others as ninety-nine to one, consisted of men who desired neither +peace nor war, neither an advance nor a defensive camp at the Drissa +or anywhere else, neither Barclay nor the Emperor, neither Pfuel nor +Bennigsen, but only the one most essential thing--as much advantage +and pleasure for themselves as possible. In the troubled waters of +conflicting and intersecting intrigues that eddied about the Emperor's +headquarters, it was possible to succeed in many ways unthinkable at +other times. A man who simply wished to retain his lucrative post +would today agree with Pfuel, tomorrow with his opponent, and the +day after, merely to avoid responsibility or to please the Emperor, +would declare that he had no opinion at all on the matter. Another who +wished to gain some advantage would attract the Emperor's attention by +loudly advocating the very thing the Emperor had hinted at the day +before, and would dispute and shout at the council, beating his breast +and challenging those who did not agree with him to duels, thereby +proving that he was prepared to sacrifice himself for the common good. +A third, in the absence of opponents, between two councils would +simply solicit a special gratuity for his faithful services, well +knowing that at that moment people would be too busy to refuse him. +A fourth while seemingly overwhelmed with work would often come +accidentally under the Emperor's eye. A fifth, to achieve his +long-cherished aim of dining with the Emperor, would stubbornly insist +on the correctness or falsity of some newly emerging opinion and for +this object would produce arguments more or less forcible and correct. + +All the men of this party were fishing for rubles, decorations, +and promotions, and in this pursuit watched only the weathercock of +imperial favor, and directly they noticed it turning in any direction, +this whole drone population of the army began blowing hard that way, +so that it was all the harder for the Emperor to turn it elsewhere. +Amid the uncertainties of the position, with the menace of serious +danger giving a peculiarly threatening character to everything, amid +this vortex of intrigue, egotism, conflict of views and feelings, +and the diversity of race among these people--this eighth and +largest party of those preoccupied with personal interests imparted +great confusion and obscurity to the common task. Whatever question +arose, a swarm of these drones, without having finished their +buzzing on a previous theme, flew over to the new one and by their hum +drowned and obscured the voices of those who were disputing honestly. + +From among all these parties, just at the time Prince Andrew reached +the army, another, a ninth party, was being formed and was beginning +to raise its voice. This was the party of the elders, reasonable men +experienced and capable in state affairs, who, without sharing any +of those conflicting opinions, were able to take a detached view of +what was going on at the staff at headquarters and to consider means +of escape from this muddle, indecision, intricacy, and weakness. + +The men of this party said and thought that what was wrong +resulted chiefly from the Emperor's presence in the army with his +military court and from the consequent presence there of an +indefinite, conditional, and unsteady fluctuation of relations, +which is in place at court but harmful in an army; that a sovereign +should reign but not command the army, and that the only way out of +the position would be for the Emperor and his court to leave the army; +that the mere presence of the Emperor paralyzed the action of fifty +thousand men required to secure his personal safety, and that the +worst commander in chief if independent would be better than the +very best one trammeled by the presence and authority of the monarch. + +Just at the time Prince Andrew was living unoccupied at Drissa, +Shishkov, the Secretary of State and one of the chief +representatives of this party, wrote a letter to the Emperor which +Arakcheev and Balashev agreed to sign. In this letter, availing +himself of permission given him by the Emperor to discuss the +general course of affairs, he respectfully suggested--on the plea that +it was necessary for the sovereign to arouse a warlike spirit in the +people of the capital--that the Emperor should leave the army. + +That arousing of the people by their sovereign and his call to +them to defend their country--the very incitement which was the +chief cause of Russia's triumph in so far as it was produced by the +Tsar's personal presence in Moscow--was suggested to the Emperor, +and accepted by him, as a pretext for quitting the army. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +This letter had not yet been presented to the Emperor when +Barclay, one day at dinner, informed Bolkonski that the sovereign +wished to see him personally, to question him about Turkey, and that +Prince Andrew was to present himself at Bennigsen's quarters at six +that evening. + +News was received at the Emperor's quarters that very day of a fresh +movement by Napoleon which might endanger the army--news +subsequently found to be false. And that morning Colonel Michaud had +ridden round the Drissa fortifications with the Emperor and had +pointed out to him that this fortified camp constructed by Pfuel, +and till then considered a chef-d'oeuvre of tactical science which +would ensure Napoleon's destruction, was an absurdity, threatening the +destruction of the Russian army. + +Prince Andrew arrived at Bennigsen's quarters--a country gentleman's +house of moderate size, situated on the very banks of the river. +Neither Bennigsen nor the Emperor was there, but Chernyshev, the +Emperor's aide-de-camp, received Bolkonski and informed him that the +Emperor, accompanied by General Bennigsen and Marquis Paulucci, had +gone a second time that day to inspect the fortifications of the +Drissa camp, of the suitability of which serious doubts were beginning +to be felt. + +Chernyshev was sitting at a window in the first room with a French +novel in his hand. This room had probably been a music room; there was +still an organ in it on which some rugs were piled, and in one +corner stood the folding bedstead of Bennigsen's adjutant. This +adjutant was also there and sat dozing on the rolled-up bedding, +evidently exhausted by work or by feasting. Two doors led from the +room, one straight on into what had been the drawing room, and +another, on the right, to the study. Through the first door came the +sound of voices conversing in German and occasionally in French. In +that drawing room were gathered, by the Emperor's wish, not a military +council (the Emperor preferred indefiniteness), but certain persons +whose opinions he wished to know in view of the impending +difficulties. It was not a council of war, but, as it were, a +council to elucidate certain questions for the Emperor personally. +To this semicouncil had been invited the Swedish General Armfeldt, +Adjutant General Wolzogen, Wintzingerode (whom Napoleon had referred +to as a renegade French subject), Michaud, Toll, Count Stein who was +not a military man at all, and Pfuel himself, who, as Prince Andrew +had heard, was the mainspring of the whole affair. Prince Andrew had +an opportunity of getting a good look at him, for Pfuel arrived soon +after himself and, in passing through to the drawing room, stopped a +minute to speak to Chernyshev. + +At first sight, Pfuel, in his ill-made uniform of a Russian general, +which fitted him badly like a fancy costume, seemed familiar to Prince +Andrew, though he saw him now for the first time. There was about +him something of Weyrother, Mack, and Schmidt, and many other German +theorist-generals whom Prince Andrew had seen in 1805, but he was more +typical than any of them. Prince Andrew had never yet seen a German +theorist in whom all the characteristics of those others were united +to such an extent. + +Pfuel was short and very thin but broad-boned, of coarse, robust +build, broad in the hips, and with prominent shoulder blades. His face +was much wrinkled and his eyes deep set. His hair had evidently been +hastily brushed smooth in front of the temples, but stuck up behind in +quaint little tufts. He entered the room, looking restlessly and +angrily around, as if afraid of everything in that large apartment. +Awkwardly holding up his sword, he addressed Chernyshev and asked in +German where the Emperor was. One could see that he wished to pass +through the rooms as quickly as possible, finish with the bows and +greetings, and sit down to business in front of a map, where he +would feel at home. He nodded hurriedly in reply to Chernyshev, and +smiled ironically on hearing that the sovereign was inspecting the +fortifications that he, Pfuel, had planned in accord with his +theory. He muttered something to himself abruptly and in a bass voice, +as self-assured Germans do--it might have been "stupid fellow"... or +"the whole affair will be ruined," or "something absurd will come of +it."... Prince Andrew did not catch what he said and would have passed +on, but Chernyshev introduced him to Pfuel, remarking that Prince +Andrew was just back from Turkey where the war had terminated so +fortunately. Pfuel barely glanced--not so much at Prince Andrew as +past him--and said, with a laugh: "That must have been a fine tactical +war"; and, laughing contemptuously, went on into the room from which +the sound of voices was heard. + +Pfuel, always inclined to be irritably sarcastic, was particularly +disturbed that day, evidently by the fact that they had dared to +inspect and criticize his camp in his absence. From this short +interview with Pfuel, Prince Andrew, thanks to his Austerlitz +experiences, was able to form a clear conception of the man. Pfuel was +one of those hopelessly and immutably self-confident men, +self-confident to the point of martyrdom as only Germans are, +because only Germans are self-confident on the basis of an abstract +notion--science, that is, the supposed knowledge of absolute truth. +A Frenchman is self-assured because he regards himself personally, +both in mind and body, as irresistibly attractive to men and women. An +Englishman is self-assured, as being a citizen of the best-organized +state in the world, and therefore as an Englishman always knows what +he should do and knows that all he does as an Englishman is +undoubtedly correct. An Italian is self-assured because he is +excitable and easily forgets himself and other people. A Russian is +self-assured just because he knows nothing does not want to know +anything, since he does not believe that anything can be known. The +German's self-assurance is worst of all, stronger and more repulsive +than any other, because he imagines that he knows the truth- +science--which he himself has invented but which is for him the +absolute truth. + +Pfuel was evidently of that sort. He had a science--the theory of +oblique movements deduced by him from the history of Frederick the +Great's wars, and all he came across in the history of more recent +warfare seemed to him absurd and barbarous--monstrous collisions in +which so many blunders were committed by both sides that these wars +could not be called wars, they did not accord with the theory, and +therefore could not serve as material for science. + +In 1806 Pfuel had been one of those responsible, for the plan of +campaign that ended in Jena and Auerstadt, but he did not see the +least proof of the fallibility of his theory in the disasters of +that war. On the contrary, the deviations made from his theory were, +in his opinion, the sole cause of the whole disaster, and with +characteristically gleeful sarcasm he would remark, "There, I said the +whole affair would go to the devil!" Pfuel was one of those +theoreticians who so love their theory that they lose sight of the +theory's object--its practical application. His love of theory made +him hate everything practical, and he would not listen to it. He was +even pleased by failures, for failures resulting from deviations in +practice from the theory only proved to him the accuracy of his +theory. + +He said a few words to Prince Andrew and Chernyshev about the +present war, with the air of a man who knows beforehand that all +will go wrong, and who is not displeased that it should be so. The +unbrushed tufts of hair sticking up behind and the hastily brushed +hair on his temples expressed this most eloquently. + +He passed into the next room, and the deep, querulous sounds of +his voice were at once heard from there. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Prince Andrew's eyes were still following Pfuel out of the room when +Count Bennigsen entered hurriedly, and nodding to Bolkonski, but not +pausing, went into the study, giving instructions to his adjutant as +he went. The Emperor was following him, and Bennigsen had hastened +on to make some preparations and to be ready to receive the sovereign. +Chernyshev and Prince Andrew went out into the porch, where the +Emperor, who looked fatigued, was dismounting. Marquis Paulucci was +talking to him with particular warmth and the Emperor, with his head +bent to the left, was listening with a dissatisfied air. The Emperor +moved forward evidently wishing to end the conversation, but the +flushed and excited Italian, oblivious of decorum, followed him and +continued to speak. + +"And as for the man who advised forming this camp--the Drissa camp," +said Paulucci, as the Emperor mounted the steps and noticing Prince +Andrew scanned his unfamiliar face, "as to that person, sire..." +continued Paulucci, desperately, apparently unable to restrain +himself, "the man who advised the Drissa camp--I see no alternative +but the lunatic asylum or the gallows!" + +Without heeding the end of the Italian's remarks, and as though +not hearing them, the Emperor, recognizing Bolkonski, addressed him +graciously. + +"I am very glad to see you! Go in there where they are meeting, +and wait for me." + +The Emperor went into the study. He was followed by Prince Peter +Mikhaylovich Volkonski and Baron Stein, and the door closed behind +them. Prince Andrew, taking advantage of the Emperor's permission, +accompanied Paulucci, whom he had known in Turkey, into the drawing +room where the council was assembled. + +Prince Peter Mikhaylovich Volkonski occupied the position, as it +were, of chief of the Emperor's staff. He came out of the study into +the drawing room with some maps which he spread on a table, and put +questions on which he wished to hear the opinion of the gentlemen +present. What had happened was that news (which afterwards proved to +be false) had been received during the night of a movement by the +French to outflank the Drissa camp. + +The first to speak was General Armfeldt who, to meet the +difficulty that presented itself, unexpectedly proposed a perfectly +new position away from the Petersburg and Moscow roads. The reason for +this was inexplicable (unless he wished to show that he, too, could +have an opinion), but he urged that at this point the army should +unite and there await the enemy. It was plain that Armfeldt had +thought out that plan long ago and now expounded it not so much to +answer the questions put--which, in fact, his plan did not answer- +as to avail himself of the opportunity to air it. It was one of the +millions of proposals, one as good as another, that could be made as +long as it was quite unknown what character the war would take. Some +disputed his arguments, others defended them. Young Count Toll +objected to the Swedish general's views more warmly than anyone +else, and in the course of the dispute drew from his side pocket a +well-filled notebook, which he asked permission to read to them. In +these voluminous notes Toll suggested another scheme, totally +different from Armfeldt's or Pfuel's plan of campaign. In answer to +Toll, Paulucci suggested an advance and an attack, which, he urged, +could alone extricate us from the present uncertainty and from the +trap (as he called the Drissa camp) in which we were situated. + +During all these discussions Pfuel and his interpreter, Wolzogen +(his "bridge" in court relations), were silent. Pfuel only snorted +contemptuously and turned away, to show that he would never demean +himself by replying to such nonsense as he was now hearing. So when +Prince Volkonski, who was in the chair, called on him to give his +opinion, he merely said: + +"Why ask me? General Armfeldt has proposed a splendid position +with an exposed rear, or why not this Italian gentleman's attack--very +fine, or a retreat, also good! Why ask me?" said he. "Why, you +yourselves know everything better than I do." + +But when Volkonski said, with a frown, that it was in the +Emperor's name that he asked his opinion, Pfuel rose and, suddenly +growing animated, began to speak: + +"Everything has been spoiled, everything muddled, everybody +thought they knew better than I did, and now you come to me! How +mend matters? There is nothing to mend! The principles laid down by me +must be strictly adhered to," said he, drumming on the table with +his bony fingers. "What is the difficulty? Nonsense, childishness!" + +He went up to the map and speaking rapidly began proving that no +eventuality could alter the efficiency of the Drissa camp, that +everything had been foreseen, and that if the enemy were really +going to outflank it, the enemy would inevitably be destroyed. + +Paulucci, who did not know German, began questioning him in +French. Wolzogen came to the assistance of his chief, who spoke French +badly, and began translating for him, hardly able to keep pace with +Pfuel, who was rapidly demonstrating that not only all that had +happened, but all that could happen, had been foreseen in his +scheme, and that if there were now any difficulties the whole fault +lay in the fact that his plan had not been precisely executed. He kept +laughing sarcastically, he demonstrated, and at last contemptuously +ceased to demonstrate, like a mathematician who ceases to prove in +various ways the accuracy of a problem that has already been proved. +Wolzogen took his place and continued to explain his views in +French, every now and then turning to Pfuel and saying, "Is it not so, +your excellency?" But Pfuel, like a man heated in a fight who +strikes those on his own side, shouted angrily at his own supporter, +Wolzogen: + +"Well, of course, what more is there to explain?" + +Paulucci and Michaud both attacked Wolzogen simultaneously in +French. Armfeldt addressed Pfuel in German. Toll explained to +Volkonski in Russian. Prince Andrew listened and observed in silence. + +Of all these men Prince Andrew sympathized most with Pfuel, angry, +determined, and absurdly self-confident as he was. Of all those +present, evidently he alone was not seeking anything for himself, +nursed no hatred against anyone, and only desired that the plan, +formed on a theory arrived at by years of toil, should be carried out. +He was ridiculous, and unpleasantly sarcastic, but yet he inspired +involuntary respect by his boundless devotion to an idea. Besides +this, the remarks of all except Pfuel had one common trait that had +not been noticeable at the council of war in 1805: there was now a +panic fear of Napoleon's genius, which, though concealed, was +noticeable in every rejoinder. Everything was assumed to be possible +for Napoleon, they expected him from every side, and invoked his +terrible name to shatter each other's proposals. Pfuel alone seemed to +consider Napoleon a barbarian like everyone else who opposed his +theory. But besides this feeling of respect, Pfuel evoked pity in +Prince Andrew. From the tone in which the courtiers addressed him +and the way Paulucci had allowed himself to speak of him to the +Emperor, but above all from a certain desperation in Pfuel's own +expressions, it was clear that the others knew, and Pfuel himself +felt, that his fall was at hand. And despite his self-confidence and +grumpy German sarcasm he was pitiable, with his hair smoothly +brushed on the temples and sticking up in tufts behind. Though he +concealed the fact under a show of irritation and contempt, he was +evidently in despair that the sole remaining chance of verifying his +theory by a huge experiment and proving its soundness to the whole +world was slipping away from him. + +The discussions continued a long time, and the longer they lasted +the more heated became the disputes, culminating in shouts and +personalities, and the less was it possible to arrive at any general +conclusion from all that had been said. Prince Andrew, listening to +this polyglot talk and to these surmises, plans, refutations, and +shouts, felt nothing but amazement at what they were saying. A thought +that had long since and often occurred to him during his military +activities--the idea that there is not and cannot be any science of +war, and that therefore there can be no such thing as a military +genius--now appeared to him an obvious truth. "What theory and science +is possible about a matter the conditions and circumstances of which +are unknown and cannot be defined, especially when the strength of the +acting forces cannot be ascertained? No one was or is able to +foresee in what condition our or the enemy's armies will be in a day's +time, and no one can gauge the force of this or that detachment. +Sometimes--when there is not a coward at the front to shout, 'We are +cut off!' and start running, but a brave and jolly lad who shouts, +'Hurrah!'--a detachment of five thousand is worth thirty thousand, +as at Schon Grabern, while at times fifty thousand run from eight +thousand, as at Austerlitz. What science can there be in a matter in +which, as in all practical matters, nothing can be defined and +everything depends on innumerable conditions, the significance of +which is determined at a particular moment which arrives no one +knows when? Armfeldt says our army is cut in half, and Paulucci says +we have got the French army between two fires; Michaud says that the +worthlessness of the Drissa camp lies in having the river behind it, +and Pfuel says that is what constitutes its strength; Toll proposes +one plan, Armfeldt another, and they are all good and all bad, and the +advantages of any suggestions can be seen only at the moment of trial. +And why do they all speak of a 'military genius'? Is a man a genius +who can order bread to be brought up at the right time and say who +is to go to the right and who to the left? It is only because military +men are invested with pomp and power and crowds of sychophants flatter +power, attributing to it qualities of genius it does not possess. +The best generals I have known were, on the contrary, stupid or +absent-minded men. Bagration was the best, Napoleon himself admitted +that. And of Bonaparte himself! I remember his limited, self-satisfied +face on the field of Austerlitz. Not only does a good army commander +not need any special qualities, on the contrary he needs the absence +of the highest and best human attributes--love, poetry, tenderness, +and philosophic inquiring doubt. He should be limited, firmly +convinced that what he is doing is very important (otherwise he will +not have sufficient patience), and only then will he be a brave +leader. God forbid that he should be humane, should love, or pity, +or think of what is just and unjust. It is understandable that a +theory of their 'genius' was invented for them long ago because they +have power! The success of a military action depends not on them, +but on the man in the ranks who shouts, 'We are lost!' or who +shouts, 'Hurrah!' And only in the ranks can one serve with assurance +of being useful." + +So thought Prince Andrew as he listened to the talking, and he +roused himself only when Paulucci called him and everyone was leaving. + +At the review next day the Emperor asked Prince Andrew where he +would like to serve, and Prince Andrew lost his standing in court +circles forever by not asking to remain attached to the sovereign's +person, but for permission to serve in the army. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Before the beginning of the campaign, Rostov had received a letter +from his parents in which they told him briefly of Natasha's illness +and the breaking off of her engagement to Prince Andrew (which they +explained by Natasha's having rejected him) and again asked Nicholas +to retire from the army and return home. On receiving this letter, +Nicholas did not even make any attempt to get leave of absence or to +retire from the army, but wrote to his parents that he was sorry +Natasha was ill and her engagement broken off, and that he would do +all he could to meet their wishes. To Sonya he wrote separately. + +"Adored friend of my soul!" he wrote. "Nothing but honor could +keep me from returning to the country. But now, at the commencement of +the campaign, I should feel dishonored, not only in my comrades' +eyes but in my own, if I preferred my own happiness to my love and +duty to the Fatherland. But this shall be our last separation. Believe +me, directly the war is over, if I am still alive and still loved by +you, I will throw up everything and fly to you, to press you forever +to my ardent breast." + +It was, in fact, only the commencement of the campaign that +prevented Rostov from returning home as he had promised and marrying +Sonya. The autumn in Otradnoe with the hunting, and the winter with +the Christmas holidays and Sonya's love, had opened out to him a vista +of tranquil rural joys and peace such as he had never known before, +and which now allured him. "A splendid wife, children, a good pack +of hounds, a dozen leashes of smart borzois, agriculture, neighbors, +service by election..." thought he. But now the campaign was +beginning, and he had to remain with his regiment. And since it had to +be so, Nicholas Rostov, as was natural to him, felt contented with the +life he led in the regiment and was able to find pleasure in that +life. + +On his return from his furlough Nicholas, having been joyfully +welcomed by his comrades, was sent to obtain remounts and brought back +from the Ukraine excellent horses which pleased him and earned him +commendation from his commanders. During his absence he had been +promoted captain, and when the regiment was put on war footing with an +increase in numbers, he was again allotted his old squadron. + +The campaign began, the regiment was moved into Poland on double +pay, new officers arrived, new men and horses, and above all everybody +was infected with the merrily excited mood that goes with the +commencement of a war, and Rostov, conscious of his advantageous +position in the regiment, devoted himself entirely to the pleasures +and interests of military service, though he knew that sooner or later +he would have to relinquish them. + +The troops retired from Vilna for various complicated reasons of +state, political and strategic. Each step of the retreat was +accompanied by a complicated interplay of interests, arguments, and +passions at headquarters. For the Pavlograd hussars, however, the +whole of this retreat during the finest period of summer and with +sufficient supplies was a very simple and agreeable business. + +It was only at headquarters that there was depression, uneasiness, +and intriguing; in the body of the army they did not ask themselves +where they were going or why. If they regretted having to retreat, +it was only because they had to leave billets they had grown +accustomed to, or some pretty young Polish lady. If the thought that +things looked bad chanced to enter anyone's head, he tried to be as +cheerful as befits a good soldier and not to think of the general +trend of affairs, but only of the task nearest to hand. First they +camped gaily before Vilna, making acquaintance with the Polish +landowners, preparing for reviews and being reviewed by the Emperor +and other high commanders. Then came an order to retreat to Sventsyani +and destroy any provisions they could not carry away with them. +Sventsyani was remembered by the hussars only as the drunken camp, a +name the whole army gave to their encampment there, and because many +complaints were made against the troops, who, taking advantage of +the order to collect provisions, took also horses, carriages, and +carpets from the Polish proprietors. Rostov remembered Sventsyani, +because on the first day of their arrival at that small town he +changed his sergeant major and was unable to manage all the drunken +men of his squadron who, unknown to him, had appropriated five barrels +of old beer. From Sventsyani they retired farther and farther to +Drissa, and thence again beyond Drissa, drawing near to the frontier +of Russia proper. + +On the thirteenth of July the Pavlograds took part in a serious +action for the first time. + +On the twelfth of July, on the eve of that action, there was a heavy +storm of rain and hail. In general, the summer of 1812 was +remarkable for its storms. + +The two Pavlograd squadrons were bivouacking on a field of rye, +which was already in ear but had been completely trodden down by +cattle and horses. The rain was descending in torrents, and Rostov, +with a young officer named Ilyin, his protege, was sitting in a +hastily constructed shelter. An officer of their regiment, with long +mustaches extending onto his cheeks, who after riding to the staff had +been overtaken by the rain, entered Rostov's shelter. + +"I have come from the staff, Count. Have you heard of Raevski's +exploit?" + +And the officer gave them details of the Saltanov battle, which he +had heard at the staff. + +Rostov, smoking his pipe and turning his head about as the water +trickled down his neck, listened inattentively, with an occasional +glance at Ilyin, who was pressing close to him. This officer, a lad of +sixteen who had recently joined the regiment, was now in the same +relation to Nicholas that Nicholas had been to Denisov seven years +before. Ilyin tried to imitate Rostov in everything and adored him +as a girl might have done. + +Zdrzhinski, the officer with the long mustache, spoke +grandiloquently of the Saltanov dam being "a Russian Thermopylae," and +of how a deed worthy of antiquity had been performed by General +Raevski. He recounted how Raevski had led his two sons onto the dam +under terrific fire and had charged with them beside him. Rostov heard +the story and not only said nothing to encourage Zdrzhinski's +enthusiasm but, on the contrary, looked like a man ashamed of what +he was hearing, though with no intention of contradicting it. Since +the campaigns of Austerlitz and of 1807 Rostov knew by experience that +men always lie when describing military exploits, as he himself had +done when recounting them; besides that, he had experience enough to +know that nothing happens in war at all as we can imagine or relate +it. And so he did not like Zdrzhinski's tale, nor did he like +Zdrzhinski himself who, with his mustaches extending over his +cheeks, bent low over the face of his hearer, as was his habit, and +crowded Rostov in the narrow shanty. Rostov looked at him in +silence. "In the first place, there must have been such a confusion +and crowding on the dam that was being attacked that if Raevski did +lead his sons there, it could have had no effect except perhaps on +some dozen men nearest to him," thought he, "the rest could not have +seen how or with whom Raevski came onto the dam. And even those who +did see it would not have been much stimulated by it, for what had +they to do with Raevski's tender paternal feelings when their own +skins were in danger? And besides, the fate of the Fatherland did +not depend on whether they took the Saltanov dam or not, as we are +told was the case at Thermopylae. So why should he have made such a +sacrifice? And why expose his own children in the battle? I would +not have taken my brother Petya there, or even Ilyin, who's a stranger +to me but a nice lad, but would have tried to put them somewhere under +cover," Nicholas continued to think, as he listened to Zdrzhinski. But +he did not express his thoughts, for in such matters, too, he had +gained experience. He knew that this tale redounded to the glory of +our arms and so one had to pretend not to doubt it. And he acted +accordingly. + +"I can't stand this any more," said Ilyin, noticing that Rostov +did not relish Zdrzhinski's conversation. "My stockings and shirt... +and the water is running on my seat! I'll go and look for shelter. The +rain seems less heavy." + +Ilyin went out and Zdrzhinski rode away. + +Five minutes later Ilyin, splashing through the mud, came running +back to the shanty. + +"Hurrah! Rostov, come quick! I've found it! About two hundred +yards away there's a tavern where ours have already gathered. We can +at least get dry there, and Mary Hendrikhovna's there." + +Mary Hendrikhovna was the wife of the regimental doctor, a pretty +young German woman he had married in Poland. The doctor, whether +from lack of means or because he did not like to part from his young +wife in the early days of their marriage, took her about with him +wherever the hussar regiment went and his jealousy had become a +standing joke among the hussar officers. + +Rostov threw his cloak over his shoulders, shouted to Lavrushka to +follow with the things, and--now slipping in the mud, now splashing +right through it--set off with Ilyin in the lessening rain and the +darkness that was occasionally rent by distant lightning. + +"Rostov, where are you?" + +"Here. What lightning!" they called to one another. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +In the tavern, before which stood the doctor's covered cart, there +were already some five officers. Mary Hendrikhovna, a plump little +blonde German, in a dressing jacket and nightcap, was sitting on a +broad bench in the front corner. Her husband, the doctor, lay asleep +behind her. Rostov and Ilyin, on entering the room, were welcomed with +merry shouts and laughter. + +"Dear me, how jolly we are!" said Rostov laughing. + +"And why do you stand there gaping?" + +"What swells they are! Why, the water streams from them! Don't +make our drawing room so wet." + +"Don't mess Mary Hendrikhovna's dress!" cried other voices. + +Rostov and Ilyin hastened to find a corner where they could change +into dry clothes without offending Mary Hendrikhovna's modesty. They +were going into a tiny recess behind a partition to change, but +found it completely filled by three officers who sat playing cards +by the light of a solitary candle on an empty box, and these +officers would on no account yield their position. Mary Hendrikhovna +obliged them with the loan of a petticoat to be used as a curtain, and +behind that screen Rostov and Ilyin, helped by Lavrushka who had +brought their kits, changed their wet things for dry ones. + +A fire was made up in the dilapidated brick stove. A board was +found, fixed on two saddles and covered with a horsecloth, a small +samovar was produced and a cellaret and half a bottle of rum, and +having asked Mary Hendrikhovna to preside, they all crowded round her. +One offered her a clean handkerchief to wipe her charming hands, +another spread a jacket under her little feet to keep them from the +damp, another hung his coat over the window to keep out the draft, and +yet another waved the flies off her husband's face, lest he should +wake up. + +"Leave him alone," said Mary Hendrikhovna, smiling timidly and +happily. "He is sleeping well as it is, after a sleepless night." + +"Oh, no, Mary Hendrikhovna," replied the officer, "one must look +after the doctor. Perhaps he'll take pity on me someday, when it comes +to cutting off a leg or an arm for me." + +There were only three tumblers, the water was so muddy that one +could not make out whether the tea was strong or weak, and the samovar +held only six tumblers of water, but this made it all the pleasanter +to take turns in order of seniority to receive one's tumbler from Mary +Hendrikhovna's plump little hands with their short and not overclean +nails. All the officers appeared to be, and really were, in love +with her that evening. Even those playing cards behind the partition +soon left their game and came over to the samovar, yielding to the +general mood of courting Mary Hendrikhovna. She, seeing herself +surrounded by such brilliant and polite young men, beamed with +satisfaction, try as she might to hide it, and perturbed as she +evidently was each time her husband moved in his sleep behind her. + +There was only one spoon, sugar was more plentiful than anything +else, but it took too long to dissolve, so it was decided that Mary +Hendrikhovna should stir the sugar for everyone in turn. Rostov +received his tumbler, and adding some rum to it asked Mary +Hendrikhovna to stir it. + +"But you take it without sugar?" she said, smiling all the time, +as if everything she said and everything the others said was very +amusing and had a double meaning. + +"It is not the sugar I want, but only that your little hand should +stir my tea." + +Mary Hendrikhovna assented and began looking for the spoon which +someone meanwhile had pounced on. + +"Use your finger, Mary Hendrikhovna, it will be still nicer," said +Rostov. + +"Too hot!" she replied, blushing with pleasure. + +Ilyin put a few drops of rum into the bucket of water and brought it +to Mary Hendrikhovna, asking her to stir it with her finger. + +"This is my cup," said he. "Only dip your finger in it and I'll +drink it all up." + +When they had emptied the samovar, Rostov took a pack of cards and +proposed that they should play "Kings" with Mary Hendrikhovna. They +drew lots to settle who should make up her set. At Rostov's suggestion +it was agreed that whoever became "King" should have the right to kiss +Mary Hendrikhovna's hand, and that the "Booby" should go to refill and +reheat the samovar for the doctor when the latter awoke. + +"Well, but supposing Mary Hendrikhovna is 'King'?" asked Ilyin. + +"As it is, she is Queen, and her word is law!" + +They had hardly begun to play before the doctor's disheveled head +suddenly appeared from behind Mary Hendrikhovna. He had been awake for +some time, listening to what was being said, and evidently found +nothing entertaining or amusing in what was going on. His face was sad +and depressed. Without greeting the officers, he scratched himself and +asked to be allowed to pass as they were blocking the way. As soon +as he had left the room all the officers burst into loud laughter +and Mary Hendrikhovna blushed till her eyes filled with tears and +thereby became still more attractive to them. Returning from the yard, +the doctor told his wife (who had ceased to smile so happily, and +looked at him in alarm, awaiting her sentence) that the rain had +ceased and they must go to sleep in their covered cart, or +everything in it would be stolen. + +"But I'll send an orderly.... Two of them!" said Rostov. "What an +idea, doctor!" + +"I'll stand guard on it myself!" said Ilyin. + +"No, gentlemen, you have had your sleep, but I have not slept for +two nights," replied the doctor, and he sat down morosely beside his +wife, waiting for the game to end. + +Seeing his gloomy face as he frowned at his wife, the officers +grew still merrier, and some of them could not refrain from +laughter, for which they hurriedly sought plausible pretexts. When +he had gone, taking his wife with him, and had settled down with her +in their covered cart, the officers lay down in the tavern, covering +themselves with their wet cloaks, but they did not sleep for a long +time; now they exchanged remarks, recalling the doctor's uneasiness +and his wife's delight, now they ran out into the porch and reported +what was taking place in the covered trap. Several times Rostov, +covering his head, tried to go to sleep, but some remark would +arouse him and conversation would be resumed, to the accompaniment +of unreasoning, merry, childlike laughter. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +It was nearly three o'clock but no one was yet asleep, when the +quartermaster appeared with an order to move on to the little town +of Ostrovna. Still laughing and talking, the officers began +hurriedly getting ready and again boiled some muddy water +in the samovar. But Rostov went off to his squadron without waiting +for tea. Day was breaking, the rain had ceased, and the clouds were +dispersing. It felt damp and cold, especially in clothes that were +still moist. As they left the tavern in the twilight of the dawn, +Rostov and Ilyin both glanced under the wet and glistening leather +hood of the doctor's cart, from under the apron of which his feet were +sticking out, and in the middle of which his wife's nightcap was +visible and her sleepy breathing audible. + +"She really is a dear little thing," said Rostov to Ilyin, who was +following him. + +"A charming woman!" said Ilyin, with all the gravity of a boy of +sixteen. + +Half an hour later the squadron was lined up on the road. The +command was heard to "mount" and the soldiers crossed themselves and +mounted. Rostov riding in front gave the order "Forward!" and the +hussars, with clanking sabers and subdued talk, their horses' hoofs +splashing in the mud, defiled in fours and moved along the broad +road planted with birch trees on each side, following the infantry and +a battery that had gone on in front. + +Tattered, blue-purple clouds, reddening in the east, were scudding +before the wind. It was growing lighter and lighter. That curly +grass which always grows by country roadsides became clearly +visible, still wet with the night's rain; the drooping branches of the +birches, also wet, swayed in the wind and flung down bright drops of +water to one side. The soldiers' faces were more and more clearly +visible. Rostov, always closely followed by Ilyin, rode along the side +of the road between two rows of birch trees. + +When campaigning, Rostov allowed himself the indulgence of riding +not a regimental but a Cossack horse. A judge of horses and a +sportsman, he had lately procured himself a large, fine, mettlesome, +Donets horse, dun-colored, with light mane and tail, and when he +rode it no one could outgallop him. To ride this horse was a +pleasure to him, and he thought of the horse, of the morning, of the +doctor's wife, but not once of the impending danger. + +Formerly, when going into action, Rostov had felt afraid; now he had +not the least feeling of fear. He was fearless, not because he had +grown used to being under fire (one cannot grow used to danger), but +because he had learned how to manage his thoughts when in danger. He +had grown accustomed when going into action to think about anything +but what would seem most likely to interest him--the impending danger. +During the first period of his service, hard as he tried and much as +he reproached himself with cowardice, he had not been able to do this, +but with time it had come of itself. Now he rode beside Ilyin under +the birch trees, occasionally plucking leaves from a branch that met +his hand, sometimes touching his horse's side with his foot, or, +without turning round, handing a pipe he had finished to an hussar +riding behind him, with as calm and careless an air as though he +were merely out for a ride. He glanced with pity at the excited face +of Ilyin, who talked much and in great agitation. He knew from +experience the tormenting expectation of terror and death the cornet +was suffering and knew that only time could help him. + +As soon as the sun appeared in a clear strip of sky beneath the +clouds, the wind fell, as if it dared not spoil the beauty of the +summer morning after the storm; drops still continued to fall, but +vertically now, and all was still. The whole sun appeared on the +horizon and disappeared behind a long narrow cloud that hung above it. +A few minutes later it reappeared brighter still from behind the top +of the cloud, tearing its edge. Everything grew bright and +glittered. And with that light, and as if in reply to it, came the +sound of guns ahead of them. + +Before Rostov had had time to consider and determine the distance of +that firing, Count Ostermann-Tolstoy's adjutant came galloping from +Vitebsk with orders to advance at a trot along the road. + +The squadron overtook and passed the infantry and the battery--which +had also quickened their pace--rode down a hill, and passing through +an empty and deserted village again ascended. The horses began to +lather and the men to flush. + +"Halt! Dress your ranks!" the order of the regimental commander +was heard ahead. "Forward by the left. Walk, march!" came the order +from in front. + +And the hussars, passing along the line of troops on the left +flank of our position, halted behind our Uhlans who were in the +front line. To the right stood our infantry in a dense column: they +were the reserve. Higher up the hill, on the very horizon, our guns +were visible through the wonderfully clear air, brightly illuminated +by slanting morning sunbeams. In front, beyond a hollow dale, could be +seen the enemy's columns and guns. Our advanced line, already in +action, could be heard briskly exchanging shots with the enemy in +the dale. + +At these sounds, long unheard, Rostov's spirits rose, as at the +strains of the merriest music. Trap-ta-ta-tap! cracked the shots, +now together, now several quickly one after another. Again all was +silent and then again it sounded as if someone were walking on +detonators and exploding them. + +The hussars remained in the same place for about an hour. A +cannonade began. Count Ostermann with his suite rode up behind the +squadron, halted, spoke to the commander of the regiment, and rode +up the hill to the guns. + +After Ostermann had gone, a command rang out to the Uhlans. + +"Form column! Prepare to charge!" + +The infantry in front of them parted into platoons to allow the +cavalry to pass. The Uhlans started, the streamers on their spears +fluttering, and trotted downhill toward the French cavalry which was +seen below to the left. + +As soon as the Uhlans descended the hill, the hussars were ordered +up the hill to support the battery. As they took the places vacated by +the Uhlans, bullets came from the front, whining and whistling, but +fell spent without taking effect. + +The sounds, which he had not heard for so long, had an even more +pleasurable and exhilarating effect on Rostov than the previous sounds +of firing. Drawing himself up, he viewed the field of battle opening +out before him from the hill, and with his whole soul followed the +movement of the Uhlans. They swooped down close to the French +dragoons, something confused happened there amid the smoke, and five +minutes later our Uhlans were galloping back, not to the place they +had occupied but more to the left, and among the orange-colored Uhlans +on chestnut horses and behind them, in a large group, blue French +dragoons on gray horses could be seen. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Rostov, with his keen sportsman's eye, was one of the first to catch +sight of these blue French dragoons pursuing our Uhlans. Nearer and +nearer in disorderly crowds came the Uhlans and the French dragoons +pursuing them. He could already see how these men, who looked so small +at the foot of the hill, jostled and overtook one another, waving +their arms and their sabers in the air. + +Rostov gazed at what was happening before him as at a hunt. He +felt instinctively that if the hussars struck at the French dragoons +now, the latter could not withstand them, but if a charge was to be +made it must be done now, at that very moment, or it would be too +late. He looked around. A captain, standing beside him, was gazing +like himself with eyes fixed on the cavalry below them. + +"Andrew Sevastyanych!" said Rostov. "You know, we could crush +them...." + +"A fine thing too!" replied the captain, "and really..." + +Rostov, without waiting to hear him out, touched his horse, galloped +to the front of his squadron, and before he had time to finish +giving the word of command, the whole squadron, sharing his feeling, +was following him. Rostov himself did not know how or why he did it. +He acted as he did when hunting, without reflecting or considering. He +saw the dragoons near and that they were galloping in disorder; he +knew they could not withstand an attack--knew there was only that +moment and that if he let it slip it would not return. The bullets +were whining and whistling so stimulatingly around him and his horse +was so eager to go that he could not restrain himself. He touched +his horse, gave the word of command, and immediately, hearing behind +him the tramp of the horses of his deployed squadron, rode at full +trot downhill toward the dragoons. Hardly had they reached the +bottom of the hill before their pace instinctively changed to a +gallop, which grew faster and faster as they drew nearer to our Uhlans +and the French dragoons who galloped after them. The dragoons were now +close at hand. On seeing the hussars, the foremost began to turn, +while those behind began to halt. With the same feeling with which +he had galloped across the path of a wolf, Rostov gave rein to his +Donets horse and galloped to intersect the path of the dragoons' +disordered lines. One Uhlan stopped, another who was on foot flung +himself to the ground to avoid being knocked over, and a riderless +horse fell in among the hussars. Nearly all the French dragoons were +galloping back. Rostov, picking out one on a gray horse, dashed +after him. On the way he came upon a bush, his gallant horse cleared +it, and almost before he had righted himself in his saddle he saw that +he would immediately overtake the enemy he had selected. That +Frenchman, by his uniform an officer, was going at a gallop, crouching +on his gray horse and urging it on with his saber. In another moment +Rostov's horse dashed its breast against the hindquarters of the +officer's horse, almost knocking it over, and at the same instant +Rostov, without knowing why, raised his saber and struck the Frenchman +with it. + +The instant he had done this, all Rostov's animation vanished. The +officer fell, not so much from the blow--which had but slightly cut +his arm above the elbow--as from the shock to his horse and from +fright. Rostov reined in his horse, and his eyes sought his foe to see +whom he had vanquished. The French dragoon officer was hopping with +one foot on the ground, the other being caught in the stirrup. His +eyes, screwed up with fear as if he every moment expected another +blow, gazed up at Rostov with shrinking terror. His pale and +mud-stained face--fair and young, with a dimple in the chin and +light-blue eyes--was not an enemy's face at all suited to a +battlefield, but a most ordinary, homelike face. Before Rostov had +decided what to do with him, the officer cried, "I surrender!" He +hurriedly but vainly tried to get his foot out of the stirrup and +did not remove his frightened blue eyes from Rostov's face. Some +hussars who galloped up disengaged his foot and helped him into the +saddle. On all sides, the hussars were busy with the dragoons; one was +wounded, but though his face was bleeding, he would not give up his +horse; another was perched up behind an hussar with his arms round +him; a third was being helped by an hussar to mount his horse. In +front, the French infantry were firing as they ran. The hussars +galloped hastily back with their prisoners. Rostov galloped back +with the rest, aware of an unpleasant feeling of depression in his +heart. Something vague and confused, which he could not at all account +for, had come over him with the capture of that officer and the blow +he had dealt him. + +Count Ostermann-Tolstoy met the returning hussars, sent for +Rostov, thanked him, and said he would report his gallant deed to +the Emperor and would recommend him for a St. George's Cross. When +sent for by Count Ostermann, Rostov, remembering that he had charged +without orders, felt sure his commander was sending for him to +punish him for breach of discipline. Ostermann's flattering words +and promise of a reward should therefore have struck him all the +more pleasantly, but he still felt that same vaguely disagreeable +feeling of moral nausea. "But what on earth is worrying me?" he +asked himself as he rode back from the general. "Ilyin? No, he's safe. +Have I disgraced myself in any way? No, that's not it." Something +else, resembling remorse, tormented him. "Yes, oh yes, that French +officer with the dimple. And I remember how my arm paused when I +raised it." + +Rostov saw the prisoners being led away and galloped after them to +have a look at his Frenchman with the dimple on his chin. He was +sitting in his foreign uniform on an hussar packhorse and looked +anxiously about him; The sword cut on his arm could scarcely be called +a wound. He glanced at Rostov with a feigned smile and waved his +hand in greeting. Rostov still had the same indefinite feeling, as +of shame. + +All that day and the next his friends and comrades noticed that +Rostov, without being dull or angry, was silent, thoughtful, and +preoccupied. He drank reluctantly, tried to remain alone, and kept +turning something over in his mind. + +Rostov was always thinking about that brilliant exploit of his, +which to his amazement had gained him the St. George's Cross and +even given him a reputation for bravery, and there was something he +could not at all understand. "So others are even more afraid than I +am!" he thought. "So that's all there is in what is called heroism! +And heroism! And did I do it for my country's sake? And how was he +to blame, with his dimple and blue eyes? And how frightened he was! He +thought that I should kill him. Why should I kill him? My hand +trembled. And they have given me a St. George's Cross.... I can't make +it out at all." + +But while Nicholas was considering these questions and still could +reach no clear solution of what puzzled him so, the wheel of fortune +in the service, as often happens, turned in his favor. After the +affair at Ostrovna he was brought into notice, received command of +an hussar battalion, and when a brave officer was needed he was +chosen. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +On receiving news of Natasha's illness, the countess, though not +quite well yet and still weak, went to Moscow with Petya and the +rest of the household, and the whole family moved from Marya +Dmitrievna's house to their own and settled down in town. + +Natasha's illness was so serious that, fortunately for her and for +her parents, the consideration of all that had caused the illness, her +conduct and the breaking off of her engagement, receded into the +background. She was so ill that it was impossible for them to consider +in how far she was to blame for what had happened. She could not eat +or sleep, grew visibly thinner, coughed, and, as the doctors made them +feel, was in danger. They could not think of anything but how to +help her. Doctors came to see her singly and in consultation, talked +much in French, German, and Latin, blamed one another, and +prescribed a great variety of medicines for all the diseases known +to them, but the simple idea never occurred to any of them that they +could not know the disease Natasha was suffering from, as no disease +suffered by a live man can be known, for every living person has his +own peculiarities and always has his own peculiar, personal, novel, +complicated disease, unknown to medicine--not a disease of the +lungs, liver, skin, heart, nerves, and so on mentioned in medical +books, but a disease consisting of one of the innumerable combinations +of the maladies of those organs. This simple thought could not occur +to the doctors (as it cannot occur to a wizard that he is unable to +work his charms) because the business of their lives was to cure, +and they received money for it and had spent the best years of their +lives on that business. But, above all, that thought was kept out of +their minds by the fact that they saw they were really useful, as in +fact they were to the whole Rostov family. Their usefulness did not +depend on making the patient swallow substances for the most part +harmful (the harm was scarcely perceptible, as they were given in +small doses), but they were useful, necessary, and indispensable +because they satisfied a mental need of the invalid and of those who +loved her--and that is why there are, and always will be, +pseudo-healers, wise women, homeopaths, and allopaths. They +satisfied that eternal human need for hope of relief, for sympathy, +and that something should be done, which is felt by those who are +suffering. They satisfied the need seen in its most elementary form in +a child, when it wants to have a place rubbed that has been hurt. A +child knocks itself and runs at once to the arms of its mother or +nurse to have the aching spot rubbed or kissed, and it feels better +when this is done. The child cannot believe that the strongest and +wisest of its people have no remedy for its pain, and the hope of +relief and the expression of its mother's sympathy while she rubs +the bump comforts it. The doctors were of use to Natasha because +they kissed and rubbed her bump, assuring her that it would soon +pass if only the coachman went to the chemist's in the Arbat and got a +powder and some pills in a pretty box of a ruble and seventy kopeks, +and if she took those powders in boiled water at intervals of +precisely two hours, neither more nor less. + +What would Sonya and the count and countess have done, how would +they have looked, if nothing had been done, if there had not been +those pills to give by the clock, the warm drinks, the chicken +cutlets, and all the other details of life ordered by the doctors, the +carrying out of which supplied an occupation and consolation to the +family circle? How would the count have borne his dearly loved +daughter's illness had he not known that it was costing him a thousand +rubles, and that he would not grudge thousands more to benefit her, or +had he not known that if her illness continued he would not grudge yet +other thousands and would take her abroad for consultations there, and +had he not been able to explain the details of how Metivier and Feller +had not understood the symptoms, but Frise had, and Mudrov had +diagnosed them even better? What would the countess have done had +she not been able sometimes to scold the invalid for not strictly +obeying the doctor's orders? + +"You'll never get well like that," she would say, forgetting her +grief in her vexation, "if you won't obey the doctor and take your +medicine at the right time! You mustn't trifle with it, you know, or +it may turn to pneumonia," she would go on, deriving much comfort from +the utterance of that foreign word, incomprehensible to others as well +as to herself. + +What would Sonya have done without the glad consciousness that she +had not undressed during the first three nights, in order to be +ready to carry out all the doctor's injunctions with precision, and +that she still kept awake at night so as not to miss the proper time +when the slightly harmful pills in the little gilt box had to be +administered? Even to Natasha herself it was pleasant to see that so +many sacrifices were being made for her sake, and to know that she had +to take medicine at certain hours, though she declared that no +medicine would cure her and that it was all nonsense. And it was +even pleasant to be able to show, by disregarding the orders, that she +did not believe in medical treatment and did not value her life. + +The doctor came every day, felt her pulse, looked at her tongue, and +regardless of her grief-stricken face joked with her. But when he +had gone into another room, to which the countess hurriedly followed +him, he assumed a grave air and thoughtfully shaking his head said +that though there was danger, he had hopes of the effect of this +last medicine and one must wait and see, that the malady was chiefly +mental, but... And the countess, trying to conceal the action from +herself and from him, slipped a gold coin into his hand and always +returned to the patient with a more tranquil mind. + +The symptoms of Natasha's illness were that she ate little, slept +little, coughed, and was always low-spirited. The doctors said that +she could not get on without medical treatment, so they kept her in +the stifling atmosphere of the town, and the Rostovs did not move to +the country that summer of 1812. + +In spite of the many pills she swallowed and the drops and powders +out of the little bottles and boxes of which Madame Schoss who was +fond of such things made a large collection, and in spite of being +deprived of the country life to which she was accustomed, youth +prevailed. Natasha's grief began to be overlaid by the impressions +of daily life, it ceased to press so painfully on her heart, it +gradually faded into the past, and she began to recover physically. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Natasha was calmer but no happier. She not merely avoided all +external forms of pleasure--balls, promenades, concerts, and theaters- +but she never laughed without a sound of tears in her laughter. She +could not sing. As soon as she began to laugh, or tried to sing by +herself, tears choked her: tears of remorse, tears at the recollection +of those pure times which could never return, tears of vexation that +she should so uselessly have ruined her young life which might have +been so happy. Laughter and singing in particular seemed to her like a +blasphemy, in face of her sorrow. Without any need of +self-restraint, no wish to coquet ever entered her head. She said +and felt at that time that no man was more to her than Nastasya +Ivanovna, the buffoon. Something stood sentinel within her and forbade +her every joy. Besides, she had lost all the old interests of her +carefree girlish life that had been so full of hope. The previous +autumn, the hunting, "Uncle," and the Christmas holidays spent with +Nicholas at Otradnoe were what she recalled oftenest and most +painfully. What would she not have given to bring back even a single +day of that time! But it was gone forever. Her presentiment at the +time had not deceived her--that that state of freedom and readiness +for any enjoyment would not return again. Yet it was necessary to live +on. + +It comforted her to reflect that she was not better as she had +formerly imagined, but worse, much worse, than anybody else in the +world. But this was not enough. She knew that, and asked herself, +"What next?" But there was nothing to come. There was no joy in +life, yet life was passing. Natasha apparently tried not to be a +burden or a hindrance to anyone, but wanted nothing for herself. She +kept away from everyone in the house and felt at ease only with her +brother Petya. She liked to be with him better than with the others, +and when alone with him she sometimes laughed. She hardly ever left +the house and of those who came to see them was glad to see only one +person, Pierre. It would have been impossible to treat her with more +delicacy, greater care, and at the same time more seriously than did +Count Bezukhov. Natasha unconsciously felt this delicacy and so +found great pleasure in his society. But she was not even grateful +to him for it; nothing good on Pierre's part seemed to her to be an +effort, it seemed so natural for him to be kind to everyone that there +was no merit in his kindness. Sometimes Natasha noticed +embarrassment and awkwardness on his part in her presence, +especially when he wanted to do something to please her, or feared +that something they spoke of would awaken memories distressing to her. +She noticed this and attributed it to his general kindness and +shyness, which she imagined must be the same toward everyone as it was +to her. After those involuntary words--that if he were free he would +have asked on his knees for her hand and her love--uttered at a moment +when she was so strongly agitated, Pierre never spoke to Natasha of +his feelings; and it seemed plain to her that those words, which had +then so comforted her, were spoken as all sorts of meaningless words +are spoken to comfort a crying child. It was not because Pierre was +a married man, but because Natasha felt very strongly with him that +moral barrier the absence of which she had experienced with Kuragin +that it never entered her head that the relations between him and +herself could lead to love on her part, still less on his, or even +to the kind of tender, self-conscious, romantic friendship between a +man and a woman of which she had known several instances. + +Before the end of the fast of St. Peter, Agrafena Ivanovna Belova, a +country neighbor of the Rostovs, came to Moscow to pay her devotions +at the shrines of the Moscow saints. She suggested that Natasha should +fast and prepare for Holy Communion, and Natasha gladly welcomed the +idea. Despite the doctor's orders that she should not go out early +in the morning, Natasha insisted on fasting and preparing for the +sacrament, not as they generally prepared for it in the Rostov +family by attending three services in their own house, but as Agrafena +Ivanovna did, by going to church every day for a week and not once +missing Vespers, Matins, or Mass. + +The countess was pleased with Natasha's zeal; after the poor results +of the medical treatment, in the depths of her heart she hoped that +prayer might help her daughter more than medicines and, though not +without fear and concealing it from the doctor, she agreed to +Natasha's wish and entrusted her to Belova. Agrafena Ivanovna used +to come to wake Natasha at three in the morning, but generally found +her already awake. She was afraid of being late for Matins. Hastily +washing, and meekly putting on her shabbiest dress and an old +mantilla, Natasha, shivering in the fresh air, went out into the +deserted streets lit by the clear light of dawn. By Agrafena +Ivanovna's advice Natasha prepared herself not in their own parish, +but at a church where, according to the devout Agrafena Ivanovna, +the priest was a man of very severe and lofty life. There were never +many people in the church; Natasha always stood beside Belova in the +customary place before an icon of the Blessed Virgin, let into the +screen before the choir on the left side, and a feeling, new to her, +of humility before something great and incomprehensible, seized her +when at that unusual morning hour, gazing at the dark face of the +Virgin illuminated by the candles burning before it and by the morning +light falling from the window, she listened to the words of the +service which she tried to follow with understanding. When she +understood them her personal feeling became interwoven in the +prayers with shades of its own. When she did not understand, it was +sweeter still to think that the wish to understand everything is +pride, that it is impossible to understand all, that it is only +necessary to believe and to commit oneself to God, whom she felt +guiding her soul at those moments. She crossed herself, bowed low, and +when she did not understand, in horror at her own vileness, simply +asked God to forgive her everything, everything, to have mercy upon +her. The prayers to which she surrendered herself most of all were +those of repentance. On her way home at an early hour when she met +no one but bricklayers going to work or men sweeping the street, and +everybody within the houses was still asleep, Natasha experienced a +feeling new to her, a sense of the possibility of correcting her +faults, the possibility of a new, clean life, and of happiness. + +During the whole week she spent in this way, that feeling grew every +day. And the happiness of taking communion, or "communing" as Agrafena +Ivanovna, joyously playing with the word, called it, seemed to Natasha +so great that she felt she should never live till that blessed Sunday. + +But the happy day came, and on that memorable Sunday, when, +dressed in white muslin, she returned home after communion, for the +first time for many months she felt calm and not oppressed by the +thought of the life that lay before her. + +The doctor who came to see her that day ordered her to continue +the powders he had prescribed a fortnight previously. + +"She must certainly go on taking them morning and evening," said he, +evidently sincerely satisfied with his success. "Only, please be +particular about it. + +"Be quite easy," he continued playfully, as he adroitly took the +gold coin in his palm. "She will soon be singing and frolicking about. +The last medicine has done her a very great deal of good. She has +freshened up very much." + +The countess, with a cheerful expression on her face, looked down at +her nails and spat a little for luck as she returned to the drawing +room. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +At the beginning of July more and more disquieting reports about the +war began to spread in Moscow; people spoke of an appeal by the +Emperor to the people, and of his coming himself from the army to +Moscow. And as up to the eleventh of July no manifesto or appeal had +been received, exaggerated reports became current about them and about +the position of Russia. It was said that the Emperor was leaving the +army because it was in danger, it was said that Smolensk had +surrendered, that Napoleon had an army of a million and only a miracle +could save Russia. + +On the eleventh of July, which was Saturday, the manifesto was +received but was not yet in print, and Pierre, who was at the +Rostovs', promised to come to dinner next day, Sunday, and bring a +copy of the manifesto and appeal, which he would obtain from Count +Rostopchin. + +That Sunday, the Rostovs went to Mass at the Razumovskis' private +chapel as usual. It was a hot July day. Even at ten o'clock, when +the Rostovs got out of their carriage at the chapel, the sultry air, +the shouts of hawkers, the light and gay summer clothes of the +crowd, the dusty leaves of the trees on the boulevard, the sounds of +the band and the white trousers of a battalion marching to parade, the +rattling of wheels on the cobblestones, and the brilliant, hot +sunshine were all full of that summer languor, that content and +discontent with the present, which is most strongly felt on a +bright, hot day in town. All the Moscow notabilities, all the Rostovs' +acquaintances, were at the Razumovskis' chapel, for, as if expecting +something to happen, many wealthy families who usually left town for +their country estates had not gone away that summer. As Natasha, at +her mother's side, passed through the crowd behind a liveried +footman who cleared the way for them, she heard a young man speaking +about her in too loud a whisper. + +"That's Rostova, the one who..." + +"She's much thinner, but all the same she's pretty!" + +She heard, or thought she heard, the names of Kuragin and Bolkonski. +But she was always imagining that. It always seemed to her that +everyone who looked at her was thinking only of what had happened to +her. With a sinking heart, wretched as she always was now when she +found herself in a crowd, Natasha in her lilac silk dress trimmed with +black lace walked--as women can walk--with the more repose and +stateliness the greater the pain and shame in her soul. She knew for +certain that she was pretty, but this no longer gave her +satisfaction as it used to. On the contrary it tormented her more than +anything else of late, and particularly so on this bright, hot +summer day in town. "It's Sunday again--another week past," she +thought, recalling that she had been here the Sunday before, "and +always the same life that is no life, and the same surroundings in +which it used to be so easy to live. I'm pretty, I'm young, and I know +that now I am good. I used to be bad, but now I know I am good," she +thought, "but yet my best years are slipping by and are no good to +anyone." She stood by her mother's side and exchanged nods with +acquaintances near her. From habit she scrutinized the ladies' +dresses, condemned the bearing of a lady standing close by who was not +crossing herself properly but in a cramped manner, and again she +thought with vexation that she was herself being judged and was +judging others, and suddenly, at the sound of the service, she felt +horrified at her own vileness, horrified that the former purity of her +soul was again lost to her. + +A comely, fresh-looking old man was conducting the service with that +mild solemnity which has so elevating and soothing an effect on the +souls of the worshipers. The gates of the sanctuary screen were +closed, the curtain was slowly drawn, and from behind it a soft +mysterious voice pronounced some words. Tears, the cause of which +she herself did not understand, made Natasha's breast heave, and a +joyous but oppressive feeling agitated her. + +"Teach me what I should do, how to live my life, how I may grow good +forever, forever!" she pleaded. + +The deacon came out onto the raised space before the altar screen +and, holding his thumb extended, drew his long hair from under his +dalmatic and, making the sign of the cross on his breast, began in a +loud and solemn voice to recite the words of the prayer... + +"In peace let us pray unto the Lord." + +"As one community, without distinction of class, without enmity, +united by brotherly love--let us pray!" thought Natasha. + +"For the peace that is from above, and for the salvation of our +souls." + +"For the world of angels and all the spirits who dwell above us," +prayed Natasha. + +When they prayed for the warriors, she thought of her brother and +Denisov. When they prayed for all traveling by land and sea, she +remembered Prince Andrew, prayed for him, and asked God to forgive her +all the wrongs she had done him. When they prayed for those who love +us, she prayed for the members of her own family, her father and +mother and Sonya, realizing for the first time how wrongly she had +acted toward them, and feeling all the strength of her love for +them. When they prayed for those who hate us, she tried to think of +her enemies and people who hated her, in order to pray for them. She +included among her enemies the creditors and all who had business +dealings with her father, and always at the thought of enemies and +those who hated her she remembered Anatole who had done her so much +harm--and though he did not hate her she gladly prayed for him as +for an enemy. Only at prayer did she feel able to think clearly and +calmly of Prince Andrew and Anatole, as men for whom her feelings were +as nothing compared with her awe and devotion to God. When they prayed +for the Imperial family and the Synod, she bowed very low and made the +sign of the cross, saying to herself that even if she did not +understand, still she could not doubt, and at any rate loved the +governing Synod and prayed for it. + +When he had finished the Litany the deacon crossed the stole over +his breast and said, "Let us commit ourselves and our whole lives to +Christ the Lord!" + +"Commit ourselves to God," Natasha inwardly repeated. "Lord God, I +submit myself to Thy will!" she thought. "I want nothing, wish for +nothing; teach me what to do and how to use my will! Take me, take +me!" prayed Natasha, with impatient emotion in her heart, not crossing +herself but letting her slender arms hang down as if expecting some +invisible power at any moment to take her and deliver her from +herself, from her regrets, desires, remorse, hopes, and sins. + +The countess looked round several times at her daughter's softened +face and shining eyes and prayed God to help her. + +Unexpectedly, in the middle of the service, and not in the usual +order Natasha knew so well, the deacon brought out a small stool, +the one he knelt on when praying on Trinity Sunday, and placed it +before the doors of the sanctuary screen. The priest came out with his +purple velvet biretta on his head, adjusted his hair, and knelt down +with an effort. Everybody followed his example and they looked at +one another in surprise. Then came the prayer just received from the +Synod--a prayer for the deliverance of Russia from hostile invasion. + +"Lord God of might, God of our salvation!" began the priest in +that voice, clear, not grandiloquent but mild, in which only the +Slav clergy read and which acts so irresistibly on a Russian heart. + +"Lord God of might, God of our salvation! Look this day in mercy and +blessing on Thy humble people, and graciously hear us, spare us, and +have mercy upon us! This foe confounding Thy land, desiring to lay +waste the whole world, rises against us; these lawless men are +gathered together to overthrow Thy kingdom, to destroy Thy dear +Jerusalem, Thy beloved Russia; to defile Thy temples, to overthrow +Thine altars, and to desecrate our holy shrines. How long, O Lord, how +long shall the wicked triumph? How long shall they wield unlawful +power? + +"Lord God! Hear us when we pray to Thee; strengthen with Thy might +our most gracious sovereign lord, the Emperor Alexander Pavlovich; +be mindful of his uprightness and meekness, reward him according to +his righteousness, and let it preserve us, Thy chosen Israel! Bless +his counsels, his undertakings, and his work; strengthen his kingdom +by Thine almighty hand, and give him victory over his enemy, even as +Thou gavest Moses the victory over Amalek, Gideon over Midian, and +David over Goliath. Preserve his army, put a bow of brass in the hands +of those who have armed themselves in Thy Name, and gird their loins +with strength for the fight. Take up the spear and shield and arise to +help us; confound and put to shame those who have devised evil against +us, may they be before the faces of Thy faithful warriors as dust +before the wind, and may Thy mighty Angel confound them and put them +to flight; may they be ensnared when they know it not, and may the +plots they have laid in secret be turned against them; let them fall +before Thy servants' feet and be laid low by our hosts! Lord, Thou art +able to save both great and small; Thou art God, and man cannot +prevail against Thee! + +"God of our fathers! Remember Thy bounteous mercy and +loving-kindness which are from of old; turn not Thy face from us, +but be gracious to our unworthiness, and in Thy great goodness and Thy +many mercies regard not our transgressions and iniquities! Create in +us a clean heart and renew a right spirit within us, strengthen us all +in Thy faith, fortify our hope, inspire us with true love one for +another, arm us with unity of spirit in the righteous defense of the +heritage Thou gavest to us and to our fathers, and let not the scepter +of the wicked be exalted against the destiny of those Thou hast +sanctified. + +"O Lord our God, in whom we believe and in whom we put our trust, +let us not be confounded in our hope of Thy mercy, and give us a token +of Thy blessing, that those who hate us and our Orthodox faith may see +it and be put to shame and perish, and may all the nations know that +Thou art the Lord and we are Thy people. Show Thy mercy upon us this +day, O Lord, and grant us Thy salvation; make the hearts of Thy +servants to rejoice in Thy mercy; smite down our enemies and destroy +them swiftly beneath the feet of Thy faithful servants! For Thou art +the defense, the succor, and the victory of them that put their +trust in Thee, and to Thee be all glory, to Father, Son, and Holy +Ghost, now and forever, world without end. Amen." + +In Natasha's receptive condition of soul this prayer affected her +strongly. She listened to every word about the victory of Moses over +Amalek, of Gideon over Midian, and of David over Goliath, and about +the destruction of "Thy Jerusalem," and she prayed to God with the +tenderness and emotion with which her heart was overflowing, but +without fully understanding what she was asking of God in that prayer. +She shared with all her heart in the prayer for the spirit of +righteousness, for the strengthening of the heart by faith and hope, +and its animation by love. But she could not pray that her enemies +might be trampled under foot when but a few minutes before she had +been wishing she had more of them that she might pray for them. But +neither could she doubt the righteousness of the prayer that was being +read on bended knees. She felt in her heart a devout and tremulous awe +at the thought of the punishment that overtakes men for their sins, +and especially of her own sins, and she prayed to God to forgive +them all, and her too, and to give them all, and her too, peace and +happiness. And it seemed to her that God heard her prayer. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +From the day when Pierre, after leaving the Rostovs' with +Natasha's grateful look fresh in his mind, had gazed at the comet that +seemed to be fixed in the sky and felt that something new was +appearing on his own horizon--from that day the problem of the +vanity and uselessness of all earthly things, that had incessantly +tormented him, no longer presented itself. That terrible question +"Why?" "Wherefore?" which had come to him amid every occupation, was +now replaced, not by another question or by a reply to the former +question, but by her image. When he listened to, or himself took +part in, trivial conversations, when he read or heard of human +baseness or folly, he was not horrified as formerly, and did not ask +himself why men struggled so about these things when all is so +transient and incomprehensible--but he remembered her as he had last +seen her, and all his doubts vanished--not because she had answered +the questions that had haunted him, but because his conception of +her transferred him instantly to another, a brighter, realm of +spiritual activity in which no one could be justified or guilty--a +realm of beauty and love which it was worth living for. Whatever +worldly baseness presented itself to him, he said to himself: + +"Well, supposing N. N. swindled the country and the Tsar, and the +country and the Tsar confer honors upon him, what does that matter? +She smiled at me yesterday and asked me to come again, and I love her, +and no one will ever know it." And his soul felt calm and peaceful. + +Pierre still went into society, drank as much and led the same +idle and dissipated life, because besides the hours he spent at the +Rostovs' there were other hours he had to spend somehow, and the +habits and acquaintances he had made in Moscow formed a current that +bore him along irresistibly. But latterly, when more and more +disquieting reports came from the seat of war and Natasha's health +began to improve and she no longer aroused in him the former feeling +of careful pity, an ever-increasing restlessness, which he could not +explain, took possession of him. He felt that the condition he was +in could not continue long, that a catastrophe was coming which +would change his whole life, and he impatiently sought everywhere +for signs of that approaching catastrophe. One of his brother Masons +had revealed to Pierre the following prophecy concerning Napoleon, +drawn from the Revelation of St. John. + +In chapter 13, verse 18, of the Apocalypse, it is said: + + +Here is wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number +of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is Six +hundred threescore and six. + +And in the fifth verse of the same chapter: + + +And there was given unto him a mouth speaking great things and +blasphemies; and power was given unto him to continue forty and two +months. + + +The French alphabet, written out with the same numerical values as +the Hebrew, in which the first nine letters denote units and the +others tens, will have the following significance: + + a b c d e f g h i k + 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 + l m n o p q r s + 20 30 40 50 60 70 80 90 + t u v w x y + 100 110 120 130 140 150 + z + 160 + + +Writing the words L'Empereur Napoleon in numbers, it appears that +the sum of them is 666, and that Napoleon therefore the beast foretold +in the Apocalypse. Moreover, by applying the same system to the +words quarante-deux,* which was the term allowed to the beast that +"spoke great things and blasphemies," the same number 666 was +obtained; from which it followed that the limit fixed for Napoleon's +power had come in the year 1812 when the French emperor was forty-two. +This prophecy pleased Pierre very much and he often asked himself what +would put an end to the power of the beast, that is, of Napoleon, +and tried by the same system of using letters as numbers and adding +them up, to find an answer to the question that engrossed him. He +wrote the words L'Empereur Alexandre, La nation russe and added up +their numbers, but the sums were either more or less than 666. Once +when making such calculations he wrote down his own name in French, +Comte Pierre Besouhoff, but the sum of the numbers did not come right. +Then he changed the spelling, substituting a z for the s and adding de +and the article le, still without obtaining the desired result. Then +it occurred to him: if the answer to the question were contained in +his name, his nationality would also be given in the answer. So he +wrote Le russe Besuhof and adding up the numbers got 671. This was +only five too much, and five was represented by e, the very letter +elided from the article le before the word Empereur. By omitting the +e, though incorrectly, Pierre got the answer he sought. L'russe +Besuhof made 666. This discovery excited him. How, or by what means, +he was connected with the great event foretold in the Apocalypse he +did not know, but he did not doubt that connection for a moment. His +love for Natasha, Antichrist, Napoleon, the invasion, the comet, +666, L'Empereur Napoleon, and L'russe Besuhof--all this had to +mature and culminate, to lift him out of that spellbound, petty sphere +of Moscow habits in which he felt himself held captive and lead him to +a great achievement and great happiness. + + +*Forty-two. + + + +On the eve of the Sunday when the special prayer was read, Pierre +had promised the Rostovs to bring them, from Count Rostopchin whom +he knew well, both the appeal to the people and the news from the +army. In the morning, when he went to call at Rostopchin's he met +there a courier fresh from the army, an acquaintance of his own, who +often danced at Moscow balls. + +"Do, please, for heaven's sake, relieve me of something!" said the +courier. "I have a sackful of letters to parents." + +Among these letters was one from Nicholas Rostov to his father. +Pierre took that letter, and Rostopchin also gave him the Emperor's +appeal to Moscow, which had just been printed, the last army orders, +and his own most recent bulletin. Glancing through the army orders, +Pierre found in one of them, in the lists of killed, wounded, and +rewarded, the name of Nicholas Rostov, awarded a St. George's Cross of +the Fourth Class for courage shown in the Ostrovna affair, and in +the same order the name of Prince Andrew Bolkonski, appointed to the +command of a regiment of Chasseurs. Though he did not want to remind +the Rostovs of Bolkonski, Pierre could not refrain from making them +happy by the news of their son's having received a decoration, so he +sent that printed army order and Nicholas' letter to the Rostovs, +keeping the appeal, the bulletin, and the other orders to take with +him when he went to dinner. + +His conversation with Count Rostopchin and the latter's tone of +anxious hurry, the meeting with the courier who talked casually of how +badly things were going in the army, the rumors of the discovery of +spies in Moscow and of a leaflet in circulation stating that +Napoleon promised to be in both the Russian capitals by the autumn, +and the talk of the Emperor's being expected to arrive next day--all +aroused with fresh force that feeling of agitation and expectation +in Pierre which he had been conscious of ever since the appearance +of the comet, and especially since the beginning of the war. + +He had long been thinking of entering the army and would have done +so had he not been hindered, first, by his membership of the Society +of Freemasons to which he was bound by oath and which preached +perpetual peace and the abolition of war, and secondly, by the fact +that when he saw the great mass of Muscovites who had donned uniform +and were talking patriotism, he somehow felt ashamed to take the step. +But the chief reason for not carrying out his intention to enter the +army lay in the vague idea that he was L'russe Besuhof who had the +number of the beast, 666; that his part in the great affair of setting +a limit to the power of the beast that spoke great and blasphemous +things had been predestined from eternity, and that therefore he ought +not to undertake anything, but wait for what was bound to come to +pass. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +A few intimate friends were dining with the Rostovs that day, as +usual on Sundays. + +Pierre came early so as to find them alone. + +He had grown so stout this year that he would have been abnormal had +he not been so tall, so broad of limb, and so strong that he carried +his bulk with evident ease. + +He went up the stairs, puffing and muttering something. His coachman +did not even ask whether he was to wait. He knew that when his +master was at the Rostovs' he stayed till midnight. The Rostovs' +footman rushed eagerly forward to help him off with his cloak and take +his hat and stick. Pierre, from club habit, always left both hat and +stick in the anteroom. + +The first person he saw in the house was Natasha. Even before he saw +her, while taking off his cloak, he heard her. She was practicing +solfa exercises in the music room. He knew that she had not sung since +her illness, and so the sound of her voice surprised and delighted +him. He opened the door softly and saw her, in the lilac dress she had +worn at church, walking about the room singing. She had her back to +him when he opened the door, but when, turning quickly, she saw his +broad, surprised face, she blushed and came rapidly up to him. + +"I want to try to sing again," she said, adding as if by way of +excuse, "it is, at least, something to do." + +"That's capital!" + +"How glad I am you've come! I am so happy today," she said, with the +old animation Pierre had not seen in her for along time. "You know +Nicholas has received a St. George's Cross? I am so proud of him." + +"Oh yes, I sent that announcement. But I don't want to interrupt +you," he added, and was about to go to the drawing room. + +Natasha stopped him. + +"Count, is it wrong of me to sing?" she said blushing, and fixing +her eyes inquiringly on him. + +"No... Why should it be? On the contrary... But why do you ask me?" + +"I don't know myself," Natasha answered quickly, "but I should not +like to do anything you disapproved of. I believe in you completely. +You don't know how important you are to me, how much you've done for +me...." She spoke rapidly and did not notice how Pierre flushed at her +words. "I saw in that same army order that he, Bolkonski" (she +whispered the name hastily), "is in Russia, and in the army again. +What do you think?"--she was speaking hurriedly, evidently afraid +her strength might fail her--"Will he ever forgive me? Will he not +always have a bitter feeling toward me? What do you think? What do you +think?" + +"I think..." Pierre replied, "that he has nothing to forgive.... +If I were in his place..." + +By association of ideas, Pierre was at once carried back to the +day when, trying to comfort her, he had said that if he were not +himself but the best man in the world and free, he would ask on his +knees for her hand; and the same feeling of pity, tenderness, and love +took possession of him and the same words rose to his lips. But she +did not give him time to say them. + +"Yes, you... you..." she said, uttering the word you rapturously- +"that's a different thing. I know no one kinder, more generous, or +better than you; nobody could be! Had you not been there then, and now +too, I don't know what would have become of me, because..." + +Tears suddenly rose in her eyes, she turned away, lifted her music +before her eyes, began singing again, and again began walking up and +down the room. + +Just then Petya came running in from the drawing room. + +Petya was now a handsome rosy lad of fifteen with full red lips +and resembled Natasha. He was preparing to enter the university, but +he and his friend Obolenski had lately, in secret, agreed to join +the hussars. + +Petya had come rushing out to talk to his namesake about this +affair. He had asked Pierre to find out whether he would be accepted +in the hussars. + +Pierre walked up and down the drawing room, not listening to what +Petya was saying. + +Petya pulled him by the arm to attract his attention. + +"Well, what about my plan? Peter Kirilych, for heaven's sake! You +are my only hope," said Petya. + +"Oh yes, your plan. To join the hussars? I'll mention it, I'll bring +it all up today." + +"Well, mon cher, have you got the manifesto?" asked the old count. +"The countess has been to Mass at the Razumovskis' and heard the new +prayer. She says it's very fine." + +"Yes, I've got it," said Pierre. "The Emperor is to be here +tomorrow... there's to be an Extraordinary Meeting of the nobility, +and they are talking of a levy of ten men per thousand. Oh yes, let me +congratulate you!" + +"Yes, yes, thank God! Well, and what news from the army?" + +"We are again retreating. They say we're already near Smolensk," +replied Pierre. + +"O Lord, O Lord!" exclaimed the count. "Where is the manifesto?" + +"The Emperor's appeal? Oh yes!" + +Pierre began feeling in his pockets for the papers, but could not +find them. Still slapping his pockets, he kissed the hand of the +countess who entered the room and glanced uneasily around, evidently +expecting Natasha, who had left off singing but had not yet come +into the drawing room. + +"On my word, I don't know what I've done with it," he said. + +"There he is, always losing everything!" remarked the countess. + +Natasha entered with a softened and agitated expression of face +and sat down looking silently at Pierre. As soon as she entered, +Pierre's features, which had been gloomy, suddenly lighted up, and +while still searching for the papers he glanced at her several times. + +"No, really! I'll drive home, I must have left them there. I'll +certainly..." + +"But you'll be late for dinner." + +"Oh! And my coachman has gone." + +But Sonya, who had gone to look for the papers in the anteroom, +had found them in Pierre's hat, where he had carefully tucked them +under the lining. Pierre was about to begin reading. + +"No, after dinner," said the old count, evidently expecting much +enjoyment from that reading. + +At dinner, at which champagne was drunk to the health of the new +chevalier of St. George, Shinshin told them the town news, of the +illness of the old Georgian princess, of Metivier's disappearance from +Moscow, and of how some German fellow had been brought to Rostopchin +and accused of being a French "spyer" (so Count Rostopchin had told +the story), and how Rostopchin let him go and assured the people +that he was "not a spire at all, but only an old German ruin." + +"People are being arrested..." said the count. "I've told the +countess she should not speak French so much. It's not the time for it +now." + +"And have you heard?" Shinshin asked. "Prince Golitsyn has engaged a +master to teach him Russian. It is becoming dangerous to speak +French in the streets." + +"And how about you, Count Peter Kirilych? If they call up the +militia, you too will have to mount a horse," remarked the old +count, addressing Pierre. + +Pierre had been silent and preoccupied all through dinner, seeming +not to grasp what was said. He looked at the count. + +"Oh yes, the war," he said. "No! What sort of warrior should I make? +And yet everything is so strange, so strange! I can't make it out. I +don't know, I am very far from having military tastes, but in these +times no one can answer for himself." + +After dinner the count settled himself comfortably in an easy +chair and with a serious face asked Sonya, who was considered an +excellent reader, to read the appeal. + + +"To Moscow, our ancient Capital! + +"The enemy has entered the borders of Russia with immense forces. He +comes to despoil our beloved country," + + +Sonya read painstakingly in her high-pitched voice. The count +listened with closed eyes, heaving abrupt sighs at certain passages. + +Natasha sat erect, gazing with a searching look now at her father +and now at Pierre. + +Pierre felt her eyes on him and tried not to look round. The +countess shook her head disapprovingly and angrily at every solemn +expression in the manifesto. In all these words she saw only that +the danger threatening her son would not soon be over. Shinshin, +with a sarcastic smile on his lips, was evidently preparing to make +fun of anything that gave him the opportunity: Sonya's reading, any +remark of the count's, or even the manifesto itself should no better +pretext present itself. + +After reading about the dangers that threatened Russia, the hopes +the Emperor placed on Moscow and especially on its illustrious +nobility, Sonya, with a quiver in her voice due chiefly to the +attention that was being paid to her, read the last words: + + +"We ourselves will not delay to appear among our people in that +Capital and in others parts of our realm for consultation, and for the +direction of all our levies, both those now barring the enemy's path +and those freshly formed to defeat him wherever he may appear. May the +ruin he hopes to bring upon us recoil on his own head, and may +Europe delivered from bondage glorify the name of Russia!" + + +"Yes, that's it!" cried the count, opening his moist eyes and +sniffing repeatedly, as if a strong vinaigrette had been held to his +nose; and he added, "Let the Emperor but say the word and we'll +sacrifice everything and begrudge nothing." + +Before Shinshin had time to utter the joke he was ready to make on +the count's patriotism, Natasha jumped up from her place and ran to +her father. + +"What a darling our Papa is!" she cried, kissing him, and she +again looked at Pierre with the unconscious coquetry that had returned +to her with her better spirits. + +"There! Here's a patriot for you!" said Shinshin. + +"Not a patriot at all, but simply..." Natasha replied in an +injured tone. "Everything seems funny to you, but this isn't at all +a joke...." + +"A joke indeed!" put in the count. "Let him but say the word and +we'll all go.... We're not Germans!" + +"But did you notice, it says, 'for consultation'?" said Pierre. + +"Never mind what it's for...." + +At this moment, Petya, to whom nobody was paying any attention, came +up to his father with a very flushed face and said in his breaking +voice that was now deep and now shrill: + +"Well, Papa, I tell you definitely, and Mamma too, it's as you +please, but I say definitely that you must let me enter the army, +because I can't... that's all...." + +The countess, in dismay, looked up to heaven, clasped her hands, and +turned angrily to her husband. + +"That comes of your talking!" said she. + +But the count had already recovered from his excitement. + +"Come, come!" said he. "Here's a fine warrior! No! Nonsense! You +must study." + +"It's not nonsense, Papa. Fedya Obolenski is younger than I, and +he's going too. Besides, all the same I can't study now when..." Petya +stopped short, flushed till he perspired, but still got out the words, +"when our Fatherland is in danger." + +"That'll do, that'll do--nonsense...." + +"But you said yourself that we would sacrifice everything." + +"Petya! Be quiet, I tell you!" cried the count, with a glance at his +wife, who had turned pale and was staring fixedly at her son. + +"And I tell you--Peter Kirilych here will also tell you..." + +"Nonsense, I tell you. Your mother's milk has hardly dried on your +lips and you want to go into the army! There, there, I tell you," +and the count moved to go out of the room, taking the papers, probably +to reread them in his study before having a nap. + +"Well, Peter Kirilych, let's go and have a smoke," he said. + +Pierre was agitated and undecided. Natasha's unwontedly brilliant +eyes, continually glancing at him with a more than cordial look, had +reduced him to this condition. + +"No, I think I'll go home." + +"Home? Why, you meant to spend the evening with us.... You don't +often come nowadays as it is, and this girl of mine," said the count +good-naturedly, pointing to Natasha, "only brightens up when you're +here." + +"Yes, I had forgotten... I really must go home... business..." +said Pierre hurriedly. + +"Well, then, au revoir!" said the count, and went out of the room. + +"Why are you going? Why are you upset?" asked Natasha, and she +looked challengingly into Pierre's eyes. + +"Because I love you!" was what he wanted to say, but he did not +say it, and only blushed till the tears came, and lowered his eyes. + +"Because it is better for me to come less often... because... No, +simply I have business...." + +"Why? No, tell me!" Natasha began resolutely and suddenly stopped. + +They looked at each other with dismayed and embarrassed faces. He +tried to smile but could not: his smile expressed suffering, and he +silently kissed her hand and went out. + +Pierre made up his mind not to go to the Rostovs' any more. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +After the definite refusal he had received, Petya went to his room +and there locked himself in and wept bitterly. When he came in to tea, +silent, morose, and with tear-stained face, everybody pretended not to +notice anything. + +Next day the Emperor arrived in Moscow, and several of the +Rostovs' domestic serfs begged permission to go to have a look at him. +That morning Petya was a long time dressing and arranging his hair and +collar to look like a grown-up man. He frowned before his looking +glass, gesticulated, shrugged his shoulders, and finally, without +saying a word to anyone, took his cap and left the house by the back +door, trying to avoid notice. Petya decided to go straight to where +the Emperor was and to explain frankly to some gentleman-in-waiting +(he imagined the Emperor to be always surrounded by +gentlemen-in-waiting) that he, Count Rostov, in spite of his youth +wished to serve his country; that youth could be no hindrance to +loyalty, and that he was ready to... While dressing, Petya had +prepared many fine things he meant to say to the gentleman-in-waiting. + +It was on the very fact of being so young that Petya counted for +success in reaching the Emperor--he even thought how surprised +everyone would be at his youthfulness--and yet in the arrangement of +his collar and hair and by his sedate deliberate walk he wished to +appear a grown-up man. But the farther he went and the more his +attention was diverted by the ever-increasing crowds moving toward the +Kremlin, the less he remembered to walk with the sedateness and +deliberation of a man. As he approached the Kremlin he even began to +avoid being crushed and resolutely stuck out his elbows in a +menacing way. But within the Trinity Gateway he was so pressed to +the wall by people who probably were unaware of the patriotic +intentions with which he had come that in spite of all his +determination he had to give in, and stop while carriages passed in, +rumbling beneath the archway. Beside Petya stood a peasant woman, a +footman, two tradesmen, and a discharged soldier. After standing +some time in the gateway, Petya tried to move forward in front of +the others without waiting for all the carriages to pass, and he began +resolutely working his way with his elbows, but the woman just in +front of him, who was the first against whom he directed his +efforts, angrily shouted at him: + +"What are you shoving for, young lordling? Don't you see we're all +standing still? Then why push?" + +"Anybody can shove," said the footman, and also began working his +elbows to such effect that he pushed Petya into a very filthy corner +of the gateway. + +Petya wiped his perspiring face with his hands and pulled up the +damp collar which he had arranged so well at home to seem like a +man's. + +He felt that he no longer looked presentable, and feared that if +he were now to approach the gentlemen-in-waiting in that plight he +would not be admitted to the Emperor. But it was impossible to smarten +oneself up or move to another place, because of the crowd. One of +the generals who drove past was an acquaintance of the Rostovs', and +Petya thought of asking his help, but came to the conclusion that that +would not be a manly thing to do. When the carriages had all passed +in, the crowd, carrying Petya with it, streamed forward into the +Kremlin Square which was already full of people. There were people not +only in the square, but everywhere--on the slopes and on the roofs. As +soon as Petya found himself in the square he clearly heard the sound +of bells and the joyous voices of the crowd that filled the whole +Kremlin. + +For a while the crowd was less dense, but suddenly all heads were +bared, and everyone rushed forward in one direction. Petya was being +pressed so that he could scarcely breathe, and everybody shouted, +"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" Petya stood on tiptoe and pushed and +pinched, but could see nothing except the people about him. + +All the faces bore the same expression of excitement and enthusiasm. +A tradesman's wife standing beside Petya sobbed, and the tears ran +down her cheeks. + +"Father! Angel! Dear one!" she kept repeating, wiping away her tears +with her fingers. + +"Hurrah!" was heard on all sides. + +For a moment the crowd stood still, but then it made another rush +forward. + +Quite beside himself, Petya, clinching his teeth and rolling his +eyes ferociously, pushed forward, elbowing his way and shouting +"hurrah!" as if he were prepared that instant to kill himself and +everyone else, but on both sides of him other people with similarly +ferocious faces pushed forward and everybody shouted "hurrah!" + +"So this is what the Emperor is!" thought Petya. "No, I can't +petition him myself--that would be too bold." But in spite of this +he continued to struggle desperately forward, and from between the +backs of those in front he caught glimpses of an open space with a +strip of red cloth spread out on it; but just then the crowd swayed +back--the police in front were pushing back those who had pressed +too close to the procession: the Emperor was passing from the palace +to the Cathedral of the Assumption--and Petya unexpectedly received +such a blow on his side and ribs and was squeezed so hard that +suddenly everything grew dim before his eyes and he lost +consciousness. When he came to himself, a man of clerical appearance +with a tuft of gray hair at the back of his head and wearing a +shabby blue cassock--probably a church clerk and chanter--was +holding him under the arm with one hand while warding off the pressure +of the crowd with the other. + +"You've crushed the young gentleman!" said the clerk. "What are +you up to? Gently!... They've crushed him, crushed him!" + +The Emperor entered the Cathedral of the Assumption. The crowd +spread out again more evenly, and the clerk led Petya--pale and +breathless--to the Tsar-cannon. Several people were sorry for Petya, +and suddenly a crowd turned toward him and pressed round him. Those +who stood nearest him attended to him, unbuttoned his coat, seated him +on the raised platform of the cannon, and reproached those others +(whoever they might be) who had crushed him. + +"One might easily get killed that way! What do they mean by it? +Killing people! Poor dear, he's as white as a sheet!"--various +voices were heard saying. + +Petya soon came to himself, the color returned to his face, the pain +had passed, and at the cost of that temporary unpleasantness he had +obtained a place by the cannon from where he hoped to see the +Emperor who would be returning that way. Petya no longer thought of +presenting his petition. If he could only see the Emperor he would +be happy! + +While the service was proceeding in the Cathedral of the Assumption- +it was a combined service of prayer on the occasion of the Emperor's +arrival and of thanksgiving for the conclusion of peace with the +Turks--the crowd outside spread out and hawkers appeared, selling +kvas, gingerbread, and poppyseed sweets (of which Petya was +particularly fond), and ordinary conversation could again be heard. +A tradesman's wife was showing a rent in her shawl and telling how +much the shawl had cost; another was saying that all silk goods had +now got dear. The clerk who had rescued Petya was talking to a +functionary about the priests who were officiating that day with the +bishop. The clerk several times used the word "plenary" (of the +service), a word Petya did not understand. Two young citizens were +joking with some serf girls who were cracking nuts. All these +conversations, especially the joking with the girls, were such as +might have had a particular charm for Petya at his age, but they did +not interest him now. He sat on his elevation--the pedestal of the +cannon--still agitated as before by the thought of the Emperor and +by his love for him. The feeling of pain and fear he had experienced +when he was being crushed, together with that of rapture, still +further intensified his sense of the importance of the occasion. + +Suddenly the sound of a firing of cannon was heard from the +embankment, to celebrate the signing of peace with the Turks, and +the crowd rushed impetuously toward the embankment to watch the +firing. Petya too would have run there, but the clerk who had taken +the young gentleman under his protection stopped him. The firing was +still proceeding when officers, generals, and gentlemen-in-waiting +came running out of the cathedral, and after them others in a more +leisurely manner: caps were again raised, and those who had run to +look at the cannon ran back again. At last four men in uniforms and +sashes emerged from the cathedral doors. "Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted the +crowd again. + +"Which is he? Which?" asked Petya in a tearful voice, of those +around him, but no one answered him, everybody was too excited; and +Petya, fixing on one of those four men, whom he could not clearly +see for the tears of joy that filled his eyes, concentrated all his +enthusiasm on him--though it happened not to be the Emperor- +frantically shouted "Hurrah!" and resolved that tomorrow, come what +might, he would join the army. + +The crowd ran after the Emperor, followed him to the palace, and +began to disperse. It was already late, and Petya had not eaten +anything and was drenched with perspiration, yet he did not go home +but stood with that diminishing, but still considerable, crowd +before the palace while the Emperor dined--looking in at the palace +windows, expecting he knew not what, and envying alike the notables he +saw arriving at the entrance to dine with the Emperor and the court +footmen who served at table, glimpses of whom could be seen through +the windows. + +While the Emperor was dining, Valuev, looking out of the window, +said: + +"The people are still hoping to see Your Majesty again." + +The dinner was nearly over, and the Emperor, munching a biscuit, +rose and went out onto the balcony. The people, with Petya among them, +rushed toward the balcony. + +"Angel! Dear one! Hurrah! Father!..." cried the crowd, and Petya +with it, and again the women and men of weaker mold, Petya among them, +wept with joy. + +A largish piece of the biscuit the Emperor was holding in his hand +broke off, fell on the balcony parapet, and then to the ground. A +coachman in a jerkin, who stood nearest, sprang forward and snatched +it up. Several people in the crowd rushed at the coachman. Seeing this +the Emperor had a plateful of biscuits brought him and began +throwing them down from the balcony. Petya's eyes grew bloodshot, +and still more excited by the danger of being crushed, he rushed at +the biscuits. He did not know why, but he had to have a biscuit from +the Tsar's hand and he felt that he must not give way. He sprang +forward and upset an old woman who was catching at a biscuit; the +old woman did not consider herself defeated though she was lying on +the ground--she grabbed at some biscuits but her hand did not reach +them. Petya pushed her hand away with his knee, seized a biscuit, +and as if fearing to be too late, again shouted "Hurrah!" with a voice +already hoarse. + +The Emperor went in, and after that the greater part of the crowd +began to disperse. + +"There! I said if only we waited--and so it was!" was being joyfully +said by various people. + +Happy as Petya was, he felt sad at having to go home knowing that +all the enjoyment of that day was over. He did not go straight home +from the Kremlin, but called on his friend Obolenski, who was +fifteen and was also entering the regiment. On returning home Petya +announced resolutely and firmly that if he was not allowed to enter +the service he would run away. And next day, Count Ilya Rostov--though +he had not yet quite yielded--went to inquire how he could arrange for +Petya to serve where there would be least danger. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Two days later, on the fifteenth of July, an immense number of +carriages were standing outside the Sloboda Palace. + +The great halls were full. In the first were the nobility and gentry +in their uniforms, in the second bearded merchants in full-skirted +coats of blue cloth and wearing medals. In the noblemen's hall there +was an incessant movement and buzz of voices. The chief magnates sat +on high-backed chairs at a large table under the portrait of the +Emperor, but most of the gentry were strolling about the room. + +All these nobles, whom Pierre met every day at the Club or in +their own houses, were in uniform--some in that of Catherine's day, +others in that of Emperor Paul, others again in the new uniforms of +Alexander's time or the ordinary uniform of the nobility, and the +general characteristic of being in uniform imparted something +strange and fantastic to these diverse and familiar personalities, +both old and young. The old men, dim-eyed, toothless, bald, sallow, +and bloated, or gaunt and wrinkled, were especially striking. For +the most part they sat quietly in their places and were silent, or, if +they walked about and talked, attached themselves to someone +younger. On all these faces, as on the faces of the crowd Petya had +seen in the Square, there was a striking contradiction: the general +expectation of a solemn event, and at the same time the everyday +interests in a boston card party, Peter the cook, Zinaida Dmitrievna's +health, and so on. + +Pierre was there too, buttoned up since early morning in a +nobleman's uniform that had become too tight for him. He was agitated; +this extraordinary gathering not only of nobles but also of the +merchant-class--les etats generaux (States-General)--evoked in him a +whole series of ideas he had long laid aside but which were deeply +graven in his soul: thoughts of the Contrat social and the French +Revolution. The words that had struck him in the Emperor's appeal- +that the sovereign was coming to the capital for consultation with his +people--strengthened this idea. And imagining that in this direction +something important which he had long awaited was drawing near, he +strolled about watching and listening to conversations, but nowhere +finding any confirmation of the ideas that occupied him. + +The Emperor's manifesto was read, evoking enthusiasm, and then all +moved about discussing it. Besides the ordinary topics of +conversation, Pierre heard questions of where the marshals of the +nobility were to stand when the Emperor entered, when a ball should be +given in the Emperor's honor, whether they should group themselves +by districts or by whole provinces... and so on; but as soon as the +war was touched on, or what the nobility had been convened for, the +talk became undecided and indefinite. Then all preferred listening +to speaking. + +A middle-aged man, handsome and virile, in the uniform of a +retired naval officer, was speaking in one of the rooms, and a small +crowd was pressing round him. Pierre went up to the circle that had +formed round the speaker and listened. Count Ilya Rostov, in a +military uniform of Catherine's time, was sauntering with a pleasant +smile among the crowd, with all of whom he was acquainted. He too +approached that group and listened with a kindly smile and nods of +approval, as he always did, to what the speaker was saying. The +retired naval man was speaking very boldly, as was evident from the +expression on the faces of the listeners and from the fact that some +people Pierre knew as the meekest and quietest of men walked away +disapprovingly or expressed disagreement with him. Pierre pushed his +way into the middle of the group, listened, and convinced himself that +the man was indeed a liberal, but of views quite different from his +own. The naval officer spoke in a particularly sonorous, musical, +and aristocratic baritone voice, pleasantly swallowing his r's and +generally slurring his consonants: the voice of a man calling out to +his servant, "Heah! Bwing me my pipe!" It was indicative of +dissipation and the exercise of authority. + +"What if the Smolensk people have offahd to waise militia for the +Empewah? Ah we to take Smolensk as our patte'n? If the noble +awistocwacy of the pwovince of Moscow thinks fit, it can show its +loyalty to our sov'weign the Empewah in other ways. Have we +fo'gotten the waising of the militia in the yeah 'seven? All that +did was to enwich the pwiests' sons and thieves and wobbahs...." + +Count Ilya Rostov smiled blandly and nodded approval. + +"And was our militia of any use to the Empia? Not at all! It only +wuined our farming! Bettah have another conscwiption... o' ou' men +will wetu'n neithah soldiers no' peasants, and we'll get only +depwavity fwom them. The nobility don't gwudge theah lives--evewy +one of us will go and bwing in more wecwuits, and the sov'weign" (that +was the way he referred to the Emperor) "need only say the word and +we'll all die fo' him!" added the orator with animation. + +Count Rostov's mouth watered with pleasure and he nudged Pierre, but +Pierre wanted to speak himself. He pushed forward, feeling stirred, +but not yet sure what stirred him or what he would say. Scarcely had +he opened his mouth when one of the senators, a man without a tooth in +his head, with a shrewd though angry expression, standing near the +first speaker, interrupted him. Evidently accustomed to managing +debates and to maintaining an argument, he began in low but distinct +tones: + +"I imagine, sir," said he, mumbling with his toothless mouth, +"that we have been summoned here not to discuss whether it's best +for the empire at the present moment to adopt conscription or to +call out the militia. We have been summoned to reply to the appeal +with which our sovereign the Emperor has honored us. But to judge what +is best--conscription or the militia--we can leave to the supreme +authority...." + +Pierre suddenly saw an outlet for his excitement. He hardened his +heart against the senator who was introducing this set and narrow +attitude into the deliberations of the nobility. Pierre stepped +forward and interrupted him. He himself did not yet know what he would +say, but he began to speak eagerly, occasionally lapsing into French +or expressing himself in bookish Russian. + +"Excuse me, your excellency," he began. (He was well acquainted with +the senator, but thought it necessary on this occasion to address +him formally.) "Though I don't agree with the gentleman..." (he +hesitated: he wished to say, "Mon tres honorable preopinant"--"My very +honorable opponent") "with the gentleman... whom I have not the +honor of knowing, I suppose that the nobility have been summoned not +merely to express their sympathy and enthusiasm but also to consider +the means by which we can assist our Fatherland! I imagine," he went +on, warming to his subject, "that the Emperor himself would not be +satisfied to find in us merely owners of serfs whom we are willing +to devote to his service, and chair a canon* we are ready to make of +ourselves--and not to obtain from us any co-co-counsel." + + +*"Food for cannon." + + +Many persons withdrew from the circle, noticing the senator's +sarcastic smile and the freedom of Pierre's remarks. Only Count Rostov +was pleased with them as he had been pleased with those of the naval +officer, the senator, and in general with whatever speech he had +last heard. + +"I think that before discussing these questions," Pierre +continued, "we should ask the Emperor--most respectfully ask His +Majesty--to let us know the number of our troops and the position in +which our army and our forces now are, and then..." + +But scarcely had Pierre uttered these words before he was attacked +from three sides. The most vigorous attack came from an old +acquaintance, a boston player who had always been well disposed toward +him, Stepan Stepanovich Adraksin. Adraksin was in uniform, and whether +as a result of the uniform or from some other cause Pierre saw +before him quite a different man. With a sudden expression of +malevolence on his aged face, Adraksin shouted at Pierre: + +"In the first place, I tell you we have no right to question the +Emperor about that, and secondly, if the Russian nobility had that +right, the Emperor could not answer such a question. The troops are +moved according to the enemy's movements and the number of men +increases and decreases..." + +Another voice, that of a nobleman of medium height and about forty +years of age, whom Pierre had formerly met at the gypsies' and knew as +a bad cardplayer, and who, also transformed by his uniform, came up to +Pierre, interrupted Adraksin. + +"Yes, and this is not a time for discussing," he continued, "but for +acting: there is war in Russia! The enemy is advancing to destroy +Russia, to desecrate the tombs of our fathers, to carry off our +wives and children." The nobleman smote his breast. "We will all +arise, every one of us will go, for our father the Tsar!" he +shouted, rolling his bloodshot eyes. Several approving voices were +heard in the crowd. "We are Russians and will not grudge our blood +in defense of our faith, the throne, and the Fatherland! We must cease +raving if we are sons of our Fatherland! We will show Europe how +Russia rises to the defense of Russia!" + +Pierre wished to reply, but could not get in a word. He felt that +his words, apart from what meaning they conveyed, were less audible +than the sound of his opponent's voice. + +Count Rostov at the back of the crowd was expressing approval; +several persons, briskly turning a shoulder to the orator at the end +of a phrase, said: + +"That's right, quite right! Just so!" + +Pierre wished to say that he was ready to sacrifice his money, his +serfs, or himself, only one ought to know the state of affairs in +order to be able to improve it, but he was unable to speak. Many +voices shouted and talked at the same time, so that Count Rostov had +not time to signify his approval of them all, and the group increased, +dispersed, re-formed, and then moved with a hum of talk into the +largest hall and to the big table. Not only was Pierre's attempt to +speak unsuccessful, but he was rudely interrupted, pushed aside, and +people turned away from him as from a common enemy. This happened +not because they were displeased by the substance of his speech, which +had even been forgotten after the many subsequent speeches, but to +animate it the crowd needed a tangible object to love and a tangible +object to hate. Pierre became the latter. Many other orators spoke +after the excited nobleman, and all in the same tone. Many spoke +eloquently and with originality. + +Glinka, the editor of the Russian Messenger, who was recognized +(cries of "author! author!" were heard in the crowd), said that +"hell must be repulsed by hell," and that he had seen a child +smiling at lightning flashes and thunderclaps, but "we will not be +that child." + +"Yes, yes, at thunderclaps!" was repeated approvingly in the back +rows of the crowd. + +The crowd drew up to the large table, at which sat gray-haired or +bald seventy-year-old magnates, uniformed and besashed almost all of +whom Pierre had seen in their own homes with their buffoons, or +playing boston at the clubs. With an incessant hum of voices the crowd +advanced to the table. Pressed by the throng against the high backs of +the chairs, the orators spoke one after another and sometimes two +together. Those standing behind noticed what a speaker omitted to +say and hastened to supply it. Others in that heat and crush racked +their brains to find some thought and hastened to utter it. The old +magnates, whom Pierre knew, sat and turned to look first at one and +then at another, and their faces for the most part only expressed +the fact that they found it very hot. Pierre, however, felt excited, +and the general desire to show that they were ready to go to all +lengths--which found expression in the tones and looks more than in +the substance of the speeches--infected him too. He did not renounce +his opinions, but felt himself in some way to blame and wished to +justify himself. + +"I only said that it would be more to the purpose to make sacrifices +when we know what is needed!" said he, trying to be heard above the +other voices. + +One of the old men nearest to him looked round, but his attention +was immediately diverted by an exclamation at the other side of the +table. + +"Yes, Moscow will be surrendered! She will be our expiation!" +shouted one man. + +"He is the enemy of mankind!" cried another. "Allow me to speak...." +"Gentlemen, you are crushing me!..." + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +At that moment Count Rostopchin with his protruding chin and alert +eyes, wearing the uniform of a general with sash over his shoulder, +entered the room, stepping briskly to the front of the crowd of +gentry. + +"Our sovereign the Emperor will be here in a moment," said +Rostopchin. "I am straight from the palace. Seeing the position we are +in, I think there is little need for discussion. The Emperor has +deigned to summon us and the merchants. Millions will pour forth +from there"--he pointed to the merchants' hall--"but our business is +to supply men and not spare ourselves... That is the least we can do!" + +A conference took place confined to the magnates sitting at the +table. The whole consultation passed more than quietly. After all +the preceding noise the sound of their old voices saying one after +another, "I agree," or for variety, "I too am of that opinion," and so +on had even a mournful effect. + +The secretary was told to write down the resolution of the Moscow +nobility and gentry, that they would furnish ten men, fully +equipped, out of every thousand serfs, as the Smolensk gentry had +done. Their chairs made a scraping noise as the gentlemen who had +conferred rose with apparent relief, and began walking up and down, +arm in arm, to stretch their legs and converse in couples. + +"The Emperor! The Emperor!" a sudden cry resounded through the halls +and the whole throng hurried to the entrance. + +The Emperor entered the hall through a broad path between two +lines of nobles. Every face expressed respectful, awe-struck +curiosity. Pierre stood rather far off and could not hear all that the +Emperor said. From what he did hear he understood that the Emperor +spoke of the danger threatening the empire and of the hopes he +placed on the Moscow nobility. He was answered by a voice which +informed him of the resolution just arrived at. + +"Gentlemen!" said the Emperor with a quivering voice. + +There was a rustling among the crowd and it again subsided, so +that Pierre distinctly heard the pleasantly human voice of the Emperor +saying with emotion: + +"I never doubted the devotion of the Russian nobles, but today it +has surpassed my expectations. I thank you in the name of the +Fatherland! Gentlemen, let us act! Time is most precious..." + +The Emperor ceased speaking, the crowd began pressing round him, and +rapturous exclamations were heard from all sides. + +"Yes, most precious... a royal word," said Count Rostov, with a sob. +He stood at the back, and, though he had heard hardly anything, +understood everything in his own way. + +From the hall of the nobility the Emperor went to that of the +merchants. There he remained about ten minutes. Pierre was among those +who saw him come out from the merchants' hall with tears of emotion in +his eyes. As became known later, he had scarcely begun to address +the merchants before tears gushed from his eyes and he concluded in +a trembling voice. When Pierre saw the Emperor he was coming out +accompanied by two merchants, one of whom Pierre knew, a fat +otkupshchik. The other was the mayor, a man with a thin sallow face +and narrow beard. Both were weeping. Tears filled the thin man's eyes, +and the fat otkupshchik sobbed outright like a child and kept +repeating: + +"Our lives and property--take them, Your Majesty!" + +Pierre's one feeling at the moment was a desire to show that he +was ready to go all lengths and was prepared to sacrifice +everything. He now felt ashamed of his speech with its +constitutional tendency and sought an opportunity of effacing it. +Having heard that Count Mamonov was furnishing a regiment, Bezukhov at +once informed Rostopchin that he would give a thousand men and their +maintenance. + +Old Rostov could not tell his wife of what had passed without tears, +and at once consented to Petya's request and went himself to enter his +name. + +Next day the Emperor left Moscow. The assembled nobles all took +off their uniforms and settled down again in their homes and clubs, +and not without some groans gave orders to their stewards about the +enrollment, feeling amazed themselves at what they had done. + + + + + +BOOK TEN: 1812 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Napoleon began the war with Russia because he could not resist going +to Dresden, could not help having his head turned by the homage he +received, could not help donning a Polish uniform and yielding to +the stimulating influence of a June morning, and could not refrain +from bursts of anger in the presence of Kurakin and then of Balashev. + +Alexander refused negotiations because he felt himself to be +personally insulted. Barclay de Tolly tried to command the army in the +best way, because he wished to fulfill his duty and earn fame as a +great commander. Rostov charged the French because he could not +restrain his wish for a gallop across a level field; and in the same +way the innumerable people who took part in the war acted in accord +with their personal characteristics, habits, circumstances, and +aims. They were moved by fear or vanity, rejoiced or were indignant, +reasoned, imagining that they knew what they were doing and did it +of their own free will, but they all were involuntary tools of +history, carrying on a work concealed from them but comprehensible +to us. Such is the inevitable fate of men of action, and the higher +they stand in the social hierarchy the less are they free. + +The actors of 1812 have long since left the stage, their personal +interests have vanished leaving no trace, and nothing remains of +that time but its historic results. + +Providence compelled all these men, striving to attain personal +aims, to further the accomplishment of a stupendous result no one of +them at all expected--neither Napoleon, nor Alexander, nor still +less any of those who did the actual fighting. + +The cause of the destruction of the French army in 1812 is clear +to us now. No one will deny that that cause was, on the one hand, +its advance into the heart of Russia late in the season without any +preparation for a winter campaign and, on the other, the character +given to the war by the burning of Russian towns and the hatred of the +foe this aroused among the Russian people. But no one at the time +foresaw (what now seems so evident) that this was the only way an army +of eight hundred thousand men--the best in the world and led by the +best general--could be destroyed in conflict with a raw army of half +its numerical strength, and led by inexperienced commanders as the +Russian army was. Not only did no one see this, but on the Russian +side every effort was made to hinder the only thing that could save +Russia, while on the French side, despite Napoleon's experience and +so-called military genius, every effort was directed to pushing on +to Moscow at the end of the summer, that is, to doing the very thing +that was bound to lead to destruction. + +In historical works on the year 1812 French writers are very fond of +saying that Napoleon felt the danger of extending his line, that he +sought a battle and that his marshals advised him to stop at Smolensk, +and of making similar statements to show that the danger of the +campaign was even then understood. Russian authors are still fonder of +telling us that from the commencement of the campaign a Scythian war +plan was adopted to lure Napoleon into the depths of Russia, and +this plan some of them attribute to Pfuel, others to a certain +Frenchman, others to Toll, and others again to Alexander himself- +pointing to notes, projects, and letters which contain hints of such a +line of action. But all these hints at what happened, both from the +French side and the Russian, are advanced only because they fit in +with the event. Had that event not occurred these hints would have +been forgotten, as we have forgotten the thousands and millions of +hints and expectations to the contrary which were current then but +have now been forgotten because the event falsified them. There are +always so many conjectures as to the issue of any event that however +it may end there will always be people to say: "I said then that it +would be so," quite forgetting that amid their innumerable conjectures +many were to quite the contrary effect. + +Conjectures as to Napoleon's awareness of the danger of extending +his line, and (on the Russian side) as to luring the enemy into the +depths of Russia, are evidently of that kind, and only by much +straining can historians attribute such conceptions to Napoleon and +his marshals, or such plans to the Russian commanders. All the facts +are in flat contradiction to such conjectures. During the whole period +of the war not only was there no wish on the Russian side to draw +the French into the heart of the country, but from their first entry +into Russia everything was done to stop them. And not only was +Napoleon not afraid to extend his line, but he welcomed every step +forward as a triumph and did not seek battle as eagerly as in former +campaigns, but very lazily. + +At the very beginning of the war our armies were divided, and our +sole aim was to unite them, though uniting the armies was no advantage +if we meant to retire and lure the enemy into the depths of the +country. Our Emperor joined the army to encourage it to defend every +inch of Russian soil and not to retreat. The enormous Drissa camp +was formed on Pfuel's plan, and there was no intention of retiring +farther. The Emperor reproached the commanders in chief for every step +they retired. He could not bear the idea of letting the enemy even +reach Smolensk, still less could he contemplate the burning of Moscow, +and when our armies did unite he was displeased that Smolensk was +abandoned and burned without a general engagement having been fought +under its walls. + +So thought the Emperor, and the Russian commanders and people were +still more provoked at the thought that our forces were retreating +into the depths of the country. + +Napoleon having cut our armies apart advanced far into the country +and missed several chances of forcing an engagement. In August he +was at Smolensk and thought only of how to advance farther, though +as we now see that advance was evidently ruinous to him. + +The facts clearly show that Napoleon did not foresee the danger of +the advance on Moscow, nor did Alexander and the Russian commanders +then think of luring Napoleon on, but quite the contrary. The luring +of Napoleon into the depths of the country was not the result of any +plan, for no one believed it to be possible; it resulted from a most +complex interplay of intrigues, aims, and wishes among those who +took part in the war and had no perception whatever of the inevitable, +or of the one way of saving Russia. Everything came about +fortuitously. The armies were divided at the commencement of the +campaign. We tried to unite them, with the evident intention of giving +battle and checking the enemy's advance, and by this effort to unite +them while avoiding battle with a much stronger enemy, and necessarily +withdrawing the armies at an acute angle--we led the French on to +Smolensk. But we withdrew at an acute angle not only because the +French advanced between our two armies; the angle became still more +acute and we withdrew still farther, because Barclay de Tolly was an +unpopular foreigner disliked by Bagration (who would come his +command), and Bagration--being in command of the second army--tried to +postpone joining up and coming under Barclay's command as long as he +could. Bagration was slow in effecting the junction--though that was +the chief aim of all at headquarters--because, as he alleged, he +exposed his army to danger on this march, and it was best for him to +retire more to the left and more to the south, worrying the enemy from +flank and rear and securing from the Ukraine recruits for his army; +and it looks as if he planned this in order not to come under the +command of the detested foreigner Barclay, whose rank was inferior +to his own. + +The Emperor was with the army to encourage it, but his presence +and ignorance of what steps to take, and the enormous number of +advisers and plans, destroyed the first army's energy and it retired. + +The intention was to make a stand at the Drissa camp, but +Paulucci, aiming at becoming commander in chief, unexpectedly employed +his energy to influence Alexander, and Pfuel's whole plan was +abandoned and the command entrusted to Barclay. But as Barclay did not +inspire confidence his power was limited. The armies were divided, +there was no unity of command, and Barclay was unpopular; but from +this confusion, division, and the unpopularity of the foreign +commander in chief, there resulted on the one hand indecision and +the avoidance of a battle (which we could not have refrained from +had the armies been united and had someone else, instead of Barclay, +been in command) and on the other an ever-increasing indignation +against the foreigners and an increase in patriotic zeal. + +At last the Emperor left the army, and as the most convenient and +indeed the only pretext for his departure it was decided that it was +necessary for him to inspire the people in the capitals and arouse the +nation in general to a patriotic war. And by this visit of the Emperor +to Moscow the strength of the Russian army was trebled. + +He left in order not to obstruct the commander in chief's +undivided control of the army, and hoping that more decisive action +would then be taken, but the command of the armies became still more +confused and enfeebled. Bennigsen, the Tsarevich, and a swarm of +adjutants general remained with the army to keep the commander in +chief under observation and arouse his energy, and Barclay, feeling +less free than ever under the observation of all these "eyes of the +Emperor," became still more cautious of undertaking any decisive +action and avoided giving battle. + +Barclay stood for caution. The Tsarevich hinted at treachery and +demanded a general engagement. Lubomirski, Bronnitski, Wlocki, and the +others of that group stirred up so much trouble that Barclay, under +pretext of sending papers to the Emperor, dispatched these Polish +adjutants general to Petersburg and plunged into an open struggle with +Bennigsen and the Tsarevich. + +At Smolensk the armies at last reunited, much as Bagration +disliked it. + +Bagration drove up in a carriage to to the house occupied by +Barclay. Barclay donned his sash and came out to meet and report to +his senior officer Bagration. + +Despite his seniority in rank Bagration, in this contest of +magnanimity, took his orders from Barclay, but, having submitted, +agreed with him less than ever. By the Emperor's orders Bagration +reported direct to him. He wrote to Arakcheev, the Emperor's +confidant: "It must be as my sovereign pleases, but I cannot work with +the Minister (meaning Barclay). For God's sake send me somewhere +else if only in command of a regiment. I cannot stand it here. +Headquarters are so full of Germans that a Russian cannot exist and +there is no sense in anything. I thought I was really serving my +sovereign and the Fatherland, but it turns out that I am serving +Barclay. I confess I do not want to." + +The swarm of Bronnitskis and Wintzingerodes and their like still +further embittered the relations between the commanders in chief, +and even less unity resulted. Preparations were made to fight the +French before Smolensk. A general was sent to survey the position. +This general, hating Barclay, rode to visit a friend of his own, a +corps commander, and, having spent the day with him, returned to +Barclay and condemned, as unsuitable from every point of view, the +battleground he had not seen. + +While disputes and intrigues were going on about the future field of +battle, and while we were looking for the French--having lost touch +with them--the French stumbled upon Neverovski's division and +reached the walls of Smolensk. + +It was necessary to fight an unexpected battle at Smolensk to save +our lines of communication. The battle was fought and thousands were +killed on both sides. + +Smolensk was abandoned contrary to the wishes of the Emperor and +of the whole people. But Smolensk was burned by its own +inhabitants-who had been misled by their governor. And these ruined +inhabitants, setting an example to other Russians, went to Moscow +thinking only of their own losses but kindling hatred of the foe. +Napoleon advanced farther and we retired, thus arriving at the very +result which caused his destruction. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The day after his son had left, Prince Nicholas sent for Princess +Mary to come to his study. + +"Well? Are you satisfied now?" said he. "You've made me quarrel with +my son! Satisfied, are you? That's all you wanted! Satisfied?... It +hurts me, it hurts. I'm old and weak and this is what you wanted. Well +then, gloat over it! Gloat over it!" + +After that Princess Mary did not see her father for a whole week. He +was ill and did not leave his study. + +Princess Mary noticed to her surprise that during this illness the +old prince not only excluded her from his room, but did not admit +Mademoiselle Bourienne either. Tikhon alone attended him. + +At the end of the week the prince reappeared and resumed his +former way of life, devoting himself with special activity to building +operations and the arrangement of the gardens and completely +breaking off his relations with Mademoiselle Bourienne. His looks +and cold tone to his daughter seemed to say: "There, you see? You +plotted against me, you lied to Prince Andrew about my relations +with that Frenchwoman and made me quarrel with him, but you see I need +neither her nor you!" + +Princess Mary spent half of every day with little Nicholas, watching +his lessons, teaching him Russian and music herself, and talking to +Dessalles; the rest of the day she spent over her books, with her +old nurse, or with "God's folk" who sometimes came by the back door to +see her. + +Of the war Princess Mary thought as women do think about wars. She +feared for her brother who was in it, was horrified by and amazed at +the strange cruelty that impels men to kill one another, but she did +not understand the significance of this war, which seemed to her +like all previous wars. She did not realize the significance of this +war, though Dessalles with whom she constantly conversed was +passionately interested in its progress and tried to explain his own +conception of it to her, and though the "God's folk" who came to see +her reported, in their own way, the rumors current among the people of +an invasion by Antichrist, and though Julie (now Princess +Drubetskaya), who had resumed correspondence with her, wrote patriotic +letters from Moscow. + +"I write you in Russian, my good friend," wrote Julie in her +Frenchified Russian, "because I have a detestation for all the French, +and the same for their language which I cannot support to hear +spoken.... We in Moscow are elated by enthusiasm for our adored +Emperor. + +"My poor husband is enduring pains and hunger in Jewish taverns, but +the news which I have inspires me yet more. + +"You heard probably of the heroic exploit of Raevski, embracing +his two sons and saying: 'I will perish with them but we will not be +shaken!' And truly though the enemy was twice stronger than we, we +were unshakable. We pass the time as we can, but in war as in war! The +princesses Aline and Sophie sit whole days with me, and we, unhappy +widows of live men, make beautiful conversations over our charpie, +only you, my friend, are missing..." and so on. + +The chief reason Princess Mary did not realize the full significance +of this war was that the old prince never spoke of it, did not +recognize it, and laughed at Dessalles when he mentioned it at dinner. +The prince's tone was so calm and confident that Princess Mary +unhesitatingly believed him. + +All that July the old prince was exceedingly active and even +animated. He planned another garden and began a new building for the +domestic serfs. The only thing that made Princess Mary anxious about +him was that he slept very little and, instead of sleeping in his +study as usual, changed his sleeping place every day. One day he would +order his camp bed to be set up in the glass gallery, another day he +remained on the couch or on the lounge chair in the drawing room and +dozed there without undressing, while--instead of Mademoiselle +Bourienne--a serf boy read to him. Then again he would spend a night +in the dining room. + +On August 1, a second letter was received from Prince Andrew. In his +first letter which came soon after he had left home, Prince Andrew had +dutifully asked his father's forgiveness for what he had allowed +himself to say and begged to be restored to his favor. To this +letter the old prince had replied affectionately, and from that time +had kept the Frenchwoman at a distance. Prince Andrew's second letter, +written near Vitebsk after the French had occupied that town, gave a +brief account of the whole campaign, enclosed for them a plan he had +drawn and forecasts as to the further progress of the war. In this +letter Prince Andrew pointed out to his father the danger of staying +at Bald Hills, so near the theater of war and on the army's direct +line of march, and advised him to move to Moscow. + +At dinner that day, on Dessalles' mentioning that the French were +said to have already entered Vitebsk, the old prince remembered his +son's letter. + +"There was a letter from Prince Andrew today," he said to Princess +Mary--"Haven't you read it?" + +"No, Father," she replied in a frightened voice. + +She could not have read the letter as she did not even know it had +arrived. + +"He writes about this war," said the prince, with the ironic smile +that had become habitual to him in speaking of the present war. + +"That must be very interesting," said Dessalles. "Prince Andrew is +in a position to know..." + +"Oh, very interesting!" said Mademoiselle Bourienne. + +"Go and get it for me," said the old prince to Mademoiselle +Bourienne. "You know--under the paperweight on the little table." + +Mademoiselle Bourienne jumped up eagerly. + +"No, don't!" he exclaimed with a frown. "You go, Michael Ivanovich." + +Michael Ivanovich rose and went to the study. But as soon as he +had left the room the old prince, looking uneasily round, threw down +his napkin and went himself. + +"They can't do anything... always make some muddle," he muttered. + +While he was away Princess Mary, Dessalles, Mademoiselle +Bourienne, and even little Nicholas exchanged looks in silence. The +old prince returned with quick steps, accompanied by Michael +Ivanovich, bringing the letter and a plan. These he put down beside +him--not letting anyone read them at dinner. + +On moving to the drawing room he handed the letter to Princess +Mary and, spreading out before him the plan of the new building and +fixing his eyes upon it, told her to read the letter aloud. When she +had done so Princess Mary looked inquiringly at her father. He was +examining the plan, evidently engrossed in his own ideas. + +"What do you think of it, Prince?" Dessalles ventured to ask. + +"I? I?..." said the prince as if unpleasantly awakened, and not +taking his eyes from the plan of the building. + +"Very possibly the theater of war will move so near to us that..." + +"Ha ha ha! The theater of war!" said the prince. "I have said and +still say that the theater of war is Poland and the enemy will never +get beyond the Niemen." + +Dessalles looked in amazement at the prince, who was talking of +the Niemen when the enemy was already at the Dnieper, but Princess +Mary, forgetting the geographical position of the Niemen, thought that +what her father was saying was correct. + +"When the snow melts they'll sink in the Polish swamps. Only they +could fail to see it," the prince continued, evidently thinking of the +campaign of 1807 which seemed to him so recent. "Bennigsen should have +advanced into Prussia sooner, then things would have taken a different +turn..." + +"But, Prince," Dessalles began timidly, "the letter mentions +Vitebsk...." + +"Ah, the letter? Yes..." replied the prince peevishly. "Yes... +yes..." His face suddenly took on a morose expression. He paused. +"Yes, he writes that the French were beaten at... at... what river +is it?" + +Dessalles dropped his eyes. + +"The prince says nothing about that," he remarked gently. + +"Doesn't he? But I didn't invent it myself." + +No one spoke for a long time. + +"Yes... yes... Well, Michael Ivanovich," he suddenly went on, +raising his head and pointing to the plan of the building, "tell me +how you mean to alter it...." + +Michael Ivanovich went up to the plan, and the prince after speaking +to him about the building looked angrily at Princess Mary and +Dessalles and went to his own room. + +Princess Mary saw Dessalles' embarrassed and astonished look fixed +on her father, noticed his silence, and was struck by the fact that +her father had forgotten his son's letter on the drawing-room table; +but she was not only afraid to speak of it and ask Dessalles the +reason of his confusion and silence, but was afraid even to think +about it. + +In the evening Michael Ivanovich, sent by the prince, came to +Princess Mary for Prince Andrew's letter which had been forgotten in +the drawing room. She gave it to him and, unpleasant as it was to +her to do so, ventured to ask him what her father was doing. + +"Always busy," replied Michael Ivanovich with a respectfully +ironic smile which caused Princess Mary to turn pale. "He's worrying +very much about the new building. He has been reading a little, but +now"--Michael Ivanovich went on, lowering his voice--"now he's at +his desk, busy with his will, I expect." (One of the prince's favorite +occupations of late had been the preparation of some papers he meant +to leave at his death and which he called his "will.") + +"And Alpatych is being sent to Smolensk?" asked Princess Mary. + +"Oh, yes, he has been waiting to start for some time." + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +When Michael Ivanovich returned to the study with the letter, the +old prince, with spectacles on and a shade over his eyes, was +sitting at his open bureau with screened candles, holding a paper in +his outstretched hand, and in a somewhat dramatic attitude was reading +his manuscript--his "Remarks" as he termed it--which was to be +transmitted to the Emperor after his death. + +When Michael Ivanovich went in there were tears in the prince's eyes +evoked by the memory of the time when the paper he was now reading had +been written. He took the letter from Michael Ivanovich's hand, put it +in his pocket, folded up his papers, and called in Alpatych who had +long been waiting. + +The prince had a list of things to be bought in Smolensk and, +walking up and down the room past Alpatych who stood by the door, he +gave his instructions. + +"First, notepaper--do you hear? Eight quires, like this sample, +gilt-edged... it must be exactly like the sample. Varnish, sealing +wax, as in Michael Ivanovich's list." + +He paced up and down for a while and glanced at his notes. + +"Then hand to the governor in person a letter about the deed." + +Next, bolts for the doors of the new building were wanted and had to +be of a special shape the prince had himself designed, and a leather +case had to be ordered to keep the "will" in. + +The instructions to Alpatych took over two hours and still the +prince did not let him go. He sat down, sank into thought, closed +his eyes, and dozed off. Alpatych made a slight movement. + +"Well, go, go! If anything more is wanted I'll send after you." + +Alpatych went out. The prince again went to his bureau, glanced into +it, fingered his papers, closed the bureau again, and sat down at +the table to write to the governor. + +It was already late when he rose after sealing the letter. He wished +to sleep, but he knew he would not be able to and that most depressing +thoughts came to him in bed. So he called Tikhon and went through +the rooms with him to show him where to set up the bed for that night. + +He went about looking at every corner. Every place seemed +unsatisfactory, but worst of all was his customary couch in the study. +That couch was dreadful to him, probably because of the oppressive +thoughts he had had when lying there. It was unsatisfactory +everywhere, but the corner behind the piano in the sitting room was +better than other places: he had never slept there yet. + +With the help of a footman Tikhon brought in the bedstead and +began putting it up. + +"That's not right! That's not right!" cried the prince, and +himself pushed it a few inches from the corner and then closer in +again. + +"Well, at last I've finished, now I'll rest," thought the prince, +and let Tikhon undress him. + +Frowning with vexation at the effort necessary to divest himself +of his coat and trousers, the prince undressed, sat down heavily on +the bed, and appeared to be meditating as he looked contemptuously +at his withered yellow legs. He was not meditating, but only deferring +the moment of making the effort to lift those legs up and turn over on +the bed. "Ugh, how hard it is! Oh, that this toil might end and you +would release me!" thought he. Pressing his lips together he made that +effort for the twenty-thousandth time and lay down. But hardly had +he done so before he felt the bed rocking backwards and forwards +beneath him as if it were breathing heavily and jolting. This happened +to him almost every night. He opened his eyes as they were closing. + +"No peace, damn them!" he muttered, angry he knew not with whom. "Ah +yes, there was something else important, very important, that I was +keeping till I should be in bed. The bolts? No, I told him about them. +No, it was something, something in the drawing room. Princess Mary +talked some nonsense. Dessalles, that fool, said something. +Something in my pocket--can't remember..." + +"Tikhon, what did we talk about at dinner?" + +"About Prince Michael..." + +"Be quiet, quiet!" The prince slapped his hand on the table. "Yes, I +know, Prince Andrew's letter! Princess Mary read it. Dessalles said +something about Vitebsk. Now I'll read it." + +He had the letter taken from his pocket and the table--on which +stood a glass of lemonade and a spiral wax candle--moved close to +the bed, and putting on his spectacles he began reading. Only now in +the stillness of the night, reading it by the faint light under the +green shade, did he grasp its meaning for a moment. + +"The French at Vitebsk, in four days' march they may be at Smolensk; +perhaps are already there! Tikhon!" Tikhon jumped up. "No, no, I don't +want anything!" he shouted. + +He put the letter under the candlestick and closed his eyes. And +there rose before him the Danube at bright noonday: reeds, the Russian +camp, and himself a young general without a wrinkle on his ruddy face, +vigorous and alert, entering Potemkin's gaily colored tent, and a +burning sense of jealousy of "the favorite" agitated him now as +strongly as it had done then. He recalled all the words spoken at that +first meeting with Potemkin. And he saw before him a plump, rather +sallow-faced, short, stout woman, the Empress Mother, with her smile +and her words at her first gracious reception of him, and then that +same face on the catafalque, and the encounter he had with Zubov +over her coffin about his right to kiss her hand. + +"Oh, quicker, quicker! To get back to that time and have done with +all the present! Quicker, quicker--and that they should leave me in +peace!" + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Bald Hills, Prince Nicholas Bolkonski's estate, lay forty miles east +from Smolensk and two miles from the main road to Moscow. + +The same evening that the prince gave his instructions to +Alpatych, Dessalles, having asked to see Princess Mary, told her that, +as the prince was not very well and was taking no steps to secure +his safety, though from Prince Andrew's letter it was evident that +to remain at Bald Hills might be dangerous, he respectfully advised +her to send a letter by Alpatych to the Provincial Governor at +Smolensk, asking him to let her know the state of affairs and the +extent of the danger to which Bald Hills was exposed. Dessalles +wrote this letter to the Governor for Princess Mary, she signed it, +and it was given to Alpatych with instructions to hand it to the +Governor and to come back as quickly as possible if there was danger. + +Having received all his orders Alpatych, wearing a white beaver hat- +a present from the prince--and carrying a stick as the prince did, +went out accompanied by his family. Three well-fed roans stood ready +harnessed to a small conveyance with a leather hood. + +The larger bell was muffled and the little bells on the harness +stuffed with paper. The prince allowed no one at Bald Hills to drive +with ringing bells; but on a long journey Alpatych liked to have them. +His satellites--the senior clerk, a countinghouse clerk, a scullery +maid, a cook, two old women, a little pageboy, the coachman, and +various domestic serfs--were seeing him off. + +His daughter placed chintz-covered down cushions for him to sit on +and behind his back. His old sister-in-law popped in a small bundle, +and one of the coachmen helped him into the vehicle. + +"There! There! Women's fuss! Women, women!" said Alpatych, puffing +and speaking rapidly just as the prince did, and he climbed into the +trap. + +After giving the clerk orders about the work to be done, Alpatych, +not trying to imitate the prince now, lifted the hat from his bald +head and crossed himself three times. + +"If there is anything... come back, Yakov Alpatych! For Christ's +sake think of us!" cried his wife, referring to the rumors of war +and the enemy. + +"Women, women! Women's fuss!" muttered Alpatych to himself and +started on his journey, looking round at the fields of yellow rye +and the still-green, thickly growing oats, and at other quite black +fields just being plowed a second time. + +As he went along he looked with pleasure at the year's splendid crop +of corn, scrutinized the strips of ryefield which here and there +were already being reaped, made his calculations as to the sowing +and the harvest, and asked himself whether he had not forgotten any of +the prince's orders. + +Having baited the horses twice on the way, he arrived at the town +toward evening on the fourth of August. + +Alpatych kept meeting and overtaking baggage trains and troops on +the road. As he approached Smolensk he heard the sounds of distant +firing, but these did not impress him. What struck him most was the +sight of a splendid field of oats in which a camp had been pitched and +which was being mown down by the soldiers, evidently for fodder. +This fact impressed Alpatych, but in thinking about his own business +he soon forgot it. + +All the interests of his life for more than thirty years had been +bounded by the will of the prince, and he never went beyond that +limit. Everything not connected with the execution of the prince's +orders did not interest and did not even exist for Alpatych. + +On reaching Smolensk on the evening of the fourth of August he put +up in the Gachina suburb across the Dnieper, at the inn kept by +Ferapontov, where he had been in the habit of putting up for the +last thirty years. Some thirty years ago Ferapontov, by Alpatych's +advice, had bought a wood from the prince, had begun to trade, and now +had a house, an inn, and a corn dealer's shop in that province. He was +a stout, dark, red-faced peasant in the forties, with thick lips, a +broad knob of a nose, similar knobs over his black frowning brows, and +a round belly. + +Wearing a waistcoat over his cotton shirt, Ferapontov was standing +before his shop which opened onto the street. On seeing Alpatych he +went up to him. + +"You're welcome, Yakov Alpatych. Folks are leaving the town, but you +have come to it," said he. + +"Why are they leaving the town?" asked Alpatych. + +"That's what I say. Folks are foolish! Always afraid of the French." + +"Women's fuss, women's fuss!" said Alpatych. + +"Just what I think, Yakov Alpatych. What I say is: orders have +been given not to let them in, so that must be right. And the peasants +are asking three rubles for carting--it isn't Christian!" + +Yakov Alpatych heard without heeding. He asked for a samovar and for +hay for his horses, and when he had had his tea he went to bed. + +All night long troops were moving past the inn. Next morning +Alpatych donned a jacket he wore only in town and went out on +business. It was a sunny morning and by eight o'clock it was already +hot. "A good day for harvesting," thought Alpatych. + +From beyond the town firing had been heard since early morning. At +eight o'clock the booming of cannon was added to the sound of +musketry. Many people were hurrying through the streets and there were +many soldiers, but cabs were still driving about, tradesmen stood at +their shops, and service was being held in the churches as usual. +Alpatych went to the shops, to government offices, to the post office, +and to the Governor's. In the offices and shops and at the post office +everyone was talking about the army and about the enemy who was +already attacking the town, everybody was asking what should be +done, and all were trying to calm one another. + +In front of the Governor's house Alpatych found a large number of +people, Cossacks, and a traveling carriage of the Governor's. At the +porch he met two of the landed gentry, one of whom he knew. This +man, an ex-captain of police, was saying angrily: + +"It's no joke, you know! It's all very well if you're single. 'One +man though undone is but one,' as the proverb says, but with +thirteen in your family and all the property... They've brought us +to utter ruin! What sort of governors are they to do that? They +ought to be hanged--the brigands!..." + +"Oh come, that's enough!" said the other. + +"What do I care? Let him hear! We're not dogs," said the +ex-captain of police, and looking round he noticed Alpatych. + +"Oh, Yakov Alpatych! What have you come for?" + +"To see the Governor by his excellency's order," answered +Alpatych, lifting his head and proudly thrusting his hand into the +bosom of his coat as he always did when he mentioned the prince.... +"He has ordered me to inquire into the position of affairs," he added. + +"Yes, go and find out!" shouted the angry gentleman. "They've +brought things to such a pass that there are no carts or +anything!... There it is again, do you hear?" said he, pointing +in the direction whence came the sounds of firing. + +"They've brought us all to ruin... the brigands!" he repeated, and +descended the porch steps. + +Alpatych swayed his head and went upstairs. In the waiting room were +tradesmen, women, and officials, looking silently at one another. +The door of the Governor's room opened and they all rose and moved +forward. An official ran out, said some words to a merchant, called +a stout official with a cross hanging on his neck to follow him, and +vanished again, evidently wishing to avoid the inquiring looks and +questions addressed to him. Alpatych moved forward and next time the +official came out addressed him, one hand placed in the breast of +his buttoned coat, and handed him two letters. + +"To his Honor Baron Asch, from General-in-Chief Prince Bolkonski," +he announced with such solemnity and significance that the official +turned to him and took the letters. + +A few minutes later the Governor received Alpatych and hurriedly +said to him: + +"Inform the prince and princess that I knew nothing: I acted on +the highest instructions--here..." and he handed a paper to +Alpatych. "Still, as the prince is unwell my advice is that they +should go to Moscow. I am just starting myself. Inform them..." + +But the Governor did not finish: a dusty perspiring officer ran into +the room and began to say something in French. The Governor's face +expressed terror. + +"Go," he said, nodding his head to Alpatych, and began questioning +the officer. + +Eager, frightened, helpless glances were turned on Alpatych when +he came out of the Governor's room. Involuntarily listening now to the +firing, which had drawn nearer and was increasing in strength, +Alpatych hurried to his inn. The paper handed to him by the Governor +said this: + + +"I assure you that the town of Smolensk is not in the slightest +danger as yet and it is unlikely that it will be threatened with +any. I from the one side and Prince Bagration from the other are +marching to unite our forces before Smolensk, which junction will be +effected on the 22nd instant, and both armies with their united forces +will defend our compatriots of the province entrusted to your care +till our efforts shall have beaten back the enemies of our Fatherland, +or till the last warrior in our valiant ranks has perished. From +this you will see that you have a perfect right to reassure the +inhabitants of Smolensk, for those defended by two such brave armies +may feel assured of victory." (Instructions from Barclay de Tolly to +Baron Asch, the civil governor of Smolensk, 1812.) + + +People were anxiously roaming about the streets. + +Carts piled high with household utensils, chairs, and cupboards kept +emerging from the gates of the yards and moving along the streets. +Loaded carts stood at the house next to Ferapontov's and women were +wailing and lamenting as they said good-by. A small watchdog ran round +barking in front of the harnessed horses. + +Alpatych entered the innyard at a quicker pace than usual and went +straight to the shed where his horses and trap were. The coachman +was asleep. He woke him up, told him to harness, and went into the +passage. From the host's room came the sounds of a child crying, the +despairing sobs of a woman, and the hoarse angry shouting of +Ferapontov. The cook began running hither and thither in the passage +like a frightened hen, just as Alpatych entered. + +"He's done her to death. Killed the mistress!... Beat her... dragged +her about so!..." + +"What for?" asked Alpatych. + +"She kept begging to go away. She's a woman! 'Take me away,' says +she, 'don't let me perish with my little children! Folks,' she says, +'are all gone, so why,' she says, 'don't we go?' And he began +beating and pulling her about so!" + +At these words Alpatych nodded as if in approval, and not wishing to +hear more went to the door of the room opposite the innkeeper's, where +he had left his purchases. + +"You brute, you murderer!" screamed a thin, pale woman who, with a +baby in her arms and her kerchief torn from her head, burst through +the door at that moment and down the steps into the yard. + +Ferapontov came out after her, but on seeing Alpatych adjusted his +waistcoat, smoothed his hair, yawned, and followed Alpatych into the +opposite room. + +"Going already?" said he. + +Alpatych, without answering or looking at his host, sorted his +packages and asked how much he owed. + +"We'll reckon up! Well, have you been to the Governor's?" asked +Ferapontov. "What has been decided?" + +Alpatych replied that the Governor had not told him anything +definite. + +"With our business, how can we get away?" said Ferapontov. "We'd +have to pay seven rubles a cartload to Dorogobuzh and I tell them +they're not Christians to ask it! Selivanov, now, did a good stroke +last Thursday--sold flour to the army at nine rubles a sack. Will +you have some tea?" he added. + +While the horses were being harnessed Alpatych and Ferapontov over +their tea talked of the price of corn, the crops, and the good weather +for harvesting. + +"Well, it seems to be getting quieter," remarked Ferapontov, +finishing his third cup of tea and getting up. "Ours must have got the +best of it. The orders were not to let them in. So we're in force, +it seems.... They say the other day Matthew Ivanych Platov drove +them into the river Marina and drowned some eighteen thousand in one +day." + +Alpatych collected his parcels, handed them to the coachman who +had come in, and settled up with the innkeeper. The noise of wheels, +hoofs, and bells was heard from the gateway as a little trap passed +out. + +It was by now late in the afternoon. Half the street was in +shadow, the other half brightly lit by the sun. Alpatych looked out of +the window and went to the door. Suddenly the strange sound of a +far-off whistling and thud was heard, followed by a boom of cannon +blending into a dull roar that set the windows rattling. + +He went out into the street: two men were running past toward the +bridge. From different sides came whistling sounds and the thud of +cannon balls and bursting shells falling on the town. But these sounds +were hardly heard in comparison with the noise of the firing outside +the town and attracted little attention from the inhabitants. The town +was being bombarded by a hundred and thirty guns which Napoleon had +ordered up after four o'clock. The people did not at once realize +the meaning of this bombardment. + +At first the noise of the falling bombs and shells only aroused +curiosity. Ferapontov's wife, who till then had not ceased wailing +under the shed, became quiet and with the baby in her arms went to the +gate, listening to the sounds and looking in silence at the people. + +The cook and a shop assistant came to the gate. With lively +curiosity everyone tried to get a glimpse of the projectiles as they +flew over their heads. Several people came round the corner talking +eagerly. + +"What force!" remarked one. "Knocked the roof and ceiling all to +splinters!" + +"Routed up the earth like a pig," said another. + +"That's grand, it bucks one up!" laughed the first. "Lucky you +jumped aside, or it would have wiped you out!" + +Others joined those men and stopped and told how cannon balls had +fallen on a house close to them. Meanwhile still more projectiles, now +with the swift sinister whistle of a cannon ball, now with the +agreeable intermittent whistle of a shell, flew over people's heads +incessantly, but not one fell close by, they all flew over. Alpatych +was getting into his trap. The innkeeper stood at the gate. + +"What are you staring at?" he shouted to the cook, who in her red +skirt, with sleeves rolled up, swinging her bare elbows, had stepped +to the corner to listen to what was being said. + +"What marvels!" she exclaimed, but hearing her master's voice she +turned back, pulling down her tucked-up skirt. + +Once more something whistled, but this time quite close, swooping +downwards like a little bird; a flame flashed in the middle of the +street, something exploded, and the street was shrouded in smoke. + +"Scoundrel, what are you doing?" shouted the innkeeper, rushing to +the cook. + +At that moment the pitiful wailing of women was heard from different +sides, the frightened baby began to cry, and people crowded silently +with pale faces round the cook. The loudest sound in that crowd was +her wailing. + +"Oh-h-h! Dear souls, dear kind souls! Don't let me die! My good +souls!..." + +Five minutes later no one remained in the street. The cook, with her +thigh broken by a shell splinter, had been carried into the kitchen. +Alpatych, his coachman, Ferapontov's wife and children and the house +porter were all sitting in the cellar, listening. The roar of guns, +the whistling of projectiles, and the piteous moaning of the cook, +which rose above the other sounds, did not cease for a moment. The +mistress rocked and hushed her baby and when anyone came into the +cellar asked in a pathetic whisper what had become of her husband +who had remained in the street. A shopman who entered told her that +her husband had gone with others to the cathedral, whence they were +fetching the wonder-working icon of Smolensk. + +Toward dusk the cannonade began to subside. Alpatych left the cellar +and stopped in the doorway. The evening sky that had been so clear was +clouded with smoke, through which, high up, the sickle of the new moon +shone strangely. Now that the terrible din of the guns had ceased a +hush seemed to reign over the town, broken only by the rustle of +footsteps, the moaning, the distant cries, and the crackle of fires +which seemed widespread everywhere. The cook's moans had now subsided. +On two sides black curling clouds of smoke rose and spread from the +fires. Through the streets soldiers in various uniforms walked or +ran confusedly in different directions like ants from a ruined +ant-hill. Several of them ran into Ferapontov's yard before Alpatych's +eyes. Alpatych went out to the gate. A retreating regiment, +thronging and hurrying, blocked the street. + +Noticing him, an officer said: "The town is being abandoned. Get +away, get away!" and then, turning to the soldiers, shouted: + +"I'll teach you to run into the yards!" + +Alpatych went back to the house, called the coachman, and told him +to set off. Ferapontov's whole household came out too, following +Alpatych and the coachman. The women, who had been silent till then, +suddenly began to wail as they looked at the fires--the smoke and even +the flames of which could be seen in the failing twilight--and as if +in reply the same kind of lamentation was heard from other parts of +the street. Inside the shed Alpatych and the coachman arranged the +tangled reins and traces of their horses with trembling hands. + +As Alpatych was driving out of the gate he saw some ten soldiers +in Ferapontov's open shop, talking loudly and filling their bags and +knapsacks with flour and sunflower seeds. Just then Ferapontov +returned and entered his shop. On seeing the soldiers he was about +to shout at them, but suddenly stopped and, clutching at his hair, +burst into sobs and laughter: + +"Loot everything, lads! Don't let those devils get it!" he cried, +taking some bags of flour himself and throwing them into the street. + +Some of the soldiers were frightened and ran away, others went on +filling their bags. On seeing Alpatych, Ferapontov turned to him: + +"Russia is done for!" he cried. "Alpatych, I'll set the place on +fire myself. We're done for!..." and Ferapontov ran into the yard. + +Soldiers were passing in a constant stream along the street blocking +it completely, so that Alpatych could not pass out and had to wait. +Ferapontov's wife and children were also sitting in a cart waiting +till it was possible to drive out. + +Night had come. There were stars in the sky and the new moon shone +out amid the smoke that screened it. On the sloping descent to the +Dnieper Alpatych's cart and that of the innkeeper's wife, which were +slowly moving amid the rows of soldiers and of other vehicles, had +to stop. In a side street near the crossroads where the vehicles had +stopped, a house and some shops were on fire. This fire was already +burning itself out. The flames now died down and were lost in the +black smoke, now suddenly flared up again brightly, lighting up with +strange distinctness the faces of the people crowding at the +crossroads. Black figures flitted about before the fire, and through +the incessant crackling of the flames talking and shouting could be +heard. Seeing that his trap would not be able to move on for some +time, Alpatych got down and turned into the side street to look at the +fire. Soldiers were continually rushing backwards and forwards near +it, and he saw two of them and a man in a frieze coat dragging burning +beams into another yard across the street, while others carried +bundles of hay. + +Alpatych went up to a large crowd standing before a high barn +which was blazing briskly. The walls were all on fire and the back +wall had fallen in, the wooden roof was collapsing, and the rafters +were alight. The crowd was evidently watching for the roof to fall in, +and Alpatych watched for it too. + +"Alpatych!" a familiar voice suddenly hailed the old man. + +"Mercy on us! Your excellency!" answered Alpatych, immediately +recognizing the voice of his young prince. + +Prince Andrew in his riding cloak, mounted on a black horse, was +looking at Alpatych from the back of the crowd. + +"Why are you here?" he asked. + +"Your... your excellency," stammered Alpatych and broke into sobs. +"Are we really lost? Master!..." + +"Why are you here?" Prince Andrew repeated. + +At that moment the flames flared up and showed his young master's +pale worn face. Alpatych told how he had been sent there and how +difficult it was to get away. + +"Are we really quite lost, your excellency?" he asked again. + +Prince Andrew without replying took out a notebook and raising his +knee began writing in pencil on a page he tore out. He wrote to his +sister: + + +"Smolensk is being abandoned. Bald Hills will be occupied by the +enemy within a week. Set off immediately for Moscow. Let me know at +once when you will start. Send by special messenger to Usvyazh." + + +Having written this and given the paper to Alpatych, he told him how +to arrange for departure of the prince, the princess, his son, and the +boy's tutor, and how and where to let him know immediately. Before +he had had time to finish giving these instructions, a chief of +staff followed by a suite galloped up to him. + +"You are a colonel?" shouted the chief of staff with a German +accent, in a voice familiar to Prince Andrew. "Houses are set on +fire in your presence and you stand by! What does this mean? You +will answer for it!" shouted Berg, who was now assistant to the +chief of staff of the commander of the left flank of the infantry of +the first army, a place, as Berg said, "very agreeable and well en +evidence." + +Prince Andrew looked at him and without replying went on speaking to +Alpatych. + +"So tell them that I shall await a reply till the tenth, and if by +the tenth I don't receive news that they have all got away I shall +have to throw up everything and come myself to Bald Hills." + +"Prince," said Berg, recognizing Prince Andrew, "I only spoke +because I have to obey orders, because I always do obey exactly.... +You must please excuse me," he went on apologetically. + +Something cracked in the flames. The fire died down for a moment and +wreaths of black smoke rolled from under the roof. There was another +terrible crash and something huge collapsed. + +"Ou-rou-rou!" yelled the crowd, echoing the crash of the +collapsing roof of the barn, the burning grain in which diffused a +cakelike aroma all around. The flames flared up again, lighting the +animated, delighted, exhausted faces of the spectators. + +The man in the frieze coat raised his arms and shouted: + +"It's fine, lads! Now it's raging... It's fine!" + +"That's the owner himself," cried several voices. + +"Well then," continued Prince Andrew to Alpatych, "report to them as +I have told you"; and not replying a word to Berg who was now mute +beside him, he touched his horse and rode down the side street. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +From Smolensk the troops continued to retreat, followed by the +enemy. On the tenth of August the regiment Prince Andrew commanded was +marching along the highroad past the avenue leading to Bald Hills. +Heat and drought had continued for more than three weeks. Each day +fleecy clouds floated across the sky and occasionally veiled the +sun, but toward evening the sky cleared again and the sun set in +reddish-brown mist. Heavy night dews alone refreshed the earth. The +unreaped corn was scorched and shed its grain. The marshes dried up. +The cattle lowed from hunger, finding no food on the sun-parched +meadows. Only at night and in the forests while the dew lasted was +there any freshness. But on the road, the highroad along which the +troops marched, there was no such freshness even at night or when +the road passed through the forest; the dew was imperceptible on the +sandy dust churned up more than six inches deep. As soon as day dawned +the march began. The artillery and baggage wagons moved noiselessly +through the deep dust that rose to the very hubs of the wheels, and +the infantry sank ankle-deep in that soft, choking, hot dust that +never cooled even at night. Some of this dust was kneaded by the +feet and wheels, while the rest rose and hung like a cloud over the +troops, settling in eyes, ears, hair, and nostrils, and worst of all +in the lungs of the men and beasts as they moved along that road. +The higher the sun rose the higher rose that cloud of dust, and +through the screen of its hot fine particles one could look with naked +eye at the sun, which showed like a huge crimson ball in the unclouded +sky. There was no wind, and the men choked in that motionless +atmosphere. They marched with handkerchiefs tied over their noses +and mouths. When they passed through a village they all rushed to +the wells and fought for the water and drank it down to the mud. + +Prince Andrew was in command of a regiment, and the management of +that regiment, the welfare of the men and the necessity of receiving +and giving orders, engrossed him. The burning of Smolensk and its +abandonment made an epoch in his life. A novel feeling of anger +against the foe made him forget his own sorrow. He was entirely +devoted to the affairs of his regiment and was considerate and kind to +his men and officers. In the regiment they called him "our prince," +were proud of him and loved him. But he was kind and gentle only to +those of his regiment, to Timokhin and the like--people quite new to +him, belonging to a different world and who could not know and +understand his past. As soon as he came across a former acquaintance +or anyone from the staff, he bristled up immediately and grew +spiteful, ironical, and contemptuous. Everything that reminded him +of his past was repugnant to him, and so in his relations with that +former circle he confined himself to trying to do his duty and not +to be unfair. + +In truth everything presented itself in a dark and gloomy light to +Prince Andrew, especially after the abandonment of Smolensk on the +sixth of August (he considered that it could and should have been +defended) and after his sick father had had to flee to Moscow, +abandoning to pillage his dearly beloved Bald Hills which he had built +and peopled. But despite this, thanks to his regiment, Prince Andrew +had something to think about entirely apart from general questions. +Two days previously he had received news that his father, son, and +sister had left for Moscow; and though there was nothing for him to do +at Bald Hills, Prince Andrew with a characteristic desire to foment +his own grief decided that he must ride there. + +He ordered his horse to be saddled and, leaving his regiment on +the march, rode to his father's estate where he had been born and +spent his childhood. Riding past the pond where there used always to +be dozens of women chattering as they rinsed their linen or beat it +with wooden beetles, Prince Andrew noticed that there was not a soul +about and that the little washing wharf, torn from its place and +half submerged, was floating on its side in the middle of the pond. He +rode to the keeper's lodge. No one at the stone entrance gates of +the drive and the door stood open. Grass had already begun to grow +on the garden paths, and horses and calves were straying in the +English park. Prince Andrew rode up to the hothouse; some of the glass +panes were broken, and of the trees in tubs some were overturned and +others dried up. He called for Taras the gardener, but no one replied. +Having gone round the corner of the hothouse to the ornamental garden, +he saw that the carved garden fence was broken and branches of the +plum trees had been torn off with the fruit. An old peasant whom +Prince Andrew in his childhood had often seen at the gate was +sitting on a green garden seat, plaiting a bast shoe. + +He was deaf and did not hear Prince Andrew ride up. He was sitting +on the seat the old prince used to like to sit on, and beside him +strips of bast were hanging on the broken and withered branch of a +magnolia. + +Prince Andrew rode up to the house. Several limes in the old +garden had been cut down and a piebald mare and her foal were +wandering in front of the house among the rosebushes. The shutters +were all closed, except at one window which was open. A little serf +boy, seeing Prince Andrew, ran into the house. Alpatych, having sent +his family away, was alone at Bald Hills and was sitting indoors +reading the Lives of the Saints. On hearing that Prince Andrew had +come, he went out with his spectacles on his nose, buttoning his coat, +and, hastily stepping up, without a word began weeping and kissing +Prince Andrew's knee. + +Then, vexed at his own weakness, he turned away and began to +report on the position of affairs. Everything precious and valuable +had been removed to Bogucharovo. Seventy quarters of grain had also +been carted away. The hay and the spring corn, of which Alpatych +said there had been a remarkable crop that year, had been commandeered +by the troops and mown down while still green. The peasants were +ruined; some of them too had gone to Bogucharovo, only a few remained. + +Without waiting to hear him out, Prince Andrew asked: + +"When did my father and sister leave?" meaning when did they leave +for Moscow. + +Alpatych, understanding the question to refer to their departure for +Bogucharovo, replied that they had left on the seventh and again +went into details concerning the estate management, asking for +instructions. + +"Am I to let the troops have the oats, and to take a receipt for +them? We have still six hundred quarters left," he inquired. + +"What am I to say to him?" thought Prince Andrew, looking down on +the old man's bald head shining in the sun and seeing by the +expression on his face that the old man himself understood how +untimely such questions were and only asked them to allay his grief. + +"Yes, let them have it," replied Prince Andrew. + +"If you noticed some disorder in the garden," said Alpatych, "it was +impossible to prevent it. Three regiments have been here and spent the +night, dragoons mostly. I took down the name and rank of their +commanding officer, to hand in a complaint about it." + +"Well, and what are you going to do? Will you stay here if the enemy +occupies the place?" asked Prince Andrew. + +Alpatych turned his face to Prince Andrew, looked at him, and +suddenly with a solemn gesture raised his arm. + +"He is my refuge! His will be done!" he exclaimed. + +A group of bareheaded peasants was approaching across the meadow +toward the prince. + +"Well, good-by!" said Prince Andrew, bending over to Alpatych. +"You must go away too, take away what you can and tell the serfs to go +to the Ryazan estate or to the one near Moscow." + +Alpatych clung to Prince Andrew's leg and burst into sobs. Gently +disengaging himself, the prince spurred his horse and rode down the +avenue at a gallop. + +The old man was still sitting in the ornamental garden, like a fly +impassive on the face of a loved one who is dead, tapping the last +on which he was making the bast shoe, and two little girls, running +out from the hot house carrying in their skirts plums they had plucked +from the trees there, came upon Prince Andrew. On seeing the young +master, the elder one frightened look clutched her younger companion +by the hand and hid with her behind a birch tree, not stopping to pick +up some green plums they had dropped. + +Prince Andrew turned away with startled haste, unwilling to let them +see that they had been observed. He was sorry for the pretty +frightened little girl, was afraid of looking at her, and yet felt +an irresistible desire to do so. A new sensation of comfort and relief +came over him when, seeing these girls, he realized the existence of +other human interests entirely aloof from his own and just as +legitimate as those that occupied him. Evidently these girls +passionately desired one thing--to carry away and eat those green +plums without being caught--and Prince Andrew shared their wish for +the success of their enterprise. He could not resist looking at them +once more. Believing their danger past, they sprang from their +ambush and, chirruping something in their shrill little voices and +holding up their skirts, their bare little sunburned feet scampered +merrily and quickly across the meadow grass. + +Prince Andrew was somewhat refreshed by having ridden off the +dusty highroad along which the troops were moving. But not far from +Bald Hills he again came out on the road and overtook his regiment +at its halting place by the dam of a small pond. It was past one +o'clock. The sun, a red ball through the dust, burned and scorched his +back intolerably through his black coat. The dust always hung +motionless above the buzz of talk that came from the resting troops. +There was no wind. As he crossed the dam Prince Andrew smelled the +ooze and freshness of the pond. He longed to get into that water, +however dirty it might be, and he glanced round at the pool from +whence came sounds of shrieks and laughter. The small, muddy, green +pond had risen visibly more than a foot, flooding the dam, because +it was full of the naked white bodies of soldiers with brick-red +hands, necks, and faces, who were splashing about in it. All this +naked white human flesh, laughing and shrieking, floundered about in +that dirty pool like carp stuffed into a watering can, and the +suggestion of merriment in that floundering mass rendered it specially +pathetic. + +One fair-haired young soldier of the third company, whom Prince +Andrew knew and who had a strap round the calf of one leg, crossed +himself, stepped back to get a good run, and plunged into the water; +another, a dark noncommissioned officer who was always shaggy, stood +up to his waist in the water joyfully wriggling his muscular figure +and snorted with satisfaction as he poured the water over his head +with hands blackened to the wrists. There were sounds of men +slapping one another, yelling, and puffing. + +Everywhere on the bank, on the dam, and in the pond, there was +healthy, white, muscular flesh. The officer, Timokhin, with his red +little nose, standing on the dam wiping himself with a towel, felt +confused at seeing the prince, but made up his mind to address him +nevertheless. + +"It's very nice, your excellency! Wouldn't you like to?" said he. + +"It's dirty," replied Prince Andrew, making a grimace. + +"We'll clear it out for you in a minute," said Timokhin, and, +still undressed, ran off to clear the men out of the pond. + +"The prince wants to bathe." + +"What prince? Ours?" said many voices, and the men were in such +haste to clear out that the prince could hardly stop them. He +decided that he would rather wash himself with water in the barn. + +"Flesh, bodies, cannon fodder!" he thought, and he looked at his own +naked body and shuddered, not from cold but from a sense of disgust +and horror he did not himself understand, aroused by the sight of that +immense number of bodies splashing about in the dirty pond. + + +On the seventh of August Prince Bagration wrote as follows from +his quarters at Mikhaylovna on the Smolensk road: + + +Dear Count Alexis Andreevich--(He was writing to Arakcheev but +knew that his letter would be read by the Emperor, and therefore +weighed every word in it to the best of his ability.) + +I expect the Minister [Barclay de Tolly] has already reported the +abandonment of Smolensk to the enemy. It is pitiable and sad, and +the whole army is in despair that this most important place has been +wantonly abandoned. I, for my part, begged him personally most +urgently and finally wrote him, but nothing would induce him to +consent. I swear to you on my honor that Napoleon was in such a fix as +never before and might have lost half his army but could not have +taken Smolensk. Our troops fought, and are fighting, as never +before. With fifteen thousand men I held the enemy at bay for +thirty-five hours and beat him; but he would not hold out even for +fourteen hours. It is disgraceful, a stain on our army, and as for +him, he ought, it seems to me, not to live. If he reports that our +losses were great, it is not true; perhaps about four thousand, not +more, and not even that; but even were they ten thousand, that's +war! But the enemy has lost masses... + +What would it have cost him to hold out for another two days? They +would have had to retire of their own accord, for they had no water +for men or horses. He gave me his word he would not retreat, but +suddenly sent instructions that he was retiring that night. We +cannot fight in this way, or we may soon bring the enemy to Moscow... + +There is a rumor that you are thinking of peace. God forbid that you +should make peace after all our sacrifices and such insane retreats! +You would set all Russia against you and every one of us would feel +ashamed to wear the uniform. If it has come to this--we must fight +as long as Russia can and as long as there are men able to stand... + +One man ought to be in command, and not two. Your Minister may +perhaps be good as a Minister, but as a general he is not merely bad +but execrable, yet to him is entrusted the fate of our whole +country.... I am really frantic with vexation; forgive my writing +boldly. It is clear that the man who advocates the conclusion of a +peace, and that the Minister should command the army, does not love +our sovereign and desires the ruin of us all. So I write you +frankly: call out the militia. For the Minister is leading these +visitors after him to Moscow in a most masterly way. The whole army +feels great suspicion of the Imperial aide-de-camp Wolzogen. He is +said to be more Napoleon's man than ours, and he is always advising +the Minister. I am not merely civil to him but obey him like a +corporal, though I am his senior. This is painful, but, loving my +benefactor and sovereign, I submit. Only I am sorry for the Emperor +that he entrusts our fine army to such as he. Consider that on our +retreat we have lost by fatigue and left in the hospital more than +fifteen thousand men, and had we attacked this would not have +happened. Tell me, for God's sake, what will Russia, our mother +Russia, say to our being so frightened, and why are we abandoning +our good and gallant Fatherland to such rabble and implanting feelings +of hatred and shame in all our subjects? What are we scared at and +of whom are we afraid? I am not to blame that the Minister is +vacillating, a coward, dense, dilatory, and has all bad qualities. The +whole army bewails it and calls down curses upon him... + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Among the innumerable categories applicable to the phenomena of +human life one may discriminate between those in which substance +prevails and those in which form prevails. To the latter--as +distinguished from village, country, provincial, or even Moscow +life--we may allot Petersburg life, and especially the life of its +salons. That life of the salons is unchanging. Since the year 1805 +we had made peace and had again quarreled with Bonaparte and had +made constitutions and unmade them again, but the salons of Anna +Pavlovna Helene remained just as they had been--the one seven and +the other five years before. At Anna Pavlovna's they talked with +perplexity of Bonaparte's successes just as before and saw in them and +in the subservience shown to him by the European sovereigns a +malicious conspiracy, the sole object of which was to cause +unpleasantness and anxiety to the court circle of which Anna +Pavlovna was the representative. And in Helene's salon, which +Rumyantsev himself honored with his visits, regarding Helene as a +remarkably intelligent woman, they talked with the same ecstasy in +1812 as in 1808 of the "great nation" and the "great man," and +regretted our rupture with France, a rupture which, according to them, +ought to be promptly terminated by peace. + +Of late, since the Emperor's return from the army, there had been +some excitement in these conflicting salon circles and some +demonstrations of hostility to one another, but each camp retained its +own tendency. In Anna Pavlovna's circle only those Frenchmen were +admitted who were deep-rooted legitimists, and patriotic views were +expressed to the effect that one ought not to go to the French theater +and that to maintain the French troupe was costing the government as +much as a whole army corps. The progress of the war was eagerly +followed, and only the reports most flattering to our army were +circulated. In the French circle of Helene and Rumyantsev the +reports of the cruelty of the enemy and of the war were contradicted +and all Napoleon's attempts at conciliation were discussed. In that +circle they discountenanced those who advised hurried preparations for +a removal to Kazan of the court and the girls' educational +establishments under the patronage of the Dowager Empress. In Helene's +circle the war in general was regarded as a series of formal +demonstrations which would very soon end in peace, and the view +prevailed expressed by Bilibin--who now in Petersburg was quite at +home in Helene's house, which every clever man was obliged to visit- +that not by gunpowder but by those who invented it would matters be +settled. In that circle the Moscow enthusiasm--news of which had +reached Petersburg simultaneously with the Emperor's return--was +ridiculed sarcastically and very cleverly, though with much caution. + +Anna Pavlovna's circle on the contrary was enraptured by this +enthusiasm and spoke of it as Plutarch speaks of the deeds of the +ancients. Prince Vasili, who still occupied his former important +posts, formed a connecting link between these two circles. He +visited his "good friend Anna Pavlovna" as well as his daughter's +"diplomatic salon," and often in his constant comings and goings +between the two camps became confused and said at Helene's what he +should have said at Anna Pavlovna's and vice versa. + +Soon after the Emperor's return Prince Vasili in a conversation +about the war at Anna Pavlovna's severely condemned Barclay de +Tolly, but was undecided as to who ought to be appointed commander +in chief. One of the visitors, usually spoken of as "a man of great +merit," having described how he had that day seen Kutuzov, the newly +chosen chief of the Petersburg militia, presiding over the +enrollment of recruits at the Treasury, cautiously ventured to suggest +that Kutuzov would be the man to satisfy all requirements. + +Anna Pavlovna remarked with a melancholy smile that Kutuzov had done +nothing but cause the Emperor annoyance. + +"I have talked and talked at the Assembly of the Nobility," Prince +Vasili interrupted, "but they did not listen to me. I told them his +election as chief of the militia would not please the Emperor. They +did not listen to me. + +"It's all this mania for opposition," he went on. "And who for? It +is all because we want to ape the foolish enthusiasm of those +Muscovites," Prince Vasili continued, forgetting for a moment that +though at Helene's one had to ridicule the Moscow enthusiasm, at +Anna Pavlovna's one had to be ecstatic about it. But he retrieved +his mistake at once. "Now, is it suitable that Count Kutuzov, the +oldest general in Russia, should preside at that tribunal? He will get +nothing for his pains! How could they make a man commander in chief +who cannot mount a horse, who drops asleep at a council, and has the +very worst morals! A good reputation he made for himself at Bucharest! +I don't speak of his capacity as a general, but at a time like this +how they appoint a decrepit, blind old man, positively +blind? A fine idea to have a blind general! He can't see anything. +To play blindman's bluff? He can't see at all!" + +No one replied to his remarks. + +This was quite correct on the twenty-fourth of July. But on the +twenty-ninth of July Kutuzov received the title of Prince. This +might indicate a wish to get rid of him, and therefore Prince Vasili's +opinion continued to be correct though he was not now in any hurry +to express it. But on the eighth of August a committee, consisting +of Field Marshal Saltykov, Arakcheev, Vyazmitinov, Lopukhin, and +Kochubey met to consider the progress of the war. This committee +came to the conclusion that our failures were due to a want of unity +in the command and though the members of the committee were aware of +the Emperor's dislike of Kutuzov, after a short deliberation they +agreed to advise his appointment as commander in chief. That same +day Kutuzov was appointed commander in chief with full powers over the +armies and over the whole region occupied by them. + +On the ninth of August Prince Vasili at Anna Pavlovna's again met +the "man of great merit." The latter was very attentive to Anna +Pavlovna because he wanted to be appointed director of one of the +educational establishments for young ladies. Prince Vasili entered the +room with the air of a happy conqueror who has attained the object +of his desires. + +"Well, have you heard the great news? Prince Kutuzov is field +marshal! All dissensions are at an end! I am so glad, so delighted! At +last we have a man!" said he, glancing sternly and significantly round +at everyone in the drawing room. + +The "man of great merit," despite his desire to obtain the post of +director, could not refrain from reminding Prince Vasili of his former +opinion. Though this was impolite to Prince Vasili in Anna +Pavlovna's drawing room, and also to Anna Pavlovna herself who had +received the news with delight, he could not resist the temptation. + +"But, Prince, they say he is blind!" said he, reminding Prince +Vasili of his own words. + +"Eh? Nonsense! He sees well enough," said Prince Vasili rapidly, +in a deep voice and with a slight cough--the voice and cough with +which he was wont to dispose of all difficulties. + +"He sees well enough," he added. "And what I am so pleased about," +he went on, "is that our sovereign has given him full powers over +all the armies and the whole region--powers no commander in chief ever +had before. He is a second autocrat," he concluded with a victorious +smile. + +"God grant it! God grant it!" said Anna Pavlovna. + +The "man of great merit," who was still a novice in court circles, +wishing to flatter Anna Pavlovna by defending her former position on +this question, observed: + +"It is said that the Emperor was reluctant to give Kutuzov those +powers. They say he blushed like a girl to whom Joconde is read, +when he said to Kutuzov: 'Your Emperor and the Fatherland award you +this honor.'" + +"Perhaps the heart took no part in that speech," said Anna Pavlovna. + +"Oh, no, no!" warmly rejoined Prince Vasili, who would not now yield +Kutuzov to anyone; in his opinion Kutuzov was not only admirable +himself, but was adored by everybody. "No, that's impossible," said +he, "for our sovereign appreciated him so highly before." + +"God grant only that Prince Kutuzov assumes real power and does +not allow anyone to put a spoke in his wheel," observed Anna Pavlovna. + +Understanding at once to whom she alluded, Prince Vasili said in a +whisper: + +"I know for a fact that Kutuzov made it an absolute condition that +the Tsarevich should not be with the army. Do you know what he said to +the Emperor?" + +And Prince Vasili repeated the words supposed to have been spoken by +Kutuzov to the Emperor. "I can neither punish him if he does wrong nor +reward him if he does right." + +"Oh, a very wise man is Prince Kutuzov! I have known him a long +time!" + +"They even say," remarked the "man of great merit" who did not yet +possess courtly tact, "that his excellency made it an express +condition that the sovereign himself should not be with the army." + +As soon as he said this both Prince Vasili and Anna Pavlovna +turned away from him and glanced sadly at one another with a sigh at +his naivete. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +While this was taking place in Petersburg the French had already +passed Smolensk and were drawing nearer and nearer to Moscow. +Napoleon's historian Thiers, like other of his historians, trying to +justify his hero says that he was drawn to the walls of Moscow against +his will. He is as right as other historians who look for the +explanation of historic events in the will of one man; he is as +right as the Russian historians who maintain that Napoleon was drawn +to Moscow by the skill of the Russian commanders. Here besides the law +of retrospection, which regards all the past as a preparation for +events that subsequently occur, the law of reciprocity comes in, +confusing the whole matter. A good chessplayer having lost a game is +sincerely convinced that his loss resulted from a mistake he made +and looks for that mistake in the opening, but forgets that at each +stage of the game there were similar mistakes and that none of his +moves were perfect. He only notices the mistake to which he pays +attention, because his opponent took advantage of it. How much more +complex than this is the game of war, which occurs under certain +limits of time, and where it is not one will that manipulates lifeless +objects, but everything results from innumerable conflicts of +various wills! + +After Smolensk Napoleon sought a battle beyond Dorogobuzh at Vyazma, +and then at Tsarevo-Zaymishche, but it happened that owing to a +conjunction of innumerable circumstances the Russians could not give +battle till they reached Borodino, seventy miles from Moscow. From +Vyazma Napoleon ordered a direct advance on Moscow. + +Moscou, la capitale asiatique de ce grand empire, la ville sacree +des peuples d'Alexandre, Moscou avec ses innombrables eglises en forme +de pagodes chinoises,* this Moscow gave Napoleon's imagination no +rest. On the march from Vyazma to Tsarevo-Zaymishche he rode his light +bay bobtailed ambler accompanied by his Guards, his bodyguard, his +pages, and aides-de-camp. Berthier, his chief of staff, dropped behind +to question a Russian prisoner captured by the cavalry. Followed by +Lelorgne d'Ideville, an interpreter, he overtook Napoleon at a +gallop and reined in his horse with an amused expression. + + +*"Moscow, the Asiatic capital of this great empire, the sacred +city of Alexander's people, Moscow with its innumerable churches +shaped like Chinese pagodas." + + +"Well?" asked Napoleon. + +"One of Platov's Cossacks says that Platov's corps is joining up +with the main army and that Kutuzov has been appointed commander in +chief. He is a very shrewd and garrulous fellow." + +Napoleon smiled and told them to give the Cossack a horse and +bring the man to him. He wished to talk to him himself. Several +adjutants galloped off, and an hour later, Lavrushka, the serf Denisov +had handed over to Rostov, rode up to Napoleon in an orderly's +jacket and on a French cavalry saddle, with a merry, and tipsy face. +Napoleon told him to ride by his side and began questioning him. + +"You are a Cossack?" + +"Yes, a Cossack, your Honor." + +"The Cossack, not knowing in what company he was, for Napoleon's +plain appearance had nothing about it that would reveal to an Oriental +mind the presence of a monarch, talked with extreme familiarity of the +incidents of the war," says Thiers, narrating this episode. In reality +Lavrushka, having got drunk the day before and left his master +dinnerless, had been whipped and sent to the village in quest of +chickens, where he engaged in looting till the French took him +prisoner. Lavrushka was one of those coarse, bare-faced lackeys who +have seen all sorts of things, consider it necessary to do +everything in a mean and cunning way, are ready to render any sort +of service to their master, and are keen at guessing their master's +baser impulses, especially those prompted by vanity and pettiness. + +Finding himself in the company of Napoleon, whose identity he had +easily and surely recognized, Lavrushka was not in the least abashed +but merely did his utmost to gain his new master's favor. + +He knew very well that this was Napoleon, but Napoleon's presence +could no more intimidate him than Rostov's, or a sergeant major's with +the rods, would have done, for he had nothing that either the sergeant +major or Napoleon could deprive him of. + +So he rattled on, telling all the gossip he had heard among the +orderlies. Much of it true. But when Napoleon asked him whether the +Russians thought they would beat Bonaparte or not, Lavrushka screwed +up his eyes and considered. + +In this question he saw subtle cunning, as men of his type see +cunning in everything, so he frowned and did not answer immediately. + +"It's like this," he said thoughtfully, "if there's a battle soon, +yours will win. That's right. But if three days pass, then after that, +well, then that same battle will not soon be over." + +Lelorgne d'Ideville smilingly interpreted this speech to Napoleon +thus: "If a battle takes place within the next three days the French +will win, but if later, God knows what will happen." Napoleon did +not smile, though he was evidently in high good humor, and he +ordered these words to be repeated. + +Lavrushka noticed this and to entertain him further, pretending +not to know who Napoleon was, added: + +"We know that you have Bonaparte and that he has beaten everybody in +the world, but we are a different matter..."--without knowing why or +how this bit of boastful patriotism slipped out at the end. + +The interpreter translated these words without the last phrase, +and Bonaparte smiled. "The young Cossack made his mighty +interlocutor smile," says Thiers. After riding a few paces in silence, +Napoleon turned to Berthier and said he wished to see how the news +that he was talking to the Emperor himself, to that very Emperor who +had written his immortally victorious name on the Pyramids, would +affect this enfant du Don.* + + +*"Child of the Don." + + +The fact was accordingly conveyed to Lavrushka. + +Lavrushka, understanding that this was done to perplex him and +that Napoleon expected him to be frightened, to gratify his new +masters promptly pretended to be astonished and awe-struck, opened his +eyes wide, and assumed the expression he usually put on when taken +to be whipped. "As soon as Napoleon's interpreter had spoken," says +Thiers, "the Cossack, seized by amazement, did not utter another word, +but rode on, his eyes fixed on the conqueror whose fame had reached +him across the steppes of the East. All his loquacity was suddenly +arrested and replaced by a naive and silent feeling of admiration. +Napoleon, after making the Cossack a present, had him set free like +a bird restored to its native fields." + +Napoleon rode on, dreaming of the Moscow that so appealed to his +imagination, and "the bird restored to its native fields" galloped +to our outposts, inventing on the way all that had not taken place but +that he meant to relate to his comrades. What had really taken place +he did not wish to relate because it seemed to him not worth +telling. He found the Cossacks, inquired for the regiment operating +with Platov's detachment and by evening found his master, Nicholas +Rostov, quartered at Yankovo. Rostov was just mounting to go for a +ride round the neighboring villages with Ilyin; he let Lavrushka +have another horse and took him along with him. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Princess Mary was not in Moscow and out of danger as Prince Andrew +supposed. + +After the return of Alpatych from Smolensk the old prince suddenly +seemed to awake as from a dream. He ordered the militiamen to be +called up from the villages and armed, and wrote a letter to the +commander in chief informing him that he had resolved to remain at +Bald Hills to the last extremity and to defend it, leaving to the +commander in chief's discretion to take measures or not for the +defense of Bald Hills, where one of Russia's oldest generals would +be captured or killed, and he announced to his household that he would +remain at Bald Hills. + +But while himself remaining, he gave instructions for the +departure of the princess and Dessalles with the little prince to +Bogucharovo and thence to Moscow. Princess Mary, alarmed by her +father's feverish and sleepless activity after his previous apathy, +could not bring herself to leave him alone and for the first time in +her life ventured to disobey him. She refused to go away and her +father's fury broke over her in a terrible storm. He repeated every +injustice he had ever inflicted on her. Trying to convict her, he told +her she had worn him out, had caused his quarrel with his son, had +harbored nasty suspicions of him, making it the object of her life +to poison his existence, and he drove her from his study telling her +that if she did not go away it was all the same to him. He declared +that he did not wish to remember her existence and warned her not to +dare to let him see her. The fact that he did not, as she had +feared, order her to be carried away by force but only told her not to +let him see her cheered Princess Mary. She knew it was a proof that in +the depth of his soul he was glad she was remaining at home and had +not gone away. + +The morning after little Nicholas had left, the old prince donned +his full uniform and prepared to visit the commander in chief. His +caleche was already at the door. Princess Mary saw him walk out of the +house in his uniform wearing all his orders and go down the garden +to review his armed peasants and domestic serfs. She sat by the window +listening to his voice which reached her from the garden. Suddenly +several men came running up the avenue with frightened faces. + +Princess Mary ran out to the porch, down the flower-bordered path, +and into the avenue. A large crowd of militiamen and domestics were +moving toward her, and in their midst several men were supporting by +the armpits and dragging along a little old man in a uniform and +decorations. She ran up to him and, in the play of the sunlight that +fell in small round spots through the shade of the lime-tree avenue, +could not be sure what change there was in his face. All she could see +was that his former stern and determined expression had altered to one +of timidity and submission. On seeing his daughter he moved his +helpless lips and made a hoarse sound. It was impossible to make out +what he wanted. He was lifted up, carried to his study, and laid on +the very couch he had so feared of late. + +The doctor, who was fetched that same night, bled him and said +that the prince had had a seizure paralyzing his right side. + +It was becoming more and more dangerous to remain at Bald Hills, and +next day they moved the prince to Bogucharovo, the doctor accompanying +him. + +By the time they reached Bogucharovo, Dessalles and the little +prince had already left for Moscow. + +For three weeks the old prince lay stricken by paralysis in the +new house Prince Andrew had built at Bogucharovo, ever in the same +state, getting neither better nor worse. He was unconscious and lay +like a distorted corpse. He muttered unceasingly, his eyebrows and +lips twitching, and it was impossible to tell whether he understood +what was going on around him or not. One thing was certain--that he +was suffering and wished to say something. But what it was, no one +could tell: it might be some caprice of a sick and half-crazy man, +or it might relate to public affairs, or possibly to family concerns. + +The doctor said this restlessness did not mean anything and was +due to physical causes; but Princess Mary thought he wished to tell +her something, and the fact that her presence always increased his +restlessness confirmed her opinion. + +He was evidently suffering both physically and mentally. There was +no hope of recovery. It was impossible for him to travel, it would not +do to let him die on the road. "Would it not be better if the end +did come, the very end?" Princess Mary sometimes thought. Night and +day, hardly sleeping at all, she watched him and, terrible to say, +often watched him not with hope of finding signs of improvement but +wishing to find symptoms of the approach of the end. + +Strange as it was to her to acknowledge this feeling in herself, yet +there it was. And what seemed still more terrible to her was that +since her father's illness began (perhaps even sooner, when she stayed +with him expecting something to happen), all the personal desires +and hopes that had been forgotten or sleeping within her had awakened. +Thoughts that had not entered her mind for years--thoughts of a life +free from the fear of her father, and even the possibility of love and +of family happiness--floated continually in her imagination like +temptations of the devil. Thrust them aside as she would, questions +continually recurred to her as to how she would order her life now, +after that. These were temptations of the devil and Princess Mary knew +it. She knew that the sole weapon against him was prayer, and she +tried to pray. She assumed an attitude of prayer, looked at the icons, +repeated the words of a prayer, but she could not pray. She felt +that a different world had now taken possession of her--the life of +a world of strenuous and free activity, quite opposed to the spiritual +world in which till now she had been confined and in which her +greatest comfort had been prayer. She could not pray, could not +weep, and worldly cares took possession of her. + +It was becoming dangerous to remain in Bogucharovo. News of the +approach of the French came from all sides, and in one village, ten +miles from Bogucharovo, a homestead had been looted by French +marauders. + +The doctor insisted on the necessity of moving the prince; the +provincial Marshal of the Nobility sent an official to Princess Mary +to persuade her to get away as quickly as possible, and the head of +the rural police having come to Bogucharovo urged the same thing, +saying that the French were only some twenty-five miles away, that +French proclamations were circulating in the villages, and that if the +princess did not take her father away before the fifteenth, he could +not answer for the consequences. + +The princess decided to leave on the fifteenth. The cares of +preparation and giving orders, for which everyone came to her, +occupied her all day. She spent the night of the fourteenth as +usual, without undressing, in the room next to the one where the +prince lay. Several times, waking up, she heard his groans and +muttering, the creak of his bed, and the steps of Tikhon and the +doctor when they turned him over. Several times she listened at the +door, and it seemed to her that his mutterings were louder than +usual and that they turned him over oftener. She could not sleep and +several times went to the door and listened, wishing to enter but +not deciding to do so. Though he did not speak, Princess Mary saw +and knew how unpleasant every sign of anxiety on his account was to +him. She had noticed with what dissatisfaction he turned from the look +she sometimes involuntarily fixed on him. She knew that her going in +during the night at an unusual hour would irritate him. + +But never had she felt so grieved for him or so much afraid of +losing him. She recalled all her life with him and in every word and +act of his found an expression of his love of her. Occasionally amid +these memories temptations of the devil would surge into her +imagination: thoughts of how things would be after his death, and +how her new, liberated life would be ordered. But she drove these +thoughts away with disgust. Toward morning he became quiet and she +fell asleep. + +She woke late. That sincerity which often comes with waking showed +her clearly what chiefly concerned her about her father's illness. +On waking she listened to what was going on behind the door and, +hearing him groan, said to herself with a sigh that things were +still the same. + +"But what could have happened? What did I want? I want his death!" +she cried with a feeling of loathing for herself. + +She washed, dressed, said her prayers, and went out to the porch. In +front of it stood carriages without horses and things were being +packed into the vehicles. + +It was a warm, gray morning. Princess Mary stopped at the porch, +still horrified by her spiritual baseness and trying to arrange her +thoughts before going to her father. The doctor came downstairs and +went out to her. + +"He is a little better today," said he. "I was looking for you. +One can make out something of what he is saying. His head is +clearer. Come in, he is asking for you..." + +Princess Mary's heart beat so violently at this news that she grew +pale and leaned against the wall to keep from falling. To see him, +talk to him, feel his eyes on her now that her whole soul was +overflowing with those dreadful, wicked temptations, was a torment +of joy and terror. + +"Come," said the doctor. + +Princess Mary entered her father's room and went up to his bed. He +was lying on his back propped up high, and his small bony hands with +their knotted purple veins were lying on the quilt; his left eye gazed +straight before him, his right eye was awry, and his brows and lips +motionless. He seemed altogether so thin, small, and pathetic. His +face seemed to have shriveled or melted; his features had grown +smaller. Princess Mary went up and kissed his hand. His left hand +pressed hers so that she understood that he had long been waiting +for her to come. He twitched her hand, and his brows and lips quivered +angrily. + +She looked at him in dismay trying to guess what he wanted of her. +When she changed her position so that his left eye could see her +face he calmed down, not taking his eyes off her for some seconds. +Then his lips and tongue moved, sounds came, and he began to speak, +gazing timidly and imploringly at her, evidently afraid that she might +not understand. + +Straining all her faculties Princess Mary looked at him. The comic +efforts with which he moved his tongue made her drop her eyes and with +difficulty repress the sobs that rose to her throat. He said +something, repeating the same words several times. She could not +understand them, but tried to guess what he was saying and inquiringly +repeated the words he uttered. + +"Mmm...ar...ate...ate..." he repeated several times. + +It was quite impossible to understand these sounds. The doctor +thought he had guessed them, and inquiringly repeated: "Mary, are +you afraid?" The prince shook his head, again repeated the same +sounds. + +"My mind, my mind aches?" questioned Princess Mary. + +He made a mumbling sound in confirmation of this, took her hand, and +began pressing it to different parts of his breast as if trying to +find the right place for it. + +"Always thoughts... about you... thoughts..." he then uttered much +more clearly than he had done before, now that he was sure of being +understood. + +Princess Mary pressed her head against his hand, trying to hide +her sobs and tears. + +He moved his hand over her hair. + +"I have been calling you all night..." he brought out. + +"If only I had known..." she said through her tears. "I was afraid +to come in." + +He pressed her hand. + +"Weren't you asleep?" + +"No, I did not sleep," said Princess Mary, shaking her head. + +Unconsciously imitating her father, she now tried to express herself +as he did, as much as possible by signs, and her tongue too seemed +to move with difficulty. + +"Dear one... Dearest..." Princess Mary could not quite make out what +he had said, but from his look it was clear that he had uttered a +tender caressing word such as he had never used to her before. "Why +didn't you come in?" + +"And I was wishing for his death!" thought Princess Mary. + +He was silent awhile. + +"Thank you... daughter dear!... for all, for all... forgive!... +thank you!... forgive!... thank you!..." and tears began to flow +from his eyes. "Call Andrew!" he said suddenly, and a childish, +timid expression of doubt showed itself on his face as he spoke. + +He himself seemed aware that his demand was meaningless. So at least +it seemed to Princess Mary. + +"I have a letter from him," she replied. + +He glanced at her with timid surprise. + +"Where is he?" + +"He's with the army, Father, at Smolensk." + +He closed his eyes and remained silent a long time. Then as if in +answer to his doubts and to confirm the fact that now he understood +and remembered everything, he nodded his head and reopened his eyes. + +"Yes," he said, softly and distinctly. "Russia has perished. They've +destroyed her." + +And he began to sob, and again tears flowed from his eyes. +Princess Mary could no longer restrain herself and wept while she +gazed at his face. + +Again he closed his eyes. His sobs ceased, he pointed to his eyes, +and Tikhon, understanding him, wiped away the tears. + +Then he again opened his eyes and said something none of them +could understand for a long time, till at last Tikhon understood and +repeated it. Princess Mary had sought the meaning of his words in +the mood in which he had just been speaking. She thought he was +speaking of Russia, or Prince Andrew, of herself, of his grandson, +or of his own death, and so she could not guess his words. + +"Put on your white dress. I like it," was what he said. + +Having understood this Princess Mary sobbed still louder, and the +doctor taking her arm led her out to the veranda, soothing her and +trying to persuade her to prepare for her journey. When she had left +the room the prince again began speaking about his son, about the war, +and about the Emperor, angrily twitching his brows and raising his +hoarse voice, and then he had a second and final stroke. + +Princess Mary stayed on the veranda. The day had cleared, it was hot +and sunny. She could understand nothing, think of nothing and feel +nothing, except passionate love for her father, love such as she +thought she had never felt till that moment. She ran out sobbing +into the garden and as far as the pond, along the avenues of young +lime trees Prince Andrew had planted. + +"Yes... I... I... I wished for his death! Yes, I wanted it to end +quicker.... I wished to be at peace.... And what will become of me? +What use will peace be when he is no longer here?" Princess Mary +murmured, pacing the garden with hurried steps and pressing her +hands to her bosom which heaved with convulsive sobs. + +When she had completed the tour of the garden, which brought her +again to the house, she saw Mademoiselle Bourienne--who had remained +at Bogucharovo and did not wish to leave it--coming toward her with +a stranger. This was the Marshal of the Nobility of the district, +who had come personally to point out to the princess the necessity for +her prompt departure. Princess Mary listened without understanding +him; she led him to the house, offered him lunch, and sat down with +him. Then, excusing herself, she went to the door of the old +prince's room. The doctor came out with an agitated face and said +she could not enter. + +"Go away, Princess! Go away... go away!" + +She returned to the garden and sat down on the grass at the foot +of the slope by the pond, where no one could see her. She did not know +how long she had been there when she was aroused by the sound of a +woman's footsteps running along the path. She rose and saw Dunyasha +her maid, who was evidently looking for her, and who stopped +suddenly as if in alarm on seeing her mistress. + +"Please come, Princess... The Prince," said Dunyasha in a breaking +voice. + +"Immediately, I'm coming, I'm coming!" replied the princess +hurriedly, not giving Dunyasha time to finish what she was saying, and +trying to avoid seeing the girl she ran toward the house. + +"Princess, it's God's will! You must be prepared for everything," +said the Marshal, meeting her at the house door. + +"Let me alone; it's not true!" she cried angrily to him. + +The doctor tried to stop her. She pushed him aside and ran to her +father's door. "Why are these people with frightened faces stopping +me? I don't want any of them! And what are they doing here?" she +thought. She opened the door and the bright daylight in that +previously darkened room startled her. In the room were her nurse +and other women. They all drew back from the bed, making way for +her. He was still lying on the bed as before, but the stern expression +of his quiet face made Princess Mary stop short on the threshold. + +"No, he's not dead--it's impossible!" she told herself and +approached him, and repressing the terror that seized her, she pressed +her lips to his cheek. But she stepped back immediately. All the force +of the tenderness she had been feeling for him vanished instantly +and was replaced by a feeling of horror at what lay there before +her. "No, he is no more! He is not, but here where he was is something +unfamiliar and hostile, some dreadful, terrifying, and repellent +mystery!" And hiding her face in her hands, Princess Mary sank into +the arms of the doctor, who held her up. + + +In the presence of Tikhon and the doctor the women washed what had +been the prince, tied his head up with a handkerchief that the mouth +should not stiffen while open, and with another handkerchief tied +together the legs that were already spreading apart. Then they dressed +him in uniform with his decorations and placed his shriveled little +body on a table. Heaven only knows who arranged all this and when, but +it all got done as if of its own accord. Toward night candles were +burning round his coffin, a pall was spread over it, the floor was +strewn with sprays of juniper, a printed band was tucked in under +his shriveled head, and in a corner of the room sat a chanter +reading the psalms. + +Just as horses shy and snort and gather about a dead horse, so the +inmates of the house and strangers crowded into the drawing room round +the coffin--the Marshal, the village Elder, peasant women--and all +with fixed and frightened eyes, crossing themselves, bowed and +kissed the old prince's cold and stiffened hand. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Until Prince Andrew settled in Bogucharovo its owners had always +been absentees, and its peasants were of quite a different character +from those of Bald Hills. They differed from them in speech, dress, +and disposition. They were called steppe peasants. The old prince used +to approve of them for their endurance at work when they came to +Bald Hills to help with the harvest or to dig ponds, and ditches, +but he disliked them for their boorishness. + +Prince Andrew's last stay at Bogucharovo, when he introduced +hospitals and schools and reduced the quitrent the peasants had to +pay, had not softened their disposition but had on the contrary +strengthened in them the traits of character the old prince called +boorishness. Various obscure rumors were always current among them: at +one time a rumor that they would all be enrolled as Cossacks; at +another of a new religion to which they were all to be converted; then +of some proclamation of the Tsar's and of an oath to the Tsar Paul +in 1797 (in connection with which it was rumored that freedom had been +granted them but the landowners had stopped it), then of Peter +Fedorovich's return to the throne in seven years' time, when +everything would be made free and so "simple" that there would be no +restrictions. Rumors of the war with Bonaparte and his invasion were +connected in their minds with the same sort of vague notions of +Antichrist, the end of the world, and "pure freedom." + +In the vicinity of Bogucharovo were large villages belonging to +the crown or to owners whose serfs paid quitrent and could work +where they pleased. There were very few resident landlords in the +neighborhood and also very few domestic or literate serfs, and in +the lives of the peasantry of those parts the mysterious undercurrents +in the life of the Russian people, the causes and meaning of which are +so baffling to contemporaries, were more clearly and strongly +noticeable than among others. One instance, which had occurred some +twenty years before, was a movement among the peasants to emigrate +to some unknown "warm rivers." Hundreds of peasants, among them the +Bogucharovo folk, suddenly began selling their cattle and moving in +whole families toward the southeast. As birds migrate to somewhere +beyond the sea, so these men with their wives and children streamed to +the southeast, to parts where none of them had ever been. They set off +in caravans, bought their freedom one by one or ran away, and drove or +walked toward the "warm rivers." Many of them were punished, some sent +to Siberia, many died of cold and hunger on the road, many returned of +their own accord, and the movement died down of itself just as it +had sprung up, without apparent reason. But such undercurrents still +existed among the people and gathered new forces ready to manifest +themselves just as strangely, unexpectedly, and at the same time +simply, naturally, and forcibly. Now in 1812, to anyone living in +close touch with these people it was apparent that these undercurrents +were acting strongly and nearing an eruption. + +Alpatych, who had reached Bogucharovo shortly before the old +prince's death, noticed an agitation among the peasants, and that +contrary to what was happening in the Bald Hills district, where +over a radius of forty miles all the peasants were moving away and +leaving their villages to be devastated by the Cossacks, the +peasants in the steppe region round Bogucharovo were, it was +rumored, in touch with the French, received leaflets from them that +passed from hand to hand, and did not migrate. He learned from +domestic serfs loyal to him that the peasant Karp, who possessed great +influence in the village commune and had recently been away driving +a government transport, had returned with news that the Cossacks +were destroying deserted villages, but that the French did not harm +them. Alpatych also knew that on the previous day another peasant +had even brought from the village of Visloukhovo, which was occupied +by the French, a proclamation by a French general that no harm would +be done to the inhabitants, and if they remained they would be paid +for anything taken from them. As proof of this the peasant had brought +from Visloukhovo a hundred rubles in notes (he did not know that +they were false) paid to him in advance for hay. + +More important still, Alpatych learned that on the morning of the +very day he gave the village Elder orders to collect carts to move the +princess' luggage from Bogucharovo, there had been a village meeting +at which it had been decided not to move but to wait. Yet there was no +time to waste. On the fifteenth, the day of the old prince's death, +the Marshal had insisted on Princess Mary's leaving at once, as it was +becoming dangerous. He had told her that after the sixteenth he +could not be responsible for what might happen. On the evening of +the day the old prince died the Marshal went away, promising to return +next day for the funeral. But this he was unable to do, for he +received tidings that the French had unexpectedly advanced, and had +barely time to remove his own family and valuables from his estate. + +For some thirty years Bogucharovo had been managed by the village +Elder, Dron, whom the old prince called by the diminutive "Dronushka." + +Dron was one of those physically and mentally vigorous peasants +who grow big beards as soon as they are of age and go on unchanged +till they are sixty or seventy, without a gray hair or the loss of a +tooth, as straight and strong at sixty as at thirty. + +Soon after the migration to the "warm rivers," in which he had taken +part like the rest, Dron was made village Elder and overseer of +Bogucharovo, and had since filled that post irreproachably for +twenty-three years. The peasants feared him more than they did their +master. The masters, both the old prince and the young, and the +steward respected him and jestingly called him "the Minister." +During the whole time of his service Dron had never been drunk or ill, +never after sleepless nights or the hardest tasks had he shown the +least fatigue, and though he could not read he had never forgotten a +single money account or the number of quarters of flour in any of +the endless cartloads he sold for the prince, nor a single shock of +the whole corn crop on any single acre of the Bogucharovo fields. + +Alpatych, arriving from the devastated Bald Hills estate, sent for +his Dron on the day of the prince's funeral and told him to have +twelve horses got ready for the princess' carriages and eighteen carts +for the things to be removed from Bogucharovo. Though the peasants +paid quitrent, Alpatych thought no difficulty would be made about +complying with this order, for there were two hundred and thirty +households at work in Bogucharovo and the peasants were well to do. +But on hearing the order Dron lowered his eyes and remained silent. +Alpatych named certain peasants he knew, from whom he told him to take +the carts. + +Dron replied that the horses of these peasants were away carting. +Alpatych named others, but they too, according to Dron, had no +horses available: some horses were carting for the government, +others were too weak, and others had died for want of fodder. It +seemed that no horses could be had even for the carriages, much less +for the carting. + +Alpatych looked intently at Dron and frowned. Just as Dron was a +model village Elder, so Alpatych had not managed the prince's +estates for twenty years in vain. He a model steward, possessing in +the highest degree the faculty of divining the needs and instincts +of those he dealt with. Having glanced at Dron he at once understood +that his answers did not express his personal views but the general +mood of the Bogucharovo commune, by which the Elder had already been +carried away. But he also knew that Dron, who had acquired property +and was hated by the commune, must be hesitating between the two +camps: the masters' and the serfs'. He noticed this hesitation in +Dron's look and therefore frowned and moved closer up to him. + +"Now just listen, Dronushka," said he. "Don't talk nonsense to me. +His excellency Prince Andrew himself gave me orders to move all the +people away and not leave them with the enemy, and there is an order +from the Tsar about it too. Anyone who stays is a traitor to the Tsar. +Do you hear?" + +"I hear," Dron answered without lifting his eyes. + +Alpatych was not satisfied with this reply. + +"Eh, Dron, it will turn out badly!" he said, shaking his head. + +"The power is in your hands," Dron rejoined sadly. + +"Eh, Dron, drop it!" Alpatych repeated, withdrawing his hand from +his bosom and solemnly pointing to the floor at Dron's feet. "I can +see through you and three yards into the ground under you," he +continued, gazing at the floor in front of Dron. + +Dron was disconcerted, glanced furtively at Alpatych and again +lowered his eyes. + +"You drop this nonsense and tell the people to get ready to leave +their homes and go to Moscow and to get carts ready for tomorrow +morning for the princess' things. And don't go to any meeting +yourself, do you hear?" + +Dron suddenly fell on his knees. + +"Yakov Alpatych, discharge me! Take the keys from me and discharge +me, for Christ's sake!" + +"Stop that!" cried Alpatych sternly. "I see through you and three +yards under you," he repeated, knowing that his skill in beekeeping, +his knowledge of the right time to sow the oats, and the fact that +he had been able to retain the old prince's favor for twenty years had +long since gained him the reputation of being a wizard, and that the +power of seeing three yards under a man is considered an attribute +of wizards. + +Dron got up and was about to say something, but Alpatych interrupted +him. + +"What is it you have got into your heads, eh?... What are you +thinking of, eh?" + +"What am I to do with the people?" said Dron. "They're quite +beside themselves; I have already told them..." + +"'Told them,' I dare say!" said Alpatych. "Are they drinking?" he +asked abruptly. + +"Quite beside themselves, Yakov Alpatych; they've fetched another +barrel." + +"Well, then, listen! I'll go to the police officer, and you tell +them so, and that they must stop this and the carts must be got +ready." + +"I understand." + +Alpatych did not insist further. He had managed people for a long +time and knew that the chief way to make them obey is to show no +suspicion that they can possibly disobey. Having wrung a submissive "I +understand" from Dron, Alpatych contented himself with that, though he +not only doubted but felt almost certain that without the help of +troops the carts would not be forthcoming. + +And so it was, for when evening came no carts had been provided. +In the village, outside the drink shop, another meeting was being +held, which decided that the horses should be driven out into the +woods and the carts should not be provided. Without saying anything of +this to the princess, Alpatych had his own belongings taken out of the +carts which had arrived from Bald Hills and had those horses got ready +for the princess' carriages. Meanwhile he went himself to the police +authorities. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +After her father's funeral Princess Mary shut herself up in her room +and did not admit anyone. A maid came to the door to say that Alpatych +was asking for orders about their departure. (This was before his talk +with Dron.) Princess Mary raised herself on the sofa on which she +had been lying and replied through the closed door that she did not +mean to go away and begged to be left in peace. + +The windows of the room in which she was lying looked westward. +She lay on the sofa with her face to the wall, fingering the buttons +of the leather cushion and seeing nothing but that cushion, and her +confused thoughts were centered on one subject--the irrevocability +of death and her own spiritual baseness, which she had not +suspected, but which had shown itself during her father's illness. She +wished to pray but did not dare to, dared not in her present state +of mind address herself to God. She lay for a long time in that +position. + +The sun had reached the other side of the house, and its slanting +rays shone into the open window, lighting up the room and part of +the morocco cushion at which Princess Mary was looking. The flow of +her thoughts suddenly stopped. Unconsciously she sat up, smoothed +her hair, got up, and went to the window, involuntarily inhaling the +freshness of the clear but windy evening. + +"Yes, you can well enjoy the evening now! He is gone and no one will +hinder you," she said to herself, and sinking into a chair she let her +head fall on the window sill. + +Someone spoke her name in a soft and tender voice from the garden +and kissed her head. She looked up. It was Mademoiselle Bourienne in a +black dress and weepers. She softly approached Princess Mary, +sighed, kissed her, and immediately began to cry. The princess +looked up at her. All their former disharmony and her own jealousy +recurred to her mind. But she remembered too how he had changed of +late toward Mademoiselle Bourienne and could not bear to see her, +thereby showing how unjust were the reproaches Princess Mary had +mentally addressed to her. "Besides, is it for me, for me who +desired his death, to condemn anyone?" she thought. + +Princess Mary vividly pictured to herself the position of +Mademoiselle Bourienne, whom she had of late kept at a distance, but +who yet was dependent on her and living in her house. She felt sorry +for her and held out her hand with a glance of gentle inquiry. +Mademoiselle Bourienne at once began crying again and kissed that +hand, speaking of the princess' sorrow and making herself a partner in +it. She said her only consolation was the fact that the princess +allowed her to share her sorrow, that all the old misunderstandings +should sink into nothing but this great grief; that she felt herself +blameless in regard to everyone, and that he, from above, saw her +affection and gratitude. The princess heard her, not heeding her words +but occasionally looking up at her and listening to the sound of her +voice. + +"Your position is doubly terrible, dear princess," said Mademoiselle +Bourienne after a pause. "I understand that you could not, and cannot, +think of yourself, but with my love for you I must do so.... Has +Alpatych been to you? Has he spoken to you of going away?" she asked. + +Princess Mary did not answer. She did not understand who was to go +or where to. "Is it possible to plan or think of anything now? Is it +not all the same?" she thought, and did not reply. + +"You know, chere Marie," said Mademoiselle Bourienne, "that we are +in danger--are surrounded by the French. It would be dangerous to move +now. If we go we are almost sure to be taken prisoners, and God +knows..." + +Princess Mary looked at her companion without understanding what she +was talking about. + +"Oh, if anyone knew how little anything matters to me now," she +said. "Of course I would on no account wish to go away from him.... +Alpatych did say something about going.... Speak to him; I can do +nothing, nothing, and don't want to...." + +"I've spoken to him. He hopes we should be in time to get away +tomorrow, but I think it would now be better to stay here," said +Mademoiselle Bourienne. "Because, you will agree, chere Marie, to fall +into the hands of the soldiers or of riotous peasants would be +terrible." + +Mademoiselle Bourienne took from her reticule a proclamation (not +printed on ordinary Russian paper) of General Rameau's, telling people +not to leave their homes and that the French authorities would +afford them proper protection. She handed this to the princess. + +"I think it would be best to appeal to that general," she continued, +"and and am sure that all due respect would be shown you." + +Princess Mary read the paper, and her face began to quiver with +stifled sobs. + +"From whom did you get this?" she asked. + +"They probably recognized that I am French, by my name," replied +Mademoiselle Bourienne blushing. + +Princess Mary, with the paper in her hand, rose from the window +and with a pale face went out of the room and into what had been +Prince Andrew's study. + +"Dunyasha, send Alpatych, or Dronushka, or somebody to me!" she +said, "and tell Mademoiselle Bourienne not to come to me," she +added, hearing Mademoiselle Bourienne's voice. "We must go at once, at +once!" she said, appalled at the thought of being left in the hands of +the French. + +"If Prince Andrew heard that I was in the power of the French! +That I, the daughter of Prince Nicholas Bolkonski, asked General +Rameau for protection and accepted his favor!" This idea horrified +her, made her shudder, blush, and feel such a rush of anger and +pride as she had never experienced before. All that was distressing, +and especially all that was humiliating, in her position rose +vividly to her mind. "They, the French, would settle in this house: M. +le General Rameau would occupy Prince Andrew's study and amuse himself +by looking through and reading his letters and papers. Mademoiselle +Bourienne would do the honors of Bogucharovo for him. I should be +given a small room as a favor, the soldiers would violate my +father's newly dug grave to steal his crosses and stars, they would +tell me of their victories over the Russians, and would pretend to +sympathize with my sorrow..." thought Princess Mary, not thinking +her own thoughts but feeling bound to think like her father and her +brother. For herself she did not care where she remained or what +happened to her, but she felt herself the representative of her dead +father and of Prince Andrew. Involuntarily she thought their +thoughts and felt their feelings. What they would have said and what +they would have done she felt bound to say and do. She went into +Prince Andrew's study, trying to enter completely into his ideas, +and considered her position. + +The demands of life, which had seemed to her annihilated by her +father's death, all at once rose before her with a new, previously +unknown force and took possession of her. + +Agitated and flushed she paced the room, sending now for Michael +Ivanovich and now for Tikhon or Dron. Dunyasha, the nurse, and the +other maids could not say in how far Mademoiselle Bourienne's +statement was correct. Alpatych was not at home, he had gone to the +police. Neither could the architect Michael Ivanovich, who on being +sent for came in with sleepy eyes, tell Princess Mary anything. With +just the same smile of agreement with which for fifteen years he had +been accustomed to answer the old prince without expressing views of +his own, he now replied to Princess Mary, so that nothing definite +could be got from his answers. The old valet Tikhon, with sunken, +emaciated face that bore the stamp of inconsolable grief, replied: +"Yes, Princess" to all Princess Mary's questions and hardly +refrained from sobbing as he looked at her. + +At length Dron, the village Elder, entered the room and with a +deep bow to Princess Mary came to a halt by the doorpost. + +Princess Mary walked up and down the room and stopped in front of +him. + +"Dronushka," she said, regarding as a sure friend this Dronushka who +always used to bring a special kind of gingerbread from his visit to +the fair at Vyazma every year and smilingly offer it to her, +"Dronushka, now since our misfortune..." she began, but could not go +on. + +"We are all in God's hands," said he, with a sigh. + +They were silent for a while. + +"Dronushka, Alpatych has gone off somewhere and I have no one to +turn to. Is true, as they tell me, that I can't even go away?" + +"Why shouldn't you go away, your excellency? You can go," said Dron. + +"I was told it would be dangerous because of the enemy. Dear friend, +I can do nothing. I understand nothing. I have nobody! I want to go +away tonight or early tomorrow morning." + +Dron paused. He looked askance at Princess Mary and said: "There are +no horses; I told Yakov Alpatych so." + +"Why are there none?" asked the princess. + +"It's all God's scourge," said Dron. "What horses we had have been +taken for the army or have died--this is such a year! It's not a +case of feeding horses--we may die of hunger ourselves! As it is, some +go three days without eating. We've nothing, we've been ruined." + +Princess Mary listened attentively to what he told her. + +"The peasants are ruined? They have no bread?" she asked. + +"They're dying of hunger," said Dron. "It's not a case of carting." + +"But why didn't you tell me, Dronushka? Isn't it possible to help +them? I'll do all I can...." + +To Princess Mary it was strange that now, at a moment when such +sorrow was filling her soul, there could be rich people and poor, +and the rich could refrain from helping the poor. She had heard +vaguely that there was such a thing as "landlord's corn" which was +sometimes given to the peasants. She also knew that neither her father +nor her brother would refuse to help the peasants in need, she only +feared to make some mistake in speaking about the distribution of +the grain she wished to give. She was glad such cares presented +themselves, enabling her without scruple to forget her own grief. +She began asking Dron about the peasants' needs and what there was +in Bogucharovo that belonged to the landlord. + +"But we have grain belonging to my brother?" she said. + +"The landlord's grain is all safe," replied Dron proudly. "Our +prince did not order it to be sold." + +"Give it to the peasants, let them have all they need; I give you +leave in my brother's name," said she. + +Dron made no answer but sighed deeply. + +"Give them that corn if there is enough of it. Distribute it all. +I give this order in my brother's name; and tell them that what is +ours is theirs. We do not grudge them anything. Tell them so." + +Dron looked intently at the princess while she was speaking. + +"Discharge me, little mother, for God's sake! Order the keys to be +taken from me," said he. "I have served twenty-three years and have +done no wrong. Discharge me, for God's sake!" + +Princess Mary did not understand what he wanted of her or why he was +asking to be discharged. She replied that she had never doubted his +devotion and that she was ready to do anything for him and for the +peasants. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +An hour later Dunyasha came to tell the princess that Dron had come, +and all the peasants had assembled at the barn by the princess' +order and wished to have word with their mistress. + +"But I never told them to come," said Princess Mary. "I only told +Dron to let them have the grain." + +"Only, for God's sake, Princess dear, have them sent away and +don't go out to them. It's all a trick," said Dunyasha, "and when +Yakov Alpatych returns let us get away... and please don't..." + +"What is a trick?" asked Princess Mary in surprise. + +"I know it is, only listen to me for God's sake! Ask nurse too. They +say they don't agree to leave Bogucharovo as you ordered." + +"You're making some mistake. I never ordered them to go away," +said Princess Mary. "Call Dronushka." + +Dron came and confirmed Dunyasha's words; the peasants had come by +the princess' order. + +"But I never sent for them," declared the princess. "You must have +given my message wrong. I only said that you were to give them the +grain." + +Dron only sighed in reply. + +"If you order it they will go away," said he. + +"No, no. I'll go out to them," said Princess Mary, and in spite of +the nurse's and Dunyasha's protests she went out into the porch; Dron, +Dunyasha, the nurse, and Michael Ivanovich following her. + +"They probably think I am offering them the grain to bribe them to +remain here, while I myself go away leaving them to the mercy of the +French," thought Princess Mary. "I will offer them monthly rations and +housing at our Moscow estate. I am sure Andrew would do even more in +my place," she thought as she went out in the twilight toward the +crowd standing on the pasture by the barn. + +The men crowded closer together, stirred, and rapidly took off their +hats. Princess Mary lowered her eyes and, tripping over her skirt, +came close up to them. So many different eyes, old and young, were +fixed on her, and there were so many different faces, that she could +not distinguish any of them and, feeling that she must speak to them +all at once, did not know how to do it. But again the sense that she +represented her father and her brother gave her courage, and she +boldly began her speech. + +"I am very glad you have come," she said without raising her eyes, +and feeling her heart beating quickly and violently. "Dronushka +tells me that the war has ruined you. That is our common misfortune, +and I shall grudge nothing to help you. I am myself going away because +it is dangerous here... the enemy is near... because... I am giving +you everything, my friends, and I beg you to take everything, all +our grain, so that you may not suffer want! And if you have been +told that I am giving you the grain to keep you here--that is not +true. On the contrary, I ask you to go with all your belongings to our +estate near Moscow, and I promise you I will see to it that there +you shall want for nothing. You shall be given food and lodging." + +The princess stopped. Sighs were the only sound heard in the crowd. + +"I am not doing this on my own account," she continued, "I do it +in the name of my dead father, who was a good master to you, and of my +brother and his son." + +Again she paused. No one broke the silence. + +"Ours is a common misfortune and we will share it together. All that +is mine is yours," she concluded, scanning the faces before her. + +All eyes were gazing at her with one and the same expression. She +could not fathom whether it was curiosity, devotion, gratitude, or +apprehension and distrust--but the expression on all the faces was +identical. + +"We are all very thankful for your bounty, but it won't do for us to +take the landlord's grain," said a voice at the back of the crowd. + +"But why not?" asked the princess. + +No one replied and Princess Mary, looking round at the crowd, +found that every eye she met now was immediately dropped. + +"But why don't you want to take it?" she asked again. + +No one answered. + +The silence began to oppress the princess and she tried to catch +someone's eye. + +"Why don't you speak?" she inquired of a very old man who stood just +in front of her leaning on his stick. "If you think something more +is wanted, tell me! I will do anything," said she, catching his eye. + +But as if this angered him, he bent his head quite low and muttered: + +"Why should we agree? We don't want the grain." + +"Why should we give up everything? We don't agree. Don't agree.... +We are sorry for you, but we're not willing. Go away yourself, +alone..." came from various sides of the crowd. + +And again all the faces in that crowd bore an identical +expression, though now it was certainly not an expression of curiosity +or gratitude, but of angry resolve. + +"But you can't have understood me," said Princess Mary with a sad +smile. "Why don't you want to go? I promise to house and feed you, +while here the enemy would ruin you..." + +But her voice was drowned by the voices of the crowd. + +"We're not willing. Let them ruin us! We won't take your grain. We +don't agree." + +Again Princess Mary tried to catch someone's eye, but not a single +eye in the crowd was turned to her; evidently they were all trying +to avoid her look. She felt strange and awkward. + +"Oh yes, an artful tale! Follow her into slavery! Pull down your +houses and go into bondage! I dare say! 'I'll give you grain, indeed!' +she says," voices in the crowd were heard saying. + +With drooping head Princess Mary left the crowd and went back to the +house. Having repeated her order to Dron to have horses ready for +her departure next morning, she went to her room and remained alone +with her own thoughts. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +For a long time that night Princess Mary sat by the open window of +her room hearing the sound of the peasants' voices that reached her +from the village, but it was not of them she was thinking. She felt +that she could not understand them however much she might think +about them. She thought only of one thing, her sorrow, which, after +the break caused by cares for the present, seemed already to belong to +the past. Now she could remember it and weep or pray. + +After sunset the wind had dropped. The night was calm and fresh. +Toward midnight the voices began to subside, a cock crowed, the full +moon began to show from behind the lime trees, a fresh white dewy mist +began to rise, and stillness reigned over the village and the house. + +Pictures of the near past--her father's illness and last moments- +rose one after another to her memory. With mournful pleasure she now +lingered over these images, repelling with horror only the last one, +the picture of his death, which she felt she could not contemplate +even in imagination at this still and mystic hour of night. And +these pictures presented themselves to her so clearly and in such +detail that they seemed now present, now past, and now future. + +She vividly recalled the moment when he had his first stroke and was +being dragged along by his armpits through the garden at Bald Hills, +muttering something with his helpless tongue, twitching his gray +eyebrows and looking uneasily and timidly at her. + +"Even then he wanted to tell me what he told me the day he died," +she thought. "He had always thought what he said then." And she +recalled in all its detail the night at Bald Hills before he had the +last stroke, when with a foreboding of disaster she had remained at +home against his will. She had not slept and had stolen downstairs +on tiptoe, and going to the door of the conservatory where he slept +that night had listened at the door. In a suffering and weary voice he +was saying something to Tikhon, speaking of the Crimea and its warm +nights and of the Empress. Evidently he had wanted to talk. "And why +didn't he call me? Why didn't he let me be there instead of Tikhon?" +Princess Mary had thought and thought again now. "Now he will never +tell anyone what he had in his soul. Never will that moment return for +him or for me when he might have said all he longed to say, and not +Tikhon but I might have heard and understood him. Why didn't I enter +the room?" she thought. "Perhaps he would then have said to me what he +said the day he died. While talking to Tikhon he asked about me twice. +He wanted to see me, and I was standing close by, outside the door. It +was sad and painful for him to talk to Tikhon who did not understand +him. I remember how he began speaking to him about Lise as if she were +alive--he had forgotten she was dead--and Tikhon reminded him that she +was no more, and he shouted, 'Fool!' He was greatly depressed. From +behind the door I heard how he lay down on his bed groaning and loudly +exclaimed, 'My God!' Why didn't I go in then? What could he have +done to me? What could I have lost? And perhaps he would then have +been comforted and would have said that word to me." And Princess Mary +uttered aloud the caressing word he had said to her on the day of +his death. "Dear-est!" she repeated, and began sobbing, with tears +that relieved her soul. She now saw his face before her. And not the +face she had known ever since she could remember and had always seen +at a distance, but the timid, feeble face she had seen for the first +time quite closely, with all its wrinkles and details, when she +stooped near to his mouth to catch what he said. + +"Dear-est!" she repeated again. + +"What was he thinking when he uttered that word? What is he thinking +now?" This question suddenly presented itself to her, and in answer +she saw him before her with the expression that was on his face as +he lay in his coffin with his chin bound up with a white handkerchief. +And the horror that had seized her when she touched him and +convinced herself that that was not he, but something mysterious and +horrible, seized her again. She tried to think of something else and +to pray, but could do neither. With wide-open eyes she gazed at the +moonlight and the shadows, expecting every moment to see his dead +face, and she felt that the silence brooding over the house and within +it held her fast. + +"Dunyasha," she whispered. "Dunyasha!" she screamed wildly, and +tearing herself out of this silence she ran to the servants' +quarters to meet her old nurse and the maidservants who came running +toward her. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +On the seventeenth of August Rostov and Ilyin, accompanied by +Lavrushka who had just returned from captivity and by an hussar +orderly, left their quarters at Yankovo, ten miles from Bogucharovo, +and went for a ride--to try a new horse Ilyin had bought and to find +out whether there was any hay to be had in the villages. + +For the last three days Bogucharovo had lain between the two hostile +armies, so that it was as easy for the Russian rearguard to get to +it as for the French vanguard; Rostov, as a careful squadron +commander, wished to take such provisions as remained at Bogucharovo +before the French could get them. + +Rostov and Ilyin were in the merriest of moods. On the way to +Bogucharovo, a princely estate with a dwelling house and farm where +they hoped to find many domestic serfs and pretty girls, they +questioned Lavrushka about Napoleon and laughed at his stories, and +raced one another to try Ilyin's horse. + +Rostov had no idea that the village he was entering was the property +of that very Bolkonski who had been engaged to his sister. + +Rostov and Ilyin gave rein to their horses for a last race along the +incline before reaching Bogucharovo, and Rostov, outstripping Ilyin, +was the first to gallop into the village street. + +"You're first!" cried Ilyin, flushed. + +"Yes, always first both on the grassland and here," answered Rostov, +stroking his heated Donets horse. + +"And I'd have won on my Frenchy, your excellency," said Lavrushka +from behind, alluding to his shabby cart horse, "only I didn't wish to +mortify you." + +They rode at a footpace to the barn, where a large crowd of peasants +was standing. + +Some of the men bared their heads, others stared at the new arrivals +without doffing their caps. Two tall old peasants with wrinkled +faces and scanty beards emerged from the tavern, smiling, +staggering, and singing some incoherent song, and approached the +officers. + +"Fine fellows!" said Rostov laughing. "Is there any hay here?" + +"And how like one another," said Ilyin. + +"A mo-o-st me-r-r-y co-o-m-pa...!" sang one of the peasants with a +blissful smile. + +One of the men came out of the crowd and went up to Rostov. + +"Who do you belong to?" he asked. + +"The French," replied Ilyin jestingly, "and here is Napoleon +himself"--and he pointed to Lavrushka. + +"Then you are Russians?" the peasant asked again. + +"And is there a large force of you here?" said another, a short man, +coming up. + +"Very large," answered Rostov. "But why have you collected here?" he +added. "Is it a holiday?" + +"The old men have met to talk over the business of the commune," +replied the peasant, moving away. + +At that moment, on the road leading from the big house, two women +and a man in a white hat were seen coming toward the officers. + +"The one in pink is mine, so keep off!" said Ilyin on seeing +Dunyasha running resolutely toward him. + +"She'll be ours!" said Lavrushka to Ilyin, winking. + +"What do you want, my pretty?" said Ilyin with a smile. + +"The princess ordered me to ask your regiment and your name." + +"This is Count Rostov, squadron commander, and I am your humble +servant." + +"Co-o-om-pa-ny!" roared the tipsy peasant with a beatific smile as +he looked at Ilyin talking to the girl. Following Dunyasha, Alpatych +advanced to Rostov, having bared his head while still at a distance. + +"May I make bold to trouble your honor?" said he respectfully, but +with a shade of contempt for the youthfulness of this officer and with +a hand thrust into his bosom. "My mistress, daughter of General in +Chief Prince Nicholas Bolkonski who died on the fifteenth of this +month, finding herself in difficulties owing to the boorishness of +these people"--he pointed to the peasants--"asks you to come up to the +house.... Won't you, please, ride on a little farther," said +Alpatych with a melancholy smile, "as it is not convenient in the +presence of...?" He pointed to the two peasants who kept as close to +him as horseflies to a horse. + +"Ah!... Alpatych... Ah, Yakov Alpatych... Grand! Forgive us for +Christ's sake, eh?" said the peasants, smiling joyfully at him. + +Rostov looked at the tipsy peasants and smiled. + +"Or perhaps they amuse your honor?" remarked Alpatych with a staid +air, as he pointed at the old men with his free hand. + +"No, there's not much to be amused at here," said Rostov, and rode +on a little way. "What's the matter?" he asked. + +"I make bold to inform your honor that the rude peasants here +don't wish to let the mistress leave the estate, and threaten to +unharness her horses, so that though everything has been packed up +since morning, her excellency cannot get away." + +"Impossible!" exclaimed Rostov. + +"I have the honor to report to you the actual truth," said Alpatych. + +Rostov dismounted, gave his horse to the orderly, and followed +Alpatych to the house, questioning him as to the state of affairs. +It appeared that the princess' offer of corn to the peasants the +previous day, and her talk with Dron and at the meeting, had +actually had so bad an effect that Dron had finally given up the +keys and joined the peasants and had not appeared when Alpatych sent +for him; and that in the morning when the princess gave orders to +harness for her journey, the peasants had come in a large crowd to the +barn and sent word that they would not let her leave the village: that +there was an order not to move, and that they would unharness the +horses. Alpatych had gone out to admonish them, but was told (it was +chiefly Karp who did the talking, Dron not showing himself in the +crowd) that they could not let the princess go, that there was an +order to the contrary, but that if she stayed they would serve her +as before and obey her in everything. + +At the moment when Rostov and Ilyin were galloping along the road, +Princess Mary, despite the dissuasions of Alpatych, her nurse, and the +maids, had given orders to harness and intended to start, but when the +cavalrymen were espied they were taken for Frenchmen, the coachman ran +away, and the women in the house began to wail. + +"Father! Benefactor! God has sent you!" exclaimed deeply moved +voices as Rostov passed through the anteroom. + +Princess Mary was sitting helpless and bewildered in the large +sitting room, when Rostov was shown in. She could not grasp who he was +and why he had come, or what was happening to her. When she saw his +Russian face, and by his walk and the first words he uttered +recognized him as a man of her own class, she glanced at him with +her deep radiant look and began speaking in a voice that faltered +and trembled with emotion. This meeting immediately struck Rostov as a +romantic event. "A helpless girl overwhelmed with grief, left to the +mercy of coarse, rioting peasants! And what a strange fate sent me +here! What gentleness and nobility there are in her features and +expression!" thought he as he looked at her and listened to her +timid story. + +When she began to tell him that all this had happened the day +after her father's funeral, her voiced trembled. She turned away, +and then, as if fearing he might take her words as meant to move him +to pity, looked at him with an apprehensive glance of inquiry. There +were tears in Rostov's eyes. Princess Mary noticed this and glanced +gratefully at him with that radiant look which caused the plainness of +her face to be forgotten. + +"I cannot express, Princess, how glad I am that I happened to ride +here and am able to show my readiness to serve you," said Rostov, +rising. "Go when you please, and I give you my word of honor that no +one shall dare to cause you annoyance if only you will allow me to act +as your escort." And bowing respectfully, as if to a lady of royal +blood, he moved toward the door. + +Rostov's deferential tone seemed to indicate that though he would +consider himself happy to be acquainted with her, he did not wish to +take advantage of her misfortunes to intrude upon her. + +Princess Mary understood this and appreciated his delicacy. + +"I am very, very grateful to you," she said in French, "but I hope +it was all a misunderstanding and that no one is to blame for it." She +suddenly began to cry. + +"Excuse me!" she said. + +Rostov, knitting his brows, left the room with another low bow. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +"Well, is she pretty? Ah, friend--my pink one is delicious; her +name is Dunyasha...." + +But on glancing at Rostov's face Ilyin stopped short. He saw that +his hero and commander was following quite a different train of +thought. + +Rostov glanced angrily at Ilyin and without replying strode off with +rapid steps to the village. + +"I'll show them; I'll give it to them, the brigands!" said he to +himself. + +Alpatych at a gliding trot, only just managing not to run, kept up +with him with difficulty. + +"What decision have you been pleased to come to?" said he. + +Rostov stopped and, clenching his fists, suddenly and sternly turned +on Alpatych. + +"Decision? What decision? Old dotard!..." cried he. "What have you +been about? Eh? The peasants are rioting, and you can't manage them? +You're a traitor yourself! I know you. I'll flay you all alive!..." +And as if afraid of wasting his store of anger, he left Alpatych and +went rapidly forward. Alpatych, mastering his offended feelings, +kept pace with Rostov at a gliding gait and continued to impart his +views. He said the peasants were obdurate and that at the present +moment it would be imprudent to "overresist" them without an armed +force, and would it not be better first to send for the military? + +"I'll give them armed force... I'll 'overresist' them!" uttered +Rostov meaninglessly, breathless with irrational animal fury and the +need to vent it. + +Without considering what he would do he moved unconciously with +quick, resolute steps toward the crowd. And the nearer he drew to it +the more Alpatych felt that this unreasonable action might produce +good results. The peasants in the crowd were similarly impressed +when they saw Rostov's rapid, firm steps and resolute, frowning face. + +After the hussars had come to the village and Rostov had gone to see +the princess, a certain confusion and dissension had arisen among +the crowd. Some of the peasants said that these new arrivals were +Russians and might take it amiss that the mistress was being detained. +Dron was of this opinion, but as soon as he expressed it Karp and +others attacked their ex-Elder. + +"How many years have you been fattening on the commune?" Karp +shouted at him. "It's all one to you! You'll dig up your pot of +money and take it away with you.... What does it matter to you whether +our homes are ruined or not?" + +"We've been told to keep order, and that no one is to leave their +homes or take away a single grain, and that's all about it!" cried +another. + +"It was your son's turn to be conscripted, but no fear! You +begrudged your lump of a son," a little old man suddenly began +attacking Dron--"and so they took my Vanka to be shaved for a soldier! +But we all have to die." + +"To be sure, we all have to die. I'm not against the commune," +said Dron. + +"That's it--not against it! You've filled your belly...." + +The two tall peasants had their say. As soon as Rostov, followed +by Ilyin, Lavrushka, and Alpatych, came up to the crowd, Karp, +thrusting his fingers into his belt and smiling a little, walked to +the front. Dron on the contrary retired to the rear and the crowd drew +closer together. + +"Who is your Elder here? Hey?" shouted Rostov, coming up to the +crowd with quick steps. + +"The Elder? What do you want with him?..." asked Karp. + +But before the words were well out of his mouth, his cap flew off +and a fierce blow jerked his head to one side. + +"Caps off, traitors!" shouted Rostov in a wrathful voice. "Where's +the Elder?" he cried furiously. + +"The Elder.... He wants the Elder!... Dron Zakharych, you!" meek and +flustered voices here and there were heard calling and caps began to +come off their heads. + +"We don't riot, we're following the orders," declared Karp, and at +that moment several voices began speaking together. + +"It's as the old men have decided--there's too many of you giving +orders." + +"Arguing? Mutiny!... Brigands! Traitors!" cried Rostov unmeaningly +in a voice not his own, gripping Karp by the collar. "Bind him, bind +him!" he shouted, though there was no one to bind him but Lavrushka +and Alpatych. + +Lavrushka, however, ran up to Karp and seized him by the arms from +behind. + +"Shall I call up our men from beyond the hill?" he called out. + +Alpatych turned to the peasants and ordered two of them by name to +come and bind Karp. The men obediently came out of the crowd and began +taking off their belts. + +"Where's the Elder?" demanded Rostov in a loud voice. + +With a pale and frowning face Dron stepped out of the crowd. + +"Are you the Elder? Bind him, Lavrushka!" shouted Rostov, as if that +order, too, could not possibly meet with any opposition. + +And in fact two more peasants began binding Dron, who took off his +own belt and handed it to them, as if to aid them. + +"And you all listen to me!" said Rostov to the peasants. "Be off +to your houses at once, and don't let one of your voices be heard!" + +"Why, we've not done any harm! We did it just out of foolishness. +It's all nonsense... I said then that it was not in order," voices +were heard bickering with one another. + +"There! What did I say?" said Alpatych, coming into his own again. +"It's wrong, lads!" + + "All our stupidity, Yakov Alpatych," came the answers, and the +crowd began at once to disperse through the village. + +The two bound men were led off to the master's house. The two +drunken peasants followed them. + +"Aye, when I look at you!..." said one of them to Karp. + +"How can one talk to the masters like that? What were you thinking +of, you fool?" added the other--"A real fool!" + +Two hours later the carts were standing in the courtyard of the +Bogucharovo house. The peasants were briskly carrying out the +proprietor's goods and packing them on the carts, and Dron, +liberated at Princess Mary's wish from the cupboard where he had +been confined, was standing in the yard directing the men. + +"Don't put it in so carelessly," said one of the peasants, a man +with a round smiling face, taking a casket from a housemaid. "You know +it has cost money! How can you chuck it in like that or shove it under +the cord where it'll get rubbed? I don't like that way of doing +things. Let it all be done properly, according to rule. Look here, put +it under the bast matting and cover it with hay--that's the way!" + +"Eh, books, books!" said another peasant, bringing out Prince +Andrew's library cupboards. "Don't catch up against it! It's heavy, +lads--solid books." + +"Yes, they worked all day and didn't play!" remarked the tall, +round-faced peasant gravely, pointing with a significant wink at the +dictionaries that were on the top. + + +Unwilling to obtrude himself on the princess, Rostov did not go back +to the house but remained in the village awaiting her departure. +When her carriage drove out of the house, he mounted and accompanied +her eight miles from Bogucharovo to where the road was occupied by our +troops. At the inn at Yankovo he respectfully took leave of her, for +the first time permitting himself to kiss her hand. + +"How can you speak so!" he blushingly replied to Princess Mary's +expressions of gratitude for her deliverance, as she termed what had +occurred. "Any police officer would have done as much! If we had had +only peasants to fight, we should not have let the enemy come so far," +said he with a sense of shame and wishing to change the subject. "I am +only happy to have had the opportunity of making your acquaintance. +Good-by, Princess. I wish you happiness and consolation and hope to +meet you again in happier circumstances. If you don't want to make +me blush, please don't thank me!" + +But the princess, if she did not again thank him in words, thanked +him with the whole expression of her face, radiant with gratitude +and tenderness. She could not believe that there was nothing to +thank him for. On the contrary, it seemed to her certain that had he +not been there she would have perished at the hands of the mutineers +and of the French, and that he had exposed himself to terrible and +obvious danger to save her, and even more certain was it that he was a +man of lofty and noble soul, able to understand her position and her +sorrow. His kind, honest eyes, with the tears rising in them when +she herself had begun to cry as she spoke of her loss, did leave her +memory. + +When she had taken leave of him and remained alone she suddenly felt +her eyes filling with tears, and then not for the first time the +strange question presented itself to her: did she love him? + +On the rest of the way to Moscow, though the princess' position +was not a cheerful one, Dunyasha, who went with her in the carriage, +more than once noticed that her mistress leaned out of the window +and smiled at something with an expression of mingled joy and sorrow. + +"Well, supposing I do love him?" thought Princess Mary. + +Ashamed as she was of acknowledging to herself that she had fallen +in love with a man who would perhaps never love her, she comforted +herself with the thought that no one would ever know it and that she +would not be to blame if, without ever speaking of it to anyone, she +continued to the end of her life to love the man with whom she had +fallen in love for the first and last time in her life. + +Sometimes when she recalled his looks, his sympathy, and his +words, happiness did not appear impossible to her. It was at those +moments that Dunyasha noticed her smiling as she looked out of the +carriage window. + +"Was it not fate that brought him to Bogucharovo, and at that very +moment?" thought Princess Mary. "And that caused his sister to +refuse my brother?" And in all this Princess Mary saw the hand of +Providence. + +The impression the princess made on Rostov was a very agreeable one. +To remember her gave him pleasure, and when his comrades, hearing of +his adventure at Bogucharovo, rallied him on having gone to look for +hay and having picked up one of the wealthiest heiresses in Russia, he +grew angry. It made him angry just because the idea of marrying the +gentle Princess Mary, who was attractive to him and had an enormous +fortune, had against his will more than once entered his head. For +himself personally Nicholas could not wish for a better wife: by +marrying her he would make the countess his mother happy, would be +able to put his father's affairs in order, and would even--he felt it- +ensure Princess Mary's happiness. + +But Sonya? And his plighted word? That was why Rostov grew angry +when he was rallied about Princess Bolkonskaya. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +On receiving command of the armies Kutuzov remembered Prince +Andrew and sent an order for him to report at headquarters. + +Prince Andrew arrived at Tsarevo-Zaymishche on the very day and at +the very hour that Kutuzov was reviewing the troops for the first +time. He stopped in the village at the priest's house in front of +which stood the commander in chief's carriage, and he sat down on +the bench at the gate awaiting his Serene Highness, as everyone now +called Kutuzov. From the field beyond the village came now sounds of +regimental music and now the roar of many voices shouting "Hurrah!" to +the new commander in chief. Two orderlies, a courier and a major-domo, +stood near by, some ten paces from Prince Andrew, availing +themselves of Kutuzov's absence and of the fine weather. A short, +swarthy lieutenant colonel of hussars with thick mustaches and +whiskers rode up to the gate and, glancing at Prince Andrew, +inquired whether his Serene Highness was putting up there and +whether he would soon be back. + +Prince Andrew replied that he was not on his Serene Highness' +staff but was himself a new arrival. The lieutenant colonel turned +to a smart orderly, who, with the peculiar contempt with which a +commander in chief's orderly speaks to officers, replied: + +"What? His Serene Highness? I expect he'll be here soon. What do you +want?" + +The lieutenant colonel of hussars smiled beneath his mustache at the +orderly's tone, dismounted, gave his horse to a dispatch runner, and +approached Bolkonski with a slight bow. Bolkonski made room for him on +the bench and the lieutenant colonel sat down beside him. + +"You're also waiting for the commander in chief?" said he. "They say +he weceives evewyone, thank God!... It's awful with those sausage +eaters! Ermolov had weason to ask to be pwomoted to be a German! Now +p'waps Wussians will get a look in. As it was, devil only knows what +was happening. We kept wetweating and wetweating. Did you take part in +the campaign?" he asked. + +"I had the pleasure," replied Prince Andrew, "not only of taking +part in the retreat but of losing in that retreat all I held dear--not +to mention the estate and home of my birth--my father, who died of +grief. I belong to the province of Smolensk." + +"Ah? You're Pwince Bolkonski? Vewy glad to make your acquaintance! +I'm Lieutenant Colonel Denisov, better known as 'Vaska,'" said +Denisov, pressing Prince Andrew's hand and looking into his face +with a particularly kindly attention. "Yes, I heard," said he +sympathetically, and after a short pause added: "Yes, it's Scythian +warfare. It's all vewy well--only not for those who get it in the +neck. So you are Pwince Andwew Bolkonski?" He swayed his head. "Vewy +pleased, Pwince, to make your acquaintance!" he repeated again, +smiling sadly, and he again pressed Prince Andrew's hand. + +Prince Andrew knew Denisov from what Natasha had told him of her +first suitor. This memory carried him sadly and sweetly back to +those painful feelings of which he had not thought lately, but which +still found place in his soul. Of late he had received so many new and +very serious impressions--such as the retreat from Smolensk, his visit +to Bald Hills, and the recent news of his father's death--and had +experienced so many emotions, that for a long time past those memories +had not entered his mind, and now that they did, they did not act on +him with nearly their former strength. For Denisov, too, the +memories awakened by the name of Bolkonski belonged to a distant, +romantic past, when after supper and after Natasha's singing he had +proposed to a little girl of fifteen without realizing what he was +doing. He smiled at the recollection of that time and of his love +for Natasha, and passed at once to what now interested him +passionately and exclusively. This was a plan of campaign he had +devised while serving at the outposts during the retreat. He had +proposed that plan to Barclay de Tolly and now wished to propose it to +Kutuzov. The plan was based on the fact that the French line of +operation was too extended, and it proposed that instead of, or +concurrently with, action on the front to bar the advance of the +French, we should attack their line of communication. He began +explaining his plan to Prince Andrew. + +"They can't hold all that line. It's impossible. I will undertake to +bweak thwough. Give me five hundwed men and I will bweak the line, +that's certain! There's only one way--guewilla warfare!" + +Denisov rose and began gesticulating as he explained his plan to +Bolkonski. In the midst of his explanation shouts were heard from +the army, growing more incoherent and more diffused, mingling with +music and songs and coming from the field where the review was held. +Sounds of hoofs and shouts were nearing the village. + +"He's coming! He's coming!" shouted a Cossack standing at the gate. + +Bolkonski and Denisov moved to the gate, at which a knot of soldiers +(a guard of honor) was standing, and they saw Kutuzov coming down +the street mounted on a rather small sorrel horse. A huge suite of +generals rode behind him. Barclay was riding almost beside him, and +a crowd of officers ran after and around them shouting, "Hurrah!" + +His adjutants galloped into the yard before him. Kutuzov was +impatiently urging on his horse, which ambled smoothly under his +weight, and he raised his hand to his white Horse Guard's cap with a +red band and no peak, nodding his head continually. When he came up to +the guard of honor, a fine set of Grenadiers mostly wearing +decorations, who were giving him the salute, he looked at them +silently and attentively for nearly a minute with the steady gaze of a +commander and then turned to the crowd of generals and officers +surrounding him. Suddenly his face assumed a subtle expression, he +shrugged his shoulders with an air of perplexity. + +"And with such fine fellows to retreat and retreat! Well, good-by, +General," he added, and rode into the yard past Prince Andrew and +Denisov. + +"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" shouted those behind him. + +Since Prince Andrew had last seen him Kutuzov had grown still more +corpulent, flaccid, and fat. But the bleached eyeball, the scar, and +the familiar weariness of his expression were still the same. He was +wearing the white Horse Guard's cap and a military overcoat with a +whip hanging over his shoulder by a thin strap. He sat heavily and +swayed limply on his brisk little horse. + +"Whew... whew... whew!" he whistled just audibly as he rode into the +yard. His face expressed the relief of relaxed strain felt by a man +who means to rest after a ceremony. He drew his left foot out of the +stirrup and, lurching with his whole body and puckering his face +with the effort, raised it with difficulty onto the saddle, leaned +on his knee, groaned, and slipped down into the arms of the Cossacks +and adjutants who stood ready to assist him. + +He pulled himself together, looked round, screwing up his eyes, +glanced at Prince Andrew, and, evidently not recognizing him, moved +with his waddling gait to the porch. "Whew... whew... whew!" he +whistled, and again glanced at Prince Andrew. As often occurs with old +men, it was only after some seconds that the impression produced by +Prince Andrew's face linked itself up with Kutuzov's remembrance of +his personality. + +"Ah, how do you do, my dear prince? How do you do, my dear boy? Come +along..." said he, glancing wearily round, and he stepped onto the +porch which creaked under his weight. + +He unbuttoned his coat and sat down on a bench in the porch. + +"And how's your father?" + +"I received news of his death, yesterday," replied Prince Andrew +abruptly. + +Kutuzov looked at him with eyes wide open with dismay and then +took off his cap and crossed himself: + +"May the kingdom of Heaven be his! God's will be done to us all!" He +sighed deeply, his whole chest heaving, and was silent for a while. "I +loved him and respected him, and sympathize with you with all my +heart." + +He embraced Prince Andrew, pressing him to his fat breast, and for +some time did not let him go. When he released him Prince Andrew saw +that Kutuzov's flabby lips were trembling and that tears were in his +eyes. He sighed and pressed on the bench with both hands to raise +himself. + +"Come! Come with me, we'll have a talk," said he. + +But at that moment Denisov, no more intimidated by his superiors +than by the enemy, came with jingling spurs up the steps of the porch, +despite the angry whispers of the adjutants who tried to stop him. +Kutuzov, his hands still pressed on the seat, glanced at him glumly. +Denisov, having given his name, announced that he had to communicate +to his Serene Highness a matter of great importance for their +country's welfare. Kutuzov looked wearily at him and, lifting his +hands with a gesture of annoyance, folded them across his stomach, +repeating the words: "For our country's welfare? Well, what is it? +Speak!" Denisov blushed like a girl (it was strange to see the color +rise in that shaggy, bibulous, time-worn face) and boldly began to +expound his plan of cutting the enemy's lines of communication between +Smolensk and Vyazma. Denisov came from those parts and knew the +country well. His plan seemed decidedly a good one, especially from +the strength of conviction with which he spoke. Kutuzov looked down at +his own legs, occasionally glancing at the door of the adjoining hut +as if expecting something unpleasant to emerge from it. And from +that hut, while Denisov was speaking, a general with a portfolio under +his arm really did appear. + +"What?" said Kutuzov, in the midst of Denisov's explanations, "are +you ready so soon?" + +"Ready, your Serene Highness," replied the general. + +Kutuzov swayed his head, as much as to say: "How is one man to +deal with it all?" and again listened to Denisov. + +"I give my word of honor as a Wussian officer," said Denisov, +"that I can bweak Napoleon's line of communication!" + +"What relation are you to Intendant General Kiril Andreevich +Denisov?" asked Kutuzov, interrupting him. + +"He is my uncle, your Sewene Highness." + +"Ah, we were friends," said Kutuzov cheerfully. "All right, all +right, friend, stay here at the staff and tomorrow we'll have a talk." + +With a nod to Denisov he turned away and put out his hand for the +papers Konovnitsyn had brought him. + +"Would not your Serene Highness like to come inside?" said the +general on duty in a discontented voice, "the plans must be examined +and several papers have to be signed." + +An adjutant came out and announced that everything was in +readiness within. But Kutuzov evidently did not wish to enter that +room till he was disengaged. He made a grimace... + +"No, tell them to bring a small table out here, my dear boy. I'll +look at them here," said he. "Don't go away," he added, turning to +Prince Andrew, who remained in the porch and listened to the general's +report. + +While this was being given, Prince Andrew heard the whisper of a +woman's voice and the rustle of a silk dress behind the door. +Several times on glancing that way he noticed behind that door a +plump, rosy, handsome woman in a pink dress with a lilac silk kerchief +on her head, holding a dish and evidently awaiting the entrance of the +commander in chief. Kutuzov's adjutant whispered to Prince Andrew +that this was the wife of the priest whose home it was, and that she +intended to offer his Serene Highness bread and salt. "Her husband has +welcomed his Serene Highness with the cross at the church, and she +intends to welcome him in the house.... She's very pretty," added +the adjutant with a smile. At those words Kutuzov looked round. He was +listening to the general's report--which consisted chiefly of a +criticism of the position at Tsarevo-Zaymishche--as he had listened to +Denisov, and seven years previously had listened to the discussion +at the Austerlitz council of war. He evidently listened only because +he had ears which, though there was a piece of tow in one of them, +could not help hearing; but it was evident that nothing the general +could say would surprise or even interest him, that he knew all that +would be said beforehand, and heard it all only because he had to, +as one has to listen to the chanting of a service of prayer. All +that Denisov had said was clever and to the point. What the general +was saying was even more clever and to the point, but it was evident +that Kutuzov despised knowledge and cleverness, and knew of +something else that would decide the matter--something independent +of cleverness and knowledge. Prince Andrew watched the commander +in chief's face attentively, and the only expression he could see +there was one of boredom, curiosity as to the meaning of the +feminine whispering behind the door, and a desire to observe +propriety. It was evident that Kutuzov despised cleverness and +learning and even the patriotic feeling shown by Denisov, but despised +them not because of his own intellect, feelings, or knowledge--he +did not try to display any of these--but because of something else. He +despised them because of his old age and experience of life. The +only instruction Kutuzov gave of his own accord during that report +referred to looting by the Russian troops. At the end of the report +the general put before him for signature a paper relating to the +recovery of payment from army commanders for green oats mown down by +the soldiers, when landowners lodged petitions for compensation. + +After hearing the matter, Kutuzov smacked his lips together and +shook his head. + +"Into the stove... into the fire with it! I tell you once for all, +my dear fellow," said he, "into the fire with all such things! Let +them cut the crops and burn wood to their hearts' content. I don't +order it or allow it, but I don't exact compensation either. One can't +get on without it. 'When wood is chopped the chips will fly.'" He +looked at the paper again. "Oh, this German precision!" he muttered, +shaking his head. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +"Well, that's all!" said Kutuzov as he signed the last of the +documents, and rising heavily and smoothing out the folds in his fat +white neck he moved toward the door with a more cheerful expression. + +The priest's wife, flushing rosy red, caught up the dish she had +after all not managed to present at the right moment, though she had +so long been preparing for it, and with a low bow offered it to +Kutuzov. + +He screwed up his eyes, smiled, lifted her chin with his hand, and +said: + +"Ah, what a beauty! Thank you, sweetheart!" + +He took some gold pieces from his trouser pocket and put them on the +dish for her. "Well, my dear, and how are we getting on?" he asked, +moving to the door of the room assigned to him. The priest's wife +smiled, and with dimples in her rosy cheeks followed him into the +room. The adjutant came out to the porch and asked Prince Andrew to +lunch with him. Half an hour later Prince Andrew was again called to +Kutuzov. He found him reclining in an armchair, still in the same +unbuttoned overcoat. He had in his hand a French book which he +closed as Prince Andrew entered, marking the place with a knife. +Prince Andrew saw by the cover that it was Les Chevaliers du Cygne +by Madame de Genlis. + +"Well, sit down, sit down here. Let's have a talk," said Kutuzov. +"It's sad, very sad. But remember, my dear fellow, that I am a +father to you, a second father...." + +Prince Andrew told Kutuzov all he knew of his father's death, and +what he had seen at Bald Hills when he passed through it. + +"What... what they have brought us to!" Kutuzov suddenly cried in an +agitated voice, evidently picturing vividly to himself from Prince +Andrew's story the condition Russia was in. "But give me time, give me +time!" he said with a grim look, evidently not wishing to continue +this agitating conversation, and added: "I sent for you to keep you +with me." + +"I thank your Serene Highness, but I fear I am no longer fit for the +staff," replied Prince Andrew with a smile which Kutuzov noticed. + +Kutuzov glanced inquiringly at him. + +"But above all," added Prince Andrew, "I have grown used to my +regiment, am fond of the officers, and I fancy the men also like me. I +should be sorry to leave the regiment. If I decline the honor of being +with you, believe me..." + +A shrewd, kindly, yet subtly derisive expression lit up Kutuzov's +podgy face. He cut Bolkonski short. + +"I am sorry, for I need you. But you're right, you're right! It's +not here that men are needed. Advisers are always plentiful, but men +are not. The regiments would not be what they are if the would-be +advisers served there as you do. I remember you at Austerlitz.... I +remember, yes, I remember you with the standard!" said Kutuzov, and +a flush of pleasure suffused Prince Andrew's face at this +recollection. + +Taking his hand and drawing him downwards, Kutuzov offered his cheek +to be kissed, and again Prince Andrew noticed tears in the old man's +eyes. Though Prince Andrew knew that Kutuzov's tears came easily, +and that he was particularly tender to and considerate of him from a +wish to show sympathy with his loss, yet this reminder of Austerlitz +was both pleasant and flattering to him. + +"Go your way and God be with you. I know your path is the path of +honor!" He paused. "I missed you at Bucharest, but I needed someone to +send." And changing the subject, Kutuzov began to speak of the Turkish +war and the peace that had been concluded. "Yes, I have been much +blamed," he said, "both for that war and the peace... but everything +came at the right time. Tout vient a point a celui qui sait attendre.* +And there were as many advisers there as here..." he went on, +returning to the subject of "advisers" which evidently occupied him. +"Ah, those advisers!" said he. "If we had listened to them all we +should not have made peace with Turkey and should not have been +through with that war. Everything in haste, but more haste, less +speed. Kamenski would have been lost if he had not died. He stormed +fortresses with thirty thousand men. It is not difficult to capture +a fortress but it is difficult to win a campaign. For that, storming +and attacking but patience and time are wanted. Kamenski sent soldiers +to Rustchuk, but I only employed these two things and took more +fortresses than Kamenski and made them but eat horseflesh!" He swayed +his head. "And the French shall too, believe me," he went on, +growing warmer and beating his chest, "I'll make them eat horseflesh!" +And tears again dimmed his eyes. + + +*"Everything comes in time to him who knows how to wait." + + +"But shan't we have to accept battle?" remarked Prince Andrew. + +"We shall if everybody wants it; it can't be helped.... But +believe me, my dear boy, there is nothing stronger than those two: +patience and time, they will do it all. But the advisers n'entendent +pas de cette oreille, voila le mal.* Some want a thing--others +don't. What's one to do?" he asked, evidently expecting an answer. +"Well, what do you want us to do?" he repeated and his eye shone +with a deep, shrewd look. "I'll tell you what to do," he continued, as +Prince Andrew still did not reply: "I will tell you what to do, and +what I do. Dans le doute, mon cher," he paused, "abstiens-toi"*[2]--he +articulated the French proverb deliberately. + + +*"Don't see it that way, that's the trouble." + +*[2] "When in doubt, my dear fellow, do nothing." + + +"Well, good-by, my dear fellow; remember that with all my heart I +share your sorrow, and that for you I am not a Serene Highness, nor +a prince, nor a commander in chief, but a father! If you want anything +come straight to me. Good-by, my dear boy." + +Again he embraced and kissed Prince Andrew, but before the latter +had left the room Kutuzov gave a sigh of relief and went on with his +unfinished novel, Les Chevaliers du Cygne by Madame de Genlis. + +Prince Andrew could not have explained how or why it was, but +after that interview with Kutuzov he went back to his regiment +reassured as to the general course of affairs and as to the man to +whom it had been entrusted. The more he realized the absence of all +personal motive in that old man--in whom there seemed to remain only +the habit of passions, and in place of an intellect (grouping events +and drawing conclusions) only the capacity calmly to contemplate the +course of events--the more reassured he was that everything would be +as it should. "He will not bring in any plan of his own. He will not +devise or undertake anything," thought Prince Andrew, "but he will +hear everything, remember everything, and put everything in its place. +He will not hinder anything useful nor allow anything harmful. He +understands that there is something stronger and more important than +his own will--the inevitable course of events, and he can see them and +grasp their significance, and seeing that significance can refrain +from meddling and renounce his personal wish directed to something +else. And above all," thought Prince Andrew, "one believes in him +because he's Russian, despite the novel by Genlis and the French +proverbs, and because his voice shook when he said: 'What they have +brought us to!' and had a sob in it when he said he would 'make them +eat horseflesh!'" + +On such feelings, more or less dimly shared by all, the unanimity +and general approval were founded with which, despite court +influences, the popular choice of Kutuzov as commander in chief was +received. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +After the Emperor had left Moscow, life flowed on there in its usual +course, and its course was so very usual that it was difficult to +remember the recent days of patriotic elation and ardor, hard to +believe that Russia was really in danger and that the members of the +English Club were also sons of the Fatherland ready to sacrifice +everything for it. The one thing that recalled the patriotic fervor +everyone had displayed during the Emperor's stay was the call for +contributions of men and money, a necessity that as soon as the +promises had been made assumed a legal, official form and became +unavoidable. + +With the enemy's approach to Moscow, the Moscovites' view of their +situation did not grow more serious but on the contrary became even +more frivolous, as always happens with people who see a great danger +approaching. At the approach of danger there are always two voices +that speak with equal power in the human soul: one very reasonably +tells a man to consider the nature of the danger and the means of +escaping it; the other, still more reasonably, says that it is too +depressing and painful to think of the danger, since it is not in +man's power to foresee everything and avert the general course of +events, and it is therefore better to disregard what is painful till +it comes, and to think about what is pleasant. In solitude a man +generally listens to the first voice, but in society to the second. So +it was now with the inhabitants of Moscow. It was long since people +had been as gay in Moscow as that year. + +Rostopchin's broadsheets, headed by woodcuts of a drink shop, a +potman, and a Moscow burgher called Karpushka Chigirin, "who--having +been a militiaman and having had rather too much at the pub--heard +that Napoleon wished to come to Moscow, grew angry, abused the +French in very bad language, came out of the drink shop, and, under +the sign of the eagle, began to address the assembled people," were +read and discussed, together with the latest of Vasili Lvovich +Pushkin's bouts rimes. + +In the corner room at the Club, members gathered to read these +broadsheets, and some liked the way Karpushka jeered at the French, +saying: "They will swell up with Russian cabbage, burst with our +buckwheat porridge, and choke themselves with cabbage soup. They are +all dwarfs and one peasant woman will toss three of them with a +hayfork." Others did not like that tone and said it was stupid and +vulgar. It was said that Rostopchin had expelled all Frenchmen and +even all foreigners from Moscow, and that there had been some spies +and agents of Napoleon among them; but this was told chiefly to +introduce Rostopchin's witty remark on that occasion. The foreigners +were deported to Nizhni by boat, and Rostopchin had said to them in +French: "Rentrez en vousmemes; entrez dans la barque, et n'en faites +pas une barque de Charon."* There was talk of all the government +offices having been already removed from Moscow, and to this +Shinshin's witticism was added--that for that alone Moscow ought to be +grateful to Napoleon. It was said that Mamonov's regiment would cost +him eight hundred thousand rubles, and that Bezukhov had spent even +more on his, but that the best thing about Bezukhov's action was +that he himself was going to don a uniform and ride at the head of his +regiment without charging anything for the show. + + +*"Think it over; get into the barque, and take care not to make it a +barque of Charon." + + +"You don't spare anyone," said Julie Drubetskaya as she collected +and pressed together a bunch of raveled lint with her thin, beringed +fingers. + +Julie was preparing to leave Moscow next day and was giving a +farewell soiree. + +"Bezukhov est ridicule, but he is so kind and good-natured. What +pleasure is there to be so caustique?" + +"A forfeit!" cried a young man in militia uniform whom Julie +called "mon chevalier," and who was going with her to Nizhni. + +In Julie's set, as in many other circles in Moscow, it had been +agreed that they would speak nothing but Russian and that those who +made a slip and spoke French should pay fines to the Committee of +Voluntary Contributions. + +"Another forfeit for a Gallicism," said a Russian writer who was +present. "'What pleasure is there to be' is not Russian!" + +"You spare no one," continued Julie to the young man without heeding +the author's remark. + +"For caustique--I am guilty and will pay, and I am prepared to pay +again for the pleasure of telling you the truth. For Gallicisms I +won't be responsible," she remarked, turning to the author: "I have +neither the money nor the time, like Prince Galitsyn, to engage a +master to teach me Russian!" + +"Ah, here he is!" she added. "Quand on... No, no," she said to the +militia officer, "you won't catch me. Speak of the sun and you see its +rays!" and she smiled amiably at Pierre. "We were just talking of +you," she said with the facility in lying natural to a society +woman. "We were saying that your regiment would be sure to be better +than Mamonov's." + +"Oh, don't talk to me of my regiment," replied Pierre, kissing his +hostess' hand and taking a seat beside her. "I am so sick of it." + +"You will, of course, command it yourself?" said Julie, directing +a sly, sarcastic glance toward the militia officer. + +The latter in Pierre's presence had ceased to be caustic, and his +face expressed perplexity as to what Julie's smile might mean. In +spite of his absent-mindedness and good nature, Pierre's personality +immediately checked any attempt to ridicule him to his face. + +"No," said Pierre, with a laughing glance at his big, stout body. "I +should make too good a target for the French, besides I am afraid I +should hardly be able to climb onto a horse." + +Among those whom Julie's guests happened to choose to gossip about +were the Rostovs. + +"I hear that their affairs are in a very bad way," said Julie. +"And he is so unreasonable, the count himself I mean. The +Razumovskis wanted to buy his house and his estate near Moscow, but it +drags on and on. He asks too much." + +"No, I think the sale will come off in a few days," said someone. +"Though it is madness to buy anything in Moscow now." + +"Why?" asked Julie. "You don't think Moscow is in danger?" + +"Then why are you leaving?" + +"I? What a question! I am going because... well, because everyone is +going: and besides--I am not Joan of Arc or an Amazon." + +"Well, of course, of course! Let me have some more strips of linen." + +"If he manages the business properly he will be able to pay off +all his debts," said the militia officer, speaking of Rostov. + +"A kindly old man but not up to much. And why do they stay on so +long in Moscow? They meant to leave for the country long ago. +Natalie is quite well again now, isn't she?" Julie asked Pierre with a +knowing smile. + +"They are waiting for their younger son," Pierre replied. "He joined +Obolenski's Cossacks and went to Belaya Tserkov where the regiment +is being formed. But now they have had him transferred to my +regiment and are expecting him every day. The count wanted to leave +long ago, but the countess won't on any account leave Moscow till +her son returns." + +"I met them the day before yesterday at the Arkharovs'. Natalie +has recovered her looks and is brighter. She sang a song. How easily +some people get over everything!" + +"Get over what?" inquired Pierre, looking displeased. + +Julie smiled. + +"You know, Count, such knights as you are only found in Madame de +Souza's novels." + +"What knights? What do you mean?" demanded Pierre, blushing. + +"Oh, come, my dear count! C'est la fable de tout Moscou. Je vous +admire, ma parole d'honneur!"* + + +*"It is the talk of all Moscow. My word, I admire you!" + + +"Forfeit, forfeit!" cried the militia officer. + +"All right, one can't talk--how tiresome!" + +"What is 'the talk of all Moscow'?" Pierre asked angrily, rising +to his feet. + +"Come now, Count, you know!" + +"I don't know anything about it," said Pierre. + +"I know you were friendly with Natalie, and so... but I was always +more friendly with Vera--that dear Vera." + +"No, madame!" Pierre continued in a tone of displeasure, "I have not +taken on myself the role of Natalie Rostova's knight at all, and +have not been their house for nearly a month. But I cannot +understand the cruelty..." + +"Qui s'excuse s'accuse,"* said Julie, smiling and waving the lint +triumphantly, and to have the last word she promptly changed the +subject. "Do you know what I heard today? Poor Mary Bolkonskaya +arrived in Moscow yesterday. Do you know that she has lost her +father?" + + +*"Who excuses himself, accuses himself." + + +"Really? Where is she? I should like very much to see her," said +Pierre. + +"I spent the evening with her yesterday. She is going to their +estate near Moscow either today or tomorrow morning, with her nephew." + +"Well, and how is she?" asked Pierre. + +"She is well, but sad. But do you know who rescued her? It is +quite a romance. Nicholas Rostov! She was surrounded, and they +wanted to kill her and had wounded some of her people. He rushed in +and saved her...." + +"Another romance," said the militia officer. "Really, this general +flight has been arranged to get all the old maids married off. Catiche +is one and Princess Bolkonskaya another." + +"Do you know, I really believe she is un petit peu amoureuse du +jeune homme."* + + +*"A little bit in love with the young man." + + +"Forfeit, forfeit, forfeit!" + +"But how could one say that in Russian?" + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +When Pierre returned home he was handed two of Rostopchin's +broadsheets that had been brought that day. + +The first declared that the report that Count Rostopchin had +forbidden people to leave Moscow was false; on the contrary he was +glad that ladies and tradesmen's wives were leaving the city. "There +will be less panic and less gossip," ran the broadsheet "but I will +stake my life on it that that will not enter Moscow." These words +showed Pierre clearly for the first time that the French would enter +Moscow. The second broadsheet stated that our headquarters were at +Vyazma, that Count Wittgenstein had defeated the French, but that as +many of the inhabitants of Moscow wished to be armed, weapons were +ready for them at the arsenal: sabers, pistols, and muskets which +could be had at a low price. The tone of the proclamation was not as +jocose as in the former Chigirin talks. Pierre pondered over these +broadsheets. Evidently the terrible stormcloud he had desired with the +whole strength of his soul but which yet aroused involuntary horror in +him was drawing near. + +"Shall I join the army and enter the service, or wait?" he asked +himself for the hundredth time. He took a pack of cards that lay on +the table and began to lay them out for a game of patience. + +"If this patience comes out," he said to himself after shuffling the +cards, holding them in his hand, and lifting his head, "if it comes +out, it means... what does it mean?" + +He had not decided what it should mean when he heard the voice of +the eldest princess at the door asking whether she might come in. + +"Then it will mean that I must go to the army," said Pierre to +himself. "Come in, come in!" he added to the princess. + +Only the eldest princess, the one with the stony face and long +waist, was still living in Pierre's house. The two younger ones had +both married. + +"Excuse my coming to you, cousin," she said in a reproachful and +agitated voice. "You know some decision must be come to. What is going +to happen? Everyone has left Moscow and the people are rioting. How is +it that we are staying on?" + +"On the contrary, things seem satisfactory, ma cousine," said Pierre +in the bantering tone he habitually adopted toward her, always feeling +uncomfortable in the role of her benefactor. + +"Satisfactory, indeed! Very satisfactory! Barbara Ivanovna told me +today how our troops are distinguishing themselves. It certainly +does them credit! And the people too are quite mutinous--they no +longer obey, even my maid has taken to being rude. At this rate they +will soon begin beating us. One can't walk in the streets. But, +above all, the French will be here any day now, so what are we waiting +for? I ask just one thing of you, cousin," she went on, "arrange for +me to be taken to Petersburg. Whatever I may be, I can't live under +Bonaparte's rule." + +"Oh, come, ma cousine! Where do you get your information from? On +the contrary..." + +"I won't submit to your Napoleon! Others may if they please.... If +you don't want to do this..." + +"But I will, I'll give the order at once." + +The princess was apparently vexed at not having anyone to be angry +with. Muttering to herself, she sat down on a chair. + +"But you have been misinformed," said Pierre. "Everything is quiet +in the city and there is not the slightest danger. See! I've just been +reading..." He showed her the broadsheet. "Count Rostopchin writes +that he will stake his life on it that the enemy will not enter +Moscow." + +"Oh, that count of yours!" said the princess malevolently. "He is +a hypocrite, a rascal who has himself roused the people to riot. +Didn't he write in those idiotic broadsheets that anyone, 'whoever +it might be, should be dragged to the lockup by his hair'? (How +silly!) 'And honor and glory to whoever captures him,' he says. This +is what his cajolery has brought us to! Barbara Ivanovna told me the +mob near killed her because she said something in French." + +"Oh, but it's so... You take everything so to heart," said Pierre, +and began laying out his cards for patience. + +Although that patience did come out, Pierre did not join the army, +but remained in deserted Moscow ever in the same state of agitation, +irresolution, and alarm, yet at the same time joyfully expecting +something terrible. + +Next day toward evening the princess set off, and Pierre's head +steward came to inform him that the money needed for the equipment +of his regiment could not be found without selling one of the estates. +In general the head steward made out to Pierre that his project of +raising a regiment would ruin him. Pierre listened to him, scarcely +able to repress a smile. + +"Well then, sell it," said he. "What's to be done? I can't draw back +now!" + +The worse everything became, especially his own affairs, the +better was Pierre pleased and the more evident was it that the +catastrophe he expected was approaching. Hardly anyone he knew was +left in town. Julie had gone, and so had Princess Mary. Of his +intimate friends only the Rostovs remained, but he did not go to see +them. + +To distract his thoughts he drove that day to the village of +Vorontsovo to see the great balloon Leppich was constructing to +destroy the foe, and a trial balloon that was to go up next day. The +balloon was not yet ready, but Pierre learned that it was being +constructed by the Emperor's desire. The Emperor had written to +Count Rostopchin as follows: + + +As soon as Leppich is ready, get together a crew of reliable and +intelligent men for his car and send a courier to General Kutuzov to +let him know. I have informed him of the matter. + +Please impress upon Leppich to be very careful where he descends for +the first time, that he may not make a mistake and fall into the +enemy's hands. It is essential for him to combine his movements with +those of the commander in chief. + + +On his way home from Vorontsovo, as he was passing the Bolotnoe +Place Pierre, seeing a large crowd round the Lobnoe Place, stopped and +got out of his trap. A French cook accused of being a spy was being +flogged. The flogging was only just over, and the executioner was +releasing from the flogging bench a stout man with red whiskers, in +blue stockings and a green jacket, who was moaning piteously. +Another criminal, thin and pale, stood near. Judging by their faces +they were both Frenchmen. With a frightened and suffering look +resembling that on the thin Frenchman's face, Pierre pushed his way in +through the crowd. + +"What is it? Who is it? What is it for?" he kept asking. + +But the attention of the crowd--officials, burghers, shopkeepers, +peasants, and women in cloaks and in pelisses--was so eagerly centered +on what was passing in Lobnoe Place that no one answered him. The +stout man rose, frowned, shrugged his shoulders, and evidently +trying to appear firm began to pull on his jacket without looking +about him, but suddenly his lips trembled and he began to cry, in +the way full-blooded grown-up men cry, though angry with himself for +doing so. In the crowd people began talking loudly, to stifle their +feelings of pity as it seemed to Pierre. + +"He's cook to some prince." + +"Eh, mounseer, Russian sauce seems to be sour to a Frenchman... sets +his teeth on edge!" said a wrinkled clerk who was standing behind +Pierre, when the Frenchman began to cry. + +The clerk glanced round, evidently hoping that his joke would be +appreciated. Some people began to laugh, others continued to watch +in dismay the executioner who was undressing the other man. + +Pierre choked, his face puckered, and he turned hastily away, went +back to his trap muttering something to himself as he went, and took +his seat. As they drove along he shuddered and exclaimed several times +so audibly that the coachman asked him: + +"What is your pleasure?" + +"Where are you going?" shouted Pierre to the man, who was driving to +Lubyanka Street. + +"To the Governor's, as you ordered," answered the coachman. + +"Fool! Idiot!" shouted Pierre, abusing his coachman--a thing he +rarely did. "Home, I told you! And drive faster, blockhead!" "I must +get away this very day," he murmured to himself. + +At the sight of the tortured Frenchman and the crowd surrounding the +Lobnoe Place, Pierre had so definitely made up his mind that he +could no longer remain in Moscow and would leave for the army that +very day that it seemed to him that either he had told the coachman +this or that the man ought to have known it for himself. + +On reaching home Pierre gave orders to Evstafey--his head coachman +who knew everything, could do anything, and was known to all Moscow- +that he would leave that night for the army at Mozhaysk, and that +his saddle horses should be sent there. This could not all be arranged +that day, so on Evstafey's representation Pierre had to put off his +departure till next day to allow time for the relay horses to be +sent on in advance. + +On the twenty-fourth the weather cleared up after a spell of rain, +and after dinner Pierre left Moscow. When changing horses that night +in Perkhushkovo, he learned that there had been a great battle that +evening. (This was the battle of Shevardino.) He was told that there +in Perkhushkovo the earth trembled from the firing, but nobody could +answer his questions as to who had won. At dawn next day Pierre was +approaching Mozhaysk. + +Every house in Mozhaysk had soldiers quartered in it, and at the +hostel where Pierre was met by his groom and coachman there was no +room to be had. It was full of officers. + +Everywhere in Mozhaysk and beyond it, troops were stationed or on +the march. Cossacks, foot and horse soldiers, wagons, caissons, and +cannon were everywhere. Pierre pushed forward as fast as he could, and +the farther he left Moscow behind and the deeper he plunged into +that sea of troops the more was he overcome by restless agitation +and a new and joyful feeling he had not experienced before. It was a +feeling akin to what he had felt at the Sloboda Palace during the +Emperor's visit--a sense of the necessity of undertaking something and +sacrificing something. He now experienced a glad consciousness that +everything that constitutes men's happiness--the comforts of life, +wealth, even life itself--is rubbish it is pleasant to throw away, +compared with something... With what? Pierre could not say, and he did +not try to determine for whom and for what he felt such particular +delight in sacrificing everything. He was not occupied with the +question of what to sacrifice for; the fact of sacrificing in itself +afforded him a new and joyous sensation. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +On the twenty-fourth of August the battle of the Shevardino +Redoubt was fought, on the twenty-fifth not a shot was fired by either +side, and on the twenty-sixth the battle of Borodino itself took +place. + +Why and how were the battles of Shevardino and Borodino given and +accepted? Why was the battle of Borodino fought? There was not the +least sense in it for either the French or the Russians. Its immediate +result for the Russians was, and was bound to be, that we were brought +nearer to the destruction of Moscow--which we feared more than +anything in the world; and for the French its immediate result was +that they were brought nearer to the destruction of their whole +army--which they feared more than anything in the world. What the +result must be was quite obvious, and yet Napoleon offered and Kutuzov +accepted that battle. + +If the commanders had been guided by reason, it would seem that it +must have been obvious to Napoleon that by advancing thirteen +hundred miles and giving battle with a probability of losing a quarter +of his army, he was advancing to certain destruction, and it must have +been equally clear to Kutuzov that by accepting battle and risking the +loss of a quarter of his army he would certainly lose Moscow. For +Kutuzov this was mathematically clear, as it is that if when playing +draughts I have one man less and go on exchanging, I shall certainly +lose, and therefore should not exchange. When my opponent has +sixteen men and I have fourteen, I am only one eighth weaker than +he, but when I have exchanged thirteen more men he will be three times +as strong as I am. + +Before the battle of Borodino our strength in proportion to the +French was about as five to six, but after that battle it was little +more than one to two: previously we had a hundred thousand against a +hundred and twenty thousand; afterwards little more than fifty +thousand against a hundred thousand. Yet the shrewd and experienced +Kutuzov accepted the battle, while Napoleon, who was said to be a +commander of genius, gave it, losing a quarter of his army and +lengthening his lines of communication still more. If it is said +that he expected to end the campaign by occupying Moscow as he had +ended a previous campaign by occupying Vienna, there is much +evidence to the contrary. Napoleon's historians themselves tell us +that from Smolensk onwards he wished to stop, knew the danger of his +extended position, and knew that the occupation of Moscow would not be +the end of the campaign, for he had seen at Smolensk the state in +which Russian towns were left to him, and had not received a single +reply to his repeated announcements of his wish to negotiate. + +In giving and accepting battle at Borodino, Kutuzov acted +involuntarily and irrationally. But later on, to fit what had +occurred, the historians provided cunningly devised evidence of the +foresight and genius the generals who, of all the blind tools of +history were the most enslaved and involuntary. + +The ancients have left us model heroic poems in which the heroes +furnish the whole interest of the story, and we are still unable to +accustom ourselves to the fact that for our epoch histories of that +kind are meaningless. + +On the other question, how the battle of Borodino and the +preceding battle of Shevardino were fought, there also exists a +definite and well-known, but quite false, conception. All the +historians describe the affair as follows: + +The Russian army, they say, in its retreat from Smolensk sought +out for itself the best position for a general engagement and found +such a position at Borodino. + +The Russians, they say, fortified this position in advance on the +left of the highroad (from Moscow to Smolensk) and almost at a right +angle to it, from Borodino to Utitsa, at the very place where the +battle was fought. + +In front of this position, they say, a fortified outpost was set +up on the Shevardino mound to observe the enemy. On the twenty-fourth, +we are told, Napoleon attacked this advanced post and took it, and, on +the twenty-sixth, attacked the whole Russian army, which was in +position on the field of Borodino. + +So the histories say, and it is all quite wrong, as anyone who cares +to look into the matter can easily convince himself. + +The Russians did not seek out the best position but, on the +contrary, during the retreat passed many positions better than +Borodino. They did not stop at any one of these positions because +Kutuzov did not wish to occupy a position he had not himself chosen, +because the popular demand for a battle had not yet expressed itself +strongly enough, and because Miloradovich had not yet arrived with the +militia, and for many other reasons. The fact is that other +positions they had passed were stronger, and that the position at +Borodino (the one where the battle was fought), far from being strong, +was no more a position than any other spot one might find in the +Russian Empire by sticking a pin into the map at hazard. + +Not only did the Russians not fortify the position on the field of +Borodino to the left of, and at a right angle to, the highroad (that +is, the position on which the battle took place), but never till the +twenty-fifth of August, 1812, did they think that a battle might be +fought there. This was shown first by the fact that there were no +entrenchments there by the twenty fifth and that those begun on the +twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth were not completed, and secondly, by the +position of the Shevardino Redoubt. That redoubt was quite senseless +in front of the position where the battle was accepted. Why was it +more strongly fortified than any other post? And why were all +efforts exhausted and six thousand men sacrificed to defend it till +late at night on the twenty-fourth? A Cossack patrol would have +sufficed to observe the enemy. Thirdly, as proof that the position +on which the battle was fought had not been foreseen and that the +Shevardino Redoubt was not an advanced post of that position, we +have the fact that up to the twenty-fifth, Barclay de Tolly and +Bagration were convinced that the Shevardino Redoubt was the left +flank of the position, and that Kutuzov himself in his report, written +in hot haste after the battle, speaks of the Shevardino Redoubt as the +left flank of the position. It was much later, when reports on the +battle of Borodino were written at leisure, that the incorrect and +extraordinary statement was invented (probably to justify the mistakes +of a commander in chief who had to be represented as infallible) +that the Shevardino Redoubt was an advanced post--whereas in reality +it was simply a fortified point on the left flank--and that the battle +of Borodino was fought by us on an entrenched position previously +selected, where as it was fought on a quite unexpected spot which +was almost unentrenched. + +The case was evidently this: a position was selected along the river +Kolocha--which crosses the highroad not at a right angle but at an +acute angle--so that the left flank was at Shevardino, the right flank +near the village of Novoe, and the center at Borodino at the +confluence of the rivers Kolocha and Voyna. + +To anyone who looks at the field of Borodino without thinking of how +the battle was actually fought, this position, protected by the +river Kolocha, presents itself as obvious for an army whose object was +to prevent an enemy from advancing along the Smolensk road to Moscow. + +Napoleon, riding to Valuevo on the twenty-fourth, did not see (as +the history books say he did) the position of the Russians from Utitsa +to Borodino (he could not have seen that position because it did not +exist), nor did he see an advanced post of the Russian army, but while +pursuing the Russian rearguard he came upon the left flank of the +Russian position--at the Shevardino Redoubt--and unexpectedly for +the Russians moved his army across the Kolocha. And the Russians, +not having time to begin a general engagement, withdrew their left +wing from the position they had intended to occupy and took up a new +position which had not been foreseen and was not fortified. By +crossing to the other side of the Kolocha to the left of the highroad, +Napoleon shifted the whole forthcoming battle from right to left +(looking from the Russian side) and transferred it to the plain +between Utitsa, Semenovsk, and Borodino--a plain no more +advantageous as a position than any other plain in Russia--and there +the whole battle of the twenty-sixth of August took place. + +Had Napoleon not ridden out on the evening of the twenty-fourth to +the Kolocha, and had he not then ordered an immediate attack on the +redoubt but had begun the attack next morning, no one would have +doubted that the Shevardino Redoubt was the left flank of our and +the battle would have taken place where we expected it. In that case +we should probably have defended the Shevardino Redoubt--our left +flank--still more obstinately. We should have attacked Napoleon in the +center or on the right, and the engagement would have taken place on +the twenty-fifth, in the position we intended and had fortified. But +as the attack on our left flank took place in the evening after the +retreat of our rear guard (that is, immediately after the fight at +Gridneva), and as the Russian commanders did not wish, or were not +in time, to begin a general engagement then on the evening of the +twenty-fourth, the first and chief action of the battle of Borodino +was already lost on the twenty-fourth, and obviously led to the loss +of the one fought on the twenty-sixth. + +After the loss of the Shevardino Redoubt, we found ourselves on +the morning of the twenty-fifth without a position for our left flank, +and were forced to bend it back and hastily entrench it where it +chanced to be. + +Not only was the Russian army on the twenty-sixth defended by +weak, unfinished entrenchments, but the disadvantage of that +position was increased by the fact that the Russian commanders--not +having fully realized what had happened, namely the loss of our +position on the left flank and the shifting of the whole field of +the forthcoming battle from right to left--maintained their extended +position from the village of Novoe to Utitsa, and consequently had +to move their forces from right to left during the battle. So it +happened that throughout the whole battle the Russians opposed the +entire French army launched against our left flank with but half as +many men. (Poniatowski's action against Utitsa, and Uvarov's on the +right flank against the French, were actions distinct from the main +course of the battle.) So the battle of Borodino did not take place at +all as (in an effort to conceal our commanders' mistakes even at the +cost of diminishing the glory due to the Russian army and people) it +has been described. The battle of Borodino was not fought on a +chosen and entrenched position with forces only slightly weaker than +those of the enemy, but, as a result of the loss of the Shevardino +Redoubt, the Russians fought the battle of Borodino on an open and +almost unentrenched position, with forces only half as numerous as the +French; that is to say, under conditions in which it was not merely +unthinkable to fight for ten hours and secure an indecisive result, +but unthinkable to keep an army even from complete disintegration +and flight. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +On the morning of the twenty-fifth Pierre was leaving Mozhaysk. At +the descent of the high steep hill, down which a winding road led +out of the town past the cathedral on the right, where a service was +being held and the bells were ringing, Pierre got out of his vehicle +and proceeded on foot. Behind him a cavalry regiment was coming down +the hill preceded by its singers. Coming up toward him was a train +of carts carrying men who had been wounded in the engagement the day +before. The peasant drivers, shouting and lashing their horses, kept +crossing from side to side. The carts, in each of which three or +four wounded soldiers were lying or sitting, jolted over the stones +that had been thrown on the steep incline to make it something like +a road. The wounded, bandaged with rags, with pale cheeks, +compressed lips, and knitted brows, held on to the sides of the +carts as they were jolted against one another. Almost all of them +stared with naive, childlike curiosity at Pierre's white hat and green +swallow-tail coat. + +Pierre's coachman shouted angrily at the convoy of wounded to keep +to one side of the road. The cavalry regiment, as it descended the +hill with its singers, surrounded Pierre's carriage and blocked the +road. Pierre stopped, being pressed against the side of the cutting in +which the road ran. The sunshine from behind the hill did not +penetrate into the cutting and there it was cold and damp, but above +Pierre's head was the bright August sunshine and the bells sounded +merrily. One of the carts with wounded stopped by the side of the road +close to Pierre. The driver in his bast shoes ran panting up to it, +placed a stone under one of its tireless hind wheels, and began +arranging the breech-band on his little horse. + +One of the wounded, an old soldier with a bandaged arm who was +following the cart on foot, caught hold of it with his sound hand +and turned to look at Pierre. + +"I say, fellow countryman! Will they set us down here or take us +on to Moscow?" he asked. + +Pierre was so deep in thought that he did not hear the question. +He was looking now at the cavalry regiment that had met the convoy +of wounded, now at the cart by which he was standing, in which two +wounded men were sitting and one was lying. One of those sitting up in +the cart had probably been wounded in the cheek. His whole head was +wrapped in rags and one cheek was swollen to the size of a baby's +head. His nose and mouth were twisted to one side. This soldier was +looking at the cathedral and crossing himself. Another, a young lad, a +fair-haired recruit as white as though there was no blood in his +thin face, looked at Pierre kindly, with a fixed smile. The third +lay prone so that his face was not visible. The cavalry singers were +passing close by: + + Ah lost, quite lost... is my head so keen, + Living in a foreign land. + +they sang their soldiers' dance song. + +As if responding to them but with a different sort of merriment, the +metallic sound of the bells reverberated high above and the hot rays +of the sun bathed the top of the opposite slope with yet another +sort of merriment. But beneath the slope, by the cart with the wounded +near the panting little nag where Pierre stood, it was damp, somber, +and sad. + +The soldier with the swollen cheek looked angrily at the cavalry +singers. + +"Oh, the coxcombs!" he muttered reproachfully. + +"It's not the soldiers only, but I've seen peasants today, too.... +The peasants--even they have to go," said the soldier behind the cart, +addressing Pierre with a sad smile. "No distinctions made nowadays.... +They want the whole nation to fall on them--in a word, it's Moscow! +They want to make an end of it." + +In spite of the obscurity of the soldier's words Pierre understood +what he wanted to say and nodded approval. + +The road was clear again; Pierre descended the hill and drove on. + +He kept looking to either side of the road for familiar faces, but +only saw everywhere the unfamiliar faces of various military men of +different branches of the service, who all looked with astonishment at +his white hat and green tail coat. + +Having gone nearly three miles he at last met an acquaintance and +eagerly addressed him. This was one of the head army doctors. He was +driving toward Pierre in a covered gig, sitting beside a young +surgeon, and on recognizing Pierre he told the Cossack who occupied +the driver's seat to pull up. + +"Count! Your excellency, how come you to be here?" asked the doctor. + +"Well, you know, I wanted to see..." + +"Yes, yes, there will be something to see...." + +Pierre got out and talked to the doctor, explaining his intention of +taking part in a battle. + +The doctor advised him to apply direct to Kutuzov. + +"Why should you be God knows where out of sight, during the battle?" +he said, exchanging glances with his young companion. "Anyhow his +Serene Highness knows you and will receive you graciously. That's what +you must do." + +The doctor seemed tired and in a hurry. + +"You think so?... Ah, I also wanted to ask you where our position is +exactly?" said Pierre. + +"The position?" repeated the doctor. "Well, that's not my line. +Drive past Tatarinova, a lot of digging is going on there. Go up the +hillock and you'll see." + +"Can one see from there?... If you would..." + +But the doctor interrupted him and moved toward his gig. + +"I would go with you but on my honor I'm up to here"--and he pointed +to his throat. "I'm galloping to the commander of the corps. How do +matters stand?... You know, Count, there'll be a battle tomorrow. +Out of an army of a hundred thousand we must expect at least twenty +thousand wounded, and we haven't stretchers, or bunks, or dressers, or +doctors enough for six thousand. We have ten thousand carts, but we +need other things as well--we must manage as best we can!" + +The strange thought that of the thousands of men, young and old, who +had stared with merry surprise at his hat (perhaps the very men he had +noticed), twenty thousand were inevitably doomed to wounds and death +amazed Pierre. + +"They may die tomorrow; why are they thinking of anything but +death?" And by some latent sequence of thought the descent of the +Mozhaysk hill, the carts with the wounded, the ringing bells, the +slanting rays of the sun, and the songs of the cavalrymen vividly +recurred to his mind. + +"The cavalry ride to battle and meet the wounded and do not for a +moment think of what awaits them, but pass by, winking at the wounded. +Yet from among these men twenty thousand are doomed to die, and they +wonder at my hat! Strange!" thought Pierre, continuing his way to +Tatarinova. + +In front of a landowner's house to the left of the road stood +carriages, wagons, and crowds of orderlies and sentinels. The +commander in chief was putting up there, but just when Pierre +arrived he was not in and hardly any of the staff were there--they had +gone to the church service. Pierre drove on toward Gorki. + +When he had ascended the hill and reached the little village street, +he saw for the first time peasant militiamen in their white shirts and +with crosses on their caps, who, talking and laughing loudly, animated +and perspiring, were at work on a huge knoll overgrown with grass to +the right of the road. + +Some of them were digging, others were wheeling barrowloads of earth +along planks, while others stood about doing nothing. + +Two officers were standing on the knoll, directing the men. On +seeing these peasants, who were evidently still amused by the +novelty of their position as soldiers, Pierre once more thought of the +wounded men at Mozhaysk and understood what the soldier had meant when +he said: "They want the whole nation to fall on them." The sight of +these bearded peasants at work on the battlefield, with their queer, +clumsy boots and perspiring necks, and their shirts opening from the +left toward the middle, unfastened, exposing their sunburned +collarbones, impressed Pierre more strongly with the solemnity and +importance of the moment than anything he had yet seen or heard. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +Pierre stepped out of his carriage and, passing the toiling +militiamen, ascended the knoll from which, according to the doctor, +the battlefield could be seen. + +It was about eleven o'clock. The sun shone somewhat to the left +and behind him and brightly lit up the enormous panorama which, rising +like an amphitheater, extended before him in the clear rarefied +atmosphere. + +From above on the left, bisecting that amphitheater, wound the +Smolensk highroad, passing through a village with a white church +some five hundred paces in front of the knoll and below it. This was +Borodino. Below the village the road crossed the river by a bridge +and, winding down and up, rose higher and higher to the village of +Valuevo visible about four miles away, where Napoleon was then +stationed. Beyond Valuevo the road disappeared into a yellowing forest +on the horizon. Far in the distance in that birch and fir forest to +the right of the road, the cross and belfry of the Kolocha Monastery +gleamed in the sun. Here and there over the whole of that blue +expanse, to right and left of the forest and the road, smoking +campfires could be seen and indefinite masses of troops--ours and +the enemy's. The ground to the right--along the course of the +Kolocha and Moskva rivers--was broken and hilly. Between the hollows +the villages of Bezubova and Zakharino showed in the distance. On +the left the ground was more level; there were fields of grain, and +the smoking ruins of Semenovsk, which had been burned down, could be +seen. + +All that Pierre saw was so indefinite that neither the left nor +the right side of the field fully satisfied his expectations. +Nowhere could he see the battlefield he had expected to find, but only +fields, meadows, troops, woods, the smoke of campfires, villages, +mounds, and streams; and try as he would he could descry no military +"position" in this place which teemed with life, nor could he even +distinguish our troops from the enemy's. + +"I must ask someone who knows," he thought, and addressed an officer +who was looking with curiosity at his huge unmilitary figure. + +"May I ask you," said Pierre, "what village that is in front?" + +"Burdino, isn't it?" said the officer, turning to his companion. + +"Borodino," the other corrected him. + +The officer, evidently glad of an opportunity for a talk, moved up +to Pierre. + +"Are those our men there?" Pierre inquired. + +"Yes, and there, further on, are the French," said the officer. +"There they are, there... you can see them." + +"Where? Where?" asked Pierre. + +"One can see them with the naked eye... Why, there!" + +The officer pointed with his hand to the smoke visible on the left +beyond the river, and the same stern and serious expression that +Pierre had noticed on many of the faces he had met came into his face. + +"Ah, those are the French! And over there?..." Pierre pointed to a +knoll on the left, near which some troops could be seen. + +"Those are ours." + +"Ah, ours! And there?..." Pierre pointed to another knoll in the +distance with a big tree on it, near a village that lay in a hollow +where also some campfires were smoking and something black was +visible. + +"That's his again," said the officer. (It was the Shevardino +Redoubt.) "It was ours yesterday, but now it is his." + +"Then how about our position?" + +"Our position?" replied the officer with a smile of satisfaction. "I +can tell you quite clearly, because I constructed nearly all our +entrenchments. There, you see? There's our center, at Borodino, just +there," and he pointed to the village in front of them with the +white church. "That's where one crosses the Kolocha. You see down +there where the rows of hay are lying in the hollow, there's the +bridge. That's our center. Our right flank is over there"--he +pointed sharply to the right, far away in the broken ground--"That's +where the Moskva River is, and we have thrown up three redoubts there, +very strong ones. The left flank..." here the officer paused. "Well, +you see, that's difficult to explain.... Yesterday our left flank +was there at Shevardino, you see, where the oak is, but now we have +withdrawn our left wing--now it is over there, do you see that village +and the smoke? That's Semenovsk, yes, there," he pointed to +Raevski's knoll. "But the battle will hardly be there. His having +moved his troops there is only a ruse; he will probably pass round +to the right of the Moskva. But wherever it may be, many a man will be +missing tomorrow!" he remarked. + +An elderly sergeant who had approached the officer while he was +giving these explanations had waited in silence for him to finish +speaking, but at this point, evidently not liking the officer's +remark, interrupted him. + +"Gabions must be sent for," said he sternly. + +The officer appeared abashed, as though he understood that one might +think of how many men would be missing tomorrow but ought not to speak +to speak of it. + +"Well, send number three company again," the officer replied +hurriedly. + +"And you, are you one of the doctors?" + +"No, I've come on my own," answered Pierre, and he went down the +hill again, passing the militiamen. + +"Oh, those damned fellows!" muttered the officer who followed him, +holding his nose as he ran past the men at work. + +"There they are... bringing her, coming... There they are... They'll +be here in a minute..." voices were suddenly heard saying; and +officers, soldiers, and militiamen began running forward along the +road. + +A church procession was coming up the hill from Borodino. First +along the dusty road came the infantry in ranks, bareheaded and with +arms reversed. From behind them came the sound of church singing. + +Soldiers and militiamen ran bareheaded past Pierre toward the +procession. + +"They are bringing her, our Protectress!... The Iberian Mother of +God!" someone cried. + +"The Smolensk Mother of God," another corrected him. + +The militiamen, both those who had been in the village and those who +had been at work on the battery, threw down their spades and ran to +meet the church procession. Following the battalion that marched along +the dusty road came priests in their vestments--one little old man +in a hood with attendants and singers. Behind them soldiers and +officers bore a large, dark-faced icon with an embossed metal cover. +This was the icon that had been brought from and had since accompanied +the army. Behind, before, and on both sides, crowds of militiamen with +bared heads walked, ran, and bowed to the ground. + +At the summit of the hill they stopped with the icon; the men who +had been holding it up by the linen bands attached to it were relieved +by others, the chanters relit their censers, and service began. The +hot rays of the sun beat down vertically and a fresh soft wind +played with the hair of the bared heads and with the ribbons +decorating the icon. The singing did not sound loud under the open +sky. An immense crowd of bareheaded officers, soldiers, and militiamen +surrounded the icon. Behind the priest and a chanter stood the +notabilities on a spot reserved for them. A bald general with +general with a St. George's Cross on his neck stood just behind the +priest's back, and without crossing himself (he was evidently a +German) patiently awaited the end of the service, which he +considered it necessary to hear to the end, probably to arouse the +patriotism of the Russian people. Another general stood in a martial +pose, crossing himself by shaking his hand in front of his chest while +looking about him. Standing among the crowd of peasants, Pierre +recognized several acquaintances among these notables, but did not +look at them--his whole attention was absorbed in watching the serious +expression on the faces of the crowd of soldiers and militiamen who +were all gazing eagerly at the icon. As soon as the tired chanters, +who were singing the service for the twentieth time that day, began +lazily and mechanically to sing: "Save from calamity Thy servants, O +Mother of God," and the priest and deacon chimed in: "For to Thee +under God we all flee as to an inviolable bulwark and protection," +there again kindled in all those faces the same expression of +consciousness of the solemnity of the impending moment that Pierre had +seen on the faces at the foot of the hill at Mozhaysk and +momentarily on many and many faces he had met that morning; and +heads were bowed more frequently and hair tossed back, and sighs and +the sound men made as they crossed themselves were heard. + +The crowd round the icon suddenly parted and pressed against Pierre. +Someone, a very important personage judging by the haste with which +way was made for him, was approaching the icon. + +It was Kutuzov, who had been riding round the position and on his +way back to Tatarinova had stopped where the service was being held. +Pierre recognized him at once by his peculiar figure, which +distinguished him from everybody else. + +With a long overcoat on his his exceedingly stout, +round-shouldered body, with uncovered white head and puffy face +showing the white ball of the eye he had lost, Kutuzov walked with +plunging, swaying gait into the crowd and stopped behind the priest. +He crossed himself with an accustomed movement, bent till he touched +the ground with his hand, and bowed his white head with a deep sigh. +Behind Kutuzov was Bennigsen and the suite. Despite the presence of +the commander in chief, who attracted the attention of all the +superior officers, the militiamen and soldiers continued their prayers +without looking at him. + +When the service was over, Kutuzov stepped up to the icon, sank +heavily to his knees, bowed to the ground, and for a long time tried +vainly to rise, but could not do so on account of his weakness and +weight. His white head twitched with the effort. At last he rose, +kissed the icon as a child does with naively pouting lips, and again +bowed till he touched the ground with his hand. The other generals +followed his example, then the officers, and after them with excited +faces, pressing on one another, crowding, panting, and pushing, +scrambled the soldiers and militiamen. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Staggering amid the crush, Pierre looked about him. + +"Count Peter Kirilovich! How did you get here?" said a voice. + +Pierre looked round. Boris Drubetskoy, brushing his knees with his +hand (he had probably soiled them when he, too, had knelt before the +icon), came up to him smiling. Boris was elegantly dressed, with a +slightly martial touch appropriate to a campaign. He wore a long +coat and like Kutuzov had a whip slung across his shoulder. + +Meanwhile Kutuzov had reached the village and seated himself in +the shade of the nearest house, on a bench which one Cossack had run +to fetch and another had hastily covered with a rug. An immense and +brilliant suite surrounded him. + +The icon was carried further, accompanied by the throng. Pierre +stopped some thirty paces from Kutuzov, talking to Boris. + +He explained his wish to be present at the battle and to see the +position. + +"This is what you must do," said Boris. "I will do the honors of the +camp to you. You will see everything best from where Count Bennigsen +will be. I am in attendance on him, you know; I'll mention it to +him. But if you want to ride round the position, come along with us. +We are just going to the left flank. Then when we get back, do spend +the night with me and we'll arrange a game of cards. Of course you +know Dmitri Sergeevich? Those are his quarters," and he pointed to the +third house in the village of Gorki. + +"But I should like to see the right flank. They say it's very +strong," said Pierre. "I should like to start from the Moskva River +and ride round the whole position." + +"Well, you can do that later, but the chief thing is the left +flank." + +"Yes, yes. But where is Prince Bolkonski's regiment? Can you point +it out to me?" + +"Prince Andrew's? We shall pass it and I'll take you to him." + +"What about the left flank?" asked Pierre + +"To tell you the truth, between ourselves, God only knows what state +our left flank is in," said Boris confidentially lowering his voice. +"It is not at all what Count Bennigsen intended. He meant to fortify +that knoll quite differently, but..." Boris shrugged his shoulders, +"his Serene Highness would not have it, or someone persuaded him. +You see..." but Boris did not finish, for at that moment Kaysarov, +Kutuzov's adjutant, came up to Pierre. "Ah, Kaysarov!" said Boris, +addressing him with an unembarrassed smile, "I was just trying to +explain our position to the count. It is amazing how his Serene +Highness could so the intentions of the French!" + +"You mean the left flank?" asked Kaysarov. + +"Yes, exactly; the left flank is now extremely strong." + +Though Kutuzov had dismissed all unnecessary men from the staff, +Boris had contrived to remain at headquarters after the changes. He +had established himself with Count Bennigsen, who, like all on whom +Boris had been in attendance, considered young Prince Drubetskoy an +invaluable man. + +In the higher command there were two sharply defined parties: +Kutuzov's party and that of Bennigsen, the chief of staff. Boris +belonged to the latter and no one else, while showing servile +respect to Kutuzov, could so create an impression that the old +fellow was not much good and that Bennigsen managed everything. Now +the decisive moment of battle had come when Kutuzov would be destroyed +and the power pass to Bennigsen, or even if Kutuzov won the battle +it would be felt that everything was done by Bennigsen. In any case +many great rewards would have to be given for tomorrow's action, and +new men would come to the front. So Boris was full of nervous vivacity +all day. + +After Kaysarov, others whom Pierre knew came up to him, and he had +not time to reply to all the questions about Moscow that were showered +upon him, or to listen to all that was told him. The faces all +expressed animation and apprehension, but it seemed to Pierre that the +cause of the excitement shown in some of these faces lay chiefly in +questions of personal success; his mind, however, was occupied by +the different expression he saw on other faces--an expression that +spoke not of personal matters but of the universal questions of life +and death. Kutuzov noticed Pierre's figure and the group gathered +round him. + +"Call him to me," said Kutuzov. + +An adjutant told Pierre of his Serene Highness' wish, and Pierre +went toward Kutuzov's bench. But a militiaman got there before him. It +was Dolokhov. + +"How did that fellow get here?" asked Pierre. + +"He's a creature that wriggles in anywhere!" was the answer. "He has +been degraded, you know. Now he wants to bob up again. He's been +proposing some scheme or other and has crawled into the enemy's picket +line at night.... He's a brave fellow." + +Pierre took off his hat and bowed respectfully to Kutuzov. + +"I concluded that if I reported to your Serene Highness you might +send me away or say that you knew what I was reporting, but then I +shouldn't lose anything..." Dolokhov was saying. + +"Yes, yes." + +"But if I were right, I should be rendering a service to my +Fatherland for which I am ready to die." + +"Yes, yes." + +"And should your Serene Highness require a man who will not spare +his skin, please think of me.... Perhaps I may prove useful to your +Serene Highness." + +"Yes... Yes..." Kutuzov repeated, his laughing eye narrowing more +and more as he looked at Pierre. + +Just then Boris, with his courtierlike adroitness, stepped up to +Pierre's side near Kutuzov and in a most natural manner, without +raising his voice, said to Pierre, as though continuing an interrupted +conversation: + +"The militia have put on clean white shirts to be ready to die. What +heroism, Count!" + +Boris evidently said this to Pierre in order to be overheard by +his Serene Highness. He knew Kutuzov's attention would be caught by +those words, and so it was. + +"What are you saying about the militia?" he asked Boris. + +"Preparing for tomorrow, your Serene Highness--for death--they +have put on clean shirts." + +"Ah... a wonderful, a matchless people!" said Kutuzov; and he closed +his eyes and swayed his head. "A matchless people!" he repeated with a +sigh. + +"So you want to smell gunpowder?" he said to Pierre. "Yes, it's a +pleasant smell. I have the honor to be one of your wife's adorers. +Is she well? My quarters are at your service." + +And as often happens with old people, Kutuzov began looking about +absent-mindedly as if forgetting all he wanted to say or do. + +Then, evidently remembering what he wanted, he beckoned to Andrew +Kaysarov, his adjutant's brother. + +"Those verses... those verses of Marin's... how do they go, eh? +Those he wrote about Gerakov: 'Lectures for the corps inditing'... +Recite them, recite them!" said he, evidently preparing to laugh. + +Kaysarov recited.... Kutuzov smilingly nodded his head to the rhythm +of the verses. + +When Pierre had left Kutuzov, Dolokhov came up to him and took his +hand. + +"I am very glad to meet you here, Count," he said aloud, +regardless of the presence of strangers and in a particularly resolute +and solemn tone. "On the eve of a day when God alone knows who of us +is fated to survive, I am glad of this opportunity to tell you that +I regret the misunderstandings that occurred between us and should +wish you not to have any ill feeling for me. I beg you to forgive me." + +Pierre looked at Dolokhov with a smile, not knowing what to say to +him. With tears in his eyes Dolokhov embraced Pierre and kissed him. + +Boris said a few words to his general, and Count Bennigsen turned to +Pierre and proposed that he should ride with him along the line. + +"It will interest you," said he. + +"Yes, very much," replied Pierre. + +Half an hour later Kutuzov left for Tatarinova, and Bennigsen and +his suite, with Pierre among them, set out on their ride along the +line. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +From Gorki, Bennigsen descended the highroad to the bridge which, +when they had looked it from the hill, the officer had pointed out +as being the center of our position and where rows of fragrant +new-mown hay lay by the riverside. They rode across that bridge into +the village of Borodino and thence turned to the left, passing an +enormous number of troops and guns, and came to a high knoll where +militiamen were digging. This was the redoubt, as yet unnamed, which +afterwards became known as the Raevski Redoubt, or the Knoll +Battery, but Pierre paid no special attention to it. He did not know +that it would become more memorable to him than any other spot on +the plain of Borodino. + +They then crossed the hollow to Semenovsk, where the soldiers were +dragging away the last logs from the huts and barns. Then they rode +downhill and uphill, across a ryefield trodden and beaten down as if +by hail, following a track freshly made by the artillery over the +furrows of the plowed land, and reached some fleches* which were still +being dug. + + +*A kind of entrenchment. + + +At the fleches Bennigsen stopped and began looking at the Shevardino +Redoubt opposite, which had been ours the day before and where several +horsemen could be descried. The officers said that either Napoleon +or Murat was there, and they all gazed eagerly at this little group of +horsemen. Pierre also looked at them, trying to guess which of the +scarcely discernible figures was Napoleon. At last those mounted men +rode away from the mound and disappeared. + +Bennigsen spoke to a general who approached him, and began +explaining the whole position of our troops. Pierre listened to him, +straining each faculty to understand the essential points of the +impending battle, but was mortified to feel that his mental capacity +was inadequate for the task. He could make nothing of it. Bennigsen +stopped speaking and, noticing that Pierre was listening, suddenly +said to him: + +"I don't think this interests you?" + +"On the contrary it's very interesting!" replied Pierre not quite +truthfully. + +From the fleches they rode still farther to the left, along a road +winding through a thick, low-growing birch wood. In the middle of +the wood a brown hare with white feet sprang out and, scared by the +tramp of the many horses, grew so confused that it leaped along the +road in front of them for some time, arousing general attention and +laughter, and only when several voices shouted at it did it dart to +one side and disappear in the thicket. After going through the wood +for about a mile and a half they came out on a glade where troops of +Tuchkov's corps were stationed to defend the left flank. + +Here, at the extreme left flank, Bennigsen talked a great deal and +with much heat, and, as it seemed to Pierre, gave orders of great +military importance. In front of Tuchkov's troops was some high ground +not occupied by troops. Bennigsen loudly criticized this mistake, +saying that it was madness to leave a height which commanded the +country around unoccupied and to place troops below it. Some of the +generals expressed the same opinion. One in particular declared with +martial heat that they were put there to be slaughtered. Bennigsen +on his own authority ordered the troops to occupy the high ground. +This disposition on the left flank increased Pierre's doubt of his own +capacity to understand military matters. Listening to Bennigsen and +the generals criticizing the position of the troops behind the hill, +he quite understood them and shared their opinion, but for that very +reason he could not understand how the man who put them there behind +the hill could have made so gross and palpable a blunder. + +Pierre did not know that these troops were not, as Bennigsen +supposed, put there to defend the position, but were in a concealed +position as an ambush, that they should not be seen and might be +able to strike an approaching enemy unexpectedly. Bennigsen did not +know this and moved the troops forward according to his own ideas +without mentioning the matter to the commander in chief. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +On that bright evening of August 25, Prince Andrew lay leaning on +his elbow in a broken-down shed in the village of Knyazkovo at the +further end of his regiment's encampment. Through a gap in the +broken wall he could see, beside the wooden fence, a row of thirty +year-old birches with their lower branches lopped off, a field on +which shocks of oats were standing, and some bushes near which rose +the smoke of campfires--the soldiers' kitchens. + +Narrow and burdensome and useless to anyone as his life now seemed +to him, Prince Andrew on the eve of battle felt agitated and irritable +as he had done seven years before at Austerlitz. + +He had received and given the orders for next day's battle and had +nothing more to do. But his thoughts--the simplest, clearest, and +therefore most terrible thoughts--would give him no peace. He knew +that tomorrow's battle would be the most terrible of all he had +taken part in, and for the first time in his life the possibility of +death presented itself to him--not in relation to any worldly matter +or with reference to its effect on others, but simply in relation to +himself, to his own soul--vividly, plainly, terribly, and almost as +a certainty. And from the height of this perception all that had +previously tormented and preoccupied him suddenly became illumined +by a cold white light without shadows, without perspective, without +distinction of outline. All life appeared to him like magic-lantern +pictures at which he had long been gazing by artificial light +through a glass. Now he suddenly saw those badly daubed pictures in +clear daylight and without a glass. "Yes, yes! There they are, those +false images that agitated, enraptured, and tormented me," said he +to himself, passing in review the principal pictures of the magic +lantern of life and regarding them now in the cold white daylight of +his clear perception of death. "There they are, those rudely painted +figures that once seemed splendid and mysterious. Glory, the good of +society, love of a woman, the Fatherland itself--how important these +pictures appeared to me, with what profound meaning they seemed to +be filled! And it is all so simple, pale, and crude in the cold +white light of this morning which I feel is dawning for me." The three +great sorrows of his life held his attention in particular: his love +for a woman, his father's death, and the French invasion which had +overrun half Russia. "Love... that little girl who seemed to me +brimming over with mystic forces! Yes, indeed, I loved her. I made +romantic plans of love and happiness with her! Oh, what a boy I +was!" he said aloud bitterly. "Ah me! I believed in some ideal love +which was to keep her faithful to me for the whole year of my absence! +Like the gentle dove in the fable she was to pine apart from me.... +But it was much simpler really.... It was all very simple and +horrible." + +"When my father built Bald Hills he thought the place was his: his +land, his air, his peasants. But Napoleon came and swept him aside, +unconscious of his existence, as he might brush a chip from his +path, and his Bald Hills and his whole life fell to pieces. Princess +Mary says it is a trial sent from above. What is the trial for, when +he is not here and will never return? He is not here! For whom then is +the trial intended? The Fatherland, the destruction of Moscow! And +tomorrow I shall be killed, perhaps not even by a Frenchman but by one +of our own men, by a soldier discharging a musket close to my ear as +one of them did yesterday, and the French will come and take me by +head and heels and fling me into a hole that I may not stink under +their noses, and new conditions of life will arise, which will seem +quite ordinary to others and about which I shall know nothing. I shall +not exist..." + +He looked at the row of birches shining in the sunshine, with +their motionless green and yellow foliage and white bark. "To die... +to be killed tomorrow... That I should not exist... That all this +should still be, but no me...." + +And the birches with their light and shade, the curly clouds, the +smoke of the campfires, and all that was around him changed and seemed +terrible and menacing. A cold shiver ran down his spine. He rose +quickly, went out of the shed, and began to walk about. + +After he had returned, voices were heard outside the shed. "Who's +that?" he cried. + +The red-nosed Captain Timokhin, formerly Dolokhov's squadron +commander, but now from lack of officers a battalion commander, +shyly entered the shed followed by an adjutant and the regimental +paymaster. + +Prince Andrew rose hastily, listened to the business they had come +about, gave them some further instructions, and was about to dismiss +them when he heard a familiar, lisping, voice behind the shed. + +"Devil take it!" said the voice of a man stumbling over something. + +Prince Andrew looked out of the shed and saw Pierre, who had tripped +over a pole on the ground and had nearly fallen, coming his way. It +was unpleasant to Prince Andrew to meet people of his own set in +general, and Pierre especially, for he reminded him of all the painful +moments of his last visit to Moscow. + +"You? What a surprise!" said he. "What brings you here? This is +unexpected!" + +As he said this his eyes and face expressed more than coldness--they +expressed hostility, which Pierre noticed at once. He had approached +the shed full of animation, but on seeing Prince Andrew's face he felt +constrained and ill at ease. + +"I have come... simply... you know... come... it interests me," said +Pierre, who had so often that day senselessly repeated that word +"interesting." "I wish to see the battle." + +"Oh yes, and what do the Masonic brothers say about war? How would +they stop it?" said Prince Andrew sarcastically. "Well, and how's +Moscow? And my people? Have they reached Moscow at last?" he asked +seriously. + +"Yes, they have. Julie Drubetskaya told me so. I went to see them, +but missed them. They have gone to your estate near Moscow." + + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +The officers were about to take leave, but Prince Andrew, apparently +reluctant to be left alone with his friend, asked them to stay and +have tea. Seats were brought in and so was the tea. The officers gazed +with surprise at Pierre's huge stout figure and listened to his talk +of Moscow and the position of our army, round which he had ridden. +Prince Andrew remained silent, and his expression was so forbidding +that Pierre addressed his remarks chiefly to the good-natured +battalion commander. + +"So you understand the whole position of our troops?" Prince +Andrew interrupted him. + +"Yes--that is, how do you mean?" said Pierre. "Not being a +military man I can't say I have understood it fully, but I +understand the general position." + +"Well, then, you know more than anyone else, be it who it may," said +Prince Andrew. + +"Oh!" said Pierre, looking over his spectacles in perplexity at +Prince Andrew. "Well, and what do think of Kutuzov's appointment?" +he asked. + +"I was very glad of his appointment, that's all I know," replied +Prince Andrew. + +"And tell me your opinion of Barclay de Tolly. In Moscow they are +saying heaven knows what about him.... What do you think of him?" + +"Ask them," replied Prince Andrew, indicating the officers. + +Pierre looked at Timokhin with the condescendingly interrogative +smile with which everybody involuntarily addressed that officer. + +"We see light again, since his Serenity has been appointed, your +excellency," said Timokhin timidly, and continually turning to +glance at his colonel. + +"Why so?" asked Pierre. + +"Well, to mention only firewood and fodder, let me inform you. +Why, when we were retreating from Sventsyani we dare not touch a stick +or a wisp of hay or anything. You see, we were going away, so he would +get it all; wasn't it so, your excellency?" and again Timokhin +turned to the prince. "But we daren't. In our regiment two officers +were court-martialed for that kind of thing. But when his Serenity +took command everything became straight forward. Now we see light..." + +"Then why was it forbidden?" + +Timokhin looked about in confusion, not knowing what or how to +answer such a question. Pierre put the same question to Prince Andrew. + +"Why, so as not to lay waste the country we were abandoning to the +enemy," said Prince Andrew with venomous irony. "It is very sound: one +can't permit the land to be pillaged and accustom the troops to +marauding. At Smolensk too he judged correctly that the French might +outflank us, as they had larger forces. But he could not understand +this," cried Prince Andrew in a shrill voice that seemed to escape him +involuntarily: "he could not understand that there, for the first +time, we were fighting for Russian soil, and that there was a spirit +in the men such as I had never seen before, that we had held the +French for two days, and that that success had increased our +strength tenfold. He ordered us to retreat, and all our efforts and +losses went for nothing. He had no thought of betraying us, he tried +to do the best he could, he thought out everything, and that is why he +is unsuitable. He is unsuitable now, just because he plans out +everything very thoroughly and accurately as every German has to. +How can I explain?... Well, say your father has a German valet, and he +is a splendid valet and satisfies your father's requirements better +than you could, then it's all right to let him serve. But if your +father is mortally sick you'll send the valet away and attend to +your father with your own unpracticed, awkward hands, and will +soothe him better than a skilled man who is a stranger could. So it +has been with Barclay. While Russia was well, a foreigner could +serve her and be a splendid minister; but as soon as she is in +danger she needs one of her own kin. But in your Club they have been +making him out a traitor! They slander him as a traitor, and the +only result will be that afterwards, ashamed of their false +accusations, they will make him out a hero or a genius instead of a +traitor, and that will be still more unjust. He is an honest and +very punctilious German." + +"And they say he's a skillful commander," rejoined Pierre. + +"I don't understand what is meant by 'a skillful commander,'" +replied Prince Andrew ironically. + +"A skillful commander?" replied Pierre. "Why, one who foresees all +contingencies... and foresees the adversary's intentions." + +"But that's impossible," said Prince Andrew as if it were a matter +settled long ago. + +Pierre looked at him in surprise. + +"And yet they say that war is like a game of chess?" he remarked. + +"Yes," replied Prince Andrew, "but with this little difference, that +in chess you may think over each move as long as you please and are +not limited for time, and with this difference too, that a knight is +always stronger than a pawn, and two pawns are always stronger than +one, while in war a battalion is sometimes stronger than a division +and sometimes weaker than a company. The relative strength of bodies +of troops can never be known to anyone. Believe me," he went on, "if +things depended on arrangements made by the staff, I should be there +making arrangements, but instead of that I have the honor to serve +here in the regiment with these gentlemen, and I consider that on us +tomorrow's battle will depend and not on those others.... Success +never depends, and never will depend, on position, or equipment, or +even on numbers, and least of all on position." + +"But on what then?" + +"On the feeling that is in me and in him," he pointed to Timokhin, +"and in each soldier." + +Prince Andrew glanced at Timokhin, who looked at his commander in +alarm and bewilderment. In contrast to his former reticent taciturnity +Prince Andrew now seemed excited. He could apparently not refrain from +expressing the thoughts that had suddenly occurred to him. + +"A battle is won by those who firmly resolve to win it! Why did we +lose the battle at Austerlitz? The French losses were almost equal +to ours, but very early we said to ourselves that we were losing the +battle, and we did lose it. And we said so because we had nothing to +fight for there, we wanted to get away from the battlefield as soon as +we could. 'We've lost, so let us run,' and we ran. If we had not +said that till the evening, heaven knows what might not have happened. +But tomorrow we shan't say it! You talk about our position, the left +flank weak and the right flank too extended," he went on. "That's +all nonsense, there's nothing of the kind. But what awaits us +tomorrow? A hundred million most diverse chances which will be decided +on the instant by the fact that our men or theirs run or do not run, +and that this man or that man is killed, but all that is being done at +present is only play. The fact is that those men with whom you have +ridden round the position not only do not help matters, but hinder. +They are only concerned with their own petty interests." + +"At such a moment?" said Pierre reproachfully. + +"At such a moment!" Prince Andrew repeated. "To them it is only a +moment affording opportunities to undermine a rival and obtain an +extra cross or ribbon. For me tomorrow means this: a Russian army of a +hundred thousand and a French army of a hundred thousand have met to +fight, and the thing is that these two hundred thousand men will fight +and the side that fights more fiercely and spares itself least will +win. And if you like I will tell you that whatever happens and +whatever muddles those at the top may make, we shall win tomorrow's +battle. Tomorrow, happen what may, we shall win!" + +"There now, your excellency! That's the truth, the real truth," said +Timokhin. "Who would spare himself now? The soldiers in my +battalion, believe me, wouldn't drink their vodka! 'It's not the day +for that!' they say." + +All were silent. The officers rose. Prince Andrew went out of the +shed with them, giving final orders to the adjutant. After they had +gone Pierre approached Prince Andrew and was about to start a +conversation when they heard the clatter of three horses' hoofs on the +road not far from the shed, and looking in that direction Prince +Andrew recognized Wolzogen and Clausewitz accompanied by a Cossack. +They rode close by continuing to converse, and Prince Andrew +involuntarily heard these words: + +"Der Krieg muss in Raum verlegt werden. Der Ansicht kann ich nicht +genug Preis geben,"* said one of them. + + +*"The war must be extended widely. I cannot sufficiently commend +that view." + + +"Oh, ja," said the other, "der Zweck ist nur den Feind zu schwachen, +so kann man gewiss nicht den Verlust der Privat-Personen in Achtung +nehmen."* + + +*"Oh, yes, the only aim is to weaken the enemy, so of course one +cannot take into account the loss of private individuals." + + +"Oh, no," agreed the other. + +"Extend widely!" said Prince Andrew with an angry snort, when they +had ridden past. "In that 'extend' were my father, son, and sister, at +Bald Hills. That's all the same to him! That's what I was saying to +you--those German gentlemen won't win the battle tomorrow but will +only make all the mess they can, because they have nothing in their +German heads but theories not worth an empty eggshell and haven't in +their hearts the one thing needed tomorrow--that which Timokhin has. +They have yielded up all Europe to him, and have now come to teach us. +Fine teachers!" and again his voice grew shrill. + +"So you think we shall win tomorrow's battle?" asked Pierre. + +"Yes, yes," answered Prince Andrew absently. "One thing I would do +if I had the power," he began again, "I would not take prisoners. +Why take prisoners? It's chivalry! The French have destroyed my home +and are on their way to destroy Moscow, they have outraged and are +outraging me every moment. They are my enemies. In my opinion they are +all criminals. And so thinks Timokhin and the whole army. They +should be executed! Since they are my foes they cannot be my +friends, whatever may have been said at Tilsit." + +"Yes, yes," muttered Pierre, looking with shining eyes at Prince +Andrew. "I quite agree with you!" + +The question that had perturbed Pierre on the Mozhaysk hill and +all that day now seemed to him quite clear and completely solved. He +now understood the whole meaning and importance of this war and of the +impending battle. All he had seen that day, all the significant and +stern expressions on the faces he had seen in passing, were lit up for +him by a new light. He understood that latent heat (as they say in +physics) of patriotism which was present in all these men he had seen, +and this explained to him why they all prepared for death calmly, +and as it were lightheartedly. + +"Not take prisoners," Prince Andrew continued: "That by itself would +quite change the whole war and make it less cruel. As it is we have +played at war--that's what's vile! We play at magnanimity and all that +stuff. Such magnanimity and sensibility are like the magnanimity and +sensibility of a lady who faints when she sees a calf being killed: +she is so kind-hearted that she can't look at blood, but enjoys eating +the calf served up with sauce. They talk to us of the rules of war, of +chivalry, of flags of truce, of mercy to the unfortunate and so on. +It's all rubbish! I saw chivalry and flags of truce in 1805; they +humbugged us and we humbugged them. They plunder other people's +houses, issue false paper money, and worst of all they kill my +children and my father, and then talk of rules of war and +magnanimity to foes! Take no prisoners, but kill and be killed! He who +has come to this as I have through the same sufferings..." + +Prince Andrew, who had thought it was all the same to him whether or +not Moscow was taken as Smolensk had been, was suddenly checked in his +speech by an unexpected cramp in his throat. He paced up and down a +few times in silence, but his eyes glittered feverishly and his lips +quivered as he began speaking. + +"If there was none of this magnanimity in war, we should go to war +only when it was worth while going to certain death, as now. Then +there would not be war because Paul Ivanovich had offended Michael +Ivanovich. And when there was a war, like this one, it would be war! +And then the determination of the troops would be quite different. +Then all these Westphalians and Hessians whom Napoleon is leading +would not follow him into Russia, and we should not go to fight in +Austria and Prussia without knowing why. War is not courtesy but the +most horrible thing in life; and we ought to understand that and not +play at war. We ought to accept this terrible necessity sternly and +seriously. It all lies in that: get rid of falsehood and let war be +war and not a game. As it is now, war is the favorite pastime of the +idle and frivolous. The military calling is the most highly honored. + +"But what is war? What is needed for success in warfare? What are +the habits of the military? The aim of war is murder; the methods of +war are spying, treachery, and their encouragement, the ruin of a +country's inhabitants, robbing them or stealing to provision the army, +and fraud and falsehood termed military craft. The habits of the +military class are the absence of freedom, that is, discipline, +idleness, ignorance, cruelty, debauchery, and drunkenness. And in +spite of all this it is the highest class, respected by everyone. +All the kings, except the Chinese, wear military uniforms, and he +who kills most people receives the highest rewards. + +"They meet, as we shall meet tomorrow, to murder one another; they +kill and maim tens of thousands, and then have thanksgiving services +for having killed so many people (they even exaggerate the number), +and they announce a victory, supposing that the more people they +have killed the greater their achievement. How does God above look +at them and hear them?" exclaimed Prince Andrew in a shrill, +piercing voice. "Ah, my friend, it has of late become hard for me to +live. I see that I have begun to understand too much. And it doesn't +do for man to taste of the tree of knowledge of good and evil.... +Ah, well, it's not for long!" he added. + +"However, you're sleepy, and it's time for me to sleep. Go back to +Gorki!" said Prince Andrew suddenly. + +"Oh no!" Pierre replied, looking at Prince Andrew with frightened, +compassionate eyes. + +"Go, go! Before a battle one must have one's sleep out," repeated +Prince Andrew. + +He came quickly up to Pierre and embraced and kissed him. +"Good-by, be off!" he shouted. "Whether we meet again or not..." +and turning away hurriedly he entered the shed. + +It was already dark, and Pierre could not make out whether the +expression of Prince Andrew's face was angry or tender. + +For some time he stood in silence considering whether he should +follow him or go away. "No, he does not want it!" Pierre concluded. +"And I know that this is our last meeting!" He sighed deeply and +rode back to Gorki. + +On re-entering the shed Prince Andrew lay down on a rug, but he +could not sleep. + +He closed his eyes. One picture succeeded another in his +imagination. On one of them he dwelt long and joyfully. He vividly +recalled an evening in Petersburg. Natasha with animated and excited +face was telling him how she had gone to look for mushrooms the +previous summer and had lost her way in the big forest. She +incoherently described the depths of the forest, her feelings, and a +talk with a beekeeper she met, and constantly interrupted her story to +say: "No, I can't! I'm not telling it right; no, you don't +understand," though he encouraged her by saying that he did +understand, and he really had understood all she wanted to say. But +Natasha was not satisfied with her own words: she felt that they did +not convey the passionately poetic feeling she had experienced that +day and wished to convey. "He was such a delightful old man, and it +was so dark in the forest... and he had such kind... No, I can't +describe it," she had said, flushed and excited. Prince Andrew +smiled now the same happy smile as then when he had looked into her +eyes. "I understood her," he thought. "I not only understood her, +but it was just that inner, spiritual force, that sincerity, that +frankness of soul--that very soul of hers which seemed to be +fettered by her body--it was that soul I loved in her... loved so +strongly and happily..." and suddenly he remembered how his love had +ended. "He did not need anything of that kind. He neither saw nor +understood anything of the sort. He only saw in her a pretty and fresh +young girl, with whom he did not deign to unite his fate. And I?... +and he is still alive and gay!" + +Prince Andrew jumped up as if someone had burned him, and again +began pacing up and down in front of the shed. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +On August 25, the eve of the battle of Borodino, M. de Beausset, +prefect of the French Emperor's palace, arrived at Napoleon's quarters +at Valuevo with Colonel Fabvier, the former from Paris and the +latter from Madrid. + +Donning his court uniform, M. de Beausset ordered a box he had +brought for the Emperor to be carried before him and entered the first +compartment of Napoleon's tent, where he began opening the box while +conversing with Napoleon's aides-de-camp who surrounded him. + +Fabvier, not entering the tent, remained at the entrance talking +to some generals of his acquaintance. + +The Emperor Napoleon had not yet left his bedroom and was +finishing his toilet. Slightly snorting and grunting, he presented now +his back and now his plump hairy chest to the brush with which his +valet was rubbing him down. Another valet, with his finger over the +mouth of a bottle, was sprinkling Eau de Cologne on the Emperor's +pampered body with an expression which seemed to say that he alone +knew where and how much Eau de Cologne should be sprinkled. Napoleon's +short hair was wet and matted on the forehead, but his face, though +puffy and yellow, expressed physical satisfaction. "Go on, harder, +go on!" he muttered to the valet who was rubbing him, slightly +twitching and grunting. An aide-de-camp, who had entered the bedroom +to report to the Emperor the number of prisoners taken in +yesterday's action, was standing by the door after delivering his +message, awaiting permission to withdraw. Napoleon, frowning, looked +at him from under his brows. + +"No prisoners!" said he, repeating the aide-de-camp's words. "They +are forcing us to exterminate them. So much the worse for the +Russian army.... Go on... harder, harder!" he muttered, hunching his +back and presenting his fat shoulders. + +"All right. Let Monsieur de Beausset enter, and Fabvier too," he +said, nodding to the aide-de-camp. + +"Yes, sire," and the aide-de-camp disappeared through the door of +the tent. + +Two valets rapidly dressed His Majesty, and wearing the blue uniform +of the Guards he went with firm quick steps to the reception room. + +De Beausset's hands meanwhile were busily engaged arranging the +present he had brought from the Empress, on two chairs directly in +front of the entrance. But Napoleon had dressed and come out with such +unexpected rapidity that he had not time to finish arranging the +surprise. + +Napoleon noticed at once what they were about and guessed that +they were not ready. He did not wish to deprive them of the pleasure +of giving him a surprise, so he pretended not to see de Beausset and +called Fabvier to him, listening silently and with a stern frown to +what Fabvier told him of the heroism and devotion of his troops +fighting at Salamanca, at the other end of Europe, with but one +thought--to be worthy of their Emperor--and but one fear--to fail to +please him. The result of that battle had been deplorable. Napoleon +made ironic remarks during Fabvier's account, as if he had not +expected that matters could go otherwise in his absence. + +"I must make up for that in Moscow," said Napoleon. "I'll see you +later," he added, and summoned de Beausset, who by that time had +prepared the surprise, having placed something on the chairs and +covered it with a cloth. + +De Beausset bowed low, with that courtly French bow which only the +old retainers of the Bourbons knew how to make, and approached him, +presenting an envelope. + +Napoleon turned to him gaily and pulled his ear. + +"You have hurried here. I am very glad. Well, what is Paris saying?" +he asked, suddenly changing his former stern expression for a most +cordial tone. + +"Sire, all Paris regrets your absence," replied de Beausset as was +proper. + +But though Napoleon knew that de Beausset had to say something of +this kind, and though in his lucid moments he knew it was untrue, he +was pleased to hear it from him. Again he honored him by touching +his ear. + +"I am very sorry to have made you travel so far," said he. + +"Sire, I expected nothing less than to find you at the gates of +Moscow," replied de Beausset. + +Napoleon smiled and, lifting his head absentmindedly, glanced to the +right. An aide-de-camp approached with gliding steps and offered him a +gold snuffbox, which he took. + +"Yes, it has happened luckily for you," he said, raising the open +snuffbox to his nose. "You are fond of travel, and in three days you +will see Moscow. You surely did not expect to see that Asiatic +capital. You will have a pleasant journey." + +De Beausset bowed gratefully at this regard for his taste for travel +(of which he had not till then been aware). + +"Ha, what's this?" asked Napoleon, noticing that all the courtiers +were looking at something concealed under a cloth. + +With courtly adroitness de Beausset half turned and without +turning his back to the Emperor retired two steps, twitching off the +cloth at the same time, and said: + +"A present to Your Majesty from the Empress." + +It was a portrait, painted in bright colors by Gerard, of the son +borne to Napoleon by the daughter of the Emperor of Austria, the boy +whom for some reason everyone called "The King of Rome." + +A very pretty curly-headed boy with a look of the Christ in the +Sistine Madonna was depicted playing at stick and ball. The ball +represented the terrestrial globe and the stick in his other hand a +scepter. + +Though it was not clear what the artist meant to express by +depicting the so-called King of Rome spiking the earth with a stick, +the allegory apparently seemed to Napoleon, as it had done to all +who had seen it in Paris, quite clear and very pleasing. + +"The King of Rome!" he said, pointing to the portrait with a +graceful gesture. "Admirable!" + +With the natural capacity of an Italian for changing the +expression of his face at will, he drew nearer to the portrait and +assumed a look of pensive tenderness. He felt that what he now said +and did would be historical, and it seemed to him that it would now be +best for him--whose grandeur enabled his son to play stick and ball +with the terrestrial globe--to show, in contrast to that grandeur, the +simplest paternal tenderness. His eyes grew dim, he moved forward, +glanced round at a chair (which seemed to place itself under him), and +sat down on it before the portrait. At a single gesture from him +everyone went out on tiptoe, leaving the great man to himself and +his emotion. + +Having sat still for a while he touched--himself not knowing why- +the thick spot of paint representing the highest light in the +portrait, rose, and recalled de Beausset and the officer on duty. He +ordered the portrait to be carried outside his tent, that the Old +Guard, stationed round it, might not be deprived of the pleasure of +seeing the King of Rome, the son and heir of their adored monarch. + +And while he was doing M. de Beausset the honor of breakfasting with +him, they heard, as Napoleon had anticipated, the rapturous cries of +the officers and men of the Old Guard who had run up to see the +portrait. + +"Vive l'Empereur! Vive le roi de Rome! Vive l'Empereur!" came +those ecstatic cries. + +After breakfast Napoleon in de Beausset's presence dictated his +order of the day to the army. + +"Short and energetic!" he remarked when he had read over the +proclamation which he had dictated straight off without corrections. +It ran: + + +Soldiers! This is the battle you have so longed for. Victory depends +on you. It is essential for us; it will give us all we need: +comfortable quarters and a speedy return to our country. Behave as you +did at Austerlitz, Friedland, Vitebsk, and Smolensk. Let our +remotest posterity recall your achievements this day with pride. Let +it be said of each of you: "He was in the great battle before Moscow!" + + +"Before Moscow!" repeated Napoleon, and inviting M. de Beausset, who +was so fond of travel, to accompany him on his ride, he went out of +the tent to where the horses stood saddled. + +"Your Majesty is too kind!" replied de Beausset to the invitation to +accompany the Emperor; he wanted to sleep, did not know how to ride +and was afraid of doing so. + +But Napoleon nodded to the traveler, and de Beausset had to mount. +When Napoleon came out of the tent the shouting of the Guards before +his son's portrait grew still louder. Napoleon frowned. + +"Take him away!" he said, pointing with a gracefully majestic +gesture to the portrait. "It is too soon for him to see a field of +battle." + +De Beausset closed his eyes, bowed his head, and sighed deeply, to +indicate how profoundly he valued and comprehended the Emperor's +words. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +On the twenty-fifth of August, so his historians tell us, Napoleon +spent the whole day on horseback inspecting the locality, +considering plans submitted to him by his marshals, and personally +giving commands to his generals. + +The original line of the Russian forces along the river Kolocha +had been dislocated by the capture of the Shevardino Redoubt on the +twenty-fourth, and part of the line--the left flank--had been drawn +back. That part of the line was not entrenched and in front of it +the ground was more open and level than elsewhere. It was evident to +anyone, military or not, that it was here the French should attack. It +would seem that not much consideration was needed to reach this +conclusion, nor any particular care or trouble on the part of the +Emperor and his marshals, nor was there any need of that special and +supreme quality called genius that people are so apt to ascribe to +Napoleon; yet the historians who described the event later and the men +who then surrounded Napoleon, and he himself, thought otherwise. + +Napoleon rode over the plain and surveyed the locality with a +profound air and in silence, nodded with approval or shook his head +dubiously, and without communicating to the generals around him the +profound course of ideas which guided his decisions merely gave them +his final conclusions in the form of commands. Having listened to a +suggestion from Davout, who was now called Prince d'Eckmuhl, to turn +the Russian left wing, Napoleon said it should not be done, without +explaining why not. To a proposal made by General Campan (who was to +attack the fleches) to lead his division through the woods, Napoleon +agreed, though the so-called Duke of Elchingen (Ney) ventured to +remark that a movement through the woods was dangerous and might +disorder the division. + +Having inspected the country opposite the Shevardino Redoubt, +Napoleon pondered a little in silence and then indicated the spots +where two batteries should be set up by the morrow to act against +the Russian entrenchments, and the places where, in line with them, +the field artillery should be placed. + +After giving these and other commands he returned to his tent, and +the dispositions for the battle were written down from his dictation. + +These dispositions, of which the French historians write with +enthusiasm and other historians with profound respect, were as +follows: + + +At dawn the two new batteries established during the night on the +plain occupied by the Prince d'Eckmuhl will open fire on the +opposing batteries of the enemy. + +At the same time the commander of the artillery of the 1st Corps, +General Pernetti, with thirty cannon of Campan's division and all +the howitzers of Dessaix's and Friant's divisions, will move +forward, open fire, and overwhelm with shellfire the enemy's +battery, against which will operate: + + 24 guns of the artillery of the Guards + 30 guns of Campan's division + +and 8 guns of Friant's and Dessaix's divisions + -- + +in all 62 guns. + + +The commander of the artillery of the 3rd Corps, General Fouche, +will place the howitzers of the 3rd and 8th Corps, sixteen in all, +on the flanks of the battery that is to bombard the entrenchment on +the left, which will have forty guns in all directed against it. + +General Sorbier must be ready at the first order to advance with all +the howitzers of the Guard's artillery against either one or other +of the entrenchments. + +During the cannonade Prince Poniatowski is to advance through the +wood on the village and turn the enemy's position. + +General Campan will move through the wood to seize the first +fortification. + +After the advance has begun in this manner, orders will be given +in accordance with the enemy's movements. + +The cannonade on the left flank will begin as soon as the guns of +the right wing are heard. The sharpshooters of Morand's division and +of the vice-King's division will open a heavy fire on seeing the +attack commence on the right wing. + +The vice-King will occupy the village and cross by its three +bridges, advancing to the same heights as Morand's and Gibrard's +divisions, which under his leadership will be directed against the +redoubt and come into line with the rest of the forces. + +All this must be done in good order (le tout se fera avec ordre et +methode) as far as possible retaining troops in reserve. + The Imperial Camp near Mozhaysk, + September, 6, 1812. + + +These dispositions, which are very obscure and confused if one +allows oneself to regard the arrangements without religious awe of his +genius, related to Napoleon's orders to deal with four points--four +different orders. Not one of these was, or could be, carried out. + +In the disposition it is said first that the batteries placed on the +spot chosen by Napoleon, with the guns of Pernetti and Fouche; which +were to come in line with them, 102 guns in all, were to open fire and +shower shells on the Russian fleches and redoubts. This could not be +done, as from the spots selected by Napoleon the projectiles did not +carry to the Russian works, and those 102 guns shot into the air until +the nearest commander, contrary to Napoleon's instructions, moved them +forward. + +The second order was that Poniatowski, moving to the village through +the wood, should turn the Russian left flank. This could not be done +and was not done, because Poniatowski, advancing on the village +through the wood, met Tuchkov there barring his way, and could not and +did not turn the Russian position. + +The third order was: General Campan will move through the wood to +seize the first fortification. General Campan's division did not seize +the first fortification but was driven back, for on emerging from +the wood it had to reform under grapeshot, of which Napoleon was +unaware. + +The fourth order was: The vice-King will occupy the village +(Borodino) and cross by its three bridges, advancing to the same +heights as Morand's and Gdrard's divisions (for whose movements no +directions are given), which under his leadership will be directed +against the redoubt and come into line with the rest of the forces. + +As far as one can make out, not so much from this unintelligible +sentence as from the attempts the vice-King made to execute the orders +given him, he was to advance from the left through Borodino to the +redoubt while the divisions of Morand and Gerard were to advance +simultaneously from the front. + +All this, like the other parts of the disposition, was not and could +not be executed. After passing through Borodino the vice-King was +driven back to the Kolocha and could get no farther; while the +divisions of Morand and Gerard did not take the redoubt but were +driven back, and the redoubt was only taken at the end of the battle +by the cavalry (a thing probably unforeseen and not heard of by +Napoleon). So not one of the orders in the disposition was, or could +be, executed. But in the disposition it is said that, after the +fight has commenced in this manner, orders will be given in accordance +with the enemy's movements, and so it might be supposed that all +necessary arrangements would be made by Napoleon during the battle. +But this was not and could not be done, for during the whole battle +Napoleon was so far away that, as appeared later, he could not know +the course of the battle and not one of his orders during the fight +could be executed. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +Many historians say that the French did not win the battle of +Borodino because Napoleon had a cold, and that if he had not had a +cold the orders he gave before and during the battle would have been +still more full of genius and Russia would have been lost and the face +of the world have been changed. To historians who believe that +Russia was shaped by the will of one man--Peter the Great--and that +France from a republic became an empire and French armies went to +Russia at the will of one man--Napoleon--to say that Russia remained a +power because Napoleon had a bad cold on the twenty-fourth of August +may seem logical and convincing. + +If it had depended on Napoleon's will to fight or not to fight the +battle of Borodino, and if this or that other arrangement depended +on his will, then evidently a cold affecting the manifestation of +his will might have saved Russia, and consequently the valet who +omitted to bring Napoleon his waterproof boots on the twenty-fourth +would have been the savior of Russia. Along that line of thought +such a deduction is indubitable, as indubitable as the deduction +Voltaire made in jest (without knowing what he was jesting at) when he +saw that the Massacre of St. Bartholomew was due to Charles IX's +stomach being deranged. But to men who do not admit that Russia was +formed by the will of one man, Peter I, or that the French Empire +was formed and the war with Russia begun by the will of one man, +Napoleon, that argument seems not merely untrue and irrational, but +contrary to all human reality. To the question of what causes historic +events another answer presents itself, namely, that the course of +human events is predetermined from on high--depends on the coincidence +of the wills of all who take part in the events, and that a Napoleon's +influence on the course of these events is purely external and +fictitious. + +Strange as at first glance it may seem to suppose that the +Massacre of St. Bartholomew was not due to Charles IX's will, though +he gave the order for it and thought it was done as a result of that +order; and strange as it may seem to suppose that the slaughter of +eighty thousand men at Borodino was not due to Napoleon's will, though +he ordered the commencement and conduct of the battle and thought it +was done because he ordered it; strange as these suppositions +appear, yet human dignity--which tells me that each of us is, if not +more at least not less a man than the great Napoleon--demands the +acceptance of that solution of the question, and historic +investigation abundantly confirms it. + +At the battle of Borodino Napoleon shot at no one and killed no one. +That was all done by the soldiers. Therefore it was not he who +killed people. + +The French soldiers went to kill and be killed at the battle of +Borodino not because of Napoleon's orders but by their own volition. +The whole army--French, Italian, German, Polish, and Dutch--hungry, +ragged, and weary of the campaign, felt at the sight of an army +blocking their road to Moscow that the wine was drawn and must be +drunk. Had Napoleon then forbidden them to fight the Russians, they +would have killed him and have proceeded to fight the Russians because +it was inevitable. + +When they heard Napoleon's proclamation offering them, as +compensation for mutilation and death, the words of posterity about +their having been in the battle before Moscow, they cried "Vive +l'Empereur!" just as they had cried "Vive l'Empereur!" at the sight of +the portrait of the boy piercing the terrestrial globe with a toy +stick, and just as they would have cried "Vive l'Empereur!" at any +nonsense that might be told them. There was nothing left for them to +do but cry "Vive l'Empereur!" and go to fight, in order to get food +and rest as conquerors in Moscow. So it was not because of +Napoleon's commands that they killed their fellow men. + +And it was not Napoleon who directed the course of the battle, for +none of his orders were executed and during the battle he did not know +what was going on before him. So the way in which these people +killed one another was not decided by Napoleon's will but occurred +independently of him, in accord with the will of hundreds of thousands +of people who took part in the common action. It only seemed to +Napoleon that it all took place by his will. And so the question +whether he had or had not a cold has no more historic interest than +the cold of the least of the transport soldiers. + +Moreover, the assertion made by various writers that his cold was +the cause of his dispositions not being as well planned as on former +occasions, and of his orders during the battle not being as good as +previously, is quite baseless, which again shows that Napoleon's +cold on the twenty-sixth of August was unimportant. + +The dispositions cited above are not at all worse, but are even +better, than previous dispositions by which he had won victories. +His pseudo-orders during the battle were also no worse than +formerly, but much the same as usual. These dispositions and orders +only seem worse than previous ones because the battle of Borodino +was the first Napoleon did not win. The profoundest and most excellent +dispositions and orders seem very bad, and every learned militarist +criticizes them with looks of importance, when they relate to a +battle that has been lost, and the very worst dispositions and +orders seem very good, and serious people fill whole volumes to +demonstrate their merits, when they relate to a battle that has been +won. + +The dispositions drawn up by Weyrother for the battle of +Austerlitz were a model of perfection for that kind of composition, +but still they were criticized--criticized for their very +perfection, for their excessive minuteness. + +Napoleon at the battle of Borodino fulfilled his office as +representative of authority as well as, and even better than, at other +battles. He did nothing harmful to the progress of the battle; he +inclined to the most reasonable opinions, he made no confusion, did +not contradict himself, did not get frightened or run away from the +field of battle, but with his great tact and military experience +carried out his role of appearing to command, calmly and with dignity. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +On returning from a second inspection of the lines, Napoleon +remarked: + +"The chessmen are set up, the game will begin tomorrow!" + +Having ordered punch and summoned de Beausset, he began to talk to +him about Paris and about some changes he meant to make the Empress' +household, surprising the prefect by his memory of minute details +relating to the court. + +He showed an interest in trifles, joked about de Beausset's love +of travel, and chatted carelessly, as a famous, self-confident surgeon +who knows his job does when turning up his sleeves and putting on +his apron while a patient is being strapped to the operating table. +"The matter is in my hands and is clear and definite in my head. +When the times comes to set to work I shall do it as no one else +could, but now I can jest, and the more I jest and the calmer I am the +more tranquil and confident you ought to be, and the more amazed at my +genius." + +Having finished his second glass of punch, Napoleon went to rest +before the serious business which, he considered, awaited him next +day. He was so much interested in that task that he was unable to +sleep, and in spite of his cold which had grown worse from the +dampness of the evening, he went into the large division of the tent +at three o'clock in the morning, loudly blowing his nose. He asked +whether the Russians had not withdrawn, and was told that the +enemy's fires were still in the same places. He nodded approval. + +The adjutant in attendance came into the tent. + +"Well, Rapp, do you think we shall do good business today?" Napoleon +asked him. + +"Without doubt, sire," replied Rapp. + +Napoleon looked at him. + +"Do you remember, sire, what you did me the honor to say at +Smolensk?" continued Rapp. "The wine is drawn and must be drunk." + +Napoleon frowned and sat silent for a long time leaning his head +on his hand. + +"This poor army!" he suddenly remarked. "It has diminished greatly +since Smolensk. Fortune is frankly a courtesan, Rapp. I have always +said so and I am beginning to experience it. But the Guards, Rapp, the +Guards are intact?" he remarked interrogatively. + +"Yes, sire," replied Rapp. + +Napoleon took a lozenge, put it in his mouth, and glanced at his +watch. He was not sleepy and it was still not nearly morning. It was +impossible to give further orders for the sake of killing time, for +the orders had all been given and were now being executed. + +"Have the biscuits and rice been served out to the regiments of +the Guards?" asked Napoleon sternly. + +"Yes, sire." + +"The rice too?" + +Rapp replied that he had given the Emperor's order about the rice, +but Napoleon shook his head in dissatisfaction as if not believing +that his order had been executed. An attendant came in with punch. +Napoleon ordered another glass to be brought for Rapp, and silently +sipped his own. + +"I have neither taste nor smell," he remarked, sniffing at his +glass. "This cold is tiresome. They talk about medicine--what is the +good of medicine when it can't cure a cold! Corvisart gave me these +lozenges but they don't help at all. What can doctors cure? One +can't cure anything. Our body is a machine for living. It is organized +for that, it is its nature. Let life go on in it unhindered and let it +defend itself, it will do more than if you paralyze it by +encumbering it with remedies. Our body is like a perfect watch that +should go for a certain time; watchmaker cannot open it, he can only +adjust it by fumbling, and that blindfold.... Yes, our body is just +a machine for living, that is all." + +And having entered on the path of definition, of which he was +fond, Napoleon suddenly and unexpectedly gave a new one. + +"Do you know, Rapp, what military art is?" asked he. "It is the +art of being stronger than the enemy at a given moment. That's all." + +Rapp made no reply. + +"Tomorrow we shall have to deal with Kutuzov!" said Napoleon. "We +shall see! Do you remember at Braunau he commanded an army for three +weeks and did not once mount a horse to inspect his +entrenchments.... We shall see!" + +He looked at his watch. It was still only four o'clock. He did not +feel sleepy. The punch was finished and there was still nothing to do. +He rose, walked to and fro, put on a warm overcoat and a hat, and went +out of the tent. The night was dark and damp, a scarcely perceptible +moisture was descending from above. Near by, the campfires were +dimly burning among the French Guards, and in the distance those of +the Russian line shone through the smoke. The weather was calm, and +the rustle and tramp of the French troops already beginning to move to +take up their positions were clearly audible. + +Napoleon walked about in front of his tent, looked at the fires +and listened to these sounds, and as he was passing a tall guardsman +in a shaggy cap, who was standing sentinel before his tent and had +drawn himself up like a black pillar at sight of the Emperor, Napoleon +stopped in front of him. + +"What year did you enter the service?" he asked with that +affectation of military bluntness and geniality with which he always +addressed the soldiers. + +The man answered the question. + +"Ah! One of the old ones! Has your regiment had its rice?" + +"It has, Your Majesty." + +Napoleon nodded and walked away. + + +At half-past five Napoleon rode to the village of Shevardino. + +It was growing light, the sky was clearing, only a single cloud +lay in the east. The abandoned campfires were burning themselves out +in the faint morning light. + +On the right a single deep report of a cannon resounded and died +away in the prevailing silence. Some minutes passed. A second and a +third report shook the air, then a fourth and a fifth boomed +solemnly near by on the right. + +The first shots had not yet ceased to reverberate before others rang +out and yet more were heard mingling with and overtaking one another. + +Napoleon with his suite rode up to the Shevardino Redoubt where he +dismounted. The game had begun. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +On returning to Gorki after having seen Prince Andrew, Pierre +ordered his groom to get the horses ready and to call him early in the +morning, and then immediately fell asleep behind a partition in a +corner Boris had given up to him. + +Before he was thoroughly awake next morning everybody had already +left the hut. The panes were rattling in the little windows and his +groom was shaking him. + +"Your excellency! Your excellency! Your excellency!" he kept +repeating pertinaciously while he shook Pierre by the shoulder without +looking at him, having apparently lost hope of getting him to wake up. + +"What? Has it begun? Is it time?" Pierre asked, waking up. + +"Hear the firing," said the groom, a discharged soldier. "All the +gentlemen have gone out, and his Serene Highness himself rode past +long ago." + +Pierre dressed hastily and ran out to the porch. Outside all was +bright, fresh, dewy, and cheerful. The sun, just bursting forth from +behind a cloud that had concealed it, was shining, with rays still +half broken by the clouds, over the roofs of the street opposite, on +the dew-besprinkled dust of the road, on the walls of the houses, on +the windows, the fence, and on Pierre's horses standing before the +hut. The roar of guns sounded more distinct outside. An adjutant +accompanied by a Cossack passed by at a sharp trot. + +"It's time, Count; it's time!" cried the adjutant. + +Telling the groom to follow him with the horses, Pierre went down +the street to the knoll from which he had looked at the field of +battle the day before. A crowd of military men was assembled there, +members of the staff could be heard conversing in French, and +Kutuzov's gray head in a white cap with a red band was visible, his +gray nape sunk between his shoulders. He was looking through a field +glass down the highroad before him. + +Mounting the steps to the knoll Pierre looked at the scene before +him, spellbound by beauty. It was the same panorama he had admired +from that spot the day before, but now the whole place was full of +troops and covered by smoke clouds from the guns, and the slanting +rays of the bright sun, rising slightly to the left behind Pierre, +cast upon it through the clear morning air penetrating streaks of +rosy, golden tinted light and long dark shadows. The forest at the +farthest extremity of the panorama seemed carved in some precious +stone of a yellowish-green color; its undulating outline was +silhouetted against the horizon and was pierced beyond Valuevo by +the Smolensk highroad crowded with troops. Nearer at hand glittered +golden cornfields interspersed with copses. There were troops to be +seen everywhere, in front and to the right and left. All this was +vivid, majestic, and unexpected; but what impressed Pierre most of all +was the view of the battlefield itself, of Borodino and the hollows on +both sides of the Kolocha. + +Above the Kolocha, in Borodino and on both sides of it, especially +to the left where the Voyna flowing between its marshy banks falls +into the Kolocha, a mist had spread which seemed to melt, to dissolve, +and to become translucent when the brilliant sun appeared and +magically colored and outlined everything. The smoke of the guns +mingled with this mist, and over the whole expanse and through that +mist the rays of the morning sun were reflected, flashing back like +lightning from the water, from the dew, and from the bayonets of the +troops crowded together by the riverbanks and in Borodino. A white +church could be seen through the mist, and here and there the roofs of +huts in Borodino as well as dense masses of soldiers, or green +ammunition chests and ordnance. And all this moved, or seemed to move, +as the smoke and mist spread out over the whole space. Just as in +the mist-enveloped hollow near Borodino, so along the entire line +outside and above it and especially in the woods and fields to the +left, in the valleys and on the summits of the high ground, clouds +of powder smoke seemed continually to spring up out of nothing, now +singly, now several at a time, some translucent, others dense, +which, swelling, growing, rolling, and blending, extended over the +whole expanse. + +These puffs of smoke and (strange to say) the sound of +the firing produced the chief beauty of the spectacle. + +"Puff!"--suddenly a round compact cloud of smoke was seen merging +from violet into gray and milky white, and "boom!" came the report a +second later. + +"Puff! puff!"--and two clouds arose pushing one another and blending +together; and "boom, boom!" came the sounds confirming what the eye +had seen. + +Pierre glanced round at the first cloud, which he had seen as a +round compact ball, and in its place already were balloons of smoke +floating to one side, and--"puff" (with a pause)--"puff, puff!" +three and then four more appeared and then from each, with the same +interval--"boom--boom, boom!" came the fine, firm, precise sounds in +reply. It seemed as if those smoke clouds sometimes ran and +sometimes stood still while woods, fields, and glittering bayonets ran +past them. From the left, over fields and bushes, those large balls of +smoke were continually appearing followed by their solemn reports, +while nearer still, in the hollows and woods, there burst from the +muskets small cloudlets that had no time to become balls, but had +their little echoes in just the same way. "Trakh-ta-ta-takh!" came the +frequent crackle of musketry, but it was irregular and feeble in +comparison with the reports of the cannon. + +Pierre wished to be there with that smoke, those shining bayonets, +that movement, and those sounds. He turned to look at Kutuzov and +his suite, to compare his impressions with those of others. They +were all looking at the field of battle as he was, and, as it seemed +to him, with the same feelings. All their faces were now shining +with that latent warmth of feeling Pierre had noticed the day before +and had fully understood after his talk with Prince Andrew. + +"Go, my dear fellow, go... and Christ be with you!" Kutuzov was +saying to a general who stood beside him, not taking his eye from +the battlefield. + +Having received this order the general passed by Pierre on his way +down the knoll. + +"To the crossing!" said the general coldly and sternly in reply to +one of the staff who asked where he was going. + +"I'll go there too, I too!" thought Pierre, and followed the +general. + +The general mounted a horse a Cossack had brought him. Pierre went +to his groom who was holding his horses and, asking which was the +quietest, clambered onto it, seized it by the mane, and turning out +his toes pressed his heels against its sides and, feeling that his +spectacles were slipping off but unable to let go of the mane and +reins, he galloped after the general, causing the staff officers to +smile as they watched him from the knoll. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +Having descended the hill the general after whom Pierre was +galloping turned sharply to the left, and Pierre, losing sight of him, +galloped in among some ranks of infantry marching ahead of him. He +tried to pass either in front of them or to the right or left, but +there were soldiers everywhere, all with expression and busy with some +unseen but evidently important task. They all gazed with the same +dissatisfied and inquiring expression at this stout man in a white +hat, who for some unknown reason threatened to trample them under +his horse's hoofs. + +"Why ride into the middle of the battalion?" one of them shouted +at him. + +Another prodded his horse with the butt end of a musket, and Pierre, +bending over his saddlebow and hardly able to control his shying +horse, galloped ahead of the soldiers where there was a free space. + +There was a bridge ahead of him, where other soldiers stood +firing. Pierre rode up to them. Without being aware of it he had +come to the bridge across the Kolocha between Gorki and Borodino, +which the French (having occupied Borodino) were attacking in the +first phase of the battle. Pierre saw that there was a bridge in front +of him and that soldiers were doing something on both sides of it +and in the meadow, among the rows of new-mown hay which he had taken +no notice of amid the smoke of the campfires the day before; but +despite the incessant firing going on there he had no idea that this +was the field of battle. He did not notice the sound of the bullets +whistling from every side, or the projectiles that flew over him, +did not see the enemy on the other side of the river, and for a long +time did not notice the killed and wounded, though many fell near him. +He looked about him with a smile which did not leave his face. + +"Why's that fellow in front of the line?" shouted somebody at him +again. + +"To the left!... Keep to the right!" the men shouted to him. + +Pierre went to the right, and unexpectedly encountered one of +Raevski's adjutants whom he knew. The adjutant looked angrily at +him, evidently also intending to shout at him, but on recognizing +him he nodded. + +"How have you got here?" he said, and galloped on. + +Pierre, feeling out of place there, having nothing to do, and afraid +of getting in someone's way again, galloped after the adjutant. + +"What's happening here? May I come with you?" he asked. + +"One moment, one moment!" replied the adjutant, and riding up to a +stout colonel who was standing in the meadow, he gave him some message +and then addressed Pierre. + +"Why have you come here, Count?" he asked with a smile. "Still +inquisitive?" + +"Yes, yes," assented Pierre. + +But the adjutant turned his horse about and rode on. + +"Here it's tolerable," said he, "but with Bagration on the left +flank they're getting it frightfully hot." + +"Really?" said Pierre. "Where is that?" + +"Come along with me to our knoll. We can get a view from there and +in our battery it is still bearable," said the adjutant. "Will you +come?" + +"Yes, I'll come with you," replied Pierre, looking round for his +groom. + +It was only now that he noticed wounded men staggering along or +being carried on stretchers. On that very meadow he had ridden over +the day before, a soldier was lying athwart the rows of scented hay, +with his head thrown awkwardly back and his shako off. + +"Why haven't they carried him away?" Pierre was about to ask, but +seeing the stern expression of the adjutant who was also looking +that way, he checked himself. + +Pierre did not find his groom and rode along the hollow with the +adjutant to Raevski's Redoubt. His horse lagged behind the +adjutant's and jolted him at every step. + +"You don't seem to be used to riding, Count?" remarked the adjutant. + +"No it's not that, but her action seems so jerky," said Pierre in +a puzzled tone. + +"Why... she's wounded!" said the adjutant. "In the off foreleg above +the knee. A bullet, no doubt. I congratulate you, Count, on your +baptism of fire!" + +Having ridden in the smoke past the Sixth Corps, behind the +artillery which had been moved forward and was in action, deafening +them with the noise of firing, they came to a small wood. There it was +cool and quiet, with a scent of autumn. Pierre and the adjutant +dismounted and walked up the hill on foot. + +"Is the general here?" asked the adjutant on reaching the knoll. + +"He was here a minute ago but has just gone that way," someone +told him, pointing to the right. + +The adjutant looked at Pierre as if puzzled what to do with him now. + +"Don't trouble about me," said Pierre. "I'll go up onto the knoll if +I may?" + +"Yes, do. You'll see everything from there and it's less +dangerous, and I'll come for you." + +Pierre went to the battery and the adjutant rode on. They did not +meet again, and only much later did Pierre learn that he lost an arm +that day. + +The knoll to which Pierre ascended was that famous one afterwards +known to the Russians as the Knoll Battery or Raevski's Redoubt, and +to the French as la grande redoute, la fatale redoute, la redoute du +centre, around which tens of thousands fell, and which the French +regarded as the key to the whole position. + +This redoubt consisted of a knoll, on three sides of which +trenches had been dug. Within the entrenchment stood ten guns that +were being fired through openings in the earthwork. + +In line with the knoll on both sides stood other guns which also +fired incessantly. A little behind the guns stood infantry. When +ascending that knoll Pierre had no notion that this spot, on which +small trenches had been dug and from which a few guns were firing, was +the most important point of the battle. + +On the contrary, just because he happened to be there he thought +it one of the least significant parts of the field. + +Having reached the knoll, Pierre sat down at one end of a trench +surrounding the battery and gazed at what was going on around him with +an unconsciously happy smile. Occasionally he rose and walked about +the battery still with that same smile, trying not to obstruct the +soldiers who were loading, hauling the guns, and continually running +past him with bags and charges. The guns of that battery were being +fired continually one after another with a deafening roar, +enveloping the whole neighborhood in powder smoke. + +In contrast with the dread felt by the infantrymen placed in +support, here in the battery where a small number of men busy at their +work were separated from the rest by a trench, everyone experienced +a common and as it were family feeling of animation. + +The intrusion of Pierre's nonmilitary figure in a white hat made +an unpleasant impression at first. The soldiers looked askance at +him with surprise and even alarm as they went past him. The senior +artillery officer, a tall, long-legged, pockmarked man, moved over +to Pierre as if to see the action of the farthest gun and looked at +him with curiosity. + +A young round-faced officer, quite a boy still and evidently only +just out of the Cadet College, who was zealously commanding the two +guns entrusted to him, addressed Pierre sternly. + +"Sir," he said, "permit me to ask you to stand aside. You must not +be here." + +The soldiers shook their heads disapprovingly as they looked at +Pierre. But when they had convinced themselves that this man in the +white hat was doing no harm, but either sat quietly on the slope of +the trench with a shy smile or, politely making way for the +soldiers, paced up and down the battery under fire as calmly as if +he were on a boulevard, their feeling of hostile distrust gradually +began to change into a kindly and bantering sympathy, such as soldiers +feel for their dogs, cocks, goats, and in general for the animals that +live with the regiment. The men soon accepted Pierre into their +family, adopted him, gave him a nickname ("our gentleman"), and made +kindly fun of him among themselves. + +A shell tore up the earth two paces from Pierre and he looked around +with a smile as he brushed from his clothes some earth it had thrown +up. + +"And how's it you're not afraid, sir, really now?" a red-faced, +broad-shouldered soldier asked Pierre, with a grin that disclosed a +set of sound, white teeth. + +"Are you afraid, then?" said Pierre. + +"What else do you expect?" answered the soldier. "She has no +mercy, you know! When she comes spluttering down, out go your innards. +One can't help being afraid," he said laughing. + +Several of the men, with bright kindly faces, stopped beside Pierre. +They seemed not to have expected him to talk like anybody else, and +the discovery that he did so delighted them. + +"It's the business of us soldiers. But in a gentleman it's +wonderful! There's a gentleman for you!" + +"To your places!" cried the young officer to the men gathered +round Pierre. + +The young officer was evidently exercising his duties for the +first or second time and therefore treated both his superiors and +the men with great precision and formality. + +The booming cannonade and the fusillade of musketry were growing +more intense over the whole field, especially to the left where +Bagration's fleches were, but where Pierre was the smoke of the firing +made it almost impossible to distinguish anything. Moreover, his whole +attention was engrossed by watching the family circle--separated +from all else--formed by the men in the battery. His first unconscious +feeling of joyful animation produced by the sights and sounds of the +battlefield was now replaced by another, especially since he had +seen that soldier lying alone in the hayfield. Now, seated on the +slope of the trench, he observed the faces of those around him. + +By ten o'clock some twenty men had already been carried away from +the battery; two guns were smashed and cannon balls fell more and more +frequently on the battery and spent bullets buzzed and whistled +around. But the men in the battery seemed not to notice this, and +merry voices and jokes were heard on all sides. + +"A live one!" shouted a man as a whistling shell approached. + +"Not this way! To the infantry!" added another with loud laughter, +seeing the shell fly past and fall into the ranks of the supports. + +"Are you bowing to a friend, eh?" remarked another, chaffing a +peasant who ducked low as a cannon ball flew over. + +Several soldiers gathered by the wall of the trench, looking out +to see what was happening in front. + +"They've withdrawn the front line, it has retired," said they, +pointing over the earthwork. + +"Mind your own business," an old sergeant shouted at them. "If +they've retired it's because there's work for them to do farther +back." + +And the sergeant, taking one of the men by the shoulders, gave him a +shove with his knee. This was followed by a burst of laughter. + +"To the fifth gun, wheel it up!" came shouts from one side. + +"Now then, all together, like bargees!" rose the merry voices of +those who were moving the gun. + +"Oh, she nearly knocked our gentleman's hat off!" cried the +red-faced humorist, showing his teeth chaffing Pierre. "Awkward +baggage!" he added reproachfully to a cannon ball that struck a cannon +wheel and a man's leg. + +"Now then, you foxes!" said another, laughing at some militiamen +who, stooping low, entered the battery to carry away the wounded man. + +"So this gruel isn't to your taste? Oh, you crows! You're scared!" +they shouted at the militiamen who stood hesitating before the man +whose leg had been torn off. + +"There, lads... oh, oh!" they mimicked the peasants, "they don't +like it at all!" + +Pierre noticed that after every ball that hit the redoubt, and after +every loss, the liveliness increased more and more. + +As the flames of the fire hidden within come more and more vividly +and rapidly from an approaching thundercloud, so, as if in +opposition to what was taking place, the lightning of hidden fire +growing more and more intense glowed in the faces of these men. + +Pierre did not look out at the battlefield and was not concerned +to know what was happening there; he was entirely absorbed in watching +this fire which burned ever more brightly and which he felt was +flaming up in the same way in his own soul. + +At ten o'clock the infantry that had been among the bushes in +front of the battery and along the Kamenka streamlet retreated. From +the battery they could be seen running back past it carrying their +wounded on their muskets. A general with his suite came to the +battery, and after speaking to the colonel gave Pierre an angry look +and went away again having ordered the infantry supports behind the +battery to lie down, so as to be less exposed to fire. After this from +amid the ranks of infantry to the right of the battery came the +sound of a drum and shouts of command, and from the battery one saw +how those ranks of infantry moved forward. + +Pierre looked over the wall of the trench and was particularly +struck by a pale young officer who, letting his sword hang down, was +walking backwards and kept glancing uneasily around. + +The ranks of the infantry disappeared amid the smoke but their +long-drawn shout and rapid musketry firing could still be heard. A few +minutes later crowds of wounded men and stretcher-bearers came back +from that direction. Projectiles began to fall still more frequently +in the battery. Several men were lying about who had not been removed. +Around the cannon the men moved still more briskly and busily. No +one any longer took notice of Pierre. Once or twice he was shouted +at for being in the way. The senior officer moved with big, rapid +strides from one gun to another with a frowning face. The young +officer, with his face still more flushed, commanded the men more +scrupulously than ever. The soldiers handed up the charges, turned, +loaded, and did their business with strained smartness. They gave +little jumps as they walked, as though they were on springs. + +The stormcloud had come upon them, and in every face the fire +which Pierre had watched kindle burned up brightly. Pierre standing +beside the commanding officer. The young officer, his hand to his +shako, ran up to his superior. + +"I have the honor to report, sir, that only eight rounds are left. +Are we to continue firing?" he asked. + +"Grapeshot!" the senior shouted, without answering the question, +looking over the wall of the trench. + +Suddenly something happened: the young officer gave a gasp and +bending double sat down on the ground like a bird shot on the wing. +Everything became strange, confused, and misty in Pierre's eyes. + +One cannon ball after another whistled by and struck the +earthwork, a soldier, or a gun. Pierre, who had not noticed these +sounds before, now heard nothing else. On the right of the battery +soldiers shouting "Hurrah!" were running not forwards but backwards, +it seemed to Pierre. + +A cannon ball struck the very end of the earth work by which he +was standing, crumbling down the earth; a black ball flashed before +his eyes and at the same instant plumped into something. Some +militiamen who were entering the battery ran back. + +"All with grapeshot!" shouted the officer. + +The sergeant ran up to the officer and in a frightened whisper +informed him (as a butler at dinner informs his master that there is +no more of some wine asked for) that there were no more charges. + +"The scoundrels! What are they doing?" shouted the officer, +turning to Pierre. + +The officer's face was red and perspiring and his eyes glittered +under his frowning brow. + +"Run to the reserves and bring up the ammunition boxes!" he +yelled, angrily avoiding Pierre with his eyes and speaking to his men. + +"I'll go," said Pierre. + +The officer, without answering him, strode across to the opposite +side. + +"Don't fire.... Wait!" he shouted. + +The man who had been ordered to go for ammunition stumbled against +Pierre. + +"Eh, sir, this is no place for you," said he, and ran down the +slope. + +Pierre ran after him, avoiding the spot where the young officer +was sitting. + +One cannon ball, another, and a third flew over him, falling in +front, beside, and behind him. Pierre ran down the slope. "Where am +I going?" he suddenly asked himself when he was already near the green +ammunition wagons. He halted irresolutely, not knowing whether to +return or go on. Suddenly a terrible concussion threw him backwards to +the ground. At the same instant he was dazzled by a great flash of +flame, and immediately a deafening roar, crackling, and whistling made +his ears tingle. + +When he came to himself he was sitting on the ground leaning on +his hands; the ammunition wagons he had been approaching no longer +existed, only charred green boards and rags littered the scorched +grass, and a horse, dangling fragments of its shaft behind it, +galloped past, while another horse lay, like Pierre, on the ground, +uttering prolonged and piercing cries. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +Beside himself with terror Pierre jumped up and ran back to the +battery, as to the only refuge from the horrors that surrounded him. + +On entering the earthwork he noticed that there were men doing +something there but that no shots were being fired from the battery. +He had no time to realize who these men were. He saw the senior +officer lying on the earth wall with his back turned as if he were +examining something down below and that one of the soldiers he had +noticed before was struggling forward shouting "Brothers!" and +trying to free himself from some men who were holding him by the +arm. He also saw something else that was strange. + +But he had not time to realize that the colonel had been killed, +that the soldier shouting "Brothers!" was a prisoner, and that another +man had been bayoneted in the back before his eyes, for hardly had +he run into the redoubt before a thin, sallow-faced, perspiring man in +a blue uniform rushed on him sword in hand, shouting something. +Instinctively guarding against the shock--for they had been running +together at full speed before they saw one another--Pierre put out his +hands and seized the man (a French officer) by the shoulder with one +hand and by the throat with the other. The officer, dropping his +sword, seized Pierre by his collar. + +For some seconds they gazed with frightened eyes at one another's +unfamiliar faces and both were perplexed at what they had done and +what they were to do next. "Am I taken prisoner or have I taken him +prisoner?" each was thinking. But the French officer was evidently +more inclined to think he had been taken prisoner because Pierre's +strong hand, impelled by instinctive fear, squeezed his throat ever +tighter and tighter. The Frenchman was about to say something, when +just above their heads, terrible and low, a cannon ball whistled, +and it seemed to Pierre that the French officer's head had been torn +off, so swiftly had he ducked it. + +Pierre too bent his head and let his hands fall. Without further +thought as to who had taken whom prisoner, the Frenchman ran back to +the battery and Pierre ran down the slope stumbling over the dead +and wounded who, it seemed to him, caught at his feet. But before he +reached the foot of the knoll he was met by a dense crowd of Russian +soldiers who, stumbling, tripping up, and shouting, ran merrily and +wildly toward the battery. (This was the attack for which Ermolov +claimed the credit, declaring that only his courage and good luck made +such a feat possible: it was the attack in which he was said to have +thrown some St. George's Crosses he had in his pocket into the battery +for the first soldiers to take who got there.) + +The French who had occupied the battery fled, and our troops +shouting "Hurrah!" pursued them so far beyond the battery that it +was difficult to call them back. + +The prisoners were brought down from the battery and among them +was a wounded French general, whom the officers surrounded. Crowds +of wounded--some known to Pierre and some unknown--Russians and +French, with faces distorted by suffering, walked, crawled, and were +carried on stretchers from the battery. Pierre again went up onto +the knoll where he had spent over an hour, and of that family circle +which had received him as a member he did not find a single one. There +were many dead whom he did not know, but some he recognized. The young +officer still sat in the same way, bent double, in a pool of blood +at the edge of the earth wall. The red-faced man was still +twitching, but they did not carry him away. + +Pierre ran down the slope once more. + +"Now they will stop it, now they will be horrified at what they have +done!" he thought, aimlessly going toward a crowd of stretcher bearers +moving from the battlefield. + +But behind the veil of smoke the sun was still high, and in front +and especially to the left, near Semenovsk, something seemed to be +seething in the smoke, and the roar of cannon and musketry did not +diminish, but even increased to desperation like a man who, +straining himself, shrieks with all his remaining strength. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +The chief action of the battle of Borodino was fought within the +seven thousand feet between Borodino and Bagration's fleches. Beyond +that space there was, on the one side, a demonstration made by the +Russians with Uvarov's cavalry at midday, and on the other side, +beyond Utitsa, Poniatowski's collision with Tuchkov; but these two +were detached and feeble actions in comparison with what took place in +the center of the battlefield. On the field between Borodino and the +fleches, beside the wood, the chief action of the day took place on an +open space visible from both sides and was fought in the simplest +and most artless way. + +The battle began on both sides with a cannonade from several hundred +guns. + +Then when the whole field was covered with smoke, two divisions, +Campan's and Dessaix's, advanced from the French right, while +Murat's troops advanced on Borodino from their left. + +From the Shevardino Redoubt where Napoleon was standing the +fleches were two thirds of a mile away, and it was more than a mile as +the crow flies to Borodino, so that Napoleon could not see what was +happening there, especially as the smoke mingling with the mist hid +the whole locality. The soldiers of Dessaix's division advancing +against the fleches could only be seen till they had entered the +hollow that lay between them and the fleches. As soon as they had +descended into that hollow, the smoke of the guns and musketry on +the fleches grew so dense that it covered the whole approach on that +side of it. Through the smoke glimpses could be caught of something +black--probably men--and at times the glint of bayonets. But whether +they were moving or stationary, whether they were French or Russian, +could not be discovered from the Shevardino Redoubt. + +The sun had risen brightly and its slanting rays struck straight +into Napoleon's face as, shading his eyes with his hand, he looked +at the fleches. The smoke spread out before them, and at times it +looked as if the smoke were moving, at times as if the troops moved. +Sometimes shouts were heard through the firing, but it was +impossible to tell what was being done there. + +Napoleon, standing on the knoll, looked through a field glass, and +in its small circlet saw smoke and men, sometimes his own and +sometimes Russians, but when he looked again with the naked eye, he +could not tell where what he had seen was. + +He descended the knoll and began walking up and down before it. + +Occasionally he stopped, listened to the firing, and gazed +intently at the battlefield. + +But not only was it impossible to make out what was happening from +where he was standing down below, or from the knoll above on which +some of his generals had taken their stand, but even from the +fleches themselves--in which by this time there were now Russian and +now French soldiers, alternately or together, dead, wounded, alive, +frightened, or maddened--even at those fleches themselves it was +impossible to make out what was taking place. There for several +hours amid incessant cannon and musketry fire, now Russians were +seen alone, now Frenchmen alone, now infantry, and now cavalry: they +appeared, fired, fell, collided, not knowing what to do with one +another, screamed, and ran back again. + +From the battlefield adjutants he had sent out, and orderlies from +his marshals, kept galloping up to Napoleon with reports of the +progress of the action, but all these reports were false, both because +it was impossible in the heat of battle to say what was happening at +any given moment and because many of the adjutants did not go to the +actual place of conflict but reported what they had heard from others; +and also because while an adjutant was riding more than a mile to +Napoleon circumstances changed and the news he brought was already +becoming false. Thus an adjutant galloped up from Murat with tidings +that Borodino had been occupied and the bridge over the Kolocha was in +the hands of the French. The adjutant asked whether Napoleon wished +the troops to cross it? Napoleon gave orders that the troops should +form up on the farther side and wait. But before that order was given- +almost as soon in fact as the adjutant had left Borodino--the bridge +had been retaken by the Russians and burned, in the very skirmish at +which Pierre had been present at the beginning of the battle. + +An adjutant galloped up from the fleches with a pale and +frightened face and reported to Napoleon that their attack had been +repulsed, Campan wounded, and Davout killed; yet at the very time +the adjutant had been told that the French had been repulsed, the +fleches had in fact been recaptured by other French troops, and Davout +was alive and only slightly bruised. On the basis of these necessarily +untrustworthy reports Napoleon gave his orders, which had either +been executed before he gave them or could not be and were not +executed. + +The marshals and generals, who were nearer to the field of battle +but, like Napoleon, did not take part in the actual fighting and +only occasionally went within musket range, made their own +arrangements without asking Napoleon and issued orders where and in +what direction to fire and where cavalry should gallop and infantry +should run. But even their orders, like Napoleon's, were seldom +carried out, and then but partially. For the most part things happened +contrary to their orders. Soldiers ordered to advance ran back on +meeting grapeshot; soldiers ordered to remain where they were, +suddenly, seeing Russians unexpectedly before them, sometimes rushed +back and sometimes forward, and the cavalry dashed without orders in +pursuit of the flying Russians. In this way two cavalry regiments +galloped through the Semenovsk hollow and as soon as they reached +the top of the incline turned round and galloped full speed back +again. The infantry moved in the same way, sometimes running to +quite other places than those they were ordered to go to. All orders +as to where and when to move the guns, when to send infantry to +shoot or horsemen to ride down the Russian infantry--all such orders +were given by the officers on the spot nearest to the units concerned, +without asking either Ney, Davout, or Murat, much less Napoleon. +They did not fear getting into trouble for not fulfilling orders or +for acting on their own initiative, for in battle what is at stake +is what is dearest to man--his own life--and it sometimes seems that +safety lies in running back, sometimes in running forward; and these +men who were right in the heat of the battle acted according to the +mood of the moment. In reality, however, all these movements forward +and backward did not improve or alter the position of the troops. +All their rushing and galloping at one another did little harm, the +harm of disablement and death was caused by the balls and bullets that +flew over the fields on which these men were floundering about. As +soon as they left the place where the balls and bullets were flying +about, their superiors, located in the background, re-formed them +and brought them under discipline and under the influence of that +discipline led them back to the zone of fire, where under the +influence of fear of death they lost their discipline and rushed about +according to the chance promptings of the throng. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +Napoleon's generals--Davout, Ney, and Murat, who were near that +region of fire and sometimes even entered it--repeatedly led into it +huge masses of well-ordered troops. But contrary to what had always +happened in their former battles, instead of the news they expected of +the enemy's flight, these orderly masses returned thence as +disorganized and terrified mobs. The generals re-formed them, but +their numbers constantly decreased. In the middle of the day Murat +sent his adjutant to Napoleon to demand reinforcements. + +Napoleon sat at the foot of the knoll, drinking punch, when +Murat's adjutant galloped up with an assurance that the Russians would +be routed if His Majesty would let him have another division. + +"Reinforcements?" said Napoleon in a tone of stern surprise, looking +at the adjutant--a handsome lad with long black curls arranged like +Murat's own--as though he did not understand his words. + +"Reinforcements!" thought Napoleon to himself. "How can they need +reinforcements when they already have half the army directed against a +weak, unentrenched Russian wing?" + +"Tell the King of Naples," said he sternly, "that it is not noon +yet, and I don't yet see my chessboard clearly. Go!..." + +The handsome boy adjutant with the long hair sighed deeply without +removing his hand from his hat and galloped back to where men were +being slaughtered. + +Napoleon rose and having summoned Caulaincourt and Berthier began +talking to them about matters unconnected with the battle. + +In the midst of this conversation, which was beginning to interest +Napoleon, Berthier's eyes turned to look at a general with a suite, +who was galloping toward the knoll on a lathering horse. It was +Belliard. Having dismounted he went up to the Emperor with rapid +strides and in a loud voice began boldly demonstrating the necessity +of sending reinforcements. He swore on his honor that the Russians +were lost if the Emperor would give another division. + +Napoleon shrugged his shoulders and continued to pace up and down +without replying. Belliard began talking loudly and eagerly to the +generals of the suite around him. + +"You are very fiery, Belliard," said Napoleon, when he again came up +to the general. "In the heat of a battle it is easy to make a mistake. +Go and have another look and then come back to me." + +Before Belliard was out of sight, a messenger from another part of +the battlefield galloped up. + +"Now then, what do you want?" asked Napoleon in the tone of a man +irritated at being continually disturbed. + +"Sire, the prince..." began the adjutant. + +"Asks for reinforcements?" said Napoleon with an angry gesture. + +The adjutant bent his head affirmatively and began to report, but +the Emperor turned from him, took a couple of steps, stopped, came +back, and called Berthier. + +"We must give reserves," he said, moving his arms slightly apart. +"Who do you think should be sent there?" he asked of Berthier (whom he +subsequently termed "that gosling I have made an eagle"). + +"Send Claparede's division, sire," replied Berthier, who knew all +the divisions regiments, and battalions by heart. + +Napoleon nodded assent. + +The adjutant galloped to Claparede's division and a few minutes +later the Young Guards stationed behind the knoll moved forward. +Napoleon gazed silently in that direction. + +"No!" he suddenly said to Berthier. "I can't send Claparede. Send +Friant's division." + +Though there was no advantage in sending Friant's division instead +of Claparede's, and even in obvious inconvenience and delay in +stopping Claparede and sending Friant now, the order was carried out +exactly. Napoleon did not notice that in regard to his army he was +playing the part of a doctor who hinders by his medicines--a role he +so justly understood and condemned. + +Friant's division disappeared as the others had done into the +smoke of the battlefield. From all sides adjutants continued to arrive +at a gallop and as if by agreement all said the same thing. They all +asked for reinforcements and all said that the Russians were holding +their positions and maintaining a hellish fire under which the +French army was melting away. + +Napoleon sat on a campstool, wrapped in thought. + +M. de Beausset, the man so fond of travel, having fasted since +morning, came up to the Emperor and ventured respectfully to suggest +lunch to His Majesty. + +"I hope I may now congratulate Your Majesty on a victory?" said he. + +Napoleon silently shook his head in negation. Assuming the +negation to refer only to the victory and not to the lunch, M. de +Beausset ventured with respectful jocularity to remark that there is +no reason for not having lunch when one can get it. + +"Go away..." exclaimed Napoleon suddenly and morosely, and turned +aside. + +A beatific smile of regret, repentance, and ecstasy beamed on M. +de Beausset's face and he glided away to the other generals. + +Napoleon was experiencing a feeling of depression like that of an +ever-lucky gambler who, after recklessly flinging money about and +always winning, suddenly just when he has calculated all the chances +of the game, finds that the more he considers his play the more surely +he loses. + +His troops were the same, his generals the same, the same +preparations had been made, the same dispositions, and the same +proclamation courte et energique, he himself was still the same: he +knew that and knew that he was now even more experienced and +skillful than before. Even the enemy was the same as at Austerlitz and +Friedland--yet the terrible stroke of his arm had supernaturally +become impotent. + +All the old methods that had been unfailingly crowned with +success: the concentration of batteries on one point, an attack by +reserves to break the enemy's line, and a cavalry attack by "the men +of iron," all these methods had already been employed, yet not only +was there no victory, but from all sides came the same news of +generals killed and wounded, of reinforcements needed, of the +impossibility of driving back the Russians, and of disorganization +among his own troops. + +Formerly, after he had given two or three orders and uttered a few +phrases, marshals and adjutants had come galloping up with +congratulations and happy faces, announcing the trophies taken, the +corps of prisoners, bundles of enemy eagles and standards, cannon +and stores, and Murat had only begged leave to loose the cavalry to +gather in the baggage wagons. So it had been at Lodi, Marengo, Arcola, +Jena, Austerlitz, Wagram, and so on. But now something strange was +happening to his troops. + +Despite news of the capture of the fleches, Napoleon saw that this +was not the same, not at all the same, as what had happened in his +former battles. He saw that what he was feeling was felt by all the +men about him experienced in the art of war. All their faces looked +dejected, and they all shunned one another's eyes--only a de +Beausset could fail to grasp the meaning of what was happening. + +But Napoleon with his long experience of war well knew the meaning +of a battle not gained by the attacking side in eight hours, after all +efforts had been expended. He knew that it was a lost battle and +that the least accident might now--with the fight balanced on such a +strained center--destroy him and his army. + +When he ran his mind over the whole of this strange Russian campaign +in which not one battle had been won, and in which not a flag, or +cannon, or army corps had been captured in two months, when he +looked at the concealed depression on the faces around him and heard +reports of the Russians still holding their ground--a terrible feeling +like a nightmare took possession of him, and all the unlucky accidents +that might destroy him occurred to his mind. The Russians might fall +on his left wing, might break through his center, he himself might +be killed by a stray cannon ball. All this was possible. In former +battles he had only considered the possibilities of success, but now +innumerable unlucky chances presented themselves, and he expected them +all. Yes, it was like a dream in which a man fancies that a ruffian is +coming to attack him, and raises his arm to strike that ruffian a +terrible blow which he knows should annihilate him, but then feels +that his arm drops powerless and limp like a rag, and the horror of +unavoidable destruction seizes him in his helplessness. + +The news that the Russians were attacking the left flank of the +French army aroused that horror in Napoleon. He sat silently on a +campstool below the knoll, with head bowed and elbows on his knees. +Berthier approached and suggested that they should ride along the line +to ascertain the position of affairs. + +"What? What do you say?" asked Napoleon. "Yes, tell them to bring me +my horse." + +He mounted and rode toward Semenovsk. + +Amid the powder smoke, slowly dispersing over the whole space +through which Napoleon rode, horses and men were lying in pools of +blood, singly or in heaps. Neither Napoleon nor any of his generals +had ever before seen such horrors or so many slain in such a small +area. The roar of guns, that had not ceased for ten hours, wearied the +ear and gave a peculiar significance to the spectacle, as music does +to tableaux vivants. Napoleon rode up the high ground at Semenovsk, +and through the smoke saw ranks of men in uniforms of a color +unfamiliar to him. They were Russians. + +The Russians stood in serried ranks behind Semenovsk village and its +knoll, and their guns boomed incessantly along their line and sent +forth clouds of smoke. It was no longer a battle: it was a +continuous slaughter which could be of no avail either to the French +or the Russians. Napoleon stopped his horse and again fell into the +reverie from which Berthier had aroused him. He could not stop what +was going on before him and around him and was supposed to be directed +by him and to depend on him, and from its lack of success this affair, +for the first time, seemed to him unnecessary and horrible. + +One of the generals rode up to Napoleon and ventured to offer to +lead the Old Guard into action. Ney and Berthier, standing near +Napoleon, exchanged looks and smiled contemptuously at this +general's senseless offer. + +Napoleon bowed his head and remained silent a long time. + +"At eight hundred leagues from France, I will not have my Guard +destroyed!" he said, and turning his horse rode back to Shevardino. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +On the rug-covered bench where Pierre had seen him in the morning +sat Kutuzov, his gray head hanging, his heavy body relaxed. He gave no +orders, but only assented to or dissented from what others suggested. + +"Yes, yes, do that," he replied to various proposals. "Yes, yes: go, +dear boy, and have a look," he would say to one or another of those +about him; or, "No, don't, we'd better wait!" He listened to the +reports that were brought him and gave directions when his +subordinates demanded that of him; but when listening to the reports +it seemed as if he were not interested in the import of the words +spoken, but rather in something else--in the expression of face and +tone of voice of those who were reporting. By long years of military +experience he knew, and with the wisdom of age understood, that it +is impossible for one man to direct hundreds of thousands of others +struggling with death, and he knew that the result of a battle is +decided not by the orders of a commander in chief, nor the place where +the troops are stationed, nor by the number of cannon or of +slaughtered men, but by that intangible force called the spirit of the +army, and he watched this force and guided it in as far as that was in +his power. + +Kutuzov's general expression was one of concentrated quiet +attention, and his face wore a strained look as if he found it +difficult to master the fatigue of his old and feeble body. + +At eleven o'clock they brought him news that the fleches captured by +the French had been retaken, but that Prince Bagration was wounded. +Kutuzov groaned and swayed his head. + +"Ride over to Prince Peter Ivanovich and find out about it exactly," +he said to one of his adjutants, and then turned to the Duke of +Wurttemberg who was standing behind him. + +"Will Your Highness please take command of the first army?" + +Soon after the duke's departure--before he could possibly have +reached Semenovsk--his adjutant came back from him and told Kutuzov +that the duke asked for more troops. + +Kutuzov made a grimace and sent an order to Dokhturov to take over +the command of the first army, and a request to the duke--whom he said +he could not spare at such an important moment--to return to him. When +they brought him news that Murat had been taken prisoner, and the +staff officers congratulated him, Kutuzov smiled. + +"Wait a little, gentlemen," said he. "The battle is won, and there +is nothing extraordinary in the capture of Murat. Still, it is +better to wait before we rejoice." + +But he sent an adjutant to take the news round the army. + +When Scherbinin came galloping from the left flank with news that +the French had captured the fleches and the village of Semenovsk, +Kutuzov, guessing by the sounds of the battle and by Scherbinin's +looks that the news was bad, rose as if to stretch his legs and, +taking Scherbinin's arm, led him aside. + +"Go, my dear fellow," he said to Ermolov, "and see whether something +can't be done." + +Kutuzov was in Gorki, near the center of the Russian position. The +attack directed by Napoleon against our left flank had been several +times repulsed. In the center the French had not got beyond +Borodino, and on their left flank Uvarov's cavalry had put the +French to flight. + +Toward three o'clock the French attacks ceased. On the faces of +all who came from the field of battle, and of those who stood around +him, Kutuzov noticed an expression of extreme tension. He was +satisfied with the day's success--a success exceeding his +expectations, but the old man's strength was failing him. Several +times his head dropped low as if it were falling and he dozed off. +Dinner was brought him. + +Adjutant General Wolzogen, the man who when riding past Prince +Andrew had said, "the war should be extended widely," and whom +Bagration so detested, rode up while Kutuzov was at dinner. Wolzogen +had come from Barclay de Tolly to report on the progress of affairs on +the left flank. The sagacious Barclay de Tolly, seeing crowds of +wounded men running back and the disordered rear of the army, +weighed all the circumstances, concluded that the battle was lost, and +sent his favorite officer to the commander in chief with that news. + +Kutuzov was chewing a piece of roast chicken with difficulty and +glanced at Wolzogen with eyes that brightened under their puckering +lids. + +Wolzogen, nonchalantly stretching his legs, approached Kutuzov +with a half-contemptuous smile on his lips, scarcely touching the peak +of his cap. + +He treated his Serene Highness with a somewhat affected +nonchalance intended to show that, as a highly trained military man, +he left it to Russians to make an idol of this useless old man, but +that he knew whom he was dealing with. "Der alte Herr" (as in their +own set the Germans called Kutuzov) "is making himself very +comfortable," thought Wolzogen, and looking severely at the dishes +in front of Kutuzov he began to report to "the old gentleman" the +position of affairs on the left flank as Barclay had ordered him to +and as he himself had seen and understood it. + +"All the points of our position are in the enemy's hands and we +cannot dislodge them for lack of troops, the men are running away +and it is impossible to stop them," he reported. + +Kutuzov ceased chewing and fixed an astonished gaze on Wolzogen, +as if not understand what was said to him. Wolzogen, noticing "the old +gentleman's" agitation, said with a smile: + +"I have not considered it right to conceal from your Serene Highness +what I have seen. The troops are in complete disorder..." + +"You have seen? You have seen?..." Kutuzov shouted frowning, and +rising quickly he went up to Wolzogen. + +"How... how dare you!..." he shouted, choking and making a +threatening gesture with his trembling arms: "How dare you, sir, say +that to me? You know nothing about it. Tell General Barclay from me +that his information is incorrect and that the real course of the +battle is better known to me, the commander in chief, than to him." + +Wolzogen was about to make a rejoinder, but Kutuzov interrupted him. + +"The enemy has been repulsed on the left and defeated on the right +flank. If you have seen amiss, sir, do not allow yourself to say +what you don't know! Be so good as to ride to General Barclay and +inform him of my firm intention to attack the enemy tomorrow," said +Kutuzov sternly. + +All were silent, and the only sound audible was the heavy +breathing of the panting old general. + +"They are repulsed everywhere, for which I thank God and our brave +army! The enemy is beaten, and tomorrow we shall drive him from the +sacred soil of Russia," said Kutuzov crossing himself, and he suddenly +sobbed as his eyes filled with tears. + +Wolzogen, shrugging his shoulders and curling his lips, stepped +silently aside, marveling at "the old gentleman's" conceited +stupidity. + +"Ah, here he is, my hero!" said Kutuzov to a portly, handsome, +dark-haired general who was just ascending the knoll. + +This was Raevski, who had spent the whole day at the most +important part of the field of Borodino. + +Raevski reported that the troops were firmly holding their ground +and that the French no longer ventured to attack. + +After hearing him, Kutuzov said in French: + +"Then you do not think, like some others, that we must retreat?" + +"On the contrary, your Highness, in indecisive actions it is +always the most stubborn who remain victors," replied Raevski, "and in +my opinion..." + +"Kaysarov!" Kutuzov called to his adjutant. "Sit down and write +out the order of the day for tomorrow. And you," he continued, +addressing another, "ride along the line and that tomorrow we attack." + +While Kutuzov was talking to Raevski and dictating the order of +the day, Wolzogen returned from Barclay and said that General +Barclay wished to have written confirmation of the order the field +marshal had given. + +Kutuzov, without looking at Wolzogen, gave directions for the +order to be written out which the former commander in chief, to +avoid personal responsibility, very judiciously wished to receive. + +And by means of that mysterious indefinable bond which maintains +throughout an army one and the same temper, known as "the spirit of +the army," and which constitutes the sinew of war, Kutuzov's words, +his order for a battle next day, immediately became known from one end +of the army to the other. + +It was far from being the same words or the same order that +reached the farthest links of that chain. The tales passing from mouth +to mouth at different ends of the army did not even resemble what +Kutuzov had said, but the sense of his words spread everywhere because +what he said was not the outcome of cunning calculations, but of a +feeling that lay in the commander in chief's soul as in that of +every Russian. + +And on learning that tomorrow they were to attack the enemy, and +hearing from the highest quarters a confirmation of what they wanted +to believe, the exhausted, wavering men felt comforted and inspirited. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +Prince Andrew's regiment was among the reserves which till after one +o'clock were stationed inactive behind Semenovsk, under heavy +artillery fire. Toward two o'clock the regiment, having already lost +more than two hundred men, was moved forward into a trampled +oatfield in the gap between Semenovsk and the Knoll Battery, where +thousands of men perished that day and on which an intense, +concentrated fire from several hundred enemy guns was directed between +one and two o'clock. + +Without moving from that spot or firing a single shot the regiment +here lost another third of its men. From in front and especially +from the right, in the unlifting smoke the guns boomed, and out of the +mysterious domain of smoke that overlay the whole space in front, +quick hissing cannon balls and slow whistling shells flew unceasingly. +At times, as if to allow them a respite, a quarter of an hour passed +during which the cannon balls and shells all flew overhead, but +sometimes several men were torn from the regiment in a minute and +the slain were continually being dragged away and the wounded +carried off. + +With each fresh blow less and less chance of life remained for those +not yet killed. The regiment stood in columns of battalion, three +hundred paces apart, but nevertheless the men were always in one and +the same mood. All alike were taciturn and morose. Talk was rarely +heard in the ranks, and it ceased altogether every time the thud of +a successful shot and the cry of "stretchers!" was heard. Most of +the time, by their officers' order, the men sat on the ground. One, +having taken off his shako, carefully loosened the gathers of its +lining and drew them tight again; another, rubbing some dry clay +between his palms, polished his bayonet; another fingered the strap +and pulled the buckle of his bandolier, while another smoothed and +refolded his leg bands and put his boots on again. Some built little +houses of the tufts in the plowed ground, or plaited baskets from +the straw in the cornfield. All seemed fully absorbed in these +pursuits. When men were killed or wounded, when rows of stretchers +went past, when some troops retreated, and when great masses of the +enemy came into view through the smoke, no one paid any attention to +these things. But when our artillery or cavalry advanced or some of +our infantry were seen to move forward, words of approval were heard +on all sides. But the liveliest attention was attracted by occurrences +quite apart from, and unconnected with, the battle. It was as if the +minds of these morally exhausted men found relief in everyday, +commonplace occurrences. A battery of artillery was passing in front +of the regiment. The horse of an ammunition cart put its leg over a +trace. "Hey, look at the trace horse!... Get her leg out! She'll +fall.... Ah, they don't see it!" came identical shouts from the +ranks all along the regiment. Another time, general attention was +attracted by a small brown dog, coming heaven knows whence, which +trotted in a preoccupied manner in front of the ranks with tail +stiffly erect till suddenly a shell fell close by, when it yelped, +tucked its tail between its legs, and darted aside. Yells and +shrieks of laughter rose from the whole regiment. But such +distractions lasted only a moment, and for eight hours the men had +been inactive, without food, in constant fear of death, and their pale +and gloomy faces grew ever paler and gloomier. + +Prince Andrew, pale and gloomy like everyone in the regiment, +paced up and down from the border of one patch to another, at the edge +of the meadow beside an oatfield, with head bowed and arms behind +his back. There was nothing for him to do and no orders to be given. +Everything went on of itself. The killed were dragged from the +front, the wounded carried away, and the ranks closed up. If any +soldiers ran to the rear they returned immediately and hastily. At +first Prince Andrew, considering it his duty to rouse the courage of +the men and to set them an example, walked about among the ranks, +but he soon became convinced that this was unnecessary and that +there was nothing he could teach them. All the powers of his soul, +as of every soldier there, were unconsciously bent on avoiding the +contemplation of the horrors of their situation. He walked along the +meadow, dragging his feet, rustling the grass, and gazing at the +dust that covered his boots; now he took big strides trying to keep to +the footprints left on the meadow by the mowers, then he counted his +steps, calculating how often he must walk from one strip to another to +walk a mile, then he stripped the flowers from the wormwood that +grew along a boundary rut, rubbed them in his palms, and smelled their +pungent, sweetly bitter scent. Nothing remained of the previous +day's thoughts. He thought of nothing. He listened with weary ears +to the ever-recurring sounds, distinguishing the whistle of flying +projectiles from the booming of the reports, glanced at the tiresomely +familiar faces of the men of the first battalion, and waited. "Here it +comes... this one is coming our way again!" he thought, listening to +an approaching whistle in the hidden region of smoke. "One, another! +Again! It has hit...." He stopped and looked at the ranks. "No, it has +gone over. But this one has hit!" And again he started trying to reach +the boundary strip in sixteen paces. A whizz and a thud! Five paces +from him, a cannon ball tore up the dry earth and disappeared. A chill +ran down his back. Again he glanced at the ranks. Probably many had +been hit--a large crowd had gathered near the second battalion. + +"Adjutant!" he shouted. "Order them not to crowd together." + +The adjutant, having obeyed this instruction, approached Prince +Andrew. From the other side a battalion commander rode up. + +"Look out!" came a frightened cry from a soldier and, like a bird +whirring in rapid flight and alighting on the ground, a shell +dropped with little noise within two steps of Prince Andrew and +close to the battalion commander's horse. The horse first, +regardless of whether it was right or wrong to show fear, snorted, +reared almost throwing the major, and galloped aside. The horse's +terror infected the men. + +"Lie down!" cried the adjutant, throwing himself flat on the ground. + +Prince Andrew hesitated. The smoking shell spun like a top between +him and the prostrate adjutant, near a wormwood plant between the +field and the meadow. + +"Can this be death?" thought Prince Andrew, looking with a quite +new, envious glance at the grass, the wormwood, and the streamlet of +smoke that curled up from the rotating black ball. "I cannot, I do not +wish to die. I love life--I love this grass, this earth, this air...." +He thought this, and at the same time remembered that people were +looking at him. + +"It's shameful, sir!" he said to the adjutant. "What..." + +He did not finish speaking. At one and the same moment came the +sound of an explosion, a whistle of splinters as from a breaking +window frame, a suffocating smell of powder, and Prince Andrew started +to one side, raising his arm, and fell on his chest. Several +officers ran up to him. From the right side of his abdomen, blood +was welling out making a large stain on the grass. + +The militiamen with stretchers who were called up stood behind the +officers. Prince Andrew lay on his chest with his face in the grass, +breathing heavily and noisily. + +"What are you waiting for? Come along!" + +The peasants went up and took him by his shoulders and legs, but +he moaned piteously and, exchanging looks, they set him down again. + +"Pick him up, lift him, it's all the same!" cried someone. + +They again took him by the shoulders and laid him on the stretcher. + +"Ah, God! My God! What is it? The stomach? That means death! My +God!"--voices among the officers were heard saying. + +"It flew a hair's breadth past my ear," said the adjutant. + +The peasants, adjusting the stretcher to their shoulders, started +hurriedly along the path they had trodden down, to the dressing +station. + +"Keep in step! Ah... those peasants!" shouted an officer, seizing by +their shoulders and checking the peasants, who were walking unevenly +and jolting the stretcher. + +"Get into step, Fedor... I say, Fedor!" said the foremost peasant. + +"Now that's right!" said the one behind joyfully, when he had got +into step. + +"Your excellency! Eh, Prince!" said the trembling voice of Timokhin, +who had run up and was looking down on the stretcher. + +Prince Andrew opened his eyes and looked up at the speaker from +the stretcher into which his head had sunk deep and again his +eyelids drooped. + + +The militiamen carried Prince Andrew to dressing station by the +wood, where wagons were stationed. The dressing station consisted of +three tents with flaps turned back, pitched at the edge of a birch +wood. In the wood, wagons and horses were standing. The horses were +eating oats from their movable troughs and sparrows flew down and +pecked the grains that fell. Some crows, scenting blood, flew among +the birch trees cawing impatiently. Around the tents, over more than +five acres, bloodstained men in various garbs stood, sat, or lay. +Around the wounded stood crowds of soldier stretcher-bearers with +dismal and attentive faces, whom the officers keeping order tried in +vain to drive from the spot. Disregarding the officers' orders, the +soldiers stood leaning against their stretchers and gazing intently, +as if trying to comprehend the difficult problem of what was taking +place before them. From the tents came now loud angry cries and now +plaintive groans. Occasionally dressers ran out to fetch water, or +to point out those who were to be brought in next. The wounded men +awaiting their turn outside the tents groaned, sighed, wept, screamed, +swore, or asked for vodka. Some were delirious. Prince Andrew's +bearers, stepping over the wounded who had not yet been bandaged, took +him, as a regimental commander, close up to one of the tents and there +stopped, awaiting instructions. Prince Andrew opened his eyes and +for a long time could not make out what was going on around him. He +remembered the meadow, the wormwood, the field, the whirling black +ball, and his sudden rush of passionate love of life. Two steps from +him, leaning against a branch and talking loudly and attracting +general attention, stood a tall, handsome, black-haired +noncommissioned officer with a bandaged head. He had been wounded in +the head and leg by bullets. Around him, eagerly listening to his +talk, a crowd of wounded and stretcher-bearers was gathered. + +"We kicked him out from there so that he chucked everything, we +grabbed the King himself!" cried he, looking around him with eyes that +glittered with fever. "If only reserves had come up just then, lads, +there wouldn't have been nothing left of him! I tell you surely..." + +Like all the others near the speaker, Prince Andrew looked at him +with shining eyes and experienced a sense of comfort. "But isn't it +all the same now?" thought he. "And what will be there, and what has +there been here? Why was I so reluctant to part with life? There was +something in this life I did not and do not understand." + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + + +One of the doctors came out of the tent in a bloodstained apron, +holding a cigar between the thumb and little finger of one of his +small bloodstained hands, so as not to smear it. He raised his head +and looked about him, but above the level of the wounded men. He +evidently wanted a little respite. After turning his head from right +to left for some time, he sighed and looked down. + +"All right, immediately," he replied to a dresser who pointed Prince +Andrew out to him, and he told them to carry him into the tent. + +Murmurs arose among the wounded who were waiting. + +"It seems that even in the next world only the gentry are to have +a chance!" remarked one. + +Prince Andrew was carried in and laid on a table that had only +just been cleared and which a dresser was washing down. Prince +Andrew could not make out distinctly what was in that tent. The +pitiful groans from all sides and the torturing pain in his thigh, +stomach, and back distracted him. All he saw about him merged into a +general impression of naked, bleeding human bodies that seemed to fill +the whole of the low tent, as a few weeks previously, on that hot +August day, such bodies had filled the dirty pond beside the +Smolensk road. Yes, it was the same flesh, the same chair a canon, the +sight of which had even then filled him with horror, as by a +presentiment. + +There were three operating tables in the tent. Two were occupied, +and on the third they placed Prince Andrew. For a little while he +was left alone and involuntarily witnessed what was taking place on +the other two tables. On the nearest one sat a Tartar, probably a +Cossack, judging by the uniform thrown down beside him. Four +soldiers were holding him, and a spectacled doctor was cutting into +his muscular brown back. + +"Ooh, ooh, ooh!" grunted the Tartar, and suddenly lifting up his +swarthy snub-nosed face with its high cheekbones, and baring his white +teeth, he began to wriggle and twitch his body and utter piercing, +ringing, and prolonged yells. On the other table, round which many +people were crowding, a tall well-fed man lay on his back with his +head thrown back. His curly hair, its color, and the shape of his head +seemed strangely familiar to Prince Andrew. Several dressers were +pressing on his chest to hold him down. One large, white, plump leg +twitched rapidly all the time with a feverish tremor. The man was +sobbing and choking convulsively. Two doctors--one of whom was pale +and trembling--were silently doing something to this man's other, gory +leg. When he had finished with the Tartar, whom they covered with an +overcoat, the spectacled doctor came up to Prince Andrew, wiping his +hands. + +He glanced at Prince Andrew's face and quickly turned away. + +"Undress him! What are you waiting for?" he cried angrily to the +dressers. + +His very first, remotest recollections of childhood came back to +Prince Andrew's mind when the dresser with sleeves rolled up began +hastily to undo the buttons of his clothes and undressed him. The +doctor bent down over the wound, felt it, and sighed deeply. Then he +made a sign to someone, and the torturing pain in his abdomen caused +Prince Andrew to lose consciousness. When he came to himself the +splintered portions of his thighbone had been extracted, the torn +flesh cut away, and the wound bandaged. Water was being sprinkled on +his face. As soon as Prince Andrew opened his eyes, the doctor bent +over, kissed him silently on the lips, and hurried away. + +After the sufferings he had been enduring, Prince Andrew enjoyed a +blissful feeling such as he had not experienced for a long time. All +the best and happiest moments of his life--especially his earliest +childhood, when he used to be undressed and put to bed, and when +leaning over him his nurse sang him to sleep and he, burying his +head in the pillow, felt happy in the mere consciousness of life- +returned to his memory, not merely as something past but as +something present. + +The doctors were busily engaged with the wounded man the shape of +whose head seemed familiar to Prince Andrew: they were lifting him +up and trying to quiet him. + +"Show it to me.... Oh, ooh... Oh! Oh, ooh!" his frightened moans +could be heard, subdued by suffering and broken by sobs. + +Hearing those moans Prince Andrew wanted to weep. +Whether because he was dying without glory, or because he was sorry to +part with life, or because of those memories of a childhood that could +not return, or because he was suffering and others were suffering +and that man near him was groaning so piteously--he felt like +weeping childlike, kindly, and almost happy tears. + +The wounded man was shown his amputated leg stained with clotted +blood and with the boot still on. + +"Oh! Oh, ooh!" he sobbed, like a woman. + +The doctor who had been standing beside him, preventing Prince +Andrew from seeing his face, moved away. + +"My God! What is this? Why is he here?" said Prince Andrew to +himself. + +In the miserable, sobbing, enfeebled man whose leg had just been +amputated, he recognized Anatole Kuragin. Men were supporting him in +their arms and offering him a glass of water, but his trembling, +swollen lips could not grasp its rim. Anatole was sobbing painfully. +"Yes, it is he! Yes, that man is somehow closely and painfully +connected with me," thought Prince Andrew, not yet clearly grasping +what he saw before him. "What is the connection of that man with my +childhood and life?" he asked himself without finding an answer. And +suddenly a new unexpected memory from that realm of pure and loving +childhood presented itself to him. He remembered Natasha as he had +seen her for the first time at the ball in 1810, with her slender neck +and arms and with a frightened happy face ready for rapture, and +love and tenderness for her, stronger and more vivid than ever, +awoke in his soul. He now remembered the connection that existed +between himself and this man who was dimly gazing at him through tears +that filled his swollen eyes. He remembered everything, and ecstatic +pity and love for that man overflowed his happy heart. + +Prince Andrew could no longer restrain himself and wept tender +loving tears for his fellow men, for himself, and for his own and +their errors. + +"Compassion, love of our brothers, for those who love us and for +those who hate us, love of our enemies; yes, that love which God +preached on earth and which Princess Mary taught me and I did not +understand--that is what made me sorry to part with life, that is what +remained for me had I lived. But now it is too late. I know it!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + + +The terrible spectacle of the battlefield covered with dead and +wounded, together with the heaviness of his head and the news that +some twenty generals he knew personally had been killed or wounded, +and the consciousness of the impotence of his once mighty arm, +produced an unexpected impression on Napoleon who usually liked to +look at the killed and wounded, thereby, he considered, testing his +strength of mind. This day the horrible appearance of the +battlefield overcame that strength of mind which he thought +constituted his merit and his greatness. He rode hurriedly from the +battlefield and returned to the Shevardino knoll, where he sat on +his campstool, his sallow face swollen and heavy, his eyes dim, his +nose red, and his voice hoarse, involuntarily listening, with downcast +eyes, to the sounds of firing. With painful dejection he awaited the +end of this action, in which he regarded himself as a participant +and which he was unable to arrest. A personal, human feeling for a +brief moment got the better of the artificial phantasm of life he +had served so long. He felt in his own person the sufferings and death +he had witnessed on the battlefield. The heaviness of his head and +chest reminded him of the possibility of suffering and death for +himself. At that moment he did not desire Moscow, or victory, or glory +(what need had he for any more glory?). The one thing he wished for +was rest, tranquillity, and freedom. But when he had been on the +Semenovsk heights the artillery commander had proposed to him to bring +several batteries of artillery up to those heights to strengthen the +fire on the Russian troops crowded in front of Knyazkovo. Napoleon had +assented and had given orders that news should be brought to him of +the effect those batteries produced. + +An adjutant came now to inform him that the fire of two hundred guns +had been concentrated on the Russians, as he had ordered, but that +they still held their ground. + +"Our fire is mowing them down by rows, but still they hold on," said +the adjutant. + +"They want more!..." said Napoleon in a hoarse voice. + +"Sire?" asked the adjutant who had not heard the remark. + +"They want more!" croaked Napoleon frowning. "Let them have it!" + +Even before he gave that order the thing he did not desire, and +for which he gave the order only because he thought it was expected of +him, was being done. And he fell back into that artificial realm of +imaginary greatness, and again--as a horse walking a treadmill +thinks it is doing something for itself--he submissively fulfilled the +cruel, sad, gloomy, and inhuman role predestined for him. + +And not for that day and hour alone were the mind and conscience +darkened of this man on whom the responsibility for what was happening +lay more than on all the others who took part in it. Never to the +end of his life could he understand goodness, beauty, or truth, or the +significance of his actions which were too contrary to goodness and +truth, too remote from everything human, for him ever to be able to +grasp their meaning. He could not disavow his actions, belauded as +they were by half the world, and so he had to repudiate truth, +goodness, and all humanity. + +Not only on that day, as he rode over the battlefield strewn with +men killed and maimed (by his will as he believed), did he reckon as +he looked at them how many Russians there were for each Frenchman and, +deceiving himself, find reason for rejoicing in the calculation that +there were five Russians for every Frenchman. Not on that day alone +did he write in a letter to Paris that "the battle field was +superb," because fifty thousand corpses lay there, but even on the +island of St. Helena in the peaceful solitude where he said he +intended to devote his leisure to an account of the great deeds he had +done, he wrote: + + +The Russian war should have been the most popular war of modern +times: it was a war of good sense, for real interests, for the +tranquillity and security of all; it was purely pacific and +conservative. + +It was a war for a great cause, the end of uncertainties and the +beginning of security. A new horizon and new labors were opening +out, full of well-being and prosperity for all. The European system +was already founded; all that remained was to organize it. + +Satisfied on these great points and with tranquility everywhere, I +too should have had my Congress and my Holy Alliance. Those ideas were +stolen from me. In that reunion of great sovereigns we should have +discussed our interests like one family, and have rendered account +to the peoples as clerk to master. + +Europe would in this way soon have been, in fact, but one people, +and anyone who traveled anywhere would have found himself always in +the common fatherland. I should have demanded the freedom of all +navigable rivers for everybody, that the seas should be common to all, +and that the great standing armies should be reduced henceforth to +mere guards for the sovereigns. + +On returning to France, to the bosom of the great, strong, +magnificent, peaceful, and glorious fatherland, I should have +proclaimed her frontiers immutable; all future wars purely +defensive, all aggrandizement antinational. I should have associated +my son in the Empire; my dictatorship would have been finished, and +his constitutional reign would have begun. + +Paris would have been the capital of the world, and the French the +envy of the nations! + +My leisure then, and my old age, would have been devoted, in company +with the Empress and during the royal apprenticeship of my son, to +leisurely visiting, with our own horses and like a true country +couple, every corner of the Empire, receiving complaints, redressing +wrongs, and scattering public buildings and benefactions on all +sides and everywhere. + + +Napoleon, predestined by Providence for the gloomy role of +executioner of the peoples, assured himself that the aim of his +actions had been the peoples' welfare and that he could control the +fate of millions and by the employment of power confer benefactions. + + +"Of four hundred thousand who crossed the Vistula," he wrote further +of the Russian war, "half were Austrians, Prussians, Saxons, Poles, +Bavarians, Wurttembergers, Mecklenburgers, Spaniards, Italians, and +Neapolitans. The Imperial army, strictly speaking, was one third +composed of Dutch, Belgians, men from the borders of the Rhine, +Piedmontese, Swiss, Genevese, Tuscans, Romans, inhabitants of the +Thirty-second Military Division, of Bremen, of Hamburg, and so on: +it included scarcely a hundred and forty thousand who spoke French. +The Russian expedition actually cost France less than fifty thousand +men; the Russian army in its retreat from Vilna to Moscow lost in +the various battles four times more men than the French army; the +burning of Moscow cost the lives of a hundred thousand Russians who +died of cold and want in the woods; finally, in its march from +Moscow to the Oder the Russian army also suffered from the severity of +the season; so that by the the time it reached Vilna it numbered +only fifty thousand, and at Kalisch less than eighteen thousand." + + +He imagined that the war with Russia came about by his will, and the +horrors that occurred did not stagger his soul. He boldly took the +whole responsibility for what happened, and his darkened mind found +justification in the belief that among the hundreds of thousands who +perished there were fewer Frenchmen than Hessians and Bavarians. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + + +Several tens of thousands of the slain lay in diverse postures and +various uniforms on the fields and meadows belonging to the Davydov +family and to the crown serfs--those fields and meadows where for +hundreds of years the peasants of Borodino, Gorki, Shevardino, and +Semenovsk had reaped their harvests and pastured their cattle. At +the dressing stations the grass and earth were soaked with blood for a +space of some three acres around. Crowds of men of various arms, +wounded and unwounded, with frightened faces, dragged themselves +back to Mozhaysk from the one army and back to Valuevo from the other. +Other crowds, exhausted and hungry, went forward led by their +officers. Others held their ground and continued to fire. + +Over the whole field, previously so gaily beautiful with the glitter +of bayonets and cloudlets of smoke in the morning sun, there now +spread a mist of damp and smoke and a strange acid smell of +saltpeter and blood. Clouds gathered and drops of rain began to fall +on the dead and wounded, on the frightened, exhausted, and +hesitating men, as if to say: "Enough, men! Enough! Cease... bethink +yourselves! What are you doing?" + +To the men of both sides alike, worn out by want of food and rest, +it began equally to appear doubtful whether they should continue to +slaughter one another; all the faces expressed hesitation, and the +question arose in every soul: "For what, for whom, must I kill and +be killed?... You may go and kill whom you please, but I don't want to +do so anymore!" By evening this thought had ripened in every soul. +At any moment these men might have been seized with horror at what +they were doing and might have thrown up everything and run away +anywhere. + +But though toward the end of the battle the men felt all the +horror of what they were doing, though they would have been glad to +leave off, some incomprehensible, mysterious power continued to +control them, and they still brought up the charges, loaded, aimed, +and applied the match, though only one artilleryman survived out of +every three, and though they stumbled and panted with fatigue, +perspiring and stained with blood and powder. The cannon balls flew +just as swiftly and cruelly from both sides, crushing human bodies, +and that terrible work which was not done by the will of a man but +at the will of Him who governs men and worlds continued. + +Anyone looking at the disorganized rear of the Russian army would +have said that, if only the French made one more slight effort, it +would disappear; and anyone looking at the rear of the French army +would have said that the Russians need only make one more slight +effort and the French would be destroyed. But neither the French nor +the Russians made that effort, and the flame of battle burned slowly +out. + +The Russians did not make that effort because they were not +attacking the French. At the beginning of the battle they stood +blocking the way to Moscow and they still did so at the end of the +battle as at the beginning. But even had the aim of the Russians +been to drive the French from their positions, they could not have +made this last effort, for all the Russian troops had been broken +up, there was no part of the Russian army that had not suffered in the +battle, and though still holding their positions they had lost ONE +HALF of their army. + +The French, with the memory of all their former victories during +fifteen years, with the assurance of Napoleon's invincibility, with +the consciousness that they had captured part of the battlefield and +had lost only a quarter of their men and still had their Guards +intact, twenty thousand strong, might easily have made that effort. +The French had attacked the Russian army in order to drive it from its +position ought to have made that effort, for as long as the Russians +continued to block the road to Moscow as before, the aim of the French +had not been attained and all their efforts and losses were in vain. +But the French did not make that effort. Some historians say that +Napoleon need only have used his Old Guards, who were intact, and +the battle would have been won. To speak of what would have happened +had Napoleon sent his Guards is like talking of what would happen if +autumn became spring. It could not be. Napoleon did not give his +Guards, not because he did not want to, but because it could not be +done. All the generals, officers, and soldiers of the French army knew +it could not be done, because the flagging spirit of the troops +would not permit it. + +It was not Napoleon alone who had experienced that nightmare feeling +of the mighty arm being stricken powerless, but all the generals and +soldiers of his army whether they had taken part in the battle or not, +after all their experience of previous battles--when after one tenth +of such efforts the enemy had fled--experienced a similar feeling of +terror before an enemy who, after losing HALF his men, stood as +threateningly at the end as at the beginning of the battle. The +moral force of the attacking French army was exhausted. Not that +sort of victory which is defined by the capture of pieces of +material fastened to sticks, called standards, and of the ground on +which the troops had stood and were standing, but a moral victory that +convinces the enemy of the moral superiority of his opponent and of +his own impotence was gained by the Russians at Borodino. The French +invaders, like an infuriated animal that has in its onslaught received +a mortal wound, felt that they were perishing, but could not stop, any +more than the Russian army, weaker by one half, could help swerving. +By impetus gained, the French army was still able to roll forward to +Moscow, but there, without further effort on the part of the Russians, +it had to perish, bleeding from the mortal wound it had received at +Borodino. The direct consequence of the battle of Borodino was +Napoleon's senseless flight from Moscow, his retreat along the old +Smolensk road, the destruction of the invading army of five hundred +thousand men, and the downfall of Napoleonic France, on which at +Borodino for the first time the hand of an opponent of stronger spirit +had been laid. + + + + + +BOOK ELEVEN: 1812 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Absolute continuity of motion is not comprehensible to the human +mind. Laws of motion of any kind become comprehensible to man only +when he examines arbitrarily selected elements of that motion; but +at the same time, a large proportion of human error comes from the +arbitrary division of continuous motion into discontinuous elements. +There is a well known, so-called sophism of the ancients consisting in +this, that Achilles could never catch up with a tortoise he was +following, in spite of the fact that he traveled ten times as fast +as the tortoise. By the time Achilles has covered the distance that +separated him from the tortoise, the tortoise has covered one tenth of +that distance ahead of him: when Achilles has covered that tenth, +the tortoise has covered another one hundredth, and so on forever. +This problem seemed to the ancients insoluble. The absurd answer (that +Achilles could never overtake the tortoise) resulted from this: that +motion was arbitrarily divided into discontinuous elements, whereas +the motion both of Achilles and of the tortoise was continuous. + +By adopting smaller and smaller elements of motion we only +approach a solution of the problem, but never reach it. Only when we +have admitted the conception of the infinitely small, and the +resulting geometrical progression with a common ratio of one tenth, +and have found the sum of this progression to infinity, do we reach +a solution of the problem. + +A modern branch of mathematics having achieved the art of dealing +with the infinitely small can now yield solutions in other more +complex problems of motion which used to appear insoluble. + +This modern branch of mathematics, unknown to the ancients, when +dealing with problems of motion admits the conception of the +infinitely small, and so conforms to the chief condition of motion +(absolute continuity) and thereby corrects the inevitable error +which the human mind cannot avoid when it deals with separate elements +of motion instead of examining continuous motion. + +In seeking the laws of historical movement just the same thing +happens. The movement of humanity, arising as it does from innumerable +arbitrary human wills, is continuous. + +To understand the laws of this continuous movement is the aim of +history. But to arrive at these laws, resulting from the sum of all +those human wills, man's mind postulates arbitrary and disconnected +units. The first method of history is to take an arbitrarily +selected series of continuous events and examine it apart from others, +though there is and can be no beginning to any event, for one event +always flows uninterruptedly from another. + +The second method is to consider the actions of some one man--a king +or a commander--as equivalent to the sum of many individual wills; +whereas the sum of individual wills is never expressed by the activity +of a single historic personage. + +Historical science in its endeavor to draw nearer to truth +continually takes smaller and smaller units for examination. But +however small the units it takes, we feel that to take any unit +disconnected from others, or to assume a beginning of any +phenomenon, or to say that the will of many men is expressed by the +actions of any one historic personage, is in itself false. + +It needs no critical exertion to reduce utterly to dust any +deductions drawn from history. It is merely necessary to select some +larger or smaller unit as the subject of observation--as criticism has +every right to do, seeing that whatever unit history observes must +always be arbitrarily selected. + +Only by taking infinitesimally small units for observation (the +differential of history, that is, the individual tendencies of men) +and attaining to the art of integrating them (that is, finding the sum +of these infinitesimals) can we hope to arrive at the laws of history. + +The first fifteen years of the nineteenth century in Europe +present an extraordinary movement of millions of people. Men leave +their customary pursuits, hasten from one side of Europe to the other, +plunder and slaughter one another, triumph and are plunged in despair, +and for some years the whole course of life is altered and presents an +intensive movement which first increases and then slackens. What was +the cause of this movement, by what laws was it governed? asks the +mind of man. + +The historians, replying to this question, lay before us the sayings +and doings of a few dozen men in a building in the city of Paris, +calling these sayings and doings "the Revolution"; then they give a +detailed biography of Napoleon and of certain people favorable or +hostile to him; tell of the influence some of these people had on +others, and say: that is why this movement took place and those are +its laws. + +But the mind of man not only refuses to believe this explanation, +but plainly says that this method of explanation is fallacious, +because in it a weaker phenomenon is taken as the cause of a stronger. +The sum of human wills produced the Revolution and Napoleon, and +only the sum of those wills first tolerated and then destroyed them. + +"But every time there have been conquests there have been +conquerors; every time there has been a revolution in any state +there have been great men," says history. And, indeed, human reason +replies: every time conquerors appear there have been wars, but this +does not prove that the conquerors caused the wars and that it is +possible to find the laws of a war in the personal activity of a +single man. Whenever I look at my watch and its hands point to ten, +I hear the bells of the neighboring church; but because the bells +begin to ring when the hands of the clock reach ten, I have no right +to assume that the movement of the bells is caused by the position +of the hands of the watch. + +Whenever I see the movement of a locomotive I hear the whistle and +see the valves opening and wheels turning; but I have no right to +conclude that the whistling and the turning of wheels are the cause of +the movement of the engine. + +The peasants say that a cold wind blows in late spring because the +oaks are budding, and really every spring cold winds do blow when +the oak is budding. But though I do not know what causes the cold +winds to blow when the oak buds unfold, I cannot agree with the +peasants that the unfolding of the oak buds is the cause of the cold +wind, for the force of the wind is beyond the influence of the buds. I +see only a coincidence of occurrences such as happens with all the +phenomena of life, and I see that however much and however carefully I +observe the hands of the watch, and the valves and wheels of the +engine, and the oak, I shall not discover the cause of the bells +ringing, the engine moving, or of the winds of spring. To that I +must entirely change my point of view and study the laws of the +movement of steam, of the bells, and of the wind. History must do +the same. And attempts in this direction have already been made. + +To study the laws of history we must completely change the subject +of our observation, must leave aside kings, ministers, and generals, +and the common, infinitesimally small elements by which the masses are +moved. No one can say in how far it is possible for man to advance +in this way toward an understanding of the laws of history; but it +is evident that only along that path does the possibility of +discovering the laws of history lie, and that as yet not a millionth +part as much mental effort has been applied in this direction by +historians as has been devoted to describing the actions of various +kings, commanders, and ministers and propounding the historians' own +reflections concerning these actions. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The forces of a dozen European nations burst into Russia. The +Russian army and people avoided a collision till Smolensk was reached, +and again from Smolensk to Borodino. The French army pushed on to +Moscow, its goal, its impetus ever increasing as it neared its aim, +just as the velocity of a falling body increases as it approaches +the earth. Behind it were seven hundred miles of hunger-stricken, +hostile country; ahead were a few dozen miles separating it from its +goal. Every soldier in Napoleon's army felt this and the invasion +moved on by its own momentum. + +The more the Russian army retreated the more fiercely a spirit of +hatred of the enemy flared up, and while it retreated the army +increased and consolidated. At Borodino a collision took place. +Neither army was broken up, but the Russian army retreated immediately +after the collision as inevitably as a ball recoils after colliding +with another having a greater momentum, and with equal inevitability +the ball of invasion that had advanced with such momentum rolled on +for some distance, though the collision had deprived it of all its +force. + +The Russians retreated eighty miles--to beyond Moscow--and the +French reached Moscow and there came to a standstill. For five weeks +after that there was not a single battle. The French did not move. +As a bleeding, mortally wounded animal licks its wounds, they remained +inert in Moscow for five weeks, and then suddenly, with no fresh +reason, fled back: they made a dash for the Kaluga road, and (after +a victory--for at Malo-Yaroslavets the field of conflict again +remained theirs) without undertaking a single serious battle, they +fled still more rapidly back to Smolensk, beyond Smolensk, beyond +the Berezina, beyond Vilna, and farther still. + +On the evening of the twenty-sixth of August, Kutuzov and the +whole Russian army were convinced that the battle of Borodino was a +victory. Kutuzov reported so to the Emperor. He gave orders to prepare +for a fresh conflict to finish the enemy and did this not to deceive +anyone, but because he knew that the enemy was beaten, as everyone who +had taken part in the battle knew it. + +But all that evening and next day reports came in one after +another of unheard-of losses, of the loss of half the army, and a +fresh battle proved physically impossible. + +It was impossible to give battle before information had been +collected, the wounded gathered in, the supplies of ammunition +replenished, the slain reckoned up, new officers appointed to +replace those who had been killed, and before the men had had food and +sleep. And meanwhile, the very next morning after the battle, the +French army advanced of itself upon the Russians, carried forward by +the force of its own momentum now seemingly increased in inverse +proportion to the square of the distance from its aim. Kutuzov's +wish was to attack next day, and the whole army desired to do so. +But to make an attack the wish to do so is not sufficient, there +must also be a possibility of doing it, and that possibility did not +exist. It was impossible not to retreat a day's march, and then in the +same way it was impossible not to retreat another and a third day's +march, and at last, on the first of September when the army drew +near Moscow--despite the strength of the feeling that had arisen in +all ranks--the force of circumstances compelled it to retire beyond +Moscow. And the troops retired one more, last, day's march, and +abandoned Moscow to the enemy. + +For people accustomed to think that plans of campaign and battles +are made by generals--as any one of us sitting over a map in his study +may imagine how he would have arranged things in this or that +battle--the questions present themselves: Why did Kutuzov during the +retreat not do this or that? Why did he not take up a position +before reaching Fili? Why did he not retire at once by the Kaluga +road, abandoning Moscow? and so on. People accustomed to think in that +way forget, or do not know, the inevitable conditions which always +limit the activities of any commander in chief. The activity of a +commander in chief does not all resemble the activity we imagine to +ourselves when we sit at case in our studies examining some campaign +on the map, with a certain number of troops on this and that side in a +certain known locality, and begin our plans from some given moment. +A commander in chief is never dealing with the beginning of any event- +the position from which we always contemplate it. The commander in +chief is always in the midst of a series of shifting events and so +he never can at any moment consider the whole import of an event +that is occurring. Moment by moment the event is imperceptibly shaping +itself, and at every moment of this continuous, uninterrupted +shaping of events the commander in chief is in the midst of a most +complex play of intrigues, worries, contingencies, authorities, +projects, counsels, threats, and deceptions and is continually obliged +to reply to innumerable questions addressed to him, which constantly +conflict with one another. + +Learned military authorities quite seriously tell us that Kutuzov +should have moved his army to the Kaluga road long before reaching +Fili, and that somebody actually submitted such a proposal to him. But +a commander in chief, especially at a difficult moment, has always +before him not one proposal but dozens simultaneously. And all these +proposals, based on strategics and tactics, contradict each other. + +A commander in chief's business, it would seem, is simply to +choose one of these projects. But even that he cannot do. Events and +time do not wait. For instance, on the twenty-eighth it is suggested +to him to cross to the Kaluga road, but just then an adjutant +gallops up from Miloradovich asking whether he is to engage the French +or retire. An order must be given him at once, that instant. And the +order to retreat carries us past the turn to the Kaluga road. And +after the adjutant comes the commissary general asking where the +stores are to be taken, and the chief of the hospitals asks where +the wounded are to go, and a courier from Petersburg brings a letter +from the sovereign which does not admit of the possibility of +abandoning Moscow, and the commander in chief's rival, the man who +is undermining him (and there are always not merely one but several +such), presents a new project diametrically opposed to that of turning +to the Kaluga road, and the commander in chief himself needs sleep and +refreshment to maintain his energy and a respectable general who has +been overlooked in the distribution of rewards comes to complain, +and the inhabitants of the district pray to be defended, and an +officer sent to inspect the locality comes in and gives a report quite +contrary to what was said by the officer previously sent; and a spy, a +prisoner, and a general who has been on reconnaissance, all describe +the position of the enemy's army differently. People accustomed to +misunderstand or to forget these inevitable conditions of a +commander in chief's actions describe to us, for instance, the +position of the army at Fili and assume that the commander in chief +could, on the first of September, quite freely decide whether to +abandon Moscow or defend it; whereas, with the Russian army less +than four miles from Moscow, no such question existed. When had that +question been settled? At Drissa and at Smolensk and most palpably +of all on the twenty-fourth of August at Shevardino and on the +twenty-sixth at Borodino, and each day and hour and minute of the +retreat from Borodino to Fili. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +When Ermolov, having been sent by Kutuzov to inspect the position, +told the field marshal that it was impossible to fight there before +Moscow and that they must retreat, Kutuzov looked at him in silence. + +"Give me your hand," said he and, turning it over so as to feel +the pulse, added: "You are not well, my dear fellow. Think what you +are saying!" + +Kutuzov could not yet admit the possibility of retreating beyond +Moscow without a battle. + +On the Poklonny Hill, four miles from the Dorogomilov gate of +Moscow, Kutuzov got out of his carriage and sat down on a bench by the +roadside. A great crowd of generals gathered round him, and Count +Rostopchin, who had come out from Moscow, joined them. This +brilliant company separated into several groups who all discussed +the advantages and disadvantages of the position, the state of the +army, the plans suggested, the situation of Moscow, and military +questions generally. Though they had not been summoned for the +purpose, and though it was not so called, they all felt that this +was really a council of war. The conversations all dealt with public +questions. If anyone gave or asked for personal news, it was done in a +whisper and they immediately reverted to general matters. No jokes, or +laughter, or smiles even, were seen among all these men. They +evidently all made an effort to hold themselves at the height the +situation demanded. And all these groups, while talking among +themselves, tried to keep near the commander in chief (whose bench +formed the center of the gathering) and to speak so that he might +overhear them. The commander in chief listened to what was being +said and sometimes asked them to repeat their remarks, but did not +himself take part in the conversations or express any opinion. After +hearing what was being said by one or other of these groups he +generally turned away with an air of disappointment, as though they +were not speaking of anything he wished to hear. Some discussed the +position that had been chosen, criticizing not the position itself +so much as the mental capacity of those who had chosen it. Others +argued that a mistake had been made earlier and that a battle should +have been fought two days before. Others again spoke of the battle +of Salamanca, which was described by Crosart, a newly arrived +Frenchman in a Spanish uniform. (This Frenchman and one of the +German princes serving with the Russian army were discussing the siege +of Saragossa and considering the possibility of defending Moscow in +a similar manner.) Count Rostopchin was telling a fourth group that he +was prepared to die with the city train bands under the walls of the +capital, but that he still could not help regretting having been +left in ignorance of what was happening, and that had he known it +sooner things would have been different.... A fifth group, +displaying the profundity of their strategic perceptions, discussed +the direction the troops would now have to take. A sixth group was +talking absolute nonsense. Kutuzov's expression grew more and more +preoccupied and gloomy. From all this talk he saw only one thing: that +to defend Moscow was a physical impossibility in the full meaning of +those words, that is to say, so utterly impossible that if any +senseless commander were to give orders to fight, confusion would +result but the battle would still not take place. It would not take +place because the commanders not merely all recognized the position to +be impossible, but in their conversations were only discussing what +would happen after its inevitable abandonment. How could the +commanders lead their troops to a field of battle they considered +impossible to hold? The lower-grade officers and even the soldiers +(who too reason) also considered the position impossible and therefore +could not go to fight, fully convinced as they were of defeat. If +Bennigsen insisted on the position being defended and others still +discussed it, the question was no longer important in itself but +only as a pretext for disputes and intrigue. This Kutuzov knew well. + +Bennigsen, who had chosen the position, warmly displayed his Russian +patriotism (Kutuzov could not listen to this without wincing) by +insisting that Moscow must be defended. His aim was as clear as +daylight to Kutuzov: if the defense failed, to throw the blame on +Kutuzov who had brought the army as far as the Sparrow Hills without +giving battle; if it succeeded, to claim the success as his own; or if +battle were not given, to clear himself of the crime of abandoning +Moscow. But this intrigue did not now occupy the old man's mind. One +terrible question absorbed him and to that question he heard no +reply from anyone. The question for him now was: "Have I really +allowed Napoleon to reach Moscow, and when did I do so? When was it +decided? Can it have been yesterday when I ordered Platov to +retreat, or was it the evening before, when I had a nap and told +Bennigsen to issue orders? Or was it earlier still?... When, when +was this terrible affair decided? Moscow must be abandoned. The army +must retreat and the order to do so must be given." To give that +terrible order seemed to him equivalent to resigning the command of +the army. And not only did he love power to which he was accustomed +(the honours awarded to Prince Prozorovski, under whom he had served +in Turkey, galled him), but he was convinced that he was destined to +save Russia and that that was why, against the Emperor's wish and by +the will of the people, he had been chosen commander in chief. He +was convinced that he alone could maintain command of the army in +these difficult circumstances, and that in all the world he alone +could encounter the invincible Napoleon without fear, and he was +horrified at the thought of the order he had to issue. But something +had to be decided, and these conversations around him which were +assuming too free a character must be stopped. + +He called the most important generals to him. + +"My head, be it good or bad, must depend on itself," said he, rising +from the bench, and he rode to Fili where his carriages were waiting. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +The Council of War began to assemble at two in the afternoon in +the better and roomier part of Andrew Savostyanov's hut. The men, +women, and children of the large peasant family crowded into the +back room across the passage. Only Malasha, Andrew's six-year-old +granddaughter whom his Serene Highness had petted and to whom he had +given a lump of sugar while drinking his tea, remained on the top of +the brick oven in the larger room. Malasha looked down from the oven +with shy delight at the faces, uniforms, and decorations of the +generals, who one after another came into the room and sat down on the +broad benches in the corner under the icons. "Granddad" himself, as +Malasha in her own mind called Kutuzov, sat apart in a dark corner +behind the oven. He sat, sunk deep in a folding armchair, and +continually cleared his throat and pulled at the collar of his coat +which, though it was unbuttoned, still seemed to pinch his neck. Those +who entered went up one by one to the field marshal; he pressed the +hands of some and nodded to others. His adjutant Kaysarov was about to +draw back the curtain of the window facing Kutuzov, but the latter +moved his hand angrily and Kaysarov understood that his Serene +Highness did not wish his face to be seen. + +Round the peasant's deal table, on which lay maps, plans, pencils, +and papers, so many people gathered that the orderlies brought in +another bench and put it beside the table. Ermolov, Kaysarov, and +Toll, who had just arrived, sat down on this bench. In the foremost +place, immediately under the icons, sat Barclay de Tolly, his high +forehead merging into his bald crown. He had a St. George's Cross +round his neck and looked pale and ill. He had been feverish for two +days and was now shivering and in pain. Beside him sat Uvarov, who +with rapid gesticulations was giving him some information, speaking in +low tones as they all did. Chubby little Dokhturov was listening +attentively with eyebrows raised and arms folded on his stomach. On +the other side sat Count Ostermann-Tolstoy, seemingly absorbed in +his own thoughts. His broad head with its bold features and glittering +eyes was resting on his hand. Raevski, twitching forward the black +hair on his temples as was his habit, glanced now at Kutuzov and now +at the door with a look of impatience. Konovnitsyn's firm, handsome, +and kindly face was lit up by a tender, sly smile. His glance met +Malasha's, and the expression of his eyes caused the little girl to +smile. + +They were all waiting for Bennigsen, who on the pretext of +inspecting the position was finishing his savory dinner. They waited +for him from four till six o'clock and did not begin their +deliberations all that time talked in low tones of other matters. + +Only when Bennigsen had entered the hut did Kutuzov leave his corner +and draw toward the table, but not near enough for the candles that +had been placed there to light up his face. + +Bennigsen opened the council with the question: "Are we to abandon +Russia's ancient and sacred capital without a struggle, or are we to +defend it?" A prolonged and general silence followed. There was a +frown on every face and only Kutuzov's angry grunts and occasional +cough broke the silence. All eyes were gazing at him. Malasha too +looked at "Granddad." She was nearest to him and saw how his face +puckered; he seemed about to cry, but this did not last long. + +"Russia's ancient and sacred capital!" he suddenly said, repeating +Bennigsen's words in an angry voice and thereby drawing attention to +the false note in them. "Allow me to tell you, your excellency, that +that question has no meaning for a Russian." (He lurched his heavy +body forward.) "Such a question cannot be put; it is senseless! The +question I have asked these gentlemen to meet to discuss is a military +one. The question is that of saving Russia. Is it better to give up +Moscow without a battle, or by accepting battle to risk losing the +army as well as Moscow? That is the question on which I want your +opinion," and he sank back in his chair. + +The discussion began. Bennigsen did not yet consider his game +lost. Admitting the view of Barclay and others that a defensive battle +at Fili was impossible, but imbued with Russian patriotism and the +love of Moscow, he proposed to move troops from the right to the +left flank during the night and attack the French right flank the +following day. Opinions were divided, and arguments were advanced +for and against that project. Ermolov, Dokhturov, and Raevski agreed +with Bennigsen. Whether feeling it necessary to make a sacrifice +before abandoning the capital or guided by other, personal +considerations, these generals seemed not to understand that this +council could not alter the inevitable course of events and that +Moscow was in effect already abandoned. The other generals, however, +understood it and, leaving aside the question of Moscow, of the +direction the army should take in its retreat. Malasha, who kept her +eyes fixed on what was going on before her, understood the meaning +of the council differently. It seemed to her that it was only a +personal struggle between "Granddad" and "Long-coat" as she termed +Bennigsen. She saw that they grew spiteful when they spoke to one +another, and in her heart she sided with "Granddad." In the midst of +the conversation she noticed "Granddad" give Bennigsen a quick, subtle +glance, and then to her joys he saw that "Granddad" said something +to "Long-coat" which settled him. Bennigsen suddenly reddened and +paced angrily up and down the room. What so affected him was Kutuzov's +calm and quiet comment on the advantage or disadvantage of Bennigsen's +proposal to move troops by night from the right to the left flank to +attack the French right wing. + +"Gentlemen," said Kutuzov, "I cannot approve of the count's plan. +Moving troops in close proximity to an enemy is always dangerous, +and military history supports that view. For instance..." Kutuzov +seemed to reflect, searching for an example, then with a clear, +naive look at Bennigsen he added: "Oh yes; take the battle of +Friedland, which I think the count well remembers, and which was... +not fully successful, only because our troops were rearranged too near +the enemy..." + +There followed a momentary pause, which seemed very long to them +all. + +The discussion recommenced, but pauses frequently occurred and +they all felt that there was no more to be said. + +During one of these pauses Kutuzov heaved a deep sigh as if +preparing to speak. They all looked at him. + +"Well, gentlemen, I see that it is I who will have to pay for the +broken crockery," said he, and rising slowly he moved to the table. +"Gentlemen, I have heard your views. Some of you will not agree with +me. But I," he paused, "by the authority entrusted to me by my +Sovereign and country, order a retreat." + +After that the generals began to disperse with the solemnity and +circumspect silence of people who are leaving, after a funeral. + +Some of the generals, in low tones and in a strain very different +from the way they had spoken during the council, communicated +something to their commander in chief. + +Malasha, who had long been expected for supper, climbed carefully +backwards down from the oven, her bare little feet catching at its +projections, and slipping between the legs of the generals she +darted out of the room. + +When he had dismissed the generals Kutuzov sat a long time with +his elbows on the table, thinking always of the same terrible +question: "When, when did the abandonment of Moscow become inevitable? +When was that done which settled the matter? And who was to blame +for it?" + +"I did not expect this," said he to his adjutant Schneider when +the latter came in late that night. "I did not expect this! I did +not think this would happen." + +"You should take some rest, your Serene Highness," replied +Schneider. + +"But no! They shall eat horseflesh yet, like the Turks!" exclaimed +Kutuzov without replying, striking the table with his podgy fist. +"They shall too, if only..." + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +At that very time, in circumstances even more important than +retreating without a battle, namely the evacuation and burning of +Moscow, Rostopchin, who is usually represented as being the instigator +of that event, acted in an altogether different manner from Kutuzov. + +After the battle of Borodino the abandonment and burning of Moscow +was as inevitable as the retreat of the army beyond Moscow without +fighting. + +Every Russian might have predicted it, not by reasoning but by the +feeling implanted in each of us and in our fathers. + +The same thing that took place in Moscow had happened in all the +towns and villages on Russian soil beginning with Smolensk, without +the participation of Count Rostopchin and his broadsheets. The +people awaited the enemy unconcernedly, did not riot or become excited +or tear anyone to pieces, but faced its fate, feeling within it the +strength to find what it should do at that most difficult moment. +And as soon as the enemy drew near the wealthy classes went away +abandoning their property, while the poorer remained and burned and +destroyed what was left. + +The consciousness that this would be so and would always be so was +and is present in the heart of every Russian. And a consciousness of +this, and a foreboding that Moscow would be taken, was present in +Russian Moscow society in 1812. Those who had quitted Moscow already +in July and at the beginning of August showed that they expected this. +Those who went away, taking what they could and abandoning their +houses and half their belongings, did so from the latent patriotism +which expresses itself not by phrases or by giving one's children to +save the fatherland and similar unnatural exploits, but unobtrusively, +simply, organically, and therefore in the way that always produces the +most powerful results. + +"It is disgraceful to run away from danger; only cowards are running +away from Moscow," they were told. In his broadsheets Rostopchin +impressed on them that to leave Moscow was shameful. They were ashamed +to be called cowards, ashamed to leave, but still they left, knowing +it had to be done. Why did they go? It is impossible to suppose that +Rostopchin had scared them by his accounts of horrors Napoleon had +committed in conquered countries. The first people to go away were the +rich educated people who knew quite well that Vienna and Berlin had +remained intact and that during Napoleon's occupation the +inhabitants had spent their time pleasantly in the company of the +charming Frenchmen whom the Russians, and especially the Russian +ladies, then liked so much. + +They went away because for Russians there could be no question as to +whether things would go well or ill under French rule in Moscow. It +was out of the question to be under French rule, it would be the worst +thing that could happen. They went away even before the battle of +Borodino and still more rapidly after it, despite Rostopchin's calls +to defend Moscow or the announcement of his intention to take the +wonder-working icon of the Iberian Mother of God and go to fight, or +of the balloons that were to destroy the French, and despite all the +nonsense Rostopchin wrote in his broadsheets. They knew that it was +for the army to fight, and that if it could not succeed it would not +do to take young ladies and house serfs to the Three Hills quarter +of Moscow to fight Napoleon, and that they must go away, sorry as they +were to abandon their property to destruction. They went away +without thinking of the tremendous significance of that immense and +wealthy city being given over to destruction, for a great city with +wooden buildings was certain when abandoned by its inhabitants to be +burned. They went away each on his own account, and yet it was only in +consequence of their going away that the momentous event was +accomplished that will always remain the greatest glory of the Russian +people. The lady who, afraid of being stopped by Count Rostopchin's +orders, had already in June moved with her Negroes and her women +jesters from Moscow to her Saratov estate, with a vague +consciousness that she was not Bonaparte's servant, was really, +simply, and truly carrying out the great work which saved Russia. +But Count Rostopchin, who now taunted those who left Moscow and now +had the government offices removed; now distributed quite useless +weapons to the drunken rabble; now had processions displaying the +icons, and now forbade Father Augustin to remove icons or the relics +of saints; now seized all the private carts in Moscow and on one +hundred and thirty-six of them removed the balloon that was being +constructed by Leppich; now hinted that he would burn Moscow and +related how he had set fire to his own house; now wrote a proclamation +to the French solemnly upbraiding them for having destroyed his +Orphanage; now claimed the glory of having hinted that he would burn +Moscow and now repudiated the deed; now ordered the people to catch +all spies and bring them to him, and now reproached them for doing so; +now expelled all the French residents from Moscow, and now allowed +Madame Aubert-Chalme (the center of the whole French colony in Moscow) +to remain, but ordered the venerable old postmaster Klyucharev to be +arrested and exiled for no particular offense; now assembled the +people at the Three Hills to fight the French and now, to get rid of +them, handed over to them a man to be killed and himself drove away by +a back gate; now declared that he would not survive the fall of +Moscow, and now wrote French verses in albums concerning his share +in the affair--this man did not understand the meaning of what was +happening but merely wanted to do something himself that would +astonish people, to perform some patriotically heroic feat; and like a +child he made sport of the momentous, and unavoidable event--the +abandonment and burning of Moscow--and tried with his puny hand now to +speed and now to stay the enormous, popular tide that bore him along +with it. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Helene, having returned with the court from Vilna to Petersburg, +found herself in a difficult position. + +In Petersburg she had enjoyed the special protection of a grandee +who occupied one of the highest posts in the Empire. In Vilna she +had formed an intimacy with a young foreign prince. When she +returned to Petersburg both the magnate and the prince were there, and +both claimed their rights. Helene was faced by a new problem--how to +preserve her intimacy with both without offending either. + +What would have seemed difficult or even impossible to another woman +did not cause the least embarrassment to Countess Bezukhova, who +evidently deserved her reputation of being a very clever woman. Had +she attempted concealment, or tried to extricate herself from her +awkward position by cunning, she would have spoiled her case by +acknowledging herself guilty. But Helene, like a really great man +who can do whatever he pleases, at once assumed her own position to be +correct, as she sincerely believed it to be, and that everyone else +was to blame. + +The first time the young foreigner allowed himself to reproach +her, she lifted her beautiful head and, half turning to him, said +firmly: "That's just like a man--selfish and cruel! I expected nothing +else. A woman sacrifices herself for you, she suffers, and this is her +reward! What right have you, monseigneur, to demand an account of my +attachments and friendships? He is a man who has been more than a +father to me!" The prince was about to say something, but Helene +interrupted him. + +"Well, yes," said she, "it may be that he has other sentiments for +me than those of a father, but that is not a reason for me to shut +my door on him. I am not a man, that I should repay kindness with +ingratitude! Know, monseigneur, that in all that relates to my +intimate feelings I render account only to God and to my +conscience," she concluded, laying her hand on her beautiful, fully +expanded bosom and looking up to heaven. + +"But for heaven's sake listen to me!" + +"Marry me, and I will be your slave!" + +"But that's impossible." + +"You won't deign to demean yourself by marrying me, you..." said +Helene, beginning to cry. + +The prince tried to comfort her, but Helene, as if quite distraught, +said through her tears that there was nothing to prevent her marrying, +that there were precedents (there were up to that time very few, but +she mentioned Napoleon and some other exalted personages), that she +had never been her husband's wife, and that she had been sacrificed. + +"But the law, religion..." said the prince, already yielding. + +"The law, religion... What have they been invented for if they can't +arrange that?" said Helene. + +The prince was surprised that so simple an idea had not occurred +to him, and he applied for advice to the holy brethren of the +Society of Jesus, with whom he was on intimate terms. + +A few days later at one of those enchanting fetes which Helene +gave at her country house on the Stone Island, the charming Monsieur +de Jobert, a man no longer young, with snow white hair and brilliant +black eyes, a Jesuit a robe courte* was presented to her, and in the +garden by the light of the illuminations and to the sound of music +talked to her for a long time of the love of God, of Christ, of the +Sacred Heart, and of the consolations the one true Catholic religion +affords in this world and the next. Helene was touched, and more +than once tears rose to her eyes and to those of Monsieur de Jobert +and their voices trembled. A dance, for which her partner came to seek +her, put an end to her discourse with her future directeur de +conscience, but the next evening Monsieur de Jobert came to see Helene +when she was alone, and after that often came again. + + +*Lay member of the Society of Jesus. + + +One day he took the countess to a Roman Catholic church, where she +knelt down before the altar to which she was led. The enchanting, +middle-aged Frenchman laid his hands on her head and, as she herself +afterward described it, she felt something like a fresh breeze +wafted into her soul. It was explained to her that this was la grace. + +After that a long-frocked abbe was brought to her. She confessed +to him, and he absolved her from her sins. Next day she received a box +containing the Sacred Host, which was left at her house for her to +partake of. A few days later Helene learned with pleasure that she had +now been admitted to the true Catholic Church and that in a few days +the Pope himself would hear of her and would send her a certain +document. + +All that was done around her and to her at this time, all the +attention devoted to her by so many clever men and expressed in such +pleasant, refined ways, and the state of dove-like purity she was +now in (she wore only white dresses and white ribbons all that time) +gave her pleasure, but her pleasure did not cause her for a moment +to forget her aim. And as it always happens in contests of cunning +that a stupid person gets the better of cleverer ones, Helene- +having realized that the main object of all these words and all this +trouble was, after converting her to Catholicism, to obtain money from +her for Jesuit institutions (as to which she received indications)- +before parting with her money insisted that the various operations +necessary to free her from her husband should be performed. In her +view the aim of every religion was merely to preserve certain +proprieties while affording satisfaction to human desires. And with +this aim, in one of her talks with her Father Confessor, she +insisted on an answer to the question, in how far was she bound by her +marriage? + +They were sitting in the twilight by a window in the drawing room. +The scent of flowers came in at the window. Helene was wearing a white +dress, transparent over her shoulders and bosom. The abbe, a +well-fed man with a plump, clean-shaven chin, a pleasant firm mouth, +and white hands meekly folded on his knees, sat close to Helene and, +with a subtle smile on his lips and a peaceful look of delight at +her beauty, occasionally glanced at her face as he explained his +opinion on the subject. Helene with an uneasy smile looked at his +curly hair and his plump, clean-shaven, blackish cheeks and every +moment expected the conversation to take a fresh turn. But the abbe, +though he evidently enjoyed the beauty of his companion, was +absorbed in his mastery of the matter. + +The course of the Father Confessor's arguments ran as follows: +"Ignorant of the import of what you were undertaking, you made a vow +of conjugal fidelity to a man who on his part, by entering the married +state without faith in the religious significance of marriage, +committed an act of sacrilege. That marriage lacked the dual +significance it should have had. Yet in spite of this your vow was +binding. You swerved from it. What did you commit by so acting? A +venial, or a mortal, sin? A venial sin, for you acted without evil +intention. If now you married again with the object of bearing +children, your sin might be forgiven. But the question is again a +twofold one: firstly..." + +But suddenly Helene, who was getting bored, said with one of her +bewitching smiles: "But I think that having espoused the true religion +I cannot be bound by what a false religion laid upon me." + +The director of her conscience was astounded at having the case +presented to him thus with the simplicity of Columbus' egg. He was +delighted at the unexpected rapidity of his pupil's progress, but +could not abandon the edifice of argument he had laboriously +constructed. + +"Let us understand one another, Countess," said he with a smile, and +began refuting his spiritual daughter's arguments. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Helene understood that the question was very simple and easy from +the ecclesiastical point of view, and that her directors were making +difficulties only because they were apprehensive as to how the +matter would be regarded by the secular authorities. + +So she decided that it was necessary to prepare the opinion of +society. She provoked the jealousy of the elderly magnate and told him +what she had told her other suitor; that is, she put the matter so +that the only way for him to obtain a right over her was to marry her. +The elderly magnate was at first as much taken aback by this +suggestion of marriage with a woman whose husband was alive, as the +younger man had been, but Helene's imperturbable conviction that it +was as simple and natural as marrying a maiden had its effect on him +too. Had Helene herself shown the least sign of hesitation, shame, +or secrecy, her cause would certainly have been lost; but not only did +she show no signs of secrecy or shame, on the contrary, with +good-natured naivete she told her intimate friends (and these were all +Petersburg) that both the prince and the magnate had proposed to her +and that she loved both and was afraid of grieving either. + +A rumor immediately spread in Petersburg, not that Helene wanted +to be divorced from her husband (had such a report spread many would +have opposed so illegal an intention) but simply that the +unfortunate and interesting Helene was in doubt which of the two men +she should marry. The question was no longer whether this was +possible, but only which was the better match and how the matter would +be regarded at court. There were, it is true, some rigid individuals +unable to rise to the height of such a question, who saw in the +project a desecration of the sacrament of marriage, but there were not +many such and they remained silent, while the majority were interested +in Helene's good fortune and in the question which match would be +the more advantageous. Whether it was right or wrong to remarry +while one had a husband living they did not discuss, for that question +had evidently been settled by people "wiser than you or me," as they +said, and to doubt the correctness of that decision would be to risk +exposing one's stupidity and incapacity to live in society. + +Only Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova, had come to Petersburg that +summer to see one of her sons, allowed herself plainly to express an +opinion contrary to the general one. Meeting Helene at a ball she +stopped her in the middle of the room and, amid general silence, +said in her gruff voice: "So wives of living men have started marrying +again! Perhaps you think you have invented a novelty? You have been +forestalled, my dear! It was thought of long ago. It is done in all +the brothels," and with these words Marya Dmitrievna, turning up her +wide sleeves with her usual threatening gesture and glancing sternly +round, moved across the room. + +Though people were afraid of Marya Dmitrievna she was regarded in +Petersburg as a buffoon, and so of what she had said they only +noticed, and repeated in a whisper, the one coarse word she had +used, supposing the whole sting of her remark to lie in that word. + +Prince Vasili, who of late very often forgot what he had said and +repeated one and the same thing a hundred times, remarked to his +daughter whenever he chanced to see her: + +"Helene, I have a word to say to you," and he would lead her +aside, drawing her hand downward. "I have heard of certain projects +concerning... you know. Well my dear child, you know how your father's +heart rejoices to know that you... You have suffered so much.... +But, my dear child, consult only your own heart. That is all I have to +say," and concealing his unvarying emotion he would press his cheek +against his daughter's and move away. + +Bilibin, who had not lost his reputation of an exceedingly clever +man, and who was one of the disinterested friends so +brilliant a woman as Helene always has--men friends who can never +change into lovers--once gave her his view of the matter at a small +and intimate gathering. + +"Listen, Bilibin," said Helene (she always called friends of that +sort by their surnames), and she touched his coat sleeve with her +white, beringed fingers. "Tell me, as you would a sister, what I ought +to do. Which of the two?" + +Bilibin wrinkled up the skin over his eyebrows and pondered, with +a smile on his lips. + +"You are not taking me unawares, you know," said he. "As a true +friend, I have thought and thought again about your affair. You see, +if you marry the prince"--he meant the younger man--and he crooked one +finger, "you forever lose the chance of marrying the other, and you +will displease the court besides. (You know there is some kind of +connection.) But if you marry the old count you will make his last +days happy, and as widow of the Grand... the prince would no longer be +making a mesalliance by marrying you," and Bilibin smoothed out his +forehead. + +"That's a true friend!" said Helene beaming, and again touching +Bilibin's sleeve. "But I love them, you know, and don't want to +distress either of them. I would give my life for the happiness of +them both." + +Bilibin shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say that not even he +could help in that difficulty. + +"Une maitresse-femme!* That's what is called putting things +squarely. She would like to be married to all three at the same time," +thought he. + + +*A masterly woman. + + +"But tell me, how will your husband look at the matter?" Bilibin +asked, his reputation being so well established that he did not fear +to ask so naive a question. "Will he agree?" + +"Oh, he loves me so!" said Helene, who for some reason imagined that +Pierre too loved her. "He will do anything for me." + +Bilibin puckered his skin in preparation for something witty. + +"Even divorce you?" said he. + +Helene laughed. + +Among those who ventured to doubt the justifiability of the proposed +marriage was Helene's mother, Princess Kuragina. She was continually +tormented by jealousy of her daughter, and now that jealousy concerned +a subject near to her own heart, she could not reconcile herself to +the idea. She consulted a Russian priest as to the possibility of +divorce and remarriage during a husband's lifetime, and the priest +told her that it was impossible, and to her delight showed her a +text in the Gospel which (as it seemed to him) plainly remarriage +while the husband is alive. + +Armed with these arguments, which appeared to her unanswerable, +she drove to her daughter's early one morning so as to find her alone. + +Having listened to her mother's objections, Helene smiled blandly +and ironically. + +"But it says plainly: 'Whosoever shall marry her that is +divorced...'" said the old princess. + +"Ah, Maman, ne dites pas de betises. Vous ne comprenez rein. Dans ma +position j'ai des devoirs,"* said Helene changing from Russian, in +which language she always felt that her case did not sound quite +clear, into French which suited it better. + + +*"Oh, Mamma, don't talk nonsense! You don't understand anything. +In my position I have obligations. + + +"But, my dear...." + +"Oh, Mamma, how is it you don't understand that the Holy Father, who +has the right to grant dispensations..." + +Just then the lady companion who lived with Helene came in to +announce that His Highness was in the ballroom and wished to see her. + +"Non, dites-lui que je ne veux pas le voir, que je suis furieuse +contre lui, parce qu'il m' a manque parole."* + + +*"No, tell him I don't wish to see him, I am furious with him for +not keeping his word to me." + + +"Comtesse, a tout peche misericorde,"* said a fair-haired young +man with a long face and nose, as he entered the room. + + +*"Countess, there is mercy for every sin." + + +The old princess rose respectfully and curtsied. The young man who +had entered took no notice of her. The princess nodded to her daughter +and sidled out of the room. + +"Yes, she is right," thought the old princess, all her convictions +dissipated by the appearance of His Highness. "She is right, but how +is it that we in our irrecoverable youth did not know it? Yet it is so +simple," she thought as she got into her carriage. + + +By the beginning of August Helene's affairs were clearly defined and +she wrote a letter to her husband--who, as she imagined, loved her +very much--informing him of her intention to marry N.N. and of her +having embraced the one true faith, and asking him to carry out all +the formalities necessary for a divorce, which would be explained to +him by the bearer of the letter. + + +And so I pray God to have you, my friend, in His holy and powerful +keeping--Your friend Helene. + + +This letter was brought to Pierre's house when he was on the field +of Borodino. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Toward the end of the battle of Borodino, Pierre, having run down +from Raevski's battery a second time, made his way through a gully +to Knyazkovo with a crowd of soldiers, reached the dressing station, +and seeing blood and hearing cries and groans hurried on, still +entangled in the crowds of soldiers. + +The one thing he now desired with his whole soul was to get away +quickly from the terrible sensations amid which he had lived that +day and return to ordinary conditions of life and sleep quietly in a +room in his own bed. He felt that only in the ordinary conditions of +life would he be able to understand himself and all he had seen and +felt. But such ordinary conditions of life were nowhere to be found. + +Though shells and bullets did not whistle over the road along +which he was going, still on all sides there was what there had been +on the field of battle. There were still the same suffering, +exhausted, and sometimes strangely indifferent faces, the same +blood, the same soldiers' overcoats, the same sounds of firing +which, though distant now, still aroused terror, and besides this +there were the foul air and the dust. + +Having gone a couple of miles along the Mozhaysk road, Pierre sat +down by the roadside. + +Dusk had fallen, and the roar of guns died away. Pierre lay +leaning on his elbow for a long time, gazing at the shadows that moved +past him in the darkness. He was continually imagining that a cannon +ball was flying toward him with a terrific whizz, and then he +shuddered and sat up. He had no idea how long he had been there. In +the middle of the night three soldiers, having brought some +firewood, settled down near him and began lighting a fire. + +The soldiers, who threw sidelong glances at Pierre, got the fire +to burn and placed an iron pot on it into which they broke some +dried bread and put a little dripping. The pleasant odor of greasy +viands mingled with the smell of smoke. Pierre sat up and sighed. +The three soldiers were eating and talking among themselves, taking no +notice of him. + +"And who may you be?" one of them suddenly asked Pierre, evidently +meaning what Pierre himself had in mind, namely: "If you want to eat +we'll give you some food, only let us know whether you are an honest +man." + +"I, I..." said Pierre, feeling it necessary to minimize his social +position as much as possible so as to be nearer to the soldiers and +better understood by them. "By rights I am a militia officer, but my +men are not here. I came to the battle and have lost them." + +"There now!" said one of the soldiers. + +Another shook his head. + +"Would you like a little mash?" the first soldier asked, and +handed Pierre a wooden spoon after licking it clean. + +Pierre sat down by the fire and began eating the mash, as they +called the food in the cauldron, and he thought it more delicious than +any food he had ever tasted. As he sat bending greedily over it, +helping himself to large spoonfuls and chewing one after another, +his was lit up by the fire and the soldiers looked at him in silence. + +"Where have you to go to? Tell us!" said one of them. + +"To Mozhaysk." + +"You're a gentleman, aren't you?" + +"Yes." + +"And what's your name?" + +"Peter Kirilych." + +"Well then, Peter Kirilych, come along with us, we'll take you +there." + +In the total darkness the soldiers walked with Pierre to Mozhaysk. + +By the time they got near Mozhaysk and began ascending the steep +hill into the town, the cocks were already crowing. Pierre went on +with the soldiers, quite forgetting that his inn was at the bottom +of the hill and that he had already passed it. He would not soon +have remembered this, such was his state of forgetfulness, had he +not halfway up the hill stumbled upon his groom, who had been to +look for him in the town and was returning to the inn. The groom +recognized Pierre in the darkness by his white hat. + +"Your excellency!" he said. "Why, we were beginning to despair! +How is it you are on foot? And where are you going, please?" + +"Oh, yes!" said Pierre. + +The soldiers stopped. + +"So you've found your folk?" said one of them. "Well, good-by, Peter +Kirilych--isn't it?" + +"Good-by, Peter Kirilych!" Pierre heard the other voices repeat. + +"Good-by!" he said and turned with his groom toward the inn. + +"I ought to give them something!" he thought, and felt in his +pocket. "No, better not!" said another, inner voice. + +There was not a room to be had at the inn, they were all occupied. +Pierre went out into the yard and, covering himself up head and all, +lay down in his carriage. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Scarcely had Pierre laid his head on the pillow before he felt +himself falling asleep, but suddenly, almost with the distinctness +of reality, he heard the boom, boom, boom of firing, the thud of +projectiles, groans and cries, and smelled blood and powder, and a +feeling of horror and dread of death seized him. Filled with fright he +opened his eyes and lifted his head from under his cloak. All was +tranquil in the yard. Only someone's orderly passed through the +gateway, splashing through the mud, and talked to the innkeeper. Above +Pierre's head some pigeons, disturbed by the movement he had made in +sitting up, fluttered under the dark roof of the penthouse. The +whole courtyard was permeated by a strong peaceful smell of stable +yards, delightful to Pierre at that moment. He could see the clear +starry sky between the dark roofs of two penthouses. + +"Thank God, there is no more of that!" he thought, covering up his +head again. "Oh, what a terrible thing is fear, and how shamefully I +yielded to it! But they... they were steady and calm all the time, +to the end..." thought he. + +They, in Pierre's mind, were the soldiers, those who had been at the +battery, those who had given him food, and those who had prayed before +the icon. They, those strange men he had not previously known, stood +out clearly and sharply from everyone else. + +"To be a soldier, just a soldier!" thought Pierre as he fell asleep, +"to enter communal life completely, to be imbued by what makes them +what they are. But how cast off all the superfluous, devilish burden +of my outer man? There was a time when I could have done it. I could +have run away from my father, as I wanted to. Or I might have been +sent to serve as a soldier after the duel with Dolokhov." And the +memory of the dinner at the English Club when he had challenged +Dolokhov flashed through Pierre's mind, and then he remembered his +benefactor at Torzhok. And now a picture of a solemn meeting of the +lodge presented itself to his mind. It was taking place at the English +Club and someone near and dear to him sat at the end of the table. +"Yes, that is he! It is my benefactor. But he died!" thought Pierre. +"Yes, he died, and I did not know he was alive. How sorry I am that he +died, and how glad I am that he is alive again!" On one side of the +table sat Anatole, Dolokhov, Nesvitski, Denisov, and others like +them (in his dream the category to which these men belonged was as +clearly defined in his mind as the category of those he termed +they), and he heard those people, Anatole and Dolokhov, shouting and +singing loudly; yet through their shouting the voice of his benefactor +was heard speaking all the time and the sound of his words was as +weighty and uninterrupted as the booming on the battlefield, but +pleasant and comforting. Pierre did not understand what his benefactor +was saying, but he knew (the categories of thoughts were also quite +distinct in his dream) that he was talking of goodness and the +possibility of being what they were. And they with their simple, kind, +firm faces surrounded his benefactor on all sides. But though they +were kindly they did not look at Pierre and did not know him. +Wishing to speak and to attract their attention, he got up, but at +that moment his legs grew cold and bare. + +He felt ashamed, and with one arm covered his legs from which his +cloak had in fact slipped. For a moment as he was rearranging his +cloak Pierre opened his eyes and saw the same penthouse roofs, +posts, and yard, but now they were all bluish, lit up, and +glittering with frost or dew. + +"It is dawn," thought Pierre. "But that's not what I want. I want to +hear and understand my benefactor's words." Again he covered himself +up with his cloak, but now neither the lodge nor his benefactor was +there. There were only thoughts clearly expressed in words, thoughts +that someone was uttering or that he himself was formulating. + +Afterwards when he recalled those thoughts Pierre was convinced that +someone outside himself had spoken them, though the impressions of +that day had evoked them. He had never, it seemed to him, been able to +think and express his thoughts like that when awake. + +"To endure war is the most difficult subordination of man's +freedom to the law of God," the voice had said. "Simplicity is +submission to the will of God; you cannot escape from Him. And they +are simple. They do not talk, but act. The spoken word is silver but +the unspoken is golden. Man can be master of nothing while he fears +death, but he who does not fear it possesses all. If there were no +suffering, man would not know his limitations, would not know himself. +The hardest thing [Pierre went on thinking, or hearing, in his +dream] is to be able in your soul to unite the meaning of all. To +unite all?" he asked himself. "No, not to unite. Thoughts cannot be +united, but to harness all these thoughts together is what we need! +Yes, one must harness them, must harness them!" he repeated to himself +with inward rapture, feeling that these words and they alone expressed +what he wanted to say and solved the question that tormented him. + +"Yes, one must harness, it is time to harness." + +"Time to harness, time to harness, your excellency! Your +excellency!" some voice was repeating. "We must harness, it is time to +harness...." + +It was the voice of the groom, trying to wake him. The sun shone +straight into Pierre's face. He glanced at the dirty innyard in the +middle of which soldiers were watering their lean horses at the pump +while carts were passing out of the gate. Pierre turned away with +repugnance, and closing his eyes quickly fell back on the carriage +seat. "No, I don't want that, I don't want to see and understand that. +I want to understand what was revealing itself to me in my dream. +One second more and I should have understood it all! But what am I +to do? Harness, but how can I harness everything?" and Pierre felt +with horror that the meaning of all he had seen and thought in the +dream had been destroyed. + +The groom, the coachman, and the innkeeper told Pierre that an +officer had come with news that the French were already near +Mozhaysk and that our men were leaving it. + +Pierre got up and, having told them to harness and overtake him, +went on foot through the town. + +The troops were moving on, leaving about ten thousand wounded behind +them. There were wounded in the yards, at the windows of the houses, +and the streets were crowded with them. In the streets, around carts +that were to take some of the wounded away, shouts, curses, and +blows could be heard. Pierre offered the use of his carriage, which +had overtaken him, to a wounded general he knew, and drove with him +to Moscow. On the way Pierre was told of the death of his +brother-in-law Anatole and of that of Prince Andrew. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +On the thirteenth of August Pierre reached Moscow. Close to the +gates of the city he was met by Count Rostopchin's adjutant. + +"We have been looking for you everywhere," said the adjutant. "The +count wants to see you particularly. He asks you to come to him at +once on a very important matter." + +Without going home, Pierre took a cab and drove to see the Moscow +commander in chief. + +Count Rostopchin had only that morning returned to town from his +summer villa at Sokolniki. The anteroom and reception room of his +house were full of officials who had been summoned or had come for +orders. Vasilchikov and Platov had already seen the count and +explained to him that it was impossible to defend Moscow and that it +would have to be surrendered. Though this news was being concealed +from the inhabitants, the officials--the heads of the various +government departments--knew that Moscow would soon be in the +enemy's hands, just as Count Rostopchin himself knew it, and to escape +personal responsibility they had all come to the governor to ask how +they were to deal with their various departments. + +As Pierre was entering the reception room a courier from the army +came out of Rostopchin's private room. + +In answer to questions with which he was greeted, the courier made a +despairing gesture with his hand and passed through the room. + +While waiting in the reception room Pierre with weary eyes watched +the various officials, old and young, military and civilian, who +were there. They all seemed dissatisfied and uneasy. Pierre went up to +a group of men, one of whom he knew. After greeting Pierre they +continued their conversation. + +"If they're sent out and brought back again later on it will do no +harm, but as things are now one can't answer for anything." + +"But you see what he writes..." said another, pointing to a +printed sheet he held in his hand. + +"That's another matter. That's necessary for the people," said the +first. + +"What is it?" asked Pierre. + +"Oh, it's a fresh broadsheet." + +Pierre took it and began reading. + + +His Serene Highness has passed through Mozhaysk in order to join +up with the troops moving toward him and has taken up a strong +position where the enemy will not soon attack him. Forty eight guns +with ammunition have been sent him from here, and his Serene +Highness says he will defend Moscow to the last drop of blood and is +even ready to fight in the streets. Do not be upset, brothers, that +the law courts are closed; things have to be put in order, and we will +deal with villains in our own way! When the time comes I shall want +both town and peasant lads and will raise the cry a day or two +beforehand, but they are not wanted yet so I hold my peace. An ax will +be useful, a hunting spear not bad, but a three-pronged fork will be +best of all: a Frenchman is no heavier than a sheaf of rye. Tomorrow +after dinner I shall take the Iberian icon of the Mother of God to the +wounded in the Catherine Hospital where we will have some water +blessed. That will help them to get well quicker. I, too, am well now: +one of my eyes was sore but now I am on the lookout with both. + + +"But military men have told me that it is impossible to fight in the +town," said Pierre, "and that the position..." + +"Well, of course! That's what we were saying," replied the first +speaker. + +"And what does he mean by 'One of my eyes was sore but now I am on +the lookout with both'?" asked Pierre. + +"The count had a sty," replied the adjutant smiling, "and was very +much upset when I told him people had come to ask what was the +matter with him. By the by, Count," he added suddenly, addressing +Pierre with a smile, "we heard that you have family troubles and +that the countess, your wife..." + +"I have heard nothing," Pierre replied unconcernedly. "But what have +you heard?" + +"Oh, well, you know people often invent things. I only say what I +heard." + +"But what did you hear?" + +"Well, they say," continued the adjutant with the same smile, +"that the countess, your wife, is preparing to go abroad. I expect +it's nonsense...." + +"Possibly," remarked Pierre, looking about him absent-mindedly. "And +who is that?" he asked, indicating a short old man in a clean blue +peasant overcoat, with a big snow-white beard and eyebrows and a ruddy +face. + +"He? That's a tradesman, that is to say, he's the restaurant keeper, +Vereshchagin. Perhaps you have heard of that affair with the +proclamation." + +"Oh, so that is Vereshchagin!" said Pierre, looking at the firm, +calm face of the old man and seeking any indication of his being a +traitor. + +"That's not he himself, that's the father of the fellow who wrote +the proclamation," said the adjutant. "The young man is in prison +and I expect it will go hard with him." + +An old gentleman wearing a star and another official, a German +wearing a cross round his neck, approached the speaker. + +"It's a complicated story, you know," said the adjutant. "That +proclamation appeared about two months ago. The count was informed +of it. He gave orders to investigate the matter. Gabriel Ivanovich +here made the inquiries. The proclamation had passed through exactly +sixty-three hands. He asked one, 'From whom did you get it?' 'From +so-and-so.' He went to the next one. 'From whom did you get it?' and +so on till he reached Vereshchagin, a half educated tradesman, you +know, 'a pet of a trader,'" said the adjutant smiling. "They asked +him, 'Who gave it you?' And the point is that we knew whom he had it +from. He could only have had it from the Postmaster. But evidently +they had come to some understanding. He replied: 'From no one; I +made it up myself.' They threatened and questioned him, but he stuck +to that: 'I made it up myself.' And so it was reported to the count, +who sent for the man. 'From whom did you get the proclamation?' 'I +wrote it myself.' Well, you know the count," said the adjutant +cheerfully, with a smile of pride, "he flared up dreadfully--and +just think of the fellow's audacity, lying, and obstinacy!" + + "And the count wanted him to say it was from Klyucharev? I +understand!" said Pierre. + +"Not at all," rejoined the adjutant in dismay. "Klyucharev had his +own sins to answer for without that and that is why he has been +banished. But the point is that the count was much annoyed. 'How could +you have written it yourself?' said he, and he took up the Hamburg +Gazette that was lying on the table. 'Here it is! You did not write it +yourself but translated it, and translated it abominably, because +you don't even know French, you fool.' And what do you think? 'No,' +said he, 'I have not read any papers, I made it up myself.' 'If that's +so, you're a traitor and I'll have you tried, and you'll be hanged! +Say from whom you had it.' 'I have seen no papers, I made it up +myself.' And that was the end of it. The count had the father fetched, +but the fellow stuck to it. He was sent for trial and condemned to +hard labor, I believe. Now the father has come to intercede for him. +But he's a good-for-nothing lad! You know that sort of tradesman's +son, a dandy and lady-killer. He attended some lectures somewhere +and imagines that the devil is no match for him. That's the sort of +fellow he is. His father keeps a cookshop here by the Stone Bridge, +and you know there was a large icon of God Almighty painted with a +scepter in one hand and an orb in the other. Well, he took that icon +home with him for a few days and what did he do? He found some +scoundrel of a painter..." + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +In the middle of this fresh tale Pierre was summoned to the +commander in chief. + +When he entered the private room Count Rostopchin, puckering his +face, was rubbing his forehead and eyes with his hand. A short man was +saying something, but when Pierre entered he stopped speaking and went +out. + +"Ah, how do you do, great warrior?" said Rostopchin as soon as the +short man had left the room. "We have heard of your prowess. But +that's not the point. Between ourselves, mon cher, do you belong to +the Masons?" he went on severely, as though there were something wrong +about it which he nevertheless intended to pardon. Pierre remained +silent. "I am well informed, my friend, but I am aware that there +are Masons and I hope that you are not one of those who +on pretense of saving mankind wish to ruin Russia." + +"Yes, I am a Mason," Pierre replied. + +"There, you see, mon cher! I expect you know that Messrs. +Speranski and Magnitski have been deported to their proper place. +Mr. Klyucharev has been treated in the same way, and so have others +who on the plea of building up the temple of Solomon have tried to +destroy the temple of their fatherland. You can understand that +there are reasons for this and that I could not have exiled the +Postmaster had he not been a harmful person. It has now come to my +knowledge that you lent him your carriage for his removal from town, +and that you have even accepted papers from him for safe custody. I +like you and don't wish you any harm and--as you are only half my age- +I advise you, as a father would, to cease all communication with men +of that stamp and to leave here as soon as possible." + +"But what did Klyucharev do wrong, Count?" asked Pierre. + +"That is for me to know, but not for you to ask," shouted +Rostopchin. + +"If he is accused of circulating Napoleon's proclamation it is not +proved that he did so," said Pierre without looking at Rostopchin, +"and Vereshchagin..." + +"There we are!" Rostopchin shouted at Pierre louder than before, +frowning suddenly. "Vereshchagin is a renegade and a traitor who +will be punished as he deserves," said he with the vindictive heat +with which people speak when recalling an insult. "But I did not +summon you to discuss my actions, but to give you advice--or an +order if you prefer it. I beg you to leave the town and break off +all communication with such men as Klyucharev. And I will knock the +nonsense out of anybody"--but probably realizing that he was +shouting at Bezukhov who so far was not guilty of anything, he +added, taking Pierre's hand in a friendly manner, "We are on the eve +of a public disaster and I haven't time to be polite to everybody +who has business with me. My head is sometimes in a whirl. Well, mon +cher, what are you doing personally?" + +"Why, nothing," answered Pierre without raising his eyes or changing +the thoughtful expression of his face. + +The count frowned. + +"A word of friendly advice, mon cher. Be off as soon as you can, +that's all I have to tell you. Happy he who has ears to hear. Good-by, +my dear fellow. Oh, by the by!" he shouted through the doorway after +Pierre, "is it true that the countess has fallen into the clutches +of the holy fathers of the Society of Jesus?" + +Pierre did not answer and left Rostopchin's room more sullen and +angry than he had ever before shown himself. + +When he reached home it was already getting dark. Some eight +people had come to see him that evening: the secretary of a committee, +the colonel of his battalion, his steward, his major-domo, and various +petitioners. They all had business with Pierre and wanted decisions +from him. Pierre did not understand and was not interested in any of +these questions and only answered them in order to get rid of these +people. When left alone at last he opened and read his wife's letter. + +"They, the soldiers at the battery, Prince Andrew killed... that old +man... Simplicity is submission to God. Suffering is necessary... +the meaning of all... one must harness... my wife is getting +married... One must forget and understand..." And going to his bed +he threw himself on it without undressing and immediately fell asleep. + +When he awoke next morning the major-domo came to inform him that +a special messenger, a police officer, had come from Count +Rostopchin to know whether Count Bezukhov had left or was leaving +the town. + +A dozen persons who had business with Pierre were awaiting him in +the drawing room. Pierre dressed hurriedly and, instead of going to +see them, went to the back porch and out through the gate. + +From that time till the end of the destruction of Moscow no one of +Bezukhov's household, despite all the search they made, saw Pierre +again or knew where he was. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The Rostovs remained in Moscow till the first of September, that is, +till the eve of the enemy's entry into the city. + +After Petya had joined Obolenski's regiment of Cossacks and left for +Belaya Tserkov where that regiment was forming, the countess was +seized with terror. The thought that both her sons were at the war, +had both gone from under her wing, that today or tomorrow either or +both of them might be killed like the three sons of one of her +acquaintances, struck her that summer for the first time with cruel +clearness. She tried to get Nicholas back and wished to go herself +to join Petya, or to get him an appointment somewhere in Petersburg, +but neither of these proved possible. Petya could not return unless +his regiment did so or unless he was transferred to another regiment +on active service. Nicholas was somewhere with the army and had not +sent a word since his last letter, in which he had given a detailed +account of his meeting with Princess Mary. The countess did not +sleep at night, or when she did fall asleep dreamed that she saw her +sons lying dead. After many consultations and conversations, the count +at last devised means to tranquillize her. He got Petya transferred +from Obolenski's regiment to Bezukhov's, which was in training near +Moscow. Though Petya would remain in the service, this transfer +would give the countess the consolation of seeing at least one of +her sons under her wing, and she hoped to arrange matters for her +Petya so as not to let him go again, but always get him appointed to +places where he could not possibly take part in a battle. As long as +Nicholas alone was in danger the countess imagined that she loved +her first-born more than all her other children and even reproached +herself for it; but when her youngest: the scapegrace who had been bad +at lessons, was always breaking things in the house and making himself +a nuisance to everybody, that snub-nosed Petya with his merry black +eyes and fresh rosy cheeks where soft down was just beginning to show- +when he was thrown amid those big, dreadful, cruel men who were +fighting somewhere about something and apparently finding pleasure +in it--then his mother thought she loved him more, much more, than all +her other children. The nearer the time came for Petya to return, +the more uneasy grew the countess. She began to think she would +never live to see such happiness. The presence of Sonya, of her +beloved Natasha, or even of her husband irritated her. "What do I want +with them? I want no one but Petya," she thought. + +At the end of August the Rostovs received another letter from +Nicholas. He wrote from the province of Voronezh where he had been +sent to procure remounts, but that letter did not set the countess +at ease. Knowing that one son was out of danger she became the more +anxious about Petya. + +Though by the twentieth of August nearly all the Rostovs' +acquaintances had left Moscow, and though everybody tried to +persuade the countess to get away as quickly as possible, she would +not bear of leaving before her treasure, her adored Petya, returned. +On the twenty-eighth of August he arrived. The passionate tenderness +with which his mother received him did not please the sixteen-year-old +officer. Though she concealed from him her intention of keeping him +under her wing, Petya guessed her designs, and instinctively fearing +that he might give way to emotion when with her--might "become +womanish" as he termed it to himself--he treated her coldly, avoided +her, and during his stay in Moscow attached himself exclusively to +Natasha for whom he had always had a particularly brotherly +tenderness, almost lover-like. + +Owing to the count's customary carelessness nothing was ready for +their departure by the twenty-eighth of August and the carts that were +to come from their Ryazan and Moscow estates to remove their household +belongings did not arrive till the thirtieth. + +From the twenty-eighth till the thirty-first all Moscow was in a +bustle and commotion. Every day thousands of men wounded at Borodino +were brought in by the Dorogomilov gate and taken to various parts +of Moscow, and thousands of carts conveyed the inhabitants and their +possessions out by the other gates. In spite of Rostopchin's +broadsheets, or because of them or independently of them, the +strangest and most contradictory rumors were current in the town. Some +said that no one was to be allowed to leave the city, others on the +contrary said that all the icons had been taken out of the churches +and everybody was to be ordered to leave. Some said there had been +another battle after Borodino at which the French had been routed, +while others on the contrary reported that the Russian army bad been +destroyed. Some talked about the Moscow militia which, preceded by the +clergy, would go to the Three Hills; others whispered that Augustin +had been forbidden to leave, that traitors had been seized, that the +peasants were rioting and robbing people on their way from Moscow, and +so on. But all this was only talk; in reality (though the Council of +Fili, at which it was decided to abandon Moscow, had not yet been +held) both those who went away and those who remained behind felt, +though they did not show it, that Moscow would certainly be abandoned, +and that they ought to get away as quickly as possible and save +their belongings. It was felt that everything would suddenly break +up and change, but up to the first of September nothing had done so. +As a criminal who is being led to execution knows that he must die +immediately, but yet looks about him and straightens the cap that is +awry on his head, so Moscow involuntarily continued its wonted life, +though it knew that the time of its destruction was near when the +conditions of life to which its people were accustomed to submit would +be completely upset. + +During the three days preceding the occupation of Moscow the whole +Rostov family was absorbed in various activities. The head of the +family, Count Ilya Rostov, continually drove about the city collecting +the current rumors from all sides and gave superficial and hasty +orders at home about the preparations for their departure. + +The countess watched the things being packed, was dissatisfied +with everything, was constantly in pursuit of Petya who was always +running away from her, and was jealous of Natasha with whom he spent +all his time. Sonya alone directed the practical side of matters by +getting things packed. But of late Sonya had been particularly sad and +silent. Nicholas' letter in which he mentioned Princess Mary had +elicited, in her presence, joyous comments from the countess, who +saw an intervention of Providence in this meeting of the princess +and Nicholas. + +"I was never pleased at Bolkonski's engagement to Natasha," said the +countess, "but I always wanted Nicholas to marry the princess, and had +a presentiment that it would happen. What a good thing it would be!" + +Sonya felt that this was true: that the only possibility of +retrieving the Rostovs' affairs was by Nicholas marrying a rich woman, +and that the princess was a good match. It was very bitter for her. +But despite her grief, or perhaps just because of it, she took on +herself all the difficult work of directing the storing and packing of +their things and was busy for whole days. The count and countess +turned to her when they had any orders to give. Petya and Natasha on +the contrary, far from helping their parents, were generally a +nuisance and a hindrance to everyone. Almost all day long the house +resounded with their running feet, their cries, and their +spontaneous laughter. They laughed and were gay not because there +was any reason to laugh, but because gaiety and mirth were in their +hearts and so everything that happened was a cause for gaiety and +laughter to them. Petya was in high spirits because having left home a +boy he had returned (as everybody told him) a fine young man, +because he was at home, because he had left Belaya Tserkov where there +was no hope of soon taking part in a battle and had come to Moscow +where there was to be fighting in a few days, and chiefly because +Natasha, whose lead he always followed, was in high spirits. Natasha +was gay because she had been sad too long and now nothing reminded her +of the cause of her sadness, and because she was feeling well. She was +also happy because she had someone to adore her: the adoration of +others was a lubricant the wheels of her machine needed to make them +run freely--and Petya adored her. Above all, they were gay because +there was a war near Moscow, there would be fighting at the town +gates, arms were being given out, everybody was escaping--going away +somewhere, and in general something extraordinary was happening, and +that is always exciting, especially to the young. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +On Saturday, the thirty-first of August, everything in the +Rostovs' house seemed topsy-turvy. All the doors were open, all the +furniture was being carried out or moved about, and the mirrors and +pictures had been taken down. There were trunks in the rooms, and hay, +wrapping paper, and ropes were scattered about. The peasants and house +serfs carrying out the things were treading heavily on the parquet +floors. The yard was crowded with peasant carts, some loaded high +and already corded up, others still empty. + +The voices and footsteps of the many servants and of the peasants +who had come with the carts resounded as they shouted to one another +in the yard and in the house. The count bad been out since morning. +The countess had a headache brought on by all the noise and turmoil +and was lying down in the new sitting room with a vinegar compress +on her head. Petya was not at home, he had gone to visit a friend with +whom he meant to obtain a transfer from the militia to the active +army. Sonya was in the ballroom looking after the packing of the glass +and china. Natasha was sitting on the floor of her dismantled room +with dresses, ribbons, and scarves strewn all about her, gazing +fixedly at the floor and holding in her hands the old ball dress +(already out of fashion) which she had worn at her first Petersburg +ball. + +Natasha was ashamed of doing nothing when everyone else was so busy, +and several times that morning had tried to set to work, but her heart +was not in it, and she could not and did not know how to do anything +except with all her heart and all her might. For a while she had stood +beside Sonya while the china was being packed and tried to help, but +soon gave it up and went to her room to pack her own things. At +first she found it amusing to give away dresses and ribbons to the +maids, but when that was done and what was left had still to be +packed, she found it dull. + +"Dunyasha, you pack! You will, won't you, dear?" And when Dunyasha +willingly promised to do it all for her, Natasha sat down on the +floor, took her old ball dress, and fell into a reverie quite +unrelated to what ought to have occupied her thoughts now. She was +roused from her reverie by the talk of the maids in the next room +(which was theirs) and by the sound of their hurried footsteps going +to the back porch. Natasha got up and looked out of the window. An +enormously long row of carts full of wounded men had stopped in the +street. + +The housekeeper, the old nurse, the cooks, coachmen, maids, footmen, +postilions, and scullions stood at the gate, staring at the wounded. + +Natasha, throwing a clean pocket handkerchief over her hair and +holding an end of it in each hand, went out into the street. + +The former housekeeper, old Mavra Kuzminichna, had stepped out of +the crowd by the gate, gone up to a cart with a hood constructed of +bast mats, and was speaking to a pale young officer who lay inside. +Natasha moved a few steps forward and stopped shyly, still holding her +handkerchief, and listened to what the housekeeper was saying. + +"Then you have nobody in Moscow?" she was saying. "You would be more +comfortable somewhere in a house... in ours, for instance... the +family are leaving." + +"I don't know if it would be allowed," replied the officer in a weak +voice. "Here is our commanding officer... ask him," and he pointed +to a stout major who was walking back along the street past the row of +carts. + +Natasha glanced with frightened eyes at the face of the wounded +officer and at once went to meet the major. + +"May the wounded men stay in our house?" she asked. + +The major raised his hand to his cap with a smile. + +"Which one do you want, Ma'am'selle?" said he, screwing up his +eyes and smiling. + +Natasha quietly repeated her question, and her face and whole manner +were so serious, though she was still holding the ends of her +handkerchief, that the major ceased smiling and after some reflection- +as if considering in how far the thing was possible--replied in the +affirmative. + +"Oh yes, why not? They may," he said. + +With a slight inclination of her head, Natasha stepped back +quickly to Mavra Kuzminichna, who stood talking compassionately to the +officer. + +"They may. He says they may!" whispered Natasha. + +The cart in which the officer lay was turned into the Rostovs' yard, +and dozens of carts with wounded men began at the invitation of the +townsfolk to turn into the yards and to draw up at the entrances of +the houses in Povarskaya Street. Natasha was evidently pleased to be +dealing with new people outside the ordinary routine of her life. +She and Mavra Kuzminichna tried to get as many of the wounded as +possible into their yard. + +"Your Papa must be told, though," said Mavra Kuzminichna. + +"Never mind, never mind, what does it matter? For one day we can +move into the drawing room. They can have all our half of the house." + +"There now, young lady, you do take things into your head! Even if +we put them into the wing, the men's room, or the nurse's room, we +must ask permission." + +"Well, I'll ask." + +Natasha ran into the house and went on tiptoe through the +half-open door into the sitting room, where there was a smell of +vinegar and Hoffman's drops. + +"Are you asleep, Mamma?" + +"Oh, what sleep-?" said the countess, waking up just as she was +dropping into a doze. + +"Mamma darling!" said Natasha, kneeling by her mother and bringing +her face close to her mother's, "I am sorry, forgive me, I'll never do +it again; I woke you up! Mavra Kuzminichna has sent me: they have +brought some wounded here--officers. Will you let them come? They have +nowhere to go. I knew you'd let them come!" she said quickly all in +one breath. + +"What officers? Whom have they brought? I don't understand +anything about it," said the countess. + +Natasha laughed, and the countess too smiled slightly. + +"I knew you'd give permission... so I'll tell them," and, having +kissed her mother, Natasha got up and went to the door. + +In the hall she met her father, who had returned with bad news. + +"We've stayed too long!" said the count with involuntary vexation. +"The Club is closed and the police are leaving." + +"Papa, is it all right--I've invited some of the wounded into the +house?" said Natasha. + +"Of course it is," he answered absently. "That's not the point. I +beg you not to indulge in trifles now, but to help to pack, and +tomorrow we must go, go, go!...." + +And the count gave a similar order to the major-domo and the +servants. + +At dinner Petya having returned home told them the news he had +heard. He said the people had been getting arms in the Kremlin, and +that though Rostopchin's broadsheet had said that he would sound a +call two or three days in advance, the order had certainly already +been given for everyone to go armed to the Three Hills tomorrow, and +that there would be a big battle there. + +The countess looked with timid horror at her son's eager, excited +face as he said this. She realized that if she said a word about his +not going to the battle (she knew he enjoyed the thought of the +impending engagement) he would say something about men, honor, and the +fatherland--something senseless, masculine, and obstinate which +there would be no contradicting, and her plans would be spoiled; and +so, hoping to arrange to leave before then and take Petya with her +as their protector and defender, she did not answer him, but after +dinner called the count aside and implored him with tears to take +her away quickly, that very night if possible. With a woman's +involuntary loving cunning she, who till then had not shown any alarm, +said that she would die of fright if they did not leave that very +night. Without any pretense she was now afraid of everything. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Madame Schoss, who had been out to visit her daughter, increased the +countess' fears still more by telling what she had seen at a spirit +dealer's in Myasnitski Street. When returning by that street she had +been unable to pass because of a drunken crowd rioting in front of the +shop. She had taken a cab and driven home by a side street and the +cabman had told her that the people were breaking open the barrels +at the drink store, having received orders to do so. + +After dinner the whole Rostov household set to work with +enthusiastic haste packing their belongings and preparing for their +departure. The old count, suddenly setting to work, kept passing +from the yard to the house and back again, shouting confused +instructions to the hurrying people, and flurrying them still more. +Petya directed things in the yard. Sonya, owing to the count's +contradictory orders, lost her head and did not know what to do. The +servants ran noisily about the house and yard, shouting and disputing. +Natasha, with the ardor characteristic of all she did suddenly set +to work too. At first her intervention in the business of packing +was received skeptically. Everybody expected some prank from her and +did not wish to obey her; but she resolutely and passionately demanded +obedience, grew angry and nearly cried because they did not heed +her, and at last succeeded in making them believe her. Her first +exploit, which cost her immense effort and established her +authority, was the packing of the carpets. The count had valuable +Gobelin tapestries and Persian carpets in the house. When Natasha +set to work two cases were standing open in the ballroom, one almost +full up with crockery, the other with carpets. There was also much +china standing on the tables, and still more was being brought in from +the storeroom. A third case was needed and servants had gone to +fetch it. + +"Sonya, wait a bit--we'll pack everything into these," said Natasha. + +"You can't, Miss, we have tried to," said the butler's assistant. + +"No, wait a minute, please." + +And Natasha began rapidly taking out of the case dishes and plates +wrapped in paper. + +"The dishes must go in here among the carpets," said she. + +"Why, it's a mercy if we can get the carpets alone into three +cases," said the butler's assistant. + +"Oh, wait, please!" And Natasha began rapidly and deftly sorting out +the things. "These aren't needed," said she, putting aside some plates +of Kiev ware. "These--yes, these must go among the carpets," she said, +referring to the Saxony china dishes. + +"Don't, Natasha! Leave it alone! We'll get it all packed," urged +Sonya reproachfully. + +"What a young lady she is!" remarked the major-domo. + +But Natasha would not give in. She turned everything out and began +quickly repacking, deciding that the inferior Russian carpets and +unnecessary crockery should not be taken at all. When everything had +been taken out of the cases, they recommenced packing, and it turned +out that when the cheaper things not worth taking had nearly all +been rejected, the valuable ones really did all go into the two cases. +Only the lid of the case containing the carpets would not shut down. A +few more things might have been taken out, but Natasha insisted on +having her own way. She packed, repacked, pressed, made the butler's +assistant and Petya--whom she had drawn into the business of +packing--press on the lid, and made desperate efforts herself. + +"That's enough, Natasha," said Sonya. "I see you were right, but +just take out the top one." + +"I won't!" cried Natasha, with one hand bolding back the hair that +hung over her perspiring face, while with the other she pressed down +the carpets. "Now press, Petya! Press, Vasilich, press hard!" she +cried. + +The carpets yielded and the lid closed; Natasha, clapping her hands, +screamed with delight and tears fell from her eyes. But this only +lasted a moment. She at once set to work afresh and they now trusted +her completely. The count was not angry even when they told him that +Natasha had countermanded an order of his, and the servants now came +to her to ask whether a cart was sufficiently loaded, and whether it +might be corded up. Thanks to Natasha's directions the work now went +on expeditiously, unnecessary things were left, and the most +valuable packed as compactly as possible. + +But hard as they all worked till quite late that night, they could +not get everything packed. The countess had fallen asleep and the +count, having put off their departure till next morning, went to bed. + +Sonya and Natasha slept in the sitting room without undressing. + +That night another wounded man was driven down the Povarskaya, and +Mavra Kuzminichna, who was standing at the gate, had him brought +into the Rostovs' yard. Mavra Kuzminichna concluded that he was a very +important man. He was being conveyed in a caleche with a raised +hood, and was quite covered by an apron. On the box beside the +driver sat a venerable old attendant. A doctor and two soldiers +followed the carriage in a cart. + +"Please come in here. The masters are going away and the whole house +will be empty," said the old woman to the old attendant. + +"Well, perhaps," said he with a sigh. "We don't expect to get him +home alive! We have a house of our own in Moscow, but it's a long +way from here, and there's nobody living in it." + +"Do us the honor to come in, there's plenty of everything in the +master's house. Come in," said Mavra Kuzminichna. "Is he very ill?" +she asked. + +The attendant made a hopeless gesture. + +"We don't expect to get him home! We must ask the doctor." + +And the old servant got down from the box and went up to the cart. + +"All right!" said the doctor. + +The old servant returned to the caleche, looked into it, shook his +head disconsolately, told the driver to turn into the yard, and +stopped beside Mavra Kuzminichna. + +"O, Lord Jesus Christ!" she murmured. + +She invited them to take the wounded man into the house. + +"The masters won't object..." she said. + +But they had to avoid carrying the man upstairs, and so they took +him into the wing and put him in the room that had been Madame +Schoss'. + +This wounded man was Prince Andrew Bolkonski. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Moscow's last day had come. It was a clear bright autumn day, a +Sunday. The church bells everywhere were ringing for service, just +as usual on Sundays. Nobody seemed yet to realize what awaited the +city. + +Only two things indicated the social condition of Moscow--the +rabble, that is the poor people, and the price of commodities. An +enormous crowd of factory hands, house serfs, and peasants, with +whom some officials, seminarists, and gentry were mingled, had gone +early that morning to the Three Hills. Having waited there for +Rostopchin who did not turn up, they became convinced that Moscow +would be surrendered, and then dispersed all about the town to the +public houses and cookshops. Prices too that day indicated the state +of affairs. The price of weapons, of gold, of carts and horses, kept +rising, but the value of paper money and city articles kept falling, +so that by midday there were instances of carters removing valuable +goods, such as cloth, and receiving in payment a half of what they +carted, while peasant horses were fetching five hundred rubles each, +and furniture, mirrors, and bronzes were being given away for nothing. + +In the Rostovs' staid old-fashioned house the dissolution of +former conditions of life was but little noticeable. As to the serfs +the only indication was that three out of their huge retinue +disappeared during the night, but nothing was stolen; and as to the +value of their possessions, the thirty peasant carts that had come +in from their estates and which many people envied proved to be +extremely valuable and they were offered enormous sums of money for +them. Not only were huge sums offered for the horses and carts, but on +the previous evening and early in the morning of the first of +September, orderlies and servants sent by wounded officers came to the +Rostovs' and wounded men dragged themselves there from the Rostovs' +and from neighboring houses where they were accommodated, entreating +the servants to try to get them a lift out of Moscow. The major-domo +to whom these entreaties were addressed, though he was sorry for the +wounded, resolutely refused, saying that he dare not even mention +the matter to the count. Pity these wounded men as one might, it was +evident that if they were given one cart there would be no reason to +refuse another, or all the carts and one's own carriages as well. +Thirty carts could not save all the wounded and in the general +catastrophe one could not disregard oneself and one's own family. So +thought the major-domo on his master's behalf. + +On waking up that morning Count Ilya Rostov left his bedroom softly, +so as not to wake the countess who had fallen asleep only toward +morning, and came out to the porch in his lilac silk dressing gown. In +the yard stood the carts ready corded. The carriages were at the front +porch. The major-domo stood at the porch talking to an elderly orderly +and to a pale young officer with a bandaged arm. On seeing the count +the major-domo made a significant and stern gesture to them both to go +away. + +"Well, Vasilich, is everything ready?" asked the count, and stroking +his bald head he looked good-naturedly at the officer and the +orderly and nodded to them. (He liked to see new faces.) + +"We can harness at once, your excellency." + +"Well, that's right. As soon as the countess wakes we'll be off, God +willing! What is it, gentlemen?" he added, turning to the officer. +"Are you staying in my house?" + +The officer came nearer and suddenly his face flushed crimson. + +"Count, be so good as to allow me... for God's sake, to get into +some corner of one of your carts! I have nothing here with me.... I +shall be all right on a loaded cart..." + +Before the officer had finished speaking the orderly made the same +request on behalf of his master. + +"Oh, yes, yes, yes!" said the count hastily. "I shall be very +pleased, very pleased. Vasilich, you'll see to it. Just unload one +or two carts. Well, what of it... do what's necessary..." said the +count, muttering some indefinite order. + +But at the same moment an expression of warm gratitude on the +officer's face had already sealed the order. The count looked around +him. In the yard, at the gates, at the window of the wings, wounded +officers and their orderlies were to be seen. They were all looking at +the count and moving toward the porch. + +"Please step into the gallery, your excellency," said the +major-domo. "What are your orders about the pictures?" + +The count went into the house with him, repeating his order not to +refuse the wounded who asked for a lift. + +"Well, never mind, some of the things can be unloaded," he added +in a soft, confidential voice, as though afraid of being overheard. + +At nine o'clock the countess woke up, and Matrena Timofeevna, who +had been her lady's maid before her marriage and now performed a +sort of chief gendarme's duty for her, came to say that Madame +Schoss was much offended and the young ladies' summer dresses could +not be left behind. On inquiry, the countess learned that Madame +Schoss was offended because her trunk had been taken down from its +cart, and all the loads were being uncorded and the luggage taken +out of the carts to make room for wounded men whom the count in the +simplicity of his heart had ordered that they should take with them. +The countess sent for her husband. + +"What is this, my dear? I hear that the luggage is being unloaded." + +"You know, love, I wanted to tell you... Countess dear... an officer +came to me to ask for a few carts for the wounded. After all, ours are +things that can be bought but think what being left behind means to +them!... Really now, in our own yard--we asked them in ourselves and +there are officers among them.... You know, I think, my dear... let +them be taken... where's the hurry?" + +The count spoke timidly, as he always did when talking of money +matters. The countess was accustomed to this tone as a precursor of +news of something detrimental to the children's interests, such as the +building of a new gallery or conservatory, the inauguration of a +private theater or an orchestra. She was accustomed always to oppose +anything announced in that timid tone and considered it her duty to do +so. + +She assumed her dolefully submissive manner and said to her husband: +"Listen to me, Count, you have managed matters so that we are +getting nothing for the house, and now you wish to throw away all our- +all the children's property! You said yourself that we have a +hundred thousand rubles' worth of things in the house. I don't +consent, my dear, I don't! Do as you please! It's the government's +business to look after the wounded; they know that. Look at the +Lopukhins opposite, they cleared out everything two days ago. That's +what other people do. It's only we who are such fools. If you have +no pity on me, have some for the children." + +Flourishing his arms in despair the count left the room without +replying. + +"Papa, what are you doing that for?" asked Natasha, who had followed +him into her mother's room. + +"Nothing! What business is it of yours?" muttered the count angrily. + +"But I heard," said Natasha. "Why does Mamma object?" + +"What business is it of yours?" cried the count. + +Natasha stepped up to the window and pondered. + +"Papa! Here's Berg coming to see us," said she, looking out of the +window. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Berg, the Rostovs' son-in-law, was already a colonel wearing the +orders of Vladimir and Anna, and he still filled the quiet and +agreeable post of assistant to the head of the staff of the +assistant commander of the first division of the Second Army. + +On the first of September he had come to Moscow from the army. + +He had nothing to do in Moscow, but he had noticed that everyone +in the army was asking for leave to visit Moscow and had something +to do there. So he considered it necessary to ask for leave of absence +for family and domestic reasons. + +Berg drove up to his father-in-law's house in his spruce little trap +with a pair of sleek roans, exactly like those of a certain prince. He +looked attentively at the carts in the yard and while going up to +the porch took out a clean pocket handkerchief and tied a knot in it. + +From the anteroom Berg ran with smooth though impatient steps into +the drawing room, where he embraced the count, kissed the hands of +Natasha and Sonya, and hastened to inquire after "Mamma's" health. + +"Health, at a time like this?" said the count. "Come, tell us the +news! Is the army retreating or will there be another battle?" + +"God Almighty alone can decide the fate of our fatherland, Papa," +said Berg. "The army is burning with a spirit of heroism and the +leaders, so to say, have now assembled in council. No one knows what +is coming. But in general I can tell you, Papa, that such a heroic +spirit, the truly antique valor of the Russian army, which they--which +it" (he corrected himself) "has shown or displayed in the battle of +the twenty-sixth--there are no words worthy to do it justice! I tell +you, Papa" (he smote himself on the breast as a general he had heard +speaking had done, but Berg did it a trifle late for he should have +struck his breast at the words "Russian army"), "I tell you frankly +that we, the commanders, far from having to urge the men on or +anything of that kind, could hardly restrain those... those... yes, +those exploits of antique valor," he went on rapidly. "General Barclay +de Tolly risked his life everywhere at the head of the troops, I can +assure you. Our corps was stationed on a hillside. You can imagine!" + +And Berg related all that he remembered of the various tales he +had heard those days. Natasha watched him with an intent gaze that +confused him, as if she were trying to find in his face the answer +to some question. + +"Altogether such heroism as was displayed by the Russian warriors +cannot be imagined or adequately praised!" said Berg, glancing round +at Natasha, and as if anxious to conciliate her, replying to her +intent look with a smile. "'Russia is not in Moscow, she lives in +the hearts of her sons!' Isn't it so, Papa?" said he. + +Just then the countess came in from the sitting room with a weary +and dissatisfied expression. Berg hurriedly jumped up, kissed her +hand, asked about her health, and, swaying his head from side to +side to express sympathy, remained standing beside her. + +"Yes, Mamma, I tell you sincerely that these are hard and sad +times for every Russian. But why are you so anxious? You have still +time to get away...." + +"I can't think what the servants are about," said the countess, +turning to her husband. "I have just been told that nothing is ready +yet. Somebody after all must see to things. One misses Mitenka at such +times. There won't be any end to it." + +The count was about to say something, but evidently restrained +himself. He got up from his chair and went to the door. + +At that moment Berg drew out his handkerchief as if to blow his nose +and, seeing the knot in it, pondered, shaking his head sadly and +significantly. + +"And I have a great favor to ask of you, Papa," said he. + +"Hm..." said the count, and stopped. + +"I was driving past Yusupov's house just now," said Berg with a +laugh, "when the steward, a man I know, ran out and asked me whether I +wouldn't buy something. I went in out of curiosity, you know, and +there is a small chiffonier and a dressing table. You know how dear +Vera wanted a chiffonier like that and how we had a dispute about it." +(At the mention of the chiffonier and dressing table Berg +involuntarily changed his tone to one of pleasure at his admirable +domestic arrangements.) "And it's such a beauty! It pulls out and +has a secret English drawer, you know! And dear Vera has long wanted +one. I wish to give her a surprise, you see. I saw so many of those +peasant carts in your yard. Please let me have one, I will pay the man +well, and..." + +The count frowned and coughed. + +"Ask the countess, I don't give orders." + +"If it's inconvenient, please don't," said Berg. "Only I so wanted +it, for dear Vera's sake." + +"Oh, go to the devil, all of you! To the devil, the devil, the +devil..." cried the old count. "My head's in a whirl!" + +And he left the room. The countess began to cry. + +"Yes, Mamma! Yes, these are very hard times!" said Berg. + +Natasha left the room with her father and, as if finding it +difficult to reach some decision, first followed him and then ran +downstairs. + +Petya was in the porch, engaged in giving out weapons to the +servants who were to leave Moscow. The loaded carts were still +standing in the yard. Two of them had been uncorded and a wounded +officer was climbing into one of them helped by an orderly. + +"Do you know what it's about?" Petya asked Natasha. + +She understood that he meant what were their parents quarreling +about. She did not answer. + +"It's because Papa wanted to give up all the carts to the +wounded," said Petya. "Vasilich told me. I consider..." + +"I consider," Natasha suddenly almost shouted, turning her angry +face to Petya, "I consider it so horrid, so abominable, so... I +don't know what. Are we despicable Germans?" + +Her throat quivered with convulsive sobs and, afraid of weakening +and letting the force of her anger run to waste, she turned and rushed +headlong up the stairs. + +Berg was sitting beside the countess consoling her with the +respectful attention of a relative. The count, pipe in hand, was +pacing up and down the room, when Natasha, her face distorted by +anger, burst in like a tempest and approached her mother with rapid +steps. + +"It's horrid! It's abominable!" she screamed. "You can't possibly +have ordered it!" + +Berg and the countess looked at her, perplexed and frightened. The +count stood still at the window and listened. + +"Mamma, it's impossible: see what is going on in the yard!" she +cried. "They will be left!..." + +"What's the matter with you? Who are 'they'? What do you want?" + +"Why, the wounded! It's impossible, Mamma. It's monstrous!... No, +Mamma darling, it's not the thing. Please forgive me, darling.... +Mamma, what does it matter what we take away? Only look what is +going on in the yard... Mamma!... It's impossible!" + +The count stood by the window and listened without turning round. +Suddenly he sniffed and put his face closer to the window. + +The countess glanced at her daughter, saw her face full of shame for +her mother, saw her agitation, and understood why her husband did +not turn to look at her now, and she glanced round quite disconcerted. + +"Oh, do as you like! Am I hindering anyone?" she said, not +surrendering at once. + +"Mamma, darling, forgive me!" + +But the countess pushed her daughter away and went up to her +husband. + +"My dear, you order what is right.... You know I don't understand +about it," said she, dropping her eyes shamefacedly. + +"The eggs... the eggs are teaching the hen," muttered the count +through tears of joy, and he embraced his wife who was glad to hide +her look of shame on his breast. + +"Papa! Mamma! May I see to it? May I?..." asked Natasha. "We will +still take all the most necessary things." + +The count nodded affirmatively, and Natasha, at the rapid pace at +which she used to run when playing at tag, ran through the ballroom to +the anteroom and downstairs into the yard. + +The servants gathered round Natasha, but could not believe the +strange order she brought them until the count himself, in his +wife's name, confirmed the order to give up all the carts to the +wounded and take the trunks to the storerooms. When they understood +that order the servants set to work at this new task with pleasure and +zeal. It no longer seemed strange to them but on the contrary it +seemed the only thing that could be done, just as a quarter of an hour +before it had not seemed strange to anyone that the wounded should +be left behind and the goods carted away but that had seemed the +only thing to do. + +The whole household, as if to atone for not having done it sooner, +set eagerly to work at the new task of placing the wounded in the +carts. The wounded dragged themselves out of their rooms and stood +with pale but happy faces round the carts. The news that carts were to +be had spread to the neighboring houses, from which wounded men +began to come into the Rostovs' yard. Many of the wounded asked them +not to unload the carts but only to let them sit on the top of the +things. But the work of unloading, once started, could not be +arrested. It seemed not to matter whether all or only half the +things were left behind. Cases full of china, bronzes, pictures, and +mirrors that had been so carefully packed the night before now lay +about the yard, and still they went on searching for and finding +possibilities of unloading this or that and letting the wounded have +another and yet another cart. + +"We can take four more men," said the steward. "They can have my +trap, or else what is to become of them?" + +"Let them have my wardrobe cart," said the countess. "Dunyasha can +go with me in the carriage." + +They unloaded the wardrobe cart and sent it to take wounded men from +a house two doors off. The whole household, servants included, was +bright and animated. Natasha was in a state of rapturous excitement +such as she had not known for a long time. + +"What could we fasten this onto?" asked the servants, trying to +fix a trunk on the narrow footboard behind a carriage. "We must keep +at least one cart." + +"What's in it?" asked Natasha. + +"The count's books." + +"Leave it, Vasilich will put it away. It's not wanted." + +The phaeton was full of people and there was a doubt as to where +Count Peter could sit. + +"On the box. You'll sit on the box, won't you, Petya?" cried +Natasha. + +Sonya too was busy all this time, but the aim of her efforts was +quite different from Natasha's. She was putting away the things that +had to be left behind and making a list of them as the countess +wished, and she tried to get as much taken away with them as possible. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Before two o'clock in the afternoon the Rostovs' four carriages, +packed full and with the horses harnessed, stood at the front door. +One by one the carts with the wounded had moved out of the yard. + +The caleche in which Prince Andrew was being taken attracted Sonya's +attention as it passed the front porch. With the help of a maid she +was arranging a seat for the countess in the huge high coach that +stood at the entrance. + +"Whose caleche is that?" she inquired, leaning out of the carriage +window. + +"Why, didn't you know, Miss?" replied the maid. "The wounded prince: +he spent the night in our house and is going with us." + +"But who is it? What's his name?" + +"It's our intended that was--Prince Bolkonski himself! They say he +is dying," replied the maid with a sigh. + +Sonya jumped out of the coach and ran to the countess. The countess, +tired out and already dressed in shawl and bonnet for her journey, was +pacing up and down the drawing room, waiting for the household to +assemble for the usual silent prayer with closed doors before +starting. Natasha was not in the room. + +"Mamma," said Sonya, "Prince Andrew is here, mortally wounded. He is +going with us." + +The countess opened her eyes in dismay and, seizing Sonya's arm, +glanced around. + +"Natasha?" she murmured. + +At that moment this news had only one significance for both of them. +They knew their Natasha, and alarm as to what would happen if she +heard this news stifled all sympathy for the man they both liked. + +"Natasha does not know yet, but he is going with us," said Sonya. + +"You say he is dying?" + +Sonya nodded. + +The countess put her arms around Sonya and began to cry. + +"The ways of God are past finding out!" she thought, feeling that +the Almighty Hand, hitherto unseen, was becoming manifest in all +that was now taking place. + +"Well, Mamma? Everything is ready. What's the matter?" asked +Natasha, as with animated face she ran into the room. + +"Nothing," answered the countess. "If everything is ready let us +start." + +And the countess bent over her reticule to hide her agitated face. +Sonya embraced Natasha and kissed her. + +Natasha looked at her inquiringly. + +"What is it? What has happened?" + +"Nothing... No..." + +"Is it something very bad for me? What is it?" persisted Natasha +with her quick intuition. + +Sonya sighed and made no reply. The count, Petya, Madame Schoss, +Mavra Kuzminichna, and Vasilich came into the drawing room and, having +closed the doors, they all sat down and remained for some moments +silently seated without looking at one another. + +The count was the first to rise, and with a loud sigh crossed +himself before the icon. All the others did the same. Then the count +embraced Mavra Kuzminichna and Vasilich, who were to remain in Moscow, +and while they caught at his hand and kissed his shoulder he patted +their backs lightly with some vaguely affectionate and comforting +words. The countess went into the oratory and there Sonya found her on +her knees before the icons that had been left here and there hanging +on the wall. (The most precious ones, with which some family tradition +was connected, were being taken with them.) + +In the porch and in the yard the men whom Petya had armed with +swords and daggers, with trousers tucked inside their high boots and +with belts and girdles tightened, were taking leave of those remaining +behind. + +As is always the case at a departure, much had been forgotten or put +in the wrong place, and for a long time two menservants stood one on +each side of the open door and the carriage steps waiting to help +the countess in, while maids rushed with cushions and bundles from the +house to the carriages, the caleche, the phaeton, and back again. + +"They always will forget everything!" said the countess. "Don't +you know I can't sit like that?" + +And Dunyasha, with clenched teeth, without replying but with an +aggrieved look on her face, hastily got into the coach to rearrange +the seat. + +"Oh, those servants!" said the count, swaying his head. + +Efim, the old coachman, who was the only one the countess trusted to +drive her, sat perched up high on the box and did not so much as +glance round at what was going on behind him. From thirty years' +experience he knew it would be some time yet before the order, "Be +off, in God's name!" would be given him: and he knew that even when it +was said he would be stopped once or twice more while they sent back +to fetch something that had been forgotten, and even after that he +would again be stopped and the countess herself would lean out of +the window and beg him for the love of heaven to drive carefully +down the hill. He knew all this and therefore waited calmly for what +would happen, with more patience than the horses, especially the +near one, the chestnut Falcon, who was pawing the ground and +champing his bit. At last all were seated, the carriage steps were +folded and pulled up, the door was shut, somebody was sent for a +traveling case, and the countess leaned out and said what she had to +say. Then Efim deliberately doffed his hat and began crossing himself. +The postilion and all the other servants did the same. "Off, in +God's name!" said Efim, putting on his hat. "Start!" The postilion +started the horses, the off pole horse tugged at his collar, the +high springs creaked, and the body of the coach swayed. The footman +sprang onto the box of the moving coach which jolted as it passed +out of the yard onto the uneven roadway; the other vehicles jolted +in their turn, and the procession of carriages moved up the street. In +the carriages, the caleche, and the phaeton, all crossed themselves as +they passed the church opposite the house. Those who were to remain in +Moscow walked on either side of the vehicles seeing the travelers off. + +Rarely had Natasha experienced so joyful a feeling as now, sitting +in the carriage beside the countess and gazing at the slowly +receding walls of forsaken, agitated Moscow. Occasionally she leaned +out of the carriage window and looked back and then forward at the +long train of wounded in front of them. Almost at the head of the line +she could see the raised hood of Prince Andrew's caleche. She did +not know who was in it, but each time she looked at the procession her +eyes sought that caleche. She knew it was right in front. + +In Kudrino, from the Nikitski, Presnya, and Podnovinsk Streets +came several other trains of vehicles similar to the Rostovs', and +as they passed along the Sadovaya Street the carriages and carts +formed two rows abreast. + +As they were going round the Sukharev water tower Natasha, who was +inquisitively and alertly scrutinizing the people driving or walking +past, suddenly cried out in joyful surprise: + +"Dear me! Mamma, Sonya, look, it's he!" + +"Who? Who?" + +"Look! Yes, on my word, it's Bezukhov!" said Natasha, putting her +head out of the carriage and staring at a tall, stout man in a +coachman's long coat, who from his manner of walking and moving was +evidently a gentleman in disguise, and who was passing under the +arch of the Sukharev tower accompanied by a small, sallow-faced, +beardless old man in a frieze coat. + +"Yes, it really is Bezukhov in a coachman's coat, with a +queer-looking old boy. Really," said Natasha, "look, look!" + +"No, it's not he. How can you talk such nonsense?" + +"Mamma," screamed Natasha, "I'll stake my head it's he! I assure +you! Stop, stop!" she cried to the coachman. + +But the coachman could not stop, for from the Meshchanski Street +came more carts and carriages, and the Rostovs were being shouted at +to move on and not block the way. + +In fact, however, though now much farther off than before, the +Rostovs all saw Pierre--or someone extraordinarily like him--in a +coachman's coat, going down the street with head bent and a serious +face beside a small, beardless old man who looked like a footman. That +old man noticed a face thrust out of the carriage window gazing at +them, and respectfully touching Pierre's elbow said something to him +and pointed to the carriage. Pierre, evidently engrossed in thought, +could not at first understand him. At length when he had understood +and looked in the direction the old man indicated, he recognized +Natasha, and following his first impulse stepped instantly and rapidly +toward the coach. But having taken a dozen steps he seemed to remember +something and stopped. + +Natasha's face, leaning out of the window, beamed with quizzical +kindliness. + +"Peter Kirilovich, come here! We have recognized you! This is +wonderful!" she cried, holding out her hand to him. "What are you +doing? Why are you like this?" + +Pierre took her outstretched hand and kissed it awkwardly as he +walked along beside her while the coach still moved on. + +"What is the matter, Count?" asked the countess in a surprised and +commiserating tone. + +"What? What? Why? Don't ask me," said Pierre, and looked round at +Natasha whose radiant, happy expression--of which he was conscious +without looking at her--filled him with enchantment. + +"Are you remaining in Moscow, then?" + +Pierre hesitated. + +"In Moscow?" he said in a questioning tone. "Yes, in Moscow. +Goodby!" + +"Ah, if only I were a man? I'd certainly stay with you. How +splendid!" said Natasha. "Mamma, if you'll let me, I'll stay!" + +Pierre glanced absently at Natasha and was about to say something, +but the countess interrupted him. + +"You were at the battle, we heard." + +"Yes, I was," Pierre answered. "There will be another battle +tomorrow..." he began, but Natasha interrupted him. + +"But what is the matter with you, Count? You are not like +yourself...." + +"Oh, don't ask me, don't ask me! I don't know myself. Tomorrow... +But no! Good-by, good-by!" he muttered. "It's an awful time!" and +dropping behind the carriage he stepped onto the pavement. + +Natasha continued to lean out of the window for a long time, beaming +at him with her kindly, slightly quizzical, happy smile. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +For the last two days, ever since leaving home, Pierre had been +living in the empty house of his deceased benefactor, Bazdeev. This is +how it happened. + +When he woke up on the morning after his return to Moscow and his +interview with Count Rostopchin, he could not for some time make out +where he was and what was expected of him. When he was informed that +among others awaiting him in his reception room there was a +Frenchman who had brought a letter from his wife, the Countess Helene, +he felt suddenly overcome by that sense of confusion and +hopelessness to which he was apt to succumb. He felt that everything +was now at an end, all was in confusion and crumbling to pieces, +that nobody was right or wrong, the future held nothing, and there was +no escape from this position. Smiling unnaturally and muttering to +himself, he first sat down on the sofa in an attitude of despair, then +rose, went to the door of the reception room and peeped through the +crack, returned flourishing his arms, and took up a book. His +major-domo came in a second time to say that the Frenchman who had +brought the letter from the countess was very anxious to see him if +only for a minute, and that someone from Bazdeev's widow had called to +ask Pierre to take charge of her husband's books, as she herself was +leaving for the country. + +"Oh, yes, in a minute; wait... or no! No, of course... go and say +I will come directly," Pierre replied to the major-domo. + +But as soon as the man had left the room Pierre took up his hat +which was lying on the table and went out of his study by the other +door. There was no one in the passage. He went along the whole +length of this passage to the stairs and, frowning and rubbing his +forehead with both hands, went down as far as the first landing. The +hall porter was standing at the front door. From the landing where +Pierre stood there was a second staircase leading to the back +entrance. He went down that staircase and out into the yard. No one +had seen him. But there were some carriages waiting, and as soon as +Pierre stepped out of the gate the coachmen and the yard porter +noticed him and raised their caps to him. When he felt he was being +looked at he behaved like an ostrich which hides its head in a bush in +order not to be seen: he hung his head and quickening his pace went +down the street. + +Of all the affairs awaiting Pierre that day the sorting of Joseph +Bazdeev's books and papers appeared to him the most necessary. + +He hired the first cab he met and told the driver to go to the +Patriarch's Ponds, where the widow Bazdeev's house was. + +Continually turning round to look at the rows of loaded carts that +were making their way from all sides out of Moscow, and balancing +his bulky body so as not to slip out of the ramshackle old vehicle, +Pierre, experiencing the joyful feeling of a boy escaping from school, +began to talk to his driver. + +The man told him that arms were being distributed today at the +Kremlin and that tomorrow everyone would be sent out beyond the +Three Hills gates and a great battle would be fought there. + +Having reached the Patriarch's Ponds Pierre found the Bazdeevs' +house, where he had not been for a long time past. He went up to the +gate. Gerasim, that sallow beardless old man Pierre had seen at +Torzhok five years before with Joseph Bazdeev, came out in answer to +his knock. + +"At home?" asked Pierre. + +"Owing to the present state of things Sophia Danilovna has gone to +the Torzhok estate with the children, your excellency." + +"I will come in all the same, I have to look through the books," +said Pierre. + +"Be so good as to step in. Makar Alexeevich, the brother of my +late master--may the kingdom of heaven be his--has remained here, +but he is in a weak state as you know," said the old servant. + +Pierre knew that Makar Alexeevich was Joseph Bazdeev's half-insane +brother and a hard drinker. + +"Yes, yes, I know. Let us go in..." said Pierre and entered the +house. + +A tall, bald-headed old man with a red nose, wearing a dressing gown +and with galoshes on his bare feet, stood in the anteroom. On seeing +Pierre he muttered something angrily and went away along the passage. + +"He was a very clever man but has now grown quite feeble, as your +honor sees," said Gerasim. "Will you step into the study?" Pierre +nodded. "As it was sealed up so it has remained, but Sophia +Danilovna gave orders that if anyone should come from you they were to +have the books." + +Pierre went into that gloomy study which he had entered with such +trepidation in his benefactor's lifetime. The room, dusty and +untouched since the death of Joseph Bazdeev was now even gloomier. + +Gerasim opened one of the shutters and left the room on tiptoe. +Pierre went round the study, approached the cupboard in which the +manuscripts were kept, and took out what had once been one of the most +important, the holy of holies of the order. This was the authentic +Scotch Acts with Bazdeev's notes and explanations. He sat down at +the dusty writing table, and, having laid the manuscripts before +him, opened them out, closed them, finally pushed them away, and +resting his head on his hand sank into meditation. + +Gerasim looked cautiously into the study several times and saw +Pierre always sitting in the same attitude. + +More than two hours passed and Gerasim took the liberty of making +a slight noise at the door to attract his attention, but Pierre did +not hear him. + +"Is the cabman to be discharged, your honor?" + +"Oh yes!" said Pierre, rousing himself and rising hurriedly. "Look +here," he added, taking Gerasim by a button of his coat and looking +down at the old man with moist, shining, and ecstatic eyes, "I say, do +you know that there is going to be a battle tomorrow?" + +"We heard so," replied the man. + +"I beg you not to tell anyone who I am, and to do what I ask you." + +"Yes, your excellency," replied Gerasim. "Will you have something to +eat?" + +"No, but I want something else. I want peasant clothes and a +pistol," said Pierre, unexpectedly blushing. + +"Yes, your excellency," said Gerasim after thinking for a moment. + +All the rest of that day Pierre spent alone in his benefactor's +study, and Gerasim heard him pacing restlessly from one corner to +another and talking to himself. And he spent the night on a bed made +up for him there. + +Gerasim, being a servant who in his time had seen many strange +things, accepted Pierre's taking up his residence in the house without +surprise, and seemed pleased to have someone to wait on. That same +evening--without even asking himself what they were wanted for--he +procured a coachman's coat and cap for Pierre, and promised to get him +the pistol next day. Makar Alexeevich came twice that evening +shuffling along in his galoshes as far as the door and stopped and +looked ingratiatingly at Pierre. But as soon as Pierre turned toward +him he wrapped his dressing gown around him with a shamefaced and +angry look and hurried away. It was when Pierre (wearing the +coachman's coat which Gerasim had procured for him and had disinfected +by steam) was on his way with the old man to buy the pistol at the +Sukharev market that he met the Rostovs. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Kutuzov's order to retreat through Moscow to the Ryazan road was +issued at night on the first of September. + +The first troops started at once, and during the night they +marched slowly and steadily without hurry. At daybreak, however, those +nearing the town at the Dorogomilov bridge saw ahead of them masses of +soldiers crowding and hurrying across the bridge, ascending on the +opposite side and blocking the streets and alleys, while endless +masses of troops were bearing down on them from behind, and an +unreasoning hurry and alarm overcame them. They all rushed forward +to the bridge, onto it, and to the fords and the boats. Kutuzov +himself had driven round by side streets to the other side of Moscow. + +By ten o'clock in the morning of the second of September, only the +rear guard remained in the Dorogomilov suburb, where they had ample +room. The main army was on the other side of Moscow or beyond it. + +At that very time, at ten in the morning of the second of September, +Napoleon was standing among his troops on the Poklonny Hill looking at +the panorama spread out before him. From the twenty-sixth of August to +the second of September, that is from the battle of Borodino to the +entry of the French into Moscow, during the whole of that agitating, +memorable week, there had been the extraordinary autumn weather that +always comes as a surprise, when the sun hangs low and gives more heat +than in spring, when everything shines so brightly in the rare clear +atmosphere that the eyes smart, when the lungs are strengthened and +refreshed by inhaling the aromatic autumn air, when even the nights +are warm, and when in those dark warm nights, golden stars startle and +delight us continually by falling from the sky. + +At ten in the morning of the second of September this weather +still held. + +The brightness of the morning was magical. Moscow seen from the +Poklonny Hill lay spaciously spread out with her river, her gardens, +and her churches, and she seemed to be living her usual life, her +cupolas glittering like stars in the sunlight. + +The view of the strange city with its peculiar architecture, such as +he had never seen before, filled Napoleon with the rather envious +and uneasy curiosity men feel when they see an alien form of life that +has no knowledge of them. This city was evidently living with the full +force of its own life. By the indefinite signs which, even at a +distance, distinguish a living body from a dead one, Napoleon from the +Poklonny Hill perceived the throb of life in the town and felt, as +it were, the breathing of that great and beautiful body. + +Every Russian looking at Moscow feels her to be a mother; every +foreigner who sees her, even if ignorant of her significance as the +mother city, must feel her feminine character, and Napoleon felt it. + +"Cette ville asiatique aux innombrables eglises, Moscou la sainte. +La voila done enfin, cette fameuse ville! Il etait temps,"* said he, +and dismounting he ordered a plan of Moscow to be spread out before +him, and summoned Lelorgne d'Ideville, the interpreter. + + +*"That Asiatic city of the innumerable churches, holy Moscow! Here +it is then at last, that famous city. It was high time." + + +"A town captured by the enemy is like a maid who has lost her +honor," thought he (he had said so to Tuchkov at Smolensk). From +that point of view he gazed at the Oriental beauty he had not seen +before. It seemed strange to him that his long-felt wish, which had +seemed unattainable, had at last been realized. In the clear morning +light he gazed now at the city and now at the plan, considering its +details, and the assurance of possessing it agitated and awed him. + +"But could it be otherwise?" he thought. "Here is this capital at my +feet. Where is Alexander now, and of what is he thinking? A strange, +beautiful, and majestic city; and a strange and majestic moment! In +what light must I appear to them!" thought he, thinking of his troops. +"Here she is, the reward for all those fainthearted men," he +reflected, glancing at those near him and at the troops who were +approaching and forming up. "One word from me, one movement of my +hand, and that ancient capital of the Tsars would perish. But my +clemency is always ready to descend upon the vanquished. I must be +magnanimous and truly great. But no, it can't be true that I am in +Moscow," he suddenly thought. "Yet here she is lying at my feet, +with her golden domes and crosses scintillating and twinkling in the +sunshine. But I shall spare her. On the ancient monuments of barbarism +and despotism I will inscribe great words of justice and mercy.... +It is just this which Alexander will feel most painfully, I know him." +(It seemed to Napoleon that the chief import of what was taking +place lay in the personal struggle between himself and Alexander.) +"From the height of the Kremlin--yes, there is the Kremlin, yes--I +will give them just laws; I will teach them the meaning of true +civilization, I will make generations of boyars remember their +conqueror with love. I will tell the deputation that I did not, and do +not, desire war, that I have waged war only against the false policy +of their court; that I love and respect Alexander and that in Moscow I +will accept terms of peace worthy of myself and of my people. I do not +wish to utilize the fortunes of war to humiliate an honored monarch. +'Boyars,' I will say to them, 'I do not desire war, I desire the peace +and welfare of all my subjects.' However, I know their presence will +inspire me, and I shall speak to them as I always do: clearly, +impressively, and majestically. But can it be true that I am in +Moscow? Yes, there she lies." + +"Qu'on m'amene les boyars,"* said he to his suite. + + +*"Bring the boyars to me." + + +A general with a brilliant suite galloped off at once to fetch the +boyars. + +Two hours passed. Napoleon had lunched and was again standing in the +same place on the Poklonny Hill awaiting the deputation. His speech to +the boyars had already taken definite shape in his imagination. That +speech was full of dignity and greatness as Napoleon understood it. + +He was himself carried away by the tone of magnanimity he intended +to adopt toward Moscow. In his imagination he appointed days for +assemblies at the palace of the Tsars, at which Russian notables and +his own would mingle. He mentally appointed a governor, one who +would win the hearts of the people. Having learned that there were +many charitable institutions in Moscow he mentally decided that he +would shower favors on them all. He thought that, as in Africa he +had to put on a burnoose and sit in a mosque, so in Moscow he must +be beneficent like the Tsars. And in order finally to touch the hearts +of the Russians--and being like all Frenchmen unable to imagine +anything sentimental without a reference to ma chere, ma tendre, ma +pauvre mere* --he decided that he would place an inscription on all +these establishments in large letters: "This establishment is +dedicated to my dear mother." Or no, it should be simply: Maison de ma +Mere,*[2] he concluded. "But am I really in Moscow? Yes, here it +lies before me, but why is the deputation from the city so long in +appearing?" he wondered. + + +*"My dear, my tender, my poor mother." + +*[2] "House of my Mother." + + +Meanwhile an agitated consultation was being carried on in +whispers among his generals and marshals at the rear of his suite. +Those sent to fetch the deputation had returned with the news that +Moscow was empty, that everyone had left it. The faces of those who +were not conferring together were pale and perturbed. They were not +alarmed by the fact that Moscow had been abandoned by its +inhabitants (grave as that fact seemed), but by the question how to +tell the Emperor--without putting him in the terrible position of +appearing ridiculous--that he had been awaiting the boyars so long +in vain: that there were drunken mobs left in Moscow but no one +else. Some said that a deputation of some sort must be scraped +together, others disputed that opinion and maintained that the Emperor +should first be carefully and skillfully prepared, and then told the +truth. + +"He will have to be told, all the same," said some gentlemen of +the suite. "But, gentlemen..." + +The position was the more awkward because the Emperor, meditating +upon his magnanimous plans, was pacing patiently up and down before +the outspread map, occasionally glancing along the road to Moscow from +under his lifted hand with a bright and proud smile. + +"But it's impossible..." declared the gentlemen of the suite, +shrugging their shoulders but not venturing to utter the implied word- +le ridicule... + +At last the Emperor, tired of futile expectation, his actor's +instinct suggesting to him that the sublime moment having been too +long drawn out was beginning to lose its sublimity, gave a sign with +his hand. A single report of a signaling gun followed, and the troops, +who were already spread out on different sides of Moscow, moved into +the city through Tver, Kaluga, and Dorogomilov gates. Faster and +faster, vying with one another, they moved at the double or at a trot, +vanishing amid the clouds of dust they raised and making the air +ring with a deafening roar of mingling shouts. + +Drawn on by the movement of his troops Napoleon rode with them as +far as the Dorogomilov gate, but there again stopped and, +dismounting from his horse, paced for a long time by the +Kammer-Kollezski rampart, awaiting the deputation. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +Meanwhile Moscow was empty. There were still people in it, perhaps a +fiftieth part of its former inhabitants had remained, but it was +empty. It was empty in the sense that a dying queenless hive is empty. + +In a queenless hive no life is left though to a superficial glance +it seems as much alive as other hives. + +The bees circle round a queenless hive in the hot beams of the +midday sun as gaily as around the living hives; from a distance it +smells of honey like the others, and bees fly in and out in the same +way. But one has only to observe that hive to realize that there is no +longer any life in it. The bees do not fly in the same way, the +smell and the sound that meet the beekeeper are not the same. To the +beekeeper's tap on the wall of the sick hive, instead of the former +instant unanimous humming of tens of thousands of bees with their +abdomens threateningly compressed, and producing by the rapid +vibration of their wings an aerial living sound, the only reply is a +disconnected buzzing from different parts of the deserted hive. From +the alighting board, instead of the former spirituous fragrant smell +of honey and venom, and the warm whiffs of crowded life, comes an odor +of emptiness and decay mingling with the smell of honey. There are +no longer sentinels sounding the alarm with their abdomens raised, and +ready to die in defense of the hive. There is no longer the measured +quiet sound of throbbing activity, like the sound of boiling water, +but diverse discordant sounds of disorder. In and out of the hive long +black robber bees smeared with honey fly timidly and shiftily. They do +not sting, but crawl away from danger. Formerly only bees laden with +honey flew into the hive, and they flew out empty; now they fly out +laden. The beekeeper opens the lower part of the hive and peers in. +Instead of black, glossy bees--tamed by toil, clinging to one +another's legs and drawing out the wax, with a ceaseless hum of labor- +that used to hang in long clusters down to the floor of the hive, +drowsy shriveled bees crawl about separately in various directions +on the floor and walls of the hive. Instead of a neatly glued floor, +swept by the bees with the fanning of their wings, there is a floor +littered with bits of wax, excrement, dying bees scarcely moving their +legs, and dead ones that have not been cleared away. + +The beekeeper opens the upper part of the hive and examines the +super. Instead of serried rows of bees sealing up every gap in the +combs and keeping the brood warm, he sees the skillful complex +structures of the combs, but no longer in their former state of +purity. All is neglected and foul. Black robber bees are swiftly and +stealthily prowling about the combs, and the short home bees, +shriveled and listless as if they were old, creep slowly about without +trying to hinder the robbers, having lost all motive and all sense +of life. Drones, bumblebees, wasps, and butterflies knock awkwardly +against the walls of the hive in their flight. Here and there among +the cells containing dead brood and honey an angry buzzing can +sometimes be heard. Here and there a couple of bees, by force of habit +and custom cleaning out the brood cells, with efforts beyond their +strength laboriously drag away a dead bee or bumblebee without knowing +why they do it. In another corner two old bees are languidly fighting, +or cleaning themselves, or feeding one another, without themselves +knowing whether they do it with friendly or hostile intent. In a third +place a crowd of bees, crushing one another, attack some victim and +fight and smother it, and the victim, enfeebled or killed, drops +from above slowly and lightly as a feather, among the heap of corpses. +The keeper opens the two center partitions to examine the brood cells. +In place of the former close dark circles formed by thousands of +bees sitting back to back and guarding the high mystery of generation, +he sees hundreds of dull, listless, and sleepy shells of bees. They +have almost all died unawares, sitting in the sanctuary they had +guarded and which is now no more. They reek of decay and death. Only a +few of them still move, rise, and feebly fly to settle on the +enemy's hand, lacking the spirit to die stinging him; the rest are +dead and fall as lightly as fish scales. The beekeeper closes the +hive, chalks a mark on it, and when he has time tears out its contents +and burns it clean. + +So in the same way Moscow was empty when Napoleon, weary, uneasy, +and morose, paced up and down in front of the Kammer-Kollezski +rampart, awaiting what to his mind was a necessary, if but formal, +observance of the proprieties--a deputation. + +In various corners of Moscow there still remained a few people +aimlessly moving about, following their old habits and hardly aware of +what they were doing. + +When with due circumspection Napoleon was informed that Moscow was +empty, he looked angrily at his informant, turned away, and silently +continued to walk to and fro. + +"My carriage!" he said. + +He took his seat beside the aide-de-camp on duty and drove into +the suburb. "Moscow deserted!" he said to himself. "What an incredible +event!" + +He did not drive into the town, but put up at an inn in the +Dorogomilov suburb. + +The coup de theatre had not come off. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +The Russian troops were passing through Moscow from two o'clock at +night till two in the afternoon and bore away with them the wounded +and the last of the inhabitants who were leaving. + +The greatest crush during the movement of the troops took place at +the Stone, Moskva, and Yauza bridges. + +While the troops, dividing into two parts when passing around the +Kremlin, were thronging the Moskva and the Stone bridges, a great many +soldiers, taking advantage of the stoppage and congestion, turned back +from the bridges and slipped stealthily and silently past the church +of Vasili the Beatified and under the Borovitski gate, back up the +hill to the Red Square where some instinct told them they could easily +take things not belonging to them. Crowds of the kind seen at cheap +sales filled all the passages and alleys of the Bazaar. But there were +no dealers with voices of ingratiating affability inviting customers +to enter; there were no hawkers, nor the usual motley crowd of +female purchasers--but only soldiers, in uniforms and overcoats though +without muskets, entering the Bazaar empty-handed and silently +making their way out through its passages with bundles. Tradesmen +and their assistants (of whom there were but few) moved about among +the soldiers quite bewildered. They unlocked their shops and locked +them up again, and themselves carried goods away with the help their +assistants. On the square in front of the Bazaar were drummers beating +the muster call. But the roll of the drums did not make the looting +soldiers run in the direction of the drum as formerly, but made +them, on the contrary, run farther away. Among the soldiers in the +shops and passages some men were to be seen in gray coats, with +closely shaven heads. Two officers, one with a scarf over his +uniform and mounted on a lean, dark-gray horse, the other in an +overcoat and on foot, stood at the corner of Ilyinka Street, +talking. A third officer galloped up to them. + +"The general orders them all to be driven out at once, without fail. +This is outrageous! Half the men have dispersed." + +"Where are you off to?... Where?..." he shouted to three infantrymen +without muskets who, holding up the skirts of their overcoats, were +slipping past him into the Bazaar passage. "Stop, you rascals!" + +"But how are you going to stop them?" replied another officer. +"There is no getting them together. The army should push on before the +rest bolt, that's all!" + +"How can one push on? They are stuck there, wedged on the bridge, +and don't move. Shouldn't we put a cordon round to prevent the rest +from running away?" + +"Come, go in there and drive them out!" shouted the senior officer. + +The officer in the scarf dismounted, called up a drummer, and went +with him into the arcade. Some soldiers started running away in a +group. A shopkeeper with red pimples on his cheeks near the nose, +and a calm, persistent, calculating expression on his plump face, +hurriedly and ostentatiously approached the officer, swinging his +arms. + +"Your honor!" said he. "Be so good as to protect us! We won't grudge +trifles, you are welcome to anything--we shall be delighted! +Pray!... I'll fetch a piece of cloth at once for such an honorable +gentleman, or even two pieces with pleasure. For we feel how it is; +but what's all this--sheer robbery! If you please, could not guards be +placed if only to let us close the shop...." + +Several shopkeepers crowded round the officer. + +"Eh, what twaddle!" said one of them, a thin, stern-looking man. +"When one's head is gone one doesn't weep for one's hair! Take what +any of you like!" And flourishing his arm energetically he turned +sideways to the officer. + +"It's all very well for you, Ivan Sidorych, to talk," said the first +tradesman angrily. "Please step inside, your honor!" + +"Talk indeed!" cried the thin one. "In my three shops here I have +a hundred thousand rubles' worth of goods. Can they be saved when +the army has gone? Eh, what people! 'Against God's might our hands +can't fight.'" + +"Come inside, your honor!" repeated the tradesman, bowing. + +The officer stood perplexed and his face showed indecision. + +"It's not my business!" he exclaimed, and strode on quickly down one +of the passages. + +From one open shop came the sound of blows and vituperation, and +just as the officer came up to it a man in a gray coat with a shaven +head was flung out violently. + +This man, bent double, rushed past the tradesman and the officer. +The officer pounced on the soldiers who were in the shops, but at that +moment fearful screams reached them from the huge crowd on the +Moskva bridge and the officer ran out into the square. + +"What is it? What is it?" he asked, but his comrade was already +galloping off past Vasili the Beatified in the direction from which +the screams came. + +The officer mounted his horse and rode after him. When he reached +the bridge he saw two unlimbered guns, the infantry crossing the +bridge, several overturned carts, and frightened and laughing faces +among the troops. Beside the cannon a cart was standing to which two +horses were harnessed. Four borzois with collars were pressing close +to the wheels. The cart was loaded high, and at the very top, beside a +child's chair with its legs in the air, sat a peasant woman uttering +piercing and desperate shrieks. He was told by his fellow officers +that the screams of the crowd and the shrieks of the woman were due to +the fact that General Ermolov, coming up to the crowd and learning +that soldiers were dispersing among the shops while crowds of +civilians blocked the bridge, had ordered two guns to be unlimbered +and made a show of firing at the bridge. The crowd, crushing one +another, upsetting carts, and shouting and squeezing desperately, +had cleared off the bridge and the troops were now moving forward. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Meanwhile, the city itself was deserted. There was hardly anyone +in the streets. The gates and shops were all closed, only here and +there round the taverns solitary shouts or drunken songs could be +heard. Nobody drove through the streets and footsteps were rarely +heard. The Povarskaya was quite still and deserted. The huge courtyard +of the Rostovs' house was littered with wisps of hay and with dung +from the horses, and not a soul was to be seen there. In the great +drawing room of the house, which had been left with all it +contained, were two people. They were the yard porter Ignat, and the +page boy Mishka, Vasilich's grandson who had stayed in Moscow with his +grandfather. Mishka had opened the clavichord and was strumming on +it with one finger. The yard porter, his arms akimbo, stood smiling +with satisfaction before the large mirror. + +"Isn't it fine, eh, Uncle Ignat?" said the boy, suddenly beginning +to strike the keyboard with both hands. + +"Only fancy!" answered Ignat, surprised at the broadening grin on +his face in the mirror. + +"Impudence! Impudence!" they heard behind them the voice of Mavra +Kuzminichna who had entered silently. "How he's grinning, the fat mug! +Is that what you're here for? Nothing's cleared away down there and +Vasilich is worn out. Just you wait a bit!" + +Ignat left off smiling, adjusted his belt, and went out of the +room with meekly downcast eyes. + +"Aunt, I did it gently," said the boy. + +"I'll give you something gently, you monkey you!" cried Mavra +Kuzminichna, raising her arm threateningly. "Go and get the samovar to +boil for your grandfather." + +Mavra Kuzminichna flicked the dust off the clavichord and closed it, +and with a deep sigh left the drawing room and locked its main door. + +Going out into the yard she paused to consider where she should go +next--to drink tea in the servants' wing with Vasilich, or into the +storeroom to put away what still lay about. + +She heard the sound of quick footsteps in the quiet street. +Someone stopped at the gate, and the latch rattled as someone tried to +open it. Mavra Kuzminichna went to the gate. + +"Who do you want?" + +"The count--Count Ilya Andreevich Rostov." + +"And who are you?" + +"An officer, I have to see him," came the reply in a pleasant, +well-bred Russian voice. + +Mavra Kuzminichna opened the gate and an officer of eighteen, with +the round face of a Rostov, entered the yard. + +"They have gone away, sir. Went away yesterday at vespertime," +said Mavra Kuzminichna cordially. + +The young officer standing in the gateway, as if hesitating +whether to enter or not, clicked his tongue. + +"Ah, how annoying!" he muttered. "I should have come yesterday.... +Ah, what a pity." + +Meanwhile, Mavra Kuzminichna was attentively and sympathetically +examining the familiar Rostov features of the young man's face, his +tattered coat and trodden-down boots. + +"What did you want to see the count for?" she asked. + +"Oh well... it can't be helped!" said he in a tone of vexation and +placed his hand on the gate as if to leave. + +He again paused in indecision. + +"You see," he suddenly said, "I am a kinsman of the count's and he +has been very kind to me. As you see" (he glanced with an amused air +and good-natured smile at his coat and boots) "my things are worn +out and I have no money, so I was going to ask the count..." + +Mavra Kuzminichna did not let him finish. + +"Just wait a minute, sir. One little moment," said she. + +And as soon as the officer let go of the gate handle she turned and, +hurrying away on her old legs, went through the back yard to the +servants' quarters. + +While Mavra Kuzminichna was running to her room the officer walked +about the yard gazing at his worn-out boots with lowered head and a +faint smile on his lips. "What a pity I've missed Uncle! What a nice +old woman! Where has she run off to? And how am I to find the +nearest way to overtake my regiment, which must by now be getting near +the Rogozhski gate?" thought he. Just then Mavra Kuzminichna +appeared from behind the corner of the house with a frightened yet +resolute look, carrying a rolled-up check kerchief in her hand. +While still a few steps from the officer she unfolded the kerchief and +took out of it a white twenty-five-ruble assignat and hastily handed +it to him. + +"If his excellency had been at home, as a kinsman he would of +course... but as it is..." + +Mavra Kuzminichna grew abashed and confused. The officer did not +decline, but took the note quietly and thanked her. + +"If the count had been at home..." Mavra Kuzminichna went on +apologetically. "Christ be with you, sir! May God preserve you!" +said she, bowing as she saw him out. + +Swaying his head and smiling as if amused at himself, the officer +ran almost at a trot through the deserted streets toward the Yauza +bridge to overtake his regiment. + +But Mavra Kuzminichna stood at the closed gate for some time with +moist eyes, pensively swaying her head and feeling an unexpected +flow of motherly tenderness and pity for the unknown young officer. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +From an unfinished house on the Varvarka, the ground floor of +which was a dramshop, came drunken shouts and songs. On benches +round the tables in a dirty little room sat some ten factory hands. +Tipsy and perspiring, with dim eyes and wide-open mouths, they were +all laboriously singing some song or other. They were singing +discordantly, arduously, and with great effort, evidently not +because they wished to sing, but because they wanted to show they were +drunk and on a spree. One, a tall, fair-haired lad in a clean blue +coat, was standing over the others. His face with its fine straight +nose would have been handsome had it not been for his thin, +compressed, twitching lips and dull, gloomy, fixed eyes. Evidently +possessed by some idea, he stood over those who were singing, and +solemnly and jerkily flourished above their heads his white arm with +the sleeve turned up to the elbow, trying unnaturally to spread out +his dirty fingers. The sleeve of his coat kept slipping down and he +always carefully rolled it up again with his left hand, as if it +were most important that the sinewy white arm he was flourishing +should be bare. In the midst of the song cries were heard, and +fighting and blows in the passage and porch. The tall lad waved his +arm. + +"Stop it!" he exclaimed peremptorily. "There's a fight, lads!" +And, still rolling up his sleeve, he went out to the porch. + +The factory hands followed him. These men, who under the +leadership of the tall lad were drinking in the dramshop that morning, +had brought the publican some skins from the factory and for this +had had drink served them. The blacksmiths from a neighboring +smithy, hearing the sounds of revelry in the tavern and supposing it +to have been broken into, wished to force their way in too and a fight +in the porch had resulted. + +The publican was fighting one of the smiths at the door, and when +the workmen came out the smith, wrenching himself free from the tavern +keeper, fell face downward on the pavement. + +Another smith tried to enter the doorway, pressing against the +publican with his chest. + +The lad with the turned-up sleeve gave the smith a blow in the +face and cried wildly: "They're fighting us, lads!" + +At that moment the first smith got up and, scratching his bruised +face to make it bleed, shouted in a tearful voice: "Police! Murder!... +They've killed a man, lads!" + +"Oh, gracious me, a man beaten to death--killed!..." screamed a +woman coming out of a gate close by. + +A crowd gathered round the bloodstained smith. + +"Haven't you robbed people enough--taking their last shirts?" said a +voice addressing the publican. "What have you killed a man for, you +thief?" + +The tall lad, standing in the porch, turned his bleared eyes from +the publican to the smith and back again as if considering whom he +ought to fight now. + +"Murderer!" he shouted suddenly to the publican. "Bind him, lads!" + +"I daresay you would like to bind me!" shouted the publican, pushing +away the men advancing on him, and snatching his cap from his head +he flung it on the ground. + +As if this action had some mysterious and menacing significance, the +workmen surrounding the publican paused in indecision. + +"I know the law very well, mates! I'll take the matter to the +captain of police. You think I won't get to him? Robbery is not +permitted to anybody now a days!" shouted the publican, picking up his +cap. + +"Come along then! Come along then!" the publican and the tall +young fellow repeated one after the other, and they moved up the +street together. + +The bloodstained smith went beside them. The factory hands and +others followed behind, talking and shouting. + +At the corner of the Moroseyka, opposite a large house with closed +shutters and bearing a bootmaker's signboard, stood a score of thin, +worn-out, gloomy-faced bootmakers, wearing overalls and long +tattered coats. + +"He should pay folks off properly," a thin workingman, with frowning +brows and a straggly beard, was saying. + +"But he's sucked our blood and now he thinks he's quit of us. He's +been misleading us all the week and now that he's brought us to this +pass he's made off." + +On seeing the crowd and the bloodstained man the workman ceased +speaking, and with eager curiosity all the bootmakers joined the +moving crowd. + +"Where are all the folks going?" + +"Why, to the police, of course!" + +"I say, is it true that we have been beaten?" "And what did you +think? Look what folks are saying." + +Questions and answers were heard. The publican, taking advantage +of the increased crowd, dropped behind and returned to his tavern. + +The tall youth, not noticing the disappearance of his foe, waved his +bare arm and went on talking incessantly, attracting general attention +to himself. It was around him that the people chiefly crowded, +expecting answers from him to the questions that occupied all their +minds. + +"He must keep order, keep the law, that's what the government is +there for. Am I not right, good Christians?" said the tall youth, with +a scarcely perceptible smile. "He thinks there's no government! How +can one do without government? Or else there would be plenty who'd rob +us." + +"Why talk nonsense?" rejoined voices in the crowd. "Will they give +up Moscow like this? They told you that for fun, and you believed +it! Aren't there plenty of troops on the march? Let him in, indeed! +That's what the government is for. You'd better listen to what +people are saying," said some of the mob pointing to the tall youth. + +By the wall of China-Town a smaller group of people were gathered +round a man in a frieze coat who held a paper in his hand. + +"An ukase, they are reading an ukase! Reading an ukase!" cried +voices in the crowd, and the people rushed toward the reader. + +The man in the frieze coat was reading the broadsheet of August 31 +When the crowd collected round him he seemed confused, but at the +demand of the tall lad who had pushed his way up to him, he began in a +rather tremulous voice to read the sheet from the beginning. + +"Early tomorrow I shall go to his Serene Highness," he read +("Sirin Highness," said the tall fellow with a triumphant smile on his +lips and a frown on his brow), "to consult with him to act, and to aid +the army to exterminate these scoundrels. We too will take part..." +the reader went on, and then paused ("Do you see," shouted the youth +victoriously, "he's going to clear up the whole affair for +you...."), "in destroying them, and will send these visitors to the +devil. I will come back to dinner, and we'll set to work. We will +do, completely do, and undo these scoundrels." + +The last words were read out in the midst of complete silence. The +tall lad hung his head gloomily. It was evident that no one had +understood the last part. In particular, the words "I will come back +to dinner," evidently displeased both reader and audience. The +people's minds were tuned to a high pitch and this was too simple +and needlessly comprehensible--it was what any one of them might +have said and therefore was what an ukase emanating from the highest +authority should not say. + +They all stood despondent and silent. The tall youth moved his +lips and swayed from side to side. + +"We should ask him... that's he himself?"... "Yes, ask him +indeed!... Why not? He'll explain"... voices in the rear of the +crowd were suddenly heard saying, and the general attention turned +to the police superintendent's trap which drove into the square +attended by two mounted dragoons. + +The superintendent of police, who had that morning by Count +Rostopchin's orders to burn the barges and had in connection with that +matter acquired a large sum of money which was at that moment in his +pocket, on seeing a crowd bearing down upon him told his coachman to +stop. + +"What people are these?" he shouted to the men, who were moving +singly and timidly in the direction of his trap. + +"What people are these?" he shouted again, receiving no answer. + +"Your honor..." replied the shopman in the frieze coat, "your honor, +in accord with the proclamation of his highest excellency the count, +they desire to serve, not sparing their lives, and it is not any +kind of riot, but as his highest excellence said..." + +"The count has not left, he is here, and an order will be issued +concerning you," said the superintendent of police. "Go on!" he +ordered his coachman. + +The crowd halted, pressing around those who had heard what the +superintendent had said, and looking at the departing trap. + +The superintendent of police turned round at that moment with a +scared look, said something to his coachman, and his horses +increased their speed. + +"It's a fraud, lads! Lead the way to him, himself!" shouted the tall +youth. "Don't let him go, lads! Let him answer us! Keep him!" +shouted different people and the people dashed in pursuit of the trap. + +Following the superintendent of police and talking loudly the +crowd went in the direction of the Lubyanka Street. + +"There now, the gentry and merchants have gone away and left us to +perish. Do they think we're dogs?" voices in the crowd were heard +saying more and more frequently. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +On the evening of the first of September, after his interview with +Kutuzov, Count Rostopchin had returned to Moscow mortified and +offended because he had not been invited to attend the council of war, +and because Kutuzov had paid no attention to his offer to take part in +the defense of the city; amazed also at the novel outlook revealed +to him at the camp, which treated the tranquillity of the capital +and its patriotic fervor as not merely secondary but quite +irrelevant and unimportant matters. Distressed, offended, and +surprised by all this, Rostopchin had returned to Moscow. After supper +he lay down on a sofa without undressing, and was awakened soon +after midnight by a courier bringing him a letter from Kutuzov. This +letter requested the count to send police officers to guide the troops +through the town, as the army was retreating to the Ryazan road beyond +Moscow. This was not news to Rostopchin. He had known that Moscow +would be abandoned not merely since his interview the previous day +with Kutuzov on the Poklonny Hill but ever since the battle of +Borodino, for all the generals who came to Moscow after that battle +had said unanimously that it was impossible to fight another battle, +and since then the government property had been removed every night, +and half the inhabitants had left the city with Rostopchin's own +permission. Yet all the same this information astonished and irritated +the count, coming as it did in the form of a simple note with an order +from Kutuzov, and received at night, breaking in on his beauty sleep. + +When later on in his memoirs Count Rostopchin explained his +actions at this time, he repeatedly says that he was then actuated +by two important considerations: to maintain tranquillity in Moscow +and expedite the departure of the inhabitants. If one accepts this +twofold aim all Rostopchin's actions appear irreproachable. "Why +were the holy relics, the arms, ammunition, gunpowder, and stores of +corn not removed? Why were thousands of inhabitants deceived into +believing that Moscow would not be given up--and thereby ruined?" +"To presence the tranquillity of the city," explains Count Rostopchin. +"Why were bundles of useless papers from the government offices, and +Leppich's balloon and other articles removed?" "To leave the town +empty," explains Count Rostopchin. One need only admit that public +tranquillity is in danger and any action finds a justification. + +All the horrors of the reign of terror were based only on solicitude +for public tranquillity. + +On what, then, was Count Rostopchin's fear for the tranquillity of +Moscow based in 1812? What reason was there for assuming any +probability of an uprising in the city? The inhabitants were leaving +it and the retreating troops were filling it. Why should that cause +the masses to riot? + +Neither in Moscow nor anywhere in Russia did anything resembling +an insurrection ever occur when the enemy entered a town. More than +ten thousand people were still in Moscow on the first and second of +September, and except for a mob in the governor's courtyard, assembled +there at his bidding, nothing happened. It is obvious that there would +have been even less reason to expect a disturbance among the people if +after the battle of Borodino, when the surrender of Moscow became +certain or at least probable, Rostopchin instead of exciting the +people by distributing arms and broadsheets had taken steps to +remove all the holy relics, the gunpowder, munitions, and money, and +had told the population plainly that the town would be abandoned. + +Rostopchin, though he had patriotic sentiments, was a sanguine and +impulsive man who had always moved in the highest administrative +circles and had no understanding at all of the people he supposed +himself to be guiding. Ever since the enemy's entry into Smolensk he +had in imagination been playing the role of director of the popular +feeling of "the heart of Russia." Not only did it seem to him (as to +all administrators) that he controlled the external actions of +Moscow's inhabitants, but he also thought he controlled their mental +attitude by means of his broadsheets and posters, written in a +coarse tone which the people despise in their own class and do not +understand from those in authority. Rostopchin was so pleased with the +fine role of leader of popular feeling, and had grown so used to it, +that the necessity of relinquishing that role and abandoning Moscow +without any heroic display took him unawares and he suddenly felt +the ground slip away from under his feet, so that he positively did +not know what to do. Though he knew it was coming, he did not till the +last moment wholeheartedly believe that Moscow would be abandoned, and +did not prepare for it. The inhabitants left against his wishes. If +the government offices were removed, this was only done on the +demand of officials to whom the count yielded reluctantly. He was +absorbed in the role he had created for himself. As is often the +case with those gifted with an ardent imagination, though he had +long known that Moscow would be abandoned he knew it only with his +intellect, he did not believe it in his heart and did not adapt +himself mentally to this new position of affairs. + +All his painstaking and energetic activity (in how far it was useful +and had any effect on the people is another question) had been +simply directed toward arousing in the masses his own feeling of +patriotic hatred of the French. + +But when events assumed their true historical character, when +expressing hatred for the French in words proved insufficient, when it +was not even possible to express that hatred by fighting a battle, +when self-confidence was of no avail in relation to the one question +before Moscow, when the whole population streamed out of Moscow as one +man, abandoning their belongings and proving by that negative action +all the depth of their national feeling, then the role chosen by +Rostopchin suddenly appeared senseless. He unexpectedly felt himself +ridiculous, weak, and alone, with no ground to stand on. + +When, awakened from his sleep, he received that cold, peremptory +note from Kutuzov, he felt the more irritated the more he felt himself +to blame. All that he had been specially put in charge of, the state +property which he should have removed, was still in Moscow and it +was no longer possible to take the whole of it away. + +"Who is to blame for it? Who has let things come to such a pass?" he +ruminated. "Not I, of course. I had everything ready. I had Moscow +firmly in hand. And this is what they have let it come to! Villains! +Traitors!" he thought, without clearly defining who the villains and +traitors were, but feeling it necessary to hate those traitors whoever +they might be who were to blame for the false and ridiculous +position in which he found himself. + +All that night Count Rostopchin issued orders, for which people came +to him from all parts of Moscow. Those about him had never seen the +count so morose and irritable. + +"Your excellency, the Director of the Registrar's Department has +sent for instructions... From the Consistory, from the Senate, from +the University, from the Foundling Hospital, the Suffragan has sent... +asking for information.... What are your orders about the Fire +Brigade? From the governor of the prison... from the superintendent of +the lunatic asylum..." All night long such announcements were +continually being received by the count. + +To all these inquiries he gave brief and angry replies indicating +that orders from him were not now needed, that the whole affair, +carefully prepared by him, had now been ruined by somebody, and that +that somebody would have to bear the whole responsibility for all that +might happen. + +"Oh, tell that blockhead," he said in reply to the question from the +Registrar's Department, "that he should remain to guard his documents. +Now why are you asking silly questions about the Fire Brigade? They +have horses, let them be off to Vladimir, and not leave them to the +French." + +"Your excellency, the superintendent of the lunatic asylum has come: +what are your commands?" + +"My commands? Let them go away, that's all.... And let the +lunatics out into the town. When lunatics command our armies God +evidently means these other madmen to be free." + +In reply to an inquiry about the convicts in the prison, Count +Rostopchin shouted angrily at the governor: + +"Do you expect me to give you two battalions--which we have not got- +for a convoy? Release them, that's all about it!" + +"Your excellency, there are some political prisoners, Meshkov, +Vereshchagin..." + +"Vereshchagin! Hasn't he been hanged yet?" shouted Rostopchin. +"Bring him to me!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +Toward nine o'clock in the morning, when the troops were already +moving through Moscow, nobody came to the count any more for +instructions. Those who were able to get away were going of their +own accord, those who remained behind decided for themselves what they +must do. + +The count ordered his carriage that he might drive to Sokolniki, and +sat in his study with folded hands, morose, sallow, and taciturn. + +In quiet and untroubled times it seems to every administrator that +it is only by his efforts that the whole population under his rule +is kept going, and in this consciousness of being indispensable +every administrator finds the chief reward of his labor and efforts. +While the sea of history remains calm the ruler-administrator in his +frail bark, holding on with a boat hook to the ship of the people +and himself moving, naturally imagines that his efforts move the +ship he is holding on to. But as soon as a storm arises and the sea +begins to heave and the ship to move, such a delusion is no longer +possible. The ship moves independently with its own enormous motion, +the boat hook no longer reaches the moving vessel, and suddenly the +administrator, instead of appearing a ruler and a source of power, +becomes an insignificant, useless, feeble man. + +Rostopchin felt this, and it was this which exasperated him. + +The superintendent of police, whom the crowd had stopped, went in to +see him at the same time as an adjutant who informed the count that +the horses were harnessed. They were both pale, and the superintendent +of police, after reporting that he had executed the instructions he +had received, informed the count that an immense crowd had collected +in the courtyard and wished to see him. + +Without saying a word Rostopchin rose and walked hastily to his +light, luxurious drawing room, went to the balcony door, took hold +of the handle, let it go again, and went to the window from which he +had a better view of the whole crowd. The tall lad was standing in +front, flourishing his arm and saying something with a stern look. The +blood stained smith stood beside him with a gloomy face. A drone of +voices was audible through the closed window. + +"Is my carriage ready?" asked Rostopchin, stepping back from the +window. + +"It is, your excellency," replied the adjutant. + +Rostopchin went again to the balcony door. + +"But what do they want?" he asked the superintendent of police. + +"Your excellency, they say they have got ready, according to your +orders, to go against the French, and they shouted something about +treachery. But it is a turbulent crowd, your excellency--I hardly +managed to get away from it. Your excellency, I venture to suggest..." + +"You may go. I don't need you to tell me what to do!" exclaimed +Rostopchin angrily. + +He stood by the balcony door looking at the crowd. + +"This is what they have done with Russia! This is what they have +done with me!" thought he, full of an irrepressible fury that welled +up within him against the someone to whom what was happening might +be attributed. As often happens with passionate people, he was +mastered by anger but was still seeking an object on which to vent it. +"Here is that mob, the dregs of the people," he thought as he gazed at +the crowd: "this rabble they have roused by their folly! They want a +victim," he thought as he looked at the tall lad flourishing his +arm. And this thought occurred to him just because he himself +desired a victim, something on which to vent his rage. + +"Is the carriage ready?" he asked again. + +"Yes, your excellency. What are your orders about Vereshchagin? He +is waiting at the porch," said the adjutant. + +"Ah!" exclaimed Rostopchin, as if struck by an unexpected +recollection. + +And rapidly opening the door he went resolutely out onto the +balcony. The talking instantly ceased, hats and caps were doffed, +and all eyes were raised to the count. + +"Good morning, lads!" said the count briskly and loudly. "Thank +you for coming. I'll come out to you in a moment, but we must first +settle with the villain. We must punish the villain who has caused the +ruin of Moscow. Wait for me!" + +And the count stepped as briskly back into the room and slammed +the door behind him. + +A murmur of approbation and satisfaction ran through the crowd. +"He'll settle with all the villains, you'll see! And you said the +French... He'll show you what law is!" the mob were saying as if +reproving one another for their lack of confidence. + +A few minutes later an officer came hurriedly out of the front door, +gave an order, and the dragoons formed up in line. The crowd moved +eagerly from the balcony toward the porch. Rostopchin, coming out +there with quick angry steps, looked hastily around as if seeking +someone. + +"Where is he?" he inquired. And as he spoke he saw a young man +coming round the corner of the house between two dragoons. He had a +long thin neck, and his head, that had been half shaved, was again +covered by short hair. This young man was dressed in a threadbare blue +cloth coat lined with fox fur, that had once been smart, and dirty +hempen convict trousers, over which were pulled his thin, dirty, +trodden-down boots. On his thin, weak legs were heavy chains which +hampered his irresolute movements. + +"Ah!" said Rostopchin, hurriedly turning away his eyes from the +young man in the fur-lined coat and pointing to the bottom step of the +porch. "Put him there." + +The young man in his clattering chains stepped clumsily to the +spot indicated, holding away with one finger the coat collar which +chafed his neck, turned his long neck twice this way and that, sighed, +and submissively folded before him his thin hands, unused to work. + +For several seconds while the young man was taking his place on +the step the silence continued. Only among the back rows of the +people, who were all pressing toward the one spot, could sighs, +groans, and the shuffling of feet be heard. + +While waiting for the young man to take his place on the step +Rostopchin stood frowning and rubbing his face with his hand. + +"Lads!" said he, with a metallic ring in his voice. "This man, +Vereshchagin, is the scoundrel by whose doing Moscow is perishing." + +The young man in the fur-lined coat, stooping a little, stood in a +submissive attitude, his fingers clasped before him. His emaciated +young face, disfigured by the half-shaven head, hung down +hopelessly. At the count's first words he raised it slowly and +looked up at him as if wishing to say something or at least to meet +his eye. But Rostopchin did not look at him. A vein in the young man's +long thin neck swelled like a cord and went blue behind the ear, and +suddenly his face flushed. + +All eyes were fixed on him. He looked at the crowd, and rendered +more hopeful by the expression he read on the faces there, he smiled +sadly and timidly, and lowering his head shifted his feet on the step. + +"He has betrayed his Tsar and his country, he had gone over to +Bonaparte. He alone of all the Russians has disgraced the Russian +name, he has caused Moscow to perish," said Rostopchin in a sharp, +even voice, but suddenly he glanced down at Vereshchagin who continued +to stand in the same submissive attitude. As if inflamed by the sight, +he raised his arm and addressed the people, almost shouting: + +"Deal with him as you think fit! I hand him over to you." + +The crowd remained silent and only pressed closer and closer to +one another. To keep one another back, to breathe in that stifling +atmosphere, to be unable to stir, and to await something unknown, +uncomprehended, and terrible, was becoming unbearable. Those +standing in front, who had seen and heard what had taken place +before them, all stood with wide open eyes and mouths, straining +with all their strength, and held back the crowd that was pushing +behind them. + +"Beat him!... Let the traitor perish and not disgrace the Russian +name!" shouted Rostopchin. "Cut him down. I command it." + +Hearing not so much the words as the angry tone of Rostopchin's +voice, the crowd moaned and heaved forward, but again paused. + +"Count!" exclaimed the timid yet theatrical voice of Vereshchagin in +the midst of the momentary silence that ensued, "Count! One God is +above us both...." He lifted his head and again the thick vein in +his thin neck filled with blood and the color rapidly came and went in +his face. + +He did not finish what he wished to say. + +"Cut him down! I command it..." shouted Rostopchin, suddenly growing +pale like Vereshchagin. + +"Draw sabers!" cried the dragoon officer, drawing his own. + +Another still stronger wave flowed through the crowd and reaching +the front ranks carried it swaying to the very steps of the porch. The +tall youth, with a stony look on his face, and rigid and uplifted arm, +stood beside Vereshchagin. + +"Saber him!" the dragoon officer almost whispered. + +And one of the soldiers, his face all at once distorted with fury, +struck Vereshchagin on the head with the blunt side of his saber. + +"Ah!" cried Vereshchagin in meek surprise, looking round with a +frightened glance as if not understanding why this was done to him. +A similar moan of surprise and horror ran through the crowd. "O Lord!" +exclaimed a sorrowful voice. + +But after the exclamation of surprise that had escaped from +Vereshchagin he uttered a plaintive cry of pain, and that cry was +fatal. The barrier of human feeling, strained to the utmost, that +had held the crowd in check suddenly broke. The crime had begun and +must now be completed. The plaintive moan of reproach was drowned by +the threatening and angry roar of the crowd. Like the seventh and last +wave that shatters a ship, that last irresistible wave burst from +the rear and reached the front ranks, carrying them off their feet and +engulfing them all. The dragoon was about to repeat his blow. +Vereshchagin with a cry of horror, covering his head with his hands, +rushed toward the crowd. The tall youth, against whom he stumbled, +seized his thin neck with his hands and, yelling wildly, fell with him +under the feet of the pressing, struggling crowd. + +Some beat and tore at Vereshchagin, others at the tall youth. And +the screams of those that were being trampled on and of those who +tried to rescue the tall lad only increased the fury of the crowd. +It was a long time before the dragoons could extricate the bleeding +youth, beaten almost to death. And for a long time, despite the +feverish haste with which the mob tried to end the work that had +been begun, those who were hitting, throttling, and tearing at +Vereshchagin were unable to kill him, for the crowd pressed from all +sides, swaying as one mass with them in the center and rendering it +impossible for them either to kill him or let him go. + +"Hit him with an ax, eh!... Crushed?... Traitor, he sold +Christ.... Still alive... tenacious... serves him right! Torture +serves a thief right. Use the hatchet!... What--still alive?" + +Only when the victim ceased to struggle and his cries changed to a +long-drawn, measured death rattle did the crowd around his +prostrate, bleeding corpse begin rapidly to change places. Each one +came up, glanced at what had been done, and with horror, reproach, and +astonishment pushed back again. + +"O Lord! The people are like wild beasts! How could he be alive?" +voices in the crowd could be heard saying. "Quite a young fellow +too... must have been a merchant's son. What men!... and they say he's +not the right one.... How not the right one?... O Lord! And there's +another has been beaten too--they say he's nearly done for.... Oh, the +people... Aren't they afraid of sinning?..." said the same mob now, +looking with pained distress at the dead body with its long, thin, +half-severed neck and its livid face stained with blood and dust. + +A painstaking police officer, considering the presence of a corpse +in his excellency's courtyard unseemly, told the dragoons to take it +away. Two dragoons took it by its distorted legs and dragged it +along the ground. The gory, dust-stained, half-shaven head with its +long neck trailed twisting along the ground. The crowd shrank back +from it. + +At the moment when Vereshchagin fell and the crowd closed in with +savage yells and swayed about him, Rostopchin suddenly turned pale +and, instead of going to the back entrance where his carriage +awaited him, went with hurried steps and bent head, not knowing +where and why, along the passage leading to the rooms on the ground +floor. The count's face was white and he could not control the +feverish twitching of his lower jaw. + +"This way, your excellency... Where are you going?... This way, +please..." said a trembling, frightened voice behind him. + +Count Rostopchin was unable to reply and, turning obediently, went +in the direction indicated. At the back entrance stood his caleche. +The distant roar of the yelling crowd was audible even there. He +hastily took his seat and told the coachman to drive him to his +country house in Sokolniki. + +When they reached the Myasnitski Street and could no longer hear the +shouts of the mob, the count began to repent. He remembered with +dissatisfaction the agitation and fear he had betrayed before his +subordinates. "The mob is terrible--disgusting," he said to himself in +French. "They are like wolves whom nothing but flesh can appease." +"Count! One God is above us both!"--Vereshchagin's words suddenly +recurred to him, and a disagreeable shiver ran down his back. But this +was only a momentary feeling and Count Rostopchin smiled +disdainfully at himself. "I had other duties," thought he. "The people +had to be appeased. Many other victims have perished and are perishing +for the public good"--and he began thinking of his social duties to +his family and to the city entrusted to him, and of himself--not +himself as Theodore Vasilyevich Rostopchin (he fancied that Theodore +Vasilyevich Rostopchin was sacrificing himself for the public good) +but himself as governor, the representative of authority and of the +Tsar. "Had I been simply Theodore Vasilyevich my course of action +would have been quite different, but it was my duty to safeguard my +life and dignity as commander in chief." + +Lightly swaying on the flexible springs of his carriage and no +longer hearing the terrible sounds of the crowd, Rostopchin grew +physically calm and, as always happens, as soon as he became +physically tranquil his mind devised reasons why he should be mentally +tranquil too. The thought which tranquillized Rostopchin was not a new +one. Since the world began and men have killed one another no one +has ever committed such a crime against his fellow man without +comforting himself with this same idea. This idea is le bien public, +the hypothetical welfare of other people. + +To a man not swayed by passion that welfare is never certain, but he +who commits such a crime always knows just where that welfare lies. +And Rostopchin now knew it. + +Not only did his reason not reproach him for what he had done, but +he even found cause for self-satisfaction in having so successfully +contrived to avail himself of a convenient opportunity to punish a +criminal and at the same time pacify the mob. + +"Vereshchagin was tried and condemned to death," thought +Rostopchin (though the Senate had only condemned Vereshchagin to +hard labor), "he was a traitor and a spy. I could not let him go +unpunished and so I have killed two birds with one stone: to appease +the mob I gave them a victim and at the same time punished a +miscreant." + +Having reached his country house and begun to give orders about +domestic arrangements, the count grew quite tranquil. + +Half an hour later he was driving with his fast horses across the +Sokolniki field, no longer thinking of what had occurred but +considering what was to come. He was driving to the Yauza bridge where +he had heard that Kutuzov was. Count Rostopchin was mentally preparing +the angry and stinging reproaches he meant to address to Kutuzov for +his deception. He would make that foxy old courtier feel that the +responsibility for all the calamities that would follow the +abandonment of the city and the ruin of Russia (as Rostopchin regarded +it) would fall upon his doting old head. Planning beforehand what he +would say to Kutuzov, Rostopchin turned angrily in his caleche and +gazed sternly from side to side. + +The Sokolniki field was deserted. Only at the end of it, in front of +the almshouse and the lunatic asylum, could be seen some people in +white and others like them walking singly across the field shouting +and gesticulating. + +One of these was running to cross the path of Count Rostopchin's +carriage, and the count himself, his coachman, and his dragoons looked +with vague horror and curiosity at these released lunatics and +especially at the one running toward them. + +Swaying from side to side on his long, thin legs in his fluttering +dressing gown, this lunatic was running impetuously, his gaze fixed on +Rostopchin, shouting something in a hoarse voice and making signs to +him to stop. The lunatic's solemn, gloomy face was thin and yellow, +with its beard growing in uneven tufts. His black, agate pupils with +saffron-yellow whites moved restlessly near the lower eyelids. + +"Stop! Pull up, I tell you!" he cried in a piercing voice, and again +shouted something breathlessly with emphatic intonations and gestures. + +Coming abreast of the caleche he ran beside it. + +"Thrice have they slain me, thrice have I risen from the dead. +They stoned me, crucified me... I shall rise... shall rise... shall +rise. They have torn my body. The kingdom of God will be overthrown... +Thrice will I overthrow it and thrice re-establish it!" he cried, +raising his voice higher and higher. + +Count Rostopchin suddenly grew pale as he had done when the crowd +closed in on Vereshchagin. He turned away. "Go fas... faster!" he +cried in a trembling voice to his coachman. The caleche flew over +the ground as fast as the horses could draw it, but for a long time +Count Rostopchin still heard the insane despairing screams growing +fainter in the distance, while his eyes saw nothing but the +astonished, frightened, bloodstained face of "the traitor" in the +fur-lined coat. + +Recent as that mental picture was, Rostopchin already felt that it +had cut deep into his heart and drawn blood. Even now he felt +clearly that the gory trace of that recollection would not pass with +time, but that the terrible memory would, on the contrary, dwell in +his heart ever more cruelly and painfully to the end of his life. He +seemed still to hear the sound of his own words: "Cut him down! I +command it...." + +"Why did I utter those words? It was by some accident I said +them.... I need not have said them," he thought. "And then nothing +would have happened." He saw the frightened and then infuriated face +of the dragoon who dealt the blow, the look of silent, timid +reproach that boy in the fur-lined coat had turned upon him. "But I +did not do it for my own sake. I was bound to act that way.... The +mob, the traitor... the public welfare," thought he. + +Troops were still crowding at the Yauza bridge. It was hot. Kutuzov, +dejected and frowning, sat on a bench by the bridge toying with his +whip in the sand when a caleche dashed up noisily. A man in a +general's uniform with plumes in his hat went up to Kutuzov and said +something in French. It was Count Rostopchin. He told Kutuzov that +he had come because Moscow, the capital, was no more and only the army +remained. + +"Things would have been different if your Serene Highness had not +told me that you would not abandon Moscow without another battle; +all this would not have happened," he said. + +Kutuzov looked at Rostopchin as if, not grasping what was said to +him, he was trying to read something peculiar written at that moment +on the face of the man addressing him. Rostopchin grew confused and +became silent. Kutuzov slightly shook his head and not taking his +penetrating gaze from Rostopchin's face muttered softly: + +"No! I shall not give up Moscow without a battle!" + +Whether Kutuzov was thinking of something entirely different when he +spoke those words, or uttered them purposely, knowing them to be +meaningless, at any rate Rostopchin made no reply and hastily left +him. And strange to say, the Governor of Moscow, the proud Count +Rostopchin, took up a Cossack whip and went to the bridge where he +began with shouts to drive on the carts that blocked the way. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +Toward four o'clock in the afternoon Murat's troops were entering +Moscow. In front rode a detachment of Wurttemberg hussars and behind +them rode the King of Naples himself accompanied by a numerous suite. + +About the middle of the Arbat Street, near the Church of the +Miraculous Icon of St. Nicholas, Murat halted to await news from the +advanced detachment as to the condition in which they had found the +citadel, le Kremlin. + +Around Murat gathered a group of those who had remained in Moscow. +They all stared in timid bewilderment at the strange, long-haired +commander dressed up in feathers and gold. + +"Is that their Tsar himself? He's not bad!" low voices could be +heard saying. + +An interpreter rode up to the group. + +"Take off your cap... your caps!" These words went from one to +another in the crowd. The interpreter addressed an old porter and +asked if it was far to the Kremlin. The porter, listening in +perplexity to the unfamiliar Polish accent and not realizing that +the interpreter was speaking Russian, did not understand what was +being said to him and slipped behind the others. + +Murat approached the interpreter and told him to ask where the +Russian army was. One of the Russians understood what was asked and +several voices at once began answering the interpreter. A French +officer, returning from the advanced detachment, rode up to Murat +and reported that the gates of the citadel had been barricaded and +that there was probably an ambuscade there. + +"Good!" said Murat and, turning to one of the gentlemen in his +suite, ordered four light guns to be moved forward to fire at the +gates. + +The guns emerged at a trot from the column following Murat and +advanced up the Arbat. When they reached the end of the Vozdvizhenka +Street they halted and drew in the Square. Several French officers +superintended the placing of the guns and looked at the Kremlin +through field glasses. + +The bells in the Kremlin were ringing for vespers, and this sound +troubled the French. They imagined it to be a call to arms. A few +infantrymen ran to the Kutafyev Gate. Beams and wooden screens had +been put there, and two musket shots rang out from under the gate as +soon as an officer and men began to run toward it. A general who was +standing by the guns shouted some words of command to the officer, and +the latter ran back again with his men. + +The sound of three more shots came from the gate. + +One shot struck a French soldier's foot, and from behind the screens +came the strange sound of a few voices shouting. Instantly as at a +word of command the expression of cheerful serenity on the faces of +the French general, officers, and men changed to one of determined +concentrated readiness for strife and suffering. To all of them from +the marshal to the least soldier, that place was not the Vozdvizhenka, +Mokhavaya, or Kutafyev Street, nor the Troitsa Gate (places familiar +in Moscow), but a new battlefield which would probably prove +sanguinary. And all made ready for that battle. The cries from the +gates ceased. The guns were advanced, the artillerymen blew the ash +off their linstocks, and an officer gave the word "Fire!" This was +followed by two whistling sounds of canister shot, one after +another. The shot rattled against the stone of the gate and upon the +wooden beams and screens, and two wavering clouds of smoke rose over +the Square. + +A few instants after the echo of the reports resounding over the +stone-built Kremlin had died away the French heard a strange sound +above their head. Thousands of crows rose above the walls and +circled in the air, cawing and noisily flapping their wings. +Together with that sound came a solitary human cry from the gateway +and amid the smoke appeared the figure of a bareheaded man in a +peasant's coat. He grasped a musket and took aim at the French. +"Fire!" repeated the officer once more, and the reports of a musket +and of two cannon shots were heard simultaneously. The gate again +hidden by smoke. + +Nothing more stirred behind the screens and the French infantry +soldiers and officers advanced to the gate. In the gateway lay three +wounded and four dead. Two men in peasant coats ran away at the foot +of the wall, toward the Znamenka. + +"Clear that away!" said the officer, pointing to the beams and the +corpses, and the French soldiers, after dispatching the wounded, threw +the corpses over the parapet. + +Who these men were nobody knew. "Clear that away!" was all that +was said of them, and they were thrown over the parapet and removed +later on that they might not stink. Thiers alone dedicates a few +eloquent lines to their memory: "These wretches had occupied the +sacred citadel, having supplied themselves with guns from the arsenal, +and fired" (the wretches) "at the French. Some of them were sabered +and the Kremlin was purged of their presence." + +Murat was informed that the way had been cleared. The French entered +the gates and began pitching their camp in the Senate Square. Out of +the windows of the Senate House the soldiers threw chairs into the +Square for fuel and kindled fires there. + +Other detachments passed through the Kremlin and encamped along +the Moroseyka, the Lubyanka, and Pokrovka Streets. Others quartered +themselves along the Vozdvizhenka, the Nikolski, and the Tverskoy +Streets. No masters of the houses being found anywhere, the French +were not billeted on the inhabitants as is usual in towns but lived in +it as in a camp. + +Though tattered, hungry, worn out, and reduced to a third of their +original number, the French entered Moscow in good marching order. +It was a weary and famished, but still a fighting and menacing army. +But it remained an army only until its soldiers had dispersed into +their different lodgings. As soon as the men of the various +regiments began to disperse among the wealthy and deserted houses, the +army was lost forever and there came into being something nondescript, +neither citizens nor soldiers but what are known as marauders. When +five weeks later these same men left Moscow, they no longer formed +an army. They were a mob of marauders, each carrying a quantity of +articles which seemed to him valuable or useful. The aim of each man +when he left Moscow was no longer, as it had been, to conquer, but +merely to keep what he had acquired. Like a monkey which puts its +paw into the narrow neck of a jug, and having seized a handful of nuts +will not open its fist for fear of losing what it holds, and therefore +perishes, the French when they left Moscow had inevitably to perish +because they carried their loot with them, yet to abandon what they +had stolen was as impossible for them as it is for the monkey to +open its paw and let go of its nuts. Ten minutes after each regiment +had entered a Moscow district, not a soldier or officer was left. +Men in military uniforms and Hessian boots could be seen through the +windows, laughing and walking through the rooms. In cellars and +storerooms similar men were busy among the provisions, and in the +yards unlocking or breaking open coach house and stable doors, +lighting fires in kitchens and kneading and baking bread with +rolled-up sleeves, and cooking; or frightening, amusing, or +caressing women and children. There were many such men both in the +shops and houses--but there was no army. + +Order after order was issued by the French commanders that day +forbidding the men to disperse about the town, sternly forbidding +any violence to the inhabitants or any looting, and announcing a +roll call for that very evening. But despite all these measures the +men, who had till then constituted an army, flowed all over the +wealthy, deserted city with its comforts and plentiful supplies. As +a hungry herd of cattle keeps well together when crossing a barren +field, but gets out of hand and at once disperses uncontrollably as +soon as it reaches rich pastures, so did the army disperse all over +the wealthy city. + +No residents were left in Moscow, and the soldiers--like water +percolating through sand--spread irresistibly through the city in +all directions from the Kremlin into which they had first marched. The +cavalry, on entering a merchant's house that had been abandoned and +finding there stabling more than sufficient for their horses, went on, +all the same, to the next house which seemed to them better. Many of +them appropriated several houses, chalked their names on them, and +quarreled and even fought with other companies for them. Before they +had had time to secure quarters the soldiers ran out into the +streets to see the city and, hearing that everything had been +abandoned, rushed to places where valuables were to be had for the +taking. The officers followed to check the soldiers and were +involuntarily drawn into doing the same. In Carriage Row carriages had +been left in the shops, and generals flocked there to select +caleches and coaches for themselves. The few inhabitants who had +remained invited commanding officers to their houses, hoping thereby +to secure themselves from being plundered. There were masses of wealth +and there seemed no end to it. All around the quarters occupied by the +French were other regions still unexplored and unoccupied where, +they thought, yet greater riches might be found. And Moscow engulfed +the army ever deeper and deeper. When water is spilled on dry ground +both the dry ground and the water disappear and mud results; and in +the same way the entry of the famished army into the rich and deserted +city resulted in fires and looting and the destruction of both the +army and the wealthy city. + + +The French attributed the Fire of Moscow au patriotisme feroce de +Rostopchine,* the Russians to the barbarity of the French. In reality, +however, it was not, and could not be, possible to explain the burning +of Moscow by making any individual, or any group of people, +responsible for it. Moscow was burned because it found itself in a +position in which any town built of wood was bound to burn, quite +apart from whether it had, or had not, a hundred and thirty inferior +fire engines. Deserted Moscow had to burn as inevitably as a heap of +shavings has to burn on which sparks continually fall for several +days. A town built of wood, where scarcely a day passes without +conflagrations when the house owners are in residence and a police +force is present, cannot help burning when its inhabitants have left +it and it is occupied by soldiers who smoke pipes, make campfires of +the Senate chairs in the Senate Square, and cook themselves meals +twice a day. In peacetime it is only necessary to billet troops in the +villages of any district and the number of fires in that district +immediately increases. How much then must the probability of fire be +increased in an abandoned, wooden town where foreign troops are +quartered. "Le patriotisme feroce de Rostopchine" and the barbarity of +the French were not to blame in the matter. Moscow was set on fire +by the soldiers' pipes, kitchens, and campfires, and by the +carelessness of enemy soldiers occupying houses they did not own. Even +if there was any arson (which is very doubtful, for no one had any +reason to burn the houses--in any case a troublesome and dangerous +thing to do), arson cannot be regarded as the cause, for the same +thing would have happened without any incendiarism. + + +*To Rostopchin's ferocious patriotism. + + +However tempting it might be for the French to blame Rostopchin's +ferocity and for Russians to blame the scoundrel Bonaparte, or later +on to place an heroic torch in the hands of their own people, it is +impossible not to see that there could be no such direct cause of +the fire, for Moscow had to burn as every village, factory, or house +must burn which is left by its owners and in which strangers are +allowed to live and cook their porridge. Moscow was burned by its +inhabitants, it is true, but by those who had abandoned it and not +by those who remained in it. Moscow when occupied by the enemy did not +remain intact like Berlin, Vienna, and other towns, simply because its +inhabitants abandoned it and did not welcome the French with bread and +salt, nor bring them the keys of the city. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +The absorption of the French by Moscow, radiating starwise as it +did, only reached the quarter where Pierre was staying by the +evening of the second of September. + +After the last two days spent in solitude and unusual circumstances, +Pierre was in a state bordering on insanity. He was completely +obsessed by one persistent thought. He did not know how or when this +thought had taken such possession of him, but he remembered nothing of +the past, understood nothing of the present, and all he saw and +heard appeared to him like a dream. + +He had left home only to escape the intricate tangle of life's +demands that enmeshed him, and which in his present condition he was +unable to unravel. He had gone to Joseph Alexeevich's house, on the +plea of sorting the deceased's books and papers, only in search of +rest from life's turmoil, for in his mind the memory of Joseph +Alexeevich was connected with a world of eternal, solemn, and calm +thoughts, quite contrary to the restless confusion into which he +felt himself being drawn. He sought a quiet refuge, and in Joseph +Alexeevich's study he really found it. When he sat with his elbows +on the dusty writing table in the deathlike stillness of the study, +calm and significant memories of the last few days rose one after +another in his imagination, particularly of the battle of Borodino and +of that vague sense of his own insignificance and insincerity compared +with the truth, simplicity, and strength of the class of men he +mentally classed as they. When Gerasim roused him from his reverie the +idea occurred to him of taking part in the popular defense of Moscow +which he knew was projected. And with that object he had asked Gerasim +to get him a peasant's coat and a pistol, confiding to him his +intentions of remaining in Joseph Alexeevich's house and keeping his +name secret. Then during the first day spent in inaction and +solitude (he tried several times to fix his attention on the Masonic +manuscripts, but was unable to do so) the idea that had previously +occurred to him of the cabalistic significance of his name in +connection with Bonaparte's more than once vaguely presented itself. +But the idea that he, L'russe Besuhof, was destined to set a limit +to the power of the Beast was as yet only one of the fancies that +often passed through his mind and left no trace behind. + +When, having bought the coat merely with the object of taking part +among the people in the defense of Moscow, Pierre had met the +Rostovs and Natasha had said to him: "Are you remaining in +Moscow?... How splendid!" the thought flashed into his mind that it +really would be a good thing, even if Moscow were taken, for him to +remain there and do what he was predestined to do. + +Next day, with the sole idea of not sparing himself and not +lagging in any way behind them, Pierre went to the Three Hills gate. +But when he returned to the house convinced that Moscow would not be +defended, he suddenly felt that what before had seemed to him merely a +possibility had now become absolutely necessary and inevitable. He +must remain in Moscow, concealing his name, and must meet Napoleon and +kill him, and either perish or put an end to the misery of all Europe- +which it seemed to him was solely due to Napoleon. + +Pierre knew all the details of the attempt on Bonaparte's life in +1809 by a German student in Vienna, and knew that the student had been +shot. And the risk to which he would expose his life by carrying out +his design excited him still more. + +Two equally strong feelings drew Pierre irresistibly to this +purpose. The first was a feeling of the necessity of sacrifice and +suffering in view of the common calamity, the same feeling that had +caused him to go to Mozhaysk on the twenty-fifth and to make his way +to the very thick of the battle and had now caused him to run away +from his home and, in place of the luxury and comfort to which he +was accustomed, to sleep on a hard sofa without undressing and eat the +same food as Gerasim. The other was that vague and quite Russian +feeling of contempt for everything conventional, artificial, and +human--for everything the majority of men regard as the greatest +good in the world. Pierre had first experienced this strange and +fascinating feeling at the Sloboda Palace, when he had suddenly felt +that wealth, power, and life--all that men so painstakingly acquire +and guard--if it has any worth has so only by reason the joy with +which it can all be renounced. + +It was the feeling that induces a volunteer recruit to spend his +last penny on drink, and a drunken man to smash mirrors or glasses for +no apparent reason and knowing that it will cost him all the money +he possesses: the feeling which causes a man to perform actions +which from an ordinary point of view are insane, to test, as it +were, his personal power and strength, affirming the existence of a +higher, nonhuman criterion of life. + +From the very day Pierre had experienced this feeling for the +first time at the Sloboda Palace he had been continuously under its +influence, but only now found full satisfaction for it. Moreover, at +this moment Pierre was supported in his design and prevented from +renouncing it by what he had already done in that direction. If he +were now to leave Moscow like everyone else, his flight from home, the +peasant coat, the pistol, and his announcement to the Rostovs that +he would remain in Moscow would all become not merely meaningless +but contemptible and ridiculous, and to this Pierre was very +sensitive. + +Pierre's physical condition, as is always the case, corresponded +to his mental state. The unaccustomed coarse food, the vodka he +drank during those days, the absence of wine and cigars, his dirty +unchanged linen, two almost sleepless nights passed on a short sofa +without bedding--all this kept him in a state of excitement +bordering on insanity. + +It was two o'clock in the afternoon. The French had already +entered Moscow. Pierre knew this, but instead of acting he only +thought about his undertaking, going over its minutest details in +his mind. In his fancy he did not clearly picture to himself either +the striking of the blow or the death of Napoleon, but with +extraordinary vividness and melancholy enjoyment imagined his own +destruction and heroic endurance. + +"Yes, alone, for the sake of all, I must do it or perish!" he +thought. "Yes, I will approach... and then suddenly... with pistol +or dagger? But that is all the same! 'It is not I but the hand of +Providence that punishes thee,' I shall say," thought he, imagining +what he would say when killing Napoleon. "Well then, take me and +execute me!" he went on, speaking to himself and bowing his head +with a sad but firm expression. + +While Pierre, standing in the middle of the room, was talking to +himself in this way, the study door opened and on the threshold +appeared the figure of Makar Alexeevich, always so timid before but +now quite transformed. + +His dressing gown was unfastened, his face red and distorted. He was +obviously drunk. On seeing Pierre he grew confused at first, but +noticing embarrassment on Pierre's face immediately grew bold and, +staggering on his thin legs, advanced into the middle of the room. + +"They're frightened," he said confidentially in a hoarse voice. "I +say I won't surrender, I say... Am I not right, sir?" + +He paused and then suddenly seeing the pistol on the table seized it +with unexpected rapidity and ran out into the corridor. + +Gerasim and the porter, who had followed Makar Alexeevich, stopped +him in the vestibule and tried to take the pistol from him. Pierre, +coming out into the corridor, looked with pity and repulsion at the +half-crazy old man. Makar Alexeevich, frowning with exertion, held +on to the pistol and screamed hoarsely, evidently with some heroic +fancy in his head. + +"To arms! Board them! No, you shan't get it," he yelled. + +"That will do, please, that will do. Have the goodness--please, sir, +to let go! Please, sir..." pleaded Gerasim, trying carefully to +steer Makar Alexeevich by the elbows back to the door. + +"Who are you? Bonaparte!..." shouted Makar Alexeevich. + +"That's not right, sir. Come to your room, please, and rest. Allow +me to have the pistol." + +"Be off, thou base slave! Touch me not! See this?" shouted Makar +Alexeevich, brandishing the pistol. "Board them!" + +"Catch hold!" whispered Gerasim to the porter. + +They seized Makar Alexeevich by the arms and dragged him to the +door. + +The vestibule was filled with the discordant sounds of a struggle +and of a tipsy, hoarse voice. + +Suddenly a fresh sound, a piercing feminine scream, reverberated +from the porch and the cook came running into the vestibule. + +"It's them! Gracious heavens! O Lord, four of them, horsemen!" she +cried. + +Gerasim and the porter let Makar Alexeevich go, and in the now +silent corridor the sound of several hands knocking at the front +door could be heard. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +Pierre, having decided that until he had carried out his design he +would disclose neither his identity nor his knowledge of French, stood +at the half-open door of the corridor, intending to conceal himself as +soon as the French entered. But the French entered and still Pierre +did not retire--an irresistible curiosity kept him there. + +There were two of them. One was an officer--a tall, soldierly, +handsome man--the other evidently a private or an orderly, +sunburned, short, and thin, with sunken cheeks and a dull +expression. The officer walked in front, leaning on a stick and +slightly limping. When he had advanced a few steps he stopped, +having apparently decided that these were good quarters, turned +round to the soldiers standing at the entrance, and in a loud voice of +command ordered them to put up the horses. Having done that, the +officer, lifting his elbow with a smart gesture, stroked his +mustache and lightly touched his hat. + +"Bonjour, la compagnie!"* said he gaily, smiling and looking about +him. + + +*"Good day, everybody!" + + +No one gave any reply. + +"Vous etes le bourgeois?"* the officer asked Gerasim. + + +*"Are you the master here?" + + +Gerasim gazed at the officer with an alarmed and inquiring look. + +"Quartier, quartier, logement!" said the officer, looking down at +the little man with a condescending and good-natured smile. "Les +francais sont de bons enfants. Que diable! Voyons! Ne nous fachons +pas, mon vieux!"* added he, clapping the scared and silent Gerasim +on the shoulder. "Well, does no one speak French in this +establishment?" he asked again in French, looking around and meeting +Pierre's eyes. Pierre moved away from the door. + + +*"Quarters, quarters, lodgings! The French are good fellows. What +the devil! There, don't let us be cross, old fellow!" + + +Again the officer turned to Gerasim and asked him to show him the +rooms in the house. + +"Master, not here--don't understand... me, you..." said Gerasim, +trying to render his words more comprehensible by contorting them. + +Still smiling, the French officer spread out his hands before +Gerasim's nose, intimating that he did not understand him either, +and moved, limping, to the door at which Pierre was standing. Pierre +wished to go away and conceal himself, but at that moment he saw Makar +Alexeevich appearing at the open kitchen door with the pistol in his +hand. With a madman's cunning, Makar Alexeevich eyed the Frenchman, +raised his pistol, and took aim. + +"Board them!" yelled the tipsy man, trying to press the trigger. +Hearing the yell the officer turned round, and at the same moment +Pierre threw himself on the drunkard. Just when Pierre snatched at and +struck up the pistol Makar Alexeevich at last got his fingers on the +trigger, there was a deafening report, and all were enveloped in a +cloud of smoke. The Frenchman turned pale and rushed to the door. + +Forgetting his intention of concealing his knowledge of French, +Pierre, snatching away the pistol and throwing it down, ran up to +the officer and addressed him in French. + +"You are not wounded?" he asked. + +"I think not," answered the Frenchman, feeling himself over. "But +I have had a lucky escape this time," he added, pointing to the +damaged plaster of the wall. "Who is that man?" said he, looking +sternly at Pierre. + +"Oh, I am really in despair at what has occurred," said Pierre +rapidly, quite forgetting the part he had intended to play. "He is +an unfortunate madman who did not know what he was doing." + +The officer went up to Makar Alexeevich and took him by the collar. + +Makar Alexeevich was standing with parted lips, swaying, as if about +to fall asleep, as he leaned against the wall. + +"Brigand! You shall pay for this," said the Frenchman, letting go of +him. "We French are merciful after victory, but we do not pardon +traitors," he added, with a look of gloomy dignity and a fine +energetic gesture. + +Pierre continued, in French, to persuade the officer not to hold +that drunken imbecile to account. The Frenchman listened in silence +with the same gloomy expression, but suddenly turned to Pierre with +a smile. For a few seconds he looked at him in silence. His handsome +face assumed a melodramatically gentle expression and he held out +his hand. + +"You have saved my life. You are French," said he. + +For a Frenchman that deduction was indubitable. Only a Frenchman +could perform a great deed, and to save his life--the life of M. +Ramballe, captain of the 13th Light Regiment--was undoubtedly a very +great deed. + +But however indubitable that conclusion and the officer's conviction +based upon it, Pierre felt it necessary to disillusion him. + +"I am Russian," he said quickly. + +"Tut, tut, tut! Tell that to others," said the officer, waving his +finger before his nose and smiling. "You shall tell me all about +that presently. I am delighted to meet a compatriot. Well, and what +are we to do with this man?" he added, addressing himself to Pierre as +to a brother. + +Even if Pierre were not a Frenchman, having once received that +loftiest of human appellations he could not renounce it, said the +officer's look and tone. In reply to his last question Pierre again +explained who Makar Alexeevich was and how just before their arrival +that drunken imbecile had seized the loaded pistol which they had +not had time to recover from him, and begged the officer to let the +deed go unpunished. + +The Frenchman expanded his chest and made a majestic gesture with +his arm. + +"You have saved my life! You are French. You ask his pardon? I grant +it you. Lead that man away!" said he quickly and energetically, and +taking the arm of Pierre whom he had promoted to be a Frenchman for +saving his life, he went with him into the room. + +The soldiers in the yard, hearing the shot, came into the passage +asking what had happened, and expressed their readiness to punish +the culprits, but the officer sternly checked them. + +"You will be called in when you are wanted," he said. + +The soldiers went out again, and the orderly, who had meanwhile +had time to visit the kitchen, came up to his officer. + +"Captain, there is soup and a leg of mutton in the kitchen," said +he. "Shall I serve them up?" + +"Yes, and some wine," answered the captain. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +When the French officer went into the room with Pierre the latter +again thought it his duty to assure him that he was not French and +wished to go away, but the officer would not hear of it. He was so +very polite, amiable, good-natured, and genuinely grateful to Pierre +for saving his life that Pierre had not the heart to refuse, and sat +down with him in the parlor--the first room they entered. To +Pierre's assurances that he was not a Frenchman, the captain, +evidently not understanding how anyone could decline so flattering +an appellation, shrugged his shoulders and said that if Pierre +absolutely insisted on passing for a Russian let it be so, but for all +that he would be forever bound to Pierre by gratitude for saving his +life. + +Had this man been endowed with the slightest capacity for perceiving +the feelings of others, and had he at all understood what Pierre's +feelings were, the latter would probably have left him, but the +man's animated obtuseness to everything other than himself disarmed +Pierre. + +"A Frenchman or a Russian prince incognito," said the officer, +looking at Pierre's fine though dirty linen and at the ring on his +finger. "I owe my life to you and offer you my friendship. A Frenchman +never forgets either an insult or a service. I offer you my +friendship. That is all I can say." + +There was so much good nature and nobility (in the French sense of +the word) in the officer's voice, in the expression of his face and in +his gestures, that Pierre, unconsciously smiling in response to the +Frenchman's smile, pressed the hand held out to him. + +"Captain Ramballe, of the 13th Light Regiment, Chevalier of the +Legion of Honor for the affair on the seventh of September," he +introduced himself, a self-satisfied irrepressible smile puckering his +lips under his mustache. "Will you now be so good as to tell me with +whom I have the honor of conversing so pleasantly, instead of being in +the ambulance with that maniac's bullet in my body?" + +Pierre replied that he could not tell him his name and, blushing, +began to try to invent a name and to say something about his reason +for concealing it, but the Frenchman hastily interrupted him. + +"Oh, please!" said he. "I understand your reasons. You are an +officer... a superior officer perhaps. You have borne arms against us. +That's not my business. I owe you my life. That is enough for me. I am +quite at your service. You belong to the gentry?" he concluded with +a shade of inquiry in his tone. Pierre bent his head. "Your +baptismal name, if you please. That is all I ask. Monsieur Pierre, you +say.... That's all I want to know." + +When the mutton and an omelet had been served and a samovar and +vodka brought, with some wine which the French had taken from a +Russian cellar and brought with them, Ramballe invited Pierre to share +his dinner, and himself began to eat greedily and quickly like a +healthy and hungry man, munching his food rapidly with his strong +teeth, continually smacking his lips, and repeating--"Excellent! +Delicious!" His face grew red and was covered with perspiration. +Pierre was hungry and shared the dinner with pleasure. Morel, the +orderly, brought some hot water in a saucepan and placed a bottle of +claret in it. He also brought a bottle of kvass, taken from the +kitchen for them to try. That beverage was already known to the French +and had been given a special name. They called it limonade de cochon +(pig's lemonade), and Morel spoke well of the limonade de cochon he +had found in the kitchen. But as the captain had the wine they had +taken while passing through Moscow, he left the kvass to Morel and +applied himself to the bottle of Bordeaux. He wrapped the bottle up to +its neck in a table napkin and poured out wine for himself and for +Pierre. The satisfaction of his hunger and the wine rendered the +captain still more lively and he chatted incessantly all through +dinner. + +"Yes, my dear Monsieur Pierre, I owe you a fine votive candle for +saving me from that maniac.... You see, I have bullets enough in my +body already. Here is one I got at Wagram" (he touched his side) +"and a second at Smolensk"--he showed a scar on his cheek--"and this +leg which as you see does not want to march, I got that on the seventh +at the great battle of la Moskowa. Sacre Dieu! It was splendid! That +deluge of fire was worth seeing. It was a tough job you set us +there, my word! You may be proud of it! And on my honor, in spite of +the cough I caught there, I should be ready to begin again. I pity +those who did not see it." + +"I was there," said Pierre. + +"Bah, really? So much the better! You are certainly brave foes. +The great redoubt held out well, by my pipe!" continued the Frenchman. +"And you made us pay dear for it. I was at it three times--sure as I +sit here. Three times we reached the guns and three times we were +thrown back like cardboard figures. Oh, it was beautiful, Monsieur +Pierre! Your grenadiers were splendid, by heaven! I saw them close +up their ranks six times in succession and march as if on parade. Fine +fellows! Our King of Naples, who knows what's what, cried 'Bravo!' Ha, +ha! So you are one of us soldiers!" he added, smiling, after a +momentary pause. "So much the better, so much the better, Monsieur +Pierre! Terrible in battle... gallant... with the fair" (he winked and +smiled), "that's what the French are, Monsieur Pierre, aren't they?" + +The captain was so naively and good-humoredly gay, so real, and so +pleased with himself that Pierre almost winked back as he looked +merrily at him. Probably the word "gallant" turned the captain's +thoughts to the state of Moscow. + +"Apropos, tell me please, is it true that the women have all left +Moscow? What a queer idea! What had they to be afraid of?" + +"Would not the French ladies leave Paris if the Russians entered +it?" asked Pierre. + +"Ha, ha, ha!" The Frenchman emitted a merry, sanguine chuckle, +patting Pierre on the shoulder. "What a thing to say!" he exclaimed. +"Paris?... But Paris, Paris..." + +"Paris--the capital of the world," Pierre finished his remark for +him. + +The captain looked at Pierre. He had a habit of stopping short in +the middle of his talk and gazing intently with his laughing, kindly +eyes. + +"Well, if you hadn't told me you were Russian, I should have wagered +that you were Parisian! You have that... I don't know what, that..." +and having uttered this compliment, he again gazed at him in silence. + +"I have been in Paris. I spent years there," said Pierre. + +"Oh yes, one sees that plainly. Paris!... A man who doesn't know +Paris is a savage. You can tell a Parisian two leagues off. Paris is +Talma, la Duchenois, Potier, the Sorbonne, the boulevards," and +noticing that his conclusion was weaker than what had gone before, +he added quickly: "There is only one Paris in the world. You have been +to Paris and have remained Russian. Well, I don't esteem you the +less for it." + +Under the influence of the wine he had drunk, and after the days +he had spent alone with his depressing thoughts, Pierre +involuntarily enjoyed talking with this cheerful and good-natured man. + +"To return to your ladies--I hear they are lovely. What a wretched +idea to go and bury themselves in the steppes when the French army +is in Moscow. What a chance those girls have missed! Your peasants, +now--that's another thing; but you civilized people, you ought to know +us better than that. We took Vienna, Berlin, Madrid, Naples, Rome, +Warsaw, all the world's capitals.... We are feared, but we are +loved. We are nice to know. And then the Emperor..." he began, but +Pierre interrupted him. + +"The Emperor," Pierre repeated, and his face suddenly became sad and +embarrassed, "is the Emperor...?" + +"The Emperor? He is generosity, mercy, justice, order, genius- +that's what the Emperor is! It is I, Ramballe, who tell you so.... I +assure you I was his enemy eight years ago. My father was an +emigrant count.... But that man has vanquished me. He has taken hold +of me. I could not resist the sight of the grandeur and glory with +which he has covered France. When I understood what he wanted--when +I saw that he was preparing a bed of laurels for us, you know, I +said to myself: 'That is a monarch,' and I devoted myself to him! So +there! Oh yes, mon cher, he is the greatest man of the ages past or +future." + +"Is he in Moscow?" Pierre stammered with a guilty look. + +The Frenchman looked at his guilty face and smiled. + +"No, he will make his entry tomorrow," he replied, and continued his +talk. + +Their conversation was interrupted by the cries of several voices at +the gate and by Morel, who came to say that some Wurttemberg hussars +had come and wanted to put up their horses in the yard where the +captain's horses were. This difficulty had arisen chiefly because +the hussars did not understand what was said to them in French. + +The captain had their senior sergeant called in, and in a stern +voice asked him to what regiment he belonged, who was his commanding +officer, and by what right he allowed himself to claim quarters that +were already occupied. The German who knew little French, answered the +two first questions by giving the names of his regiment and of his +commanding officer, but in reply to the third question which he did +not understand said, introducing broken French into his own German, +that he was the quartermaster of the regiment and his commander had +ordered him to occupy all the houses one after another. Pierre, who +knew German, translated what the German said to the captain and gave +the captain's reply to the Wurttemberg hussar in German. When he had +understood what was said to him, the German submitted and took his men +elsewhere. The captain went out into the porch and gave some orders in +a loud voice. + +When he returned to the room Pierre was sitting in the same place as +before, with his head in his hands. His face expressed suffering. He +really was suffering at that moment. When the captain went out and +he was left alone, suddenly he came to himself and realized the +position he was in. It was not that Moscow had been taken or that +the happy conquerors were masters in it and were patronizing him. +Painful as that was it was not that which tormented Pierre at the +moment. He was tormented by the consciousness of his own weakness. The +few glasses of wine he had drunk and the conversation with this +good-natured man had destroyed the mood of concentrated gloom in which +he had spent the last few days and which was essential for the +execution of his design. The pistol, dagger, and peasant coat were +ready. Napoleon was to enter the town next day. Pierre still +considered that it would be a useful and worthy action to slay the +evildoer, but now he felt that he would not do it. He did not know +why, but he felt a foreboding that he would not carry out his +intention. He struggled against the confession of his weakness but +dimly felt that he could not overcome it and that his former gloomy +frame of mind, concerning vengeance, killing, and self-sacrifice, +had been dispersed like dust by contact with the first man he met. + +The captain returned to the room, limping slightly and whistling a +tune. + +The Frenchman's chatter which had previously amused Pierre now +repelled him. The tune he was whistling, his gait, and the gesture +with which he twirled his mustache, all now seemed offensive. "I +will go away immediately. I won't say another word to him," thought +Pierre. He thought this, but still sat in the same place. A strange +feeling of weakness tied him to the spot; he wished to get up and go +away, but could not do so. + +The captain, on the other hand, seemed very cheerful. He paced up +and down the room twice. His eyes shone and his mustache twitched as +if he were smiling to himself at some amusing thought. + +"The colonel of those Wurttembergers is delightful," he suddenly +said. "He's a German, but a nice fellow all the same.... But he's a +German." He sat down facing Pierre. "By the way, you know German, +then?" + +Pierre looked at him in silence. + +"What is the German for 'shelter'?" + +"Shelter?" Pierre repeated. "The German for shelter is Unterkunft." + +"How do you say it?" the captain asked quickly and doubtfully. + +"Unterkunft," Pierre repeated. + +"Onterkoff," said the captain and looked at Pierre for some +seconds with laughing eyes. "These Germans are first-rate fools, don't +you think so, Monsieur Pierre?" he concluded. + +"Well, let's have another bottle of this Moscow Bordeaux, shall +we? Morel will warm us up another little bottle. Morel!" he called out +gaily. + +Morel brought candles and a bottle of wine. The captain looked at +Pierre by the candlelight and was evidently struck by the troubled +expression on his companion's face. Ramballe, with genuine distress +and sympathy in his face, went up to Pierre and bent over him. + +"There now, we're sad," said he, touching Pierre's hand. "Have I +upset you? No, really, have you anything against me?" he asked Pierre. +"Perhaps it's the state of affairs?" + +Pierre did not answer, but looked cordially into the Frenchman's +eyes whose expression of sympathy was pleasing to him. + +"Honestly, without speaking of what I owe you, I feel friendship for +you. Can I do anything for you? Dispose of me. It is for life and +death. I say it with my hand on my heart!" said he, striking his +chest. + +"Thank you," said Pierre. + +The captain gazed intently at him as he had done when he learned +that "shelter" was Unterkunft in German, and his face suddenly +brightened. + +"Well, in that case, I drink to our friendship!" he cried gaily, +filling two glasses with wine. + +Pierre took one of the glasses and emptied it. Ramballe emptied +his too, again pressed Pierre's hand, and leaned his elbows on the +table in a pensive attitude. + +"Yes, my dear friend," he began, "such is fortune's caprice. Who +would have said that I should be a soldier and a captain of dragoons +in the service of Bonaparte, as we used to call him? Yet here I am +in Moscow with him. I must tell you, mon cher," he continued in the +sad and measured tones of a man who intends to tell a long story, +"that our name is one of the most ancient in France." + +And with a Frenchman's easy and naive frankness the captain told +Pierre the story of his ancestors, his childhood, youth, and +manhood, and all about his relations and his financial and family +affairs, "ma pauvre mere" playing of course an important part in the +story. + +"But all that is only life's setting, the real thing is love- +love! Am I not right, Monsieur Pierre?" said he, growing animated. +"Another glass?" + +Pierre again emptied his glass and poured himself out a third. + +"Oh, women, women!" and the captain, looking with glistening eyes at +Pierre, began talking of love and of his love affairs. + +There were very many of these, as one could easily believe, +looking at the officer's handsome, self-satisfied face, and noting the +eager enthusiasm with which he spoke of women. Though all Ramballe's +love stories had the sensual character which Frenchmen regard as the +special charm and poetry of love, yet he told his story with such +sincere conviction that he alone had experienced and known all the +charm of love and he described women so alluringly that Pierre +listened to him with curiosity. + +It was plain that l'amour which the Frenchman was so fond of was not +that low and simple kind that Pierre had once felt for his wife, nor +was it the romantic love stimulated by himself that he experienced for +Natasha. (Ramballe despised both these kinds of love equally: the +one he considered the "love of clodhoppers" and the other the "love of +simpletons.") L'amour which the Frenchman worshiped consisted +principally in the unnaturalness of his relation to the woman and in a +combination of incongruities giving the chief charm to the feeling. + +Thus the captain touchingly recounted the story of his love for a +fascinating marquise of thirty-five and at the same time for a +charming, innocent child of seventeen, daughter of the bewitching +marquise. The conflict of magnanimity between the mother and the +daughter, ending in the mother's sacrificing herself and offering +her daughter in marriage to her lover, even now agitated the +captain, though it was the memory of a distant past. Then he recounted +an episode in which the husband played the part of the lover, and +he--the lover--assumed the role of the husband, as well as several +droll incidents from his recollections of Germany, where "shelter" +is called Unterkunft and where the husbands eat sauerkraut and the +young girls are "too blonde." + +Finally, the latest episode in Poland still fresh in the captain's +memory, and which he narrated with rapid gestures and glowing face, +was of how he had saved the life of a Pole (in general, the saving +of life continually occurred in the captain's stories) and the Pole +had entrusted to him his enchanting wife (parisienne de coeur) while +himself entering the French service. The captain was happy, the +enchanting Polish lady wished to elope with him, but, prompted by +magnanimity, the captain restored the wife to the husband, saying as +he did so: "I have saved your life, and I save your honor!" Having +repeated these words the captain wiped his eyes and gave himself a +shake, as if driving away the weakness which assailed him at this +touching recollection. + +Listening to the captain's tales, Pierre--as often happens late in +the evening and under the influence of wine--followed all that was +told him, understood it all, and at the same time followed a train +of personal memories which, he knew not why, suddenly arose in his +mind. While listening to these love stories his own love for Natasha +unexpectedly rose to his mind, and going over the pictures of that +love in his imagination he mentally compared them with Ramballe's +tales. Listening to the story of the struggle between love and duty, +Pierre saw before his eyes every minutest detail of his last meeting +with the object of his love at the Sukharev water tower. At the time +of that meeting it had not produced an effect upon him--he had not +even once recalled it. But now it seemed to him that that meeting +had had in it something very important and poetic. + +"Peter Kirilovich, come here! We have recognized you," he now seemed +to hear the words she had uttered and to see before him her eyes, +her smile, her traveling hood, and a stray lock of her hair... and +there seemed to him something pathetic and touching in all this. + +Having finished his tale about the enchanting Polish lady, the +captain asked Pierre if he had ever experienced a similar impulse to +sacrifice himself for love and a feeling of envy of the legitimate +husband. + +Challenged by this question Pierre raised his head and felt a need +to express the thoughts that filled his mind. He began to explain that +he understood love for a women somewhat differently. He said that in +all his life he had loved and still loved only one woman, and that she +could never be his. + +"Tiens!" said the captain. + +Pierre then explained that he had loved this woman from his earliest +years, but that he had not dared to think of her because she was too +young, and because he had been an illegitimate son without a name. +Afterwards when he had received a name and wealth he dared not think +of her because he loved her too well, placing her far above everything +in the world, and especially therefore above himself. + +When he had reached this point, Pierre asked the captain whether +he understood that. + +The captain made a gesture signifying that even if he did not +understand it he begged Pierre to continue. + +"Platonic love, clouds..." he muttered. + +Whether it was the wine he had drunk, or an impulse of frankness, or +the thought that this man did not, and never would, know any of +those who played a part in his story, or whether it was all these +things together, something loosened Pierre's tongue. Speaking +thickly and with a faraway look in his shining eyes, he told the whole +story of his life: his marriage, Natasha's love for his best friend, +her betrayal of him, and all his own simple relations with her. +Urged on by Ramballe's questions he also told what he had at first +concealed--his own position and even his name. + +More than anything else in Pierre's story the captain was +impressed by the fact that Pierre was very rich, had two mansions in +Moscow, and that he had abandoned everything and not left the city, +but remained there concealing his name and station. + +When it was late at night they went out together into the street. +The night was warm and light. To the left of the house on the Pokrovka +a fire glowed--the first of those that were beginning in Moscow. To +the right and high up in the sky was the sickle of the waning moon and +opposite to it hung that bright comet which was connected in +Pierre's heart with his love. At the gate stood Gerasim, the cook, and +two Frenchmen. Their laughter and their mutually incomprehensible +remarks in two languages could be heard. They were looking at the glow +seen in the town. + +There was nothing terrible in the one small, distant fire in the +immense city. + +Gazing at the high starry sky, at the moon, at the comet, and at the +glow from the fire, Pierre experienced a joyful emotion. "There now, +how good it is, what more does one need?" thought he. And suddenly +remembering his intention he grew dizzy and felt so faint that he +leaned against the fence to save himself from falling. + +Without taking leave of his new friend, Pierre left the gate with +unsteady steps and returning to his room lay down on the sofa and +immediately fell asleep. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +The glow of the first fire that began on the second of September was +watched from the various roads by the fugitive Muscovites and by the +retreating troops, with many different feelings. + +The Rostov party spent the night at Mytishchi, fourteen miles from +Moscow. They had started so late on the first of September, the road +had been so blocked by vehicles and troops, so many things had been +forgotten for which servants were sent back, that they had decided +to spend that night at a place three miles out of Moscow. The next +morning they woke late and were again delayed so often that they +only got as far as Great Mytishchi. At ten o'clock that evening the +Rostov family and the wounded traveling with them were all distributed +in the yards and huts of that large village. The Rostovs' servants and +coachmen and the orderlies of the wounded officers, after attending to +their masters, had supper, fed the horses, and came out into the +porches. + +In a neighboring hut lay Raevski's adjutant with a fractured +wrist. The awful pain he suffered made him moan incessantly and +piteously, and his moaning sounded terrible in the darkness of the +autumn night. He had spent the first night in the same yard as the +Rostovs. The countess said she had been unable to close her eyes on +account of his moaning, and at Mytishchi she moved into a worse hut +simply to be farther away from the wounded man. + +In the darkness of the night one of the servants noticed, above +the high body of a coach standing before the porch, the small glow +of another fire. One glow had long been visible and everybody knew +that it was Little Mytishchi burning--set on fire by Mamonov's +Cossacks. + +"But look here, brothers, there's another fire!" remarked an +orderly. + +All turned their attention to the glow. + +"But they told us Little Mytishchi had been set on fire by Mamonov's +Cossacks." + +"But that's not Mytishchi, it's farther away." + +"Look, it must be in Moscow!" + +Two of the gazers went round to the other side of the coach and +sat down on its steps. + +"It's more to the left, why, Little Mytishchi is over there, and +this is right on the other side." + +Several men joined the first two. + +"See how it's flaring," said one. "That's a fire in Moscow: either +in the Sushchevski or the Rogozhski quarter." + +No one replied to this remark and for some time they all gazed +silently at the spreading flames of the second fire in the distance. + +Old Daniel Terentich, the count's valet (as he was called), came +up to the group and shouted at Mishka. + +"What are you staring at, you good-for-nothing?... The count will be +calling and there's nobody there; go and gather the clothes together." + +"I only ran out to get some water," said Mishka. + +"But what do you think, Daniel Terentich? Doesn't it look as if that +glow were in Moscow?" remarked one of the footmen. + +Daniel Terentich made no reply, and again for a long time they +were all silent. The glow spread, rising and failing, farther and +farther still. + +"God have mercy.... It's windy and dry..." said another voice. + +"Just look! See what it's doing now. O Lord! You can even see the +crows flying. Lord have mercy on us sinners!" + +"They'll put it out, no fear!" + +"Who's to put it out?" Daniel Terentich, who had hitherto been +silent, was heard to say. His voice was calm and deliberate. "Moscow +it is, brothers," said he. "Mother Moscow, the white..." his voice +faltered, and he gave way to an old man's sob. + +And it was as if they had all only waited for this to realize the +significance for them of the glow they were watching. Sighs were +heard, words of prayer, and the sobbing of the count's old valet. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +The valet, returning to the cottage, informed the count that +Moscow was burning. The count donned his dressing gown and went out to +look. Sonya and Madame Schoss, who had not yet undressed, went out +with him. Only Natasha and the countess remained in the room. Petya +was no longer with the family, he had gone on with his regiment +which was making for Troitsa. + +The countess, on hearing that Moscow was on fire, began to cry. +Natasha, pale, with a fixed look, was sitting on the bench under the +icons just where she had sat down on arriving and paid no attention to +her father's words. She was listening to the ceaseless moaning of +the adjutant, three houses off. + +"Oh, how terrible," said Sonya returning from the yard chilled and +frightened. "I believe the whole of Moscow will burn, there's an awful +glow! Natasha, do look! You can see it from the window," she said to +her cousin, evidently wishing to distract her mind. + +But Natasha looked at her as if not understanding what was said to +her and again fixed her eyes on the corner of the stove. She had +been in this condition of stupor since the morning, when Sonya, to the +surprise and annoyance of the countess, had for some unaccountable +reason found it necessary to tell Natasha of Prince Andrew's wound and +of his being with their party. The countess had seldom been so angry +with anyone as she was with Sonya. Sonya had cried and begged to be +forgiven and now, as if trying to atone for her fault, paid +unceasing attention to her cousin. + +"Look, Natasha, how dreadfully it is burning!" said she. + +"What's burning?" asked Natasha. "Oh, yes, Moscow." + +And as if in order not to offend Sonya and to get rid of her, she +turned her face to the window, looked out in such a way that it was +evident that she could not see anything, and again settled down in her +former attitude. + +"But you didn't see it!" + +"Yes, really I did," Natasha replied in a voice that pleaded to be +left in peace. + +Both the countess and Sonya understood that, naturally, neither +Moscow nor the burning of Moscow nor anything else could seem of +importance to Natasha. + +The count returned and lay down behind the partition. The countess +went up to her daughter and touched her head with the back of her hand +as she was wont to do when Natasha was ill, then touched her +forehead with her lips as if to feel whether she was feverish, and +finally kissed her. + +"You are cold. You are trembling all over. You'd better lie down," +said the countess. + +"Lie down? All right, I will. I'll lie down at once," said Natasha. + +When Natasha had been told that morning that Prince Andrew was +seriously wounded and was traveling with their party, she had at first +asked many questions: Where was he going? How was he wounded? Was it +serious? And could she see him? But after she had been told that she +could not see him, that he was seriously wounded but that his life was +not in danger, she ceased to ask questions or to speak at all, +evidently disbelieving what they told her, and convinced that say what +she might she would still be told the same. All the way she had sat +motionless in a corner of the coach with wide open eyes, and the +expression in them which the countess knew so well and feared so much, +and now she sat in the same way on the bench where she had seated +herself on arriving. She was planning something and either deciding or +had already decided something in her mind. The countess knew this, but +what it might be she did not know, and this alarmed and tormented her. + +"Natasha, undress, darling; lie down on my bed." + +A bed had been made on a bedstead for the countess only. Madame +Schoss and the two girls were to sleep on some hay on the floor. + +"No, Mamma, I will lie down here on the floor," Natasha replied +irritably and she went to the window and opened it. Through the open +window the moans of the adjutant could be heard more distinctly. She +put her head out into the damp night air, and the countess saw her +slim neck shaking with sobs and throbbing against the window frame. +Natasha knew it was not Prince Andrew who was moaning. She knew Prince +Andrew was in the same yard as themselves and in a part of the hut +across the passage; but this dreadful incessant moaning made her +sob. The countess exchanged a look with Sonya. + +"Lie down, darling; lie down, my pet," said the countess, softly +touching Natasha's shoulders. "Come, lie down." + +"Oh, yes... I'll lie down at once," said Natasha, and began +hurriedly undressing, tugging at the tapes of her petticoat. + +When she had thrown off her dress and put on a dressing jacket, +she sat down with her foot under her on the bed that had been made +up on the floor, jerked her thin and rather short plait of hair to the +front, and began replaiting it. Her long, thin, practiced fingers +rapidly unplaited, replaited, and tied up her plait. Her head moved +from side to side from habit, but her eyes, feverishly wide, looked +fixedly before her. When her toilet for the night was finished she +sank gently onto the sheet spread over the hay on the side nearest the +door. + +"Natasha, you'd better lie in the middle," said Sonya. + +"I'll stay here," muttered Natasha. "Do lie down," she added +crossly, and buried her face in the pillow. + +The countess, Madame Schoss, and Sonya undressed hastily and lay +down. The small lamp in front of the icons was the only light left +in the room. But in the yard there was a light from the fire at Little +Mytishchi a mile and a half away, and through the night came the noise +of people shouting at a tavern Mamonov's Cossacks had set up across +the street, and the adjutant's unceasing moans could still be heard. + +For a long time Natasha listened attentively to the sounds that +reached her from inside and outside the room and did not move. First +she heard her mother praying and sighing and the creaking of her bed +under her, then Madame Schoss' familiar whistling snore and Sonya's +gentle breathing. Then the countess called to Natasha. Natasha did not +answer. + +"I think she's asleep, Mamma," said Sonya softly. + +After short silence the countess spoke again but this time no one +replied. + +Soon after that Natasha heard her mother's even breathing. Natasha +did not move, though her little bare foot, thrust out from under the +quilt, was growing cold on the bare floor. + +As if to celebrate a victory over everybody, a cricket chirped in +a crack in the wall. A cock crowed far off and another replied near +by. The shouting in the tavern had died down; only the moaning of +the adjutant was heard. Natasha sat up. + +"Sonya, are you asleep? Mamma?" she whispered. + +No one replied. Natasha rose slowly and carefully, crossed +herself, and stepped cautiously on the cold and dirty floor with her +slim, supple, bare feet. The boards of the floor creaked. Stepping +cautiously from one foot to the other she ran like a kitten the few +steps to the door and grasped the cold door handle. + +It seemed to her that something heavy was beating rhythmically +against all the walls of the room: it was her own heart, sinking +with alarm and terror and overflowing with love. + +She opened the door and stepped across the threshold and onto the +cold, damp earthen floor of the passage. The cold she felt refreshed +her. With her bare feet she touched a sleeping man, stepped over +him, and opened the door into the part of the hut where Prince +Andrew lay. It was dark in there. In the farthest corner, on a bench +beside a bed on which something was lying, stood a tallow candle +with a long, thick, and smoldering wick. + +From the moment she had been told that of Prince Andrew's wound +and his presence there, Natasha had resolved to see him. She did not +know why she had to, she knew the meeting would be painful, but felt +the more convinced that it was necessary. + +All day she had lived only in hope of seeing him that night. But now +that the moment had come she was filled with dread of what she might +see. How was he maimed? What was left of him? Was he like that +incessant moaning of the adjutant's? Yes, he was altogether like that. +In her imagination he was that terrible moaning personified. When +she saw an indistinct shape in the corner, and mistook his knees +raised under the quilt for his shoulders, she imagined a horrible body +there, and stood still in terror. But an irresistible impulse drew her +forward. She cautiously took one step and then another, and found +herself in the middle of a small room containing baggage. Another man- +Timokhin--was lying in a corner on the benches beneath the icons, +and two others--the doctor and a valet--lay on the floor. + +The valet sat up and whispered something. Timokhin, kept awake by +the pain in his wounded leg, gazed with wide-open eyes at this strange +apparition of a girl in a white chemise, dressing jacket, and +nightcap. The valet's sleepy, frightened exclamation, "What do you +want? What's the matter?" made Natasha approach more swiftly to what +was lying in the corner. Horribly unlike a man as that body looked, +she must see him. She passed the valet, the snuff fell from the candle +wick, and she saw Prince Andrew clearly with his arms outside the +quilt, and such as she had always seen him. + +He was the same as ever, but the feverish color of his face, his +glittering eyes rapturously turned toward her, and especially his +neck, delicate as a child's, revealed by the turn-down collar of his +shirt, gave him a peculiarly innocent, childlike look, such as she had +never seen on him before. She went up to him and with a swift, +flexible, youthful movement dropped on her knees. + +He smiled and held out his hand to her. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +Seven days had passed since Prince Andrew found himself in the +ambulance station on the field of Borodino. His feverish state and the +inflammation of his bowels, which were injured, were in the doctor's +opinion sure to carry him off. But on the seventh day he ate with +pleasure a piece of bread with some tea, and the doctor noticed that +his temperature was lower. He had regained consciousness that morning. +The first night after they left Moscow had been fairly warm and he had +remained in the caleche, but at Mytishchi the wounded man himself +asked to be taken out and given some tea. The pain caused by his +removal into the hut had made him groan aloud and again lose +consciousness. When he had been placed on his camp bed he lay for a +long time motionless with closed eyes. Then he opened them and +whispered softly: "And the tea?" His remembering such a small detail +of everyday life astonished the doctor. He felt Prince Andrew's pulse, +and to his surprise and dissatisfaction found it had improved. He +was dissatisfied because he knew by experience that if his patient did +not die now, he would do so a little later with greater suffering. +Timokhin, the red-nosed major of Prince Andrew's regiment, had +joined him in Moscow and was being taken along with him, having been +wounded in the leg at the battle of Borodino. They were accompanied by +a doctor, Prince Andrew's valet, his coachman, and two orderlies. + +They gave Prince Andrew some tea. He drank it eagerly, looking +with feverish eyes at the door in front of him as if trying to +understand and remember something. + +"I don't want any more. Is Timokhin here?" he asked. + +Timokhin crept along the bench to him. + +"I am here, your excellency." + +"How's your wound?" + +"Mine, sir? All right. But how about you?" + +Prince Andrew again pondered as if trying to remember something. + +"Couldn't one get a book?" he asked. + +"What book?" + +"The Gospels. I haven't one." + +The doctor promised to procure it for him and began to ask how he +was feeling. Prince Andrew answered all his questions reluctantly +but reasonably, and then said he wanted a bolster placed under him +as he was uncomfortable and in great pain. The doctor and valet lifted +the cloak with which he was covered and, making wry faces at the +noisome smell of mortifying flesh that came from the wound, began +examining that dreadful place. The doctor was very much displeased +about something and made a change in the dressings, turning the +wounded man over so that he groaned again and grew unconscious and +delirious from the agony. He kept asking them to get him the book +and put it under him. + +"What trouble would it be to you?" he said. "I have not got one. +Please get it for me and put it under for a moment," he pleaded in a +piteous voice. + +The doctor went into the passage to wash his hands. + +"You fellows have no conscience," said he to the valet who was +pouring water over his hands. "For just one moment I didn't look after +you... It's such pain, you know, that I wonder how he can bear it." + +"By the Lord Jesus Christ, I thought we had put something under +him!" said the valet. + +The first time Prince Andrew understood where he was and what was +the matter with him and remembered being wounded and how was when he +asked to be carried into the hut after his caleche had stopped at +Mytishchi. After growing confused from pain while being carried into +the hut he again regained consciousness, and while drinking tea once +more recalled all that had happened to him, and above all vividly +remembered the moment at the ambulance station when, at the sight of +the sufferings of a man he disliked, those new thoughts had come to +him which promised him happiness. And those thoughts, though now vague +and indefinite, again possessed his soul. He remembered that he had +now a new source of happiness and that this happiness had something to +do with the Gospels. That was why he asked for a copy of them. The +uncomfortable position in which they had put him and turned him over +again confused his thoughts, and when he came to himself a third +time it was in the complete stillness of the night. Everybody near him +was sleeping. A cricket chirped from across the passage; someone was +shouting and singing in the street; cockroaches rustled on the +table, on the icons, and on the walls, and a big fly flopped at the +head of the bed and around the candle beside him, the wick of which +was charred and had shaped itself like a mushroom. + +His mind was not in a normal state. A healthy man usually thinks of, +feels, and remembers innumerable things simultaneously, but has the +power and will to select one sequence of thoughts or events on which +to fix his whole attention. A healthy man can tear himself away from +the deepest reflections to say a civil word to someone who comes in +and can then return again to his own thoughts. But Prince Andrew's +mind was not in a normal state in that respect. All the powers of +his mind were more active and clearer than ever, but they acted +apart from his will. Most diverse thoughts and images occupied him +simultaneously. At times his brain suddenly began to work with a +vigor, clearness, and depth it had never reached when he was in +health, but suddenly in the midst of its work it would turn to some +unexpected idea and he had not the strength to turn it back again. + +"Yes, a new happiness was revealed to me of which man cannot be +deprived," he thought as he lay in the semi-darkness of the quiet hut, +gazing fixedly before him with feverish wide open eyes. "A happiness +lying beyond material forces, outside the material influences that act +on man--a happiness of the soul alone, the happiness of loving. +Every man can understand it, but to conceive it and enjoin it was +possible only for God. But how did God enjoin that law? And why was +the Son...?" + +And suddenly the sequence of these thoughts broke off, and Prince +Andrew heard (without knowing whether it was a delusion or reality) +a soft whispering voice incessantly and rhythmically repeating +"piti-piti-piti," and then "titi," and then again "piti-piti-piti," +and "ti-ti" once more. At the same time he felt that above his face, +above the very middle of it, some strange airy structure was being +erected out of slender needles or splinters, to the sound of this +whispered music. He felt that he had to balance carefully (though it +was difficult) so that this airy structure should not collapse; but +nevertheless it kept collapsing and again slowly rising to the sound +of whispered rhythmic music--"it stretches, stretches, spreading out +and stretching," said Prince Andrew to himself. While listening to +this whispering and feeling the sensation of this drawing out and +the construction of this edifice of needles, he also saw by glimpses a +red halo round the candle, and heard the rustle of the cockroaches and +the buzzing of the fly that flopped against his pillow and his face. +Each time the fly touched his face it gave him a burning sensation and +yet to his surprise it did not destroy the structure, though it +knocked against the very region of his face where it was rising. But +besides this there was something else of importance. It was +something white by the door--the statue of a sphinx, which also +oppressed him. + +"But perhaps that's my shirt on the table," he thought, "and +that's my legs, and that is the door, but why is it always +stretching and drawing itself out, and 'piti-piti-piti' and 'ti-ti' +and 'piti-piti-piti'...? That's enough, please leave off!" Prince +Andrew painfully entreated someone. And suddenly thoughts and feelings +again swam to the surface of his mind with peculiar clearness and +force. + +"Yes--love," he thought again quite clearly. "But not love which +loves for something, for some quality, for some purpose, or for some +reason, but the love which I--while dying--first experienced when I +saw my enemy and yet loved him. I experienced that feeling of love +which is the very essence of the soul and does not require an +object. Now again I feel that bliss. To love one's neighbors, to +love one's enemies, to love everything, to love God in all His +manifestations. It is possible to love someone dear to you with +human love, but an enemy can only be loved by divine love. That is why +I experienced such joy when I felt that I loved that man. What has +become of him? Is he alive?... + +"When loving with human love one may pass from love to hatred, but +divine love cannot change. No, neither death nor anything else can +destroy it. It is the very essence of the soul. Yet how many people +have I hated in my life? And of them all, I loved and hated none as +I did her." And he vividly pictured to himself Natasha, not as he +had done in the past with nothing but her charms which gave him +delight, but for the first time picturing to himself her soul. And +he understood her feelings, her sufferings, shame, and remorse. He now +understood for the first time all the cruelty of his rejection of her, +the cruelty of his rupture with her. "If only it were possible for +me to see her once more! Just once, looking into those eyes to say..." + + +"Piti-piti-piti and ti-ti and piti-piti-piti boom!" flopped the +fly... And his attention was suddenly carried into another world, a +world of reality and delirium in which something particular was +happening. In that world some structure was still being erected and +did not fall, something was still stretching out, and the candle +with its red halo was still burning, and the same shirtlike sphinx lay +near the door; but besides all this something creaked, there was a +whiff of fresh air, and a new white sphinx appeared, standing at the +door. And that sphinx had the pale face and shining eyes of the very +Natasha of whom he had just been thinking. + +"Oh, how oppressive this continual delirium is," thought Prince +Andrew, trying to drive that face from his imagination. But the face +remained before him with the force of reality and drew nearer. +Prince Andrew wished to return that former world of pure thought, +but he could not, and delirium drew him back into its domain. The soft +whispering voice continued its rhythmic murmur, something oppressed +him and stretched out, and the strange face was before him. Prince +Andrew collected all his strength in an effort to recover his +senses, he moved a little, and suddenly there was a ringing in his +ears, a dimness in his eyes, and like a man plunged into water he lost +consciousness. When he came to himself, Natasha, that same living +Natasha whom of all people he most longed to love with this new pure +divine love that had been revealed to him, was kneeling before him. He +realized that it was the real living Natasha, and he was not surprised +but quietly happy. Natasha, motionless on her knees (she was unable to +stir), with frightened eyes riveted on him, was restraining her +sobs. Her face was pale and rigid. Only in the lower part of it +something quivered. + +Prince Andrew sighed with relief, smiled, and held out his hand. + +"You?" he said. "How fortunate!" + +With a rapid but careful movement Natasha drew nearer to him on +her knees and, taking his hand carefully, bent her face over it and +began kissing it, just touching it lightly with her lips. + +"Forgive me!" she whispered, raising her head and glancing at him. +"Forgive me!" + +"I love you," said Prince Andrew. + +"Forgive...!" + +"Forgive what?" he asked. + +"Forgive me for what I ha-ve do-ne!" faltered Natasha in a +scarcely audible, broken whisper, and began kissing his hand more +rapidly, just touching it with her lips. + +"I love you more, better than before," said Prince Andrew, lifting +her face with his hand so as to look into her eyes. + +Those eyes, filled with happy tears, gazed at him timidly, +compassionately, and with joyous love. Natasha's thin pale face, +with its swollen lips, was more than plain--it was dreadful. But +Prince Andrew did not see that, he saw her shining eyes which were +beautiful. They heard the sound of voices behind them. + +Peter the valet, who was now wide awake, had roused the doctor. +Timokhin, who had not slept at all because of the pain in his leg, had +long been watching all that was going on, carefully covering his +bare body with the sheet as he huddled up on his bench. + +"What's this?" said the doctor, rising from his bed. "Please go +away, madam!" + +At that moment a maid sent by the countess, who had noticed her +daughter's absence, knocked at the door. + +Like a somnambulist aroused from her sleep Natasha went out of the +room and, returning to her hut, fell sobbing on her bed. + + +From that time, during all the rest of the Rostovs' journey, at +every halting place and wherever they spent a night, Natasha never +left the wounded Bolkonski, and the doctor had to admit that he had +not expected from a young girl either such firmness or such skill in +nursing a wounded man. + +Dreadful as the countess imagined it would be should Prince Andrew +die in her daughter's arms during the journey--as, judging by what the +doctor said, it seemed might easily happen--she could not oppose +Natasha. Though with the intimacy now established between the +wounded man and Natasha the thought occurred that should he recover +their former engagement would be renewed, no one--least of all Natasha +and Prince Andrew--spoke of this: the unsettled question of life and +death, which hung not only over Bolkonski but over all Russia, shut +out all other considerations. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +On the third of September Pierre awoke late. His head was aching, +the clothes in which he had slept without undressing felt +uncomfortable on his body, and his mind had a dim consciousness of +something shameful he had done the day before. That something shameful +was his yesterday's conversation with Captain Ramballe. + +It was eleven by the clock, but it seemed peculiarly dark out of +doors. Pierre rose, rubbed his eyes, and seeing the pistol with an +engraved stock which Gerasim had replaced on the writing table, he +remembered where he was and what lay before him that very day. + +"Am I not too late?" he thought. "No, probably he won't make his +entry into Moscow before noon." + +Pierre did not allow himself to reflect on what lay before him, +but hastened to act. + +After arranging his clothes, he took the pistol and was about to +go out. But it then occurred to him for the first time that he +certainly could not carry the weapon in his hand through the +streets. It was difficult to hide such a big pistol even under his +wide coat. He could not carry it unnoticed in his belt or under his +arm. Besides, it had been discharged, and he had not had time to +reload it. "No matter, dagger will do," he said to himself, though +when planning his design he had more than once come to the +conclusion that the chief mistake made by the student in 1809 had been +to try to kill Napoleon with a dagger. But as his chief aim +consisted not in carrying out his design, but in proving to himself +that he would not abandon his intention and was doing all he could +to achieve it, Pierre hastily took the blunt jagged dagger in a +green sheath which he had bought at the Sukharev market with the +pistol, and hid it under his waistcoat. + +Having tied a girdle over his coat and pulled his cap low on his +head, Pierre went down the corridor, trying to avoid making a noise or +meeting the captain, and passed out into the street. + +The conflagration, at which he had looked with so much +indifference the evening before, had greatly increased during the +night. Moscow was on fire in several places. The buildings in Carriage +Row, across the river, in the Bazaar and the Povarskoy, as well as the +barges on the Moskva River and the timber yards by the Dorogomilov +Bridge, were all ablaze. + +Pierre's way led through side streets to the Povarskoy and from +there to the church of St. Nicholas on the Arbat, where he had long +before decided that the deed should should be done. The gates of +most of the houses were locked and the shutters up. The streets and +lanes were deserted. The air was full of smoke and the smell of +burning. Now and then he met Russians with anxious and timid faces, +and Frenchmen with an air not of the city but of the camp, walking +in the middle of the streets. Both the Russians and the French +looked at Pierre with surprise. Besides his height and stoutness, +and the strange morose look of suffering in his face and whole figure, +the Russians stared at Pierre because they could not make out to +what class he could belong. The French followed him with +astonishment in their eyes chiefly because Pierre, unlike all the +other Russians who gazed at the French with fear and curiosity, paid +no attention to them. At the gate of one house three Frenchmen, who +were explaining something to some Russians who did not understand +them, stopped Pierre asking if he did not know French. + +Pierre shook his head and went on. In another side street a sentinel +standing beside a green caisson shouted at him, but only when the +shout was threateningly repeated and he heard the click of the man's +musket as he raised it did Pierre understand that he had to pass on +the other side of the street. He heard nothing and saw nothing of what +went on around him. He carried his resolution within himself in terror +and haste, like something dreadful and alien to him, for, after the +previous night's experience, he was afraid of losing it. But he was +not destined to bring his mood safely to his destination. And even had +he not been hindered by anything on the way, his intention could not +now have been carried out, for Napoleon had passed the Arbat more than +four hours previously on his way from the Dorogomilov suburb to the +Kremlin, and was now sitting in a very gloomy frame of mind in a royal +study in the Kremlin, giving detailed and exact orders as to +measures to be taken immediately to extinguish the fire, to prevent +looting, and to reassure the inhabitants. But Pierre did not know +this; he was entirely absorbed in what lay before him, and was +tortured--as those are who obstinately undertake a task that is +impossible for them not because of its difficulty but because of its +incompatibility with their natures--by the fear of weakening at the +decisive moment and so losing his self-esteem. + +Though he heard and saw nothing around him he found his way by +instinct and did not go wrong in the side streets that led to the +Povarskoy. + +As Pierre approached that street the smoke became denser and denser- +he even felt the heat of the fire. Occasionally curly tongues of flame +rose from under the roofs of the houses. He met more people in the +streets and they were more excited. But Pierre, though he felt that +something unusual was happening around him, did not realize that he +was approaching the fire. As he was going along a foot path across a +wide-open space adjoining the Povarskoy on one side and the gardens of +Prince Gruzinski's house on the other, Pierre suddenly heard the +desperate weeping of a woman close to him. He stopped as if +awakening from a dream and lifted his head. + +By the side of the path, on the dusty dry grass, all sorts of +household goods lay in a heap: featherbeds, a samovar, icons, and +trunks. On the ground, beside the trunks, sat a thin woman no longer +young, with long, prominent upper teeth, and wearing a black cloak and +cap. This woman, swaying to and fro and muttering something, was +choking with sobs. Two girls of about ten and twelve, dressed in dirty +short frocks and cloaks, were staring at their mother with a look of +stupefaction on their pale frightened faces. The youngest child, a boy +of about seven, who wore an overcoat and an immense cap evidently +not his own, was crying in his old nurse's arms. A dirty, barefooted +maid was sitting on a trunk, and, having undone her pale-colored +plait, was pulling it straight and sniffing at her singed hair. The +woman's husband, a short, round-shouldered man in the undress +uniform of a civilian official, with sausage-shaped whiskers and +showing under his square-set cap the hair smoothly brushed forward +over his temples, with expressionless face was moving the trunks, +which were placed one on another, and was dragging some garments +from under them. + +As soon as she saw Pierre, the woman almost threw herself at his +feet. + +"Dear people, good Christians, save me, help me, dear friends... +help us, somebody," she muttered between her sobs. "My girl... My +daughter! My youngest daughter is left behind. She's burned! Ooh! +Was it for this I nursed you.... Ooh!" + +"Don't, Mary Nikolievna!" said her husband to her in a low voice, +evidently only to justify himself before the stranger. "Sister must +have taken her, or else where can she be?" he added. + +"Monster! Villain!" shouted the woman angrily, suddenly ceasing to +weep. "You have no heart, you don't feel for your own child! Another +man would have rescued her from the fire. But this is a monster and +neither a man nor a father! You, honored sir, are a noble man," she +went on, addressing Pierre rapidly between her sobs. "The fire broke +out alongside, and blew our way, the maid called out 'Fire!' and we +rushed to collect our things. We ran out just as we were.... This is +what we have brought away.... The icons, and my dowry bed, all the +rest is lost. We seized the children. But not Katie! Ooh! O +Lord!..." and again she began to sob. "My child, my dear one! +Burned, burned!" + +"But where was she left?" asked Pierre. + +From the expression of his animated face the woman saw that this man +might help her. + +"Oh, dear sir!" she cried, seizing him by the legs. "My +benefactor, set my heart at ease.... Aniska, go, you horrid girl, show +him the way!" she cried to the maid, angrily opening her mouth and +still farther exposing her long teeth. + +"Show me the way, show me, I... I'll do it," gasped Pierre rapidly. + +The dirty maidservant stepped from behind the trunk, put up her +plait, sighed, and went on her short, bare feet along the path. Pierre +felt as if he had come back to life after a heavy swoon. He held his +head higher, his eyes shone with the light of life, and with swift +steps he followed the maid, overtook her, and came out on the +Povarskoy. The whole street was full of clouds of black smoke. Tongues +of flame here and there broke through that cloud. A great number of +people crowded in front of the conflagration. In the middle of the +street stood a French general saying something to those around him. +Pierre, accompanied by the maid, was advancing to the spot where the +general stood, but the French soldiers stopped him. + +"On ne passe pas!"* cried a voice. + + +*"You can't pass! + + +"This way, uncle," cried the girl. "We'll pass through the side +street, by the Nikulins'!" + +Pierre turned back, giving a spring now and then to keep up with +her. She ran across the street, turned down a side street to the left, +and, passing three houses, turned into a yard on the right. + +"It's here, close by," said she and, running across the yard, opened +a gate in a wooden fence and, stopping, pointed out to him a small +wooden wing of the house, which was burning brightly and fiercely. One +of its sides had fallen in, another was on fire, and bright flames +issued from the openings of the windows and from under the roof. + +As Pierre passed through the fence gate, he was enveloped by hot air +and involuntarily stopped. + +"Which is it? Which is your house?" he asked. + +"Ooh!" wailed the girl, pointing to the wing. "That's it, that was +our lodging. You've burned to death, our treasure, Katie, my +precious little missy! Ooh!" lamented Aniska, who at the sight of +the fire felt that she too must give expression to her feelings. + +Pierre rushed to the wing, but the heat was so great that he +involuntarily passed round in a curve and came upon the large house +that was as yet burning only at one end, just below the roof, and +around which swarmed a crowd of Frenchmen. At first Pierre did not +realize what these men, who were dragging something out, were about; +but seeing before him a Frenchman hitting a peasant with a blunt saber +and trying to take from him a fox-fur coat, he vaguely understood that +looting was going on there, but he had no time to dwell on that idea. + +The sounds of crackling and the din of falling walls and ceilings, +the whistle and hiss of the flames, the excited shouts of the +people, and the sight of the swaying smoke, now gathering into thick +black clouds and now soaring up with glittering sparks, with here +and there dense sheaves of flame (now red and now like golden fish +scales creeping along the walls), and the heat and smoke and +rapidity of motion, produced on Pierre the usual animating effects +of a conflagration. It had a peculiarly strong effect on him because +at the sight of the fire he felt himself suddenly freed from the ideas +that had weighed him down. He felt young, bright, adroit, and +resolute. He ran round to the other side of the lodge and was about to +dash into that part of it which was still standing, when just above +his head he heard several voices shouting and then a cracking sound +and the ring of something heavy falling close beside him. + +Pierre looked up and saw at a window of the large house some +Frenchmen who had just thrown out the drawer of a chest, filled with +metal articles. Other French soldiers standing below went up to the +drawer. + +"What does this fellow want?" shouted one of them referring to +Pierre. + +"There's a child in that house. Haven't you seen a child?" cried +Pierre. + +"What's he talking about? Get along!" said several voices, and one +of the soldiers, evidently afraid that Pierre might want to take +from them some of the plate and bronzes that were in the drawer, moved +threateningly toward him. + +"A child?" shouted a Frenchman from above. "I did hear something +squealing in the garden. Perhaps it's his brat that the fellow is +looking for. After all, one must be human, you know...." + +"Where is it? Where?" said Pierre. + +"There! There!" shouted the Frenchman at the window, pointing to the +garden at the back of the house. "Wait a bit--I'm coming down." + +And a minute or two later the Frenchman, a black-eyed fellow with +a spot on his cheek, in shirt sleeves, really did jump out of a window +on the ground floor, and clapping Pierre on the shoulder ran with +him into the garden. + +"Hurry up, you others!" he called out to his comrades. "It's getting +hot." + +When they reached a gravel path behind the house the Frenchman +pulled Pierre by the arm and pointed to a round, graveled space +where a three-year-old girl in a pink dress was lying under a seat. + +"There is your child! Oh, a girl, so much the better!" said the +Frenchman. "Good-by, Fatty. We must be human, we are all mortal you +know!" and the Frenchman with the spot on his cheek ran back to his +comrades. + +Breathless with joy, Pierre ran to the little girl and was going +to take her in his arms. But seeing a stranger the sickly, +scrofulous-looking child, unattractively like her mother, began to +yell and run away. Pierre, however, seized her and lifted her in his +arms. She screamed desperately and angrily and tried with her little +hands to pull Pierre's hands away and to bite them with her slobbering +mouth. Pierre was seized by a sense of horror and repulsion such as he +had experienced when touching some nasty little animal. But he made an +effort not to throw the child down and ran with her to the large +house. It was now, however, impossible to get back the way he had +come; the maid, Aniska, was no longer there, and Pierre with a feeling +of pity and disgust pressed the wet, painfully sobbing child to +himself as tenderly as he could and ran with her through the garden +seeking another way out. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +Having run through different yards and side streets, Pierre got back +with his little burden to the Gruzinski garden at the corner of the +Povarskoy. He did not at first recognize the place from which he had +set out to look for the child, so crowded was it now with people and +goods that had been dragged out of the houses. Besides Russian +families who had taken refuge here from the fire with their +belongings, there were several French soldiers in a variety of +clothing. Pierre took no notice of them. He hurried to find the family +of that civil servant in order to restore the daughter to her mother +and go to save someone else. Pierre felt that he had still much to +do and to do quickly. Glowing with the heat and from running, he +felt at that moment more strongly than ever the sense of youth, +animation, and determination that had come on him when he ran to +save the child. She had now become quiet and, clinging with her little +hands to Pierre's coat, sat on his arm gazing about her like some +little wild animal. He glanced at her occasionally with a slight +smile. He fancied he saw something pathetically innocent in that +frightened, sickly little face. + +He did not find the civil servant or his wife where he had left +them. He walked among the crowd with rapid steps, scanning the various +faces he met. Involuntarily he noticed a Georgian or Armenian family +consisting of a very handsome old man of Oriental type, wearing a new, +cloth-covered, sheepskin coat and new boots, an old woman of similar +type, and a young woman. That very young woman seemed to Pierre the +perfection of Oriental beauty, with her sharply outlined, arched, +black eyebrows and the extraordinarily soft, bright color of her long, +beautiful, expressionless face. Amid the scattered property and the +crowd on the open space, she, in her rich satin cloak with a bright +lilac shawl on her head, suggested a delicate exotic plant thrown +out onto the snow. She was sitting on some bundles a little behind the +old woman, and looked from under her long lashes with motionless, +large, almond-shaped eyes at the ground before her. Evidently she +was aware of her beauty and fearful because of it. Her face struck +Pierre and, hurrying along by the fence, he turned several times to +look at her. When he had reached the fence, still without finding +those he sought, he stopped and looked about him. + +With the child in his arms his figure was now more conspicuous +than before, and a group of Russians, both men and women, gathered +about him. + +"Have you lost anyone, my dear fellow? You're of the gentry +yourself, aren't you? Whose child is it?" they asked him. + +Pierre replied that the child belonged to a woman in a black coat +who had been sitting there with her other children, and he asked +whether anyone knew where she had gone. + +"Why, that must be the Anferovs," said an old deacon, addressing a +pockmarked peasant woman. "Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy!" he added +in his customary bass. + +"The Anferovs? No," said the woman. "They left in the morning. +That must be either Mary Nikolievna's or the Ivanovs'!" + +"He says 'a woman,' and Mary Nikolievna is a lady," remarked a house +serf. + +"Do you know her? She's thin, with long teeth," said Pierre. + +"That's Mary Nikolievna! They went inside the garden when these +wolves swooped down," said the woman, pointing to the French soldiers. + +"O Lord, have mercy!" added the deacon. + +"Go over that way, they're there. It's she! She kept on lamenting +and crying," continued the woman. "It's she. Here, this way!" + +But Pierre was not listening to the woman. He had for some seconds +been intently watching what was going on a few steps away. He was +looking at the Armenian family and at two French soldiers who had gone +up to them. One of these, a nimble little man, was wearing a blue coat +tied round the waist with a rope. He had a nightcap on his head and +his feet were bare. The other, whose appearance particularly struck +Pierre, was a long, lank, round-shouldered, fair-haired man, slow in +his movements and with an idiotic expression of face. He wore a +woman's loose gown of frieze, blue trousers, and large torn Hessian +boots. The little barefooted Frenchman in the blue coat went up to the +Armenians and, saying something, immediately seized the old man by his +legs and the old man at once began pulling off his boots. The other in +the frieze gown stopped in front of the beautiful Armenian girl and +with his hands in his pockets stood staring at her, motionless and +silent. + +"Here, take the child!" said Pierre peremptorily and hurriedly to +the woman, handing the little girl to her. "Give her back to them, +give her back!" he almost shouted, putting the child, who began +screaming, on the ground, and again looking at the Frenchman and the +Armenian family. + +The old man was already sitting barefoot. The little Frenchman had +secured his second boot and was slapping one boot against the other. +The old man was saying something in a voice broken by sobs, but Pierre +caught but a glimpse of this, his whole attention was directed to +the Frenchman in the frieze gown who meanwhile, swaying slowly from +side to side, had drawn nearer to the young woman and taking his hands +from his pockets had seized her by the neck. + +The beautiful Armenian still sat motionless and in the same +attitude, with her long lashes drooping as if she did not see or +feel what the soldier was doing to her. + +While Pierre was running the few steps that separated him from the +Frenchman, the tall marauder in the frieze gown was already tearing +from her neck the necklace the young Armenian was wearing, and the +young woman, clutching at her neck, screamed piercingly. + +"Let that woman alone!" exclaimed Pierre hoarsely in a furious +voice, seizing the soldier by his round shoulders and throwing him +aside. + +The soldier fell, got up, and ran away. But his comrade, throwing +down the boots and drawing his sword, moved threateningly toward +Pierre. + +"Voyons, Pas de betises!"* he cried. + + +*"Look here, no nonsense!" + + +Pierre was in such a transport of rage that he remembered nothing +and his strength increased tenfold. He rushed at the barefooted +Frenchman and, before the latter had time to draw his sword, knocked +him off his feet and hammered him with his fists. Shouts of approval +were heard from the crowd around, and at the same moment a mounted +patrol of French Uhlans appeared from round the corner. The Uhlans +came up at a trot to Pierre and the Frenchman and surrounded them. +Pierre remembered nothing of what happened after that. He only +remembered beating someone and being beaten and finally feeling that +his hands were bound and that a crowd of French soldiers stood +around him and were searching him. + +"Lieutenant, he has a dagger," were the first words Pierre +understood. + +"Ah, a weapon?" said the officer and turned to the barefooted +soldier who had been arrested with Pierre. "All right, you can tell +all about it at the court-martial." Then he turned to Pierre. "Do +you speak French?" + +Pierre looked around him with bloodshot eyes and did not reply. +His face probably looked very terrible, for the officer said something +in a whisper and four more Uhlans left the ranks and placed themselves +on both sides of Pierre. + +"Do you speak French?" the officer asked again, keeping at a +distance from Pierre. "Call the interpreter." + +A little man in Russian civilian clothes rode out from the ranks, +and by his clothes and manner of speaking Pierre at once knew him to +be a French salesman from one of the Moscow shops. + +"He does not look like a common man," said the interpreter, after +a searching look at Pierre. + +"Ah, he looks very much like an incendiary," remarked the officer. +"And ask him who he is," he added. + +"Who are you?" asked the interpreter in poor Russian. "You must +answer the chief." + +"I will not tell you who I am. I am your prisoner--take me!" +Pierre suddenly replied in French. + +"Ah, ah!" muttered the officer with a frown. "Well then, march!" + +A crowd had collected round the Uhlans. Nearest to Pierre stood +the pockmarked peasant woman with the little girl, and when the patrol +started she moved forward. + +"Where are they taking you to, you poor dear?" said she. "And the +little girl, the little girl, what am I to do with her if she's not +theirs?" said the woman. + +"What does that woman want?" asked the officer. + +Pierre was as if intoxicated. His elation increased at the sight +of the little girl he had saved. + +"What does she want?" he murmured. "She is bringing me my daughter +whom I have just saved from the flames," said he. "Good-by!" And +without knowing how this aimless lie had escaped him, he went along +with resolute and triumphant steps between the French soldiers. + +The French patrol was one of those sent out through the various +streets of Moscow by Durosnel's order to put a stop to the pillage, +and especially to catch the incendiaries who, according to the general +opinion which had that day originated among the higher French +officers, were the cause of the conflagrations. After marching through +a number of streets the patrol arrested five more Russian suspects: +a small shopkeeper, two seminary students, a peasant, and a house +serf, besides several looters. But of all these various suspected +characters, Pierre was considered to be the most suspicious of all. +When they had all been brought for the night to a large house on the +Zubov Rampart that was being used as a guardhouse, Pierre was placed +apart under strict guard. + + + + + +BOOK TWELVE: 1812 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +In Petersburg at that time a complicated struggle was being +carried on with greater heat than ever in the highest circles, between +the parties of Rumyantsev, the French, Marya Fedorovna, the Tsarevich, +and others, drowned as usual by the buzzing of the court drones. But +the calm, luxurious life of Petersburg, concerned only about +phantoms and reflections of real life, went on in its old way and made +it hard, except by a great effort, to realize the danger and the +difficult position of the Russian people. There were the same +receptions and balls, the same French theater, the same court +interests and service interests and intrigues as usual. Only in the +very highest circles were attempts made to keep in mind the +difficulties of the actual position. Stories were whispered of how +differently the two Empresses behaved in these difficult +circumstances. The Empress Marya, concerned for the welfare of the +charitable and educational institutions under her patronage, had given +directions that they should all be removed to Kazan, and the things +belonging to these institutions had already been packed up. The +Empress Elisabeth, however, when asked what instructions she would +be pleased to give--with her characteristic Russian patriotism had +replied that she could give no directions about state institutions for +that was the affair of the sovereign, but as far as she personally was +concerned she would be the last to quit Petersburg. + +At Anna Pavlovna's on the twenty-sixth of August, the very day of +the battle of Borodino, there was a soiree, the chief feature of which +was to be the reading of a letter from His Lordship the Bishop when +sending the Emperor an icon of the Venerable Sergius. It was +regarded as a model of ecclesiastical, patriotic eloquence. Prince +Vasili himself, famed for his elocution, was to read it. (He used to +read at the Empress'.) The art of his reading was supposed to lie in +rolling out the words, quite independently of their meaning, in a loud +and singsong voice alternating between a despairing wail and a +tender murmur, so that the wail fell quite at random on one word and +the murmur on another. This reading, as was always the case at Anna +Pavlovna's soirees, had a political significance. That evening she +expected several important personages who had to be made ashamed of +their visits to the French theater and aroused to a patriotic +temper. A good many people had already arrived, but Anna Pavlovna, not +yet seeing all those whom she wanted in her drawing room, did not +let the reading begin but wound up the springs of a general +conversation. + +The news of the day in Petersburg was the illness of Countess +Bezukhova. She had fallen ill unexpectedly a few days previously, +had missed several gatherings of which she was usually ornament, and +was said to be receiving no one, and instead of the celebrated +Petersburg doctors who usually attended her had entrusted herself to +some Italian doctor who was treating her in some new and unusual way. + +They all knew very well that the enchanting countess' illness +arose from an inconvenience resulting from marrying two husbands at +the same time, and that the Italian's cure consisted in removing +such inconvenience; but in Anna Pavlovna's presence no one dared to +think of this or even appear to know it. + +"They say the poor countess is very ill. The doctor says it is +angina pectoris." + +"Angina? Oh, that's a terrible illness!" + +"They say that the rivals are reconciled, thanks to the angina..." +and the word angina was repeated with great satisfaction. + +"The count is pathetic, they say. He cried like a child when the +doctor told him the case was dangerous." + +"Oh, it would be a terrible loss, she is an enchanting woman." + +"You are speaking of the poor countess?" said Anna Pavlovna, +coming up just then. "I sent to ask for news, and hear that she is a +little better. Oh, she is certainly the most charming woman in the +world," she went on, with a smile at her own enthusiasm. "We belong to +different camps, but that does not prevent my esteeming her as she +deserves. She is very unfortunate!" added Anna Pavlovna. + +Supposing that by these words Anna Pavlovna was somewhat lifting the +veil from the secret of the countess' malady, an unwary young man +ventured to express surprise that well known doctors had not been +called in and that the countess was being attended by a charlatan +who might employ dangerous remedies. + +"Your information maybe better than mine," Anna Pavlovna suddenly +and venomously retorted on the inexperienced young man, "but I know on +good authority that this doctor is a very learned and able man. He +is private physician to the Queen of Spain." + +And having thus demolished the young man, Anna Pavlovna turned to +another group where Bilibin was talking about the Austrians: having +wrinkled up his face he was evidently preparing to smooth it out again +and utter one of his mots. + +"I think it is delightful," he said, referring to a diplomatic +note that had been sent to Vienna with some Austrian banners +captured from the French by Wittgenstein, "the hero of Petropol" as he +was then called in Petersburg. + +"What? What's that?" asked Anna Pavlovna, securing silence for the +mot, which she had heard before. + +And Bilibin repeated the actual words of the diplomatic dispatch, +which he had himself composed. + +"The Emperor returns these Austrian banners," said Bilibin, +"friendly banners gone astray and found on a wrong path," and his brow +became smooth again. + +"Charming, charming!" observed Prince Vasili. + +"The path to Warsaw, perhaps," Prince Hippolyte remarked loudly +and unexpectedly. Everybody looked at him, understanding what he +meant. Prince Hippolyte himself glanced around with amused surprise. +He knew no more than the others what his words meant. During his +diplomatic career he had more than once noticed that such utterances +were received as very witty, and at every opportunity he uttered in +that way the first words that entered his head. "It may turn out +very well," he thought, "but if not, they'll know how to arrange +matters." And really, during the awkward silence that ensued, that +insufficiently patriotic person entered whom Anna Pavlovna had been +waiting for and wished to convert, and she, smiling and shaking a +finger at Hippolyte, invited Prince Vasili to the table and bringing +him two candles and the manuscript begged him to begin. Everyone +became silent. + + +"Most Gracious Sovereign and Emperor!" Prince Vasili sternly +declaimed, looking round at his audience as if to inquire whether +anyone had anything to say to the contrary. But no one said +anything. "Moscow, our ancient capital, the New Jerusalem, receives +her Christ"--he placed a sudden emphasis on the word her--"as a mother +receives her zealous sons into her arms, and through the gathering +mists, foreseeing the brilliant glory of thy rule, sings in +exultation, 'Hosanna, blessed is he that cometh!'" + + +Prince Vasili pronounced these last words in a tearful voice. + +Bilibin attentively examined his nails, and many of those present +appeared intimidated, as if asking in what they were to blame. Anna +Pavlovna whispered the next words in advance, like an old woman +muttering the prayer at Communion: "Let the bold and insolent +Goliath..." she whispered. + +Prince Vasili continued. + + +"Let the bold and insolent Goliath from the borders of France +encompass the realms of Russia with death-bearing terrors; humble +Faith, the sling of the Russian David, shall suddenly smite his head +in his blood-thirsty pride. This icon of the Venerable Sergius, the +servant of God and zealous champion of old of our country's weal, is +offered to Your Imperial Majesty. I grieve that my waning strength +prevents rejoicing in the sight of your most gracious presence. I +raise fervent prayers to Heaven that the Almighty may exalt the race +of the just, and mercifully fulfill the desires of Your Majesty." + + +"What force! What a style!" was uttered in approval both of reader +and of author. + +Animated by that address Anna Pavlovna's guests talked for a long +time of the state of the fatherland and offered various conjectures as +to the result of the battle to be fought in a few days. + +"You will see," said Anna Pavlovna, "that tomorrow, on the Emperor's +birthday, we shall receive news. I have a favorable presentiment!" + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Anna Pavlovna's presentiment was in fact fulfilled. Next day +during the service at the palace church in honor of the Emperor's +birthday, Prince Volkonski was called out of the church and received a +dispatch from Prince Kutuzov. It was Kutuzov's report, written from +Tatarinova on the day of the battle. Kutuzov wrote that the Russians +had not retreated a step, that the French losses were much heavier +than ours, and that he was writing in haste from the field of battle +before collecting full information. It followed that there must have +been a victory. And at once, without leaving the church, thanks were +rendered to the Creator for His help and for the victory. + +Anna Pavlovna's presentiment was justified, and all that morning a +joyously festive mood reigned in the city. Everyone believed the +victory to have been complete, and some even spoke of Napoleon's +having been captured, of his deposition, and of the choice of a new +ruler for France. + +It is very difficult for events to be reflected in their real +strength and completeness amid the conditions of court life and far +from the scene of action. General events involuntarily group +themselves around some particular incident. So now the courtiers' +pleasure was based as much on the fact that the news had arrived on +the Emperor's birthday as on the fact of the victory itself. It was +like a successfully arranged surprise. Mention was made in Kutuzov's +report of the Russian losses, among which figured the names of +Tuchkov, Bagration, and Kutaysov. In the Petersburg world this sad +side of the affair again involuntarily centered round a single +incident: Kutaysov's death. Everybody knew him, the Emperor liked him, +and he was young and interesting. That day everyone met with the +words: + +"What a wonderful coincidence! Just during the service. But what a +loss Kutaysov is! How sorry I am!" + +"What did I tell about Kutuzov?" Prince Vasili now said with a +prophet's pride. "I always said he was the only man capable of +defeating Napoleon." + +But next day no news arrived from the army and the public mood +grew anxious. The courtiers suffered because of the suffering the +suspense occasioned the Emperor. + +"Fancy the Emperor's position!" said they, and instead of +extolling Kutuzov as they had done the day before, they condemned +him as the cause of the Emperor's anxiety. That day Prince Vasili no +longer boasted of his protege Kutuzov, but remained silent when the +commander in chief was mentioned. Moreover, toward evening, as if +everything conspired to make Petersburg society anxious and uneasy, +a terrible piece of news was added. Countess Helene Bezukhova had +suddenly died of that terrible malady it had been so agreeable to +mention. Officially, at large gatherings, everyone said that +Countess Bezukhova had died of a terrible attack of angina pectoris, +but in intimate circles details were mentioned of how the private +physician of the Queen of Spain had prescribed small doses of a +certain drug to produce a certain effect; but Helene, tortured by +the fact that the old count suspected her and that her husband to whom +she had written (that wretched, profligate Pierre) had not replied, +had suddenly taken a very large dose of the drug, and had died in +agony before assistance could be rendered her. It was said that Prince +Vasili and the old count had turned upon the Italian, but the latter +had produced such letters from the unfortunate deceased that they +had immediately let the matter drop. + +Talk in general centered round three melancholy facts: the Emperor's +lack of news, the loss of Kutuzov, and the death of Helene. + +On the third day after Kutuzov's report a country gentleman +arrived from Moscow, and news of the surrender of Moscow to the French +spread through the whole town. This was terrible! What a position +for the Emperor to be in! Kutuzov was a traitor, and Prince Vasili +during the visits of condolence paid to him on the occasion of his +daughter's death said of Kutuzov, whom he had formerly praised (it was +excusable for him in his grief to forget what he had said), that it +was impossible to expect anything else from a blind and depraved old +man. + +"I only wonder that the fate of Russia could have been entrusted +to such a man." + +As long as this news remained unofficial it was possible to doubt +it, but the next day the following communication was received from +Count Rostopchin: + + +Prince Kutuzov's adjutant has brought me a letter in which he +demands police officers to guide the army to the Ryazan road. He +writes that he is regretfully abandoning Moscow. Sire! Kutuzov's +action decides the fate of the capital and of your empire! Russia will +shudder to learn of the abandonment of the city in which her greatness +is centered and in which lie the ashes of your ancestors! I shall +follow the army. I have had everything removed, and it only remains +for me to weep over the fate of my fatherland. + + +On receiving this dispatch the Emperor sent Prince Volkonski to +Kutuzov with the following rescript: + + +Prince Michael Ilarionovich! Since the twenty-ninth of August I have +received no communication from you, yet on the first of September I +received from the commander in chief of Moscow, via Yaroslavl, the sad +news that you, with the army, have decided to abandon Moscow. You +can yourself imagine the effect this news has had on me, and your +silence increases my astonishment. I am sending this by +Adjutant-General Prince Volkonski, to hear from you the situation of +the army and the reasons that have induced you to take this melancholy +decision. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Nine days after the abandonment of Moscow, a messenger from +Kutuzov reached Petersburg with the official announcement of that +event. This messenger was Michaud, a Frenchman who did not know +Russian, but who was quoique etranger, russe de coeur et d'ame,* as he +said of himself. + + +*Though a foreigner, Russian in heart and soul. + + +The Emperor at once received this messenger in his study at the +palace on Stone Island. Michaud, who had never seen Moscow before +the campaign and who did not know Russian, yet felt deeply moved (as +he wrote) when he appeared before notre tres gracieux souverain* +with the news of the burning of Moscow, dont les flammes eclairaient +sa route.*[2] + + +*Our most gracious sovereign. + +*[2] Whose flames illumined his route. + + +Though the source of M. Michaud's chagrin must have been different +from that which caused Russians to grieve, he had such a sad face when +shown into the Emperor's study that the latter at once asked: + +"Have you brought me sad news, Colonel?" + +"Very sad, sire," replied Michaud, lowering his eyes with a sigh. +"The abandonment of Moscow." + +"Have they surrendered my ancient capital without a battle?" asked +the Emperor quickly, his face suddenly flushing. + +Michaud respectfully delivered the message Kutuzov had entrusted +to him, which was that it had been impossible to fight before +Moscow, and that as the only remaining choice was between losing the +army as well as Moscow, or losing Moscow alone, the field marshal +had to choose the latter. + +The Emperor listened in silence, not looking at Michaud. + +"Has the enemy entered the city?" he asked. + +"Yes, sire, and Moscow is now in ashes. I left it all in flames," +replied Michaud in a decided tone, but glancing at the Emperor he +was frightened by what he had done. + +The Emperor began to breathe heavily and rapidly, his lower lip +trembled, and tears instantly appeared in his fine blue eyes. + +But this lasted only a moment. He suddenly frowned, as if blaming +himself for his weakness, and raising his head addressed Michaud in +a firm voice: + +"I see, Colonel, from all that is happening, that Providence +requires great sacrifices of us... I am ready to submit myself in +all things to His will; but tell me, Michaud, how did you leave the +army when it saw my ancient capital abandoned without a battle? Did +you not notice discouragement?..." + +Seeing that his most gracious ruler was calm once more, Michaud also +grew calm, but was not immediately ready to reply to the Emperor's +direct and relevant question which required a direct answer. + +"Sire, will you allow me to speak frankly as befits a loyal +soldier?" he asked to gain time. + +"Colonel, I always require it," replied the Emperor. "Conceal +nothing from me, I wish to know absolutely how things are." + +"Sire!" said Michaud with a subtle, scarcely perceptible smile on +his lips, having now prepared a well-phrased reply, "sire, I left +the whole army, from its chiefs to the lowest soldier, without +exception in desperate and agonized terror..." + +"How is that?" the Emperor interrupted him, frowning sternly. "Would +misfortune make my Russians lose heart?... Never!" + +Michaud had only waited for this to bring out the phrase he had +prepared. + +"Sire," he said, with respectful playfulness, "they are only +afraid lest Your Majesty, in the goodness of your heart, should +allow yourself to be persuaded to make peace. They are burning for the +combat," declared this representative of the Russian nation, "and to +prove to Your Majesty by the sacrifice of their lives how devoted they +are...." + +"Ah!" said the Emperor reassured, and with a kindly gleam in his +eyes, he patted Michaud on the shoulder. "You set me at ease, +Colonel." + +He bent his head and was silent for some time. + +"Well, then, go back to the army," he said, drawing himself up to +his full height and addressing Michaud with a gracious and majestic +gesture, "and tell our brave men and all my good subjects wherever you +go that when I have not a soldier left I shall put myself at the +head of my beloved nobility and my good peasants and so use the last +resources of my empire. It still offers me more than my enemies +suppose," said the Emperor growing more and more animated; "but should +it ever be ordained by Divine Providence," he continued, raising to +heaven his fine eyes shining with emotion, "that my dynasty should +cease to reign on the throne of my ancestors, then after exhausting +all the means at my command, I shall let my beard grow to here" (he +pointed halfway down his chest) "and go and eat potatoes with the +meanest of my peasants, rather than sign the disgrace of my country +and of my beloved people whose sacrifices I know how to appreciate." + +Having uttered these words in an agitated voice the Emperor suddenly +turned away as if to hide from Michaud the tears that rose to his +eyes, and went to the further end of his study. Having stood there a +few moments, he strode back to Michaud and pressed his arm below the +elbow with a vigorous movement. The Emperor's mild and handsome face +was flushed and his eyes gleamed with resolution and anger. + +"Colonel Michaud, do not forget what I say to you here, perhaps we +may recall it with pleasure someday... Napoleon or I," said the +Emperor, touching his breast. "We can no longer both reign together. I +have learned to know him, and he will not deceive me any more...." + +And the Emperor paused, with a frown. + +When he heard these words and saw the expression of firm +resolution in the Emperor's eyes, Michaud--quoique etranger, russe +de coeur et d'ame--at that solemn moment felt himself enraptured by +all that he had heard (as he used afterwards to say), and gave +expression to his own feelings and those of the Russian people whose +representative he considered himself to be, in the following words: + +"Sire!" said he, "Your Majesty is at this moment signing the glory +of the nation and the salvation of Europe!" + +With an inclination of the head the Emperor dismissed him. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +It is natural for us who were not living in those days to imagine +that when half Russia had been conquered and the inhabitants were +fleeing to distant provinces, and one levy after another was being +raised for the defense of the fatherland, all Russians from the +greatest to the least were solely engaged in sacrificing themselves, +saving their fatherland, or weeping over its downfall. The tales and +descriptions of that time without exception speak only of the +self-sacrifice, patriotic devotion, despair, grief, and the heroism of +the Russians. But it was not really so. It appears so to us because we +see only the general historic interest of that time and do not see all +the personal human interests that people had. Yet in reality those +personal interests of the moment so much transcend the general +interests that they always prevent the public interest from being felt +or even noticed. Most of the people at that time paid no attention +to the general progress of events but were guided only by their +private interests, and they were the very people whose activities at +that period were most useful. + +Those who tried to understand the general course of events and to +take part in it by self-sacrifice and heroism were the most useless +members of society, they saw everything upside down, and all they +did for the common good turned out to be useless and foolish--like +Pierre's and Mamonov's regiments which looted Russian villages, and +the lint the young ladies prepared and that never reached the wounded, +and so on. Even those, fond of intellectual talk and of expressing +their feelings, who discussed Russia's position at the time +involuntarily introduced into their conversation either a shade of +pretense and falsehood or useless condemnation and anger directed +against people accused of actions no one could possibly be guilty +of. In historic events the rule forbidding us to eat of the fruit of +the Tree of Knowledge is specially applicable. Only unconscious action +bears fruit, and he who plays a part in an historic event never +understands its significance. If he tries to realize it his efforts +are fruitless. + +The more closely a man was engaged in the events then taking place +in Russia the less did he realize their significance. In Petersburg +and in the provinces at a distance from Moscow, ladies, and +gentlemen in militia uniforms, wept for Russia and its ancient capital +and talked of self-sacrifice and so on; but in the army which +retired beyond Moscow there was little talk or thought of Moscow, +and when they caught sight of its burned ruins no one swore to be +avenged on the French, but they thought about their next pay, their +next quarters, of Matreshka the vivandiere, and like matters. + +As the war had caught him in the service, Nicholas Rostov took a +close and prolonged part in the defense of his country, but did so +casually, without any aim at self-sacrifice, and he therefore looked +at what was going on in Russia without despair and without dismally +racking his brains over it. Had he been asked what he thought of the +state of Russia, he would have said that it was not his business to +think about it, that Kutuzov and others were there for that purpose, +but that he had heard that the regiments were to be made up to their +full strength, that fighting would probably go on for a long time yet, +and that things being so it was quite likely he might be in command of +a regiment in a couple of years' time. + +As he looked at the matter in this way, he learned that he was being +sent to Voronezh to buy remounts for his division, not only without +regret at being prevented from taking part in the coming battle, but +with the greatest pleasure--which he did not conceal and which his +comrades fully understood. + +A few days before the battle of Borodino, Nicholas received the +necessary money and warrants, and having sent some hussars on in +advance, he set out with post horses for Voronezh. + +Only a man who has experienced it--that is, has passed some months +continuously in an atmosphere of campaigning and war--can understand +the delight Nicholas felt when he escaped from the region covered by +the army's foraging operations, provision trains, and hospitals. When- +free from soldiers, wagons, and the filthy traces of a camp--he saw +villages with peasants and peasant women, gentlemen's country +houses, fields where cattle were grazing, posthouses with +stationmasters asleep in them, he rejoiced as though seeing all this +for the first time. What for a long while specially surprised and +delighted him were the women, young and healthy, without a dozen +officers making up to each of them; women, too, who were pleased and +flattered that a passing officer should joke with them. + +In the highest spirits Nicholas arrived at night at a hotel in +Voronezh, ordered things he had long been deprived of in camp, and +next day, very clean-shaven and in a full-dress uniform he had not +worn for a long time, went to present himself to the authorities. + +The commander of the militia was a civilian general, an old man +who was evidently pleased with his military designation and rank. He +received Nicholas brusquely (imagining this to be characteristically +military) and questioned him with an important air, as if +considering the general progress of affairs and approving and +disapproving with full right to do so. Nicholas was in such good +spirits that this merely amused him. + +From the commander of the militia he drove to the governor. The +governor was a brisk little man, very simple and affable. He indicated +the stud farms at which Nicholas might procure horses, recommended +to him a horse dealer in the town and a landowner fourteen miles out +of town who had the best horses, and promised to assist him in every +way. + +"You are Count Ilya Rostov's son? My wife was a great friend of your +mother's. We are at home on Thursdays--today is Thursday, so please +come and see us quite informally," said the governor, taking leave +of him. + +Immediately on leaving the governor's, Nicholas hired post horses +and, taking his squadron quartermaster with him, drove at a gallop +to the landowner, fourteen miles away, who had the stud. Everything +seemed to him pleasant and easy during that first part of his stay +in Voronezh and, as usually happens when a man is in a pleasant +state of mind, everything went well and easily. + +The landowner to whom Nicholas went was a bachelor, an old +cavalryman, a horse fancier, a sportsman, the possessor of some +century-old brandy and some old Hungarian wine, who had a snuggery +where he smoked, and who owned some splendid horses. + +In very few words Nicholas bought seventeen picked stallions for six +thousand rubles--to serve, as he said, as samples of his remounts. +After dining and taking rather too much of the Hungarian wine, +Nicholas--having exchanged kisses with the landowner, with whom he was +already on the friendliest terms--galloped back over abominable roads, +in the brightest frame of mind, continually urging on the driver so as +to be in time for the governor's party. + +When he had changed, poured water over his head, and scented +himself, Nicholas arrived at the governor's rather late, but with +the phrase "better late than never" on his lips. + +It was not a ball, nor had dancing been announced, but everyone knew +that Catherine Petrovna would play valses and the ecossaise on the +clavichord and that there would be dancing, and so everyone had come +as to a ball. + +Provincial life in 1812 went on very much as usual, but with this +difference, that it was livelier in the towns in consequence of the +arrival of many wealthy families from Moscow, and as in everything +that went on in Russia at that time a special recklessness was +noticeable, an "in for a penny, in for a pound--who cares?" spirit, +and the inevitable small talk, instead of turning on the weather and +mutual acquaintances, now turned on Moscow, the army, and Napoleon. + +The society gathered together at the governor's was the best in +Voronezh. + +There were a great many ladies and some of Nicholas' Moscow +acquaintances, but there were no men who could at all vie with the +cavalier of St. George, the hussar remount officer, the good-natured +and well-bred Count Rostov. Among the men was an Italian prisoner, +an officer of the French army; and Nicholas felt that the presence +of that prisoner enhanced his own importance as a Russian hero. The +Italian was, as it were, a war trophy. Nicholas felt this, it seemed +to him that everyone regarded the Italian in the same light, and he +treated him cordially though with dignity and restraint. + +As soon as Nicholas entered in his hussar uniform, diffusing +around him a fragrance of perfume and wine, and had uttered the +words "better late than never" and heard them repeated several times +by others, people clustered around him; all eyes turned on him, and he +felt at once that he had entered into his proper position in the +province--that of a universal favorite: a very pleasant position, +and intoxicatingly so after his long privations. At posting +stations, at inns, and in the landowner's snuggery, maidservants had +been flattered by his notice, and here too at the governor's party +there were (as it seemed to Nicholas) an inexhaustible number of +pretty young women, married and unmarried, impatiently awaiting his +notice. The women and girls flirted with him and, from the first +day, the people concerned themselves to get this fine young +daredevil of an hussar married and settled down. Among these was the +governor's wife herself, who welcomed Rostov as a near relative and +called him "Nicholas." + +Catherine Petrovna did actually play valses and the ecossaise, and +dancing began in which Nicholas still further captivated the +provincial society by his agility. His particularly free manner of +dancing even surprised them all. Nicholas was himself rather surprised +at the way he danced that evening. He had never danced like that in +Moscow and would even have considered such a very free and easy manner +improper and in bad form, but here he felt it incumbent on him to +astonish them all by something unusual, something they would have to +accept as the regular thing in the capital though new to them in the +provinces. + +All the evening Nicholas paid attention to a blue-eyed, plump and +pleasing little blonde, the wife of one of the provincial officials. +With the naive conviction of young men in a merry mood that other +men's wives were created for them, Rostov did not leave the lady's +side and treated her husband in a friendly and conspiratorial style, +as if, without speaking of it, they knew how capitally Nicholas and +the lady would get on together. The husband, however, did not seem +to share that conviction and tried to behave morosely with Rostov. But +the latter's good-natured naivete was so boundless that sometimes even +he involuntarily yielded to Nicholas' good humor. Toward the end of +the evening, however, as the wife's face grew more flushed and +animated, the husband's became more and more melancholy and solemn, as +though there were but a given amount of animation between them and +as the wife's share increased the husband's diminished. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Nicholas sat leaning slightly forward in an armchair, bending +closely over the blonde lady and paying her mythological compliments +with a smile that never left his face. Jauntily shifting the +position of his legs in their tight riding breeches, diffusing an odor +of perfume, and admiring his partner, himself, and the fine outlines +of his legs in their well-fitting Hessian boots, Nicholas told the +blonde lady that he wished to run away with a certain lady here in +Voronezh. + +"Which lady?" + +"A charming lady, a divine one. Her eyes" (Nicholas looked at his +partner) "are blue, her mouth coral and ivory; her figure" (he glanced +at her shoulders) "like Diana's...." + +The husband came up and sullenly asked his wife what she was talking +about. + +"Ah, Nikita Ivanych!" cried Nicholas, rising politely, and as if +wishing Nikita Ivanych to share his joke, he began to tell him of +his intention to elope with a blonde lady. + +The husband smiled gloomily, the wife gaily. The governor's +good-natured wife came up with a look of disapproval. + +"Anna Ignatyevna wants to see you, Nicholas," said she, +pronouncing the name so that Nicholas at once understood that Anna +Ignatyevna was a very important person. "Come, Nicholas! You know +you let me call you so?" + +"Oh, yes, Aunt. Who is she?" + +"Anna Ignatyevna Malvintseva. She has heard from her niece how you +rescued her... Can you guess?" + +"I rescued such a lot of them!" said Nicholas. + +"Her niece, Princess Bolkonskaya. She is here in Voronezh with her +aunt. Oho! How you blush. Why, are...?" + +"Not a bit! Please don't, Aunt!" + +"Very well, very well!... Oh, what a fellow you are!" + +The governor's wife led him up to a tall and very stout old lady +with a blue headdress, who had just finished her game of cards with +the most important personages of the town. This was Malvintseva, +Princess Mary's aunt on her mother's side, a rich, childless widow who +always lived in Voronezh. When Rostov approached her she was +standing settling up for the game. She looked at him and, screwing +up her eyes sternly, continued to upbraid the general who had won from +her. + +"Very pleased, mon cher," she then said, holding out her hand to +Nicholas. "Pray come and see me." + +After a few words about Princess Mary and her late father, whom +Malvintseva had evidently not liked, and having asked what Nicholas +knew of Prince Andrew, who also was evidently no favorite of hers, the +important old lady dismissed Nicholas after repeating her invitation +to come to see her. + +Nicholas promised to come and blushed again as he bowed. At the +mention of Princess Mary he experienced a feeling of shyness and +even of fear, which he himself did not understand. + +When he had parted from Malvintseva Nicholas wished to return to the +dancing, but the governor's little wife placed her plump hand on his +sleeve and, saying that she wanted to have a talk with him, led him to +her sitting room, from which those who were there immediately withdrew +so as not to be in her way. + +"Do you know, dear boy," began the governor's wife with a serious +expression on her kind little face, "that really would be the match +for you: would you like me to arrange it?" + +"Whom do you mean, Aunt?" asked Nicholas. + +"I will make a match for you with the princess. Catherine Petrovna +speaks of Lily, but I say, no--the princess! Do you want me to do +it? I am sure your mother will be grateful to me. What a charming girl +she is, really! And she is not at all so plain, either." + +"Not at all," replied Nicholas as if offended at the idea. "As +befits a soldier, Aunt, I don't force myself on anyone or refuse +anything," he said before he had time to consider what he was saying. + +"Well then, remember, this is not a joke!" + +"Of course not!" + +"Yes, yes," the governor's wife said as if talking to herself. "But, +my dear boy, among other things you are too attentive to the other, +the blonde. One is sorry for the husband, really...." + +"Oh no, we are good friends with him," said Nicholas in the +simplicity of his heart; it did not enter his head that a pastime so +pleasant to himself might not be pleasant to someone else. + +"But what nonsense I have been saying to the governor's wife!" +thought Nicholas suddenly at supper. "She will really begin to arrange +a match... and Soyna...?" And on taking leave of the governor's +wife, when she again smilingly said to him, "Well then, remember!" +he drew her aside. + +"But see here, to tell the truth, Aunt..." + +"What is it, my dear? Come, let's sit down here," said she. + +Nicholas suddenly felt a desire and need to tell his most intimate +thoughts (which he would not have told to his mother, his sister, or +his friend) to this woman who was almost a stranger. When he +afterwards recalled that impulse to unsolicited and inexplicable +frankness which had very important results for him, it seemed to +him--as it seems to everyone in such cases--that it was merely some +silly whim that seized him: yet that burst of frankness, together with +other trifling events, had immense consequences for him and for all +his family. + +"You see, Aunt, Mamma has long wanted me to marry an heiress, but +the very idea of marrying for money is repugnant to me." + +"Oh yes, I understand," said the governor's wife. + +"But Princess Bolkonskaya--that's another matter. I will tell you +the truth. In the first place I like her very much, I feel drawn to +her; and then, after I met her under such circumstances--so strangely, +the idea often occurred to me: 'This is fate.' Especially if you +remember that Mamma had long been thinking of it; but I had never +happened to meet her before, somehow it had always happened that we +did not meet. And as long as my sister Natasha was engaged to her +brother it was of course out of the question for me to think of +marrying her. And it must needs happen that I should meet her just +when Natasha's engagement had been broken off... and then +everything... So you see... I never told this to anyone and never +will, only to you." + +The governor's wife pressed his elbow gratefully. + +"You know Sonya, my cousin? I love her, and promised to marry her, +and will do so.... So you see there can be no question about-" said +Nicholas incoherently and blushing. + +"My dear boy, what a way to look at it! You know Sonya has nothing +and you yourself say your Papa's affairs are in a very bad way. And +what about your mother? It would kill her, that's one thing. And +what sort of life would it be for Sonya--if she's a girl with a heart? +Your mother in despair, and you all ruined.... No, my dear, you and +Sonya ought to understand that." + +Nicholas remained silent. It comforted him to hear these arguments. + +"All the same, Aunt, it is impossible," he rejoined with a sigh, +after a short pause. "Besides, would the princess have me? And +besides, she is now in mourning. How can one think of it!" + +"But you don't suppose I'm going to get you married at once? There +is always a right way of doing things," replied the governor's wife. + +"What a matchmaker you are, Aunt..." said Nicholas, kissing her +plump little hand. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +On reaching Moscow after her meeting with Rostov, Princess Mary +had found her nephew there with his tutor, and a letter from Prince +Andrew giving her instructions how to get to her Aunt Malvintseva at +Voronezh. That feeling akin to temptation which had tormented her +during her father's illness, since his death, and especially since her +meeting with Rostov was smothered by arrangements for the journey, +anxiety about her brother, settling in a new house, meeting new +people, and attending to her nephew's education. She was sad. Now, +after a month passed in quiet surroundings, she felt more and more +deeply the loss of her father which was associated in her mind with +the ruin of Russia. She was agitated and incessantly tortured by the +thought of the dangers to which her brother, the only intimate +person now remaining to her, was exposed. She was worried too about +her nephew's education for which she had always felt herself +incompetent, but in the depths of her soul she felt at peace--a +peace arising from consciousness of having stifled those personal +dreams and hopes that had been on the point of awakening within her +and were related to her meeting with Rostov. + +The day after her party the governor's wife came to see +Malvintseva and, after discussing her plan with the aunt, remarked +that though under present circumstances a formal betrothal was, of +course, not to be thought of, all the same the young people might be +brought together and could get to know one another. Malvintseva +expressed approval, and the governor's wife began to speak of Rostov +in Mary's presence, praising him and telling how he had blushed when +Princess Mary's name was mentioned. But Princess Mary experienced a +painful rather than a joyful feeling--her mental tranquillity was +destroyed, and desires, doubts, self-reproach, and hopes reawoke. + +During the two days that elapsed before Rostov called, Princess Mary +continually thought of how she ought to behave to him. First she +decided not to come to the drawing room when he called to see her +aunt--that it would not be proper for her, in her deep mourning, to +receive visitors; then she thought this would be rude after what he +had done for her; then it occurred to her that her aunt and the +governor's wife had intentions concerning herself and Rostov--their +looks and words at times seemed to confirm this supposition--then +she told herself that only she, with her sinful nature, could think +this of them: they could not forget that situated as she was, while +still wearing deep mourning, such matchmaking would be an insult to +her and to her father's memory. Assuming that she did go down to see +him, Princess Mary imagined the words he would say to her and what she +would say to him, and these words sometimes seemed undeservedly cold +and then to mean too much. More than anything she feared lest the +confusion she felt might overwhelm her and betray her as soon as she +saw him. + +But when on Sunday after church the footman announced in the drawing +room that Count Rostov had called, the princess showed no confusion, +only a slight blush suffused her cheeks and her eyes lit up with a new +and radiant light. + +"You have met him, Aunt?" said she in a calm voice, unable herself +to understand that she could be outwardly so calm and natural. + +When Rostov entered the room, the princess dropped her eyes for an +instant, as if to give the visitor time to greet her aunt, and then +just as Nicholas turned to her she raised her head and met his look +with shining eyes. With a movement full of dignity and grace she +half rose with a smile of pleasure, held out her slender, delicate +hand to him, and began to speak in a voice in which for the first time +new deep womanly notes vibrated. Mademoiselle Bourienne, who was in +the drawing room, looked at Princess Mary in bewildered surprise. +Herself a consummate coquette, she could not have maneuvered better on +meeting a man she wished to attract. + +"Either black is particularly becoming to her or she really has +greatly improved without my having noticed it. And above all, what +tact and grace!" thought Mademoiselle Bourienne. + +Had Princess Mary been capable of reflection at that moment, she +would have been more surprised than Mademoiselle Bourienne at the +change that had taken place in herself. From the moment she recognized +that dear, loved face, a new life force took possession of her and +compelled her to speak and act apart from her own will. From the +time Rostov entered, her face became suddenly transformed. It was as +if a light had been kindled in a carved and painted lantern and the +intricate, skillful, artistic work on its sides, that previously +seemed dark, coarse, and meaningless, was suddenly shown up in +unexpected and striking beauty. For the first time all that pure, +spiritual, inward travail through which she had lived appeared on +the surface. All her inward labor, her dissatisfaction with herself, +her sufferings, her strivings after goodness, her meekness, love, +and self-sacrifice--all this now shone in those radiant eyes, in her +delicate smile, and in every trait of her gentle face. + +Rostov saw all this as clearly as if he had known her whole life. He +felt that the being before him was quite different from, and better +than, anyone he had met before, and above all better than himself. + +Their conversation was very simple and unimportant. They spoke of +the war, and like everyone else unconsciously exaggerated their sorrow +about it; they spoke of their last meeting--Nicholas trying to +change the subject--they talked of the governor's kind wife, of +Nicholas' relations, and of Princess Mary's. + +She did not talk about her brother, diverting the conversation as +soon as her aunt mentioned Andrew. Evidently she could speak of +Russia's misfortunes with a certain artificiality, but her brother was +too near her heart and she neither could nor would speak lightly of +him. Nicholas noticed this, as he noticed every shade of Princess +Mary's character with an observation unusual to him, and everything +confirmed his conviction that she was a quite unusual and +extraordinary being. Nicholas blushed and was confused when people +spoke to him about the princess (as she did when he was mentioned) and +even when he thought of her, but in her presence he felt quite at +ease, and said not at all what he had prepared, but what, quite +appropriately, occurred to him at the moment. + +When a pause occurred during his short visit, Nicholas, as is +usual when there are children, turned to Prince Andrew's little son, +caressing him and asking whether he would like to be an hussar. He +took the boy on his knee, played with him, and looked round at +Princess Mary. With a softened, happy, timid look she watched the +boy she loved in the arms of the man she loved. Nicholas also +noticed that look and, as if understanding it, flushed with pleasure +and began to kiss the boy with good natured playfulness. + +As she was in mourning Princess Mary did not go out into society, +and Nicholas did not think it the proper thing to visit her again; but +all the same the governor's wife went on with her matchmaking, passing +on to Nicholas the flattering things Princess Mary said of him and +vice versa, and insisting on his declaring himself to Princess Mary. +For this purpose she arranged a meeting between the young people at +the bishop's house before Mass. + +Though Rostov told the governeor's wife that he would not make any +declaration to Princess Mary, he promised to go. + +As at Tilsit Rostov had not allowed himself to doubt that what +everybody considered right was right, so now, after a short but +sincere struggle between his effort to arrange his life by his own +sense of justice, and in obedient submission to circumstances, he +chose the latter and yielded to the power he felt irresistibly +carrying him he knew not where. He knew that after his promise to +Sonya it would be what he deemed base to declare his feelings to +Princess Mary. And he knew that he would never act basely. But he also +knew (or rather felt at the bottom of his heart) that by resigning +himself now to the force of circumstances and to those who were +guiding him, he was not only doing nothing wrong, but was doing +something very important--more important than anything he had ever +done in his life. + +After meeting Princess Mary, though the course of his life went on +externally as before, all his former amusements lost their charm for +him and he often thought about her. But he never thought about her +as he had thought of all the young ladies without exception whom he +had met in society, nor as he had for a long time, and at one time +rapturously, thought about Sonya. He had pictured each of those +young ladies as almost all honest-hearted young men do, that is, as +a possible wife, adapting her in his imagination to all the conditions +of married life: a white dressing gown, his wife at the tea table, his +wife's carriage, little ones, Mamma and Papa, their relations to +her, and so on--and these pictures of the future had given him +pleasure. But with Princess Mary, to whom they were trying to get +him engaged, he could never picture anything of future married life. +If he tried, his pictures seemed incongruous and false. It made him +afraid. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The dreadful news of the battle of Borodino, of our losses in killed +and wounded, and the still more terrible news of the loss of Moscow +reached Voronezh in the middle of September. Princess Mary, having +learned of her brother's wound only from the Gazette and having no +definite news of him, prepared (so Nicholas heard, he had not seen her +again himself) to set off in search of Prince Andrew. + +When he received the news of the battle of Borodino and the +abandonment of Moscow, Rostov was not seized with despair, anger, +the desire for vengeance, or any feeling of that kind, but +everything in Voronezh suddenly seemed to him dull and tiresome, and +he experienced an indefinite feeling of shame and awkwardness. The +conversations he heard seemed to him insincere; he did not know how to +judge all these affairs and felt that only in the regiment would +everything again become clear to him. He made haste to finish buying +the horses, and often became unreasonably angry with his servant and +squadron quartermaster. + +A few days before his departure a special thanksgiving, at which +Nicholas was present, was held in the cathedral for the Russian +victory. He stood a little behind the governor and held himself with +military decorum through the service, meditating on a great variety of +subjects. When the service was over the governor's wife beckoned him +to her. + +"Have you seen the princess?" she asked, indicating with a +movement of her head a lady standing on the opposite side, beyond +the choir. + +Nicholas immediately recognized Princess Mary not so much by the +profile he saw under her bonnet as by the feeling of solicitude, +timidity, and pity that immediately overcame him. Princess Mary, +evidently engrossed by her thoughts, was crossing herself for the last +time before leaving the church. + +Nicholas looked at her face with surprise. It was the same face he +had seen before, there was the same general expression of refined, +inner, spiritual labor, but now it was quite differently lit up. There +was a pathetic expression of sorrow, prayer, and hope in it. As had +occurred before when she was present, Nicholas went up to her +without waiting to be prompted by the governor's wife and not asking +himself whether or not it was right and proper to address her here +in church, and told her he had heard of her trouble and sympathized +with his whole soul. As soon as she heard his voice a vivid glow +kindled in her face, lighting up both her sorrow and her joy. + +"There is one thing I wanted to tell you, Princess," said Rostov. +"It is that if your brother, Prince Andrew Nikolievich, were not +living, it would have been at once announced in the Gazette, as he +is a colonel." + +The princess looked at him, not grasping what he was saying, but +cheered by the expression of regretful sympathy on his face. + +"And I have known so many cases of a splinter wound" (the Gazette +said it was a shell) "either proving fatal at once or being very +slight," continued Nicholas. "We must hope for the best, and I am +sure..." + +Princess Mary interrupted him. + +"Oh, that would be so dread..." she began and, prevented by +agitation from finishing, she bent her head with a movement as +graceful as everything she did in his presence and, looking up at +him gratefully, went out, following her aunt. + +That evening Nicholas did not go out, but stayed at home to settle +some accounts with the horse dealers. When he had finished that +business it was already too late to go anywhere but still too early to +go to bed, and for a long time he paced up and down the room, +reflecting on his life, a thing he rarely did. + +Princess Mary had made an agreeable impression on him when he had +met her in Smolensk province. His having encountered her in such +exceptional circumstances, and his mother having at one time mentioned +her to him as a good match, had drawn his particular attention to her. +When he met her again in Voronezh the impression she made on him was +not merely pleasing but powerful. Nicholas had been struck by the +peculiar moral beauty he observed in her at this time. He was, +however, preparing to go away and it had not entered his head to +regret that he was thus depriving himself of chances of meeting her. +But that day's encounter in church had, he felt, sunk deeper than +was desirable for his peace of mind. That pale, sad, refined face, +that radiant look, those gentle graceful gestures, and especially +the deep and tender sorrow expressed in all her features agitated +him and evoked his sympathy. In men Rostov could not bear to see the +expression of a higher spiritual life (that was why he did not like +Prince Andrew) and he referred to it contemptuously as philosophy +and dreaminess, but in Princess Mary that very sorrow which revealed +the depth of a whole spiritual world foreign to him was an +irresistible attraction. + +"She must be a wonderful woman. A real angel!" he said to himself. +"Why am I not free? Why was I in such a hurry with Sonya?" And he +involuntarily compared the two: the lack of spirituality in the one +and the abundance of it in the other--a spirituality he himself lacked +and therefore valued most highly. He tried to picture what would +happen were he free. How he would propose to her and how she would +become his wife. But no, he could not imagine that. He felt awed, +and no clear picture presented itself to his mind. He had long ago +pictured to himself a future with Sonya, and that was all clear and +simple just because it had all been thought out and he knew all +there was in Sonya, but it was impossible to picture a future with +Princess Mary, because he did not understand her but simply loved her. + +Reveries about Sonya had had something merry and playful in them, +but to dream of Princess Mary was always difficult and a little +frightening. + +"How she prayed!" he thought. "It was plain that her whole soul +was in her prayer. Yes, that was the prayer that moves mountains, +and I am sure her prayer will be answered. Why don't I pray for what I +want?" he suddenly thought. "What do I want? To be free, released from +Sonya... She was right," he thought, remembering what the governor's +wife had said: "Nothing but misfortune can come of marrying Sonya. +Muddles, grief for Mamma... business difficulties... muddles, terrible +muddles! Besides, I don't love her--not as I should. O, God! release +me from this dreadful, inextricable position!" he suddenly began to +pray. "Yes, prayer can move mountains, but one must have faith and not +pray as Natasha and I used to as children, that the snow might turn +into sugar--and then run out into the yard to see whether it had +done so. No, but I am not praying for trifles now," he thought as he +put his pipe down in a corner, and folding his hands placed himself +before the icon. Softened by memories of Princess Mary he began to +pray as he had not done for a long time. Tears were in his eyes and in +his throat when the door opened and Lavrushka came in with some +papers. + +"Blockhead! Why do you come in without being called?" cried +Nicholas, quickly changing his attitude. + +"From the governor," said Lavrushka in a sleepy voice. "A courier +has arrived and there's a letter for you." + +"Well, all right, thanks. You can go!" + +Nicholas took the two letters, one of which was from his mother +and the other from Sonya. He recognized them by the handwriting and +opened Sonya's first. He had read only a few lines when he turned pale +and his eyes opened wide with fear and joy. + +"No, it's not possible!" he cried aloud. + +Unable to sit still he paced up and down the room holding the letter +and reading it. He glanced through it, then read it again, and then +again, and standing still in the middle of the room he raised his +shoulders, stretching out his hands, with his mouth wide open and +his eyes fixed. What he had just been praying for with confidence that +God would hear him had come to pass; but Nicholas was as much +astonished as if it were something extraordinary and unexpected, and +as if the very fact that it had happened so quickly proved that it had +not come from God to whom he had prayed, but by some ordinary +coincidence. + +This unexpected and, as it seemed to Nicholas, quite voluntary +letter from Sonya freed him from the knot that fettered him and from +which there had seemed no escape. She wrote that the last +unfortunate events--the loss of almost the whole of the Rostovs' +Moscow property--and the countess' repeatedly expressed wish that +Nicholas should marry Princess Bolkonskaya, together with his +silence and coldness of late, had all combined to make her decide to +release him from his promise and set him completely free. + + +It would be too painful to me to think that I might be a cause of +sorrow or discord in the family that has been so good to me (she +wrote), and my love has no aim but the happiness of those I love; +so, Nicholas, I beg you to consider yourself free, and to be assured +that, in spite of everything, no one can love you more than does + +Your Sonya + + +Both letters were written from Troitsa. The other, from the +countess, described their last days in Moscow, their departure, the +fire, and the destruction of all their property. In this letter the +countess also mentioned that Prince Andrew was among the wounded +traveling with them; his state was very critical, but the doctor +said there was now more hope. Sonya and Natasha were nursing him. + +Next day Nicholas took his mother's letter and went to see +Princess Mary. Neither he nor she said a word about what "Natasha +nursing him" might mean, but thanks to this letter Nicholas suddenly +became almost as intimate with the princess as if they were relations. + +The following day he saw Princess Mary off on her journey to +Yaroslavl, and a few days later left to rejoin his regiment. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Sonya's letter written from Troitsa, which had come as an answer +to Nicholas' prayer, was prompted by this: the thought of getting +Nicholas married to an heiress occupied the old countess' mind more +and more. She knew that Sonya was the chief obstacle to this +happening, and Sonya's life in the countess' house had grown harder +and harder, especially after they had received a letter from +Nicholas telling of his meeting with Princess Mary in Bogucharovo. The +countess let no occasion slip of making humiliating or cruel allusions +to Sonya. + +But a few days before they left Moscow, moved and excited by all +that was going on, she called Sonya to her and, instead of reproaching +and making demands on her, tearfully implored her to sacrifice herself +and repay all that the family had done for her by breaking off her +engagement with Nicholas. + +"I shall not be at peace till you promise me this." + +Sonya burst into hysterical tears and replied through her sobs +that she would do anything and was prepared for anything, but gave +no actual promise and could not bring herself to decide to do what was +demanded of her. She must sacrifice herself for the family that had +reared and brought her up. To sacrifice herself for others was Sonya's +habit. Her position in the house was such that only by sacrifice could +she show her worth, and she was accustomed to this and loved doing it. +But in all her former acts of self-sacrifice she had been happily +conscious that they raised her in her own esteem and in that of +others, and so made her more worthy of Nicholas whom she loved more +than anything in the world. But now they wanted her to sacrifice the +very thing that constituted the whole reward for her self-sacrifice +and the whole meaning of her life. And for the first time she felt +bitterness against those who had been her benefactors only to +torture her the more painfully; she felt jealous of Natasha who had +never experienced anything of this sort, had never needed to sacrifice +herself, but made others sacrifice themselves for her and yet was +beloved by everybody. And for the first time Sonya felt that out of +her pure, quiet love for Nicholas a passionate feeling was beginning +to grow up which was stronger than principle, virtue, or religion. +Under the influence of this feeling Sonya, whose life of dependence +had taught her involuntarily to be secretive, having answered the +countess in vague general terms, avoided talking with her and resolved +to wait till she should see Nicholas, not in order to set him free but +on the contrary at that meeting to bind him to her forever. + +The bustle and terror of the Rostovs' last days in Moscow stifled +the gloomy thoughts that oppressed Sonya. She was glad to find +escape from them in practical activity. But when she heard of Prince +Andrew's presence in their house, despite her sincere pity for him and +for Natasha, she was seized by a joyful and superstitious feeling that +God did not intend her to be separated from Nicholas. She knew that +Natasha loved no one but Prince Andrew and had never ceased to love +him. She knew that being thrown together again under such terrible +circumstances they would again fall in love with one another, and that +Nicholas would then not be able to marry Princess Mary as they would +be within the prohibited degrees of affinity. Despite all the terror +of what had happened during those last days and during the first +days of their journey, this feeling that Providence was intervening in +her personal affairs cheered Sonya. + +At the Troitsa monastery the Rostovs first broke their journey for a +whole day. + +Three large rooms were assigned to them in the monastery hostelry, +one of which was occupied by Prince Andrew. The wounded man was much +better that day and Natasha was sitting with him. In the next room sat +the count and countess respectfully conversing with the prior, who was +calling on them as old acquaintances and benefactors of the monastery. +Sonya was there too, tormented by curiosity as to what Prince Andrew +and Natasha were talking about. She heard the sound of their voices +through the door. That door opened and Natasha came out, looking +excited. Not noticing the monk, who had risen to greet her and was +drawing back the wide sleeve on his right arm, she went up to Sonya +and took her hand. + +"Natasha, what are you about? Come here!" said the countess. + +Natasha went up to the monk for his blessing, and advised her to +pray for aid to God and His saint. + +As soon as the prior withdrew, Natasha took her friend by the hand +and went with her into the unoccupied room. + +"Sonya, will he live?" she asked. "Sonya, how happy I am, and how +unhappy!... Sonya, dovey, everything is as it used to be. If only he +lives! He cannot... because... because... of" and Natasha burst into +tears. + +"Yes! I knew it! Thank God!" murmured Sonya. "He will live." + +Sonya was not less agitated than her friend by the latter's fear and +grief and by her own personal feelings which she shared with no one. +Sobbing, she kissed and comforted Natasha. "If only he lives!" she +thought. Having wept, talked, and wiped away their tears, the two +friends went together to Prince Andrew's door. Natasha opened it +cautiously and glanced into the room, Sonya standing beside her at the +half-open door. + +Prince Andrew was lying raised high on three pillows. His pale +face was calm, his eyes closed, and they could see his regular +breathing. + +"O, Natasha!" Sonya suddenly almost screamed, catching her +companion's arm and stepping back from the door. + +"What? What is it?" asked Natasha. + +"It's that, that..." said Sonya, with a white face and trembling +lips. + +Natasha softly closed the door and went with Sonya to the window, +not yet understanding what the latter was telling her. + +"You remember," said Sonya with a solemn and frightened +expression. "You remember when I looked in the mirror for you... at +Otradnoe at Christmas? Do you remember what I saw?" + +"Yes, yes!" cried Natasha opening her eyes wide, and vaguely +recalling that Sonya had told her something about Prince Andrew whom +she had seen lying down. + +"You remember?" Sonya went on. "I saw it then and told everybody, +you and Dunyasha. I saw him lying on a bed," said she, making a +gesture with her hand and a lifted finger at each detail, "and that he +had his eyes closed and was covered just with a pink quilt, and that +his hands were folded," she concluded, convincing herself that the +details she had just seen were exactly what she had seen in the +mirror. + +She had in fact seen nothing then but had mentioned the first +thing that came into her head, but what she had invented then seemed +to her now as real as any other recollection. She not only +remembered what she had then said--that he turned to look at her and +smiled and was covered with something red--but was firmly convinced +that she had then seen and said that he was covered with a pink +quilt and that his eyes were closed. + +"Yes, yes, it really was pink!" cried Natasha, who now thought she +too remembered the word pink being used, and saw in this the most +extraordinary and mysterious part of the prediction. + +"But what does it mean?" she added meditatively. + +"Oh, I don't know, it is all so strange," replied Sonya, clutching +at her head. + +A few minutes later Prince Andrew rang and Natasha went to him, +but Sonya, feeling unusually excited and touched, remained at the +window thinking about the strangeness of what had occurred. + + +They had an opportunity that day to send letters to the army, and +the countess was writing to her son. + +"Sonya!" said the countess, raising her eyes from her letter as +her niece passed, "Sonya, won't you write to Nicholas?" She spoke in a +soft, tremulous voice, and in the weary eyes that looked over her +spectacles Sonya read all that the countess meant to convey with these +words. Those eyes expressed entreaty, shame at having to ask, fear +of a refusal, and readiness for relentless hatred in case of such +refusal. + +Sonya went up to the countess and, kneeling down, kissed her hand. + +"Yes, Mamma, I will write," said she. + +Sonya was softened, excited, and touched by all that had occurred +that day, especially by the mysterious fulfillment she had just seen +of her vision. Now that she knew that the renewal of Natasha's +relations with Prince Andrew would prevent Nicholas from marrying +Princess Mary, she was joyfully conscious of a return of that +self-sacrificing spirit in which she was accustomed to live and +loved to live. So with a joyful consciousness of performing a +magnanimous deed--interrupted several times by the tears that dimmed +her velvety black eyes--she wrote that touching letter the arrival +of which had so amazed Nicholas. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The officer and soldiers who had arrested Pierre treated him with +hostility but yet with respect, in the guardhouse to which he was +taken. In their attitude toward him could still be felt both +uncertainty as to who he might be--perhaps a very important person- +and hostility as a result of their recent personal conflict with him. + +But when the guard was relieved next morning, Pierre felt that for +the new guard--both officers and men--he was not as interesting as +he had been to his captors; and in fact the guard of the second day +did not recognize in this big, stout man in a peasant coat the +vigorous person who had fought so desperately with the marauder and +the convoy and had uttered those solemn words about saving a child; +they saw in him only No. 17 of the captured Russians, arrested and +detained for some reason by order of the Higher Command. If they +noticed anything remarkable about Pierre, it was only his unabashed, +meditative concentration and thoughtfulness, and the way he spoke +French, which struck them as surprisingly good. In spite of this he +was placed that day with the other arrested suspects, as the +separate room he had occupied was required by an officer. + +All the Russians confined with Pierre were men of the lowest class +and, recognizing him as a gentleman, they all avoided him, more +especially as he spoke French. Pierre felt sad at hearing them +making fun of him. + +That evening he learned that all these prisoners (he, probably, +among them) were to be tried for incendiarism. On the third day he was +taken with the others to a house where a French general with a white +mustache sat with two colonels and other Frenchmen with scarves on +their arms. With the precision and definiteness customary in +addressing prisoners, and which is supposed to preclude human frailty, +Pierre like the others was questioned as to who he was, where he had +been, with what object, and so on. + +These questions, like questions put at trials generally, left the +essence of the matter aside, shut out the possibility of that +essence's being revealed, and were designed only to form a channel +through which the judges wished the answers of the accused to flow +so as to lead to the desired result, namely a conviction. As soon as +Pierre began to say anything that did not fit in with that aim, the +channel was removed and the water could flow to waste. Pierre felt, +moreover, what the accused always feel at their trial, perplexity as +to why these questions were put to him. He had a feeling that it was +only out of condescension or a kind of civility that this device of +placing a channel was employed. He knew he was in these men's power, +that only by force had they brought him there, that force alone gave +them the right to demand answers to their questions, and that the sole +object of that assembly was to inculpate him. And so, as they had +the power and wish to inculpate him, this expedient of an inquiry +and trial seemed unnecessary. It was evident that any answer would +lead to conviction. When asked what he was doing when he was arrested, +Pierre replied in a rather tragic manner that he was restoring to +its parents a child he had saved from the flames. Why had he fought +the marauder? Pierre answered that he "was protecting a woman," and +that "to protect a woman who was being insulted was the duty of +every man; that..." They interrupted him, for this was not to the +point. Why was he in the yard of a burning house where witnesses had +seen him? He replied that he had gone out to see what was happening in +Moscow. Again they interrupted him: they had not asked where he was +going, but why he was found near the fire? Who was he? they asked, +repeating their first question, which he had declined to answer. Again +he replied that he could not answer it. + +"Put that down, that's bad... very bad," sternly remarked the +general with the white mustache and red flushed face. + + +On the fourth day fires broke out on the Zubovski rampart. + +Pierre and thirteen others were moved to the coach house of a +merchant's house near the Crimean bridge. On his way through the +streets Pierre felt stifled by the smoke which seemed to hang over the +whole city. Fires were visible on all sides. He did not then realize +the significance of the burning of Moscow, and looked at the fires +with horror. + +He passed four days in the coach house near the Crimean bridge and +during that time learned, from the talk of the French soldiers, that +all those confined there were awaiting a decision which might come any +day from the marshal. What marshal this was, Pierre could not learn +from the soldiers. Evidently for them "the marshal" represented a very +high and rather mysterious power. + +These first days, before the eighth of September when the +prisoners were had up for a second examination, were the hardest of +all for Pierre. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +On the eighth of September an officer--a very important one +judging by the respect the guards showed him--entered the coach +house where the prisoners were. This officer, probably someone on +the staff, was holding a paper in his hand, and called over all the +Russians there, naming Pierre as "the man who does not give his name." +Glancing indolently and indifferently at all the prisoners, he ordered +the officer in charge to have them decently dressed and tidied up +before taking them to the marshal. An hour later a squad of soldiers +arrived and Pierre with thirteen others was led to the Virgin's Field. +It was a fine day, sunny after rain, and the air was unusually pure. +The smoke did not hang low as on the day when Pierre had been taken +from the guardhouse on the Zubovski rampart, but rose through the pure +air in columns. No flames were seen, but columns of smoke rose on +all sides, and all Moscow as far as Pierre could see was one vast +charred ruin. On all sides there were waste spaces with only stoves +and chimney stacks still standing, and here and there the blackened +walls of some brick houses. Pierre gazed at the ruins and did not +recognize districts he had known well. Here and there he could see +churches that had not been burned. The Kremlin, which was not +destroyed, gleamed white in the distance with its towers and the +belfry of Ivan the Great. The domes of the New Convent of the Virgin +glittered brightly and its bells were ringing particularly clearly. +These bells reminded Pierre that it was Sunday and the feast of the +Nativity of the Virgin. But there seemed to be no one to celebrate +this holiday: everywhere were blackened ruins, and the few Russians to +be seen were tattered and frightened people who tried to hide when +they saw the French. + +It was plain that the Russian nest was ruined and destroyed, but +in place of the Russian order of life that had been destroyed, +Pierre unconsciously felt that a quite different, firm, French order +had been established over this ruined nest. He felt this in the +looks of the soldiers who, marching in regular ranks briskly and +gaily, were escorting him and the other criminals; he felt it in the +looks of an important French official in a carriage and pair driven by +a soldier, whom they met on the way. He felt it in the merry sounds of +regimental music he heard from the left side of the field, and felt +and realized it especially from the list of prisoners the French +officer had read out when he came that morning. Pierre had been +taken by one set of soldiers and led first to one and then to +another place with dozens of other men, and it seemed that they +might have forgotten him, or confused him with the others. But no: the +answers he had given when questioned had come back to him in his +designation as "the man who does not give his name," and under that +appellation, which to Pierre seemed terrible, they were now leading +him somewhere with unhesitating assurance on their faces that he and +all the other prisoners were exactly the ones they wanted and that +they were being taken to the proper place. Pierre felt himself to be +an insignificant chip fallen among the wheels of a machine whose +action he did not understand but which was working well. + +He and the other prisoners were taken to the right side of the +Virgin's Field, to a large white house with an immense garden not +far from the convent. This was Prince Shcherbitov's house, where +Pierre had often been in other days, and which, as he learned from the +talk of the soldiers, was now occupied by the marshal, the Duke of +Eckmuhl (Davout). + +They were taken to the entrance and led into the house one by one. +Pierre was the sixth to enter. He was conducted through a glass +gallery, an anteroom, and a hall, which were familiar to him, into a +long low study at the door of which stood an adjutant. + +Davout, spectacles on nose, sat bent over a table at the further end +of the room. Pierre went close up to him, but Davout, evidently +consulting a paper that lay before him, did not look up. Without +raising his eyes, he said in a low voice: + +"Who are you?" + +Pierre was silent because he was incapable of uttering a word. To +him Davout was not merely a French general, but a man notorious for +his cruelty. Looking at his cold face, as he sat like a stern +schoolmaster who was prepared to wait awhile for an answer, Pierre +felt that every instant of delay might cost him his life; but he did +not know what to say. He did not venture to repeat what he had said at +his first examination, yet to disclose his rank and position was +dangerous and embarrassing. So he was silent. But before he had +decided what to do, Davout raised his head, pushed his spectacles back +on his forehead, screwed up his eyes, and looked intently at him. + +"I know that man," he said in a cold, measured tone, evidently +calculated to frighten Pierre. + +The chill that had been running down Pierre's back now seized his +head as in a vise. + +"You cannot know me, General, I have never seen you..." + +"He is a Russian spy," Davout interrupted, addressing another +general who was present, but whom Pierre had not noticed. + +Davout turned away. With an unexpected reverberation in his voice +Pierre rapidly began: + +"No, monseigneur," he said, suddenly remembering that Davout was a +duke. "No, monseigneur, you cannot have known me. I am a militia +officer and have not quitted Moscow." + +"Your name?" asked Davout. + +"Bezukhov." + +"What proof have I that you are not lying?" + +"Monseigneur!" exclaimed Pierre, not in an offended but in a +pleading voice. + +Davout looked up and gazed intently at him. For some seconds they +looked at one another, and that look saved Pierre. Apart from +conditions of war and law, that look established human relations +between the two men. At that moment an immense number of things passed +dimly through both their minds, and they realized that they were +both children of humanity and were brothers. + +At the first glance, when Davout had only raised his head from the +papers where human affairs and lives were indicated by numbers, Pierre +was merely a circumstance, and Davout could have shot him without +burdening his conscience with an evil deed, but now he saw in him a +human being. He reflected for a moment. + +"How can you show me that you are telling the truth?" said Davout +coldly. + +Pierre remembered Ramballe, and named him and his regiment and the +street where the house was. + +"You are not what you say," returned Davout. + +In a trembling, faltering voice Pierre began adducing proofs of +the truth of his statements. + +But at that moment an adjutant entered and reported something to +Davout. + +Davout brightened up at the news the adjutant brought, and began +buttoning up his uniform. It seemed that he had quite forgotten +Pierre. + +When the adjutant reminded him of the prisoner, he jerked his head +in Pierre's direction with a frown and ordered him to be led away. But +where they were to take him Pierre did not know: back to the coach +house or to the place of execution his companions had pointed out to +him as they crossed the Virgin's Field. + +He turned his head and saw that the adjutant was putting another +question to Davout. + +"Yes, of course!" replied Davout, but what this "yes" meant, +Pierre did not know. + +Pierre could not afterwards remember how he went, whether it was +far, or in which direction. His faculties were quite numbed, he was +stupefied, and noticing nothing around him went on moving his legs +as the others did till they all stopped and he stopped too. The only +thought in his mind at that time was: who was it that had really +sentenced him to death? Not the men on the commission that had first +examined him--not one of them wished to or, evidently, could have done +it. It was not Davout, who had looked at him in so human a way. In +another moment Davout would have realized that he was doing wrong, but +just then the adjutant had come in and interrupted him. The +adjutant, also, had evidently had no evil intent though he might +have refrained from coming in. Then who was executing him, killing +him, depriving him of life--him, Pierre, with all his memories, +aspirations, hopes, and thoughts? Who was doing this? And Pierre +felt that it was no one. + +It was a system--a concurrence of circumstances. + +A system of some sort was killing him--Pierre--depriving him of +life, of everything, annihilating him. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +From Prince Shcherbatov's house the prisoners were led straight down +the Virgin's Field, to the left of the nunnery, as far as a kitchen +garden in which a post had been set up. Beyond that post a fresh pit +had been dug in the ground, and near the post and the pit a large +crowd stood in a semicircle. The crowd consisted of a few Russians and +many of Napoleon's soldiers who were not on duty--Germans, Italians, +and Frenchmen, in a variety of uniforms. To the right and left of +the post stood rows of French troops in blue uniforms with red +epaulets and high boots and shakos. + +The prisoners were placed in a certain order, according to the +list (Pierre was sixth), and were led to the post. Several drums +suddenly began to beat on both sides of them, and at that sound Pierre +felt as if part of his soul had been torn away. He lost the power of +thinking or understanding. He could only hear and see. And he had only +one wish--that the frightful thing that had to happen should happen +quickly. Pierre looked round at his fellow prisoners and scrutinized +them. + +The two first were convicts with shaven heads. One was tall and +thin, the other dark, shaggy, and sinewy, with a flat nose. The +third was a domestic serf, about forty-five years old, with grizzled +hair and a plump, well-nourished body. The fourth was a peasant, a +very handsome man with a broad, light-brown beard and black eyes. +The fifth was a factory hand, a thin, sallow-faced lad of eighteen +in a loose coat. + +Pierre heard the French consulting whether to shoot them +separately or two at a time. "In couples," replied the officer in +command in a calm voice. There was a stir in the ranks of the soldiers +and it was evident that they were all hurrying--not as men hurry to do +something they understand, but as people hurry to finish a necessary +but unpleasant and incomprehensible task. + +A French official wearing a scarf came up to the right of the row of +prisoners and read out the sentence in Russian and in French. + +Then two pairs of Frenchmen approached the criminals and at the +officer's command took the two convicts who stood first in the row. +The convicts stopped when they reached the post and, while sacks +were being brought, looked dumbly around as a wounded beast looks at +an approaching huntsman. One crossed himself continually, the other +scratched his back and made a movement of the lips resembling a smile. +With hurried hands the soldiers blindfolded them, drawing the sacks +over their heads, and bound them to the post. + +Twelve sharpshooters with muskets stepped out of the ranks with a +firm regular tread and halted eight paces from the post. Pierre turned +away to avoid seeing what was going to happen. Suddenly a crackling, +rolling noise was heard which seemed to him louder than the most +terrific thunder, and he looked round. There was some smoke, and the +Frenchmen were doing something near the pit, with pale faces and +trembling hands. Two more prisoners were led up. In the same way and +with similar looks, these two glanced vainly at the onlookers with +only a silent appeal for protection in their eyes, evidently unable to +understand or believe what was going to happen to them. They could not +believe it because they alone knew what their life meant to them, +and so they neither understood nor believed that it could be taken +from them. + +Again Pierre did not wish to look and again turned away; but again +the sound as of a frightful explosion struck his ear, and at the +same moment he saw smoke, blood, and the pale, scared faces of the +Frenchmen who were again doing something by the post, their +trembling hands impeding one another. Pierre, breathing heavily, +looked around as if asking what it meant. The same question was +expressed in all the looks that met his. + +On the faces of all the Russians and of the French soldiers and +officers without exception, he read the same dismay, horror, and +conflict that were in his own heart. "But who, after all, is doing +this? They are all suffering as I am. Who then is it? Who?" flashed +for an instant through his mind. + +"Sharpshooters of the 86th, forward!" shouted someone. The fifth +prisoner, the one next to Pierre, was led away--alone. Pierre did +not understand that he was saved, that he and the rest had been +brought there only to witness the execution. With ever-growing horror, +and no sense of joy or relief, he gazed at what was taking place. +The fifth man was the factory lad in the loose cloak. The moment +they laid hands on him he sprang aside in terror and clutched at +Pierre. (Pierre shuddered and shook himself free.) The lad was +unable to walk. They dragged him along, holding him up under the arms, +and he screamed. When they got him to the post he grew quiet, as if he +suddenly understood something. Whether he understood that screaming +was useless or whether he thought it incredible that men should kill +him, at any rate he took his stand at the post, waiting to be +blindfolded like the others, and like a wounded animal looked around +him with glittering eyes. + +Pierre was no longer able to turn away and close his eyes. His +curiosity and agitation, like that of the whole crowd, reached the +highest pitch at this fifth murder. Like the others this fifth man +seemed calm; he wrapped his loose cloak closer and rubbed one bare +foot with the other. + +When they began to blindfold him he himself adjusted the knot +which hurt the back of his head; then when they propped him against +the bloodstained post, he leaned back and, not being comfortable in +that position, straightened himself, adjusted his feet, and leaned +back again more comfortably. Pierre did not take his eyes from him and +did not miss his slightest movement. + +Probably a word of command was given and was followed by the reports +of eight muskets; but try as he would Pierre could not afterwards +remember having heard the slightest sound of the shots. He only saw +how the workman suddenly sank down on the cords that held him, how +blood showed itself in two places, how the ropes slackened under the +weight of the hanging body, and how the workman sat down, his head +hanging unnaturally and one leg bent under him. Pierre ran up to the +post. No one hindered him. Pale, frightened people were doing +something around the workman. The lower jaw of an old Frenchman with a +thick mustache trembled as he untied the ropes. The body collapsed. +The soldiers dragged it awkwardly from the post and began pushing it +into the pit. + +They all plainly and certainly knew that they were criminals who +must hide the traces of their guilt as quickly as possible. + +Pierre glanced into the pit and saw that the factory lad was lying +with his knees close up to his head and one shoulder higher than the +other. That shoulder rose and fell rhythmically and convulsively, +but spadefuls of earth were already being thrown over the whole +body. One of the soldiers, evidently suffering, shouted gruffly and +angrily at Pierre to go back. But Pierre did not understand him and +remained near the post, and no one drove him away. + +When the pit had been filled up a command was given. Pierre was +taken back to his place, and the rows of troops on both sides of the +post made a half turn and went past it at a measured pace. The +twenty-four sharpshooters with discharged muskets, standing in the +center of the circle, ran back to their places as the companies passed +by. + +Pierre gazed now with dazed eyes at these sharpshooters who ran in +couples out of the circle. All but one rejoined their companies. +This one, a young soldier, his face deadly pale, his shako pushed +back, and his musket resting on the ground, still stood near the pit +at the spot from which he had fired. He swayed like a drunken man, +taking some steps forward and back to save himself from falling. An +old, noncommissioned officer ran out of the ranks and taking him by +the elbow dragged him to his company. The crowd of Russians and +Frenchmen began to disperse. They all went away silently and with +drooping heads. + +"That will teach them to start fires," said one of the Frenchmen. + +Pierre glanced round at the speaker and saw that it was a soldier +who was trying to find some relief after what had been done, but was +not able to do so. Without finishing what he had begun to say he +made a hopeless movement with his arm and went away. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +After the execution Pierre was separated from the rest of the +prisoners and placed alone in a small, ruined, and befouled church. + +Toward evening a noncommissioned officer entered with two soldiers +and told him that he had been pardoned and would now go to the +barracks for the prisoners of war. Without understanding what was said +to him, Pierre got up and went with the soldiers. They took him to the +upper end of the field, where there were some sheds built of charred +planks, beams, and battens, and led him into one of them. In the +darkness some twenty different men surrounded Pierre. He looked at +them without understanding who they were, why they were there, or what +they wanted of him. He heard what they said, but did not understand +the meaning of the words and made no kind of deduction from or +application of them. He replied to questions they put to him, but +did not consider who was listening to his replies, nor how they +would understand them. He looked at their faces and figures, but +they all seemed to him equally meaningless. + +From the moment Pierre had witnessed those terrible murders +committed by men who did not wish to commit them, it was as if the +mainspring of his life, on which everything depended and which made +everything appear alive, had suddenly been wrenched out and everything +had collapsed into a heap of meaningless rubbish. Though he did not +acknowledge it to himself, his faith in the right ordering of the +universe, in humanity, in his own soul, and in God, had been +destroyed. He had experienced this before, but never so strongly as +now. When similar doubts had assailed him before, they had been the +result of his own wrongdoing, and at the bottom of his heart he had +felt that relief from his despair and from those doubts was to be +found within himself. But now he felt that the universe had crumbled +before his eyes and only meaningless ruins remained, and this not by +any fault of his own. He felt that it was not in his power to regain +faith in the meaning of life. + +Around him in the darkness men were standing and evidently something +about him interested them greatly. They were telling him something and +asking him something. Then they led him away somewhere, and at last he +found himself in a corner of the shed among men who were laughing +and talking on all sides. + +"Well, then, mates... that very prince who..." some voice at the +other end of the shed was saying, with a strong emphasis on the word +who. + +Sitting silent and motionless on a heap of straw against the wall, +Pierre sometimes opened and sometimes closed his eyes. But as soon +as he closed them he saw before him the dreadful face of the factory +lad--especially dreadful because of its simplicity--and the faces of +the murderers, even more dreadful because of their disquiet. And he +opened his eyes again and stared vacantly into the darkness around +him. + +Beside him in a stooping position sat a small man of whose +presence he was first made aware by a strong smell of perspiration +which came from him every time he moved. This man was doing +something to his legs in the darkness, and though Pierre could not see +his face he felt that the man continually glanced at him. On growing +used to the darkness Pierre saw that the man was taking off his leg +bands, and the way he did it aroused Pierre's interest. + +Having unwound the string that tied the band on one leg, he +carefully coiled it up and immediately set to work on the other leg, +glancing up at Pierre. While one hand hung up the first string the +other was already unwinding the band on the second leg. In this way, +having carefully removed the leg bands by deft circular motions of his +arm following one another uninterruptedly, the man hung the leg +bands up on some pegs fixed above his head. Then he took out a +knife, cut something, closed the knife, placed it under the head of +his bed, and, seating himself comfortably, clasped his arms round +his lifted knees and fixed his eyes on Pierre. The latter was +conscious of something pleasant, comforting, and well rounded in these +deft movements, in the man's well-ordered arrangements in his +corner, and even in his very smell, and he looked at the man without +taking his eyes from him. + +"You've seen a lot of trouble, sir, eh?" the little man suddenly +said. + +And there was so much kindliness and simplicity in his singsong +voice that Pierre tried to reply, but his jaw trembled and he felt +tears rising to his eyes. The little fellow, giving Pierre no time +to betray his confusion, instantly continued in the same pleasant +tones: + +"Eh, lad, don't fret!" said he, in the tender singsong caressing +voice old Russian peasant women employ. "Don't fret, friend--'suffer +an hour, live for an age!' that's how it is, my dear fellow. And +here we live, thank heaven, without offense. Among these folk, too, +there are good men as well as bad," said he, and still speaking, he +turned on his knees with a supple movement, got up, coughed, and +went off to another part of the shed. + +"Eh, you rascal!" Pierre heard the same kind voice saying at the +other end of the shed. "So you've come, you rascal? She remembers... +Now, now, that'll do!" + +And the soldier, pushing away a little dog that was jumping up at +him, returned to his place and sat down. In his hands he had something +wrapped in a rag. + +"Here, eat a bit, sir," said he, resuming his former respectful tone +as he unwrapped and offered Pierre some baked potatoes. "We had soup +for dinner and the potatoes are grand!" + +Pierre had not eaten all day and the smell of the potatoes seemed +extremely pleasant to him. He thanked the soldier and began to eat. + +"Well, are they all right?" said the soldier with a smile. "You +should do like this." + +He took a potato, drew out his clasp knife, cut the potato into +two equal halves on the palm of his hand, sprinkled some salt on it +from the rag, and handed it to Pierre. + +"The potatoes are grand!" he said once more. "Eat some like that!" + +Pierre thought he had never eaten anything that tasted better. + +"Oh, I'm all right," said he, "but why did they shoot those poor +fellows? The last one was hardly twenty." + +"Tss, tt...!" said the little man. "Ah, what a sin... what a sin!" +he added quickly, and as if his words were always waiting ready in his +mouth and flew out involuntarily he went on: "How was it, sir, that +you stayed in Moscow?" + +"I didn't think they would come so soon. I stayed accidentally," +replied Pierre. + +"And how did they arrest you, dear lad? At your house?" + +"No, I went to look at the fire, and they arrested me there, and +tried me as an incendiary." + +"Where there's law there's injustice," put in the little man. + +"And have you been here long?" Pierre asked as he munched the last +of the potato. + +"I? It was last Sunday they took me, out of a hospital in Moscow." + +"Why, are you a soldier then?" + +"Yes, we are soldiers of the Apsheron regiment. I was dying of +fever. We weren't told anything. There were some twenty of us lying +there. We had no idea, never guessed at all." + +"And do you feel sad here?" Pierre inquired. + +"How can one help it, lad? My name is Platon, and the surname is +Karataev," he added, evidently wishing to make it easier for Pierre to +address him. "They call me 'little falcon' in the regiment. How is one +to help feeling sad? Moscow--she's the mother of cities. How can one +see all this and not feel sad? But 'the maggot gnaws the cabbage, +yet dies first'; that's what the old folks used to tell us," he +added rapidly. + +"What? What did you say?" asked Pierre. + +"Who? I?" said Karataev. "I say things happen not as we plan but +as God judges," he replied, thinking that he was repeating what he had +said before, and immediately continued: + +"Well, and you, have you a family estate, sir? And a house? So you +have abundance, then? And a housewife? And your old parents, are +they still living?" he asked. + +And though it was too dark for Pierre to see, he felt that a +suppressed smile of kindliness puckered the soldier's lips as he put +these questions. He seemed grieved that Pierre had no parents, +especially that he had no mother. + +"A wife for counsel, a mother-in-law for welcome, but there's none +as dear as one's own mother!" said he. "Well, and have you little +ones?" he went on asking. + +Again Pierre's negative answer seemed to distress him, and he +hastened to add: + +"Never mind! You're young folks yet, and please God may still have +some. The great thing is to live in harmony...." + +"But it's all the same now," Pierre could not help saying. + +"Ah, my dear fellow!" rejoined Karataev, "never decline a prison +or a beggar's sack!" + +He seated himself more comfortably and coughed, evidently +preparing to tell a long story. + +"Well, my dear fellow, I was still living at home," he began. "We +had a well-to-do homestead, plenty of land, we peasants lived well and +our house was one to thank God for. When Father and we went out mowing +there were seven of us. We lived well. We were real peasants. It so +happened..." + +And Platon Karataev told a long story of how he had gone into +someone's copse to take wood, how he had been caught by the keeper, +had been tried, flogged, and sent to serve as a soldier. + +"Well, lad," and a smile changed the tone of his voice "we thought +it was a misfortune but it turned out a blessing! If it had not been +for my sin, my brother would have had to go as a soldier. But he, my +younger brother, had five little ones, while I, you see, only left a +wife behind. We had a little girl, but God took her before I went as a +soldier. I come home on leave and I'll tell you how it was, I look and +see that they are living better than before. The yard full of +cattle, the women at home, two brothers away earning wages, and only +Michael the youngest, at home. Father, he says, 'All my children are +the same to me: it hurts the same whichever finger gets bitten. But if +Platon hadn't been shaved for a soldier, Michael would have had to +go.' called us all to him and, will you believe it, placed us in front +of the icons. 'Michael,' he says, 'come here and bow down to his feet; +and you, young woman, you bow down too; and you, grandchildren, also +bow down before him! Do you understand?' he says. That's how it is, +dear fellow. Fate looks for a head. But we are always judging, 'that's +not well--that's not right!' Our luck is like water in a dragnet: +you pull at it and it bulges, but when you've drawn it out it's empty! +That's how it is." + +And Platon shifted his seat on the straw. + +After a short silence he rose. + +"Well, I think you must be sleepy," said he, and began rapidly +crossing himself and repeating: + +"Lord Jesus Christ, holy Saint Nicholas, Frola and Lavra! Lord Jesus +Christ, holy Saint Nicholas, Frola and Lavra! Lord Jesus Christ, +have mercy on us and save us!" he concluded, then bowed to the ground, +got up, sighed, and sat down again on his heap of straw. "That's the +way. Lay me down like a stone, O God, and raise me up like a loaf," he +muttered as he lay down, pulling his coat over him. + +"What prayer was that you were saying?" asked Pierre. + +"Eh?" murmured Platon, who had almost fallen asleep. "What was I +saying? I was praying. Don't you pray?" + +"Yes, I do," said Pierre. "But what was that you said: Frola and +Lavra?" + +"Well, of course," replied Platon quickly, "the horses' saints. +One must pity the animals too. Eh, the rascal! Now you've curled up +and got warm, you daughter of a bitch!" said Karataev, touching the +dog that lay at his feet, and again turning over he fell asleep +immediately. + +Sounds of crying and screaming came from somewhere in the distance +outside, and flames were visible through the cracks of the shed, but +inside it was quiet and dark. For a long time Pierre did not sleep, +but lay with eyes open in the darkness, listening to the regular +snoring of Platon who lay beside him, and he felt that the world +that had been shattered was once more stirring in his soul with a +new beauty and on new and unshakable foundations. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Twenty-three soldiers, three officers, and two officials were +confined in the shed in which Pierre had been placed and where he +remained for four weeks. + +When Pierre remembered them afterwards they all seemed misty figures +to him except Platon Karataev, who always remained in his mind a +most vivid and precious memory and the personification of everything +Russian, kindly, and round. When Pierre saw his neighbor next +morning at dawn the first impression of him, as of something round, +was fully confirmed: Platon's whole figure--in a French overcoat +girdled with a cord, a soldier's cap, and bast shoes--was round. His +head was quite round, his back, chest, shoulders, and even his arms, +which he held as if ever ready to embrace something, were rounded, his +pleasant smile and his large, gentle brown eyes were also round. + +Platon Karataev must have been fifty, judging by his stories of +campaigns he had been in, told as by an old soldier. He did not +himself know his age and was quite unable to determine it. But his +brilliantly white, strong teeth which showed in two unbroken +semicircles when he laughed--as he often did--were all sound and good, +there was not a gray hair in his beard or on his head, and his whole +body gave an impression of suppleness and especially of firmness and +endurance. + +His face, despite its fine, rounded wrinkles, had an expression of +innocence and youth, his voice was pleasant and musical. But the chief +peculiarity of his speech was its directness and appositeness. It +was evident that he never considered what he had said or was going +to say, and consequently the rapidity and justice of his intonation +had an irresistible persuasiveness. + +His physical strength and agility during the first days of his +imprisonment were such that he seemed not to know what fatigue and +sickness meant. Every night before lying down, he said: "Lord, lay +me down as a stone and raise me up as a loaf!" and every morning on +getting up, he said: "I lay down and curled up, I get up and shake +myself." And indeed he only had to lie down, to fall asleep like a +stone, and he only had to shake himself, to be ready without a +moment's delay for some work, just as children are ready to play +directly they awake. He could do everything, not very well but not +badly. He baked, cooked, sewed, planed, and mended boots. He was +always busy, and only at night allowed himself conversation--of +which he was fond--and songs. He did not sing like a trained singer +who knows he is listened to, but like the birds, evidently giving vent +to the sounds in the same way that one stretches oneself or walks +about to get rid of stiffness, and the sounds were always +high-pitched, mournful, delicate, and almost feminine, and his face at +such times was very serious. + +Having been taken prisoner and allowed his beard to grow, he +seemed to have thrown off all that had been forced upon him- +everything military and alien to himself--and had returned to his +former peasant habits. + +"A soldier on leave--a shirt outside breeches," he would say. + +He did not like talking about his life as a soldier, though he did +not complain, and often mentioned that he had not been flogged once +during the whole of his army service. When he related anything it +was generally some old and evidently precious memory of his +"Christian" life, as he called his peasant existence. The proverbs, of +which his talk was full, were for the most part not the coarse and +indecent saws soldiers employ, but those folk sayings which taken +without a context seem so insignificant, but when used appositely +suddenly acquire a significance of profound wisdom. + +He would often say the exact opposite of what he had said on a +previous occasion, yet both would be right. He liked to talk and he +talked well, adorning his speech with terms of endearment and with +folk sayings which Pierre thought he invented himself, but the chief +charm of his talk lay in the fact that the commonest events--sometimes +just such as Pierre had witnessed without taking notice of them- +assumed in Karataev's a character of solemn fitness. He liked to +hear the folk tales one of the soldiers used to tell of an evening +(they were always the same), but most of all he liked to hear +stories of real life. He would smile joyfully when listening to such +stories, now and then putting in a word or asking a question to make +the moral beauty of what he was told clear to himself. Karataev had no +attachments, friendships, or love, as Pierre understood them, but +loved and lived affectionately with everything life brought him in +contact with, particularly with man--not any particular man, but those +with whom he happened to be. He loved his dog, his comrades, the +French, and Pierre who was his neighbor, but Pierre felt that in spite +of Karataev's affectionate tenderness for him (by which he +unconsciously gave Pierre's spiritual life its due) he would not +have grieved for a moment at parting from him. And Pierre began to +feel in the same way toward Karataev. + +To all the other prisoners Platon Karataev seemed a most ordinary +soldier. They called him "little falcon" or "Platosha," chaffed him +good-naturedly, and sent him on errands. But to Pierre he always +remained what he had seemed that first night: an unfathomable, +rounded, eternal personification of the spirit of simplicity and +truth. + +Platon Karataev knew nothing by heart except his prayers. When he +began to speak he seemed not to know how he would conclude. + +Sometimes Pierre, struck by the meaning of his words, would ask +him to repeat them, but Platon could never recall what he had said a +moment before, just as he never could repeat to Pierre the words of +his favorite song: native and birch tree and my heart is sick occurred +in it, but when spoken and not sung, no meaning could be got out of +it. He did not, and could not, understand the meaning of words apart +from their context. Every word and action of his was the manifestation +of an activity unknown to him, which was his life. But his life, as he +regarded it, had no meaning as a separate thing. It had meaning only +as part of a whole of which he was always conscious. His words and +actions flowed from him as evenly, inevitably, and spontaneously as +fragrance exhales from a flower. He could not understand the value +or significance of any word or deed taken separately. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +When Princess Mary heard from Nicholas that her brother was with the +Rostovs at Yaroslavl she at once prepared to go there, in spite of her +aunt's efforts to dissuade her--and not merely to go herself but to +take her nephew with her. Whether it were difficult or easy, +possible or impossible, she did not ask and did not want to know: it +was her duty not only herself to be near her brother who was perhaps +dying, but to do everything possible to take his son to him, and so +she prepared to set off. That she had not heard from Prince Andrew +himself, Princess Mary attributed to his being too weak to write or to +his considering the long journey too hard and too dangerous for her +and his son. + +In a few days Princess Mary was ready to start. Her equipages were +the huge family coach in which she had traveled to Voronezh, a +semiopen trap, and a baggage cart. With her traveled Mademoiselle +Bourienne, little Nicholas and his tutor, her old nurse, three +maids, Tikhon, and a young footman and courier her aunt had sent to +accompany her. + +The usual route through Moscow could not be thought of, and the +roundabout way Princess Mary was obliged to take through Lipetsk, +Ryazan, Vladimir, and Shuya was very long and, as post horses were not +everywhere obtainable, very difficult, and near Ryazan where the +French were said to have shown themselves was even dangerous. + +During this difficult journey Mademoiselle Bourienne, Dessalles, and +Princess Mary's servants were astonished at her energy and firmness of +spirit. She went to bed later and rose earlier than any of them, and +no difficulties daunted her. Thanks to her activity and energy, +which infected her fellow travelers, they approached Yaroslavl by +the end of the second week. + +The last days of her stay in Voronezh had been the happiest of her +life. Her love for Rostov no longer tormented or agitated her. It +filled her whole soul, had become an integral part of herself, and she +no longer struggled against it. Latterly she had become convinced that +she loved and was beloved, though she never said this definitely to +herself in words. She had become convinced of it at her last interview +with Nicholas, when he had come to tell her that her brother was +with the Rostovs. Not by a single word had Nicholas alluded to the +fact that Prince Andrew's relations with Natasha might, if he +recovered, be renewed, but Princess Mary saw by his face that he +knew and thought of this. + +Yet in spite of that, his relation to her--considerate, delicate, +and loving--not only remained unchanged, but it sometimes seemed to +Princess Mary that he was even glad that the family connection between +them allowed him to express his friendship more freely. She knew +that she loved for the first and only time in her life and felt that +she was beloved, and was happy in regard to it. + +But this happiness on one side of her spiritual nature did not +prevent her feeling grief for her brother with full force; on the +contrary, that spiritual tranquility on the one side made it the +more possible for her to give full play to her feeling for her +brother. That feeling was so strong at the moment of leaving +Voronezh that those who saw her off, as they looked at her careworn, +despairing face, felt sure she would fall ill on the journey. But +the very difficulties and preoccupations of the journey, which she +took so actively in hand, saved her for a while from her grief and +gave her strength. + +As always happens when traveling, Princess Mary thought only of +the journey itself, forgetting its object. But as she approached +Yaroslavl the thought of what might await her there--not after many +days, but that very evening--again presented itself to her and her +agitation increased to its utmost limit. + +The courier who had been sent on in advance to find out where the +Rostovs were staying in Yaroslavl, and in what condition Prince Andrew +was, when he met the big coach just entering the town gates was +appalled by the terrible pallor of the princess' face that looked +out at him from the window. + +"I have found out everything, your excellency: the Rostovs are +staying at the merchant Bronnikov's house, in the Square not far +from here, right above the Volga," said the courier. + +Princess Mary looked at him with frightened inquiry, not +understanding why he did not reply to what she chiefly wanted to know: +how was her brother? Mademoiselle Bourienne put that question for her. + +"How is the prince?" she asked. + +"His excellency is staying in the same house with them." + +"Then he is alive," thought Princess Mary, and asked in a low voice: +"How is he?" + +"The servants say he is still the same." + +What "still the same" might mean Princess Mary did not ask, but with +an unnoticed glance at little seven-year-old Nicholas, who was sitting +in front of her looking with pleasure at the town, she bowed her +head and did not raise it again till the heavy coach, rumbling, +shaking and swaying, came to a stop. The carriage steps clattered as +they were let down. + +The carriage door was opened. On the left there was water--a great +river--and on the right a porch. There were people at the entrance: +servants, and a rosy girl with a large plait of black hair, smiling as +it seemed to Princess Mary in an unpleasantly affected way. (This +was Sonya.) Princess Mary ran up the steps. "This way, this way!" said +the girl, with the same artificial smile, and the princess found +herself in the hall facing an elderly woman of Oriental type, who came +rapidly to meet her with a look of emotion. This was the countess. She +embraced Princess Mary and kissed her. + +"Mon enfant!" she muttered, "je vous aime et vous connais depuis +longtemps."* + + +*"My child! I love you and have known you a long time." + + Despite her excitement, Princess Mary realized that this was the +countess and that it was necessary to say something to her. Hardly +knowing how she did it, she contrived to utter a few polite phrases in +French in the same tone as those that had been addressed to her, and +asked: "How is he?" + +"The doctor says that he is not in danger," said the countess, but +as she spoke she raised her eyes with a sigh, and her gesture conveyed +a contradiction of her words. + +"Where is he? Can I see him--can I?" asked the princess. + +"One moment, Princess, one moment, my dear! Is this his son?" said +the countess, turning to little Nicholas who was coming in with +Dessalles. "There will be room for everybody, this is a big house. Oh, +what a lovely boy!" + +The countess took Princess Mary into the drawing room, where Sonya +was talking to Mademoiselle Bourienne. The countess caressed the +boy, and the old count came in and welcomed the princess. He had +changed very much since Princess Mary had last seen him. Then he had +been a brisk, cheerful, self-assured old man; now he seemed a pitiful, +bewildered person. While talking to Princess Mary he continually +looked round as if asking everyone whether he was doing the right +thing. After the destruction of Moscow and of his property, thrown out +of his accustomed groove he seemed to have lost the sense of his own +significance and to feel that there was no longer a place for him in +life. + +In spite of her one desire to see her brother as soon as possible, +and her vexation that at the moment when all she wanted was to see him +they should be trying to entertain her and pretending to admire her +nephew, the princess noticed all that was going on around her and felt +the necessity of submitting, for a time, to this new order of things +which she had entered. She knew it to be necessary, and though it +was hard for her she was not vexed with these people. + +"This is my niece," said the count, introducing Sonya--"You don't +know her, Princess?" + +Princess Mary turned to Sonya and, trying to stifle the hostile +feeling that arose in her toward the girl, she kissed her. But she +felt oppressed by the fact that the mood of everyone around her was so +far from what was in her own heart. + +"Where is he?" she asked again, addressing them all. + +"He is downstairs. Natasha is with him," answered Sonya, flushing. +"We have sent to ask. I think you must be tired, Princess." + +Tears of vexation showed themselves in Princess Mary's eyes. She +turned away and was about to ask the countess again how to go to +him, when light, impetuous, and seemingly buoyant steps were heard +at the door. The princess looked round and saw Natasha coming in, +almost running--that Natasha whom she had liked so little at their +meeting in Moscow long since. + +But hardly had the princess looked at Natasha's face before she +realized that here was a real comrade in her grief, and consequently a +friend. She ran to meet her, embraced her, and began to cry on her +shoulder. + +As soon as Natasha, sitting at the head of Prince Andrew's bed, +heard of Princess Mary's arrival, she softly left his room and +hastened to her with those swift steps that had sounded buoyant to +Princess Mary. + +There was only one expression on her agitated face when she ran into +the drawing room--that of love--boundless love for him, for her, and +for all that was near to the man she loved; and of pity, suffering for +others, and passionate desire to give herself entirely to helping +them. It was plain that at that moment there was in Natasha's heart no +thought of herself or of her own relations with Prince Andrew. + +Princess Mary, with her acute sensibility, understood all this at +the first glance at Natasha's face, and wept on her shoulder with +sorrowful pleasure. + +"Come, come to him, Mary," said Natasha, leading her into the +other room. + +Princess Mary raised her head, dried her eyes, and turned to +Natasha. She felt that from her she would be able to understand and +learn everything. + +"How..." she began her question but stopped short. + +She felt that it was impossible to ask, or to answer, in words. +Natasha's face eyes would have to tell her all more clearly +and profoundly. + +Natasha was gazing at her, but seemed afraid and in doubt whether to +say all she knew or not; she seemed to feel that before those luminous +eyes which penetrated into the very depths of her heart, it was +impossible not to tell the whole truth which she saw. And suddenly, +Natasha's lips twitched, ugly wrinkles gathered round her mouth, and +covering her face with her hands she burst into sobs. + +Princess Mary understood. + +But she still hoped, and asked, in words she herself did not trust: + +"But how is his wound? What is his general condition?" + +"You, you... will see," was all Natasha could say. + +They sat a little while downstairs near his room till they had +left off crying and were able to go to him with calm faces. + +"How has his whole illness gone? Is it long since he grew worse? +When did this happen?" Princess Mary inquired. + +Natasha told her that at first there had been danger from his +feverish condition and the pain he suffered, but at Troitsa that had +passed and the doctor had only been afraid of gangrene. That danger +had also passed. When they reached Yaroslavl the wound had begun to +fester (Natasha knew all about such things as festering) and the +doctor had said that the festering might take a normal course. Then +fever set in, but the doctor had said the fever was not very serious. + +"But two days ago this suddenly happened," said Natasha, +struggling with her sobs. "I don't know why, but you will see what +he is like." + +"Is he weaker? Thinner?" asked the princess. + +"No, it's not that, but worse. You will see. O, Mary, he is too +good, he cannot, cannot live, because..." + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +When Natasha opened Prince Andrew's door with a familiar movement +and let Princess Mary pass into the room before her, the princess felt +the sobs in her throat. Hard as she had tried to prepare herself, +and now tried to remain tranquil, she knew that she would be unable to +look at him without tears. + +The princess understood what Natasha had meant by the words: "two +days ago this suddenly happened." She understood those words to mean +that he had suddenly softened and that this softening and gentleness +were signs of approaching death. As she stepped to the door she +already saw in imagination Andrew's face as she remembered it in +childhood, a gentle, mild, sympathetic face which he had rarely shown, +and which therefore affected her very strongly. She was sure he +would speak soft, tender words to her such as her father had uttered +before his death, and that she would not be able to bear it and +would burst into sobs in his presence. Yet sooner or later it had to +be, and she went in. The sobs rose higher and higher in her throat +as she more and more clearly distinguished his form and her +shortsighted eyes tried to make out his features, and then she saw his +face and met his gaze. + +He was lying in a squirrel-fur dressing gown on a divan, +surrounded by pillows. He was thin and pale. In one thin, +translucently white hand he held a handkerchief, while with the +other he stroked the delicate mustache he had grown, moving his +fingers slowly. His eyes gazed at them as they entered. + +On seeing his face and meeting his eyes Princess Mary's pace +suddenly slackened, she felt her tears dry up and her sobs ceased. She +suddenly felt guilty and grew timid on catching the expression of +his face and eyes. + +"But in what am I to blame?" she asked herself. And his cold, +stern look replied: "Because you are alive and thinking of the living, +while I..." + +In the deep gaze that seemed to look not outwards but +inwards there was an almost hostile expression as he slowly regarded +his sister and Natasha. + +He kissed his sister, holding her hand in his as was their wont. + +"How are you, Mary? How did you manage to get here?" said he in a +voice as calm and aloof as his look. + +Had he screamed in agony, that scream would not have struck such +horror into Princess Mary's heart as the tone of his voice. + +"And have you brought little Nicholas?" he asked in the same slow, +quiet manner and with an obvious effort to remember. + +"How are you now?" said Princess Mary, herself surprised at what she +was saying. + +"That, my dear, you must ask the doctor," he replied, and again +making an evident effort to be affectionate, he said with his lips +only (his words clearly did not correspond to his thoughts): + +"Merci, chere amie, d'etre venue."* + + +*"Thank you for coming, my dear." + + +Princess Mary pressed his hand. The pressure made him wince just +perceptibly. He was silent, and she did not know what to say. She +now understood what had happened to him two days before. In his words, +his tone, and especially in that calm, almost antagonistic look +could be felt an estrangement from everything belonging to this world, +terrible in one who is alive. Evidently only with an effort did he +understand anything living; but it was obvious that he failed to +understand, not because he lacked the power to do so but because he +understood something else--something the living did not and could +not understand--and which wholly occupied his mind. + +"There, you see how strangely fate has brought us together," said +he, breaking the silence and pointing to Natasha. "She looks after +me all the time." + +Princess Mary heard him and did not understand how he could say such +a thing. He, the sensitive, tender Prince Andrew, how could he say +that, before her whom he loved and who loved him? Had he expected to +live he could not have said those words in that offensively cold tone. +If he had not known that he was dying, how could he have failed to +pity her and how could he speak like that in her presence? The only +explanation was that he was indifferent, because something else, +much more important, had been revealed to him. + +The conversation was cold and disconnected and continually broke +off. + +"Mary came by way of Ryazan," said Natasha. + +Prince Andrew did not notice that she called his sister Mary, and +only after calling her so in his presence did Natasha notice it +herself. + +"Really?" he asked. + +"They told her that all Moscow has been burned down, and that..." + +Natasha stopped. It was impossible to talk. It was plain that he was +making an effort to listen, but could not do so. + +"Yes, they say it's burned," he said. "It's a great pity," and he +gazed straight before him, absently stroking his mustache with his +fingers. + +"And so you have met Count Nicholas, Mary?" Prince Andrew suddenly +said, evidently wishing to speak pleasantly to them. "He wrote here +that he took a great liking to you," he went on simply and calmly, +evidently unable to understand all the complex significance his +words had for living people. "If you liked him too, it would be a good +thing for you to get married," he added rather more quickly, as if +pleased at having found words he had long been seeking. + +Princess Mary heard his words but they had no meaning for her, +except as a proof of how far away he now was from everything living. + +"Why talk of me?" she said quietly and glanced at Natasha. + +Natasha, who felt her glance, did not look at her. All three were +again silent. + +"Andrew, would you like..." Princess Mary suddenly said in a +trembling voice, "would you like to see little Nicholas? He is +always talking about you!" + +Prince Andrew smiled just perceptibly and for the first time, but +Princess Mary, who knew his face so well, saw with horror that he +did not smile with pleasure or affection for his son, but with +quiet, gentle irony because he thought she was trying what she +believed to be the last means of arousing him. + +"Yes, I shall be very glad to see him. Is he quite well?" + +When little Nicholas was brought into Prince Andrew's room he looked +at his father with frightened eyes, but did not cry, because no one +else was crying. Prince Andrew kissed him and evidently did not know +what to say to him. + +When Nicholas had been led away, Princess Mary again went up to +her brother, kissed him, and unable to restrain her tears any longer +began to cry. + +He looked at her attentively. + +"Is it about Nicholas?" he asked. + +Princess Mary nodded her head, weeping. + +"Mary, you know the Gosp..." but he broke off. + +"What did you say?" + +"Nothing. You mustn't cry here," he said, looking at her with the +same cold expression. + + +When Princess Mary began to cry, he understood that she was crying +at the thought that little Nicholas would be left without a father. +With a great effort he tried to return to life and to see things +from their point of view. + +"Yes, to them it must seem sad!" he thought. "But how simple it is. + +"The fowls of the air sow not, neither do they reap, yet your Father +feedeth them," he said to himself and wished to say to Princess +Mary; "but no, they will take it their own way, they won't understand! +They can't understand that all those feelings they prize so--all our +feelings, all those ideas that seem so important to us, are +unnecessary. We cannot understand one another," and he remained +silent. + + +Prince Andrew's little son was seven. He could scarcely read, and +knew nothing. After that day he lived through many things, gaining +knowledge, observation, and experience, but had he possessed all the +faculties he afterwards acquired, he could not have had a better or +more profound understanding of the meaning of the scene he had +witnessed between his father, Mary, and Natasha, than he had then. +He understood it completely, and, leaving the room without crying, +went silently up to Natasha who had come out with him and looked shyly +at her with his beautiful, thoughtful eyes, then his uplifted, rosy +upper lip trembled and leaning his head against her he began to cry. + +After that he avoided Dessalles and the countess who caressed him +and either sat alone or came timidly to Princess Mary, or to Natasha +of whom he seemed even fonder than of his aunt, and clung to them +quietly and shyly. + +When Princess Mary had left Prince Andrew she fully understood +what Natasha's face had told her. She did not speak any more to +Natasha of hopes of saving his life. She took turns with her beside +his sofa, and did not cry any more, but prayed continually, turning in +soul to that Eternal and Unfathomable, whose presence above the +dying man was now so evident. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Not only did Prince Andrew know he would die, but he felt that he +was dying and was already half dead. He was conscious of an +aloofness from everything earthly and a strange and joyous lightness +of existence. Without haste or agitation he awaited what was coming. +That inexorable, eternal, distant, and unknown the presence of which +he had felt continually all his life--was now near to him and, by +the strange lightness he experienced, almost comprehensible and +palpable... + + +Formerly he had feared the end. He had twice experienced that +terribly tormenting fear of death--the end--but now he no longer +understood that fear. + + He had felt it for the first time when the shell spun like a top +before him, and he looked at the fallow field, the bushes, and the +sky, and knew that he was face to face with death. When he came to +himself after being wounded and the flower of eternal, unfettered love +had instantly unfolded itself in his soul as if freed from the bondage +of life that had restrained it, he no longer feared death and ceased +to think about it. + +During the hours of solitude, suffering, and partial delirium he +spent after he was wounded, the more deeply he penetrated into the new +principle of eternal love revealed to him, the more he unconsciously +detached himself from earthly life. To love everything and everybody +and always to sacrifice oneself for love meant not to love anyone, not +to live this earthly life. And the more imbued he became with that +principle of love, the more he renounced life and the more +completely he destroyed that dreadful barrier which--in the absence of +such love--stands between life and death. When during those first days +he remembered that he would have to die, he said to himself: "Well, +what of it? So much the better!" + +But after the night in Mytishchi when, half delirious, he had seen +her for whom he longed appear before him and, having pressed her +hand to his lips, had shed gentle, happy tears, love for a +particular woman again crept unobserved into his heart and once more +bound him to life. And joyful and agitating thoughts began to occupy +his mind. Recalling the moment at the ambulance station when he had +seen Kuragin, he could not now regain the feeling he then had, but was +tormented by the question whether Kuragin was alive. And he dared +not inquire. + +His illness pursued its normal physical course, but what Natasha +referred to when she said: "This suddenly happened," had occurred +two days before Princess Mary arrived. It was the last spiritual +struggle between life and death, in which death gained the victory. It +was the unexpected realization of the fact that he still valued life +as presented to him in the form of his love for Natasha, and a last, +though ultimately vanquished, attack of terror before the unknown. + +It was evening. As usual after dinner he was slightly feverish, +and his thoughts were preternaturally clear. Sonya was sitting by +the table. He began to doze. Suddenly a feeling of happiness seized +him. + +"Ah, she has come!" thought he. + +And so it was: in Sonya's place sat Natasha who had just come in +noiselessly. + +Since she had begun looking after him, he had always experienced +this physical consciousness of her nearness. She was sitting in an +armchair placed sideways, screening the light of the candle from +him, and was knitting a stocking. She had learned to knit stockings +since Prince Andrew had casually mentioned that no one nursed the sick +so well as old nurses who knit stockings, and that there is +something soothing in the knitting of stockings. The needles clicked +lightly in her slender, rapidly moving hands, and he could clearly see +the thoughtful profile of her drooping face. She moved, and the ball +rolled off her knees. She started, glanced round at him, and screening +the candle with her hand stooped carefully with a supple and exact +movement, picked up the ball, and regained her former position. + +He looked at her without moving and saw that she wanted to draw a +deep breath after stooping, but refrained from doing so and breathed +cautiously. + +At the Troitsa monastery they had spoken of the past, and he had +told her that if he lived he would always thank God for his wound +which had brought them together again, but after that they never spoke +of the future. + +"Can it or can it not be?" he now thought as he looked at her and +listened to the light click of the steel needles. "Can fate have +brought me to her so strangely only for me to die?... Is it possible +that the truth of life has been revealed to me only to show me that +I have spent my life in falsity? I love her more than anything in +the world! But what am I to do if I love her?" he thought, and he +involuntarily groaned, from a habit acquired during his sufferings. + +On hearing that sound Natasha put down the stocking, leaned nearer +to him, and suddenly, noticing his shining eyes, stepped lightly up to +him and bent over him. + +"You are not asleep?" + +"No, I have been looking at you a long time. I felt you come in. +No one else gives me that sense of soft tranquillity that you do... +that light. I want to weep for joy." + +Natasha drew closer to him. Her face shone with rapturous joy. + +"Natasha, I love you too much! More than anything in the world." + +"And I!"--She turned away for an instant. "Why too much?" she asked. + +"Why too much?... Well, what do you, what do you feel in your +soul, your whole soul--shall I live? What do you think?" + +"I am sure of it, sure!" Natasha almost shouted, taking hold of both +his hands with a passionate movement. + +He remained silent awhile. + +"How good it would be!" and taking her hand he kissed it. + +Natasha felt happy and agitated, but at once remembered that this +would not do and that he had to be quiet. + +"But you have not slept," she said, repressing her joy. "Try to +sleep... please!" + +He pressed her hand and released it, and she went back to the candle +and sat down again in her former position. Twice she turned and looked +at him, and her eyes met his beaming at her. She set herself a task on +her stocking and resolved not to turn round till it was finished. + +Soon he really shut his eyes and fell asleep. He did not sleep +long and suddenly awoke with a start and in a cold perspiration. + +As he fell asleep he had still been thinking of the subject that now +always occupied his mind--about life and death, and chiefly about +death. He felt himself nearer to it. + +"Love? What is love?" he thought. + +"Love hinders death. Love is life. All, everything that I +understand, I understand only because I love. Everything is, +everything exists, only because I love. Everything is united by it +alone. Love is God, and to die means that I, a particle of love, shall +return to the general and eternal source." These thoughts seemed to +him comforting. But they were only thoughts. Something was lacking +in them, they were not clear, they were too one-sidedly personal and +brain-spun. And there was the former agitation and obscurity. He +fell asleep. + +He dreamed that he was lying in the room he really was in, but +that he was quite well and unwounded. Many various, indifferent, and +insignificant people appeared before him. He talked to them and +discussed something trivial. They were preparing to go away somewhere. +Prince Andrew dimly realized that all this was trivial and that he had +more important cares, but he continued to speak, surprising them by +empty witticisms. Gradually, unnoticed, all these persons began to +disappear and a single question, that of the closed door, superseded +all else. He rose and went to the door to bolt and lock it. Everything +depended on whether he was, or was not, in time to lock it. He went, +and tried to hurry, but his legs refused to move and he knew he +would not be in time to lock the door though he painfully strained all +his powers. He was seized by an agonizing fear. And that fear was +the fear of death. It stood behind the door. But just when he was +clumsily creeping toward the door, that dreadful something on the +other side was already pressing against it and forcing its way in. +Something not human--death--was breaking in through that door, and had +to be kept out. He seized the door, making a final effort to hold it +back--to lock it was no longer possible--but his efforts were weak and +clumsy and the door, pushed from behind by that terror, opened and +closed again. + +Once again it pushed from outside. His last superhuman efforts +were vain and both halves of the door noiselessly opened. It +entered, and it was death, and Prince Andrew died. + +But at the instant he died, Prince Andrew remembered that he was +asleep, and at the very instant he died, having made an effort, he +awoke. + +"Yes, it was death! I died--and woke up. Yes, death is an +awakening!" And all at once it grew light in his soul and the veil +that had till then concealed the unknown was lifted from his spiritual +vision. He felt as if powers till then confined within him had been +liberated, and that strange lightness did not again leave him. + +When, waking in a cold perspiration, he moved on the divan, +Natasha went up and asked him what was the matter. He did not answer +and looked at her strangely, not understanding. + +That was what had happened to him two days before Princess Mary's +arrival. From that day, as the doctor expressed it, the wasting +fever assumed a malignant character, but what the doctor said did +not interest Natasha, she saw the terrible moral symptoms which to her +were more convincing. + +From that day an awakening from life came to Prince Andrew +together with his awakening from sleep. And compared to the duration +of life it did not seem to him slower than an awakening from sleep +compared to the duration of a dream. + +There was nothing terrible or violent in this comparatively slow +awakening. + +His last days and hours passed in an ordinary and simple way. Both +Princess Mary and Natasha, who did not leave him, felt this. They +did not weep or shudder and during these last days they themselves +felt that they were not attending on him (he was no longer there, he +had left them) but on what reminded them most closely of him--his +body. Both felt this so strongly that the outward and terrible side of +death did not affect them and they did not feel it necessary to foment +their grief. Neither in his presence nor out of it did they weep, +nor did they ever talk to one another about him. They felt that they +could not express in words what they understood. + +They both saw that he was sinking slowly and quietly, deeper and +deeper, away from them, and they both knew that this had to be so +and that it was right. + +He confessed, and received communion: everyone came to take leave of +him. When they brought his son to him, he pressed his lips to the +boy's and turned away, not because he felt it hard and sad (Princess +Mary and Natasha understood that) but simply because he thought it was +all that was required of him, but when they told him to bless the boy, +he did what was demanded and looked round as if asking whether there +was anything else he should do. + +When the last convulsions of the body, which the spirit was leaving, +occurred, Princess Mary and Natasha were present. + +"Is it over?" said Princess Mary when his body had for a few minutes +lain motionless, growing cold before them. Natasha went up, looked +at the dead eyes, and hastened to close them. She closed them but +did not kiss them, but clung to that which reminded her most nearly of +him--his body. + +"Where has he gone? Where is he now?..." + +When the body, washed and dressed, lay in the coffin on a table, +everyone came to take leave of him and they all wept. + +Little Nicholas cried because his heart was rent by painful +perplexity. The countess and Sonya cried from pity for Natasha and +because he was no more. The old count cried because he felt that +before long, he, too, must take the same terrible step. + +Natasha and Princess Mary also wept now, but not because of their +own personal grief; they wept with a reverent and softening emotion +which had taken possession of their souls at the consciousness of +the simple and solemn mystery of death that had been accomplished in +their presence. + + + + + +BOOK THIRTEEN: 1812 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Man's mind cannot grasp the causes of events in their +completeness, but the desire to find those causes is implanted in +man's soul. And without considering the multiplicity and complexity of +the conditions any one of which taken separately may seem to be the +cause, he snatches at the first approximation to a cause that seems to +him intelligible and says: "This is the cause!" In historical events +(where the actions of men are the subject of observation) the first +and most primitive approximation to present itself was the will of the +gods and, after that, the will of those who stood in the most +prominent position--the heroes of history. But we need only +penetrate to the essence of any historic event--which lies in the +activity of the general mass of men who take part in it--to be +convinced that the will of the historic hero does not control the +actions of the mass but is itself continually controlled. It may +seem to be a matter of indifference whether we understand the +meaning of historical events this way or that; yet there is the same +difference between a man who says that the people of the West moved on +the East because Napoleon wished it and a man who says that this +happened because it had to happen, as there is between those who +declared that the earth was stationary and that the planets moved +round it and those who admitted that they did not know what upheld the +earth, but knew there were laws directing its movement and that of the +other planets. There is, and can be, no cause of an historical event +except the one cause of all causes. But there are laws directing +events, and some of these laws are known to us while we are +conscious of others we cannot comprehend. The discovery of these +laws is only possible when we have quite abandoned the +attempt to find the cause in the will of some one man, just as the +discovery of the laws of the motion of the planets was possible only +when men abandoned the conception of the fixity of the earth. + +The historians consider that, next to the battle of Borodino and the +occupation of Moscow by the enemy and its destruction by fire, the +most important episode of the war of 1812 was the movement of the +Russian army from the Ryazana to the Kaluga road and to the Tarutino +camp--the so-called flank march across the Krasnaya Pakhra River. They +ascribe the glory of that achievement of genius to different men and +dispute as to whom the honor is due. Even foreign historians, +including the French, acknowledge the genius of the Russian commanders +when they speak of that flank march. But it is hard to understand +why military writers, and following them others, consider this flank +march to be the profound conception of some one man who saved Russia +and destroyed Napoleon. In the first place it is hard to understand +where the profundity and genius of this movement lay, for not much +mental effort was needed to see that the best position for an army +when it is not being attacked is where there are most provisions; +and even a dull boy of thirteen could have guessed that the best +position for an army after its retreat from Moscow in 1812 was on +the Kaluga road. So it is impossible to understand by what reasoning +the historians reach the conclusion that this maneuver was a +profound one. And it is even more difficult to understand just why +they think that this maneuver was calculated to save Russia and +destroy the French; for this flank march, had it been preceded, +accompanied, or followed by other circumstances, might have proved +ruinous to the Russians and salutary for the French. If the position +of the Russian army really began to improve from the time of that +march, it does not at all follow that the march was the cause of it. + +That flank march might not only have failed to give any advantage to +the Russian army, but might in other circumstances have led to its +destruction. What would have happened had Moscow not burned down? If +Murat had not lost sight of the Russians? If Napoleon had not remained +inactive? If the Russian army at Krasnaya Pakhra had given battle as +Bennigsen and Barclay advised? What would have happened had the French +attacked the Russians while they were marching beyond the Pakhra? What +would have happened if on approaching Tarutino, Napoleon had +attacked the Russians with but a tenth of the energy he had shown when +he attacked them at Smolensk? What would have happened had the +French moved on Petersburg?... In any of these eventualities the flank +march that brought salvation might have proved disastrous. + +The third and most incomprehensible thing is that people studying +history deliberately avoid seeing that this flank march cannot be +attributed to any one man, that no one ever foresaw it, and that in +reality, like the retreat from Fili, it did not suggest itself to +anyone in its entirety, but resulted--moment by moment, step by +step, event by event--from an endless number of most diverse +circumstances and was only seen in its entirety when it had been +accomplished and belonged to the past. + +At the council at Fili the prevailing thought in the minds of the +Russian commanders was the one naturally suggesting itself, namely, +a direct retreat by the Nizhni road. In proof of this there is the +fact that the majority of the council voted for such a retreat, and +above all there is the well-known conversation after the council, +between the commander in chief and Lanskoy, who was in charge of the +commissariat department. Lanskoy informed the commander in chief +that the army supplies were for the most part stored along the Oka +in the Tula and Ryazan provinces, and that if they retreated on Nizhni +the army would be separated from its supplies by the broad river +Oka, which cannot be crossed early in winter. This was the first +indication of the necessity of deviating from what had previously +seemed the most natural course--a direct retreat on Nizhni-Novgorod. +The army turned more to the south, along the Ryazan road and nearer to +its supplies. Subsequently the inactivity of the French (who even +lost sight of the Russian army), concern for the safety of the arsenal +at Tula, and especially the advantages of drawing nearer to its +supplies caused the army to turn still further south to the Tula road. +Having crossed over, by a forced march, to the Tula road beyond the +Pakhra, the Russian commanders intended to remain at Podolsk and had +no thought of the Tarutino position; but innumerable circumstances and +the reappearance of French troops who had for a time lost touch with +the Russians, and projects of giving battle, and above all the +abundance of provisions in Kaluga province, obliged our army to turn +still more to the south and to cross from the Tula to the Kaluga +road and go to Tarutino, which was between the roads along which those +supplies lay. Just as it is impossible to say when it was decided to +abandon Moscow, so it is impossible to say precisely when, or by whom, +it was decided to move to Tarutino. Only when the army had got +there, as the result of innumerable and varying forces, did people +begin to assure themselves that they had desired this movement and +long ago foreseen its result. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The famous flank movement merely consisted in this: after the +advance of the French had ceased, the Russian army, which had been +continually retreating straight back from the invaders, deviated +from that direct course and, not finding itself pursued, was naturally +drawn toward the district where supplies were abundant. + +If instead of imagining to ourselves commanders of genius leading +the Russian army, we picture that army without any leaders, it could +not have done anything but make a return movement toward Moscow, +describing an arc in the direction where most provisions were to be +found and where the country was richest. + +That movement from the Nizhni to the Ryazan, Tula, and Kaluga +roads was so natural that even the Russian marauders moved in that +direction, and demands were sent from Petersburg for Kutuzov to take +his army that way. At Tarutino Kutuzov received what was almost a +reprimand from the Emperor for having moved his army along the +Ryazan road, and the Emperor's letter indicated to him the very +position he had already occupied near Kaluga. + +Having rolled like a ball in the direction of the impetus given by +the whole campaign and by the battle of Borodino, the Russian army- +when the strength of that impetus was exhausted and no fresh push +was received--assumed the position natural to it. + +Kutuzov's merit lay, not in any strategic maneuver of genius, as +it is called, but in the fact that he alone understood the +significance of what had happened. He alone then understood the +meaning of the French army's inactivity, he alone continued to +assert that the battle of Borodino had been a victory, he alone--who +as commander in chief might have been expected to be eager to +attack--employed his whole strength to restrain the Russian army +from useless engagements. + +The beast wounded at Borodino was lying where the fleeing hunter had +left him; but whether he was still alive, whether he was strong and +merely lying low, the hunter did not know. Suddenly the beast was +heard to moan. + +The moan of that wounded beast (the French army) which betrayed +its calamitous condition was the sending of Lauriston to Kutuzov's +camp with overtures for peace. + +Napoleon, with his usual assurance that whatever entered his head +was right, wrote to Kutuzov the first words that occurred to him, +though they were meaningless. + + +MONSIEUR LE PRINCE KOUTOUZOV: I am sending one of my +adjutants-general to discuss several interesting questions with you. I +beg your Highness to credit what he says to you, especially when he +expresses the sentiment of esteem and special regard I have long +entertained for your person. This letter having no other object, I +pray God, monsieur le Prince Koutouzov, to keep you in His holy and +gracious protection! + +NAPOLEON + +MOSCOW, OCTOBER 30, 1812 + + +Kutuzov replied: "I should be cursed by posterity were I looked on +as the initiator of a settlement of any sort. Such is the present +spirit of my nation." But he continued to exert all his powers to +restrain his troops from attacking. + +During the month that the French troops were pillaging in Moscow and +the Russian troops were quietly encamped at Tarutino, a change had +taken place in the relative strength of the two armies--both in spirit +and in number--as a result of which the superiority had passed to +the Russian side. Though the condition and numbers of the French +army were unknown to the Russians, as soon as that change occurred the +need of attacking at once showed itself by countless signs. These +signs were: Lauriston's mission; the abundance of provisions at +Tarutino; the reports coming in from all sides of the inactivity and +disorder of the French; the flow of recruits to our regiments; the +fine weather; the long rest the Russian soldiers had enjoyed, and +the impatience to do what they had been assembled for, which usually +shows itself in an army that has been resting; curiosity as to what +the French army, so long lost sight of, was doing; the boldness with +which our outposts now scouted close up to the French stationed at +Tarutino; the news of easy successes gained by peasants and +guerrilla troops over the French, the envy aroused by this; the desire +for revenge that lay in the heart of every Russian as long as the +French were in Moscow, and (above all) a dim consciousness in every +soldier's mind that the relative strength of the armies had changed +and that the advantage was now on our side. There was a substantial +change in the relative strength, and an advance had become inevitable. +And at once, as a clock begins to strike and chime as soon as the +minute hand has completed a full circle, this change was shown by an +increased activity, whirring, and chiming in the higher spheres. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The Russian army was commanded by Kutuzov and his staff, and also by +the Emperor from Petersburg. Before the news of the abandonment of +Moscow had been received in Petersburg, a detailed plan of the whole +campaign had been drawn up and sent to Kutuzov for his guidance. +Though this plan had been drawn up on the supposition that Moscow +was still in our hands, it was approved by the staff and accepted as a +basis for action. Kutuzov only replied that movements arranged from +a distance were always difficult to execute. So fresh instructions +were sent for the solution of difficulties that might be +encountered, as well as fresh people who were to watch Kutuzov's +actions and report upon them. + +Besides this, the whole staff of the Russian army was now +reorganized. The posts left vacant by Bagration, who had been +killed, and by Barclay, who had gone away in dudgeon, had to be +filled. Very serious consideration was given to the question whether +it would be better to put A in B's place and B in D's, or on the +contrary to put D in A's place, and so on--as if anything more than +A's or B's satisfaction depended on this. + +As a result of the hostility between Kutuzov and Bennigsen, his +Chief of Staff, the presence of confidential representatives of the +Emperor, and these transfers, a more than usually complicated play +of parties was going on among the staff of the army. A was undermining +B, D was undermining C, and so on in all possible combinations and +permutations. In all these plottings the subject of intrigue was +generally the conduct of the war, which all these men believed they +were directing; but this affair of the war went on independently of +them, as it had to go: that is, never in the way people devised, but +flowing always from the essential attitude of the masses. Only in +the highest spheres did all these schemes, crossings, and +interminglings appear to be a true reflection of what had to happen. + + +Prince Michael Ilarionovich! (wrote the Emperor on the second of +October in a letter that reached Kutuzov after the battle at Tarutino) +Since September 2 Moscow has been in the hands of the enemy. Your last +reports were written on the twentieth, and during all this time not +only has no action been taken against the enemy or for the relief of +the ancient capital, but according to your last report you have even +retreated farther. Serpukhov is already occupied by an enemy +detachment and Tula with its famous arsenal so indispensable to the +army, is in danger. From General Wintzingerode's reports, I see that +an enemy corps of ten thousand men is moving on the Petersburg road. +Another corps of several thousand men is moving on Dmitrov. A third +has advanced along the Vladimir road, and a fourth, rather +considerable detachment is stationed between Ruza and Mozhaysk. +Napoleon himself was in Moscow as late as the twenty-fifth. In view of +all this information, when the enemy has scattered his forces in large +detachments, and with Napoleon and his Guards in Moscow, is it +possible that the enemy's forces confronting you are so considerable +as not to allow of your taking the offensive? On the contrary, he is +probably pursuing you with detachments, or at most with an army +corps much weaker than the army entrusted to you. It would seem +that, availing yourself of these circumstances, you might +advantageously attack a weaker one and annihilate him, or at least +oblige him to retreat, retaining in our hands an important part of the +provinces now occupied by the enemy, and thereby averting danger +from Tula and other towns in the interior. You will be responsible +if the enemy is able to direct a force of any size against +Petersburg to threaten this capital in which it has not been +possible to retain many troops; for with the army entrusted to you, +and acting with resolution and energy, you have ample means to avert +this fresh calamity. Remember that you have still to answer to our +offended country for the loss of Moscow. You have experienced my +readiness to reward you. That readiness will not weaken in me, but I +and Russia have a right to expect from you all the zeal, firmness, and +success which your intellect, military talent, and the courage of +the troops you command justify us in expecting. + + +But by the time this letter, which proved that the real relation +of the forces had already made itself felt in Petersburg, was +dispatched, Kutuzov had found himself unable any longer to restrain +the army he commanded from attacking and a battle had taken place. + +On the second of October a Cossack, Shapovalov, who was out +scouting, killed one hare and wounded another. Following the wounded +hare he made his way far into the forest and came upon the left +flank of Murat's army, encamped there without any precautions. The +Cossack laughingly told his comrades how he had almost fallen into the +hands of the French. A cornet, hearing the story, informed his +commander. + +The Cossack was sent for and questioned. The Cossack officers wished +to take advantage of this chance to capture some horses, but one of +the superior officers, who was acquainted with the higher authorities, +reported the incident to a general on the staff. The state of +things on the staff had of late been exceedingly strained. Ermolov had +been to see Bennigsen a few days previously and had entreated him to +use his influence with the commander in chief to induce him to take +the offensive. + +"If I did not know you I should think you did not want what you +are asking for. I need only advise anything and his Highness is sure +to do the opposite," replied Bennigsen. + +The Cossack's report, confirmed by horse patrols who were sent +out, was the final proof that events had matured. The tightly coiled +spring was released, the clock began to whirr and the chimes to +play. Despite all his supposed power, his intellect, his experience, +and his knowledge of men, Kutuzov--having taken into consideration the +Cossack's report, a note from Bennigsen who sent personal reports to +the Emperor, the wishes he supposed the Emperor to hold, and the +fact that all the generals expressed the same wish--could no longer +check the inevitable movement, and gave the order to do what he +regarded as useless and harmful--gave his approval, that is, to the +accomplished fact. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Bennigsen's note and the Cossack's information that the left flank +of the French was unguarded were merely final indications that it +was necessary to order an attack, and it was fixed for the fifth of +October. + +On the morning of the fourth of October Kutuzov signed the +dispositions. Toll read them to Ermolov, asking him to attend to the +further arrangements. + +"All right--all right. I haven't time just now," replied Ermolov, +and left the hut. + +The dispositions drawn up by Toll were very good. As in the +Austerlitz dispositions, it was written--though not in German this +time: + +"The First Column will march here and here," "the Second Column will +march there and there," and so on; and on paper, all these columns +arrived at their places at the appointed time and destroyed the enemy. +Everything had been admirably thought out as is usual in dispositions, +and as is always the case, not a single column reached its place at +the appointed time. + +When the necessary number of copies of the dispositions had been +prepared, an officer was summoned and sent to deliver them to +Ermolov to deal with. A young officer of the Horse Guards, Kutuzov's +orderly, pleased at the importance of the mission entrusted to him, +went to Ermolov's quarters. + +"Gone away," said Ermolov's orderly. + +The officer of the Horse Guards went to a general with whom +Ermolov was often to be found. + +"No, and the general's out too." + +The officer, mounting his horse, rode off to someone else. + +"No, he's gone out." + +"If only they don't make me responsible for this delay! What a +nuisance it is!" thought the officer, and he rode round the whole +camp. One man said he had seen Ermolov ride past with some other +generals, others said he must have returned home. The officer searched +till six o'clock in the evening without even stopping to eat. +Ermolov was nowhere to be found and no one knew where he was. The +officer snatched a little food at a comrade's, and rode again to the +vanguard to find Miloradovich. Miloradovich too was away, but here +he was told that he had gone to a ball at General Kikin's and that +Ermolov was probably there too. + +"But where is it?" + +"Why, there, over at Echkino," said a Cossack officer, pointing to a +country house in the far distance. + +"What, outside our line?" + +"They've put two regiments as outposts, and they're having such a +spree there, it's awful! Two bands and three sets of singers!" + +The officer rode out beyond our lines to Echkino. While still at a +distance he heard as he rode the merry sounds of a soldier's dance +song proceeding from the house. + +"In the meadows... in the meadows!" he heard, accompanied by +whistling and the sound of a torban, drowned every now and then by +shouts. These sounds made his spirits rise, but at the same time he +was afraid that he would be blamed for not having executed sooner +the important order entrusted to him. It was already past eight +o'clock. He dismounted and went up into the porch of a large country +house which had remained intact between the Russian and French forces. +In the refreshment room and the hall, footmen were bustling about with +wine and viands. Groups of singers stood outside the windows. The +officer was admitted and immediately saw all the chief generals of the +army together, and among them Ermolov's big imposing figure. They +all had their coats unbuttoned and were standing in a semicircle +with flushed and animated faces, laughing loudly. In the middle of the +room a short handsome general with a red face was dancing the trepak +with much spirit and agility. + +"Ha, ha, ha! Bravo, Nicholas Ivanych! Ha, ha, ha!" + +The officer felt that by arriving with important orders at such a +moment he was doubly to blame, and he would have preferred to wait; +but one of the generals espied him and, hearing what he had come +about, informed Ermolov. + +Ermolov came forward with a frown on his face and, hearing what +the officer had to say, took the papers from him without a word. + + +"You think he went off just by chance?" said a comrade, who was on +the staff that evening, to the officer of the Horse Guards, +referring to Ermolov. "It was a trick. It was done on purpose to get +Konovnitsyn into trouble. You'll see what a mess there'll be +tomorrow." + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Next day the decrepit Kutuzov, having given orders to be called +early, said his prayers, dressed, and, with an unpleasant +consciousness of having to direct a battle he did not approve of, +got into his caleche and drove from Letashovka (a village three and +a half miles from Tarutino) to the place where the attacking columns +were to meet. He sat in the caleche, dozing and waking up by turns, +and listening for any sound of firing on the right as an indication +that the action had begun. But all was still quiet. A damp dull autumn +morning was just dawning. On approaching Tarutino Kutuzov noticed +cavalrymen leading their horses to water across the road along which +he was driving. Kutuzov looked at them searchingly, stopped his +carriage, and inquired what regiment they belonged to. They belonged +to a column that should have been far in front and in ambush long +before then. "It may be a mistake," thought the old commander in +chief. But a little further on he saw infantry regiments with their +arms piled and the soldiers, only partly dressed, eating their rye +porridge and carrying fuel. He sent for an officer. The officer +reported that no order to advance had been received. + +"How! Not rec..." Kutuzov began, but checked himself immediately and +sent for a senior officer. Getting out of his caleche, he waited +with drooping head and breathing heavily, pacing silently up and down. +When Eykhen, the officer of the general staff whom he had summoned, +appeared, Kutuzov went purple in the face, not because that officer +was to blame for the mistake, but because he was an object of +sufficient importance for him to vent his wrath on. Trembling and +panting the old man fell into that state of fury in which he sometimes +used to roll on the ground, and he fell upon Eykhen, threatening him +with his hands, shouting and loading him with gross abuse. Another +man, Captain Brozin, who happened to turn up and who was not at all to +blame, suffered the same fate. + +"What sort of another blackguard are you? I'll have you shot! +Scoundrels!" yelled Kutuzov in a hoarse voice, waving his arms and +reeling. + +He was suffering physically. He, the commander in chief, a Serene +Highness who everybody said possessed powers such as no man had ever +had in Russia, to be placed in this position--made the laughingstock +of the whole army! "I needn't have been in such a hurry to pray +about today, or have kept awake thinking everything over all night," +thought he to himself. "When I was a chit of an officer no one would +have dared to mock me so... and now!" He was in a state of physical +suffering as if from corporal punishment, and could not avoid +expressing it by cries of anger and distress. But his strength soon +began to fail him, and looking about him, conscious of having said +much that was amiss, he again got into his caleche and drove back in +silence. + +His wrath, once expended, did not return, and blinking feebly he +listened to excuses and self-justifications (Ermolov did not come to +see him till the next day) and to the insistence of Bennigsen, +Konovnitsyn, and Toll that the movement that had miscarried should +be executed next day. And once more Kutuzov had to consent. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Next day the troops assembled in their appointed places in the +evening and advanced during the night. It was an autumn night with +dark purple clouds, but no rain. The ground was damp but not muddy, +and the troops advanced noiselessly, only occasionally a jingling of +the artillery could be faintly heard. The men were forbidden to talk +out loud, to smoke their pipes, or to strike a light, and they tried +to prevent their horses neighing. The secrecy of the undertaking +heightened its charm and they marched gaily. Some columns, +supposing they had reached their destination, halted, piled arms, and +settled down on the cold ground, but the majority marched all night +and arrived at places where they evidently should not have been. + +Only Count Orlov-Denisov with his Cossacks (the least important +detachment of all) got to his appointed place at the right time. +This detachment halted at the outskirts of a forest, on the path +leading from the village of Stromilova to Dmitrovsk. + +Toward dawn, Count Orlov-Denisov, who had dozed off, was awakened by +a deserter from the French army being brought to him. This was a +Polish sergeant of Poniatowski's corps, who explained in Polish that +he had come over because he had been slighted in the service: that +he ought long ago to have been made an officer, that he was braver +than any of them, and so he had left them and wished to pay them +out. He said that Murat was spending the night less than a mile from +where they were, and that if they would let him have a convoy of a +hundred men he would capture him alive. Count Orlov-Denisov +consulted his fellow officers. + +The offer was too tempting to be refused. Everyone volunteered to go +and everybody advised making the attempt. After much disputing and +arguing, Major-General Grekov with two Cossack regiments decided to go +with the Polish sergeant. + +"Now, remember," said Count Orlov-Denisov to the sergeant at +parting, "if you have been lying I'll have you hanged like a dog; +but if it's true you shall have a hundred gold pieces!" + +Without replying, the sergeant, with a resolute air, mounted and +rode away with Grekov whose men had quickly assembled. They +disappeared into the forest, and Count Orlov-Denisov, having seen +Grekov off, returned, shivering from the freshness of the early dawn +and excited by what he had undertaken on his own responsibility, and +began looking at the enemy camp, now just visible in the deceptive +light of dawn and the dying campfires. Our columns ought to have begun +to appear on an open declivity to his right. He looked in that +direction, but though the columns would have been visible quite far +off, they were not to be seen. It seemed to the count that things were +beginning to stir in the French camp, and his keen-sighted adjutant +confirmed this. + +"Oh, it is really too late," said Count Orlov, looking at the camp. + +As often happens when someone we have trusted is no longer before +our eyes, it suddenly seemed quite clear and obvious to him that the +sergeant was an impostor, that he had lied, and that the whole Russian +attack would be ruined by the absence of those two regiments, which he +would lead away heaven only knew where. How could one capture a +commander in chief from among such a mass of troops! + +"I am sure that rascal was lying," said the count. + +"They can still be called back," said one of his suite, who like +Count Orlov felt distrustful of the adventure when he looked at the +enemy's camp. + +"Eh? Really... what do you think? Should we let them go on or not?" + +"Will you have them fetched back?" + +"Fetch them back, fetch them back!" said Count Orlov with sudden +determination, looking at his watch. "It will be too late. It is quite +light." + +And the adjutant galloped through the forest after Grekov. When +Grekov returned, Count Orlov-Denisov, excited both by the abandoned +attempt and by vainly awaiting the infantry columns that still did not +appear, as well as by the proximity of the enemy, resolved to advance. +All his men felt the same excitement. + +"Mount!" he commanded in a whisper. The men took their places and +crossed themselves.... "Forward, with God's aid!" + +"Hurrah-ah-ah!" reverberated in the forest, and the Cossack +companies, trailing their lances and advancing one after another as if +poured out of a sack, dashed gaily across the brook toward the camp. + +One desperate, frightened yell from the first French soldier who saw +the Cossacks, and all who were in the camp, undressed and only just +waking up, ran off in all directions, abandoning cannons, muskets, and +horses. + +Had the Cossacks pursued the French, without heeding what was behind +and around them, they would have captured Murat and everything +there. That was what the officers desired. But it was impossible to +make the Cossacks budge when once they had got booty and prisoners. +None of them listened to orders. Fifteen hundred prisoners and +thirty-eight guns were taken on the spot, besides standards and +(what seemed most important to the Cossacks) horses, saddles, +horsecloths, and the like. All this had to be dealt with, the +prisoners and guns secured, the booty divided--not without some +shouting and even a little themselves--and it was on this that the +Cossacks all busied themselves. + +The French, not being farther pursued, began to recover +themselves: they formed into detachments and began firing. +Orlov-Denisov, still waiting for the other columns to arrive, advanced +no further. + +Meantime, according to the dispositions which said that "the First +Column will march" and so on, the infantry of the belated columns, +commanded by Bennigsen and directed by Toll, had started in due +order and, as always happens, had got somewhere, but not to their +appointed places. As always happens the men, starting cheerfully, +began to halt; murmurs were heard, there was a sense of confusion, and +finally a backward movement. Adjutants and generals galloped about, +shouted, grew angry, quarreled, said they had come quite wrong and +were late, gave vent to a little abuse, and at last gave it all up and +went forward, simply to get somewhere. "We shall get somewhere or +other!" And they did indeed get somewhere, though not to their right +places; a few eventually even got to their right place, but too late +to be of any use and only in time to be fired at. Toll, who in this +battle played the part of Weyrother at Austerlitz, galloped +assiduously from place to place, finding everything upside down +everywhere. Thus he stumbled on Bagovut's corps in a wood when it +was already broad daylight, though the corps should long before have +joined Orlov-Denisov. Excited and vexed by the failure and supposing +that someone must be responsible for it, Toll galloped up to the +commander of the corps and began upbraiding him severely, saying +that he ought to be shot. General Bagovut, a fighting old soldier of +placid temperament, being also upset by all the delay, confusion, +and cross-purposes, fell into a rage to everybody's surprise and quite +contrary to his usual character and said disagreeable things to Toll. + +"I prefer not to take lessons from anyone, but I can die with my men +as well as anybody," he said, and advanced with a single division. + +Coming out onto a field under the enemy's fire, this brave general +went straight ahead, leading his men under fire, without considering +in his agitation whether going into action now, with a single +division, would be of any use or no. Danger, cannon balls, and bullets +were just what he needed in his angry mood. One of the first bullets +killed him, and other bullets killed many of his men. And his division +remained under fire for some time quite uselessly. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Meanwhile another column was to have attacked the French from the +front, but Kutuzov accompanied that column. He well knew that +nothing but confusion would come of this battle undertaken against his +will, and as far as was in his power held the troops back. He did +not advance. + +He rode silently on his small gray horse, indolently answering +suggestions that they should attack. + +"The word attack is always on your tongue, but you don't see that we +are unable to execute complicated maneuvers," said he to +Miloradovich who asked permission to advance. + +"We couldn't take Murat prisoner this morning or get to the place in +time, and nothing can be done now!" he replied to someone else. + +When Kutuzov was informed that at the French rear--where according +to the reports of the Cossacks there had previously been nobody--there +were now two battalions of Poles, he gave a sidelong glance at Ermolov +who was behind him and to whom he had not spoken since the previous +day. + +"You see! They are asking to attack and making plans of all kinds, +but as soon as one gets to business nothing is ready, and the enemy, +forewarned, takes measures accordingly." + +Ermolov screwed up his eyes and smiled faintly on hearing these +words. He understood that for him the storm had blown over, and that +Kutuzov would content himself with that hint. + +"He's having a little fun at my expense," said Ermolov softly, +nudging with his knee Raevski who was at his side. + +Soon after this, Ermolov moved up to Kutuzov and respectfully +remarked: + +"It is not too late yet, your Highness--the enemy has not gone away- +if you were to order an attack! If not, the Guards will not so much as +see a little smoke." + +Kutuzov did not reply, but when they reported to him that Murat's +troops were in retreat he ordered an advance, though at every +hundred paces he halted for three quarters of an hour. + +The whole battle consisted in what Orlov-Denisov's Cossacks had +done: the rest of the army merely lost some hundreds of men uselessly. + +In consequence of this battle Kutuzov received a diamond decoration, +and Bennigsen some diamonds and a hundred thousand rubles, others also +received pleasant recognitions corresponding to their various +grades, and following the battle fresh changes were made in the staff. + +"That's how everything is done with us, all topsy-turvy!" said the +Russian officers and generals after the Tarutino battle, letting it be +understood that some fool there is doing things all wrong but that +we ourselves should not have done so, just as people speak today. +But people who talk like that either do not know what they are talking +about or deliberately deceive themselves. No battle--Tarutino, +Borodino, or Austerlitz--takes place as those who planned it +anticipated. That is an essential condition. + +A countless number of free forces (for nowhere is man freer than +during a battle, where it is a question of life and death) influence +the course taken by the fight, and that course never can be known in +advance and never coincides with the direction of any one force. + +If many simultaneously and variously directed forces act on a +given body, the direction of its motion cannot coincide with any one +of those forces, but will always be a mean--what in mechanics is +represented by the diagonal of a parallelogram of forces. + +If in the descriptions given by historians, especially French +ones, we find their wars and battles carried out in accordance with +previously formed plans, the only conclusion to be drawn is that those +descriptions are false. + +The battle of Tarutino obviously did not attain the aim Toll had +in view--to lead the troops into action in the order prescribed by the +dispositions; nor that which Count Orlov-Denisov may have had in view- +to take Murat prisoner; nor the result of immediately destroying the +whole corps, which Bennigsen and others may have had in view; nor +the aim of the officer who wished to go into action to distinguish +himself; nor that of the Cossack who wanted more booty than he got, +and so on. But if the aim of the battle was what actually resulted and +what all the Russians of that day desired--to drive the French out +of Russia and destroy their army--it is quite clear that the battle of +Tarutino, just because of its incongruities, was exactly what was +wanted at that stage of the campaign. It would be difficult and even +impossible to imagine any result more opportune than the actual +outcome of this battle. With a minimum of effort and insignificant +losses, despite the greatest confusion, the most important results +of the whole campaign were attained: the transition from retreat to +advance, an exposure of the weakness of the French, and the +administration of that shock which Napoleon's army had only awaited to +begin its flight. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Napoleon enters Moscow after the brilliant victory de la Moskowa; +there can be no doubt about the victory for the battlefield remains in +the hands of the French. The Russians retreat and abandon their +ancient capital. Moscow, abounding in provisions, arms, munitions, and +incalculable wealth, is in Napoleon's hands. The Russian army, only +half the strength of the French, does not make a single attempt to +attack for a whole month. Napoleon's position is most brilliant. He +can either fall on the Russian army with double its strength and +destroy it; negotiate an advantageous peace, or in case of a refusal +make a menacing move on Petersburg, or even, in the case of a reverse, +return to Smolensk or Vilna; or remain in Moscow; in short, no special +genius would seem to be required to retain the brilliant position +the French held at that time. For that, only very simple and easy +steps were necessary: not to allow the troops to loot, to prepare +winter clothing--of which there was sufficient in Moscow for the whole +army--and methodically to collect the provisions, of which +(according to the French historians) there were enough in Moscow to +supply the whole army for six months. Yet Napoleon, that greatest of +all geniuses, who the historians declare had control of the army, took +none of these steps. + +He not merely did nothing of the kind, but on the contrary he used +his power to select the most foolish and ruinous of all the courses +open to him. Of all that Napoleon might have done: wintering in +Moscow, advancing on Petersburg or on Nizhni-Novgorod, or retiring +by a more northerly or more southerly route (say by the road Kutuzov +afterwards took), nothing more stupid or disastrous can be imagined +than what he actually did. He remained in Moscow till October, letting +the troops plunder the city; then, hesitating whether to leave a +garrison behind him, he quitted Moscow, approached Kutuzov without +joining battle, turned to the right and reached Malo-Yaroslavets, +again without attempting to break through and take the road Kutuzov +took, but retiring instead to Mozhaysk along the devastated Smolensk +road. Nothing more stupid than that could have been devised, or more +disastrous for the army, as the sequel showed. Had Napoleon's aim been +to destroy his army, the most skillful strategist could hardly have +devised any series of actions that would so completely have +accomplished that purpose, independently of anything the Russian +army might do. + +Napoleon, the man of genius, did this! But to say that he +destroyed his army because he wished to, or because he was very +stupid, would be as unjust as to say that he had brought his troops to +Moscow because he wished to and because he was very clever and a +genius. + +In both cases his personal activity, having no more force than the +personal activity of any soldier, merely coincided with the laws +that guided the event. + +The historians quite falsely represent Napoleon's faculties as +having weakened in Moscow, and do so only because the results did +not justify his actions. He employed all his ability and strength to +do the best he could for himself and his army, as he had done +previously and as he did subsequently in 1813. His activity at that +time was no less astounding than it was in Egypt, in Italy, in +Austria, and in Prussia. We do not know for certain in how far his +genius was genuine in Egypt--where forty centuries looked down upon +his grandeur--for his great exploits there are all told us by +Frenchmen. We cannot accurately estimate his genius in Austria or +Prussia, for we have to draw our information from French or German +sources, and the incomprehensible surrender of whole corps without +fighting and of fortresses without a siege must incline Germans to +recognize his genius as the only explanation of the war carried on +in Germany. But we, thank God, have no need to recognize his genius in +order to hide our shame. We have paid for the right to look at the +matter plainly and simply, and we will not abandon that right. + +His activity in Moscow was as amazing and as full of genius as +elsewhere. Order after order order and plan after plan were issued +by him from the time he entered Moscow till the time he left it. The +absence of citizens and of a deputation, and even the burning of +Moscow, did not disconcert him. He did not lose sight either of the +welfare of his army or of the doings of the enemy, or of the welfare +of the people of Russia, or of the direction of affairs in Paris, or +of diplomatic considerations concerning the terms of the anticipated +peace. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +With regard to military matters, Napoleon immediately on his entry +into Moscow gave General Sabastiani strict orders to observe the +movements of the Russian army, sent army corps out along the different +roads, and charged Murat to find Kutuzov. Then he gave careful +directions about the fortification of the Kremlin, and drew up a +brilliant plan for a future campaign over the whole map of Russia. + +With regard to diplomatic questions, Napoleon summoned Captain +Yakovlev, who had been robbed and was in rags and did not know how +to get out of Moscow, minutely explained to him his whole policy and +his magnanimity, and having written a letter to the Emperor +Alexander in which he considered it his duty to inform his Friend +and Brother that Rostopchin had managed affairs badly in Moscow, he +dispatched Yakovlev to Petersburg. + +Having similarly explained his views and his magnanimity to +Tutolmin, he dispatched that old man also to Petersburg to negotiate. + +With regard to legal matters, immediately after the fires he gave +orders to find and execute the incendiaries. And the scoundrel +Rostopchin was punished by an order to burn down his houses. + +With regard to administrative matters, Moscow was granted a +constitution. A municipality was established and the following +announcement issued: + + +INHABITANTS OF MOSCOW! + +Your misfortunes are cruel, but His Majesty the Emperor and King +desires to arrest their course. Terrible examples have taught you +how he punishes disobedience and crime. Strict measures have been +taken to put an end to disorder and to re-establish public security. A +paternal administration, chosen from among yourselves, will form +your municipality or city government. It will take care of you, of +your needs, and of your welfare. Its members will be distinguished +by a red ribbon worn across the shoulder, and the mayor of the city +will wear a white belt as well. But when not on duty they will only +wear a red ribbon round the left arm. + +The city police is established on its former footing, and better +order already prevails in consequence of its activity. The +government has appointed two commissaries general, or chiefs of +police, and twenty commissaries or captains of wards have been +appointed to the different wards of the city. You will recognize +them by the white ribbon they will wear on the left arm. Several +churches of different denominations are open, and divine service is +performed in them unhindered. Your fellow citizens are returning every +day to their homes. and orders have been given that they should find +in them the help and protection due to their misfortunes. These are +the measures the government has adopted to re-establish order and +relieve your condition. But to achieve this aim it is necessary that +you should add your efforts and should, if possible, forget the +misfortunes you have suffered, should entertain the hope of a less +cruel fate, should be certain that inevitable and ignominious death +awaits those who make any attempt on your persons or on what remains +of your property, and finally that you should not doubt that these +will be safeguarded, since such is the will of the greatest and most +just of monarchs. Soldiers and citizens, of whatever nation you may +be, re-establish public confidence, the source of the welfare of a +state, live like brothers, render mutual aid and protection one to +another, unite to defeat the intentions of the evil-minded, obey the +military and civil authorities, and your tears will soon cease to +flow! + + +With regard to supplies for the army, Napoleon decreed that all +the troops in turn should enter Moscow a la maraude* to obtain +provisions for themselves, so that the army might have its future +provided for. + + +*As looters. + + +With regard to religion, Napoleon ordered the priests to be +brought back and services to be again performed in the churches. + +With regard to commerce and to provisioning the army, the +following was placarded everywhere: + + +PROCLAMATION! + +You, peaceful inhabitants of Moscow, artisans and workmen whom +misfortune has driven from the city, and you scattered tillers of +the soil, still kept out in the fields by groundless fear, listen! +Tranquillity is returning to this capital and order is being +restored in it. Your fellow countrymen are emerging boldly from +their hiding places on finding that they are respected. Any violence +to them or to their property is promptly punished. His Majesty the +Emperor and King protects them, and considers no one among you his +enemy except those who disobey his orders. He desires to end your +misfortunes and restore you to your homes and families. Respond, +therefore, to his benevolent intentions and come to us without fear. +Inhabitants, return with confidence to your abodes! You will soon find +means of satisfying your needs. Craftsmen and industrious artisans, +return to your work, your houses, your shops, where the protection +of guards awaits you! You shall receive proper pay for your work. +And lastly you too, peasants, come from the forests where you are +hiding in terror, return to your huts without fear, in full +assurance that you will find protection! Markets are established in +the city where peasants can bring their surplus supplies and the +products of the soil. The government has taken the following steps +to ensure freedom of sale for them: (1) From today, peasants, +husbandmen, and those living in the neighborhood of Moscow may without +any danger bring their supplies of all kinds to two appointed markets, +of which one is on the Mokhovaya Street and the other at the Provision +Market. (2) Such supplies will be bought from them at such prices as +seller and buyer may agree on, and if a seller is unable to obtain a +fair price he will be free to take his goods back to his village and +no one may hinder him under any pretense. (3) Sunday and Wednesday +of each week are appointed as the chief market days and to that end +a sufficient number of troops will be stationed along the highroads on +Tuesdays and Saturdays at such distances from the town as to protect +the carts. (4) Similar measures will be taken that peasants with their +carts and horses may meet with no hindrance on their return journey. +(5) Steps will immediately be taken to re-establish ordinary trading. + +Inhabitants of the city and villages, and you, workingmen and +artisans, to whatever nation you belong, you are called on to carry +out the paternal intentions of His Majesty the Emperor and King and to +co-operate with him for the public welfare! Lay your respect and +confidence at his feet and do not delay to unite with us! + + +With the object of raising the spirits of the troops and of the +people, reviews were constantly held and rewards distributed. The +Emperor rode through the streets to comfort the inhabitants, and, +despite his preoccupation with state affairs, himself visited the +theaters that were established by his order. + +In regard to philanthropy, the greatest virtue of crowned heads, +Napoleon also did all in his power. He caused the words Maison de ma +Mere to be inscribed on the charitable institutions, thereby combining +tender filial affection with the majestic benevolence of a monarch. He +visited the Foundling Hospital and, allowing the orphans saved by +him to kiss his white hands, graciously conversed with Tutolmin. Then, +as Thiers eloquently recounts, he ordered his soldiers to be paid in +forged Russian money which he had prepared: "Raising the use of +these means by an act worthy of himself and of the French army, he let +relief be distributed to those who had been burned out. But as food +was too precious to be given to foreigners, who were for the most part +enemies, Napoleon preferred to supply them with money with which to +purchase food from outside, and had paper rubles distributed to them." + +With reference to army discipline, orders were continually being +issued to inflict severe punishment for the nonperformance of military +duties and to suppress robbery. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +But strange to say, all these measures, efforts, and plans--which +were not at all worse than others issued in similar circumstances--did +not affect the essence of the matter but, like the hands of a clock +detached from the mechanism, swung about in an arbitrary and aimless +way without engaging the cogwheels. + +With reference to the military side--the plan of campaign--that work +of genius of which Thiers remarks that, "His genius never devised +anything more profound, more skillful, or more admirable," and +enters into a polemic with M. Fain to prove that this work of genius +must be referred not to the fourth but to the fifteenth of October- +that plan never was or could be executed, for it was quite out of +touch with the facts of the case. The fortifying of the Kremlin, for +which la Mosquee (as Napoleon termed the church of Basil the +Beatified) was to have been razed to the ground, proved quite useless. +The mining of the Kremlin only helped toward fulfilling Napoleon's +wish that it should be blown up when he left Moscow--as a child +wants the floor on which he has hurt himself to be beaten. The pursuit +of the Russian army, about which Napoleon was so concerned, produced +an unheard-of result. The French generals lost touch with the +Russian army of sixty thousand men, and according to Thiers it was +only eventually found, like a lost pin, by the skill--and apparently +the genius--of Murat. + +With reference to diplomacy, all Napoleon's arguments as to his +magnanimity and justice, both to Tutolmin and to Yakovlev (whose chief +concern was to obtain a greatcoat and a conveyance), proved useless; +Alexander did not receive these envoys and did not reply to their +embassage. + +With regard to legal matters, after the execution of the supposed +incendiaries the rest of Moscow burned down. + +With regard to administrative matters, the establishment of a +municipality did not stop the robberies and was only of use to certain +people who formed part of that municipality and under pretext of +preserving order looted Moscow or saved their own property from +being looted. + +With regard to religion, as to which in Egypt matters had so +easily been settled by Napoleon's visit to a mosque, no results were +achieved. Two or three priests who were found in Moscow did try to +carry out Napoleon's wish, but one of them was slapped in the face +by a French soldier while conducting service, and a French official +reported of another that: "The priest whom I found and invited to +say Mass cleaned and locked up the church. That night the doors were +again broken open, the padlocks smashed, the books mutilated, and +other disorders perpetrated." + +With reference to commerce, the proclamation to industrious +workmen and to peasants evoked no response. There were no +industrious workmen, and the peasants caught the commissaries who +ventured too far out of town with the proclamation and killed them. + +As to the theaters for the entertainment of the people and the +troops, these did not meet with success either. The theaters set up in +the Kremlin and in Posnyakov's house were closed again at once because +the actors and actresses were robbed. + +Even philanthropy did not have the desired effect. The genuine as +well as the false paper money which flooded Moscow lost its value. The +French, collecting booty, cared only for gold. Not only was the +paper money valueless which Napoleon so graciously distributed to +the unfortunate, but even silver lost its value in relation to gold. + +But the most amazing example of the ineffectiveness of the orders +given by the authorities at that time was Napoleon's attempt to stop +the looting and re-establish discipline. + +This is what the army authorities were reporting: + +"Looting continues in the city despite the decrees against it. Order +is not yet restored and not a single merchant is carrying on trade +in a lawful manner. The sutlers alone venture to trade, and they +sell stolen goods." + +"The neighborhood of my ward continues to be pillaged by soldiers of +the 3rd Corps who, not satisfied with taking from the unfortunate +inhabitants hiding in the cellars the little they have left, even have +the ferocity to wound them with their sabers, as I have repeatedly +witnessed." + +"Nothing new, except that the soldiers are robbing and pillaging- +October 9." + +"Robbery and pillaging continue. There is a band of thieves in our +district who ought to be arrested by a strong force--October 11." + +"The Emperor is extremely displeased that despite the strict +orders to stop pillage, parties of marauding Guards are continually +seen returning to the Kremlin. Among the Old Guard disorder and +pillage were renewed more violently than ever yesterday evening, +last night, and today. The Emperor sees with regret that the picked +soldiers appointed to guard his person, who should set an example of +discipline, carry disobedience to such a point that they break into +the cellars and stores containing army supplies. Others have disgraced +themselves to the extent of disobeying sentinels and officers, and +have abused and beaten them." + +"The Grand Marshal of the palace," wrote the governor, "complains +bitterly that in spite of repeated orders, the soldiers continue to +commit nuisances in all the courtyards and even under the very windows +of the Emperor." + +That army, like a herd of cattle run wild and trampling underfoot +the provender which might have saved it from starvation, disintegrated +and perished with each additional day it remained in Moscow. But it +did not go away. + +It began to run away only when suddenly seized by a panic caused +by the capture of transport trains on the Smolensk road, and by the +battle of Tarutino. The news of that battle of Tarutino, +unexpectedly received by Napoleon at a review, evoked in him a +desire to punish the Russians (Thiers says), and he issued the order +for departure which the whole army was demanding. + +Fleeing from Moscow the soldiers took with them everything they +had stolen. Napoleon, too, carried away his own personal tresor, but +on seeing the baggage trains that impeded the army, he was (Thiers +says) horror-struck. And yet with his experience of war he did not +order all the superfluous vehicles to be burned, as he had done with +those of a certain marshal when approaching Moscow. He gazed at the +caleches and carriages in which soldiers were riding and remarked that +it was a very good thing, as those vehicles could be used to carry +provisions, the sick, and the wounded. + +The plight of the whole army resembled that of a wounded animal +which feels it is perishing and does not know what it is doing. To +study the skillful tactics and aims of Napoleon and his army from +the time it entered Moscow till it was destroyed is like studying +the dying leaps and shudders of a mortally wounded animal. Very +often a wounded animal, hearing a rustle, rushes straight at the +hunter's gun, runs forward and back again, and hastens its own end. +Napoleon, under pressure from his whole army, did the same thing. +The rustle of the battle of Tarutino frightened the beast, and it +rushed forward onto the hunter's gun, reached him, turned back, and +finally--like any wild beast--ran back along the most +disadvantageous and dangerous path, where the old scent was familiar. + +During the whole of that period Napoleon, who seems to us to have +been the leader of all these movements--as the figurehead of a ship +may seem to a savage to guide the vessel--acted like a child who, +holding a couple of strings inside a carriage, thinks he is driving +it. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Early in the morning of the sixth of October Pierre went out of +the shed, and on returning stopped by the door to play with a little +blue-gray dog, with a long body and short bandy legs, that jumped +about him. This little dog lived in their shed, sleeping beside +Karataev at night; it sometimes made excursions into the town but +always returned again. Probably it had never had an owner, and it +still belonged to nobody and had no name. The French called it Azor; +the soldier who told stories called it Femgalka; Karataev and others +called it Gray, or sometimes Flabby. Its lack of a master, a name, +or even of a breed or any definite color did not seem to trouble the +blue-gray dog in the least. Its furry tail stood up firm and round +as a plume, its bandy legs served it so well that it would often +gracefully lift a hind leg and run very easily and quickly on three +legs, as if disdaining to use all four. Everything pleased it. Now +it would roll on its back, yelping with delight, now bask in the sun +with a thoughtful air of importance, and now frolic about playing with +a chip of wood or a straw. + +Pierre's attire by now consisted of a dirty torn shirt (the only +remnant of his former clothing), a pair of soldier's trousers which by +Karataev's advice he tied with string round the ankles for warmth, and +a peasant coat and cap. Physically he had changed much during this +time. He no longer seemed stout, though he still had the appearance of +solidity and strength hereditary in his family. A beard and mustache +covered the lower part of his face, and a tangle of hair, infested +with lice, curled round his head like a cap. The look of his eyes +was resolute, calm, and animatedly alert, as never before. The +former slackness which had shown itself even in his eyes was now +replaced by an energetic readiness for action and resistance. His feet +were bare. + +Pierre first looked down the field across which vehicles and +horsemen were passing that morning, then into the distance across +the river, then at the dog who was pretending to be in earnest about +biting him, and then at his bare feet which he placed with pleasure in +various positions, moving his dirty thick big toes. Every time he +looked at his bare feet a smile of animated self-satisfaction +flitted across his face. The sight of them reminded him of all he +had experienced and learned during these weeks and this recollection +was pleasant to him. + +For some days the weather had been calm and clear with slight frosts +in the mornings--what is called an "old wives' summer." + +In the sunshine the air was warm, and that warmth was particularly +pleasant with the invigorating freshness of the morning frost still in +the air. + +On everything--far and near--lay the magic crystal glitter seen only +at that time autumn. The Sparrow Hills were visible in the distance, +with the village, the church, and the large white house. The bare +trees, the sand, the bricks and roofs of the houses, the green +church spire, and the corners of the white house in the distance, +all stood out in the transparent air in most delicate outline and with +unnatural clearness. Near by could be seen the familiar ruins of a +half-burned mansion occupied by the French, with lilac bushes still +showing dark green beside the fence. And even that ruined and befouled +house--which in dull weather was repulsively ugly--seemed quietly +beautiful now, in the clear, motionless brilliance. + +A French corporal, with coat unbuttoned in a homely way, a +skullcap on his head, and a short pipe in his mouth, came from +behind a corner of the shed and approached Pierre with a friendly +wink. + +"What sunshine, Monsieur Kiril!" (Their name for Pierre.) "Eh? +Just like spring!" + +And the corporal leaned against the door and offered Pierre his +pipe, though whenever he offered it Pierre always declined it. + +"To be on the march in such weather..." he began. + +Pierre inquired what was being said about leaving, and the +corporal told him that nearly all the troops were starting and there +ought to be an order about the prisoners that day. Sokolov, one of the +soldiers in the shed with Pierre, was dying, and Pierre told the +corporal that something should be done about him. The corporal replied +that Pierre need not worry about that as they had an ambulance and a +permanent hospital and arrangements would be made for the sick, and +that in general everything that could happen had been foreseen by +the authorities. + +"Besides, Monsieur Kiril, you have only to say a word to the +captain, you know. He is a man who never forgets anything. Speak to +the captain when he makes his round, he will do anything for you." + +(The captain of whom the corporal spoke often had long chats with +Pierre and showed him all sorts of favors.) + +"'You see, St. Thomas,' he said to me the other day. 'Monsieur Kiril +is a man of education, who speaks French. He is a Russian seigneur who +has had misfortunes, but he is a man. He knows what's what.... If he +wants anything and asks me, he won't get a refusal. When one has +studied, you see, one likes education and well-bred people.' It is for +your sake I mention it, Monsieur Kiril. The other day if it had not +been for you that affair would have ended ill." + +And after chatting a while longer, the corporal went away. (The +affair he had alluded to had happened a few days before--a fight +between the prisoners and the French soldiers, in which Pierre had +succeeded in pacifying his comrades.) Some of the prisoners who had +heard Pierre talking to the corporal immediately asked what the +Frenchman had said. While Pierre was repeating what he had been told +about the army leaving Moscow, a thin, sallow, tattered French soldier +came up to the door of the shed. Rapidly and timidly raising his +fingers to his forehead by way of greeting, he asked Pierre whether +the soldier Platoche to whom he had given a shirt to sew was in that +shed. + +A week before the French had had boot leather and linen issued to +them, which they had given out to the prisoners to make up into +boots and shirts for them. + +"Ready, ready, dear fellow!" said Karataev, coming out with a neatly +folded shirt. + +Karataev, on account of the warm weather and for convenience at +work, was wearing only trousers and a tattered shirt as black as soot. +His hair was bound round, workman fashion, with a wisp of lime-tree +bast, and his round face seemed rounder and pleasanter than ever. + +"A promise is own brother to performance! I said Friday and here +it is, ready," said Platon, smiling and unfolding the shirt he had +sewn. + +The Frenchman glanced around uneasily and then, as if overcoming his +hesitation, rapidly threw off his uniform and put on the shirt. He had +a long, greasy, flowered silk waistcoat next to his sallow, thin +bare body, but no shirt. He was evidently afraid the prisoners looking +on would laugh at him, and thrust his head into the shirt hurriedly. +None of the prisoners said a word. + +"See, it fits well!" Platon kept repeating, pulling the shirt +straight. + +The Frenchman, having pushed his head and hands through, without +raising his eyes, looked down at the shirt and examined the seams. + +"You see, dear man, this is not a sewing shop, and I had no proper +tools; and, as they say, one needs a tool even to kill a louse," +said Platon with one of his round smiles, obviously pleased with his +work. + +"It's good, quite good, thank you," said the Frenchman, in French, +"but there must be some linen left over. + +"It will fit better still when it sets to your body," said Karataev, +still admiring his handiwork. "You'll be nice and comfortable...." + +"Thanks, thanks, old fellow.... But the bits left over?" said the +Frenchman again and smiled. He took out an assignation ruble note +and gave it to Karataev. "But give me the pieces that are over." + +Pierre saw that Platon did not want to understand what the Frenchman +was saying, and he looked on without interfering. Karataev thanked the +Frenchman for the money and went on admiring his own work. The +Frenchman insisted on having the pieces returned that were left over +and asked Pierre to translate what he said. + +"What does he want the bits for?" said Karataev. "They'd make fine +leg bands for us. Well, never mind." + +And Karataev, with a suddenly changed and saddened expression, +took a small bundle of scraps from inside his shirt and gave it to the +Frenchman without looking at him. "Oh dear!" muttered Karataev and +went away. The Frenchman looked at the linen, considered for a moment, +then looked inquiringly at Pierre and, as if Pierre's look had told +him something, suddenly blushed and shouted in a squeaky voice: + +"Platoche! Eh, Platoche! Keep them yourself!" And handing back the +odd bits he turned and went out. + +"There, look at that," said Karataev, swaying his head. "People said +they were not Christians, but they too have souls. It's what the old +folk used to say: 'A sweating hand's an open hand, a dry hand's +close.' He's naked, but yet he's given it back." + +Karataev smiled thoughtfully and was silent awhile looking at the +pieces. + +"But they'll make grand leg bands, dear friend," he said, and went +back into the shed. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Four weeks had passed since Pierre had been taken prisoner and +though the French had offered to move him from the men's to the +officers' shed, he had stayed in the shed where he was first put. + +In burned and devastated Moscow Pierre experienced almost the +extreme limits of privation a man can endure; but thanks to his +physical strength and health, of which he had till then been +unconscious, and thanks especially to the fact that the privations +came so gradually that it was impossible to say when they began, he +endured his position not only lightly but joyfully. And just at this +time he obtained the tranquillity and ease of mind he had formerly +striven in vain to reach. He had long sought in different ways that +tranquillity of mind, that inner harmony which had so impressed him in +the soldiers at the battle of Borodino. He had sought it in +philanthropy, in Freemasonry, in the dissipations of town life, in +wine, in heroic feats of self-sacrifice, and in romantic love for +Natasha; he had sought it by reasoning--and all these quests and +experiments had failed him. And now without thinking about it he had +found that peace and inner harmony only through the horror of death, +through privation, and through what he recognized in Karataev. + +Those dreadful moments he had lived through at the executions had as +it were forever washed away from his imagination and memory the +agitating thoughts and feelings that had formerly seemed so important. +It did not now occur to him to think of Russia, or the war, or +politics, or Napoleon. It was plain to him that all these things +were no business of his, and that he was not called on to judge +concerning them and therefore could not do so. "Russia and summer +weather are not bound together," he thought, repeating words of +Karataev's which he found strangely consoling. His intention of +killing Napoleon and his calculations of the cabalistic number of +the beast of the Apocalypse now seemed to him meaningless and even +ridiculous. His anger with his wife and anxiety that his name should +not be smirched now seemed not merely trivial but even amusing. What +concern was it of his that somewhere or other that woman was leading +the life she preferred? What did it matter to anybody, and +especially to him, whether or not they found out that their prisoner's +name was Count Bezukhov? + +He now often remembered his conversation with Prince Andrew and +quite agreed with him, though he understood Prince Andrew's thoughts +somewhat differently. Prince Andrew had thought and said that +happiness could only be negative, but had said it with a shade of +bitterness and irony as though he was really saying that all desire +for positive happiness is implanted in us merely to torment us and +never be satisfied. But Pierre believed it without any mental +reservation. The absence of suffering, the satisfaction of one's needs +and consequent freedom in the choice of one's occupation, that is, +of one's way of life, now seemed to Pierre to be indubitably man's +highest happiness. Here and now for the first time he fully +appreciated the enjoyment of eating when he wanted to eat, drinking +when he wanted to drink, sleeping when he wanted to sleep, of warmth +when he was cold, of talking to a fellow man when he wished to talk +and to hear a human voice. The satisfaction of one's needs--good food, +cleanliness, and freedom--now that he was deprived of all this, seemed +to Pierre to constitute perfect happiness; and the choice of +occupation, that is, of his way of life--now that that was so +restricted--seemed to him such an easy matter that he forgot that a +superfluity of the comforts of life destroys all joy in satisfying +one's needs, while great freedom in the choice of occupation--such +freedom as his wealth, his education, and his social position had +given him in his own life--is just what makes the choice of occupation +insolubly difficult and destroys the desire and possibility of +having an occupation. + +All Pierre's daydreams now turned on the time when he would be free. +Yet subsequently, and for the rest of his life, he thought and spoke +with enthusiasm of that month of captivity, of those irrecoverable, +strong, joyful sensations, and chiefly of the complete peace of mind +and inner freedom which he experienced only during those weeks. + +When on the first day he got up early, went out of the shed at dawn, +and saw the cupolas and crosses of the New Convent of the Virgin still +dark at first, the hoarfrost on the dusty grass, the Sparrow Hills, +and the wooded banks above the winding river vanishing in the purple +distance, when he felt the contact of the fresh air and heard the +noise of the crows flying from Moscow across the field, and when +afterwards light gleamed from the east and the sun's rim appeared +solemnly from behind a cloud, and the cupolas and crosses, the +hoarfrost, the distance and the river, all began to sparkle in the +glad light--Pierre felt a new joy and strength in life such as he +had never before known. And this not only stayed with him during the +whole of his imprisonment, but even grew in strength as the +hardships of his position increased. + +That feeling of alertness and of readiness for anything was still +further strengthened in him by the high opinion his fellow prisoners +formed of him soon after his arrival at the shed. With his knowledge +of languages, the respect shown him by the French, his simplicity, his +readiness to give anything asked of him (he received the allowance +of three rubles a week made to officers); with his strength, which +he showed to the soldiers by pressing nails into the walls of the hut; +his gentleness to his companions, and his capacity for sitting still +and thinking without doing anything (which seemed to them +incomprehensible), he appeared to them a rather mysterious and +superior being. The very qualities that had been a hindrance, if not +actually harmful, to him in the world he had lived in--his strength, +his disdain for the comforts of life, his absent-mindedness and +simplicity--here among these people gave him almost the status of a +hero. And Pierre felt that their opinion placed responsibilities +upon him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +The French evacuation began on the night between the sixth and +seventh of October: kitchens and sheds were dismantled, carts +loaded, and troops and baggage trains started. + +At seven in the morning a French convoy in marching trim, wearing +shakos and carrying muskets, knapsacks, and enormous sacks, stood in +front of the sheds, and animated French talk mingled with curses +sounded all along the lines. + +In the shed everyone was ready, dressed, belted, shod, and only +awaited the order to start. The sick soldier, Sokolov, pale and thin +with dark shadows round his eyes, alone sat in his place barefoot +and not dressed. His eyes, prominent from the emaciation of his +face, gazed inquiringly at his comrades who were paying no attention +to him, and he moaned regularly and quietly. It was evidently not so +much his sufferings that caused him to moan (he had dysentery) as +his fear and grief at being left alone. + +Pierre, girt with a rope round his waist and wearing shoes +Karataev had made for him from some leather a French soldier had +torn off a tea chest and brought to have his boots mended with, went +up to the sick man and squatted down beside him. + +"You know, Sokolov, they are not all going away! They have a +hospital here. You may be better off than we others," said Pierre. + +"O Lord! Oh, it will be the death of me! O Lord!" moaned the man +in a louder voice. + +"I'll go and ask them again directly," said Pierre, rising and going +to the door of the shed. + +Just as Pierre reached the door, the corporal who had offered him +a pipe the day before came up to it with two soldiers. The corporal +and soldiers were in marching kit with knapsacks and shakos that had +metal straps, and these changed their familiar faces. + +The corporal came, according to orders, to shut the door. The +prisoners had to be counted before being let out. + +"Corporal, what will they do with the sick man?..." Pierre began. + +But even as he spoke he began to doubt whether this was the corporal +he knew or a stranger, so unlike himself did the corporal seem at that +moment. Moreover, just as Pierre was speaking a sharp rattle of +drums was suddenly heard from both sides. The corporal frowned at +Pierre's words and, uttering some meaningless oaths, slammed the door. +The shed became semidark, and the sharp rattle of the drums on two +sides drowned the sick man's groans. + +"There it is!... It again!..." said Pierre to himself, and an +involuntary shudder ran down his spine. In the corporal's changed +face, in the sound of his voice, in the stirring and deafening noise +of the drums, he recognized that mysterious, callous force which +compelled people against their will to kill their fellow men--that +force the effect of which he had witnessed during the executions. To +fear or to try to escape that force, to address entreaties or +exhortations to those who served as its tools, was useless. Pierre +knew this now. One had to wait and endure. He did not again go to +the sick man, nor turn to look at him, but stood frowning by the +door of the hut. + +When that door was opened and the prisoners, crowding against one +another like a flock of sheep, squeezed into the exit, Pierre pushed +his way forward and approached that very captain who as the corporal +had assured him was ready to do anything for him. The captain was also +in marching kit, and on his cold face appeared that same it which +Pierre had recognized in the corporal's words and in the roll of the +drums. + +"Pass on, pass on!" the captain reiterated, frowning sternly, and +looking at the prisoners who thronged past him. + +Pierre went up to him, though he knew his attempt would be vain. + +"What now?" the officer asked with a cold look as if not recognizing +Pierre. + +Pierre told him about the sick man. + +"He'll manage to walk, devil take him!" said the captain. "Pass +on, pass on!" he continued without looking at Pierre. + +"But he is dying," Pierre again began. + +"Be so good..." shouted the captain, frowning angrily. + +"Dram-da-da-dam, dam-dam..." rattled the drums, and Pierre +understood that this mysterious force completely controlled these +men and that it was now useless to say any more. + +The officer prisoners were separated from the soldiers and told to +march in front. There were about thirty officers, with Pierre among +them, and about three hundred men. + +The officers, who had come from the other sheds, were all +strangers to Pierre and much better dressed than he. They looked at +him and at his shoes mistrustfully, as at an alien. Not far from him +walked a fat major with a sallow, bloated, angry face, who was wearing +a Kazan dressing grown tied round with a towel, and who evidently +enjoyed the respect of his fellow prisoners. He kept one hand, in +which he clasped his tobacco pouch, inside the bosom of his dressing +gown and held the stem of his pipe firmly with the other. Panting +and puffing, the major grumbled and growled at everybody because he +thought he was being pushed and that they were all hurrying when +they had nowhere to hurry to and were all surprised at something +when there was nothing to be surprised at. Another, a thin little +officer, was speaking to everyone, conjecturing where they were now +being taken and how far they would get that day. An official in felt +boots and wearing a commissariat uniform ran round from side to side +and gazed at the ruins of Moscow, loudly announcing his observations +as to what had been burned down and what this or that part of the city +was that they could see. A third officer, who by his accent was a +Pole, disputed with the commissariat officer, arguing that he was +mistaken in his identification of the different wards of Moscow. + +"What are you disputing about?" said the major angrily. "What does +it matter whether it is St. Nicholas or St. Blasius? You see it's +burned down, and there's an end of it.... What are you pushing for? +Isn't the road wide enough?" said he, turning to a man behind him +who was not pushing him at all. + +"Oh, oh, oh! What have they done?" the prisoners on one side and +another were heard saying as they gazed on the charred ruins. "All +beyond the river, and Zubova, and in the Kremlin.... Just look! +There's not half of it left. Yes, I told you--the whole quarter beyond +the river, and so it is." + +"Well, you know it's burned, so what's the use of talking?" said the +major. + +As they passed near a church in the Khamovniki (one of the few +unburned quarters of Moscow) the whole mass of prisoners suddenly +started to one side and exclamations of horror and disgust were heard. + +"Ah, the villains! What heathens! Yes; dead, dead, so he is... And +smeared with something!" + +Pierre too drew near the church where the thing was that evoked +these exclamations, and dimly made out something leaning against the +palings surrounding the church. From the words of his comrades who saw +better than he did, he found that this was the body of a man, set +upright against the palings with its face smeared with soot. + +"Go on! What the devil... Go on! Thirty thousand devils!..." the +convoy guards began cursing and the French soldiers, with fresh +virulence, drove away with their swords the crowd of prisoners who +were gazing at the dead man. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Through the cross streets of the Khamovniki quarter the prisoners +marched, followed only by their escort and the vehicles and wagons +belonging to that escort, but when they reached the supply stores they +came among a huge and closely packed train of artillery mingled with +private vehicles. + +At the bridge they all halted, waiting for those in front to get +across. From the bridge they had a view of endless lines of moving +baggage trains before and behind them. To the right, where the +Kaluga road turns near Neskuchny, endless rows of troops and carts +stretched away into the distance. These were troops of Beauharnais' +corps which had started before any of the others. Behind, along the +riverside and across the Stone Bridge, were Ney's troops and +transport. + +Davout's troops, in whose charge were the prisoners, were crossing +the Crimean bridge and some were already debouching into the Kaluga +road. But the baggage trains stretched out so that the last of +Beauharnais' train had not yet got out of Moscow and reached the +Kaluga road when the vanguard of Ney's army was already emerging +from the Great Ordynka Street. + +When they had crossed the Crimean bridge the prisoners moved a few +steps forward, halted, and again moved on, and from all sides vehicles +and men crowded closer and closer together. They advanced the few +hundred paces that separated the bridge from the Kaluga road, taking +more than an hour to do so, and came out upon the square where the +streets of the Transmoskva ward and the Kaluga road converge, and +the prisoners jammed close together had to stand for some hours at +that crossway. From all sides, like the roar of the sea, were heard +the rattle of wheels, the tramp of feet, and incessant shouts of anger +and abuse. Pierre stood pressed against the wall of a charred house, +listening to that noise which mingled in his imagination with the roll +of the drums. + +To get a better view, several officer prisoners climbed onto the +wall of the half-burned house against which Pierre was leaning. + +"What crowds! Just look at the crowds!... They've loaded goods +even on the cannon! Look there, those are furs!" they exclaimed. "Just +see what the blackguards have looted.... There! See what that one +has behind in the cart.... Why, those are settings taken from some +icons, by heaven!... Oh, the rascals!... See how that fellow has +loaded himself up, he can hardly walk! Good lord, they've even grabbed +those chaises!... See that fellow there sitting on the trunks.... +Heavens! They're fighting." + +"That's right, hit him on the snout--on his snout! Like this, we +shan't get away before evening. Look, look there.... Why, that must be +Napoleon's own. See what horses! And the monograms with a crown! +It's like a portable house.... That fellow's dropped his sack and +doesn't see it. Fighting again... A woman with a baby, and not +bad-looking either! Yes, I dare say, that's the way they'll let you +pass... Just look, there's no end to it. Russian wenches, by heaven, +so they are! In carriages--see how comfortably they've settled +themselves!" + +Again, as at the church in Khamovniki, a wave of general curiosity +bore all the prisoners forward onto the road, and Pierre, thanks to +his stature, saw over the heads of the others what so attracted +their curiosity. In three carriages involved among the munition carts, +closely squeezed together, sat women with rouged faces, dressed in +glaring colors, who were shouting something in shrill voices. + +From the moment Pierre had recognized the appearance of the +mysterious force nothing had seemed to him strange or dreadful: +neither the corpse smeared with soot for fun nor these women +hurrying away nor the burned ruins of Moscow. All that he now +witnessed scarcely made an impression on him--as if his soul, making +ready for a hard struggle, refused to receive impressions that might +weaken it. + +The women's vehicles drove by. Behind them came more carts, +soldiers, wagons, soldiers, gun carriages, carriages, soldiers, +ammunition carts, more soldiers, and now and then women. + +Pierre did not see the people as individuals but saw their movement. + +All these people and horses seemed driven forward by some +invisible power. During the hour Pierre watched them they all came +flowing from the different streets with one and the same desire to get +on quickly; they all jostled one another, began to grow angry and to +fight, white teeth gleamed, brows frowned, ever the same words of +abuse flew from side to side, and all the faces bore the same +swaggeringly resolute and coldly cruel expression that had struck +Pierre that morning on the corporal's face when the drums were +beating. + +It was not till nearly evening that the officer commanding the +escort collected his men and with shouts and quarrels forced his way +in among the baggage trains, and the prisoners, hemmed in on all +sides, emerged onto the Kaluga road. + +They marched very quickly, without resting, and halted only when the +sun began to set. The baggage carts drew up close together and the men +began to prepare for their night's rest. They all appeared angry and +dissatisfied. For a long time, oaths, angry shouts, and fighting could +be heard from all sides. A carriage that followed the escort ran +into one of the carts and knocked a hole in it with its pole. +Several soldiers ran toward the cart from different sides: some beat +the carriage horses on their heads, turning them aside, others +fought among themselves, and Pierre saw that one German was badly +wounded on the head by a sword. + +It seemed that all these men, now that they had stopped amid +fields in the chill dusk of the autumn evening, experienced one and +the same feeling of unpleasant awakening from the hurry and +eagerness to push on that had seized them at the start. Once at a +standstill they all seemed to understand that they did not yet know +where they were going, and that much that was painful and difficult +awaited them on this journey. + +During this halt the escort treated the prisoners even worse than +they had done at the start. It was here that the prisoners for the +first time received horseflesh for their meat ration. + +From the officer down to the lowest soldier they showed what +seemed like personal spite against each of the prisoners, in +unexpected contrast to their former friendly relations. + +This spite increased still more when, on calling over the roll of +prisoners, it was found that in the bustle of leaving Moscow one +Russian soldier, who had pretended to suffer from colic, had +escaped. Pierre saw a Frenchman beat a Russian soldier cruelly for +straying too far from the road, and heard his friend the captain +reprimand and threaten to court-martial a noncommissioned officer on +account of the escape of the Russian. To the noncommissioned officer's +excuse that the prisoner was ill and could not walk, the officer +replied that the order was to shoot those who lagged behind. Pierre +felt that that fatal force which had crushed him during the +executions, but which he had not felt during his imprisonment, now +again controlled his existence. It was terrible, but he felt that in +proportion to the efforts of that fatal force to crush him, there grew +and strengthened in his soul a power of life independent of it. + +He ate his supper of buckwheat soup with horseflesh and chatted with +his comrades. + +Neither Pierre nor any of the others spoke of what they had seen +in Moscow, or of the roughness of their treatment by the French, or of +the order to shoot them which had been announced to them. As if in +reaction against the worsening of their position they were all +particularly animated and gay. They spoke of personal reminiscences, +of amusing scenes they had witnessed during the campaign, and +avoided all talk of their present situation. + +The sun had set long since. Bright stars shone out here and there in +the sky. A red glow as of a conflagration spread above the horizon +from the rising full moon, and that vast red ball swayed strangely +in the gray haze. It grew light. The evening was ending, but the night +had not yet come. Pierre got up and left his new companions, +crossing between the campfires to the other side of the road where +he had been told the common soldier prisoners were stationed. He +wanted to talk to them. On the road he was stopped by a French +sentinel who ordered him back. + +Pierre turned back, not to his companions by the campfire, but to an +unharnessed cart where there was nobody. Tucking his legs under him +and dropping his head he sat down on the cold ground by the wheel of +the cart and remained motionless a long while sunk in thought. +Suddenly he burst out into a fit of his broad, good-natured +laughter, so loud that men from various sides turned with surprise +to see what this strange and evidently solitary laughter could mean. + +"Ha-ha-ha!" laughed Pierre. And he said aloud to himself: "The +soldier did not let me pass. They took me and shut me up. They hold me +captive. What, me? Me? My immortal soul? Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha!..." and +he laughed till tears started to his eyes. + +A man got up and came to see what this queer big fellow was laughing +at all by himself. Pierre stopped laughing, got up, went farther +away from the inquisitive man, and looked around him. + +The huge, endless bivouac that had previously resounded with the +crackling of campfires and the voices of many men had grown quiet, the +red campfires were growing paler and dying down. High up in the +light sky hung the full moon. Forests and fields beyond the camp, +unseen before, were now visible in the distance. And farther still, +beyond those forests and fields, the bright, oscillating, limitless +distance lured one to itself. Pierre glanced up at the sky and the +twinkling stars in its faraway depths. "And all that is me, all that +is within me, and it is all I!" thought Pierre. "And they caught all +that and put it into a shed boarded up with planks!" He smiled, and +went and lay down to sleep beside his companions. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +In the early days of October another envoy came to Kutuzov with a +letter from Napoleon proposing peace and falsely dated from Moscow, +though Napoleon was already not far from Kutuzov on the old Kaluga +road. Kutuzov replied to this letter as he had done to the one +formerly brought by Lauriston, saying that there could be no +question of peace. + +Soon after that a report was received from Dorokhov's guerrilla +detachment operating to the left of Tarutino that troops of +Broussier's division had been seen at Forminsk and that being +separated from the rest of the French army they might easily be +destroyed. The soldiers and officers again demanded action. Generals +on the staff, excited by the memory of the easy victory at Tarutino, +urged Kutuzov to carry out Dorokhov's suggestion. Kutuzov did not +consider any offensive necessary. The result was a compromise which +was inevitable: a small detachment was sent to Forminsk to attack +Broussier. + +By a strange coincidence, this task, which turned out to be a most +difficult and important one, was entrusted to Dokhturov--that same +modest little Dokhturov whom no one had described to us as drawing +up plans of battles, dashing about in front of regiments, showering +crosses on batteries, and so on, and who was thought to be and was +spoken of as undecided and undiscerning--but whom we find commanding +wherever the position was most difficult all through the +Russo-French wars from Austerlitz to the year 1813. At Austerlitz he +remained last at the Augezd dam, rallying the regiments, saving what +was possible when all were flying and perishing and not a single +general was left in the rear guard. Ill with fever he went to Smolensk +with twenty thousand men to defend the town against Napoleon's whole +army. In Smolensk, at the Malakhov Gate, he had hardly dozed off in +a paroxysm of fever before he was awakened by the bombardment of the +town--and Smolensk held out all day long. At the battle of Borodino, +when Bagration was killed and nine tenths of the men of our left flank +had fallen and the full force of the French artillery fire was +directed against it, the man sent there was this same irresolute and +undiscerning Dokhturov--Kutuzov hastening to rectify a mistake he +had made by sending someone else there first. And the quiet little +Dokhturov rode thither, and Borodino became the greatest glory of +the Russian army. Many heroes have been described to us in verse and +prose, but of Dokhturov scarcely a word has been said. + +It was Dokhturov again whom they sent to Forminsk and from there +to Malo-Yaroslavets, the place where the last battle with the French +was fought and where the obvious disintegration of the French army +began; and we are told of many geniuses and heroes of that period of +the campaign, but of Dokhturov nothing or very little is said and that +dubiously. And this silence about Dokhturov is the clearest +testimony to his merit. + +It is natural for a man who does not understand the workings of a +machine to imagine that a shaving that has fallen into it by chance +and is interfering with its action and tossing about in it is its most +important part. The man who does not understand the construction of +the machine cannot conceive that the small connecting cogwheel which +revolves quietly is one of the most essential parts of the machine, +and not the shaving which merely harms and hinders the working. + +On the tenth of October when Dokhturov had gone halfway to +Forminsk and stopped at the village of Aristovo, preparing +faithfully to execute the orders he had received, the whole French +army having, in its convulsive movement, reached Murat's position +apparently in order to give battle--suddenly without any reason turned +off to the left onto the new Kaluga road and began to enter +Forminsk, where only Broussier had been till then. At that time +Dokhturov had under his command, besides Dorokhov's detachment, the +two small guerrilla detachments of Figner and Seslavin. + +On the evening of October 11 Seslavin came to the Aristovo +headquarters with a French guardsman he had captured. The prisoner +said that the troops that had entered Forminsk that day were the +vanguard of the whole army, that Napoleon was there and the whole army +had left Moscow four days previously. That same evening a house serf +who had come from Borovsk said he had seen an immense army entering +the town. Some Cossacks of Dokhturov's detachment reported having +sighted the French Guards marching along the road to Borovsk. From all +these reports it was evident that where they had expected to meet a +single division there was now the whole French army marching from +Moscow in an unexpected direction--along the Kaluga road. Dokhturov +was unwilling to undertake any action, as it was not clear to him +now what he ought to do. He had been ordered to attack Forminsk. But +only Broussier had been there at that time and now the whole French +army was there. Ermolov wished to act on his own judgment, but +Dokhturov insisted that he must have Kutuzov's instructions. So it was +decided to send a dispatch to the staff. + +For this purpose a capable officer, Bolkhovitinov, was chosen, who +was to explain the whole affair by word of mouth, besides delivering a +written report. Toward midnight Bolkhovitinov, having received the +dispatch and verbal instructions, galloped off to the General Staff +accompanied by a Cossack with spare horses. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +It was a warm, dark, autumn night. It had been raining for four +days. Having changed horses twice and galloped twenty miles in an hour +and a half over a sticky, muddy road, Bolkhovitinov reached Litashevka +after one o'clock at night. Dismounting at a cottage on whose wattle +fence hung a signboard, GENERAL STAFF, and throwing down his reins, he +entered a dark passage. + +"The general on duty, quick! It's very important!" said he to +someone who had risen and was sniffing in the dark passage. + +"He has been very unwell since the evening and this is the third +night he has not slept," said the orderly pleadingly in a whisper. +"You should wake the captain first." + +"But this is very important, from General Dokhturov," said +Bolkhovitinov, entering the open door which he had found by feeling in +the dark. + +The orderly had gone in before him and began waking somebody. + +"Your honor, your honor! A courier." + +"What? What's that? From whom?" came a sleepy voice. + +"From Dokhturov and from Alexey Petrovich. Napoleon is at Forminsk," +said Bolkhovitinov, unable to see in the dark who was speaking but +guessing by the voice that it was not Konovnitsyn. + +The man who had wakened yawned and stretched himself. + +"I don't like waking him," he said, fumbling for something. "He is +very ill. Perhaps this is only a rumor." + +"Here is the dispatch," said Bolkhovitinov. "My orders are to give +it at once to the general on duty." + +"Wait a moment, I'll light a candle. You damned rascal, where do you +always hide it?" said the voice of the man who was stretching himself, +to the orderly. (This was Shcherbinin, Konovnitsyn's adjutant.) +"I've found it, I've found it!" he added. + +The orderly was striking a light and Shcherbinin was fumbling for +something on the candlestick. + +"Oh, the nasty beasts!" said he with disgust. + +By the light of the sparks Bolkhovitinov saw Shcherbinin's +youthful face as he held the candle, and the face of another man who +was still asleep. This was Konovnitsyn. + +When the flame of the sulphur splinters kindled by the tinder burned +up, first blue and then red, Shcherbinin lit the tallow candle, from +the candlestick of which the cockroaches that had been gnawing it were +running away, and looked at the messenger. Bolkhovitinov was +bespattered all over with mud and had smeared his face by wiping it +with his sleeve. + +"Who gave the report?" inquired Shcherbinin, taking the envelope. + +"The news is reliable," said Bolkhovitinov. "Prisoners, Cossacks, +and the scouts all say the same thing." + +"There's nothing to be done, we'll have to wake him," said +Shcherbinin, rising and going up to the man in the nightcap who lay +covered by a greatcoat. "Peter Petrovich!" said he. (Konovnitsyn did +not stir.) "To the General Staff!" he said with a smile, knowing +that those words would be sure to arouse him. + +And in fact the head in the nightcap was lifted at once. On +Konovnitsyn's handsome, resolute face with cheeks flushed by fever, +there still remained for an instant a faraway dreamy expression remote +from present affairs, but then he suddenly started and his face +assumed its habitual calm and firm appearance. + +"Well, what is it? From whom?" he asked immediately but without +hurry, blinking at the light. + +While listening to the officer's report Konovnitsyn broke the seal +and read the dispatch. Hardly had he done so before he lowered his +legs in their woolen stockings to the earthen floor and began +putting on his boots. Then he took off his nightcap, combed his hair +over his temples, and donned his cap. + +"Did you get here quickly? Let us go to his Highness." + +Konovnitsyn had understood at once that the news brought was of +great importance and that no time must be lost. He did not consider or +ask himself whether the news was good or bad. That did not interest +him. He regarded the whole business of the war not with his +intelligence or his reason but by something else. There was within him +a deep unexpressed conviction that all would be well, but that one +must not trust to this and still less speak about it, but must only +attend to one's own work. And he did his work, giving his whole +strength to the task. + +Peter Petrovich Konovnitsyn, like Dokhturov, seems to have been +included merely for propriety's sake in the list of the so-called +heroes of 1812--the Barclays, Raevskis, Ermolovs, Platovs, and +Miloradoviches. Like Dokhturov he had the reputation of being a man of +very limited capacity and information, and like Dokhturov he never +made plans of battle but was always found where the situation was most +difficult. Since his appointment as general on duty he had always +slept with his door open, giving orders that every messenger should be +allowed to wake him up. In battle he was always under fire, so that +Kutuzov reproved him for it and feared to send him to the front, and +like Dokhturov he was one of those unnoticed cogwheels that, without +clatter or noise, constitute the most essential part of the machine. + +Coming out of the hut into the damp, dark night Konovnitsyn frowned- +partly from an increased pain in his head and partly at the unpleasant +thought that occurred to him, of how all that nest of influential +men on the staff would be stirred up by this news, especially +Bennigsen, who ever since Tarutino had been at daggers drawn with +Kutuzov; and how they would make suggestions, quarrel, issue orders, +and rescind them. And this premonition was disagreeable to him +though he knew it could not be helped. + +And in fact Toll, to whom he went to communicate the news, +immediately began to expound his plans to a general sharing his +quarters, until Konovnitsyn, who listened in weary silence, reminded +him that they must go to see his Highness. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Kutuzov like all old people did not sleep much at night. He often +fell asleep unexpectedly in the daytime, but at night, lying on his +bed without undressing, he generally remained awake thinking. + +So he lay now on his bed, supporting his large, heavy, scarred +head on his plump hand, with his one eye open, meditating and +peering into the darkness. + +Since Bennigsen, who corresponded with the Emperor and had more +influence than anyone else on the staff, had begun to avoid him, +Kutuzov was more at ease as to the possibility of himself and his +troops being obliged to take part in useless aggressive movements. The +lesson of the Tarutino battle and of the day before it, which +Kutuzov remembered with pain, must, he thought, have some effect on +others too. + +"They must understand that we can only lose by taking the offensive. +Patience and time are my warriors, my champions," thought Kutuzov. +He knew that an apple should not be plucked while it is green. It will +fall of itself when ripe, but if picked unripe the apple is spoiled, +the tree is harmed, and your teeth are set on edge. Like an +experienced sportsman he knew that the beast was wounded, and +wounded as only the whole strength of Russia could have wounded it, +but whether it was mortally wounded or not was still an undecided +question. Now by the fact of Lauriston and Barthelemi having been +sent, and by the reports of the guerrillas, Kutuzov was almost sure +that the wound was mortal. But he needed further proofs and it was +necessary to wait. + +"They want to run to see how they have wounded it. Wait and we shall +see! Continual maneuvers, continual advances!" thought he. "What +for? Only to distinguish themselves! As if fighting were fun. They are +like children from whom one can't get any sensible account of what has +happened because they all want to show how well they can fight. But +that's not what is needed now. + +"And what ingenious maneuvers they all propose to me! It seems to +them that when they have thought of two or three contingencies" (he +remembered the general plan sent him from Petersburg) "they have +foreseen everything. But the contingencies are endless." + +The undecided question as to whether the wound inflicted at Borodino +was mortal or not had hung over Kutuzov's head for a whole month. On +the one hand the French had occupied Moscow. On the other Kutuzov felt +assured with all his being that the terrible blow into which he and +all the Russians had put their whole strength must have been mortal. +But in any case proofs were needed; he had waited a whole month for +them and grew more impatient the longer he waited. Lying on his bed +during those sleepless nights he did just what he reproached those +younger generals for doing. He imagined all sorts of possible +contingencies, just like the younger men, but with this difference, +that he saw thousands of contingencies instead of two or three and +based nothing on them. The longer he thought the more contingencies +presented themselves. He imagined all sorts of movements of the +Napoleonic army as a whole or in sections--against Petersburg, or +against him, or to outflank him. He thought too of the possibility +(which he feared most of all) that Napoleon might fight him with his +own weapon and remain in Moscow awaiting him. Kutuzov even imagined +that Napoleon's army might turn back through Medyn and Yukhnov, but +the one thing he could not foresee was what happened--the insane, +convulsive stampede of Napoleon's army during its first eleven days +after leaving Moscow: a stampede which made possible what Kutuzov +had not yet even dared to think of--the complete extermination of +the French. Dorokhov's report about Broussier's division, the +guerrillas' reports of distress in Napoleon's army, rumors of +preparations for leaving Moscow, all confirmed the supposition that +the French army was beaten and preparing for flight. But these were +only suppositions, which seemed important to the younger men but not +to Kutuzov. With his sixty years' experience he knew what value to +attach to rumors, knew how apt people who desire anything are to group +all news so that it appears to confirm what they desire, and he knew +how readily in such cases they omit all that makes for the contrary. +And the more he desired it the less he allowed himself to believe +it. This question absorbed all his mental powers. All else was to +him only life's customary routine. To such customary routine +belonged his conversations with the staff, the letters he wrote from +Tarutino to Madame de Stael, the reading of novels, the distribution +of awards, his correspondence with Petersburg, and so on. But the +destruction of the French, which he alone foresaw, was his heart's one +desire. + +On the night of the eleventh of October he lay leaning on his arm +and thinking of that. + +There was a stir in the next room and he heard the steps of Toll, +Konovnitsyn, and Bolkhovitinov. + +"Eh, who's there? Come in, come in! What news?" the field marshal +called out to them. + +While a footman was lighting a candle, Toll communicated the +substance of the news. + +"Who brought it?" asked Kutuzov with a look which, when the candle +was lit, struck Toll by its cold severity. + +"There can be no doubt about it, your Highness." + +"Call him in, call him here." + +Kutuzov sat up with one leg hanging down from the bed and his big +paunch resting against the other which was doubled under him. He +screwed up his seeing eye to scrutinize the messenger more +carefully, as if wishing to read in his face what preoccupied his +own mind. + +"Tell me, tell me, friend," said he to Bolkhovitinov in his low, +aged voice, as he pulled together the shirt which gaped open on his +chest, "come nearer--nearer. What news have you brought me? Eh? That +Napoleon has left Moscow? Are you sure? Eh?" + +Bolkhovitinov gave a detailed account from the beginning of all he +had been told to report. + +"Speak quicker, quicker! Don't torture me!" Kutuzov interrupted him. + +Bolkhovitinov told him everything and was then silent, awaiting +instructions. Toll was beginning to say something but Kutuzov +checked him. He tried to say something, but his face suddenly puckered +and wrinkled; he waved his arm at Toll and turned to the opposite side +of the room, to the corner darkened by the icons that hung there. + +"O Lord, my Creator, Thou has heard our prayer..." said he in a +tremulous voice with folded hands. "Russia is saved. I thank Thee, O +Lord!" and he wept. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +From the time he received this news to the end of the campaign all +Kutuzov's activity was directed toward restraining his troops, by +authority, by guile, and by entreaty, from useless attacks, maneuvers, +or encounters with the perishing enemy. Dokhturov went to +Malo-Yaroslavets, but Kutuzov lingered with the main army and gave +orders for the evacuation of Kaluga--a retreat beyond which town +seemed to him quite possible. + +Everywhere Kutuzov retreated, but the enemy without waiting for +his retreat fled in the opposite direction. + +Napoleon's historians describe to us his skilled maneuvers at +Tarutino and Malo-Yaroslavets, and make conjectures as to what would +have happened had Napoleon been in time to penetrate into the rich +southern provinces. + +But not to speak of the fact that nothing prevented him from +advancing into those southern provinces (for the Russian army did +not bar his way), the historians forget that nothing could have +saved his army, for then already it bore within itself the germs of +inevitable ruin. How could that army--which had found abundant +supplies in Moscow and had trampled them underfoot instead of +keeping them, and on arriving at Smolensk had looted provisions +instead of storing them--how could that army recuperate in Kaluga +province, which was inhabited by Russians such as those who lived in +Moscow, and where fire had the same property of consuming what was set +ablaze? + +That army could not recover anywhere. Since the battle of Borodino +and the pillage of Moscow it had borne within itself, as it were, +the chemical elements of dissolution. + +The members of what had once been an army--Napoleon himself and +all his soldiers fled--without knowing whither, each concerned only to +make his escape as quickly as possible from this position, of the +hopelessness of which they were all more or less vaguely conscious. + +So it came about that at the council at Malo-Yaroslavets, when the +generals pretending to confer together expressed various opinions, all +mouths were closed by the opinion uttered by the simple-minded soldier +Mouton who, speaking last, said what they all felt: that the one thing +needful was to get away as quickly as possible; and no one, not even +Napoleon, could say anything against that truth which they all +recognized. + +But though they all realized that it was necessary to get away, +there still remained a feeling of shame at admitting that they must +flee. An external shock was needed to overcome that shame, and this +shock came in due time. It was what the French called "le hourra de +l'Empereur." + +The day after the council at Malo-Yaroslavets Napoleon rode out +early in the morning amid the lines of his army with his suite of +marshals and an escort, on the pretext of inspecting the army and +the scene of the previous and of the impending battle. Some Cossacks +on the prowl for booty fell in with the Emperor and very nearly +captured him. If the Cossacks did not capture Napoleon then, what +saved him was the very thing that was destroying the French army, +the booty on which the Cossacks fell. Here as at Tarutino they went +after plunder, leaving the men. Disregarding Napoleon they rushed +after the plunder and Napoleon managed to escape. + +When les enfants du Don might so easily have taken the Emperor +himself in the midst of his army, it was clear that there was +nothing for it but to fly as fast as possible along the nearest, +familiar road. Napoleon with his forty-year-old stomach understood +that hint, not feeling his former agility and boldness, and under +the influence of the fright the Cossacks had given him he at once +agreed with Mouton and issued orders--as the historians tell us--to +retreat by the Smolensk road. + +That Napoleon agreed with Mouton, and that the army retreated, +does not prove that Napoleon caused it to retreat, but that the forces +which influenced the whole army and directed it along the Mozhaysk +(that is, the Smolensk) road acted simultaneously on him also. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +A man in motion always devises an aim for that motion. To be able to +go a thousand miles he must imagine that something good awaits him +at the end of those thousand miles. One must have the prospect of a +promised land to have the strength to move. + +The promised land for the French during their advance had been +Moscow, during their retreat it was their native land. But that native +land was too far off, and for a man going a thousand miles it is +absolutely necessary to set aside his final goal and to say to +himself: "Today I shall get to a place twenty-five miles off where I +shall rest and spend the night," and during the first day's journey +that resting place eclipses his ultimate goal and attracts all his +hopes and desires. And the impulses felt by a single person are always +magnified in a crowd. + +For the French retreating along the old Smolensk road, the final +goal--their native land--was too remote, and their immediate goal +was Smolensk, toward which all their desires and hopes, enormously +intensified in the mass, urged them on. It was not that they knew that +much food and fresh troops awaited them in Smolensk, nor that they +were told so (on the contrary their superior officers, and Napoleon +himself, knew that provisions were scarce there), but because this +alone could give them strength to move on and endure their present +privations. So both those who knew and those who did not know deceived +themselves, and pushed on to Smolensk as to a promised land. + +Coming out onto the highroad the French fled with surprising +energy and unheard-of rapidity toward the goal they had fixed on. +Besides the common impulse which bound the whole crowd of French +into one mass and supplied them with a certain energy, there was +another cause binding them together--their great numbers. As with +the physical law of gravity, their enormous mass drew the individual +human atoms to itself. In their hundreds of thousands they moved +like a whole nation. + +Each of them desired nothing more than to give himself up as a +prisoner to escape from all this horror and misery; but on the one +hand the force of this common attraction to Smolensk, their goal, drew +each of them in the same direction; on the other hand an army corps +could not surrender to a company, and though the French availed +themselves of every convenient opportunity to detach themselves and to +surrender on the slightest decent pretext, such pretexts did not +always occur. Their very numbers and their crowded and swift +movement deprived them of that possibility and rendered it not only +difficult but impossible for the Russians to stop this movement, to +which the French were directing all their energies. Beyond a certain +limit no mechanical disruption of the body could hasten the process of +decomposition. + +A lump of snow cannot be melted instantaneously. There is a +certain limit of time in less than which no amount of heat can melt +the snow. On the contrary the greater the heat the more solidified the +remaining snow becomes. + +Of the Russian commanders Kutuzov alone understood this. When the +flight of the French army along the Smolensk road became well defined, +what Konovnitsyn had foreseen on the night of the eleventh of +October began to occur. The superior officers all wanted to +distinguish themselves, to cut off, to seize, to capture, and to +overthrow the French, and all clamored for action. + +Kutuzov alone used all his power (and such power is very limited +in the case of any commander in chief) to prevent an attack. + +He could not tell them what we say now: "Why fight, why block the +road, losing our own men and inhumanly slaughtering unfortunate +wretches? What is the use of that, when a third of their army has +melted away on the road from Moscow to Vyazma without any battle?" But +drawing from his aged wisdom what they could understand, he told +them of the golden bridge, and they laughed at and slandered him, +flinging themselves on, rending and exulting over the dying beast. + +Ermolov, Miloradovich, Platov, and others in proximity to the French +near Vyazma could not resist their desire to cut off and break up +two French corps, and by way of reporting their intention to Kutuzov +they sent him a blank sheet of paper in an envelope. + +And try as Kutuzov might to restrain the troops, our men attacked, +trying to bar the road. Infantry regiments, we are told, advanced to +the attack with music and with drums beating, and killed and lost +thousands of men. + +But they did not cut off or overthrow anybody and the French army, +closing up more firmly at the danger, continued, while steadily +melting away, to pursue its fatal path to Smolensk. + + + + + + +BOOK FOURTEEN: 1812 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The Battle of Borodino, with the occupation of Moscow that +followed it and the flight of the French without further conflicts, is +one of the most instructive phenomena in history. + +All historians agree that the external activity of states and +nations in their conflicts with one another is expressed in wars, +and that as a direct result of greater or less success in war the +political strength of states and nations increases or decreases. + +Strange as may be the historical account of how some king or +emperor, having quarreled with another, collects an army, fights his +enemy's army, gains a victory by killing three, five, or ten +thousand men, and subjugates a kingdom and an entire nation of several +millions, all the facts of history (as far as we know it) confirm +the truth of the statement that the greater or lesser success of one +army against another is the cause, or at least an essential +indication, of an increase or decrease in the strength of the +nation--even though it is unintelligible why the defeat of an army- +a hundredth part of a nation--should oblige that whole nation to +submit. An army gains a victory, and at once the rights of the +conquering nation have increased to the detriment of the defeated. +An army has suffered defeat, and at once a people loses its rights +in proportion to the severity of the reverse, and if its army +suffers a complete defeat the nation is quite subjugated. + +So according to history it has been found from the most ancient +times, and so it is to our own day. All Napoleon's wars serve to +confirm this rule. In proportion to the defeat of the Austrian army +Austria loses its rights, and the rights and the strength of France +increase. The victories of the French at Jena and Auerstadt destroy +the independent existence of Prussia. + +But then, in 1812, the French gain a victory near Moscow. Moscow +is taken and after that, with no further battles, it is not Russia +that ceases to exist, but the French army of six hundred thousand, and +then Napoleonic France itself. To strain the facts to fit the rules of +history: to say that the field of battle at Borodino remained in the +hands of the Russians, or that after Moscow there were other battles +that destroyed Napoleon's army, is impossible. + +After the French victory at Borodino there was no general engagement +nor any that were at all serious, yet the French army ceased to exist. +What does this mean? If it were an example taken from the history of +China, we might say that it was not an historic phenomenon (which is +the historians' usual expedient when anything does not fit their +standards); if the matter concerned some brief conflict in which +only a small number of troops took part, we might treat it as an +exception; but this event occurred before our fathers' eyes, and for +them it was a question of the life or death of their fatherland, and +it happened in the greatest of all known wars. + +The period of the campaign of 1812 from the battle of Borodino to +the expulsion of the French proved that the winning of a battle does +not produce a conquest and is not even an invariable indication of +conquest; it proved that the force which decides the fate of peoples +lies not in the conquerors, nor even in armies and battles, but in +something else. + +The French historians, describing the condition of the French army +before it left Moscow, affirm that all was in order in the Grand Army, +except the cavalry, the artillery, and the transport--there was no +forage for the horses or the cattle. That was a misfortune no one +could remedy, for the peasants of the district burned their hay rather +than let the French have it. + +The victory gained did not bring the usual results because the +peasants Karp and Vlas (who after the French had evacuated Moscow +drove in their carts to pillage the town, and in general personally +failed to manifest any heroic feelings), and the whole innumerable +multitude of such peasants, did not bring their hay to Moscow for +the high price offered them, but burned it instead. + +Let us imagine two men who have come out to fight a duel with +rapiers according to all the rules of the art of fencing. The +fencing has gone on for some time; suddenly one of the combatants, +feeling himself wounded and understanding that the matter is no joke +but concerns his life, throws down his rapier, and seizing the first +cudgel that comes to hand begins to brandish it. Then let us imagine +that the combatant who so sensibly employed the best and simplest +means to attain his end was at the same time influenced by +traditions of chivalry and, desiring to conceal the facts of the case, +insisted that he had gained his victory with the rapier according to +all the rules of art. One can imagine what confusion and obscurity +would result from such an account of the duel. + +The fencer who demanded a contest according to the rules of +fencing was the French army; his opponent who threw away the rapier +and snatched up the cudgel was the Russian people; those who try to +explain the matter according to the rules of fencing are the +historians who have described the event. + +After the burning of Smolensk a war began which did not follow any +previous traditions of war. The burning of towns and villages, the +retreats after battles, the blow dealt at Borodino and the renewed +retreat, the burning of Moscow, the capture of marauders, the +seizure of transports, and the guerrilla war were all departures +from the rules. + +Napoleon felt this, and from the time he took up the correct fencing +attitude in Moscow and instead of his opponent's rapier saw a cudgel +raised above his head, he did not cease to complain to Kutuzov and +to the Emperor Alexander that the war was being carried on contrary to +all the rules--as if there were any rules for killing people. In spite +of the complaints of the French as to the nonobservance of the +rules, in spite of the fact that to some highly placed Russians it +seemed rather disgraceful to fight with a cudgel and they wanted to +assume a pose en quarte or en tierce according to all the rules, and +to make an adroit thrust en prime, and so on--the cudgel of the +people's war was lifted with all its menacing and majestic strength, +and without consulting anyone's tastes or rules and regardless of +anything else, it rose and fell with stupid simplicity, but +consistently, and belabored the French till the whole invasion had +perished. + +And it is well for a people who do not--as the French did in 1813- +salute according to all the rules of art, and, presenting the hilt +of their rapier gracefully and politely, hand it to their +magnanimous conqueror, but at the moment of trial, without asking what +rules others have adopted in similar cases, simply and easily pick +up the first cudgel that comes to hand and strike with it till the +feeling of resentment and revenge in their soul yields to a feeling of +contempt and compassion. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +One of the most obvious and advantageous departures from the +so-called laws of war is the action of scattered groups against men +pressed together in a mass. Such action always occurs in wars that +take on a national character. In such actions, instead of two crowds +opposing each other, the men disperse, attack singly, run away when +attacked by stronger forces, but again attack when opportunity offers. +This was done by the guerrillas in Spain, by the mountain tribes in +the Caucasus, and by the Russians in 1812. + +People have called this kind of war "guerrilla warfare" and assume +that by so calling it they have explained its meaning. But such a +war does not fit in under any rule and is directly opposed to a +well-known rule of tactics which is accepted as infallible. That +rule says that an attacker should concentrate his forces in order to +be stronger than his opponent at the moment of conflict. + +Guerrilla war (always successful, as history shows) directly +infringes that rule. + +This contradiction arises from the fact that military science +assumes the strength of an army to be identical with its numbers. +Military science says that the more troops the greater the strength. +Les gros bataillons ont toujours raison.* + + +*Large battalions are always victorious. + + +For military science to say this is like defining momentum in +mechanics by reference to the mass only: stating that momenta are +equal or unequal to each other simply because the masses involved +are equal or unequal. + +Momentum (quantity of motion) is the product of mass and velocity. + +In military affairs the strength of an army is the product of its +mass and some unknown x. + +Military science, seeing in history innumerable instances of the +fact that the size of any army does not coincide with its strength and +that small detachments defeat larger ones, obscurely admits the +existence of this unknown factor and tries to discover it--now in a +geometric formation, now in the equipment employed, now, and most +usually, in the genius of the commanders. But the assignment of +these various meanings to the factor does not yield results which +accord with the historic facts. + +Yet it is only necessary to abandon the false view (adopted to +gratify the "heroes") of the efficacy of the directions issued in +wartime by commanders, in order to find this unknown quantity. + +That unknown quantity is the spirit of the army, that is to say, the +greater or lesser readiness to fight and face danger felt by all the +men composing an army, quite independently of whether they are, or are +not, fighting under the command of a genius, in two--or three-line +formation, with cudgels or with rifles that repeat thirty times a +minute. Men who want to fight will always put themselves in the most +advantageous conditions for fighting. + +The spirit of an army is the factor which multiplied by the mass +gives the resulting force. To define and express the significance of +this unknown factor--the spirit of an army--is a problem for science. + +This problem is only solvable if we cease arbitrarily to +substitute for the unknown x itself the conditions under which that +force becomes apparent--such as the commands of the general, the +equipment employed, and so on--mistaking these for the real +significance of the factor, and if we recognize this unknown +quantity in its entirety as being the greater or lesser desire to +fight and to face danger. Only then, expressing known historic facts +by equations and comparing the relative significance of this factor, +can we hope to define the unknown. + +Ten men, battalions, or divisions, fighting fifteen men, battalions, +or divisions, conquer--that is, kill or take captive--all the +others, while themselves losing four, so that on the one side four and +on the other fifteen were lost. Consequently the four were equal to +the fifteen, and therefore 4x = 15y. Consequently x/y = 15/4. This +equation does not give us the value of the unknown factor but gives us +a ratio between two unknowns. And by bringing variously selected +historic units (battles, campaigns, periods of war) into such +equations, a series of numbers could be obtained in which certain laws +should exist and might be discovered. + +The tactical rule that an army should act in masses when +attacking, and in smaller groups in retreat, unconsciously confirms +the truth that the strength of an army depends on its spirit. To +lead men forward under fire more discipline (obtainable only by +movement in masses) is needed than is needed to resist attacks. But +this rule which leaves out of account the spirit of the army +continually proves incorrect and is in particularly striking +contrast to the facts when some strong rise or fall in the spirit of +the troops occurs, as in all national wars. + +The French, retreating in 1812--though according to tactics they +should have separated into detachments to defend themselves- +congregated into a mass because the spirit of the army had so fallen +that only the mass held the army together. The Russians, on the +contrary, ought according to tactics to have attacked in mass, but +in fact they split up into small units, because their spirit had so +risen that separate individuals, without orders, dealt blows at the +French without needing any compulsion to induce them to expose +themselves to hardships and dangers. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The so-called partisan war began with the entry of the French into +Smolensk. + +Before partisan warfare had been officially recognized by the +government, thousands of enemy stragglers, marauders, and foragers had +been destroyed by the Cossacks and the peasants, who killed them off +as instinctively as dogs worry a stray mad dog to death. Denis +Davydov, with his Russian instinct, was the first to recognize the +value of this terrible cudgel which regardless of the rules of +military science destroyed the French, and to him belongs the credit +for taking the first step toward regularizing this method of warfare. + +On August 24 Davydov's first partisan detachment was formed and then +others were recognized. The further the campaign progressed the more +numerous these detachments became. + +The irregulars destroyed the great army piecemeal. They gathered the +fallen leaves that dropped of themselves from that withered tree- +the French army--and sometimes shook that tree itself. By October, +when the French were fleeing toward Smolensk, there were hundreds of +such companies, of various sizes and characters. There were some +that adopted all the army methods and had infantry, artillery, staffs, +and the comforts of life. Others consisted solely of Cossack +cavalry. There were also small scratch groups of foot and horse, and +groups of peasants and landowners that remained unknown. A sacristan +commanded one party which captured several hundred prisoners in the +course of a month; and there was Vasilisa, the wife of a village +elder, who slew hundreds of the French. + +The partisan warfare flamed up most fiercely in the latter days of +October. Its first period had passed: when the partisans themselves, +amazed at their own boldness, feared every minute to be surrounded and +captured by the French, and hid in the forests without unsaddling, +hardly daring to dismount and always expecting to be pursued. By the +end of October this kind of warfare had taken definite shape: it had +become clear to all what could be ventured against the French and what +could not. Now only the commanders of detachments with staffs, and +moving according to rules at a distance from the French, still +regarded many things as impossible. The small bands that had started +their activities long before and had already observed the French +closely considered things possible which the commanders of the big +detachments did not dare to contemplate. The Cossacks and peasants who +crept in among the French now considered everything possible. + +On October 22, Denisov (who was one of the irregulars) was with +his group at the height of the guerrilla enthusiasm. Since early +morning he and his party had been on the move. All day long he had +been watching from the forest that skirted the highroad a large French +convoy of cavalry baggage and Russian prisoners separated from the +rest of the army, which--as was learned from spies and prisoners- +was moving under a strong escort to Smolensk. Besides Denisov and +Dolokhov (who also led a small party and moved in Denisov's vicinity), +the commanders of some large divisions with staffs also knew of this +convoy and, as Denisov expressed it, were sharpening their teeth for +it. Two of the commanders of large parties--one a Pole and the other a +German--sent invitations to Denisov almost simultaneously, +requesting him to join up with their divisions to attack the convoy. + +"No, bwother, I have gwown mustaches myself," said Denisov on +reading these documents, and he wrote to the German that, despite +his heartfelt desire to serve under so valiant and renowned a general, +he had to forgo that pleasure because he was already under the command +of the Polish general. To the Polish general he replied to the same +effect, informing him that he was already under the command of the +German. + +Having arranged matters thus, Denisov and Dolokhov intended, without +reporting matters to the higher command, to attack and seize that +convoy with their own small forces. On October 22 it was moving from +the village of Mikulino to that of Shamshevo. To the left of the +road between Mikulino and Shamshevo there were large forests, +extending in some places up to the road itself though in others a mile +or more back from it. Through these forests Denisov and his party rode +all day, sometimes keeping well back in them and sometimes coming to +the very edge, but never losing sight of the moving French. That +morning, Cossacks of Denisov's party had seized and carried off into +the forest two wagons loaded with cavalry saddles, which had stuck +in the mud not far from Mikulino where the forest ran close to the +road. Since then, and until evening, the party had the movements of +the French without attacking. It was necessary to let the French reach +Shamshevo quietly without alarming them and then, after joining +Dolokhov who was to come that evening to a consultation at a +watchman's hut in the forest less than a mile from Shamshevo, to +surprise the French at dawn, falling like an avalanche on their +heads from two sides, and rout and capture them all at one blow. + +In their rear, more than a mile from Mikulino where the forest +came right up to the road, six Cossacks were posted to report if any +fresh columns of French should show themselves. + +Beyond Shamshevo, Dolokhov was to observe the road in the same +way, to find out at what distance there were other French troops. They +reckoned that the convoy had fifteen hundred men. Denisov had two +hundred, and Dolokhov might have as many more, but the disparity of +numbers did not deter Denisov. All that he now wanted to know was what +troops these were and to learn that he had to capture a "tongue"--that +is, a man from the enemy column. That morning's attack on the wagons +had been made so hastily that the Frenchmen with the wagons had all +been killed; only a little drummer boy had been taken alive, and as he +was a straggler he could tell them nothing definite about the troops +in that column. + +Denisov considered it dangerous to make a second attack for fear +of putting the whole column on the alert, so he sent Tikhon +Shcherbaty, a peasant of his party, to Shamshevo to try and seize at +least one of the French quartermasters who had been sent on in +advance. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +It was a warm rainy autumn day. The sky and the horizon were both +the color of muddy water. At times a sort of mist descended, and +then suddenly heavy slanting rain came down. + +Denisov in a felt cloak and a sheepskin cap from which the rain +ran down was riding a thin thoroughbred horse with sunken sides. +Like his horse, which turned its head and laid its ears back, he +shrank from the driving rain and gazed anxiously before him. His +thin face with its short, thick black beard looked angry. + +Beside Denisov rode an esaul,* Denisov's fellow worker, also in felt +cloak and sheepskin cap, and riding a large sleek Don horse. + + +*A captain of Cossacks. + + +Esaul Lovayski the Third was a tall man as straight as an arrow, +pale-faced, fair-haired, with narrow light eyes and with calm +self-satisfaction in his face and bearing. Though it was impossible to +say in what the peculiarity of the horse and rider lay, yet at first +glance at the esaul and Denisov one saw that the latter was wet and +uncomfortable and was a man mounted on a horse, while looking at the +esaul one saw that he was as comfortable and as much at ease as always +and that he was not a man who had mounted a horse, but a man who was +one with his horse, a being consequently possessed of twofold +strength. + +A little ahead of them walked a peasant guide, wet to the skin and +wearing a gray peasant coat and a white knitted cap. + +A little behind, on a poor, small, lean Kirghiz mount with an +enormous tail and mane and a bleeding mouth, rode a young officer in a +blue French overcoat. + +Beside him rode an hussar, with a boy in a tattered French uniform +and blue cap behind him on the crupper of his horse. The boy held on +to the hussar with cold, red hands, and raising his eyebrows gazed +about him with surprise. This was the French drummer boy captured that +morning. + +Behind them along the narrow, sodden, cutup forest road came hussars +in threes and fours, and then Cossacks: some in felt cloaks, some in +French greatcoats, and some with horsecloths over their heads. The +horses, being drenched by the rain, all looked black whether +chestnut or bay. Their necks, with their wet, close-clinging manes, +looked strangely thin. Steam rose from them. Clothes, saddles, +reins, were all wet, slippery, and sodden, like the ground and the +fallen leaves that strewed the road. The men sat huddled up trying not +to stir, so as to warm the water that had trickled to their bodies and +not admit the fresh cold water that was leaking in under their +seats, their knees, and at the back of their necks. In the midst of +the outspread line of Cossacks two wagons, drawn by French horses +and by saddled Cossack horses that had been hitched on in front, +rumbled over the tree stumps and branches and splashed through the +water that lay in the ruts. + +Denisov's horse swerved aside to avoid a pool in the track and +bumped his rider's knee against a tree. + +"Oh, the devil!" exclaimed Denisov angrily, and showing his teeth he +struck his horse three times with his whip, splashing himself and +his comrades with mud. + +Denisov was out of sorts both because of the rain and also from +hunger (none of them had eaten anything since morning), and yet more +because he still had no news from Dolokhov and the man sent to capture +a "tongue" had not returned. + +"There'll hardly be another such chance to fall on a transport as +today. It's too risky to attack them by oneself, and if we put it +off till another day one of the big guerrilla detachments will +snatch the prey from under our noses," thought Denisov, continually +peering forward, hoping to see a messenger from Dolokhov. + +On coming to a path in the forest along which he could see far to +the right, Denisov stopped. + +"There's someone coming," said he. + +The esaul looked in the direction Denisov indicated. + +"There are two, an officer and a Cossack. But it is not +presupposable that it is the lieutenant colonel himself," said the +esaul, who was fond of using words the Cossacks did not know. + +The approaching riders having descended a decline were no longer +visible, but they reappeared a few minutes later. In front, at a weary +gallop and using his leather whip, rode an officer, disheveled and +drenched, whose trousers had worked up to above his knees. Behind him, +standing in the stirrups, trotted a Cossack. The officer, a very young +lad with a broad rosy face and keen merry eyes, galloped up to Denisov +and handed him a sodden envelope. + +"From the general," said the officer. "Please excuse its not being +quite dry." + +Denisov, frowning, took the envelope and opened it. + +"There, they kept telling us: 'It's dangerous, it's dangerous,'" +said the officer, addressing the esaul while Denisov was reading the +dispatch. "But Komarov and I"--he pointed to the Cossack--"were +prepared. We have each of us two pistols.... But what's this?" he +asked, noticing the French drummer boy. "A prisoner? You've already +been in action? May I speak to him?" + +"Wostov! Petya!" exclaimed Denisov, having run through the dispatch. +"Why didn't you say who you were?" and turning with a smile he held +out his hand to the lad. + +The officer was Petya Rostov. + +All the way Petya had been preparing himself to behave with +Denisov as befitted a grownup man and an officer--without hinting at +their previous acquaintance. But as soon as Denisov smiled at him +Petya brightened up, blushed with pleasure, forgot the official manner +he had been rehearsing, and began telling him how he had already +been in a battle near Vyazma and how a certain hussar had +distinguished himself there. + +"Well, I am glad to see you," Denisov interrupted him, and his +face again assumed its anxious expression. + +"Michael Feoklitych," said he to the esaul, "this is again fwom that +German, you know. He"--he indicated Petya--"is serving under him." + +And Denisov told the esaul that the dispatch just delivered was a +repetition of the German general's demand that he should join forces +with him for an attack on the transport. + +"If we don't take it tomowwow, he'll snatch it fwom under our +noses," he added. + +While Denisov was talking to the esaul, Petya--abashed by +Denisov's cold tone and supposing that it was due to the condition +of his trousers--furtively tried to pull them down under his greatcoat +so that no one should notice it, while maintaining as martial an air +as possible. + +"Will there be any orders, your honor?" he asked Denisov, holding +his hand at the salute and resuming the game of adjutant and general +for which he had prepared himself, "or shall I remain with your +honor?" + +"Orders?" Denisov repeated thoughtfully. "But can you stay till +tomowwow?" + +"Oh, please... May I stay with you?" cried Petya. + +"But, just what did the genewal tell you? To weturn at once?" +asked Denisov. + +Petya blushed. + +"He gave me no instructions. I think I could?" he returned, +inquiringly. + +"Well, all wight," said Denisov. + +And turning to his men he directed a party to go on to the halting +place arranged near the watchman's hut in the forest, and told the +officer on the Kirghiz horse (who performed the duties of an adjutant) +to go and find out where Dolokhov was and whether he would come that +evening. Denisov himself intended going with the esaul and Petya to +the edge of the forest where it reached out to Shamshevo, to have a +look at the part of the French bivouac they were to attack next day. + +"Well, old fellow," said he to the peasant guide, "lead us to +Shamshevo." + +Denisov, Petya, and the esaul, accompanied by some Cossacks and +the hussar who had the prisoner, rode to the left across a ravine to +the edge of the forest. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The rain had stopped, and only the mist was falling and drops from +the trees. Denisov, the esaul, and Petya rode silently, following +the peasant in the knitted cap who, stepping lightly with outturned +toes and moving noiselessly in his bast shoes over the roots and wet +leaves, silently led them to the edge of the forest. + +He ascended an incline, stopped, looked about him, and advanced to +where the screen of trees was less dense. On reaching a large oak tree +that had not yet shed its leaves, he stopped and beckoned mysteriously +to them with his hand. + +Denisov and Petya rode up to him. From the spot where the peasant +was standing they could see the French. Immediately beyond the forest, +on a downward slope, lay a field of spring rye. To the right, beyond a +steep ravine, was a small village and a landowner's house with a +broken roof. In the village, in the house, in the garden, by the well, +by the pond, over all the rising ground, and all along the road uphill +from the bridge leading to the village, not more than five hundred +yards away, crowds of men could be seen through the shimmering mist. +Their un-Russian shouting at their horses which were straining +uphill with the carts, and their calls to one another, could be +clearly heard. + +"Bwing the prisoner here," said Denisov in a low voice, not taking +his eyes off the French. + +A Cossack dismounted, lifted the boy down, and took him to +Denisov. Pointing to the French troops, Denisov asked him what these +and those of them were. The boy, thrusting his cold hands into his +pockets and lifting his eyebrows, looked at Denisov in affright, but +in spite of an evident desire to say all he knew gave confused +answers, merely assenting to everything Denisov asked him. Denisov +turned away from him frowning and addressed the esaul, conveying his +own conjectures to him. + +Petya, rapidly turning his head, looked now at the drummer boy, +now at Denisov, now at the esaul, and now at the French in the village +and along the road, trying not to miss anything of importance. + +"Whether Dolokhov comes or not, we must seize it, eh?" said +Denisov with a merry sparkle in his eyes. + +"It is a very suitable spot," said the esaul. + +"We'll send the infantwy down by the swamps," Denisov continued. +"They'll cweep up to the garden; you'll wide up fwom there with the +Cossacks"--he pointed to a spot in the forest beyond the village--"and +I with my hussars fwom here. And at the signal shot..." + +"The hollow is impassable--there's a swamp there," said the esaul. +"The horses would sink. We must ride round more to the left...." + +While they were talking in undertones the crack of a shot sounded +from the low ground by the pond, a puff of white smoke appeared, +then another, and the sound of hundreds of seemingly merry French +voices shouting together came up from the slope. For a moment +Denisov and the esaul drew back. They were so near that they thought +they were the cause of the firing and shouting. But the firing and +shouting did not relate to them. Down below, a man wearing something +red was running through the marsh. The French were evidently firing +and shouting at him. + +"Why, that's our Tikhon," said the esaul. + +"So it is! It is!" + +"The wascal!" said Denisov. + +"He'll get away!" said the esaul, screwing up his eyes. + +The man whom they called Tikhon, having run to the stream, plunged +in so that the water splashed in the air, and, having disappeared +for an instant, scrambled out on all fours, all black with the wet, +and ran on. The French who had been pursuing him stopped. + +"Smart, that!" said the esaul. + +"What a beast!" said Denisov with his former look of vexation. "What +has he been doing all this time?" + +"Who is he?" asked Petya. + +"He's our plastun. I sent him to capture a 'tongue.'" + +"Oh, yes," said Petya, nodding at the first words Denisov uttered as +if he understood it all, though he really did not understand +anything of it. + +Tikhon Shcherbaty was one of the most indispensable men in their +band. He was a peasant from Pokrovsk, near the river Gzhat. When +Denisov had come to Pokrovsk at the beginning of his operations and +had as usual summoned the village elder and asked him what he knew +about the French, the elder, as though shielding himself, had replied, +as all village elders did, that he had neither seen nor heard anything +of them. But when Denisov explained that his purpose was to kill the +French, and asked if no French had strayed that way, the elder replied +that some "more-orderers" had really been at their village, but that +Tikhon Shcherbaty was the only man who dealt with such matters. +Denisov had Tikhon called and, having praised him for his activity, +said a few words in the elder's presence about loyalty to the Tsar and +the country and the hatred of the French that all sons of the +fatherland should cherish. + +"We don't do the French any harm," said Tikhon, evidently frightened +by Denisov's words. "We only fooled about with the lads for fun, you +know! We killed a score or so of 'more-orderers,' but we did no harm +else..." + +Next day when Denisov had left Pokrovsk, having quite forgotten +about this peasant, it was reported to him that Tikhon had attached +himself to their party and asked to be allowed to remain with it. +Denisov gave orders to let him do so. + +Tikhon, who at first did rough work, laying campfires, fetching +water, flaying dead horses, and so on, soon showed a great liking +and aptitude for partisan warfare. At night he would go out for +booty and always brought back French clothing and weapons, and when +told to would bring in French captives also. Denisov then relieved him +from drudgery and began taking him with him when he went out on +expeditions and had him enrolled among the Cossacks. + +Tikhon did not like riding, and always went on foot, never lagging +behind the cavalry. He was armed with a musketoon (which he carried +rather as a joke), a pike and an ax, which latter he used as a wolf +uses its teeth, with equal case picking fleas out of its fur or +crunching thick bones. Tikhon with equal accuracy would split logs +with blows at arm's length, or holding the head of the ax would cut +thin little pegs or carve spoons. In Denisov's party he held a +peculiar and exceptional position. When anything particularly +difficult or nasty had to be done--to push a cart out of the mud +with one's shoulders, pull a horse out of a swamp by its tail, skin +it, slink in among the French, or walk more than thirty miles in a +day--everybody pointed laughingly at Tikhon. + +"It won't hurt that devil--he's as strong as a horse!" they said +of him. + +Once a Frenchman Tikhon was trying to capture fired a pistol at +him and shot him in the fleshy part of the back. That wound (which +Tikhon treated only with internal and external applications of +vodka) was the subject of the liveliest jokes by the whole detachment- +jokes in which Tikhon readily joined. + +"Hallo, mate! Never again? Gave you a twist?" the Cossacks would +banter him. And Tikhon, purposely writhing and making faces, pretended +to be angry and swore at the French with the funniest curses. The only +effect of this incident on Tikhon was that after being wounded he +seldom brought in prisoners. + +He was the bravest and most useful man in the party. No one found +more opportunities for attacking, no one captured or killed more +Frenchmen, and consequently he was made the buffoon of all the +Cossacks and hussars and willingly accepted that role. Now he had been +sent by Denisov overnight to Shamshevo to capture a "tongue." But +whether because he had not been content to take only one Frenchman +or because he had slept through the night, he had crept by day into +some bushes right among the French and, as Denisov had witnessed +from above, had been detected by them. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +After talking for some time with the esaul about next day's +attack, which now, seeing how near they were to the French, he +seemed to have definitely decided on, Denisov turned his horse and +rode back. + +"Now, my lad, we'll go and get dwy," he said to Petya. + +As they approached the watchhouse Denisov stopped, peering into +the forest. Among the trees a man with long legs and long, swinging +arms, wearing a short jacket, bast shoes, and a Kazan hat, was +approaching with long, light steps. He had a musketoon over his +shoulder and an ax stuck in his girdle. When he espied Denisov he +hastily threw something into the bushes, removed his sodden hat by its +floppy brim, and approached his commander. It was Tikhon. His wrinkled +and pockmarked face and narrow little eyes beamed with +self-satisfied merriment. He lifted his head high and gazed at Denisov +as if repressing a laugh. + +"Well, where did you disappear to?" inquired Denisov. + +"Where did I disappear to? I went to get Frenchmen," answered Tikhon +boldly and hurriedly, in a husky but melodious bass voice. + +"Why did you push yourself in there by daylight? You ass! Well, +why haven't you taken one?" + +"Oh, I took one all right," said Tikhon. + +"Where is he?" + +"You see, I took him first thing at dawn," Tikhon continued, +spreading out his flat feet with outturned toes in their bast shoes. +"I took him into the forest. Then I see he's no good and think I'll go +and fetch a likelier one." + +"You see?... What a wogue--it's just as I thought," said Denisov +to the esaul. "Why didn't you bwing that one?" + +"What was the good of bringing him?" Tikhon interrupted hastily +and angrily--"that one wouldn't have done for you. As if I don't +know what sort you want!" + +"What a bwute you are!... Well?" + +"I went for another one," Tikhon continued, "and I crept like this +through the wood and lay down." (He suddenly lay down on his stomach +with a supple movement to show how he had done it.) "One turned up and +I grabbed him, like this." (He jumped up quickly and lightly.) +"'Come along to the colonel,' I said. He starts yelling, and +suddenly there were four of them. They rushed at me with their +little swords. So I went for them with my ax, this way: 'What are +you up to?' says I. 'Christ be with you!'" shouted Tikhon, waving +his arms with an angry scowl and throwing out his chest. + +"Yes, we saw from the hill how you took to your heels through the +puddles!" said the esaul, screwing up his glittering eyes. + +Petya badly wanted to laugh, but noticed that they all refrained +from laughing. He turned his eyes rapidly from Tikhon's face to the +esaul's and Denisov's, unable to make out what it all meant. + +"Don't play the fool!" said Denisov, coughing angrily. "Why didn't +you bwing the first one?" + +Tikhon scratched his back with one hand and his head with the other, +then suddenly his whole face expanded into a beaming, foolish grin, +disclosing a gap where he had lost a tooth (that was why he was called +Shcherbaty--the gap-toothed). Denisov smiled, and Petya burst into a +peal of merry laughter in which Tikhon himself joined. + +"Oh, but he was a regular good-for-nothing," said Tikhon. "The +clothes on him--poor stuff! How could I bring him? And so rude, your +honor! Why, he says: 'I'm a general's son myself, I won't go!' he +says." + +"You are a bwute!" said Denisov. "I wanted to question..." + +"But I questioned him," said Tikhon. "He said he didn't know much. +'There are a lot of us,' he says, 'but all poor stuff--only soldiers +in name,' he says. 'Shout loud at them,' he says, 'and you'll take +them all,'" Tikhon concluded, looking cheerfully and resolutely into +Denisov's eyes. + +"I'll give you a hundwed sharp lashes--that'll teach you to play the +fool!" said Denisov severely. + +"But why are you angry?" remonstrated Tikhon, "just as if I'd +never seen your Frenchmen! Only wait till it gets dark and I'll +fetch you any of them you want--three if you like." + +"Well, let's go," said Denisov, and rode all the way to the +watchhouse in silence and frowning angrily. + +Tikhon followed behind and Petya heard the Cossacks laughing with +him and at him, about some pair of boots he had thrown into the +bushes. + +When the fit of laughter that had seized him at Tikhon's words and +smile had passed and Petya realized for a moment that this Tikhon +had killed a man, he felt uneasy. He looked round at the captive +drummer boy and felt a pang in his heart. But this uneasiness lasted +only a moment. He felt it necessary to hold his head higher, to +brace himself, and to question the esaul with an air of importance +about tomorrow's undertaking, that he might not be unworthy of the +company in which he found himself. + +The officer who had been sent to inquire met Denisov on the way with +the news that Dolokhov was soon coming and that all was well with him. + +Denisov at once cheered up and, calling Petya to him, said: "Well, +tell me about yourself." + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Petya, having left his people after their departure from Moscow, +joined his regiment and was soon taken as orderly by a general +commanding a large guerrilla detachment. From the time he received his +commission, and especially since he had joined the active army and +taken part in the battle of Vyazma, Petya had been in a constant state +of blissful excitement at being grown-up and in a perpetual ecstatic +hurry not to miss any chance to do something really heroic. He was +highly delighted with what he saw and experienced in the army, but +at the same time it always seemed to him that the really heroic +exploits were being performed just where he did not happen to be. +And he was always in a hurry to get where he was not. + +When on the twenty-first of October his general expressed a wish +to send somebody to Denisov's detachment, Petya begged so piteously to +be sent that the general could not refuse. But when dispatching him he +recalled Petya's mad action at the battle of Vyazma, where instead +of riding by the road to the place to which he had been sent, he had +galloped to the advanced line under the fire of the French and had +there twice fired his pistol. So now the general explicitly forbade +his taking part in any action whatever of Denisov's. That was why +Petya had blushed and grown confused when Denisov asked him whether he +could stay. Before they had ridden to the outskirts of the forest +Petya had considered he must carry out his instructions strictly and +return at once. But when he saw the French and saw Tikhon and +learned that there would certainly be an attack that night, he +decided, with the rapidity with which young people change their views, +that the general, whom he had greatly respected till then, was a +rubbishy German, that Denisov was a hero, the esaul a hero, and Tikhon +a hero too, and that it would be shameful for him to leave them at a +moment of difficulty. + +It was already growing dusk when Denisov, Petya, and the esaul +rode up to the watchhouse. In the twilight saddled horses could be +seen, and Cossacks and hussars who had rigged up rough shelters in the +glade and were kindling glowing fires in a hollow of the forest +where the French could not see the smoke. In the passage of the +small watchhouse a Cossack with sleeves rolled up was chopping some +mutton. In the room three officers of Denisov's band were converting a +door into a tabletop. Petya took off his wet clothes, gave them to +be dried, and at once began helping the officers to fix up the +dinner table. + +In ten minutes the table was ready and a napkin spread on it. On the +table were vodka, a flask of rum, white bread, roast mutton, and salt. + +Sitting at table with the officers and tearing the fat savory mutton +with his hands, down which the grease trickled, Petya was in an +ecstatic childish state of love for all men, and consequently of +confidence that others loved him in the same way. + +"So then what do you think, Vasili Dmitrich?" said he to Denisov. +"It's all right my staying a day with you?" And not waiting for a +reply he answered his own question: "You see I was told to find out- +well, I am finding out.... Only do let me into the very... into the +chief... I don't want a reward... But I want..." + +Petya clenched his teeth and looked around, throwing back his head +and flourishing his arms. + +"Into the vewy chief..." Denisov repeated with a smile. + +"Only, please let me command something, so that I may really +command..." Petya went on. "What would it be to you?... Oh, you want a +knife?" he said, turning to an officer who wished to cut himself a +piece of mutton. + +And he handed him his clasp knife. The officer admired it. + +"Please keep it. I have several like it," said Petya, blushing. +"Heavens! I was quite forgetting!" he suddenly cried. "I have some +raisins, fine ones; you know, seedless ones. We have a new sutler +and he has such capital things. I bought ten pounds. I am used to +something sweet. Would you like some?..." and Petya ran out into the +passage to his Cossack and brought back some bags which contained +about five pounds of raisins. "Have some, gentlemen, have some!" + +"You want a coffeepot, don't you?" he asked the esaul. "I bought a +capital one from our sutler! He has splendid things. And he's very +honest, that's the chief thing. I'll be sure to send it to you. Or +perhaps your flints are giving out, or are worn out--that happens +sometimes, you know. I have brought some with me, here they are"- +and he showed a bag--"a hundred flints. I bought them very cheap. +Please take as many as you want, or all if you like...." + +Then suddenly, dismayed lest he had said too much, Petya stopped and +blushed. + +He tried to remember whether he had not done anything else that +was foolish. And running over the events of the day he remembered +the French drummer boy. "It's capital for us here, but what of him? +Where have they put him? Have they fed him? Haven't they hurt his +feelings?" he thought. But having caught himself saying too much about +the flints, he was now afraid to speak out. + +"I might ask," he thought, "but they'll say: 'He's a boy himself and +so he pities the boy.' I'll show them tomorrow whether I'm a boy. Will +it seem odd if I ask?" Petya thought. "Well, never mind!" and +immediately, blushing and looking anxiously at the officers to see +if they appeared ironical, he said: + +"May I call in that boy who was taken prisoner and give him +something to eat?... Perhaps..." + +"Yes, he's a poor little fellow," said Denisov, who evidently saw +nothing shameful in this reminder. "Call him in. His name is Vincent +Bosse. Have him fetched." + +"I'll call him," said Petya. + +"Yes, yes, call him. A poor little fellow," Denisov repeated. + +Petya was standing at the door when Denisov said this. He slipped in +between the officers, came close to Denisov, and said: + +"Let me kiss you, dear old fellow! Oh, how fine, how splendid!" + +And having kissed Denisov he ran out of the hut. + +"Bosse! Vincent!" Petya cried, stopping outside the door. + +"Who do you want, sir?" asked a voice in the darkness. + +Petya replied that he wanted the French lad who had been captured +that day. + +"Ah, Vesenny?" said a Cossack. + +Vincent, the boy's name, had already been changed by the Cossacks +into Vesenny (vernal) and into Vesenya by the peasants and soldiers. +In both these adaptations the reference to spring (vesna) matched +the impression made by the young lad. + +"He is warming himself there by the bonfire. Ho, Vesenya! +Vesenya!--Vesenny!" laughing voices were heard calling to one +another in the darkness. + +"He's a smart lad," said an hussar standing near Petya. "We gave him +something to eat a while ago. He was awfully hungry!" + +The sound of bare feet splashing through the mud was heard in the +darkness, and the drummer boy came to the door. + +"Ah, c'est vous!" said Petya. "Voulez-vous manger? N'ayez pas +peur, on ne vous fera pas de mal,"* he added shyly and affectionately, +touching the boy's hand. "Entrez, entrez."*[2] + + +*"Ah, it's you! Do you want something to eat? Don't be afraid, +they won't hurt you." + +*[2] "Come in, come in." + + +"Merci, monsieur,"* said the drummer boy in a trembling almost +childish voice, and he began scraping his dirty feet on the threshold. + + +*"Thank you, sir." + + +There were many things Petya wanted to say to the drummer boy, but +did not dare to. He stood irresolutely beside him in the passage. Then +in the darkness he took the boy's hand and pressed it. + +"Come in, come in!" he repeated in a gentle whisper. "Oh, what can I +do for him?" he thought, and opening the door he let the boy pass in +first. + +When the boy had entered the hut, Petya sat down at a distance +from him, considering it beneath his dignity to pay attention to +him. But he fingered the money in his pocket and wondered whether it +would seem ridiculous to give some to the drummer boy. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The arrival of Dolokhov diverted Petya's attention from the +drummer boy, to whom Denisov had had some mutton and vodka given, +and whom he had had dressed in a Russian coat so that he might be kept +with their band and not sent away with the other prisoners. Petya +had heard in the army many stories of Dolokhov's extraordinary bravery +and of his cruelty to the French, so from the moment he entered the +hut Petya did not take his eyes from him, but braced himself up more +and more and held his head high, that he might not be unworthy even of +such company. + +Dolokhov's appearance amazed Petya by its simplicity. + +Denisov wore a Cossack coat, had a beard, had an icon of Nicholas +the Wonder-Worker on his breast, and his way of speaking and +everything he did indicated his unusual position. But Dolokhov, who in +Moscow had worn a Persian costume, had now the appearance of a most +correct officer of the Guards. He was clean-shaven and wore a +Guardsman's padded coat with an Order of St. George at his +buttonhole and a plain forage cap set straight on his head. He took +off his wet felt cloak in a corner of the room, and without greeting +anyone went up to Denisov and began questioning him about the matter +in hand. Denisov told him of the designs the large detachments had +on the transport, of the message Petya had brought, and his own +replies to both generals. Then he told him all he knew of the French +detachment. + +"That's so. But we must know what troops they are and their +numbers," said Dolokhov. "It will be necessary to go there. We can't +start the affair without knowing for certain how many there are. I +like to work accurately. Here now--wouldn't one of these gentlemen +like to ride over to the French camp with me? I have brought a spare +uniform." + +"I, I... I'll go with you!" cried Petya. + +"There's no need for you to go at all," said Denisov, addressing +Dolokhov, "and as for him, I won't let him go on any account." + +"I like that!" exclaimed Petya. "Why shouldn't I go?" + +"Because it's useless." + +"Well, you must excuse me, because... because... I shall go, and +that's all. You'll take me, won't you?" he said, turning to Dolokhov. + +"Why not?" Dolokhov answered absently, scrutinizing the face of +the French drummer boy. "Have you had that youngster with you long?" +he asked Denisov. + +"He was taken today but he knows nothing. I'm keeping him with me." + +"Yes, and where do you put the others?" inquired Dolokhov. + +"Where? I send them away and take a weceipt for them," shouted +Denisov, suddenly flushing. "And I say boldly that I have not a single +man's life on my conscience. Would it be difficult for you to send +thirty or thwee hundwed men to town under escort, instead of staining- +I speak bluntly--staining the honor of a soldier?" + +"That kind of amiable talk would be suitable from this young count +of sixteen," said Dolokhov with cold irony, "but it's time for you +to drop it." + +"Why, I've not said anything! I only say that I'll certainly go with +you," said Petya shyly. + +"But for you and me, old fellow, it's time to drop these amenities," +continued Dolokhov, as if he found particular pleasure in speaking +of this subject which irritated Denisov. "Now, why have you kept +this lad?" he went on, swaying his head. "Because you are sorry for +him! Don't we know those 'receipts' of yours? You send a hundred men +away, and thirty get there. The rest either starve or get killed. So +isn't it all the same not to send them?" + +The esaul, screwing up his light-colored eyes, nodded approvingly. + +"That's not the point. I'm not going to discuss the matter. I do not +wish to take it on my conscience. You say they'll die. All wight. Only +not by my fault!" + +Dolokhov began laughing. + +"Who has told them not to capture me these twenty times over? But if +they did catch me they'd string me up to an aspen tree, and with all +your chivalry just the same." He paused. "However, we must get to +work. Tell the Cossack to fetch my kit. I have two French uniforms +in it. Well, are you coming with me?" he asked Petya. + +"I? Yes, yes, certainly!" cried Petya, blushing almost to tears +and glancing at Denisov. + +While Dolokhov had been disputing with Denisov what should be done +with prisoners, Petya had once more felt awkward and restless; but +again he had no time to grasp fully what they were talking about. +"If grown-up, distinguished men think so, it must be necessary and +right," thought he. "But above all Denisov must not dare to imagine +that I'll obey him and that he can order me about. I will certainly go +to the French camp with Dolokhov. If he can, so can I!" + +And to all Denisov's persuasions, Petya replied that he too was +accustomed to do everything accurately and not just anyhow, and that +he never considered personal danger. + +"For you'll admit that if we don't know for sure how many of them +there are... hundreds of lives may depend on it, while there are +only two of us. Besides, I want to go very much and certainly will go, +so don't hinder me," said he. "It will only make things worse..." + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Having put on French greatcoats and shakos, Petya and Dolokhov +rode to the clearing from which Denisov had reconnoitered the French +camp, and emerging from the forest in pitch darkness they descended +into the hollow. On reaching the bottom, Dolokhov told the Cossacks +accompanying him to await him there and rode on at a quick trot +along the road to the bridge. Petya, his heart in his mouth with +excitement, rode by his side. + +"If we're caught, I won't be taken alive! I have a pistol," +whispered he. + +"Don't talk Russian," said Dolokhov in a hurried whisper, and at +that very moment they heard through the darkness the challenge: "Qui +vive?"* and the click of a musket. + + +*"Who goes there?" + + +The blood rushed to Petya's face and he grasped his pistol. + +"Lanciers du 6-me,"* replied Dolokhov, neither hastening nor +slackening his horse's pace. + + +*"Lancers of the 6th Regiment." + + +The black figure of a sentinel stood on the bridge. + +"Mot d'ordre."* + + +*"Password." + + +Dolokhov reined in his horse and advanced at a walk. + +"Dites donc, le colonel Gerard est ici?"* he asked. + + +*"Tell me, is Colonel Gerard here?" + + +"Mot d'ordre," repeated the sentinel, barring the way and not +replying. + +"Quand un officier fait sa ronde, les sentinelles ne demandent pas +le mot d'ordre..." cried Dolokhov suddenly flaring up and riding +straight at the sentinel. "Je vous demande si le colonel est ici."* + + +*"When an officer is making his round, sentinels don't ask him for +the password.... I am asking you if the colonel is here." + + +And without waiting for an answer from the sentinel, who had stepped +aside, Dolokhov rode up the incline at a walk. + +Noticing the black outline of a man crossing the road, Dolokhov +stopped him and inquired where the commander and officers were. The +man, a soldier with a sack over his shoulder, stopped, came close up +to Dolokhov's horse, touched it with his hand, and explained simply +and in a friendly way that the commander and the officers were +higher up the hill to the right in the courtyard of the farm, as he +called the landowner's house. + +Having ridden up the road, on both sides of which French talk +could be heard around the campfires, Dolokhov turned into the +courtyard of the landowner's house. Having ridden in, he dismounted +and approached a big blazing campfire, around which sat several men +talking noisily. Something was boiling in a small cauldron at the edge +of the fire and a soldier in a peaked cap and blue overcoat, lit up by +the fire, was kneeling beside it stirring its contents with a ramrod. + +"Oh, he's a hard nut to crack," said one of the officers who was +sitting in the shadow at the other side of the fire. + +"He'll make them get a move on, those fellows!" said another, +laughing. + +Both fell silent, peering out through the darkness at the sound of +Dolokhov's and Petya's steps as they advanced to the fire leading +their horses. + +"Bonjour, messieurs!"* said Dolokhov loudly and clearly. + + +*"Good day, gentlemen." + + +There was a stir among the officers in the shadow beyond the fire, +and one tall, long-necked officer, walking round the fire, came up +to Dolokhov. + +"Is that you, Clement?" he asked. "Where the devil...?" But, noticing +his mistake, he broke off short and, with a frown, greeted Dolokhov as +a stranger, asking what he could do for him. + +Dolokhov said that he and his companion were trying to overtake +their regiment, and addressing the company in general asked whether +they knew anything of the 6th Regiment. None of them knew anything, +and Petya thought the officers were beginning to look at him and +Dolokhov with hostility and suspicion. For some seconds all were +silent. + +"If you were counting on the evening soup, you have come too +late," said a voice from behind the fire with a repressed laugh. + +Dolokhov replied that they were not hungry and must push on +farther that night. + +He handed the horses over to the soldier who was stirring the pot +and squatted down on his heels by the fire beside the officer with the +long neck. That officer did not take his eyes from Dolokhov and +again asked to what regiment he belonged. Dolokhov, as if he had not +heard the question, did not reply, but lighting a short French pipe +which he took from his pocket began asking the officer in how far +the road before them was safe from Cossacks. + +"Those brigands are everywhere," replied an officer from behind +the fire. + +Dolokhov remarked that the Cossacks were a danger only to stragglers +such as his companion and himself, "but probably they would not dare +to attack large detachments?" he added inquiringly. No one replied. + +"Well, now he'll come away," Petya thought every moment as he +stood by the campfire listening to the talk. + +But Dolokhov restarted the conversation which had dropped and +began putting direct questions as to how many men there were in the +battalion, how many battalions, and how many prisoners. Asking about +the Russian prisoners with that detachment, Dolokhov said: + +"A horrid business dragging these corpses about with one! It would +be better to shoot such rabble," and burst into loud laughter, so +strange that Petya thought the French would immediately detect their +disguise, and involuntarily took a step back from the campfire. + +No one replied a word to Dolokhov's laughter, and a French officer +whom they could not see (he lay wrapped in a greatcoat) rose and +whispered something to a companion. Dolokhov got up and called to +the soldier who was holding their horses. + +"Will they bring our horses or not?" thought Petya, instinctively +drawing nearer to Dolokhov. + +The horses were brought. + +"Good evening, gentlemen," said Dolokhov. + +Petya wished to say "Good night" but could not utter a word. The +officers were whispering together. Dolokhov was a long time mounting +his horse which would not stand still, then he rode out of the yard at +a footpace. Petya rode beside him, longing to look round to see +whether or no the French were running after them, but not daring to. + +Coming out onto the road Dolokhov did not ride back across the +open country, but through the village. At one spot he stopped and +listened. "Do you hear?" he asked. Petya recognized the sound of +Russian voices and saw the dark figures of Russian prisoners round +their campfires. When they had descended to the bridge Petya and +Dolokhov rode past the sentinel, who without saying a word paced +morosely up and down it, then they descended into the hollow where the +Cossacks awaited them. + +"Well now, good-by. Tell Denisov, 'at the first shot at +daybreak,'" said Dolokhov and was about to ride away, but Petya seized +hold of him. + +"Really!" he cried, "you are such a hero! Oh, how fine, how +splendid! How I love you!" + +"All right, all right!" said Dolokhov. But Petya did not let go of +him and Dolokhov saw through the gloom that Petya was bending toward +him and wanted to kiss him. Dolokhov kissed him, laughed, turned his +horse, and vanished into the darkness. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Having returned to the watchman's hut, Petya found Denisov in the +passage. He was awaiting Petya's return in a state of agitation, +anxiety, and self-reproach for having let him go. + +"Thank God!" he exclaimed. "Yes, thank God!" he repeated, +listening to Petya's rapturous account. "But, devil take you, I +haven't slept because of you! Well, thank God. Now lie down. We can +still get a nap before morning." + +"But... no," said Petya, "I don't want to sleep yet. Besides I +know myself, if I fall asleep it's finished. And then I am used to not +sleeping before a battle." + +He sat awhile in the hut joyfully recalling the details of his +expedition and vividly picturing to himself what would happen next +day. + +Then, noticing that Denisov was asleep, he rose and went out of +doors. + +It was still quite dark outside. The rain was over, but drops were +still falling from the trees. Near the watchman's hut the black shapes +of the Cossacks' shanties and of horses tethered together could be +seen. Behind the hut the dark shapes of the two wagons with their +horses beside them were discernible, and in the hollow the dying +campfire gleamed red. Not all the Cossacks and hussars were asleep; +here and there, amid the sounds of falling drops and the munching of +the horses near by, could be heard low voices which seemed to be +whispering. + +Petya came out, peered into the darkness, and went up to the wagons. +Someone was snoring under them, and around them stood saddled horses +munching their oats. In the dark Petya recognized his own horse, which +he called "Karabakh" though it was of Ukranian breed, and went up to +it. + +"Well, Karabakh! We'll do some service tomorrow," said he, +sniffing its nostrils and kissing it. + +"Why aren't you asleep, sir?" said a Cossack who was sitting under a +wagon. + +"No, ah... Likhachev--isn't that your name? Do you know I have +only just come back! We've been into the French camp." + +And Petya gave the Cossack a detailed account not only of his ride +but also of his object, and why he considered it better to risk his +life than to act "just anyhow." + +"Well, you should get some sleep now," said the Cossack. + +"No, I am used to this," said Petya. "I say, aren't the flints in +your pistols worn out? I brought some with me. Don't you want any? You +can have some." + +The Cossack bent forward from under the wagon to get a closer look +at Petya. + +"Because I am accustomed to doing everything accurately," said +Petya. "Some fellows do things just anyhow, without preparation, and +then they're sorry for it afterwards. I don't like that." + +"Just so," said the Cossack. + +"Oh yes, another thing! Please, my dear fellow, will you sharpen +my saber for me? It's got bl..." (Petya feared to tell a lie, and +the saber never had been sharpened.) "Can you do it?" + +"Of course I can." + +Likhachev got up, rummaged in his pack, and soon Petya heard the +warlike sound of steel on whetstone. He climbed onto the wagon and sat +on its edge. The Cossack was sharpening the saber under the wagon. + +"I say! Are the lads asleep?" asked Petya. + +"Some are, and some aren't--like us." + +"Well, and that boy?" + +"Vesenny? Oh, he's thrown himself down there in the passage. Fast +asleep after his fright. He was that glad!" + +After that Petya remained silent for a long time, listening to the +sounds. He heard footsteps in the darkness and a black figure +appeared. + +"What are you sharpening?" asked a man coming up to the wagon. + +"Why, this gentleman's saber." + +"That's right," said the man, whom Petya took to be an hussar. +"Was the cup left here?" + +"There, by the wheel!" + +The hussar took the cup. + +"It must be daylight soon," said he, yawning, and went away. + +Petya ought to have known that he was in a forest with Denisov's +guerrilla band, less than a mile from the road, sitting on a wagon +captured from the French beside which horses were tethered, that under +it Likhachev was sitting sharpening a saber for him, that the big dark +blotch to the right was the watchman's hut, and the red blotch below +to the left was the dying embers of a campfire, that the man who had +come for the cup was an hussar who wanted a drink; but he neither knew +nor waited to know anything of all this. He was in a fairy kingdom +where nothing resembled reality. The big dark blotch might really be +the watchman's hut or it might be a cavern leading to the very +depths of the earth. Perhaps the red spot was a fire, or it might be +the eye of an enormous monster. Perhaps he was really sitting on a +wagon, but it might very well be that he was not sitting on a wagon +but on a terribly high tower from which, if he fell, he would have +to fall for a whole day or a whole month, or go on falling and never +reach the bottom. Perhaps it was just the Cossack, Likhachev, who +was sitting under the wagon, but it might be the kindest, bravest, +most wonderful, most splendid man in the world, whom no one knew of. +It might really have been that the hussar came for water and went back +into the hollow, but perhaps he had simply vanished--disappeared +altogether and dissolved into nothingness. + +Nothing Petya could have seen now would have surprised him. He was +in a fairy kingdom where everything was possible. + +He looked up at the sky. And the sky was a fairy realm like the +earth. It was clearing, and over the tops of the trees clouds were +swiftly sailing as if unveiling the stars. Sometimes it looked as if +the clouds were passing, and a clear black sky appeared. Sometimes +it seemed as if the black spaces were clouds. Sometimes the sky seemed +to be rising high, high overhead, and then it seemed to sink so low +that one could touch it with one's hand. + +Petya's eyes began to close and he swayed a little. + +The trees were dripping. Quiet talking was heard. The horses neighed +and jostled one another. Someone snored. + +"Ozheg-zheg, Ozheg-zheg..." hissed the saber against the +whetstone, and suddenly Petya heard an harmonious orchestra playing +some unknown, sweetly solemn hymn. Petya was as musical as Natasha and +more so than Nicholas, but had never learned music or thought about +it, and so the melody that unexpectedly came to his mind seemed to him +particularly fresh and attractive. The music became more and more +audible. The melody grew and passed from one instrument to another. +And what was played was a fugue--though Petya had not the least +conception of what a fugue is. Each instrument--now resembling a +violin and now a horn, but better and clearer than violin or horn- +played its own part, and before it had finished the melody merged with +another instrument that began almost the same air, and then with a +third and a fourth; and they all blended into one and again became +separate and again blended, now into solemn church music, now into +something dazzlingly brilliant and triumphant. + +"Oh--why, that was in a dream!" Petya said to himself, as he lurched +forward. "It's in my ears. But perhaps it's music of my own. Well, +go on, my music! Now!..." + +He closed his eyes, and, from all sides as if from a distance, +sounds fluttered, grew into harmonies, separated, blended, and again +all mingled into the same sweet and solemn hymn. "Oh, this is +delightful! As much as I like and as I like!" said Petya to himself. +He tried to conduct that enormous orchestra. + +"Now softly, softly die away!" and the sounds obeyed him. "Now +fuller, more joyful. Still more and more joyful!" And from an +unknown depth rose increasingly triumphant sounds. "Now voices join +in!" ordered Petya. And at first from afar he heard men's voices and +then women's. The voices grew in harmonious triumphant strength, and +Petya listened to their surpassing beauty in awe and joy. + +With a solemn triumphal march there mingled a song, the drip from +the trees, and the hissing of the saber, "Ozheg-zheg-zheg..." and +again the horses jostled one another and neighed, not disturbing the +choir but joining in it. + +Petya did not know how long this lasted: he enjoyed himself all +the time, wondered at his enjoyment and regretted that there was no +one to share it. He was awakened by Likhachev's kindly voice. + +"It's ready, your honor; you can split a Frenchman in half with it!" + +Petya woke up. + +"It's getting light, it's really getting light!" he exclaimed. + +The horses that had previously been invisible could now be seen to +their very tails, and a watery light showed itself through the bare +branches. Petya shook himself, jumped up, took a ruble from his pocket +and gave it to Likhachev; then he flourished the saber, tested it, and +sheathed it. The Cossacks were untying their horses and tightening +their saddle girths. + +"And here's the commander," said Likhachev. + +Denisov came out of the watchman's hut and, having called Petya, +gave orders to get ready. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +The men rapidly picked out their horses in the semidarkness, +tightened their saddle girths, and formed companies. Denisov stood +by the watchman's hut giving final orders. The infantry of the +detachment passed along the road and quickly disappeared amid the +trees in the mist of early dawn, hundreds of feet splashing through +the mud. The esaul gave some orders to his men. Petya held his horse +by the bridle, impatiently awaiting the order to mount. His face, +having been bathed in cold water, was all aglow, and his eyes were +particularly brilliant. Cold shivers ran down his spine and his +whole body pulsed rhythmically. + +"Well, is ev'wything weady?" asked Denisov. "Bwing the horses." + +The horses were brought. Denisov was angry with the Cossack +because the saddle girths were too slack, reproved him, and mounted. +Petya put his foot in the stirrup. His horse by habit made as if to +nip his leg, but Petya leaped quickly into the saddle unconscious of +his own weight and, turning to look at the hussars starting in the +darkness behind him, rode up to Denisov. + +"Vasili Dmitrich, entrust me with some commission! Please... for +God's sake...!" said he. + +Denisov seemed to have forgotten Petya's very existence. He turned +to glance at him. + +"I ask one thing of you," he said sternly, "to obey me and not shove +yourself forward anywhere." + +He did not say another word to Petya but rode in silence all the +way. When they had come to the edge of the forest it was noticeably +growing light over the field. Denisov talked in whispers with the +esaul and the Cossacks rode past Petya and Denisov. When they had +all ridden by, Denisov touched his horse and rode down the hill. +Slipping onto their haunches and sliding, the horses descended with +their riders into the ravine. Petya rode beside Denisov, the pulsation +of his body constantly increasing. It was getting lighter and lighter, +but the mist still hid distant objects. Having reached the valley, +Denisov looked back and nodded to a Cossack beside him. + +"The signal!" said he. + +The Cossack raised his arm and a shot rang out. In an instant the +tramp of horses galloping forward was heard, shouts came from +various sides, and then more shots. + +At the first sound of trampling hoofs and shouting, Petya lashed his +horse and loosening his rein galloped forward, not heeding Denisov who +shouted at him. It seemed to Petya that at the moment the shot was +fired it suddenly became as bright as noon. He galloped to the bridge. +Cossacks were galloping along the road in front of him. On the +bridge he collided with a Cossack who had fallen behind, but he +galloped on. In front of him soldiers, probably Frenchmen, were +running from right to left across the road. One of them fell in the +mud under his horse's feet. + +Cossacks were crowding about a hut, busy with something. From the +midst of that crowd terrible screams arose. Petya galloped up, and the +first thing he saw was the pale face and trembling jaw of a Frenchman, +clutching the handle of a lance that had been aimed at him. + +"Hurrah!... Lads!... ours!" shouted Petya, and giving rein to his +excited horse he galloped forward along the village street. + +He could hear shooting ahead of him. Cossacks, hussars, and ragged +Russian prisoners, who had come running from both sides of the road, +were shouting something loudly and incoherently. A gallant-looking +Frenchman, in a blue overcoat, capless, and with a frowning red +face, had been defending himself against the hussars. When Petya +galloped up the Frenchman had already fallen. "Too late again!" +flashed through Petya's mind and he galloped on to the place from +which the rapid firing could be heard. The shots came from the yard of +the landowner's house he had visited the night before with Dolokhov. +The French were making a stand there behind a wattle fence in a garden +thickly overgrown with bushes and were firing at the Cossacks who +crowded at the gateway. Through the smoke, as he approached the +gate, Petya saw Dolokhov, whose face was of a pale-greenish tint, +shouting to his men. "Go round! Wait for the infantry!" he exclaimed +as Petya rode up to him. + +"Wait?... Hurrah-ah-ah!" shouted Petya, and without pausing a moment +galloped to the place whence came the sounds of firing and where the +smoke was thickest. + +A volley was heard, and some bullets whistled past, while others +plashed against something. The Cossacks and Dolokhov galloped after +Petya into the gateway of the courtyard. In the dense wavering smoke +some of the French threw down their arms and ran out of the bushes +to meet the Cossacks, while others ran down the hill toward the +pond. Petya was galloping along the courtyard, but instead of +holding the reins he waved both his arms about rapidly and +strangely, slipping farther and farther to one side in his saddle. His +horse, having galloped up to a campfire that was smoldering in the +morning light, stopped suddenly, and Petya fell heavily on to the +wet ground. The Cossacks saw that his arms and legs jerked rapidly +though his head was quite motionless. A bullet had pierced his skull. + +After speaking to the senior French officer, who came out of the +house with a white handkerchief tied to his sword and announced that +they surrendered, Dolokhov dismounted and went up to Petya, who lay +motionless with outstretched arms. + +"Done for!" he said with a frown, and went to the gate to meet +Denisov who was riding toward him. + +"Killed?" cried Denisov, recognizing from a distance the +unmistakably lifeless attitude--very familiar to him--in which Petya's +body was lying. + +"Done for!" repeated Dolokhov as if the utterance of these words +afforded him pleasure, and he went quickly up to the prisoners, who +were surrounded by Cossacks who had hurried up. "We won't take +them!" he called out to Denisov. + +Denisov did not reply; he rode up to Petya, dismounted, and with +trembling hands turned toward himself the bloodstained, +mud-bespattered face which had already gone white. + +"I am used to something sweet. Raisins, fine ones... take them all!" +he recalled Petya's words. And the Cossacks looked round in surprise +at the sound, like the yelp of a dog, with which Denisov turned +away, walked to the wattle fence, and seized hold of it. + +Among the Russian prisoners rescued by Denisov and Dolokhov was +Pierre Bezukhov. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +During the whole of their march from Moscow no fresh orders had been +issued by the French authorities concerning the party of prisoners +among whom was Pierre. On the twenty-second of October that party +was no longer with the same troops and baggage trains with which it +had left Moscow. Half the wagons laden with hardtack that had traveled +the first stages with them had been captured by Cossacks, the other +half had gone on ahead. Not one of those dismounted cavalrymen who had +marched in front of the prisoners was left; they had all +disappeared. The artillery the prisoners had seen in front of them +during the first days was now replaced by Marshal Junot's enormous +baggage train, convoyed by Westphalians. Behind the prisoners came a +cavalry baggage train. + +From Vyazma onwards the French army, which had till then moved in +three columns, went on as a single group. The symptoms of disorder +that Pierre had noticed at their first halting place after leaving +Moscow had now reached the utmost limit. + +The road along which they moved was bordered on both sides by dead +horses; ragged men who had fallen behind from various regiments +continually changed about, now joining the moving column, now again +lagging behind it. + +Several times during the march false alarms had been given and the +soldiers of the escort had raised their muskets, fired, and run +headlong, crushing one another, but had afterwards reassembled and +abused each other for their causeless panic. + +These three groups traveling together--the cavalry stores, the +convoy of prisoners, and Junot's baggage train--still constituted a +separate and united whole, though each of the groups was rapidly +melting away. + +Of the artillery baggage train which had consisted of a hundred +and twenty wagons, not more than sixty now remained; the rest had been +captured or left behind. Some of Junot's wagons also had been captured +or abandoned. Three wagons had been raided and robbed by stragglers +from Davout's corps. From the talk of the Germans Pierre learned +that a larger guard had been allotted to that baggage train than to +the prisoners, and that one of their comrades, a German soldier, had +been shot by the marshal's own order because a silver spoon +belonging to the marshal had been found in his possession. + +The group of prisoners had melted away most of all. Of the three +hundred and thirty men who had set out from Moscow fewer than a +hundred now remained. The prisoners were more burdensome to the escort +than even the cavalry saddles or Junot's baggage. They understood that +the saddles and Junot's spoon might be of some use, but that cold +and hungry soldiers should have to stand and guard equally cold and +hungry Russians who froze and lagged behind on the road (in which case +the order was to shoot them) was not merely incomprehensible but +revolting. And the escort, as if afraid, in the grievous condition +they themselves were in, of giving way to the pity they felt for the +prisoners and so rendering their own plight still worse, treated +them with particular moroseness and severity. + +At Dorogobuzh while the soldiers of the convoy, after locking the +prisoners in a stable, had gone off to pillage their own stores, +several of the soldier prisoners tunneled under the wall and ran away, +but were recaptured by the French and shot. + +The arrangement adopted when they started, that the officer +prisoners should be kept separate from the rest, had long since been +abandoned. All who could walk went together, and after the third stage +Pierre had rejoined Karataev and the gray-blue bandy-legged dog that +had chosen Karataev for its master. + +On the third day after leaving Moscow Karataev again fell ill with +the fever he had suffered from in the hospital in Moscow, and as he +grew gradually weaker Pierre kept away from him. Pierre did not know +why, but since Karataev had begun to grow weaker it had cost him an +effort to go near him. When he did so and heard the subdued moaning +with which Karataev generally lay down at the halting places, and when +he smelled the odor emanating from him which was now stronger than +before, Pierre moved farther away and did not think about him. + +While imprisoned in the shed Pierre had learned not with his +intellect but with his whole being, by life itself, that man is +created for happiness, that happiness is within him, in the +satisfaction of simple human needs, and that all unhappiness arises +not from privation but from superfluity. And now during these last +three weeks of the march he had learned still another new, consolatory +truth--that nothing in this world is terrible. He had learned that +as there is no condition in which man can be happy and entirely +free, so there is no condition in which he need be unhappy and lack +freedom. He learned that suffering and freedom have their limits and +that those limits are very near together; that the person in a bed +of roses with one crumpled petal suffered as keenly as he now, +sleeping on the bare damp earth with one side growing chilled while +the other was warming; and that when he had put on tight dancing shoes +he had suffered just as he did now when he walked with bare feet +that were covered with sores--his footgear having long since fallen to +pieces. He discovered that when he had married his wife--of his own +free will as it had seemed to him--he had been no more free than now +when they locked him up at night in a stable. Of all that he himself +subsequently termed his sufferings, but which at the time he +scarcely felt, the worst was the state of his bare, raw, and +scab-covered feet. (The horseflesh was appetizing and nourishing, +the saltpeter flavor of the gunpowder they used instead of salt was +even pleasant; there was no great cold, it was always warm walking +in the daytime, and at night there were the campfires; the lice that +devoured him warmed his body.) The one thing that was at first hard to +bear was his feet. + +After the second day's march Pierre, having examined his feet by the +campfire, thought it would be impossible to walk on them; but when +everybody got up he went along, limping, and, when he had warmed up, +walked without feeling the pain, though at night his feet were more +terrible to look at than before. However, he did not look at them now, +but thought of other things. + +Only now did Pierre realize the full strength of life in man and the +saving power he has of transferring his attention from one thing to +another, which is like the safety valve of a boiler that allows +superfluous steam to blow off when the pressure exceeds a certain +limit. + +He did not see and did not hear how they shot the prisoners who +lagged behind, though more than a hundred perished in that way. He did +not think of Karataev who grew weaker every day and evidently would +soon have to share that fate. Still less did Pierre think about +himself. The harder his position became and the more terrible the +future, the more independent of that position in which he found +himself were the joyful and comforting thoughts, memories, and +imaginings that came to him. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +At midday on the twenty-second of October Pierre was going uphill +along the muddy, slippery road, looking at his feet and at the +roughness of the way. Occasionally he glanced at the familiar crowd +around him and then again at his feet. The former and the latter +were alike familiar and his own. The blue-gray bandy legged dog ran +merrily along the side of the road, sometimes in proof of its +agility and self-satisfaction lifting one hind leg and hopping along +on three, and then again going on all four and rushing to bark at +the crows that sat on the carrion. The dog was merrier and sleeker +than it had been in Moscow. All around lay the flesh of different +animals--from men to horses--in various stages of decomposition; and +as the wolves were kept off by the passing men the dog could eat all +it wanted. + +It had been raining since morning and had seemed as if at any moment +it might cease and the sky clear, but after a short break it began +raining harder than before. The saturated road no longer absorbed +the water, which ran along the ruts in streams. + +Pierre walked along, looking from side to side, counting his steps +in threes, and reckoning them off on his fingers. Mentally +addressing the rain, he repeated: "Now then, now then, go on! Pelt +harder!" + +It seemed to him that he was thinking of nothing, but far down and +deep within him his soul was occupied with something important and +comforting. This something was a most subtle spiritual deduction +from a conversation with Karataev the day before. + +At their yesterday's halting place, feeling chilly by a dying +campfire, Pierre had got up and gone to the next one, which was +burning better. There Platon Karataev was sitting covered up--head and +all--with his greatcoat as if it were a vestment, telling the soldiers +in his effective and pleasant though now feeble voice a story Pierre +knew. It was already past midnight, the hour when Karataev was usually +free of his fever and particularly lively. When Pierre reached the +fire and heard Platon's voice enfeebled by illness, and saw his +pathetic face brightly lit up by the blaze, he felt a painful prick at +his heart. His feeling of pity for this man frightened him and he +wished to go away, but there was no other fire, and Pierre sat down, +trying not to look at Platon. + +"Well, how are you?" he asked. + +"How am I? If we grumble at sickness, God won't grant us death," +replied Platon, and at once resumed the story he had begun. + +"And so, brother," he continued, with a smile on his pale +emaciated face and a particularly happy light in his eyes, "you +see, brother..." + +Pierre had long been familiar with that story. Karataev had told +it to him alone some half-dozen times and always with a specially +joyful emotion. But well as he knew it, Pierre now listened to that +tale as to something new, and the quiet rapture Karataev evidently +felt as he told it communicated itself also to Pierre. The story was +of an old merchant who lived a good and God-fearing life with his +family, and who went once to the Nizhni fair with a companion--a +rich merchant. + +Having put up at an inn they both went to sleep, and next morning +his companion was found robbed and with his throat cut. A bloodstained +knife was found under the old merchant's pillow. He was tried, +knouted, and his nostrils having been torn off, "all in due form" as +Karataev put it, he was sent to hard labor in Siberia. + +"And so, brother" (it was at this point that Pierre came up), "ten +years or more passed by. The old man was living as a convict, +submitting as he should and doing no wrong. Only he prayed to God +for death. Well, one night the convicts were gathered just as we +are, with the old man among them. And they began telling what each was +suffering for, and how they had sinned against God. One told how he +had taken a life, another had taken two, a third had set a house on +fire, while another had simply been a vagrant and had done nothing. So +they asked the old man: 'What are you being punished for, Daddy?'--'I, +my dear brothers,' said he, 'am being punished for my own and other +men's sins. But I have not killed anyone or taken anything that was +not mine, but have only helped my poorer brothers. I was a merchant, +my dear brothers, and had much property. 'And he went on to tell +them all about it in due order. 'I don't grieve for myself,' he +says, 'God, it seems, has chastened me. Only I am sorry for my old +wife and the children,' and the old man began to weep. Now it happened +that in the group was the very man who had killed the other +merchant. 'Where did it happen, Daddy?' he said. 'When, and in what +month?' He asked all about it and his heart began to ache. So he comes +up to the old man like this, and falls down at his feet! 'You are +perishing because of me, Daddy,' he says. 'It's quite true, lads, that +this man,' he says, 'is being tortured innocently and for nothing! I,' +he says, 'did that deed, and I put the knife under your head while you +were asleep. Forgive me, Daddy,' he says, 'for Christ's sake!'" + +Karataev paused, smiling joyously as he gazed into the fire, and +he drew the logs together. + +"And the old man said, 'God will forgive you, we are all sinners +in His sight. I suffer for my own sins,' and he wept bitter tears. +Well, and what do you think, dear friends?" Karataev continued, his +face brightening more and more with a rapturous smile as if what he +now had to tell contained the chief charm and the whole meaning of his +story: "What do you think, dear fellows? That murderer confessed to +the authorities. 'I have taken six lives,' he says (he was a great +sinner), 'but what I am most sorry for is this old man. Don't let +him suffer because of me.' So he confessed and it was all written down +and the papers sent off in due form. The place was a long way off, and +while they were judging, what with one thing and another, filling in +the papers all in due form--the authorities I mean--time passed. The +affair reached the Tsar. After a while the Tsar's decree came: to +set the merchant free and give him a compensation that had been +awarded. The paper arrived and they began to look for the old man. +'Where is the old man who has been suffering innocently and in vain? A +paper has come from the Tsar!' so they began looking for him," here +Karataev's lower jaw trembled, "but God had already forgiven him--he +was dead! That's how it was, dear fellows!" Karataev concluded and sat +for a long time silent, gazing before him with a smile. + +And Pierre's soul was dimly but joyfully filled not by the story +itself but by its mysterious significance: by the rapturous joy that +lit up Karataev's face as he told it, and the mystic significance of +that joy. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +"A vos places!"* suddenly cried a voice. + + +*"To your places." + + +A pleasant feeling of excitement and an expectation of something +joyful and solemn was aroused among the soldiers of the convoy and the +prisoners. From all sides came shouts of command, and from the left +came smartly dressed cavalrymen on good horses, passing the +prisoners at a trot. The expression on all faces showed the tension +people feel at the approach of those in authority. The prisoners +thronged together and were pushed off the road. The convoy formed up. + +"The Emperor! The Emperor! The Marshal! The Duke!" and hardly had +the sleek cavalry passed, before a carriage drawn by six gray horses +rattled by. Pierre caught a glimpse of a man in a three-cornered hat +with a tranquil look on his handsome, plump, white face. It was one of +the marshals. His eye fell on Pierre's large and striking figure, +and in the expression with which he frowned and looked away Pierre +thought he detected sympathy and a desire to conceal that sympathy. + +The general in charge of the stores galloped after the carriage with +a red and frightened face, whipping up his skinny horse. Several +officers formed a group and some soldiers crowded round them. Their +faces all looked excited and worried. + +"What did he say? What did he say?" Pierre heard them ask. + +While the marshal was passing, the prisoners had huddled together in +a crowd, and Pierre saw Karataev whom he had not yet seen that +morning. He sat in his short overcoat leaning against a birch tree. On +his face, besides the look of joyful emotion it had worn yesterday +while telling the tale of the merchant who suffered innocently, +there was now an expression of quiet solemnity. + +Karataev looked at Pierre with his kindly round eyes now filled with +tears, evidently wishing him to come near that he might say +something to him. But Pierre was not sufficiently sure of himself. +He made as if he did not notice that look and moved hastily away. + +When the prisoners again went forward Pierre looked round. +Karataev was still sitting at the side of the road under the birch +tree and two Frenchmen were talking over his head. Pierre did not look +round again but went limping up the hill. + +From behind, where Karataev had been sitting, came the sound of a +shot. Pierre heard it plainly, but at that moment he remembered that +he had not yet finished reckoning up how many stages still remained to +Smolensk--a calculation he had begun before the marshal went by. And +he again started reckoning. Two French soldiers ran past Pierre, one +of whom carried a lowered and smoking gun. They both looked pale, +and in the expression on their faces--one of them glanced timidly at +Pierre--there was something resembling what he had seen on the face of +the young soldier at the execution. Pierre looked at the soldier and +remembered that, two days before, that man had burned his shirt +while drying it at the fire and how they had laughed at him. + +Behind him, where Karataev had been sitting, the dog began to +howl. "What a stupid beast! Why is it howling?" thought Pierre. + +His comrades, the prisoner soldiers walking beside him, avoided +looking back at the place where the shot had been fired and the dog +was howling, just as Pierre did, but there was a set look on all their +faces. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +The stores, the prisoners, and the marshal's baggage train stopped +at the village of Shamshevo. The men crowded together round the +campfires. Pierre went up to the fire, ate some roast horseflesh, +lay down with his back to the fire, and immediately fell asleep. He +again slept as he had done at Mozhaysk after the battle of Borodino. + +Again real events mingled with dreams and again someone, he or +another, gave expression to his thoughts, and even to the same +thoughts that had been expressed in his dream at Mozhaysk. + +"Life is everything. Life is God. Everything changes and moves and +that movement is God. And while there is life there is joy in +consciousness of the divine. To love life is to love God. Harder and +more blessed than all else is to love this life in one's sufferings, +in innocent sufferings." + +"Karataev!" came to Pierre's mind. + +And suddenly he saw vividly before him a long-forgotten, kindly +old man who had given him geography lessons in Switzerland. "Wait a +bit," said the old man, and showed Pierre a globe. This globe was +alive--a vibrating ball without fixed dimensions. Its whole surface +consisted of drops closely pressed together, and all these drops moved +and changed places, sometimes several of them merging into one, +sometimes one dividing into many. Each drop tried to spread out and +occupy as much space as possible, but others striving to do the same +compressed it, sometimes destroyed it, and sometimes merged with it. + +"That is life," said the old teacher. + +"How simple and clear it is," thought Pierre. "How is it I did not +know it before?" + +"God is in the midst, and each drop tries to expand so as to reflect +Him to the greatest extent. And it grows, merges, disappears from +the surface, sinks to the depths, and again emerges. There now, +Karataev has spread out and disappeared. Do you understand, my child?" +said the teacher. + +"Do you understand, damn you?" shouted a voice, and Pierre woke up. + +He lifted himself and sat up. A Frenchman who had just pushed a +Russian soldier away was squatting by the fire, engaged in roasting +a piece of meat stuck on a ramrod. His sleeves were rolled up and +his sinewy, hairy, red hands with their short fingers deftly turned +the ramrod. His brown morose face with frowning brows was clearly +visible by the glow of the charcoal. + +"It's all the same to him," he muttered, turning quickly to a +soldier who stood behind him. "Brigand! Get away!" + +And twisting the ramrod he looked gloomily at Pierre, who turned +away and gazed into the darkness. A prisoner, the Russian soldier +the Frenchman had pushed away, was sitting near the fire patting +something with his hand. Looking more closely Pierre recognized the +blue-gray dog, sitting beside the soldier, wagging its tail. + +"Ah, he's come?" said Pierre. "And Plat-" he began, but did not +finish. + +Suddenly and simultaneously a crowd of memories awoke in his +fancy--of the look Platon had given him as he sat under the tree, of +the shot heard from that spot, of the dog's howl, of the guilty +faces of the two Frenchmen as they ran past him, of the lowered and +smoking gun, and of Karataev's absence at this halt--and he was on the +point of realizing that Karataev had been killed, but just at that +instant, he knew not why, the recollection came to his mind of a +summer evening he had spent with a beautiful Polish lady on the +veranda of his house in Kiev. And without linking up the events of the +day or drawing a conclusion from them, Pierre closed his eyes, +seeing a vision of the country in summertime mingled with memories +of bathing and of the liquid, vibrating globe, and he sank into +water so that it closed over his head. + +Before sunrise he was awakened by shouts and loud and rapid +firing. French soldiers were running past him. + +"The Cossacks!" one of them shouted, and a moment later a crowd of +Russians surrounded Pierre. + +For a long time he could not understand what was happening to him. +All around he heard his comrades sobbing with joy. + +"Brothers! Dear fellows! Darlings!" old soldiers exclaimed, weeping, +as they embraced Cossacks and hussars. + +The hussars and Cossacks crowded round the prisoners; one offered +them clothes, another boots, and a third bread. Pierre sobbed as he +sat among them and could not utter a word. He hugged the first soldier +who approached him, and kissed him, weeping. + +Dolokhov stood at the gate of the ruined house, letting a crowd of +disarmed Frenchmen pass by. The French, excited by all that had +happened, were talking loudly among themselves, but as they passed +Dolokhov who gently switched his boots with his whip and watched +them with cold glassy eyes that boded no good, they became silent. +On the opposite side stood Dolokhov's Cossack, counting the +prisoners and marking off each hundred with a chalk line on the gate. + +"How many?" Dolokhov asked the Cossack. + +"The second hundred," replied the Cossack. + +"Filez, filez!"* Dolokhov kept saying, having adopted this +expression from the French, and when his eyes met those of the +prisoners they flashed with a cruel light. + + +*"Get along, get along!" + + +Denisov, bareheaded and with a gloomy face, walked behind some +Cossacks who were carrying the body of Petya Rostov to a hole that had +been dug in the garden. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +After the twenty-eighth of October when the frosts began, the flight +of the French assumed a still more tragic character, with men +freezing, or roasting themselves to death at the campfires, while +carriages with people dressed in furs continued to drive past, +carrying away the property that had been stolen by the Emperor, kings, +and dukes; but the process of the flight and disintegration of the +French army went on essentially as before. + +From Moscow to Vyazma the French army of seventy-three thousand +men not reckoning the Guards (who did nothing during the whole war but +pillage) was reduced to thirty-six thousand, though not more than five +thousand had fallen in battle. From this beginning the succeeding +terms of the progression could be determined mathematically. The +French army melted away and perished at the same rate from Moscow to +Vyazma, from Vyazma to Smolensk, from Smolensk to the Berezina, and +from the Berezina to Vilna--independently of the greater or lesser +intensity of the cold, the pursuit, the barring of the way, or any +other particular conditions. Beyond Vyazma the French army instead +of moving in three columns huddled together into one mass, and so went +on to the end. Berthier wrote to his Emperor (we know how far +commanding officers allow themselves to diverge from the truth in +describing the condition of an army) and this is what he said: + + +I deem it my duty to report to Your Majesty the condition of the +various corps I have had occasion to observe during different stages +of the last two or three days' march. They are almost disbanded. +Scarcely a quarter of the soldiers remain with the standards of +their regiments, the others go off by themselves in different +directions hoping to find food and escape discipline. In general +they regard Smolensk as the place where they hope to recover. During +the last few days many of the men have been seen to throw away their +cartridges and their arms. In such a state of affairs, whatever your +ultimate plans may be, the interest of Your Majesty's service +demands that the army should be rallied at Smolensk and should first +of all be freed from ineffectives, such as dismounted cavalry, +unnecessary baggage, and artillery material that is no longer in +proportion to the present forces. The soldiers, who are worn out +with hunger and fatigue, need these supplies as well as a few days' +rest. Many have died last days on the road or at the bivouacs. This +state of things is continually becoming worse and makes one fear +that unless a prompt remedy is applied the troops will no longer be +under control in case of an engagement. + +November 9: twenty miles from Smolensk. + + +After staggering into Smolensk which seemed to them a promised land, +the French, searching for food, killed one another, sacked their own +stores, and when everything had been plundered fled farther. + +They all went without knowing whither or why they were going. +Still less did that genius, Napoleon, know it, for no one issued any +orders to him. But still he and those about him retained their old +habits: wrote commands, letters, reports, and orders of the day; +called one another sire, mon cousin, prince d'Eckmuhl, roi de +Naples, and so on. But these orders and reports were only on paper, +nothing in them was acted upon for they could not be carried out, +and though they entitled one another Majesties, Highnesses, or +Cousins, they all felt that they were miserable wretches who had +done much evil for which they had now to pay. And though they +pretended to be concerned about the army, each was thinking only of +himself and of how to get away quickly and save himself. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +The movements of the Russian and French armies during the campaign +from Moscow back to the Niemen were like those in a game of Russian +blindman's bluff, in which two players are blindfolded and one of them +occasionally rings a little bell to inform the catcher of his +whereabouts. First he rings his bell fearlessly, but when he gets into +a tight place he runs away as quietly as he can, and often thinking to +escape runs straight into his opponent's arms. + +At first while they were still moving along the Kaluga road, +Napoleon's armies made their presence known, but later when they +reached the Smolensk road they ran holding the clapper of their bell +tight--and often thinking they were escaping ran right into the +Russians. + +Owing to the rapidity of the French flight and the Russian pursuit +and the consequent exhaustion of the horses, the chief means of +approximately ascertaining the enemy's position--by cavalry +scouting--was not available. Besides, as a result of the frequent +and rapid change of position by each army, even what information was +obtained could not be delivered in time. If news was received one +day that the enemy had been in a certain position the day before, by +the third day when something could have been done, that army was +already two days' march farther on and in quite another position. + +One army fled and the other pursued. Beyond Smolensk there were +several different roads available for the French, and one would have +thought that during their stay of four days they might have learned +where the enemy was, might have arranged some more advantageous plan +and undertaken something new. But after a four days' halt the mob, +with no maneuvers or plans, again began running along the beaten +track, neither to the right nor to the left but along the old--the +worst--road, through Krasnoe and Orsha. + +Expecting the enemy from behind and not in front, the French +separated in their flight and spread out over a distance of +twenty-four hours. In front of them all fled the Emperor, then the +kings, then the dukes. The Russian army, expecting Napoleon to take +the road to the right beyond the Dnieper--which was the only +reasonable thing for him to do--themselves turned to the right and +came out onto the highroad at Krasnoe. And here as in a game of +blindman's buff the French ran into our vanguard. Seeing their enemy +unexpectedly the French fell into confusion and stopped short from the +sudden fright, but then they resumed their flight, abandoning their +comrades who were farther behind. Then for three days separate +portions of the French army--first Murat's (the vice-king's), then +Davout's, and then Ney's--ran, as it were, the gauntlet of the Russian +army. They abandoned one another, abandoned all their heavy baggage, +their artillery, and half their men, and fled, getting past the +Russians by night by making semicircles to the right. + +Ney, who came last, had been busying himself blowing up the walls of +Smolensk which were in nobody's way, because despite the unfortunate +plight of the French or because of it, they wished to punish the floor +against which they had hurt themselves. Ney, who had had a corps of +ten thousand men, reached Napoleon at Orsha with only one thousand men +left, having abandoned all the rest and all his cannon, and having +crossed the Dnieper at night by stealth at a wooded spot. + +From Orsha they fled farther along the road to Vilna, still +playing at blindman's buff with the pursuing army. At the Berezina +they again became disorganized, many were drowned and many +surrendered, but those who got across the river fled farther. Their +supreme chief donned a fur coat and, having seated himself in a +sleigh, galloped on alone, abandoning his companions. The others who +could do so drove away too, leaving those who could not to surrender +or die. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +This campaign consisted in a flight of the French during which +they did all they could to destroy themselves. From the time they +turned onto the Kaluga road to the day their leader fled from the +army, none of the movements of the crowd had any sense. So one might +have thought that regarding this period of the campaign the +historians, who attributed the actions of the mass to the will of +one man, would have found it impossible to make the story of the +retreat fit their theory. But no! Mountains of books have been written +by the historians about this campaign, and everywhere are described +Napoleon's arrangements, the maneuvers, and his profound plans which +guided the army, as well as the military genius shown by his marshals. + +The retreat from Malo-Yaroslavets when he had a free road into a +well-supplied district and the parallel road was open to him along +which Kutuzov afterwards pursued him--this unnecessary retreat along a +devastated road--is explained to us as being due to profound +considerations. Similarly profound considerations are given for his +retreat from Smolensk to Orsha. Then his heroism at Krasnoe is +described, where he is reported to have been prepared to accept battle +and take personal command, and to have walked about with a birch stick +and said: + +"J'ai assez fait l'empereur; il est temps de faire le general,"* but +nevertheless immediately ran away again, abandoning to its fate the +scattered fragments of the army he left behind. + + +*"I have acted the Emperor long enough; it is time to act the +general." + + +Then we are told of the greatness of soul of the marshals, +especially of Ney--a greatness of soul consisting in this: that he +made his way by night around through the forest and across the Dnieper +and escaped to Orsha, abandoning standards, artillery, and nine tenths +of his men. + +And lastly, the final departure of the great Emperor from his heroic +army is presented to us by the historians as something great and +characteristic of genius. Even that final running away, described in +ordinary language as the lowest depth of baseness which every child is +taught to be ashamed of--even that act finds justification in the +historians' language. + +When it is impossible to stretch the very elastic threads of +historical ratiocination any farther, when actions are clearly +contrary to all that humanity calls right or even just, the historians +produce a saving conception of "greatness." "Greatness," it seems, +excludes the standards of right and wrong. For the "great" man nothing +is wrong, there is no atrocity for which a "great" man can be blamed. + +"C'est grand!"* say the historians, and there no longer exists +either good or evil but only "grand" and "not grand." Grand is good, +not grand is bad. Grand is the characteristic, in their conception, of +some special animals called "heroes." And Napoleon, escaping home in a +warm fur coat and leaving to perish those who were not merely his +comrades but were (in his opinion) men he had brought there, feels que +c'est grand,*[2] and his soul is tranquil. + + +*"It is great." + +*[2] That it is great. + + +"Du sublime (he saw something sublime in himself) au ridicule il n'y +a qu'un pas,"* said he. And the whole world for fifty years has been +repeating: "Sublime! Grand! Napoleon le Grand!" Du sublime au ridicule +il n'y a qu'un pas. + + +*"From the sublime to the ridiculous is but a step." + + +And it occurs to no one that to admit a greatness not +commensurable with the standard of right and wrong is merely to +admit one's own nothingness and immeasurable meanness. + +For us with the standard of good and evil given us by Christ, no +human actions are incommensurable. And there is no greatness where +simplicity, goodness, and truth are absent. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +What Russian, reading the account of the last part of the campaign +of 1812, has not experienced an uncomfortable feeling of regret, +dissatisfaction, and perplexity? Who has not asked himself how it is +that the French were not all captured or destroyed when our three +armies surrounded them in superior numbers, when the disordered +French, hungry and freezing, surrendered in crowds, and when (as the +historians relate) the aim of the Russians was to stop the French, +to cut them off, and capture them all? + +How was it that the Russian army, which when numerically weaker than +the French had given battle at Borodino, did not achieve its purpose +when it had surrounded the French on three sides and when its aim +was to capture them? Can the French be so enormously superior to us +that when we had surrounded them with superior forces we could not +beat them? How could that happen? + +History (or what is called by that name) replying to these questions +says that this occurred because Kutuzov and Tormasov and Chichagov, +and this man and that man, did not execute such and such maneuvers... + +But why did they not execute those maneuvers? And why if they were +guilty of not carrying out a prearranged plan were they not tried +and punished? But even if we admitted that Kutuzov, Chichagov, and +others were the cause of the Russian failures, it is still +incomprehensible why, the position of the Russian army being what it +was at Krasnoe and at the Berezina (in both cases we had superior +forces), the French army with its marshals, kings, and Emperor was not +captured, if that was what the Russians aimed at. + +The explanation of this strange fact given by Russian military +historians (to the effect that Kutuzov hindered an attack) is +unfounded, for we know that he could not restrain the troops from +attacking at Vyazma and Tarutino. + +Why was the Russian army--which with inferior forces had withstood +the enemy in full strength at Borodino--defeated at Krasnoe and the +Berezina by the disorganized crowds of the French when it was +numerically superior? + +If the aim of the Russians consisted in cutting off and capturing +Napoleon and his marshals--and that aim was not merely frustrated +but all attempts to attain it were most shamefully baffled--then +this last period of the campaign is quite rightly considered by the +French to be a series of victories, and quite wrongly considered +victorious by Russian historians. + +The Russian military historians in so far as they submit to claims +of logic must admit that conclusion, and in spite of their lyrical +rhapsodies about valor, devotion, and so forth, must reluctantly admit +that the French retreat from Moscow was a series of victories for +Napoleon and defeats for Kutuzov. + +But putting national vanity entirely aside one feels that such a +conclusion involves a contradiction, since the series of French +victories brought the French complete destruction, while the series of +Russian defeats led to the total destruction of their enemy and the +liberation of their country. + +The source of this contradiction lies in the fact that the +historians studying the events from the letters of the sovereigns +and the generals, from memoirs, reports, projects, and so forth, +have attributed to this last period of the war of 1812 an aim that +never existed, namely that of cutting off and capturing Napoleon +with his marshals and his army. + +There never was or could have been such an aim, for it would have +been senseless and its attainment quite impossible. + +It would have been senseless, first because Napoleon's +disorganized army was flying from Russia with all possible speed, that +is to say, was doing just what every Russian desired. So what was +the use of performing various operations on the French who were +running away as fast as they possibly could? + +Secondly, it would have been senseless to block the passage of men +whose whole energy was directed to flight. + +Thirdly, it would have been senseless to sacrifice one's own +troops in order to destroy the French army, which without external +interference was destroying itself at such a rate that, though its +path was not blocked, it could not carry across the frontier more than +it actually did in December, namely a hundredth part of the original +army. + +Fourthly, it would have been senseless to wish to take captive the +Emperor, kings, and dukes--whose capture would have been in the +highest degree embarrassing for the Russians, as the most adroit +diplomatists of the time (Joseph de Maistre and others) recognized. +Still more senseless would have been the wish to capture army corps of +the French, when our own army had melted away to half before +reaching Krasnoe and a whole division would have been needed to convoy +the corps of prisoners, and when our men were not always getting +full rations and the prisoners already taken were perishing of hunger. + +All the profound plans about cutting off and capturing Napoleon +and his army were like the plan of a market gardener who, when driving +out of his garden a cow that had trampled down the beds he had +planted, should run to the gate and hit the cow on the head. The +only thing to be said in excuse of that gardener would be that he +was very angry. But not even that could be said for those who drew +up this project, for it was not they who had suffered from the +trampled beds. + +But besides the fact that cutting off Napoleon with his army would +have been senseless, it was impossible. + +It was impossible first because--as experience shows that a +three-mile movement of columns on a battlefield never coincides with +the plans--the probability of Chichagov, Kutuzov, and Wittgenstein +effecting a junction on time at an appointed place was so remote as to +be tantamount to impossibility, as in fact thought Kutuzov, who when +he received the plan remarked that diversions planned over great +distances do not yield the desired results. + +Secondly it was impossible, because to paralyze the momentum with +which Napoleon's army was retiring, incomparably greater forces than +the Russians possessed would have been required. + +Thirdly it was impossible, because the military term "to cut off" +has no meaning. One can cut off a slice of bread, but not an army. +To cut off an army--to bar its road--is quite impossible, for there is +always plenty of room to avoid capture and there is the night when +nothing can be seen, as the military scientists might convince +themselves by the example of Krasnoe and of the Berezina. It is only +possible to capture prisoners if they agree to be captured, just as it +is only possible to catch a swallow if it settles on one's hand. Men +can only be taken prisoners if they surrender according to the rules +of strategy and tactics, as the Germans did. But the French troops +quite rightly did not consider that this suited them, since death by +hunger and cold awaited them in flight or captivity alike. + +Fourthly and chiefly it was impossible, because never since the +world began has a war been fought under such conditions as those +that obtained in 1812, and the Russian army in its pursuit of the +French strained its strength to the utmost and could not have done +more without destroying itself. + +During the movement of the Russian army from Tarutino to Krasnoe +it lost fifty thousand sick or stragglers, that is a number equal to +the population of a large provincial town. Half the men fell out of +the army without a battle. + +And it is of this period of the campaign--when the army lacked boots +and sheepskin coats, was short of provisions and without vodka, and +was camping out at night for months in the snow with fifteen degrees +of frost, when there were only seven or eight hours of daylight and +the rest was night in which the influence of discipline cannot be +maintained, when men were taken into that region of death where +discipline fails, not for a few hours only as in a battle, but for +months, where they were every moment fighting death from hunger and +cold, when half the army perished in a single month--it is of this +period of the campaign that the historians tell us how Miloradovich +should have made a flank march to such and such a place, Tormasov to +another place, and Chichagov should have crossed (more than +knee-deep in snow) to somewhere else, and how so-and-so "routed" and +"cut off" the French and so on and so on. + +The Russians, half of whom died, did all that could and should +have been done to attain an end worthy of the nation, and they are not +to blame because other Russians, sitting in warm rooms, proposed +that they should do what was impossible. + +All that strange contradiction now difficult to understand between +the facts and the historical accounts only arises because the +historians dealing with the matter have written the history of the +beautiful words and sentiments of various generals, and not the +history of the events. + +To them the words of Miloradovich seem very interesting, and so do +their surmises and the rewards this or that general received; but +the question of those fifty thousand men who were left in hospitals +and in graves does not even interest them, for it does not come within +the range of their investigation. + +Yet one need only discard the study of the reports and general plans +and consider the movement of those hundreds of thousands of men who +took a direct part in the events, and all the questions that seemed +insoluble easily and simply receive an immediate and certain solution. + +The aim of cutting off Napoleon and his army never existed except in +the imaginations of a dozen people. It could not exist because it +was senseless and unattainable. + +The people had a single aim: to free their land from invasion. +That aim was attained in the first place of itself, as the French +ran away, and so it was only necessary not to stop their flight. +Secondly it was attained by the guerrilla warfare which was destroying +the French, and thirdly by the fact that a large Russian army was +following the French, ready to use its strength in case their movement +stopped. + +The Russian army had to act like a whip to a running animal. And the +experienced driver knew it was better to hold the whip raised as a +menace than to strike the running animal on the head. + + + + + +BOOK FIFTEEN: 1812 --13 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +When seeing a dying animal a man feels a sense of horror: +substance similar to his own is perishing before his eyes. But when it +is a beloved and intimate human being that is dying, besides this +horror at the extinction of life there is a severance, a spiritual +wound, which like a physical wound is sometimes fatal and sometimes +heals, but always aches and shrinks at any external irritating touch. + +After Prince Andrew's death Natasha and Princess Mary alike felt +this. Drooping in spirit and closing their eyes before the menacing +cloud of death that overhung them, they dared not look life in the +face. They carefully guarded their open wounds from any rough and +painful contact. Everything: a carriage passing rapidly in the street, +a summons to dinner, the maid's inquiry what dress to prepare, or +worse still any word of insincere or feeble sympathy, seemed an +insult, painfully irritated the wound, interrupting that necessary +quiet in which they both tried to listen to the stern and dreadful +choir that still resounded in their imagination, and hindered their +gazing into those mysterious limitless vistas that for an instant +had opened out before them. + +Only when alone together were they free from such outrage and +pain. They spoke little even to one another, and when they did it +was of very unimportant matters. + +Both avoided any allusion to the future. To admit the possibility of +a future seemed to them to insult his memory. Still more carefully did +they avoid anything relating to him who was dead. It seemed to them +that what they had lived through and experienced could not be +expressed in words, and that any reference to the details of his +life infringed the majesty and sacredness of the mystery that had been +accomplished before their eyes. + +Continued abstention from speech, and constant avoidance of +everything that might lead up to the subject--this halting on all +sides at the boundary of what they might not mention--brought before +their minds with still greater purity and clearness what they were +both feeling. + +But pure and complete sorrow is as impossible as pure and complete +joy. Princess Mary, in her position as absolute and independent +arbiter of her own fate and guardian and instructor of her nephew, was +the first to be called back to life from that realm of sorrow in which +she had dwelt for the first fortnight. She received letters from her +relations to which she had to reply; the room in which little Nicholas +had been put was damp and he began to cough; Alpatych came to +Yaroslavl with reports on the state of their affairs and with advice +and suggestions that they should return to Moscow to the house on +the Vozdvizhenka Street, which had remained uninjured and needed +only slight repairs. Life did not stand still and it was necessary +to live. Hard as it was for Princess Mary to emerge from the realm +of secluded contemplation in which she had lived till then, and +sorry and almost ashamed as she felt to leave Natasha alone, yet the +cares of life demanded her attention and she involuntarily yielded +to them. She went through the accounts with Alpatych, conferred with +Dessalles about her nephew, and gave orders and made preparations +for the journey to Moscow. + +Natasha remained alone and, from the time Princess Mary began making +preparations for departure, held aloof from her too. + +Princess Mary asked the countess to let Natasha go with her to +Moscow, and both parents gladly accepted this offer, for they saw +their daughter losing strength every day and thought that a change +of scene and the advice of Moscow doctors would be good for her. + +"I am not going anywhere," Natasha replied when this was proposed to +her. "Do please just leave me alone!" And she ran out of the room, +with difficulty refraining from tears of vexation and irritation +rather than of sorrow. + +After she felt herself deserted by Princes Mary and alone in her +grief, Natasha spent most of the time in her room by herself, +sitting huddled up feet and all in the corner of the sofa, tearing and +twisting something with her slender nervous fingers and gazing +intently and fixedly at whatever her eyes chanced to fall on. This +solitude exhausted and tormented her but she was in absolute need of +it. As soon as anyone entered she got up quickly, changed her position +and expression, and picked up a book or some sewing, evidently waiting +impatiently for the intruder to go. + +She felt all the time as if she might at any moment penetrate that +on which--with a terrible questioning too great for her strength- +her spiritual gaze was fixed. + +One day toward the end of December Natasha, pale and thin, dressed +in a black woolen gown, her plaited hair negligently twisted into a +knot, was crouched feet and all in the corner of her sofa, nervously +crumpling and smoothing out the end of her sash while she looked at +a corner of the door. + +She was gazing in the direction in which he had gone--to the other +side of life. And that other side of life, of which she had never +before thought and which had formerly seemed to her so far away and +improbable, was now nearer and more akin and more comprehensible +than this side of life, where everything was either emptiness and +desolation or suffering and indignity. + +She was gazing where she knew him to be; but she could not imagine +him otherwise than as he had been here. She now saw him again as he +had been at Mytishchi, at Troitsa, and at Yaroslavl. + +She saw his face, heard his voice, repeated his words and her own, +and sometimes devised other words they might have spoken. + +There he is lying back in an armchair in his velvet cloak, leaning +his head on his thin pale hand. His chest is dreadfully hollow and his +shoulders raised. His lips are firmly closed, his eyes glitter, and +a wrinkle comes and goes on his pale forehead. One of his legs +twitches just perceptibly, but rapidly. Natasha knows that he is +struggling with terrible pain. "What is that pain like? Why does he +have that pain? What does he feel? How does it hurt him?" thought +Natasha. He noticed her watching him, raised his eyes, and began to +speak seriously: + +"One thing would be terrible," said he: "to bind oneself forever +to a suffering man. It would be continual torture." And he looked +searchingly at her. Natasha as usual answered before she had time to +think what she would say. She said: "This can't go on--it won't. You +will get well--quite well." + +She now saw him from the commencement of that scene and relived what +she had then felt. She recalled his long sad and severe look at +those words and understood the meaning of the rebuke and despair in +that protracted gaze. + +"I agreed," Natasha now said to herself, "that it would be +dreadful if he always continued to suffer. I said it then only because +it would have been dreadful for him, but he understood it differently. +He thought it would be dreadful for me. He then still wished to live +and feared death. And I said it so awkwardly and stupidly! I did not +say what I meant. I thought quite differently. Had I said what I +thought, I should have said: even if he had to go on dying, to die +continually before my eyes, I should have been happy compared with +what I am now. Now there is nothing... nobody. Did he know that? No, +he did not and never will know it. And now it will never, never be +possible to put it right." And now he again seemed to be saying the +same words to her, only in her imagination Natasha this time gave +him a different answer. She stopped him and said: "Terrible for you, +but not for me! You know that for me there is nothing in life but you, +and to suffer with you is the greatest happiness for me," and he +took her hand and pressed it as he had pressed it that terrible +evening four days before his death. And in her imagination she said +other tender and loving words which she might have said then but +only spoke now: "I love thee!... thee! I love, love..." she said, +convulsively pressing her hands and setting her teeth with a desperate +effort... + +She was overcome by sweet sorrow and tears were already rising in +her eyes; then she suddenly asked herself to whom she was saying this. +Again everything was shrouded in hard, dry perplexity, and again +with a strained frown she peered toward the world where he was. And +now, now it seemed to her she was penetrating the mystery.... But at +the instant when it seemed that the incomprehensible was revealing +itself to her a loud rattle of the door handle struck painfully on her +ears. Dunyasha, her maid, entered the room quickly and abruptly with a +frightened look on her face and showing no concern for her mistress. + +"Come to your Papa at once, please!" said she with a strange, +excited look. "A misfortune... about Peter Ilynich... a letter," she +finished with a sob. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Besides a feeling of aloofness from everybody Natasha was feeling +a special estrangement from the members of her own family. All of +them--her father, mother, and Sonya--were so near to her, so familiar, +so commonplace, that all their words and feelings seemed an insult +to the world in which she had been living of late, and she felt not +merely indifferent to them but regarded them with hostility. She heard +Dunyasha's words about Peter Ilynich and a misfortune, but did not +grasp them. + +"What misfortune? What misfortune can happen to them? They just live +their own old, quiet, and commonplace life," thought Natasha. + +As she entered the ballroom her father was hurriedly coming out of +her mother's room. His face was puckered up and wet with tears. He had +evidently run out of that room to give vent to the sobs that were +choking him. When he saw Natasha he waved his arms despairingly and +burst into convulsively painful sobs that distorted his soft round +face. + +"Pe... Petya... Go, go, she... is calling..." and weeping like a +child and quickly shuffling on his feeble legs to a chair, he almost +fell into it, covering his face with his hands. + +Suddenly an electric shock seemed to run through Natasha's whole +being. Terrible anguish struck her heart, she felt a dreadful ache +as if something was being torn inside her and she were dying. But +the pain was immediately followed by a feeling of release from the +oppressive constraint that had prevented her taking part in life. +The sight of her father, the terribly wild cries of her mother that +she heard through the door, made her immediately forget herself and +her own grief. + +She ran to her father, but he feebly waved his arm, pointing to +her mother's door. Princess Mary, pale and with quivering chin, came +out from that room and taking Natasha by the arm said something to +her. Natasha neither saw nor heard her. She went in with rapid +steps, pausing at the door for an instant as if struggling with +herself, and then ran to her mother. + +The countess was lying in an armchair in a strange and awkward +position, stretching out and beating her head against the wall. +Sonya and the maids were holding her arms. + +"Natasha! Natasha!..." cried the countess. "It's not true... it's +not true... He's lying... Natasha!" she shrieked, pushing those around +her away. "Go away, all of you; it's not true! Killed!... ha, ha, +ha!... It's not true!" + +Natasha put one knee on the armchair, stooped over her mother, +embraced her, and with unexpected strength raised her, turned her face +toward herself, and clung to her. + +"Mummy!... darling!... I am here, my dearest Mummy," she kept on +whispering, not pausing an instant. + +She did not let go of her mother but struggled tenderly with her, +demanded a pillow and hot water, and unfastened and tore open her +mother's dress. + +"My dearest darling... Mummy, my precious!..." she whispered +incessantly, kissing her head, her hands, her face, and feeling her +own irrepressible and streaming tears tickling her nose and cheeks. + +The countess pressed her daughter's hand, closed her eyes, and +became quiet for a moment. Suddenly she sat up with unaccustomed +swiftness, glanced vacantly around her, and seeing Natasha began to +press her daughter's head with all her strength. Then she turned +toward her daughter's face which was wincing with pain and gazed +long at it. + +"Natasha, you love me?" she said in a soft trustful whisper. +"Natasha, you would not deceive me? You'll tell me the whole truth?" + +Natasha looked at her with eyes full of tears and in her look +there was nothing but love and an entreaty for forgiveness. + +"My darling Mummy!" she repeated, straining all the power of her +love to find some way of taking on herself the excess of grief that +crushed her mother. + +And again in a futile struggle with reality her mother, refusing +to believe that she could live when her beloved boy was killed in +the bloom of life, escaped from reality into a world of delirium. + +Natasha did not remember how that day passed nor that night, nor the +next day and night. She did not sleep and did not leave her mother. +Her persevering and patient love seemed completely to surround the +countess every moment, not explaining or consoling, but recalling +her to life. + +During the third night the countess kept very quiet for a few +minutes, and Natasha rested her head on the arm of her chair and +closed her eyes, but opened them again on hearing the bedstead +creak. The countess was sitting up in bed and speaking softly. + +"How glad I am you have come. You are tired. Won't you have some +tea?" Natasha went up to her. "You have improved in looks and grown +more manly," continued the countess, taking her daughter's hand. + +"Mamma! What are you saying..." + +"Natasha, he is no more, no more!" + +And embracing her daughter, the countess began to weep for the first +time. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Princess Mary postponed her departure. Sonya and the count tried +to replace Natasha but could not. They saw that she alone was able +to restrain her mother from unreasoning despair. For three weeks +Natasha remained constantly at her mother's side, sleeping on a lounge +chair in her room, making her eat and drink, and talking to her +incessantly because the mere sound of her tender, caressing tones +soothed her mother. + +The mother's wounded spirit could not heal. Petya's +death had torn from her half her life. When the news of Petya's +death had come she had been a fresh and vigorous woman of fifty, but a +month later she left her room a listless old woman taking no +interest in life. But the same blow that almost killed the countess, +this second blow, restored Natasha to life. + +A spiritual wound produced by a rending of the spiritual body is +like a physical wound and, strange as it may seem, just as a deep +wound may heal and its edges join, physical and spiritual wounds alike +can yet heal completely only as the result of a vital force from +within. + +Natasha's wound healed in that way. She thought her life was +ended, but her love for her mother unexpectedly showed her that the +essence of life--love--was still active within her. Love awoke and +so did life. + +Prince Andrew's last days had bound Princess Mary and Natasha +together; this new sorrow brought them still closer to one another. +Princess Mary put off her departure, and for three weeks looked +after Natasha as if she had been a sick child. The last weeks passed +in her mother's bedroom had strained Natasha's physical strength. + +One afternoon noticing Natasha shivering with fever, Princess Mary +took her to her own room and made her lie down on the bed. Natasha lay +down, but when Princess Mary had drawn the blinds and was going away +she called her back. + +"I don't want to sleep, Mary, sit by me a little." + +"You are tired--try to sleep." + +"No, no. Why did you bring me away? She will be asking for me." + +"She is much better. She spoke so well today," said Princess Mary. + +Natasha lay on the bed and in the semidarkness of the room scanned +Princess Mary's face. + +"Is she like him?" thought Natasha. "Yes, like and yet not like. But +she is quite original, strange, new, and unknown. And she loves me. +What is in her heart? All that is good. But how? What is her mind +like? What does she think about me? Yes, she is splendid!" + +"Mary," she said timidly, drawing Princess Mary's hand to herself, +"Mary, you mustn't think me wicked. No? Mary darling, how I love +you! Let us be quite, quite friends." + +And Natasha, embracing her, began kissing her face and hands, making +Princess Mary feel shy but happy by this demonstration of her +feelings. + +From that day a tender and passionate friendship such as exists only +between women was established between Princess Mary and Natasha. +They were continually kissing and saying tender things to one +another and spent most of their time together. When one went out the +other became restless and hastened to rejoin her. Together they felt +more in harmony with one another than either of them felt with herself +when alone. A feeling stronger than friendship sprang up between them; +an exclusive feeling of life being possible only in each other's +presence. + +Sometimes they were silent for hours; sometimes after they were +already in bed they would begin talking and go on till morning. They +spoke most of what was long past. Princess Mary spoke of her +childhood, of her mother, her father, and her daydreams; and +Natasha, who with a passive lack of understanding had formerly +turned away from that life of devotion, submission, and the poetry +of Christian self-sacrifice, now feeling herself bound to Princess +Mary by affection, learned to love her past too and to understand a +side of life previously incomprehensible to her. She did not think +of applying submission and self-abnegation to her own life, for she +was accustomed to seek other joys, but she understood and loved in +another those previously incomprehensible virtues. For Princess +Mary, listening to Natasha's tales of childhood and early youth, there +also opened out a new and hitherto uncomprehended side of life: belief +in life and its enjoyment. + +Just as before, they never mentioned him so as not to lower (as they +thought) their exalted feelings by words; but this silence about him +had the effect of making them gradually begin to forget him without +being conscious of it. + +Natasha had grown thin and pale and physically so weak that they all +talked about her health, and this pleased her. But sometimes she was +suddenly overcome by fear not only of death but of sickness, weakness, +and loss of good looks, and involuntarily she examined her bare arm +carefully, surprised at its thinness, and in the morning noticed her +drawn and, as it seemed to her, piteous face in her glass. It seemed +to her that things must be so, and yet it was dreadfully sad. + +One day she went quickly upstairs and found herself out of breath. +Unconsciously she immediately invented a reason for going down, and +then, testing her strength, ran upstairs again, observing the result. + +Another time when she called Dunyasha her voice trembled, so she +called again--though she could hear Dunyasha coming--called her in the +deep chest tones in which she had been wont to sing, sing, and +listened attentively to herself. + +She did not know and would not have believed it, but beneath the +layer of slime that covered her soul and seemed to her impenetrable, +delicate young shoots of grass were already sprouting, which taking +root would so cover with their living verdure the grief that weighed +her down that it would soon no longer be seen or noticed. The wound +had begun to heal from within. + +At the end of January Princess Mary left for Moscow, and the count +insisted on Natasha's going with her to consult the doctors. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +After the encounter at Vyazma, where Kutuzov had been unable to hold +back his troops in their anxiety to overwhelm and cut off the enemy +and so on, the farther movement of the fleeing French, and of the +Russians who pursued them, continued as far as Krasnoe without a +battle. The flight was so rapid that the Russian army pursuing the +French could not keep up with them; cavalry and artillery horses broke +down, and the information received of the movements of the French +was never reliable. + +The men in the Russian army were so worn out by this continuous +marching at the rate of twenty-seven miles a day that they could not +go any faster. + +To realize the degree of exhaustion of the Russian army it is only +necessary to grasp clearly the meaning of the fact that, while not +losing more than five thousand killed and wounded after Tarutino and +less than a hundred prisoners, the Russian army which left that +place a hundred thousand strong reached Krasnoe with only fifty +thousand. + +The rapidity of the Russian pursuit was just as destructive to our +army as the flight of the French was to theirs. The only difference +was that the Russian army moved voluntarily, with no such threat of +destruction as hung over the French, and that the sick Frenchmen +were left behind in enemy hands while the sick Russians left behind +were among their own people. The chief cause of the wastage of +Napoleon's army was the rapidity of its movement, and a convincing +proof of this is the corresponding decrease of the Russian army. + +Kutuzov as far as was in his power, instead of trying to check the +movement of the French as was desired in Petersburg and by the Russian +army generals, directed his whole activity here, as he had done at +Tarutino and Vyazma, to hastening it on while easing the movement of +our army. + +But besides this, since the exhaustion and enormous diminution of +the army caused by the rapidity of the advance had become evident, +another reason for slackening the pace and delaying presented itself +to Kutuzov. The aim of the Russian army was to pursue the French. +The road the French would take was unknown, and so the closer our +troops trod on their heels the greater distance they had to cover. +Only by following at some distance could one cut across the zigzag +path of the French. All the artful maneuvers suggested by our generals +meant fresh movements of the army and a lengthening of its marches, +whereas the only reasonable aim was to shorten those marches. To +that end Kutuzov's activity was directed during the whole campaign +from Moscow to Vilna--not casually or intermittently but so +consistently that he never once deviated from it. + +Kutuzov felt and knew--not by reasoning or science but with the +whole of his Russian being--what every Russian soldier felt: that +the French were beaten, that the enemy was flying and must be driven +out; but at the same time he like the soldiers realized all the +hardship of this march, the rapidity of which was unparalleled for +such a time of the year. + +But to the generals, especially the foreign ones in the Russian +army, who wished to distinguish themselves, to astonish somebody, +and for some reason to capture a king or a duke--it seemed that now- +when any battle must be horrible and senseless--was the very time to +fight and conquer somebody. Kutuzov merely shrugged his shoulders when +one after another they presented projects of maneuvers to be made with +those soldiers--ill-shod, insufficiently clad, and half starved--who +within a month and without fighting a battle had dwindled to half +their number, and who at the best if the flight continued would have +to go a greater distance than they had already traversed, before +they reached the frontier. + +This longing to distinguish themselves, to maneuver, to overthrow, +and to cut off showed itself particularly whenever the Russians +stumbled on the French army. + +So it was at Krasnoe, where they expected to find one of the three +French columns and stumbled instead on Napoleon himself with sixteen +thousand men. Despite all Kutuzov's efforts to avoid that ruinous +encounter and to preserve his troops, the massacre of the broken mob +of French soldiers by worn-out Russians continued at Krasnoe for three +days. + +Toll wrote a disposition: "The first column will march to so and +so," etc. And as usual nothing happened in accord with the +disposition. Prince Eugene of Wurttemberg fired from a hill over the +French crowds that were running past, and demanded reinforcements +which did not arrive. The French, avoiding the Russians, dispersed and +hid themselves in the forest by night, making their way round as +best they could, and continued their flight. + +Miloradovich, who said he did not want to know anything about the +commissariat affairs of his detachment, and could never be found +when he was wanted--that chevalier sans peur et sans reproche* as he +styled himself--who was fond of parleys with the French, sent envoys +demanding their surrender, wasted time, and did not do what he was +ordered to do. + + +*Knight without fear and without reproach. + + +"I give you that column, lads," he said, riding up to the troops and +pointing out the French to the cavalry. + +And the cavalry, with spurs and sabers urging on horses that could +scarcely move, trotted with much effort to the column presented to +them--that is to say, to a crowd of Frenchmen stark with cold, +frost-bitten, and starving--and the column that had been presented +to them threw down its arms and surrendered as it had long been +anxious to do. + +At Krasnoe they took twenty-six thousand prisoners, several +hundred cannon, and a stick called a "marshal's staff," and disputed +as to who had distinguished himself and were pleased with their +achievement--though they much regretted not having taken Napoleon, +or at least a marshal or a hero of some sort, and reproached one +another and especially Kutuzov for having failed to do so. + +These men, carried away by their passions, were but blind tools of +the most melancholy law of necessity, but considered themselves heroes +and imagined that they were accomplishing a most noble and honorable +deed. They blamed Kutuzov and said that from the very beginning of the +campaign he had prevented their vanquishing Napoleon, that he +thought nothing but satisfying his passions and would not advance from +the Linen Factories because he was comfortable there, that at +Krasnoe he checked the advance because on learning that Napoleon was +there he had quite lost his head, and that it was probable that he had +an understanding with Napoleon and had been bribed by him, and so +on, and so on. + +Not only did his contemporaries, carried away by their passions, +talk in this way, but posterity and history have acclaimed Napoleon as +grand, while Kutuzov is described by foreigners as a crafty, +dissolute, weak old courtier, and by Russians as something indefinite- +a sort of puppet useful only because he had a Russian name. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +In 1812 and 1813 Kutuzov was openly accused of blundering. The +Emperor was dissatisfied with him. And in a history recently written +by order of the Highest Authorities it is said that Kutuzov was a +cunning court liar, frightened of the name of Napoleon, and that by +his blunders at Krasnoe and the Berezina he deprived the Russian +army of the glory of complete victory over the French.* + + +*History of the year 1812. The character of Kutuzov and +reflections on the unsatisfactory results of the battles at Krasnoe, +by Bogdanovich. + + +Such is the fate not of great men (grands hommes) whom the Russian +mind does not acknowledge, but of those rare and always solitary +individuals who, discerning the will of Providence, submit their +personal will to it. The hatred and contempt of the crowd punish +such men for discerning the higher laws. + +For Russian historians, strange and terrible to say, Napoleon- +that most insignificant tool of history who never anywhere, even in +exile, showed human dignity--Napoleon is the object of adulation and +enthusiasm; he is grand. But Kutuzov--the man who from the beginning +to the end of his activity in 1812, never once swerving by word or +deed from Borodino to Vilna, presented an example exceptional in +history of self-sacrifice and a present consciousness of the future +importance of what was happening--Kutuzov seems to them something +indefinite and pitiful, and when speaking of him and of the year +1812 they always seem a little ashamed. + +And yet it is difficult to imagine an historical character whose +activity was so unswervingly directed to a single aim; and it would be +difficult to imagine any aim more worthy or more consonant with the +will of the whole people. Still more difficult would it be to find +an instance in history of the aim of an historical personage being +so completely accomplished as that to which all Kutuzov's efforts were +directed in 1812. + +Kutuzov never talked of "forty centuries looking down from the +Pyramids," of the sacrifices he offered for the fatherland, or of what +he intended to accomplish or had accomplished; in general he said +nothing about himself, adopted no prose, always appeared to be the +simplest and most ordinary of men, and said the simplest and most +ordinary things. He wrote letters to his daughters and to Madame de +Stael, read novels, liked the society of pretty women, jested with +generals, officers, and soldiers, and never contradicted those who +tried to prove anything to him. When Count Rostopchin at the Yauza +bridge galloped up to Kutuzov with personal reproaches for having +caused the destruction of Moscow, and said: "How was it you promised +not to abandon Moscow without a battle?" Kutuzov replied: "And I shall +not abandon Moscow without a battle," though Moscow was then already +abandoned. When Arakcheev, coming to him from the Emperor, said that +Ermolov ought to be appointed chief of the artillery, Kutuzov replied: +"Yes, I was just saying so myself," though a moment before he had said +quite the contrary. What did it matter to him--who then alone amid a +senseless crowd understood the whole tremendous significance of what +was happening--what did it matter to him whether Rostopchin attributed +the calamities of Moscow to him or to himself? Still less could it +matter to him who was appointed chief of the artillery. + +Not merely in these cases but continually did that old man--who by +experience of life had reached the conviction that thoughts and the +words serving as their expression are not what move people--use +quite meaningless words that happened to enter his head. + +But that man, so heedless of his words, did not once during the +whole time of his activity utter one word inconsistent with the single +aim toward which he moved throughout the whole war. Obviously in spite +of himself, in very diverse circumstances, he repeatedly expressed his +real thoughts with the bitter conviction that he would not be +understood. Beginning with the battle of Borodino, from which time his +disagreement with those about him began, he alone said that the battle +of Borodino was a victory, and repeated this both verbally and in +his dispatches and reports up to the time of his death. He alone +said that the loss of Moscow is not the loss of Russia. In reply to +Lauriston's proposal of peace, he said: There can be no peace, for +such is the people's will. He alone during the retreat of the French +said that all our maneuvers are useless, everything is being +accomplished of itself better than we could desire; that the enemy +must be offered "a golden bridge"; that neither the Tarutino, the +Vyazma, nor the Krasnoe battles were necessary; that we must keep some +force to reach the frontier with, and that he would not sacrifice a +single Russian for ten Frenchmen. + +And this courtier, as he is described to us, who lies to Arakcheev +to please the Emperor, he alone--incurring thereby the Emperor's +displeasure--said in Vilna that to carry the war beyond the frontier +is useless and harmful. + +Nor do words alone prove that only he understood the meaning of +the events. His actions--without the smallest deviation--were all +directed to one and the same threefold end: (1) to brace all his +strength for conflict with the French, (2) to defeat them, and (3) +to drive them out of Russia, minimizing as far as possible the +sufferings of our people and of our army. + +This procrastinator Kutuzov, whose motto was "Patience and Time," +this enemy of decisive action, gave battle at Borodino, investing +the preparations for it with unparalleled solemnity. This Kutuzov +who before the battle of Austerlitz began said that it would be +lost, he alone, in contradiction to everyone else, declared till his +death that Borodino was a victory, despite the assurance of generals +that the battle was lost and despite the fact that for an army to have +to retire after winning a battle was unprecedented. He alone during +the whole retreat insisted that battles, which were useless then, +should not be fought, and that a new war should not be begun nor the +frontiers of Russia crossed. + +It is easy now to understand the significance of these events--if +only we abstain from attributing to the activity of the mass aims that +existed only in the heads of a dozen individuals--for the events and +results now lie before us. + +But how did that old man, alone, in opposition to the general +opinion, so truly discern the importance of the people's view of the +events that in all his activity he was never once untrue to it? + +The source of that extraordinary power of penetrating the meaning of +the events then occuring lay in the national feeling which he +possessed in full purity and strength. + +Only the recognition of the fact that he possessed this feeling +caused the people in so strange a manner, contrary to the Tsar's wish, +to select him--an old man in disfavor--to be their representative in +the national war. And only that feeling placed him on that highest +human pedestal from which he, the commander in chief, devoted all +his powers not to slaying and destroying men but to saving and showing +pity on them. + +That simple, modest, and therefore truly great, figure could not +be cast in the false mold of a European hero--the supposed ruler of +men--that history has invented. + +To a lackey no man can be great, for a lackey has his own conception +of greatness. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The fifth of November was the first day of what is called the battle +of Krasnoe. Toward evening--after much disputing and many mistakes +made by generals who did not go to their proper places, and after +adjutants had been sent about with counterorders--when it had become +plain that the enemy was everywhere in flight and that there could and +would be no battle, Kutuzov left Krasnoe and went to Dobroe whither +his headquarters had that day been transferred. + +The day was clear and frosty. Kutuzov rode to Dobroe on his plump +little white horse, followed by an enormous suite of discontented +generals who whispered among themselves behind his back. All along the +road groups of French prisoners captured that day (there were seven +thousand of them) were crowding to warm themselves at campfires. +Near Dobroe an immense crowd of tattered prisoners, buzzing with +talk and wrapped and bandaged in anything they had been able to get +hold of, were standing in the road beside a long row of unharnessed +French guns. At the approach of the commander in chief the buzz of +talk ceased and all eyes were fixed on Kutuzov who, wearing a white +cap with a red band and a padded overcoat that bulged on his round +shoulders, moved slowly along the road on his white horse. One of +the generals was reporting to him where the guns and prisoners had +been captured. + +Kutuzov seemed preoccupied and did not listen to what the general +was saying. He screwed up his eyes with a dissatisfied look as he +gazed attentively and fixedly at these prisoners, who presented a +specially wretched appearance. Most of them were disfigured by +frost-bitten noses and cheeks, and nearly all had red, swollen and +festering eyes. + +One group of the French stood close to the road, and two of them, +one of whom had his face covered with sores, were tearing a piece of +raw flesh with their hands. There was something horrible and bestial +in the fleeting glance they threw at the riders and in the +malevolent expression with which, after a glance at Kutuzov, the +soldier with the sores immediately turned away and went on with what +he was doing. + +Kutuzov looked long and intently at these two soldiers. He +puckered his face, screwed up his eyes, and pensively swayed his head. +At another spot he noticed a Russian soldier laughingly patting a +Frenchman on the shoulder, saying something to him in a friendly +manner, and Kutuzov with the same expression on his face again +swayed his head. + +"What were you saying?" he asked the general, who continuing his +report directed the commander in chief's attention to some standards +captured from the French and standing in front of the Preobrazhensk +regiment. + +"Ah, the standards!" said Kutuzov, evidently detaching himself +with difficulty from the thoughts that preoccupied him. + +He looked about him absently. Thousands of eyes were looking at +him from all sides awaiting a word from him. + +He stopped in front of the Preobrazhensk regiment, sighed deeply, +and closed his eyes. One of his suite beckoned to the soldiers +carrying the standards to advance and surround the commander in +chief with them. Kutuzov was silent for a few seconds and then, +submitting with evident reluctance to the duty imposed by his +position, raised his head and began to speak. A throng of officers +surrounded him. He looked attentively around at the circle of +officers, recognizing several of them. + +"I thank you all!" he said, addressing the soldiers and then again +the officers. In the stillness around him his slowly uttered words +were distinctly heard. "I thank you all for your hard and faithful +service. The victory is complete and Russia will not forget you! Honor +to you forever." + +He paused and looked around. + +"Lower its head, lower it!" he said to a soldier who had +accidentally lowered the French eagle he was holding before the +Preobrazhensk standards. "Lower, lower, that's it. Hurrah lads!" he +added, addressing the men with a rapid movement of his chin. + +"Hur-r-rah!" roared thousands of voices. + +While the soldiers were shouting Kutuzov leaned forward in his +saddle and bowed his head, and his eye lit up with a mild and +apparently ironic gleam. + +"You see, brothers..." said he when the shouts had ceased... and all +at once his voice and the expression of his face changed. It was no +longer the commander in chief speaking but an ordinary old man who +wanted to tell his comrades something very important. + +There was a stir among the throng of officers and in the ranks of +the soldiers, who moved that they might hear better what he was +going to say. + +"You see, brothers, I know it's hard for you, but it can't be +helped! Bear up; it won't be for long now! We'll see our visitors +off and then we'll rest. The Tsar won't forget your service. It is +hard for you, but still you are at home while they--you see what +they have come to," said he, pointing to the prisoners. "Worse off +than our poorest beggars. While they were strong we didn't spare +ourselves, but now we may even pity them. They are human beings too. +Isn't it so, lads?" + +He looked around, and in the direct, respectful, wondering gaze +fixed upon him he read sympathy with what he had said. His face grew +brighter and brighter with an old man's mild smile, which drew the +corners of his lips and eyes into a cluster of wrinkles. He ceased +speaking and bowed his head as if in perplexity. + +"But after all who asked them here? Serves them right, the bloody +bastards!" he cried, suddenly lifting his head. + +And flourishing his whip he rode off at a gallop for the first +time during the whole campaign, and left the broken ranks of the +soldiers laughing joyfully and shouting "Hurrah!" + +Kutuzov's words were hardly understood by the troops. No one could +have repeated the field marshal's address, begun solemnly and then +changing into an old man's simplehearted talk; but the hearty +sincerity of that speech, the feeling of majestic triumph combined +with pity for the foe and consciousness of the justice of our cause, +exactly expressed by that old man's good-natured expletives, was not +merely understood but lay in the soul of every soldier and found +expression in their joyous and long-sustained shouts. Afterwards +when one of the generals addressed Kutuzov asking whether he wished +his caleche to be sent for, Kutuzov in answering unexpectedly gave a +sob, being evidently greatly moved. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +When the troops reached their night's halting place on the eighth of +November, the last day of the Krasnoe battles, it was already +growing dusk. All day it had been calm and frosty with occasional +lightly falling snow and toward evening it began to clear. Through the +falling snow a purple-black and starry sky showed itself and the frost +grew keener. + +An infantry regiment which had left Tarutino three thousand strong +but now numbered only nine hundred was one of the first to arrive that +night at its halting place--a village on the highroad. The +quartermasters who met the regiment announced that all the huts were +full of sick and dead Frenchmen, cavalrymen, and members of the staff. +There was only one hut available for the regimental commander. + +The commander rode up to his hut. The regiment passed through the +village and stacked its arms in front of the last huts. + +Like some huge many-limbed animal, the regiment began to prepare its +lair and its food. One part of it dispersed and waded knee-deep +through the snow into a birch forest to the right of the village, +and immediately the sound of axes and swords, the crashing of +branches, and merry voices could be heard from there. Another +section amid the regimental wagons and horses which were standing in a +group was busy getting out caldrons and rye biscuit, and feeding the +horses. A third section scattered through the village arranging +quarters for the staff officers, carrying out the French corpses +that were in the huts, and dragging away boards, dry wood, and +thatch from the roofs, for the campfires, or wattle fences to serve +for shelter. + +Some fifteen men with merry shouts were shaking down the high wattle +wall of a shed, the roof of which had already been removed. + +"Now then, all together--shove!" cried the voices, and the huge +surface of the wall, sprinkled with snow and creaking with frost, +was seen swaying in the gloom of the night. The lower stakes cracked +more and more and at last the wall fell, and with it the men who had +been pushing it. Loud, coarse laughter and joyous shouts ensued. + +"Now then, catch hold in twos! Hand up the lever! That's it... Where +are you shoving to?" + +"Now, all together! But wait a moment, boys... With a song!" + +All stood silent, and a soft, pleasant velvety voice began to +sing. At the end of the third verse as the last note died away, twenty +voices roared out at once: "Oo-oo-oo-oo! That's it. All together! +Heave away, boys!..." but despite their united efforts the wattle +hardly moved, and in the silence that followed the heavy breathing +of the men was audible. + +"Here, you of the Sixth Company! Devils that you are! Lend a hand... +will you? You may want us one of these days." + +Some twenty men of the Sixth Company who were on their way into +the village joined the haulers, and the wattle wall, which was about +thirty-five feet long and seven feet high, moved forward along the +village street, swaying, pressing upon and cutting the shoulders of +the gasping men. + +"Get along... Falling? What are you stopping for? There now..." + +Merry senseless words of abuse flowed freely. + +"What are you up to?" suddenly came the authoritative voice of a +sergeant major who came upon the men who were hauling their burden. +"There are gentry here; the general himself is in that hut, and you +foul-mouthed devils, you brutes, I'll give it to you!" shouted he, +hitting the first man who came in his way a swinging blow on the back. +"Can't you make less noise?" + +The men became silent. The soldier who had been struck groaned and +wiped his face, which had been scratched till it bled by his falling +against the wattle. + +"There, how that devil hits out! He's made my face all bloody," said +he in a frightened whisper when the sergeant major had passed on. + +"Don't you like it?" said a laughing voice, and moderating their +tones the men moved forward. + +When they were out of the village they began talking again as loud +as before, interlarding their talk with the same aimless expletives. + +In the hut which the men had passed, the chief officers had gathered +and were in animated talk over their tea about the events of the day +and the maneuvers suggested for tomorrow. It was proposed to make a +flank march to the left, cut off the Vice-King (Murat) and capture +him. + +By the time the soldiers had dragged the wattle fence to its place +the campfires were blazing on all sides ready for cooking, the wood +crackled, the snow was melting, and black shadows of soldiers +flitted to and fro all over the occupied space where the snow had been +trodden down. + +Axes and choppers were plied all around. Everything was done without +any orders being given. Stores of wood were brought for the night, +shelters were rigged up for the officers, caldrons were being +boiled, and muskets and accouterments put in order. + +The wattle wall the men had brought was set up in a semicircle by +the Eighth Company as a shelter from the north, propped up by musket +rests, and a campfire was built before it. They beat the tattoo, +called the roll, had supper, and settled down round the fires for +the night--some repairing their footgear, some smoking pipes, and some +stripping themselves naked to steam the lice out of their shirts. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +One would have thought that under the almost incredibly wretched +conditions the Russian soldiers were in at that time--lacking warm +boots and sheepskin coats, without a roof over their heads, in the +snow with eighteen degrees of frost, and without even full rations +(the commissariat did not always keep up with the troops)--they +would have presented a very sad and depressing spectacle. + +On the contrary, the army had never under the best material +conditions presented a more cheerful and animated aspect. This was +because all who began to grow depressed or who lost strength were +sifted out of the army day by day. All the physically or morally +weak had long since been left behind and only the flower of the +army--physically and mentally--remained. + +More men collected behind the wattle fence of the Eighth Company +than anywhere else. Two sergeants major were sitting with them and +their campfire blazed brighter than others. For leave to sit by +their wattle they demanded contributions of fuel. + +"Eh, Makeev! What has become of you, you son of a bitch? Are you +lost or have the wolves eaten you? Fetch some more wood!" shouted a +red-haired and red-faced man, screwing up his eyes and blinking +because of the smoke but not moving back from the fire. "And you, +Jackdaw, go and fetch some wood!" said he to another soldier. + +This red-haired man was neither a sergeant nor a corporal, but being +robust he ordered about those weaker than himself. The soldier they +called "Jackdaw," a thin little fellow with a sharp nose, rose +obediently and was about to go but at that instant there came into the +light of the fire the slender, handsome figure of a young soldier +carrying a load of wood. + +"Bring it here--that's fine!" + +They split up the wood, pressed it down on the fire, blew at it with +their mouths, and fanned it with the skirts of their greatcoats, +making the flames hiss and crackle. The men drew nearer and lit +their pipes. The handsome young soldier who had brought the wood, +setting his arms akimbo, began stamping his cold feet rapidly and +deftly on the spot where he stood. + +"Mother! The dew is cold but clear.... It's well that I'm a +musketeer..." he sang, pretending to hiccough after each syllable. + +"Look out, your soles will fly off!" shouted the red-haired man, +noticing that the sole of the dancer's boot was hanging loose. "What a +fellow you are for dancing!" + +The dancer stopped, pulled off the loose piece of leather, and threw +it on the fire. + +"Right enough, friend," said he, and, having sat down, took out of +his knapsack a scrap of blue French cloth, and wrapped it round his +foot. "It's the steam that spoils them," he added, stretching out +his feet toward the fire. + +"They'll soon be issuing us new ones. They say that when we've +finished hammering them, we're to receive double kits!" + +"And that son of a bitch Petrov has lagged behind after all, it +seems," said one sergeant major. + +"I've had an eye on him this long while," said the other. + +"Well, he's a poor sort of soldier..." + +"But in the Third Company they say nine men were missing yesterday." + +"Yes, it's all very well, but when a man's feet are frozen how can +he walk?" + +"Eh? Don't talk nonsense!" said a sergeant major. + +"Do you want to be doing the same?" said an old soldier, turning +reproachfully to the man who had spoken of frozen feet. + +"Well, you know," said the sharp-nosed man they called Jackdaw in +a squeaky and unsteady voice, raising himself at the other side of the +fire, "a plump man gets thin, but for a thin one it's death. Take +me, now! I've got no strength left," he added, with sudden +resolution turning to the sergeant major. "Tell them to send me to +hospital; I'm aching all over; anyway I shan't be able to keep up." + +"That'll do, that'll do!" replied the sergeant major quietly. + +The soldier said no more and the talk went on. + +"What a lot of those Frenchies were taken today, and the fact is +that not one of them had what you might call real boots on," said a +soldier, starting a new theme. "They were no more than make-believes." + +"The Cossacks have taken their boots. They were clearing the hut for +the colonel and carried them out. It was pitiful to see them, boys," +put in the dancer. "As they turned them over one seemed still alive +and, would you believe it, he jabbered something in their lingo." + +"But they're a clean folk, lads," the first man went on; "he was +white--as white as birchbark--and some of them are such fine +fellows, you might think they were nobles." + +"Well, what do you think? They make soldiers of all classes there." + +"But they don't understand our talk at all," said the dancer with +a puzzled smile. "I asked him whose subject he was, and he jabbered in +his own way. A queer lot!" + +"But it's strange, friends," continued the man who had wondered at +their whiteness, "the peasants at Mozhaysk were saying that when +they began burying the dead--where the battle was you know--well, +those dead had been lying there for nearly a month, and says the +peasant, 'they lie as white as paper, clean, and not as much smell +as a puff of powder smoke.'" + +"Was it from the cold?" asked someone. + +"You're a clever fellow! From the cold indeed! Why, it was hot. If +it had been from the cold, ours would not have rotted either. 'But,' +he says, 'go up to ours and they are all rotten and maggoty. So,' he +says, 'we tie our faces up with kerchiefs and turn our heads away as +we drag them off: we can hardly do it. But theirs,' he says, 'are +white as paper and not so much smell as a whiff of gunpowder.'" + +All were silent. + +"It must be from their food," said the sergeant major. "They used to +gobble the same food as the gentry." + +No one contradicted him. + +"That peasant near Mozhaysk where the battle was said the men were +all called up from ten villages around and they carted for twenty days +and still didn't finish carting the dead away. And as for the +wolves, he says..." + +"That was a real battle," said an old soldier. "It's the only one +worth remembering; but since that... it's only been tormenting folk." + +"And do you know, Daddy, the day before yesterday we ran at them +and, my word, they didn't let us get near before they just threw +down their muskets and went on their knees. 'Pardon!' they say. That's +only one case. They say Platov took 'Poleon himself twice. But he +didn't know the right charm. He catches him and catches him--no +good! He turns into a bird in his hands and flies away. And there's no +way of killing him either." + +"You're a first-class liar, Kiselev, when I come to look at you!" + +"Liar, indeed! It's the real truth." + +"If he fell into my hands, when I'd caught him I'd bury him in the +ground with an aspen stake to fix him down. What a lot of men he's +ruined!" + +"Well, anyhow we're going to end it. He won't come here again," +remarked the old soldier, yawning. + +The conversation flagged, and the soldiers began settling down to +sleep. + +"Look at the stars. It's wonderful how they shine! You would think +the women had spread out their linen," said one of the men, gazing +with admiration at the Milky Way. + +"That's a sign of a good harvest next year." + +"We shall want some more wood." + +"You warm your back and your belly gets frozen. That's queer." + +"O Lord!" + +"What are you pushing for? Is the fire only for you? Look how he's +sprawling!" + +In the silence that ensued, the snoring of those who had fallen +asleep could be heard. Others turned over and warmed themselves, now +and again exchanging a few words. From a campfire a hundred paces +off came a sound of general, merry laughter. + +"Hark at them roaring there in the Fifth Company!" said one of the +soldiers, "and what a lot of them there are!" + +One of the men got up and went over to the Fifth Company. + +"They're having such fun," said he, coming back. "Two Frenchies have +turned up. One's quite frozen and the other's an awful swaggerer. He's +singing songs...." + +"Oh, I'll go across and have a look...." + +And several of the men went over to the Fifth Company. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The fifth company was bivouacking at the very edge of the forest. +A huge campfire was blazing brightly in the midst of the snow, +lighting up the branches of trees heavy with hoarfrost. + +About midnight they heard the sound of steps in the snow of the +forest, and the crackling of dry branches. + +"A bear, lads," said one of the men. + +They all raised their heads to listen, and out of the forest into +the bright firelight stepped two strangely clad human figures clinging +to one another. + +These were two Frenchmen who had been hiding in the forest. They +came up to the fire, hoarsely uttering something in a language our +soldiers did not understand. One was taller than the other; he wore an +officer's hat and seemed quite exhausted. On approaching the fire he +had been going to sit down, but fell. The other, a short sturdy +soldier with a shawl tied round his head, was stronger. He raised +his companion and said something, pointing to his mouth. The +soldiers surrounded the Frenchmen, spread a greatcoat on the ground +for the sick man, and brought some buckwheat porridge and vodka for +both of them. + +The exhausted French officer was Ramballe and the man with his +head wrapped in the shawl was Morel, his orderly. + +When Morel had drunk some vodka and finished his bowl of porridge he +suddenly became unnaturally merry and chattered incessantly to the +soldiers, who could not understand him. Ramballe refused food and +resting his head on his elbow lay silent beside the campfire, +looking at the Russian soldiers with red and vacant eyes. Occasionally +he emitted a long-drawn groan and then again became silent. Morel, +pointing to his shoulders, tried to impress on the soldiers the fact +that Ramballe was an officer and ought to be warmed. A Russian officer +who had come up to the fire sent to ask his colonel whether he would +not take a French officer into his hut to warm him, and when the +messenger returned and said that the colonel wished the officer to +be brought to him, Ramballe was told to go. He rose and tried to walk, +but staggered and would have fallen had not a soldier standing by held +him up. + +"You won't do it again, eh?" said one of the soldiers, winking and +turning mockingly to Ramballe. + +"Oh, you fool! Why talk rubbish, lout that you are--a real peasant!" +came rebukes from all sides addressed to the jesting soldier. + +They surrounded Ramballe, lifted him on the crossed arms of two +soldiers, and carried him to the hut. Ramballe put his arms around +their necks while they carried him and began wailing plaintively: + +"Oh, you fine fellows, my kind, kind friends! These are men! Oh, +my brave, kind friends," and he leaned his head against the shoulder +of one of the men like a child. + +Meanwhile Morel was sitting in the best place by the fire, +surrounded by the soldiers. + +Morel, a short sturdy Frenchman with inflamed and streaming eyes, +was wearing a woman's cloak and had a shawl tied woman fashion round +his head over his cap. He was evidently tipsy, and was singing a +French song in a hoarse broken voice, with an arm thrown round the +nearest soldier. The soldiers simply held their sides as they +watched him. + +"Now then, now then, teach us how it goes! I'll soon pick it up. How +is it?" said the man--a singer and a wag--whom Morel was embracing. + +"Vive Henri Quatre! Vive ce roi valiant!" sang Morel, winking. "Ce +diable a quatre..."* + + +*"Long live Henry the Fourth, that valiant king! That rowdy devil." + + +"Vivarika! Vif-seruvaru! Sedyablyaka!" repeated the soldier, +flourishing his arm and really catching the tune. + +"Bravo! Ha, ha, ha!" rose their rough, joyous laughter from all +sides. + +Morel, wrinkling up his face, laughed too. + +"Well, go on, go on!" + + "Qui eut le triple talent, + De boire, de battre, + Et d'etre un vert galant."* + + +*Who had a triple talent + + For drinking, for fighting, + + And for being a gallant old boy... + + +"It goes smoothly, too. Well, now, Zaletaev!" + +"Ke..." Zaletaev, brought out with effort: "ke-e-e-e," he drawled, +laboriously pursing his lips, "le-trip-ta-la-de-bu-de-ba, e +de-tra-va-ga-la" he sang. + +"Fine! Just like the Frenchie! Oh, ho ho! Do you want some more to +eat?" + +"Give him some porridge: it takes a long time to get filled up after +starving." + +They gave him some more porridge and Morel with a laugh set to +work on his third bowl. All the young soldiers smiled gaily as they +watched him. The older men, who thought it undignified to amuse +themselves with such nonsense, continued to lie at the opposite side +of the fire, but one would occasionally raise himself on an elbow +and glance at Morel with a smile. + +"They are men too," said one of them as he wrapped himself up in his +coat. "Even wormwood grows on its own root." + +"O Lord, O Lord! How starry it is! Tremendous! That means a hard +frost...." + +They all grew silent. The stars, as if knowing that no one was +looking at them, began to disport themselves in the dark sky: now +flaring up, now vanishing, now trembling, they were busy whispering +something gladsome and mysterious to one another. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +The French army melted away at the uniform rate of a mathematical +progression; and that crossing of the Berezina about which so much has +been written was only one intermediate stage in its destruction, and +not at all the decisive episode of the campaign. If so much has been +and still is written about the Berezina, on the French side this is +only because at the broken bridge across that river the calamities +their army had been previously enduring were suddenly concentrated +at one moment into a tragic spectacle that remained in every memory, +and on the Russian side merely because in Petersburg--far from the +seat of war--a plan (again one of Pfuel's) had been devised to catch +Napoleon in a strategic trap at the Berezina River. Everyone assured +himself that all would happen according to plan, and therefore +insisted that it was just the crossing of the Berezina that +destroyed the French army. In reality the results of the crossing were +much less disastrous to the French--in guns and men lost--than Krasnoe +had been, as the figures show. + +The sole importance of the crossing of the Berezina lies in the fact +that it plainly and indubitably proved the fallacy of all the plans +for cutting off the enemy's retreat and the soundness of the only +possible line of action--the one Kutuzov and the general mass of the +army demanded--namely, simply to follow the enemy up. The French crowd +fled at a continually increasing speed and all its energy was directed +to reaching its goal. It fled like a wounded animal and it was +impossible to block its path. This was shown not so much by the +arrangements it made for crossing as by what took place at the +bridges. When the bridges broke down, unarmed soldiers, people from +Moscow and women with children who were with the French transport, +all--carried on by vis inertiae--pressed forward into boats and into +the ice-covered water and did not, surrender. + +That impulse was reasonable. The condition of fugitives and of +pursuers was equally bad. As long as they remained with their own +people each might hope for help from his fellows and the definite +place he held among them. But those who surrendered, while remaining +in the same pitiful plight, would be on a lower level to claim a share +in the necessities of life. The French did not need to be informed +of the fact that half the prisoners--with whom the Russians did not +know what to do--perished of cold and hunger despite their captors' +desire to save them; they felt that it could not be otherwise. The +most compassionate Russian commanders, those favorable to the +French--and even the Frenchmen in the Russian service--could do +nothing for the prisoners. The French perished from the conditions +to which the Russian army was itself exposed. It was impossible to +take bread and clothes from our hungry and indispensable soldiers to +give to the French who, though not harmful, or hated, or guilty, +were simply unnecessary. Some Russians even did that, but they were +exceptions. + +Certain destruction lay behind the French but in front there was +hope. Their ships had been burned, there was no salvation save in +collective flight, and on that the whole strength of the French was +concentrated. + +The farther they fled the more wretched became the plight of the +remnant, especially after the Berezina, on which (in consequence of +the Petersburg plan) special hopes had been placed by the Russians, +and the keener grew the passions of the Russian commanders, blamed one +another and Kutuzov most of all. Anticipation that the failure of +the Petersburg Berezina plan would be attributed to Kutuzov led to +dissatisfaction, contempt, and ridicule, more and more strongly +expressed. The ridicule and contempt were of course expressed in a +respectful form, making it impossible for him to ask wherein he was to +blame. They did not talk seriously to him; when reporting to him or +asking for his sanction they appeared to be fulfilling a regrettable +formality, but they winked behind his back and tried to mislead him at +every turn. + +Because they could not understand him all these people assumed +that it was useless to talk to the old man; that he would never +grasp the profundity of their plans, that he would answer with his +phrases (which they thought were mere phrases) about a "golden +bridge," about the impossibility of crossing the frontier with a crowd +of tatterdemalions, and so forth. They had heard all that before. +And all he said--that it was necessary to await provisions, or that +the men had no boots--was so simple, while what they proposed was so +complicated and clever, that it was evident that he was old and stupid +and that they, though not in power, were commanders of genius. + +After the junction with the army of the brilliant admiral and +Petersburg hero Wittgenstein, this mood and the gossip of the staff +reached their maximum. Kutuzov saw this and merely sighed and shrugged +his shoulders. Only once, after the affair of the Berezina, did he get +angry and write to Bennigsen (who reported separately to the +Emperor) the following letter: + +"On account of your spells of ill health, will your excellency +please be so good as to set off for Kaluga on receipt of this, and +there await further commands and appointments from His Imperial +Majesty." + +But after Bennigsen's departure, the Grand Duke Tsarevich +Constantine Pavlovich joined the army. He had taken part in the +beginning of the campaign but had subsequently been removed from the +army by Kutuzov. Now having come to the army, he informed Kutuzov of +the Emperor's displeasure at the poor success of our forces and the +slowness of their advance. The Emperor intended to join the army +personally in a few days' time. + +The old man, experienced in court as well as in military affairs- +this same Kutuzov who in August had been chosen commander in chief +against the sovereign's wishes and who had removed the Grand Duke +and heir--apparent from the army--who on his own authority and +contrary to the Emperor's will had decided on the abandonment of +Moscow, now realized at once that his day was over, that his part +was played, and that the power he was supposed to hold was no longer +his. And he understood this not merely from the attitude of the court. +He saw on the one hand that the military business in which he had +played his part was ended and felt that his mission was +accomplished; and at the same time he began to be conscious of the +physical weariness of his aged body and of the necessity of physical +rest. + +On the twenty-ninth of November Kutuzov entered Vilna--his "dear +Vilna" as he called it. Twice during his career Kutuzov had been +governor of Vilna. In that wealthy town, which had not been injured, +he found old friends and associations, besides the comforts of life of +which he had so long been deprived. And he suddenly turned from the +cares of army and state and, as far as the passions that seethed +around him allowed, immersed himself in the quiet life to which he had +formerly been accustomed, as if all that was taking place and all that +had still to be done in the realm of history did not concern him at +all. + +Chichagov, one of the most zealous "cutters-off" and +"breakers-up," who had first wanted to effect a diversion in Greece +and then in Warsaw but never wished to go where he was sent: +Chichagov, noted for the boldness with which he spoke to the +Emperor, and who considered Kutuzov to be under an obligation to him +because when he was sent to make peace with Turkey in 1811 +independently of Kutuzov, and found that peace had already been +concluded, he admitted to the Emperor that the merit of securing +that peace was really Kutuzov's; this Chichagov was the first to +meet Kutuzov at the castle where the latter was to stay. In undress +naval uniform, with a dirk, and holding his cap under his arm, he +handed Kutuzov a garrison report and the keys of the town. The +contemptuously respectful attitude of the younger men to the old man +in his dotage was expressed in the highest degree by the behavior of +Chichagov, who knew of the accusations that were being directed +against Kutuzov. + +When speaking to Chichagov, Kutuzov incidentally mentioned that +the vehicles packed with china that had been captured from him at +Borisov had been recovered and would be restored to him. + +"You mean to imply that I have nothing to eat out of.... On the +contrary, I can supply you with everything even if you want to give +dinner parties," warmly replied Chichagov, who tried by every word +he spoke to prove his own rectitude and therefore imagined Kutuzov +to be animated by the same desire. + +Kutuzov, shrugging his shoulders, replied with his subtle +penetrating smile: "I meant merely to say what I said." + +Contrary to the Emperor's wish Kutuzov detained the greater part +of the army at Vilna. Those about him said that he became +extraordinarily slack and physically feeble during his stay in that +town. He attended to army affairs reluctantly, left everything to +his generals, and while awaiting the Emperor's arrival led a +dissipated life. + +Having left Petersburg on the seventh of December with his suite- +Count Tolstoy, Prince Volkonski, Arakcheev, and others--the Emperor +reached Vilna on the eleventh, and in his traveling sleigh drove +straight to the castle. In spite of the severe frost some hundred +generals and staff officers in full parade uniform stood in front of +the castle, as well as a guard of honor of the Semenov regiment. + +A courier who galloped to the castle in advance, in a troyka with +three foam-flecked horses, shouted "Coming!" and Konovnitsyn rushed +into the vestibule to inform Kutuzov, who was waiting in the hall +porter's little lodge. + +A minute later the old man's large stout figure in full-dress +uniform, his chest covered with orders and a scarf drawn round his +stomach, waddled out into the porch. He put on his hat with its +peaks to the sides and, holding his gloves in his hand and walking +with an effort sideways down the steps to the level of the street, +took in his hand the report he had prepared for the Emperor. + +There was running to and fro and whispering; another troyka +furiously up, and then all eyes were turned on an approaching sleigh +in which the figures of the Emperor and Volkonski could already be +descried. + +From the habit of fifty years all this had a physically agitating +effect on the old general. He carefully and hastily felt himself all +over, readjusted his hat, and pulling himself together drew himself up +and, at the very moment when the Emperor, having alighted from the +sleigh, lifted his eyes to him, handed him the report and began +speaking in his smooth, ingratiating voice. + +The Emperor with a rapid glance scanned Kutuzov from head to foot, +frowned for an instant, but immediately mastering himself went up to +the old man, extended his arms and embraced him. And this embrace too, +owing to a long-standing impression related to his innermost feelings, +had its usual effect on Kutuzov and he gave a sob. + +The Emperor greeted the officers and the Semenov guard, and again +pressing the old man's hand went with him into the castle. + +When alone with the field marshal the Emperor expressed his +dissatisfaction at the slowness of the pursuit and at the mistakes +made at Krasnoe and the Berezina, and informed him of his intentions +for a future campaign abroad. Kutuzov made no rejoinder or remark. The +same submissive, expressionless look with which he had listened to the +Emperor's commands on the field of Austerlitz seven years before +settled on his face now. + +When Kutuzov came out of the study and with lowered head was +crossing the ballroom with his heavy waddling gait, he was arrested by +someone's voice saying: + +"Your Serene Highness!" + +Kutuzov raised his head and looked for a long while into the eyes of +Count Tolstoy, who stood before him holding a silver salver on which +lay a small object. Kutuzov seemed not to understand what was expected +of him. + +Suddenly he seemed to remember; a scarcely perceptible smile flashed +across his puffy face, and bowing low and respectfully he took the +object that lay on the salver. It was the Order of St. George of the +First Class. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Next day the field marshal gave a dinner and ball which the +Emperor honored by his presence. Kutuzov had received the Order of St. +George of the First Class and the Emperor showed him the highest +honors, but everyone knew of the imperial dissatisfaction with him. +The proprieties were observed and the Emperor was the first to set +that example, but everybody understood that the old man was +blameworthy and good-for-nothing. When Kutuzov, conforming to a custom +of Catherine's day, ordered the standards that had been captured to be +lowered at the Emperor's feet on his entering the ballroom, the +Emperor made a wry face and muttered something in which some people +caught the words, "the old comedian." + +The Emperor's displeasure with Kutuzov was specially increased at +Vilna by the fact that Kutuzov evidently could not or would not +understand the importance of the coming campaign. + +When on the following morning the Emperor said to the officers +assembled about him: "You have not only saved Russia, you have saved +Europe!" they all understood that the war was not ended. + +Kutuzov alone would not see this and openly expressed his opinion +that no fresh war could improve the position or add to the glory of +Russia, but could only spoil and lower the glorious position that +Russia had gained. He tried to prove to the Emperor the +impossibility of levying fresh troops, spoke of the hardships +already endured by the people, of the possibility of failure and so +forth. + +This being the field marshal's frame of mind he was naturally +regarded as merely a hindrance and obstacle to the impending war. + +To avoid unpleasant encounters with the old man, the natural +method was to do what had been done with him at Austerlitz and with +Barclay at the beginning of the Russian campaign--to transfer the +authority to the Emperor himself, thus cutting the ground from under +the commander in chief's feet without upsetting the old man by +informing him of the change. + +With this object his staff was gradually reconstructed and its +real strength removed and transferred to the Emperor. Toll, +Konovnitsyn, and Ermolov received fresh appointments. Everyone spoke +loudly of the field marshal's great weakness and failing health. + +His health had to be bad for his place to be taken away and given to +another. And in fact his health was poor. + +So naturally, simply, and gradually--just as he had come from Turkey +to the Treasury in Petersburg to recruit the militia, and then to +the army when he was needed there--now when his part was played out, +Kutuzov's place was taken by a new and necessary performer. + +The war 1812, besides its national significance dear to every +Russian heart, was now to assume another, a European, significance. + +The movement of peoples from west to east was to be succeeded by a +movement of peoples from east to west, and for this fresh war +another leader was necessary, having qualities and views differing +from Kutuzov's and animated by different motives. + +Alexander I was as necessary for the movement of the peoples from +east to west and for the refixing of national frontiers as Kutuzov had +been for the salvation and glory of Russia. + +Kutuzov did not understand what Europe, the balance of power, or +Napoleon meant. He could not understand it. For the representative +of the Russian people, after the enemy had been destroyed and Russia +had been liberated and raised to the summit of her glory, there was +nothing left to do as a Russian. Nothing remained for the +representative of the national war but to die, and Kutuzov died. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +As generally happens, Pierre did not feel the full effects of the +physical privation and strain he had suffered as prisoner until +after they were over. After his liberation he reached Orel, and on the +third day there, when preparing to go to Kiev, he fell ill and was +laid up for three months. He had what the doctors termed "bilious +fever." But despite the fact that the doctors treated him, bled him, +and gave him medicines to drink, he recovered. + +Scarcely any impression was left on Pierre's mind by all that +happened to him from the time of his rescue till his illness. He +remembered only the dull gray weather now rainy and now snowy, +internal physical distress, and pains in his feet and side. He +remembered a general impression of the misfortunes and sufferings of +people and of being worried by the curiosity of officers and +generals who questioned him, he also remembered his difficulty in +procuring a conveyance and horses, and above all he remembered his +incapacity to think and feel all that time. On the day of his rescue +he had seen the body of Petya Rostov. That same day he had learned +that Prince Andrew, after surviving the battle of Borodino for more +than a month had recently died in the Rostovs' house at Yaroslavl, and +Denisov who told him this news also mentioned Helene's death, +supposing that Pierre had heard of it long before. All this at the +time seemed merely strange to Pierre: he felt he could not grasp its +significance. Just then he was only anxious to get away as quickly +as possible from places where people were killing one another, to some +peaceful refuge where he could recover himself, rest, and think over +all the strange new facts he had learned; but on reaching Orel he +immediately fell ill. When he came to himself after his illness he saw +in attendance on him two of his servants, Terenty and Vaska, who had +come from Moscow; and also his cousin the eldest princess, who had +been living on his estate at Elets and hearing of his rescue and +illness had come to look after him. + +It was only gradually during his convalescence that Pierre lost +the impressions he had become accustomed to during the last few months +and got used to the idea that no one would oblige him to go anywhere +tomorrow, that no one would deprive him of his warm bed, and that he +would be sure to get his dinner, tea, and supper. But for a long +time in his dreams he still saw himself in the conditions of +captivity. In the same way little by little he came to understand +the news he had been told after his rescue, about the death of +Prince Andrew, the death of his wife, and the destruction of the +French. + +A joyous feeling of freedom--that complete inalienable freedom +natural to man which he had first experienced at the first halt +outside Moscow--filled Pierre's soul during his convalescence. He +was surprised to find that this inner freedom, which was independent +of external conditions, now had as it were an additional setting of +external liberty. He was alone in a strange town, without +acquaintances. No one demanded anything of him or sent him anywhere. +He had all he wanted: the thought of his wife which had been a +continual torment to him was no longer there, since she was no more. + +"Oh, how good! How splendid!" said he to himself when a cleanly laid +table was moved up to him with savory beef tea, or when he lay down +for the night on a soft clean bed, or when he remembered that the +French had gone and that his wife was no more. "Oh, how good, how +splendid!" + +And by old habit he asked himself the question: "Well, and what +then? What am I going to do?" And he immediately gave himself the +answer: "Well, I shall live. Ah, how splendid!" + +The very question that had formerly tormented him, the thing he +had continually sought to find--the aim of life--no longer existed for +him now. That search for the aim of life had not merely disappeared +temporarily--he felt that it no longer existed for him and could not +present itself again. And this very absence of an aim gave him the +complete, joyous sense of freedom which constituted his happiness at +this time. + +He could not see an aim, for he now had faith--not faith in any kind +of rule, or words, or ideas, but faith in an ever-living, +ever-manifest God. Formerly he had sought Him in aims he set +himself. That search for an aim had been simply a search for God, +and suddenly in his captivity he had learned not by words or reasoning +but by direct feeling what his nurse had told him long ago: that God +is here and everywhere. In his captivity he had learned that in +Karataev God was greater, more infinite and unfathomable than in the +Architect of the Universe recognized by the Freemasons. He felt like a +man who after straining his eyes to see into the far distance finds +what he sought at his very feet. All his life he had looked over the +heads of the men around him, when he should have merely looked in +front of him without straining his eyes. + +In the past he had never been able to find that great inscrutable +infinite something. He had only felt that it must exist somewhere +and had looked for it. In everything near and comprehensible he had +only what was limited, petty, commonplace, and senseless. He had +equipped himself with a mental telescope and looked into remote space, +where petty worldliness hiding itself in misty distance had seemed +to him great and infinite merely because it was not clearly seen. +And such had European life, politics, Freemasonry, philosophy, and +philanthropy seemed to him. But even then, at moments of weakness as +he had accounted them, his mind had penetrated to those distances +and he had there seen the same pettiness, worldliness, and +senselessness. Now, however, he had learned to see the great, eternal, +and infinite in everything, and therefore--to see it and enjoy its +contemplation--he naturally threw away the telescope through which +he had till now gazed over men's heads, and gladly regarded the +ever-changing, eternally great, unfathomable, and infinite life around +him. And the closer he looked the more tranquil and happy he became. +That dreadful question, "What for?" which had formerly destroyed all +his mental edifices, no longer existed for him. To that question, +"What for?" a simple answer was now always ready in his soul: "Because +there is a God, that God without whose will not one hair falls from +a man's head." + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +In external ways Pierre had hardly changed at all. In appearance +he was just what he used to be. As before he was absent-minded and +seemed occupied not with what was before his eyes but with something +special of his own. The difference between his former and present self +was that formerly when he did not grasp what lay before him or was +said to him, he had puckered his forehead painfully as if vainly +seeking to distinguish something at a distance. At present he still +forgot what was said to him and still did not see what was before +his eyes, but he now looked with a scarcely perceptible and +seemingly ironic smile at what was before him and listened to what was +said, though evidently seeing and hearing something quite different. +Formerly he had appeared to be a kindhearted but unhappy man, and so +people had been inclined to avoid him. Now a smile at the joy of +life always played round his lips, and sympathy for others, shone in +his eyes with a questioning look as to whether they were as +contented as he was, and people felt pleased by his presence. + +Previously he had talked a great deal, grew excited when he +talked, and seldom listened; now he was seldom carried away in +conversation and knew how to listen so that people readily told him +their most intimate secrets. + +The princess, who had never liked Pierre and had been particularly +hostile to him since she had felt herself under obligations to him +after the old count's death, now after staying a short time in Orel- +where she had come intending to show Pierre that in spite of his +ingratitude she considered it her duty to nurse him--felt to her +surprise and vexation that she had become fond of him. Pierre did +not in any way seek her approval, he merely studied her with interest. +Formerly she had felt that he regarded her with indifference and +irony, and so had shrunk into herself as she did with others and had +shown him only the combative side of her nature; but now he seemed +to be trying to understand the most intimate places of her heart, and, +mistrustfully at first but afterwards gratefully, she let him see +the hidden, kindly sides of her character. + +The most cunning man could not have crept into her confidence more +successfully, evoking memories of the best times of her youth and +showing sympathy with them. Yet Pierre's cunning consisted simply in +finding pleasure in drawing out the human qualities of the embittered, +hard, and (in her own way) proud princess. + +"Yes, he is a very, very kind man when he is not under the influence +of bad people but of people such as myself," thought she. + +His servants too--Terenty and Vaska--in their own way noticed the +change that had taken place in Pierre. They considered that he had +become much "simpler." Terenty, when he had helped him undress and +wished him good night, often lingered with his master's boots in his +hands and clothes over his arm, to see whether he would not start a +talk. And Pierre, noticing that Terenty wanted a chat, generally +kept him there. + +"Well, tell me... now, how did you get food?" he would ask. + +And Terenty would begin talking of the destruction of Moscow, and of +the old count, and would stand for a long time holding the clothes and +talking, or sometimes listening to Pierre's stories, and then would go +out into the hall with a pleasant sense of intimacy with his master +and affection for him. + +The doctor who attended Pierre and visited him every day, though +he considered it his duty as a doctor to pose as a man whose every +moment was of value to suffering humanity, would sit for hours with +Pierre telling him his favorite anecdotes and his observations on +the characters of his patients in general, and especially of the +ladies. + +"It's a pleasure to talk to a man like that; he is not like our +provincials," he would say. + +There were several prisoners from the French army in Orel, and the +doctor brought one of them, a young Italian, to see Pierre. + +This officer began visiting Pierre, and the princess used to make +fun of the tenderness the Italian expressed for him. + +The Italian seemed happy only when he could come to see Pierre, talk +with him, tell him about his past, his life at home, and his love, and +pour out to him his indignation against the French and especially +against Napoleon. + +"If all Russians are in the least like you, it is sacrilege to fight +such a nation," he said to Pierre. "You, who have suffered so from the +French, do not even feel animosity toward them." + +Pierre had evoked the passionate affection of the Italian merely +by evoking the best side of his nature and taking a pleasure in so +doing. + +During the last days of Pierre's stay in Orel his old Masonic +acquaintance Count Willarski, who had introduced him to the lodge in +1807, came to see him. Willarski was married to a Russian heiress +who had a large estate in Orel province, and he occupied a temporary +post in the commissariat department in that town. + +Hearing that Bezukhov was in Orel, Willarski, though they had +never been intimate, came to him with the professions of friendship +and intimacy that people who meet in a desert generally express for +one another. Willarski felt dull in Orel and was pleased to meet a man +of his own circle and, as he supposed, of similar interests. + +But to his surprise Willarski soon noticed that Pierre had lagged +much behind the times, and had sunk, as he expressed it to himself, +into apathy and egotism. + +"You are letting yourself go, my dear fellow," he said. + +But for all that Willarski found it pleasanter now than it had +been formerly to be with Pierre, and came to see him every day. To +Pierre as he looked at and listened to Willarski, it seemed strange to +think that he had been like that himself but a short time before. + +Willarski was a married man with a family, busy with his family +affairs, his wife's affairs, and his official duties. He regarded +all these occupations as hindrances to life, and considered that +they were all contemptible because their aim was the welfare of +himself and his family. Military, administrative, political, and +Masonic interests continually absorbed his attention. And Pierre, +without trying to change the other's views and without condemning him, +but with the quiet, joyful, and amused smile now habitual to him, +was interested in this strange though very familiar phenomenon. + +There was a new feature in Pierre's relations with Willarski, with +the princess, with the doctor, and with all the people he now met, +which gained for him the general good will. This was his +acknowledgment of the impossibility of changing a man's convictions by +words, and his recognition of the possibility of everyone thinking, +feeling, and seeing things each from his own point of view. This +legitimate peculiarity of each individual which used to excite and +irritate Pierre now became a basis of the sympathy he felt for, and +the interest he took in, other people. The difference, and sometimes +complete contradiction, between men's opinions and their lives, and +between one man and another, pleased him and drew from him an amused +and gentle smile. + +In practical matters Pierre unexpectedly felt within himself a +center of gravity he had previously lacked. Formerly all pecuniary +questions, especially requests for money to which, as an extremely +wealthy man, he was very exposed, produced in him a state of +hopeless agitation and perplexity. "To give or not to give?" he had +asked himself. "I have it and he needs it. But someone else needs it +still more. Who needs it most? And perhaps they are both impostors?" +In the old days he had been unable to find a way out of all these +surmises and had given to all who asked as long as he had anything +to give. Formerly he had been in a similar state of perplexity with +regard to every question concerning his property, when one person +advised one thing and another something else. + +Now to his surprise he found that he no longer felt either doubt +or perplexity about these questions. There was now within him a +judge who by some rule unknown to him decided what should or should +not be done. + +He was as indifferent as heretofore to money matters, but now he +felt certain of what ought and what ought not to be done. The first +time he had recourse to his new judge was when a French prisoner, a +colonel, came to him and, after talking a great deal about his +exploits, concluded by making what amounted to a demand that Pierre +should give him four thousand francs to send to his wife and children. +Pierre refused without the least difficulty or effort, and was +afterwards surprised how simple and easy had been what used to +appear so insurmountably difficult. At the same time that he refused +the colonel's demand he made up his mind that he must have recourse to +artifice when leaving Orel, to induce the Italian officer to accept +some money of which he was evidently in need. A further proof to +Pierre of his own more settled outlook on practical matters was +furnished by his decision with regard to his wife's debts and to the +rebuilding of his houses in and near Moscow. + +His head steward came to him at Orel and Pierre reckoned up with him +his diminished income. The burning of Moscow had cost him, according +to the head steward's calculation, about two million rubles. + +To console Pierre for these losses the head steward gave him an +estimate showing that despite these losses his income would not be +diminished but would even be increased if he refused to pay his wife's +debts which he was under no obligation to meet, and did not rebuild +his Moscow house and the country house on his Moscow estate, which had +cost him eighty thousand rubles a year and brought in nothing. + +"Yes, of course that's true," said Pierre with a cheerful smile. +"I don't need all that at all. By being ruined I have become much +richer." + +But in January Savelich came from Moscow and gave him an account +of the state of things there, and spoke of the estimate an architect +had made of the cost of rebuilding the town and country houses, +speaking of this as of a settled matter. About the same time he +received letters from Prince Vasili and other Petersburg acquaintances +speaking of his wife's debts. And Pierre decided that the steward's +proposals which had so pleased him were wrong and that he must go to +Petersburg and settle his wife's affairs and must rebuild in Moscow. +Why this was necessary he did not know, but he knew for certain that +it was necessary. His income would be reduced by three fourths, but he +felt it must be done. + +Willarski was going to Moscow and they agreed to travel together. + +During the whole time of his convalescence in Orel Pierre had +experienced a feeling of joy, freedom, and life; but when during his +journey he found himself in the open world and saw hundreds of new +faces, that feeling was intensified. Throughout his journey he felt +like a schoolboy on holiday. Everyone--the stagecoach driver, the +post-house overseers, the peasants on the roads and in the villages- +had a new significance for him. The presence and remarks of +Willarski who continually deplored the ignorance and poverty of Russia +and its backwardness compared with Europe only heightened Pierre's +pleasure. Where Willarski saw deadness Pierre saw an extraordinary +strength and vitality--the strength which in that vast space amid +the snows maintained the life of this original, peculiar, and unique +people. He did not contradict Willarski and even seemed to agree +with him--an apparent agreement being the simplest way to avoid +discussions that could lead to nothing--and he smiled joyfully as he +listened to him. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +It would be difficult to explain why and whither ants whose heap has +been destroyed are hurrying: some from the heap dragging bits of +rubbish, larvae, and corpses, others back to the heap, or why they +jostle, overtake one another, and fight, and it would be equally +difficult to explain what caused the Russians after the departure of +the French to throng to the place that had formerly been Moscow. But +when we watch the ants round their ruined heap, the tenacity, +energy, and immense number of the delving insects prove that despite +the destruction of the heap, something indestructible, which though +intangible is the real strength of the colony, still exists; and +similarly, though in Moscow in the month of October there was no +government no churches, shrines, riches, or houses--it was still the +Moscow it had been in August. All was destroyed, except something +intangible yet powerful and indestructible. + +The motives of those who thronged from all sides to Moscow after +it had been cleared of the enemy were most diverse and personal, and +at first for the most part savage and brutal. One motive only they all +had in common: a desire to get to the place that had been called +Moscow, to apply their activities there. + +Within a week Moscow already had fifteen thousand inhabitants, in +a fortnight twenty-five thousand, and so on. By the autumn of 1813 the +number, ever increasing and increasing, exceeded what it had been in +1812. + +The first Russians to enter Moscow were the Cossacks of +Wintzingerode's detachment, peasants from the adjacent villages, and +residents who had fled from Moscow and had been hiding in its +vicinity. The Russians who entered Moscow, finding it plundered, +plundered it in their turn. They continued what the French had +begun. Trains of peasant carts came to Moscow to carry off to the +villages what had been abandoned in the ruined houses and the streets. +The Cossacks carried off what they could to their camps, and the +householders seized all they could find in other houses and moved it +to their own, pretending that it was their property. + +But the first plunderers were followed by a second and a third +contingent, and with increasing numbers plundering became more and +more difficult and assumed more definite forms. + +The French found Moscow abandoned but with all the organizations +of regular life, with diverse branches of commerce and +craftsmanship, with luxury, and governmental and religious +institutions. These forms were lifeless but still existed. There +were bazaars, shops, warehouses, market stalls, granaries--for the +most part still stocked with goods--and there were factories and +workshops, palaces and wealthy houses filled with luxuries, hospitals, +prisons, government offices, churches, and cathedrals. The longer +the French remained the more these forms of town life perished, +until finally all was merged into one confused, lifeless scene of +plunder. + +The more the plundering by the French continued, the more both the +wealth of Moscow and the strength of its plunderers was destroyed. But +plundering by the Russians, with which the reoccupation of the city +began, had an opposite effect: the longer it continued and the greater +the number of people taking part in it the more rapidly was the wealth +of the city and its regular life restored. + +Besides the plunderers, very various people, some drawn by +curiosity, some by official duties, some by self-interest--house +owners, clergy, officials of all kinds, tradesmen, artisans, and +peasants--streamed into Moscow as blood flows to the heart. + +Within a week the peasants who came with empty carts to carry off +plunder were stopped by the authorities and made to cart the corpses +out of the town. Other peasants, having heard of their comrades' +discomfiture, came to town bringing rye, oats, and hay, and beat +down one another's prices to below what they had been in former +days. Gangs of carpenters hoping for high pay arrived in Moscow +every day, and on all sides logs were being hewn, new houses built, +and old, charred ones repaired. Tradesmen began trading in booths. +Cookshops and taverns were opened in partially burned houses. The +clergy resumed the services in many churches that had not been burned. +Donors contributed Church property that had been stolen. Government +clerks set up their baize-covered tables and their pigeonholes of +documents in small rooms. The higher authorities and the police +organized the distribution of goods left behind by the French. The +owners of houses in which much property had been left, brought there +from other houses, complained of the injustice of taking everything to +the Faceted Palace in the Kremlin; others insisted that as the +French had gathered things from different houses into this or that +house, it would be unfair to allow its owner to keep all that was +found there. They abused the police and bribed them, made out +estimates at ten times their value for government stores that had +perished in the fire, and demanded relief. And Count Rostopchin +wrote proclamations. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +At the end of January Pierre went to Moscow and stayed in an annex +of his house which had not been burned. He called on Count +Rostopchin and on some acquaintances who were back in Moscow, and he +intended to leave for Petersburg two days later. Everybody was +celebrating the victory, everything was bubbling with life in the +ruined but reviving city. Everyone was pleased to see Pierre, everyone +wished to meet him, and everyone questioned him about what he had +seen. Pierre felt particularly well disposed toward them all, but +was now instinctively on his guard for fear of binding himself in +any way. To all questions put to him--whether important or quite +trifling--such as: Where would he live? Was he going to rebuild? +When was he going to Petersburg and would he mind taking a parcel +for someone?--he replied: "Yes, perhaps," or, "I think so," and so on. + +He had heard that the Rostovs were at Kostroma but the thought of +Natasha seldom occurred to him. If it did it was only as a pleasant +memory of the distant past. He felt himself not only free from +social obligations but also from that feeling which, it seemed to him, +he had aroused in himself. + +On the third day after his arrival he heard from the Drubetskoys +that Princess Mary was in Moscow. The death, sufferings, and last days +of Prince Andrew had often occupied Pierre's thoughts and now recurred +to him with fresh vividness. Having heard at dinner that Princess Mary +was in Moscow and living in her house--which had not been burned--in +Vozdvizhenka Street, he drove that same evening to see her. + +On his way to the house Pierre kept thinking of Prince Andrew, of +their friendship, of his various meetings with him, and especially +of the last one at Borodino. + +"Is it possible that he died in the bitter frame of mind he was then +in? Is it possible that the meaning of life was not disclosed to him +before he died?" thought Pierre. He recalled Karataev and his death +and involuntarily began to compare these two men, so different, and +yet so similar in that they had both lived and both died and in the +love he felt for both of them. + +Pierre drove up to the house of the old prince in a most serious +mood. The house had escaped the fire; it showed signs of damage but +its general aspect was unchanged. The old footman, who met Pierre with +a stern face as if wishing to make the visitor feel that the absence +of the old prince had not disturbed the order of things in the +house, informed him that the princess had gone to her own +apartments, and that she received on Sundays. + +"Announce me. Perhaps she will see me," said Pierre. + +"Yes, sir," said the man. "Please step into the portrait gallery." + +A few minutes later the footman returned with Dessalles, who brought +word from the princess that she would be very glad to see Pierre if he +would excuse her want of ceremony and come upstairs to her apartment. + +In a rather low room lit by one candle sat the princess and with her +another person dressed in black. Pierre remembered that the princess +always had lady companions, but who they were and what they were +like he never knew or remembered. "This must be one of her +companions," he thought, glancing at the lady in the black dress. + +The princess rose quickly to meet him and held out her hand. + +"Yes," she said, looking at his altered face after he had kissed her +hand, "so this is how we meet again. He spoke of you even at the +very last," she went on, turning her eyes from Pierre to her companion +with a shyness that surprised him for an instant. + +"I was so glad to hear of your safety. It was the first piece of +good news we had received for a long time." + +Again the princess glanced round at her companion with even more +uneasiness in her manner and was about to add something, but Pierre +interrupted her. + +"Just imagine--I knew nothing about him!" said he. "I thought he had +been killed. All I know I heard at second hand from others. I only +know that he fell in with the Rostovs.... What a strange coincidence!" + +Pierre spoke rapidly and with animation. He glanced once at the +companion's face, saw her attentive and kindly gaze fixed on him, and, +as often happens when one is talking, felt somehow that this companion +in the black dress was a good, kind, excellent creature who would +not hinder his conversing freely with Princess Mary. + +But when he mentioned the Rostovs, Princess Mary's face expressed +still greater embarrassment. She again glanced rapidly from Pierre's +face to that of the lady in the black dress and said: + +"Do you really not recognize her?" + +Pierre looked again at the companion's pale, delicate face with +its black eyes and peculiar mouth, and something near to him, long +forgotten and more than sweet, looked at him from those attentive +eyes. + +"But no, it can't be!" he thought. "This stern, thin, pale face that +looks so much older! It cannot be she. It merely reminds me of her." +But at that moment Princess Mary said, "Natasha!" And with difficulty, +effort, and stress, like the opening of a door grown rusty on its +hinges, a smile appeared on the face with the attentive eyes, and from +that opening door came a breath of fragrance which suffused Pierre +with a happiness he had long forgotten and of which he had not even +been thinking--especially at that moment. It suffused him, seized him, +and enveloped him completely. When she smiled doubt was no longer +possible, it was Natasha and he loved her. + +At that moment Pierre involuntarily betrayed to her, to Princess +Mary, and above all to himself, a secret of which he himself had +been unaware. He flushed joyfully yet with painful distress. He +tried to hide his agitation. But the more he tried to hide it the more +clearly--clearer than any words could have done--did he betray to +himself, to her, and to Princess Mary that he loved her. + +"No, it's only the unexpectedness of it," thought Pierre. But as +soon as he tried to continue the conversation he had begun with +Princess Mary he again glanced at Natasha, and a still-deeper flush +suffused his face and a still-stronger agitation of mingled joy and +fear seized his soul. He became confused in his speech and stopped +in the middle of what he was saying. + +Pierre had failed to notice Natasha because he did not at all expect +to see her there, but he had failed to recognize her because the +change in her since he last saw her was immense. She had grown thin +and pale, but that was not what made her unrecognizable; she was +unrecognizable at the moment he entered because on that face whose +eyes had always shone with a suppressed smile of the joy of life, +now when he first entered and glanced at her there was not the least +shadow of a smile: only her eyes were kindly attentive and sadly +interrogative. + +Pierre's confusion was not reflected by any confusion on Natasha's +part, but only by the pleasure that just perceptibly lit up her +whole face. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +"She has come to stay with me," said Princess Mary. "The count and +countess will be here in a few days. The countess is in a dreadful +state; but it was necessary for Natasha herself to see a doctor. +They insisted on her coming with me." + +"Yes, is there a family free from sorrow now?" said Pierre, +addressing Natasha. "You know it happened the very day we were +rescued. I saw him. What a delightful boy he was!" + +Natasha looked at him, and by way of answer to his words her eyes +widened and lit up. + +"What can one say or think of as a consolation?" said Pierre. +"Nothing! Why had such a splendid boy, so full of life, to die?" + +"Yes, in these days it would be hard to live without faith..." +remarked Princess Mary. + +"Yes, yes, that is really true," Pierre hastily interrupted her. + +"Why is it true?" Natasha asked, looking attentively into Pierre's +eyes. + +"How can you ask why?" said Princess Mary. "The thought alone of +what awaits..." + +Natasha without waiting for Princess Mary to finish again looked +inquiringly at Pierre. + +"And because," Pierre continued, "only one who believes that there +is a God ruling us can bear a loss such as hers and... yours." + +Natasha had already opened her mouth to speak but suddenly +stopped. Pierre hurriedly turned away from her and again addressed +Princess Mary, asking about his friend's last days. + +Pierre's confusion had now almost vanished, but at the same time +he felt that his freedom had also completely gone. He felt that +there was now a judge of his every word and action whose judgment +mattered more to him than that of all the rest of the world. As he +spoke now he was considering what impression his words would make on +Natasha. He did not purposely say things to please her, but whatever +he was saying he regarded from her standpoint. + +Princess Mary--reluctantly as is usual in such cases--began +telling of the condition in which she had found Prince Andrew. But +Pierre's face quivering with emotion, his questions and his eager +restless expression, gradually compelled her to go into details +which she feared to recall for her own sake. + +"Yes, yes, and so...?" Pierre kept saying as he leaned toward her +with his whole body and eagerly listened to her story. "Yes, yes... so +he grew tranquil and softened? With all his soul he had always +sought one thing--to be perfectly good--so he could not be afraid of +death. The faults he had--if he had any--were not of his making. So he +did soften?... What a happy thing that he saw you again," he added, +suddenly turning to Natasha and looking at her with eyes full of +tears. + +Natasha's face twitched. She frowned and lowered her eyes for a +moment. She hesitated for an instant whether to speak or not. + +"Yes, that was happiness," she then said in her quiet voice with its +deep chest notes. "For me it certainly was happiness." She paused. +"And he... he... he said he was wishing for it at the very moment I +entered the room...." + +Natasha's voice broke. She blushed, pressed her clasped hands on her +knees, and then controlling herself with an evident effort lifted +her head and began to speak rapidly. + +"We knew nothing of it when we started from Moscow. I did not dare +to ask about him. Then suddenly Sonya told me he was traveling with +us. I had no idea and could not imagine what state he was in, all I +wanted was to see him and be with him," she said, trembling, and +breathing quickly. + +And not letting them interrupt her she went on to tell what she +had never yet mentioned to anyone--all she had lived through during +those three weeks of their journey and life at Yaroslavl. + +Pierre listened to her with lips parted and eyes fixed upon her full +of tears. As he listened he did not think of Prince Andrew, nor of +death, nor of what she was telling. He listened to her and felt only +pity for her, for what she was suffering now while she was speaking. + +Princess Mary, frowning in her effort to hold back her tears, sat +beside Natasha, and heard for the first time the story of those last +days of her brother's and Natasha's love. + +Evidently Natasha needed to tell that painful yet joyful tale. + +She spoke, mingling most trifling details with the intimate +secrets of her soul, and it seemed as if she could never finish. +Several times she repeated the same thing twice. + +Dessalles' voice was heard outside the door asking whether little +Nicholas might come in to say good night. + +"Well, that's all--everything," said Natasha. + +She got up quickly just as Nicholas entered, almost ran to the +door which was hidden by curtains, struck her head against it, and +rushed from the room with a moan either of pain or sorrow. + +Pierre gazed at the door through which she had disappeared and did +not understand why he suddenly felt all alone in the world. + +Princess Mary roused him from his abstraction by drawing his +attention to her nephew who had entered the room. + +At that moment of emotional tenderness young Nicholas' face, which +resembled his father's, affected Pierre so much that when he had +kissed the boy he got up quickly, took out his handkerchief, and +went to the window. He wished to take leave of Princess Mary, but +she would not let him go. + +"No, Natasha and I sometimes don't go to sleep till after two, so +please don't go. I will order supper. Go downstairs, we will come +immediately." + +Before Pierre left the room Princess Mary told him: "This is the +first time she has talked of him like that." + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Pierre was shown into the large, brightly lit dining room; a few +minutes later he heard footsteps and Princess Mary entered with +Natasha. Natasha was calm, though a severe and grave expression had +again settled on her face. They all three of them now experienced that +feeling of awkwardness which usually follows after a serious and +heartfelt talk. It is impossible to go back to the same +conversation, to talk of trifles is awkward, and yet the desire to +speak is there and silence seems like affectation. They went +silently to table. The footmen drew back the chairs and pushed them up +again. Pierre unfolded his cold table napkin and, resolving to break +the silence, looked at Natasha and at Princess Mary. They had +evidently both formed the same resolution; the eyes of both shone with +satisfaction and a confession that besides sorrow life also has joy. + +"Do you take vodka, Count?" asked Princess Mary, and those words +suddenly banished the shadows of the past. "Now tell us about +yourself," said she. "One hears such improbable wonders about you." + +"Yes," replied Pierre with the smile of mild irony now habitual to +him. "They even tell me wonders I myself never dreamed of! Mary +Abramovna invited me to her house and kept telling me what had +happened, or ought to have happened, to me. Stepan Stepanych also +instructed me how I ought to tell of my experiences. In general I have +noticed that it is very easy to be an interesting man (I am an +interesting man now); people invite me out and tell me all about +myself." + +Natasha smiled and was on the point of speaking. + +"We have been told," Princess Mary interrupted her, "that you lost +two millions in Moscow. Is that true?" + +"But I am three times as rich as before," returned Pierre. + +Though the position was now altered by his decision to pay his +wife's debts and to rebuild his houses, Pierre still maintained that +he had become three times as rich as before. + +"What I have certainly gained is freedom," he began seriously, but +did not continue, noticing that this theme was too egotistic. + +"And are you building?" + +"Yes. Savelich says I must!" + +"Tell me, you did not know of the countess' death when you decided +to remain in Moscow?" asked Princess Mary and immediately blushed, +noticing that her question, following his mention of freedom, ascribed +to his words a meaning he had perhaps not intended. + +"No," answered Pierre, evidently not considering awkward the meaning +Princess Mary had given to his words. "I heard of it in Orel and you +cannot imagine how it shocked me. We were not an exemplary couple," he +added quickly, glancing at Natasha and noticing on her face +curiosity as to how he would speak of his wife, "but her death shocked +me terribly. When two people quarrel they are always both in fault, +and one's own guilt suddenly becomes terribly serious when the other +is no longer alive. And then such a death... without friends and +without consolation! I am very, very sorry for her," he concluded, and +was pleased to notice a look of glad approval on Natasha's face. + +"Yes, and so you are once more an eligible bachelor," said +Princess Mary. + +Pierre suddenly flushed crimson and for a long time tried not to +look at Natasha. When he ventured to glance her way again her face was +cold, stern, and he fancied even contemptuous. + +"And did you really see and speak to Napoleon, as we have been +told?" said Princess Mary. + +Pierre laughed. + +"No, not once! Everybody seems to imagine that being taken +prisoner means being Napoleon's guest. Not only did I never see him +but I heard nothing about him--I was in much lower company!" + +Supper was over, and Pierre who at first declined to speak about his +captivity was gradually led on to do so. + +"But it's true that you remained in Moscow to kill Napoleon?" +Natasha asked with a slight smile. "I guessed it then when we met at +the Sukharev tower, do you remember?" + +Pierre admitted that it was true, and from that was gradually led by +Princess Mary's questions and especially by Natasha's into giving a +detailed account of his adventures. + +At first he spoke with the amused and mild irony now customary +with him toward everybody and especially toward himself, but when he +came to describe the horrors and sufferings he had witnessed he was +unconsciously carried away and began speaking with the suppressed +emotion of a man re-experiencing in recollection strong impressions he +has lived through. + +Princess Mary with a gentle smile looked now at Pierre and now at +Natasha. In the whole narrative she saw only Pierre and his +goodness. Natasha, leaning on her elbow, the expression of her face +constantly changing with the narrative, watched Pierre with an +attention that never wandered--evidently herself experiencing all that +he described. Not only her look, but her exclamations and the brief +questions she put, showed Pierre that she understood just what he +wished to convey. It was clear that she understood not only what he +said but also what he wished to, but could not, express in words. +The account Pierre gave of the incident with the child and the woman +for protecting whom he was arrested was this: "It was an awful +sight--children abandoned, some in the flames... One was snatched +out before my eyes... and there were women who had their things +snatched off and their earrings torn out..." he flushed and grew +confused. "Then a patrol arrived and all the men--all those who were +not looting, that is--were arrested, and I among them." + +"I am sure you're not telling us everything; I am sure you did +something..." said Natasha and pausing added, "something fine?" + +Pierre continued. When he spoke of the execution he wanted to pass +over the horrible details, but Natasha insisted that he should not +omit anything. + +Pierre began to tell about Karataev, but paused. By this time he had +risen from the table and was pacing the room, Natasha following him +with her eyes. Then he added: + +"No, you can't understand what I learned from that illiterate man- +that simple fellow." + +"Yes, yes, go on!" said Natasha. "Where is he?" + +"They killed him almost before my eyes." + +And Pierre, his voice trembling continually, went on to tell of +the last days of their retreat, of Karataev's illness and his death. + +He told of his adventures as he had never yet recalled them. He now, +as it were, saw a new meaning in all he had gone through. Now that +he was telling it all to Natasha he experienced that pleasure which +a man has when women listen to him--not clever women who when +listening either try to remember what they hear to enrich their +minds and when opportunity offers to retell it, or who wish to adopt +it to some thought of their own and promptly contribute their own +clever comments prepared in their little mental workshop--but the +pleasure given by real women gifted with a capacity to select and +absorb the very best a man shows of himself. Natasha without knowing +it was all attention: she did not lose a word, no single quiver in +Pierre's voice, no look, no twitch of a muscle in his face, nor a +single gesture. She caught the unfinished word in its flight and +took it straight into her open heart, divining the secret meaning of +all Pierre's mental travail. + +Princess Mary understood his story and sympathized with him, but she +now saw something else that absorbed all her attention. She saw the +possibility of love and happiness between Natasha and Pierre, and +the first thought of this filled her heart with gladness. + +It was three o'clock in the morning. The footmen came in with sad +and stern faces to change the candles, but no one noticed them. + +Pierre finished his story. Natasha continued to look at him intently +with bright, attentive, and animated eyes, as if trying to +understand something more which he had perhaps left untold. Pierre +in shamefaced and happy confusion glanced occasionally at her, and +tried to think what to say next to introduce a fresh subject. Princess +Mary was silent. It occurred to none of them that it was three o'clock +and time to go to bed. + +"People speak of misfortunes and sufferings," remarked Pierre, +"but if at this moment I were asked: 'Would you rather be what you +were before you were taken prisoner, or go through all this again?' +then for heaven's sake let me again have captivity and horseflesh! +We imagine that when we are thrown out of our usual ruts all is +lost, but it is only then that what is new and good begins. While +there is life there is happiness. There is much, much before us. I say +this to you," he added, turning to Natasha. + +"Yes, yes," she said, answering something quite different. "I too +should wish nothing but to relive it all from the beginning." + +Pierre looked intently at her. + +"Yes, and nothing more." said Natasha. + +"It's not true, not true!" cried Pierre. "I am not to blame for +being alive and wishing to live--nor you either." + +Suddenly Natasha bent her head, covered her face with her hands, and +began to cry. + +"What is it, Natasha?" said Princess Mary. + +"Nothing, nothing." She smiled at Pierre through her tears. "Good +night! It is time for bed." + +Pierre rose and took his leave. + + +Princess Mary and Natasha met as usual in the bedroom. They talked +of what Pierre had told them. Princess Mary did not express her +opinion of Pierre nor did Natasha speak of him. + +"Well, good night, Mary!" said Natasha. "Do you know, I am often +afraid that by not speaking of him" (she meant Prince Andrew) "for +fear of not doing justice to our feelings, we forget him." + +Princess Mary sighed deeply and thereby acknowledged the justice +of Natasha's remark, but she did not express agreement in words. + +"Is it possible to forget?" said she. + +"It did me so much good to tell all about it today. It was hard +and painful, but good, very good!" said Natasha. "I am sure he +really loved him. That is why I told him... Was it all right?" she +added, suddenly blushing. + +"To tell Pierre? Oh, yes. What a splendid man he is!" said +Princess Mary. + +"Do you know, Mary..." Natasha suddenly said with a mischievous +smile such as Princess Mary had not seen on her face for a long +time, "he has somehow grown so clean, smooth, and fresh--as if he +had just come out of a Russian bath; do you understand? Out of a moral +bath. Isn't it true?" + +"Yes," replied Princess Mary. "He has greatly improved." + +"With a short coat and his hair cropped; just as if, well, just as +if he had come straight from the bath... Papa used to..." + +"I understand why he" (Prince Andrew) "liked no one so much as him," +said Princess Mary. + +"Yes, and yet he is quite different. They say men are friends when +they are quite different. That must be true. Really he is quite unlike +him--in everything." + +"Yes, but he's wonderful." + +"Well, good night," said Natasha. + +And the same mischievous smile lingered for a long time on her +face as if it had been forgotten there. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +It was a long time before Pierre could fall asleep that night. He +paced up and down his room, now turning his thoughts on a difficult +problem and frowning, now suddenly shrugging his shoulders and +wincing, and now smiling happily. + +He was thinking of Prince Andrew, of Natasha, and of their love, +at one moment jealous of her past, then reproaching himself for that +feeling. It was already six in the morning and he still paced up and +down the room. + +"Well, what's to be done if it cannot be avoided? What's to be done? +Evidently it has to be so," said he to himself, and hastily undressing +he got into bed, happy and agitated but free from hesitation or +indecision. + +"Strange and impossible as such happiness seems, I must do +everything that she and I may be man and wife," he told himself. + +A few days previously Pierre had decided to go to Petersburg on +the Friday. When he awoke on the Thursday, Savelich came to ask him +about packing for the journey. + +"What, to Petersburg? What is Petersburg? Who is there in +Petersburg?" he asked involuntarily, though only to himself. "Oh, yes, +long ago before this happened I did for some reason mean to go to +Petersburg," he reflected. "Why? But perhaps I shall go. What a good +fellow he is and how attentive, and how he remembers everything," he +thought, looking at Savelich's old face, "and what a pleasant smile he +has!" + +"Well, Savelich, do you still not wish to accept your freedom?" +Pierre asked him. + +"What's the good of freedom to me, your excellency? We lived under +the late count--the kingdom of heaven be his!--and we have lived under +you too, without ever being wronged." + +"And your children?" + +"The children will live just the same. With such masters one can +live." + +"But what about my heirs?" said Pierre. "Supposing I suddenly +marry... it might happen," he added with an involuntary smile. + +"If I may take the liberty, your excellency, it would be a good +thing." + +"How easy he thinks it," thought Pierre. "He doesn't know how +terrible it is and how dangerous. Too soon or too late... it is +terrible!" + +"So what are your orders? Are you starting tomorrow?" asked +Savelich. + +"No, I'll put it off for a bit. I'll tell you later. You must +forgive the trouble I have put you to," said Pierre, and seeing +Savelich smile, he thought: "But how strange it is that he should +not know that now there is no Petersburg for me, and that that must be +settled first of all! But probably he knows it well enough and is only +pretending. Shall I have a talk with him and see what he thinks?" +Pierre reflected. "No, another time." + +At breakfast Pierre told the princess, his cousin, that he had +been to see Princess Mary the day before and had there met--"Whom do +you think? Natasha Rostova!" + +The princess seemed to see nothing more extraordinary in that than +if he had seen Anna Semenovna. + +"Do you know her?" asked Pierre. + +"I have seen the princess," she replied. "I heard that they were +arranging a match for her with young Rostov. It would be a very good +thing for the Rostovs, they are said to be utterly ruined." + +"No; I mean do you know Natasha Rostova?" + +"I heard about that affair of hers at the time. It was a great +pity." + +"No, she either doesn't understand or is pretending," thought +Pierre. "Better not say anything to her either." + +The princess too had prepared provisions for Pierre's journey. + +"How kind they all are," thought Pierre. "What is surprising is that +they should trouble about these things now when it can no longer be of +interest to them. And all for me!" + +On the same day the Chief of Police came to Pierre, inviting him +to send a representative to the Faceted Palace to recover things +that were to be returned to their owners that day. + +"And this man too," thought Pierre, looking into the face of the +Chief of Police. "What a fine, good-looking officer and how kind. +Fancy bothering about such trifies now! And they actually say he is +not honest and takes bribes. What nonsense! Besides, why shouldn't +he take bribes? That's the way he was brought up, and everybody does +it. But what a kind, pleasant face and how he smiles as he looks at +me." + +Pierre went to Princess Mary's to dinner. + +As he drove through the streets past the houses that had been burned +down, he was surprised by the beauty of those ruins. The +picturesqueness of the chimney stacks and tumble-down walls of the +burned-out quarters of the town, stretching out and concealing one +another, reminded him of the Rhine and the Colosseum. The cabmen he +met and their passengers, the carpenters cutting the timber for new +houses with axes, the women hawkers, and the shopkeepers, all looked +at him with cheerful beaming eyes that seemed to say: "Ah, there he +is! Let's see what will come of it!" + +At the entrance to Princess Mary's house Pierre felt doubtful +whether he had really been there the night before and really seen +Natasha and talked to her. "Perhaps I imagined it; perhaps I shall +go in and find no one there." But he had hardly entered the room +before he felt her presence with his whole being by the loss of his +sense of freedom. She was in the same black dress with soft folds +and her hair was done the same way as the day before, yet she was +quite different. Had she been like this when he entered the day before +he could not for a moment have failed to recognize her. + +She was as he had known her almost as a child and later on as Prince +Andrew's fiancee. A bright questioning light shone in her eyes, and on +her face was a friendly and strangely roguish expression. + +Pierre dined with them and would have spent the whole evening there, +but Princess Mary was going to vespers and Pierre left the house +with her. + +Next day he came early, dined, and stayed the whole evening. +Though Princess Mary and Natasha were evidently glad to see their +visitor and though all Pierre's interest was now centered in that +house, by the evening they had talked over everything and the +conversation passed from one trivial topic to another and repeatedly +broke off. He stayed so long that Princess Mary and Natasha +exchanged glances, evidently wondering when he would go. Pierre +noticed this but could not go. He felt uneasy and embarrassed, but sat +on because he simply could not get up and take his leave. + +Princess Mary, foreseeing no end to this, rose first, and +complaining of a headache began to say good night. + +"So you are going to Petersburg tomorrow?" she asked. + +"No, I am not going," Pierre replied hastily, in a surprised tone +and as though offended. "Yes... no... to Petersburg? Tomorrow--but I +won't say good-by yet. I will call round in case you have any +commissions for me," said he, standing before Princess Mary and +turning red, but not taking his departure. + +Natasha gave him her hand and went out. Princess Mary on the other +hand instead of going away sank into an armchair, and looked sternly +and intently at him with her deep, radiant eyes. The weariness she had +plainly shown before had now quite passed off. With a deep and +long-drawn sigh she seemed to be prepared for a lengthy talk. + +When Natasha left the room Pierre's confusion and awkwardness +immediately vanished and were replaced by eager excitement. He quickly +moved an armchair toward Princess Mary. + +"Yes, I wanted to tell you," said he, answering her look as if she +had spoken. "Princess, help me! What am I to do? Can I hope? Princess, +my dear friend, listen! I know it all. I know I am not worthy of +her, I know it's impossible to speak of it now. But I want to be a +brother to her. No, not that, I don't, I can't..." + +He paused and rubbed his face and eyes with his hands. + +"Well," he went on with an evident effort at self-control and +coherence. "I don't know when I began to love her, but I have loved +her and her alone all my life, and I love her so that I cannot imagine +life without her. I cannot propose to her at present, but the +thought that perhaps she might someday be my wife and that I may be +missing that possibility... that possibility... is terrible. Tell +me, can I hope? Tell me what I am to do, dear princess!" he added +after a pause, and touched her hand as she did not reply. + +"I am thinking of what you have told me," answered Princess Mary. +"This is what I will say. You are right that to speak to her of love +at present..." + +Princess Mary stopped. She was going to say that to speak of love +was impossible, but she stopped because she had seen by the sudden +change in Natasha two days before that she would not only not be +hurt if Pierre spoke of his love, but that it was the very thing she +wished for. + +"To speak to her now wouldn't do," said the princess all the same. + +"But what am I to do?" + +"Leave it to me," said Princess Mary. "I know..." + +Pierre was looking into Princess Mary's eyes. + +"Well?... Well?..." he said. + +"I know that she loves... will love you," Princess Mary corrected +herself. + +Before her words were out, Pierre had sprung up and with a +frightened expression seized Princess Mary's hand. + +"What makes you think so? You think I may hope? You think...?" + +"Yes, I think so," said Princess Mary with a smile. "Write to her +parents, and leave it to me. I will tell her when I can. I wish it +to happen and my heart tells me it will." + +"No, it cannot be! How happy I am! But it can't be.... How happy I +am! No, it can't be!" Pierre kept saying as he kissed Princess +Mary's hands. + +"Go to Petersburg, that will be best. And I will write to you," +she said. + +"To Petersburg? Go there? Very well, I'll go. But I may come again +tomorrow?" + +Next day Pierre came to say good-by. Natasha was less animated +than she had been the day before; but that day as he looked at her +Pierre sometimes felt as if he was vanishing and that neither he nor +she existed any longer, that nothing existed but happiness. "Is it +possible? No, it can't be," he told himself at every look, gesture, +and word that filled his soul with joy. + +When on saying good-by he took her thin, slender hand, he could +not help holding it a little longer in his own. + +"Is it possible that this hand, that face, those eyes, all this +treasure of feminine charm so strange to me now, is it possible that +it will one day be mine forever, as familiar to me as I am to +myself?... No, that's impossible!..." + +"Good-by, Count," she said aloud. "I shall look forward very much to +your return," she added in a whisper. + +And these simple words, her look, and the expression on her face +which accompanied them, formed for two months the subject of +inexhaustible memories, interpretations, and happy meditations for +Pierre. "'I shall look forward very much to your return....' Yes, yes, +how did she say it? Yes, 'I shall look forward very much to your +return.' Oh, how happy I am! What is happening to me? How happy I am!" +said Pierre to himself. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +There was nothing in Pierre's soul now at all like what had troubled +it during his courtship of Helene. + +He did not repeat to himself with a sickening feeling of shame the +words he had spoken, or say: "Oh, why did I not say that?" and, +"Whatever made me say 'Je vous aime'?" On the contrary, he now +repeated in imagination every word that he or Natasha had spoken and +pictured every detail of her face and smile, and did not wish to +diminish or add anything, but only to repeat it again and again. There +was now not a shadow of doubt in his mind as to whether what he had +undertaken was right or wrong. Only one terrible doubt sometimes +crossed his mind: "Wasn't it all a dream? Isn't Princess Mary +mistaken? Am I not too conceited and self-confident? I believe all +this--and suddenly Princess Mary will tell her, and she will be sure +to smile and say: 'How strange! He must be deluding himself. Doesn't +he know that he is a man, just a man, while I...? I am something +altogether different and higher.'" + +That was the only doubt often troubling Pierre. He did not now +make any plans. The happiness before him appeared so inconceivable +that if only he could attain it, it would be the end of all things. +Everything ended with that. + +A joyful, unexpected frenzy, of which he had thought himself +incapable, possessed him. The whole meaning of life--not for him alone +but for the whole world--seemed to him centered in his love and the +possibility of being loved by her. At times everybody seemed to him to +be occupied with one thing only--his future happiness. Sometimes it +seemed to him that other people were all as pleased as he was +himself and merely tried to hide that pleasure by pretending to be +busy with other interests. In every word and gesture he saw +allusions to his happiness. He often surprised those he met by his +significantly happy looks and smiles which seemed to express a +secret understanding between him and them. And when he realized that +people might not be aware of his happiness, he pitied them with his +whole heart and felt a desire somehow to explain to them that all that +occupied them was a mere frivolous trifle unworthy of attention. + +When it was suggested to him that he should enter the civil service, +or when the war or any general political affairs were discussed on the +assumption that everybody's welfare depended on this or that issue +of events, he would listen with a mild and pitying smile and +surprise people by his strange comments. But at this time he saw +everybody--both those who, as he imagined, understood the real meaning +of life (that is, what he was feeling) and those unfortunates who +evidently did not understand it--in the bright light of the emotion +that shone within himself, and at once without any effort saw in +everyone he met everything that was good and worthy of being loved. + +When dealing with the affairs and papers of his dead wife, her +memory aroused in him no feeling but pity that she had not known the +bliss he now knew. Prince Vasili, who having obtained a new post and +some fresh decorations was particularly proud at this time, seemed +to him a pathetic, kindly old man much to be pitied. + +Often in afterlife Pierre recalled this period of blissful insanity. +All the views he formed of men and circumstances at this time remained +true for him always. He not only did not renounce them subsequently, +but when he was in doubt or inwardly at variance, he referred to the +views he had held at this time of his madness and they always proved +correct. + +"I may have appeared strange and queer then," he thought, "but I was +not so mad as I seemed. On the contrary I was then wiser and had +more insight than at any other time, and understood all that is +worth understanding in life, because... because I was happy." + +Pierre's insanity consisted in not waiting, as he used to do, to +discover personal attributes which he termed "good qualities" in +people before loving them; his heart was now overflowing with love, +and by loving people without cause he discovered indubitable causes +for loving them. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +After Pierre's departure that first evening, when Natasha had said +to Princess Mary with a gaily mocking smile: "He looks just, yes, just +as if he had come out of a Russian bath--in a short coat and with +his hair cropped," something hidden and unknown to herself, but +irrepressible, awoke in Natasha's soul. + +Everything: her face, walk, look, and voice, was suddenly altered. +To her own surprise a power of life and hope of happiness rose to +the surface and demanded satisfaction. From that evening she seemed to +have forgotten all that had happened to her. She no longer +complained of her position, did not say a word about the past, and +no longer feared to make happy plans for the future. She spoke +little of Pierre, but when Princess Mary mentioned him a +long-extinguished light once more kindled in her eyes and her lips +curved with a strange smile. + +The change that took place in Natasha at first surprised Princess +Mary; but when she understood its meaning it grieved her. "Can she +have loved my brother so little as to be able to forget him so +soon?" she thought when she reflected on the change. But when she +was with Natasha she was not vexed with her and did not reproach +her. The reawakened power of life that had seized Natasha was so +evidently irrepressible and unexpected by her that in her presence +Princess Mary felt that she had no right to reproach her even in her +heart. + + Natasha gave herself up so fully and frankly to this new feeling +that she did not try to hide the fact that she was no longer sad, +but bright and cheerful. + +When Princess Mary returned to her room after her nocturnal talk +with Pierre, Natasha met her on the threshold. + +"He has spoken? Yes? He has spoken?" she repeated. + +And a joyful yet pathetic expression which seemed to beg forgiveness +for her joy settled on Natasha's face. + +"I wanted to listen at the door, but I knew you would tell me." + +Understandable and touching as the look with which Natasha gazed +at her seemed to Princess Mary, and sorry as she was to see her +agitation, these words pained her for a moment. She remembered her +brother and his love. + +"But what's to be done? She can't help it," thought the princess. + +And with a sad and rather stern look she told Natasha all that +Pierre had said. On hearing that he was going to Petersburg Natasha +was astounded. + +"To Petersburg!" she repeated as if unable to understand. + +But noticing the grieved expression on Princess Mary's face she +guessed the reason of that sadness and suddenly began to cry. + +"Mary," said she, "tell me what I should do! I am afraid of being +bad. Whatever you tell me, I will do. Tell me...." + +"You love him?" + +"Yes," whispered Natasha. + +"Then why are you crying? I am happy for your sake," said Princess +Mary, who because of those tears quite forgave Natasha's joy. + +"It won't be just yet--someday. Think what fun it will be when I +am his wife and you marry Nicholas!" + +"Natasha, I have asked you not to speak of that. Let us talk about +you." + +They were silent awhile. + +"But why go to Petersburg?" Natasha suddenly asked, and hastily +replied to her own question. "But no, no, he must... Yes, Mary, He +must...." + + + + + + +FIRST EPILOGUE: 1813 --20 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Seven years had passed. The storm-tossed sea of European history had +subsided within its shores and seemed to have become calm. But the +mysterious forces that move humanity (mysterious because the laws of +their motion are unknown to us) continued to operate. + +Though the surface of the sea of history seemed motionless, the +movement of humanity went on as unceasingly as the flow of time. +Various groups of people formed and dissolved, the coming formation +and dissolution of kingdoms and displacement of peoples was in +course of preparation. + +The sea of history was not driven spasmodically from shore to +shore as previously. It was seething in its depths. Historic figures +were not borne by the waves from one shore to another as before. +They now seemed to rotate on one spot. The historical figures at the +head of armies, who formerly reflected the movement of the masses by +ordering wars, campaigns, and battles, now reflected the restless +movement by political and diplomatic combinations, laws, and treaties. + +The historians call this activity of the historical figures "the +reaction." + +In dealing with this period they sternly condemn the historical +personages who, in their opinion, caused what they describe as the +reaction. All the well-known people of that period, from Alexander and +Napoleon to Madame de Stael, Photius, Schelling, Fichte, +Chateaubriand, and the rest, pass before their stern judgment seat and +are acquitted or condemned according to whether they conduced to +progress or to reaction. + +According to their accounts a reaction took place at that time in +Russia also, and the chief culprit was Alexander I, the same man who +according to them was the chief cause of the liberal movement at the +commencement of his reign, being the savior of Russia. + +There is no one in Russian literature now, from schoolboy essayist +to learned historian, who does not throw his little stone at Alexander +for things he did wrong at this period of his reign. + +"He ought to have acted in this way and in that way. In this case he +did well and in that case badly. He behaved admirably at the beginning +of his reign and during 1812, but acted badly by giving a constitution +to Poland, forming the Holy Alliance, entrusting power to Arakcheev, +favoring Golitsyn and mysticism, and afterwards Shishkov and +Photius. He also acted badly by concerning himself with the active +army and disbanding the Semenov regiment." + +It would take a dozen pages to enumerate all the reproaches the +historians address to him, based on their knowledge of what is good +for humanity. + +What do these reproaches mean? + +Do not the very actions for which the historians praise Alexander +I (the liberal attempts at the beginning of his reign, his struggle +with Napoleon, the firmness he displayed in 1812 and the campaign of +1813) flow from the same sources--the circumstances of his birth, +education, and life--that made his personality what it was and from +which the actions for which they blame him (the Holy Alliance, the +restoration of Poland, and the reaction of 1820 and later) also +flowed? + +In what does the substance of those reproaches lie? + +It lies in the fact that an historic character like Alexander I, +standing on the highest possible pinnacle of human power with the +blinding light of history focused upon him; a character exposed to +those strongest of all influences: the intrigues, flattery, and +self-deception inseparable from power; a character who at every moment +of his life felt a responsibility for all that was happening in +Europe; and not a fictitious but a live character who like every man +had his personal habits, passions, and impulses toward goodness, +beauty, and truth--that this character--though not lacking in virtue +(the historians do not accuse him of that)--had not the same +conception of the welfare of humanity fifty years ago as a present-day +professor who from his youth upwards has been occupied with +learning: that is, with books and lectures and with taking notes +from them. + +But even if we assume that fifty years ago Alexander I was +mistaken in his view of what was good for the people, we must +inevitably assume that the historian who judges Alexander will also +after the lapse of some time turn out to be mistaken in his view of +what is good for humanity. This assumption is all the more natural and +inevitable because, watching the movement of history, we see that +every year and with each new writer, opinion as to what is good for +mankind changes; so that what once seemed good, ten years later +seems bad, and vice versa. And what is more, we find at one and the +same time quite contradictory views as to what is bad and what is good +in history: some people regard giving a constitution to Poland and +forming the Holy Alliance as praiseworthy in Alexander, while others +regard it as blameworthy. + +The activity of Alexander or of Napoleon cannot be called useful +or harmful, for it is impossible to say for what it was useful or +harmful. If that activity displeases somebody, this is only because it +does not agree with his limited understanding of what is good. Whether +the preservation of my father's house in Moscow, or the glory of the +Russian arms, or the prosperity of the Petersburg and other +universities, or the freedom of Poland or the greatness of Russia, +or the balance of power in Europe, or a certain kind of European +culture called "progress" appear to me to be good or bad, I must admit +that besides these things the action of every historic character has +other more general purposes inaccessible to me. + +But let us assume that what is called science can harmonize all +contradictions and possesses an unchanging standard of good and bad by +which to try historic characters and events; let us say that Alexander +could have done everything differently; let us say that with +guidance from those who blame him and who profess to know the ultimate +aim of the movement of humanity, he might have arranged matters +according to the program his present accusers would have given him--of +nationality, freedom, equality, and progress (these, I think, cover +the ground). Let us assume that this program was possible and had then +been formulated, and that Alexander had acted on it. What would then +have become of the activity of all those who opposed the tendency that +then prevailed in the government--an activity that in the opinion of +the historians was good and beneficent? Their activity would not +have existed: there would have been no life, there would have been +nothing. + +If we admit that human life can be ruled by reason, the +possibility of life is destroyed. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +If we assume as the historians do that great men lead humanity to +the attainment of certain ends--the greatness of Russia or of +France, the balance of power in Europe, the diffusion of the ideas +of the Revolution general progress or anything else--then it is +impossible to explain the facts of history without introducing the +conceptions of chance and genius. + +If the aim of the European wars at the beginning of the nineteenth +century had been the aggrandizement of Russia, that aim might have +been accomplished without all the preceding wars and without the +invasion. If the aim was the aggrandizement of France, that might have +been attained without the Revolution and without the Empire. If the +aim was the dissemination of ideas, the printing press could have +accomplished that much better than warfare. If the aim was the +progress of civilization, it is easy to see that there are other +ways of diffusing civilization more expedient than by the +destruction of wealth and of human lives. + +Why did it happen in this and not in some other way? + +Because it happened so! "Chance created the situation; genius +utilized it," says history. + +But what is chance? What is genius? + +The words chance and genius do not denote any really existing +thing and therefore cannot be defined. Those words only denote a +certain stage of understanding of phenomena. I do not know why a +certain event occurs; I think that I cannot know it; so I do not try +to know it and I talk about chance. I see a force producing effects +beyond the scope of ordinary human agencies; I do not understand why +this occurs and I talk of genius. + +To a herd of rams, the ram the herdsman drives each evening into a +special enclosure to feed and that becomes twice as fat as the +others must seem to be a genius. And it must appear an astonishing +conjunction of genius with a whole series of extraordinary chances +that this ram, who instead of getting into the general fold every +evening goes into a special enclosure where there are oats--that +this very ram, swelling with fat, is killed for meat. + +But the rams need only cease to suppose that all that happens to +them happens solely for the attainment of their sheepish aims; they +need only admit that what happens to them may also have purposes +beyond their ken, and they will at once perceive a unity and coherence +in what happened to the ram that was fattened. Even if they do not +know for what purpose they are fattened, they will at least know +that all that happened to the ram did not happen accidentally, and +will no longer need the conceptions of chance or genius. + +Only by renouncing our claim to discern a purpose immediately +intelligible to us, and admitting the ultimate purpose to be beyond +our ken, may we discern the sequence of experiences in the lives of +historic characters and perceive the cause of the effect they +produce (incommensurable with ordinary human capabilities), and then +the words chance and genius become superfluous. + +We need only confess that we do not know the purpose of the European +convulsions and that we know only the facts--that is, the murders, +first in France, then in Italy, in Africa, in Prussia, in Austria, +in Spain, and in Russia--and that the movements from the west to the +east and from the east to the west form the essence and purpose of +these events, and not only shall we have no need to see exceptional +ability and genius in Napoleon and Alexander, but we shall be unable +to consider them to be anything but like other men, and we shall not +be obliged to have recourse to chance for an explanation of those +small events which made these people what they were, but it will be +clear that all those small events were inevitable. + +By discarding a claim to knowledge of the ultimate purpose, we shall +clearly perceive that just as one cannot imagine a blossom or seed for +any single plant better suited to it than those it produces, so it +is impossible to imagine any two people more completely adapted down +to the smallest detail for the purpose they had to fulfill, than +Napoleon and Alexander with all their antecedents. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The fundamental and essential significance of the European events of +the beginning of the nineteenth century lies in the movement of the +mass of the European peoples from west to east and afterwards from +east to west. The commencement of that movement was the movement +from west to east. For the peoples of the west to be able to make +their warlike movement to Moscow it was necessary: (1) that they +should form themselves into a military group of a size able to +endure a collision with the warlike military group of the east, (2) +that they should abandon all established traditions and customs, and +(3) that during their military movement they should have at their head +a man who could justify to himself and to them the deceptions, +robberies, and murders which would have to be committed during that +movement. + +And beginning with the French Revolution the old inadequately +large group was destroyed, as well as the old habits and traditions, +and step by step a group was formed of larger dimensions with new +customs and traditions, and a man was produced who would stand at +the head of the coming movement and bear the responsibility for all +that had to be done. + +A man without convictions, without habits, without traditions, +without a name, and not even a Frenchman, emerges--by what seem the +strangest chances--from among all the seething French parties, and +without joining any one of them is borne forward to a prominent +position. + +The ignorance of his colleagues, the weakness and insignificance +of his opponents, the frankness of his falsehoods, and the dazzling +and self-confident limitations of this man raise him to the head of +the army. The brilliant qualities of the soldiers of the army sent +to Italy, his opponents' reluctance to fight, and his own childish +audacity and self-confidence secure him military fame. Innumerable +so called chances accompany him everywhere. The disfavor into which he +falls with the rulers of France turns to his advantage. His attempts +to avoid his predestined path are unsuccessful: he is not received +into the Russian service, and the appointment he seeks in Turkey comes +to nothing. During the war in Italy he is several times on the verge +of destruction and each time is saved in an unexpected manner. Owing +to various diplomatic considerations the Russian armies--just those +which might have destroyed his prestige--do not appear upon the +scene till he is no longer there. + +On his return from Italy he finds the government in Paris in a +process of dissolution in which all those who are in it are inevitably +wiped out and destroyed. And by chance an escape from this dangerous +position presents itself in the form of an aimless and senseless +expedition to Africa. Again so-called chance accompanies him. +Impregnable Malta surrenders without a shot; his most reckless schemes +are crowned with success. The enemy's fleet, which subsequently did +not let a single boat pass, allows his entire army to elude it. In +Africa a whole series of outrages are committed against the almost +unarmed inhabitants. And the men who commit these crimes, especially +their leader, assure themselves that this is admirable, this is glory- +it resembles Caesar and Alexander the Great and is therefore good. + +This ideal of glory and grandeur--which consists not merely in +considering nothing wrong that one does but in priding oneself on +every crime one commits, ascribing to it an incomprehensible +supernatural significance--that ideal, destined to guide this man +and his associates, had scope for its development in Africa. +Whatever he does succeeds. The plague does not touch him. The +cruelty of murdering prisoners is not imputed to him as a fault. His +childishly rash, uncalled-for, and ignoble departure from Africa, +leaving his comrades in distress, is set down to his credit, and again +the enemy's fleet twice lets him slip past. When, intoxicated by the +crimes he has committed so successfully, he reaches Paris, the +dissolution of the republican government, which a year earlier might +have ruined him, has reached its extreme limit, and his presence there +now as a newcomer free from party entanglements can only serve to +exalt him--and though he himself has no plan, he is quite ready for +his new role. + +He had no plan, he was afraid of everything, but the parties +snatched at him and demanded his participation. + +He alone--with his ideal of glory and grandeur developed in Italy +and Egypt, his insane self-adulation, his boldness in crime and +frankness in lying--he alone could justify what had to be done. + +He is needed for the place that awaits him, and so almost apart from +his will and despite his indecision, his lack of a plan, and all his +mistakes, he is drawn into a conspiracy that aims at seizing power and +the conspiracy is crowned with success. + +He is pushed into a meeting of the legislature. In alarm he wishes +to flee, considering himself lost. He pretends to fall into a swoon +and says senseless things that should have ruined him. But the once +proud and shrewd rulers of France, feeling that their part is played +out, are even more bewildered than he, and do not say the words they +should have said to destroy him and retain their power. + +Chance, millions of chances, give him power, and all men as if by +agreement co-operate to confirm that power. Chance forms the +characters of the rulers of France, who submit to him; chance forms +the character of Paul I of Russia who recognizes his government; +chance contrives a plot against him which not only fails to harm him +but confirms his power. Chance puts the Duc d'Enghien in his hands and +unexpectedly causes him to kill him--thereby convincing the mob more +forcibly than in any other way that he had the right, since he had the +might. Chance contrives that though he directs all his efforts to +prepare an expedition against England (which would inevitably have +ruined him) he never carries out that intention, but unexpectedly +falls upon Mack and the Austrians, who surrender without a battle. +Chance and genius give him the victory at Austerlitz; and by chance +all men, not only the French but all Europe--except England which does +not take part in the events about to happen--despite their former +horror and detestation of his crimes, now recognize his authority, the +title he has given himself, and his ideal of grandeur and glory, which +seems excellent and reasonable to them all. + +As if measuring themselves and preparing for the coming movement, +the western forces push toward the east several times in 1805, 1806, +1807, and 1809, gaining strength and growing. In 1811 the group of +people that had formed in France unites into one group with the +peoples of Central Europe. The strength of the justification of the +man who stands at the head of the movement grows with the increased +size of the group. During the ten-year preparatory period this man had +formed relations with all the crowned heads of Europe. The discredited +rulers of the world can oppose no reasonable ideal to the insensate +Napoleonic ideal of glory and grandeur. One after another they +hasten to display their insignificance before him. The King of Prussia +sends his wife to seek the great man's mercy; the Emperor of Austria +considers it a favor that this man receives a daughter the Caesars +into his bed; the Pope, the guardian of all that the nations hold +sacred, utilizes religion for the aggrandizement of the great man. +It is not Napoleon who prepares himself for the accomplishment of +his role, so much as all those round him who prepare him to take on +himself the whole responsibility for what is happening and has to +happen. There is no step, no crime or petty fraud he commits, which in +the mouths of those around him is not at once represented as a great +deed. The most suitable fete the Germans can devise for him is a +celebration of Jena and Auerstadt. Not only is he great, but so are +his ancestors, his brothers, his stepsons, and his brothers-in-law. +Everything is done to deprive him of the remains of his reason and +to prepare him for his terrible part. And when he is ready so too +are the forces. + +The invasion pushes eastward and reaches its final goal--Moscow. +That city is taken; the Russian army suffers heavier losses than the +opposing armies had suffered in the former war from Austerlitz to +Wagram. But suddenly instead of those chances and that genius which +hitherto had so consistently led him by an uninterrupted series of +successes to the predestined goal, an innumerable sequence of +inverse chances occur--from the cold in his head at Borodino to the +sparks which set Moscow on fire, and the frosts--and instead of +genius, stupidity and immeasurable baseness become evident. + +The invaders flee, turn back, flee again, and all the chances are +now not for Napoleon but always against him. + +A countermovement is then accomplished from east to west with a +remarkable resemblance to the preceding movement from west to east. +Attempted drives from east to west--similar to the contrary +movements of 1805, 1807, and 1809--precede the great westward +movement; there is the same coalescence into a group of enormous +dimensions; the same adhesion of the people of Central Europe to the +movement; the same hesitation midway, and the same increasing rapidity +as the goal is approached. + +Paris, the ultimate goal, is reached. The Napoleonic government +and army are destroyed. Napoleon himself is no longer of any +account; all his actions are evidently pitiful and mean, but again +an inexplicable chance occurs. The allies detest Napoleon whom they +regard as the cause of their sufferings. Deprived of power and +authority, his crimes and his craft exposed, he should have appeared +to them what he appeared ten years previously and one year later--an +outlawed brigand. But by some strange chance no one perceives this. +His part is not yet ended. The man who ten years before and a year +later was considered an outlawed brigand is sent to an island two +days' sail from France, which for some reason is presented to him as +his dominion, and guards are given to him and millions of money are +paid him. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +The flood of nations begins to subside into its normal channels. The +waves of the great movement abate, and on the calm surface eddies +are formed in which float the diplomatists, who imagine that they have +caused the floods to abate. + +But the smooth sea again suddenly becomes disturbed. The +diplomatists think that their disagreements are the cause of this +fresh pressure of natural forces; they anticipate war between their +sovereigns; the position seems to them insoluble. But the wave they +feel to be rising does not come from the quarter they expect. It rises +again from the same point as before--Paris. The last backwash of the +movement from the west occurs: a backwash which serves to solve the +apparently insuperable diplomatic difficulties and ends the military +movement of that period of history. + +The man who had devastated France returns to France alone, without +any conspiracy and without soldiers. Any guard might arrest him, but +by strange chance no one does so and all rapturously greet the man +they cursed the day before and will curse again a month later. + +This man is still needed to justify the final collective act. + +That act is performed. + +The last role is played. The actor is bidden to disrobe and wash off +his powder and paint: he will not be wanted any more. + +And some years pass during which he plays a pitiful comedy to +himself in solitude on his island, justifying his actions by intrigues +and lies when the justification is no longer needed, and displaying to +the whole world what it was that people had mistaken for strength as +long as an unseen hand directed his actions. + +The manager having brought the drama to a close and stripped the +actor shows him to us. + +"See what you believed in! This is he! Do you now see that it was +not he but I who moved you?" + +But dazed by the force of the movement, it was long before people +understood this. + +Still greater coherence and inevitability is seen in the life of +Alexander I, the man who stood at the head of the countermovement from +east to west. + +What was needed for him who, overshadowing others, stood at the head +of that movement from east to west? + +What was needed was a sense of justice and a sympathy with +European affairs, but a remote sympathy not dulled by petty interests; +a moral superiority over those sovereigns of the day who co-operated +with him; a mild and attractive personality; and a personal +grievance against Napoleon. And all this was found in Alexander I; all +this had been prepared by innumerable so-called chances in his life: +his education, his early liberalism, the advisers who surrounded +him, and by Austerlitz, and Tilsit, and Erfurt. + +During the national war he was inactive because he was not needed. +But as soon as the necessity for a general European war presented +itself he appeared in his place at the given moment and, uniting the +nations of Europe, led them to the goal. + +The goal is reached. After the final war of 1815 Alexander possesses +all possible power. How does he use it? + +Alexander I--the pacifier of Europe, the man who from his early +years had striven only for his people's welfare, the originator of the +liberal innovations in his fatherland--now that he seemed to possess +the utmost power and therefore to have the possibility of bringing +about the welfare of his peoples--at the time when Napoleon in exile +was drawing up childish and mendacious plans of how he would have made +mankind happy had he retained power--Alexander I, having fulfilled his +mission and feeling the hand of God upon him, suddenly recognizes +the insignificance of that supposed power, turns away from it, and +gives it into the hands of contemptible men whom he despises, saying +only: + +"Not unto us, not unto us, but unto Thy Name!... I too am a man like +the rest of you. Let me live like a man and think of my soul and of +God." + +As the sun and each atom of ether is a sphere complete in itself, +and yet at the same time only a part of a whole too immense for man to +comprehend, so each individual has within himself his own aims and yet +has them to serve a general purpose incomprehensible to man. + +A bee settling on a flower has stung a child. And the child is +afraid of bees and declares that bees exist to sting people. A poet +admires the bee sucking from the chalice of a flower and says it +exists to suck the fragrance of flowers. A beekeeper, seeing the bee +collect pollen from flowers and carry it to the hive, says that it +exists to gather honey. Another beekeeper who has studied the life +of the hive more closely says that the bee gathers pollen dust to feed +the young bees and rear a queen, and that it exists to perpetuate +its race. A botanist notices that the bee flying with the pollen of +a male flower to a pistil fertilizes the latter, and sees in this +the purpose of the bee's existence. Another, observing the migration +of plants, notices that the bee helps in this work, and may say that +in this lies the purpose of the bee. But the ultimate purpose of the +bee is not exhausted by the first, the second, or any of the processes +the human mind can discern. The higher the human intellect rises in +the discovery of these purposes, the more obvious it becomes, that the +ultimate purpose is beyond our comprehension. + +All that is accessible to man is the relation of the life of the bee +to other manifestations of life. And so it is with the purpose of +historic characters and nations. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Natasha's wedding to Bezukhov, which took place in 1813, was the +last happy event in the family of the old Rostovs. Count Ilya Rostov +died that same year and, as always happens, after the father's death +the family group broke up. + +The events of the previous year: the burning of Moscow and the +flight from it, the death of Prince Andrew, Natasha's despair, Petya's +death, and the old countess' grief fell blow after blow on the old +count's head. He seemed to be unable to understand the meaning of +all these events, and bowed his old head in a spiritual sense as if +expecting and inviting further blows which would finish him. He seemed +now frightened and distraught and now unnaturally animated and +enterprising. + +The arrangements for Natasha's marriage occupied him for a while. He +ordered dinners and suppers and obviously tried to appear cheerful, +but his cheerfulness was not infectious as it used to be: on the +contrary it evoked the compassion of those who knew and liked him. + +When Pierre and his wife had left, he grew very quiet and began to +complain of depression. A few days later he fell ill and took to his +bed. He realized from the first that he would not get up again, +despite the doctor's encouragement. The countess passed a fortnight in +an armchair by his pillow without undressing. Every time she gave +him his medicine he sobbed and silently kissed her hand. On his last +day, sobbing, he asked her and his absent son to forgive him for +having dissipated their property--that being the chief fault of +which he was conscious. After receiving communion and unction he +quietly died; and next day a throng of acquaintances who came to pay +their last respects to the deceased filled the house rented by the +Rostovs. All these acquaintances, who had so often dined and danced at +his house and had so often laughed at him, now said, with a common +feeling of self-reproach and emotion, as if justifying themselves: +"Well, whatever he may have been he was a most worthy man. You don't +meet such men nowadays.... And which of us has not weaknesses of his +own?" + +It was just when the count's affairs had become so involved that +it was impossible to say what would happen if he lived another year +that he unexpectedly died. + +Nicholas was with the Russian army in Paris when the news of his +father's death reached him. He at once resigned his commission, and +without waiting for it to be accepted took leave of absence and went +to Moscow. The state of the count's affairs became quite obvious a +month after his death, surprising everyone by the immense total of +small debts the existence of which no one had suspected. The debts +amounted to double the value of the property. + +Friends and relations advised Nicholas to decline the inheritance. +But he regarded such a refusal as a slur on his father's memory, which +he held sacred, and therefore would not hear of refusing and +accepted the inheritance together with the obligation to pay the +debts. + +The creditors who had so long been silent, restrained by a vague but +powerful influence exerted on them while he lived by the count's +careless good nature, all proceeded to enforce their claims at once. +As always happens in such cases rivalry sprang up as to which should +get paid first, and those who like Mitenka held promissory notes given +them as presents now became the most exacting of the creditors. +Nicholas was allowed no respite and no peace, and those who had seemed +to pity the old man--the cause of their losses (if they were +losses)--now remorselessly pursued the young heir who had +voluntarily undertaken the debts and was obviously not guilty of +contracting them. + +Not one of the plans Nicholas tried succeeded; the estate was sold +by auction for half its value, and half the debts still remained +unpaid. Nicholas accepted thirty thousand rubles offered him by his +brother-in-law Bezukhov to pay off debts he regarded as genuinely +due for value received. And to avoid being imprisoned for the +remainder, as the creditors threatened, he re-entered the government +service. + +He could not rejoin the army where he would have been made colonel +at the next vacancy, for his mother now clung to him as her one hold +on life; and so despite his reluctance to remain in Moscow among people +who had known him before, and despite his abhorrence of the civil +service, he accepted a post in Moscow in that service, doffed the +uniform of which he was so fond, and moved with his mother and Sonya +to a small house on the Sivtsev Vrazhek. + +Natasha and Pierre were living in Petersburg at the time and had +no clear idea of Nicholas' circumstances. Having borrowed money from +his brother-in-law, Nicholas tried to hide his wretched condition from +him. His position was the more difficult because with his salary of +twelve hundred rubles he had not only to keep himself, his mother, and +Sonya, but had to shield his mother from knowledge of their poverty. +The countess could not conceive of life without the luxurious +conditions she had been used to from childhood and, unable to +realize how hard it was for her son, kept demanding now a carriage +(which they did not keep) to send for a friend, now some expensive +article of food for herself, or wine for her son, or money to buy a +present as a surprise for Natasha or Sonya, or for Nicholas himself. + +Sonya kept house, attended on her aunt, read to her, put up with her +whims and secret ill-will, and helped Nicholas to conceal their +poverty from the old countess. Nicholas felt himself irredeemably +indebted to Sonya for all she was doing for his mother and greatly +admired her patience and devotion, but tried to keep aloof from her. + +He seemed in his heart to reproach her for being too perfect, and +because there was nothing to reproach her with. She had all that +people are valued for, but little that could have made him love her. +He felt that the more he valued her the less he loved her. He had +taken her at her word when she wrote giving him his freedom and now +behaved as if all that had passed between them had been long forgotten +and could never in any case be renewed. + +Nicholas' position became worse and worse. The idea of putting +something aside out of his salary proved a dream. Not only did he +not save anything, but to comply with his mother's demands he even +incurred some small debts. He could see no way out of this +situation. The idea of marrying some rich woman, which was suggested +to him by his female relations, was repugnant to him. The other way +out--his mother's death--never entered his head. He wished for nothing +and hoped for nothing, and deep in his heart experienced a gloomy +and stern satisfaction in an uncomplaining endurance of his +position. He tried to avoid his old acquaintances with their +commiseration and offensive offers of assistance; he avoided all +distraction and recreation, and even at home did nothing but play +cards with his mother, pace silently up and down the room, and smoke +one pipe after another. He seemed carefully to cherish within +himself the gloomy mood which alone enabled him to endure his +position. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +At the beginning of winter Princess Mary came to Moscow. From +reports current in town she learned how the Rostovs were situated, and +how "the son has sacrificed himself for his mother," as people were +saying. + +"I never expected anything else of him," said Princess Mary to +herself, feeling a joyous sense of her love for him. Remembering her +friendly relations with all the Rostovs which had made her almost a +member of the family, she thought it her duty to go to see them. But +remembering her relations with Nicholas in Voronezh she was shy +about doing so. Making a great effort she did however go to call on +them a few weeks after her arrival in Moscow. + +Nicholas was the first to meet her, as the countess' room could only +be reached through his. But instead of being greeted with pleasure +as she had expected, at his first glance at her his face assumed a +cold, stiff, proud expression she had not seen on it before. He +inquired about her health, led the way to his mother, and having sat +there for five minutes left the room. + +When the princess came out of the countess' room Nicholas met her +again, and with marked solemnity and stiffness accompanied her to +the anteroom. To her remarks about his mother's health he made no +reply. "What's that to you? Leave me in peace," his looks seemed to +say. + +"Why does she come prowling here? What does she want? I can't bear +these ladies and all these civilities!" said he aloud in Sonya's +presence, evidently unable to repress his vexation, after the +princess' carriage had disappeared. + +"Oh, Nicholas, how can you talk like that?" cried Sonya, hardly able +to conceal her delight. "She is so kind and Mamma is so fond of her!" + +Nicholas did not reply and tried to avoid speaking of the princess +any more. But after her visit the old countess spoke of her several +times a day. + +She sang her praises, insisted that her son must call on her, +expressed a wish to see her often, but yet always became ill-humored +when she began to talk about her. + +Nicholas tried to keep silence when his mother spoke of the +princess, but his silence irritated her. + +"She is a very admirable and excellent young woman," said she, +"and you must go and call on her. You would at least be seeing +somebody, and I think it must be dull for you only seeing us." + +"But I don't in the least want to, Mamma." + +"You used to want to, and now you don't. Really I don't understand +you, my dear. One day you are dull, and the next you refuse to see +anyone." + +"But I never said I was dull." + +"Why, you said yourself you don't want even to see her. She is a +very admirable young woman and you always liked her, but now +suddenly you have got some notion or other in your head. You hide +everything from me." + +"Not at all, Mamma." + +"If I were asking you to do something disagreeable now--but I only +ask you to return a call. One would think mere politeness required +it.... Well, I have asked you, and now I won't interfere any more +since you have secrets from your mother." + +"Well, then, I'll go if you wish it." + +"It doesn't matter to me. I only wish it for your sake." + +Nicholas sighed, bit his mustache, and laid out the cards for a +patience, trying to divert his mother's attention to another topic. + +The same conversation was repeated next day and the day after, and +the day after that. + +After her visit to the Rostovs and her unexpectedly chilly reception +by Nicholas, Princess Mary confessed to herself that she had been +right in not wishing to be the first to call. + +"I expected nothing else," she told herself, calling her pride to +her aid. "I have nothing to do with him and I only wanted to see the +old lady, who was always kind to me and to whom I am under many +obligations." + +But she could not pacify herself with these reflections; a feeling +akin to remorse troubled her when she thought of her visit. Though she +had firmly resolved not to call on the Rostovs again and to forget the +whole matter, she felt herself all the time in an awkward position. +And when she asked herself what distressed her, she had to admit +that it was her relation to Rostov. His cold, polite manner did not +express his feeling for her (she knew that) but it concealed +something, and until she could discover what that something was, she +felt that she could not be at ease. + +One day in midwinter when sitting in the schoolroom attending to her +nephew's lessons, she was informed that Rostov had called. With a firm +resolution not to betray herself and not show her agitation, she +sent for Mademoiselle Bourienne and went with her to the drawing room. + +Her first glance at Nicholas' face told her that he had only come to +fulfill the demands of politeness, and she firmly resolved to maintain +the tone in which he addressed her. + +They spoke of the countess' health, of their mutual friends, of +the latest war news, and when the ten minutes required by propriety +had elapsed after which a visitor may rise, Nicholas got up to say +good-by. + +With Mademoiselle Bourienne's help the princess had maintained the +conversation very well, but at the very last moment, just when he +rose, she was so tired of talking of what did not interest her, and +her mind was so full of the question why she alone was granted so +little happiness in life, that in a fit of absent-mindedness she sat +still, her luminous eyes gazing fixedly before her, not noticing +that he had risen. + +Nicholas glanced at her and, wishing to appear not to notice her +abstraction, made some remark to Mademoiselle Bourienne and then again +looked at the princess. She still sat motionless with a look of +suffering on her gentle face. He suddenly felt sorry for her and was +vaguely conscious that he might be the cause of the sadness her face +expressed. He wished to help her and say something pleasant, but could +think of nothing to say. + +"Good-by, Princess!" said he. + +She started, flushed, and sighed deeply. + +"Oh, I beg your pardon," she said as if waking up. "Are you going +already, Count? Well then, good-by! Oh, but the cushion for the +countess!" + +"Wait a moment, I'll fetch it," said Mademoiselle Bourienne, and she +left the room. + +They both sat silent, with an occasional glance at one another. + +"Yes, Princess," said Nicholas at last with a sad smile, "it doesn't +seem long ago since we first met at Bogucharovo, but how much water +has flowed since then! In what distress we all seemed to be then, +yet I would give much to bring back that time... but there's no +bringing it back." + +Princess Mary gazed intently into his eyes with her own luminous +ones as he said this. She seemed to be trying to fathom the hidden +meaning of his words which would explain his feeling for her. + +"Yes, yes," said she, "but you have no reason to regret the past, +Count. As I understand your present life, I think you will always +recall it with satisfaction, because the self-sacrifice that fills +it now..." + +"I cannot accept your praise," he interrupted her hurriedly. "On the +contrary I continually reproach myself.... But this is not at all an +interesting or cheerful subject." + +His face again resumed its former stiff and cold expression. But the +princess had caught a glimpse of the man she had known and loved, +and it was to him that she now spoke. + +"I thought you would allow me to tell you this," she said. "I had +come so near to you... and to all your family that I thought you would +not consider my sympathy misplaced, but I was mistaken," and +suddenly her voice trembled. "I don't know why," she continued, +recovering herself, "but you used to be different, and..." + +"There are a thousand reasons why," laying special emphasis on the +why. "Thank you, Princess," he added softly. "Sometimes it is hard." + +"So that's why! That's why!" a voice whispered in Princess Mary's +soul. "No, it was not only that gay, kind, and frank look, not only +that handsome exterior, that I loved in him. I divined his noble, +resolute, self-sacrificing spirit too," she said to herself. "Yes, +he is poor now and I am rich.... Yes, that's the only reason.... +Yes, were it not for that..." And remembering his former tenderness, +and looking now at his kind, sorrowful face, she suddenly understood +the cause of his coldness. + +"But why, Count, why?" she almost cried, unconsciously moving closer +to him. "Why? Tell me. You must tell me!" + +He was silent. + +"I don't understand your why, Count," she continued, "but it's +hard for me... I confess it. For some reason you wish to deprive me of +our former friendship. And that hurts me." There were tears in her +eyes and in her voice. "I have had so little happiness in life that +every loss is hard for me to bear.... Excuse me, good-by!" and +suddenly she began to cry and was hurrying from the room. + +"Princess, for God's sake!" he exclaimed, trying to stop her. +"Princess!" + +She turned round. For a few seconds they gazed silently into one +another's eyes--and what had seemed impossible and remote suddenly +became possible, inevitable, and very near. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +In the winter of 1813 Nicholas married Princess Mary and moved to +Bald Hills with his wife, his mother, and Sonya. + +Within four years he had paid off all his remaining debts without +selling any of his wife's property, and having received a small +inheritance on the death of a cousin he paid his debt to Pierre as +well. + +In another three years, by 1820, he had so managed his affairs +that he was able to buy a small estate adjoining Bald Hills and was +negotiating to buy back Otradnoe--that being his pet dream. + +Having started farming from necessity, he soon grew so devoted to it +that it became his favorite and almost his sole occupation. Nicholas +was a plain farmer: he did not like innovations, especially the +English ones then coming into vogue. He laughed at theoretical +treatises on estate management, disliked factories, the raising of +expensive products, and the buying of expensive seed corn, and did not +make a hobby of any particular part of the work on his estate. He +always had before his mind's eye the estate as a whole and not any +particular part of it. The chief thing in his eyes was not the +nitrogen in the soil, nor the oxygen in the air, nor manures, nor +special plows, but that most important agent by which nitrogen, +oxygen, manure, and plow were made effective--the peasant laborer. +When Nicholas first began farming and began to understand its +different branches, it was the serf who especially attracted his +attention. The peasant seemed to him not merely a tool, but also a +judge of farming and an end in himself. At first he watched the serfs, +trying to understand their aims and what they considered good and bad, +and only pretended to direct them and give orders while in reality +learning from them their methods, their manner of speech, and their +judgment of what was good and bad. Only when he had understood the +peasants' tastes and aspirations, had learned to talk their +language, to grasp the hidden meaning of their words, and felt akin to +them did he begin boldly to manage his serfs, that is, to perform +toward them the duties demanded of him. And Nicholas' management +produced very brilliant results. + +Guided by some gift of insight, on taking up the management of the +estates he at once unerringly appointed as bailiff, village elder, and +delegate, the very men the serfs would themselves have chosen had they +had the right to choose, and these posts never changed hands. Before +analyzing the properties of manure, before entering into the debit and +credit (as he ironically called it), he found out how many cattle +the peasants had and increased the number by all possible means. He +kept the peasant families together in the largest groups possible, not +allowing the family groups to divide into separate households. He +was hard alike on the lazy, the depraved, and the weak, and tried to +get them expelled from the commune. + +He was as careful of the sowing and reaping of the peasants' hay and +corn as of his own, and few landowners had their crops sown and +harvested so early and so well, or got so good a return, as did +Nicholas. + +He disliked having anything to do with the domestic serfs--the +"drones" as he called them--and everyone said he spoiled them by his +laxity. When a decision had to be taken regarding a domestic serf, +especially if one had to be punished, he always felt undecided and +consulted everybody in the house; but when it was possible to have a +domestic serf conscripted instead of a land worker he did so without +the least hesitation. He never felt any hesitation in dealing with the +peasants. He knew that his every decision would be approved by them +all with very few exceptions. + +He did not allow himself either to be hard on or punish a man, or to +make things easy for or reward anyone, merely because he felt inclined +to do so. He could not have said by what standard he judged what he +should or should not do, but the standard was quite firm and +definite in his own mind. + +Often, speaking with vexation of some failure or irregularity, he +would say: "What can one do with our Russian peasants?" and imagined +that he could not bear them. + +Yet he loved "our Russian peasants" and their way of life with his +whole soul, and for that very reason had understood and assimilated +the one way and manner of farming which produced good results. + +Countess Mary was jealous of this passion of her husband's and +regretted that she could not share it; but she could not understand +the joys and vexations he derived from that world, to her so remote +and alien. She could not understand why he was so particularly +animated and happy when, after getting up at daybreak and spending the +whole morning in the fields or on the threshing floor, he returned +from the sowing or mowing or reaping to have tea with her. She did not +understand why he spoke with such admiration and delight of the +farming of the thrifty and well-to-do peasant Matthew Ermishin, who +with his family had carted corn all night; or of the fact that his +(Nicholas') sheaves were already stacked before anyone else had his +harvest in. She did not understand why he stepped out from the +window to the veranda and smiled under his mustache and winked so +joyfully, when warm steady rain began to fall on the dry and thirsty +shoots of the young oats, or why when the wind carried away a +threatening cloud during the hay harvest he would return from the +barn, flushed, sunburned, and perspiring, with a smell of wormwood and +gentian in his hair and, gleefully rubbing his hands, would say: +"Well, one more day and my grain and the peasants' will all be under +cover." + +Still less did she understand why he, kindhearted and always ready +to anticipate her wishes, should become almost desperate when she +brought him a petition from some peasant men or women who had appealed +to her to be excused some work; why he, that kind Nicholas, should +obstinately refuse her, angrily asking her not to interfere in what +was not her business. She felt he had a world apart, which he loved +passionately and which had laws she had not fathomed. + +Sometimes when, trying to understand him, she spoke of the good work +he was doing for his serfs, he would be vexed and reply: "Not in the +least; it never entered my head and I wouldn't do that for their good! +That's all poetry and old wives' talk--all that doing good to one's +neighbor! What I want is that our children should not have to go +begging. I must put our affairs in order while I am alive, that's all. +And to do that, order and strictness are essential.... That's all +about it!" said he, clenching his vigorous fist. "And fairness, of +course," he added, "for if the peasant is naked and hungry and has +only one miserable horse, he can do no good either for himself or +for me." + +And all Nicholas did was fruitful--probably just because he +refused to allow himself to think that he was doing good to others for +virtue's sake. His means increased rapidly; serfs from neighboring +estates came to beg him to buy them, and long after his death the +memory of his administration was devoutly preserved among the serfs. +"He was a master... the peasants' affairs first and then his own. Of +course he was not to be trifled with either--in a word, he was a +real master!" + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +One matter connected with his management sometimes worried Nicholas, +and that was his quick temper together with his old hussar habit of +making free use of his fists. At first he saw nothing reprehensible in +this, but in the second year of his marriage his view of that form +of punishment suddenly changed. + +Once in summer he had sent for the village elder from Bogucharovo, a +man who had succeeded to the post when Dron died and who was accused +of dishonesty and various irregularities. Nicholas went out into the +porch to question him, and immediately after the elder had given a few +replies the sound of cries and blows were heard. On returning to lunch +Nicholas went up to his wife, who sat with her head bent low over +her embroidery frame, and as usual began to tell her what he had +been doing that morning. Among other things he spoke of the +Bogucharovo elder. Countess Mary turned red and then pale, but +continued to sit with head bowed and lips compressed and gave her +husband no reply. + +"Such an insolent scoundrel!" he cried, growing hot again at the +mere recollection of him. "If he had told me he was drunk and did +not see... But what is the matter with you, Mary?" he suddenly asked. + +Countess Mary raised her head and tried to speak, but hastily looked +down again and her lips puckered. + +"Why, whatever is the matter, my dearest?" + +The looks of the plain Countess Mary always improved when she was in +tears. She never cried from pain or vexation, but always from sorrow +or pity, and when she wept her radiant eyes acquired an irresistible +charm. + +The moment Nicholas took her hand she could no longer restrain +herself and began to cry. + +"Nicholas, I saw it... he was to blame, but why do you... Nicholas!" +and she covered her face with her hands. + +Nicholas said nothing. He flushed crimson, left her side, and +paced up and down the room. He understood what she was weeping +about, but could not in his heart at once agree with her that what +he had regarded from childhood as quite an everyday event was wrong. +"Is it just sentimentality, old wives' tales, or is she right?" he +asked himself. Before he had solved that point he glanced again at her +face filled with love and pain, and he suddenly realized that she +was right and that he had long been sinning against himself. + +"Mary," he said softly, going up to her, "it will never happen +again; I give you my word. Never," he repeated in a trembling voice +like a boy asking for forgiveness. + +The tears flowed faster still from the countess' eyes. She took +his hand and kissed it. + +"Nicholas, when did you break your cameo?" she asked to change the +subject, looking at his finger on which he wore a ring with a cameo +of Laocoon's head. + +"Today--it was the same affair. Oh, Mary, don't remind me of it!" +and again he flushed. "I give you my word of honor it shan't occur +again, and let this always be a reminder to me," and he pointed to the +broken ring. + +After that, when in discussions with his village elders or +stewards the blood rushed to his face and his fists began to clench, +Nicholas would turn the broken ring on his finger and would drop his +eyes before the man who was making him angry. But he did forget +himself once or twice within a twelvemonth, and then he would go and +confess to his wife, and would again promise that this should really +be the very last time. + +"Mary, you must despise me!" he would say. "I deserve it." + +"You should go, go away at once, if you don't feel strong enough +to control yourself," she would reply sadly, trying to comfort her +husband. + +Among the gentry of the province Nicholas was respected but not +liked. He did not concern himself with the interests of his own class, +and consequently some thought him proud and others thought him stupid. +The whole summer, from spring sowing to harvest, he was busy with +the work on his farm. In autumn he gave himself up to hunting with the +same business like seriousness--leaving home for a month, or even two, +with his hunt. In winter he visited his other villages or spent his +time reading. The books he read were chiefly historical, and on +these he spent a certain sum every year. He was collecting, as he +said, a serious library, and he made it a rule to read through all the +books he bought. He would sit in his study with a grave air, +reading--a task he first imposed upon himself as a duty, but which +afterwards became a habit affording him a special kind of pleasure and +a consciousness of being occupied with serious matters. In winter, +except for business excursions, he spent most of his time at home +making himself one with his family and entering into all the details +of his children's relations with their mother. The harmony between him +and his wife grew closer and closer and he daily discovered fresh +spiritual treasures in her. + +From the time of his marriage Sonya had lived in his house. Before +that, Nicholas had told his wife all that had passed between himself +and Sonya, blaming himself and commending her. He had asked Princess +Mary to be gentle and kind to his cousin. She thoroughly realized +the wrong he had done Sonya, felt herself to blame toward her, and +imagined that her wealth had influenced Nicholas' choice. She could +not find fault with Sonya in any way and tried to be fond of her, +but often felt ill-will toward her which she could not overcome. + +Once she had a talk with her friend Natasha about Sonya and about +her own injustice toward her. + +"You know," said Natasha, "you have read the Gospels a great deal- +there is a passage in them that just fits Sonya." + +"What?" asked Countess Mary, surprised. + +"'To him that hath shall be given, and from him that hath not +shall be taken away.' You remember? She is one that hath not; why, I +don't know. Perhaps she lacks egotism, I don't know, but from her is +taken away, and everything has been taken away. Sometimes I am +dreadfully sorry for her. Formerly I very much wanted Nicholas to +marry her, but I always had a sort of presentiment that it would not +come off. She is a sterile flower, you know--like some strawberry +blossoms. Sometimes I am sorry for her, and sometimes I think she +doesn't feel it as you or I would." + +Though Countess Mary told Natasha that those words in the Gospel +must be understood differently, yet looking at Sonya she agreed with +Natasha's explanation. It really seemed that Sonya did not feel her +position trying, and had grown quite reconciled to her lot as a +sterile flower. She seemed to be fond not so much of individuals as of +the family as a whole. Like a cat, she had attached herself not to the +people but to the home. She waited on the old countess, petted and +spoiled the children, was always ready to render the small services +for which she had a gift, and all this was unconsciously accepted from +her with insufficient gratitude. + +The country seat at Bald Hills had been rebuilt, though not on the +same scale as under the old prince. + +The buildings, begun under straitened circumstances, were more +than simple. The immense house on the old stone foundations was of +wood, plastered only inside. It had bare deal floors and was furnished +with very simple hard sofas, armchairs, tables, and chairs made by +their own serf carpenters out of their own birchwood. The house was +spacious and had rooms for the house serfs and apartments for +visitors. Whole families of the Rostovs' and Bolkonskis' relations +sometimes came to Bald Hills with sixteen horses and dozens of +servants and stayed for months. Besides that, four times a year, on +the name days and birthdays of the hosts, as many as a hundred +visitors would gather there for a day or two. The rest of the year +life pursued its unbroken routine with its ordinary occupations, and +its breakfasts, lunches, dinners, and suppers, provided out of the +produce of the estate. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +It was the eve of St. Nicholas, the fifth of December, 1820. Natasha +had been staying at her brother's with her husband and children +since early autumn. Pierre had gone to Petersburg on business of his +own for three weeks as he said, but had remained there nearly seven +weeks and was expected back every minute. + +Besides the Bezukhov family, Nicholas' old friend the retired +General Vasili Dmitrich Denisov was staying with the Rostovs this +fifth of December. + +On the sixth, which was his name day when the house would be full of +visitors, Nicholas knew he would have to exchange his Tartar tunic for +a tail coat, and put on narrow boots with pointed toes, and drive to +the new church he had built, and then receive visitors who would +come to congratulate him, offer them refreshments, and talk about +the elections of the nobility; but he considered himself entitled to +spend the eve of that day in his usual way. He examined the +bailiff's accounts of the village in Ryazan which belonged to his +wife's nephew, wrote two business letters, and walked over to the +granaries, cattle yards and stables before dinner. Having taken +precautions against the general drunkenness to be expected on the +morrow because it was a great saint's day, he returned to dinner, +and without having time for a private talk with his wife sat down at +the long table laid for twenty persons, at which the whole household +had assembled. At that table were his mother, his mother's old lady +companion Belova, his wife, their three children with their +governess and tutor, his wife's nephew with his tutor, Sonya, Denisov, +Natasha, her three children, their governess, and old Michael +Ivanovich, the late prince's architect, who was living on in +retirement at Bald Hills. + +Countess Mary sat at the other end of the table. When her husband +took his place she concluded, from the rapid manner in which after +taking up his table napkin he pushed back the tumbler and wineglass +standing before him, that he was out of humor, as was sometimes the +case when he came in to dinner straight from the farm--especially +before the soup. Countess Mary well knew that mood of his, and when +she herself was in a good frame of mind quietly waited till he had had +his soup and then began to talk to him and make him admit that there +was no cause for his ill-humor. But today she quite forgot that and +was hurt that he should be angry with her without any reason, and +she felt unhappy. She asked him where he had been. He replied. She +again inquired whether everything was going well on the farm. Her +unnatural tone made him wince unpleasantly and he replied hastily. + +"Then I'm not mistaken," thought Countess Mary. "Why is he cross +with me?" She concluded from his tone that he was vexed with her and +wished to end the conversation. She knew her remarks sounded +unnatural, but could not refrain from asking some more questions. + +Thanks to Denisov the conversation at table soon became general +and lively, and she did not talk to her husband. When they left the +table and went as usual to thank the old countess, Countess Mary +held out her hand and kissed her husband, and asked him why he was +angry with her. + +"You always have such strange fancies! I didn't even think of +being angry," he replied. + +But the word always seemed to her to imply: "Yes, I am angry but I +won't tell you why." + +Nicholas and his wife lived together so happily that even Sonya +and the old countess, who felt jealous and would have liked them to +disagree, could find nothing to reproach them with; but even they +had their moments of antagonism. Occasionally, and it was always +just after they had been happiest together, they suddenly had a +feeling of estrangement and hostility, which occurred most +frequently during Countess Mary's pregnancies, and this was such a +time. + +"Well, messieurs et mesdames," said Nicholas loudly and with +apparent cheerfulness (it seemed to Countess Mary that he did it on +purpose to vex her), "I have been on my feet since six this morning. +Tomorrow I shall have to suffer, so today I'll go and rest." + +And without a word to his wife he went to the little sitting room +and lay down on the sofa. + +"That's always the way," thought Countess Mary. "He talks to +everyone except me. I see... I see that I am repulsive to him, +especially when I am in this condition." She looked down at her +expanded figure and in the glass at her pale, sallow, emaciated face +in which her eyes now looked larger than ever. + +And everything annoyed her--Denisov's shouting and laughter, +Natasha's talk, and especially a quick glance Sonya gave her. + +Sonya was always the first excuse Countess Mary found for feeling +irritated. + +Having sat awhile with her visitors without understanding anything +of what they were saying, she softly left the room and went to the +nursery. + +The children were playing at "going to Moscow" in a carriage made of +chairs and invited her to go with them. She sat down and played with +them a little, but the thought of her husband and his unreasonable +crossness worried her. She got up and, walking on tiptoe with +difficulty, went to the small sitting room. + +"Perhaps he is not asleep; I'll have an explanation with him," she +said to herself. Little Andrew, her eldest boy, imitating his +mother, followed her on tiptoe. She not notice him. + +"Mary, dear, I think he is asleep--he was so tired," said Sonya, +meeting her in the large sitting room (it seemed to Countess Mary that +she crossed her path everywhere). "Andrew may wake him." + +Countess Mary looked round, saw little Andrew following her, felt +that Sonya was right, and for that very reason flushed and with +evident difficulty refrained from saying something harsh. She made +no reply, but to avoid obeying Sonya beckoned to Andrew to follow +her quietly and went to the door. Sonya went away by another door. +From the room in which Nicholas was sleeping came the sound of his +even breathing, every slightest tone of which was familiar to his +wife. As she listened to it she saw before her his smooth handsome +forehead, his mustache, and his whole face, as she had so often seen +it in the stillness of the night when he slept. Nicholas suddenly +moved and cleared his throat. And at that moment little Andrew shouted +from outside the door: "Papa! Mamma's standing here!" Countess Mary +turned pale with fright and made signs to the boy. He grew silent, and +quiet ensued for a moment, terrible to Countess Mary. She knew how +Nicholas disliked being waked. Then through the door she heard +Nicholas clearing his throat again and stirring, and his voice said +crossly: + +"I can't get a moment's peace.... Mary, is that you? Why did you +bring him here?" + +"I only came in to look and did not notice... forgive me..." + +Nicholas coughed and said no more. Countess Mary moved away from the +door and took the boy back to the nursery. Five minutes later little +black-eyed three-year-old Natasha, her father's pet, having learned +from her brother that Papa was asleep and Mamma was in the sitting +room, ran to her father unobserved by her mother. The dark-eyed little +girl boldly opened the creaking door, went up to the sofa with +energetic steps of her sturdy little legs, and having examined the +position of her father, who was asleep with his back to her, rose on +tiptoe and kissed the hand which lay under his head. Nicholas turned +with a tender smile on his face. + +"Natasha, Natasha!" came Countess Mary's frightened whisper from the +door. "Papa wants to sleep." + +"No, Mamma, he doesn't want to sleep," said little Natasha with +conviction. "He's laughing." + +Nicholas lowered his legs, rose, and took his daughter in his arms. + +"Come in, Mary," he said to his wife. + +She went in and sat down by her husband. + +"I did not notice him following me," she said timidly. "I just +looked in." + +Holding his little girl with one arm, Nicholas glanced at his wife +and, seeing her guilty expression, put his other arm around her and +kissed her hair. + +"May I kiss Mamma?" he asked Natasha. + +Natasha smiled bashfully. + +"Again!" she commanded, pointing with a peremptory gesture to the +spot where Nicholas had placed the kiss. + +"I don't know why you think I am cross," said Nicholas, replying +to the question he knew was in his wife's mind. + +"You have no idea how unhappy, how lonely, I feel when you are +like that. It always seems to me... " + +"Mary, don't talk nonsense. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" he +said gaily. + +"It seems to be that you can't love me, that I am so plain... +always... and now... in this cond..." + +"Oh, how absurd you are! It is not beauty that endears, it's love +that makes us see beauty. It is only Malvinas and women of that kind +who are loved for their beauty. But do I love my wife? I don't love +her, but... I don't know how to put it. Without you, or when something +comes between us like this, I seem lost and can't do anything. Now +do I love my finger? I don't love it, but just try to cut it off!" + +"I'm not like that myself, but I understand. So you're not angry +with me?" + +"Awfully angry!" he said, smiling and getting up. And smoothing +his hair he began to pace the room. + +"Do you know, Mary, what I've been thinking?" he began, +immediately thinking aloud in his wife's presence now that they had +made it up. + +He did not ask if she was ready to listen to him. He did not care. A +thought had occurred to him and so it belonged to her also. And he +told her of his intention to persuade Pierre to stay with them till +spring. + +Countess Mary listened till he had finished, made some remark, and +in her turn began thinking aloud. Her thoughts were about the +children. + +"You can see the woman in her already," she said in French, pointing +to little Natasha. "You reproach us women with being illogical. Here +is our logic. I say: 'Papa wants to sleep!' but she says, 'No, he's +laughing.' And she was right," said Countess Mary with a happy smile. + +"Yes, yes." And Nicholas, taking his little daughter in his strong +hand, lifted her high, placed her on his shoulder, held her by the +legs, and paced the room with her. There was an expression of carefree +happiness on the faces of both father and daughter. + +"But you know you may be unfair. You are too fond of this one," +his wife whispered in French. + +"Yes, but what am I to do?... I try not to show..." + +At that moment they heard the sound of the door pulley and footsteps +in the hall and anteroom, as if someone had arrived. + +"Somebody has come." + +"I am sure it is Pierre. I will go and see," said Countess Mary +and left the room. + +In her absence Nicholas allowed himself to give his little +daughter a gallop round the room. Out of breath, he took the +laughing child quickly from his shoulder and pressed her to his heart. +His capers reminded him of dancing, and looking at the child's round +happy little face he thought of what she would be like when he was +an old man, taking her into society and dancing the mazurka with her +as his old father had danced Daniel Cooper with his daughter. + +"It is he, it is he, Nicholas!" said Countess Mary, re-entering +the room a few minutes later. "Now our Natasha has come to life. You +should have seen her ecstasy, and how he caught it for having stayed +away so long. Well, come along now, quick, quick! It's time you two +were parted," she added, looking smilingly at the little girl who +clung to her father. + +Nicholas went out holding the child by the hand. + +Countess Mary remained in the sitting room. + +"I should never, never have believed that one could be so happy," +she whispered to herself. A smile lit up her face but at the same time +she sighed, and her deep eyes expressed a quiet sadness as though +she felt, through her happiness, that there is another sort of +happiness unattainable in this life and of which she involuntarily +thought at that instant. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Natasha had married in the early spring of 1813, and in 1820 already +had three daughters besides a son for whom she had longed and whom she +was now nursing. She had grown stouter and broader, so that it was +difficult to recognize in this robust, motherly woman the slim, lively +Natasha of former days. Her features were more defined and had a calm, +soft, and serene expression. In her face there was none of the +ever-glowing animation that had formerly burned there and +constituted its charm. Now her face and body were of all that one saw, +and her soul was not visible at all. All that struck the eye was a +strong, handsome, and fertile woman. The old fire very rarely +kindled in her face now. That happened only when, as was the case that +day, her husband returned home, or a sick child was convalescent, or +when she and Countess Mary spoke of Prince Andrew (she never mentioned +him to her husband, who she imagined was jealous of Prince Andrew's +memory), or on the rare occasions when something happened to induce +her to sing, a practice she had quite abandoned since her marriage. At +the rare moments when the old fire did kindle in her handsome, fully +developed body she was even more attractive than in former days. + +Since their marriage Natasha and her husband had lived in Moscow, in +Petersburg, on their estate near Moscow, or with her mother, that is +to say, in Nicholas' house. The young Countess Bezukhova was not often +seen in society, and those who met her there were not pleased with her +and found her neither attractive nor amiable. Not that Natasha liked +solitude--she did not know whether she liked it or not, she even +thought that she did not--but with her pregnancies, her +confinements, the nursing of her children, and sharing every moment of +her husband's life, she had demands on her time which could be +satisfied only by renouncing society. All who had known Natasha before +her marriage wondered at the change in her as at something +extraordinary. Only the old countess with her maternal instinct had +realized that all Natasha's outbursts had been due to her need of +children and a husband--as she herself had once exclaimed at +Otradnoe not so much in fun as in earnest--and her mother was now +surprised at the surprise expressed by those who had never +understood Natasha, and she kept saying that she had always known that +Natasha would make an exemplary wife and mother. + +"Only she lets her love of her husband and children overflow all +bounds," said the countess, "so that it even becomes absurd." + +Natasha did not follow the golden rule advocated by clever folk, +especially by the French, which says that a girl should not let +herself go when she marries, should not neglect her accomplishments, +should be even more careful of her appearance than when she was +unmarried, and should fascinate her husband as much as she did +before he became her husband. Natasha on the contrary had at once +abandoned all her witchery, of which her singing had been an unusually +powerful part. She gave it up just because it was so powerfully +seductive. She took no pains with her manners or with of speech, or +with her toilet, or to show herself to her husband in her most +becoming attitudes, or to avoid inconveniencing him by being too +exacting. She acted in contradiction to all those rules. She felt that +the allurements instinct had formerly taught her to use would now be +merely ridiculous in the eyes of her husband, to whom she had from the +first moment given herself up entirely--that is, with her whole +soul, leaving no corner of it hidden from him. She felt that her unity +with her husband was not maintained by the poetic feelings that had +attracted him to her, but by something else--indefinite but firm as +the bond between her own body and soul. + +To fluff out her curls, put on fashionable dresses, and sing +romantic songs to fascinate her husband would have seemed as strange +as to adorn herself to attract herself. To adorn herself for others +might perhaps have been agreeable--she did not know--but she had no +time at all for it. The chief reason for devoting no time either to +singing, to dress, or to choosing her words was that she really had no +time to spare for these things. + +We know that man has the faculty of becoming completely absorbed +in a subject however trivial it may be, and that there is no subject +so trivial that it will not grow to infinite proportions if one's +entire attention is devoted to it. + +The subject which wholly engrossed Natasha's attention was her +family: that is, her husband whom she had to keep so that he should +belong entirely to her and to the home, and the children whom she +had to bear, bring into the world, nurse, and bring up. + +And the deeper she penetrated, not with her mind only but with her +whole soul, her whole being, into the subject that absorbed her, the +larger did that subject grow and the weaker and more inadequate did +her powers appear, so that she concentrated them wholly on that one +thing and yet was unable to accomplish all that she considered +necessary. + +There were then as now conversations and discussions about women's +rights, the relations of husband and wife and their freedom and +rights, though these themes were not yet termed questions as they +are now; but these topics were not merely uninteresting to Natasha, +she positively did not understand them. + +These questions, then as now, existed only for those who see nothing +in marriage but the pleasure married people get from one another, that +is, only the beginnings of marriage and not its whole significance, +which lies in the family. + +Discussions and questions of that kind, which are like the +question of how to get the greatest gratification from one's dinner, +did not then and do not now exist for those for whom the purpose of +a dinner is the nourishment it affords; and the purpose of marriage is +the family. + +If the purpose of dinner is to nourish the body, a man who eats +two dinners at once may perhaps get more enjoyment but will not attain +his purpose, for his stomach will not digest the two dinners. + +If the purpose of marriage is the family, the person who wishes to +have many wives or husbands may perhaps obtain much pleasure, but in +that case will not have a family. + +If the purpose of food is nourishment and the purpose of marriage is +the family, the whole question resolves itself into not eating more +than one can digest, and not having more wives or husbands than are +needed for the family--that is, one wife or one husband. Natasha +needed a husband. A husband was given her and he gave her a family. +And she not only saw no need of any other or better husband, but as +all the powers of her soul were intent on serving that husband and +family, she could not imagine and saw no interest in imagining how +it would be if things were different. + +Natasha did not care for society in general, but prized the more the +society of her relatives--Countess Mary, and her brother, her +mother, and Sonya. She valued the company of those to whom she could +come striding disheveled from the nursery in her dressing gown, and +with joyful face show a yellow instead of a green stain on baby's +napkin, and from whom she could hear reassuring words to the effect +that baby was much better. + +To such an extent had Natasha let herself go that the way she +dressed and did her hair, her ill-chosen words, and her jealousy- +she was jealous of Sonya, of the governess, and of every woman, pretty +or plain--were habitual subjects of jest to those about her. The +general opinion was that Pierre was under his wife's thumb, which +was really true. From the very first days of their married life +Natasha had announced her demands. Pierre was greatly surprised by his +wife's view, to him a perfectly novel one, that every moment of his +life belonged to her and to the family. His wife's demands +astonished him, but they also flattered him, and he submitted to them. + +Pierre's subjection consisted in the fact that he not only dared not +flirt with, but dared not even speak smilingly to, any other woman; +did not dare dine at the Club as a pastime, did not dare spend money a +whim, and did not dare absent himself for any length of time, except +on business--in which his wife included his intellectual pursuits, +which she did not in the least understand but to which she +attributed great importance. To make up for this, at home Pierre had +the right to regulate his life and that of the whole family exactly as +he chose. At home Natasha placed herself in the position of a slave to +her husband, and the whole household went on tiptoe when he was +occupied--that is, was reading or writing in his study. Pierre had but +to show a partiality for anything to get just what he liked done +always. He had only to express a wish and Natasha would jump up and +run to fulfill it. + +The entire household was governed according to Pierre's supposed +orders, that is, by his wishes which Natasha tried to guess. Their way +of life and place of residence, their acquaintances and ties, +Natasha's occupations, the children's upbringing, were all selected +not merely with regard to Pierre's expressed wishes, but to what +Natasha from the thoughts he expressed in conversation supposed his +wishes to be. And she deduced the essentials of his wishes quite +correctly, and having once arrived at them clung to them +tenaciously. When Pierre himself wanted to change his mind she would +fight him with his own weapons. + +Thus in a time of trouble ever memorable to him after the birth of +their first child who was delicate, when they had to change the wet +nurse three times and Natasha fell ill from despair, Pierre one day +told her of Rousseau's view, with which he quite agreed, that to +have a wet nurse is unnatural and harmful. When her next baby was +born, despite the opposition of her mother, the doctors, and even of +her husband himself--who were all vigorously opposed to her nursing +her baby herself, a thing then unheard of and considered injurious- +she insisted on having her own way, and after that nursed all her +babies herself. + +It very often happened that in a moment of irritation husband and +wife would have a dispute, but long afterwards Pierre to his +surprise and delight would find in his wife's ideas and actions the +very thought against which she had argued, but divested of +everything superfluous that in the excitement of the dispute he had +added when expressing his opinion. + +After seven years of marriage Pierre had the joyous and firm +consciousness that he was not a bad man, and he felt this because he +saw himself reflected in his wife. He felt the good and bad within +himself inextricably mingled and overlapping. But only what was really +good in him was reflected in his wife, all that was not quite good was +rejected. And this was not the result of logical reasoning but was a +direct and mysterious reflection. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Two months previously when Pierre was already staying with the +Rostovs he had received a letter from Prince Theodore, asking him to +come to Petersburg to confer on some important questions that were +being discussed there by a society of which Pierre was one of the +principal founders. + +On reading that letter (she always read her husband's letters) +Natasha herself suggested that he should go to Petersburg, though +she would feel his absence very acutely. She attributed immense +importance to all her husband's intellectual and abstract interests +though she did not understand them, and she always dreaded being a +hindrance to him in such matters. To Pierre's timid look of inquiry +after reading the letter she replied by asking him to go, but to fix a +definite date for his return. He was given four weeks' leave of +absence. + +Ever since that leave of absence had expired, more than a +fortnight before, Natasha had been in a constant state of alarm, +depression, and irritability. + +Denisov, now a general on the retired list and much dissatisfied +with the present state of affairs, had arrived during that +fortnight. He looked at Natasha with sorrow and surprise as at a bad +likeness of a person once dear. A dull, dejected look, random replies, +and talk about the nursery was all he saw and heard from his former +enchantress. + +Natasha was sad and irritable all that time, especially when her +mother, her brother, Sonya, or Countess Mary in their efforts to +console her tried to excuse Pierre and suggested reasons for his delay +in returning. + +"It's all nonsense, all rubbish--those discussions which lead to +nothing and all those idiotic societies!" Natasha declared of the very +affairs in the immense importance of which she firmly believed. + +And she would go to the nursery to nurse Petya, her only boy. No one +else could tell her anything so comforting or so reasonable as this +little three-month-old creature when he lay at her breast and she +was conscious of the movement of his lips and the snuffling of his +little nose. That creature said: "You are angry, you are jealous, +you would like to pay him out, you are afraid--but here am I! And I am +he..." and that was unanswerable. It was more than true. + +During that fortnight of anxiety Natasha resorted to the baby for +comfort so often, and fussed over him so much, that she overfed him +and he fell ill. She was terrified by his illness, and yet that was +just what she needed. While attending to him she bore the anxiety +about her husband more easily. + +She was nursing her boy when the sound of Pierre's sleigh was +heard at the front door, and the old nurse--knowing how to please +her mistress--entered the room inaudibly but hurriedly and with a +beaming face. + +"Has he come?" Natasha asked quickly in a whisper, afraid to move +lest she should rouse the dozing baby. + +"He's come, ma'am," whispered the nurse. + +The blood rushed to Natasha's face and her feet involuntarily moved, +but she could not jump up and run out. The baby again opened his +eyes and looked at her. "You're here?" he seemed to be saying, and +again lazily smacked his lips. + +Cautiously withdrawing her breast, Natasha rocked him a little, +handed him to the nurse, and went with rapid steps toward the door. +But at the door she stopped as if her conscience reproached her for +having in her joy left the child too soon, and she glanced round. +The nurse with raised elbows was lifting the infant over the rail of +his cot. + +"Go, ma'am! Don't worry, go!" she whispered, smiling, with the +kind of familiarity that grows up between a nurse and her mistress. + +Natasha ran with light footsteps to the anteroom. + +Denisov, who had come out of the study into the dancing room with +his pipe, now for the first time recognized the old Natasha. A flood +of brilliant, joyful light poured from her transfigured face. + +"He's come!" she exclaimed as she ran past, and Denisov felt that he +too was delighted that Pierre, whom he did not much care for, had +returned. + +On reaching the vestibule Natasha saw a tall figure in a fur coat +unwinding his scarf. "It's he! It's really he! He has come!" she +said to herself, and rushing at him embraced him, pressed his head +to her breast, and then pushed him back and gazed at his ruddy, +happy face, covered with hoarfrost. "Yes, it is he, happy and +contented..." + +Then all at once she remembered the tortures of suspense she had +experienced for the last fortnight, and the joy that had lit up her +face vanished; she frowned and overwhelmed Pierre with a torrent of +reproaches and angry words. + +"Yes, it's all very well for you. You are pleased, you've had a good +time.... But what about me? You might at least have shown +consideration for the children. I am nursing and my milk was +spoiled.... Petya was at death's door. But you were enjoying yourself. +Yes, enjoying..." + +Pierre knew he was not to blame, for he could not have come +sooner; he knew this outburst was unseemly and would blow over in a +minute or two; above all he knew that he himself was bright and happy. +He wanted to smile but dared not even think of doing so. He made a +piteous, frightened face and bent down. + +"I could not, on my honor. But how is Petya?" + +"All right now. Come along! I wonder you're not ashamed! If only you +could see what I was like without you, how I suffered!" + +"You are well?" + +"Come, come!" she said, not letting go of his arm. And they went +to their rooms. + +When Nicholas and his wife came to look for Pierre he was in the +nursery holding his baby son, who was again awake, on his huge right +palm and dandling him. A blissful bright smile was fixed on the baby's +broad face with its toothless open mouth. The storm was long since +over and there was bright, joyous sunshine on Natasha's face as she +gazed tenderly at her husband and child. + +"And have you talked everything well over with Prince Theodore?" she +asked. + +"Yes, capitally." + +"You see, he holds it up." (She meant the baby's head.) "But how +he did frighten me... You've seen the princess? Is it true she's in +love with that..." + +"Yes, just fancy..." + +At that moment Nicholas and Countess Mary came in. Pierre with the +baby on his hand stooped, kissed them, and replied to their inquiries. +But in spite of much that was interesting and had to be discussed, the +baby with the little cap on its unsteady head evidently absorbed all +his attention. + +"How sweet!" said Countess Mary, looking at and playing with the +baby. "Now, Nicholas," she added, turning to her husband, "I can't +understand how it is you don't see the charm of these delicious +marvels." + +"I don't and can't," replied Nicholas, looking coldly at the baby. +"A lump of flesh. Come along, Pierre!" + +"And yet he's such an affectionate father," said Countess Mary, +vindicating her husband, "but only after they are a year old or so..." + +"Now, Pierre nurses them splendidly," said Natasha. "He says his +hand is just made for a baby's seat. Just look!" + +"Only not for this..." Pierre suddenly exclaimed with a laugh, and +shifting the baby he gave him to the nurse. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +As in every large household, there were at Bald Hills several +perfectly distinct worlds which merged into one harmonious whole, +though each retained its own peculiarities and made concessions to the +others. Every event, joyful or sad, that took place in that house +was important to all these worlds, but each had its own special +reasons to rejoice or grieve over that occurrence independently of the +others. + +For instance, Pierre's return was a joyful and important event and +they all felt it to be so. + +The servants--the most reliable judges of their masters because they +judge not by their conversation or expressions of feeling but by their +acts and way of life--were glad of Pierre's return because they knew +that when he was there Count Nicholas would cease going every day +to attend to the estate, and would be in better spirits and temper, +and also because they would all receive handsome presents for the +holidays. + +The children and their governesses were glad of Pierre's return +because no one else drew them into the social life of the household as +he did. He alone could play on the clavichord that ecossaise (his only +piece) to which, as he said, all possible dances could be danced, +and they felt sure he had brought presents for them all. + +Young Nicholas, now a slim lad of fifteen, delicate and intelligent, +with curly light-brown hair and beautiful eyes, was delighted +because Uncle Pierre as he called him was the object of his +rapturous and passionate affection. No one had instilled into him this +love for Pierre whom he saw only occasionally. Countess Mary who had +brought him up had done her utmost to make him love her husband as she +loved him, and little Nicholas did love his uncle, but loved him +with just a shade of contempt. Pierre, however, he adored. He did +not want to be an hussar or a Knight of St. George like his uncle +Nicholas; he wanted to be learned, wise, and kind like Pierre. In +Pierre's presence his face always shone with pleasure and he flushed +and was breathless when Pierre spoke to him. He did not miss a +single word he uttered, and would afterwards, with Dessalles or by +himself, recall and reconsider the meaning of everything Pierre had +said. Pierre's past life and his unhappiness prior to 1812 (of which +young Nicholas had formed a vague poetic picture from some words he +had overheard), his adventures in Moscow, his captivity, Platon +Karataev (of whom he had heard from Pierre), his love for Natasha +(of whom the lad was also particularly fond), and especially +Pierre's friendship with the father whom Nicholas could not +remember--all this made Pierre in his eyes a hero and a saint. + +From broken remarks about Natasha and his father, from the emotion +with which Pierre spoke of that dead father, and from the careful, +reverent tenderness with which Natasha spoke of him, the boy, who +was only just beginning to guess what love is, derived the notion that +his father had loved Natasha and when dying had left her to his +friend. But the father whom the boy did not remember appeared to him a +divinity who could not be pictured, and of whom he never thought +without a swelling heart and tears of sadness and rapture. So the +boy also was happy that Pierre had arrived. + +The guests welcomed Pierre because he always helped to enliven and +unite any company he was in. + +The grown-up members of the family, not to mention his wife, were +pleased to have back a friend whose presence made life run more +smoothly and peacefully. + +The old ladies were pleased with the presents he brought them, and +especially that Natasha would now be herself again. + +Pierre felt the different outlooks of these various worlds and +made haste to satisfy all their expectations. + +Though the most absent-minded and forgetful of men, Pierre, with the +aid of a list his wife drew up, had now bought everything, not +forgetting his mother--and brother-in-law's commissions, nor the dress +material for a present to Belova, nor toys for his wife's nephews. +In the early days of his marriage it had seemed strange to him that +his wife should expect him not to forget to procure all the things +he undertook to buy, and he had been taken aback by her serious +annoyance when on his first trip he forgot everything. But in time +he grew used to this demand. Knowing that Natasha asked nothing for +herself, and gave him commissions for others only when he himself +had offered to undertake them, he now found an unexpected and +childlike pleasure in this purchase of presents for everyone in the +house, and never forgot anything. If he now incurred Natasha's censure +it was only for buying too many and too expensive things. To her other +defects (as most people thought them, but which to Pierre were +qualities) of untidiness and neglect of herself, she now added +stinginess. + +From the time that Pierre began life as a family man on a footing +entailing heavy expenditure, he had noticed to his surprise that he +spent only half as much as before, and that his affairs--which had +been in disorder of late, chiefly because of his first wife's debts- +had begun to improve. + +Life was cheaper because it was circumscribed: that most expensive +luxury, the kind of life that can be changed at any moment, was no +longer his nor did he wish for it. He felt that his way of life had +now been settled once for all till death and that to change it was not +in his power, and so that way of life proved economical. + +With a merry, smiling face Pierre was sorting his purchases. + +"What do you think of this?" said he, unrolling a piece of stuff +like a shopman. + +Natasha, who was sitting opposite to him with her eldest daughter on +her lap, turned her sparkling eyes swiftly from her husband to the +things he showed her. + +"That's for Belova? Excellent!" She felt the quality of the +material. "It was a ruble an arshin, I suppose?" + +Pierre told her the price. + +"Too dear!" Natasha remarked. "How pleased the children will be +and Mamma too! Only you need not have bought me this," she added, +unable to suppress a smile as she gazed admiringly at a gold comb +set with pearls, of a kind then just coming into fashion. + +"Adele tempted me: she kept on telling me to buy it," returned +Pierre. + +"When am I to wear it?" and Natasha stuck it in her coil of hair. +"When I take little Masha into society? Perhaps they will be +fashionable again by then. Well, let's go now." + +And collecting the presents they went first to the nursery and +then to the old countess' rooms. + +The countess was sitting with her companion Belova, playing +grand-patience as usual, when Pierre and Natasha came into the drawing +room with parcels under their arms. + +The countess was now over sixty, was quite gray, and wore a cap with +a frill that surrounded her face. Her face had shriveled, her upper +lip had sunk in, and her eyes were dim. + +After the deaths of her son and husband in such rapid succession, +she felt herself a being accidentally forgotten in this world and left +without aim or object for her existence. She ate, drank, slept, or +kept awake, but did not live. Life gave her no new impressions. She +wanted nothing from life but tranquillity, and that tranquillity +only death could give her. But until death came she had to go on +living, that is, to use her vital forces. A peculiarity one sees in +very young children and very old people was particularly evident in +her. Her life had no external aims--only a need to exercise her +various functions and inclinations was apparent. She had to eat, +sleep, think, speak, weep, work, give vent to her anger, and so on, +merely because she had a stomach, a brain, muscles, nerves, and a +liver. She did these things not under any external impulse as people +in the full vigor of life do, when behind the purpose for which they +strive that of exercising their functions remains unnoticed. She +talked only because she physically needed to exercise her tongue and +lungs. She cried as a child does, because her nose had to be +cleared, and so on. What for people in their full vigor is an aim +was for her evidently merely a pretext. + +Thus in the morning--especially if she had eaten anything rich the +day before--she felt a need of being angry and would choose as the +handiest pretext Belova's deafness. + +She would begin to say something to her in a low tone from the other +end of the room. + +"It seems a little warmer today, my dear," she would murmur. + +And when Belova replied: "Oh yes, they've come," she would mutter +angrily: "O Lord! How stupid and deaf she is!" + +Another pretext would be her snuff, which would seem too dry or +too damp or not rubbed fine enough. After these fits of irritability +her face would grow yellow, and her maids knew by infallible +symptoms when Belova would again be deaf, the snuff damp, and the +countess' face yellow. Just as she needed to work off her spleen so +she had sometimes to exercise her still-existing faculty of +thinking--and the pretext for that was a game of patience. When she +needed to cry, the deceased count would be the pretext. When she +wanted to be agitated, Nicholas and his health would be the pretext, +and when she felt a need to speak spitefully, the pretext would be +Countess Mary. When her vocal organs needed exercise, which was +usually toward seven o'clock when she had had an after-dinner rest +in a darkened room, the pretext would be the retelling of the same +stories over and over again to the same audience. + +The old lady's condition was understood by the whole household +though no one ever spoke of it, and they all made every possible +effort to satisfy her needs. Only by a rare glance exchanged with a +sad smile between Nicholas, Pierre, Natasha, and Countess Mary was the +common understanding of her condition expressed. + +But those glances expressed something more: they said that she had +played her part in life, that what they now saw was not her whole +self, that we must all become like her, and that they were glad to +yield to her, to restrain themselves for this once precious being +formerly as full of life as themselves, but now so much to be +pitied. "Memento mori," said these glances. + +Only the really heartless, the stupid ones of that household, and +the little children failed to understand this and avoided her. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +When Pierre and his wife entered the drawing room the countess was +in one of her customary states in which she needed the mental exertion +of playing patience, and so--though by force of habit she greeted +him with the words she always used when Pierre or her son returned +after an absence: "High time, my dear, high time! We were all weary of +waiting for you. Well, thank God!" and received her presents with +another customary remark: "It's not the gift that's precious, my dear, +but that you give it to me, an old woman..."--yet it was evident +that she was not pleased by Pierre's arrival at that moment when it +diverted her attention from the unfinished game. + +She finished her game of patience and only then examined the +presents. They consisted of a box for cards, of splendid +workmanship, a bright-blue Sevres tea cup with shepherdesses +depicted on it and with a lid, and a gold snuffbox with the count's +portrait on the lid which Pierre had had done by a miniaturist in +Petersburg. The countess had long wished for such a box, but as she +did not want to cry just then she glanced indifferently at the +portrait and gave her attention chiefly to the box for cards. + +"Thank you, my dear, you have cheered me up," said she as she always +did. "But best of all you have brought yourself back--for I never +saw anything like it, you ought to give your wife a scolding! What are +we to do with her? She is like a mad woman when you are away. +Doesn't see anything, doesn't remember anything," she went on, +repeating her usual phrases. "Look, Anna Timofeevna," she added to her +companion, "see what a box for cards my son has brought us!" + +Belova admired the presents and was delighted with her dress +material. + +Though Pierre, Natasha, Nicholas, Countess Mary, and Denisov had +much to talk about that they could not discuss before the old +countess--not that anything was hidden from her, but because she had +dropped so far behindhand in many things that had they begun to +converse in her presence they would have had to answer inopportune +questions and to repeat what they had already told her many times: +that so-and-so was dead and so-and-so was married, which she would +again be unable to remember--yet they sat at tea round the samovar +in the drawing room from habit, and Pierre answered the countess' +questions as to whether Prince Vasili had aged and whether Countess +Mary Alexeevna had sent greetings and still thought of them, and other +matters that interested no one and to which she herself was +indifferent. + +Conversation of this kind, interesting to no one yet unavoidable, +continued all through teatime. All the grown-up members of the +family were assembled near the round tea table at which Sonya presided +beside the samovar. The children with their tutors and governesses had +had tea and their voices were audible from the next room. At tea all +sat in their accustomed places: Nicholas beside the stove at a small +table where his tea was handed to him; Milka, the old gray borzoi +bitch (daughter of the first Milka), with a quite gray face and +large black eyes that seemed more prominent than ever, lay on the +armchair beside him; Denisov, whose curly hair, mustache, and whiskers +had turned half gray, sat beside countess Mary with his general's +tunic unbuttoned; Pierre sat between his wife and the old countess. He +spoke of what he knew might interest the old lady and that she could +understand. He told her of external social events and of the people +who had formed the circle of her contemporaries and had once been a +real, living, and distinct group, but who were now for the most part +scattered about the world and like herself were garnering the last +ears of the harvests they had sown in earlier years. But to the old +countess those contemporaries of hers seemed to be the only serious +and real society. Natasha saw by Pierre's animation that his visit had +been interesting and that he had much to tell them but dare not say it +before the old countess. Denisov, not being a member of the family, +did not understand Pierre's caution and being, as a malcontent, much +interested in what was occurring in Petersburg, kept urging Pierre +to tell them about what had happened in the Semenovsk regiment, then +about Arakcheev, and then about the Bible Society. Once or twice +Pierre was carried away and began to speak of these things, but +Nicholas and Natasha always brought him back to the health of Prince +Ivan and Countess Mary Alexeevna. + +"Well, and all this idiocy--Gossner and Tatawinova?" Denisov +asked. "Is that weally still going on?" + +"Going on?" Pierre exclaimed. "Why more than ever! The Bible Society +is the whole government now!" + + "What is that, mon cher ami?" asked the countess, who had +finished her tea and evidently needed a pretext for being angry +after her meal. "What are you saying about the government? I don't +understand." + +"Well, you know, Maman," Nicholas interposed, knowing how to +translate things into his mother's language, "Prince Alexander +Golitsyn has founded a society and in consequence has great influence, +they say." + +"Arakcheev and Golitsyn," incautiously remarked Pierre, "are now the +whole government! And what a government! They see treason everywhere +and are afraid of everything." + +"Well, and how is Prince Alexander to blame? He is a most +estimable man. I used to meet him at Mary Antonovna's," said the +countess in an offended tone; and still more offended that they all +remained silent, she went on: "Nowadays everyone finds fault. A Gospel +Society! Well, and what harm is there in that?" and she rose +(everybody else got up too) and with a severe expression sailed back +to her table in the sitting room. + +The melancholy silence that followed was broken by the sounds of the +children's voices and laughter from the next room. Evidently some +jolly excitement was going on there. + +"Finished, finished!" little Natasha's gleeful yell rose above +them all. + +Pierre exchanged glances with Countess Mary and Nicholas (Natasha he +never lost sight of) and smiled happily. + +"That's delightful music!" said he. + +"It means that Anna Makarovna has finished her stocking," said +Countess Mary. + +"Oh, I'll go and see," said Pierre, jumping up. "You know," he +added, stopping at the door, "why I'm especially fond of that music? +It is always the first thing that tells me all is well. When I was +driving here today, the nearer I got to the house the more anxious I +grew. As I entered the anteroom I heard Andrusha's peals of laughter +and that meant that all was well." + +"I know! I know that feeling," said Nicholas. "But I mustn't go +there--those stockings are to be a surprise for me." + +Pierre went to the children, and the shouting and laughter grew +still louder. + +"Come, Anna Makarovna," Pierre's voice was heard saying, "come +here into the middle of the room and at the word of command, 'One, +two,' and when I say 'three'... You stand here, and you in my arms- +well now! One, two!..." said Pierre, and a silence followed: +"three!" and a rapturously breathless cry of children's voices +filled the room. "Two, two!" they shouted. + +This meant two stockings, which by a secret process known only to +herself Anna Makarovna used to knit at the same time on the same +needles, and which, when they were ready, she always triumphantly +drew, one out of the other, in the children's presence. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Soon after this the children came in to say good night. They +kissed everyone, the tutors and governesses made their bows, and +they went out. Only young Nicholas and his tutor remained. Dessalles +whispered to the boy to come downstairs. + +"No, Monsieur Dessalles, I will ask my aunt to let me stay," replied +Nicholas Bolkonski also in a whisper. + +"Ma tante, please let me stay," said he, going up to his aunt. + +His face expressed entreaty, agitation, and ecstasy. Countess Mary +glanced at him and turned to Pierre. + +"When you are here he can't tear himself away," she said. + +"I will bring him to you directly, Monsieur Dessalles. Good +night!" said Pierre, giving his hand to the Swiss tutor, and he turned +to young Nicholas with a smile. "You and I haven't seen anything of +one another yet... How like he is growing, Mary!" he added, addressing +Countess Mary. + +"Like my father?" asked the boy, flushing crimson and looking up +at Pierre with bright, ecstatic eyes. + +Pierre nodded, and went on with what he had been saying when the +children had interrupted. Countess Mary sat down doing woolwork; +Natasha did not take her eyes off her husband. Nicholas and Denisov +rose, asked for their pipes, smoked, went to fetch more tea from +Sonya--who sat weary but resolute at the samovar--and questioned +Pierre. The curly-headed, delicate boy sat with shining eyes unnoticed +in a corner, starting every now and then and muttering something to +himself, and evidently experiencing a new and powerful emotion as he +turned his curly head, with his thin neck exposed by his turn-down +collar, toward the place where Pierre sat. + +The conversation turned on the contemporary gossip about those in +power, in which most people see the chief interest of home politics. +Denisov, dissatisfied with the government on account of his own +disappointments in the service, heard with pleasure of the things done +in Petersburg which seemed to him stupid, and made forcible and +sharp comments on what Pierre told them. + +"One used to have to be a German--now one must dance with Tatawinova +and Madame Kwudener, and wead Ecka'tshausen and the bwethwen. Oh, they +should let that fine fellow Bonaparte lose--he'd knock all this +nonsense out of them! Fancy giving the command of the Semenov wegiment +to a fellow like that Schwa'tz!" he cried. + +Nicholas, though free from Denisov's readiness to find fault with +everything, also thought that discussion of the government was a +very serious and weighty matter, and the fact that A had been +appointed Minister of This and B Governor General of That, and that +the Emperor had said so-and-so and this minister so-and-so, seemed +to him very important. And so he thought it necessary to take an +interest in these things and to question Pierre. The questions put +by these two kept the conversation from changing its ordinary +character of gossip about the higher government circles. + +But Natasha, knowing all her husband's ways and ideas, saw that he +had long been wishing but had been unable to divert the conversation +to another channel and express his own deeply felt idea for the sake +of which he had gone to Petersburg to consult with his new friend +Prince Theodore, and she helped him by asking how his affairs with +Prince Theodore had gone. + +"What was it about?" asked Nicholas. + +"Always the same thing," said Pierre, looking round at his +listeners. "Everybody sees that things are going so badly that they +cannot be allowed to go on so and that it is the duty of all decent +men to counteract it as far as they can." + +"What can decent men do?" Nicholas inquired, frowning slightly. +"What can be done?" + +"Why, this..." + +"Come into my study," said Nicholas. + +Natasha, who had long expected to be fetched to nurse her baby, +now heard the nurse calling her and went to the nursery. Countess Mary +followed her. The men went into the study and little Nicholas +Bolkonski followed them unnoticed by his uncle and sat down at the +writing table in a shady corner by the window. + +"Well, what would you do?" asked Denisov. + +"Always some fantastic schemes," said Nicholas. + +"Why this," began Pierre, not sitting down but pacing the room, +sometimes stopping short, gesticulating, and lisping: "the position in +Petersburg is this: the Emperor does not look into anything. He has +abandoned himself altogether to this mysticism" (Pierre could not +tolerate mysticism in anyone now). "He seeks only for peace, and +only these people sans foi ni loi* can give it him--people who +recklessly hack at and strangle everything--Magnitski, Arakcheev, +and tutti quanti.... You will agree that if you did not look after +your estates yourself but only wanted a quiet life, the harsher your +steward was the more readily your object might be attained," he said +to Nicholas. + + +*Without faith or law. + + +"Well, what does that lead up to?" said Nicholas. + +"Well, everything is going to ruin! Robbery in the law courts, in +the army nothing but flogging, drilling, and Military Settlements; the +people are tortured, enlightenment is suppressed. All that is young +and honest is crushed! Everyone sees that this cannot go on. +Everything is strained to such a degree that it will certainly break," +said Pierre (as those who examine the actions of any government have +always said since governments began). "I told them just one thing in +Petersburg." + +"Told whom?" + +"Well, you know whom," said Pierre, with a meaning glance from under +his brows. "Prince Theodore and all those. To encourage culture and +philanthropy is all very well of course. The aim is excellent but in +the present circumstances something else is needed." + +At that moment Nicholas noticed the presence of his nephew. His face +darkened and he went up to the boy. + +"Why are you here?" + +"Why? Let him be," said Pierre, taking Nicholas by the arm and +continuing. "That is not enough, I told them. Something else is +needed. When you stand expecting the overstrained string to snap at +any moment, when everyone is expecting the inevitable catastrophe, +as many as possible must join hands as closely as they can to +withstand the general calamity. Everything that is young and strong is +being enticed away and depraved. One is lured by women, another by +honors, a third by ambition or money, and they go over to that camp. +No independent men, such as you or I, are left. What I say is widen +the scope of our society, let the mot d'ordre be not virtue alone +but independence and action as well!" + +Nicholas, who had left his nephew, irritably pushed up an +armchair, sat down in it, and listened to Pierre, coughing +discontentedly and frowning more and more. + +"But action with what aim?" he cried. "And what position will you +adopt toward the government?" + +"Why, the position of assistants. The society need not be secret +if the government allows it. Not merely is it not hostile to +government, but it is a society of true conservatives--a society of +gentlemen in the full meaning of that word. It is only to prevent some +Pugachev or other from killing my children and yours, and Arakcheev +from sending me off to some Military Settlement. We join hands only +for the public welfare and the general safety." + +"Yes, but it's a secret society and therefore a hostile and +harmful one which can only cause harm." + +"Why? Did the Tugendbund which saved Europe" (they did not then +venture to suggest that Russia had saved Europe) "do any harm? The +Tugendbund is an alliance of virtue: it is love, mutual help... it +is what Christ preached on the Cross." + +Natasha, who had come in during the conversation, looked joyfully at +her husband. It was not what he was saying that pleased her--that +did not even interest her, for it seemed to her that was all extremely +simple and that she had known it a long time (it seemed so to her +because she knew that it sprang from Pierre's whole soul), but it +was his animated and enthusiastic appearance that made her glad. + +The boy with the thin neck stretching out from the turn-down collar- +whom everyone had forgotten--gazed at Pierre with even greater and +more rapturous joy. Every word of Pierre's burned into his heart, +and with a nervous movement of his fingers he unconsciously broke +the sealing wax and quill pens his hands came upon on his uncle's +table. + +"It is not at all what you suppose; but that is what the German +Tugendbund was, and what I am proposing." + +"No, my fwiend! The Tugendbund is all vewy well for the sausage +eaters, but I don't understand it and can't even pwonounce it," +interposed Denisov in a loud and resolute voice. "I agwee that +evewything here is wotten and howwible, but the Tugendbund I don't +understand. If we're not satisfied, let us have a bunt of our own. +That's all wight. Je suis vot'e homme!"* + + +*"I'm your man." + + +Pierre smiled, Natasha began to laugh, but Nicholas knitted his +brows still more and began proving to Pierre that there was no +prospect of any great change and that all the danger he spoke of +existed only in his imagination. Pierre maintained the contrary, and +as his mental faculties were greater and more resourceful, Nicholas +felt himself cornered. This made him still angrier, for he was fully +convinced, not by reasoning but by something within him stronger +than reason, of the justice of his opinion. + +"I will tell you this," he said, rising and trying with nervously +twitching fingers to prop up his pipe in a corner, but finally +abandoning the attempt. "I can't prove it to you. You say that +everything here is rotten and that an overthrow is coming: I don't see +it. But you also say that our oath of allegiance is a conditional +matter, and to that I reply: 'You are my best friend, as you know, but +if you formed a secret society and began working against the +government--be it what it may--I know it is my duty to obey the +government. And if Arakcheev ordered me to lead a squadron against you +and cut you down, I should not hesitate an instant, but should do it.' +And you may argue about that as you like!" + +An awkward silence followed these words. Natasha was the first to +speak, defending her husband and attacking her brother. Her defense +was weak and inapt but she attained her object. The conversation was +resumed, and no longer in the unpleasantly hostile tone of Nicholas' +last remark. + +When they all got up to go in to supper, little Nicholas Bolkonski +went up to Pierre, pale and with shining, radiant eyes. + +"Uncle Pierre, you... no... If Papa were alive... would he agree +with you?" he asked. + +And Pierre suddenly realized what a special, independent, complex, +and powerful process of thought and feeling must have been going on in +this boy during that conversation, and remembering all he had said +he regretted that the lad should have heard him. He had, however, to +give him an answer. + +"Yes, I think so," he said reluctantly, and left the study. + +The lad looked down and seemed now for the first time to notice what +he had done to the things on the table. He flushed and went up to +Nicholas. + +"Uncle, forgive me, I did that... unintentionally," he said, +pointing to the broken sealing wax and pens. + +Nicholas started angrily. + +"All right, all right," he said, throwing the bits under the table. + +And evidently suppressing his vexation with difficulty, he turned +away from the boy. + +"You ought not to have been here at all," he said. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +The conversation at supper was not about politics or societies, +but turned on the subject Nicholas liked best--recollections of +1812. Denisov started these and Pierre was particularly agreeable +and amusing about them. The family separated on the most friendly +terms. + +After supper Nicholas, having undressed in his study and given +instructions to the steward who had been waiting for him, went to +the bedroom in his dressing gown, where he found his wife still at her +table, writing. + +"What are you writing, Mary?" Nicholas asked. + +Countess Mary blushed. She was afraid that what she was writing +would not be understood or approved by her husband. + +She had wanted to conceal what she was writing from him, but at +the same time was glad he had surprised her at it and that she would +now have to tell him. + +"A diary, Nicholas," she replied, handing him a blue exercise book +filled with her firm, bold writing. + +"A diary?" Nicholas repeated with a shade of irony, and he took up +the book. + +It was in French. + + +December 4. Today when Andrusha (her eldest boy) woke up he did +not wish to dress and Mademoiselle Louise sent for me. He was +naughty and obstinate. I tried threats, but he only grew angrier. Then +I took the matter in hand: I left him alone and began with nurse's +help to get the other children up, telling him that I did not love +him. For a long time he was silent, as if astonished, then he jumped +out of bed, ran to me in his shirt, and sobbed so that I could not +calm him for a long time. It was plain that what troubled him most was +that he had grieved me. Afterwards in the evening when I gave him +his ticket, he again began crying piteously and kissing me. One can do +anything with him by tenderness. + + +"What is a 'ticket'?" Nicholas inquired. + +"I have begun giving the elder ones marks every evening, showing how +they have behaved." + +Nicholas looked into the radiant eyes that were gazing at him, and +continued to turn over the pages and read. In the diary was set down +everything in the children's lives that seemed noteworthy to their +mother as showing their characters or suggesting general reflections +on educational methods. They were for the most part quite +insignificant trifles, but did not seem so to the mother or to the +father either, now that he read this diary about his children for +the first time. + +Under the date "5" was entered: + + +Mitya was naughty at table. Papa said he was to have no pudding. +He had none, but looked so unhappily and greedily at the others +while they were eating! I think that punishment by depriving +children of sweets only develops their greediness. Must tell +Nicholas this. + + +Nicholas put down the book and looked at his wife. The radiant +eyes gazed at him questioningly: would he approve or disapprove of her +diary? There could be no doubt not only of his approval but also of +his admiration for his wife. + +Perhaps it need not be done so pedantically, thought Nicholas, or +even done at all, but this untiring, continual spiritual effort of +which the sole aim was the children's moral welfare delighted him. Had +Nicholas been able to analyze his feelings he would have found that +his steady, tender, and proud love of his wife rested on his feeling +of wonder at her spirituality and at the lofty moral world, almost +beyond his reach, in which she had her being. + +He was proud of her intelligence and goodness, recognized his own +insignificance beside her in the spiritual world, and rejoiced all the +more that she with such a soul not only belonged to him but was part +of himself. + +"I quite, quite approve, my dearest!" said he with a significant +look, and after a short pause he added: "And I behaved badly today. +You weren't in the study. We began disputing--Pierre and I--and I lost +my temper. But he is impossible: such a child! I don't know what would +become of him if Natasha didn't keep him in hand.... Have you any idea +why he went to Petersburg? They have formed..." + +"Yes, I know," said Countess Mary. "Natasha told me." + +"Well, then, you know," Nicholas went on, growing hot at the mere +recollection of their discussion, "he wanted to convince me that it is +every honest man's duty to go against the government, and that the +oath of allegiance and duty... I am sorry you weren't there. They +all fell on me--Denisov and Natasha... Natasha is absurd. How she +rules over him! And yet there need only be a discussion and she has no +words of her own but only repeats his sayings..." added Nicholas, +yielding to that irresistible inclination which tempts us to judge +those nearest and dearest to us. He forgot that what he was saying +about Natasha could have been applied word for word to himself in +relation to his wife. + +"Yes, I have noticed that," said Countess Mary. + +"When I told him that duty and the oath were above everything, he +started proving goodness knows what! A pity you were not there--what +would you have said?" + +"As I see it you were quite right, and I told Natasha so. Pierre +says everybody is suffering, tortured, and being corrupted, and that +it is our duty to help our neighbor. Of course he is right there," +said Countess Mary, "but he forgets that we have other duties nearer +to us, duties indicated to us by God Himself, and that though we might +expose ourselves to risks we must not risk our children." + +"Yes, that's it! That's just what I said to him," put in Nicholas, +who fancied he really had said it. "But they insisted on their own +view: love of one's neighbor and Christianity--and all this in the +presence of young Nicholas, who had gone into my study and broke all +my things." + +"Ah, Nicholas, do you know I am often troubled about little +Nicholas," said Countess Mary. "He is such an exceptional boy. I am +afraid I neglect him in favor of my own: we all have children and +relations while he has no one. He is constantly alone with his +thoughts." + +"Well, I don't think you need reproach yourself on his account. +All that the fondest mother could do for her son you have done and are +doing for him, and of course I am glad of it. He is a fine lad, a fine +lad! This evening he listened to Pierre in a sort of trance, and +fancy--as we were going in to supper I looked and he had broken +everything on my table to bits, and he told me of it himself at +once! I never knew him to tell an untruth. A fine lad, a fine lad!" +repeated Nicholas, who at heart was not fond of Nicholas Bolkonski but +was always anxious to recognize that he was a fine lad. + +"Still, I am not the same as his own mother," said Countess Mary. "I +feel I am not the same and it troubles me. A wonderful boy, but I am +dreadfully afraid for him. It would be good for him to have +companions." + +"Well it won't be for long. Next summer I'll take him to +Petersburg," said Nicholas. "Yes, Pierre always was a dreamer and +always will be," he continued, returning to the talk in the study +which had evidently disturbed him. "Well, what business is it of +mine what goes on there--whether Arakcheev is bad, and all that? +What business was it of mine when I married and was so deep in debt +that I was threatened with prison, and had a mother who could not +see or understand it? And then there are you and the children and +our affairs. Is it for my own pleasure that I am at the farm or in the +office from morning to night? No, but I know I must work to comfort my +mother, to repay you, and not to leave the children such beggars as +I was." + +Countess Mary wanted to tell him that man does not live by bread +alone and that he attached too much importance to these matters. But +she knew she must not say this and that it would be useless to do +so. She only took his hand and kissed it. He took this as a sign of +approval and a confirmation of his thoughts, and after a few +minutes' reflection continued to think aloud. + +"You know, Mary, today Elias Mitrofanych" (this was his overseer) +"came back from the Tambov estate and told me they are already +offering eighty thousand rubles for the forest." + +And with an eager face Nicholas began to speak of the possibility of +repurchasing Otradnoe before long, and added: "Another ten years of +life and I shall leave the children... in an excellent position." + +Countess Mary listened to her husband and understood all that he +told her. She knew that when he thought aloud in this way he would +sometimes ask her what he had been saying, and be vexed if he +noticed that she had been thinking about something else. But she had +to force herself to attend, for what he was saying did not interest +her at all. She looked at him and did not think, but felt, about +something different. She felt a submissive tender love for this man +who would never understand all that she understood, and this seemed to +make her love for him still stronger and added a touch of passionate +tenderness. Besides this feeling which absorbed her altogether and +hindered her from following the details of her husband's plans, +thoughts that had no connection with what he was saying flitted +through her mind. She thought of her nephew. Her husband's account +of the boy's agitation while Pierre was speaking struck her +forcibly, and various traits of his gentle, sensitive character +recurred to her mind; and while thinking of her nephew she thought +also of her own children. She did not compare them with him, but +compared her feeling for them with her feeling for him, and felt +with regret that there was something lacking in her feeling for +young Nicholas. + +Sometimes it seemed to her that this difference arose from the +difference in their ages, but she felt herself to blame toward him and +promised in her heart to do better and to accomplish the impossible- +in this life to love her husband, her children, little Nicholas, and +all her neighbors, as Christ loved mankind. Countess Mary's soul +always strove toward the infinite, the eternal, and the absolute, +and could therefore never be at peace. A stern expression of the +lofty, secret suffering of a soul burdened by the body appeared on her +face. Nicholas gazed at her. "O God! What will become of us if she +dies, as I always fear when her face is like that?" thought he, and +placing himself before the icon he began to say his evening prayers. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Natasha and Pierre, left alone, also began to talk as only a husband +and wife can talk, that is, with extraordinary clearness and rapidity, +understanding and expressing each other's thoughts in ways contrary to +all rules of logic, without premises, deductions, or conclusions, +and in a quite peculiar way. Natasha was so used to this kind of +talk with her husband that for her it was the surest sign of something +being wrong between them if Pierre followed a line of logical +reasoning. When he began proving anything, or talking +argumentatively and calmly and she, led on by his example, began to do +the same, she knew that they were on the verge of a quarrel. + +From the moment they were alone and Natasha came up to him with +wide-open happy eyes, and quickly seizing his head pressed it to her +bosom, saying: "Now you are all mine, mine! You won't escape!"--from +that moment this conversation began, contrary to all the laws of logic +and contrary to them because quite different subjects were talked +about at one and the same time. This simultaneous discussion of many +topics did not prevent a clear understanding but on the contrary was +the surest sign that they fully understood one another. + +Just as in a dream when all is uncertain, unreasoning, and +contradictory, except the feeling that guides the dream, so in this +intercourse contrary to all laws of reason, the words themselves +were not consecutive and clear but only the feeling that prompted +them. + +Natasha spoke to Pierre about her brother's life and doings, of +how she had suffered and lacked life during his own absence, and of +how she was fonder than ever of Mary, and how Mary was in every way +better than herself. In saying this Natasha was sincere in +acknowledging Mary's superiority, but at the same time by saying it +she made a demand on Pierre that he should, all the same, prefer her +to Mary and to all other women, and that now, especially after +having seen many women in Petersburg, he should tell her so afresh. + +Pierre, answering Natasha's words, told her how intolerable it had +been for him to meet ladies at dinners and balls in Petersburg. + +"I have quite lost the knack of talking to ladies," he said. "It was +simply dull. Besides, I was very busy." + +Natasha looked intently at him and went on: + +"Mary is so splendid," she said. "How she understands children! It +is as if she saw straight into their souls. Yesterday, for instance, +Mitya was naughty..." + +"How like his father he is," Pierre interjected. + +Natasha knew why he mentioned Mitya's likeness to Nicholas: the +recollection of his dispute with his brother-in-law was unpleasant and +he wanted to know what Natasha thought of it. + +"Nicholas has the weakness of never agreeing with anything not +generally accepted. But I understand that you value what opens up a +fresh line," said she, repeating words Pierre had once uttered. + +"No, the chief point is that to Nicholas ideas and discussions are +an amusement--almost a pastime," said Pierre. "For instance, he is +collecting a library and has made it a rule not to buy a new book till +he has read what he had already bought--Sismondi and Rousseau and +Montesquieu," he added with a smile. "You know how much I..." he began +to soften down what he had said; but Natasha interrupted him to show +that this was unnecessary. + +"So you say ideas are an amusement to him...." + +"Yes, and for me nothing else is serious. All the time in Petersburg +I saw everyone as in a dream. When I am taken up by a thought, all +else is mere amusement." + +"Ah, I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you met the children," said +Natasha. "Which was most delighted? Lisa, I'm sure." + +"Yes," Pierre replied, and went on with what was in his mind. +"Nicholas says we ought not to think. But I can't help it. Besides, +when I was in Petersburg I felt (I can this to you) that the whole +affair would go to pieces without me--everyone was pulling his own +way. But I succeeded in uniting them all; and then my idea is so clear +and simple. You see, I don't say that we ought to oppose this and +that. We may be mistaken. What I say is: 'Join hands, you who love the +right, and let there be but one banner--that of active virtue.' Prince +Sergey is a fine fellow and clever." + +Natasha would have had no doubt as to the greatness of Pierre's +idea, but one thing disconcerted her. "Can a man so important and +necessary to society be also my husband? How did this happen?" She +wished to express this doubt to him. "Now who could decide whether +he is really cleverer than all the others?" she asked herself, and +passed in review all those whom Pierre most respected. Judging by what +he had said there was no one he had respected so highly as Platon +Karataev. + +"Do you know what I am thinking about?" she asked. "About Platon +Karataev. Would he have approved of you now, do you think?" + +Pierre was not at all surprised at this question. He understood +his wife's line of thought. + +"Platon Karataev?" he repeated, and pondered, evidently sincerely +trying to imagine Karataev's opinion on the subject. "He would not +have understood... yet perhaps he would." + +"I love you awfully!" Natasha suddenly said. "Awfully, awfully!" + +"No, he would not have approved," said Pierre, after reflection. +"What he would have approved of is our family life. He was always so +anxious to find seemliness, happiness, and peace in everything, and +I should have been proud to let him see us. There now--you talk of +my absence, but you wouldn't believe what a special feeling I have for +you after a separation...." + +"Yes, I should think..." Natasha began. + +"No, it's not that. I never leave off loving you. And one couldn't +love more, but this is something special.... Yes, of course-" he did +not finish because their eyes meeting said the rest. + +"What nonsense it is," Natasha suddenly exclaimed, "about +honeymoons, and that the greatest happiness is at first! On the +contrary, now is the best of all. If only you did not go away! Do +you remember how we quarreled? And it was always my fault. Always +mine. And what we quarreled about--I don't even remember!" + +"Always about the same thing," said Pierre with a smile. "Jealo..." + +"Don't say it! I can't bear it!" Natasha cried, and her eyes +glittered coldly and vindictively. "Did you see her?" she added, after +a pause. + +"No, and if I had I shouldn't have recognized her." + +They were silent for a while. + +"Oh, do you know? While you were talking in the study I was +looking at you," Natasha began, evidently anxious to disperse the +cloud that had come over them. "You are as like him as two peas- +like the boy." (She meant her little son.) "Oh, it's time to go to +him.... The milk's come.... But I'm sorry to leave you." + +They were silent for a few seconds. Then suddenly turning to one +another at the same time they both began to speak. Pierre began with +self-satisfaction and enthusiasm, Natasha with a quiet, happy smile. +Having interrupted one another they both stopped to let the other +continue. + +"No. What did you say? Go on, go on." + +"No, you go on, I was talking nonsense," said Natasha. + +Pierre finished what he had begun. It was the sequel to his +complacent reflections on his success in Petersburg. At that moment it +seemed to him that he was chosen to give a new direction to the +whole of Russian society and to the whole world. + +"I only wished to say that ideas that have great results are +always simple ones. My whole idea is that if vicious people are united +and constitute a power, then honest folk must do the same. Now +that's simple enough." + +"Yes." + +"And what were you going to say?" + +"I? Only nonsense." + +"But all the same?" + +"Oh nothing, only a trifle," said Natasha, smilingly still more +brightly. "I only wanted to tell you about Petya: today nurse was +coming to take him from me, and he laughed, shut his eyes, and clung +to me. I'm sure he thought he was hiding. Awfully sweet! There, now +he's crying. Well, good-by!" and she left the room. + + +Meanwhile downstairs in young Nicholas Bolkonski's bedroom a +little lamp was burning as usual. (The boy was afraid of the dark +and they could not cure him of it.) Dessalles slept propped up on four +pillows and his Roman nose emitted sounds of rhythmic snoring. +Little Nicholas, who had just waked up in a cold perspiration, sat +up in bed and gazed before him with wide-open eyes. He had awaked from +a terrible dream. He had dreamed that he and Uncle Pierre, wearing +helmets such as were depicted in his Plutarch, were leading a huge +army. The army was made up of white slanting lines that filled the air +like the cobwebs that float about in autumn and which Dessalles called +les fils de la Vierge. In front was Glory, which was similar to +those threads but rather thicker. He and Pierre were borne along +lightly and joyously, nearer and nearer to their goal. Suddenly the +threads that moved them began to slacken and become entangled and it +grew difficult to move. And Uncle Nicholas stood before them in a +stern and threatening attitude. + +"Have you done this?" he said, pointing to some broken sealing wax +and pens. "I loved you, but I have orders from Arakcheev and will kill +the first of you who moves forward." Little Nicholas turned to look at +Pierre but Pierre was no longer there. In his place was his father- +Prince Andrew--and his father had neither shape nor form, but he +existed, and when little Nicholas perceived him he grew faint with +love: he felt himself powerless, limp, and formless. His father +caressed and pitied him. But Uncle Nicholas came nearer and nearer +to them. Terror seized young Nicholas and he awoke. + +"My father!" he thought. (Though there were two good portraits of +Prince Andrew in the house, Nicholas never imagined him in human +form.) "My father has been with me and caressed me. He approved of +me and of Uncle Pierre. Whatever he may tell me, I will do it. +Mucius Scaevola burned his hand. Why should not the same sort of thing +happen to me? I know they want me to learn. And I will learn. But +someday I shall have finished learning, and then I will do +something. I only pray God that something may happen to me such as +happened to Plutarch's men, and I will act as they did. I will do +better. Everyone shall know me, love me, and be delighted with me!" +And suddenly his bosom heaved with sobs and he began to cry. + +"Are you ill?" he heard Dessalles' voice asking. + +"No," answered Nicholas, and lay back on his pillow. + +"He is good and kind and I am fond of him!" he thought of Dessalles. +"But Uncle Pierre! Oh, what a wonderful man he is! And my father? +Oh, Father, Father! Yes, I will do something with which even he +would be satisfied...." + + + + + + + +SECOND EPILOGUE + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +History is the life of nations and of humanity. To seize and put +into words, to describe directly the life of humanity or even of a +single nation, appears impossible. + +The ancient historians all employed one and the same method to +describe and seize the apparently elusive--the life of a people. +They described the activity of individuals who ruled the people, and +regarded the activity of those men as representing the activity of the +whole nation. + +The question: how did individuals make nations act as they wished +and by what was the will of these individuals themselves guided? the +ancients met by recognizing a divinity which subjected the nations +to the will of a chosen man, and guided the will of that chosen man so +as to accomplish ends that were predestined. + +For the ancients these questions were solved by a belief in the +direct participation of the Deity in human affairs. + +Modern history, in theory, rejects both these principles. + +It would seem that having rejected the belief of the ancients in +man's subjection to the Deity and in a predetermined aim toward +which nations are led, modern history should study not the +manifestations of power but the causes that produce it. But modern +history has not done this. Having in theory rejected the view held +by the ancients, it still follows them in practice. + +Instead of men endowed with divine authority and directly guided +by the will of God, modern history has given us either heroes +endowed with extraordinary, superhuman capacities, or simply men of +very various kinds, from monarchs to journalists, who lead the masses. +Instead of the former divinely appointed aims of the Jewish, Greek, or +Roman nations, which ancient historians regarded as representing the +progress of humanity, modern history has postulated its own aims- +the welfare of the French, German, or English people, or, in its +highest abstraction, the welfare and civilization of humanity in +general, by which is usually meant that of the peoples occupying a +small northwesterly portion of a large continent. + +Modern history has rejected the beliefs of the ancients without +replacing them by a new conception, and the logic of the situation has +obliged the historians, after they had apparently rejected the +divine authority of the kings and the "fate" of the ancients, to reach +the same conclusion by another road, that is, to recognize (1) nations +guided by individual men, and (2) the existence of a known aim to +which these nations and humanity at large are tending. + +At the basis of the works of all the modern historians from Gibbon +to Buckle, despite their seeming disagreements and the apparent +novelty of their outlooks, lie those two old, unavoidable assumptions. + +In the first place the historian describes the activity of +individuals who in his opinion have directed humanity (one historian +considers only monarchs, generals, and ministers as being such men, +while another includes also orators, learned men, reformers, +philosophers, and poets). Secondly, it is assumed that the goal toward +which humanity is being led is known to the historians: to one of them +this goal is the greatness of the Roman, Spanish, or French realm; +to another it is liberty, equality, and a certain kind of civilization +of a small corner of the world called Europe. + +In 1789 a ferment arises in Paris; it grows, spreads, and is +expressed by a movement of peoples from west to east. Several times it +moves eastward and collides with a countermovement from the east +westward. In 1812 it reaches its extreme limit, Moscow, and then, with +remarkable symmetry, a countermovement occurs from east to west, +attracting to it, as the first movement had done, the nations of +middle Europe. The counter movement reaches the starting point of +the first movement in the west--Paris--and subsides. + +During that twenty-year period an immense number of fields were left +untilled, houses were burned, trade changed its direction, millions of +men migrated, were impoverished, or were enriched, and millions of +Christian men professing the law of love of their fellows slew one +another. + +What does all this mean? Why did it happen? What made those people +burn houses and slay their fellow men? What were the causes of these +events? What force made men act so? These are the instinctive, +plain, and most legitimate questions humanity asks itself when it +encounters the monuments and tradition of that period. + +For a reply to these questions the common sense of mankind turns +to the science of history, whose aim is to enable nations and humanity +to know themselves. + +If history had retained the conception of the ancients it would have +said that God, to reward or punish his people, gave Napoleon power and +directed his will to the fulfillment of the divine ends, and that +reply, would have been clear and complete. One might believe or +disbelieve in the divine significance of Napoleon, but for anyone +believing in it there would have been nothing unintelligible in the +history of that period, nor would there have been any contradictions. + +But modern history cannot give that reply. Science does not admit +the conception of the ancients as to the direct participation of the +Deity in human affairs, and therefore history ought to give other +answers. + +Modern history replying to these questions says: you want to know +what this movement means, what caused it, and what force produced +these events? Then listen: + +"Louis XIV was a very proud and self-confident man; he had such +and such mistresses and such and such ministers and he ruled France +badly. His descendants were weak men and they too ruled France +badly. And they had such and such favorites and such and such +mistresses. Moreover, certain men wrote some books at that time. At +the end of the eighteenth century there were a couple of dozen men +in Paris who began to talk about all men being free and equal. This +caused people all over France to begin to slash at and drown one +another. They killed the king and many other people. At that time +there was in France a man of genius--Napoleon. He conquered +everybody everywhere--that is, he killed many people because he was +a great genius. And for some reason he went to kill Africans, and +killed them so well and was so cunning and wise that when he +returned to France he ordered everybody to obey him, and they all +obeyed him. Having become an Emperor he again went out to kill +people in Italy, Austria, and Prussia. And there too he killed a great +many. In Russia there was an Emperor, Alexander, who decided to +restore order in Europe and therefore fought against Napoleon. In 1807 +he suddenly made friends with him, but in 1811 they again quarreled +and again began killing many people. Napoleon led six hundred thousand +men into Russia and captured Moscow; then he suddenly ran away from +Moscow, and the Emperor Alexander, helped by the advice of Stein and +others, united Europe to arm against the disturber of its peace. All +Napoleon's allies suddenly became his enemies and their forces +advanced against the fresh forces he raised. The Allies defeated +Napoleon, entered Paris, forced Napoleon to abdicate, and sent him +to the island of Elba, not depriving him of the title of Emperor and +showing him every respect, though five years before and one year later +they all regarded him as an outlaw and a brigand. Then Louis XVIII, +who till then had been the laughingstock both of the French and the +Allies, began to reign. And Napoleon, shedding tears before his Old +Guards, renounced the throne and went into exile. Then the skillful +statesmen and diplomatists (especially Talleyrand, who managed to +sit down in a particular chair before anyone else and thereby extended +the frontiers of France) talked in Vienna and by these conversations +made the nations happy or unhappy. Suddenly the diplomatists and +monarchs nearly quarreled and were on the point of again ordering +their armies to kill one another, but just then Napoleon arrived in +France with a battalion, and the French, who had been hating him, +immediately all submitted to him. But the Allied monarchs were angry +at this and went to fight the French once more. And they defeated +the genius Napoleon and, suddenly recognizing him as a brigand, sent +him to the island of St. Helena. And the exile, separated from the +beloved France so dear to his heart, died a lingering death on that +rock and bequeathed his great deeds to posterity. But in Europe a +reaction occurred and the sovereigns once again all began to oppress +their subjects." + +It would be a mistake to think that this is ironic--a caricature +of the historical accounts. On the contrary it is a very mild +expression of the contradictory replies, not meeting the questions, +which all the historians give, from the compilers of memoirs and the +histories of separate states to the writers of general histories and +the new histories of the culture of that period. + +The strangeness and absurdity of these replies arise from the fact +that modern history, like a deaf man, answers questions no one has +asked. + +If the purpose of history be to give a description of the movement +of humanity and of the peoples, the first question--in the absence +of a reply to which all the rest will be incomprehensible--is: what is +the power that moves peoples? To this, modern history laboriously +replies either that Napoleon was a great genius, or that Louis XIV was +very proud, or that certain writers wrote certain books. + +All that may be so and mankind is ready to agree with it, but it +is not what was asked. All that would be interesting if we +recognized a divine power based on itself and always consistently +directing its nations through Napoleons, Louis-es, and writers; but we +do not acknowledge such a power, and therefore before speaking about +Napoleons, Louis-es, and authors, we ought to be shown the +connection existing between these men and the movement of the nations. + +If instead of a divine power some other force has appeared, it +should be explained in what this new force consists, for the whole +interest of history lies precisely in that force. + +History seems to assume that this force is self-evident and known to +everyone. But in spite of every desire to regard it as known, anyone +reading many historical works cannot help doubting whether this new +force, so variously understood by the historians themselves, is really +quite well known to everybody. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +What force moves the nations? + +Biographical historians and historians of separate nations +understand this force as a power inherent in heroes and rulers. In +their narration events occur solely by the will of a Napoleon, and +Alexander, or in general of the persons they describe. The answers +given by this kind of historian to the question of what force causes +events to happen are satisfactory only as long as there is but one +historian to each event. As soon as historians of different +nationalities and tendencies begin to describe the same event, the +replies they give immediately lose all meaning, for this force is +understood by them all not only differently but often in quite +contradictory ways. One historian says that an event was produced by +Napoleon's power, another that it was produced by Alexander's, a third +that it was due to the power of some other person. Besides this, +historians of that kind contradict each other even in their +statement as to the force on which the authority of some particular +person was based. Thiers, a Bonapartist, says that Napoleon's power +was based on his virtue and genius. Lanfrey, a Republican, says it was +based on his trickery and deception of the people. So the historians +of this class, by mutually destroying one another's positions, destroy +the understanding of the force which produces events, and furnish no +reply to history's essential question. + +Writers of universal history who deal with all the nations seem to +recognize how erroneous is the specialist historians' view of the +force which produces events. They do not recognize it as a power +inherent in heroes and rulers, but as the resultant of a +multiplicity of variously directed forces. In describing a war or +the subjugation of a people, a general historian looks for the cause +of the event not in the power of one man, but in the interaction of +many persons connected with the event. + +According to this view the power of historical personages, +represented as the product of many forces, can no longer, it would +seem, be regarded as a force that itself produces events. Yet in +most cases universal historians still employ the conception of power +as a force that itself produces events, and treat it as their cause. +In their exposition, an historic character is first the product of his +time, and his power only the resultant of various forces, and then his +power is itself a force producing events. Gervinus, Schlosser, and +others, for instance, at one time prove Napoleon to be a product of +the Revolution, of the ideas of 1789 and so forth, and at another +plainly say that the campaign of 1812 and other things they do not +like were simply the product of Napoleon's misdirected will, and +that the very ideas of 1789 were arrested in their development by +Napoleon's caprice. The ideas of the Revolution and the general temper +of the age produced Napoleon's power. But Napoleon's power +suppressed the ideas of the Revolution and the general temper of the +age. + +This curious contradiction is not accidental. Not only does it occur +at every step, but the universal historians' accounts are all made +up of a chain of such contradictions. This contradiction occurs +because after entering the field of analysis the universal +historians stop halfway. + +To find component forces equal to the composite or resultant +force, the sum of the components must equal the resultant. This +condition is never observed by the universal historians, and so to +explain the resultant forces they are obliged to admit, in addition to +the insufficient components, another unexplained force affecting the +resultant action. + +Specialist historians describing the campaign of 1813 or the +restoration of the Bourbons plainly assert that these events were +produced by the will of Alexander. But the universal historian +Gervinus, refuting this opinion of the specialist historian, tries +to prove that the campaign of 1813 and the restoration of the Bourbons +were due to other things beside Alexander's will--such as the activity +of Stein, Metternich, Madame de Stael, Talleyrand, Fichte +Chateaubriand, and others. The historian evidently decomposes +Alexander's power into the components: Talleyrand, Chateaubriand, +and the rest--but the sum of the components, that is, the interactions +of Chateaubriand, Talleyrand, Madame de Stael, and the others, +evidently does not equal the resultant, namely the phenomenon of +millions of Frenchmen submitting to the Bourbons. That +Chateaubriand, Madame de Stael, and others spoke certain words to +one another only affected their mutual relations but does not +account for the submission of millions. And therefore to explain how +from these relations of theirs the submission of millions of people +resulted--that is, how component forces equal to one A gave a +resultant equal to a thousand times A--the historian is again +obliged to fall back on power--the force he had denied--and to +recognize it as the resultant of the forces, that is, he has to +admit an unexplained force acting on the resultant. And that is just +what the universal historians do, and consequently they not only +contradict the specialist historians but contradict themselves. + +Peasants having no clear idea of the cause of rain, say, according +to whether they want rain or fine weather: "The wind has blown the +clouds away," or, "The wind has brought up the clouds." And in the +same way the universal historians sometimes, when it pleases them +and fits in with their theory, say that power is the result of events, +and sometimes, when they want to prove something else, say that +power produces events. + +A third class of historians--the so-called historians of culture- +following the path laid down by the universal historians who sometimes +accept writers and ladies as forces producing events--again take +that force to be something quite different. They see it in what is +called culture--in mental activity. + +The historians of culture are quite consistent in regard to their +progenitors, the writers of universal histories, for if historical +events may be explained by the fact that certain persons treated one +another in such and such ways, why not explain them by the fact that +such and such people wrote such and such books? Of the immense +number of indications accompanying every vital phenomenon, these +historians select the indication of intellectual activity and say that +this indication is the cause. But despite their endeavors to prove +that the cause of events lies in intellectual activity, only by a +great stretch can one admit that there is any connection between +intellectual activity and the movement of peoples, and in no case +can one admit that intellectual activity controls people's actions, +for that view is not confirmed by such facts as the very cruel murders +of the French Revolution resulting from the doctrine of the equality +of man, or the very cruel wars and executions resulting from the +preaching of love. + +But even admitting as correct all the cunningly devised arguments +with which these histories are filled--admitting that nations are +governed by some undefined force called an idea--history's essential +question still remains unanswered, and to the former power of monarchs +and to the influence of advisers and other people introduced by the +universal historians, another, newer force--the idea--is added, the +connection of which with the masses needs explanation. It is +possible to understand that Napoleon had power and so events occurred; +with some effort one may even conceive that Napoleon together with +other influences was the cause of an event; but how a book, Le Contrat +social, had the effect of making Frenchmen begin to drown one +another cannot be understood without an explanation of the causal +nexus of this new force with the event. + +Undoubtedly some relation exists between all who live +contemporaneously, and so it is possible to find some connection +between the intellectual activity of men and their historical +movements, just as such a connection may be found between the +movements of humanity and commerce, handicraft, gardening, or anything +else you please. But why intellectual activity is considered by the +historians of culture to be the cause or expression of the whole +historical movement is hard to understand. Only the following +considerations can have led the historians to such a conclusion: (1) +that history is written by learned men, and so it is natural and +agreeable for them to think that the activity of their class +supplies the basis of the movement of all humanity, just as a +similar belief is natural and agreeable to traders, agriculturists, +and soldiers (if they do not express it, that is merely because +traders and soldiers do not write history), and (2) that spiritual +activity, enlightenment, civilization, culture, ideas, are all +indistinct, indefinite conceptions under whose banner it is very +easy to use words having a still less definite meaning, and which +can therefore be readily introduced into any theory. + +But not to speak of the intrinsic quality of histories of this +kind (which may possibly even be of use to someone for something) +the histories of culture, to which all general histories tend more and +more to approximate, are significant from the fact that after +seriously and minutely examining various religious, philosophic, and +political doctrines as causes of events, as soon as they have to +describe an actual historic event such as the campaign of 1812 for +instance, they involuntarily describe it as resulting from an exercise +of power--and say plainly that that was the result of Napoleon's will. +Speaking so, the historians of culture involuntarily contradict +themselves, and show that the new force they have devised does not +account for what happens in history, and that history can only be +explained by introducing a power which they apparently do not +recognize. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +A locomotive is moving. Someone asks: "What moves it?" A peasant +says the devil moves it. Another man says the locomotive moves because +its wheels go round. A third asserts that the cause of its movement +lies in the smoke which the wind carries away. + +The peasant is irrefutable. He has devised a complete explanation. +To refute him someone would have to prove to him that there is no +devil, or another peasant would have to explain to him that it is +not the devil but a German, who moves the locomotive. Only then, as +a result of the contradiction, will they see that they are both wrong. +But the man who says that the movement of the wheels is the cause +refutes himself, for having once begun to analyze he ought to go on +and explain further why the wheels go round; and till he has reached +the ultimate cause of the movement of the locomotive in the pressure +of steam in the boiler, he has no right to stop in his search for +the cause. The man who explains the movement of the locomotive by +the smoke that is carried back has noticed that the wheels do not +supply an explanation and has taken the first sign that occurs to +him and in his turn has offered that as an explanation. + +The only conception that can explain the movement of the +locomotive is that of a force commensurate with the movement observed. + +The only conception that can explain the movement of the peoples +is that of some force commensurate with the whole movement of the +peoples. + +Yet to supply this conception various historians take forces of +different kinds, all of which are incommensurate with the movement +observed. Some see it as a force directly inherent in heroes, as the +peasant sees the devil in the locomotive; others as a force +resulting from several other forces, like the movement of the +wheels; others again as an intellectual influence, like the smoke that +is blown away. + +So long as histories are written of separate individuals, whether +Caesars, Alexanders, Luthers, or Voltaires, and not the histories of +all, absolutely all those who take part in an event, it is quite +impossible to describe the movement of humanity without the conception +of a force compelling men to direct their activity toward a certain +end. And the only such conception known to historians is that of +power. + +This conception is the one handle by means of which the material +of history, as at present expounded, can be dealt with, and anyone who +breaks that handle off, as Buckle did, without finding some other +method of treating historical material, merely deprives himself of the +one possible way of dealing with it. The necessity of the conception +of power as an explanation of historical events is best demonstrated +by the universal historians and historians of culture themselves, +for they professedly reject that conception but inevitably have +recourse to it at every step. + +In dealing with humanity's inquiry, the science of history up to now +is like money in circulation--paper money and coin. The biographies +and special national histories are like paper money. They can be +used and can circulate and fulfill their purpose without harm to +anyone and even advantageously, as long as no one asks what is the +security behind them. You need only forget to ask how the will of +heroes produces events, and such histories as Thiers' will be +interesting and instructive and may perhaps even possess a tinge of +poetry. But just as doubts of the real value of paper money arise +either because, being easy to make, too much of it gets made or +because people try to exchange it for gold, so also doubts +concerning the real value of such histories arise either because too +many of them are written or because in his simplicity of heart someone +inquires: by what force did Napoleon do this?--that is, wants to +exchange the current paper money for the real gold of actual +comprehension. + +The writers of universal histories and of the history of culture are +like people who, recognizing the defects of paper money, decide to +substitute for it money made of metal that has not the specific +gravity of gold. It may indeed make jingling coin, but will do no more +than that. Paper money may deceive the ignorant, but nobody is +deceived by tokens of base metal that have no value but merely jingle. +As gold is gold only if it is serviceable not merely for exchange +but also for use, so universal historians will be valuable only when +they can reply to history's essential question: what is power? The +universal historians give contradictory replies to that question, +while the historians of culture evade it and answer something quite +different. And as counters of imitation gold can be used only among +a group of people who agree to accept them as gold, or among those who +do not know the nature of gold, so universal historians and historians +of culture, not answering humanity's essential question, serve as +currency for some purposes of their own, only in universities and +among the mass of readers who have a taste for what they call "serious +reading." + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Having abandoned the conception of the ancients as to the divine +subjection of the will of a nation to some chosen man and the +subjection of that man's will to the Deity, history cannot without +contradictions take a single step till it has chosen one of two +things: either a return to the former belief in the direct +intervention of the Deity in human affairs or a definite explanation +of the meaning of the force producing historical events and termed +"power." + +A return to the first is impossible, the belief has been +destroyed; and so it is essential to explain what is meant by power. + +Napoleon ordered an army to be raised and go to war. We are so +accustomed to that idea and have become so used to it that the +question: why did six hundred thousand men go to fight when Napoleon +uttered certain words, seems to us senseless. He had the power and +so what he ordered was done. + +This reply is quite satisfactory if we believe that the power was +given him by God. But as soon as we do not admit that, it becomes +essential to determine what is this power of one man over others. + +It cannot be the direct physical power of a strong man over a weak +one--a domination based on the application or threat of physical +force, like the power of Hercules; nor can it be based on the effect +of moral force, as in their simplicity some historians think who say +that the leading figures in history are heroes, that is, men gifted +with a special strength of soul and mind called genius. This power +cannot be based on the predominance of moral strength, for, not to +mention heroes such as Napoleon about whose moral qualities opinions +differ widely, history shows us that neither a Louis XI nor a +Metternich, who ruled over millions of people, had any particular +moral qualities, but on the contrary were generally morally weaker +than any of the millions they ruled over. + +If the source of power lies neither in the physical nor in the moral +qualities of him who possesses it, it must evidently be looked for +elsewhere--in the relation to the people of the man who wields the +power. + +And that is how power is understood by the science of jurisprudence, +that exchange bank of history which offers to exchange history's +understanding of power for true gold. + +Power is the collective will of the people transferred, by expressed +or tacit consent, to their chosen rulers. + +In the domain of jurisprudence, which consists of discussions of how +a state and power might be arranged were it possible for all that to +be arranged, it is all very clear; but when applied to history that +definition of power needs explanation. + +The science of jurisprudence regards the state and power as the +ancients regarded fire--namely, as something existing absolutely. +But for history, the state and power are merely phenomena, just as for +modern physics fire is not an element but a phenomenon. + +From this fundamental difference between the view held by history +and that held by jurisprudence, it follows that jurisprudence can tell +minutely how in its opinion power should be constituted and what +power--existing immutably outside time--is, but to history's questions +about the meaning of the mutations of power in time it can answer +nothing. + +If power be the collective will of the people transferred to their +ruler, was Pugachev a representative of the will of the people? If +not, then why was Napoleon I? Why was Napoleon III a criminal when +he was taken prisoner at Boulogne, and why, later on, were those +criminals whom he arrested? + +Do palace revolutions--in which sometimes only two or three people +take part--transfer the will of the people to a new ruler? In +international relations, is the will of the people also transferred to +their conqueror? Was the will of the Confederation of the Rhine +transferred to Napoleon in 1806? Was the will of the Russian people +transferred to Napoleon in 1809, when our army in alliance with the +French went to fight the Austrians? + +To these questions three answers are possible: + +Either to assume (1) that the will of the people is always +unconditionally transferred to the ruler or rulers they have chosen, +and that therefore every emergence of a new power, every struggle +against the power once appointed, should be absolutely regarded as +an infringement of the real power; or (2) that the will of the +people is transferred to the rulers conditionally, under definite +and known conditions, and to show that all limitations, conflicts, and +even destructions of power result from a nonobservance by the rulers +of the conditions under which their power was entrusted to them; or +(3) that the will of the people is delegated to the rulers +conditionally, but that the conditions are unknown and indefinite, and +that the appearance of several authorities, their struggles and +their falls, result solely from the greater or lesser fulfillment by +the rulers of these unknown conditions on which the will of the people +is transferred from some people to others. + +And these are the three ways in which the historians do explain +the relation of the people to their rulers. + +Some historians--those biographical and specialist historians +already referred to--in their simplicity failing to understand the +question of the meaning of power, seem to consider that the collective +will of the people is unconditionally transferred to historical +persons, and therefore when describing some single state they assume +that particular power to be the one absolute and real power, and +that any other force opposing this is not a power but a violation of +power--mere violence. + +Their theory, suitable for primitive and peaceful periods of +history, has the inconvenience--in application to complex and stormy +periods in the life of nations during which various powers arise +simultaneously and struggle with one another--that a Legitimist +historian will prove that the National Convention, the Directory, +and Bonaparte were mere infringers of the true power, while a +Republican and a Bonapartist will prove: the one that the Convention +and the other that the Empire was the real power, and that all the +others were violations of power. Evidently the explanations +furnished by these historians being mutually contradictory can only +satisfy young children. + +Recognizing the falsity of this view of history, another set of +historians say that power rests on a conditional delegation of the +will of the people to their rulers, and that historical leaders have +power only conditionally on carrying out the program that the will +of the people has by tacit agreement prescribed to them. But what this +program consists in these historians do not say, or if they do they +continually contradict one another. + +Each historian, according to his view of what constitutes a nation's +progress, looks for these conditions in the greatness, wealth, +freedom, or enlightenment of citizens of France or some other country. +But not to mention the historians' contradictions as to the nature +of this program--or even admitting that some one general program of +these conditions exists--the facts of history almost always contradict +that theory. If the conditions under which power is entrusted +consist in the wealth, freedom, and enlightenment of the people, how +is it that Louis XIV and Ivan the Terrible end their reigns +tranquilly, while Louis XVI and Charles I are executed by their +people? To this question historians reply that Louis XIV's activity, +contrary to the program, reacted on Louis XVI. But why did it not +react on Louis XIV or on Louis XV--why should it react just on Louis +XVI? And what is the time limit for such reactions? To these questions +there are and can be no answers. Equally little does this view explain +why for several centuries the collective will is not withdrawn from +certain rulers and their heirs, and then suddenly during a period of +fifty years is transferred to the Convention, to the Directory, to +Napoleon, to Alexander, to Louis XVIII, to Napoleon again, to +Charles X, to Louis Philippe, to a Republican government, and to +Napoleon III. When explaining these rapid transfers of the people's +will from one individual to another, especially in view of +international relations, conquests, and alliances, the historians +are obliged to admit that some of these transfers are not normal +delegations of the people's will but are accidents dependent on +cunning, on mistakes, on craft, or on the weakness of a diplomatist, a +ruler, or a party leader. So that the greater part of the events of +history--civil wars, revolutions, and conquests--are presented by +these historians not as the results of free transferences of the +people's will, but as results of the ill-directed will of one or +more individuals, that is, once again, as usurpations of power. And so +these historians also see and admit historical events which are +exceptions to the theory. + +These historians resemble a botanist who, having noticed that some +plants grow from seeds producing two cotyledons, should insist that +all that grows does so by sprouting into two leaves, and that the +palm, the mushroom, and even the oak, which blossom into full growth +and no longer resemble two leaves, are deviations from the theory. + +Historians of the third class assume that the will of the people +is transferred to historic personages conditionally, but that the +conditions are unknown to us. They say that historical personages have +power only because they fulfill the will of the people which has +been delegated to them. + +But in that case, if the force that moves nations lies not in the +historic leaders but in the nations themselves, what significance have +those leaders? + +The leaders, these historians tell us, express the will of the +people: the activity of the leaders represents the activity of the +people. + +But in that case the question arises whether all the activity of the +leaders serves as an expression of the people's will or only some part +of it. If the whole activity of the leaders serves as the expression +of the people's will, as some historians suppose, then all the details +of the court scandals contained in the biographies of a Napoleon or +a Catherine serve to express the life of the nation, which is +evident nonsense; but if it is only some particular side of the +activity of an historical leader which serves to express the +people's life, as other so-called "philosophical" historians +believe, then to determine which side of the activity of a leader +expresses the nation's life, we have first of all to know in what +the nation's life consists. + +Met by this difficulty historians of that class devise some most +obscure, impalpable, and general abstraction which can cover all +conceivable occurrences, and declare this abstraction to be the aim of +humanity's movement. The most usual generalizations adopted by +almost all the historians are: freedom, equality, enlightenment, +progress, civilization, and culture. Postulating some generalization +as the goal of the movement of humanity, the historians study the +men of whom the greatest number of monuments have remained: kings, +ministers, generals, authors, reformers, popes, and journalists, to +the extent to which in their opinion these persons have promoted or +hindered that abstraction. But as it is in no way proved that the +aim of humanity does consist in freedom, equality, enlightenment, or +civilization, and as the connection of the people with the rulers +and enlighteners of humanity is only based on the arbitrary assumption +that the collective will of the people is always transferred to the +men whom we have noticed, it happens that the activity of the millions +who migrate, burn houses, abandon agriculture, and destroy one another +never is expressed in the account of the activity of some dozen people +who did not burn houses, practice agriculture, or slay their fellow +creatures. + +History proves this at every turn. Is the ferment of the peoples +of the west at the end of the eighteenth century and their drive +eastward explained by the activity of Louis XIV, XV, and XVI, their +mistresses and ministers, and by the lives of Napoleon, Rousseau, +Diderot, Beaumarchais, and others? + +Is the movement of the Russian people eastward to Kazan and +Siberia expressed by details of the morbid character of Ivan the +Terrible and by his correspondence with Kurbski? + +Is the movement of the peoples at the time of the Crusades explained +by the life and activity of the Godfreys and the Louis-es and their +ladies? For us that movement of the peoples from west to east, without +leaders, with a crowd of vagrants, and with Peter the Hermit, +remains incomprehensible. And yet more incomprehensible is the +cessation of that movement when a rational and sacred aim for the +Crusade--the deliverance of Jerusalem--had been clearly defined by +historic leaders. Popes, kings, and knights incited the peoples to +free the Holy Land; but the people did not go, for the unknown cause +which had previously impelled them to go no longer existed. The +history of the Godfreys and the Minnesingers can evidently not cover +the life of the peoples. And the history of the Godfreys and the +Minnesingers has remained the history of Godfreys and Minnesingers, +but the history of the life of the peoples and their impulses has +remained unknown. + +Still less does the history of authors and reformers explain to us +the life of the peoples. + +The history of culture explains to us the impulses and conditions of +life and thought of a writer or a reformer. We learn that Luther had a +hot temper and said such and such things; we learn that Rousseau was +suspicious and wrote such and such books; but we do not learn why +after the Reformation the peoples massacred one another, nor why +during the French Revolution they guillotined one another. + +If we unite both these kinds of history, as is done by the newest +historians, we shall have the history of monarchs and writers, but not +the history of the life of the peoples. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The life of the nations is not contained in the lives of a few +men, for the connection between those men and the nations has not been +found. The theory that this connection is based on the transference of +the collective will of a people to certain historical personages is an +hypothesis unconfirmed by the experience of history. + +The theory of the transference of the collective will of the +people to historic persons may perhaps explain much in the domain of +jurisprudence and be essential for its purposes, but in its +application to history, as soon as revolutions, conquests, or civil +wars occur--that is, as soon as history begins--that theory explains +nothing. + +The theory seems irrefutable just because the act of transference of +the people's will cannot be verified, for it never occurred. + +Whatever happens and whoever may stand at the head of affairs, the +theory can always say that such and such a person took the lead +because the collective will was transferred to him. + +The replies this theory gives to historical questions are like the +replies of a man who, watching the movements of a herd of cattle and +paying no attention to the varying quality of the pasturage in +different parts of the field, or to the driving of the herdsman, +should attribute the direction the herd takes to what animal happens +to be at its head. + +"The herd goes in that direction because the animal in front leads +it and the collective will of all the other animals is vested in +that leader." This is what historians of the first class say--those +who assume the unconditional transference of the people's will. + +"If the animals leading the herd change, this happens because the +collective will of all the animals is transferred from one leader to +another, according to whether the animal is or is not leading them +in the direction selected by the whole herd." Such is the reply +historians who assume that the collective will of the people is +delegated to rulers under conditions which they regard as known. (With +this method of observation it often happens that the observer, +influenced by the direction he himself prefers, regards those as +leaders who, owing to the people's change of direction, are no +longer in front, but on one side, or even in the rear.) + +"If the animals in front are continually changing and the +direction of the whole herd is constantly altered, this is because +in order to follow a given direction the animals transfer their will +to the animals that have attracted our attention, and to study the +movements of the herd we must watch the movements of all the prominent +animals moving on all sides of the herd." So say the third class of +historians who regard all historical persons, from monarchs to +journalists, as the expression of their age. + +The theory of the transference of the will of the people to historic +persons is merely a paraphrase--a restatement of the question in other +words. + +What causes historical events? Power. What is power? Power is the +collective will of the people transferred to one person. Under what +condition is the will of the people delegated to one person? On +condition that that person expresses the will of the whole people. +That is, power is power: in other words, power is a word the meaning +of which we do not understand. + + +If the realm of human knowledge were confined to abstract reasoning, +then having subjected to criticism the explanation of "power" that +juridical science gives us, humanity would conclude that power is +merely a word and has no real existence. But to understand phenomena +man has, besides abstract reasoning, experience by which he verifies +his reflections. And experience tells us that power is not merely a +word but an actually existing phenomenon. + +Not to speak of the fact that no description of the collective +activity of men can do without the conception of power, the +existence of power is proved both by history and by observing +contemporary events. + +Whenever an event occurs a man appears or men appear, by whose +will the event seems to have taken place. Napoleon III issues a decree +and the French go to Mexico. The King of Prussia and Bismarck issue +decrees and an army enters Bohemia. Napoleon I issues a decree and +an army enters Russia. Alexander I gives a command and the French +submit to the Bourbons. Experience shows us that whatever event occurs +it is always related to the will of one or of several men who have +decreed it. + +The historians, in accord with the old habit of acknowledging divine +intervention in human affairs, want to see the cause of events in +the expression of the will of someone endowed with power, but that +supposition is not confirmed either by reason or by experience. + +On the one side reflection shows that the expression of a man's +will--his words--are only part of the general activity expressed in an +event, as for instance in a war or a revolution, and so without +assuming an incomprehensible, supernatural force--a miracle--one +cannot admit that words can be the immediate cause of the movements of +millions of men. On the other hand, even if we admitted that words +could be the cause of events, history shows that the expression of the +will of historical personages does not in most cases produce any +effect, that is to say, their commands are often not executed, and +sometimes the very opposite of what they order occurs. + +Without admitting divine intervention in the affairs of humanity +we cannot regard "power" as the cause of events. + +Power, from the standpoint of experience, is merely the relation +that exists between the expression of someone's will and the execution +of that will by others. + +To explain the conditions of that relationship we must first +establish a conception of the expression of will, referring it to +man and not to the Deity. + +If the Deity issues a command, expresses His will, as ancient +history tells us, the expression of that will is independent of time +and is not caused by anything, for the Divinity is not controlled by +an event. But speaking of commands that are the expression of the will +of men acting in time and in relation to one another, to explain the +connection of commands with events we must restore: (1) the +condition of all that takes place: the continuity of movement in +time both of the events and of the person who commands, and (2) the +inevitability of the connection between the person commanding and +those who execute his command. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Only the expression of the will of the Deity, not dependent on time, +can relate to a whole series of events occurring over a period of +years or centuries, and only the Deity, independent of everything, can +by His sole will determine the direction of humanity's movement; but +man acts in time and himself takes part in what occurs. + +Reinstating the first condition omitted, that of time, we see that +no command can be executed without some preceding order having been +given rendering the execution of the last command possible. + +No command ever appears spontaneously, or itself covers a whole +series of occurrences; but each command follows from another, and +never refers to a whole series of events but always to one moment only +of an event. + +When, for instance, we say that Napoleon ordered armies to go to +war, we combine in one simultaneous expression a whole series of +consecutive commands dependent one on another. Napoleon could not have +commanded an invasion of Russia and never did so. Today he ordered +such and such papers to be written to Vienna, to Berlin, and to +Petersburg; tomorrow such and such decrees and orders to the army, the +fleet, the commissariat, and so on and so on--millions of commands, +which formed a whole series corresponding to a series of events +which brought the French armies into Russia. + +If throughout his reign Napoleon gave commands concerning an +invasion of England and expended on no other undertaking so much +time and effort, and yet during his whole reign never once attempted +to execute that design but undertook an expedition into Russia, with +which country he considered it desirable to be in alliance (a +conviction he repeatedly expressed)--this came about because his +commands did not correspond to the course of events in the first case, +but did so correspond in the latter. + +For an order to be certainly executed, it is necessary that a man +should order what can be executed. But to know what can and what +cannot be executed is impossible, not only in the case of Napoleon's +invasion of Russia in which millions participated, but even in the +simplest event, for in either case millions of obstacles may arise +to prevent its execution. Every order executed is always one of an +immense number unexecuted. All the impossible orders inconsistent with +the course of events remain unexecuted. Only the possible ones get +linked up with a consecutive series of commands corresponding to a +series of events, and are executed. + +Our false conception that an event is caused by a command which +precedes it is due to the fact that when the event has taken place and +out of thousands of others those few commands which were consistent +with that event have been executed, we forget about the others that +were not executed because they could not be. Apart from that, the +chief source of our error in this matter is due to the fact that in +the historical accounts a whole series of innumerable, diverse, and +petty events, such for instance as all those which led the French +armies to Russia, is generalized into one event in accord with the +result produced by that series of events, and corresponding with +this generalization the whole series of commands is also generalized +into a single expression of will. + +We say that Napoleon wished to invade Russia and invaded it. In +reality in all Napoleon's activity we never find anything resembling +an expression of that wish, but find a series of orders, or +expressions of his will, very variously and indefinitely directed. +Amid a long series of unexecuted orders of Napoleon's one series, +for the campaign of 1812, was carried out--not because those orders +differed in any way from the other, unexecuted orders but because they +coincided with the course of events that led the French army into +Russia; just as in stencil work this or that figure comes out not +because the color was laid on from this side or in that way, but +because it was laid on from all sides over the figure cut in the +stencil. + +So that examining the relation in time of the commands to the +events, we find that a command can never be the cause of the event, +but that a certain definite dependence exists between the two. + +To understand in what this dependence consists it is necessary to +reinstate another omitted condition of every command proceeding not +from the Deity but from a man, which is, that the man who gives the +command himself takes part in. + +This relation of the commander to those he commands is just what +is called power. This relation consists in the following: + +For common action people always unite in certain combinations, in +which regardless of the difference of the aims set for the common +action, the relation between those taking part in it is always the +same. + +Men uniting in these combinations always assume such relations +toward one another that the larger number take a more direct share, +and the smaller number a less direct share, in the collective action +for which they have combined. + +Of all the combinations in which men unite for collective action one +of the most striking and definite examples is an army. + +Every army is composed of lower grades of the service--the rank +and file--of whom there are always the greatest number; of the next +higher military rank--corporals and noncommissioned officers of whom +there are fewer, and of still-higher officers of whom there are +still fewer, and so on to the highest military command which is +concentrated in one person. + +A military organization may be quite correctly compared to a cone, +of which the base with the largest diameter consists of the rank and +file; the next higher and smaller section of the cone consists of +the next higher grades of the army, and so on to the apex, the point +of which will represent the commander in chief. + +The soldiers, of whom there are the most, form the lower section +of the cone and its base. The soldier himself does the stabbing, +hacking, burning, and pillaging, and always receives orders for +these actions from men above him; he himself never gives an order. The +noncommissioned officers (of whom there are fewer) perform the +action itself less frequently than the soldiers, but they already give +commands. An officer still less often acts directly himself, but +commands still more frequently. A general does nothing but command the +troops, indicates the objective, and hardly ever uses a weapon +himself. The commander in chief never takes direct part in the +action itself, but only gives general orders concerning the movement +of the mass of the troops. A similar relation of people to one another +is seen in every combination of men for common activity--in +agriculture, trade, and every administration. + +And so without particularly analyzing all the contiguous sections of +a cone and of the ranks of an army, or the ranks and positions in +any administrative or public business whatever from the lowest to +the highest, we see a law by which men, to take associated action, +combine in such relations that the more directly they participate in +performing the action the less they can command and the more +numerous they are, while the less their direct participation in the +action itself, the more they command and the fewer of them there +are; rising in this way from the lowest ranks to the man at the top, +who takes the least direct share in the action and directs his +activity chiefly to commanding. + +This relation of the men who command to those they command is what +constitutes the essence of the conception called power. + +Having restored the condition of time under which all events +occur, find that a command is executed only when it is related to a +corresponding series of events. Restoring the essential condition of +relation between those who command and those who execute, we find that +by the very nature of the case those who command take the smallest +part in the action itself and that their activity is exclusively +directed to commanding. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +When an event is taking place people express their opinions and +wishes about it, and as the event results from the collective activity +of many people, some one of the opinions or wishes expressed is sure +to be fulfilled if but approximately. When one of the opinions +expressed is fulfilled, that opinion gets connected with the event +as a command preceding it. + +Men are hauling a log. Each of them expresses his opinion as to +how and where to haul it. They haul the log away, and it happens +that this is done as one of them said. He ordered it. There we have +command and power in their primary form. The man who worked most +with his hands could not think so much about what he was doing, or +reflect on or command what would result from the common activity; +while the man who commanded more would evidently work less with his +hands on account of his greater verbal activity. + +When some larger concourse of men direct their activity to a +common aim there is a yet sharper division of those who, because their +activity is given to directing and commanding, take less less part +in the direct work. + +When a man works alone he always has a certain set of reflections +which as it seems to him directed his past activity, justify his +present activity, and guide him in planning his future actions. Just +the same is done by a concourse of people, allowing those who do not +take a direct part in the activity to devise considerations, +justifications, and surmises concerning their collective activity. + +For reasons known or unknown to us the French began to drown and +kill one another. And corresponding to the event its justification +appears in people's belief that this was necessary for the welfare +of France, for liberty, and for equality. People ceased to kill one +another, and this event was accompanied by its justification in the +necessity for a centralization of power, resistance to Europe, and +so on. Men went from the west to the east killing their fellow men, +and the event was accompanied by phrases about the glory of France, +the baseness of England, and so on. History shows us that these +justifications of the events have no common sense and are all +contradictory, as in the case of killing a man as the result of +recognizing his rights, and the killing of millions in Russia for +the humiliation of England. But these justifications have a very +necessary significance in their own day. + +These justifications release those who produce the events from moral +responsibility. These temporary aims are like the broom fixed in front +of a locomotive to clear the snow from the rails in front: they +clear men's moral responsibilities from their path. + +Without such justification there would be no reply to the simplest +question that presents itself when examining each historical event. +How is it that millions of men commit collective crimes--make war, +commit murder, and so on? + +With the present complex forms of political and social life in +Europe can any event that is not prescribed, decreed, or ordered by +monarchs, ministers, parliaments, or newspapers be imagined? Is +there any collective action which cannot find its justification in +political unity, in patriotism, in the balance of power, or in +civilization? So that every event that occurs inevitably coincides +with some expressed wish and, receiving a justification, presents +itself as the result of the will of one man or of several men. + +In whatever direction a ship moves, the flow of the waves it cuts +will always be noticeable ahead of it. To those on board the ship +the movement of those waves will be the only perceptible motion. + +Only by watching closely moment by moment the movement of that +flow and comparing it with the movement of the ship do we convince +ourselves that every bit of it is occasioned by the forward movement +of the ship, and that we were led into error by the fact that we +ourselves were imperceptibly moving. + +We see the same if we watch moment by moment the movement of +historical characters (that is, re-establish the inevitable +condition of all that occurs--the continuity of movement in time) +and do not lose sight of the essential connection of historical +persons with the masses. + +When the ship moves in one direction there is one and the same +wave ahead of it, when it turns frequently the wave ahead of it also +turns frequently. But wherever it may turn there always will be the +wave anticipating its movement. + +Whatever happens it always appears that just that event was foreseen +and decreed. Wherever the ship may go, the rush of water which neither +directs nor increases its movement foams ahead of it, and at a +distance seems to us not merely to move of itself but to govern the +ship's movement also. + + +Examining only those expressions of the will of historical persons +which, as commands, were related to events, historians have assumed +that the events depended on those commands. But examining the events +themselves and the connection in which the historical persons stood to +the people, we have found that they and their orders were dependent on +events. The incontestable proof of this deduction is that, however +many commands were issued, the event does not take place unless +there are other causes for it, but as soon as an event occurs--be it +what it may--then out of all the continually expressed wishes of +different people some will always be found which by their meaning +and their time of utterance are related as commands to the events. + +Arriving at this conclusion we can reply directly and positively +to these two essential questions of history: + +(1) What is power? + +(2) What force produces the movement of the nations? + +(1) Power is the relation of a given person to other individuals, in +which the more this person expresses opinions, predictions, and +justifications of the collective action that is performed, the less is +his participation in that action. + +(2) The movement of nations is caused not by power, nor by +intellectual activity, nor even by a combination of the two as +historians have supposed, but by the activity of all the people who +participate in the events, and who always combine in such a way that +those taking the largest direct share in the event take on +themselves the least responsibility and vice versa. + +Morally the wielder of power appears to cause the event; +physically it is those who submit to the power. But as the moral +activity is inconceivable without the physical, the cause of the event +is neither in the one nor in the other but in the union of the two. + +Or in other words, the conception of a cause is inapplicable to +the phenomena we are examining. + +In the last analysis we reach the circle of infinity--that final +limit to which in every domain of thought man's reason arrives if it +is not playing with the subject. Electricity produces heat, heat +produces electricity. Atoms attract each other and atoms repel one +another. + +Speaking of the interaction of heat and electricity and of atoms, we +cannot say why this occurs, and we say that it is so because it is +inconceivable otherwise, because it must be so and that it is a law. +The same applies to historical events. Why war and revolution occur we +do not know. We only know that to produce the one or the other action, +people combine in a certain formation in which they all take part, and +we say that this is so because it is unthinkable otherwise, or in +other words that it is a law. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +If history dealt only with external phenomena, the establishment +of this simple and obvious law would suffice and we should have +finished our argument. But the law of history relates to man. A +particle of matter cannot tell us that it does not feel the law of +attraction or repulsion and that that law is untrue, but man, who is +the subject of history, says plainly: I am free and am therefore not +subject to the law. + +The presence of the problem of man's free will, though +unexpressed, is felt at every step of history. + +All seriously thinking historians have involuntarily encountered +this question. All the contradictions and obscurities of history and +the false path historical science has followed are due solely to the +lack of a solution of that question. + +If the will of every man were free, that is, if each man could act +as he pleased, all history would be a series of disconnected +incidents. + +If in a thousand years even one man in a million could act freely, +that is, as he chose, it is evident that one single free act of that +man's in violation of the laws governing human action would destroy +the possibility of the existence of any laws for the whole of +humanity. + +If there be a single law governing the actions of men, free will +cannot exist, for then man's will is subject to that law. + +In this contradiction lies the problem of free will, which from most +ancient times has occupied the best human minds and from most +ancient times has been presented in its whole tremendous significance. + +The problem is that regarding man as a subject of observation from +whatever point of view--theological, historical, ethical, or +philosophic--we find a general law of necessity to which he (like +all that exists) is subject. But regarding him from within ourselves +as what we are conscious of, we feel ourselves to be free. + +This consciousness is a source of self-cognition quite apart from +and independent of reason. Through his reason man observes himself, +but only through consciousness does he know himself. + +Apart from consciousness of self no observation or application of +reason is conceivable. + +To understand, observe, and draw conclusions, man must first of +all be conscious of himself as living. A man is only conscious of +himself as a living being by the fact that he wills, that is, is +conscious of his volition. But his will--which forms the essence of +his life--man recognizes (and can but recognize) as free. + +If, observing himself, man sees that his will is always directed +by one and the same law (whether he observes the necessity of taking +food, using his brain, or anything else) he cannot recognize this +never-varying direction of his will otherwise than as a limitation +of it. Were it not free it could not be limited. A man's will seems to +him to be limited just because he is not conscious of it except as +free. + +You say: I am not and am not free. But I have lifted my hand and let +it fall. Everyone understands that this illogical reply is an +irrefutable demonstration of freedom. + +That reply is the expression of a consciousness that is not +subject to reason. + +If the consciousness of freedom were not a separate and +independent source of self-consciousness it would be subject to +reasoning and to experience, but in fact such subjection does not +exist and is inconceivable. + +A series of experiments and arguments proves to every man that he, +as an object of observation, is subject to certain laws, and man +submits to them and never resists the laws of gravity or +impermeability once he has become acquainted with them. But the same +series of experiments and arguments proves to him that the complete +freedom of which he is conscious in himself is impossible, and that +his every action depends on his organization, his character, and the +motives acting upon him; yet man never submits to the deductions of +these experiments and arguments. Having learned from experiment and +argument that a stone falls downwards, a man indubitably believes this +and always expects the law that he has learned to be fulfilled. + +But learning just as certainly that his will is subject to laws, +he does not and cannot believe this. + +However often experiment and reasoning may show a man that under the +same conditions and with the same character he will do the same +thing as before, yet when under the same conditions and with the +same character he approaches for the thousandth time the action that +always ends in the same way, he feels as certainly convinced as before +the experiment that he can act as he pleases. Every man, savage or +sage, however incontestably reason and experiment may prove to him +that it is impossible to imagine two different courses of action in +precisely the same conditions, feels that without this irrational +conception (which constitutes the essence of freedom) he cannot +imagine life. He feels that however impossible it may be, it is so, +for without this conception of freedom not only would he be unable +to understand life, but he would be unable to live for a single +moment. + +He could not live, because all man's efforts, all his impulses to +life, are only efforts to increase freedom. Wealth and poverty, fame +and obscurity, power and subordination, strength and weakness, +health and disease, culture and ignorance, work and leisure, repletion +and hunger, virtue and vice, are only greater or lesser degrees of +freedom. + +A man having no freedom cannot be conceived of except as deprived of +life. + +If the conception of freedom appears to reason to be a senseless +contradiction like the possibility of performing two actions at one +and the same instant of time, or of an effect without a cause, that +only proves that consciousness is not subject to reason. + +This unshakable, irrefutable consciousness of freedom, +uncontrolled by experiment or argument, recognized by all thinkers and +felt by everyone without exception, this consciousness without which +no conception of man is possible constitutes the other side of the +question. + +Man is the creation of an all-powerful, all-good, and all-seeing +God. What is sin, the conception of which arises from the +consciousness of man's freedom? That is a question for theology. + +The actions of men are subject to general immutable laws expressed +in statistics. What is man's responsibility to society, the conception +of which results from the conception of freedom? That is a question +for jurisprudence. + +Man's actions proceed from his innate character and the motives +acting upon him. What is conscience and the perception of right and +wrong in actions that follows from the consciousness of freedom? +That is a question for ethics. + +Man in connection with the general life of humanity appears +subject to laws which determine that life. But the same man apart from +that connection appears to free. How should the past life of nations +and of humanity be regarded--as the result of the free, or as the +result of the constrained, activity of man? That is a question for +history. + +Only in our self-confident day of the popularization of knowledge- +thanks to that most powerful engine of ignorance, the diffusion of +printed matter--has the question of the freedom of will been put on +a level on which the question itself cannot exist. In our time the +majority of so-called advanced people--that is, the crowd of +ignoramuses--have taken the work of the naturalists who deal with +one side of the question for a solution of the whole problem. + +They say and write and print that the soul and freedom do not exist, +for the life of man is expressed by muscular movements and muscular +movements are conditioned by the activity of the nerves; the soul +and free will do not exist because at an unknown period of time we +sprang from the apes. They say this, not at all suspecting that +thousands of years ago that same law of necessity which with such +ardor they are now trying to prove by physiology and comparative +zoology was not merely acknowledged by all the religions and all the +thinkers, but has never been denied. They do not see that the role +of the natural sciences in this matter is merely to serve as an +instrument for the illumination of one side of it. For the fact +that, from the point of view of observation, reason and the will are +merely secretions of the brain, and that man following the general law +may have developed from lower animals at some unknown period of +time, only explains from a fresh side the truth admitted thousands +of years ago by all the religious and philosophic theories--that +from the point of view of reason man is subject to the law of +necessity; but it does not advance by a hair's breadth the solution of +the question, which has another, opposite, side, based on the +consciousness of freedom. + +If men descended from the apes at an unknown period of time, that is +as comprehensible as that they were made from a handful of earth at +a certain period of time (in the first case the unknown quantity is +the time, in the second case it is the origin); and the question of +how man's consciousness of freedom is to be reconciled with the law of +necessity to which he is subject cannot be solved by comparative +physiology and zoology, for in a frog, a rabbit, or an ape, we can +observe only the muscular nervous activity, but in man we observe +consciousness as well as the muscular and nervous activity. + +The naturalists and their followers, thinking they can solve this +question, are like plasterers set to plaster one side of the walls +of a church who, availing themselves of the absence of the chief +superintendent of the work, should in an access of zeal plaster over +the windows, icons, woodwork, and still unbuttressed walls, and should +be delighted that from their point of view as plasterers, everything +is now so smooth and regular. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +For the solution of the question of free will or inevitability, +history has this advantage over other branches of knowledge in which +the question is dealt with, that for history this question does not +refer to the essence of man's free will but its manifestation in the +past and under certain conditions. + +In regard to this question, history stands to the other sciences +as experimental science stands to abstract science. + +The subject for history is not man's will itself but our +presentation of it. + +And so for history, the insoluble mystery presented by the +incompatibility of free will and inevitability does not exist as it +does for theology, ethics, and philosophy. History surveys a +presentation of man's life in which the union of these two +contradictions has already taken place. + +In actual life each historic event, each human action, is very +clearly and definitely understood without any sense of +contradiction, although each event presents itself as partly free +and partly compulsory. + +To solve the question of how freedom and necessity are combined +and what constitutes the essence of these two conceptions, the +philosophy of history can and should follow a path contrary to that +taken by other sciences. Instead of first defining the conceptions +of freedom and inevitability in themselves, and then ranging the +phenomena of life under those definitions, history should deduce a +definition of the conception of freedom and inevitability themselves +from the immense quantity of phenomena of which it is cognizant and +that always appear dependent on these two elements. + +Whatever presentation of the activity of many men or of an +individual we may consider, we always regard it as the result partly +of man's free will and partly of the law of inevitability. + +Whether we speak of the migration of the peoples and the +incursions of the barbarians, or of the decrees of Napoleon III, or of +someone's action an hour ago in choosing one direction out of +several for his walk, we are unconscious of any contradiction. The +degree of freedom and inevitability governing the actions of these +people is clearly defined for us. + +Our conception of the degree of freedom often varies according to +differences in the point of view from which we regard the event, but +every human action appears to us as a certain combination of freedom +and inevitability. In every action we examine we see a certain measure +of freedom and a certain measure of inevitability. And always the more +freedom we see in any action the less inevitability do we perceive, +and the more inevitability the less freedom. + +The proportion of freedom to inevitability decreases and increases +according to the point of view from which the action is regarded, +but their relation is always one of inverse proportion. + +A sinking man who clutches at another and drowns him; or a hungry +mother exhausted by feeding her baby, who steals some food; or a man +trained to discipline who on duty at the word of command kills a +defenseless man--seem less guilty, that is, less free and more subject +to the law of necessity, to one who knows the circumstances in which +these people were placed, and more free to one who does not know +that the man was himself drowning, that the mother was hungry, that +the soldier was in the ranks, and so on. Similarly a man who committed +a murder twenty years ago and has since lived peaceably and harmlessly +in society seems less guilty and his action more due to the law of +inevitability, to someone who considers his action after twenty +years have elapsed than to one who examined it the day after it was +committed. And in the same way every action of an insane, intoxicated, +or highly excited man appears less free and more inevitable to one who +knows the mental condition of him who committed the action, and +seems more free and less inevitable to one who does not know it. In +all these cases the conception of freedom is increased or diminished +and the conception of compulsion is correspondingly decreased or +increased, according to the point of view from which the action is +regarded. So that the greater the conception of necessity the +smaller the conception of freedom and vice versa. + +Religion, the common sense of mankind, the science of jurisprudence, +and history itself understand alike this relation between necessity +and freedom. + +All cases without exception in which our conception of freedom and +necessity is increased and diminished depend on three considerations: + +(1) The relation to the external world of the man who commits the +deeds. + +(2) His relation to time. + +(3) His relation to the causes leading to the action. + +The first consideration is the clearness of our perception of the +man's relation to the external world and the greater or lesser +clearness of our understanding of the definite position occupied by +the man in relation to everything coexisting with him. This is what +makes it evident that a drowning man is less free and more subject +to necessity than one standing on dry ground, and that makes the +actions of a man closely connected with others in a thickly +populated district, or of one bound by family, official, or business +duties, seem certainly less free and more subject to necessity than +those of a man living in solitude and seclusion. + +If we consider a man alone, apart from his relation to everything +around him, each action of his seems to us free. But if we see his +relation to anything around him, if we see his connection with +anything whatever--with a man who speaks to him, a book he reads, +the work on which he is engaged, even with the air he breathes or +the light that falls on the things about him--we see that each of +these circumstances has an influence on him and controls at least some +side of his activity. And the more we perceive of these influences the +more our conception of his freedom diminishes and the more our +conception of the necessity that weighs on him increases. + +The second consideration is the more or less evident time relation +of the man to the world and the clearness of our perception of the +place the man's action occupies in time. That is the ground which +makes the fall of the first man, resulting in the production of the +human race, appear evidently less free than a man's entry into +marriage today. It is the reason why the life and activity of people +who lived centuries ago and are connected with me in time cannot +seem to me as free as the life of a contemporary, the consequences +of which are still unknown to me. + +The degree of our conception of freedom or inevitability depends +in this respect on the greater or lesser lapse of time between the +performance of the action and our judgment of it. + +If I examine an act I performed a moment ago in approximately the +same circumstances as those I am in now, my action appears to me +undoubtedly free. But if I examine an act performed a month ago, +then being in different circumstances, I cannot help recognizing +that if that act had not been committed much that resulted from it- +good, agreeable, and even essential--would not have taken place. If +I reflect on an action still more remote, ten years ago or more, +then the consequences of my action are still plainer to me and I +find it hard to imagine what would have happened had that action not +been performed. The farther I go back in memory, or what is the same +thing the farther I go forward in my judgment, the more doubtful +becomes my belief in the freedom of my action. + +In history we find a very similar progress of conviction +concerning the part played by free will in the general affairs of +humanity. A contemporary event seems to us to be indubitably the doing +of all the known participants, but with a more remote event we already +see its inevitable results which prevent our considering anything else +possible. And the farther we go back in examining events the less +arbitrary do they appear. + +The Austro-Prussian war appears to us undoubtedly the result of +the crafty conduct of Bismarck, and so on. The Napoleonic wars still +seem to us, though already questionably, to be the outcome of their +heroes' will. But in the Crusades we already see an event occupying +its definite place in history and without which we cannot imagine +the modern history of Europe, though to the chroniclers of the +Crusades that event appeared as merely due to the will of certain +people. In regard to the migration of the peoples it does not enter +anyone's head today to suppose that the renovation of the European +world depended on Attila's caprice. The farther back in history the +object of our observation lies, the more doubtful does the free will +of those concerned in the event become and the more manifest the law +of inevitability. + +The third consideration is the degree to which we apprehend that +endless chain of causation inevitably demanded by reason, in which +each phenomenon comprehended, and therefore man's every action, must +have its definite place as a result of what has gone before and as a +cause of what will follow. + +The better we are acquainted with the physiological, +psychological, and historical laws deduced by observation and by which +man is controlled, and the more correctly we perceive the +physiological, psychological, and historical causes of the action, and +the simpler the action we are observing and the less complex the +character and mind of the man in question, the more subject to +inevitability and the less free do our actions and those of others +appear. + +When we do not at all understand the cause of an action, whether a +crime, a good action, or even one that is simply nonmoral, we +ascribe a greater amount of freedom to it. In the case of a crime we +most urgently demand the punishment for such an act; in the case of +a virtuous act we rate its merit most highly. In an indifferent case +we recognize in it more individuality, originality, and +independence. But if even one of the innumerable causes of the act +is known to us we recognize a certain element of necessity and are +less insistent on punishment for the crime, or the acknowledgment of +the merit of the virtuous act, or the freedom of the apparently +original action. That a criminal was reared among male factors +mitigates his fault in our eyes. The self-sacrifice of a father or +mother, or self-sacrifice with the possibility of a reward, is more +comprehensible than gratuitous self-sacrifice, and therefore seems +less deserving of sympathy and less the result of free will. The +founder of a sect or party, or an inventor, impresses us less when +we know how or by what the way was prepared for his activity. If we +have a large range of examples, if our observation is constantly +directed to seeking the correlation of cause and effect in people's +actions, their actions appear to us more under compulsion and less +free the more correctly we connect the effects with the causes. If +we examined simple actions and had a vast number of such actions under +observation, our conception of their inevitability would be still +greater. The dishonest conduct of the son of a dishonest father, the +misconduct of a woman who had fallen into bad company, a drunkard's +relapse into drunkenness, and so on are actions that seem to us less +free the better we understand their cause. If the man whose actions we +are considering is on a very low stage of mental development, like a +child, a madman, or a simpleton--then, knowing the causes of the act +and the simplicity of the character and intelligence in question, we +see so large an element of necessity and so little free will that as +soon as we know the cause prompting the action we can foretell the +result. + +On these three considerations alone is based the conception of +irresponsibility for crimes and the extenuating circumstances admitted +by all legislative codes. The responsibility appears greater or less +according to our greater or lesser knowledge of the circumstances in +which the man was placed whose action is being judged, and according +to the greater or lesser interval of time between the commission of +the action and its investigation, and according to the greater or +lesser understanding of the causes that led to the action. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Thus our conception of free will and inevitability gradually +diminishes or increases according to the greater or lesser +connection with the external world, the greater or lesser remoteness +of time, and the greater or lesser dependence on the causes in +relation to which we contemplate a man's life. + +So that if we examine the case of a man whose connection with the +external world is well known, where the time between the action and +its examination is great, and where the causes of the action are +most accessible, we get the conception of a maximum of inevitability +and a minimum of free will. If we examine a man little dependent on +external conditions, whose action was performed very recently, and the +causes of whose action are beyond our ken, we get the conception of +a minimum of inevitability and a maximum of freedom. + +In neither case--however we may change our point of view, however +plain we may make to ourselves the connection between the man and +the external world, however inaccessible it may be to us, however long +or short the period of time, however intelligible or +incomprehensible the causes of the action may be--can we ever conceive +either complete freedom or complete necessity. + +(1) To whatever degree we may imagine a man to be exempt from the +influence of the external world, we never get a conception of +freedom in space. Every human action is inevitably conditioned by what +surrounds him and by his own body. I lift my arm and let it fall. My +action seems to me free; but asking myself whether I could raise my +arm in every direction, I see that I raised it in the direction in +which there was least obstruction to that action either from things +around me or from the construction of my own body. I chose one out +of all the possible directions because in it there were fewest +obstacles. For my action to be free it was necessary that it should +encounter no obstacles. To conceive of a man being free we must +imagine him outside space, which is evidently impossible. + +(2) However much we approximate the time of judgment to the time +of the deed, we never get a conception of freedom in time. For if I +examine an action committed a second ago I must still recognize it +as not being free, for it is irrevocably linked to the moment at which +it was committed. Can I lift my arm? I lift it, but ask myself: +could I have abstained from lifting my arm at the moment that has +already passed? To convince myself of this I do not lift it the next +moment. But I am not now abstaining from doing so at the first +moment when I asked the question. Time has gone by which I could not +detain, the arm I then lifted is no longer the same as the arm I now +refrain from lifting, nor is the air in which I lifted it the same +that now surrounds me. The moment in which the first movement was made +is irrevocable, and at that moment I could make only one movement, and +whatever movement I made would be the only one. That I did not lift my +arm a moment later does not prove that I could have abstained from +lifting it then. And since I could make only one movement at that +single moment of time, it could not have been any other. To imagine it +as free, it is necessary to imagine it in the present, on the boundary +between the past and the future--that is, outside time, which is +impossible. + +(3) However much the difficulty of understanding the causes may be +increased, we never reach a conception of complete freedom, that is, +an absence of cause. However inaccessible to us may be the cause of +the expression of will in any action, our own or another's, the +first demand of reason is the assumption of and search for a cause, +for without a cause no phenomenon is conceivable. I raise my arm to +perform an action independently of any cause, but my wish to perform +an action without a cause is the cause of my action. + +But even if--imagining a man quite exempt from all influences, +examining only his momentary action in the present, unevoked by any +cause--we were to admit so infinitely small a remainder of +inevitability as equaled zero, we should even then not have arrived at +the conception of complete freedom in man, for a being uninfluenced by +the external world, standing outside of time and independent of cause, +is no longer a man. + +In the same way we can never imagine the action of a man quite +devoid of freedom and entirely subject to the law of inevitability. + +(1) However we may increase our knowledge of the conditions of space +in which man is situated, that knowledge can never be complete, for +the number of those conditions is as infinite as the infinity of +space. And therefore so long as not all the conditions influencing men +are defined, there is no complete inevitability but a certain +measure of freedom remains. + +(2) However we may prolong the period of time between the action +we are examining and the judgment upon it, that period will be finite, +while time is infinite, and so in this respect too there can never +be absolute inevitability. + +(3) However accessible may be the chain of causation of any +action, we shall never know the whole chain since it is endless, and +so again we never reach absolute inevitability. + +But besides this, even if, admitting the remaining minimum of +freedom to equal zero, we assumed in some given case--as for +instance in that of a dying man, an unborn babe, or an idiot--complete +absence of freedom, by so doing we should destroy the very +conception of man in the case we are examining, for as soon as there +is no freedom there is also no man. And so the conception of the +action of a man subject solely to the law of inevitability without any +element of freedom is just as impossible as the conception of a +man's completely free action. + +And so to imagine the action of a man entirely subject to the law of +inevitability without any freedom, we must assume the knowledge of +an infinite number of space relations, an infinitely long period of +time, and an infinite series of causes. + +To imagine a man perfectly free and not subject to the law of +inevitability, we must imagine him all alone, beyond space, beyond +time, and free from dependence on cause. + +In the first case, if inevitability were possible without freedom we +should have reached a definition of inevitability by the laws of +inevitability itself, that is, a mere form without content. + +In the second case, if freedom were possible without inevitability +we should have arrived at unconditioned freedom beyond space, time, +and cause, which by the fact of its being unconditioned and +unlimited would be nothing, or mere content without form. + +We should in fact have reached those two fundamentals of which man's +whole outlook on the universe is constructed--the incomprehensible +essence of life, and the laws defining that essence. + +Reason says: (1) space with all the forms of matter that give it +visibility is infinite, and cannot be imagined otherwise. (2) Time +is infinite motion without a moment of rest and is unthinkable +otherwise. (3) The connection between cause and effect has no +beginning and can have no end. + +Consciousness says: (1) I alone am, and all that exists is but me, +consequently I include space. (2) I measure flowing time by the +fixed moment of the present in which alone I am conscious of myself as +living, consequently I am outside time. (3) I am beyond cause, for I +feel myself to be the cause of every manifestation of my life. + +Reason gives expression to the laws of inevitability. +Consciousness gives expression to the essence of freedom. + +Freedom not limited by anything is the essence of life, in man's +consciousness. Inevitability without content is man's reason in its +three forms. + +Freedom is the thing examined. Inevitability is what examines. +Freedom is the content. Inevitability is the form. + +Only by separating the two sources of cognition, related to one +another as form to content, do we get the mutually exclusive and +separately incomprehensible conceptions of freedom and inevitability. + +Only by uniting them do we get a clear conception of man's life. + +Apart from these two concepts which in their union mutually define +one another as form and content, no conception of life is possible. + +All that we know of the life of man is merely a certain relation +of free will to inevitability, that is, of consciousness to the laws +of reason. + +All that we know of the external world of nature is only a certain +relation of the forces of nature to inevitability, or of the essence +of life to the laws of reason. + +The great natural forces lie outside us and we are not conscious +of them; we call those forces gravitation, inertia, electricity, +animal force, and so on, but we are conscious of the force of life +in man and we call that freedom. + +But just as the force of gravitation, incomprehensible in itself but +felt by every man, is understood by us only to the extent to which +we know the laws of inevitability to which it is subject (from the +first knowledge that all bodies have weight, up to Newton's law), so +too the force of free will, incomprehensible in itself but of which +everyone is conscious, is intelligible to us only in as far as we know +the laws of inevitability to which it is subject (from the fact that +every man dies, up to the knowledge of the most complex economic and +historic laws). + +All knowledge is merely a bringing of this essence of life under the +laws of reason. + +Man's free will differs from every other force in that man is +directly conscious of it, but in the eyes of reason it in no way +differs from any other force. The forces of gravitation, +electricity, or chemical affinity are only distinguished from one +another in that they are differently defined by reason. Just so the +force of man's free will is distinguished by reason from the other +forces of nature only by the definition reason gives it. Freedom, +apart from necessity, that is, apart from the laws of reason that +define it, differs in no way from gravitation, or heat, or the force +that makes things grow; for reason, it is only a momentary undefinable +sensation of life. + +And as the undefinable essence of the force moving the heavenly +bodies, the undefinable essence of the forces of heat and electricity, +or of chemical affinity, or of the vital force, forms the content of +astronomy, physics, chemistry, botany, zoology, and so on, just in the +same way does the force of free will form the content of history. +But just as the subject of every science is the manifestation of +this unknown essence of life while that essence itself can only be the +subject of metaphysics, even the manifestation of the force of free +will in human beings in space, in time, and in dependence on cause +forms the subject of history, while free will itself is the subject of +metaphysics. + +In the experimental sciences what we know we call the laws of +inevitability, what is unknown to us we call vital force. Vital +force is only an expression for the unknown remainder over and above +what we know of the essence of life. + +So also in history what is known to us we call laws of +inevitability, what is unknown we call free will. Free will is for +history only an expression for the unknown remainder of what we know +about the laws of human life. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +History examines the manifestations of man's free will in connection +with the external world in time and in dependence on cause, that is, +it defines this freedom by the laws of reason, and so history is a +science only in so far as this free will is defined by those laws. + +The recognition of man's free will as something capable of +influencing historical events, that is, as not subject to laws, is the +same for history as the recognition of a free force moving the +heavenly bodies would be for astronomy. + +That assumption would destroy the possibility of the existence of +laws, that is, of any science whatever. If there is even a single body +moving freely, then the laws of Kepler and Newton are negatived and no +conception of the movement of the heavenly bodies any longer exists. +If any single action is due to free will, then not a single historical +law can exist, nor any conception of historical events. + +For history, lines exist of the movement of human wills, one end +of which is hidden in the unknown but at the other end of which a +consciousness of man's will in the present moves in space, time, and +dependence on cause. + +The more this field of motion spreads out before our eyes, the +more evident are the laws of that movement. To discover and define +those laws is the problem of history. + +From the standpoint from which the science of history now regards +its subject on the path it now follows, seeking the causes of events +in man's freewill, a scientific enunciation of those laws is +impossible, for however man's free will may be restricted, as soon +as we recognize it as a force not subject to law, the existence of law +becomes impossible. + +Only by reducing this element of free will to the infinitesimal, +that is, by regarding it as an infinitely small quantity, can we +convince ourselves of the absolute inaccessibility of the causes, +and then instead of seeking causes, history will take the discovery of +laws as its problem. + +The search for these laws has long been begun and the new methods of +thought which history must adopt are being worked out simultaneously +with the self-destruction toward which--ever dissecting and dissecting +the causes of phenomena--the old method of history is moving. + +All human sciences have traveled along that path. Arriving at +infinitesimals, mathematics, the most exact of sciences, abandons +the process of analysis and enters on the new process of the +integration of unknown, infinitely small, quantities. Abandoning the +conception of cause, mathematics seeks law, that is, the property +common to all unknown, infinitely small, elements. + +In another form but along the same path of reflection the other +sciences have proceeded. When Newton enunciated the law of gravity +he did not say that the sun or the earth had a property of attraction; +he said that all bodies from the largest to the smallest have the +property of attracting one another, that is, leaving aside the +question of the cause of the movement of the bodies, he expressed +the property common to all bodies from the infinitely large to the +infinitely small. The same is done by the natural sciences: leaving +aside the question of cause, they seek for laws. History stands on the +same path. And if history has for its object the study of the movement +of the nations and of humanity and not the narration of episodes in +the lives of individuals, it too, setting aside the conception of +cause, should seek the laws common to all the inseparably +interconnected infinitesimal elements of free will. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +From the time the law of Copernicus was discovered and proved, the +mere recognition of the fact that it was not the sun but the earth +that moves sufficed to destroy the whole cosmography of the +ancients. By disproving that law it might have been possible to retain +the old conception of the movements of the bodies, but without +disproving it, it would seem impossible to continue studying the +Ptolemaic worlds. But even after the discovery of the law of +Copernicus the Ptolemaic worlds were still studied for a long time. + +From the time the first person said and proved that the number of +births or of crimes is subject to mathematical laws, and that this +or that mode of government is determined by certain geographical and +economic conditions, and that certain relations of population to +soil produce migrations of peoples, the foundations on which history +had been built were destroyed in their essence. + +By refuting these new laws the former view of history might have +been retained; but without refuting them it would seem impossible to +continue studying historic events as the results of man's free will. +For if a certain mode of government was established or certain +migrations of peoples took place in consequence of such and such +geographic, ethnographic, or economic conditions, then the free will +of those individuals who appear to us to have established that mode of +government or occasioned the migrations can no longer be regarded as +the cause. + +And yet the former history continues to be studied side by side with +the laws of statistics, geography, political economy, comparative +philology, and geology, which directly contradict its assumptions. + +The struggle between the old views and the new was long and +stubbornly fought out in physical philosophy. Theology stood on +guard for the old views and accused the new of violating revelation. +But when truth conquered, theology established itself just as firmly +on the new foundation. + +Just as prolonged and stubborn is the struggle now proceeding +between the old and the new conception of history, and theology in the +same way stands on guard for the old view, and accuses the new view of +subverting revelation. + +In the one case as in the other, on both sides the struggle provokes +passion and stifles truth. On the one hand there is fear and regret +for the loss of the whole edifice constructed through the ages, on the +other is the passion for destruction. + +To the men who fought against the rising truths of physical +philosophy, it seemed that if they admitted that truth it would +destroy faith in God, in the creation of the firmament, and in the +miracle of Joshua the son of Nun. To the defenders of the laws of +Copernicus and Newton, to Voltaire for example, it seemed that the +laws of astronomy destroyed religion, and he utilized the law of +gravitation as a weapon against religion. + +Just so it now seems as if we have only to admit the law of +inevitability, to destroy the conception of the soul, of good and +evil, and all the institutions of state and church that have been +built up on those conceptions. + +So too, like Voltaire in his time, uninvited defenders of the law of +inevitability today use that law as a weapon against religion, +though the law of inevitability in history, like the law of Copernicus +in astronomy, far from destroying, even strengthens the foundation +on which the institutions of state and church are erected. + +As in the question of astronomy then, so in the question of +history now, the whole difference of opinion is based on the +recognition or nonrecognition of something absolute, serving as the +measure of visible phenomena. In astronomy it was the immovability +of the earth, in history it is the independence of personality--free +will. + +As with astronomy the difficulty of recognizing the motion of the +earth lay in abandoning the immediate sensation of the earth's +fixity and of the motion of the planets, so in history the +difficulty of recognizing the subjection of personality to the laws of +space, time, and cause lies in renouncing the direct feeling of the +independence of one's own personality. 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Hogarth + + + + +I + +WHAT I CONSIDER TO HAVE BEEN THE BEGINNING OF MY YOUTH + +I have said that my friendship with Dimitri opened up for me a +new view of my life and of its aim and relations. The essence of +that view lay in the conviction that the destiny of man is to +strive for moral improvement, and that such improvement is at +once easy, possible, and lasting. Hitherto, however, I had found +pleasure only in the new ideas which I discovered to arise from +that conviction, and in the forming of brilliant plans for a +moral, active future, while all the time my life had been +continuing along its old petty, muddled, pleasure-seeking course, +and the same virtuous thoughts which I and my adored friend +Dimitri ("my own marvellous Mitia," as I used to call him to +myself in a whisper) had been wont to exchange with one another +still pleased my intellect, but left my sensibility untouched. +Nevertheless there came a moment when those thoughts swept into +my head with a sudden freshness and force of moral revelation +which left me aghast at the amount of time which I had been +wasting, and made me feel as though I must at once--that very +second--apply those thoughts to life, with the firm intention of +never again changing them. + +It is from that moment that I date the beginning of my youth. + +I was then nearly sixteen. Tutors still attended to give me +lessons, St. Jerome still acted as general supervisor of my +education, and, willy-nilly, I was being prepared for the +University. In addition to my studies, my occupations included +certain vague dreamings and ponderings, a number of gymnastic +exercises to make myself the finest athlete in the world, a good +deal of aimless, thoughtless wandering through the rooms of the +house (but more especially along the maidservants' corridor), and +much looking at myself in the mirror. From the latter, however, I +always turned away with a vague feeling of depression, almost of +repulsion. Not only did I feel sure that my exterior was ugly, +but I could derive no comfort from any of the usual consolations +under such circumstances. I could not say, for instance, that I +had at least an expressive, clever, or refined face, for there +was nothing whatever expressive about it. Its features were of +the most humdrum, dull, and unbecoming type, with small grey eyes +which seemed to me, whenever I regarded them in the mirror, to be +stupid rather than clever. Of manly bearing I possessed even +less, since, although I was not exactly small of stature, and +had, moreover, plenty of strength for my years, every feature in +my face was of the meek, sleepy-looking, indefinite type. Even +refinement was lacking in it, since, on the contrary, it +precisely resembled that of a simple-looking moujik, while I also +had the same big hands and feet as he. At the time, all this +seemed to me very shameful. + +II + +SPRINGTIME + +Easter of the year when I entered the University fell late in +April, so that the examinations were fixed for St. Thomas's Week, +[Easter week.] and I had to spend Good Friday in fasting and +finally getting myself ready for the ordeal. + +Following upon wet snow (the kind of stuff which Karl Ivanitch +used to describe as "a child following, its father"), the weather +had for three days been bright and mild and still. Not a clot of +snow was now to be seen in the streets, and the dirty slush had +given place to wet, shining pavements and coursing rivulets. The +last icicles on the roofs were fast melting in the sunshine, buds +were swelling on the trees in the little garden, the path leading +across the courtyard to the stables was soft instead of being a +frozen ridge of mud, and mossy grass was showing green between +the stones around the entrance-steps. It was just that particular +time in spring when the season exercises the strongest influence +upon the human soul--when clear sunlight illuminates everything, +yet sheds no warmth, when rivulets run trickling under one's +feet, when the air is charged with an odorous freshness, and when +the bright blue sky is streaked with long, transparent clouds. + +For some reason or another the influence of this early stage in +the birth of spring always seems to me more perceptible and more +impressive in a great town than in the country. One sees less, +but one feels more. I was standing near the window--through the +double frames of which the morning sun was throwing its mote- +flecked beams upon the floor of what seemed to me my intolerably +wearisome schoolroom--and working out a long algebraical equation +on the blackboard. In one hand I was holding a ragged, long- +suffering "Algebra" and in the other a small piece of chalk +which had already besmeared my hands, my face, and the elbows of +my jacket. Nicola, clad in an apron, and with his sleeves rolled +up, was picking out the putty from the window-frames with a pair +of nippers, and unfastening the screws. The window looked out +upon the little garden. At length his occupation and the noise +which he was making over it arrested my attention. At the moment +I was in a very cross, dissatisfied frame of mind, for nothing +seemed to be going right with me. I had made a mistake at the +very beginning of my algebra, and so should have to work it out +again; twice I had let the chalk drop. I was conscious that my +hands and face were whitened all over; the sponge had rolled away +into a corner; and the noise of Nicola's operations was fast +getting on my nerves. I had a feeling as though I wanted to fly +into a temper and grumble at some one, so I threw down chalk and +"Algebra" alike, and began to pace the room. Then suddenly I +remembered that to-day we were to go to confession, and that +therefore I must refrain from doing anything wrong. Next, with +equal suddenness I relapsed into an extraordinarily goodhumoured +frame of mind, and walked across to Nicola. + +"Let me help you, Nicola," I said, trying to speak as pleasantly +as I possibly could. The idea that I was performing a meritorious +action in thus suppressing my ill-temper and offering to help him +increased my good-humour all the more. + +By this time the putty had been chipped out, and the screws +removed, yet, though Nicola pulled with might and main at the +cross-piece, the window-frame refused to budge. + +"If it comes out as soon as he and I begin to pull at it +together," I thought, "it will be rather a shame, as then I shall +have nothing more of the kind to do to-day." + +Suddenly the frame yielded a little at one side, and came out. + +"Where shall I put it?" I said. + +"Let ME see to it, if you please," replied Nicola, evidently +surprised as well as, seemingly, not over-pleased at my zeal. +"We must not leave it here, but carry it away to the lumber-room, +where I keep all the frames stored and numbered." + +"Oh, but I can manage it," I said as I lifted it up. I verily +believe that if the lumber-room had been a couple of versts away, +and the frame twice as heavy as it was, I should have been the +more pleased. I felt as though I wanted to tire myself out in +performing this service for Nicola. When I returned to the room +the bricks and screws had been replaced on the windowsill, and +Nicola was sweeping the debris, as well as a few torpid flies, +out of the open window. The fresh, fragrant air was rushing into +and filling all the room, while with it came also the dull murmur +of the city and the twittering of sparrows in the garden. +Everything was in brilliant light, the room looked cheerful, and +a gentle spring breeze was stirring Nicola's hair and the leaves +of my "Algebra." Approaching the window, I sat down upon the +sill, turned my eyes downwards towards the garden, and fell into +a brown study. + +Something new to me, something extraordinarily potent and +unfamiliar, had suddenly invaded my soul. The wet ground on +which, here and there, a few yellowish stalks and blades of +bright-green grass were to be seen; the little rivulets +glittering in the sunshine, and sweeping clods of earth and tiny +chips of wood along with them; the reddish twigs of the lilac, +with their swelling buds, which nodded just beneath the window; +the fussy twitterings of birds as they fluttered in the bush +below; the blackened fence shining wet from the snow which had +lately melted off it; and, most of all, the raw, odorous air and +radiant sunlight--all spoke to me, clearly and unmistakably, of +something new and beautiful, of something which, though I cannot +repeat it here as it was then expressed to me, I will try to +reproduce so far as I understood it. Everything spoke to me of +beauty, happiness, and virtue--as three things which were both +easy and possible for me--and said that no one of them could +exist without the other two, since beauty, happiness, and virtue +were one. "How did I never come to understand that before?" I +cried to myself. "How did I ever manage to be so wicked? Oh, but +how good, how happy, I could be--nay, I WILL be--in the future! +At once, at once--yes, this very minute--I will become another +being, and begin to live differently!" For all that, I continued +sitting on the window-sill, continued merely dreaming, and doing +nothing. Have you ever, on a summer's day, gone to bed in dull, +rainy weather, and, waking just at sunset, opened your eyes and +seen through the square space of the window--the space where the +linen blind is blowing up and down, and beating its rod upon the +window-sill--the rain-soaked, shadowy, purple vista of an avenue +of lime-trees, with a damp garden path lit up by the clear, +slanting beams of the sun, and then suddenly heard the joyous +sounds of bird life in the garden, and seen insects flying to and +fro at the open window, and glittering in the sunlight, and smelt +the fragrance of the rain-washed air, and thought to yourself, +"Am I not ashamed to be lying in bed on such an evening as this?" +and, leaping joyously to your feet, gone out into the garden and +revelled in all that welter of life? If you have, then you can +imagine for yourself the overpowering sensation which was then +possessing me. + +III + +DREAMS + +"To-day I will make my confession and purge myself of every sin," +I thought to myself. "Nor will I ever commit another one." At +this point I recalled all the peccadilloes which most troubled my +conscience. "I will go to church regularly every Sunday, as well +as read the Gospel at the close of every hour throughout the day. +What is more, I will set aside, out of the cheque which I shall +receive each month after I have gone to the University, two-and- +a-half roubles" (a tenth of my monthly allowance) "for people who +are poor but not exactly beggars, yet without letting any one +know anything about it. Yes, I will begin to look out for people +like that--orphans or old women--at once, yet never tell a soul +what I am doing for them. + +"Also, I will have a room here of my very own (St. Jerome's, +probably), and look after it myself, and keep it perfectly clean. +I will never let any one do anything for me, for every one is +just a human being like myself. Likewise I will walk every day, +not drive, to the University. Even if some one gives me a drozhki +[Russian phaeton.] I will sell it, and devote the money to the +poor. Everything I will do exactly and always" (what that +"always" meant I could not possibly have said, but at least I had +a vivid consciousness of its connoting some kind of prudent, +moral, and irreproachable life). "I will get up all my lectures +thoroughly, and go over all the subjects beforehand, so that at +the end of my first course I may come out top and write a thesis. +During my second course also I will get up everything beforehand, +so that I may soon be transferred to the third course, and at +eighteen come out top in the examinations, and receive two gold +medals, and go on to be Master of Arts, and Doctor, and the first +scholar in Europe. Yes, in all Europe I mean to be the first +scholar.--Well, what next?" I asked myself at this point. +Suddenly it struck me that dreams of this sort were a form of +pride--a sin which I should have to confess to the priest that +very evening, so I returned to the original thread of my +meditations. "When getting up my lectures I will go to the +Vorobievi Gori, [Sparrow Hills--a public park near Moscow.] and +choose some spot under a tree, and read my lectures over there. +Sometimes I will take with me something to eat--cheese or a pie +from Pedotti's, or something of the kind. After that I will sleep +a little, and then read some good book or other, or else draw +pictures or play on some instrument (certainly I must learn to +play the flute). Perhaps SHE too will be walking on the Vorobievi +Gori, and will approach me one day and say, 'Who are you?' and I +shall look at her, oh, so sadly, and say that I am the son of a +priest, and that I am happy only when I am there alone, quite +alone. Then she will give me her hand, and say something to me, +and sit down beside me. So every day we shall go to the same +spot, and be friends together, and I shall kiss her. But no! That +would not be right! On the contrary, from this day forward I +never mean to look at a woman again. Never, never again do I mean +to walk with a girl, nor even to go near one if I can help it. +Yet, of course, in three years' time, when I have come of age, I +shall marry. Also, I mean to take as much exercise as ever I can, +and to do gymnastics every day, so that, when I have turned +twenty-five, I shall be stronger even than Rappo. On my first +day's training I mean to hold out half a pood [The Pood = 40 +Russian pounds.] at arm's length for five minutes, and the next +day twenty-one pounds, and the third day twenty-two pounds, and +so on, until at last I can hold out four poods in each hand, and +be stronger even than a porter. Then, if ever any one should try +to insult me or should begin to speak disrespectfully of HER, I +shall take him so, by the front of his coat, and lift him up an +arshin [The arshin = 2 feet 3 inches.] or two with one hand, and +just hold him there, so that he may feel my strength and cease +from his conduct. Yet that too would not be right. No, no, it +would not matter; I should not hurt him, merely show him that I--" + +Let no one blame me because the dreams of my youth were as +foolish as those of my childhood and boyhood. I am sure that, +even if it be my fate to live to extreme old age and to continue +my story with the years, I, an old man of seventy, shall be found +dreaming dreams just as impossible and childish as those I am +dreaming now. I shall be dreaming of some lovely Maria who loves +me, the toothless old man, as she might love a Mazeppa; of some +imbecile son who, through some extraordinary chance, has suddenly +become a minister of state; of my suddenly receiving a windfall +of a million of roubles. I am sure that there exists no human +being, no human age, to whom or to which that gracious, +consolatory power of dreaming is totally a stranger. Yet, save +for the one general feature of magic and impossibility, the +dreams of each human being, of each age of man, have their own +distinguishing characteristics. At the period upon which I look +as having marked the close of my boyhood and the beginning of my +youth, four leading sentiments formed the basis of my dreams. The +first of those sentiments was love for HER--for an imaginary +woman whom I always pictured the same in my dreams, and whom I +somehow expected to meet some day and somewhere. This she of mine +had a little of Sonetchka in her, a little of Masha as Masha +could look when she stood washing linen over the clothes-tub, and +a little of a certain woman with pearls round her fair white neck +whom I had once seen long, long ago at a theatre, in a box below +our own. My second sentiment was a craving for love. I wanted +every one to know me and to love me. I wanted to be able to utter +my name--Nicola Irtenieff--and at once to see every one +thunderstruck at it, and come crowding round me and thanking me +for something or another, I hardly knew what. My third sentiment +was the expectation of some extraordinary, glorious happiness +that was impending--some happiness so strong and assured as to +verge upon ecstasy. Indeed, so firmly persuaded was I that very, +very soon some unexpected chance would suddenly make me the +richest and most famous man in the world that I lived in +constant, tremulous expectation of this magic good fortune +befalling me. I was always thinking to myself that "IT is +beginning," and that I should go on thereafter to attain +everything that a man could wish for. Consequently, I was for ever +hurrying from place to place, in the belief that "IT" must be +"beginning" just where I happened not to be. Lastly, my fourth +and principal sentiment of all was abhorrence of myself, mingled +with regret--yet a regret so blended with the certain expectation +of happiness to which I have referred that it had in it nothing +of sorrow. It seemed to me that it would be so easy and natural +for me to tear myself away from my past and to remake it--to +forget all that had been, and to begin my life, with all its +relations, anew--that the past never troubled me, never clung to +me at all. I even found a certain pleasure in detesting the past, +and in seeing it in a darker light than the true one. This note +of regret and of a curious longing for perfection were the chief +mental impressions which I gathered from that new stage of my +growth--impressions which imparted new principles to my view of +myself, of men, and of God's world. O good and consoling voice, +which in later days, in sorrowful days when my soul yielded +silently to the sway of life's falseness and depravity, so often +raised a sudden, bold protest against all iniquity, as well as +mercilessly exposed the past, commanded, nay, compelled, me to +love only the pure vista of the present, and promised me all that +was fair and happy in the future! O good and consoling voice! +Surely the day will never come when you are silent? + +IV + +OUR FAMILY CIRCLE + +PAPA was seldom at home that spring. Yet, whenever he was so, he +seemed extraordinarily cheerful as he either strummed his +favourite pieces on the piano or looked roguishly at us and made +jokes about us all, not excluding even Mimi. For instance, he +would say that the Tsarevitch himself had seen Mimi at the rink, +and fallen so much in love with her that he had presented a +petition to the Synod for divorce; or else that I had been +granted an appointment as secretary to the Austrian ambassador-- +a piece of news which he imparted to us with a perfectly grave +face. Next, he would frighten Katenka with some spiders (of which +she was very much afraid), engage in an animated conversation +with our friends Dubkoff and Nechludoff, and tell us and our +guests, over and over again, his plans for the year. Although +these plans changed almost from day to day, and +were for ever contradicting one another, they seemed so +attractive that we were always glad to listen to them, and +Lubotshka, in particular, would glue her eyes to his face, so as +not to lose a single word. One day his plan would be that he +should leave my brother and myself at the University, and go and +live with Lubotshka in Italy for two years. Next, the plan would +be that he should buy an estate on the south coast of the Crimea, +and take us for an annual visit there; next, that we should +migrate en masse to St. Petersburg; and so forth. Yet, in +addition to this unusual cheerfulness of his, another change had +come over him of late--a change which greatly surprised me. This +was that he had had some fashionable clothes made--an olive- +coloured frockcoat, smart trousers with straps at the sides, and +a long wadded greatcoat which fitted him to perfection. Often, +too, there was a delightful smell of scent about him when he came +home from a party--more especially when he had been to see a lady +of whom Mimi never spoke but with a sigh and a face that seemed +to say: "Poor orphans! How dreadful! It is a good thing that SHE +is gone now!" and so on, and so on. From Nicola (for Papa never +spoke to us of his gambling) I had learnt that he (Papa) had been +very fortunate in play that winter, and so had won an +extraordinary amount of money, all of which he had placed in the +bank after vowing that he would play no more that spring. +Evidently, it was his fear of being unable to resist again doing +so that was rendering him anxious to leave for the country as +soon as possible. Indeed, he ended by deciding not to wait until +I had entered the University, but to take the girls to Petrovskoe +immediately after Easter, and to leave Woloda and myself to +follow them at a later season. + +All that winter, until the opening of spring, Woloda had been +inseparable from Dubkoff, while at the same time the pair of them +had cooled greatly towards Dimitri. Their chief amusements (so I +gathered from conversations overheard) were continual drinking of +champagne, sledge-driving past the windows of a lady with whom +both of them appeared to be in love, and dancing with her--not at +children's parties, either, but at real balls! It was this last +fact which, despite our love for one another, placed a vast gulf +between Woloda and myself. We felt that the distance between a +boy still taking lessons under a tutor and a man who danced at +real, grown-up balls was too great to allow of their exchanging +mutual ideas. Katenka, too, seemed grown-up now, and read +innumerable novels; so that the idea that she would some day be +getting married no longer seemed to me a joke. Yet, though she +and Woloda were thus grown-up, they never made friends with one +another, but, on the contrary, seemed to cherish a mutual +contempt. In general, when Katenka was at home alone, nothing but +novels amused her, and they but slightly; but as soon as ever a +visitor of the opposite sex called, she at once grew lively and +amiable, and used her eyes for saying things which I could not +then understand. It was only later, when she one day informed me +in conversation that the only thing a girl was allowed to indulge +in was coquetry--coquetry of the eyes, I mean--that I understood +those strange contortions of her features which to every one else +had seemed a matter for no surprise at all. Lubotshka also had +begun to wear what was almost a long dress--a dress which almost +concealed her goose-shaped feet; yet she still remained as ready +a weeper as ever. She dreamed now of marrying, not a hussar, but +a singer or an instrumentalist, and accordingly applied herself +to her music with greater diligence than ever. St. Jerome, who +knew that he was going to remain with us only until my +examinations were over, and so had obtained for himself a new +post in the family of some count or another, now looked with +contempt upon the members of our household. He stayed indoors +very little, took to smoking cigarettes (then all the rage), and +was for ever whistling lively tunes on the edge of a card. Mimi +daily grew more and more despondent, as though, now that we were +beginning to grow up, she looked for nothing good from any one or +anything. + +When, on the day of which I am speaking, I went in to luncheon I +found only Mimi, Katenka, Lubotshka, and St. Jerome in the +dining-room. Papa was away, and Woloda in his own room, doing +some preparation work for his examinations in company with a +party of his comrades: wherefore he had requested that lunch +should be sent to him there. Of late, Mimi had usually taken the +head of the table, and as none of us had any respect for her, +luncheon had lost most of its refinement and charm. That is to +say, the meal was no longer what it had been in Mamma's or our +grandmother's time, namely, a kind of rite which brought all the +family together at a given hour and divided the day into two +halves. We allowed ourselves to come in as late as the second +course, to drink wine in tumblers (St. Jerome himself set us the +example), to roll about on our chairs, to depart without saying +grace, and so on. In fact, luncheon had ceased to be a family +ceremony. In the old days at Petrovskoe, every one had been used +to wash and dress for the meal, and then to repair to the +drawing-room as the appointed hour (two o'clock) drew near, and +pass the time of waiting in lively conversation. Just as the +clock in the servants' hall was beginning to whirr before +striking the hour, Foka would enter with noiseless footsteps, and, +throwing his napkin over his arm and assuming a dignified, rather +severe expression, would say in loud, measured tones: "Luncheon +is ready!" Thereupon, with pleased, cheerful faces, we would form +a procession--the elders going first and the juniors following, +and, with much rustling of starched petticoats and subdued +creaking of boots and shoes--would proceed to the dining-room, +where, still talking in undertones, the company would seat +themselves in their accustomed places. Or, again, at Moscow, we +would all of us be standing before the table ready-laid in the +hall, talking quietly among ourselves as we waited for our +grandmother, whom the butler, Gabriel, had gone to acquaint with +the fact that luncheon was ready. Suddenly the door would open, +there would come the faint swish of a dress and the sound of +footsteps, and our grandmother--dressed in a mob-cap trimmed with +a quaint old lilac bow, and wearing either a smile or a severe +expression on her face according as the state of her health +inclined her--would issue from her room. Gabriel would hasten to +precede her to her arm-chair, the other chairs would make a +scraping sound, and, with a feeling as though a cold shiver (the +precursor of appetite) were running down one's back, one would +seize upon one's damp, starched napkin, nibble a morsel or two of +bread, and, rubbing one's hands softly under the table, gaze with +eager, radiant impatience at the steaming plates of soup which +the butler was beginning to dispense in order of ranks and ages +or according to the favour of our grandmother. + +On the present occasion, however, I was conscious of neither +excitement nor pleasure when I went in to luncheon. Even the +mingled chatter of Mimi, the girls, and St. Jerome about the +horrible boots of our Russian tutor, the pleated dresses worn by +the young Princesses Kornakoff, and so forth (chatter which at +any other time would have filled me with a sincerity of contempt +which I should have been at no pains to conceal--at all events so +far as Lubotshka and Katenka were concerned), failed to shake the +benevolent frame of mind into which I had fallen. I was unusually +good-humoured that day, and listened to everything with a smile +and a studied air of kindness. Even when I asked for the kvas I +did so politely, while I lost not a moment in agreeing with St. +Jerome when he told me that it was undoubtedly more correct to +say "Je peux" than "Je puis." Yet, I must confess to a certain +disappointment at finding that no one paid any particular +attention to my politeness and good-humour. After luncheon, +Lubotshka showed me a paper on which she had written down a list +of her sins: upon which I observed that, although the idea was +excellent so far as it went, it would be still better for her to +write down her sins on her SOUL--"a very different matter." + +"Why is it 'a very different matter'?" asked Lubotshka. + +"Never mind: that is all right; you do not understand me," and I +went upstairs to my room, telling St. Jerome that I was going to +work, but in reality purposing to occupy the hour and a half +before confession time in writing down a list of my daily tasks +and duties which should last me all my life, together with a +statement of my life's aim, and the rules by which I meant +unswervingly to be guided. + +v + +MY RULES + +I TOOK some sheets of paper, and tried, first of all, to make a +list of my tasks and duties for the coming year. The paper needed +ruling, but, as I could not find the ruler, I had to use a Latin +dictionary instead. The result was that, when I had drawn the pen +along the edge of the dictionary and removed the latter, I found +that, in place of a line, I had only made an oblong smudge on the +paper, since the, dictionary was not long enough to reach across +it, and the pen had slipped round the soft, yielding corner of +the book. Thereupon I took another piece of paper, and, by +carefully manipulating the dictionary, contrived to rule what at +least RESEMBLED lines. Dividing my duties into three sections-- +my duties to myself, my duties to my neighbour, and my duties to +God--I started to indite a list of the first of those sections, +but they seemed to me so numerous, and therefore requiring to be +divided into so many species and subdivisions, that I thought I +had better first of all write down the heading of "Rules of My +Life" before proceeding to their detailed inscription. +Accordingly, I proceeded to write "Rules of My Life" on the +outside of the six sheets of paper which I had made into a sort +of folio, but the words came out in such a crooked and uneven +scrawl that for long I sat debating the question, "Shall I write +them again?"--for long, sat in agonised contemplation of the +ragged handwriting and disfigured title-page. Why was it that all +the beauty and clarity which my soul then contained came out so +misshapenly on paper (as in life itself) just when I was wishing +to apply those qualities to what I was thinking at the moment? + +"The priest is here, so please come downstairs and hear his +directions," said Nicola as he entered, + +Hurriedly concealing my folio under the table-cloth, I looked at +myself in the mirror, combed my hair upwards (I imagined this to +give me a pensive air), and descended to the divannaia, [Room +with divans, or ante-room] where the table stood covered with a +cloth and had an ikon and candles placed upon it. Papa entered +just as I did, but by another door: whereupon the priest--a grey- +headed old monk with a severe, elderly face--blessed him, and +Papa kissed his small, squat, wizened hand. I did the same. + +"Go and call Woldemar," said Papa. "Where is he? Wait a minute, +though. Perhaps he is preparing for the Communion at the +University?" + +"No, he is with the Prince," said Katenka, and glanced at +Lubotshka. Suddenly the latter blushed for some reason or +another, and then frowned. Finally, pretending that she was not +well, she left the room, and I followed her. In the drawing-room +she halted, and began to pencil something fresh on her paper of +peccadilloes. + +"Well, what new sin have you gone and committed?" I asked. + +"Nothing," she replied with another blush. All at once we heard +Dimitri's voice raised in the hall as he took his leave of +Woloda. + +"It seems to me you are always experiencing some new temptation," +said Katenka, who had entered the room behind us, and now stood +looking at Lubotshka. + +What was the matter with my sister I could not conceive, but she +was now so agitated that the tears were starting from her eyes. +Finally her confusion grew uncontrollable, and vented itself in +rage against both herself and Katenka, who appeared to be teasing +her. + +"Any one can see that you are a FOREIGNER!" she cried (nothing +offended Katenka so much as to be called by that term, which is +why Lubotshka used it). "Just because I have the secret of which +you know," she went on, with anger ringing through her tone, "you +purposely go and upset me! Please do understand that it is no +joking matter." + +"Do you know what she has gone and written on her paper, +Nicolinka? cried Katenka, much infuriated by the term +"foreigner." "She has written down that--" + +"Oh, I never could have believed that you could be so cruel!" +exclaimed Lubotshka, now bursting into open sobbing as she moved +away from us. "You chose that moment on purpose! You spend your +whole time in trying to make me sin! I'll never go to YOU again +for sympathy and advice!" + +VI + +CONFESSION + +With these and other disjointed impressions in my mind, I returned +to the divannaia. As soon as every one had reassembled, the +priest rose and prepared to read the prayer before confession. +The instant that the silence was broken by the stern, expressive +voice of the monk as he recited the prayer--and more especially +when he addressed to us the words: "Reveal thou all thy sins +without shame, concealment, or extenuation, and let thy soul be +cleansed before God: for if thou concealest aught, then great +will be thy sin"--the same sensation of reverent awe came over me +as I had felt during the morning. I even took a certain pleasure +in recognising this condition of mine, and strove to preserve it, +not only by restraining all other thoughts from entering my +brain, but also by consciously exerting myself to feel no other +sensation than this same one of reverence. + +Papa was the first to go to confession. He remained a long, long +time in the room which had belonged to our grandmother, and +during that time the rest of us kept silence in the divannaia, or +only whispered to one another on the subject of who should +precede whom. At length, the voice of the priest again reading the +prayer sounded from the doorway, and then Papa's footsteps. The +door creaked as he came out, coughing and holding one shoulder +higher than the other, in his usual way, and for the moment he +did not look at any of us. + +"YOU go now, Luba," he said presently, as he gave her cheek a +mischievous pinch. "Mind you tell him everything. You are my +greatest sinner, you know." + +Lubotshka went red and pale by turns, took her memorandum paper +out of her apron, replaced it, and finally moved away towards the +doorway with her head sunk between her shoulders as though she +expected to receive a blow upon it from above. She was not long +gone, and when she returned her shoulders were shaking with sobs. + +At length--next after the excellent Katenka (who came out of the +doorway with a smile on her face)--my turn arrived. I entered the +dimly-lighted room with the same vague feeling of awe, the same +conscious eagerness to arouse that feeling more and more in my +soul, that had possessed me up to the present moment. The priest, +standing in front of a reading-desk, slowly turned his face to +me. + +I was not more than five minutes in the room, but came out from +it happy and (so I persuaded myself) entirely cleansed--a new, a +morally reborn individual. Despite the fact that the old +surroundings of my life now struck me as unfamiliar (even though +the rooms, the furniture, and my own figure--would to heavens +that I could have changed my outer man for the better in the same +way that I believed myself to have changed my inner I--were the +same as before), I remained in that comfortable attitude of mine +until the very moment of bedtime. + +Yet, no sooner had I begun to grow drowsy with the conning over +of my sins than in a flash I recollected a particularly shameful +sin which I had suppressed at confession time. Instantly the +words of the prayer before confession came back to my memory and +began sounding in my ears. My peace was gone for ever. "For if +thou concealest aught, then great will be thy sin." Each time +that the phrase recurred to me I saw myself a sinner for whom no +punishment was adequate. Long did I toss from side to side as I +considered my position, while expecting every moment to be +visited with the divine wrath--to be struck with sudden death, +perhaps!--an insupportable thought! Then suddenly the reassuring +thought occurred to me: "Why should I not drive out to the +monastery when the morning comes, and see the priest again, and +make a second confession?" Thereafter I grew calmer. + +VII + +THE EXPEDITION TO THE MONASTERY + +Several times that night I woke in terror at the thought that I +might be oversleeping myself, and by six o'clock was out of bed, +although the dawn was hardly peeping in at the window. I put on +my clothes and boots (all of which were lying tumbled and +unbrushed beside the bed, since Nicola, of course had not been in +yet to tidy them up), and, without a prayer said or my face +washed, emerged, for the first time in my life, into the street +ALONE. + +Over the way, behind the green roof of a large building, the dim, +cold dawn was beginning to blush red. The keen frost of the +spring morning which had stiffened the pools and mud and made +them crackle under my feet now nipped my face and hands also. Not +a cab was to be seen, though I had counted upon one to make the +journey out and home the quicker. Only a file of waggons was +rumbling along the Arbat Prospect, and a couple of bricklayers +talking noisily together as they strode along the pavement. +However, after walking a verst or so I began to meet men and +women taking baskets to market or going with empty barrels to +fetch the day's water supply; until at length, at the cross +streets near the Arbat Gate, where a pieman had set up his stall +and a baker was just opening his shop, I espied an old cabman +shaking himself after indulging in a nap on the box of his be- +scratched old blue-painted, hobble-de-hoy wreck of a drozhki. He +seemed barely awake as he asked twenty copecks as the fare to the +monastery and back, but came to himself a moment afterwards, just +as I was about to get in, and, touching up his horse with the +spare end of the reins, started to drive off and leave me. "My +horse wants feeding," he growled, "I can't take you, barin.[Sir]" + +With some difficulty and a promise of FORTY copecks I persuaded +him to stop. He eyed me narrowly as he pulled up, but +nevertheless said: "Very well. Get in, barin." I must confess +that I had some qualms lest he should drive me to a quiet corner +somewhere, and then rob me, but I caught hold of the collar of +his ragged driving-coat, close to where his wrinkled neck showed +sadly lean above his hunched-up back, and climbed on to the blue- +painted, curved, rickety scat. As we set off along Vozdvizhenka +Street, I noticed that the back of the drozhki was covered with a +strip of the same greenish material as that of which his coat was +made. For some reason or another this reassured me, and I no +longer felt nervous of being taken to a quiet spot and robbed. + +The sun had risen to a good height, and was gilding the cupolas +of the churches, when we arrived at the monastery. In the shade +the frost had not yet given, but in the open roadway muddy +rivulets of water were coursing along, and it was through fast- +thawing mire that the horse went clip-clopping his way. +Alighting, and entering the monastery grounds, I inquired of the +first monk whom I met where I could find the priest whom I was +seeking. + +"His cell is over there," replied the monk as he stopped a moment +and pointed towards a little building up to which a flight of +steps led. + +"I respectfully thank you," I said, and then fell to wondering +what all the monks (who at that moment began to come filing out +of the church) must be thinking of me as they glanced in my +direction. I was neither a grown-up nor a child, while my face +was unwashed, my hair unbrushed, my clothes tumbled, and my boots +unblacked and muddy. To what class of persons were the brethren +assigning me--for they stared at me hard enough? Nevertheless I +proceeded in the direction which the young priest had pointed out +to me. + +An old man with bushy grey eyebrows and a black cassock met me on +the narrow path to the cells, and asked me what I wanted. For a +brief moment I felt inclined to say "Nothing," and then run back +to the drozhki and drive away home; but, for all its beetling +brows, the face of the old man inspired confidence, and I merely +said that I wished to see the priest (whom I named). + +"Very well, young sir; I will take you to him," said the old man +as he turned round. Clearly he had guessed my errand at a stroke. +"The father is at matins at this moment, but he will soon be +back," and, opening a door, the old man led me through a neat +hall and corridor, all lined with clean matting, to a cell. + +"Please to wait here," he added, and then, with a kind, +reassuring glance, departed. + +The little room in which I found myself was of the smallest +possible dimensions, but extremely neat and clean. Its furniture +only consisted of a small table (covered with a cloth, and placed +between two equally small casement-windows, in which stood two +pots of geraniums), a stand of ikons, with a lamp suspended in +front of them, a bench, and two chairs. In one corner hung a wall +clock, with little flowers painted on its dial, and brass weights +to its chains, while upon two nails driven into a screen (which, +fastened to the ceiling with whitewashed pegs, probably concealed +the bed) hung a couple of cassocks. The windows looked out upon a +whitewashed wall, about two arshins distant, and in the space +between them there grew a small lilac-bush. + +Not a sound penetrated from without, and in the stillness the +measured, friendly stroke of the clock's pendulum seemed to beat +quite loudly. The instant that I found myself alone in this calm +retreat all other thoughts and recollections left my head as +completely as though they had never been there, and I subsided +into an inexpressibly pleasing kind of torpor. The rusty alpaca +cassocks with their frayed linings, the worn black leather +bindings of the books with their metal clasps, the dull-green +plants with their carefully watered leaves and soil, and, above +all, the abrupt, regular beat of the pendulum, all spoke to me +intimately of some new life hitherto unknown to me--a life of +unity and prayer, of calm, restful happiness. + +"The months, the years, may pass," I thought to myself, "but he +remains alone--always at peace, always knowing that his +conscience is pure before God, that his prayer will be heard by +Him." For fully half an hour I sat on that chair, trying not to +move, not even to breathe loudly, for fear I should mar the +harmony of the sounds which were telling me so much, and ever the +pendulum continued to beat the same--now a little louder to the +right, now a little softer to the left. + +VIII + +THE SECOND CONFESSION + +Suddenly the sound of the priest's footsteps roused me from this +reverie. + +"Good morning to you," he said as he smoothed his grey hair with +his hand. "What can I do for you?" + +I besought him to give me his blessing, and then kissed his +small, wizened hand with great fervour. After I had explained to +him my errand he said nothing, but moved away towards the ikons, +and began to read the exhortation: whereupon I overcame my shame, +and told him all that was in my heart. Finally he laid his hands +upon my head, and pronounced in his even, resonant voice the +words: "My son, may the blessing of Our Heavenly Father be upon +thee, and may He always preserve thee in faithfulness, loving- +kindness, and meekness. Amen." + +I was entirely happy. Tears of joy coursed down my face as I +kissed the hem of his cassock and then raised my head again. The +face of the priest expressed perfect tranquillity. So keenly did +I feel the joy of reconciliation that, fearing in any way to +dispel it, I took hasty leave of him, and, without looking to one +side of me or the other (in order that my attention might not be +distracted), left the grounds and re-entered the rickety, +battered drozhki. Yet the joltings of the vehicle and the variety +of objects which flitted past my eyes soon dissipated that +feeling, and I became filled with nothing but the idea that the +priest must have thought me the finest-spirited young man he had +ever met, or ever would meet, in the whole of his life. Indeed, I +reflected, there could not be many such as myself--of that I felt +sure, and the conviction produced in me the kind of complacency +which craves for self-communication to another. I had a great +desire to unbosom myself to some one, and as there was no one +else to speak to, I addressed myself to the cabman. + +"Was I very long gone? " I asked him. + +" No, not very long," he replied. He seemed to have grown more +cheerful under the influence of the sunshine. "Yet now it is a +good while past my horse's feeding-time. You see, I am a night +cabman." + +"Well, I only seemed to myself to be about a minute," I went on. +"Do you know what I went there for?" I added, changing my seat to +the well of the drozhki, so as to be nearer the driver. + +"What business is it of mine? I drive a fare where he tells me to +go," he replied. + +"Yes, but, all the same, what do you think I went there for?" I +persisted. + +"I expect some one you know is going to be buried there, so you +went to see about a plot for the grave." + +"No, no, my friend. Still, DO you know what I went there for?" + +"No, of course I cannot tell, barin," he repeated. + +His voice seemed to me so kind that I decided to edify him by +relating the cause of my expedition, and even telling him of the +feeling which I had experienced. + +"Shall I tell you?" I said. "Well, you see,"--and I told him all, +as well as inflicted upon him a description of my fine +sentiments. To this day I blush at the recollection. + +"Well, well!" said the cabman non-committally, and for a long +while afterwards he remained silent and motionless, except that +at intervals he adjusted the skirt of his coat each time that it +was jerked from beneath his leg by the joltings of his huge boot +on the drozhki's step. I felt sure that he must be thinking of me +even as the priest had done. That is to say, that he must be +thinking that no such fine-spirited young man existed in the +world as I. Suddenly he shot at me: + +"I tell you what, barin. You ought to keep God's affairs to +yourself." + +"What?" I said. + +"Those affairs of yours--they are God's business," he repeated, +mumbling the words with his toothless lips. + +"No, he has not understood me," I thought to myself, and said no +more to him till we reached home. + +Although it was not my original sense of reconciliation and +reverence, but only a sort of complacency at having experienced +such a sense, that lasted in me during the drive home (and that, +too, despite the distraction of the crowds of people who now +thronged the sunlit streets in every direction), I had no sooner +reached home than even my spurious complacency was shattered, for +I found that I had not the forty copecks wherewith to pay the +cabman! To the butler, Gabriel, I already owed a small debt, and +he refused to lend me any more. Seeing me twice run across the +courtyard in quest of the money, the cabman must have divined the +reason, for, leaping from his drozhki, he--notwithstanding that +he had seemed so kind--began to bawl aloud (with an evident +desire to punch my head) that people who do not pay for their +cab-rides are swindlers. + +None of my family were yet out of bed, so that, except for the +servants, there was no one from whom to borrow the forty copecks. +At length, on my most sacred, sacred word of honour to repay (a +word to which, as I could see from his face, he did not +altogether trust), Basil so far yielded to his fondness for me +and his remembrance of the many services I had done him as to pay +the cabman. Thus all my beautiful feelings ended in smoke. When I +went upstairs to dress for church and go to Communion with the +rest I found that my new clothes had not yet come home, and so I +could not wear them. Then I sinned headlong. Donning my other +suit, I went to Communion in a sad state of mental perturbation, +and filled with complete distrust of all my finer impulses. + +IX + +HOW I PREPARED MYSELF FOR THE EXAMINATIONS + +On the Thursday in Easter week Papa, my sister, Katenka, and Mimi +went away into the country, and no one remained in my +grandmother's great house but Woloda, St. Jerome, and myself. The +frame of mind which I had experienced on the day of my confession +and during my subsequent expedition to the monastery had now +completely passed away, and left behind it only a dim, though +pleasing, memory which daily became more and more submerged by +the impressions of this emancipated existence. + +The folio endorsed "Rules of My Life" lay concealed beneath a +pile of school-books. Although the idea of the possibility of +framing rules, for every occasion in my life and always letting +myself be guided by them still pleased me (since it appeared an +idea at once simple and magnificent, and I was determined to make +practical application of it), I seemed somehow to have forgotten +to put it into practice at once, and kept deferring doing so +until such and such a moment. At the same time, I took pleasure +in the thought that every idea which now entered my head could be +allotted precisely to one or other of my three sections of tasks +and duties--those for or to God, those for or to my neighbour, and +those for or to myself. "I can always refer everything to them," +I said to myself, "as well as the many, many other ideas which +occur to me on one subject or another." Yet at this period I +often asked myself, "Was I better and more truthful when I only +believed in the power of the human intellect, or am I more so +now, when I am losing the faculty of developing that power, and +am in doubt both as to its potency and as to its importance?" To +this I could return no positive answer. + +The sense of freedom, combined with the spring-like feeling of +vague expectation to which I have referred already, so unsettled +me that I could not keep myself in hand--could make none but the +sorriest of preparations for my University ordeal. Thus I was +busy in the schoolroom one morning, and fully aware that I must +work hard, seeing that to-morrow was the day of my examination in +a subject of which I had the two whole questions still to read +up; yet no sooner had a breath of spring come wafted through the +window than I felt as though there were something quite different +that I wished to recall to my memory. My hands laid down my book, +my feet began to move of themselves, and to set me walking up and +down the room, and my head felt as though some one had suddenly +touched in it a little spring and set some machine in motion--so +easily and swiftly and naturally did all sorts of pleasing +fancies of which I could catch no more than the radiancy begin +coursing through it. Thus one hour, two hours, elapsed +unperceived. Even if I sat down determinedly to my book, and +managed to concentrate my whole attention upon what I was +reading, suddenly there would sound in the corridor the footsteps +of a woman and the rustle of her dress. Instantly everything +would escape my mind, and I would find it impossible to remain +still any longer, however much I knew that the woman could only +be either Gasha or my grandmother's old sewing-maid moving about +in the corridor. "Yet suppose it should be SHE all at once?" I +would say to myself. "Suppose IT is beginning now, and I were to +lose it?" and, darting out into the corridor, I would find, each +time, that it was only Gasha. Yet for long enough afterwards I +could not recall my attention to my studies. A little spring had +been touched in my head, and a strange mental ferment started +afresh. Again, that evening I was sitting alone beside a tallow +candle in my room. Suddenly I looked up for a moment--to snuff +the candle, or to straighten myself in my chair--and at once +became aware of nothing but the darkness in the corners and the +blank of the open doorway. Then, I also became conscious how still +the house was, and felt as though I could do nothing else than go +on listening to that stillness, and gazing into the black square +of that open doorway, and gradually sinking into a brown study as +I sat there without moving. At intervals, however, I would get +up, and go downstairs, and begin wandering through the empty +rooms. Once I sat a long while in the small drawing-room as I +listened to Gasha playing "The Nightingale" (with two fingers) on +the piano in the large drawing-room, where a solitary candle +burned. Later, when the moon was bright, I felt obliged to get +out of bed and to lean out of the window, so that I might gaze +into the garden, and at the lighted roof of the Shaposnikoff +mansion, the straight tower of our parish church, and the dark +shadows of the fence and the lilac-bush where they lay black upon +the path. So long did I remain there that, when I at length +returned to bed, it was ten o'clock in the morning before I could +open my eyes again. + +In short, had it not been for the tutors who came to give me +lessons, as well as for St. Jerome (who at intervals, and very +grudgingly, applied a spur to my self-conceit) and, most of all, +for the desire to figure as "clever" in the eyes of my friend +Nechludoff (who looked upon distinctions in University +examinations as a matter of first-rate importance)--had it not +been for all these things, I say, the spring and my new freedom +would have combined to make me forget everything I had ever +learnt, and so to go through the examinations to no purpose +whatsoever. + +X + +THE EXAMINATION IN HISTORY + +ON the 16th of April I entered, for the first time, and under the +wing of St. Jerome, the great hall of the University. I had +driven there with St. Jerome in our smart phaeton and wearing the +first frockcoat of my life, while the whole of my other clothes-- +even down to my socks and linen--were new and of a grander sort. +When a Swiss waiter relieved me of my greatcoat, and I stood +before him in all the beauty of my attire, I felt almost sorry to +dazzle him so. Yet I had no sooner entered the bright, carpeted, +crowded hall, and caught sight of hundreds of other young men in +gymnasium [The Russian gymnasium = the English grammar or +secondary school.] uniforms or frockcoats (of whom but a few +threw me an indifferent glance), as well as, at the far end, of +some solemn-looking professors who were seated on chairs or +walking carelessly about among some tables, than I at once became +disabused of the notion that I should attract the general +attention, while the expression of my face, which at home, and +even in the vestibule of the University buildings, had denoted +only a kind of vague regret that I should have to present so +important and distinguished an appearance, became exchanged for +an expression of the most acute nervousness and dejection. +However, I soon picked up again when I perceived sitting at one +of the desks a very badly, untidily dressed gentleman who, +though not really old, was almost entirely grey. He was occupying +a seat quite at the back of the hall and a little apart from the +rest, so I hastened to sit down beside him, and then fell to +looking at the candidates for examination, and to forming +conclusions about them. Many different figures and faces were +there to be seen there; yet, in my opinion, they all seemed to +divide themselves into three classes. First of all, there were +youths like myself, attending for examination in the company of +their parents or tutors. Among such I could see the youngest Iwin +(accompanied by Frost) and Ilinka Grap (accompanied by his old +father). All youths of this class wore the early beginnings of +beards, sported prominent linen, sat quietly in their places, and +never opened the books and notebooks which they had brought with +them, but gazed at the professors and examination tables with +ill-concealed nervousness. The second class of candidates were +young men in gymnasium uniforms. Several of them had attained to +the dignity of shaving, and most of them knew one another. They +talked loudly, called the professors by their names and surnames, +occupied themselves in getting their subjects ready, exchanged +notebooks, climbed over desks, fetched themselves pies and +sandwiches from the vestibule, and ate them then and there merely +lowering their heads to the level of a desk for propriety's sake. +Lastly, the third class of candidates (which seemed a small one) +consisted of oldish men--some of them in frock coats, but the +majority in jackets, and with no linen to be seen. These +preserved a serious demeanour, sat by themselves, and had a very +dingy look. The man who had afforded me consolation by being +worse dressed than myself belonged to this class. Leaning forward +upon his elbows, and running his fingers through his grey, +dishevelled hair as he read some book or another, he had thrown +me only a momentary glance--and that not a very friendly one-- +from a pair of glittering eyes. Then, as I sat down, he had +frowned grimly, and stuck a shiny elbow out to prevent me from +coming any nearer. On the other hand, the gymnasium men were +over-sociable, and I felt rather afraid of their proximity. One +of them did not hesitate to thrust a book into my hands, saying, +"Give that to that fellow over there, will you?" while another +of them exclaimed as he pushed past me, "By your leave, young +fellow!" and a third made use of my shoulder as a prop when he +wanted to scramble over a desk. All this seemed to me a little +rough and unpleasant, for I looked upon myself as immensely +superior to such fellows, and considered that they ought not to +treat me with such familiarity. At length, the names began to be +called out. The gymnasium men walked out boldly, answered their +questions (apparently) well, and came back looking cheerful. My +own class of candidates were much more diffident, as well as +appeared to answer worse. Of the oldish men, some answered well, +and some very poorly. When the name "Semenoff " was called out my +neighbour with the grey hair and glittering eyes jostled me +roughly, stepped over my legs, and went up to one of the +examiners' tables. It was plain from the aspect of the professors +that he answered well and with assurance, yet, on returning to +his place, he did not wait to see where he was placed on the +list, but quietly collected his notebooks and departed. Several +times I shuddered at the sound of the voice calling out the +names, but my turn did not come in exact alphabetical order, +though already names had begun to be called beginning with "I." + +"Ikonin and Tenieff!" suddenly shouted some one from the +professors' end of the hall. + +"Go on, Ikonin! You are being called," said a tall, red-faced +gymnasium student near me. "But who is this BARtenieff or +MORtenieff or somebody? I don't know him." + +"It must be you," whispered St. Jerome loudly in my ear. + +"MY name is IRtenieff," I said to the red-faced student. "Do you +think that was the name they were calling out?" + +"Yes. Why on earth don't you go up? " he replied. "Lord, what a +dandy!" he added under his breath, yet not so quietly but that I +failed to hear the words as they came wafted to me from below the +desk. In front of me walked Ikonin--a tall young man of about +twenty-five, who was one of those whom I had classed as oldish +men. He wore a tight brown frockcoat and a blue satin tie, and +had wisps of flaxen hair carefully brushed over his collar in the +peasant style. His appearance had already caught my attention +when we were sitting among the desks, and had given me an +impression that he was not bad-looking. Also I had noticed that +he was very talkative. Yet what struck me most about his +physiognomy was a tuft, of queer red hairs which he had under his +chin, as well as, still more, a strange habit of continually +unbuttoning his waistcoat and scratching his chest under his +shirt. + +Behind the table to which we were summoned sat three Professors, +none of whom acknowledged our salutations. A youngish professor +was shuffling a bundle of tickets like a pack of cards; another +one, with a star on his frockcoat, was gazing hard at a gymnasium +student, who was repeating something at great speed about Charles +the Great, and adding to each of his sentences the word nakonetz +[= the English colloquialism "you know."] while a third one--an +old man in spectacles--proceeded to bend his head down as we +approached, and, peering at us through his glasses, pointed +silently to the tickets. I felt his glance go over both myself +and Ikonin, and also felt sure that something about us had +displeased him (perhaps it was Ikonin's red hairs), for, after +taking another look at the pair of us, he motioned impatiently to +us to be quick in taking our tickets. I felt vexed and offended-- +firstly, because none of the professors had responded to our +bows, and, secondly, because they evidently coupled me with +Ikonin under the one denomination of "candidates," and so were +condemning me in advance on account of Ikonin's red hairs. I took +my ticket boldly and made ready to answer, but the professor's +eye passed over my head and alighted upon Ikonin. Accordingly, I +occupied myself in reading my ticket. The questions printed on it +were all familiar to me, so, as I silently awaited my turn, I +gazed at what was passing near me, Ikonin seemed in no way +diffident--rather the reverse, for, in reaching for his ticket, +he threw his body half-way across the table. Then he gave his +long hair a shake, and rapidly conned over what was written on +his ticket. I think he had just opened his mouth to answer when +the professor with the star dismissed the gymnasium student with +a word of commendation, and then turned and looked at Ikonin. At +once the latter seemed taken back, and stopped short. For about +two minutes there was a dead silence. + +"Well?" said the professor in the spectacles. + +Once more Ikonin opened his mouth, and once more remained silent. + +" Come! You are not the only one to be examined. Do you mean to +answer or do you not?" said the youngish professor, but Ikonin +did not even look at him. He was gazing fixedly at his ticket and +uttered not a single word. The professor in the spectacles +scanned him through his glasses, then over them, then without +them (for, indeed, he had time to take them off, to wipe their +lenses carefully, and to replace them). Still not a word from +Ikonin. All at once, however, a smile spread itself over his +face, and he gave his long hair another shake. Next he reached +across the table, laid down his ticket, looked at each of the +professors in turn and then at myself, and finally, wheeling +round on his heels, made a gesture with his hand and returned to +the desks. The professors stared blankly at one another. + +"Bless the fellow!" said the youngish professor. "What an +original!" + +It was now my turn to move towards the table, but the professors +went on talking in undertones among themselves, as though they +were unaware of my presence. At the moment, I felt firmly +persuaded that the three of them were engrossed solely with the +question of whether I should merely PASS the examination or +whether I should pass it WELL, and that it was only swagger which +made them pretend that they did not care either way, and behave +as though they had not seen me. + +When at length the professor in the spectacles turned to me with +an air of indifference, and invited me to answer, I felt hurt, as +I looked at him, to think that he should have so undeceived me: +wherefore I answered brokenly at first. In time, however, things +came easier to my tongue, and, inasmuch as all the questions bore +upon Russian history (which I knew thoroughly), I ended with +eclat, and even went so far, in my desire to convince the +professors that I was not Ikonin and that they must not in anyway +confound me with him, as to offer to draw a second ticket. The +professor in the spectacles, however, merely nodded his head, +said "That will do," and marked something in his register. On +returning to the desks, I at once learnt from the gymnasium men +(who somehow seemed to know everything) that I had been placed +fifth. + +XI + +MY EXAMINATION IN MATHEMATICS + +AT the subsequent examinations, I made several new acquaintances +in addition to the Graps (whom I considered unworthy of my +notice) and Iwin (who for some reason or other avoided me). With +some of these new friends I grew quite intimate, and even Ikonin +plucked up sufficient courage to inform me, when we next met, +that he would have to undergo re-examination in history--the +reason for his failure this time being that the professor of that +faculty had never forgiven him for last year's examination, and +had, indeed, "almost killed" him for it. Semenoff (who was +destined for the same faculty as myself--the faculty of +mathematics) avoided every one up to the very close of +the examinations. Always leaning forward upon his elbows and +running his fingers through his grey hair, he sat silent and +alone. Nevertheless, when called up for examination in +mathematics (he had no companion to accompany him), he came out +second. The first place was taken by a student from the first +gymnasium--a tall, dark, lanky, pale-faced fellow who wore a +black folded cravat and had his cheeks and forehead dotted all +over with pimples. His hands were shapely and slender, but their +nails were so bitten to the quick that the finger-ends looked as +though they had been tied round with strips of thread. All this +seemed to me splendid, and wholly becoming to a student of the +first gymnasium. He spoke to every one, and we all made friends +with him. To me in particular his walk, his every movement, his +lips, his dark eyes, all seemed to have in them something +extraordinary and magnetic. + +On the day of the mathematical examination I arrived earlier than +usual at the hall. I knew the syllabus well, yet there were two +questions in the algebra which my tutor had managed to pass over, +and which were therefore quite unknown to me. If I remember +rightly, they were the Theory of Combinations and Newton's +Binomial. I seated myself on one of the back benches and pored +over the two questions, but, inasmuch as I was not accustomed to +working in a noisy room, and had even less time for preparation +than I had anticipated, I soon found it difficult to take in all +that I was reading. + +"Here he is. This way, Nechludoff," said Woloda's familiar voice +behind me. + +I turned and saw my brother and Dimitri--their gowns unbuttoned, +and their hands waving a greeting to me--threading their way +through the desks. A moment's glance would have sufficed to show +any one that they were second-course students--persons to whom +the University was as a second home. The mere look of their open +gowns expressed at once disdain for the "mere candidate" and a +knowledge that the "mere candidate's" soul was filled with envy +and admiration of them. I was charmed to think that every one +near me could now see that I knew two real second-course +students: wherefore I hastened to meet them half-way. + +Woloda, of course, could not help vaunting his superiority a +little. + +"Hullo, you smug!" he said. "Haven't you been examined yet?" + +"No." + +"Well, what are you reading? Aren't you sufficiently primed?" + +"Yes, except in two questions. I don't understand them at all." + +"Eh, what?"--and Woloda straightway began to expound to me +Newton's Binomial, but so rapidly and unintelligibly that, +suddenly reading in my eyes certain misgivings as to the +soundness of his knowledge, he glanced also at Dimitri's face. +Clearly, he saw the same misgivings there, for he blushed hotly, +though still continuing his involved explanations. + +"No; hold on, Woloda, and let me try and do it," put in Dimitri +at length, with a glance at the professors' corner as he seated +himself beside me. + +I could see that my friend was in the best of humours. This was +always the case with him when he was satisfied with himself, and +was one of the things in him which I liked best. Inasmuch as he +knew mathematics well and could speak clearly, he hammered the +question so thoroughly into my head that I can remember it to +this day. Hardly had he finished when St. Jerome said to me in a +loud whisper, "A vous, Nicolas," and I followed Ikonin out from +among the desks without having had an opportunity of going +through the OTHER question of which I was ignorant. At the table +which we now approached were seated two professors, while before +the blackboard stood a gymnasium student, who was working some +formula aloud, and knocking bits off the end of the chalk with +his too vigorous strokes. He even continued writing after one of +the Professors had said to him "Enough!" and bidden us draw our +tickets. "Suppose I get the Theory of Combinations?" I thought to +myself as my tremulous fingers took a ticket from among a bundle +wrapped in torn paper. Ikonin, for his part, reached across the +table with the same assurance, and the same sidelong movement of +his whole body, as he had done at the previous examination. +Taking the topmost ticket without troubling to make further +selection, he just glanced at it, and then frowned angrily. + +"I always draw this kind of thing," he muttered. + +I looked at mine. Horrors! It was the Theory of Combinations! + +"What have you got?" whispered Ikonin at this point. + +I showed him. + +"Oh, I know that," he said. + +"Will you make an exchange, then?" + +"No. Besides, it would be all the same for me if I did," he +contrived to whisper just as the professor called us up to the +blackboard. "I don't feel up to anything to-day." + +"Then everything is lost!" I thought to myself. Instead of the +brilliant result which I had anticipated I should be for ever +covered with shame--more so even than Ikonin! Suddenly, under the +very eyes of the professor, Ikonin turned to me, snatched my +ticket out of my hands, and handed me his own. I looked at his +ticket. It was Newton's Binomial! + +The professor was a youngish man, with a pleasant, clever +expression of face--an effect chiefly due to the prominence of +the lower part of his forehead. + +"What? Are you exchanging tickets, gentlemen?" he said. + +"No. He only gave me his to look at, professor," answered Ikonin-- +and, sure enough, the word "professor" was the last word that he +uttered there. Once again, he stepped backwards towards me from +the table, once again he looked at each of the professors in turn +and then at myself, once again he smiled faintly, and once again +he shrugged his shoulders as much as to say, "It is no use, my +good sirs." Then he returned to the desks. Subsequently, I learnt +that this was the third year he had vainly attempted to +matriculate. + +I answered my question well, for I had just read it up; and the +professor, kindly informing me that I had done even better than +was required, placed me fifth. + +XII + +MY EXAMINATION IN LATIN + +All went well until my examination in Latin. So far, a gymnasium +student stood first on the list, Semenoff second, and myself +third. On the strength of it I had begun to swagger a little, and +to think that, for all my youth, I was not to be despised. + +From the first day of the examinations, I had heard every one +speak with awe of the Professor of Latin, who appeared to be some +sort of a wild beast who battened on the financial ruin of young +men (of those, that is to say, who paid their own fees) and spoke +only in the Greek and Latin tongues. However, St. Jerome, who had +coached me in Latin, spoke encouragingly, and I myself thought +that, since I could translate Cicero and certain parts of Horace +without the aid of a lexicon, I should do no worse than the rest. +Yet things proved otherwise. All the morning the air had been +full of rumours concerning the tribulations of candidates who had +gone up before me: rumours of how one young fellow had been +accorded a nought, another one a single mark only, a third one +greeted with abuse and threatened with expulsion, and so forth. +Only Semenoff and the first gymnasium student had, as usual, gone +up quietly, and returned to their seats with five marks credited +to their names. Already I felt a prescience of disaster when +Ikonin and myself found ourselves summoned to the little table at +which the terrible professor sat in solitary grandeur. + +The terrible professor turned out to be a little thin, bilious- +looking man with hair long and greasy and a face expressive of +extraordinary sullenness. Handing Ikonin a copy of Cicero's +Orations, he bid him translate. To my great astonishment Ikonin +not only read off some of the Latin, but even managed to construe +a few lines to the professor's prompting. At the same time, +conscious of my superiority over such a feeble companion, I could +not help smiling a little, and even looking rather contemptuous, +when it came to a question of analysis, and Ikonin, as on +previous occasions, plunged into a silence which promised never +to end. I had hoped to please the professor by that knowing, +slightly sarcastic smile of mine, but, as a matter of fact, I +contrived to do quite the contrary. + +"Evidently you know better than he, since you are laughing," he +said to me in bad Russian. "Well, we shall see. Tell me the +answer, then." + +Later I learnt that the professor was Ikonin's guardian, and that +Ikonin actually lived with him. I lost no time in answering the +question in syntax which had been put to Ikonin, but the +professor only pulled a long face and turned away from me. + +"Well, your turn will come presently, and then we shall see how +much you know," he remarked, without looking at me, but +proceeding to explain to Ikonin the point on which he had +questioned him. + +"That will do," he added, and I saw him put down four marks to +Ikonin in his register. "Come!" I thought to myself. "He cannot +be so strict after all." + +When Ikonin had taken his departure the professor spent fully +five minutes--five minutes which seemed to me five hours--in +setting his books and tickets in order, in blowing his nose, in +adjusting and sprawling about on his chair, in gazing down the +hall, and in looking here, there, and everywhere--in doing +everything, in fact, except once letting his eye rest upon me. +Yet even that amount of dissimulation did not seem to satisfy +him, for he next opened a book, and pretended to read it, for all +the world as though I were not there at all. I moved a little +nearer him, and gave a cough. + +"Ah, yes! You too, of course! Well, translate me something," he +remarked, handing me a book of some kind. "But no; you had better +take this," and, turning over the leaves of a Horace, he +indicated to me a passage which I should never have imagined +possible of translation. + +"I have not prepared this," I said. + +"Oh! Then you only wish to answer things which you have got by +heart, do you? Indeed? No, no; translate me that." + +I started to grope for the meaning of the passage, but each +questioning look which I threw at the professor was met by a +shake of the head, a profound sigh, and an exclamation of "No, +no!" Finally he banged the book to with such a snap that he +caught his finger between the covers. Angrily releasing it, he +handed me a ticket containing questions in grammar, and, flinging +himself back in his chair, maintained a menacing silence. I +should have tried to answer the questions had not the expression +of his face so clogged my tongue that nothing seemed to come from +it right. + +"No, no! That's not it at all!" he suddenly exclaimed in his +horrible accent as he altered his posture to one of leaning +forward upon the table and playing with the gold signet-ring +which was nearly slipping from the little finger of his left +hand. "That is not the way to prepare for serious study, my good +sir. Fellows like yourself think that, once they have a gown and +a blue collar to their backs, they have reached the summit of all +things and become students. No, no, my dear sir. A subject needs +to be studied FUNDAMENTALLY," and so on, and so on. + +During this speech (which was uttered with a clipped sort of +intonation) I went on staring dully at his lowered eyelids. +Beginning with a fear lest I should lose my place as third on the +list, I went on to fear lest I should pass at all. Next, these +feelings became reinforced by a sense of injustice, injured self- +respect, and unmerited humiliation, while the contempt which I +felt for the professor as some one not quite (according to my +ideas) "comme il faut"--a fact which I deduced from the +shortness, strength, and roundness of his nails--flared up in me +more and more and turned all my other feelings to sheer +animosity. Happening, presently, to glance at me, and to note my +quivering lips and tear-filled eyes, he seemed to interpret my +agitation as a desire to be accorded my marks and dismissed: +wherefore, with an air of relenting, he said (in the presence of +another professor who had just approached): + +"Very well; I will accord you a 'pass'" (which signified two +marks), "although you do not deserve it. I do so simply out of +consideration for your youth, and in the hope that, when you +begin your University career, you will learn to be less light- +minded." + +The concluding phrase, uttered in the hearing of the other +professor (who at once turned his eyes upon me, as though +remarking, "There! You see, young man!") completed my +discomfiture. For a moment, a mist swam before my eyes--a mist in +which the terrible professor seemed to be far away, as he sat at +his table while for an instant a wild idea danced through my +brain. "What if I DID do such a thing?" I thought to myself. +"What would come of it?" However, I did not do the thing in +question, but, on the contrary, made a bow of peculiar reverence +to each of the professors, and with a slight smile on my face-- +presumably the same smile as that with which I had derided +Ikonin--turned away from the table. + +This piece of unfairness affected me so powerfully at the time +that, had I been a free agent, I should have attended for no more +examinations. My ambition was gone (since now I could not +possibly be third), and I therefore let the other examinations +pass without any exertion, or even agitation, on my part. In the +general list I still stood fourth, but that failed to interest +me, since I had reasoned things out to myself, and come to the +conclusion that to try for first place was stupid--even "bad +form:" that, in fact, it was better to pass neither very well nor +very badly, as Woloda had done. This attitude I decided to +maintain throughout the whole of my University career, +notwithstanding that it was the first point on which my opinion +had differed from that of my friend Dimitri. + +Yet, to tell the truth, my thoughts were already turning towards +a uniform, a "mortar-board," and the possession of a drozhki of +my own, a room of my own, and, above all, freedom of my own. And +certainly the prospect had its charm. + + +XIII + +I BECOME GROWN-UP + +When, on May 8th, I returned home from the final, the divinity, +examination, I found my acquaintance, the foreman from +Rozonoff's, awaiting me. He had called once before to fit me for +my gown, as well as for a tunic of glossy black cloth (the lapels +of which were, on that occasion, only sketched in chalk), but to- +day he had come to bring me the clothes in their finished state, +with their gilt buttons wrapped in tissue paper. + +Donning the garments, and finding them splendid (notwithstanding +that St. Jerome assured me that the back of the tunic wrinkled +badly), I went downstairs with a complacent smile which I was +powerless to banish from my face, and sought Woloda, trying the +while to affect unconsciousness of the admiring looks of the +servants, who came darting out of the hall and corridor to gaze +upon me with ravished eyes. Gabriel, the butler, overtook me in +the salle, and, after congratulating me with much empressement, +handed me, according to instructions from my father, four bank- +notes, as well as informed me that Papa had also given orders +that, from that day forth, the groom Kuzma, the phaeton, and the +bay horse Krassavchik were to be entirely at my disposal. I was +so overjoyed at this not altogether expected good-fortune that I +could no longer feign indifference in Gabriel's presence, but, +flustered and panting, said the first thing which came into my +head ("Krassavchik is a splendid trotter," I think it was). Then, +catching sight of the various heads protruding from the doors of +the hall and corridor, I felt that I could bear no more, and set +off running at full speed across the salle, dressed as I was in +the new tunic, with its shining gilt buttons. Just as I burst +into Woloda's room, I heard behind me the voices of Dubkoff and +Nechludoff, who had come to congratulate me, as well as to +propose a dinner somewhere and the drinking of much champagne in +honour of my matriculation. Dimitri informed me that, though he +did not care for champagne, he would nevertheless join us that +evening and drink my health, while Dubkoff remarked that I looked +almost like a colonel, and Woloda omitted to congratulate me at +all, merely saying in an acid way that he supposed we should now-- +i.e. in two days time--be off into the country. The truth was +that Woloda, though pleased at my matriculation, did not +altogether like my becoming as grown-up as himself. St. Jerome, +who also joined us at this moment, said in a very pompous manner +that his duties were now ended, and that, although he did not +know whether they had been well done or ill, at least he had done +his best, and must depart to-morrow to his Count's. In replying +to their various remarks I could feel, in spite of myself, a +pleased, agreeable, faintly self-sufficient smile playing over my +countenance, as well as could remark that that smile, +communicated itself to those to whom I was speaking. + +So here was I without a tutor, yet with my own private drozhki, +my name printed on the list of students, a sword and belt of my +own, and a chance of an occasional salute from officials! In +short, I was grownup and, I suppose, happy. + +Finally, we arranged to go out and dine at five o'clock, but since +Woloda presently went off to Dubkoff's, and Dimitri disappeared +in his usual fashion (saying that there was something he MUST do +before dinner), I was left with two whole hours still at my +disposal. For a time I walked through the rooms of the house, and +looked at myself in all the mirrors--firstly with the tunic +buttoned, then with it unbuttoned, and lastly with only the top +button fastened. Each time it looked splendid. Eventually, though +anxious not to show any excess of delight, I found myself unable +to refrain from crossing over to the coach-house and stables to +gaze at Krassovchik, Kuzma, and the drozhki. Then I returned and +once more began my tour of the rooms, where I looked at myself in +all the mirrors as before, and counted my money over in my +pocket--my face smiling happily the while. Yet not an hour had +elapsed before I began to feel slightly ennuye--to feel a shade +of regret that no one was present to see me in my splendid +position. I began to long for life and movement, and so sent out +orders for the drozhki to be got ready, since I had made up my +mind to drive to the Kuznetski Bridge and make some purchases. + +In this connection I recalled how, after matriculating, Woloda +had gone and bought himself a lithograph of horses by Victor Adam +and some pipes and tobacco: wherefore I felt that I too must do +the same. Amid glances showered upon me from every side, and with +the sunlight reflected from my buttons, cap-badge, and sword, I +drove to the Kuznetski Bridge, where, halting at a Picture shop, +I entered it with my eyes looking to every side. It was not +precisely horses by Adam which I meant to buy, since I did not +wish to be accused of too closely imitating Woloda; wherefore, +out of shame for causing the obsequious shopmen such agitation as +I appeared to do, I made a hasty selection, and pitched upon a +water-colour of a woman's head which I saw displayed in the +window--price twenty roubles. Yet no sooner had I paid the twenty +roubles over the counter than my heart smote me for having put +two such beautifully dressed shop-assistants to so much trouble +for such a trifle. Moreover, I fancied that they were regarding +me with some disdain. Accordingly, in my desire to show them what +manner of man I was, I turned my attention to a silver trifle +which I saw displayed in a show-case, and, recognising that it +was a porte-crayon (price eighteen roubles), requested that it +should forthwith be wrapped in paper for me. Next, the money +paid, and the information acquired that splendid pipes and +tobacco were to be obtained in an adjacent emporium, I bowed to +the two shopmen politely, and issued into the street with the +picture under my arm. At the shop next door (which had painted on +its sign-board a negro smoking a cigar) I bought (likewise out of +a desire to imitate no one) some Turkish tobacco, a Stamboul +hookah, and two pipes. On coming out of the shop, I had just +entered the drozhki when I caught sight of Semenoff, who was +walking hurriedly along the pavement with his head bent down. +Vexed that he should not have recognised me, I called out to him +pretty loudly, "Hold on a minute!" and, whipping up the drozhki, +soon overtook him. + +"How do you do?" I said. + +"My respects to you," he replied, but without stopping. + +"Why are you not in your University uniform?" I next inquired. + +At this he stopped short with a frown, and parted his white teeth +as though the sun were hurting his eyes. The next moment, +however, he threw a glance of studied indifference at my drozhki +and uniform, and continued on his way. + +From the Kuznetski Bridge, I drove to a confectioner's in +Tverskaia Street, and, much as I should have liked it to be +supposed that it was the newspapers which most interested me, I +had no choice but to begin falling upon tartlet after tartlet. In +fact, for all my bashfulness before a gentleman who kept +regarding me with some curiosity from behind a newspaper, I ate +with great swiftness a tartlet of each of the eight different +sorts which the confectioner kept. + +On reaching home, I experienced a slight touch of stomach-ache, +but paid no attention to it, and set to work to inspect my +purchases. Of these, the picture so much displeased me that, +instead of having it framed and hung in my room, as Woloda had +done with his, I took pains to hide it behind a chest of drawers, +where no one could see it. Likewise, though I also found the +porte-crayon distasteful, I was able, as I laid it on my table, +to comfort myself with the thought that it was at least a SILVER +article--so much capital, as it were--and likely to be very +useful to a student. As for the smoking things, I decided to put +them into use at once, and try their capabilities. + +Unsealing the four packages, and carefully filling the Stamboul +pipe with some fine-cut, reddish-yellow Turkish tobacco, I +applied a hot cinder to it, and, taking the mouthpiece between my +first and second fingers (a position of the hand which greatly +caught my fancy), started to inhale the smoke. + +The smell of the tobacco seemed delightful, yet something burnt +my mouth and caught me by the breath. Nevertheless, I hardened my +heart, and continued to draw abundant fumes into my interior. +Then I tried blowing rings and retaining the smoke. Soon the room +became filled with blue vapours, while the pipe started to +crackle and the tobacco to fly out in sparks. Presently, also, I +began to feel a smarting in my mouth and a giddiness in my head. +Accordingly, I was on the point of stopping and going to look at +myself and my pipe in the mirror, when, to my surprise, I found +myself staggering about. The room was whirling round and round, +and as I peered into the mirror (which I reached only with some +difficulty) I perceived that my face was as white as a sheet. +Hardly had I thrown myself down upon a sofa when such nausea and +faintness swept over me that, making up my mind that the pipe had +proved my death, I expected every moment to expire. Terribly +frightened, I tried to call out for some one to come and help me, +and to send for the doctor. + +However, this panic of mine did not last long, for I soon +understood what the matter with me was, and remained lying on the +sofa with a racking headache and my limbs relaxed as I stared +dully at the stamp on the package of tobacco, the Pipe-tube +coiled on the floor, and the odds and ends of tobacco and +confectioner's tartlets which were littered about. "Truly," I +thought to myself in my dejection and disillusionment, "I cannot +be quite grown-up if I cannot smoke as other fellows do, and +should be fated never to hold a chibouk between my first and +second fingers, or to inhale and puff smoke through a flaxen +moustache!" + +When Dimitri called for me at five o'clock, he found me in this +unpleasant predicament. After drinking a glass of water, however, +I felt nearly recovered, and ready to go with him. + +"So much for your trying to smoke!" said he as he gazed at the +remnants of my debauch. "It is a silly thing to do, and waste of +money as well. I long ago promised myself never to smoke. But +come along; we have to call for Dubkoff." + +XIV + +HOW WOLODA AND DUBKOFF AMUSED THEMSELVES + +THE moment that Dimitri entered my room I perceived from his +face, manner of walking, and the signs which, in him, denoted +ill-humour--a blinking of the eyes and a grim holding of his head +to one side, as though to straighten his collar--that he was in +the coldly-correct frame of mind which was his when he felt +dissatisfied with himself. It was a frame of mind, too, which +always produced a chilling effect upon my feelings towards him. +Of late I had begun to observe and appraise my friend's character +a little more, but our friendship had in no way suffered from +that, since it was still too young and strong for me to be able +to look upon Dimitri as anything but perfect, no matter in what +light I regarded him. In him there were two personalities, both +of which I thought beautiful. One, which I loved devotedly, was +kind, mild, forgiving, gay, and conscious of being those various +things. When he was in this frame of mind his whole exterior, the +very tone of his voice, his every movement, appeared to say: "I +am kind and good-natured, and rejoice in being so, and every one +can see that I so rejoice." The other of his two personalities-- +one which I had only just begun to apprehend, and before the +majesty of which I bowed in spirit--was that of a man who was +cold, stern to himself and to others, proud, religious to the +point of fanaticism, and pedantically moral. At the present +moment he was, as I say, this second personality. + +With that frankness which constituted a necessary condition of +our relations I told him, as soon as we entered the drozhki, how +much it depressed and hurt me to see him, on this my fete-day in +a frame of mind so irksome and disagreeable to me. + +"What has upset you so?" I asked him. "Will you not tell me?" + +"My dear Nicolas," was his slow reply as he gave his head a +nervous twitch to one side and blinked his eyes, "since I have +given you my word never to conceal anything from you, you have no +reason to suspect me of secretiveness. One cannot always be in +exactly the same mood, and if I seem at all put out, that is all +there is to say about it." + +"What a marvellously open, honourable character his is!" I +thought to myself, and dropped the subject. + +We drove the rest of the way to Dubkoff's in silence. Dubkoff's +flat was an unusually fine one--or, at all events, so it seemed +to me. Everywhere were rugs, pictures, gardenias, striped +hangings, photographs, and curved settees, while on the walls +hung guns, pistols, pouches, and the mounted heads of wild +beasts. It was the appearance of this apartment which made me +aware whom, it was that Woloda had imitated in the scheme of his +own sitting-room. We found Dubkoff and Woloda engaged in cards, +while seated also at the table, and watching the game with close +attention, was a gentleman whom I did not know, but who appeared +to be of no great importance, judging by the modesty of his +attitude. Dubkoff himself was in a silk dressing-gown and soft +slippers, while Woloda--seated opposite him on a divan--was in his +shirtsleeves, as well as (to judge by his flushed face and the +impatient, cursory glance which he gave us for a second as he +looked up from the cards) much taken up with the game. On seeing +me, he reddened still more. + +"Well, it is for you to deal," he remarked to Dubkoff. In an +instant I divined that he did not altogether relish my becoming +acquainted with the fact that he gambled. Yet his expression had +nothing in it of confusion--only a look which seemed to me to say: +"Yes, I play cards, and if you are surprised at that, it is only +because you are so young. There is nothing wrong about it--it is +a necessity at our age." Yes, I at once divined and understood +that. + +Instead of dealing, however, Dubkoff rose and shook hands with +us; after which he bade us both be seated, and then offered us +pipes, which we declined. + +"Here is our DIPLOMAT, then--the hero of the day!" he said to me, +"Good Lord! how you look like a colonel!" + +"H-m!" I muttered in reply, though once more feeling a complacent +smile overspread my countenance. + +I stood in that awe of Dubkoff which a sixteen-year-old boy +naturally feels for a twenty-seven-year-old man of whom his +elders say that he is a very clever young man who can dance well +and speak French, and who, though secretly despising one's youth, +endeavours to conceal the fact. Yet, despite my respect for him, +I somehow found it difficult and uncomfortable, throughout my +acquaintanceship with him, to look him in the eyes, I have since +remarked that there are three kinds of men whom I cannot face +easily, namely those who are much better than myself, those who +are much worse, and those between whom and myself there is a +mutual determination not to mention some particular thing of +which we are both aware. Dubkoff may have been a much better +fellow than myself, or he may have been a much worse; but the +point was that he lied very frequently without recognising the +fact that I was aware of his doing so, yet had determined not to +mention it. + +"Let us play another round," said Woloda, hunching one shoulder +after the manner of Papa, and reshuffling the cards. + +"How persistent you are!" said Dubkoff. "We can play all we want +to afterwards. Well, one more round, then." + +During the play, I looked at their hands. Woloda's hands were +large and red, whilst in the crook of the thumb and the way in +which the other fingers curved themselves round the cards as he +held them they so exactly resembled Papa's that now and then I +could not help thinking that Woloda purposely held the cards thus +so as to look the more like a grownup. Yet the next moment, +looking at his face, I could see that he had not a thought in his +mind beyond the game. Dubkoff's hands, on the contrary, were +small, puffy, and inclined to clench themselves, as well as +extremely neat and small-fingered. They were just the kind of +hands which generally display rings, and which are most to be +seen on persons who are both inclined to use them and fond of +objets de vertu. + +Woloda must have lost, for the gentleman who was watching the +play remarked that Vladimir Petrovitch had terribly bad luck, +while Dubkoff reached for a note book, wrote something in it, and +then, showing Woloda what he had written, said: + +"Is that right?" + +"Yes." said Woloda, glancing with feigned carelessness at the +note book. "Now let us go." + +Woloda took Dubkoff, and I gave Dimitri a lift in my drozhki. + +"What were they playing at?" I inquired of Dimitri. + +"At piquet. It is a stupid game. In fact, all such games are +stupid." + +"And were they playing for much?" + +"No, not very much, but more than they ought to." + +"Do you ever play yourself?" + +"No; I swore never to do so; but Dubkoff will play with any one +he can get hold of." + +"He ought not to do that," I remarked. "So Woloda does not play +so well as he does?" + +"Perhaps Dubkoff ought not to, as you say, yet there is nothing +especially bad about it all. He likes playing, and plays well, +but he is a good fellow all the same." + +"I had no idea of this," I said. + +"We must not think ill of him," concluded Dimitri, "since he is a +simply splendid fellow. I like him very much, and always shall +like him, in spite of his weakness." + +For some reason or another the idea occurred to me that, just +BECAUSE Dimitri stuck up so stoutly for Dubkoff, he neither liked +nor respected him in reality, but was determined, out of +stubbornness and a desire not to be accused of inconstancy, never +to own to the fact. He was one of those people who love their +friends their life long, not so much because those friends remain +always dear to them, as because, having once--possibly +mistakenly--liked a person, they look upon it as dishonourable to +cease ever to do so. + +XV + +I AM FETED AT DINNER + +Dubkoff and Woloda knew every one at the restaurant by name, and +every one, from the waiters to the proprietor, paid them great +respect. No time was lost in allotting us a private room, where a +bottle of iced champagne-upon which I tried to look with as much +indifference as I could--stood ready waiting for us, and where we +were served with a most wonderful repast selected by Dubkoff from +the French menu. The meal went off most gaily and agreeably, +notwithstanding that Dubkoff, as usual, told us blood-curdling +tales of doubtful veracity (among others, a tale of how his +grandmother once shot dead three robbers who were attacking her-- +a recital at which I blushed, closed my eyes, and turned away +from the narrator), and that Woloda reddened visibly whenever I +opened my mouth to speak--which was the more uncalled for on his +part, seeing that never once, so far as I can remember, did I say +anything shameful. After we had been given champagne, every one +congratulated me, and I drank "hands across" with Dimitri and +Dubkoff, and wished them joy. Since, however, I did not know to +whom the bottle of champagne belonged (it was explained to me +later that it was common property), I considered that, in return, +I ought to treat my friends out of the money which I had never +ceased to finger in my pocket. Accordingly, I stealthily extracted +a ten-rouble note, and, beckoning the waiter to my side, handed +him the money, and told him in a whisper (yet not so softly but +that every one could hear me, seeing that every one was staring +at me in dead silence) to "bring, if you please, a half-bottle of +champagne." At this Woloda reddened again, and began to fidget so +violently, and to gaze upon myself and every one else with such a +distracted air, that I felt sure I had somehow put my foot in it. +However, the half-bottle came, and we drank it with great gusto. +After that, things went on merrily. Dubkoff continued his +unending fairy tales, while Woloda also told funny stories--and +told them well, too--in a way I should never have credited him: so +that our laughter rang long and loud. Their best efforts lay in +imitation, and in variants of a certain well-known saw. "Have you +ever been abroad?" one would say to the other, for instance. +"No," the one interrogated would reply, "but my brother plays the +fiddle." Such perfection had the pair attained in this species of +comic absurdity that they could answer any question by its means, +while they would also endeavour to unite two absolutely +unconnected matters without a previous question having been asked +at all, yet say everything with a perfectly serious face and +produce a most comic effect. I too began to try to be funny, but +as soon as ever I spoke they either looked at me askance or did +not look at me until I had finished: so that my anecdotes fell +flat. Yet, though Dubkoff always remarked, "Our DIPLOMAT is +lying, brother," I felt so exhilarated with the champagne and the +company of my elders that the remark scarcely touched me. Only +Dimitri, though he drank level with the rest of us, continued in +the same severe, serious frame of mind--a fact which put a +certain check upon the general hilarity. + +"Now, look here, gentlemen," said Dubkoff at last. "After dinner +we ought to take the DIPLOMAT in hand. How would it be for him to +go with us to see Auntie? There we could put him through his +paces." + +"Ah, but Nechludoff will not go there," objected Woloda. + +"O unbearable, insupportable man of quiet habits that you are!" +cried Dubkoff, turning to Dimitri. "Yet come with us, and you +shall see what an excellent lady my dear Auntie is." + +"I will neither go myself nor let him go," replied Dimitri. + +"Let whom go? The DIPLOMAT? Why, you yourself saw how he +brightened up at the very mention of Auntie." + +"It is not so much that I WILL NOT LET HIM go," continued +Dimitri, rising and beginning to pace the room without looking at +me, "as that I neither wish him nor advise him to go. He is not a +child now, and if he must go he can go alone--without you. Surely +you are ashamed of this, Dubkoff?--ashamed of always wanting +others to do all the wrong things that you yourself do?" + +"But what is there so very wrong in my inviting you all to come +and take a cup of tea with my Aunt?" said Dubkoff, with a wink at +Woloda. "If you don't like us going, it is your affair; yet we +are going all the same. Are you coming, Woloda?" + +"Yes, yes," assented Woloda. "We can go there, and then return to +my rooms and continue our piquet." + +"Do you want to go with them or not?" said Dimitri, approaching +me. + +"No," I replied, at the same time making room for him to sit down +beside me on the divan. "I did not wish to go in any case, and +since you advise me not to, nothing on earth will make me go now. +Yet," I added a moment later, "I cannot honestly say that I have +NO desire to go. All I say is that I am glad I am not going." + +"That is right," he said. "Live your own life, and do not dance +to any one's piping. That is the better way." + +This little tiff not only failed to mar our hilarity, but even +increased it. Dimitri suddenly reverted to the kindly mood which +I loved best--so great (as I afterwards remarked on more than one +occasion) was the influence which the consciousness of having +done a good deed exercised upon him. At the present moment the +source of his satisfaction was the fact that he had stopped my +expedition to "Auntie's." He grew extraordinarily gay, called for +another bottle of champagne (which was against his rules), +invited some one who was a perfect stranger into our room, plied +him with wine, sang "Gaudeamus igitur," requested every one to +join him in the chorus, and proposed that we should and rink at +the Sokolniki. [Mews.] + +"Let us enjoy ourselves to-night," he said with a laugh. "It is +in honour of his matriculation that you now see me getting drunk +for the first time in my life." + +Yet somehow this merriment sat ill upon him. He was like some +good-natured father or tutor who is pleased with his young +charges, and lets himself go for their amusement, yet at the same +time tries to show them that one can enjoy oneself decently and +in an honourable manner. However, his unexpected gaiety had an +infectious influence upon myself and my companions, and the more +so because each of us had now drunk about half a bottle of +champagne. + +It was in this pleasing frame of mind that I went out into the +main salon to smoke a cigarette which Dubkoff had given me. In +rising I noticed that my head seemed to swim a little, and that +my legs and arms retained their natural positions only when I +bent my thoughts determinedly upon them. At other moments my legs +would deviate from the straight line, and my arms describe +strange gestures. I concentrated my whole attention upon the +members in question, forced my hands first to raise themselves +and button my tunic, and then to smooth my hair (though they +ruffled my locks in doing so), and lastly commanded my legs to +march me to the door--a function which they duly performed, +though at one time with too much reluctance, and at another with +too much ABANDON (the left leg, in particular, coming to a halt +every moment on tiptoe). Some one called out to me, "Where are +you going to? They will bring you a cigar-light directly," but I +guessed the voice to be Woloda's, and, feeling satisfied, +somehow, that I had succeeded in divining the fact, merely smiled +airily in reply, and continued on my way. + +XVI + +THE QUARREL + +In the main salon I perceived sitting at a small table a short, +squat gentleman of the professional type. He had a red moustache, +and was engaged in eating something or another, while by his side +sat a tall, clean-shaven individual with whom he was carrying on +a conversation in French. Somehow the aspect of these two persons +displeased me; yet I decided, for all that, to light my cigarette +at the candelabrum which was standing before them. Looking from +side to side, to avoid meeting their gaze, I approached the +table, and applied my cigarette to the flame. When it was fairly +alight, I involuntarily threw a glance at the gentleman who was +eating, and found his grey eyes fixed upon me with an expression +of intense displeasure. Just as I was turning away his red +moustache moved a little, and he said in French: + +"I do not like people to smoke when I am dining, my good sir." + +I murmured something inaudible. + +"No, I do not like it at all," he went on sternly, and with a +glance at his clean-shaven companion, as though inviting him to +admire the way in which he was about to deal with me. "I do not +like it, my good sir, nor do I like people who have the impudence +to puff their smoke up one's very nose." + +By this time I had gathered that it was myself he was scolding, +and at first felt as though I had been altogether in the wrong, + +"I did not mean to inconvenience you," I said. + +"Well, if you did not suppose you were being impertinent, at +least I did! You are a cad, young sir!" he shouted in reply. + +"But what right have you to shout at me like that?" I exclaimed, +feeling that it was now HE that was insulting ME, and growing +angry accordingly. + +"This much right," he replied, "that I never allow myself to be +overlooked by any one, and that I always teach young fellows like +yourself their manners. What is your name, young sir, and where +do you live?" + +At this I felt so hurt that my teeth chattered, and I felt as +though I were choking. Yet all the while I was conscious of being +in the wrong, and so, instead of offering any further rudeness to +the offended one, humbly told him my name and address. + +"And MY name, young sir," he returned, "is Kolpikoff, and I will +trouble you to be more polite to me in future.--However, You will +hear from me again" ("vous aurez de mes nouvelles"--the +conversation had been carried on wholly in French), was his +concluding remark. + +To this I replied, "I shall be delighted," with an infusion of as +much hauteur as I could muster into my tone. Then, turning on my +heel, I returned with my cigarette--which had meanwhile gone out-- +to our own room. + +I said nothing, either to my brother or my friends, about what +had happened (and the more so because they were at that moment +engaged in a dispute of their own), but sat down in a corner to +think over the strange affair. The words, "You are a cad, young +sir," vexed me more and more the longer that they sounded in my +ears. My tipsiness was gone now, and, in considering my conduct +during the dispute, the uncomfortable thought came over me that I +had behaved like a coward. + +"Yet what right had he to attack me?" I reflected. "Why did he +not simply intimate to me that I was annoying him? After all, it +may have been he that was in the wrong. Why, too, when he called +me a young cad, did I not say to him, 'A cad, my good sir, is one +who takes offence'? Or why did I not simply tell him to hold his +tongue? That would have been the better course. Or why did I not +challenge him to a duel? No, I did none of those things, but +swallowed his insults like a wretched coward." + +Still the words, "You are a cad, young sir," kept sounding in my +ears with maddening iteration. "I cannot leave things as they +are," I at length decided as I rose to my feet with the fixed +intention of returning to the gentleman and saying something +outrageous to him--perhaps, also, of breaking the candelabrum +over his head if occasion offered. Yet, though I considered the +advisability of this last measure with some pleasure, it was not +without a good deal of trepidation that I re-entered the main +salon. As luck would have it, M. Kolpikoff was no longer there, +but only a waiter engaged in clearing the table. For a moment I +felt like telling the waiter the whole story, and explaining to +him my innocence in the matter, but for some reason or another I +thought better of it, and once more returned, in the same hazy +condition of mind, to our own room. + +"What has become of our DIPLOMAT?" Dubkoff was just saying. "Upon +him now hang the fortunes of Europe." + +"Oh, leave me alone," I said, turning moodily away. Then, as I +paced the room, something made me begin to think that Dubkoff was +not altogether a good fellow. "There is nothing very much to +admire in his eternal jokes and his nickname of 'DIPLOMAT,'" I +reflected. "All he thinks about is to win money from Woloda and +to go and see his 'Auntie.' There is nothing very nice in all +that. Besides, everything he says has a touch of blackguardism in +it, and he is forever trying to make people laugh. In my opinion +he is simply stupid when he is not absolutely a brute." I spent +about five minutes in these reflections, and felt my enmity +towards Dubkoff continually increasing. For his part, he took no +notice of me, and that angered me the more. I actually felt vexed +with Woloda and Dimitri because they went on talking to him. + +"I tell you what, gentlemen: the DIPLOMAT ought to be +christened," said Dubkoff suddenly, with a glance and a smile +which seemed to me derisive, and even treacherous. "Yet, 0 Lord, +what a poor specimen he is!" + +"You yourself ought to be christened, and you yourself are a +sorry specimen!" I retorted with an evil smile, and actually +forgetting to address him as "thou." [In Russian as in French, +the second person singular is the form of speech used between +intimate friends.] + +This reply evidently surprised Dubkoff, but he turned away good- +humouredly, and went on talking to Woloda and Dimitri. I tried to +edge myself into the conversation, but, since I felt that I could +not keep it up, I soon returned to my corner, and remained there +until we left. + +When the bill had been paid and wraps were being put on, Dubkoff +turned to Dimitri and said: "Whither are Orestes and Pedalion +going now? Home, I suppose, to talk about love. Well, let US go +and see my dear Auntie. That will be far more entertaining than +your sour company." + +"How dare you speak like that, and laugh at us?" I burst out as I +approached him with clenched fists. "How dare you laugh at +feelings which you do not understand? I will not have you do it! +Hold your tongue!" At this point I had to hold my own, for I did +not know what to say next, and was, moreover, out of breath with +excitement. At first Dubkoff was taken aback, but presently he +tried to laugh it off, and to take it as a joke. Finally I was +surprised to see him look crestfallen, and lower his eyes. + +"I NEVER laugh at you or your feelings. It is merely my way of +speaking," he said evasively. + +"Indeed?" I cried; yet the next moment I felt ashamed of myself +and sorry for him, since his flushed, downcast face had in it no +other expression than one of genuine pain. + +"What is the matter with you?" said Woloda and Dimitri +simultaneously. "No one was trying to insult you." + +"Yes, he DID try to insult me!" I replied. + +"What an extraordinary fellow your brother is!" said Dubkoff to +Woloda. At that moment he was passing out of the door, and could +not have heard what I said. Possibly I should have flung myself +after him and offered him further insult, had it not been that +just at that moment the waiter who had witnessed my encounter +with Kolpikoff handed me my greatcoat, and I at once quietened +down--merely making such a pretence of having had a difference +with Dimitri as was necessary to make my sudden appeasement +appear nothing extraordinary. Next day, when I met Dubkoff at +Woloda's, the quarrel was not raked up, yet he and I still +addressed each other as "you," and found it harder than ever to +look one another in the face. + +The remembrance of my scene with Kolpikoff--who, by the way, +never sent me "de ses nouvelles," either the following day or any +day afterwards--remained for years a keen and unpleasant memory. +Even so much as five years after it had happened I would begin +fidgeting and muttering to myself whenever I remembered the +unavenged insult, and was fain to comfort myself with the +satisfaction of recollecting the sort of young fellow I had shown +myself to be in my subsequent affair with Dubkoff. In fact, it +was only later still that I began to regard the matter in another +light, and both to recall with comic appreciation my passage of +arms with Kolpikoff, and to regret the undeserved affront which I +had offered my good friend Dubkoff. + +When, at a later hour on the evening of the dinner, I told +Dimitri of my affair with Kolpikoff, whose exterior I described +in detail, he was astounded. + +"That is the very man!" he cried. "Don't you know that this +precious Kolpikoff is a known scamp and sharper, as well as, +above all things, a coward, and that he was expelled from his +regiment by his brother officers because, having had his face +slapped, he would not fight? But how came you to let him get +away?" he added, with a kindly smile and glance. "Surely he could +not have said more to you than he did when he called you a cad?" + +"No," I admitted with a blush. + +"Well, it was not right, but there is no great harm done," said +Dimitri consolingly. + +Long afterwards, when thinking the matter over at leisure, I +suddenly came to the conclusion that it was quite possible that +Kolpikoff took the opportunity of vicariously wiping off upon me +the slap in the face which he had once received, just as I myself +took the opportunity of vicariously wiping off upon the innocent +Dubkoff the epithet "cad" which Kolpikoff had just applied to me. + +XVII + +I GET READY TO PAY SOME CALLS + +On awaking next morning my first thoughts were of the affair with +Kolpikoff. Once again I muttered to myself and stamped about the +room, but there was no help for it. To-day was the last day that +I was to spend in Moscow, and it was to be spent, by Papa's +orders, in my paying a round of calls which he had written out +for me on a piece of paper--his first solicitude on our account +being not so much for our morals or our education as for our due +observance of the convenances. On the piece of paper was written +in his swift, broken hand-writing: "(1) Prince Ivan Ivanovitch +WITHOUT FAIL; (2) the Iwins WITHOUT FAIL; (3) Prince Michael; (4) +the Princess Nechludoff and Madame Valakhina if you wish." Of +course I was also to call upon my guardian, upon the rector, and +upon the professors. + +These last-mentioned calls, however, Dimitri advised me not to +pay: saying that it was not only unnecessary to do so, but not +the thing. However, there were the other visits to be got +through. It was the first two on the list--those marked as to be +paid "WITHOUT FAIL"--that most alarmed me. Prince Ivan Ivanovitch +was a commander-in-chief, as well as old, wealthy, and a +bachelor. Consequently, I foresaw that vis-a-vis conversation +between him and myself--myself a sixteen-year-old student!--was +not likely to be interesting. As for the Iwins, they too were +rich--the father being a departmental official of high rank who +had only on one occasion called at our house during my +grandmother's time. Since her death, I had remarked that the +younger Iwin had fought shy of us, and seemed to give himself +airs. The elder of the pair, I had heard, had now finished his +course in jurisprudence, and gone to hold a post in St. +Petersburg, while his brother Sergius (the former object of my +worship) was also in St. Petersburg, as a great fat cadet in the +Corps of Pages. + +When I was a young man, not only did I dislike intercourse with +people who thought themselves above me, but such intercourse was, +for me, an unbearable torture, owing partly to my constant dread +of being snubbed, and partly to my straining every faculty of my +intellect to prove to such people my independence. Yet, even if I +failed to fulfil the latter part of my father's instructions, I +felt that I must carry out the former. I paced my room and eyed +my clothes ready disposed on chairs--the tunic, the sword, and +the cap. Just as I was about to set forth, old Grap called to +congratulate me, bringing with him Ilinka. Grap pere was a +Russianised German and an intolerably effusive, sycophantic old +man who was more often than not tipsy. As a rule, he visited us +only when he wanted to ask for something, and although Papa +sometimes entertained him in his study, old Grap never came to +dinner with us. With his subserviency and begging propensities +went such a faculty of good-humour and a power of making himself +at home that every one looked upon his attachment to us as a +great honour. For my part, however, I never liked him, and felt +ashamed when he was speaking. + +I was much put out by the arrival of these visitors, and made no +effort to conceal the fact. Upon Ilinka I had been so used to +look down, and he so used to recognise my right to do so, that it +displeased me to think that he was now as much a matriculated +student as myself. In some way he appeared to me to have made a +POINT of attaining that equality. I greeted the pair coldly, and, +without offering them any refreshment (since it went against the +grain to do so, and I thought they could ask for anything, if +they wanted it, without my first inviting them to state their +requirements), gave orders for the drozhki to be got ready. +Ilinka was a good-natured, extremely moral, and far from stupid +young fellow; yet, for all that, what people call a person of +moods. That is to say, for no apparent reason he was for ever in +some PRONOUNCED frame of mind--now lachrymose, now frivolous, now +touchy on the very smallest point. At the present moment he +appeared to be in the last-named mood. He kept looking from his +father to myself without speaking, except when directly +addressed, at which times he smiled the self-deprecatory, forced +smile under which he was accustomed to conceal his feelings, and +more especially that feeling of shame for his father which he +must have experienced in our house. + +"So, Nicolas Petrovitch," the old man said to me, following me +everywhere about the room as I went through the operation of +dressing, while all the while his fat fingers kept turning over +and over a silver snuff-box with which my grandmother had once +presented me, "as soon as ever I heard from my son that you had +passed your examinations so well (though of course your abilities +are well-known to everyone), I at once came to congratulate you, +my dear boy. Why, I have carried you on my shoulders before now, +and God knows that I love you as though you were my own son. My +Ilinka too has always been fond of you, and feels quite at home +with you." + +Meanwhile the said Ilinka remained sitting silently by the +window, apparently absorbed in contemplation of my three-cornered +cap, and every now and then angrily muttering something in an +undertone. + +"Now, I also wanted to ask you, Nicolas Petrovitch." His father +went on, "whether my son did well in the examinations? He tells +me that he is going to be in the same faculty as yourself, and +that therefore you will be able to keep an eye on him, and advise +him, and so on." + +"Oh, yes, I suppose he passed well," I replied, with a glance at +Ilinka, who, conscious of my gaze, reddened violently and ceased +to move his lips about. +"And might he spend the day with you?" was the father's next +request, which he made with a deprecatory smile, as though he +stood in actual awe of me, yet always keeping so close to me, +wherever I moved, that the fumes of the drink and tobacco in +which he had been indulging were constantly perceptible to my +nostrils. I felt greatly vexed at his placing me in such a false +position towards his son, as well as at his distracting my +attention from what was, to me, a highly important operation-- +namely, the operation of dressing; while, over and above all, I +was annoyed by the smell of liquor with which he followed me +about. Accordingly, I said very coldly that I could not have the +pleasure of Ilinka's company that day, since I should be out. + +"Ah! I suppose you are going to see your sister?" put in Ilinka +with a smile, but without looking at me. "Well, I too have +business to attend to." At this I felt even more put out, as well +as pricked with compunction; so, to soften my refusal a little, I +hastened to say that the reason why I should not be at home that +day was that I had to call upon the PRINCE Ivan Ivanovitch, the +PRINCESS Kornakoff, and the Monsieur Iwin who held such an +influential post, as well as, probably, to dine with the PRINCESS +Nechludoff (for I thought that, on learning what important folk I +was in the habit of mixing with, the Graps would no longer think +it worth while to pretend to me). However, just as they were +leaving, I invited Ilinka to come and see me another day; but he +only murmured something unintelligible, and it was plain that he +meant never to set foot in the house again. + +When they had departed, I set off on my round of calls. Woloda, +whom I had asked that morning to come with me, in order that I +might not feel quite so shy as when altogether alone, had +declined on the ground that for two brothers to be seen driving +in one drozhki would appear so horribly "proper." + +XVIII + +THE VALAKHIN FAMILY + +Accordingly I set off alone. My first call on the route lay at +the Valakhin mansion. It was now three years since I had seen +Sonetchka, and my love for her had long become a thing of the +past, yet there still lingered in my heart a sort of clear, +touching recollection of our bygone childish affection. At +intervals, also, during those three years, I had found myself +recalling her memory with such force and vividness that I had +actually shed tears, and imagined myself to be in love with her +again, but those occasions had not lasted more than a few minutes +at a time, and had been long in recurring. + +I knew that Sonetchka and her mother had been abroad--that, in +fact, they had been so for the last two years. Also, I had heard +that they had been in a carriage accident, and that Sonetchka's +face had been so badly cut with the broken glass that her beauty +was marred. As I drove to their house, I kept recalling the old +Sonetchka to my mind, and wondering what she would look like when +I met her. Somehow I imagined that, after her two years' sojourn +abroad, she would look very tall, with a beautiful waist, and, +though sedate and imposing, extremely attractive. Somehow, also, +my imagination refused to picture her with her face disfigured +with scars, but, on the contrary, since I had read somewhere of a +lover who remained true to his adored one in spite of her +disfigurement with smallpox, strove to imagine that I was in love +with Sonetchka, for the purpose of priding myself on holding to +my troth in spite of her scars--Yet, as a matter of fact, I was +not really in love with her during that drive, but having once +stirred up in myself old MEMORIES of love, felt PREPARED to fall +into that condition, and the more so because, of late, my +conscience had often been pricking me for having discarded so +many of my old flames. + +The Valakhins lived in a neat little wooden mansion approached by +a courtyard. I gained admittance by ringing a bell (then a rarity +in Moscow), and was received by a mincing, smartly-attired page. +He either could not or made no attempt to inform me whether there +was any one at home, but, leaving me alone in the dark hall, ran +off down a still darker corridor. For a long time I waited in +solitude in this gloomy place, out of which, in addition to the +front door and the corridor, there only opened a door which at +the moment was closed. Rather surprised at the dismal appearance +of the house, I came to the conclusion that the reason was that +its inmates were still abroad. After five minutes, however, the +door leading into the salon was opened by the page boy, who then +conducted me into a neat, but not richly furnished, drawing-room, +where presently I was joined by Sonetchka. + +She was now seventeen years old, and very small and thin, as well +as of an unhealthy pallor of face. No scars at all were visible, +however, and the beautiful, prominent eyes and bright, cheerful +smile were the same as I had known and loved in my childhood. I +had not expected her to look at all like this, and therefore +could not at once lavish upon her the sentiment which I had been +preparing on the way. She gave me her hand in the English fashion +(which was then as much a novelty as a door-bell), and, bestowing +upon mine a frank squeeze, sat down on the sofa by my side. + +"Ah! how glad I am to see you, my dear Nicolas!" she said as she +looked me in the face with an expression of pleasure so sincere +that in the words "my dear Nicolas" I caught the purely friendly +rather than the patronising note. To my surprise she seemed to me +simpler, kinder, and more sisterly after her foreign tour than +she had been before it. True, I could now see that she had two +small scars between her nose and temples, but her wonderful eyes +and smile fitted in exactly with my recollections, and shone as +of old. + +"But how greatly you have changed!" she went on. "You are quite +grown-up now. And I-I-well, what do you think of me?" + +"I should never have known you," I replied, despite the fact that +at the moment I was thinking that I should have known her +anywhere and always. + +"Why? Am I grown so ugly?" she inquired with a movement of her +head. + +"Oh, no, decidedly not!" I hastened to reply. "But you have grown +taller and older. As for being uglier, why, you are even-- + +"Yes, yes; never mind. Do you remember our dances and games, and +St. Jerome, and Madame Dorat?" (As a matter of fact, I could not +recollect any Madame Dorat, but saw that Sonetchka was being led +away by the joy of her childish recollections, and mixing them up +a little). "Ah! what a lovely time it was!" she went on--and once +more there shone before me the same eyes and smile as I had +always carried in my memory. While she had been speaking, I had +been thinking over my position at the present moment, and had +come to the conclusion that I was in love with her. The instant, +however, that I arrived at that result my careless, happy mood +vanished, a mist seemed to arise before me which concealed even +her eyes and smile, and, blushing hotly, I became tongue-tied and +ill-at-ease. + +"But times are different now," she went on with a sigh and a +little lifting of her eyebrows. "Everything seems worse than it +used to be, and ourselves too. Is it not so, Nicolas?" + +I could return her no answer, but sat silently looking at her. + +"Where are those Iwins and Kornakoffs now? Do you remember them?" +she continued, looking, I think, with some curiosity at my +blushing, downcast countenance. "What splendid times we used to +have!" + +Still I could not answer her. + +The next moment, I was relieved from this awkward position by the +entry of old Madame Valakhin into the room. Rising, I bowed, and +straightway recovered my faculty of speech. On the other hand, an +extraordinary change now took place in Sonetchka. All her gaiety +and bonhomie disappeared, her smile became quite a different one, +and, except for the point of her shortness of stature, she became +just the lady from abroad whom I had expected to find in her. Yet +for this change there was no apparent reason, since her mother +smiled every whit as pleasantly, and expressed in her every +movement just the same benignity, as of old. Seating herself in +her arm-chair, the old lady signed to me to come and sit beside +her; after which she said something to her daughter in English, +and Sonetchka left the room--a fact which still further helped to +relieve me. Madame then inquired after my father and brother, and +passed on to speak of her great bereavement--the loss of her +husband. Presently, however, she seemed to become sensible of the +fact that I was not helping much in the conversation, for she +gave me a look as much as to say: "If, now, my dear boy, you were +to get up, to take your leave, and to depart, it would be well." +But a curious circumstance had overtaken me. While she had been +speaking of her bereavement, I had recalled to myself, not only +the fact that I was in love, but the probability that the mother +knew of it: whereupon such a fit of bashfulness had come upon me +that I felt powerless to put any member of my body to its +legitimate use. I knew that if I were to rise and walk I should +have to think where to plant each foot, what to do with my head, +what with my hands, and so on. In a word, I foresaw that I should +be very much as I had been on the night when I partook too freely +of champagne, and therefore, since I felt uncertain of being able +to manage myself if I DID rise, I ended by feeling UNABLE to +rise. Meanwhile, I should say, Sonetchka had returned to the room +with her work, and seated herself in a far corner--a corner +whence, as I was nevertheless sensible, she could observe me. +Madame must have felt some surprise as she gazed at my crimson +face and noted my complete immobility, but I decided that it was +better to continue sitting in that absurd position than to risk +something unpleasant by getting up and walking. Thus I sat on and +on, in the hope that some unforeseen chance would deliver me from +my predicament. That unforeseen chance at length presented itself +in the person of an unforeseen young man, who entered the room +with an air of being one of the household, and bowed to me +politely as he did so: whereupon Madame rose, excused herself to +me for having to speak with her "homme d'affaires," and finally +gave me a glance which said: "Well, if you DO mean to go on +sitting there for ever, at least I can't drive you away." +Accordingly, with a great effort I also rose, but, finding it +impossible to do any leave-taking, moved away towards the door, +followed by the pitying glances of mother and daughter. All at +once I stumbled over a chair, although it was lying quite out of +my route: the reason for my stumbling being that my whole +attention was centred upon not tripping over the carpet. Driving +through the fresh air, however--where at first I muttered and +fidgeted about so much that Kuzma, my coachman, asked me what was +the matter--I soon found this feeling pass away, and began to +meditate quietly concerning my love for Sonetchka and her +relations with her mother, which had appeared to me rather +strange. When, afterwards, I told my father that mother and +daughter had not seemed on the best of terms with one another, he +said: + +"Yes, Madame leads the poor girl an awful life with her meanness. +Yet," added my father with a greater display of feeling than a +man might naturally conceive for a mere relative, "she used to be +such an original, dear, charming woman! I cannot think what has +made her change so much. By the way, you didn't notice a +secretary fellow about, did you? Fancy a Russian lady having an +affaire with a secretary!" + +"Yes, I saw him," I replied. + +"And was he at least good-looking?" + +"No, not at all." + +"It is extraordinary!" concluded Papa, with a cough and an +irritable hoist of his shoulder. + +"Well, I am in love!" was my secret thought to myself as I drove +along in my drozhki. + +XIX + +THE KORNAKOFFS + +MY second call on the route lay at the Kornakoffs', who lived on +the first floor of a large mansion facing the Arbat. The +staircase of the building looked extremely neat and orderly, yet +in no way luxurious--being lined only with drugget pinned down +with highly-polished brass rods. Nowhere were there any flowers +or mirrors to be seen. The salon, too, with its polished floor, +which I traversed on my way to the drawing-room, was decorated in +the same cold, severe, unostentatious style. Everything in it +looked bright and solid, but not new, and pictures, flower- +stands, and articles of bric-a-brac were wholly absent. In the +drawing-room I found some of the young princesses seated, but +seated with the sort of correct, "company" air about them which +gave one the impression that they sat like that only when guests +were expected. + +"Mamma will be here presently," the eldest of them said to me as +she seated herself by my side. For the next quarter of an hour, +this young lady entertained me with such an easy flow of small- +talk that the conversation never flagged a moment. Yet somehow +she made so patent the fact that she was just entertaining me +that I felt not altogether pleased. Amongst other things, she +told me that their brother Stephen (whom they called Etienne, and +who had been two years at the College of Cadets) had now received +his commission. Whenever she spoke of him, and more particularly +when she told me that he had flouted his mother's wishes by +entering the Hussars, she assumed a nervous air, and immediately +her sisters, sitting there in silence, also assumed a nervous +air. When, again, she spoke of my grandmother's death, she +assumed a MOURNFUL air, and immediately the others all did the +same. Finally, when she recalled how I had once struck St. Jerome +and been expelled from the room, she laughed and showed her bad +teeth, and immediately all the other princesses laughed and +showed their bad teeth too. + +Next, the Princess-Mother herself entered--a little dried-up +woman, with a wandering glance and a habit of always looking at +somebody else when she was addressing one. Taking my hand, she +raised her own to my lips for me to kiss it--which otherwise, not +supposing it to be necessary, I should not have done. + +"How pleased I am to see you!" she said with her usual clearness +of articulation as she gazed at her daughters. "And how like your +mother you look! Does he not, Lise?" + +Lise assented, though I knew for a fact that I did not resemble +my mother in the least. + +"And what a grown-up you have become! My Etienne, you will +remember, is your second cousin. No, not second cousin--what is +it, Lise? My mother was Barbara Dimitrievna, daughter of Dimitri +Nicolaevitch, and your grandmother was Natalia Nicolaevna." + +"Then he is our THIRD cousin, Mamma," said the eldest girl. + +"Oh, how you always confuse me!" was her mother's angry reply. +"Not third cousin, but COUSIN GERMAN--that is your relationship +to Etienne. He is an officer now. Did you know it? It is not well +that he should have his own way too much. You young men need +keeping in hand, or--! Well, you are not vexed because your old +aunt tells you the plain truth? I always kept Etienne strictly in +hand, for I found it necessary to do so." + +"Yes, that is how our relationship stands," she went on. "Prince +Ivan Ivanovitch is my uncle, and your late mother's uncle also. +Consequently I must have been your mother's first cousin--no, +second cousin. Yes, that is it. Tell me, have you been to call on +Prince Ivan yet?" + +I said no, but that I was just going to. + +"Ah, is it possible?" she cried. "Why, you ought to have paid him +the first call of all! Surely you know that he stands to you in +the position of a father? He has no children of his own, and his +only heirs are yourself and my children. You ought to pay him all +possible deference, both because of his age, and because of his +position in the world, and because of everything else. I know +that you young fellows of the present day think nothing of +relationships and are not fond of old men, yet do you listen to +me, your old aunt, for I am fond of you, and was fond of your +mother, and had a great--a very great-liking and respect for your +grandmother. You must not fail to call upon him on any account." + +I said that I would certainly go, and since my present call +seemed to me to have lasted long enough, I rose, and was about to +depart, but she restrained me. + +"No, wait a minute," she cried. "Where is your father, Lise? Go +and tell him to come here. He will be so glad to see you," she +added, turning to me. + +Two minutes later Prince Michael entered. He was a short, thick- +set gentleman, very slovenly dressed and ill-shaven, yet wearing +such an air of indifference that he looked almost a fool. He was +not in the least glad to see me--at all events he did not intimate +that he was; but the Princess (who appeared to stand in +considerable awe of him) hastened to say: + +"Is not Woldemar here" (she seemed to have forgotten my name) +"exactly like his mother?" and she gave her husband a glance +which forced him to guess what she wanted. Accordingly he +approached me with his usual passionless, half-discontented +expression, and held out to me an unshaven cheek to kiss. + +"Why, you are not dressed yet, though you have to go out soon!" +was the Princess's next remark to him in the angry tone which she +habitually employed in conversation with her domestics. "It will +only mean your offending some one again, and trying to set people +against you." + +"In a moment, in a moment, mother," said Prince Michael, and +departed. I also made my bows and departed. + +This was the first time I had heard of our being related to +Prince Ivan Ivanovitch, and the news struck me unpleasantly. + +XX + +THE IWINS + +As for the prospect of my call upon the Prince, it seemed even +more unpleasant. However, the order of my route took me first to +the Iwins, who lived in a large and splendid mansion in Tverskaia +Street. It was not without some nervousness that I entered the +great portico where a Swiss major-domo stood armed with his staff +of office. + +To my inquiry as to whether any one was at home he replied: "Whom +do you wish to see, sir? The General's son is within." + +"And the General himself?" I asked with forced assurance. + +"I must report to him your business first. What may it be, sir?" +said the major-domo as he rang a bell. Immediately the gaitered +legs of a footman showed themselves on the staircase above; +whereupon I was seized with such a fit of nervousness that I +hastily bid the lacquey say nothing about my presence to the +General, since I would first see his son. By the time I had +reached the top of the long staircase, I seemed to have grown +extremely small (metaphorically, I mean, not actually), and had +very much the same feeling within me as had possessed my soul +when my drozhki drew up to the great portico, namely, a feeling +as though drozhki, horse, and coachman had all of them grown +extremely small too. I found the General's son lying asleep on a +sofa, with an open book before him. His tutor, Monsieur Frost, +under whose care he still pursued his studies at home, had +entered behind me with a sort of boyish tread, and now awoke his +pupil. Iwin evinced no particular pleasure at seeing me, while I +also seemed to notice that, while talking to me, he kept looking +at my eyebrows. Although he was perfectly polite, I conceived +that he was "entertaining" me much as the Princess Valakhin had +done, and that he not only felt no particular liking for me, but +even that he considered my acquaintance in no way necessary to +one who possessed his own circle of friends. All this arose out +of the idea that he was regarding my eyebrows. In short, his +bearing towards me appeared to be (as I recognised with an +awkward sensation) very much the same as my own towards Ilinka +Grap. I began to feel irritated, and to interpret every fleeting +glance which he cast at Monsieur Frost as a mute inquiry: "Why +has this fellow come to see me?" + +After some conversation he remarked that his father and mother +were at home. Would I not like to visit them too? + +"First I will go and dress myself," he added as he departed to +another room, notwithstanding that he had seemed to be perfectly +well dressed (in a new frockcoat and white waistcoat) in the +present one. A few minutes later he reappeared in his University +uniform, buttoned up to the chin, and we went downstairs +together. The reception rooms through which we passed were lofty +and of great size, and seemed to be richly furnished with marble +and gilt ornaments, chintz-covered settees, and a number of +mirrors. Presently Madame Iwin met us, and we went into a little +room behind the drawing-room, where, welcoming me in very +friendly fashion, she seated herself by my side, and began to +inquire after my relations. + +Closer acquaintance with Madame (whom I had seen only twice +before, and that but for a moment on each occasion) impressed me +favourably. She was tall, thin, and very pale, and looked as +though she suffered from chronic depression and fatigue. Yet, +though her smile was a sad one, it was very kind, and her large, +mournful eyes, with a slight cast in their vision, added to the +pathos and attractiveness of her expression. Her attitude, while +not precisely that of a hunchback, made her whole form droop, +while her every movement expressed languor. Likewise, though her +speech was deliberate, the timbre of her voice, and the manner in +which she lisped her r's and l's, were very pleasing to the ear. +Finally, she did not "ENTERTAIN" me. Unfortunately, the answers +which I returned to her questions concerning my relations seemed +to afford her a painful interest, and to remind her of happier +days: with the result that when, presently, her son left the +room, she gazed at me in silence for a moment, and then burst +into tears. As I sat there in mute bewilderment, I could not +conceive what I had said to bring this about. At first I felt +sorry for her as she sat there weeping with downcast eyes. Next +I began to think to myself: "Ought I not to try and comfort her, +and how ought that to be done?" Finally, I began to feel vexed +with her for placing me in such an awkward position. "Surely my +appearance is not so moving as all that?" I reflected. "Or is she +merely acting like this to see what I shall do under the +circumstances?" + +"Yet it would not do for me to go," I continued to myself, for +that would look too much as though I were fleeing to escape her +tears." Accordingly I began fidgeting about on my seat, in order +to remind her of my presence. + +"Oh, how foolish of me!" at length she said, as she gazed at me +for a moment and tried to smile. "There are days when one weeps +for no reason whatever." She felt about for her handkerchief, and +then burst out weeping more violently than before. + +"Oh dear! How silly of me to be for ever crying like this! Yet I +was so fond of your mother! We were such friends! We-we--" + +At this point she found her handkerchief, and, burying her face +in it, went on crying. Once more I found myself in the same +protracted dilemma. Though vexed, I felt sorry for her, since her +tears appeared to be genuine--even though I also had an idea that +it was not so much for my mother that she was weeping as for the +fact that she was unhappy, and had known happier days. How it +would all have ended I do not know, had not her son reappeared +and said that his father desired to see her. Thereupon she rose, +and was just about to leave the room, when the General himself +entered. He was a small, grizzled, thick-set man, with bushy +black eyebrows, a grey, close-cropped head, and a very stern, +haughty expression of countenance. + +I rose and bowed to him, but the General (who was wearing three +stars on his green frockcoat) not only made no response to my +salutation, but scarcely even looked at me; so that all at once I +felt as though I were not a human being at all, but only some +negligible object such as a settee or window; or, if I were a +human being, as though I were quite indistinguishable from such a +negligible object. + +"Then you have not yet written to the Countess, my dear?" he said +to his wife in French, and with an imperturbable, yet determined, +expression on his countenance. + +"Good-bye, Monsieur Irtenieff," Madame said to me, in her turn, +as she made a proud gesture with her head and looked at my +eyebrows just as her son had done. I bowed to her, and again to +her husband, but my second salutation made no more impression +upon him than if a window had just been opened or closed. +Nevertheless the younger Iwin accompanied me to the door, and on +the way told me that he was to go to St. Petersburg University, +since his father had been appointed to a post in that city (and +young Iwin named a very high office in the service). + +"Well, his Papa may do whatsoever he likes," I muttered to myself +as I climbed into the drozhki, "but at all events I will never +set foot in that house again. His wife weeps and looks at me as +though I were the embodiment of woe, while that old pig of a +General does not even give me a bow. However, I will get even +with him some day." How I meant to do that I do not know, but my +words nevertheless came true. + +Afterwards, I frequently found it necessary to remember the advice +of my father when he said that I must cultivate the +acquaintanceship of the Iwins, and not expect a man in the +position of General Iwin to pay any attention to a boy like +myself. But I had figured in that position long enough. + +XXI + +PRINCE IVAN IVANOVITCH + +"Now for the last call--the visit to Nikitskaia Street," I said +to Kuzma, and we started for Prince Ivan Ivanovitch's mansion. + +Towards the end, a round of calls usually brings one a certain +amount of self-assurance: consequently I was approaching the +Prince's abode in quite a tranquil frame of mind, when suddenly I +remembered the Princess Kornakoff's words that I was his heir, +and at the same moment caught sight of two carriages waiting at +the portico. Instantly, my former nervousness returned. + +Both the old major-domo who opened the door to me, and the +footman who took my coat, and the two male and three female +visitors whom I found in the drawing-room, and, most of all, +Prince Ivan Ivanovitch himself (whom I found clad in a "company" +frockcoat and seated on a sofa) seemed to look at me as at an +HEIR, and so to eye me with ill-will. Yet the Prince was very +gracious and, after kissing me (that is to say, after pressing +his cold, dry, flabby lips to my cheek for a second), asked me +about my plans and pursuits, jested with me, inquired whether I +still wrote verses of the kind which I used to indite in honour +of my grandmother's birthdays, and invited me to dine with him +that day. Nevertheless, in proportion as he grew the kinder, the +more did I feel persuaded that his civility was only intended to +conceal from me the fact that he disliked the idea of my being +his heir. He had a custom (due to his false teeth, of which his +mouth possessed a complete set) of raising his upper lip a little +as he spoke, and producing a slight whistling sound from it; and +whenever, on the present occasion, he did so it seemed to me that +he was saying to himself: "A boy, a boy--I know it! And my heir, +too--my heir!" + +When we were children, we had been used to calling the Prince +"dear Uncle;" but now, in my capacity of heir, I could not bring +my tongue to the phrase, while to say "Your Highness," as did one +of the other visitors, seemed derogatory to my self-esteem. +Consequently, never once during that visit did I call him anything +at all. The personage, however, who most disturbed me was the old +Princess who shared with me the position of prospective +inheritor, and who lived in the Prince's house. While seated +beside her at dinner, I felt firmly persuaded that the reason why +she would not speak to me was that she disliked me for being her +co-heir, and that the Prince, for his part, paid no attention to +our side of the table for the reason that the Princess and myself +hoped to succeed him, and so were alike distasteful in his sight. + +"You cannot think how I hated it all!" I said to Dimitrieff the +same evening, in a desire to make a parade of disliking the +notion of being an heir (somehow I thought it the thing to do). +"You cannot think how I loathed the whole two hours that I spent +there!--Yet he is a fine-looking old fellow, and was very kind to +me," I added--wishing, among other things, to disabuse my friend +of any possible idea that my loathing had arisen out of the fact +that I had felt so small. "It is only the idea that people may be +classing me with the Princess who lives with him, and who licks +the dust off his boots. He is a wonderful old man, and good and +considerate to everybody, but it is awful to see how he treats +the Princess. Money is a detestable thing, and ruins all human +relations. + +"Do you know, I think it would be far the best thing for me to +have an open explanation with the Prince," I went on; "to tell +him that I respect him as a man, but think nothing of being his +heir, and that I desire him to leave me nothing, since that is +the only condition on which I can, in future, visit his house." + +Instead of bursting out laughing when I said this, Dimitri +pondered awhile in silence, and then answered: + +"You are wrong. Either you ought to refrain from supposing that +people may be classing you with this Princess of whom you speak, +or, if you DO suppose such a thing, you ought to suppose further +that people are thinking what you yourself know quite well-- +namely, that such thoughts are so utterly foreign to your nature +that you despise them and would never make them a basis for +action. Suppose, however, that people DO suppose you to suppose +such a thing--Well, to sum up," he added, feeling that he was +getting a little mixed in his pronouncements, "you had much +better not suppose anything of the kind." + +My friend was perfectly right, though it was not until long, long +afterwards that experience of life taught me the evil that comes +of thinking--still worse, of saying--much that seems very fine; +taught me that there are certain thoughts which should always be +kept to oneself, since brave words seldom go with brave deeds. I +learnt then that the mere fact of giving utterance to a good +intention often makes it difficult, nay, impossible, to carry +that good intention into effect. Yet how is one to refrain from +giving utterance to the brave, self-sufficient impulses of youth? +Only long afterwards does one remember and regret them, even as +one incontinently plucks a flower before its blooming, and +subsequently finds it lying crushed and withered on the ground. + +The very next morning I, who had just been telling my friend +Dimitri that money corrupts all human relations, and had (as we +have seen) squandered the whole of my cash on pictures and +Turkish pipes, accepted a loan of twenty roubles which he +suggested should pay for my travelling expenses into the country, +and remained a long while thereafter in his debt! + +XXII + +INTIMATE CONVERSATION WITH MY FRIEND + +THIS conversation of ours took place in a phaeton on the way to +Kuntsevo. Dimitri had invited me in the morning to go with him to +his mother's, and had called for me after luncheon; the idea +being that I should spend the evening, and perhaps also pass the +night, at the country-house where his family lived. Only when we +had left the city and exchanged its grimy streets and the +unbearably deafening clatter of its pavements for the open vista +of fields and the subdued grinding of carriage-wheels on a dusty +high road (while the sweet spring air and prospect enveloped us +on every side) did I awake from the new impressions and +sensations of freedom into which the past two days had plunged +me. Dimitri was in his kind and sociable mood. That is to say, he +was neither frowning nor blinking nervously nor straightening his +neck in his collar. For my own part, I was congratulating myself +on those noble sentiments which I have expressed above, in the +belief that they had led him to overlook my shameful encounter +with Kolpikoff, and to refrain from despising me for it. Thus we +talked together on many an intimate subject which even a friend +seldom mentions to a friend. He told me about his family whose +acquaintance I had not yet made--about his mother, his aunt, and +his sister, as also about her whom Woloda and Dubkoff believed to +be his "flame," and always spoke of as "the lady with the +chestnut locks." Of his mother he spoke with a certain cold and +formal commendation, as though to forestall any further mention +of her; his aunt he extolled enthusiastically, though with a +touch of condescension in his tone; his sister he scarcely +mentioned at all, as though averse to doing so in my presence; +but on the subject of "the lady with the chestnut locks" (whose +real name was Lubov Sergievna, and who was a grown-up young lady +living on a family footing with the Nechludoffs) he discoursed +with animation. + +"Yes, she is a wonderful woman," he said with a conscious +reddening of the face, yet looking me in the eyes with dogged +temerity. "True, she is no longer young, and even rather elderly, +as well as by no means good-looking; but as for loving a mere +featherhead, a mere beauty--well, I never could understand that, +for it is such a silly thing to do." (Dimitri said this as though +he had just discovered a most novel and extraordinary truth.) "I +am certain, too, that such a soul, such a heart and principles, +as are hers are not to be found elsewhere in the world of the +present day." (I do not know whence he had derived the habit of +saying that few good things were discoverable in the world of the +present day, but at all events he loved to repeat the expression, +and it somehow suited him.) + +"Only, I am afraid," he went on quietly, after thus annihilating +all such men as were foolish enough to admire mere beauty, "I am +afraid that you will not understand or realise her quickly. She +is modest, even secretive, and by no means fond of exhibiting her +beautiful and surprising qualities. Now, my mother--who, as you +will see, is a noble, sensible woman--has known Lubov Sergievna, +for many years; yet even to this day she does not properly +understand her. Shall I tell you why I was out of temper last +evening when you were questioning me? Well, you must know that +the day before yesterday Lubov asked me to accompany her to Ivan +Yakovlevitch's (you have heard of him, I suppose? the fellow who +seems to be mad, but who, in reality, is a very remarkable man). +Well, Lubov is extremely religious, and understands Ivan +Yakovlevitch to the full. She often goes to see him, and +converses with him, and gives him money for the poor--money which +she has earned herself. She is a marvellous woman, as you will +see. Well, I went with her to Ivan's, and felt very grateful to +her for having afforded me the opportunity of exchanging a word +with so remarkable a man; but my mother could not understand our +action at all, and discerned in it only superstition. +Consequently, last night she and I quarrelled for the first time +in our lives. A very bitter one it was, too," he concluded, with +a convulsive shrug of his shoulders, as though the mention of it +recalled the feelings which he had then experienced. + +"And what are your intentions about it all?" I inquired, to +divert him from such a disagreeable recollection. "That is to +say, how do you imagine it is going to turn out? Do you ever +speak to her about the future, or about how your love or +friendship are going to end?" + +"Do you mean, do I intend to marry her eventually?" he inquired, +in his turn, with a renewed blush, but turning himself round and +looking me boldly in the face. + +"Yes, certainly," I replied as I settled myself down. "We are +both of us grown-up, as well as friends, so we may as well +discuss our future life as we drive along. No one could very well +overlook or overhear us now." + +"Why should I NOT marry her?" he went on in response to my +reassuring reply. "It is my aim--as it should be the aim of every +honourable man--to be as good and as happy as possible; and with +her, if she should still be willing when I have become more +independent, I should be happier and better than with the +greatest beauty in the world." + +Absorbed in such conversation, we hardly noticed that we were +approaching Kuntsevo, or that the sky was becoming overcast and +beginning to threaten rain. On the right, the sun was slowly +sinking behind the ancient trees of the Kuntsevo park--one half +of its brilliant disc obscured with grey, subluminous cloud, and +the other half sending forth spokes of flaming light which threw +the old trees into striking relief as they stood there with their +dense crowns of green showing against a blue patch of sky. The +light and shimmer of that patch contrasted sharply with the heavy +pink cloud which lay massed above a young birch-tree visible on +the horizon before us, while, a little further to the right, the +parti-coloured roofs of the Kuntsevo mansion could be seen +projecting above a belt of trees and undergrowth--one side of them +reflecting the glittering rays of the sun, and the other side +harmonising with the more louring portion of the heavens. Below +us, and to the left, showed the still blue of a pond where it lay +surrounded with pale-green laburnums--its dull, concave-looking +depths repeating the trees in more sombre shades of colour over +the surface of a hillock. Beyond the water spread the black +expanse of a ploughed field, with the straight line of a dark- +green ridge by which it was bisected running far into the +distance, and there joining the leaden, threatening horizon. + +On either side of the soft road along which the phaeton was +pursuing the even tenour of its way, bright-green, tangled, juicy +belts of rye were sprouting here and there into stalk. Not a +motion was perceptible in the air, only a sweet freshness, and +everything looked extraordinarily clear and bright. Near the road +I could see a little brown path winding its way among the dark- +green, quarter-grown stems of rye, and somehow that path reminded +me vividly of our village, and somehow (through some connection +of thought) the idea of that village reminded me vividly of +Sonetchka, and so of the fact that I was in love with her. + +Notwithstanding my fondness for Dimitri and the pleasure which +his frankness had afforded me, I now felt as though I desired to +hear no more about his feelings and intentions with regard to +Lubov Sergievna, but to talk unstintedly about my own love for +Sonetchka, who seemed to me an object of affection of a far +higher order. Yet for some reason or another I could not make up +my mind to tell him straight out how splendid it would seem when +I had married Sonetchka and we were living in the country--of how +we should have little children who would crawl about the floor +and call me Papa, and of how delighted I should be when he, +Dimitri, brought his wife, Lubov Sergievna, to see us, wearing an +expensive gown. Accordingly, instead of saying all that, I +pointed to the setting sun, and merely remarked: "Look, Dimitri! +How splendid!" + +To this, however, Dimitri made no reply, since he was evidently +dissatisfied at my answering his confession (which it had cost +him much to make) by directing his attention to natural objects +(to which he was, in general, indifferent). Upon him Nature had +an effect altogether different to what she had upon myself, for +she affected him rather by her industry than by her beauty--he +loved her rather with his intellect than with his senses. + +"I am absolutely happy," I went on, without noticing that he was +altogether taken up with his own thoughts and oblivious of +anything that I might be saying. "You will remember how told you +about a girl with whom I used to be in love when was a little +boy? Well, I saw her again only this morning, and am now +infatuated with her." Then I told him--despite his continued +expression of indifference--about my love, and about all my plans +for my future connubial happiness. Strangely enough, no sooner +had I related in detail the whole strength of my feelings than I +instantly became conscious of its diminution. + +The rain overtook us just as we were turning into the avenue of +birch-trees which led to the house, but it did not really wet us. +I only knew that it was raining by the fact that I felt a drop +fall, first on my nose, and then on my hand, and heard something +begin to patter upon the young, viscous leaves of the birch-trees +as, drooping their curly branches overhead, they seemed to imbibe +the pure, shining drops with an avidity which filled the whole +avenue with scent. We descended from the carriage, so as to reach +the house the quicker through the garden, but found ourselves +confronted at the entrance-door by four ladies, two of whom were +knitting, one reading a book, and the fourth walking to and fro +with a little dog. Thereupon, Dimitri began to present me to his +mother, sister, and aunt, as well as to Lubov Sergievna. For a +moment they remained where they were, but almost instantly the +rain became heavier. + +"Let us go into the verandah; you can present him to us there," +said the lady whom I took to be Dimitri's mother, and we all of +us ascended the entrance-steps. + +XXIII + +THE NECHLUDOFFS + +From the first, the member of this company who struck me the most +was Lubov Sergievna, who, holding a lapdog in her arms and +wearing stout laced boots, was the last of the four ladies to +ascend the staircase, and twice stopped to gaze at me intently +and then kiss her little dog. She was anything but good-looking, +since she was red-haired, thin, short, and slightly crooked. What +made her plain face all the plainer was the queer way in which +her hair was parted to one side (it looked like the wigs which +bald women contrive for themselves). However much I should have +liked to applaud my friend, I could not find a single comely +feature in her. Even her brown eyes, though expressive of good- +humour, were small and dull--were, in fact, anything but pretty; +while her hands (those most characteristic of features), were +though neither large nor ill-shaped, coarse and red. + +As soon as we reached the verandah, each of the ladies, except +Dimitri's sister Varenika--who also had been regarding me +attentively out of her large, dark-grey eyes--said a few words +to me before resuming her occupation, while Varenika herself began +to read aloud from a book which she held on her lap and steadied +with her finger. + +The Princess Maria Ivanovna was a tall, well-built woman of +forty. To judge by the curls of half-grey hair which descended +below her cap one might have taken her for more, but as soon as +ever one observed the fresh, extraordinarily tender, and almost +wrinkleless face, as well as, most of all, the lively, cheerful +sparkle of the large eyes, one involuntarily took her for less. +Her eyes were black and very frank, her lips thin and slightly +severe, her nose regular and slightly inclined to the left, and +her hands ringless, large, and almost like those of a man, but +with finely tapering fingers. She wore a dark-blue dress fastened +to the throat and sitting closely to her firm, still youthful +waist--a waist which she evidently pinched. Lastly, she held +herself very upright, and was knitting a garment of some kind. As +soon as I stepped on to the verandah she took me by the hand, +drew me to her as though wishing to scrutinise me more closely, +and said, as she gazed at me with the same cold, candid glance as +her son's, that she had long known me by report from Dimitri, and +that therefore, in order to make my acquaintance thoroughly, she +had invited me to stay these twenty-four hours in her house. + +"Do just as you please here," she said, "and stand on no ceremony +whatever with us, even as we shall stand on none with you. Pray +walk, read, listen, or sleep as the mood may take you." + +Sophia Ivanovna was an old maid and the Princess's younger +sister, though she looked the elder of the two. She had that +exceedingly overstuffed appearance which old maids always present +who are short of stature but wear corsets. It seemed as though +her healthiness had shifted upwards to the point of choking her, +her short, fat hands would not meet below her projecting bust, +and the line of her waist was scarcely visible at all. + +Notwithstanding that the Princess Maria Ivanovna had black hair +and eyes, while Sophia Ivanovna had white hair and large, +vivacious, tranquilly blue eyes (a rare combination), there was a +great likeness between the two sisters, for they had the same +expression, nose, and lips. The only difference was that Sophia's +nose and lips were a trifle coarser than Maria's, and that, when +she smiled, those features inclined towards the right, +whereas Maria's inclined towards the left. Sophia, to judge by +her dress and coiffure, was still youthful at heart, and would +never have displayed grey curls, even if she had possessed them. +Yet at first her glance and bearing towards me seemed very proud, +and made me nervous, whereas I at once felt at home with the +Princess. Perhaps it was only Sophia's stoutness and a certain +resemblance to portraits of Catherine the Great that gave her, in +my eyes, a haughty aspect, but at all events I felt quite +intimidated when she looked at me intently and said, "Friends of +our friends are our friends also." I became reassured and changed +my opinion about her only when, after saying those words, she +opened her mouth and sighed deeply. It may be that she owed her +habit of sighing after every few words--with a great distention +of the mouth and a slight drooping of her large blue eyes--to her +stoutness, yet it was none the less one which expressed so much +good-humour that I at once lost all fear of her, and found her +actually attractive. Her eyes were charming, her voice pleasant +and musical, and even the flowing lines of her fullness seemed to +my youthful vision not wholly lacking in beauty. + +I had imagined that Lubov Sergievna, as my friend's friend, would +at once say something friendly and familiar to me; yet, after +gazing at me fixedly for a while, as though in doubt whether the +remark she was about to make to me would not be too friendly, she +at length asked me what faculty I was in. After that she stared +at me as before, in evident hesitation as to whether or not to +say something civil and familiar, until, remarking her +perplexity, I besought her with a look to speak freely. Yet all +she then said was, "They tell me the Universities pay very little +attention to science now," and turned away to call her little +dog. + +All that evening she spoke only in disjointed fragments of this +kind--fragments which had no connection either with the point or +with one another; yet I had such faith in Dimitri, and he so +often kept looking from her to me with an expression which mutely +asked me, "Now, what do you think of that?" that, though I +entirely failed to persuade myself that in Lubov Sergievna there +was anything to speak of, I could not bear to express the +thought, even to myself. + +As for the last member of the family, Varenika, she was a well- +developed girl of sixteen. The only good features in her were a +pair of dark-grey eyes,--which, in their expression of gaiety +mingled with quiet attention, greatly resembled those of her +aunt--a long coil of flaxen hair, and extremely delicate, +beautiful hands. + +"I expect, Monsieur Nicolas, you find it wearisome to hear a +story begun from the middle?" said Sophia Ivanovna with her good- +natured sigh as she turned over some pieces of clothing which she +was sewing. The reading aloud had ceased for the moment because +Dimitri had left the room on some errand or another. + +"Or perhaps you have read Rob Roy before?" she added. + +At that period I thought it incumbent upon me, in virtue of my +student's uniform, to reply in a very "clever and original" +manner to every question put to me by people whom I did not know +very well, and regarded such short, clear answers as "Yes," "No," +"I like it," or "I do not care for it," as things to be ashamed +of. Accordingly, looking down at my new and fashionably-cut +trousers and the glittering buttons of my tunic, I replied that I +had never read Rob Roy, but that it interested me greatly to hear +it, since I preferred to read books from the middle rather than +from the beginning. + +"It is twice as interesting," I added with a self-satisfied +smirk; "for then one can guess what has gone before as well as +what is to come after." + +The Princess smiled what I thought was a forced smile, but one +which I discovered later to be her only one. + +"Well, perhaps that is true," she said. "But tell me, Nicolas +(you will not be offended if I drop the Monsieur)--tell me, are +you going to be in town long? When do you go away?" + +"I do not know quite. Perhaps to-morrow, or perhaps not for some +while yet," I replied for some reason or another, though I knew +perfectly well that in reality we were to go to-morrow. + +"I wish you could stop longer, both for your own sake and for +Dimitri's," she said in a meditative manner. "At your age +friendship is a weak thing." + +I felt that every one was looking at me, and waiting to see what +I should say--though certainly Varenika made a pretence of +looking at her aunt's work. I felt, in fact, as though I were +being put through an examination, and that it behoved me to +figure in it as well as possible. + +"Yes, to ME Dimitri's friendship is most useful," I replied, "but +to HIM mine cannot be of any use at all, since he is a thousand +times better than I." (Dimitri could not hear what I said, or I +should have feared his detecting the insincerity of my words.) + +Again the Princess smiled her unnatural, yet characteristically +natural, smile. + +"Just listen to him!" she said. "But it is YOU who are the little +monster of perfection." + +"'Monster of perfection,'" I thought to myself. "That is +splendid. I must make a note of it." + +"Yet, to dismiss yourself, he has been extraordinarily clever in +that quarter," she went on in a lower tone (which pleased me +somehow) as she indicated Lubov Sergievna with her eyes, "since +he has discovered in our poor little Auntie" (such was the pet +name which they gave Lubov) "all sorts of perfections which I, +who have known her and her little dog for twenty years, had never +yet suspected. "Varenika, go and tell them to bring me a glass of +water," she added, letting her eyes wander again. Probably she +had bethought her that it was too soon, or not entirely +necessary, to let me into all the family secrets. "Yet no--let +HIM go, for he has nothing to do, while you are reading. Pray go +to the door, my friend," she said to me, "and walk about fifteen +steps down the passage. Then halt and call out pretty loudly, +"Peter, bring Maria Ivanovna a glass of iced water"--and she +smiled her curious smile once more. + +"I expect she wants to say something about me in my absence," I +thought to myself as I left the room. "I expect she wants to +remark that she can see very clearly that I am a very, very +clever young man." + +Hardly had I taken a dozen steps when I was overtaken by Sophia +Ivanovna, who, though fat and short of breath, trod with +surprising lightness and agility. + +"Merci, mon cher," she said. "I will go and tell them myself." + +XXIV + +LOVE + +SOPHIA IVANOVNA, as I afterwards came to know her, was one of +those rare, young-old women who are born for family life, but to +whom that happiness has been denied by fate. Consequently all +that store of their love which should have been +poured out upon a husband and children becomes pent up in their +hearts, until they suddenly decide to let it overflow upon a few +chosen individuals. Yet so inexhaustible is that store of old +maids' love that, despite the number of individuals so selected, +there still remains an abundant surplus of affection which they +lavish upon all by whom they are surrounded--upon all, good or +bad, whom they may chance to meet in their daily life. + +Of love there are three kinds--love of beauty, the love which +denies itself, and practical love. + +Of the desire of a young man for a young woman, as well as of the +reverse instance, I am not now speaking, for of such tendresses I +am wary, seeing that I have been too unhappy in my life to have +been able ever to see in such affection a single spark of truth, +but rather a lying pretence in which sensuality, connubial +relations, money, and the wish to bind hands or to unloose them +have rendered feeling such a complex affair as to defy analysis. +Rather am I speaking of that love for a human being which, +according to the spiritual strength of its possessor, +concentrates itself either upon a single individual, upon a few, +or upon many--of love for a mother, a father, a brother, little +children, a friend, a compatriot--of love, in short, for one's +neighbour. + +Love of beauty consists in a love of the sense of beauty and of +its expression. People who thus love conceive the object of their +affection to be desirable only in so far as it arouses in them +that pleasurable sensation of which the consciousness and the +expression soothes the senses. They change the object of their +love frequently, since their principal aim consists in ensuring +that the voluptuous feeling of their adoration shall be +constantly titillated. To preserve in themselves this sensuous +condition, they talk unceasingly, and in the most elegant terms, +on the subject of the love which they feel, not only for its +immediate object, but also for objects upon which it does not +touch at all. This country of ours contains many such +individuals--individuals of that well-known class who, +cultivating "the beautiful," not only discourse of their cult to +all and sundry, but speak of it pre-eminently in FRENCH. It may +seem a strange and ridiculous thing to say, but I am convinced +that among us we have had in the past, and still have, a large +section of society--notably women--whose love for their friends, +husbands, or children would expire to-morrow if they were +debarred from dilating upon it in the tongue of France! + +Love of the second kind--renunciatory love--consists in a +yearning to undergo self-sacrifice for the object beloved, +regardless of any consideration whether such self-sacrifice will +benefit or injure the object in question. "There is no evil which +I would not endure to show both the world and him or her whom I +adore my devotion." There we have the formula of this kind of +love. People who thus love never look for reciprocity of +affection, since it is a finer thing to sacrifice yourself for +one who does not comprehend you. Also, they are always painfully +eager to exaggerate the merits of their sacrifice; usually +constant in their love, for the reason that they would find it +hard to forego the kudos of the deprivations which they endure +for the object beloved; always ready to die, to prove to him or +to her the entirety of their devotion; but sparing of such small +daily proofs of their love as call for no special effort of self- +immolation. They do not much care whether you eat well, sleep +well, keep your spirits up, or enjoy good health, nor do they +ever do anything to obtain for you those blessings if they have +it in their power; but, should you be confronting a bullet, or +have fallen into the water, or stand in danger of being burnt, or +have had your heart broken in a love affair--well, for all these +things they are prepared if the occasion should arise. Moreover, +people addicted to love of such a self-sacrificing order are +invariably proud of their love, exacting, jealous, distrustful, +and--strange to tell--anxious that the object of their adoration +should incur perils (so that they may save it from calamity, and +console it thereafter) and even be vicious (so that they may +purge it of its vice). + +Suppose, now, that you are living in the country with a wife who +loves you in this self-sacrificing manner. You may be healthy and +contented, and have occupations which interest you, while, on the +other hand, your wife may be too weak to superintend the +household work (which, in consequence, will be left to the +servants), or to look after the children (who, in consequence, +will be left to the nurses), or to put her heart into any work +whatsoever: and all because she loves nobody and nothing but +yourself. She may be patently ill, yet she will say not a word to +you about it, for fear of distressing you. She may be patently +ennuyee, yet for your sake she will be prepared to be so for the +rest of her life. She may be patently depressed because you stick +so persistently to your occupations (whether sport, books, +farming, state service, or anything else) and see clearly that +they are doing you harm; yet, for all that, she will keep +silence, and suffer it to be so. Yet, should you but fall sick-- +and, despite her own ailments and your prayers that she will not +distress herself in vain, your loving wife will remain sitting +inseparably by your bedside. Every moment you will feel her +sympathetic gaze resting upon you and, as it were, saying: +"There! I told you so, but it is all one to me, and I shall not +leave you." In the morning you maybe a little better, and move +into another room. The room, however, will be insufficiently +warmed or set in order; the soup which alone you feel you could +eat will not have been cooked; nor will any medicine have been +sent for. Yet, though worn out with night watching, your loving +wife will continue to regard you with an expression of sympathy, +to walk about on tiptoe, and to whisper unaccustomed and obscure +orders to the servants. You may wish to be read to--and your +loving wife will tell you with a sigh that she feels sure you +will be unable to hear her reading, and only grow angry at her +awkwardness in doing it; wherefore you had better not be read to +at all. You may wish to walk about the room--and she will tell you +that it would be far better for you not to do so. You may wish to +talk with some friends who have called--and she will tell you that +talking is not good for you. At nightfall the fever may come upon +you again, and you may wish to be left alone whereupon your +loving wife, though wasted, pale, and full of yawns, will go on +sitting in a chair opposite you, as dusk falls, until her very +slightest movement, her very slightest sound, rouses you to +feelings of anger and impatience. You may have a servant who has +lived with you for twenty years, and to whom you are attached, +and who would tend you well and to your satisfaction during the +night, for the reason that he has been asleep all day and is, +moreover, paid a salary for his services; yet your wife will not +suffer him to wait upon you. No; everything she must do herself +with her weak, unaccustomed fingers (of which you follow the +movements with suppressed irritation as those pale members do +their best to uncork a medicine bottle, to snuff a candle, to +pour out physic, or to touch you in a squeamish sort of way). If +you are an impatient, hasty sort of man, and beg of her to leave +the room, you will hear by the vexed, distressed sounds which +come from her that she is humbly sobbing and weeping behind the +door, and whispering foolishness of some kind to the servant. +Finally if you do not die, your loving wife--who has not slept +during the whole three weeks of your illness (a fact of which she +will constantly remind you)--will fall ill in her turn, waste +away, suffer much, and become even more incapable of any useful +pursuit than she was before; while by the time that you have +regained your normal state of health she will express to you her +self-sacrificing affection only by shedding around you +a kind of benignant dullness which involuntarily communicates +itself both to yourself and to every one else in your vicinity. + +The third kind of love--practical love--consists of a yearning to +satisfy every need, every desire, every caprice, nay, every vice, +of the being beloved. People who love thus always love their life +long, since, the more they love, the more they get to know the +object beloved, and the easier they find the task of loving it-- +that is to say, of satisfying its desires. Their love seldom +finds expression in words, but if it does so, it expresses itself +neither with assurance nor beauty, but rather in a shamefaced, +awkward manner, since people of this kind invariably have +misgivings that they are loving unworthily. People of this kind +love even the faults of their adored one, for the reason that +those faults afford them the power of constantly satisfying new +desires. They look for their affection to be returned, and even +deceive themselves into believing that it is returned, and are +happy accordingly: yet in the reverse case they will still +continue to desire happiness for their beloved one, and try by +every means in their power--whether moral or material, great or +small--to provide it. + +Such practical love it was--love for her nephew, for her niece, +for her sister, for Lubov Sergievna, and even for myself, because +I loved Dimitri--that shone in the eyes, as well as in the every +word and movement, of Sophia Ivanovna. + +Only long afterwards did I learn to value her at her true worth. +Yet even now the question occurred to me: "What has made Dimitri-- +who throughout has tried to understand love differently to other +young fellows, and has always had before his eyes the gentle, +loving Sophia Ivanovna--suddenly fall so deeply in love with the +incomprehensible Lubov Sergievna, and declare that in his aunt he +can only find good QUALITIES? Verily it is a true saying that 'a +prophet hath no honour in his own country.' One of two things: +either every man has in him more of bad than of good, or every +man is more receptive to bad than to good. Lubov Sergievna he has +not known for long, whereas his aunt's love he has known since +the day of his birth." + +XXV + +I BECOME BETTER ACQUAINTED WITH THE NECHLUDOFFS + +WHEN I returned to the verandah, I found that they were not +talking of me at all, as I had anticipated. On the contrary, +Varenika had laid aside the book, and was engaged in a heated +dispute with Dimitri, who, for his part, was walking up and down +the verandah, and frowningly adjusting his neck in his collar as +he did so. The subject of the quarrel seemed to be Ivan +Yakovlevitch and superstition, but it was too animated a +difference for its underlying cause not to be something which +concerned the family much more nearly. Although the Princess and +Lubov Sergievna were sitting by in silence, they were following +every word, and evidently tempted at times to take part in the +dispute; yet always, just when they were about to speak, they +checked themselves, and left the field clear for the two +principles, Dimitri and Varenika. On my entry, the latter glanced +at me with such an indifferent air that I could see she was +wholly absorbed in the quarrel and did not care whether she spoke +in my presence or not. The Princess too looked the same, and was +clearly on Varenika's side, while Dimitri began, if anything, to +raise his voice still more when I appeared, and Lubov Sergievna, +for her part, observed to no one in particular: "Old people are +quite right when they say, 'Si jeunesse savait, si vieillesse +pouvait.'" + +Nevertheless this quotation did not check the dispute, though it +somehow gave me the impression that the side represented by the +speaker and her friend was in the wrong. Although it was a little +awkward for me to be present at a petty family difference, the +fact that the true relations of the family revealed themselves +during its progress, and that my presence did nothing to hinder +that revelation, afforded me considerable gratification. + +How often it happens that for years one sees a family cover +themselves over with a conventional cloak of decorum, and +preserve the real relations of its members a secret from every +eye! How often, too, have I remarked that, the more impenetrable +(and therefore the more decorous) is the cloak, the harsher are +the relations which it conceals! Yet, once let some unexpected +question--often a most trivial one (the colour of a woman's hair, +a visit, a man's horses, and so forth)--arise in that family +circle, and without any visible cause there will also arise an +ever-growing difference, until in time the cloak of decorum +becomes unequal to confining the quarrel within due bounds, and, +to the dismay of the disputants and the astonishment of the +auditors, the real and ill-adjusted relations of the family are +laid bare, and the cloak, now useless for concealment, is bandied +from hand to hand among the contending factions until it serves +only to remind one of the years during which it successfully +deceived one's perceptions. Sometimes to strike one's head +violently against a ceiling hurts one less than just to graze +some spot which has been hurt and bruised before: and in almost +every family there exists some such raw and tender spot. In the +Nechludoff family that spot was Dimitri's extraordinary affection +for Lubov Sergievna, which aroused in the mother and sister, if +not a jealous feeling, at all events a sense of hurt family +pride. This was the grave significance which underlay, for all +those present, the seeming dispute about Ivan Yakovlevitch and +superstition. + +"In anything that other people deride and despise you invariably +profess to see something extraordinarily good!" Varenika was +saying in her clear voice, as she articulated each syllable with +careful precision. + +"Indeed?" retorted Dimitri with an impatient toss of his head. +"Now, in the first place, only a most unthinking person could +ever speak of DESPISING such a remarkable man as Ivan +Yakovlevitch, while, in the second place, it is YOU who +invariably profess to see nothing good in what confronts you." + +Meanwhile Sophia Ivanovna kept looking anxiously at us as she +turned first to her nephew, and then to her niece, and then to +myself. Twice she opened her mouth as though to say what was in +her mind and drew a deep sigh. + +"Varia, PLEASE go on reading," she said at length, at the same +time handing her niece the book, and patting her hand kindly. "I +wish to know whether he ever found HER again " (as a matter of +fact, the novel in question contained not a word about any one +finding any one else). "And, Mitia dear," she added to her +nephew, despite the glum looks which he was throwing at her for +having interrupted the logical thread of his deductions, "you had +better let me poultice your cheek, or your teeth will begin to +ache again." + +After that the reading was resumed. Yet the quarrel had in no way +dispelled the calm atmosphere of family and intellectual harmony +which enveloped this circle of ladies. + +Clearly deriving its inspiration and character from the Princess +Maria Ivanovna, it was a circle which, for me, had a wholly novel +and attractive character of logicalness mingled with simplicity +and refinement. That character I could discern in the daintiness, +good taste, and solidity of everything about me, whether the +handbell, the binding of the book, the settee, or the table. +Likewise, I divined it in the upright, well-corseted pose of the +Princess, in her pendant curls of grey hair, in the manner in +which she had, at our first introduction, called me plain +"Nicolas" and "he," in the occupations of the ladies (the +reading and the sewing of garments), and in the unusual whiteness +of their hands. Those hands, en passant, showed a family feature +common to all--namely, the feature that the flesh of the palm on +the outer side was rosy in colour, and divided by a sharp, +straight line from the pure whiteness of the upper portion of the +hand. Still more was the character of this feminine circle +expressed in the manner in which the three ladies spoke Russian +and French--spoke them, that is to say, with perfect articulation +of syllables and pedantic accuracy of substantives and +prepositions. All this, and more especially the fact that the +ladies treated me as simply and as seriously as a real grown-up-- +telling me their opinions, and listening to my own (a thing to +which I was so little accustomed that, for all my glittering +buttons and blue facings, I was in constant fear of being told: +"Surely you do not think that we are talking SERIOUSLY to you? Go +away and learn something")--all this, I say, caused me to feel an +entire absence of restraint in this society. I ventured at times +to rise, to move about, and to talk boldly to each of the ladies +except Varenika (whom I always felt it was unbecoming, or even +forbidden, for me to address unless she first spoke to me). + +As I listened to her clear, pleasant voice reading aloud, I kept +glancing from her to the path of the flower-garden, where the +rain-spots were making small dark circles in the sand, and thence +to the lime-trees, upon the leaves of which the rain was +pattering down in large detached drops shed from the pale, +shimmering edge of the livid blue cloud which hung suspended over +us. Then I would glance at her again, and then at the last purple +rays of the setting sun where they were throwing the dense +clusters of old, rain-washed birches into brilliant relief. Yet +again my eyes would return to Varenika, and, each time that they +did so, it struck me afresh that she was not nearly so plain as +at first I had thought her. + +"How I wish that I wasn't in love already!" I reflected, "or that +Sonetchka was Varenika! How nice it would be if suddenly I could +become a member of this family, and have the three ladies for my +mother, aunt, and wife respectively!" All the time that these +thoughts kept passing through my head I kept attentively +regarding Varenika as she read, until somehow I felt as though I +were magnetising her, and that presently she must look at me. +Sure enough, at length she raised her head, threw me a glance, +and, meeting my eyes, turned away. + +"The rain does not seem to stop," she remarked. + +Suddenly a new feeling came over me. I began to feel as though +everything now happening to me was a repetition of some similar +occurrence before--as though on some previous occasion a shower +of rain had begun to fall, and the sun had set behind birch- +trees, and I had been looking at her, and she had been reading +aloud, and I had magnetised her, and she had looked up at me. +Yes, all this I seemed to recall as though it had happened once +before. + +"Surely she is not--SHE?" was my thought. "Surely IT is not +beginning?" However, I soon decided that Varenika was not the +"SHE" referred to, and that "it" was not "beginning." "In the +first place," I said to myself, "Varenika is not at all +BEAUTIFUL. She is just an ordinary girl whose acquaintance I have +made in the ordinary way, whereas the she whom I shall meet +somewhere and some day and in some not ordinary way will be +anything but ordinary. This family pleases me so much only +because hitherto I have never seen anybody. Such things will +always be happening in the future, and I shall see many more such +families during my life." + +XXVI + +I SHOW OFF + +AT tea time the reading came to an end, and the ladies began to +talk among themselves of persons and things unknown to me. This I +conceived them to be doing on purpose to make me conscious (for +all their kind demeanour) of the difference which years and +position in the world had set between them and myself. In general +discussions, however, in which I could take part I sought to +atone for my late silence by exhibiting that extraordinary +cleverness and originality to which I felt compelled by my +University uniform. For instance, when the conversation turned +upon country houses, I said that Prince Ivan Ivanovitch had a +villa near Moscow which people came to see even from London and +Paris, and that it contained balustrading which had cost 380,000 +roubles. Likewise, I remarked that the Prince was a very near +relation of mine, and that, when lunching with him the same day, +he had invited me to go and spend the entire summer with him at +that villa, but that I had declined, since I knew the villa well, +and had stayed in it more than once, and that all those +balustradings and bridges did not interest me, since I could not +bear ornamental work, especially in the country, where I liked +everything to be wholly countrified. After delivering myself of +this extraordinary and complicated romance, I grew confused, and +blushed so much that every one must have seen that I was lying. +Both Varenika, who was handing me a cup of tea, and Sophia +Ivanovna, who had been gazing at me throughout, turned their +heads away, and began to talk of something else with an +expression which I afterwards learnt that good-natured people +assume when a very young man has told them a manifest string of +lies--an expression which says, "Yes, we know he is lying, and +why he is doing it, the poor young fellow!" + +What I had said about Prince Ivan Ivanovitch having a country +villa, I had related simply because I could find no other pretext +for mentioning both my relationship to the Prince and the fact +that I had been to luncheon with him that day; yet why I had said +all I had about the balustrading costing 380,000 roubles, and +about my having several times visited the Prince at that villa (I +had never once been there--more especially since the Prince +possessed no residences save in Moscow and Naples, as the +Nechludoffs very well knew), I could not possibly tell you. +Neither in childhood nor in adolescence nor in riper years did I +ever remark in myself the vice of falsehood--on the contrary, I +was, if anything, too outspoken and truthful. Yet, during this +first stage of my manhood, I often found myself seized with a +strange and unreasonable tendency to lie in the most desperate +fashion. I say advisedly "in the most desperate fashion," for the +reason that I lied in matters in which it was the easiest thing +in the world to detect me. On the whole I think that a vain- +glorious desire to appear different from what I was, combined +with an impossible hope that the lie would never be found out, +was the chief cause of this extraordinary impulse. + +After tea, since the rain had stopped and the after-glow of +sunset was calm and clear, the Princess proposed that we should +go and stroll in the lower garden, and admire her favourite spots +there. Following my rule to be always original, and conceiving +that clever people like myself and the Princess must surely be +above the banalities of politeness, I replied that I could not +bear a walk with no object in view, and that, if I DID walk, I +liked to walk alone. I had no idea that this speech was simply +rude; all I thought was that, even as nothing could be more +futile than empty compliments, so nothing could be more pleasing +and original than a little frank brusquerie. However, though much +pleased with my answer, I set out with the rest of the company. + +The Princess's favourite spot of all was at the very bottom of +the lower garden, where a little bridge spanned a narrow piece of +swamp. The view there was very restricted, yet very intimate and +pleasing. We are so accustomed to confound art with nature that, +often enough, phenomena of nature which are never to be met with +in pictures seem to us unreal, and give us the impression that +nature is unnatural, or vice versa; whereas phenomena of nature +which occur with too much frequency in pictures seem to us +hackneyed, and views which are to be met with in real life, but +which appear to us too penetrated with a single idea or a single +sentiment, seem to us arabesques. The view from the Princess's +favourite spot was as follows. On the further side of a small +lake, over-grown with weeds round its edges, rose a steep ascent +covered with bushes and with huge old trees of many shades of +green, while, overhanging the lake at the foot of the ascent, +stood an ancient birch tree which, though partly supported by +stout roots implanted in the marshy bank of the lake, rested its +crown upon a tall, straight poplar, and dangled its curved +branches over the smooth surface of the pond--both branches and +the surrounding greenery being reflected therein as in a mirror. + +"How lovely!" said the Princess with a nod of her head, and +addressing no one in particular. + +"Yes, marvellous!" I replied in my desire to show that had an +opinion of my own on every subject. "Yet somehow it all looks to +me so terribly like a scheme of decoration." + +The Princess went on gazing at the scene as though she had not +heard me, and turning to her sister and Lubov Sergievna at +intervals, in order to point out to them its details--especially +a curved, pendent bough, with its reflection in the water, which +particularly pleased her. Sophia Ivanovna observed to me that it +was all very beautiful, and that she and her sister would +sometimes spend hours together at this spot; yet it was clear +that her remarks were meant merely to please the Princess. I have +noticed that people who are gifted with the faculty of loving are +seldom receptive to the beauties of nature. Lubov Sergievna also +seemed enraptured, and asked (among other things), "How does that +birch tree manage to support itself? Has it stood there long?" +Yet the next moment she became absorbed in contemplation of her +little dog Susetka, which, with its stumpy paws pattering to and +fro upon the bridge in a mincing fashion, seemed to say by the +expression of its face that this was the first time it had ever +found itself out of doors. As for Dimitri, he fell to discoursing +very logically to his mother on the subject of how no view can be +beautiful of which the horizon is limited. Varenika alone said +nothing. Glancing at her, I saw that she was leaning over the +parapet of the bridge, her profile turned towards me, and gazing +straight in front of her. Something seemed to be interesting her +deeply, or even affecting her, since it was clear that she was +oblivious to her surroundings, and thinking neither of herself +nor of the fact that any one might be regarding her. In the +expression of her large eyes there was nothing but wrapt +attention and quiet, concentrated thought, while her whole +attitude seemed so unconstrained and, for all her shortness, so +dignified that once more some recollection or another touched me +and once more I asked myself, "Is IT, then, beginning?" Yet again +I assured myself that I was already in love with Sonetchka, and +that Varenika was only an ordinary girl, the sister of my friend. +Though she pleased me at that moment, I somehow felt a vague +desire to show her, by word or deed, some small unfriendliness. + +"I tell you what, Dimitri," I said to my friend as I moved nearer +to Varenika, so that she might overhear what I was going to say, +"it seems to me that, even if there had been no mosquitos here, +there would have been nothing to commend this spot; whereas "-- +and here I slapped my cheek, and in very truth annihilated one of +those insects--"it is simply awful." + +"Then you do not care for nature?" said Varenika without turning +her head. + +"I think it a foolish, futile pursuit," I replied, well satisfied +that I had said something to annoy her, as well as something +original. Varenika only raised her eyebrows a little, with an +expression of pity, and went on gazing in front of her as calmly +as before. + +I felt vexed with her. Yet, for all that, the rusty, paint- +blistered parapet on which she was leaning, the way in which the +dark waters of the pond reflected the drooping branch of the +overhanging birch tree (it almost seemed to me as though branch +and its reflection met), the rising odour of the swamp, the +feeling of crushed mosquito on my cheek, and her absorbed look +and statuesque pose--many times afterwards did these things +recur with unexpected vividness to my recollection. + +XXVII + +DIMITRI + +WHEN we returned to the house from our stroll, Varenika declined +to sing as she usually did in the evenings, and I was conceited +enough to attribute this to my doing, in the belief that its +reason lay in what I had said on the bridge. The Nechludoffs +never had supper, and went to bed early, while to-night, since +Dimitri had the toothache (as Sophia Ivanovna had foretold), he +departed with me to his room even earlier than usual. Feeling +that I had done all that was required of me by my blue collar and +gilt buttons, and that every one was very pleased with me, I was +in a gratified, complacent mood, while Dimitri, on the other +hand, was rendered by his quarrel with his sister and the +toothache both taciturn and gloomy. He sat down at the table, got +out a couple of notebooks--a diary and the copy-book in which it +was his custom every evening to inscribe the tasks performed by +or awaiting him--and, continually frowning and touching his cheek +with his hand, continued writing for a while. + +"Oh, DO leave me alone!" he cried to the maid whom Sophia +Ivanovna sent to ask him whether his teeth were still hurting +him, and whether he would not like to have a poultice made. Then, +saying that my bed would soon be ready for me and that he would +be back presently, he departed to Lubov Sergievna's room. + +"What a pity that Varenika is not good-looking and, in general, +Sonetchka!" I reflected when I found myself alone. "How nice it +would be if, after I have left the University, I could go to her +and offer her my hand! I would say to her, 'Princess, though no +longer young, and therefore unable to love passionately, I will +cherish you as a dear sister. And you,' I would continue to her +mother, 'I greatly respect; and you, Sophia Ivanovna, I value +highly. Therefore say to me, Varenika (since I ask you to be my +wife), just the simple and direct word YES.' And she would give +me her hand, and I should press it, and say, 'Mine is a love +which depends not upon words, but upon deeds.' And suppose," next +came into my head, "that Dimitri should suddenly fall in love +with Lubotshka (as Lubotshka has already done with him), and +should desire to marry her? Then either one or the other of us +would have to resign all thought of marriage. Well, it would be +splendid, for in that case I should act thus. As soon as I had +noticed how things were, I should make no remark, but go to +Dimitri and say, 'It is no use, my friend, for you and I to +conceal our feelings from one another. You know that my love for +your sister will terminate only with my life. Yet I know all; and +though you have deprived me of all hope, and have rendered me an +unhappy man, so that Nicolas Irtenieff will have to bewail his +misery for the rest of his existence, yet do you take my sister,' +and I should lay his hand in Lubotshka's. Then he would say to +me, 'No, not for all the world!' and I should reply, 'Prince +Nechludoff, it is in vain for you to attempt to outdo me in +nobility. Not in the whole world does there exist a more +magnanimous being than Nicolas Irtenieff.' Then I should salute +him and depart. In tears Dimitri and Lubotshka would pursue me, +and entreat me to accept their sacrifice, and I should consent to +do so, and, perhaps, be happy ever afterwards--if only I were in +love with Varenika." These fancies tickled my imagination so +pleasantly that I felt as though I should like to communicate +them to my friend; yet, despite our mutual vow of frankness, I +also felt as though I had not the physical energy to do so. + +Dimitri returned from Lubov Sergievna's room with some toothache +capsules which she had given him, yet in even greater pain, and +therefore in even greater depression, than before. Evidently no +bedroom had yet been prepared for me, for presently the boy who +acted as Dimitri's valet arrived to ask him where I was to sleep. + +"Oh, go to the devil!" cried Dimitri, stamping his foot. "Vasika, +Vasika, Vasika!" he went on, the instant that the boy had left +the room, with a gradual raising of his voice at each repetition. +" Vasika, lay me out a bed on the floor." + +"No, let ME sleep on the floor," I objected. + +"Well, it is all one. Lie anywhere you like," continued Dimitri +in the same angry tone. "Vasika, why don't you go and do what I +tell you? " + +Evidently Vasika did not understand what was demanded of him, for +he remained where he was. + +"What is the matter with you? Go and lay the bed, Vasika, I tell +you!" shouted Dimitri, suddenly bursting into a sort of frenzy; +yet Vasika still did not understand, but, blushing hotly, stood +motionless. + +"So you are determined to drive me mad, are you?"--and leaping +from his chair and rushing upon the boy, Dimitri struck him on +the head with the whole weight of his fist, until the boy rushed +headlong from the room. Halting in the doorway, Dimitri glanced +at me, and the expression of fury and pain which had sat for a +moment on his countenance suddenly gave place to such a boyish, +kindly, affectionate, yet ashamed, expression that I felt sorry +for him, and reconsidered my intention of leaving him to himself. +He said nothing, but for a long time paced the room in silence, +occasionally glancing at me with the same deprecatory expression +as before. Then he took his notebook from the table, wrote +something in it, took off his jacket and folded it carefully, +and, stepping into the corner where the ikon hung, knelt down and +began to say his prayers, with his large white hands folded upon +his breast. So long did he pray that Vasika had time to bring a +mattress and spread it, under my whispered directions, on the +floor. Indeed, I had undressed and laid myself down upon the +mattress before Dimitri had finished. As I contemplated his +slightly rounded back and the soles of his feet (which somehow +seemed to stick out in my direction in a sort of repentant +fashion whenever he made his obeisances), I felt that I liked him +more than ever, and debated within myself whether or not I should +tell him all I had been fancying concerning our respective +sisters. When he had finished his prayers, he lay down upon the +bed near me, and, propping himself upon his elbow, looked at me +in silence, with a kindly, yet abashed, expression. Evidently he +found it difficult to do this, yet meant thus to punish himself. +Then I smiled and returned his gaze, and he smiled back at me. + +"Why do you not tell me that my conduct has been abominable?" he +said. "You have been thinking so, have you not?" + +"Yes," I replied; and although it was something quite different +which had been in my mind, it now seemed to me that that was what +I had been thinking. "Yes, it was not right of you, nor should I +have expected it of you." It pleased me particularly at that +moment to call him by the familiar second person singular. "But +how are your teeth now?" I added. + +"Oh, much better. Nicolinka, my friend," he went on, and so +feelingly that it sounded as though tears were standing in his +eyes, "I know and feel that I am bad, but God sees how I try to +be better, and how I entreat Him to make me so. Yet what am I to +do with such an unfortunate, horrible nature as mine? What am I +to do with it? I try to keep myself in hand and to rule myself, +but suddenly it becomes impossible for me to do so--at all events, +impossible for me to do so unaided. I need the help and support +of some one. Now, there is Lubov Sergievna; SHE understands me, +and could help me in this, and I know by my notebook that I have +greatly improved in this respect during the past year. Ah, my +dear Nicolinka"--he spoke with the most unusual and unwonted +tenderness, and in a tone which had grown calmer now that he had +made his confession--" how much the influence of a woman like +Lubov could do for me! Think how good it would be for me if I +could have a friend like her to live with when I have become +independent! With her I should be another man." + +And upon that Dimitri began to unfold to me his plans for +marriage, for a life in the country, and for continual self- +discipline. + +"Yes, I will live in the country," he said, "and you shall come +to see me when you have married Sonetchka. Our children shall +play together. All this may seem to you stupid and ridiculous, +yet it may very well come to pass." + +"Yes, it very well may " I replied with a smile, yet thinking how +much nicer it would be if I married his sister. + +"I tell you what," he went on presently; "you only imagine +yourself to be in love with Sonetchka, whereas I can see that it +is all rubbish, and that you do not really know what love means." + +I did not protest, for, in truth, I almost agreed with him, and +for a while we lay without speaking. + +"Probably you have noticed that I have been in my old bad humour +today, and have had a nasty quarrel with Varia?" he resumed. "I +felt bad about it afterwards--more particularly since it occurred +in your presence. Although she thinks wrongly on some subjects, +she is a splendid girl and very good, as you will soon +recognise." + +His quick transition from mention of my love affairs to praise of +his sister pleased me extremely, and made me blush, but I +nevertheless said nothing more about his sister, and we went on +talking of other things. + +Thus we chattered until the cocks had crowed twice. In fact, the +pale dawn was already looking in at the window when at last +Dimitri lay down upon his bed and put out the candle. + +"Well, now for sleep," he said. + +"Yes," I replied, " but--" + +"But what?" + +"Now nice it is to be alive in the daylight!" + +"Yes, it IS a splendid thing! " he replied in a voice which, even +in the darkness, enabled me to see the expression of his +cheerful, kindly eyes and boyish smile. + +XXVIII + +IN THE COUNTRY + +Next day Woloda and myself departed in a post-chaise for the +country. Turning over various Moscow recollections in my head as +we drove along, I suddenly recalled Sonetchka Valakhin--though +not until evening, and when we had already covered five stages of +the road. "It is a strange thing," I thought, "that I should be +in love, and yet have forgotten all about it. I must start and +think about her," and straightway I proceeded to do so, but only +in the way that one thinks when travelling--that is to say, +disconnectedly, though vividly. Thus I brought myself to such a +condition that, for the first two days after our arrival home, I +somehow considered it incumbent upon me always to appear sad and +moody in the presence of the household, and especially before +Katenka, whom I looked upon as a great connoisseur in matters of +this kind, and to whom I threw out a hint of the condition in +which my heart was situated. Yet, for all my attempts at +dissimulation and assiduous adoption of such signs of love +sickness as I had occasionally observed in other people, I only +succeeded for two days (and that at intervals, and mostly towards +evening) in reminding myself of the fact that I was in love, and +finally, when I had settled down into the new rut of country life +and pursuits, I forgot about my affection for Sonetchka +altogether. + +We arrived at Petrovskoe in the night time, and I was then so +soundly asleep that I saw nothing of the house as we approached +it, nor yet of the avenue of birch trees, nor yet of the +household--all of whom had long ago betaken themselves to bed and +to slumber. Only old hunchbacked Foka--bare-footed, clad in some +sort of a woman's wadded nightdress, and carrying a candlestick-- +opened the door to us. As soon as he saw who we were, he trembled +all over with joy, kissed us on the shoulders, hurriedly put on +his felt slippers, and started to dress himself properly. I +passed in a semi-waking condition through the porch and up the +steps, but in the hall the lock of the door, the bars and bolts, +the crooked boards of the flooring, the chest, the ancient +candelabrum (splashed all over with grease as of old), the +shadows thrown by the crooked, chill, recently-lighted stump of +candle, the perennially dusty, unopened window behind which I +remembered sorrel to have grown--all was so familiar, so full of +memories, so intimate of aspect, so, as it were, knit together by +a single idea, that I suddenly became conscious of a tenderness +for this quiet old house. Involuntarily I asked myself, "How have +we, the house and I, managed to remain apart so long?" and, +hurrying from spot to spot, ran to see if all the other rooms +were still the same. Yes, everything was unchanged, except that +everything had become smaller and lower, and I myself taller, +heavier, and more filled out. Yet, even as I was, the old house +received me back into its arms, and aroused in me with every +board, every window, every step of the stairs, and every sound +the shadows of forms, feelings, and events of the happy but +irrevocable past. When we entered our old night nursery, all my +childish fears lurked once more in the darkness of the corners +and doorway. When we passed into the drawing-room, I could feel +the old calm motherly love diffusing itself from every object in +the apartment. In the breakfast-room, the noisy, careless +merriment of childhood seemed merely to be waiting to wake to +life again. In the divannaia (whither Foka first conducted us, +and where he had prepared our beds) everything--mirror, screen, +old wooden ikon, the lumps on the walls covered with white paper-- +seemed to speak of suffering and of death and of what would never +come back to us again. + +We got into bed, and Foka, bidding us good-night, retired. + +"It was in this room that Mamma died, was it not?" said Woloda. + +I made no reply, but pretended to be asleep. If I had said +anything I should have burst into tears. On awaking next morning, +I beheld Papa sitting on Woloda's bed in his dressing gown and +slippers and smoking a cigar. Leaping up with a merry hoist of +the shoulders, he came over to me, slapped me on the back with +his great hand, and presented me his cheek to press my lips to. + +"Well done, DIPLOMAT!" he said in his most kindly jesting tone as +he looked at me with his small bright eyes. "Woloda tells me you +have passed the examinations well for a youngster, and that is a +splendid thing. Unless you start and play the fool, I shall have +another fine little fellow in you. Thanks, my dear boy. Well, we +will have a grand time of it here now, and in the winter, +perhaps, we shall move to St. Petersburg. I only wish the hunting +was not over yet, or I could have given you some amusement in +THAT way. Can you shoot, Woldemar? However, whether there is any +game or not, I will take you out some day. Next winter, if God +pleases, we will move to St. Petersburg, and you shall meet +people, and make friends, for you are now my two young grown-ups. +I have been telling Woldemar that you are just starting on your +careers, whereas my day is ended. You are old enough now to walk +by yourselves, but, whenever you wish to confide in me, pray do +so, for I am no longer your nurse, but your friend. At least, I +will be your friend and comrade and adviser as much as I can and +more than that I cannot do. How does that fall in with your +philosophy, eh, Koko? Well or ill, eh?" + +Of course I said that it fell in with it entirely, and, indeed, I +really thought so. That morning Papa had a particularly winning, +bright, and happy expression on his face, and these new relations +between us, as of equals and comrades, made me love him all the +more. + +"Now, tell me," he went on, "did you call upon all our kinsfolk +and the Iwins? Did you see the old man, and what did he say to +you? And did you go to Prince Ivan's?" + +We continued talking so long that, before we were fully dressed, +the sun had left the window of the divannaia, and Jakoff (the +same old man who of yore had twirled his fingers behind his back +and always repeated his words) had entered the room and reported +to Papa that the carriage was ready. + +"Where are you going to?" I asked Papa. + +"Oh, I had forgotten all about it!" he replied, with a cough and +the usual hoisting of his shoulder. "I promised to go and call +upon Epifanova to-day. You remember Epifanova--'la belle +Flamande'--don't you, who used to come and see your Mamma? They +are nice people." And with a self-conscious shrug of his +shoulders (so it appeared to me) Papa left the room. + +During our conversation, Lubotshka had more than once come to the +door and asked "Can I come in?" but Papa had always shouted to +her that she could not do so, since we were not dressed yet. + +"What rubbish!" she replied. "Why, I have seen you in your +dressing-gown." + +"Never mind; you cannot see your brothers without their +inexpressibles," rejoined Papa. "If they each of them just go to +the door, let that be enough for you. Now go. Even for them to +SPEAK to you in such a neglige costume is unbecoming." + +"How unbearable you are!" was Lubotshka's parting retort. "Well, +at least hurry up and come down to the drawing-room, for Mimi +wants to see them." + +As soon as Papa had left the room, I hastened to array myself in +my student's uniform, and to repair to the drawing-room. + +Woloda, on the other hand, was in no hurry, but remained sitting +on his bed and talking to Jakoff about the best places to find +plover and snipe. As I have said, there was nothing in the world +he so much feared as to be suspected of any affection for his +father, brother, and sister; so that, to escape any expression of +that feeling, he often fell into the other extreme, and affected +a coldness which shocked people who did not comprehend its cause. +In the hall, I collided with Papa, who was hurrying towards the +carriage with short, rapid steps. He had a new and fashionable +Moscow greatcoat on, and smelt of scent. On seeing me, he gave a +cheerful nod, as much as to say, "Do you remark my splendour?" +and once again I was struck with the happy expression of face +which I had noted earlier in the morning. + +The drawing-room looked the same lofty, bright room as of Yore, +with its brown English piano, and its large open windows looking +on to the green trees and yellowish-red paths of the garden. +After kissing Mimi and Lubotshka, I was approaching Katenka for +the same purpose when it suddenly struck me that it might be +improper for me to salute her in that fashion. Accordingly I +halted, silent and blushing. Katenka, for her part, was quite at +her ease as she held out a white hand to me and congratulated me +on my passing into the University. The same thing took place when +Woloda entered the drawing-room and met Katenka. Indeed, it was +something of a problem how, after being brought up together and +seeing one another daily, we ought now, after this first +separation, to meet again. Katenka had grown better-looking than +any of us, yet Woloda seemed not at all confused as, with a +slight bow to her, he crossed over to Lubotshka, made a jesting +remark to her, and then departed somewhere on some solitary +expedition. + +XXIX + +RELATIONS BETWEEN THE GIRLS AND OURSELVES + +OF the girls Woloda took the strange view that, although he +wished that they should have enough to eat, should sleep well, be +well dressed, and avoid making such mistakes in French as would +shame him before strangers, he would never admit that they could +think or feel like human beings, still less that they could +converse with him sensibly about anything. Whenever they +addressed to him a serious question (a thing, by the way, which +he always tried to avoid), such as asking his opinion on a novel +or inquiring about his doings at the University, he invariably +pulled a grimace, and either turned away without speaking or +answered with some nonsensical French phrase--"Comme c'est tres +jolie!" or the like. Or again, feigning to look serious and +stolidly wise, he would say something absolutely meaningless and +bearing no relation whatever to the question asked him, or else +suddenly exclaim, with a look of pretended unconsciousness, the +word bulku or poyechali or kapustu, [Respectively, " roll of +butter," "away," and " cabbage."] or something of the kind; and +when, afterwards, I happened to repeat these words to him as +having been told me by Lubotshka or Katenka, he would always +remark: + +"Hm! So you actually care about talking to them? I can see you +are a duffer still"--and one needed to see and near him to +appreciate the profound, immutable contempt which echoed in this +remark. He had been grown-up now two years, and was in love with +every good-looking woman that he met; yet, despite the fact that +he came in daily contact with Katenka (who during those two years +had been wearing long dresses, and was growing prettier every +day), the possibility of his falling in love with her never +seemed to enter his head. Whether this proceeded from the fact +that the prosaic recollections of childhood were still too fresh +in his memory, or whether from the aversion which very young +people feel for everything domestic, or whether from the common +human weakness which, at a first encounter with anything fair and +pretty, leads a man to say to himself, "Ah! I shall meet much +more of the same kind during my life," but at all events Woloda +had never yet looked upon Katenka with a man's eyes. + +All that summer Woloda appeared to find things very wearisome--a +fact which arose out of that contempt for us all which, as I have +said, he made no effort to conceal. His expression of face seemed +to be constantly saying, "Phew! how it bores me to have no one to +speak to!" The first thing in the morning he would go out +shooting, or sit reading a book in his room, and not dress until +luncheon time. Indeed, if Papa was not at home, he would take his +book into that meal, and go on reading it without addressing so +much as a single word to any one of us, who felt, somehow, guilty +in his presence. In the evening, too, he would stretch himself on +a settee in the drawing-room, and either go to sleep, propped on +his elbow, or tell us farcical stories--sometimes stories so +improper as to make Mimi grow angry and blush, and ourselves die +with laughter. At other times he would not condescend to address +a single serious word to any member of the family except Papa or +(occasionally) myself. Involuntarily I offended against his view +of girls, seeing that I was not so afraid of seeming affectionate +as he, and, moreover, had not such a profound and confirmed +contempt for young women. Yet several times that summer, when +driven by lack of amusement to try and engage Lubotshka and +Katenka in conversation, I always encountered in them such an +absence of any capacity for logical thinking, and such an +ignorance of the simplest, most ordinary matters (as, for +instance, the nature of money, the subjects studied at +universities, the effect of war, and so forth), as well as such +indifference to my explanations of such matters, that these +attempts of mine only ended in confirming my unfavourable opinion +of feminine ability. + +I remember one evening when Lubotshka kept repeating some +unbearably tedious passage on the piano about a hundred times in +succession, while Woloda, who was dozing on a settee in the +drawing-room, kept addressing no one in particular as +he muttered, "Lord! how she murders it! WHAT a musician! WHAT a +Beethoven!" (he always pronounced the composer's name with +especial irony). "Wrong again! Now--a second time! That's it!" +and so on. Meanwhile Katenka and I were sitting by the tea-table, +and somehow she began to talk about her favourite subject--love. +I was in the right frame of mind to philosophise, and began by +loftily defining love as the wish to acquire in another what one +does not possess in oneself. To this Katenka retorted that, on +the contrary, love is not love at all if a girl desires to marry +a man for his money alone, but that, in her opinion, riches were +a vain thing, and true love only the affection which can stand +the test of separation (this I took to be a hint concerning her +love for Dubkoff). At this point Woloda, who must have been +listening all the time, raised himself on his elbow, and cried +out some rubbish or another; and I felt that he was right. + +Apart from the general faculties (more or less developed in +different persons) of intellect, sensibility, and artistic +feeling, there also exists (more or less developed in different +circles of society, and especially in families) a private or +individual faculty which I may call APPREHENSION. The essence of +this faculty lies in sympathetic appreciation of proportion, and +in identical understanding of things. Two individuals who possess +this faculty and belong to the same social circle or the same +family apprehend an expression of feeling precisely to the same +point, namely, the point beyond which such expression becomes +mere phrasing. Thus they apprehend precisely where commendation +ends and irony begins, where attraction ends and pretence begins, +in a manner which would be impossible for persons possessed of a +different order of apprehension. Persons possessed of identical +apprehension view objects in an identically ludicrous, beautiful, +or repellent light; and in order to facilitate such identical +apprehension between members of the same social circle or family, +they usually establish a language, turns of speech, or terms to +define such shades of apprehension as exist for them alone. In +our particular family such apprehension was common to Papa, +Woloda, and myself, and was developed to the highest pitch, +Dubkoff also approximated to our coterie in apprehension, but +Dimitri, though infinitely more intellectual than Dubkoff, was +grosser in this respect. With no one, however, did I bring this +faculty to such a point as with Woloda, who had grown up with me +under identical conditions. Papa stood a long way from us, and +much that was to us as clear as "two and two make four" was to +him incomprehensible. For instance, I and Woloda managed to +establish between ourselves the following terms, with meanings to +correspond. Izium [Raisins.] meant a desire to boast of one's +money; shishka [Bump or swelling.] (on pronouncing which one had +to join one's fingers together, and to put a particular emphasis +upon the two sh's in the word) meant anything fresh, healthy, and +comely, but not elegant; a substantive used in the plural meant +an undue partiality for the object which it denoted; and so +forth, and so forth. At the same time, the meaning depended +considerably upon the expression of the face and the context of +the conversation; so that, no matter what new expression one of +us might invent to define a shade of feeling the other could +immediately understand it by a hint alone. The girls did not +share this faculty of apprehension, and herein lay the chief +cause of our moral estrangement, and of the contempt which we +felt for them. + +It may be that they too had their "apprehension," but it so +little ran with ours that, where we already perceived the +"phrasing," they still saw only the feeling--our irony was for +them truth, and so on. At that time I had not yet learnt to +understand that they were in no way to blame for this, and that +absence of such apprehension in no way prevented them from being +good and clever girls. Accordingly I looked down upon them. +Moreover, having once lit upon my precious idea of "frankness," +and being bent upon applying it to the full in myself, I thought +the quiet, confiding nature of Lubotshka guilty of secretiveness +and dissimulation simply because she saw no necessity for digging +up and examining all her thoughts and instincts. For instance, +the fact that she always signed the sign of the cross over Papa +before going to bed, that she and Katenka invariably wept in +church when attending requiem masses for Mamma, and that Katenka +sighed and rolled her eyes about when playing the piano--all +these things seemed to me sheer make-believe, and I asked myself: +"At what period did they learn to pretend like grown-up people, +and how can they bring themselves to do it?" + +XXX + +HOW I EMPLOYED MY TIME + +Nevertheless, the fact that that summer I developed a passion for +music caused me to become better friends with the ladies of our +household than I had been for years. In the spring, a young fellow +came to see us, armed with a letter of introduction, who, as soon +as ever he entered the drawing-room, fixed his eyes upon the +piano, and kept gradually edging his chair closer to it as he +talked to Mimi and Katenka. After discoursing awhile of the +weather and the amenities of country life, he skilfully directed +the conversation to piano-tuners, music, and pianos generally, +and ended by saying that he himself played--and in truth he did +sit down and perform three waltzes, with Mimi, Lubotshka, and +Katenka grouped about the instrument, and watching him as he did +so. He never came to see us again, but his playing, and his +attitude when at the piano, and the way in which he kept shaking +his long hair, and, most of all, the manner in which he was able +to execute octaves with his left hand as he first of all played +them rapidly with his thumb and little finger, and then slowly +closed those members, and then played the octaves afresh, made a +great impression upon me. This graceful gesture of his, together +with his easy pose and his shaking of hair and successful winning +of the ladies' applause by his talent, ended by firing me to take +up the piano. Convinced that I possessed both talent and a +passion for music, I set myself to learn, and, in doing so, acted +just as millions of the male--still more, of the female--sex have +done who try to teach themselves without a skilled instructor, +without any real turn for the art, or without the smallest +understanding either of what the art can give or of what ought to +be done to obtain that gift. For me music (or rather, piano- +playing) was simply a means of winning the ladies' good graces +through their sensibility. With the help of Katenka I first +learnt the notes (incidentally breaking several of them with my +clumsy fingers), and then--that is to say, after two months of +hard work, supplemented by ceaseless twiddling of my rebellious +fingers on my knees after luncheon, and on the pillow when in +bed--went on to "pieces," which I played (so Katenka assured me) +with "soul" ("avec ame"), but altogether regardless of time. + +My range of pieces was the usual one--waltzes, galops, +"romances," "arrangements," etcetera; all of them of the class of +delightful compositions of which any one with a little healthy +taste could point out a selection among the better class works +contained in any volume of music and say, "These are what you +ought NOT to play, seeing that anything worse, less tasteful, and +more silly has never yet been included in any collection of +music,"--but which (probably for that very reason) are to be +found on the piano of every Russian lady. True, we also possessed +an unfortunate volume which contained Beethoven's "Sonate +Pathetique" and the C minor Sonata (a volume lamed for life by +the ladies--more especially by Lubotshka, who used to discourse +music from it in memory of Mamma), as well as certain other good +pieces which her teacher in Moscow had given her; but among that +collection there were likewise compositions of the teacher's own, +in the shape of clumsy marches and galops--and these too +Lubotshka used to play! Katenka and I cared nothing for serious +works, but preferred, above all things, "Le Fou" and "The +Nightingale"--the latter of which Katenka would play until her +fingers almost became invisible, and which I too was beginning +to execute with much vigour and some continuity. I had adopted the +gestures of the young man of whom I have spoken, and frequently +regretted that there were no strangers present to see me play. +Soon, however, I began to realise that Liszt and Kalkbrenner were +beyond me, and that I should never overtake Katenka. +Accordingly, imagining that classical music was easier (as well +as, partly, for the sake of originality), I suddenly came to the +conclusion that I loved abstruse German music. I began to go into +raptures whenever Lubotshka played the "Sonate Pathetique," and +although (if the truth be told) that work had for years driven me +to the verge of distraction, I set myself to play Beethoven, and +to talk of him as "Beethoven." Yet through all this chopping and +changing and pretence (as I now conceive) there may have run in +me a certain vein of talent, since music sometimes affected me +even to tears, and things which particularly pleased me I could +strum on the piano afterwards (in a certain fashion) without the +score; so that, had any one taught me at that period to look upon +music as an end, a grace, in itself, and not merely as a means +for pleasing womenfolk with the velocity and pseudo-sentiment of +one's playing, I might possibly have become a passable musician. + +The reading of French novels (of which Woloda had brought +a large store with him from Moscow) was another of my amusements +that summer. At that period Monte Cristo and Taine's works had +just appeared, while I also revelled in stories by Sue, Dumas, +and Paul de Kock. Even their most unnatural personages and events +were for me as real as actuality, and not only was I incapable of +suspecting an author of lying, but, in my eyes, there existed no +author at all. That is to say, the various personages and events +of a book paraded themselves before me on the printed page as +personages and events that were alive and real; and although I +had never in my life met such characters as I there read about, I +never for a second doubted that I should one day do so. I +discovered in myself all the passions described in every novel, +as well as a likeness to all the characters--heroes and villains +impartially--who figured therein, just as a suspicious man finds +in himself the signs of every possible disease when reading a +book on medicine. I took pleasure both in the cunning designs, +the glowing sentiments, the tumultuous events, and the character- +drawing of these works. A good man was of the goodness, a bad man +of the badness, possible only to the imagination of early youth. +Likewise I found great pleasure in the fact that it was all +written in French, and that I could lay to heart the fine words +which the fine heroes spoke, and recall them for use some day +when engaged in some noble deed. What quantities of French +phrases I culled from those books for Kolpikoff's benefit if I +should ever meet him again, as well as for HERS, when at length I +should find her and reveal to her my love! For them both I +prepared speeches which should overcome them as soon as spoken! +Upon novels, too, I founded new ideals of the moral qualities +which I wished to attain. First of all, I wished to be NOBLE in +all my deeds and conduct (I use the French word noble instead of +the Russian word blagorodni for the reason that the former has a +different meaning to the latter--as the Germans well understood +when they adopted noble as nobel and differentiated it from +ehrlich); next, to be strenuous; and lastly, to be what I was +already inclined to be, namely, comme il faut. I even tried to +approximate my appearance and bearing to that of the heroes who +possessed these qualities. In particular I remember how in one of +the hundred or so novels which I read that summer there was a +very strenuous hero with heavy eyebrows, and that I so greatly +wished to resemble him (I felt that I did so already from a moral +point of view) that one day, when looking at my eyebrows in the +glass, I conceived the idea of clipping them, in order to make +them grow bushier. Unfortunately, after I had started to do so, I +happened to clip one spot rather shorter than the rest, and so +had to level down the rest to it-with the result that, to my +horror, I beheld myself eyebrow-less, and anything but +presentable. However, I comforted myself with the reflection that +my eyebrows would soon sprout again as bushy as my hero's, and +was only perplexed to think how I could explain the circumstance +to the household when they next perceived my eyebrow-less +condition. Accordingly I borrowed some gunpowder from Woloda, +rubbed it on my temples, and set it alight. The powder did not +fire properly, but I succeeded in singeing myself sufficiently to +avert all suspicion of my pranks. And, indeed, afterwards, when I +had forgotten all about my hero, my eyebrows grew again, and much +thicker than they had been before. + +XXXI + +"COMME IL FAUT" + +SEVERAL times in the course of this narrative I have hinted at an +idea corresponding to the above French heading, and now feel it +incumbent upon me to devote a whole chapter to that idea, which +was one of the most ruinous, lying notions which ever became +engrafted upon my life by my upbringing and social milieu. + +The human race may be divided into several categories--rich and +poor, good and bad, military and civilian, clever and stupid, and +so forth, and so forth. Yet each man has his own favourite, +fundamental system of division which he unconsciously uses to +class each new person with whom he meets. At the time of which I +am speaking, my own favourite, fundamental system of division in +this respect was into people "comme il faut" and people "comme il +ne faut pas"--the latter subdivided, again, into people merely not +"comme il faut" and the lower orders. People "comme il faut" I +respected, and looked upon as worthy to consort with me as my +equals; the second of the above categories I pretended merely to +despise, but in reality hated, and nourished towards them a kind +of feeling of offended personality; while the third category had +no existence at all, so far as I was concerned, since my contempt +for them was too complete. This "comme il faut"-ness of mine lay, +first and foremost, in proficiency in French, especially +conversational French. A person who spoke that language badly at +once aroused in me a feeling of dislike. "Why do you try to talk +as we do when you haven't a notion how to do it?" I would seem to +ask him with my most venomous and quizzing smile. The second +condition of "comme il faut"-ness was long nails that were well +kept and clean; the third, ability to bow, dance, and converse; +the fourth--and a very important one--indifference to everything, +and a constant air of refined, supercilious ennui. Moreover, +there were certain general signs which, I considered, enabled me +to tell, without actually speaking to a man, the class to which +he belonged. Chief among these signs (the others being the +fittings of his rooms, his gloves, his handwriting, his turn-out, +and so forth) were his feet. The relation of boots to trousers +was sufficient to determine, in my eyes, the social status of a +man. Heelless boots with angular toes, wedded to narrow, +unstrapped trouser-ends--these denoted the vulgarian. Boots with +narrow, round toes and heels, accompanied either by tight +trousers strapped under the instep and fitting close to the leg +or by wide trousers similarly strapped, but projecting in a peak +over the toe--these meant the man of mauvais genre; and so on, and +so on. + +It was a curious thing that I who lacked all ability to become +"comme il faut," should have assimilated the idea so completely +as I did. Possibly it was the fact that it had cost me such +enormous labour to acquire that brought about its strenuous +development in my mind. I hardly like to think how much of the +best and most valuable time of my first sixteen years of +existence I wasted upon its acquisition. Yet every one whom I +imitated--Woloda, Dubkoff, and the majority of my acquaintances-- +seemed to acquire it easily. I watched them with envy, and +silently toiled to become proficient in French, to bow gracefully +and without looking at the person whom I was saluting, to gain +dexterity in small-talk and dancing, to cultivate indifference +and ennui, and to keep my fingernails well trimmed (though I +frequently cut my finger-ends with the scissors in so doing). And +all the time I felt that so much remained to be done if I was +ever to attain my end! A room, a writing-table, an equipage I +still found it impossible to arrange "comme il faut," however +much I fought down my aversion to practical matters in my desire +to become proficient. Yet everything seemed to arrange itself +properly with other people, just as though things could never +have been otherwise! Once I remember asking Dubkoff, after much +zealous and careful labouring at my finger-nails (his own were +extraordinarily good), whether his nails had always been as now, +or whether he had done anything to make them so: to which he +replied that never within his recollection had he done anything +to them, and that he could not imagine a gentleman's nails +possibly being different. This answer incensed me greatly, for I +had not yet learnt that one of the chief conditions of "comme il +faut"-ness was to hold one's tongue about the labour by which it +had been acquired. "Comme il faut"-ness I looked upon as not only +a great merit, a splendid accomplishment, an embodiment of all +the perfection which must strive to attain, but as the one +indispensable condition without which there could never be +happiness, nor glory, nor any good whatsoever in this world. Even +the greatest artist or savant or benefactor of the human race +would at that time have won from me no respect if he had not also +been "comme il faut." A man possessed of "comme il faut"-ness +stood higher than, and beyond all possible equality with, such +people, and might well leave it to them to paint pictures, to +compose music, to write books, or to do good. Possibly he might +commend them for so doing (since why should not merit be +commended where-ever it be found?), but he could never stand ON A +LEVEL with them, seeing that he was "comme il faut" and they were +not--a quite final and sufficient reason. In fact, I actually +believe that, had we possessed a brother or a father or a mother +who had not been "comme il faut," I should have declared it to be +a great misfortune for us, and announced that between myself and +them there could never be anything in common. Yet neither waste +of the golden hours which I consumed in constantly endeavouring +to observe the many arduous, unattainable conditions of "comme il +faut"-ness (to the exclusion of any more serious pursuit), nor +dislike of and contempt for nine-tenths of the human race, nor +disregard of all the beauty that lay outside the narrow circle of +"comme il faut"-ness comprised the whole of the evil which the +idea wrought in me. The chief evil of all lay in the notion +acquired that a man need not strive to become a tchinovnik, +[Official.] a coachbuilder, a soldier, a savant, or anything +useful, so long only as he was "comme il faut "--that by attaining +the latter quality he had done all that was demanded of him, and +was even superior to most people. + +Usually, at a given period in youth, and after many errors and +excesses, every man recognises the necessity of his taking an +active part in social life, and chooses some branch of labour to +which to devote himself. Only with the "comme il faut" man does +this rarely happen. I have known, and know, very, very many +people--old, proud, self-satisfied, and opinionated--who to the +question (if it should ever present itself to them in their +world) "Who have you been, and what have you ever done?" would be +unable to reply otherwise than by saying, + +"Je fus un homme tres comme il faut," + +Such a fate was awaiting myself. + +XXXII + +YOUTH + +Despite the confusion of ideas raging in my head, I was at least +young, innocent, and free that summer--consequently almost happy. + +Sometimes I would rise quite early in the morning, for I slept on +the open verandah, and the bright, horizontal beams of the +morning sun would wake me up. Dressing myself quickly, I would +tuck a towel and a French novel under my arm, and go off to bathe +in the river in the shade of a birch tree which stood half a +verst from the house. Next, I would stretch myself on the grass +and read--raising my eyes from time to time to look at the surface +of the river where it showed blue in the shade of the trees, at +the ripples caused by the first morning breeze, at the yellowing +field of rye on the further bank, and at the bright-red sheen of +the sunlight as it struck lower and lower down the white trunks +of the birch-trees which, ranged in ranks one behind the other, +gradually receded into the remote distance of the home park. At +such moments I would feel joyously conscious of having within me +the same young, fresh force of life as nature was everywhere +exuding around me. When, however, the sky was overcast with grey +clouds of morning and I felt chilly after bathing, I would often +start to walk at random through the fields and woods, and +joyously trail my wet boots in the fresh dew. All the while my +head would be filled with vivid dreams concerning the heroes of +my last-read novel, and I would keep picturing to myself some +leader of an army or some statesman or marvellously strong man or +devoted lover or another, and looking round me in, a nervous +expectation that I should suddenly descry HER somewhere near me, +in a meadow or behind a tree. Yet, whenever these rambles led me +near peasants engaged at their work, all my ignoring of the +existence of the "common people" did not prevent me from +experiencing an involuntary, overpowering sensation of +awkwardness; so that I always tried to avoid their seeing me. +When the heat of the day had increased, it was not infrequently my +habit--if the ladies did not come out of doors for their morning +tea--to go rambling through the orchard and kitchen-garden, and to +pluck ripe fruit there. Indeed, this was an occupation which +furnished me with one of my greatest pleasures. Let any one go +into an orchard, and dive into the midst of a tall, thick, +sprouting raspberry-bed. Above will be seen the clear, glowing +sky, and, all around, the pale-green, prickly stems of raspberry- +trees where they grow mingled together in a tangle of profusion. +At one's feet springs the dark-green nettle, with its slender +crown of flowers, while the broad-leaved burdock, with its +bright-pink, prickly blossoms, overtops the raspberries (and even +one's head) with its luxuriant masses, until, with the nettle, it +almost meets the pendent, pale-green branches of the old apple- +trees where apples, round and lustrous as bone, but as yet +unripe, are mellowing in the heat of the sun. Below, again, are +seen young raspberry-shoots, twining themselves around the +partially withered, leafless parent plant, and stretching their +tendrils towards the sunlight, with green, needle-shaped blades +of grass and young, dew-coated pods peering through last year's +leaves, and growing juicily green in the perennial shade, as +though they care nothing for the bright sunshine which is playing +on the leaves of the apple-trees above them. In this density +there is always moisture--always a smell of confined, perpetual +shade, of cobwebs, fallen apples (turning black where they roll +on the mouldy sod), raspberries, and earwigs of the kind which +impel one to reach hastily for more fruit when one has +inadvertently swallowed a member of that insect tribe with the +last berry. At every step one's movements keep flushing the +sparrows which always make their home in these depths, and one +hears their fussy chirping and the beating of their tiny, +fluttering wings against the stalks, and catches the low buzzing +of a bumble bee somewhere, and the sound of the gardener's +footsteps (it is half-daft Akim) on the path as he hums his +eternal sing-song to himself. Then one mutters under one's +breath, "No! Neither he nor any one else shall find me here!" yet +still one goes on stripping juicy berries from their conical +white pilasters, and cramming them into one's mouth. At length, +one's legs soaked to the knees as one repeats, over and over +again, some rubbish which keeps running +in one's head, and one's hands and nether limbs (despite the +protection of one's wet trousers) thoroughly stung with the +nettles, one comes to the conclusion that the sun's rays are +beating too straight upon one's head for eating to be any longer +desirable, and, sinking down into the tangle of greenery, one +remains there--looking and listening, and continuing in +mechanical fashion to strip off one or two of the finer berries +and swallow them. + +At eleven o'clock--that is to say, when the ladies had taken +their morning tea and settled down to their occupations--I would +repair to the drawing-room. Near the first window, with its +unbleached linen blind lowered to exclude the sunshine, but +through the chink of which the sun kept throwing brilliant +circles of light which hurt the eye to look at them, there would +be standing a screen, with flies quietly parading the whiteness +of its covering. Behind it would be seated Mimi, shaking her head +in an irritable manner, and constantly shifting from spot to spot +to avoid the sunshine as at intervals it darted her from +somewhere and laid a streak of flame upon her hand or face. +Through the other three windows the sun would be throwing three +squares of light, crossed with the shadows of the window-frames, +and where one of these patches marked the unstained floor of the +room there would be lying, in accordance with invariable custom, +Milka, with her ears pricked as she watched the flies promenading +the lighted space. Seated on a settee, Katenka would be knitting +or reading aloud as from time to time she gave her white sleeves +(looking almost transparent in the sunshine) an impatient shake, +or tossed her head with a frown to drive away some fly which had +settled upon her thick auburn hair and was now buzzing in its +tangles. Lubotshka would either be walking up and down the room +(her hands clasped behind her) until the moment should arrive +when a movement would be made towards the garden, or playing some +piece of which every note had long been familiar to me. For my +own part, I would sit down somewhere, and listen to the music or +the reading until such time as I myself should have an +opportunity of performing on the piano. After luncheon I would +condescend to take the girls out riding (since to go for a mere +walk at that hour seemed to me unsuitable to my years and +position in the world), and these excursions of ours--in which I +often took my companions through unaccustomed spots and dells-- +were very pleasant. Indeed, on some of these occasions I grew +quite boyish, and the girls would praise my riding and daring, +and pretend that I was their protector. In the evening, if we had +no guests with us, tea (served in the dim verandah),would be +followed by a walk round the homestead with Papa, and then I +would stretch myself on my usual settee, and read and ponder as +of old, as I listened to Katenka or Lubotshka playing. At other +times, if I was alone in the drawing-room and Lubotshka was +performing some old-time air, I would find myself laying my book +down, and gazing through the open doorway on to the balcony at +the pendent, sinuous branches of the tall birch-trees where they +stood overshadowed by the coming night, and at the clear sky +where, if one looked at it intently enough, misty, yellowish +spots would appear suddenly, and then disappear again. Next, as I +listened to the sounds of the music wafted from the salon, and to +the creaking of gates and the voices of the peasant women when +the cattle returned to the village, I would suddenly bethink me +of Natalia Savishna and of Mamma and of Karl Ivanitch, and become +momentarily sad. But in those days my spirit was so full of life +and hope that such reminiscences only touched me in passing, and +soon fled away again. + +After supper and (sometimes) a night stroll with some one in the +garden (for I was afraid to walk down the dark avenues by +myself), I would repair to my solitary sleeping-place on the +verandah--a proceeding which, despite the countless mosquitos +which always devoured me, afforded me the greatest pleasure. If +the moon was full, I frequently spent whole nights sitting up on +my mattress, looking at the light and shade, listening to the +sounds or stillness, dreaming of one matter and another (but more +particularly of the poetic, voluptuous happiness which, in those +days, I believed was to prove the acme of my felicity) and +lamenting that until now it had only been given to me to IMAGINE +things. No sooner had every one dispersed, and I had seen lights +pass from the drawing-room to the upper chambers (whence female +voices would presently be heard, and the noise of windows opening +and shutting), than I would depart to the verandah, and walk up +and down there as I listened attentively to the sounds from the +slumbering mansion. To this day, whenever I feel any expectation +(no matter how small and baseless) of realising a fraction of +some happiness of which I may be dreaming, I somehow invariably +fail to picture to myself what the imagined happiness is going to +be like. + +At the least sound of bare footsteps, or of a cough, or of a +snore, or of the rattling of a window, or of the rustling of a +dress, I would leap from my mattress, and stand furtively gazing +and listening, thrown, without any visible cause, into extreme +agitation. But the lights would disappear from the upper rooms, +the sounds of footsteps and talking give place to snores, the +watchman begin his nightly tapping with his stick, the garden +grow brighter and more mysterious as the streaks of light +vanished from the windows, the last candle pass from the pantry +to the hall (throwing a glimmer into the dewy garden as it did +so), and the stooping figure of Foka (decked in a nightcap, and +carrying the candle) become visible to my eyes as he went to his +bed. Often I would find a great and fearful pleasure in stealing +over the grass, in the black shadow of the house, until I had +reached the hall window, where I would stand listening with bated +breath to the snoring of the boy, to Foka's gruntings (in the +belief that no one heard him), and to the sound of his senile +voice as he drawled out the evening prayers. At length even his +candle would be extinguished, and the window slammed down, so +that I would find myself utterly alone; whereupon, glancing +nervously from side to side, lest haply I should see the white +woman standing near a flower-bed or by my couch, I would run at +full speed back to the verandah. Then, and only then, I would lie +down with my face to the garden, and, covering myself over, so +far as possible, from the mosquitos and bats, fall to gazing in +front of me as I listened to the sounds of the night and dreamed +of love and happiness. + +At such times everything would take on for me a different +meaning. The look of the old birch trees, with the one side of +their curling branches showing bright against the moonlit sky, +and the other darkening the bushes and carriage-drive with their +black shadows; the calm, rich glitter of the pond, ever swelling +like a sound; the moonlit sparkle of the dewdrops on the flowers +in front of the verandah; the graceful shadows of those flowers +where they lay thrown upon the grey stonework; the cry of a quail +on the far side of the pond; the voice of some one walking on the +high road; the quiet, scarcely audible scrunching of two old +birch trees against one another; the humming of a mosquito at my +car under the coverlet; the fall of an apple as it caught against +a branch and rustled among the dry leaves; the leapings of frogs +as they approached almost to the verandah-steps arid sat with the +moon shining mysteriously on their green backs--all these things +took on for me a strange significance--a significance of +exceeding beauty and of infinite love. Before me would rise SHE, +with long black tresses and a high bust, but always mournful in +her fairness, with bare hands and voluptuous arms. She loved me, +and for one moment of her love I would sacrifice my whole life!-- +But the moon would go on rising higher and higher, and shining +brighter and brighter, in the heavens; the rich sparkle of the +pond would swell like a sound, and become ever more and more +brilliant, while the shadows would grow blacker and blacker, and +the sheen of the moon more and more transparent: until, as I +looked at and listened to all this, something would say to me +that SHE with the bare hands and voluptuous arms did not +represent ALL happiness, that love for her did not represent ALL +good; so that, the more I gazed at the full, high-riding moon, +the higher would true beauty and goodness appear to me to lie, +and the purer and purer they would seem--the nearer and nearer to +Him who is the source of all beauty and all goodness. And tears +of a sort of unsatisfied, yet tumultuous, joy would fill my eyes. + +Always, too, I was alone; yet always, too, it seemed to me that, +although great, mysterious Nature could draw the shining disc of +the moon to herself, and somehow hold in some high, indefinite +place the pale-blue sky, and be everywhere around me, and fill of +herself the infinity of space, while I was but a lowly worm, +already defiled with the poor, petty passions of humanity--always +it seemed to me that, nevertheless, both Nature and the moon and +I were one. + +XXXIII + +OUR NEIGHBOURS + +ON the first day after our arrival, I had been greatly astonished +that Papa should speak of our neighbours, the Epifanovs, as "nice +people," and still more so that he should go to call upon them. +The fact was that we had long been at law over some land with +this family. When a child, I had more than once heard Papa raging +over the litigation, abusing the Epifanovs, and warning people +(so I understood him) against them. Likewise, I had heard Jakoff +speak of them as "our enemies" and "black people" and could +remember Mamma requesting that their names should never be +mentioned in her presence, nor, indeed, in the house at all. + +From these data I, as a child, had arrived at the clear and assured +conviction that the Epifanovs were foemen of ours who would at +any time stab or strangle both Papa and his sons if they should +ever come across them, as well as that they were "black people", +in the literal sense of the term. Consequently, when, in the year +that Mamma died, I chanced to catch sight of Avdotia ("La Belle +Flamande") on the occasion of a visit which she paid to my +mother, I found it hard to believe that she did not come of a +family of negroes. All the same, I had the lowest possible +opinion of the family, and, for all that we saw much of them that +summer, continued to be strongly prejudiced against them. As a +matter of fact, their household only consisted of the mother (a +widow of fifty, but a very well-preserved, cheery old woman), a +beautiful daughter named Avdotia, and a son, Peter, who was a +stammerer, unmarried, and of very serious disposition. + +For the last twenty years before her husband's death, Madame +Epifanov had lived apart from him--sometimes in St. Petersburg, +where she had relatives, but more frequently at her village of +Mitishtchi, which stood some three versts from ours. Yet the +neighbourhood had taken to circulating such horrible tales +concerning her mode of life that Messalina was, by comparison, a +blameless child: which was why my mother had requested her name +never to be mentioned. As a matter of fact, not one-tenth part of +the most cruel of all gossip--the gossip of country-houses--is +worthy of credence; and although, when I first made Madame's +acquaintance, she had living with her in the house a clerk named +Mitusha, who had been promoted from a serf, and who, curled, +pomaded, and dressed in a frockcoat of Circassian pattern, always +stood behind his mistress's chair at luncheon, while from time to +time she invited her guests to admire his handsome eyes and +mouth, there was nothing for gossip to take hold of. I believe, +too, that since the time--ten years earlier--when she had recalled +her dutiful son Peter from the service, she had wholly changed +her mode of living. It seems her property had never been a large +one--merely a hundred souls or so--[This refers, of course, to the +days of serfdom.]and that during her previous life of gaiety she +had spent a great deal. Consequently, when, some ten years ago, +those portions of the property which had been mortgaged and re- +mortgaged had been foreclosed upon and compulsorily sold by +auction, she had come to the conclusion that all these unpleasant +details of distress upon and valuation of her property had been +due not so much to failure to pay the interest as to the fact +that she was a woman: wherefore she had written to her son (then +serving with his regiment) to come and save his mother from her +embarrassments, and he, like a dutiful son--conceiving that his +first duty was to comfort his mother in her old age--had +straightway resigned his commission (for all that he had been +doing well in his profession, and was hoping soon to become +independent), and had come to join her in the country. + +Despite his plain face, uncouth demeanour, and fault of +stuttering, Peter was a man of unswerving principles and of the +most extraordinary good sense. Somehow--by small borrowings, +sundry strokes of business, petitions for grace, and promises to +repay--he contrived to carry on the property, and, making himself +overseer, donned his father's greatcoat (still preserved in a +drawer), dispensed with horses and carriages, discouraged guests +from calling at Mitishtchi, fashioned his own sleighs, increased +his arable land and curtailed that of the serfs, felled his own +timber, sold his produce in person, and saw to matters generally. +Indeed, he swore, and kept his oath, that, until all outstanding +debts were paid, he would never wear any clothes than his +father's greatcoat and a corduroy jacket which he had made for +himself, nor yet ride in aught but a country waggon, drawn by +peasants' horses. This stoical mode of life he sought to apply +also to his family, so far as the sympathetic respect which he +conceived to be his mother's due would allow of; so that, +although, in the drawing-room, he would show her only stuttering +servility, and fulfil all her wishes, and blame any one who did +not do precisely as she bid them, in his study or his office he +would overhaul the cook if she had served up so much as a duck +without his orders, or any one responsible for sending a serf +(even though at Madame's own bidding) to inquire after a +neighbour's health or for despatching the peasant girls into the +wood to gather wild raspberries instead of setting them to weed +the kitchen-garden. + +Within four years every debt had been repaid, and Peter had gone +to Moscow and returned thence in a new jacket and tarantass. [A +two-wheeled carriage.] Yet, despite this flourishing position of +affairs, he still preserved the stoical tendencies in which, to +tell the truth, he took a certain vague pride before his family +and strangers, since he would frequently say with a stutter: "Any +one who REALLY wishes to see me will be glad to see me even in my +dressing-gown, and to eat nothing but shtchi [Cabbage-soup.] and +kasha [Buckwheat gruel.] at my table." "That is what I eat +myself," he would add. In his every word and movement spoke pride +based upon a consciousness of having sacrificed himself for his +mother and redeemed the property, as well as contempt for any one +who had not done something of the same kind. + +The mother and daughter were altogether different characters from +Peter, as well as altogether different from one another. The +former was one of the most agreeable, uniformly good-tempered, +and cheerful women whom one could possibly meet. Anything +attractive and genuinely happy delighted her. Even the faculty of +being pleased with the sight of young people enjoying themselves +(it is only in the best-natured of elderly folk that one meets +with that TRAIT) she possessed to the full. On the other hand, +her daughter was of a grave turn of mind. Rather, she was of that +peculiarly careless, absent-minded, gratuitously distant bearing +which commonly distinguishes unmarried beauties. Whenever she +tried to be gay, her gaiety somehow seemed to be unnatural to +her, so that she always appeared to be laughing either at herself +or at the persons to whom she was speaking or at the world in +general--a thing which, possibly, she had no real intention of +doing. Often I asked myself in astonishment what she could mean +when she said something like, "Yes, I know how terribly good- +looking I am," or, "Of course every one is in love with me," and +so forth. Her mother was a person always busy, since she had a +passion for housekeeping, gardening, flowers, canaries, and +pretty trinkets. Her rooms and garden, it is true, were small and +poorly fitted-up, yet everything in them was so neat and +methodical, and bore such a general air of that gentle gaiety +which one hears expressed in a waltz or polka, that the word +"toy" by which guests often expressed their praise of it all +exactly suited her surroundings. She herself was a "toy"--being +petite, slender, fresh-coloured, small, and pretty-handed, and +invariably gay and well-dressed. The only fault in her was that a +slight over-prominence of the dark-blue veins on her little hands +rather marred the general effect of her appearance. On the other +hand, her daughter scarcely ever did anything at all. Not only +had she no love for trifling with flowers and trinkets, but she +neglected her personal exterior, and only troubled to dress +herself well when guests happened to call. Yet, on returning to +the room in society costume, she always looked extremely +handsome--save for that cold, uniform expression of eyes and +smile which is common to all beauties. In fact, her strictly +regular, beautiful face and symmetrical figure always seemed to +be saying to you, "Yes, you may look at me." + +At the same time, for all the mother's liveliness of disposition +and the daughter's air of indifference and abstraction, something +told one that the former was incapable of feeling affection for +anything that was not pretty and gay, but that Avdotia, on the +contrary, was one of those natures which, once they love, are +willing to sacrifice their whole life for the man they adore. + +XXXIV + +MY FATHER'S SECOND MARRIAGE + +MY father was forty-eight when he took as his second wife Avdotia +Vassilievna Epifanov. + +I suspect that when, that spring, he had departed for the country +with the girls, he had been in that communicatively happy, +sociable mood in which gamblers usually find themselves who have +retired from play after winning large stakes. He had felt that he +still had a fortune left to him which, so long as he did not +squander it on gaming, might be used for our advancement in life. +Moreover, it was springtime, he was unexpectedly well supplied +with ready money, he was alone, and he had nothing to do. As he +conversed with Jakoff on various matters, and remembered both the +interminable suit with the Epifanovs and Avdotia's beauty (it was +a long while since he had seen her), I can imagine him saying: +"How do you think we ought to act in this suit, Jakoff? My idea +is simply to let the cursed land go. Eh? What do you think about +it?" I can imagine, too, how, thus interrogated, Jakoff twirled +his fingers behind his back in a deprecatory sort of way, and +proceeded to argue that it all the same, Peter Alexandritch, we +are in the right." Nevertheless, I further conjecture, Papa +ordered the dogcart to be got ready, put on his fashionable +olive-coloured driving-coat, brushed up the remnants of his hair, +sprinkled his clothes with scent, and, greatly pleased to think +that he was acting a la seignior (as well as, even more, +revelling in the prospect of soon seeing a pretty woman), drove +off to visit his neighbours. + +I can imagine, too, that when the flustered housemaid ran to +inform Peter Vassilievitch that Monsieur Irtenieff himself had +called, Peter answered angrily, "Well, what has he come for?" +and, stepping softly about the house, first went into his study +to put on his old soiled jacket, and then sent down word to the +cook that on no account whatever--no, not even if she were +ordered to do so by the mistress herself--was she to add anything +to luncheon. + +Since, later, I often saw Papa with Peter, I can form a very good +idea of this first interview between them. I can imagine that, +despite Papa's proposal to end the suit in a peaceful manner, +Peter was morose and resentful at the thought of having +sacrificed his career to his mother, and at Papa having done +nothing of the kind--a by no means surprising circumstance, Peter +probably said to himself. Next, I can see Papa taking no notice +of this ill-humour, but cracking quips and jests, while Peter +gradually found himself forced to treat him as a humorist with +whom he felt offended one moment and inclined to be reconciled +the next. Indeed, with his instinct for making fun of everything, +Papa often used to address Peter as "Colonel;" and though I can +remember Peter once replying, with an unusually violent stutter +and his face scarlet with indignation, that he had never been a +c-c-colonel, but only a l-l-lieutenant, Papa called him "Colonel" +again before another five minutes were out. + +Lubotshka told me that, up to the time of Woloda's and my arrival +from Moscow, there had been daily meetings with the Epifanovs, +and that things had been very lively, since Papa, who had a +genius for arranging, everything with a touch of originality and +wit, as well as in a simple and refined manner, had devised +shooting and fishing parties and fireworks for the Epifanovs' +benefit. All these festivities--so said Lubotshka--would have +gone off splendidly but for the intolerable Peter, who had spoilt +everything by his puffing and stuttering. After our coming, +however, the Epifanovs only visited us twice, and we went once to +their house, while after St. Peter's Day (on which, it being +Papa's nameday, the Epifanovs called upon us in common with a +crowd of other guests) our relations with that family came +entirely to an end, and, in future, only Papa went to see them. + +During the brief period when I had opportunities of seeing Papa +and Dunetchka (as her mother called Avdotia) together, this is +what I remarked about them. Papa remained unceasingly in the same +buoyant mood as had so greatly struck me on the day after our +arrival. So gay and youthful and full of life and happy did he +seem that the beams of his felicity extended themselves to all +around him, and involuntarily communicated to them a similar +frame of mind. He never stirred from Avdotia's side so long as +she was in the room, but either kept on plying her with sugary- +sweet compliments which made me feel ashamed for him or, with his +gaze fixed upon her with an air at once passionate and +complacent, sat hitching his shoulder and coughing as from time +to time he smiled and whispered something in her ear. Yet +throughout he wore the same expression of raillery as was +peculiar to him even in the most serious matters. + +As a rule, Avdotia herself seemed to catch the infection of the +happiness which sparkled at this period in Papa's large blue +eyes; yet there were moments also when she would be seized with +such a fit of shyness that I, who knew the feeling well, was full +of sympathy and compassion as I regarded her embarrassment. At +moments of this kind she seemed to be afraid of every glance and +every movement--to be supposing that every one was looking at her, +every one thinking of no one but her, and that unfavourably. She +would glance timidly from one person to another, the colour +coming and going in her cheeks, and then begin to talk loudly and +defiantly, but, for the most part, nonsense; until presently, +realising this, and supposing that Papa and every one else had +heard her, she would blush more painfully than ever. Yet Papa +never noticed her nonsense, for he was too much taken up with +coughing and with gazing at her with his look of happy, +triumphant devotion. I noticed, too, that, although these fits of +shyness attacked Avdotia, without any visible cause, they not +infrequently ensued upon Papa's mention of one or another young +and beautiful woman. Frequent transitions from depression to that +strange, awkward gaiety of hers to which I have referred before. +the repetition of favourite words and turns of speech of Papa's; +the continuation of discussions with others which Papa had +already begun--all these things, if my father had not been the +principal actor in the matter and I had been a little older, +would have explained to me the relations subsisting between him +and Avdotia. At the time, however, I never surmised them--no, not +even when Papa received from her brother Peter a letter which so +upset him that not again until the end of August did he go to +call upon the Epifanovs'. Then, however, he began his visits once +more, and ended by informing us, on the day before Woloda and I +were to return to Moscow, that he was about to take Avdotia +Vassilievna Epifanov to be his wife. + +XXXV + +HOW WE RECEIVED THE NEWS + +Yet, even on the eve of the official announcement, every one had +learnt of the matter, and was discussing it. Mimi never left her +room that day, and wept copiously. Katenka kept her company, and +only came out for luncheon, with a grieved expression on her face +which was manifestly borrowed from her mother. Lubotshka, on the +contrary, was very cheerful, and told us after luncheon that she +knew of a splendid secret which she was going to tell no one. + +"There is nothing so splendid about your secret," said Woloda, +who did not in the least share her satisfaction. "If you were +capable of any serious thought at all, you would understand that +it is a very bad lookout for us." + +Lubotshka stared at him in amazement, and said no more. After the +meal was over, Woloda made a feint of taking me by the arm, and +then, fearing that this would seem too much like "affection," +nudged me gently by the elbow, and beckoned me towards the salon. + +"You know, I suppose, what the secret is of which Lubotshka was +speaking?" he said when he was sure that we were alone. It was +seldom that he and I spoke together in confidence: with the +result that, whenever it came about, we felt a kind of +awkwardness in one another's presence, and "boys began to jump +about" in our eyes, as Woloda expressed it. On the present +occasion, however, he answered the excitement in my eyes with a +grave, fixed look which said: "You need not be surprised, for we +are brothers, and we have to consider an important family +matter." I understood him, and he went on: + +"You know, I suppose, that Papa is going to marry Avdotia +Epifanov?" + +I nodded, for I had already heard so. "Well, it is not a good +thing," continued Woloda. + +"Why so?" + +"Why?" he repeated irritably. "Because it will be so pleasant, +won't it, to have this stuttering 'colonel' and all his family +for relations! Certainly she seems nice enough, as yet; but who +knows what she will turn out to be later? It won't matter much to +you or myself, but Lubotshka will soon be making her debut, and +it will hardly be nice for her to have such a 'belle mere' as +this--a woman who speaks French badly, and has no manners to +teach her." + +Although it seemed odd to hear Woloda criticising Papa's choice +so coolly, I felt that he was right. + +"Why is he marrying her?" I asked. + +"Oh, it is a hole-and-corner business, and God only knows why," +he answered. "All I know is that her brother, Peter, tried to +make conditions about the marriage, and that, although at first +Papa would not hear of them, he afterwards took some fancy or +knight-errantry or another into his head. But, as I say, it is a +hole-and-corner business. I am only just beginning to understand +my father "--the fact that Woloda called Papa "my father" instead +of "Papa" somehow hurt me--"and though I can see that he is kind +and clever, he is irresponsible and frivolous to a degree that-- +Well, the whole thing is astonishing. He cannot so much as look +upon a woman calmly. You yourself know how he falls in love with +every one that he meets. You know it, and so does Mimi." + +"What do you mean?" I said. + +"What I say. Not long ago I learnt that he used to be in love +with Mimi herself when he was a young man, and that he used to +send her poetry, and that there really was something between +them. Mimi is heart-sore about it to this day"--and Woloda burst +out laughing. + +"Impossible!" I cried in astonishment. + +"But the principal thing at this moment," went on Woloda, +becoming serious again, and relapsing into French, "is to think +how delighted all our relations will be with this marriage! Why, +she will probably have children!" + +Woloda's prudence and forethought struck me so forcibly that I +had no answer to make. Just at this moment Lubotshka approached +us. + +"So you know?" she said with a joyful face. + +"Yes," said Woloda. "Still, I am surprised at you, Lubotshka. You +are no longer a baby in long clothes. Why should you be so +pleased because Papa is going to marry a piece of trash?" + +At this Lubotshka's face fell, and she became serious. + +"Oh, Woloda!" she exclaimed. "Why 'a piece of trash' indeed? How +can you dare to speak of Avdotia like that? If Papa is going to +marry her she cannot be 'trash.'" + +"No, not trash, so to speak, but--" + +"No 'buts' at all!" interrupted Lubotshka, flaring up. "You have +never heard me call the girl whom you are in love with 'trash!' +How, then, can you speak so of Papa and a respectable woman? +Although you are my elder brother, I won't allow you to speak +like that! You ought not to!" + +"Mayn't I even express an opinion about--" + +"No, you mayn't!" repeated Lubotshka. "No one ought to criticise +such a father as ours. Mimi has the right to, but not you, +however much you may be the eldest brother." + +"Oh you don't understand anything," said Woloda contemptuously. +"Try and do so. How can it be a good thing that a 'Dunetchka' of +an Epifanov should take the place of our dead Mamma?" + +For a moment Lubotshka was silent. Then the tears suddenly came +into her eyes. + +"I knew that you were conceited, but I never thought that you +could be cruel," she said, and left us. + +"Pshaw!" said Woloda, pulling a serio-comic face and make- +believe, stupid eyes. "That's what comes of arguing with them." +Evidently he felt that he was at fault in having so far forgot +himself as to descend to discuss matters at all with Lubotshka. + +Next day the weather was bad, and neither Papa nor the ladies had +come down to morning tea when I entered the drawing-room. There +had been cold rain in the night, and remnants of the clouds from +which it had descended were still scudding across the sky, with +the sun's luminous disc (not yet risen to any great height) +showing faintly through them. It was a windy, damp, grey morning. +The door into the garden was standing open, and pools left by the +night's rain were drying on the damp-blackened flags of the +terrace. The open door was swinging on its iron hinges in the +wind, and all the paths looked wet and muddy. The old birch trees +with their naked white branches, the bushes, the turf, the +nettles, the currant-trees, the elders with the pale side of +their leaves turned upwards--all were dashing themselves about, +and looking as though they were trying to wrench themselves free +from their roots. From the avenue of lime-trees showers of round, +yellow leaves were flying through the air in tossing, eddying +circles, and strewing the wet road and soaked aftermath of the +hayfield with a clammy carpet. At the moment, my thoughts were +wholly taken up with my father's approaching marriage and with +the point of view from which Woloda regarded it. The future +seemed to me to bode no good for any of us. I felt distressed to +think that a woman who was not only a stranger but young should +be going to associate with us in so many relations of life, +without having any right to do so--nay, that this young woman was +going to usurp the place of our dead mother. I felt depressed, +and kept thinking more and more that my father was to blame in +the matter. Presently I heard his voice and Woloda's speaking +together in the pantry, and, not wishing to meet Papa just then, +had just left the room when I was pursued by Lubotshka, who said +that Papa wanted to see me. + +He was standing in the drawing-room, with his hand resting on the +piano, and was gazing in my direction with an air at once grave +and impatient. His face no longer wore the youthful, gay +expression which had struck me for so long, but, on the contrary, +looked sad. Woloda was walking about the room with a pipe in his +hand. I approached my father, and bade him good morning. + +"Well, my children," he said firmly, with a lift of his head and +in the peculiarly hurried manner of one who wishes to announce +something obviously unwelcome, but no longer admitting of +reconsideration, "you know, I suppose, that I am going to marry +Avdotia Epifanov." He paused a moment. "Hitherto I had had no +desire for any one to succeed your mother, but"--and again he +paused--"it-it is evidently my fate. Dunetchka is an excellent, +kind girl, and no longer in her first youth. I hope, therefore, +my children, that you will like her, and she, I know, will be +sincerely fond of you, for she is a good woman. And now," he went +on, addressing himself more particularly to Woloda and myself, +and having the appearance of speaking hurriedly in order to +prevent us from interrupting him, "it is time for you to depart, +while I myself am going to stay here until the New Year, and then +to follow you to Moscow with"--again he hesitated a moment--"my +wife and Lubotshka." It hurt me to see my father standing as +though abashed and at fault before us, so I moved a little nearer +him, but Woloda only went on walking about the room with his head +down, and smoking. + +"So, my children, that is what your old father has planned to +do," concluded Papa--reddening, coughing, and offering Woloda and +myself his hands. Tears were in his eyes as he said this, and I +noticed, too, that the hand which he was holding out to Woloda +(who at that moment chanced to be at the other end of the room) +was shaking slightly. The sight of that shaking hand gave me an +unpleasant shock, for I remembered that Papa had served in 1812, +and had been, as every one knew, a brave officer. Seizing the +great veiny hand, I covered it with kisses, and he squeezed mine +hard in return. Then, with a sob amid his tears, he suddenly +threw his arms around Lubotshka's dark head, and kissed her again +and again on the eyes. Woloda pretended that he had dropped his +pipe, and, bending down, wiped his eyes furtively with the back +of his hand. Then, endeavouring to escape notice, he left the +room. + +XXXVI + +THE UNIVERSITY + +THE wedding was to take place in two weeks' time, but, as our +lectures had begun already, Woloda and myself were forced to +return to Moscow at the beginning of September. The Nechludoffs +had also returned from the country, and Dimitri (with whom, on +parting, I had made an agreement that we should correspond +frequently with the result, of course, that we had never once +written to one another) came to see us immediately after our +arrival, and arranged to escort me to my first lecture on the +morrow. + +It was a beautiful sunny day. No sooner had I entered the +auditorium than I felt my personality entirely disappear amid the +swarm of light-hearted youths who were seething tumultuously +through every doorway and corridor under the influence of the +sunlight pouring through the great windows. I found the sense of +being a member of this huge community very pleasing, yet there +were few among the throng whom I knew, and that only on terms of +a nod and a "How do you do, Irtenieff?" + +All around me men were shaking hands and chatting together--from +every side came expressions of friendship, laughter, jests, and +badinage. Everywhere I could feel the tie which bound this +youthful society in one, and everywhere, too, I could feel that +it left me out. Yet this impression lasted for a moment only, and +was succeeded, together with the vexation which it had caused, by +the idea that it was best that I should not belong to that +society, but keep to my own circle of gentlemen; wherefore I +proceeded to seat myself upon the third bench, with, as neigh~ +hours, Count B., Baron Z., the Prince R., Iwin, and some other +young men of the same class with none of whom, however, was +acquainted save with Iwin and Count B. Yet the look which these +young gentlemen threw at me at once made me feel that I was not +of their set, and I turned to observe what was going on around +me. Semenoff, with grey, matted hair, white teeth, and tunic +flying open, was seated a little distance off, and leaning +forward on his elbows as he nibbled a pen, while the gymnasium +student who had come out first in the examinations had +established himself on the front bench, and, with a black stock +coming half-way up his cheek, was toying with the silver watch- +chain which adorned his satin waistcoat. On a bench in a raised +part of the hall I could descry Ikonin (evidently he had +contrived to enter the University somehow!), and hear him fussily +proclaiming, in all the glory of blue piped trousers which +completely hid his boots, that he was now seated on Parnassus. +Ilinka--who had surprised me by giving me a bow not only cold, +but supercilious, as though to remind me that here we were all +equals--was just in front of me, with his legs resting in free and +easy style on another bench (a hit, somehow I thought, at +myself), and conversing with a student as he threw occasional +glances in my direction. Iwin's set by my side were talking in +French, yet every word which I overheard of their conversation +seemed to me both stupid and incorrect ("Ce n'est pas francais," +I thought to myself), while all the attitudes, utterances, and +doings of Semenoff, Ilinka, and the rest struck me as uniformly +coarse, ungentlemanly, and "comme il ne faut pas." + +Thus, attached to no particular set, I felt isolated and unable +to make friends, and so grew resentful. One of the students on +the bench in front of me kept biting his nails, which were raw to +the quick already, and this so disgusted me that I edged away +from him. In short, I remember finding my first day a most +depressing affair. + +When the professor entered, and there was a general stir and a +cessation of chatter, I remember throwing a scornful glance at +him, as also that he began his discourse with a sentence which I +thought devoid of meaning. I had expected the lecture to be, from +first to last, so clever that not a word ought to be taken from +or added to it. Disappointed in this, I at once proceeded to draw +beneath the heading "First Lecture" with which I had adorned my +beautifully-bound notebook no less than eighteen faces in +profile, joined together in a sort of chaplet, and only +occasionally moved my hand along the page in order to give the +professor (who, I felt sure, must be greatly interested in me) +the impression that I was writing something. In fact, at this +very first lecture I came to the decision which I maintained to +the end of my course, namely, that it was unnecessary, and even +stupid, to take down every word said by every professor. + +At subsequent lectures, however, I did not feel my isolation so +strongly, since I made several acquaintances and got into the way +of shaking hands and entering into conversation. Yet for some +reason or another no real intimacy ever sprang up between us, and +I often found myself depressed and only feigning cheerfulness. +With the set which comprised Iwin and "the aristocrats," as they +were generally known, I could not make any headway at all, for, +as I now remember, I was always shy and churlish to them, and +nodded to them only when they nodded to me; so that they had +little inducement to desire my acquaintance. With most of the +other students, however, this arose from quite a different cause. +As soon as ever I discerned friendliness on the part of a +comrade, I at once gave him to understand that I went to luncheon +with Prince Ivan Ivanovitch and kept my own drozhki. All this I +said merely to show myself in the most favourable light in his +eyes, and to induce him to like me all the more; yet almost +invariably the only result of my communicating to him the +intelligence concerning the drozhki and my relationship to Prince +Ivan Ivanovitch was that, to my astonishment, he at once adopted +a cold and haughty bearing towards me. + +Among us we had a Crown student named Operoff--a very modest, +industrious, and clever young fellow, who always offered one his +hand like a slab of wood (that is to say, without closing his +fingers or making the slightest movement with them); with the +result that his comrades often did the same to him in jest, and +called it the "deal board" way of shaking hands. He and I nearly +always sat next to one another, and discussed matters generally. +In particular he pleased me with the freedom with which he would +criticise the professors as he pointed out to me with great +clearness and acumen the merits or demerits of their respective +ways of teaching and made occasional fun of them. Such remarks I +found exceedingly striking and diverting when uttered in his +quiet, mincing voice. Nevertheless he never let a lecture pass +without taking careful notes of it in his fine handwriting, and +eventually we decided to join forces, and to do our preparation +together. Things had progressed to the point of his always +looking pleased when I took my usual seat beside him when, +unfortunately, I one day found it necessary to inform him that, +before her death, my mother had besought my father never to allow +us to enter for a government scholarship, as well as that I +myself considered Crown students, no matter how clever, to be- +"well, they are not GENTLEMEN," I concluded, though beginning to +flounder a little and grow red. At the moment Operoff said +nothing, but at subsequent lectures he ceased to greet me or to +offer me his board-like hand, and never attempted to talk to me, +but, as soon as ever I sat down, he would lean his head upon his +arm, and purport to be absorbed in his notebooks. I was surprised +at this sudden coolness, but looked upon it as infra dig, "pour +un jeune homme de bonne maison" to curry favour with a mere Crown +student of an Operoff, and so left him severely alone--though I +confess that his aloofness hurt my feelings. On one occasion I +arrived before him, and, since the lecture was to be delivered by +a popular professor whom students came to hear who did not +usually attend such functions, I found almost every seat +occupied. Accordingly I secured Operoff's place for myself by +spreading my notebooks on the desk before it; after which I left +the room again for a moment. When I returned I perceived that my +paraphernalia had been relegated to the bench behind, and the +place taken by Operoff himself. I remarked to him that I had +already secured it by placing my notebooks there. + +"I know nothing about that," he replied sharply, yet without +looking up at me. + +"I tell you I placed my notebooks there," I repeated, purposely +trying to bluster, in the hope of intimidating him. "Every one +saw me do it," I added, including the students near me in my +glance. Several of them looked at me with curiosity, yet none of +them spoke. + +"Seats cannot be booked here," said Operoff. "Whoever first sits +down in a place keeps it," and, settling himself angrily where he +was, he flashed at me a glance of defiance. + +"Well, that only means that you are a cad," I said. + +I have an idea that he murmured something about my being "a +stupid young idiot," but I decided not to hear it. What would be +the use, I asked myself, of my hearing it? That we should brawl +like a couple of manants over less than nothing? (I was very fond +of the word manants, and often used it for meeting awkward +junctures.) Perhaps I should have said something more had not, at +that moment, a door slammed and the professor (dressed in a blue +frockcoat, and shuffling his feet as he walked) ascended the +rostrum. + +Nevertheless, when the examination was about to come on, and I +had need of some one's notebooks, Operoff remembered his promise +to lend me his, and we did our preparation together. + +XXXVII + +AFFAIRS OF THE HEART + +Affaires du coeur exercised me greatly that winter. In fact, I +fell in love three times. The first time, I became passionately +enamoured of a buxom lady whom I used to see riding at Freitag's +riding-school; with the result that every day when she was taking +a lesson there (that is to say, every Tuesday and Friday) I used +to go to gaze at her, but always in such a state of trepidation +lest I should be seen that I stood a long way off, and bolted +directly I thought her likely to approach the spot where I was +standing. Likewise, I used to turn round so precipitately whenever +she appeared to be glancing in my direction that I never saw her +face well, and to this day do not know whether she was really +beautiful or not. + +Dubkoff, who was acquainted with her, surprised me one day in the +riding-school, where I was lurking concealed behind the lady's +grooms and the fur wraps which they were holding, and, having +heard from Dimitri of my infatuation, frightened me so terribly +by proposing to introduce me to the Amazon that I fled +incontinently from the school, and was prevented by the mere +thought that possibly he had told her about me from ever entering +the place again, or even from hiding behind her grooms, lest I +should encounter her. + +Whenever I fell in love with ladies whom I did not know, and +especially married women, I experienced a shyness a thousand +times greater than I had ever felt with Sonetchka. I dreaded +beyond measure that my divinity should learn of my passion, or +even of my existence, since I felt sure that, once she had done +so, she would be so terribly offended that I should never be +forgiven for my presumption. And indeed, if the Amazon referred +to above had ever come to know how I used to stand behind the +grooms and dream of seizing her and carrying her off to some +country spot--if she had ever come to know how I should have lived +with her there, and how I should have treated her, it is probable +that she would have had very good cause for indignation! But I +always felt that, once I got to know her, she would straightway +divine these thoughts, and consider herself insulted by my +acquaintance. + +As my second affaire du coeur, I, (for the third time) fell in +love with Sonetchka when I saw her at her sister's. My second +passion for her had long since come to an end, but I became +enamoured of her this third time through Lubotshka sending me a +copy-book in which Sonetchka had copied some extracts from +Lermontoff's The Demon, with certain of the more subtly amorous +passages underlined in red ink and marked with pressed flowers. +Remembering how Woloda had been wont to kiss his inamorata's +purse last year, I essayed to do the same thing now; and really, +when alone in my room in the evenings and engaged in dreaming as +I looked at a flower or occasionally pressed it to my lips, I +would feel a certain pleasantly lachrymose mood steal over me, +and remain genuinely in love (or suppose myself to be so) for at +least several days. + +Finally, my third affaire du coeur that winter was connected with +the lady with whom Woloda was in love, and who used occasionally +to visit at our house. Yet, in this damsel, as I now remember, +there was not a single beautiful feature to be found--or, at all +events, none of those which usually pleased me. She was the +daughter of a well-known Moscow lady of light and leading, and, +petite and slender, wore long flaxen curls after the English +fashion, and could boast of a transparent profile. Every one said +that she was even cleverer and more learned than her mother, but +I was never in a position to judge of that, since, overcome with +craven bashfulness at the mere thought of her intellect and +accomplishments, I never spoke to her alone but once, and then +with unaccountable trepidation. Woloda's enthusiasm, however (for +the presence of an audience never prevented him from giving vent +to his rapture), communicated itself to me so strongly that I +also became enamoured of the lady. Yet, conscious that he would +not be pleased to know that two brothers were in love with the +same girl, I never told him of my condition. On the contrary, I +took special delight in the thought that our mutual love for her +was so pure that, though its object was, in both cases, the same +charming being, we remained friends and ready, if ever the +occasion should arise, to sacrifice ourselves for one another. +Yet I have an idea that, as regards self-sacrifice, he did not +quite share my views, for he was so passionately in love with the +lady that once he was for giving a member of the diplomatic +corps, who was said to be going to marry her, a slap in the face +and a challenge to a duel; but, for my part, I would gladly have +sacrificed my feelings for his sake, seeing that the fact that +the only remark I had ever addressed to her had been on the +subject of the dignity of classical music, and that my passion, +for all my efforts to keep it alive, expired the following week, +would have rendered it the more easy for me to do so. + +XXXVIII + +THE WORLD + +As regards those worldly delights to which I had intended, on +entering the University, to surrender myself in imitation of my +brother, I underwent a complete disillusionment that winter. +Woloda danced a great deal, and Papa also went to balls with his +young wife, but I appeared to be thought either too young or +unfitted for such delights, and no one invited me to the houses +where balls were being given. Yet, in spite of my vow of +frankness with Dimitri, I never told him (nor any one else) how +much I should have liked to go to those dances, and how I felt +hurt at being forgotten and (apparently) taken for the +philosopher that I pretended to be. + +Nevertheless, a reception was to be given that winter at the +Princess Kornakoff's, and to it she sent us personal invitations-- +to myself among the rest! Consequently, I was to attend my first +ball. Before starting, Woloda came into my room to see how I was +dressing myself--an act on his part which greatly surprised me and +took me aback. In my opinion (it must be understood) solicitude +about one's dress was a shameful thing, and should be kept under, +but he seemed to think it a thing so natural and necessary that +he said outright that he was afraid I should be put out of +countenance on that score. Accordingly, he bid me don my patent +leather boots, and was horrified to find that I wanted to put on +gloves of peau de chamois. Next, he adjusted my watch-chain in a +particular manner, and carried me off to a hairdresser's near the +Kuznetski Bridge to have my locks coiffured. That done, he +withdrew to a little distance and surveyed me. + +"Yes, he looks right enough now" said he to the hairdresser. +"Only--couldn't you smooth those tufts of his in front a little?" +Yet, for all that Monsieur Charles treated my forelocks with one +essence and another, they persisted in rising up again when ever +I put on my hat. In fact, my curled and tonsured figure seemed to +me to look far worse than it had done before. My only hope of +salvation lay in an affectation of untidiness. Only in that guise +would my exterior resemble anything at all. Woloda, apparently, +was of the same opinion, for he begged me to undo the curls, and +when I had done so and still looked unpresentable, he ceased to +regard me at all, but throughout the drive to the Kornakoffs +remained silent and depressed. + +Nevertheless, I entered the Kornakoffs' mansion boldly enough, and +it was only when the Princess had invited me to dance, and I, for +some reason or another (though I had driven there with no other +thought in my head than to dance well), had replied that I never +indulged in that pastime, that I began to blush, and, left +solitary among a crowd of strangers, became plunged in my usual +insuperable and ever-growing shyness. In fact, I remained silent +on that spot almost the whole evening! + +Nevertheless, while a waltz was in progress, one of the young +princesses came to me and asked me, with the sort of official +kindness common to all her family, why I was not dancing. I can +remember blushing hotly at the question, but at the same time +feeling--for all my efforts to prevent it--a self-satisfied smile +steal over my face as I began talking, in the most inflated and +long-winded French, such rubbish as even now, after dozens of +years, it shames me to recall. It must have been the effect of +the music, which, while exciting my nervous sensibility, drowned +(as I supposed) the less intelligible portion of my utterances. +Anyhow, I went on speaking of the exalted company present, and of +the futility of men and women, until I had got myself into such a +tangle that I was forced to stop short in the middle of a word of +a sentence which I found myself powerless to conclude. + +Even the worldly-minded young Princess was shocked by my conduct, +and gazed at me in reproach; whereat I burst out laughing. At +this critical moment, Woloda, who had remarked that I was +conversing with great animation, and probably was curious to know +what excuses I was making for not dancing, approached us with +Dubkoff. Seeing, however, my smiling face and the Princess's +frightened mien, as well as overhearing the appalling rubbish +with which I concluded my speech, he turned red in the face, and +wheeled round again. The Princess also rose and left me. I +continued to smile, but in such a state of agony from the +consciousness of my stupidity that I felt ready to sink into the +floor. Likewise I felt that, come what might, I must move about +and say something, in order to effect a change in my position. +Accordingly I approached Dubkoff, and asked him if he had danced +many waltzes with her that night. This I feigned to say in a gay +and jesting manner, yet in reality I was imploring help of the +very Dubkoff to whom I had cried "Hold your tongue!" on the +night of the matriculation dinner. By way of answer, he made as +though he had not heard me, and turned away. Next, I approached +Woloda, and said with an effort and in a similar tone of assumed +gaiety: "Hullo, Woloda! Are you played out yet?" He merely looked +at me as much as to say, "You wouldn't speak to me like that if +we were alone," and left me without a word, in the evident fear +that I might continue to attach myself to his person. + +"My God! Even my own brother deserts me!" I thought to myself. + +Yet somehow I had not the courage to depart, but remained +standing where I was until the very end of the evening. At +length, when every one was leaving the room and crowding into the +hall, and a footman slipped my greatcoat on to my shoulders in +such a way as to tilt up my cap, I gave a dreary, half-lachrymose +smile, and remarked to no one in particular: "Comme c'est +gracieux!" + +XXXIX + +THE STUDENTS' FEAST + +NOTWITHSTANDING that, as yet, Dimitri's influence had kept me +from indulging in those customary students' festivities known as +kutezhi or "wines," that winter saw me participate in such a +function, and carry away with me a not over-pleasant impression +of it. This is how it came about. + +At a lecture soon after the New Year, Baron Z.--a tall, light- +haired young fellow of very serious demeanour and regular +features--invited us all to spend a sociable evening with him. By +"us all", I mean all the men more or less "comme il faut", of our +course, and exclusive of Grap, Semenoff, Operoff, and commoners +of that sort. Woloda smiled contemptuously when he heard that I +was going to a "wine" of first course men, but I looked to derive +great and unusual pleasure from this, to me, novel method of +passing the time. Accordingly, punctually at the appointed hour +of eight I presented myself at the Baron's. + +Our host, in an open tunic and white waistcoat, received his +guests in the brilliantly lighted salon and drawing-room of the +small mansion where his parents lived--they having given up their +reception rooms to him for the evening for purposes of this +party. In the corridor could be seen the heads and skirts of +inquisitive domestics, while in the dining-room I caught a +glimpse of a dress which I imagined to belong to the Baroness +herself. The guests numbered a score, and were all of them +students except Herr Frost (in attendance upon Iwin) and a tall, +red-faced gentleman who was superintending the feast and who was +introduced to every one as a relative of the Baron's and a former +student of the University of Dorpat. At first, the excessive +brilliancy and formal appointments of the reception-rooms had +such a chilling effect upon this youthful company that every one +involuntarily hugged the walls, except a few bolder spirits and +the ex-Dorpat student, who, with his waistcoat already +unbuttoned, seemed to be in every room, and in every corner of +every room, at once, and filled the whole place with his +resonant, agreeable, never-ceasing tenor voice. The remainder of +the guests preferred either to remain silent or to talk in +discreet tones of professors, faculties, examinations, and other +serious and interesting matters. Yet every one, without +exception, kept watching the door of the dining-room, and, while +trying to conceal the fact, wearing an expression which said: +"Come! It is time to begin." I too felt that it was time to +begin, and awaited the beginning with pleasurable impatience. + +After footmen had handed round tea among the guests, the Dorpat +student asked Frost in Russian: + +"Can you make punch, Frost?" + +"Oh ja!" replied Frost with a joyful flourish of his heels, and +the other went on: + +"Then do you set about it" (they addressed each other in the +second person singular, as former comrades at Dorpat). Frost +accordingly departed to the dining-room, with great strides of +his bowed, muscular legs, and, after some walking backwards and +forwards, deposited upon the drawing-room table a large +punchbowl, accompanied by a ten-pound sugar loaf supported on +three students' swords placed crosswise. Meanwhile, the Baron had +been going round among his guests as they sat regarding the +punch-bowl, and addressing them, with a face of immutable +gravity, in the formula: "I beg of you all to drink of this +loving-cup in student fashion, that there may be good-fellowship +among the members of our course. Unbutton your waistcoats, or +take them off altogether, as you please." Already the Dorpat +student had divested himself of his tunic and rolled up his +white shirt-sleeves above his elbows, and now, planting his +feet firmly apart, he proceeded to set fire to the rum in the +punch-bowl. + +"Gentlemen, put out the candles!" he cried with a sudden shout so +loud and insistent that we seemed all of us to be shouting at +once. However, we still went on silently regarding the punch-bowl +and the white shirt of the Dorpat student, with a feeling that a +moment of great solemnity was approaching. + +"Put out the lights, Frost, I tell you!" the Dorpat student +shouted again. Evidently the punch was now sufficiently burnt. +Accordingly every one helped to extinguish the candles, until the +room was in total darkness save for a spot where the white shirts +and hands of the three students supporting the sugarloaf on their +crossed swords were lit up by the lurid flames from the bowl. Yet +the Dorpat student's tenor voice was not the only one to be +heard, for in different quarters of the room resounded chattering +and laughter. Many had taken off their tunics (especially +students whose garments were of fine cloth and perfectly new), +and I now did the same, with a consciousness that "IT" was +"beginning." There had been no great festivity as yet, but I felt +assured that things would go splendidly when once we had begun +drinking tumblers of the potion that was now in course of +preparation. + +At length, the punch was ready, and the Dorpat student, with much +bespattering of the table as he did so, ladled the liquor into +tumblers, and cried: "Now, gentlemen, please!" When we had each +of us taken a sticky tumbler of the stuff into our hands, the +Dorpat student and Frost sang a German song in which the word +"Hoch!" kept occurring again and again, while we joined, in +haphazard fashion, in the chorus. Next we clinked glasses +together, shouted something in praise of punch, crossed hands, +and took our first drink of the sweet, strong mixture. After that +there was no further waiting; the "wine" was in full swing. The +first glassful consumed, a second was poured out. Yet, for all +that I began to feel a throbbing in my temples, and that the +flames seemed to be turning purple, and that every one around me +was laughing and shouting, things seemed lacking in real gaiety, +and I somehow felt that, as a matter of fact, we were all of us +finding the affair rather dull, and only PRETENDING to be +enjoying it. The Dorpat student may have been an exception, for +he continued to grow more and more red in the face and more and +more ubiquitous as he filled up empty glasses and stained the +table with fresh spots of the sweet, sticky stuff. The precise +sequence of events I cannot remember, but I can recall feeling +strongly attracted towards Frost and the Dorpat student that +evening, learning their German song by heart, and kissing them +each on their sticky-sweet lips; also that that same evening I +conceived a violent hatred against the Dorpat student, and was +for pushing him from his chair, but thought better of it; also +that, besides feeling the same spirit of independence towards the +rest of the company as I had felt on the night of the +matriculation dinner, my head ached and swam so badly that I +thought each moment would be my last; also that, for some reason +or another, we all of us sat down on the floor and imitated the +movements of rowers in a boat as we sang in chorus, "Down our +mother stream the Volga;" also that I conceived this procedure on +our part to be uncalled for; also that, as I lay prone upon the +floor, I crossed my legs and began wriggling about like a +tsigane; [Gipsy dancer.] also that I ricked some one's neck, and +came to the, conclusion that I should never have done such a +thing if I had not been drunk; also that we had some supper and +another kind of liquor, and that I then went to the door to get +some fresh air; also that my head seemed suddenly to grow chill, +and that I noticed, as I drove away, that the scat of the vehicle +was so sharply aslant and slippery that for me to retain my +position behind Kuzma was impossible; also that he seemed to have +turned all flabby, and to be waving about like a dish clout. But +what I remember best is that throughout the whole of that evening +I never ceased to feel that I was acting with excessive stupidity +in pretending to be enjoying myself, to like drinking a great +deal, and to be in no way drunk, as well as that every one else +present was acting with equal stupidity in pretending those same +things. All the time I had a feeling that each one of my +companions was finding the festivities as distasteful as I was +myself; but, in the belief that he was the only one doing so, +felt himself bound to pretend that he was very merry, in order +not to mar the general hilarity. Also, strange to state, I felt +that I ought to keep up this pretence for the sole reason that +into a punch-bowl there had been poured three bottles of +champagne at nine roubles the bottle and ten bottles of rum at +four--making seventy roubles in all, exclusive of the supper. So +convinced of my folly did I feel that, when, at next day's +lecture, those of my comrades who had been at Baron Z.'s party +seemed not only in no way ashamed to remember what they had done, +but even talked about it so that other students might hear of +their doings, I felt greatly astonished. They all declared that +it had been a splendid "wine," that Dorpat students were just the +fellows for that kind of thing, and that there had been consumed +at it no less than forty bottles of rum among twenty guests, some +of whom had dropped senseless under the table! That they should +care to talk about such things seemed strange enough, but that +they should care to lie about them seemed absolutely +unintelligible. + +XL + +MY FRIENDSHIP WITH THE NECHLUDOFFS + +That winter, too, I saw a great deal both of Dimitri who often +looked us up, and of his family, with whom I was beginning to +stand on intimate terms. + +The Nechludoffs (that is to say, mother, aunt, and daughter) +always spent their evenings at home, at which time the Princess +liked young men to visit her--at all events young men of the kind +whom she described as able to spend an evening without playing +cards or dancing. Yet such young fellows must have been few and +far between, for, although I went to the Nechludoffs almost every +evening, I seldom found other guests present. Thus, I came to know +the members of this family and their several dispositions well +enough to be able to form clear ideas as to their mutual +relations, and to be quite at home amid the rooms and furniture +of their house. Indeed, so long as no other guests were present, +I felt entirely at my ease. True, at first I used to feel a +little uncomfortable when left alone in the room with Varenika, +for I could not rid myself of the idea that, though far from +pretty, she wished me to fall in love with her; but in time this +nervousness of mine began to lessen, since she always looked so +natural, and talked to me so exactly as though she were +conversing with her brother or Lubov Sergievna, that I came to +look upon her simply as a person to whom it was in no way +dangerous or wrong to show that I took pleasure in her company. +Throughout the whole of our acquaintance she appeared to me +merely a plain, though not positively ugly, girl, concerning whom +one would never ask oneself the question, + +"Am I, or am I not, in love with her?" Sometimes I would talk to +her direct, but more often I did so through Dimitri or Lubov +Sergievna; and it was the latter method which afforded me the +most pleasure. I derived considerable gratification from +discoursing when she was there, from hearing her sing, and, in +general, from knowing that she was in the same room as myself; +but it was seldom now that any thoughts of what our future +relations might ever be, or that any dreams of self-sacrifice for +my friend if he should ever fall in love with my sister, came +into my head. If any such ideas or fancies occurred to me, I felt +satisfied with the present, and drove away all thoughts about the +future. + +Yet, in spite of this intimacy, I continued to look upon it as my +bounden duty to keep the Nechludoffs in general, and Varenika in +particular, in ignorance of my true feelings and tastes, and +strove always to appear altogether another young man than what I +really was--to appear, indeed, such a young man as could never +possibly have existed. I affected to be "soulful" and would go +off into raptures and exclamations and impassioned gestures +whenever I wished it to be thought that anything pleased me, +while, on the other hand, I tried always to seem indifferent +towards any unusual circumstance which I myself perceived or +which I had had pointed out to me. I aimed always at figuring +both as a sarcastic cynic divorced from every sacred tie and as a +shrewd observer, as well as at being accounted logical in all my +conduct, precise and methodical in all my ways of life, and at +the same time contemptuous of all materiality. I may safely say +that I was far better in reality than the strange being into whom +I attempted to convert myself; yet, whatever I was or was not, +the Nechludoffs were unfailingly kind to me, and (happily for +myself) took no notice (as it now appears) of my play-acting. +Only Lubov Sergievna, who, I believe, really believed me to be a +great egoist, atheist, and cynic, had no love for me, but +frequently disputed what I said, flew into tempers, and left me +petrified with her disjointed, irrelevant utterances. Yet Dimitri +held always to the same strange, something more than friendly, +relations with her, and used to say not only that she was +misunderstood by every one, but that she did him a world of good. +This, however, did not prevent the rest of his family from +finding fault with his infatuation. + +Once, when talking to me about this incomprehensible attachment, +Varenika explained the matter thus: "You see, Dimitri is a +selfish person. He is very proud, and, for all his intellect, +very fond of praise, and of surprising people, and of always +being FIRST, while little Auntie" (the general nickname for Lubov +Sergievna) "is innocent enough to admire him, and at the same +time devoid of the tact to conceal her admiration. Consequently +she flatters his vanity--not out of pretence, but sincerely." + +This dictum I laid to heart, and, when thinking it over +afterwards, could not but come to the conclusion that Varenika +was very sensible; wherefore I was glad to award her promotion +thenceforth in my regard. Yet, though I was always glad enough to +assign her any credit which might arise from my discovering in +her character any signs of good sense or other moral qualities, I +did so with strict moderation, and never ran to any extreme pitch +of enthusiasm in the process. Thus, when Sophia Ivanovna (who was +never weary of discussing her niece) related to me how, four +years ago, Varenika had suddenly given away all her clothes to +some peasant children without first asking permission to do so, +so that the garments had subsequently to be recovered, I did not +at once accept the fact as entitling Varenika to elevation in my +opinion, but went on giving her good advice about the +unpracticalness of such views on property. + +When other guests were present at the Nechludoffs (among them, +sometimes, Woloda and Dubkoff) I used to withdraw myself to a +remote plane, and, with the complacency and quiet consciousness +of strength of an habitue of the house, listen to what others +were saying without putting in a remark myself. Yet everything +that these others said seemed to me so immeasurably stupid that I +used to feel inwardly amazed that such a clever, logical woman as +the Princess, with her equally logical family, could listen to +and answer such rubbish. Had it, however, entered into my head to +compare what, others said with what I myself said when there +alone, I should probably have ceased to feel surprise. Still less +should I have continued to feel surprise had I not believed that +the women of our own household--Avdotia, Lubotshka, and Katenka-- +were superior to the rest of their sex, for in that case I should +have remembered the kind of things over which Avdotia and Katenka +would laugh and jest with Dubkoff from one end of an evening to +the other. I should have remembered that seldom did an evening +pass but Dubkoff would first have, an argument about something, +and then read in a sententious voice either some verses beginning +"Au banquet de la vie, infortune convive" or extracts from The +Demon. In short, I should have remembered what nonsense they used +to chatter for hours at a time. + +It need hardly be said that, when guests were present, Varenika +paid less attention to me than when we were alone, as well as +that I was deprived of the reading and music which I so greatly +loved to hear. When talking to guests, she lost, in my eyes, her +principal charm--that of quiet seriousness and simplicity. I +remember how strange it used to seem to me to hear her +discoursing on theatres and the weather to my brother Woloda! I +knew that of all things in the world he most despised and shunned +banality, and that Varenika herself used to make fun of forced +conversations on the weather and similar matters. Why, then, when +meeting in society, did they both of them talk such intolerable +nothings, and, as it were, shame one another? After talks of this +kind I used to feel silently resentful against Woloda, as well as +next day to rally Varenika on her overnight guests. Yet one +result of it was that I derived all the greater pleasure from +being one of the Nechludoffs' family circle. Also, for some +reason or another I began to prefer meeting Dimitri in his +mother's drawing-room to being with him alone. + +XLI + +MY FRIENDSHIP WITH THE NECHLUDOFFS + +At this period, indeed, my friendship with Dimitri hung by a +hair. I had been criticising him too long not to have discovered +faults in his character, for it is only in first youth that we +love passionately and therefore love only perfect people. As soon +as the mists engendered by love of this kind begin to dissolve, +and to be penetrated by the clear beams of reason, we see the +object of our adoration in his true shape, and with all his +virtues and failings exposed. Some of those failings strike us +with the exaggerated force of the unexpected, and combine with +the instinct for novelty and the hope that perfection may yet be +found in a fellow-man to induce us not only to feel coldness, but +even aversion, towards the late object of our adoration. +Consequently, desiring it no longer, we usually cast it from us, +and pass onwards to seek fresh perfection. For the circumstance +that that was not what occurred with respect to my own relation +to Dimitri, I was indebted to his stubborn, punctilious, and more +critical than impulsive attachment to myself--a tie which I felt +ashamed to break. Moreover, our strange vow of frankness bound us +together. We were afraid that, if we parted, we should leave in +one another's power all the incriminatory moral secrets of which +we had made mutual confession. At the same time, our rule of +frankness had long ceased to be faithfully observed, but, on the +contrary, proved a frequent cause of constraint, and brought +about strange relations between us. + +Almost every time that winter that I went upstairs to Dimitri's +room, I used to find there a University friend of his named +Bezobiedoff, with whom he appeared to be very much taken up. +Bezobiedoff was a small, slight fellow, with a face pitted over +with smallpox, freckled, effeminate hands, and a huge flaxen +moustache much in need of the comb. He was invariably dirty, +shabby, uncouth, and uninteresting. To me, Dimitri's relations +with him were as unintelligible as his relations with Lubov +Sergievna, and the only reason he could have had for choosing +such a man for his associate was that in the whole University +there was no worse-looking student than Bezobiedoff. Yet that +alone would have been sufficient to make Dimitri extend him his +friendship, and, as a matter of fact, in all his intercourse with +this fellow he seemed to be saying proudly: "I care nothing who a +man may be. In my eyes every one is equal. I like him, and +therefore he is a desirable acquaintance." Nevertheless I could +not imagine how he could bring himself to do it, nor how the +wretched Bezobiedoff ever contrived to maintain his awkward +position. To me the friendship seemed a most distasteful one. + +One night, I went up to Dimitri's room to try and get him to come +down for an evening's talk in his mother's drawing-room, where we +could also listen to Varenika's reading and singing, but +Bezobiedoff had forestalled me there, and Dimitri answered me +curtly that he could not come down, since, as I could see for +myself, he had a visitor with him. + +"Besides," he added, "what is the fun of sitting there? We had +much better stay HERE and talk." + +I scarcely relished the prospect of spending a couple of hours in +Bezobiedoff's company, yet could not make up my mind to go down +alone; wherefore, cursing my friend's vagaries, I seated myself +in a rocking-chair, and began rocking myself silently to and fro. +I felt vexed with them both for depriving me of the pleasures of +the drawing-room, and my only hope as I listened irritably to +their conversation was that Bezobiedoff would soon take his +departure. "A nice guest indeed to be sitting with!" I thought to +myself when a footman brought in tea and Dimitri had five times +to beg Bezobiedoff to have a cup, for the reason that the bashful +guest thought it incumbent upon him always to refuse it at first +and to say, "No, help yourself." I could see that Dimitri had to +put some restraint upon himself as he resumed the conversation. +He tried to inveigle me also into it, but I remained glum and +silent. + +"I do not mean to let my face give any one the suspicion that I +am bored" was my mental remark to Dimitri as I sat quietly +rocking myself to and fro with measured beat. Yet, as the moments +passed, I found myself--not without a certain satisfaction-- +growing more and more inwardly hostile to my friend. "What a fool +he is!" I reflected. "He might be spending the evening agreeably +with his charming family, yet he goes on sitting with this +brute!--will go on doing so, too, until it is too late to go down +to the drawing-room!" Here I glanced at him over the back of my +chair, and thought the general look of his attitude and +appearance so offensive and repellant that at the moment I could +gladly have offered him some insult, even a most serious one. + +At last Bezobiedoff rose, but Dimitri could not easily let such a +delightful friend depart, and asked him to stay the night. +Fortunately, Bezobiedoff declined the invitation, and departed. +Having seen him off, Dimitri returned, and, smiling a faintly +complacent smile as he did so, and rubbing his hands together (in +all probability partly because he had sustained his character for +eccentricity, and partly because he had got rid of a bore), +started to pace the room, with an occasional glance at myself. I +felt more offended with him than ever. "How can he go on walking +about the room and grinning like that?" was my inward reflection. + +"What are you so angry about?" he asked me suddenly as he halted +in front of my chair. + +"I am not in the least angry," I replied (as people always do +answer under such circumstances). "I am merely vexed that you +should play-act to me, and to Bezobiedoff, and to yourself." + +"What rubbish!" he retorted. "I never play-act to any one." + +"I have in mind our rule of frankness," I replied, "when I tell +you that I am certain you cannot bear this Bezobiedoff any more +than I can. He is an absolute cad, yet for some inexplicable +reason or another it pleases you to masquerade before him." + +"Not at all! To begin with, he is a splendid fellow, and--" + +"But I tell you it IS so. I also tell you that your friendship +for Lubov Sergievna is founded on the same basis, namely, that +she thinks you a god." + +"And I tell you once more that it is not so." + +"Oh, I know it for myself," I retorted with the heat of +suppressed anger, and designing to disarm him with my frankness. +"I have told you before, and I repeat it now, that you always +seem to like people who say pleasant things to you, but that, as +soon as ever I come to examine your friendship, I invariably find +that there exists no real attachment between you." + +"Oh, but you are wrong," said Dimitri with an angry straightening +of the neck in his collar. "When I like people, neither their +praise nor their blame can make any difference to my opinion of +them." + +"Well, dreadful though it may seem to you, I confess that I +myself often used to hate my father when he abused me, and to +wish that he was dead. In the same way, you--" + +"Speak for yourself. I am very sorry that you could ever have +been so--" + +"No, no!" I cried as I leapt from my chair and faced him with the +courage of exasperation. "It is for YOURSELF that you ought to +feel sorry--sorry because you never told me a word about this +fellow. You know that was not honourable of you. Nevertheless, I +will tell YOU what I think of you," and, burning to wound him +even more than he had wounded me, I set out to prove to him that +he was incapable of feeling any real affection for anybody, and +that I had the best of grounds (as in very truth I believed I +had) for reproaching him. I took great pleasure in telling him +all this, but at the same time forgot that the only conceivable +purpose of my doing so--to force him to confess to the faults of +which I had accused him--could not possibly be attained at the +present moment, when he was in a rage. Had he, on the other hand, +been in a condition to argue calmly, I should probably never have +said what I did. + +The dispute was verging upon an open quarrel when Dimitri +suddenly became silent, and left the room. I pursued him, and +continued what I was saying, but he did not answer. I knew that +his failings included a hasty temper, and that he was now +fighting it down; wherefore I cursed his good resolutions the +more in my heart. + +This, then, was what our rule of frankness had brought us to--the +rule that we should "tell one another everything in our minds, +and never discuss one another with a third person!" Many a time +we had exaggerated frankness to the pitch of making mutual +confession of the most shameless thoughts, and of shaming +ourselves by voicing to one another proposals or schemes for +attaining our desires; yet those confessions had not only failed +to draw closer the tie which united us, but had dissipated +sympathy and thrust us further apart, until now pride would not +allow him to expose his feelings even in the smallest detail, and +we employed in our quarrel the very weapons which we had formerly +surrendered to one another--the weapons which could strike the +shrewdest blows! + +XLII + +OUR STEPMOTHER + +Notwithstanding that Papa had not meant to return to Moscow +before the New Year, he arrived in October, when there was still +good riding to hounds to be had in the country. He alleged as his +reason for changing his mind that his suit was shortly to come on +before the Senate, but Mimi averred that Avdotia had found +herself so ennuyee in the country, and had so often talked about +Moscow and pretended to be unwell, that Papa had decided to +accede to her wishes. "You see, she never really loved him--she +and her love only kept buzzing about his ears because she wanted +to marry a rich man," added Mimi with a pensive sigh which said: +"To think what a certain other person could have done for him if +only he had valued her!" + +Yet that "certain other person" was unjust to Avdotia, seeing +that the latter's affection for Papa--the passionate, devoted +love of self-abandonment--revealed itself in her every look and +word and movement. At the same time, that love in no way hindered +her, not only from being averse to parting with her adored +husband, but also from desiring to visit Madame Annette's and +order there a lovely cap, a hat trimmed with a magnificent blue +ostrich feather, and a blue Venetian velvet bodice which was to +expose to the public gaze the snowy, well +shaped breast and arms which no one had yet gazed upon except her +husband and maids. Of course Katenka sided with her mother and, +in general, there became established between Avdotia and +ourselves, from the day of her arrival, the most extraordinary +and burlesque order of relations. As soon as she stepped from the +carriage, Woloda assumed an air of great seriousness and +ceremony, and, advancing towards her with much bowing and +scraping, said in the tone of one who is presenting something for +acceptance: + +"I have the honour to greet the arrival of our dear Mamma, and to +kiss her hand." + +"Ah, my dear son!" she replied with her beautiful, unvarying +smile. + +"And do not forget the younger son," I said as I also approached +her hand, with an involuntary imitation of Woloda's voice and +expression. + +Had our stepmother and ourselves been certain of any mutual +affection, that expression might have signified contempt for any +outward manifestation of our love. Had we been ill-disposed +towards one another, it might have denoted irony, or contempt for +pretence, or a desire to conceal from Papa (standing by the +while) our real relations, as well as many other thoughts and +sentiments. But, as a matter of fact, that expression (which well +consorted with Avdotia's own spirit) simply signified nothing at +all--simply concealed the absence of any definite relations +between us. In later life I often had occasion to remark, in the +case of other families whose members anticipated among themselves +relations not altogether harmonious, the sort of provisional, +burlesque relations which they formed for daily use; and it was +just such relations as those which now became established between +ourselves and our stepmother. We scarcely ever strayed beyond +them, but were polite to her, conversed with her in French, bowed +and scraped before her, and called her "chere Maman"--a term to +which she always responded in a tone of similar lightness and +with her beautiful, unchanging smile. Only the lachrymose +Lubotshka, with her goose feet and artless prattle, really liked +our stepmother, or tried, in her naive and frequently awkward +way, to bring her and ourselves together: wherefore the only +person in the world for whom, besides Papa, Avdotia had a spark +of affection was Lubotshka. Indeed, Avdotia always treated her +with a kind of grave admiration and timid deference which greatly +surprised me. + +From the first Avdotia was very fond of calling herself our +stepmother and hinting that, since children and servants usually +adopt an unjust and hostile attitude towards a woman thus +situated, her own position was likely to prove a difficult one. +Yet, though she foresaw all the unpleasantness of her +predicament, she did nothing to escape from it by (for instance) +conciliating this one, giving presents to that other one, and +forbearing to grumble--the last a precaution which it would have +been easy for her to take, seeing that by nature she was in no +way exacting, as well as very good-tempered. Yet, not only did +she do none of these things, but her expectation of difficulties +led her to adopt the defensive before she had been attacked. That +is to say, supposing that the entire household was designing to +show her every kind of insult and annoyance, she would see plots +where no plots were, and consider that her most dignified course +was to suffer in silence--an attitude of passivity as regards +winning AFfection which of course led to DISaffection. Moreover, +she was so totally lacking in that faculty of "apprehension" to +which I have already referred as being highly developed in our +household, and all her customs were so utterly opposed to those +which had long been rooted in our establishment, that those two +facts alone were bound to go against her. From the first, her mode +of life in our tidy, methodical household was that of a person +only just arrived there. Sometimes she went to bed late, +sometimes early; sometimes she appeared at luncheon, sometimes +she did not; sometimes she took supper, sometimes she dispensed +with it. When we had no guests with us she more often than not +walked about the house in a semi-nude condition, and was not +ashamed to appear before us--even before the servants--in a white +chemise, with only a shawl thrown over her bare shoulders. At +first this Bohemianism pleased me, but before very long it led to +my losing the last shred of respect which I felt for her. What +struck me as even more strange was the fact that, according as we +had or had not guests, she was two different women. The one (the +woman figuring in society) was a young and healthy, but rather +cold, beauty, a person richly dressed, neither stupid nor clever, +and unfailingly cheerful. The other woman (the one in evidence +when no guests were present) was considerably past her first +youth, languid, depressed, slovenly, and ennuyee, though +affectionate. Frequently, as I looked at her when, smiling, rosy +with the winter air, and happy in the consciousness of her +beauty, she came in from a round of calls and, taking off her +hat, went to look at herself in a mirror; or when, rustling in +her rich, decollete ball dress, and at once shy and proud before the +servants, she was passing to her carriage; or when, at one of our +small receptions at home, she was sitting dressed in a high +silken dress finished with some sort of fine lace about her soft +neck, and flashing her unvarying, but lovely, smile around her--as +I looked at her at such times I could not help wondering what +would have been said by persons who had been ravished to behold +her thus if they could have seen her as I often saw her, namely, +when, waiting in the lonely midnight hours for her husband to +return from his club, she would walk like a shadow from room to +room, with her hair dishevelled and her form clad in a sort of +dressing-jacket. Presently, she would sit down to the piano and, +her brows all puckered with the effort, play over the only waltz +that she knew; after which she would pick up a novel, read a few +pages somewhere in the middle of it, and throw it aside. Next, +repairing in person to the dining-room, so as not to disturb the +servants, she would get herself a cucumber and some cold veal, +and eat it standing by the window-sill--then once more resume her +weary, aimless, gloomy wandering from room to room. But what, +above all other things, caused estrangement between us was that +lack of understanding which expressed itself chiefly in the +peculiar air of indulgent attention with which she would listen +when any one was speaking to her concerning matters of which she +had no knowledge. It was not her fault that she acquired the +unconscious habit of bending her head down and smiling slightly +with her lips only when she found it necessary to converse on +topics which did not interest her (which meant any topic except +herself and her husband); yet that smile and that inclination of +the head, when incessantly repeated, could become unbearably +wearisome. Also, her peculiar gaiety--which always sounded as +though she were laughing at herself, at you, and at the world in +general--was gauche and anything but infectious, while her +sympathy was too evidently forced. Lastly, she knew no reticence +with regard to her ceaseless rapturising to all and sundry +concerning her love for Papa. Although she only spoke the truth +when she said that her whole life was bound up with him, and +although she proved it her life long, we considered such +unrestrained, continual insistence upon her affection for him bad +form, and felt more ashamed for her when she was descanting thus +before strangers even than we did when she was perpetrating bad +blunders in French. Yet, although, as I have said, she loved her +husband more than anything else in the world, and he too had a +great affection for her (or at all events he had at first, and +when he saw that others besides himself admired her beauty), it +seemed almost as though she purposely did everything most likely +to displease him--simply to prove to him the strength of her +love, her readiness to sacrifice herself for his sake, and the +fact that her one aim in life was to win his affection! She was +fond of display, and my father too liked to see her as a beauty +who excited wonder and admiration; yet she sacrificed her +weakness for fine clothes to her love for him, and grew more and +more accustomed to remain at home in a plain grey blouse. Again, +Papa considered freedom and equality to be indispensable +conditions of family life, and hoped that his favourite Lubotshka +and his kind-hearted young wife would become sincere friends; yet +once again Avdotia sacrificed herself by considering it incumbent +upon her to pay the "real mistress of the house," as she called +Lubotshka, an amount of deference which only shocked and annoyed +my father. Likewise, he played cards a great deal that winter, +and lost considerable sums towards the end of it, wherefore, +unwilling, as usual, to let his gambling affairs intrude upon his +family life, he began to preserve complete secrecy concerning his +play; yet Avdotia, though often ailing, as well as, towards the +end of the winter, enceinte, considered herself bound always to +sit up (in a grey blouse, and with her hair dishevelled) for my +father when, at, say, four or five o'clock in the morning, he +returned home from the club ashamed, depleted in pocket, and +weary. She would ask him absent-mindedly whether he had been +fortunate in play, and listen with indulgent attention, little +nods of her head, and a faint smile upon her face as he told her +of his doings at the club and begged her, for about the hundredth +time, never to sit up for him again. Yet, though Papa's winnings +or losings (upon which his substance practically depended) in no +way interested her, she was always the first to meet him when he +returned home in the small hours of the morning. This she was +incited to do, not only by the strength of her devotion, but by a +certain secret jealousy from which she suffered. No one in the +world could persuade her that it was REALLY from his club, and +not from a mistress's, that Papa came home so late. She would try +to read love secrets in his face, and, discerning none there, +would sigh with a sort of enjoyment of her grief, and give +herself up once more to the contemplation of her unhappiness. + +As the result of these and many other constant sacrifices which +occurred in Papa's relations with his wife during the +latter months of that winter (a time when he lost much, and was +therefore out of spirits), there gradually grew up between the +two an intermittent feeling of tacit hostility--of restrained +aversion to the object of devotion of the kind which expresses +itself in an unconscious eagerness to show the object in question +every possible species of petty annoyance. + +XLIII + +NEW COMRADES + +The winter had passed imperceptibly and the thaw begun when the +list of examinations was posted at the University, and I suddenly +remembered that I had to return answers to questions in eighteen +subjects on which I had heard lectures delivered, but with regard +to some of which I had taken no notes and made no preparation +whatever. It seems strange that the question "How am I going to +pass?" should never have entered my head, but the truth is that +all that winter I had been in such a state of haze through the +delights of being both grown-up and "comme il faut" that, +whenever the question of the examinations had occurred to me, I +had mentally compared myself with my comrades, and thought to +myself, "They are certain to pass, and as most of them are not +'comme il faut,' and I am therefore their personal superior, I +too am bound to come out all right." In fact, the only reason why +I attended lectures at all was that I might become an habitue of +the University, and obtain Papa's leave to go in and out of the +house. Moreover, I had many acquaintances now, and often enjoyed +myself vastly at the University. I loved the racket, talking, and +laughter in the auditorium, the opportunities for sitting on a +back bench, and letting the measured voice of the professor lure +one into dreams as one contemplated one's comrades, the +occasional runnings across the way for a snack and a glass of +vodka (sweetened by the fearful joy of knowing that one might be +hauled before the professor for so doing), the stealthy closing +of the door as one returned to the auditorium, and the +participation in "course versus course" scuffles in the +corridors. All this was very enjoyable. + +By the time, however, that every one had begun to put in a better +attendance at lectures, and the professor of physics had +completed his course and taken his leave of us until the +examinations came on, and the students were busy collecting their +notebooks and arranging to do their preparation in parties, it +struck me that I also had better prepare for the ordeal. Operoff, +with whom I still continued on bowing, but otherwise most frigid, +terms, suddenly offered not only to lend me his notebooks, but to +let me do my preparation with himself and some other students. I +thanked him, and accepted the invitation--hoping by that +conferment of honour completely to dissipate our old +misunderstanding; but at the same time I requested that the +gatherings should always be held at my home, since my quarters +were so splendid! To this the students replied that they meant to +take turn and turn about--sometimes to meet at one fellow's +place, sometimes at another's, as might be most convenient. + +The first of our reunions was held at Zuchin's, who had a small +partition-room in a large building on the Trubni Boulevard. The +opening night I arrived late, and entered when the reading aloud +had already begun. The little apartment was thick with tobacco- +smoke, while on the table stood a bottle of vodka, a decanter, +some bread, some salt, and a shin-bone of mutton. Without rising, +Zuchin asked me to have some vodka and to doff my tunic. + +"I expect you are not accustomed to such entertainment," he +added. + +Every one was wearing a dirty cotton shirt and a dickey. +Endeavouring not to show my contempt for the company, I took off +my tunic, and lay down in a sociable manner on the sofa. Zuchin +went on reading aloud and correcting himself with the help of +notebooks, while the others occasionally stopped him to ask a +question, which he always answered with ability, correctness, and +precision. I listened for a time with the rest, but, not +understanding much of it, since I had not been present at what +had been read before, soon interpolated a question. + +"Hullo, old fellow! It will be no good for you to listen if you +do not know the subject," said Zuchin. "I will lend you my +notebooks, and then you can read it up by to-morrow, and I will +explain it to you." + +I felt rather ashamed of my ignorance. Also, I felt the truth of +what he said; so I gave up listening, and amused myself by +observing my new comrades. According to my classification of +humanity, into persons "comme il faut" and persons not "comme il +faut," they evidently belonged to the latter category, and so +aroused in me not only a feeling of contempt, but also a certain +sensation of personal hostility, for the reason that, though not +"comme il faut," they accounted me their equal, and actually +patronised me in a sort of good-humoured fashion. What in +particular excited in me this feeling was their feet, their dirty +nails and fingers, a particularly long talon on Operoff's +obtrusive little finger, their red shirts, their dickeys, the +chaff which they good-naturedly threw at one another, the dirty +room, a habit which Zuchin had of continually snuffling and +pressing a finger to his nose, and, above all, their manner of +speaking--that is to say, their use and intonation of words. For +instance, they said "flat" for fool, "just the ticket" for +exactly, "grandly" for splendidly, and so on--all of which seemed +to me either bookish or disagreeably vulgar. Still more was my +"comme il faut " refinement disturbed by the accents which they +put upon certain Russian--and, still more, upon foreign--words. +Thus they said dieYATelnost for DIEyatelnost, NARochno for +naROChno, v'KAMinie for v'kaMINie, SHAKespeare for ShakesPEARe, +and so forth. + +Yet, for all their insuperably repellent exterior, I could detect +something good in these fellows, and envied them the cheerful +good-fellowship which united them in one. Consequently, I began to +feel attracted towards them, and made up my mind that, come what +might, I would become of their number. The kind and honourable +Operoff I knew already, and now the brusque, but exceptionally +clever, Zuchin (who evidently took the lead in this circle) began +to please me greatly. He was a dark, thick-set little fellow, +with a perennially glistening, polished face, but one that was +extremely lively, intellectual, and independent in its +expression. That expression it derived from a low, but +prominent, forehead, deep black eyes, short, bristly hair, and a +thick, dark beard which looked as though it stood in constant +need of trimming. Although, too, he seemed to think nothing of +himself (a trail which always pleased me in people), it was clear +that he never let his brain rest. He had one of those expressive +faces which, a few hours after you have seen them for the first +time, change suddenly and entirely to your view. Such a change +took place, in my eyes, with regard to Zuchin's face towards the +end of that evening. Suddenly, I seemed to see new wrinkles appear +upon its surface, its eyes grow deeper, its smile become a +different one, and the whole face assume such an altered aspect +that I scarcely recognised it. + +When the reading was ended, Zuchin, the other students, and +myself manifested our desire to be "comrades all" by drinking +vodka until little remained in the bottle. Thereupon Zuchin asked +if any one had a quarter-rouble to spare, so that he could send +the old woman who looked after him to buy some more; yet, on my +offering to provide the money, he made as though he had not heard +me, and turned to Operoff, who pulled out a purse sewn with +bugles, and handed him the sum required. + +"And mind you don't get drunk," added the giver, who himself had +not partaken of the vodka. + +"By heavens!" answered Zuchin as he sucked the marrow out of a +mutton bone (I remember thinking that it must be because he ate +marrow that he was so clever). "By heavens!" he went on with a +slight smile (and his smile was of the kind that one +involuntarily noticed, and somehow felt grateful for), "even if I +did get drunk, there would be no great harm done. I wonder which +of us two could look after himself the better--you or I? Anyway I +am willing to make the experiment," and he slapped his forehead +with mock boastfulness. "But what a pity it is that Semenoff has +disappeared! He has gone and completely hidden himself +somewhere." + +Sure enough, the grey-haired Semenoff who had comforted me so +much at my first examination by being worse dressed than myself, +and who, after passing the second examination, had attended his +lectures regularly during the first month, had disappeared +thereafter from view, and never been seen at the University +throughout the latter part of the course. + +"Where is he?" asked some one. + +"I do not know" replied Zuchin. "He has escaped my eye +altogether. Yet what fun I used to have with him! What fire there +was in the man! and what an intellect! I should be indeed sorry +if he has come to grief--and come to grief he probably has, for +he was no mere boy to take his University course in instalments." + +After a little further conversation, and agreeing to meet again +the next night at Zuchin's, since his abode was the most central +point for us all, we began to disperse. As, one by one, we left +the room, my conscience started pricking me because every one +seemed to be going home on foot, whereas I had my drozhki. +Accordingly, with some hesitation I offered Operoff a lift. +Zuchin came to the door with us, and, after borrowing a rouble of +Operoff, went off to make a night of it with some friends. As we +drove along, Operoff told me a good deal about Zuchin's character +and mode of life, and on reaching home it was long before I could +get to sleep for thinking of the new acquaintances I had made. +For many an hour, as I lay awake, I kept wavering between the +respect which their knowledge, simplicity, and sense of honour, +as well as the poetry of their youth and courage, excited in my +regard, and the distaste which I felt for their outward man. In +spite of my desire to do so, it was at that time literally +impossible for me to associate with them, since our ideas were +too wholly at variance. For me, life's meaning and charm contained +an infinitude of shades of which they had not an inkling, and +vice versa. The greatest obstacles of all, however, to our better +acquaintance I felt to be the twenty roubles' worth of cloth in +my tunic, my drozhki, and my white linen shirt; and they appeared +to me most important obstacles, since they made me feel as though +I had unwittingly insulted these comrades by displaying such +tokens of my wealth. I felt guilty in their eyes, and as though, +whether I accepted or rejected their acquittal and took a line of +my own, I could never enter into equal and unaffected relations +with them. Yet to such an extent did the stirring poetry of the +courage which I could detect in Zuchin (in particular) overshadow +the coarse, vicious side of his nature that the latter made no +unpleasant impression upon me. + +For a couple of weeks I visited Zuchin's almost every night for +purposes of work. Yet I did very little there, since, as I have +said, I had lost ground at the start, and, not having sufficient +grit in me to catch up my companions by solitary study, was +forced merely to PRETEND that I was listening to and taking in +all they were reading. I have an idea, too, that they divined my +pretence, since I often noticed that they passed over points +which they themselves knew without first inquiring of me whether +I did the same. Yet, day by day, I was coming to regard the +vulgarity of this circle with more indulgence, to feel +increasingly drawn towards its way of life, and to find in it +much that was poetical. Only my word of honour to Dimitri that I +would never indulge in dissipation with these new comrades kept +me from deciding also to share their diversions. + +Once, I thought I would make a display of my knowledge of +literature, particularly French literature, and so led the +conversation to that theme. Judge, then, of my surprise when I +discovered that not only had my companions been reading the +foreign passages in Russian, but that they had studied far more +foreign works than I had, and knew and could appraise English, +and even Spanish, writers of whom I had never so much as heard! +Likewise, Pushkin and Zhukovski represented to them LITERATURE, +and not, as to myself, certain books in yellow covers which I had +once read and studied when a child. For Dumas and Sue they had an +almost equal contempt, and, in general, were competent to form +much better and clearer judgments on literary matters than I was, +for all that I refused to recognise the fact. In knowledge of +music, too, I could not beat them, and was astonished to find +that Operoff played the violin, and another student the cello +and piano, while both of them were members of the University +orchestra, and possessed a wide knowledge of and appreciation of +good music. In short, with the exception of the French and German +languages, my companions were better posted at every point than I +was, yet not the least proud of the fact. True, I might have +plumed myself on my position as a man of the world, but Woloda +excelled me even in that. Wherein, then, lay the height from +which I presumed to look down upon these comrades? In my +acquaintanceship with Prince Ivan Ivanovitch? In my ability to +speak French? In my drozhki? In my linen shirt? In my finger- +nails? "Surely these things are all rubbish," was the thought +which would come flitting through my head under the influence of +the envy which the good-fellowship and kindly, youthful gaiety +displayed around me excited in my breast. Every one addressed his +interlocutor in the second person singular. True, the familiarity +of this address almost approximated to rudeness, yet even the +boorish exterior of the speaker could not conceal a constant +endeavour never to hurt another one's feelings. The terms "brute" +or "swine," when used in this good-natured fashion, only +convulsed me, and gave me cause for inward merriment. In no way +did they offend the person addressed, or prevent the company at +large from remaining on the most sincere and friendly footing. In +all their intercourse these youths were delicate and forbearing +in a way that only very poor and very young men can be. However +much I might detect in Zuchin's character and amusements an +element of coarseness and profligacy, I could also detect the +fact that his drinking-bouts were of a very different order to +the puerility with burnt rum and champagne in which I had +participated at Baron Z.'s. + +XLIV + +ZUCHIN AND SEMENOFF + +Although I do not know what class of society Zuchin belonged to, +I know that, without the help either of means or social position, +he had matriculated from the Seventh Gymnasium. At that time he +was eighteen--though he looked much older--and very clever, +especially in his powers of assimilation. To him it was easier to +survey the whole of some complicated subject, to foresee its +various parts and deductions, than to use that knowledge, when +gained, for reasoning out the exact laws to which those +deductions were due. He knew that he was clever, and of the fact +he was proud; yet from that very pride arose the circumstance that +he treated every one with unvarying simplicity and good-nature. +Moreover, his experience of life must have been considerable, +for already he had squandered much love, friendship, activity, +and money. Though poor and moving only in the lower ranks of +society, there was nothing which he had ever attempted for +which he did not thenceforth feel the contempt, the indifference, +or the utter disregard which were bound to result from his +attaining his goal too easily. In fact, the very ardour with +which he applied himself to a new pursuit seemed to be due +to his contempt for what he had already attained, since his +abilities always led him to success, and therefore to a certain +right to despise it. With the sciences it was the same. Though +little interested in them, and taking no notes, he knew +mathematics thoroughly, and was uttering no vain boast when he +said that he could beat the professor himself. Much of what he +heard said in lectures he thought rubbish, yet with his peculiar +habit of unconsciously practical roguishness he feigned to +subscribe to all that the professors thought important, and every +professor adored him. True, he was outspoken to the authorities, +but they none the less respected him. Besides disliking and +despising the sciences, he despised all who laboured to attain +what he himself had mastered so easily, since the sciences, as he +understood them, did not occupy one-tenth part of his powers. In +fact, life, as he saw it from the student's standpoint, contained +nothing to which he could devote himself wholly, and his +impetuous, active nature (as he himself often said) demanded life +complete: wherefore he frequented the drinking-bout in so far as +he could afford it, and surrendered himself to dissipation +chiefly out of a desire to get as far away from himself as +possible. Consequently, just as the examinations were +approaching, Operoff's prophecy to me came true, for Zuchin +wasted two whole weeks in this fashion, and we had to do the +latter part of our preparation at another student's. Yet at the +first examination he reappeared with pale, haggard face and +tremulous hands, and passed brilliantly into the second course! + +The company of roisterers of which Zuchin had been the leader +since its formation at the beginning of the term consisted of +eight students, among whom, at first, had been numbered Ikonin +and Semenoff; but the former had left under the strain of the +continuous revelry in which the band had indulged in the early +part of the term, and the latter seceded later for reasons which +were never wholly explained. In its early days this band had been +looked upon with awe by all the fellows of our course, and had +had its exploits much discussed. Of these exploits the leading +heroes had been Zuchin and, towards the end of the term, +Semenoff, but the latter had come to be generally shunned, and to +cause disturbances on the rare occasions when he attended a +lecture. Just before the examinations began, he rounded off his +drinking exploits in a most energetic and original fashion, as I +myself had occasion to witness (through my acquaintanceship with +Zuchin). This is how it was. One evening we had just assembled at +Zuchin's, and Operoff, reinforcing a candlestick with a candle +stuck in a bottle, had just plunged his nose into his notebooks +and begun to read aloud in his thin voice from his neatly-written +notes on physics, when the landlady entered the room, and +informed Zuchin that some one had brought a note for him . . +.[The remainder of this chapter is omitted in the original.] + +XLV + +I COME TO GRIEF + +At length the first examination--on differentials and integrals-- +drew near, but I continued in a vague state which precluded me +from forming any clear idea of what was awaiting me. Every +evening, after consorting with Zuchin and the rest, the thought +would occur to me that there was something in my convictions +which I must change - something wrong and mistaken; yet every +morning the daylight would find me again satisfied to be "comme +il faut," and desirous of no change whatsoever. + +Such was the frame of mind in which I attended for the first +examination. I seated myself on the bench where the princes, +counts, and barons always sat, and began talking to them in +French, with the not unnatural result that I never gave another +thought to the answers which I was shortly to return to questions +in a subject of which I knew nothing. I gazed supinely at other +students as they went up to be examined, and even allowed myself +to chaff some of them. + +"Well, Grap," I said to Ilinka (who, from our first entry into +the University, had shaken off my influence, had ceased to smile +when I spoke to him, and always remained ill-disposed towards +me), "have you survived the ordeal?" + +"Yes," retorted Ilinka. "Let us see if YOU can do so." + +I smiled contemptuously at the answer, notwithstanding that the +doubt which he had expressed had given me a momentary shock. Once +again, however, indifference overlaid that feeling, and I +remained so entirely absent-minded and supine that, the very +moment after I had been examined (a mere formality for me, as it +turned out) I was making a dinner appointment with Baron Z. When +called out with Ikonin, I smoothed the creases in my uniform, and +walked up to the examiner's table with perfect sang froid. + +True, a slight shiver of apprehension ran down my back when the +young professor--the same one as had examined me for my +matriculation--looked me straight in the face as I reached across +to the envelope containing the tickets. Ikonin, though taking a +ticket with the same plunge of his whole body as he had done at +the previous examinations, did at least return some sort of an +answer this time, though a poor one. I, on the contrary, did just +as he had done on the two previous occasions, or even worse, +since I took a second ticket, yet for a second time returned no +answer. The professor looked me compassionately in the face, and +said in a quiet, but determined, voice: + +"You will not pass into the second course, Monsieur Irtenieff. +You had better not complete the examinations. The faculty must be +weeded out. The same with you, Monsieur Ikonin." + +Ikonin implored leave to finish the examinations, as a great +favour, but the professor replied that he (Ikonin) was not likely +to do in two days what he had not succeeded in doing in a year, +and that he had not the smallest chance of passing. Ikonin +renewed his humble, piteous appeals, but the professor was +inexorable. + +"You can go, gentlemen," he remarked in the same quiet, resolute +voice. + +I was only too glad to do so, for I felt ashamed of seeming, by +my silent presence, to be joining in Ikonin's humiliating prayers +for grace. I have no recollection of how I threaded my way +through the students in the hall, nor of what I replied to their +questions, nor of how I passed into the vestibule and departed +home. I was offended, humiliated, and genuinely unhappy. + +For three days I never left my room, and saw no one, but found +relief in copious tears. I should have sought a pistol to shoot +myself if I had had the necessary determination for the deed. I +thought that Ilinka Grap would spit in my face when he next met +me, and that he would have the right to do so; that Operoff would +rejoice at my misfortune, and tell every one of it; that +Kolpikoff had justly shamed me that night at the restaurant; that +my stupid speeches to Princess Kornikoff had had their fitting +result; and so on, and so on. All the moments in my life which +had been for me most difficult and painful recurred to my mind. I +tried to blame some one for my calamity, and thought that some +one must have done it on purpose--must have conspired a whole +intrigue against me. Next, I murmured against the professors, +against my comrades, Woloda, Dimitri, and Papa (the last for +having sent me to the University at all). Finally, I railed at +Providence for ever having let me see such ignominy. Believing +myself ruined for ever in the eyes of all who knew me, I besought +Papa to let me go into the hussars or to the Caucasus. Naturally, +Papa was anything but pleased at what had happened; yet, on +seeing my passionate grief, he comforted me by saying that, +though it was a bad business, it might yet be mended by my +transferring to another faculty. Woloda, who also saw nothing +very terrible in my misfortune, added that at least I should not +be put out of countenance in a new faculty, since I should have +new comrades there. As for the ladies of the household, they +neither knew nor cared what either an examination or a plucking +meant, and condoled with me only because they saw me in such +distress. Dimitri came to see me every day, and was very kind and +consolatory throughout; but for that very reason he seemed to me +to have grown colder than before. It always hurt me and made me +feel uncomfortable when he came up to my room and seated himself +in silence beside me, much as a doctor might scat himself by the +bedside of an awkward patient. Sophia Ivanovna and Varenika sent +me books for which I had expressed a wish, as also an invitation +to go and see them, but in that very thoughtfulness of theirs I +saw only proud, humiliating condescension to one who had fallen +beyond forgiveness. Although, in three days' time, I grew calmer, +it was not until we departed for the country that I left the +house, but spent the time in nursing my grief and wandering, +fearful of all the household, through the various rooms. + +One evening, as I was sitting deep in thought and listening to +Avdotia playing her waltz, I suddenly leapt to my feet, ran +upstairs, got out the copy-book whereon I had once inscribed +"Rules of My Life," opened it, and experienced my first moment of +repentance and moral resolution. True, I burst into tears once +more, but they were no longer tears of despair. Pulling myself +together, I set about writing out a fresh set of rules, in the +assured conviction that never again would I do a wrong action, +waste a single moment on frivolity, or alter the rules which I +now decided to frame. + +How long that moral impulse lasted, what it consisted of, and +what new principles I devised for my moral growth I will relate +when speaking of the ensuing and happier portion of my early +manhood. + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Youth, by by Leo Tolstoy + +--2008-09-02 13:13:01-- http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext01/youth10.txt +Resolving www.gutenberg.org... 152.46.7.81 +Connecting to www.gutenberg.org|152.46.7.81|:80... connected. +HTTP request sent, awaiting response... 200 OK +Length: 384312 (375K) [text/plain] +Saving to: `youth10.txt' + + 0K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 13% 144K 2s + 50K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 26% 568K 1s + 100K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 39% 600K 1s + 150K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 53% 1.48M 0s + 200K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 66% 835K 0s + 250K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 79% 601K 0s + 300K .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... 93% 1.48M 0s + 350K .......... .......... ..... 100% 458K=0.8s + +2008-09-02 13:13:02 (479 KB/s) - `youth10.txt' saved [384312/384312] + diff --git a/media/text/chekhov.txt b/media/text/chekhov.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4f4c4fa --- /dev/null +++ b/media/text/chekhov.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9732 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Plays by Chekhov, Second Series, by Anton Chekhov + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Plays by Chekhov, Second Series + On the High Road, The Proposal, The Wedding, The Bear, A + Tragedian In Spite of Himself, The Anniversary, The Three + Sisters, The Cherry Orchard + +Author: Anton Chekhov + +Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7986] +Posting Date: August 8, 2009 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAYS BY CHEKHOV, SECOND SERIES *** + + + + +Produced by James Rusk and Nicole Apostola + + + + + +PLAYS BY ANTON CHEKHOV, SECOND SERIES + +By Anton Chekhov + +Translated, with an Introduction, by Julius West + +[The First Series Plays have been previously published +by Project Gutenberg in etext numbers: 1753 through 1756] + + +CONTENTS + + INTRODUCTION + ON THE HIGH ROAD + THE PROPOSAL + THE WEDDING + THE BEAR + A TRAGEDIAN IN SPITE OF HIMSELF + THE ANNIVERSARY + THE THREE SISTERS + THE CHERRY ORCHARD + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +The last few years have seen a large and generally unsystematic mass of +translations from the Russian flung at the heads and hearts of English +readers. The ready acceptance of Chekhov has been one of the few +successful features of this irresponsible output. He has been welcomed +by British critics with something like affection. Bernard Shaw has +several times remarked: "Every time I see a play by Chekhov, I want to +chuck all my own stuff into the fire." Others, having no such valuable +property to sacrifice on the altar of Chekhov, have not hesitated +to place him side by side with Ibsen, and the other established +institutions of the new theatre. For these reasons it is pleasant to +be able to chronicle the fact that, by way of contrast with the casual +treatment normally handed out to Russian authors, the publishers are +issuing the complete dramatic works of this author. In 1912 they brought +out a volume containing four Chekhov plays, translated by Marian Fell. +All the dramatic works not included in her volume are to be found in the +present one. With the exception of Chekhov's masterpiece, "The Cherry +Orchard" (translated by the late Mr. George Calderon in 1912), none of +these plays have been previously published in book form in England or +America. + +It is not the business of a translator to attempt to outdo all others in +singing the praises of his raw material. This is a dangerous process and +may well lead, as it led Mr. Calderon, to drawing the reader's +attention to points of beauty not to be found in the original. A few +bibliographical details are equally necessary, and permissible, and the +elementary principles of Chekhov criticism will also be found useful. + +The very existence of "The High Road" (1884); probably the earliest +of its author's plays, will be unsuspected by English readers. During +Chekhov's lifetime it a sort of family legend, after his death it became +a family mystery. A copy was finally discovered only last year in the +Censor's office, yielded up, and published. It had been sent in 1885 +under the nom-de-plume "A. Chekhonte," and it had failed to pass. The +Censor, of the time being had scrawled his opinion on the manuscript, +"a depressing and dirty piece,--cannot be licensed." The name of the +gentleman who held this view--Kaiser von Kugelgen--gives another reason +for the educated Russian's low opinion of German-sounding institutions. +Baron von Tuzenbach, the satisfactory person in "The Three Sisters," +it will be noted, finds it as well, while he is trying to secure the +favours of Irina, to declare that his German ancestry is fairly remote. +This is by way of parenthesis. "The High Road," found after thirty +years, is a most interesting document to the lover of Chekhov. Every +play he wrote in later years was either a one-act farce or a four-act +drama. [Note: "The Swan Song" may occur as an exception. This, however, +is more of a Shakespeare recitation than anything else, and so neither +here nor there.] + +In "The High Road" we see, in an embryonic form, the whole later method +of the plays--the deliberate contrast between two strong characters +(Bortsov and Merik in this case), the careful individualization of each +person in a fairly large group by way of an introduction to the main +theme, the concealment of the catastrophe, germ-wise, in the actual +character of the characters, and the of a distinctive group-atmosphere. +It need scarcely be stated that "The High Road" is not a "dirty" piece +according to Russian or to German standards; Chekhov was incapable of +writing a dirty play or story. For the rest, this piece differs from the +others in its presentation, not of Chekhov's favourite middle-classes, +but of the moujik, nourishing, in a particularly stuffy atmosphere, an +intense mysticism and an equally intense thirst for vodka. + +"The Proposal" (1889) and "The Bear" (1890) may be taken as good +examples of the sort of humour admired by the average Russian. The +latter play, in another translation, was put on as a curtain-raiser to a +cinematograph entertainment at a London theatre in 1914; and had quite a +pleasant reception from a thoroughly Philistine audience. The humour is +very nearly of the variety most popular over here, the psychology is a +shade subtler. The Russian novelist or dramatist takes to psychology as +some of his fellow-countrymen take to drink; in doing this he achieves +fame by showing us what we already know, and at the same time he kills +his own creative power. Chekhov just escaped the tragedy of suicide by +introspection, and was only enabled to do this by the possession of +a sense of humour. That is why we should not regard "The Bear," "The +Wedding," or "The Anniversary" as the work of a merely humorous young +man, but as the saving graces which made perfect "The Cherry Orchard." + +"The Three Sisters" (1901) is said to act better than any other of +Chekhov's plays, and should surprise an English audience exceedingly. It +and "The Cherry Orchard" are the tragedies of doing nothing. The three +sisters have only one desire in the world, to go to Moscow and live +there. There is no reason on earth, economic, sentimental, or other, why +they should not pack their bags and take the next train to Moscow. But +they will not do it. They cannot do it. And we know perfectly well that +if they were transplanted thither miraculously, they would be extremely +unhappy as soon as ever the excitement of the miracle had worn off. In +the other play Mme. Ranevsky can be saved from ruin if she will only +consent to a perfectly simple step--the sale of an estate. She cannot do +this, is ruined, and thrown out into the unsympathetic world. Chekhov is +the dramatist, not of action, but of inaction. The tragedy of inaction +is as overwhelming, when we understand it, as the tragedy of an Othello, +or a Lear, crushed by the wickedness of others. The former is being +enacted daily, but we do not stage it, we do not know how. But who +shall deny that the base of almost all human unhappiness is just this +inaction, manifesting itself in slovenliness of thought and execution, +education, and ideal? + +The Russian, painfully conscious of his own weakness, has accepted this +point of view, and regards "The Cherry Orchard" as its master-study in +dramatic form. They speak of the palpitating hush which fell upon the +audience of the Moscow Art Theatre after the first fall of the curtain +at the first performance--a hush so intense as to make Chekhov's friends +undergo the initial emotions of assisting at a vast theatrical failure. +But the silence ryes almost a sob, to be followed, when overcome, by an +epic applause. And, a few months later, Chekhov died. + +This volume and that of Marian Fell--with which it is uniform--contain +all the dramatic works of Chekhov. It considered not worth while to +translate a few fragments published posthumously, or a monologue "On the +Evils of Tobacco"--a half humorous lecture by "the husband of his wife;" +which begins "Ladies, and in some respects, gentlemen," as this is +hardly dramatic work. There is also a very short skit on the efficiency +of provincial fire brigades, which was obviously not intended for the +stage and has therefore been omitted. + +Lastly, the scheme of transliteration employed has been that, generally +speaking, recommended by the Liverpool School of Russian Studies. This +is distinctly the best of those in the field, but as it would compel +one, e.g., to write a popular female name, "Marya," I have not treated +it absolute respect. For the sake of uniformity with Fell's volume, the +author's name is spelt Tchekoff on the title-page and cover. + +J. W. + + +RUSSIAN WEIGHTS AND MEASURES + +AND MONEY EMPLOYED IN THE PLAYS, WITH ENGLISH EQUIVALENTS + + 1 verst = 3600 feet = 2/3 mile (almost) + 1 arshin = 28 inches + 1 dessiatin = 2.7 acres + 1 copeck = 1/4 d + 1 rouble = 100 copecks = 2s. 1d. + + + + + +ON THE HIGH ROAD + +A DRAMATIC STUDY + + +CHARACTERS + + TIHON EVSTIGNEYEV, the proprietor of a inn on the main road + SEMYON SERGEYEVITCH BORTSOV, a ruined landowner + MARIA EGOROVNA, his wife + SAVVA, an aged pilgrim + NAZAROVNA and EFIMOVNA, women pilgrims + FEDYA, a labourer + EGOR MERIK, a tramp + KUSMA, a driver + POSTMAN + BORTSOV'S WIFE'S COACHMAN + PILGRIMS, CATTLE-DEALERS, ETC. + +The action takes place in one of the provinces of Southern Russia + + +[The scene is laid in TIHON'S bar. On the right is the bar-counter and +shelves with bottles. At the back is a door leading out of the house. +Over it, on the outside, hangs a dirty red lantern. The floor and the +forms, which stand against the wall, are closely occupied by pilgrims +and passers-by. Many of them, for lack of space, are sleeping as they +sit. It is late at night. As the curtain rises thunder is heard, and +lightning is seen through the door.] + + +[TIHON is behind the counter. FEDYA is half-lying in a heap on one +of the forms, and is quietly playing on a concertina. Next to him +is BORTSOV, wearing a shabby summer overcoat. SAVVA, NAZAROVNA, and +EFIMOVNA are stretched out on the floor by the benches.] + +EFIMOVNA. [To NAZAROVNA] Give the old man a nudge dear! Can't get any +answer out of him. + +NAZAROVNA. [Lifting the corner of a cloth covering of SAVVA'S face] Are +you alive or are you dead, you holy man? + +SAVVA. Why should I be dead? I'm alive, mother! [Raises himself on his +elbow] Cover up my feet, there's a saint! That's it. A bit more on the +right one. That's it, mother. God be good to us. + +NAZAROVNA. [Wrapping up SAVVA'S feet] Sleep, little father. + +SAVVA. What sleep can I have? If only I had the patience to endure this +pain, mother; sleep's quite another matter. A sinner doesn't deserve to +be given rest. What's that noise, pilgrim-woman? + +NAZAROVNA. God is sending a storm. The wind is wailing, and the rain is +pouring down, pouring down. All down the roof and into the windows like +dried peas. Do you hear? The windows of heaven are opened... [Thunder] +Holy, holy, holy... + +FEDYA. And it roars and thunders, and rages, sad there's no end to +it! Hoooo... it's like the noise of a forest.... Hoooo.... The wind is +wailing like a dog.... [Shrinking back] It's cold! My clothes are wet, +it's all coming in through the open door... you might put me through a +wringer.... [Plays softly] My concertina's damp, and so there's no music +for you, my Orthodox brethren, or else I'd give you such a concert, my +word!--Something marvellous! You can have a quadrille, or a polka, if +you like, or some Russian dance for two.... I can do them all. In the +town, where I was an attendant at the Grand Hotel, I couldn't make any +money, but I did wonders on my concertina. And, I can play the guitar. + +A VOICE FROM THE CORNER. A silly speech from a silly fool. + +FEDYA. I can hear another of them. [Pause.] + +NAZAROVNA. [To SAVVA] If you'd only lie where it was warm now, old man, +and warm your feet. [Pause.] Old man! Man of God! [Shakes SAVVA] Are you +going to die? + +FEDYA. You ought to drink a little vodka, grandfather. Drink, and it'll +burn, burn in your stomach, and warm up your heart. Drink, do! + +NAZAROVNA. Don't swank, young man! Perhaps the old man is giving back +his soul to God, or repenting for his sins, and you talk like that, and +play your concertina.... Put it down! You've no shame! + +FEDYA. And what are you sticking to him for? He can't do anything and +you... with your old women's talk... He can't say a word in reply, and +you're glad, and happy because he's listening to your nonsense.... You +go on sleeping, grandfather; never mind her! Let her talk, don't you +take any notice of her. A woman's tongue is the devil's broom--it will +sweep the good man and the clever man both out of the house. Don't +you mind.... [Waves his hands] But it's thin you are, brother of mine! +Terrible! Like a dead skeleton! No life in you! Are you really dying? + +SAVVA. Why should I die? Save me, O Lord, from dying in vain.... I'll +suffer a little, and then get up with God's help.... The Mother of God +won't let me die in a strange land.... I'll die at home. + +FEDYA. Are you from far off? + +SAVVA. From Vologda. The town itself.... I live there. + +FEDYA. And where is this Vologda? + +TIHON. The other side of Moscow.... + +FEDYA. Well, well, well.... You have come a long way, old man! On foot? + +SAVVA. On foot, young man. I've been to Tihon of the Don, and I'm +going to the Holy Hills. [Note: On the Donetz, south-east of Kharkov; a +monastery containing a miraculous ikon.]... From there, if God wills it, +to Odessa.... They say you can get to Jerusalem cheap from there, for +twenty-ones roubles, they say.... + +FEDYA. And have you been to Moscow? + +SAVVA. Rather! Five times.... + +FEDYA. Is it a good town? [Smokes] Well-standing? + +Sews. There are many holy places there, young man.... Where there are +many holy places it's always a good town.... + +BORTSOV. [Goes up to the counter, to TIHON] Once more, please! For the +sake of Christ, give it to me! + +FEDYA. The chief thing about a town is that it should be clean. If it's +dusty, it must be watered; if it's dirty, it must be cleaned. There +ought to be big houses... a theatre... police... cabs, which... I've +lived in a town myself, I understand. + +BORTSOV. Just a little glass. I'll pay you for it later. + +TIHON. That's enough now. + +BORTSOV. I ask you! Do be kind to me! + +TIHON. Get away! + +BORTSOV. You don't understand me.... Understand me, you fool, if there's +a drop of brain in your peasant's wooden head, that it isn't I who am +asking you, but my inside, using the words you understand, that's what's +asking! My illness is what's asking! Understand! + +TIHON. We don't understand anything.... Get back! + +BORTSOV. Because if I don't have a drink at once, just you understand +this, if I don't satisfy my needs, I may commit some crime. God only +knows what I might do! In the time you've kept this place, you rascal, +haven't you seen a lot of drunkards, and haven't you yet got to +understand what they're like? They're diseased! You can do anything you +like to them, but you must give them vodka! Well, now, I implore you! +Please! I humbly ask you! God only knows how humbly! + +TIHON. You can have the vodka if you pay for it. + +BORTSOV. Where am I to get the money? I've drunk it all! Down to the +ground! What can I give you? I've only got this coat, but I can't give +you that. I've nothing on underneath.... Would you like my cap? [Takes +it off and gives it to TIHON] + +TIHON. [Looks it over] Hm.... There are all sorts of caps.... It might +be a sieve from the holes in it.... + +FEDYA. [Laughs] A gentleman's cap! You've got to take it off in front of +the mam'selles. How do you do, good-bye! How are you? + +TIHON. [Returns the cap to BORTSOV] I wouldn't give anything for it. +It's muck. + +BORTSOV. If you don't like it, then let me owe you for the drink! I'll +bring in your five copecks on my way back from town. You can take it and +choke yourself with it then! Choke yourself! I hope it sticks in your +throat! [Coughs] I hate you! + +TIHON. [Banging the bar-counter with his fist] Why do you keep on like +that? What a man! What are you here for, you swindler? + +BORTSOV. I want a drink! It's not I, it's my disease! Understand that! + +TIHON. Don't you make me lose my temper, or you'll soon find yourself +outside! + +BORTSOV. What am I to do? [Retires from the bar-counter] What am I to +do? [Is thoughtful.] + +EFIMOVNA. It's the devil tormenting you. Don't you mind him, sir. The +damned one keeps whispering, "Drink! Drink!" And you answer him, "I +shan't drink! I shan't drink!" He'll go then. + +FEDYA. It's drumming in his head.... His stomach's leading him on! +[Laughs] Your houour's a happy man. Lie down and go to sleep! What's the +use of standing like a scarecrow in the middle of the inn! This isn't an +orchard! + +BORTSOV. [Angrily] Shut up! Nobody spoke to you, you donkey. + +FEDYA. Go on, go on! We've seen the like of you before! There's a lot +like you tramping the high road! As to being a donkey, you wait till +I've given you a clout on the ear and you'll howl worse than the wind. +Donkey yourself! Fool! [Pause] Scum! + +NAZAROVNA. The old man may be saying a prayer, or giving up his soul +to God, and here are these unclean ones wrangling with one another and +saying all sorts of... Have shame on yourselves! + +FEDYA. Here, you cabbage-stalk, you keep quiet, even if you are in a +public-house. Just you behave like everybody else. + +BORTSOV. What am I to do? What will become of me? How can I make him +understand? What else can I say to him? [To TIHON] The blood's boiling +in my chest! Uncle Tihon! [Weeps] Uncle Tihon! + +SAWA. [Groans] I've got shooting-pains in my leg, like bullets of +fire.... Little mother, pilgrim. + +EFIMOVNA. What is it, little father? + +SAVVA. Who's that crying? + +EFIMOVNA. The gentleman. + +SAVVA. Ask him to shed a tear for me, that I might die in Vologda. +Tearful prayers are heard. + +BORTSOV. I'm not praying, grandfather! These aren't tears! Just juice! +My soul is crushed; and the juice is running. [Sits by SAVVA] Juice! +But you wouldn't understand! You, with your darkened brain, wouldn't +understand. You people are all in the dark! + +SAVVA. Where will you find those who live in the light? + +BORTSOV. They do exist, grandfather.... They would understand! + +SAVVA. Yes, yes, dear friend.... The saints lived in the light.... They +understood all our griefs.... You needn't even tell them.... and they'll +understand.... Just by looking at your eyes.... And then you'll have +such peace, as if you were never in grief at all--it will all go! + +FEDYA. And have you ever seen any saints? + +SAVVA. It has happened, young man.... There are many of all sorts on +this earth. Sinners, and servants of God. + +BORTSOV. I don't understand all this.... [Gets up quickly] What's the +use of talking when you don't understand, and what sort of a brain have +I now? I've only an instinct, a thirst! [Goes quickly to the counter] +Tihon, take my coat! Understand? [Tries to take it off] My coat... + +TIHON. And what is there under your coat? [Looks under it] Your naked +body? Don't take it off, I shan't have it.... I'm not going to burden my +soul with a sin. + +[Enter MERIK.] + +BORTSOV. Very well, I'll take the sin on myself! Do you agree? + +MERIK. [In silence takes of his outer cloak and remains in a sleeveless +jacket. He carries an axe in his belt] A vagrant may sweat where a bear +will freeze. I am hot. [Puts his axe on the floor and takes off his +jacket] You get rid of a pailful of sweat while you drag one leg out of +the mud. And while you are dragging it out, the other one goes farther +in. + +EFIMOVNA. Yes, that's true... is the rain stopping, dear? + +MERIK. [Glancing at EFIMOVNA] I don't talk to old women. [A pause.] + +BORTSOV. [To TIHON] I'll take the sin on myself. Do you hear me or don't +you? + +TIHON. I don't want to hear you, get away! + +MERIK. It's as dark as if the sky was painted with pitch. You can't +see your own nose. And the rain beats into your face like a snowstorm! +[Picks up his clothes and axe.] + +FEDYA. It's a good thing for the likes of us thieves. When the cat's +away the mice will play. + +MERIK. Who says that? + +FEDYA. Look and see... before you forget. + +MERIN. We'll make a note of it.... [Goes up to TIHON] How do you do, you +with the large face! Don't you remember me. + +TIHON. If I'm to remember every one of you drunkards that walks the high +road, I reckon I'd need ten holes in my forehead. + +MERIK. Just look at me.... [A pause.] + +TIHON. Oh, yes; I remember. I knew you by your eyes! [Gives him his +hand] Andrey Polikarpov? + +MERIK. I used to be Andrey Polikarpov, but now I am Egor Merik. + +TIHON. Why's that? + +MERIK. I call myself after whatever passport God gives me. I've been +Merik for two months. [Thunder] Rrrr.... Go on thundering, I'm not +afraid! [Looks round] Any police here? + +TIHON. What are you talking about, making mountains out of +mole-hills?... The people here are all right... The police are fast +asleep in their feather beds now.... [Loudly] Orthodox brothers, mind +your pockets and your clothes, or you'll have to regret it. The man's a +rascal! He'll rob you! + +MERIK. They can look out for their money, but as to their clothes--I +shan't touch them. I've nowhere to take them. + +TIHON. Where's the devil taking you to? + +MERIK. To Kuban. + +TIHON. My word! + +FEDYA. To Kuban? Really? [Sitting up] It's a fine place. You wouldn't +see such a country, brother, if you were to fall asleep and dream for +three years. They say the birds there, and the beasts are--my God! The +grass grows all the year round, the people are good, and they've so much +land they don't know what to do with it! The authorities, they say... a +soldier was telling me the other day... give a hundred dessiatins ahead. +There's happiness, God strike me! + +MERIK. Happiness.... Happiness goes behind you.... You don't see it. +It's as near as your elbow is, but you can't bite it. It's all +silly.... [Looking round at the benches and the people] Like a lot of +prisoners.... A poor lot. + +EFIMOVNA. [To MERIK] What great, angry, eyes! There's an enemy in you, +young man.... Don't you look at us! + +MERIK. Yes, you're a poor lot here. + +EFIMOVNA. Turn away! [Nudges SAVVA] Savva, darling, a wicked man is +looking at us. He'll do us harm, dear. [To MERIK] Turn away, I tell you, +you snake! + +SAVVA. He won't touch us, mother, he won't touch us.... God won't let +him. + +MERIK. All right, Orthodox brothers! [Shrugs his shoulders] Be quiet! +You aren't asleep, you bandy-legged fools! Why don't you say something? + +EFIMOVNA. Take your great eyes away! Take away that devil's own pride! + +MERIK. Be quiet, you crooked old woman! I didn't come with the devil's +pride, but with kind words, wishing to honour your bitter lot! You're +huddled together like flies because of the cold--I'd be sorry for you, +speak kindly to you, pity your poverty, and here you go grumbling away! +[Goes up to FEDYA] Where are you from? + +FEDYA. I live in these parts. I work at the Khamonyevsky brickworks. + +MERIK. Get up. + +FEDYA. [Raising himself] Well? + +MERIK. Get up, right up. I'm going to lie down here. + +FEDYA. What's that.... It isn't your place, is it? + +MERIK. Yes, mine. Go and lie on the ground! + +FEDYA. You get out of this, you tramp. I'm not afraid of you. + +MERIK. You're very quick with your tongue.... Get up, and don't talk +about it! You'll be sorry for it, you silly. + +TIHON. [To FEDYA] Don't contradict him, young man. Never mind. + +FEDYA. What right have you? You stick out your fishy eyes and think +I'm afraid! [Picks up his belongings and stretches himself out on the +ground] You devil! [Lies down and covers himself all over.] + +MERIK. [Stretching himself out on the bench] I don't expect you've ever +seen a devil or you wouldn't call me one. Devils aren't like that. [Lies +down, putting his axe next to him.] Lie down, little brother axe... let +me cover you. + +TIHON. Where did you get the axe from? + +MERIK. Stole it.... Stole it, and now I've got to fuss over it like a +child with a new toy; I don't like to throw it away, and I've nowhere to +put it. Like a beastly wife.... Yes.... [Covering himself over] Devils +aren't like that, brother. + +FEDYA. [Uncovering his head] What are they like? + +MERIK. Like steam, like air.... Just blow into the air. [Blows] They're +like that, you can't see them. + +A VOICE FROM THE CORNER. You can see them if you sit under a harrow. + +MERIK. I've tried, but I didn't see any.... Old women's tales, and silly +old men's, too.... You won't see a devil or a ghost or a corpse.... Our +eyes weren't made so that we could see everything.... When I was a boy, +I used to walk in the woods at night on purpose to see the demon of the +woods.... I'd shout and shout, and there might be some spirit, I'd call +for the demon of the woods and not blink my eyes: I'd see all sorts of +little things moving about, but no demon. I used to go and walk about +the churchyards at night, I wanted to see the ghosts--but the women lie. +I saw all sorts of animals, but anything awful--not a sign. Our eyes +weren't... + +THE VOICE FROM THE CORNER. Never mind, it does happen that you +do see.... In our village a man was gutting a wild boar... he was +separating the tripe when... something jumped out at him! + +SAVVA. [Raising himself] Little children, don't talk about these unclean +things! It's a sin, dears! + +MERIK. Aaa... greybeard! You skeleton! [Laughs] You needn't go to the +churchyard to see ghosts, when they get up from under the floor to give +advice to their relations.... A sin!... Don't you teach people your +silly notions! You're an ignorant lot of people living in darkness.... +[Lights his pipe] My father was peasant and used to be fond of teaching +people. One night he stole a sack of apples from the village priest, and +he brings them along and tells us, "Look, children, mind you don't eat +any apples before Easter, it's a sin." You're like that.... You don't +know what a devil is, but you go calling people devils.... Take this +crooked old woman, for instance. [Points to EFIMOVNA] She sees an enemy +in me, but is her time, for some woman's nonsense or other, she's given +her soul to the devil five times. + +EFIMOVNA. Hoo, hoo, hoo.... Gracious heavens! [Covers her face] Little +Savva! + +TIHON. What are you frightening them for? A great pleasure! [The door +slams in the wind] Lord Jesus.... The wind, the wind! + +MERIK. [Stretching himself] Eh, to show my strength! [The door slams +again] If I could only measure myself against the wind! Shall I tear the +door down, or suppose I tear up the inn by the roots! [Gets up and lies +down again] How dull! + +NAZAROVNA. You'd better pray, you heathen! Why are you so restless? + +EFIMOVNA. Don't speak to him, leave him alone! He's looking at us again. +[To MERIK] Don't look at us, evil man! Your eyes are like the eyes of a +devil before cockcrow! + +SAVVA. Let him look, pilgrims! You pray, and his eyes won't do you any +harm. + +BORTSOV. No, I can't. It's too much for my strength! [Goes up to the +counter] Listen, Tihon, I ask you for the last time.... Just half a +glass! + +TIHON. [Shakes his head] The money! + +BORTSOV. My God, haven't I told you! I've drunk it all! Where am I to +get it? And you won't go broke even if you do let me have a drop of +vodka on tick. A glass of it only costs you two copecks, and it will +save me from suffering! I am suffering! Understand! I'm in misery, I'm +suffering! + +TIHON. Go and tell that to someone else, not to me.... Go and ask the +Orthodox, perhaps they'll give you some for Christ's sake, if they feel +like it, but I'll only give bread for Christ's sake. + +BORTSOV. You can rob those wretches yourself, I shan't.... I won't do +it! I won't! Understand? [Hits the bar-counter with his fist] I won't. +[A pause.] Hm... just wait.... [Turns to the pilgrim women] It's an +idea, all the same, Orthodox ones! Spare five copecks! My inside asks +for it. I'm ill! + +FEDYA. Oh, you swindler, with your "spare five copecks." Won't you have +some water? + +BORTSOV. How I am degrading myself! I don't want it! I don't want +anything! I was joking! + +MERIK. You won't get it out of him, sir.... He's a famous skinflint.... +Wait, I've got a five-copeck piece somewhere.... We'll have a glass +between us--half each [Searches in his pockets] The devil... it's lost +somewhere.... Thought I heard it tinkling just now in my pocket.... No; +no, it isn't there, brother, it's your luck! [A pause.] + +BORTSOV. But if I can't drink, I'll commit a crime or I'll kill +myself.... What shall I do, my God! [Looks through the door] Shall I go +out, then? Out into this darkness, wherever my feet take me.... + +MERIK. Why don't you give him a sermon, you pilgrims? And you, Tihon, +why don't you drive him out? He hasn't paid you for his night's +accommodation. Chuck him out! Eh, the people are cruel nowadays. There's +no gentleness or kindness in them.... A savage people! A man is drowning +and they shout to him: "Hurry up and drown, we've got no time to look +at you; we've got to go to work." As to throwing him a rope--there's no +worry about that.... A rope would cost money. + +SAVVA. Don't talk, kind man! + +MERIK. Quiet, old wolf! You're a savage race! Herods! Sellers of your +souls! [To TIHON] Come here, take off my boots! Look sharp now! + +TIHON. Eh, he's let himself go I [Laughs] Awful, isn't it. + +MERIK. Go on, do as you're told! Quick now! [Pause] Do you hear me, or +don't you? Am I talking to you or the wall? [Stands up] + +TIHON. Well... give over. + +MERIK. I want you, you fleecer, to take the boots off me, a poor tramp. + +TIHON. Well, well... don't get excited. Here have a glass.... Have a +drink, now! + +MERIK. People, what do I want? Do I want him to stand me vodka, or to +take off my boots? Didn't I say it properly? [To TIHON] Didn't you hear +me rightly? I'll wait a moment, perhaps you'll hear me then. + +[There is excitement among the pilgrims and tramps, who half-raise +themselves in order to look at TIHON and MERIK. They wait in silence.] + +TIHON. The devil brought you here! [Comes out from behind the bar] What +a gentleman! Come on now. [Takes off MERIK'S boots] You child of Cain... + +MERIK. That's right. Put them side by side.... Like that... you can go +now! + +TIHON. [Returns to the bar-counter] You're too fond of being clever. You +do it again and I'll turn you out of the inn! Yes! [To BORTSOV, who is +approaching] You, again? + +BORTSOV. Look here, suppose I give you something made of gold.... I will +give it to you. + +TIHON. What are you shaking for? Talk sense! + +BORTSOV. It may be mean and wicked on my part, but what am I to do? I'm +doing this wicked thing, not reckoning on what's to come.... If I was +tried for it, they'd let me off. Take it, only on condition that you +return it later, when I come back from town. I give it to you in front +of these witnesses. You will be my witnesses! [Takes a gold medallion +out from the breast of his coat] Here it is.... I ought to take the +portrait out, but I've nowhere to put it; I'm wet all over.... Well, +take the portrait, too! Only mind this... don't let your fingers touch +that face.... Please... I was rude to you, my dear fellow, I was a fool, +but forgive me and... don't touch it with your fingers.... Don't look at +that face with your eyes. [Gives TIHON the medallion.] + +TIHON. [Examining it] Stolen property.... All right, then, drink.... +[Pours out vodka] Confound you. + +BORTSOV. Only don't you touch it... with your fingers. [Drinks slowly, +with feverish pauses.] + +TIHON. [Opens the medallion] Hm... a lady!... Where did you get hold of +this? + +MERIK. Let's have a look. [Goes to the bar] Let's see. + +TIHON. [Pushes his hand away] Where are you going to? You look somewhere +else! + +FEDYA. [Gets up and comes to TIHON] I want to look too! + +[Several of the tramps, etc., approach the bar and form a group. MERIK +grips TIHON's hand firmly with both his, looks at the portrait, in the +medallion in silence. A pause.] + +MERIK. A pretty she-devil. A real lady.... + +FEDYA. A real lady.... Look at her cheeks, her eyes.... Open your hand, +I can't see. Hair coming down to her waist.... It is lifelike! She might +be going to say something.... [Pause.] + +MERIK. It's destruction for a weak man. A woman like that gets a hold on +one and... [Waves his hand] you're done for! + +[KUSMA'S voice is heard. "Trrr.... Stop, you brutes!" Enter KUSMA.] + +KUSMA. There stands an inn upon my way. Shall I drive or walk past it, +say? You can pass your own father and not notice him, but you can see an +inn in the dark a hundred versts away. Make way, if you believe in God! +Hullo, there! [Planks a five-copeck piece down on the counter] A glass +of real Madeira! Quick! + +FEDYA. Oh, you devil! + +TIHON. Don't wave your arms about, or you'll hit somebody. + +KUSMA. God gave us arms to wave about. Poor sugary things, you're +half-melted. You're frightened of the rain, poor delicate things. +[Drinks.] + +EFIMOVNA. You may well get frightened, good man, if you're caught on +your way in a night like this. Now, thank God, it's all right, there +are many villages and houses where you can shelter from the weather, but +before that there weren't any. Oh, Lord, it was bad! You walk a hundred +versts, and not only isn't there a village; or a house, but you don't +even see a dry stick. So you sleep on the ground.... + +KUSMA. Have you been long on this earth, old woman? + +EFIMOVNA. Over seventy years, little father. + +KUSMA. Over seventy years! You'll soon come to crow's years. [Looks at +BORTSOV] And what sort of a raisin is this? [Staring at BORTSOV] Sir! +[BORTSOV recognizes KUSMA and retires in confusion to a corner of the +room, where he sits on a bench] Semyon Sergeyevitch! Is that you, or +isn't it? Eh? What are you doing in this place? It's not the sort of +place for you, is it? + +BORTSOV. Be quiet! + +MERIK. [To KUSMA] Who is it? + +KUSMA. A miserable sufferer. [Paces irritably by the counter] Eh? In an +inn, my goodness! Tattered! Drunk! I'm upset, brothers... upset.... +[To MERIK, in an undertone] It's my master... our landlord. Semyon +Sergeyevitch and Mr. Bortsov.... Have you ever seen such a state? What +does he look like? Just... it's the drink that brought him to this.... +Give me some more! [Drinks] I come from his village, Bortsovka; you may +have heard of it, it's 200 versts from here, in the Ergovsky district. +We used to be his father's serfs.... What a shame! + +MERIK. Was he rich? + +KUSMA. Very. + +MERIK. Did he drink it all? + +KUSMA. No, my friend, it was something else.... He used to be great and +rich and sober.... [To TIHON] Why you yourself used to see him riding, +as he used to, past this inn, on his way to the town. Such bold and +noble horses! A carriage on springs, of the best quality! He used to +own five troikas, brother.... Five years ago, I remember, he cam here +driving two horses from Mikishinsky, and he paid with a five-rouble +piece.... I haven't the time, he says, to wait for the change.... There! + +MERIK. His brain's gone, I suppose. + +KUSMA. His brain's all right.... It all happened because of his +cowardice! From too much fat. First of all, children, because of a +woman.... He fell in love with a woman of the town, and it seemed to him +that there wasn't any more beautiful thing in the wide world. A fool may +love as much as a wise man. The girl's people were all right.... But +she wasn't exactly loose, but just... giddy... always changing her mind! +Always winking at one! Always laughing and laughing.... No sense at all. +The gentry like that, they think that's nice, but we moujiks would soon +chuck her out.... Well, he fell in love, and his luck ran out. He began +to keep company with her, one thing led to another... they used to go +out in a boat all night, and play pianos.... + +BORTSOV. Don't tell them, Kusma! Why should you? What has my life got to +do with them? + +KUSMA. Forgive me, your honour, I'm only telling them a little... what +does it matter, anyway.... I'm shaking all over. Pour out some more. +[Drinks.] + +MERIK. [In a semitone] And did she love him? + +KUSMA. [In a semitone which gradually becomes his ordinary voice] How +shouldn't she? He was a man of means.... Of course you'll fall in love +when the man has a thousand dessiatins and money to burn.... He was a +solid, dignified, sober gentleman... always the same, like this... give +me your hand [Takes MERIK'S hand] "How do you do and good-bye, do me +the favour." Well, I was going one evening past his garden--and what a +garden, brother, versts of it--I was going along quietly, and I look and +see the two of them sitting on a seat and kissing each other. [Imitates +the sound] He kisses her once, and the snake gives him back two.... He +was holding her white, little hand, and she was all fiery and kept on +getting closer and closer, too.... "I love you," she says. And he, like +one of the damned, walks about from one place to another and brags, +the coward, about his happiness.... Gives one man a rouble, and two to +another.... Gives me money for a horse. Let off everybody's debts.... + +BORTSOV. Oh, why tell them all about it? These people haven't any +sympathy.... It hurts! + +KUSMA. It's nothing, sir! They asked me! Why shouldn't I tell them? +But if you are angry I won't... I won't.... What do I care for them.... +[Post-bells are heard.] + +FEDYA. Don't shout; tell us quietly.... + +KUSMA. I'll tell you quietly.... He doesn't want me to, but it can't be +helped.... But there's nothing more to tell. They got married, that's +all. There was nothing else. Pour out another drop for Kusma the stony! +[Drinks] I don't like people getting drunk! Why the time the wedding +took place, when the gentlefolk sat down to supper afterwards, she went +off in a carriage... [Whispers] To the town, to her lover, a lawyer.... +Eh? What do you think of her now? Just at the very moment! She would be +let off lightly if she were killed for it! + +MERIK. [Thoughtfully] Well... what happened then? + +KUSMA. He went mad.... As you see, he started with a fly, as they say, +and now it's grown to a bumble-bee. It was a fly then, and now--it's +a bumble-bee.... And he still loves her. Look at him, he loves her! I +expect he's walking now to the town to get a glimpse of her with one +eye.... He'll get a glimpse of her, and go back.... + +[The post has driven up to the in.. The POSTMAN enters and has a drink.] + +TIHON. The post's late to-day! + +[The POSTMAN pays in silence and goes out. The post drives off, the +bells ringing.] + +A VOICE FROM THE CORNER. One could rob the post in weather like +this--easy as spitting. + +MERIK. I've been alive thirty-five years and I haven't robbed the post +once.... [Pause] It's gone now... too late, too late.... + +KUSMA. Do you want to smell the inside of a prison? + +MERIK. People rob and don't go to prison. And if I do go! [Suddenly] +What else? + +KUSMA. Do you mean that unfortunate? + +MERIK. Who else? + +KUSMA. The second reason, brothers, why he was ruined was because of +his brother-in-law, his sister's husband.... He took it into his head to +stand surety at the bank for 30,000 roubles for his brother-in-law. The +brother-in-law's a thief.... The swindler knows which side his bread's +buttered and won't budge an inch.... So he doesn't pay up.... So our man +had to pay up the whole thirty thousand. [Sighs] The fool is suffering +for his folly. His wife's got children now by the lawyer and the +brother-in-law has bought an estate near Poltava, and our man goes +round inns like a fool, and complains to the likes of us: "I've lost all +faith, brothers! I can't believe in anybody now!" It's cowardly! Every +man has his grief, a snake that sucks at his heart, and does that mean +that he must drink? Take our village elder, for example. His wife plays +about with the schoolmaster in broad daylight, and spends his money on +drink, but the elder walks about smiling to himself. He's just a little +thinner... + +TIHON. [Sighs] When God gives a man strength.... + +KUSMA. There's all sorts of strength, that's true.... Well? How much +does it come to? [Pays] Take your pound of flesh! Good-bye, children! +Good-night and pleasant dreams! It's time I hurried off. I'm bringing +my lady a midwife from the hospital.... She must be getting wet with +waiting, poor thing.... [Runs out. A pause.] + +TIHON. Oh, you! Unhappy man, come and drink this! [Pours out.] + +BORTSOV. [Comes up to the bar hesitatingly and drinks] That means I now +owe you for two glasses. + +TIHON. You don't owe me anything? Just drink and drown your sorrows! + +FEDYA. Drink mine, too, sir! Oh! [Throws down a five-copeck piece] If +you drink, you die; if you don't drink, you die. It's good not to drink +vodka, but by God you're easier when you've got some! Vodka takes grief +away.... It is hot! + +BORTSOV. Boo! The heat! + +MERIK. Dive it here! [Takes the medallion from TIHON and examines her +portrait] Hm. Ran off after the wedding. What a woman! + +A VOICE FROM THE CORNER. Pour him out another glass, Tihon. Let him +drink mine, too. + +MERIK. [Dashes the medallion to the ground] Curse her! [Goes quickly to +his place and lies down, face to the wall. General excitement.] + +BORTSOV. Here, what's that? [Picks up the medallion] How dare you, you +beast? What right have you? [Tearfully] Do you want me to kill you? You +moujik! You boor! + +TIHON. Don't be angry, sir.... It isn't glass, it isn't broken.... Have +another drink and go to sleep. [Pours out] Here I've been listening to +you all, and when I ought to have locked up long ago. [Goes and looks +door leading out.] + +BORTSOV. [Drinks] How dare he? The fool! [to MERIK] Do you understand? +You're a fool, a donkey! + +SAVVA. Children! If you please! Stop that talking! What's the good of +making a noise? Let people go to sleep. + +TIHON. Lie down, lie down... be quiet! [Goes behind the counter and +locks the till] It's time to sleep. + +FEDYA. It's time! [Lies down] Pleasant dreams, brothers! + +MERIK. [Gets up and spreads his short fur and coat the bench] Come on, +lie down, sir. + +TIHON. And where will you sleep. + +MERIK. Oh, anywhere.... The floor will do.... [Spreads a coat on the +floor] It's all one to me [Puts the axe by him] It would be torture for +him to sleep on the floor. He's used to silk and down.... + +TIHON. [To BORTSOV] Lie down, your honour! You've looked at that +portrait long enough. [Puts out a candle] Throw it away! + +BORTSOV. [Swaying about] Where can I lie down? + +TIHON. In the tramp's place! Didn't you hear him giving it up to you? + +BORTSOV. [Going up to the vacant place] I'm a bit... drunk... after all +that.... Is this it?... Do I lie down here? Eh? + +TIHON. Yes, yes, lie down, don't be afraid. [Stretches himself out on +the counter.] + +BORTSOV. [Lying down] I'm... drunk.... Everything's going round.... +[Opens the medallion] Haven't you a little candle? [Pause] You're +a queer little woman Masha.... Looking at me out of the frame and +laughing.... [Laughs] I'm drunk! And should you laugh at a man because +he's drunk? You look out, as Schastlivtsev says, and... love the +drunkard. + +FEDYA. How the wind howls. It's dreary! + +BORTSOV. [Laughs] What a woman.... Why do you keep on going round? I +can't catch you! + +MERIK. He's wandering. Looked too long at the portrait. [Laughs] What +a business! Educated people go and invent all sorts of machines and +medicines, but there hasn't yet been a man wise enough to invent a +medicine against the female sex.... They try to cure every sort of +disease, and it never occurs to them that more people die of women +than of disease.... Sly, stingy, cruel, brainless.... The mother-in-law +torments the bride and the bride makes things square by swindling the +husband... and there's no end to it.... + +TIHON. The women have ruffled his hair for him, and so he's bristly. + +MERIK. It isn't only I.... From the beginning of the ages, since the +world has been in existence, people have complained.... It's not for +nothing that in the songs and stories, the devil and the woman are put +side by side.... Not for nothing! It's half true, at any rate... [Pause] +Here's the gentleman playing the fool, but I had more sense, didn't I, +when I left my father and mother, and became a tramp? + +FEDYA. Because of women? + +MERIK. Just like the gentleman... I walked about like one of the damned, +bewitched, blessing my stars... on fire day and night, until at last my +eyes were opened... It wasn't love, but just a fraud.... + +FEDYA. What did you do to her? + +MERIK. Never you mind.... [Pause] Do you think I killed her?... I +wouldn't do it.... If you kill, you are sorry for it.... She can live +and be happy! If only I'd never set eyes on you, or if I could only +forget you, you viper's brood! [A knocking at the door.] + +TIHON. Whom have the devils brought.... Who's there? [Knocking] Who +knocks? [Gets up and goes to the door] Who knocks? Go away, we've locked +up! + +A VOICE. Please let me in, Tihon. The carriage-spring's broken! Be a +father to me and help me! If I only had a little string to tie it round +with, we'd get there somehow or other. + +TIHON. Who are you? + +THE VOICE. My lady is going to Varsonofyev from the town.... It's only +five versts farther on.... Do be a good man and help! + +TIHON. Go and tell the lady that if she pays ten roubles she can have +her string and we'll mend the spring. + +THE VOICE. Have you gone mad, or what? Ten roubles! You mad dog! +Profiting by our misfortunes! + +TIHON. Just as you like.... You needn't if you don't want to. + +THE VOICE. Very well, wait a bit. [Pause] She says, all right. + +TIHON. Pleased to hear it! + +[Opens door. The COACHMAN enters.] + +COACHMAN. Good evening, Orthodox people! Well, give me the string! +Quick! Who'll go and help us, children? There'll be something left over +for your trouble! + +TIHON. There won't be anything left over.... Let them sleep, the two of +us can manage. + +COACHMAN. Foo, I am tired! It's cold, and there's not a dry spot in all +the mud.... Another thing, dear.... Have you got a little room in here +for the lady to warm herself in? The carriage is all on one side, she +can't stay in it.... + +TIHON. What does she want a room for? She can warm herself in here, if +she's cold.... We'll find a place [Clears a space next to BORTSOV] Get +up, get up! Just lie on the floor for an hour, and let the lady get +warm. [To BORTSOV] Get up, your honour! Sit up! [BORTSOV sits up] Here's +a place for you. [Exit COACHMAN.] + +FEDYA. Here's a visitor for you, the devil's brought her! Now there'll +be no sleep before daylight. + +TIHON. I'm sorry I didn't ask for fifteen.... She'd have given them.... +[Stands expectantly before the door] You're a delicate sort of people, I +must say. [Enter MARIA EGOROVNA, followed by the COACHMAN. TIHON bows.] +Please, your highness! Our room is very humble, full of blackbeetles! +But don't disdain it! + +MARIA EGOROVNA. I can't see anything.... Which way do I go? + +TIHON. This way, your highness! [Leads her to the place next to BORTSOV] +This way, please. [Blows on the place] I haven't any separate rooms, +excuse me, but don't you be afraid, madam, the people here are good and +quiet.... + +MARIA EGOROVNA. [Sits next to BORTSOV] How awfully stuffy! Open the +door, at any rate! + +TIHON. Yes, madam. [Runs and opens the door wide.] + +MARIA. We're freezing, and you open the door! [Gets up and slams it] Who +are you to be giving orders? [Lies down] + +TIHON. Excuse me, your highness, but we've a little fool here... a bit +cracked.... But don't you be frightened, he won't do you any harm.... +Only you must excuse me, madam, I can't do this for ten roubles.... Make +it fifteen. + +MARIA EGOROVNA. Very well, only be quick. + +TIHON. This minute... this very instant. [Drags some string out from +under the counter] This minute. [A pause.] + +BORTSOV. [Looking at MARIA EGOROVNA] Marie... Masha... + +MARIA EGOROVNA. [Looks at BORTSOV] What's this? + +BORTSOV. Marie... is it you? Where do you come from? [MARIA EGOROVNA +recognizes BORTSOV, screams and runs off into the centre of the floor. +BORTSOV follows] Marie, it is I... I [Laughs loudly] My wife! Marie! +Where am I? People, a light! + +MARIA EGOROVNA. Get away from me! You lie, it isn't you! It can't be! +[Covers her face with her hands] It's a lie, it's all nonsense! + +BORTSOV. Her voice, her movements.... Marie, it is I! I'll stop in +a moment.... I was drunk.... My head's going round.... My God! Stop, +stop.... I can't understand anything. [Yells] My wife! [Falls at her +feet and sobs. A group collects around the husband and wife.] + +MARIA EGOROVNA. Stand back! [To the COACHMAN] Denis, let's go! I can't +stop here any longer! + +MERIK. [Jumps up and looks her steadily in the face] The portrait! +[Grasps her hand] It is she! Eh, people, she's the gentleman's wife! + +MARIA EGOROVNA. Get away, fellow! [Tries to tear her hand away from him] +Denis, why do you stand there staring? [DENIS and TIHON run up to her +and get hold of MERIK'S arms] This thieves' kitchen! Let go my hand! I'm +not afraid!... Get away from me! + +MERIK. [Note: Throughout this speech, in the original, Merik uses the +familiar second person singular.] Wait a bit, and I'll let go.... Just +let me say one word to you.... One word, so that you may understand.... +Just wait.... [Turns to TIHON and DENIS] Get away, you rogues, let go! I +shan't let you go till I've had my say! Stop... one moment. [Strikes +his forehead with his fist] No, God hasn't given me the wisdom! I can't +think of the word for you! + +MARIA EGOROVNA. [Tears away her hand] Get away! Drunkards... let's go, +Denis! + +[She tries to go out, but MERIK blocks the door.] + +MERIK. Just throw a glance at him, with only one eye if you like! Or say +only just one kind little word to him! God's own sake! + +MARIA EGOROVNA. Take away this... fool. + +MERIK. Then the devil take you, you accursed woman! + +[He swings his axe. General confusion. Everybody jumps up noisily and +with cries of horror. SAVVA stands between MERIK and MARIA EGOROVNA.... +DENIS forces MERIK to one side and carries out his mistress. After this +all stand as if turned to stone. A prolonged pause. BORTSOV suddenly +waves his hands in the air.] + +BORTSOV. Marie... where are you, Marie! + +NAZAROVNA. My God, my God! You've torn up my your murderers! What an +accursed night! + +MERIK. [Lowering his hand; he still holds the axe] Did I kill her or no? + + HIGH ROAD + +TIHON. Thank God, your head is safe.... + +MERIK. Then I didn't kill her.... [Totters to his bed] Fate hasn't sent +me to my death because of a stolen axe.... [Falls down and sobs] Woe! +Woe is me! Have pity on me, Orthodox people! + +Curtain. + + + + + +THE PROPOSAL + + +CHARACTERS + + STEPAN STEPANOVITCH CHUBUKOV, a landowner + NATALYA STEPANOVNA, his daughter, twenty-five years old + IVAN VASSILEVITCH LOMOV, a neighbour of Chubukov, a large and + hearty, but very suspicious landowner + +The scene is laid at CHUBUKOV's country-house + + +A drawing-room in CHUBUKOV'S house. + +[LOMOV enters, wearing a dress-jacket and white gloves. CHUBUKOV rises +to meet him.] + +CHUBUKOV. My dear fellow, whom do I see! Ivan Vassilevitch! I am +extremely glad! [Squeezes his hand] Now this is a surprise, my +darling... How are you? + +LOMOV. Thank you. And how may you be getting on? + +CHUBUKOV. We just get along somehow, my angel, to your prayers, and +so on. Sit down, please do.... Now, you know, you shouldn't forget all +about your neighbours, my darling. My dear fellow, why are you so formal +in your get-up? Evening dress, gloves, and so on. Can you be going +anywhere, my treasure? + +LOMOV. No, I've come only to see you, honoured Stepan Stepanovitch. + +CHUBUKOV. Then why are you in evening dress, my precious? As if you're +paying a New Year's Eve visit! + +LOMOV. Well, you see, it's like this. [Takes his arm] I've come to you, +honoured Stepan Stepanovitch, to trouble you with a request. Not once or +twice have I already had the privilege of applying to you for help, and +you have always, so to speak... I must ask your pardon, I am getting +excited. I shall drink some water, honoured Stepan Stepanovitch. +[Drinks.] + +CHUBUKOV. [Aside] He's come to borrow money! Shan't give him any! +[Aloud] What is it, my beauty? + +LOMOV. You see, Honour Stepanitch... I beg pardon, Stepan Honouritch... +I mean, I'm awfully excited, as you will please notice.... In short, you +alone can help me, though I don't deserve it, of course... and haven't +any right to count on your assistance.... + +CHUBUKOV. Oh, don't go round and round it, darling! Spit it out! Well? + +LOMOV. One moment... this very minute. The fact is, I've come to ask the +hand of your daughter, Natalya Stepanovna, in marriage. + +CHUBUKOV. [Joyfully] By Jove! Ivan Vassilevitch! Say it again--I didn't +hear it all! + +LOMOV. I have the honour to ask... + +CHUBUKOV. [Interrupting] My dear fellow... I'm so glad, and so on.... +Yes, indeed, and all that sort of thing. [Embraces and kisses LOMOV] +I've been hoping for it for a long time. It's been my continual desire. +[Sheds a tear] And I've always loved you, my angel, as if you were my +own son. May God give you both His help and His love and so on, and I +did so much hope... What am I behaving in this idiotic way for? I'm off +my balance with joy, absolutely off my balance! Oh, with all my soul... +I'll go and call Natasha, and all that. + +LOMOV. [Greatly moved] Honoured Stepan Stepanovitch, do you think I may +count on her consent? + +CHUBUKOV. Why, of course, my darling, and... as if she won't consent! +She's in love; egad, she's like a love-sick cat, and so on.... Shan't be +long! [Exit.] + +LOMOV. It's cold... I'm trembling all over, just as if I'd got an +examination before me. The great thing is, I must have my mind made up. +If I give myself time to think, to hesitate, to talk a lot, to look for +an ideal, or for real love, then I'll never get married.... Brr!... It's +cold! Natalya Stepanovna is an excellent housekeeper, not bad-looking, +well-educated.... What more do I want? But I'm getting a noise in +my ears from excitement. [Drinks] And it's impossible for me not to +marry.... In the first place, I'm already 35--a critical age, so to +speak. In the second place, I ought to lead a quiet and regular life.... +I suffer from palpitations, I'm excitable and always getting awfully +upset.... At this very moment my lips are trembling, and there's a +twitch in my right eyebrow.... But the very worst of all is the way +I sleep. I no sooner get into bed and begin to go off when suddenly +something in my left side--gives a pull, and I can feel it in my +shoulder and head.... I jump up like a lunatic, walk about a bit, and +lie down again, but as soon as I begin to get off to sleep there's +another pull! And this may happen twenty times.... + +[NATALYA STEPANOVNA comes in.] + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Well, there! It's you, and papa said, "Go; there's a +merchant come for his goods." How do you do, Ivan Vassilevitch! + +LOMOV. How do you do, honoured Natalya Stepanovna? + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. You must excuse my apron and négligé... we're +shelling peas for drying. Why haven't you been here for such a long +time? Sit down. [They seat themselves] Won't you have some lunch? + +LOMOV. No, thank you, I've had some already. + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Then smoke.... Here are the matches.... The weather +is splendid now, but yesterday it was so wet that the workmen didn't +do anything all day. How much hay have you stacked? Just think, I felt +greedy and had a whole field cut, and now I'm not at all pleased about +it because I'm afraid my hay may rot. I ought to have waited a bit. But +what's this? Why, you're in evening dress! Well, I never! Are you going +to a ball, or what?--though I must say you look better. Tell me, why are +you got up like that? + +LOMOV. [Excited] You see, honoured Natalya Stepanovna... the fact is, +I've made up my mind to ask you to hear me out.... Of course you'll be +surprised and perhaps even angry, but a... [Aside] It's awfully cold! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What's the matter? [Pause] Well? + +LOMOV. I shall try to be brief. You must know, honoured Natalya +Stepanovna, that I have long, since my childhood, in fact, had the +privilege of knowing your family. My late aunt and her husband, from +whom, as you know, I inherited my land, always had the greatest respect +for your father and your late mother. The Lomovs and the Chubukovs +have always had the most friendly, and I might almost say the most +affectionate, regard for each other. And, as you know, my land is a near +neighbour of yours. You will remember that my Oxen Meadows touch your +birchwoods. + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Excuse my interrupting you. You say, "my Oxen +Meadows...." But are they yours? + +LOMOV. Yes, mine. + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What are you talking about? Oxen Meadows are ours, +not yours! + +LOMOV. No, mine, honoured Natalya Stepanovna. + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Well, I never knew that before. How do you make that +out? + +LOMOV. How? I'm speaking of those Oxen Meadows which are wedged in +between your birchwoods and the Burnt Marsh. + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Yes, yes.... They're ours. + +LOMOV. No, you're mistaken, honoured Natalya Stepanovna, they're mine. + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Just think, Ivan Vassilevitch! How long have they +been yours? + +LOMOV. How long? As long as I can remember. + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Really, you won't get me to believe that! + +LOMOV. But you can see from the documents, honoured Natalya Stepanovna. +Oxen Meadows, it's true, were once the subject of dispute, but now +everybody knows that they are mine. There's nothing to argue about. +You see, my aunt's grandmother gave the free use of these Meadows in +perpetuity to the peasants of your father's grandfather, in return for +which they were to make bricks for her. The peasants belonging to your +father's grandfather had the free use of the Meadows for forty years, +and had got into the habit of regarding them as their own, when it +happened that... + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. No, it isn't at all like that! Both my grandfather +and great-grandfather reckoned that their land extended to Burnt +Marsh--which means that Oxen Meadows were ours. I don't see what there +is to argue about. It's simply silly! + +LOMOV. I'll show you the documents, Natalya Stepanovna! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. No, you're simply joking, or making fun of me.... +What a surprise! We've had the land for nearly three hundred years, and +then we're suddenly told that it isn't ours! Ivan Vassilevitch, I can +hardly believe my own ears.... These Meadows aren't worth much to me. +They only come to five dessiatins [Note: 13.5 acres], and are worth +perhaps 300 roubles [Note: £30.], but I can't stand unfairness. Say what +you will, but I can't stand unfairness. + +LOMOV. Hear me out, I implore you! The peasants of your father's +grandfather, as I have already had the honour of explaining to you, used +to bake bricks for my aunt's grandmother. Now my aunt's grandmother, +wishing to make them a pleasant... + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I can't make head or tail of all this about aunts +and grandfathers and grandmothers! The Meadows are ours, and that's all. + +LOMOV. Mine. + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Ours! You can go on proving it for two days on end, +you can go and put on fifteen dress-jackets, but I tell you they're +ours, ours, ours! I don't want anything of yours and I don't want to +give up anything of mine. So there! + +LOMOV. Natalya Ivanovna, I don't want the Meadows, but I am acting on +principle. If you like, I'll make you a present of them. + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I can make you a present of them myself, because +they're mine! Your behaviour, Ivan Vassilevitch, is strange, to say the +least! Up to this we have always thought of you as a good neighbour, a +friend: last year we lent you our threshing-machine, although on that +account we had to put off our own threshing till November, but you +behave to us as if we were gipsies. Giving me my own land, indeed! +No, really, that's not at all neighbourly! In my opinion, it's even +impudent, if you want to know.... + +LOMOV. Then you make out that I'm a land-grabber? Madam, never in my +life have I grabbed anybody else's land, and I shan't allow anybody to +accuse me of having done so.... [Quickly steps to the carafe and drinks +more water] Oxen Meadows are mine! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It's not true, they're ours! + +LOMOV. Mine! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It's not true! I'll prove it! I'll send my mowers +out to the Meadows this very day! + +LOMOV. What? + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. My mowers will be there this very day! + +LOMOV. I'll give it to them in the neck! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. You dare! + +LOMOV. [Clutches at his heart] Oxen Meadows are mine! You understand? +Mine! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Please don't shout! You can shout yourself hoarse in +your own house, but here I must ask you to restrain yourself! + +LOMOV. If it wasn't, madam, for this awful, excruciating palpitation, +if my whole inside wasn't upset, I'd talk to you in a different way! +[Yells] Oxen Meadows are mine! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Ours! + +LOMOV. Mine! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Ours! + +LOMOV. Mine! + +[Enter CHUBUKOV.] + +CHUBUKOV. What's the matter? What are you shouting at? + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Papa, please tell to this gentleman who owns Oxen +Meadows, we or he? + +CHUBUKOV. [To LOMOV] Darling, the Meadows are ours! + +LOMOV. But, please, Stepan Stepanitch, how can they be yours? Do be a +reasonable man! My aunt's grandmother gave the Meadows for the temporary +and free use of your grandfather's peasants. The peasants used the land +for forty years and got as accustomed to it as if it was their own, when +it happened that... + +CHUBUKOV. Excuse me, my precious.... You forget just this, that the +peasants didn't pay your grandmother and all that, because the Meadows +were in dispute, and so on. And now everybody knows that they're ours. +It means that you haven't seen the plan. + +LOMOV. I'll prove to you that they're mine! + +CHUBUKOV. You won't prove it, my darling. + +LOMOV. I shall! + +CHUBUKOV. Dear one, why yell like that? You won't prove anything just +by yelling. I don't want anything of yours, and don't intend to give up +what I have. Why should I? And you know, my beloved, that if you propose +to go on arguing about it, I'd much sooner give up the meadows to the +peasants than to you. There! + +LOMOV. I don't understand! How have you the right to give away somebody +else's property? + +CHUBUKOV. You may take it that I know whether I have the right or not. +Because, young man, I'm not used to being spoken to in that tone of +voice, and so on: I, young man, am twice your age, and ask you to speak +to me without agitating yourself, and all that. + +LOMOV. No, you just think I'm a fool and want to have me on! You call +my land yours, and then you want me to talk to you calmly and politely! +Good neighbours don't behave like that, Stepan Stepanitch! You're not a +neighbour, you're a grabber! + +CHUBUKOV. What's that? What did you say? + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Papa, send the mowers out to the Meadows at once! + +CHUBUKOV. What did you say, sir? + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Oxen Meadows are ours, and I shan't give them up, +shan't give them up, shan't give them up! + +LOMOV. We'll see! I'll have the matter taken to court, and then I'll +show you! + +CHUBUKOV. To court? You can take it to court, and all that! You can! I +know you; you're just on the look-out for a chance to go to court, and +all that.... You pettifogger! All your people were like that! All of +them! + +LOMOV. Never mind about my people! The Lomovs have all been honourable +people, and not one has ever been tried for embezzlement, like your +grandfather! + +CHUBUKOV. You Lomovs have had lunacy in your family, all of you! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. All, all, all! + +CHUBUKOV. Your grandfather was a drunkard, and your younger aunt, +Nastasya Mihailovna, ran away with an architect, and so on. + +LOMOV. And your mother was hump-backed. [Clutches at his heart] +Something pulling in my side.... My head.... Help! Water! + +CHUBUKOV. Your father was a guzzling gambler! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. And there haven't been many backbiters to equal your +aunt! + +LOMOV. My left foot has gone to sleep.... You're an intriguer.... Oh, +my heart!... And it's an open secret that before the last elections you +bri... I can see stars.... Where's my hat? + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It's low! It's dishonest! It's mean! + +CHUBUKOV. And you're just a malicious, double-faced intriguer! Yes! + +LOMOV. Here's my hat.... My heart!... Which way? Where's the door? +Oh!... I think I'm dying.... My foot's quite numb.... [Goes to the +door.] + +CHUBUKOV. [Following him] And don't set foot in my house again! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Take it to court! We'll see! + +[LOMOV staggers out.] + +CHUBUKOV. Devil take him! [Walks about in excitement.] + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What a rascal! What trust can one have in one's +neighbours after that! + +CHUBUKOV. The villain! The scarecrow! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. The monster! First he takes our land and then he has +the impudence to abuse us. + +CHUBUKOV. And that blind hen, yes, that turnip-ghost has the confounded +cheek to make a proposal, and so on! What? A proposal! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What proposal? + +CHUBUKOV. Why, he came here so as to propose to you. + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. To propose? To me? Why didn't you tell me so before? + +CHUBUKOV. So he dresses up in evening clothes. The stuffed sausage! The +wizen-faced frump! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. To propose to me? Ah! [Falls into an easy-chair and +wails] Bring him back! Back! Ah! Bring him here. + +CHUBUKOV. Bring whom here? + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Quick, quick! I'm ill! Fetch him! [Hysterics.] + +CHUBUKOV. What's that? What's the matter with you? [Clutches at his +head] Oh, unhappy man that I am! I'll shoot myself! I'll hang myself! +We've done for her! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I'm dying! Fetch him! + +CHUBUKOV. Tfoo! At once. Don't yell! + +[Runs out. A pause. NATALYA STEPANOVNA wails.] + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What have they done to me! Fetch him back! Fetch +him! [A pause.] + +[CHUBUKOV runs in.] + +CHUBUKOV. He's coming, and so on, devil take him! Ouf! Talk to him +yourself; I don't want to.... + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. [Wails] Fetch him! + +CHUBUKOV. [Yells] He's coming, I tell you. Oh, what a burden, Lord, +to be the father of a grown-up daughter! I'll cut my throat! I will, +indeed! We cursed him, abused him, drove him out, and it's all you... +you! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. No, it was you! + +CHUBUKOV. I tell you it's not my fault. [LOMOV appears at the door] Now +you talk to him yourself [Exit.] + +[LOMOV enters, exhausted.] + +LOMOV. My heart's palpitating awfully.... My foot's gone to sleep.... +There's something keeps pulling in my side. + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Forgive us, Ivan Vassilevitch, we were all a little +heated.... I remember now: Oxen Meadows really are yours. + +LOMOV. My heart's beating awfully.... My Meadows.... My eyebrows are +both twitching.... + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. The Meadows are yours, yes, yours.... Do sit +down.... [They sit] We were wrong.... + +LOMOV. I did it on principle.... My land is worth little to me, but the +principle... + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Yes, the principle, just so.... Now let's talk of +something else. + +LOMOV. The more so as I have evidence. My aunt's grandmother gave the +land to your father's grandfather's peasants... + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Yes, yes, let that pass.... [Aside] I wish I knew +how to get him started.... [Aloud] Are you going to start shooting soon? + +LOMOV. I'm thinking of having a go at the blackcock, honoured Natalya +Stepanovna, after the harvest. Oh, have you heard? Just think, what a +misfortune I've had! My dog Guess, whom you know, has gone lame. + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What a pity! Why? + +LOMOV. I don't know.... Must have got twisted, or bitten by some other +dog.... [Sighs] My very best dog, to say nothing of the expense. I gave +Mironov 125 roubles for him. + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It was too much, Ivan Vassilevitch. + +LOMOV. I think it was very cheap. He's a first-rate dog. + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Papa gave 85 roubles for his Squeezer, and Squeezer +is heaps better than Guess! + +LOMOV. Squeezer better than. Guess? What an idea! [Laughs] Squeezer +better than Guess! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Of course he's better! Of course, Squeezer is +young, he may develop a bit, but on points and pedigree he's better than +anything that even Volchanetsky has got. + +LOMOV. Excuse me, Natalya Stepanovna, but you forget that he is +overshot, and an overshot always means the dog is a bad hunter! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Overshot, is he? The first time I hear it! + +LOMOV. I assure you that his lower jaw is shorter than the upper. + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Have you measured? + +LOMOV. Yes. He's all right at following, of course, but if you want him +to get hold of anything... + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. In the first place, our Squeezer is a thoroughbred +animal, the son of Harness and Chisels, while there's no getting at +the pedigree of your dog at all.... He's old and as ugly as a worn-out +cab-horse. + +LOMOV. He is old, but I wouldn't take five Squeezers for him.... Why, +how can you?... Guess is a dog; as for Squeezer, well, it's too funny to +argue.... Anybody you like has a dog as good as Squeezer... you may find +them under every bush almost. Twenty-five roubles would be a handsome +price to pay for him. + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. There's some demon of contradiction in you to-day, +Ivan Vassilevitch. First you pretend that the Meadows are yours; now, +that Guess is better than Squeezer. I don't like people who don't say +what they mean, because you know perfectly well that Squeezer is a +hundred times better than your silly Guess. Why do you want to say it +isn't? + +LOMOV. I see, Natalya Stepanovna, that you consider me either blind or a +fool. You must realize that Squeezer is overshot! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It's not true. + +LOMOV. He is! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It's not true! + +LOMOV. Why shout, madam? + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Why talk rot? It's awful! It's time your Guess was +shot, and you compare him with Squeezer! + +LOMOV. Excuse me; I cannot continue this discussion: my heart is +palpitating. + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I've noticed that those hunters argue most who know +least. + +LOMOV. Madam, please be silent.... My heart is going to pieces.... +[Shouts] Shut up! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I shan't shut up until you acknowledge that Squeezer +is a hundred times better than your Guess! + +LOMOV. A hundred times worse! Be hanged to your Squeezer! His head... +eyes... shoulder... + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. There's no need to hang your silly Guess; he's +half-dead already! + +LOMOV. [Weeps] Shut up! My heart's bursting! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I shan't shut up. + +[Enter CHUBUKOV.] + +CHUBUKOV. What's the matter now? + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Papa, tell us truly, which is the better dog, our +Squeezer or his Guess. + +LOMOV. Stepan Stepanovitch, I implore you to tell me just one thing: is +your Squeezer overshot or not? Yes or no? + +CHUBUKOV. And suppose he is? What does it matter? He's the best dog in +the district for all that, and so on. + +LOMOV. But isn't my Guess better? Really, now? + +CHUBUKOV. Don't excite yourself, my precious one.... Allow me.... Your +Guess certainly has his good points.... He's pure-bred, firm on his +feet, has well-sprung ribs, and all that. But, my dear man, if you want +to know the truth, that dog has two defects: he's old and he's short in +the muzzle. + +LOMOV. Excuse me, my heart.... Let's take the facts.... You will +remember that on the Marusinsky hunt my Guess ran neck-and-neck with the +Count's dog, while your Squeezer was left a whole verst behind. + +CHUBUKOV. He got left behind because the Count's whipper-in hit him with +his whip. + +LOMOV. And with good reason. The dogs are running after a fox, when +Squeezer goes and starts worrying a sheep! + +CHUBUKOV. It's not true!... My dear fellow, I'm very liable to lose my +temper, and so, just because of that, let's stop arguing. You started +because everybody is always jealous of everybody else's dogs. Yes, we're +all like that! You too, sir, aren't blameless! You no sooner notice that +some dog is better than your Guess than you begin with this, that... and +the other... and all that.... I remember everything! + +LOMOV. I remember too! + +CHUBUKOV. [Teasing him] I remember, too.... What do you remember? + +LOMOV. My heart... my foot's gone to sleep.... I can't... + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. [Teasing] My heart.... What sort of a hunter are +you? You ought to go and lie on the kitchen oven and catch blackbeetles, +not go after foxes! My heart! + +CHUBUKOV. Yes really, what sort of a hunter are you, anyway? You ought +to sit at home with your palpitations, and not go tracking animals. You +could go hunting, but you only go to argue with people and interfere +with their dogs and so on. Let's change the subject in case I lose my +temper. You're not a hunter at all, anyway! + +LOMOV. And are you a hunter? You only go hunting to get in with the +Count and to intrigue.... Oh, my heart!... You're an intriguer! + +CHUBUKOV. What? I an intriguer? [Shouts] Shut up! + +LOMOV. Intriguer! + +CHUBUKOV. Boy! Pup! + +LOMOV. Old rat! Jesuit! + +CHUBUKOV. Shut up or I'll shoot you like a partridge! You fool! + +LOMOV. Everybody knows that--oh my heart!--your late wife used to beat +you.... My feet... temples... sparks.... I fall, I fall! + +CHUBUKOV. And you're under the slipper of your housekeeper! + +LOMOV. There, there, there... my heart's burst! My shoulder's come +off.... Where is my shoulder? I die. [Falls into an armchair] A doctor! +[Faints.] + +CHUBUKOV. Boy! Milksop! Fool! I'm sick! [Drinks water] Sick! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What sort of a hunter are you? You can't even sit on +a horse! [To her father] Papa, what's the matter with him? Papa! Look, +papa! [Screams] Ivan Vassilevitch! He's dead! + +CHUBUKOV. I'm sick!... I can't breathe!... Air! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. He's dead. [Pulls LOMOV'S sleeve] Ivan Vassilevitch! +Ivan Vassilevitch! What have you done to me? He's dead. [Falls into an +armchair] A doctor, a doctor! [Hysterics.] + +CHUBUKOV. Oh!... What is it? What's the matter? + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. [Wails] He's dead... dead! + +CHUBUKOV. Who's dead? [Looks at LOMOV] So he is! My word! Water! A +doctor! [Lifts a tumbler to LOMOV'S mouth] Drink this!... No, he doesn't +drink.... It means he's dead, and all that.... I'm the most unhappy of +men! Why don't I put a bullet into my brain? Why haven't I cut my throat +yet? What am I waiting for? Give me a knife! Give me a pistol! [LOMOV +moves] He seems to be coming round.... Drink some water! That's +right.... + +LOMOV. I see stars... mist.... Where am I? + +CHUBUKOV. Hurry up and get married and--well, to the devil with you! +She's willing! [He puts LOMOV'S hand into his daughter's] She's willing +and all that. I give you my blessing and so on. Only leave me in peace! + +LOMOV. [Getting up] Eh? What? To whom? + +CHUBUKOV. She's willing! Well? Kiss and be damned to you! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. [Wails] He's alive... Yes, yes, I'm willing.... + +CHUBUKOV. Kiss each other! + +LOMOV. Eh? Kiss whom? [They kiss] Very nice, too. Excuse me, what's +it all about? Oh, now I understand... my heart... stars... I'm happy. +Natalya Stepanovna.... [Kisses her hand] My foot's gone to sleep.... + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I... I'm happy too.... + +CHUBUKOV. What a weight off my shoulders.... Ouf! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. But... still you will admit now that Guess is worse +than Squeezer. + +LOMOV. Better! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Worse! + +CHUBUKOV. Well, that's a way to start your family bliss! Have some +champagne! + +LOMOV. He's better! + +NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Worse! worse! worse! + +CHUBUKOV. [Trying to shout her down] Champagne! Champagne! + +Curtain. + + + + + +THE WEDDING + + +CHARACTERS + + EVDOKIM ZAHAROVITCH ZHIGALOV, a retired Civil Servant. + NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA, his wife + DASHENKA, their daughter + EPAMINOND MAXIMOVITCH APLOMBOV, Dashenka's bridegroom + FYODOR YAKOVLEVITCH REVUNOV-KARAULOV, a retired captain + ANDREY ANDREYEVITCH NUNIN, an insurance agent + ANNA MARTINOVNA ZMEYUKINA, a midwife, aged 30, in a brilliantly red dress + IVAN MIHAILOVITCH YATS, a telegraphist + HARLAMPI SPIRIDONOVITCH DIMBA, a Greek confectioner + DMITRI STEPANOVITCH MOZGOVOY, a sailor of the Imperial Navy (Volunteer + Fleet) + GROOMSMEN, GENTLEMEN, WAITERS, ETC. + +The scene is laid in one of the rooms of Andronov's Restaurant + + +[A brilliantly illuminated room. A large table, laid for supper. Waiters +in dress-jackets are fussing round the table. An orchestra behind the +scene is playing the music of the last figure of a quadrille.] + +[ANNA MARTINOVNA ZMEYUKINA, YATS, and a GROOMSMAN cross the stage.] + +ZMEYUKINA. No, no, no! + +YATS. [Following her] Have pity on us! Have pity! + +ZMEYUKINA. No, no, no! + +GROOMSMAN. [Chasing them] You can't go on like this! Where are you off +to? What about the _grand ronde? Grand ronde, s'il vous plait_! [They +all go off.] + +[Enter NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA and APLOMBOV.] + +NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. You had much better be dancing than upsetting me +with your speeches. + +APLOMBOV. I'm not a Spinosa or anybody of that sort, to go making +figures-of-eight with my legs. I am a serious man, and I have a +character, and I see no amusement in empty pleasures. But it isn't just +a matter of dances. You must excuse me, maman, but there is a good deal +in your behaviour which I am unable to understand. For instance, in +addition to objects of domestic importance, you promised also to give +me, with your daughter, two lottery tickets. Where are they? + +NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. My head's aching a little... I expect it's on +account of the weather.... If only it thawed! + +APLOMBOV. You won't get out of it like that. I only found out to-day +that those tickets are in pawn. You must excuse me, _maman_, but +it's only swindlers who behave like that. I'm not doing this out of +egoisticism [Note: So in the original]--I don't want your tickets--but +on principle; and I don't allow myself to be done by anybody. I have +made your daughter happy, and if you don't give me the tickets to-day +I'll make short work of her. I'm an honourable man! + +NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. [Looks round the table and counts up the covers] +One, two, three, four, five... + +A WAITER. The cook asks if you would like the ices served with rum, +madeira, or by themselves? + +APLOMBOV. With rum. And tell the manager that there's not enough wine. +Tell him to prepare some more Haut Sauterne. [To NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA] +You also promised and agreed that a general was to be here to supper. +And where is he? + +NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. That isn't my fault, my dear. + +APLOMBOV. Whose fault, then? + +NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. It's Andrey Andreyevitch's fault.... Yesterday he +came to see us and promised to bring a perfectly real general. [Sighs] I +suppose he couldn't find one anywhere, or he'd have brought him.... +You think we don't mind? We'd begrudge our child nothing. A general, of +course... + +APLOMBOV. But there's more.... Everybody, including yourself, _maman_, +is aware of the fact that Yats, that telegraphist, was after Dashenka +before I proposed to her. Why did you invite him? Surely you knew it +would be unpleasant for me? + +NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. Oh, how can you? Epaminond Maximovitch was married +himself only the other day, and you've already tired me and Dashenka out +with your talk. What will you be like in a year's time? You are horrid, +really horrid. + +APLOMBOV. Then you don't like to hear the truth? Aha! Oh, oh! Then +behave honourably. I only want you to do one thing, be honourable! + +[Couples dancing the _grand ronde_ come in at one door and out at the +other end. The first couple are DASHENKA with one of the GROOMSMEN. The +last are YATS and ZMEYUKINA. These two remain behind. ZHIGALOV and DIMBA +enter and go up to the table.] + +GROOMSMAN. [Shouting] Promenade! Messieurs, promenade! [Behind] +Promenade! + +[The dancers have all left the scene.] + +YATS. [To ZMEYUKINA] Have pity! Have pity, adorable Anna Martinovna. + +ZMEYUKINA. Oh, what a man!... I've already told you that I've no voice +to-day. + +YATS. I implore you to sing! Just one note! Have pity! Just one note! + +ZMEYUKINA. I'm tired of you.... [Sits and fans herself.] + +YATS. No, you're simply heartless! To be so cruel--if I may express +myself--and to have such a beautiful, beautiful voice! With such +a voice, if you will forgive my using the word, you shouldn't be a +midwife, but sing at concerts, at public gatherings! For example, how +divinely you do that _fioritura_... that... [Sings] "I loved you; love +was vain then...." Exquisite! + +ZMEYUKINA. [Sings] "I loved you, and may love again." Is that it? + +YATS. That's it! Beautiful! + +ZMEYUKINA. No, I've no voice to-day.... There, wave this fan for +me... it's hot! [To APLOMBOV] Epaminond Maximovitch, why are you so +melancholy? A bridegroom shouldn't be! Aren't you ashamed of yourself, +you wretch? Well, what are you so thoughtful about? + +APLOMBOV. Marriage is a serious step! Everything must be considered from +all sides, thoroughly. + +ZMEYUKINA. What beastly sceptics you all are! I feel quite suffocated +with you all around.... Give me atmosphere! Do you hear? Give me +atmosphere! [Sings a few notes.] + +YATS. Beautiful! Beautiful! + +ZMEYUKINA. Fan me, fan me, or I feel I shall have a heart attack in a +minute. Tell me, please, why do I feel so suffocated? + +YATS. It's because you're sweating.... + +ZMEYUKINA. Foo, how vulgar you are! Don't dare to use such words! + +YATS. Beg pardon! Of course, you're used, if I may say so, to +aristocratic society and.... + +ZMEYUKINA. Oh, leave me alone! Give me poetry, delight! Fan me, fan me! + +ZHIGALOV. [To DIMBA] Let's have another, what? [Pours out] One can +always drink. So long only, Harlampi Spiridonovitch, as one doesn't +forget one's business. Drink and be merry.... And if you can drink at +somebody else's expense, then why not drink? You can drink.... Your +health! [They drink] And do you have tigers in Greece? + +DIMBA. Yes. + +ZHIGALOV. And lions? + +DIMBA. And lions too. In Russia zere's nussing, and in Greece zere's +everysing--my fazer and uncle and brozeres--and here zere's nussing. + +ZHIGALOV. H'm.... And are there whales in Greece? + +DIMBA. Yes, everysing. + +NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. [To her husband] What are they all eating and +drinking like that for? It's time for everybody to sit down to supper. +Don't keep on shoving your fork into the lobsters.... They're for the +general. He may come yet.... + +ZHIGALOV. And are there lobsters in Greece? + +DIMBA. Yes... zere is everysing. + +ZHIGALOV. Hm.... And Civil Servants. + +ZMEYUKINA. I can imagine what the atmosphere is like in Greece! + +ZHIGALOV. There must be a lot of swindling. The Greeks are just like the +Armenians or gipsies. They sell you a sponge or a goldfish and all the +time they are looking out for a chance of getting something extra out of +you. Let's have another, what? + +NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. What do you want to go on having another for? It's +time everybody sat down to supper. It's past eleven. + +ZHIGALOV. If it's time, then it's time. Ladies and gentlemen, please! +[Shouts] Supper! Young people! + +NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. Dear visitors, please be seated! + +ZMEYUKINA. [Sitting down at the table] Give me poetry. + + "And he, the rebel, seeks the storm, + As if the storm can give him peace." + +Give me the storm! + +YATS. [Aside] Wonderful woman! I'm in love! Up to my ears! + +[Enter DASHENKA, MOZGOVOY, GROOMSMEN, various ladies and gentlemen, +etc. They all noisily seat themselves at the table. There is a minute's +pause, while the band plays a march.] + +MOZGOVOY. [Rising] Ladies and gentlemen! I must tell you this.... We are +going to have a great many toasts and speeches. Don't let's wait, but +begin at once. Ladies and gentlemen, the newly married! + +[The band plays a flourish. Cheers. Glasses are touched. APLOMBOV and +DASHENKA kiss each other.] + +YATS. Beautiful! Beautiful! I must say, ladies and gentlemen, giving +honour where it is due, that this room and the accommodation generally +are splendid! Excellent, wonderful! Only you know, there's one thing +we haven't got--electric light, if I may say so! Into every country +electric light has already been introduced, only Russia lags behind. + +ZHIGALOV. [Meditatively] Electricity... h'm.... In my opinion electric +lighting is just a swindle.... They put a live coal in and think you +don't see them! No, if you want a light, then you don't take a coal, but +something real, something special, that you can get hold of! You must +have a fire, you understand, which is natural, not just an invention! + +YATS. If you'd ever seen an electric battery, and how it's made up, +you'd think differently. + +ZHIGALOV. Don't want to see one. It's a swindle, a fraud on the +public.... They want to squeeze our last breath out of us.... We know +then, these... And, young man, instead of defending a swindle, you would +be much better occupied if you had another yourself and poured out some +for other people--yes! + +APLOMBOV. I entirely agree with you, papa. Why start a learned +discussion? I myself have no objection to talking about every possible +scientific discovery, but this isn't the time for all that! [To +DASHENKA] What do you think, _ma chère_? + +DASHENKA. They want to show how educated they are, and so they always +talk about things we can't understand. + +NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. Thank God, we've lived our time without being +educated, and here we are marrying off our third daughter to an honest +man. And if you think we're uneducated, then what do you want to come +here for? Go to your educated friends! + +YATS. I, Nastasya Timofeyevna, have always held your family in respect, +and if I did start talking about electric lighting it doesn't mean that +I'm proud. I'll drink, to show you. I have always sincerely wished Daria +Evdokimovna a good husband. In these days, Nastasya Timofeyevna, it is +difficult to find a good husband. Nowadays everybody is on the look-out +for a marriage where there is profit, money.... + +APLOMBOV. That's a hint! + +YATS. [His courage failing] I wasn't hinting at anything.... Present +company is always excepted.... I was only in general.... Please! +Everybody knows that you're marrying for love... the dowry is quite +trifling. + +NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. No, it isn't trifling! You be careful what you +say. Besides a thousand roubles of good money, we're giving three +dresses, the bed, and all the furniture. You won't find another dowry +like that in a hurry! + +YATS. I didn't mean... The furniture's splendid, of course, and... and +the dresses, but I never hinted at what they are getting offended at. + +NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. Don't you go making hints. We respect you on +account of your parents, and we've invited you to the wedding, and here +you go talking. If you knew that Epaminond Maximovitch was marrying for +profit, why didn't you say so before? [Tearfully] I brought her up, +I fed her, I nursed her.... I cared for her more than if she was an +emerald jewel, my little girl.... + +APLOMBOV. And you go and believe him? Thank you so much! I'm very +grateful to you! [To YATS] And as for you, Mr. Yats, although you are +acquainted with me, I shan't allow you to behave like this in another's +house. Please get out of this! + +YATS. What do you mean? + +APLOMBOV. I want you to be as straightforward as I am! In short, please +get out! [Band plays a flourish] + +THE GENTLEMEN. Leave him alone! Sit down! Is it worth it! Let him be! +Stop it now! + +YATS. I never... I... I don't understand.... Please, I'll go.... Only +you first give me the five roubles which you borrowed from me last year +on the strength of a _piqué_ waistcoat, if I may say so. Then I'll just +have another drink and... go, only give me the money first. + +VARIOUS GENTLEMEN. Sit down! That's enough! Is it worth it, just for +such trifles? + +A GROOMSMAN. [Shouts] The health of the bride's parents, Evdokim +Zaharitch and Nastasya Timofeyevna! [Band plays a flourish. Cheers.] + +ZHIGALOV. [Bows in all directions, in great emotion] I thank you! Dear +guests! I am very grateful to you for not having forgotten and for +having conferred this honour upon us without being standoffish And you +must not think that I'm a rascal, or that I'm trying to swindle anybody. +I'm speaking from my heart--from the purity of my soul! I wouldn't deny +anything to good people! We thank you very humbly! [Kisses.] + +DASHENKA. [To her mother] Mama, why are you crying? I'm so happy! + +APLOMBOV. _Maman_ is disturbed at your coming separation. But I should +advise her rather to remember the last talk we had. + +YATS. Don't cry, Nastasya Timofeyevna! Just think what are human tears, +anyway? Just petty psychiatry, and nothing more! + +ZMEYUKINA. And are there any red-haired men in Greece? + +DIMBA. Yes, everysing is zere. + +ZHIGALOV. But you don't have our kinds of mushroom. + +DIMBA. Yes, we've got zem and everysing. + +MOZGOVOY. Harlampi Spiridonovitch, it's your turn to speak! Ladies and +gentlemen, a speech! + +ALL. [To DIMBA] Speech! speech! Your turn! + +DIMBA. Why? I don't understand.... What is it! + +ZMEYUKINA. No, no! You can't refuse! It's you turn! Get up! + +DIMBA. [Gets up, confused] I can't say what... Zere's Russia and zere's +Greece. Zere's people in Russia and people in Greece.... And zere's +people swimming the sea in karavs, which mean sips, and people on +the land in railway trains. I understand. We are Greeks and you are +Russians, and I want nussing.... I can tell you... zere's Russia and +zere's Greece... + +[Enter NUNIN.] + +NUNIN. Wait, ladies and gentlemen, don't eat now! Wait! Just one minute, +Nastasya Timofeyevna! Just come here, if you don't mind! [Takes NASTASYA +TIMOFEYEVNA aside, puffing] Listen... The General's coming... I +found one at last.... I'm simply worn out.... A real General, a solid +one--old, you know, aged perhaps eighty, or even ninety. + +NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. When is he coming? + +NUNIN. This minute. You'll be grateful to me all your life. [Note: A +few lines have been omitted: they refer to the "General's" rank and +its civil equivalent in words for which the English language has +no corresponding terms. The "General" is an ex-naval officer, a +second-class captain.] + +NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. You're not deceiving me, Andrey darling? + +NUNIN. Well, now, am I a swindler? You needn't worry! + +NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. [Sighs] One doesn't like to spend money for +nothing, Andrey darling! + +NUNIN. Don't you worry! He's not a general, he's a dream! [Raises his +voice] I said to him: "You've quite forgotten us, your Excellency! +It isn't kind of your Excellency to forget your old friends! Nastasya +Timofeyevna," I said to him, "she's very annoyed with you about it!" +[Goes and sits at the table] And he says to me: "But, my friend, how can +I go when I don't know the bridegroom?" "Oh, nonsense, your excellency, +why stand on ceremony? The bridegroom," I said to him, "he's a fine +fellow, very free and easy. He's a valuer," I said, "at the Law courts, +and don't you think, your excellency, that he's some rascal, some knave +of hearts. Nowadays," I said to him, "even decent women are employed at +the Law courts." He slapped me on the shoulder, we smoked a Havana cigar +each, and now he's coming.... Wait a little, ladies and gentlemen, don't +eat.... + +APLOMBOV. When's he coming? + +NUNIN. This minute. When I left him he was already putting on his +goloshes. Wait a little, ladies and gentlemen, don't eat yet. + +APLOMBOV. The band should be told to play a march. + +NUNIN. [Shouts] Musicians! A march! [The band plays a march for a +minute.] + +A WAITER. Mr. Revunov-Karaulov! + +[ZHIGALOV, NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA, and NUNIN run to meet him. Enter +REVUNOV-KARAULOV.] + +NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. [Bowing] Please come in, your excellency! So glad +you've come! + +REVUNOV. Awfully! + +ZHIGALOV. We, your excellency, aren't celebrities, we aren't important, +but quite ordinary, but don't think on that account that there's any +fraud. We put good people into the best place, we begrudge nothing. +Please! + +REVUNOV. Awfully glad! + +NUNIN. Let me introduce to you, your excellency, the bridegroom, +Epaminond Maximovitch Aplombov, with his newly born... I mean his newly +married wife! Ivan Mihailovitch Yats, employed on the telegraph! A +foreigner of Greek nationality, a confectioner by trade, Harlampi +Spiridonovitch Dimba! Osip Lukitch Babelmandebsky! And so on, and so +on.... The rest are just trash. Sit down, your excellency! + +REVUNOV. Awfully! Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, I just want to say +two words to Andrey. [Takes NUNIN aside] I say, old man, I'm a little +put out.... Why do you call me your excellency? I'm not a general! I +don't rank as the equivalent of a colonel, even. + +NUNIN. [Whispers] I know, only, Fyodor Yakovlevitch, be a good man +and let us call you your excellency! The family here, you see, is +patriarchal; it respects the aged, it likes rank. + +REVUNOV. Oh, if it's like that, very well.... [Goes to the table] +Awfully! + +NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. Sit down, your excellency! Be so good as to have +some of this, your excellency! Only forgive us for not being used to +etiquette; we're plain people! + +REVUNOV. [Not hearing] What? Hm... yes. [Pause] Yes.... In the old days +everybody used to live simply and was happy. In spite of my rank, I am +a man who lives plainly. To-day Andrey comes to me and asks me to come +here to the wedding. "How shall I go," I said, "when I don't know them? +It's not good manners!" But he says: "They are good, simple, patriarchal +people, glad to see anybody." Well, if that's the case... why not? +Very glad to come. It's very dull for me at home by myself, and if my +presence at a wedding can make anybody happy, then I'm delighted to be +here.... + +ZHIGALOV. Then that's sincere, is it, your excellency? I respect that! +I'm a plain man myself, without any deception, and I respect others who +are like that. Eat, your excellency! + +APLOMBOV. Is it long since you retired, your excellency? + +REVUNOV. Eh? Yes, yes.... Quite true.... Yes. But, excuse me, what +is this? The fish is sour... and the bread is sour. I can't eat this! +[APLOMBOV and DASHENKA kiss each other] He, he, he... Your health! +[Pause] Yes.... In the old days everything was simple and everybody was +glad.... I love simplicity.... I'm an old man. I retired in 1865. I'm +72. Yes, of course, in my younger days it was different, but--[Sees +MOZGOVOY] You there... a sailor, are you? + +MOZGOVOY. Yes, just so. + +REVUNOV. Aha, so... yes. The navy means hard work. There's a lot to +think about and get a headache over. Every insignificant word has, so +to speak, its special meaning! For instance, "Hoist her top-sheets +and mainsail!" What's it mean? A sailor can tell! He, he!--With almost +mathematical precision! + +NUNIN. The health of his excellency Fyodor Yakovlevitch +Revunov-Karaulov! [Band plays a flourish. Cheers.] + +YATS. You, your excellency, have just expressed yourself on the subject +of the hard work involved in a naval career. But is telegraphy any +easier? Nowadays, your excellency, nobody is appointed to the telegraphs +if he cannot read and write French and German. But the transmission of +telegrams is the most difficult thing of all. Awfully difficult! Just +listen. + +[Taps with his fork on the table, like a telegraphic transmitter.] + +REVUNOV. What does that mean? + +YATS. It means, "I honour you, your excellency, for your virtues." You +think it's easy? Listen now. [Taps.] + +REVUNOV. Louder; I can't hear.... + +YATS. That means, "Madam, how happy I am to hold you in my embraces!" + +REVUNOV. What madam are you talking about? Yes.... [To MOZGOVOY] Yes, if +there's a head-wind you must... let's see... you must hoist your foretop +halyards and topsail halyards! The order is: "On the cross-trees to +the foretop halyards and topsail halyards" and at the same time, as +the sails get loose, you take hold underneath of the foresail and +fore-topsail halyards, stays and braces. + +A GROOMSMAN. [Rising] Ladies and gentlemen... + +REVUNOV. [Cutting him short] Yes... there are a great many orders to +give. "Furl the fore-topsail and the foretop-gallant sail!!" Well, +what does that mean? It's very simple! It means that if the top and +top-gallant sails are lifting the halyards, they must level the foretop +and foretop-gallant halyards on the hoist and at the same time the +top-gallants braces, as needed, are loosened according to the direction +of the wind... + +NUNIN. [To REVUNOV] Fyodor Yakovlevitch, Mme. Zhigalov asks you to +talk about something else. It's very dull for the guests, who can't +understand.... + +REVUNOV. What? Who's dull? [To MOZGOVOY] Young man! Now suppose the ship +is lying by the wind, on the starboard tack, under full sail, and you've +got to bring her before the wind. What's the order? Well, first you +whistle up above! He, he! + +NUNIN. Fyodor Yakovlevitch, that's enough. Eat something. + +REVUNOV. As soon as the men are on deck you give the order, "To your +places!" What a life! You give orders, and at the same time you've +got to keep your eyes on the sailors, who run about like flashes of +lightning and get the sails and braces right. And at last you can't +restrain yourself, and you shout, "Good children!" [He chokes and +coughs.] + +A GROOMSMAN. [Making haste to use the ensuing pause to advantage] On +this occasion, so to speak, on the day on which we have met together to +honour our dear... + +REVUNOV. [Interrupting] Yes, you've got to remember all that! For +instance, "Hoist the topsail halyards. Lower the topsail gallants!" + +THE GROOMSMAN. [Annoyed] Why does he keep on interrupting? We shan't get +through a single speech like that! + +NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. We are dull people, your excellency, and don't +understand a word of all that, but if you were to tell us something +appropriate... + +REVUNOV. [Not hearing] I've already had supper, thank you. Did you say +there was goose? Thanks... yes. I've remembered the old days.... It's +pleasant, young man! You sail on the sea, you have no worries, and [In +an excited tone of voice] do you remember the joy of tacking? Is there a +sailor who doesn't glow at the memory of that manoeuvre? As soon as the +word is given and the whistle blown and the crew begins to go up--it's +as if an electric spark has run through them all. From the captain to +the cabin-boy, everybody's excited. + +ZMEYUKINA. How dull! How dull! [General murmur.] + +REVUNOV. [Who has not heard it properly] Thank you, I've had supper. +[With enthusiasm] Everybody's ready, and looks to the senior officer. +He gives the command: "Stand by, gallants and topsail braces on the +starboard side, main and counter-braces to port!" Everything's done in +a twinkling. Top-sheets and jib-sheets are pulled... taken to starboard. +[Stands up] The ship takes the wind and at last the sails fill out. The +senior officer orders, "To the braces," and himself keeps his eye on the +mainsail, and when at last this sail is filling out and the ship begins +to turn, he yells at the top of his voice, "Let go the braces! Loose the +main halyards!" Everything flies about, there's a general confusion for +a moment--and everything is done without an error. The ship has been +tacked! + +NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. [Exploding] General, your manners.... You ought to +be ashamed of yourself, at your age! + +REVUNOV. Did you say sausage? No, I haven't had any... thank you. + +NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. [Loudly] I say you ought to be ashamed of yourself +at your age! General, your manners are awful! + +NUNIN. [Confused] Ladies and gentlemen, is it worth it? Really... + +REVUNOV. In the first place, I'm not a general, but a second-class naval +captain, which, according to the table of precedence, corresponds to a +lieutenant-colonel. + +NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. If you're not a general, then what did you go and +take our money for? We never paid you money to behave like that! + +REVUNOV. [Upset] What money? + +NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. You know what money. You know that you got 25 +roubles from Andrey Andreyevitch.... [To NUNIN] And you look out, +Andrey! I never asked you to hire a man like that! + +NUNIN. There now... let it drop. Is it worth it? + +REVUNOV. Paid... hired.... What is it? + +APLOMBOV. Just let me ask you this. Did you receive 25 roubles from +Andrey Andreyevitch? + +REVUNOV. What 25 roubles? [Suddenly realizing] That's what it is! Now I +understand it all.... How mean! How mean! + +APLOMBOV. Did you take the money? + +REVUNOV. I haven't taken any money! Get away from me! [Leaves the table] +How mean! How low! To insult an old man, a sailor, an officer who has +served long and faithfully! If you were decent people I could call +somebody out, but what can I do now? [Absently] Where's the door? Which +way do I go? Waiter, show me the way out! Waiter! [Going] How mean! How +low! [Exit.] + +NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. Andrey, where are those 25 roubles? + +NUNIN. Is it worth while bothering about such trifles? What does it +matter! Everybody's happy here, and here you go.... [Shouts] The health +of the bride and bridegroom! A march! A march! [The band plays a march] +The health of the bride and bridegroom! + +ZMEYUKINA. I'm suffocating! Give me atmosphere! I'm suffocating with you +all round me! + +YATS. [In a transport of delight] My beauty! My beauty! [Uproar.] + +A GROOMSMAN. [Trying to shout everybody else down] Ladies and gentlemen! +On this occasion, if I may say so... + +Curtain. + + + + + +THE BEAR + + +CHARACTERS + + ELENA IVANOVNA POPOVA, a landowning little widow, with dimples on her + cheeks + GRIGORY STEPANOVITCH SMIRNOV, a middle-aged landowner + LUKA, Popova's aged footman + + +[A drawing-room in POPOVA'S house.] + +[POPOVA is in deep mourning and has her eyes fixed on a photograph. LUKA +is haranguing her.] + +LUKA. It isn't right, madam.... You're just destroying yourself. The +maid and the cook have gone off fruit picking, every living being is +rejoicing, even the cat understands how to enjoy herself and walks about +in the yard, catching midges; only you sit in this room all day, as if +this was a convent, and don't take any pleasure. Yes, really! I reckon +it's a whole year that you haven't left the house! + +POPOVA. I shall never go out.... Why should I? My life is already at an +end. He is in his grave, and I have buried myself between four walls.... +We are both dead. + +LUKA. Well, there you are! Nicolai Mihailovitch is dead, well, it's the +will of God, and may his soul rest in peace.... You've mourned him--and +quite right. But you can't go on weeping and wearing mourning for ever. +My old woman died too, when her time came. Well? I grieved over her, I +wept for a month, and that's enough for her, but if I've got to weep +for a whole age, well, the old woman isn't worth it. [Sighs] You've +forgotten all your neighbours. You don't go anywhere, and you see +nobody. We live, so to speak, like spiders, and never see the light. +The mice have eaten my livery. It isn't as if there were no good people +around, for the district's full of them. There's a regiment quartered at +Riblov, and the officers are such beauties--you can never gaze your fill +at them. And, every Friday, there's a ball at the camp, and every day +the soldier's band plays.... Eh, my lady! You're young and beautiful, +with roses in your cheek--if you only took a little pleasure. Beauty +won't last long, you know. In ten years' time you'll want to be a +pea-hen yourself among the officers, but they won't look at you, it will +be too late. + +POPOVA. [With determination] I must ask you never to talk to me about +it! You know that when Nicolai Mihailovitch died, life lost all its +meaning for me. I vowed never to the end of my days to cease to wear +mourning, or to see the light.... You hear? Let his ghost see how well I +love him.... Yes, I know it's no secret to you that he was often unfair +to me, cruel, and... and even unfaithful, but I shall be true till +death, and show him how I can love. There, beyond the grave, he will see +me as I was before his death.... + +LUKA. Instead of talking like that you ought to go and have a walk in +the garden, or else order Toby or Giant to be harnessed, and then drive +out to see some of the neighbours. + +POPOVA. Oh! [Weeps.] + +LUKA. Madam! Dear madam! What is it? Bless you! + +POPOVA. He was so fond of Toby! He always used to ride on him to the +Korchagins and Vlasovs. How well he could ride! What grace there was +in his figure when he pulled at the reins with all his strength! Do you +remember? Toby, Toby! Tell them to give him an extra feed of oats. + +LUKA. Yes, madam. [A bell rings noisily.] + +POPOVA. [Shaking] Who's that? Tell them that I receive nobody. + +LUKA. Yes, madam. [Exit.] + +POPOVA. [Looks at the photograph] You will see, Nicolas, how I can love +and forgive.... My love will die out with me, only when this poor heart +will cease to beat. [Laughs through her tears] And aren't you ashamed? +I am a good and virtuous little wife. I've locked myself in, and will +be true to you till the grave, and you... aren't you ashamed, you bad +child? You deceived me, had rows with me, left me alone for weeks on +end.... + +[LUKA enters in consternation.] + +LUKA. Madam, somebody is asking for you. He wants to see you.... + +POPOVA. But didn't you tell him that since the death of my husband I've +stopped receiving? + +LUKA. I did, but he wouldn't even listen; says that it's a very pressing +affair. + +POPOVA. I do not re-ceive! + +LUKA. I told him so, but the... the devil... curses and pushes himself +right in.... He's in the dining-room now. + +POPOVA. [Annoyed] Very well, ask him in.... What manners! [Exit LUKA] +How these people annoy me! What does he want of me? Why should he +disturb my peace? [Sighs] No, I see that I shall have to go into a +convent after all. [Thoughtfully] Yes, into a convent.... [Enter LUKA +with SMIRNOV.] + +SMIRNOV. [To LUKA] You fool, you're too fond of talking.... Ass! [Sees +POPOVA and speaks with respect] Madam, I have the honour to present +myself, I am Grigory Stepanovitch Smirnov, landowner and retired +lieutenant of artillery! I am compelled to disturb you on a very +pressing affair. + +POPOVA. [Not giving him her hand] What do you want? + +SMIRNOV. Your late husband, with whom I had the honour of being +acquainted, died in my debt for one thousand two hundred roubles, on +two bills of exchange. As I've got to pay the interest on a mortgage +to-morrow, I've come to ask you, madam, to pay me the money to-day. + +POPOVA. One thousand two hundred.... And what was my husband in debt to +you for? + +SMIRNOV. He used to buy oats from me. + +POPOVA. [Sighing, to LUKA] So don't you forget, Luka, to give Toby an +extra feed of oats. [Exit LUKA] If Nicolai Mihailovitch died in debt to +you, then I shall certainly pay you, but you must excuse me to-day, as I +haven't any spare cash. The day after to-morrow my steward will be back +from town, and I'll give him instructions to settle your account, but +at the moment I cannot do as you wish.... Moreover, it's exactly seven +months to-day since the death of my husband, and I'm in a state of mind +which absolutely prevents me from giving money matters my attention. + +SMIRNOV. And I'm in a state of mind which, if I don't pay the interest +due to-morrow, will force me to make a graceful exit from this life feet +first. They'll take my estate! + +POPOVA. You'll have your money the day after to-morrow. + +SMIRNOV. I don't want the money the day after tomorrow, I want it +to-day. + +POPOVA. You must excuse me, I can't pay you. + +SMIRNOV. And I can't wait till after to-morrow. + +POPOVA. Well, what can I do, if I haven't the money now! + +SMIRNOV. You mean to say, you can't pay me? + +POPOVA. I can't. + +SMIRNOV. Hm! Is that the last word you've got to say? + +POPOVA. Yes, the last word. + +SMIRNOV. The last word? Absolutely your last? + +POPOVA. Absolutely. + +SMIRNOV. Thank you so much. I'll make a note of it. [Shrugs his +shoulders] And then people want me to keep calm! I meet a man on +the road, and he asks me "Why are you always so angry, Grigory +Stepanovitch?" But how on earth am I not to get angry? I want the money +desperately. I rode out yesterday, early in the morning, and called on +all my debtors, and not a single one of them paid up! I was just about +dead-beat after it all, slept, goodness knows where, in some inn, kept +by a Jew, with a vodka-barrel by my head. At last I get here, seventy +versts from home, and hope to get something, and I am received by you +with a "state of mind"! How shouldn't I get angry. + +POPOVA. I thought I distinctly said my steward will pay you when he +returns from town. + +SMIRNOV. I didn't come to your steward, but to you! What the devil, +excuse my saying so, have I to do with your steward! + +POPOVA. Excuse me, sir, I am not accustomed to listen to such +expressions or to such a tone of voice. I want to hear no more. [Makes a +rapid exit.] + +SMIRNOV. Well, there! "A state of mind."... "Husband died seven months +ago!" Must I pay the interest, or mustn't I? I ask you: Must I pay, +or must I not? Suppose your husband is dead, and you've got a state +of mind, and nonsense of that sort.... And your steward's gone away +somewhere, devil take him, what do you want me to do? Do you think I can +fly away from my creditors in a balloon, or what? Or do you expect me +to go and run my head into a brick wall? I go to Grusdev and he isn't at +home, Yaroshevitch has hidden himself, I had a violent row with Kuritsin +and nearly threw him out of the window, Mazugo has something the matter +with his bowels, and this woman has "a state of mind." Not one of the +swine wants to pay me! Just because I'm too gentle with them, because +I'm a rag, just weak wax in their hands! I'm much too gentle with them! +Well, just you wait! You'll find out what I'm like! I shan't let you +play about with me, confound it! I shall jolly well stay here until she +pays! Brr!... How angry I am to-day, how angry I am! All my inside is +quivering with anger, and I can't even breathe.... Foo, my word, I even +feel sick! [Yells] Waiter! + +[Enter LUKA.] + +LUKA. What is it? + +SMIRNOV. Get me some kvass or water! [Exit LUKA] What a way to reason! A +man is in desperate need of his money, and she won't pay it because, +you see, she is not disposed to attend to money matters!... That's real +silly feminine logic. That's why I never did like, and don't like now, +to have to talk to women. I'd rather sit on a barrel of gunpowder than +talk to a woman. Brr!... I feel quite chilly--and it's all on account of +that little bit of fluff! I can't even see one of these poetic creatures +from a distance without breaking out into a cold sweat out of sheer +anger. I can't look at them. [Enter LUKA with water.] + +LUKA. Madam is ill and will see nobody. + +SMIRNOV. Get out! [Exit LUKA] Ill and will see nobody! No, it's all +right, you don't see me.... I'm going to stay and will sit here till you +give me the money. You can be ill for a week, if you like, and I'll stay +here for a week.... If you're ill for a year--I'll stay for a year. +I'm going to get my own, my dear! You don't get at me with your widow's +weeds and your dimpled cheeks! I know those dimples! [Shouts through the +window] Simeon, take them out! We aren't going away at once! I'm staying +here! Tell them in the stable to give the horses some oats! You +fool, you've let the near horse's leg get tied up in the reins again! +[Teasingly] "Never mind...." I'll give it you. "Never mind." [Goes away +from the window] Oh, it's bad.... The heat's frightful, nobody pays up. +I slept badly, and on top of everything else here's a bit of fluff in +mourning with "a state of mind."... My head's aching.... Shall I have +some vodka, what? Yes, I think I will. [Yells] Waiter! + +[Enter LUKA.] + +LUKA. What is it? + +SMIRNOV. A glass of vodka! [Exit LUKA] Ouf! [Sits and inspects himself] +I must say I look well! Dust all over, boots dirty, unwashed, unkempt, +straw on my waistcoat.... The dear lady may well have taken me for a +brigand. [Yawns] It's rather impolite to come into a drawing-room in +this state, but it can't be helped.... I am not here as a visitor, +but as a creditor, and there's no dress specially prescribed for +creditors.... + +[Enter LUKA with the vodka.] + +LUKA. You allow yourself to go very far, sir.... + +SMIRNOV [Angrily] What? + +LUKA. I... er... nothing... I really... + +SMIRNOV. Whom are you talking to? Shut up! + +LUKA. [Aside] The devil's come to stay.... Bad luck that brought him.... +[Exit.] + +SMIRNOV. Oh, how angry I am! So angry that I think I could grind the +whole world to dust.... I even feel sick.... [Yells] Waiter! + +[Enter POPOVA.] + +POPOVA. [Her eyes downcast] Sir, in my solitude I have grown +unaccustomed to the masculine voice, and I can't stand shouting. I must +ask you not to disturb my peace. + +SMIRNOV. Pay me the money, and I'll go. + +POPOVA. I told you perfectly plainly; I haven't any money to spare; wait +until the day after to-morrow. + +SMIRNOV. And I told you perfectly plainly I don't want the money the day +after to-morrow, but to-day. If you don't pay me to-day, I'll have to +hang myself to-morrow. + +POPOVA. But what can I do if I haven't got the money? You're so strange! + +SMIRNOV. Then you won't pay me now? Eh? + +POPOVA. I can't. + +SMIRNOV. In that case I stay here and shall wait until I get it. [Sits +down] You're going to pay me the day after to-morrow? Very well! I'll +stay here until the day after to-morrow. I'll sit here all the time.... +[Jumps up] I ask you: Have I got to pay the interest to-morrow, or +haven't I? Or do you think I'm doing this for a joke? + +POPOVA. Please don't shout! This isn't a stable! + +SMIRNOV. I wasn't asking you about a stable, but whether I'd got my +interest to pay to-morrow or not? + +POPOVA. You don't know how to behave before women! + +SMIRNOV. No, I do know how to behave before women! + +POPOVA. No, you don't! You're a rude, ill-bred man! Decent people don't +talk to a woman like that! + +SMIRNOV. What a business! How do you want me to talk to you? In French, +or what? [Loses his temper and lisps] _Madame, je vous prie_.... How +happy I am that you don't pay me.... Ah, pardon. I have disturbed you! +Such lovely weather to-day! And how well you look in mourning! [Bows.] + +POPOVA. That's silly and rude. + +SMIRNOV. [Teasing her] Silly and rude! I don't know how to behave before +women! Madam, in my time I've seen more women than you've seen sparrows! +Three times I've fought duels on account of women. I've refused twelve +women, and nine have refused me! Yes! There was a time when I played the +fool, scented myself, used honeyed words, wore jewellery, made beautiful +bows. I used to love, to suffer, to sigh at the moon, to get sour, to +thaw, to freeze.... I used to love passionately, madly, every blessed +way, devil take me; I used to chatter like a magpie about emancipation, +and wasted half my wealth on tender feelings, but now--you must excuse +me! You won't get round me like that now! I've had enough! Black eyes, +passionate eyes, ruby lips, dimpled cheeks, the moon, whispers, timid +breathing--I wouldn't give a brass farthing for the lot, madam! Present +company always excepted, all women, great or little, are insincere, +crooked, backbiters, envious, liars to the marrow of their bones, vain, +trivial, merciless, unreasonable, and, as far as this is concerned [taps +his forehead] excuse my outspokenness, a sparrow can give ten points to +any philosopher in petticoats you like to name! You look at one of +these poetic creatures: all muslin, an ethereal demi-goddess, you have a +million transports of joy, and you look into her soul--and see a common +crocodile! [He grips the back of a chair; the chair creaks and breaks] +But the most disgusting thing of all is that this crocodile for some +reason or other imagines that its chef d'oeuvre, its privilege and +monopoly, is its tender feelings. Why, confound it, hang me on that nail +feet upwards, if you like, but have you met a woman who can love anybody +except a lapdog? When she's in love, can she do anything but snivel and +slobber? While a man is suffering and making sacrifices all her love +expresses itself in her playing about with her scarf, and trying to hook +him more firmly by the nose. You have the misfortune to be a woman, you +know from yourself what is the nature of woman. Tell me truthfully, +have you ever seen a woman who was sincere, faithful, and constant? You +haven't! Only freaks and old women are faithful and constant! You'll +meet a cat with a horn or a white woodcock sooner than a constant woman! + +POPOVA. Then, according to you, who is faithful and constant in love? Is +it the man? + +SMIRNOV. Yes, the man! + +POPOVA. The man! [Laughs bitterly] Men are faithful and constant in +love! What an idea! [With heat] What right have you to talk like that? +Men are faithful and constant! Since we are talking about it, I'll +tell you that of all the men I knew and know, the best was my late +husband.... I loved him passionately with all my being, as only a young +and imaginative woman can love, I gave him my youth, my happiness, my +life, my fortune, I breathed in him, I worshipped him as if I were a +heathen, and... and what then? This best of men shamelessly deceived me +at every step! After his death I found in his desk a whole drawerful +of love-letters, and when he was alive--it's an awful thing to +remember!--he used to leave me alone for weeks at a time, and make love +to other women and betray me before my very eyes; he wasted my money, +and made fun of my feelings.... And, in spite of all that, I loved him +and was true to him. And not only that, but, now that he is dead, I +am still true and constant to his memory. I have shut myself for ever +within these four walls, and will wear these weeds to the very end.... + +SMIRNOV. [Laughs contemptuously] Weeds!... I don't understand what you +take me for. As if I don't know why you wear that black domino and bury +yourself between four walls! I should say I did! It's so mysterious, so +poetic! When some junker [Note: So in the original.] or some tame poet +goes past your windows he'll think: "There lives the mysterious Tamara +who, for the love of her husband, buried herself between four walls." We +know these games! + +POPOVA. [Exploding] What? How dare you say all that to me? + +SMIRNOV. You may have buried yourself alive, but you haven't forgotten +to powder your face! + +POPOVA. How dare you speak to me like that? + +SMIRNOV. Please don't shout, I'm not your steward! You must allow me to +call things by their real names. I'm not a woman, and I'm used to saying +what I think straight out! Don't you shout, either! + +POPOVA. I'm not shouting, it's you! Please leave me alone! + +SMIRNOV. Pay me my money and I'll go. + +POPOVA. I shan't give you any money! + +SMIRNOV. Oh, no, you will. + +POPOVA. I shan't give you a farthing, just to spite you. You leave me +alone! + +SMIRNOV. I have not the pleasure of being either your husband or your +fiancé, so please don't make scenes. [Sits] I don't like it. + +POPOVA. [Choking with rage] So you sit down? + +SMIRNOV. I do. + +POPOVA. I ask you to go away! + +SMIRNOV. Give me my money.... [Aside] Oh, how angry I am! How angry I +am! + +POPOVA. I don't want to talk to impudent scoundrels! Get out of this! +[Pause] Aren't you going? No? + +SMIRNOV. No. + +POPOVA. No? + +SMIRNOV. No! + +POPOVA. Very well then! [Rings, enter LUKA] Luka, show this gentleman +out! + +LUKA. [Approaches SMIRNOV] Would you mind going out, sir, as you're +asked to! You needn't... + +SMIRNOV. [Jumps up] Shut up! Who are you talking to? I'll chop you into +pieces! + +LUKA. [Clutches at his heart] Little fathers!... What people!... [Falls +into a chair] Oh, I'm ill, I'm ill! I can't breathe! + +POPOVA. Where's Dasha? Dasha! [Shouts] Dasha! Pelageya! Dasha! [Rings.] + +LUKA. Oh! They've all gone out to pick fruit.... There's nobody at home! +I'm ill! Water! + +POPOVA. Get out of this, now. + +SMIRNOV. Can't you be more polite? + +POPOVA. [Clenches her fists and stamps her foot] You're a boor! A coarse +bear! A Bourbon! A monster! + +SMIRNOV. What? What did you say? + +POPOVA. I said you are a bear, a monster! + +SMIRNOV. [Approaching her] May I ask what right you have to insult me? + +POPOVA. And suppose I am insulting you? Do you think I'm afraid of you? + +SMIRNOV. And do you think that just because you're a poetic creature you +can insult me with impunity? Eh? We'll fight it out! + +LUKA. Little fathers!... What people!... Water! + +SMIRNOV. Pistols! + +POPOVA. Do you think I'm afraid of you just because you have large fists +and a bull's throat? Eh? You Bourbon! + +SMIRNOV. We'll fight it out! I'm not going to be insulted by anybody, +and I don't care if you are a woman, one of the "softer sex," indeed! + +POPOVA. [Trying to interrupt him] Bear! Bear! Bear! + +SMIRNOV. It's about time we got rid of the prejudice that only men need +pay for their insults. Devil take it, if you want equality of rights you +can have it. We're going to fight it out! + +POPOVA. With pistols? Very well! + +SMIRNOV. This very minute. + +POPOVA. This very minute! My husband had some pistols.... I'll bring +them here. [Is going, but turns back] What pleasure it will give me to +put a bullet into your thick head! Devil take you! [Exit.] + +SMIRNOV. I'll bring her down like a chicken! I'm not a little boy or a +sentimental puppy; I don't care about this "softer sex." + +LUKA. Gracious little fathers!... [Kneels] Have pity on a poor old man, +and go away from here! You've frightened her to death, and now you want +to shoot her! + +SMIRNOV. [Not hearing him] If she fights, well that's equality of +rights, emancipation, and all that! Here the sexes are equal! I'll shoot +her on principle! But what a woman! [Parodying her] "Devil take you! +I'll put a bullet into your thick head." Eh? How she reddened, how her +cheeks shone!... She accepted my challenge! My word, it's the first time +in my life that I've seen.... + +LUKA. Go away, sir, and I'll always pray to God for you! + +SMIRNOV. She is a woman! That's the sort I can understand! A real woman! +Not a sour-faced jellybag, but fire, gunpowder, a rocket! I'm even sorry +to have to kill her! + +LUKA. [Weeps] Dear... dear sir, do go away! + +SMIRNOV. I absolutely like her! Absolutely! Even though her cheeks are +dimpled, I like her! I'm almost ready to let the debt go... and I'm not +angry any longer.... Wonderful woman! + +[Enter POPOVA with pistols.] + +POPOVA. Here are the pistols.... But before we fight you must show me +how to fire. I've never held a pistol in my hands before. + +LUKA. Oh, Lord, have mercy and save her.... I'll go and find the +coachman and the gardener.... Why has this infliction come on us.... +[Exit.] + +SMIRNOV. [Examining the pistols] You see, there are several sorts of +pistols.... There are Mortimer pistols, specially made for duels, they +fire a percussion-cap. These are Smith and Wesson revolvers, triple +action, with extractors.... These are excellent pistols. They can't cost +less than ninety roubles the pair.... You must hold the revolver like +this.... [Aside] Her eyes, her eyes! What an inspiring woman! + +POPOVA. Like this? + +SMIRNOV. Yes, like this.... Then you cock the trigger, and take aim like +this.... Put your head back a little! Hold your arm out properly.... +Like that.... Then you press this thing with your finger--and that's +all. The great thing is to keep cool and aim steadily.... Try not to +jerk your arm. + +POPOVA. Very well.... It's inconvenient to shoot in a room, let's go +into the garden. + +SMIRNOV. Come along then. But I warn you, I'm going to fire in the air. + +POPOVA. That's the last straw! Why? + +SMIRNOV. Because... because... it's my affair. + +POPOVA. Are you afraid? Yes? Ah! No, sir, you don't get out of it! You +come with me! I shan't have any peace until I've made a hole in your +forehead... that forehead which I hate so much! Are you afraid? + +SMIRNOV. Yes, I am afraid. + +POPOVA. You lie! Why won't you fight? + +SMIRNOV. Because... because you... because I like you. + +POPOVA. [Laughs] He likes me! He dares to say that he likes me! [Points +to the door] That's the way. + +SMIRNOV. [Loads the revolver in silence, takes his cap and goes to the +door. There he stops for half a minute, while they look at each other +in silence, then he hesitatingly approaches POPOVA] Listen.... Are you +still angry? I'm devilishly annoyed, too... but, do you understand... +how can I express myself?... The fact is, you see, it's like this, so to +speak.... [Shouts] Well, is it my fault that I like you? [He snatches at +the back of a chair; the chair creaks and breaks] Devil take it, how I'm +smashing up your furniture! I like you! Do you understand? I... I almost +love you! + +POPOVA. Get away from me--I hate you! + +SMIRNOV. God, what a woman! I've never in my life seen one like her! I'm +lost! Done for! Fallen into a mousetrap, like a mouse! + +POPOVA. Stand back, or I'll fire! + +SMIRNOV. Fire, then! You can't understand what happiness it would be to +die before those beautiful eyes, to be shot by a revolver held in that +little, velvet hand.... I'm out of my senses! Think, and make up your +mind at once, because if I go out we shall never see each other again! +Decide now.... I am a landowner, of respectable character, have an +income of ten thousand a year. I can put a bullet through a coin tossed +into the air as it comes down.... I own some fine horses.... Will you be +my wife? + +POPOVA. [Indignantly shakes her revolver] Let's fight! Let's go out! + +SMIRNOV. I'm mad.... I understand nothing. [Yells] Waiter, water! + +POPOVA. [Yells] Let's go out and fight! + +SMIRNOV. I'm off my head, I'm in love like a boy, like a fool! [Snatches +her hand, she screams with pain] I love you! [Kneels] I love you as I've +never loved before! I've refused twelve women, nine have refused me, +but I never loved one of them as I love you.... I'm weak, I'm wax, I've +melted.... I'm on my knees like a fool, offering you my hand.... Shame, +shame! I haven't been in love for five years, I'd taken a vow, and now +all of a sudden I'm in love, like a fish out of water! I offer you my +hand. Yes or no? You don't want me? Very well! [Gets up and quickly goes +to the door.] + +POPOVA. Stop. + +SMIRNOV. [Stops] Well? + +POPOVA. Nothing, go away.... No, stop.... No, go away, go away! I hate +you! Or no.... Don't go away! Oh, if you knew how angry I am, how angry +I am! [Throws her revolver on the table] My fingers have swollen because +of all this.... [Tears her handkerchief in temper] What are you waiting +for? Get out! + +SMIRNOV. Good-bye. + +POPOVA. Yes, yes, go away!... [Yells] Where are you going? Stop.... No, +go away. Oh, how angry I am! Don't come near me, don't come near me! + +SMIRNOV. [Approaching her] How angry I am with myself! I'm in love like +a student, I've been on my knees.... [Rudely] I love you! What do I want +to fall in love with you for? To-morrow I've got to pay the interest, +and begin mowing, and here you.... [Puts his arms around her] I shall +never forgive myself for this.... + +POPOVA. Get away from me! Take your hands away! I hate you! Let's go and +fight! + +[A prolonged kiss. Enter LUKA with an axe, the GARDENER with a rake, the +COACHMAN with a pitchfork, and WORKMEN with poles.] + +LUKA. [Catches sight of the pair kissing] Little fathers! [Pause.] + +POPOVA. [Lowering her eyes] Luka, tell them in the stables that Toby +isn't to have any oats at all to-day. + +Curtain. + + + + + +A TRAGEDIAN IN SPITE OF HIMSELF + + +CHARACTERS + + IVAN IVANOVITCH TOLKACHOV, the father of a family + ALEXEY ALEXEYEVITCH MURASHKIN, his friend + +The scene is laid in St. Petersburg, in MURASHKIN'S flat + + +[MURASHKIN'S study. Comfortable furniture. MURASHKIN is seated at his +desk. Enter TOLKACHOV holding in his hands a glass globe for a lamp, +a toy bicycle, three hat-boxes, a large parcel containing a dress, a +bin-case of beer, and several little parcels. He looks round stupidly +and lets himself down on the sofa in exhaustion.] + +MURASHKIN. How do you do, Ivan Ivanovitch? Delighted to see you! What +brings you here? + +TOLKACHOV. [Breathing heavily] My dear good fellow... I want to ask +you something.... I implore you lend me a revolver till to-morrow. Be a +friend! + +MURASHKIN. What do you want a revolver for? + +TOLKACHOV. I must have it.... Oh, little fathers!... give me some +water... water quickly!... I must have it... I've got to go through a +dark wood to-night, so in case of accidents... do, please, lend it to +me. + +MURASHKIN. Oh, you liar, Ivan Ivanovitch! What the devil have you got to +do in a dark wood? I expect you are up to something. I can see by your +face that you are up to something. What's the matter with you? Are you +ill? + +TOLKACHOV. Wait a moment, let me breathe.... Oh little mothers! I am +dog-tired. I've got a feeling all over me, and in my head as well, as if +I've been roasted on a spit. I can't stand it any longer. Be a friend, +and don't ask me any questions or insist on details; just give me the +revolver! I beseech you! + +MURASHKIN. Well, really! Ivan Ivanovitch, what cowardice is this? The +father of a family and a Civil Servant holding a responsible post! For +shame! + +TOLKACHOV. What sort of a father of a family am I! I am a martyr. I am +a beast of burden, a nigger, a slave, a rascal who keeps on waiting here +for something to happen instead of starting off for the next world. I am +a rag, a fool, an idiot. Why am I alive? What's the use? [Jumps up] Well +now, tell me why am I alive? What's the purpose of this uninterrupted +series of mental and physical sufferings? I understand being a martyr +to an idea, yes! But to be a martyr to the devil knows what, skirts and +lamp-globes, no! I humbly decline! No, no, no! I've had enough! Enough! + +MURASHKIN. Don't shout, the neighbours will hear you! + +TOLKACHOV. Let your neighbours hear; it's all the same to me! If you +don't give me a revolver somebody else will, and there will be an end of +me anyway! I've made up my mind! + +MURASHKIN. Hold on, you've pulled off a button. Speak calmly. I still +don't understand what's wrong with your life. + +TOLKACHOV. What's wrong? You ask me what's wrong? Very well, I'll tell +you! Very well! I'll tell you everything, and then perhaps my soul will +be lighter. Let's sit down. Now listen... Oh, little mothers, I am out +of breath!... Just let's take to-day as an instance. Let's take to-day. +As you know, I've got to work at the Treasury from ten to four. It's +hot, it's stuffy, there are flies, and, my dear fellow, the very dickens +of a chaos. The Secretary is on leave, Khrapov has gone to get married, +and the smaller fry is mostly in the country, making love or occupied +with amateur theatricals. Everybody is so sleepy, tired, and done up +that you can't get any sense out of them. The Secretary's duties are in +the hands of an individual who is deaf in the left ear and in love; the +public has lost its memory; everybody is running about angry and raging, +and there is such a hullabaloo that you can't hear yourself speak. +Confusion and smoke everywhere. And my work is deathly: always the same, +always the same--first a correction, then a reference back, another +correction, another reference back; it's all as monotonous as the waves +of the sea. One's eyes, you understand, simply crawl out of one's head. +Give me some water.... You come out a broken, exhausted man. You would +like to dine and fall asleep, but you don't!--You remember that you live +in the country--that is, you are a slave, a rag, a bit of string, a bit +of limp flesh, and you've got to run round and do errands. Where we live +a pleasant custom has grown up: when a man goes to town every wretched +female inhabitant, not to mention one's own wife, has the power and the +right to give him a crowd of commissions. The wife orders you to run +into the modiste's and curse her for making a bodice too wide across the +chest and too narrow across the shoulders; little Sonya wants a new pair +of shoes; your sister-in-law wants some scarlet silk like the pattern +at twenty copecks and three arshins long.... Just wait; I'll read you. +[Takes a note out of his pocket and reads] A globe for the lamp; one +pound of pork sausages; five copecks' worth of cloves and cinnamon; +castor-oil for Misha; ten pounds of granulated sugar. To bring with you +from home: a copper jar for the sugar; carbolic acid; insect powder, ten +copecks' worth; twenty bottles of beer; vinegar; and corsets for Mlle. +Shanceau at No. 82.... Ouf! And to bring home Misha's winter coat and +goloshes. That is the order of my wife and family. Then there are +the commissions of our dear friends and neighbours--devil take them! +To-morrow is the name-day of Volodia Vlasin; I have to buy a bicycle +for him. The wife of Lieutenant-Colonel Virkhin is in an interesting +condition, and I am therefore bound to call in at the midwife's every +day and invite her to come. And so on, and so on. There are five notes +in my pocket and my handkerchief is all knots. And so, my dear fellow, +you spend the time between your office and your train, running about the +town like a dog with your tongue hanging out, running and running and +cursing life. From the clothier's to the chemist's, from the chemist's +to the modiste's, from the modiste's to the pork butcher's, and then +back again to the chemist's. In one place you stumble, in a second you +lose your money, in a third you forget to pay and they raise a hue and +cry after you, in a fourth you tread on the train of a lady's dress.... +Tfoo! You get so shaken up from all this that your bones ache all night +and you dream of crocodiles. Well, you've made all your purchases, but +how are you to pack all these things? For instance, how are you to put a +heavy copper jar together with the lamp-globe or the carbolic acid with +the tea? How are you to make a combination of beer-bottles and this +bicycle? It's the labours of Hercules, a puzzle, a rebus! Whatever +tricks you think of, in the long run you're bound to smash or scatter +something, and at the station and in the train you have to stand with +your arms apart, holding up some parcel or other under your chin, with +parcels, cardboard boxes, and such-like rubbish all over you. The train +starts, the passengers begin to throw your luggage about on all sides: +you've got your things on somebody else's seat. They yell, they call for +the conductor, they threaten to have you put out, but what can I do? I +just stand and blink my eyes like a whacked donkey. Now listen to this. +I get home. You think I'd like to have a nice little drink after my +righteous labours and a good square meal--isn't that so?--but there is +no chance of that. My spouse has been on the look-out for me for some +time. You've hardly started on your soup when she has her claws into +you, wretched slave that you are--and wouldn't you like to go to some +amateur theatricals or to a dance? You can't protest. You are a husband, +and the word husband when translated into the language of summer +residents in the country means a dumb beast which you can load to +any extent without fear of the interference of the Society for the +Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. So you go and blink at "A Family +Scandal" or something, you applaud when your wife tells you to, and you +feel worse and worse and worse until you expect an apoplectic fit to +happen any moment. If you go to a dance you have to find partners +for your wife, and if there is a shortage of them then you dance the +quadrilles yourself. You get back from the theatre or the dance after +midnight, when you are no longer a man but a useless, limp rag. Well, +at last you've got what you want; you unrobe and get into bed. It's +excellent--you can close your eyes and sleep.... Everything is so nice, +poetic, and warm, you understand; there are no children squealing +behind the wall, and you've got rid of your wife, and your conscience is +clear--what more can you want? You fall asleep--and suddenly... you +hear a buzz!... Gnats! [Jumps up] Gnats! Be they triply accursed Gnats! +[Shakes his fist] Gnats! It's one of the plagues of Egypt, one of the +tortures of the Inquisition! Buzz! It sounds so pitiful, so pathetic, as +if it's begging your pardon, but the villain stings so that you have +to scratch yourself for an hour after. You smoke, and go for them, and +cover yourself from head to foot, but it is no good! At last you have +to sacrifice yourself and let the cursed things devour you. You've no +sooner got used to the gnats when another plague begins: downstairs +your wife begins practising sentimental songs with her two friends. They +sleep by day and rehearse for amateur concerts by night. Oh, my God! +Those tenors are a torture with which no gnats on earth can compare. +[He sings] "Oh, tell me not my youth has ruined you." "Before thee do I +stand enchanted." Oh, the beastly things! They've about killed me! So +as to deafen myself a little I do this: I drum on my ears. This goes on +till four o'clock. Oh, give me some more water, brother!... I can't... +Well, not having slept, you get up at six o'clock in the morning and +off you go to the station. You run so as not to be late, and it's muddy, +foggy, cold--brr! Then you get to town and start all over again. So +there, brother. It's a horrible life; I wouldn't wish one like it for my +enemy. You understand--I'm ill! Got asthma, heartburn--I'm always afraid +of something. I've got indigestion, everything is thick before me... +I've become a regular psychopath.... [Looking round] Only, between +ourselves, I want to go down to see Chechotte or Merzheyevsky. There's +some devil in me, brother. In moments of despair and suffering, when the +gnats are stinging or the tenors sing, everything suddenly grows dim; +you jump up and race round the whole house like a lunatic and shout, "I +want blood! Blood!" And really all the time you do want to let a knife +into somebody or hit him over the head with a chair. That's what life +in a summer villa leads to! And nobody has any sympathy for me, and +everybody seems to think it's all as it should be. People even laugh. +But understand, I am a living being and I want to live! This isn't +farce, it's tragedy! I say, if you don't give me your revolver, you +might at any rate sympathize. + +MURASHKIN. I do sympathize. + +TOLKACHOV. I see how much you sympathize.... Good-bye. I've got to buy +some anchovies and some sausage... and some tooth-powder, and then to +the station. + +MURASHKIN. Where are you living? + +TOLKACHOV. At Carrion River. + +MURASHKIN. [Delighted] Really? Then you'll know Olga Pavlovna Finberg, +who lives there? + +TOLKACHOV. I know her. We are even acquainted. + +MURASHKIN. How perfectly splendid! That's so convenient, and it would be +so good of you... + +TOLKACHOV. What's that? + +MURASHKIN. My dear fellow, wouldn't you do one little thing for me? Be a +friend! Promise me now. + +TOLKACHOV. What's that? + +MURASHKIN. It would be such a friendly action! I implore you, my dear +man. In the first place, give Olga Pavlovna my very kind regards. In the +second place, there's a little thing I'd like you to take down to her. +She asked me to get a sewing-machine but I haven't anybody to send it +down to her by.... You take it, my dear! And you might at the same time +take down this canary in its cage... only be careful, or you'll break +the door.... What are you looking at me like that for? + +TOLKACHOV. A sewing-machine... a canary in a cage... siskins, +chaffinches... + +MURASHKIN. Ivan Ivanovitch, what's the matter with you? Why are you +turning purple? + +TOLKACHOV. [Stamping] Give me the sewing-machine! Where's the bird-cage? +Now get on top yourself! Eat me! Tear me to pieces! Kill me! [Clenching +his fists] I want blood! Blood! Blood! + +MURASHKIN. You've gone mad! + +TOLKACHOV. [Treading on his feet] I want blood! Blood! + +MURASHKIN. [In horror] He's gone mad! [Shouts] Peter! Maria! Where are +you? Help! + +TOLKACHOV. [Chasing him round the room] I want blood! Blood! + +Curtain. + + + + + +THE ANNIVERSARY + + +CHARACTERS + + ANDREY ANDREYEVITCH SHIPUCHIN, Chairman of the N---- Joint Stock + Bank, a middle-aged man, with a monocle + TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA, his wife, aged 25 + KUSMA NICOLAIEVITCH KHIRIN, the bank's aged book-keeper + NASTASYA FYODOROVNA MERCHUTKINA, an old woman wearing an old-fashioned + cloak + DIRECTORS OF THE BANK + EMPLOYEES OF THE BANK + +The action takes place at the Bank + + +[The private office of the Chairman of Directors. On the left is a door, +leading into the public department. There are two desks. The furniture +aims at a deliberately luxurious effect, with armchairs covered in +velvet, flowers, statues, carpets, and a telephone. It is midday. KHIRIN +is alone; he wears long felt boots, and is shouting through the door.] + +KHIRIN. Send out to the chemist for 15 copecks' worth of valerian drops, +and tell them to bring some drinking water into the Directors' office! +This is the hundredth time I've asked! [Goes to a desk] I'm absolutely +tired out. This is the fourth day I've been working, without a chance of +shutting my eyes. From morning to evening I work here, from evening to +morning at home. [Coughs] And I've got an inflammation all over me. +I'm hot and cold, and I cough, and my legs ache, and there's something +dancing before my eyes. [Sits] Our scoundrel of a Chairman, the brute, +is going to read a report at a general meeting. "Our Bank, its Present +and Future." You'd think he was a Gambetta.... [At work] Two... one... +one... six... nought... seven.... Next, six... nought... one... six.... +He just wants to throw dust into people's eyes, and so I sit here and +work for him like a galley-slave! This report of his is poetic fiction +and nothing more, and here I've got to sit day after day and add +figures, devil take his soul! [Rattles on his counting-frame] I can't +stand it! [Writing] That is, one... three... seven... two... one... +nought.... He promised to reward me for my work. If everything goes well +to-day and the public is properly put into blinkers, he's promised me a +gold charm and 300 roubles bonus.... We'll see. [Works] Yes, but if +my work all goes for nothing, then you'd better look out.... I'm very +excitable.... If I lose my temper I'm capable of committing some crime, +so look out! Yes! + +[Noise and applause behind the scenes. SHIPUCHIN'S voice: "Thank +you! Thank you! I am extremely grateful." Enter SHIPUCHIN. He wears +a frockcoat and white tie; he carries an album which has been just +presented to him.] + +SHIPUCHIN. [At the door, addresses the outer office] This present, my +dear colleagues, will be preserved to the day of my death, as a memory +of the happiest days of my life! Yes, gentlemen! Once more, I thank you! +[Throws a kiss into the air and turns to KHIRIN] My dear, my respected +Kusma Nicolaievitch! + +[All the time that SHIPUCHIN is on the stage, clerks intermittently come +in with papers for his signature and go out.] + +KHIRIN. [Standing up] I have the honour to congratulate you, Andrey +Andreyevitch, on the fiftieth anniversary of our Bank, and hope that... + +SHIPUCHIN. [Warmly shakes hands] Thank you, my dear sir! Thank you! +I think that in view of the unique character of the day, as it is an +anniversary, we may kiss each other!... [They kiss] I am very, very +glad! Thank you for your service... for everything! If, in the course of +the time during which I have had the honour to be Chairman of this Bank +anything useful has been done, the credit is due, more than to anybody +else, to my colleagues. [Sighs] Yes, fifteen years! Fifteen years as my +name's Shipuchin! [Changes his tone] Where's my report? Is it getting +on? + +KHIRIN. Yes; there's only five pages left. + +SHIPUCHIN. Excellent. Then it will be ready by three? + +KHIRIN. If nothing occurs to disturb me, I'll get it done. Nothing of +any importance is now left. + +SHIPUCHIN. Splendid. Splendid, as my name's Shipuchin! The general +meeting will be at four. If you please, my dear fellow. Give me the +first half, I'll peruse it.... Quick.... [Takes the report] I base +enormous hopes on this report. It's my _profession de foi_, or, better +still, my firework. [Note: The actual word employed.] My firework, as my +name's Shipuchin! [Sits and reads the report to himself] I'm hellishly +tired.... My gout kept on giving me trouble last night, all the morning +I was running about, and then these excitements, ovations, agitations... +I'm tired! + +KHIRIN. Two... nought... nought... three... nine... two... nought. I +can't see straight after all these figures.... Three... one... six... +four... one... five.... [Uses the counting-frame.] + +SHIPUCHIN. Another unpleasantness.... This morning your wife came to +see me and complained about you once again. Said that last night you +threatened her and her sister with a knife. Kusma Nicolaievitch, what do +you mean by that? Oh, oh! + +KHIRIN. [Rudely] As it's an anniversary, Andrey Andreyevitch, I'll ask +for a special favour. Please, even if it's only out of respect for my +toil, don't interfere in my family life. Please! + +SHIPUCHIN. [Sighs] Yours is an impossible character, Kusma +Nicolaievitch! You're an excellent and respected man, but you behave to +women like some scoundrel. Yes, really. I don't understand why you hate +them so? + +KHIRIN. I wish I could understand why you love them so! [Pause.] + +SHIPUCHIN. The employees have just presented me with an album; and the +Directors, as I've heard, are going to give me an address and a silver +loving-cup.... [Playing with his monocle] Very nice, as my name's +Shipuchin! It isn't excessive. A certain pomp is essential to the +reputation of the Bank, devil take it! You know everything, of +course.... I composed the address myself, and I bought the cup myself, +too.... Well, then there was 45 roubles for the cover of the address, +but you can't do without that. They'd never have thought of it for +themselves. [Looks round] Look at the furniture! Just look at it! They +say I'm stingy, that all I want is that the locks on the doors should +be polished, that the employees should wear fashionable ties, and that +a fat hall-porter should stand by the door. No, no, sirs. Polished locks +and a fat porter mean a good deal. I can behave as I like at home, eat +and sleep like a pig, get drunk.... + +KHIRIN. Please don't make hints. + +SHIPUCHIN. Nobody's making hints! What an impossible character +yours is.... As I was saying, at home I can live like a tradesman, a +_parvenu_, and be up to any games I like, but here everything must be +_en grand_. This is a Bank! Here every detail must _imponiren_, so to +speak, and have a majestic appearance. [He picks up a paper from the +floor and throws it into the fireplace] My service to the Bank has been +just this--I've raised its reputation. A thing of immense importance is +tone! Immense, as my name's Shipuchin! [Looks over KHIRIN] My dear man, +a deputation of shareholders may come here any moment, and there you are +in felt boots, wearing a scarf... in some absurdly coloured jacket.... +You might have put on a frock-coat, or at any rate a dark jacket.... + +KHIRIN. My health matters more to me than your shareholders. I've an +inflammation all over me. + +SHIPUCHIN. [Excitedly] But you will admit that it's untidy! You spoil +the _ensemble_! + +KHIRIN. If the deputation comes I can go and hide myself. It won't +matter if... seven... one... seven... two... one... five... nought. +I don't like untidiness myself.... Seven... two... nine... [Uses the +counting-frame] I can't stand untidiness! It would have been wiser of +you not to have invited ladies to to-day's anniversary dinner.... + +SHIPUCHIN. Oh, that's nothing. + +KHIRIN. I know that you're going to have the hall filled with them +to-night to make a good show, but you look out, or they'll spoil +everything. They cause all sorts of mischief and disorder. + +SHIPUCHIN. On the contrary, feminine society elevates! + +KHIRIN. Yes.... Your wife seems intelligent, but on the Monday of last +week she let something off that upset me for two days. In front of a +lot of people she suddenly asks: "Is it true that at our Bank my husband +bought up a lot of the shares of the Driazhsky-Priazhsky Bank, which +have been falling on exchange? My husband is so annoyed about it!" This +in front of people. Why do you tell them everything, I don't understand. +Do you want them to get you into serious trouble? + +SHIPUCHIN. Well, that's enough, enough! All that's too dull for an +anniversary. Which reminds me, by the way. [Looks at the time] My wife +ought to be here soon. I really ought to have gone to the station, to +meet the poor little thing, but there's no time.... and I'm tired. I +must say I'm not glad of her! That is to say, I am glad, but I'd be +gladder if she only stayed another couple of days with her mother. +She'll want me to spend the whole evening with her to-night, whereas +we have arranged a little excursion for ourselves.... [Shivers] Oh, my +nerves have already started dancing me about. They are so strained that +I think the very smallest trifle would be enough to make me break into +tears! No, I must be strong, as my name's Shipuchin! + +[Enter TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA SHIPUCHIN in a waterproof, with a little +travelling satchel slung across her shoulder.] + +SHIPUCHIN. Ah! In the nick of time! + +TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. Darling! + +[Runs to her husband: a prolonged kiss.] + +SHIPUCHIN. We were only speaking of you just now! [Looks at his watch.] + +TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [Panting] Were you very dull without me? Are you +well? I haven't been home yet, I came here straight from the station. +I've a lot, a lot to tell you.... I couldn't wait.... I shan't take off +my clothes, I'll only stay a minute. [To KHIRIN] Good morning, Kusma +Nicolaievitch! [To her husband] Is everything all right at home? + +SHIPUCHIN. Yes, quite. And, you know, you've got to look plumper and +better this week.... Well, what sort of a time did you have? + +TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. Splendid. Mamma and Katya send their regards. +Vassili Andreitch sends you a kiss. [Kisses him] Aunt sends you a jar +of jam, and is annoyed because you don't write. Zina sends you a kiss. +[Kisses.] Oh, if you knew what's happened. If you only knew! I'm even +frightened to tell you! Oh, if you only knew! But I see by your eyes +that you're sorry I came! + +SHIPUCHIN. On the contrary.... Darling.... [Kisses her.] + +[KHIRIN coughs angrily.] + +TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. Oh, poor Katya, poor Katya! I'm so sorry for her, so +sorry for her. + +SHIPUCHIN. This is the Bank's anniversary to-day, darling, we may get a +deputation of the shareholders at any moment, and you're not dressed. + +TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. Oh, yes, the anniversary! I congratulate you, +gentlemen. I wish you.... So it means that to-day's the day of the +meeting, the dinner.... That's good. And do you remember that beautiful +address which you spent such a long time composing for the shareholders? +Will it be read to-day? + +[KHIRIN coughs angrily.] + +SHIPUCHIN. [Confused] My dear, we don't talk about these things. You'd +really better go home. + +TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. In a minute, in a minute. I'll tell you everything +in one minute and go. I'll tell you from the very beginning. Well.... +When you were seeing me off, you remember I was sitting next to that +stout lady, and I began to read. I don't like to talk in the train. I +read for three stations and didn't say a word to anyone.... Well, then +the evening set in, and I felt so mournful, you know, with such sad +thoughts! A young man was sitting opposite me--not a bad-looking fellow, +a brunette.... Well, we fell into conversation.... A sailor came along +then, then some student or other.... [Laughs] I told them that I wasn't +married... and they did look after me! We chattered till midnight, the +brunette kept on telling the most awfully funny stories, and the sailor +kept on singing. My chest began to ache from laughing. And when the +sailor--oh, those sailors!--when he got to know my name was TATIANA, you +know what he sang? [Sings in a bass voice] "Onegin don't let me conceal +it, I love Tatiana madly!" [Note: From the Opera _Evgeni Onegin_--words +by Pushkin.] [Roars with laughter.] + +[KHIRIN coughs angrily.] + +SHIPUCHIN. Tania, dear, you're disturbing Kusma Nicolaievitch. Go home, +dear.... Later on.... + +TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. No, no, let him hear if he wants to, it's awfully +interesting. I'll end in a minute. Serezha came to meet me at the +station. Some young man or other turns up, an inspector of taxes, I +think... quite handsome, especially his eyes.... Serezha introduced me, +and the three of us rode off together.... It was lovely weather.... + +[Voices behind the stage: "You can't, you can't! What do you want?" +Enter MERCHUTKINA, waving her arms about.] + +MERCHUTKINA. What are you dragging at me for. What else! I want him +himself! [To SHIPUCHIN] I have the honour, your excellency... I am the +wife of a civil servant, Nastasya Fyodorovna Merchutkina. + +SHIPUCHIN. What do you want? + +MERCHUTKINA. Well, you see, your excellency, my husband has been ill for +five months, and while he was at home, getting better, he was suddenly +dismissed for no reason, your excellency, and when I went to get his +salary, they, you see, deducted 24 roubles 36 copecks from it. What for? +I ask. They said, "Well, he drew it from the employees' account, and the +others had to make it up." How can that be? How could he draw anything +without my permission? No, your excellency! I'm a poor woman... my +lodgers are all I have to live on.... I'm weak and defenceless.... +Everybody does me some harm, and nobody has a kind word for me. + +SHIPUCHIN. Excuse me. [Takes a petition from her and reads it standing.] + +TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [To KHIRIN] Yes, but first we.... Last week I +suddenly received a letter from my mother. She writes that a certain +Grendilevsky has proposed to my sister Katya. A nice, modest, young +man, but with no means of his own, and no assured position. And, +unfortunately, just think of it, Katya is absolutely gone on him. +What's to be done? Mamma writes telling me to come at once and influence +Katya.... + +KHIRIN. [Angrily] Excuse me, you've made me lose my place! You go +talking about your mamma and Katya, and I understand nothing; and I've +lost my place. + +TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. What does that matter? You listen when a lady is +talking to you! Why are you so angry to-day? Are you in love? [Laughs.] + +SHIPUCHIN. [To MERCHUTKINA] Excuse me, but what is this? I can't make +head or tail of it. + +TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. Are you in love? Aha! You're blushing! + +SHIPUCHIN. [To his wife] Tanya, dear, do go out into the public office +for a moment. I shan't be long. + +TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. All right. [Goes out.] + +SHIPUCHIN. I don't understand anything of this. You've obviously come +to the wrong place, madam. Your petition doesn't concern us at all. You +should go to the department in which your husband was employed. + +MERCHUTKINA. I've been there a good many times these five months, and +they wouldn't even look at my petition. I'd given up all hopes, but, +thanks to my son-in-law, Boris Matveyitch, I thought of coming to +you. "You go, mother," he says, "and apply to Mr. Shipuchin, he's an +influential man and can do anything." Help me, your excellency! + +SHIPUCHIN. We can't do anything for you, Mrs. Merchutkina. You must +understand that your husband, so far as I can gather, was in the employ +of the Army Medical Department, while this is a private, commercial +concern, a bank. Don't you understand that? + +MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency, I can produce a doctor's certificate of my +husband's illness. Here it is, just look at it.... + +SHIPUCHIN. [Irritated] That's all right; I quite believe you, but it's +not our business. [Behind the scene, TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA'S laughter is +heard, then a man's. SHIPUCHIN glances at the door] She's disturbing +the employees. [To MERCHUTKINA] It's strange and it's even silly. Surely +your husband knows where you ought to apply? + +MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency, I don't let him know anything. He just +cried out: "It isn't your business! Get out of this!" And... + +SHIPUCHIN. Madam, I repeat, your husband was in the employ of the Army +Medical Department, and this is a bank, a private, commercial concern. + +MERCHUTKINA. Yes, yes, yes.... I understand, my dear. In that case, your +excellency, just order them to pay me 15 roubles! I don't mind taking +that to be going on with. + +SHIPUCHIN. [Sighs] Ouf! + +KHIRIN. Andrey Andreyevitch, I'll never finish the report at this rate! + +SHIPUCHIN. One moment. [To MERCHUTKINA] I can't get any sense out of +you. But do understand that your taking this business here is as absurd +as if you took a divorce petition to a chemist's or into a gold assay +office. [Knock at the door. The voice of TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA is heard, +"Can I come in, Andrey?" SHIPUCHIN shouts] Just wait one minute, dear! +[To MERCHUTKINA] What has it got to do with us if you haven't been paid? +As it happens, madam, this is an anniversary to-day, we're busy... and +somebody may be coming here at any moment.... Excuse me.... + +MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency, have pity on me, an orphan! I'm a weak, +defenceless woman.... I'm tired to death.... I'm having trouble with my +lodgers, and on account of my husband, and I've got the house to look +after, and my son-in-law is out of work.... + +SHIPUCHIN. Mrs. Merchutkina, I... No, excuse me, I can't talk to you! My +head's even in a whirl.... You are disturbing us and making us waste +our time. [Sighs, aside] What a business, as my name's Shipuchin! +[To KHIRIN] Kusma Nicolaievitch, will you please explain to Mrs. +Merchutkina. [Waves his hand and goes out into public department.] + +KHIRIN. [Approaching MERCHUTKINA, angrily] What do you want? + +MERCHUTKINA. I'm a weak, defenceless woman.... I may look all right, but +if you were to take me to pieces you wouldn't find a single healthy bit +in me! I can hardly stand on my legs, and I've lost my appetite. I drank +my coffee to-day and got no pleasure out of it. + +KHIRIN. I ask you, what do you want? + +MERCHUTKINA. Tell them, my dear, to give me 15 roubles, and a month +later will do for the rest. + +KHIRIN. But haven't you been told perfectly plainly that this is a bank! + +MERCHUTKINA. Yes, yes.... And if you like I can show you the doctor's +certificate. + +KHIRIN. Have you got a head on your shoulders, or what? + +MERCHUTKINA. My dear, I'm asking for what's mine by law. I don't want +what isn't mine. + +KHIRIN. I ask you, madam, have you got a head on your shoulders, or +what? Well, devil take me, I haven't any time to talk to you! I'm +busy.... [Points to the door] That way, please! + +MERCHUTKINA. [Surprised] And where's the money? + +KHIRIN. You haven't a head, but this [Taps the table and then points to +his forehead.] + +MERCHUTKINA. [Offended] What? Well, never mind, never mind.... You can +do that to your own wife, but I'm the wife of a civil servant.... You +can't do that to me! + +KHIRIN. [Losing his temper] Get out of this! + +MERCHUTKINA. No, no, no... none of that! + +KHIRIN. If you don't get out this second, I'll call for the hall-porter! +Get out! [Stamping.] + +MERCHUTKINA. Never mind, never mind! I'm not afraid! I've seen the like +of you before! Miser! + +KHIRIN. I don't think I've ever seen a more awful woman in my life.... +Ouf! It's given me a headache.... [Breathing heavily] I tell you once +more... do you hear me? If you don't get out of this, you old devil, +I'll grind you into powder! I've got such a character that I'm perfectly +capable of laming you for life! I can commit a crime! + +MERCHUTKINA. I've heard barking dogs before. I'm not afraid. I've seen +the like of you before. + +KHIRIN. [In despair] I can't stand it! I'm ill! I can't! [Sits down at +his desk] They've let the Bank get filled with women, and I can't finish +my report! I can't. + +MERCHUTKINA. I don't want anybody else's money, but my own, according to +law. You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Sitting in a government office +in felt boots.... + +[Enter SHIPUCHIN and TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA.] + +TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [Following her husband] We spent the evening at the +Berezhnitskys. Katya was wearing a sky-blue frock of foulard silk, cut +low at the neck.... She looks very well with her hair done over her +head, and I did her hair myself.... She was perfectly fascinating.... + +SHIPUCHIN. [Who has had enough of it already] Yes, yes... +fascinating.... They may be here any moment.... + +MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency! + +SHIPUCHIN. [Dully] What else? What do you want? + +MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency! [Points to KHIRIN] This man... this man +tapped the table with his finger, and then his head.... You told him to +look after my affair, but he insults me and says all sorts of things. +I'm a weak, defenceless woman.... + +SHIPUCHIN. All right, madam, I'll see to it... and take the necessary +steps.... Go away now... later on! [Aside] My gout's coming on! + +KHIRIN. [In a low tone to SHIPUCHIN] Andrey Andreyevitch, send for the +hall-porter and have her turned out neck and crop! What else can we do? + +SHIPUCHIN. [Frightened] No, no! She'll kick up a row and we aren't the +only people in the building. + +MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency. + +KHIRIN. [In a tearful voice] But I've got to finish my report! I won't +have time! I won't! + +MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency, when shall I have the money? I want it +now. + +SHIPUCHIN. [Aside, in dismay] A re-mark-ab-ly beastly woman! [Politely] +Madam, I've already told you, this is a bank, a private, commercial +concern. + +MERCHUTKINA. Be a father to me, your excellency.... If the doctor's +certificate isn't enough, I can get you another from the police. Tell +them to give me the money! + +SHIPUCHIN. [Panting] Ouf! + +TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [To MERCHUTKINA] Mother, haven't you already been +told that you're disturbing them? What right have you? + +MERCHUTKINA. Mother, beautiful one, nobody will help me. All I do is to +eat and drink, and just now I didn't enjoy my coffee at all. + +SHIPUCHIN. [Exhausted] How much do you want? + +MERCHUTKINA. 24 roubles 36 copecks. + +SHIPUCHIN. All right! [Takes a 25-rouble note out of his pocket-book and +gives it to her] Here are 25 roubles. Take it and... go! + +[KHIRIN coughs angrily.] + +MERCHUTKINA. I thank you very humbly, your excellency. [Hides the +money.] + +TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [Sits by her husband] It's time I went home.... +[Looks at watch] But I haven't done yet.... I'll finish in one minute +and go away.... What a time we had! Yes, what a time! We went to spend +the evening at the Berezhnitskys.... It was all right, quite fun, but +nothing in particular.... Katya's devoted Grendilevsky was there, of +course.... Well, I talked to Katya, cried, and induced her to talk to +Grendilevsky and refuse him. Well, I thought, everything's, settled +the best possible way; I've quieted mamma down, saved Katya, and can +be quiet myself.... What do you think? Katya and I were going along the +avenue, just before supper, and suddenly... [Excitedly] And suddenly +we heard a shot.... No, I can't talk about it calmly! [Waves her +handkerchief] No, I can't! + +SHIPUCHIN. [Sighs] Ouf! + +TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [Weeps] We ran to the summer-house, and there... +there poor Grendilevsky was lying... with a pistol in his hand.... + +SHIPUCHIN. No, I can't stand this! I can't stand it! [To MERCHUTKINA] +What else do you want? + +MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency, can't my husband go back to his job? + +TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [Weeping] He'd shot himself right in the heart... +here.... And the poor man had fallen down senseless.... And he was +awfully frightened, as he lay there... and asked for a doctor. A doctor +came soon... and saved the unhappy man.... + +MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency, can't my husband go back to his job? + +SHIPUCHIN. No, I can't stand this! [Weeps] I can't stand it! [Stretches +out both his hands in despair to KHIRIN] Drive her away! Drive her away, +I implore you! + +KHIRIN. [Goes up to TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA] Get out of this! + +SHIPUCHIN. Not her, but this one... this awful woman.... [Points] That +one! + +KHIRIN. [Not understanding, to TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA] Get out of this! +[Stamps] Get out! + +TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. What? What are you doing? Have you taken leave of +your senses? + +SHIPUCHIN. It's awful? I'm a miserable man! Drive her out! Out with her! + +KHIRIN. [To TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA] Out of it! I'll cripple you! I'll knock +you out of shape! I'll break the law! + +TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [Running from him; he chases her] How dare you! You +impudent fellow! [Shouts] Andrey! Help! Andrey! [Screams.] + +SHIPUCHIN. [Chasing them] Stop! I implore you! Not such a noise? Have +pity on me! + +KHIRIN. [Chasing MERCHUTKINA] Out of this! Catch her! Hit her! Cut her +into pieces! + +SHIPUCHIN. [Shouts] Stop! I ask you! I implore you! + +MERCHUTKINA. Little fathers... little fathers! [Screams] Little +fathers!... + +TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [Shouts] Help! Help!... Oh, oh... I'm sick, I'm +sick! [Jumps on to a chair, then falls on to the sofa and groans as if +in a faint.] + +KHIRIN. [Chasing MERCHUTKINA] Hit her! Beat her! Cut her to pieces! + +MERCHUTKINA. Oh, oh... little fathers, it's all dark before me! Ah! +[Falls senseless into SHIPUCHIN'S arms. There is a knock at the door; +a VOICE announces THE DEPUTATION] The deputation... reputation... +occupation... + +KHIRIN. [Stamps] Get out of it, devil take me! [Turns up his sleeves] +Give her to me: I may break the law! + +[A deputation of five men enters; they all wear frockcoats. One carries +the velvet-covered address, another, the loving-cup. Employees look in +at the door, from the public department. TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA on the sofa, +and MERCHUTKINA in SHIPUCHIN'S arms are both groaning.] + +ONE OF THE DEPUTATION. [Reads aloud] "Deeply respected and dear Andrey +Andreyevitch! Throwing a retrospective glance at the past history of +our financial administration, and reviewing in our minds its gradual +development, we receive an extremely satisfactory impression. It is true +that in the first period of its existence, the inconsiderable amount of +its capital, and the absence of serious operations of any description, +and also the indefinite aims of this bank, made us attach an extreme +importance to the question raised by Hamlet, 'To be or not to be,' +and at one time there were even voices to be heard demanding our +liquidation. But at that moment you become the head of our concern. +Your knowledge, energies, and your native tact were the causes of +extraordinary success and widespread extension. The reputation of the +bank... [Coughs] reputation of the bank..." + +MERCHUTKINA. [Groans] Oh! Oh! + +TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [Groans] Water! Water! + +THE MEMBER OF THE DEPUTATION. [Continues] The reputation [Coughs]... the +reputation of the bank has been raised by you to such a height that we +are now the rivals of the best foreign concerns. + +SHIPUCHIN. Deputation... reputation... occupation.... Two friends that +had a walk at night, held converse by the pale moonlight.... Oh tell me +not, that youth is vain, that jealousy has turned my brain. + +THE MEMBER OF THE DEPUTATION. [Continues in confusion] "Then, throwing +an objective glance at the present condition of things, we, deeply +respected and dear Andrey Andreyevitch... [Lowering his voice] In that +case, we'll do it later on.... Yes, later on...." [DEPUTATION goes out +in confusion.] + +Curtain. + + + + + +THE THREE SISTERS + +A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS + + +CHARACTERS + + ANDREY SERGEYEVITCH PROSOROV + NATALIA IVANOVA (NATASHA), his fiancée, later his wife (28) + His sisters: + OLGA + MASHA + IRINA + FEODOR ILITCH KULIGIN, high school teacher, married to MASHA (20) + ALEXANDER IGNATEYEVITCH VERSHININ, lieutenant-colonel in charge of + a battery (42) + NICOLAI LVOVITCH TUZENBACH, baron, lieutenant in the army (30) + VASSILI VASSILEVITCH SOLENI, captain + IVAN ROMANOVITCH CHEBUTIKIN, army doctor (60) + ALEXEY PETROVITCH FEDOTIK, sub-lieutenant + VLADIMIR CARLOVITCH RODE, sub-lieutenant + FERAPONT, door-keeper at local council offices, an old man + ANFISA, nurse (80) + + +The action takes place in a provincial town. + +[Ages are stated in brackets.] + + + + +ACT I + +[In PROSOROV'S house. A sitting-room with pillars; behind is seen a +large dining-room. It is midday, the sun is shining brightly outside. In +the dining-room the table is being laid for lunch.] + +[OLGA, in the regulation blue dress of a teacher at a girl's high +school, is walking about correcting exercise books; MASHA, in a black +dress, with a hat on her knees, sits and reads a book; IRINA, in white, +stands about, with a thoughtful expression.] + +OLGA. It's just a year since father died last May the fifth, on your +name-day, Irina. It was very cold then, and snowing. I thought I would +never survive it, and you were in a dead faint. And now a year has +gone by and we are already thinking about it without pain, and you are +wearing a white dress and your face is happy. [Clock strikes twelve] And +the clock struck just the same way then. [Pause] I remember that there +was music at the funeral, and they fired a volley in the cemetery. He +was a general in command of a brigade but there were few people present. +Of course, it was raining then, raining hard, and snowing. + +IRINA. Why think about it! + +[BARON TUZENBACH, CHEBUTIKIN and SOLENI appear by the table in the +dining-room, behind the pillars.] + +OLGA. It's so warm to-day that we can keep the windows open, though the +birches are not yet in flower. Father was put in command of a brigade, +and he rode out of Moscow with us eleven years ago. I remember perfectly +that it was early in May and that everything in Moscow was flowering +then. It was warm too, everything was bathed in sunshine. Eleven years +have gone, and I remember everything as if we rode out only yesterday. +Oh, God! When I awoke this morning and saw all the light and the spring, +joy entered my heart, and I longed passionately to go home. + +CHEBUTIKIN. Will you take a bet on it? + +TUZENBACH. Oh, nonsense. + +[MASHA, lost in a reverie over her book, whistles softly.] + +OLGA. Don't whistle, Masha. How can you! [Pause] I'm always having +headaches from having to go to the High School every day and then teach +till evening. Strange thoughts come to me, as if I were already an old +woman. And really, during these four years that I have been working +here, I have been feeling as if every day my strength and youth have +been squeezed out of me, drop by drop. And only one desire grows and +gains in strength... + +IRINA. To go away to Moscow. To sell the house, drop everything here, +and go to Moscow... + +OLGA. Yes! To Moscow, and as soon as possible. + +[CHEBUTIKIN and TUZENBACH laugh.] + +IRINA. I expect Andrey will become a professor, but still, he won't want +to live here. Only poor Masha must go on living here. + +OLGA. Masha can come to Moscow every year, for the whole summer. + +[MASHA is whistling gently.] + +IRINA. Everything will be arranged, please God. [Looks out of the +window] It's nice out to-day. I don't know why I'm so happy: I +remembered this morning that it was my name-day, and I suddenly felt +glad and remembered my childhood, when mother was still with us. What +beautiful thoughts I had, what thoughts! + +OLGA. You're all radiance to-day, I've never seen you look so lovely. +And Masha is pretty, too. Andrey wouldn't be bad-looking, if he wasn't +so stout; it does spoil his appearance. But I've grown old and very +thin, I suppose it's because I get angry with the girls at school. +To-day I'm free. I'm at home. I haven't got a headache, and I feel +younger than I was yesterday. I'm only twenty-eight.... All's well, God +is everywhere, but it seems to me that if only I were married and could +stay at home all day, it would be even better. [Pause] I should love my +husband. + +TUZENBACH. [To SOLENI] I'm tired of listening to the rot you talk. +[Entering the sitting-room] I forgot to say that Vershinin, our new +lieutenant-colonel of artillery, is coming to see us to-day. [Sits down +to the piano.] + +OLGA. That's good. I'm glad. + +IRINA. Is he old? + +TUZENBACH. Oh, no. Forty or forty-five, at the very outside. [Plays +softly] He seems rather a good sort. He's certainly no fool, only he +likes to hear himself speak. + +IRINA. Is he interesting? + +TUZENBACH. Oh, he's all right, but there's his wife, his mother-in-law, +and two daughters. This is his second wife. He pays calls and tells +everybody that he's got a wife and two daughters. He'll tell you so +here. The wife isn't all there, she does her hair like a flapper and +gushes extremely. She talks philosophy and tries to commit suicide every +now and again, apparently in order to annoy her husband. I should have +left her long ago, but he bears up patiently, and just grumbles. + +SOLENI. [Enters with CHEBUTIKIN from the dining-room] With one hand I +can only lift fifty-four pounds, but with both hands I can lift 180, +or even 200 pounds. From this I conclude that two men are not twice as +strong as one, but three times, perhaps even more.... + +CHEBUTIKIN. [Reads a newspaper as he walks] If your hair is coming +out... take an ounce of naphthaline and hail a bottle of spirit... +dissolve and use daily.... [Makes a note in his pocket diary] When +found make a note of! Not that I want it though.... [Crosses it out] It +doesn't matter. + +IRINA. Ivan Romanovitch, dear Ivan Romanovitch! + +CHEBUTIKIN. What does my own little girl want? + +IRINA. Ivan Romanovitch, dear Ivan Romanovitch! I feel as if I were +sailing under the broad blue sky with great white birds around me. Why +is that? Why? + +CHEBUTIKIN. [Kisses her hands, tenderly] My white bird.... + +IRINA. When I woke up to-day and got up and dressed myself, I suddenly +began to feel as if everything in this life was open to me, and that I +knew how I must live. Dear Ivan Romanovitch, I know everything. A man +must work, toil in the sweat of his brow, whoever he may be, for that is +the meaning and object of his life, his happiness, his enthusiasm. How +fine it is to be a workman who gets up at daybreak and breaks stones in +the street, or a shepherd, or a schoolmaster, who teaches children, or +an engine-driver on the railway.... My God, let alone a man, it's better +to be an ox, or just a horse, so long as it can work, than a young woman +who wakes up at twelve o'clock, has her coffee in bed, and then spends +two hours dressing.... Oh it's awful! Sometimes when it's hot, your +thirst can be just as tiresome as my need for work. And if I don't get +up early in future and work, Ivan Romanovitch, then you may refuse me +your friendship. + +CHEBUTIKIN. [Tenderly] I'll refuse, I'll refuse.... + +OLGA. Father used to make us get up at seven. Now Irina wakes at seven +and lies and meditates about something till nine at least. And she looks +so serious! [Laughs.] + +IRINA. You're so used to seeing me as a little girl that it seems queer +to you when my face is serious. I'm twenty! + +TUZENBACH. How well I can understand that craving for work, oh God! I've +never worked once in my life. I was born in Petersburg, a chilly, lazy +place, in a family which never knew what work or worry meant. I remember +that when I used to come home from my regiment, a footman used to +have to pull off my boots while I fidgeted and my mother looked on in +adoration and wondered why other people didn't see me in the same light. +They shielded me from work; but only just in time! A new age is dawning, +the people are marching on us all, a powerful, health-giving storm is +gathering, it is drawing near, soon it will be upon us and it will drive +away laziness, indifference, the prejudice against labour, and rotten +dullness from our society. I shall work, and in twenty-five or thirty +years, every man will have to work. Every one! + +CHEBUTIKIN. I shan't work. + +TUZENBACH. You don't matter. + +SOLENI. In twenty-five years' time, we shall all be dead, thank the +Lord. In two or three years' time apoplexy will carry you off, or else +I'll blow your brains out, my pet. [Takes a scent-bottle out of his +pocket and sprinkles his chest and hands.] + +CHEBUTIKIN. [Laughs] It's quite true, I never have worked. After I came +down from the university I never stirred a finger or opened a book, I +just read the papers.... [Takes another newspaper out of his pocket] +Here we are.... I've learnt from the papers that there used to be one, +Dobrolubov [Note: Dobroluboy (1836-81), in spite of the shortness of his +career, established himself as one of the classic literary critics +of Russia], for instance, but what he wrote--I don't know... God only +knows.... [Somebody is heard tapping on the floor from below] There.... +They're calling me downstairs, somebody's come to see me. I'll be back +in a minute... won't be long.... [Exit hurriedly, scratching his beard.] + +IRINA. He's up to something. + +TUZENBACH. Yes, he looked so pleased as he went out that I'm pretty +certain he'll bring you a present in a moment. + +IRINA. How unpleasant! + +OLGA. Yes, it's awful. He's always doing silly things. + +MASHA. + + "There stands a green oak by the sea. + And a chain of bright gold is around it... + And a chain of bright gold is around it...." + +[Gets up and sings softly.] + +OLGA. You're not very bright to-day, Masha. [MASHA sings, putting on her +hat] Where are you off to? + +MASHA. Home. + +IRINA. That's odd.... + +TUZENBACH. On a name-day, too! + +MASHA. It doesn't matter. I'll come in the evening. Good-bye, dear. +[Kisses MASHA] Many happy returns, though I've said it before. In the +old days when father was alive, every time we had a name-day, thirty or +forty officers used to come, and there was lots of noise and fun, and +to-day there's only a man and a half, and it's as quiet as a desert... +I'm off... I've got the hump to-day, and am not at all cheerful, so +don't you mind me. [Laughs through her tears] We'll have a talk later +on, but good-bye for the present, my dear; I'll go somewhere. + +IRINA. [Displeased] You are queer.... + +OLGA. [Crying] I understand you, Masha. + +SOLENI. When a man talks philosophy, well, it is philosophy or at any +rate sophistry; but when a woman, or two women, talk philosophy--it's +all my eye. + +MASHA. What do you mean by that, you very awful man? + +SOLENI. Oh, nothing. You came down on me before I could say... help! +[Pause.] + +MASHA. [Angrily, to OLGA] Don't cry! + +[Enter ANFISA and FERAPONT with a cake.] + +ANFISA. This way, my dear. Come in, your feet are clean. [To IRINA] From +the District Council, from Mihail Ivanitch Protopopov... a cake. + +IRINA. Thank you. Please thank him. [Takes the cake.] + +FERAPONT. What? + +IRINA. [Louder] Please thank him. + +OLGA. Give him a pie, nurse. Ferapont, go, she'll give you a pie. + +FERAPONT. What? + +ANFISA. Come on, gran'fer, Ferapont Spiridonitch. Come on. [Exeunt.] + +MASHA. I don't like this Mihail Potapitch or Ivanitch, Protopopov. We +oughtn't to invite him here. + +IRINA. I never asked him. + +MASHA. That's all right. + +[Enter CHEBUTIKIN followed by a soldier with a silver samovar; there is +a rumble of dissatisfied surprise.] + +OLGA. [Covers her face with her hands] A samovar! That's awful! [Exit +into the dining-room, to the table.] + +IRINA. My dear Ivan Romanovitch, what are you doing! + +TUZENBACH. [Laughs] I told you so! + +MASHA. Ivan Romanovitch, you are simply shameless! + +CHEBUTIKIN. My dear good girl, you are the only thing, and the dearest +thing I have in the world. I'll soon be sixty. I'm an old man, a lonely +worthless old man. The only good thing in me is my love for you, and if +it hadn't been for that, I would have been dead long ago.... [To IRINA] +My dear little girl, I've known you since the day of your birth, I've +carried you in my arms... I loved your dead mother.... + +MASHA. But your presents are so expensive! + +CHEBUTIKIN. [Angrily, through his tears] Expensive presents.... You +really, are!... [To the orderly] Take the samovar in there.... [Teasing] +Expensive presents! + +[The orderly goes into the dining-room with the samovar.] + +ANFISA. [Enters and crosses stage] My dear, there's a strange Colonel +come! He's taken off his coat already. Children, he's coming here. Irina +darling, you'll be a nice and polite little girl, won't you.... Should +have lunched a long time ago.... Oh, Lord.... [Exit.] + +TUZENBACH. It must be Vershinin. [Enter VERSHININ] Lieutenant-Colonel +Vershinin! + +VERSHININ. [To MASHA and IRINA] I have the honour to introduce myself, +my name is Vershinin. I am very glad indeed to be able to come at last. +How you've grown! Oh! oh! + +IRINA. Please sit down. We're very glad you've come. + +VERSHININ. [Gaily] I am glad, very glad! But there are three sisters, +surely. I remember--three little girls. I forget your faces, but your +father, Colonel Prosorov, used to have three little girls, I remember +that perfectly, I saw them with my own eyes. How time does fly! Oh, +dear, how it flies! + +TUZENBACH. Alexander Ignateyevitch comes from Moscow. + +IRINA. From Moscow? Are you from Moscow? + +VERSHININ. Yes, that's so. Your father used to be in charge of a battery +there, and I was an officer in the same brigade. [To MASHA] I seem to +remember your face a little. + +MASHA. I don't remember you. + +IRINA. Olga! Olga! [Shouts into the dining-room] Olga! Come along! [OLGA +enters from the dining-room] Lieutenant Colonel Vershinin comes from +Moscow, as it happens. + +VERSHININ. I take it that you are Olga Sergeyevna, the eldest, and that +you are Maria... and you are Irina, the youngest.... + +OLGA. So you come from Moscow? + +VERSHININ. Yes. I went to school in Moscow and began my service there; I +was there for a long time until at last I got my battery and moved over +here, as you see. I don't really remember you, I only remember that +there used to be three sisters. I remember your father well; I have only +to shut my eyes to see him as he was. I used to come to your house in +Moscow.... + +OLGA. I used to think I remembered everybody, but... + +VERSHININ. My name is Alexander Ignateyevitch. + +IRINA. Alexander Ignateyevitch, you've come from Moscow. That is really +quite a surprise! + +OLGA. We are going to live there, you see. + +IRINA. We think we may be there this autumn. It's our native town, we +were born there. In Old Basmanni Road.... [They both laugh for joy.] + +MASHA. We've unexpectedly met a fellow countryman. [Briskly] I remember: +Do you remember, Olga, they used to speak at home of a "lovelorn Major." +You were only a Lieutenant then, and in love with somebody, but for some +reason they always called you a Major for fun. + +VERSHININ. [Laughs] That's it... the lovelorn Major, that's got it! + +MASHA. You only wore moustaches then. You have grown older! [Through her +tears] You have grown older! + +VERSHININ. Yes, when they used to call me the lovelorn Major, I was +young and in love. I've grown out of both now. + +OLGA. But you haven't a single white hair yet. You're older, but you're +not yet old. + +VERSHININ. I'm forty-two, anyway. Have you been away from Moscow long? + +IRINA. Eleven years. What are you crying for, Masha, you little fool.... +[Crying] And I'm crying too. + +MASHA. It's all right. And where did you live? + +VERSHININ. Old Basmanni Road. + +OLGA. Same as we. + +VERSHININ. Once I used to live in German Street. That was when the Red +Barracks were my headquarters. There's an ugly bridge in between, where +the water rushes underneath. One gets melancholy when one is alone +there. [Pause] Here the river is so wide and fine! It's a splendid +river! + +OLGA. Yes, but it's so cold. It's very cold here, and the midges.... + +VERSHININ. What are you saying! Here you've got such a fine healthy +Russian climate. You've a forest, a river... and birches. Dear, modest +birches, I like them more than any other tree. It's good to live here. +Only it's odd that the railway station should be thirteen miles away.... +Nobody knows why. + +SOLENI. I know why. [All look at him] Because if it was near it wouldn't +be far off, and if it's far off, it can't be near. [An awkward pause.] + +TUZENBACH. Funny man. + +OLGA. Now I know who you are. I remember. + +VERSHININ. I used to know your mother. + +CHEBUTIKIN. She was a good woman, rest her soul. + +IRINA. Mother is buried in Moscow. + +OLGA. At the Novo-Devichi Cemetery. + +MASHA. Do you know, I'm beginning to forget her face. We'll be forgotten +in just the same way. + +VERSHININ. Yes, they'll forget us. It's our fate, it can't be helped. A +time will come when everything that seems serious, significant, or very +important to us will be forgotten, or considered trivial. [Pause] And +the curious thing is that we can't possibly find out what will come to +be regarded as great and important, and what will be feeble, or silly. +Didn't the discoveries of Copernicus, or Columbus, say, seem unnecessary +and ludicrous at first, while wasn't it thought that some rubbish +written by a fool, held all the truth? And it may so happen that our +present existence, with which we are so satisfied, will in time appear +strange, inconvenient, stupid, unclean, perhaps even sinful.... + +TUZENBACH. Who knows? But on the other hand, they may call our life +noble and honour its memory. We've abolished torture and capital +punishment, we live in security, but how much suffering there is still! + +SOLENI. [In a feeble voice] There, there.... The Baron will go without +his dinner if you only let him talk philosophy. + +TUZENBACH. Vassili Vassilevitch, kindly leave me alone. [Changes his +chair] You're very dull, you know. + +SOLENI. [Feebly] There, there, there. + +TUZENBACH. [To VERSHININ] The sufferings we see to-day--there are so +many of them!--still indicate a certain moral improvement in society. + +VERSHININ. Yes, yes, of course. + +CHEBUTIKIN. You said just now, Baron, that they may call our life noble; +but we are very petty.... [Stands up] See how little I am. [Violin +played behind.] + +MASHA. That's Andrey playing--our brother. + +IRINA. He's the learned member of the family. I expect he will be a +professor some day. Father was a soldier, but his son chose an academic +career for himself. + +MASHA. That was father's wish. + +OLGA. We ragged him to-day. We think he's a little in love. + +IRINA. To a local lady. She will probably come here to-day. + +MASHA. You should see the way she dresses! Quite prettily, quite +fashionably too, but so badly! Some queer bright yellow skirt with a +wretched little fringe and a red bodice. And such a complexion! Andrey +isn't in love. After all he has taste, he's simply making fun of us. I +heard yesterday that she was going to marry Protopopov, the chairman +of the Local Council. That would do her nicely.... [At the side door] +Andrey, come here! Just for a minute, dear! [Enter ANDREY.] + +OLGA. My brother, Andrey Sergeyevitch. + +VERSHININ. My name is Vershinin. + +ANDREY. Mine is Prosorov. [Wipes his perspiring hands] You've come to +take charge of the battery? + +OLGA. Just think, Alexander Ignateyevitch comes from Moscow. + +ANDREY. That's all right. Now my little sisters won't give you any rest. + +VERSHININ. I've already managed to bore your sisters. + +IRINA. Just look what a nice little photograph frame Andrey gave me +to-day. [Shows it] He made it himself. + +VERSHININ. [Looks at the frame and does not know what to say] Yes.... +It's a thing that... + +IRINA. And he made that frame there, on the piano as well. [Andrey waves +his hand and walks away.] + +OLGA. He's got a degree, and plays the violin, and cuts all sorts of +things out of wood, and is really a domestic Admirable Crichton. Don't +go away, Andrey! He's got into a habit of always going away. Come here! + +[MASHA and IRINA take his arms and laughingly lead him back.] + +MASHA. Come on, come on! + +ANDREY. Please leave me alone. + +MASHA. You are funny. Alexander Ignateyevitch used to be called the +lovelorn Major, but he never minded. + +VERSHININ. Not the least. + +MASHA. I'd like to call you the lovelorn fiddler! + +IRINA. Or the lovelorn professor! + +OLGA. He's in love! little Andrey is in love! + +IRINA. [Applauds] Bravo, Bravo! Encore! Little Andrey is in love. + +CHEBUTIKIN. [Goes up behind ANDREY and takes him round the waist with +both arms] Nature only brought us into the world that we should love! +[Roars with laughter, then sits down and reads a newspaper which he +takes out of his pocket.] + +ANDREY. That's enough, quite enough.... [Wipes his face] I couldn't +sleep all night and now I can't quite find my feet, so to speak. I read +until four o'clock, then tried to sleep, but nothing happened. I thought +about one thing and another, and then it dawned and the sun crawled into +my bedroom. This summer, while I'm here, I want to translate a book from +the English.... + +VERSHININ. Do you read English? + +ANDREY. Yes father, rest his soul, educated us almost violently. It may +seem funny and silly, but it's nevertheless true, that after his death +I began to fill out and get rounder, as if my body had had some great +pressure taken off it. Thanks to father, my sisters and I know French, +German, and English, and Irina knows Italian as well. But we paid dearly +for it all! + +MASHA. A knowledge of three languages is an unnecessary luxury in this +town. It isn't even a luxury but a sort of useless extra, like a sixth +finger. We know a lot too much. + +VERSHININ. Well, I say! [Laughs] You know a lot too much! I don't think +there can really be a town so dull and stupid as to have no place for +a clever, cultured person. Let us suppose even that among the hundred +thousand inhabitants of this backward and uneducated town, there are +only three persons like yourself. It stands to reason that you won't be +able to conquer that dark mob around you; little by little as you grow +older you will be bound to give way and lose yourselves in this crowd of +a hundred thousand human beings; their life will suck you up in itself, +but still, you won't disappear having influenced nobody; later on, +others like you will come, perhaps six of them, then twelve, and so on, +until at last your sort will be in the majority. In two or three hundred +years' time life on this earth will be unimaginably beautiful and +wonderful. Mankind needs such a life, and if it is not ours to-day then +we must look ahead for it, wait, think, prepare for it. We must see and +know more than our fathers and grandfathers saw and knew. [Laughs] And +you complain that you know too much. + +MASHA. [Takes off her hat] I'll stay to lunch. + +IRINA. [Sighs] Yes, all that ought to be written down. + +[ANDREY has gone out quietly.] + +TUZENBACH. You say that many years later on, life on this earth will +be beautiful and wonderful. That's true. But to share in it now, even +though at a distance, we must prepare by work.... + +VERSHININ. [Gets up] Yes. What a lot of flowers you have. [Looks round] +It's a beautiful flat. I envy you! I've spent my whole life in rooms +with two chairs, one sofa, and fires which always smoke. I've never had +flowers like these in my life.... [Rubs his hands] Well, well! + +TUZENBACH. Yes, we must work. You are probably thinking to yourself: +the German lets himself go. But I assure you I'm a Russian, I can't even +speak German. My father belonged to the Orthodox Church.... [Pause.] + +VERSHININ. [Walks about the stage] I often wonder: suppose we could +begin life over again, knowing what we were doing? Suppose we could use +one life, already ended, as a sort of rough draft for another? I think +that every one of us would try, more than anything else, not to repeat +himself, at the very least he would rearrange his manner of life, he +would make sure of rooms like these, with flowers and light... I have +a wife and two daughters, my wife's health is delicate and so on and so +on, and if I had to begin life all over again I would not marry.... No, +no! + +[Enter KULIGIN in a regulation jacket.] + +KULIGIN. [Going up to IRINA] Dear sister, allow me to congratulate you +on the day sacred to your good angel and to wish you, sincerely and from +the bottom of my heart, good health and all that one can wish for a girl +of your years. And then let me offer you this book as a present. [Gives +it to her] It is the history of our High School during the last fifty +years, written by myself. The book is worthless, and written because I +had nothing to do, but read it all the same. Good day, gentlemen! [To +VERSHININ] My name is Kuligin, I am a master of the local High School. +[Note: He adds that he is a _Nadvorny Sovetnik_ (almost the same as +a German _Hofrat_), an undistinguished civilian title with no English +equivalent.] [To IRINA] In this book you will find a list of all those +who have taken the full course at our High School during these fifty +years. _Feci quod potui, faciant meliora potentes_. [Kisses MASHA.] + +IRINA. But you gave me one of these at Easter. + +KULIGIN. [Laughs] I couldn't have, surely! You'd better give it back +to me in that case, or else give it to the Colonel. Take it, Colonel. +You'll read it some day when you're bored. + +VERSHININ. Thank you. [Prepares to go] I am extremely happy to have made +the acquaintance of... + +OLGA. Must you go? No, not yet? + +IRINA. You'll stop and have lunch with us. Please do. + +OLGA. Yes, please! + +VERSHININ. [Bows] I seem to have dropped in on your name-day. Forgive +me, I didn't know, and I didn't offer you my congratulations. [Goes with +OLGA into the dining-room.] + +KULIGIN. To-day is Sunday, the day of rest, so let us rest and rejoice, +each in a manner compatible with his age and disposition. The carpets +will have to be taken up for the summer and put away till the winter... +Persian powder or naphthaline.... The Romans were healthy because they +knew both how to work and how to rest, they had _mens sana in corpore +sano_. Their life ran along certain recognized patterns. Our director +says: "The chief thing about each life is its pattern. Whoever loses +his pattern is lost himself"--and it's just the same in our daily life. +[Takes MASHA by the waist, laughing] Masha loves me. My wife loves me. +And you ought to put the window curtains away with the carpets.... I'm +feeling awfully pleased with life to-day. Masha, we've got to be at the +director's at four. They're getting up a walk for the pedagogues and +their families. + +MASHA. I shan't go. + +KULIGIN. [Hurt] My dear Masha, why not? + +MASHA. I'll tell you later.... [Angrily] All right, I'll go, only please +stand back.... [Steps away.] + +KULIGIN. And then we're to spend the evening at the director's. In spite +of his ill-health that man tries, above everything else, to be sociable. +A splendid, illuminating personality. A wonderful man. After yesterday's +committee he said to me: "I'm tired, Feodor Ilitch, I'm tired!" [Looks +at the clock, then at his watch] Your clock is seven minutes fast. +"Yes," he said, "I'm tired." [Violin played off.] + +OLGA. Let's go and have lunch! There's to be a masterpiece of baking! + +KULIGIN. Oh my dear Olga, my dear. Yesterday I was working till eleven +o'clock at night, and got awfully tired. To-day I'm quite happy. [Goes +into dining-room] My dear... + +CHEBUTIKIN. [Puts his paper into his pocket, and combs his beard] A pie? +Splendid! + +MASHA. [Severely to CHEBUTIKIN] Only mind; you're not to drink anything +to-day. Do you hear? It's bad for you. + +CHEBUTIKIN. Oh, that's all right. I haven't been drunk for two years. +And it's all the same, anyway! + +MASHA. You're not to dare to drink, all the same. [Angrily, but so that +her husband should not hear] Another dull evening at the Director's, +confound it! + +TUZENBACH. I shouldn't go if I were you.... It's quite simple. + +CHEBUTIKIN. Don't go. + +MASHA. Yes, "don't go...." It's a cursed, unbearable life.... [Goes into +dining-room.] + +CHEBUTIKIN. [Follows her] It's not so bad. + +SOLENI. [Going into the dining-room] There, there, there.... + +TUZENBACH. Vassili Vassilevitch, that's enough. Be quiet! + +SOLENI. There, there, there.... + +KULIGIN. [Gaily] Your health, Colonel! I'm a pedagogue and not quite at +home here. I'm Masha's husband.... She's a good sort, a very good sort. + +VERSHININ. I'll have some of this black vodka.... [Drinks] Your health! +[To OLGA] I'm very comfortable here! + +[Only IRINA and TUZENBACH are now left in the sitting-room.] + +IRINA. Masha's out of sorts to-day. She married when she was eighteen, +when he seemed to her the wisest of men. And now it's different. He's +the kindest man, but not the wisest. + +OLGA. [Impatiently] Andrey, when are you coming? + +ANDREY. [Off] One minute. [Enters and goes to the table.] + +TUZENBACH. What are you thinking about? + +IRINA. I don't like this Soleni of yours and I'm afraid of him. He only +says silly things. + +TUZENBACH. He's a queer man. I'm sorry for him, though he vexes me. I +think he's shy. When there are just the two of us he's quite all right +and very good company; when other people are about he's rough and +hectoring. Don't let's go in, let them have their meal without us. Let +me stay with you. What are you thinking of? [Pause] You're twenty. I'm +not yet thirty. How many years are there left to us, with their long, +long lines of days, filled with my love for you.... + +IRINA. Nicolai Lvovitch, don't speak to me of love. + +TUZENBACH. [Does not hear] I've a great thirst for life, struggle, and +work, and this thirst has united with my love for you, Irina, and you're +so beautiful, and life seems so beautiful to me! What are you thinking +about? + +IRINA. You say that life is beautiful. Yes, if only it seems so! The +life of us three hasn't been beautiful yet; it has been stifling us as +if it was weeds... I'm crying. I oughtn't.... [Dries her tears, smiles] +We must work, work. That is why we are unhappy and look at the world so +sadly; we don't know what work is. Our parents despised work.... + +[Enter NATALIA IVANOVA; she wears a pink dress and a green sash.] + +NATASHA. They're already at lunch... I'm late... [Carefully examines +herself in a mirror, and puts herself straight] I think my hair's done +all right.... [Sees IRINA] Dear Irina Sergeyevna, I congratulate you! +[Kisses her firmly and at length] You've so many visitors, I'm really +ashamed.... How do you do, Baron! + +OLGA. [Enters from dining-room] Here's Natalia Ivanovna. How are you, +dear! [They kiss.] + +NATASHA. Happy returns. I'm awfully shy, you've so many people here. + +OLGA. All our friends. [Frightened, in an undertone] You're wearing a +green sash! My dear, you shouldn't! + +NATASHA. Is it a sign of anything? + +OLGA. No, it simply doesn't go well... and it looks so queer. + +NATASHA. [In a tearful voice] Yes? But it isn't really green, it's too +dull for that. [Goes into dining-room with OLGA.] + +[They have all sat down to lunch in the dining-room, the sitting-room is +empty.] + +KULIGIN. I wish you a nice fiancée, Irina. It's quite time you married. + +CHEBUTIKIN. Natalia Ivanovna, I wish you the same. + +KULIGIN. Natalia Ivanovna has a fiancé already. + +MASHA. [Raps with her fork on a plate] Let's all get drunk and make life +purple for once! + +KULIGIN. You've lost three good conduct marks. + +VERSHININ. This is a nice drink. What's it made of? + +SOLENI. Blackbeetles. + +IRINA. [Tearfully] Phoo! How disgusting! + +OLGA. There is to be a roast turkey and a sweet apple pie for dinner. +Thank goodness I can spend all day and the evening at home. You'll come +in the evening, ladies and gentlemen.... + +VERSHININ. And please may I come in the evening! + +IRINA. Please do. + +NATASHA. They don't stand on ceremony here. + +CHEBUTIKIN. Nature only brought us into the world that we should love! +[Laughs.] + +ANDREY. [Angrily] Please don't! Aren't you tired of it? + +[Enter FEDOTIK and RODE with a large basket of flowers.] + +FEDOTIK. They're lunching already. + +RODE. [Loudly and thickly] Lunching? Yes, so they are.... + +FEDOTIK. Wait a minute! [Takes a photograph] That's one. No, just a +moment.... [Takes another] That's two. Now we're ready! + +[They take the basket and go into the dining-room, where they have a +noisy reception.] + +RODE. [Loudly] Congratulations and best wishes! Lovely weather to-day, +simply perfect. Was out walking with the High School students all the +morning. I take their drills. + +FEDOTIK. You may move, Irina Sergeyevna! [Takes a photograph] You +look well to-day. [Takes a humming-top out of his pocket] Here's a +humming-top, by the way. It's got a lovely note! + +IRINA. How awfully nice! + +MASHA. + + "There stands a green oak by the sea, + And a chain of bright gold is around it... + And a chain of bright gold is around it..." + +[Tearfully] What am I saying that for? I've had those words running in +my head all day.... + +KULIGIN. There are thirteen at table! + +RODE. [Aloud] Surely you don't believe in that superstition? [Laughter.] + +KULIGIN. If there are thirteen at table then it means there are lovers +present. It isn't you, Ivan Romanovitch, hang it all.... [Laughter.] + +CHEBUTIKIN. I'm a hardened sinner, but I really don't see why Natalia +Ivanovna should blush.... + +[Loud laughter; NATASHA runs out into the sitting-room, followed by +ANDREY.] + +ANDREY. Don't pay any attention to them! Wait... do stop, please.... + +NATASHA. I'm shy... I don't know what's the matter with me and they're +all laughing at me. It wasn't nice of me to leave the table like that, +but I can't... I can't. [Covers her face with her hands.] + +ANDREY. My dear, I beg you. I implore you not to excite yourself. I +assure you they're only joking, they're kind people. My dear, good girl, +they're all kind and sincere people, and they like both you and me. Come +here to the window, they can't see us here.... [Looks round.] + +NATASHA. I'm so unaccustomed to meeting people! + +ANDREY. Oh your youth, your splendid, beautiful youth! My darling, don't +be so excited! Believe me, believe me... I'm so happy, my soul is full +of love, of ecstasy.... They don't see us! They can't! Why, why or when +did I fall in love with you--Oh, I can't understand anything. My dear, +my pure darling, be my wife! I love you, love you... as never before.... +[They kiss.] + +[Two officers come in and, seeing the lovers kiss, stop in +astonishment.] + +Curtain. + + + + +ACT II + +[Scene as before. It is 8 p.m. Somebody is heard playing a concertina +outside in' the street. There is no fire. NATALIA IVANOVNA enters in +indoor dress carrying a candle; she stops by the door which leads into +ANDREY'S room.] + +NATASHA. What are you doing, Andrey? Are you reading? It's nothing, only +I.... [She opens another door, and looks in, then closes it] Isn't there +any fire.... + +ANDREY. [Enters with book in hand] What are you doing, Natasha? + +NATASHA. I was looking to see if there wasn't a fire. It's Shrovetide, +and the servant is simply beside herself; I must look out that something +doesn't happen. When I came through the dining-room yesterday midnight, +there was a candle burning. I couldn't get her to tell me who had +lighted it. [Puts down her candle] What's the time? + +ANDREY. [Looks at his watch] A quarter past eight. + +NATASHA. And Olga and Irina aren't in yet. The poor things are still at +work. Olga at the teacher's council, Irina at the telegraph office.... +[Sighs] I said to your sister this morning, "Irina, darling, you must +take care of yourself." But she pays no attention. Did you say it was a +quarter past eight? I am afraid little Bobby is quite ill. Why is he so +cold? He was feverish yesterday, but to-day he is quite cold... I am so +frightened! + +ANDREY. It's all right, Natasha. The boy is well. + +NATASHA. Still, I think we ought to put him on a diet. I am so afraid. +And the entertainers were to be here after nine; they had better not +come, Audrey. + +ANDREY. I don't know. After all, they were asked. + +NATASHA. This morning, when the little boy woke up and saw me he +suddenly smiled; that means he knew me. "Good morning, Bobby!" I said, +"good morning, darling." And he laughed. Children understand, they +understand very well. So I'll tell them, Andrey dear, not to receive the +entertainers. + +ANDREY. [Hesitatingly] But what about my sisters. This is their flat. + +NATASHA. They'll do as I want them. They are so kind.... [Going] I +ordered sour milk for supper. The doctor says you must eat sour milk +and nothing else, or you won't get thin. [Stops] Bobby is so cold. I'm +afraid his room is too cold for him. It would be nice to put him into +another room till the warm weather comes. Irina's room, for instance, +is just right for a child: it's dry and has the sun all day. I must tell +her, she can share Olga's room. It isn't as if she was at home in the +daytime, she only sleeps here.... [A pause] Andrey, darling, why are you +so silent? + +ANDREY. I was just thinking.... There is really nothing to say.... + +NATASHA. Yes... there was something I wanted to tell you.... Oh, yes. +Ferapont has come from the Council offices, he wants to see you. + +ANDREY. [Yawns] Call him here. + +[NATASHA goes out; ANDREY reads his book, stooping over the candle she +has left behind. FERAPONT enters; he wears a tattered old coat with the +collar up. His ears are muffled.] + +ANDREY. Good morning, grandfather. What have you to say? + +FERAPONT. The Chairman sends a book and some documents or other. +Here.... [Hands him a book and a packet.] + +ANDREY. Thank you. It's all right. Why couldn't you come earlier? It's +past eight now. + +FERAPONT. What? + +ANDREY. [Louder]. I say you've come late, it's past eight. + +FERAPONT. Yes, yes. I came when it was still light, but they wouldn't +let me in. They said you were busy. Well, what was I to do. If you're +busy, you're busy, and I'm in no hurry. [He thinks that ANDREY is asking +him something] What? + +ANDREY. Nothing. [Looks through the book] To-morrow's Friday. I'm not +supposed to go to work, but I'll come--all the same... and do some +work. It's dull at home. [Pause] Oh, my dear old man, how strangely life +changes, and how it deceives! To-day, out of sheer boredom, I took up +this book--old university lectures, and I couldn't help laughing. My +God, I'm secretary of the local district council, the council which has +Protopopov for its chairman, yes, I'm the secretary, and the summit of +my ambitions is--to become a member of the council! I to be a member +of the local district council, I, who dream every night that I'm a +professor of Moscow University, a famous scholar of whom all Russia is +proud! + +FERAPONT. I can't tell... I'm hard of hearing.... + +ANDREY. If you weren't, I don't suppose I should talk to you. I've got +to talk to somebody, and my wife doesn't understand me, and I'm a bit +afraid of my sisters--I don't know why unless it is that they may +make fun of me and make me feel ashamed... I don't drink, I don't like +public-houses, but how I should like to be sitting just now in Tyestov's +place in Moscow, or at the Great Moscow, old fellow! + +FERAPONT. Moscow? That's where a contractor was once telling that some +merchants or other were eating pancakes; one ate forty pancakes and he +went and died, he was saying. Either forty or fifty, I forget which. + +ANDREY. In Moscow you can sit in an enormous restaurant where you don't +know anybody and where nobody knows you, and you don't feel all the same +that you're a stranger. And here you know everybody and everybody knows +you, and you're a stranger... and a lonely stranger. + +FERAPONT. What? And the same contractor was telling--perhaps he was +lying--that there was a cable stretching right across Moscow. + +ANDREY. What for? + +FERAPONT. I can't tell. The contractor said so. + +ANDREY. Rubbish. [He reads] Were you ever in Moscow? + +FERAPONT. [After a pause] No. God did not lead me there. [Pause] Shall I +go? + +ANDREY. You may go. Good-bye. [FERAPONT goes] Good-bye. [Reads] You can +come to-morrow and fetch these documents.... Go along.... [Pause] He's +gone. [A ring] Yes, yes.... [Stretches himself and slowly goes into his +own room.] + +[Behind the scene the nurse is singing a lullaby to the child. MASHA and +VERSHININ come in. While they talk, a maidservant lights candles and a +lamp.] + +MASHA. I don't know. [Pause] I don't know. Of course, habit counts for +a great deal. After father's death, for instance, it took us a long time +to get used to the absence of orderlies. But, apart from habit, it seems +to me in all fairness that, however it may be in other towns, the best +and most-educated people are army men. + +VERSHININ. I'm thirsty. I should like some tea. + +MASHA. [Glancing at her watch] They'll bring some soon. I was given in +marriage when I was eighteen, and I was afraid of my husband because +he was a teacher and I'd only just left school. He then seemed to me +frightfully wise and learned and important. And now, unfortunately, that +has changed. + +VERSHININ. Yes... yes. + +MASHA. I don't speak of my husband, I've grown used to him, but +civilians in general are so often coarse, impolite, uneducated. Their +rudeness offends me, it angers me. I suffer when I see that a man isn't +quite sufficiently refined, or delicate, or polite. I simply suffer +agonies when I happen to be among schoolmasters, my husband's +colleagues. + +VERSHININ. Yes.... It seems to me that civilians and army men are +equally interesting, in this town, at any rate. It's all the same! If +you listen to a member of the local intelligentsia, whether to civilian +or military, he will tell you that he's sick of his wife, sick of +his house, sick of his estate, sick of his horses.... We Russians are +extremely gifted in the direction of thinking on an exalted plane, but, +tell me, why do we aim so low in real life? Why? + +MASHA. Why? + +VERSHININ. Why is a Russian sick of his children, sick of his wife? And +why are his wife and children sick of him? + +MASHA. You're a little downhearted to-day. + +VERSHININ. Perhaps I am. I haven't had any dinner, I've had nothing +since the morning. My daughter is a little unwell, and when my girls are +ill, I get very anxious and my conscience tortures me because they +have such a mother. Oh, if you had seen her to-day! What a trivial +personality! We began quarrelling at seven in the morning and at nine +I slammed the door and went out. [Pause] I never speak of her, it's +strange that I bear my complaints to you alone. [Kisses her hand] Don't +be angry with me. I haven't anybody but you, nobody at all.... [Pause.] + +MASHA. What a noise in the oven. Just before father's death there was a +noise in the pipe, just like that. + +VERSHININ. Are you superstitious? + +MASHA. Yes. + +VERSHININ. That's strange. [Kisses her hand] You are a splendid, +wonderful woman. Splendid, wonderful! It is dark here, but I see your +sparkling eyes. + +MASHA. [Sits on another chair] There is more light here. + +VERSHININ. I love you, love you, love you... I love your eyes, your +movements, I dream of them.... Splendid, wonderful woman! + +MASHA. [Laughing] When you talk to me like that, I laugh; I don't know +why, for I'm afraid. Don't repeat it, please.... [In an undertone] No, +go on, it's all the same to me.... [Covers her face with her hands] +Somebody's coming, let's talk about something else. + +[IRINA and TUZENBACH come in through the dining-room.] + +TUZENBACH. My surname is really triple. I am called Baron +Tuzenbach-Krone-Altschauer, but I am Russian and Orthodox, the same as +you. There is very little German left in me, unless perhaps it is the +patience and the obstinacy with which I bore you. I see you home every +night. + +IRINA. How tired I am! + +TUZENBACH. And I'll come to the telegraph office to see you home every +day for ten or twenty years, until you drive me away. [He sees MASHA and +VERSHININ; joyfully] Is that you? How do you do. + +IRINA. Well, I am home at last. [To MASHA] A lady came to-day to +telegraph to her brother in Saratov that her son died to-day, and she +couldn't remember the address anyhow. So she sent the telegram without +an address, just to Saratov. She was crying. And for some reason or +other I was rude to her. "I've no time," I said. It was so stupid. Are +the entertainers coming to-night? + +MASHA. Yes. + +IRINA. [Sitting down in an armchair] I want a rest. I am tired. + +TUZENBACH. [Smiling] When you come home from your work you seem so +young, and so unfortunate.... [Pause.] + +IRINA. I am tired. No, I don't like the telegraph office, I don't like +it. + +MASHA. You've grown thinner.... [Whistles a little] And you look +younger, and your face has become like a boy's. + +TUZENBACH. That's the way she does her hair. + +IRINA. I must find another job, this one won't do for me. What I wanted, +what I hoped to get, just that is lacking here. Labour without poetry, +without ideas.... [A knock on the floor] The doctor is knocking. [To +TUZENBACH] Will you knock, dear. I can't... I'm tired.... [TUZENBACH +knocks] He'll come in a minute. Something ought to be done. Yesterday +the doctor and Andrey played cards at the club and lost money. Andrey +seems to have lost 200 roubles. + +MASHA. [With indifference] What can we do now? + +IRINA. He lost money a fortnight ago, he lost money in December. Perhaps +if he lost everything we should go away from this town. Oh, my God, I +dream of Moscow every night. I'm just like a lunatic. [Laughs] We go +there in June, and before June there's still... February, March, April, +May... nearly half a year! + +MASHA. Only Natasha mustn't get to know of these losses. + +IRINA. I expect it will be all the same to her. + +[CHEBUTIKIN, who has only just got out of bed--he was resting after +dinner--comes into the dining-room and combs his beard. He then sits by +the table and takes a newspaper from his pocket.] + +MASHA. Here he is.... Has he paid his rent? + +IRINA. [Laughs] No. He's been here eight months and hasn't paid a +copeck. Seems to have forgotten. + +MASHA. [Laughs] What dignity in his pose! [They all laugh. A pause.] + +IRINA. Why are you so silent, Alexander Ignateyevitch? + +VERSHININ. I don't know. I want some tea. Half my life for a tumbler of +tea: I haven't had anything since morning. + +CHEBUTIKIN. Irina Sergeyevna! + +IRINA. What is it? + +CHEBUTIKIN. Please come here, Venez ici. [IRINA goes and sits by the +table] I can't do without you. [IRINA begins to play patience.] + +VERSHININ. Well, if we can't have any tea, let's philosophize, at any +rate. + +TUZENBACH. Yes, let's. About what? + +VERSHININ. About what? Let us meditate... about life as it will be after +our time; for example, in two or three hundred years. + +TUZENBACH. Well? After our time people will fly about in balloons, the +cut of one's coat will change, perhaps they'll discover a sixth sense +and develop it, but life will remain the same, laborious, mysterious, +and happy. And in a thousand years' time, people will still be sighing: +"Life is hard!"--and at the same time they'll be just as afraid of +death, and unwilling to meet it, as we are. + +VERSHININ. [Thoughtfully] How can I put it? It seems to me that +everything on earth must change, little by little, and is already +changing under our very eyes. After two or three hundred years, after +a thousand--the actual time doesn't matter--a new and happy age will +begin. We, of course, shall not take part in it, but we live and work +and even suffer to-day that it should come. We create it--and in that +one object is our destiny and, if you like, our happiness. + +[MASHA laughs softly.] + +TUZENBACH. What is it? + +MASHA. I don't know. I've been laughing all day, ever since morning. + +VERSHININ. I finished my education at the same point as you, I have not +studied at universities; I read a lot, but I cannot choose my books and +perhaps what I read is not at all what I should, but the longer I love, +the more I want to know. My hair is turning white, I am nearly an old +man now, but I know so little, oh, so little! But I think I know the +things that matter most, and that are most real. I know them well. And I +wish I could make you understand that there is no happiness for us, +that there should not and cannot be.... We must only work and work, and +happiness is only for our distant posterity. [Pause] If not for me, then +for the descendants of my descendants. + +[FEDOTIK and RODE come into the dining-room; they sit and sing softly, +strumming on a guitar.] + +TUZENBACH. According to you, one should not even think about happiness! +But suppose I am happy! + +VERSHININ. No. + +TUZENBACH. [Moves his hands and laughs] We do not seem to understand +each other. How can I convince you? [MASHA laughs quietly, TUZENBACH +continues, pointing at her] Yes, laugh! [To VERSHININ] Not only after +two or three centuries, but in a million years, life will still be as it +was; life does not change, it remains for ever, following its own laws +which do not concern us, or which, at any rate, you will never find out. +Migrant birds, cranes for example, fly and fly, and whatever thoughts, +high or low, enter their heads, they will still fly and not know why or +where. They fly and will continue to fly, whatever philosophers come to +life among them; they may philosophize as much as they like, only they +will fly.... + +MASHA. Still, is there a meaning? + +TUZENBACH. A meaning.... Now the snow is falling. What meaning? [Pause.] + +MASHA. It seems to me that a man must have faith, or must search for a +faith, or his life will be empty, empty.... To live and not to know why +the cranes fly, why babies are born, why there are stars in the sky.... +Either you must know why you live, or everything is trivial, not worth a +straw. [A pause.] + +VERSHININ. Still, I am sorry that my youth has gone. + +MASHA. Gogol says: life in this world is a dull matter, my masters! + +TUZENBACH. And I say it's difficult to argue with you, my masters! Hang +it all. + +CHEBUTIKIN. [Reading] Balzac was married at Berdichev. [IRINA is singing +softly] That's worth making a note of. [He makes a note] Balzac was +married at Berdichev. [Goes on reading.] + +IRINA. [Laying out cards, thoughtfully] Balzac was married at Berdichev. + +TUZENBACH. The die is cast. I've handed in my resignation, Maria +Sergeyevna. + +MASHA. So I heard. I don't see what good it is; I don't like civilians. + +TUZENBACH. Never mind.... [Gets up] I'm not handsome; what use am I as a +soldier? Well, it makes no difference... I shall work. If only just once +in my life I could work so that I could come home in the evening, +fall exhausted on my bed, and go to sleep at once. [Going into the +dining-room] Workmen, I suppose, do sleep soundly! + +FEDOTIK. [To IRINA] I bought some coloured pencils for you at Pizhikov's +in the Moscow Road, just now. And here is a little knife. + +IRINA. You have got into the habit of behaving to me as if I am a little +girl, but I am grown up. [Takes the pencils and the knife, then, with +joy] How lovely! + +FEDOTIK. And I bought myself a knife... look at it... one blade, +another, a third, an ear-scoop, scissors, nail-cleaners. + +RODE. [Loudly] Doctor, how old are you? + +CHEBUTIKIN. I? Thirty-two. [Laughter] + +FEDOTIK. I'll show you another kind of patience.... [Lays out cards.] + +[A samovar is brought in; ANFISA attends to it; a little later NATASHA +enters and helps by the table; SOLENI arrives and, after greetings, sits +by the table.] + +VERSHININ. What a wind! + +MASHA. Yes. I'm tired of winter. I've already forgotten what summer's +like. + +IRINA. It's coming out, I see. We're going to Moscow. + +FEDOTIK. No, it won't come out. Look, the eight was on the two of +spades. [Laughs] That means you won't go to Moscow. + +CHEBUTIKIN. [Reading paper] Tsitsigar. Smallpox is raging here. + +ANFISA. [Coming up to MASHA] Masha, have some tea, little mother. [To +VERSHININ] Please have some, sir... excuse me, but I've forgotten your +name.... + +MASHA. Bring some here, nurse. I shan't go over there. + +IRINA. Nurse! + +ANFISA. Coming, coming! + +NATASHA. [To SOLENI] Children at the breast understand perfectly. I said +"Good morning, Bobby; good morning, dear!" And he looked at me in quite +an unusual way. You think it's only the mother in me that is speaking; I +assure you that isn't so! He's a wonderful child. + +SOLENI. If he was my child I'd roast him on a frying-pan and eat him. +[Takes his tumbler into the drawing-room and sits in a corner.] + +NATASHA. [Covers her face in her hands] Vulgar, ill-bred man! + +MASHA. He's lucky who doesn't notice whether it's winter now, or summer. +I think that if I were in Moscow, I shouldn't mind about the weather. + +VERSHININ. A few days ago I was reading the prison diary of a French +minister. He had been sentenced on account of the Panama scandal. With +what joy, what delight, he speaks of the birds he saw through the prison +windows, which he had never noticed while he was a minister. Now, of +course, that he is at liberty, he notices birds no more than he did +before. When you go to live in Moscow you'll not notice it, in just +the same way. There can be no happiness for us, it only exists in our +wishes. + +TUZENBACH. [Takes cardboard box from the table] Where are the pastries? + +IRINA. Soleni has eaten them. + +TUZENBACH. All of them? + +ANFISA. [Serving tea] There's a letter for you. + +VERSHININ. For me? [Takes the letter] From my daughter. [Reads] Yes, of +course... I will go quietly. Excuse me, Maria Sergeyevna. I shan't have +any tea. [Stands up, excited] That eternal story.... + +MASHA. What is it? Is it a secret? + +VERSHININ. [Quietly] My wife has poisoned herself again. I must go. I'll +go out quietly. It's all awfully unpleasant. [Kisses MASHA'S hand] My +dear, my splendid, good woman... I'll go this way, quietly. [Exit.] + +ANFISA. Where has he gone? And I'd served tea.... What a man. + +MASHA. [Angrily] Be quiet! You bother so one can't have a moment's +peace.... [Goes to the table with her cup] I'm tired of you, old woman! + +ANFISA. My dear! Why are you offended! + +ANDREY'S VOICE. Anfisa! + +ANFISA. [Mocking] Anfisa! He sits there and... [Exit.] + +MASHA. [In the dining-room, by the table angrily] Let me sit down! +[Disturbs the cards on the table] Here you are, spreading your cards +out. Have some tea! + +IRINA. You are cross, Masha. + +MASHA. If I am cross, then don't talk to me. Don't touch me! + +CHEBUTIKIN. Don't touch her, don't touch her.... + +MASHA. You're sixty, but you're like a boy, always up to some beastly +nonsense. + +NATASHA. [Sighs] Dear Masha, why use such expressions? With your +beautiful exterior you would be simply fascinating in good society, +I tell you so directly, if it wasn't for your words. _Je vous prie, +pardonnez moi, Marie, mais vous avez des manières un peu grossières_. + +TUZENBACH. [Restraining his laughter] Give me... give me... there's some +cognac, I think. + +NATASHA. _Il parait, que mon Bobick déjà ne dort pas_, he has awakened. +He isn't well to-day. I'll go to him, excuse me... [Exit.] + +IRINA. Where has Alexander Ignateyevitch gone? + +MASHA. Home. Something extraordinary has happened to his wife again. + +TUZENBACH. [Goes to SOLENI with a cognac-flask in his hands] You go on +sitting by yourself, thinking of something--goodness knows what. Come +and let's make peace. Let's have some cognac. [They drink] I expect I'll +have to play the piano all night, some rubbish most likely... well, so +be it! + +SOLENI. Why make peace? I haven't quarrelled with you. + +TUZENBACH. You always make me feel as if something has taken place +between us. You've a strange character, you must admit. + +SOLENI. [Declaims] "I am strange, but who is not? Don't be angry, +Aleko!" + +TUZENBACH. And what has Aleko to do with it? [Pause.] + +SOLENI. When I'm with one other man I behave just like everybody else, +but in company I'm dull and shy and... talk all manner of rubbish. But +I'm more honest and more honourable than very, very many people. And I +can prove it. + +TUZENBACH. I often get angry with you, you always fasten on to me +in company, but I like you all the same. I'm going to drink my fill +to-night, whatever happens. Drink, now! + +SOLENI. Let's drink. [They drink] I never had anything against you, +Baron. But my character is like Lermontov's [In a low voice] I even +rather resemble Lermontov, they say.... [Takes a scent-bottle from his +pocket, and scents his hands.] + +TUZENBACH. I've sent in my resignation. Basta! I've been thinking about +it for five years, and at last made up my mind. I shall work. + +SOLENI. [Declaims] "Do not be angry, Aleko... forget, forget, thy dreams +of yore...." + +[While he is speaking ANDREY enters quietly with a book, and sits by the +table.] + +TUZENBACH. I shall work. + +CHEBUTIKIN. [Going with IRINA into the dining-room] And the food was +also real Caucasian onion soup, and, for a roast, some chehartma. + +SOLENI. Cheremsha [Note: A variety of garlic.] isn't meat at all, but a +plant something like an onion. + +CHEBUTIKIN. No, my angel. Chehartma isn't onion, but roast mutton. + +SOLENI. And I tell you, chehartma--is a sort of onion. + +CHEBUTIKIN. And I tell you, chehartma--is mutton. + +SOLENI. And I tell you, cheremsha--is a sort of onion. + +CHEBUTIKIN. What's the use of arguing! You've never been in the +Caucasus, and never ate any chehartma. + +SOLENI. I never ate it, because I hate it. It smells like garlic. + +ANDREY. [Imploring] Please, please! I ask you! + +TUZENBACH. When are the entertainers coming? + +IRINA. They promised for about nine; that is, quite soon. + +TUZENBACH. [Embraces ANDREY] + + "Oh my house, my house, my new-built house." + +ANDREY. [Dances and sings] "Newly-built of maple-wood." + +CHEBUTIKIN. [Dances] + + "Its walls are like a sieve!" [Laughter.] + +TUZENBACH. [Kisses ANDREY] Hang it all, let's drink. Andrey, old boy, +let's drink with you. And I'll go with you, Andrey, to the University of +Moscow. + +SOLENI. Which one? There are two universities in Moscow. + +ANDREY. There's one university in Moscow. + +SOLENI. Two, I tell you. + +ANDREY. Don't care if there are three. So much the better. + +SOLENI. There are two universities in Moscow! [There are murmurs and +"hushes"] There are two universities in Moscow, the old one and the new +one. And if you don't like to listen, if my words annoy you, then I need +not speak. I can even go into another room.... [Exit.] + +TUZENBACH. Bravo, bravo! [Laughs] Come on, now. I'm going to play. Funny +man, Soleni.... [Goes to the piano and plays a waltz.] + +MASHA. [Dancing solo] The Baron's drunk, the Baron's drunk, the Baron's +drunk! + +[NATASHA comes in.] + +NATASHA. [To CHEBUTIKIN] Ivan Romanovitch! + +[Says something to CHEBUTIKIN, then goes out quietly; CHEBUTIKIN touches +TUZENBACH on the shoulder and whispers something to him.] + +IRINA. What is it? + +CHEBUTIKIN. Time for us to go. Good-bye. + +TUZENBACH. Good-night. It's time we went. + +IRINA. But, really, the entertainers? + +ANDREY. [In confusion] There won't be any entertainers. You see, dear, +Natasha says that Bobby isn't quite well, and so.... In a word, I don't +care, and it's absolutely all one to me. + +IRINA. [Shrugging her shoulders] Bobby ill! + +MASHA. What is she thinking of! Well, if they are sent home, I suppose +they must go. [To IRINA] Bobby's all right, it's she herself.... Here! +[Taps her forehead] Little bourgeoise! + +[ANDREY goes to his room through the right-hand door, CHEBUTIKIN follows +him. In the dining-room they are saying good-bye.] + +FEDOTIK. What a shame! I was expecting to spend the evening here, but of +course, if the little baby is ill... I'll bring him some toys to-morrow. + +RODE. [Loudly] I slept late after dinner to-day because I thought I was +going to dance all night. It's only nine o'clock now! + +MASHA. Let's go into the street, we can talk there. Then we can settle +things. + +(Good-byes and good nights are heard. TUZENBACH'S merry laughter is +heard. [All go out] ANFISA and the maid clear the table, and put out +the lights. [The nurse sings] ANDREY, wearing an overcoat and a hat, and +CHEBUTIKIN enter silently.) + +CHEBUTIKIN. I never managed to get married because my life flashed by +like lightning, and because I was madly in love with your mother, who +was married. + +ANDREY. One shouldn't marry. One shouldn't, because it's dull. + +CHEBUTIKIN. So there I am, in my loneliness. Say what you will, +loneliness is a terrible thing, old fellow.... Though really... of +course, it absolutely doesn't matter! + +ANDREY. Let's be quicker. + +CHEBUTIKIN. What are you in such a hurry for? We shall be in time. + +ANDREY. I'm afraid my wife may stop me. + +CHEBUTIKIN. Ah! + +ANDREY. I shan't play to-night, I shall only sit and look on. I don't +feel very well.... What am I to do for my asthma, Ivan Romanovitch? + +CHEBUTIKIN. Don't ask me! I don't remember, old fellow, I don't know. + +ANDREY. Let's go through the kitchen. [They go out.] + +[A bell rings, then a second time; voices and laughter are heard.] + +IRINA. [Enters] What's that? + +ANFISA. [Whispers] The entertainers! [Bell.] + +IRINA. Tell them there's nobody at home, nurse. They must excuse us. + +[ANFISA goes out. IRINA walks about the room deep in thought; she is +excited. SOLENI enters.] + +SOLENI. [In surprise] There's nobody here.... Where are they all? + +IRINA. They've gone home. + +SOLENI. How strange. Are you here alone? + +IRINA. Yes, alone. [A pause] Good-bye. + +SOLENI. Just now I behaved tactlessly, with insufficient reserve. But +you are not like all the others, you are noble and pure, you can see +the truth.... You alone can understand me. I love you, deeply, beyond +measure, I love you. + +IRINA. Good-bye! Go away. + +SOLENI. I cannot live without you. [Follows her] Oh, my happiness! +[Through his tears] Oh, joy! Wonderful, marvellous, glorious eyes, such +as I have never seen before.... + +IRINA. [Coldly] Stop it, Vassili Vassilevitch! + +SOLENI. This is the first time I speak to you of love, and it is as if +I am no longer on the earth, but on another planet. [Wipes his forehead] +Well, never mind. I can't make you love me by force, of course... but I +don't intend to have any more-favoured rivals.... No... I swear to you +by all the saints, I shall kill my rival.... Oh, beautiful one! + +[NATASHA enters with a candle; she looks in through one door, then +through another, and goes past the door leading to her husband's room.] + +NATASHA. Here's Andrey. Let him go on reading. Excuse me, Vassili +Vassilevitch, I did not know you were here; I am engaged in +domesticities. + +SOLENI. It's all the same to me. Good-bye! [Exit.] + +NATASHA. You're so tired, my poor dear girl! [Kisses IRINA] If you only +went to bed earlier. + +IRINA. Is Bobby asleep? + +NATASHA. Yes, but restlessly. By the way, dear, I wanted to tell you, +but either you weren't at home, or I was busy... I think Bobby's present +nursery is cold and damp. And your room would be so nice for the child. +My dear, darling girl, do change over to Olga's for a bit! + +IRINA. [Not understanding] Where? + +[The bells of a troika are heard as it drives up to the house.] + +NATASHA. You and Olga can share a room, for the time being, and Bobby +can have yours. He's such a darling; to-day I said to him, "Bobby, +you're mine! Mine!" And he looked at me with his dear little eyes. +[A bell rings] It must be Olga. How late she is! [The maid enters and +whispers to NATASHA] Protopopov? What a queer man to do such a thing. +Protopopov's come and wants me to go for a drive with him in his troika. +[Laughs] How funny these men are.... [A bell rings] Somebody has come. +Suppose I did go and have half an hour's drive.... [To the maid] Say +I shan't be long. [Bell rings] Somebody's ringing, it must be Olga. +[Exit.] + +[The maid runs out; IRINA sits deep in thought; KULIGIN and OLGA enter, +followed by VERSHININ.] + +KULIGIN. Well, there you are. And you said there was going to be a +party. + +VERSHININ. It's queer; I went away not long ago, half an hour ago, and +they were expecting entertainers. + +IRINA. They've all gone. + +KULIGIN. Has Masha gone too? Where has she gone? And what's Protopopov +waiting for downstairs in his troika? Whom is he expecting? + +IRINA. Don't ask questions... I'm tired. + +KULIGIN. Oh, you're all whimsies.... + +OLGA. My committee meeting is only just over. I'm tired out. Our +chairwoman is ill, so I had to take her place. My head, my head is +aching.... [Sits] Andrey lost 200 roubles at cards yesterday... the +whole town is talking about it.... + +KULIGIN. Yes, my meeting tired me too. [Sits.] + +VERSHININ. My wife took it into her head to frighten me just now by +nearly poisoning herself. It's all right now, and I'm glad; I can rest +now.... But perhaps we ought to go away? Well, my best wishes, Feodor +Ilitch, let's go somewhere together! I can't, I absolutely can't stop at +home.... Come on! + +KULIGIN. I'm tired. I won't go. [Gets up] I'm tired. Has my wife gone +home? + +IRINA. I suppose so. + +KULIGIN. [Kisses IRINA'S hand] Good-bye, I'm going to rest all day +to-morrow and the day after. Best wishes! [Going] I should like some +tea. I was looking forward to spending the whole evening in pleasant +company and--o, fallacem hominum spem!... Accusative case after an +interjection.... + +VERSHININ. Then I'll go somewhere by myself. [Exit with KULIGIN, +whistling.] + +OLGA. I've such a headache... Andrey has been losing money.... The whole +town is talking.... I'll go and lie down. [Going] I'm free to-morrow.... +Oh, my God, what a mercy! I'm free to-morrow, I'm free the day after.... +Oh my head, my head.... [Exit.] + +IRINA. [alone] They've all gone. Nobody's left. + +[A concertina is being played in the street. The nurse sings.] + +NATASHA. [in fur coat and cap, steps across the dining-room, followed +by the maid] I'll be back in half an hour. I'm only going for a little +drive. [Exit.] + +IRINA. [Alone in her misery] To Moscow! Moscow! Moscow! + +Curtain. + + + + +ACT III + +[The room shared by OLGA and IRINA. Beds, screened off, on the right and +left. It is past 2 a.m. Behind the stage a fire-alarm is ringing; it has +apparently been going for some time. Nobody in the house has gone to bed +yet. MASHA is lying on a sofa dressed, as usual, in black. Enter OLGA +and ANFISA.] + +ANFISA. Now they are downstairs, sitting under the stairs. I said to +them, "Won't you come up," I said, "You can't go on like this," and they +simply cried, "We don't know where father is." They said, "He may be +burnt up by now." What an idea! And in the yard there are some people... +also undressed. + +OLGA. [Takes a dress out of the cupboard] Take this grey dress.... And +this... and the blouse as well.... Take the skirt, too, nurse.... My +God! How awful it is! The whole of the Kirsanovsky Road seems to have +burned down. Take this... and this.... [Throws clothes into her hands] +The poor Vershinins are so frightened.... Their house was nearly burnt. +They ought to come here for the night.... They shouldn't be allowed +to go home.... Poor Fedotik is completely burnt out, there's nothing +left.... + +ANFISA. Couldn't you call Ferapont, Olga dear. I can hardly manage.... + +OLGA. [Rings] They'll never answer.... [At the door] Come here, whoever +there is! [Through the open door can be seen a window, red with flame: +afire-engine is heard passing the house] How awful this is. And how I'm +sick of it! [FERAPONT enters] Take these things down.... The Kolotilin +girls are down below... and let them have them. This, too. + +FERAPONT. Yes'm. In the year twelve Moscow was burning too. Oh, my God! +The Frenchmen were surprised. + +OLGA. Go on, go on.... + +FERAPONT. Yes'm. [Exit.] + +OLGA. Nurse, dear, let them have everything. We don't want anything. +Give it all to them, nurse.... I'm tired, I can hardly keep on my +legs.... The Vershinins mustn't be allowed to go home.... The girls can +sleep in the drawing-room, and Alexander Ignateyevitch can go downstairs +to the Baron's flat... Fedotik can go there, too, or else into our +dining-room.... The doctor is drunk, beastly drunk, as if on purpose, +so nobody can go to him. Vershinin's wife, too, may go into the +drawing-room. + +ANFISA. [Tired] Olga, dear girl, don't dismiss me! Don't dismiss me! + +OLGA. You're talking nonsense, nurse. Nobody is dismissing you. + +ANFISA. [Puts OLGA'S head against her bosom] My dear, precious girl, I'm +working, I'm toiling away... I'm growing weak, and they'll all say go +away! And where shall I go? Where? I'm eighty. Eighty-one years old.... + +OLGA. You sit down, nurse dear.... You're tired, poor dear.... [Makes +her sit down] Rest, dear. You're so pale! + +[NATASHA comes in.] + +NATASHA. They are saying that a committee to assist the sufferers from +the fire must be formed at once. What do you think of that? It's a +beautiful idea. Of course the poor ought to be helped, it's the duty of +the rich. Bobby and little Sophy are sleeping, sleeping as if nothing at +all was the matter. There's such a lot of people here, the place is full +of them, wherever you go. There's influenza in the town now. I'm afraid +the children may catch it. + +OLGA. [Not attending] In this room we can't see the fire, it's quiet +here. + +NATASHA. Yes... I suppose I'm all untidy. [Before the looking-glass] +They say I'm growing stout... it isn't true! Certainly it isn't! Masha's +asleep; the poor thing is tired out.... [Coldly, to ANFISA] Don't dare +to be seated in my presence! Get up! Out of this! [Exit ANFISA; a pause] +I don't understand what makes you keep on that old woman! + +OLGA. [Confusedly] Excuse me, I don't understand either... + +NATASHA. She's no good here. She comes from the country, she ought to +live there.... Spoiling her, I call it! I like order in the house! +We don't want any unnecessary people here. [Strokes her cheek] You're +tired, poor thing! Our head mistress is tired! And when my little Sophie +grows up and goes to school I shall be so afraid of you. + +OLGA. I shan't be head mistress. + +NATASHA. They'll appoint you, Olga. It's settled. + +OLGA. I'll refuse the post. I can't... I'm not strong enough.... [Drinks +water] You were so rude to nurse just now... I'm sorry. I can't stand +it... everything seems dark in front of me.... + +NATASHA. [Excited] Forgive me, Olga, forgive me... I didn't want to +annoy you. + +[MASHA gets up, takes a pillow and goes out angrily.] + +OLGA. Remember, dear... we have been brought up, in an unusual way, +perhaps, but I can't bear this. Such behaviour has a bad effect on me, I +get ill... I simply lose heart! + +NATASHA. Forgive me, forgive me.... [Kisses her.] + +OLGA. Even the least bit of rudeness, the slightest impoliteness, upsets +me. + +NATASHA. I often say too much, it's true, but you must agree, dear, that +she could just as well live in the country. + +OLGA. She has been with us for thirty years. + +NATASHA. But she can't do any work now. Either I don't understand, or +you don't want to understand me. She's no good for work, she can only +sleep or sit about. + +OLGA. And let her sit about. + +NATASHA. [Surprised] What do you mean? She's only a servant. [Crying] I +don't understand you, Olga. I've got a nurse, a wet-nurse, we've a cook, +a housemaid... what do we want that old woman for as well? What good is +she? [Fire-alarm behind the stage.] + +OLGA. I've grown ten years older to-night. + +NATASHA. We must come to an agreement, Olga. Your place is the school, +mine--the home. You devote yourself to teaching, I, to the household. +And if I talk about servants, then I do know what I am talking about; I +do know what I am talking about... And to-morrow there's to be no more +of that old thief, that old hag... [Stamping] that witch! And don't you +dare to annoy me! Don't you dare! [Stopping short] Really, if you don't +move downstairs, we shall always be quarrelling. This is awful. + +[Enter KULIGIN.] + +KULIGIN. Where's Masha? It's time we went home. The fire seems to be +going down. [Stretches himself] Only one block has burnt down, but there +was such a wind that it seemed at first the whole town was going to +burn. [Sits] I'm tired out. My dear Olga... I often think that if +it hadn't been for Masha, I should have married you. You are awfully +nice.... I am absolutely tired out. [Listens.] + +OLGA. What is it? + +KULIGIN. The doctor, of course, has been drinking hard; he's terribly +drunk. He might have done it on purpose! [Gets up] He seems to be coming +here.... Do you hear him? Yes, here.... [Laughs] What a man... really... +I'll hide myself. [Goes to the cupboard and stands in the corner] What a +rogue. + +OLGA. He hadn't touched a drop for two years, and now he suddenly goes +and gets drunk.... + +[Retires with NATASHA to the back of the room. CHEBUTIKIN enters; +apparently sober, he stops, looks round, then goes to the wash-stand and +begins to wash his hands.] + +CHEBUTIKIN. [Angrily] Devil take them all... take them all.... They +think I'm a doctor and can cure everything, and I know absolutely +nothing, I've forgotten all I ever knew, I remember nothing, absolutely +nothing. [OLGA and NATASHA go out, unnoticed by him] Devil take it. Last +Wednesday I attended a woman in Zasip--and she died, and it's my fault +that she died. Yes... I used to know a certain amount five-and-twenty +years ago, but I don't remember anything now. Nothing. Perhaps I'm not +really a man, and am only pretending that I've got arms and legs and a +head; perhaps I don't exist at all, and only imagine that I walk, and +eat, and sleep. [Cries] Oh, if only I didn't exist! [Stops crying; +angrily] The devil only knows.... Day before yesterday they were talking +in the club; they said, Shakespeare, Voltaire... I'd never read, never +read at all, and I put on an expression as if I had read. And so did the +others. Oh, how beastly! How petty! And then I remembered the woman +I killed on Wednesday... and I couldn't get her out of my mind, and +everything in my mind became crooked, nasty, wretched.... So I went and +drank.... + +[IRINA, VERSHININ and TUZENBACH enter; TUZENBACH is wearing new and +fashionable civilian clothes.] + +IRINA. Let's sit down here. Nobody will come in here. + +VERSHININ. The whole town would have been destroyed if it hadn't been +for the soldiers. Good men! [Rubs his hands appreciatively] Splendid +people! Oh, what a fine lot! + +KULIGIN. [Coming up to him] What's the time? + +TUZENBACH. It's past three now. It's dawning. + +IRINA. They are all sitting in the dining-room, nobody is going. And +that Soleni of yours is sitting there. [To CHEBUTIKIN] Hadn't you better +be going to sleep, doctor? + +CHEBUTIKIN. It's all right... thank you.... [Combs his beard.] + +KULIGIN. [Laughs] Speaking's a bit difficult, eh, Ivan Romanovitch! +[Pats him on the shoulder] Good man! _In vino veritas_, the ancients +used to say. + +TUZENBACH. They keep on asking me to get up a concert in aid of the +sufferers. + +IRINA. As if one could do anything.... + +TUZENBACH. It might be arranged, if necessary. In my opinion Maria +Sergeyevna is an excellent pianist. + +KULIGIN. Yes, excellent! + +IRINA. She's forgotten everything. She hasn't played for three years... +or four. + +TUZENBACH. In this town absolutely nobody understands music, not a soul +except myself, but I do understand it, and assure you on my word of +honour that Maria Sergeyevna plays excellently, almost with genius. + +KULIGIN. You are right, Baron, I'm awfully fond of Masha. She's very +fine. + +TUZENBACH. To be able to play so admirably and to realize at the same +time that nobody, nobody can understand you! + +KULIGIN. [Sighs] Yes.... But will it be quite all right for her to take +part in a concert? [Pause] You see, I don't know anything about it. +Perhaps it will even be all to the good. Although I must admit that our +Director is a good man, a very good man even, a very clever man, still +he has such views.... Of course it isn't his business but still, if you +wish it, perhaps I'd better talk to him. + +[CHEBUTIKIN takes a porcelain clock into his hands and examines it.] + +VERSHININ. I got so dirty while the fire was on, I don't look like +anybody on earth. [Pause] Yesterday I happened to hear, casually, that +they want to transfer our brigade to some distant place. Some said to +Poland, others, to Chita. + +TUZENBACH. I heard so, too. Well, if it is so, the town will be quite +empty. + +IRINA. And we'll go away, too! + +CHEBUTIKIN. [Drops the clock which breaks to pieces] To smithereens! + +[A pause; everybody is pained and confused.] + +KULIGIN. [Gathering up the pieces] To smash such a valuable object--oh, +Ivan Romanovitch, Ivan Romanovitch! A very bad mark for your +misbehaviour! + +IRINA. That clock used to belong to our mother. + +CHEBUTIKIN. Perhaps.... To your mother, your mother. Perhaps I didn't +break it; it only looks as if I broke it. Perhaps we only think that +we exist, when really we don't. I don't know anything, nobody knows +anything. [At the door] What are you looking at? Natasha has a little +romance with Protopopov, and you don't see it.... There you sit and see +nothing, and Natasha has a little romance with Protopovov.... [Sings] +Won't you please accept this date.... [Exit.] + +VERSHININ. Yes. [Laughs] How strange everything really is! [Pause] When +the fire broke out, I hurried off home; when I get there I see the house +is whole, uninjured, and in no danger, but my two girls are standing by +the door in just their underclothes, their mother isn't there, the crowd +is excited, horses and dogs are running about, and the girls' faces are +so agitated, terrified, beseeching, and I don't know what else. My heart +was pained when I saw those faces. My God, I thought, what these girls +will have to put up with if they live long! I caught them up and ran, +and still kept on thinking the one thing: what they will have to live +through in this world! [Fire-alarm; a pause] I come here and find their +mother shouting and angry. [MASHA enters with a pillow and sits on +the sofa] And when my girls were standing by the door in just their +underclothes, and the street was red from the fire, there was a dreadful +noise, and I thought that something of the sort used to happen many +years ago when an enemy made a sudden attack, and looted, and burned.... +And at the same time what a difference there really is between the +present and the past! And when a little more time has gone by, in two or +three hundred years perhaps, people will look at our present life with +just the same fear, and the same contempt, and the whole past will seem +clumsy and dull, and very uncomfortable, and strange. Oh, indeed, what a +life there will be, what a life! [Laughs] Forgive me, I've dropped +into philosophy again. Please let me continue. I do awfully want to +philosophize, it's just how I feel at present. [Pause] As if they +are all asleep. As I was saying: what a life there will be! Only just +imagine.... There are only three persons like yourselves in the town +just now, but in future generations there will be more and more, and +still more, and the time will come when everything will change and +become as you would have it, people will live as you do, and then you +too will go out of date; people will be born who are better than +you.... [Laughs] Yes, to-day I am quite exceptionally in the vein. I am +devilishly keen on living.... [Sings.] + + "The power of love all ages know, + From its assaults great good does grow." [Laughs.] + +MASHA. Trum-tum-tum... + +VERSHININ. Tum-tum... + +MASHA. Tra-ra-ra? + +VERSHININ. Tra-ta-ta. [Laughs.] + +[Enter FEDOTIK.] + +FEDOTIK. [Dancing] I'm burnt out, I'm burnt out! Down to the ground! +[Laughter.] + +IRINA. I don't see anything funny about it. Is everything burnt? + +FEDOTIK. [Laughs] Absolutely. Nothing left at all. The guitar's burnt, +and the photographs are burnt, and all my correspondence.... And I was +going to make you a present of a note-book, and that's burnt too. + +[SOLENI comes in.] + +IRINA. No, you can't come here, Vassili Vassilevitch. Please go away. + +SOLENI. Why can the Baron come here and I can't? + +VERSHININ. We really must go. How's the fire? + +SOLENI. They say it's going down. No, I absolutely don't see why the +Baron can, and I can't? [Scents his hands.] + +VERSHININ. Trum-tum-tum. + +MASHA. Trum-tum. + +VERSHININ. [Laughs to SOLENI] Let's go into the dining-room. + +SOLENI. Very well, we'll make a note of it. "If I should try to make +this clear, the geese would be annoyed, I fear." [Looks at TUZENBACH] +There, there, there.... [Goes out with VERSHININ and FEDOTIK.] + +IRINA. How Soleni smelt of tobacco.... [In surprise] The Baron's asleep! +Baron! Baron! + +TUZENBACH. [Waking] I am tired, I must say.... The brickworks.... +No, I'm not wandering, I mean it; I'm going to start work soon at the +brickworks... I've already talked it over. [Tenderly, to IRINA] You're +so pale, and beautiful, and charming.... Your paleness seems to shine +through the dark air as if it was a light.... You are sad, displeased +with life.... Oh, come with me, let's go and work together! + +MASHA. Nicolai Lvovitch, go away from here. + +TUZENBACH. [Laughs] Are you here? I didn't see you. [Kisses IRINA'S +hand] good-bye, I'll go... I look at you now and I remember, as if it +was long ago, your name-day, when you, cheerfully and merrily, were +talking about the joys of labour.... And how happy life seemed to me, +then! What has happened to it now? [Kisses her hand] There are tears in +your eyes. Go to bed now; it is already day... the morning begins.... If +only I was allowed to give my life for you! + +MASHA. Nicolai Lvovitch, go away! What business... + +TUZENBACH. I'm off. [Exit.] + +MASHA. [Lies down] Are you asleep, Feodor? + +KULIGIN. Eh? + +MASHA. Shouldn't you go home. + +KULIGIN. My dear Masha, my darling Masha.... + +IRINA. She's tired out. You might let her rest, Fedia. + +KULIGIN. I'll go at once. My wife's a good, splendid... I love you, my +only one.... + +MASHA. [Angrily] Amo, amas, amat, amamus, amatis, amant. + +KULIGIN. [Laughs] No, she really is wonderful. I've been your husband +seven years, and it seems as if I was only married yesterday. On +my word. No, you really are a wonderful woman. I'm satisfied, I'm +satisfied, I'm satisfied! + +MASHA. I'm bored, I'm bored, I'm bored.... [Sits up] But I can't get it +out of my head.... It's simply disgraceful. It has been gnawing away at +me... I can't keep silent. I mean about Andrey.... He has mortgaged this +house with the bank, and his wife has got all the money; but the house +doesn't belong to him alone, but to the four of us! He ought to know +that, if he's an honourable man. + +KULIGIN. What's the use, Masha? Andrey is in debt all round; well, let +him do as he pleases. + +MASHA. It's disgraceful, anyway. [Lies down] + +KULIGIN. You and I are not poor. I work, take my classes, give private +lessons... I am a plain, honest man... _Omnia mea mecum porto_, as they +say. + +MASHA. I don't want anything, but the unfairness of it disgusts me. +[Pause] You go, Feodor. + +KULIGIN. [Kisses her] You're tired, just rest for half an hour, and I'll +sit and wait for you. Sleep.... [Going] I'm satisfied, I'm satisfied, +I'm satisfied. [Exit.] + +IRINA. Yes, really, our Andrey has grown smaller; how he's snuffed +out and aged with that woman! He used to want to be a professor, and +yesterday he was boasting that at last he had been made a member of the +district council. He is a member, and Protopopov is chairman.... The +whole town talks and laughs about it, and he alone knows and sees +nothing.... And now everybody's gone to look at the fire, but he sits +alone in his room and pays no attention, only just plays on his fiddle. +[Nervily] Oh, it's awful, awful, awful. [Weeps] I can't, I can't bear it +any longer!... I can't, I can't!... [OLGA comes in and clears up at her +little table. IRINA is sobbing loudly] Throw me out, throw me out, I +can't bear any more! + +OLGA. [Alarmed] What is it, what is it? Dear! + +IRINA. [Sobbing] Where? Where has everything gone? Where is it all? +Oh my God, my God! I've forgotten everything, everything... I don't +remember what is the Italian for window or, well, for ceiling... I +forget everything, every day I forget it, and life passes and will never +return, and we'll never go away to Moscow... I see that we'll never +go.... + +OLGA. Dear, dear.... + +IRINA. [Controlling herself] Oh, I am unhappy... I can't work, I shan't +work. Enough, enough! I used to be a telegraphist, now I work at the +town council offices, and I have nothing but hate and contempt for all +they give me to do... I am already twenty-three, I have already been +at work for a long while, and my brain has dried up, and I've grown +thinner, plainer, older, and there is no relief of any sort, and time +goes and it seems all the while as if I am going away from the real, the +beautiful life, farther and farther away, down some precipice. I'm in +despair and I can't understand how it is that I am still alive, that I +haven't killed myself. + +OLGA. Don't cry, dear girl, don't cry... I suffer, too. + +IRINA. I'm not crying, not crying.... Enough.... Look, I'm not crying +any more. Enough... enough! + +OLGA. Dear, I tell you as a sister and a friend if you want my advice, +marry the Baron. [IRINA cries softly] You respect him, you think highly +of him.... It is true that he is not handsome, but he is so honourable +and clean... people don't marry from love, but in order to do one's +duty. I think so, at any rate, and I'd marry without being in love. +Whoever he was, I should marry him, so long as he was a decent man. Even +if he was old.... + +IRINA. I was always waiting until we should be settled in Moscow, there +I should meet my true love; I used to think about him, and love him.... +But it's all turned out to be nonsense, all nonsense.... + +OLGA. [Embraces her sister] My dear, beautiful sister, I understand +everything; when Baron Nicolai Lvovitch left the army and came to us in +evening dress, [Note: I.e. in the correct dress for making a proposal of +marriage.] he seemed so bad-looking to me that I even started crying.... +He asked, "What are you crying for?" How could I tell him! But if God +brought him to marry you, I should be happy. That would be different, +quite different. + +[NATASHA with a candle walks across the stage from right to left without +saying anything.] + +MASHA. [Sitting up] She walks as if she's set something on fire. + +OLGA. Masha, you're silly, you're the silliest of the family. Please +forgive me for saying so. [Pause.] + +MASHA. I want to make a confession, dear sisters. My soul is in pain. +I will confess to you, and never again to anybody... I'll tell you this +minute. [Softly] It's my secret but you must know everything... I can't +be silent.... [Pause] I love, I love... I love that man.... You saw him +only just now.... Why don't I say it... in one word. I love Vershinin. + +OLGA. [Goes behind her screen] Stop that, I don't hear you in any case. + +MASHA. What am I to do? [Takes her head in her hands] First he seemed +queer to me, then I was sorry for him... then I fell in love with +him... fell in love with his voice, his words, his misfortunes, his two +daughters. + +OLGA. [Behind the screen] I'm not listening. You may talk any nonsense +you like, it will be all the same, I shan't hear. + +MASHA. Oh, Olga, you are foolish. I am in love--that means that is to be +my fate. It means that is to be my lot.... And he loves me.... It is all +awful. Yes; it isn't good, is it? [Takes IRINA'S hand and draws her to +her] Oh, my dear.... How are we going to live through our lives, what is +to become of us.... When you read a novel it all seems so old and easy, +but when you fall in love yourself, then you learn that nobody knows +anything, and each must decide for himself.... My dear ones, my +sisters... I've confessed, now I shall keep silence.... Like the +lunatics in Gogol's story, I'm going to be silent... silent... + +[ANDREY enters, followed by FERAPONT.] + +ANDREY. [Angrily] What do you want? I don't understand. + +FERAPONT. [At the door, impatiently] I've already told you ten times, +Andrey Sergeyevitch. + +ANDREY. In the first place I'm not Andrey Sergeyevitch, but sir. [Note: +Quite literally, "your high honour," to correspond to Andrey's rank as a +civil servant.] + +FERAPONT. The firemen, sir, ask if they can go across your garden to the +river. Else they go right round, right round; it's a nuisance. + +ANDREY. All right. Tell them it's all right. [Exit FERAPONT] I'm tired +of them. Where is Olga? [OLGA comes out from behind the screen] I came +to you for the key of the cupboard. I lost my own. You've got a little +key. [OLGA gives him the key; IRINA goes behind her screen; pause] What +a huge fire! It's going down now. Hang it all, that Ferapont made me so +angry that I talked nonsense to him.... Sir, indeed.... [A pause] Why +are you so silent, Olga? [Pause] It's time you stopped all that nonsense +and behaved as if you were properly alive.... You are here, Masha. +Irina is here, well, since we're all here, let's come to a complete +understanding, once and for all. What have you against me? What is it? + +OLGA. Please don't, Audrey dear. We'll talk to-morrow. [Excited] What an +awful night! + +ANDREY. [Much confused] Don't excite yourself. I ask you in perfect +calmness; what have you against me? Tell me straight. + +VERSHININ'S VOICE. Trum-tum-tum! + +MASHA. [Stands; loudly] Tra-ta-ta! [To OLGA] Goodbye, Olga, God bless +you. [Goes behind screen and kisses IRINA] Sleep well.... Good-bye, +Andrey. Go away now, they're tired... you can explain to-morrow.... +[Exit.] + +ANDREY. I'll only say this and go. Just now.... In the first place, +you've got something against Natasha, my wife; I've noticed it since +the very day of my marriage. Natasha is a beautiful and honest creature, +straight and honourable--that's my opinion. I love and respect my wife; +understand it, I respect her, and I insist that others should respect +her too. I repeat, she's an honest and honourable person, and all your +disapproval is simply silly... [Pause] In the second place, you seem to +be annoyed because I am not a professor, and am not engaged in study. +But I work for the zemstvo, I am a member of the district council, and +I consider my service as worthy and as high as the service of science. +I am a member of the district council, and I am proud of it, if you want +to know. [Pause] In the third place, I have still this to say... that I +have mortgaged the house without obtaining your permission.... For that +I am to blame, and ask to be forgiven. My debts led me into doing it... +thirty-five thousand... I do not play at cards any more, I stopped long +ago, but the chief thing I have to say in my defence is that you girls +receive a pension, and I don't... my wages, so to speak.... [Pause.] + +KULIGIN. [At the door] Is Masha there? [Excitedly] Where is she? It's +queer.... [Exit.] + +ANDREY. They don't hear. Natasha is a splendid, honest person. [Walks +about in silence, then stops] When I married I thought we should be +happy... all of us.... But, my God.... [Weeps] My dear, dear sisters, +don't believe me, don't believe me.... [Exit.] + +[Fire-alarm. The stage is clear.] + +IRINA. [behind her screen] Olga, who's knocking on the floor? + +OLGA. It's doctor Ivan Romanovitch. He's drunk. + +IRINA. What a restless night! [Pause] Olga! [Looks out] Did you hear? +They are taking the brigade away from us; it's going to be transferred +to some place far away. + +OLGA. It's only a rumour. + +IRINA. Then we shall be left alone.... Olga! + +OLGA. Well? + +IRINA. My dear, darling sister, I esteem, I highly value the Baron, he's +a splendid man; I'll marry him, I'll consent, only let's go to Moscow! +I implore you, let's go! There's nothing better than Moscow on earth! +Let's go, Olga, let's go! + +Curtain + + + + +ACT IV + +[The old garden at the house of the PROSOROVS. There is a long avenue +of firs, at the end of which the river can be seen. There is a forest +on the far side of the river. On the right is the terrace of the house: +bottles and tumblers are on a table here; it is evident that champagne +has just been drunk. It is midday. Every now and again passers-by walk +across the garden, from the road to the river; five soldiers go past +rapidly. CHEBUTIKIN, in a comfortable frame of mind which does not +desert him throughout the act, sits in an armchair in the garden, +waiting to be called. He wears a peaked cap and has a stick. IRINA, +KULIGIN with a cross hanging from his neck and without his moustaches, +and TUZENBACH are standing on the terrace seeing off FEDOTIK and RODE, +who are coming down into the garden; both officers are in service +uniform.] + +TUZENBACH. [Exchanges kisses with FEDOTIK] You're a good sort, we got on +so well together. [Exchanges kisses with RODE] Once again.... Good-bye, +old man! + +IRINA. Au revoir! + +FEDOTIK. It isn't au revoir, it's good-bye; we'll never meet again! + +KULIGIN. Who knows! [Wipes his eyes; smiles] Here I've started crying! + +IRINA. We'll meet again sometime. + +FEDOTIK. After ten years--or fifteen? We'll hardly know one another +then; we'll say, "How do you do?" coldly.... [Takes a snapshot] Keep +still.... Once more, for the last time. + +RODE. [Embracing TUZENBACH] We shan't meet again.... [Kisses IRINA'S +hand] Thank you for everything, for everything! + +FEDOTIK. [Grieved] Don't be in such a hurry! + +TUZENBACH. We shall meet again, if God wills it. Write to us. Be sure to +write. + +RODE. [Looking round the garden] Good-bye, trees! [Shouts] Yo-ho! +[Pause] Good-bye, echo! + +KULIGIN. Best wishes. Go and get yourselves wives there in Poland.... +Your Polish wife will clasp you and call you "kochanku!" [Note: +Darling.] [Laughs.] + +FEDOTIK. [Looking at the time] There's less than an hour left. Soleni +is the only one of our battery who is going on the barge; the rest of +us are going with the main body. Three batteries are leaving to-day, +another three to-morrow and then the town will be quiet and peaceful. + +TUZENBACH. And terribly dull. + +RODE. And where is Maria Sergeyevna? + +KULIGIN. Masha is in the garden. + +FEDOTIK. We'd like to say good-bye to her. + +RODE. Good-bye, I must go, or else I'll start weeping.... [Quickly +embraces KULIGIN and TUZENBACH, and kisses IRINA'S hand] We've been so +happy here.... + +FEDOTIK. [To KULIGIN] Here's a keepsake for you... a note-book with a +pencil.... We'll go to the river from here.... [They go aside and both +look round.] + +RODE. [Shouts] Yo-ho! + +KULIGIN. [Shouts] Good-bye! + +[At the back of the stage FEDOTIK and RODE meet MASHA; they say good-bye +and go out with her.] + +IRINA. They've gone.... [Sits on the bottom step of the terrace.] + +CHEBUTIKIN. And they forgot to say good-bye to me. + +IRINA. But why is that? + +CHEBUTIKIN. I just forgot, somehow. Though I'll soon see them again, I'm +going to-morrow. Yes... just one day left. I shall be retired in a year, +then I'll come here again, and finish my life near you. I've only one +year before I get my pension.... [Puts one newspaper into his pocket and +takes another out] I'll come here to you and change my life radically... +I'll be so quiet... so agree... agreeable, respectable.... + +IRINA. Yes, you ought to change your life, dear man, somehow or other. + +CHEBUTIKIN. Yes, I feel it. [Sings softly.] "Tarara-boom-deay...." + +KULIGIN. We won't reform Ivan Romanovitch! We won't reform him! + +CHEBUTIKIN. If only I was apprenticed to you! Then I'd reform. + +IRINA. Feodor has shaved his moustache! I can't bear to look at him. + +KULIGIN. Well, what about it? + +CHEBUTIKIN. I could tell you what your face looks like now, but it +wouldn't be polite. + +KULIGIN. Well! It's the custom, it's modus vivendi. Our Director is +clean-shaven, and so I too, when I received my inspectorship, had +my moustaches removed. Nobody likes it, but it's all one to me. I'm +satisfied. Whether I've got moustaches or not, I'm satisfied.... [Sits.] + +[At the back of the stage ANDREY is wheeling a perambulator containing a +sleeping infant.] + +IRINA. Ivan Romanovitch, be a darling. I'm awfully worried. You were out +on the boulevard last night; tell me, what happened? + +CHEBUTIKIN. What happened? Nothing. Quite a trifling matter. [Reads +paper] Of no importance! + +KULIGIN. They say that Soleni and the Baron met yesterday on the +boulevard near the theatre.... + +TUZENBACH. Stop! What right... [Waves his hand and goes into the house.] + +KULIGIN. Near the theatre... Soleni started behaving offensively to the +Baron, who lost his temper and said something nasty.... + +CHEBUTIKIN. I don't know. It's all bunkum. + +KULIGIN. At some seminary or other a master wrote "bunkum" on an essay, +and the student couldn't make the letters out--thought it was a Latin +word "luckum." [Laughs] Awfully funny, that. They say that Soleni is in +love with Irina and hates the Baron.... That's quite natural. Irina is +a very nice girl. She's even like Masha, she's so thoughtful.... Only, +Irina your character is gentler. Though Masha's character, too, is a +very good one. I'm very fond of Masha. [Shouts of "Yo-ho!" are heard +behind the stage.] + +IRINA. [Shudders] Everything seems to frighten me today. [Pause] I've +got everything ready, and I send my things off after dinner. The +Baron and I will be married to-morrow, and to-morrow we go away to +the brickworks, and the next day I go to the school, and the new life +begins. God will help me! When I took my examination for the teacher's +post, I actually wept for joy and gratitude.... [Pause] The cart will be +here in a minute for my things.... + +KULIGIN. Somehow or other, all this doesn't seem at all serious. As if +it was all ideas, and nothing really serious. Still, with all my soul I +wish you happiness. + +CHEBUTIKIN. [With deep feeling] My splendid... my dear, precious +girl.... You've gone on far ahead, I won't catch up with you. I'm left +behind like a migrant bird grown old, and unable to fly. Fly, my +dear, fly, and God be with you! [Pause] It's a pity you shaved your +moustaches, Feodor Ilitch. + +KULIGIN. Oh, drop it! [Sighs] To-day the soldiers will be gone, and +everything will go on as in the old days. Say what you will, Masha is +a good, honest woman. I love her very much, and thank my fate for her. +People have such different fates. There's a Kosirev who works in the +excise department here. He was at school with me; he was expelled +from the fifth class of the High School for being entirely unable to +understand _ut consecutivum_. He's awfully hard up now and in very +poor health, and when I meet him I say to him, "How do you do, _ut +consecutivum_." "Yes," he says, "precisely _consecutivum_..." and +coughs. But I've been successful all my life, I'm happy, and I even have +a Stanislaus Cross, of the second class, and now I myself teach others +that _ut consecutivum_. Of course, I'm a clever man, much cleverer than +many, but happiness doesn't only lie in that.... + +["The Maiden's Prayer" is being played on the piano in the house.] + +IRINA. To-morrow night I shan't hear that "Maiden's Prayer" any more, +and I shan't be meeting Protopopov.... [Pause] Protopopov is sitting +there in the drawing-room; and he came to-day... + +KULIGIN. Hasn't the head-mistress come yet? + +IRINA. No. She has been sent for. If you only knew how difficult it is +for me to live alone, without Olga.... She lives at the High School; +she, a head-mistress, busy all day with her affairs and I'm alone, +bored, with nothing to do, and hate the room I live in.... I've made +up my mind: if I can't live in Moscow, then it must come to this. It's +fate. It can't be helped. It's all the will of God, that's the truth. +Nicolai Lvovitch made me a proposal.... Well? I thought it over and made +up my mind. He's a good man... it's quite remarkable how good he is.... +And suddenly my soul put out wings, I became happy, and light-hearted, +and once again the desire for work, work, came over me.... Only +something happened yesterday, some secret dread has been hanging over +me.... + +CHEBUTIKIN. Luckum. Rubbish. + +NATASHA. [At the window] The head-mistress. + +KULIGIN. The head-mistress has come. Let's go. [Exit with IRINA into the +house.] + +CHEBUTIKIN. "It is my washing day.... Tara-ra... boom-deay." + +[MASHA approaches, ANDREY is wheeling a perambulator at the back.] + +MASHA. Here you are, sitting here, doing nothing. + +CHEBUTIKIN. What then? + +MASHA. [Sits] Nothing.... [Pause] Did you love my mother? + +CHEBUTIKIN. Very much. + +MASHA. And did she love you? + +CHEBUTIKIN. [After a pause] I don't remember that. + +MASHA. Is my man here? When our cook Martha used to ask about her +gendarme, she used to say my man. Is he here? + +CHEBUTIKIN. Not yet. + +MASHA. When you take your happiness in little bits, in snatches, and +then lose it, as I have done, you gradually get coarser, more bitter. +[Points to her bosom] I'm boiling in here.... [Looks at ANDREY with the +perambulator] There's our brother Andrey.... All our hopes in him have +gone. There was once a great bell, a thousand persons were hoisting it, +much money and labour had been spent on it, when it suddenly fell +and was broken. Suddenly, for no particular reason.... Andrey is like +that.... + +ANDREY. When are they going to stop making such a noise in the house? +It's awful. + +CHEBUTIKIN. They won't be much longer. [Looks at his watch] My watch is +very old-fashioned, it strikes the hours.... [Winds the watch and makes +it strike] The first, second, and fifth batteries are to leave at one +o'clock precisely. [Pause] And I go to-morrow. + +ANDREY. For good? + +CHEBUTIKIN. I don't know. Perhaps I'll return in a year. The devil +only knows... it's all one.... [Somewhere a harp and violin are being +played.] + +ANDREY. The town will grow empty. It will be as if they put a cover over +it. [Pause] Something happened yesterday by the theatre. The whole town +knows of it, but I don't. + +CHEBUTIKIN. Nothing. A silly little affair. Soleni started irritating +the Baron, who lost his temper and insulted him, and so at last Soleni +had to challenge him. [Looks at his watch] It's about time, I think.... +At half-past twelve, in the public wood, that one you can see from here +across the river.... Piff-paff. [Laughs] Soleni thinks he's Lermontov, +and even writes verses. That's all very well, but this is his third +duel. + +MASHA. Whose? + +CHEBUTIKIN. Soleni's. + +MASHA. And the Baron? + +CHEBUTIKIN. What about the Baron? [Pause.] + +MASHA. Everything's all muddled up in my head.... But I say it ought not +to be allowed. He might wound the Baron or even kill him. + +CHEBUTIKIN. The Baron is a good man, but one Baron more or less--what +difference does it make? It's all the same! [Beyond the garden somebody +shouts "Co-ee! Hallo! "] You wait. That's Skvortsov shouting; one of the +seconds. He's in a boat. [Pause.] + +ANDREY. In my opinion it's simply immoral to fight in a duel, or to be +present, even in the quality of a doctor. + +CHEBUTIKIN. It only seems so.... We don't exist, there's nothing on +earth, we don't really live, it only seems that we live. Does it matter, +anyway! + +MASHA. You talk and talk the whole day long. [Going] You live in +a climate like this, where it might snow any moment, and there you +talk.... [Stops] I won't go into the house, I can't go there.... Tell me +when Vershinin comes.... [Goes along the avenue] The migrant birds are +already on the wing.... [Looks up] Swans or geese.... My dear, happy +things.... [Exit.] + +ANDREY. Our house will be empty. The officers will go away, you are +going, my sister is getting married, and I alone will remain in the +house. + +CHEBUTIKIN. And your wife? + +[FERAPONT enters with some documents.] + +ANDREY. A wife's a wife. She's honest, well-bred, yes; and kind, but +with all that there is still something about her that degenerates her +into a petty, blind, even in some respects misshapen animal. In any +case, she isn't a man. I tell you as a friend, as the only man to whom I +can lay bare my soul. I love Natasha, it's true, but sometimes she seems +extraordinarily vulgar, and then I lose myself and can't understand why +I love her so much, or, at any rate, used to love her.... + +CHEBUTIKIN. [Rises] I'm going away to-morrow, old chap, and perhaps +we'll never meet again, so here's my advice. Put on your cap, take a +stick in your hand, go... go on and on, without looking round. And the +farther you go, the better. + +[SOLENI goes across the back of the stage with two officers; he catches +sight of CHEBUTIKIN, and turns to him, the officers go on.] + +SOLENI. Doctor, it's time. It's half-past twelve already. [Shakes hands +with ANDREY.] + +CHEBUTIKIN. Half a minute. I'm tired of the lot of you. [To ANDREY] If +anybody asks for me, say I'll be back soon.... [Sighs] Oh, oh, oh! + +SOLENI. "He didn't have the time to sigh. The bear sat on him heavily." +[Goes up to him] What are you groaning about, old man? + +CHEBUTIKIN. Stop it! + +SOLENI. How's your health? + +CHEBUTIKIN. [Angry] Mind your own business. + +SOLENI. The old man is unnecessarily excited. I won't go far, I'll only +just bring him down like a snipe. [Takes out his scent-bottle and scents +his hands] I've poured out a whole bottle of scent to-day and they still +smell... of a dead body. [Pause] Yes.... You remember the poem + + "But he, the rebel seeks the storm, + As if the storm will bring him rest..."? + +CHEBUTIKIN. Yes. + + "He didn't have the time to sigh, + The bear sat on him heavily." + +[Exit with SOLENI.] + +[Shouts are heard. ANDREY and FERAPONT come in.] + +FERAPONT. Documents to sign.... + +ANDREY. [Irritated]. Go away! Leave me! Please! [Goes away with the +perambulator.] + +FERAPONT. That's what documents are for, to be signed. [Retires to back +of stage.] + +[Enter IRINA, with TUZENBACH in a straw hat; KULIGIN walks across the +stage, shouting "Co-ee, Masha, co-ee!"] + +TUZENBACH. He seems to be the only man in the town who is glad that the +soldiers are going. + +IRINA. One can understand that. [Pause] The town will be empty. + +TUZENBACH. My dear, I shall return soon. + +IRINA. Where are you going? + +TUZENBACH. I must go into the town and then... see the others off. + +IRINA. It's not true... Nicolai, why are you so absentminded to-day? +[Pause] What took place by the theatre yesterday? + +TUZENBACH. [Making a movement of impatience] In an hour's time I shall +return and be with you again. [Kisses her hands] My darling... [Looking +her closely in the face] it's five years now since I fell in love with +you, and still I can't get used to it, and you seem to me to grow more +and more beautiful. What lovely, wonderful hair! What eyes! I'm going to +take you away to-morrow. We shall work, we shall be rich, my dreams will +come true. You will be happy. There's only one thing, one thing only: +you don't love me! + +IRINA. It isn't in my power! I shall be your wife, I shall be true to +you, and obedient to you, but I can't love you. What can I do! [Cries] I +have never been in love in my life. Oh, I used to think so much of love, +I have been thinking about it for so long by day and by night, but +my soul is like an expensive piano which is locked and the key lost. +[Pause] You seem so unhappy. + +TUZENBACH. I didn't sleep at night. There is nothing in my life so awful +as to be able to frighten me, only that lost key torments my soul and +does not let me sleep. Say something to me [Pause] say something to +me.... + +IRINA. What can I say, what? + +TUZENBACH. Anything. + +IRINA. Don't! don't! [Pause.] + +TUZENBACH. It is curious how silly trivial little things, sometimes +for no apparent reason, become significant. At first you laugh at these +things, you think they are of no importance, you go on and you feel that +you haven't got the strength to stop yourself. Oh don't let's talk about +it! I am happy. It is as if for the first time in my life I see these +firs, maples, beeches, and they all look at me inquisitively and wait. +What beautiful trees and how beautiful, when one comes to think of it, +life must be near them! [A shout of Co-ee! in the distance] It's time +I went.... There's a tree which has dried up but it still sways in the +breeze with the others. And so it seems to me that if I die, I shall +still take part in life in one way or another. Good-bye, dear.... +[Kisses her hands] The papers which you gave me are on my table under +the calendar. + +IRINA. I am coming with you. + +TUZENBACH. [Nervously] No, no! [He goes quickly and stops in the avenue] +Irina! + +IRINA. What is it? + +TUZENBACH. [Not knowing what to say] I haven't had any coffee to-day. +Tell them to make me some.... [He goes out quickly.] + +[IRINA stands deep in thought. Then she goes to the back of the stage +and sits on a swing. ANDREY comes in with the perambulator and FERAPONT +also appears.] + +FERAPONT. Andrey Sergeyevitch, it isn't as if the documents were mine, +they are the government's. I didn't make them. + +ANDREY. Oh, what has become of my past and where is it? I used to be +young, happy, clever, I used to be able to think and frame clever ideas, +the present and the future seemed to me full of hope. Why do we, almost +before we have begun to live, become dull, grey, uninteresting, lazy, +apathetic, useless, unhappy.... This town has already been in existence +for two hundred years and it has a hundred thousand inhabitants, not one +of whom is in any way different from the others. There has never been, +now or at any other time, a single leader of men, a single scholar, an +artist, a man of even the slightest eminence who might arouse envy or a +passionate desire to be imitated. They only eat, drink, sleep, and then +they die... more people are born and also eat, drink, sleep, and so +as not to go silly from boredom, they try to make life many-sided +with their beastly backbiting, vodka, cards, and litigation. The wives +deceive their husbands, and the husbands lie, and pretend they see +nothing and hear nothing, and the evil influence irresistibly oppresses +the children and the divine spark in them is extinguished, and they +become just as pitiful corpses and just as much like one another as +their fathers and mothers.... [Angrily to FERAPONT] What do you want? + +FERAPONT. What? Documents want signing. + +ANDREY. I'm tired of you. + +FERAPONT. [Handing him papers] The hall-porter from the law courts was +saying just now that in the winter there were two hundred degrees of +frost in Petersburg. + +ANDREY. The present is beastly, but when I think of the future, how good +it is! I feel so light, so free; there is a light in the distance, I see +freedom. I see myself and my children freeing ourselves from vanities, +from kvass, from goose baked with cabbage, from after-dinner naps, from +base idleness.... + +FERAPONT. He was saying that two thousand people were frozen to death. +The people were frightened, he said. In Petersburg or Moscow, I don't +remember which. + +ANDREY. [Overcome by a tender emotion] My dear sisters, my beautiful +sisters! [Crying] Masha, my sister.... + +NATASHA. [At the window] Who's talking so loudly out here? Is that you, +Andrey? You'll wake little Sophie. _Il ne faut pas faire du bruit, la +Sophie est dormée deja. Vous êtes un ours._ [Angrily] If you want +to talk, then give the perambulator and the baby to somebody else. +Ferapont, take the perambulator! + +FERAPONT. Yes'm. [Takes the perambulator.] + +ANDREY. [Confused] I'm speaking quietly. + +NATASHA. [At the window, nursing her boy] Bobby! Naughty Bobby! Bad +little Bobby! + +ANDREY. [Looking through the papers] All right, I'll look them over and +sign if necessary, and you can take them back to the offices.... + +[Goes into house reading papers; FERAPONT takes the perambulator to the +back of the garden.] + +NATASHA. [At the window] Bobby, what's your mother's name? Dear, dear! +And who's this? That's Aunt Olga. Say to your aunt, "How do you do, +Olga!" + +[Two wandering musicians, a man and a girl, are playing on a violin and +a harp. VERSHININ, OLGA, and ANFISA come out of the house and listen for +a minute in silence; IRINA comes up to them.] + +OLGA. Our garden might be a public thoroughfare, from the way people +walk and ride across it. Nurse, give those musicians something! + +ANFISA. [Gives money to the musicians] Go away with God's blessing on +you. [The musicians bow and go away] A bitter sort of people. You don't +play on a full stomach. [To IRINA] How do you do, Arisha! [Kisses her] +Well, little girl, here I am, still alive! Still alive! In the High +School, together with little Olga, in her official apartments... so the +Lord has appointed for my old age. Sinful woman that I am, I've never +lived like that in my life before.... A large flat, government property, +and I've a whole room and bed to myself. All government property. I wake +up at nights and, oh God, and Holy Mother, there isn't a happier person +than I! + +VERSHININ. [Looks at his watch] We are going soon, Olga Sergeyevna. It's +time for me to go. [Pause] I wish you every... every.... Where's Maria +Sergeyevna? + +IRINA. She's somewhere in the garden. I'll go and look for her. + +VERSHININ. If you'll be so kind. I haven't time. + +ANFISA. I'll go and look, too. [Shouts] Little Masha, co-ee! [Goes out +with IRINA down into the garden] Co-ee, co-ee! + +VERSHININ. Everything comes to an end. And so we, too, must part. [Looks +at his watch] The town gave us a sort of farewell breakfast, we had +champagne to drink and the mayor made a speech, and I ate and listened, +but my soul was here all the time.... [Looks round the garden] I'm so +used to you now. + +OLGA. Shall we ever meet again? + +VERSHININ. Probably not. [Pause] My wife and both my daughters will stay +here another two months. If anything happens, or if anything has to be +done... + +OLGA. Yes, yes, of course. You need not worry. [Pause] To-morrow there +won't be a single soldier left in the town, it will all be a memory, +and, of course, for us a new life will begin.... [Pause] None of our +plans are coming right. I didn't want to be a head-mistress, but they +made me one, all the same. It means there's no chance of Moscow.... + +VERSHININ. Well... thank you for everything. Forgive me if I've... I've +said such an awful lot--forgive me for that too, don't think badly of +me. + +OLGA. [Wipes her eyes] Why isn't Masha coming... + +VERSHININ. What else can I say in parting? Can I philosophize about +anything? [Laughs] Life is heavy. To many of us it seems dull and +hopeless, but still, it must be acknowledged that it is getting lighter +and clearer, and it seems that the time is not far off when it will be +quite clear. [Looks at his watch] It's time I went! Mankind used to +be absorbed in wars, and all its existence was filled with campaigns, +attacks, defeats, now we've outlived all that, leaving after us a great +waste place, which there is nothing to fill with at present; but mankind +is looking for something, and will certainly find it. Oh, if it only +happened more quickly. [Pause] If only education could be added to +industry, and industry to education. [Looks at his watch] It's time I +went.... + +OLGA. Here she comes. + +[Enter MASHA.] + +VERSHININ. I came to say good-bye.... + +[OLGA steps aside a little, so as not to be in their way.] + +MASHA. [Looking him in the face] Good-bye. [Prolonged kiss.] + +OLGA. Don't, don't. [MASHA is crying bitterly] + +VERSHININ. Write to me.... Don't forget! Let me go.... It's time. Take +her, Olga Sergeyevna... it's time... I'm late... + +[He kisses OLGA'S hand in evident emotion, then embraces MASHA once more +and goes out quickly.] + +OLGA. Don't, Masha! Stop, dear.... [KULIGIN enters.] + +KULIGIN. [Confused] Never mind, let her cry, let her.... My dear Masha, +my good Masha.... You're my wife, and I'm happy, whatever happens... I'm +not complaining, I don't reproach you at all.... Olga is a witness to +it. Let's begin to live again as we used to, and not by a single word, +or hint... + +MASHA. [Restraining her sobs] "There stands a green oak by the sea, + And a chain of bright gold is around it.... + And a chain of bright gold is around it...." + +I'm going off my head... "There stands... a green oak... by the sea."... + +OLGA. Don't, Masha, don't... give her some water.... + +MASHA. I'm not crying any more.... + +KULIGIN. She's not crying any more... she's a good... [A shot is heard +from a distance.] + +MASHA. "There stands a green oak by the sea, + And a chain of bright gold is around it... + An oak of green gold...." + +I'm mixing it up.... [Drinks some water] Life is dull... I don't want +anything more now... I'll be all right in a moment.... It doesn't +matter.... What do those lines mean? Why do they run in my head? My +thoughts are all tangled. + +[IRINA enters.] + +OLGA. Be quiet, Masha. There's a good girl.... Let's go in. + +MASHA. [Angrily] I shan't go in there. [Sobs, but controls herself at +once] I'm not going to go into the house, I won't go.... + +IRINA. Let's sit here together and say nothing. I'm going away +to-morrow.... [Pause.] + +KULIGIN. Yesterday I took away these whiskers and this beard from a boy +in the third class.... [He puts on the whiskers and beard] Don't I look +like the German master.... [Laughs] Don't I? The boys are amusing. + +MASHA. You really do look like that German of yours. + +OLGA. [Laughs] Yes. [MASHA weeps.] + +IRINA. Don't, Masha! + +KULIGIN. It's a very good likeness.... + +[Enter NATASHA.] + +NATASHA. [To the maid] What? Mihail Ivanitch Protopopov will sit with +little Sophie, and Andrey Sergeyevitch can take little Bobby out. +Children are such a bother.... [To IRINA] Irina, it's such a pity you're +going away to-morrow. Do stop just another week. [Sees KULIGIN and +screams; he laughs and takes off his beard and whiskers] How you +frightened me! [To IRINA] I've grown used to you and do you think it +will be easy for me to part from you? I'm going to have Andrey and his +violin put into your room--let him fiddle away in there!--and we'll put +little Sophie into his room. The beautiful, lovely child! What a little +girlie! To-day she looked at me with such pretty eyes and said "Mamma!" + +KULIGIN. A beautiful child, it's quite true. + +NATASHA. That means I shall have the place to myself to-morrow. [Sighs] +In the first place I shall have that avenue of fir-trees cut down, then +that maple. It's so ugly at nights.... [To IRINA] That belt doesn't suit +you at all, dear.... It's an error of taste. And I'll give orders to +have lots and lots of little flowers planted here, and they'll smell.... +[Severely] Why is there a fork lying about here on the seat? [Going +towards the house, to the maid] Why is there a fork lying about here on +the seat, I say? [Shouts] Don't you dare to answer me! + +KULIGIN. Temper! temper! [A march is played off; they all listen.] + +OLGA. They're going. + +[CHEBUTIKIN comes in.] + +MASHA. They're going. Well, well.... Bon voyage! [To her husband] We +must be going home.... Where's my coat and hat? + +KULIGIN. I took them in... I'll bring them, in a moment. + +OLGA. Yes, now we can all go home. It's time. + +CHEBUTIKIN. Olga Sergeyevna! + +OLGA. What is it? [Pause] What is it? + +CHEBUTIKIN. Nothing... I don't know how to tell you.... [Whispers to +her.] + +OLGA. [Frightened] It can't be true! + +CHEBUTIKIN. Yes... such a story... I'm tired out, exhausted, I won't say +any more.... [Sadly] Still, it's all the same! + +MASHA. What's happened? + +OLGA. [Embraces IRINA] This is a terrible day... I don't know how to +tell you, dear.... + +IRINA. What is it? Tell me quickly, what is it? For God's sake! [Cries.] + +CHEBUTIKIN. The Baron was killed in the duel just now. + +IRINA. [Cries softly] I knew it, I knew it.... + +CHEBUTIKIN. [Sits on a bench at the back of the stage] I'm tired.... +[Takes a paper from his pocket] Let 'em cry.... [Sings softly] +"Tarara-boom-deay, it is my washing day...." Isn't it all the same! + +[The three sisters are standing, pressing against one another.] + +MASHA. Oh, how the music plays! They are leaving us, one has quite left +us, quite and for ever. We remain alone, to begin our life over again. +We must live... we must live.... + +IRINA. [Puts her head on OLGA's bosom] There will come a time when +everybody will know why, for what purpose, there is all this suffering, +and there will be no more mysteries. But now we must live... we must +work, just work! To-morrow, I'll go away alone, and I'll teach and give +my whole life to those who, perhaps, need it. It's autumn now, soon it +will be winter, the snow will cover everything, and I shall be working, +working.... + +OLGA. [Embraces both her sisters] The bands are playing so gaily, so +bravely, and one does so want to live! Oh, my God! Time will pass on, +and we shall depart for ever, we shall be forgotten; they will +forget our faces, voices, and even how many there were of us, but +our sufferings will turn into joy for those who will live after us, +happiness and peace will reign on earth, and people will remember with +kindly words, and bless those who are living now. Oh dear sisters, our +life is not yet at an end. Let us live. The music is so gay, so joyful, +and, it seems that in a little while we shall know why we are living, +why we are suffering.... If we could only know, if we could only know! + +[The music has been growing softer and softer; KULIGIN, smiling happily, +brings out the hat and coat; ANDREY wheels out the perambulator in which +BOBBY is sitting.] + +CHEBUTIKIN. [Sings softly] "Tara... ra-boom-deay.... It is my +washing-day."... [Reads a paper] It's all the same! It's all the same! + +OLGA. If only we could know, if only we could know! + +Curtain. + + + + +THE CHERRY ORCHARD + +A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS + + +CHARACTERS + + LUBOV ANDREYEVNA RANEVSKY (Mme. RANEVSKY), a landowner + ANYA, her daughter, aged seventeen + VARYA (BARBARA), her adopted daughter, aged twenty-seven + LEONID ANDREYEVITCH GAEV, Mme. Ranevsky's brother + ERMOLAI ALEXEYEVITCH LOPAKHIN, a merchant + PETER SERGEYEVITCH TROFIMOV, a student + BORIS BORISOVITCH SIMEONOV-PISCHIN, a landowner + CHARLOTTA IVANOVNA, a governess + SIMEON PANTELEYEVITCH EPIKHODOV, a clerk + DUNYASHA (AVDOTYA FEDOROVNA), a maidservant + FIERS, an old footman, aged eighty-seven + YASHA, a young footman + A TRAMP + A STATION-MASTER + POST-OFFICE CLERK + GUESTS + A SERVANT + +The action takes place on Mme. RANEVSKY'S estate + + + + +ACT ONE + + +[A room which is still called the nursery. One of the doors leads into +ANYA'S room. It is close on sunrise. It is May. The cherry-trees are +in flower but it is chilly in the garden. There is an early frost. +The windows of the room are shut. DUNYASHA comes in with a candle, and +LOPAKHIN with a book in his hand.] + +LOPAKHIN. The train's arrived, thank God. What's the time? + +DUNYASHA. It will soon be two. [Blows out candle] It is light already. + +LOPAKHIN. How much was the train late? Two hours at least. [Yawns and +stretches himself] I have made a rotten mess of it! I came here on +purpose to meet them at the station, and then overslept myself... in my +chair. It's a pity. I wish you'd wakened me. + +DUNYASHA. I thought you'd gone away. [Listening] I think I hear them +coming. + +LOPAKHIN. [Listens] No.... They've got to collect their luggage and so +on.... [Pause] Lubov Andreyevna has been living abroad for five years; +I don't know what she'll be like now.... She's a good sort--an easy, +simple person. I remember when I was a boy of fifteen, my father, who +is dead--he used to keep a shop in the village here--hit me on the face +with his fist, and my nose bled.... We had gone into the yard together +for something or other, and he was a little drunk. Lubov Andreyevna, as +I remember her now, was still young, and very thin, and she took me to +the washstand here in this very room, the nursery. She said, "Don't +cry, little man, it'll be all right in time for your wedding." [Pause] +"Little man".... My father was a peasant, it's true, but here I am in a +white waistcoat and yellow shoes... a pearl out of an oyster. I'm rich +now, with lots of money, but just think about it and examine me, and +you'll find I'm still a peasant down to the marrow of my bones. [Turns +over the pages of his book] Here I've been reading this book, but I +understood nothing. I read and fell asleep. [Pause.] + +DUNYASHA. The dogs didn't sleep all night; they know that they're +coming. + +LOPAKHIN. What's up with you, Dunyasha...? + +DUNYASHA. My hands are shaking. I shall faint. + +LOPAKHIN. You're too sensitive, Dunyasha. You dress just like a lady, +and you do your hair like one too. You oughtn't. You should know your +place. + +EPIKHODOV. [Enters with a bouquet. He wears a short jacket and +brilliantly polished boots which squeak audibly. He drops the bouquet as +he enters, then picks it up] The gardener sent these; says they're to go +into the dining-room. [Gives the bouquet to DUNYASHA.] + +LOPAKHIN. And you'll bring me some kvass. + +DUNYASHA. Very well. [Exit.] + +EPIKHODOV. There's a frost this morning--three degrees, and the +cherry-trees are all in flower. I can't approve of our climate. [Sighs] +I can't. Our climate is indisposed to favour us even this once. And, +Ermolai Alexeyevitch, allow me to say to you, in addition, that I bought +myself some boots two days ago, and I beg to assure you that they squeak +in a perfectly unbearable manner. What shall I put on them? + +LOPAKHIN. Go away. You bore me. + +EPIKHODOV. Some misfortune happens to me every day. But I don't +complain; I'm used to it, and I can smile. [DUNYASHA comes in and +brings LOPAKHIN some kvass] I shall go. [Knocks over a chair] There.... +[Triumphantly] There, you see, if I may use the word, what circumstances +I am in, so to speak. It is even simply marvellous. [Exit.] + +DUNYASHA. I may confess to you, Ermolai Alexeyevitch, that Epikhodov has +proposed to me. + +LOPAKHIN. Ah! + +DUNYASHA. I don't know what to do about it. He's a nice young man, but +every now and again, when he begins talking, you can't understand a word +he's saying. I think I like him. He's madly in love with me. He's an +unlucky man; every day something happens. We tease him about it. They +call him "Two-and-twenty troubles." + +LOPAKHIN. [Listens] There they come, I think. + +DUNYASHA. They're coming! What's the matter with me? I'm cold all over. + +LOPAKHIN. There they are, right enough. Let's go and meet them. Will she +know me? We haven't seen each other for five years. + +DUNYASHA. [Excited] I shall faint in a minute.... Oh, I'm fainting! + +[Two carriages are heard driving up to the house. LOPAKHIN and DUNYASHA +quickly go out. The stage is empty. A noise begins in the next room. +FIERS, leaning on a stick, walks quickly across the stage; he has just +been to meet LUBOV ANDREYEVNA. He wears an old-fashioned livery and a +tall hat. He is saying something to himself, but not a word of it can be +made out. The noise behind the stage gets louder and louder. A voice is +heard: "Let's go in there." Enter LUBOV ANDREYEVNA, ANYA, and CHARLOTTA +IVANOVNA with a little dog on a chain, and all dressed in travelling +clothes, VARYA in a long coat and with a kerchief on her head. GAEV, +SIMEONOV-PISCHIN, LOPAKHIN, DUNYASHA with a parcel and an umbrella, and +a servant with luggage--all cross the room.] + +ANYA. Let's come through here. Do you remember what this room is, +mother? + +LUBOV. [Joyfully, through her tears] The nursery! + +VARYA. How cold it is! My hands are quite numb. [To LUBOV ANDREYEVNA] +Your rooms, the white one and the violet one, are just as they used to +be, mother. + +LUBOV. My dear nursery, oh, you beautiful room.... I used to sleep +here when I was a baby. [Weeps] And here I am like a little girl again. +[Kisses her brother, VARYA, then her brother again] And Varya is just as +she used to be, just like a nun. And I knew Dunyasha. [Kisses her.] + +GAEV. The train was two hours late. There now; how's that for +punctuality? + +CHARLOTTA. [To PISCHIN] My dog eats nuts too. + +PISCHIN. [Astonished] To think of that, now! + +[All go out except ANYA and DUNYASHA.] + +DUNYASHA. We did have to wait for you! + +[Takes off ANYA'S cloak and hat.] + +ANYA. I didn't get any sleep for four nights on the journey.... I'm +awfully cold. + +DUNYASHA. You went away during Lent, when it was snowing and frosty, but +now? Darling! [Laughs and kisses her] We did have to wait for you, my +joy, my pet.... I must tell you at once, I can't bear to wait a minute. + +ANYA. [Tired] Something else now...? + +DUNYASHA. The clerk, Epikhodov, proposed to me after Easter. + +ANYA. Always the same.... [Puts her hair straight] I've lost all my +hairpins.... [She is very tired, and even staggers as she walks.] + +DUNYASHA. I don't know what to think about it. He loves me, he loves me +so much! + +ANYA. [Looks into her room; in a gentle voice] My room, my windows, as +if I'd never gone away. I'm at home! To-morrow morning I'll get up and +have a run in the garden....Oh, if I could only get to sleep! I didn't +sleep the whole journey, I was so bothered. + +DUNYASHA. Peter Sergeyevitch came two days ago. + +ANYA. [Joyfully] Peter! + +DUNYASHA. He sleeps in the bath-house, he lives there. He said he was +afraid he'd be in the way. [Looks at her pocket-watch] I ought to wake +him, but Barbara Mihailovna told me not to. "Don't wake him," she said. + +[Enter VARYA, a bunch of keys on her belt.] + +VARYA. Dunyasha, some coffee, quick. Mother wants some. + +DUNYASHA. This minute. [Exit.] + +VARYA. Well, you've come, glory be to God. Home again. [Caressing her] +My darling is back again! My pretty one is back again! + +ANYA. I did have an awful time, I tell you. + +VARYA. I can just imagine it! + +ANYA. I went away in Holy Week; it was very cold then. Charlotta talked +the whole way and would go on performing her tricks. Why did you tie +Charlotta on to me? + +VARYA. You couldn't go alone, darling, at seventeen! + +ANYA. We went to Paris; it's cold there and snowing. I talk French +perfectly horribly. My mother lives on the fifth floor. I go to her, and +find her there with various Frenchmen, women, an old abbé with a book, +and everything in tobacco smoke and with no comfort at all. I suddenly +became very sorry for mother--so sorry that I took her head in my arms +and hugged her and wouldn't let her go. Then mother started hugging me +and crying.... + +VARYA. [Weeping] Don't say any more, don't say any more.... + +ANYA. She's already sold her villa near Mentone; she's nothing left, +nothing. And I haven't a copeck left either; we only just managed to get +here. And mother won't understand! We had dinner at a station; she asked +for all the expensive things, and tipped the waiters one rouble each. +And Charlotta too. Yasha wants his share too--it's too bad. Mother's got +a footman now, Yasha; we've brought him here. + +VARYA. I saw the wretch. + +ANYA. How's business? Has the interest been paid? + +VARYA. Not much chance of that. + +ANYA. Oh God, oh God... + +VARYA. The place will be sold in August. + +ANYA. O God.... + +LOPAKHIN. [Looks in at the door and moos] Moo!... [Exit.] + +VARYA. [Through her tears] I'd like to.... [Shakes her fist.] + +ANYA. [Embraces VARYA, softly] Varya, has he proposed to you? [VARYA +shakes head] But he loves you.... Why don't you make up your minds? Why +do you keep on waiting? + +VARYA. I think that it will all come to nothing. He's a busy man. I'm +not his affair... he pays no attention to me. Bless the man, I don't +want to see him.... But everybody talks about our marriage, everybody +congratulates me, and there's nothing in it at all, it's all like a +dream. [In another tone] You've got a brooch like a bee. + +ANYA. [Sadly] Mother bought it. [Goes into her room, and talks lightly, +like a child] In Paris I went up in a balloon! + +VARYA. My darling's come back, my pretty one's come back! [DUNYASHA has +already returned with the coffee-pot and is making the coffee, VARYA +stands near the door] I go about all day, looking after the house, and +I think all the time, if only you could marry a rich man, then I'd be +happy and would go away somewhere by myself, then to Kiev... to Moscow, +and so on, from one holy place to another. I'd tramp and tramp. That +would be splendid! + +ANYA. The birds are singing in the garden. What time is it now? + +VARYA. It must be getting on for three. Time you went to sleep, darling. +[Goes into ANYA'S room] Splendid! + +[Enter YASHA with a plaid shawl and a travelling bag.] + +YASHA. [Crossing the stage: Politely] May I go this way? + +DUNYASHA. I hardly knew you, Yasha. You have changed abroad. + +YASHA. Hm... and who are you? + +DUNYASHA. When you went away I was only so high. [Showing with her hand] +I'm Dunyasha, the daughter of Theodore Kozoyedov. You don't remember! + +YASHA. Oh, you little cucumber! + +[Looks round and embraces her. She screams and drops a saucer. YASHA +goes out quickly.] + +VARYA. [In the doorway: In an angry voice] What's that? + +DUNYASHA. [Through her tears] I've broken a saucer. + +VARYA. It may bring luck. + +ANYA. [Coming out of her room] We must tell mother that Peter's here. + +VARYA. I told them not to wake him. + +ANYA. [Thoughtfully] Father died six years ago, and a month later my +brother Grisha was drowned in the river--such a dear little boy of +seven! Mother couldn't bear it; she went away, away, without looking +round.... [Shudders] How I understand her; if only she knew! [Pause] And +Peter Trofimov was Grisha's tutor, he might tell her.... + +[Enter FIERS in a short jacket and white waistcoat.] + +FIERS. [Goes to the coffee-pot, nervously] The mistress is going to +have some food here.... [Puts on white gloves] Is the coffee ready? [To +DUNYASHA, severely] You! Where's the cream? + +DUNYASHA. Oh, dear me...! [Rapid exit.] + +FIERS. [Fussing round the coffee-pot] Oh, you bungler.... [Murmurs +to himself] Back from Paris... the master went to Paris once... in a +carriage.... [Laughs.] + +VARYA. What are you talking about, Fiers? + +FIERS. I beg your pardon? [Joyfully] The mistress is home again. I've +lived to see her! Don't care if I die now.... [Weeps with joy.] + +[Enter LUBOV ANDREYEVNA, GAEV, LOPAKHIN, and SIMEONOV-PISCHIN, the +latter in a long jacket of thin cloth and loose trousers. GAEV, coming +in, moves his arms and body about as if he is playing billiards.] + +LUBOV. Let me remember now. Red into the corner! Twice into the centre! + +GAEV. Right into the pocket! Once upon a time you and I used both to +sleep in this room, and now I'm fifty-one; it does seem strange. + +LOPAKHIN. Yes, time does go. + +GAEV. Who does? + +LOPAKHIN. I said that time does go. + +GAEV. It smells of patchouli here. + +ANYA. I'm going to bed. Good-night, mother. [Kisses her.] + +LUBOV. My lovely little one. [Kisses her hand] Glad to be at home? I +can't get over it. + +ANYA. Good-night, uncle. + +GAEV. [Kisses her face and hands] God be with you. How you do resemble +your mother! [To his sister] You were just like her at her age, Luba. + +[ANYA gives her hand to LOPAKHIN and PISCHIN and goes out, shutting the +door behind her.] + +LUBOV. She's awfully tired. + +PISCHIN. It's a very long journey. + +VARYA. [To LOPAKHIN and PISCHIN] Well, sirs, it's getting on for three, +quite time you went. + +LUBOV. [Laughs] You're just the same as ever, Varya. [Draws her close +and kisses her] I'll have some coffee now, then we'll all go. [FIERS +lays a cushion under her feet] Thank you, dear. I'm used to coffee. I +drink it day and night. Thank you, dear old man. [Kisses FIERS.] + +VARYA. I'll go and see if they've brought in all the luggage. [Exit.] + +LUBOV. Is it really I who am sitting here? [Laughs] I want to jump +about and wave my arms. [Covers her face with her hands] But suppose I'm +dreaming! God knows I love my own country, I love it deeply; I couldn't +look out of the railway carriage, I cried so much. [Through her tears] +Still, I must have my coffee. Thank you, Fiers. Thank you, dear old man. +I'm so glad you're still with us. + +FIERS. The day before yesterday. + +GAEV. He doesn't hear well. + +LOPAKHIN. I've got to go off to Kharkov by the five o'clock train. I'm +awfully sorry! I should like to have a look at you, to gossip a little. +You're as fine-looking as ever. + +PISCHIN. [Breathes heavily] Even finer-looking... dressed in Paris +fashions... confound it all. + +LOPAKHIN. Your brother, Leonid Andreyevitch, says I'm a snob, a usurer, +but that is absolutely nothing to me. Let him talk. Only I do wish you +would believe in me as you once did, that your wonderful, touching eyes +would look at me as they did before. Merciful God! My father was the +serf of your grandfather and your own father, but you--you more than +anybody else--did so much for me once upon a time that I've forgotten +everything and love you as if you belonged to my family... and even +more. + +LUBOV. I can't sit still, I'm not in a state to do it. [Jumps up and +walks about in great excitement] I'll never survive this happiness.... +You can laugh at me; I'm a silly woman.... My dear little cupboard. +[Kisses cupboard] My little table. + +GAEV. Nurse has died in your absence. + +LUBOV. [Sits and drinks coffee] Yes, bless her soul. I heard by letter. + +GAEV. And Anastasius has died too. Peter Kosoy has left me and now lives +in town with the Commissioner of Police. [Takes a box of sugar-candy out +of his pocket and sucks a piece.] + +PISCHIN. My daughter, Dashenka, sends her love. + +LOPAKHIN. I want to say something very pleasant, very delightful, to +you. [Looks at his watch] I'm going away at once, I haven't much time... +but I'll tell you all about it in two or three words. As you already +know, your cherry orchard is to be sold to pay your debts, and the sale +is fixed for August 22; but you needn't be alarmed, dear madam, you +may sleep in peace; there's a way out. Here's my plan. Please attend +carefully! Your estate is only thirteen miles from the town, the railway +runs by, and if the cherry orchard and the land by the river are broken +up into building lots and are then leased off for villas you'll get at +least twenty-five thousand roubles a year profit out of it. + +GAEV. How utterly absurd! + +LUBOV. I don't understand you at all, Ermolai Alexeyevitch. + +LOPAKHIN. You will get twenty-five roubles a year for each dessiatin +from the leaseholders at the very least, and if you advertise now I'm +willing to bet that you won't have a vacant plot left by the autumn; +they'll all go. In a word, you're saved. I congratulate you. Only, +of course, you'll have to put things straight, and clean up.... For +instance, you'll have to pull down all the old buildings, this house, +which isn't any use to anybody now, and cut down the old cherry +orchard.... + +LUBOV. Cut it down? My dear man, you must excuse me, but you don't +understand anything at all. If there's anything interesting or +remarkable in the whole province, it's this cherry orchard of ours. + +LOPAKHIN. The only remarkable thing about the orchard is that it's very +large. It only bears fruit every other year, and even then you don't +know what to do with them; nobody buys any. + +GAEV. This orchard is mentioned in the "Encyclopaedic Dictionary." + +LOPAKHIN. [Looks at his watch] If we can't think of anything and don't +make up our minds to anything, then on August 22, both the cherry +orchard and the whole estate will be up for auction. Make up your mind! +I swear there's no other way out, I'll swear it again. + +FIERS. In the old days, forty or fifty years back, they dried the +cherries, soaked them and pickled them, and made jam of them, and it +used to happen that... + +GAEV. Be quiet, Fiers. + +FIERS. And then we'd send the dried cherries off in carts to Moscow and +Kharkov. And money! And the dried cherries were soft, juicy, sweet, and +nicely scented.... They knew the way.... + +LUBOV. What was the way? + +FIERS. They've forgotten. Nobody remembers. + +PISCHIN. [To LUBOV ANDREYEVNA] What about Paris? Eh? Did you eat frogs? + +LUBOV. I ate crocodiles. + +PISCHIN. To think of that, now. + +LOPAKHIN. Up to now in the villages there were only the gentry and the +labourers, and now the people who live in villas have arrived. All towns +now, even small ones, are surrounded by villas. And it's safe to say +that in twenty years' time the villa resident will be all over the +place. At present he sits on his balcony and drinks tea, but it may well +come to pass that he'll begin to cultivate his patch of land, and then +your cherry orchard will be happy, rich, splendid.... + +GAEV. [Angry] What rot! + +[Enter VARYA and YASHA.] + +VARYA. There are two telegrams for you, little mother. [Picks out a key +and noisily unlocks an antique cupboard] Here they are. + +LUBOV. They're from Paris.... [Tears them up without reading them] I've +done with Paris. + +GAEV. And do you know, Luba, how old this case is? A week ago I took out +the bottom drawer; I looked and saw figures burnt out in it. That case +was made exactly a hundred years ago. What do you think of that? What? +We could celebrate its jubilee. It hasn't a soul of its own, but still, +say what you will, it's a fine bookcase. + +PISCHIN. [Astonished] A hundred years.... Think of that! + +GAEV. Yes... it's a real thing. [Handling it] My dear and honoured case! +I congratulate you on your existence, which has already for more than +a hundred years been directed towards the bright ideals of good and +justice; your silent call to productive labour has not grown less in the +hundred years [Weeping] during which you have upheld virtue and faith +in a better future to the generations of our race, educating us up +to ideals of goodness and to the knowledge of a common consciousness. +[Pause.] + +LOPAKHIN. Yes.... + +LUBOV. You're just the same as ever, Leon. + +GAEV. [A little confused] Off the white on the right, into the corner +pocket. Red ball goes into the middle pocket! + +LOPAKHIN. [Looks at his watch] It's time I went. + +YASHA. [Giving LUBOV ANDREYEVNA her medicine] Will you take your pills +now? + +PISCHIN. You oughtn't to take medicines, dear madam; they do you neither +harm nor good.... Give them here, dear madam. [Takes the pills, turns +them out into the palm of his hand, blows on them, puts them into his +mouth, and drinks some kvass] There! + +LUBOV. [Frightened] You're off your head! + +PISCHIN. I've taken all the pills. + +LOPAKHIN. Gormandizer! [All laugh.] + +FIERS. They were here in Easter week and ate half a pailful of +cucumbers.... [Mumbles.] + +LUBOV. What's he driving at? + +VARYA. He's been mumbling away for three years. We're used to that. + +YASHA. Senile decay. + +[CHARLOTTA IVANOVNA crosses the stage, dressed in white: she is very +thin and tightly laced; has a lorgnette at her waist.] + +LOPAKHIN. Excuse me, Charlotta Ivanovna, I haven't said "How do you do" +to you yet. [Tries to kiss her hand.] + +CHARLOTTA. [Takes her hand away] If you let people kiss your hand, then +they'll want your elbow, then your shoulder, and then... + +LOPAKHIN. My luck's out to-day! [All laugh] Show us a trick, Charlotta +Ivanovna! + +LUBOV ANDREYEVNA. Charlotta, do us a trick. + +CHARLOTTA. It's not necessary. I want to go to bed. [Exit.] + +LOPAKHIN. We shall see each other in three weeks. [Kisses LUBOV +ANDREYEVNA'S hand] Now, good-bye. It's time to go. [To GAEV] See you +again. [Kisses PISCHIN] Au revoir. [Gives his hand to VARYA, then to +FIERS and to YASHA] I don't want to go away. [To LUBOV ANDREYEVNA]. If +you think about the villas and make up your mind, then just let me +know, and I'll raise a loan of 50,000 roubles at once. Think about it +seriously. + +VARYA. [Angrily] Do go, now! + +LOPAKHIN. I'm going, I'm going.... [Exit.] + +GAEV. Snob. Still, I beg pardon.... Varya's going to marry him, he's +Varya's young man. + +VARYA. Don't talk too much, uncle. + +LUBOV. Why not, Varya? I should be very glad. He's a good man. + +PISCHIN. To speak the honest truth... he's a worthy man.... And my +Dashenka... also says that... she says lots of things. [Snores, but +wakes up again at once] But still, dear madam, if you could lend me... +240 roubles... to pay the interest on my mortgage to-morrow... + +VARYA. [Frightened] We haven't got it, we haven't got it! + +LUBOV. It's quite true. I've nothing at all. + +PISCHIN. I'll find it all right [Laughs] I never lose hope. I used to +think, "Everything's lost now. I'm a dead man," when, lo and behold, a +railway was built over my land... and they paid me for it. And something +else will happen to-day or to-morrow. Dashenka may win 20,000 roubles... +she's got a lottery ticket. + +LUBOV. The coffee's all gone, we can go to bed. + +FIERS. [Brushing GAEV'S trousers; in an insistent tone] You've put on +the wrong trousers again. What am I to do with you? + +VARYA. [Quietly] Anya's asleep. [Opens window quietly] The sun has risen +already; it isn't cold. Look, little mother: what lovely trees! And the +air! The starlings are singing! + +GAEV. [Opens the other window] The whole garden's white. You haven't +forgotten, Luba? There's that long avenue going straight, straight, like +a stretched strap; it shines on moonlight nights. Do you remember? You +haven't forgotten? + +LUBOV. [Looks out into the garden] Oh, my childhood, days of my +innocence! In this nursery I used to sleep; I used to look out from here +into the orchard. Happiness used to wake with me every morning, and then +it was just as it is now; nothing has changed. [Laughs from joy] It's +all, all white! Oh, my orchard! After the dark autumns and the cold +winters, you're young again, full of happiness, the angels of heaven +haven't left you.... If only I could take my heavy burden off my breast +and shoulders, if I could forget my past! + +GAEV. Yes, and they'll sell this orchard to pay off debts. How strange +it seems! + +LUBOV. Look, there's my dead mother going in the orchard... dressed in +white! [Laughs from joy] That's she. + +GAEV. Where? + +VARYA. God bless you, little mother. + +LUBOV. There's nobody there; I thought I saw somebody. On the right, at +the turning by the summer-house, a white little tree bent down, looking +just like a woman. [Enter TROFIMOV in a worn student uniform and +spectacles] What a marvellous garden! White masses of flowers, the blue +sky.... + +TROFIMOV. Lubov Andreyevna! [She looks round at him] I only want to show +myself, and I'll go away. [Kisses her hand warmly] I was told to wait +till the morning, but I didn't have the patience. + +[LUBOV ANDREYEVNA looks surprised.] + +VARYA. [Crying] It's Peter Trofimov. + +TROFIMOV. Peter Trofimov, once the tutor of your Grisha.... Have I +changed so much? + +[LUBOV ANDREYEVNA embraces him and cries softly.] + +GAEV. [Confused] That's enough, that's enough, Luba. + +VARYA. [Weeps] But I told you, Peter, to wait till to-morrow. + +LUBOV. My Grisha... my boy... Grisha... my son. + +VARYA. What are we to do, little mother? It's the will of God. + +TROFIMOV. [Softly, through his tears] It's all right, it's all right. + +LUBOV. [Still weeping] My boy's dead; he was drowned. Why? Why, my +friend? [Softly] Anya's asleep in there. I am speaking so loudly, making +such a noise.... Well, Peter? What's made you look so bad? Why have you +grown so old? + +TROFIMOV. In the train an old woman called me a decayed gentleman. + +LUBOV. You were quite a boy then, a nice little student, and now your +hair is not at all thick and you wear spectacles. Are you really still a +student? [Goes to the door.] + +TROFIMOV. I suppose I shall always be a student. + +LUBOV. [Kisses her brother, then VARYA] Well, let's go to bed.... And +you've grown older, Leonid. + +PISCHIN. [Follows her] Yes, we've got to go to bed.... Oh, my gout! I'll +stay the night here. If only, Lubov Andreyevna, my dear, you could get +me 240 roubles to-morrow morning-- + +GAEV. Still the same story. + +PISCHIN. Two hundred and forty roubles... to pay the interest on the +mortgage. + +LUBOV. I haven't any money, dear man. + +PISCHIN. I'll give it back... it's a small sum.... + +LUBOV. Well, then, Leonid will give it to you.... Let him have it, +Leonid. + +GAEV. By all means; hold out your hand. + +LUBOV. Why not? He wants it; he'll give it back. + +[LUBOV ANDREYEVNA, TROFIMOV, PISCHIN, and FIERS go out. GAEV, VARYA, and +YASHA remain.] + +GAEV. My sister hasn't lost the habit of throwing money about. [To +YASHA] Stand off, do; you smell of poultry. + +YASHA. [Grins] You are just the same as ever, Leonid Andreyevitch. + +GAEV. Really? [To VARYA] What's he saying? + +VARYA. [To YASHA] Your mother's come from the village; she's been +sitting in the servants' room since yesterday, and wants to see you.... + +YASHA. Bless the woman! + +VARYA. Shameless man. + +YASHA. A lot of use there is in her coming. She might have come tomorrow +just as well. [Exit.] + +VARYA. Mother hasn't altered a scrap, she's just as she always was. +She'd give away everything, if the idea only entered her head. + +GAEV. Yes.... [Pause] If there's any illness for which people offer many +remedies, you may be sure that particular illness is incurable, I think. +I work my brains to their hardest. I've several remedies, very many, +and that really means I've none at all. It would be nice to inherit a +fortune from somebody, it would be nice to marry our Anya to a rich +man, it would be nice to go to Yaroslav and try my luck with my aunt the +Countess. My aunt is very, very rich. + +VARYA. [Weeps] If only God helped us. + +GAEV. Don't cry. My aunt's very rich, but she doesn't like us. My +sister, in the first place, married an advocate, not a noble.... [ANYA +appears in the doorway] She not only married a man who was not a noble, +but she behaved herself in a way which cannot be described as proper. +She's nice and kind and charming, and I'm very fond of her, but say what +you will in her favour and you still have to admit that she's wicked; +you can feel it in her slightest movements. + +VARYA. [Whispers] Anya's in the doorway. + +GAEV. Really? [Pause] It's curious, something's got into my right eye... +I can't see properly out of it. And on Thursday, when I was at the +District Court... + +[Enter ANYA.] + +VARYA. Why aren't you in bed, Anya? + +ANYA. Can't sleep. It's no good. + +GAEV. My darling! [Kisses ANYA'S face and hands] My child.... [Crying] +You're not my niece, you're my angel, you're my all.... Believe in me, +believe... + +ANYA. I do believe in you, uncle. Everybody loves you and respects +you... but, uncle dear, you ought to say nothing, no more than that. +What were you saying just now about my mother, your own sister? Why did +you say those things? + +GAEV. Yes, yes. [Covers his face with her hand] Yes, really, it was +awful. Save me, my God! And only just now I made a speech before a +bookcase... it's so silly! And only when I'd finished I knew how silly +it was. + +VARYA. Yes, uncle dear, you really ought to say less. Keep quiet, that's +all. + +ANYA. You'd be so much happier in yourself if you only kept quiet. + +GAEV. All right, I'll be quiet. [Kisses their hands] I'll be quiet. But +let's talk business. On Thursday I was in the District Court, and a lot +of us met there together, and we began to talk of this, that, and the +other, and now I think I can arrange a loan to pay the interest into the +bank. + +VARYA. If only God would help us! + +GAEV. I'll go on Tuesday. I'll talk with them about it again. [To VARYA] +Don't howl. [To ANYA] Your mother will have a talk to Lopakhin; he, of +course, won't refuse... And when you've rested you'll go to Yaroslav to +the Countess, your grandmother. So you see, we'll have three irons in +the fire, and we'll be safe. We'll pay up the interest. I'm certain. +[Puts some sugar-candy into his mouth] I swear on my honour, on anything +you will, that the estate will not be sold! [Excitedly] I swear on my +happiness! Here's my hand. You may call me a dishonourable wretch if I +let it go to auction! I swear by all I am! + +ANYA. [She is calm again and happy] How good and clever you are, uncle. +[Embraces him] I'm happy now! I'm happy! All's well! + +[Enter FIERS.] + +FIERS. [Reproachfully] Leonid Andreyevitch, don't you fear God? When are +you going to bed? + +GAEV. Soon, soon. You go away, Fiers. I'll undress myself. Well, +children, bye-bye...! I'll give you the details to-morrow, but let's go +to bed now. [Kisses ANYA and VARYA] I'm a man of the eighties.... People +don't praise those years much, but I can still say that I've suffered +for my beliefs. The peasants don't love me for nothing, I assure you. +We've got to learn to know the peasants! We ought to learn how.... + +ANYA. You're doing it again, uncle! + +VARYA. Be quiet, uncle! + +FIERS. [Angrily] Leonid Andreyevitch! + +GAEV. I'm coming, I'm coming.... Go to bed now. Off two cushions into +the middle! I turn over a new leaf.... [Exit. FIERS goes out after him.] + +ANYA. I'm quieter now. I don't want to go to Yaroslav, I don't like +grandmother; but I'm calm now; thanks to uncle. [Sits down.] + +VARYA. It's time to go to sleep. I'll go. There's been an unpleasantness +here while you were away. In the old servants' part of the house, as you +know, only the old people live--little old Efim and Polya and Evstigney, +and Karp as well. They started letting some tramps or other spend the +night there--I said nothing. Then I heard that they were saying that I +had ordered them to be fed on peas and nothing else; from meanness, you +see.... And it was all Evstigney's doing.... Very well, I thought, +if that's what the matter is, just you wait. So I call Evstigney.... +[Yawns] He comes. "What's this," I say, "Evstigney, you old fool."... +[Looks at ANYA] Anya dear! [Pause] She's dropped off.... [Takes ANYA'S +arm] Let's go to bye-bye.... Come along!... [Leads her] My darling's +gone to sleep! Come on.... [They go. In the distance, the other side of +the orchard, a shepherd plays his pipe. TROFIMOV crosses the stage and +stops on seeing VARYA and ANYA] Sh! She's asleep, asleep. Come on, dear. + +ANYA. [Quietly, half-asleep] I'm so tired... all the bells... uncle, +dear! Mother and uncle! + +VARYA. Come on, dear, come on! [They go into ANYA'S room.] + +TROFIMOV. [Moved] My sun! My spring! + +Curtain. + + + + +ACT TWO + + +[In a field. An old, crooked shrine, which has been long abandoned; near +it a well and large stones, which apparently are old tombstones, and +an old garden seat. The road is seen to GAEV'S estate. On one side rise +dark poplars, behind them begins the cherry orchard. In the distance +is a row of telegraph poles, and far, far away on the horizon are the +indistinct signs of a large town, which can only be seen on the finest +and clearest days. It is close on sunset. CHARLOTTA, YASHA, and DUNYASHA +are sitting on the seat; EPIKHODOV stands by and plays on a guitar; all +seem thoughtful. CHARLOTTA wears a man's old peaked cap; she has unslung +a rifle from her shoulders and is putting to rights the buckle on the +strap.] + +CHARLOTTA. [Thoughtfully] I haven't a real passport. I don't know how +old I am, and I think I'm young. When I was a little girl my father and +mother used to go round fairs and give very good performances and I used +to do the _salto mortale_ and various little things. And when papa and +mamma died a German lady took me to her and began to teach me. I liked +it. I grew up and became a governess. And where I came from and who +I am, I don't know.... Who my parents were--perhaps they weren't +married--I don't know. [Takes a cucumber out of her pocket and eats] I +don't know anything. [Pause] I do want to talk, but I haven't anybody to +talk to... I haven't anybody at all. + +EPIKHODOV. [Plays on the guitar and sings] + + "What is this noisy earth to me, + What matter friends and foes?" + I do like playing on the mandoline! + +DUNYASHA. That's a guitar, not a mandoline. [Looks at herself in a +little mirror and powders herself.] + +EPIKHODOV. For the enamoured madman, this is a mandoline. [Sings] + + "Oh that the heart was warmed, + By all the flames of love returned!" + +[YASHA sings too.] + +CHARLOTTA. These people sing terribly.... Foo! Like jackals. + +DUNYASHA. [To YASHA] Still, it must be nice to live abroad. + +YASHA. Yes, certainly. I cannot differ from you there. [Yawns and lights +a cigar.] + +EPIKHODOV. That is perfectly natural. Abroad everything is in full +complexity. + +YASHA. That goes without saying. + +EPIKHODOV. I'm an educated man, I read various remarkable books, but I +cannot understand the direction I myself want to go--whether to live +or to shoot myself, as it were. So, in case, I always carry a revolver +about with me. Here it is. [Shows a revolver.] + +CHARLOTTA. I've done. Now I'll go. [Slings the rifle] You, Epikhodov, +are a very clever man and very terrible; women must be madly in love +with you. Brrr! [Going] These wise ones are all so stupid. I've nobody +to talk to. I'm always alone, alone; I've nobody at all... and I don't +know who I am or why I live. [Exit slowly.] + +EPIKHODOV. As a matter of fact, independently of everything else, I must +express my feeling, among other things, that fate has been as pitiless +in her dealings with me as a storm is to a small ship. Suppose, let +us grant, I am wrong; then why did I wake up this morning, to give an +example, and behold an enormous spider on my chest, like that. [Shows +with both hands] And if I do drink some kvass, why is it that there is +bound to be something of the most indelicate nature in it, such as a +beetle? [Pause] Have you read Buckle? [Pause] I should like to trouble +you, Avdotya Fedorovna, for two words. + +DUNYASHA. Say on. + +EPIKHODOV. I should prefer to be alone with you. [Sighs.] + +DUNYASHA. [Shy] Very well, only first bring me my little cloak.... It's +by the cupboard. It's a little damp here. + +EPIKHODOV. Very well... I'll bring it.... Now I know what to do with my +revolver. [Takes guitar and exits, strumming.] + +YASHA. Two-and-twenty troubles! A silly man, between you and me and the +gatepost. [Yawns.] + +DUNYASHA. I hope to goodness he won't shoot himself. [Pause] I'm so +nervous, I'm worried. I went into service when I was quite a little +girl, and now I'm not used to common life, and my hands are white, white +as a lady's. I'm so tender and so delicate now; respectable and afraid +of everything.... I'm so frightened. And I don't know what will happen +to my nerves if you deceive me, Yasha. + +YASHA. [Kisses her] Little cucumber! Of course, every girl must respect +herself; there's nothing I dislike more than a badly behaved girl. + +DUNYASHA. I'm awfully in love with you; you're educated, you can talk +about everything. [Pause.] + +YASHA. [Yawns] Yes. I think this: if a girl loves anybody, then that +means she's immoral. [Pause] It's nice to smoke a cigar out in the open +air.... [Listens] Somebody's coming. It's the mistress, and people with +her. [DUNYASHA embraces him suddenly] Go to the house, as if you'd been +bathing in the river; go by this path, or they'll meet you and will +think I've been meeting you. I can't stand that sort of thing. + +DUNYASHA. [Coughs quietly] My head's aching because of your cigar. + +[Exit. YASHA remains, sitting by the shrine. Enter LUBOV ANDREYEVNA, +GAEV, and LOPAKHIN.] + +LOPAKHIN. You must make up your mind definitely--there's no time to +waste. The question is perfectly plain. Are you willing to let the land +for villas or no? Just one word, yes or no? Just one word! + +LUBOV. Who's smoking horrible cigars here? [Sits.] + +GAEV. They built that railway; that's made this place very handy. [Sits] +Went to town and had lunch... red in the middle! I'd like to go in now +and have just one game. + +LUBOV. You'll have time. + +LOPAKHIN. Just one word! [Imploringly] Give me an answer! + +GAEV. [Yawns] Really! + +LUBOV. [Looks in her purse] I had a lot of money yesterday, but there's +very little to-day. My poor Varya feeds everybody on milk soup to +save money, in the kitchen the old people only get peas, and I spend +recklessly. [Drops the purse, scattering gold coins] There, they are all +over the place. + +YASHA. Permit me to pick them up. [Collects the coins.] + +LUBOV. Please do, Yasha. And why did I go and have lunch there?... A +horrid restaurant with band and tablecloths smelling of soap.... Why +do you drink so much, Leon? Why do you eat so much? Why do you talk so +much? You talked again too much to-day in the restaurant, and it wasn't +at all to the point--about the seventies and about decadents. And to +whom? Talking to the waiters about decadents! + +LOPAKHIN. Yes. + +GAEV. [Waves his hand] I can't be cured, that's obvious.... [Irritably +to YASHA] What's the matter? Why do you keep twisting about in front of +me? + +YASHA. [Laughs] I can't listen to your voice without laughing. + +GAEV. [To his sister] Either he or I... + +LUBOV. Go away, Yasha; get out of this.... + +YASHA. [Gives purse to LUBOV ANDREYEVNA] I'll go at once. [Hardly able +to keep from laughing] This minute.... [Exit.] + +LOPAKHIN. That rich man Deriganov is preparing to buy your estate. They +say he'll come to the sale himself. + +LUBOV. Where did you hear that? + +LOPAKHIN. They say so in town. + +GAEV. Our Yaroslav aunt has promised to send something, but I don't know +when or how much. + +LOPAKHIN. How much will she send? A hundred thousand roubles? Or two, +perhaps? + +LUBOV. I'd be glad of ten or fifteen thousand. + +LOPAKHIN. You must excuse my saying so, but I've never met such +frivolous people as you before, or anybody so unbusinesslike and +peculiar. Here I am telling you in plain language that your estate will +be sold, and you don't seem to understand. + +LUBOV. What are we to do? Tell us, what? + +LOPAKHIN. I tell you every day. I say the same thing every day. Both the +cherry orchard and the land must be leased off for villas and at once, +immediately--the auction is staring you in the face: Understand! Once +you do definitely make up your minds to the villas, then you'll have as +much money as you want and you'll be saved. + +LUBOV. Villas and villa residents--it's so vulgar, excuse me. + +GAEV. I entirely agree with you. + +LOPAKHIN. I must cry or yell or faint. I can't stand it! You're too much +for me! [To GAEV] You old woman! + +GAEV. Really! + +LOPAKHIN. Old woman! [Going out.] + +LUBOV. [Frightened] No, don't go away, do stop; be a dear. Please. +Perhaps we'll find some way out! + +LOPAKHIN. What's the good of trying to think! + +LUBOV. Please don't go away. It's nicer when you're here.... [Pause] +I keep on waiting for something to happen, as if the house is going to +collapse over our heads. + +GAEV. [Thinking deeply] Double in the corner... across the middle.... + +LUBOV. We have been too sinful.... + +LOPAKHIN. What sins have you committed? + +GAEV. [Puts candy into his mouth] They say that I've eaten all my +substance in sugar-candies. [Laughs.] + +LUBOV. Oh, my sins.... I've always scattered money about without holding +myself in, like a madwoman, and I married a man who made nothing but +debts. My husband died of champagne--he drank terribly--and to my +misfortune, I fell in love with another man and went off with him, and +just at that time--it was my first punishment, a blow that hit me right +on the head--here, in the river... my boy was drowned, and I went away, +quite away, never to return, never to see this river again...I shut my +eyes and ran without thinking, but _he_ ran after me... without pity, +without respect. I bought a villa near Mentone because _he_ fell ill +there, and for three years I knew no rest either by day or night; the +sick man wore me out, and my soul dried up. And last year, when they +had sold the villa to pay my debts, I went away to Paris, and there +he robbed me of all I had and threw me over and went off with another +woman. I tried to poison myself.... It was so silly, so shameful.... +And suddenly I longed to be back in Russia, my own land, with my little +girl.... [Wipes her tears] Lord, Lord be merciful to me, forgive me my +sins! Punish me no more! [Takes a telegram out of her pocket] I had +this to-day from Paris.... He begs my forgiveness, he implores me to +return.... [Tears it up] Don't I hear music? [Listens.] + +GAEV. That is our celebrated Jewish band. You remember--four violins, a +flute, and a double-bass. + +LUBOV So it still exists? It would be nice if they came along some +evening. + +LOPAKHIN. [Listens] I can't hear.... [Sings quietly] "For money will the +Germans make a Frenchman of a Russian." [Laughs] I saw such an awfully +funny thing at the theatre last night. + +LUBOV. I'm quite sure there wasn't anything at all funny. You oughtn't +to go and see plays, you ought to go and look at yourself. What a grey +life you lead, what a lot you talk unnecessarily. + +LOPAKHIN. It's true. To speak the straight truth, we live a silly life. +[Pause] My father was a peasant, an idiot, he understood nothing, he +didn't teach me, he was always drunk, and always used a stick on me. In +point of fact, I'm a fool and an idiot too. I've never learned anything, +my handwriting is bad, I write so that I'm quite ashamed before people, +like a pig! + +LUBOV. You ought to get married, my friend. + +LOPAKHIN. Yes... that's true. + +LUBOV. Why not to our Varya? She's a nice girl. + +LOPAKHIN. Yes. + +LUBOV. She's quite homely in her ways, works all day, and, what matters +most, she's in love with you. And you've liked her for a long time. + +LOPAKHIN. Well? I don't mind... she's a nice girl. [Pause.] + +GAEV. I'm offered a place in a bank. Six thousand roubles a year.... Did +you hear? + +LUBOV. What's the matter with you! Stay where you are.... + +[Enter FIERS with an overcoat.] + +FIERS. [To GAEV] Please, sir, put this on, it's damp. + +GAEV. [Putting it on] You're a nuisance, old man. + +FIERS It's all very well.... You went away this morning without telling +me. [Examining GAEV.] + +LUBOV. How old you've grown, Fiers! + +FIERS. I beg your pardon? + +LOPAKHIN. She says you've grown very old! + +FIERS. I've been alive a long time. They were already getting ready +to marry me before your father was born.... [Laughs] And when the +Emancipation came I was already first valet. Only I didn't agree with +the Emancipation and remained with my people.... [Pause] I remember +everybody was happy, but they didn't know why. + +LOPAKHIN. It was very good for them in the old days. At any rate, they +used to beat them. + +FIERS. [Not hearing] Rather. The peasants kept their distance from the +masters and the masters kept their distance from the peasants, but now +everything's all anyhow and you can't understand anything. + +GAEV. Be quiet, Fiers. I've got to go to town tomorrow. I've been +promised an introduction to a General who may lend me money on a bill. + +LOPAKHIN. Nothing will come of it. And you won't pay your interest, +don't you worry. + +LUBOV. He's talking rubbish. There's no General at all. + +[Enter TROFIMOV, ANYA, and VARYA.] + +GAEV. Here they are. + +ANYA. Mother's sitting down here. + +LUBOV. [Tenderly] Come, come, my dears.... [Embracing ANYA and VARYA] If +you two only knew how much I love you. Sit down next to me, like that. +[All sit down.] + +LOPAKHIN. Our eternal student is always with the ladies. + +TROFIMOV. That's not your business. + +LOPAKHIN. He'll soon be fifty, and he's still a student. + +TROFIMOV. Leave off your silly jokes! + +LOPAKHIN. Getting angry, eh, silly? + +TROFIMOV. Shut up, can't you. + +LOPAKHIN. [Laughs] I wonder what you think of me? + +TROFIMOV. I think, Ermolai Alexeyevitch, that you're a rich man, +and you'll soon be a millionaire. Just as the wild beast which eats +everything it finds is needed for changes to take place in matter, so +you are needed too. + +[All laugh.] + +VARYA. Better tell us something about the planets, Peter. + +LUBOV ANDREYEVNA. No, let's go on with yesterday's talk! + +TROFIMOV. About what? + +GAEV. About the proud man. + +TROFIMOV. Yesterday we talked for a long time but we didn't come to +anything in the end. There's something mystical about the proud man, in +your sense. Perhaps you are right from your point of view, but if you +take the matter simply, without complicating it, then what pride can +there be, what sense can there be in it, if a man is imperfectly made, +physiologically speaking, if in the vast majority of cases he is coarse +and stupid and deeply unhappy? We must stop admiring one another. We +must work, nothing more. + +GAEV. You'll die, all the same. + +TROFIMOV. Who knows? And what does it mean--you'll die? Perhaps a man +has a hundred senses, and when he dies only the five known to us are +destroyed and the remaining ninety-five are left alive. + +LUBOV. How clever of you, Peter! + +LOPAKHIN. [Ironically] Oh, awfully! + +TROFIMOV. The human race progresses, perfecting its powers. +Everything that is unattainable now will some day be near at hand and +comprehensible, but we must work, we must help with all our strength +those who seek to know what fate will bring. Meanwhile in Russia only +a very few of us work. The vast majority of those intellectuals whom I +know seek for nothing, do nothing, and are at present incapable of hard +work. They call themselves intellectuals, but they use "thou" and "thee" +to their servants, they treat the peasants like animals, they learn +badly, they read nothing seriously, they do absolutely nothing, about +science they only talk, about art they understand little. They are +all serious, they all have severe faces, they all talk about important +things. They philosophize, and at the same time, the vast majority +of us, ninety-nine out of a hundred, live like savages, fighting and +cursing at the slightest opportunity, eating filthily, sleeping in the +dirt, in stuffiness, with fleas, stinks, smells, moral filth, and so +on... And it's obvious that all our nice talk is only carried on to +distract ourselves and others. Tell me, where are those créches we hear +so much of? and where are those reading-rooms? People only write novels +about them; they don't really exist. Only dirt, vulgarity, and Asiatic +plagues really exist.... I'm afraid, and I don't at all like serious +faces; I don't like serious conversations. Let's be quiet sooner. + +LOPAKHIN. You know, I get up at five every morning, I work from +morning till evening, I am always dealing with money--my own and other +people's--and I see what people are like. You've only got to begin to +do anything to find out how few honest, honourable people there are. +Sometimes, when I can't sleep, I think: "Oh Lord, you've given us huge +forests, infinite fields, and endless horizons, and we, living here, +ought really to be giants." + +LUBOV. You want giants, do you?... They're only good in stories, and +even there they frighten one. [EPIKHODOV enters at the back of the stage +playing his guitar. Thoughtfully:] Epikhodov's there. + +ANYA. [Thoughtfully] Epikhodov's there. + +GAEV. The sun's set, ladies and gentlemen. + +TROFIMOV. Yes. + +GAEV [Not loudly, as if declaiming] O Nature, thou art wonderful, thou +shinest with eternal radiance! Oh, beautiful and indifferent one, thou +whom we call mother, thou containest in thyself existence and death, +thou livest and destroyest.... + +VARYA. [Entreatingly] Uncle, dear! + +ANYA. Uncle, you're doing it again! + +TROFIMOV. You'd better double the red into the middle. + +GAEV. I'll be quiet, I'll be quiet. + +[They all sit thoughtfully. It is quiet. Only the mumbling of FIERS is +heard. Suddenly a distant sound is heard as if from the sky, the sound +of a breaking string, which dies away sadly.] + +LUBOV. What's that? + +LOPAKHIN. I don't know. It may be a bucket fallen down a well somewhere. +But it's some way off. + +GAEV. Or perhaps it's some bird... like a heron. + +TROFIMOV. Or an owl. + +LUBOV. [Shudders] It's unpleasant, somehow. [A pause.] + +FIERS. Before the misfortune the same thing happened. An owl screamed +and the samovar hummed without stopping. + +GAEV. Before what misfortune? + +FIERS. Before the Emancipation. [A pause.] + +LUBOV. You know, my friends, let's go in; it's evening now. [To ANYA] +You've tears in your eyes.... What is it, little girl? [Embraces her.] + +ANYA. It's nothing, mother. + +TROFIMOV. Some one's coming. + +[Enter a TRAMP in an old white peaked cap and overcoat. He is a little +drunk.] + +TRAMP. Excuse me, may I go this way straight through to the station? + +GAEV. You may. Go along this path. + +TRAMP. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. [Hiccups] Lovely +weather.... [Declaims] My brother, my suffering brother.... Come out on +the Volga, you whose groans... [To VARYA] Mademoiselle, please give a +hungry Russian thirty copecks.... + +[VARYA screams, frightened.] + +LOPAKHIN. [Angrily] There's manners everybody's got to keep! + +LUBOV. [With a start] Take this... here you are.... [Feels in her purse] +There's no silver.... It doesn't matter, here's gold. + +TRAMP. I am deeply grateful to you! [Exit. Laughter.] + +VARYA. [Frightened] I'm going, I'm going.... Oh, little mother, at home +there's nothing for the servants to eat, and you gave him gold. + +LUBOV. What is to be done with such a fool as I am! At home I'll give +you everything I've got. Ermolai Alexeyevitch, lend me some more!... + +LOPAKHIN. Very well. + +LUBOV. Let's go, it's time. And Varya, we've settled your affair; I +congratulate you. + +VARYA. [Crying] You shouldn't joke about this, mother. + +LOPAKHIN. Oh, feel me, get thee to a nunnery. + +GAEV. My hands are all trembling; I haven't played billiards for a long +time. + +LOPAKHIN. Oh, feel me, nymph, remember me in thine orisons. + +LUBOV. Come along; it'll soon be supper-time. + +VARYA. He did frighten me. My heart is beating hard. + +LOPAKHIN. Let me remind you, ladies and gentlemen, on August 22 the +cherry orchard will be sold. Think of that!... Think of that!... + +[All go out except TROFIMOV and ANYA.] + +ANYA. [Laughs] Thanks to the tramp who frightened Barbara, we're alone +now. + +TROFIMOV. Varya's afraid we may fall in love with each other and won't +get away from us for days on end. Her narrow mind won't allow her to +understand that we are above love. To escape all the petty and deceptive +things which prevent our being happy and free, that is the aim and +meaning of our lives. Forward! We go irresistibly on to that bright star +which burns there, in the distance! Don't lag behind, friends! + +ANYA. [Clapping her hands] How beautifully you talk! [Pause] It is +glorious here to-day! + +TROFIMOV. Yes, the weather is wonderful. + +ANYA. What have you done to me, Peter? I don't love the cherry orchard +as I used to. I loved it so tenderly, I thought there was no better +place in the world than our orchard. + +TROFIMOV. All Russia is our orchard. The land is great and beautiful, +there are many marvellous places in it. [Pause] Think, Anya, your +grandfather, your great-grandfather, and all your ancestors were +serf-owners, they owned living souls; and now, doesn't something human +look at you from every cherry in the orchard, every leaf and every +stalk? Don't you hear voices...? Oh, it's awful, your orchard is +terrible; and when in the evening or at night you walk through the +orchard, then the old bark on the trees sheds a dim light and the old +cherry-trees seem to be dreaming of all that was a hundred, two hundred +years ago, and are oppressed by their heavy visions. Still, at any +rate, we've left those two hundred years behind us. So far we've gained +nothing at all--we don't yet know what the past is to be to us--we only +philosophize, we complain that we are dull, or we drink vodka. For it's +so clear that in order to begin to live in the present we must first +redeem the past, and that can only be done by suffering, by strenuous, +uninterrupted labour. Understand that, Anya. + +ANYA. The house in which we live has long ceased to be our house; I +shall go away. I give you my word. + +TROFIMOV. If you have the housekeeping keys, throw them down the well +and go away. Be as free as the wind. + +ANYA. [Enthusiastically] How nicely you said that! + +TROFIMOV. Believe me, Anya, believe me! I'm not thirty yet, I'm young, +I'm still a student, but I have undergone a great deal! I'm as hungry +as the winter, I'm ill, I'm shaken. I'm as poor as a beggar, and where +haven't I been--fate has tossed me everywhere! But my soul is always my +own; every minute of the day and the night it is filled with unspeakable +presentiments. I know that happiness is coming, Anya, I see it +already.... + +ANYA. [Thoughtful] The moon is rising. + +[EPIKHODOV is heard playing the same sad song on his guitar. The moon +rises. Somewhere by the poplars VARYA is looking for ANYA and calling, +"Anya, where are you?"] + +TROFIMOV. Yes, the moon has risen. [Pause] There is happiness, there it +comes; it comes nearer and nearer; I hear its steps already. And if we +do not see it we shall not know it, but what does that matter? Others +will see it! + +THE VOICE OF VARYA. Anya! Where are you? + +TROFIMOV. That's Varya again! [Angry] Disgraceful! + +ANYA. Never mind. Let's go to the river. It's nice there. + +TROFIMOV Let's go. [They go out.] + +THE VOICE OF VARYA. Anya! Anya! + +Curtain. + + + + +ACT THREE + + +[A reception-room cut off from a drawing-room by an arch. Chandelier +lighted. A Jewish band, the one mentioned in Act II, is heard playing +in another room. Evening. In the drawing-room the grand rond is being +danced. Voice of SIMEONOV PISCHIN "Promenade a une paire!" Dancers +come into the reception-room; the first pair are PISCHIN and CHARLOTTA +IVANOVNA; the second, TROFIMOV and LUBOV ANDREYEVNA; the third, ANYA and +the POST OFFICE CLERK; the fourth, VARYA and the STATION-MASTER, and +so on. VARYA is crying gently and wipes away her tears as she dances. +DUNYASHA is in the last pair. They go off into the drawing-room, +PISCHIN shouting, "Grand rond, balancez:" and "Les cavaliers à genou +et remerciez vos dames!" FIERS, in a dress-coat, carries a tray with +seltzer-water across. Enter PISCHIN and TROFIMOV from the drawing-room.] + +PISCHIN. I'm full-blooded and have already had two strokes; it's hard +for me to dance, but, as they say, if you're in Rome, you must do as +Rome does. I've got the strength of a horse. My dead father, who liked +a joke, peace to his bones, used to say, talking of our ancestors, +that the ancient stock of the Simeonov-Pischins was descended from that +identical horse that Caligula made a senator.... [Sits] But the trouble +is, I've no money! A hungry dog only believes in meat. [Snores and wakes +up again immediately] So I... only believe in money.... + +TROFIMOV. Yes. There is something equine about your figure. + +PISCHIN. Well... a horse is a fine animal... you can sell a horse. + +[Billiard playing can be heard in the next room. VARYA appears under the +arch.] + +TROFIMOV. [Teasing] Madame Lopakhin! Madame Lopakhin! + +VARYA. [Angry] Decayed gentleman! + +TROFIMOV. Yes, I am a decayed gentleman, and I'm proud of it! + +VARYA. [Bitterly] We've hired the musicians, but how are they to be +paid? [Exit.] + +TROFIMOV. [To PISCHIN] If the energy which you, in the course of your +life, have spent in looking for money to pay interest had been used +for something else, then, I believe, after all, you'd be able to turn +everything upside down. + +PISCHIN. Nietzsche... a philosopher... a very great, a most celebrated +man... a man of enormous brain, says in his books that you can forge +bank-notes. + +TROFIMOV. And have you read Nietzsche? + +PISCHIN. Well... Dashenka told me. Now I'm in such a position, I +wouldn't mind forging them... I've got to pay 310 roubles the day after +to-morrow... I've got 130 already.... [Feels his pockets, nervously] +I've lost the money! The money's gone! [Crying] Where's the money? +[Joyfully] Here it is behind the lining... I even began to perspire. + +[Enter LUBOV ANDREYEVNA and CHARLOTTA IVANOVNA.] + +LUBOV. [Humming a Caucasian dance] Why is Leonid away so long? What's he +doing in town? [To DUNYASHA] Dunyasha, give the musicians some tea. + +TROFIMOV. Business is off, I suppose. + +LUBOV. And the musicians needn't have come, and we needn't have got up +this ball.... Well, never mind.... [Sits and sings softly.] + +CHARLOTTA. [Gives a pack of cards to PISCHIN] Here's a pack of cards, +think of any one card you like. + +PISCHIN. I've thought of one. + +CHARLOTTA. Now shuffle. All right, now. Give them here, oh my dear +Mr. Pischin. _Ein, zwei, drei_! Now look and you'll find it in your +coat-tail pocket. + +PISCHIN. [Takes a card out of his coat-tail pocket] Eight of spades, +quite right! [Surprised] Think of that now! + +CHARLOTTA. [Holds the pack of cards on the palm of her hand. To +TROFIMOV] Now tell me quickly. What's the top card? + +TROFIMOV. Well, the queen of spades. + +CHARLOTTA. Right! [To PISCHIN] Well now? What card's on top? + +PISCHIN. Ace of hearts. + +CHARLOTTA. Right! [Claps her hands, the pack of cards vanishes] How +lovely the weather is to-day. [A mysterious woman's voice answers her, +as if from under the floor, "Oh yes, it's lovely weather, madam."] You +are so beautiful, you are my ideal. [Voice, "You, madam, please me very +much too."] + +STATION-MASTER. [Applauds] Madame ventriloquist, bravo! + +PISCHIN. [Surprised] Think of that, now! Delightful, Charlotte +Ivanovna... I'm simply in love.... + +CHARLOTTA. In love? [Shrugging her shoulders] Can you love? _Guter +Mensch aber schlechter Musikant_. + +TROFIMOV. [Slaps PISCHIN on the shoulder] Oh, you horse! + +CHARLOTTA. Attention please, here's another trick. [Takes a shawl from a +chair] Here's a very nice plaid shawl, I'm going to sell it.... [Shakes +it] Won't anybody buy it? + +PISCHIN. [Astonished] Think of that now! + +CHARLOTTA. _Ein, zwei, drei_. + +[She quickly lifts up the shawl, which is hanging down. ANYA is standing +behind it; she bows and runs to her mother, hugs her and runs back to +the drawing-room amid general applause.] + +LUBOV. [Applauds] Bravo, bravo! + +CHARLOTTA. Once again! _Ein, zwei, drei_! + +[Lifts the shawl. VARYA stands behind it and bows.] + +PISCHIN. [Astonished] Think of that, now. + +CHARLOTTA. The end! + +[Throws the shawl at PISCHIN, curtseys and runs into the drawing-room.] + +PISCHIN. [Runs after her] Little wretch.... What? Would you? [Exit.] + +LUBOV. Leonid hasn't come yet. I don't understand what he's doing so +long in town! Everything must be over by now. The estate must be sold; +or, if the sale never came off, then why does he stay so long? + +VARYA. [Tries to soothe her] Uncle has bought it. I'm certain of it. + +TROFIMOV. [Sarcastically] Oh, yes! + +VARYA. Grandmother sent him her authority for him to buy it in her name +and transfer the debt to her. She's doing it for Anya. And I'm certain +that God will help us and uncle will buy it. + +LUBOV. Grandmother sent fifteen thousand roubles from Yaroslav to buy +the property in her name--she won't trust us--and that wasn't even +enough to pay the interest. [Covers her face with her hands] My fate +will be settled to-day, my fate.... + +TROFIMOV. [Teasing VARYA] Madame Lopakhin! + +VARYA. [Angry] Eternal student! He's already been expelled twice from +the university. + +LUBOV. Why are you getting angry, Varya? He's teasing you about +Lopakhin, well what of it? You can marry Lopakhin if you want to, he's a +good, interesting man.... You needn't if you don't want to; nobody wants +to force you against your will, my darling. + +VARYA. I do look at the matter seriously, little mother, to be quite +frank. He's a good man, and I like him. + +LUBOV. Then marry him. I don't understand what you're waiting for. + +VARYA. I can't propose to him myself, little mother. People have been +talking about him to me for two years now, but he either says nothing, +or jokes about it. I understand. He's getting rich, he's busy, he can't +bother about me. If I had some money, even a little, even only a hundred +roubles, I'd throw up everything and go away. I'd go into a convent. + +TROFIMOV. How nice! + +VARYA. [To TROFIMOV] A student ought to have sense! [Gently, in tears] +How ugly you are now, Peter, how old you've grown! [To LUBOV ANDREYEVNA, +no longer crying] But I can't go on without working, little mother. I +want to be doing something every minute. + +[Enter YASHA.] + +YASHA. [Nearly laughing] Epikhodov's broken a billiard cue! [Exit.] + +VARYA. Why is Epikhodov here? Who said he could play billiards? I don't +understand these people. [Exit.] + +LUBOV. Don't tease her, Peter, you see that she's quite unhappy without +that. + +TROFIMOV. She takes too much on herself, she keeps on interfering in +other people's business. The whole summer she's given no peace to me or +to Anya, she's afraid we'll have a romance all to ourselves. What has it +to do with her? As if I'd ever given her grounds to believe I'd stoop to +such vulgarity! We are above love. + +LUBOV. Then I suppose I must be beneath love. [In agitation] Why isn't +Leonid here? If I only knew whether the estate is sold or not! The +disaster seems to me so improbable that I don't know what to think, I'm +all at sea... I may scream... or do something silly. Save me, Peter. Say +something, say something. + +TROFIMOV. Isn't it all the same whether the estate is sold to-day or +isn't? It's been all up with it for a long time; there's no turning +back, the path's grown over. Be calm, dear, you shouldn't deceive +yourself, for once in your life at any rate you must look the truth +straight in the face. + +LUBOV. What truth? You see where truth is, and where untruth is, but +I seem to have lost my sight and see nothing. You boldly settle all +important questions, but tell me, dear, isn't it because you're young, +because you haven't had time to suffer till you settled a single one +of your questions? You boldly look forward, isn't it because you cannot +foresee or expect anything terrible, because so far life has been hidden +from your young eyes? You are bolder, more honest, deeper than we are, +but think only, be just a little magnanimous, and have mercy on me. I +was born here, my father and mother lived here, my grandfather too, +I love this house. I couldn't understand my life without that cherry +orchard, and if it really must be sold, sell me with it! [Embraces +TROFIMOV, kisses his forehead]. My son was drowned here.... [Weeps] Have +pity on me, good, kind man. + +TROFIMOV. You know I sympathize with all my soul. + +LUBOV. Yes, but it ought to be said differently, differently.... [Takes +another handkerchief, a telegram falls on the floor] I'm so sick at +heart to-day, you can't imagine. Here it's so noisy, my soul shakes at +every sound. I shake all over, and I can't go away by myself, I'm afraid +of the silence. Don't judge me harshly, Peter... I loved you, as if you +belonged to my family. I'd gladly let Anya marry you, I swear it, only +dear, you ought to work, finish your studies. You don't do anything, +only fate throws you about from place to place, it's so odd.... Isn't it +true? Yes? And you ought to do something to your beard to make it grow +better [Laughs] You are funny! + +TROFIMOV. [Picking up telegram] I don't want to be a Beau Brummel. + +LUBOV. This telegram's from Paris. I get one every day. Yesterday and +to-day. That wild man is ill again, he's bad again.... He begs for +forgiveness, and implores me to come, and I really ought to go to Paris +to be near him. You look severe, Peter, but what can I do, my dear, what +can I do; he's ill, he's alone, unhappy, and who's to look after +him, who's to keep him away from his errors, to give him his medicine +punctually? And why should I conceal it and say nothing about it; I love +him, that's plain, I love him, I love him.... That love is a stone round +my neck; I'm going with it to the bottom, but I love that stone and +can't live without it. [Squeezes TROFIMOV'S hand] Don't think badly of +me, Peter, don't say anything to me, don't say... + +TROFIMOV. [Weeping] For God's sake forgive my speaking candidly, but +that man has robbed you! + +LUBOV. No, no, no, you oughtn't to say that! [Stops her ears.] + +TROFIMOV. But he's a wretch, you alone don't know it! He's a petty +thief, a nobody.... + +LUBOV. [Angry, but restrained] You're twenty-six or twenty-seven, and +still a schoolboy of the second class! + +TROFIMOV. Why not! + +LUBOV. You ought to be a man, at your age you ought to be able to +understand those who love. And you ought to be in love yourself, you +must fall in love! [Angry] Yes, yes! You aren't pure, you're just a +freak, a queer fellow, a funny growth... + +TROFIMOV. [In horror] What is she saying! + +LUBOV. "I'm above love!" You're not above love, you're just what our +Fiers calls a bungler. Not to have a mistress at your age! + +TROFIMOV. [In horror] This is awful! What is she saying? [Goes quickly +up into the drawing-room, clutching his head] It's awful... I can't +stand it, I'll go away. [Exit, but returns at once] All is over between +us! [Exit.] + +LUBOV. [Shouts after him] Peter, wait! Silly man, I was joking! Peter! +[Somebody is heard going out and falling downstairs noisily. ANYA and +VARYA scream; laughter is heard immediately] What's that? + +[ANYA comes running in, laughing.] + +ANYA. Peter's fallen downstairs! [Runs out again.] + +LUBOV. This Peter's a marvel. + +[The STATION-MASTER stands in the middle of the drawing-room and recites +"The Magdalen" by Tolstoy. He is listened to, but he has only delivered +a few lines when a waltz is heard from the front room, and the +recitation is stopped. Everybody dances. TROFIMOV, ANYA, VARYA, and +LUBOV ANDREYEVNA come in from the front room.] + +LUBOV. Well, Peter... you pure soul... I beg your pardon... let's dance. + +[She dances with PETER. ANYA and VARYA dance. FIERS enters and stands +his stick by a side door. YASHA has also come in and looks on at the +dance.] + +YASHA. Well, grandfather? + +FIERS. I'm not well. At our balls some time back, generals and barons +and admirals used to dance, and now we send for post-office clerks and +the Station-master, and even they come as a favour. I'm very weak. The +dead master, the grandfather, used to give everybody sealing-wax when +anything was wrong. I've taken sealing-wax every day for twenty years, +and more; perhaps that's why I still live. + +YASHA. I'm tired of you, grandfather. [Yawns] If you'd only hurry up and +kick the bucket. + +FIERS. Oh you... bungler! [Mutters.] + +[TROFIMOV and LUBOV ANDREYEVNA dance in the reception-room, then into +the sitting-room.] + +LUBOV. _Merci_. I'll sit down. [Sits] I'm tired. + +[Enter ANYA.] + +ANYA. [Excited] Somebody in the kitchen was saying just now that the +cherry orchard was sold to-day. + +LUBOV. Sold to whom? + +ANYA. He didn't say to whom. He's gone now. [Dances out into the +reception-room with TROFIMOV.] + +YASHA. Some old man was chattering about it a long time ago. A stranger! + +FIERS. And Leonid Andreyevitch isn't here yet, he hasn't come. He's +wearing a light, _demi-saison_ overcoat. He'll catch cold. Oh these +young fellows. + +LUBOV. I'll die of this. Go and find out, Yasha, to whom it's sold. + +YASHA. Oh, but he's been gone a long time, the old man. [Laughs.] + +LUBOV. [Slightly vexed] Why do you laugh? What are you glad about? + +YASHA. Epikhodov's too funny. He's a silly man. Two-and-twenty troubles. + +LUBOV. Fiers, if the estate is sold, where will you go? + +FIERS. I'll go wherever you order me to go. + +LUBOV. Why do you look like that? Are you ill? I think you ought to go +to bed.... + +FIERS. Yes... [With a smile] I'll go to bed, and who'll hand things +round and give orders without me? I've the whole house on my shoulders. + +YASHA. [To LUBOV ANDREYEVNA] Lubov Andreyevna! I want to ask a favour of +you, if you'll be so kind! If you go to Paris again, then please take +me with you. It's absolutely impossible for me to stop here. [Looking +round; in an undertone] What's the good of talking about it, you see for +yourself that this is an uneducated country, with an immoral population, +and it's so dull. The food in the kitchen is beastly, and here's this +Fiers walking about mumbling various inappropriate things. Take me with +you, be so kind! + +[Enter PISCHIN.] + +PISCHIN. I come to ask for the pleasure of a little waltz, dear lady.... +[LUBOV ANDREYEVNA goes to him] But all the same, you wonderful woman, +I must have 180 little roubles from you... I must.... [They dance] 180 +little roubles.... [They go through into the drawing-room.] + +YASHA. [Sings softly] "Oh, will you understand + My soul's deep restlessness?" + +[In the drawing-room a figure in a grey top-hat and in baggy check +trousers is waving its hands and jumping about; there are cries of +"Bravo, Charlotta Ivanovna!"] + +DUNYASHA. [Stops to powder her face] The young mistress tells me to +dance--there are a lot of gentlemen, but few ladies--and my head +goes round when I dance, and my heart beats, Fiers Nicolaevitch; the +Post-office clerk told me something just now which made me catch my +breath. [The music grows faint.] + +FIERS. What did he say to you? + +DUNYASHA. He says, "You're like a little flower." + +YASHA. [Yawns] Impolite.... [Exit.] + +DUNYASHA. Like a little flower. I'm such a delicate girl; I simply love +words of tenderness. + +FIERS. You'll lose your head. + +[Enter EPIKHODOV.] + +EPIKHODOV. You, Avdotya Fedorovna, want to see me no more than if I was +some insect. [Sighs] Oh, life! + +DUNYASHA. What do you want? + +EPIKHODOV. Undoubtedly, perhaps, you may be right. [Sighs] But, +certainly, if you regard the matter from the aspect, then you, if I may +say so, and you must excuse my candidness, have absolutely reduced me to +a state of mind. I know my fate, every day something unfortunate happens +to me, and I've grown used to it a long time ago, I even look at my fate +with a smile. You gave me your word, and though I... + +DUNYASHA. Please, we'll talk later on, but leave me alone now. I'm +meditating now. [Plays with her fan.] + +EPIKHODOV. Every day something unfortunate happens to me, and I, if I +may so express myself, only smile, and even laugh. + +[VARYA enters from the drawing-room.] + +VARYA. Haven't you gone yet, Simeon? You really have no respect for +anybody. [To DUNYASHA] You go away, Dunyasha. [To EPIKHODOV] You play +billiards and break a cue, and walk about the drawing-room as if you +were a visitor! + +EPIKHODOV. You cannot, if I may say so, call me to order. + +VARYA. I'm not calling you to order, I'm only telling you. You just walk +about from place to place and never do your work. Goodness only knows +why we keep a clerk. + +EPIKHODOV. [Offended] Whether I work, or walk about, or eat, or play +billiards, is only a matter to be settled by people of understanding and +my elders. + +VARYA. You dare to talk to me like that! [Furious] You dare? You mean +that I know nothing? Get out of here! This minute! + +EPIKHODOV. [Nervous] I must ask you to express yourself more delicately. + +VARYA. [Beside herself] Get out this minute. Get out! [He goes to the +door, she follows] Two-and-twenty troubles! I don't want any sign of you +here! I don't want to see anything of you! [EPIKHODOV has gone out; his +voice can be heard outside: "I'll make a complaint against you."] What, +coming back? [Snatches up the stick left by FIERS by the door] Go... +go... go, I'll show you.... Are you going? Are you going? Well, then +take that. [She hits out as LOPAKHIN enters.] + +LOPAKHIN. Much obliged. + +VARYA. [Angry but amused] I'm sorry. + +LOPAKHIN. Never mind. I thank you for my pleasant reception. + +VARYA. It isn't worth any thanks. [Walks away, then looks back and asks +gently] I didn't hurt you, did I? + +LOPAKHIN. No, not at all. There'll be an enormous bump, that's all. + +VOICES FROM THE DRAWING-ROOM. Lopakhin's returned! Ermolai Alexeyevitch! + +PISCHIN. Now we'll see what there is to see and hear what there is to +hear... [Kisses LOPAKHIN] You smell of cognac, my dear, my soul. And +we're all having a good time. + +[Enter LUBOV ANDREYEVNA.] + +LUBOV. Is that you, Ermolai Alexeyevitch? Why were you so long? Where's +Leonid? + +LOPAKHIN. Leonid Andreyevitch came back with me, he's coming.... + +LUBOV. [Excited] Well, what? Is it sold? Tell me? + +LOPAKHIN. [Confused, afraid to show his pleasure] The sale ended up at +four o'clock.... We missed the train, and had to wait till half-past +nine. [Sighs heavily] Ooh! My head's going round a little. + +[Enter GAEV; in his right hand he carries things he has bought, with his +left he wipes away his tears.] + +LUBOV. Leon, what's happened? Leon, well? [Impatiently, in tears] Quick, +for the love of God.... + +GAEV. [Says nothing to her, only waves his hand; to FIERS, weeping] +Here, take this.... Here are anchovies, herrings from Kertch.... +I've had no food to-day.... I have had a time! [The door from the +billiard-room is open; the clicking of the balls is heard, and YASHA'S +voice, "Seven, eighteen!" GAEV'S expression changes, he cries no more] +I'm awfully tired. Help me change my clothes, Fiers. + +[Goes out through the drawing-room; FIERS after him.] + +PISCHIN. What happened? Come on, tell us! + +LUBOV. Is the cherry orchard sold? + +LOPAKHIN. It is sold. + +LUBOV. Who bought it? + +LOPAKHIN. I bought it. + +[LUBOV ANDREYEVNA is overwhelmed; she would fall if she were not +standing by an armchair and a table. VARYA takes her keys off her belt, +throws them on the floor, into the middle of the room and goes out.] + +LOPAKHIN. I bought it! Wait, ladies and gentlemen, please, my head's +going round, I can't talk.... [Laughs] When we got to the sale, +Deriganov was there already. Leonid Andreyevitch had only fifteen +thousand roubles, and Deriganov offered thirty thousand on top of the +mortgage to begin with. I saw how matters were, so I grabbed hold of +him and bid forty. He went up to forty-five, I offered fifty-five. That +means he went up by fives and I went up by tens.... Well, it came to +an end. I bid ninety more than the mortgage; and it stayed with me. The +cherry orchard is mine now, mine! [Roars with laughter] My God, my God, +the cherry orchard's mine! Tell me I'm drunk, or mad, or dreaming.... +[Stamps his feet] Don't laugh at me! If my father and grandfather rose +from their graves and looked at the whole affair, and saw how their +Ermolai, their beaten and uneducated Ermolai, who used to run barefoot +in the winter, how that very Ermolai has bought an estate, which is +the most beautiful thing in the world! I've bought the estate where my +grandfather and my father were slaves, where they weren't even allowed +into the kitchen. I'm asleep, it's only a dream, an illusion.... It's +the fruit of imagination, wrapped in the fog of the unknown.... [Picks +up the keys, nicely smiling] She threw down the keys, she wanted to show +she was no longer mistress here.... [Jingles keys] Well, it's all one! +[Hears the band tuning up] Eh, musicians, play, I want to hear you! Come +and look at Ermolai Lopakhin laying his axe to the cherry orchard, +come and look at the trees falling! We'll build villas here, and our +grandsons and great-grandsons will see a new life here.... Play on, +music! [The band plays. LUBOV ANDREYEVNA sinks into a chair and weeps +bitterly. LOPAKHIN continues reproachfully] Why then, why didn't you +take my advice? My poor, dear woman, you can't go back now. [Weeps] Oh, +if only the whole thing was done with, if only our uneven, unhappy life +were changed! + +PISCHIN. [Takes his arm; in an undertone] She's crying. Let's go into +the drawing-room and leave her by herself... come on.... [Takes his arm +and leads him out.] + +LOPAKHIN. What's that? Bandsmen, play nicely! Go on, do just as I want +you to! [Ironically] The new owner, the owner of the cherry orchard is +coming! [He accidentally knocks up against a little table and nearly +upsets the candelabra] I can pay for everything! [Exit with PISCHIN] + +[In the reception-room and the drawing-room nobody remains except LUBOV +ANDREYEVNA, who sits huddled up and weeping bitterly. The band plays +softly. ANYA and TROFIMOV come in quickly. ANYA goes up to her +mother and goes on her knees in front of her. TROFIMOV stands at the +drawing-room entrance.] + +ANYA. Mother! mother, are you crying? My dear, kind, good mother, my +beautiful mother, I love you! Bless you! The cherry orchard is sold, +we've got it no longer, it's true, true, but don't cry mother, you've +still got your life before you, you've still your beautiful pure soul... +Come with me, come, dear, away from here, come! We'll plant a new +garden, finer than this, and you'll see it, and you'll understand, and +deep joy, gentle joy will sink into your soul, like the evening sun, and +you'll smile, mother! Come, dear, let's go! + +Curtain. + + + + +ACT FOUR + + +[The stage is set as for Act I. There are no curtains on the windows, no +pictures; only a few pieces of furniture are left; they are piled up in +a corner as if for sale. The emptiness is felt. By the door that +leads out of the house and at the back of the stage, portmanteaux and +travelling paraphernalia are piled up. The door on the left is open; the +voices of VARYA and ANYA can be heard through it. LOPAKHIN stands and +waits. YASHA holds a tray with little tumblers of champagne. Outside, +EPIKHODOV is tying up a box. Voices are heard behind the stage. The +peasants have come to say good-bye. The voice of GAEV is heard: "Thank +you, brothers, thank you."] + +YASHA. The common people have come to say good-bye. I am of the +opinion, Ermolai Alexeyevitch, that they're good people, but they don't +understand very much. + +[The voices die away. LUBOV ANDREYEVNA and GAEV enter. She is not crying +but is pale, and her face trembles; she can hardly speak.] + +GAEV. You gave them your purse, Luba. You can't go on like that, you +can't! + +LUBOV. I couldn't help myself, I couldn't! [They go out.] + +LOPAKHIN. [In the doorway, calling after them] Please, I ask you most +humbly! Just a little glass to say good-bye. I didn't remember to bring +any from town and I only found one bottle at the station. Please, do! +[Pause] Won't you really have any? [Goes away from the door] If I only +knew--I wouldn't have bought any. Well, I shan't drink any either. +[YASHA carefully puts the tray on a chair] You have a drink, Yasha, at +any rate. + +YASHA. To those departing! And good luck to those who stay behind! +[Drinks] I can assure you that this isn't real champagne. + +LOPAKHIN. Eight roubles a bottle. [Pause] It's devilish cold here. + +YASHA. There are no fires to-day, we're going away. [Laughs] + +LOPAKHIN. What's the matter with you? + +YASHA. I'm just pleased. + +LOPAKHIN. It's October outside, but it's as sunny and as quiet as if +it were summer. Good for building. [Looking at his watch and speaking +through the door] Ladies and gentlemen, please remember that it's only +forty-seven minutes till the train goes! You must go off to the station +in twenty minutes. Hurry up. + +[TROFIMOV, in an overcoat, comes in from the grounds.] + +TROFIMOV. I think it's time we went. The carriages are waiting. Where +the devil are my goloshes? They're lost. [Through the door] Anya, I +can't find my goloshes! I can't! + +LOPAKHIN. I've got to go to Kharkov. I'm going in the same train as you. +I'm going to spend the whole winter in Kharkov. I've been hanging about +with you people, going rusty without work. I can't live without working. +I must have something to do with my hands; they hang about as if they +weren't mine at all. + +TROFIMOV. We'll go away now and then you'll start again on your useful +labours. + +LOPAKHIN. Have a glass. + +TROFIMOV. I won't. + +LOPAKHIN. So you're off to Moscow now? + +TROFIMOV Yes. I'll see them into town and to-morrow I'm off to Moscow. + +LOPAKHIN. Yes.... I expect the professors don't lecture nowadays; +they're waiting till you turn up! + +TROFIMOV. That's not your business. + +LOPAKHIN. How many years have you been going to the university? + +TROFIMOV. Think of something fresh. This is old and flat. [Looking for +his goloshes] You know, we may not meet each other again, so just let me +give you a word of advice on parting: "Don't wave your hands about! Get +rid of that habit of waving them about. And then, building villas and +reckoning on their residents becoming freeholders in time--that's the +same thing; it's all a matter of waving your hands about.... Whether +I want to or not, you know, I like you. You've thin, delicate fingers, +like those of an artist, and you've a thin, delicate soul...." + +LOPAKHIN. [Embraces him] Good-bye, dear fellow. Thanks for all you've +said. If you want any, take some money from me for the journey. + +TROFIMOV. Why should I? I don't want it. + +LOPAKHIN. But you've nothing! + +TROFIMOV. Yes, I have, thank you; I've got some for a translation. Here +it is in my pocket. [Nervously] But I can't find my goloshes! + +VARYA. [From the other room] Take your rubbish away! [Throws a pair of +rubber goloshes on to the stage.] + +TROFIMOV. Why are you angry, Varya? Hm! These aren't my goloshes! + +LOPAKHIN. In the spring I sowed three thousand acres of poppies, and now +I've made forty thousand roubles net profit. And when my poppies were +in flower, what a picture it was! So I, as I was saying, made forty +thousand roubles, and I mean I'd like to lend you some, because I can +afford it. Why turn up your nose at it? I'm just a simple peasant.... + +TROFIMOV. Your father was a peasant, mine was a chemist, and that means +absolutely nothing. [LOPAKHIN takes out his pocket-book] No, no.... +Even if you gave me twenty thousand I should refuse. I'm a free man. And +everything that all you people, rich and poor, value so highly and so +dearly hasn't the least influence over me; it's like a flock of down in +the wind. I can do without you, I can pass you by. I'm strong and proud. +Mankind goes on to the highest truths and to the highest happiness such +as is only possible on earth, and I go in the front ranks! + +LOPAKHIN. Will you get there? + +TROFIMOV. I will. [Pause] I'll get there and show others the way. [Axes +cutting the trees are heard in the distance.] + +LOPAKHIN. Well, good-bye, old man. It's time to go. Here we stand +pulling one another's noses, but life goes its own way all the time. +When I work for a long time, and I don't get tired, then I think more +easily, and I think I get to understand why I exist. And there are so +many people in Russia, brother, who live for nothing at all. Still, work +goes on without that. Leonid Andreyevitch, they say, has accepted a post +in a bank; he will get sixty thousand roubles a year.... But he won't +stand it; he's very lazy. + +ANYA. [At the door] Mother asks if you will stop them cutting down the +orchard until she has gone away. + +TROFIMOV. Yes, really, you ought to have enough tact not to do that. +[Exit.] + +LOPAKHIN, All right, all right... yes, he's right. [Exit.] + +ANYA. Has Fiers been sent to the hospital? + +YASHA. I gave the order this morning. I suppose they've sent him. + +ANYA. [To EPIKHODOV, who crosses the room] Simeon Panteleyevitch, please +make inquiries if Fiers has been sent to the hospital. + +YASHA. [Offended] I told Egor this morning. What's the use of asking ten +times! + +EPIKHODOV. The aged Fiers, in my conclusive opinion, isn't worth +mending; his forefathers had better have him. I only envy him. [Puts +a trunk on a hat-box and squashes it] Well, of course. I thought so! +[Exit.] + +YASHA. [Grinning] Two-and-twenty troubles. + +VARYA. [Behind the door] Has Fiers been taken away to the hospital? + +ANYA. Yes. + +VARYA. Why didn't they take the letter to the doctor? + +ANYA. It'll have to be sent after him. [Exit.] + +VARYA. [In the next room] Where's Yasha? Tell him his mother's come and +wants to say good-bye to him. + +YASHA. [Waving his hand] She'll make me lose all patience! + +[DUNYASHA has meanwhile been bustling round the luggage; now that YASHA +is left alone, she goes up to him.] + +DUNYASHA. If you only looked at me once, Yasha. You're going away, +leaving me behind. + +[Weeps and hugs him round the neck.] + +YASHA. What's the use of crying? [Drinks champagne] In six days I'll be +again in Paris. To-morrow we get into the express and off we go. I can +hardly believe it. Vive la France! It doesn't suit me here, I can't live +here... it's no good. Well, I've seen the uncivilized world; I have had +enough of it. [Drinks champagne] What do you want to cry for? You behave +yourself properly, and then you won't cry. + +DUNYASHA. [Looks in a small mirror and powders her face] Send me a +letter from Paris. You know I loved you, Yasha, so much! I'm a sensitive +creature, Yasha. + +YASHA. Somebody's coming. + +[He bustles around the luggage, singing softly. Enter LUBOV ANDREYEVNA, +GAEV, ANYA, and CHARLOTTA IVANOVNA.] + +GAEV. We'd better be off. There's no time left. [Looks at YASHA] +Somebody smells of herring! + +LUBOV. We needn't get into our carriages for ten minutes.... [Looks +round the room] Good-bye, dear house, old grandfather. The winter will +go, the spring will come, and then you'll exist no more, you'll be +pulled down. How much these walls have seen! [Passionately kisses her +daughter] My treasure, you're radiant, your eyes flash like two jewels! +Are you happy? Very? + +ANYA. Very! A new life is beginning, mother! + +GAEV. [Gaily] Yes, really, everything's all right now. Before the cherry +orchard was sold we all were excited and we suffered, and then, when +the question was solved once and for all, we all calmed down, and even +became cheerful. I'm a bank official now, and a financier... red in the +middle; and you, Luba, for some reason or other, look better, there's no +doubt about it. + +LUBOV Yes. My nerves are better, it's true. [She puts on her coat and +hat] I sleep well. Take my luggage out, Yasha. It's time. [To ANYA] My +little girl, we'll soon see each other again.... I'm off to Paris. I'll +live there on the money your grandmother from Yaroslav sent along to buy +the estate--bless her!--though it won't last long. + +ANYA. You'll come back soon, soon, mother, won't you? I'll get ready, +and pass the exam at the Higher School, and then I'll work and help +you. We'll read all sorts of books to one another, won't we? [Kisses +her mother's hands] We'll read in the autumn evenings; we'll read +many books, and a beautiful new world will open up before us.... +[Thoughtfully] You'll come, mother.... + +LUBOV. I'll come, my darling. [Embraces her.] + +[Enter LOPAKHIN. CHARLOTTA is singing to herself.] + +GAEV. Charlotta is happy; she sings! + +CHARLOTTA. [Takes a bundle, looking like a wrapped-up baby] My little +baby, bye-bye. [The baby seems to answer, "Oua! Oua!"] Hush, my nice +little boy. ["Oua! Oua!"] I'm so sorry for you! [Throws the bundle back] +So please find me a new place. I can't go on like this. + +LOPAKHIN. We'll find one, Charlotta Ivanovna, don't you be afraid. + +GAEV. Everybody's leaving us. Varya's going away... we've suddenly +become unnecessary. + +CHARLOTTA. I've nowhere to live in town. I must go away. [Hums] Never +mind. + +[Enter PISCHIN.] + +LOPAKHIN. Nature's marvel! + +PISCHIN. [Puffing] Oh, let me get my breath back.... I'm fagged out... +My most honoured, give me some water.... + +GAEV. Come for money, what? I'm your humble servant, and I'm going out +of the way of temptation. [Exit.] + +PISCHIN. I haven't been here for ever so long... dear madam. [To +LOPAKHIN] You here? Glad to see you... man of immense brain... take +this... take it.... [Gives LOPAKHIN money] Four hundred roubles.... That +leaves 840.... + +LOPAKHIN. [Shrugs his shoulders in surprise] As if I were dreaming. +Where did you get this from? + +PISCHIN. Stop... it's hot.... A most unexpected thing happened. Some +Englishmen came along and found some white clay on my land.... [To LUBOV +ANDREYEVNA] And here's four hundred for you... beautiful lady.... [Gives +her money] Give you the rest later.... [Drinks water] Just now a young +man in the train was saying that some great philosopher advises us all +to jump off roofs. "Jump!" he says, and that's all. [Astonished] To +think of that, now! More water! + +LOPAKHIN. Who were these Englishmen? + +PISCHIN. I've leased off the land with the clay to them for twenty-four +years.... Now, excuse me, I've no time.... I must run off.... I must +go to Znoikov and to Kardamonov... I owe them all money.... [Drinks] +Good-bye. I'll come in on Thursday. + +LUBOV. We're just off to town, and to-morrow I go abroad. + +PISCHIN. [Agitated] What? Why to town? I see furniture... trunks.... +Well, never mind. [Crying] Never mind. These Englishmen are men of +immense intellect.... Never mind.... Be happy.... God will help you.... +Never mind.... Everything in this world comes to an end.... [Kisses +LUBOV ANDREYEVNA'S hand] And if you should happen to hear that my end +has come, just remember this old... horse and say: "There was one +such and such a Simeonov-Pischin, God bless his soul...." Wonderful +weather... yes.... [Exit deeply moved, but returns at once and says in +the door] Dashenka sent her love! [Exit.] + +LUBOV. Now we can go. I've two anxieties, though. The first is poor +Fiers [Looks at her watch] We've still five minutes.... + +ANYA. Mother, Fiers has already been sent to the hospital. Yasha sent +him off this morning. + +LUBOV. The second is Varya. She's used to getting up early and to work, +and now she's no work to do she's like a fish out of water. She's grown +thin and pale, and she cries, poor thing.... [Pause] You know very well, +Ermolai Alexeyevitch, that I used to hope to marry her to you, and I +suppose you are going to marry somebody? [Whispers to ANYA, who nods to +CHARLOTTA, and they both go out] She loves you, she's your sort, and I +don't understand, I really don't, why you seem to be keeping away from +each other. I don't understand! + +LOPAKHIN. To tell the truth, I don't understand it myself. It's all so +strange.... If there's still time, I'll be ready at once... Let's get it +over, once and for all; I don't feel as if I could ever propose to her +without you. + +LUBOV. Excellent. It'll only take a minute. I'll call her. + +LOPAKHIN. The champagne's very appropriate. [Looking at the tumblers] +They're empty, somebody's already drunk them. [YASHA coughs] I call that +licking it up.... + +LUBOV. [Animated] Excellent. We'll go out. Yasha, allez. I'll call her +in.... [At the door] Varya, leave that and come here. Come! [Exit with +YASHA.] + +LOPAKHIN. [Looks at his watch] Yes.... [Pause.] + +[There is a restrained laugh behind the door, a whisper, then VARYA +comes in.] + +VARYA. [Looking at the luggage in silence] I can't seem to find it.... + +LOPAKHIN. What are you looking for? + +VARYA. I packed it myself and I don't remember. [Pause.] + +LOPAKHIN. Where are you going to now, Barbara Mihailovna? + +VARYA. I? To the Ragulins.... I've got an agreement to go and look after +their house... as housekeeper or something. + +LOPAKHIN. Is that at Yashnevo? It's about fifty miles. [Pause] So life +in this house is finished now.... + +VARYA. [Looking at the luggage] Where is it?... perhaps I've put it away +in the trunk.... Yes, there'll be no more life in this house.... + +LOPAKHIN. And I'm off to Kharkov at once... by this train. I've a lot of +business on hand. I'm leaving Epikhodov here... I've taken him on. + +VARYA. Well, well! + +LOPAKHIN. Last year at this time the snow was already falling, if you +remember, and now it's nice and sunny. Only it's rather cold.... There's +three degrees of frost. + +VARYA. I didn't look. [Pause] And our thermometer's broken.... [Pause.] + +VOICE AT THE DOOR. Ermolai Alexeyevitch! + +LOPAKHIN. [As if he has long been waiting to be called] This minute. +[Exit quickly.] + +[VARYA, sitting on the floor, puts her face on a bundle of clothes and +weeps gently. The door opens. LUBOV ANDREYEVNA enters carefully.] + +LUBOV. Well? [Pause] We must go. + +VARYA. [Not crying now, wipes her eyes] Yes, it's quite time, little +mother. I'll get to the Ragulins to-day, if I don't miss the train.... + +LUBOV. [At the door] Anya, put on your things. [Enter ANYA, then GAEV, +CHARLOTTA IVANOVNA. GAEV wears a warm overcoat with a cape. A servant +and drivers come in. EPIKHODOV bustles around the luggage] Now we can go +away. + +ANYA. [Joyfully] Away! + +GAEV. My friends, my dear friends! Can I be silent, in leaving this +house for evermore?--can I restrain myself, in saying farewell, from +expressing those feelings which now fill my whole being...? + +ANYA. [Imploringly] Uncle! + +VARYA. Uncle, you shouldn't! + +GAEV. [Stupidly] Double the red into the middle.... I'll be quiet. + +[Enter TROFIMOV, then LOPAKHIN.] + +TROFIMOV. Well, it's time to be off. + +LOPAKHIN. Epikhodov, my coat! + +LUBOV. I'll sit here one more minute. It's as if I'd never really +noticed what the walls and ceilings of this house were like, and now I +look at them greedily, with such tender love.... + +GAEV. I remember, when I was six years old, on Trinity Sunday, I sat at +this window and looked and saw my father going to church.... + +LUBOV. Have all the things been taken away? + +LOPAKHIN. Yes, all, I think. [To EPIKHODOV, putting on his coat] You see +that everything's quite straight, Epikhodov. + +EPIKHODOV. [Hoarsely] You may depend upon me, Ermolai Alexeyevitch! + +LOPAKHIN. What's the matter with your voice? + +EPIKHODOV. I swallowed something just now; I was having a drink of +water. + +YASHA. [Suspiciously] What manners.... + +LUBOV. We go away, and not a soul remains behind. + +LOPAKHIN. Till the spring. + +VARYA. [Drags an umbrella out of a bundle, and seems to be waving it +about. LOPAKHIN appears to be frightened] What are you doing?... I never +thought... + +TROFIMOV. Come along, let's take our seats... it's time! The train will +be in directly. + +VARYA. Peter, here they are, your goloshes, by that trunk. [In tears] +And how old and dirty they are.... + +TROFIMOV. [Putting them on] Come on! + +GAEV. [Deeply moved, nearly crying] The train... the station.... Cross +in the middle, a white double in the corner.... + +LUBOV. Let's go! + +LOPAKHIN. Are you all here? There's nobody else? [Locks the side-door on +the left] There's a lot of things in there. I must lock them up. Come! + +ANYA. Good-bye, home! Good-bye, old life! + +TROFIMOV. Welcome, new life! [Exit with ANYA.] + +[VARYA looks round the room and goes out slowly. YASHA and CHARLOTTA, +with her little dog, go out.] + +LOPAKHIN. Till the spring, then! Come on... till we meet again! [Exit.] + +[LUBOV ANDREYEVNA and GAEV are left alone. They might almost have been +waiting for that. They fall into each other's arms and sob restrainedly +and quietly, fearing that somebody might hear them.] + +GAEV. [In despair] My sister, my sister.... + +LUBOV. My dear, my gentle, beautiful orchard! My life, my youth, my +happiness, good-bye! Good-bye! + +ANYA'S VOICE. [Gaily] Mother! + +TROFIMOV'S VOICE. [Gaily, excited] Coo-ee! + +LUBOV. To look at the walls and the windows for the last time.... My +dead mother used to like to walk about this room.... + +GAEV. My sister, my sister! + +ANYA'S VOICE. Mother! + +TROFIMOV'S VOICE. Coo-ee! + +LUBOV. We're coming! [They go out.] + +[The stage is empty. The sound of keys being turned in the locks is +heard, and then the noise of the carriages going away. It is quiet. Then +the sound of an axe against the trees is heard in the silence sadly and +by itself. Steps are heard. FIERS comes in from the door on the right. +He is dressed as usual, in a short jacket and white waistcoat; slippers +on his feet. He is ill. He goes to the door and tries the handle.] + +FIERS. It's locked. They've gone away. [Sits on a sofa] They've +forgotten about me.... Never mind, I'll sit here.... And Leonid +Andreyevitch will have gone in a light overcoat instead of putting on +his fur coat.... [Sighs anxiously] I didn't see.... Oh, these young +people! [Mumbles something that cannot be understood] Life's gone on as +if I'd never lived. [Lying down] I'll lie down.... You've no strength +left in you, nothing left at all.... Oh, you... bungler! + +[He lies without moving. The distant sound is heard, as if from the sky, +of a breaking string, dying away sadly. Silence follows it, and only the +sound is heard, some way away in the orchard, of the axe falling on the +trees.] + +Curtain. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Plays by Chekhov, Second Series, by Anton Chekhov + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAYS BY CHEKHOV, SECOND SERIES *** + +***** This file should be named 7986-8.txt or 7986-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/9/8/7986/ + +Produced by James Rusk and Nicole Apostola + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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